#like if i decide not to go to vet school someday i could see myself going into dog training/service dog work

[teabookgremlin]

got a little personal thing to get out bc i don’t feel like talking about it with people in my real life right not

so i’ve mentioned before on here that i’m currently working with a service dog in training for an organization via a club at my school. the dog i’m working with, justice, has fairly strong anxiety around new people but other than that has been doing amazingly in her training. i’ve had her for about 2 months now and have loved it, it’s hard but it’s a really rewarding experience. today i got a text from one of the professional trainers in the organization that, due to justice’s anxiety, they are looking at placing her with someone else for a while to see if it’s a phase or not. now i fully get that a college campus is an overwhelming place for a dog and that if it is a just an anxious phase this is a rough place to work through it. i also obviously want what’s best for her and her training, that is the priority, that is the commitment i made when signing up to be a puppy raiser. it’s just hard to feel like i did something wrong or that i failed her in some way. i know that this being considered is just due to justice and her issues and my environment maybe not being the best place for her. i’m just really struggling with the possibility of her leaving me so much earlier than expected. it’s also hard because i am finally finding a community here at college in my fellow puppy raisers and i (somewhat selfishly) don’t want to lose that by no longer having a dog i’m working with. i meet with a professional trainer on thursday to discuss and figure out if justice will be placed with someone else and i’m so so so nervous. the hardest part is that i truly think she would be better off being placed somewhere else. i just wish i could acknowledge that without feeling like i did something wrong. because i know that i have done the best that i possibly can with this dog. it also doesn’t help that one of the dogs in the college program recently got moved due to her raiser being irresponsible so i’m also scared of people thinking that a similar thing is happening with me. i hope we can figure out what’s best for justice and i hope that whatever it is allows her to overcome her anxiety and eventually have a career because i think she’d be an amazing service animal. i just wish it wasn’t so hard.

[fridayfirefly]

Retirement

Read Retirement on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 21 - Domestic Bliss

The first time Marinette and Garfield ever discussed retirement was before they even started dating. For superheroes, retirement was just a fact of life. One day, if you make it long enough, you'll put down the suit and you'll never pick it up again. Maybe someone will take your place. Hopefully, no one will need to. But no matter how strong you are, not even if you're Superman in his prime, the simple fact was that someday you would retire.

"What do you think you'll do after you retire?" Marinette mused to Garfield. Out of all the Titans, Marinette spent the most time around Gar, simply because the two of them spent a lot of time in the living room. Marinette liked the ambient noise that his video games provided when she worked on her projects, and Gar liked to have someone to talk to while he played. Most of Marinette's current focus was on the embroidery in her hands, as she stitched vines running down the sleeves of her shirt, but she still took the time to start a conversation with Gar.

"I dunno..." Gar glanced up from the game he was playing. "What'll you do once you give up being Ladybug."

"That's a tough question. I used to think that I wanted to run a big fashion company, like Agreste Fashion, but now I think I want something a little more low-key. In my ideal future, I own a little boutique where I make custom clothing. There would be a fabric store and a café on the same block as me, and I would never have to leave the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice. I think I might try going to college and see where that takes me. I applied to Jump City University right before Christmas, and they accepted me. If I went, I would start classes in the fall.”

Marinette’s head jerked up as she gave Gar her full, undivided attention. “I’m going to JCU next fall!” she exclaimed excitedly. “We might have classes together. What are you planning on majoring in?”

Gar shrugged, “JCU has a veterinary program that I'm interested in. I'd be taking animal behavior, biology, chemistry, and a whole bunch of other science classes.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s nothing much. I didn’t expect them to accept me, anyway.”

Gar seemed oddly subdued about the idea of going to college. He was a naturally enthusiastic person, which made it very out of character for him to be so dismissive. It worried Marinette. “No, you deserve praise for your accomplishment. Jump City University is a very selective school.”

“I’m not a genius. I’m just me.”

“You’re smart, Gar, I know you are. Getting accepted to JCU is just one of the many reasons why you are brilliant.”

“Are you gonna name them all for me?” joked Gar.

His question was rhetorical, just a joke, but Marinette wasn't finished convincing Gar that he deserved all the praise in the world. “For starters, you can finish any video game in less than a day. Even the ones where you need logic and strategy, you fly right through them. Secondly, you’re a genius when it comes to animals. And it’s not just because of your superpower. You taught yourself animal behavior so that you could blend in with the animals you’re imitating. Thirdly, you pretend not to be invested in politics, but I’ve seen how you keep yourself informed about environmental policies and activism. You really care about the planet. Fourthly-“

"Alright, Buginette,” laughed Gar, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’ve proven your point.”

Marinette set her embroidery down on the coffee table and moved to Gar's couch. "Is this game multiplayer?"

"Yep. Do you want to play a few rounds?"

"Hmm... I think I could spare a few minutes to kick your butt."

"Please. I'm going to squash you like the little bug you are."

"You wish!"

----------

The next time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was well after they started dating. They got together in their Junior year at JCU after spending two years in relationship limbo, with both too nervous to make the first move. They finally confessed their feelings for each other after Dick and Starfire locked them in a closet together until they admitted that they liked each other. They graduated college as a couple, with Gar planning on attending veterinary school and Marinette planning on starting up her fashion business. That summer they spent a lot of time talking about the future.

"I've been thinking of recruiting someone to take over as Ladybug," remarked Marinette as she cuddled up next to Gar on the couch.

"Really? Who do you have your eye on?" asked Gar.

"Wonder Woman recently took on a new protege, Cassie Sandsmark. The Ladybug Miraculous already has some connections to Wonder Woman and her home of Themyscira. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, was a wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous for quite some time."

"If you gave up the Miraculous would you still fight crime?"

Marinette shook her head. "I think it might be time to give up crimefighting. It's been ten years since I took up the Ladybug Miraculous to fight Hawkmoth, and six years since Hawkmoth was defeated. I wasn't ready to give up that responsibility then, but I think I'm ready now."

"When would you give up the Miraculous?"

"Soon. I talked to Wonder Woman about it last week and she's enthusiastic about the idea. I would need to spend some time getting to know Cassie, just to make sure she's a good fit, and Tikki would need to vet her as well, but I have a good feeling that she'll pass any tests of character we put her through." Marinette turned to face Gar. "I didn't want to make any concrete decisions before I talked to you. I know that we've always fought crime together, but I'm ready to move on with my life. I'm ready to retire."

Gar nodded. "I understand and I fully support your decision. I've been considering leaving the Titans as well. I know I could continue living in the Tower and attend veterinary school at JCU, but last week I got an acceptance letter from UC Davis for their School of Veterinary Medicine."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Gar, that's amazing! I remember looking into UC Davis when you were applying, and their program is nationally ranked."

Gar grinned. "The best in the country. It's too good to pass up."

"You have to go!" exclaimed Marinette. "This is your dream!"

"I think I'll send in my acceptance tomorrow," decided Gar. "Maybe we can go to Davis this weekend and scout out an apartment."

"And fabric stores," chimed in Marinette.

Gar laughed. "Anything for you, Buginette."

----------

The final time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was years later. Marinette and Gar had gotten married and had moved back to Jump City. Marinette opened her fashion boutique, which had very quickly exploded in popularity. Gar started working for a non-profit veterinary clinic, which provided free veterinary services to lower-income neighborhoods. They had both achieved their dreams, and yet neither seemed content with their lives.

"Maybe we just need a change of scenery," suggested Marinette, leaning her head against Gar as they both sat on the beach watching the sunset. "I'm so tired of the city."

"Maybe," said Gar. "It would be nice to have a house with a backyard, rather than just an apartment."

Marinette sighed. "I know that I always said that I wanted to be the owner of a successful boutique, but this wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm so busy that I feel like I never get to spend any time with you anymore. Every day my inbox is filled with emails asking me to sell my company or expand to more locations. I'm tired of it. My passion is for making clothes, not running a business."

"I know how you feel. Every day I encounter another neglectful pet owner who brings their animal to the clinic for help but refuses to listen to me when I tell them that they need to change the way they treat their animal. It's exhausting."

"We could both just quit our jobs and move into the woods," joked Marinette.

Gar nodded, but he wasn't joking. "I've actually been thinking about that. There are a lot of remote regions with a real need for veterinary practices to provide medical assistance for the farm animals out there. I would feel a lot more useful taking care of animals that don't have anyone else."

Marinette turned to face Gar. "I wouldn't mind moving. I've been sending all of the offers to buy my boutique straight to my email archive, but I'm sure if I looked through them all I could find someone who would be able to take care of the business aspect of Ladybug Designs. I could retire from the business and design on my own time, when the inspiration strikes, instead of forcing myself to churn out design after design."

"You really wouldn't mind?" asked Gar, a hopeful look on his face.

Marinette shook her head. "I was serious about moving out of the city. There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I've been waiting for the right moment. I think that moment is now. Gar, I'm pregnant."

The deer-in-the-headlights look on Gar's face was comical, to say the least. Marinette giggled, "Well?"

Gar snapped back to reality, transforming into an elephant, trumpeting his joy. He turned back into himself and wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I'm so happy! This is the best news I could have ever heard, Buginette. Now we have to move. I want our kid to have a backyard and a dog and a big driveway where I can teach them how to ride a bike and a pond where they can swim in the summer-"

Marinette cut Gar off with a kiss. "One thing at a time," she giggled.

"I think this will be the best decision we have ever made," declared Gar.

Marinette agreed. "I think that partial retirement will be good for us."

----------

This was bliss. The feeling of grass under Marinette’s bare feet as she walked back to the house from the lake, hand in hand with Gar. The sound of their daughter's laughter as she danced around them, catching fireflies. The taste of homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream, eaten rebelliously early as Gar proclaimed, "Dessert before dinner!" The sight of the stars up above them, no light pollution to mask the beauty of the heavens. The sound of Gar's voice, whispering, "I love you, Buginette," into Marinette's ear. And as Marinette settled into her husband's arms, she knew for certain that retirement was the best decision she had ever made.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[oftenderweapons]

Apple of my pie (2) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 2.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.0k

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst

Rating: suggested 18+ (there are brief apparitions of dirty thoughts, also future episodes will contain NSFW material); 

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin goes on his first date with Grace, who is actually a sweet person. However, during the date, he casually meets a friend who is more than capable of making him open his eyes. Meanwhile, Buttercup remembers exactly why they’re friends. The following day, the young woman faces a challenging conversation with her classmate and friend, Lara — who is also Jin’s assistant at the bakery. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sweet date; some angst between friends (Yoongi, the psychiatrist who always cuts too deep when he speaks his mind). Meet Yoongi and his sweet and horny girlfriend, Spice. Lots of swearing, especially from Lara and Buttercup towards the end. Dirty thoughts, mentions of wet dreams, playful bickering and name calling between Buttercup and Lara. There are a couple very painful references to Severus Snape and Lily Potter (lowkey Harry Potter spoilers, just in case).

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion (Spotify only, sorry 😔)

Enjoy! ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

Sitting at the pizza shack near the university campus, Seokjin realised that Grace wasn’t a plain human being.

She was actually cute and funny. He could see himself with someone like this.

Someone who didn’t make him feel dull and a bit of an understudy.

Grace liked puppies. She was at her last year of vet school, she was interning at the local animal clinic and she had spent all day visiting pregnant cows. She hoped she could assist to at least one birth, even though the first expected date of delivery was a couple days after her internship formally ended.

Jin grinned as he listened, genuinely warmed by her caring ways and her childlike laugh. Her name really did fit her. She had a gap between her front teeth and a very sweet dimple that made him grin each time it appeared. Small, a little soft in all the best ways — and best places, he had unwillingly noted — and terribly endearing.

The date wasn’t bad. At all.

And it was way more than decent. Almost too good for being a first date.

No misunderstandings, no embarrassment, no shyness whatsoever. The pizza was good — not as good as his, but it was an eight out of ten, solid — there had been no accidents of choking on drinks or on food, no talking while having mouths full, no uncomfortable flutters in his heart as he looked at her. It was warm. It all felt warm.

However, the more time went by, the more he realised that a few things were missing,

Like you, humming at how good the food was, making jokes about unsuspecting patrons sitting around you, people watching, building impossible scenarios and stories about specific clients, basing yourself on stolen snippets of their conversations.

The strident chord was the sudden appearance of a familiar face. Actually two of them, one slightly less familiar than the other.

“Seokjin?” The very familiar face called.

He turned. “Hello Yoongi!” He greeted with a smile and a small wave. “Hello Spice!” He said, turning to the woman at his side, his hand laced with hers.

“Where’s Buttercup?” Yoongi asked, before he turned and spotted a woman sitting before his friend.

That was not you. Yoongi turned to Seokjin and eyed him suspiciously, making sure that Jin’s table companion didn’t notice.

“Guys, this is Grace.” He introduced the girl.

Spice looked at Yoongi with a meaningful look before turning to the young woman.

“Nice to meet you, Grace.” She said warmly.

Grace blushed. “Nice to meet you too, guys,” she replied with a soft smile.

“We’ll leave you to your night, he seems to be enjoying your company, Grace.” Yoongi said politely, before turning to Seokjin. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Seokjin’s ears blushed. He felt ashamed, “Sure. Have a good evening,” he said, bidding his friends goodbye.

“To you too,” Spice said it’s a tight smile.

The two left, moving like one, perfect as always.

Seokjin knew how that felt. That’s how he always moved with you.

“They seem good people.” Grace noted, genuinely kind, as she had been all dinner long.

“They are.” Seokjin agreed. “And they’re smart too.” He said, beginning to worry for himself.

You weren’t in the living room when Seokjin arrived at the apartment. He was glad. He was glad he could have a few minutes to rethink about how Grace had stretched to her tiptoes with her hands laced behind her back and had placed a playful peck on his cheek before wishing him goodnight and dashing upstairs.

He was glad he wouldn’t need to confront you. And from the sounds coming from your bedroom, you were very likely watching one of those dramas and films you loved so much. Once more, he was glad.

However, that small peace lasted little.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He exhaled and picked it up.

Is Pollyanna still around?

Yoongi wrote. Seokjin shook his head in hopelessness.

I’ve just arrived home.

Yoongi called immediately. Seokjin hid into his room. “So you decided to follow Namjoon’s way?”

“I have to save myself. I can’t stand there forever, hoping for her to notice. Or to care.”

“You decided to follow the advice of a miserable man abandoned by the highschool sweetheart rather than that of other four sane men who told you to talk to her?” Yoongi said, raising his voice.

“You never said your opinion.” Seokjin noted.

“You don’t need my opinion. You didn’t care about anyone’s opinion. You had already made up your mind even before the discourse started.”

Seokjin exhaled, exasperated.

“Can’t you just say it?”

“What?” Yoongi snorted. Hearing his frustration, Spice rubbed his back trying to calm him down. He nuzzled into her warmth.

“Just say what you think for once in your life.”

Spice frowned at Seokjin’s voice blasting from Yoongi’s phone. He patted her head.

Yoongi huffed. “Fine. I think Buttercup deserves to know and choose for herself. I think she does care, no matter what you think. Also, all that self convincing you’re trying to do is just you trying to keep yourself from losing something that makes you feel comfortable. Because after all you’re comfortable, aren’t you? You just drown yourself in her so much that you don’t even have to face yourself and what you want. And we both know Pollyanna is not what you want.”

Seokjin frowned and pouted. He already knew he was being childish.

“This silence is precisely why I don’t state my opinion.” Yoongi said, speaking softly when he noticed Spice had closed his eyes beside him, on the pillow next to his. He smiled and looked at how beautiful she is. He cupped her cheek, brushing her hair off her face.

“Yoongi. I can’t go on like this forever.” Seokjin said, his voice hopeless and tired.

“I know. All I’m saying is… you should tell Buttercup first.” Yoongi replied, his voice more comprehensive and gentle.

“I am such a coward.” Jin whispered, sitting on the bed, combing his hair with his free hand.

“Listen. I know Buttercup is to you what Spice is to me. I know it.” Yoongi said, his girlfriend scooting closer to him and pressing her face to his chest. “I know I would give her anything she asks and do anything to stay as close as she allows me.” He petted her hair while her warm fingertips danced on his spine.

Seokjin shut his eyes tight. “I’m just trying to get as much as I can before they take her from me.”

“No one will ever break your bond except your lack of communication. Someday a brilliant, smart man will come along and realise how damn precious she is and snatch her for himself. All you’ll have left will be possibilities and smoky dreams.” Yoongi took a pause. “You guys are amazing. You are borderline disgusting with the amount of private stuff you know about each other. Tell her.” Yoongi said, smiling and closing his eyes once Spice’s lips tickled his throat.

“I’ll try.” Seokjin replied. “Goodnight doctor.”

“Goodnight, lover boy. Try not to have wet dreams of your flatmate.”

“Don’t you have better things to do? I bet your girlfriend keeps a list.” Jin said, biting back.

Spice’s voice rose in the background. “Jin is almost right. However, why be doing things when you could be doing me?”

Jin blushed and snickered. “Goodnight, lover boy.” He quipped before shutting the call.

Yoongi placed down his phone, then shook his head and chuckled. “Doing you, uh?”

Spice licked her lips and closed the light before she bent to his neck. “You’d better provide, Min.” She warned before he pounced on her with an ecstatic grin.

Seokjin went to grab a glass of water sometime around one a.m., quite unusually. His routine is basic: he falls asleep at ten thirty and wakes up at four thirty, showers, dresses and runs to the shop. He starts the ovens and by six fifteen the first morning batch is ready.

But that night for some reason, he woke up. He stood up. He reached the kitchen.

Maybe it was because his sleep had been fitful. Maybe because all he had been thinking about was you. You and how it would have been like to be on a date with you, what you were like on a date, if you would have kissed him goodbye on his cheek, if you would have invited him up, had you been in Grace’s shoes, hadn’t the two of you been flatmates.

First he noticed that the fridge was open. Next he noticed you, in thick flannel pjs and a tank top. You were sniffling and drying your eyes, filling your mouth with the leftovers from breakfast.

“What happened?” He asked, spying on you.

You stood up straight, his face appearing in the dim, yellow glow of the fridge.

“His patronus was a doe.” You said, your lip wobbly, cheeks still wet with tears, filling your mouth with chocolate pudding.

He rose from his position slowly, raising his head from his arms, once crossed on top of the fridge door.

Why are his shoulders are always so damn big? What’s the use of all of that… wingspan — ? — when your kitchen is so tiny? And when he needs to move in the narrow lanes of the bakery? What is he so big for?

As you watched him turn on his side, trying no to hit the fridge or the counter as he stood behind you and hugged you close.

“After all that time.” You murmured.

Seokjin held you closer as you turned around. That’s why he was so big. All those good bear hugs.

“I know.” He replied, one arm snaked around your waist, the other wrapped around your shoulders and head while his hand patted your head. “I know,” he repeated as you hiccuped and sobbed. Of course he knew. He had been stuck there himself. Loving someone after all that time. Always.

“Who pissed in your latte?” Lara asked the following day after your nine a.m. bibliology lesson. “You look awful.”

“Thank you Lara.” You said, pushing your stuff into your bag. “Jin went on a date last night.”

Lara frowned, “What do you mean?”

“On a date. Pizza. With a girl.”

She laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m serious.” You said, placing your bag on your shoulder and wrapping your scarf around your neck.

“Listen. You’ve been friends for years. Honestly, it was a matter of time before it happened.”

“He’s never had a girl, a boy, a… partner. In four years.” You said as you and Lara walked out of the room, stopping by the closest heater in the main corridor.

“Do you think he would be your loyal servant forever? Your knight in shining armour?” Lara took a small bag of caramelised almonds: she had negotiated that she would work for Seokjin for a monthly pay and a weekly amount of his grandmother’s almonds covered by raw crystallised sugar.

“I am not opposed to it, it’s just… I’m uncomfortable, okay? What if he moves out and leaves me paying full rent. I can’t do that!” You stated weakly with strong disappointment.

“He’s just dating the chick, not marrying her!” Lara replied, throwing another almond in her mouth.

The mere idea of him getting married made you even more petty. “I don’t want her to barge in and change our friendship.”

“Friendship...” Lara scoffed. “You weren’t screaming friendship at my birthday.”

“I was having a nightmare!” You snarled playfully.

“You were having a wet dream. How long has it been since you’ve—”

You pressed your hand to her mouth. “Shut the fuck up. Not talking about that.”

Lara licked your hand, making you yuck and pull it away, cleaning it against her jacket. “We should talk about that, though. Think about it, Buttercup; he’s not gonna be single forever and you definitely have a bone to pick with that Grace girl.”

“She can have him like… on weekdays.” You said, trying to be reasonable. “Except on free mornings. We have breakfast together on free mornings.”

Lara shook her head. “Don’t wanna burst your bubble, but you do realise that soon he’ll be out on dates on Saturday night and staying out until Sunday morning?”

You frowned, pouting. You opened your mouth, trying to object.

Lara snickered proudly. You couldn’t let her have that.

“Well, at least I’ll be able to get laid with him out of the house.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be getting laid too, fucking finally. He needs it and deserves it.” Lara muttered as she thought about all those years he had spent looking at you with heart eyes. “And remember that Grace will be getting Saturday dinner. Filet mignon. All that meat...” Lara commented.

“The meat...” You said, dreamily. Juicy steaks and roasted chicken and ribs and… Meat.

Your brain short-circuited. He was tall. Handsome. Well-built. And you sort of knew he’s large. For fuck’s sake, that was your best friend you were talking about! Why would you suddenly think about his junk?

You shook your head.

Still, Lara went on, grinning as she saw you falter. “Grace will get all of that. Saturday evening. Sunday morning. Breakfast in bed. Milkshakes. Homemade gelato. Apple pies. Picnics with his granny. Trips to the lake. His granny’s roast-beef—”

“Don’t touch the roast-beef, bitch!” You hissed, pointing a finger against her chest. “Grace won’t have my roast-beef, my homemade gelato, my Sunday breakfast in bed, she won’t have my apple pies, my coffees, my picnics with granny and my Saturday dinners. And no, she will not have the meat either!” You snarled.

Lara cackled. “Nice. Then you should make a plan. ‘Cause I think she wants to take it all. Now that you’re having this sudden mystical revelation, can you also vaguely perceive that you are in L-O-V-E with your flatmate and he’s been pining for you for years and he’d love it if you accidentally fell tits-first on his cock, you big fucking dumb idiot?” Lara said, completely exasperated while a posh, preppy girl gave her the side eye, tutting in disappointment.

“Stop talking about love and all that jazz. We’re platonic. We’re fine. We’re great and we’ll always be, forever.” You said shrugging. “We’ve been friends for years. He’s had plenty of time to make a move, if he were interested.”

“He blushes when old ladies call him charming! God, you’re big dumb!” Lara said, kicking her foot against your toes.

“What?”

“He’s shy! You want him! You’re attracted to him!!! You were literally sobbing his name!” Lara punched your shoulder

You shook your head, making to walk away. “Night-fucking-mere!” You objected violently.

“Li-fucking-ar!” She mirrored as she tugged at your arm and followed you.

Yes. After all, you were a liar. And well, first and foremost, you liked lying to yourself.

“He’s my best friend. I am not attracted to him. And I know I’ll never be.”

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

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

[marshmallowprotection]

Well, hey, if youre willing to write for it im delighted to request it! If you dont already have an idea in mind, how about snapshots of each rfa member with the rfas unofficially/officially adopted child? Or what each would do if they needed to pick them up from school cause they got sick? I kind of love this whole idea so ive already thought up way too many ways to use it haha, but id be happy with literally anything related to the rfa communally raising a kid

I've written some little blurbs for you, nothing long but something just enough to get a taste of what it might be like. I couldn't decide on a specific kid to use so I'm just going to swap between a boy and a girl for whichever it feels right for. 

Yoosung 

"Sungie, do you always get to see so many animals?" 

"Mmm. Yeah, it's part of my studies. If I wanna be a great Vet someday, I have to learn about all kinds of animals and meet them." 

"Really cool! I wouldn't mind if I got to hang out with puppies all day." 

"Well… It's not always like that." 

"Oh, right, there must be kitties and bunnies too!" 

They always chatted like this. 

Yoosung spent the time that he did have free with everybody's favorite son. He was often one of the least busy members of the group but only during the afternoons while the others were working. They would waste a lot of time playing games that he enjoyed or LOLOL, which Yoosung liked. 

They got along really well. Yoosung had taken to him like a big brother, and while he wasn't entirely sure if he was doing it right, he enjoyed the time they spent together. 

He wasn't ever really that close with his big sister, so to have a little buddy to hang out with like this was so different!  

He wasn't the youngest person now, so a lot of the words directed towards him were now thrown to the wayside. It made him feel like he was pretty mature! 

That wasn't always the case, though. 

Video games were an easy way for them to interact and because of that he got a little too invested in them. Of course, just because he was older didn't mean that he always won those games. 

The kid took it ten times more seriously than he ever did and he had to actually try to win what they were on. He never really had that issue before without having many people to play against. But, it was like Seven had been tutoring him on how to destroy others. 

Today was no different. 

"I WIN!" he shrieked as he jumped off of the couch and thrust his hands in the air as Yoosung hung his head in defeat. 

"Looks like you win again," he laughed, though still a little embarrassed. 

Zen

She was a star, a bright shining star. 

All she wanted to do was be the one who made all the sad stuff go away, far, far away from here! It was a dream of hers to be as cool as her family was, and she thought the best way to do that would be to practice for the next party! 

She got the idea from Jaehee, cause she always said that Zen could shine so brightly that it made her feel better. 

So, who else to ask for tips then Zen? 

So, she put on her little show as best as she could for him. 

"You're doing great, keep it up out there, princess!" Zen cheered her on as she spun around in circles and circles on end, pretending to perform for the little crowd of plush toys and Zen.

He clapped as she finished up her little routine a few minutes later, with her arms stretched out wide and little chest heaving from all the little motions. 

Her eyes twinkle with such joy. It was a blessing to see her look so happy and all she ever wanted to hear was that she was getting better at this. 

She puffs out her cheeks when he doesn't say much more, "D'ya like it, Zenny? I can't show everybody else less you think s'good!" 

This little girl was an absolute darling to everybody that she came into contact with and it was no surprise given her parent, who had been the kindest soul ever to walk the face of the planet. She never caused any trouble and all she wanted to do was have a little fun every now and again. 

Zen wasn't all that great with kids, at least, he never felt like he was. He didn't exactly do a perfect job all the time, but he did try his best when he could. 

She had insisted that he sit down and watch her perform this time around. She wanted to show that she could be as dazzling as Zen was, and he would stand to agree that this little girl had a future in talent if she wanted to pursue it. 

Even if she was a little bit pitchy with her own rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. 

Zen let out a little laugh. He pressed his hand against the top of her head and ruffled her hair. "It was very good. You'll blow everybody away at the next party for sure, okay? I need to watch out. You're going to give me a run for my money." 

Jaehee

The little boy clutched at his locks, clearly frustrated with the paper of homework in front of himself. It just wasn't making any sense to him and he really wanted to just give up and quit it. 

He had been trying so hard to do it all on his own so nobody would get worried.  

That hadn't worked because Jaehee caught him looking so dejected in the corner of the café. 

There was no hiding anything from that woman. She just knew when something was wrong and wouldn't let the subject go when she started talking. 

She always got onto him. It wasn't rude or mean though! 

She was just looking out for him, he knew. It didn't change the fact it was a little embarrassing. 

Jaehee looked over his notes and instead of scolding him for the bad marks, she merely hummed and nodded her head. She pointed out some of the troubling areas for him and tapped the spots. 

"So you see, you'll need to do this first before you start doing this part of the question. You're getting ahead of yourself when you're working on these types of problems." 

He stared at the paper for a moment with pursed lips, "...Oh. I guess I didn't think about that." 

"Why don't we try some together and see where it's confusing, okay?" Jaehee smiled. 

He may have felt unsure of himself but he knew that he could trust her judgment at times like this. 

Jumin 

"You look lovely today… I see you and Elizabeth the 3rd are wearing matching bows." 

"Oh, you noticed? I tied them all by myself too!" 

"Did you? That's very crafty of you to do so, princess. Elizabeth seems positively pleasant about it. Why, may I ask, did you do it?" 

"Oh! Elizabeth and I are having a tea party today. We can't have one without looking cute n' stuff. You think my Mommy would like these?" 

"She would. That's her favorite color."

Jumin had never been sure how to act around children. He had never really been a normal child himself, and by the time he figured it out, he was already well grown into an adult. Now, he was really learning how to interact with children. 

This little girl had stolen not only his heart but the hearts of everybody she came into contact with over the past few months.

She was bubbly and sweet, never out of line, she had a penchant for cute toys and little accessories, and she liked to make her own things and play pretend. 

Most importantly, she was the only person in this world who could get CEO Jumin Han to sit in a small chair and pretend to drink tea. 

That's what he was doing right now. 

Elizabeth the 3rd was sitting on her own chair as the girl pretended to pour out some tea into her cup with a smile, "You want some more, Elizabeth? Really? Okay, more tea for the lady!"

Once she set it down she glanced over at Jumin with a big grin, "I'm glad you like it too, I tried really hard. I made some for everybody to wear! I made you a purple one!"

And if anybody thought he wouldn't wear a bow in his hair for this kid, they were wrong. 

Seven

“I did it! I think I put it together, it works, it really works!“

She always looked at the world with stars in her eyes. 

Every new experience was something great to watch happen and it didn’t matter what it was that she was doing or trying out. She always smiled and laughed. It was a great sound, and it had been such a long time since Seven had even heard anything like that. 

This little girl was equal parts smart and sweet. 

If Seven handed her something to work on, she would devour it and figure out what was wrong or what needed to be fixed within a couple of minutes. Seven let her tinker with some of his old robots. Granted, he didn’t give her anything really complex, but still, she learned fast. 

It didn’t always work out, but she never lost her big grin. 

He beamed. “Oh? So you did!  That’s impressive. Good job! Meowy 2.0 here is looking much more lively, huh?” 

She gripped onto the little bot and nodded her head. “Mhm! I wasn’t sure if I was gonna be able to figure it out, but thanks to your help, I got it.”

He couldn’t have been more proud. 

Seven didn’t know what it was like to have many older people in your life care for you like this in a way that was more domestic and typical. He never thought that he would ever have to chance to be around kids like this, but it was something that he always wanted to do. 

She had stolen his heart, though. He would do anything for the kid. 

“That’s right,” Seven nodded. ”You don’t have to do everything alone to figure stuff out. It’s actually better to ask for help when you don’t know what to do next time.” 

She was quiet for a moment and grinned. “...Yeah, about that. I was wondering, how hard would it be to add a flamethrower?” 

Nobody tell the others about that though. 

V

"Does it matter if I make my sky a different color then blue? Why does it always have to be blue? Is it wrong to do something like that? Can it only be blue…? I don't understand." 

"Well, the sky isn't just blue, you know. It can be almost any color you want it to be, it's your drawing to paint so it's your choice what it looks like. Why do you ask?" 

He hung his head, not wanting to look V in the eyes. "... Some kids told me I was stupid and wrong. I guess... I’m just not as good as you thought I was."

V frowned. He got to the boy’s level and pressed his hands against his shoulders, "Hey… that's not true at all. I love your sky, that's why we put it up on the fridge." 

He had really low self-esteem. It wasn’t something that was always remedied by the fact that he had a support system behind him. For some children, it was hard to connect with others in some capacity. 

This boy was always radiant and smiling when he was with the RFA. But, when he was alone or by himself, there were those times when the unease shined through. It wasn’t for a lack of love. Those feelings could affect anyone no matter their life or background. 

V hated to see that. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, quietly. “I would understand if you didn’t.” 

Because he was special, not only to him and the rest of the RFA but to himself as well.

“I’m sure. I would never lie to you. Now, let’s see what we can do about this problem of yours at school, okay?” 

Saeran 

Saeran was always wary of children. 

He always thought of his parents and how badly they had screwed him over as a kid, and his first fear was that he was going to do something as bad as what they did to him to somebody else. That was the last thing that he wanted to do to anyone. 

It wasn’t easy for him to build a bond with MC’s little girl, but he did try every now and again. For some reason, the girl really liked him and stuck to him like glue at every chance that she got. It was kind of hilarious to see somebody so bright and cheery reaching out for somebody as dark looking like him. 

There were times when she would talk somebody’s ear off, but she would never do that to anyone apart from the people in the RFA. She was often quite shy and anxious. With Saeran, though... she was quiet and didn’t often press him for talk and chats. 

She seemed to understand that he really wasn’t much of a guy for chatting, and they both could just hang out without worrying about anything. Today was a little different though. 

He had walked in the room that she was sitting in, and noticed that she was crying. His body stiffened, and he felt rather uncomfortable. He knew that he could have directed somebody else to the situation but at the same time, he didn’t think he could make himself do that. 

He had been in that position too many times as a kid and nobody was there for him. Against the dread in his gut, he sat down next to her and didn’t say anything at first. She was clearly looking over at him. 

“S-Saeran?” 

“...Mmm.” 

“I wasn’t... cryin’... just got dust in my eyes.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want too,” he said, quietly. “I just figured you would feel better if you had some company.“

“...Thank you.” 

[captainsassmanes]

Part 2 of the Breakdown fic

Michael woke to the sun too warm on his face, a throbbing headache and the taste of vomit coating his tongue.  

With a groan he rolled over, grateful to discover he was in his bed in the airstream.  He stretched his arms over his head knocking his fingers into the wall behind him.  His stomach rolled a bit and the thought of brushing his teeth was borderline erotic.

“Good morning.”

Michael startled and sat up, hand instantly coming up to his forehead to try stopping the rattling in his brain.  He blinked his eyes willing the dryness away to find Maria sitting in the far corner, cup of coffee in hand.

“Fuck.  Scared me, Maria.”

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and put his head in his hands.  He searched through his memory trying to pull up anything about the previous day but came up empty.  

Maria stood and went to the small sink grabbing a glass and filling it with water.  She handed it to Michael and took her seat once again.  Michael noticed it was the seat furthest from him in the small space.

“Everything alright?”  Michael looked at Maria’s face, cold and closed off, and felt a flash of nerves that hadn’t been there before.

Maria took a sip of her coffee.  She looked cool and collected but Michael could see something bubbling below the surface he was struggling to identify.

“Do you remember last night?”  Michael shook his head, grimacing immediately at the pain it caused to pulse behind his eyes.  He licked his lips and took a sip of his water.  “No it’s a bit cloudy.”

Maria nodded, staring at the liquid in her cup.  She stood once again and went to the sink, pouring out the remainder of her drink and watching it slowly move down the drain.

She turned and pulled the jacket she wore tighter across her chest.  “One of the reasons I thought I could fall in love with you was because of your honesty, your words.”  Michael’s heart rate picked up.  He’d fucked up before but it never resulted in a conversation like this.

“I knew when we started seeing each other that we may hurt Alex.  That was a conscious decision on my part.  I risked one of my best friends because I decided it was time for me to make myself happy, to allow myself to find happiness and love and I was so sure that we would have that.”

Michael nodded slowly afraid to interrupt her.  Maria was nothing if not a presence.  She took up his small home with her power and strength, a large part of what had attracted him to her in the first place.  But right now, it terrified him.

“We had a few good months there, Guerin.  You made me feel safe and adored and it was so amazing to have someone make me feel like I escaped, even if it was only for a few hours.”  Michael smiled at that, glad he made someone’s life better for once.

Maria shook her head, blank face replacing the small smile that had been there.  “I should have left you weeks ago.”  

He swallowed down the lump that rose in his throat.  He knew why, knew he’d been absolutely worthless to everyone around him, but he’d been naive enough to think she’d stay, that she had fallen in love with him and wouldn’t go.  

“I already have someone in my life I have to take care of.  You’re a grown man, Michael.  I don’t want to tell you to stop drinking or hold your hair when you puke or remind you to go to work.  You barely touch me and when you do it’s because you need something from me.  There’s no love there.”  

Michael shook his head in protest.  “No.  No that’s not true, Maria.  I-”

“No, Guerin.”  Maria stood straight, hands at her sides.  “This isn’t a conversation.  You’re just gonna hear me.”

He put his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes, resigned to the fact that he pushed someone away.  Again.

“Last night I saw a side of you that scared me.”

Michael’s head shot up at that.  Had he used his powers?  Did he hurt someone?

“What did I do?”  His voice was so small and broken he barely recognized it.  

“We both hurt Alex.  We made the choice to hurt him.  But you made me believe your relationship wasn’t what he thought it was, that it was long over.  A high school love lost.”

Alex.

What had he done to Alex?

“Is he okay?  Did he get hurt or-”

Maria looked up to the ceiling, blinking rapidly.  With a wobble in her voice she said, “you act like you’re the only one who knows pain sometimes, Guerin.”

He felt his eyes begin to water and didn’t have the energy to keep the tears from falling.   He wanted to beg her to hold him, to rock him while he fell apart, but he knew he had no right.  No one left willing to try anymore.   Maria wiped her cheek and looked at him, a sad shake of her head accompanying her words.  “I know that you were hurt.  I know that you were abandoned.  I know that you lost your mom and then Max.  I know all of that and it isn’t okay and no one should have to go through that, especially the abuse you got as a kid.”

Michael tried taking deep breaths, attempting to hold back his sobs.  His hands began to tremble with the effort it took to keep his emotions in check.

“You are loved, Michael.  Isobel and Liz love you.  I love you.  Even Valenti would do whatever he needed to keep you safe.  You need to know that.” Michael choked on the cry that escaped his throat and rubbed roughly at his eyes.  

“But your pain doesn’t mean that you get to lash out on everyone around you.”  Michael nodded, fighting between the reassurance Maria’s words brought and the raging doubt that they weren’t true.  

“Look at me.”  With a sniff and a quick wipe of his eyes, Michael took a deep breath and looked at Maria.  She was so beautiful, inside and out.  She deserved so much more than he could give.

“You broke Alex last night.”  

Michael was sure his heart stopped.  His vision began to swim at the periphery and his stomach clenched.  “What do you mean?”

She pulled her chair to the bed and sat down in front of him, resting her forearms on her thighs.  “I don’t know all of your history, you’ve kept that pretty vague and close to the chest.  And I’m pretty sure you’ve flat out lied about some shit.”  Michael felt the fear crawl up his spine.  “But I’m sure that last night you blamed him for things he already carried guilt about but wasn’t actually his fault.  You used his family against him, you shamed him.  Publicly.  You might not love him now but, fuck, Michael.  You-you-”

“Maria, what did I say?”  He couldn’t breathe.  He’d never had a panic attack before but, if he had to guess, he was about to have one.

“You made it clear you didn’t love him.”  Michael’s chest heaved.  “You said you looked away years ago and that you had nothing.”

He was frozen in shock for what felt like ages.  How could he say that?  And in front of everyone.  

He felt strong but soft fingers at his chin reorient him and pull him so their eyes met again.  “Who do you think has helped get you into a bed at night the last two months?  How do you think food magically appears in your fridge?  Why do you think you still have a job when you can get yourself to go?”

Michael’s eyes flickered all over her face and the panic rose into his mouth.  “You.  You, Maria!  I thought it was you!”  

She shook her head, a tear running down her cheek, glistening in the sun.  “No, Michael.  Not me.  Alex.  Always Alex.  He put us ahead of himself.  I wanted his help because I selfishly wanted to hold onto my friend for as long as he’d let me. But it was never about me.  It was all for you.”

Michael sobbed, hands coming to the back of his head and burying themselves in his hair.  He rocked back and forth, overwhelmed with shame and humiliation, guilt and regret.  Of course it was Alex.  He knew he could smell him on his clothes some mornings.  Maria didn’t know his favorite foods for her to be the one bringing them into his home.  Sanders was indifferent to everyone, except the nice local vet.  

He really couldn’t breathe.  

He felt Maria’s arms around him and he fell into her.  “What do I do?  I don’t know what to do!”  She pet his hair and tucked his head under her chin, continuing to rock him back and forth.  

After what felt like hours she pulled back and cradled his face in her hands.  She wiped his tears with her thumbs and gave a small, sad smile.  “You’re going to call Isobel and let her help you get sober.  You’re going to stop drinking.  She’s had brochures for local support groups for a while now.”  Michael nodded, still trying to regulate his breathing.

“Then, you’re going to apologize to Valenti and Liz for being MIA.  You’re brilliant, Guerin.  You need to help them bring Max back.  If it doesn’t work, it’ll be alright.  But you have to try.”  Again he nodded.

“And then you’re going to get the love of your life back.”  A new set of tears formed in his eyes as Maria sat back in the chair, taking the comfort she offered with her.  “If you really don’t love Alex, you need to at least apologize for last night and thank him for everything he’s done for you recently.”

“But if you do love him, like I think you do,” Michael dared to look her in the eye.  “You’re gonna figure out how to prove you’ve got your shit together and start over again.  Alex gets to be happy, with or without you and I, Michael.  I just think he’d be a lot happier with you.  And you with him.”

Michael leaned back on the bed, head hitting the wall behind him.  He closed his eyes, allowing himself to just feel and, maybe hope.  “I’m so sorry I’ve been so awful, Maria.”

She shook her head and moved to speak but he stopped her.  “I’m serious.  I really didn’t believe Alex and I would ever be able to be together and I wanted to be happy.  You’re unbelievable, Maria.  If ever I could have loved someone else, it would have been you, without a doubt.”

Maria laughed causing a small smile to appear on Michael’s face.  “I’m gonna stay away from the Pony for a little while.”  Maria nodded.  “I think that’s a good idea.”

He took her hands in his, moving his thumbs over the soft skin on the back of her hands.  “I wanna be your friend again someday, Maria.  Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready.”  

She smiled again and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his bearded cheek.  “Okay.”

Maria stood and looked around.  “Take a shower, brush your teeth, shave.  Maybe think about a hair cut.  Then step one.  Call Isobel.”

Michael stood slowly.  “Step one.  Call Isobel.”

Maria smiled.  “Bye, Michael.”

“Bye, Maria.”

[wherefunsurvives]

What do you wanna be when you "grow up"? How abotu when you were younger, what'd you want to be?

i very much appreciate the “grow up” in quotes anon :) Do any of us ever really feel like grown-ups?

i think at the moment, i’m sort of torn between a psych path and a human rights path. i could see myself being a therapist or child psychologist, or maybe doing some larger scale work on mental health and education? i also have some interest in forensic psychology and working in criminal justice/reform. On the other hand, i’m super passionate about the human rights field and might want to do either diplomacy/advocacy/research, or maybe even go to law school and do international human rights law. i’m hoping my classes and internships over the next few years will help me decide which way i want to take!

When i was little, i wanted to be a a writer, a painter, or an actress for a really long time. i also was obsessed with Steve Irwin and wanted to work with animals, either as a vet or a zookeeper or something!

i still really love to paint and write, and regardless of what i end up doing, i’d love to write a book someday. 

What do y’all want to be?

[strawberry-jules]

the fourth

hi again. it’s 10:41pm.

today was a fucking shit show. like appallingly so. my schedule was supposed to roughly look like this:

6-7am: get up, get ready, go get coffee

8-9: vet appt

9-10: breakfast, clean the kitchen for mom

10-11: post office, quick target run

11.30-4pm: read 2 chapters from textbook

4-5.30: run, shower, etc

5.30-7.30: read half a chapter, take some me time, idk

9pm-11pm: vibe time baybee

here’s how it turned out, roughly.

got coffee, it was very fun. barista is making it very hard to not have a crush on them by simply existing. how rude! took belle to the vet, everything was fine and dandy, as i figured. came home, had a bagel with spinach and eggs, cleaned the kitchen, it was fantastic. my brother ended up needing to ship out his christmas gift to his friend in croatia, but his classes weren’t over until 1:30, so i was like no worries! i’ll just go study for my final till your classes are over, just let me know. i ended up reading absolutely nothing and getting sucked into whatever fucking dumb shit exists on the internet. i also picked 3 therapists from our network and emailed them, introducing myself, and asking for quick interviews next week to see if we’re good fits, because i want to start going to therapy. 

i was very excited by this development. it’s taken me over a year of saying i would go to therapy for me to finally get the courage to reach out. at about 12, i went into my parents’ room and said “guess what? i’m finally starting therapy!” and my mother, without missing a beat, says “oh, sorry we did such a bad job raising you. why do you need therapy? i thought we did a great job.” i was fucking stunned. i was like, “woah, no! this isn’t a reflection of you. this is me finally taking care of myself, i have personal things i need to work through. however, i do think that therapy is useful to anyone, and i think everyone should try therapy, at least once,” to which she had the brilliant insight, “there’s nothing wrong with me. should i just make something up about my family and go talk to a stranger about it? is that what you’re doing?” and my dad was like, “hey, that’s not what she’s saying” and my mom basically went off saying that i was weird for thinking that everyone should try therapy, and that i didn’t actually need it, and that it’s weird that i’ve been to therapy twice now, wasn’t complaining to that high school counselor that my parents were so strict enough for me?

those quotes are as close to word for word as i can get, i’m pretty sure it’s exactly what was said. the conversation lasted less than a minute, before i said “i think i need to excuse myself,” and walked away. i came and sat at my desk for i don’t even know how long. i looked at myself in my phone camera, and my face had become so translucent, it was almost green from my blood veins. i walked up to my window and contemplated trying to take the screen out to climb out, but i realized that if i did jump, it would be in my neighbor’s driveway, and that felt really insensitive, so i walked away. i sat back down at my desk and contemplated all the reasons my mom was right, before i realized that she wasn’t right. i have finally realized that i’m not fine. 

i’m a depressed, suicidal 20 year old with undiagnosed adhd and ocd, a diagnosed eating disorder, and i’ve been a closeted lesbian for 13 years. i have every right to feel not okay. i didn’t need my mother’s permission to go to therapy, i have my own health insurance and i’m an adult who feels the need to ask for help, and that’s okay.

so i did what i do best, and spewed verbal diarrhea onto my private snap story about what happened and how i’ve been feeling these last few days. my brother’s classes ended early, so i took the opportunity to leave the house as soon as possible, and we took as long as possible to get to the fedex drop box, before i dropped him back at home and kept driving around, trying to process how i felt. i didn’t return either of my textbooks. i think i’m just going to send the one i bought in october after christmas, idk when it’s due but i can’t deal with the fucking lines at the post office anymore. i walked up to the post office, looked at the winding line into a building where the lovely hicks in my hometown refuse to wear masks, decided i wasn’t ready to get covid yet, and went to deposit cash so i could buy weed. i’ll just bite the $40 and buy the one that was due today, maybe i’ll give it to someone next semester. 

i got home and responded to my friends’ responses to my story. i got an overwhelmingly positive and loving response from my friends. every single one stuck up for me, supported me, and shared that they’ve been feeling similarly. which is heartbreaking, i can’t believe that all of us have been dealing with this so privately! but anyway, that’s a tomorrow issue. 

after i did that, i was ordering my weed when barista texted me, saying they had a question for me, which, when you have a major crush on a coworker with a girlfriend, is a very concerning text to receive. turns out, they just made me earrings! they walked their dog to my house and delivered the insanely cool polymer clay snake earrings. when i greeted them with a hug, they pulled me in so close, literally every part of their body was pressed against mine and my cheek rested on their head so perfectly. they’re on the shorter side, probably 3-4 inches shorter than me, but so strong. the way their arms felt around my back was wild, it was so tight but so gentle but so firm but so, so warm and soft. their hair was soft but frizzy and smelled like them and a little bit like an argan oil shampoo and a little like coffee. their eyes are so much more intensely ice blue in the sun. they hugged me the same way goodbye, and we chatted for a good portion of the evening, about our coworkers and being homeschooled and being nerdy high schoolers and the earrings.

i finally got one chapter done before dinner was ready at 8:30pm, which is late, even by our standards. after dinner, as i was decorating a sugar cookie named gerard, my parents kept making snarky comments about me being a stoner, and i was like yes, bold statements coming from the parents that just used my account to buy a tincture and edibles. anyway, i came upstairs and tried to read more but i’m too emotionally exhausted. eve ended up giving me a call, finally, and filled me in on her life, which is always crazy but i love to hear her voice, so it’s okay. then i learned a tiktok dance, which left me concerningly out of breath, considering it’s only been like 4 days since i ran and i can’t be that out of shape? but i showered and did my skincare routine and made sure my laundry was in the dryer before i sat down to start this. 

it’s now 11:20pm, and i’m very proud to report that i am no longer angry with my mother for what she said to me. i’m sad that it’s how she feels, but i recognize that what i’m going through is something she will never understand, as a straight woman who, while prudish, has a healthy relationship with drugs and sex. i love her, and i forgive her, but i’m going to talk to her tomorrow and hold her accountable for gaslighting her already unstable daughter. what she did wasn’t fair, and it hurt. i know she probably feels insecure because she definitely does have things she knows she should go to therapy for, i know for a fact that she faced a lot of childhood and adolescent trauma and i would personally love to make sure she’s in a healthy place with it. but i can’t force her to, obviously, so i have to just hope that she doesn’t project on to me too much in the coming weeks.

i’m exhausted, and i think i’ll go to bed. i feel good about how i handled today, i caught myself in time to think through my actions before i did something completely unwarranted and unhinged. i know that at the time, my brain was in flight mode and i couldn’t cope immediately so i just followed the “i want to die” instinct because it was the strongest, but i still had enough of my logical brain in gear to have forethought. look at you go, prefrontal cortex! knowing that the part of me that is still healthy and wants to live is strong enough to put the kibosh on that maneuver is enough to give me hope that i will be okay someday. i never thought that i would be someone to be experiencing things like this. i really thought that people were being dramatic, if i’m being totally honest. now that i’m experiencing it, i understand. i’m sorry that i didn’t have more empathy.

[mrs-tall-librarian]

I feel like I'm in a bit of a quarter-life/identity crisis.

About junior year of high school (maybe even sophomore?) I decided I wanted to be a band teacher. This decision was spurred on by my discovering that I was NOT UP for doing dissections, which meant that vet school would be a big no thank you. I loved being in band and so I thought, "why not be a band teacher? It's fun and I'd get to pick music that's cool and that I like!" (this was my legitimate thought process, I clearly remember talking about that exactly with my best friend, in the library at school, after deciding it). What would it matter that I'd have to get in front of a class and public speak every day, even though I am an introvert who gets anxious at the thought of saying "here" during attendance? It's a fun and easy thing to teach and the kids will all behave because they chose to be there! (Hahahahhahahahahha....)

But that was that, and I was set on becoming a band teacher. College was TOUGH but I perservered and made it through, even leaving behind many people who seemed better equipped for this field. And I even got a job for the fall after graduating.

That's about where this blog came in. I documented my three years at that first school, and even though I remember all of the goos times now, looking back through this blog is hard evidence that I was not totally happy in that situation. A lot of it was the location, and the overehelming amount of work that came with the position (one person doing the jobs of two), but I know that some of it was also my personality. I loved my students though, and most of them really made me want to do my best and continue.

After three years there I really needed a change, most importantly for my mental health. I believe this is where I started losing my focus. I applied for other teaching jobs, willing to give it another chance at a bigger school, but when nothing ever came of it I was happy to be admitted to the music education graduate program at my alma mater. I went in without much plan other than to get my degree and sort of mark time until I could get another job. I just wanted out of my then current situation.

Grad school was great, and I felt much more preparer to take on another teaching job, but at the same time I was beginning to feel like maybe even though I was trained for it, teaching wasn't where I would happiest. When I couldn't find a teaching job I started looking into other things and that's when I came across the opening for the library page position. I had always wanted to work in the library, since high school. I figured this would be as good a time as any, so I applied, interviewed and then got the job. I was so nervous at first, and felt a bit odd doing a job that didn't fit my degrees. But I now feel like I've really found my niche. I absolutely love working at the library. It is the perfect atmosphere for someone like me. I still interact with and occasionally help or teach others, but it's on a much smaller scale, which is how I excell and feel comfortable. I go to work happy every day, rather than dreadful, as I did manuly days as a teacher. I have started looking into requirements for getting a more full time position, and maybe working up to being a true "librarian" someday.

This is where the conflict comes in though. I feel so much like I'm wasting my time if I'm not doing a job that uses my degree. And I feel very pressured from family to get back into teaching. Any comment of how much I enjoy the library is usually met with one about how much I must also miss teaching, and can't I wait to get back to it?

Very recently I came across a job opening, purely by accident, for an assistant band teacher position for the remainder of the 2017-18 school year. My first thought was that maybe I should apply. They seemed desperate for someone, and I'd be making more money in a job like that than my part time at the library. But I'm so happy doing what I'm doing with the library that I just can't bring myself to apply. I told my family about it before I really thought about it, and the pressure I feel from them to apply is high. I just don't think I can though. I want to continue the library path. But I also feel like I'm letting my past self, and everyone who ever helped me become a teacher, down. I feel like I'm giving up.

I do not regret my time in graduate school. I learned so much that I can apply to many other aspects than a music teaching job. And I certainly don't regret my first teaching job. It really made me grow up and become a much better and stronger person than I ever was before. But I feel now like I've found something I really want to try and can see myself doing for a long time. I'm just so anxious about doing what is "right".

This was rambly, so if you read to the end thank you. I mainly needed to just get my thoughts out but any advice if you've been in a similar situation is appreciated.

[jccamus]

My semester with the snowflakes~

My semester with the snowflakes~ https://ift.tt/2sSRZoH

My semester with the snowflakes~

In May of 2019, at the age of 52, I was accepted to the Eli Whitney student program at Yale University.

I am the oldest freshman in the class of 2023. Before I was accepted, I didn’t really know what to expect. I had seen the infamous YouTube video of students screaming at a faculty member. I had seen the news stories regarding the admissions scandal and that Yale was included in that unfortunate business. I had also heard the students at Yale referred to as “snowflakes” in various social media dumpsters and occasionally I’d seen references to Ivy League students as snowflakes in a few news sources.

I should give a bit of background information. I was an unimpressive and difficult student in public schools. I joined the military at 17 and spent close to 26 years in the US Navy. I was assigned, for 22 of those years to Naval Special Warfare Commands. I went through SEAL training twice, quit the first time and barely made it the second time. I did multiple deployments and was wounded in combat in 2009 on a mission to rescue an American hostage.

Every single day I went to work with much better humans than myself. I was brought to a higher level of existence because the standards were high and one needed to earn their slot, their membership in the unit. This wasn’t a one-time deal. Every time you showed up for work, you needed to prove your worth.

The vetting process is difficult and the percentages of those who try out for special operations units and make it through the screening is very low.

In an odd parallel, I feel, in spite of my short time here, the same about Yale.

After receiving my acceptance email and returning to consciousness, I decided to move to Connecticut and do my best in this new environment. Many people have asked me why I want to attend college at 52, and why at an Ivy League institution like Yale? I could have easily stayed in Virginia and attended a community college close to my home. Well, based on my upbringing in the military, I associated difficult vetting process’ with quality and opportunity. I was correct in that guess. More importantly though, I simply want to be a better human being. I feel like getting a world class education at an amazing institution like Yale will help me reach that goal. Are there other places to get a great education? Of course, but I chose Yale.

My first class of the semester was absolutely terrifying. I don’t know if it was so for the kids in my class, but it damn sure was for me. It was a literature seminar with the amazing Sterling Professor of Comparative Literature, Professor David Quint. He is an amazing human in that he has dedicated his life to literature, and he knows what he is talking about. The discussion was centered around the Iliad. I had read a bit of the Iliad in the middle part of my military career and decidedly didn’t get it. Listening to Professor Quint demonstrated exactly how much I didn’t “get it.” The other students looked like children to me. Hell, they are children, but when they speak, and some of them speak english as their second language, they sound like very well-spoken adults. My Navy issued graduate degree in cussing wasn’t going to help me out here. These young students had a good grasp of the literature and although they lacked much experience to bounce it off of, they were certainly “all in” on trying to figure out its underlying meaning.

At one point, I said; “hey, I’m just an old guy sitting here with a bunch of smart people, but I think….” And they all smiled, some of them nervously because I was essentially an alien. I was an old dude with tattoos all over his arms, and a Dutch Shepherd service Dog brandishing a subdued American flag patch on her harness, sitting next to him. Professor Quint later approached me and said “hey, don’t downplay your intelligence. You are smart as well.”

I thought, I’ve got him fooled! Turns out I didn’t fool him at all when I turned in my first paper, but that is another story for another time.

After a few classes, I started to get to know some of my classmates. Each of them is a compelling human who, in spite of their youth, are quite serious about getting things done.

One young woman made a very big impact on me. She approached me after class one day and said; “I am really glad I can be here at Yale and be in class with you. My grandfather came to Yale and when WWII started, he left for the Navy and flew planes in the Pacific theater. After he came home, he came back to Yale, but he couldn’t finish. He locked himself in his room and drank and eventually had to leave, so I feel like I am helping him finish here at Yale and I’m doing it with a veteran, you.”

I was surprised and quite emotional. Exceptionally emotional. She went on; “I can send you a photo of him!” and I told her I would love one. That evening she sent me this photo of her grandfather.

I used to read stories about men like him and they are heroes to me. Clearly her grandfather is a hero to her as well, and she is going to make him quite proud. This connection with a WWII vet through his amazing granddaughter is a gift. One of many I receive on an almost daily basis in this amazing institution. I think it’s worth taking a moment here and acknowledging that this thing we now call “PTSD” has always been around and some of us veterans escape it while others, like me and likely this gent in the airplane, felt the sting of it.

One day in another lit class, I brought up a book I’d read a long time ago called “Taxi Driver Wisdom” by Risa Mickenberg, Joanne Dugan and Brian Lee Hughes.

After that class a couple of the students approached me and explained that their dads were cabbies when they first came to the United States, and that their fathers had told them that the things they sometimes heard from people in their cabs were amazing.

Think about that for a second. These students are first generation Americans. Their fathers immigrated to this country and started out by being taxi drivers. Now, their children are attending college at Yale University. I’m a patriotic man and those are the stories that help me understand how, in spite of the seemingly endless stream of negativity surrounding it, the American Dream is still alive and kicking. It makes my heart sing every time I see those kids.

Let me address this “snowflake” thing. According to the “Urban Dictionary” a “snowflake” is a “term for someone that thinks they are unique and special, but really are not. It gained popularity after the movie “Fight Club” from the quote “You are not special. You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else.”

I hear the term occasionally from buddies of mine who I love, they say things like; “how are things up there with the liberal snowflakes?”

Let me assure you, I have not met one kid who fits that description. None of the kids I’ve met seem to think that they are “special” any more than any other 18–22-year-old. These kids work their assess off. I have asked a couple of them to help me with my writing. One young woman volunteered to help me by proof-reading my “prose” and, for the record, I believe she will be the President someday. I recently listened while one of my closer pals, a kid from Portland, Oregon, talked to me about the beauty of this insane mathematics problem set he is working on. There is a young man in our group who grew up in Alaska working on fishing boats from a young age and who plays the cello. There is an exceptional young woman from Chicago who wrote a piece for the Yale Daily news expressing the importance of public demonstrations in the light of a recent police shooting. She and I are polar opposites. I am the “patriarchy” at first glance, and she is a young black woman who is keen on public protests. Not the type of soul I generally find myself in a conversation with. We come from different worlds and yet we both read classic works with open hearts and minds.

We recently met with a prominent writer from a think tank who is researching the state of the humanities in the university setting. There were four of us students, two other young men, the young woman from Chicago, and me, the old guy. As the younger students started to express their thoughts, the young woman (truly a unicorn of a human) used the word “safe space” and it hit me forcefully. I come from a place where when I hear that term, I roll my eyes into the back of my vacant skull and laugh from the bottom of my potbelly. This time, I was literally in shock. It hit me that what I thought a “safe space” meant, was not accurate. This young woman, the one who used the phrase, “Safe Space” isn’t scared of anything. She is a life-force of goodness and strength. She doesn’t need anyone to provide a comfortable environment for her. What she meant by “safe space” was that she was happy to be in an environment where difficult subjects can be discussed openly, without the risk of disrespect or harsh judgement. This works both ways. What I mean is, this young woman was comfortable, in this University setting, wrestling with things like the Aristotelian idea of some humans being born as “natural slaves.” She was quite comfortable in that space. The question was, how comfortable was the 52-year-old white guy in that discussion? Did it make me uncomfortable? Yes. I’m grateful for the discomfort. Thinking about things I don’t understand or have, for most of my life, written off, is a good thing.

Being uncomfortable is KEY in this world of ours. Not altogether different from the world of special operations, where the work needs to be done, regardless of weather or personal feelings. The climate in this educational institution is one where most students understand that there HAS to be a place where people can assault ideas openly and discuss them vigorously and respectfully in order to improve the state of humanity. I’ll call that a “safe space” and I’m glad those places exist.

Here in the “Directed Studies” program, instead of “tuning in” to our favorite self-confirming “news” source, we are given a timeless text with heavy ideas and then we throw them out on the floor and discuss them with people who have, as I mentioned earlier, made these works and their meaning, their vocation.

In my opinion, the real snowflakes are the people who are afraid of that situation. The poor souls who never take the opportunity to discuss ideas in a group of people who will very likely respectfully disagree with them. I challenge any of you hyper-opinionated zealots out there to actually sit down with a group of people who disagree with you and be open to having your mind changed. I’m not talking about submitting your deeply held beliefs to your twitter/facebook/instagram feeds for agreement from those who “follow” you. That unreal “safe space” where the accountability for ones words is essentially null. I have sure had my mind changed here at Yale. To me there is no dishonor in being wrong and learning. There is dishonor in willful ignorance and there is dishonor in disrespect.

On veteran’s day, there was a great scene on cross campus. A bunch of American flags had been placed there and I stopped on my morning walk to class and took photos of my dog in front of them and sent them to my friends. Later at some point during the day, a young student placed a glove with red paint on it on one of the flags as she wanted to demonstrate her displeasure with something…I’m not quite sure what.

That same afternoon, some of my fellow students from “Directed Studies,” after a lecture, gave me this:

It is a card thanking me for my service to our nation. I was humbled and amazed.

These hardworking kids are very kind and thoughtful. A far cry from the picture that is often painted of them.

One of my Professors, a Professor of Philosophy, told me once “a good leader is a bridge builder.” Professor David Charles is a man who has been teaching bright young people and some slow and old ones like me, the most difficult subject for me, at Oxford and now Yale. He’s been doing this for over 30 years. He is extremely humble and very kind, in addition to being brilliant. I’m motivated by his words and I want to build bridges and lead, in some small way, a new conversation where we stop pointing out the perceived differences in each other, or this group vs that group, and start pointing out similarities. We don’t need more condescending friction in humanity. We need less. One step in the direction of less societal friction is to seek commonalities. Another step, and one that is sorely needed, is respect.

Now before you think I’m preaching, please know that I come from a place where I was distinctly the opposite of this ideal. I looked for reasons to disregard the opinions of those I didn’t respect. I discounted the ideas of people I felt like hadn’t earned the right to share what was in their mind. Particularly when it came to national security issues, I felt that if you hadn’t taken a gun into combat, I didn’t give a damn what your opinion was.

I’d like to count this as my first brick in attempting to build a bridge between the people here at Yale and those like me before I arrived here. We need everyone who gives a damn about this American experiment to contribute and make it succeed. We humans have much more in common than we have different. Thanks Yale, for helping me to become an aspiring bridge-builder at the age of 52,

In our welcome speech at the beginning of this semester, with all of us Freshman sitting in Woolsey Hall, me sitting next to another veteran, one who’d served in the 82nd Airborne, President Salovey said;

“There is so much we do not know. Let us embrace, together, our humility — our willingness to admit what we have yet to discover. After all, if you knew all the answers, you would not need Yale. And if humanity knew all the answers, the world would not need Yale.”

Now back to that bridge. I need to figure out how to actually build one. Good thing I’ve found a place where I can get help. If this place is peopled by “snowflakes” I’m proudly one of them. I’m a snowflake with a purple heart.

Peace-

https://ift.tt/2QdexIX via Medium December 23, 2019 at 07:10PM

[badbitch-goodwitch]

Is anyone out there? Has anyone noticed I’ve been gone? Do any of you miss me? I think it’s time to over-share. Long life update below. Is anybody reading? Does anyone care? It’s okay if you aren’t, I won’t hold it against you. Just wondering if I’m shouting into the void by myself or if there’s someone here with me.

I’ve missed me. My craft has been suffering lately, I don’t practice as much as I’d like. I fell behind in working with my tarot cards and now I worry I’ll need to start over learning the associations of the cards. Some of my herbs have begun to lose their potency. I haven’t been a very good witch.

I don’t write as much as I’d like. My book has been sitting stagnant for months. I don’t really do any of my hobbies as much as I’d like, besides maybe shopping, if that can be considered a hobby, and I really try not to do that. I own too much stuff--specifically beauty products. I mean, who needs twenty-nine eyeshadow palettes? Honestly.

But I’ve just been so busy, it seems like. Even though I only work part time, and spend three to four days every week doing literally nothing. I don’t know where my time goes. I just sit around, I can’t muster the energy to do anything but binge TAZ and watch youtube makeup videos, and all of a sudden my day is gone. 

I have taken on a second job. Sort of. My grandmother owns a court reporting company and needed transcriptionists for a big case recently, so I helped with that, and she was so impressed she found someone to take me on as an apprentice to become a fully certified stenographer. It’s not as easy as it sounds but I actually kind of enjoy it, and it’s pretty good money. The only downside is that I have to dye my hair. Blue hair in our society is still considered unprofessional so, even though I’ll essentially be a freelancer and not an employee of the courts, I can’t go to court with blue hair.

I’m more sad about it than I thought I would be. It’s just hair, and I always knew if I ever got a job other than dog grooming, I’d probably have to dye it. Grooming is considered a fairly creative field, and the pool of talented young groomers is smaller than you’d think, so things like piercings, tattoos, and colored hair, are generally more accepted by employers in the field. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever worked with a groomer who didn’t have at least one of the above. We’re a wild bunch.

So I always thought I’d probably have to dye it someday. But now that the time is here...I’m sad. I’m going to miss it. Unless I win the lottery or something, I’ll pretty much always have to have a job, so I may never be able to have blue hair again. And that makes me sad. I think it suits me, it looks really good, it fits my personality, and I love it. I just love it. I’ll get over it, of course, it is just hair after all. But I’m going to mourn it.

One of my dogs is dying, too. He was diagnosed with cancer, osteosarcoma specifically. He’s only 2, which is very very young to have gotten this. Osteosarcoma is one of the more aggressive cancers in dogs. Statistically, by the time the dog has a noticeable tumor and is able to be diagnosed, 90% of the time it has already metastasized. To the lungs, usually. In younger dogs, it tends to be even more aggressive. The only treatment options are to amputate the limb with the original tumor and do chemotherapy. If you do both things, on average the dog will live a year. And again, he’s young so it’s extra aggressive, so he likely wouldn’t even get that long. So after looking at all the options, the cost versus the chance he’d get from the treatment, the pain/stress factors, etc, we decided to amputate the leg and not to do chemo. We decided once he lets us know he’s getting bad, we’ll let him go. That seems more fair to him, to let him go without dragging it out, before he suffers too much. I watched my father die slowly of cancer over nearly a year and I know if humane euthanasia had been an option for him, that’s what he would’ve chosen after a certain point. My dog can’t speak for himself, but that is an option, and that’s the choice I’m going to make. I’m crying as I type this, I’ve cried over this for the past month and a half. It is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my entire life and I do not enjoy making it. I don’t want my dog to die. I want to wake up tomorrow and find this has all been a terrible dream. I want to never have had that feeling that day, that something was wrong. I want to not have looked out the window to him in the fenced yard playing with our other dogs, limping and with a massive lump on his leg that sprouted overnight, literally. I want to not have known, even before seeing it, that something was terribly wrong. I want to not have had that feeling confirmed by my vet and the UGA vet school. I want to wake up tomorrow and never have this dream again. I want to cuddle my happy, healthy, four-legged Alastor again. I want this to go away. There is nothing I want more in the world than for this to go away. But that isn’t going to happen. I have to make the best decision for him. I want to make the decision to keep  him with me for as long as possible. I want to make the selfish choice and damn the consequences. But I can’t do that. He can’t choose for himself and I can’t make him suffer just so I get one more month, one more week. I can’t. It isn’t fair to him. None of this is fair.

So I know the choice I have to make, for him. If the chemo was likely to save his life I would absolutely do it. But it won’t. It would just be constant vet visits and feeling crappy and slowly getting worse. If it would give us five more years, even, I’d do it. But for an average of a year, and most likely not even that long due to his age....I can’t. I can’t.

The choice is made. My vet knows what I want. But the problem is, he already acts different. Even right after the surgery, he was still his normal self. Constant tail-wagging, jumping around, running, wanting to play even though he had stitches. Eating anything and everything you put in front of him. Now, five weeks post-surgery, when he should be right as rain since the incision is completely healed, he just lays around. Doesn’t want to walk more than he absolutely has to. Doesn’t jump. Doesn’t play. Just lays on the couch. He’s eating still, but where he normally finished his dinner in five minutes or less, he now takes all night and into the next day. His joints ache. He still wags his tail when we talk to him, but not constantly like he did. He’s just not himself. And so I have to ask myself, how long do I wait? He doesn’t seem to be in pain exactly, just uncomfortable, so I can start giving him his pain medicine again and see if that helps. But what if it doesn’t? Is he bad off enough already that we should let him go? Should we let him go preemptively so he doesn’t get worse and truly suffer? Should I wait until he does get worse, in case this is just a phase and he gets better? I don’t know where the line is, I don’t have a deadline, and so I can’t tell when is the right time. I don’t know that there will ever be a right time, I’ll always have a reason not to let go, so when do I do it? I wish never was an option. I can’t stop thinking that I wish never was an option. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling, I don’t know how to make this decision, I don’t know how to make him feel better, I don’t know how to do any of it, and I don’t want to do it anymore, I just want it to be over. Please, can it be over now. But not his life, I don’t want that to be over. I want it to go away. I just want it to go away. I can’t stop crying.

So I’ve had a bad few months overall. I’ve been shopping way too much, because I don’t drink or smoke or do drugs, spending money is my vice. It makes me feel just that tiny bit better about myself for a minute. When I get packages in the mail it makes me happy to open them and play with my new things. I got a Corsair K70 RGB gaming keyboard that makes me so happy. It’ll wear off, but for now, that’s bringing me a little bit of joy so I don’t regret spending the money. And it is a really good keyboard.

The week of Thanksgiving my brother came up with his family and brought the dog they picked up that day. Actually, picked him up about an hour before I met him. And this poor thing...was emaciated. Did not have a single bit of fat on him, could count every bone in his body. My brother said the last owner told him that he wasn’t eating, hadn’t had a full meal in ~5 days, had been throwing up everything he ate until they took him to the vet, about three days before my brother got him, and the vet gave him some anti-nausea medicine which stopped the throwing up, but he still wasn’t eating. The vet they took him to said it was probably worms causing his issues, so gave them some panacur, the anti-nausea, and some fortiflora, which is dog probiotics, and sent them home. I decided that was bullshit and took him to my vet. And my vet is just the best vet. When I panicked over Alastor’s leg because I knew it was bad, I rushed him in without an appointment, they saw me anyway and my vet didn’t even make me wait very long, just until he finished the client he was with at the time. And same that day. This dog needed immediate care, he was starved but refused to eat anything or drink more than a couple drops at a time basically, was lethargic, didn’t even hardly want to stand up. He needed to go. So, the Monday before Thanksgiving, I took him in without an appointment, and same thing, they took me anyway, didn’t even make me wait very long. My vet is the best vet. It helps that I have eight dogs and six cats so I’ve established a pretty good relationship with everyone there. But they did a fecal, discovered he had no poop in him at all basically. Tried to palpate his stomach, couldn’t feel any foreign bodies. Did a couple of x-rays, saw big air bubbles but no foreign bodies. So he told me, either there is a foreign body and it’s just hiding on the x-ray, or his organs aren’t working properly for some reason. Did bloodwork and found heartworms but nothing else abnormal. So he recommended surgery. Said if it’s a foreign body and he didn’t do surgery, he’d die. If his organs weren’t working and he couldn’t figure out why, he was weak enough that he may not make it through surgery at all. If we did nothing, and he didn’t get better in a couple of days, euthanasia would become the only option. So we opted to do the surgery, he rearranged some things and fit us in the surgery schedule for the very next day, because he’s the best. Discovered that it wasn’t a foreign body, a part of his small intestine had gotten looped in on itself and stuck inside the opening to the large intestine (Or something like that, I’m not a doctor. Intestine looped and couldn’t unloop so nothing could get through) so whenever he ate something, it would get stuck right there, so his body would reject it and he’d throw it back up. He would’ve died if we hadn’t done the surgery, but now he’s doing just fine, eating again, pooping again, set to make a full recovery. And now my brother will never doubt my advice when it comes to dogs.

My grandmother thinks I’m crazy for spending that kind of money on my brother’s dog, because he couldn’t afford to pay for it and my vet lets me make payments if I need to. My brother is supposed to pay me back, but even if he doesn’t, I still would’ve done it. I couldn’t let that poor baby die if there was anything I could do about it. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. But this dog, so soon after Alastor’s diagnosis, which I can’t save him from...I had to do it. I had to save this one since I can’t save him. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.

So that’s my life update. It’s been a very stressful time lately and I just haven’t been feeling very motivated to do much of anything at all. I barely even eat. I’ve been so stressed I gave myself a cold. But I think maybe shouting this into the void has helped. Been cathartic, in a way. So if you’re here with me, thank you for your help. And if it’s just me here with the void, thank you anyway. 

[chicitym-blog]

I love the NFL

I’ve always loved football. Like, LOVE, love. I was born in July, and by that fall I was posing for photos inside of one of my uncle’s college football helmets. This uncle later became one of the most-winning high school football coaches in the state of Illinois, and I was proud to attend his games, hear stories of his “no nonsense” (probably concussed-inducing) style and rantings about how “only Communists like Florida State” football. I have fond memories of a very Catholic and docile grandma screaming “KILL HIM” at the TV while watching an Illinois defense in the living rooms of my childhood.

I’ve been a Packers fan since high school. I grew up in the middle of Illinois where there was no pro allegiance until the Bears came to work at Memorial Stadium in 2002. When I was in high school, we got the game-of-the-week and I saw Favre develop into a quarterback with a style that I looked forward to each Sunday and again throughout the off-season: fearless, care-free, risk-taking, unapologetic, and brash. My younger brother grew up a Colts fan; my younger cousin became a Bears fan.  

Well before high school, I realized that I couldn’t play football. Learning how to throw spirals in elementary and middle school got me nowhere - just like my dream of becoming the Incredible Hulk was shattered because I was not born with a man’s body. And I mourned those losses. Hard. I knew early on that there was a ceiling that was different for my sex, and I tried to find different entry points. The only space football makes for women is asking them to don a skirt and root from the sidelines. I did what I could to be a part of it and gladly cheered and pommed my way through middle and high school.  

In college I decided that I wanted to work in sports. I started studying communications. Once I said that aloud, people gave me weird looks. Up-and-down looks, trying to figure out if I was hot enough. Once I started interning in Chicago at a sports station, some of those looks were asking if I was willing to put in the hard (usually sexual) work to get there. Some men would become outright enraged at my aspiration to be included in the sports not meant for me. The week before the 1999 playoffs, I was on my couch cheering for more touchdowns from the Pack against the Cardinals when they were already up big. Watching Favre throw for more than 300 yards in a game where they may not make the playoffs for the first time since he arrived was nerve-racking (as a Packer fan, losing is pretty foreign). The man I lived with said something like, “You’re such an idiot, and you actually think you’re smart enough to be on the sidelines. They won the game.” When the color guy explained that the Packers were trying to rack up more points in case they were tied for a playoff spot because the tie-breaker would be based on who in the division scored more points that last regular season game, I don’t remember gloating, but I do remember being up locked in the basement of my own house for hours as punishment for being right. It took me another two seasons to get out of that house. Covering the Bears training camp, I was once courted by a player and he touched my leg. A radio host once bruised my arm because I came to “his” training camp and didn’t sleep in his hotel room. I looked past these incidents in sports.

When Favre took pain medication and admitted that he needed them to get through his day, I was producing for Steve Rosenbloom on the weekends. Rosie asked if as a Packer fan I cared. I opened my producer's mic and said that I wanted him “to win.”  In 2002, when Mark Chmura was accused of sexually assaulting an underage babysitter, I said it didn’t affect me because he was cut by my team. Big Ben didn’t play for the Packers so those rape allegations didn’t impact my life, I reasoned  in ’10. That same year, Favre was, at the least, sexually harassing an NFL reporter while he played in Jersey, but again, he wasn’t on my team. Ray Rice was seen on video dragging his wife off of an elevator after knocking her out with a punch to her face; and the Commissioner of the NFL, Roger Goodell, lied to all of us and said he didn’t see the tape when we all know the NFL sees everything. I reasoned that this was part of the sport I loved and someday these asshats would get it together. Concussions will happen, and they are grown men deciding to play this game.  My justification for continuing to watch is that my own, not-yet-conceived children won’t play football until they are out of my house, but my nephews love to play in organized PeeWee leagues to my chagrin. This month Zeke Elliott, a smiley 22-year-old second-year player from my state who looks fun and unassuming, was suspended for six games for domestic violence accusations. He’s appealing the suspension. Today a black quarterback, a good quarterback, is not leading or waiting to play backup on any NFL team because he knelt during the National Anthem in protest of blacks being being shot by some of our law enforcement officers.  

I have not gone out with friends after Packer losses. I’ve texted thousands of times to fellow Packer fans during games. I’ve seen my Packers decimate the Bears on three separate occasions in three different venues. Last year one of my BFFs and I braved the Chicago -10-degree weather to see our teams face off, but I only lasted a quarter. We’ve hosted playoff games in our house where I was mortified seeing the Seahawks come back and beat the team I love. I’ve happily cheered for Aaron and his magical arm, Clay and his amazingly timed tackles, Jordy’s Mighty Mouse catches. Football has been my fall/winter self-care. It’s an escape I’ve used to get away from abusive men, and it’s been a way I’ve maintained ties to one side of a family that has abandoned my brother and me. It has been a release. I can hide in my TV on a Sunday and watch. I share this game with my husband, my friends, my brother, my cousins. I have won fantasy leagues. I have made friends with people over Twitter because of gridiron Sundays. In June I bought a friend’s baby a trio of Saints onesies. Football means so much that when I discovered a live-in boyfriend was lying about his third chance at honesty on a Saturday night, that next morning I stepped over him to watch the noon start before gathering my things and leaving that relationship for good.

I love this game. But I can’t support this game until the white players on the team I root for stand up and give unequivocal support for Colin Kaepernick and denounce the racism in “our America.” I mean HEAR HEAR to Martellus Bennett and HaHa Clinton-Dix for their bravery (don’t fucking @ me with your “bravery is only for our Vets” bullshit; we’re in a war with racist and not-yet-apparent racist assholes right now). I need Aaron, Clay, and Jordy to open their mouths and denounce what is happening in this country and to their fellow union brothers. Our white and non-white children look up to these guys, and I want the organizations I support to have decent, humane values. This isn’t an issue about one dude; and once we let the owners, the fans, and the players make it about Kap, the righteous side loses. The Players Association needs to also step up. Unions are womens, civil, workers, LGBTQIA, disability and immigrant rights organizations.  As a woman, I know that being in a union makes my pay fair. This struggle is about how we treat groups of people and what that says about us. The argument that sports aren’t political is an outright lie. We hear a song touting the U.S. at the beginning of each sporting event. The NFL lobby to receive and fought to keep tax exempt status for more than 60 years. The League and individual teams pick causes all the time, such as the American Cancer Society, which is politicking. Our owners threaten our states and city councils to move teams unless tax dollars go to build new. shinier stadiums. Sports are our lives; and if your life isn’t political, then you have a certain level of privilege—a privilege that others do not possess.  

A few years ago I told myself that I wouldn’t buy any more NFL gear for myself. I haven't been able to click “buy” on that Kap jersey I hate the League so much. Last year, I vowed to only watch games in which my team was playing. Now I’m ready to break up with this shitty BF who doesn’t give me anything unless I give them money and my unquestioning devotion. I’ve cried over thinking about leaving football. I’m crying now. Full disclosure: My husband is employed in a job where he has to watch sports. But I am willing to not watch any NFL game or footfall shows, not buy any NFL stuff, and take the Packers and the Bears off of my Google calendar until the Green Bay Packers and its white players make a statement about the injustice Kap is facing and that they agree with his stance that our country needs to address the violent treatment of our citizens of color. I get I’m only one person. My career now is as a school social worker on the West Side of Chicago, and I know that each and every day I am in the classroom those students and I change the world. Each of us has that power. We can be ripples in this ocean to end racism. This fall I will refuse to watch the game I love and tweet instead what I am doing in lieu of my Packers with the #BoycottTheNFL #ImWithKap. Maybe I'll bake.