#i wonder what made her lose the courage of her convictions and make that country radio statement

[asteracaea]

remember when we all heard betty for the very first time and there were two minutes and forty seven glorious seconds of listening to taylor swift sing about a relationship with a girl with no loophole of straight deniability, just pure sapphic wlw content

[newdougsblog]

The Tragic Hero Full of Fear

Hello everyone! Before I get into this, I’d like to thank @jasontoddiefor​ for both the name and being the main enabler of this fun piece of writing. I also want to thank all my wonderful friends over on Discord for letting me bounce ideas off of them and helping me. You are all amazing!!

Ok, so let’s get into it!

The first six Star Wars movies (the Original and Prequel trilogies) are commonly referred to as “the Tragedy of Darth Vader.”  But what makes these movies a tragedy? How is Anakin Skywalker himself, the main character of said tragedy, a tragic hero? In this meta/essay, I will discuss how Anakin himself is definitionally a tragic hero and outline his story as it relates to the structure of a classic Greek tragedy.  

This essay will focus solely on Anakin’s character as he is canonically portrayed.

The Hero

Let’s go through the main traits of a tragic hero (as per early literature) and discuss them in the context of Anakin Skywalker.

Possesses immense courage and strength and is usually favored by the gods

Anakin’s courage is evident throughout his entire life, such as when he participates in the pod race in TPM or on the front lines during the Clone Wars. 

While we cannot definitively ascribe Anakin’s abilities to any deity, we can associate them with the Force. The Force is able to somewhat influence the happenings of the universe in certain ways and takes the place of any sort of deity.

Whether Anakin is the “Chosen One” or not, his connection to the Force is stronger than that of any other Force-sensitive being, so he is consequently closer to it than most, if not all, other Force-sensitive beings. 

Extreme loyalty to family and country 

Anakin is consistent in his demonstrations of loyalty to those he has strong feelings for (whether those feelings be romantic or platonic).

His devotion to Padmé surpasses his loyalty to the Jedi, and he is always willing to go to great lengths to ensure their safety and well-being.

Anakin also exhibits a strong sense of devotion to his mother, Shmi. His devotion to her, and by extension her wellbeing, surpasses his duties as Jedi. 

In ROTS, Anakin says, “I will not betray the Republic… my loyalties lie with the Chancellor and with the Senate… and with you” (you, in this case, referring to Padmé). In this quotation, Anakin’s loyalties are made quite clear. At this point, he is not faithful to the Jedi, but to his government, its leaders, and, of course, his wife.

Representative of society’s current values

During the Clone Wars, Anakin is known by the moniker, “the Hero with No Fear,” and is one of the Republic’s “poster boys.” He is charismatic, kind, seemingly fearless (obviously) and a strong fighter, thus representing the values that were important to the Republic at the time. The last characteristic is especially important because of the assurance it instills in times of war. As a representation of the Republic, Anakin’s prowess on the battlefield creates hope for its citizens that victory is possible. 

Anakin also empathizes with the opinion that the seemingly outdated Jedi Code holds them back. In the Citadel Arc, Tarkin remarks that “the Jedi Code prevents [the Jedi] from going far enough to achieve victory.” Anakin actually agrees with this statement, replying that “[he’s] also found that [the Jedi] sometimes fall short of victory because of [their] methods” (Season 3, Episode 19). He shows a sense of allegiance not to the ancient ways of the Jedi, but to the newer, more modern ideals regarding military action. 

Anakin claims to have brought “peace, justice, freedom, and security” to his “new Empire.” While the Empire's interpretations of the aforementioned values are skewed, Anakin continues to represent them as Darth Vader. 

Anakin’s statement to Obi-Wan also mirrors Palpatine’s declaration to the Senate: “In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society which I assure you will last for ten thousand years.” The people applaud this statement, demonstrating a general sense of exhaustion in regards to the war and a yearning for what this new Empire is promising them.

Lead astray/challenged by strong feelings

Though there are many, many examples of Anakin’s emotions getting the better of him, we’re simply going to list two:

Anakin’s fury and anguish after the death of his mom leads to his slaughter of the Tuskens

Anakin’s overwhelming fear of losing Padmé is ultimately what leads to his Fall.

Every tragic hero possesses what is called a hamartia, or a fatal flaw. This trait largely contributes to the hero’s catastrophic downfall. Anakin’s hamartia is his need for control, which partially manifests through his fear of loss. 

Let’s explore this idea in more detail. 

Though Anakin grows up as a slave, the movies neglect to explicitly cover the trauma left from his time in slavery. However, it is worth noting that slaves did not have the ability to make many choices for themselves; they didn’t even own their bodies. After being freed, Anakin is whisked away to become a Jedi. He does not possess much control over his life as Jedi, for he is simply told what path he is going to take. While Anakin does make this decision on his own, becoming a Jedi is a disciplined and somewhat-strict way of life and not one that allows for an abundance of reckless autonomy as he is wont to engage in. 

(Side note: I’m not here to argue about Qui-Gon’s decision-making abilities, nor do I wish to engage in discourse regarding the Jedi’s way of life. I am simply presenting and objectively stating these facts in relation to Anakin because they are pertinent to my point.) 

During AOTC, Anakin is unable to save his mother from death. As Shmi dies in his arms, Anakin is absolutely helpless. The situation is completely out of his control, and he is forced to contend with the reality that despite all of his power, he cannot control everything that happens. 

He also feels that he has a larger potential for power and is being held back by Obi-Wan: “although I'm a Padawan learner, in some ways... a lot of ways... I'm ahead of him. I'm ready for the trials. I know I am! He knows it too. He believes I'm too unpredictable… I know I started my training late... but he won't let me move on.” Anakin believes Obi-Wan, his teacher and mentor, is holding him back. He expresses a self-held conviction of his status and skills and does not trust the word of his superior. 

In ROTS, Anakin starts dreaming of Padmé’s death. Considering what occurred the last time he dreamt of a loved one’s demise, Anakin is justifiably (or at least justifiably from his point of view) worried. He consequently wants to stop these dreams from coming true in any way possible. His fear of death, especially that of his loved ones, represents his need for control over everything, even things that are uncontrollable. This overwhelming desire leads to Anakin’s drastic actions.

As Darth Vader, he no longer possesses such fears, for everyone that he loved is either dead or has betrayed him. He is the epitome of order and control, eliminating any who disturb this perceived equilibrium. 

However, this changes because of one person: Luke Skywalker. 

Luke reintroduces something that was (arguably) long-absent in Vader’s life, which is interpersonal attachment. Vader yearns for his son to join him by his side. When Luke refuses, Vader continues to attempt to seek him out. In ROTJ, Vader is forced to choose between the Emperor, a man he has long trusted and followed, and Luke, the son he never knew he had. Out of a desire to protect and keep what little family he has left (and likely a sense of “I couldn’t save Padmé but at least I can save her legacy by keeping her child(ren) alive and safe”), Vader defeats the Emperor and saves his son. Though his actions are definitionally heroic, Anakin never truly overcomes his hamartia. 

The Structure of a Tragedy

Classic Greek tragedies follow a specific story structure, which, according to the German playwright Gustav Freytag, is as follows:

We’re going to focus on the three aspects that best represent Anakin’s story as a tragedy: The peripeteia, the anagnorisis, and the catastrophe/denouement. These occur during and/or after the climax. 

The peripeteia is the climax/the turning point in the plot. Said change usually involves the protagonist's good luck and prosperity taking a turn for the worse. 

Within the tragedy we are discussing, the peripeteia occurs when Anakin chooses Sidious over Mace Windu and solidifies his allegiance to the Dark side, becoming the very thing he swore to destroy. It is at this point that things really start to go downhill. He kills children, chokes his wife, fights his best friend, gets his remaining limbs cut off, etc. 

The anagnorisis is the point in the tragedy when the protagonist recognizes their error, seeing the true nature of that which they were previously ignorant of, usually regarding their circumstances or a specific relationship (such as Oedipus’ realization that his wife was actually his mother). In most tragedies, the anagnorisis is in close proximity to the peripeteia. In Anakin’s story, the anagnorisis occurs during ROTJ. After being wounded in his fight against Luke, Vader watches as his son is brutally electrocuted by Sidious. It is at this moment that Darth Vader realizes that Luke was right—there is good in him, and he still has the chance to redeem himself. 

The catastrophe/denouement (since this is a tragedy, we’re going to go with “catastrophe”) is the end of the tragedy. Events and conflicts are resolved and brought to a close, and a new sort of “normality” is established. The catastrophe often provides a sense of catharsis (release of tension) for the viewer. The protagonist is worse off than they were at the beginning of the tragedy. 

The catastrophe within “The Tragedy of Darth Vader” transpires soon after the anagnorisis at the end of ROTJ. Though the realization of his capacity for good is the anagnorisis, the follow-through (via his actions), as well as what consequently occurs, is the catastrophe. As previously discussed, Vader saves Luke by killing the Emperor but does so at the cost of his own life. This serves as the resolution of the tragedy, for the hero’s fate has been confirmed—Darth Vader fulfills his destined role as the Chosen One and, in doing so, brings about his own redemption and dies as Anakin Skywalker.

In conclusion, the categorization of Star Wars as a tragedy is a choice that heavily influences Anakin, the protagonist and hero, of the story. He is without a doubt a tragic hero whose fatal flaw leads to his downfall. In accordance with Aristotle’s theory of tragedy, Anakin’s tragedy is constructed not by personal agency, but by the narrative itself.

Works Cited

“Darth Vader.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 15 Mar. 2021, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darth_Vader.

“Dramatic Structure.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 20 Feb. 2021, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dramatic_structure.

“Hero.” Encyclopaedia Britannica, Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., 19 Oct. 2016, www.britannica.com/art/hero-literary-and-cultural-figure.

Lucas, George, director. Star Wars: Episode III— Revenge of the Sith. Lucasfilm Ltd., 2005.

Lucas, George, director. Star Wars: Episode II— Attack of the Clones. Lucasfilm Ltd. , 2002.

Michnovetz, Matt. “Star Wars: The Clone Wars, ‘Counterattack.’” Season 3, episode 19, 4 Mar. 2011.

“Sophocles: the Purest Artist.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., www.britannica.com/art/tragedy-literature/Sophocles-the-purest-artist.

“Theory of Tragedy.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., www.britannica.com/art/tragedy-literature/Theory-of-tragedy.

“Tragic Hero.” Dictionary.com, Dictionary.com, www.dictionary.com/browse/tragic-hero. 

[sodaonskateboards]

Falling with Fireworks (Hiyoko x Reader) Circus Au

AN: Wow, I’ve been gone awhile, this was requested long ago. I’m sorry for going silent. I hope you enjoy

Triggers: Hiyoko kinda hits reader with a hammer a lot, but it’s like Team Rocket logic?? Sorry if you aren’t a fan of that.

Hiyoko Saionji was a very cute girl who seemed to hate you. You two were the opening act in the word class Hope’s Peak Circus. Saionji’s job was to charm the guests with beautiful colours and rhythmic fireworks. Graceful, elegant, mesmerizing. Her performance was the stuff of fairytales, convincing the audience to stay for the rest of the show with ease. She also shot you out of a cannon. Or sent you flying with a hit from her overly sized hammer. Her hammer looked like a Mallet of Luck but was far too big to be, and besides, it hasn’t brought you any luck for sure. Saionji was easily irritated, to say the least, and you were often the target of her ire. A small bonk to the head here and there, or nightly, and a grand show of you hurtling through the air from her powerful swing are a little less common. Strangely, it never really hurt. You made sure to stretch often so being stuff into a cannon and other acrobatics weren’t so hard on your poor body. However, this did not completely prevent the aches and pains, but curiously, the hammer, with just the right pressure was almost like a massage of sorts- hitting your body back into shape. Of course, you wouldn’t tell Saionji about this since she would probably stop if it was helpful. 

Tonight was just like any other night, your performance going off without a hitch. You were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow’s show slowly, slightly celebrating and chatting happily away with your peers. Currently, you were talking to a stage-hand Hajime Hinata, and another headliner, Peko Pekoyama. Hajime was a very good worker and extremely helpful. He wore a simple button-up, gray, work shirt and black trousers with sturdy boots. Peko was still dressed in her show outfit- a navy blue kimono with cool undertones adorned with silver swirls that made waves and stars covered her. While elegant it was still very much practical as she needed to move to wield her mighty blades that are clever enough to cut the light fuse off a bomb before disaster could rear its face. A cigar, that she regularly used in her act, was held steadily between her lips- still lit. 

“Hey,” Hajime took a more serious tone, “are you okay? Y’know with Hiyoko always hitting you?”. It was just like him to care. Peko paused her work and waited for your answer and you realized how bad it looked. You chuckled off the question, “Yeah, I’m fine”. The two stared at you incredulously. “Really I am” you reassured. “Either way, it is unkind of her,” Peko offered. 

You felt two eyes on your back, burning through you like a hot coal, and saw Hajime had felt the stare too. Peko looked towards Hiyoko, unmoved by her glare. Normally, you wouldn’t have worried if Saionji was around during clean up as she usually never could be bothered to help, but tonight was the outlier it appeared. She, like Peko, was still wearing her stage uniform- a marvellous, deep orange kimono wrapped with a soft, green silk obi. The silk was imprinted with white cranes flying over a green sea. The kimono itself had an elaborate pattern with peonies and plum blossoms and lotus flowers spun in gold. Her hair was tied with a red ribbon into a ponytail and decorated with fox pins. Tucked into her obi was a large firework that fuse tailed behind her. Saionji was without her pipe that she used to light your cannon. The pipe was possibly the most impressive piece of her outfit, beautiful carvings wrapped around it leading to it’s slightly bigger than average end. The smoke was always produced a wide variety of different bright colours with the occasional spark popping out. Most importantly, she had her hammer at the ready. 

She stood in silence sizing you up for what was a few seconds, but felt like hours. "Well, does it hurt?" Hiyoko finally asked. A strange hum of uncertainty left your throat without permission. Hajime nervously chuckled in a lame attempt to take the edge off. Peko, in contrast, maintained her usual demeanor. Not that Hiyoko noticed, no, she was too busy staring you down. 

Hajime intervened, "Come on Saionji, don't be like that. I was just curious, I didn't mean any offence".

Peko was as calm as ever, "You or (y/n) shouldn't be the ones apologizing Hajime. Saionji should". 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Hiyoko's eyes were off you and focused on Peko instead. "Why's that?"

Unsurprisingly, Peko didn't back down, "Because you're the one over-reacting and expecting them to walk on eggshells around you."

"I'm over-reacting? Is this an overreaction?" Saionji countered before swinging her hammer and sending you off. After your generous boost upwards into the air and gliding down to the ground in a few minutes or less, you landed onto an empty prairie, quite away from the tents. Your lungs are recovering from the altitude, your hair is a mess, and your legs trying to get over the shock. However, you managed to shake it off quickly.

"Yes," Peko responded without hesitation. 

As enraged as ever, but knowing she would not be able to land a single hit on Peko, Saionji instead cussed up a storm. In the middle of her frenzy, she failed to notice that Peko had finished her cigar and was about to put the flame out. Before the swordswoman could finish though, Saionji turned too sharply and the fuse of the firework somehow managed to touch the cigar without her notice. 

“Um, Hiyoko?” Hajime started nervously.

“What!?” Hiyoko snapped back quickly.

“Your firework is lit,” Hinata answered simply.

Looking behind her to find it was indeed lit, Saionji stared in disbelief, not responding. In a few more seconds, the firework went off, sending Saionji in the air, trailing after you. 

After her short flight, she landed beside you, pouty and grumpy. “Hey Saionji.” you greeted her softly. She did not respond. This worried you, as she normally teased you, and you two could joke around, but silence, the silence was deafening. The two of you started to walk towards the circus in an awkward quiet.

The wind carried a brisk chill to cut through you. You could see the top of the circus tent, the red and white becoming a beacon in the poorly lit country. The stars looked down at the two of you in curiosity, wondering what thing had come so close to touching them, if you squint you could see the outline of Saionji’s firework among the stars. The long, wild grass, where the tops of them reached you, tickled around your legs. 

“You would tell me right?” She finally responded.

“What?”, you were confused, “Tell you what?”

That seemed to annoy her further, she stopped walking to look you in the eyes, “You would tell me if you were hurt, right?”

“I, I …”, words alluded you right then, “I- Why? Why does it matter?”

“Because I would want to know,” Saionji stated with conviction.

“Why? Why would you want to know?”

Saionji paused for a moment, then whispered “I don’t want to really hurt you.” She began to trail off, losing the courage to keep talking.

“I still don’t get it, you act that way towards everyone all the time.”

“But you’re you! You’re not them, you’re you and I care about you, okay?!” She was exasperated and on the verge of tears. You were shocked. Your tongue was as still as the rest of your body. You looked into Saionji’s defeated face, sighed softly, “I didn’t know”. 

“When I see you, I just feel so strange and full and just the need to do something- anything. I have all this energy around you, and then you say something and the feeling gets worse, so I just swing.” She disorderly explained.

“What do you think of that?” Despite her stature, you never saw her look so small. She looked at you, for the first time, to give her approval while tears pushed their way down her cheeks without her permission. Looking at the night sky, you carefully contemplated your next words.

“I’m surprised, for sure. But I see a sky of stars, and I know that you managed to make it even brighter. For a minute you managed to be the most illuminating thing in it, without even trying. And it isn’t just the sky either, but everywhere you go, you are the most beautiful thing there, Hiyoko.”

Hiyoko digested your words for a moment expressionless. A small, sweet laugh came from her, and she wiped her tears. Then Hiyoko gave you a loving smile and hurried towards you- embracing you, which you eagerly returned. The two of you began laughing together, why? Neither of you knew, but it felt nice to laugh together. She mumbled into your shoulder a promise to never hurt you again. You disentangled from each other and began to walk back to the circus. Hand in hand, suddenly the wind no longer bothered you.

[theritualofourexistence]

Odes to Old Gods

I started this year intending to journal about things I survive. Then at the end of the year, I could look back on my challenges and think about them in a more positive way--wow, look at what I overcame! The plan was to document everything, both good and bad, so that I could think about them more as experiences and lessons learned than as... good and bad. 

Needless to say, I stopped keeping track of those things in April. 

Earlier this month, I pulled out the journal again to update the list. I ended up quitting on that too. 

I do think, though, that in a less chaotic year, thinking about my life this way would be good practice. So, here I am, sharing my list with you in the form of an end-of-year, wrap-up blog post. 

A few quick caveats: 

This year was hard for literally everyone except maybe Jeff Bezos. 

It is not healthy to compare challenges or struggles or suffering.

I am not sharing this because I am looking for sympathy... I believe that being vulnerable is a very important part of the human experience but we can all also use a reminder that we never really know all of what anyone is experiencing. We shouldn’t need that reminder to treat others with love... but the older I get, the more I think those reminders might be necessary.

Things I have survived in 2020:

- A bit of a stalking experience in January which has since been resolved.

- Losing my job, hunting for a new job, securing a new job, training for the new job.

- My first Harry Potter tattoo for my ten-year tattooiversary.

- The fires in Australia.

- An absolutely wonderful trip to NYC with my dad when I got to see both Beetlejuice and Hadestown and have an enormous strawberry cheesecake milkshake from Junior’s. 

- Losing Kobe Bryant.

- Parasite absolutely CRUSHING the Oscars.

- Having a really, really good visit with my grandparents in March before all hell broke loose. 

- Weinstein being convicted and sentenced.

[Everything after this point happened during a global pandemic.]

- Losing Grandmom. I was unable to attend her funeral and still have not had the chance to grieve this loss with my extended family. 

- Losing my health insurance.

- A Zoom party for my Grammy’s 80th birthday.

- Losing Breonna Taylor. And George Floyd. And so, so many others. This is the first year I have really committed to understanding the current race-related issues this country faces and BOY, do we have work to do.

- The stress but success of orchestrating a safe family trip so that I didn’t have to go an entire year without seeing my brother.

- Losing my shifts at my primary job due to virus-related concerns.

- Countless other family happy birthdays over Zoom.

- My 60-year-old mother returning to work face-to-face with a student population that largely ignores all virus-related guidelines despite her working tirelessly for months this spring to offer UHS providers an adequate work-from-home option. 

- Being diagnosed with hypertension.

- A nightmarish friend trip. Despite our best laid plans for a safe and healthy visit, Mother Earth decided to trap me 90 miles north of my best friends for 4 days. I eventually got to see them for about 12 hours and honestly, it was worth it. That is the only time I’ve gotten with them all year.

- Losing Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

- The selection of Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court.

- Our sweet girl Clio being diagnosed with a seizure disorder and then coming down with a life-threatening upper respiratory infection. 

- Learning that my grandmother would be voting for Trump in the 2020 election.

- The actual election.

- Losing Rooster, my sweet, sweet boy.

- Learning that my uncle has been diagnosed with esophageal cancer.

- Missing Thanksgiving with my extended family.

- Getting really excellent holiday gifts for my favorite people.

- Missing Christmas with my extended family.

- Safely spending some holiday time with my immediate family.

That is FAR from everything. But I don’t have the energy? Capacity? Time? to sort through everything.

Here are the things from this year that I am still currently surviving:

- A global pandemic! And all the associated chaos. With my asthma and high blood pressure and obesity, I am considered high risk and am still not able to safely return to my primary job. 

- Hypertension! More on this later.

- Grieving Rooster. In the days after we said goodbye, I wrote a memorial that I will eventually share here. Psychology has recently analyzed data suggesting that losing a pet can be equivalent to losing a relative... I have never felt grief like this. It’s been over a month. I cry every night. 

- Managing Clio’s health. She is still adjusting to her seizure medication, which she gets twice a day, and is still on medication to help with lasting symptoms of the respiratory infection. She is fussy about food and her weight fluctuates a lot week to week. She is also a feral rescue who has only ever been handled by me, my mom, and our vet. If mom and I are ever going to vacation together again, we will need to find someone who can manage catching and pilling her twice a day... no easy feat. Fortunately, at the moment, vacations aren’t really a thing for either my mom or I and I am working hard to approach these concerns in a cross-that-bridge-when-we-come-to-it way.

----

This year has been overwhelming. The last two months alone have been overwhelming. And they would’ve been overwhelming without the added spice of a global pandemic. The number of Americans we have lost to this virus has doubled since I last posted here in mid-August. Some time this week we are likely to reach a point where we’re losing 4,000 Americans per day. PER. DAY. This year has been overwhelming.

----

There were some good things this year, of course. I am so, so thankful for all the time I got with my immediate family and the very brief but vital time I got with my friends. Fortunately I am only ever a text away from my closest friends and we are able to message pretty much every day. I am also extremely glad to have found a place in the fantasy enamel pin community. The family I’ve found in pin-land has carried me through some of my lowest points this year. I spent more time in view of the ocean than I typically do in a given year... even though much of that time was still riddled with anxiety. I did art this year. I read books this year. Some really important ones, in fact. If you read nothing else in 2021, read The New Jim Crow. I also got tattooed! I’m going to include those here because I think the significance of each reflects something interesting and important about all I have survived and am surviving this year.

----

In January, I got my first Harry Potter tattoo! My favorite quote from the entire series is delivered by Hagrid during the Triwizard tournament:

”What’s comin’ will come, and we’ll meet it when it does.” 

I got that incorporated into a tattoo. In January. 

Also in January I got a “Prisoner of Donuts” tattoo... because life just wouldn’t be manageable at all without donuts.

In March, I got a bird of prey carrying a book to represent one of my all time favorite poems, “On Thought in Harness” by Edna St. Vincent Millay. The final lines of that poem:

“Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen. Depart, be lost, but climb.” 

In July, I was able to safely navigate getting a tattoo that symbolizes the saga told in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. LOTR is my first and oldest fandom and the story is still so, so important to me today. The lessons I learned from Tolkien when I was a kid also carried me through some of my hardest moments this year.

Also in July I got a Plumpy tattoo. That’s right. Plumpy. From Candyland. If you haven’t played the game in a while, you may not remember Plumpy. He’s one of the first characters you meet on the game board... and one of the worst cards to see when you’re close to winning the game. You could be three damn squares from the finish line and pull the Plumpy card and back to the beginning of the board you go. Plumpy is a really great reminder that even when we have no choice but to lose ground, we can gain that ground back again. And hey, once you pull the Plumpy card from the deck, you likely won’t see him again for a good long while. 

In October, I was able to safely navigate getting my second Harry Potter tattoo. Neville has always been one of my favorite fantasy characters and I chose to carry him with me permanently. His courage, despite so, so much bullshit, inspires me every day. I also got a nautical tattoo for my mom’s ancestors who came to this country and fought in the Revolutionary War. Just as my family has a long and proud history of fighting for what matters, I too will carry that banner, even if it looks very, very different in the modern age. My third tattoo of the appointment is a cuckoo holding playing cards, a nod to one of most important stories I’ve read: Ken Kesey’s “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” This book has informed not just my personal journey with mental illness but my passion to work in the field as well. My final tattoo of my October appointment, less than a week before the 2020 election, is a weeping Lady Justice. 

----

This year has made me look critically at things I very comfortably ignored for a long time. I would hope that it has done the same for most of you. Very little if any of this year was easy for me... but the most important lessons are never easy to learn. I’ve spent this year more worried and more angry than I’ve ever been before... and all I hope to do moving forward is use that fear and that anger to make this country, this world, a better place. Miss me with your resolutions this year. Every single day we should prioritize surviving and treating others with understanding and active love. I worked hard to do that this year and I will continue to work hard to do that every day. I’m proud of the work I’ve done. And in case it wasn’t clear, I’ll be dragging as many of you as I can on this journey with me. If you really feel the need to make a resolution this year, resolve to learn. Resolve to understand. Resolve to read The New Jim Crow and then TAKE ACTION. Take action with your votes and your voices and your money. Resolve to act.

----

This year wouldn’t let me escape it without being put on blood pressure medication, despite my best efforts to lower my blood pressure without it. Although I had gotten back down into a healthy range for a few weeks, RBG’s death and the landslide of utter shit that followed that completely wrecked all the progress I had made. I’m not happy about adding a new medicine to my regimen. I’m not happy about adding a new chronic diagnosis to my already lengthy laundry list. I did not expect 30 to look like allergy pills and three daily moisturizers and foot stretches and Metamucil and acid reducers and migraine medication and iron supplements and six prunes a day and chronic pain and blood pressure medication... but here we are. I’m exhausted from working so hard to be healthy just to have all that work not be enough. I feel very much like my body is giving up on me... and that is a feeling I am struggling with a lot right now. My soul is a vibrant but powerless passenger in a car speeding towards the edge of a cliff.

I’ll keep trying though. I start my new medication tonight. Hopefully it helps. Hopefully the side effects are manageable. I don’t really feel like I can handle much more... but I guess we keep going until we can’t.   

----

I have no expectations for 2021 to be better. I don’t have much hope for it to be better either. This vaccine will saves lives and that’s really good news. But a lot of other things will be difficult, will stay difficult, will become difficult. I’m going to try to keep fighting, and I hope you do too. 

“What’s comin’ will come, and we’ll meet it when it does.” 

[houseofmysojourn]

Room for Revolution: Reflections on Love at Duke Divinity School

(In case you’re wondering, I’m writing this for my friends, especially those at Duke or at any place like it.)

"So Now You Tell Me"

This was the title of one of the last sermons our graduating class would hear as students, delivered by one of our professors.

The passage? 1 Corinthians 13, the love chapter. The lector read her passage with great conviction, "taking her time". And when she said the words "as for knowledge" she drew out the syllables. Looking directly at the audience she said with a smirk, "it will come to an end", eliciting cheers from many wearied MDivs.

The sermon was, as you might imagine, a sermon about love. Our professor explained to us that if we did not love our congregations and classrooms, we would be ineffective for the causes of justice we would seek to promote. For the first time at Duke, I heard a professor tell students not to champion a cause -- not until their audience knew that they loved them. Our professor told us: If your parishioners do not know that you love them, if you have not sat with them in the hospital and cried with them at the funeral home, your message will fall on deaf ears.

I couldn't have agreed more, and yet I was surprised and perplexed. I wondered if I had entered some kind of a twilight zone. Yeah…"so now you tell me" is right! I stole glances at my classmates seated beside me, and wondered what some of them had to be thinking. I had heard many of them preach. I had heard about their field placements and their "bold stances" on "the issues" and how ignorant and backward and reactionary their audiences had been.

I had heard condescension, pride, frustration, and self-righteousness dripping from the lips of many in that room, including my own. I had heard little, if anything, of love (or even about love!). I had heard few people at Duke say publicly that we needed to love anybody, especially if they were wrong.

Our professor went on in her sermon, "You will not remember most of what we taught you here. You will remember whether or not we loved you. And I want to ask your forgiveness for the ways that we have failed to do that. Forgive us!"

I felt my brow creasing and my eyes widening in disbelief. It was all true, but it felt so out of place -- if I'm being honest, it felt like it was coming out of nowhere. I was glad to hear it, but my heart also ached. It felt like too little, way too late. And honestly, I wasn't sure I was quite ready to forgive anyone.  

Somehow, the Divinity School had become a place where everybody I knew felt like they were being persecuted. Everybody felt like a minority, everybody felt alone, everybody was worn down. Hope of any kind was in short supply.

The only conversation that I had ever had with our preacher that day was one that had come to exemplify this lack of hope. A year earlier, she spoke at an event about the realities that had been uncovered in the wake of the election. She spoke with great conviction about the threats of "Trump's America". I raised my hand and asked what we could actually do for the people we feel are wrong, especially those in our families and churches. We need them too if we want to build something better, so what could we do to bring about transformation?

For at least five full minutes, possibly more, she listed all the reasons why she didn't think that was possible. "Trump's America" was irredeemable. Fact after fact, statistic after statistic was listed. Clearly, she knew far more than I did, and her arguments were damning. She finally concluded by saying, "So I don't think there is much hope".

I broke down and cried. How could she say that? How could she resign all of these people to damnation, and all of us along with them? And if we do not think there's hope, then what the hell are we all doing? Why have these discussions at all?

And then I thought of Jesus. Would it be a faux pas to bring up the power of resurrection hope?

After the event, she came up to me and said, "I apologize if I was harsh, but to be honest with you, I am just so tired". And I deeply appreciated that she took the time to do that. In its own fashion, it was an instance of love shown by a professor. Given everything that was going on with the country and the school, I understood her weariness. She didn't have to use her energy to talk with me, but she did.

Still, I had to ask her, what do we as Christians have if we don't have hope for real transformation? In the end, she didn’t seem to have an answer.

As I walked out of chapel after that final sermon, it struck me that it was a kind of late response to the question I had asked over a year earlier. Or at least, that's how I took it. And I was glad that the answer was "to love". Yet who among us had been prepared by our time at Duke to do that? We had not even learned to be both honest and kind with each other, let alone to love each other -- how then were we to love a church full of people we had learned to despise for their simplicity and ignorance? If the only love we had to give our churches and classrooms was the love we had received at Duke, we were doomed. And now, we were supposed to figure this out. How could we learn to love the people we had only been taught to yell at and dominate in an argument?

We had not learned to love. We had learned, instead, to wield our power and influence for the sake of what was "right" (whatever we thought that may be), such that what passed for "love" on behalf of the needy almost always looked like convincing, coercing, and dominating whoever the bad guys were. And most of us had not been taught the difference, the difference between a life of love and a life of power: a difference as wide and deep, as unfailing and unending as all the scriptures say it is; an impassable gulf, fixed between us and Lazarus; a land of promise which we had not the courage nor the faith to enter.

There was so little trust at Duke, because there was so little genuine love. There was so little love, because there was so little room for love to grow. We had rooms to be sure, but we lacked room, and the holy family was hidden from us. They had gone instead to a place where love had room, room as vast as the night sky in which to let His praises be sung and His good news be declared.

But there was no room for them in the inn.

There was no room, because there was no time, no money, no energy left to consider Him. Just as Lazarus was passed by day after day, so we passed by love with all of our more urgent matters.

For this reason, though we sometimes spoke about love, love itself could not be given, because love took effort we could not spare. But more importantly, because we had no room, love also could not be received. Love is something that has to flow between real human beings, and it cannot flow where there is no room.

But what it is to have "room"?

Room is emptiness. To have room is to have a space which lacks all else, in which all else has been negated. It is a possession which is a kind of poverty. In order for there to be room, human beings must give things up. We must keep a space we have chosen not to fill, although we could. Some treasures must be left outside. It might mean pausing from labor, even though more profit could be had. We might even have to knock down a wall and leave ourselves unguarded. 

Always, to make room for love means the paradox of having a place for nothing. It is to be rich in neediness. It is a desire which is always demanding not that we acquire more, but that we give more up. It is always urging us, "Make room!" If we do not have a truly empty space, a space that we are not trying to fill with any other good, we will not have room for love. We will have indicated by our fullness that we neither need nor want it.

At Duke, there is a certain extent to which everyone had to be a self-made person. We were expected to fill and fulfill all kinds of requirements. Many would have considered it imprudent to really leave margins or really admit need; certainly, it often proved imprudent to admit we needed someone else to fill a need. Depending on other people got me burned more times than I could count. And so everyone had to fight their fight alone. Self-sufficiency was the name of the game, and if you couldn't be self-sufficient, you lost that game. This meant not only being responsible for doing most of your work alone, but also for your own "self-care". That someone else could or would care for you or you for someone else in a meaningful way, did not seem to be a live option. Fill your own holes, shore up your own breeches.

And yet, if you cannot be needy for love, you will lose your soul.

There was no love at Duke because there was no room. There were no margins in our lives where love could write His notes, and certainly no spaces between the lines where love could make His critiques. When no room is left for love, then every critique is an attack, because it must overwrite what is already written. It cannot make itself clear in spaces that have been left open with trust for that purpose. There is no room for growth, there is no room for editing or expanding, or realizing how wrong you really are. For many of us, there is no room to be anything other than a victim.

There was a sense in which I know we felt we couldn't leave the space open -- there was too much work to do, too many problems to solve, and too much to try and protect. For many of us, there was always a sense of threat, a sense that we could never really say the right thing, write the right thing, or work hard enough to prove ourselves. And for many there was also the sense of oppression, that others in some way were always looking to beat us down or rob us.

And part of us chose to succumb to it. The endless conveyor belt of very-important-assignments and very-important-discussion-topics is irresistible at institutions of higher learning. And it is far easier to deal with those things, than to learn to love one another and to face our true selves. And so we all took on more than we could handle, more in terms of work and more in terms of quandaries and problems to be solved. We were all trying to save the world, to figure out how to stop the literal and figural "Trump's America". And so we tended to live where our professor was when I first met her -- without hope, and so, so tired.

Love was the only thing that could sustain us. Love was the only thing we were so truly, desperately needing, though we could not see it.

And I think so many still cannot see it. There are so many ways for folks in those places to be lost, no matter what side of any issue they fall on, but only one blessed way for them to be found. I pray that those who heard the sermon on that day will go forward to their places and will seriously stop to think about what it means to love. I hope they will be revolutionized, because nothing less than a revolution can give them that ability, a revolution of the self beyond any victimization, beyond any oppression, beyond any rulers or powers or authorities. It is a revolution totally undetermined by power; and yet, because it needs no preconditions, it is the most powerful force in all the world.

If you believe in this revolution, then you will have no need for power or influence or prestige or accomplishments. Neither you, nor your movement, nor your philosophical school, nor your church will be slaves to these things any longer. But if you do not believe in such a revolution, then you will always be itching, gnawing, digging, grasping at what this evil age holds out as the necessary tools for promoting what is "right". You will always be a slave to so-called "practicality" and "reason". You will be a slave to whatever you think you cannot help, be it your social status, your addictions, your pathologies, your disabilities, or any kind of victimization you have undergone. You will deal out what you call love like a capitalist with a commodity: piecemeal, and only to those who deserve it. The only way you will see to accomplish good, is to take power. You will not see good as its own power, and you will not see yourself as either intrinsically good or intrinsically powerful.

You will live and die by the same sword.

The sword or the cross my friends, the sword or the cross.

[floridaprelaw-blog]

Duke Lacrosse Case: Guilty Until Proven Innocent

By Matthew Ginsberg, University of South Florida, Class of 2021

August 14, 2020

Between racial injustice, gender inequality, and athletic privilege bringing evocative feelings of vexation to so many Americans, who are fed up with the hierarchy of power dictating outcomes in a court of law, it is no wonder most citizens cannot help themselves from hearing a news story and quickly jumping to preconceived conclusions. Between Brock Turner, Peyton Manning, and Ben Roethlisberger to name a few, there have been plenty of instances where white male athletes have been accused of committing acts of sexual misconduct and sexual assault by alleged victims. Rather than allowing an ongoing investigation to run its course, so that the courts can determine a final verdict, citizens, in many instances, have a predisposed tendency to assume that white male athletes are guilty of the accusations against them, before taking the time to hear both sides of the story. One case that had massive appeal from major news networks and continues to be prevalent in modern day America was the stripper who cried rape against former Duke lacrosse co- captains David Evans, Collin Finnerty, and Reade Seligmann. 

Two weeks after losing the Division 1 National Championship lacrosse game to Johns Hopkins University by a final score of 9-8, three of the four co-captains representing Duke lacrosse held a day- long party with teammates at their off- campus house in Durham, North Carolina on March 13th, 2006. To celebrate a hard-fought season, two “exotic dancers'' were hired, one of whom was Crystal Mangum, a 28-year-old African American single mother of two. After the party had concluded, Ms. Mangum went to the hospital and told healthcare personnel that she had been “gang raped” and was in desperate need of medical assistance. She went on to tell her nurse that members of the Duke lacrosse team had “repeatedly kicked me and said that if I did not get in the bathroom with three of the players, they would stick a broom up my ass and force me.” With physical evidence that a traumatic experience occurred, and reason to believe the alleged victim had been sexually attacked, a nurse examiner was brought in to conduct a sexual assault evidence collection kit examination, in an effort to preserve evidence that would likely connect Ms. Mangum to the players who “gang raped” her. But within 48 hours, the story was leaked to the New York Times, and the portrayal of young, rich, privileged white men, who had taken advantage of a defenseless African American mother through exploitation, manipulation, and gang- like initiatives was quickly conveyed to the public. 

After the New York Times made breaking news headlines of the rape allegations against the Duke lacrosse team, it was not long before other major news networks such as FOX, CNN, and MSNBC followed suit and began broadcasting their takes on what had occurred the night of the party. Entitlement and invincibility seemed to be at the forefront of highly publicized news stories, making issues of white over black, male over female, rich over poor, and educated over uneducated, the journalists’ and reporters’ vocal points of attention. With sexual exploitation being a serious issue at many college campuses, citizens were fed up and began protesting all across the country, demanding that every player involved be held accountable for their inexplicable actions. As public attention exacerbated rapidly, every player on the Duke lacrosse team was required to give DNA samples to a local laboratory, so that medical practitioners could see if there was a match to the sexual assault kit examination conducted on Ms. Mangum. Before any clear evidence was released to suggest members of the Duke lacrosse team had committed any acts of negligence, wrongdoing, and/ or disregard of the law for their own selfish gain, however, Duke was under attack by their own faculty members, activist organizations, and people all across the country for neglecting the allegations, condoning sexual assault, and protecting their players. Although it takes nearly one month for the results of a sexual assault kit examination to become conclusive, public pressure was rapidly mounting, causing nearly every player on the team to hire defense attorneys. The perceived misogynistic and criminal behavior by the players forced Duke to forfeit games the following season and caused head coach Mike Pressler to resign after 16 seasons with the program, which was significant considering Duke was ranked as the #1 lacrosse team and projected favorites to win the NCAA championship. Most people familiar with the allegations believed that it was only a matter of time before conclusive evidence would reveal the identities of the Duke players who committed the “gang rape,” but there was still one problem… With all of the attention focused on the alleged victim and how to handle disciplining the players involved, most failed to consider the possibility that there was another side of the story waiting to be told. 

After a month of 24/7 news stories constantly criticizing and ridiculing the Duke lacrosse team for protecting each other when a helpless sexual assault victim was desperately seeking justice, the results of the sexual assault kit examination conducted on Ms. Mangum were released to the public. According to the medical report, after a thorough examination of the DNA samples found on the alleged victim the night of the party, there was no evidence that matched any of the DNA samples conducted on all 48 players representing the Duke lacrosse team. On the contrary, the samples matched two men that Ms. Mangum admitted to having sexual intercourse with one night prior to the party. With no physical evidence of a “gang rape,” news stories broke out doubting the credibility of the allegations; however, the skepticism was short-lived. Mike Nifong, who was the district attorney defending Ms. Mangum, pulled up pictures of every player on the Duke lacrosse team onto his computer and asked the plaintiff to pick out the three players she believed committed the “gang rape.” Not only was this immoral, unethical, and borderline illegal, considering in normal proceedings a wide range of pictures of potential suspects are used to match the physical description recalled by the alleged victim, but it created a situation where only Duke lacrosse players could be held liable. After selecting David Evans, Collin Finnerty, and Reade Seligmann with “100% certainty that they were perpetrators,” law enforcement received warrants for their arrests and detained all three suspects. In a matter of a month and half, Mr. Evans, Mr. Finnerty, and Mr. Seligmann went from being college lacrosse stars to facing 20-30 years in prison if convicted. With their futures in great jeopardy, the three accused players had no choice but to prepare for the hardest “lacrosse game” of their lives. 

After each player was bailed out by their parents, Reed Seligmann went against the desires of his defense attorneys and held a private news conference with his teammates, local reporters, and family members present. Nearly two months after the allegations went public and for the first time a Duke lacrosse player spoke his truth about what had occurred the night of the party. In a very emotional and persuasive speech, Mr. Seligmann announced that “no one on the team has come forward because we are all innocent. David Evans, Collin Finnerty, and I are all innocent and will continue to cooperate with investigators to the fullest extent possible. While the news media and people in positions of power are desperate for the truth to unravel, so are we, the players and victims of the false allegations against us. Justice and the truth will emerge to the forefront of public attention, but it will not be with anyone from the Duke lacrosse team serving a prison sentence for a crime we did not commit. The courtroom will clear our names; all of you have been told some fantastic lies.” After the speech was played on major news networks, many citizens once again questioned if Ms. Mangum had falsely accused the three suspects of committing a “gang rape” or if Mr. Seligmann was desperate to avoid prison time and protect his teammates. The speech left many questions still lingering, like what purpose Ms. Mangum would have for making up the story of a “gang rape” in the first place or if there was any actual evidence to connect the suspects to the crime. But because the judicial system moved at a slow pace to ensure all of the necessary evidence had been gathered and to allow the plaintiffs and defendant time to fully prepare for trial, it would not be until 13 months after the allegations began that an official trial would proceed. 

By the time the trial began on April 12, 2007 the defendants’ lives and reputations had been destroyed. Mr. Evans, Mr. Finnerty, and Mr. Seligmann had been suspended indefinitely from Duke University, their lacrosse careers were over, and they were on the cusp of facing maximum 30- year sentences in prison if convicted. The only virtues that remained in the defendant’s favor were hope, courage, and prayer to strengthen them. Early on in the trial, Ms. Mangum was questioned about the night of the alleged assault and recalled the “gang rape” taking place around 11:20pm. Throughout her testimony, the plaintiff struggled to remember specific details pertinent to the case, like what had transpired in the moments leading up to the assault and who she called after she had been allegedly raped. After leaving the stand, the defense attorneys for Mr. Evans, Mr. Finnerty, and Mr. Seligmann introduced evidence to the court for each of the defendants showing that they all had clear alibis. If the plaintiff was gang raped at 11:20p.m., as Ms. Mangum had testified, then why was there video footage of David Evans at the bank from 11:19p.m.- 11:27p.m.? The footage revealed to the courtroom showed a clear visual display of Mr. Evans face in front of an ATM machine, making it clear that if the assault had taken place, it was not when Ms. Mangum had testified. Next, cell phone records were shown to the court of Mr. Finnerty and Mr. Seligmann, revealing that both of the defendants had been on phone calls with their girlfriends during the alleged attack. If Mr. Evans was at the bank and Mr. Finnerty and Mr. Seligmann were on phone calls at 11:20p.m. the night of the party, then there was no possible way the three men were together, let alone committing a sexual attack when Ms. Mangum had claimed. But, even so, 13 months after the alleged assault, it was quite possible that Ms. Mangum had mistakenly stated the wrong time, hinting at the possibility that she still may have been “gang raped”.

With the defendants’ alibis failing to rule out the possibility that the assault occurred, the defense attorneys representing the Duke lacrosse players dug even deeper. Records were released to the court showing that two days prior to the alleged attack, social services had threatened to take Ms. Mangum’s children away, due to clear evidence found of excessive drug use, alcohol issues, and mental health problems that gave them reason to believe she was incapable of responsibly raising her children. This caused the players’ defense attorneys to question whether Ms. Mangum was actually “gang raped” as she had alleged, or if she had made up the story in an effort to divert attention away from her addictions and psychological issues, so she could maintain custody of her children. The final piece of evidence used against Ms. Mangum was the release of cell phone records after the party concluded, revealing that the plaintiff had called the exotic dance company she worked for at approximately 11:59p.m. to request they schedule her the following night. For a woman that had just been allegedly “gang raped,” it seemed quite suspicious that her first phone call after she had escaped such a traumatic experience was to the company she worked for, instead of the police or a trusted friend or family member. 

As the trial continued, Mike Nifong, the district attorney representing Ms. Mangum, called to the stand an expert DNA analyst to discuss the findings of the sexual assault kit examination conducted on Ms. Mangum, as well as the DNA results of the Duke lacrosse team. After Mr. Nifong initially tried to convince the judge that the DNA found on the plaintiffs’ body and at the scene was not conclusive enough to outright deny it was the three players accused, cross- examinations conducted by the defense attorneys representing Mr. Evans, Mr. Finnerty, and Mr. Seligmann revealed there was another side of the story that would shock not only the courtroom, but everyone in the nation following the trial. After the lead defense attorney questioned the motives behind Mike Nifong supporting Ms. Mangum, the expert DNA analyst, while being cross- examined, revealed that he thoroughly reviewed every DNA test submitted by the Duke lacrosse players and Ms. Mangum, and concluded with 100% certainty that there was no evidence connecting any of the players to the alleged crime. To make matters worse, the expert DNA analyst then revealed that in a conversation with Mr. Nifong months prior to the trial, he explained that all of the evidence in the investigation showed clear indications that Ms. Mangum had made up the assault; however, because Mr. Nifong was running for the re-election of lead district attorney in Durham County, North Carolina and his polling numbers had skyrocketed after taking on the case, he chose to continue fighting on Ms. Mangum’s behalf. For a man who had been a prosecutor for 29 years to go against his sworn obligation to defend the law and knowingly attack three innocent Duke lacrosse players for his own political gain exemplifies the epitome of disgrace and shows just how corrupt people in positions of power can be, especially when they are trying to get re-elected. Aware that the repercussions of his deplorable actions could have resulted in three innocent men being sentenced to 30 years behind bars and choosing to proceed anyway shows Mr. Nifongs’ true cowardly disposition. 

After a year and one month with the reputation of being perceived as rapists, getting constantly insulted by the national news media, and having their college careers ruined, Mr. Evans, Mr. Finnerty, and Mr. Seligmann were found innocent of a crime they never committed. While this case will go down as a political catastrophe and journalistic tragedy, it is important to examine and never forget because it shows the extent at which the mass news media can frame a story and skew public opinion, when they themselves may lack the information necessary to provide a well- informed story. It also exposes the extremities in which people running for public office will go to warrant a successful campaign. Although “fake news” being “the enemy of the people” became prevalent through President Donald Trump, this case symbolizes one of many instances where the news failed citizens and the men accused by reporting based on believability, without doing enough due diligence to provide an accurate depiction of what actually transpired. When dealing with a crime as sensitive as sexual assault, there is no room for reports that are misleading. Journalists and news anchors choosing to take an angle based on what they believe will sell best, with the hope of attracting the most viewers possible for maximal financial gain, is a recipe for disaster because citizens are dependent on the news to act as the unbiased median between themselves and newsworthy topics. In the case of the Duke lacrosse players, not only did the perceived perpetrators’ lives get taken from them, even though they were found innocent in trial, but by favoring the alleged victim and later discovering the allegations made were false, the news media hurt victims who are actually sexually assaulted by making them seem less credible. Living in a country that requires all alleged perpetrators of crime to be guaranteed the right of innocence until being found guilty reaffirms the importance of the mass news media allowing the courts to determine a final verdict, instead of acting as if they are the judge or jury themselves. Moving forward, it is imperative that citizens understand that the national news media are for- profit companies that directly compete for viewership, which is significant because it shows that just because a story is shown on an accredited news network does not mean that all of the facts surrounding it have been properly gathered and broadcasted.

________________________________________________________________

Account, Admin. “IRS Sticks Former Duke Lacrosse Player and Falsely Accused Rapist with $6.5M Tax Bill.” AccountingWEB, 21 Mar. 2011, www.accountingweb.com/aa/law-and-enforcement/irs-sticks-former-duke-lacrosse-player-and-falsely-accused-rapist-with-65m.

Block, Justin. “How the Duke Lacrosse Rape Case Became A Stain on The Legal System.” HuffPost, HuffPost, 29 Dec. 2016, www.huffpost.com/entry/duke-lacrosse-rape-espn-30-for-30_n_56e07e33e4b065e2e3d486f7.

CBS News. “Duke and Lacrosse Players Reach Settlement.” CBS News, CBS Interactive, 18 June 2007, www.cbsnews.com/news/duke-and-lacrosse-players-reach-settlement/.

Chang, Lulu. “The Duke Lacrosse Rape Scandal Was 8 Years Ago, So Where Are The Accused Now?” Bustle, Bustle, 29 May 2014, www.bustle.com/articles/26053-the-duke-lacrosse-rape-scandal-was-8-years-ago-so-where-are-the-accused-now.

Friedman, Santana. “Duke Lacrosse Incident.” Today.edu, 22 July 2007, www.today.duke.edu/showcase/lacrosseincident/.

Hicks, Sean. “Duke Lacrosse Team Suspended Following Sexual Assault Allegations.” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 13 Nov. 2009, www.history.com/this-day-in-history/duke-lacrosse-team-suspended-following-sexual-assault-allegations.

Luther, Jessica. “‘I'm Broken’: The Duke Lacrosse Rape Accuser, 10 Years Later.” Vocativ, Vocativ, 10 Mar. 2016, www.vocativ.com/news/295731/im-broken-the-duke-lacrosse-rape-accuser-10-years-later/index.html.

Miller, Laura. “The Duke Lacrosse Rape Scandal: The Definitive Account.” Salon, Salon.com, 9 Apr. 2014, www.salon.com/2014/04/06/the_duke_lacrosse_rape_scandal_the_definitive_account/.

Picture Credit: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1360822/Were-Duke-lacrosse-players-wrongly-accused-rape-paid-20MILLION-secret-settlement.html 

Reporter, Daily Mail. “Were the Duke Lacrosse Players Wrongly Accused of Rape Paid $20MILLION Each in Secret Settlement?” Daily Mail Online, Associated Newspapers, 28 Feb. 2011, www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1360822/Were-Duke-lacrosse-players-wrongly-accused-rape-paid-20MILLION-secret-settlement.html.

Sanchez, Ray. “Durham Settles Lawsuit by Former Duke Lacrosse Players.” CNN, Cable News Network, 16 May 2014, www.cnn.com/2014/05/16/justice/durham-lacrosse-scandal-settlement/index.html.

Stanley, Matthew. “Looking Back at the Duke Lacrosse Scandal 10 Years Later.” ABC11 Raleigh-Durham, 13 Mar. 2016, www.abc11.com/duke-lacrosse-scandal-mike-nifong/1244112/.

Terranova, Justin. “ESPN's '30 for 30' Reexamines the Duke Lacrosse Scandal.” New York Post, New York Post, 11 Mar. 2016, www.nypost.com/2016/03/11/espns-30-for-30-reexamines-the-duke-lacrosse-scandal/.

Yamato, Jen. “The Stripper Who Cried 'Rape': Revisiting the Duke Lacrosse Case Ten Years Later.” The Daily Beast, The Daily Beast Company, 12 Mar. 2016, www.thedailybeast.com/the-stripper-who-cried-rape-revisiting-the-duke-lacrosse-case-ten-years-later.

Photo Credit: Ildar Sagdejev

[andthentherewasgrey]

August 5, 2017

How quickly worlds can change. A country with a new president. A dear friend without a mom. An idea of God that I was so sure about. My go-to drink at a coffee house (cortado -> hot brown sugar vanilla -> iced brown sugar cinnamon). The focus of a new church service. A feeling of desolation and loss of identity to a feeling of fullness and deep joy (or the reverse). Endless time to write, waste, watch, and worry morphing into only Thursday mornings to mow the lawn and check my email and adjust my bank accounts.  Spending my working days transitioning from cleaning large industrial machinery and halfway bossing 15 millennials to actual bossing 22 millennials and being responsible for making millions (400k a DAY) of little brown fake-chocolate donuts using 2000+ lbs of oil a day. Living alone in a house wondering what to do with the seeming infinite amount of minutes and months left in my life to living with a friend and a half; my world suddenly revolving around a person less than 3 feet tall. With two more faceless native babies moving in before the year is out. A year ago, last month, I’d never truly held a baby and certainly hadn’t given much thought to living with any or having one of my own.

It’s borderline embarrassing reading the things I wrote even a year ago and downright humiliating to go further back. Which, according to Brene, means I’m using this space correctly. i also like to think that the gap between the things I think and feel and wonder about and my embarrassment of them is closing. Which hopefully means I’m getting braver and growing more quickly so that even things I thought, felt, and was curious about a month ago are already things I’ve become accustomed to.

Exhibition: My extreme discomfort and embarrassment at telling something they smell. The worry that I’ll forget about a child altogether and leave them in the car or house or lose them in the store. The day I switched uniform colors at work and couldn’t look anyone in the eye for fear of the attention. The time everyone (okay maybe only some) saw my underwear in church. The terror at hearing myself teaching and receiving feedback on where I can improve. The uncertainty at beginning ability tree connections and wondering if I could handle coordinating monthly programs has now become an afterthought that I plan in an afternoon.

I still answer Wilbroad’s emails ridiculously late. No matter how clean I try to keep the house, I’m still a contender with FJD for who can leave the living room looking most tornado like. The thing I like most about living with a kid is that it’s 100% welcomed to be in the moment with them, my absolute best and favorite quality to offer. AND I haven’t yet figured out (slash made time) how to be present with myself enough to be as present as I want to be with others. I get the things done: teaching, ability tree, 5:30 service, house renovations, starting a new job, showing up at my friends big life moments - but it truly is difficult for me to engage with myself in a meaningful way. To practice spirituality in a meaningful way. To connect with many of the people I love most in a meaningful way.

If naturally I’m not so great at thinking, speaking, or even doing one thing at a time, its exponentially harder when a little alarm also goes off in my head every 15 seconds (or less) saying “what is she doing? where is she? how could I handle this? what do I need to prepare for to do the next thing?” And she isn’t even my kid. I just enjoy her and spend most of my waking hours with her and her mom. And also my mom...And a new job with 22 new people. (And I wonder why its difficult to allot my time as I had previously).

We have the most unconventional pseudo family. A mom and her daughter. Me and my sometimes dog Remington. And soon to be kids that are neither of ours, but that I can’t imagine won’t feel like ours until we give them back to whoever they belong to.

FJD officially gets adopted on Monday, about 36 hours from now. And when she does, it will be the most for-sure relationship of our little crew. Our arrangement is most likely transient - if SD or I find boys to marry or if (when) the kids we have get put back in their homes. At first I tried to curb my engagement to some extent because of the unsureness, but like all loves, it’s not a guarantee and no one is better off from receiving less love. As Jamie Tworkowsi said the year I found TWLOHA:

"We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don’t get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won’t solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we’re called home."

I don’t do it right. I neglect the wrong things. Sometimes, I get impatient with FJD, I’ve learned I’m quite controlling when I feel out of control or criticized. That’s weird 7 thing that goes to 1 in stress or worry. I don’t listen to SD or mom or MN or whoever. I don’t reach out to friends and family as much as. I get downright angry at the things SD’s mom does. I do good things in place of following Jesus.

And it’s the last one that absolutely has to change.

Somehow my life has always come back to orphans. As if my desire to help the parentless is a sort of metaphor for how I wish someone would take care of my emotions. (I say that in jest, but maybe? And if it is accurate, is that so wrong?) My childhood dream of being a house mom at an AIDS orphanage in Africa. Telling B (a partial orphan himself) on JN’s barn rooftop that I thought my life would somehow have to do with kids with no place to go. Invisible Children being my saving grace after he died. Uganda and L’esperance and all that has become Weight of Glory. Now FJD and the native foster kids that will begin to poor in and out of our makeshift home. The haunting reality the B’s death gives me courage to believe I can love hard in the face of unfair, insurmountable, and infuriating odds, yet lose everything and still have a soul.  

The oddity of only noticing the pattern in retrospect, as if my life continues to tumble into orphans and once I’ve seen, I can’t un-see. All of it an accident turned side project, turned life trajectory. 600 native babies in Adiar County Oklahoma and 7 foster homes. I don’t even know if I believe that statistic because of it’s gaping disparity. And me, a White girl facing the only discrimination I’ll likely face in my lifetime who can’t legally adopt or foster any of them except through my friend and roommate. Nearly 200 Ugandan children dependent on Weight of Glory each month and I can hardly even answer Wilbroad’s emails and begrudgingly procrastinate our biggest fundraiser every year.

But, God. Rich in mercy. Full of light and truth.

8 For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light 9 (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth)10 and find out what pleases the Lord. 11 Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. 12 It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said:

“Wake up, sleeper,    rise from the dead,    and Christ will shine on you.”

Ephesians 5:8-14

I want to be awake.

“It seemed to me that all my other guesses had been only self-pleasing dreams spun out of my wishes, but now I was awake.” -C.S.Lewis, Till We Have Faces.

As much as it bothers me sometimes that wanting “the Light” sounds eerily similar to an episode of The Path, I confess my unbelief, my negligence, my indifference, self sufficiency, hypocrisy, ideology, indulgence, and self centeredness. I put them into the light. Give me a heart of faith. Let me give you my days and rest in your love throughout. Let me be convicted by your words and do what you say. I want to follow you.

Let me be a child of the light; reflecting all goodness, righteousness, and truth.

[ruminativerabbi]

Great Leaps Forward

Every generation has its “you know where you were when” moments. My dad used to say that there simply weren’t any Americans his age who didn’t know where they were when they heard about Pearl Harbor or where they were and what they were doing when they heard that FDR had died. In a different age, that same comment would have been true with respect to Fort Sumter and Lincoln. But for people of my generation, the two “where you were and what you were doing” moments are definitely the assassination of John F. Kennedy and the precise moment Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.

I was ten years old when President Kennedy was assassinated. It was half past noon in Dallas when the shots rang out, so still early afternoon in New York. I was in Mrs. D’Antona’s fifth grade classroom on the second floor of P.S. 196 when our principal, Mr. Tauschner, came into our classroom and whispered the bad news to our teacher, who promptly burst into tears. Having no choice, the principal himself told us what had happened. And then someone brought a television into our classroom and we were allowed to spend the rest of the school day watching the news.

When Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, I was sixteen. I was lying on my back on a blanket on the lawn behind the dorm at the University of Vermont in Burlington in which they housed participants in the special music program for high school students they used to run there each summer. Lying at right angles to my head was Lily Goodman, normally of Wilmington, Delaware, but that summer also spending her summer on the UVM campus in the same program I was in (and being much more talented a singer than I was a pianist). Between our heads lay my red transistor radio tuned to some local news station with the volume up as loud as it could go. We listened patiently to endless replays of the great man’s words of earlier that day: “Houston, Tranquility Base here; the Eagle has landed.” And then, just few minutes before eleven PM, we heard the man, now speaking from the lunar surface, say that he was taking one single step as a man, but that that step was simultaneously a giant leap forward for all mankind. And it was my memory of that specific experience that came right back to me last week when I read that Beresheet, a 1290-pound spacecraft owned and operated by Israel Aerospace Industries, had successfully lifted off on its lunar mission last Friday atop a Falcon 9 rocket owned and operated by Elon Musk’s SpaceX company. The plan is for Beresheet (appropriately, “Genesis”) to orbit the earth for a while, then to depart for the moon under its own steam and then, after a journey of about seven weeks, to touch down on the moon on April 11.

It’s a pretty exclusive club, the one to which belong nations who have done this: only Russia, China, and our own country have managed successfully to land spacecrafts on the moon. But the club is expanding: India is expected to become its fifth member later this spring, as is Japan within a couple of years. Still, it won’t be that big a club even after India and Japan join. And Beresheet’s, once it lands on the lunar surface, has another distinction worth mentioning because it will be the first private-sector landing on the lunar surface in history.

It’s not hard to understand why this club has so few members. For one thing, it’s a really long ways off—the moon is about 239,000 miles away from the earth. And it’s a journey fraught with dangers and difficulties. And it costs a fortune to undertake a project like this—the price tag for the Beresheet mission is a cool $100 million, and that is the least amount ever spent to send a landing craft to the moon. (Could that detail be related to the fact that this will be the first lunar landing not paid for by a government spending money it prints up itself? I wonder!) Of special interest to me personally, though, is the list of digitized items Beresheet is going to leave on the moon for future visitors—perhaps even some eventually not from Earth—to ponder: details about the spacecraft and the crew that built it, an Israeli flag, a copy of Israel’s Declaration of Independence, dictionaries in 27 languages and all of Wikipedia, the memoirs of a Shoah survivor, a Hebrew-language Bible, recordings of the most popular Israeli songs, and some children’s drawings inspired by the mission. Just thinking about someone from a distant galaxy coming across this one day and trying to puzzle through all that data is intoxicating!

Things seem to be going well; the spacecraft sent home its first selfie just the other day, looking over its own shoulder at itself and the earth behind it from a distance of about 37,600 miles. (If you look carefully, you can see the outlines of South America and Australia.)

But all of this excitement regarding Beresheet has awakened another set of emotions in me as well. This summer will be the fiftieth anniversary of Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon. Last December marked the fiftieth anniversary of Apollo 8, in the course of which the first picture of “earthrise” was snapped when Frank Borman, James Lovell, and William Anders became the first human beings to leave low earth orbit, reach the moon, orbit it, and then return to earth safely. There’s a “Beresheet” moment in this story as well: Apollo 8 orbited the moon ten times, in the course of which they made their memorable recording of the first verses in Genesis and Astronaut Anders took his now famous picture of the earth rising out of the black of space.

What happened to our need to discover? The incredible successes of the mid-twentieth century, which included Project Mercury, which sent the first American into space; Project Gemini, which first brought astronauts into space for an extended period of time; the Apollo program, which brought astronauts to the moon and back; the Skylab program, which put our nation’s first space station into orbit; the Space Shuttle program, which endured two terrible tragedies but nonetheless succeeded in bringing reusable spacecrafts into the picture—all of these were enormous scientific, intellectual, and cultural achievements. But somewhere along the way, we seem to have to lose our way.

NASA still exists, of course. We continue to play a leadership role in the International Space Station, although our astronauts travel there and back on Russian Soyuz spacecraft. There are all sorts of research missions underway to Mars and beyond. But the idea of human-led exploration itself—the principled willingness to send people to go where no one has ever gone and to do things that no one has ever done, thus to make more great leaps forward for humankind in the Armstrongian sense—that feels as though it has somehow vanished from the American psyche. The last American to stand on the moon, Eugene A. Cernan, was mission commander of Apollo 17, which went to the moon and returned in 1972. Apollo 18, 19, and 20 were cancelled due to budget cuts.

Mentioning the Space Shuttle program makes me rethink my comment above about the “where we were and what we were doing” moments in our lives, because I remember—and clearly—where I was in and what I was doing in 1986 when Challenger broke apart just seconds after take-off and all seven crew members died and where I was on February 1, 2003, when Columbia disintegrated upon re-entering the earth’s atmosphere, which disaster took the life of all seven of its crew members as well. (There’s an Israel connection there too, of course, because the sole non-American on board was Colonel Ilan Ramon, the first Israeli astronaut.)

But those disasters only made us more eager to succeed and, indeed the Space Shuttle program continued until 2011, by the end flying off on 133 successful missions involving 833 crew members (including the fourteen who died on the Challenger and the Columbia). And then we lost interest. Or it feels as though we have. And that is why the launch of Beresheet, for all it excites me, also unnerves me a bit by forcing me to wonder where our American sense of pioneering, of derring-do, of courage in the face of incredible obstacles, of exploration of the unknown, where all that went to? I suppose lots of people can think of lots of better uses for all that money—and the expenses involved were, to use the term literally for once, astronomical. But what price tag can or should we put on the sense that we are actively engaged in setting out on new paths, including ones on which no human being has ever travelled? Or that we are not wrapping up the search for knowledge in the universe, but only beginning to fathom what it is we don’t know about…everything? Underlying the need to explore, after all, is a foundation of humility born of the conviction that knowing how little we know can and should energize us to step further into the seductive unknown rather than retreat into blissful unknowing like timid children.

On one of the Saturday nights after the appearance of the new moon in the nighttime sky each month, we at Shelter Rock gather outside to recite the ancient prayer called Kiddush Levanah, the Sanctification of the Moon. Taking the moon as the embodiment of the unattainable, we use the sight of its return to the nighttime sky as an opportunity to renew our commitment to seeking to know the Creator through the contemplation of Creation. As I look up at the sliver of moon in the dark, I occasionally think of that night long ago in Vermont when I lay on a blanket and looked up at the moon as the first man in history took some first tentative steps onto its surface. It’s that precise sense of courage mixed with awe and, yes, humility, that I wish we could summon up again in our American psyche to remind us that there really is no upper limit to what we can dream of doing. 

[inner-muse]

2, 5, 14 for the OC Codex prompts for Kelandris and Karena

Hey so remember that time you asked me this ages and ages ago?! I didn’t forget about it!!! Codex ask prompts!! I’ll split them up by character, with most below the cut because long posts make me sad.

Kelandris Trevelyan

2. A letter written by your OC’s family member

(From her older sister)“Kelandris,

Thank the Maker you’re alive! And thank you for informing us. I write you from the Trevelyan estate – I rejoined our family here when news of the Conclave’s destruction reached Ostwick. Losing Her Holiness was bad enough; losing you as well was heartbreaking. Now that the mood here has lifted, however, I will return to the chapel soon— though I shall have to temper my joy, first. The whole Chantry is in mourning for the Most Holy, nor was I the only Sister who lost someone close to them. It would be cruel to flaunt our family’s good fortune.

The others are just as glad; I suspect this is not the only note you will receive. Asharion is already scoffing at your new title. I must admit, I never thought I’d be glad to hear our brother’s complaints. He refused to speak of you after your supposed death; he refused to speak of almost everything. The silence was terribly disturbing. Within five minutes of your letter’s arrival, though, he was back in fine form. “As if Kelandris needed any more reason to be smug,” were his exact words. (He smiled as he said it, but don’t tell him I said so.)

Herald of Andraste is quite the impressive title, to be sure. Did you trulyI confess to much awe and confusionIt seems impossible to believe, and yet(I fear my thoughts on the matter are as disordered as this parchment. Our lady Mother would be scandalized to see such scribbles.)

Whatever else may have changed, you are still, and will always be, my little sister. I know it would be futile to say “Stay safe” – you’ve never let anyone face  danger on your behalf. So instead, I will leave you with “Be careful.”

Lady’s blessings,Not that you need them,Ellanora”

5. Letters between two of your OC’s companions about them

(From Josie)“Madame Vivienne,

Thank you once again for the fine list of boutiques. The Inquisitor and I made good use of your recommendations. Your hopes for Lady Kelandris were well-founded; her sense of style is impeccable. I cannot judge whether she comports herself as well in silks as she does in armor, having never seen her on the battlefield, but she does cut a striking figure.

She has insisted I withhold the full report until our return. A mere letter could never do justice to all the Orlesian finery, she claims; such things are best described in person, preferably over tea and fine pastries. Perhaps you would care to join us, once we are back in Skyhold? Lady Kelandris has offered to play hostess. Seeker Cassandra and Leliana are invited as well. We have already seen to refreshments – your suggested chocolatier is delightful, and the Inquisitor knows a patisserie that sells the most lovely lemon tarts. You will find the address enclosed.

Respectfully yours,Josephine Montilyet”

14. Your OC talking about your favorite quest

(I have no idea who she’s talking to, but it must be someone close for her to be quite so open.)“Afraid? I faced down a self-styled god who keeps an Archdemon as a fucking pet, and you’re asking if I was afraid?” (She laughs.) “I was terrified. Honestly, I was certain I was going to die… But I would have, to save the people of Haven. The Inquisition, the pilgrims, the refugees— everyone was depending on me. I wasn’t about to let a little thing like ‘fear’ get in my way. Although… afterwards, in the snow… that was— difficult. Determination kept me going for a while, but the fires of conviction can only do so much against an actual blizzard. I will confess, I started to wonder if I wasn’t meant to be a martyr, after all. It seemed a particularly ignoble end, freezing to death mere hours after surviving the fall of Haven. Then again, Andraste perished in fire; I suppose it would have been poetic for Her Herald to perish in ice.

“Yes. I do think I’ve been chosen. Or touched, or blessed, or something, at least. How many others were at the Conclave? Hundreds, at least. And yet, out of everyone, I was the one survived. I know how to fight; I know how to lead. I have the courage to stare down a dragon – I know not everyone could have done what I did. I’ve always thrived under pressure. I’m good at this, all of this. It’s hard not to believe that Andraste has a hand in my presence here.”

Karena Cousland

2. A letter written by your OC’s family member

(Written in a six-year-old’s untidy scrawl. I’m not crying, you’re crying.)“Deer Dear Auntie,

I kno you are still out saling saleing saeling sailing but Papa says if I rite a letter you will see it soon. Was Grate Grandfather reely really a pirate? And Grandmother. Sinse you are on the'ir ship you must be a pirate too! Is there lots of pirate treshur tresure treasure there? Will you bring me back a sword?

Your favrit nefew favorite nephew, Oren”

(Added below, in a smaller, neater hand)“Karena—

I tried explaining “privateers” to Oren. I’ve told him that Mother and Grandfather hunted Orlesian ships for King and Country, not gold and glory, but he won’t hear of it. Perhaps you can appease him with some “pirate treasure?” I would suggest a cutlass from Grandfather’s armory, but Oriana would have both our hides. I’m sure you can come up with something suitable. 

—Fergus”

5. Letters between two of your OC’s companions about them

(Sometime during Inquisition’s timeline.)“A little bird told me you’re having some problems with cultists. Need assistance? —Z

Not if you’re making my birds sing. —L

Not yours. I know better than that, dear Nightingale. —Z

No snakes in need of tickling at the moment. But V. R. is hiding nests of vipers and I’ve no eyes to spare for our friends in Denerim. Can you keep watch? I worry that a disgruntled Bann or Arl will contact your former employer, with all these new enemies to use as cover. —L

Of course. What have they been doing to rile the country so? I’ve not been following Fereldan politics. —Z

You know A & K – they’re both idealists. Trying to right all the world’s wrongs. K has a good head for diplomacy, but there’s only so much even her silver tongue can do against ages’ worth of ingrained prejudice & corruption. —L

Is that not what your Inquisition faces as well? —Z

Among other things, yes. But the Inquisition was formed amidst the ashes of the Chantry. We can rebuild it from the ground up. Our friends do not have that luxury in Ferelden. —L”

14. Your OC talking about your favorite quest

(Yes, the Deep Roads was my favorite. Come at me, deep-roads-haters! She’s pretty clearly talking to Alistair here, who wasn’t in the party for the expedition. Also, once again – I’m not crying, you’re crying.)

“Awful. It wasawful. I don’t want to go back there. I never want to go down through that terrible Tainted darkness ever again! I d-don't— I don’t want to be the strong one anymore!” (The words devolve into muffled sobbing. After a while, the sound of distress eases.) 

“S-sorry. I’m very good at getting your shirt wet, it seems… Thank you. I needed that. Andraste’s blood, the things we saw down there…” (There’s another choked sob.) “No, I’m alright. I’m all cried out, now, anyway…” (A pause; a deep breath, slightly shaky.) “It w-wasn’t all bad. Well, I mean, it was; but the Dwarven-made parts were quite impressive under all the Tainted muck. You could see echoes of grandeur, sometimes. Soaring columns and wondrous bridges, covered in intricate carvings, where the ‘spawn hadn’t defaced them, anyway… 

“The song was everywhere, though. Just whispers, at first, but it just kept getting louder and louder the deeper we went. And then— and then we… We heard it from the source. We saw it. We saw the Archdemon with our waking eyes, and the whole horde spread out beneath him… We looked death in the face, that day. I thought for sure it would see us, or sense us up on that ridge – but I guess even Tainted Old Gods can’t pick out the sound of two Grey Wardens from such a cacophony.”

(A weary sigh.) “Nothing like an Archdemon to put this whole thing in perspective… Would you believe me if I said that wasn’t even the worst thing in the Deep Roads? It shows up in our nightmares, at least. There are other— other things, horrors like I’d never even imagined… If you’ve ever wondered how darkspawn reproduce, the answer is ‘horrifically.’ Don’t ask any more than that – if I think about it too hard it will just make me throw up. Again. And neither of us wants that.”

[networkingdefinition]

Kangaroos Quotes

Official Website: Kangaroos Quotes

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• Are there any mythical beasts which aren’t simple pastiches of nature? Centaurs, minotaurs, unicorns, griffons, chimeras, sphinxes, manticores, and the like don’t speak well for the human imagination. None is as novel as a kangaroo or starfish. – William Poundstone • Avoid restaurants with names that are improbable descriptions, such as the Purple Goose, the Blue Kangaroo or the Quilted Orangutan. – Calvin Trillin

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Kangaroo', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_kangaroo').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_kangaroo img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Besides my professional goals, I have a couple of private ones, my man. One of those is to pet a kangaroo before I leave Australia. I understand there’s lots of Eastern Grays around this area. What do you say? Are you in?’ Bergman looked at him like he’d just made the worst financial investment of his life. ‘Kangaroos are wild animals. I’ve heard they claw like girl fighters and kick like jackhammers. You’re going to get your skull crushed.’ Cole held up a finger. ‘Or I’m going to pet a kangaroo. How cool would that be? – Jennifer Rardin • Children’s books are looked on as a sideline of literature. A special smile. They are usually thought to be associated with women. I was determined not to have this label of sentimentality put on me so I signed by my intials, hoping people wouldn’t bother to wonder if the books were written by a man, woman or kangaroo. – P. L. Travers • Creative new health strategies like micro-insurance for poor people or Kangaroo care for pre-term babies are transforming health outcomes in even the most low-resource settings. Dedication and innovation are transforming health care worldwide. – Liya Kebede • Don’t know what 2 say about Dunk-a-roos. They’re just good! Sometimes you want a food that is comfortable and takes you back. For me, it’s those crazy little kangaroo crackers. – Prince • Envy the kangaroo. That pouch setup is extraordinary; the baby crawls out of the womb when it is about two inches long, gets into the pouch, and proceeds to mature. I’d have a baby if it would develop in my handbag. – Rita Rudner • Even to this day, no native Australian animal species and only one plant species-the macadamia nut-have proved suitable for domestication. There still are no domestic kangaroos. – Jared Diamond • Evolution is a snail, but Revolution is a kangaroo; one crawls, other jumps! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • Go to the Black Sea, meet new people, see beautiful places, get killed by a mutant carnivorous kangaroo goat. One item off my bucket list. – Ilona Andrews • He (Ozzie Smith) plays like he’s on a mini-trampoline or wearing helium kangaroo shorts. – Andy Van Slyke • Hopefully New Zealand let me stay, and they don’t kick me out and ban me. And I hope I don’t get killed by a kangaroo, ‘cuz I heard that happens out there. – Vince Staples • Horton, the kangaroo has sent Vlad!’ Vlad? I know two Vlads. One is a cute little bunny that brings me cookies. The other is bad Vlad. Which Vlad?’ Which one do you think?’ Bad Vlad?’ Good call. – Dr. Seuss • How small the cosmos (a kangaroo’s pouch would hold it), how paltry and puny in comparison to human consciousness, to a single individual recollection, and its expression in words! – Vladimir Nabokov • How true, how true” said the Sour Kangaroo, “And from now on, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m going to protect them with you!” And the Young Kangaroo in her pouch said “Me too! – Dr. Seuss • I actually had a small kangaroo – and I’m not kidding this time. I was holding a small kangaroo, baby kangaroo … it was very nice to me this time. Do you know what it did afterward? I gave it some milk, and it just spit it all over me. I was like, Is this a thank-you for just being nice and petting the kangaroo? I got milk all over myself. I guess I deserved that from the story last year. – Caroline Wozniacki • I had longed to be a butterfly, and I was one at last. I attended private parties in sumptuous evening dress, simpered and aired my graces like a born beau, and polkaed and schoisched with a step peculiar to myself – and the kangaroo. – Mark Twain • I have no fear of losing my life – if I have to save a koala or a crocodile or a kangaroo or a snake, mate, I will save it. – Steve Irwin • I liked the koala, wallaby, and I chilled with a kangaroo a bit. There was a wombat that I quite enjoyed also – Todd Barry • I wanted to be Stan Laurel, then I wanted to be Fred Astaire and then Captain Kangaroo. I actually started out as a radio announcer when I was 17 and never left the business so that’s literally 70 years. – Dick Van Dyke • I was taught to read by my grandmother. Central to her method was a tale of unnatural love called ‘The Duck and the Kangaroo’. Then, because my grandfather, Senator Gore, was blind, I was required early on to read grown-up books to him, mostly constitutional law and, of course, the Congressional Record. The later continence of my style is a miracle, considering those years of piping the additional remarks of Mr. Borah of Idaho. – Gore Vidal • If there’s any guy crazy enough to attack me, I’m going to show him the end of the world — close up. I’m going to let him see the kingdom come with his own eyes. I’m going to send him straight to the southern hemisphere and let the ashes of death rain all over him and the kangaroos and the wallabies. – Haruki Murakami • If you hit a kangaroo in the street and you have to pull out on the side of the road, it can get back up and murder you. – Vince Staples • If you were a kangaroo you’d forget you’ve got a joey in your pouch. – Steve Fowler • I’m so glad you’re back. We need you here. I mean…Burnett’s okay, but…he’s not you.” Holiday arched a brow. “I hear he wasn’t even himself for a while there.” Miranda frowned. “He told you about the whole kangaroo thing, didn’t he.” “Yeah,” Holiday said, and her brows tightened. “And I must say, I’m very disappointed with you, Miranda” she reached out and gripped Miranda’s hand. “The next time you turn him into anything, do it when I’m here to enjoy it.” -Taken at Dusk – C.C. Hunter • It is hard eating a little kangaroo knob. – Karl Pilkington • It is in the national interest to have the Flying Kangaroo. It’s in the interests of our tourism industry. It’s in the interests of jobs here in Australia. – Anthony Albanese • It’s like trying to pin down a kangaroo on a trampoline. – Sid Waddell • Kofi Annan’s kangaroo court [is] a clear and present danger to the war on terror and to Americans fighting it all over the world. – Tom DeLay • Let me introduce myself. My name is, uh, Kangaroo… Kangaroo – Captain Kangaroo … I’m the keeper here of the Treasure House. – Bob Keeshan • Listen, Frank Zhang has moves. He’s probably gonna turn into a kangaroo and do some marsupial jujitsu on their ugly faces. – Rick Riordan • Look, in particular, at the people who, like you, are making average incomes for doing average jobs- bank vice presidents, insurance salesmen, auditors, secretaries of defense- and you’ll realie they all dress the same way, essentially the way the mannequins in the Sears menswear department dress. Now look at the real successes, the people who make a lot more money than you- Elton John, Captain Kangaroo, anybody from Saudi Arabia, Big Bird, and so on. They all dress funny- and they all succeed. – Dave Barry • My mother on her death bed told me, ‘Where the hell did that kangaroo come from!?’ – it just popped out of nowhere and punched her in the head and caused a cerebral hemorrhage, so I thought I’d move to a country where there were no kangaroos! – Colin Mochrie • Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas! / You really are beautiful! Pearls, / harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins! – Frank O’Hara • The chimpanzees in the zoos do it, Some courageous kangaroos do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love. I’m sure giraffes on the sly do it, Even eagles as they fly do it, Let’s do it, let’s fall in love. – Cole Porter • There is nothing more delightful than to scoop up a wild joey in your arms and smell the wind and eucalyptus in the coats of the gentle kangaroo or the deep-earth smell of tiny wallabies. It is wonderful to see the trust in their eyes and the gradual realization that you mean them no harm. – Stella Reid • This is your court and you possess the force to celebrate the trial and convict me on the basis of your lists of accusations, the public one and the secret one, and you can dictate a sentence prepared by the political and security apparatuses that are behind this trial. But I too possess a will obtained from the justice of our cause and the determination of our people to reject any decision from this ‘kangaroo court’. – Ahmad Sa’adat • Two kangaroos were talking to each other, and one said, ‘I hope it doesn’t rain today. I hate it when the children play inside. – Henny Youngman • Until we do something about wild dogs, kangaroos competing for pasture, your fortunes in life aren’t gonna turn around. – Barry O’Sullivan • What will happen to the spirit of this ancient dreaming land without the great mobs of kangaroos bounding across the song lines, energizing the land? Will the sunset and dawn mourn the passing of the creatures who danced in their light? – Sue Arnold • When I went to Australia, I went shark diving. It was crazy. It was called ‘extreme’ shark diving because even though we were in cages, we literally could touch the sharks swimming by. They were huge and I’m terrified of sharks. Then I went to a wildlife park and held kangaroos. That was nice. – Taylor Lautner • When you come across with a problem in your life, do not always try to solve it; make a long jump like a kangaroo and continue your way! Sometimes problems must be leaped over without touching them! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • Who will mourn the passing of our magnificent kangaroos? Who will remember how the bush once danced in rhythm with the thumping, jumping kangaroos who flew over fences their great tails drumming on the earth? Who will remember the big red male kangaroo lying in the desert sun, his coat almost indistinguishable from the red earth from which he came? – Sue Arnold • With kangaroos, you say ‘Sit!’ and they start boxing with you. They’re nuts! – Jerry O’Connell • Yeah, I think it’s an absolute disaster that Australia, the government, allowed kangaroo culling. – Steve Irwin • Your heart keeps jumping like a kangaroo, floating like an onion in a bowl of stew. – Fabian [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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[equitiesstocks]

Kangaroos Quotes

Official Website: Kangaroos Quotes

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• Are there any mythical beasts which aren’t simple pastiches of nature? Centaurs, minotaurs, unicorns, griffons, chimeras, sphinxes, manticores, and the like don’t speak well for the human imagination. None is as novel as a kangaroo or starfish. – William Poundstone • Avoid restaurants with names that are improbable descriptions, such as the Purple Goose, the Blue Kangaroo or the Quilted Orangutan. – Calvin Trillin

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Kangaroo', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_kangaroo').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_kangaroo img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Besides my professional goals, I have a couple of private ones, my man. One of those is to pet a kangaroo before I leave Australia. I understand there’s lots of Eastern Grays around this area. What do you say? Are you in?’ Bergman looked at him like he’d just made the worst financial investment of his life. ‘Kangaroos are wild animals. I’ve heard they claw like girl fighters and kick like jackhammers. You’re going to get your skull crushed.’ Cole held up a finger. ‘Or I’m going to pet a kangaroo. How cool would that be? – Jennifer Rardin • Children’s books are looked on as a sideline of literature. A special smile. They are usually thought to be associated with women. I was determined not to have this label of sentimentality put on me so I signed by my intials, hoping people wouldn’t bother to wonder if the books were written by a man, woman or kangaroo. – P. L. Travers • Creative new health strategies like micro-insurance for poor people or Kangaroo care for pre-term babies are transforming health outcomes in even the most low-resource settings. Dedication and innovation are transforming health care worldwide. – Liya Kebede • Don’t know what 2 say about Dunk-a-roos. They’re just good! Sometimes you want a food that is comfortable and takes you back. For me, it’s those crazy little kangaroo crackers. – Prince • Envy the kangaroo. That pouch setup is extraordinary; the baby crawls out of the womb when it is about two inches long, gets into the pouch, and proceeds to mature. I’d have a baby if it would develop in my handbag. – Rita Rudner • Even to this day, no native Australian animal species and only one plant species-the macadamia nut-have proved suitable for domestication. There still are no domestic kangaroos. – Jared Diamond • Evolution is a snail, but Revolution is a kangaroo; one crawls, other jumps! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • Go to the Black Sea, meet new people, see beautiful places, get killed by a mutant carnivorous kangaroo goat. One item off my bucket list. – Ilona Andrews • He (Ozzie Smith) plays like he’s on a mini-trampoline or wearing helium kangaroo shorts. – Andy Van Slyke • Hopefully New Zealand let me stay, and they don’t kick me out and ban me. And I hope I don’t get killed by a kangaroo, ‘cuz I heard that happens out there. – Vince Staples • Horton, the kangaroo has sent Vlad!’ Vlad? I know two Vlads. One is a cute little bunny that brings me cookies. The other is bad Vlad. Which Vlad?’ Which one do you think?’ Bad Vlad?’ Good call. – Dr. Seuss • How small the cosmos (a kangaroo’s pouch would hold it), how paltry and puny in comparison to human consciousness, to a single individual recollection, and its expression in words! – Vladimir Nabokov • How true, how true” said the Sour Kangaroo, “And from now on, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m going to protect them with you!” And the Young Kangaroo in her pouch said “Me too! – Dr. Seuss • I actually had a small kangaroo – and I’m not kidding this time. I was holding a small kangaroo, baby kangaroo … it was very nice to me this time. Do you know what it did afterward? I gave it some milk, and it just spit it all over me. I was like, Is this a thank-you for just being nice and petting the kangaroo? I got milk all over myself. I guess I deserved that from the story last year. – Caroline Wozniacki • I had longed to be a butterfly, and I was one at last. I attended private parties in sumptuous evening dress, simpered and aired my graces like a born beau, and polkaed and schoisched with a step peculiar to myself – and the kangaroo. – Mark Twain • I have no fear of losing my life – if I have to save a koala or a crocodile or a kangaroo or a snake, mate, I will save it. – Steve Irwin • I liked the koala, wallaby, and I chilled with a kangaroo a bit. There was a wombat that I quite enjoyed also – Todd Barry • I wanted to be Stan Laurel, then I wanted to be Fred Astaire and then Captain Kangaroo. I actually started out as a radio announcer when I was 17 and never left the business so that’s literally 70 years. – Dick Van Dyke • I was taught to read by my grandmother. Central to her method was a tale of unnatural love called ‘The Duck and the Kangaroo’. Then, because my grandfather, Senator Gore, was blind, I was required early on to read grown-up books to him, mostly constitutional law and, of course, the Congressional Record. The later continence of my style is a miracle, considering those years of piping the additional remarks of Mr. Borah of Idaho. – Gore Vidal • If there’s any guy crazy enough to attack me, I’m going to show him the end of the world — close up. I’m going to let him see the kingdom come with his own eyes. I’m going to send him straight to the southern hemisphere and let the ashes of death rain all over him and the kangaroos and the wallabies. – Haruki Murakami • If you hit a kangaroo in the street and you have to pull out on the side of the road, it can get back up and murder you. – Vince Staples • If you were a kangaroo you’d forget you’ve got a joey in your pouch. – Steve Fowler • I’m so glad you’re back. We need you here. I mean…Burnett’s okay, but…he’s not you.” Holiday arched a brow. “I hear he wasn’t even himself for a while there.” Miranda frowned. “He told you about the whole kangaroo thing, didn’t he.” “Yeah,” Holiday said, and her brows tightened. “And I must say, I’m very disappointed with you, Miranda” she reached out and gripped Miranda’s hand. “The next time you turn him into anything, do it when I’m here to enjoy it.” -Taken at Dusk – C.C. Hunter • It is hard eating a little kangaroo knob. – Karl Pilkington • It is in the national interest to have the Flying Kangaroo. It’s in the interests of our tourism industry. It’s in the interests of jobs here in Australia. – Anthony Albanese • It’s like trying to pin down a kangaroo on a trampoline. – Sid Waddell • Kofi Annan’s kangaroo court [is] a clear and present danger to the war on terror and to Americans fighting it all over the world. – Tom DeLay • Let me introduce myself. My name is, uh, Kangaroo… Kangaroo – Captain Kangaroo … I’m the keeper here of the Treasure House. – Bob Keeshan • Listen, Frank Zhang has moves. He’s probably gonna turn into a kangaroo and do some marsupial jujitsu on their ugly faces. – Rick Riordan • Look, in particular, at the people who, like you, are making average incomes for doing average jobs- bank vice presidents, insurance salesmen, auditors, secretaries of defense- and you’ll realie they all dress the same way, essentially the way the mannequins in the Sears menswear department dress. Now look at the real successes, the people who make a lot more money than you- Elton John, Captain Kangaroo, anybody from Saudi Arabia, Big Bird, and so on. They all dress funny- and they all succeed. – Dave Barry • My mother on her death bed told me, ‘Where the hell did that kangaroo come from!?’ – it just popped out of nowhere and punched her in the head and caused a cerebral hemorrhage, so I thought I’d move to a country where there were no kangaroos! – Colin Mochrie • Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas! / You really are beautiful! Pearls, / harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins! – Frank O’Hara • The chimpanzees in the zoos do it, Some courageous kangaroos do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love. I’m sure giraffes on the sly do it, Even eagles as they fly do it, Let’s do it, let’s fall in love. – Cole Porter • There is nothing more delightful than to scoop up a wild joey in your arms and smell the wind and eucalyptus in the coats of the gentle kangaroo or the deep-earth smell of tiny wallabies. It is wonderful to see the trust in their eyes and the gradual realization that you mean them no harm. – Stella Reid • This is your court and you possess the force to celebrate the trial and convict me on the basis of your lists of accusations, the public one and the secret one, and you can dictate a sentence prepared by the political and security apparatuses that are behind this trial. But I too possess a will obtained from the justice of our cause and the determination of our people to reject any decision from this ‘kangaroo court’. – Ahmad Sa’adat • Two kangaroos were talking to each other, and one said, ‘I hope it doesn’t rain today. I hate it when the children play inside. – Henny Youngman • Until we do something about wild dogs, kangaroos competing for pasture, your fortunes in life aren’t gonna turn around. – Barry O’Sullivan • What will happen to the spirit of this ancient dreaming land without the great mobs of kangaroos bounding across the song lines, energizing the land? Will the sunset and dawn mourn the passing of the creatures who danced in their light? – Sue Arnold • When I went to Australia, I went shark diving. It was crazy. It was called ‘extreme’ shark diving because even though we were in cages, we literally could touch the sharks swimming by. They were huge and I’m terrified of sharks. Then I went to a wildlife park and held kangaroos. That was nice. – Taylor Lautner • When you come across with a problem in your life, do not always try to solve it; make a long jump like a kangaroo and continue your way! Sometimes problems must be leaped over without touching them! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • Who will mourn the passing of our magnificent kangaroos? Who will remember how the bush once danced in rhythm with the thumping, jumping kangaroos who flew over fences their great tails drumming on the earth? Who will remember the big red male kangaroo lying in the desert sun, his coat almost indistinguishable from the red earth from which he came? – Sue Arnold • With kangaroos, you say ‘Sit!’ and they start boxing with you. They’re nuts! – Jerry O’Connell • Yeah, I think it’s an absolute disaster that Australia, the government, allowed kangaroo culling. – Steve Irwin • Your heart keeps jumping like a kangaroo, floating like an onion in a bowl of stew. – Fabian [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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[priyastandon]

A legend called Balramji Dass Tandon

The untold side of a stalwart called Tandonji/ The human behind the politician 

When a nonagenarian passes on peacefully, after a life well lived, there is a sense of peace, fulfillment and thanksgiving. 

But with the passing on of this great soul known to the world as ‘Tandonji’, I found that there were so many people who wept uncontrollably and whose hearts pounded in grief. I am amazed, touched and humbled to meet the hundreds of people who have poured into our home; called up, sent messages, e-mails and the like because he had  touched their lives in such positive ways. 

The personal connect that he had with people is beyond comprehension. It seems that the entire Punjab was his family. So what was it that made him different from the rest? Was it his political position or stature or work ethic or was it something else? 

I think most of all it was his humility and his persona of ever-exuding love that made him stand out. He helped people; just anyone and everyone who came his way. He even went across party-lines and walked the extra mile to help. ‘Seva Parmo Dharma’, was what he truly embodied. He was always concerned about the last person in the line. 

There have been countless people who I have met in the last few days who have narrated numerous stories of Tandonji helping them at various junctures, which none of his family members were aware of. There were 18 organizations/ individuals, to which he had been sending monthly cheques for the last twenty years. Last year he sent them a lump sum each, saying that God’s call may come anytime … so he advised them to put the amount into fixed deposit and keep using the interest. He even refused to take the hike in salary given to the Governor’s, saying that in the twilight years of his life, his needs were limited and he was satisfied with what he was getting. In the last few years, he said to me many a time, “I have lived my life. Whatever time God is giving me now, is a bonus!” Such was his sense of surrender and detachment from all things worldly. 

As his daughter-in-law, I got the chance to watch his persona from a non-political vantage point. With his children and grandchildren he has always been strict, yet full of love. When I got married, Dad was in a little passive period of politics. My first-born was the delight of his grandfather and all evenings were spent playing with him. When I had my second child, Dad would often say, ‘Ram-Lakshmana ki Jodi’. Every evening was spent watching video recordings of the ‘Ramayana’ made by Ramanand Sagar. I wonder who enjoyed them more, the kids or their Grandpa! Another thing he enjoyed watching on TV was wrestling. He was passionate about it, for he had indulged in the sport in his youth. 

When he was made Minister of Local Bodies in 1997 and was allotted an official residence in Sector-2, my youngest was just a year old. Dad told me that he would shift into the official house, if only we shifted along with them. Such was his attachment and fondness for his grandchildren. And so it was! 

Having an amazing memory, he could recite verses from the Ramayana and the Gita as simply as nursery rhymes. He enjoyed a game of Cards and Chess now and then. My youngest would often play with him, but would always lose. One day he won a game of chess with his grandfather. So, elated was he that he got it documented by telling Dadaji to write and sign a paper that ‘Satyam won a game of chess while playing with me!’ 

As one gets on in years and the children and grandchildren get married, the family gets connected to more and more people. He always referred to all the extended families as ‘Mere Parivaar ke log’. Besides this, the entire Punjab was definitely his family and so were many others who came into touch with him. I feel that he was a father to them all, like Bheeshma Pitamaha, and he loved them all as his children. 

It is said that the best way to teach is by example. He has been a living example of how to live a life full of values. While editing his biography, ‘Balramji Dass Tandon - Ek Prerak Charitra’, written by my husband Sanjay, I too got an opportunity to hear from Dad and understand better, how much he had worked in the freedom struggle in 1947; his earlier years as a ‘Pracharak’ in the RSS; his travails as one of the founder members of the Jan Sangh along with Vajpayee Ji and Advani Ji. 

On one hand my father late Justice MM Punchhi, often told us of the hardships faced by the Hindu refugees that came from Pakistan during the partition, because he was one of them. On the other hand, I got to know from my father-in-law, the other side of the story. He told us that trains would come from Lahore to Amritsar station loaded with dead bodies, with blood dripping out from them. He along with his companions would offload them with their bare hands, to look for any possible survivors. The very thought of this, makes my hair stand on end. He told us that the young RSS volunteers would goad people from middle class homes to prepare dal and chapattis, which these youngsters would go and distribute amongst the army and the refugees. They would carry tea for people to far out areas and generally give support of any kind they would ask for. 

I came to know of how he was lodged in jail for nineteen months during the emergency, and wasn’t sure if he would ever come back. The family too has stood by him in these hard times. It is one thing to read or write about them, but another to live through such trying times. 

Perhaps going through so many hardships made him strong. He had nerves of steel; he had the courage of conviction; but his heart was soft as butter. I remember him shedding tears profusely while watching the movie ‘Baghbaan’. Because strong family values are something he was very passionate about. He believed in, “Matru devo bhava, Pitru devo bhava …” He would always talk about the importance of the role of a woman in binding a home by her qualities of adjustment, intelligence and sacrifice. He emphasized strongly, the learning of the mother tongue and imbibing the values of the Hindu culture. He was most concerned that anyone who visited our home must get something to eat and drink; and this cordiality extended particularly to all the staff, security personnel, drivers etc that accompanied the various biggies that dropped in every now and then. This tested many a time, the might of our hospitality prowess. 

It was Dad’s father who started the tradition of the family sitting together in the Mandir at home, on every Sunday to read from any scriptural text and sing bhajans. So strict was dad about this being followed out, that it has become a habit; and we all look forward to it. Our children are the fourth generation into this. 

Even when his mortal remains lay in the freezer-casket at our home and an unending stream of visitors came to pay their last respects, I heard him say, “Priya beta, zara dekh lena, bahar bhi sab ko kuch khaane-peene ko mil jaaye. Koi bhi aise naa jaaye beta ...” With a lump in my throat I nodded, for the words refused to form … 

When I looked at him, as he lay motionless on a cross-section of wood and straw; his face shinning with the ghee and honey that had been poured in; wrapped in the Tri-colour, as the Army gave him a gun salute, and a farewell with full state honours, my heart was in my mouth. Looking at my husband Sanjay, lighting the pyre, my heart went out to him, who had lost not only a father, but a mentor, a friend, a guide … verily the man who was his hero. My tearful gaze shifted to my children as they stood beside their father and I thought, “My children have been blessed to have had two illustrious men as their grandfathers. One reached the pinnacle of his career as the Chief Justice of India. The other became Governor of Chattisgarh. Both expounded and lived by strong values and ethics. God doesn’t make the likes of them anymore. After He made them, He broke the mould. And we have been fortunate to address them both as ‘Dad’ …What a legacy!” 

As I looked around the sea of humanity that had come to pay homage, I realized that, everyone has to go one day; but what a glorious life and what a glorious end! And what a glorious send off!!! 

The humility, love and care that he has dispersed generously is apparent as more and more people are coming in from far and near; narrating how he helped them in difficult times of their lives. Not only have we lost a father, the entire Punjab has lost a father figure. The void can never be filled, but we can surely pay homage to him, by walking his path. 

To do something for the country and society, one has to give up the soft cushion he sits on and walk on the hot and cold sands. 

Thank you God! Thank you, for blessing us with a legacy that makes our hearts swell with pride, yet humbles us with its enormity. The responsibility to carry forward what he has left us with is huge … He has led by example. God give us the strength to emulate. 

In Dad’s words- He mere Ram! He mere malik! Kripa karo mere malik! Kripa karo! Kripa karo!

This article was published in DAILY WORLD. A concise version was published in Hindustan Times. A very small part was published i The Indian Express  on 25.8.18

[magicmenageriestuff]

I Can’t Win – Ry Cooder

9th June 2018

We went to see Ry Cooder last night in the Town Hall a wonderful old venue with a really intimate feel on 43rd St, built in 1921 by suffragette supporters.  Jenny knew the venue from an event a couple of years ago directed by her godfather Nicolas Kent – it was a staging of the transcripts of Trump’s picks for Attorney General I think.  The beer is served in plastic cups with logos which cost $5 thus the first round was $28.  She did warn me to be fair, and they only charge you for the cup once.  What a world.

Ry Cooder opened with an old song called Nobody’s Fault But Mine which was written by Blind Willie Johnson then covered by everyone including Led Zeppelin.  He sat centre stage with a battered old acoustic guitar, his white hair covered with a blue wool bobble hat (without the bobble) and there was a young man playing a treated saxophone at the side.  Treated electronically, acoustically, sonically who knows it was haunting all night.  Cooder delivered the song with the authority of a delta bluesman, picking notes, sliding his bottleneck up and down the strings which twanged and shuddered and whispered under his touch.  He was so connected to this song, with the changes and the lyrics, it was evident in every note.

I was introduced to Ry Cooder by Sir Nick Partridge.  He wasn’t Sir Nick in those days, he was Nick P., a fresh-faced and pleasant young man who lived in the flat on West End Lane that Pete and Sali owned and that I lived in too.  He was my flatmate. Known Pete since schooldays.  I’d just finished my degree in Law at the LSE and Nick had graduated from Keele University doing International Relations.  We were all post-graduates suddenly.  I was saving money for a further “year off” as we called them back then.  This was 1979 and the future lay ahead of us. Education and academia was, it seemed, finally behind us.  We used to go record shopping together because there was so much to discover !  There still is some 40 years later !!!

Nick Partridge and Ralph Brown in a North London record shop, 1989.  Picture taken by Pete Thomas.

I was painting and decorating that summer in Pinner, and later moved onto a house in St John’s Wood, definitely worthy of its own post.  My previous mentions of this vivid era of my young adult life were in posts about Talking Heads (My Pop Life #92 ) John Martyn (My Pop Life #153) and The Specials (My Pop Life #178) and Nick features in all of them.  We were a little musical commune up there between the railways of the Jubilee Line to the south and the Thameslink line to Hertfordshire to the north PLUS the North London Line which carried nuclear waste past our building overnight while we listened to Ry Cooder and The Gladiators.  My girlfriend Mumtaz was in Mecklenburgh Square and would come and squat cross-legged on the floor with us as we passed the bliss.

In the evenings and at weekends we were all obsessed with listening to music and going to gigs.  Pete was very much a reggae aficionado but also fond of the quirky post-punk world emerging from the rubble of 1977, a plethora of independent labels issuing interesting stuff of all kinds like Wah! Heat, SpizzEnergi, Flying Lizards, or The Auteurs all with picture sleeves and original music.   In my capricious memory Sal was more into rock and I was a student new wave ex-punk who listened to soul, but Nick was always different.  Later he would live on a houseboat in Amsterdam doing a blues radio show but that’s another story, if you’re lucky.

It was Nick who had Boomer’s Story and Paradise & Lunch and in the stoned democratic disc jockey world of West End Lane between the rails, when he got his turn for an LP side, it would often be one of these Ry Cooder records which were kind of country kind of bluesy kind of funky, but often with an added flavour from somewhere else.  Americana it would be called now.

Then in 1979 he brought home an LP that looked like a new wave record, bright pink with a guitar player who looked a bit Nick Lowe but no.  It was the new Ry Cooder album called, unfeasibly, “Bop Til You Drop” and now we would all choose this record when our DJ turn came around.  Opening with a cover of Elvis Presley’s Little Sister but thereafter delving into obscure 60s R’n’B – Go Home Girl, Don’t You Mess Up A Good Thing, Trouble You Can’t Fool Me, Look At Granny Run Run – and a brilliant original song called Down In Hollywood (‘better hope that you don’t run out of gas…’), the album had a fantastic production quality on the guitar and backing vocals particularly.  In fact Bop Til You Drop was the first album ever recorded digitally.  Cooder is a magnificently rootsy guitarist, not a show-off in any way, but just tries to get the soul out of the instrument, and the backing vocals on the album were by Terry Evans & Bobby King who would later record their own record with Ry Cooder producing and playing on every track.  What I didn’t know until last night (too stoned to read the liner notes or maybe just not that nerdy after all) was that Chaka Khan sings on Down In Hollywood and Good Thing.   He had roughly the same line up last night – although not the same players.  Jenny turned to me at one point – probably during The Very Thing That Makes You Rich (Will Make Me Poor) and said “What would you call this music?”  I said “country soul?”.  She could hear mariachi.  It’s funky.  It’s hawaian.  It’s blues.   It’s music.

Cooder plays without any ego at all, and often uses the concert (and indeed many of his record releases) to showcase other people and give them a turn in the spotlight.  Last night it was his wonderfully relaxed backing singers The Hamiltones who played a couple of numbers while he left the stage, then joined them on guitar for another.  Earlier it had been his son Joachim who opened proceedings with his own music.  Ry Cooder it was who travelled to Havana in the 1990s breaking the boycott and encouraging the old stars of the 1950s to team up and record again, the resulting film and album opening up Cuba to the world once again and introducing me to Ruben Gonzales, Ibrahim Ferrer and Compay Segundo playing together as the incomparable Buena Vista Social Club.

He has recorded with the great Malian blues guitarist Ali Farke Toure on Talking Timbuktu, with Captain Beefheart on Safe As Milk (see My Pop Life #205) with Taj Mahal in the band Rising Sons, with Randy Newman on 12 Songs, the Rolling Stones on Let It Bleed & Sticky Fingers, on Lowell George‘s original version of Willin’.  All playing slide guitar or bottleneck.  In 1984 he composed the soundtrack to Wim Wenders’ film Paris, Texas which starred Natassia Kinski and Harry Dean Stanton and following that became a sought-after soundtrack composer using his signature slide guitar.  He’s made albums with the latino community of Los Angeles such as Lalo Guerrero and Don Tosti (Chavez Ravine) and if left to his own devices appears to be following in the footsteps of his hero 1940s political folkie Woody Guthrie.  Or one of his heroes.

Woody Guthrie 1943

*

In a new song last night he sang of a meeting between Jesus & Woody in heaven, looking down on what is happening now, from the vantage point of the 1950s when we had beaten the fascists and the world stretched out before us.

Jesus & Woody

Well bring your old guitar and sit here by me Round the heavenly throne Drag out your Oklahoma poetry, ’cause it looks like the war is on

And I don’t mean a war for oil, or gold, or trivial things of that kind But I heard the news, the vigilante man is on the move this time

So sing me a song ’bout this land is your land And fascists bound to lose You were a dreamer, Mr. Guthrie, and I was a dreamer too

Once I spoke of a love for those who hate It requires effort and strain Vengeance casts a false shadow of justice which leads to destruction and pain Some say I was a friend to sinners But by now you know it’s true Guess I like sinners better than fascists And I guess that makes me a dreamer too

It was a chilling song but it wasn’t the only time that the name of Jesus was called.  One of his biggest hits was gospel standard Jesus On The Mainline,  and with The Hamiltones‘ soulful harmonies it was a standout moment at the gig.  And it became clear to Jenny and I that we were really at a gospel show.  In the sense that the black church in America has long been a vehicle for resistance to oppression, using the biblical metaphors and stories to illustrate the struggle and gospel music to inspire and strengthen courage.  Cooder never went preachy, but he was very clear where he stood.  He mentioned Trayvon Martin before playing a song called The Vigilante.  It was the lack of ego that was most striking in the end.  Playing the guitar to try and find the most expressive notes, not to show-off or strike poses.

Ry Cooder With Taj Mahal, 1968

And indeed, it seems to me this morning thinking back on Sir Nick as a young man in West Hampstead, smoking dope with a generous smile and a ready laugh that he had no ego then or indeed now.  He always had an easy manner where embarrassment was never far from the surface, mixed with laughter and great empathy.  I went to Hampstead Magistrates with him one day and watched him with his gentle phrasing and easy manner talk his middle-class way out of a conviction and get a finger-wagging in its place.

Sir Nick with Kirsten O’Brien

Shortly after the Amsterdam year he joined The AIDS charity The Terrence Higgins Trust in 1985 becoming Chief Executive in 1991 and finally moving on in 2013 after 28 years of service and a knighthood which followed his OBE.   We formed a close bond in those 1989-1990 days and nights and stayed in touch right up until today.  I had no idea that he was gay back then but he’s never made a big deal out of it or changed his basic persona of decency, sincerity and jokes.

Sir Nick talks with brother Andrew, Whitstable Bay.  My dad can be seen with check shirt on the pebbles between them

Paul Brown is 50 in his beach hut and quite a tremendous shirt

The first time any of us saw Nick after he was knighted in the 2009 New Year Honours was at my brother Paul’s 50th birthday celebration which he held in Whitstable, Kent.  It was a wonderful weekend of family – Dad & Beryl came down from Yorkshire, Becky was back in Sussex by then and Jenny and I had summer son Jordan in tow – Dee’s youngest who had a key period of spending the summer with us in Brighton.  Sir Nick was there in the beach-hut, Paul was back from Shanghai mixing cocktails in a straw hat, Richard Davies (Lady G) was probably DJing and drinking at the same time and a splendid time was guaranteed and enjoyed by all.

Nick and his husband Simon have been to New York since we moved here – I remember him asking me what he should see on Broadway – it was 2016.  I had a one-word answer : Hamilton.  He bought tickets online, then I had to go to work when he was here so I missed him, but he saw the show and, of course, loved it.

Paulette & Beverley Randall, Paul Brown & Sir Nick Partridge, London 2015

I did see him the year before when Paul was in London for his birthday a couple of years ago – 2015 I guess.  And then he came to send me off on my 60th birthday last summer when I hardly spoke to anyone, but hugged everyone.   I am extremely fond of him and will always be grateful for his friendship and for bringing Bop Til You Drop (and Memphis Slim…) into my life.

The last song on the album is called I Can’t Win and it is a haunting and soulful three-part harmony, simply a beautiful song about being in love with someone who isn’t responding.  We’ve all been there, but I haven’t made a habit of it thank god.  When the gig finished last night the entire band went off for about 90 cursory seconds then returned immediately as we all stood and clapped for the encore.  And they sang I Can’t Win with piercing harmonies that made the hairs on the back of our necks stand on end.  It was the pinnacle on a great night.  And it’s already up on Youtube.

Live at Town Hall June 8th 2018:

Album Version :

  My Pop Life #208 : I Can’t Win – Ry Cooder I Can't Win - Ry Cooder 9th June 2018 We went to see Ry Cooder last night in the Town Hall a wonderful old venue with a really intimate feel on 43rd St, built in 1921 by suffragette supporters. 

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New Post has been published on http://drubbler.com/2017/02/24/parade-of-vanity-and-death-icon-of-american-politics/

Parade of vanity and death: icon of American politics

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Dmitry Tretyakov, February 24, 2017, 21:18- REGNUM

Conceited people cause contempt the wise, delight for fools are idols for parasites and slaves of their own passions.

Francis Bacon

February 23, on Russian screens released biographical drama “Jackie”, dedicated to challenging Dole 34-year-old Jacqueline Kennedy, at one point losing her husband’s position in society and the House, which did not become “their” for her. For the role of the first lady Natalie Portman has been nominated for an Academy Award and nominated for many other awards, but only the Venetian Festival drew attention to the wonderful scenario of the film. Screenwriter Noah Oppenhajm, apparently, in close collaboration with filmmaker Pablo Larraín’s paintings could nudge mountain “cult character” and discover after her mouse of a living person.

what could be a film about Kennedy, and even more so about the Kennedy-woman in the run-up to the presidential elections in the United States? (The film was released in the world rolled back in September.) One would expect to see on the screen agitku the Democratic Party — a woman terpjashhuju her husband’s infidelity for the sake of the country, transforming the classic political Beau Monde in modern fashionable reception, a female diplomat, companion of the great father of the nation, only due to the limited era do not raskryvshuju in itself leadership qualities. Perhaps this “order” and would have to develop the film. But it is precisely this attempt fails. More precisely, for all the glitter and grandiosity here and there are moments that make wary: “something is wrong here.

the structure of the movie quite typical of biographies is a film adaptation of the famous interview given to a widow just a week after the death of her husband. This technique provides the ability to mount a story from different time layers, simulate memory in which the time and logical link of events gives way to associations and emotions. Of course, the Central plot turns out to be the President’s assassination and the subsequent funeral — unprecedented courage of Jacqueline (she went over her husband’s coffin through the streets of Washington, not fearing the likely sniping) made her the heroine of the world press. In this temporary layer of woven, but they all relate only to the period of life in the White House, though for the biographer is not so important who was the man, not yet faced hundreds of cameras.

we see very different Jackie: inexperienced and somewhat naive before the camera its tours of the residence of Presidents, shokirovannuju and lost myself in the day of fatal shots, dedicated during the funeral and cold and calculated and driven in front of the journalist. In this way in the “present tense” film layer picture widow is strikingly different from all others. And it is here that a viewer can observe the amazing process of “deikonizacii” or rather a deconstruction of icons. Almost all other events the film is only a story — presentation of themselves, and because they are so smooth and prilizanno parade. But in this story there are reservations — hints at something else, something the second alternative text.

it is “wrong”, this additional text is not opening film. No need to think long to suspect public person in vanity. Especially if the main achievements of this man are various interviews and organization of public processions of thousands crowd with an led. But that’s served this idea more than elegant. Penetrating game Portman-Jackie, selects, that it is more important: the safety of children or publicity of the funeral, and later justified the choice in sudden self-fulfillment: “we were before hundreds of cameras!” (and immediately: “I didn’t say”). Her desire to hold the ceremony, repeating in detail the funeral of Lincoln (until personal horses, going beyond the coffin President that is understandable in the 19th century, but raises questions in century XX). In dozens of other, “accidentally” obronennyh phrases: for example, during a rehearsal before telejekskursiej someone advises first lady to replace the words in the phrase “I am pleased to welcome you at the White House, our home” to “people’s House”. Not long thinking, future “mother of the nation” gets rid of the title at home, but not from his conditioning to her personally with the President.

vanity and naturally accompanying hypocrisy (including before itself) are represented in all its glory. But, I think, the main thing in this picture is not it. Not study nature desires imaginary sponsored women. It seems to me that the film soon on how policy is constructed in our time it is at the first place, and that all the remaining tenths. Deconstruction of one of the icons in the iconostasis of dekonstrukciju turns or even the whole Church.

No work of art does not exist in a vacuum, it’s hard to imagine that picture man watch comes Larrain had never heard of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, not knowing that he is perhaps debatable, but “great” President. You might not know that his wife is an example of a first lady at all times, even in that post prevzoshedshaja Castile Roosevelt, but some cultural context is captured even in Russia, far from the exaltation of the wives of foreign Presidents. In many ways, the film relies on the knowledge behind the Viewer, but still in a frame sound notes of reproach the President triumphantly razreshivshemu Caribbean crisis, “which he himself had previously and arranged, and vtjanuvshemu America in the shameful war in its modern cultural history. The brother of the President clearly indicates his widow on the inappropriate copying of funeral events: Lincoln “at least won the civil war. All these reproaches are swept aside a terrific desire to widows be minded. Desire, as we understand it, osushhestvivshemsja.

in the United States the greatness of Kennedy almost as surely as Nixon otvratitel’nost’ is its direct competitor, where the war had actually ended. Greatness, which rely on film at least partly secured by the vanity of his wife. So what is more important: the real achievements, actions and economic indicators or show-off and tinsel are called dinners, noisy procession and “candid” interview? I think that today this question more than rhetorical.

in the twenty-first century enough for race as absolve themselves of responsibility for the outbreak of war and the transformation of entire States in a zone of endless conflict, Secretary of the strongest country in the world is enough to lift a television series in which slightly more young and cute version of this Secretary becomes a victim of the vicious intrigues. In an age in which the Nobel Peace Prize is given out in advance and, indeed, for colour, it should be clear that PR won. Win infinite Jackie, which importantly — thousands of cameras on the axis. What is happening outside the lenses? It just doesn’t matter, this does not exist . Hundreds of people could die from rockets fired by bespilotnikom with incorrect coordinates or as “derivative losses” at the “elimination” of one conditional terrorists identified by indirect evidence via satellite, but the world will mourn about the girl from the fictional “Instagramma”.

the new President of the United States already had more than once have to pay not only for the lack of glamorous attitudes and actions, but for the inaccuracies of the journalist, before time including microphone. The Russian power, as the opposition increasingly chooses the way Jackie — external and internal policies and their criticism are transformed into permanent dokuchnyj PR farce. Among the cheerful economic reports progress and international cooperation among the sad sighs on convicted nudistah in an unknown direction lurks one ally after another flourish of war and the unrecognized republics, and fellow workers every day more reminiscent of slavery.

we have to Live in this twenty-first century, and we don’t have any choice?

Read earlier in this story: Spy, superhero, President and Iranian — anecdotal portrait of America

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[lclunastar]

#Exboyfriend❓💏💑💌💔✨

Oftentimes since human beings are little, they try to make others to perceive characters in their personality that don't exist, some appear to be what they're not for certain reasons: -To become very popular in front of their friends. -To promote fame into society. -Save themselves from an uncomfortable situation and/or determined encounter. ·Among these options there's *Me* exactly.. My little big white lie actually began as a tiny thing. When i was only 12 years old, between what would be the beginning of high school, my classmates began to have the typical hormonal change, where they sat like ladies, stopped running a lot, combed more, left their dolls aside, practically to not scream: "I already had my menarche!", they used black eyeshadow and very well pronounced eyeliner, darker lips, and like this to differentiate their "Maturity" in front of others, short skirts, etc. To me this "Maturity" didn't appeared till so much later, well, except for my tastes in Minions, Hello Kitty, and Lion slippers that i like so much, and still make me doubt that has arrived, but anyway.. Besides of noticing these changes, most of them already wanted something more of life than just looking serious for others, that was to have "Experiences", for them, it was already according to their age and "Maturity" to give themselves the luxury of living their lives as they pleased, some escaped from the balcony (because they seen it in movies) or lied to their parents saying, "I'm going to a sleepover" and actually they end up in parties, drank, met knew people, became friends with olders, and from there.. Well, you know "They experimented of everything." For my luck or my mother's, i always adored more the story books, didn't leave my dolls until i was 14, and when i turned on the TV, it was more to see stuffs like "Discovery Channel" I loved Steve Irwin, i feel a lot of passion for animals thanks to his documentaries, suffered and cried a lot when he left, was always calm, but the girls didn't wanted to "Experiment" alone, so they always tried to convince me to do things with them, went out just sometimes, but since i don't drink and smoke, for me it was all the same, i didn't see the sense of humor to their jokes, and my musical tastes didn't fit theirs, so when they asked me "How are you doing?" I wouldn't hide it and said: .. "I don't like anything", so obviously they called me "boring", but then that year something devastating happened for me, that was to lose my grandpa, just in a few days of having talked to him, and also a day before my birthday. My friend's decided to introduce me to a boy who was very popular to cheer me up, i liked him immediately, and he also was very glad to met.. "One of my girls!" So, later they introduced me to another boy, and he ended up being my first kiss, also first and last boyfriend 😊, but then something happened, that i don't know if it was an awakening, shocked me, or made me afraid of the future, a couple year's later one of my friends, she got pregnant at 15, and had a beautiful baby. There i was, kissing him on the forehead, he smiled, which made me very happy, my friend was sitting watching the scene from afar, and said: Can i tell you something? M: Yes. S: If i could go back in time, and there was a way to tell myself "You're going to get pregnant", i would do everything "Different", i wouldn't have made fun of your way of being, i wouldn't try to make you abandon your dreams and convictions just for being "Older", because.. this ruined my life, i didn't finished my studies, i have to kill myself working, and it's not even to buy a purse for myself, but to look at the bottle that is next to it and say: "Well, it's time to spend the little that i have so (this) can eat." With a tear she said: "I apologize." A little bit disappointed i replied: "It's okay." That same day i went home, and reevaluated my situation, thought a lot and finally the next day, i took the courage, went with my boyfriend, and broke up with him. I didn't know how to explain that he was wonderful, that i didn't feel it, that i was young to decide that after finishing high school would want to get married, that perhaps i wanted to travel, to know myself, that it was way too soon for me to think in having a family, was speechless, because i was afraid to say what i felt, and he tried to convince me that it was a mistake, i was afraid of the nice words he could say, that i ended with the typical cliché phrase: "It's not you, it's me." Can you imagine? With all the traumas i already had, my parent's divorce, bullying, my grandpa who wasn't there anymore, my friend's sad confession, and also having to brake up with someone whom i didn't loved, without hurting him! It all helped to my fear of commitment, as i grew up during high school every time i was asked, if i wanted to meet somebody, my automatic white lie would be: "No thanks, i have a boyfriend" like this till the end, and then enter to the world of the semi-adults. I started to do English, Portuguese, (because i wanted to improve it, in honor of my mom), professional makeup artist (that was more for hobby), to be a public translator, something related to food, because i love to eat, my drawings maybe!? And that's when i met new friends, but always with the same old proposals of: -"Let's go out" -"And if i introduced you to someone?" ·I thought, i could handle myself with the same excuse: -"I can't, i have a boyfriend" ·And expected the same result, for them to say: "Oh, okay." Then change the topic of conversation, i wasn't expecting questions like: -"And how is he?" -"What he likes to do?" -"To eat" -"To drink" -"To watch" -"His favorite color and whyyyy!?" ·I mean they almost asked.. -What type of toilet paper he prefers (normal or double?) WHAT'S WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU?! (Okay, not all but some.) Then they asked, when would i present him. M: What, what!? T: Yes, when we go out we always introduce you to the guys we like, and you? When are you going to do it? ·That obviously led me to say: He lives in other country, comes from time to time, we almost don't see each other. Then they screamed, when they did that i thought someone died, but not, it was of joy, for my love story, one far away, that struggled to stay together despite everything and everyoooone!😖 The nightmare didn't end there, the worst part was to invent, why they wouldn't meet him the next time. Or forget i had one! -In the class: Girl: How's the boyfriend going? M: Hmm? What boyfriend? S: Yoouur boyfriend. M: Ah! hahahaha, of course, i thought you were talking about yours. S: But i don't have one. M: Sorry, i mean, hers! *Points to other girl.* S: Why would i ask for her, if it's just you and me? M: Becaaaause.. S:👀 M:👀 S:👀 M:👀 M: With so many tests, i'm so distracted, yeah. S: Oh! Don't worry! Probably you miss him a lot, how far it is! and think of him while you try to study, it's not easy! *Keeps talking* blah, blah, blah, blah.. M: *She sinks into the chair, covers her face with the hood of the jacket, and feels like it floats in the dark soul of its abyss.* Of course, i paid my lie later, when i met a guy that i liked, when an afternoon invited me to spend time with him, and at the point of almost kissing, a friend sees me, runs, does everything to get to me, and defend my non-existent boyfriend! asking, "How was he!?" Obviously the boy thought the worst of me, between trying to explain to both, he walked away angry, and she grabbed my arm saying: See, you almost ruined your great story of love, for a thing of the moment! I just remember myself screaming: "GRRRR!" and going hysterical from the place. This is not to redeem what i did, it's just to say, that the best you guys can do is.. (be yourselves), because like the phrase says: "No matter what you do, they're going to judge you anyway." So do what your heart feels, don't worry about the crowd, wear clothes that you want to use, and make you feel comfortable, listen to the music you love, fall in love when your heart feels like it, not for feeling pressured, because those who really matter, despite the different tastes between you two, will always love you. If those people leave, it's because they will come better to know. And now i say bye! with one of my favorite phrases: "Some things seem to be the end of the world, and they are! So we can start, creating a new one."