#it's not a financial problem for the record i just fucked up my grade really bad

[bitegore]

Hi. I just got some very bad news. Consider reblogging my art or giving me tips on kofi or something, I don't even know.

[raibebe]

Sugar and Spice

Genre: Fluff? Words: 4.390 Warnings: none for this chapter

Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | masterlist

A/N: Sugar and Spice is a series now, I know you all probably wanted more smut but I chose to write a prequel about how Jeno ended up being a sugar baby in the first place.  Since this is going to be a longer story, I wanted to try to do it in chapters instead of writing one giant thing. Later on I will switch the POV but I felt like it was needed to start off with Jeno’s.  Do not worry, there will be smut in later chapters.

Taglist: @yutaalove​, @byunniebaekhyunnie​

Like all the bad decisions Lee Jeno had made in his life, this one started with none other than Lee Donghyuck. The two boys were sitting in the university’s cafeteria where Donghyuck watched Jeno eat the food they had served with a disgusted look on his face. “I don’t understand how you can even swallow that.” “It’s either this or instant ramen again and I am pretty sure my body consists of 60% ramen already,” Jeno whined, trying to wash down what must be the most dry piece of meat he had ever tasted his entire life with some water. “Dude you work like three jobs,” Donghyuck groaned, kicking his friend beneath the table. “Got fired from the library because they caught me sleeping,” Jeno sighed deeply. “You look like you’re ready to pass out right now.” “Hyuck, I am functioning on three hours of sleep and two redbull.” “Jeno,” Donghyuck sighed and Jeno hated it when he used that tone of voice. He didn’t need Donghyuck’s pity. He could do this. He was fine. Well mostly. Apart from the fact that he got an average amount of four hours of sleep, was barely passing his classes and got fired by one of his many part time jobs every few months his life was absolutely peachy. “I’m sure if you talk to your parents again-“ “No,” he cut Donghyuck off, “I won’t come begging at their door. I chose this path for myself and they simply don’t agree Hyuck.” “Your parents suck ass,” his friend sighed, leaning back in his chair, “Pretty sure my parents would throw a party each day for a week straight if I had told them I wanted to become a vet.” “Well mine aren’t,” Jeno sighed and raked a hand through his messy hair. It was getting too long again, his bangs hanging into his eyes. Could he ask Renjun to cut it again? Did he trust the furious Chinese man with something sharp that close to his eyes?

For a while it was quiet between the two friends while Jeno continued to stuff his face with the cafeteria food. He didn’t have much time before he had to go to his shift at a little record store not far from his dorm building. It wasn’t paying the best but the owner of the shop and no issues with him doing his readings there when no customers were around. “You know that we miss you, Jeno. Right?” Donghyuck cut the silence which made Jeno stop mid bite, “We haven’t done anything with all the boys in forever and I am not counting the times we were at the club while you were working and declining the tips we were trying to give you.” “I don’t need nor want your pity money, Hyuck,” Jeno groaned again and shoved the plate with his food away. His appetite had left him. Donghyuck and him had this conversation every other week always with the same outcome: Donghyuck explaining how he was worried about him and Jeno telling him that he was fine (which he most likely wasn’t but he managed). “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make it to our meets ups, I really am,” Jeno tried to explain and Donghyuck’s eyes immediately went soft, “I just- I’m behind on my tuition again and haven’t paid the lease for the dorms for the last moth yet. I really need to take every minute and hour of overtime I can get and my grades aren’t getting any better either. This will all be for nothing if I fail my anatomy class again.” “Jeno,” Donghyuck tried again, ���You can’t keep on like this for another three years.” “I have to Hyuck,” Jeno sighed, slouching back into his chair, “I have to.” His body had been screaming at him to stop whatever he was doing for weeks now and to be completely honest, he was aching for a full eight hours of sleep and not the usual four that were just disconnected naps throughout his day.

“I’m going to make a suggestion and I need you to promise me to not be mad at me, alright,” Donghyuck suddenly said, holding out his pinky finger. “Hyuck, I won’t take money from any of you. I don’t want Chenle to pay for my lease again. That was a one-time thing and I told him that I would pay him back,” Jeno immediately argued, shame running through him. He hated constantly being treated to meals and the thought that he had a debt with his younger friend even though the Chinese had told Jeno hundreds of times that he didn’t need to money back. “That’s not what I wanted to suggest. Now promise.” Jeno rolled his eyes before interlocking his pinky with one of his arguably best friends. “Actually this isn’t my idea. But Jaemin and Renjun brought it up last Friday at our movie night.” That alone made Jeno feel bad again. While his friends had been all cuddled up in Chenle’s apartment to watch some movies and eat popcorn while drinking cheap beer, he had been working in a sweaty club with horrible music that made his ears ring. “I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath but Donghyuck didn’t seem to hear him. “But hear me out: Have you ever thought about becoming a sugar baby?” Jeno lost all control over his facial muscles and was pretty sure his brain had just short circuited, his open mouth free real estate for the fruit flies that were all over the cafeteria. “No, no, think about it Jeno,” Donghyuck immediately argued, “I did my research and you can get a monthly allowance for at least a thousand dollar if not more. You’d be able to quit that job at the shady bar.” “Hyuck,” Jeno cut in when his brain had successfully rebooted, “In case you haven’t noticed in all the years we’ve been friends: I’m not gay.” “So what?” “What do you mean so what? I’m not going to prostitute myself for some old man just because I need money,” Jeno hissed between his teeth. “Oh my god Jeno,” Donghyuck sighed, “You’re so 2010. There are plenty of wealthy woman out there looking for some arm candy to pass their time.” “You’re insane Donghyuck.” “Insanely brilliant that is,” his friend grinned, “This is literally the perfect solution for all your problems.” “How is fucking some old hag going to solve any of my problems?” “Oh come on, Jeno,” Donghyuck groaned, “There are plenty of sites that let you choose your preferred partner for this kind of arrangement. And don’t even try to deny that you’re into older girls.” At that Jeno flushed a deep red color. His preference about his partners was basically an open secret in their group of friends that he had confessed after a drunken round of truth or dare some time in highschool when Renjun had asked him why he had rejected the confession of a cute girl a year below them to keep crushing on the substitute teacher they had. Chenle had not let this thing die until Jeno had started to date a girl from Mark’s class and even then the boy had made some cruel comments about their age difference. “Here, Renjun found a site that seems very legit,” Donghyuck brought him back from his memories, scribbling down a link on a piece of paper, “Please just check it out.” “That’s a lot of promises I have to give today,” Jeno mused but took the paper to put it into his pocket. “We’re just trying to look out for you Jeno.” “I know,” he sighed, “And I appreciate that.” “You’re running thin Jeno.” “I know Hyuck!” He said, making his friend flinch at his outburst, “I fucking know, okay. I’m sorry I am making you all worry with how terrible my life currently is. It’s not like I am happy about it but you could really stop bitching about it.” Just when Donghyuck opened his mouth to reply something, Jeno’s eyes shot to the big clock on the wall. “Safe it Hyuck, I need to go to my shift.” With that he got up to hoist his bag that was barely holding together onto his shoulder and basically fled the cafeteria. Donghyuck could bring back his plate, that was the least he could do.  

Once outside, the student quickly plugged in his earphones into his phone and played his favorite playlist on his way to the record store, inwardly scolding himself for being so proud and not leeching off of Jaemin’s spotify anymore when what felt like the third ad in ten minutes interrupted his vibing. At the record store, he quickly unlocked the front door and put on a random record to play over the speakers before he got situated behind the counter to try to revise his notes from today that were unreadable at best. He had fallen asleep at least twice in his morning class and had to be shaken awake by one of his classmates once the lecture was over. Great. So self-study it was.

Over the course of his shift, he was only interrupted twice from reading the chapter in the book that he was pretty sure he should have brought back to the library last week. But since he really didn’t have any money to spare for the fine, he had decided to keep it a little longer until he was at a financially better place which was nowhere near in close sight now that he was fired from his job at said library. Which brought him back to what Donghyuck had said to him. But him becoming a sugar baby? Jeno really couldn’t think of himself in such a position. Sure, he wasn’t bad looking but when he thought of the word sugar baby he thought of beautiful and petite boys like Renjun or maybe even Jaemin but him? Even though he had lost quite some muscle mass since this shitshow had begun, he was still built quiet broad and had more of a masculine, handsome feel than sweet and beautiful. And wasn’t that was sugar mommies would look for? If they wanted a man, they wouldn’t search for a someone younger. Jeno sighed loudly and let his head hit his book. This was a hopeless situation.

But he guessed having a look at the site wouldn’t hurt and so Jeno ended up typing in the address of the sugar baby site into the computer at work, praying the owner didn’t know how to check which sites he had opened once he’d delete the browser history. The site itself looked clean, mainly consisting of muted pastel colors and black font and accents. If you weren’t signed in, you didn’t get much information on what exactly was going on but the site claimed that keeping their clients data safe was their main concern since very influential people were using their site. Jeno completely blamed Donghyuck and the two redbulls he had already had for clicking on the pastel blue ‘sign up’ button. He then had to fill out basic data about himself: His gender, age, profession and interests along with his sexual orientation. He hesitated for a second when the site asked if he was okay to be partnered with someone of the same sex for a strictly platonic relationship but denied it in the end. Next he was asked to choose a nickname to chat with potential benefactors as the site called the sugar mommies and daddies. Was this where he should choose something cute to attract people to his profile? Whacking his brain for any cute plays on his actual name, he came up with exactly nothing other than the No-Jam nickname he had earned in highschool which really wasn’t cute at all. The only other thing that came to mind was when Jaemin jokingly called himself Nana and Jeno Nono in that god-awful aegyo voice which never failed to make Jeno cringe. Why did he have to choose a nickname anyways? It was to protect the benefactors; he really didn’t have anything else to lose than his dignity. Sighing, Jeno quickly typed in: ‘Jenonono’ as his nickname, only cringing slightly when choosing a password and entering his email address to confirm everything. Once he had activated his account with the link he was sent, Jeno only had to choose a couple of pictures for his profile to complete it. Well this was a problem. Jeno couldn’t even remember the last time he took a selfie where he wasn’t looking like death on two legs to send them to his friends. He quickly scrolled through his camera roll in search for at least one decently attractive photo. He only stopped scrolling when he found photos from almost a year ago before he had changed his field of study and had the fall-out with his parents. His hair was bleached a bright blonde color and the sides were shaved but he was looking good, more toned than he was now and like he actually slept at night. Not even close to how he was looking right now but it was still him, so did this count as catfishing? He quickly chose two photos with his blonde hair styled up and one with his natural haircolor from before he and Jaemin had the great idea to bleach each other’s hair and send them to himself via mail so he could upload them onto the website.

When Jeno pressed the ‘complete’ button, the site showed him on overview of what his profile would look like and it wasn’t even half bad if he did say so himself. He still felt a little uneasy about the whole thing and the fact that he was basically catfishing people into thinking he still looked so bulky and put together like he had looked last year didn’t help. “Come on Jeno, you have nothing to lose,” he grumbled and pressed the ‘confirm’ button one last time. His profile disappeared and the site instead showed Jeno their actual layout for the matching. Unlike other dating sites, he couldn’t swipe through potential benefactors himself; he had to wait until someone actually message him. Great. So he had to hope that his pictures and his honestly not great profile would lure someone in who was at least mildly attractive. Maybe no one would ever contact him and he could just throw it back into Donghyuck’s face how this had been a shitty idea to begin with. Sighing, he closed the site for now and deleted the browser history just to be safe as well.

The rest of his shift went by in a blur of trying to make sense of his scribbly notes and whatever the authors of the book he was reading were trying to teach him about the anatomy of different species and Jeno didn’t even think twice about the site he had signed up for when he closed down the shop and went home to his shitty dorm. The short trip to the convenience store only made him more aware of how poor he was when he had to choose between an actual meal and food for the cat he had recently (very much illegally) saved from the streets and taken in. He’d be more than damned if the kitten he had named Bongsik would have to suffer, so it would be a delicious meal for her and more instant ramen for Jeno.

Back at his dorm room - a single one that could barely fit his bed, wardrobe and desk - the little cat immediately rubbed its tiny head against his pant leg and Jeno couldn’t help but smile and bend down to pet the little creature. He felt a little bit of tension immediately seep from his tired muscles and indulged the kitten in a little cuddle session until he felt his eyes starting to itch. His allergies be damned! Sighing the boy got up to actually shed his jacket and shoes and opened the fresh can of delicious cat food for Bongsik who immediately devoured it. If she thought it was delicious, would it taste good for Jeno as well? Chuckling he turned back to prepare his own food, all this instant ramen might have started to take a toll on his psyche. He ate his meal in silence before throwing both containers in the trash. Jeno knew he had to work on his essay for one of his classes but for a moment he just felt the need to relax for a bit, especially now that he didn’t have to rush over to his job at the library. Taking out his phone, he quickly replied to the group chat of his friends where they were animatedly planning a trip to the cinema on Friday which Jeno had to decline. Not only did he have a shift at the bar but he also didn’t really have the money for it. Sighing he locked his phone again. Well that went great, now he was stressed again. “Bongsik you love me right?” He asked and turned towards his cat again who was lounging next to him on the floor, her belly full with delicious food. Oh to be a cat...

Jeno sighed again when his cat of course didn’t answer. He really was going insane. But it was going to be worth it, he reminded himself again. Once this was all over he would be a vet and able to help all kinds of animals. He would make good money and could pay off his tuition slowly and maybe a couple of years later he could even have his own medical practice. But to have all that, he really needed to up his grades. Especially this godawful anatomy grade. Groaning Jeno got up from the floor to plop down on his desk and start his laptop that made an awful lot of noise while booting up. Knowing that it took the device a good two minutes give or take to completely be ready, he started to go through his notes again before typing them into the document where he compiled all his notes just to have them all nice and neat in one place.

By some ungodly hour in the morning, Jeno’s eyes started to close more and more often on their own accord and the letters on the screen started to blur together despite wearing his glasses. “We should probably call it a night, Bongsik,” he spoke into the silent room, his cat already fast asleep at the foot of his bed. Fondly smiling at her, he saved his progress on both his notes and his essay and shut down his laptop. Jeno didn’t really dare to look at the time, so he just quickly grabbed his stuff for the bathroom and got himself ready for bed in the vacant bathroom he shared with a couple of other students. But at this time it was almost guaranteed to be empty.

Once back in his dorm, Jeno quickly climbed under the covers and plugged his phone in to make sure his alarm would actually go off in about 4 hours. Even though he was dead tired now that his body was surrounded by the warmth of his bed, a notification caught his attention. Leeching off of the free wifi at the record store, he had downloaded the app that came with the sugar baby site praying it would work on his outdated phone which it luckily did. Maybe the programmers had actually thought about broke students with shitty phones just like him for once. Taking a deep breath, Jeno clicked on the notification that had told him that a potential benefactor wanted to text him. Well that was quick. A lot quicker than he had anticipated. When the app had finally loaded with the shitty wifi he definitely not stole from his dorm neighbor (he had set his password as 1234, he was begging to have it stolen), a profile of a woman showed up. She smiled warmly in the picture she had chosen and it seemed to be taken at some tropical place judging by the palm trees in the background. Jeno quickly skimmed through the rest of her profile that only said that she wasn’t that much older than him. Well she was but not to the extent where she could have been his mother - ew. As her job she just had just listed estate agent. Did that pay well? Jeno didn’t know. His thumb hovered over the pastel button that said ‘accept’. If he would press this, this wasn’t just a ‘I’ll take a look at this app for Donghyuck’s sake’ then he was actually invested. But even if he accepted, he was not entitled to the woman. He could still say no if she turned out to be a creep. Hell, he didn’t even have to meet her ever if he didn’t like chatting with her. Before his courage could leave him, Jeno quickly accepted the offer and a new page opened that looked just like every other messenger.

To: Jenonono You’re up late.

What a weird way to open up a conversation. But it certainly was better than perverted innuendos or a ‘hi’ like Jaemin was continuously whining over whenever he had reinstalled tinder. But what was he supposed to reply? Should he try to act cute and coy? Was that what she would be looking for? But before he could even type anything, she had sent another message.

To: Jenonono You don’t seem like the typical boy you find on here.

What was that supposed to mean?

From: Jenonono I’m not? what are those like then?

To: Jenonono They’re not as handsome as you.

At that Jeno flushed a deep red color. He wasn’t used to such blatant flirting.

To: Jenonono I really like the blonde on you but the darker color is cute as well.

From: Jenonono it’s dark right now

As soon as he hit send, Jeno wanted to hit himself. What was she supposed to answer to that message? God he was such an idiot.

To: Jenonono Cute. Are you nervous?

From: Jenonono I have never done this before and didn’t think someone would message someone like me

To: Jenonono I haven’t been doing this for long either. And what do you mean by ‘someone like me’?

From: Jenonono you said yourself that I’m not the typical boy you would find on here...

To: Jenonono Well occasionally there is a diamond between all the rocks.

Jeno wasn’t sure if this was even an actual saying but it made him feel warm nevertheless.

From: Jenonono you’re pretty forward with your flirting

To: Jenonono Am I making you shy, baby?

As if to prove her point, Jeno almost choked on his own saliva, coughing loudly which ultimately woke up Bongsik who threw him a very much not amused gaze. He hadn’t known that just reading the word baby would have such an effect on him. A voice in the back of his head that sounded a little too much like Donghyuck called him a ‘bottom bitch’. Biting his lip he contemplated whether he should flirt back. Up until now it was fun talking to her. And he still had nothing to lose.

From: Jenonono What if I maybe blushed just the smallest bit?

To: Jenonono You’re so cute. I’m glad I found you. But you should go sleep, baby. It’s late already.

From: Jenonono shouldn’t you be asleep as well then?

To: Jenonono I just came back from a long flight and my bed seems a little lonely.

Was this his chance to get a little flirtatious himself? Was she testing him?

From: Jenonono would you want me there with you? so it’s not as lonely?

To: Jenonono That does sound very tempting, baby boy. Let me take you out for a meal before I take you to bed.

Jeno’s breath caught in his throat for a little before he broke out in little giggles. He had completely forgotten how good it felt to feel wanted between all the stress that his life currently was. Maybe but just maybe Donghyuck had been right and this truly could be the solution for many of his problems.

From: Jenonono is that an invitation?

To: Jenonono How does lunch tomorrow sound like baby? I’ll treat you to something delicious.

Gnawing at his thumb, Jeno read the message over and over. He didn’t even know the woman. Meeting up with her might be a risk. For all he knew she could be a serial killer.

To: Jenonono I know this is sudden. But I want to get to know you better. Face to face. Not just over a stupid text box.

Taking a deep breath, Jeno took all his courage and replied with shaking fingers.

From: Jenonono I have a little break between my last class of the day and before I have to go to my part time job.

To: Jenonono There is a cute little bistro not too far from where I remember the main dorm buildings were. [link attached]

Clicking on the link, a website opened and showed him a French-style bistro that judging by the address was right between his dorm and the record shop. He should be able to do it. Curiously he clicked on the menu and immediately regretted it. The prices were ridiculous. For the price of a simple piece of bread, he could easily feed Bongsik and himself for two days.

From: Jenonono isn’t this a little too much?

To: Jenonono Let me spoil you, baby. Just tell me the time and I’ll make sure that I can be there.

From: Jenonono would around one work for you?

To: Jenonono I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to meeting you. Now sleep tight and have sweet dreams, baby.

From: Jenonono maybe I’ll even dream of you

Screaming into his pillow, Jeno threw his phone away. He couldn’t believe that he just send that. Quickly grabbing his kitten, he pressed his face into her soft fur while she struggled in his hold. “Bongsik I have a date,” he whispered, “An actual date. With a potentially very rich woman. I can’t believe I actually did that.”

[scoutshonor56]

COP NATION

“Bad boys, bad boys, watcha gonna do…”

 As I’ve watched our country being torn apart these last three weeks, I’ve been tempted to voice an opinion, but I thought I would let things simmer and roil a while before setting my thoughts to words – see how events evolved.  What has become obvious is that what we have are two separate issues, albeit both intrinsically woven together, joined at the waist: Racism, and what America calls “law and order”; specifically, those who are tasked to uphold this social contract, the police. Those sworn to protect and serve.

 Well, like America’s fixation with guns, I have also written about race many times – so many times that I’ve given up writing about either years ago; there is simply nothing more to be said, nor has anything significantly changed. So instead, I’m going to put out there some observations and insights about law enforcement here in America.  I draw upon mainly two sources: Last Monday’s (June 8) John Oliver show, and a recent post in the social platform, Medium: Confessions of a Former Bastard Cop.

 A quick addendum about the Medium piece: some may question it’s validity and alleged source, as is wise today – there is a huge, digital quagmire of untruths and bullshit floating around the mass communications world, where anyone is free to write anything and instantly put it out there. I myself am a stickler for checking sources and facts before voicing an opinion.  That being said, I choose not to waste time digging and poking around on this one for the simple reason that it’s irrelevant; in my 64 years I’ve seen it all happen – a lot.  From the war protests and race riots of the 60’s, to the beating and drowning of Joe Campos Torres by the Houston police my first year down here (‘77), to the fatal shooting of Dennis Tuttle and Rhogena Nicholas during a “no knock” botched drug raid January 18th of last year - yes, just like the one that lead to the death of EMT worker, Breonna Taylor, of Kentucky, who was shot eight times, in her home, just last March 13.  

 Also, a lot of the material touched on in this ex-cop confession is mirrored in the Oliver show.  For instance, you might ask yourself, “Is there really such a thing as a ‘killologist’ who regularly trains our police force?”

 Why yes little Sarah, there is indeed, and you can see him on the Oliver show!

 I encourage you to read the post in Medium (it’s lengthy, but if anything, at least read the closing suggestions) and watch the Oliver show, and then ask yourself: Why does America far and away lead the civilized world in police use of firearms, death by firearms, and imprisonment of its citizens?  What are we, as a society, doing wrong or differently?

 How did a simple case of an Atlanta black man, Rayshard Brooks, inebriated and asleep at a Wendy’s drive thru, result in his shooting death just days ago?  By the way officer Rolfe, bravo sir, bravo!  Job well done – so how does it feel to take a human life, shooting him twice in the back for the offense of being drunk and resisting arrest?  Hey, here’s a crazy thought, a wild reimagining: Considering America is now a tinderbox just waiting for a spark over policing methods, how do you think this would have played out if you and your partner, after finding Mr. Brooks too inebriated to drive, said “You know anyone you could call to take you home?  You can park your car right over there, come pick it up in the morning…”  

 The days of dismissing these incidents as “a few bad apples” are long gone; thanks to today’s technology, everyday citizens (not to mention the ubiquitous security cameras that are everywhere) now have the power to record with a handheld phone; anywhere, anytime, and it has become increasingly obvious that no, the problem runs deeper - right to the core of police culture and training.  A culture that recently got Tulsa Police Department  Maj.  Travis Yates in hot water when during a recent podcast he said that systemic racism “just doesn’t exist”, and further suggested research shows the police are shooting African Americans “24% less than we probably ought to be.”

 Uhhhh -  wow…

 Maybe it’s time to look at this nationwide problem from a totally different perspective; maybe we continue to put Band-Aids and cosmetic patches on something that needs to be addressed before the bleeding even starts.  The cause, and not the symptoms.  

Yet, once again we assuredly will see some tepid policy changes, banning chokeholds, mandated race relations seminars, increased accountability and monitoring, policy reviews, blah, blah, blah – as we’ve seen it all before, for decades (Hey, remember Rodney King?), and in the end nothing changes.  If these methods were effective, why are these incidents only increasing in frequency? I join the many who have seen enough; who feel America needs to erase the board and start this equation over, or this bloody ugliness will continue, and only get worse.  For an expansion on this, read an excellent recent editorial written by Mariame Kaba, featured in the NY Times.

 Unfortunately, the Dems have come up with a reasonable start, but decided to call the initiative “Defunding the Police”.  Really?  That’s the best you can do?  Something that anyone could easily interpret as “let’s starve the cops financially!” Until what – they die on the vine?

 No.  But let’s take a look at what this financial restructuring really means, and start with the fact that the police force militia (which it has now become) is amply funded.  This is because every politician, be they a Democrat or Republican, loves running on a “law and order” platform – it’s an easy grab line.  Who doesn’t support law and order in our society?  And if it means the police want something from a military garage sale, like a Humvee, an assault vehicle, military grade ordinance and all kinds of fun urban warfare toys?  No problem!  

 Jeez, why does America accept this as necessary? Because our culture, out TV shows, our movies, are saturated with the fairytale myth of “they’re out there everywhere, the ‘bad guys’, and the only thing protecting the sheep from the wolves are the police!”  We glorify and promote the idea of our security and protection depends on a steely-eyed squad who are not afraid to use a gun; from the days of the old west, to organized crime during prohibition, to Nixon in 1971 making drug abuse “public enemy #1”, declaring war on the scourge of violent drug dealers that overtook our streets and enslaved our children!  

 Which, I might add, has proven a laughable failure by any and all standards, and has cost the U.S. over a TRILLION dollars since 1971, while glutting our jails to overflowing with non-violent offenders and ruining countless families.

 Watch a cop show (or movie) and see how long it takes before the guns come out to finalize justice, to provide closure and a happy ending. Justice ends with the scum bleeding out on the sidewalk.  “COPS”!? Are you fucking kidding me?  I didn’t even know it was still on the air – 31 years…  Oh, we feel so safe and secure in our homes as we watch the shirtless rabble led off in handcuffs to the squad car!  

Who watches a show filled with actual arrests for entertainment?  

 Meanwhile, let’s leave fantasy land and take a look at the real world: Did you know the vast majority of police action is what they call “reactive”?  Meaning responding to noise complaints, issuing parking and traffic citations, dealing with the homeless, domestic disputes, and other noncriminal, societal issues.  Most cops make one felony arrest a year – one.  And here lies the nut of the problem: armed police being called out mostly to deal with issues such as these.  

 Things that should, and could, be handled by trained professionals in these fields, not some cop who got 1,000 hours of training at the academy, little of it having to do with these issues.  And I say this in defense of the police, and this is what “defunding” really means.  They shouldn’t have to deal with these problems, and most are ill equipped to do so – they’re cops!  If all you have is a hammer (club and gun), and you were trained to be a carpenter, everything gets treated like a nail.  This is ridiculous that our police are expected to wear so many hats and are so over extended.  Free them up to deal with actual criminal issues.  If one of the other scenarios turns violent or threatening, then call the police.

 Why does America find this concept so alien – so non-applicable here in the USA?  What, are our citizens somehow different than in the rest of the world?

 Bottom line, these are problems that exist because of the anemic funding in areas such as education, housing, and our shameful, for profit healthcare system that leaves millions uninsured and one medical emergency away from bankruptcy.  The positively obscene gap of income inequality that grows ever larger.  The false promises of politicians.  America is increasingly angry and frustrated with a government that is structured to favor the rich.  So yes, let’s try diverting some of police funding and instead put it into social programs involved with education, housing, mental health, etc.  These areas and the lack of funding are the seed, and then the root of most of society’s ills today – and yes, that often grow into crime and violence.  Often these are people that we’ve let fall thru the cracks, who didn’t get the same chance, the same opportunities; and who need a little help.

 Pay the police a better wage, attract and demand a more educated and diverse pool of applicants, and free them up to do what they are ideally supposed to do – PROTECT AND SERVE THE COMMUNITY.  They shouldn’t be seen as our enemy, nor should we be theirs.

 “You have to dominate, if you don’t dominate you’re wasting your time – you’re going to look like a bunch of jerks…You have to put them in jail for ten years and you’ll never see this stuff again.”   

- Trump addressing governors during a video conference call, June 1

[fuckstudy]

hi! do you mind sharing what uni you graduated from/extent to which go8 has an impact? (totally understandable if you dont, just curious) and how did you find the process of securing a law-related job upon graduation? do you have any tips regarding tackling the aus job market for law grads? esp. when you don't have a lot of professional exp/good grades/connections :/ sorry theres alot of qs here, haha. ty!

Hey! All good - love it when I get inquisitive anons in my inbox. Grab a cuppa, cause here we go: 

1. Go8

I graduated from a Go8 uni. 

To the extent to which Go8 has had an impact in actually securing a job - not much.  Employers focussed on my grades (regardless of uni) and what practical experience I had. 

So ‘brand and name’ wise, being a Go8 graduate had no effect on my prospects of employment. 

However, I’d say the opportunities and structure of a degree program at a university has a greater impact on your changes of securing a job upon graduation. A LLB/JD program that integrates practical experience (e.g. a program that includes a semester elective where the university actually helps you get a 6 month internship), in my opinion, is worth much much more than whether a uni is part of the Go8. So I guess, to the extent a Go8 university provides that… then yes, it has an impact. But you’ll find that a lot of non Go8 universities have similar (and sometimes better) programs. 

I also found Honours (or any other extended research program) helped me with the application and interview process. It demonstrated an area of interest, an ability to write longform, research skills and was an easy reply to all those pesky interview questions (e.g. “tell us about an area of law you are interested in and how you’ve demonstrated that interest….”) 

And to get really petty, the marking scheme that a university uses has a an impact. I guess. Some universities don’t scale their marks. Others do. A HD in one university may only count as a D in another university. Human resources usually know about this, I’d assume cvMail adjusts for this…. but if you’re going at face value…. (personally I think this is just law grads’ paranoia and absolute bs….but i dnk whether its something you’d want to consider) 

2. How did I find the process of securing a law related job upon  graduation 

Honestly? Pretty shit. 

I mean, yes, I secured a ‘law’ job upon graduation. And for the foreseeable future. Which will enable me to be admitted, go through my restricted practice years, become a ‘lawyer’ etc. 

But the stress, anxiety, depression that comes with employment uncertainty started…. a long time ago. 

Why? 

I mean, we all know the process of securing a “law job” traditionally starts in your penultimate year. Most top to mid tier firms only offer grad jobs to candidates who have completed clerkships with them. Hence, the clerkship application process in your penultimate year can be really friggin’ hectic. 

And it’s hard not to think you’ve lost your shot at this “law career” thing - even if you’re not sure you want to go into law but want to keep the door open - when you aren’t successful in the clerkship process. 

But here’s the thing - clerkships aren’t the be all and end all. 

The problem is, it feels like it. 

The most important thing to me was finding the confidence to apply widely every time you get knocked back. Every time you get knocked back for a clerkship, grad job, job, internship - it hurts. Its a real confidence shaker. It makes you doubt whether or not you’re good enough to finish your degree, and why the fuck did I choose this degree - I shoulda done commerce instead. 

But push through. Cry, yell, sleep in bed, doubt yourself, get angry at yourself (I did), stay up all night doing the application - it doesn’t matter as long as you submit the application. 

Also, don’t forget the role of sheer dumb luck. For me, whilst I had a strong academic record (and some practical experience), I only landed my job two weeks’ after sitting my final exam…. over a lunchbreak. Seriously. 

Its about creating your own chances. I didn’t say no to any opportunity because I couldn’t afford to say no. And in the end, the sum of my weird, random, off the beaten track opportunities led me to that lunchroom, to that conversation and to my current job. 

3. Tackling the aus job market 

Firms are changing. We’ve got a lot of global connections now. And that creates a lot of opportunities - and a lot of competition. 

The usual “job tips” apply - e.g. apply widely, prepare for your interview etc. 

But specifically in Aus - if you have the opportunity to, do a rural/ community based stint. Not many people are willing to go out 3 hours into the middle of nowhere. Or to live in the outback for a bit. 

But that’s where you’ll get the best experience. Chances are the experience you get there will be much more hands on. More court appearances (if advocacy is what you want to do). It’d be much more hectic - given the strain on resources and the sheer logistical difficulties... but a few rural years’ experience may give you the edge when you move back to the city and hunt for those 2+ PAE (post admission experience) jobs. 

Don’t be afraid to start in a small-mid tier firm. Just... never forget that where you start is not where you will finish. Because you will change - your wants, your interests, your priorities. And as such, it’s realistic to expect that your career goals will aswell. 

 4. Tackling the aus job market when you don’t have any connections 

(you and me both anon) 

LBR, having family/ friend connections in the ‘law’ can be a shortcut to getting your foot into the profession. 

But the best thing is that being in law school gives you the opportunity to make those connections. 

For example: 

Participating in competitions is a platform through which you can start building your networks (I have to admit, I never did this though.) 

Getting a mentor. Seriously. Mentoring programs are the best for this.  

Engage with your lecturers - esp if you’re interested in their research/ subject area. Chances are they’ve got contacts from their time practicing or as a lecturer. 

I kept eyes on my university careers’ page like a hawk - including opportunities outside of law. 

If its within your financial means, go for unpaid opportunities. 

And… even though it’s bloody competitive and hard and everyone seems to have this ‘taboo’ about talking about who/what/when/where they applied, talk to someone you trust. For me, it was graduates in the year above me, or from other universities - they kept me in the loop.

It also helps to stalk the fuck out of career’s handbooks from other universities. Whilst all universities are pretty detailed in the commercial/ top tier end (who could blame them - chances are they’re funding that new refurbishment on campus :P), I found some universities provided much broader advice + opportunities outside ‘commercial law’. 

Here’s the thing... you don’t need connections to enter the legal profession. Sure, ‘networking’ is part and parcel of the gig. But never think that “I’ll never be a lawyer because I don’t know anyone!”. 

In the end, jobs are (well, should be) given on merit. 

And if they’re not going to take you on merit - then are you sure that’s a place that you’d want to work? 

All the best anon. I know it’s a frustrating time to be a law grad. 

[biancavz-blog1]

task #1

( &&. general information )

Full name: Bianca Beatrice VanZant

Pronunciation: Bianca [bee-ahn-kuh] VanZant [van-zant]

Nickname(s) or alias: B- but only for close friends, if you’re not close you’ll probably get an eye roll

Preferred name: Bianca

Current age: 21

Astrological sign: Cancer

Element: water      

Title: Miss

Label: The Fraud

Gender: Cis Female

Preferred pronouns: she/her(s)

Sexual preference: Homosexual

Romantic preference: Homoromantic  

Resides in: Princeton, NJ

Current occupation: student

Language(s) spoken: English, conversational Spanish

Native language: English

Current marital status: single

( &&. background )

Reason behind name: her middle name, Beatrice, was her paternal grandmother’s name; her parents just liked Bianca

Birth order: youngest, has one older sister

Ethnicity: English, Irish, and French

Nationality: American

Religion: Atheist now, but raised Catholic- family is not overtly religious  

Culture: n/a

Traditions/customs: grew up going to church on Christmas and Easter- her family was never super into religion  

Political views: Liberal

Financial status: formerly wealthy

IQ: 132

Hometown: Las Vegas, NV

( &&. physical appearance )

Looks like (or face     claim, if applicable): Carlson     Young

Height: 5’2”

Weight: 119 

Shoe size: 7

Figure/build: thin, toned

Hair colour, Dyed?: naturally blonde

Hair length: long

Eye colour: hazel

Glasses? Colour? / Contacts? Are they coloured?: used to wear glasses, now wears contacts almost always

Shape of face: diamond

Do they shave/wax? Where?: yes, both 

Skin tone: peach-ish

Tattoos: has a really small yellow rose on her ribs

Piercings: ears

Birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: thin scar that runs up half of her left calf

Dominant hand: right-handed

If painted, what color are their nails/toenails?: black or white

Usual style of clothing: comfortable but chic- has to keep up appearances

Frequently worn jewelry: rings- all kinds of rings, but always a sapphire ring that her mother gave her when she turned 13

Describe their voice: a little low and raspy

What is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: pretty monotone, not very fast

Describe their scent: used to wear expensive perfume, but doesn’t really have money for it anymore

Describe their posture: Great posture, but has gotten slightly more relaxed since going to college- had to have good posture growing up or else her older family members would berate her

( &&. legal information )

Any speeding tickets?: Yep, one, but has talked her way out of two others

Have they ever been arrested?: almost

Do they have a criminal record?: no

Have they committed any violent crimes?: no

Property crimes?: no

Traffic crimes?: yes

Other crimes?: underage drinking and drug use, I guess?? But was never arrested for it

( &&. medical information )

Blood type: A-    

Date/time of birth: June 24 at 7:21 am

Place of birth: Nevada  

Vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal

Sex: Female

Diet: eats healthy, lots of fruits and vegetables- watches her figure pretty closely

Smoker? /Drinker? / Drug User?, Which?: drinks fairly often- mostly socially; smokes weed occasionally; used to do coke, but has since stopped

Addictions: none

Allergies: cats

Do they get occasional checkups?: yes

Ever broken a bone?: yes, broke her right wrist in 7th grade

Hospital visits, what for?: for the broken wrist and then once because she fainted at school in high school

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: struggles with mental health, but tries to ignore it and never wants anyone to know

( &&. career information )

Do they enjoy their current occupation?: sure, she’s a fast learner and knows it’s important for her future

Why do they do it?: to get somewhere, to separate herself from her father

How did they end up in their current occupation?: n/a

How long have they been in their current occupation?: since she was a kid

( &&. personality )

Direct quote from them: “Telling me to smile more will only make my scowl deepen.”

Positive traits: smart, passionate, caring, funny

Negative traits: secretive, cynical, guarded

Likes: hard-working and genuine people, feminism, politics, yellow roses

Dislikes: Trump, horses, red roses

Strengths: can read people really well and she’s a really good listener

Weaknesses: finds it hard to open up to people; is terrible at math

Insecurities: her body, her family’s situation

Fears/phobias: horses, everyone finding out about her family’s money problems, dying alone

Habits: cracks her knuckles too often

Quirks: can’t sleep without a fan on

Hobbies: running, writing- mostly poetry

Guilty pleasure: extremely cheesy lesbian romance novels

Desires: happiness, to have money again, true love (but only on the low)

Regrets: being a bitch in high school

Secrets: that her family is broke

Turn ons: tight pants/skirts- she’s an ass girl- attractive hands, sexy voices

Turn offs: stingy people, suck ups 

Superstitions: salt spilling thing

Lucky number: 11

Pet peeves: loud chewers, horse girls

Their motto: “adapt and overcome”

( &&. favourites )

Food: pie

Drink: vodka

Fast food restaurant: Chipotle

Flavour: green apple

Word: fuck

Colour: black

Clothing: Steve Madden high-heeled boots

Accessory: the ring her mom gave her

Candle scent: fresh cotton

Store: Victoria’s Secret

Instrument: drums

Game: ERS

Occupation: presidential Chief of Staff

Animal: lizard    

Holiday: New Year’s Eve

Weather: a little rainy

Season: fall

Book: Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde

Artist: Marina and the Diamonds

Band/group: The Smiths

Song: Forget by Marina and the Diamonds

Movie/film: Casablanca

TV show: House of Cards

Sport: tennis

Sports team: not a big sports watcher  

Quote: “Only by learning to live in harmony with your contradictions can you keep it all afloat.” – Audre Lorde

School subject: government

Teacher: her high school AP Gov teacher, Mrs. Broum

Possession: the ring her mother gave her

Name: Margaret    

Number: 11

Emoji: the black heart

Landmark: Grand Canyon 

Person: Frankie

( &&. skills )

Talents: can run a 5-minute mile

Special powers/abilities: n/a

Ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles?: she can drive a car; she can  also sail bc raised rich af

Can they ride a bike?: yes

Do they play any sports?: used to play tennis and soccer, but not anymore

Anything they’re bad at?: singing

Do they have any combat training? Why?: no

( &&. firsts )

Childhood memory: her older sister pushing her in a swing in their backyard when she was 3 and her sister was 8

Crush: Janie Ullman

Email address: hottiebbvz11@aol.com

Job: student

Phone: Motorola Razor- the pink one

Kiss: Trent Hardin in the 7th grade

Love: she’d rather not remember her

Sexual experience: Michael Kennedy sophomore year of high school- was still trying her hardest to convince herself that she was straight

( &&. childhood )

Best childhood memory?: summers spent with Frankie

Worst childhood memory?: walking in on her dad cheating on her mom

What were they like as a child?: precocious, confident, loud

Any crushes growing up?: plenty- mostly secret because they were all girls

Did they know/like their parents?: she loves her mom, her dad not so much

Worst  influence on them as a kid?: her dad

Did they have a lot of friends?: yes

Were they heavily punished?: not really, pretty much free reign- not that she was that misbehaved

Anything they wish they could cut out?: walking in on her dad cheating on her mom and also most of high school  

Were they more feminine or masculine?: feminine

Were they an early or late bloomer for puberty?: early

Do they still know any of their childhood friends?: yes 

Did they have any chores? What?: nope

Describe their childhood home: huge and opulent

( &&. this or that )

Expensive or inexpensive tastes?: expensive

Hygienic or Unhygienic?: hygienic

Open-minded or close-minded?: open-minded

Introvert or extrovert?: extrovert

Optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic

Daredevil or cautious?: depends on the situation- cautious in love, daredevil in most other things

Logical or emotional?: logical

Generous or stingy?: generous

Polite or rude?: generally polite- was raised to be

Book smart or street smart?: book smart

Dominant or submissive?: we talking in bed? bc surprisingly submissive

Popular or loner?: popular

Leader or  follower?: leader  

Day or night person?: night

Cat or dog person?: dog

Closet door open or closed while sleeping?: closed

( &&. family relationships )

Father: Jacob VanZant

Describe their relationship: horrible; her dad’s a huge dick, he ruined the family in her opinion, also, he doesn’t accept her sexuality

Mother: Margaret VanZant

Describe their relationship: very good, she loves her mom- they’re close  

Brothers: none    

Describe their relationship: n/a

Sisters: Evelyn Gregory nee VanZant

Describe their relationship: great, she trusts her sister and they spend a lot of time together- Evelyn and her husband are putting her through college

Other important relatives: her brother-in-law, Luke Gregory

Significant other: none currently

( &&. other relationships )

Best friend: Frankie Sullivan

Past romances: she’d rather not remember most of them

Pets: had a dog growing up, Humphrey, he was a bulldog

Heroes: Gloria Steinem

Roommate(s): lives in a single

( &&. social media )

Do they have a Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? Vine? Snapchat? Tinder/Grindr? Tumblr? YouTube?

If so; Name on Facebook: Bianca VanZant

Twitter handle: @biancabvz

Instagram user: @biancabvz

Vine user: n/a (rip vine)

Snapchat user: @bvanzant

Name on Tinder/Grindr: Bianca

Tumblr URL: @biancavz

YouTube channel: n/a

( &&. musical tastes )

Theme song: Forget by Marina and the Diamonds

Can relate to: Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by The Smiths

Would like to be played at their wedding: Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis

Would like to play at their funeral: Highway to Hell by AC/DC

( &&. miscellaneous )

Do they have a fake I.D.?: used to

Are they a virgin?: nope

Describe their signature: small, neat

How long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: probably awhile tbh, she’s adaptable    

Do they travel?: used to

One place they would like to live: Washington, D.C.

One place they would like to visit: Brazil

Celebrity crush: Gina Rodriguez  

What can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: chapstick, water bottle, a flask, gum- usually several packs

When does your character like to wake up?: 7 am

What’s your character’s morning routine?: go on a run, come home and shower, get ready for the day- no breakfast usually

What does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?: she doesn’t eat breakfast; for lunch she usually goes for a salad or something similar; dinner is usually chicken or fish with vegetables and fruit

How does your character spend their free days?: spending time with her friends, writing poetry, running

What’s your character’s bedtime routine?: takes a shower (yeah, she usually showers twice a day), goes through social media, writes sometimes

What does your character wear to bed?: big shirt and underwear

If your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: her family’s issues or everything going wrong in her life

What has been their greatest achievement?: getting into Princeton

What is their idea of perfect happiness?: not needing to worry about money and being with a woman she loves

What or who is the greatest love of their life?: hell, she honestly has no ideas- she might have some wishful thinking on this, though

On what occasions do they lie?: she lies about her family literally all the time

Most marked characteristic: her voice

What is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: how much she worries about her body

How would they like to die?: peacefully, preferably

Do they snore?: occasionally- but she will deny it

Do they chew their pens/pencils?: nope

Can they curl their tongue?: no

Can they whistle?: yes

Do they believe in the supernatural?: not really

Have they ever cheated on anyone?: no

Have they ever been cheated on?: yes

Has anyone ever broken their heart?: yes

Have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: yes

Are they squeamish?: not particularly

Have they ever killed anyone? Why? How?: nope

Have they ever  seen anyone die? What happened?: she was in the hospital room when her grandpa died

Are they a lightweight?: no

[damester13]

Entry #15 - (Leave) 09/13/19

In my entries about my college journey, Maybe I glossed them with too much of the good stuff in it. While all those good things actually happened to me, we all know by now that I have already lost all of those. No matter how much of good things they were, it's nothing but just memories now. So now I will detail my last few months in Cainta.

Last year's Christmas was probably the saddest of all 21 Christmases I've had. Ever since I stopped functioning during our Finals week, I've been skipping meals more intensely and Christmas Eve was no different. I also turned off all communications with other people for a while. My coping mechanism switch was lit green. I just didn't want to have to deal with anyone at that point. I was filled with shame and disappointment, that I feel like interacting with people will just force me to be "okay" temporarily. From there, I just wanted to give up, primarily my journey as a college student. But at this point, it's extremely petty of me to give up this early, right? Right. I needed an excuse to run in my head and in other people's, too. So why not apply for a LoA status for 1 sem and figure out where things will go from here? And I did just that, but not exactly.

To tell you the truth, there was some bits of geniune hope that my LoA period will bring some positive results. I intended to stay in Cavite for the full extent of my Leave for the change in environment, and plan to shift to Education course when I get back. Of course, my aunt didn't accept that at first, so I just had to make a compromise with her. I said that I'll spend my Leave considering my option to stay in Pol Sci as well. I never did it though, but I had to say it just so I will be allowed to push through. Again, Pol Sci is such a wonderful course. Unfortunately, it's not what's for me. From here on and out, somehow things didn't go as planned for me.

As I've said earlier, there was a glimmer of hope in this decision, but things went differently when it started to become busy at home. There was an ongoing construction for our new garage and my aunts were constantly going out to do whatever they were doing. Since the rest of the people apart from me and Lola were not at home during the day, I was very much needed to be at home all the time to "watch over" my lola and the construction workers in case they might need something. My plan to leave for Cavite was put on hold until the time came when I wasn't just up for it anymore. You see, even after the construction was over, we kept having visitors over and over again. I was a complete shut-in, so leaving my room with tons of visitors outside was a tightrope I'm not willing to walk on. It was just very hard for me to find a good chance to ask for permission and leave the house.

It kept going on and on like that until one day, I just woke up with not even a single pint of hope and positivity to be found in me. Along with that, any vision of a good future for me was also gone. I consider myself a positive thinker. Even with a bad coping mechanism when things fuck up, as long as I can see a chance for things to get better, I will find myself being okay one way or another. But now, everything is just dark. I cannot see anything at all. I kept telling myself, "Something was there before." But now, I can't even remember what it was anymore.

During these times, I kept going on and off with interacting with people. I am very much conflicted with how I view my friends at that point. I think they were just big distractions to me. All their happy, sad, or even random stories are just for me to temporarily forget my own reality. I committed to talk to these people when they need someone to talk to but it wasn't easy for me to listen to them without thinking of how unfair life is for me. Regardless, I remained as a "true" friend to them until the very end. I'm sorry.

The tables have turned completely and I just can't recognize my situation anymore. This wasn't how things are meant to go. Or perhaps, it was? At this point, it doesn't matter. Things have been going downhill for a long time now that it just feels like any bad thing that happens to me is just a part of an endless streak of unfortunate events. Somewhere along the line, I just decided to finally give up for real. 

I began my plan to officially drop out of college. I did say "plan" but given the lack of vision that I have, I really didn't have much apart from planning to permanently stay in Cavite. As for my primary "excuse", I just don't think I can pursue something that I have no motivation for. Me staying in UP will just be an utter waste of time and financial resources if this goes on. 

I asked several friends of mine for their opinions and advice regarding this decision because I recognize my state of mind isn't as optimal as it should be at that time. Their opinions varied quite a bit, but the bottom line of most of them was that "It's up to me." Personally, I dislike this a lot purely because I think I'm very much aware of that fact. I ask for people's take on my problem because I want to know what THEY want for me, what THEY think the better choice is for me. I ask those because those are the things that I do not know yet. Anyway, I still valued their words as I work my mind around things. Thank you.

Finally, with all these said and done, I still had to ask for my aunts' GO signal if I intend to push through this path. If our talk about my LoA ended up in a compromise, this time I cannot compromise anything anymore. I was going to keep convicing them until they're finally okay with it. But my emotions were the ones that gave up first. My aunts kept pushing for me to enroll the next semester even if I was already a week late in the enrollment period. Their persistence was just as I expected but hearing it directly iritated me so much that I just lashed out on them.

"You just don't understand me at all! At this point, I feel like I might end up killing myself someday!" I shouted.

That was the first time I ever mentioned that to anyone directly.

I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

My hands were shaking.

I wasn't able to talk.

I shed no tears but my heart was crying.

I realized that I was no longer capable of having a conversation with them so I stormed out of the room.

My legs were numb.

The numbness went all over my body.

I couldn't bend my knees at all.

I had to penguin-walk towards my room.

I fell on my bed without bending a single joint.

I felt weak.

This went on for at least 10 minutes until I finally calmed down.

That was my last conversation with them. 2 days later, I finally left the household and now I'm here in Cavite.

In the end, I committed a lot of mistakes yet again. I wasn't able to convince my aunts regarding my decision. I wasn't able to meet a couple of friends before I left for Cavite. I wasn't able to officially drop out and now I'm in an indefinite period of unofficial leave.

If this is a story of my greatest comeback of all time, oh how great that would be. But I don't want to stupidly believe in such unlikely thing. I'm sorry.

Extra stories:

For reference: I incurred an Academic Delinquency tag and was put on a Probationary status for not passing more than 50 percent of my total units in one sem. In that sem, I only passed 2 of my Japanese classes (obviously because of my prior background), and my Econ class because of a curve I think. Also, 1 of the Japanese classes isn't technically creditted to me since I already had 5 out of 6 cognate courses done in my curriculum.

For the record, I don't care about my grades as long as they're not failing. Maybe even if I fail a couple, I wouldn't mind. But what I do mind is the implication of the strings of failures especially when concentrated in one semester. It definitely tells something about me and my current path. I felt like I had to step back and I did, permanently.

While I was in UP processing my LoA application, I met a girl who was also settling her Academic Delinquency status. She was hospitalized during finals week resulting to her failing all her classes back then. I honestly felt much more disappointed in myself since she was still determined to keep pushing through even after such an inevitable setback. I hope she's getting closer to her finish line by now.

During my Leave, I intended to study and take the N4 level in JLPT which is the official examination to determine one's Japanese proficiency level. I did study "unorganizedly" for a few months, but eventually lost interest and gave up. I lost sight of whatever purpose there was for pursuing it. I just saw it as a way to distract myself.

[therealkn]

David’s Resolution - Day 7

Day 7 (January 7, 2019)

Traffic (2000)

“Well, you’ve done a fine job, General. The Office of National Drug Control Policy is in better shape than when you found it.” “I’m not sure I made the slightest difference. I tried. I really did.”

Making a movie about why drugs are bad and why you shouldn’t do them is easy. You don’t even need the length of a movie to do it, unless you really want to go into the nitty gritty about it like Darren Aronofsky. But then you have Traffic, which is about drugs but also not about drugs.

The film is adapted from a late 1980s British miniseries called Traffik and directed by Steven Soderbergh, a filmmaker who got his big break in the late ‘80s with his debut feature sex, lies, and videotape (which will be reviewed soon). He had a busy year in 2000, directing both this film and Erin Brockovich, which were both nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture. Traffic won, in case you’re curious. But enough about Soderbergh, I’ll talk more about him when I get to sex, lies, and videotape. Back to this movie.

Like the miniseries it’s based on, Traffic follows multiple storylines that explore the War on Drugs on various levels and in various ways. The first story we see is what we’ll call the “Javier” story, which focuses on Mexican cop Javier Rodriguez (Benicio del Toro, in the role that earned him Best Supporting Actor and for damn good reason). The film opens with him and his partner Manolo doing a drug bust, only for them to get intercepted by the military, who pull a “we’ll take over from here” and handle the criminals and drugs themselves. Javier, who is a slightly crooked cop but otherwise more moral than most, is soon recruited by General Salazar, the official responsible for the confiscated bust at the beginning of the film, to help him bust the cartel that’s operating in the area, which gives Javier concern about the people he’s working with and what their intentions really are...

The next one we see is the “Wakefield” storyline, which follows Robert Wakefield (Michael Douglas), an Ohio state judge who is chosen as the new “drug czar” to head the War on Drugs. As he travels the country learning more about the War and the drug trade and how it works on every level, he has his own personal war to deal with: his daughter Caroline (Erika Christensen), an honors student in a good private school, is a habitual drug user who quickly becomes an addict after her boyfriend Seth (Topher Grace, back when we knew him as Eric Forman in That ‘70s Show) introduces her to freebasing. It isn’t long before Caroline goes into a downward spiral and Wakefield does what he can to help his daughter, and his personal struggle will have an effect on his new job and how he’ll carry it out.

And finally, there is the “DEA”/”Ayala” storyline, which follows three central figures: DEA agents Montel Gordon (Don Cheadle) and Ray Castro (Luis Guzmán), who bust drug dealer Eduardo Ruiz (the late and great Miguel Ferrer), which leads to the arrest of his boss Carl Ayala (Steven Bauer). As Ruiz is set to testify against Carl, Carl’s trophy wife Helena (Catherine Zeta-Jones) is placed in a difficult situation. With her financial security and her family’s security at risk - she has a young son and is several months pregnant with another child - she’s desperate to do whatever she can to help her family and her husband, even after she learns from his lawyer (Dennis Quaid) that her husband is a drug lord. And all the while, Montel and Ray are trying to do what they can to incriminate Carl and put him away.

I’ll talk more about these three storylines on their own, but first I’ll talk about the film as a whole. Visually, the film looks amazing, with Soderbergh using distinctive color grading for each story to make them unique and to help tell them apart - washed-out yellows for the Javier storyline, cold blues for the Wakefield storyline, and warmer natural colors for the DEA/Ayala storyline. The idea of using distinct film colors for storytelling actually goes back to the days of silent cinema, where different film colors were used based on setting, mood, etc. to inform the audience of what’s happening.

The cinematography is also remarkable. Soderbergh did all the camerawork himself (his work as DP is credited under the name “Peter Andrews”) and the camerawork is just as striking as the color grading. It gives the film a documentary feel, which helps make it feel more real by giving us the perspective that we’re actually watching real life unfold, not just a scripted story. There are some more “cinematic” moments in the film, like the suspenseful sense of one character being targeted by an assassin, but it doesn’t really take away from the documentary feel and still feels like it fits the overall tone. I also want to give a shout-out to the music by Cliff Martinez. There isn’t much music in the film, and what music it has is ambient and atmospheric, but it fits perfectly with the film.

Now the storylines themselves. ...Actually, I don’t know if I’m the kind of person who should be talking about this movie. This feels like the kind of movie that’s better suited for someone more experienced and knowledgeable about film to talk about. I think I may be in over my head, and I feel this way seven days into the resolution. Fuck. ...I guess I’ll do my best to talk about why I like them in short without this being a bigger wall of text then it is already.

The Javier storyline, to me, feels like it’s the moral core of the story. Javier’s story is about a man who is surrounded by corruption and people trying to profit off of their morality, whether the lack of it by being part of the drug problem, or embracing it by trying to tell the truth and ending up getting killed. In a position where doing the right thing can and will significantly shorten your lifespan, it makes one question what to do. And Benicio del Toro handles this expertly. He earned that Oscar.

The Wakefield storyline is powerful stuff. The whole story is about a person who has to confront the personal effects of drug abuse and how it affects not just the abuser, but those who are close to them. It’s heartbreaking to see an honors student with a great record (a record that was very similar to writer Stephen Gaghan’s own high school record) fall into drug addiction, and the sad part is that this does happen in real life. And this is balanced with Wakefield’s learning more and more about the War on Drugs and simultaneously seeing the futility and necessity of the War. And the ending of this storyline, while kind of happy, is also ambiguous for reasons that will make sense once you see it.

The DEA/Ayala storyline is about desperation. Helena, a pregnant mother whose life and security are threatens, is desperate to do anything to protect her family and help her husband, and in that end becomes part of his lifestyle whether she wants it or not. And Montel and Ray are desperate to protect Ruiz and make sure he’s able to testify against Carl Ayala, especially as others want him dead. The lengths they go for their goals are fascinating to watch, and I won’t say how it all ends.

I highly recommend this movie. Just go see it. I think it’s better to see for yourself why this movie is great and what makes it work. Like I said, I’m not the best at talking about a movie like this and I don’t think I’m the right person to talk about it. So rather than hearing me try to explain it, it’s better to see it for yourself.

Next time: How many sermons will this psychopath preach?

[capnyazz-blog]

my right to die or: how i learned to stop worrying and love euthanasia

I rarely post anything personal here, I prefer to re-blog stuff about artistic works and Marxism but I feel like it’s important I get my thoughts out there on this subject: the right to die and mental illness. I will address large issues with America’s relationship with euthanasia as well as how they affect me personally.

American society has a problematic relationship both with it’s views on end of life care and mental illness. It’s at times expected for people to prolong their life as long as possible. Conversations about death are quickly shut up around “polite company.” Sick parents comfort crying children who tell their parents lines about always needing them, that they can’t help but see themselves as the child they once were still needing their parent’s guidance at times, though they themselves could be in their late forties and fifties. This isn’t to say that the loss of a parent isn’t something traumatic to someone, that they aren’t often times losing their most important role-model, but rather this is to highlight the societal pressure which manifests itself in familial expectations on how long someone should live.

A study published in Ageing and Society discussed a survey of 1600 participants with an average age of 42 and a slightly higher than average level of educational achievement found the single largest factor in people answering positively to questions like “do you want to live past 80?” was their expectations on quality of their final years. People who expected to have relatively healthy and financially secure life when reaching 80 years of age wanted to live longer, some past 100 years. Minority raced and people who identify as religious tended to want to live to or past 80.

In order for the average person to reach 80 years old they’ll generally have to receive expensive, and at times, painful, treatment towards the end of their life. American’s spend on average of $316,600 in their lifetime on medicine with half of that money being in their senior years, even more so if they make it past the age of 85.

My family carries a rare gene which triggers Lou Gehrig’s disease. I have seen my grandmother, cousins, great aunts and uncles die a, usually, slow and painful death. In the past 5 years there’s been too many to count, I think like 8 people in total, with more when you look back generations. More of my relatives carry the gene which triggers the disease, but knowing you carry the gene doesn’t tell you if you will develop ALS or when it will hit or how quickly it will take over your body. I do not know if I carry the gene because I cannot be tested unless my mother is, it would be a breach of her privacy for me to be tested. After ALS progresses typically your lungs stop working and you end up suffocating. With modern life support technology you can be kept alive in a conscious though vegetative-like state indefinitely, an option my grandmother, the most stubborn person in all of Minnesota history chose to do for sometime, like three years or so.

Seeing so many people die such a death you would think my family would have developed the skills to speak earnestly and openly about death but that just hasn’t been the case.

There has been a push among healthcare providers to have elderly patients file an advance care directive or living will with them in order to be sure that the health workers and patients are all on the same page as far as end of life care is concerned. A key point missing from many of these conversations is the option of euthanasia or assisted suicide. Currently assisted suicide is only legal in Oregon, Washington, California, Colorado, Vermont, Montana, and D.C. though, the option of withholding healthcare is almost always an option, such as do no resuscitate orders in people’s end of life plans.

Oregon was the first place in the country, and one of first places in the world, to allow doctors to prescribe a lethal amount of a drug, though not deliver the dose themselves to the patient. There is a documentary named How To Die In Oregon which follows an organization which assists people who have chosen to die after being diagnosed with a terminal illness. The film includes interviews with volunteers from the organization, patients, healthcare workers, family of those about to die, and even includes footage of the patients dying.

Belgium may have the most just and fair euthanasia laws in the world. Belgium allows for so called non-terminal patients as well as children to request physician assisted suicide. There are roughly 1400 assisted suicides preformed each year in Belgium for non-terminal (nearly always people suffering from non-treatable mental illness).

The laws and culture of Belgium regarding euthanasia is a great step forward for humanity. There can be no freedom without the freedom to control one’s own death. These laws don’t simply address the ability to have a say in one’s own death but also allows for an honest discussion on quality of life.

Most mental illnesses are treatable diseases that, like other diseases, can be addressed simply and effectively, coming in phases, sometimes for no reason, sometimes triggered by life events. With proper medical treatment the sufferer can find relief, or get their disease treated to a point where it is possible to live a full and fulfilling life despite it, typically with some combination of pharmaceuticals and talk therapy.

Some cases of mental illness are not like this though. Select cases do not come and go as episodes, rather constantly present in a severely debilitating way. My mental health problems are like this.

I have rarely felt happiness in my life. I have suffered from major depression and dysthymia, a combination sometimes called double depression, for my entire life. I do not remember a point in my life where these problems were not present, as far back as one can really remember. Simply waking up and going to school was an unbearable pain and burden my whole childhood. 9th grade year of high school I missed over 100 days of school.

I have used a variety of treatments my whole life. We would try one prescription for a while with little results then either adjust it or move onto the next one. I had pushed a psychiatrist to preform ECT on me when I was around 18 which resulted in my mother and the doctor shouting at each other, completely turning me off of that facility, the largest healthcare provider in the area. Then six months ago after a failed suicide attempt a doctor suggested ECT and we proceeded. For a while I did actually feel something resembling happiness because of the treatment but that faded and I fell back into the same slump I am so used to being in.

I found comfort in partying, never becoming dependent on drugs as others around me did, but had heavy use of them. Starting at 14 or so I had moved on from simply smoking pot to doing cocaine, drinking, smoking meth, nearly every common drug one can think of I put it inside my body. Thankfully though I had the ability to compartmentalize the drug use as simply for partying, while close friends could not. I, at times, feel responsible for two of my childhood best friends drug additions which they still wrestle with years after I introduced them to those particular drugs. For whatever reason I assumed others had the ability to be able to get really fucked up on whatever we had around and be able to walk away from those drugs just as easily. I have had to end those friendships because of the guilt I feel.

Then at 19 things got even worse. I was at a point where I was getting messed up, typically drunk, three or four days a week. I would go out with my friends at 10 pm and wouldn’t stop partying until 7-8 am, get a couple hours of sleep then do it all again the next day. I had been doing this for nearly two years. We lived only a few blocks from my college in a part of the city which was full of students. We had our own little community there, everyone knew everyone, parties almost always had an open door policy so long as you were cool.

It all changed one night where I was drinking with my friends. We were roughly half a block from our apartment, bottles of liquor in hand, it was around 4 am at this point. We see cops approach us and did what we had done so many times before and split and take off running as quickly as possible. We weren’t really concerned with tickets for minor consumption or open bottles, rather simply enjoyed the thrill of running from the cops. For reasons I still don’t know the cop decided to ignore my friends and go for me. They caught up with me tackled me to the ground, through the handcuffs on me in no time at all and proceeded to kick and punch me leaving my whole body badly beaten, bruised, and bloody. Arriving at jail their torture only continued, more beatings, being dragged by my hair. It climaxed when I was being finger printed, all the liquor I had had that night decided it was done being in my stomach, and I ended up throwing up on myself, the finger printing machine, and the cop doing my finger printing. They put me in a choke hold, drug me to my cell, stripped me naked while yelling homophobic slurs at me, and forcibly gave me an anal cavity search. I was not able to sit down for over a week after that.

After leaving jail on bail I prepared a cocktail of drugs, consumed them with a shot of whiskey, turned on some music and waited to drift off. The next day I woke up feeling absolutely awful, with yellow skin, and vomit all over me. This was by no means my first or last suicide attempt.

Thankfully the judge on my case was sympathetic to the abuse I received in custody, as well as respecting my relatively clean police record and was basically given a slap on the wrist.

The whole ordeal left me with PTSD. I cannot be around police. I’ve developed a spidey sense where I can feel when a cop is near and act in a way which will minimize any possibility of interacting with police. I have been on medications since then for treating the nightmares that I have from them, making it easier to sleep through them. I doubt that the PTSD will ever get to a point where I can function normally around police though.

All of this is to say my mental health is fucked. My medical bills have completely destroyed any hope for having a financially secure future. I can sometimes do extremely well in college despite my issues and at times have to drop out because of them. I have never made it more than three consecutive semesters without needing to stop because of my mental health. I haven’t gone more than a few weeks without some form of suicide attempt or self harm since I was nearly 13.

After I finish this post I will be walking to the store to pick up a box of razors and slicing my arms open and hopefully going deep enough to bleed to death. For some reason I have really come to like the idea of killing myself through cutting my wrists, it’s just always been the method I’ve had in mind when dying. I have used other methods, some which are generally more effective than my preferred method, without success.

Many doctors have said that it’s possible I will never live a life resembling normal because of my mental health problems and it’s treatment resistant nature. This is not a life that is worth living. My inability to feel happiness, to get myself out of bed, to feed myself, why is it I’m forced through societal norms to continue this life?

It should be my right to sit down with a doctor and explain the pain I have experienced my whole life, have them review the extensive medical history, and allow me to die in such a way that is painless and allows for me to die surrounded by my friends and family. But because it is not currently possible I am forced to use violent, painful methods to take my own life while I’m alone. I want to be able to close my eyes for the last time after seeing my family in the same room.

I fully understand the consequences of death, that there is no returning, and in my opinion, nothing on the other side. This is fine with me. Please understand that a life like this is not a life worth living and please support local initiatives which help those in deciding what their final moments will be like. Death is a part of life and one the person experiencing it should have total control over.

[cindyjane]

teaching diary #7

“I don’t want to tell teachers about my problems because it’s like, they’re people too. They have their own problems. And once they know that I have issues at home or anything like that, they start treating me differently, like saying that I’m tired or mad because of family stuff, or I’m not turning in things because of that, when really, it’s on me. And I don’t want teachers to... is the right word pity? To pity me. I don’t need their pity.”

-----

This past Wednesday, we had a PD section called “Student Voices,” where my colleague invited an alumnus who graduated from our school, Erick, to share with all of us what students like him may want in terms of connections with teachers. Erick shared a bit about his experience as a student at SFIHS, saying he was one of the students who always got sent to the office, and he didn’t feel connected to any teachers. There were teachers who always asked him about his immigration story, saying, “You can trust me. I want to help you.” And Erick was so turned off by that. 

“What I want to tell you teachers today,” Erick said, “is that you don’t need to connect with every student. I know you want to, but it’s okay. Connections will happen. And think of me, I was changed by my 11th grade college and career teacher. I asked him about financial aid, he gave me some information, and somehow we just started talking, and it was natural. I felt really connected to him even though he wasn’t telling me he could help me or do anything for me, because I know that most of the time, teachers can’t. Teachers always tell me, ‘You’re so strong,’ and ‘You’ve been through so much,’ and I hear that all the time, and I don’t need to hear that anymore.”

The room was quiet. I looked around and noticed some of my colleagues wiping their tears.

“Because I was connected to that one teacher, my life was changed,” Erick said. “I went to college, now I help out with students afterschool, and I’m back here to help other students who are just like me, the ones who get sent to the office, causing trouble, because they just want that connection. I want to give back because of the connection I made here. And so that’s why I say, you don’t need to connect with every student. When you make that one connection, that one student can go and make even more connections. So you’re not just helping one student. You’re helping a lot of people with that one connection.”

I was touched by Erick’s sharing, but to be quite honest, I wasn’t surprised by what he shared. I thought making connections with students wasn’t the most challenging thing to do, since I felt like my students opened up to me pretty quickly. During the Q&A session, the only teachers who asked additional questions were white teachers. 

After PD, I talked to my colleague who invited Erick to share, and she said, “Erick had to change his main message. He still got to share honestly, but what he shared wasn’t the entire message. What he really wanted to share with us was that, yes, teachers shouldn’t force students to share their story in order to build that connection and trust, but also, that our students would definitely want to share more with our teachers of color than our white teachers. That’s just how it is because of a shared experience between people of color that white teachers will never even come close to understanding. When Erick pitched that idea to admin, they said, ‘No, you shouldn’t say that because it will hurt the white teachers’ feelings. Teachers are already going through a lot, so don’t say that.’ So Erick had to change his message.”

As I’m writing this post, I’m processing the implications of that decision. Admin wanted to protect certain teachers, specifically white teachers. The message that Erick shared seemed pretty self-explanatory to me and many other colleagues of color that I checked in with later, so it seemed to me that Erick wanted to share a specific message to the white teachers who were trying so hard to build connections with our students. 

How often are people of color censored for the sake of protecting white people’s feelings?

-----

I went to visit CCSF today to check on some of my students and chat with professors about students’ progress. On the way to one of the classes, I saw Steve looking dejected, carrying his skateboard and sulking down the hall alone. I called his name and asked why he looked so sad.

“Miss, this week sucks. Like I feel like every teacher has gotten mad at me, and I don’t know why, I’m just stressed. And did you hear what happened with me and Mr. Kyle yesterday?”

I didn’t know. My colleague left early yesterday so we didn’t get to check in as usual. 

“Well, pretty much I asked Ms. Amanda to use the computer lab to record a video, and I lied to her and said that I needed to record a video for city college when it was just for fun. And then Mr. Kyle found out that I lied and told me that I had to apologize to Ms. Amanda. I was just so mad yesterday already, so when he told me that I had to apologize, I just couldn’t take it. He told me I had to apologize because of honor. I didn’t understand what he meant, and I was already mad, so I said, ‘Fuck honor.’”

Steve stopped, looked up at me, and then continued.

“I was just so mad, Miss. And the thing is, I was already planning on apologizing to Ms. Amanda, but because Mr. Kyle told me to, I got mad because I didn’t want to do it just because he told me to. And I don’t think I’m a bad student, but I was so mad that I said, ‘Fuck honor,’ and I think other students in the class heard me say that. So now I feel bad but I’m still mad about it. I just have a lot of things going on at home, and every teacher has been getting mad at me, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

I asked Steve if Mr. Kyle knew about his family problems.

“I don’t want to tell him about all the stuff that’s been going on. And I don’t want to tell teachers about my problems because it’s like, they’re people too. They have their own problems. And once they know that I have issues at home or anything like that, they start treating me differently, like saying that I’m tired or mad because of family stuff, or I’m not turning in things because of that, when really, it’s on me. And I don’t want teachers to... is the right word pity? To pity me. I don’t need their pity. And I’m always a happy student, I like to make jokes, and I don’t like to show people that I have a lot of things going on. So I don’t want teachers to treat me differently or ask me about my problems.”

I appreciated Steve’s honest sharing, and he was very reflective about the ways he could’ve been more respectful. We discussed his options for apologizing to both teachers, but ultimately, he knew it was his choice. 

“How old are you, Steve?” 

“Twenty,” and he laughed.

“Alright then. You’re an adult. You can decide for yourself what you think is best to do. I didn’t even hear this story from Mr. Kyle or Ms. Amanda since you’re not my student, so I probably won’t even know if you end up apologizing to either of them. But you’re an adult. You can decide for yourself and make up your mind on how you want to handle this situation. You decide if you think it’s important to talk things out with Mr. Kyle and Ms. Amanda, if those relationships are worth mending. I’m going to leave this in your hands.”

-----

These last 2 weeks have been rough. I don’t know if it’s because everyone’s desperately crawling towards spring break, so this final push seems extra strenuous. Students have been stressed out and tired, teachers (myself included) haven’t been as patient, and everyone’s feeling the need for this break. 

I’ve had so many difficult conversations with students these last two weeks alone that I wanted to document all of them in my teaching diaries to reflect on later. But I think Erick’s talk during PD and my conversation with Steve, who isn’t even my student, were the stories that stood out to me and shed some light on the importance of relationships in teaching. As teachers, we’re not working with lifeless things; we’re working with real people with real feelings and real experiences. People have opinions. People have reactions. And sometimes those reactions create ripple effects. Teachers’ moods affect student reactions and vice versa. It’s such a beautiful but messy relationship (co-dependency perhaps?) where teachers and students have to rely on each other and trust each other to make things work. 

Spring break... I’m so ready for you. Some distance from my work and my students might be necessary right about now. More reflections to come. 

[documentinq]

7/21/17

Why do I always have such big gaps between posts lol I need to start posting more. I re read everything I posted and just really have to get this out there, ive loved a lot of people. But all of them have been different types of love, I don’t think ive ever actually been in love. I love my current boyfriend kevin but we’ve only been together 4 months and I know im going to be with him for the rest of my life so that love has room to grow in a healthy way. What scares me most about myself is my imagination. i have 2 different types of “love” ive felt. Group 1 consists of: Justus Carr, Noah Coombs, and Austin Mahone. Group 2 consists of: Michael, Dylon, and Kevin. I have loved 6 people, all in very different ways. Group 1 was me being in love with the idea of what could be/have been and group 2 was me loving the reality. Ive always had a vivid imagination and thats often whats set me back in relationships. My unrealistic expectations and fantisies overshadowed how i was being treated. I was so blinded by the possibilities of what we could be that i was incapable of focusing on what was right in front of me. The thing about being in love with an idea that nobody ever wants to admit is that its one of the most powerful loves you can feel, but its the loneliest because the person/relationship you want to be in love with doesnt even exist. Their empty promises and leading you on only makes you more interested. The chase makes you feel alive and you feel like if you cut it off you’ll miss out on this great big prize. But the truth is there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and that rainbow you’ve been chasing can’t even be touched, its nothing but a beautiful illusion. Justus was my first love, though it was all in my head it was the first time a boy had been able to make my heart drop just by him looking at me. I was only in 7th grade. He never knew how i felt about him because he was my friends older brother but I looked up to him so much and i tried so hard to be a better person simply because he inspired me to be so. Noah Coombs, hah. theres a tricky one. It pains me to say I still feel love for him but i almost want to make a separate category for this type of love. I know he never loved me back and never even understood why I felt the way I did but thats just how it is. I would never want to be with him in a million years because our past has been so toxic and hes a terrible person but ive always gotten the strangest feeling from the universe from him. I think one of the reasons ive always been so obsessed with him was because there were like a million coincidences that kept happening everytime i said i was done with him, as if God kept telling me nope he will never ever leave your life. He even moved to LA after I did hahahha but anyways, I was infactuated with the idea of what we could be and didnt even think i loved him until we “broke up” or whatever. His absesnce drove me insane and his games intrigued me with a passion. Like deadass I would choose kevin over noah anyday but I know I will never feel a love that intense and heartbreaking in my whole life but thats okay because only toxic loves can drive someone to a crazy love like that and its kind of cool knowing no one will ever be able to cause me as much pain as he did to my little 16 year old heart. Austin Mahone, haha another tricky one. We never met but I considered him my best friend for a while. But the fact we never met I think is what made me love him to an unhealthy degree. I was crazy over thinking of what we could be and how perfect he was. I was blinded by it but the truth is hes not perfect at all and i see it now with all the clarity in the world. He was my friend but when we were together he brought me down to make himself look better and i never felt good enough for him. He was litterally just another Dylan who went to church lmfao. I wish him the best and I know we will cross paths in the future but I am so thankful i didnt meet him or have sex with him. Im just glad that relationship ended because it was toxic as well. He just lead me on the whole time and was more in love with the chase than he was with me. Now lets talk about group 2, the type of love where at the time you feel like its gonna last forever. Michael was my best friend for a year and then we started dating but I got a feeling it was wrong so I just dropped it all of a sudden. Dylon, he was the type of love that was perfect for me at the time but also terrible for me at the time. terrible bc i was about to move across the country but perfect because i hadn’t had that type of relationship in a long time. he cared about me a lot but we were very different and there were so many things about him and our relationship that screamed to me he wasnt the right person for me, plus his anger issues were out of control. Now Kevin.... kevin is the type of love i wish i had with dylon. Like, I definetly loved dylon at the time but there were things missing with dylon that ive found with kevin. Kevin has the perfect sense of humor, hes trusting and caring, and so fucking attractive. The only doubts I have for our relationship is my fear of the future, what is he going to do for a career? I want him to pursue his passion as a comedian bc I have full faith in him, hes the funniest guy ive ever met.. but I dont know what his deal is. He has all these friends in the entertainment bussiness but isn’t making any moves. I want him to be successful but I don’t know how to talk to him about this without hurting his feelings. He isn’t where he should be in life, hes unemployed living in a frat house. I mean a lot of it is because of his mistakes in the past, hes had plenty of great opportunities come his way but he screwed all of them up with his drug addictions but hes so much better now and im just praying more opportunities will come his way. I love him and I want to support him but our relationship wont last if he doesn’t get his shit together, hes 25 and doesn’t even have his liscense bc he got it taken away bc of drunk driving a few years ago, and he can go and get it now from the dmv but he doesn’t even have the money rn to get a lisence. and i know his parents are rich and hes gonna get money from his family eventually but i don’t want that to be the only thing hes betting on? I want him to live up to his full potential and hes not doing drugs anymore but his past mistakes have set him back so much these struggles are taking a toll on him. and i know right now is the time he needs me most so obviously i wouldnt end things but where is the line where I need to cut things off? I want to start a life with this man, I want to move into a little studio appartment in LA just us two and me do my music shit and him do his comedy shit and it would be perfect. But I know im not doing perfect either, I’m broke as fuck too but im focusing on my music right now and once that kicks off theres no limits to how high im able to go. i’m also only 18... 18 and broke is not nearly as bad as 25 and broke. But the thing is I don’t want to talk to him about it because he KNOWS these problems hes depressed as fuck about all of this and he regrets all of his past mistakes but i dont know what hes doing to fix them like when he thinks of how to make money quick he just turns to illegal shit like selling drugs. I know he has great potential but when is enough enough? He treats me so well and I really do love him, I honestly havent vibed this hard with a guy since noah. literally. I know i said that before about dylon but i really do realize i just met him when i was in a very fragile state and clung onto him, but hes literal trash lol. Kevin is so different from anyone ive ever been with, hes honestly 10x better of a person for me than noah ever was and I do believe hes my soulmate which is why I need to stick with him through this hard time, he just needs prayer. I used to think Noah was my soulmate but I know thats not true now, what I do know is that the universe did make sure noah was a big influence in my life for some reason. I don’t know what that reason is right now but I know i’ll find out within the next few years lol. The song im recording rn i dedicated to my mom but i initially wrote the first few verses bc of kevin because i want him to make a change in his life. The song definelty applies to my mom more but it does apply to kevin as well. Its about how a person will never change for you and they have to want to change for themselves first before they will ever consider changing for anybody else. Kevin will never change his life for me, he has to want it for himself and I will continue to try and motivate him but I’m giving it till December, if Kevin isn’t financially stable enough to have his own place and doesn’t have a career I’m going to give him a break until he finds himself. his birthday is in January and being 26 and unemployed is so unnacceptable. Because love really isn’t always going to be enough to save a relationship.

[rueur]

Morning Pages #48 (26.05.2017)

Friday 26th May - 10:37 p.m.

It’s been a tough couple of days. I moved out, for starters. I’m living in Thornbury now, with Lauren in this one-bedroom place that’s not too far at all from Evan’s house. Despite this, however, I’ve barely seen Evan this past week. I moved on Wednesday (the 24th), and the weekend before that I’d been packing mostly. And Malith and Gen broke up so I’d been talking Malith through that. It’s been an odd period of time for him, because he always had a hunch that he wasn’t cut out for romance and now - at the age of twenty-one - his first legitimate relationship has fizzled before it had even begun because neither of them would let it begin. Gen never made time for him and Malith was always talking to other people about his qualms with Gen rather than talking to Gen. I’m only rehashing this for myself now through these pages because I saw the disconnect form between Malith and Gen and I was equally aware of the negative behaviours they had both been exhibiting before the break-up, as well as the fact that their communication issues were somewhat linked to the fact that they spent very little time together, really. They texted and called each other a lot, but they were lucky to actually physically be with each other once a week or so.

And now Evan’s finally secured his apprenticeship and he’s on his way to becoming a qualified barber, and I’m looking for work and contemplating what I’m going to do about my final assessments for this semester, as well as the rest of this year. I booked a meeting with a student adviser last week to see if I could get my double major and it turns out that I don’t have enough subjects left in my degree to be able to do that. So I’m stuck with the creative writing major and the environmental studies minor, and I also just found out that the minor doesn’t even appear on your physical Bachelor’s Degree. It’s just in your student transcript, which nobody looks through anyway, I mean nobody bothers. I’m eating a lot of lollies right now, like more lollies than I should be eating, because I’m a tad depressed. I just miss Evan, a lot. But tomorrow’s a big day for him and I’m so so proud of him too. I just want him here. Since I showed him this blog I’m kind of curious whether he’s read anything on his own. I wonder if he’s read any of the more recent pages, because they’re all to do with him. I just don’t want him to go too far back because of all the stuff with Ikaros. I just don’t want him to know the extent of that, I mean the pain and how little I thought of myself for that entire period. Thankfully though, I only really recorded the end of that relationship.

It’s 11:26 p.m., and I was talking to Lauren. She came home at around ten to eleven. It’s been pretty lovely living with her so far, as I thought it would be. My eating habits are yet to settle in, I think, but aside from that it’s been fairly smooth sailing. Evan stayed over last night for the first time. We were supposed to go to the Slama Grand Slam, and we did for about a half hour, and sat in some seats by the front for like five minutes, before we started talking about how little we’ve been able to see each other and about how this will more than likely get worse before it gets better because we’re both on the verge of being really really busy, me with assessments AND making rent, and Evan with his apprenticeship. So, after talking in the audience for a few minutes, we decided to pack up our things and just leave. Just go home and spend the night in. And it was a fantastic decision, although I’m trying not to think about what I’m going to do my feature piece on now for my Writing Journalism final assessment. It’ll come to me. I think I’ll just ask Charlotte if I can interview her again, because we weren’t able to properly meet up last time anyway. I briefly saw her before the grand slam, before I bailed. I’m going to have to explain to her that I didn’t even see her perform, which might be a little difficult considering I didn’t care enough about her poetry to stick around, but I do care about it enough to use it for a good grade. Eugh. I’m really not enjoying Writing Journalism. Journalists seem more and more like weasels the more I have to become one. I have little to no desire to become a weasel. My iPod is on shuffle and it’s been playing the grooviest stuff, and without my having to prompt it. Right now it’s ‘Do You Love Me’ by The Contours. ‘I’m Still Waiting’ by Diana Ross was playing when Lauren got home. And Chance was playing earlier. Oooh! Now it’s ‘The Gambler’ by fun. This song has grown on me. It reminds me of Evan, a little, just the first bit of the first verse, and the last verse. It just feels like a life I want to live with him.

I met his grandfather today, George. Evan calls him ‘Gung-gung’. He took us out to lunch at this cafe right by his house. We were with him for about an hour, and he mostly spoke about his work as an accountant. He had a pretty eventful career, saw a lot of old Melbourne city and of the Victorian countryside in the 60s, 70s, 80s. It was pretty fascinating listening to him talking about it all; it was an honour to have met him too. He had a table in his living room with family photos, photos of Evan and his cousins when they were younger, and of Gung-gung’s own children - Evan’s mum and her siblings. I’d seen the photos of little Evan before, and one of Christina looking groovy. But seeing it all out on that table had a whole different effect on me. I was immediately reminded of all the photos that my grandparents had in their old house in Thomastown, and of the photos that are still hanging in my grandfather’s room in Mill Park, of his family. Of Baba Singho and his children and stepchildren, of my grandmother before she died, and of my great-grandmother who may or may not have been me in a past life. I just don’t know what to think about the future right now, I mean with the present being so problematic. After my student advisor meeting, I feel so unenthusiastic about finishing my degree. I just don’t see the point if all my passion and work in the geography subjects won’t even go credited because of the limitations of my major. I didn’t even know I would enjoy geography this much, like how was I supposed to know at the age of seventeen what I wanted to get a bachelor’s degree in?!

But that’s not even what I’m most concerned about right now. I’m most concerned about growing old and being happy, of being able to say I did what I loved for my whole life. I honestly don’t know what to do with my writing anymore. I don’t like screenwriting for the most part, because it just seems like a totally passionless and simplistic form of writing, and it makes me a tad sad that this medium is most likely going to be the most financially promising for me in the industry, in terms of being a professional writer. I just don’t know what to do about all my prose, like if anybody even wants to read it at all. Nobody wants to hear my slam poetry, nobody wants to read my poetry, nobody wants to read my prose. I don’t even want to read my prose. I don’t even want to write my prose anymore. I don’t know what I want. I feel so incredibly lost. Evan told me a while ago that he was feeling lost before he got his trial shift at Kings Domain, but he didn’t tell me at the time that he was falling into a dark place. Now I feel like I’m in his position. I’m starting to feel hopeless about school. I don’t know what I want to do with myself after school. I don’t know what I can do either. I want to work in community development, I think. I want to contribute to community spaces. I don’t even know what that means entirely. I just know that I want to feel like my art is making a difference, and I want to be somewhat collaborative because creative people coming together to solve problems creatively just feels like my cup of tea. Is there a way that my degree will allow me to do that? Is there a way that my major can somehow make me qualified to do this? My hopes are low, but my hopes are usually low, and I shouldn’t be sending that kind of energy out into the world. I should be more like Evan, and just know. Just have faith. That things will work out for the best and in the best possible ways. When you are ready rather than when you want it.

I had a trial shift this morning at a cafe in Collingwood: Mavis the Grocer. It was a dream to work there for the hour that I was in, it honestly was. The atmosphere was so kind and accommodating, and the people moreso. The kitchen was warm and cosy, and so unlike any other kitchen I’d been in. Thailander was somewhat familiar after a while, but it was always still so mechanical, psychotically efficient and oftentimes void of passion. Mavis, on the other hand, was like your aunt’s parlour on a Sunday afternoon. The earthy smell of hot coffee was in the air. Big pots were simmering on the wide stove. I was busily wrapping falafel into lebanese bread and then securing these gorgeous rolls with baking paper, and I felt like this is a place I would love to be every morning. I would absolutely just love to be here, making everyone breakfast and giving them just a fantastic start to their day, as a thank you for giving me a fantastic start to mine too. Oh fuck. I’ve had so much fucking sugar in the past hour or so, this cannot be good for me. I feel like I should do some push ups or something before bed, because I feel kind of sick and also I haven’t properly exercised in a bit, that is unless you count all the heavy lifting and running around I’ve been doing during this move and also during my job hunt. I mean I’ve more or less gotten a job, at a pizza place in Rosanna. But it’s dodgy as all hell and it’s another cash-in-hand place, it seems, even though in my actual job interview (a week or so ago now) they asked me what I wanted to be paid and they said they were happy with my asking for over seventeen dollars an hour. Lord have mercy on me, what do I actually need to do to get a job that I feel is worthy of me? What do I need to do to find myself in a place like Mavis?

The guy who may or may not hire me, Josh, is actually one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. I just don’t want to have let him down, honestly. And Hajime, the Japanese-born chef who essentially single-handedly runs the kitchen, is so genuine and warm and I could TOTALLY work with him every morning. I could totally go to work happy every fucking morning, I just want this job! I’ll find out if I’ve gotten it tomorrow morning. It’s midnight now. I feel like I should sleep. I know Evan’s probably asleep right now. He’s got a busy day tomorrow. Lauren doesn’t start work till three, so I think she and I will be cooking in the morning tomorrow, which I’m looking forward to. I could do with some quality roommate time. It’s been three or so days of living here now and we’ve both been super busy, too busy to actually speak that much, so I’m looking forward to tomorrow morning. I’m not looking forward to sleeping alone though. It’s cold here.