#literally i am sitting here playing solitaire on my phone

[hey-scully-itsme]

we have officially hit Boring Time at my job. everyone join me in hoping i get to do a hybrid work-from-home thing this summer too

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Resistant Omega: Part 3

Pairings: Omega!Mickey Milkovich x Male Alpha!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, homophobia??? 

Word Count: 3,287

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well look-ie here, boys. It’s the Queen fucking fairy himself.” Terry Milkovich yelled as loud as he could not a second after you walked into the Alibi like you did every Friday night. “How you doin, fairy?”

“Leave it.” You growled as you headed over to the bar. You purposely ignored Mickey in the corner and pulled your wallet from your pocket.

“Usual, (Y/N)?” Kate asked as she started grabbing cups.

“You know it, baby girl.” She blushed, and looked away as you put a fifty on the bar.

“I still don’t know how you fucking do it, man.” Your friend, Sam said as he leaned on the bar next to you. “You have them wrapped around your fucking fingers.”

“No, not at all.” You teased with a glance over at him. “My cock, maybe.” He laughed and punched your arm as you blew a kiss at Kate and grabbed your glass. You grabbed your usual table in the far corner as Jax started to wrack the balls on the pool table.

“So I got word down the line.” Sam said softly as you grabbed a cue from the holder on the wall. “New box coming out of the North in the next five beats.”

“Where’s it coming out of?”

“New York.”

“What’s the haul?” You asked as you got chalk on your hand.

“There’s no manifest.” Jax muttered as he reached in front of you to grab a cue, too. “So there’s no guarantee….”

“Then we don’t fucking touch it.” You said flatly as you stepped around him and grabbed your beer. “We don’t fucking take runs we aren’t sure of. That’s how we get fucking caught, or how we end up with shit we can’t dump.”

“Dude… we are getting low…” Jax tried as you grabbed the cue ball and set it down on the table where you wanted it.

“Then we get low.” You growled as you looked up at him. You glanced down at the table and made your shot before standing up to look at him. “Do you think I don’t fucking plan for this shit, dumbass? Really? I’ve been thirty steps ahead of you for fucking years and you still haven’t fucking caught up. I have fucking pipe everywhere. We don’t need some manifest-less crap shot. Now far fucking be it from me to tell you what the fuck to do, Jax because I am not your Goddamn keeper. You wanna take the fucking run, go right on ahead. But shit coming outta New York with an unknown fucking manifest could mean Pfizer or it could be fucking Johnson and Johnson baby soap. So get me a fucking manifest or shut the fuck up about it. Sam, play.”

“What fucking pipe do you have?” Jax hissed as you pulled your cigarettes out of your pocket and habitually scanned the room for assholes and eavesdroppers alike.

“The kind that you don’t need to fucking worry about until I tell you you need to fucking worry about them.”

“You know, you really are a fucking asshole.”

“Yea, story of my fucking life.” You grumbled around your cigarette as you lined up for your next shot. “Much easier being a fucking asshole than tolerating the fucking bullshit in the fucking world.”

“Don’t get fucking married then.” He chuckled as he subtly sold some pills to one of the bar regulars, Kermit. “You have to be a fucking asshole and deal with the fucking bullshit.”

“That’s why you don’t get fuckin’ married.” You laughed as you walked around the table. “Problem fucking solved, bitch.”

“You hear that, Joey? The faggot thinks it can get married.” You glanced over and ducked Joey’s fist, but Terry’s caught you right in the middle of the stomach. Your beer glass shattered to the floor as you slammed into the wall behind you.

“Kev!” Kate screeched as you ducked Terry’s next punch while Sam tackled Joey to the floor to keep the fight even. Your claws almost literally came out as you slammed your fist into his face with the full intention of breaking every fucking bone in the man’s face not for your sake, but for Mickey’s. 

“Alright, alright. Get him up!” Kev yelled as Terry managed to get a solid hit to your jaw. 

“Fucking fag!” He shouted at you as Jax dragged you back away from the fight.

“Oh, it’s OK, Terry.” You taunted with a wide, bloody grin. “I know you fucking wish you could be sucking my cock tonight, mother fucker.”

“You sick fuck!” He shouted as he lunged toward you just as the first cop walked in. “Fucking faggot!” You laughed and held your hands up in surrender as a few more cops filed in to the bar. You were just about to put your hands behind your head when Mickey ran up and punched you hard in the face, easily breaking your nose.

“Mother fucker!”

“On the ground, Milkovich!”

“Good hit, boy!” Terry shouted as you were man handled on to your knees. You felt one of your friends slip a wad of cash into your sock, which you would absolutely need on the inside since this assault charge would land you at least a few months. You cracked your knuckles behind your back and glanced over at Jax.

“Get my fucking lawyer and keep your fucking phone on.” He nodded his head as you looked at the cop that had hand cuffed you. You purposely put the breaks on, since John was a beta that liked to dance on the wild side in your bed when his wife was at her sister’s, and glanced at Mickey’s back as he was carted out the door. “There’s a Franklin in my pocket to get Mickey into honor block, away from the others, and in my cell. It’s consensual. And he lawyers up with my lawyer without his fucking narrow-minded dickhead of a father finding out.” John looked down at you with a small nod and gave you a firm shove forward.

“Call it even with Shannon’s inhalers next month.” You nodded in agreement and got into the back of the cop car with a heavy sigh. 

“Fucking Milkovich.”

——

“I called bottom an hour ago.” Mickey said without even moving his arm away from his face.

“You’re gunna take whatever fucking bed I fuckin tell you to fucking take after you broke my Goddamn nose, bitch.” Your Omega shot up off the bed as you dropped your bed roll on the top bunk.

“I…”

“Scoot over. I’m fucking tired.”

“Alpha…”

“Scoot!” You barked as you grabbed your paper thin pillow and your pack of smokes. “Jesus Christ.” He scooted back against the wall as you dropped your pillow on top of his and handed him a lit cigarette. “Had to fucking gun for the fucking nose?”

“I fucking panicked, OK?” He snapped. You nodded your head and ashed on the floor as you laid down on the bed just as the lights in your cell went out since it was the middle of the night and the rest of the block was asleep.

“The fuck were you thinking, Mickey?” He shrugged and pulled your legs across his lap.

“Being without you.” He sighed. “That’s all I thought.” You exhaled forcefully and reached your hand down to find his hip.

“The fuck am I gunna do with you?” He shrugged in the darkness and stretched forward to ash on the ground as well.

“Well I can think of one thing you can do to me.” You made a loud buzzer sound and shook your head as you took one long, last drag before you called it a night.

“Your ass is fucking grounded until further notice.”

“What, because I fucking hit you?”

“Yep, and because I didn’t want the first time I actually spent the whole night with my Omega to be in a fucking jail cell.” You smirked and got up to put your cigarette butt in the toilet and to take off your stupid orange jumpsuit to get comfortable for bed. “So you can thank your Old Man for you not getting laid tonight.”

“I can’t fucking win.”

“You never will.” You huffed as you tossed his finished cigarette in the toilet and flushed them both. “Get used to it. Get your spot, ‘mega.”

“You sleep in my bed, you’re gunna out me…”

“I’m not gunna out you because just like every time I come to fucking jail, I will spend my days sitting in a fucking corner by the phones, doing puzzles, playing solitaire, and making sure my business doesn’t fucking collapse in the next couple months. And you can either be your adorable Alpha self far away from me so your image is protected or you can make a choice to be seen doing puzzles, playing cards, and working for me. I leave that up to you. But you jump on the faggot train in here and I will put you in your Goddamn place just like I would everyone else. And I’m gunning for your fucking nose first.”

“Yes, Alpha.” He chuckled as he pulled your arm around his chest and kissed your fingers. “Good night, (Y/N).” You smirked and kissed his shoulder.

“Good night, baby boy.”

——

“OK, get a fucking pen.” You growled to Jax the second he picked up the phone. “I got a lot to fucking get through in a short period of time.”

“Well good fucking morning to you, too.” He chuckled. “Sleep well?”

“Fuck off.” You growled as you leaned against the wall. “Alright, first and foremost, I need you to go to Gertie’s. Let Sandra know I’m going to be gone a while, but that won’t stop you from getting her meds.”

“What meds…”

“Don’t… fucking interrupt me.” You growled. “Just fucking tell her the shit will be delivered like usual. Then, go to my fucking house. Upstairs in my bedroom under the bedside table on the far side of the bed, is a cardboard box with suppressants in it. I need a month supply. Don’t! Ask fucking questions!” You barked when Jax tried to cut you off again. “Fuckin a! Get those, some blues, and like 2 grand in cash to the jail within the next two hours. Skids is running visitation today and he’ll get them to me. Now, the list of Gertie’s meds is on the bulletin board in the fucking laundry room hidden under the fucking menu for that Chinese place up the block. Just pay attention to the names and doses and match them up carefully. There’s a Spanish bus coming up the coast in about four days. Should spit out enough beans to keep everyone fucking grassy for a nice long while. I’ll set it up from in here.”

“Need a burner?”

“Got one. Just keep my books up and I’ll check in.”

“Need me to leave visitations open for anyone?” Your eyes darted over to where Mickey was watching the morning news on the only, shitty TV.

“No… fuck that. Ain’t no one need to see me in here. Just lock up my house on the way out and keep an eye on it and Gertie for me. I’m lookin’ at max three months which ain’t shit but an annoyance.”

“Yea, you got it.” He sighed. “I’m leaving the house now.”

“You somehow manage to burn my fucking business to the ground and I’ll cut your fucking throat out.”

“I know the fucking drill, asshole.” He laughed before he hung up the phone. You dropped the receiver on the holder and turned toward ‘the bubble’ where the guards all sat. You wordlessly told them that you’d have a delivery in a few hours, and grabbed your seat at your table to settle in for a long next few months. You grabbed one of your last cigarettes and sparked it up as you pulled the top off the box of a lighthouse puzzle that was probably missing pieces.

“Hey, bitch! What you got there?” Mickey asked in a cocky tone as he grabbed your cigarettes off the table. “Well, don’t mind if I fucking do.”

“You put that fucking cigarette in your fucking mouth and I’ll cut your fucking dick off.” You replied as you started to slowly separate the pieces.

“Oh, is that a fucking dare?” He asked as he sat down at the table beside you. You looked up at him to see that he was alone and used a puzzle piece to push your matches toward him.

“Fucking promise. I’m gunna need you to be a fucking runner for me in here. Got one of my guys bringing in some blues, and I surprisingly don’t have fuckers in H block right now to work for me. So you just got hired.”

“Wow… so I’m a bitch, now.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t announce it to the fucking universe if I were you.” You teased with a smile. “But I’m not paying you with dick for you to keep your back on my enemies. Turn the fuck around and do your goddamn job so I can jigsaw in peace.”

“Fuckin’ bossy.” He huffed as he got up and sat down across the metal table from you with his back to you. “The fuck you lookin’ at?”

“Bark, bark.” You muttered under your breath as you matched two edge pieces.

“Fuck you.”

——

You were expecting a few weeks of incarceration, but on only day three, someone posted your bail.

“(Y/L/N)! You posted!” You actually froze in your spot with a puzzle piece in your fingers, as you ran through the list in your head on who would have thought wasting their money on you was a good idea.

“Fucking idiots.”

“Don’t…” Mickey practically whispered as you started cleaning up the puzzle pieces.

“I’ll post your bail the second I hit the streets.” You said under your breath. “You’ll be home in no time.” He barely nodded his head and held out his hand to pass you the rest of your pills and your money. “Just unload it and unload it fast.” You said as you took the cash. He hummed as you got barked at again to hurry up. You slid some cash into Mickey’s suppressants box, just in case, and grabbed your still untouched bed roll from your bunk. The process of you getting out took about half an hour, and your first phone call was going to be to Jax had Sandra not been waiting for you.

“Honey, what are you doing?” You asked as she came over and gave you a hug.

“Mom has been screaming for two days. Jax came in instead of you and she just lost her mind… I couldn’t even leave for work yesterday and she barely let me out of the house this morning until I swore I’d come back with you.”

“OK. OK.” You said with a nod as you kissed the top of her head and pulled out your wallet. “Look, I need you to do one more thing for me before I take you home. I need you to bail someone else out. I can’t, I’m a felon. Mikhailo Milkovich.”

“OK… Wait, what is the name?”

“I’ll write it down.” You chuckled as you handed her five hundred bucks. “Keep the rest for your troubles and to cover gas and my bail. And I’ll make sure he shows up for court.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She said as she took your note turned to head toward the bail bondsmen again. When she was out of earshot, you pulled out your phone and called Jax.

“How the fuck are you calling from your phone?” 

“Apparently, you scared the fuck out of Gertie, so Sandra had to come bail me out. Get a fucking pen.”

“What the fuck is with you and pens?”

“Because you’re a fucking scatterbrained mother fucker and you’d probably forget your own Goddamn name if you’re Omega wasn’t screaming it at all hours of the fucking day.”

“Fuck you.”

“I need you, Sam, and Daryl at my house in two hours. I need a satellite, and street maps of everything south of Chicago, east of Peoria to the state line, and North of Champaign. I’m also gunna need every available man and vehicle we can get our hands on this weekend and the cars ready. And a large fucking pie because jail food sucks dick.”

“Wait… are we going after the New York haul?”

“No. We’re going after a big pharma distribution truck I just heard about before another crew gets to it.”

“We’re what now?”

“Be at my fucking house.” You repeated before hanging up the phone at the same time Sandra walked out of the office. “Thank you, sweetheart. You OK to wait for a bit?”

“Absolutely.” She said with a smile as you pulled out your cigarettes and held the pack out to her. “John’s staying with mom today until I could get you home and I get another day off this week to breathe.”

“So what the hell happened?” You laughed as you followed her over to her car to wait. “Did she throw things?”

“I had to walk over what I assumed was a shattered glass vase and then had to spend an hour separating and reorganizing a med container that she threw at him but all in all, she was just doing a lot of screaming.”

“She’s always been a fucking pistol.” You laughed as you both leaned against the side of her car.

“So who’s this guy to you? Someone special if I’m bailing his ass.” You smirked and looked up at the jail with a small shake of your head.

“My Omega.” You glanced over at her as she pouted out her bottom lip.

“Awww!!!!”

“Stop.”

“But my big brother finally has an Omega!”

“Yea, but he’s not out yet and he’s a fucking mess so we’re not gunna bring it up until he’s ready, OK?” 

“Aww! You’re all protective, how cute!”

“Fuckin’ shit.” You chuckled as you bumped her shoulder with yours. She giggled and laid her head on your arm with a heavy sigh.

“Young love is a beautiful thing.” You nodded your head and put your arm around her shoulders as you fell into a comfortable silence to wait.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?” You looked over at the side door Mickey was walking out of almost an hour later and gestured to him dismissively. 

“That’s your first impression? Mickey, Sandra who is as close to a sister as I’ve ever had. She’s the reason we’re walking free so show some fucking respect. Get in, asshole. I got shit to do.” He rolled his eyes at you and got in the back seat as you took the keys from Sandra, and headed around the car to open her door. Once you got in, you adjusted your seat and the mirrors and looked back at Mickey. “Which house?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about?”

“Bitch, she’s fucking family. She had you fucking made as someone close to me the moment I had her bail your ass outta fucking jail. So what fucking house? I got shit to do and the boys comin’ over…”

“Yours.” He said as he sat back in his seat and glanced at Sandra. She pouted out her bottom lip again and looked over at you as you headed home.

“Shut up.” You chuckled as you reached over and pushed her face away.

“You say a Goddamn word and I’ll fucking kill you!” Mickey threatened, causing you to growl at him as you caught his eye in the rearview mirror.

“‘mega, I will kick your fucking ass.”

Part 4

[jellogram]

If you are like me and have chronic insomnia issues here is a big ole list of some quiet things you can do in the middle of the night/before bed besides endless scrolling that might help quiet your mind:

Knit, crochet, embroider, etc

Do a puzzle

Read

Clean something, preferably something not too messy like dusting or wiping down the mirrors

Draw a tattoo on yourself with pen

Have a small snack or sip non-caffeinated tea and look out the window

Yoga or other stretching

Organize your closet or desk

If you have a porch or balcony and the weather isn't bad, stand outside in the fresh air for a few minutes

Do a guided meditation

Play solitaire

Make lists (on paper, not your phone) of different things, such things that make you happy, favorite songs, smells you like, places you want to visit, etc

If you can, talk to someone about a topic you're interested in, ramble about your favorite TV show or something as long as they don't mind and aren't trying to sleep

If you have a target language you are learning, practice by trying to think your normal thoughts in that language

Walk a few laps around your house/yard/building or even just your room

Make a sandwich that you can eat for lunch the next day

Color in a coloring book

If you have a fish bowl or tank, sit and watch the fish for a few minutes

Count something. Tiles on the floor, leaves on your house plants, anything

Alphabetize books, DVDs, or albums you own

Cut pictures out of a magazine

Hang out with your pet, if they're awake

Play with Play-Doh

And my personal favorite because of its simplicity, laying down somewhere else. Get out of bed and instead lay down on a couch, spare mattress, or even just the carpet. Lay down there until you start to drift off a bit, then go back to bed.

I've done almost all of these things at like 4am before. The basic idea is to find an activity that is distracting but still fairly low effort (don't go working on your novel or jogging on a treadmill). Stick with things that are quiet (no playing electric guitar) and not on a screen (no YouTube). Tailor you activity towards what's causing your insomnia. If you feel frustrated and helpless, cleaning might help you feel productive. If you feel overwhelmed and stressed, try yoga or meditation. If you are bothered by a specific problem, reading or talking to a friend about something else might be good distractions. If your brain is simply going too fast about anything and everything, arts and crafts activities might help you keep it occupied.

I hope this helps! I am literally writing this out of insomnia (breaking my no screens rule unfortunately) and now it's time for bed.

[howxforeverxfeels]

Title: Who You’d Be Today

Summary: Simone deals with rejection and wrestles with the emotions she’s repressed for decades.

Warnings: High emotions, trigger warning for mentions of gangs, kidnapping, hospitals, and murder.

Simone wished that she could say staying with her father made her feel like a little girl again, that there were some warm fuzzy memories that washed over her during the last forty-eight hours they’d spent together but... this was not what she considered their home, and much had happened in their past to prevent her from getting those pleasant vibes she so longed for. Even in the current moment, as she sat at the table in her father’s kitchen with playing cards splayed before her, Simone’s mind was racing with thoughts that she dared not speak. Since they’d gotten their blood drawn, Preston had been insistent that they not discuss the matter until the results were in. To that point he’d made his way toward work that day, with a promise that if the results came back positive they would both go to ‘meet’ Gabriel when he returned home from work.

Hazel eyes regarded a barely-touched sandwich, placed near her phone as she waited for the e-mail that would contain the results. She wasn’t sure when today they would be in, but Julia assured her they were top priority as a multi-decade missing persons case so she hoped it would be soon. Though, perhaps, it would be best if they didn’t arrive until Preston was home. She knew that as much as she loved her father... if this mystery man was Gabriel, there would be no waiting until they were both able to -- Simone could not sit by for hours waiting for the chance to see him, not after this long.

Her phone lit up to show a text message from Julia, asking if she had received the results. Fingers grasped the cards between them tighter, frustrated that there weren’t when she was trying to be so patient. This was out of her control, and it had taken everything in her to focus on accepting that and waiting, something she had never been good at. Refocusing her attention on the card game before her, she spent the next half hour finishing her game of solitaire before allowing herself to finally reach for the phone to reply to Julia.

Immediately after punching in her security code, Simone’s eyes caught sight of the symbol for her email amongst the notifications she’d ignored in her attempt to control her focus. She took a deep breath to calm the sudden burst of nerves that fluttered up within her as she opened the app and found herself staring at the e-mail she had been waiting to receive the last forty-eight hours. Eager as she had been, there was now a hesitance within her that she wished she could understand. Yet she sat there, finger poised over the e-mail as if waiting for someone or something to force her to do it. She sat there for longer than she cared to admit before she opened it, eyes scanning over all the details presented before her before she reached a line that read: Conclusion:  The genetic data supports a full sibship relationship involving Simone Carver nee Templeton and Gabriel Dixon nee Templeton.

----

Two hours and a handful of phone calls later, Simone found herself outside of a room in the very same hospital she’d been in two days prior for the blood test. Julia hadn’t been willing to give up much information, but once the results were forwarded to her she’d relented just enough for Simone to get the information that Gabriel was in the hospital. The why and how fell upon seemingly deaf ears, and she didn’t dare to push further when she could simply ask Gabriel himself.

For years, literal decades, Simone had built up this moment in her mind -- the moment she would see her baby brother for the first time since he was a year old. She’d never given up hope that he was alive, simply given up hope on finding him herself. She’d run through scenarios in her mind more often than she would ever care to admit, but nothing she had thought of prepared her to see him in a hospital room at the age of twenty-one. Surely he wouldn’t remember her or their family, and she expected that but as long as he’d been raised right she could forget the past in order to focus on their future, reunited. Almost timidly, she raised her hand to give a knock on the cracked-open hospital door. 

The sound of the TV playing from the room lessened and the voice that graced her ears sounded.. tired, gruff... nothing like what she had expected him to sound like. “Come in?” There was a question that hung between us, and there was the briefest thought that maybe she should wait for Preston, but that thought was burned away by her desire to see him. 

The curtain was drawn in the room, and as soon as she stepped inside her eyes caught glimpse of him as she felt her breath catch in her throat. There, hooked up to an IV and propped against pillows was the gaunt form of a man. At first Simone thought Julia had the wrong man -- there was no way this utter stranger was the brother she’d dreamed of finding... but the more she looked at him, damn near gawking, the more she began to see features that reminded her of her mother and her father both - features she’d noticed within Kiera, too. She hadn’t even realized she was staring until she took in the furrowed brows and confused look from him.

“Uh... do I know you?”

“You did. Once.” The words tumbled forth absent-mindedly as she took a few steps in, noting the way he withdrew against the bed nervously. “I am Simone Carver, but when you knew me I was Simone Templeton. My father is Preston, my mother is -- was -- Kira. You’re Gabriel?”

Confusion continued to cloud his features as the man took her in, his arms moving to cross defensively in front of him as she inquired about his name. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. What’s it to ya, Simone?”

The way her name left his lips, as if she’d done something to hurt him, broke her heart. “What it is to me, Gabriel, is that I have been searching for you for twenty years...” She ignored the indignant look that crossed his features, continuing, “I’m your sister. You were taken from us when you were barely a year old, and it took longer than expected but I’ve finally---”

“Look, lady..” Gabriel shook his head, “I dunno who you think I am, but I’m Gabriel Dixon, not Templeton and I’ve never even heard of you or your family, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’ve been a Dixon my whole damn life, even got a birth cert. to show it. So sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but the only sisters I’ve got are Dixon’s too.”

“No, Gabriel -- our father and I, we took a blood test. I’m your sister, you were taken from us by...” Pausing a mere five feet away as she spoke, her gaze moved over his face and down to the crossed arms, catching the sight of a familiar insignia on his forearm. She gasped, unable to stop herself, a hand raising to her mouth instantly. Her worst fears had been confirmed in that moment, and she shook her head as he reached for the call button near his bed. “Please, don’t, I--”

“No.” His voice was firm now as he moved, finger poised over the button. “You’re leaving, Simone. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I was born a Dixon and you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I was kidnapped by them. My folks are decent people, and you’re just a crazy bitch. So get the fuck out, before I get someone in here to get you out.”

Simone stood there, staring at Gabriel for a long moment as she tried to decide what she needed to do. When his finger rested on the button, she put her hands up in defeat. “Fine, I’ll leave. But Gabriel... I’m telling you the truth. Blood tests don’t lie. Get one with your family and you’ll see what I mean.” With that she spun on her heel and left the room as fast as she could without looking back.

[the-original-blackcat]

Chapter 2 Way Too Adult?

Here is the second chapter to my @thatsthat24 Fic

@vortexart

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

(Narrator’s P.O.V)

“Before we start the next video of the day why don’t I go and make everyone one some food to munch on while we watch?” Patton asks as he gets up from the couch with a smile on his face.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea Mo.” Thomas says with his own smile up at Patton.

“Anxiety why don’t you come and help me?” Paton asks and before Anxiety or anyone else can say a word Patton pulls Anxiety from his chair and leads him into the kitchen to help him.

“Why did you pull me in here Patton?” Anxiety asks once they are in the kitchen and away from anyone listening in on their conversation, Patton gives him a soft fatherly look on his face.

“What’s the matter Kiddo? You seemed really quiet in there and more so then normal.” Patton asks him with a soft fatherly tone of voice as the younger trait looks off to the side stubbornly.

“Can we just get the food ready and go back to watching the videos please?” Anxiety asks softly, Patton smiles comfortingly down at him and gives a short nod of the head to the younger.

“Alright but when you need to talk I’m here.” Patton says before they get the food sorted for the others, once they are done they both head back to the main room with food in hand.

“This looks really good Patton. You really out did yourself this time!” Logan says to him as he takes his plate of food with Roman and Thomas both agreeing with him as they take their own.

“And here you all are a bottle of drink each.” Anxiety says as he passes them a bottle each, Roman has a bottle of coke, Logan has Mountain Due, Thomas has Lemonade and Patton has Fanta.

Scene: Thomas’s Lounge

Thomas: HI. My name’s Thomas Sanders and yes, I have worn this shirt for the fifteen millionth time. LET’S MOVE ON!

(Title sequence)

Thomas: WHAT IS UP EVERYBODY? So like many other people in America, I’m getting ready for that magnificent Thursday that comes around once a year where we gather around the table with our family, avoid conversation pertaining to politics and my lack of a significant other and gorge ourselves on more food than we would ever naturally eat any other day of the year. (gasps) That was one breath Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is what oi was referring to. I don’t know if any of you were confused. This year, however, will be just a bit different. I shall be the only one of four brother there. So naturally, my dad has asked me to cook the meal. Here’s the ing though, I still don’t really know how to cook.

Patton: (off screen) WHAT?! (pops up) Okay, I’ve had enough of this.

“Hey, look it’s me!” Patton says in a happy tone as he watches himself pop up on the screen, gaining laughs and smile from the others at how happy Patton looks at the moment.

“Yes, Patton that is indeed you.” Prince laughs with a smile at the dad like trait.

Thomas: Umm… My dad character. What are you doing here? I had you here last time to help represent my moral side.

Patton: Well just think of me as your sense of morality really firing back at you with a vengeance today. Do you know how often you say you can’t cook? Lots of times. Do you know how often you try to lean to cook? Zero times.

Thomas: Not true. There was that one time a few months ago when… You’re right. It’s already a bad sign that I have to go back that far.

Patton: being able to cook yourself a meal is an essential part of living as an adult. (short burst of music)

“Ah!” Logan, Roman and Anxiety all give a small jump at the sudden sound from the video to the amusement of Thomas and Patton who are trying to hide their laughter with little success.

“It’s not funny Patton, Sanders.” Anxiety growls out once he sees them laughing behind their hands before turning back to watch the screen, Roman and Logan agreeing with him.

Thomas: GAH! Why you gotta say that word?

Patton: Why? Adult? (another burst of music)

Thomas: I had that music set up specifically for this.

Patton: Oh come on!! I’m an adult! I’m a dad, it’s not that scary.

Thomas: Your face is scary.

Patton: You realize we…

Thomas: … have the same face. Yeah, I messed up. This is not my day today.

Patton: Okay, let’s come down. Why don’t we go through a list of what you can do yourself?

Thomas: Okay, yeah, sure. Umm… yeah I can manage that.

Patton: Can you change the oil in your car?

Thomas: I don’t think so.

Patton: Okay. Can you do taxes?

Thomas: Absolutely, I cannot.

Patton: Can you handle disposing bugs, spiders, or other creatures you may find in your house?

Thomas: C’mon.

Patton: Yeah, that’s a no.

Thomas: UGH THIS IS SO BAD. I am literally failing at the process of becoming an adult.

Patton: Which we all know is referred to as… adultery.

As Logan, Roman and Anxiety take a drink of their drinks Patton on screen says that and they all spit out what was in their mouths in shock at what had come out of the innocent traits mouth.

“PATTON!” Logan and Roman say while Anxiety just gives him a weird look that no one notices.

Thomas:  No, no.

Patton: No??

Thomas: That is not a correct statement.

Patton: Hmm… I thought it was a thing.

Thomas: It’s a thing. It’s just a different thing.

Patton: Oh it is? Okay. Well, so… (laughs)

Thomas: Like really though, how am I this bad at taking care of myself? I treat the stove in my kitchen like a friend that I’ve been neglecting.

Scene: Kitchen

Thomas: (singing) My humps.

“Why that song out of a million other songs you could have picked to sing in this little fantasy, Sanders?” Anxiety asks Thomas once he has gotten over his little coughing fit from earlier.

“Leave him alone, he can sing what he wants to sing.” Roman says to the dark trait with a glare.

Stove: (off screen) Hey Thomas!

Thomas: Hey man!

Stove: How have you been?

Thomas: I’m doing well, thank you for asking. I’m doing very well.

Stove: Have any food to cook?

Thomas: Umm… Hmm… Nah.

Stove: Even just good old ramen or something?

Thomas: Ahh… Umm… You know, I’m not really feeling hungry at the moment so.

Stove: Ah… True, true.

Thomas: Yeah.

Stove: Who you calling?

Thomas: Oh no one. Just, you know… my mum. She asked me to call her.

Stove: Totally, sounds lit.

Thomas: (laughs) Yeah…

Stove: You know, unlike me… because I’m an unlit stove. (off screen) Have been for some time now… (laughs)

“You just had to sneak in a stove pun didn’t you?” Logan says sounding unimpressed with the pun loving trait that is sitting right beside him, Patton gives him an innocent look and soft smile.

Thomas: Okay, well I’m going to go.

Stove: Cool, cool. Uh… yeah, yeah, yeah.

Thomas: Good seeing you again.

Stove: (off screen) See you later.

Thomas: Alright, yeah…

Stove: Catch up with you later?

Thomas: Yeah.

Stove: (off screen) See you later.

Thomas: Yeah, good seeing you.

Stove: See you later.

Thomas: (whispers into phone) Yes, I’d like a large cheese please.

“Yeah you were so not hungry at that moment.” Anxiety mutters sarcastically with an eye roll as well, Roman and Logan glare at the dark trait with unimpressed looks.

Scene: Thomas Lounge.

Patton: Yeah that’s pretty bad.

Thomas: I knowwww.

Patton: Well it’s all in baby steps, like everything you’ve learned in life.

Thomas: Like what?

Patton: Well, you wash your own laundry, don’t you?

Thomas: Yeah.

Patton: You’ve learned to eat better and exercise.

Thomas: I still eat a ton of pizza, but yeah.

Patton: And when dealing with other people, you know when to stand up for what’s right and when to turn the other cheek.

Thomas: I show them my butt.

“Princey.” Logic and Anxiety say with unimpressed tones as they cross their arms over their chest at him, Roman looks at them with an innocent look that the others don’t believe for a second.

“Yes?” He asks them in a rather cheeky but innocent sounding voice and charming smile that has the others all rolling their eyes at him fondly... well most of them do it in a fond way.

Patton: Not what I meant. And you probably should stop showing people your… well… one problem at a time. The point is… you didn’t always know to do those things, and they came about because you took the time to learn.

Thomas: Ahh, you’re right.

Patton: Learn from your parents, and hopefully they will also take the time to learn from you and what you know.

Thomas: How to turn on the computer so that my mum can play solitaire.

Patton: Right.

Thomas: I hope you all learn new ways of becoming independent. And becoming an adult shouldn’t mean losing the sense of who you are.

“You stopped using the music you had set up for that word you know right?” Anxiety asks Thomas with a rather snarky tone in his voice before he continues to lightly nibble on his chocolate.

Patton: Of course not! You can still be a kid at heart, just learn about the world around you, as well as skills that will help you and others.

Thomas: And learning to become an adult is not a race! So, no pressure in figuring it all out.

Patton: That’s right! But you Thomas… You should learn how to cook.

Thomas: Got it!

Patton: And remember… you’re a real pizza work. Because you like pizza…

Thomas: Got it, yeah.

Patton: Ta-ta. I wish you the best of luck in your adultery. (sinks down)

Thomas: That’s not… okay… Well! As I go and attempt to learn something new, I hope that you all have the opportunity to do the same. And until next time, take it easy guys, gals, and non-binary pals! PEACE OUT!

“I would say that this is over but I know we have the end card to watch.” Anxiety mumbles around his chocolate in the hopes that no one heard him and from the looks of it that no one did.

Scene: End card

Thomas: Hey.

Stove: Uh, hey.

Thomas: So, I was thinking…

Stove: Yeah?

Thomas: Thanksgiving is coming up, and I wondered if maybe…

Stove: Yeah?

Thomas: We could rekindle our friendship?

Stove: Aww. Let’s start with you rekindling a fire on this stove buddy!

“There is nothing to be nervous about with learning to cook, Thomas!” Roman says with a smile on his face that is directed towards Thomas who returns it with a small one.

“Thanks for those encouraging words Roman.” Thomas says as Logan and Patton both nod.

Thomas: You got it! (laughs)

Stove: That’s a… uh… plastic plate.

Thomas: Oh… um.

Stove: You know you can’t put that on me, right?

Thomas: Oh yeah, sure. Mmhmm… I knew.

Stove: I’m scared.

Thomas: Me too.

END.

“Well that was the second video only a few more to go until we have finished them all.” Patton says with a large smile on his face as he looks around the room at the others with him.

“You have that right Patton… I just wonder why the fan had wanted us to watch these videos to begin with.” Roman and Logic both wonder out loud at the same time without realising it.

‘Besides the fact that they wanted us all to learn things about each other that we didn’t know already…’ Patton thinks to himself with a soft sigh as he watches the others around him.

[theliterateape]

On Birthday 41 and the Things I’ve Learned

By David Himmel

Chicago, May 26, 2020, 3:26 a.m.

One of my favorite birthdays was my Jesus Birthday, the year I turned thirty-three. I’m not talking about the entire year, although, it was a great one with some pretty big moments, most impactfully, meeting my wife and harnessing my messianic powers—granted to all who turn thirty-three for the entirety of that year. (In 2012, there wasn’t a cave anywhere in the world that could hold me.) I’m talking about the actual day, May 26, 2012. I don’t remember the whole day, but I remember what must be the most important part.

I woke up early. Pre-dawn. I sat down at the keyboard in the office of the apartment I shared with no one else and I wrote for a few hours. On that day, the song “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen was spraying glittery rainbows all over the airwaves, and stomping through YouTube with its almost endless parodies, amateur dance party videos, and covers. I had just downloaded the tune and that early birthday morning, I listened to “Call Me Maybe” on repeat for four hours straight. That means I listened to that song nearly seventy-three times in a row. By the time the sun was up, I still wasn’t tired of it.

Here’s why that birthday was so great: It was near perfect. I was productive on the keyboard, I was up early, and I was listening to the most incredible sugary earworm I have probably ever heard. But I had long known that those three things make me a happy boy. And that’s why I find myself doing something similar today. Eight years later.

Some things don’t change. We are creatures of habit. But we’re also creatures of evolution, and while basking in the happiness that familiarity brings, we also find ourselves on our birthdays with a heart and a brain full of things learned. So, taking my inspiration from a Don Hall tradition of recounting those things leaned in the past year, here’s the short list of what my forty-first trip around the Sun has revealed to me. 

Forty wasn’t scary, but inching past it is We make a big deal of turning forty. It’s over the hill. It’s when our bodies start to lean into their decline. Turning forty didn’t scare me. Just a few weeks shy of my thirty-fifth birthday, I underwent surgery on my face to remove skin cancer. I was dating the woman who would become my wife then. We rented a small Wisconsin lake house for the birthday weekend and on the morning of May 26, I woke up early—as I’m wont to do—and stared long and hard at my freshly scarred face in the mirror. I came to terms with my age and mortality there. I think most people have that quiet conversation with themselves at forty. For me, turning forty was a breeze. It was only slightly more remarkable than any other birthday. But as I crept closer to forty-one this year, I learned that aging past forty is scary.

And now I’m here. And I feel fine. But, inching past forty is, from my perspective, means no longer heading toward opportunity, but to memory. There’s a pretty good chance that the majority of my dangerous, envelope pushing, law bending adventures are behind me. I’m no longer a full tank of gas with the open road laid out before me. I’ve got half a tank and pretty soon, I’ll need to start looking for a place to pull off and ditch this old hunk junk. But I still have a lot of places to go, things to see, stuff to do before that needle hits E and my maker calls me into his office. 

I’m more afraid than I used to be I’m afraid of good health failing. Not just mine, but that of my wife, my son, my dog, my parents, my in-laws, my brothers and their wives, my friends… None of this health fear is related to COVID-19. That, while a major concern, is the least of them. This is the worry of a man who appreciates all that is good.

I’m afraid of being mediocre. Of being unimpactful and ineffective. Have I impressed all I will impress? Have I done my best work? Am I out of ideas and the energy to come up with new ones? Do I still have time to impress myself? This has always been a concern, but I’ve never been afraid of it becoming a reality. Until now.

I’m afraid of being depressed. Not because I’m afraid of being sad. We all know depression is more than sadness. I’m afraid that the brain numbing and lethargy that comes with depression will become unshakable. Sadness passes, lethargy is a big, fat, couch-hogging motherfucker that can be almost impossible to get out of the house. It always claims squatter’s rights, and over forty, I’m at risk of pulling or breaking something by trying to push it out. 

I am not as strong as I thought I was I don’t know if this has as much to do with age as it does with cockiness. I thought I could hop up after twentysomething years of not running long distance and—boom—run a marathon. It wasn’t easy, which I didn’t think it would be, but I also didn’t think that my body would be so ill prepared that I’d end up breaking my leg just two weeks before Race Day. Do I need to take it easy? No. I need to take training seriously and never forget that practice is incremental and paramount. 

Quiet solitude is a need to have, not a nice to have No TV. No scrolling through the phone. Not even any music. That includes Carly Rae. I need to take time to be quiet, calm, still. What is that Thompson wrote in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: “Be quiet, be calm, say nothing…” Yeah, he was talking himself out of having a psychedelic meltdown, but the advice is good for those of us whose brains are easily overwhelmed with the everyday. For those of us whose ideas bound about like bunny rabbits on cocaine searching for a spilled can of Red Bull to lap up.

When I was younger, before I had cable TV and a phone with Facebook, the internet, and solitaire, I could easily sit down with myself, sometimes with a pen and notebook, and just be. Think. Tune out the world and let my mind go wherever. It’s a form of meditation. I learned the importance of seizing quiet solitude way back in my late teens, but this year has shown me how absolutely imperative it is.

Speaking of…

I really miss being a kid Or really, I miss being around me as a kid. This has been a theme for a little over a year. It’s been discussed at length on The Literate ApeCast and I’ve been working on a book dealing with time and nostalgia. But it’s more than just nostalgia for me. Watching my son grow, it’s hard not to think about what things were like for me and my wife at that age. How can we be great parents based on what we learn from history? We talk to our parents about it a lot. At least, I do.

In many ways, we miss out on our own lives because we’re only getting one half of that experience. So, I don’t want to be a kid again as much as I want to spend time with myself as a kid. Ages twenty-one on down to one. I want to know what I was like back then, what it was like to know me. If I could do that, I don’t think I’d be so scared, as mentioned above, because I’d have a clearer picture of things. And it’s always better to venture ahead when you know where you came from.

But since this is an impossible feat, I’ll have to make a point to go back and read all my old writings. I’ve been teased for my record keeping, but it just might save my forties. 

I can live in filth The best part about living alone is that every mess is yours. The only person who can dirty up the kitchen you just cleaned is you. The only shoes you have to pick up are yours. The only ass you have to wipe is yours. Since moving in with Katie, and the dog, and having the kid, my worst fear have come to light: my home is in a constant state of dusty disarray. I tried to keep up, even stay ahead of the untidiness, but, I gave in. I no longer do a deep clean of every room and surface weekly. The only object with more dust on it than the TV stand is the vacuum. Does it bother me? Of course. Should I make better attempts to stay on top of things? Yes. Should I hate myself and be angry at the wife, dog, and kid when I don’t scrub and organize on a weekly basis? No. Because I’ll be fine. I’ll live. Not as well as I’d like to, but I’ll live. And if skipping the deep clean means I can spend more time playing with my son and that the dog doesn’t lose her goddamn mind barking at the vacuum, then that’s just fine. For now.

If I had been born a girl, my parents would have named me Katherine Funny because that’s my wife’s name. My mom told me this just a few days ago. It warmed my heart when she said, “But, in a way, we got a Katherine after all.”

I can grow a beard Thank God for this quarantine. I never would have let the thing go without the safety of Zoom and FaceTime calls. They allowed me to grow through the patchy and settle on whatever this is. It’s not the best beard, but I’ve seen worse. It took a good two and a half months to get to the point where I could start saying, “I have a beard.” If I were a Guess Who character, and the question was, “Does your person have a beard?” one would be required to answer, “Yes.” There’s no denying it. I really never thought I could, and I probably wouldn’t have ever attempted. But these computer cameras seem to make all of our physical imperfections disappear. Not sure how long I’ll keep it. Not sure I don’t look like a 1980s action movie uncredited terrorist. Not sure I don’t look extra Jewish now. No matter. These are unprecedented times and this is an unprecedented beard.

The past year has had its hardships and its big wins. I won’t complain. The year was full of life, which is all I’ve ever wanted out of my years.

[thisisabouta]

This is About a... Double Standard.

Sometimes I think about a situation so intensely but get absolutely nowhere in my search for clarity or reasoning and other times, it takes a few minutes but there it appears- the fucking light turns on. I’ve walked into an extremely frustrating situation that is very difficult to manage. I lived at home for a long time. I moved out for the first time when I was 22 or 23. I moved to California for 9 months and was tested in every way possible. I shared a room with my cousin for a few months when I first got there and it was tolerable. That living arrangement completely fell apart and I moved in with my guy best friend who was staying in a house with 7 other people.

I slept on a blow up mattress in his room although I’m sure he wouldn’t have bothered him at all if I slept in the bed with him. That was s difficult friendship to navigate. Nonetheless, my habits remained the same. I went to work, came home and stayed to myself in our room. I came out and talked to the other roommates occasionally, there was one who I was briefly involved with, but engaging with them was nowhere near a priority. I ended up moving out of that house with my best friend and we got a two bedroom apartment together.

Everything was fine, until it wasn’t. We hung out every now and then but he was always bringing weird, extremely sketchy people over who made me uncomfortable and putting us both in very dangerous situations so due to that and my own habits, I chose to stay to myself. Him being frustrated that I was distancing myself and a drug fueled death threat caused me to move in with complete strangers whom I met on Craigslist. A married couple with two kids and a lot of empty rooms in a suspiciously empty house. I talked to the wife on the phone long enough to feel comfortable with going over and viewing the house. It seemed fine and she wasn’t asking for a security deposit so I moved in. There was no tv in my room or the living room and I didn’t have a computer so I spent ALOT of time in my room, playing solitaire on my ipod. This is also when I discovered the author Kay Redfield Jamison. Changed my life but that’s another story.

As it turned out, her husband also had a problem with me distancing myself. He sat and talked with me one evening after I went in the kitchen to get some food (and when it was way too late for us to be talking) and talked to me about how I should be more social and come out hang out with them. I tried doing that a few nights later and I ended up spending most of the night in the kitchen talking to his wife about her ex boyfriend and how much she missed him and how he was “the one who got away.” Her husband was probably two feet away the entire time. That was a failed experiment.

They ended up exposing themselves as terrible people and we all got evicted because they didn’t have enough money to pay their bills despite moving 3 more people into their house. No, they graciously didn’t ask for a security deposit in the beginning but they did ask for it later on, with no notice and they also asked for my rent early so they could pay off some credit cards. When they moved to a hotel and brought all of their tenants with them so they could transition into their new house, they left me behind like a stray dog because her husband “couldn’t understand my personality and maybe I should’ve hung out with them more.” I was homeless for three days.

Fast forward to moving in with my last LA roommate. He was this chill, mexican guy who I got along with at first but he was too OCD and we shared a kitchen and a bathroom. Not a good combination. We went out to a club together once and had dinner together a couple times. I stayed to myself still (the whole situation was obviously awkward) but he didn’t care as much as my roommates before him. That situation soured and I moved back to Washington. I moved back in with my mother who knew I liked to be left alone. I was back in my natural habitat but living with her was also still a terrible idea. I ended up moving in with a friend of a friend. We agreed upon fairly cheap rent and when they had parties, I would keep to myself in my room.

Again, they had a problem with that. I don’t know exactly what the issue was and still don’t. It could’ve been the lack of socializing and some other shit but I’m beyond caring when it comes to that. Our mutual friend ended up moving in also and sleeping out on the couch with her boyfriend. There was also another boyfriend and five children under the age of seven living there. Not even a remotely comfortable situation for me to be in. I kept to myself as much as possible because of my own personal issues and I was being paid to basically babysit her kids although if I was in a good mood, I would take care of them on short notice and pick them up from school. Our mutual friend moving in didn’t change anything for me or make me more comfortable. I still isolated and it bothered her but we never talked about it.

I ended up moving back in with my mother and then getting my own apartment once her husband told me I had to move out. In their house, I went out of my way to not spend any time anywhere but my room and thankfully, I had my own bathroom. His issues were me not contributing to groceries although the ONLY times I ate there was when my Grandmother cooked and I literally couldn’t decline because she would be offended (real thing), how I didn’t sweep or vacuum (areas of the house that I didn’t use) and that I didn’t get up to answer the door when the doorbell rang despite him being perfectly capable to do so. I was also on a new med cocktail at the time so got 99% of theses incidents, I was knocked the fuck out and didn’t even hear the doorbell ring. Obviously, that didn’t fucking matter.

I got my own place finally and it was amazing. I loved, well... I loved the inside of my apartment and I was comfortable there and there was no one to bother me. I could just be left alone. After a year there, I happily moved to Seattle. I had my own place for two years which was also great but of course all good things must come to an end. There was only one instance where I was really scared about getting my rent paid on time but for the most part, I was handling it. There were nights that I was lonely and I had people over occasionally but it was on my terms. That’s how I always need things to be.

Fast forward to present day and I currently have a roommate. I knew she’d be someone I could live with but I had to have a talk with her prior to all of this. I explained to her that I’ve had problems with all of my roommates before her, along with my mother. A small number of these people didn’t mind that I isolated but there was a larger number of people who had a serious problem with it. I let her know that that’s how I choose to live and I asked her if she was sure that she wanted to live with me. She also knows about a majority of the aforementioned scenarios. I told her that I was more than likely going to do the same thing and here I am, doing the exact same thing and again, it’s a fucking problem.

Now this isn’t even about me isolating. I’m sure I don’t come off as a great person but I have my reasons for doing what I do and with my mind state, I don’t feel like I should have to justify that to anyone unless I care to do so and if I’m paying my rent on time, I should live however the fuck I want. Period. No, this is about an expectation. If I tell someone my reasoning behind my actions, that’s it. You don’t have to agree with it but you will respect it if I’m holding up my end of the deal which I have done in every last one of these situations. I have been having terrible day after terrible day and when I get home, I don’t want to talk about it. If I come to a place where I do want to talk about it, I will but I do not want to feel cornered or interrogated. If this felt more like a naturally occurring situation and less like an ambush, I probably wouldn’t be as hesitant but that’s not what’s happening. I have a way of doing things and it’s kept me alive this far. I don’t need anyone coming in and throwing me off track and despite it seeming like these people are just trying to help me, they’re not.

This is also about a double standard. At this point in my life, I can’t count how many times i’ve been in a situation where a guy has told me that he’s “not ready for a relationship”. Granted I know in most of these cases, it means he’s just not ready for a relationship with ME personally but the idea behind it still applies. I’ve spent a majority of my dating life dealing with this and I’ve never let it go without a fight. Why would I? If a guy tells me that he’s not ready for a relationship, naturally that means that I need to be the one to change his mind or I need to stick the shit out because he will of course wake up one day, turn and look at me and realize that i’m the one. Even after the guy I lost my virginity to told me that he “couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life with me”, I swore he was blind and was going to change his mind eventually. He didn’t.

I currently have a guy in my life who is slipping away and I finally came to the realization that I have to let that happen. There are people who are worth fighting for and then there’s just plain fucking ignorance. I’ve been so frustrated and playing the conversation I had with my roommate in my head over and over again, trying to understand why she is basically completely ignoring me telling her what the fuck is up and how she’s not going to get the attention that she needs from me. We also had a conversation months prior to this about our friendship and me telling her that I’ve been fucking run dry with drama and bullshit and I don’t have anything to give anyone right now. I don’t know when I will.

The fucking light turned on. Me sitting there and telling her exactly what the situation is and all of these guys being straightforward with me and again, telling me exactly what the situation is are basically the same thing. I never wanted to accept it and now i’m in a situation where the tables have turned and I’m the one being misunderstood. The last boy who I actually wanted/want to be in a relationship with told me before we had sex for the first time that he didn’t want a relationship. He claims he doesn’t want to “put his problems on someone else”. Whether that’s bullshit or not is besides the point. He literally told me what he doesn’t want, I still had sex with him knowing I wasn’t going to be 100% ok with that and now here I am, pissed off that he doesn’t want to be with me.

The door has been blown off the fucking hinges. I can’t say that I’m completely in a mans mindset cause i’ll never know exactly how the male mind works but this shit is so obvious, it’s scary. How in the hell am I going to tell someone my boundaries, my limits, what I don’t want and how I am but then turn around and have a man do the same thing all while planning my procedure on completely changing him. Whether it’s smoke and mirrors or the absolute truth, I should take it for face value. If I’m going to expect someone to respect what I say and not try to change me then I also need to learn how to leave well enough alone. I wish my friends would do the same.

[thedesperatehousehusband]

The (Un)Friendly Skies

Sometimes people you encounter while traveling are real, real, really, really, super, duper special. And not in a good way. I’ve had a couple of recent encounters. I’ll regale you with one of them here. Then share two other tales later.

Last week, I had to go to Atlanta for market research. We frequently fly through Atlanta but I rarely leave the airport. This time I left the airport. Boy, is traffic a fucking nightmare in Atlanta. It’s next level. Our 13-mile trip from the market research facility to the airport took damn near 90 minutes. And that Hartsfield Jackson International Airstrip and Bait Shop is a diabolical hell hole. Even the pre-check line took 25 minutes. MAMMA MIA! I deserve better.

When I got on the plane, I sat in a row of three. I was on the aisle. A woman who had recent celebrated her 106th birthday was on the window. A sweet yet ultimately blindsided woman sat in the middle seat. I came to learn that the ancient woman was named Camille. Camille left a voicemail for someone as she was sitting on the plane and said her name. I like to know people’s names. It makes for better stories later. However, I never learned the name of the woman in the middle eat but she looked like a Linda so we’re going to go with that. Though I really should have asked because “Linda” and I shared a LOT over the short flight. Camille was very restless and I could tell that Linda was concerned but also annoyed. As soon as we took off, Camille slumped over as if she had passed out. Linda said “Are you alright? Do you need help?” Camille mustered up the energy to say that she was having “low blood sugar” and needed something to eat. At this point we are literally about 6 inches off the ground and Camille wants Linda to push the call button. Linda obliges. I continue to play solitaire on my phone. I want no part of this shit. The flight attendants are not allowed up and about yet so no one comes and Camille is getting agitated. Finally a flight attendant comes to the row. I will call him Charles Nelson Reilly because he looked very, very much like the late great comedian and was possibly the earthly reincarnation of everyone’s favorite Match Game celeb.

Charles and Camille had apparently already been involved in a tussle as Camille boarded the plane. Camille told Charles she was having “low blood sugar” but said that she had food in her bag. But then she didn’t actually take the food out of her bag. So when Charles came to our row, Camille asked for food but Charles said “I thought you had something with you.” To which Camille responded back in a tone that I would define as belligerent “It’s in my bag. I am sick. I need something to eat. Bring me some cookies.” So Charles walked away and came back with some Biscoff.

Then the flight attendants began the beverage service. Charles and whoever else was him on the cart were about three rows away from us. Camille explained to Linda that she needed more to eat, something to drink and a barf bag. Linda said that the cart was very close but Camille was having NONE OF IT. She implored Linda to push the button. So Charles Nelson Reilly came back to our row with an expression on his face that could only be described as resting bitch face with a healthy dose of exasperated constipation. He had had it with Camille. She barked “I need more cookies. I need a ginger ale. The WHOLE can of ginger ale. And a bag. I am going to get sick.” Charles basically asked her to be polite but she just kept repeating. “I am sick.” “I am sick.” I would also add crazy. Charles Nelson Reilly came back to the row gave her what she wanted and then want back to other passengers. When he got to our row again to get something for Linda and me, he first asked Camille if there were any other emergencies he could help with. I laughed at that one. I then ordered a white wine. Charles Nelson Reilly gave me the wine and said “It’s on me.”

Now mind you, it is a 60-minute flight from Atlanta to Indianapolis. That’s a lot of bullshit to go on in a 60 minute flight. There’s less drama on an episode of Riverdale. Though Camille was nowhere near as attractive as the cast of that show. That KJ Apa? Hubba hubba…….apropos of nothing.

Camille seemed to finally have her shit together and did not make any additional requests the rest of the flight.

Linda whispered to me as we were landing that she should have had a wine as well. To which I said “You sure should have. This has been a lot.” To which Linda said “Mmmmm hmmmm.” To which I said “I heard that.”

As I exited the plane, Charles Nelson Reilly was at the exit door. I said “Thanks for how well you handled 19E. She was very special.” Charles just cackled. Just like the real Charles.

[canaryatlaw]

Currently sitting in the back of an uber and typing this now because I'm unbelievably tired and when I get home I'm just going to bed. Today was a travel nightmare. My flight was supposed to take off at 6:50 pm. But there was thunder lightning, so it took off at 1 am, a full 6 hours late. And of course it ended up that I'd gotten to the terminal absurdly early, through no fault of my own, so I'd been sitting there since 4 pm. It's now 2:22 am Chicago time (extra hour in there) and I'm hoping I'll get home by 3 am. I'm supposed to go to a conference for student leadership in the morning but my resolve is wavering steadfastly, despite assuring people that I would in fact be there. I'm just so fucking tired and I want to sleep forever and ever (not in a suicidal way just in a really fucking tired way). But I guess I should recount what actually took place today for this post. I got up around noon, I think, which means I shouldn't be this absurdly tired but I am so fuck everything! Lol. The plan was to meet my dad for lunch by his office and then continue on to the airport. So I collect my various possessions and throw them all in my southwest duffel bag that is now permanently stained NyQuil blue(TM) (I mean it was already blue, now it's just NyQuil blue) and we left at the house at like 12:45 (we being my sister, my mother and I). We met my dad at a restaurant by his office, Italian of course, and a long time favorite. I got veal parmigiana because what the hell I felt like it. The meal was good, I probed my dad a bit about to what extent does his loyalty to Trump lie because I've been concerned about some of his statements regarding people who have criticized him which led me to believe he might be in the Trump can do no wrong lane, which would concern me greatly, but he assured me that was not the case and he does have many objections with what is currently going on so that helped. He has a radio spot on a Christian radio station every Friday morning so he was saying how he talked about Charlottesville and everything and said that the monuments should come down as we need to condemn nazism in the strongest terms, even saying his father went to war against these people. So that was comforting. But yeah, meal was good, and afterwards my mom drove me to the airport (my sister went with my dad back to his office to be dropped at someone else's house at some point). My mom only got a little lost, and it was easily correctable by gps so I'll call that a win (my parents have zero sense of direction. zero). Got dropped off, there was a bit of a line but I guess since I was traveling alone I got fast tracked through the lanes and wound up at the gate by 4. So I went on my laptop for a little until my complimentary 30 minutes of wifi was up (unlike midway, laguardia does not allow unlimited complimentary 30 minute wifi sessions) and then listened to podcasts, colored, played games on my phone, and did literally anything else I could think of while I had to sit and wait for this goddamn plane, which was promised to us so many times, but was then moved justttttt that much further away until its 1 fucking am by the time we taxi off. We were on the plane and mostly ready to go by like 12:15, but their system was down and they couldn't scan the digital boarding passes, so they had to verify everyone's identity manually, and told us not to worry because there was a line to take off *anyway*. But eventually we made it out of there, I listened to more podcasts and played solitaire and pretended to sleep while knowing I'd never actually fall asleep like that, until we got here, at which point I got my back and I got in a fucking uber and here I am, and god am I exhausted. It's 2:36 am now, we're at least on the northside, so that's good. I'm gonna feel shitty probably shirking off my duties tomorrow, but it'll feel less shitty than actually getting up and doing them (how's that rationalization for ya?). Either way I doubt I'll find the willpower to actually get out of bed for a good chunk of time, and I think that's deserved at least. I'll figure out what I'm gonna say to everyone tomorrow, hopefully they'll be understanding of the hell I just went through (god I hope so). Anyway. Guess I'm signing off now. My head hurts and I want to sleep. Goodnight folks. Hope you had a better Friday night than I did.