#like. one or two. like i just realized how much of my schedule ive built around doing this shit and like. damn i should try to slow down

[mayoiayasep]

maybe for like the sake of my sanity i should skip the next couple enstars events

[moldisgoodforyou]

florence (iv)

warnings: smut!! in the middle but you can see it coming if u wanna skip over it

wordcount: 8.3k

______

Six and a half hours and two transfers later on the train, Sophie and Rafe made it to Florence. They’d fallen asleep on each other multiple times and woken up with cricks in their necks or imprints of each other’s clothing onto their cheeks, and were both running on little sleep - somehow, he’d convinced her to go skinny dipping off a little cove at 2am the night before. She lasted about ten minutes in the water with him before she spotted someone with a flashlight along the beach and freaked, practically sprinting out of the water to pull her wet clothes back on and shove Rafe’s at him. (He’d hissed at her to relax until they heard yelling of “arrêter! Policiers!” They put together pretty quickly that it was “stop! Police!” and booked it back to the hotel, giggling the whole way.)

Despite Rafe’s tired grumblings, she made him freshen up and walk with her to go get dinner at a place a few blocks from the hostel. It was only 6, but they both hadn’t eaten in a while and had to be up early for an architecture tour Sophie had scheduled at 8am. He took two looks at the menu before handing it to her - she raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “You know what you’re getting?”

“It’s Italy. I want pasta every day.”

“Every day.” She repeated, doubtful.

“Every day. And gelato, every day. Those are my two requests.” He nodded, sure of himself.

“I think we can manage that. Did you learn Italian too over the summer, you want to order for us?” She teased, holding back a smile.

“C’mon, my Spanish wasn’t that terrible. It really wasn’t.” He protested, kicking her gently under the table.

She kicked him back reflexively, maybe a little too hard, and just rolled her eyes when he made a show of dramatically grabbing his leg. “It wasn’t awful. You just had zero accent, that’s kind of important.”

“Whatever, I’ll work on it.” He grinned. “You can teach me where to put my tongue.”

“Your ability to make anything sexual is impressive.”

“Wasn’t even sexual, but good job on you for twisting it.” He smirked, leaning across the table and lowering her voice. “Hey. Guess what.”

She did the same, reaching out and taking his hand. “What.”

“We’re in Italy.” He whispered conspiratorially, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah, and…?”

“When you were drunk on FaceTime once, you told me we needed to have sex in every country.”

She blushed, raising her eyebrows. “Did I?”

“You did, and I’m holding you to it. I got us single rooms in the hostels for a reason.” Rafe wiggled his eyebrows back with a smile, trying to get her to laugh. “But there’s like, a 98% chance I fall asleep on you if we try anything tonight, so we can check that off the list tomorrow.”

She had to hide a giggle as their waiter came over to take their order, turning it into a cough into her elbow. When the waiter left she shook her head, grinning. “Tomorrow’s fine. I appreciate the honesty.”

“Any time.”

_______

The next morning, Sophie woke up to her third alarm in a row with Rafe still blissfully asleep next to her, his arm curled around her middle and her leg thrown over his waist. She nudged her head up, knocking against his chin. “Hey.”

He stirred just enough to pull her closer and bury his face into her hair. “Shh. Sleeping.”

“We gotta get up, Rafe, we need breakfast before our tour.” She started scratching gentle circles on his chest, placing short kisses up along his neck. “Up.”

“If you keep doing that something else is going to get up.” He mumbled, humming contentedly with his eyes still shut. The hostel was busy with other kids their age and he’d woken up to the sound of two groups trying to open their door - twice - and their drunken whisper-yells. Sophie, of course, slept peacefully through the whole thing.

“We don’t have time for that.” She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose and tried squirming from his grip unsuccessfully. “Come on.”

“Five minutes.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“...Fine.” She settled her head back onto the pillow, sighing as he grinned and nuzzled against her. “Only ‘cause you’re warm.”

“Yeah, what the fuck is up with the temps? This place is an icebox.” He replied, slipping his hand under her shirt and cupping her breast.

“Rafe.” She elbowed at him, a warning tone to her voice.

“M’ just holding it. You’re warm.” He argued, brushing his thumb over her nipple and smiling to himself when she let out a tiny whine. She made the mistake of pressing her hips back into him, just a little, and he groaned quietly into her ear. “Careful there.”

“You’re not seriously - oh my god, Rafe.”

He wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest, just pushed his hips against her ass. “Can’t help it. I have my beautiful girlfriend in my bed that I haven’t seen in months.”

“It wasn’t even that long -”

“It was a whole quarter of a year without you, Sophie, now hush and let me sleep.” His tone took on a teasing lilt and he brushed his fingers down her stomach, making her tense. “Unless you’d like to do something else.”

“We don’t have time.” She told him firmly, knocking his hand away. He grumbled and pulled his hand out from under her shirt, settling his arm around her waist instead. “Lame.”

“You’re lame.”

“Okay. Good comeback. You’ve lost your touch.” He quipped with a tone of amusement, pulling her close again. Her alarm went off and he sighed dramatically, dropping his head to her shoulder. “Let’s skip.”

“We’re not skipping, we might never be in Florence again and I’ve wanted to see the Duomo and Palazzo Vecchio for years.” She twisted in his grip just enough to place a quick kiss on his lips then sit up, stretching. “Get up.”

“I’ll bring you back - no, Sophie, stay -” He protested weakly, reaching for her.

She smiled fondly at the way he was all squinty in the mornings, adjusting to the lights and trying to find his glasses, but her smile gave way to a pout she knew Rafe couldn’t say no to. “Baby, please? I don’t want to be late.”

“Fine.” He yawned and dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his glasses and shoved his feet into sneakers, just wearing his boxers. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“You’re not gonna at least throw on a shirt? Or shorts?” She questioned, eyeing him over with no shame.

He caught her gaze and flexed his chest, smirking. “Not if you’re enjoying the show.”

“You’re the worst.” She informed him, leaning over to give him a kick to the ass. “Go.”

As requested, she pulled out his clothes for the day after she got ready, finding a certain kind of pride in the fact that he trusted her in his appearance. She grabbed his wallet from the desk too, ready to stick it in her backpack, but paused when she realized it was a little thicker than normal, barely snapping shut. Curiosity got the best of her and she flicked open the wallet, pulling out a couple wrinkled and worn pieces of paper from one of the slots.

Rafe returned just as she was smoothing it open. “What are you doing?”

She startled, quickly turning and holding the paper behind her back. “Nothing! Just putting your wallet in my bag. So we didn’t forget.” She clarified quickly, cheeks blooming red at being caught.

He smirked, kicking off his shoes and striding closer. “If you wanted money, you could’ve just asked.” He teased, reaching around behind her. “Whatcha got?”

“Nothing.” She twisted, trying to set it on the desk without him noticing, completely unsubtle.

“Oh. You found your letters?”

Sophie paused. “My letters?”

“Yeah, that’s what they are.” He nodded and started pulling on his clothes for the day.

She brought it from behind her back to read and brightened, realizing it was two scraps from the many letters she’d sent to him when they were apart. He’d just cut out the two sappiest paragraphs she’d written, embarrassingly, as she found it much easier to express the extent of her love for him through writing rather than face to face. She pouted a little, skimming over them. “Baby.”

He turned back to her and ran his thumb over her bottom lip, shaking his head. “Hm? No pouting, little fish.”

“Little fish?” She quirked her brow, confused.

“Yeah, remember that one time you blamed your crying during finals week on being a Pisces moon? Pisces is the fish, I think.” Rafe reasoned, taking the papers out of her hand and carefully tucked them into a zippered pocket of his suitcase. “Since you’re here with me now, I guess you’ll just have to tell me how much you love me in person instead.”

She beamed up at him, adoringly. “I love you so damn much.”

He grinned and slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her slow. “Love you too, Soph. My favorite girl.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them strolled out hand-in-hand to the hostel cafeteria and picked through some pastries for breakfast, Sophie promising him a protein bar from her backpack when he complained he’d be lightheaded by eleven. He snapped a photo of her when she recoiled at the strong cappuccino with zero cream or sugar to cut it with, laughing as she tried her best to hide a cough. They found a spot at an empty table and it wasn’t long until a friendly couple came up to them with twin smiles.

“Hi, can we sit?” The girl asked, already setting down their plates.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Rafe replied, gesturing. Sophie noticed that his slight Carolinian accent came out a little more in Europe instead of in Ohio, as if he was trying to mimic a little bit of the Spanish and Italian accents and butchered it in his own special way. (She hadn’t corrected him yet, finding it endearing.)

“Thank you! I’m Elena, this is Marco.” Elena introduced herself, sliding into her seat.

Marco gave them a nod and pointed at Rafe, hesitant. “It’s...Jake?”

“Rafe.” He corrected, then explained to Sophie, “we met in the bathroom.”

“Your boyfriend is built.” Marco informed Sophie with a grin, making her laugh. “I know. I’m Sophie, it’s nice to meet you both. Are you just visiting, or…?”

“Yes, we’re from Milan, we wanted to make a weekend trip.” Elena confirmed. “And you? Americans?”

“North Carolina, yeah.” Rafe nodded. “Sophie was studying abroad in Barcelona, then I came to tag along.”

“Oh, so cool!” Elena grinned. “Do you have plans today? I love Florence, it’s beautiful.”

“It is, yeah.” Sophie glanced down at her phone, then back up at them. “I’m sorry, but we have to run, actually, we have a tour to go to this morning. But no plans later.”

“We will meet you by the Duomo, then, around lunch! We can show you around.” Marco declared, handing over his phone to Rafe to put in his phone number - he was a little confused, but did so anyways. “You guys don’t have to -”

“No, new friends are always fun.” Elena waved him off with a smile. “Enjoy your morning.”

Sophie brightened, slipping out of her chair. “See you later!”

Rafe followed her back to their room, and turned to face her after shutting the door with a skeptical look. “He was flirting with me.”

She laughed, packing up her backpack for the day (she’d bought the little leather bag in Barcelona and it was now one of her most treasured possessions, carrying her camera and sketchbook every day). “Don’t be ridiculous, you just have a big head.”

“No, I swear, he was giving me a look this morning when I walked back from the bathroom.” He insisted.

“I think you’re misinterpreting things, he was probably confused that you were shirtless. They were friendly, we should meet up with them! New friends!” She grinned and slapped a protein bar into his hand, as promised.

He furrowed his brow a little but slipped the bar into his pocket. “How long do I have to share you for?”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He amended quickly, leaning down to give her a sweet kiss. “Ready to see your Domo and whatever?”

“Duomo, baby. And the Palazzo Vecchio.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Uh huh.” She held out her hand with a grin. “C’mon, Florence awaits.”

He took her hand and raised it, guiding her into a twirl. “We certainly can’t keep her waiting, then.”

______

Rafe wasn’t sure he absorbed a single word of the self-guided tour. Twenty boring minutes in, he’d turned down the volume on his audio pack that they’d rented and just observed Sophie and the small look of awe on her face at every new turn, the way she nodded enthusiastically when she recognized a piece of information shared on the audio. He decided he would be perfectly content with just watching her for the rest of his life, to see the way her face lit up when she learned new things and got to share that information with him.

He listened just enough to be able to hold a conversation with her afterward, but his intro to architecture class that he’d had to drop midway through the first month of the semester didn’t really give him a strong enough background to keep up. Sophie made him pause the audio several times too, so she could tell him a story about the architect or about the construction of the buildings - he did his best to look as interested as possible. She could tell he was losing interest, just a little, but carried on anyways, just excited to share her passions with him.

After finishing the tour and returning their audio devices a little early, they took a seat out on the steps of the piazza as they waited for their new friends. Sophie took out her sketchbook and started drawing the front entryway of the Duomo, and after two minutes she ripped out a sheet so Rafe could doodle too. (His sketches were much less refined, a little rough around the edges, but they made up for it in character.)

“Do you think they’ll show?”

“Marco and Elena? Yeah. They sounded genuine.” She replied, her tongue poking out a little in concentration as she sketched.

He suppressed a grin and snapped a quick photo of her before she could realize. “How long do we have to hang out with them?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe go to lunch, let them show us around and if we like them we can hang out more?”

“Hm. You think we’ll like them?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” She reached over and adjusted his hand, trying to help him draw a straighter line, but he just scowled and went back to his usual method.

“We don’t know anything about them.”

“That’s the whole point of staying in the hostel, baby, to meet people.” She nudged her foot against his, giving him an eager smile. “C’mon, you like making friends. You’re good at it.”

“Okay, fine, but I have something planned for us tomorrow afternoon.” He told her, raising his eyebrows.

She huffed, exasperated. “Rafe, I promise, we can have sex later, but I’m not wasting the day in bed -”

He laughed, flicking at her knee. “No, no, not that, but I like where your mind is at.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head a little. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not an expensive one, I hope?”

He made a show of pulling out his phone, dramatic. “Siri, cancel the private shopping tour at Gucci please.“

“Rafe Cameron.” She fixed him with a glare, unamused. He grinned back and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I know you better than that, don’t worry.”

“You’d better.” She rolled her eyes, then brightened when she saw Marco and Elena approaching and gathered up her sketchbook and pencils back into her bag, along with Rafe’s little drawings. He followed her gaze and stood, visibly steeling himself a little - she instantly nudged him to relax.

It didn’t take long for Rafe to warm up to their newfound friends, especially when Marco showed interest in his camera and when Elena asked him about his film minor, and enthused about how jealous she was that she couldn’t study something fun like that. He was a little caught off guard when they each got kisses on cheeks as a greeting, but didn’t mention it when Sophie shot him a look.

As promised, the two gave Rafe and Sophie a mini tour of the city, stopping for gelato twice along the way. After a solid few hours of walking and chatting, they stopped at a fountain by their hostel and sat around it to take a break.

“This fountain is special to us, you know.” Elena smiled at Marco and he nodded, tugging her down to his lap.

Rafe cocked his head. “Why’s that?”

“It is where we kissed for the first time.” Marco revealed with a raise of his eyebrows. “There’s a legend, if you throw a coin in here over your shoulder and it makes it to the top tier, you will find your lover.”

“Or lovers.” Elena added with a grin and dug in her pocket, then tossed two coins to Rafe and Sophie. “Here. I’ll tell you where it lands.”

Rafe tried handing his back, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to waste your coin. I already have Sophie.”

Elena pushed it back into his hand, insistent. “You never know what will happen. It’s just good luck.”

Sophie looked a little confused but accepted the coin, tossing it in. Marco let out a whoop as it landed in the top tier, making a satisfying clink. “There you go!”

Rafe scowled but flicked his in too, looking a little smug when it joined hers up top. “See, I told you. Your lover’s right here.” He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and mumbled, “Stupid fountain.”

Elena laughed, gesturing out to the crowd milling around. “Your lovers could be anywhere. Love is meant to be shared with more, yes?”

“...Sure.” Sophie leaned back into Rafe, content. “How long are you two here for?”

“We have as long as we’d like.” Marco shrugged. “Wherever the wind takes us.”

Rafe chuckled quietly into Sophie’s hair, murmuring. “Sounds like your worst nightmare.”

She just hummed in agreement back to him. “Oh. We leave in two days, early in the morning. Do you have plans tonight?”

“Probably a club.” Elena grinned. “You should come! We will teach you the tricks, get you the good Italian drinks. Sophie, I can show you how to flirt for the free drinks, the Italian way.”

She held back a laugh as she felt Rafe’s grip tighten a little around her. “Going out sounds fun. I’m not sure I have the right clothes, though, I sent a lot home already…”

“I have clothes! We will share.” Elena dismissed her immediately, then got up off Marco’s lap, tugging him up. “We are meeting with friends for dinner, but we will meet you later? At the hostel?”

“Sounds good.” Rafe nodded, letting Sophie go, and was surprised when the two of them said goodbye - again - with cheek kisses, Marco included. Once they were out of earshot, Sophie giggled at the bemused expression he wore. “I think you should start greeting James and Colin that way.”

He scowled. “James would participate. Colin might deck me.”

“Yeah, probably. I miss them.”

“More than you missed me?” He raised his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes, shoving at his chest. “Of course not. Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird, you get all overprotective and I know you wanted to say something earlier when she talked about flirting.” She took his hand and intertwined their fingers, giving it a little squeeze.

He softened a little and leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of her head, ignoring her remark. “What do you think she’ll have you wearing?”

“No clue. We’ll see, I guess.” She shrugged. “We have a few hours to kill, what do you want to do?”

“Hmm. We can go see the David?” Rafe tipped his head in that direction, and Sophie visibly brightened. “You want to go to an art museum?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s cool. One of my buddies went last year and said it was worth checking out. Plus, air conditioning.”

“My two favorite words.” She grinned.

____

Later that night, Sophie walked out of the girls’ dorm with Elena to meet the boys, looking extra hesitant. She wore a black bikini top, maneuvered differently so it was upside down and strung up to push her boobs together, with an open back. One tug of a string and it’d all come undone. It was paired with a leather miniskirt and Elena insisted on doing winged eyeliner and soft pink lipstick too, all completely out of Sophie’s comfort zone.

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell open a little. “Soph.”

“She’s gorgeous, yes?” Elena grinned, giving Sophie a little push on the shoulder toward him.

“Yeah, definitely, stunning.” Rafe nodded, searching her face. Sophie gave him a small smile, clearly uncomfortable in the attire. “It doesn’t look bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Do you like it…?” He questioned. “I can go get an extra shirt of mine from our room, if you want a little more, uh, coverage - not that you need to cover up, but -” He started, stepping toward that way even without her encouragement.

“No, um, I think it’s okay.” She grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Just a little...different. I just need a drink. Or two.”

He paused. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She nodded, then gave him a wry grin. “Just make sure no one accidentally tugs at this string or I think it’s all coming apart.”

He clapped his hand against the string at the back of her neck protectively. “You got it.”

“Ready? You look nice, Sophie.” Marco asked, sending her a polite smile, then stopped in front of Rafe. “No, wait.”

“Something wrong?” Rafe frowned, then widened his eyes as Marco reached out and undid two more buttons on Rafe’s shirt that already had three unbuttoned, so his chest was basically on full display. His attire was completely out of character for him, a short-sleeved maroon silk button-down that Marco had insisted on, but he wore it well. Sophie stifled a laugh.

“There! Much better. Now we go.” Marco took Elena’s hand and they led the way, starting the walk toward the club.

Sophie giggled at Rafe’s bemused expression and reached over and undid another button with her free hand. “You look extra slutty tonight.”

“Extra slutty?” He emphasized in mock outrage. “Maybe I’ll be the one getting us free drinks.”

She grinned. “How about we make it a competition?”

“Go on…”

“Whoever can get to...um, two drinks first wins.” She decided.

“Just two? Why not go the whole night?” He cocked his head.

“I don’t think I’m going to drink too much tonight.” She reached up and tugged at the bikini string to tighten it a little, pushing her boobs together more. “I feel like my tits are gonna fall out at any second.”

He snorted. “Say the word and I’ll give you my shirt.”

“I know you would, baby, but I think you need some semblance of decency too.”

They were practically glued to each other’s side all night despite their bet, with her being stressed about her outfit and him being overprotective. (Sophie noted that Rafe looked remarkably comfortable in the overpriced and fancy club environment, while she felt wildly out of place. For a moment she wished she’d taken him to Monaco just to see how quickly he’d assimilate, even though she knew she’d probably hate it.)

They took two shots with Elena and Marco and lost both of them shortly after, not expecting them to leave so soon. After they said hasty goodbyes, not returning, Rafe slung his arm around Sophie’s shoulders and kept her close. “I’m pretty sure I just saw Elena making out with some girl on the dance floor.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, leaning into him. “You’re sure? Isn’t she dating Marco?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, maybe it’s their thing. I swear it was her.” He grinned, repeating Elena’s words from earlier. “Your lovers could be anywhere, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s a little out there. When we were getting dressed she dragged a crystal down my spine and told me I had to align my chakras.”

“Kinky.” He quipped, laughing when she shoved at his shoulder. “Whatcha thinking, want to stay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired and my feet are killing me. Let’s just head back?”

He took the rest of her drink and tipped it back, then set it on a nearby counter as they walked out. “Exactly how tired are you?”

She grinned. “I could stay up for a little longer. I saw your packing skills, might as well put them to good use.”

Rafe blushed - she’d found a whole strip of condoms in his bag on the first night in Barcelona and immediately teased him, asking how many nights he thought they’d be doing it. He merely responded by shrugging and ripping one open, setting it on the bed like an invitation. (She had accepted. Of course she did.) “We might as well take advantage of your top. Easy access, y’know.”

She rolled her eyes and checked her hip against his, shaking her head. “You have me, you know. You don’t have to keep constantly flirting.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Touché.”

_________

Rafe’s planned surprise for the next day was a bike tour (“so you can live out your Lizzie McGuire dream,” he’d told her, but she didn’t have the heart to correct him that technically Lizzie rode a Vespa in Rome).

The bike tour was out to a small winery where they had a private dinner and both got drunker than they expected, especially Sophie. The owners of the winery made them a three-course meal and kept coming out with more and more wines to try, successfully convincing Rafe to order three bottles to be shipped home. When Sophie nearly fell only a few feet after attempting to ride the bike back, the owners laughed and just ordered them a cab - Rafe thanked them with a tip that was probably a little too excessive, but his drunk brain didn’t care.

When they tumbled into the car, Rafe immediately pulled her feet into his lap, running his hand over her shin. She gave him a look and tried twitching away but he wouldn’t let her, keeping a firm grasp on her ankle. In Spanish, a little slurred but near-perfect, Sophie told the driver their address and the name of the hostel. Their driver nodded and responded something in Italian - neither of them could understand, so they just nodded back.

Rafe dug his thumbs into her calf and she nearly moaned, biting her lip. “Oh my god.”

“That good or you’re just drunk?” He smirked, continuing his motions.

She let her head flop back against the car door. “Both. You’re drunk too. My brain is working funny though.”

He raised his eyebrows, smiling. “I don’t think it is. What’s 15 plus 26?”

“Rafe, you know I can’t do mental math, unfair.” She whined, pulling her leg back a little so his hand slipped back to her ankle.

He swapped her legs, massaging into her other calf. “Not gonna take your shoes off in the car, sweetheart, you’ll have to wait for more.”

“Sweetheart. That’s new,” she repeated, mulling it over. “You know what?”

“What?”

“If you gave me a foot massage right now, I genuinely think I’d marry you on the spot. No contest.”

“No contest implies there is competition, Soph.” He pushed both her legs off his lap, ignoring her squawk of protest, and slid into the middle seat so he could buckle her in and lean into her.

She tucked her head into his side comfortably. “You’d marry me too. Wouldn’t you?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. No.”

She whined, squeezing his thigh. “Rafe!”

“Sophie!” He mimicked her whine, although much quieter, and pushed her hand away from his leg. “No, I wouldn’t, you deserve a big party and a pretty white dress. Plus, wouldn’t you want our friends there?”

“I suppose.” She hummed, pulling his arm a little tighter around her shoulders. “Sometime, then.”

“Yeah, sometime.” He agreed, starting to play with her hair. It wasn’t long until she fell asleep on his side, always extra sleepy when she was wine drunk. He snapped a picture and sent it to Allie and Julia, who instantly demanded a Facetime session.

A few minutes later, the cab dropped them at the hostel and Rafe had to practically drag her sleepy body out of the car and haul her inside. He convinced her to stay awake just long enough to get into their room, then let her flop onto the bed as he untied her shoes.

She perked up a little when she heard the familiar ring of the Facetime call. “Who’s that?” He scooted in close to her, pressing his cheek to hers to fit them both on the screen with minimal effort. Allie and Julia picked up right away and both their faces broke out into a grin.

“Mom and Dad!” Julia exclaimed.

Sophie grinned back, immediately taking the phone from Rafe and shoving him away. “Hi!”

“She’s drunk.” Rafe informed them unnecessarily off screen.

“I am not, shh.” She snapped at him. “Hi guys! I miss you!”

“How’s your trip? I want to hear all about it!” Allie asked right away.

Sophie glanced at Rafe, the wheels turning in her head. “Should we tell them? Are we allowed?”

He furrowed his brow. “Why wouldn’t we be allowed?”

“Okay. So we had sex last night -”

“Jesus, Sophie, no -” He immediately wrestled the phone away from her as Allie and Julia both cried out with a chorus of “no, stop!”

“You said it was allowed!”

“I didn’t think you were going to talk about that!” Rafe rolled his eyes and gave them an apologetic smile. “We’ll be home in a little under a week, Soph can catch you up then. On the less explicit details.”

“You taking care of our girl, Cameron?” Julia asked, smiling as Sophie nuzzled into his side like a cat - she was always extra touchy when drunk, even just with the girls.

“Technically, she was mine first.” He pointed out.

“Technically, you made her cry after multiple fights before you ever dated, so no. She’s been ours since freshman year.” Allie corrected.

“I can be everybody’s.” Sophie mumbled, taking Rafe’s hand and placing it on her head so he’d get the hint and start playing with her hair again.

“Polygamy. Spicy.” Julia quipped.

“I would like to have sex or go to sleep now.” Sophie announced without a care in the world. “Can we hang up?”

Julia snorted, while Allie rolled her eyes.

“You’re not gonna talk to your friends?” He asked, trying to hand the phone back to her, but she just shook her head and pushed it away. “M’tired.”

“You just said you wanted to have sex.” Julia said.

“Yes, I’m not gonna do any of the work.”

Rafe shook his head and angled the phone back to his face. “Okay then. Sorry, guys, we had way too much wine at dinner. We’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, of course. See you soon! Bye, Soph!” They both chimed in, waving until they hung up. He dropped the phone, amused. “What was that about?”

“Honesty is the best policy.” She told him, sprawling out onto the bed. “Alright. Have at me.”

He rolled his eyes. “No. You need to shower, then we can go to sleep.”

She sighed dramatically. “Rafael.”

“That is not my name.”

“Okay. Rafe.”

“Yes.”

“Can we please have sex?”

“No we cannot.”

She pouted, rolling over onto her stomach and looking up at him. “Please? I’ll let you go down on me.”

He laughed. “You’re so generous. No. Come on, shower time.” He gathered up her towel and clothes for her to change into after, then tugged at her hand. “Angel. Up.”

“Shower with me.” She demanded, getting up and following him out the room with only a few stumbles along the way.

“You want us to get kicked out? I don’t think so.” He ushered her into the small shower stall, slipping in behind her and locking the door, then helped her undress, dodging multiple kisses. He folded her clothes and set them aside then gave her a small push into the shower that he’d turned on for her. “Okay. I’m going to wait outside.”

“No, no, stay.” She yelped as the water hit her, ice cold, and fiddled with the handles. “Fucking - oh my god -”

Rafe quickly jumped forward and adjusted them to the right temp, then turned his back on her. “Fine, I’ll stay, but only because I’m worried you’ll drown.”

“Can’t drown in a shower, silly.” She reached out and shoved her soapy hand through his hair and he sighed, turning back to look her in the eye. “Sophie Flint. Please behave.”

“You behave.” She gave him a mischievous grin, then lowered her voice to a whisper despite there being no one else milling around in the bathroom. “Come in.”

“You’re drunk.��

“Not completely. Not anymore.” She argued. “I’ll go down on you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “If you really want to, you can save that for the morning. Finish your shower so I can get in. I’ve decided I don’t trust you to stay alone in the room.”

“Or you could get in with me…” she trailed off, tugging him down for a kiss - he gave in just for a moment before glancing away, trying his hardest to ignore his naked girlfriend - wet and covered in soap suds, no less.

“Soph. Rinse your hair.”

She crossed her arms, stubborn. “No.”

“Oh my god.” He rolled his eyes and double-checked the lock before he stripped down and got in with her, nudging her back under the feeble shower spray. He figured he’d have to shower anyways, and the faster he got her back to bed, the better. “Rinse.”

“Do it for me.” She protested, resting her head against his chest. He sighed but tipped her head back into the water and massaged his hands through her strands, stilling for a brief moment when she let out a breathy moan. “Hey. Can’t do that.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” She excused, then reached up onto her toes to lather shampoo into his hair once he was finished. He ducked down a little so she could reach, pressing his head against her hand. “M’ gonna be hard if you keep that up,” he mumbled.

She giggled. “It’s just shampooing. And I think you’re halfway there.”

“It’s intimate.” He protested, nearly melting into her touch. He loved when she played with his hair, how gentle she was (except when she’d occasionally tug on some strands to get his attention).

After shampooing and rinsing his hair, she lathered soap between her hands and smoothed it over his chest, over his shoulders. He swallowed, watching her and feeling like his skin was on fire despite the warm water waning. “You’re still drunk.” He mumbled.

“Not really.” She pressed a kiss to his neck, then another, then along his collarbone. “I know what I’m doing.” His illogical side was beginning to give way to her actions, especially as she sunk to her knees in the shower, running her hands down his thighs. “Let me.”

“Baby…” He was hesitant and clearly worried about being caught, and reached down to tip up her chin. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Although this is twice now that I’m getting cheated out of shower sex, kind of rude.” She grinned up at him.

“Sophie, I will fuck you in the shower all you want when we’re home - oh, shit -” He nearly gasped as she took him into her mouth, jerking his hips involuntarily. She gagged and immediately pulled off him, pinching his thigh. “Jesus, Rafe, trying to bruise my throat or something?”

“I had no warning! I’m sorry!” He exclaimed in a hushed whisper, fumbling for the shower faucet to turn it just a tad hotter as it rained down on his back. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“I mean, we can try it, but another time, okay?” She smirked as his eyes went wide and she licked up the underside of his cock, carefully taking him into her mouth again. He let out a deep exhale and bit down on his knuckle to keep himself quiet, letting his head fall back against the shower wall. She continued bobbing up and down on him and when he looked down after a few moments, he nearly choked watching her touch herself at the same time.

“Sophie - let me -” He tried, but she just hollowed out her cheeks and moved on him a little faster, and he could tell from the way she hummed around him that she was close too - impossibly close. He pushed her gently off of him and hauled her up to stand, even though she protested, and traded places faster than she could think, hooking her knee over his shoulder and going straight in with his tongue.

She gasped, a little louder than intended, and he sent her a warning look. They could hear some giggles from down the hall, coming closer and closer, and she panicked, tugging at his hair to bring him up, but he refused to stand. “Be quiet.”

“Rafe you know I can’t -” She pleaded, then pressed her hand tight to her mouth when the door opened and he continued to eat her out with no sign of stopping. Realistically, there was no chance of getting caught unless they were heard - they were in one of four locked shower stalls and even Rafe couldn’t be seen over the top, despite his height. Another gasp caught in her throat as he flicked his tongue across her clit, faster, and she felt like she might black out when she came.

He looked up at her and she could barely see the blue rimming his pupils, eyes dark with lust. That was enough to push her over the edge and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a not-so-quiet whine.

The girls’ conversation stopped out by the sinks and one of them spoke up, loudly. “Did you hear that?”

Rafe stood after working her through the orgasm - as always - and clamped his hand over her mouth, reaching down in between them to jack himself off as he whispered in her ear. “Don’t make a sound. You’re so good for me, Soph, so fucking special.”

She felt like her legs were jelly and her head was spinning, in a haze post-orgasm (and the excessive steam in the shower didn’t help). She pushed his hand away and kissed him, hard, grinning against his lips when he uttered a soft groan, painting her stomach with his cum.

He rested his forehead against hers, trying his best to breathe quietly, a different girl spoke up. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Probably just the shower faucet being weird.” There was a murmur of agreement and the group left, the door swinging shut to make a loud exit.

Sophie let out a small laugh of disbelief, shaking her head. “You’re…I can’t even think.”

“Incredibly sexy?” He supplied with a grin, nudging her back under the shower spray and handing her the body wash to clean herself off.

“Incredibly insane, more like it.” She shivered once she was clean and flicked off the faucet. “You went from no sex tonight to near-exhibitionism all within the span of a half hour.”

He glanced at his watch before wrapping her in her towel. “Forty-five minutes since we’ve been home, actually, it’s a miracle the water wasn’t ice.”

She patted herself dry and pulled on her clean clothes, scowling as she had to shove her feet into her mildly sweaty shoes. “Um. You need fresh clothes.”

“Right.” Rafe paused, then stacked his clothes on top of hers and wrapped her towel around his waist. “This’ll do. You leave first?”

“Good call.” She grinned and slipped out of the bathroom unnoticed, back to their room, and was under the covers when he returned. “C’mere.”

He tugged on clean boxers and called it good, slipping under the covers with her and drawing her close. “Sleepy?”

“Yeah.” She grinned to herself and pressed a chaste kiss to her jaw. “Baby.”

“Hm?” He closed his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep at any second.

“You’re so easy.”

“Easy?” He echoed. “Maybe. Just for you.”

“Aw. Slutty just for me.” She grinned and rested her head on his chest, sighing contentedly when he wrapped his arms around her. “Good night.”

“Night, love you.” He mumbled.

“Love you too.”

_____

After another long day of exploring (and five gelatos, between the two of them), Sophie and Rafe agreed to meet up with Marco and Elena to go out again before they left. Rafe insisted on buying Sophie a better outfit for going out, despite her protests, and they ended up buying three outfits instead of just one. The night started out tame, with Marco and Elena actually sticking by Sophie and Rafe - until Marco kept buying more and more shots of limoncello and sambuca.

The sambuca shots came to their table on fire, and Rafe was a little too enamored by the flame by the third round he’d consumed (Sophie passed hers off to him, a little worried about her ability to keep an eye on him otherwise). When she noticed Rafe’s terrible typing on a Snapchat to Colin and James, she leaned up to yell in his ear. “Hey! I’m going to go get water. No more shots.”

“I’ll come!” He got up from his chair and immediately stumbled, gripping the table. Marco caught him by the arm, laughing. “I can watch him. It’s okay.”

She nodded and pressed both hands to his shoulders to keep Rafe in place. “Okay. You stay here with Marco, I’ll be right back, baby.”

“Promise?” He frowned, reaching out for her.

“I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Stay.”

After fighting her way up to the bar, and poorly communicating that she wanted acqua, water, not acqua di cedro, an Italian liqueur, Sophie finally made it back to the table after ten minutes - just in time to catch Marco leaning in and kissing Rafe.

Rafe had leaned in a little too, misreading and thinking Marco was just trying to tell him something in his ear over the loud crowd. He jerked away with wide eyes just so Marco caught the corner of his lips, then abruptly looked around in shock to see if anyone else caught it.

Marco cocked his head, confused. “You are not interested?”

Sophie came up and handed Rafe the water, tucking herself into his side protectively. “What’s going on?” He gaped at her for a second then back at Marco, trying to gather his thoughts. “Interested?”

“In me.” Marco nodded. “We have been flirting.”

“We’ve been what?” He repeated, in shock.

“I’m his girlfriend.” Sophie clarified, gesturing between the two of them. “I thought we told you -”

“Yes, and I have my girlfriend too!” Marco nodded, tapping Elena on the shoulder and bringing her close. “What is the issue?”

“Oh, did you ask?” Elena brightened, sending Sophie a flirtatious grin. “Did they say yes?”

“I’m too drunk for this.” Rafe mumbled, pressing his palm to his forehead.

“Wait, wait, so. You two want to hook up with Rafe -” Sophie started, only for Marco to shake his head. “No, no, both of you. You for Elena.”

“I thought you could tell? We were flirting all week!” Elena exclaimed, and both Sophie and Rafe thought back to several incidents over the past few days that they’d just chalked up to the Italians being friendly. Kisses on cheeks, Elena telling Sophie to toss coins in the fountain so she’d meet her lover in Florence, Marco complimenting Rafe’s body multiple times when he came back in just a towel after the showers - shit, were they really that oblivious?

Rafe just groaned and dropped his head down to Sophie’s shoulder. “I’m so drunk.” She laughed, more out of confusion than anything. “Um, I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not really inter - well -” She paused, debating for a moment and glancing up at Rafe to make sure she wasn’t speaking for him. (In her defense, she wasn’t sober either.)

“No!” Rafe exclaimed.

She nodded quickly. “Right, right, yeah. We’re not really interested, I’m so sorry if we gave you the wrong idea.”

“Oh. I would not have kissed you, I am sorry -” Marco began to apologize, but Sophie shook her head. “It’s okay! It’s okay, he’s fine. Um, here, you can have these, I think I need to get Rafe back home.” She pushed their waters into Elena’s hands, giving them an awkward smile.

“Will we see you at breakfast?” Elena asked as she smiled back, completely unfazed.

“Um...yeah. Maybe. Rafe, c’mon, let’s go.” Sophie looped her arm around his waist and tried pulling him out of the club, and he just dragged his feet along. “I can’t believe he kissed me.”

“Shh,” she giggled as she hushed him, tugging on his arm. “Rafe, cooperate, please.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” He grumbled, standing slightly more upright and doing his best to walk with her once they finally made it out. She got out her phone to look up the directions back to their metro stop and he wiped his hand over his mouth, scowling. “I need a kiss.”

“You nearly got one from Marco.” Sophie quipped with a smirk.

“I didn’t want a kiss from Marco.” He lamented with a big sigh. “Need one from my girl.”

“Just one, then we gotta make it home.” She complied, rising up on her toes to give him a short kiss. He grabbed her chin, not so gently, and tilted it back up to give her another kiss. “No. More.”

“I’ll kiss you as much as you want when we get back. Will you please help me and walk to the metro? One block, then just two when we go to the hostel. You can do it.” She pulled out of his grip and looped her arm in his, trying to get him going. “Rafe. Please.”

“So whiny.” He mumbled, but followed along. “Sophie, baby, Soph.”

“Yeah, bud?”

“My legs feel like jello.”

She grinned. “Kissing Marco had you that weak-kneed?”

“Shut uppppp.” He whined, messing with her hair. She jerked away, swatting his hand. “Hey! Quit.”

“You quit.”

“Shut it.”

He was quiet for a solid minute and she could tell he was thinking something over, with the way his brow was furrowed and lips were pursed. “Sophie Flint.”

“Yeah?” She was grateful when they arrived at the metro, tugging him onto the empty car and scanning their tickets. She wrestled him into a seat and eventually ended up on his lap after some pushing and pulling, his forehead pressed to hers. “What, Rafe.”

“Were you gonna sleep with Elena?” He looked concerned and his hands gripped her waist a little tighter.

She laughed, pulling back to brush his hair out of his face. “No, baby, I wasn’t going to sleep with her. I didn’t even know that’s what they were trying for.”

“Oh. Good. I don’t think I’d like you sleeping with someone else.” He told her, closing his eyes a little as she combed her fingers through his hair.

Sophie held back another laugh, nodding. “Yeah? I didn’t think you would. Don’t fall asleep on me, buddy.”

“Boyfriend. Not buddy. Buddy’s just a friend. I can have other nicknames too though.” He argued, letting his head fall back against the metro walls.

“What other nicknames?” She asked, moving to get off his lap, but he just tightened his grip on her so she couldn’t.

“Hm…I’m okay with smokeshow.”

She snorted, nodding. “Alright, smokeshow. We can go with that.”

“Sophie.”

“Yes, Rafe.”

“I’m in love with you.” He declared, leaning forward and placing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. She beamed and leaned in too to bump her nose against his, then press a short kiss to his lips. “You’re very sweet when you’re drunk.”

“I need you to say it back.” He frowned, tugging gently at the ends of her hair.

“I’m in love with you too.” She grinned. “Adore you, even.”

He hummed, looking her over with concentration and a small smile. “I like the sound of that. Do we have to go to breakfast tomorrow? I don’t really wanna see them again.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Our train to Rome is at seven, I was kind of hoping they’d be too hungover to remember us.”

“Hostel breakfast doesn’t open til 8.” He frowned. “Am I gonna starve?”

Sophie rolled her eyes and nudged her nose against his. “No. I’ll make sure you get food.”

“You’re so good at taking care of me.” He smiled sleepily, pulling her closer and dropping his head to her shoulder.

She beamed, combing her hand through his hair. “I try my best, baby. Always will.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[conflictandscotchblog]

At This Age You’d Think I’d Know How to Chew My Food

How many times in our lives have our mothers or grandmothers told us, “Chew your food.”  Never the father or grandfather.  Why?  Because, like me, they eat like an animal, devouring fistfuls of food in a single gulp.

That is, until last Friday.  Why?  Because that’s when I choked.

Pieces of London broil, previously sliced, sat on a plate before me.  I rolled each one up, shoved it in my mouth, chewed a few times, swallowed, followed by a swig of soda.  Repeat the process.  Worked like a charm, until the soda rushed back out of my mouth all over my living room rug. I ran for the bathroom and christened my kitchen floor along the way.  Standing over the toilet, I realized that the last bit of food was still in my throat.  I grabbed a water bottle, started to chug, hoping to clear the passage. 

Nope. 

That water rushed back out of my mouth.  Nothing was getting past that defiant piece of London broil that had now taken up residence in my esophagus.

I called my doctor and was told to go to the emergency room.

As I drove myself to the hospital, car window down, I continued to throw up out the window, a dog marking my territory along the highway, so I could find my way home.

Once in the emergency room, I was handed a corrugated bucket from a stack that stood by the admission desk (guess this happens often).  Quickly, I was called from the waiting room and led to an examination room.  On the way, the nurse said I needed to get weighed.  Couldn’t this be the one time I saw a doctor  where they didn’t weigh me?  Besides, I heard choking adds ten pounds (fifteen with dessert).  I was confused when we walked passed the standup scale, and I was guided to stand on a metal plate built into the floor.  Am I that fat that I need to be weighed like freight? 

Apparently, yes. 

Next, I was moved to an examination room.

And there, I waited.

I entered the examination room at 7:30 p.m. but had first contact around 8:15.  Everyone was friendly, and I’m sure mine was the least dire emergency in the place.  After a time, I had the distinct impression I was on their ‘every forty-five minutes’ schedule.  First, a quick hello and review of my problem.  Next round, an IV bag of saline injected into my arm.  Next round, a doctor who told me that they were going to inject a medication (a name I wouldn’t even try to pronounce) that will probably not work.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t.

I was told drinking a soda may dislodge the object and asked if we could start with that.

“Good idea,” the doctor said as she left.  Forty-five minutes later, with medication not working in my arm, a nurse looked at me from across the hall and yelled to no one in particular, “Can we get a soda over here, please.”

A few minutes later, I was handed a Coke.

“Oh,” I said, “I was hoping for something with lemon.”

I’m sure everyone in the E.R. appreciates a good joke; surprised they didn’t slap a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ sticker on my back when I wasn’t looking.

Shortly after that, a man wheeled a laptop on a stand into my room.  Asked for I.D., and the usual questions, as he populated fields on his screen with my pertinent information.  Was I being booked, I asked.  He didn’t know, that wasn’t his job, he replied.

What was his job, apparently, was to return ten minutes later, as my food still stayed lodged in my throat, and hand me a bill for my stay so far.

“Do you want to take care of this now, or should we mail it to you?”

You could imagine the reply I wanted to give.  I said to bill me.  Was I to be presented with a bill hourly?  Why not just put a meter on the door?  At least then I could play along.

The doctor returned and said, since the food hasn’t dislodged, she was calling in the G.I. team.

“You’re calling in the army for this?”  More jokes, more laughter ensued.

Then I asked if I could leave once this was over.

“Absolutely,” the doctor said and left the room.

Just after midnight, I sat in a much larger examination room, with gastroenterologist, anesthesiologist, two nurses, and two very large machines at the ready.

The anesthesiologist explained what he was going to do, as I signed one page after another of my consent.  Just after I signed the last one, I again asked if I could leave once this was over.

“Absolutely not,” the anesthesiologist said as he placed all the forms into a neat pile.

“I was told I could leave,” I said.

“Whoever told you that did not know what they are talking about.”

Just what every patients wants to hear while sitting in the Emergency Room.

Then the gastroenterologist stepped in with his question.  As I answered, he scribbled my responses.  When he asked if I had any sudden weight loss, I slapped my stomach and said, “Does it look like I’ve had weight loss?”

He did not look up, did not crack a smile, just kept scribbling.  Then he said something that made me think I should stop making jokes, “I have been doing this for years, and it never happens, but if I tear into your esophagus we will be rushing you into emergency surgery.” 

Why did I feel like this was the medical version of “I swear, honey, this never happened before”?

Directed to lie on my side, an IV plugged into my arm and a plastic oval strapped onto my mouth, which gave me a permanent surprised expression, I was about to say, ‘I can’t really breath’ when I heard, “Good night.”

I woke up an hour later, the room empty except for one nurse, and my throat clear.

For the next five-and-a-half hours I lay in the hospital bed, wide awake.  I scrolled through the channels on the TV, watched reruns of “Petticoat Junction” and “77 Sunset Strip.” For some reason, there was a channel where you could order “Adam & Eve” sex toys.

Wonder if that would be covered under my insurance?

I fell asleep about twenty minutes before the doctor came in, turned on the lights, and asked me how I felt.  Twenty minutes after that, I was released and headed for home.

For the rest of the day I was very cautious about how I ate.  But I’m proud to say that I learned my lesson, chew my food now without incident, and it never happened again.

Oh, wait, did I mention this is only Part One of the story?

Photograph by Amanda DeLuise

[reactivebangtan]

REQUEST: Are your requests open? I didn’t see anything saying that they weren’t so I’m sorry if they’re not. But if they are could you possibly do a BTS reaction to when their S/O comes home after a really stressful day at work and something really little and trivial sets them off and makes them cry? I work in a memory care facility and today was literally the worst. REQUESTED BY: anonymous WARNINGS: nothing! NOTES: this is so late but i hope your day got a little better!  ♡ 

he could see it as soon as you walked in the door — your usual smile upon hearing his ‘ welcome home, sweetheart! ’ was dim, your eyes seemed distant ( he’d bet anything that your head wasn’t where your body was ), and even your feet seemed out of place as you moved from the front door. there was no telling what caused it or how bad the damage was, but he didn’t bother second-guessing himself when he asked: ❝ are you okay, babe? ❞ from his place in the kitchen — he’d gotten so used to cooking meals late to accommodate your work schedule that he simply found himself there around this time everyday — he could see the way your whole body tensed, the way you paused, the way his question rolled over you and he could see exactly when it hit you. it seems that was all it took, as even though your mouth never opened, the tears that immediately welled in your eyes and shook your shoulders answered his question all on their own. instantly, you had two strong arms wrapping themselves around your body and supporting your weight, allowing you to lean into him completely as the shell you’d precariously built around yourself came crumbling down. sobs shook your body, your limbs trembled with every inhale and your chest squeezed with every exhale, and even though seokjin held you up it felt as if the floor was coming out from under you. after consistently holding it in all day it felt almost therapeutic to let it go, though, and once he sat you down and your cries calmed into little hiccups and gasps you could feel the weight of the day sliding off you in languid, heavy waves. every once in a while his thumb would pass over your cheek to catch a stray tear, or you’d feel his mouth press to the side of your head, as if he wanted to make sure you knew he was still there, sitting with you — he never asked another question, never bothered to shush you, simply allowing you to get it all out until you couldn’t cry anymore. and, by the time you did finally stop, he smiled at you like your eyes weren’t puffy and your nose wasn’t running and your make-up wasn’t streaked all over the place — he smiled like it was his first time seeing you walk through the door, like he’d been missing you all day, like he didn’t mind all the mess. there’s no ‘ do you feel better, now? ’, no ‘ get it all out? ’, no trying to cheer you up and simply move past this, just the serene calm that washes over you when he brushes your hair back and kisses your forehead one more time. ❝ how does a bath sound? you can soak the day off, and dinner should be finished by the time you get out. come on — i’ll start it for you. ❞

yoongi tried not to take it too personally when your response to him showing up at your place was dismissive and almost tired, brushing it off as you simply being exhausted from working so much lately. he even chalks up the way you grumble to yourself while in the kitchen to mere fatigue, opting to hover in the doorway rather than get in your way as you seemingly argue with the vegetables and scowl at the seasonings. it isn’t until a certain scent hits his nose that he actually makes his way into the warzone, sniffing all the way up to the undeniable source before noting it as blatantly as possible: ❝ you burnt the rice. ❞ when his gaze moves from the mess inside the pot to your face he expects to see that glare fixated on him, but instead is met with you covering your mouth and turning away as soon as you notice he’s looking at you. a strange reaction to say the least, but then you were never exactly normal by any means, and it’s another thing he’s willing to excuse away until he sees the way your shoulder trembles and your breath shudders out of you, choking halfway out. it takes all of five seconds to realize what’s happening, before he’s rushing towards you with all the intent to make it stop and no real idea how. the first words that clumsily tumble out of his mouth are: ❝ it’s not that bad, ❞ but when your immediate response is a choked ❝ it’s not that, ❞ his shoulders are slumping a little further and his brows furrowing even tighter. he doesn’t try to assume what’s got you upset, aware of the fact that you’ll tell him sooner or later and that it takes more than an educated guess to understand. instead, he opts for taking you into his arms and shushing you, holding you as close as he can without completely suffocating you. yoongi has never been the best with affection, but he’s certainly not the worst, either — this shows, now, with the way his hand cradles the back of your head and leans it on his shoulder, and how he says nothing when he feels your tears soaking into the material of his shirt and hitting his skin. it isn’t the first time you’ve cried in front of yoongi, and yet you still feel ashamed through the tears and the sobs and the whimpers — clutching onto the material of his shirt, you try to stand up straight, to get yourself together, but your knees are weak and you’re so tired and all you can do is lean against him and apologize, because what else is there to do? ❝ i’m sorry — ❞ you start, but he doesn’t let you finish, quieting your weak, trembling voice with a strong: ❝ don’t be. just let it out. ❞ and, you swear he holds you a little tighter, pulls you a little closer, before you’re wrapped entirely in him.

❝ hey, babe! ❞ hoseok’s cheery voice on the other side of the phone line is almost enough to lift your spirits right away, and you almost feel as if he knew you weren’t feeling like yourself — he always seems to call when things start to look gloomy, especially when he couldn’t be there — the thought bringing a little smile to your face. ❝ hey, hobi, ❞ comes your exhausted greeting, spoken on a heavy sigh ( he’s always done that to you, dragged the air right out of you somehow, like a simple breath could knock away the weight of the world, like he has the right to steal your breath away ). ❝ what’s up? ❞ you exchange your usual conversation collectively recounting all the little steps of your day, odd chatter in the background of his end filling the silence between words and your solemn breathing, all as you prepare your dinner and buzz about your kitchen. another thing you loved about him; he listened to anything you had to say, soaking it all in like a sponge and relishing in it, all because he couldn’t be there with you to experience it all firsthand — it’s second best to the real thing, but it’s enough. it isn’t until you accidentally swipe your hand over the counter in a grand display to what you were explaining that conversation stops mid-sentence and he’s left questioning you as to why you’ve gone quiet — you say nothing, already feeling your throat closing up at the sight before you begins swimming in a blend of color and shapes as tears fill your eyes. food — the last of the food you have in your house — is now all over the floor and painting the sides of your counters, and you swear you see a crack in the side of the bowl you had put it all in. all hoseok gets is a quiet chanting of ‘ no, no, no, no, ’ and more questions than answers. sure, it was cheap food and the bowl was plastic, but you were looking forward to finally sitting down and enjoying something today, and yet it seems the divines have other plans. ❝ what happened? are you okay? ❞ ❝ no, ❞ you whine, voice now clouded and thick with the frustration and despair that had built a home in your chest and decided to, apparently, live there. his chest aches, too, when he hears the way you whimper helplessly into the phone. ❝ my dinner is all over the floor and i have nothing else to eat and the bowl is broken and it’s everywhere and — ❞ ❝ okay! okay, hey, breathe, ❞ it’s all he can do to cut you off, evening out his own breathing and listening for yours to do the same. ❝ it’s okay. it’s just food, right? you didn’t get hurt? ❞ waiting again to hear your affirmation, the smallest of smiles worms its way onto his face — god, you could be wailing at the top of your lungs, and he’d still think you’re cute. ❝ i’ve got an idea — can you wait to clean it up? ❞ ❝ yeah, i guess... ❞ you sniffle, wiping away the few stray tears that escaped your eyes in the midst of your despair.  ❝ why? ❞ ❝ 'cause i’m coming over to help! ❞ he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you can just hear the door close behind him as he saunters out into the world, on his way to find you.  ❝ and, i’m bringing pizza. unlock your door for me, okay? ❞

a sudden gasp and a yelped ‘ no, please don’t — ! ’ from the other room is enough to get namjoon up and out of the professional stupor he’d been in for the last three hours, finally leaving his pen and paper behind for the sake of whatever you’d gotten yourself into this time. he’s prepared for something spilled or something ripped or perhaps something broken, but what he isn’t prepared for is to see you standing over something spilled, ripped and broken with tears in your eyes. your latest book, one you’d been particularly excited about reading, lay at your feet with the pages soaked through with juice you’d left sitting on the side, words bleeding out into the paper and smearing, one page even half-torn and dangling just past the rest. in an effort to save it, you’d grabbed the closest thing available — which ended up being one of your shirts from the day before — and began desperately pressing it to the pages in order to soak some of the mess up. it did very little, and only caused you to get more frustrated, which ended up in another influx of tears.  ❝ hey, babe, it’s okay, ❞ namjoon’s soothing voice washes over you as he steps farther into the room, causing you to finally look up from the disaster before you.  ❝ i can buy you a new one, alright? please don’t cry over it. ❞ his words drip with honey, sugared in sympathy and a level of care that only he can produce, just as his hands reach out to wipe away the freshest of your tears as they trail hotly down your cheeks. ❝ it’s not just the book, ❞ you start, lip quivering — his heart breaks a little at the sight of it. ❝ everything’s been going wrong today. everything. ❞ 

it’s impossible to imagine how frustrated you must be just by your words alone, but he’s got a pretty good idea — he’s well acquainted with the sentiment, knowing far too well how it feels to have everything seemingly out of your control, crashing down around you and swallowing you up in the aftermath. watching as you spare another glance at the mess that is your destroyed book and seeing the way your shoulders sag in defeat, he spares one last glance himself at the door he’d walked through only moments before and sets his mouth in a hard-line; work can wait, he decides. ❝ well, we can’t go wrong with takeout, right? ❞ a smile alights his face when you shrug in response, nodding shortly after.  ❝ how about we call some food in and just chill out for the night? we can... watch some movies or something. something with a happy ending. how does that sound? ❞ his smile only grows when you notices your own slowly bringing itself to life on the deadened features you’d taken to, just as you reach up to swipe away the last of the evidence of your minor breakdown. you glow, again ( at least, in his eyes ). ❝ yeah... that sounds perfect. ❞

you’ve held it in all day, expertly avoided questions like ‘ hey, are you okay? ’ and smiled every time someone got a little too close to seeing through your facade. it took all the willpower you had to not either leave or breakdown in the bathroom, already beyond frustrated with most everything going on — it didn’t help that nothing seemed to go your way, everything that could go wrong was and absolutely no one seemed to care but you. because of all this, you can’t help the relief that washes over you when you’re standing in front of your front door, knowing that beyond lay not only a bottle of wine and a cozy bed, but also your loving boyfriend.  ❝ jimin? ❞ you call out as you shut it behind you, unable to help yourself from seeking him out almost immediately. getting a soft ‘ back here! ’ in return, you begin trailing to the back of your shared apartment, a little smile beginning to bloom on your lips as the comfortable silence in the house lapses over everything else and peace surrounded you. you’re no longer paying attention to what room you enter or how your body swerves around different corners, only aware of the fact that he’d be waiting there with open arms and that dazzling smile of his at the end. it isn’t until your feet hit the cold tile floor of your bathroom that you stop to notice the walls that encase you and, in turn, the divine scene set before you. candles were precariously placed on all the places they’d fit ( one balanced on the sink, on the back of the toilet, two on the thin rims of the bathtub, even one on the floor ), water was filled to the brim of the tiny tub with petals delicately scattered over the surface and a pleasant aroma filled the air — cinnamon and sugar and sweet almond, a soft blend that hits you just as your eyes settle on the man you’d been waiting hours to see. ❝ what is all of this? ❞ you ask, and he doesn’t seem to notice the tremble in your voice right away, instead smiling sheepishly in return and averting his gaze nervously. ❝ well, you texted me that you weren’t feeling well, and you always do this sort of thing for me when i’m not feeling my best, so... ❞ when all he gets in silence in return he finally forces himself to look at you and gauge your reaction, as, for some reason beyond him, he was utterly terrified to see what it was. did he do too much? too little? did he mess something up? the horror only doubled when he saw you covering your mouth and tears springing to your eyes, threatening to flow freely any moment — the candles flickered against them, alighted them and gived them a glow, and suddenly all he wanted to do was snuff them out. despite the fear and anxiety, he rushes to you within an instant and hovers just outside of touching you for fear of provoking you further:  ❝ ah! did i do something wrong? i didn’t mean to make you cry! ❞ ❝ no, ❞ you manage to choke out, one hand shooting out to balance yourself on his bicep, squeezing and trying to ground yourself; eventually, you have no choice but to shut your eyes and let the tears fall from your lashes.  ❝ it’s nothing you did. this is — this is wonderful, jimin, thank you. ❞ the fear dissolves as your words spill as clumsily from your lips as your tears from your eyes, but the anxiety remains nuzzled into his chest, just as you do a moment later. this time, without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you and supports your weight as you try to calm yourself down, reign yourself in, and when you fail to do even that. ❝ did something happen at work today? ❞ ❝ something like that, ❞ comes your weak response.  ❝ i’m sorry, jimin. you must’ve worked really hard to do all of this, and yet i’m... ❞ ❝ it’s okay, ❞ his voice is so sweet, so soft, whispered right into your ear, warming your skin.  ❝ you know i don’t mind. besides, you can still enjoy it, right? ❞ sinking into his arms and filling your lungs with air ( and, in turn, the scent he’d chosen ), you allow your heart to settle in your chest and the tears to slow, the ache in your head subsiding — how did you ever get to be so lucky?     ❝ can... we enjoy it? ❞ a chuckle is your immediate response, before he’s kissing the top of your head and smoothing his hands down your sides — he takes his time sliding his fingertips beneath the hem of your shirt and lifting it just as slowly, caressing the dip of your hip and the curve of your waist as he does so, and the rest of your clothes are slipped off all in the same way:  ❝ i’d like that. ❞   

water thoroughly soaks through the material of your clothing and the chill that comes with it sinks into your skin and aches in your bones, all of which cause you to tremble and shake. you can see no sign of the rain stopping anytime soon, and all you can think is how this is the perfect ending to the worst sort of day — it can’t get any worse, you mock yourself in your head. now all i can do is look up! right. you couldn’t look up if you wanted to at the moment, unless you wanted to drown, both physically ( which you know isn’t exactly possible, but after considering your luck for the day you decide not to take the risk ) and metaphorically.  the noise of water hitting concrete drowned out your groans and little whimpers, the cold coaxing them out of you over and over, until you weren’t sure you knew how to make any other sound. thankfully, you managed to find an overhanging roof that you could tuck yourself under, but every so often the wind would blow the rain onto you anyway, and it dripped incessantly from above, soaking into your hair. without truly realizing it, you begin to tear up, salt mingling with the fresh water clinging to your form — it isn’t until you feel the warmth racing down your cheek and cooling by the time it drips off your chin that you truly realize.  it made sense, after a day like this — it seemed no matter how hard you worked things wouldn’t go right, and you could see the annoyance in your co-workers eyes every single time you messed up even slightly, until you couldn’t bare to look them in the eye anymore. those you were helping never seemed to be satisfied, and your help seemed to just add to their problems, until you tried to hang back and interact as little as possible. eventually, this all added up to you getting yelled at and reprimanded for things you couldn’t really help, which, although it wasn’t your breaking point, it was pretty damn close. and, if that weren’t enough, you were looking forward to finally going home and being able to relax, maybe grab a glass of that good wine you’ve been waiting to serve and take a hot bath, until even that was taken from you as soon as you stepped up to the exit. you could feel the cold from the other side of the glass, and you tried to prepare yourself, you really did, but the walk back home was far too long for weather like this. still, you had no other choice. it is, afterall, how you got here. the world around you seems bleak, without life and color, and the sheer loneliness of it has you clutching at yourself in order to ground yourself — the feeling brings you back to the real world just enough for you to shove your hand into your bag and rummage around in order to find your phone, finally resorting to your last option. when the line clicks and you hear him shuffling around, you don’t even give him a chance to say ‘ hello? ’: ❝ tae? ❞ ❝ y/n? is everything okay? ❞ ❝ if ‘ okay ’ is being drenched and freezing, then yes, ❞ you try to reply smoothly, but you’re certain he can hear the tremble in your voice. ❝ are you, by any chance, busy? ❞ ❝ too busy to come pick you up? no, ❞ his reply is smooth, though, and it eases you just a little.  ❝ send me your location. ❞ waiting there for him seems to take forever, and the lonely streets only get lonelier and lonelier the longer you’re left standing there, by yourself, anticipating everything and nothing all at once. you find yourself thinking things like ‘ what if he doesn’t come? ’ and ‘ what if he forgets? ’ despite knowing he’d never do such a thing. and, you thought you were crying before, but the relief that washes over you when you finally spot taehyung’s car is enough to bring it all back, your lip trembling and your eyes stinging. it’s damn near overwhelming, how it forces the air out of your lungs and has you clutching ever tighter to yourself. it doesn't get bad, though, until you actually see him stepping out of the car, your eyes immediately meeting through the thick curtain of water dividing you. with an umbrella in hand and his destination seemingly nothing but you, you get all choked up and practically run to him when he’s close enough. the umbrella just barely shields you both from the onslaught of rain, but it’s enough to get you both in the car, his clothes, for the most part, unscathed.  and, in the immense relief comes even more as you feel the hot air coming out of the car, momentarily blinding you to the fact that you’re still crying. it was impossible to stop yourself, to shut it all down, and by the time you’re trying to simply it and the evidence of the torrential downpour off your cheeks, he notices.  ❝ bad day? ❞ he asks, reaching out far enough to lay a hand over your thigh, squeezing. ❝ yeah, ❞ you breathe. ❝ the worst. i’m sorry for taking you away from whatever you were doing, though. ❞ ❝ don’t be — i didn’t even know it was raining until you called, otherwise i would’ve come to pick you up at work. ❞ not once today has someone said ‘ don’t be ’ to you today when you apologized, not once have they showed you sympathy, and not once have they shown you care. that is the final straw. ❝ thank you, ❞ you start, eyes watering and mouth turned up into the softest, shakiest smile. he only looks at you briefly, trying to keep his attention fixated on the road, but whatever he manages to see is enough to make him frown.  ❝ thank you, taehyung. ❞ ❝ thank me when we get back to the dorms, ❞ comes his curt reply, another swift squeeze on your thigh stopping you from saying otherwise or arguing with his decision.  ❝ they’re closer, and i don’t want you getting sick from staying in those clothes. this project shouldn't’ take much longer, anyway, so i should be able to spend some time with you tonight. we can... order take-out, and just sit around or watch a movie or something. how does that sound? ❞ ❝ sounds like the best thing i’ve heard all day. ❞   

among the top of the list of things you love about jungkook is his spirited, competitive mentality that always seemed to push him to do his best in anything and everything — it was one of the things that attracted you to him in the first place, one of those things you find endearing ( most people look at you weird for that, but you don’t mind ), and something you deal well with. sure, you might get a little competitive yourself, but it didn’t seem to matter who really won to you when you were with him. whether you won or lost you got something out of it, whether it be his cute pout or his beautiful smile. this is why, after you got home and he could practically see the stress rolling off you in tangible waves, then proceeded to offer to play you on your favorite video game you couldn’t see it going wrong. a perfect way to unwind after a long day and vent your frustrations, right? wrong. every time you got your score beat and your ass virtually kicked it just seemed like a repeat of the whole day — you couldn’t do anything right, the buttons weren’t working the way they were supposed to and you just kept failing. you couldn’t even win one time! not once! just as quickly as the frustration had melted away when you stepped through the front door, it seemed to return just as fast the longer you stared at that damn screen, the bright colors and lively music taunting you. where his usual little whoops of triumph and victory dance might’ve warmed you on a normal day, today they only set the feeling in stone and weighed down on your shoulders like absolutely everything else. it isn’t until he wins for the tenth time that you really start to feel it, though, that overwhelming and suffocating sort of frustration that makes your chest ache and your head hurt and everything in you tense at the sensation of it. the controller protested with a subtle crackling noise as your hands tightened around it, and it was all you could do to simply look away and clench your jaw. i will not cry over this, you chant in your head. i will not cry over this. no matter of trying to convince yourself would work, though, as even though your eyes are closed you can feel the tears building up behind your lids. the heat of them is overwhelming, burning their way past your lashes and trailing down your cheeks before you can even try to stop them. ❝ babe? ❞ jungkook breaks you from your inner turmoil, just as he’s leaning close to you to get a glimpse of your expression, but can’t quite reach that far. ❝ you’re not really that mad about losing, are you? ❞ it’s all you can offer, a shake of your head instead of words that come out on a shaky breath and crack halfway up your throat, so weak in tone that you just feel that much more worthless. you know he can hear it anyway, that he knows, that you’re not hiding it as well as you would’ve liked to. ❝ babe? ❞ he asks once again, his question now soft and tender and so, so aware.  ❝ are you... are you crying? ❞ there’s no need to look at him to know his mouth is turned down and his brows are pinched together, and there’s no need for him to see your face when he already knows tears are marring it all the way down your cheeks. suddenly, though, he’s moving from his seat to stand in front of you, his controller tumbling from his lap and clattering to the floor — the noise has your eyes popping open, only to see him standing there, looking at you with those big, worry-filled eyes. the sympathy is damn near tangible, rolling off of him in thick, languid waves that wash over you until you’re crying all over again. ❝ i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ it’s not you, ❞ you start, assuring him of your words with a squeeze to his bicep. ❝ today has just been — ❞ the words get caught in your throat just from remembering it all, leading to you momentarily choking on them. ❝ nothing’s been going right, i kept messing up at work, i can’t even do this right, and it’s making me feel so — so worthless. ❞ he never knows what to do in these situations, can never think of the right thing to say, too caught up in the fact that you’re hurting to think of anything else. the best thing he can do is run his hand down the length of your arm until he can lace his fingers together with yours, holding on to you as tight as he can in hopes of grounding you here, with him. ❝ you know i’m not... good at this sort of thing, but is there anything i can do? ❞ it takes you moment to think about it, but the idea comes quickly enough:  ❝ could we maybe just... lay down for a bit? ❞ the idea of being all wrapped up in him is almost as therapeutic as the real thing, and you can feel your heart slowing down at just the thought — even if it’s just being close to him, or the smell of him, or his heat radiating against your side you feel calm instantaneously.  ❝ yeah, of course, but are you sure you want me there? i just made you cry. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t you, ❞ you remind him, squeezing his hand right back. ❝ i couldn’t think of anything else today, other than coming home to you. being near you, it... it helps me. you help me. ❞ a sheepish smile works its way onto his lips, and he’s finally looking like himself again — worry is still evident on his features, but it’s become dim and overwhelmed by the joy now twinkling in his eyes from your words.  ❝ let’s go, then, ❞ he replies, taking to picking you up straight out of your seat and depositing you into his arms, holding you close to him even when your squirming and exclamation of ‘ kookie! ’ says you can walk perfectly fine on your own. ❝ what? we’ll get there faster like this! ❞ ( and, despite your pushing at his chest and adamant wiggling, a smile has bloomed upon your face and your tears have begun to dry, that renewed twinkle reflecting in your eyes as well. )   

[angeltriestoblog]

Unnecessary life update

i.

I have officially made it to the halfway point of this quarter. And I don’t mean to sound morbid but I didn’t expect to at all!

It’s just that I’ve recently learned that chronic sleep deprivation actually does lead to premature death and I’ve slept at three in the morning everyday since I started online schooling. (Though actual scientific evidence has always been available on the Internet, I found it easier to believe that this was a hoax.) But concerning as it may be, the past two weeks have been so demanding of my time and energy, resting didn’t seem like an option.

ii.

Much to the dismay of Freshman Angel, most organizations in Ateneo require an interview as part of the application process. I remember signing up for three departments in my home org back then: I sweated my way through one screening, completely flunked the other, and ghosted the last. I also applied to be part of our hosting pool and made a run for it at the last minute: despite having spent only two weeks on campus, I easily found a secret passageway leading to the nearest exit just so that I wouldn’t have to run into the officer in charge of my audition.

Given the unfortunate display of cowardice, it’s hard to believe that this year, I found myself on the other side. I conducted several ICs (rebranded to individual conversations) in an attempt to welcome freshmen, give them a picture of what awaits them in ACTM, and hopefully serve as one of their first friends, if I built enough rapport with them. 

The week after, I had to conduct interviews and screen all hopefuls who wanted to make it into my department. I only spoke with 13 of them through a screen but I had to go through three times more application forms, interview footage, and assessments to determine who would make it to our final line-up. One night, I binge-watched the recordings of all the interviews I conducted in chronological order and I didn’t know if I found my waning energy levels depressing or funny. Toward the last few, I refused to turn on my camera because I had gotten a sudden allergy attack.

iii.

And as if the load I bear as an associate vice president in ACTM wasn’t heavy enough, I joined five other orgs last recruitment week. I wouldn’t go and call the quarantine a blessing because I’m not an asshole but these past few months have made me realize that I want to do and be so many things in life and I missed the opportunity to start on them earlier, since I spent the first few years of college hanging around with no end goal in mind. So in a fit of impulsiveness, I signed up for:

The Development Society of the Ateneo, where I will be working either as an advocacy or consultancy trainee under the research and development department (depends on how my interview this Thursday fares);

Ateneo Education Geared Towards Empowerment, where I will be gathering data from our partner communities to help the organization provide quality education given the online setting;

Ateneo Association of Communication Majors, where I will be under the research and development department yet again of MIRLab, their documentary production house;

Ateneo PEERS, where I will be part of a peer support program intended to help in my self-improvement, and that of others as well;

Project Kabuhayan, where I will be participating in initiatives geared towards empowering micro, small, and medium enterprises

I had general assemblies for most of them: had to ditch two for a midterm, and will be watching the recordings tomorrow. I didn’t even have to talk in any of them; simply watch the officers speak about their projects for the year then head on over to my designated breakout room. But the mere idea of being perceived by hundreds of Zoom call participants was already enough to drain my social battery.

iv.

To top it all off, my major tasks for all three subjects I’m taking this quarter were due last Friday. I had a group podcast for Philosophy class which we had to shoot twice on the busiest day of my week. I wanted nothing more than to get it over with, so when we wrapped up our first attempt, we were ready to let it go through some rushed post-production and submit it without giving it a second look. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of submitting subpar work when the task is supposed to be easy, given enough discipline.

Another group I was a part of had a marketing plan (you’ll never guess which subject it was for) that proposed the rebranding of Adidas Originals to cater to an older target market, or “the active ageing”, as we liked to call it. We only found out a couple of hours before the deadline that our professor was not accepting anything over 10 pages just when we had hit the 40-page mark. All of our well-researched, comprehensive parts had to be cut down significantly, which was the equivalent of flushing many sleepless nights down the drain.

And of course, I had a case study and midterm to accomplish for Law. The minute I received the message confirming the submission of my answers, I plopped down on my bed and napped. Later on that night, I released all the pent-up tension in me by going on my first ever e-numan. I never got the logic behind drinking alcohol in front of my computer: I always thought it was a sad attempt to replicate the bustling nightlife of Katip or the intimate energy of barkada chillnumans in condominiums. But I guess all I needed was the right company, and some sweet-tasting Novellino.

Anyway, before this turns into a full-on advert for a brand that isn’t even sponsoring this post, let me move on.

Reading that probably exhausted you. As the one who had to live through all that, I can tell you: it was even more hectic than you think. Before this pandemic was a thing, my schedule was clear-cut. I could tell the days of the week apart, and appreciate the endless possibility brought by Friday evenings. I could wake up at eight on Saturday morning, smile to myself because of how early it is, and go back to sleep without any feelings of guilt.

Now, the line that separates work and home has been completely obliterated. The Internet promotes that I have to be at the top of my game all the time. Every moment spent in rest and recreation is a moment wasted when there’s so much to do, always somewhere to be even if I’m technically not allowed to leave the comfort of my own home. 

I would sometimes report to my friends that I threw my circadian rhythm out the window, which would be met with the same well-meaning outcries. “What the hell! Drop all your commitments! Pace yourself! Sleep early!”. I think they know by now that this often falls on deaf ears. Ironically, whenever I observe or hear of friends falling into the same patterns as me, I’m often one of the first to reprimand. I sentence them to early bedtime like a stressed suburban mother of two, and check in on them constantly to see if they’re doing alright. I tell them not to pressure themselves to perform at their very best, while working myself to the bone, writing this ~2,000 word essay at half past two in the morning.

But one conversation I had with one of my friends stood out. He told me how proud he was of me: that even if I’m so busy juggling so many things, it all pays off in the end because I’m genuinely happy and fulfilled. I get to see the fruits of my labor and share it with the world.

Which is so true. I honestly enjoy the success that comes from this hyperproductivity, and take pride in the output that I manage to churn out. I’m willing to give up hours of sleep if it means getting to do what will help me make my pipe dreams a reality, or create something that sets my soul on fire.I don’t mind going out of my comfort zone if it’s to talk to new people who have the potential of being some of my greatest friends in the future, or advocating for causes that I’m passionate about. 

In fact, I am so willing to prolong my period of working to welcome the new members of my department or create even more articles to talk about pressing cultural phenomena. It will be hard as hell while the sacrifice is still ongoing but I always know that it will lead to something greater and bigger than I am. 

Besides, when I feel like I can no longer take it, I don’t think I’ll have it in me to force myself. It might not look like it but I am afraid of the serious health risks and will try to slot in more time for sleep if need be. But I have no plans of backing out of anything right now since I’m still on top of everything. Guess I’m fueled by a genuine desire to give/be/do as much as I can, while I still can. 

v.

Where did this post even go, honestly… This was supposed to be a simple life update, complete with a pop culture recommendation to supplement my experiences. I did not expect it to spiral the way it did so now I have no idea how to transition from one part to the next in a way that isn’t entirely awkward. Oh well.

I managed to preserve my sanity these past two weeks by listening to only one artist. Anyone who follows me on Spotify must think that their Friend Activity tab is glitching but the rumors are indeed true: I have been listening to chosen songs from The Boyz’ discography on a constant loop, like an actual zombie. Count on me to get into a new K-Pop group during the busiest week of the quarter as a coping mechanism.

I was an anti of this group when they first debuted because they are home to a former Produce 101 contestant whom I hated. (Still do, up to now. Don’t know how to reconcile my conflicting feelings.) So you could say I was heavily biased from the start and refused to give them a chance. Thankfully, one of my best friends recently converted after watching them on Road to Kingdom and sent me some of their performances to reel me in. Since I am a girl with a working brain and pair of eyes, I was easily impressed. When they came back recently with The Stealer, I officially fell and made no active efforts to get up.

If there are any Deobis reading, (1) congrats, you are a person of taste; (2) please be my friend. My current favorite songs other than their latest title track are No Air, I’m Your Boy, and Break Your Rules. I’ve also started most mornings with their Danger live stage. Who needs caffeine when you have acrobatic stunts and good-looking men?

I also have a lot of exciting things coming up, which I just felt the need to share:

I’m going to be a panelist at a talk for Developh, an organization I’m a part of which leverages technology for social good. This Friday, October 16th, I’ll be joining three brilliant go-getters from different fields to talk about my internship at makesense Philippines (which warrants another blog post) as well as my experience as a freelance writer. 

I have a couple of published pieces in the pipeline right now that I absolutely cannot wait to share! I honestly think they’re some of my favorites. Over the past few weeks, I have written about Internet study communities, the Subtle Asian Dating Facebook group, and unpaid internships. I’ve also pitched a couple more to my bosses and they’ve given me the green light at the same time so yes, once again, I am running on tight deadlines.

I’ll be applying for internships once this quarter is over and I’m already considering a couple of start-ups as good prospects. I’m making my personalized CVs for each company and saving the contact details of the designated point people in a neat little Notion spread for easy access.

Feels weird to end this post with stay safe and healthy, and don’t forget to rest. Maybe I’ll just make that a note to self.

Love and light,

Angel

[spectroamer]

SERVERTALE Chapter 13: A change of plans

As Frisk starts walking, her phone starts buzzing within seconds. ALPHYS updated status. well i know she’s unbeatable, i’ll ask her abt it later ^. ^ ALPHYS updated status. for now i gotta call up the human and guide them =^. ^= Frisk: Did she forget that i can read her posts? Chara: Probably. Frisk walks over a some type of transferring platform. hen she crosses it, she gets another message. ALPHYS updated status. gonna call them in a minute!! =^. ^= Frisk finds a save point and uses it. The wooshing sound of steam and cogs... it fills you with determination 01000110 01101001 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01100101 01100100  The lava below is brightening up the whole area. The temperature is warm, but somehow not too warm.  ALPHYS updated status. I HATE USING THE PHONE I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS Chara: Yup, she has no idea. Frisk reaches the end of the path here there is a cliff and some sort of a steam platform. Chara: What do we do now? Frisk thinks for a second before getting an idea. Frisk: I think i have a plan. Chara: What is it? Frisk points to the vent that’s releasing a lot of steam. Chara: Oh no. no no no no. Don’t you dare jump on that thing. Frisk jumps on the platform anyway, sending her high up in the air. Chara: FRISK! Frisk safely lands on the other side. her hair is a little bit messy from all the wind of the steam rushing through it. Chara: Do you have a death wish or something? Frisk: Oh look who’s talking. Chara: Fair enough. Frisk: Hey Chara. Chara: What. Frisk points to more vents in front, having the biggest grin. Frisk: There are more. Chara: Oh hell no. Frisk gets a running start and launches herself above the gap. When she lands, her phone buzzes again. ALPHYS updated status. omg ive had my claw over the last digit for 5 minutes omg i’m just gonna do it im just gonna call!!!! Chara: I guess that’s gonna take a while. Frisk launches herself over another gap and her phone rings Chara: Or not. Frisk tries to answer, but the caller hung up before she could do it. Chara: Yup, I was right. Frisk walks to the next room. There’s an orange laser blocking the path. Frisk: Where should we go now? Chara: I think that laser is safe to go through. Frisk: Since when are lasers safe? Chara: As much as I remember, orange lasers don’t hurt you while you are moving. Frisk: Than what’s the point of this one. Chara: It is placed here so that monsters don’t stay too long on the pipes, after all, they weren’t built for walking on them. Frisk: Oh, ok. Frisk’s phone starts ringing again, but this time, she succeeds to answer the call. Alphys: Uhh! H-hi, so, the blue lasers... Uhh! I mean, Alphys here! Hi! The blue lasers won’t hurt you if you don’t move! O-orange ones, um... Y-you have to be moving and they... Um, they won’t, um... Move through those ones! ...Uhh, bye! ALPHYS updated status. OMG I DID IT!!! claws haven’t shook like that since undyne called me to ask about the weather... v. v Chara: How is she so fast? Frisk: I have no idea. Frisk runs through the orange lasers and stops after them to observe the movement of the blue laser. Her phone buzzes again. ALPHYS updated status. WAIT THERE’S NO WEATHER DOWN HERE WHY DID SHE CALL ME Frisk snickers. She has memorized the speed of the lasers and gets ready to go through it. Frisk runs half way, before stopping so that the laser can safely go through her, before continuing to run through the orange one. She does the same thing with the rest of the lasers and reaches the end of that part. There is a giant tube construct with a button on it next to her. Frisk: Should I press it? Chara: Wait, just give me a moment. Chara opens the console and scans the switch. She sees the wires leading to all the lasers. Chara: You can press it. Frisk: Ok. Frisk presses the switch and it turns off all the lasers. They enter the next room and her phone buzzes again.  ALPHYS updated status. Oh My God i Forgot to Tell HEr Where To Go Frisk: I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem. Chara: You’re right, considering the fact that there is only one way we can go. ALPHYS posted a picture. CUte PIC OF ME RIGHT NOW ^. ^ It’s a photo of a garbage can with several pink, glittery filters over it. Frisk: Well, at least the trash can does look cute. Frisk jumps over another gap using the steam vent, before Alphys calls her again. Alphys: A-A-A Alphys here! Th... the northern door will stay locked until you... S-solve the puzzles on the right and left! I... I think you sh-should g-g-go to the right first!  Alphys hangs up. Frisk follows the advice and uses the steam vent to jump on the right side. ALPHYS updated status. wonder if it would be unfun if i explained the puzzle... Frisk enters the room. When she takes a look at the puzzle, she realizes what she needs to do. She moves one of the cubes to the side and shoots the other cube and the button with the two bullets she had. Frisk exits the room and goes to the left side. On the left side, she finds a blue laser that isn’t moving. Chara: Great. How are we supposed to get past that? Just in the right time, Frisk’s phone starts ringing. Alphys: Alphys! Here! Th-that blue laser seems totally impassable! B-b-but! As the Royal Scientist, I h-have some tricks up my sleeve! I’ll h-hack into th-the Hotland laser and take it out! Alphys hangs up. Seconds later, the laser shuts down. Frisk enteres the room and solve the puzzle after a few attempts. She comes back out and goes to the big metal door. They slowly open, revealing the next area. There are a lot of small pillars with vents on them. Chara: Be careful. Frisk: Don’t worry, I’ve got the hang of this. Frisk easily jumps from one pillar to another, landing on the next part of the room. The floor is spotty, like a floor of a house would look. The next area is getting darker as she keeps walking. Frisk uses her glow stick to give her more light. She notices that the room looks like a kitchen. Suddenly, she hears Mettaton whispering. MTT: HUMAN. I HAD A PLAN OF CREATING A DEATH TRAP FOR YOU, BUT ALPHYS FAILED TO INFORM ME OF YOUR AGE. IT IS SIMPLY UNACCEPTABLE OF ME TO ATTACK AN INNOCENT YOUNG CHILD, BUT THE SHOW MUST GO ON. I WILL PRETEND TRYING TO KILL YOU AND I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU WOULD PLAY ALONG. IS THAT OKAY WITH YOU SWEETIE? Frisk: I’ll manage. MTT: IN THAT CASE, LET THE SHOW BEGIN!!! Frisk takes a few more steps forward and the room is completely dark now. Alphys calls. Alphys: H-hey, it’s kind of dark in there, isn’t it? Don’t worry! I’ll hack into the light system and brighten it up! The lights turn back on, showing the simple kitchen setup. Alphys realizes that this is one of Mettaton’s rooms Alphys: Oh no. Mettaton gets up from the table he was hiding behind. He is wearing a chef hat. MTT: OHHHH YES!!! WELCOME BEAUTIES, TO THE UNDERGROUND’S PREMIER COOKING SHOW!!!  A projector shows a screen that says “Cooking with a Killer Robot” on the wall. MTT: PRE-HEAT YOUR OVENS, BECAUSE WE’VE GOT A VERY SPECIAL RECIPY FOR YOU TODAY! WE’RE GOING TO BE MAKING... A CAKE! MY LOVELY ASSISTANT HERE WILL GATHER THE INGREDIENTS. EVERYONE GIVE THEM A  BIG HAND! Confetti starts falling around frisk and clapping can be heard from the audience... or the speakers. Frisk isn’t really sure. MTT: WE’LL NEED SUGAR, MILK, AND EGGS. GO FOR IT, SWEETHEART! Frisk takes all of the ingredients and brings them to the table. MTT: PERFECT! GREAT JOB, BEAUTIFUL! WE’VE GOT ALL OF THE INGREDIENTS WE NEED TO BAKE THE CAKE. MILK... SUGAR... EGGS...  ...OH MY! WAIT A MAGNIFICENT MOMENT! HOW COULD I FORGET!!! WE’RE MISSING THE MOST IMPORTANT INGREDIENT! Mettaton’s screen turns completely red as he picks up a chainsaw. Chara: Well he likes being dramatic. MTT: A HUMAN SOUL!!!! Mettaton slowly starts moving towards Frisk, while she acts like she’s scared. When Mettaton gets close to Frisk, Alphys calls Mettaton. MTT: HELLO...? I’M KIND OF IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING HERE.  Alphys; W-wait a second!!! Couldn’t you make a... Couldn’t you use a... Couldn’t you make a substitution in the recipe?  MTT: ...A SUBSTITUTION? YOU MEAN, USE A DIFFERENT, NON-HUMAN INGREDIENT? ...WHY? Alphys: Uhh, what if someone’s... Vegan?  MTT: VEGAN.  Alphys: Well, I mean- Before Alphys gets the chance to finish her sentence, Mettaton already finds the plan as a perfect plot twist an goes with it. MTT: THAT’S A BRILLIANT IDEA, ALPHYS!! ACTUALLY, I HAPPEN TO HAVE AN OPTION RIGHT HERE!!! MTT-BRAND ALWAYS-CONVENIENT HUMAN-SOUL-FLAVOR-SUBSTITUTE! A CAN OF WHICH... IS JUST OVER ON THAT COUNTER!!!  The camera switches over to the single can at the end of the room. MTT: WELL, DARLING? WHY DON’T YOU GO GET IT? Frisk walks over to the counter. Just as she is about to grab the can, the counter lifts up to the sky (well, the Computerworld’s definition of the sky, to be more accurate).  MTT: BY THE WAY, OUR SHOW RUNS ON A STRICT SCHEDULE.  IF YOU CAN’T GET THE CAN IN THE NEXT ONE MINUTE... WE’LL JUST HAVE TO GO BACK TO THE ORIGINAL PLAN!!! SO... BETTER START CLIMBING, BEAUTIFUL!!!  Alphys calls Frisk. Alphys: Oh no!!! There’s not enough time to climb up! F-f-fortunately, I might have a plan! Those boots that i gave you, i made a few... features. Frisk hears the metal plates on the bottom of the boots moving. Alphys; They’re poered by magic and you’re determination, so they should be able to keep you going long enough to get to the top and back safely. Chara: Should?! Frisk: Thanks Alphys. Frisk hangs up the phone. Chara: You’re not really going to do that... are you? Frisk: Watch me. Frisk activates the boots and starts flying up. Mettaton is flying as well, his leg and wheel transformed into a rocket. He starts throwing out some eggs from a basket. Frisk takes a few seconds to get used to flying, but she quickly gets the hang of it and succeeds at dodging. Mettaton starts pouring flour down. Frisk gets covered by some of it, but she keeps going. She keeps flying up and dodges the milk Mettaton was pouring down. Mettaton uses everything he has against Frisk, but she skillfully dodges everything and finally reaches the top. MTT: MY MY. IT SEEMS YOU’VE BESTED ME. BUT ONLY BECAUSE YOU HAD THE HELP OF THE BRILLIANT DOCTOR ALPHYS! OH, I LOATHE TO THINK OF WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU WITHOUT HER!!! WELL, TOODLES!! All the cameras shut down, completing the show. MTT: GREAT PERFORMANCE SWEETIE. Mettaton gets ready to fly away, but Frisk calls him back Frisk: Wait! What about the cake? MTT: OH YES! ABOUT THE SUBSTITUTION... HAVEN’T YOU EVER SEEN A COOKING SHOW BEFORE? I ALREADY BAKED THE CAKE AHEAD OF TIME!!!!! SO FORGET IT!!! Mettaton flies away and Frisk slowly descends back to ground level. She gets a call from Alphys. Alphys: Wow! We... we did it!! We... we really did it!!! Great job out there, team! W-well, uh, anyway, let’s keep heading forward!!! Frisk moves on to the next area and finds a save point. An ominous structure looms in the distance. You’re filled with determination 01000110 01101001 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01100101 01100100 The Core shines, with its pure white metal and blue lights, creating light with the lava bellow. Ne arrives at Kris’ base. The two guards at the entrance walk up to him. “Identify yourself” Ne: Come on guys, doesn’t my look say enough. “For all we know, you could be an intruder in disguise.” Ne: Good point. Ne raises his hand, sending out harmless blue energy, writing a “WE OK NOW?” with it. “Yeah, that works, you can pass” Ne enters the base and asks the first person he finds where is Kris. The guard tells him that he is in his main room on top floor. Ne finds a nearby elevator and uses it to get to the top floor. he reaches the floor and exits the elevator. Finding Kris’ room wasn’t hard, since it is the most secured one, with a steel door that has fingerprint scanners, key card scanners, eye and voice check system and one key hole. Kris probably has the key needed to unlock that. Feeling to lazy to wait for anyone to unlock the door for him, Ne phase shifts through the key hole in the room. When he returns to his normal form, he notices Kris sitting behind a computer, a huge bulletproof glass wall behind him and finally, two guards aiming their guns at him, probably scared from him suddenly showing up. Ne: Heh. Guess I should have knocked first. Kris sighs. Kris: Put your guns down, you can leave us. Kris presses a button on his table that unlocks the door and the guards exit. The door closes behind them. Kris: You do realize that it’s rude that you just went through my last defense system like that. Ne: I like to think of it as a friendly advice on what you should fix. Kris: Whatever. What are you doing here? Ne: I have a favor to ask of you. Kris: Okay. What is it? Ne: With all of the chaos that’s happening around Computerworld, Sentinels are probably gonna try to take over the place. I am fast, but not fast enough to defend Computerworld and the rest of the city and I’m pretty sure that Frisk already went through the first half of the Computerworld. Kris: So you want the place secured? No problem. Ne: Thanks. Really appreciate it. Ne phase shifts back out the same way he entered the room and goes on the roof of the base. Kris turns around to look at the window, already assuming his exit route. Ne jumps from the roof, right in front of Kris’ room. Kris: Called it. Ne lands as softly as possibly, so the guards behind him don’t get as much surprised from his landing. He creates his bike and drives to Amy’s house. While he’s riding the bike, he opens his jacket and takes the reserve stripes he had hidden so that he doesn’t need to go to a locker just so he could cover up the plates and turns off the light on his helmet visor. In nearby alley, he turns the bike back into energy and absorbs it. After checking if he remembered to do everything, Ne walks the rest of the way to Amy’s house. When he reaches the house, he knocks on the door. Amy unlocks and opens the door. She’s wearing a gray T-shirt with text that says “Not lazy, just power saving” and blue sweatpants. Ne loves seeing her smile every time hen they meet outside of “work” Amy: Great timing, I could use your... skill. Ne: Okay? Amy lets him enter the house and closes the door behind him, locking it. Amy: I used all of the serums. Ne: Oh, alright, Where is it? Amy: With the rest of the gear, on the table in the living room. Ne goes to the living room and finds the vials on the table. He checks if all of them are there Ne: All ten of them. Good Amy follows him as he goes into the kitchen and fills every vial up with water, before adding some of his adaptation magic in them and closes them. Ne: Good as new. He hands her the vials and she returns them on the table. They both sit on the couch in the living room. Ne: Wait, when did you run out of them? Amy: I used the last one a few minutes ago. Ne: You had another soul-attack?! Why didn’t you call me? Amy: Well, you said that you would visit me and I still had one more vial. Ne: Yeah, but I still don’t know if they’ll always work. Me using them as your medicine was a lucky accident when that happened. Amy: Well it has been working so far, hasn’t it? Ne: No it hasn’t. They are only stabilizing you, but you aren’t getting healed. Amy: Well, maybe there is no healing it. Ne: There is. I just haven’t found it yet. Amy: It’s not your responsibility to take care of me. Ne: You need these because of me. I’m pretty sure that makes me responsible. Amy keeps quiet, having nothing else to say. Ne: ...I will cure you. Amy leans on his shoulder. Amy: I know. Prologue Chapter 12 Chapter 14

[getanattitude]

15 Weird Hobbies That'll Make You Better at best keyboard for learning piano

“THE more you dig into a bit of Ives, the greater pleasure you will get from it,” the pianist Jeremy Denk reported just lately, sitting at a piano within a rehearsal space for the Juilliard School. “It’s like fixing a puzzle.”

Then he enthusiastically deconstructed Ives’s “Concord” Sonata, untangling and describing the themes and motifs embedded in the complicated textures of this fascinating rating.

Mr. Denk is about to release a disc, “Jeremy Denk Plays Ives” (Assume Denk Media), featuring two piano sonatas, an esoteric selection of repertory for any debut solo album. But then, there's nothing generic concerning this adventurous musician. His vivacious intellect is manifest both equally in his actively playing and on his site, Consider Denk, an outlet for astute musical observations and witty musings, irrespective of whether a lament about inedible meatballs or even a spoof interview with Sarah Palin.

Mr. Denk will show his far more mainstream credentials when he performs Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. one with Charles Dutoit plus the Philadelphia Orchestra commencing on Thursday for the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia and on Oct. twelve at Carnegie Hall.

Mr. Denk argues that the Ives sonatas, composed early in the twentieth century, are mistakenly categorized as avant-garde performs as an alternative to “epic Passionate sonatas with Lisztian thematic transformations.” To your informal listener, the music that Mr. Denk describes inside the CD booklet as “good, inventive, tender, edgy, wild, primary, witty, haunting” can undoubtedly audio avant-garde. Ives, who built his living in the insurance plan organization, incorporated jazz, riffs on Beethoven and American hymns, marches and folk songs into his daringly experimental piano sonatas, rich in polytonality, thematic layering and rhythmic complexity.

“It’s so beautifully in-your-experience,” Mr. Denk reported, demonstrating a particularly maniacal passage in the “Concord” Sonata. “It’s also fairly incredibly unsightly. There is something maddening about his humorousness. Ives is constantly thumbing his nose at you in a means.”

But Mr. Denk suggests that Ives’s tenderness, which he illuminates beautifully in this recording, is underappreciated. “Ives is often about points recalled,” he reported, “or Recollections or visions fetched from some complicated spot.”

He performed the harmonically misty passages in the second movement from the “Concord,” wherever Ives directs that a piece of wood be pressed over the upper keys to generate a cluster chord. “It doesn’t experience gimmicky in the least to me,” Mr. Denk stated. “It’s all blues in the bottom. Ives realized the best way to use People little clichéd bits of Americana in a method that all of a sudden receives your gut. It is possible to’t consider how touching it really is.”

Mr. Denk, forty, continues to be keen about Ives due to the fact his undergraduate days at Oberlin in Ohio, wherever he carried a double important in piano overall performance and chemistry. “My total double diploma knowledge was to some degree of the constant freakout of one style of An additional,” he explained.

He had been a “genuinely nerdy high school university student” with a constrained social existence, he stated. “Ever considering that I used to be A child I desired to check out Oberlin and desired the liberal arts. Definitely I really get intense satisfaction out of drawing connections involving pieces and poems and literature and ideas.”

Mr. Denk explained himself for a “practice maniac,” but his horizons have extended much outside of the exercise place because Oberlin. Although nibbling an unlimited piece of chocolate cream pie at an Upper West Facet diner near the condominium he has rented given that around 1999, Mr. Denk referred to his website, calling it “an surprisingly superior outlet to launch tensions of 1 sort or An additional.” He stated it had drawn new listeners to his concert events. An avid reader of liberal political weblogs, Mr. Denk goals of writing a classical audio Variation of Wonkette, he said, but that would be difficult to do without the need of offending men and women. And he attempts to stay clear of offending individuals, he added, however he did not too long ago post a rant about method notes.

Mr. Denk, who calls himself “a true Francophile,” is tender-spoken but rigorous, his dialogue peppered with references to numerous “obsessions”: espresso, Ives, Bach, Proust, Baudelaire and Emerson.

He went off on “a Balzac mania” a few years back, he stated.

“That was a perilous time, and almost everything in life appeared drawn from a Balzac novel,” he additional. “I shed about three decades of my life to Proust. I’m confident it changed almost everything, which includes my enjoying.

“In the future my manager was like, ‘Dude, You need to center on your career and acquiring your stuff collectively.’ ” At that time, Mr. Denk said, “I had been bringing Proust to meetings.” He added: “I’m not sure I actually experienced a profession route. I had been just doing my weird thing, which most likely appeared like a disastrous nonroute to a lot of the folks who ended up watching more than me. I don't forget some exasperated conferences with my administration, However they had been extremely patient and devoted, which I’m insanely grateful for.”

Mr. Denk grew up in Las Cruces, N.M., considered one of two brothers, a son of songs-loving nonmusician mothers and fathers. His father, who may have a doctorate in chemistry, is (at different instances) a Roman Catholic monk plus a director of Personal computer science at New Mexico State College.

Mr. Denk remains addicted to the chili peppers of Las Cruces, he stated, seemingly only fifty percent joking: “The red along with the eco-friendly and The full spirituality of chili peppers. It’s even now a big A part of my everyday living. Once i go house I visit this serious dive and obsess more than their green meat burrito.”

When not on tour, Mr. Denk spends time together with his boyfriend, Patrick Posey, a saxophonist as well as director of orchestral functions and scheduling at Juilliard, where Mr. Denk received his doctorate, studying with Herbert Stessin. Mr. Stessin remembers having been amazed by “the maturity and depth” of Mr. Denk’s actively playing and remembers him as “a unprecedented scholar who absorbed items pretty rapidly.”

Mr. Denk said he “was in school eternally” until eventually “in some unspecified time in the future I made a decision to rely on my very own instincts.” Now he teaches double-diploma undergraduates with the Bard School Conservatory of New music. The pianist Allegra Chapman, who examined with him, said he was “concerned with a great deal greater than the notes to the webpage, always bringing up literary and historical references.”

“Now I attempt to method tunes in a additional holistic point of view,” she included. “He is very passionate. He accustomed to leap throughout the room and bounce about and wave his arms. It was genuinely pleasurable. He attempted to get me to think about the new music with a sense of humor.”

This combination of passion, humor and intellect, so vivid in both equally Mr. Denk’s taking part in and his composing, is exactly what distinguishes him, based on the violinist Joshua Bell. The 2 are actually regular duo associates considering the fact that 2004, when they performed at the Spoleto Festival United states.

“You get the intellectual musicians or people that don their heart on their own sleeve with no wide range of musical assumed,” Mr. Bell explained, “but Jeremy manages to accomplish both equally, and that’s best. Now we have an abundance of arguments in rehearsal, that's the pleasurable portion in addition. The fact we don’t usually see eye to eye retains factors refreshing and would make me issue anything I do.”

Mr. Bell, whose choices of repertory tend to be far more regular than Individuals of his much more adventurous colleague, reported he wasn’t normally an Ives supporter: “That has a good deal of recent audio I’m somewhat cautious. Despite Ives, right until I read Jeremy. He just provides it alive. He has these kinds of an awesome imagination, and nothing at all is done randomly.”

Ives’s piano sonatas, Mr. Denk explained, “are in a way like animals that don’t want to be tamed.”

“Just about every functionality should be so various,” he additional, a single explanation he was originally hesitant to report them. Like Bach, he reported, Ives leaves quite a bit towards the performer’s creativity.

A wonderful interpretation of your “Goldberg” Variations at Symphony House in 2008 uncovered Mr. Denk’s profound affinity with Bach. Mr. Denk will complete the perform and Guides one and a pair of of Ligeti’s Études at Zankel Corridor on Feb. sixteen.

To maintain the “Goldberg” Variants fresh new, Mr. Denk is incorporating new fingerings, he reported, “to reactivate the relationship in between my brain and my fingers when I’m playing it.”

“I think it’s an actual magical area When you've got the muscle memory,” he additional, “though the Mind is in advance in the fingers.”

Altering the fingerings is one method to stay clear of routine, he reported. “I get real enjoyment outside of crafting in an extremely excellent fingering. It's like relearning the piece, and it makes you not just take any Observe without any consideration.”

The musical philosophy Mr. Denk relates to Bach, Ives together with other repertory is probably most effective summed up in that site put up on application notes: “I’ve never ever been an enormous admirer on the ‘Think about how revolutionary this piece was when it was prepared’ faculty of inspiration. For my dollars, it ought to be groundbreaking now. (And it is actually.) Whichever else the composer may have intended, he / she didn’t want you to Feel, ‘Boy, that should are already interesting again then.’ The most basic compositional intent, absolutely the ur-intent, is you Enjoy it now, you help it become happen now.”

[mentalvapors]

Kevin Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Back at it again. Geez, when I started my tumblr (back in 2014 I think) I had the intention to update it regularly, every week maybe. But I lost track of it, like already one week after I started it. I feel bad for not updating it. One of my biggest regrets in life is probably that I never had a diary, because my memory just keeps getting worse and worse at the moment, and when I talk to people they are able recall so many thing from their past and I don't even know how to do simple math I learned in 4th grade. I cannot remember a single event from 4th grade or elementary school in general.

Okay this is just me thinking things right now, but I also feel like the reason why I never had a diary or never bothered to write blog entries is because I'm not a creative writer. And I'm not smart and I have no skills whatsoever and it's even worse when I write English sentences. And some people actually have personality and talent to make the most trivial things sound interesting. And I just feel like a brain dead person slamming my phalanges furiously on a keyboard. But should I feel bad about it? Pretty much everyone shares their opinions on thoughts about everything on the internet nowadays. I should not care about how bland I sound to other people.

I really wanted to gather some thoughts why university didn't work out for me. I feel like I never … I tried to think about the reason why I failed, but most of the time I was in sad mode and blamed myself for everything, which always ended in a result that was not authentic to the truth and therefor not downright acceptable. And so I  never came to a real conclusion. I will try to think about it now, because I don't feel too depressed, so it should be fine, right? Right?

So first of all, going to university was mistake to begin with. It could have worked out, but the circumstances at that time were not optimal. In fact they were terrible. So it was kind of foolish to think I could pull that off, but there was also nobody who convinced me I couldn't.

A huge factor that made it hard for me to survive university was that every semester I felt some kind of anxiety because I didn’t know what was going to happen. Grades, classes, other students and just choosing things was very overwhelming. Very, very overwhelming. On some days I was just crying like the whole day, because I didn’t know what actually happens when I’m done with university. How to move on? I’ve always been a directionless wanderer, who didn’t know what he wanted to do in life. I just started university and it already felt pointless, like it would go nowhere and nevertheless I was moving on. One year passed, two years, three... and nothing changed. I collected a lot of credits (oh well... not enough for my creditors though) and still I couldn't figure out “why am I doing this?”.

My major was area studies and I wasn’t really enjoying it. I just felt lost and once again overwhelmed. This whole course of studies was missing a clear structure. Which was also the point of it: “Just go ahead and choose the things you have the most interest in”, like that kind of decree completely works against my own nature. I desperately need someone to tell me what to do. So helplessly I chose the most nonsense courses I could find. I signed up for Japanese class and it was so hard. The first semester examination I got only a fourteen, oops. I literally struggled so bad and nearly getting nothing accomplished the whole year and that’s why I ended up dropping that course and felt really bad. But I wanted to try it again, so I took the next semester very very light with only two classes, so of course that extended my university existence by some time. So many frustrating things happened during that time and to my minor, which was agricultural sciences. The readings ended up being not what I was looking for and the schedule really worked against my major.

Also some of the professors were really strict and set up their individual rules. For instance the Japanese teacher was incredibly strict. You could not miss her lessons and you could not be late. And at this time I really struggled with depression and I was crying and begging this woman I was like „I love this class, I’m trying so hard, please give me another chance next year“ and she said that it was OK and that I can be part of the class again, but a year later she was like „I changed my mind, get out“ and that was the point, where I started to give up and stopped trying, like, at all. But sometimes I would get a professor that I like and I would only have them for one semester, a lot of times I tried to take multiple classes with that person if the subject fulfilled credits for the same requirement, even though the class would not help to get a clear structure in my major. Like I took a lot of Mongolian classes. How would that help me with my Japanese Major? I don't know.

In addition I didn’t have an easy time making friends there. That’s another thing that can kinda be frustrating about university life to me. You see a lot of people who take one or two classes that you take as well and you kinda never see the same people. You develop relationships with people that are in the same class but after the semester; they’re gone. That was a big hurdle for me to jump through. I did not get used to it and I didn’t kinda like how everything felt so temporary.

None of the people I had contact with in my Japanese course did graduate by the way. All of them are still stuck somewhere. Some of them still have to pass Japanese class I (out of IV) and it has been four years since we signed up for it. Ideally you should be done with the whole thing in three years. So probably even if I managed to finish all of my major and minor courses, I would not be done with Japanese class yet, cause it's so damn hard and my creditor would get mad at me and I had cancel university either way.

So I was clueless and not doing very well and the worst part was probably that there is a lot of pressure in society (and creditors, student loan companies etc.) where they tell you „Okay you have to graduate from university in three years. Do it right. Know exactly what you want!“ and for a lot of people, including myself, this is not a realistic goal. It’s just not easy. I think it’s realistic if you fail something. I think perfection and expectation of perfection in society is really bizarre. The other thing I realized during this time was, unlike you’re going to be a doctor or a lawyer or in that sort of profession, you get a university degree and that’s awesome but how much practically do you use that degree? I wish I would have chosen something like business studies, because I think … just having more of an understanding of topics like that, would have been helpful throughout my life, especially more than the area studies.

So these are some aspects that turned university into my personal nightmare, but the truth or a big part of it is, that university just felt inconvenient. I'm a lazy piece of shit; I never felt the need to study for any exam, but spoiler: in university you won't survive without it. You need to know how to study. Studying is actually a skill, I didn't know that, now I learned the hard way.

So all I have for now is my shattered university past, a scary student loan debt mountain haunting me every night and also no job. Unemployed for over a year now. I don't know if this will ever change. The worst part of it is I feel like I'm not doing enough to get out of this misery. In fact I do nothing. I want to change but like 90% of my time I have no faith and feel hopeless and that nothing will ever work out for me.

I need to get a whole load of things off my chest first in order to move one. Also I need to find the English setting for my good friend OpenOffice because right now everything is red underlined and it's low key driving me crazy. (…) All right, I found it. Also I'm not gonna grammar correct or spellcheck anything. It's just lines I write down to remind myself of a few things and I have to get this all out before I forget it. So screw editing it!

The last few days I started to do shit I usually hate doing. It's not like I'm a messy person, but cleaning my room felt suddenly more important than ever before. I also stitched up my curtains, even though I was okay with them being way too long for years. And I built two shelves, because we had a few old planks in our yard and my walls were so empty, they felt like prison cell walls to me, so I thought “yes of course SHELVES”. They look fantastic and I'm proud of myself because I made something useful, but they remind my that I spend my time not the way I'm supposed to. They make me feel bad every time I look at them and I look at them a lot, cause they're hanging on my wall.

Yesterday I set up autumn decorations even though it is kinda too early. I also already did some of the Halloween decorations. I always get into a spooky mood, as soon as the weather gets colder, because it feels like authentically fall. I have to wear sweaters or long sleeves because I'm so cold all the time.

Also I found a keyboard in the room of the guy that lived with us, but who is dead now and I remembered how I have always wanted to learn to play piano. But I don't know if I would be very good at it. I feel like the older I get the less focus I have with things. And I also feel just like I don't ever really sit down and like do anything.

Anyway, the dead guy's name was Lutz and he died in April because of cancer. He and my mom shared the rent for the house we live in, so fifty percent of the rent fee is missing since he died. Our landlord is really mad, because he wants the money from us now and we do not have it and Lutz's family doesn't want to pay off his debts either. It's a pretty dire situation and my mom's lawyer sucks and gradually makes our dilemma worse and worse and she doesn't realize it. I don't know what comes next, my mom never talks about these things and a part of me also doesn't want to know. I'm dealing with a lot of things myself and I wish I could close my eyes and vanish from the surface of this planet forever. Just like the Avatar did. The cool one, not that James Cameron Pocahontas plagiarism. But I'm afraid this is not how it works. Suicide would be an option. But I'm just too much of a coward.

To give up or to not give up on life. Fighting the desire to just lie down and die gets harder each day. It already has been hard for a long time now. I know people get homeless. Maybe I am in that exact position right now. I never thought about it. But maybe there is a high chance that it'll happen to me next, unless I do something, even if it already might be too late. I know I can't change the mind of my mom, she will stay here, in this building, until she gets thrown out under legal authority. And I knew about this since a long time and I definitely already could have done something about it as well, like trying harder to find a new place and job, but … depression … and I chose not to. That's just the reality situation.

But I really need to get on with looking for a job now (the hardest thing though is to overcome my “little” procrastination thing whenever I'm about to do it). Two years of therapy gave me enough time to reflect and figure out what I possibly could do and maybe I really can do two or three things, besides lying in bed all day. The biggest issue right now is my low self-esteem. If you never had a real job in your whole life, you will obviously have a hard time to believe in your own abilities. This is what I got criticized for when I worked as Concierge last summer “Sorry, you're too insecure about your actions” and at job interviews I get told “You don't really convince me that you want this job”. And yeah how can I convince anyone I'm able to do something I never did before without straight up lying to their face? I guess if I want to apply for job, I need to put on a mask made of confidence and lies.

My psychiatrist once told me, that my only chance to get a job is social connections (his social connections). I already talked about how I became “friends” with my therapist some time ago. His intentions didn't feel honest to me and everyone else saw this, like, big red flag and yelled at me, to give up on this attachment, but I am weak and I don't have anyone else I can talk to. I gave him another chance and he invited me and said that we should travel to Thailand together. And I was against it, honestly, like from the beginning. But you know, he is a manipulative piece of shit and I really wanted to see Thailand, because I probably wouldn't get another chance like this, in my whole life. So I thought: how horrible can it be to fly to Thailand for two weeks, with your psychiatrist? Turns out it can be pretty horrible. He was watching me all the time, he was watching what I was eating, when I was messaging on Whatsapp. I never had two minutes for myself, he even came into the bathroom while I was changing, he was telling me what to do, when to cross the street, he dictated absolutely everything. So on day three I called him out and he said “Okay then let's fly back home” and of course I know he wanted me to beg him to stay here and that I would do better and follow his orders, cause he pays for everything. But I said “Fine, let's fly back home” and we walked to the travel agency in Thailand and the lady at the counter said a ticket back home today would be around 8,000$ each. He told the lady that we need to talk and would come back in an hour, if we still consider to book the tickets, but I didn't want to take anymore of his crap. So he had to book the tickets and I didn't talk to him the whole 24 hours we needed to get back to Germany, he tried to discuss this situation the whole time, even tried to convince me to travel with him again; this time to the Netherlands for the weekend because “It'll work out better than Thailand”. There is so much more stuff that happened, but I'm not going to elaborate more, at this point I'm so tired of all of this. I'm just glad I finally wrote it down and decided that this friendship was not good for me. Better late than never.

Oh and the worst part is, I also feel like I didn't make any progress in this two years of therapy. I didn't achieve anything, I just wasted time. I'm so annoyed and mad at myself.

All that stress I had the last few months or maybe years and the frustration and the anger I feel every day, caused my autoimmune disease to flare up again.

Short backstory: I noticed a bald patch in my beard area in 2015 and one year later it spread on my head and it was just awful. I had the worst time back then, my dog died, my relationship went to shit, I lost my job as Concierge, I felt like university was going nowhere and my hair started to fall out and it was not a cute look. I had a plum sized spot on the left side, the right side and on top of my head and two spots that molted into one big spot at the back. I went to a dermatologist, he said it's called Alopecia Areata and he told me to put some ointment on it and I did. But nothing changed. I was really desperate, I had a mental break down, including ugly crying in the shower, shaving my head, mental hospital, the whole program. I had a hard time to accept the “bald truth”.

On Youtube I found a channel, run by a girl named Stella, who made several videos about her struggle with Alopecia Areata (she wasn't the only one btw, but she was the first one who seemed genuine and did not try to sell some fake products. There are so many people on the internet, who use other people’s desperation to make themselves richer, it's crazy). In one of her videos she described how she overcame this disease with the help of the AIP diet and I was so amazed. She had all of her hair back and the solution is a diet? I was crying my eyes out for month and it's that simple? Sign me up I thought as I looked a few things up on the internet and basically AIP diet means just allowed to eat warm water. Doesn't actually matter if it's warm or not. No, but seriously almost every food is forbidden on AIP. No bread, rice, potatoes, eggs, diary, sugar, tomatoes, nuts, alcohol, fruits, nothing. All you can eat is meat and green stuff. I started in November and it was exhausting from the beginning. I felt hungry all the time and was craving for something sweet. It's funny how I can go without sugar right now for days, but when you're not allowed to have it, it's all you want. But I was missing coffee the most.

Anyway, after one month of AIP I recognized some white hair on my left patch, and a week later a few pigmented hairs. On Christmas all of my patches had small pigmented hairs growing in (except my beard, which is only thin white hairs until today) and I'm having the worst grammar right now. It's 1 a.m. Anyway during that time I felt amazing, the bald patches were still recognizable, but I felt relieved that my hair came back and I wouldn't go bald.

By march I had all my hair back and I gave a lot of credit to the diet, but also stopped the diet the same month, because although I got all my hair back, I realized that I could not live with all these restrictions forever. The AIP diet was not designed for people with AA. It was made to figure out what kind of food causes your inflammatory, but it's impossible to tell when you have AA. You can't take a bite of a tomato and be like “Oh yeah I feel it, this makes my hair fall out”. Even though a lot people in these self help groups write things like “Oh. My. Gosh. I was just drinking a cup of milk and suddenly my whole scalp was itchy”. Yeah girl, because you wanted it to be itchy. You are desperate and want to find the cause and you want it to stop. And all of this happens, even if your are not aware of it. And blaming certain kinds of food is easy, but dumb. It worked for me, but just because I thought it does. For 4 months I ate vegetables and meat on max, because Stella said it helped, she had proof and I saw it, so I thought it would help me too.

April was again a really hard time for me. My therapist was playing games, my family stressed me out, Lutz died, still no job, my personal financial crisis. And then one day I felt a smooth spot behind my right ear as I was sitting in a train and I was like “Oh god, please no, god no no no no no...”. . I recognized a tiny spot at the back of my head before, but I was hoping it was nothing, I didn't want it to be true, now with a second patch I realized Alopecia is back to haunt me.But this time I wanted it to be different. I would not let it take control of my actions again. So I made an appointment at a hairdresser and I was surprised he never heard of AA before as I told him what was going on on my head. As he was shaving the back of my head he pointed out that there actually a few more spots than expected. I accepted it. There's nothing I can do about anyway.

I revisited Stella's Youtube channel and she posted a video update. Her Alopecia came back as well, even though she was still following the AIP diet. So there was no doubt left, that the diet had little to do with the regrowth of my hair. Stella's video and her blog was again so inspirational.

The cure for Alopecia is: there is no cure. It's your emotions. It's sadness, it's anger and stress. This is easy and hard to accept at the same time. I'm still not a hundred percent sure if I can accept this as the one truth. At the moment all of the spots are on the backside of my head, which is good. I mean they are there; but at least I can't see them. The one behind my right ear is as big as my ear right now. And it worries me tbh. Last year I documented the progress of the spots and took pictures every week. Because I was so excited to see my hair grow and I wanted to see the proof that it really happens. I don't know if I should do this again. Stella said the best way to deal with this situation is simply “to not give a shit”.

And that might be true. But I know, currently it is impossible for me to reach this peace of mind. Everything's a mess right now and I feel like I can't do life and no matter how less I care about my hair, bald spots will spread nevertheless. I have to change my environment first, before I can move on mentally. And this will be frustrating. Searching for a job, having job interviews with bald spots all over my head, probably getting rejected because of it, getting more bald spots, it will be hell but I guess... it is what it is.

It's hard when you’re in a dark place and when your family sucks, and you're like in that mind set where everything is awful. Just taking that one little step up uphill is the hardest part. Maybe writing all of this down finally is a sign that I wildly succeeded and that I can keep going. Or maybe it was just another reason for me to procrastinate again. Who knows?

Well I wish I could end this post on a high note. It's 3am right now and  there was an episode of “Married... with children” on TV and it was about Kelly being the first female Bundy with a job and she worked at a diner. They made it look like being a waitress is the easiest thing in the world, but Kelly was totally overwhelmed by everything and it was just too real. Too relatable. On her first day as a waitress “Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves” was playing in the background and I will remember this on my first day of work and it'll empower me to try my best, like Kelly Bundy did. You know, be the best Kelly Bundy you can be.

[randylavalley]

VISITING THE CN TOWER IN TORONTO

The CN Tower is a tall and impressive tower and a landmark in Toronto, Canada and visiting this popular attraction is definitely one of those “must-do” items on your list when you travel to Toronto.

Although I tend to prefer exploring offbeat places and neighbourhoods when I travel, I still do enjoy finding a balance between getting off the beaten path while still checking out at least one main attraction at my destination. I have always wanted to see the views from the top of the CN Tower, so when I traveled to Toronto last month I made sure to add the tower to my itinerary.

I visited the CN Tower during my solo travels to Toronto in April 2016 on a lovely Sunday morning.

Getting There and Away – Transportation to and From the CN Tower

I had been staying at the Planet Traveler Hostel (click on the link to read my full review of the hostel) near Toronto’s Kensington Market (click on the link to read my detailed guide to this amazing neighbourhood) and Little Italy neighbourhoods, and I took the 510 South streetcar from Spadina and College Streets to Spadina and Bremner (the journey took around 10 minutes), where I then walked about 7 minutes to get to the tower.

The tower is easily accessible via subway and streetcars from wherever you may be staying in Toronto. You can check the schedules for the Toronto Transit Commission by clicking here.

The Union Station (subway) is located at 65 Front Street West, between Bay and York Streets and is only about a  10 minute walk to/from the CN Tower. The nearest streetcars run along Spadina Avenue (north to south), King Street West (east to west) and Queen Street West (east to west).

Visiting the CN Tower

I arrived at the tower at around 9:30 am on a Sunday morning. There was a sea of people dressed in blue and white waiting in long lines everywhere in the area for the Toronto Blue Jays baseball game later that afternoon, however the tower didn’t appear to be attracting too many crowds, which was a good thing for me! I walked to the base of the tower and looked way up. It was an incredibly tall structure and this view provided some great photo opportunities. I only wished that I had a wider lens for my camera, as I was almost falling backwards trying to get the entire tower in my photo! The fact that humans built such a tall tower was definitely impressive.

I entered at the base of the tower and waited in a short line, walked through a metal detector and had my backpack checked, and then proceeded to the front desk to purchase my ticket. I paid $40 CAD for the regular general admission ticket, which allowed me access to the Look Out, Sky Terrace and the Glass Floor. The entrance fee definitely seemed a bit overpriced, but since the CN Tower was the only attraction that I actually paid to visit during my travels in Toronto, it felt a little better about spending the money for this experience. There was also the option of paying extra money in order to take the elevator even higher to the SkyPod or participate in the Edge Walk on the outside of the tower. I opted to not to do this as I just wanted to enjoy the views from the top.

I waited along with a handful of other people by the elevators for only a couple of minutes before it opened up and a staff member ushered us inside. The staff member told us some quick facts about the height of the tower as the elevator rose very fast up to the top of the tower. The front portion of the elevator was glass and it tickled my stomach to watch us getting higher and higher and my ears were popping! The elevator ride to the top took around a minute and a half but it felt much longer.

The elevator then opened up to the Look-Out level which consisted of a large circular carpeted area with large windows around the perimeter overlooking the city. There was also an fancy looking restaurant on this level, which I didn’t eat at.

There was only a handful of other people at the tower during my visit, which was great and made for a peaceful and relaxed atmosphere! I wandered over to the large windows to check out the amazing panoramic views of the sprawling city around the tower. I could see so far and it looked like the city was neverending! I could see the Toronto Islands and Lake Ontario as well, which was cool. I enjoyed admiring and photographing the views.

From the Look-Out area, I climbed down a small set of stairs to the level below it, where the well-known Glass Floor was located. The glass floor itself was smaller than I had been expecting, but it was still a cool and unique experience. There were a few small groups of people there, although definitely not busy which I loved! I found it amusing to watch other peoples’ reactions to stepping on the floor! Some people appeared terrified and they refused to even step foot on the floor and others were laying face down across the entire glass while also jumping up and down on it. It was funny to see the two extremes!

Surprisingly, stepping on and walking across the glass floor didn’t scare me as much as I thought it would and I had no problems in doing so (there were quite a few scratches on the floor, so it didn’t look completely like glass). When I looked down at my feet at the view though and realized how high up I was, it definitely tickled my stomach!

After checking out the Glass Floor, I walked outside to the Sky Terrace, which was an outdoor walkway that encircled the tower with mesh netting around it. The netting made it difficult to take photos, but it was an enjoyable experience to walk around the outside of the tower and get some fresh air and a light breeze while taking in the views.

I then rode the elevator back down to the base of the tower, watching the scenery from the glass portion as my ears popped the entire way down.

In total, I spent around 45 minutes to an hour admiring and photographing the views from the top of the tower.

Overall, visiting the CN Tower was a fantastic experience and the views from the top were worth it. Yes, this is a “touristy” thing to do in Toronto, but I believe that certain popular attractions are still worthy of checking out and the CN Tower is one of them. You can largely beat the crowds of people if you arrive early in the morning to the tower. If you are traveling to Toronto, I highly recommend checking out this incredible Canadian landmark!

During my four days in Toronto, I stayed at the Planet Traveler Hostel and below are some photos of the incredible views of the CN Tower and downtown Toronto skyline from their amazing rooftop patio.

The post “ VISITING THE CN TOWER IN TORONTO “ was seen first on Brittany’s Adventures

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[aestheticvoyage2017]

Day 123: Wednesday May 3, 2017 - “Time Hop”

Time Hop pulled me in today, reminding me of where I was just 3 years ago and how AC and I have built a life together since.  3 years ago, I was crossing Mexico down at Big Bend and then driving out to White Sands and on to Tucson.  I was 2 days away from meeting Audrie and had no idea. That first convo from that first night on Cinco De Mayo 2014 hangs on our fridge; she having the foresight to screenshot our first flirts and she, to a rambler, citing her own travel vibe and self expressed awesomeness, and my own admittance of attraction being my first words, beating hello.  That faithful right-swipe. She reached out first  - I suppose this whole great affair is her fault.  From the Hi there, to twisting my arm to meet for drinks, to saying "Keep going!”  And here we went - two mad burning alive people smashing into each other in the desert.   Sounds cool to me. 

“Humbling finally looking into the face of the person that had kept that healthy tension in my life for so long.”  

 Equally as humbling looking up and across the couch at that face still sticking with me and to know that I knew and had the brass to write it down just that way.

Listening to ACL tonight I pulled out my logbook from the Grand Ramble and read aloud those pages from a few days before, on through that first electric 2 weeks of our love affair.   Neat, realizing that I was writing all that and then here we’d be together 3 years later reading it back, overlaid with the delicate nostalgia of all we’ve created since that first week that culminated in “I Love You”  -  Amazing seeing how fast it happened and then here we are together in the pace of life....how much things havent changed, while so much has.  Ive always loved to spin a good story, but absolutely no story makes me happier to tell than this one -  our love story.   Reflection reminding us of the chops we’ve forgotten.  To read it in my own authentic words from back then, and to remember the excitement.  It was a fun night to reminisce together.   Early May, when I drove into the Old Pueblo.  Thats our anniversary.  Celebration of love at first sight,  of knowing it, of setting intentions, getting all-in fast, and to build and persist and figure it out.  We laid in bed and she read from her journal.  The prize of having written it down to echo back and remind us of how special our “we” is.  Someday soon I’ll marry her, just like I said I would in my logbook back then, and I look forward to sharing this reminiscence with everyone there.

Song: John Legend - All Of Me

Quote: “Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not writing, as the spirit moved me. It was, instead, running madly, in a crowded schedule, in a squirrel cage of busy people. Working, living, dancing, dreaming, talking, kissing- singing, laughing, learning.” ― Sylvia Plath

[scarlett-carson]

Its funny, but not in a HA HA HA kind of way

things have been...all over the godsdamn place of late ive been busy ive been broken ive been, a bit under construction of late. there was a bit of a phoenixing going on behind the scenes and maybe not everyone knew it. or maybe they did and i am not as lowkey as i fancy myself to be sometimes. there was a bit of a semi-public accidental crash recently, so... it doesnt matter. no, i mean it totally matters but thats...not the point of this recently, i went on vacation. there was a road trip with my sister and it was all kinds of things. it was, above all....FUCKING NECESSARY but. to the point of this post:: we were driving back from a week in daytona and it was the middle of the night and we were talking about things and stuff and nonsense and serious stuff and bullshit and like...everything...because that is kind of this thing that we do sometimes and shes had kind of a rough go in her own way and i think we both sort of needed a quality 3am talk about what one wants to do when they realize they dont have to camp out at rock bottom anymore and that there are options beyond "idk, just not die i guess" and in all of the talk about all of the things, she asked me why i stopped writing. (because she is a cunt and kind of a sadist) i dont have an answer for that i have a list of like...bullshit excuses for why i dont write depression lack of focus nothing to say impostor syndrome "i cant i have rehearsal" etc etc etc but i didnt have an ANSWER in that moment but i did tell her that recently, id been thinking a whole lot about how i miss doing slam and spoken word. that even if i dont have the stamina to write longform anything, doesnt mean i dont have things to say and that maybe it would be a way to get my legs back under me but i dont know because its been a really REALLY long time and what if i dont know how anymore and the rules have changed and like nothing i have to say is interesting to anyone else or like what if there is something i feel deep all the way into my marrow, but like someone else can say it better? this bitch has the audacity to pull over to the side of the road. like in the middle of fucking NOWHERE mountainsville, kentucky or wherever the fuck we were...and goes "so, its funny you should mention THAT. its funny, but not in a HA HA HA kind of way. i have to show you this thing. but its going to kick you in the face. long dramatic pause, because she knows just a little bit too much about my life possibly twice" ...and then shows me the following spoken word piece on her spotify playlist: ~~~~~~~ **We never promised each other much, we were always just kind of touch and go. as if we knew we'd know that somehow we'd grow differently. so we did and we do and none of this is to say that it wasn't worth going through or that i care any less about you. shoulders to lean on are hard to come by. I know because there were times I would have broken my own neck just so that I'd have one of my own to cry on. And I remember when each finger was a pawn moving slowly across the chessboard of your body and we made each game last. Passed up each avenue of attack because neither one of us were trying to win So how do we begin again when that feels like now and this feels like then? When all I can do is tell you "if you've got something that needs saying, tonight I'm paying dues." I've got a pocket full of blues and two pennies to rub together Which means I'm wealthy enough that I can finally afford to pay attention. I'm listening. And I know right now I'm somehow like that kid sitting in math class, terribly aware of his first boner. It's hard. But difficulty has never been a good enough reason to describe the effort it takes to make the good times and the memories worth having. And they were and they are and I wouldn't have come this far if you weren't worth the sleepless nights where abandoned appetites of a heart, now rail-thin, because of the constant hunger strikes. In your absence, I'm finding value, because what starves you carves you, and I'm chipping away the rough edges of a statue built to memorialize everything we've been through. And when I'm done, I'm gonna set it against the backdrop of the sun and stare just no matter where I go, it'll always be etched into the back of my mind, stenciled in behind whatever future I have left to find. Maybe we were never meant to last. Maybe we're only meant to reflect fondly upon a past where we cast ourselves in the lead role of a one-year sitcom. One that had the critics standing, while putting hand to palm, in an ovation we're still getting curtain calls for. And the stage floor was a graveyard for the freshly cut roses that we waded through to take our bows and say thank you. It was beautiful. And it was and it is and none of it was ever show-biz. But we were waiting for lights to dim on a stage where we set ourselves to music. As if the swelling violins could ever mimic the hidden moments found in the theatre where we kept audiences stapled to their seats. And they watched us, looking for vacancies they could occupy in the spaces between our heartbeats, as if silence was a room for rent, and we both went "shh." But the beats themselves: they were loud enough to drown out the applause. And we laughed at the ushers left looking in the aisles for the dropped jaws of patrons who still can't believe we took time to find beauty in the flaws we possess. That there's only something better to be found in allowing our collective damage to coalesce. And all we confess of ourselves forever is that we will make it through this. We're gonna make it through this, like a big-ass jug of kool-aid with legs and arms busting through a brick wall to quench the thirst of our loneliness and say "fuck yeah." Yes, I miss you. When I'm not looking, the softest parts of me will issue restraining orders. Not the kind that define borders or boundaries; these are the kind that will keep me in place when I ask "please, call me when you get there." Because every somewhere I go to, is just another place that reminds me I miss you. And my broken heart is where I keep the scar-tissue that I used to dry my eyes when a tear tries to make a break for it. I've built my eyelids into an Alcatraz, where every prisoner has a parole board meeting scheduled for yesterday. And they played dominoes until time comes full circle, like a sunrise, and today tries to set them free because they'll be locked up here until I let them go, until it's safe to let you know you're my best friend. And that some things end so that other things can begin. Sometimes an ending can be an origin. That history is a resin that can keep two people stuck together, that change can be a tether if you let it. I'll always want to kiss you. Or touch you. Or do that thing that drives you crazy. And by that, I mean you literally go crazy when I call you "cranky pants." Sorry, but it makes me laugh. And that's important to someone who's given more than half of their life to tragedy. I keep your side of the bed empty with a just-in-case mentality of that hope's middle name is maybe and maybe you miss me too. One day, you and I are going to make it through this. And we'll look back and we'll realize that we have, and we did, promise. PROMISE--shane koyczan** ~~~~~ go ahead and take a minute take all the time you need because i needed fucking 20 minutes and i am pretty sure i stopped breathing we sat there in dead silence at almost 4 am on a dark as mountain road and she just held my hand while silent tears fell out of my stupid fucking face. because, like she knew she would be... she was not wrong. she was so very very not wrong. i got back to chicago on monday i have spent the last few days (still not writing) debating like...what to do with this. do i post it on Other Social Media? do i text a youtube link? do i tag everyone who crossed my mind as i listened to it the first time? (for the record, it is probably exactly who you expect, AND...other people you wouldnt so, there's been some unpacking too like "why them, though") do i sit in the corner of my shower and just cry about it for a while until it shifts from "pathetic" to "cathardic" and do i even remember where that line IS anymore? and like...sure i could direct send it but would they even read it? would they get it? would they understand? ...does it fucking matter what they think? and in all of the debating and unpacking i realized one thing: not really, no. things that resonate with ME, wont always register with Person X--certainly not always in the same way--and like...that is kind of okay, actually they dont have to get it its not for them its my thing other people will think its pretty cool, though and i can show them and those people will get excited...it only becomes problematic when Person X disregards that it resonates at all that is a dick move and like...if i, as a person. as a fucking force with which to be reckoned...resonate with so many people WHY should i keep trying to share that resonance with people who just kind of "meh" about it when i could just show it to the other people who think its pretty cool. so fuck it i will put it here and people can see it and they can think that its pretty cool or "meh" and thats ok but i should probably stop being my own Problematic Person X...

[fishbians]

learning to actually enjoy food again is a process but!

ig im making this post partly for archival reasons, and partly because i think it might help other people in similar (?) situations to me

fall 2018 - may 2019 was an extremely hard time for me. my girlfriend of 1.5 years broke up with me, i was in college about to go to an international conference with what felt like nothing to present, and i realized i had few if any friends there. actually, all of my friends within my major were studying abroad, and i was completely alone. i was 6 hours away from home, and became so depressed i lost 15 pounds 2 months after the breakup. gaining weight is difficult for me, so a 15 lbs drop put me in dangerous territory if i were to get sick.

since then i’ve recovered some of that weight, about 5 to 8 lbs of it depending. mentally and emotionally, i am in a much better place. but one issue still lingered from that time: i have lost interest in food. before fall 2018 i already had a somewhat built in disinterest in food; if i was busy, i wouldnt eat simply because i’d forget to. spectrum brain sometimes gets Super Engrossed in a task, and then 6 hours have gone by and i haven’t eaten anything. so this made it a lot worse.

since i’ve been home, i’ve been working part-time in retail, and if we know anything about retail it’s that you get about one break a shift (a possible 15 if i have a short shift, and a mandatory unpaid 30 if i have a longer shift). this has made it even harder for me to get back on a consistent eating schedule. i can feel the toll it’s begun to take on my body, and so like i said, im posting this partly for my own archival purposes, and partly for anyone else who might find it useful.

my main dilemma that i noticed since i’ve been back home is that i’m just not excited when i eat food. when i have to eat lunch, it’s not, “aw fuck yeah, i’m gonna eat some mf PASTA” it’s, “ah, fuck, i have to go give my body sustenance.” if im busy, i get irritated because my task is being interrupted (a spectrum brain thing i think). if im not busy, i notice its just that im not excited about the flavor or event of Food. and so i asked myself, why the Fuck is this happening? this isnt, like, a normal thing that people usually experience. usually everyone around me is so excited about food.

i thought it was probably some sort of leftover symptom from a combination of things: 1) repetitive on-the-go on-campus food for the past 3 years, and 2) depression and lack of eating from the past year. actually, if we go farther back, this has been happening probably since high school, though on a subtler level, since i was so overwhelmed with schoolwork i rarely had consistent meals.

there are a few things that are consistent here:

stress

pace of my environment

lack of meal variety

those second and third ones especially are really notable to me, i think, because i notice im a really fucking fast eater. especially if i want to get back to something i was doing earlier. sometimes it’s required but a lot of times it’s not. the other thing, lack of meal variety, is something ive been trying to tackle too. i think that lack of enrichment with different flavors and textures makes food dull. the problem is, spectrum brain is a little bitch and HATES certain textures. it is one PICKY motherfucker. we like tomatoes and bell peppers - ONLY IF the they are diced very finely, and put in a carb (like pasta, rice...etc). so it makes it really hard for me to have meal variety when the taste might be fine but the texture is something my brain rejects. one issue at a time, i guess.

what i did this weekend was really good, though. Really Good. i pulled some resources from my nutritionist i had on campus (i can send those to anyone upon request) and made two things:

a shopping list

a meal list

the thing about me and grocery shopping is this: when i have to grocery shop, i have to ask myself, what do i wanna eat over the next week or two? and my brain goes, who the fuck knows, kid! and so i end up buying some of the things i like, but not having enough variety to keep me Enriched. a lot of the food goes to waste, or i forget about the options i have, etc. furthermore, now that i work, i can’t keep buying food from my store, its not economical or healthy. so i needed to really buckle down and do meal prep, and do it well, because my job is demanding.

so! i pulled some meal ideas and snack ideas from my nutritionist’s handouts, and made a shopping list. then i made a meal list, which breaks down meals that i know i like for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and then snacks. i have to be eating about 5 times a day consistently to gain weight. 3 meals and 2 snacks minimum. then, in a separate column, i indicated if it was a “work-ready” meal, so i knew how many i could pack as lunches or snacks.

now i have that list to look at if i dont know what to eat! because as stupid as it sounds, i have a really hard time synthesizing the groceries i’ve bought and the options i have, especially when it’s mixed in with my parents’ food in the fridge and pantry. that list of meals i can reference will hopefully help me 1) not waste food and 2) feel like i have some variety.

my other thing that ive been doing to help me get excited about food, and to also slow the FUCK down when i eat (to help me savor flavors) is being social when i eat. especially since a lot of my friends are still in college right now or work, when i can, i take my meals out and sit with my parents. it not only forces me to slow down eating by talking, but also makes me feel less lonely, which was a really bad issue i had in college. i took almost every meal alone. and humans are social! and the social part is helping a lot.

so if youre even reading this, thanks for reading. like i said, this was mostly for archival purposes, but for people with similar issues as me, i hope this helped in some way too.

[rockofcalifa]

PART IV: 1434

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A knock sounded at Stanislav’s door. Vitaliya - she always knocked in a particular way. He didn't reply, knowing his guest would take silence as assent, and a second later Vitaliya slipped inside.

 "Hi," Stanislav greeted, continuing to pack clothes into his favorite, vibrantly embroidered bag - a gift from Vitaliya, incidentally.

 "Hi Slavaaa," Vitaliya said cutely, giving him her biggest eyes and a bit of a pout.

 "Awww," Stanislav said. "Does Vitina want something from me?"

 "Yes, Slava, can I go with you?"

 Stanislav's smile faded and his hands dropped to his sides. "You do understand the true nature of this trip, right?" he said, throwing a glance at his case of chemicals and instruments ready to go on the table.

 "Of course I know," Vitaliya replied indignantly. "We're finally finishing Kosoi off."

 It was true. Vitaliya's oldest brother had fled to Vilnius, in the Duchy of Lithuania, and instead of keeping a low profile, he had started agitating for the Grand Duke to annex Muscovy. He had become too much of a nuisance to ignore any longer, so Stanislav was going - under the guise of a pastoral visit sent by the Archbishop - to finish him off.

 "I want to help," Vitaliya continued. "It only feels right for me to finish what I started."

 "You don't have to go."

 "Didn't I just say that I want to go?" Vitaliya said. "I want to do it. You guys didn't let me help with Iurii, and now you're trying to leave me out of this, too. It makes me feel like you guys don't trust me."

 "Of course we trust you." Stanislav frowned. "We just..." We just don't want to hurt you. They had never explicitly discussed it, but Stanislav felt he and Vasilii had a tacit agreement that Vitaliya generally shouldn't be forced to act as Vasilii's agent in matters involving her own family. "Have you spoken to Vasilii about this?"

 Vitaliya nodded. "He said I could come if you were okay with it."

 Stanislav sighed and crossed his arms. "Okay. But I'm concerned about both of us being gone at the same time."

 "Vasilii wasn't worried about it."

 "Apparently it's my job to do all the worrying around here. What if something happens?"

 "Slaaava," Vitaliya whined, bringing back the big eyes. "It's Milyena’s first time traveling, and I want to make sure she's comfortable and safe, please let me come."

 "Okay, okay, okay," he conceded. "But don't be late when we leave in the morning, or I'll go without you."

 "Yay!" Vitaliya dashed towards the door. "Thank you, Slava!"

 He smiled and shook his head, returning to his packing. Vitaliya really knew how to get what she wanted.

  If Vitaliya had Stanislav wrapped around her little finger, Milyena had Vitaliya wrapped around hers. Vitaliya doted on her continuously throughout the journey, and Milyena repaid her with constant attention and affection. At night, in the tent beside Stanislav's, the two would whisper and giggle for hours until they fell asleep. Stanislav couldn't find it in him to be annoyed - he was too fond.

  Once they arrived in Vilnius, the fact that Vitaliya was around allowed Stanislav to essentially be in two places at once. Vitaliya, posing as the captain of a small security detachment, accompanied Milyena's group of clergymen to their scheduled events, leaving Stanislav free to pursue other tasks. He had a lot of courtesy business to take care of - his entire family, excepting his mother, lived in and around this city, and if any of them found out he had come to Vilnius without paying them a visit, they could take it the wrong way. So while Vitaliya passed her days sitting in churches and rectories, Stanislav spent his in his relatives' parlors and dining rooms.

 The most important and most obligatory visit he had to pay was to his mother's oldest brother - the Grand Duke himself. Stanislav anticipated getting questions about sensitive information and prepared ways to politely resist such lines of inquiry, but when he arrived he discovered he'd had nothing to worry about. Either his uncle didn't realize that he had Vasilii's two right-hand men in his city, or he did, and he was playing a long game. Either way, he thankfully seemed more interested in Stanislav's mother and her health than in Stanislav himself.

 Then, just as his uncle was showing him the way out, the conversation turned in a new direction.

 "I have an offer for you," the Grand Duke said, laying a large, bejeweled hand on Stanislav’s shoulder. "One I would like for you to consider."

 "Of course," Stanislav said, a little curious, a little wary.

 "I need more levelheaded men around," the Duke mused. "I want you to think about remaining here in Vilnius. I could have everything set up for you - titles, land, an advantageous marriage - everything. You'd be secure for life."

 Stanislav swallowed, trying to figure out how to decline gracefully. "I appreciate your offer, sir. I'm sure you understand my position. Moscow is everything I know. I'm reluctant to leave behind what I've built there."

 "That's why I'm asking you to consider it." The Duke pat Stanislav on the back. "Give it some thought. And send your mother my hello."

   It was to be a while before Stanislav could tell Vitaliya about the conversation. First, there was of course the matter of Kosoi. His death was accomplished without much fuss - Stanislav even considered it a job particularly well done. Vitaliya, having assisted him in the preparations, remained unfazed. And the court physician declared the cause of death to be a sudden illness.

 Milyena was not as easy to fool. As soon as the news broke, she understood what had really happened, and that she had been lied to about the real reason for the trip. It took about a week of Stanislav accompanying Milyena to her events before she and Vitaliya made up and started talking to each other again, at which point they had reached the last few days of their visit.

 "I think I forgot to tell you about how my uncle tried to bribe me to stay in Vilnius..." Stanislav was sitting on Vitaliya's bed, watching the other pack her favorite, richly colored bag - a gift from Stanislav.

 "What?" Vitaliya whipped her head around. "Yeah, I would have remembered something like that. What happened?"

 He shrugged. "He basically said he'd set me up for life."

 "You know Vasilii would let you stay here if that's what you thought was the best for you..." she said.

 "Hold on," Stanislav protested, taken aback at the suggestion that he would even consider his uncle's offer. "I'm definitely not doing it. I just thought it was interesting that he offered."

 "I just want to make sure you really understand your options," she said. "You could have a more peaceful life here, with the added security of your relatives."

 "Then if I survive to old age, maybe I'll retire here. But you're not getting rid of me that easily."

 "Aww, rats," Vitaliya teased. "And here I thought I'd managed -"

 "Wait!" Stanislav cut her off. "Did you hear that?"

 "What?" Vitaliya whispered.

 "I heard voices. Somebody talking to the guard..." Stanislav trailed off as he heard quick, clanking footsteps approaching their door.

 He and Vitaliya exchanged a meaningful look. They had asked the guard not to be disturbed, so either there was an emergency, or...

 Stanislav gripped the hilt of the dagger he wore at his hip, and Vitaliya quietly crossed the room to pick up the poker from the fireplace.

 "Sir!" The footsteps stopped outside the door and were replaced by a fist pounding the wood. "Sir!"

 Stanislav gave a small nod. "Enter," called Vitaliya.

 As soon as the word left his mouth, the door swung open, a partially armored man entering and falling to one knee in front of the entryway. From the colors he wore, Stanislav could tell it was one of Vitaliya's men; at the same time, he knew the man had not been part of their original traveling entourage.

 "I bring news from Moscow," the man panted.

 "Sit, and tell us," Vitaliya instructed, pointing at the chair next to the fireplace. The man clanked over and collapsed into it.

 "The Khan sent his troops to the city, without warning," the man said. "They took us by surprise. We weren't able to negotiate..."

 "Get to the point," Stanislav barked, growing dread washing over him. Vitaliya shot him a disapproving look.

 "They took the Prince." Stanislav saw Vitaliya's hands close into fists. "That's all they did. No burning, no pillaging. I'm not sure why they did it, or where they're taking him, but -"

 "Sarai," Stanislav interjected. "In all likelihood they're taking him to the Khan himself."

 "Y-yes," the messenger stuttered.

 "When did you leave?" Vitaliya asked.

 "Ten days ago, sir."

 Vitaliya's face was pale and Stanislav knew he probably looked just as distraught. "Fuck, what the fuck?" she muttered.

 "I knew something was going to happen," Stanislav said, his guilt magnifying as he imagined Vasilii facing the situation without either of their help. "I knew it, we never should have left. This is my fault..."

 "Slava, stop. What could we have done? Told the Khan's troops to turn around?"

 "You're right." She wasn't right but he didn't want her to think about Vasilii, alone among strangers, probably fearing for his life. "I'm worried about what's happened in the ten days since."

 "And it's going to take us at least two weeks to get back... Milyena and I should return as soon as possible, but I - I think you should stay here and wait for more news."

 Stanislav's frown deepened. The forgotten messenger looked back and forth between them. "But I -"

 "I know you hate the idea," Vitaliya entreated. "But I'm worried that if Vasilii's not there, it won't be safe for you." Because while her status was backed up by her family, Stanislav had both no formal position at court and a fair amount of enemies. "Please, I know you want to be helpful, but you're more valuable alive than dead."

 "You better send me news as soon as you arrive, Vitina," he said. "I'll be worrying about you constantly."

 He always ended up conceding to Vitaliya. "Of course I will. Thank you for agreeing. This is all because of some big misunderstanding, right?"

 "Right," Stanislav agreed. "It has to be."

 She took a long breath. "Then we're all going to be okay."

back to index

[the-things-that-annoy-us-blog]

I think people do not fully appreciate uncles and aunts. You know... the people you leave your kids with most of the time? I mean, of course grandparents take the brunt of that duty, but c’mon, give us some credit, too!

Now, it’s not like I’m not glad to see my nephew or niece once in a while; see how they grew up, talk, yada yada yada. But man, let me tell you: this euphoria lasts for about two hours before your head starts to seriously hurt.

Just let me draw you a picture here, alright? Just a slight dip into my world of an aunt:

Head throbbing, you still read fairytales to the kids before they go to sleep. Three of those and not even the five-minutes ones, you know? No, you really do like your family, so you read for an hour and a half /straight/ (no pun intended, but come to think of it, all the fairytales feature straight people and that’s something that should definitely change; but back to the point).

The kids do not fall asleep even after that, but you’re so done - or overdone like a burned steak. You don’t go to sleep, though. Instead, you’re constantly checking on them if they did not fall off the bed, which:

I. they’re okay, but still not asleep

II. they are dead to the world, still on the bed

III. snoring like a bear on a verge of falling off the bed, hence you proceed to built a pillow fort or solve it in another way - as long as it will ensure the kids will not kill themselves in their sleep

IV. they start to kick the sheets off themselves as soon as their  unconsciousness realizes that you won’t let them kill themselves by falling off the bed, hence, let’s catch some cold instead, shall we?

V. reoccurence of either of the stages mentioned above

VI. you still cannot concentrate on your actual work you still have left to do, because you constantly check on the little beans

Then /finally/, their parents get back and you’re like "Awesome, now, I can do my /work/ (and what a joy, guys, right?), almost by midnight. So you load up your laptop to do the shit, but guess what? You’re capable of just staring at the screen, completely out of any wit or functioning brain (because the kids drained it to the last braincell).

Therefore, you don’t progress with your work even an inch, falling asleep instead. Is that the end? Hardly.

Waking up in the morning, your mind’s in shards, head thumping like it does after pulling an allnighter. You wouldn’t say no to at least one more sleep session, but you know that if you don’t want to get even more behind your work schedule (and with loud kids in the next room), there’s no chance of that happening.

What I’m trying to say here - there’s a reason why I don’t have kids (adopted or biologically mine, it does not matter). Yet, I basically still ocassionally have them, whether I want or not.

I know, guys. Kids are a joy in life and yada yada yada. But some of us are not meant to have them for a simple reason - we are not capable of working, with them around. Multitasking with a kid flying this or that way is a suicide for me. It’s either the kid or a complete mayhem. Why did my sibling had to have two such devils, I will never know. I feel doomed.

They are lovely, They are awesome. They are sparkling like Edward Cullen on a sunlight if that’s what you dig (I certainly do not). But only from afar or for the first few hours I get to take care of them.

I say, you had fun making them? Alright, cool. But also suffer the consequences, dammit. I did not get to have the fun part, why should I eat the shit part instead of you?

I am probably real terrible family member, but I cannot bring myself to care since THIS IS ME.

I still do love to read fairytales to the kids, though, because I know their parents don’t have time to do that and I do remember how much of a sucker I was for stories when I was a kid. I find it very important, hence, the hours I spend reading them fairytales are not wasted in my eyes. The problem is that I do not enjoy the catching-up I have to do whenever they visit.

Work piled up above a managable level. Tiredness. Headache. I am not built for kids - mine or someone elses. I simply am not. And it’s pretty presumptious to think all of us are capable of raising or taking care of little progeny’s while also managing to lead a functioning life. I would have to be a full-time parent. Period. There would be nothing else. It’s that bad. I ain’t afraid to state the truth about that. I am not a superhuman. Sorry to dissapoint, but not sorry at all. I am who I am.

[thoughtsbecomehim-blog]

i dont feel like i have anybody i can talk to so this is all just going out into empty space for the sake of posterity

i feel like i am being torn apart. sorrow, self pity, anger. hopefulness. the usual shit associated with heartbreak i guess. ive for now and potentially forever lost the person i want. she intermittently wants nothing to do with me and it makes me feel like something less than dirt. we built our lives together, not without mistakes and hardship, for four years. in a number of very important ways i have failed to be what she needed or became it too late. you can’t make somebody want to be with you. i just know that i want her. my memory tells me that most things i do are for her, from the small fires to put out before they turn into big ones for her, from the big ones like moving across the country twice to be with her. i breathe this person. seeing her happy from something i’ve done for her is the best feeling in the world for me. the road to hell is paved with good intentions i suppose. 

seeing my roommates happy with each other is like a hammer to my heart as well. their happiness is gut-wrenching and makes my recently deteriorated spirit shrink more and more. they have been a large stressor on our relationship since shortly after we moved in with them. everything was fine, in fact very good at first. i was excited to come home to our house and despite the looming debt of a 4000 dollar bill to get my vehicle back having a place to call our own again negated that. they do not live the same way we do though, they do not respect our things the way they should be nor do they treat shared space with much if any mutual respect. 

i told a close friend about some of this over drinks and found out last night that he was doing something bad to another friend of mine. so the guy i was at least willing if not comfortable talking about the turmoil in my life about has lost a ton of respect from me. i dont think i can look at him the same way for a while. i can tell my mom anything but she just doesnt really get it and it’s hard to counsel somebody when they are explaining why and how their relationship between two mentally suspect/unwell people has failed. 

ive found some refuge in listening to more music but that doesn’t last. every time my brain isn’t occupied it’s agonizing over what is going to end up happening which is just so unbelievably unhealthy. it is hard to hide whats going on at work and i cant magically be in a work mood when i need to be so when people inevitably ask whats wrong i mostly just want to scream out loud and die. i’m not under the assumption that break ups should be easy but i don’t know how you can ever really be ready to deal with it. 

starting a new schedule at work is also not an appealing idea and when i have days off by myself i have no ability to fill the entire day with productivity. those activity gaps are equally agonizing and the time spent in them seems to last three times longer than in reality. i realize the onus is on me to fill those gaps but part of the issue is knowing one is coming and then the anxiety setting in makes it hard to accomplish anything. 

we are also dealing with a flea infestation that our roommates are under the impression we, but specifically me, am responsible for. it has solidified the financially unwise but necessary decision to leave after the lease is up in march, along with my now ex partner potentially back to florida for good. 

i just feel like a lot of things have stacked against me in a very short amount of time. My relationship deteriorated quickly after we went out with our roommates for one of their birthdays where we felt obligated to go, spend basically all of our money doing so instead getting groceries or whatever. we both had an extremely bad time and took it out on each other. weeks after that her coworker let loose that another coworker has falsely claimed that she and i had ‘fooled around’ which was both completely removed from reality and a vicious attempt to hurt my partner at the expense of my own life and privacy over a crush she has on a guy my partner occasionally hangs out with as friends. the seed of doubt planted, my partner broke up with me because she could not believe me saying it wasn’t true. among a mountain of other more important things, true, but that was the final catalyst. the following two days were filled with hard, crushing words that make me shrivel even remembering.

i know the ways i have failed her as a partner. i know the ways i have loved her and done the right things for her as well. the bad outweighs the good for her. that’s life. i hope we choose to begin anew. as the adults we are. i cannot imagine ever wanting to take care of another person the way i do with her, nor can i imagine being more willing and eager to do so. it is very, very challenging to not let my anxiety about this affect the space i need to give her. being around her literally dissolves my insecurities, this was the first year i have been without a shirt around people who arent extremely close friends or family in 11 years. her being good for my mental health isnt a reason to stay with me though. 

ive been thinking about getting a therapist. just somebody to talk to that i dont have to associate with on a regular basis. the first 15 years of my life were intermittently spent in therapists offices with questionable results. i dont know that i can cite any tangible benefit directly related but i know that i dont have any desire to do to somebody else what was done to me so maybe thats a win for therapy. i cant see myself getting seriously suicidal, outside of the momentary contemplation we all experience when things are very tough. but there are some self harm issues, body image issues and other various things that i dont believe i work out myself. there’s also the realization that sometimes stuff like that you just have to carry. it’s not going to leave no matter who you talk to or what pills they give you. whatever facet of my personally that makes me feel like talking about my feelings with my friends is just unloading unwanted baggage for them i truly resent. 

every bad feeling you can have about yourself is something i’ve experienced daily for the last two weeks. i want to both collapse and explode at the same time. i want to feel your hand in mine and your lips against mine. i know it’s not going to happen for a long time, if ever.