#is my art becoming lazier and lazier with time? yes.

[oken-art]

happy summer 2024✌

[ellerevelle]

hello again

Its been an eternity. I had to login with my yahoo email. My YAHOO. email. 

I’ve been sitting in the same position, at my computer, slouched over watching netflix for hours now. Not accomplishing a damn thing except panic. I’ve been enjoying the program I’m watching but continually keep checking my phone. As one does. 

I check Instagram to look for that little red message notification indicating a new DM. Its not obsessive, but I do feel relieved to see someone is there. I’ve been alone in my room, day in day out, for what feels like months now. I go to work, I go out dancing occasionally, but all in all, I’m lazing in my bedroom. Its basically my studio apartment, despite living in a 4 bedroom rented house. 

I’m here to journal. Because my life needs an entire overhaul. I really wonder whats wrong with me. Today I examined a LinkedIn job listing for, upon reading the details, is like- THE job. THE DREAM JOB. And I have no qualifications. 

If I had even remotely TRIED. AT ALL. the last, oh I dont know, TEN YEARS OF MY LIFE to do anything actually photography work related, I’d be maybe closer to qualified. But despite talking like I’m an artist, despite going to goddamn art school, despite telling myself or others I meet “yea I’m a photographer,” ... it has to be what you DO. As a VERB. And my cameras literally, absolutely, are coated in dust. I havent handled them in over a year. Probably more. 

What is wrong with me. I read the job description, I even took a screenshot of the listing for when it goes down, because I want to dream about it. Study it. But it says at the top of the list “at least 5 years of experience.” My last five years? have been bullshit. I’ve just gotten fatter and lazier and probably less mentally healthy. I mean, I’m barfing my thoughts on Tumblr again, I’m probably not okay. I’m here feeling like I’ve squandered my fucking years, that my life needs a genuine total overhaul. I am not mentally healthy. 

Why. Am. I. Afraid. To. Move.

Not move away, but literally MOVE. Work out, create, explore my city, meet people, even pick up a new book. I’m afraid to move. 

I need to clean my car. Its gotten out of hand. She doesnt deserve it. I feel like everything I SING about loving, I’ve stopped living up to. I talk about going on road trips ALL THE TIME. I feel like by letting my car fall into terrible disarray, I’m betraying myself. If I were to try to take a road trip, I’d have to do so much work. SO much work. Its so cluttered, the trunk is full of old clothes and weird concert souvenirs and random tupperware and literal trash. I need to vacuum it, I need to dust it, I need to clean the glass. I need to empty the entire thing out. I am afraid to do the work. I am unmotivated to do the work. 

Want to know what I’m thinking about why:

I want someone to care. 

I feel like I dont exist anymore. Like... no ones asking my any questions, no ones noticing me out there doing anything, I dont feel witnessed, I dont matter. So its really difficult to find motivation to do something that no one cares about. Which I dont mean to sound like the cliche “if you cant instagram it, did it really happen?” “if the tree falls in the woods but no one was there to see it, did it make a sound?” 

Its a vicious cycle, I observe, because in not doing the thing I think no one sees or cares about, the thing I CARE ABOUT definitely never happens and, therefore, doesnt exist to be cared about or seen at all. 

If I threw a party and nobody showed up, and quit throwing parties, then NO ONE would show up. Wayne Gretski “You miss 100% of the shots you dont take” la la la blah yes I know. 

Its so fucking scary. I feel so goddamn freaked out. I feel so obvious. Everyone wants to be loved and noticed, obviously. I’m in part afraid of no one caring, but also I’ve become so egotistical in a way- that if I AM seen, I want to be seen right. I want the right people around me. 

I’ve been dissappinted about people I’ve met or who has noticed me in this town. Again, ego, but like... I dont get hit on here. And those who DO, are AWFUL. I drive home after a night out and think - THAT guy? thought he had it to ask me for my number?

Not to sound cruel. But I’m talking like, total like... icky dudes. Or just blah dudes. 

I sparkle, and I want to share it with somebody ... whats a better way to say “with somebody who matters”? Because that sounds horrible. I dont see myself as some queen diva champion, but I just... have a lot and have lived a very interesting life, and I feel like its just kindof. Stopped. 

I hear some voices say that inspiration is bullshit. waiting for inspiration is an excuse. but like. 

what... how... HOW? How to just go and do things anyway when theres SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN DISSAPOINT YOU. SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN DRAIN YOU. SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN HURT YOU. SO MANY THINGS THAT CAN LEAD YOU ASTRAY. 

So in lieu of this fear, I’ve done nothing. I miss feeling fearless. 

I’ve felt happiness lately going to kpop shows. When the artist looks at me. Not a sexy look or even a real look, but I still feel seen. Your eyeballs, You this Artist I care about, has seen my face. Has felt my presence in the crowd. And I like to delusionaly think that matters. I know in a woo woo way, everyones energy matters, but I’m in my head really BELIEVING that my presence is special. So when I go out, or try to meet new people, and just get met with duds or nothing at all - I feel like it was a waste. Or, worse, that I’m the joke. And that I’m crazy for thinking I’m special at all. 

So. I need to clean my car. I need to get in shape. I need to dust off my cameras. I need to USE them. I need to play piano. I need to shred my magazines and make collage art again. I need to go out into nature and get attuned to the sunset and stars again. I need to even like, update my goddamn facebook page, and instagram and delete emails and FIX MY FUCKING LINKEDIN PROFILE BUT I’M SCARED. and lazy. And I want to have somebody to impress, but NOBODY. CARES. So why bother? But I genuinely feel like I’m disappearing! talking in circles. 

By not doing things for myself out of fear, I’m essentially proving the world right. By not existing, I dont exist. 

Why am I so scared? I mean, theres the Mom card. I’ve been aching to call her more than usual lately. This year I’ve felt the physical, tangible craving to call her. She died in 20...15? 2015. August of 2015. 

And I never knew what being loved like that felt like until it was gone. She knew me, she saw everything. And she thought I was the most special, just for existing. She had 5+ miscarriages after having my older brother. She didnt think she was gonna have another baby. Let alone a little girl. Then she got the call, that the pregnancy stuck, that I was gonna be her daughter. The doctors literally SEWED HER CERVIX SHUT to keep me up there long enough. I was still born a month early, but I was her treasure. She wanted me SO BADLY. 

I still dont know if her death was an accident or intentional, and I’m afraid to ask. I dont even know if my father would tell me the truth, he may need to believe it was an accident. But she was deeply depressed and addicted to hydrocodone, and she was found dead on our living room floor, all alone, on the day of her’s and my father’s 35th wedding anniversary. He was in the hospital at the time, he’d broken his shin bone weeks prior and has bad bones so he was in a rehab place. She was home alone, encouraged by him to just stay in and enjoy the house, and that they’d celebrate their anniversary another weekend. He sent her a bouquet of roses that she’d never see. They sat on our doorstep while she laid inside on the floor. It was devestating. Well, duh, thats an understatement. 

When I was going to therapy (I stopped over COVID and havent gone back) my therapist asked me “would it make anything different for you, if you knew?” and at first I answered No. But even the next day I was honest with myself and truly, it would make a huge fucking difference. Knowing if it was a mistake, too much wine, took an extra hydrocodone, got woozy and passed out, maybe hit her head, or maybe a heart thing. That would change everything, if she didnt WANT to leave us. If it was just a fluke. That’d make a very big difference. 

I’ve gotten over a lot since then and the layers of growth and wisdom I’ve developed is indescribable. I’m deeply proud of myself and who I am inside. But thats what makes me angry and sad right now. Why have I become such a blob? Surely I miss her love, even though it was so broken the last five years of her life with her severe depression. I forgive that, and I think she’d forgive me for being too young to understand and fight harder for her. Our hometown doesnt have shit in the way of Mental Health services. She needed worlds more help, and I couldve fought harder for her. Alas, I think she would be upset with me for thinking this way. She’d express “we’re the parents, its not on you to parent your own parents.” 

Anyways. I feel like my Father is loving me how he knows how. He’s great for sweet support, but not great with life advice. He’s the least ambitious man I know since he retired. He HATED work, but suffered and sacrificed infinitely for us anyway to keep our lives afloat, and for that I’ll be forever grateful. But since he got to leave work and came into family money, he doesnt do much unless he HAS to. He’s a music man, but hasnt played guitar or written songs or done anything creative in decades. He let it burn out. I respect him, I love him for him and try not to be disappointed about his choices but... its just difficult to express my feelings to him about these things. He’s like “Josie, dont worry I have money, you’ll never be in trouble.” And I just... I believe him but I dont believe him? I dont want to buckle into that. I feel like I need to earn that privelege. I cant just ask, I’m not a trust fund kid. Cant just be like DADDY I WANT TO GO TO MIAMI CAN I HAVE TEN GRAND? Like, no! First of all He’d never say yes to that hahaha. I’ve definitely lied (*white lied) to my family to sound more put together and “worthy” than I actually probably am. I talk about my job like its a bigger deal than it is, when in reality I’m only making $15 an hour and I’m late every single day. 

Fuck, speaking of. I was supposed to take a shower about 6 hours ago, but its 11:30pm and I have to go to bed and still havent gotten clean. Its been too many days. I’m gross. 

See!? my life needs a fucking overhaul. WHY AM I STRUGGLING TO TAKE A FUCKING SHOWER. 

I am broken dude. wtf. 

I feel more motivated to take care of myself WHEN I FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY GIVES A SHIT WHO I AM! Somebody to wash my hair for, dress up for. Even though truth is, I absolutely do it for me. I go out to a concert to be seen, sure, but when I’m getting ready, I LOVE my reflection. I love hanging out with music on and expressing artistry with makeup or clothing styling. I do it because IIIIII like it. And then out in the world, at least if no one else likes it, at least I do?

But it still requires an invitation out. Someone saying “hey come meet us at this bar!” or a great concert I want to see and SHOW UP for. TURN UP for. 

How do I do these things, how do I give a shit about showing up, if theres no invitation? if theres no obvious purpose other than just doing the thing?

I fear by existing out there, youre inviting critique. If i carry a camera around, people will ask to see. And what if I suck!!! What if theyre like “oh my god who the fuck does she think she is, carrying that nice ass big ass camera and her photos are so mediocre.” 

I dont want to be a joke. 

Sometimes I go into massive panic attacks getting dressed to go out because I feel like, too old and fat or the wrong genre to pull anything off and if I go out like... it’ll be the “who does she think she is.” 

fuck. 

fuck fuck fuck. I need to wash my face. I need to brush my teeth. 

I need to get a FUCKING LIFE. 

I want that Hybe America job. Content Preditor, they mushed together the words pre- and editor to make PREDITOR. How sexy could that be! 

The job description describes who I wish I was. Prepared, experienced, creative, multitasking, able to improvise, team leader, good with new people, passionate about the music industry. 

I havent taken any vitamins today. the EASIEST thing to do. because I hate walking into the kitchen to get water. 

Thats a WHOLE OTHER CAN OF WORMS. my living situation. this post is already too long. I’ve already procrastinated showering for far too long. I’ve already watched... lets see... NINE episodes, 40 minutes each. 

I need help. Talk more tomorrow. Or, yknow, six more years or however long the previous gap between my posts have been. 

[mehrto]

Of Interrupted Drag Shows and Failed Duck Walks

Anthony J. Crowley, a Mancunian drag queen, voguing pro, knitting amateur, and mother at the House of Gaia shares a tired cigarette with a hungry, snobby tailor whose shop is only just off Savile Row, thank you, one rainy night in Soho in 2008. They run into each other over and over again until they can't help but become friends and soft and each other's most significant other and a whole load of other things too, really.

About belonging and acceptance and figuring out how to make things work at a place in your life you never really thought you'd be at.

Featuring art by @mehrto, fic by @thyra279, and a whole load of softness and snippiness.

Rated E, first chapter coming on the 30th January!

Excerpt below the line:

"Hullo, Aziraphale." Crowley's long fingers trembled as they lit a cigarette, gave away the adrenaline still coursing through his body. He stepped up to the railing at the top of the half-stairs, leant over it almost casually with the first smoky exhale. The exhaustion set in as soon as he relaxed, ageing muscles finally allowing themselves to feel the strain.

He didn't let them for long, shifting his weight from one heeled boot to the other, settling one foot between two of the balusters. If it caused one of his long legs to peek out of the dress directly at Aziraphale, well. He was an old hand at this.

The bastard barely gave his leg a glance, looking up at Crowley’s face instead with that stupidly soft smile that always seemed so entirely, beautifully out of place in the thumping base and harsh lights of the club.

"You look wonderful tonight, my dear."

He forced himself to take a luxuriously deep inhale, exhaled just as slowly. Settled into his deeper, lazier off-duty voice. "See now, angel, you're saying that as if it's not an everyday occurrence."

A bead of sweat that made its way from his hairline down his cheekbone, clinging on for dear life at his chin for a moment before giving up, dropping on to the floor between them.

If it had fucked up his makeup, his perfectly pristine skin, he would bloody kill it.

Aziraphale merely smiled, taking the first step up towards him.

The bundle of roses crinkled in their paper wrapping behind Aziraphale's back as he did - they'd have given the game away if it wasn't blatantly obvious they were there, if it wasn't the hundredth time he'd brought him some. Red roses today, Crowley noticed with surprise, taking another drag.

"You were very good out there tonight. 'Fierce', I believe one might say?"

Crowley cracked a smile, couldn't help himself. "Sure. One might."

A cloud of nearly-white curls bounced gently as he nodded at his leg, now fully out in the open. Good. Half his arse was out on display at this point.

"How's your knee holding up, my dear?"

"Oh fuck right off. M'knee's fine."

Crowley hated the concern so obvious in the lines of Aziraphale's forehead, felt a mad urge to dab them away, drown them out with a good glue and plenty of foundation. Annoy him until he lost that soft, gentle hum in his voice, until the camp, harsh bastard emerged.

Of course, he had no such luck.

"Perhaps if you were to include fewer of those – those bouncy things… are they dog walks?"

Crowley blinked at him, sniffed. "Ducks."

"Duck walks. They can't be good for your poor knee."

A shrug. "They're integral, though."

Aziraphale ascended the rest of the stairs in his urgency, flowers hopping along down his side. "But you could include more of the other elements to make up for it? More hands might be very elegant, and you are so very good at those, so expressive."

"I can't just do hands, angel, 's not my style."

Aziraphale settled right beside him, gripping the railing tight. "Anthony, you must take care of yourself, we both know you aren't twenty anymore, it's been near-on thirty years since-"

"Alright alright, why don't you shout it a little louder Aziraphale, there's a guy in the basement loo getting blown who might not've heard you," he hissed.

He put his weight back on his dodgy leg to prove a point, sneering at him – and couldn't help but wince.

Aziraphale sighed beside him. "I'm only looking out for you."

Crowley softened. "I know. I do. I know. My guardian angel, always kindness itself." He gave his angel a little shove. Aziraphale stood quite firm, unsurprisingly, gave him a withering look from the step below that any old drag queen would've been proud of.

Aziraphale's beautifully intelligent eyes grew playful little by little, looking up at him.

"I brought you flowers."

"Oh, those for me?"

"Obviously."

"Red roses, Aziraphale," he muttered in a low voice, sidling just a little closer, not quite touching. "Trying to tell me something?"

The softly curl-crowned head looked straight ahead again. Crowley watched curiously as a blush crept from his curls all the way to his unusual, handsome, slightly arrogant nose.

"…Yes." He glanced at him quickly, couldn't help but smile at his expression. "I thought perhaps, if your knee is very bad this evening…" There was a maddening trill to his voice, low and intimate too. "I might carry you to your office upstairs. Take care of you…" he trailed.

Crowley managed nothing more than to close his mouth before his dramatic lips fell open again.

"Perhaps," he continued, sotto voce, brushing up Crowley’s hot, sweaty leg with his skilled tailor's fingers, "I could show you all the wonderful things one might do with one's hands?"

[yezielmoore]

Prompt #23: Shuffle

Vesper Bay is a hive of activity, as per usual, one X’lial ignores.

She reaches the Walking Sands’ entrance and let’s herself in, resisting the urge to knock like some stranger, and waves half-heartedly to the lalafel receptionist, who returns the salute with at least ten times more enthusiasm. Right. As she reaches the branch in the hallways, her ears flicker in the direction of the Common Room slash Cafeteria, easily picking up the roar of many conversations going on at once, the sound barely dulled by the barrier of wood.

Thankfully the corridors aren’t overtly crowded or her fur would be standing on end even more than it already is. X’lial is self-aware enough to know that she’s gone more than a little feral in the two, almost three, years she roamed the countryside and little backwater towns of the mainland, from the Black Shroud to Thanalan. Finally venturing into Ul’dah had been excruciating. At least in Vesper Bay there’re many nooks and crannies one can use to hide in.

X’lial nods in the general direction of the guard stationed outside the Solar, receiving a nod and a smile in return, so either he recognizes her or Minfilia let him know she is expected. Probably the latter, to be honest.

She shuffles nervously in front of the door and compulsively checks and rechecks that her gloves have no holes in them (they don’t). She steels herself, takes a deep breath to calm her nerves and, finally, she pushes the door open.

The silence inside the Solar is most welcome and X’lial finds herself relaxing almost against her will. Her ears flicker back and forth, but she hears nothing save for her own steps and the sound of Minfilia’s writing and breathing. Tension she wasn’t aware she had accumulated bleeds off her frame and her tail resumes a lazier swaying.

Having heard the door, Minfilia puts the pen down and goes around the desk, where she waits, hands clasped in front of herself.

“X’lial! Full glad I am to see you!” Her smile is warm and so genuinely happy to see her that X’lial has to resist the urge to look behind herself for the true recipient of such sentiments.

She nods instead. “Antecedent.”

“It’s Minfilia,” she corrects, not for the first time and probably not for the last.

She’s a weird one, Minfilia, and the same can be said of their relationship, in X’lial’s humble and inexperienced opinion. Hard to be anything but weird when that inconvenient Echo thing decided it’d be nice and dandy to throw them into each other’s head at first contact. X’lial knows a great deal about Minfilia now, more than anyone barring her closest friends and dead mentor. The opposite is also true and even know, months later, X’lial is still grasping with her feelings over the violation of having her life on display, if only to one person.

Minfilia had been greatly understanding when X’lial bolted out of the door before the meeting concluded and didn’t reappear for a week, and when she made only sporadic reports to her elbow for the remainder of that first month. But there’s only so much awkwardness X’lial could tolerate, so it was almost inevitable she ended gravitating towards this woman she knows so much about and yet doesn’t know at all.

They are friends, she thinks as she follows her leader to one of the benches positioned against the stone walls, where they sit side by side. It’s hard to judge such things on nonexistent experience.

In some weird stroke of fate, all the girls in her tribe had either been much older or much younger, the only one her age had been her twin brother. He had been… is her best friend. Her only friend. And after Dalamud… well, it’s quite hard to make friends when half your words die in your mouth and the rest turn incomprehensible if you speak them out loud, made harder by never staying in one place for long.

It’s nice, if strange, to add another name to the list.

Minfilia fidgets with her hands for a moment, expression pensive, before apparently reaching some conclusion.

“I didn’t call you here to discuss business…” she pauses for a second, reconsiders. “Not Scion business at any rate.”

The silence stretches again and X’lial can practically see the frustration grow ever higher in the sky-blue eyes of her friend. Tentatively, she rests a hand on Minfilia’s closed fists, pats her once and tries to smile reassuringly. She isn’t sure how well it comes out, but at least some tension bleeds off Minfilia’s shoulders and the smile returns to her fair features.

“It’s… a delicate topic and I– I don’t know how to say it.” She exhales. “I’m afraid you’ll be mad at me.”

There’s only two topics that X’lial considers off limits and Minfilia had assured her, as soon as she came back from her Echo related freak out, that she has all the freedom she wants to keep up with her search for X’liam. That leaves off her other… difficulties.

She can’t help the way her hackles rise up and her ears fall flat against her skull. This is most definitely not a topic she’s fond of. Minfilia obviously sees this if her wry smile is any indication.

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but I like to think we’re friends… and I have a suggestion that may help, if… if help is something you wish for.”

X’lial gives the other woman an unamused look. “Fix.”

“No! It’s not a fix! You’re not a broken vase we can glue together again and call it good, I know that. But–” Minfilia looks away, unshed tears shine in her eyes. “I know how hard it can get,” she says, referencing that blasted echo vision. “Obviously nothing like what it really is like, but I think I got the gist of it and…” Minfilia locks eyes with her, determination and compassion burning in their depths. “I don’t want to fix you, because there’s nothing to fix, but I’d like to help, to make it easier to live with. If that’s something you want.”

X’lial holds her gaze for a moment before looking away. It’s not that she hadn’t thought about it, how could she not? When she spent almost an entire year bedridden, waiting for broken and shattered bones to mend, for wounds to close, burns to heal and nerves to stop firing up in pain with every breath every single second of the day. And then she waited longer, relearning how to use a body that was alike that of a newborn in strength as well as familiarity. In the end, with time and patience, her body got better and stronger, leaving behind the scars as testament to what had happened.

But not everything healed. Her speech didn’t return. Not whole. She’s lucky to have improved this much, that she knows from the accounts of those that took care of her catatonic self those first months. She had been like a broken Orchestrion Scroll, repeating back words listlessly, forgetting things as soon as they disappeared from sight, getting lost inside the wreck of her head for days on end. Or so she was told.

X’lial doesn’t really remember those days beyond a distant fog of exhaustion with the occasional flash of frustration and deep-seated terror she can only assume were moments when she was lucid but trapped in the cage her body had become.

She prefers to not dwell on that time.  

And she wants. Of course she wants to recover her voice but. There’s always a ‘but’.

The encampment that hosted her while she recovered didn’t have the means to keep her longer than they did, or the expertise to help her. She didn’t have anything, not money nor resources to pay for a direct trip to the Conjurer’s Guild, much less pay them for any kind of treatment, if such a thing existed. All she had were borrowed clothes, a pair of worn cesti and an abyss in place of her heart that she had filled with rage, hatred and unending determination to find her missing family.

With an objective in mind, she had buried that kernel of hope and left, just another ‘adventurer’ on the road to fame or whatever.

But hope was a weed more persistent than any other it seems.

“Possible?” X’lial asks, quietly, still not looking at Minfilia.

“I won’t lie, I don’t know if it’s possible, but the Conjurer’s Guild specialize in the healing arts, if anyone knows of a treatment, or a kind of therapy for the mind, it’d be them.”

X’lial nods absently and looks at Minfilia in the eye. “Money?” Because nobody did anything for free, that’s just the way the world worked. Money, goods or ability, you always had to pay with something for services rendered. She doesn’t think of those do-gooders that scrapped a ruin of a miqo’te from the aftermath of Dalamud for no other reason than they could, doesn’t think of how they helped, how they provided all she needed and more. Doesn’t think of kindness and support. Doesn’t think how she left without even a goodbye.

“X’lial,” Minfilia calls and her attention returns to the present, “you’re one of us now. I know it hasn’t been that long, so it may sound unbelievable, but you are part of the Scions and we take care of our own,” she says with conviction burning in her eyes. “What we lack in gold we have in connections. It’s no trouble to make contact with the Conjurer’s Guild, to investigate this matter and move forwards if that’s your desire.”

For the first time Minfilia breaks character and impulsively grabs one of X’lial’s hands, which makes the miqo’te stiffen, tail lashing about in the air with agitation. Noticing this, Minfilia lets go but doesn’t retreat.

“It’s not a requirement nor an order. You may seek their aid or not, but you can and I need you to know that,” she says, full of quiet stubbornness, before quietly adding, “just… keep it mind, yes?”

Almost mechanically, X’lial nods. Mind whirling with thoughts and chest tight with too many feelings. “T-t-thank…” she presses her lips together, cutting off any other words that may want to escape.

Minfili smile is like the first rays of dawn, gentle and bright.

[szopenhauer]

Where do you put your keys when you get home? personal

Have you ever seen a snake in the wild? one from far away on the sand when I was on camp and second time it was just dead and not even whole anymore, I wanna touch a snake!

What’s your favourite movie from the 80s? can’t choose only one

Are you expecting any phone calls or emails? not really

Do you have any family that live in another country? no one close

Are there any words that you hate or make you cringe? sure

What is the best house you’ve ever lived in? I’ve lived in one house only unless I can count some I stayed for awhile like grandma’s apartment or aunt’s cottage 

What movie reminds you of your childhood? many movies like Jumanji or Goonies

What was the last email you received? spam

Are you in any fb groups? I am

Whose house did you last visit? my gf’s

How many tabs do you have open right now? 5

What’s something you’ve been meaning to do but keep putting off? I procrastinate lots of stuff

What’s the first thing you check on your phone at the start of the day? fb messanger/time

Would you date someone who still lived with their parents? I still live with my parents  Do you think there is life on other planets? not those close to us

Would you enjoy a night of playing video games? maybe Do you dream of traveling the world or are you happy where you are? I’m not happy but I don’t want to travel  Would you watch a porno with your partner? hmm... Have you ever stolen from your work? no Do you own any sex toys? I don’t How often do you use facebook at work? depends Would you date someone half your age? that would be illegal and I wouldn’t want to anyway Are you a romantic person? a little? Would you be okay with your partner hanging with their ex as friends? I probably wouldn’t be  Do you have a current passport? never had a passport Is it more fun to go out just with your date or on a group date? just my date Have you had a relationship with someone of the same sex? as a lesbian Is marriage a necessity for two people who love each other? no but it’s nice Is there anything you think science will never be able to explain? possibly Is intoxication ever an acceptable excuse for acting stupid? if you can’t act normal then don’t drink, UGH! Do you litter? never Do you believe in fate or destiny? not sure Doing nothing all day makes you feel…? both good and bad Have you ever had sex with someone you worked with? I have not Would you date someone just for the sex? noooo Do you consider yourself a positive person? pfft Are Sex and Intimacy the same thing? sex is to intimacy like square to rectangles How often do you get angry? I’m like Bruce Banner Have you had cosmetic surgery? I haven’t On a first date do you pay or do they? split Do you only date people who have jobs or are full-time students? I don’t care what they do in life (school, job or nothing) if we don’t live together, I’m unemployed myself Could you date someone who does drugs? doubt it Do you enjoy watching sports? nah Would you do a striptease for your partner? umm... Would you date someone who doesn’t have a car? sure, I don’t even own one  You have a week off, travel or stay home? home <3 Does spending the weekend at home annoy you? noooo Do you consider yourself open minded? nah Do others find you sexy? r u kidding?... Have you ever met someone in person you met online? I have Do you tell your friends you love them? nope, just family and partner

Do your siblings dye their hair? sometimes Who can you best relate to in the last book you read? partially to Will, Stella and Poe Are you indecisive? it’s hard for me to make a decision but I am not changing my mind like wind blows

What are you listening to? Lana Del Rey What are you doing tomorrow? we’ll see What was the last compliment someone gave you? not sure which was last Do you have a big family? no but it’s still to big for me :x Which one of your senses would you miss the most if you lost it? sight, then hearing

What’s your opinion on prostitution? Should it be legal and regulated, or is it something that needs to be gotten rid of completely? it should be illegal If you want (or don’t want) kids, is this something you’ve always known or have you changed your mind as you’ve grown up? I wanted kids at first because I played dolls and didn’t know anything about pregnancy or taking care of real children, I just thought it’s normal everyone have them at some point and that’s all but once I found out more about the subject I realized it’s not for me because of many reasons

Has the person you like ever seen you in your pajamas? yup Did the last person you kissed celebrate your last birthday with you? she wasn’t in my life at the time What’s the first word of the last text message you received? ok was the whole message XD

What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? I’m gonna die, if I won’t fall asleep I’ll explode, I feel so bad Are you okay right now? am I ever?... When was the last time you saw your mom? we’re home together What is the last thing you drank today? just going to drink some water in the kitchen Will you be up before 7 am tomorrow? hope not What are you listening to right now? Cigarettes after sex Last time you had a sleepover? ages ago If the last person you dated said they were in love with you, what would you say? I know she does, she was telling me that already Do you replay things that have happened in your head? overthinking for life If you could get paid to do anything in the world, what would you do? sitting in front of the computer  Do your parents actually knock on your door before entering your room or just barge right in, instead? my dad knocks, my mom barges in What would you do if it snowed right now? ...

Are you more of a leader or a follower? loner

Would you say you’ve had a good life so far? no comment What’s something you wish you could have delivered to your house? regularly or right now? What’s your favorite art style? surrealism? Are any of your coworkers currently out on maternity/paternity leave? I don’t have coworkers now Do you have a good sense of balance? it’s hard to say Do you live in a very racially and culturally diverse country? no Do you live alone? I wish

Have you done something recently that helped someone else, in any way? nothing big If you knew that one of your friends was considering suicide, what would you say to them? depends

Who was the last person to pay you a compliment? my gf The shirt you’re wearinh - is it one of your favourites? yep Is there a certain name that you think seems to have become really popular, and you know lots of people with that same name? growing up Ewelina, Julia, Emilia, Katarzyna, Urszula, Małgorzata and Michał were the most popular names Before Facebook became popular, did you use any other social networking site? yup Have you ever asked anyone “Do you love me?” If so, did you get the response you wanted? Do you think when someone says “I love you”, you feel obliged to say it back? yes, usually and kinda If you’ve had a bad experience in a past relationship, did you find that you were scared to get into another relationship, in case the same thing happened again? that’s normal Are you friends with the last person you hugged, or something more? we’re related Do you ever post song lyrics as your Facebook status? sometimes Do you drink alcohol on a regular basis, or do you prefer to save it for special occasions? I don’t drink even on special occassions Did you play with Barbies when you were a kid, or did you prefer something else? I played with Barbies but not only them If you were going to buy a present for the person you love/like, what would you generally choose? what she likes/wants/needs :) If I’m going to buy you a box of chocolates, which kind should I definitely NOT get? don’t buy me any Is there something you generally always ask for help with? I need help with many things :( Has anyone called you beautiful today? no, I’m not so that would be a lie

Who was the last person to see you cry? my mother

Do you drink bottled water? sometimes

You never know what you have until it’s gone. True or false? kinda true

Are you scared of losing the person you like to someone else? if they were happy with someone else - let that happen, I’ll be fine alone

Will you be in bed in the next 20 minutes? too early to sleep

Do you laugh at inappropriate times? rarely

How many bracelets do you have on right now? zero

Do you have someone you have late night conversations with? I do

What does your phone do when it receives a text? vibrates

What is in your pocket? no pockets!

Can you remember the last person you texted without looking? my sister 

Do you listen to music everyday? almost

Are you gonna be home alone tonight? I won’t be alone

If there was a large spider in your room, would you stay in the room? how big?

Are you a flirty person? maybe The last store you went to was…? local

Do you have a friend named Alex? used to  What did you think of the movie Juno? I have mixed feelings about it How often do you eat meat? often Have you ever gotten clothes from the kids section as an adult? I have :x Are you more of a science/math person or english/history person? I’m artsy  When you were little, would you have rather watched Cartoon Network or Disney Channel? we didn’t have such expensive channels Since using the internet regularly, have you started to read less than you used to? I read less not because of internet Are you a big fan of the Harry Potter series? nah Do you find yourself feeling lazier when the weather is warm? I feel lazier when the weather is cold because I don’t wanna leave my bed or home at least Are you a fan of the TV show Friends? watched fragments and I like Chandler and Phoebe - I think they would be great together, I’m a bit like them How old do you think is too old to sleep with a stuffed animal? never Are you 100% over the last person you kissed? I’m not How many tattoos would you like to have? I don’t plan any Are you over the age of 25? I am Do you want your life to stay the way it is right now forever? omg! I want my life to get better :( Would you rather live without music or without the t.v? without TV

[jessiewre]

Day 52

Tues 25th Feb

#prawnsforBarry 🍤🍤🍤

We sat at breakfast excited to have our, sorry Phil’s, new mustard accompaniment. We even managed to convince Wendy the waitress to try it. She said she liked it, but it was hard to tell if she was just being polite or not!

As had become a daily occurrence, we began to discuss when we should leave Watamu and move on. When we would actually start travelling again. Whenever we had this conversation, we seemed to add on a day - and so far we’d done this at least 4 times. We had somehow ended up on holiday while on holiday.

With Phil’s run on the Sunday, we knew we had to move and agreed we should arrive in Moshi (Tanzania) by Friday at the latest. So when Philly Tours discovered there was a daily direct bus from Mombasa to Moshi, it was decided - we would go to Mombasa on the Weds to get the 7am bus the next day. Or the Thurs. Ok probably the Thursday.

Ok well with that plan in place, we went to see my little tailor mate to order more clothes didn’t we! They were so nice and cheap, it made sense to use this opportunity to replace the pair I lost while flailing about in the Nile. So Phil ordered an extra pair of shorts and I asked for two pairs, plus a pair of culottes style trousers. I personally wanted to get the same sizing Phil had for his birthday shorts, as they were soooo comfy, but Phil said they were a little too baggy and ill fitting. He had a point to be fair, so the man measured me up but I tried hard to make it clear that I didn’t want the clothes to be too tight and uncomfortable. Watch this space.

After that, we went to the pool and as we approached, I could see that Barry was lay on the far side. He had his shades on and hadn’t noticed us yet.

‘Barry’s over there Phil’ I whispered.

‘I know’ he said ‘But I can’t be arsed right now, I’ll chat with him later’.

But the attraction of Phil was too much for Barry and he could smell him for sure. Within 30 seconds, Barry was out of his lounger and on his way over. Oh we could see that he wasn’t happy from his walk. And he didn’t need to be asked why, so he saved us a job and launched right into it.

‘I was meant to go on that boat trip today weren’t I.’

We nodded along.

‘They pissed me off so I sacked it off’.

Oh shitt. There’d been some drama in Barrytown. Well we were in by this point, so we couldn’t help but dig for more. Not that we needed to ask, we would have definitely found out either way.

‘Oh dear, what happened??’

‘Well...’

Barry took a deep breath.

‘Some bloke met me at the front of the hotel, but there was no tuc tuc, so I said Where’s my tuc tuc? And he pointed to the beach and said Boat here. So we walked to the beach and there was no boat so I said Where’s the boat mate?? and THEN he pointed to the end of the bay. He was saying I had to walk to the other bay! So that pissed me off. That pissed me right off. I told him, I said, I don’t like walkin’. Ya know?So we eventually got to the other bay and there was a load of Italians sat about waiting for the boats and I’m looking at these boats thinkin’...I don’t fancy that. They were not even that big these boats and I thought Ya know what, I can’t be arsed with this. So I got up and walked back. Fuk it. Only lost $20, I don’t even care’

And that was Barry’s boat trip.

Being the great friend that he is, Phil got into the pool with angry Barry to cool him down and comfort him with kind words and a quick head rub.

Kiddddinnnnnnggg

They just chilled in the pool and actually had a lovely chat about food, Barry telling Phil about the food available at his local in Cyprus.

‘You’ve got your Pork chops, Lamb, Olive oil, Salt, pepper - its gotta be dun’ mate’

Yes Barry, quite.

Despite the inspiring meat chat, we had a cheap and simple VEGETARIAN lunch at our hotel consisting of rice, lentil Dahl, spinach and chapati and actually got ourselves organised enough to do an activity. Unheard of! I swear, the longer we had stayed in Watamu, the lazier we’d become, and an excursion out was a much needed rarity. We arrived to the Turtle Ocean Conservation and everywhere you looked were recycled items lovingly used to ingeniously build and decorate. The gardens were lined with glass bottles as flower bed edging and there were sculptures of animals & big displays made from plastic waste. It was one of those places that had a special feel about it, like it was made out of pure love and good vibes. Real wholesome like 🤓

Ruth, a passionate & knowledgeable environmentalist, showed us around the small centre and explained the many problems they (the turtles & sea life) were facing on a daily basis - pollution, lack of education, plastic waste, over-fishing, poaching - to name but a few. They had one resident turtle in at that moment. She’d been found in a fisherman’s net and was struggling with various health problems. They hoped to nurse her back to health and eventually release her back into the ocean. Luckily turtles never formed bonds or any attachement with their human carers, so once they were healthy, the release was easy - they swam straight off without looking back. It was even more important to get them better if they were a female turtle as they had the potential to reproduce. It could take months or even years before she was better - one turtle was in for 6 years before its release!

Female turtles can have over 2000 eggs in a lifetime, but due to all the obstacles they now face, it’s likely that only 1 or 2 of those eggs will go on to have their own eggs. People often think that turtles are doing really well as they see lots of pictures of them and they have so many eggs in their lives, but its a misconception. The population is rapidly decreasing.

We ended the tour passing past an entrance to a garden area and I asked Ruth if we could go in. She said yes, but she didn’t seem to think it was really worth a look. I don’t know why, as there were some amazing art sculptures in there. There was a huge jellyfish made from plastic bags and a massive turtle made of bottle tops, plus there was a sort of turtle graveyard with all the shells they’d collected from the poaching. The whole area was like a sort of secret garden, with winding paths and hidden corners and it was clear to me that this garden could be utilised and made more of a feature for the centre. It would be far more engaging by adding a challenge or treasure hunt type activity. I discussed it with Ruth and explained my idea, saying they could have a simple paper sheet with tasks & questions to answer. They could sell for like $1, and then kids could go round the garden finding the answers by using fact boards placed around the garden. SICK IDEA RIGHT!?
Well she thought so too, and said she was definitely going to make it happen when the next volunteers arrived! WOOP WOOP 🙌. Shame we were leaving Watamu and couldn’t stay to help. I would have smashed that. I decided I’d drop her an email afterwards to check up on the idea and see if she needed any help with it. And get a cut of the profits obvs.

The whole centre runs purely from donations and running their tours, so if you would like to donate to help the turtles, every little helps. I will post a link up after this post.

Phil had already planned to use our trip out as an opportunity to do a run and so donned on all his gear and headed off while I waited for a tuc tuc. The driver and I then overtook Phil halfway back and even the driver said Phil was ‘very fast’. I smiled proudly and agreed with him. I waited for him to finish that sentence with. ‘...for a muzungu’ but he didn’t. Wow it was a proper compliment.

We went for another late afternoon dip in the sea accompanied by a beach bar beer, and Barry the stalker appeared in the bar next to ours - it was the same bar he went to every evening to be fair. A man of habit was our Barry.

No point sitting on different tables though Barry eh...so he followed his hearts desire and came over to sit with Phil. I was there obviously, but we all know by now Barry only has eyes for Phil.

‘Someone’s sat in my seat tonight’ he said, nodding towards ‘his’ bar as he arrived.

Nightmare. Barry had rocked up to his bar and someone had sat in his favourite seat. What an absolute joke.

Phil and Barry discussed many things, one being Barry’s marriage and subsequent divorce. Why didn’t it work out I wondered? No doubt there were various reasons, but maybe Barry going to the pub 3 or 4 nights a week didn’t help. Just a thought. But for Barry it was ‘necessary’ to have his pub time. Essential. I asked whether his wife (sorry, ex-wife) ever went out, or was she just at home with their child, while he was at the pub and he said ‘I gave her every opportunity to go out with her friends’. I choked on my drink laughing as it reminded me of something Phil says sarcastically on a regular basis - ‘Thank you for the opportunity Jess’.

But my favourite topic of the evening was Barry’s ‘banter’ chat.

‘Phil, do you have banter with your mates?’

He didn’t wait for a reply

‘Cos I do.’

I interjected at this point to mention that we both enjoyed dabbling in a spot of banter from time to time, but Barry was a mans man and I’m not sure he heard me. Boys will be boys right.

‘Me and my mates used to go to this one pub a couple of nights a week and bloody hell the banter was ‘ilarious. One time, my mate went to the loo and we barricaded the door. Completely blocked it, he couldn’t get out! Oh we had sucha laugh. Another time, this guy started a fight with my mate, over nuffing, and we all jumped on, then the barman - he was a big lad - he just picked the fella up and THREW him out the door! Honestly it was HILARIOUS. Oh ha and once, we got a painting that was on the wall, took it off, and we screwed it to the ceiling. Oh god, the landlord didn’t find it for weeks! Honestly Phil, so funny mate....’

 

Listening to Barry’s bountiful banter tales of mischief and man fun was thoroughly entertaining (gosh imagine the thrills of it. I can’t wait to get home and do the painting on the ceiling trick at my, sorry, Mum and Dads house) but I decided to leave them to it and walk up to my tailor bloke to collect the items before he closed.

My plan was to try the new items on and give feedback if necessary. But by the time I walked down the beach and then the pitch black beach road at high speed, I was sweating so profusely that I wasn’t thinking straight. I lost approximately 3 litres of sweat trying on the various shorts and trousers only to discover they were FAR too tight for me - but the boss guy wasn’t even there and I was SO hot that I just paid up and ran out of the shack. As I walked back along the beach, I already decided I would have to go back the next morning to get the trousers changed at the very least.

By the time I got back to the lads, Barry and Phil had settled in for the night and had even got themselves double stacked chairs to sit on for additional support (Barry was not a small chap). My plan to eat at a nice restaurant I’d spotted was rapidly fading away and in a desperate attempt to entice me to warm to the idea of a romantic meal for 3 on the beach, Phil announced he wanted prawns for dinner.

Now let me tell you - Phil has never, EVER, in his life ordered prawns. He has occasionally eaten prawns off my plate, and ONLY when I have thoroughly de-shelled and prepped them as though he was a baby (or Roy McCusker). So I could hardly say No could I, and to be honest, I was impressed by his boldness and also intrigued to see how the hell he was going to handle de-shelling prawns for the first time in his life. All with an audience (ok, just Barry). This was going to be a sight to see.

After we ordered the food though, Phil decided to announce he was going for a quick shower, so Barry and I finally got some time to ourselves. Great. It’s what we’d both been craving.

I stuck with what I know and chatted about different countries etc and ended up showing Barry some pictures of Mexico on my phone. Easy win. But suddenly a WhatsApp message popped up on the screen and it was a video of Phil singing as he got into the shower. I VERY quickly swiped it away and thought PHEW, I’ve just about got away with that one. I continued to show pictures of Mexican cenotes when another message appeared. This one was something like this

🤪🥰😍

Ok well this one was also cringe, so I quickly shifted the phone away to turn it onto airplane mode.

And thank god I did, as the next message Phil sent me popped up on the screen just as I moved it from Barry’s view:

#prawnsforBarry

Ok so at this point, I told Barry the phone was no longer working.

Phil returned (THANK GOD FOR THAT) wearing the newly altered mustard shirt, but Barry pointed that the pocket was still on the wonk. Dammit he was right as well. During the hour wait for these prawns, the topic I’d of how we met was bought up. I happily told Barry we met in a gay club and that we both had best friends who were gay. That’s right Barry. GAY. Oooh how was this going to go down I wondered...

We started off ok. Barry said he used to know a guy at work and he invited him to some of his dinner parties a few times. How nice of you Barry.

Lovely. But where’s the ‘but’...?

Ah ha, here it is

‘I don’t have a problem with it...’

Yes Barry, go on...

‘I don’t have a problem with it...but...’ (there it was) ‘...but when it comes up on TV and there’s two blokes kissing, I mean, ya know I don’t wana see that’. Barry pulled a face of disgust.

It was my turn to jump in

‘But I suppose two girls kissing is ok to see?’

Barry raised his eyebrows and avoided eye contact.

‘Well...you don’t see so much of that do you, its always blokes’

‘Apart from in porn right? Lots of men don’t mind gay kissing when its women doing it and its for their gratification. Kind of ironic really isn’t it!’ I said.

What I also wanted to say was:

I hate to break it to you Barry but you DO have a problem with it.

People are allowed to be uncomfortable with it, that is their right, but they need to understand that therefore they DO have a problem with it. And if that’s the case, then it would be better for everyone if those people kept their prejudice and judgement on the matter completely to themselves. It is homophobic to say ‘I don’t wana see that’ and talking like that is not helpful to anyone.

But what I actually explained to Barry was that of course he was not alone in his discomfort and many men and some women of his generation, and other generations too, would feel uncomfortable. This was likely due to the fact they had not been bought up to see gay culture and had been surrounded by homophobic language, media and culture in their life. If they were conscious and aware about why they felt the way they did, they might feel more comfortable with being uncomfortable.

I’m not sure how much of it he took in. Things went rapidly downhill after this when I mentioned the plastic straw issue to the waiter and Barry forgot he’d already told Phil about his Greta Thunberg joke meme (he definitely didn’t know it was a meme, but it was a meme). I managed to hear properly this time. Are you ready? Apologies in advance for this.

He described it as a picture of Greta Thunberg and at the top of it, it said ‘F**k the climate’ and at the bottom it said ‘I’ve discovered c**k’..

Not only was it a bizarre and offensive, it was not funny.

What IS funny is how a 70 year old man was so uncomfortable with two men kissing, but completely comfortable making a gross sexual joke about an autistic child.

Phil spoke up in response this time and said ‘Wow I mean, its pretty rude and its not really very funny. Anything she does for the climate is fantastic really’, while I said something like ‘Wow, isn’t she like 15 years old??’. To which Barry awkwardly said he thought she was 16. COOL WELL THAT MAKES IT OK THEN MATE.

So anyway - #prawnsforBarry - Phil somehow dealt with the prawns completely independent of my help which was actually unbelievable and I glowed with pride. The pace at which he was able to consume his dinner was far slower than he would have liked due to the amount of prep work required, but he got on with it like a trooper. His achievements of combating prawns alongside not being a sexist homophobe really shone that night and we went back to the hotel agreeing that we’d have dinner just us two the next day.

[arkus-rhapsode]

Fairy Tail 100 Years Quest Chapter 12 Review

Oh my god... What the heck is even going on?

So our cover page is Natsu and Lucy, and Natsu I hope you enjoy that brain freeze.

So we open on Jellal confronting Touka. We learn like how Avatar was devoted to black magic there was a group devoted to white magic. Now this is cool, but literally if you watch the anime recently, that arc was done in 5 episodes. So this feels really odd on how much effort is being put into it.

Like if there was like something tying into Tenrou or hell edolas, that make more sense, given all thee time on it.

So Jellal describes White magic as a philosophy of nothingness, which that doesn’t make sense. Fans of yugioh gx might compare this the darkness and light in that series and how darkness led to creation while light was subjugation. But Black magic is clearly about ending life or manipulating life. I guess you could dumb it down to all life, but literal Ankherseram black magic is portrayed as nothing but death. So wouldn’t white be about life? I guess nothingness as life without personality isn’t wrong,  but this feels like a stretch.

Also, Mashima said anyone could learn any type of magic. So why is that an abnormality? Like if this was Black Clover where you are assigned a single affinity that be one thing.

Suddenly Laxus steps in, and want to make this clear. I don’t exactly hate the idea behind this. That Laxus wants to defend someonew ho is a part of his family, given his new found view on FT, and its using the family aspect of FT on its head. Someone bad could be using FT’s family mentality for personal benefit. Which is interesting.

Okay, well Jellal has a reason, she is  suspect and as a guild master he has authority to take her in. However, Laxus you of all people know that people in your guild will still harm it.

On the one hand im torn, the shounen loving half of my brain wants to see this fight. But the logical half says that these two are mature adults with enough common sense to take this to the run knights. And confrontation is over after this page.

Yeah for a chapter named after the two, its got very little to do with theem. Instead.... The worst thing in the chapter happens. We cut to Diablos’ ship and we see this.

Yes you are seeing this right. For people who were saying I was to harsh, calling this a submissive Erza fetish that Mashima is putting out, I ask you read this chapter.

You know I can’t tell if Skullion means this is temporary as in terms of magic, or temporary as Kyria will grow bored, but I do know that this is nothing but sick and tastess. Also props to Madmorel for having some class to be disgusted by the perv in the group. Like that is becoming a rarity these days.

We are guided down to the lower deck where natsu and wendy are being held, the motion sickness keeping them in check.

I’ve been putting this off long enough, its time to rant. This is bull shit. People told me, i was too harsh on mashima, but at the least I thought this was some sort of temporary thing that was meant so Kyria could get a win in a fight, but this might be some permanent magic effect feels disgusting.

Now, people say that this happened cause people would rag on Erza, called Erza fights awful, and that now Mashima is going in the complete opposite dirction. You didn’t like strong erza, fine! Here’s weak Erza, you happy cynics?

But that’s not the case. People didn’t like Erza because she was “too strong” she was someoone who went from this amazing badass female character, to this static friendship speech spewing tool that never truly got any development. Its painful for people to see a character like Erza not grow after she had developed so much in ToH, but it just was never followed through. All the times she won just felt like a poor spectacle without any character behind it.

Now you could say an erza who needs to get her strength back could be character development. No. Cutting away a person’s strength with “magic” is not character development, its forced regression. Its the author literally creating an unrealistic situation bcause he has no idea what to do with her  after ToH, hell he can’t even fully commit to a love story between her and jellal.

When Erza came onto the scene, she was cool, in control, yet could over react at times. To see her be pushed to her lowest by ToH and then recover and face midnight in OS, is peak Erza character shining through. That this is how erza’s development deserved to be treated. But Watching Erza crawl on the ground, be spanked, and cry for mercy like a hentai doll, all because of plot convince magic is so gross to me. Its ejecting the Erza that we all love and stripping her of all that personality just for this.

So if you blame this development on people who were too hard on Mashima about how he was writing Erza, I, a critic and very judgemental person, find this worse than any of the nakama power or skimpy armors.

Erza being trapped in Kyoka’s sex dungeon was bad, but you know what, EErza actievly resisted it. She didn’t want to be there aand tried to fight back. It wasn’t handled well, but that t least felt like whatt her character would do in this situation. But this was forced upon her and this is nothing more than an Erza made for this arc.

Also, lets step out of this and look at this from the meta perspective that this is also extremely lazy. In Eden’s zero there’s a villain who is all about subjugating women right now, and Mashima couldn’t be bothered to not let that bleeed into his other work. If that doesn’t scream creately lazy, than I don’t know what will. Also that frog thing in Eden’s zero is actuaally better giveen the fact he’s not mind bending away personality, he’s forcibly turning them in statues to do with what he pleases against their will.

Im not saying this cause im anti ecchi or that im anti  mashima, im anti such a hack story writting device that weather you stuck it out as a fan of erza’s till the end of FT or liked her at first but than soured on her, I ask, would you tolerate this? I’m not claiming ownership of the character of Erza, but I am asking do you think that this is worth a character arc because our author couldn’t think of anything better to do with her. You know if you knew Erza was so strong,Ad that in actuality she would sweep away most threats, why did you bring her? I honestly would’ve preferred Jellal and Erza being out of the action cause they had a kid or something. Erza having to pick between biological family and her guild family seems like a better direction to take her character in than this.

To see Erza cry because someone’s magic made her into a slave is so lacking in power than say the sheer emotional weight of watching simon die. Like this is shit is just awful.

We cut to Luccy and here is where I get to credit thee art. Sure Lucy is in a bikini, but what matters in frame is the wounds on her legs. Which is a nice us of having aa skimpy dress and not sexualizing it.

We get a flashback of Lucy realizing Kyriaa took her friends and this is where I give Caramille a big fuck you. Oh sure, this did happen after they showed up, but Diabolos clearly was going to find the place eventually and more importantly, you did fuck all. Like, go screw cause you have contributed literally nothing.

We find out that there is another ship in the area and that Gray is okay because he was saved by you can guess who...

Okay on the one hand, this definitely seems like Brandish’s kind of entrance, but on the other. Fuck you, Hiro. Like she just passed by and saved Gray? Hw? The entire ocean was either freezing or evaporating, what is your range? Also, who is in charge of Alverez? Yajeel? Oi...

Post Chapter Follow up: Its easy to say why I don’t like this chapter. I feel so sick by the sheer amount of laziness and disgust in the slave Erza plot. Like, my god this is so wrong. Not because of the subject, human slavery makes sense in a series aimed at teenagers, but the sheer disrespect that Hiro treated this character, made my blood boil. At the very least in Alvarez, Erza still seemed like she was the same character from beginning of the series.

People who follow me weekly on this review series are probably going to ask when I will stop harping on this Erza thing. Well each week, it  somehow get worse and more gross.  First time it felt like a cheap win, second it was bad use of domination, now this is full blown fetish material.

As for the brandish thing, I know why she is here, Lucy is literally not strong enough to handle 3 DE’s by herself with a few exceeds, and I’d accept that Brandish reentering the series. But maybe leave out Gray? I guess you could say that this is a subversion of the Musica captured by Doryu, but this feels lazier. You could’ve just made this a big “step up Lucy plot,” but no, had to save Gray, even though Skullion should’ve notice when his magic didn’t actually ash up Gray. Plus think about, if they save save Natsu and Wendy this arc and beat these three dragon eaters, wouldn’t some added bit of tension to the quest be finding diablos’s hideout and saving Gray from the “dinner table?”And I was cool with the kidnapped gray thing, but no, we had to have kidnapped everyone else.Also if he was made small how did he survive the water? Like he’s the size of a pin, he’d drown.

Now the stuff with Laxus and Jellal is actually fairly good Its an interesting take on FTs standards vs the consequences of their past when we are suppose to be rooting for Touka to be extracted. And involving two characters that really have been in the moral gray spectrum make them the most qualified for this subject matter. While i definitely didn’t like the Touka plot at first from how disconnected it was from everything (and it really is kinda shoed in on this point) it still is the more interesting plot. It has more intresting ideas than, “more dragons” and is involving the characters that come off as the most interesting.

Final Verdict: 3/10

There is clearly some interesting idea at work here

However, the way the plotline for the dragon portion of this arc has become a mess

I don’t use this phrase lightly, “Erza literally deserves better than this”

Plot convince playhouse at its finest

[michaelfftv]

When I’m out shooting, people will  ask- what are you doing, who are you doing that for, or what’s your favorite thing to shoot, or what do you like about photography?

37th VA Para Games, Rugby Championship

37th VA Para Games, Rugby Championship

37th VA Para Games, Rugby Championship

37th VA Para Games, Rugby Championship

These multiple questions, I find, are invariably all inquiring about the same thing, which is, why do I chose to spend my time practicing this arcane art?

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For the truth be told, pretty much all serious still photography- by which I mean photography not taken by a mobile phone, or with a selfie stick; or by someone who actually knows and cares about such terms as composition, tone and lighting- is by common consensus, in 2017, arcane.

  The truth of this sweeping statement is in the bottom line- consider this excerpt from a recent article by Peta Pixel:

Nikon dropped a couple of very troubling bombshells today. The first was a “Recognition of Extraordinary Loss” due to company-wide restructuring; the second was the cancellation of the much-delayed series of Nikon DL compact cameras announced in February of 2016.

The news is basically all bad for Nikon fans today, but even if you ignore the business side, it’s never a good sign when a company gives up on a camera series they already announced—and then delayed… and delayed… and delayed again. The DL series was supposed to be Nikon’s answer to popular premium point-and-shoots like Sony’s RX100 and RX10 series, and now it is officially cancelled.

Such problems exist industry wide and are not limited to Nikon. Such news, of course, also begs any number or other potential arguments- which I’m just going to sidestep here.

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

Rather, I will simply answer the question.  If DSLR’s are passe because there are better solutions, why do I still carry two heavy cameras and a heavy set of lenses- long after newspapers have taken back their photographers professional DSLR’s, riffed them, and passed out cell phones to reporters ?

I still carry DSLR’s because they do make a difference and because that difference is still appreciated. How do I know this? Can I prove this point scientifically? Probably. if I cared enough to do so, which I don’t.

Live kill seminar, Turner Farm, Indian Hil Ohio 5/18/2017

cell phone cameras are not better- although they are, invariably easier to carry and use.  I fully cede the point that we are becoming a cheaper and lazier country by the moment. Yet, as far as I am concerned, DSLR’s are better and worth the hassle for a couple of simple reasons.

First, I need the exercise. I will not for love or money get on a treadmill. I will carry heavy camera gear for long distances.

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

Secondly, if photography with real cameras, have been surpassed in ease and quality by point and shoot models and or cell phones; people would not continue to request or appreciate the images generated by SLR cameras, over point and shoot and cell phone images.

If I show up at local concert or even, for instance. there’s a reason, the owner of the venue , or the tour manager will let me into the event- and give me great seats or premium access- without paying the same twenty thirty or fifty dollar, or One Hundred dollar admission fee he’s charging everyone else.  And even if you do get in, it’s really unlikely your going to get the kind of access needed to get shots like this.

Third,  my most persuasive remaining arguments for practicing this dark art are, and have always been, selfish; and DSLR’s serve my own selfish ends.

Why do I shoot? What do I like to shoot, why bother hauling this stuff around?

North Side Fourth Of July  Parade

My answer goes back to a drunken night in college. I was on the front porch of our collegiant home with my close friend Bruce.  We were having a long existential conversation- which we were want to do when we were in our cups.

Cutting to the chase I asked Bruce point black, “What do you want out of life?”

“Man,” he said,” I just want to do everything once.”

This response seemed to me so worthy and wise, that I adopted his goal as mine. Not only did I adopt that goal, I have kept that goal.

The Magic Flute, Piano Dress Rehearsal, Cincinnati Opera.

  It’s a goal I’ve gleefully pursued for nearly thirty years now. It is not, mind you, an easy, or entirely happy, voyage. Such a quest invariably involves, as the great troubadour Alejandro Escavedo has noted,  more miles than money,  and sometimes heartbreak.

Such a journey is also logistically difficult as there are- for instance- many places for which one either lacks a plausible reason for being in that place; or, sometimes, one is barred from exploring various places because the proprietors of those places simply, and reasonably in many cases, do not want strangers snooping around.

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However, if one is careful to learn a dark art, or two, many of those doors swing open. Two of those arts are photography  and writing.  The tools, the arts, of story telling.

People love stories; and, more importantly, people love being the center of a good story. At the end of the day, almost all people like to hear about themselves.  Thus, if you are willing and capable of,  telling stories,  many of those doors will open.

  Pike 27, Northside Yacht Club.

Pike 27, Northside Yacht Club.

Pike 27, Northside Yacht Club.

Pike 27, Northside Yacht Club.

This is why invariably tell people that I write (another dying art) and shoot because all too often my magical camera will change from a camera into a key or invitation. Many times a good camera and a set of proven skills with grant you entree into a place even when money will not.

And do DSLR’s tell better stories?   Yes, but the argument doesn’t really even matter.  The important thing is that most people believe as such.

Grayson Highlands State Park, Virgina

Grayson Highlands State Park, Virgina

Grayson Highlands State Park

North Carolina Mountains

North Carolina Mountains

North Carolina Mountains

North Carolina Mountains

Grayson Highlands State Park, Virgina

It’s a bitter sweet truth that life is too short to allow me to reach my goal- or even come close- but that doesn’t mean trying to reach that goal is mostly bittersweet or melancholy. Quite the contrary.

In the last 8 weeks, I have Photographed the 37th annual  Veteran’s Annual Paraplegic Games, specifically the Wheelchair Rugby Championships and Closing Ceremonies. The large ballroom shots above are the Closing Ceremonies.

Pike 27, Northside Yacht Club.

There were thousands of vets from across the country who attended. To qualify for the games you have to have been rendered a quadriplegic while in service of your country. These folks have every reason in the world to feel sorry for themselves, but instead they strap themselves into modified wheelchairs and act as if they are part of a human demolition derby. I played twenty years of rugby and am qualified to say, these guys are studs.

So the next time you hear some fool, in Washington, crapping out his or her mouth about who is a hero, you might want to spend some time with these men and women. I was truly honored to be able to do this shoot.

North Carolina Mountains

Sometimes, the best shoots, like the Para Games, provide serious personal and real world perspective.

I also attended a seminar about humane killing practices of animals. You can read about that almost life changing experience here.

I also covered, for about the sixth time, the Northside 4th of July Parade– which had implications, for me, far beyond a simple communal expression of patriotism.

I was also fortunate to cover the opening of the Herzog Music Store, at 811 Race Street in Cincinnati. This store, will will serve to aid the reclamation of  historic Herzog Studios – which is located on the floor above, as well as sponsoring other events key to the retelling of Cincinnati’s great musical history.

I attended three concerts, including seeing friends in Pike 27 and also seeing a pretty inspirational show by Steve Earle. Being able to cover a show like Earle’s in a beautiful theater is like taking a master’s class in performance and storytelling.

I also documented a recent road trip to the very heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, as well as a trip to nearby Grayson Highland’s State Park in Virginia.

I also covered for Polly Magazine, the piano dress rehearsal of Mozart’s The Magic Flute. Catch my coverage of same, here, to learn why this production was sch a memorable, and groundbreaking event.

I love the Opera. The Cincinnati Opera is a very kid and professional organization, This is the third time they have allowed me to shoot the dress rehearsal, which means, in essence, that except for thirty to fifty other people- we are provided the run of the house and are free to shoot, at will, from anywhere in the house. It’s always a special experience and not one that can be bought at any price. If you haven’t seen it before, here is a collaborative piece I did with my brother in art, Matt Steffen, about the Opera’s performance last year of Tosca.

Unknown Hinson- Southgaate House Revival, Newport Ky

Unknown Hinson- Southgaate House Revival, Newport Ky

Unknown Hinson- Southgaate House Revival, Newport Ky

Unknown Hinson- Southgaate House Revival, Newport Ky

Unknown Hinson- Southgaate House Revival, Newport Ky

Unknown Hinson- Southgaate House Revival, Newport Ky

The photographs in this essay are from the last eight weeks and are colorful examples of how my camera has taken me into diverse and sundry worlds and experiences, I would have never seen, save for my practice of  these dark arts.

  Steve Earl and the Dukes, Taft Theater Cin.

Steve Earl and the Dukes, Taft Theater Cin.

Steve Earl and the Dukes, Taft Theater Cin.

Steve Earl and the Dukes, Taft Theater Cin.

Steve Earl and the Dukes, Taft Theater Cin.

Steve Earl and the Dukes, Taft Theater Cin.

  Thus the dream still lives and the dream justifies all. Thanks Bruce.

            Eight Weeks of Summer 2017 When I'm out shooting, people will  ask- what are you doing, who are you doing that for, or what's your favorite thing to shoot, or what do you like about photography?

[emotionsfeelings]

Sick of my country

I know it's necessary to take a step back (or a many fews) from something (task, place) and/or someone. It helps give perspective. Helps make something becomes clearer. But I dont like what I see now and I can't unsee it.

When have more of us Singaporean become so so unkind to each other? To be so selfish about our personal space and what we want that we brashly bump into people and dont turn back to apologise. To jibe into someone's walking space although it's so small when theres a much bigger one if you just walk behind someone to get to the other side? To have countless of kindness and civil responsibilities signs on buses and the streets as if to remind (perhaps educate) us to be kind?

When have we become so, so cold to each other? That to say a hello, or even a smile, is better not to do. To be engaged on our phones during couples dinner (!!!) or even family dinner at restaurants? To let our children play with electronic gadgets because it's easier than to watch them and then wonder why they're hard to understand?

Did we realise we're taking current conveniences as a norm and making us lazier? Things like food delivery services in this small country? To have 24 hour food deliverybservixes instead of going out to find? To have a shuttle to take us to our condos (when there's a bus stop less than 50m near it)? To take a bus or train instead of walking for 15-20mins to get somewhere (then have HPB advocating more walking time or healthier living)?

To have our plays mostly about intellectual subjects instead of universal themes (this is all in the context and situation of the play)? To not make literature and the arts compulsory subjects in schools throughout the levels because they won't contribute much to the economy as the sciences and finance industries when we know it adds value to the education and overall personhood development? To have 5 million companies selling the same thing in this small country so they can suck money from us with stuff we dont need but desire (necessity vs luxury) and to confuse us by buzzwords and new info on beauty and health products?

This country is really becoming a place for business with service staff at tourists and investors disposal (yes I refer to practically all businesses). Some people call this home because it's where friends and families are at. But what kind of relationship do we have with people? An electronic one?

I got reminded by Barbra Streisand's song, People,

"People,

People who need people,

Are the luckiest people in the world

We're children, needing other children

And yet letting a grown-up pride

Hide all the need inside

Acting more like children than children

Lovers, very special people

They're the luckiest people in the world

With one person (one person)

One very special person (one very special person)

A feeling deep in your soul (in your soul)

Says you were half now you're whole

No more hunger and thirst

First be a person who needs people

People who need people

Are the luckiest people in the world

No more hunger or thirst

First be a person who needs people (people need people)

People who need people

Are the luckiest (luckiest) people in the world

People who need people in the world

People who need people (send them your love)

Who need people

People who need people in the world (people who need people)

Send them your love (oh those people)

People who need people in the world (people who need people)

(Send them your love)

(People who need people in the world) people who need people

(Send them your love) people

People who need people in the world

(Send them your love)"

Besides the possible capitalist reading of exploiting people of this song, she reminds us to constantly be a people-first person. How many of us immediately know what that means? I thought so.

[sleepysplace]

the future

When i was a kid i was told that if i just kept “learning” the useless bullcrap fed by me at school and just be a good boy that i would just get a job and have monies, all my parents said all the time is “study and get money” and it seemed allright at the time since i was okay at it so i never really worried about it.

Now here i am, 22 years old, after 3 years doing nothing im stuck in fucking limbo with no guarantee of nothing, no job, no school and no employment.

I tried so hard to become an artist at the beggining but i had no direction, no instruction so all i could do is search around the internet and draw whatever i could. I really got invested in the idea, seeing some people that succeeded and being inspired by them i just kept going hoping everything will be allright as long as i just keep going and dont give up but it turned out i never found the direction i sought and never really improved that much and slowly i drew less and less and lost my hopes.

Now im trying to just figure out everything again. What should i do? Where do i go? I should try tech, oh wait! Tech is actually for passionate people you are going to get utterly fugged if you try to “get into” it but you cant live with art either cuz you suck at it plus its juts so risky and hard to market but hey! Gotta follow dat passion, thats the only thing thats gonna pay but WAIT! This is just a pipe dream you aint gonna profit with that BUT WAIT! YOU CAN DO IT JUST KEEP GOING A BIT MORE! But...

See? Thats the agony that has been overflowing my head for the past three years, i have been trying, doing this nearly everyday, trying to find a way out of that loop, and dont bother saying: “Just do anything convenient you come acrosss with, dont think about what you want” I already tried, massive waste of time and money, thanks, i dont think my parents are very happy with that.

My grandma, who has been supporting me ever since i was a baby just broke part of her ribcage a few weeks ago, now im alone in this apartment just lying and doing nothing hoping something will save me of this endless loop of misery.

My time is clearly running short, i cant lie to mom abouit college anymore, neither can i keep living like this.

The thing is you need to have a place in society, do something for it so it can give something back to you, but most options out there are the equivalent of selling your soul to the devil, make whats convenient at the time but live with eternal punishment. Pick a random job that pays the bills, makes you miserable, you never climb up to the higher ranks, if you do, you will barely have time to spend your sweaty money and so much stress you will spend all of it geting rid of the consequences of your stress.

So you try to pick a job that is not so stressful, makes you happy and pays the bills, maybe not the perfect job but something you can handle, yet nothing appears. Every path seems to lead to misery one way or another, i can lie to myself and say “well thats just life...well i can just do this..” but one time or the other the emotional reality is going to hit.But if not the emotional than maybe the physical reality will hit as well, after all, you need money to pay the bills.

Some friends tell me that i just should keep going but honestly, what can i do? keep drawing random shit and wait for something to happen? It has been three years, nothing happened, some people say you should just do what you love until the money comes but i cant wait, i need money, i need to get out of this house, get away from my mom and build my own life, then maybe i can focus on art.

If i ever have a kid im never going to tell them “Just study and maek money durr” sure, that might work by chance but what if it doesnt? Its easy to blame the fucking kid and say “Well, you are just dumb and lazy” but really there is nothing lazier than just letting out a bankrupt education system do all the parenting and education for you. All of these books that he is cramming get good grades will be just as useless as the video game he plays or whatever the fuck.

“studying” doesnt teach you shit, because its not actually studying, its just memorization of useless shit, and no matter how much you deny, this is reality, no employer cares for your geography grades, neither does the world. Teach your kids new interesting things, anything, programming, robotics, art, religion just any fucking thing that might be interesting or useful, incentivate them to pursue what they are good at and what they like, teach them about the ACTUAL world, not about a prision isolated from reality and yes, im talking about that fucking place you put them 5-8 hours not their fucking bedroom.

Well im ranting about education properly another time, i gotta fucking sleep, them maybe i can write some more. 

[trevorbarre]

One important aspect of vinyl - track order

What prompted this particular blog was my listening to Jethro Tull’s second LP, Stand Up. I am particularly fond of Side Two, Track Three, entitled We Used To Know, which features some scorching guitar playing from the band’s then-new member, my first cousin, Martin Barre. I’ve loved this rather mournful rock-out ever since I first heard it, when Martin gave a  copy to the 14-year old version of me.

Now, this isn’t going to be about how I have rediscovered my 14-year-old inner prog rock self (even though the genre appears to have regained some cachet over the past few years). No, what prompted this latest outpouring was the whole notion of Side One, Track Three itself, and its companions, from Side One, Track One onward. Why relegate the strongest number (imho) to the matrical dead zone of the middle of the second side? Not that it matters in these days of self-programming, but it did make me think about the art of track sequencing, whether done by the artist(s), producer, manager or whoever. Is it a moribund skill in  modern times? Without this becoming a sort of “most perfect no- filler at all” list of great albums, I must here suggest that there is probably an ur-album Platonic ideal in most older music fan’s minds of what constitutes the perfect album structure in rock/pop music - maybe 5/6 tracks per side, each lasting 3/4 minutes (perhaps, as in The Clash and Police & Thieves,, with one track coming in at a much longer duration for added heft?). The total time lasting no more than 45 minutes at the outside.

This vanishing art is highlighted by the phenomenon of the box set compilation/completist document, where tracks are re-sequenced into chronological order, with the accompanying loss of architectonic structure that the original LPs provided - some obvious examples, from the jazz end of things, are the sets of Impulse Coltrane’s, Riverside Monk’s and Atlantic Coleman’s, all superb artifacts in themselves, but we thereby lose the original matrix of such classics as My Favorite Things, Brilliant Corners and The Shape of Jazz to Come. Rock compilations tend to be lazier and less bothered by detail, but the point is well made.

Another contention would be that this art became coarsened in the CD age, by excessive length of albums and tracks therein lasting up to 80 minutes of material. Albums of these sort of lengths will inevitably contain filler. Nowadays when I prime up a CD (yes, I still use ‘em), I inwardly have a sigh of relief when the digital display indicates 45 minutes or under, especially under 40.

But would it have made a better album ultimately, if We Used To Know was Side One, Track Five, the last on that half of the platter? Somehow, I doubt it. Album programmers really knew their stuff in those days.

[childrencryinncoffee-blog]

Alcohol Was Invented by the Gods...for Parents

Today it's finally clicked for me, why there's so many memes and posts dedicated to Moms and their love of wine, or alcohol in general.

I am tired. I am chronically bitchy and irritable and stuck within 4 walls with 5 kids. Their personalities are as wildly varied as their ages; from newborn to teenager and I don't know how to parent each of them individually. You'd think, after being a mother for nearly 14 years, I'd be a veteran, I'd have this shit pat down.

Sure, being a SAHM is one of the toughest jobs a parent can have, and true, it can be rewarding, but at the same time it can be psychologically damaging. The constant arguing, bribing, negotiating, demanding...and that's all AFTER the civil conversations. My issues vary amongst the kiddos too; one refuses to do her chores correctly or just doesn't do them, another half-asses them and I have to go 'round and clean up what they supposedly cleaned and the other 2 just refuse to do their ACTUAL chores in favor of doing the easy things that'll earn them points on their chore chart. My oldest is lazy, which, I wish if I were as lazy as her, I wish I could be as thin as her. My son, though he is INCREDIBLY helpful and always asking me if I need anything; has a habit of forgetting to do things, things that are specifically spelled out in his chore folder. Then the little girls; they throw each other under the bus for playing rather than cleaning and they get distracted by EVERYTHING.

I didn't grow up as spoiled as my kids are. I didn't have Wifi and Social media. I didn't have smartphones, tablets, a DS, a PS4/PS3/PS2/Wii and Rockband equipment. I didn't have huge flatscreens with cartoons and DVR'ed episodes of the shows I loved. It took nearly a decade and a half before I had my own room; I almost always bunked with my little sister who's about 7 years my junior and we clashed all the time. I didn't have a bike, or rollerblades, or all the fun outdoor toys. And I sure as hell didn't have a huge 50x30 sized playroom FULL of hundreds of thousands of dollars of the coolest, most requested toys. I had books and paper to write on and had to ask permission to walk to the local library, where I'd spend hours of my free time.

And all I ask these kids to do is help out and keep their rooms clean. And even with their help; I STILL have a a lot to do daily myself. Laundry, especially the laundry, with 7 people, it's never ending. The bulk of my days are spent loading laundry to wash, starting the dryer, nursing a baby, folding laundry, putting it away, starting another load, drying another and nursing a baby again. And sprinkled in between those hours are dusting, making beds, straightening up, fixing the couch, picking random shit up off the floor, going through the always-present mountain of mail and school paperwork and bills. I wash the dishes and then wash the baby's accessories and by then someone needs to be nursed again. And I'm expected to not only find time to READ a book, but write 2 myself, as well as maintain a blog AND do my school studies? No wonder my blood is at least 50% caffeine.

Maybe having my mother move in would be a good idea, but after a long and thorough conversation with her and Derrick and the kids. Because sometimes her harping on my kids is far more of a hindrance to me than helpful. And I don't want my kids resenting me the way I did my mom for the longest time. But maybe her being here would allow me to focus on school like I should, and she could help me with a few of my chores when I'm busy with the baby--but I wouldn't blur the line between grandma and housekeeper. I hate being treated like a housekeeper, so I wouldn't do that to my mom. And who knows, maybe it'll be easier this time because my sister and her kids aren't here. It was a bitch trying to maintain this house with the three of them here, because she was lazier than Evelyn, didn't pay rent and ate up all my food and towards the end, I easily dropped a hundred or two on packs of cigarettes for her. WTF she was so stressed about beats me, if anything I could've used the $200 worth of cigarettes for my anxiety and stress, let alone poor Derrick who was keep all of us afloat.

But then another part of me worries about having my mom here. I become of two minds when she's around. She's the last parent I have left; after my dad choosing to not be a part of my life and Stephanie dying, so I try to maintain a relationship with my mom, because she's technically all I have left. But when she's here and she's either yelling at my kids or berating them to me; she doesn't recognize the repetitive exhaustion on my face from being tired of hearing the same "you're not a good enough mother and if these were my kids..." speeches. And at the same time, I'm so used to her yelling and berating from my childhood that I either ignore it or I tend to harp along with her to my kids. And I'm both a stressed out 32 year old mother of 5 who can't get her kids to listen, and she's grateful for the help...and then I'm also that 11 year old again, who's trying her hardest to be an Honor Roll student and keep a clean house just to "please" my mother.

Why the fuck do I do that?

And then she has the habit of making it worse by talking on and on about her workouts at Curves and how she's using this new weightloss pill and that weightloss pill and how these WorkIt Wraps are a Godsend and blah, blah, blah. And I'm like TRYING to get my mental and emotional shit in order so I can work on my physical appearance, but to literally have EVERY conversation stream from my kids' inabilities to clean properly to how I need to lose weight since she has, is really fucking damaging to my psyche.

And after I'm stressed out from trying to man my house, do chores, be a dairy-cow for a baby on demand, and try to parent my other 4 kids whom are capable of cleaning and following directions, to being a cook who's responsible for at least 2 meals a day, to dealing with guilt trips from my mom and her not respecting my mental boundaries with my grandfather and her constant pressuring to FORGIVE him so he can see my kids, to her bitching about my kids to me making me feel like a shit mother, to her going on and on about diets and pills and wraps and Curves and then her transition to shit about Keyre and then somehow she's bitching about Robert and the shit he took from her, to me needing to nurse again and swap the laundry again, then arguing with the kids about why their rooms aren't clean and it's 20 minutes till bedtime and showers need to be taken and there's more laundry and I'm counting down the minutes until Derrick gets home, so I can clock out...but then guilt hits and rather than "clock out" I make a drink and I UNLOAD all my stress of the day onto him.

I don't expect him to fix everything; but I married a smart man and damn; all this shit every day makes me hella indecisive and I'm left between a rock and a hard place.

I am struggling at this parenting thing.

I am struggling at this being an adult woman thing.

I am struggling at this being a wife thing.

Now that it's summer, I'm hoping like hell it'll get a bit easier. Done, for now, are the 5am alarms. So no morning madness rushing while sleep-deprived. I can nurse at 4am and go back to bed if Ivy allows me to. Hopefully I can finally tend to the personal goal list I made myself. I want to go to the gym and at least run on the treadmill for 30 minutes a day; listening to music, not newborn screams or little girls fighting over their Troll hairbrush. I'd like some help with the laundry; I don't mind washing and drying, but can someone else at least fold? And I don't mind doing the dishes; if someone else puts them away.

These kids have so many expectations this summer; from trips to the Great Wolf Lodge, Seaworld, the beach and hella activities...and my expectations? A clean house in case company comes over, where I'm not rushing to clean an hour before their expected to arrive and I'm a fucking bloody sweaty mess when they get here and I can't relax. I want time to READ an actual book. And yes, I expect a fucking getaway with my husband this summer, without the kids, because I am with them ALL THE TIME and he works so fucking hard to provide for us that he deserves to PLAY with some of his money, not just WORK all the damn time. 6 to sometimes 7 days a week, sometimes pulling 36 hour shifts, as a driver is fucking deadly for him. I am truly paranoid about it--but he does it to pay for the internet, the food, the electronics, a fresh supply of art and craft shit and so many other things the kids don't fathom.

Today is one of those days; where as soon as Derrick left for work, the baby became inconsolable and nothing I did calmed her down, until 3 hours later, I think she passed out due to exhaustion and screaming. The AC is still broke and it's over a 100 degrees here. I am pouring buckets while sitting here typing this AND I'm sippin' on an icy drink. The girls (ALL of them) haven't cleaned their rooms and I made the mistake of gifting Evelyn back her iPhone yesterday, in agreement that she'd keep her room clean--that worked out gleefully (sarcasm). Maverick is the only one who did his chores without asking AND he asked me if I needed anything else. There's still laundry, even though I've already done 6 loads today. But the garage is like a sauna and I'm trying to avoid it at all costs; but I tore our bed apart, to wash the sheets and blankets in Dreft...so I have to tend to the laundry whether or not I actually want to.

So I get it, moms who enjoy their wine. Except I need something with a higher proof.

But I can't get drunk or even buzzed, because I REFUSE to dip into my freezer stash of breast milk. That is SOLELY for when Derrick and I go away to Costa Rica later this summer and I am NOT fucking up my supply!

So I'm sippin' on my weak ass Mai Tai that's far more juice than rums and I say CHEERS to all the SAHP that are dealing with similar shit, just a different day. We'll figure this out eventually. And hopefully they'll clean up their fire hazard of a bedroom before they actually become fire hazards. Cheers!  

[vileart]

The Revlon Dramaturgy: Neil Anthony Docking @ Edfringe 2017

The Revlon Girl  Pontardawe Arts Centre has been awarded a grant from The Arts Council of Wales to take this critically acclaimed production, written by Neil Anthony Docking and directed by Maxine Evans, to the Edinburgh Festival this August.  

The show will open at ‘The Assembly Roxy’ and run throughout the Festival from 2nd-28th August 2017.

Set eight months following the death of 116 children during the Aberfan Disaster of 1966, The Revlon Girl tells the real life story of a group of bereaved mothers who met every week above a local hotel to talk, cry and even laugh without feeling guilty.  At one of their meetings, the women looked at each other and admitted how much they felt they’d let themselves go.  So afraid that people would think them frivolous, they secretly arranged for a representative from Revlon to come and give them a talk on beauty tips.

Answers given by Neil Anthony Docking- writer and producer 

What was the inspiration for this performance? It was a few lines in a book written in the 1970s that discussed the psychological effects of a truly horrible tragedy that happened in 1966- a few lines that, even on the page, seemed like a throwaway point to illuminate a larger one. But for me, those few lines just leapt off the page... And I realized I’d found a way of telling the story of the Aberfan Disaster. Fifty years on, the Aberfan Disaster is still difficult to believe. It occurred in a tiny Welsh mining village in 1966 when a tip comprising of colliery waste- one of seven tips sited on the mountain above the village of Aberfan- slipped suddenly one morning at 9.15am. 150,000 tonnes of rock, debris, mud & water hurtled down the mountainside in a terrifying avalanche traveling at 30ft per second.  First it engulfed a farmhouse, killing all the occupants; then it hit a disused canal, tore up a water main, demolished a row of houses, hit the outer walls of a senior school and ploughed directly into a junior school. 28 adults and 116 children were killed; most of them perishing at their school-desks. It happened on the 21st October 1966- a Friday- the last day before half-term. 

In the aftermath of the disaster the Tribunal established that the tip should not have been there in the first place and repeated warnings from the school, the headmistress, district officials and local people went unheeded.  Worse was to come when demands to have the remaining 6 tips cleared were met with a recalcitrant Labour government and an immovable National Coal Board. Between them, they made a deal to fund some of the cost but with the rest meant to come from ‘local interests’. They meant the thousands of donations made to the Disaster Appeal Fund.  In an impossible position, the village agreed that £150,000 (approx £1.7Million now) should be taken and used to make up the shortfall in the Government finances and clear the remaining tips.  Like many Welsh people of my generation and background, I grew up with this story. My father worked in the steelworks and my grandfather was a miner, so the story was particularly close to us.  Having said that, anyone over the age of forty will know about it- it was a global news-story at the time- as it was one of the first disasters to be covered on television in the 1960s. Which is why the disaster appeal fund received so many donations and caused such outrage when money was taken to clear up the mess that belonged to the nationalized coal authority and the government.  In 1997, the new Labour government returned that donated money to the village and the Disaster Fund. At this time, I was working as a writer on a TV drama series and suggested to the Head of Drama that the Aberfan Story kind of had an ‘ending’ – at least there was a point of closure- and that we should do it; mainly because it was, and is, a story worth telling.  He refused point blank; telling me that this story could never be told- such was the strength of feeling and the sensitivity of the subject matter; nobody would want the idea and I should drop it. So naturally, for a person in my position, I had little choice but to ignore him completely and begin researching the subject for myself.  I planned a television screenplay that would take in the scale of this story and chart one of the worst disasters in British history. It took a few years but- once finished- the screenplay was turned down by every broadcaster in the UK.  So that was that. Except it wasn’t: when researching the subject I had come across a few lines in a book by Joan Millar that discussed the social and psychological effects- and I read about a group of bereaved mothers who used to meet each week to talk, to cry and even laugh without feeling guilty. At one of the meetings the women looked at each other and admitted how much they felt they’d let themselves go.  But afraid of being judged frivolous they had done little about it; and so- secretly- they arranged for a representative from Revlon to come and give them beauty tips. And in truth this story made me chuckle: in all the thousands of pages of harrowing detail I’d read over the years – from Tribunal minutes to testimony given by parents; from teachers’ witness statements to secret Government papers made public- this was the first time I had smiled: simply because I wondered how it must have felt to be the Revlon girl.  The disaster was a world-wide event; it was incomprehensibly tragic- 116 children had died; so many people had suffered terrible loss and, at some point following the tragedy, a young woman had been asked to go and give a make-up demonstration to the mothers of the dead children. In her mind, she must have thought: “What the hell am I going to say to these people?!”. And that was the inspiration. That was my starting point. In time, I had a play. And within it I realized I’d stumbled upon something that should have been obvious to me from the start: in order to tell a very big story, sometimes you have to make it very small.  Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas?  No, not really- well, at least not in the way it has come to mean. Performance- theatrical or otherwise- should be less concerned with discussing ideas and more concerned with telling a story. For through a good story, ideas can be formed. (Provided the story is a good one and is in possession of, literally, a point!).  And not just about the events being played out in front of you either; but rather, allowing you to form ideas about your own life. A story can and should allow those watching to form ideas about the way they live, how they deal with their circumstances or how they might have responded to the same tragedy. In many respects the basic function of a story should be to tell us who we are.  Through a story we should first find meaning. An idea is either judged ‘good’ or ‘bad’- but life isn’t the same. Rather than knowing ‘is my life good?’ or ‘is my life bad?’ most people would prefer to know ‘what does it mean?’.  For example, The Revlon Girl is first and foremost a true story. The event on which it is based- the women who met- is real; the facts as reported actually happened; we follow the stories of the fictional women on stage, set against the terrible tragedy that has befallen them. However, the themes the play explores - those elements in a story that stand apart from the events themselves; that allows us all to get to some fundamental truths- are to do with grief, beauty, indifference, judgment and indeed the resilience and frailty human spirit.  These things apply to everyone equally but also differently. Of course these things are also ideas in themselves but without a story – a series of connected events that moves through time- they are abstract notions that do nothing- and are essentially inert and devoid of meaning. How much easier (and lazier) would it have been for me to write a play that expressed the central idea that said: ‘Isn’t it terrible that this thing happened’? And the answer would be ‘of course, yes!’; but that’s all there would be to it.  By telling the story in the way we do, the audience gets to understand something beyond the tragedy. (E.M. Forster once wrote: ‘The King died and the Queen died is an incident. The King died and the Queen died of a broken heart is a story…’). Almost more importantly, through the story an audience can become ‘awakened’ to the reasons why such tragedies occurs and perhaps become ‘armed’ against a similar tragedy happening again. (Though there is no coal industry in the UK anymore, there are other things such as fracking and the nuclear industry- two areas that are potentially hazardous; especially if we wholly trust assurances of those in authority, as Aberfan did).  However, if all the play was concerned with was discussing the idea that ‘this should not happen again’ then that would be fine but I wouldn’t expect the audience to care whether it happens again. And that’s the difference with ‘The Revlon Girl’- you really do care about what happened and in particular you care about these women. Moreover you care about what happened to them subsequently (or, to put it another way, where the story ends). In other words, they care what happens to them after the lights go down and the play is over. The story does that, not the ideas. And a story is not the same as an event. It’s not enough to write about an event because it’s dramatic, or historic or just plain interesting. A story should be so much more. For example, the story of the Titanic is told not because a big ship sank, but because the rich were allowed to get into the lifeboats. That’s the meaning; that’s what the audience takes away.  With something like ‘Calendar Girls’ the meaning isn’t that women took off their clothes, but in the reason why they did it. ‘The Revlon Girl’ is the same- it’s not because children died at the hands of a colliery tip that gives it meaning, it’s that people knew the tip was slipping. It’s that element- along with how the characters react to it- that gives the story meaning. To feel something, you have to identify with characters, not with ideas. You have to have empathy and sympathy, antipathy and disgust towards and for the characters presented on stage- their dilemmas their fears their loves- which become your dilemmas, your fears and your loves. And through that you can truly get to an idea. Something that people take away with them and into their own lives.  And that’s when any meaningful discussion of an idea can begin. And that’s more difficult to pull off than it sounds- because what you need to make people feel something is really good actors, an imaginative director, a blinding script and yes, a good story. So I guess what I’m saying (and probably could have said it quicker) if you really want to discuss ideas then become a philosopher, or an engineer or even a politician. If you want to tell stories, become a dramatist How did you become interested in making performance? If you mean generally, then it’s a really good question that is almost impossible for me to know for sure. But if I was to take a stab at it, then I guess it’s a cliché I’m afraid (and not to labour the earlier question) but I think it comes down to an over-riding need to tell you a story - which I think it would be fair to say goes for everyone else involved in ‘The Revlon Girl’.  I suspect in part it comes from when I was a kid: there were those in my family who liked nothing better than to tell a joke or a funny story or something dramatic that happened. And it didn’t matter how big the audience was (but naturally the bigger the better).  So perhaps it’s even more than telling a story- I think I have a need to entertain: it’s clearly not enough for me just to tell you the story, I have to grab you with it and not let you go! So naturally that means tapping into all kinds of emotions. Which probably explains the shape and style of The Revlon Girl and why it has appealed to so many people thus far.  I think it comes down to the fact that- in order to tell the story effectively- we’d have to make it, yes- heartbreaking, but also at times very funny (in fact, so many comments from audiences have been ‘it’s an emotional rollercoaster’). This allows the audience ‘in’ so to speak and under the skin of these characters; simply because they are all 3-dimensional and go through a whole range of emotions: so they suffer loss, but also triumph; they feel pain but also hope; they know despair but also courage.

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show? Our basic approach to everything we do is to give the audience the very best: not just in terms of the script or story, but also the acting, the direction, the music, the lighting- everything. People are not only giving us their time, but their money and so they deserve our hardest work and our best efforts.  They also deserve something memorable. And to get that right we know that we have to put the work in. (The artistic approach to each show or project will always be different and in truth we never know what that is until we, well, know what it is). In terms of approaching ‘The Revlon Girl’ we are aiming – and at the risk of sounding horribly pretentious- for a kind of ‘purity’.  And by that I mean an authenticity; a faithfulness, if you like; we want audiences to feel like they’re watching the real thing. This play is at times- like its subject- extremely raw; and therefore anything extraneous, or gimmicky would be wrong. So in the same way the story is raw and unflinching, so is the production.  It really all comes down to the lines and the acting, and immersing the audience in what’s going on.  You often hear playwrights eager for their audiences to ‘think’. That’s too passive for me; I want them to ‘feel’. I want them to laugh and cry- I want them to cheer with triumph and shake their heads in despair.  So everything we do is towards that end. Everything about the show is about that. The actors are some of the best I’ve ever worked with- and their commitment is sometimes overwhelming.  They really do put their guts into each performance. It’s true- audiences come out of a performance exhausted- but so do the cast. (And I’ve seen them do two shows in a day).  Finally, it would be fair to say that this production really does appeal to women. I don’t think it was a conscious thing, and not to say that it doesn’t appeal to men, but it certainly does resonate with women.  Also, it’s a show that has fantastically strong female roles – 5 of them- something that many female actors tell me (and tell newspapers) is sorely lacking in theatre and film. So I’m very proud to be able to say that a) it appeals to women but also b) that it’s a strong piece for a strong actresses. Does the show fit with your usual productions? In many ways, yes: not so much in the subject matter but in our approach to production (i.e. work hard, give your best, offer something memorable). Our background is in all kinds of work: from network TV drama shows, to online comedies to independent British film. But this is the first ‘based on a true story’ project we’ve undertaken which brings with it a special set of considerations. What do you hope that the audience will experience? I hope that the audience will remember the reason why they go to the theatre in the first place. I hope that they’ll emerge with a feeling of hope, but know that sometimes it’s hard earned. I hope that they’ll come out of it knowing much more about the tragedy on which the play is based, but will feel like they’ve absorbed it naturally- almost by accident- rather than being lectured to. Ultimately, I want them to think it was worthwhile. What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience? I know this is stating the obvious but, aside from picking the very best people for this production and ensuring that everyone gives the show their all, it is also worth mentioning that, from the very beginning, were have always been mindful of the fact that, for many people (especially those under the age of 40), the Aberfan Disaster would be something new to them.  The play is therefore presented in a way that allows the audience to learn about the event, but not ‘factually’ as if they were sitting in a history lesson. These things instead are part of the action and the story as it unfolds. In other words, the ‘history’ behind the play is revealed through the characters (who essentially carry the history with them.  Anyone who’s enjoyed Arthur Miller’s ‘The Crucible’ will no doubt say that in the same way you don’t have to know anything about the Salem Witchhunts to understand ‘The Crucible’. It’s all there for you as part of the play. It’s fair to say however that, later, people can find out more about that and indeed McCarthyism later if they wish). And on the point of the audience experience beyond the play it is perhaps saying a few words of how this has worked previously and how I think it’ll work now (which kind of brings us full circle and back to your first question regarding the discussion of ideas). It’s perhaps first worth mentioning that we toured this play in Wales during the 50th Anniversary of the disaster- and very close to where it happened. In fact, many of our audiences were personally involved in what happened so we were always mindful of how it might be received. And amongst that anxiety was always the feeling that we had to do the story justice and tackle the subject head on- and have those other things that are very real in such circumstances such as humour, anger, pettiness, self-interest, warmth and forgiveness.  [We held discussions (Q&As) following some of the Wales performances and will do so again if we can]. So beyond the story of Aberfan itself- there are issues within the play that resonate beyond the disaster itself and indeed the 1960s, and tell us something about today and the current political landscape. Anyone interested in Brexit (or perhaps even Scottish Independence) should come see this play. And by ‘interested’ I mean the people who are perhaps scratching their heads as to the reasons why and how certain communities throughout the UK responded and voted. And this isn’t a partisan ‘for or against’ thing: it’s more about ‘how we got to this point’.  Whatever your views are, one thing you can be sure of: ‘The Revlon Girl’ acutely reminds us of our industrial past, and one that is still present in many communities- working class ones- that feel that they sacrificed much but nonetheless have since been forgotten. And actually it’s more than just being ‘forgotten’ it’s more to do with the ideas of indifference and value. Of course the play doesn’t make this point explicitly – in fact it was written way before the current spate of referenda- but as the play itself moves through current events, it’s kind of taking on a special meaning. In other words, as the political landscape changes, so does the play and I’d be very interested to hear what audiences have to say about what they experience this time.

“Having experienced the huge impact made by The Revlon Girl on its recent Welsh tour the entire team at Pontardawe Arts Centre are delighted that the Arts Council have selected the play to represent Wales in Edinburgh this year.  We are equally excited that we have enabled the play to be viewed on an international stage:  what better way to promote Wales abroad than through its creative artists” Angie Dickinson (Artistic Director – Pontardawe Arts Centre) “We are absolutely thrilled with the backing from the Arts Council Wales and with the chance to work with everyone from Pontardawe Arts again. It’s such a difficult but important subject and a story we think is worth telling beyond the borders of Wales. If the reaction in Edinburgh is half of what it was in Wales last year it’s going to be really something.  Obviously there are 1000s of shows playing at Edinburgh but we think this one has the potential to really stand out. The backing we’ve had gives us a real head-start.  It’s a difficult subject and a terrible episode in Wales’s history, but it’s also a compelling human story told in a unique way. As anyone who saw it last year will know, it’s a story that is about overwhelming loss but it’s also a story of amazing courage, hope and humour.  I think it’ll surprise Edinburgh audiences- wherever they come from in the world.”  Maxine Evans (Director)

from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2pLtO9u

[kampa77-blog]

During the year 1817 – Baron Karl Drais Von Sauerbronn patented what we know know as “The Bicycle”.  He named it the “DRAISINE”.

The Draisine (or Draisienne) had two wheels and a wooden frame with a rotating handlebar attached, which permitted the front wheel to be turned.

Unlike todays bicycles, the Draisine was powered by pushing with your feet along the ground.  Much like the wooden balance bikes used by aspiring cyclists under the age of 5.

Back then bicycled were known by many names;  Hobby Horse or Dandy Horse.  Pedals came about in 1839 when Kirkpatric Macmillan invented the “Velocipede” – otherwise known as a Foot Treadle.

As time went on, a small invention became something massive, taking the world by storm.    Very few children today have ever ridden a bicycle, or know someone that has.  One things for certain – We’ve all seen one.

Today there are many varieties of bikes to choose from including; Road bikes, Cyclocross, touring, triathlon, Flat bar road, track, fixed gear, Mountain, Hybrid, Performance hybrid, Cruiser, flat foot cruiser, City, BMX, Folding, recumbent, Tanden, adult tricycles, hard tail, soft tail and the list goes on.

Making a decision on best suits your style and needs can be as confusing as trying to find a running shoe for every day use.  I’ve tried and its not easy.  For example, a hybrid won’t handle down hill terrain tracks with jumps, and a mountain bike wouldn’t be much use on the road in speed events.  What a marketing dream this is !!!

I remember when BMX first came out.  Finally a bike you ride off the kerb, over rocks and gravel without fearing the tyre coming off the rim.  You could even do tricks like wheelies on them.  I thought I was so cool, until BMX stunt riding took off.  Like “Break Dancing” I quickly realised how untalented I actually was.  My 2 second wheelie couldn’t match the skills of those guys/girls.

Before we knew it, Bikes had 3 speed’s, then 10 speed’s then 12 and 14 and 18 speeds, all make possible by a complex wheel of gears perched on the rear wheel, and usually 3 on the front cog. So with a push of a lever or twist of a handle it was now easier to go up hills.  No longer would you see a cue of school boys/girls pushing their bikes to the top of the hill just so they could ride down it again.

bicycle gears mechanism on the rear wheel

It’s best to find a style you enjoy and stick to it, or buy several bikes, one for each discipline.  This isn’t a cheap exercise mind you.  Especially with some bikes costing upwards of a thousand dollars (at least).

I’ve had my fair share of bikes.  I remember a Scott Triathlon Bike I had for a year.  I sold it when I discovered I wasn’t getting much use out of it, so bought a mountain bike, more suited to what I was doing at the time.  I’d have kept both but aero bars and a smaller front wheel wasn’t an everyday cycling type setup.

With mountain bikes, theres also many options, features and accessories.  The main decision you’ll find is whether to choose a “Hard tail” or a  “Soft tail” bike.  A hard tail has rear suspension to absorb the momentum when traversing undulating terrain or coming off jumps, and a hard tail is a great cross country bike when you need torque to the back wheel while peddling.  An in between bike is a hard tail soft front bike.  A bike that has suspension on the front and not on the back.  This feature absorbs impacts through the handlebars but nothing through the rear, allowing for easier hill climbs and flat surface riding.  confused ??  But wait, theres more.  You also have an option on some bikes to lock the front suspension.  This makes flat surface riding easier as you don’t have the front ducking and bobbing up and down when your trying to pedal while standing up off the seat.

Oh and bikes nowadays have hydraulic disc brakes, not the little rubber pads operated by a lever and cable causing friction against the rim.  The good old days had many many a rider going through a puddle and unable to stop as the rubber brakes were wet.  Fun time I tell you.

  Just when you thought mountain bikes couldn’t get any better the 29’er came along and the way we rolled over obstacles became easier. The 29’er because the wheels are a larger diameter.  Usually mountain bikes have a wheel size of either 26″ or 27.5″ (also known as the 650B). the 29’er is arguably better amongst many cyclists as it’s perceived that it has increased ability to handle obstacles (as the height of the bottom bracket is raised) and larger wheels roll over terrain more efficiently.  I’ve had both 26″ and 29″ and I think the 29’er rolls better into and out of obstacles, and the increased sized wheels change the gear ratio’s slightly.   I guess its personal preference though.

Heres a comparison between a 29’er and a 26″ bikes wheel.

Things have gone a little further now with “Fat Bikes” becoming the trend.  Extremely easy to ride on loose surfaces such as sand, mud or gravel, these massive wheels and tyres give the rider the confidence to tackle almost anything.  I’d kill myself on one I reckon.

There is a new kid on the block though.  Battery powered bikes have revolutionised the way we enjoy the trails.  Faster, more enjoyable (for the lazier of us), and becoming more affordable is the bike that has a battery and motor.  It’s still small enough not be known as a motorcycle, but the technology is the same as battery powered motorcycles, just on a smaller scale.  Again, there are a variety of types.  The extreme battery motorised mountain bike;

Or the commuter bike (seen cruising around your local neighbourhood delivering mail).

How can we stand in the way of technology ?  People may ask “Yeah but at what cost”??  We’re becoming a society of convenience, and an an electric commuter bike costs very little to charge, takes next to no effort to ride, and because its a bike, you can ride it to the office and keep it in a store room.  With benefits of no fuel costs, registration, car parking fee’s, Tolls, traffic or road raging drivers….. No wonder they’re becoming popular for people living close to work.

Maybe its just be me ?!  but I actually enjoy a little exertion, the exercise I’m getting when I’m riding. I reach my destination, and think to myself “I’ve actually achieved something”. It makes me feel good to know I can pedal my bike up a hill, and each time I do it, it becomes easier. Yes, I’ve been told on occasion that I over think things !! ha haFor the Hipster type parents.  Those parents that enjoy riding, the outdoors and pedal power, there’s an alternative to the old fashioned kids seat perched on the rear cargo carrier of the old type parents bike.

Now theres a bike that looks like a pedal powered wheel barrow.  It has a large cargo area between the peddler and the front wheel.  Here you can fill it with blankets, pillows and yes, your children.

Alternatively, you can purchase a bike trailer that looks like a tent on wheels, inside your children sit patiently while being dragged through traffic or along the bike paths.  I always wonder though, what happens to the loose stones that are usually thrown out from the rear wheel, or the rooster tail of water that we’ve all had soak the rear of our trousers, making them look like you’ve followed through while expelling flatulence.

The rear, side mounted briefcase or carry bag has given way to an office deliver bike.  This bike has a sealed container of which documents of the highest importance are kept safe between city blocks.

The Bicycle courier wouldn’t have a job had it not been for the invention of, the bicycle.  Neither would the newly created roles of Deliveroo (Pizza and fast food delivery) where college student make extra money delivery food to those too time poor to go get it themselves.

ET wouldn’t have been able to sit in a basket of a bicycle with his finger glowing saying “ET Phone home”, had it not been for a Frenchman in 1869.

So, some of life’s greatest experiences have happened (or been made easier) because of the humble Bicycle.  Grazed knees/elbows/faces, gravel rash, runnings with branches, gates and electric fences, having your favourite pair of white trousers eaten by the chain, fingers caught in spokes and “Doubling accidents gone wrong” wouldn’t have been part of the “Highlight Reel” had it not been for bicycles.  New and improved bicycles have changed the face of cycling as have the different varieties of cycles but one thing remains a constant.  It’ll never change (well not in foreseeable future anyway), and that is the required skill everyone must have.  Balance.  Without this simple yet easily disrupted skill, the art of riding would be impossible.

Learning to ride a bicycle is a right of passage.  A simple transition from infant to childhood.  A test for parents to see how they’re going, whether they’re children will listen to them, trust them, and of course be comforted by them.  It’s a child’s first real test, it gives them experience in failure (everyone falls off when learning), it teaches them to persist, and ultimately succeed, with practice and determination.  Ask yourself one thing.  Without the bicycle, what could replace this valuable experience in a child life ??  xBox or Playstation ??!!

  And this has been my blog on Bicycles.

    Bicycles – A revolution During the year 1817 - Baron Karl Drais Von Sauerbronn patented what we know know as "The Bicycle".