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hangryandlazy · 3 years ago

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africa jul 19

wow lol it’s taken me 2 years to actually put this post together. a LOT has changed since then and it makes me immensely happy to recognize how lucky we were that we’d had 2 insane years of travelling right before the pandemic hit. but this post is not to dwell on that, so let’s get on with it!!

this was our amazing 2019 africa trip~

jun 30, 19 ••• we make our way from hong kong to the netherlands on klm airlines. i distinctly remember how impressed i was with the quality of service and the comfort of the 12ish hour flight. after around 16 hours of commute, we just want to stay in and chill, so we order room service and call it a night early. i recall wearing a fun t-shirt that read, “not to be rude, but shut the fuck up” which i personally find hilarious and endearing, but which made the guy at the front desk quite uncomfortable. lollll oops!

vimeo

jul 1, 19 ••• yay! we had a full day alone in amsterdam. we (i) decided to walk from the hotel to the town center, because it’s fun experience new cities by exploring them on foot!! why not? you come across many things that you just couldn’t have planned to find.

look how beautiful the canals in amsterdam are! anywhere you turn, it’s picturesque.

we had lunch at wagamama because i saw that the avant garde vegan, gaz oakley, had done a collaboration with them at some point, so there are some guaranteed vegan options. we then walk around the bloemenmarkt and find our way to the cannabis college, which had 2 verdampers for rent! yesssss! i was so happy.

we explored and walked around more, then stopped by a coffee shop to smoke a bit more. there was a lovely vegan cafe right next door, which i’d been eyeing when we went in to smoke, so we had a top up on coffee and matcha there. we saw a cute frenchie across the road and missed the dogs so...

vimeo

we had dinner at this place called cafe frijdag (which means Friday!) which was delicious! so happy that amsterdam had vegan options for me

jul 2, 19 ••• we got up bright and early to meet my parents for breakfast and we go to the airport to catch our flight to kigali. about 10 hours later, we were buying sim cards at the kigali airport. we then checked in to the radisson for the night, and it was feeling very surreal to be in africa. i remember feeling anxious.

jul 3, 19 ••• today started on a somber note. we went to the kigali genocide memorial. i cried a lot, especially at the exhibit with the photographs of only a fraction of the victims during that time.

then we drove at turtle speed to our next hotel, which was a loooong long way away. we arrived at the lake kivu serena hotel in time for a very late lunch. the cuisine here consists of rice, tortilla-like wraps and papadum-esque crispy rolls.

this fruit tastes disgusting... it looks like a tomato but isn’t sweet at all. i only remember spitting it out, trying another piece from another plate, and still hating it.

vimeo

thankfully everyone wanted to relax and take it easy, so we ordered in for dinner and spent the rest of the night chilling.

jul 4, 19 ••• we drove out to see the border between rwanda and the democratic republic of congo. we were told to be very careful about taking photos of the police officers there, so we were. it felt strange to take photos of the border, i’m clearly very ignorant of the relations and history. it was a very busy juncture, with a sea of people crossing this way and that, lots of cars bumbling about and a lot of fruit, as i recall. hahah.

we then drove out to see a makeshift hot spring. we were asked if we wanted to take a dip, but none of us wanted to..... felt bad saying no, but really not worth it, sorry.

vimeo

https://vimeo.com/568059672 (okay, i’m unable to embed more videos so links will have to do until i figure out something better...)

we took a boat ride along the lake, but there wasn’t that much to see around there, it was pretty dirty and murky... reminded me of the hong kong harbor, with trash floating around. it was also freezing, so i wasn’t having any fun at all.

we went to the gym and worked out a little bit because there was a lot of time to kill in between returning to hotel and our private pre-planned bbq dinner on the beach. we were lucky enough to enjoy traditional rwandan dancing which was absolutely gorgeous.

jul 5, 19 ••• we spent most of our morning in the car, having crossed the border to the republic of uganda. we stopped by a cute cafe along the way for lunch, but it was a grueling 4-5 hour car ride to mahogany springs, which was our hotel for the gorilla trekking. we managed to arrive around 715pm, by which time it was pretty dark and scary outside. the other car had broken down twice, once in the dark as well, so spirits were low and there was a lot of muttering and grumbling done under people’s breath. everyone was ravenous by the time dinner was served, but despite how late it was, it was absolutely delicious and i was happy! (also grateful for our car not having broken down)

jul 6, 19 ••• we woke up VERY early in anticipation of gorilla trekking. we waited around the hotel lobby after some coffee and biscuits for breakfast. it was an awful lot of waiting, but i didn’t sense anything wrong until i saw how pissed off our tour guide looked. it turns out our permits had gotten stolen! probably bribes.

here we were mucking around, still anticipating gorilla trekking.

we didn’t let it slow us down though. i actually am grateful for how things turned out because we wouldn’t have gotten to experience uganda like that without this turn of events. we joined a community tour that showed us how tea is harvested, how coffee is grown, harvested and round, as well as how bananas may be used to make juice, beer and gin! very cool

african tea leaves

jackfruit??

these are flowers from the coffee tree

the different stages of the coffee plant

this is henry, he owns this coffee plantation. here, henry shows us how to the use this contraption, the purpose of which is to grind coffee beans into powder

here henry is, sifting the coffee powder

here are my parents, having the time of their life (lol at my dad)

fresh bananas

these are the different stages of a banana’s life: from raw to ripe to fermenting. it can be made into juice and liquor.

we then visited a local school, where we were entertained by kids from kindergarten to 6th grade. we learned about their mission and goals to educate the younger generations by providing classrooms and a dining hall and even dorms for boarding. the singing and dancing was BRILLIANT. loved every single second of it. wish i’d joined in and not cared about what anyone thought.

we stopped by a women’s community center and saw a lot of cool crafts and art. that was on the way to the batwa pgymy tribe. we learned how they integrated with the batwa community. they showed us some dances they have dedicated to the gorillas, for which they are very grateful because it brings tourists in and therefore gives them an income. they showed us how to use a bow and arrow to hunt, and how they weave baskets and make handicrafts.

alan with the leader of the pgymy tribe

one of our guides spotted 2 chameleons, which was super impressive. he even brought the chameleon down close to us so that we could see it. i won’t ever understand how he was able to spot it in the wild, and from so far away as well.

we returned to the lodge and had lunch. the veggie stir fry was pretty dang good. it was served with posho, which is a maize bread, beans, and also matate (???) which reminded me a lot of plantain. back at the hotel, we chilled (without tv or wifi) until dinner. alan fell asleep, and i kept myself busy sorting out photos. dinner was early, and our night was early because we were promised gorilla trekking in the morning!

delicious!

jul 7, 19 ••• we were up and ready to leave by 7am. we were in the clear! we drove a little bit to the bwindi impenetrable national park for some entertainment (dancing and singing) from local students and a hilarious briefing on what to expect and do’s and don’ts of the trek.

we then had separate meetings within our trekking groups. ours was quite big, with 10 tourists, because michael and our guides had spent HOURS the day before handling our stolen permits. an exception was made to accommodate us all, so our group consisted of the starke’s, alan, kerstin, a couple from oregon, and an english family. we had to get in another car and drive a bit to the mountain, where we met our porters and then began our trek!

the hike up was difficult, and at times i legit feared for my life because the mud/rocks were loose and one wrong step would have had us tumbling down the edge of the mountain... and that was me at age 28!! cannot imagine how my parents were feeling...

alan with meddie

as we made our way to the gorilla family, we encountered a solo young male who was soooo friendly, he cut across our group, like right down the middle, and he even reached out and touched my mom on her jacket! it was wild that a gorilla was that close to us, and then he left as quickly as he had joined.

this is the photo my mom managed to take when the young gorilla male was right next to her

we kept on hiking and found a large. our guide, meddie, told us that we were lucky to have found such a large family doing a whole bunch of different activities: we saw mothers nursing their babies, babies swinging from the trees and playing with one another, sub adult males beating their chests and other members of the family eating and feeding. we even got to watch as a silverback gorilla pulled a very healthy poop out of its butt, and we ran into him snacking again later on.

on the way down, it started raining a little bit. we all slipped at one point or another, but it was especially dangerous for my dad so we all had to slow down our pace a little bit to match his speed. thank god he had a porter there to help him out and save him.

we returned to the same place as where we had started our morning for a debriefing, and we each received a certificate to show that we had been on this trek. we waited around a little bit for the other group to arrive, and were once again very grateful that our experience was much more pleasant. one lady in the other group had to leave the trek on a stretcher, and the others were caught in the rain on their way to the gorillas, so it must have been a cold and awful experience on their end.

us after the successful completion of our gorilla trek!!

we headed to a local inn nearby where we had a late lunch and could change into dry clothes. we then drove a bumpy 4 hours to mweya safari lodge, located inside queen elizabeth national park. we made a couple of stops along the way (one of which was in the middle of nowhere so that people could go pee out in the open where animals are potentially roaming around?!?!?) and when we finally arrived, it was already 830/9ish pm.... we insisted to order room service because we were pooped, and we got showered and hit the hay.

this cute sign was outside the lodge!

this super old school cash register was at the lodge too

jul 8, 19 ••• today started off with a game drive, early in the morning!

we drove around the gorgeous park and saw elephants, warthogs, antelope, eagles, all sorts of bird and butterflies, buffalo and weird-looking lemur or ferret creatures. we thought it was great, but some other members of the group were underwhelmed.

this is the view from the car we sat in for the safari

this gorgeous tree houses sooo many bird’s nests! do you see them?

cute antelope we saw on the tour

after lunch at the hotel, we went on a boat tour around the kazinga channel. i think it was called lake edward? we saw many animals again, including crocodile, elephants, buffalo, all sorts of birds, and hippos.

favorite photo of my parents ¨̮

we followed a few elephant cuties along the bank. it drizzled for a little bit in between.

dinner was delicious. it was a great buffet, although i was severely grossed out by the ants that joined us on the dining table.

there were so many animals on the grounds of the lodge. don’t be fooled by how cute these guys look, we saw them fight over raw meat at some point! we also saw a warthog stroll around.

jul 9, 19 ••• we were up bright and early today for a quick breakfast before heading right on out. on the way to entebbe, we stopped by a local motel for lunch. the service was SUPER slow (maybe because we had such a huge group together!) but it was delicious and worth the wait! i ordered a coleslaw and avocado vinaigrette (this was THE HUGEST AVOCADO i’ve ever seen in my life?!?!?), a veggie biryani and some of paul’s aloo matar. we then filed back into our cars for several more hours of “african massage” to the next destination. had an early night, i think we ordered room service to the hotel room and tried to get our butts to bed as early as possible because it was another EARLY day the morning after.

we stopped at the equator in uganda to take some photos, of course!

i was sooo happy to be able to order room service! we felt like we were finally back to civilization... 🥺 we had wifi and tv and hot water... ugh it was amazing

jul 10, 19 ••• my alarm was set for 4am this morning.... 🥲😅 we left the hotel at 5am for the airport and obviously i was tired and grumpy and just in a crappy mood overall hahahah. our first flight was barely 45 minutes.... to mbarara i’m guessing?? i was assigned a middle seat on my own originally but no one was in the aisle seat so i moved over woohoo! our first layover was 2-3 hours, not too bad. we hung around at the lounge area.

our second flight was to harare. alan and i managed to snag 2 joined seats towards the back end of the plane so that we could watch conan’s traevel shows on his ipad. there was a pretty scary drop when we were descending imto harare. i think we just stayed on the plane for about half an hour so some people could get on the plane and join.

we flew about 3 hours more to cape town, and we were EXCITED to arrive. it was a hell of a time checking in, and it was a nicer hotel in a nice area so we decided to just stay in and order room service again. we had a slow night and it was SOOOO needed. cape town felt a lot closer to the first world and we were enjoying and appreciating it to the max. we even started playing pokemon go and its harry potter-themed equivalent (oops forgot the name), but to be fair, we didn’t get cell phone service everywhere we went, so it would cut on and off.

jul 11, 19 ••• eek, cape town was COOOOLD! luckily i brought a jacket along, we really really needed to cover up and stay warm! got to sleep in a bit, we left by 830am to drive to the pebble beach by the water to take some gorgeous photos. we stopped by chapman’s peak for another photo op, then drove to boulders beach in simon’s town to see the penguins!! it was such a dream, loved every second of it.

i believe this was chapman’s peak??

what a model

this was at the pebble beach at the cape of good hope.

saw a cute ostrich on the way somewhere

next we went to cape point. we took the funicular to the top, then hiked up to the lighthouse. we took pots of great pics but omg it was EVEN MORE freezing there. we had lunch at the two oceans restaurant. fancy and delicious! the calamari was bomb, the arancini was alright, but the main of chickpea and mushrooms was delish. after lunch we headed right on back to the hotel.

when i said it was cold, i wasn’t joking... it was FREEZING at the top. i had a horrible time because i don’t do that well in the cold

alan and i walked over to woolworths to get water and makeup remover and snacks. on the way back we stopped by PLANT for dinner. i was sooo excited to try out their vegan fast food, so i ordered a lot of the menu. we got the quinoa salad, mac and cheez, seitan lasagna, schawarma, pot stickers, siu mai, spag bolognese, tiramisu, milk tart and a bunch of other random vegan snacks. i was in HEAVEN. even though some of the stuff was cold by the time we got back to the hotel and ate, it still tasted DELICIOUS. i was soooo impressed.

this was the lasagna. omfg i need an encore of this restaurant one day!!! wish i knew how to cook like this

jul 12, 19 ••• today we went to a wine blending workshop at grande provence winery. the first step was to blend 3 different mixtures. after tasting them all, we decided the last blend was the winner, with 40% zinfandel, 10% shiraz and 50% cabernet. so then we blended up a big bottle of it, corked it, thew on a hand-signed label, and then walked around the beautiful indoor and outdoor art galleries.

this was our group!

wine blending is literally mixing different wines together in different proportions and figuring out which you like the taste of the best

there was a lot of cute art at the winery! i loved all the dogs and greyhounds around the property. these 3 dancing pigs came a close second

we drove a little way for lunch at another beautiful vineyard. i had a charcoal ciabatta, tomato quinoa salad, root veggie risotto and steamed veggies on the side. we skipped the wine tasting because our lunch overran a bit and our bus driver buford said that the traffic would be pretty heavy on a friday afternoon and it wouldn’t be worth it to be stuck on the bus. so we just walked around the cute little town we were at, franschhoek (??)

there was a lot of cute art and small local shops around this town! we strolled around and got some souvenirs ¨̮

love this

we had a dinner booked way ahead at fyn restaurant. it was stunningly delicious. i loved every single course and was thoroughly impressed.

UGHHHHH just soooo good.

jul 13, 19 ••• FINALLY we had a day to sleep in!!!! we let our group know the night before that we didn’t want to join the walking tour around the city. we woke up and made our way to the company’s garden, which was directly next to our hotel. we played harry potter wizards unite and ran into the tour group. my mom told me later on it was a good decision of ours not to join haha.

we walked to addis in cape for an authentic ethiopian meal experience. we washed our hands at the table, ate the whole meal with our hands, and finally i was able to taste injera. it was 100% teff injera and it did not disappoint. i ordered a vegan platter while alan got a combo. the amount of food was PERFECT for us, we finished every single thing.

we ordered dessert but the hot berries never showed up and the ice cream was interestingly very gummy and very very sweet. the coffee was strong and served with a beautiful platter.

after that, we needed to walk our full tummies off. we headed to the waterfront, where there were many shops and stalls in indoor and outdoor malls. it was just a really good time walking around there and we saw soooo many things. there was bubble tea in south africa, a yogurt bar that made me sooo happy, dogs were up for adoption, and a bootleg jabbawockeez performance at the city square. we walked back to the hotel after that and got ready for bed.

jul 14, 19 ••• we woke up at 430am to head to the airport by 530am. we caught our first flight from cape town to johannesburg, then transferred to a direct flight back to hong kong. it was a TIRING trip but wow, the memories!! really want to go to back soon

#tanjastravels #tansworld #travel #wanderlust #tanja travels #tanjalan #cape town #uganda #gorilla #gorilla trekking #africa #south africa #safari #memories #travel memories #do you even travel

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retrorealeyes · 4 years ago

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Here’s why I want my parents dead /hj

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE like I know hating your parents if they aren’t overtly abusive (and even if they are it’s only mildly) like bruh, tempted to list out my parents “abuse” here. also like bruh, i’m fine rn, i’ve just been hating them for a while

This isn’t fully everything ever, it’s just an overview and I don’t think it touches the main problems enough (also I don’t give a lot of examples because there’s too many and I don’t have the will to write em all,and i’ve still overviewing everything)

-never respect my wishes if it goes against theirs (e.x. please leave me alone, can i go outside?, can I leave and go upstairs?)

this is a big one

-don’t respect my privacy (in weird ways too, like my dad opening the door to scare me when i’m changing) and making fun of it too

plus in normal ways like reading my journals or never knocking no matter how many times i tell them to

-making fun of me on purpose to get me upset, even when i ask them to stop

-getting suddenly and violently angry (dad):

often unreasonably and quickly

my dad curses people out under his breath, as a sign he’s going to get violent

has broken things, SUCH AS MY WHOLE ASS PHONE by throwing it on the ground does punch things, generally not people, e.x. walls, but not that hard. he has punched me

DOES to people- slap, push (this one especially, just last week he did), throw, scratch

is destructive to other’s property (e.x. ripping up THEIR papers)

refuses to listen to suggestions like, in the future, trying to calm down, or writing out his anger instead or seeking therapy

been like this towards me since i was 6-7 years old

it can escalate from anything

will degrade you and insult you, if you ever say anything back (even in a non-angry situation, will grow even angrier/get very angry)

makes you feel awful

can last for hours and never accomplishes anything apart from further degrading yourself

if you don’t give the exact answer he wants, will get even angrier

I’m obviously terrified of him

Swears at me, except they censor me so much they could probably kill me if I ever swore so that exacerbates the fear of it

after the fact continuosly denies it

-my dad also:

always demands respect

always plays the victim and complains about how we dislike him

never admits his mistakes

is awful to my little sister, randomly, even when she’s being perfectly fine

-my mother and father’s relationship

they openly and mean to each other. they never display affection and joke about divorcing

sometimes dad yells at mom for a while, it’s obvious he thinks he’s superior to her and belittles her intelligence

they are sometimes violent, but not often, and not overtly, more violent towards objects than each other when fighting with each other

they do get in fights often (see: my dad’s belief in his superiority)

-openess with them

there is none. they constantly criticize any self expression, make all subjects taboo, get angry over nothing and overall make me terrified of talking to them, then get all sad about “why don’t you tell us“ but if I try to express anything, even if they don’t get angry, they’ll store it in their heads and then later keep using it against me. “You said we were bad parents, do you not want to eat our food?“ “You said you were unmotivated, you don’t even have a reason to be sad.“ (said in an challenging, mean way)

-my self esteem

-my dad, physically (TO BE CLEAR I don’t think my dad in any way in trying to do anything sexual, i’m just saying he never respects my boundaries and here are some things he thinks are “perfectly fine” that he does, also this might be a bit disconnected sounding, i’m just so tired

commenting on my weight/appearance (mom too)

commenting on what i’m wearing, especially teasing me if it’s something out of the usual, as if i’m not insecure enough already

dictating what i wear if they don’t like what i’m wearing

commenting (negatively) on my mom’s weight a lot (to be fair, they both joke about being old and him balding and a little about him being fat so this one isn’t as bad apart form the fact that i’m skinnier so he “jokes” a lot about how i’m like a skinnier version of her)

fatso called the girl in the video

forces me to hug and kiss him, often only giving my phone back or treats luke donuts if I kiss him, even if I’ve expressed i’m uncomfortable (just does this a lot and i hate it)

-the past

have yelled for me for no reason since i was young

i don’t remember ever liking my dad (wait, before 6 years of age i remember liking him and before I was 9 i remember not hating him at all times)

i continously try to trust them again, then they break me

they were never open with me and taught me to be ashamed of myself which led to bad social relations later, which i’m only now breaking out of

-confiscation and lack of trust

always taking my stuff so i can’t rely on what they’ll black mail me with, no “excuse” is valid to keep it (ex. I want to communicate w/friends or I LITERALLY HAVE INSOMNIA AND CAN’T SLEEP WITHOUT LISTENING TO MUSIC); during my worst days, when I was really suicidal i remember not having my phone for a long time which led to me being left behind and further isolating myself which, y’know spiralled

I can go on and on about how they never value my voice but i’m sort of running out of steam

they also never trust my statements, always cast me as the cause-r of something (luckily they’re fair and don’t punish me for it if I insist I didn’t do it, but the fact i have to really advocate for my innocence and am constantly suspected just is not great, and even jokingly, i hate attention, their attention)

There’s more but i think i’m done for now

-constantly bother me (i know this is nitpicking, i’m just trying to get everything out, and some of these have more layers than i’m willing to express)

intentionally sabotaging

even if i ask them to go away

try to annoy me when ever i see them, even if i’ve asked them not too, and really make me avoid everything even more (you have to go through where they usually are to get out and that means y’know what)

singing

yelling and stepping loudly (which makes me scared my dad is mad all the time)

always teasing and judging

-mother dearest

very aggressive

VERY controlling

generally boring

always invades privacy, more of a nosy person, but, in a way, better than dad

she can get violent too and screams but it’s less often but can get very intense sometimes, generally it’s more of taking away my stuff and telling me to give up (which, the telling me to give up, my dad does too)

-lack of independence

THIS ONE IS HUGE. my parents are very controlling and so even a little freedom excites me and they use my lack of experience as a sword against me, and that makes it eve harder for me to do anything when I’m constantly fighting restrictions and my brains can’t distinguish bad restrictions from schoolwork restrictions

-shitty world view

just a bad biased view of the world, i really don’t want to elaborate, beyond the general sense they deserve to be respected for being parents a conservative-type view, also don’t have basic sense of morality, as in sympathy, for everyone, and instead do the whole us|them thing with their politics, the only problem is that we’re immigrants which is why they vote democrat

-grandparents

are visiting, they are also unhygienic, to always be obeyed, generally judgemental, and intentionally old, and taking up both of my rooms, overall i don’t like any of them, my father’s mom is alright though

-generally shaming me

And otherwise everything is generally going to shit, my social life (though I saved it somewhat for ONE person), my mental/emotional health, my exercise, motivation for anything, just the way the house is set up, my grandparents are here, how i’m doing in school.

I should write the thesis and really flesh this out well but I’ll tell you what: ultimately my parents are selfish people who don’t consider me my own entity but more as themselves and my achievements combined. ANd even if you love me, which I don’t doubt, I don’t have to love you back, and that doesn’t excuse your shittiness, dad. I fucking hate you. (yes. i’m grateful for the money, house, generally not obviously abusive childhood, food, stuff, bed, phone, etc. you have provided, but that doesn’t cancel out your misdeeds, it just coexists next to it)

Like is it SO bad for me to blame SOME of my issues with them? BUT NO if I ever bring up how they did x so i did y. I did y ON PURPOSE to UPSET THEM and i can’t hold them accountable, i’m just blaming them, even if I’m genuinely trying to explain my issues the way I understand them.

idr if you can edit tumblr documents, and even if you can, i’m not going to, i’ll just add to this with comments, to preserve the integrity, not that anyone will or should read this, but i’ll probably come back to it

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everythingoesnk · 5 years ago

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Once in Rockfield Farm (2/5)

summary; just roger being a cute little shit. hang on there because things will get spicy after this one i promise

word count; 5 365

warnings; none i believe?

part 1

********

After a hideous long day dealing with a professor about why he should consider giving extra credit in the assignment you presented, you came home feeling resentful.

The only goal up your mind now was to take a hot bath and shut out the world.

Exhausted, you yawned and headed to the dining room to greet the boys with Sherlock on your heels, finding extremely satisfying to hear the flames of the fireplace rustling.

The scene you encountered filled you with tenderness: Freddie, John and Roger were sitting on the carpet, playing Scrabble already in their pyjamas devouring a huge pizza with the fire glowing in their precious sleepy faces.

"If you're gonna cheat you can leave the way you came" Freddie noted, clearly irritated.

Roger clicked his tongue, bored. He knew from experience Freddie was a sore loser.

His eyes fell on you as soon as you showed up.

You smiled timidly and looked away when you saw him roaming your figure, baffled that you liked the attention. His lack of precariousness, too absorbed in your curves to even care if you caught him, made your stomach flutteri n a sweet way.

“Oh, darling, hi. I didn’t hear you come in” Freddie was gathering the tiles up to start a new game.

“Hello, (Y/N)” John smiled and stretched his legs.

“How was your day?” Roger questioned in a throaty voice, still recovering from how your entrance got him weak in the knees.

You placed a slice of the pizza on top of a napkin, watching with desire the cheese melting.

“Awful. Where’s Brian?”

“He’s asleep” John explained.

“It’s only nine p.m.” you replied, surprised that he went to bed so soon.

“We’ve had a tough day”

Ah, you didn’t need to hear more. The last few days for them in the studio had been nothing but intense and frustrating.

Freddie offered you to join the game, but you preferred to observe. Seeing them mess with each other was much more entertaining.

You laughed till your belly and cheeks hurt when Freddie threw a pack of cigarettes at Roger’s face, accusing him of cheating again. The other became defensive pointing out how many suspicious words Freddie tried to make them believe they existed. Poor John tried to get in between the discussion to hurry things up, but knowing very damn well they wouldn’t listen, he came to sit next to you on the sofa.

The look he was giving you was nothing but perturbing.

"When are you going to perform for us?" he asked, straight down to business.

You too, John?

Sherlock jumped and plopped down on his lap.

“Roger told us you have a wonderful voice. He said more things actually, but I don’t want to embarrass him”

Aggressively, your face turned a weird shade of pink. You hid it burying your head in your hands and peeked out at him through your fingers.

“Shut up”

John cackled.

“It’s rude only Rog got to listen to you. You’re not that good at hiding your favouritism, let me tell you” Freddie taunted.

“She’s awful at hiding her favouritism, but you two need to cut it off” Roger instructed, and sent a cocky grin your way.

“Yeah, leave me— what?” his eyes sparkled with playfulness. “I never said you were my favourite, don’t flatter yourself. And for the record, you were acting the same the other day”

He licked his lower lip, a not so innocent smile plastered on them.

“It didn’t take me more than two minutes to convince you”

“Oh, shoo” you laughed, covering your mouth. “He said I sounded like an angel, did he tell you guys this?” you asked, playfully peering at Roger from the corner of your eye to confirm if he was still looking at you.

He was. He couldn’t not to when you were around.

John wanted to say that he did, repeatedly, and that when he mentioned how enchanting your voice was, Roger himself sounded so proud and utterly devoted to it.

Freddie exchanged a look with his disco friend that spoke volumes. The latter had a small smile ghosting his lips as he watched the scene develop.

“What are you trying to imply? C’mon, I see how you look at me when we’re rehearsing” Roger provokingly pointed out, emphasizing his words with the most coquettish smile, messing with his hair.

His eyes felt so heavy on you, stare loaded with… something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be confused, I look at Brian” you assured, resting your chin on your palm, one big grin on your lips.

“Do you? Well, you leave no other option but to get rid of him. Where could I hide the body? I’m lucky you have plenty of land”

You giggled genuinely, and Roger felt the need to get up and kiss you.

“(Y/N)” John called.

You didn’t even realize he left your side until you saw him at the door.

“Someone’s asking for you” he stated, gesturing to the rotary phone in the entrance.

You stood up, and as you walked past him, a pouting Roger grabbed you by the ankle, earning a chuckle from you in return. He was upset you had to leave to answer the call. That little teasing game with you was making his day.

Boisterous chaos of voices erupted from the living room when you were gone, the boys annoying Roger with comments about his soft behaviour towards you.

Disappointment rushed over you when you heard who was on the other end of the line.

“Hi, dad”

“What kind of circus have you put up at home?” he asked in a rather unpleased tone.

You didn’t tell your parents about your decision to have a rockband move in. It had nothing to do with them anyway; it didn’t affect their day to day.

John probably had to properly introduce himself since he picked up, giving a little away about who he was and why he answered his daughter’s call. You were embarrassed about what your father could’ve said to him, knowing he could turn out to be very austere and unfriendly.

“It’s a long story, dad, but don’t worry. Everything’s fine, they’re not staying forever, y’know”

“How would I know?”

He had a point.

“We don’t want you near that kind of people, you listen?” he protested into the receiver.

You found it funny and exasperating at the same time that your father, being as clever as he was –you’d grown to know that being clever didn’t necessarily mean someone was intelligent—, heard the word "rocker" and instantly related it to a person with poor hygiene and an IQ below average. A beast whom you just aren’t able to have a normal conversation with because the only thing they know about is sex.

He probably assumed they lived half their life in prison as well, because why not.

“We’re coming over on Saturday” he continued.

“Okay”

“And they better be gone”

You had to control the urge to scream at him for being so stubborn.

“They’re staying as long as they need, period. My grades are as excellent as ever, by the way” you enunciated, hanging up on him in the middle of a word.

That hot bath was very much needed now.

Saturday came sooner than you thought.

And you were terrified.

Since it was pretty noticeable how stressed you were about the reunion with your parents, who were coming all the way from America, the boys volunteered to set the table and save you the work.

The temperature had dropped a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant either, so everyone voted democratically to eat outside next to the pool.

Brian and John were busy placing the cutlery, Freddie and Mary stayed in the kitchen keeping an eye on the chicken.

"I knew I’d meet them someday, but not so soon. I didn’t even ask you out yet" joked Roger, approaching you from behind.

He waited for a reaction to his attempt to make you laugh and hopefully go red like you always did when he made that type of comments.

A line appeared between his brows when you exhaled, your languid gaze stuck in a random spot in the distance, huddling to the door frame. Roger loomed closer to you, thoughtfully, as you two watched Sherlock chasing a rabbit from the front door.

“Are they that bad?”

“No, ‘f course not. They’re also vain, self-centred, insensitive, hostile,” you sighed in despair, “and horrible parents”

Roger opened his mouth but you weren’t done.

“Just let me do the talking. The less you interact with them, the better”

You closed the door with your foot, turned around and paced back and forth, biting your nails.

Roger couldn’t help but stare.

Despite how anxious you were and the permanent meditative expression in your face, he cocked his head as he stared at you with a teeny tiny grin on his lips.

How did you manage to look so truly gorgeous all the damn time? That question kept coming back to haunt him.

Roger got used to it, yet he didn’t found an answer. Perhaps you were just the prettiest and most stunning living creature he’d ever seen.

“Chill out, love”

You checked the clock hanging on the wall and spared Roger a glance.

He chuckled at you crossing your arms across your chest, finger tapping them nervously.

“When you meet them you’ll know what I mean”

“Everything’s ready” Brian announced, walking in. “I’ll check how’s the meal going, I don’t trust those two with anything”

John followed him, hands shoved in his pockets, and sent you the sweetest reassuring smile.

You were so glad and grateful that you had these people with you. Whenever you were alone with your parents you felt overwhelmingly depressed.

As you jerked your head in Roger’s direction for he hadn’t said a thing for a good minute, you saw him massaging his temple and eyeing you. Your heart began galloping like crazy. He looked fucking handsome like that.

Like if he were debating where to start devouring you.

“W-what?”

Roger walked up to you until he was just mere inches away.

“It’ll be alright, okay? We’re here”

A now familiar tingling feeling to your closeness invaded him when he slowly extended his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch, craving for him to don’t even considerate walking away now.

Tongue-tied, unable to produce a word, you were sure you were more than ready for him to do whatever he wanted to do with you at that very moment.

Roger rubbed his thumb against your skin, the only effective way he could think of to make you relax. What he didn’t know was that relaxing wasn’t in your dictionary at the moment, not when his docile fingertips were so incredibly soft, delicately and tenderly brushing your anxiety far away.

“How long’s it been since you last saw them?”

You sighed dramatically, disappointed when he dropped his hand to the side.

“One year, one and a half. I don’t remember”

Roger jabbed your side with his elbow.

“I don’t know if you know, but they have the most amazing daughter” he muttered, gaze fixed somewhere else, nodding to himself. “She’s about to graduate and has an enormous beautiful heart. And enough talent to end careers if she wanted to. Don’t tell her, but thank God she’s not releasing any records or we’d be screwed”

Every word he listed genuine, he expected more than anything to make you smile.

Hopeless to compliments as you were, you didn’t know what to respond. He was being so disgustingly sweet. It sent your heart rate beyond the damn Milky Way.

“‘Bottomless pit’, that’s what they said when she mentioned her intentions to become a musician”

Roger huffed.

“Fuck them, then” he spat without thinking,

Soon he regretted it, upsetting you being the last thing he wanted now, but he visibly relaxed when you snickered, making his stomach flip.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em”

Roger laughed and you laughed too.

He looked at you warmly.

“There you go. That’s what I was longing to hear, your cheeky and charming laugh”

It started to fade away moderately at his comment, and you furrowed an eyebrow.

“What?”

He grinned cheekily looking down at you.

“Nothing”

“My love, what are you doing?” Freddie asked Mary, who’d been peeking out the kitchen door for a while.

"Shh," she waved Freddie off, staring at you and Roger sharing a moment. She then returned to meet Brian, John and Freddie. "I didn't know Roger and (Y/N) were getting along this well”

A dark thought clouded her mind within milliseconds.

“You don’t look very pumped about it” Brian pointed out.

“We all know how he is”

“He won’t use her that way”

“How are you so sure?”

Brian raised an eyebrow when he found out he didn’t have a coherent answer for that. He just felt it in his guts that Roger wouldn’t treat you like one of his groupies.

“I just know”

“I second that” Freddie spoke, a little bit annoyed that Mary was so quick to jump to conclusions. “And honey, you were the first one to tell (Y/N) he’d bang her. I heard you two, you planted the seed”

“I never imagined she’d be into him, I thought she had a type. She prefers them a few years older… or used to” she added in a low voice.

“That’s just stupid, Mary” John interrupted.

The other two turned their heads and looked at him as if they were seeing John for the first time. Brian nodded; Freddie grinned.

“There’s no such thing as a ‘type’. When it comes to being attracted to another person you can never tell”

“I’m just surprised” she coughed, and grabbed a bowl to make a salad. “They do, then, like each other?”

“Roger’s into her, I think it’s obvious? I can’t read minds, so I’m-“

“Did he tell you?”

“-I’m not entirely sure about (Y/N). And no, he hasn’t. There’s really no need for him to verbalize it. One day I had to go get him because these two were arguing again,” he loitered around the door in case one of you would come, not wanting you to know they were talking about this, “and when I found him in the studio they were together”

“But that doesn’t mean anything“

“Mary, listen, if you’d seen what I saw, Roger’s face. I don’t know. I don’t know what they’d been talking about, but the way he was looking at her… I don’t know how to explain it”

“Try?” Mary glanced up at him.

He hesitated for a bit.

“Like if she were special”

Mary’s brows knitted.

The sound of the bell made your throat go dry.

You’d been listening patiently to Roger explaining that they were supposed to head to London for a meeting with Rheid the next day in the morning, hence why you didn’t hear them pull over.

“Please make sure everything’s good over there while I attend them”

Roger nodded and left, concerned on the inside when he noticed how the colour evacuated your face.

It felt like a kick in the stomach, the emptiness of where he stood seconds ago.

You needed him but you felt you couldn’t let him know, ‘cause it would be weird. Why would you need Roger for, exactly? To be by your side to welcome your parents? Stupid, right?

The relationship with them was… there wasn’t. One in which they fulfilled their function, better or worse? No. They never filled the mould.

With your father it was bad. With your mother, hard to explain.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t admire them as individuals for their accomplishments: your father was the owner of a law firm based in New York. Hadn’t lost a case in years, and that sure was the main reason behind the reputation of ‘untouchable’ he had. Your mother’d been a pilot for the USAF, but she was involved in an accident and in a wheelchair for life now, forcing her to retire earlier than suspected.

Awkwardly, you collected yourself, palms blooming with sweat as you twisted the handle.

Only your mother laid eyes on you when you starred their field of view.

“What were you up to? We’ve been waiting for a good five minutes”

Ignoring your father’s sharp comment, you tilted your body forwards for your mum to embrace you.

The thing about her was that deep down you were sure she was on your side about your inclinations concerning your future (she knew you inherited her father’s talent), but she wasn’t brave enough to let you know from her in case you’d use it in your favour against your father.

You wished the relationship with your future husband wasn’t based on the same pillars as their marriage.

“My sweet child”

Your father pushed her wheelchair inside and you hurried to close the door behind him.

"Father," you said politely, almost in a robotic manner, not really wanting to go through this.

And also because he didn't like hugs nor kisses on the cheek you kept the distance, conscious that that was what he expected from you.

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll get the others”

You turned around and quickly withdrew to the kitchen before they could say anything that challenged your nerves.

They looked at each other and you heard your mum whisper to him to “please behave”.

They seemed to loosen up a little when they recognized a familiar face, Mary’s, amongst the five people that followed you.

After introducing Queen, you offered everyone to take a seat at the table so you could start to serve lunch.

A sincere microscopic smile settled on your mother’s lips, but your father had his stern gaze upon Roger, who held his hand out to shake his.

“Hello, mister. It’s a pleasure”

With Roger’s hand still hanging in the air, your father looked at you stony eyed.

What was it about Roger that got him so creepy?

You took a fast glance at him to see what could possibly be your father’s source of irritation, and your eyes grew wider.

Father and Mother were wearing expensive, chic clothes, as per usual. Not a single wrinkle in his suit, her dress impeccable. Roger’s sense of style was everything, actually one of the many things that first attracted you to him. Regardless that, seeing him now made you close your eyes to internally pray for the ground to swallow you.

With a quick hand movement, you covertly gestured him to button up the blouse with floral motifs he was wearing, since he had his torso totally exposed.

A Mona Lisa expression was all he could pull off while working on getting it done.

At the head of the table sat your father, your mother next to him in the corner. Then Mary, Freddie and Brian, you in front of your mother, Roger on your left and John to conclude.

Uncorking the bottle of red wine, you listened as your mum and Mary established a pretty basic conversation to catch up. Luckily you had Mary to ease the mood.

You asked Freddie to help you with the starters and walked to the kitchen.

“They seem nice”

“Freddie I swear to God”

“We could always kick them out or have an orgy in front of them. Would that meet their standards of what rockstars do for a living?”

“There,” you handed him two plates, “do not drop ‘em, I plead you”

Freddie could finally settle down from going back and forth carrying things when you brought with you Roger’s and John’s food.

John muttered a ‘thank you’ and Roger scratched your back when you plopped onto the chair.

Maybe you were imagining things, but it sort of felt… different to a simply friendly rub.

You shook your head, shut up (Y/N).

“When’s the graduation ceremony?” wondered your dad before putting the first spoon of hummus in his mouth.

“The 19th”

“That’s around the corner, aren’t you excited?” your mum said.

“Very”

“I’ve already chosen my outfit. I won’t give any details away, though. Do you have yours?” Mary cheerfully interfered.

“Eh… no”

“Well, you should really go shopping with Mary. She has an eye for fashion” your mum remarked.

“Thank you. I’ve learned a lot from Freddie, I must say” she turned her head and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“M, make sure you bring the Nikon to take good photos. I don’t want them to miss a detail of such important day in my life” you sneered without mincing.

They wouldn’t make it to the ceremony and it made your blood boil that they were looking so forward to it. What for? They wouldn’t even be present to witness it themselves.

Mary’s smile turned into a grimace, and she suddenly found the bread positioned next to her fork the most interesting item her eyes ever registered.

"Shade's unnecessary, don't even begin," your dad said severely. "We won't be drinking fucking cocktails in Barbados; we've got responsibilities in the States"

“And I’m sure you tried by all efforts to make it possible” you took a sip of the wine, still not making any eye contact with them.

Instead, you looked at Mary. She was begging for you to take it easy; you knew her too well to be able to communicate without words.

“(Y/N)” your dad warned.

“No, it just shocks me that being the powerful businessman that you are you cannot pull strings out to be there”

Shit, you needed to stop. Your eyes started to water out of bitterness and that wasn’t fucking cool. You’d cried too much over the years because of them and were able to stop the tears from falling at this point, but it was infuriating.

A promise is a promise, and you promised yourself to not shed more tears when it came to them. They didn’t deserve it.

Towards the end of the meal things cooled down a bit thanks to Mary again, that kept everyone distracted talking about… you didn’t even know what the hell she was talking about, lost in your own world.

Your breaking point reached the verge when your dad came at Brian.

At motherfucking Brian. The sweetest human to walk the Earth.

“Apart from playing the guitar, is there anything else you can do? In case the band flops”

That was it. That was fucking it.

You slammed the table, palms settled down against it.

Roger wrapped his hand around your thigh below the table.

“What the heck? Who do you think you are? Do you really think you’re superior to them? To anyone sitting at this table?” you were all noisy breathing.

Shaking your head in disapproval, you were about to put him in his place, and neither your mother or Mary would make you back down.

Alongside a high chin and flaring nostrils, you dad’s eyes burned as he scrutinized you. The thing he hated the most was when someone embarrassed him in public –which didn’t happen often—, but he knew if he dared to speak now it’d only make things worse.

“Brian owns a PhD title in Astronomy, Freddie a diploma in Graphic Arts and Design, Rog a bachelor’s degree in Biology, and John a 1st Class Honours Degree in Electronics. Shut your ugly clown ass mouth for once”

“(Y/N), please…” your mum begged.

Your dad stood up, and you pulled yourself to your feet to not give him the satisfaction to appear bigger, which’d psychologically help his ego.

Roger rose from the chair and pressed his lips together at the wounded look in your face. He grabbed you by the waist instinctively and pulled you closer to him.

“Why don’t we go inside…” Mary recommended the rest in almost a whisper.

You screwed your eyes shut, and when you felt like opening them, thankfully it was only you and Roger.

"See what I've got to put up with? Fuckin' surreal. You may think I exaggerated but he's a crackhead and I wasn't going to let him say anything nasty about any of you. I'm only sorry for my mum, she doesn't deserve— I keep thinking about the what-ifs. What if they divorced. What if grandpa was still alive. Oh, Rog. You'd love him, he was a gift from heaven"

The world stopped together with your talking when you felt Roger’s arms enveloping you in a hug, drawing you into his chest.

“Shut up for a bit and breathe”

Roger’s scent induced you in a daze that wouldn’t allow you to collect your thoughts.

In hopes of helping, he stroked your hair and yet pulled you even closer to him, kissing the crown of your head.

What you didn’t know was that Roger was as stunned as you were, completely blown away by how gratifying it was to be attached to one another. You nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. The ringlets in his hair tickling your forehead.

Seconds, a minute, half an hour, a day, centuries, you didn’t know how much time you spent like this, with him leisurely clutching at your body.

Slowly, you physically distanced yourself a little from the warmth that his body irradiated. Not too far away, though, still safe in his arms.

Locking eyes was probably the worst choice for your well being you could’ve had made: he’d been searching your face for a sign that you were less anxious, but once you looked up at him through your lashes, he was entirely yours.

Foreheads quite close but still at a reasonable extent, none of you looked away.

“Hey” Roger mumbled.

"Hi," you uttered, voice barely audible.

“You okay?”

“I’ve had better days” you laughed mirthlessly.

“How can I help?”

“You’re doing enough coping with me now”

His fingers slipped around your upper arms. Roger watched you, unsure about your very questionable answer.

You flashed a tired grin but he wasn’t buying any of it.

“Rog, I’m okay. It’s not the first time I quarrel with my dad, and it won’t be the last”

“Then why don’t you talk to him and lay cards on the table?”

“Do you really think I haven’t done that already? It’s like talking to a wall. And whenever I bring up the subject, he encourages me to stop with the bullshit because ‘it’s not funny anymore’”

Roger shook his head in disgust.

“Enrolling for university was my choice, anyway” you muttered.

“They brainwashed you! Goddammit, if it wasn’t for them you’d be filling stadiums with a sea of people singing your lyrics back at you” he said, raising his voice.

Nibbling on your lower lip, you dragged your gaze back to him. Did he really mean that?

“Do you… you believe so?”

“If everything you’ve written is nearly as good as what you sang to me the other day… yes, I do. You’d be ruling the world”

“Overdoing it much, ay?” you gave him an affectionate nudge, unable to stop a large smile from appearing.

“Am I?”

“A bit”

He smirked and bit his inside cheek. You giggled watching him looking up to the clouds, pretending to think of an answer.

“I’m your number one fan, what can I say”

Looping your arm around his neck, you pulled him close to your side.

He stared meaningfully at you, watching you ran your thumb over his cheek in admiration.

At that very moment, if it weren’t for the fact that you were an insecure and doubtful human being, you’d have kissed him without a second thought. And if it weren’t for the fact that he knew you deserved better than him, he’d have crushed his mouth into yours and told you he was madly crazy about you from day one.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Rog. You’ve been nothing but supportive. It doesn’t go unnoticed” you revealed, tipping your eyes up to him.

His heart skipped a beat.

During the first weeks, he wasn’t certain about why his heart kept skipping any beats because of you. That answer he’d been searching was most likely unleashed by now.

Building the courage to suggest you to go to dinner someday, he got interrupted by Mary, who reemerged from the sliding glass door that connected the backyard to the living room.

She couldn’t manage to speak for a moment, somewhat surprised and unpleased at the sight of you and Roger so relatively close.

“Your parents are leaving”

You frowned, freeing Roger from your grasp, and then put on an “I-Don’t-Really-Care” mask on.

“Fine”

They were already at the door. You sighed.

Mother had an expression of concern, and Father didn’t even bother to cover his discomfort and willing to get the hell out of there.

The farewell with your dad was short and full of negative energy, so you were relieved when he hurried out to the car after saying that he wished you well, with the “until next time” plain line afterwards. Your mum took your hand in hers, blinking her tears back.

You whispered a low apology, but she shook her head.

Why everything had to be so difficult with them?

Tears threatening to escape your eyes at the sudden jolt of sorrowness, you wiped your nose with the back of your free hand, since the other one was still being held steady by your mother’s.

“Your boyfriend…”

“Roger?” you lifted your eyebrow, dazed. “You mean Roger? He’s not my boyfriend”

Her eyes crinkled. If he weren’t at least someone important to you beyond the friendzone, you wouldn’t have been so quick to know she was referring to him.

“How he rushed to protect you from your dad back there… I thought he was. My bad”

By the mischievous half smile she had, you could tell she was implying that whatever the situation was, it wasn’t as innocent as you thought.

“Okay…” you trailed off.

“I love you, baby. Take care of yourself, please”

A series of busy sounds awakened you.

Sullenly checking the clock on the nightstand, you swore to the angels you'd kill whoever was making so much noise so freaking early.

You snarled and covered yourself aggressively again.

Someone opened the door, and just enough to see, you stuck your head over the top of the sheet.

That person didn’t turn on the light so they wouldn’t blind you, but you immediately sat down and turned it on yourself with the switch next to the headboard, in which you subsequently supported yourself against.

When you realized it was Roger, still with a face of drowsiness and hair without combing, the upset he’d caused you decreased precipitously.

It was unfair. He was so cute it hurt.

"Rog?"

An annoying heat rose to your cheeks. You were sure your look wasn’t the most flattering.

"Sorry, sorry"

"What’s it?” you asked, worried.

"Nothing bad, sorry I woke you up like that. But I have an idea"

"An idea? At six in the morning? It better be bloody good"

He smiled, visibly thrilled, and sat at the foot of your bed.

"Remember what I told you yesterday?"

"No, I don’t. Don’t make me think now" you groaned, wishing you could go back to sleeping.

"We have a meeting in London, we’ll spend the whole day there. I want you to come with me. Us… us”

"Me?” you rubbed your eyes, tired and surreptitiously having to fight back yawn after yawn. “What for? I’d be completely out of place in a Queen meeting"

"You cannot attend it. Though I wouldn’t mind"

"So? I have finals, and—"

"Jesus, (Y/N). I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer"

"Why do you insist so much? I simply don’t understand what the purpose of me going is"

"Please, come"

The glint in his eyes was irresistible.

It’d been a while since you’d mentally agreed, but you were dying to know what he was up to. Apparently it was a surprise, and knowing Roger, he wouldn’t give anything away.

If you wanted to know, you’d just have to trust and follow him.

********

hope y’all liked it. a reblog would help me a lot <3

tagging: @sweetdaisys @multifics @incorrcctqueen @namelesslosers

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sam-not-samantha · 5 years ago

Photo

The Blackwoods & the Rheiders

“A train wreck dynasty of cash stacks and funny farms.”

#sltask02

[Photos embedded, but not all characters have a faceclaim.]

The Blackwoods (Immediate)

Andrew Blackwood | Father | June 21, 1969-April 30, 2017 “Paycheck giver. Businessman. Quiet and kind, yet so apathetic.” Eliza Blackwood (née Rheider) | Mother | October 28, 1971-April 30, 2017 “Whiny bitch. Passive-aggressive. Judgmental. Tasteless. Fucking DEAD.” Samantha “Sam” Blackwood | Self | February 5, 1995 “Best fucking person you’ll ever meet.”

The Extended (And not-so-distant)

Jodi Rheider | Maternal aunt | July 1, 1975 “Anti-vaxer. Vegan. Cunt. Used to get cocktails with Kris Jenner.” Jenna Rheider | Maternal cousin | April 14, 1994 “Brainless twit. And a narc; ratted me out for doing coke only for her mom to do the rest.” Connor Rheider | Maternal cousin | November 2, 1999 “Quirky. Genius. Loves drones. Probably in charge of WikiLeaks.”

Luke Rheider | Maternal uncle | May 4, 1966 “Pretentious. Thinks old money is anything over a year. Football fan. Moron.” Charli Diamond | Maternal aunt-in-law | October 31, 1982 “Second wife. Thinks Luke’s gonna die soon, but she deserves gold. Refused the name.” Bastien Rheider | Maternal cousin | January 28, 1988 “One of the two actually cool people in this family. Sarcastic. Sick. Sweet.” Evie Rheider | Maternal first cousin, once removed | September 12, 2008 “Started sweet, is now fully demonic.”

Paul Blackwood | Paternal uncle | October 6, 1965 “Loudly republican. Loudly terrible. Horrible suits. Still calls me ‘Squirt’.” Charlotte Blackwood (née Gilfrey) | Paternal aunt-in-law | May 10, 1967 “If Ann Coulter was slightly younger and somehow slightly worse.” Kim Blackwood | Paternal cousin | August 1, 1987 “Couture PotteryBarn expert. Insufferable. Screechy. Trend-chaser.” George White | Cousin-in-law-to-be | November 7, 1980 “The manifestation of Kim’s daddy issues. Wedding date is permanently TBD.” Lisa Blackwood | Paternal cousin | April 9, 1989 “Mini-Eliza. Clothing terrorist. Should’ve been aborted.” Salvatore Stracci | Cousin-in-law-to-be | October 22, 1976 “Tall, Italian and scary. Also in a state of perpetual engagement and dissatisfaction.” Alessandro Blackwood | Paternal first cousin, once removed | May 31, 2010 “Had to hold him at a party once. He spat on me.”

Michael Blackwood | Patnernal uncle | May 1, 1967 “I legitimately don’t know if he and Paul are different people.” Natalie Blackwood (née Gainsbourg) | Paternal aunt-in-law | July 1, 1968 “Quiet, but clearly judgmental. Alopecia. Clings to Michael desperately.” Heather Blackwood | Paternal cousin | March 14, 1990 “The only sane woman. Editor at Harper’s Bazaar with Natalie. Goddess. Soul sister.”

Matthew Blackwood | Paternal uncle | Stillborn August 8, 1970

Dances– The Blackwoods | A Personal Essay (Written pre-parental death).

It was a dance.

It always was, no matter what. No, there was never any music. No stage. No choreography. But conversations with my mother were always an intricate samba on a tightrope.

It could begin at any moment, about anything. Simple small talk about where I went for brunch yesterday morning could turn into a bitchfest about my weight– as if being 110 was something to be ashamed of. The mere presence of an unopened, monthly bank statement could turn into a lecture about financial responsibility– as if she wasn’t surrounded by new, shiny things and maxed out AMEX cards. And, far more recently, a quick, innocent glance at the alcohol cabinet would have me sat down with some professional life coach while she watched, a vodkatini in hand.

Eliza Blackwood (born Eliza Rheider in 1971) was a bitch. An absolute bitch. A wretched, spoiled, high-strung, narcissistic, classist, borderline-anorexic, Valium-addicted, Shalimar-drenched, Kris Jenner-wannabe bitch. She was lucky she came from money, because if she wasn’t, I don’t think she’d be alive right now. I mean, I’m lucky, too, but I’m grateful for what I have.

Her parents were corporate assholes– her dad worked for Goldman Sachs, and his wife was a vapid, shrill, useless little brat not unlike her daughter. And, of course, that unloveable little bitch went and married someone who could satisfy her financial needs and not embarrass the family name– Andrew Blackwood, a New York politician from a family of Wall Street types (Some of whom also worked at Goldman Sachs, which is how the two met). On paper, they were a match made in heaven. A wealthy politician and his obnoxious jetsetter wife.

But, fortunately for me, even though I hadn’t been born quite yet, Andrew was a good, caring man. While Eliza was (and still is) ruthless, selfish and absolutely disgustingly horrible, Andrew had a heart. He cared about people. And things. Which was why he went into politics. He wanted to make a change. While his family was a bunch of wealthy Republicans, he was entirely Democratic, a fact that nearly alienated from them entirely (if only it had actually managed to keep his family out of my life) which is why I’m still in awe that he wound up with a pathetic Paris Hilton knockoff. A politician with a heart of gold wound up with a blue blood twat who measures her love in karats.

But back to her dances.

I’m not entirely sure where they come from. I mean, no matter how much you analyze someone and their family and upbringing and everything, you can’t pin point their personality traits and their behaviors. That said, I think I have a fair amount of clues as to where Eliza’s horrid personality came from.

While her relationship with her mother is mostly concealed to me, their lifestyle was no secret. Eliza always went on about how well she lived as a kid, how luxurious her house was, how high the thread count in the sheets of her crib was, and how she washed her face with caviar or something. But how she got along with her mother was never fully described. I’ve seen hints here and there– a glare across a table at a gala or whispers on the phone. But I don’t know too much. As far as I know, Eliza’s mother– Mrs. Karen Rheider– didn’t even bother to raise any of her three children. I wouldn’t have been surprised had they all been raised by a nanny while Karen went went on living as a trophy wife. But I assume that the two of them, when they did interact, got along the same way Eliza and I do– and that would make it safe to assume Eliza picked up her bitchy words, malicious intentions and passive-aggressive, condescending demeanor from her mother. The family bitchiness is hereditary.

Passive-aggressiveness is definitely a running trait in my family. I see it to an extent on my dad’s side– his brothers and him bicker endlessly, and they seem to show some slight disapproval for his opposing political stance, as if world views are trivial dinner conversation. But it pales in comparison to the Rheider family’s guilt. Aside from me, and my mother, I see it in the rest of the family.

My aunt Jodi, mother of two, is another disgusting person. Like Jenny McCarthy, she refused to vaccinate her kids because she believed it would make them autistic. Her son, Connor, has caught the flu every single year since he was six. The three (including her daughter Jenna) currently reside together at a nudist resort, where the kids were homeschooled… because they lack their immunizations. But that’s kind of besides the point– any time Jodi decides to dress up and sneak out into the world of normalcy, she misses no opportunity to make slick comments that everyone else in the family is living incorrectly. Thankfully, everyone else has mastered the art of clapback.

Eliza’s brother, Luke, and his wife, Charli (a full 16 years younger than him) are an obnoxiously pretentious couple who are all too proud of their FormDecor relationship and all too ashamed of everyone else’s. Luke has a son, Bastien, who he had with his first wife, that’s only 6 years younger than Charli. However, Bastien’s one of the few people on my mother’s side of the family that I actually enjoy. We share similar morals, and gratefulness for what we’ve been given, and spend every single family function together ripping the family apart. It’s a shame they never hear us.

Even the family elders have the same disapproving, condescending disdain for everything that my mom displays. But they’re far too silent around me to reveal anything noteworthy. The most words I’ve ever heard from my great grandmother Dorothy Cross (my mother’s mother’s mother), was scolding Jodi for her nudist colony being racially integrated, so it’s safe to say not much good was going to come from that generation. Fortunately, most of them are dead– Dorothy passed in 2011 (though her husband is still living off of a diamond-encrusted life support machine), and Eliza’s father’s parent’s are both long gone. Three out of Andrew’s four parents are deceased, his mother’s mother Clarissa Pullock (or something like that) is still alive, though I’ve never met her and probably never will– our first interaction will probably be at her funeral where I’m forced to pretend to mourn.

While Eliza’s family is dominated by a vile matriarchy, Andrew’s family has been dominated by powerful men with miniature dicks who made the Blackwood name known very much for investment banking until bank holding companies began to reign supreme, after which the family figured they would be better off in electoral politics. Andrew’s grandfather, Adam Blackwood, worked up a networth of slightly over $1 billion, and while his successors haven’t exactly been slacking, I don’t think any of them are ever going to do as well as him (but at the end of the day, if Andrew decided to have a bonfire using $100 bills as kindling, we’d recover before the fire even went out). Adam had two sons– Matthew and Bernard, and both received their jobs at Wall Street after him in a clear sign of nepotism. Bernard married a real estate agent named Elaine or Elle or something like that and had a million kids– most of which were boys. I don’t know much about them, and I don’t really care to. Matthew married some Janet something and had four kids– Paul (1965), Michael (1967), Andrew (1969), and Matthew Jr. (stillborn in 1970).

Unfortunately for this generation of men, who, unsurprisingly, continued the trend of nepotism and began work at the same place as their ancestors (save for Andrew who stayed in school, exploring his interests), none of them were able to produce any boys to continue the line. Paul was the first to reproduce– shooting out Kim and Lisa in 1987 and 1989, and as soon as the Kardashian sisters came around, they tried their hardest to be them but soon settled with just being their very close friends (and it’s safe to say I can’t stand any of them). Michael had Heather in 1990, and somehow, amidst a family of putrid, selfish monsters, she wound up a tasteful and snarky angel of hope. Like Bastien, we spend our family events together, an unholy trio of stylish black sheep.

And then finally, February 5, 1995, I came around. Eliza and Andrew had been married for about three years, and finally had me. Adam was still alive at the time and was praying for a great grandson– only to be disappointed for the fourth time. Almost as a sign of flippancy towards him, they named me Sam (well, Samantha, but I’ve grown accustomed to Sam and refuse to be called by my full first name unless I’m being charged with something). My mother made my middle name Elizabeth– because she hoped that I would follow in her footsteps. She once said naming me after her was “the biggest mistake” she ever made, which I don’t think is entirely unfair because taking after her is the last thing I ever want to do. And I’ve spent the last twenty-one years learning all of this.

People always say that blood is thicker than water, or whatever. That we’re supposed to stick with our families (over friends, or, well, anything). There’s been some mindset that family comes before all, that you honor your last name above anything and everything. I don’t believe that for one second. As if who happened to bang should determine everything about you. I despise almost all of that. And I won’t claim any of the ones that I don’t like for one second. I’ll take a tango any day. Fuck blood. And fuck the Blackwoods.

#sltask #sltask02

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 5 years ago

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Assassin’s Greed: The Story of Charles Guiteau

My favorite historical figure has got to be presidential assassin Charles Guiteau, a person you’ve likely never heard of. You probably know John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald, but Guiteau (pronounced get-oh) is not a household name. Where Booth and Oswald shot famous presidents, Guiteau shot James Garfield, who had served for only four months at the time and is best known for having been assassinated. Guiteau was cartoonishly twisted, with delusions of grandeur and a Type A god complex. He believed himself to be faultless, guiltless, a renaissance man, a master political advisor, and perhaps even the Third Coming of Christ (yes, third; you’ll see what I mean below). His life story sounds like something scripted to be as pathetic and conceited as possible, and it would be funny were it not so tragic.

So come with me on an adventure back to the gay old days of the 19th century, so we can delve into the mind of America’s least favorite assassin. Strap in, cause this is a long one.

Charles Julius Guiteau was born in 1841 to a family of French descent (you may have been able tell because he’s an -eau). Despite this, it is important to remember that he never learned to speak a word of French. Keep that in mind. He flunked out of school because he never felt the need to study for any exams. He was convinced he already had perfect knowledge on any given subject, “why fix what ain’t broken?”

In 1860, he joined a cult because his dad was friends with the leader. (Side note: this cult would later dissolve when a tornado destroyed their headquarters, transforming into a company that made spoons. This has nothing to do with the story, I just thought it was funny). This cult coined the phrase “free love,” which at the time just meant everyone was allowed, nay, encouraged, to bone everyone else; older women were ordered to act as “sexual mentors” for adolescent boys because they were the least likely to conceive. It was messed up. The cult also thought that Jesus had already come a second time, in 70 AD, so they had free reign on Earth to do whatever they wanted with no consequences. The end of days had come and gone, so it was smooth sailing from here on out.

Guiteau idolized the cult leader, believing him to be the perfect man in every way. The cult leader however believed Guiteau was unstable and unfit for the community. Do you know how messed up you have to be to get kicked out of a cult? People were so put off by his behavior that they gave him the nickname “Charles Get-Out,” and when he sued the leader for mistreatment his dad wrote a long apology letter saying “I’m sorry my son’s a weirdo, please don’t think less of me for it.”

He became a lawyer by sheer blind luck, barely passing his bar exam because he just so happened to work as a clerk at the Chicago law firm in question. He lost the one and only case he argued in court, and spent the rest of his career as a corrupt bill collector. He short-changed all of his clients, overcharging and under-refunding, pocketing the difference before skipping town to avoid the police. He did this often, hopping from town to town and leaving right before they could run him out on a rail.

In 1872 he endorsed Horace Greeley for president against incumbent Ulysses S. Grant; both men were Republicans, but Greeley caucused with the southern Democrats and became their nominee. He lost in a landslide, and died less than a month after the election, but again, that’s not important to the story. What is important is that Guiteau was convinced that had Greeley become president, he would have rewarded Guiteau’s endorsement with a federal appointment. Guiteau was just some schmuck, a nobody, but he believed that his approval was somehow the most important thing a candidate could receive, and that they would be undyingly grateful for it.

Guiteau believed that he was ordained by God to spread His word, and so concluded that his own word was therefore the word of God. He tried to start his own cult, plagiarizing the text from the cult leader he idolized, but it never got off the ground. In 1877 he was on a boat that collided with another; theirs sunk, but his made it back to port, so he was further convinced that his life had been spared for a higher purpose. If Christ had come again in 70 AD, Guiteau believed he had returned for the Third time this very day. At this point, his dad thought he was possessed by the devil.

You could say they didn’t exactly see eye to eye.

1880 comes along, he’s been embezzling and stealing even more money from even more cities, avoiding consequences all the while, and decides to once again throw his hat in the ring of politics. He endorses Grant for a third nonconsecutive term, despite having “campaigned” against him in 1872. Guitaeu changed his mind with Orwellian confidence, “oh, I always supported Grant, Greeley was destined to lose, I knew it and actually did my best to make sure his campaign floundered, I was always looking out for my main man Ulysses!”

Guiteau handed out leaflets and gave a speech endorsing Grant to basically no one; he may as well have just stood on a street corner shouting his opinion at passersby. Grant lost the nomination to one Congressman James Garfield, so Guiteau took the leaflets, crossed out Grant’s name, wrote in Garfield’s, and continued passing them out. The rest of the text remained the same though, so it made no sense, praising Garfield for leading the Union Army to victory during the Civil War, and saying he deserved a third term despite this being his first time running. Garfield won the presidency, and Guiteau was absolutely convinced that it was because of his leaflets. “What else could it have been?”

March 1881: Being wholly responsible for Garfield’s election, he starts writing him fan letters singing his own praise. “As you already know, I got you elected (you’re welcome, by the way). I did this out of the kindness of my heart, and all I ask in return, all I feel I deserve, is an ambassadorship. France will do nicely, I’ve always wanted to live in Paris!” As you remember, he can’t speak a word of French, “but I can learn on the job! I’m the best at learning things, but I’m sure you already know that about me. I look forward to our partnership. Your biggest fan, Charles.”

No word from the president, but Guiteau doesn’t worry. He just writes more letters. “Didn’t hear back from you, don’t know if you read my first letter, but just in case you didn’t, I’ll recap; you won because of me, I’m ready for my federal job whenever you are. Thanks and you’re welcome. Your smartest and most qualified fan, Charles.”

Still nothing. He moved to Washington, DC and became a homeless vagrant. He went from house to house, spending a night, eating the food, then leaving before rent was due; classic Guiteau! The White House kept ignoring his letters, so he decided to take matters into his own hands and personally confront the Secretary of State. “I’m sure you’ve read my correspondences, you know my qualifications, I am ready to go to Paris, just say the word.”

“Oh my God, we’re not giving you a federal job, stop writing us letters, leave the president alone, you’re a total nutjob.”

Guiteau was heartbroken. He couldn’t understand how Garfield could be such an ingrate! “I gave everything for that man, I sacrificed so much, and this is how he thanks me? I campaigned for him, I gave speeches, I handed out, like, so many leaflets!” He felt ignored, he felt BETRAYED. “How dare he? How DARE he?!? He owes me! He’s got to be the least considerate person on the planet! I put him office, I-” At this, he had a horrible realization. “Oh my God, I put him in office... He’s only there because of me... It’s all my fault! I gave this bastard the key to the White House... I gave him the nuclear codes!” [Guiteau was again misinformed, because nuclear weapons wouldn’t be invented for another 64 years] “I’ve created a monster! I put him there, and only I can take him out! I need to assassinate President Garfield.”

And so the pieces begin to fall into place.

He borrows money from his brother-in-law to buy a gun at a pawn shop. He believed God was telling him to kill the president; either that or he was telling God that the president needed to die and was just giving Him a heads up. At the pawnshop he specifically chose an expensive revolver with an ivory handle because he thought it would look better in the display case of the museum they would eventually build for him. He even managed to haggle down the price one whole dollar (about $26 today, so good on him, master deal maker).

July 2, 1881. President Garfield arrived at a train station in DC, and Guiteau is there waiting for him. He had no body guard because this was the 1880s, and nobody thought someone would be crazy enough to shoot the president in peacetime. The only government employee present with Garfield was the Secretary of War, a young man by the name of Robert Todd Lincoln. Yes, that Robert Todd Lincoln, son of Abraham, the first and so far only president to be assassinated. And he got to witness the second, firsthand.

Guiteau shot Garfield twice, but only wounded him; he fell to the ground, bleeding but very much alive. Despite this, Guiteau was confident the job was done. “Don’t worry everyone, you don’t need to panic, the tyrant is dead, you can thank me later.” The police ran at him, “officers, please, take the former president’s body away, it’s bleeding all over the train station. He’s as much a nuisance dead as he was alive, am I right? Wait, why do you have those batons?” The tackled him to the ground, as police are wont to do to people who shoot the president. “Okay, o-ho-ho-kay, I get it, you guys need to put on a show for the crowds. I understand, I shouldn’t have used a gun in public, I should’ve waited until I could had him alone, I get it, you don’t need to be so rough with me. Listen, just talk to President Arthur, he’ll have my back, I just put him in office, he’ll vouch for me, it’s cool.”

Garfield lived for two more months, wasting away in agony from infection because his doctors didn’t even think about washing their hands. They would poke around his bullet holes with their fingers to fish out fragments, poking organs, tearing muscle, just making it much worse than it needed to be. Garfield may have survived if they had just left him alone; years later, Teddy Roosevelt would be similarly shot, and survived with the bullet in his chest for seven years. Garfield died on September 19, 1881, at which point Guiteau was officially charged with murder.

Being a lawyer, he wanted to represent himself in court, but he was appointed a public defender instead. The defender quit after a week because Guiteau was impossible to work with, so his brother-in-law came on as his new lawyer; he wasn’t a criminal defense lawyer, just another bill collector like Guiteau, he was literally the only person willing to help him out for free. Guiteau claimed he was not guilty by reason of insanity, that God had possessed him, simply using his body as an avatar and smite Garfield. “It was divine intervention, nothing could be done to stop it, it was out of my hands.”

He made a mockery of the trial, cursing at everyone from the judge to the jury to his own lawyer to the crowd. He ignored his lawyer and started asking courtroom spectators for their advice, he wrote his testimony in the form of poems and delivered them to the captive audience. He reveled in being the center of attention, ignoring the fact that literally everyone hated him for killing the president. He expected a swift acquittal, and started planning his own campaign for president for 1884, “President Arthur owes me for putting him in office, so I’m sure he’ll step aside and let me run in his place, it’s the least he could do. Maybe I’ll choose him as my running mate, I haven’t decided yet.”

January 1882, he was found guilty and sentenced to death, to which he responded by calling the jury a bunch of “consummate jackasses” (and yes, that’s the real, actual quote, no joke). He was dragged out of the court, screaming obscenities at everyone within earshot. He wasn’t worried though, because he was convinced Arthur would pardon him.

In jail, he composed more poems singing his praise, “Ding dong, the witch is dead! Which old witch? The Garfield witch! Ding dong, the Garfield witch is dead!” Arthur didn’t pardon him, so he called him an even worse ingrate than Garfield; Guiteau tried to appeal his case so he could shoot Arthur too, but it was rejected for obvious reasons.

June 30, 1882, he is led to the gallows to be hanged. For his last words, he delivered yet another poem, this time an epic ballad about how he was now leaving this mortal coil to return to the kingdom of Heaven. Entitled “I am going to the Lordy,” it had a second or third grade reading level, with lines like “I wonder what I’ll do when I get to the Lordy?” and “I saved the party, glory Hallelujah.” He wanted to have a full orchestra come and give the piece musical accompaniment, but the jail told him no, again for obvious reasons. He didn’t even write music for it, he just thought it was so inspiring that the orchestra would know exactly what he intended and improvise something great.

He read the poem out loud to the crowd gathered to see him die, and was so overcome by how good it was that he broke down crying multiple times, “I’m such a genius!” He may or may not have done a little jig to go along with it, as you do when delivering the world’s greatest poem about the world’s greatest man.

Black hood, noose, trapdoor, neck snap, dead.

The jail refused to turn over his body to his family because they were too poor for a proper burial service (he had wasted all of their money on his defense). An autopsy showed that he was unable to retract his foreskin, so doctors theorized that was what drove him crazy enough to kill the president. Gotta love 19th century psychology; Freud has been largely discredited in 2019, but in 1882 he wasn’t even credited yet, he was just some random doctor, not famous for anything.

The warden sold pieces of Guiteau’s noose as souvenirs, and eventually disinterred the corpse to donate to a museum so people could pay money to see the man who shot the president. They cut out his brain to figure out what was wrong with him; one of its membranes was thicker than normal, possibly syphilitic, and modern medical professionals debate over which topical mental illness he likely had (some say schizophrenia, most agree that Narcissistic Personality Disorder had a huge part to play). They also spit-polished his skeleton and turned it into a dummy to hang up in the corner of a science class, but for some reason they hid it away in a storage room rather than giving it to a university as intended.

And so ends the story of Charles Julius Guiteau. He was a man without reason, without honor, without a lick of common sense or self-awareness. I feel bad for him because despite how horrible a person he was, he was clearly sick and needed help at a time when no such help existed. His life story is comical and tragic. He’ll never be as well known as John Wilkes Booth or Lee Harvey Oswald, and that’s probably for the best. A fitting end for a narcissist, to be mostly forgotten by history.

His gun isn’t even in a museum, the police eventually misplaced it. And I’m sure THAT is what he’d be most mad about today.

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kentremendousblog · 6 years ago

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I was deeply honored to stand at the White House July 9 with my wife, Ashley, and my daughters, Margaret and Liza, to accept President Trump’s nomination to succeed my former boss and mentor, Justice Anthony Kennedy, on the Supreme Court.

This is a long, bad, run-on sentence. Aren’t you supposed to be a good writer?

My mom, Martha—one of the first women to serve as a Maryland prosecutor and trial judge, and my inspiration to become a lawyer—sat in the audience with my dad, Ed.

Cool story. Can we talk about literally anything that’s important?

That night, I told the American people who I am and what I believe.

I remember! You said a bunch of boring stuff, that the Federalist Society and Don McGahn and whoever else coached you to say. It was very typical, and mostly empty, rhetoric. In its pleasant tone, it reminded me a lot of the things Merrick Garland said when he was in a similar situation in 2016.

I talked about my 28-year career as a lawyer, almost all of which has been in public service. I talked about my 12 years as a judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, often called the second most important court in the country, and my five years of service in the White House for President George W. Bush.

Fun side-note: literally millions of documents from your time in those jobs were buried, for no reason! Or rather, for the reason of: fuck you, nobody gets to see them, just cuz.

I talked about my long record of advancing and promoting women, including as a judge—a majority of my 48 law clerks have been women—and as a longtime coach of girls’ basketball teams.

Yeah...listen: a lot of people who are racist like to talk about their black friends. A lot of people who are misogynists like to talk about the women they’ve helped. A lot of people who do a lot of bad shit like to talk about the good shit they’ve done instead. Roy Moore’s wife, at a rally, once proudly announced that her husband couldn’t hate women because he made her the President of something or other, and also he couldn’t be a bigot like people were saying, because one of her attorneys was a Jew. So. Just, like, FYI, this isn’t a good defense of anything.

As I explained that night, a good judge must be an umpire—a neutral and impartial arbiter who favors no political party, litigant or policy.

Oh yeah! You did. I forgot about that, because much more recently you did a bunch of insane crazy stuff!

As Justice Kennedy has stated, judges do not make decisions to reach a preferred result. Judges make decisions because the law and the Constitution compel the result. Over the past 12 years, I have ruled sometimes for the prosecution and sometimes for criminal defendants, sometimes for workers and sometimes for businesses, sometimes for environmentalists and sometimes for coal miners. In each case, I have followed the law. I do not decide cases based on personal or policy preferences. I am not a pro-plaintiff or pro-defendant judge. I am not a pro-prosecution or pro-defense judge. I am a pro-law judge.

First of all, saying you’re a “pro-law judge” is like saying you’re a “pro-hitting-tennis-balls tennis player.” The law is literally the thing you are there to engage with. How can you not be a “pro-law judge?” Second: what you really are is conservative. You’re the most reliably conservative judge on the D.C. Circuit. You rule on the politically conservative side of the issue essentially constantly. That’s why you were standing in the Rose Garden, giving that speech -- because you’re a judicial partisan hack.

As Justice Kennedy showed us, a judge must be independent, not swayed by public pressure. Our independent judiciary is the crown jewel of our constitutional republic. The Supreme Court is the last line of defense for the separation of powers, and for the rights and liberties guaranteed by the Constitution.

Blargdy blargdy blargdy can we get to the part where you started screaming about lifting weights in high school?

The Supreme Court must never be viewed as a partisan institution. The justices do not sit on opposite sides of an aisle. They do not caucus in separate rooms. As I have said repeatedly, if confirmed to the court, I would be part of a team of nine, committed to deciding cases according to the Constitution and laws of the United States. I would always strive to be a team player.

“And the evidence for this is that I have literally never done it in my entire life!”

During the confirmation process, I met with 65 senators and explained my approach to the law. I participated in more than 30 hours of hearings before the Senate Judiciary Committee, and I submitted written answers to nearly 1,300 additional questions. I was grateful for the opportunity. After all those meetings and after my initial hearing concluded, I was subjected to wrongful and sometimes vicious allegations. My time in high school and college, more than 30 years ago, has been ridiculously distorted. My wife and daughters have faced vile and violent threats.

Against that backdrop, I testified before the Judiciary Committee last Thursday to defend my family, my good name and my lifetime of public service.

Yeah...we remember, man. Because you were screaming. You ranted and raved and blustered. You said this whole thing was a smear campaign orchestrated by your political enemies. You straight-up lied about what various things mean, like “boof” and “Devil’s Triangle” and you also lied about how much you like beer. You essentially called a number of women -- women who have accused you of improper sexually aggressive conduct -- liars. You said this was all retribution for what you did to the Clintons. When Amy Klobuchar -- a sitting U.S. Senator -- asked you if you had ever blacked out while drinking, you snidely shot back, “Have you?!” as if the fucking U.S. Senate is not there to evaluate you, but vice-versa. You said “What goes around comes around,” meaning: “when I’m on the bench I’m gonna fuck up the Democrats just cuz.”

You know -- the kind of stuff a Supreme Court Justice is supposed to say.

My hearing testimony was forceful and passionate.

I’d say more like “scream-y and entitled and whiny and absurd and partisan and embarrassing and awful and terrifying to all non-rich-white dudes in the country.” But “forceful and passionate” works too, I suppose.

That is because I forcefully and passionately denied the allegation against me. At times, my testimony—both in my opening statement and in response to questions—reflected my overwhelming frustration at being wrongly accused, without corroboration, of horrible conduct completely contrary to my record and character.

It’s not, though, is it? It’s not contrary to your record. Your record is that you drank a ton, and behaved like an entitled dick, and what you were accused of, essentially, was drinking a ton and acting like an entitled dick.

My statement and answers also reflected my deep distress at the unfairness of how this allegation has been handled.

Huh. Dr. Ford’s answers reflected her deep distress at you having drunkenly pawed at her clothes and stifled her screams when she was fifteen years old. And she kept it together.

I was very emotional last Thursday, more so than I have ever been. I might have been too emotional at times. I know that my tone was sharp, and I said a few things I should not have said.

...I mean, yeah. You did.

I hope everyone can understand that I was there as a son, husband and dad. I testified with five people foremost in my mind: my mom, my dad, my wife, and most of all my daughters.

Your mom, dad, wife, and daughters made you froth at the mouth and scream that this was a conspiracy perpetrated by your political enemies to avenge your treatment of the Clintons?

Going forward, you can count on me to be the same kind of judge and person I have been for my entire 28-year legal career: hardworking, even-keeled, open-minded, independent and dedicated to the Constitution and the public good.

That’s not what you are, man. I know you can’t say this out loud, but we all know that’s not what you are.

As a judge, I have always treated colleagues and litigants with the utmost respect. I have been known for my courtesy on and off the bench. I have not changed. I will continue to be the same kind of judge I have been for the last 12 years. And I will continue to contribute to our country as a coach, volunteer, and teacher.

Oh okay good as long as you keep coaching basketball we’re cool.

Every day I will try to be the best husband, dad, and friend I can be. I will remain optimistic, on the sunrise side of the mountain. I will continue to see the day that is coming, not the day that is gone.

Stay away from florid language, man. You’re a middle-aged angry rich white D.C. prep school kid. Poesy doesn’t suit you.

I revere the Constitution. I believe that an independent and impartial judiciary is essential to our constitutional republic. If confirmed by the Senate to serve on the Supreme Court, I will keep an open mind in every case and always strive to preserve the Constitution of the United States and the American rule of law.

No you won’t, man. I know you can’t say this out loud, but we all know you won’t.

Judge Kavanaugh has been nominated as an associate justice of the U.S. Supreme Court.

Yeah, WSJ. I know. Believe me -- I know.

#WSJ #kavanaugh #editorials #fjm

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reading-writing-revolution · 6 years ago

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"Our ability to convert hope and inspiration into action and change must not be wasted or kept to a candidate or campaign lest it dissipate and be rendered unusable at the most challenging time in our country’s history...I feel responsible to you, to our country, to my kids and to my conscience to make sure that we continue to find a way to respond to the urgency that we still feel. It didn’t go away Tuesday night." Beto O'Rourke, Email update, 11/11/18

Full Text.

Jan,

Amy is watching Last of the Mohicans in the other room with the kids. We started it last night after Ulysses’ basketball game. Pizza, carrots, Mohicans and then early to bed.

This morning, before everyone got up, I went on a run with Artemis and then made breakfast. Scones, German pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some bread that Jim and Christine brought by last night with butter and jam on it. Some coffee from beans that a friend in Austin sent to us last week. It’s not Whataburger, but...

After breakfast, we went on a hike in the Franklins with friends and dogs. Glorious morning in El Paso, crisp and clear, you can see for miles at the top of Crazy Cat.

Listening to the war cries and shots firing from the TV speaker in the other room, I’m smiling because we are all together again. Doing something -- just hanging out, just being around, just being -- that I haven’t done in almost two years.

Been to all the kids’ games over the last few days, made dinners at home, seen some friends and got to be outside, on the mountain and down at the river with Artemis.

I can hear Amy yelling in the other room “Don’t watch this part! Don’t watch it!”

And Henry saying “I’m watching it!” and laughing.

Already miss the road. Miss our team and the volunteers we’d see in every city, every town. Miss the energy and smiles and joy that I found all over Texas. Miss the purpose, the goal. Miss being part of something so much bigger than me or my life. Organized for a common cause and end. We were all together, really together. Never felt anything like that.

While there is loss, I also feel intense gratitude, waves of it every day. How was I so lucky to be part of something so amazing?

I can close my eyes and see so many faces and smiles. Hear the laughing and the cheering. I can see us hopeful and connecting as we shook one another’s hand, looking at each other and nodding, knowing. All the stories that have been shared with me, all part of me. Every gift and kindness, every word of encouragement. Every bit of faith in what we had set ourselves to.

We were doing this for one another, doing this the right way, doing this for our country at what we all know to be a defining moment of truth.

The loss is bitter, and I don’t know that I’ve been able to fully understand it. I try not to ask what I could have done differently because I don’t know that there is an end to those questions or thoughts. There are a million different decisions I could have made, paths I could have taken, things I could have said or not said, said better or differently. I did my best, everyone did. For our democracy to work, for us to be able to continue to work together, it’s important to be at peace with the outcome.

But what remains is this: I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have had the chance to do this with you. To bring power and joy to politics. People instead of PACs. Communities instead of corporations. Polls and consultants left to the wind and hopefully to the past. To have the confidence to move with the courage of our convictions. To open our hearts to one another. To not allow our differences (of party, of geography, of race or anything else) to divide us. To not know how it would end but to know that we had to give it everything.

I don’t know how to fully make sense of what remains or to measure the impact we’ve had.

Certainly, we changed something in Texas and in our politics. At the very least our campaign reflected a change already underway in Texas that hadn’t yet been seen in statewide campaigns.

Future campaigns will be won, influenced by the one we built. Candidates will run who otherwise wouldn’t have. Some will take heart in knowing that you don’t have to accept PAC money, you don’t have to hire a pollster to know how you think or what you want to say. They will have seen in our campaign that there is real joy and power in being with people, all people. Republicans, Democrats, Independents. People who’ve never voted and never will. People who will vote for you, people who won’t. People who live in the forgotten neighborhoods of the biggest cities. People who live in small towns that no Senate candidate has been to in 70 years.

I am grateful that you gave me a chance to be part of this. I feel responsible to you, to our country, to my kids and to my conscience to make sure that we continue to find a way to respond to the urgency that we still feel. It didn’t go away Tuesday night. Our ability to convert hope and inspiration into action and change must not be wasted or kept to a candidate or campaign lest it dissipate and be rendered unusable at the most challenging time in our country’s history.

Just know that I want to be part of the best way forward for this country -- whatever way I can help in whatever form that takes. Know that I am honored to have run this campaign with you and that I want to continue to honor and be honest to what was powerful about it.

For the time being, I am going to focus on being a better dad to our kids who have not had much of one for the last 22 months.

Movie is over. Now going to Molly’s basketball game and then we’ll see what’s next.

Grateful to you for being a part of this, for giving me a chance to be a part of this.

See you down the road,

Beto

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caliamyourrightfulkingcalore · 6 years ago

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Untitled - a Marecal fic, Chapter 4

It’s here! I had to cut this chapter in half because it was just too long. But the moment we’ve all been waiting for is so, so close! Enjoy!

WAR STORM SPOILERS BELOW

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside my window. I don’t have to open my eyes to know I’ve slept in. Still, I lay on my bed for a couple more minutes relishing the aches in my bones as I stretch my already sore body.

I open my eyes and the sky from my window is the first to greet me. It takes a while for them to adjust. I’m not used to waking up to the blindingly, bright blue skies. I sit up, trying to find any hint of what time it is, but even Gisa is not in her bed.

I glance around the room and something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I look over to the brown nightstand separating our beds. There lay an off white envelope with my name stamped elegantly on it. I hesitate before I reach for the letter. No indication of who it may have come from. I turn it over and notice the wax seal used to enclose the envelope. Ruby red in color with only the letter “N” in bold, cursive lettering stamped on it. My mind tries to unravel who might’ve sent this, but I come up empty. For a long while, I sit on my bed undecided about opening the letter.

Of course I’ve gotten letters before. From Cameron back in New Town, from Ada in south Montfort overlooking the newbloods training program, from Kilorn when he goes for fishing trips, and countless ones from Davidson and Farley. But something about this letter sets me on edge and I find myself unreasonably nervous.

I put the letter down and walk over to our connecting bathroom. I decide taking a hot bath is more important. I am glad for the distraction. I reach over to turn on the faucet, the sound of running water already calming my nerves. I pick up one of Gisa’s many bath bombs, red and purple in color. It smells like musky lavender and vanilla with traces of fruitiness. I throw it in the tub and watch as the water turns into plum red with hints of violet. I take a deep breath as its scent fills the bathroom.

I force my muscles to relax under the soothing hot water. It is much easier than trying to quiet my brain. I close my eyes, evening my breaths as I try to sway my mind away from the letter awaiting my return.

I don’t succeed.

I quickly drain the tub of its water and finish washing up. Careful to stand, I grab my towel from the rack holding it.

I walk towards the sink. My things scattered along the counter. Such a contrast to the neat and orderly of Gisa’s side. I make a mental note to organize my side later.

Wiping the haze from the mirror, I stare at my reflection. The difference a sufficient amount of sleep and food makes is astounding. My cheeks are fuller. My skin beginning to tan into a golden brown. My hair longer, still with hints of faded purple covering its lower half. And my eyes, the most drastic of all. No longer haunted by the hollows of war and terror.

The memories remain though. No matter how hard I try to keep it away, it always finds a way to emerge. This is what war does to people, I tell myself. It happened to dad, my brothers, Farley, Cal. I guess I’ll just have to keep finding ways to tolerate it.

“It never gets easier,” I hear Cal’s voice in mind, however faint it may be. Still, it comforts me. He warned me of the implications war brings, tried to protect me from it. But I remained loyal to my cause, no matter the cost. I learned to fight. To survive. And if anything, I am glad for that.

I begin to braid my hair as my mind fights off the lingering memories of my past. I focus on the purple of my hair. A constant reminder of who I am. What I am capable of. Both a gift and a curse. A comfort and a fright.

I make my way back to our bedchamber. Back to the piece of parchment sitting on my bed. I tell myself there’s nothing to be afraid of. It is just a letter after all. And after minutes of contemplation, I finally open the envelope.

I am met with achingly familiar cursive, words so delicately written. My heart quickens and I am suddenly so aware of its every beat, it’s almost unbearable.

I am afraid to touch it.

But my fingertips brush over the words knowing it’s his.

Mare,

When I envisioned my first words to you in almost a year, this was not it. And quite frankly, I am still very much contemplating sending this. But I’ve ran out of excuses after today.

Norta is officially announcing its democratic innovations in the upcoming weeks and it’s meant to be a celebration of sorts. To display unity, commitment, and promise.

I am lost in all this. More than I care to admit. But you are the answer to all my questions, the reasoning behind my judgment. You continue to change my being from a thousand miles away. It is times like these that I ache for your presence.

I would be grateful for your company.

Yours faithfully, Cal

P.S.: The mountains of Montfort suit you. You look wonderful.

I can’t hear myself think over the thunderous beat of my heart. Treacherous thing, I think to myself as it refuses to ease.

I read the letter once again, and then thrice more until I’ve memorized every word in it. The latter part of it sending my stomach fluttering in the way only he can. My cheeks are fuming red; I can tell by the way they feel. They also start to ache, because I’m smiling like I’ve never smiled before.

Yours faithfully. I shiver at the implication but I don’t let myself hope. I haven’t heard from him in nearly a year. Who knows what else has changed.

Lost in his words, I almost forget the second letter beneath his. A formal invitation to Norta. Instead of the Burning Crown adorning its letterhead, it is the “N” that stands out, similar to the one on the wax seal. N for Norta. A small change, albeit an important one. A statement.

I had decided last night that I would go back. But I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Of course I’m not obligated to say yes. But half of me has a hard time believing this is all a coincidence.

I sit on the edge of my bed for much longer than I anticipated. Gisa walks in with rolls of fabric in her hands. She stops short when she sees me. I can see her wondering eyes, but my sister doesn’t ask any questions. She simply nods my way, letting me know she’s there to listen if I want to speak.

“What time is it?” I ask her to break the silence.

“An hour past noon” she replies as she makes her way to her bed.

“You let me sleep for that long?”

“No one wanted to wake you” my sister explains, “you’re always up before dawn, we figured you were tired if you didn’t wake up on time.”

My family, ever so considerate. I let the last of her sentence hang in the air before I whisper so softly Gisa barely hears. “I’m going back to Norta”.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you were going somewhere” she asks, her brows beginning to furrow as she tries to understand what I said.

“To Norta” I say, louder this time. It makes it more real when I say it aloud.

I expected my sister to be surprised, a little angry even but she just stares at me knowingly. My sister was always mature for her age, but I can’t help but think something else makes her understand – someone else rather.

“I’m not going to stop you if that’s what you’re thinking” Gisa says. She can read me like an open book. “It’s something you need to do, Mare. I’m actually glad you’re coming to terms with it.”

“You are?” I ask.

“Yes. Maybe then you’d stop moping over him” she teases.

My jaw drops in shock, but I start to laugh “I do not” I yell back at her.

“You do” she smiles, the corners of her eyes beginning to wrinkle.

“You’re old enough to make your own decisions. Just be careful,” she says more seriously this time.

“Will you come with me?” I ask walking towards her. “You can even bring what’s-her-name” I give her a nudge.

She laughs noisily this time “her name is none of your business, and I would’ve said yes even without her company” my sister says. “I’ve been wanting to go back home for a while now.”

Home. My mind lingers on the word.

But isn’t this her home? I think to myself.

Then I remember someone once told me that home is not a place, but a feeling. Of belonging, of security, of unconditional love. I wonder, is there still a home for me in Norta?

Marecal reunion coming up y’all. I apologize if it takes longer than usual. I want the moment to be perfect so I’m being really meticulous with it. Let me know your thoughts!

#marecal #mare barrow #cal calore #tiberias calore #red queen #red queen fandom #red queen fanfic #war storm #war storm spoilers #MARECAL IS THE OTP #mare x cal #my babiessss

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jalondna · 6 years ago

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Grateful by Beto O’Rourke

Amy is watching Last of the Mohicans in the other room with the kids. We started it last night after Ulysses’ basketball game. Pizza, carrots, Mohicans and then early to bed.

After breakfast, we went on a hike in the Franklins with friends and dogs. Glorious morning in El Paso, crisp and clear, you can see for miles at the top of Crazy Cat.

Been to all the kids’ games over the last few days, made dinners at home, seen some friends and got to be outside, on the mountain and down at the river with Artemis.

I can hear Amy yelling in the other room “Don’t watch this part! Don’t watch it!”

And Henry saying “I’m watching it!” and laughing.

While there is loss, I also feel intense gratitude, waves of it every day. How was I so lucky to be part of something so amazing?

We were doing this for one another, doing this the right way, doing this for our country at what we all know to be a defining moment of truth.

I don’t know how to fully make sense of what remains or to measure the impact we’ve had.

Certainly, we changed something in Texas and in our politics. At the very least our campaign reflected a change already underway in Texas that hadn’t yet been seen in statewide campaigns.

For the time being, I am going to focus on being a better dad to our kids who have not had much of one for the last 22 months.

Movie is over. Now going to Molly’s basketball game and then we’ll see what’s next.

Grateful to you for being a part of this, for giving me a chance to be a part of this.

See you down the road,

Beto

#beto o'rourke #betofortexas #Beto2020

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florrickandassociates · 7 years ago

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TGF Thoughts: 2x07-- Day 450

Recap under the cut!

Big things, of the secret variety, are happening at LG. The conference room’s walls are covered; NDAs are laid out on the table. There is also one big, comfy looking chair in the conference room, looking out of place amid all the standard office chairs.

Lucca’s the first to ask what’s going on. Marissa isn’t sure—it’s top secret; all she knows is that the partners’ schedules have all been cleared.

“Have you seen this?” Marissa changes the subject. “Chicago lawyer playing cards.” “What?” Lucca asks. “Most wanted playing cards. They already have the four dead lawyers,” Marissa explains. The website peddling these cards? Is in Comic Sans. Thank you, whoever made that choice. I’m guessing you did it intentionally and I appreciate it. It’s an alt-right website, Marissa says. “What are you doing looking at an alt-right website?” Maia asks. “I look at everything,” Marissa states. I don’t think it’s that weird! Weren’t they just on a case about belonging to radical groups online?

Lucca wants to know if any of the RBL lawyers are in there. Marissa says she’s going to order a deck and find out. Maia’s appalled at the thought of giving this group money (tbh I am too).

Maia asks what’s going on in the conference room, and Marissa shrugs and says, “The ways of the partners are mysterious to us mere mortals.” Have I mentioned that I love it when we can see the power structures at work? Because I do.

Marissa tries to get information out of Diane—even how long the meeting will last—but Diane doesn’t say anything.

Luckily for us, we’re viewers and not employees, so we get to know what’s happening. It’s an audition for the DNC’s business, conducted by Ruth Eastman. I didn’t expect to see Ruth back on the show, ever, after how badly the writers botched her season seven arc (so much promise squandered!) But here she is. And she’s used much more effectively in this episode.

While I’m thinking of it, the promo for this episode was in Russian, but nothing in the COTW (aside from a few mentions of collusion) is about Russia. So… was the entire promo a shout-out to the TGW/F/The Americans fans? It wouldn’t be the first time. And I’ll take it.

“We’re in a very peculiar time,” Ruth says. Diane laughs, because a good 25% of Diane’s dialogue these days is just laughter. Ruth isn’t bothered: she says laughing is the “only sane reaction these days.” Diane agrees wholeheartedly. “We’re living in a time of farce, not tragedy,” the writers have Ruth explain. (I phrase it like that because, come on, that’s exactly the point of this season’s tone.)

Ruth is there with an interesting opportunity: the DNC wants a plan to impeach 45 ready to go if a blue wave happens in November, and so they’re auditioning law firms to decide which arguments (and which lawyers) will be the most effective. For now, this all has to stay hush hush, lest voters get the idea that a vote for a Democrat is a vote for impeachment and get scared off.

After some build up, Ruth turns to write on a white board. The marker doesn’t work. “New!” she says, pleasantly, discarding it. She starts the build up again: “This is the question we want you to ponder and answer…” But the next marker doesn’t work either. “WELL, SHIT!” she says angrily, throwing the marker to the floor. This is the best thing Ruth has done on this show.

Carine, a woman on Ruth’s team, volunteers to get more markers. Ruth keeps going with her spiel.

Carine grabs the nearest employee, who happens to be Maia, and asks where the black markers are. They flirt/banter on their way to the supply closet, and Carine thinks Maia looks familiar. Maia deflects the question and shows Carine the markers (they only have pink and purple, because it’s funnier that way).

“Seriously, I know you from somewhere. Where?” Carine insists. Maia thinks for a minute. “Okay, so you know how we just had a little exchange back there and I made you smile, you made me smile?” “Yes, I remember.” “Well, remember that when I tell you who I am,” Maia says. I wonder how many times she’s used (or will use) that line.

“Are you a serial killer?” Carine jokes. “Oh, close. Maia Rindell,” Maia introduces herself. Hee.

Carine recognizes that name. Maia walks away to avoid prolonging the awkwardness, but Carine isn’t as put off as Maia assumes…

Meanwhile, Lucca is working on a case about a film shoot when she notices Francesca walking down the stairs. She excuses herself from a meeting, and her client assumes it’s because she has to pee. His pregnant wife always has to pee, so he feels it is his place to inquire about Lucca’s bathroom habits. No matter how many times Lucca says she doesn’t have to go to the bathroom, the client won’t believe her.

Maia greets Francesca. Lawyer, professional greeter, same diff.

Francesca has brought Lucca a present, and Lucca asks Maia to go deal with her client (“and tell him I’m not going to the bathroom”). I have a question! If Lucca could spot Francesca from the room she and the client were sitting in, can’t the client see that Lucca is by the stairs and not, in fact, in the bathroom? ANYWAY. Maia’s job in this episode consists of knowing where markers are kept, greeting visitors, and informing Lucca’s clients she’s not in the bathroom. Is… there no work for Maia to do? Should I be concerned about RBK’s future? Are they overstaffed?! WHY DOESN’T MAIA DO WORK?

“Very nice meeting you. I think your dad stole some of my husband’s money,” Francesca tells Maia. Ok, People Recognizing Maia is my new favorite running gag. “Sorry,” Maia apologizes. “That’s a good thing. He’s an asshole,” Francesca says, emphasizing asshole. She’s so fun.

In Lucca’s office, Francesca tells her that she’s given up drinking, except wine. Well. That’s… something, I guess?

Francesca’s gift is a stuffed dog that sings “If You’re Happy and You Know It” and claps its hands and waves its ears. It is adorable and grating. “For my grandchild,” Francesca says, touching Lucca’s stomach. Why do people just go and touch pregnant women’s stomachs without asking if they can? I have never understood this.

Over the course of this whole scene, the dog’s flapping ears are visible, at least in part. It is wonderful and distracting and the only thing that could make it more Good is if they were in an elevator.

Even rewatching this scene, with captions on, I cannot see anything other than the dog and its ears. I think Francesca is saying she wants to be in the baby’s life and Lucca’s saying she doesn’t want Francesca involved. But I don’t know. Because ears.

After Francesca leaves, Lucca immediately moves to discard the dog. Francesca doubles back and almost catches Lucca in the act, but the second she turns around again, Lucca shoves the dog in a drawer.

“People understand emoluments,” Adrian is saying when we return to the conference room. They do? By that name? ‘Cause I just had to spell-check that word (even though I know what it means). I’m joking, because I think what Adrian means is that people understand the idea behind it. Still, a weird sentence.

Julius is opposed to the whole idea. He thinks the Dems are starting with the goal and working backwards. Some other partner wants to go after collusion. And Diane wants to go for obstruction, because of the precedents. (And the fact that there are so many paths that could make a good case is why I disagree with Julius. Maybe they’re starting with the goal, but how much does that matter if there are many valid reasons for having that goal? But then, I guess Julius would take issue with my use of “valid”…)

Adrian is against what Andre (the other partner) wants to pursue: collusion. He thinks it has too many Russian names for the public to understand it. Adrian’s whole strategy here is to find the argument that will be the easiest to sell.

Diane is so fired up about this, and I love it. (I also think she’s making the best case.)

“He’s not above the law!!” Diane exclaims. Nobody’s above the law! (Sing it with me!)

Julius won’t quit with these silly arguments. Now he’s comparing Republicans wanting to impeach Obama to what’s going on here. I don’t think it’s just my political bias speaking when I say that’s ABSURD.

Julius’s whole thing is that 45 was voted into office so he shouldn’t be impeached and then removed from office. So… Julius is anti-the concept of impeachment? I think his argument is a little more nuanced than that and he’s making the better case: that impeachment isn’t a tool for political parties that didn’t get their way. I’ll spare y’all my half-informed political rants and instead make this point: I appreciate that even Julius’s points have some validity to them. Too often, this show simplifies these arguments or handles them poorly, and this episode… does a pretty good job.

Ruth steps out for a minute, and reminds RBL of their mission: to choose a strategy, something that will stick the way emails stuck to HRC. (Don’t remind me!! Those goddamn emails.)

With Ruth out of the room, Adrian tries to get Julius to stop losing them a client. Julius says he’ll play devil’s advocate. Then Adrian tries to get Liz to speak up. She’s been watching and taking everything in.

Ruth takes a call about “Barnsdale. Illinois 1st.” She asks Lucca if she can use some random office, and commandeers it before Lucca can respond. She picked a bad office to have a private conversation in, though, because it’s one of the ones with the angled glass walls. These offices—which I’ve been wondering about for WEEKS because they don’t seem the slightest bit private—have gaps in the windows and it seems like (and turns out to be the case that) someone in the hallway would be able to hear every word said inside of the office.

And it just so happens that Lucca overhears the exact conversation she needs to overhear: a Congressman up for reelection is being asked—well, more like told—by the DNC that he can’t run again because he’s a groper. Lucca recognizes what this means: it’s the district Colin was thinking of running in.

So Lucca does what all Good characters would do: distracts Colin at work with her presence until he forgets what he’s talking about, then walks away.

Colin’s first thought is that something happened with the genetic screening. Lucca says it’s not that; it’s about his mother. “I didn’t want to run; my parents wanted me to run,” Colin says when Lucca asks him about the Illinois 1st. “Oh, so you’re not running?” Lucca counters. And Colin? Can’t answer that definitively.

Colin says he won’t run if he has to campaign, but if all he has to do is get the support of the DNC, he’ll run. Uh huh.

Lucca’s fear is that she’s being used for political gain. It’ll look better if she and Colin are together. Colin tries to keep Lucca out of it, even going so far as to say Lucca can tell his mother to “fuck off,” but… you don’t have to watch the rest of the episode to understand that’s never going to happen.

Then Colin asks about the genetic testing. Lucca says, “Oh, everything’s… good.” Colin mentions a family history. Does anyone else feel like she might be hiding something here? This is a weird scene. She’s already said the baby’s fine, yet they have her double back for this conversation AND they mention Colin’s family history? It would not shock me if Lucca was waiting on some test results and keeping it to herself. But also, like, I have seen this show and it would surprise me even less if we never heard about this again.

I may have to take back what I just said about Julius, sadly. Diane makes the more nuanced point I extrapolated from Julius’s words and Julius tries to rebut it. So. Whatever. It’s in early scene cross-talk (you know, the lines that aren’t meant to make a point but are rather meant to show you that there’s heated debate, so you can jump in mid-scene and it won’t feel awkward), and I’ve heard weirder things (like Alicia explaining why we don’t need female politicians in 220, a line I don’t think I was supposed to notice because I was supposed to be paying attention to her poise and the ease of her answers) in early scene cross-talk.

This audition doesn’t seem to be going well. That’s when Liz speaks up. She starts talking about some evidence that came across her desk at the DOJ. At first, I thought the writers were trying to introduce new facts into their hypothetical, and I was disappointed. But that’s not what they’re up to. Instead, they’re having Liz tell an increasingly elaborate, and possibly not baseless (would ANY of you be surprised if pieces of evidence similar to the ones Liz invents actually existed?) story to prove her point. Liz is demonstrating that the story keeps changing. “You’re all missing the point! It’s not about choosing one charge or another for impeachment. It’s about everything. It’s about who he is. It’s about what the presidency is. Charging him with obstruction, that’s going by the old rules. And the new rules are these. ‘I have a tape.’ ‘Where’s the tape?’ ’15-year-old was raped, and I’ve got the evidence.’ ‘Where’s the evidence?’ ‘Same place as the tape.’”

Diane laughs. “My God, this is insane!” Julius replies.

“No, no no no. This is shameless,” Liz clarifies. “And impeachment has to be shameless, or else it’s gonna fail.”

“So. You lie,” Julius accuses.

“No, no no no no no. You just don’t back down,” Liz says. “But there is no tape!!” Julius says. “Uh-uh. That’s what you said. I didn’t say that,” Liz argues. God, that’s what reading the news today feels like. Like logic and facts are no longer persuasive.

“Listen. This isn’t about truth anymore. And it’s not about lying. It’s about who’s backtracking, and who’s attacking,” Liz concludes. I don’t know what to think, and I love that. Liz’s approach is outlandish. It’s also convincing. And it’s maddening. These things should be based on facts. And yet!

I love that I can agree with Liz and think her point is absurd/laughable at the same time. I love that the show is able to capture the way that laughable and strategic can be the same today. It’s super effective.

When Ruth leaves for the day, Adrian immediately begins talking down to Liz in front of all of the partners. “Liz. Liz, Liz, Liz, what the fuck are you doing?!” I do not like this side of Adrian, especially when Liz is (obviously) being strategic and novel.

And also effective! Ruth tells her colleagues at the DNC that “we might have something here.”

Aaaand, credits. Another female writer this week! She wrote an ep last season too. And she’s great: I spent 17 minutes convinced the Kings had written this one because she captured the tone and the big moments so well. Also, I just googled her (her name’s Tegan Shohet) and she has a really fucking impressive resume. She did her undergrad at Harvard, has a law degree from Yale, and she has another degree from Oxford.

Maia and Amy (hello, Amy!) are kissing at a bar after the credits end. They’re out on a double date with Marissa and Drew, the guy from the ricin scare. Drew has this look in his eyes like he’s on something. I don’t like it one bit.

He and Marissa start making out mid-conversation. It’s almost aggressive, and not like Amy and Maia’s kiss just moments ago. Part of that is, I think, that we’re supposed to see Amy and Maia as a bit passionless right now, but it also seems… weird. Something is up with this dude. I don’t trust him.

But I would rather watch him and Marissa making out than hear Amy and Maia state “facts” that screw up the timeline!!!!!!!!!!! LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU WITH YOUR “WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR FOUR YEARS” BUSINESS WHEN I LITERALLY WATCHED YOU MEET AT MAIA’S 18TH BIRTHDAY PARTY; I’M BUSY WATCHING THIS AWFUL DUDE STICK HIS TOUNGE IN MARISSA’S MOUTH.

Drew also has no filter. Oh, and then he gets up at hits someone, claiming they took an upskirt of Marissa. But before that happens…

Amy and Maia are talking about getting married! And we didn’t get to see how they smoothed things over after 2x02? What a shock…

(Well, also, I feel like this ep pretty strongly suggests they didn’t really work through that.)

Seriously though, what the hell is Drew doing? What is his deal?

Marissa, who believes someone took an upskirt photo of her, reacts to Drew’s actions as though he’s a hero. She rewards him with a kiss. That makes Maia smile, because… I don’t really know. It makes Amy roll her eyes. Can we have Amy as a regular and not Maia?

“We need to toast your news!” Marissa says, making plans for the second consecutive weeknight. “Our news?” Amy wonders. OOOOOF. That relationship cannot be in a good place.

Maia seems kind of… turned on? By Drew and Marissa.

Amy doesn’t believe that the dude in the bar was actually trying to take an upskirt. Amy thinks Drew just wanted to hit someone. I agree with Amy here.

Amy then asks if they have to see them again. Maia says that Marissa’s a friend.

Amy tells Maia to talk to Marissa because people like Drew can be “dangerous in a relationship.” I had that same thought just from the way he was kissing her in public (it seemed quite possessive). And you know what I don’t need? For another investigator on this show to end up in an abusive relationship.

(That said, this is MILES better than any Kalinda/Nick bullshit.)

Now cameras are being installed in the conference room.

Marissa clearly stayed out for several more hours after Maia and Amy headed home. She’s wearing sunglasses at her desk and can barely answer questions. That’s also a big warning sign. Marissa’s hungover at work. It’s not a pattern yet, but I’d hate to see it become one.

Lucca meets with some partners about her client, Lock. She wants to give them a heads-up, but it seems he’s already left the firm because of Lucca’s pregnancy. Well, he said her “mood swings,” but lol.

Even Liz, who’s very understanding, is inclined to believe the client. Every time Lucca tries to defend herself, someone tries to comfort her or calm her or tells her not to get upset. I love Cush’s delivery of the line, “I’m not getting upset…” because she says it with just a hint of confusion. She doesn’t sound upset (at least not unreasonably so). She sounds like someone who’s slowly realizing that no one will take her words seriously as long as she’s pregnant.

Every time Lucca tries to take action, the partners shut her down and offer to help. It’s just weird. I can’t speak to whether or not it’s realistic because I’ve never been pregnant, nor do I work at a law firm managed mostly by non-parents (or any sort of law firm, for that matter), but it feels like it’s realistic. It’s subtle and the partners are encouraging, but they are making assumptions about Lucca’s work performance and capabilities based on the fact she’s having a baby.

Ruth appears! RBL is now one of four! Naturally Adrian believes this is because of what he and Diane were saying, and not because of anything Liz said. He believes this so strongly he calls Liz aside to give her an order. “No more shit Liz, okay?” He says like she’s a child (a child with a potty-mouth, I guess). She calls him on it. “Adrian, when did you get the impression that you could order me around?” He denies it, and Liz goes STRAIGHT to talking about their marriage. The teacher who married his student for her ties in the legal world CONDESCENDED TO HER? I’m just shocked. (Lol no, this is how I have been picturing their marriage for a few weeks now.)

Adrian asks Liz again to get behind the obstruction charge (Diane’s idea) so they can seem united. She says she’ll consider it.

I wonder if the reason Adrian can’t see that Liz has a plan, and that her plan is working, is that he’s so used to underestimating her.

Adrian and even Julius get behind Diane’s plan. It’s so transparent that they’re trying to show they’re united. “Now, we may disagree, but we find consensus,” Adrian explains. LULZ.

As soon as Adrian says “consensus” and Julius echoes it, Diane announces she’s changed her mind and now sides with Liz. This surprises even Liz! Ooh, will we get more on the Diane/Liz tension?

“I’m tired of ‘when they go low, we go high.’ Fuck that! When they go low, we go lower. Impeachment isn’t just about the law. It’s about persuading people. And if it’s one thing that we’ve seen this past year, it’s that lies… persuade. Truth only takes you that far… and then you need lies.” Guys, I’m seriously terrified by how much I understand this. Even the fact that my first reaction upon hearing this was, “she has a point” and not, “what??? That’s a lie!” scares me. When TGW was airing, I wouldn’t have believed that Diane would ever say this. And I wouldn’t have believed that would be my reaction. But, then, I also wouldn’t have believed this country would elect Donald Trump. What I’m saying is that regardless of whether this is a good strategy or not, or if it’s morally sound, or hypocritical, the way that it’s not easy to dismiss or laugh at is… the point.

Julius calls this “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” “You’re just as bad as you’re accusing him of being,” he explains. ACCUSING? Come on, Julius. If you think the word “alleged” would need to be in a sentence that calls him a liar…

Anyway. Another thing I love about Diane’s speech is that it’s coming both from a character place AND a political place. The next part of her rant makes this point well: “I’m just done with being the adult in the room. I am done with being the compliant and sensible one. Standing stoically by while the other side picks my pockets, while the other side gerrymanders Democrats out of existence. A three million person majority and we lost the presidency. A Congress that keeps a Supreme Court justice from being seated because he was chosen by a Democratic president.”

(I am gonna keep going on this but LOL Julius what planet do you live on where that’s not what happened? FACTUALLY THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.)

Diane has always been the adult in the room. That’s a role she’s fantastic at playing, and she loves it. And now she’s tired of it?! That can’t just be because of Trump. That’s what someone who lost her best friend, lost her husband, lost her money, lost her clout, watched her candidate lose an election, and, finally, felt and still feels like there’s a target on her back would say. Why should she be the one to hold things together when everything else is falling apart? What’s the point of acting like the rules still apply?

Julius says some nonsense about how if Diane really believes that, she’s lost all faith in the law. To which Diane replies that she has a gun in her desk “and I’m this close to taking to the streets.” That, my friends, is someone who is all of the things I said above, and also on drugs, would say. And somehow, that person is… Diane Lockhart.

(And weirdly, while I can’t say it’s necessarily the direction I want to see the writers take Diane, I can’t honestly say it’s out of character. Terrifying, right?)

IT DID NOT CATCH MY ATTENTION THE FIRST TIME THROUGH BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT MAIA IS DOING AT WORK? CHECKING TWITTER. (I mean, I check Twitter at work. I’m sure most people check their phones at work. You could catch the most productive employee on Twitter at work. But somehow we have endless amounts of time to show Maia not working and no time to show Maia working.)

Carine is back, to tell Maia about her own father. He was a disgraced senator, so she’s part of the “damaged offspring club” too. Hey, where are Zach and Grace? Is Zach still in Paris (lol) with his wife (hahahaha) writing his memoir (bwahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaha)? How’s college treating Grace? ANYWAY. NOT THE POINT.

The point is that Carine and Maia are making a connection.

Also that in one scene, Maia manages to: Surf Twitter on her work laptop, flirt, and make plans to go drinking. Writers, come on. Throw me a bone. Give Maia work to do. (Two of these things are not her fault—Carine and Marissa come over to talk to her—but still!)

Marissa pops by to invite Maia to go out dancing at 10 pm on a work night. Maia turns it down initially, but then says maybe. What does she have to lose? She could show up hungover the next day and it wouldn’t matter. IT’S NOT LIKE SHE HAS ANY WORK TO DO!!!!!!

When Marissa leaves, she’s all “luv uuuuuu” (that is my approximation of the tone) and Maia quietly whispers back “love you.” Am I supposed to be getting the feeling that Maia’s crushing on Marissa? She also smiles a little after Marissa walks away.

“There’s a tweet I think you should see,” Maia informs Lucca. Lucca asks if it’s about work (of course it isn’t; that would require Maia to be working NO I WON’T STOP) and it’s about Colin’s campaign. Specifically, a horribly racist tweet about how he got a “black girl” pregnant (“hashtag Sally Hemmings”)

“So I’m a black girl. A black, pregnant, plantation girl,” Lucca responds. Maia is like “I don’t think it implies that” which, I mean, I buy Maia holding that opinion because it would mean she is super privileged, white, and didn’t pay attention in history class and you KNOW I would believe all of those things. But also, it’s a mean tweet that refers to Lucca as “a black girl.” Why would Maia even want to defend that?

Lucca’s TRENDING too. I wish Lucca would trend. Not for this. I mean publicity for the show.

Also trending is Earth Day. Wanna know something fun about Earth Day? It is in April. Specifically it’s April 22nd (which is a Sunday and the day of the next episode, but I will ignore that because it’s close enough and Earth Day could be trending in advance). Lucca is due in May. She is four months pregnant. WHAT MONTH IS IT, SHOW?

Maia accidentally kicks a drawer under Lucca’s desk and it begins to sing. “What is that?” she asks. “It’s a dog,” Lucca replies, as though that explains anything.

Lucca furiously begins to type—to Tweet! This is a bad idea. Has Twitter ever been a good idea on this show when it was controlled by anyone other than Eli or Marissa Gold? (No.)

Lucca (@lquinn) has fired off a reply tweet (“I’m the black woman having Colin Morello’s baby and my name is Lucca Quinn. Did Sally Hemmings have a law degree? #MoreLikeMichelle”) that is snarky and probably misguided, especially since it’s a trap laid by Colin’s campaign manager NotEli. (He isn’t getting a name.)

More bickering, verging on nervous breakdowns, are happening on the DNC live feed. The juiciest live feed since the NSA was listening to Alicia? Anyway.

“I’ve spend the last few months feeling fucking deranged! Like I’m living in some bad reality show! Going numb! All Trump, all the time! What’s real? What’s fake? Well, you know what? I just woke up,” Diane yells. And by yells, I mean yells. Damn.

Liz takes Ruth outside to try to get her to get Julius out of the audition. Liz always has some kind of plan.

Later, Adrian walks into Diane’s office, concerned. “I have never been more all right,” Diane says. U SURE? Did you just take a hit of something? Adrian asks how much of this is show and Diane is like, it’s a show!

Adrian wants to know about the gun in her desk. Yeah, I feel like that’s a valid concern, given that there is a GUN IN HIS WORKPLACE. Not only is that probably illegal but it’s also a hazard.

Marissa brings more bad news: the Chicago lawyer playing card deck, and we get to hear a few of the names in it. David Lee (IS ANYONE SURPRISED?). Patti Nyholm (Ditto). Laura Hellinger. WAIT WHAT? LAURA HELLINGER IS THE SWEETEST. (Can you tell I just rewatched season 4?) What is there to hate about Laura Hellinger!? Why bring her name, of all the names, into this?!

The partners decide to ignore it for now—why give it more attention?—but Adrian, Liz, and Diane are all in the deck. Damn.

Upon seeing her own face on a card, Diane says, “To answer your question, Adrian, yes, I have a gun in my desk.”

It’s at that moment Ruth interrupts to ask Julius not to join the RBL team for the remainder of the audition. Julius, after hearing he’s out, flips off the other partners. Professional. Though I can’t really criticize him, because it’s not like anyone else is being professional.

Maia tries to convince Amy to go to the dance club with her. Amy has a trial starting the next day and she doesn’t want to go, so it’s an impossible sell. Maia makes a bogus excuse: she thinks she should go so as not to be impolite. To Marissa. She sees. Marissa. Every. Day. She and Marissa are friends. It is not impolite to say no to going to a dance club at 10 pm on a work night with someone you went out with the night before. This is an excuse. Maia wants to go out; Amy doesn’t. So Maia’s looking for any reason she can find to go out.

Maia also misses a crucial detail—that Amy’s trial starts tomorrow so there’s no reason to wish her good luck now. This seemed weird the first time through, but then I realized: Maia and Amy live together. And that’s the kind of comment you make to someone you’re not going to see for a little while.

Lock wants Lucca to be his lawyer again. Lucca suspects that Maia might have called him (no that would involve Maia taking initiative so it’s unlikely). But no. The answer is that he’s on Twitter. And that’s when Lucca realizes that she has power.

She shows up at Colin’s door. “I’m not gonna marry you. I’m not gonna pretend otherwise. I’m not gonna lie, I’m not gonna mislead, and I’m not gonna be the woman who stands by your side. I’m the mother of your child, a close friend of yours, and a registered voter in the 1st Congressional District of Illinois. You want my support, you’re gonna agree to my terms,” she demands.

She goes on: she will do one appearance a month, issue a statement, and do interviews. Damn. Colin didn’t even have to negotiate for that.

Francesca is also at Colin’s house. So is NotEli, whose first words to Lucca are “Wow, that’s pregnant.” Off to a great start!

NotEli’s name is Stephen Rankin-Hall. I will continue to call him NotEli.

Now we get some exposition about the campaign. We’re actually doing this. The writers wrote Alicia out and found a way to bring campaigns back.

More deliberations in the conference room. The DNC is watching in real time, and they’re missing the fire of the deliberations with Julius. Using all the coded language in the world, Ruth requests that RBL show their “more pugnacious attitude.”

As soon as she leaves, the partners prove they got the message loud and clear. “They want us to be street,” Liz says, with a trace of anger. No one’s thrilled about it, but they’re all willing to play along. “I will be the angry black woman,” Liz decides. “And you can be Black Lives Matter,” she says to Adrian. (He chuckles.) “What about me?” Diane wonders. “You keep us calmed. But we can’t be calmed. But you’re the white conscience,” Liz says. LOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOLLOL.

And back to the conference room they go, playing their roles perfectly until they’re screaming at each other about how fantastic Ta-Nehisi Coates is. It’s hilarious. And it piggy-backs off of the point the show made last week: there are certain roles that even (especially) those who call themselves progressives expect people to play based on their race. Diane’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown and she gets to be the conscience because she’s a classy white lady. Liz and Adrian have been strategic throughout all of this and they’re understood when they play up their anger in a very specific, stereotypical way.

(I don’t know that this strategy actually works in the context of the show, since we know that Liz and only Liz is chosen, and I’m going to guess her initial idea helped her more than this show. Even still. The firm is flat out told by the DNC that they will do better when they fit into an easy, familiar (racist) narrative.)

Liz and Adrian sit together in his office after their performance. “I never know how far is too far,” Adrian says. “At least you’ve reached a point in your life where you can admit it,” Liz says. That’s pointed.

Just want to take a moment to say I’m very happy with the addition of Liz. She’s fascinating, Audra’s fantastic, and I can tell so much about Liz from even the tiniest moments. Also, usually characters who are as sneaky as she is towards the other regulars come off as villains. That’s not how Liz comes off, and she was literally introduced as Alicia’s biggest rival and reintroduced as someone who made a move against Diane.

Maia invites Lucca out dancing. She’s going to turn it down anyway, but then Colin, Francesca, and NotEli show up and she has a good excuse not to go.

NotEli and Francesca want Colin and Lucca to get their story straight. “Look, we’re not expecting you to be the good little wife or girlfriend. That’s the old playbook. It stopped working in 2016,” NotEli says. Oh for fuck’s sake. You can’t just add the word “little” in there and distract me from the fact you are talking about Alicia.

But this line reminds me of two things that I’ve been thinking about lately. The first is that the Good Wife narrative really isn’t timely anymore. It certainly was in 2008. It even was in 2011 when I started watching. But now? Who cares? A dude abuses his office, and now, I think, the media is more likely to wonder about what woman is going to run for his seat than about whether or not his wife will stand by his side. Well, either that happens or absolutely nothing happens and millions of people think it’s perfectly okay to have a president who makes comments about “grabbing women by the pussy.” Either way: it’s not the narrative that fascinates people (or the media) today. And if you’re not caught in the middle of a scandal? It’s even less essential. “Family values” haven’t totally disappeared from politics by any means, but this isn’t 2008.

The other thing this line reminds me of is that, well, I fucking miss Alicia Florrick. It may be accurate to say that “the good little wife” is the old playbook. It’s been on the way out for a while now, so it’s only semi-accurate to say it stopped working in 2016. It is, however, accurate to say that The Good Wife ended in 2016. I like the idea of revisiting these themes, in a very different world, with a very different character. What I don’t like as much is that every time I see Lucca get pulled into situations that very, very few people would understand, I can’t help but want her to call up her close friend who’s lived through it. There are very few other moments when I long for Alicia to be on this show. And I still don’t, really, want her to make a guest appearance. But I want Lucca to have a friend. I want Lucca to have that friendship. And I can’t believe that Lucca and Alicia had a falling out, off screen, big enough that Lucca wouldn’t have reached out to Alicia for advice. If they’re not going to give me Alicia, can they at least stop teasing me?

(“Good little wife”? TEASE.)

Anyway I love how blunt Lucca is. For some reason, NotEli believes Lucca and Colin will be asked where their child was conceived, and he also believes this is a question they should answer. Colin starts to answer, saying things got intense when they were on opposite sides. Lucca jumps in and bluntly says, “So we worked through all that tension by fucking in the courthouse restroom.”

NotEli and Francesca stare at her and Francesca laughs, thinking (hoping) Lucca’s joking. But she’s not done. “It was a family restroom, so we locked the door,” she adds. NotEli says maybe they’ll have to massage this a little. Or you could, like, not talk about where you fucked?

And then the toy dog starts to sing, because of course. (It’s less effective this time.)

Now we’re at the club with Marissa and Maia. Maia’s theme song is playing. Seriously, just read these lyrics: “I clock out my 9:00 to 5:00. I’m ready for the weekend to bring me back to life. Don’t live to work, I work to live.” See?! It’s Maia’s song! Working normal hours (in a profession notorious for requiring long hours) and viewing a job as a chore and not something she’s passionate about!

MAIA IS SO AWKWARD, BUT SHE IS ALSO SO COMMITTED TO ACTUALLY TRYING TO DANCE.

(As you might expect, Marissa is not at all awkward.)

Carine appears at the bar when Maia goes to get a drink! They start talking about their fathers until Maia’s like, “Do you really want to talk about this?” and Carine says no. And then Maia says she wants to dance, so they start dancing. And they get pretty into it.

A little later in the evening, Maia and Marissa talk at a table. Marissa has her arm around Maia. “Am I boring?” Maia asks. You want me to answer that, Maia? You are, and it’s not because you have a stable relationship. I actually find that interesting. ANYWAY. In the world of the show, Maia is worried she’s boring because she’s in a long-term relationship.

Marissa calls Maia a “fucking ninja.”

“I feel like I’m cheating,” Maia worries. “You’re dancing. Or do you mean with me? Because I’m ready for anything,” Marissa responds. Is Marissa saying she’s bi? Or is she joking? Or just drunk? I feel like we may see more on this front. But maybe not.

Oh my God. I have accidentally paused the screen on the most awful drunk!Maia face and I’m not going to post it because I’m not cruel.

“What do you want?” Marissa asks. “I don’t know. Sometimes I want stability. Sometimes I don’t,” Maia answers. Hmmm. Much as I would love to see Maia in a committed relationship, what I would love even more is an arc where Maia, whose life had been very stable up until the scandal, realize that actually, maybe she doesn’t need to follow the easiest, most stable path. Maybe she’d rather be single, or with someone else, at this stage in her life. Wanting stability is a very Alicia thing. It doesn’t have to be a Maia thing, too.

(Nope, I will not turn this into a backdoor way to talk about Alicia and her priorities. I am tempted, but I will resist the temptation.)

Marissa just asks Maia wants right now and Maia says, “That’s the question.” Marissa tells her to go dance, but Maia decides to leave instead.

Maia also tells Marissa that Drew is “great.” I am on Amy’s side here…

Carine finds Maia outside and starts to say goodbye when… Maia kisses her. In the middle of the street. Carine kisses her back. And then they get in an Uber together and make out. Nice, Maia.

I don’t have strong feelings on Maia cheating, mostly because I am not sure I consider her a cheater for this. This behavior—and the behavior we’ll get to in a minute—is cheating. But… she’s cheating on someone she’s had doubts about, someone she barely wants to spend time with, someone who testified against her in court (??), and someone we’ve barely gotten to know. That’s not to say that cheating is justified if that’s the case. It’s not. My point is that I don’t know what Maia’s going to do next. If what she does next involves keeping this from Amy and acting like everything is normal, then yes, she is a cheater and ughhhhhh, Maia. But if this is really the final straw/a wake-up call that causes her to either work through her issues with Amy (including actually telling her she cheated) or break up with her, then it feels like less of a betrayal to me. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Moving on. I am sure I will have more thoughts, hopefully clearer and more fully formed ones, once the next episode (that addresses this plotline) airs.

Carine gets called into work, where she falls on the ground because she is drunk. They have to leave, but she wants to stay a few more days!

Ruth tells the name partners the DNC’s decision: they’re hiring a team of lawyers from various firms, and they just want Liz. “Like the Avengers,” Diane observes. Yes, you read that right. Diane made that observation. Diane Lockhart.

Adrian calls Liz “Wonder Woman” and Ruth corrects him that “That’s the Justice League.” Hee. Look at Diane and Ruth, knowing their superheroes better than I do! (Though I actually understood both of those references.)

Will Liz actually take the offer? I’m unsure. I don’t want anything that means less Liz, so I’m hoping either she doesn’t take it or she does but it doesn’t reduce her screentime.

Ruth tells her assistant to turn off the DNC cameras. But he can’t, because Maia and Carine are busy having sex, on camera, in the office. You’re such a good employee, Maia.

Carine would know about the cameras, but I don’t think this is a set-up (I think she’s just drunk, though wouldn’t be shocked if it was a set-up). Maia wouldn’t know about the cameras, but for fuck’s sake, Maia, do you think you’re supposed to be having sex at the office? Oh, you know what? It’s Maia. She probably thinks that’s what offices are for.

(I so badly want to end my recap there, but also, this Trump impeachment Schoolhouse Rock style song is A++++++ and I’m not sure why it exists but I’m glad it does. It’s also by the same guy (Jonathan Coulson) who did all the BrainDead recap songs (if you did not watch BrainDead, you should) so I’m a very happy fan.)

(Omg, and the slow instrumental “If You’re Happy and You Know It” over the credits is great.)

#The Good Fight #TGFThoughts

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mina-van1104 · 4 years ago

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♡ 🎂🎉😍🤩Happy birthday to my talented, smart, beautiful, older sister, Catherine Van Schwartz who’s 31 years old today!! Ever since I was born, I've always looked up to her and was always my role model. My only blood-related sibling that I have. She’s an old lady now but I’m an old lady too just a YOUNGER OLD lady still in my twenties hahaha. 🤣

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You probably have seen her before on TV on KOLO 8 News Now almost everyday (for years in the past) so some of you may know or have seen her before. She's awesome and famous.

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Catherine worked at Portland, Oregon, KATU 2 News.Catherine also got nominated for an Emmy Award in Television Broadcast in Oregon for the Northwest in 2018. My only blood related sibling I have. 7 years as a News Reporter.

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Both of us Reno/Sparks, Nevada Natives & past University Graduates (from Gonzaga University❤️ & University of Nevada, Reno💙). My only blood related sibling I have.

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I love my hard-working, successful, beautiful, sweet family.🍀Seriously so lucky & grateful🙏🏼.😘 (Also I have a family member who’s a local doctor, another family member who’s a Dentist, another family member who’s a Dental Hygienist, acupuncturists (my dad former acupuncturist & younger cousin), & a family member who has her Doctorate of Physical Therapy.

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Success truly runs in the family. My only blood related sibling I have. Here's recent pics of my older sister and me when we were babies/kids. We so cute!😍💁🏻‍♀️💝😊 I’m Catherine’s proud little sister.

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*Nevada BORN & Raised & some of my big families living in Nevada for 42 (forty-two) years now with mixed family of Asians/ Caucasians with American Veterans🇺🇸, Doctors, News Reporter, Nurses in our- blood-related family & family in-laws, & mixed Asian/small portions of European Descents,etc., it’s not Democrats Versus Republicans & it’s not about which party winning, so do what’s right for ALL people & do not vote for Trump. * Please vote for Biden (A genuinely good person & very well-educated).

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Also ran 3 miles today with both my dogs, biked outdoors, and skateboarded! So much fun! Had a lot of energy this morning. happy Early Mother’s Day tomorrow! 💕

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# HappyBirthdayCatherine # May8th # BloodRelated # MyOlderSister # MyOnlySister # CattVan # CatherineVanKatu # Portland # FormerKolo8NewsNow # KatuNews # ShesFamous # RoleModel # BigSis # NativeNevadans # SparksNatives # NevadaBornAndRaised # HawaiiVacation # OregonVacation ♡☻ # NativeNevadan # Nurse # Coach 📸🐾🏃🏻‍♀️💪🏼 # NevadaBornAndRaised # HomeMeansNevada # Nevada # UNRnevadaAlumnaMay2016🎓 🐾 # NevadaAlumni # PostUniversityGraduate 🎓 # PostGonzagaUniversityGraduate # WolfPackAlumna 🐾 # BachelorsHealthSciences # PublicHealth # Nurse🐺 # 2CollegeDegrees # 2ExtraMedicalLicenses # AllAccomplished 👊🏼 # AlreadyAllAchieved #TrueAccomplishments # integrity # honesty # humble # kind ✌🏼 # RenoBornSparksNative

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artivista · 4 years ago

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Who am I?

My name is Kathryn Morrison, I’m 19 years old. From 2017 to 2019 I attended Junior College and studied French and English A-level, which I consider an immense part of my growth as a person both culturally and creatively. After my A-levels, I started studying for a degree at MCAST ICA in Creative Media Production, of which I am currently in my second year.

Those are who I am from an outside perspective, but I identify as an artist. My work spans multiple mediums, through film, writing, photography, graphic design and music. My work is bold, colourful and seeks discussion. I am a self-taught guitarist. My father was a guitarist himself, and taught me how to appreciate multiple genres of music, especially different sub-genres of metal (our favourites). I had always admired my favourite musicians and wanted to play guitar, only never had the opportunity. At 13, I decided that I did not want to wait any longer and borrowed my dad’s guitar. I fell in love, and practiced for many hours after school in my bedroom for days on end. I remember being in class in secondary school, and daydreaming about going home and picking up the guitar. I would learn off of YouTube, and if a song was too hard, I would simply play it very badly until I got it right.

This was not an easy task, but I never gave up, and I am eternally grateful that I persevered despite the difficulty of learning an instrument alone. What kept me inspired was gathering inspiration from musicians I love and picturing myself playing on stage one day, or making my own music. Over the years, my technique improved, and 6 years later in 2021, I can confidently say that I am able to improvise, learn by ear (a skill which I did not pick up until years later) and am continuously practicing and improving every day. I regularly post guitar videos on my Instagram to document my progress.

I am an activist and exercise my democratic right as a citizen. In an artistic sense, I am exploring activism (or, artivisim) through documentary work. Currently, I am directing and producing a documentary about the Maltese NGO ‘Young Progressive Beings’. I enjoy documentaries which explore people and ideas, such as the works of Agnès Varda, the first female French New Wave director who explored activism through her films. Before lockdown happened in March 2020, I made an unreleased 8-minute video essay with a colleague detailing her and her works for an exhibition, that was sadly never exhibited to the sudden impact of COVID-19. This was done thanks to the extensive collaboration, help and support from two lecturers of mine. Culturally, my previous works all have a form of philosophical and psychological background to them. My favourite work is “Stigma”, a short video dealing with the topic of androgyny and the public’s attitude towards this.

Another work of mine, created in quarantine, is titled “Am I enough?” is based off of the Sartrian concept of existentialism, referring to the notion that “existence precedes essence” and moreover that one can create meaning for themselves and apply this towards self-confidence and love. I enjoy creating projects that are strange but can offer depth through this strangeness, and I am to bring that to light with my Artivisti project.

#bio

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bendthetrendshop · 4 years ago

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I Am His Eyes He Is My Wings I Am His Voice He Is My Spirit I Am His Wife He Is My Guardian Angel Butterfly T-Shirt

The spread of this disease count of those briefly but the establishment of travel restrictions aggressive quarantine effort of Americans there returning declaration of public health emergency in establishing the White House Corona task force all reflective urgency that the president has brought to a I Am His Eyes He Is My Wings I Am His Voice He Is My Spirit I Am His Wife He Is My Guardian Angel Butterfly T-Shirt whole of government approach as a former governor from the state where the first mers case emerged in 2014 I know full well the importance of presidential leadership the importance of administration leadership and the vital role of partnerships estate and local governments and health authorities in responding to the potential threat of dangerous infectious diseases and I I look forward missed president to a serving in this role bringing together of all the members of the Corona task force that you’ve established HHS CDC DHS the department of transportation and state that this team has been at your direction as president meeting every day since it was established that my role will be to continue to bring that team. 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