#need to remember that people in my life wont always provide the joy

[strawberri-syrup]

this december i am going to fight TOOTH AND NAIL to feel holiday joy!!!!!!!!!!! too many times i have WALLOWED all month and been SAD when i could have been TRYING to be HAPPIER

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.6

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: i’ve had mixed feelings about the tumblr fic community as of late :/ but heres something to read🥺

-

Holding the boy’s pinky in your own, you stare once more at his drawing of you with your guitar and flower crown—a superhero to those whom you shared your music with.

No. Your music hasn’t saved anyone. You’ve never been a hero to anyone. If anything, you’re the one who needs to be saved. You’d always thought you could grow strong enough to save yourself if you just closed yourself off from the world and did everything on your own. But in the end, that only seemed to hurt you more.

You should’ve known. It’s okay to ask for help, to reach out, to let him in.

“A few years ago, I had a thought. It wasn’t a very smart thought, but I decided I wanted to share part of myself with the world. I thought about the different ways I could go about that, but the way that made the most sense for me was music,” you say, finally letting go of Jungkook’s pinky and making yourself awfully comfortable on a bed that doesn’t belong to you. “So I auditioned for Polar Entertainment. Not to be an idol, but to be a songwriter.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but he nods as if it’s not a shock to him, as if he saw it as “a Y/N thing to do.” At the same time, his gentle eyes wait for you to continue, curious to know what’ll happen next.

“Do you remember the song you heard me singing the other day in the music room?”

Jungkook cracks a smirk and starts singing your song word for word in a surprisingly in-tune whisper. Oh, he remembers it alright, and he’ll apparently never let you live it down. He doesn’t stop until you throw one of the balled-up blankets at his face.

“That was the first time I picked up my guitar and sang that song since being rejected at the audition.”

“I can imagine how scarring that would be. Rejection,” he shudders at the word, though you’re sure he knows little about the feeling with art skills as professional as his. “They really didn’t like you though?”

“They liked certain parts of me.” Your vocals, your beauty, your body. “But not the ones that mattered.” Your music, your creativity, your personality. You.

“That’s their loss,” Jungkook says in the midst of a yawn, practically inaudible. But you heard him.

“Maybe they had a point,” you say, looking up at the ceiling. “Because when I look back to that time, it was quite foolish of me to believe my music would reach anyone when it came from a place of desperation, not my heart. The song was a plea for help, not one that would save others.”

“What made you suddenly sing it again after all this time?”

You grab hold of the boy’s hand and form yet another pinky promise. “Promise you won’t laugh at me for my reason.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he says with the straightest face. He’s ready to burst out laughing again and you know it.

“Then I won’t tell you.” With a hmph, you bury yourself under the fluffiest blanket. You wonder how he would’ve reacted if you told him it was that dang jk.seagull and his fanfic that gave you the courage to sing again, to go back to your roots, to follow your love of creating music. It’d obviously sound ridiculous to admit it out loud, but the joy you feel from reading Witch Hazel is what reminds you of the very thing you want to provide others with—happiness.

And that’s perhaps all the encouragement you needed to start sharing your music again.

“I won’t tell you what it was exactly that made me do it, but I’ll tell you why,” you peek your head back out of the blankets to see the boy still waiting patiently for an answer. “I wanted to move on… from the failure I faced that day. That way, I can finally become that superhero you speak of.”

You place the drawing of your superhero self onto the nightstand so that it doesn’t get crinkled up on the bed. No, she’s not a superhero yet. But she will be someday.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You better not tell anyone,” you remind him. “This isn’t something I share with other people. Ever.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he assures you, with not only his words but also his warmth.

“Good.” You smile whilst closing your eyes. You meant to tell him that he could confide in you too, but the warmth pulls you into a deep slumber before you could do so.

-

It’s been a minute since you’ve awoken in someone else’s bed, though this is the first time you aren’t all wrapped up in their embrace. Rather, half the boy’s body is hanging off the side of the bed for dear life while you’re right smack in the middle, all bundled up in one of the blankets.

If you wanted to, you could push him over the edge with the tiniest tap of your foot—that’s how close he is to falling. But as tempting as it would be to get even with the boy who teases you to no end, you opt to quietly check your phone without disturbing him.

To your surprise, you have two new notifications: a text from Seokjin earlier this morning and a late-night update from jk.seagull posted sometime after you had passed out. You’ve always been the type to take care of work obligations before indulging in guilty pleasures, so you open Seokjin’s text first.

6:04AM jinnie “so jimin’s manager reached out to me”

6:05AM jinnie “and you want to collab with jimin?”

7:12AM Y/N “oh yeah i asked him to have his manager contact you”

7:13AM Y/N “but i guess i forgot to tell you LOL”

It’s not that you forgot. You were just hesitant to tell your manager about it yourself. Because if possible, you’d like to minimize your own company’s involvement in this top-secret scheme of yours.

7:15AM jinnie “are you up to something?”

7:15AM Y/N “mayhaps”

7:16AM Y/N “but dont tell boss lady pls”

7:17AM jinnie “shes going to find out one way or another”

7:19AM Y/N “thats true 🤔 ”

7:20AM Y/N “well tbh knowing her, she’d probably approve of the collab anyway since it should clear up those dating rumors while (hopefully) appealing to jimin’s fanbase”

7:21AM Y/N “just dont tell her the logistics of the collab”

7:21AM jinnie “what are you scheming lmao”

7:22AM Y/N “youll see”

7:22AM jinnie “ 😒 dont get me or yourself in trouble Y/N”

7:23AM Y/N “i wont! i promise! 🥺 ”

7:24AM jinnie “okay fine”

7:25AM jinnie “ill arrange a meeting with jimin and his manager to discuss everything formally”

As you move on to the more exciting notification on your phone, you see that the sleeping Jungkook has slipped several inches closer to falling flat on his face. Maybe you’ll save him from his impending doom. Maybe you won’t. But that’ll have to wait until after you see what jk.seagull had to say on his blog.

“do you ever think back to that one time in math camp when a little girl screamed in your face that she hated math and wanted to become a musician instead? apparently she somehow confused ‘musician’ with ‘mathematician’ LMAO”

You aren’t sure what provoked the silly seagull guy to share such a random thought, but you do get a good laugh out of it. After all, you can totally relate as someone who went to math camp one summer despite knowing in your heart what you truly wanted to do-

Wait.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed, half-urgent tone, though calling his name wouldn’t be what actually wakes him from his slumber. “I think I know who the seagull guy is.”

Thud. You swear on your life you didn’t lay a finger on the boy when he fell, despite all the devilish thoughts you had about it earlier. He fell on his own. You’re innocent. Therefore, you have a right to laugh.

“Are you okay?” you snicker, peering down from the bed at the dazed boy. He might have been the biggest klutz for rolling off the bed and stumbling around to find his glasses, but holy shit. His wild bedhead and scattered blankets across the floor make it seem as though the two of you had a lot more than just an innocent heart-to-heart in his bed last night.

“I’m fine,” he stretches his arms and combs the bedhead out. Yes, he is fine. “But, uhh, what’s this about that seagull guy?”

“I think I know him.” You expect Jungkook to be as excited as you are, but he just seems kind of puzzled—perhaps from his lack of sleep.

“…and how did you come to that conclusion…?” he asks. Or maybe he doesn’t believe you.

“You didn’t see the post! Look at the post.” You join the boy down on the floor and make yourself at home there with your phone and some of the fallen blankets. He leans over your shoulder to read the infamous post you won’t shut up about.

“Math camp?” Jungkook continues to squint at the cryptic message before chuckling. “Also, did that girl seriously confuse musician with mathematician?”

“Stop laughing! That dumbass was me.” Now you wish you had kicked his ass off the bed.

He stops laughing, not because you told him to but because he’s mildly shook. “What?”

You take a deep breath in because you know you’re setting yourself up to be clowned for the rest of your fucking life. “When I was like ten, I told my parents that I wanted to be a mathematician, thinking that word meant musician. So they signed me up for camp that summer.”

“Did you ever stop to think that mathematician has the word math in it and not mu-”

You interrupt the boy’s unwelcomed commentary with an air-punch to his guts before continuing on as if nothing happened. “I was so excited until I got there. It was absolutely mortifying to learn that it was a math camp, not a music camp.”

“I like this story,” he nods with his arms guarding himself in anticipation of another air-jab as you square up.

“Still, I tried to make the best out of the situation since I was actually kind of good at math,” you say. “The camp director even told me I’d make a great math professor one day.”

“I can’t imagine you as a math professor.” He settles down with all the chuckling.

“I couldn’t either, so I ran off to an empty room where I thought I could escape without anyone finding me,” you soften your tone. “But somehow a crying, wandering boy found me.”

“Was it the seagull?”

“Maybe. All I remember was hearing music playing from somewhere outside. I sang along as a way to comfort and distract myself from the whole math situation, but it seemed to cheer up the boy as well.”

“Your voice does have that effect, you know.”

“He told me the same thing.” You can’t help but smile a little at the compliment. “But in that moment, it felt like my dream had a purpose beyond fueling my own desires. And I needed to share it with someone. Anyone.”

“So you shared it with the boy?”

You nod. “I told him my dream was to be a mathematician, but he knew what I meant.”

“Did he at least clown you first?”

“He did. He laughed right in my face, and at first I thought he was a jerk for making fun of my dream. But after he kindly taught me the difference between musician and mathematician, I announced my actual dream to him and him alone.”

“And how’d he respond?”

“He said it was cool beans.”

“He said cool beans?”

“Those were his exact words, yes.”

“And that was it?”

“That’s all I can remember.”

“So you don’t even remember his name or anything?”

“We never introduced ourselves,” you shake your head. “I don’t remember his face either because it was covered by a hood and long hair.”

“That’s too bad,” Jungkook sighs. “I bet it really was that seagull guy after all.”

“I have a feeling it was him, too.”

It would be nice and awfully romantic if you had somehow crossed paths long ago with the very seagull who continues to inspire your craft with his own. But even if that isn’t the case, you’re content with having that memory and entrusting it with another boy who has done nothing but lift you up.

You lean yourself gently against the Jungkook’s shoulder as you slip your phone back into your pocket, debating on your next course of action. The two of you should be getting ready for class, but that doesn’t sound very appealing. There are other things you’d much rather be doing, like maybe thanking the boy for lending his ear. But for some reason, it’s still difficult for you to say those two simple words of gratitude.

Perhaps it’s difficult because there’s a lot more you’d say than just “thanks man.”

“Can we just cut class and get coffee instead?” Yes, you’ll thank him for his service by treating him to coffee. Unless…? What if this is just your subtle way of asking the boy out on a date? What if he says no because you’ve already spent way too much time with him in the past 24 hours? What if he hates coffee? What if he-

“We should probably go to class to turn in our project, yeah?” Jungkook brings up a good point. But the thing is, you don’t really have your priorities straight at the moment and your mind has only two things consuming it: coffee and boy. “But we can get coffee after class.”

“Ooh, good, because there’s this one coffee shop I want you to try!” You chirp up despite your nonexistent dose of morning caffeine. “It’ll be my treat as thanks for… letting me hog your bed.”

“Oh right... that,” Jungkook hops to his feet and starts tidying up said bed. You help by picking up and folding all of the blankets. “I nearly froze and fell to my death because of that, you know.”

“I saw,” you bite your lip, trying to mask any naughty thoughts that come to mind. Because next time, if there is in fact a next time, you won’t let the boy freeze.

-

By the time art class ends, the weight of the dreaded group project has been lifted and your craving for coffee begins to settle in once more. And apparently, the hunger and excitement is radiating off you because someone has the audacity to make a comment about it.

“Why does your face look like that?” Taehyung teases, but you’re mildly offended.

“Because I’m getting coffee from my favorite café. That’s why,” you hiss but there’s still a hidden glow about you and your excitement. “Coffee is to me as girls are to you, Taehyung.”

“Ooh, speaking of girls, do any cute girls work there?” He strokes his wise man beard. “Maybe I’ll tag along.”

“I don’t fucking know.” And even if you did know, you wouldn’t say yes.

“How boring,” he yawns while nudging the boy next to him. “Hey Jungkook, wanna go on a double date with me? I met a pair of gamer girls, but I don’t know all the nerdy gaming stuff that you know. And think about it, this could be the first time you get laid since-”

“Actually, Jungkook’s getting coffee with me,” you interrupt. And if you had been brave enough to look up at the boy as you spoke, you would have seen the healthy pink radiance on his cheeks.

“Oh, so the two of you are dating all of a sudden?” Taehyung nods, as if he had hit the mark.

Neither you or Jungkook give an immediate answer, probably due to the unspoken yet very apparent shift in dynamics between the two of you as of late. Yes, you’ve developed certain feelings for the boy, but no, you aren’t technically “dating.” You just hope he’s on the same page as you.

“It’s just coffee,” you want to say, but it comes out of Jungkook’s mouth instead. And even though you would’ve said the same exact thing, it hits a little different hearing it from him.

At the same time, coffee is coffee and Jungkook is Jungkook. You need to remind yourself that your craving for coffee with the boy will be satisfied, regardless of whether it’s a date or not. After all, “dating” is not an option for an idol who should only be focusing on her music and fans.

“Which drink would you recommend?” Jungkook asks as you lead him in the direction of the café.

“If you like coffee, all of the drinks are good in my humble opinion,” you say, though you realize you should probably give the boy a few specific suggestions to make his decision a little easier. “You can get a standard mocha or latte if you want something simple. Or, their signature hazelnut coffee is really really good. Or if you want something iced, you should try the cold brew because it’s literally the most refreshing dose of caffeine ever. Oh! But if you’re into something more plant-based, I suggest the maple oat-”

“You’re not narrowing down my options if you recommend the entire menu, Y/N,” the boy chuckles at your coffee enthusiast behavior.

“Well, here’s my thought process: if we go at least once a week after class, you can eventually try every drink on the menu by the end of the school year. Not including all the different types of milk options though.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified that you even bothered to do that calculation.” His eyes are bigger and brighter than the sun. “But that must mean you really like coffee then, huh?”

“Of course! Is that even a question?” The snobby coffee enthusiast jumped out real quick. But even beyond the coffee, you did the calculation to see how long your little coffee not-dates with the boy could last before you have to return to your idol obligations. “You like coffee too, right?”

“Not really,” he sighs. Your jaw drops. Who the does he think he is? “Are there any tea options? Or like a banana milk or something?”

“You can’t just walk into a coffee shop and not order coffee.” Is this guy for real? No, he’s just fucking with you. Probably. “I better start reevaluating who I hang out with,” you say with a sarcastic hmph.

“I’m kidding, kind of.” He doesn’t do a very good job of reassuring you of that. “I like… coffee.”

“That hesitant pause doesn’t sit well with me, Jeon.” You raise an eyebrow at the suspicious boy. It feels nice to tease him for once. “Why are you grabbing coffee with me if you don’t love it?”

“I just curious about this coffee place,” he nudges you, “since someone seems to really enjoy it.”

So it’s because of you…

“Good to know I’ve successfully peer pressured you into consuming caffeine,” you hum, playing it off as if his words weren’t absorbed right into your heart. It was never about coffee.

It’s about you and him.

The thought of that makes your heart scream a little, so you hide your flustered face behind your phone as the two of you approach the coffee shop. You have an unread text from your manager.

2:35PM jinnie “good news”

2:36PM jinnie “i set up a meeting with jimin and his manager in an hour”

You stop in your tracks. That’s not good news. Well actually, it is good for your top secret collab. But the timing of it all is anything but good.

“Are you searching up the menu online? Oh wait, you already have the entire menu memorized from A to Z.” He thinks he’s funny. Now is not the time, Jeon. His teasing smile doesn’t disappear until the distress is written all over your face.

How do you cancel a not-a-date date without a proper explanation? How can you do that to a boy who has only ever done you right? The thing is, you don’t have to hurt him.

You can cancel the meeting, you can bail out on the collab, you can disappear from the idol world altogether if you choose to do so. And if you didn’t want to go that far, you could instead tell the boy of your deepest and darkest secret, of your idol identity, and he would surely understand your reasons for having to leave so suddenly for work.

You could do any of those things, but you decide not to. You won’t allow yourself to make such a rash decision, even if it’s the right one. So you decide to keep the meeting, you decide to keep your idol self hidden in the shadows, and you decide to abandon the boy.

[anthonyo1234]

Life Journal 4

Life as a Hispanic is something that will be told for many generations and it wont stop anytime soon. Everyone will hear many stories about how the Hispanic community has endured and overcome many great challenges and road bumps. And with the internet being a bank of information, it isnt like the stories that have been told will be lost forever. We share many things and that story gets passed around and around until it has reached enough people. While this may not involve the internet, I do remember a story that my mom had told me before about what I did as a little kid back in DR. My dad was in NY when this happened. But, I essentially broke out of my house and wandered the streets looking for my dad. The first time this happened, my mom forgave me because she honestly felt bad. Who wouldnt have their heart strings stretch if they heard that story. But the second time, I got punished for it. Safe to say that it was not one of my bright moments. But, I was a kid. So, I didnt know better. Anyways, Hispanic culture is something that will never die and live on. It is historically engraved into the lives of everyone. Sadly though, a lot of our history lies in darkness. As most people know, Latin America and the Caribbean has been colonized before and a lot of the aftershock of colonization is still being felt today. It also influenced the culture of those places into things that are seen today. But even so, history can be a cruel mistress. I remember one time that my grandmother told me a story about Trujillo. For those that dont know, he was the dictator of the Dominican Republic since the 1930s. His reign ended in 1961, where he was assassinated. During his reign, she has seen many horrors of that man and the many deaths that happened. Trujillo was essentially what would have killed the Dominican Republic if he wasnt killed eventually. She describes those times as hard and nearly impossible. I remember that she said that most houses needed to have a picture of Trujillo in their homes. The authorities would also do as they please. He also just raped women left and right with no care in the world. As my grandmother told me this story, i felt disgusted. How could the island elect such a monster? Turns out, the US placed him there. The US forced DR to place Trujillo i power as a puppet state. Thinking about it now, it makes sense because the US has done stuff like this for many years. And not just in Hispanic countries. The US has placed puppet governments all around the world, essentially shoving its influence down everyone’s throat. Though, some countries denied such thing.  Now, the Dominican Republic is better off. It is actually thriving for the most part. Though, it still has its share of corruption. Moving on, I feel like our way of life is just something that we are proud of. Dominicans are many things. One thing that stands out the most is that we are very prideful. I have not met a Dominican that isnt prideful. Now, that is not to say that Dominicans are the only ones that have the most pride out of all the Hispanic countries. But, they will show their love for their island in a lot of ways too. Having pride for your country is typical of a person born there, It means that they are a true patriot to their country, just like how many US citizens are patriots to the US. We are proud of being Dominicans, and by extension, Hispanic. The reason for that pride is because we have gone through so much historically, economically, racially, etc. Not as much as others though. But, we have had our share of pain. I remember going back to the Dominican Republic a few years back. As we drove through neighborhoods and the outskirts of the city, i noticed that there were houses that looked inspired by English designs. You can see that there are some parts of the structure that is directly influenced by modern design and old school as well. Some houses are one floored establishments and some are two floors. If i am being honest, I love the designs of these houses because they are basic in nature. They are big enough for a family to do what they need to do and they also have another purpose. Because DR is near the equator, the island can get extremely hot and humid. If there was building that were created like the ones in NY, people will suffocate. So, they were built big in order to allow air to circulate through the house and dissipate the heat or cool air elsewhere.  But for someone to even create such a thing, they would have had to have gotten some sort of education on the arts and construction. Unlike in the US, who have a lot of schools that teach students how to be an engineer, the people of DR, have to find their own way of teaching themselves how to do things. And man, are they damn good at it too. Most of the constructed buildings are done by people that have not gone to school. At least, buildings that are not high rises or important buildings, Those are mostly reserved for those that actually have gone to school and are qualified. Speaking of schools, I have had many good and many bad memories of school in the island. There was one time that I was just playing with a friend of mine at the time. We sadly disappeared from each other’s lifes after we passed third grade. It was at that time when I moved to the US. Anyways, we were playing when these bullies came up and did their bullying. Most kids just let it happen. But, I didnt. I was one of the rare few that would fight back. But because they were bigger than me, there would be no way I would win should the fights be prolonged. But it was around that a teacher would come and separate us. And the good part? I never got in trouble for that. They knew that I was a reserved (still am) kid and always kept to myself. The teachers felt that they wont see me as a trouble maker. And they were right.  I have always felt that life as a Hispanic person has always been something that I find pride and joy with. The reason for that is because I am part of a culture that can have a direct influence on the happenings of America. We fought to have the same opportunities as those that are citizens while some of us were either immigrants or undocumented. Though, we can all agree that those that are undocumented are the ones that are fighting a lot more than the rest of us. They want to make sure that they can have a future and also provide a future for their kids. It is important that there are opportunities for us all because that is how we can succeed. Sadly, the US has made things a little tough for us to get the same opportunities. A lot of businesses dont like the idea of Hispanics being part of their team. While others welcomes them with open arms. Hell, a Hispanic person might even create their own business if they play their cards right. And that is what makes us special. We deal with what we got and make it work. Eventually, we can even win with the cards that we are dealt with. 

[prosenkhans]

Kobe

And they were going to a youth basketball tournament. 

Just think about that for a second. When we distill what actually happened yesterday to its essence, it was a group of parents and coaches bringing their young girls to an organized youth basketball game on a nondescript Sunday morning in January. There is nothing more vanilla than that. Then it ended. Just so suddenly.

I can online imagine the fear those 3 girls had in that chopper in its final moments, the bargaining that went on within the minds of those parents as that hillside emerged from the morning fog. I am not lucky, blessed, or even really deserving enough to know the joy of parenthood. However, even the least empathetic of individuals would be hard pressed to deny that Kobe was utterly in love with his family, and Gianna to her father. All the videos, the images, and interactions caught for celluloid and digital posterity, all of them showed a family deeply appreciative of one another. Beyond all things, that seems to drive this feeling of devastation further up my throat.

The level of tragedy is defined by the amount of potential lost within such an event. 

That fact that Gianna and her friends were 12 and 13 is more than enough to gut most people with a soul, however, the potential lost goes beyond even that. He seemed happy. Genuinely. Kobe seemed happy in what was in store for the rest of his life, his “second act”. The stone cold competitor with the icy scowl and bared teeth had transitioned into a statesman, an ever present and positive force within the game of basketball. Where once there were thorns, we now saw the pedals of the rose. Hugs and high fives. Congratulations and teachings. Puppets and children’s book. What we saw was a man secure in his legacy, and very much looking forward to the next chapter of his story.

But that story ended before the sequel could truly begin. As a group of people very much looking to see how the story would continue, we are left to wonder about what those potential chapters would have said. How would he have spoken during his Hall of Fame speech? Would he talk shit, or be humble? What number would be on his chest when his statue would be unveiled? Would he demand 2 to Shaq’s 1? Would we be lucky enough to be in the building when he and Gianna would sit courtside at a game? Would he still allow us to show him appreciation and stand an acknowledge the cheers? Would he be embarrassed by the continued adulation? Would we see him at UConn games, or maybe in an Oregon sweater? Would he be a leading voice in promotion of female athletics and the WNBA? Would he still allow us a peek in his mind, dissecting basketball games for public consumption? Would he write the stories that he wanted to tell? Would he make more art? Would he go on Kimmel and talk smack about the current stars of the game? Would he still smile and wave and take a selfie with us if we were oh so lucky to meet him? Would he continue to push us to be better? These are all questions in which we will never get an answer. 

The hero’s journey is not supposed to end like this. The hero fights the good fight, gives all he/she can give, and then ride off into the sunset. 

And I use the word here appropriately in this case. No, not a hero in the sense of how your parents and role models should hopefully provide the “hero” role in one’s life. No. Kobe Bryant was a hero in the sense that Superman is a hero to anyone that paid attention to his exploits. To my generation, a group of kids and adolescents that grew up watching him, Kobe is as much of a hero to us as Batman, Wolverine, and anyone else that wore a color coordinated uniform. He was an individual blessed with glorious purpose, a res on detra. And what made it better was that he was real. Real in the sense that we could actual see him be super, see him share his gifts, in real life, gallantry made flesh. What makes a superhero super anyway? Simple. Belief. We believe that when they dawn that cape, put on that cowl, they will be there to ensure everything is all-right. That everything gets the ending that we the masses so badly want. That they will come through when we need them the most. When Kobe put on that purple and gold tunic, he became our superhero. He gave us that belief, that sense of the universe being set right because he was our guy, and he would make it so. With him gone, it just doesn’t feel the same. 

I’ve been asked through the years on why Kobe holds such esteem in certain pockets of our culture. Every time someone asks me that question, I always think back to the quote from Norman Vincent Peale.

“Aim for the Moon, and you’ll still land among the stars.”

Within the fast majority of the collective consciousness of sports fan, there is one name that is always associated with Kobe Bryant. And that is Michael Jordan. Now I was lucky enough to have watched Jordan as a very young kid, fully appreciating the skill and special athlete I was observing. There is no denying of that. However, Kobe was different. Coming in during Jordan’s waning years, Jordan and Kobe never clashed at their individual apexes. A spry and almost cocky kid, you were drawn to him. He was just a few years older than I, and thus making him a huge part of those who would call themselves a millennial. While Jordan was seen as God upon high, the antecedent ruler of the NBA, Kobe quickly became the scrappy upstart. As the years went by, we were able to follow him on his hero’s journey, watching and developing into what he eventually became. A transcendent figure in basketball. And his game was so beautiful. The efficiency in his ability to score. The complete mastery of all phases of the game. His footwork was exquisite, it was art. His ability to hit the most impossible shots, and give you the faith he would make it. You had the sense watching him that no other human had ever played basketball as beautifully, skillfully,and as passionately as Kobe Bryant. You have to remember, Kobe played for 20 years. For most of my generation, that is more than half our lifetimes. We literally couldn’t imagine basketball without him in it. But why was his story so compelling? Simply put, Kobe was really the only one daring enough to challenge Jordan at his own game, the apprentice succeeding the master. He shot for the Moon, and had no qualms letting you know that’s what the hell he was doing. And I’ll say this. He touched down on those sands, stomped his feet, and pounded his chest, as to say “It’s mine now.”

The whole comparison debate and legacy really doesn’t hold much water. The game changes. Everything about the sport changes. The names change with each passing generation. However, Jordan and Kobe represent something quite different. While the pioneers and legends helped move the rocketship of basketball through the void of space, we can honestly say that Jordan was the first man to touch down on the Moon. He is the Neil Armstrong of basketball in a sense. All credit given. However, if he’s Neil, Kobe is Buzz Aldren. They are on that same rocket ship together. Jordan may have touched the sands of immortality first, but just like Aldren, Kobe followed him down that ladder and followed those footsteps to the same place. His legacy, his imprint, is right up there with the first. It is the sequence of history, with one’s value not diminishing the others’.  And just like Aldren’s actual footprints on the moon, Kobe’s legacy will be set eternally, looking down upon us from high.

But what will that legacy be? There is this silly debated, a national question of “who is the greatest Laker, Magic or Kobe?”. I always found the question silly. In short, the wrong adjective is being used. Magic, who is naturally gregarious, warm, and a welcoming personality became a leader and 5 time champion in his legendary career. Apparently you can’t be in Magic’s presence without wanting to hug him. He is the most beloved Laker. Beloved. Kobe, simply put, is the most revered. Revered. Kobe once said, “I always want to outwork my potential.” That was Kobe as a Laker. Sometimes cold, often surly, he was a driven kid that became a man obsessed with being the best. And it drove some people, competitors, and even teammates away at times. However, as a person who was privileged enough to watch his entire career, he did the one thing we can only ask for as fans. He lived up to his potential. As the world of athletics change into self branding, load management, and disconnected passion for the process of improving as a professional, Kobe stands as the shining example of someone who literally gave all he could to his craft. By blood, by sweat, and by tears.He dared to be great, unapologetically striving for perfection. He knew he was the best, and made sure that all his competitors and people watching were aware of that fact. He accepted the responsibility of the dawning the mantle, of being the standard bearer, the face of a sport. He certainly failed at times, but he never wavered in his journey. Often the most talented player in the room, his work ethic and drive was that of a player with a fraction of his gifts. And we loved him for that. You never felt cheated when you saw Kobe Bryant play. He squeezed every ounce of the potential within himself and left if on the hardwood floor for all of us to behold. He gave us championships, memories for the rest of our lives. He gave us that. He gave us himself, and we were so happy to see him walk off that court, thank him, and let him enjoy his next chapter. And now he wont.   

I can go on and on about this. I still don’t have the ability to eloquently describe all the thoughts and feelings about all this. I’ll just lastly state that we are lessened by the loss. Not just as Laker fans, or basketball enthusiasts. We are lessened as a generation when our hero’s depart with words left unwritten. We are lessened by all potential lost. But we go on. Jerry West, with tears in his eyes, said it best about his surrogate son.

“A singular word, Kobe, will resonate forever.” 

In a city that is defined by the brightness of its stars, the most brilliant of them all has dimmed from view, and future seems so much more caliginous than it did just a day before.

[phemonoi]

tarot cards as foster the people lyrics 🌿✨

*based on the waite tarot deck

I've wanted to do this to better understand the relation of the cards with one another and I thought it'd be a good idea to post it here!

i. aces, the magician & justice

—houdini

“rise above, gonna start the war!” / “well, and eye for an eye, and an ‘f’ for a fight” / “well, you got what you want and what you never knew, perfect gift from me to you” / “focus on your ability, then they can’t get what they want to steal”

the aces have an aura of beginning, the spark of an idea, oportunity, birth. however, the magician is the “trigger” of that change, he controls it, activates it. he’s the architect and alchemist that has the ability to make use of each suit as he pleases. with justice, as we see, this power comes with a responsability. you get back what you give. and because the magician is also an illusionist, a liar and a thief, justice needs to be there as a reminder of what happens when you abuse magic. 

ii. twos, high priestess & the hanged man

—shc

“you’re a secret, that’s worth keeping, and now i’m keeping my mouth shut” / “well, i’ve been sleeping waiting for something, but to feel nothing at all, avoid the call” / “when i’m alone, there’s a ghost the keeps talking, and i know there’s gotta be more, for sure”

the twos are a symbol of alchemy, and this can be clearly seen in the cups with the caduceus of hermes on the background. the high priestess is the master of occult knowledge, she channels cosmic knowledge through intuition, thus creating a bond, an exchange of energy within her and the universe. the hanged man needs meditation and contemplation in order to decide what’s next, what’s real from what’s an illusion. he urges stillness in order to recover, much like the two of swords.

iii. threes, the empress & death

—fire escape

“my spine is made of iron, my heart pumps out old red paint” / “I see the seasons change, all the young faces come and replace the dying ones” / “i’ve watched the dreamers find their legs, and i’ve seen the ones that come get reduced to bones and rags”

this procesion of cards illustrates the importance of cycles. the threes combine pain, sorrow (swords) with recovery, harmony (cups), planning (pentacles) with action (wands), conveying the message that one simply can’t exist without the other, for the presence of the other is what gives one its importance, its core definition. they’re light and shadow, much like birth (empress) and death. 

iv. fours, the emperor & temperance

—coming of age

“you know i try to live without regrets, i’m always moving forward and not looking back, but i tend to leave a trail of dead while moving ahead” / “just like an animal, i protect my pride, when i’m too bruised to fight, and even when i’m wrong i tend to think i’m right. well, i’m bored of the game, and too tired to rage”

the emperor is the giver of stability, as we can see in four of pentacles and four of wands. he provides a stable foundation to build a home, he’s a father. meanwhile, the four of cups and four of swords portray temperance; they’re about patience, balance, and meditation. the emperor, as a leader, needs to balance the responsability of his power out with temperance, or else he will become a tyrant, ruled by fire.

v. fives, the hierophant & the devil 

—pay the man

“say what you love, it’s alright don’t be afraid to find your light, embrace the day, at night we’re here to fight, we all go wild again” / “climbing up my own tree, hoping it can hold all the things i’ve seen but i’ve chosen to ignore. well, i said, well i believe i’ve been well fed but the wolf’s not dead” / “lift up your name, seasons change, you know that it'll never be the same, we'll see the sun again, and before it fades, i just wanna say that i love you”

this procesion is very deep. it speaks of the spirit on a level that no other procesion of cards does in the entire deck. because the hierophant is combined with the devil, i feel like it unites opposite religious concepts: heaven with hell, purity with dirt, wisdom with madness. this alchemy of the soul is pretty much a product of dionysos, and that’s why he’s often identified with both major arcanas. the fives, now, are the middle point of each suit; they mark a transcendental point in the path of the fool. they speak of poverty, sadness, confusion and conflict. this is the event that leads to the tower; the failure, the longing for illumination, the unmasking of the lies and illusions that have ruled one’s life until now. the unity of darkness and light, the highest power, thrice-born and divine, with the lowest impulses of nature, the satyrs and maenads that lure you into their orgy. the devil here demands to be payed back, he wants retribuition, while the hierophant presents himself as the saviour, the guide, that happens to also be incredibly biased. i think it’s very useful to view this procesion as a representation of dionysos, he who initiates us into the journey of self-discovery through mysteries and shadows. 

vi. sixes, the lovers & the tower 

—the truth

“well i’ve been trying to relearn my name, it feels like a thousand years that i’ve been out of frame and i surrender, the truth is what it’s what i’ve needed from you, cause i’ve been floating within your walls of opinion, and i’m tired. i only want the truth” / “a blinding call to prayer has touched my feet, like the call of the prophets, a purpose is needed before you know that you know, to never wonder what you are, and not forget where you’ve come from” / “is it really love you’ve been speaking of?”

the lovers and the tower have a closer relation than what i thought at first, and the verses of this song really show it. the lovers is, finally, the resolution of the devil and the hierophant: it is the unification of duality, the yin and yang, and its lust is still present in the devil; the impetus and dichotomy of human emotion. but the tower and the hierophant are both events of immense spiritual enlightment. they represent freedom. the sixes are about charity, change, escape, and victory. 

vii. sevens, the chariot & the star 

—doing it for the money

“just close your eyes, we’re gonna run this blind, we live our lives, we’re not wasting time, maybe we lost our minds, we’re gonna get what we can” / “i said it doesn’t matter where i go, i am calling all the poets into battle, i am shouting to the world let them know that we won’t be afraid to step into the fight when we can’t see the light” / “there’s no retreat and no escape if we keep dreaming while we’re wide awake”

dreams, hope, courage and art. this is a creative procesion of cards. after the breakdown of the sixth procesion, the seventh brings bravery forthward. there’s no time to waste and we’re now purified, convinced of our worth and what we need to do in order to achieve what is needed. we’ve accepted the situation, the nature of our uncontrolling emotions and the will of fate. the sevens take action, a bit impulsively, but still they trigger a necessary change after the depression seen with the lovers and the tower. 

viii. eights, strength & the moon

—a beginner’s guide to destroying the moon

“and now i’m staring at the moon wondering why the bottom fell out, been searching for answers and there’s questions i’ve found” / “we’ve been crying for a leader to speak like the old prophets, the blood of the forgotten wasn’t spilled without a purpose, or was it?” / “you’ll never be whole until you lose control, and think freely to smash the wall of apathy, stop your self-importance and lift the weight off somebody else”

there’s a very pretty picture on the eight of cups in the ethereal visions illuminated tarot deck, because the moon is full, shining enormously over a deep blue landscape, and that perfectly illustrates the relation of this card to the major arcana of the moon. this procesion for me is about confidence. change is never easy, even when we’ve finally surrendered to the fate of circumstances, even when we were the ones to trigger it. eight of swords and eight of cups are not easy cards to gaze at, but we must remember that the moon is a mother, it is nurturing, it reminds us of the quality of nature to be cyclical, that things are always moving and flowing, and emotions don’t last forever. it’s also a card of illusions; it yells at us to remove the blindfold from our eyes and rediscover our worth. strength is about taming the beast, keeping on working, effort and struggle. so this tells me; no matter how much it hurts, keep going, be a leader, be the lion, make the blood you shed worth it. 

xix. nines, the hermit & the sun

—pseudologia fantastica

“don’t be afraid of the knife, sometimes you gotta cut the limb to survive” / “you got to love the madness of the feeling, don’t have to rush the freshness of beginning, you got to get back up and face your demons, don’t ever be afraid of starting over”

the nines follow the archetype of the hermit and continue their path through the sun. when we’ve worked hard enough, when we’ve compromised to facing our shadow self, when we’ve retired to truly know ourselves, admiting what we’ve done, what we’re worth, and retreated into silence, then there’s a comeback filled with joy, music, light. the nine of swords is a necessary dark night of the soul leading to a definitive awakening. 

xx. the tens, wheel of fortune & judgement 

—iii

“and i wont be afraid, it’s true we’ll never know, when the night will come and take us home, and people change, we fade from youth, and evolve into eternal life” / “wake the sleeping from their dreaming, we all want more, we all want more saints will sing and hearts are beating, saying we all want more, we all want more”

there’s still much to learn in the ten of swords already, but because life is an ouroboros and our purpose is to return to having full control of all the suits and making use of that power faithfully and wisely, it doesn’t matter. in the tens, we admit that we can affect certain situations but there’s always something that escapes our sight; fortune acts alone. wheels turn again, endlessly, for eternity. we want more; the ten of cups portrays a couple with kids new life, new paths, a new story that is, again, yet to be unfold. ten of pentacles passes down its knowledge and experience to the youth; ten of wands continues with its struggle, in the conviction that the nine will come back. ten of swords, however, looks defeated. it ain’t. it’s finally the death of the past self. ten of swords is, actually, the scene of the moment the knight defeated his adversaries. it is a card of victory; but the knight is yet to become a king. 

[scaryscarecrows]

Roots and Leaves, Pt. 8

All done!

“-son. Master Jason.”

Fuck, Alfred’s dead? The end is extremely fucking nigh.

But, if he’s going to be selfish (which got him into this, you’d think he’d learn)…at least he has company in…wherever this is.

His hands still hurt, though, which he finds very unfair.

“You are no better at feigning unconsciousness than you were at fifteen, sir.”

He’s not tryin’ to…

Why does Death look like his old bedroom. Is this some sorta ‘ease into it’ area?

“There you are.”

“Alfie?”

Alfred hasn’t changed one bit. Jason will bet that his mustache hasn’t even grown, or shed a hair, or anything.

“How are you-”

Alfred.

He hugs him and he hasn’t changed, not one goddamn bit. Alfred hugs him back, one hand cupping his neck and the other moving firmly up and down his spine. Alfred’s here, everything’s gonna be okay, at least for another minute…

The hand on his spine moves and his head’s tilted up with a soft, “Oh, my boy.”

It’s over. Any dignity he had is gone. He presses his face against Alfred’s chest (fabric softener Earl Grey home) and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not crying. He’s never been able to keep anything from Alfred anyway.

“M’sorry.”

“Oh, my boy,” Alfred says again, and those sturdy hands press against his head and neck. “There is nothing to apologise for.”

He tries to take a few deep breaths, to get himself under control for fuck’s sake, and can’t. He can’t do it anymore.

But Alfred is a literal saint, and he doesn’t try to coax him to talk or to sit up or to do anything at all, even after his jacket must be soaked through. He just sits there, marginally more slumped than he usually is, and rubs a hand in slow, steady circles over Jason’s shoulders.

At some point, he senses a presence in the doorway, but before he can straighten up it’s gone again and now, without that motivation, it’s easier to just stay here where it’s safe and warm.

He eventually runs out of tears but his face is now wet and swollen and hot. His nose feels like it’s swollen shut and he’s been reduced to careful, thought-out breaths that rattle in his throat and burn in his chest. Sitting up is too much work.

Alfred props him up anyway and rubs a cool washcloth over his face before letting him take it and hold it against his now-puffy eyelids.

“That’s it, Master Jason.” If Bruce is Sherlock Holmes, then Alfred is Watson. They don’t deserve him. “That’s it. Deep breaths, there we are.”

“M’sorry, Alfie,” he forces out, voice strangled. “M’sorry-”

“That’s enough of that.”

“But-”

“I won’t hear any more of that.” Oh, boy. That’s the ‘you’re on thin ice and should just shut up’ voice. Even now, it’s scary and he doesn’t have the courage to go against it.

A straw presses against his lips-limeade-and Alfred continues, a little gentler now, “I cannot imagine that you purposefully buried yourself for any reason, Master Jason. Am I correct?”

He laughs. He can’t help it. It sounds so nice put like that.

“No. No, I…I didn’t. I didn’t.” He is not going to start crying again. He refuses. Sheila flashes behind his eyes, blonde and blue and red, and he presses the washcloth down hard enough to hurt. “I…she s-said. She said she was out. Sh-she said she was out, Alfred, I thought…just once…”

“From the beginning, Master Jason.” Calm, but making it very clear that he doesn’t have a choice. “Who is ‘she’?”

He swallows, knows he’s imagining something squirming at the back of his throat. Alfred waits.

“Sheila Haywood,” he finally whispers. “I…Bruce’s files…she might have been my mother.”

He doesn’t have to look to know Alfred’s got that little frown between his eyebrows, the one that says he’s deeply upset. Jason presses the washcloth tighter against his eyes, sparking colors, and his wrist is tugged at until the colors die off.

“I just…she approached me, Alfie, I swear, I didn’t…I just thought…” He swallows again, forces himself to let the washcloth fall to his lap. “M’tired of bein’ second choice, Alfred.”

He doesn’t have time to brace himself before he’s pulled back down and somehow…folded…so that he’s tucked against Alfred’s chest like he’s thirteen again and still fits.

“Jason Peter Todd,” Aw, shit. “you have never been second choice, do you understand?”

But…

Look. He’s very well aware that he wouldn’t be here if Dick hadn’t had that fallout with Bruce. And oh, boy, has he ever learned the Joys of Being the Second Child-‘Dick did this’, ‘Dick did that’, and on and on and on. He’s come to terms with that fact, it’s fine, whatever.

But arguing that point (or any point) with Alfred is a Bad Idea.

And. And he’s here, now, because Bruce…Bruce came to pick him up, when he asked. So. That means something, doesn’t it?

His head hurts.

Alfred sighs at his non-answer but lets it go for the time being.

“What happened with Miss Haywood?”

He’s not moving. He’s staying right here until this is all over.

“Some moron tried to hold up the grocery store…”

* * *

Jason feigns sleep for the rest of the day, until Bruce is out on patrol. Sneaking past the Batman isn’t impossible, but it’s definitely hard and with his hands almost completely useless, well…

The last thing he wants or needs is a lecture on Trust and Rushing Into Things and Dammit, Jason, This is What Got You Captured by the Joker. He knows that, thanks, Bruce.

(And yeah, okay, he knows lectures are Bruce’s way of saying I Love You, but some people swear a punch to the face is an I Love You, so.)

Sneaking past Alfred, on the other hand…now that really is impossible.

He’s halfway down the stairs when there’s an irritated, “A-HEM,” from behind him. Crap.

“I was thirsty?”

Alfred gets this expression that Jason will swear means he’s envisioning smacking him upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper. Yeah. Okay. Game’s up.

“I just…I need some time,” he says, eyes fixed on a knot in the wooden banister. “I can’t face him, Alfred, not now.”

Not for a long time, probably. Not without a massive blow-up on both sides and it’s better if no one else is around to be caught in that crossfire.

And besides. Right now, he just…his apartment may be kinda crappy, but it’s not haunted by a stupid kid who swore up and down that

“Being Robin gives me magic!”

“This is the best day of my life.”

There’s too many ghosts in this house.

Alfred comes forward and pats his shoulder.

“At least permit me to provide you with a few easy-to-reheat meals.”

“I’m okay-”

“Humor an old man.”

That is a trap. That is a trap, it’s just better to nod and neither protest or nor agree. And he’s got time, before Bruce gets back.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

“Hm.”

He’s ushered towards the kitchen. It hasn’t changed a bit-still homey and warm and with those same comfy stools by the counter. He remembers having after-school snacks there and chattering a mile a minute about ‘so Mister Pierce set his desk on fire in chemistry and it was so cool I gotta try that y’think B’ll let me-?’

“If I hear one word about you being out before those hands have healed, there is no power on Heaven or Earth that will spare you, is that clear?”

He believes. He believes.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” An icebox appears out of nowhere. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I, uh…I called an Uber. I didn’t think I could drive.”

“Wise choice.” Alfred sets the icebox down and grips Jason’s arms. “You will always have a home with us, Master Jason. Remember that.”

He is not going to start crying again. He is not.

“Thanks, Alfred.”

* * *

The Uber guy is more interested in his radio than in Jason and that’s just fine. It means he’s not going to pester him, which means that he can twist around to watch Wayne Manor shrink into the distance through back window.

When he gets home, he opens his e-mail. Nothing new, but Sheila’s are still there. He deletes most of them.

But.

He can’t. Even now, after everything, he can’t bring himself to hate her. Not really.

He moves the remaining few to his ‘save it’ folder, where he won’t open them by mistake, and goes outside for a cigarette. Lighting it’s a pain, and there’s a few minutes that he’s terrified that he’s going to light the bandages on his hands on fire, but he manages it, in the end, and leans on the railing to watch the cars go by below.

In another unit, he can hear Mz. Melinda May cackling and a handful elderly voices swearing and demanding she be thrown out. Maybe he’ll go over there tomorrow, make sure she hasn’t downloaded a crap-ton of computer viruses again. (And yeah, okay, he wants to know about the yelling.)

There’s a sudden movement in the shadows across the street and he goes inside, turns on the TV. He’s halfway through an episode of Chopped when a red bar pops up on the bottom saying, Batman recaptures Harley Quinn, more at eleven.

A knot in his chest he didn’t realize was there loosens up and he pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Thanks, B.”

THE END

[bonbonswirl-blog]

Proud dad

NO ONE BELONG TO ME THEY ALL BELONG TO ONLY @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING.

anyway i was not satisfied with the last fanfic I worte at ALL, it was very bad and I wont blame you if you think that too im sorry it went like this. I decided to write this one since I got the idea. Mason is always a sweetheart btw guys! I just may have changed him a little by accident in this one. Bc im not too skilled, reminder none of this happened and not canon, all these just from my mind with some little "headcanons" from me thx.

It was just a normal day. The golden rays of sunshine caressing everyone faces, shining up the bright blue sky that gives a feeling of comfort and ease, faint chirping of birds can be heard near the trees. Mason was sitting on a bench in a park, with a little smile on his warm face, which is being tickled by the gentle gold beams. his eyes were slowly scanning the small letter in his hands, re-reading it once more after numerous of time, his fingers touched the writing of pen on the white piece of paper, as if checking if this is a true thing, And it is. His eyes drifted from the paper in his hands to the playground in front of him, The sounds of children playing echoed from the park, stomping, running and laughing. None of the worries of adults crossed their minds, only how to elude capture by their friends. The rhythmic creaking of swings went back and forth, and some kids tried to time their jumps from the swings to the rhythm. The colors of the playground equipment were still fresh and bright, despite the years of wear and the endless use. his eyes trying to search between this crowd of kids for a certain one of his own, a few years old one with messy brown hair wearing a flatcap similar to his own one, it was something he gave his child on his previous birthday, mason tried to consider it as a gift to his son as an attempt to bring some joy to his little heart, it was the only thing that was in his pocket right now. He hoped that in the next birthday he will find a better present to give for his little boy that can truly make him happy. Moments later mason had found him, merrily playing on a slide with the other kids, which made his dad smile get bigger. For a last time he looked at the letter, he was so happy that someone had finally toke notice of him and invited him for a job intrview tomorrow morning, he practiced a lot for hopes in getting that job, if he gets it, he will no longer be dependent on those small live making things that doesnt help a lot and will have enough money to provide a good life for him and his son. Looking at the sky, he noticed that the sun is going to set soon, and it will get late to walk for home, they dont live near this park. He smelled the letter as it was some fresh air then folded it to put it in his pocket, giving more five minutes for his son to play until he is going to pick him up to go home.

It was night. As the colors of the day rest the dark was covering every part of the sky. all the kids have already went to their home with their parents, the air was silent, maybe an owl or some cricket can be heard from here and there, the streets were empty, no one was walking on them, expect for a single man holding his little son hand, mason looked at his child and smiled "how was your day at the park wallaby? Did you enjoy it? " He asked wallaby, making sure his son had a good time playing and laughing with all the kids, that he was happy with where his dad brought him today. " Yes dad! I founda buncha fweinds today! We pwayed a game cawed tag your it! Ya pway it by runnin after someone and ya ne....." but mason didnt hear the rest of the talk of how wallaby is teaching him to play tag your it, because his mind was in another place, filled with thoughts of how the interview will go tomorrow, will he get the job? Will he fail? What will he do if he failed? He doesnt want that...What if he gets it? But it was harder than he expected? Will he leave it? Will he push himself to continue? Will he...

" Dad?!?!?DAd?!??! DAD?!? " His son voice distracted him of his deep thought. He guessed that he was inside his mind for too long that he couldnt hear his child. " Yes my dear? " "Ma legs huwt :<" mason smiled again and giggled at wallaby cute little pout, it could make anyone fall for him so fast, his dad knows that there is still a bit of a way for them to get to their home yet, and that wallaby had already walked long enough with his small foot, not to mention he must be tired from all the running today. " Do you want me to carry you for the rest of the way? " " YA YA YA! " Wallaby said excited at that suggestion, reaching both his short arms up in the air for mason hold him, which made mason laugh a little and lean down to hold his small baby in his arms. " Who is my little good boy? " "ME ME!! " " Yes You Are!! " Mason tickled wallaby a bit which made the small kid laugh childishly, his laugh fuel his dad heart with delight. He hugged his son gently while keeping to walk along the road. " Dad? " " Yes! my sunshine? " "I saw some of ma fweinds today tawk about who is better at studying in school! dad, what is school? " ....Mason smile went away and he was silent for a while.... he remembered that wallaby was already old enough for his age to start going to school...but he couldnt afford the money to give this child the chance to go the kindergarten like all the other kids...when will he give him the chance to start learning?... " School is a place where you go to get education dear! Kids go to there everyday to learn new things! " He tried to smile as an attempt to comfort himself and answer the child question softly. " Will I one day go to school dad?" Wallaby innocent smile wasnt enough to sweep away the little sadness that mason felt at that question, he wanted so much for wallaby to get education like all the other people, and he was ready to do whatever it costed to do so, but he know he cant... he cant find the chance. " Maybe one day you will do dear... " that even gave the dad a bigger ambition to pass the intreview tomorrow, he will work as hard as he can to give anything that is needed to his son. Wallaby was silent for a little time in his dad arms while mason just kept walking, the small one looked at his dad again to shot another question at him. " Dad im hungwy :< " that reminded mason that they both didnt really eat enough since the last two days, he is trying to save up for more important things. He wished he have the ability to give him something good to eat right now, he used a lot of energy playing today anyway. " I know my dear...how about I give you an apple when we come back home? " " But I always ate apples dad! How about some candy? " Mason laughed a little "aww my dear! You need to eat lots of vegetables and fruits to grow up! " "awwwww :< " wallaby pout never fail to make mason grin, wallaby didnt eat lots of sweets anyway...maybe in the near future he will have enough money to feed wallaby and him in a right way. They both went silent for another minutes, Out of topics to discuss. Wallaby was thinking about something, he looked at his dad once more to ask a new question, a lot More serious this time... " dad?.." " yes wallaby? " "I....today when we were leavin the pawk.....I saw lotta kids standing next to a....woman....evewy kid have their own woman! The women were holdin their childwen hands just wike ya do to me...and the kids all tawk about their day with them just like I do now...the women seems to be with them...evewyday and evewywhere...like they are with them evewy second!...dad do I....do I.....do I have a woman who take cawe of me wike all those kids do?....."

Mason stopped walking.

He felt his chest starting to ache.

He didnt expect that one day wallaby will wonder why he have no mother like the other kids.

That he will start missing her....

he have no idea what to tell his son now.....he cant just tell him that he doesnt have one....what is he going to do now.....how can he tell his son the cold bitter truth....he cant...he is even so young to know about it...what is he going to do...

" Dad?...." ...wallaby was scared about his dad sudden hush...did he make him mad? he started to get worried now.... "...wallaby........I......" mason was out of words....he moved his head to the side... avoiding eye contacts with his son, looking at the ground shamfully...his eyes no longer have any shine or bright when he hears the gladness in his son voice whenever he talks about about a joyful thing he tried, or when he achieved any small victory. Mason finally gave up, he couldnt ignore his son like this any longer, he need to say something to wallaby.... mason toke a deep sigh...returning his head to look at his little boy who is laying in his arms, wallaby didnt look cheerful as he was a minute ago...he was looking to his side, with a frown in his little mouth, the dirt blush on his cheeks wasnt as red as when he is talking gaily with his adorable puffy cheeks, but they werent puffy anymore...the boy flatcap was going to fall down from his head soon, funny how he can keep it still on his head while running and jumping everywhere all day, wallaby didnt feel really ok at this point...

Mason looked with a grievous look at him before beggining to speak..... "wallaby...listen to me... " his voice was heavy with shame, the same way his guilt wheighed down upon his shoulders, that made his son look at him in the face again, but the expressions still the same. " my little sunshine......you do....you do have a woman like them too...this woman is called...a mother...the mom is the person who brought the life to her children...toke care of them from childhood until adulthood, she is always there to share with her children the laughs, smiles and their happiest moments, always there to comfort them in the sorrow, fear and their hardest moments, she is always the shelter from every harm, the guardian from every enemy, the key for every solution, she will always support her kids no matter what happen in any time and any place....every mom love is always with her kids forever wallaby... all the moms are great! And you should know wallaby that...you have a mom...like them all...but you wont be lonely because im here with you..."

Mason voice was soft, almost fragile, as if it and his heart would break any minute. Perhaps his heart was already broken...broken to bits from the harsh cruel world....mason was never really good with coping with the loss... The sadness flowed through his veins like a flowing river, cold and unending, deadened his mind. It was a poison to his spirit, dulling him, killing off the other emotions he felt when talking to his precious son until it was the only one that remained. He learned that anyone can be a pareng...but not anyone can be a family...He wanted very badly to tell wallaby that lucy still loves him, she still love her family...love them...love them a lot to the point that she left them.....he have no idea where she is now after she dissapeared, its been a long time, but for some reason, he cant fully let her go, she left a hole in his heart that can not be fixed, wallaby is now the only thing that still bring some life in mason dead core, he promised from the day he was left alone with the kid, that he will do everything to make sure he is living safe and sound..

The small wallaby face began to draw a pure smile again, his flatcap back in place, his hued eyes are back to their bright, he got up a bit from his dad arms. "I knew it! I knew I had one too wike them! Dad? Will I eva meet her?!" "Maybe one day sunshine....maybe one day...." mason couldnt bring himself to say no to this one...he doesnt know if wallaby will ever meet her...he may not ever find her, He hugged wallaby more tightly and began taking faster steps, this chat already broke his heart enough and he wants to get home to rest for a busy day tomorrow...good thing wallaby slept on their way home.

The next morning came as usuall, the sun rised, sent its woven strands, free and united, to flow into the sky for revealing and solidifying a new day. Mason used to wake up late, but this time he was early, today is the day, his plan is simple, go the inreview, success, and go to the job. He wasnt very content, he felt nervous, looking after every way that this can go wrong with. Last night wasnt the best for him, it made him re-think about his life with wallaby and how he is going to raise him. he was standing at the door, preparing himself to bring his legs to work straight to the place of that job, but before he can move the handle, he heard a voice behind him

" Dad?.. "

He turned around to see that his son had already woke up, standing confused there with a large jacket around him, it was so large that the jacket ends were on the floor, wiping it wherever the boy go, he looked like a child who have jacket that should be wore by only adults wrapped around him, which is the truth, wallaby always wear it to bed, using it insted of a blanket. " wallaby...uh why are you up so early dear? " " Dad whewe are ya goin? we gonna go to work now? " Mason smiled and kneeled down to put his hands on wallaby shoulders " did you know I got an intrview today? Im going to try to get a job! If i got it! We gonna have enough money to eat properly and go to school to learn! " Wallaby was happy hearing this, it made him almost jump " reawy? Yaaaaay! Wait! But dad! Ya will need ma help! " Mason smiled and ruffled wallaby messy hair " aww my little one, when you grow up you will have your own job to take care of! " When mason turned around to open the door again, wallaby voice stopped him. " but dad! Ya cawt go! " Mason looked behind once more " but why dear? " "Becawse....im gonna be so lonely without ya! " Mason was surprised a bit, wallaby stayed home by himself a lot of times, why is he going to feel lonely staying today? " But sunshine...you always stay home alone by yourself, why are you going to feel lonely today?" " Becawse...I awways hewped ya in your work...this time I wont be there to hewp ya! Ya will awways go to work without me! ya will feel alone! and i will stay more time at home and feel alone! Ya cant leave me dad! Pwease stay here with me.. " after hearing this, mason felt sad, again. He didnt know that wallaby actually felt happy working with him and that he felt so lonely when he all alond without, but he cant do anything about it. "dear...im sorry...but...I cant do anything to help that...please im doing that for you...just stay here and you will find me soon at home..." " but dad! I cant let ya go! Pwease stay! Arent ya my mama? " Whenever someone mention the word 'mom' mason never feel so good. "what?.... " " arent ya my mama? Ya awways pway with me and take cawe of me like all the mamas do! " Mason didnt know his opinion about this kind of thought. " Uh, my little boy, im not your mother...im your father.. " " but ya stiw take care of me! Like any mama! I wont let ya go dad...why dont ya stay hewe and tell me more stories about my mama! " Mason now REALLY didnt feel so good about this one...reminding him of lucy by any chance can make him lose it all...worst idea to think about..." ....wallaby...I need...to go......maybe at night... " " but dad! Pwease! " " goodbye wallaby " "Stay with me! " " Im coming back at night " "dad come on!" Mason tried to get out the house but wallaby was still following him, he cant go anywhere, he stayed standing there, listening to his son conmplains, he already know he made him late enough, almost all of wallaby suggestions was to talk about lucy, lucy lucy and only lucy, that name bring a chill to him whenever he hears it, that made him re-think about last night. A bad memory for him... no. more, About the past, oh..why did she left them? He knows the reason, but was he already the full reason? Or....did wallaby have anything to do with this? Every thought made him dig deeper and deeper in the...unwanted memeories, he cant get himself to get out of his mind and go to the inreview, all he think about now was who fault it was.

" Wallaby...I think you really need to stop now!! "

And that was the first time that mason rised his voice a little at wallaby, and honsetly, wallaby was very surprised, his dad never rised his tone like that at him before, he always talk too soft and gentle with him, so excited yo hear about his day. But now he didnt look to be in the mood to do that.

" Dad.... " " wallaby you must stay here! " " But da- " "im already late for this i need to go! " "pwease da-" "bye. "and with that mason closed the door behind him completely. leaving the house, and leaving the young child to spend another day at his home on his own. Mason was on the streets running, he felt like a lot of pressure and stress on him have been realesed when he got angry, now there is no more complaining about lucy and her absence.....but...he didnt feel alright yet...he felt.....regret....it was so heavy...he felt his heart carrying a heavy weigh...or that there are rocks in his chest...that didnt make him feel well by any chance, he tried to ignore it but it was a lot not to feel something...he felt so alone...he started getting cold...a feeling he didnt sense long ago...cause his body and heart always felt warm whenever he used to be alongside his son..but now he feels like he left him...he did...he feel like he did a mistake..he didnt mean it...he didnt mean to do that at all....he was just pressured and sad to rememeber a doleful memory...he didnt meant to hurt anyone...he wished he could go back and change something of what just happened..but now he cant, all he can do now is pass this intreview.

The night had fallen upon the land, the sky left with only a matt black canvas with no stars to be looked upon. The darkness was thick, mason path was hardly lit, if a normal person cant see good in this dark then this only made mason sight worse.  The interview went..........fine..........it wasnt what he was really looking for...and that was dissatisfied....but all what mason could care about is returning to his home and check something, rather someone....Other than the darkness and himself all that seemed to exist was the chilly wind thats harsh bite could be felt through the man skin. He could feel the hairs on his arms rise and the bite of the wind had left its mark in the form of small bumps that were tingling on his arms, but its bite was more than flesh deep. His blood ran cold through his veins and his bones were chilled. but the heat of what he was wearing did not reach his skin at all, mason know why, after what he done today he knew that today will not be a pretty day at all. The cold wind could be felt that its his inner repent, after what felt like days he saw his home, he may not see a lot good but it he could recognize his house, he stayed in the chilly wind for a few minutes, what is he going to do and say when gef back home?....

He sighed and gently opened the door, waiting to see someone in front of him when he do, to his surprise, there wasnt anyone....the house felt so quiet.....

so empty....

" Wallaby? " He called for his son, waiting for a reply, but none came. "Wallaby? " He called again. began walking around the house, maybe his son just didnt hear him..but he began to sweat.. " wallaby...?... " he searched everywhere in the house, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, he couldnt find him! There was only one place left...the bedroom, he ran to there, seriously hoping that wallaby is here insode the house. He entered the bedroom and turned on the lights panicking.........then sighed.......wallaby was there...sleeping on the bed that they both together share....wearing the same jacket he woke up with around him...mason smiled a little at the view. With the corner of his eyes he toke a glance of some small crayons and a drawing white paper on the ground, he went to that drawing and picked it up to see what did wallaby draw while he was out, he slowly looked into it.

It was drawn in a chidish way, with simple colors of crayons...if mason not wrong, one of the two people in it was him, having a smile on his face, next to him a smaller figure, he wasnt sure at first if thats wallaby, that figure had a colorfull hair, and a red dot to where seemed to be the nose, that figure short arms were stretched and some different colored dots where around him. Was that a clown? Why would wallaby draw his dad with a short clown next to him playing with some balls?! But suddenly it hit him..he remembered...

Wallaby previous birthday....at that day, mason only concern was to give his child a little happy party...but he couldnt even afford a cake...let alone a present...when he came back home that day all what he brought was just a red ballon, but he didnt want the birthday to just go by like that, he wanted to try and give wallaby any kind of gift, the only idea in his head was to dress as a clown and try to impress wallaby or make him laugh. He made wallaby sit on the ground and just got some random things to try and throw in the air and catch them again, which was a fail, wallaby didnt do anything, other than sitting there with a stare, when mason thought about giving up he slipped on something and fell down, that did hurt a bit, but wallaby laughed a lot! Which made mason not regret this at all and laughed with his kid "Hahahha! That was so funny dad! Why ya dressin like that? :D " " Haha...i was trying to be like a clown son! " "a clown? Oooh! So today is dressin as diffwent people day? " " Heh..I guess? " " Yaaay! Imma dress like ya dad! " Wallaby looked right and left to find something that can make him look like his dad, luckily he noticed his dad flatcap and grapped it to put it on his head " look dad! Im ya! I love my son a lot! We both get books and stare at them together! " Mason laughed because that was actually funny and true, they both cant read correctly which lead them to just stare at any book they try to read. Mason got up and put a hand on the flatcap that was on wallaby head " and this, my dear son...is my birthday gift to you...happy birthday! " Wallaby eyes looked like they were starry and he touched his dad flatcap with both his hands " wooooow!! Rewwy! Thanks dad!! " wallaby jumped on his dad giving him a tight hug, to which mason gladly gave back.

Mason now got what the drawing is talking about, in wallaby birthday party he tried to make him laugh so he can feel better...now..wallaby saw his dad was angry..and wanted him to laugh again...so he dressed as a clown and tried to make his dad smile again...just like he did to him...mason looked up the two figures to see a childish writing, its may not be written right but he tried as hard as he can to read it.

' Am srry dad u ar angre, i wont u 2 smail plz, i lov u '

Mason felt he is going to cry.

He learned it, nothing in this world can ever be above his only family. He put the drawing on a table, turned off the lights, and layed down next to wallaby, though his small son was sleeping to his side, mason hugged him from behing carefully and whispered softly.

" Im so sorry I neglected you today my precious sunshine...I wont do it again...the words wont describe how much I love you, I will be your mama and dada...and will take care of you for every moment...I am a proud dad to have you...no matter what wallaby....you will always make me proud. "

[captainjusthumanthings]

Most Popular Types of Yoga Explained

One of the most important hurdles to starting yoga is deciding what sort of yoga you would like to undertake. It's often confusing for beginners because the category names and options are so broad. While most styles use equivalent physical postures, each features a particular emphasis. This cheat sheet highlights the differences so you'll determine which sort is most appealing to you. 

Of course, the simplest thanks to starting doing yoga is to require a category for 

beginners.1 If your local studio doesn't indicate which classes are geared toward newbies, invite advance which class goes to supply basic instruction appropriate for somebody new. If you're seeking out online videos, search specifically for beginner-level classes—almost all online yoga video platforms allow you to search by ability-level.

Just confine mind, if you do not like your first yoga class, that does not mean that you simply and yoga aren't meant to be. Because there are numerous different sorts of yoga then many various instructors with their approaches to teaching, it's going to take a couple of attempts before you discover the proper fit.

Given the various benefits of daily yoga practice, if you do not like yoga initially, plan to try several different classes before you write it off completely.

Beginner-Friendly Options Aside from classes designated as "beginner yoga," generally speaking, classes labeled as "Hatha" are slower-moving, thoughtful practices that specialize in basic, beginner-friendly poses.2 in fact, it is vital to acknowledge that the term "Hatha" is really a generic designation for any sort of yoga focused on movement. In America, almost every yoga class is, technically, Hatha, so confirm you ask the trainer what you'll expect before your first-class.

Vinyasa classes are incredibly popular, but they tend to be faster-moving, which may be confusing for beginners who are unacquainted with basic poses. If you would like to undertake a vinyasa class, hunt down a beginner-level version.

Finally, Iyengar yoga may be a sort of yoga heavily focused on proper alignment. this is often great for people that have injuries or who want to spend overtime getting each pose exactly right. you'll expect tons of instruction, which is great for beginners.3

Remember, any sort of yoga is often perfectly suitable for beginners as long as it's designated a "beginner" class, so if your local studio offers yin or Forrest yoga, be happy to offer it a try. Just make certain to let your instructor know that you're new the practice. By giving him the heads up, he'll know to stay an eye fixed on you and to supply more detailed instructions as required.

Different Styles Explained You can attempt to identify your yoga type or find out what your yoga personality is to ascertain which of the subsequent styles is best for you. There are many to settle on from, but don't let that intimidate you. Try a beginner-friendly class before branching out (if you would like to).

Hatha

Hatha may be a very general term that encompasses any of the physical sorts of yoga. In contemporary yoga lingo, Hatha has come to mean a slow-paced and delicate way of practicing. Hatha classes are often an honest place to start a yoga practice because they provide an introduction to the essential yoga poses during a low-key setting.2

Vinyasa Flow

Like Hatha, vinyasa may be a general term wont to describe many various sorts of classes. Vinyasa tends to be a more vigorous sort of yoga incorporating a series of poses called sun salutations, during which each movement is matched to the breath.

A vinyasa class typically starts with a variety of sun salutations to warm up the body for more intense stretching done at the top of sophistication. Vinyasa is additionally called flow, regarding the continual movement from one posture to subsequent .4

Anusara

Founded in 1997 by John Friend, Anusara combines a robust emphasis on physical alignment with a positive philosophy supported a belief within the intrinsic goodness of all beings.5 Classes are usually light-hearted and accessible, often with attention on heart-opening.

Unfortunately, Friend is not any longer related to Anusara thanks to his indiscretions. Anusara is now a teacher-led yoga school and Friend has started a replacement yoga style called Sridaiva (see below).

Ashtanga

Ashtanga may be a fast-paced, intense, flowing sort of yoga founded by Pattabhi Jois within the 1960s6. a group series of poses is performed, always within the same order. This practice is extremely physically demanding due to the constant movement from one pose to subsequent and therefore the emphasis on daily practice.

It was one of the primary yoga styles embraced by an outsized number of western students and had been very influential within the evolution of yoga within the past 30 years.

Baptiste Power Vinyasa

Baron Baptiste may be a power yoga innovator who studied many various sorts of yoga, martial arts, and meditation before arising together with his unique yoga method, Baptiste Power Vinyasa.

His style is predicated on 5 Pillars: vinyasa, ujjayi pranayama, heat, uddiyana bandha, and Drishti. Classes, which are conducted during a heated room, are typically strong and sweaty.

Bikram/Hot Yoga

Hot yoga was pioneered by Bikram Choudhury, whose name became synonymous with yoga classes taught during a room heated to 95 to 104 degrees. the warmth facilitates the loosening of tight muscles and profuse sweating, which is assumed to be cleansing. The Bikram method may be a set series of 26 poses, but not all hot classes make use of this series.

CorePower Yoga

CorePower Yoga may be a chain of hot yoga studios founded in Denver in 2002. The brand is rapidly expanding throughout us. Expect consistent instruction in a rich gym-like setting. A membership is sweet at any of their studios nationwide.

Iyengar

Based on the teachings of the yoga master B.K.S Iyengar, this sort of practice is all about bringing the body into its absolute best alignment, often using props like yoga blankets, blocks, and straps to help students in mastering proper form.3

Iyengar practices usually emphasize holding poses over long periods of your time rather than moving quickly from one pose to subsequent (as during a flow class). Iyengar has been vital within the development of recent yoga asana.

Jivamukti

This sort of yoga emerged within the 1980s from one among my City’s best-known yoga studios. Jivamukti founders David Life and Sharon Gannon were influenced by the rigor of Ashtanga yoga together with chanting, meditation, and spiritual teachings. they need to train many teachers who have brought this sort of yoga to studios and gymnasiums, predominantly within the U.S. and Europe.

Jivamukti classes are physically intense and sometimes include an inspirational theme selected by the teacher.

Forrest

Headquartered in Santa Monica, California, Forrest Yoga is that the method taught by Ana Forrest. The performance of vigorous asana sequences is meant to strengthen and purify the body and release pent-up emotions and pain to encourage the healing of physical and emotional wounds. Expect an intense workout with stress on abdominal strengthening, inversions, and deep breathing.

Kripalu

Kripalu is both a yoga style and a retreat center in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. Kripalu maybe a yoga practice with a compassionate approach and emphasis on meditation, physical healing, and spiritual transformation that overflows into daily life7. It also focuses on looking inward and moving at your own pace, making it an honest practice for people with limited mobility thanks to age, weight, illness, or injury.

Kundalini

The emphasis in Kundalini is on the breath in conjunction with physical movement, to free energy within the lower body and allow it to maneuver upwards through all the chakras.

All asana practices make use of controlling the breath, but in Kundalini the exploration of the consequences of the breath (also called prana, meaning energy) on the postures is important. Kundalini exercises also are called kriyas.

Integral

Integral maybe a gentle Hatha sort of yoga supported the ideas and principals of Sri Swami Satchidananda, who sought to offer followers guidelines on the way to improve their lives. To integrate mind, body, and spirit, classes also include pranayama, chanting, and meditation.

Moksha/Modo

Moksha hot yoga was founded in Canada in 2004. In 2013, they changed the name of their affiliated U.S. studios to Modo Yoga. Both styles have supported a series of 45 poses wiped out a heated room. The studios are expected to stick to environmentally conscious building and cleaning standards and to foster a way of the community for his or her students.

Power Yoga

In the mid-1990s, several prominent teachers who were well-trained in traditional yoga were trying to find ways to form flow yoga accessible to more people. The resulting classes came to be known by the umbrella term of power yoga.

Power yoga was initially influenced by the intensity of Ashtanga but allowed for variation within the sequencing of poses at the discretion of the teacher.6 Contemporary power yoga classes are essentially vigorous vinyasa flow.

Restorative

Restorative yoga makes use of props to support the body because it relaxes into poses over several minutes. the thought is to remain in each pose long enough to encourage passive stretching. Seated forward bends, gentle supine backbends, and twists are samples of the sort of poses which will be adapted to be restorative with the addition of props like blankets and bolsters.

Sivananda

The first Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Center was founded in 1959 by Swami Vishnu-Sivananda, a lover of Swami Sivananda. There are now on the brink of 80 locations worldwide, including several ashrams. Sivananda yoga is predicated on five principles, including the practices of asana, pranayama, and meditation. The mastery of twelve carefully selected poses is at the core of this practice.

Sridaiva/Bowspring

After leaving Anusara Yoga (see above) in 2012, John Friend started Sridaiva with Colorado studio owner Desi Springer. This style introduces a replacement alignment system, which they call the bowstring. It's pretty different from other sorts of yoga therein the knees stay bent in many poses and therefore the pelvis is usually tipping forward to take care of the spinal curves. Proponents say they find a replacement source of strength and power from this alignment.

Viniyoga

Viniyoga is that the term employed by T.K.V. Desikachar to explain the methodology that his father, revered teacher T. Krishnamacharya, developed late in his life.8 it's supported an individualized approach to every student, creating a practice that suits his or her unique stage of life and state of health. Even in group classes, Viniyoga is tailored to suit each person's particular needs.

Yin Yoga

Yin Yoga may be a practice developed by teacher Paul Grilley to stretch the body's animal tissue, particularly around the joints. to try to do this, specific poses are held over several minutes. Grilley intended this practice to organize the body to be ready to sit in long meditation sessions and to act as a counterpoint to movement-oriented vigorous yang sorts of yoga.

[smolchildren-ily]

CAREFUL! VERY GRAPHIC AT TIMES!!!! Can be triggering for people who lost pets :(

Yesterday you crossed the rainbow bridge. Susi. A name I gave you just for fun. You, a random cat who kept stopping by and who ended up having her on basket on our terrace, sheltered from the wind underneath the table. You, who, without me knowing, grew really attached to my heart. I bought food for you passionately, I did, as weird as it may sound, I was eager to go shopping for you and I was so happy every time I could feed you because I saw how happy it made you. Unlike our two 'actual' cats who just ever complain, dont eat up or just straight up leave the food the way we put it in the bowl. I would be even happier when I could give you their leftovers because it meant you would have an extra full belly that day. I made sure to always provide you with dry food, too, always filled up the bowl when it was empty - which it was a lot, but a handful of other cats come by, too, I know. Also your brothers, or at least those who I call your brothers, because often times after I would have given you food you licked it a bit and then vanished just to return with Oliver and "Lackl" behind you. I felt like you always made sure they also got a full belly, even more than you yourself, actually, and that is the reason why you kept getting them. Now, with you gone, they have no more lead, and they will never know where you disappeared to or why their beloved sister left them. I feel so sorry for them, too. But they still stop by, just an hour ago both came here together. I will feed them in your stead. I will give them one pack extra, the pack that used to be for you. I loved you so much and I didnt even realize until I saw you motionless, like you were sleeping, in the absolute middle of the street in front of our house, but hidden behind big bushes so I couldn't see you. I couldn't help you. When the lady with the dog came and asked me who owns a fluffy, grey-black cat and that she would be out on the street, dead. You were already dead. Already dead. Blood poured from your mouth, and from your mouth only. A small puddle had formed under your head. Thick, cherry red blood. When I... When I picked up your body later that day, in the evening, to... to... to take you to the most heartbreaking, unholy and disgusting place, unworthy of any loved animal or animal at all, actually, because my mum didnt want you in her garden next to her beloved cat, I realized. I realized that you had only been dead for a maximum of 30 to 60 minutes. The 30 to 60 minutes I had just gotten up. I think it was late that I got up, either at 9.5 or 8.5 or maybe it was 8.14 after all. And because I felt it was so late, I was so surprised not to see you in front of the door already, like I saw you every day. Every day, for, I dont actually know how long. I dont know for how long I've known you. I dont think it was very long, but I dont remember. I just know that you were suddenly just t h e r e. Because, your brothers, they had actually visited us even before you started coming to our house. And then one day they brought you and you stayed.

You weren't there yesterday morning, and I didnt think about it much. It sometimes happened that you needed to catch on as to that I was awake - usually by my steps or latest when I opened the blinds of the kitchen window which faces the garden and the direction that we believe you stemmed from. So I went to open the blinds and sat bored beside my other cat and watched her eat, as I have to do because otherwise she wont eat often times. And I was looking forward to seeing your small, excited face behind the glass door, and to pet your soft fur. Then watch you eat away and walk into my way to beg for more. When my cat was done, I happily grabbed a pack, a different one from usual, because you had begun to not like the usual, so I wanted to give you a special treat. And I grabbed that pack and skipped to the door, opened it energetically and awaited your absolute immediate arrival and exploding joy over me and the food I was bringing you. You didnt come, which was weird. Somewhat weird, but it had been raining all week, and during rain you seemed to spend a lot of your time somewhere else. Maybe at the place that was originally your home? Your origin is still 50/50 a mystery. My mum says from the farmer where your brothers are from, but I'm not sure. But it must have been the case, because where else would you have come from? A bit run down, skinny. God, you looked so healthy just a couple of days me feeding you. So little days. I was proud you recovered so quickly, unlike your brothers, who seem to be doing very badly all the time. Such soft fur, so sleek.

And the blood was fresh and your limbs were still moving normally when I touched you. That is, later that day, that I realized: If I had gotten up earlier. If I hadn't been so lazy or tired or both. Just, maybe a couple of minutes? Maybe just 15 minutes? Who knows if you would have made it safely across the street to our house. Because you would have heard me open the blinds sooner. And you would have made your way to me sooner, and the car, the driver who was on his way to work, he wouldn't have hit your head, or any other part of you. I was just so happy that you weren't obviously hurt anywhere. Just this blood dripping from your mouth, forming a small puddle under your small, beloved head I loved to pet more than I had realized.

And I wonder, if I hadn't been so lazy or tired, if you would still be here today, and yesterday. Or if it already happened before I got up. While I was still... I wasnt sleeping, I was awake. As always, as usual. My cat always wakes me up in the middle of the night and or I just wake up at 5 or 6 or 7. Usually I stay in bed until 8, in any of those cases. But I stayed longer than 8 even, and if I had just gotten up. I wonder, could I have helped you? But I wouldt have seen you, hidden behind the big bushes, outside on the street.

The lady vet who was very busy but was one of the only ones who answered my call told me if a car hit her on the head she was probably immediately dead. Or wherever you were hit. I hope. I hope. I hope you were. Were... you know, immediately. Without pain. I wish that you died loving me and looking forward to seeing me again and to receive pets. And I will give them to you, and all the food and all the hugs you want, once we meet again. Because I hope we meet again, I dearly do, seldom have I hoped so intensely for heaven to exist. I realized that the older I get, the harder it becomes to say goodbye, to lose someone. Up until this day I believed it would become EASIER. Easier, because by an old age, you would have been through so much already. Lost so many people, so many cats. But I realize it's not and I dread the days I have to say goodbye to our other cats, to any cat, actually, to any animal. I will not be thinking about people at this time, because it is too soon. To soon, to soon, to soon. As it was too soon for you. I love you so much.

Given we have somewhat a neighbour hassle I put my mind to try to find a vet who would examine your body. To make sure you weren't poisoned, because I couldn't see any visible injuries on you. Just this little, thick puddle of cherry red blood underneath your mouth. So many vets only opened in the late afternoon, so many were on holiday, so many only opened again on Monday. But I found this lady vet, and whilst having a patient on the table she hurryliy told me that, if I found you in the middle of the road, it was most likely car. And you were probably dead. You know. What I hope you was. For your sake. And for my sake. I dont want to talk about it anymore. I love you.

After this lady vet, who said that she technically does examine bodies, but who seemed somewhat reluctant and like the result was clear anyway, I called who I was going to call in the first place: the animal clinic 40 minutes from us. I wasnt keen on being with... a body, because that is what you were at that point, a body. With a body in the car for 40 minutes, but I was gonna do it, just to know, just to make sure that t h i s o n e t i m e I would actually k n o w what happened to my cat. So I would know and not wonder for the rest of my life: What happened? What went wrong? Could I have done something? Do I need to guard our other cats? But I was going to do it.

The lady who picked up this time was very friendly. She caught on almost immediately that I'd just lost a cat, and after she called me back to tell me that poison leaves the body too quickly to get usable results and that it would be a few hundred euro to have this analysis done, told me she wished me all the best and if I have any questions I should call. She was the first person that day - yesterday, it was just yesterday. But it felt like a nightmare, and it feels long ago already. A nightmare I want to forget, but I dont want to forget you. Susi.

She acknowledge my pain and your death and she consoled me when I had noone else who would do that for me. My parents are on holiday until tomorrow, the one friend who I told about your death literally just replied "I'm so sorry, that's so terrible, crying faces". But I needed more than that. I didnt get it until today when I woke up just as devastated as I was yesterday and went to have lunch with my grandmother, who also knew you. And who liked you, too.

"The green-eyed one" is what she called you. The green-eyed one, because green eyes you had. So beautiful, so big. In German, we like to say "Telleraugen". Eyes as big as plates. She was also visibly devastated. It is always said to tell your old grandmother that another beloved person or animal died. So much pain they have gone through already, and it just keeps getting worse.

But we talked a lot and long about you. And how it happened. Probably happened. And who I suspect to be the murderer. Our immediate neighbours, one of them at least. When I opened the door, shortly after, I heard them leave. The woman left in her white car. But I was just glad she left, I didnt care what direction she drove off to, so I didnt see where she went. I wish I had. And usually she drives into the direction where I found you on the street. May God punish her for her sins, and do so gruelly and painfully. If it was her. Maybe it was him, because later he returned in his old, small motorcycle thing. Maybe it was him. He shall be punished just as hard and gruelly as his girlfriend if it was either of them. And if it wasnt, I wish your murderer the plague and death and a hell of a lot of gruesome pain for the rest of their pitiful life. My first suspicions had been the neighbours who had newly moved here the last couple of years. Some younger people and old people who dont care at all that we have limit here in our village of 30 kmh. Who just never care and race down the hill like they own the place. And then hit a cat that just casually wanted to get her breakfast from a human who loves her very much. I hate all of you spenders, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, and I hate this neighbourhood and I hope everyone here dies a cruel death. Bit most of all, I hope your murderer and all other spenders who put the lives of loved ones at risk, die gruesome and cruel deaths. Just like you had to. I still love you.

Time is progressing, my battery decreasing and it is getting colder. I've written so much by now, but I have so, so much more to talk about. Tomorrow, my arms and fingers will hurt because I typed all of this on my phone. But at least I still have a body and feelings that can hurt me. Unlike you, who is not here anymore.

That day yesterday was so cruelly terrible. Oh my god.

I was so restless the whole day because I didnt know what to do with your body. I put it in the semi-shed/semi-room at the back of our house, where the small greenhouse and the grave of my mother's beloved cat, who was also hit by a car, but out of nowhere after a whopping 7 years of life. The grave which is also there. I had put you in a wooden basket somewhat, onto kitchen roll. For the blood to drip onto. And to make it more comfortable in your death, even though it probably wouldn't have made a big difference, even if you could have, or would have, still felt it. It was a bit too small for you and when I picked you up, you were so heavy, and so motionless, like, and I hate to draw this comparison, but like a sack of potatoes. Heavy and motionless and it was so weird to lift you up without you moving and squirming and trying to get away from me. It was so strange, alien strange, horribly strange. I saw the puddle out of the corner of my eyes but I didnt really see anything and I didnt want to see anything, the lady with the dog just wanted you off the street and that's what I did. I was blind with tears and when I put that wooden basket thing down I saw I hadn't put your head in a too comfortable position so I... I moved you a bit so that your head wouldn't be down at your chest, and your legs moved instead a bit over the rim. Then I squatted there, looking at you. As I do a lot with my other cat. To make sure you really weren't breathing anymore. To discover that you would still be breathing and I could still take you to the vet after all and I would still be able to feed you and pet you, and all would be good. But after staring at you intensely for 2 minutes or so. Blood still dripping a tiny bit out of your mouth, just luckily I didnt have to see that, your head was still moved so that I couldn't really see your face, just mostly your body. But I saw the blood on the kitchen roll expanding. It was seemingly clear that you were. The four letters.

But I didnt really believe it. Not really. Not really so. I went back upstairs to cry, and to do something about my sadness. To call the vets, have you examined, get clearance. To put my sadness to work. And as I sat there at the kitchen table with the phones I still expected you to come running up the stairs, staring into the room and scratching the glass door to have your food. That you just passed out for an hour or two or so and would come back. I really did!

And every shadow I saw out of the corner of my eyes, I thought they were all you, returning from the backside of the houses happily and healthy and excited and quirky as ever. Just your usual self, you know.

But you didnt come, and I was restless. After I had talked to the first lady vet I realized, I decided it was most likely a car that hit you. So at least I knew how it most probably happened. But what do to with your body? And I didnt want to bring you away just yet. Because it was clear to me that I would have to bring her to the most horrible, ungrateful and unworthy of any beloved pet or animal place on earth. Because you weren't my mums favourite, and she wouldn't want you in her garden. But at lunch I asked her anyway. I texted her about that I found you dead in street in the morning, and if I could bury you next to Leeloo to give you the forever home you probably always wanted. Just a little too late.

But my mother said no. Well, not explicitly. But she suggested I take you there, and after I said I didnt want to but it is her garden and her decision. I had to wait another couple of hours, until 6 o'clock in the evening, one of which I spent half asleep in bed with our second cat, because the living still demanded my attention, oblivious of the fact that one of them had just reached the end of their road. Until 6 clock in the evening when she finally replied to take you there.

Up until that point, I had gone back a couple of times to check on you. I sat at the kitchen table knowing flies would be all over your body at some point, because this is not the first time I had to witness the dead body of one of our cats. And I didnt want the flies there so I covered you up with newspapers. Another time I came to you with scissors and an empty box that had stored Qtips, because I wanted something od you to remain with me for the rest of my life. And your fur look so inviting, not flat on your skin but a bit more wildly into the air. So I carefully cut a few tips of your fluffy silkness. The box is sitting in front of me in the book shelf, originally I wanted to bury at least this bit of you in the garden next to the beloved cat. I wanted at least some part of you to have a furever home. And I still do. But I cant do it just yet. It could be that I will just keep it here. But I will definitely put up a stone with writing on it, saying "In love and remembrance of Susi".

Another time, before that, I think, I spent a long while sitting on the tiny stone rim in front of Leeloos grave, because I was pondering if I shouldn't just bury you anyway, despite what my mother says about you. But it was her garden, so I didnt. Just this one time, I wish I had not done as I was told. I wish I hadn't even asked.

But there, in the middle of the path to the grave, there were a bunch of unusally long daisies growing l, and I had the strong desire to put up flowers for Susi. For you. So I picked them and laid them down next to your body.

I think I went down another time, always in "full gear", with heavy boots on because the grass at the backside is usually wet and gross. But you laid on concrete in the semi-room, so no worries. So I went down there just to be with you. Because I still didnt want to believe it. I couldn't believe it. I refused to. I thought if I just spent some more time with you, you would wake back up. I had one of the masks on and one time gloves when I touched you. Which I didnt for the most part.

When I had Google about the poison, many people describe situations like your death. No, sorry, I googled what the blood meant, and that is where I found it could be poison, or even a heart attack, or inner injuries. But these people also described their cats having their eyes open, so I went to check your eyes cause I hadn't seen them. And they were open. Though I only saw one. One side of your face. If your cute, beautiful face. And I tried to close them, it, but almost immediately realized it didnt work, so I gave up. But I wish I could have done at least that for you.

[themoneybuff-blog]

Some Hard Questions

What do I really need in life? What do I need to have a life thats enjoyable? What do I need to get out of bed in the morning, to feel something positive inside of me? What things am I spending money on that are just giving me bursts of pleasure but not bringing me lasting sources of positive feelings in my life? What things am I spending money on that I actually dont care about much at all? What could I be building if I wasnt spending that money on things that dont really matter to me? I find myself asking these questions about my own life quite often, and theyre hard questions to answer. My actual needs in life are few. Basic food. Water. Basic clothing. Shelter. Id probably include some form of human connection in there, because over time most of us (myself included) break down without that. Something to occupy my mind, because, again, without that, Id probably break down over time. Everything else is really just a want, not a need. So, why do I want those extra things? Almost universally, I want those extra things because I believe they will bring me pleasure or happiness or to avoid discomfort. I eat tasty food because it brings me pleasure. I eat healthy food to avoid discomfort (now and in the future). I have a nice house because it brings me pleasure its more shelter than I need. I can go on and on and on like this. Now, there are some things in life that really do provide lasting pleasure for us. Theyre worth it in terms of the resources we exchange for them. For example, I think a modest home for a family falls into that category; below a certain size, its uncomfortable, but above a certain size, theres a lot of wasted space. However, when Im honest with myself, the things that get me to jump out of bed in the morning are rarely related to things Ive bought. Almost always, I get out of bed because Im excited about the things Im going to do and (often) the people Im going to do them with, and those things often do not involve spending money. Specific things that get me out of bed feeling excited for the day include: * Doing something with my family, or taking care of them in some meaningful way. * Doing something that gets me into a flow state, which means that its an activity I get so absorbed into in an active mental and physical way that I lose track of time, such as writing or martial arts practice or playing a challenging board game with friends or getting absorbed in a challenging book. * An adventure of some kind, like a hike or a visit from an old friend or a dinner party or a planned day of geocaching or a day with my wife or a day with my kids. * Having a bunch of good writing ideas * Having some personal projects that Im about to reach a milestone with or about to complete Heres the big thing to notice: None of those things costs any significant amount of money. None. The things that really make me feel excited and full of zest for life almost always have very little cost involved. The truth is that most of the money I spend is spent on things that bring me rather fleeting bursts of pleasure, pleasure that fades and rarely turns into anything lasting. Often, Ill spend money on things that dole out those fleeting bursts of pleasure, like my cell phone or my Netflix subscription, but theyre never going to be things that cause me to jump out of bed in the morning. The key idea Ive been trying to live by for the last few years is this: Does this expense add in a meaningful way to anything thats really important in my life and brings me consistent, lasting joy, the kind that gets me out of bed in the morning? If I cant give a strong yes as an answer, Im not going to spend money on it. Dont we need those little bursts of pleasure, though? Sure, but you can get those for free, or extremely cheap. I get them when I go outside on a warm day or when I drink some ice water with just a little lemon in it. I get them when I hold my wife close to me or when I laugh with my children. I get them when I play a great board game with a friend or when I have a couple of hours to get lost in a good book. The temptation to chase those pleasure bursts is strong, though. I wont deny that the temptation to just throw money at something thats going to bring me a burst of pleasure right away and then fades quickly is a big one. Things that give regular little hits of pleasure are particularly tempting. Social media. Television. Little treats. Sweets. The list goes on and on. My challenge is to remember that the things that genuinely support and protect the sources of lasting, meaningful happiness the things that get me out of bed in the morning are where my money and resources should be spent. That means securing a strong retirement. That means working hard all through the week so I can have some big blocks of free time on the weekend. That means minimizing the things that arent really important to me so I have time and money for the things that are. This isnt something that you just decide one day and thats that. This is a constant series of decisions, choosing to turn away from spending money and resources on things that arent meaningful in your life and choosing instead to spend money and resources on things that are meaningful, that are the very things that get you to spring out of bed in the morning. It all starts with one simple question. What are the things you live for, the things that get you out of bed in the morning, the things that drive you forward and youre driven to do? Those are the things your money should be centered around, not the little bursts of pleasure that fade away, not the things that just provide a steady dose of little pleasures that never add up to anything. My goal is simple: I want to build a life where every day is filled with things that get me out of bed in the morning. That means thinking about how I spend my money and how I spend my time and cutting out those uses that dont lead to that kind of life. Some things to think about: Does the brand of laundry soap I use ever change how I feel about getting out of bed in the morning? If no, then why buy anything other than the most inexpensive one that gets my clothes clean. Does social media ever change how I feel about getting out of bed in the morning in a positive way? If no, then why should I use it? Does a really good cup of coffee change how I feel about getting out of bed in the morning? Actually, this ones a maybe, so it makes sense to seek out the best cup of coffee for the price and for the effort for me, and thats cold brew coffee made in the fridge. I just keep asking those kinds of questions, and you should, too. Use the money you make and the time you have to build a life that gets you excited to get out of bed each morning. Dont spend money or time on anything that doesnt. Thats what its all about. In the end, thats what almost all of the advice on The Simple Dollar is all about tactics for getting you there. Good luck. https://www.thesimpledollar.com/some-hard-questions/

[hello-thefatlosshabit-blr]

One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered. We want to be optimistic, but we don’t want to be a naive optimist. The naive optimist ignores the obstacles in their way and believes that they will not confront any challenges while striving to accomplish their goal. The realistic optimist believes in their ability to accomplish their goal despite the obstacles in their way. They acknowledge and prepare for the obstacles which makes them much more likely to achieve their goal. We want to have faith in our ability to overcome obstacles, not naively believe we won’t encounter them.

Research shows that predicting how and when you might be tempted to break a resolution increases the chances that you will keep it.[i]When you are working on developing a daily discipline, ask yourself: “When am I most likely to be tempted to give in? What situation is most likely to get me sidetracked? What excuses will I give myself to procrastinate?” Once you have such a scenario mapped out in your mind, imagine yourself in that situation, what it will feel like, and what you might be thinking?  If we are struggling to form a habit, it shouldn’t be difficult to imagine what situations will cause us to slip off our path, because these situations must have occurred for us to be struggling with forming the habit now.If you enjoyed this article, please LIKE and SHARE. 

Why is imagining the situations that will cause us to fail such a useful tool for overcoming our willpower challenges? It’s because once we have identified them, we can anticipate them and develop a plan to either avoid the situation or mitigate the temptation. When you have a definite strategy in mind, imagine yourself doing it. Envision what it will feel like to succeed. The more you mentally rehearse your plan, the more likely you are to execute it successfully when the temptation confronts you.

While planning missions in the military, two things were drilled into us. The first was to keep our plans as simple as possible by avoiding unnecessary complexity. We were taught the acronym KISS, “Keep it simple, stupid.” Simple plans are easier to execute. Complexity is the enemy of execution. The second was to rehearse, rehearse, and rehearse. The simpler your plan is, and the more you rehearse it, the better you will execute your plan. Execution is critical. Plans do not produce results unless you execute them.

Gabriele Oettingen a clinical psychologist and author of Rethinking Positive Thinking: Inside the New Science of Motivation, found that regardless of the goal, weight loss, obtaining a high-paying job after college, finding your soul mate, or recovering from hip replacement surgery, being a realistic optimist dramatically increases your odds of success. Realistic optimist recognizes the pitfalls that lay in front of them and develop a plan to address them. They don’t overestimate their ability to overcome challenges through willpower alone. They shape their environment and create if-then plans to shape their behavior. Realistic optimists have meals ready to eat in their freezer, they submit more job applications, they exercise more courage to meet potential romantic partners, and they create daily routines around rehabilitation exercises.[ii]

We must believe in ourselves, but one of the worst things we can do is underestimate the challenges we must overcome or overestimate our finite and fickle abilities to overcome them. Presuming that our willpower will always be adequate to the challenge of overcoming every temptation is folly. We need to recognize the challenges before we encounter them and develop a plan, based on proven strategies, to overcome those challenges. We should seek the advice of people that have done it.

Everyone struggles with procrastination, laziness, and overcoming distractions to make progress toward their goals. The bigger the goal, the more likely we are to be intimidated by it. The more likely we’ll be to procrastinate. When a reporter asked Earnest Hemmingway how he set about writing a novel, he replied, “First you defrost the refrigerator.” While I am no Hemmingway, the task of writing a book can seem overwhelming. To prevent the enormity of the task overwhelming me, I focus on writing the next paragraph or outlining the next chapter. A beautiful book about the joys, struggles, and rewards of writing is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. She describes writing as a gritty endeavor that requires courage to overcome procrastination born out of perfectionism to produce that “shitty first draft.” She says, “Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend.”

Her book’s title reminds me to focus on taking that next small step to produce that shitty first draft. I remember the story of Anne Lamott’s brother for which the book is titled. She recounts the story in her book: “Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, “Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.” Her father’s simple advice is something we can all use as a tool to stop procrastinating and take one small step, and then another.

It is a common mistake to think that our weaknesses are unique to us. They aren’t. Many of us wrongly believe that our weakness of willpower reveals a profound flaw in our character. It doesn’t. Frailties and imperfections are common. It is part of what it means to be human. They are so common that we marvel at and celebrate those that can overcome them. Weakness is a part of the human condition. We need to understand our limitations and develop effective strategies for coping with them. We all struggle with willpower, but most of us never seek a better understanding of it. The better we understand our human frailties, the better we can manage them to overcome our willpower challenges.

The only way to beat procrastination is to overcome the mental obstacles to starting. Marla Cilley, the creator of the 5-Minute Room Rescue, found an ingenious way to help us overcome procrastination. She suggests you commit to five minutes of work. For example, tell yourself, “All I am asking for is a five-minute commitment, after that we can stop.” Of course, after starting it is much easier to keep going. This same tactic can be applied to performing a workout when you just are not feeling it. Tell yourself, “let’s get changed, grab a cup of coffee, and warm-up for five minutes, and if we still are not feeling it, we can quit.” Once you get started, it is unlikely you won’t be able to finish the workout.

We have one brain but two minds. One mind is motivated by base instincts and strong emotions, the other is logic driven and focused on our long-term goals. Emotions are powerful. Overcoming them through sheer force of will is very taxing and can deplete our willpower reserves quickly, leaving us more vulnerable to the next temptation. Shrinking the commitment, by asking for only 5-minutes of work is a very effective strategy for overcoming our feelings. The more consistently we can overcome our emotions to do what is in line with our long-term goals the more successful we will be.

Consistency is the key to making progress. John Maxwell’s Power of Five provides a great example of the power of small persistent actions. He asks what would happen if you had a large tree on your property and you committed to taking five swings at it each day? The answer is always the same; the tree will eventually fall. It doesn’t matter how large the tree is. He has written over 70 successful books using the Power of Five. We are often intimidated by the large trees in our life, but if we just committed toward doing a little each day, instead of being overwhelmed by them we would achieve incredible results.

When it comes to writing, I subscribe to Steven King’s philosophy, “Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to much creative fluttering. This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks. Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ’til noon or seven ’til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up.” I keep showing up. The worst thing we could do is judge ourselves too harshly and believe our weakness of willpower reveals a unique flaw in our character instead of what it is, ordinary human frailty.

The three most important things to understand about willpower is: (1) we need to get adequate sleep each night to begin the day with the maximum amount of willpower (2) our willpower depletes as our day progresses, and (3) the more self-control we are forced to exercise, the faster the rate of depletion. Stress and fatigue are the enemies of willpower. If you wake-up each morning tired, you’re already starting the day at a willpower disadvantage. Most people need at least 7.5 to 8.5 hours of sleep each day. Since our willpower is greatest at the beginning of each day, that would be the best time to schedule the tasks that require the most willpower. You’ll also find you have a lot fewer interruptions in the morning. The last strategy and perhaps the most important is to avoid taxing our willpower unnecessarily. We want to shape our environment to promote positive habits and discourage negative ones.

I have made writing a daily a habit, so it doesn’t require much willpower anymore. It is just a part of my day. Most times I can block out distractions and my ideas flow. Sometimes I cannot, but I keep showing up, determined and excited to make whatever little bit of progress I can make each day with the time that I can set aside. I write in the early morning hours because the rest of my day is filled with personal and professional commitments. I know that if I keep plugging away, I will eventually complete this book and the other books I have already outlined. The key to finishing is to develop the habit of starting again each day. I don’t rely on willpower to write each day; I rely on my morning schedule. I don’t struggle with the decision. I look at the clock, and when it says 4:30 AM, my mind says it is time to write. Routines reap results because they don’t rely on willpower, that fickle friend that is never there for you when you need him. Disciplined habits are our best friends. “A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules.” Anthony Trollope

The more we rely on willpower as our strategy for success, the less likely we are to achieve our goals. The problem with willpower is that it depletes as the day progresses and leaves us naked to temptation. It is more useful to shape our environment to reduce temptations and distractions than to rely on willpower and grit. When we overestimate our willpower, we unnecessarily expose ourselves to people, situations, and environments that will tempt us to break our resolutions. “Research shows that people who think they have the most willpower are actually the most likely to lose control when tempted. For example, smokers who are the most optimistic about their ability to resist temptation are the most likely to relapse four months later, and overoptimistic dieters are the least likely to lose weight. Why? They fail to predict when, where, and why they will give in. They expose themselves to more temptation,” Kelly McGonigal.

Ronald Amundsen

The 1909 race to the South Pole illustrates the necessity to identify the challenges ahead of you, learn from the success of those who have gone before you, and not to rely too heavily on grit and determination to push through whatever obstacles you encounter. Two teams took-up the challenge of being the first to reach the South Pole. One group was led by British Naval Officer Robert Scott and the other lead by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen.

Amundsen gave his people the best possible equipment, and paced their journey to ensured he gave his men plenty of time to rest along the route. Scott’s team was ill-equipped. Inadequate clothes lead to frostbite, and poor goggles lead to snow blindness. Amundsen used dogs to haul their provisions, while Scott used untried motorized sleds which quickly failed, forcing his men to carry their provisions on sleds.

At the South Pole: Wilson (left), Scott, Oates (standing); Bowers and Evans (sitting)

Scott pushed on and ultimately made it to the South Pole, albeit one month behind Amundsen’s team. Tragically, no one on Scott’s team would survive the journey back, while Amundsen’s team returned with no severe maladies. There are many reasons for the radically different outcomes, but ultimately it was Scott’s overconfidence in the grit and resilience of his team that caused him to underestimate the difficulty of their journey. His dying words illustrate this point. “Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale.”[iii]

I don’t want to diminish their courageous act of perseverance, but merely wish to point out that it could have been avoided. Scott could have given his team a better chance of success if he had better identify the challenges and better understood the limits of human endurance. This program offers tools to make your journey more manageable, but certainly not effortless. You will have to demonstrate some grit and willpower, but much less than if you didn’t use the proper strategies. The mistake I want us to avoid making is relying too heavily on willpower.

A plan that relies too heavily on willpower is doomed to failure. We are foolish to subject ourselves to temptation needlessly. Willpower is a fickle thing that often leaves us during our time of greatest need. As Shakespeare put it, “we are devils to ourselves, when we will tempt the frailty of our powers.”[iv] We shouldn’t tempt fate by relying on willpower when an effective strategy could reduce or eliminate the need for willpower. The proven strategies contained in this program will give you the greatest odds of success. Why make your journey any more difficult than it needs to be? The best use of our willpower is the implementation of strategies to reduce our need to exercise it.

The distance between our goals and where we are is the journey before us. When we choose to spend time with people that exhibit negative attitudes and behaviors, we are deciding to put rocks in our backpack. If we are trying to eat healthier but choose to stock our pantry with junk food, we are choosing to make our journey harder. We are consciously choosing to put pebbles in our shoes. Many people say they don’t want to deprive their kids, of what exactly I don’t know, a lifetime of sugar addiction? I believe desserts should be an occasional treat, not a daily indulgence.

These rocks and pebbles won’t produce an immediate failure, but they will make failure inevitable. The extra weight will slow your progress, and the pebbles will grind away at your resolve with each step you take; until you eventually give up. When your willpower finally gives out, you’ll blame it for your lack of success, instead of your decision to expose yourself to the temptations unnecessarily. You are going to need grit and willpower, just like Amundsen’s team surely did to successfully navigate the South Pole, but they combined it with the right tools and strategies.

Save your limited willpower for the temptations you cannot avoid, instead of putting more in your path. You are going to be tempted at the office to eat the donuts, cookies, and birthday cakes on a regular basis. Our supply of willpower can vary significantly from day to day depending on how stressful our day has been. This is especially true as the day wears on, and our ability to exert willpower is depleted to almost nothing. If we get adequate sleep each night, we begin the day with a willpower reservoir that is fully restored like your cellphone battery. The more we use it throughout the day, the quicker it depletes. Ever notice that most of our bad habits occur late at night?

That is because our willpower has evaporated and all we are left with is our desire to seek instant gratification and relief from our stressful day. Shaping your environment by eliminating the temptations you will encounter in the evening is the most effective strategy you can adopt. The next most effective technique is establishing an evening ritual that supports your goals. Habits conserve our willpower because they don’t require our conscious mind to decide what to do. The decision is made automatic through repetition. Our primitive mind encounters the cue and executes the routine automatically.

Change agents often find that what appears to be a people problem is a situation problem. Instead of taking on the difficult task of changing our behavior through willpower, we can often tweak our environment and make change happen painlessly. Instead of relying on workers following proper procedures, safety engineers install guards and controls to prevent workers from taking shortcuts that put themselves at risk. They do this because they know that it is easier to tweak the environment; rather than to force 100% compliance with proper procedure as workers become overconfident and complacent.

I hope you’ll decide to become an optimistic realist. I hope I have convinced you that we cannot ignore the challenges in front of us or imagine a future in which they won’t exist. We must develop a plan that relies less on willpower and more on structuring our environment to make good habits easier and bad habits more difficult. Our environment profoundly influences our behavior, so it is only logical that we would want to shape it to promote good habits and discourage bad ones.

A realistic optimist anticipates the challenges that are outside their control so they can develop and rehearse a simple plan to address them. If you are struggling to exercise five days a week consistently, I want you to first ask yourself “why am I NOT going to train five days this week?” Then I want you to develop a plan that will allow you to overcome the excuses. Optimism is an excellent source of motivation, but naïve optimism is a recipe for failure that ends in bitter disappointment. I want you to believe in yourself, but I want that believe to be based on the world as it is, and not based on the world as you would wish it to be. I want you to be a realistic optimist.

Best wishes and best health!

[i] Kelly McGonigal, The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It, Avery; Reprint edition (December 31, 2013)

[ii] Heidi Grant, Be an Optimist Without Being a Fool, Harvard Business Review, MAY 02, 2011

[iii] John C. Maxwell, The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership, HarperCollins Leadership; Revised & Updated edition (September 16, 2007)

[iv] William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida Translation, Act 4, Scene 4

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Are you ready to reboot and reset your relationship with food and exercise? Most programs focus on the mechanics of weight loss but fail to adequately address the psychology of change required. Most people know more than enough about nutrition and exercise to lose weight, but fail to act. This book takes a new approach to getting leaner, fitter, and stronger. 

The Fat Loss Habit: Creating Routines that Make Willpower and Fat Loss Automatic takes a new approach to getting leaner, fitter, and stronger. The program uses high-impact change strategies that make the process of adopting a healthy lifestyle easier. The nutrition and workout program, like the change techniques, have all been proven effective, and are all backed by research and scientific studies.

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We want to be optimistic, but we don’t want to be a naive optimist. The naive optimist ignores the obstacles in their way and believes that they will not confront any challenges while striving to accomplish their goal. One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered…

[fashiontrendin-blog]

3 Adult Bedtime Stories That Won’t Put You to Sleep

http://fashion-trendin.com/3-adult-bedtime-stories-that-wont-put-you-to-sleep/

3 Adult Bedtime Stories That Won’t Put You to Sleep

In partnership with CALVIN KLEIN.

I’ve always found the human act of climbing into bed and falling asleep to be one of our most endearing qualities. We can screw up at work, break someone’s heart, then violently knock down a tomato soup tower at the grocery store, but we’ll still end the day by crawling into fluffy, human-sized pockets to drift off to dreamland. I know sleep is biologically required of us, but when you remove the routine-laden context of it all, it’s actually quite a spectacular show of self-love. Our beds are like adorable little nests built with tender and cozy intention, whether we mean for them to be or not.

I think that’s why beds are, for many of us, the safest places in our homes. When we’re kids, they’re where we’re tucked in, read to and comforted. As teenagers, they’re where we collapse in dramatic tears and read books that take us to far-away worlds. As adults, they’re where we nuzzle in when we’re feeling lonely, make phone calls to people we love or even where we get work done when we’re feeling particularly productive. When you think about it, beds are the ultimate metaphor for the human propensity to be vulnerable.

To explore this phenomenon, Man Repeller partnered with CALVIN KLEIN to peek into the relationships we have with our beds. Below you’ll find three human stories that explore life through the lens of our safest place, along with photos of their narrators clad in CALVIN KLEIN UNDERWEAR, shot in the CALVIN KLEIN section of Bed, Bath & Beyond. These aren’t your average bedtime stories, but they’re just as touching, if you ask me.

Kate Barnett

Kate is the President of Man Repeller.

When I first starting working with Leandra on Man Repeller back in 2011, we didn’t have an office. Leandra was working from her apartment, and I was working from a casita in rural New Mexico with an unusually strong internet connection, while my now-fiancé built adobe homes. Northern New Mexico is directly below Colorado and gets freezing — which we hadn’t adequately prepared for that first winter. We moved everything into the living room, placed the bed as close to the fireplace as possible, and closed off the back half of the house entirely.

I spent the next four months huddled under blankets on my bed in child’s pose, with my computer in front of me, bowing to my connection to the world outside and developing Man Repeller’s monetization strategy. For video meetings, I’d throw on some mascara, blush and a blazer, carefully position my laptop to hide the fact that my bottom half was still in a bed cocoon, and casually mention that I was “out West,” hoping people would assume that meant L.A.

Looking back, I think that time mirrors where we were with Man Repeller in a really beautiful way. We were (and still are) super scrappy, hustling to bring this vision to life. The joy and excitement of building the company paired with our passion for what we were actually building led to this crucial, open-ended freedom to be creative in addressing obstacles, while also fueling the bottomless energy a start-up feeds on. When I think back to those big moments of hitting milestones early on, particularly with brand partnerships and revenue, I’m in bed, messaging with Leandra while on a call because I’m too excited about whatever’s going on to just wait and update her after, clad in long underwear, fingerless gloves, a beret and every blanket we had.

Eventually, as the team and company grew, we got our first office, then our second and third, and I moved back to New York. These days, if I’m working from bed it usually means I threw my back out, but there’s definitely some magic when I think back to the early years.

Crystal Anderson

Crystal is the Operations Manager at Man Repeller.

When my partner Shakira recently relocated to Wisconsin for work, I was about as bummed as a person can be. She left super early in the morning, right around the time my little dog Blanche is usually ready to party. But that morning, Blanche made herself comfy on Sharika’s side of the bed instead. I ended up staying there into the afternoon, and Blanche never left my side. She was truly in service of my needs that day and it was the most beautiful interaction I’ve ever had with an animal. It was an incredibly raw moment; I’ll never forget it. It’s like she knew what I needed.

I don’t know if I possess the emotional intelligence that my dog does. I’ve always said that when it comes to Blanche and me, it’s hard to determine who’s taking care of who, so this story reminds me that I am worthy and available to both love and be loved, to be of service and to be served.

My bed has always been a respite for me. It welcomes me and creates a safe space; probably the safest space I know. I crawl into my bed for so many reasons other than sleep. My bed represents raw and real love. It’s the place where I tell (and show) my partner I love her, as often as I can. Where I snuggle with my dog after a long day. It’s where I check in on my friends and family; there’s nothing like a nice long call full of laughing in bed!

Most importantly though, at the moment, given that my life is in a bit of transition with some many new things happening, it’s a place that I’m learning to reconnect with myself (physically, emotionally and spiritually), by myself, and it’s really lovely.

Imani Randolph

Imani is the Editorial Intern at Man Repeller.

I remember months before I left for college, I scoured the internet for the perfect dorm room decor. I put the most energy into finding my duvet cover, as I decided it would be the core piece that held the rest of my decorations together. I eventually landed on a beige one with a subtle floral pattern. My mom thought it was a bit overpriced, but in the end, she agreed to it, because we both wanted my dorm to feel like home.

When move-in day arrived, my parents and I were a jumbled mess of nerves and excitement. The first thing I wanted to do when we got to my room was set up my bed, but my mom suggested we do it last. She was ultimately right; we needed to use my bed as a landing place for my boxes and suitcases in the process of unpacking. After we put my clothes and shoes in the closet (check), organized my school supplies in drawers (check), hung up posters and artwork (check), it was finally time to make my bed. Before I could even locate my fresh new sheets, my mother’s hands were placing them on the mattress: “I’m making the bed,” she declared, with a certain definiteness I can still hear. And just like that, a tradition was born. We’ve maintained this little routine every year of college move-in. Even if I do everything else, she makes the bed.

I can’t remember what sparked it, but upon moving back to school for my final year of college, my mom and I got in a trivial argument that almost led to her not making my bed for the last time. We’re both typically on edge when it’s time for me to head back to school; the separation always feels intense since we’re extremely close. But in the face of the bed-making tradition being broken, I realized how essential it was. My mother’s foremost priority has always been making me feel safe and self-assured, and our tradition has served as a sentimental reminder that no matter how much older I get, how many new experiences I have, or how many far-away places I go, she will always be there to provide the comfort and security that I need.

In the end, I swallowed my pride and apologized and the tradition was upheld, perfectly tucked corners included. Today I feel prepared to make my own choices, but the foundation she’s laid is exactly what has given me the strength to do so.

9 PHOTOS click for more

Photos by Edith Young; Styled by Harling Ross; Makeup by Whitney Ray. 

[peopleofconnecticutquotes]

The Rural Magazine and Farmer’s Monthly Museum, 1819

Page 11: It has often been remarked, and always with truth, that the people of Connecticut are a studious and reflecting people—that knowledge is more generally diffused amongst them, than it is in any portion of this, or any other country. We do not speak of that scientific knowledge, which has given fame to a Bacon, a Newton, and a Locke—a Rittenhouse, a Franklin, and a Rush, but of that knowledge which gives every man some ideas upon almost every subject.

Page 18: This address might be extended through numerous pages, each of which might be crowded with facts, showing the natural advantages possessed by the people of Connecticut. They only need to improve them, to procure for themselves all the wealth that is necessary for enjoyment—all the food and clothing that is necessary for the support of life—and enjoy as much happiness as a bounteous and merciful Providence sees fit to afford to man in this world.

Page 23: In addressing you, we address a portion of our fellow citizens some of whom have arisen to opulence—some of whom have struggled against adverse circumstances, and some of whom have been reduced to indigence, in the laudable endeavor, to advance the manufacturing interest of the state. We speak with diffidence upon a subject, with which we can claim but little practical acquaintance. But, deeply impressed with the immense importance of manufactures, to the present and future interest of the people of Connecticut, we cannot remain silent. From an acquaintance with every section of the state, the writer, without hesitation, asserts that no country affords greater facilitates for manufactures. Although within its limits, every raw material necessary for the great variety of manufactures are not produced, they are easily procured.

Page 58: I here checked Ariel for his enthusiasm. He seemed mortified and chagrined that I should have even a momentary doubt of his accuracy. Ariel! said I, a beneficent Providence has showered down blessings in rich profusion upon every portion of the world. Even the wandering Arab of Zaharah finds blessings upon that outspread and cheerless desert. After a short pause, Ariel declared, “That the only way that we could determine the superiority of one country to another, was, by comparing them together.” Certainly, said I—and now proceed to point out the peculiar advantages enjoyed by the people of Connecticut. This command restored Ariel to a state of animated joy; and he thus proceeded,—“Connecticut has a climate that invigorates the human system—a soil that furnishes man with all the variety of animal and vegetable food—waters that facilitate transportation; aid the manufacturer and mechanic, and furnish the most excellent fish. But, sir, I will omit at this moment, to say more of its natural advantages. In a literary, moral, and religious point of view, Connecticut certainly stands preeminent—not that it produces more scientific scholars, more correct moralists, or more sincere christians, than other states and countries—but, literature is more generally diffused—morality has a more universal influence, and the benign influence of religion affects more hearts than in any country I ever visited.”

Page 65: Perhaps no patent implement was ever offered to the people of Connecticut, with such flattering attestations in its favor; and no gentleman ever arrived amongst us better entitled to patronage, than Mr. Barnard. Emigration of our enterprising artists from the state, has long been so common, and into it so seldom, that such an event augurs favorably for our growing interest and prosperity.

Page 91: Since scribbling the above, Ariel has returned; and as he has explored a second time the whole state of Connecticut, he assumed visibility before me, and enquired, with great apparent interest, “Why, upon a certain day, all the good people of Connecticut were in array against each other?” I told him it was not his business to enquire, nor mine to explain. “Well, sir,” said he, “what astonished me most was, that upon the very next morning, the most perfect harmony was completely restored; and the whole population returned to their wonted employments. Such a scene I never before witnessed, and scarcely believed it possible that it could have been presented to an observer.” Ariel, said I, the people of Connecticut are a “peculiar people.” Tenacious of their rights, they yet differ in regard to the most expedient mode of securing them. Taught from the cradle, the necessity of order—“Heaven’s first Law”—they know it can never be maintained but by regular subordination. Cautious into whose hands they entrust power, they cheerfully submit to its proper exercise. “Happy people,” exclaimed he, “may the unparalleled blessings they enjoy be perpetuated.”

Page 99: Amongst the numerous bounties bestowed by a beneficent Providence, upon the people of Connecticut, but few can exceed the fish in our numerous streams; and but few are less regarded, or more abused. The writer has often been told by men, not very far advanced in life, that they distinctly remember the time when it was actually considered a disgrace to be found eating shad, one of the finest of fish that swims in salt or fresh water. Alewives, which literally throng some of our streams, are still considered as the humblest food. It must be admitted that a land which flows with milk and honey—beef and pork—butter and cheese—poultry and—everything, has less need of the delicious product of the waters, than those desolate portions of the globe that produce nothing else. But all these blessings cannot, at all times, be procured by all; and if a wholesome and nourishing food can so easily and cheaply be procured by the poorer classes of society, they certainly ought to avail themselves of the benefit.

Page 123: The people of Connecticut, are however, too well informed—too reflecting—too cautious to be long duped by quacks in politics, theology, law, medicine, and, in what is sometimes called “human science.” Sound reason, sound science, and sound common sense ultimately prevails; and although a “rattler” may astonish the wondering multitude, by a kind of liquid eloquence, which drops from his lips like dew from a cabbage leaf, he will very shortly be consigned to the insignificance from which he emerged; and sound judgment, like the needle to the pole, will direct the head to decide right, and the heart to obey its decisions. W.

Page 160: Selected. [The following from the pen of a “Southern Man,” will not “inaptly apply” to some of the good people of Connecticut. The little purse-proud, and brain-empty fellows of our state, deserve lashing for their pomposity, as wells this in “The District of Columbia.”]

Page 166: There is scarcely a manufacturer, of any article in Connecticut, but who is dependent, more or less upon the furnace. Steam engines require its productions—Millers cannot pursue their business without their castings—the woolen manufacturer needs their aid—the cotton manufacturers are dead without their aid.—Rooms cannot be warmed by stoves, nor food cooked by them, unless we have furnaces. We might write a volume upon the importance of the “Air Furnace,” to the people of Connecticut—but our limits compel us to close this article by hoping that they will not forever “wander abroad,” for what they may as well, procure at home; and that Messrs. Goodwin, Dodd, and Gilbert, may meet with the success that their laudable enterprise entitles them to receive from an intelligent people.

Page 201: Many of my readers have enquired after my faithful—invisible agent Ariel. With the eyes of Argus, he has surveyed the people of Connecticut, in all the grades of life, from the man of fortune, who rolls in his coach, enjoying the evanescent splendor which wealth imparts, down to the worthy day laborer, who earns his bread by the sweat of the brow.

Page 202: He here changed the subject; and, in the most animated manner expressed his admiration, in terms of eloquent enthusiasm upon the present prospects of the people of Connecticut. He said, the “former harvest” was abundant, and the prospect of the “latter harvest” promising—that the farmer had all the happiness in possession, and in anticipation, which this world can afford—that the manufacturer and mechanic, had a market, at a “fair price,” for all the productions of his industry—that the merchant could sell all the foreign produce that the people wanted and could pay for—and that everybody might exclaim, with Pindar—

“Man may be happy if he will, I’ve said so oft, and think so still.”

I agreed with him exactly; but could not refrain from remarking, that men were not contented with the supply of the “wants of nature,” and very unwillingly “square their lives” by the dictates of “Reason;” but that “ruffled by passion,” and “tainted by pride,” they seemed to strive to render themselves unhappy.