#not that i ever got in the big leagues i was very mediocre but somehow. like many things of my childhood

[lesbicastagna]

went to a dance show and it always makes me miss the theater so much all the rehearsals endless hours waiting in the dressing rooms the needle stabs while fitting on the costumes That specific theater smell..

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, the "Justice League" finally got its own movie, eh? Oh, that thing from 2017 was just trash. It's gone. We don't need to look at it anymore.

But in all seriousness, it's great people called out for the Zack Snyder cut of the movie and actually got it! And, yes, it is a vast improvement over the Joss Whedon cut.

Now, my feelings about the DCEU have been pretty divided:

I actually did enjoy "Man of Steel" and found Superman to be relatable and likable for once (I'm not a Superman fan and don't come for me)

"Wonder Woman" was very entertaining and easily the best entry for me in the movie series so far.

"Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice" was a hot mess. Lots of good ideas but it was executed poorly. It felt kind of cheesy at times, especially that whole "Save Martha" thing. Jesse Eisenburg is not a convincing Lex Luthor. Ben Affleck is not a good actor and is a terrible Batman/Bruce Wayne. He's not as bad as George Clooney, but he's not much better either.

"Wonder Woman 1984" was a massive glow-down. Poor quality writing, Maxwell Lord was a weak villain, Cheetah was laughable, and the ending was so goddamn corny! Not to mention, it took ages for anything interesting to happen, and what was the deal with Steve Trevor possessing another dude's body? I mean...what?

Haven't seen "Suicide Squad" in its entirety but I do know and have seen enough to decide that it's a huge misstep. Haven't seen "Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)" either but I have some interest in it so perhaps someday.

Haven't watched "Aquaman" but probably will eventually but I'm just not very motivated to see it. I like Jason Mamoa as Aquaman/Arthur Curry, but...I don't know. The trailers didn't really grab my attention.

The 2017 Joss Whedon version of "Justice League" was terrible -- worse than "Batman v Superman," worse than "Wonder Woman 1984." I thought the movie moved too quickly, lacked proper character development, and had some bad CGI (I mean, Mustache Gate, am I right?)

Onto the Synder Cut for "Justice League!" Spoilers ahead, of course:

These are really a collection of thoughts, opinions, and observations I had while watching the movie. I have only seen the 2017 film once and honestly don't want to watch it ever again, not even to "refresh my memory" of some details.

Steppenwolf

Steppenwolf was such a pitiful villain in the Whedon Cut. The CGI for him was terrible, and he looked like some weird dude in armor. His personality and motives were paper thin as well. He was a throw-away, token villain, and the only things memorable about him was his name and voice.

In the Snyder Cut, not only was Steppenwolf's CGI much more refined, his character design was imposing. His armor seemed to be alive, too, always shifting slightly, this way and that, which was an impressive sight. His motives, while nothing too deep or extraordinary, gave him a little more depth: he pissed off Darkseid and had to make up for it, and was clearly afraid of what could happen to him if he failed.

The name and voice obviously were still memorable but combined with the other improvements to his character, they were icing on the cake.

That being said, I don't think Steppenwolf is as intriguing or even remotely sympathetic as Loki and Thanos in the MCU.

Darkseid

Was Darkseid even mentioned in the Whedon cut? I can't remember and I don't want to watch that shitty movie again just to find out. However, I don't recall Darkseid making an appearance or even being spoken of in the 2017 version. Now, I haven't read DC (or Marvel) comics, so I don't know a lot about the guy, but he is supposedly one of the more iconic villains.

His motives are pretty simple, though: command and conquer. There isn't a lot of depth so far in the movies but he does pose a much larger threat than Steppenwolf did. You could tell Steppenwolf was intimidated by Darkseid, who was about as cold and menacing as they come. He's a complete villain in that regard, having no emotions and only seeking power for himself.

He looked great in the Snyder Cut. He was actually really fucking scary-looking. He made the beefcake Steppenwolf look like a puppy.

I'm glad that Darkseid made an appearance, even if he didn't fight the Justice League. It alludes to a much broader story, as well as foreshadows an epic boss fight down the line -- assuming the Snyder Cut is popular enough to convince the studios to make a direct sequel and not just abandon things in favor of some sort of soft reboot.

Superman/Clark Kent/Henry Cavill/Mustache Gate

Let's get this out of the way: Henry Cavill is hot af.

Ok, now that we got that out of the way, hooray for Snyder for getting rid of those nasty reshoot scenes involving Henry's CGI'd mouth! Can't say I missed them, you know? I mean, in the 2017 Whedon Cut, you could always spot reshoot scenes based on whether or not Henry's mouth looked normal and totally strange.

I think the 2017 movie had Superman grab Batman by the neck and ask, "Tell me: Do you bleed?" I'm relieved that was removed from the Synder Cut because it added too much of an evil tone to Superman, and we could clearly tell he was most upset with Batman upon being revived.

One massive problem with the 2017 movie was that it made every member of the Justice League look like bumbling idiots without Superman's help. It was downright embarrassing and unrealistic. I mean, you're telling me that Wonder Woman, a goddess, can't take on Steppenwolf? Or Victor Stone, a cyborg with incredible abilities? Making Superman key to winning isn't the problem, it's how it was done in the 2017 movie. He's already OP but that shouldn't mean his comrades have to be useless in comparison.

Superman was allowed to be OP in the Snyder Cut without making his team look incompetent. Like in the Avengers movies, everyone in the Justice League had a purpose and all of them worked together to defeat Steppenwolf. Superman obviously was key to winning, but, again, it wasn't like he was the only capable one during the battle.

I did like the black suit. It's kind of ominous but also very cool at the same time. But is it also foreshadowing something? I don't know...I haven't read the comics so I really don't have any idea lol.

Batman/Bruce Wayne/Batfleck

One glaring issue I still have is Ben Affleck is a mediocre actor at best and he's a terrible Bruce Wayne/Batman. I mean, they couldn't have found anyone else? Someone with, like, good acting abilities?

Martian Manhunter

This whole time -- THIS WHOLE GOTDAMM TIME -- Martian Manhunter was hiding in plain sight! General Swanwick, who I remember from "Man of Steel," IS Martian Manhunter. I didn't see that coming. I mean, I knew Martian Manhunter would appear in the Snyder Cut but I didn't know he'd have an alternate identity, let alone that of an existing character in the DCEU.

As much as I did like seeing him, I am glad he didn't play a big part because the movie already has plenty of characters as is, and introducing yet another one could have slowed things down and taken away from developing the plot.

The Runtime/Pacing

I mentioned already that the Whedon Cut felt rushed and needed much more time to develop its characters and plot. While I had doubts about whether or not making "Justice League" four hours long would be a good idea, it turns out that it was just what the story needed.

Character development was actually existent, and Cyborg/Victor Stone received a detailed backstory, and Flash/Barry Allen got some extra tidbits added to his character's story/background as well.

I actually thought Victor was a fascinating (if a bit tragic) character in the Whedon cut and was disappointed that he just sort of, like, popped up and fought alongside the other Justice League members with the tiniest amount of depth.

Despite an epic 4-hour runtime, it didn't feel slow, nor did it feel like any scenes were "filler." Every scene had a purpose and kept the story moving at a steady, comprehensible pace. It felt more like a 2.5-3 hour movie, honestly, which is a feat since pacing can often be one of a film's biggest issues ("Avengers: Endgame" also accomplished this feat with its 3-hour runtime feeling more like 2-2.5 hours but with no negative side effects of that). Breaking the movie into chapters, including an epilogue was a tad strange because it's not a very common thing, but I think it helped break up the epic 4 hours into separate, manageable but still cohesive pieces. Also, they helped easily transition from one portion to the next smoothly without any awkward cuts.

The Flash/Barry Allen/Ezra Miller

Barry still amused me in the Whedon Cut. He brought some good-natured humor and charm to the movie, preventing it from being too brooding and intense.

I think Ezra is a talented actor and does well in the Barry Allen role but he is, unfortunately, a problematic person. I mean, if he gets recast, he gets recast but hopefully, they pick someone else who has some acting abilities worth noting (i.e. Not a Ben Affleck type of actor)

The Final Battle

It was a huge improvement over the 2017 cut, as everyone was key to winning the final battle, not just Superman. It is meant to be a team of costumed heroes defeating a villain, not just one OP member of the team outdoing everyone else.

That being said, I felt that the final battle was a little bit anti-climatic. I don't know what it was but I just thought that it would be longer? I expected more to happen? More fighting? Not sure how to describe it, but I do feel like it wasn't as impressive as it could have been.

The Epilogue

A dystopian future involving an evil Superman and Joker somehow working WITH Batman was just...crazy. I mean, evil Superman, I can believe, but Joker and Batman working together (even reluctantly) is quite a sight.

Based on what I've been reading, this nightmare Bruce has could be setting up not one but two sequels for "Justice League." I would like to see how things will play out even if things get kind of dark. I'm getting the impression that Darkseid will kill Lois Lane, thus breaking Superman emotionally and making him compliant. That is unless Bruce intervenes in this timeline and prevents that from happening...but at the expense of his own life. Oh dear...

I definitely enjoyed the Zack Snyder version of "Justice League," and would definitely watch it again and again and again. I already have forgotten the majority of the Whedon Cut, and after seeing Synder's version, I think the 2017 movie will be rendered null and void. I hope it is just expelled from the DCEU canon entirely. That, and we get the "Justice League" sequels, preferably from Zack Snyder (Say what you want but I think he is a pretty good director for the most part and seems to really care about this work).

I honestly want to see a fight between the Justice League and Darkseid because I think that's what we're trying to build up to, and seeing as how Darkseid is one of the legendary villains in the DC comics, I would be extremely disappointed if this doesn't come to pass.

Also, as much as I like Batman/Bruce Wayne, seeing him sacrifice himself to save the team, including Lois and thus Superman's sanity, would be something else. It would bring everyone even closer together, for one, and I think that the negativity shared between Batman and Superman in the past would be completely forgiven. I'm not saying there isn't forgiveness now, but dying to save Superman's wife would change everything....if that makes sense? Does it make sense? I'm terrible at explaining my thoughts sometimes.

[ethelphantom]

How to Become a Part of Your Target's Family as Told by Damian al Ghul (or should he say, Damian Dupain-Cheng)

You should be happy and very thankful. I would have given you angst, but then I came up with this and instead you're getting humour with little to no angst.

Ao3

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; Don’t read

___________________________

It was supposed to be easy.

He’d had her in his sights, she wasn’t moving at all, there were no obstacles between them, and she was just a girl. He knew how to aim a moving target even when he was moving as well, this should’ve been easier than ‘snatching candy from a baby’. He was rather certain that was the expression anyway.

But then…

Then why…

Why was she able to sneak up on him, now in front of him, and completely unharmed?

The girl — Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the Ladybug, he’d been told — was standing in front of her, looking like she was just disappointed. For some reason, the chance that was the case stung. She had his crossbow in her hands, as well as the arrow he had shot at her which she snapped in half, and with a sigh, she crossed her hands over her chest.

“Are they serious? A child? Do they really think I’m that easy to get rid of?” she asked, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. “Go home, kid, and please tell Ra’s that just because I said no to his offers doesn’t mean I should be underestimated. If he’s heard about all of his missions around here having gone wrong, he should have already realised it was me and that a kid isn’t going to be what takes me down.”

“I— what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god, I was just joking about the kid part, you’re just so short, but you’re actually a child? What are you, ten? Goodness, he’s getting even worse at this.”

Damian, for a moment forgetting all his training and the fact this girl was holding his weapon and that she could see him and was far too close to him for comfort, just stared at her. She was young as well, a little bit shorter than him, and dressed in a red skirt and satin shirt and there was no good reasoning or logic behind how she somehow had managed to approach him without him noticing.

The girl looked at him up and down as though she were sizing him up. Which, now that he thought about it, was most likely the case. “Well, aren’t you gonna try again? Why are you just standing there like an idiot? Surely Ra’s had you trained better.”

The words hit him a little too late, and his eyes just widened. Did this girl actually ask him if he was going to attempt assassinating her again? Just who was she? Was she to be killed because she had refused the league, had she said she was not going to join them? Or was it because she’d been ruining Grandfather’s missions? Was she even telling him the truth?

Still looking at him, she cocked her hips and tilted her head. “Kid, please. You’re the only one in a long time that has made even a mediocre attempt on my life, it’s offensive if you don’t try again. Not trying again would be rude. And you wouldn’t want to offend your target when you’ve also managed to fail at killing them? Like, please choose to either succeed and offend me or fail and at least try once more,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. Then she booped his nose. Which, excuse her? Who did this girl think she was? He was Damian of the House of al Ghul, the heir of Ra’s al Ghul and his League of Assassins, and he was not to be disrespected like this, by his target nonetheless.

This was so confusing. “You actually want me to kill you?” slipped from his lips.

The girl shrugged. “I mean, not really, I don’t think I would enjoy dying, but I do want you to try again. If you manage to kill me while you’re at it, that’s fine with me. It’s not like I didn’t ask you to do it.” The girl flipped her hair from her front to her back, pushing it away from her eyes. “Besides, I’m bored. You, kid, are the most interesting thing that has happened to me in weeks.”

Then she flipped out her yoyo — a yoyo? What even… — and made a ‘come here’ gesture with her hand. The crossbow she abandoned on the side, though not without taking it apart first.

Damian huffed out of irritation and unsheathed his sword, brows still furrowed because he was confused and rather offended for getting sassed by his own target for missing. It was humiliating.

He didn’t think enough much, and instead just went for her. That was… definitely a mistake on his part as she simply stepped aside, giggling. Giggling. That had him realise this was not a fight to be won without plans and she was not an opponent to be defeated all that easily, so he jumped and grabbed a tree branch above him, bringing himself to the safety of the shadows of the leaves. The shadows were familiar, they were home — they were the best place to hide.

He knew them and they knew him, and he could use that.

The girl was left yawning on the ground, and her eyes seemed to search where exactly he went. While she was doing that, he studied her and her movements, trying to find a weak spot. There was a limp in her walk, clearly. Maybe she’d injured her knee while they were at it because she hadn’t had that a moment ago?

Well, he had not been trained to fight fairly, he’d been trained to fight to win. He could also use her injury to his advantage.

So that was what he did.

As soon as he moved though, there appeared a slight smirk on her face and she turned to look at him, her eyes locking with his even though she wasn’t supposed to be able to see him. It was disturbing. After all, he had tried to hide from her.

Regardless, he dropped down from the tree right at her, almost managing to pin her under him. The problem was, she threw him off of her, and that was lost.

That continued for a while. He attacked, she dodged. Every single time. She didn’t even try to attack him, which on its own was insulting as well. Did she think he was too young to be attacked? That he couldn’t handle it? He was eleven already. He wasn’t that young anymore. Surely Grandfather and Mother had known how well trained this girl was and decided that Damian was the best suited to take her down.

Aside from dodging and the occasional remark (“Is that the best you got?”, “In order to kill me, you must first be able to actually get the sword to touch me, but nice try”, “Rule number one of assassinating: don’t let the target find you, and especially don’t let them start a game — chances are, they’re better than you and you haven’t got even a chance at winning”, “It’s okay, don’t worry about not succeeding, worry about why I’m winning”, “Actually, you know what, if you’re indeed Ra’s’, maybe you should worry about not succeeding”), the girl did nothing. It was infuriating, and at this point, Damian wanted to slap her before actually killing her.

It took him until the latest remark to actually snap, though.

“Please tell me Ra’s didn’t think he was sending his best because this? This is not the best,” she sighed at some point and shook her head, jumping to the side, away from his blade.

“Silence yourself!” he snapped, clutching at the handle of his sword desperately. His voice wavered a little. “I am one of the best Grandfather has! Mother made sure of it!”

That had the girl stop. She threw her yoyo at his sword and snatched it from him before throwing it away and placing her yoyo back at her hip where it seemed to belong. Then she approached him cautiously, her hands open in front of her so he could see she had no weapon in her hands. When she got close enough, she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked at him with a serious expression, brows furrowed and mouth a thin line.

“Your grandfather? You are the perfect vessel and weapon Ra’s mentioned in passing? You must still be like, ten.”

“I’m eleven!”

“You just proved my point, kid, and that doesn’t make it any better. Okay, yeah, the game’s off, I’m coming with you to the league. Nope, you don’t have a say in that.”

“You’re what?”

“Coming with you to the league. You’re too young for this, and I’m gonna make sure nothing happens to you for failing to kill me. It’s not like you’re gonna succeed anyway, and neither is your grandfather — or mother — if I have any say in it. They’re not the only people in this world with training too excellent. Especially not when one’s been trained by a lot of people, including someone from the league. Besides, if I willingly come there with a changed mind, I doubt Ra’s would kill me until he found out why. So. Let’s go.”

Still, not completely sure about what was happening, Damian let himself be dragged along towards his transportation, and he couldn’t understand how she knew where it was until she showed the little tracker she’d taken from his pocket. This day was proving out to be the most embarrassing and humiliating he had ever had the dishonour to face.

When they got back to where Mother and Grandfather were waiting for him, even they couldn’t hide their surprise at the girl that had forced herself to come along, completely unharmed (had she faked the limp earlier?), smiling. Damian was sure the smile wasn’t happy or gentle though — he’d seen it before so many times, and it reminded him more of Mother’s smiles when she saw someone she loathed or someone she was furious at. It was sharp and dripping with something that could only be called wrath and superiority. Like she somehow had power over Mother and Grandfather.

Judging by how Mother sighed and told Grandfather she was leaving him to deal with this, and how Grandfather just told her that yes, sure, she can stay if she does what the league tells her to do like his offer months ago had been, there was a chance she actually did have power over them. Some, at the very least.

It was confusing.

Years later, the girl — he’d eventually taken to mostly calling her by Ladybug or Akhtaa (my sister) — who had proclaimed herself Damian’s big sister but said that if Ra’s somehow got the idea of making her an heiress or something because she was older, she was going to ruin any and all plans Ra’s had, and then gift that right straight back to Damian as long as it didn’t bring him any harm, and who had become one of the best assassins the league had ever had, told him to stay quiet as she took him to a plane she’d insisted on learning how to fly a year back. He could now see why she had wanted to learn. It was smart of her not to try anything until now. At some point, she stopped, took out a paper and a pen from her pocket, scribbled something on it and slammed it on the wall closest to her. It seemed to be a post-it note as it stuck.

When he questioned her actions, she replied with “They’re abusing you, and you’re still a child, which also means, you still have a chance at a better life and I’m going to make sure you get it before they fucking destroy any chance at the life you might’ve been able to get” before the plane took off.

They ended up in Paris, of all places. If Ladybug was planning on having them hide somewhere, the capital city of France wasn’t probably the best of places. At least she’d left the plane in another country.

The bakery, instead, might have been. It was small, even if popular judging by the number of people waiting in line, but Ladybug — maybe Akhtaa when they were near civilians who certainly didn’t know of her other life — just cut in line (apologising, of course, she was always so very polite to most people despite usually also being superior to them on all fronts), and told them she needed to see the bakers, and no, she was not going to buy anything, she’s not cutting in line that way. It was unlikely Grandfather or Mother would look into a bakery, of all places.

“Maman! I’m back,” she yelled when she got inside, dragged Damian to what looked like a living room and seated him on the sofa. In full assassin regalia. Accompanied by what was at least three different weapons, few kinds of knives and daggers and a sword. How was she going to explain this to anyone, let alone her… mother?

A woman came in, wiping her hands on her trousers. She did indeed look like Ladybug did — and yeah, he should maybe learn to call her Marinette now, shouldn’t he? Unless she was still content with him calling her Akhtaa because that was more comfortable to him —, just older. She also looked way too much like the infamous Nocturne in the league. She couldn’t, right— “Ah, it’s good to see you, baby. My, you’ve grown. Ra’s didn’t treat you badly, now did he? I don’t need to go kick his ass?” the short woman with a pixie cut asked Marinette, pulling her into a hug. Marinette hugged her back and smiled before untangling herself from the embrace and leading her to Damian.

“Maman, this is Damian. I saved him and he’s now my little brother, which, actually, I should probably inform Papa of. Also, I’m not sure he actually listened to me when I taught him how to bake, so that might be in order.”

The woman looked at him up and down, as though she were sizing him up, and didn’t being looked at like that feel just a bit too familiar? At least now he knew where Marinette — no, she’d called him her little brother in front of her mother, Akhtaa was probably still alright — had gotten her ability to do so from.

“You look a lot like Talia. And maybe a bit like— Baby, please tell me this isn’t who I think it is.”

“It’s exactly who you think it is, Maman. Talia’s only son, Ra’s heir and the perfect vessel, but also the son of the Detective Ra’s originally was so obsessed with years ago. I would’ve taken him to his Father but that’s no less safe than staying with the league since he’s an emotionally constipated idiot who fights crime dressed as a Bat instead of getting therapy and would have taken him along, so I took him here. I thought we could keep him until I trust he’s either old enough to actually say no to his father if the need be or at least old enough for the fighting part not to be that bad. It’s not like I could’ve left him now. Oh, and you remember how I left for the league for a few years?”

“Yes, how could I forget?”

“Well, it’s because this kid was only eleven at the time, was told to assassinate me, failed, and you know how Ra’s would have taken that. So.”

A beat. Then a groan, which then turned into a growl.

“I am going to kill Ra’s.”

The exchange between Akhtaa and her mother was, the least to say, strange. They were talking about the league like both knew it like the backs of their hands, and there was a chance they did.

The woman Akhtaa called her mother was the Nocturne, wasn’t she.

It would explain why Akhtaa had said she’d been trained by a League soldier years and years ago. Why she knew exactly how he would move. Why she knew how to handle Grandfather and Mother because there was only a handful of League soldiers who could leave the League and stay alive — she must have learnt it from Nocturne.

Nocturne turned her eyes to Damian and smiled. It was sharp, but not in the same way as Akhtaa’s had been when she’d smiled at his Mother and Grandfather a long time ago. This smile was also soft, like she wanted to make sure Damian knew he was safe here with them.

“Hello, Damian. I’m Sabine, Marinette’s mother, though you might know me better as Nocturne since you’re from the League. And, as she claims you to be her new little brother, I suppose I’m your new mother as well. You can call me Sabine or any version of ‘mother’, whichever you prefer. House rules are as stands: No smoking, no drugs, no underage drinking, no weapons at the dinner table, at least one meal with the family a day is a must unless the rest of the family has been informed of absence at least three hours before, and absolutely no killing within the city bounds. Also, no scaring away the customers.”

Damian just found himself nodding as Sabine continued speaking.

“Marinette can show you to your new room. If you need anything, just tell me or Marinette. Dinner is at 8 pm sharp. Being late is not an option today. You can choose between getting homeschooled and an actual school, but we’ll discuss that later. Have fun, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

And that was how Damian found himself inserted into the Dupain-Cheng family. How he’d gotten here from trying to kill their only daughter, he wasn’t too sure, but honestly? He wasn’t complaining.

Five years later, Akhtaa took him to Gotham and introduced him to his Father and adopted siblings (which, how in the world had Father adopted so many kids? There was at least Cassandra and Jason whom he’d met at some point in the league, Richard, the first of his children and on par with Akhtaa when it came to hugging people, Timothy, the second youngest of the children, and Duke, who was only a few years older than Damian.) They were confused but welcomed him after they’d confirmed he was indeed Father’s blood son, and Damian was relieved about it. He’d come to appreciate found family with the Dupain-Chengs and Akhtaa over the years, so it wasn’t too hard to adapt into this family either — though that was probably because Akhtaa and he had insisted on having her as a family as well. After all, she was more of a big sibling to him than any of the others together.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how meeting them would have gone if Mother and Grandfather were the ones to send him to his Father, especially if that had happened when he was still younger.

Good thing he didn’t need to know.

He would never need to know.

____________________

Basically, Marinette is hurt and offended because the only one who has made a proper attempt on her life is a child, and Damian is confused and offended that his target is sassing him for missing. You were supposed to get someone actually, physically hurt and instead you're getting this. Be happy.

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

[handthigh]

Soooo I may or may not have gone crazy and gone stupid and wrote a whole ass one shot fanfic of Tianshan in the office AU

ETA: this is now also available at AO3! (ETA 2: This is now a multichapter fic!)

Big thanks to the people over at Tianshan discord for taking a read and giving me the feedback. The fic follows right after this paragraph, with notes at the end of the fic.

He Tian (Work):

Little Mo, pass me a stapler (6:35pm)

Frowning at the message notification, Mo Guan Shan wordlessly takes the stapler lying on his desk and wheels his chair out of his cubicle to pass to his next door neighbour who grins upon receiving the stationery from the redhead. The reciprocity is not returned however, as Guan Shan wheels back into his cubicle to complete a report the supervisor had dumped onto him 15 minutes before the time he ends work. It is already bad enough that he is working overtime on a Friday while being the only one stuck with He Tian, the last thing he needs is for the annoying colleague to interrupt his progress.

The report turns out even more taxing than expected, further souring Guan Shan’s mood. He glanced at the time displayed on the laptop, “6:55pm”. Great, the report’s barely done and closing time sale at the nearby sandwich shop is already over. So much for a “quick task”, he scoffs bitterly at his supervisor’s words.

As if He Tian can read his mind, comes another text:

He Tian (Work):

Little Mo, are you cursing out the boss in your head again? (6:57pm)

Damn it, not another interruption. Glancing at the new message, Guan Shan cringes at the accuracy of the guess. Guilt quickly turns into irritation however, as he glares at the cubicle separating him and the culprit of these messages. This has been going on for about 3 months now, ever since he was assigned to be seated with He Tian at the corner of the office. The reason? The supervisor claims that only the short tempered Guan Shan is immune to the raven haired’s hunky looks while workers of all genders in their department are too busy admiring He Tian to work productively. Guan Shan tries to suppress his gag upon the memory.

First of all, Guan Shan does not appreciate being called short tempered. He just has little patience and a lot of irritation for mindless small talks and forced formalities, that’s all. Second of all, seriously? Of all words, hunky? While Guan Shan admits that He Tian is a looker because after all, he has eyes; but that is certainly an exaggeration. Sure, He Tian has the physique and face for the magazine covers, but he’s not that good looking. Especially not when he assigns Guan Shan that stupid nickname and constantly texts him for no justifiable reasons despite already repeating many times that he only wants to reserve the texting to a minimum and keep it strictly to work matters.

Wait, what the fuck? Why is he thinking about him again? Ugh, this is why he emphasises on keeping social interactions to a minimum! The report and the constant texting must have really gotten to him, because the next thing he knew, Guan Shan picks up his phone and types at his source of annoyance.

Me:

Yes, genius. Since you’re so smart and volunteered to OT with me, why don’t you make yourself useful and help me out with the report then you chicken dick! (7:05pm)

Normally Guan Shan tries to keep his temper in check, wanting to believe he is no longer the moody middle school boy that he was. Besides, this is the first job he managed to get right after graduating university 6 months ago, just in time before the recession. Thus, he is not trying to screw up an opportunity just because he got involved in some petty office drama. However, the combination of working overtime, growing hunger and unnecessary buzzing of his phone followed by He Tian’s unnecessary messages is making Guan Shan throw both caution and formalities out the window. 

He is not the only one surprised by his own outburst however, as He Tian guffaws and rolls his chair out of the cubicle to meet the redhead, currently glaring at him and asking what’s so funny.

“Chicken dick? What kind of insult is that? Also, I dunno, I just thought you’d never asked me for help.” He Tian replies with a shrug and his signature grin.

He Tian is not wrong - Guan Shan seldom asks for help, believing that it’s better to be self-sufficient than to rely on someone else. Furthermore, it allows him to avoid having to keep up with forced interactions with others. But it’s getting late and the report doesn’t seem to be finishing soon, and there is someone in the office right now, might as well right?

“So are you going to help me or not?”

“Sure, anything for you Little Mo~”

“Stop calling me that! Give me your email, I’ll share the document with you on the cloud.”

So, here they are at 7:30pm, working in a shared online document together - cubicle to cubicle. Guan Shan mainly typing out the content of the report while He Tian formats, elaborates and adds any figures and charts where appropriate; explaining his rationale to the other while he works.

As Guan Shan sees the report transform before his very own eyes, he is now confronted with the thought he’s been trying to will away for 3 days, ever since he overheard the company executives discuss whether to promote He Tian. 

As much as he hates admitting it, He Tian is talented and hardworking when situations call for it. Not only is he able to easily handle the tedious formatting that is typically required of such reports, he also goes the extra mile of further perfecting any tasks assigned to him. It also helps that he has great social networking skills to accompany his equally great looks, not only charming the other coworkers around them, but also clients and other company staff alike in network events. 

Attempting to ignore the ache of admiration growing in his chest, Guan Shan wonders why is someone as good as He Tian working at an entry level job like him in a medium sized company when the latter can easily negotiate for a much higher salary in a conglomerate. What he heard about his raven haired coworker isn’t helping much with his curiosity either.

While Guan Shan prefers minding his own business, he also doesn’t live under a rock. He has heard the rumours - that He Tian had interned for various big names while he attended an Ivy League business school and graduated a valedictorian. He was also rumoured to be taking over his family’s multinational company branch in China while his older brother gets based overseas to look over their international branches. Yet somehow, here he is, working overtime in a too small cubicle with an aloof coworker who has nothing to boast for. After all, Guan Shan’s resume mainly consists of mediocre grades in a local university that is far from being a C9 League, one proper internship experience and multiple part time odd jobs to help him pay his student loans. 

He Tian has everything going for him, and yet, why? Guan Shan is so lost in his own thoughts that he does not notice an arm reaching out to his laptop and folding it down, clasping his fingers that are resting motionlessly on the keyboard.

“Ouch! What the fuck?!” Guan Shan stands up and yelps in shock, spinning around to glare at the culprit. This proves to be a mistake as he realises he is face to face with He Tian, barely an inch away. 

Suddenly, the room feels hot and all Guan Shan can hear is his heart rapidly beating in his ears as he sees a totally different expression from the latter: lips twitching up, high cheekbones raised making them even more pronounced, coupled with a pair of grey eyes sparkling and curving in childish amusement. Even though he knows that He Tian is laughing at his expense, somehow, Guan Shan could not bring himself to break eye contact, wanting to look as long as possible until he commits He Tian’s genuine smile to memory.

“Earth to Little Mo, I said I was done with the report and had emailed our supervisor, and was thinking of treating you to a sandwich as a thanks for your effort.” He Tian replies, amusement laced in his voice as he breaks the silence.

“...How do you know I like…” Guan Shan dumbly replies, still feeling overwhelmed by the close contact to even retort He Tian as he feels his face getting even hotter.

Breaking eye contact, He Tian steps to the side and fishes out his car key, hooking the key ring to his finger. As much as he finds his flustered colleague both amusing and endearing, he makes sure to give Guan Shan some space in case the other gets too stunned and passes out. “Well, who else in this office eats those except for you? So what do you say, it'll be my treat and I can drive us there.” He Tian says as he leans back on the cubicle wall, spinning the car key around.

“.... Uh… mm” Guan Shan nodded, feeling too light headed to speak properly.

“Let’s go then.” He Tian steps out of the cubicle, making his way out as he turns off the office lights.

Guan Shan’s mind is reeling as he follows He Tian from behind. Why is he suddenly reacting like this? Why did he agree to have dinner with him? Most importantly, WHY IS HE SUDDENLY HAVING SUCH THOUGHTS OF THAT ANNOYING CHICKEN DICK?

God, he hates working overtime.

Notes:

If you made it here, thanks for reading! I’ve been wanting to write a fluffier, slice of life office romance with Tianshan for quite awhile now - an AU with no mafia drama, no She Li being a creep, just coworkers dicking around and relatively normal problems here and there. I only committed after getting reminded of this official Tianshan art by Old Xian on the discord. Aside from 19 days, I also draw inspiration from a webcomic called Senpai ga Uzai, Kouhai no Hanashi. I’m a huge sucker of slow burn fluffy Tianshan where Guan Shan is initially annoyed at He Tian and slowly and reluctantly falls for him. Hehehehehehehehe *continues to laugh in fujoshi*

Not going to lie, I do feel nervous posting it. However, after seeing many Tianshan fics (they are good! don’t get me wrong) that doesn’t have a workplace AU, I thought I’d manifest it onto the internet space! Do let me know what you think, as I am considering expanding this into a multi-fic once I stop being lazy. 

[hopeandtruth]

Blind Date Event

WHO: Hope Clarington and Seth Evans (@xsethappeal) WHAT: Blind Date WHEN: Friday Evening, July 16th, 2021 WHERE: Breadstix TRIGGERS: Alcohol consumption, allusions of past abuse WORD COUNT: 2,965

Hope had no idea why she was here. Mainly for an eventual laugh, she supposed. Lima hosting a singles night was basically a way to get all the millennials and some Gen Z into Breadstix so they could have a really good night of profits, there was no two ways about it, yet, here she was.

Hope hadn't even been on a single date since she got to Lima, hadn't even hooked up. The last time she even looked at another person would have been in Italy or Paris or something, and she couldn't even remember it. All the world travelling, even with the writing and as much as she'd talked about it, there were large chunks missing from her memory because she hadn't wanted to think about anything. So, here she was, on a stupid blind date at Breadstix, pretty sure she was going to regret the whole thing tomorrow.

Approaching her table she could already see the man who was going to be sharing her time with her and she considered just ... leaving before he saw her too. That would ruin the fun though, so she sat and smiled. "Surprised you took the time off for a date, but I guess it could have been worse."

The fact that Anna had somehow convinced him to do this was… ridiculous. He didn’t date, not since they broke up. He wasn’t into monogamy or really relationships, so going to this on a Friday when he could make way better tips at work was clearly due to his inability to say no to Anna.

Seth was always early for things, including things he didn’t really want to do. He’d already ordered a drink, though it was rather weak compared to the ones he made. He sipped it and sighed as he waited.

When he locked eyes as Hope fucking Clarington started to walk towards him, he groaned, but put on a charming smile, playing the part once she got to the table. “Unless tonight goes incredibly well, I can still probably be at work by 10.” He chuckled, “I’m shocked to see you here at all. A Clarington slumming it with the rest of us.

Hope huffed a laugh of sorts at the cheap shot, a the only kind Seth Evans would be able to afford anyway. "You're almost cute," she replied, still smiling, not yet giving him a signature sneer, "has anyone ever told you that?"

Hope quickly ordered a bottle of wine, not intending to share but she didn't protest when the wait staff brought two glasses. "So," she said, pouring herself a glass, a little fuller than it needed to be, "why are you here?"

“I’ve been called cute with assurance, both drunk and sober, I don’t hear almost very often.” He winked, taking a sip of his water.

He ordered himself some Johnnie Walker on the rocks, leaning back. “Because my best friend wanted to come and I’m here for moral support. I don’t date.” As he got his drink, he took a sip. “Why are you here?”

Hope was thankful when he didn't touch the wine, not that she wouldn't have just eventually ordered more, but it felt more like a game of dominance right now and neither was giving in. It was almost fun, at least for the time being.

She shrugged at his question, not really having much more of an answer than he did, almost made her wonder if the people who did the pairing did this intentionally. "Figured why not. I'm told I don't do enough 'normal' things, so why not try it out before I inevitably regret it tomorrow."

“So you choose to come to a mediocre restaurant, with mediocre food, mediocre people, minus a handful that I’m close with, and drink mediocre wine?” He quirked an eyebrow, taking another sip of his drink, before waving to the bartender to order himself another.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m well above mediocre and have exceeded your expectations for ‘normalcy’, Ms Clarington. I’m not really capable of being ordinary or boring.”

Hope feigned interest as he spoke, but the more he went on about mediocrity, the harder it was to do. The confidence was interesting though, it seemed pretty real. For how big a lot of the people around Lima acted, there were few that could actually walk the walk after talking the talk, and deep down, Hope was one who could struggle with it lately, she was just a hell of a lot better at pretending than most of the world. Fake it til you make it was essential when someone had been through what she'd survived.

"Technically, I have to be the judge of that, Mr. Evans," she told him back smartly. "You never know when people will lie to you for a simple lay."

“In the 15 years I’ve been getting laid, never once have I lied to get into someone’s bed.” He finished his drink just as the second one arrived. “People who have to lie to get laid aren’t even worth the time. I like genuine people, real people. Not the kind who would tell you want you want to hear so you take off your pants, or will do whatever they’re expecting.”

He leaned back, looking her over - she may be a bitch, but even he had to admit she was hot. He wouldn’t tell her that though. “If people don’t like genuine me, that’s on them. Not me.”

The confidence was real and it was growing more intimidating by the minute, and Hope had no idea how to deal with it. This was someone who came from nothing, realistically had nothing, no doubt less than 2 paycheques from homelessness much like the rest of the world, and he didn't seem to care. It didn't make a lot of sense.

The genuine him, huh? Hope wasn't even sure she knew the genuine her, let alone liked her all that much, so there was no way she was going to let other people try and get there.

"I'm sure all those nights in the backroom at Scandals have been incredibly genuine, I think that's absolutely wonderful."

“I don’t hook up in the back room all that often. I’m usually working, and I don’t do anything that unprofessional while I’m working. I may “just” be a bartender at a small town gay bar, but I take my job seriously because I love it. So, yeah, on nights off I sometimes have fun, but I’m much more into sex outside of my place of work.”

He crossed one leg over the other, “and I remember the name and face of every person I hook up with. Even if I never see them again, I remember them.”

Hope wanted so badly to be bored, but, much to her dismay, Seth was almost interesting. He held himself highly, without having the ego that most of the company she usually kept. She wasn’t sure if she believed he knew the name and face of all his conquests, but she had no room to dispute it, so she didn’t.

“You might remember them,” she shot with a small grin, leaning back, “but I guess the real question is if they remember you.”

Seth chuckled into his drink, taking another sip. His blue-green eyes looking at her. “I have a good memory for things. Some people don’t. We have fun in the moment and that’s honestly the most important part. One night hook ups are meant for that. Just fun. It’s not a relationship.”

He shrugged, ordering himself some spinach dip. “My goal is to make people feel good for a night. Or whatever time of day we’re having fun. That’s all I care about.”

Seth's stare was a little unnerving. Sure, people usually looked, or even stared, but not like this. They were only a few feet apart and she didn't have much to hide behind, except her words, which didn't have too much of an effect on him.

Hope took a long sip of her wine, she didn't have a response and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Well, everyone has a talent, I suppose," she told him finally.

Seth wasn’t used to being around people who didn’t have a comeback for him. Anyone at scandals always did, so seeing Hope, this woman who seemed to be stoic and reserved, yet also had the reputation of the opposite, was a change of pace.

“I have plenty of talents, but I doubt you’re interested enough to hear about them.”

He was baiting her, that much she was sure of. It was pretty damn close to infuriating. Hope wasn’t used to not having the upper hand and she certainly didn’t like it.

“You can try me,” Hope retorted, raising a brow. “But if I start to doze off, that’s on you.”

“Some of them are more of a show than tell, but I can’t do some of those things in public, unless I crawl under the table.” He winked, smirking, “but I’m 6’1, so I don’t really fit.”

He took another sip of his drink. “I play guitar and sing, I mix the best drinks in town. I’m good at sports, and was probably second or third in my class in high school. I also know a lot about cars.”

Hope did her best not to react at how sure he sounded. He knew he had the upper hand here and it showed. It got a little easier when the chat was less suggestive, thank fuck.

“You almost had me interested there,” she confessed, looking at him through her eyelashes, the exact way she knew worked. “Last I checked I didn’t care about cars, I’m smart too, I know how to mix my own drink with my own liquor, and musics just music.”

Seth rolled his eyes, “bully for you.” He ordered himself another drink, looking across the table at her. “So, what do you find interesting, Ms Ivy League Trust fund?”

That shouldn't have been a hard question, and it wasn't for most. But ever since she'd left New York, Hope wasn't really someone who did a lot of of interest rather than need. She needed to get the hell out of there and she needed her family to never know what kind of condition she left in. "Travelling," was her instant answer, "I did a lot of it for a couple years after I left New York. I wrote for a lot of magazines, making sure I always had somewhere else to go."

Hope found him interesting, but there was no way in Hell she was going to tell him that.

Seth smiled, “we do have something in common.” He leaned a bit closer, “I like to travel too. I did a big road trip across the country a few years back. I really want to go to India at some point too. I have a long bucket list of places I want to go before I die.”

Hope knew that she had to take back the control somehow, so she reached for her purse and threw a couple bills on the table, knowing it way more than covered the bill and she stood. She started towards the door before quickly turning around, "you are coming, right?" she asked, as innocently as possible, but anyone would know it was anything but.

He had to admit that this response caught him off-guard. Being paired with Hope had not led him to even consider the possibility of them going home together, and yet, clearly, that was where her mind had gone. He also had never had a woman cover his bill before. He shrugged and stood up, “taking me back to your coven for a sacrifice? I’ll have you know I’m not a virgin.” He smirked.

"I guess you'll have to wait and see," Hope told him as they left the restaurant. "I Uber'd here, busted car and all, so unless you drove, will that work for you?" Hope didn't really want to get into a car with someone she didn't know very well, so if need be, she'd just meet him at her place.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “of course I drove. It’s a pick up truck though, you sure you’re okay with that?” He cocked a brow, eyes washing over her. “I promise you I’m not secretly the modern day Ted Bundy.”

"Absolutely not," Hope told him immediately. "So, you have one of two choices, leave it here for ... who knows how long, I haven't decided, or, take it home and I can pay for an Uber, it's up to you." Hope was sure nothing would go wrong, but, there also was no way in Hell she was stepping foot in his pick-up truck.

He rolled his eyes, “the princess doesn’t like trucks. Shocker.” He sighed, “I guess I can leave her here. I’ll come back whenever and pick her up.” He had a relatively new truck, it was clean, nice. 2017. But he wasn’t exactly shocked she was so against it. “Guess I’m getting in an Uber with a woman who could be a black widow for all I know.”

"You had a choice, you know," Hope replied, doing her best not to sound too annoyed at his annoyance. "I said you could do whatever and you're choosing to ride with me anyway, and it's not too harder to figure out why," she continued giving him a once over.

Pulling out her phone, she ordered and Uber and was given a quick estimate, perks of so many people being preoccupied right now.

“Ride in the Uber with another person, or do it alone and risk being murdered. At least in pairs we’re less likely to be a target.” He shrugged, thinking his logic was pretty sound. “Im used to driving myself, I don’t think I’ve ever used Uber in my life…”

"You're acting like you're in a big city and using the Subway for the first time, don't be such a baby, it's making you far less appealing," Hope sighed, still looking at her phone. The less she gave him, the more power she had, at least in her opinion. They were using her mode of transport, going to her apartment, and she'd paid. Everything was in her favour.

“No, I’m acting like someone who watches a lot of serial killer documentaries with his best friend.” He sighed, leaning against a nearby wall. “Im also almost never a passenger in a car.”

"Well that sounds like you're just setting yourself up for paranoia," Hope shrugged taking a step towards him, looking up at him. "I figure you can get over this little ... issue for one night, right?"

Seth always loved a good height difference, and considering he was 6’2, they were rather common for him. He smiled down at her, “it’s not an issue, but yes, I can get over it for one night, Princess.”

Hope smirked up and bit her lip, staring a moment too long, before sharply turning away to greet the Uber driver that had just arrived. Confirming he was who he was supposed to be, Hope got in without hesitation and waited for Seth expectantly.

In all his life, Seth had never taken a cab or an Uber. In a town like Lima he never needed to, and when he travelled, he’d done it by car. He took a moment before getting in, shooting Anna a text just so someone knew where he was going. The Uber was cleaner than he expected… even had a new car smell.

“Texting your girlfriend?” Hope asked, as Seth sat down and they started on the drive to her place. “Because frankly that doesn’t really matter to me, but if you’re having second thoughts, I’m sure he can let you out if need be.”

Hope knew it wasn’t the case, but Seth was honestly just making it all too easy.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, thank you very much.” He rolled his eyes, “just letting a friend know where I’m going.”

Hope sighed dramatically, enjoying the game of it all now. “Well I guess I really will have to let you leave mostly unharmed then, such a shame.”

“Oh, darlin’, as long as I make it home in one piece,” he leaned in a bit, “hit me with your best shot.”

"I'll keep that in mind," Hope smirked, letting him stay close but being very careful to keep her hands to herself, at least for the new few minutes. Sure, she hadn't entirely expected this when she'd seen who her date was, or even, at all. Hope knew there very much still could be regrets tomorrow, but right now this was good and fun and who was she to push that away when she'd spent the last few nights with nothing similar.

Seth wasn’t one to say no very often. The fact that he’d taken a Friday off from work to do this date thing for Anna was not something he would usually do, but he couldn’t say no to her especially. Plus, even if Hope was a huge bitch, she was hot as fuck, and he was clearly in for a wild night

It wasn't long before the Uber stopped at Hope's apartment. Politely, she thanked the driver and led Sam into the building, past the doorman, and to the elevator. "You're not scared of heights or anything, are you?" She asked, teasing in tone, pressing the button to the 11th, and highest, floor.

Seth rolled his eyes, “no, I’m not scared of heights. I went bungee jumping a few years ago.” He shook his head. It was going to be an interesting night, that’s for sure.

[passionate-reply]

PET SHOP BOYS & PHIL OAKEY - “THIS USED TO BE THE FUTURE”

I love science fiction. It’s interesting to me how the notion of “science fiction” clearly exists across many different art media, and takes on a different connotation given the medium. The origins of science fiction lie with popular magazines and newspapers--in the 19th Century, serialized stories, later compiled into “novels,” and in the 20th Century, in so-called “pulp” magazines, named after the cheap and low-grade paper they were printed on. In the 50′s, science fiction became a popular medium for film, although it resided in a sort of artistic ghetto as it became associated with the schlocky “B-movie” format. SF kind of often gets a bad rap as lower tier of entertainment, it seems, although that does seem to be changing somewhat. Music is no stranger to engaging with science fictional topics, as well, although we’ve never had a cultural thread that doomed such music to the B-sides of records.

“This Used to Be the Future” is nothing short of a rumination on the worst ideas of the worst kinds of science fiction. I am sure that even though you may have never held a pulp magazine in your hands, you can imagine the silly worlds it conjured up, with their jetpacks, food pills, and flying cars. As someone who’s studied it in a bit more detail, I would be fully willing to argue that these sorts of ideas were never really taken seriously, and this entire sub-culture was usually aimed at little more than the brief amusement of children. And, on occasion, lascivious teenagers, leering at the busty alien heroes of such fare in spite of their green complexions. Consider that one of the greatest writers of such fiction, Isaac Asimov, became exposed to it as a child because his parents owned a candy store, which sold SF pulp right alongside the sweets. Empty of nutrition and long-term worth, but shiny and desirable, such indulgences beckoned to the brief attention of children, and parents acquiesced to them on occasion, taking relief at the fact that both of them were priced in cents. And to little more did such works generally aspire. Consumers of such tales didn’t necessarily believe their future would look that way, any more so than modern people literally believe the future will look like Black Mirror or anything of that nature just because they enjoy the diversion it creates.

Tennant, Lowe, and Oakey make a risible case in this track, apparently arguing that the problems of today are somehow related to the...excess optimism of pulp SF from the 50′s? Lord knows there was plenty of pessimism to go around, including in the world of science fiction, in literature of the Mid-Century. I mean, their countryman, George Orwell, penned 1984 in 1948, and it’s difficult to achieve more pessimism than that. I think their thesis is kind of interesting, but also so flawed that I have a hard time taking it seriously. But it is a cracking track. I adore the way those very harsh and metallic-sounding synths arrive right alongside Oakey’s voice part--they are very reminiscent of the earliest work he did as part of the Human League, before going fully pop and hitting it big with Dare! And that stupendous closing with his darkly meant “amen” gives me a chill. Musically speaking, it is every bit what we me expect from a collaboration between such illustrious artists.

Anyway, the real occasion for me to write about this particular track, today, is of course the fact that the Pet Shop Boys just released their latest album, Hotspot, this past week, and I’ve had some time to have a good, long couple of listens, and finalize my opinion on it. Here it is: Mediocre. About as mediocre as just about everything they have done this past decade, since the release of Yes in 2010. (”This Used to Be the Future” isn’t on the album, but was included with bonus editions of it, so it’s Yes-era, for our purposes.) They seem to descend further and further into “dull, soulless dance music” with every release, pushing fewer buttons and fewer boundaries. 

I love the Pet Shop Boys, and have since my age was in the single digits. They’re basically the first band I ever got very deeply “into,” and I would quickly and happily credit them with a lot of my love for music and my interest in sharing it and talking about it. But they should go their separate ways, in my opinion. It is nice to see that they are such good friends, evidently, but two people who know each other so well, finish each other’s sentences, and don’t seem to be challenging each other aren’t benefiting from this continuing artistic relationship. In their earlier work I think there is a kind of constant tension, a tug of war between Tennant’s “Che Guevara and Debussy,” and Lowe’s “disco beat.” In that tension lies art. But their recent projects tend to have a lot of one or the other, and it really isn’t the music I fell in love with anymore. 

That might be a bit of a controversial opinion, but it’s how I really feel. Perhaps they will at least consider more collaborations with other artists in the future, which might hopefully spark something new or create something more interesting. It’s certainly a lot of why I like “This Used to Be the Future” despite vehemently disagreeing with its message. And I also think that one of the few truly great things to come from them more recently is “Brick England,” their collaboration with the venerable electronic pioneer Jean-Michel Jarre. (That’s another piece for me to write about here, someday). What the “future” holds in store for them, we’ll have to wait and see.

[liamhaydn-blog]

The Argentina Problem & The need for Dictator Messi

Lionel Messi uses week old babies to do kickups with, he spits in the face of elderly women and burns money infront of the homeless. These are all headlines you won’t ever see, and that’s because they aren’t things that have ever or will ever happen, but he must  have done something.  

Something morally wrong, something really corruptible for otherwise there is no fair reason why a simple humble guy who has done nothing other than raise a family with his one true love and entertain us with breathtakingly consistent talent with a football should be forced to play in the Argentina national side.

On Saturday night Argentina began their Copa America campaign. The first step towards ending their 26 year wait for a major trophy. For Messi, it is his ninth major international tournament for the Argies, and his 5th Copa America.

It’s hard to recall a time Argentina had gone into a Copa America less fancied (it didn’t take long to see why). There was some fleeting hope among the more optimistic Messi/Argentina supporters that maybe these low expectations would work in the teams favour. After the huge pressure of going into the last two Copas expecting themselves to win, maybe the lack of expectation this time would allow them to play with less pressure and they could end up surprising a few people.

As it turned out, no one was surprised with Argentina on Saturday night. The only slight surprise maybe, is that somehow they’ve managed to get worse from the World Cup last summer. 

It was a match we’ve seen Argentina involved in time and time again over the last several years. The defence and midfield too poor with the ball to regularly involve the teams star attackers (not just Messi, the team also has Aguero and Di Maria who play for two of the best teams of the world, but you would be forgiven for forgetting as they’re rarely spotted for the Albiceleste), then the forwards when they do receive the ball usually only have one player ahead or level with them with no sign of the Argentine full backs being anywhere near the opposition final 3rd (atleast they make up for it with their defending right...Right!?..) 

Regarding Lionel Messi, apart from big players who have represented proper minnow nations (George Weah with Liberia for example) it is hard to imagine any player having to deal with more of a stark contrast between their current club side and international side. 

But this is not a minnow nation, this is  Argentina, one of the most formidable powerhouses in International Football. 14 time champions of South America and since they made the final of the inaugural World Cup in 1930, they’ve been back in the showpiece final 4 more times twice winning the greatest prize of them all.

And yet for the last few years the difference between Argentina and FC Barcelona has been the difference between night and day. That’s not to say it’s been all plain sailing at Barca, just one Champions League semi final appearance since they lifted the trophy in 2015 is underachieving by their standards, and the Roma and Liverpool defeats were unforgivable. 

Barca’s hysterical fanbase have been relentless in their insistence that their club is in a real crisis and whilst undoubtedly they are not without issues, in the real world they’ve won a major trophy in 10 out of the last 11 seasons and they’ve claimed the domestic crown (in the opinion of many including me the strongest league in the world) 5 out of the last 7 seasons. 

In 10 games Barca will win 8 of them, Messi will score 9 and assist another 4. Some crisis. It seems as though Messi sees more of the ball and is involved in more openings in the first 10 minutes of a Barcelona game at the Nou Camp than in 90 minutes of an Argentina game. 

Watching Messi in an Argentina match has a strange effect. Simultaneously the 90 minutes drags along, time crawls by whilst also feeling nowhere near long enough for Messi to impact the game. It feels like only by extending Argentina matches to 4 hours long could we hope to see Messi do half of what he does in a game for Barcelona, in an Argentina shirt. 

With just the standard 90 minutes, Messi is usually limited to one good piece of play per Argentina game (be it one good dribble, pass, shot etc.) and one half chance (usually a free kick from a long way out). 

Compared to the dramatic transformation of the European game, South American football feels like a throwback to the game of old, it doesn’t appear to have changed that much since the days of Diego Maradona. The pitches aren’t perfect, the games are very rough, physical, often even ugly. To highlight the difference in style and approach between Football’s two most successful continents, take this statistic: in 51 games at Euro 2016, there were 3 red cards. After 5 matches at this years Copa America, two red cards had already been shown.

Most South American teams seem to take a very conservative, defence first approach. The number of players teams put between the ball and their goal only serves to highlight further just how isolating it is playing as an attacking player in this Argentina team. They’re regularly attacking with just 3 or 4 bodies with 7 opposition players back defending their goal. Of course the only South American team bar the minnows who don’t have a solid defence in place is...Argentina. Nicolas Otamendi? How did this guy actually convince people he can defend? All over the show.

Though the problem has undoubtedly got worse in recent years, in this ‘Messi Era’  Argentina have often had issues scoring against South American opposition in competitive football. Messi’s combined Copa America and World Cup Qualifier record  is 29 goals in 67 games which is by no means a disgrace, but this is a player who at his scoring peak scored 91 goals in a calendar year, who has scored over 40 goals a season for 10(!) consecutive seasons.

Sergio Aguero has 16 Copa America + WCQ goals and Angel Di Maria just 9. In comparison, 22 of Chile International Eduardo Vargas’ 38 international goals have been scored at either the Copa America or in a WCQ.

These problems in finding the net will likely continue for the Argies against Paraguay and if not, the respite will only be a short one, resuming as soon as they face above mediocre opposition in the next stage. That is assuming they get that far, as failing to get the right results against Paraguay and Qatar would be their first group stage exit at the tournament since 1983 and would surely be one of the lowest moments in the history of Argentinian football.

So what can Argentina do about it? well there’s lot they could do about it, lots they could try, but what *will* they do about it? what are they willing to do about it? very little would be my guess. 

All hope of change from the fairly disastrous 2018 World Cup had been pinned on the introduction of Lo Celso into the side and how he would be able to link the midfield to the attack and establish a good partnership with Leo Messi. If Saturday night is anything to go by, this one player will not be enough to remotely come close to lifting Argentina’s fortunes. 

So it appears Argentina will insist on plodding on with the same tried and failed formula, perhaps doing enough to scrape past Paraguay and Qatar before succumbing against the next above mediocre team they face.

It is maddening how little Argentina seem to be willing to change, and whenever they do make a change it always seems like such a random throwaway selection of personnel, done without any real conviction or hope it will bring about improvement. 

For arguments sake here’s how I would look to address The Argentina Problem. First I would move Messi into Midfield. It’s maybe a bit bold to move a player into a position he’s never played before in the middle of a tournament and I can’t understand why its never been experimented with before in friendlies. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Messi is the best footballer Argentina have, the best footballer anyone has, there is zero benefit to having him play in a forward position at the moment where he is so isolated and seeing the ball so rarely. He is the best passer in the world, he will be able to keep the ball better than any of their other midfield options and can hit passes that few can see, but as well he is also a calm player with a cool head who can steady Argentina from the middle and allow them to keep the ball for a while, which at the moment they are completely unable to do.

This also gives Messi the opportunity to dribble from deep and have options infront of him, he will attract many opposition players when he has the ball which should free up more space for the attackers. It’s long been thought that Messi would flourish in centre midfield when his pace left him and though we’re not at that stage yet, with Messi’s passing range and football intelligence combined with his current ineffectiveness in the side I believe the time is now here to try Messi in centre midfield for these final 2 group games.

Ahead of Messi, I would make Dybala a starter in the side. At the moment he doesn’t ever even feature off the bench. Imagine that, a team struggling as much as this one for goals and for quality completely ignores a man who can give them both in abundance if his Juventus career is anything to go by. He’s 25 years old, not a kid and only has 1 goal for his national side due to opportunities being so stark. 

Unless they want another Carlos Tevez on their hands (a world class player whose international career was wasted, scoring just 13 goals over 11 years due to being in and out of the side)  Argentina must trust Dybala sooner rather than later and give him the opportunity to prove himself. It was ridiculous that at last years World Cup he was behind Higuaín in the pecking order and its ridiculous that he still now isn't getting a look-in.

Adding another top class attacker into this side would also give defences more to think about and give the current attackers so much needed support. There needs to be much more fluidity and movement in the Argentine attack, Di Maria is allowing games to pass him by whilst he stands out wide not doing anything. Dybala and Di Maria could switch positions during games, drifting all over.  

Argentina’s defence are appalling so the best way to combat that in the short term could be to just go top heavy, try to outscore teams and hope that by stacking their attack with the best players they have, teams are more wary and respectful of them. Because at the moment they are causing zero fear or worry for the opposition. 

Looking past this tournament, I would also ensure Mauro Icardi is included in every squad from now on, playing as much as possible. I get that he’s a dick and has a bad attitude which may prevent him from hitting the heights he could hit in football, but he’s a brilliant goalscorer. He only needs one chance, one touch. He scored 55 goals in 77 games in 2 seasons for Inter before souring his relationship with the fans. He has been awarded just 8 international caps. 8. He’s 26 years old and Argentina look set to waste having another top striker. And for what? what are they possibly gaining from completely freezing him out.

Looking to the 2022 World Cup, there is only one man who can make Argentina from also rans to serious contenders. Diego Cholo Simeone.

Simeone took control of Atletico in December 2011 days after the team had lost 3-0 at home to a 3rd division team in the cup. They were in 10th place. By May 2014 Atletico had won La Liga in doing so breaking the longest duopoly in Spanish Football since the last time they won it in 1996 when Cholo was a player for them. 

The same season they were literal seconds away from winning their first ever European Cup, this was all achieved with a starting 11 costing 35M pounds. In 8 full seasons at the club Simeone has won La Liga at the Nou Camp against Barca, The Copa Del Rey at the Bernabeu against Real, the Spanish Super Cup, 2 Europa Leagues and 2 Uefa Super Cups. He has made 2 Champions League Finals, and finished in the top 3 for 7 straight years. He has transitioned the club into a new era with a new modern stadium and he has done all of this whilst regularly losing big players and having to rebuild. Prior to taking the Atleti job he was also at the helm of Estudiantes de la Plata when they won their first Argentine league title for 23 years.

Basically, if anyone is going to fix Argentina, it’s going to be him. It has to be him. One day it inevitably will be. The proud Argentine who made 106 appearances for his country will undoubtedly one day fall to the temptation of managing his beloved nation at the FIFA World Cup.

And the way I see it, if you’re going to do it what better time to do it than at the 2022 World Cup where you’ll have a 29 year old Dybala, 30 year old Icardi and the greatest player of all time playing in his last ever World Cup. 

Messi has scored 67 goals in 131 caps for Argentina, better than 1 in 2 which is a solid return if not as mind-blowing as his 603 in 687 games for Barcelona (though given the context of the Argentina team he’s scored 67 in, who knows maybe it is) and though in recent times he’s seemingly grown tired and less able of carrying Argentina on his back, no one should deny that for many years that’s exactly what he did.

Argentina reached extra time of the World Cup Final and 2 Copa America finals in 3 years (Where they was only Higuaín not being shit away from glory. How they must long for them days now). Without Messi that wouldn’t have been possible. He dragged those average teams to touching distance of silverware, and that’s why I hope he is given the chance to play his final World Cup with a truly world class manager in charge.

Just give Messi a chance of winning the biggest prize of all, just a chance. Get Simeone in to coach the defence, get everyone running through brick walls for the shirt and for him and get Messi playing behind Dybala and Icardi, knowing that it’s a collective team effort now and all the responsibility is no longer his. 

It’s what the greatest player of all time deserves and for that reason I hope he picks up the phone soon and calls Simeone. And tells him personally how much he wants him to take the job for the World Cup. It’s hard to imagine that wouldn’t have an effect on Cholo, such a big legend of the game asking personally for you. Then after he’s had time to think on it, I would leak the call to the world, so huge pressure builds on him to accept and he can see the huge fanfare from Argentina fans for him.

Whether Messi the dictator is real or fake, he needs to come out now and take action to save his international career. 

[thecollegefootballguy]

Bizarro Football: An Alternative History of the ACC in 2015

So far, the ACC hasn’t changed a whole lot in Bizarro Football. Pittsburgh and Syracuse were good additions to the league in certain ways, but it’s not like either seriously contended for the conference title in 2013 or 2014. Louisville was generally better but also wasn’t in the running for the ACC championship deep into the season in 2014. Maryland remaining in the conference also hasn’t changed a whole lot. They were a mid-tier team for the most part and nothing here changes that.

So, what does this mean for 2015? More of the same.

Check out the earlier seasons first if you have no idea what’s going on here: 2013, 2014

ACC Atlantic Standings

Clemson 13-0 (8-0)* Florida State 11-1 (7-1) NC State 7-5 (3-5) Wake Forest 4-8 (2-6) Maryland 5-7 (2-6) Boston College 4-8 (1-7)

ACC Coastal Standings

North Carolina 9-4 (6-2)** Miami FL 8-4 (5-3) Virginia Tech 7-5 (5-3) Duke 7-5 (4-4) Virginia 3-9 (2-6) Georgia Tech 4-8 (2-6)

*ACC Champion **Division Champion

Clemson finally got over the hump in 2015. The Tigers beat Florida State in Death Valley to wrest control of the Atlantic away from the Seminoles. Clemson faced a few other big challenges, but bested all-comers to earn an undefeated regular season. In this universe, FSU doesn’t play Georgia Tech so they don’t lose in a weird upset to the hapless Yellow Jackets. As a result, the Noles are a very strong 11-1. In certain years they could’ve have made a case for the Playoff with their resume.

The rest of the Atlantic, as usual, was pretty atrocious. Exceptionally mediocre NC State was able to eke out a bowl bid by the virtue of beating the three cellar dwellers at the bottom of the division. After back to back 8-4 seasons, Boston College inverts their record as they collapse to 4-8 due to a horrible offense. Likewise, Maryland ended a two year bowl streak and fired Randy Edsall when it became clear the team wouldn’t crack 6-6. Wake was the worst team in the conference but somehow won two ACC games.

As usual, the Coastal was much more competitive. Two thirds of the division finished within two games of the championship game. North Carolina swept their division opponents, but the Tar Heels had the misfortune of drawing both Clemson and FSU from the Atlantic, dampening what would have been a very successful season. Al Golden’s last year at Coral Gables went about the same as it did in real life, though this time they would have played AT Clemson instead of hosting. I wonder if they would have lost even worse. The same was true for Virginia Tech in Frank Beamer’s last season. The Hokies legend managed to ensure a positive win-loss percentage but not much else unfortunately. Duke was ok.

Virginia was the worst team in the division and Mike London was unceremoniously dumped at the end of the season. Georgia Tech wasn’t terrible, but had a bizarre habit of losing even the most winnable games. The Coastal champions of the previous year became a laughingstock, and this time they didn’t even get a cool win over Florida State.

The ACC Championship Game paired up Clemson and North Carolina as it did in real life. It was the Tigers’ 3rd ever appearance and first since 2011. Carolina was playing in their first ever CG and acquitted themselves well. In a surprisingly close game, the Tar Heels only lost by a touchdown to Playoff shoo-in Clemson.

At 13-0, Clemson clearly is in the Playoff. 11-1 Florida State would be the obvious choice as the #2 ACC team. 9-4 North Carolina probably doesn’t have the chops to be a third entrant from the conference into the NY6 that year. As a whole, the ACC still wasn’t that great of a league in 2015. They had a legit Playoff-level squad, and two other very quality teams, easily top 20 level. But outside that it was the same old average (at best) conference.

[adventuresindakar]

Leaning into the village.

On the first day of 2017 two of the people I love most in the world had a baby boy.  He was a “surprise” an unplanned arrival, years after they had finished having kids.  2016 is was a rough year for the world, but it was a particularly difficult one for their extended family so the arrival of this beautiful, healthy, baby boy was a joyful and auspicious start to 2017.  I did what people do when they are thousands of miles away, i cooed over his sweet, slightly stunned, red faced newborn photo his proud parents posted to facebook and then I wrote a message on his mama’s wall:  Welcome to the world! 

Welcome to the world. 

Its a phrase we bandy about so cavalierly when babies are born, but this time it caught in my throat a bit. Its a big deal, the biggest deal there is, to welcome someone to life as a human being on this planet, and all that entails.  All the joy and pain and disappointment and challenge and delight and frustration and complexity and simple pleasure of life as a human on this planet.  And only slightly less of a big deal is to be a parent of one of those newly formed humans who is responsible for guiding them through the first 20 or so odd years of life on that planet, hoping somehow that you will keep them in basically one piece and teach them to be polite and to tie their shoes and pee in the toilet and also respect their fellow human beings and love unconditionally and eat a balanced diet and meet their potential and not write on the furniture. 

Parenting is impossible. 

I know that people who are not parents get really sick of people who are parents being all dramatic and precious about their job of raising sticky little people and how hard it is and how exhausting and yet so Worth. It.  Non-parents, I assume, want to take all of us parents by the shoulders and say “first of all, you are NOT the first people to ever be parents, humans all over the planet have been doing this literally since the dawn of human existence and, secondly, you CHOSE this path so stop whining about it and let me get back to my kid-free brunch and quiet reading time.”

I really don’t blame them for feeling that way.  Even I get sick of the constant blather about parenting - but what non-parents have to understand is that, for most of us, parenting is overwhelming and bewildering in ways that were totally unexpected, but due to the exhaustion and extreme distraction we don’t get much time to reflect on this notion and thus fall back on comparing eating habits and fretting about potty training and debating endlessly about the best way to get our kid to sleep better at night.  (parents are obsessed with sleep.  All of us are certain that most of our problems would be solved if we could just get a friggin night’s sleep)

To make things even worse, parenting has become something of a competitive sport in America, especially among east-coast educated progressives who are all nauseating know-it-alls and hell bent do-gooders.  Armed with statistics and advice from parenting blogs, moms and dads volley healthy snacks and perfectly timed naps at each other with lightening speed, one upping with references to "restorative justice” or NYT articles about the pros and cons of co-sleeping   DC is an especially competitive parenting league, as it is chock full of (mostly) women who are professionals and would prefer to be working, but are being dragged to DC with their spouses for a relatively temporary assignment, and decide to be a SAHP for a while until their kids are in school.  These (mostly, but not entirely) moms pour the same level of professionalism and expertise into their children as they did into their high-powered careers, and the result is dizzying.  

In the months before we moved to Dakar I didn’t work and got to play quite a bit of rec league “parentball”, and like most sports, discovered out I wasn’t very good at it.  I was at once awed and shamed and morbidly fascinated by these perfectly turned out moms with their snacks and sunscreen.  Whereas my diaper bag was mostly a repository for used kleenex, melted crayons and mysterious food bits, the professional moms at the parks in my neighborhood had  handbags that seemed to be made from the same material as Harry Potter’s tent - no matter what the situation called for - a fresh pair of pants, a parka, a towel, a thermos of soup -  it was pulled at once from the depths of the bag.  While Enzo roamed around the splash pad in just a swimming suit (and maybe a swim diaper if I was having a good, day)  the other kids had sunproof swim shirts and zinc on their noses and sturdy water shoes.  I would inwardly sigh and put a mental check in the “crappy mom” column in my brain.  

I have to admit, I rarely felt overtly judged by the moms around me.  Occasionally i would catch a side eye, some shade thrown from across the swing set,  but it began to dawn on me that most moms were just desperately trying to prove that THEY were good moms, not that I was a bad one.  I wanted to say “you’re doing great! This is hard! If I pick your kid up after she falls off the slide, its not a referendum on you as a person, I was just handy and I am a teacher and it is second nature to me.”  I had the urge to start conversations with “Hey, my kid sleeps on his stomach and started drinking chocolate milk when he was 18 months old” just to clear the air.  But I was too insecure, there were too many check marks accumulating in my crappy mom column, and a particularly nasty inner voice was beginning to wonder aloud if perhaps I wasn’t cut out for this mommy business.

And then we moved overseas. 

 When we arrived in Dakar we had one adorably precocious two year old and vague plans to have another one in a year or two.  We didn’t know that I was already pregnant with what would eventually become our sweet little rascal, Mateo.  When I found out I was pregnant I was not immediately overjoyed, i was in despair - we were still living out of suitcases, I was tired and grieving the loss of the life I knew and bewildered about how to help Enzo manage the transition to this strange new world.   I was mentally exhausted from spending all day trying to speak French, and physically exhausted from the heat and mosquitoes cutting into our sleep, and emotionally exhausted from the impossible task of making a home in this dusty place, and I was in no shape to bring another person into our family.  After a couple days I unpacked my big girl panties and pulled myself together and got busy finding a home and working at the school and slowly began to embrace the idea of another tiny person in our lives.  But I couldn’t shake those check marks, the tally that added up to me being insufficient, and I wondered how I was going to parent another child when I was so far behind the learning curve.

Allow me to take a little detour from my story here.

I have always been aware that I am not a great driver.  I have never gotten into a catastrophic accident, but still, my wandering mind, poor hand eye coordination and slow reflexes mean that I am a mediocre driver at best.  Or at least that is what I used to think.  The truth is, I am not a bad driver, I was just born to drive in Africa.  Your mind can’t wander when there are horse drawn carts, goats, aggressive taxis, giant busses, potholes, reckless pedestrians and the occasional industrial dump truck to contend with.  And because the lanes are narrow and packed no one is going very fast, so my reflexes have ample time to fire up before I am going to go skidding into the car in front of me.  Traffic rules are optional, you can park your car anywhere you feel like stopping, lanes are just suggestions, and when backing out of a parking spot into oncoming traffic there is always a parking attendant ready to stand in your blind spot and wave you out into the street.  I love it.  (I am pretty sure my passengers aren’t nearly as enamored with my driving as I am) 

This is basically how I feel about parenting too.  I am not a bad parent at all, in fact I am a totally kick-ass mom.  As long as I am parenting in Dakar where the rules are flexible, you can take your kids anywhere, and there are always people ready to help you out of a jam. Maybe its because living overseas you learn to take things in stride and reorganize your priorities, or perhaps its the fact that people who choose to live their lives abroad are generally a bunch of freewheeling bohemians, but whatever the reason, parents here are an incredibly relaxed, supportive and non-judgemental group of people.  I love it.  

For example: I regularly leave my boys in the car when I run into the bakery or to the ATM or hop out at the vegetable stand.  I leave the doors locked and the windows open and I can always see them from the store and its never for more than a 5 minutes, but dragging two kids out of the car and through the sidewalk traffic just so I can buy a loaf of bread is insane.  The first time I did it because both kids were asleep, and I HAD to get water.  But now I do it as a matter of routine.

In the US this could get me arrested. 

Which is dumb, because it is objectively safer to leave your kids IN the car than drag them across a busy parking lot.  And the chances of someone breaking into your car and stealing them is infinitesimally small.  And all of us spent hours and hours sitting in the car on weekend mornings while our parent’s ran errands - a few minutes at the store and then at the bank and then at the post office-most of the time we were happy not to go in and stand in line.  I much preferred to wait in the car with my book.  My parents were not worried that a stranger would come by, see me in the car, assume my parents were negligent and abusive and then call the cops.  But now, it is a genuine fear - I don’t trust my neighbors to be on my side, they have become the enemy in my quest to raise my kids. My generation has found other means of supporting each other - online communities and MOPS groups and structured playdates - but there is not a sense that we can rely on our neighbors and community members to have our backs.  it is a lonely and terrifying feeling. 

The phrase “It takes a village to raise a child” has long been bandied about as an “African proverb” - which is kind of a silly notion considering there are upwards of 1500 languages spoken on this massive continent. But regardless of the origins of the phrase, it is a truism about how children are viewed here.  It is a common understanding that everyone within earshot is tacitly responsible for any kids nearby - on the street, in a store, in a restaurant.  And our community of teachers who live on this street are neighbors in the best way - sharing food and kitchen appliances and a helping hand at a moments notice. 

And in this year where I have been alone so much of the time, I have leaned on this village of understanding and generous people many many times.  There was the time at Halloween when I was trying to wrangle two overstimulated and exhausted kids out of Ebbets Field and into the busy night time streets when Mateo suddenly dropped to the ground, in a complete meltdown and I lost Enzo in the rush of people leaving.  A colleague who happened to be behind me scooped up Mateo, a different friend stopped Enzo before he got to the street and a THIRD person, who had just pulled his car up to the gate,  offered to drive him so I only had to lug one kid through the heat to my car.  Once, when I ran out of water I called my friend, Torie, who lives across the street to ask her if she would be willing to come sit in my house while one kid was asleep and the other was watching TV so I could run out and buy water.  She readily agreed, and when I got home (30 minutes later, because of course I had to go to two stores) she was washing my dishes.  Adam and Kayla, who live across the street, host Enzo for a few minutes every week when he chugs over to their house to pick up our weekly yogurt delivery.  He plays with their dogs and helps himself to their food and they are incredibly kind and good humored about it. One day, when it was raining cats and dogs, he was there for more than an hour - I finally dashed over to collect him only to discover that he had nearly talked Kayla into making him lunch. 

This weekend our friends Bill and Cairn (two of our favorite members of the parenting village) asked what we were going to miss the most in Dakar, what we were most worried about moving back to the US.  The number one top of my list item is returning to the world of competitive parenting, of being afraid to ask my neighbors to help, of getting caught up in the madness of shutting kids to “activities” and forgetting to just let them be, of constantly failing to live up to this invisible standard and letting that nasty voice back into my head, the one that tells me that I am not enough.  Instead I need embrace that notion, of course I am not enough, no one is, and the important thing is to find the people who will help you fill in the gaps, and whose gaps you can help to fill as well.  To find the village.  

[grazianosportsreviewgroup]

Final Non-Fiction Essay

Ron Graziano

Nonfiction Expository Essay

2/12/19

Damaged Petals

As I got out of my dad’s Jeep, and stepped into the frigid Chicago weather in the middle of December, I started on the all too familiar two block walk from the parking lot to the entrance of the United Center.  Tonight at the U.C. the Bulls would be hosting the Minnesota Timberwolves.  Halfway into my walk I stopped to notice my surroundings; to my left, and only a few miles away, the magnificent Chicago Skyline gleams in the darkness.  A city that was once burnt to the ground and since built up bigger and better than ever. The skyline is something more than simply pleasing to look at, to a true Chicagoan it carries with it a message of hard work, possibility, and success.  Even with living in or near the city my entire life, every time I see the skyline it still gives me goosebumps.  Then I turned to my right and looked down the opposite direction on Madison street.  What I see is the beginning of a much darker more sinister side of the great city, only a few blocks down, start the gang infested projects of Chicago.

It’s no secret that Chicago’s west and south sides are home to some of the most dangerous street gangs in America.  According to Forbes, “Since 2001, Chicago has experienced 7,916 murders (as of September 06, 2016). The number of Americans killed in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq was 2,384 and 4,504 respectively since 2001.”(McCarthy Niall).  Due to this extreme violence in the city, Chicago is referred to by many as Chiraq.  As you can imagine growing up on these streets, simply surviving day to day can be difficult, let alone trying to better yourself and family with these disastrous circumstances.  However, again right smack in between these two drastically different sides of the city sits the United Center.  Acting as a secret portal for a very select few of lucky individuals to move from one side of the city to the other; from poverty and violence to success and fame.  How do you access this secret portal, it's quite simple, be one of the best basketball players in the world.

Tonight one of Chiraq’s own, Derrick Rose, would be returning to the United Center with vengeance and in hopes to prove he still deserves access to the secret portal and the success and recognition that is awarded on the other side.  As unlike many, as quick as Derrick was able to use his freakish athletic ability and talent to reach the portal, it closed on him due to numerous devastating injuries that left him no longer able to perform at the same level.  Derrick’s return ladies and gentleman is why myself and a fair amount of die hard Bulls fans decided to come out to the United Center on this cold December night.  

Let’s first rewind 10 years and go back to the 2008 NBA draft, and when the portal first opened for Rose: “With the 1st pick in the 2008 NBA draft the Chicago Bulls select Derrick Rose from the University of Memphis.” (David Stern).  It was the perfect story, almost too good to be true, at a less than a 1% chance the kid from streets of Englewood Chicago and best player in the 2008 NBA draft class would be coming home to save the struggling Bulls.  Ever since the end of the Michael Jordan era the Bulls couldn't seem to get over the hump of mediocracy, now there was a newfound sense of hope in the organization and the city of Chicago.  This hope soon turned into a strong sense of belief after Rose lived up to all of the hype and then some, seemingly unguardable off the dribble due to his elusiveness and freakish athletic ability he easily claimed rookie of the year his first season and then at the age of 22 became the youngest MVP in NBA history, while carrying the bulls to the conference championship series for the first time since MJ.  Arguably quicker than anyone before his time, Derrick gained tremendous fame, recognition, and financial benefits.  However as quick as the game of basketball brought all this Success Derrick’s way it was all taken away equally as fast.

Fast forward to the playoffs of the 2011/2012 season, and we see the beginning of the closing of the portal for Derrick.  In round 1, game 1 against the 76ers with 2 minutes left, and the Bulls up 12 points, Derick jumped up on a routine drive to the basket, coming down awkward on his knee and then hitting the ground: "Rose came down bad on his left foot, holding on to his knee, holding on to his knee and down!” (Broadcaster).  The days following the injury the entire city of Chicago held its collective breath hoping the injury would be diagnosed as mere sprain. However, the devastating news would arise that the reigning MVP had torn his ACL.  The heartbreaking fact is that Rose had absolutely no control over the injury; a torn ACL is a freak injury that can happen to anyone at any time.  Rose would miss the entire next season, however he remained strong throughout the recovery process and pledged to come back bigger and better than ever; the portal would remain open for Derrick upon his return.

My family and I entered the stadium and found our seats, right before the player introductions.  The Minnesota Timberwolves being the visiting team were announced first.  Rose’s name is announced and a fair amount of fans paid their respect and clapped for their former MVP; nothing compared to the support during his MVP caliber years.  The game starts and Rose wastes little time, quickly impressing on his once home court.  After dishing out a few pretty dimes, Rose then scored his first point of the game attacking the hoop getting knocked off guard by the defender and somehow getting a fade away floater to fall from what seemed like behind the backboard.  An amazing finish from one of the leagues once best finishers.

After Rose sat out an entire year due to rehab for his torn ACL, Rose would return back to game action in the 2013/2014 season; Unfortunately this return wouldn’t last as long as he’d hope.  Only a few months into the season Rose would suffer another devastating torn ligament in his knee; this time tearing the meniscus in his right knee.  While not as bad of an injury as the ACL, Rose would still be put in the I/R and not return for the remainder of the 2013/2014 season.  Now, with two torn major ligaments in less than two years suffered by a player who predominantly relies on his freakish athletic ability and quickness, many were wondering if the league's youngest MVP would be able to return to the same level of play.  Knowing these devastating injuries may inhibit Derrick’s future ability to successfully perform, the question now becomes, how much longer should/can management and Bulls fans afford to leave the portal open for Rose.

Later in the first quarter Rose continued his dominant play by sifting through the entire Bulls defense and going up and over Chicago big man Lauri Markedden.  Already,  Rose had penetrated the paint and scored 3 times, and it started to feel as if someone had turned back the clocks to the old D-Rose Bulls fans used to watch on a nightly basis at the U.C.  

Now in the 2014/2015 season Rose and the Bulls would be in must-win mode after having 3 lost seasons due to injury.  However, mid way through the season the unthinkable happened: Rose suffered a slight tear in the same meniscus he tore last season.  He would return later in the season, however Chicago would only make it past 1 round of the playoffs.  After a mediocre following season where Bulls missed the playoffs for the first time in 8 years,  the Bulls would proceed to trade Rose to the Knicks; giving up on their once hometown hero, and believed to be next coming of Jordan.  In New York, Rose would now have to attempt to access an even more inpenentral portal called the Madison Square Garden.

Still in the first quarter and Rose is absolutely showing out.  Rose off the dribble during transition pulls up for a mid range jumper and banks it in off the glass; a shot he didn't have before the injuries and that he was able to develop during his time spent in rehab.  Then Rose absolutely blew by Kris Dunn, point guard on the bulls, for an easy teardrop layup, giving him 8 first quarter points.  With Rose leading the Wolves to an 11 point lead after the first quarter many fans in the stadium seemed to increasingly care less about the state of their struggling Bulls, because of the amazing show their former MVP was putting on.

Now playing for the Knicks, Rose struggles out of the gate only showing flashes of his old self, however considering the change of scenery and injuries he’s had to deal with this was expected.  Finally, against all odds, in the second half of the season Rose began to adjust and started playing at a high level again, averaging 18 points a game.   In April however, Rose would tear the meniscus in his other (left) knee.  Again knocking him out for the remainder of the season, and not only striking doubt in his athletic ability upon return but whether or not he could/should even continue playing the game considering the beating his knees had taken in such a short amount of time.

In the second half Rose picked up right where he left off.  After posting 14 first half points Rose started off the 3rd quarter knocking down a contested three; the 3 point shot being another newly developed aspect in Rose’s game.  After hitting this shot you got the sense that Rose wasn’t just playing to get the win for the Wolves but he wanted to put on a show for his old city and prove to everyone who doubted him, everyone that counted him out, he still has it.  Could Rose do the impossible and potentially re-open the portal after it had been seemingly closed for good by the Bulls organization and their fans?

Now in the 2017/2018 season, the portal in New York closes and Rose is forced to search for another organization to give him a chance.  Rose ended up reaching a deal with the Cleveland Cavaliers, however one that would significantly decrease the benefits on the other side of the portal.   The former MVP of the league from only 5 seasons ago, would just make 2.1 million on a comical 1 year deal, where a starting role wouldn’t be guaranteed.  Rose’s stint with the Cavaliers would end up being a complete trainwreck; Rose would reach rock bottom of his basketball career in Cleveland.  He hardly played for the team due to more injuries, and even ended up stepping away from the team for an extended period of time to consider retirement.  Later in the season he ends up returning to be traded to the jazz and then immediately dropped.  At this point the story of Rose’s career is perceived to be all but written; a player with once one of the greatest potentials and raw talents in NBA history whose career would be unfortunately cut short due to a plethora of horrible knee injuries.  The portal is now closed by all NBA organizations as rose is now regarded as a washed up player with no value/ability.  However, near the end of the season Rose is given a 10 day contract by the Timberwolves.

Now in the 4th quarter with the Timberwolves up 17 points on the Bulls, Rose scored his final bucket of the game and boy was it a memorable one.  Rose put a nasty spin move on Kris Dunn allowing him to get to the rim, where he somehow managed to make the layup while being hacked by a help defender, displaying his famous ability to take a hit and contort his body in mid air all while having the strength, focus, and soft touch to finish the layup.   As Bulls broadcaster Stacy King used to describe him in his MVP days: ‘Too big, too strong, too fast, too good!’.

At the line something truly amazing happened, some Bulls fans began giving rose the M.V.P. chant, and before you knew it every fan still in attendance, joined in and was yelling M.V.P. M.V.P. M.V.P… Rose, gave a quick smile to his once hometown crowd and drained the free throw.  Rose now realizing that the portal that he once used almost on a nightly basis to bring all his success and fortune was successfully reopened for one more night.  

Whether or not Rose can consistently play at this level, and like the player he once was before the injuries is anyone's guess.  However what we do know is in an effort to regain recognition,  Derrick will never give up and stop striving to be the best basketball player in the world, as this very dream is what awarded him his success.  While as rewarding and lucrative this dream is for Rose and anyone who has the ability to utilize the sports portal to gain success, it is important to remember that if one does not possess the increasingly difficult abilities they will never be granted access in the first place, and arguably worse, like in Rose’s case it can easily close due to uncontrollable/external factors.  In the words of Tupac Shakur: “We wouldn't ask why a rose that grew from the concrete (had) damaged petals, in turn, we would all celebrate its tenacity, we would all love its will to reach the sun, well, we are the roses, this is the concrete and these are my damaged petals, don’t ask me why, thank god, and ask me how.” (Tupac Shakur) Due to the unpredictability and lack of security in the current available options for the ‘how’, maybe it’s time we start asking why.

Citations

McCarthy, Niall. “Homicides In Chicago Eclipse U.S. Death Toll In Afghanistan And Iraq.”

Forbes, Forbes Magazine, 8 Sept. 2016.

[flauntpage]

A Guide to Understanding All the Clichés You'll Hear This NHL Season

A real pro's pro plays the game the right way, especially in the dirty areas, by getting pucks in deep and on net while consistently making good hockey play after good hockey play with a high compete level for a full 60 every time they step on the ice.

If you have literally no idea what that means, then this guide to hockey clichés is for you.

It's often not clear exactly what commentators, coaches, and players mean when they spit out cliché after cliché during day-to-day broadcasts, media scrums, and pressers, so let us enlighten you.

These are the gems you will hear most during the NHL season, and a translation of what they actually mean.

Play the Right Way

This versatile cliché is a favorite of both broadcasters and players alike, but the media especially likes to really lean on this baby. A commentator or analyst may use it in the context of praising a mediocre talent who has no notable skills or stand-out talents but is still somehow cashing a regular NHL paycheck. Can also be used to describe a team that sucks but is very entertaining to watch.

"They really play the game the right way."

Translation: This dude and/or team can't particularly skate, shoot, pass, create turnovers, score on the powerpay or kill penalties—and really does nothing of note, ever—but they're in the NHL somehow, so, here we are.

Pucks on Net

Legendary. This puppy has been around since the dawn of time and is most often used by players during pregame and intermission interviews, where deep, analytical in-game strategy such as this is discussed.

"Ahh, we just needa get more pucks on net and good things will happen."

Translation: Uhhhh, I got my head smashed into the glass several times in the first period, so, not exactly sure what you just asked me, but I do know we're just going to take some shots on that big ol’ mesh thing over there for the rest of the game and hope for the best.

Dirty Areas

Refers to anywhere on the ice where one boasts a particular high risk of getting destroyed via an elbow, shoulder or stick to the chops. These areas include along the boards, in front of the net, at each blueline, and in the corners. They are the spots where legends are made and brain cells are murdered at a rapid pace.

"We need to get to those dirty areas and fight for those pucks."

Translation: Lol by 'we' I mean that talentless goon playing on my left wing. I get paid to score, bruh—Imma chill right here in this cozy high-slot area until you find me.

Worst Lead in Hockey

This here is an extra weird one because no one can really figure out what the worst lead in hockey really is. Is a two-goal lead the worst lead in hockey? Or is it a three-goal lead? Both variations have been used time and time again, and both variations are extremely dumb. A broadcaster and commentator favorite.

"Everybody knows a three-goal lead is the worst lead in hockey!"

Translation: l don't understand simple math, as most would agree that one goal is, in fact, the worst lead in hockey.

You Know / And uhh, but uhh

These are space fillers used when the proper words simply aren't surfacing during a presser or postgame scrum. Some guys, like Brock Boeser for instance, have gloriously taken these to the next level.

Translation: l have no idea what I'm actually saying, nor do I even, in the slightest bit, wish to speak with you right now, peasant reporter.

Heavy Shot

Another way to describe a hard shot, for some reason. Really couldn't tell you the difference between heavy and hard (hint: there's none) when it comes to puck velocity, but many broadcasters and players will drop this term when someone who doesn't look like they can shoot hard actually does.

"His shot doesn't seem that hard but it's deceptively heavy."

Translation: That dude weights like a buck-30 and shouldn't be able to shoot that hard so we need to throw another adjective in there to confuse people as much as we are.

Along the Wall

One of the dirty areas. The trenches! That large plastic wall that surrounds the entire 200 by 85-foot ice surface, AKA, the boards.

"We need to play harder along the wall."

Translation: No one on our team wants to get their skulls crushed into the boards or glass to retrieve a stupid puck. We don't care THAT much.

Compete Level

A nice, less-insulting way of saying a player and/or team sucks ass. Also dropped commonly when a player or team as a whole is extremely hungover. Compete = work ethic.

"We know we have the skill and talent but our compete level just wasn't there today."

Translation: We didn’t work hard enough to win because we logged too many hours at The Tavern last night and most were scared to piss themselves right on the ice.

Goal-Scorer's Goal

Technically, every goal that enters the net is a goal-scorer's goal because, well, the person who scored is officially a goal-scorer and that would be their goal. However, this particular term refers to those highlight-reel tallies that really only a select few players can pull off.

"See Ovi on that one? Just an absolute goal-scorer's goal there, wow!"

Translation: Player who is good at scoring indeed scores a nice goal.

He's Going to Want That One Back

Very dumb term describing a goaltender's mindset after allowing a weak or soft goal which doesn't take into account the fact that every goalie who has ever played the position wants every single goal they've ever allowed back. Another commentator favorite.

"That one slid right through the wickets. Andersen is definitely going to want that one back."

Translation: I have zero idea how to analyze goaltending so I'm just going to shit this generic saying out of my mouth because I heard someone else say it before.

Pucks in Deep

The simple art of flipping the puck into the offensive zone or rimming it around the boards (rather than carrying it into the zone) with hopes that some good work along the wall will result in possession down low. "Deep" refers to behind the net, below the goal line, and in the corners. Some of the dirty areas, if you will.

"We gotta get more pucks in deep on this defense." Translation: Let's just dump the puck in constantly and crush some opposing defenseman's skull, shall we?

Good Stick

A player who is efficient at retrieving pucks and forcing turnovers is often said to have a good stick. A skater (or goalie) with the ability to sneak in some greasy, undetected slashes, spears and trips without getting penalized is also utilizing a good stick. Also referred to as active stick.

"Ahhh, Fergy had a good stick going tonight."

Translation: Fergy jabbed some dude right in the junk without getting caught. Good for him.

Play a Full 60

A hockey game is, usually, 60 minutes long, so this is, in fact, the least confusing of any clichés we've presented here. It literally just means a team or individual plays fairly well for the entire game and doesn't shit the bed for part of it.

"We needed to play a full 60 tonight but just didn't have it."

Translation: We're way too out of shape to giver full-out for that long every night.

A Good Hockey Play

Usually refers to an absolutely egregious hit or controversial penalty that Old School Hockey Men feel is a part of playing the game the right way (see above).

"You hate to see anyone get hurt but that hit was just a good hockey play."

Translation: Though it resulted in a severe concussion and spinal cord injury, that was very entertaining to watch from the stands or in front of my TV.

A Real Pro's Pro

Basically, a player who isn't very good but he sticks in the league because everybody likes him a lot.

"Bobby's best days are behind him but man oh man is he ever a real pro's pro."

Translation: Bobby can barely skate anymore but no one, and I mean no one, organizes team benders like him. We gotta keep him around.

A Character/Glue Guy

Similar to a pro's pro in the sense that the glue guy is universally loved and does a lot to keep morale in the dressing room high, but these are the lads who specifically take on the role of trying to beat the shit out of anyone who messes with their teammates.

"Chubbs is just oozing with character."

Translation: Chubbs is a meathead and is willing to punch anyone in the face who looks at him or his teammates sideways—we love Chubbs.

Giving it 110 Percent

Yeah, this one really sucks. Rather than break it down for you, we'll let this clip from arguably the greatest episode of The Simpsons take it from here:

We Wanted it More

No, I assure you that you did not.

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports CA.

A Guide to Understanding All the Clichés You'll Hear This NHL Season published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[oeuvrelydramatic]

Not A Dirty Word (Part 1)

‘I’m not a lesbian’ I declared, offended in a skort too big for my year 7 thighs or lack thereof. ‘Just because I go to a girl’s school, they all think I’m going to be a lesbian. But I’m not.’ I don’t think she wanted my input really. She was making the point that she’d been made fun of for going to a girls’ school because they thought she’d end up gay. I never got any of that. But still I pretended to, just so I could clarify that I, 100%, definitely would not end up being a lesbian.

I don’t think I knew then that I’d end up being gay. I’m not trying to say that I’d had feelings for girls all the way through primary school, that I always knew that I was different. Because I didn’t. And I’m not, really.

I was one of the first people in my class to learn what a lesbian was. I remember Annabel Lloyd pointing out to me some graffiti on a sign that read ‘lesbian sex’ on the way back from a school trip at about 10 years old. I remember being very confused about anyone’s motive for writing such vulgar things on a road sign and very confused about why she’d point it out to me. But I was also extremely confused about what it actually meant. I remember getting out my kindle late at night, turning on the reading light clipped to the headboard of my bed, positioning it under my covers so that my mum wouldn’t see the light from under my door, and somehow finding my way to urban dictionary. Of course, I read the definition of ‘lesbian’ and learned what it meant but then I fell down the rabbit hole, learning about various things that 10 year old me shouldn’t have been learning.

And so it began. Being ‘lesbian’ meant that you liked girls, but it was an under-the-covers thing. It was something vulgar that stupid kids graffiti-ed onto road signs. It wasn’t anything I’d ever experienced, it wasn’t anything I’d ever be able to talk about. It was just another word I knew that I felt that I shouldn’t.

I don’t remember the first time I was exposed to lesbian relationships in media. I don’t even think I can remember the last time I was exposed to a lesbian relationship in media. It wasn’t really real to me. It was never anything I’d have to deal with.

Now I never really said I liked boys. My ideas about love were rather mixed up from the very beginning, from years of having confusing feelings about Holly Palmer that just crossed the line past friendship and into something a little bit more and the years and years of being told by the church that I would get married to a man, have lots of children and be a good wife and mother. So, when it came to boys this seemed easy: I’d pick a boy that I was really good friends with (because that’s just what Holly was, obviously) and then just marry him and have his kids because then I could go to heaven.

It didn’t bother me much. I never really spoke to anyone at all about crushes or romance or anything. My mum wasn’t interested, my dad would rather just play games than talk about that kind of stuff, so it was never important to me.

Until year 7. The first time that I’d ever had a discussion about lesbianism. And that’s where we come to my vast and sweeping statement ‘I am not a lesbian’. I pronounced it ‘lezz-bee-uuuuuun’, in the same way that you’d say ‘ommmmmmmmmmm’ when someone was doing something naughty in front of a teacher. And I felt the same. We were in the dance studio at school, ready for PE and we were discussing lesbians so, naturally I felt the need to clarify.

So my life was simple: I wasn’t a lesbian. I didn’t like boys. I didn’t like anyone. One day I’d end up with someone but it wasn’t a big deal. The only things on my list of life plans were to go to Australia and to go to university in America, (neither of which I want to do anymore).

I was in the school play. I’d been in the school play in year 7 and my passion and enthusiasm for my role of an unnamed chorus member coupled with my mediocre-at-best acting and singing skills earned me a callback for a main part in next year’s production. I met a girl called Seren in the callbacks. She was nice and pretty, talented and had an amazing mane of blonde curly hair. We talked a little, me being the only year 7 in the callbacks and, when neither of us got the parts we wanted, we ended up together in the (named!) chorus member chorus. So, here I was mixed up in a chorus full of girls who felt much much older than me and I fell in with Seren and her friends. And I met Alice. Seren’s friend, both of them a year older than me so had a far greater understanding of the world, as your worldly knowledge does seem to increase exponentially in between the ages of 13 and 14. So when Alice pointed to the logo on a flip chart which said something containing the word ‘bi’ and declared ‘haha me!’ they seemed rather confused at my confusion and must have thought it rather odd that they had to explain bisexuality to me.

From there I was exposed to a world of queer culture. When I was friends with them I learned about everything (or what I thought was everything at the time) and I really thought I knew what was what. After a couple of odd ‘slightly more than best friends’ crushes on other girls I made another proud declaration in regards to my sexuality.

‘I’m bisexual.’ I knew it would be fine because I’d end up with a man anyway eventually, I could marry him and then go to heaven no matter what I felt about girls.

I was telling my stepmum about all my friends in the top level car park of House of Fraser. I told her about how all my friends were some form of not-straight and she replied with a question that sent my brain into a meltdown ‘so, what are you then?’ I replied with a rather hesitant, cautious ‘I’m bisexual.’

She said it was no big deal. She said that she felt ‘that way’ about girls sometimes, and that she knew that I wasn’t straight as soon as I said that Jensen Ackles wasn’t that attractive. And so it was out in the open, in the closed bond of trust between the two of us. It was okay.

And I was okay.

At the start of the year I had been put (to my displeasure) in a new class. Instead of being taught in form groups, like the school used to do up until GCSE level, now we were all mixed up and I was in ‘8M’. I wasn’t very happy with my class. I didn’t really like anyone in it. I didn’t really like anyone who was in my year group for most of year 8, but there were a few people I did. And none of them were in 8M. So, I was forced to socialise and quickly learned that the girl I thought I’d recognised was ‘Mol’. I followed her on Instagram because she was friends with a scary girl from my form, who had tagged her in a post. From there I saw all the ‘aesthetical’ posts (as she used to call them) that she was so proud of and instantly deemed her much too cool for me to socialise with. So I knew who she was. I pointed her out to Hollie Bowker in the courtyard.

‘Oh I know her. That’s Mol’

I didn’t know her. I knew of her. But it was more impressive that way so I just went with it. So we never really talked in the first few weeks, for the first term at all really until history. We were sat together in history, at the point when we were learning about the suffragettes. I, being witty, hilarious and knowledgeable about queer culture as ever, made a joke about how the suffragettes were just a society of secret lesbians, who’s meetings were like safe spaces to just be gay.

She laughed. Like, a lot. I didn’t think she’d find it all that funny, nobody else really ever found me funny, let alone my annoyingly frequent and stereotypically out-of-Place references to queer culture. So, before I knew it we were friends.

Now, dear reader, knowing what we know about my complicated history with friendships and the lines between romantic and platonic relationships, what are we to expect for my relationship with the pretty girl who was way out of my league (me being the nerdy nerd and her being the more popular ‘tumblr’ nerd) ?

So we talked. A lot. I’m not sure we really discussed her sexuality for a while but I knew she was comfortable making jokes about it. Before I knew it she was planning our wedding. We’d have Vera Wang wedding dresses and get married in spring. And me, being the hopeless romantic I am, fell hopelessly in love with her.

I waited a few months in silence, trying to gauge what she felt but it got to a point where I couldn’t wait any longer.

So, by September 17th, 2015 I was in my first relationship. And it was with a girl.

So. I wasn’t really okay anymore. How could I get married in my Vera Wang wedding dress to another person wearing a Vera Wang wedding dress and still go to heaven? Did I care about heaven anymore? It was still probably just going to be a stupid tween romance. Just a girl crush. Probably just two super best friends who didn’t know any better.

We went on our first date sometime in October, where we saw the movie Suffragette. We held hands all the way through, and I really wanted to kiss her but I could feel the glare of the old couple in the back row. Plus, how do you even do that?! How do you kiss someone? Is it weird to kiss people in public? I’d seen plenty of straight couples do it at bus stops and in restaurants so why not do it at the cinema? But no, the gaze of probable homophobia scared me off and I waited a good two months before I made the first move.

I never kissed her in public when we were dating, we never really went further than holding hands in front of everyone else. We outwardly appeared to be super duper best friends.

It was during this time that I experienced my first and only real degree of homophobia from a stranger.

Molly and I were holding hands, just walking out of the park, when a woman with a baby in her push chair shouted rather loudly:

‘Dykes’.

I hated that word. I hated it so very much. I hated that she had had a child. That she, unlike me, had the chance to have a biological child with someone she presumably loved only to poison it with toxic, homophobic bullshit like this.

But we moved on.

It didn’t really change how we interacted in public, it just made me a lot more cautious and self conscious. At any sign of a glaring eye we both knew when to widen the space between us and un-entwine our hands. We both knew that we’d never be able to kiss at bus stops like the other girls could with their boyfriends, but it was okay.

We were still happy.

It was December 17th at my house when I finally made a move. It was the last time I was going to see Molly before the Christmas holidays. I’d drawn her some fanart and bought us matching necklaces, the epitome of romance.

My mum, being very very Mormon, had absolutely no idea about any of this. I was certain I could tell my dad, he wouldn’t mind, but I wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t accidentally let it slip to her and ruin everything.

So I waited until it was past midnight. We were in the middle of watching Phantom of the Opera when it started to buffer, and didn’t seem like it would work. I had been thinking about it for months. How would I do it? What was it like to kiss someone?

Now, my experience of lesbians getting -physical- came from 3 seasons of Orange Is The New Black. Everything I saw was scandalous. For a start, I was watching under the covers in incognito mode on my browser and clearing my Netflix watch history promptly afterwards, but also it was portrayed as something sexual. Something women did because they were confined to just a pool of other women, as a way to release pent up sexuality that would usually have been exhibited to a man at home.

So I did it. Expecting to feel like it was wrong, like it was scandalous or dirty. But I was so wrong. Nothing in the world felt more natural to me than pressing my lips against hers and telling her that I loved her in between breaths.

I’m sure I was an awful kisser. I bet we both were. Neither of us had any experience, but it was amazing. It was like I’d found the piece of the jigsaw puzzle that fit into place and made me feel like I was finally what I was meant to be. I was gay. I was in a relationship with another girl. I was in love.

Fuck.

So now I was convinced. There was no way out. No easy loophole to just say ‘oh yeah but I still want to be with a man’ because I didn’t. That didn’t stop me lying to everyone around me and trying to convince myself to be bisexual. I wanted to be with her, heaven wasn’t on the cards anymore.

We broke up a month later, the result of the absolute stupidity of my year 9 self, but we after a while we managed to still be friends.

Friends.

Lesbian relationships have always had such a distinct tie to friendship in my mind. Everything I saw on TV presented lesbian couples as either hyper-sexual beings, only doing it for men’s attention, or just what could easily be perceived as being super duper best friend gal pals.

Our relationship didn’t change much. Sure, I never got the chance to kiss her after that one night but we were still friends. We still got to laugh at each other’s jokes and give each other hugs.

I wasn’t friends with Alice and Seren anymore. Again, my stupid year 9 self managed to ruin all my relationships with everyone around me so I can’t blame them for hating me. They did hate me for a while, I’m sure but I never blamed them. About a week after we fell out they ended up dating. I had seen it ever since I met them, I knew there was something more than just friendship.

It was hard, being in an all-girls school. There were lots of friends that were more than friends but there were also lots of friends that were just super best friends. I thought, at first, that it was like Orange Is The New Black. That girls would just be with other girls because there were no boys around. I know now that I was very wrong but that’s how I thought at the time.

So Alice and Seren were dating and Molly and I were not. Even though I didn’t speak to them anymore I now finally had an example of what a lesbian relationship looked like. I know, I know, I’d already been in one, but I had no clue what I was doing. I really wished that I could just have some non-fictional frame of reference for the whole time we were dating. Now, though a little late, I finally saw an example of what lesbian love looked like. Like normal people, doing normal things, being normal and in love.

It was after around 6 months of not dating that things started to go back, even more, to the way they had been before. We held hands, we made jokes about getting married and we hugged. Tighter and longer than I ever did with anyone else. And after a couple more weird friend-crushes I told myself would help me get over her, I admitted to myself that I was still in love.

My friends all saw that there was still something there. Our stupid year 9 romance had meant so much to me, and it still rang through every echo of our ‘friendship’. We weren’t ‘just friends’ but we were just ‘friends’. There are wasn’t any real commitment or full expression of feelings, but we both knew that there was something there.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 8th July 2018

All right, I really don’t want to talk about Drake. Let me elaborate: Drake has made a lot of music I love ever since he started rapping, but honestly, after a few years, he just got too popular and lost my interest because, like anyone at their peak, kind of got the mindset of “I can do whatever the hell I want and still get money” – which is, in fact, true. His laziest, mediocre, most boring and cheap songs seem to be his most successful, and that kind of aggravates me, when he’s capable of much better and puts it out, only for it to pale popularity-wise in comparison to the trash that he can spit out. Hence, I am glad UK chart regulations have shortened my Drake-load to only three songs, while America has 27 Drake songs in the Hot 100. Let’s stop rambling and get on into the top 10.

Top 10

Surprisingly, Drake just couldn’t knock George Ezra’s “Shotgun” off of its top spot, now at its second week there. That would be Drake’s third number-one debut this week if not for this track’s somewhat odd amount of strength as a hit. Huh.

Oh, yeah, speaking of Drake, we have “Don’t Matter to Me” from his latest album Scorpion, featuring posthumous vocals from Michael Jackson and uncredited vocals from Paul Anka, debuting at the runner-up spot.

“Solo” by Clean Bandit featuring Demi Lovato is down one spot to number-three, somehow still toppling two Drake songs.

The highest of those two being “Nonstop”, debuting at number-four.

Drake also takes up the number-five spot with “Emotionless”, and just like that, he takes up three spots in the top five of both the US and UK charts. Delightful, it’s like the charts are his house that he rents every Summer.

Due to Drake, we have some decent fallers in the top 10, including number-six, “2002” by Anne-Marie, down three spots to number-six.

Also down by three positions is “I’ll be There” by Jess Glynne, now at number-seven.

“I Like It” by Cardi B featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin stays at number-eight from last week.

“If You’re Over Me” by Years & Years is also down three spaces to number-nine, but that will definitely rebound with their new album and all next week.

Finally, “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B creeps into the top ten at #10 due to a three-spot increase.

Climbers

Yeah, not much increased this week at all. Mostly debuts from last week had smaller gains, but those aren’t really notable. There are seven-space jumps for “Taste” by Tyga featuring Offset up to #27 and “Nevermind” by Dennis Lloyd up to #32, but other than those and “Oh My” by Dappy featuring Ay Em going up five spots to #26, there’s nothing to go and talk to home about here.

Fallers

There are a LOT of small fallers this week, especially for trap-rap and hip-hop since Drake took over that demographic, so I’ll only mention the bigger ones for pop and go rapid-fire for hip-hop. “One Kiss” by Calvin Harris and Dua Lipa is down six to #16, as is “Familiar” by Liam Payne and J Balvin down to #20, as well as “no tears left to cry” by Ariana Grande now at #29. “Flames” by David Guetta and Sia took an eight-spot hit to #34, and “Girls” by Rita Ora featuring Cardi B, Bebe Rexha and Charli XCX didn’t fare well either, down eleven spots to #38, joining Cheat Codes and Little Mix at the bottom of the top 40 as their track “Only You” is down eight spaces to #40 after its debut last week.

Now, for hip-hop: XXXTENTACION – for obvious reasons – didn’t have a good week, with “SAD!” down nine to #14, “Moonlight” down 14 to #31, and “changes” down 15 to #37. Post Malone’s “Better Now” is also down eight to #15, taking an identical drop to “German” by EO, now at #23. And rapid-fire for the lesser falls: “Praise the Lord (Da Shine)” by A$AP Rocky and Skepta hit #21, alongside “Butterflies” by AJ Tracey and Not3s at #22. Women in hip-hop suffered too, as “Man Down” by Shakka and AlunaGeorge hit #30 and “Bed” by Nicki Minaj and Ariana Grande had a five-spot injury down to #35.

Dropouts

Drake dropped out the charts. Somehow, “Nice for What” featuring uncredited vocals from Big Freedia and 5thward Weebie is out of the charts from #25, despite the album release and it hitting #1 in the US. That’s really odd, actually.

Other than that, “Love Lies” by Khalid and Normani is out from #33, “Answerphone” by Banx & Ranx and Ella Eyre featuring Yxng Bane is out from #37 and “Family Tree” by Ramz is out from #38, with most of the songs being pretty much at the end of their run, although “Answerphone” is fading away much quicker than I expected it to.

Returning Entries

There is one returning entry this week due to the World Cup and it’s an interesting case. Let’s talk about it.

#24 – “Three Lions” – Baddiel, Skinner and the Lightning Seeds

“Three Lions” is a Britpop song written by rock band Lightning Seeds, as well as comedians David Baddiel and Frank Skinner, known for hosting the show Fantasy Football League together. It originally hit #1 in 1996 because it was made to celebrate England hosting the European championships, however it has since been recontextualised for World Cup events. In 1998, it was re-recorded and hit #1 once again, but that version never really stuck. Instead, every four years (and sometimes in between due to the European Championships), the original 1996 track kept on returning to the top 40 or top 100, peaking differently each time – in 2002 it was #16, while it was #9 in 2006, #10 in 2010 (alongside a second re-recording that peaked at #21, released with Robbie Williams and Russell Brand under the name THE SQUAD), #77 in 2012, #27 in 2014, #84 in 2016, and finally, #24 in 2018. It has a strong legacy and will go down as an official anthem for English sport, but is it actually any good?

Well, I’ve never been too much of a fan of music that’s too rowdy or ladsy (for lack of a better word), including a lot of Britpop, but this is too safe for even that. The hook is so weakly delivered with not really much of a passion at all, and I’m not sure if any of these guys can actually sing – don’t get me wrong, it’s catchy and I appreciate all the references to other notable English football moments, as well as some being sampled in an instrumental break that includes a nice guitar/synth refrain that slowly grows in intensity but then it all drops off at that anti-climactic, weaksauce chorus! Skinner’s vocoded, for God’s sake. Put some passion into the main vocals as much as you do with all the backing and left-ear-exclusive vocalising. Yeah, I’m not too much of a fan, but hey, I’ll chip in and have some hope for my own country. Come on, England! It’s coming home!

Wait, sorry, no, it’s not, we just lost against Croatia. God, it’s going to be depressingly ironic when this hits #1 next week – and it probably will.

DRAKE (new arrivals)

#5 – “Emotionless” – Drake featuring Mariah Carey

This is technically a solo Drake song that samples Mariah Carey, but I want to credit her as a feature here because I find it odd (and kind of awesome) how she’s done nothing of note this year and yet she’s still had two top 10 hits in the US since December simply by convenience, the first being “All I Want for Christmas is You”, the second being this new track from Scorpion, and, yeah, you know this is a No I.D. beat as soon as you hear Mariah Carey’s powerful vocals over the simple piano chords and a choir being pummelled by this bass and the skittering hi-hats, very similarly to “The Story of O.J.” by JAY-Z, which he produced last year, especially with how the sampled vocals are chopped-up at times, setting the stage for Drake to body this track with his rhymes about... condemning females using social media and modern technology to enjoy their time in foreign places, specifically Rome, and how he wasn’t hiding his kid from the world, he was hiding the world from his kid (that basically means the exact same thing, Drake, you can’t switch that!). He takes some shots at Kanye and mentions how the wise man once said nothing at all, which apparently, Drake cannot do throughout this year as he’s dissing Pusha T and Kanye throughout the album subtly, and then there’s an awkward fade-out to a nice funky, jazzy piano section that just seems kind of out of place and unnecessary? It doesn’t even lead up to the next song on the album (that’s “God’s Plan”), it’s just kind of there. Okay, but the beat is fantastic, so check this out anyway.

#4 – “Nonstop” – Drake

This nearly debuted at #1 in the US. I’m sorry, but what does anyone see in this?! This is boring. This is trash. This is Drake and his producers just not trying. Drake half-mumbles his verses for the most-part, with some pretty cringeworthy lines about how he’s light-skinned but still a dark man mentally, and how he’s a wig-splitter or whatever the hell. This beat is literally just a bass and some cheap trap percussion I could probably download from Loopmasters right now. This hook is literally just a sample from a Mack Daddy Ju song repeating with static effects and distortion, to the point where it’s unrecognisable and a massive waste of sample clearance money. I can’t believe Wheelchair Jimmy could make a Lil Xan song, but here we are: a sleep-inducing, probably drug-addled sleepwalk through Drake’s mind with more ad-libs than bars, which is probably how I’d describe his album – just replace ad-libs with pointless samples, for which “In My Feelings” is probably the worst case. I’m glad that one didn’t debut. Oh, yeah, and there’s the opening part, which is supposed to be cool and all but all he says is he flipped a switch and has some dumb “flip, flip” ad-lib afterwards, like, what are you trying to do, Drake? No matter what you’re trying to do, you’re failing immensely.

#2 – “Don’t Matter to Me” – Drake featuring Michael Jackson and Paul Anka

So, combining his enthusiasm for both lazy sampling and grave-robbery, Drake decided to buy some unreleased material from Michael Jackson that he wrote with Paul Anka, who provides additional vocals on the song, in 1983, recorded in the same session that lead to “Love Never Felt So Good”, another posthumous single Jackson released with Justin Timberlake in 2014. Surprisingly, Drake sloppily rap-singing over deceased R&B singers has proven to be a working formula, as he does the same stunt with Static Major on the best song on the album, “After Dark”. It’s vaguely tropical in its production, with some nice, warm synths and handclaps as well as some accentuated 808s that set the stage once again for Drake, who has a charm in his badly-sung verses. Michael Jackson’s pre-chorus is okay, and the King of Pop’s chorus is somewhat lowkey, which is a shockingly calm, subtle vocal hook for MJ but possibly an overly dramatic performance for self-certified wig-splitter Drake. Also, I know the audio was from the 1980s, but this could really have been mixed better, especially in the kind of excruciating pre-chorus and bridge (which is just all over the place with unnecessary reverb and echo). Come on, Drake, the mixing throughout this album is way too amateur for someone of your status. JAY-Z’s verse on “Talk Up” might as well have not been there before you made it louder when you pulled a Kanye and changed your own album, cluttering “In My Feelings” even more in the process and not changing this track and “March 14”, which need better mixing, or “Final Fantasy”, which really should have had the unnecessary bridge that samples the Maury skit cut, or “Emotionless”, which could do with you leaving the profanities intact on the explicit version of the album (how do you mess that up, honestly?), or even “Blue Tint”, by giving Future the verse he rightly deserves, instead of just sticking him onto the chorus as an uncredited hook-singer. Maybe you could have put songs on the right side of the album? Side A was darker hip-hop and trap, why is “God’s Plan” on there? Side B was smoother, funkier alternative R&B, why are “Blue Tint” and “Nice for What” on there? Thankfully, this will probably and hopefully be the last time I review a Drake song until my end-of-year lists – in which knowing Drake, he’ll probably make both worst AND best – so I can say I’ve slain this dragon for now (if Pusha T hadn’t done it already).

Conclusion

I mean, what do you think? I can’t give anything to the returning entries, so I have to give Drake something or other. “Nonstop” easily takes Worst of the Week – that is a dreadfully boring song – while I think I’ll give Best of the Week to “Emotionless”, and Honourable Mention to “Don’t Matter to Me” with Michael Jackson and Paul Anka for at least... trying. See you next week.

[junker-town]

NWSL Week 9 in review: Sky Blue’s win over Portland Thorns had a high-stakes feel in midseason

Sky Blue’s always played well against the Thorns, and on Saturday the team from New Jersey did it again, rolling into Providence Park and handing Portland its first home loss in a very long time.

New Jersey is funny. It’s a strange place to live, one mired in a dozen made for TV stereotypes about big hair, big mouths and big men who murder people for…I have no idea why because I’ve never actually seen The Sopranos. Once, in Vermont, I found someone had affixed a sticker to my NJ license plate-bearing car. “Don’t Jersey Vermont,” it said. Arriving in Houston for last year’s NWSL final, my Uber driver, upon learning I was in town from Jersey, immediately asked if it was “anything like what’s on the TV.” No? Yes? I don’t know.

What I do know is that living here means, in some ways, living with a chip on your shoulder, the shadow of either NYC in the north, or Philly in the south, always looming large. Mostly, our sports teams don’t even claim here, even when they play here.

Sky Blue FC is, in terms of pro sports, one of the only teams that not only plays in Jersey, but also proudly claims it. Sky Blue is also, historically, not very good, either on the field or in the attendance department. It’s never been a bad team, exactly, just a not great one. In four seasons, Sky Blue’s made the playoffs just once, in 2013, and then immediately crashed out of the postseason in a way that was neither particularly interesting or competitive. Mostly, at least in the NWSL era, there’s never really been a marquee player that’s called this place home, either. Christie Pearce has long been the team’s biggest name, but a quiet, steady central defender who rarely scores goals and is the antithesis of flashy doesn’t exactly make a for a star marketable to the casual masses. And as far as attendance goes, Sky Blue pretty regularly comes in with some of the league’s lowest numbers.

Mostly, they’re all just there — the team, the fans — quietly going about the business of a season, good or bad, in the shadow of the league’s bigger, flashier teams, so many New Yorks to Sky Blue’s definite New Jersey.

Perhaps the biggest, New York-iest if we’re going to continue this metaphor, of all the other teams is, obviously, Portland. The Thorns are filling Providence Park on the regular, both with fans in the stands and big names on the roster. And Portland’s also, historically, backed it up with results. In four seasons, the Thorns have made the playoffs three times, and won one NWSL shield and one championship. There’s a star above Portland’s crest, and it’s one earned in a league that still, you know, exists.

And maybe that’s why Sky Blue, this team that nobody comes to watch and that’s usually mediocre but also doesn’t get a ton of credit even when, like this season, they’re playing well, has pretty regularly matched up against Portland better than just about anyone else.

Even in the past, both in seasons where nothing’s going well and in ones where things are, Sky Blue’s always caused problems for the Thorns, some extra amount of pleasure derived from knocking off the shadow that’s usually looming so large over you. In 2013, the year the Thorns won the title, Portland was unbeaten in five coming into the first-ever meeting with Sky Blue. Sky Blue hadn’t had a bad start to that season, but Portland was basically running the show then. And then Sky Blue rolled into Providence Park, held the high-powered Thorns goalless, and picked up a 1-0 win. The season series that year finished 1-1-1.

The following season, Sky Blue beat the Thorns twice in Portland, and the two teams played to a draw in New Jersey. That year, 2014, Portland was again a playoff team. Sky Blue finished sixth.

The story is similar in 2015, with Sky Blue taking two of three games from the Thorns. The 2015 season was, of course, the worst in Thorns history and the only year the team didn’t make the playoffs, but Portland still finished sixth while Sky Blue landed in eighth.

Last season, the year Portland won the shield, is the only time the Thorns have taken a season series from Sky Blue, winning both times the two teams met.

Portland and Sky Blue met for the first time this season two weeks ago, the last game either team played before the FIFA break, and though the Thorns escaped New Jersey with all three points thanks to a 2-0 win, it was much closer than the score would lead you to believe. It was mostly thanks to a huge game from Adrianna Franch that Sky Blue didn’t earn at least a point.

This week, with the Thorns unbeaten at home, and looking to make right the loss two weeks ago, Sky Blue came into Providence Park with the same kind of chip on their shoulder stuff that they’ve carried into these games so many times before. Back in 2013, it took Sky Blue 80 minutes to break through. On Saturday, it took 25 seconds.

Raquel Rodriguez’ goal less than a minute into the game not only tied the record for the fastest goal in league history, it also set the tone for the rest of the game. Sarah Killion, who had a PK saved by Franch two weeks ago, this time sent one wide. Sam Kerr, who’s become of the league’s most exciting and dangerous strikers, and who had the assist on Rodriguez’ goal, scored twice by outrunning the Portland backline on pretty perfect balls over the top. Lindsey Horan, who scored both goals in the last game, had one called back for offside. Kailen Sheridan made a couple huge saves, including a diving stop and one through a ton of traffic to keep Portland scoreless. Franch, who was so good two weeks ago, looked uncertain and shaky. Kelley O’Hara put in a vintage Kelley O’Hara performance and got a yellow card after taking issue with how many times Hayley Raso rolled on the ground after an otherwise clean tackle. Christine Sinclair had a PK saved and then scored on the rebound in stoppage time, which made both her and Sheridan mad. The play-by-play man started calling yellow cards “mustard.” Sky Blue won 3-1, handing Portland its first regular season loss at home since July 9th of last year.

In total, before this season, Sky Blue, a team with one playoff appearance ever, was 5-4-2 all-time against Portland, a team that is, well, Portland. Now, they are 6-5-2.

All of this has added up to some kind of strange almost-rivalry. There aren’t many actual rivalries in the league beyond the obvious Seattle-Portland one and maybe also the Reign is still mad about Chicago ruining that perfect season back in ’14. Boston-Sky Blue’s never been a thing, because Boston (and Sky Blue) and Washington hasn't been anywhere near competitive enough this season to even come close to trying to avenge last year’s title game loss to the FlashCourage.

That’s not to say there haven't been good games this season, or crazy ones, or ones that were extra chippy, because through nine weeks we've seen all of that. But Saturday’s Portland-Sky Blue game felt somehow a little bigger, like both teams were playing for something beyond just a Saturday night game in the middle of June. Saturday’s game had a little bit of everything: big goals and big saves, penalties missed and made, controversial offside calls, yellow cards. It was chippy, fast, competitive, and just really fun to watch.

Scores

Saturday

Chicago Red Stars 1 - 1 Washington Spirit

North Carolina Courage 3 - 1 Boston Breakers

FC Kansas City 2 - 2 Seattle Reign FC

Houston Dash 2 - 4 Orlando Pride

Portland Thorns FC 1 - 3 Sky Blue FC

Highlights of all games can be found at NWSL’s website.