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mcatra · 4 years ago

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AU where Catra works at burger king

Catra works minimum wage at burger king, Adora comes in every day as the world’s worst customer.

AO3

‘I am being HARASSED.’ Catra groans, sprawling on her side of the register. ‘I’m begging you, just kill me.’

It was another slow afternoon at Burger King, or as she likes to call it the absolute shithole she only got minimum wage for. Catra could be out there living her life as a youthful teenager, instead she was serving chicken nuggets to her worst enemy- Adora. It didn’t help that said blonde was currently sitting in the corner, laughing obnoxiously with her friends she had replaced her with.

‘Aw I’m sure Adora isn’t here to harass you, she probably just likes our food! I do cook these to perfection you know.’ Scorpia says conversationally from her spot in the kitchen as she flame broils another patty.

Catra scoffs, her eyes trained on her most hated customer.

‘There has to be some sort of law against coming to one’s workplace every day! No one likes Burger King that much! NOBODY!’

Suddenly she sees Adora sit up from her chair, that makes a horrific screeching noise on their unmopped floor.

‘Oh god she’s coming.’ Catra whispers, trying to duck into the kitchen. ‘Scorpia! Hide me!’

Her friend shoves her back to the counter, as Adora approaches. ‘You’re the only one on this shift who is allowed to use the register-’

‘Do not make me serve her I swear to god-’

‘Hi Catra.’ Adora smiles, and Catra’s eyes narrow.

‘Whatchu want, princess?’ She sneers, avoiding her piercing blue eyes that reminded her of still lakes. Or swirling oceans. Or the fluffy white cloud bath bombs from Lush. Wait, no.

‘Mmm, can I get a strawberry sundae?’ Adora chirps, looking above her at the menu.

‘Can’t.’ Catra drawls, looking at her black painted nails. ‘The machine’s broken.’

Adora’s face falls in disappointment, and Catra cheers inwardly at her small victory until Scorpia’s voice cuts through their conversation.

‘That’s not true, the soft serve machine is fine.’ Her traitor friend says, pulling down on the lever and swirling a perfect sundae into the cup. She adds the syrup before handing it to Adora.

‘That’ll be $1.50.’

‘Thanks Scorpia.’ Adora smiles, rummaging through her purse to collect her coins.

Catra rolls her eyes.

‘What a cheap ass. Little rich girl can only afford a dollar-fifty ice cream? No wonder we’re running out of business.’

Adora frowns at this. ‘Did you want a tip or something?’

‘What? FUCK no. I don’t take charity.’ Catra scoffs, snatching the coins from her old childhood-friend-to-enemies palm. She swiftly jabs in the total and throws the coins into the drawer. They’re forced into silence as the receipt slowly prints, and she tries to ignore the way Adora is staring at her.

Suddenly Adora leans in close, and she can hear her murmur close to her ear.

‘I’ll see you at student council.’

Catra flushes at the proximity, every hair standing on end. Before she can stutter out an insult, Adora rips the receipt from the machine and is sauntering back to Bow and Glimmer.

The brown haired girl deflates, her nails scratching on the old countertop. All that mental damage, for $1.50? Life was not fair.

Adora always had the perfect grades, the perfect family and friends, the most cushy and royal upbringing. After their falling out involving a scholarship to a private school, they hadn’t spoken until the merger.

It filled Catra with sick pleasure that the private school had lost their prestige to embezzled money, and now had to be government funded. However in consequence of this, they had decided to merge the public and private school so they could sell off the land to build skyrises or something.

This meant Catra lost her position of School Captain to Adora after a fierce election, and had been demoted to Vice Captain. Not to mention no matter how hard Catra tried, she could never beat her in the school rankings. She couldn’t work to support herself and study 6 hours a day, like rich privileged Adora.

So now here she was, forced to interact with the one person she could’ve gone her whole life without seeing on a daily basis.

Ever since Adora had discovered Catra had been working at Burger King during a late night drive-thru run, her ex best friend had made it her life’s mission to make her life hell.

Of course she had done her best to make the experience awful to drive her away. Catra knew Adora hated pickles, so she would threaten Kyle to slice up an entire pickle’s worth in the blonde’s Whopper before giving it to her with a sweet smile. She is filled with glee watching Adora picking them out one by one in disgust.

This doesn’t stop Adora from coming though. Not even when they had made it into some sort of competition to see how many pickles could physically be crammed into a bun. Or even when she had put every single condiment including the salt and pepper into an unholy liquid concoction and served it in a cola cup. Not even when she gave Adora food poisoning when they got too carried away trying to stack as many patties as they could to recreate Sky Burger.

No matter what she did, the girl never went away. Even though she had so easily disappeared from her life when she had needed her the most. But she didn’t need Adora, she had gotten this job herself, she had gotten a roof over her head with her own power. She had worked so hard to become independent from Shadow Weaver, and no matter what, Adora will not jeopardize it.

‘I’m doing, what exactly?’

Catra stares dumbly at her manager, a sinking feeling dawning on her.

‘Adora ordered a birthday party at Burger King.’ Lonnie drawls, ignoring the look of complete horror on Catra’s face.

‘No, you can’t do this to me! Roster me for any other day. I cannot psychologically take this.’ She begs.

‘Sorry dude, the deposit has already been paid for. We’re short staffed, and it seems like Kyle has gotten fryer oil burns from your last burger experiment with Adora.’ Lonnie whaps Catra with the birthday catering pamphlet.

‘Stupid Kyle.’ Catra hisses, clenching it in her fist. Curse this damn place that can only afford to hire teenagers.

‘Anyway, just set up the tables and decorations after school on Thursday. Should be a good day for business, with Adora and her posse being rich kids and all.’

‘Can I at least get time and a half?’

‘Are you gonna be paying Kyle’s medical bill?’

Catra pouts. ‘Not my fault you guys don’t provide gloves. This place is an OSHA violation haven.’

WE do the PLANNING, YOU have the FUN! The bold font emblazoned over the small child’s smiling face mocks her from the pamphlet. Catra clenches it in her fist.

‘Also why the fuck did she book a kid’s birthday party package when she is like 17, and not 6 years old?!’

Lonnie rolls her eyes. ‘Do you still want a job or not? Just read the rest of the form, counting on you to organize it.’

Catra squints at the crumpled paper in her hand.

GOLD PARTY PACKAGE

-Themed birthday cards!

-Party bags!

-Birthday gift for the celebrant!

-Jumbo birthday cake!

-Pinata!

-Special birthday songs!

-Dedicated hostess!

Catra can feel her soul physically leave her body. This was gonna be a long week.

It was terrible.

Adora had handed these obnoxious Burger King birthday invitations to all her friends, so now she had all these RSVP’s to the worst birthday of all of human history. In between working shifts until midnight, dealing with Adora at student council and not eating, Catra was on edge.

‘No, you can not write ‘Die Adora Die’ on her cake.’ Scorpia chides, slapping Catra’s hands away to pipe the icing.

‘It’s what she deserves.’ Catra seethes. If she couldn’t eat it, she could at least ruin it, right?

‘They’ll be here soon, so try to take that dying grimace off your face.’ Scorpia replies, and Catra rolls her eyes before adding the finishing touches to the cake.

Suddenly the door opens, interrupting her decorating. The once quiet establishment was now full of loud chatter as their classmates piled in one by one. All of Adora’s old private school friends were here, all unironically celebrating their school captain’s children’s birthday party at the worst fast food restaurant in their state.

She plasters her fakest customer service smile she can muster. Dignity at the door.

‘Hi, you must be here for the Birthday Girl’s party.’ Catra says, approaching the group. Just treat it like you don’t know them.

‘Aw you don’t have to be so formal with us, Vice Captain.’ Glimmer teases, and Catra almost snaps from her facade. Almost.

‘Let me show you to your table.’ Catra grits out.

She had chosen the ugliest poop brown balloons she could find, and had deliberately made the HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner lopsided on the wall.

‘Thanks Catra!’ Adora grins, bouncing past her to admire the decorations.

Catra imagines Adora’s face on the pinata and smashing it into a million pieces. She forces herself to take a deep breath. It was just the one shift, and she really needed this job. Plus after the party was over, she could probably nab some leftovers for her trouble.

All of the girls (plus Bow and Seahawk) sit around the table, and Catra marches over with the laminated menus.

‘Ooh, we all get hats!’ Perfuma says, placing her Burger King cardboard crown on top of her head.

Frosta squints at the menu. ‘I’ve never eaten fast food before. Looks disgusting.’

‘I think it’s fine! Adora wanted to eat here.’ Glimmer says in a sugarly sweet tone that just came off as passive aggressive. ‘Even though I had suggested my penthouse by the ocean and we go here nearly every day.’

‘I much rather would be at the ocean beach house thank you very much.’ Mermista retorts, swatting Sea Hawk off her shoulder.

Yeah me too, Catra thinks bitterly. She stomps off with their orders, cursing them inwardly the entire way to the kitchen.

Adora’s friends start playing with the so-called ‘entertainment’ they had haphazardly set up.

It was ridiculous, seeing grown teenagers lining up to try to smack the shit out of a glittery pinata. They squabble over who gets to hit it first, Catra feeling very much like a glorified babysitter to her most hated enemies.

After a while, she sees Scorpia emerge from the kitchen. ‘Happy Birthday to you,’ Scorpia sings with Adora’s birthday cake in her arms. ‘Happy Birthday to you~’

The others join in on the song, Catra only mouthing the words in silent rebellion. The cake is emblazoned with a crude doodle of Adora’s face with HAPPY BIRTHDAY written on her enormous forehead.

‘Oh my gosh, I love it!’ Adora’s sky blue eyes light up, and she’s practically sparkling. Catra huffs, she wasn’t supposed to like it. Didn’t she see the drawing was supposed to make fun of her five-head?

Adora catches Catra’s eye, beaming. ‘Did you draw this for me?’

‘She did!’ Scorpia tattles, and her enemy’s smile increased tenfold. Catra can feel her cheeks grow warm. Dammit.

‘Whatever.’ Catra bites out, unable to meet her gaze.

Luckily no one else seemed to be paying attention to the weird atmosphere between them, as they were split between eyeing the cake and pinata wrestling.

‘Get over here Sea Hawk, we can do the pinata later!’ Mermista chastises, watching Bow spin her blindfolded boyfriend.

‘Let me just get one good hit in, and I’ll join you!’ He crows, swinging the bat in random directions as Bow ducks the blows, laughing.

Just for anything to do, Catra takes it upon herself as hostess to snatch up the knife and start cutting. She cuts into the cake to start portioning out the slices, but as the knife touches the bottom Glimmer lets out a shriek.

‘What?’ Catra deadpans.

‘If you cut to the bottom of the cake, you have to kiss the person closest to you!’ Glimmer says, a demonic look in her eye. Adora elbows her, embarrassed.

‘Excuse me?’ Catra’s never heard of this tradition. Though to be fair, she had not been to many parties in her lifetime.

‘Oh, that’s right!’ Perfuma claps her hands together. ‘Adora’s closest right? Go ahead Catra!’

To her horror, Glimmer starts pushing Catra towards the blonde. She digs her heels into the linoleum, only to find that she was sliding from the newly mopped floors.

‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ The girls start chanting, like they were her friends and that she wasn’t their damn server.

‘What the hell- fuck no, let go of me!’ Catra finally snaps, wrenching herself from Glimmer’s grip.

The momentum sends her stumbling into Sea Hawk, who was still attempting to hit the pinata.

‘Ack!’ He squawks.

The bat goes flying straight out his hand and into their double doors. There’s a huge crash, and everybody winces at the noise.

The glass pane shatters, and so does Catra’s sanity. She was so fired.

Sea Hawk lifts the blindfold.

‘Did I get it?’

---

It was nearly closing time, and Catra was still sweeping up bits of glass from the floor. This had been one of the worst days of her life, and she had been beaten and homeless before. To make it worse, Adora was still grovelling when she should’ve gone hours ago like the rest of them.

‘I am so sorry Catra, I’ll pay for everything, I’ll take full responsibility so you don’t get fired-’

‘Stop it.’ She was too tired to even argue with Adora like she usually did, wishing Adora would just go away already so she could grovel over the phone to her regional manager without an audience. Catra always pretended to hate her job, but she couldn’t afford to lose it. She could barely make rent with her Burger King wage.

‘Please, let me help clean. It was my fault anyway.’

There was hardly any money left over to feed herself most days, that’s why she was skinny as a rake as opposed to the toned, buff, well fed Adora. She had only been functioning on a few nuggets that Scorpia snuck her yesterday. Did Catra still have those food coupons? How long until the bank charged overdraft fees?

‘Catra are you listening-’

‘I said stop it!’ Catra snaps.

Adora has the audacity to look stunned.

‘Why do you insist on harassing me at work everyday? Is it fun? Forcing me to play servant to you rich girls, to sing and dance for you? You already beat me in everything at school, you’re already School Captain, you have all the money and a loving family you need, so can you stop rubbing your privilege in my face just for one second so I can THINK?’

‘I...I just…I’m sorry.’ Adora starts and aborts a few sentences. Catra can’t even stand to look at her face.

‘This party at your work. It was the only way to get you to celebrate my birthday with me.’

‘.....’

‘Um, I-’

‘Whatever.’ Catra retorts, trying and failing to pick up the last shards with her too long fingernails. She hisses when the glass nicks her finger, cutting into skin. Drops of blood fall to the floor.

‘Are you okay?!’ Adora gasps, rushing to her side. Catra slaps her hand away, she needed to go find the cleaning supplies. Blood was a biohazard, there was some protocol for it but she was having trouble remembering.

She goes to stand up, but the fatigue rushes to her head and her legs give in underneath her. Instead of smacking her head against the floor, she feels herself land on something soft instead.

Adora hooks her around the waist, gently placing her into the booth. She grabs a napkin from the dispenser and wraps it around Catra’s hand. She can feel Adora’s warm hand squeezing her own.

‘I’m just applying pressure to the cut.’ Adora says quietly.

Catra just closes her eyes. It’s well past midnight and she should be locking up the store, but she can’t bring herself to move.

#she-ra #she ra #spop #catradora #catra #adora #burger king au

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ryuichirou · 4 years ago

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Sorry if this is personal but is it tough to be LGBT in Russia/ produce LGBT content in Russia (I mean it’s the internet but still)

Oh, this is an interesting topic… I’ll answer both of these questions and start with the content.

While being LGBT isn’t illegal per-se, there are a lot of limitations that LGBT people meet here. When it comes to creating content, for example, there is the Gay propaganda law. You might’ve heard about this one, it basically means “you can’t produce any content that portrays LGBT in any way, because it’ll make our children turn gay and we don’t want that”. But the thing is, the wording in this law is so… convenient for the State, they can basically call anything an illegal propaganda if they want to. Technically what we’re doing over here is illegal too. If they’d want to call it illegal, that is.

This is the reason people who publish works that have LGBT-related content in them may have issues in the process. There are ways to avoid them, but it is still very hard to officially publish something that has any “iffy” content. Sometimes putting a “18+” label on the book/movie/tv-series/etc helps, sometimes selling said piece of media only on the internet helps, but still: there is always a possibility that a publisher might not be able to produce the product they want. Censorship is a thing, bans are a thing, all of this exists, but you never know whether you’ll be hit by it or not. Please keep in mind that Russia is also an extremely corrupted country.

If you’re just a content creator and post your stuff on the internet only, it’s usually ok. Homophobes exist, but they tend to exist somewhere else, not near fandom places. There are tons of artists from Russia who draw explicit stuff (and a lot of these people are LGBT), a lot of them print their merch and sell it on the geek art markets, and even though there were cases where a printing house refused to print someone’s slash illustration, it’s usually ok. But.

But but but. You still can be targeted and sued for the most ridiculous stuff. For example, you can read about Yulia Tsvetkova’s case, who was arrested for her body positive series of drawings + a drawing in support of LGBT-families under the “distribution of pornography” and “gay-propaganda” laws respectively. There are tons of drawings like these on the internet, but Yulia was specifically targeted because she is an activist who wasn’t quiet about her support of women and LGBT. As you can see, the “gay propaganda” law is a very convenient way to shut people up.

Another example that comes to mind is two gay guys who got married in a country that allows you to get married when you’re not a citizen (I think they did it in Denmark), and they tried making their marriage legal in Russia too because it doesn’t really contradict any law. They fled the country because they started getting threats and their passports (along with their marriage) were deemed invalid. They were also charged with a fee for “damaging their passports”.

Now our wonderful government, which loves cheating during its elections to the point where you get 146% total when the max is 100%, made this wonderful terrible election for changing the constitution. Their changes are a joke (not really funny tho) and its own topic, but one of the changes was that marriage is “a union between a man and a woman”. Now it says that in the constitution.

TL;DR: If they want to get you, they’ll find a way to get you. But if you’re just a rando who posts slashy smut on your twitter, they don’t care, at least not yet. They will use it against you if you start annoying the police. There are a lot of homophobes but the fandom spaces are usually relatively peaceful.

Personally, we’re lucky enough not to face any severe problems yet. We’re careful irl (people usually think we’re related lol) and only some of our friends know about us. We don’t show any affection to each other publicly. On the internet we’re surrounded by people who are friendly, and once again, people from the fandom spaces are usually more progressive than a regular Russian Pyotr or Oleg.

I, being an idiot that I am, used to draw tons of slash (nsfw too!) at classes right in front of my teachers while I was at the uni. And even though it definitely wasn’t very wise of me, no one ever approached me with “umm are those gays, are you gay too” question. The only ones that were interested by my drawings were two straight girls who read slash fanfiction. Maybe the rest of those who noticed were too shy :(

Katsu: I was always an idiot who likes to flex things as a teenager, so when Ryu and I started dating, I mentioned it in my school to some of my classmates. I’m pretty sure it started some nasty rumors, one guy was openly disgusted, but other than that, I haven’t heard anything from them and they never told teachers or parents, which could be consequences that I never considered. The only thing he said was “Are you a lesbian?” which wasn’t really offensive even though I’m not really a lesbian, but I was like... was that supposed to be an offensive word? Because it wasn’t. Right now I realise that I was lucky not to get beaten up lol I’m from a small city (not a town) and not the best district, but I guess nobody cared that much about this info even if they heard about it, plus people were/are usually afraid of me, so not even the worst boys who were obviously stronger (like that disgusted guy) touched me. I only mention it because I know for a fact that some of the people (like 2-3) were usually openly aggressive, it’s not like the worst class you can get in Russia where the only solution is to fucking suffer.

At the uni, I heard our group discussing lesbians, since students there were mostly girls by another disgusted individual, and I actually wanted to say to her something with a “Come at me bro” attitude (I tend to do that when I’m pissed off), but I just decided not to intervene, probably because these were the first couple of days in my first year. I still told one guy like a month later, he was rather cool with it. Anyway, as Ryu mentioned, there are places and people where you can mention it and get away with it, and where you better keep your mouth shut. Most of the country is the second option, but there’re for a fact a lot of nice and accepting people even out of the fandom. We don’t talk about our relationship for the most part because we don’t really need to, so here’s that. Sorry for being so talkative lol

#replies

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insanityclause · 4 years ago

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I've only just been introduced to Zawe Ashton and she turns to me and whispers, "Let's make a run for it!" The actress has been holed up in her publicist's office for the past few hours. Her minders are just out of earshot. "I need some natural light," she says as we scarper out the front door and head down a Soho street to a cafe. "I'm going to get into so much trouble," she laughs.

Ashton is very much a woman on the move. And she likes to do her own thing. We might know her best for her portrayal of the wannabe punk Vod in Channel 4's student-life sitcom Fresh Meat but there is far more to her than acting. She also directs, produces, and writes. Over the past decade she's been energetic in theatre and film, and soon she's going to be published. There's just no holding her back, and here she is again, coffee ordered, keeping one step ahead.

She is down from Manchester, where she's been filming the fourth – and final – series of Fresh Meat. Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong's brilliant creation has helped turn Ashton into one of television's most striking new actresses, but now she is moving on. A new Channel 4 comedy drama – Not Safe for Work, which begins at the end of the month – is going to show Ashton in a very different light.

Following the chaotic personal and professional lives of a group of dysfunctional government employees who have been forced to relocate from London to Northampton, Not Safe for Work sees Ashton playing Katherine, a recently divorced woman coming to terms with her displacement from the capital and having to live in a flatshare at an age when she thought she'd be having babies.

At first the show might seem like a big departure from Fresh Meat; Ashton is playing a proper grown-up, who wears a suit and actually washes. It's a role in which she speaks in her natural voice, too; still low but not as deep as Vod's. But look closer and it's evident that many of the issues facing Katherine and her co-workers are not that far removed from those affecting Vod and her fellow students at the fictional Manchester Medlock University; all are just trying to find their place in a world where things seem less certain than they used to. They're part of a new lost generation immediately recognisable to Ashton.

"My first impressions of Katherine were how on-the-money her struggles are in terms of a lot of people I know," she says. "That postgraduate-in-the-age of-austerity sort of thing. I know people who are moving back home, who can't afford to live in London any more, have long-term relationships breaking down, and are suddenly single in the age of the internet and wondering if they can still meet anyone at work. It felt really well observed."

Ashton has just managed to buy her own place, describing herself as "very, very, very lucky" when so many people her age (she is 30) and older are in no position to. "Living with the notion that you might never have a permanent spot in the world is really quite a powerful metaphor," she says. "I feel it really looms large and it becomes a symbol of lots of other things." Whether it's your career, your relationship, or your home, for people of a certain age, Ashton suggests, nothing seems permanent any more. "There used to be this lovely kind of linear flow."

Not Safe for Work was created and written by DC Moore, a former star of Channel 4's new-talent strand Coming Up, who, like Ashton, attended the Royal Court Theatre's prestigious Young Writers' Programme. A superb cast also includes Sacha Dhawan as Katherine's coked-up boss, and Sophie Rundle as The Most Irritating Girl In The Office. Ashton is not wrong about the show capturing the cultural zeitgeist.

Public-sector cuts are the reason for Katherine's relocation to Northampton so there are implicit politics in Not Safe for Work, but that's not an area Ashton wants to get into. She won't tell me how she voted in the recent election – she offers a firm but jovial "No comment" – but on cuts to the arts she is as forthright as you would expect from someone who, as a child, paid £2.50 to attend weekend drama classes at the Anna Scher theatre, a community-based drama school in Islington, which in its time has also welcomed Kathy Burke and Dexter Fletcher through its doors. Later she joined the National Youth Theatre, itself a registered charity, and she worries about how the next generation will be able to develop if such inclusive facilities disappear. "For students who are attempting to have their life be about something that isn't vocation based, it's harder to just explore your depths," she suggests.

Ashton's family were always supportive of her decision to work in the arts. The oldest of three children, she grew up in Hackney. Her mother, Victoria, had emigrated from Uganda as a teenager and became a teacher in London. Her English father, Paul, also worked as a teacher before moving to educational programming at Channel 4. The considerable amount of time she spends with them is, she admits, "embarrassing". Her newly purchased home is close enough that she can call by whenever she wants.

It was Victoria, in particular, who encouraged young Zawe – pronounced Zow-ee – to try out acting, and she bagged her first role when she was eight, as an extra crossing the road in the Channel 4 sitcom Desmond's, which happened to be Ashton's favourite show at the time. She went on to win parts in children's television programmes that included The Demon Headmaster before graduating to, among other things, Holby City and Casualty. She made her big-screen debut in St Trinian's II: The Legend of Fritton's Gold. Prior to Vod, perhaps her finest moment was in Dreams of a Life, a documentary about Joyce Vincent, a 38-year-old woman whose decomposing body had lain in a north London bedsit undiscovered for three years before it was found in 2006 by council workers. Ashton played Ms Vincent in the recreation scenes, her performance winning her a nomination in the Most Promising Newcomer category at the 2012 British Independent Film Awards.

Later that year she also won the award for Best Breakthrough On-Screen Talent at the Creative Diversity Network for her work in Fresh Meat. With Vod, just as it is with Katherine, the fact that Ashton is mixed race is never made out to be an issue that needs to be addressed in storylines. It simply isn't mentioned. Anyone of any ethnicity could have played these characters. Was that a sense that she had strived to achieve? "I'm glad it seems effortless," she says. "It's something that I've worked really hard at. I think I've always felt that I want to do a very specific type of work and I've made informed decisions. You know, hopefully be part of a quiet movement or revolution." She pauses to giggle. "Without sounding too Che Guevara about it."

She says that as a child she would hand back scripts to her mother and tell her that she didn't like how certain characters were represented. At the same time, she doesn't want her background to be ignored. "I don't want to be 'de-ethnicised'. I hate it when people say, 'Oh I don't even think of you as a woman', or, 'I don't even think of you as a black woman.' Well what do you think of me as then? A loaf of bread? But any actor of any race can tell if a part is well written or not. It's really just about reading stuff that feels well-observed and truthful."

I spoke to DC Moore, Not Safe for Work's creator, about Ashton as both writer and performer. "She really responds to scripts," he said. "There was the odd moment when she sniffed out something that didn't feel right. There's always a difference in someone who performs if they also write. It really informs the conversation. And similarly if you're a writer who has done a bit of acting. It helps to understand the processes."

In the past Ashton has directed two short films and written plays. She has just delivered another, For All Those Women Who Thought They Were Mad, to the National Theatre. She wrote it six years ago for the Royal Court and it was shortlisted for the Young Writers' Festival but nothing ever came of it. It has now been updated and she hopes it will finally make it to the stage.

Then there's the feature film that she is writing and will direct, details of which she says she can't tell me. You get the impression that in the current climate, Ashton is keen to create her own circumstances and opportunities. As with so many of her peers, she pursues numerous outlets because who knows when one might be taken away? Moore says he understands that urge. "It broadens your scope to take on so many things, but it also means you've got other ways of playing what is essentially a big game. It's a wise move."

And there's yet more coming from Ashton. One of the things she is most excited about is the book deal she recently secured. "How can I describe it?" she says. "You know these books of essays by female voices that are very in vogue ? Well it's not that!" She laughs. "It's a mixture of fact and fiction and kind of based on some of the awful character breakdowns that you sometimes receive as an actress – that are really two-dimensional."

Acting, screenplays, directing, books. I can't help but marvel at how prolific she is. "It's quite funny because it's so much more natural in the States to do so many things and, having spent a bit more time there, you just fit right in if you do many, many things. I'm just coming to terms with the fact that I will always do lots of different things and I can't really stay in one place too long."

Our time is over. Ashton politely excuses herself to return to the office and, presumably, call off the search party. Through the window I see her rushing up the street. Will she find her permanent spot in the world? Who knows. Maybe she'll never need to.

#Zawe Ashton #career #Character Breakdown #for all the women who thought they were mad #interview #2015

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akathecentimetre · 5 years ago

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Hey there, so I really like history as a subject, and I'm pretty good at it. The thing is, I don't know what my career options would be if I studied it, or if I would be able to make money. My parents are heavily discouraging me from taking it as a major. As a 'historian' in training' what's your take? Thank you

Hi there! Sorry for the delay, ‘tis the hectic season…

Oh man, I have so many thoughts for you. Full disclosure: this is something I have worked on a LOT over the course of my graduate career both at my uni and on a national level; most of my advice, however, comes from a PhD candidate’s perspective and may not be directly helpful to an undergraduate, and I should also emphasize that everything I can say on this is very firmly based on the U.S. market only. That being said, a lot of what I can say can be universally applied, so here we go -

The number of history undergraduates in the U.S. has plummeted in the last decade or so, from it previously being one of the most popular majors. There are many interacting reasons for this: a changeover from older to younger, better-trained, energetic professors who draw in and retain students has been very slow to occur, partly because of a lack of a mandatory retirement age; the humanities have been systematically demonized and minimized in favor of the development of STEM subjects, to the occasional benefit of students of color and women but to the detriment of critical public discourse and historical perspective on current events; with many liberal arts colleges going under financially and the enormous expansion of academic bureaucracy everywhere, resources are definitely being diverted away from social and human studies towards fields which are perceived to pay better or perceived, as mentioned in the article above, as being more ‘practical.’ (We do need a ton more healthcare workers/specialists, but that’s a different conversation to have.) But now I feel like quoting a certain Jedi Master: everything your parents say is wrong. Let’s dive into why being a historian is a positive thing for you both as a person and as a professional -

You will be a good reader. As you learn to decipher documents and efficiently and thoroughly read secondary literature, you will develop a particular talent for understanding what is important about any piece of writing or evidence (and this can go for visual and aural evidence as well). This will serve you well in any position in which you are collecting/collating information and reporting to colleagues or superiors, and evaluating the worth of resources. Specific example - editorial staff at publishing houses either private or academic, magazines, etc.

You will be a good writer. This will get you a good job at tons of places; don’t underestimate it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been astonished (not in a punitive way, of course, but definitely with a sense of befuddlement) by how badly some of my Ivy-league students can write. Good writing is hard, good writing is rare, and good writing is a breath of fresh air to any employer who puts a high premium upon it in their staff. History in principle is the study of change; history in practice is presenting information in a logical, interesting, and persuasive manner. Any sort of institution which asks you to write reports, summaries, copy, etc. etc. will appreciate your skills.

You will be a good researcher. This sounds like a given, but it’s an underappreciated and vital skill. Historians work as consultants. Historians work in government - almost every department has an Office of the Historian - and in companies, writing company histories and maintaining institutional archives. A strong research profile will also serve you well if you want to go on to work in museum studies and in libraries public or private/academic. As a historian, you will know not just where to find information, but what questions you have to ask to get to the answer of how to tackle, deconstruct, and solve a problem. This is relevant to almost any career path.

You will provide perspective. Historians react to current events in newspapers and online - not just on politics, but culture as well (my favorite article of this week is about the historicity of The Aeronauts). Historians act as expert witnesses in court proceedings. Historians write books, good books, not just meant for academic audiences but for millions upon millions of readers who need thoughtful, intelligent respite from the present. Historians work for thinktanks, providing policy analysis and development (a colleague of mine is an expert on current events of war in Mali and works for multiple thinktanks and organizations because of it). Historians work for nonprofits or lobbying groups on issues of poverty, environmental safety, climate change, and minority and indigenous rights. In a world when Texas school textbooks push the states’ rights narrative, historians remind us that the Civil War was about slavery. Historians remind us that women and people of color have always existed. In this time and world where STEM subjects are (supposedly) flooding the job market, we need careful historical perspective more than ever. We need useful reactions to the 2016 election, to the immigration travesties on display at the southern border, to the strengthening of right-wing parties in Europe - and history classes, or thoughtfully historical classes on philosophy and political science, are one of the few places STEM and business students gain the basic ability to participate in those conversations. [One of my brightest and most wonderful students from last year, just to provide an anecdote, is an astrophysics major who complained to me in a friendly conversation this semester that she never got the chance to talk about ‘deep’ things anymore once she had passed through our uni’s centralized general curriculum, which has a heavy focus on humanities subjects.]

You will be an educator. Teaching is a profession which has myriad challenges in and of itself, but in my experience of working with educators there is a desperate need for secondary-school teachers in particular to have actual content training in history as opposed to simply being pushed into classrooms with degrees which focus only on pedagogical technique. If teaching is a vocation you are actually interested in, getting a history degree is not a bad place to start at all. And elementary/high schools aside, you will be teaching someone something in every interaction you have concerning your subject of choice. Social media is a really important venue now for historians to get their work out into the world and correct misconceptions in the public sphere, and is a place where you can hone a public and instructive voice. You could also be involved in educational policy, assessment/test development (my husband’s field, with a PhD in History from NYU), or educational activism.

If some of this sounds kind of woolly and abstract, that’s because it is. Putting yourself out there on the job market is literally a marketing game, and it can feel really silly to take your experience of 'Two years of being a Teaching Assistant for European History 1500-1750’ and mutate it to 'Facilitated group discussions, evaluated written work from students [clients], and ran content training sessions on complex subjects.’ But this sort of translation is just another skill - one that can be learned, improved, and manipulated to whatever situation you need it to fit.

Will you make money? That’s a question only you can answer, because only you know what you think is enough money. That being said, many of the types of careers I’ve mentioned already are not low-paying; in my experience expertise is, if you find the right workplace and the rewarding path, usually pretty well-remunerated.

Specific advice? Hone your craft. Curate an active public presence as a historian, an expert, a patient teacher, and as as person enthusiastic about your subject. Read everything and anything. Acknowledge and insist upon complexity, and celebrate it when you can.

And finally - will any of what I’ve said here make it easy? No, because no job search and no university experience is easy these days. It’s a crazy world and there are a lot of awful companies, bosses, and projects out there. But I do very firmly believe that you can find something, somewhere, that will suit your skills, and, hopefully, your passions too.

Resources for you: the American Historical Association has a breakdown of their skills-based approach to the job market, reports on the job market(s) for history PhDs collectively called ‘Where Historians Work,’ and a mentorship program, Career Contacts, which could connect you with professional historians in various workplaces. There is a very active community of historians on Twitter; search for #twitterstorians. For historians who identify as female, Women Also Know History is a newer site which collates #herstorian bios and publications to make it easier for journalists to contact them for expert opinions. ImaginePhD provides career development tools and exercises for graduate students, but could probably be applied to undergrads as well. The Gilder Lehrman Institute is one of the premier nonprofits which develops and promotes historical training for secondary school teachers and classroom resources (U.S. history only). Job listings are available via the AHA, the National Council on Public History, and the IHE, as well as the usual job sites. And there’s an awful lot more out there, of course - anyone who reads or reblogs this post is welcome to add field-specific or resource-specific info.

I hope this helps, Anon, or at least provides you with a way to argue in favor of it to your parents if it comes to that. Chin up!

#replies #anon #history #academia #education #career diversity #grad school #Caz rambles

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cryingcow · 4 years ago

Text

Sera, Jingu, & Kazama - The Tojo Clan Secret [RGGO] - Ch. 4-5

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 .

A bit late because of emergency schoolwork, but here we go!

Previously: Jingu asked Sera if he is “ride or die” with him, which Sera answers with an enthusiastic yes (a declaration that he probably really regrets 17 years later). He then probably knocks on every Chinese restaurant in Yokohama, chases a boat with a helicopter, and wakes Lau Ka Long from his beauty sleep.

Warnings: Major Yakuza Kiwami/1 spoilers coming up. Also some super minor Y3 spoilers, where Kazama may or may not be vaguely referring to Joji

CHAPTER 4

[Tokyo Bay – Snake Flower Triad ship]

Sera: “If it isn’t Lau Ka Long . . . General of the Snake Flower Triad’s Japanese Branch.”

Lau: “Are you a regular yakuza? You seem to have quite the organizational strength.”

Sera: “Well, you’re close.”

Lau: “That’s right, that face . . . I remember now. The Tojo Clan’s Third Chairman.”

Sera: “I’m taking back the 10 billion.”

Lau: “Fu . . . I don’t appreciate you getting the drop on my men.”

Sera: “That’s on you. The one at the top should be the one who makes the best tactical decisions.”

Lau: “Wrong . . . The one at the top should be the strongest.”

Sera: “I can be that too. Don’t let your guard down.”

{Boss fight against Lau Ka Long happens. Sera defeats him.}

Sera: “It’s unlikely you could ever win against the entire Nikkyo Consortium.”

Lau: “Fu . . . you are a bad opponent.”

Sera: “I’d say the ones at the top are the ones with an edge. Unlike you, distracted by the game.”

{A Snake Flower member bloodied and bruised runs in.}

Snake Flower member: “Boss! It’s in their ship! They took the 10 billion!”

Lau: “What’s that?!”

Sera: “Thank you for buying us time by fighting with me. See you.”

Lau: “Tch! I’ll never forget this!”

----

|Next day.|

[Tojo HQ - Meeting Room]

Jingu: “Sera! You did well!”

Sera: “So . . . is that 10 billion to be managed by the Tojo?”

Jingu: “Oh, of course! If you manage the money, then I wouldn’t have a hand in it.”

Sera: “That’s true . . . but it’s still 10 billion. It’ll take some time to clean it.”

Jingu: “I don’t mind. It gives me time to deal with the police executives.”

----

|After that, Sera undertook the dirty work of Jingu, while Jingu secretly backed Sera.|

|A few years pass . . .| (It doesn’t say the year, but presumably it’s 1995/1996 now)

[Tojo HQ - Meeting Room]

Jingu: “. . . Sera. Thank you once again for your help.”

Sera: “As always. Come straight to me whenever you are in trouble.”

?: “Sera? Are you here talking with Jingu?”

{Kazama comes in with Yumi following right behind him.}

Sera: “Kazama-san. And also Yumi . . .”

Jingu: “Hello Kazama-san. Yumi-san.”

Yumi: “Jingu-san . . . “

Kazama: “Jingu. Don’t drag Sera into too much trouble. You may be an old friend, but he’s the Third Chairman.”

Jingu: “I already . . . I know that very well. By the way, Kazama-san, I actually promised Yumi-san I would drive her around today. I would like to ask permission from you as her guardian . . .”

Kazama: “What? Is that why you wanted to come to Tojo Headquarters with me?”

Yumi: “. . . yes. I’ll be out until dark.”

Kazama: “. . . is that so. Alright.”

Jingu: “Well then . . . let’s go, Yumi-san.”

{Jingu and Yumi leave.}

Sera: “Jingu seems to be getting along with Yumi lately.”

Kazama: “That seems to be the case . . . Yumi has changed a lot. I’ve been busy since she lost her memories about Dojima-san a few months ago.”

Sera: “Kazama-san, Yumi still hasn’t remembered?”

Kazama: “Her memory is still gone. She can’t remember anything about the incident . . . or Kiryu. She just needs time. By the way, what kind of man is that Jingu?”

Sera: “He is a man burning with ideals. He doesn’t shy away from power and he sticks to his aspirations. . . . he has many enemies because of that. In order for him to realize his dreams in the front world, I want to help him from the shadows.”

Kazama: “If that’s what you buy . . . then I guess I can’t say any more on the matter. But Sera, I’m worried about you, too.”

Sera: “Why’s that?”

Kazama: “Because a relationship between a government official and a yakuza always ends in tragedy.”

Sera: “Don’t worry. We’ve been inseparable since we were students.”

Kazama: “Is that so . . . in that case, good.”

Sera: (We worked together to crush the police’s scheme with that 10 billion. There is nothing to worry about . . . )

-END-

CHAPTER 5

[Tea Room]

Sera: “. . . Jingu. What do you need help with this time?”

Jingu: “It’s a little troublesome.”

Sera: “Heh. It’s always been, so far.”

Jingu: “No, it’s a lot more so this time. I’m being shaken down by a civilian.”

Sera: “A civilian? Jingu, what did you do?”

Jingu: “A few years back, I faced a tough opposition. In a head-on battle, I didn’t gain much traction. The people I met at the time . . . I made a request . . . for them to obstruct the elections . . .”

Sera: “Election obstruction? You’d do that . . . ?”

Jingu: “I had no choice . . . There was no other way.”

Sera: “Who are you in trouble with?”

Jingu: “The owner of a building company. A former yakuza, though not associated with the Tojo Clan. He has a memo with my orders and is threatening me with it. They were rough guys; the election obstruction was done more than necessary . . . some people got seriously injured.”

Sera: “Assault on top of election obstruction?”

Jingu: “Sera! It’ll be bad if the public finds that out! My image would definitely be tarnished!! I’ve already solidified my position in parliament. The secretary-general has been hinting at it . . . “

Sera: “. . . what would you have me do?”

Jingu: “I want you to get back that memo. And I want you to take care of the man, make sure he never makes trouble again.”

Sera: “ ‘Take care’ . . . no way, are you asking me to kill him?”

Jingu: “N-no. If you can hurt him and threaten him into not doing it again, that’s fine. . . . but if he won’t listen . . .”

Sera: “. . . alright. Let’s do this.”

Jingu: “I’m sorry for pressing such a thing . . . !”

Sera: “I’ve dirtied my hands with far worse back in the day. But . . .”

Jingu: “What?”

Sera: (Kazama-san’s warning . . . a tragedy is created by establishing a connection between the government and the yakuza . . . I believe in Jingu. That feeling hasn’t changed. But . . .)

Sera: “Jingu. What about you and Yumi?”

Jingu: “What? That came out of nowhere.”

Sera: “You two are dating, right?”

Jingu: “. . . ah. Well, that’s correct. However, I’m thinking of breaking up with her. She’s all alone. I don’t think she has anyone she’s close to, and no relatives.”

Sera: “. . . ? What’s wrong with that?”

Jingu: “Sera. For politicians, engagement is a political strategy. Yumi has no relatives, and thus no connections. Kazama-san, who can be said to be her only family, is a yakuza. It’s a juicy story for those who want to burn me. I think he’s a good person. But . . . this could be a stumbling block to the realization of my aspirations.”

Sera: “Your girlfriend Yumi is Kazama-san’s family. Don’t play her.”

Jingu: “I know. I will break it off in good faith.”

----

[Builder’s Office]

{Sera and his men storm in, fight with the builder Imaeda and his lackeys, and defeat them. Imaeda is tied up and interrogated.}

Sera’s subordinate: “Didn’t you hear me? That memo. Take it out.”

Sera: “Answer the question. Where is the memo?”

Imaeda: “. . . I don’t know what you’re talking about . . .”

Sera: “He won’t talk. Torture him.”

Sera’s subordinate: “Understood.”

{Sera’s subordinate beats up the builder.}

Imaeda: “I’m used to . . . bastards like you . . .”

{Imaeda passes out.}

Sera’s subordinate: “Chairman, he’s completely out. He won’t wake up for a while.”

Sera: “Look around for a memo in the room. Then tie him up and put him in the trunk of the car.”

Sera’s subordinate: “What are you going to do?”

Sera: “It’s not enough to just hurt this guy. We need to end him.”

----

[The forest where people go to murder people, aka where Nishiki tried to shoot Kiryu. I’ll call it Murder Forest from now on.]

Imaeda: “. . . hnn. What? Where am I?”

Sera: “You’re finally awake.”

Imaeda: “My feet hurt. Is this- is this concrete? Damn it! What are you going to do to me?”

Sera: “The bottom of the lake is full of aquatic plants. When corpses get tangled up, they don’t seem to float up. It’s unlikely you’ll ever be found with concrete attached to you as you sink. Drowning sounds like a painful way to go. By the way, we’ve recovered the memo. But I don’t suppose there’s a copy?”

Imaeda: “Okay, just let me go and-“

Sera: “Oh well. It’s not like a copy would matter when you’re submerged in the lake.”

Imaeda: “W-wait!”

Sera: “Do it.”

Sera’s subordinate: “Yes sir.”

{Imaeda is dragged towards the edge of the lake. The sound of splashing water can be heard.}

Imaeda: “Wait! I no longer have a copy of the memo, and I swear I won’t get involved with Jingu ever again! Please spare me!”

Sera: “Is that true?”

Imaeda: “It is! I have a 5 year old son, I just want to live . . . !”

Sera: “Children can grow up without parents.”

{More splashing is heard.}

Imaeda: “Please!!! I’m begging you!! I’ll do whatever you want!!!”

Sera: “. . . alright stop. Help him out.”

{Sera’s subordinate drags Imaeda back onto dry land.}

Imaeda: “Ah . . . thank you! Thank you!”

Sera: “But . . . don’t forget the words you mentioned earlier. If you break your promise – no matter where you are in the world, I’ll hunt you down and make you sink. This time with your son. That would be sad. Oh, we forgot your wife. I’ll do the same to her.”

Imaeda: “Y-you devil . . . !”

----

[Car]

Sera: *on the phone* Hello. I’ve recovered the memo.”

Jingu’s voice: “That guy . . . did you kill him?”

Sera: “There was no need to kill. You’ll never face his bared teeth again.”

Jingu’s voice: “Is it really okay? I don’t want a scandal right now!”

Sera: “It should be fine, nothing to worry about.”

Sera: (Jingu . . . he’s impatient. That’s because he’s always been in the political world. I wonder what he’s willing to lose at bigger stakes?)

----

|A few weeks later . . .|

[Tojo HQ - Chairman’s Office]

Sera: “Yumi is . . . pregnant?”

Kazama: “Yes. It’s been 3 months.”

Sera: “That is . . . congratulations. And the father . . . ?”

Kazama: “It’s Jingu. Didn’t he tell you anything?”

Sera: “N-no . . .”

Kazama: “It seems we will not be able to make anything official until Jingu has settled his affairs. So for now it’s a common-law marriage. Yumi . . . I hope her eyes are set on the future.”

Sera: (Jingu, what are you going to do . . .?!)

-END-

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

#rgg online #rggo lore #rggo #rgg #Ryu ga Gotoku #yakuza #masaru sera #kyohei jingu #lau ka long #shintaro kazama #yumi sawamura #@parttimeyakuza you were right #sera's too Gray to be a full himbo #still a hunk tho #and a bit dumb when it comes to his bestie jingu

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inyournightmares97 · 6 years ago

Text

Unsolicited (1/3) (M)

Jackson Wang is a perfect gentleman and he thinks it’s extremely vital that you understand... that is not his penis.

Warnings: Fluff. Crack? Adult topics, mentions of sexual harassment (but not too serious) and plenty of swearing. College!au. Please don’t ask when I’ll update. There are three parts and the next one will come when it’s ready.

Word Count: 4.8k+

It was perhaps an unfortunate set of circumstances that led you to become acquainted with Jackson Wang’s penis long before you ever saw his face. There had been multiple opportunities for your life to take a different turn. Had any of those events occurred differently, you would never have learned who Jackson Wang was.

But the idea that we have any control over our lives is an illusion. Life is simply a set of circumstances thrust upon us.

Not too different from how Jackson Wang’s male organ was unceremoniously thrust in your face one bleak Tuesday afternoon.

You were tired and miserable after spending all night finishing your Economics paper and attending a full day of classes, but you still had to trudge over to the student government building to handle your appointments. It was one of the aforementioned unfortunate circumstances that led to you being elected into the student government body of your university. You had been appointed as student advisor to the Sexual Harassment Response Cell six months ago.

The Sexual Harassment Response Cell was a small student-run organization. It had been hastily approved by the university authorities after an ugly incident involving a professor assaulting a female student. The student body had been enraged and taken to the streets in a passionate protest. To prevent such incidents from recurring in the future, and in order to handle the bad press, the authorities set up the SHRC. The SHRC was a place where students could come to share their experiences of sexual harassment on campus and learn about the appropriate avenues for recourse. The Cell’s responsibility was to provide victims with counselling, support, and if they wished to file a formal complaint with the university, then to make sure they had the right evidence and that their accusations weren’t unfounded.

How did you end up being a student advisor for the SHRC?

Well. You might have attended the protests last year and punched a guy in the face for saying something sexist about the matter. The sound of his nose cracking under your fist was extremely satisfying.

The ride to the police station in the cop car was not.

You made it out of jail in a few hours but the reputation stuck with you. You were now the chick who punched a dude at the protests and somehow you became a poster-girl for the cause. Bambam nominated you for the student government elections and Yugyeom published a picture of you punching the sexist guy in the front page of the monthly student newsletter. You won the election by an overwhelming majority.

If only you had known what you were signing up for.

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

“You’re late. My appointment was at 3 pm,” the freshman girl waiting in your tiny counselling office informed you haughtily.

Her eyelashes were long and fake and didn’t match her hair color. You tried not to make a snap judgement; she was supposed to be a victim but the disgusted look she was giving you made that difficult to believe.

You glanced at the clock. It was two minutes past 3.

“Uh, I’m sorry. I had a class all the way on the other side of campus-”

“Whatever,” she cut you off. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You nodded and sat behind the desk with a forced smile. You were supposed to be patient and understanding with the victims because they were usually going through a hard time. You were also supposed to listen to them if they cried and help them find ways to deal with their trauma. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that the girl in front of you had suffered something.

“I see on the form you filled in that your name is Nari, and you’re a Fashion studies major?” you asked her kindly. “That sounds interesting. Are you having a good time here at university?”

Nari raised an eyebrow at you.

“Fuck all that. I don’t want to chat. I’m here to report cyber-harassment. This dude I met at a frat party two weeks ago managed to get hold of my number and he’s been harassing me through text messages ever since. He’s also a senior and he’s the founding member of the basketball team on campus … so there’s like a power parity-”

“Power disparity,” you mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever it’s called. Basically he could make life extremely difficult for me because he has a lot of power and stuff. I hear that makes it even worse because he’s abusing his position? Are you writing all of this down?” she demanded suddenly.

You blinked. “Uh, I’ll make a note after our meeting. I’d rather focus on listening to you right now.”

“Anyway, he sent me a bunch of creepy messages threatening to rape me if I didn’t go out with him and he keeps trying to sext me. I have all the screenshots right here. Yesterday was the last straw because he just crossed all lines by sending me these. Want to see?” She thrust her cellphone at you and you could see screenshots of a text conversation.

“Uh….”

“Read them!”

You did. The screenshots were pretty bad; the guy talked about how he would go to any lengths to make the girl go on a date with him, and how badly he wanted to fuck her. The conversation went on in multiple screenshots. You had just reached the third screenshot when you saw it. A large, close-up image of a man’s penis.

You flinched. “Oh god.”

The girl smiled at you smugly. “See? Exactly my reaction. Unsolicited dick pic. That counts as harassment, right?”

You returned the phone to her, not really wanting to look at the penis or come across more pictures of it. It was large, you thought, but you hadn’t seen enough penises outside of porn to make an informed judgement. Maybe the angle was just flattering.

“All of it counts as harassment,” you reassured her.

Nari looked relieved. “Okay, good. Because I want him off the basketball team and preferably suspended.”

“I understand that you’re angry and want justice but let’s take this step-by-step. If you want to file a formal complaint with the university against this guy, then it’s going to be a long process. University authorities will give him a hearing and you’ll have to present your evidence before them. I’ll be there to guide you through it all and support you but we also need to consider the chances he will manage to prove his innocence, and the amount of trauma that this whole process might put you through. I want you to consider the pros and cons of taking this step.”

Nari blinked. “They can’t just kick him off the team right away?” she demanded.

You stared at her in disbelief.

“No. No disciplinary action can be taken against anyone without giving them a fair trial.”

She groaned. “Unbelievable. Victims like me have to go through the harassment and then all this bullshit as well. How long will the whole process take once you file the complaint for me?”

“It could take a couple of weeks.”

Nari looked unimpressed. “This senior, Jackson Wang, is harassing me. I’m an innocent girl and I didn’t come all the way to university to have guys send me pictures of their ugly dicks, okay? I want him off the basketball team as soon as possible. What are you going to do about it?”

You felt tired.

“Alright, look. I’m going to call this Jackson guy in and have a chat with him first so I can give him a heads-up about the accusations that he’s facing. Then I’d like you to come in again so I can share his response with you and I’ll help you file a complaint with the authorities if that’s what you still want to do in a couple of days. Does that sound good?”

“You can’t file it now?”

“I feel like it might be a good idea to wait a few days. Being too hasty about these things usually backfires. Let’s build a solid case first.”

Nari looked annoyed and then tucked her phone into her purse

“Fine. I’ll email you copies of the evidence and I’ll be waiting for you to call me in again.”

“Okay. Have a nice day!”

She rolled her eyes as she sauntered out of the room. “Whatever.”

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

“What is it with men and sending dick pics?” you wondered.

The cafeteria adjacent to the library was crowded and noisy on a Tuesday night. Bambam stuffed an enormous spoonful of rice into his mouth. He munched thoughtfully and swallowed before giving you a cheerful smile.

“It’s sexy. Who doesn’t like getting nudes?”

You frowned and poked at your noodles. You had thought that you were hungry but seeing the picture of Jackson Wang’s dick had ruined your appetite. The sausages on your plate were not helping the unpleasant image that kept flashing through your mind.

“Anyone who’s doing anything except masturbating?” you demanded as you used your chopsticks to transfer the sausages to Bambam’s plate. He bit into one while you continued your rant. “At no point during the day have I ever thought oh I’m horny I wish I had a picture of a dick to look at. Dicks are ugly.”

Bambam frowned mid-chew. “Hey. Can we be a little nicer to them? I happen to own one of those too and my boy enjoys the camera.”

You glared at him. “Please don’t tell me you send unsolicited dick pics to women.”

“Of course not. I only send them when the mood of the conversation is getting sexy and I’m sure that the girl is into it. I have girls who text me saying ‘show me how turned on you are for me’ and that’s basically code for ‘send me a dick pic’. Sometimes girls actually ask for them, you know?”

“And a lot of the time they don’t.”

Bambam shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. There are always those guys.”

“But what’s the logic?” you demanded. “What is the thought process that goes into snapping a dick pic in the middle of the day and sending it to some poor girl who's going about her business? Do men think their dicks are that attractive? Are they assuming that the girl will get so uncontrollably turned on by the close-up shot of their penises that they’ll drop everything and run to desperately fuck them? What sort of weird male delusion is that?”

Bambam sighed. “I doubt it goes that far. I think these guys are just hoping for nudes in return. You know? Like I showed you mine now please show me yours?”

“Gross.”

“Men likes receiving nudes. They just assume girls feel the same way.”

You rolled your eyes. Maybe you shouldn't be letting Nari’s situation get to you. The image of Jackson Wang’s semi-erect penis was burned into your mind unpleasantly (and now a copy of it was even sitting in your email inbox) but you needed to be more professional about the situation. You had sent an email to Jackson Wang asking him to come into your office tomorrow and the man had sent a simple and short ‘Cool. Will be there.’ as a response. You weren’t sure how to handle the meeting but you figured that getting an idea of whether Jackson Wang would confess to the dick pic or would deny sending it, seemed like a good place to start.

Bambam had finished eating your sausages and you were relieved to see them gone.

“So, did you make a decision about the new club you’re joining this semester?” he asked. The two of you had decided to join new clubs that would help you on your resumes in the long-term. “I think I’m going to try out for the basketball team. I figure since I’m tall I should go for the sport that gives me a natural advantage, right?”

“Are you sure you want to go for a sports club?” you asked disapprovingly.

Bambam frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you suck at almost all forms of physical activity. Just come with me to the environment club meeting on Friday, please?”

“Ew. No. Ask Yugyeom.”

“He won’t come unless you come,” you whined. Yugyeom and Bambam wanted to play sports but you were personally opposed to putting in so much physical effort. You already had enough difficult classes to deal with this semester. The Environment Club seemed much simpler. You could attend meetings once a week and maybe help design some awareness posters or join a clean-up drive. “Why can’t you just come with me to the meeting? I don’t want to go alone.”

Bambam pointed to himself. “This beautiful body was not made to pick up trash, babe.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Tell me if the club has a lot of hot chicks, though.”

“No, I’m not going to encourage your man-whoring ways, Bambam. Find a more normal hobby.”

Bambam rolled his eyes as he stole a piece of carrot from your tray. “You’re just miserable because you’re a virgin. And sitting at that stupid SHRC all day and listening to women talk about harassment is turning you into a man-hater. If you keep going down the path you’re on now then you’ll never get laid, trust me.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “If that’s how ugly male penises all look then maybe I don’t want one stuck in me.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bambam brightened up and suddenly pointed his chopsticks at you. “Have you considered that you might be… you know? Gay? Cause I know this chick who’s bi, okay, and she says that if I can find a lesbian we might be able to have a threesome-”

“-and now I have completely lost my appetite,” you snapped as you grabbed your tray. “Bye, Bambam.”

He simply waved as you tossed the contents of your tray in the garbage and left the cafeteria. You needed to head back to your dorm and get some sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day.

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

You hadn’t been prepared for Jackson Wang to be so handsome.

He was already waiting in your office when you arrived; you were surprised to see Jackson was punctual despite the short notice. He had dark brown hair that flopped into his bright eyes and a smile that was almost childlike. Jackson was staring at a poster put up on your office wall that described some basic self-defence tactics for women and he glanced at you when you entered.

“These posters always tell women to kick dudes in the groin!” Jackson pointed out to you brightly, pointing at a cartoon image of a woman kneeing her male attacker. You stared at the handsome man in front of you and blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, this is just my first time in the SHRC building. I never knew that Self-Defence 101 for women was to kick the guys’ balls,” Jackson admitted casually. He was gorgeous; your eyes lingered on the muscles along the length of his tanned arms when he held his hand out for you to shake. “Hi, I’m Jackson Wang. You emailed me asking me to meet you here?”

You cleared your throat and shook his hand. Jackson’s skin was soft and warm.

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about a complaint I received yesterday. Please take a seat.”

“Can I just finish reading this poster first? I had no clue there were this many ways to knee a guy in the jewels. I feel like I should be aware of these things, you know?” Jackson joked.

You frowned. Did he think this was funny? You were not impressed.

“Unless you’re planning on assaulting a woman, I see no reason why you need to read that poster.”

Jackson’s smile fell and his lower lip stuck out in a small pout as he slumped over to the seat across from your desk. He folded his arms across his chest in a childish fashion. “Hey. Sometimes men need to defend themselves too, you know. Or do you think that men can’t be victims of sexual violence?” he challenged.

You sighed and pressed your fingers to your temples. “I never said that. Unfortunately, you’re not here as a victim. I’ve asked to meet you because I received a complaint from a female student yesterday that she’s been the victim of cyber-harassment. She’s been receiving threatening text messages and unsolicited images of genitalia.”

Jackson’s dark eyes widened in concern and he leaned forward. “No way! What bastard has been doing that?”

You stared at him.

“You. The complaint is against you, Jackson.”

Jackson stared blankly for a few seconds and you could almost see the gears whirring behind his big puppy-like eyes. He tilted his head slightly to the left.

“Me?” he asked, pointing at himself in a confused manner. You would have thought he was cute if you hadn’t been convinced that he was a sexual predator. “I sent threatening texts to a female student? No way. I rarely even text girls.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Likely story.”

Jackson seemed startled. His handsome smile fell off his face and he waved a hand in the air wildly. “Whoa, wait. Are you serious right now? Is there really somebody accusing me of harassment? Who?”

“I’m not at liberty to reveal the identity of victims who approach the SHRC for their own safety,” you explained calmly. “But she has shown me text messages as evidence and she also said that she intends to file a formal complaint with the university authorities. You would have to defend yourself before a Disciplinary Committee and you could be suspended.”

Jackson stared at you.

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“But I’ve never- I swear I’ve never sent any messages like that! This has got to be some kind of misunderstanding. What do the messages even say? Can I see them?” Jackson insisted. You bit your lip. Ideally you shouldn’t show him the pictures because it could help him identify Nari as the complainant. But something about Jackson’s brown eyes and horrified expression made you want to give him a chance to defend himself. You carefully opened your laptop and found the email Nari had sent you with the screenshots.

“I have the unsolicited dick pic you sent her right here.”

Jackson stared at you. “What? Let me see that!”

He turned the laptop to face him and there, on the screen, was the large picture of a penis that Nari had shown you. Jackson stared at it intently for a few moments and then turned to look at you in relief.

“Oh thank god. Dude, there’s a misunderstanding. That’s not even my dick,” he told you confidently.

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Jackson used the mouse to zoom into the picture and you winced as the penis now blew up the entire screen. “That is absolutely not my penis. I would know. I feel awful that this poor girl had to get this in her inbox but it is not mine.” Jackson leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve got the wrong guy. You should be looking for the owner of this penis.”

“The complainant named you. There’s only one Jackson Wang in this university.”

“Come on. You’ve got to be kidding me right now. That is literally some other dude’s dick, how can you just sit there and tell me that I’m going to get into trouble for it?” Jackson demanded. He slammed his hand on your desk and frowned. “That’s unfair!”

“I have no way to confirm whether or not this is your penis.”

Jackson’s hands slowly drifted towards his belt. “Well I could always…”

Your eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare take your pants off in this office.”

Jackson pouted and dropped his hands to his sides. “I wasn’t going to,” he whined. He reached for your laptop and zoomed out of the penis picture to look at the text message. “Wait, this is just a screenshot. Don’t you have the original message files? Because I’m positive that these messages couldn’t have come from my phone number. You can check my phone. I have no records of this stuff.”

You blinked. Jackson had a point. These were just screenshots. All they proved was that these messages had come from somebody that Nari had saved on her phone as “Jackson”; his real phone number was nowhere visible on screen.

“You think these messages came from somebody else?” you wondered.

Jackson nodded firmly. “I think this girl is being catfished.”

“Catfished?”

“Yeah! Someone is pretending to be me and trying to get nudes out of this girl,” Jackson insisted smugly. He leaned back and folded his arms across his broad chest. “It wouldn’t be the first time; I have a handsome face and an easier time with the ladies so a guy might have thought his chances were better if he pretended to be me.”

Oh god save me from these people.

“So this guy is pretending to be you but he’s sending her pictures of his own dick?” you questioned, unimpressed.

Jackson snapped his fingers as though he’d just had a brilliant idea. “You know what we need to do?”

“What?”

“We need to find the owner of this penis.”

You stared at him in disbelief. You couldn’t tell whether Jackson Wang was really a complete idiot or if he was playing you in order to make himself look innocent. You sighed and pressed your fingers to your temple in irritation.

“Or I could just call the complainant and ask her what phone number these texts and pictures came from?”

Jackson frowned and slumped back in his seat. “Doesn’t sound as fun, but okay.”

“How about we end this meeting here and I get in touch with you again after I’ve spoken to the complainant and floated the idea that maybe these pictures are coming from somebody other than you?” you asked. This was turning into a longer procedure than you’d expected but you did have the responsibility to make sure that Jackson wasn’t being framed or falsely accused.

Jackson nodded. “Sounds good to me. In the meantime, I’ll be on the lookout for the real owner of that penis. I spend a lot of time with other guys in locker rooms”

You winced. “Please don’t do that.”

Jackson stood up and he reached across the desk to shake your hand once more. You avoided his gaze and tried not to feel flustered by his warm and gentle grip. He stared at you for a moment and froze with his fingers wrapped around yours.

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Are you by any chance that girl who socked a dude in the face during the protests last year?” he asked bluntly. His lips twisted into a cheeky smile as his eyes scanned you eagerly. “Cause you look a lot like her and damn, that was insanely hot.”

You flushed. “I’ll get in touch with you if I need you, Jackson.”

Jackson grinned. “Sure. Pleasure meeting you.”

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

“I think I’m in love,” Bambam sighed happily.

You barely glanced at him, too busy staring at your laptop screen. Bambam was lying back on your couch with a stupid smile on his face while Yugyeom sat at his feet and dully flicked through the channels on your television. Both of them stank of sweat, having come straight to your apartment from their basketball trials.

“You literally just saw her, Bam,” Yugyeom pointed out dismissively.

“I know but she was just so….” Bambam trailed off and sat up eagerly to explain himself. “You know how some people just have this aura? Like this charisma? She had that, okay? It was just the way she walked and the way she dressed and her gaze…”

“It took her less than ten seconds to walk past us, you really analyzed all that in that short amount of time? You can’t even finish reading the powerpoint presentation in class before Professor Lee switches to the next slide.”

Bambam pouted. “Can’t a man fall in love in peace? Damn.”

“You don’t even know who she is.”

“I’ll just hang around the basketball court at the same time tomorrow and see if she passes by again! She was probably coming from the library. I’m sure she’ll do it again sometime. Right? Help me out here, would you?” Bambam demanded. He reached over to poke your shoulder and you frowned at him in irritation. It was certainly unusual for Bambam to say that he was in love with a woman but you had bigger things to worry about.

“If she goes to the library then she’s not your type, Bambam.”

Bambam pouted. “That’s unfair.”

“When’s the last time you read a book? And frantically flipping through textbooks the night before exams doesn’t count,” you snapped. When Bambam fell silent, you let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. This whole dick pic business is just getting to me. The dude claims that it’s not his penis. I called up Nari asking for the text logs but she says she took the screenshots and then deleted both the original messages and his number. It’s kind of suspicious… but maybe she just didn’t want to have them on her phone anymore? I don’t know what to believe.”

Yugyeom frowned. “He really just flat-out said it wasn’t his dick?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s either a guy who's telling the truth, or a guy with a lot of experience lying.”

You turned your laptop screen so that both Bambam and Yugyeom could see it. You’d found Jackson Wang’s Facebook profile. His cover picture was a group photo of him at the beach. He was wearing a pair of shorts that showed off his toned thighs and a significant bulge. Jackson’s mouth was twisted in a toothy, cheerful smile.

You pulled up the picture of the dick next to it.

“You guys tell me what you think. Does this dick look like it could belong to that guy?” you demanded.

Bambam leaned forward and squinted. “Holy shit. That’s Jackson Wang.”

“Yeah.”

“Your dick pic guy was Jackson Wang?” Bambam demanded, horrified. He shook his head quickly. “No way. That is not possible. Do you even know who Jackson Wang is? He’s like the coolest guy I’ve ever met. He charming and he’s funny and everybody in this university fucking loves him. Okay? Girls would kill to be with Jackson Wang. He doesn’t need to send dick pics. He probably gets dick pics, and nudes, and all sorts of stuff on the daily.”

You stared at Bambam. “Huh.”

“Besides, he’s a totally nice and humble guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, but attractive people are never really humble. They just pretend to be.”

“Jackson is.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well he is,” Bambam replied firmly. He leaned back and frowned at the picture of the penis. “But on second thought that is one big penis so it might just be Jackson’s. He does have that big dick energy.”

You tilted your head at the screen. “You think this one is big? Yugyeom?”

Yugyeom nodded. “Pretty big, yeah. And you have to keep in mind that it’s only semi-erect.”

You sighed and closed both tabs before rubbing your hands over your eyes and letting out a groan. This was not how you had intended to spend your Wednesday night. You leaned back against the sofa.

“What am I even doing? How did my life come to the point where I need to stare at this random picture of a penis and figure out who it belongs to?” you whined miserably. “I’ve never even seen a guy’s dick in real life before.”

Bambam snickered. “Maybe you should ask Jackson to show you his. You know. So he can prove that it’s not the one in the picture?”

You glared at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t exactly go back to Nari and tell her; oh guess what, I looked at Jackson’s dick and it’s not the same one from your screenshots, what if she still wants to file a complaint? What if the matter goes to the university authorities and I have to take Jackson’s side? Am I supposed to look the Dean in the eye and go I’m sorry sir, I already checked out his penis and it’s not the same? Should I ask Jackson to drop his pants in front of the Dean too?”

Yugyeom snickered. “That could be the lead up to a pretty interesting porn movie.”

“No, there has to be some other way to solve this. Nari didn’t just come up with those text messages out of nowhere, there has to be some story behind this.”

Bambam snorted and turned away from you. “Okay, Nancy Drew. You go conduct your investigation. We’re gonna watch tv.”

You pouted. “You guys are useless.”

“I like being useless. It takes off the pressure to perform.”

“I doubt any performance of yours has lasted more than two minutes.”

Bambam stuck his tongue out at you irritably. “Well, guess what? You’ve never slept with me so you don’t get an opinion on my performance. Go ask Jackson Wang how long he lasts.”

You sighed.

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 fanfiction #got7 fluff #got7 smut #got7 angst #got7 jackson #jackson wang #jackson wang scenario #jackson wang scenarios #got7 jackson fluff #jackson wang fanfiction #wang jackson

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beatrice-otter · 5 years ago

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The Racist Roots of the Anti-Abortion movement

I learned an AMAAZING new fact today, about the anti-abortion movement in the US. I already knew that up through the 70s, Catholics were the only religious group in the US to be coherently anti-abortion, and even for them, it was not a huge issue. I already knew that it was Evangelical and Fundamentalist leaders' desire for power and influence that caused their segment of Christians in America to dive head-first into politics for the first time ever, and why they changed abortion rights for something most US Protestants either supported or didn't care about, to The Most Evil Thing Ever And The Greatest Unforgiveable Sin (and oh, by the way, a great megaphone to whip up their supporters with and a great club to beat their opponents over the head with). But what I didn't know was why they chose to go for politics as their route to power and fame, instead of the old tried-and-true Evangelical method of hosting lots of revivals and bringing people to Jesus. I mean, there had been people trying to whip up the more conservative branches of American Christianity into political fervor to make them a voting block, and the response had always been that evangelicals focused on salvation and bringing people to Jesus, not temporal matters like politics. So what changed? What brought around the 180 on political engagement? Oh, friends, it's a doozy. Thank you to Kindreds Podcast for bringing this to my attention, it's not the main theme of their episode on abortion, but they mentioned it and it led me to investigate the details. Politico has a great article about it. Roe V. Wade in 1973 was a great big "meh" in Christian circles. Catholics didn't like it, but Protestants mostly approved. Nobody but Catholics believed life began at conception. Or, rather, most Christians would have said that a fetus is alive, but it's not really a person until it's born and can live separate from its mother. This is including Evangelicals and fundamentalists, by the way; the head of the Southern Baptist Convention at the time, a fundamentalist named W. A. Criswell, said exactly that on the record and nobody really cared. And those who did care largely didn't go around making political hay over it. Then the IRS went after Bob Jones University (Jerry Falwell's darling school) for not admitting black students. Private schools which explicitly excluded students of color lost their tax-exempt status, and BJU tried to claim that it could discriminate because it was a religious institution. Religious institutions are allowed to discriminate on religious grounds; so, for example, a Christian church can say they'll only hire Christians to play the organ/be custodian/whatever, and feminist Catholics can't sue the Roman Catholic church for not ordaining female priests. But the thing is, in order for that discrimination to be legal, it has to be related to longstanding doctrine of the church. And BJU couldn't prove that racism was a longstanding doctrine of Christianity in general or Evangelicalism in particular. And they lost their tax exempt status in 1976. That was a much bigger problem to White Evangelical and fundamentalist leaders in the late 1970s than abortion was. They couched in terms of "The government is infringing on our religious freedom!" but the problem wasn't religious freedom, it was racism. All of a sudden, they needed political clout. And since by that point naked racism was a non-starter in securing the moral high ground (dog-whistling was fine; outright saying it was not), they couldn't use "but we don't want to integrate!" as their call to action. And so all of a sudden, they started preaching sermons and writing articles on how evil abortion was, and how that had always been the Evangelical position (even though it hadn't been) and it was a sign of America's moral decay that it was allowed now and anybody with any morals at all (certainly any Christian) would agree with them because it was the only moral and faithful position, and how Christians had to involve themselves in politics to overturn Roe v. Wade. And by 1979, they were firmly supporting Reagan over Carter. If the issue were truly abortion, supporting Reagan made no sense. Carter had worked as president to reduce the number of abortions (mostly through social programs that would eliminate some of the need for them); he was wishy-washy on the subject politically, but on a moral level, he didn't like abortion. (Very much a centrist who thought abortion should be safe, legal, and rare.) Reagan, on the other hand, signed the most liberal abortion bill in the country in 1967 when he was governor of California. You know what Reagan had that Carter didn't? Dog-whistle politics. On the issue of race, Carter was a mid-century Democrat generally in favor of civil rights. Reagan took Nixon's idea of dog-whistling (using coded language so you could enact racist policies without actually saying you hated Black people) to a whole new level. Reagan was the king of finding fig-leaves so that he could enact racist policies but claiming that the negative impact on the Black community was just a side effect (or denying that it existed at all). And he also had the kind of ethics that would allow him to reverse his position on key issues if that would get him elected. Carter was a man of principle. Whether you liked his principles or not, he generally stuck to them. Reagan was racist enough for them, and would give them both what they actually wanted (ways to keep Black people out without actually saying stuff most of their parishioners would notice as racist) and what they needed as an excuse to have the political power to bargain with (explicit anti-abortion policies).

#abortion #Christianity #us politics #history

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brazilianism · 6 years ago

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Brazilian Elections - Let’s talk about Fernando Haddad

Alright, so. Elections this year and we’re in a big mess, right? The new plot twist to our ever changing political scenario is Fernando Haddad, who happens to be one of the only politicians I actually like, so i’m gonna use this post to talk about his work so y’all can get to know him better since he’s not that famous outside of São Paulo. First of all, for all of you who have no idea what i’m talking about, let me catch you up: Lula (our ex-president) is still, ya know, in jail. For corruption and stuff. We can debate that more thoroughly in another post. Problem is, he wants to run for president again (he wanted before he was arrested already), and technically by some legal standards he might, cause his sentence hasn’t really been contested in every possible court, which is to say that even though his chances of them being overthrown are VERY small, it could still happen and therefore there’s a legal breach there that could allow him to run for president. And bOY is he popular at it - he was leading all the polls around the country these past few months, he was at the lead with nearly 40% of the votes at the last poll (published on the 21st/august). But there has been a debate for months now on whether he’d appoint someone else as a candidate in his place in case the most likely thing happens and he can’t run... And we kinda got the answer a few weeks ago - he didn’t appoint someone else, but he picked his vice president: Haddad, from his own party. Which is to say, in case he is barred from running, Haddad will likely be taking his place. [in the very surprising scenario where Lula DOES run Haddad would not be vice president anymore cause they have a deal with another party and then Manuela D’avila, another ex-candidate for the presidency gets the job cause she’s now supporting Haddad as kinda vice-vice president but that’s a whole other matter). So let’s talk about Fernando Haddad.

Quick background: Haddad is the son of a Lebanese immigrant and graduated in law school (and is a certified lawyer). He's also got a masters degree in economy and a doctorate in philosophy, all at USP, which is like, one of the best universities in Latin america. He’s also a teacher there in Social Sciences and currently a teacher at another private university. In public office, he has been the Minister for Education for 6 years of Lula’s government and Mayor to Brazil’s biggest city, São Paulo, from 2013 to 2016. I’m not saying you need any of those titles to be any good at the job (I mean, just look at Lula I guess) but we sure have to say Haddad came prepared for the fight talking about ground knowledge.

As the Minister for Education Haddad invested mostly in making the access to universities broader - it was his government that created ProUni (a program that provides government scholarships to poor students in private universities), and re-designed FIES (the financing and credit system for poor students to pay for universities) making it easier for people to pay (less interest rates, more time). During his time we also got 14 new public (free) universities and other kinds of educational centers making the number of available spots go from about 140K to 218K. He was also responsible for reformulating ENEM so that it could start to become a sort of brazilian SAT, now accepted as an entrance test to several universities that all had different tests (and you had to take all of them and pay for all of them if you wanted to apply to multiple places). When he started, Brazil invested about 3,9% of our GDP in education. At the end of his run, we were investing 5,1%. The PISA results showed Brazil among the 3 countries that had evolved the most in education during those years (yeah, we were still pretty low on the rank, but we can’t say it wasn’t working). So education is quite his thing, but that’s not all.

As a Mayor, Haddad had a clear vision for the city that involved making it more livable - his slogan said “more human”. The ideia is based on studies that say once the citizens have a sense of personal relationship with the place they inhabit the whole area starts to become safer (and also better taken care of, obviously). And that seems obvious but São Paulo had some MAJOR problems of livability.

Imma list some of my favorite projects. For starters, Haddad changed the lightning of a big part of the city to LED lamps (they’re way brighter so the sense of safety is enhanced cause no dark alleys and stuff AND they’re more efficient so we also started saving energy) [x]. Then he created bike lanes and more bus corridors to make public transport faster and so that people could actually use BIKES in the damn city without too many risks (the number of people who use bikes here grew over 60% in a couple of years, who could have guessed it [x]). He then reduced the speed limits for several streets and speed lanes. That was MASSIVELY impopular, but he said he didn’t care if people hated him as long as it worked in the long run - and, lol, it did. With all of that he reduced accidents and deaths on traffic in the city by 15% overall and by half in specific areas [x] [x], and most interestingly: São Paulo dropped over fifty fucking places on international traffic ranks (which is over 10 times what ANY other brazilian city varied in the ranks those years so there’s no blaming it on any external factors) [x] . Yeah, Haddad started to solve traffic, which is arguably the thing everyone hates the most in this city. People spending less time in traffic start spending more time at leisure - no matter, he closed important avenues on Sundays so that people could use that space, public space, for fun, and anybody who’s been at Paulista on a Sunday nowadays will have seen how damn awesome that place became. He also regulated and stimulated Carnaval as a street party that is now country-famous (do y’all remember how nearly nobody ever considered spending Carnaval in São Paulo a cool thing before 2012? yeah. and people come to the city now just for that and spend a whole lot of money here cause of it [x]). Then he created our very first fucking city tour program with buses and all (man, biggest city in the country and we didn’t have a city tour bus for tourists, what the fuck). He did the first actual Floods Tackling project that involved actually mapping the floods and acting directly on them with more cleaning of the streets and even smart-monitored sewers and trash cans at some places [x]. He created LGBT support centers and was responsible for putting the São Paulo Pride Parade (one of the biggest in the world) on the official government calendars (and as minister for education he was responsible for trying to implement an anti-homophobia program involving educating and orienting teachers to deal with these situations) [x] . He tackled the drug problem (especially the crack-cocaine problem) downtown by offering support (food, housing, medical and psychological assistance, and actual jobs) to addicts - a lot of people were against “giving money to drug addicts”, but again, it worked, and I have a whole post about this here. He created a program to stimulate recycling food at the big open markets and to ensure that organic food was served in the local schools every week. He helped open several tech centers that allowed for people to take tech and coding courses and use 3D printers and other stuff for free or at low prices [x]. Still want more culture? He created public cinemas at poor areas (that showed all kinds of movies, local ones, international ones, all in theaters as good as the paid kind) and created a whole institution to stimulate film making in São Paulo, SPCINE [x] [x]. Oh, and he started a project to take the names of our previous dictators and torturers off the street names (cause yeah we had that) and replace them with, well, decent people [x].

Not enough to have some cool ass projects? K, we can discuss his economy as mayor. Cause not only Haddad was innovative as fuck as said above, he also made the city’s finances as good as ever - and I mean it, cause he renegotiated our historical debts to the federal government and reviewed several contracts to companies AND created an agency to investigate corruption scandals regaining several millions into our vaults [x] [x], in a way that by the end of his government we had over 40 billion less in debt [x], 2-3 billion in store and had our investment rate (you know the thing that Brazil kept being lowered at? by international agencies? those grades and stuff?] raised. Oh yeah, and he got like 95% of what he promised in his campaign done [x].

And I said all of this so I can exemplify why I like Haddad - it’s not about one or two individual projects, it’s about the way he thinks as a whole. He thinks ahead and he thinks based on actual science - without forgetting a human side of it all. All of his unpopular and polemic measures had positive results - they went miles away from common sense, but it didn’t matter for him cause scientific studies had showed it would work (and it did! what a fucking surprise!). Of couse, that made him the most hated mayor by some people cause all he does is just so weird, right? and he never cared, multiple times he mentioned he didn’t mind being unpopular if it was the right thing for the city. And he was in fact unpopular cause of that (and cause of his party, obviously). He left office leaving contracts signed for about 7 years ahead. He didn’t even have high hopes of being reelected by then, but he left stuff ready to work for the next government (likely an opposition one) anyway. Cause that’s what you do if you’re a decent politician, but it’s so damn rare to see this kind of attitude here. Haddad looked at cold hard facts, saw a city that could use a lot of change in several areas, made a plan and went ahead with it knowing that a lot of people would hate him for it but that in the end it could actively change how we live - and he was right. By the end of it, people did have a different relationship with the city.

Haddad showed me in both his public offices that he doesn’t have the small mind of most our politicians that seem to only be able to think about things that can happen every 4 years, nor only about things that will be popular for the sake of being popular without being right. And that’s just what I want from a politician. Seems so simple, and yet it’s nearly impossible to find. So that’s why he’s a politician i’m not afraid to support.

To close this off i’m gonna leave y’all with links to articles from the Wall Street Journal and The New York Times (portuguese here) and The Wire complimenting his time as mayor too so english readers can get some more opinions AND here an Haddad article (in portuguese) that I like if you want to see more of him (especially his views of Brazilian politics), cause this doesn’t even cover all his interesting projects. Here’s also an interview with him in english, and here here and here some in portuguese for people who want to get a better sense of him and his government plan. Feel free to ask more questions about his projects, I’ll try to get to them when I have time.

#brazil #brazilian #haddad #Lula #fernando haddad #eleições 2018 #eleições brasileiras #politics #brazilian politics #luis inacio lula da silva #brasil #br #sp #educação #são paulo

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new-moon-tea · 6 years ago

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Cage in the preschoolers!

Yes, cage in the preschoolers. Why? Because I for one wouldn’t want to worry about a child flying off and getting stuck in a tree! I mentioned before about a few families I frequently thought about while thinking of this beloved hypothetical of mine. But this is just the start, just the beginning of this phase of life and probably the most difficult. I often imagined high school and preschool mostly, but what about elementary and middle school? When would be an appropriate age for learning how to fly? We teach our kids to walk as soon as they are able, so logically the same would be for those with wings, but emotionally I could never! Are you nuts?! But then where? I think we’d start off with highschool, but again, it makes more sense for my written rambles to begin from the first stage: preschool.

Preschools need cages. I’ve said it what feels like eight times now but it’s only because I’m worried! I mean I remember kids would just walk off of school premises when I was growing up for basically no reason so imagine if they had wings! I’d like to hope not a rough cage, maybe more like netting, but what if they fall? You see, kids run and fall on playgrounds all the time. So in theory, logically, flying shouldn’t be fussed over any differently. Except a rough trip and falling are different in heights and that’s a serious issue. What about -if- they fall? I can’t say I’ve very heard of or seen a bird fall from the sky just because they tripped on their own wings, but what about a clumsy human child? Thinking more on it my worries sort of go away, remembering or comparing it to swimming when as a kid I’d try to swim all the way down to the bottom but the burning need for air would discourage me and I’d retreat back to the sunny surface. Or like running and trying to sprint fast enough to pass that stupid mile in high school, only for the pain in my legs make me think “yeah it’s not worth it,” and relax my pace. I mean, aren’t playgrounds planned for giving kids enough room to run around and cause a bit of chaos? So I assume whoever is designing these cages would know how much space to include for them to fly around safely, or maybe young kids would wear bands to keep their wings folded? It would make sense to use these bands right off the bat until we figure out how to train kids, which would likely begin in highschool, and as this training became more reliable and founded we’d push for it to be taught earlier and earlier. So let’s go over this again.

In preschool the first order of business might be to close all schools, it might be to keep all winged kids in classes to start (oh those poor teachers…) and then likely followed up with some sort of maybe government issued band or recommended scarves be tied around their chests so they can’t fly off. Then once things settle down we start building cages, hopefully made of net strung up on archways and maybe add some platforms for kids to fly onto! I’ll carry over these concepts to kindergarten because heck if I know the difference between the two, right? I imagine they might occasionally do special days where an animal keeper brings in an owl to give them on example on how other creatures fly, to help get them to understand their own wings, before an official-esque winged person comes in to teach basic wing exercises, but is this crazy to think of? We don’t bring in athletes to teach kids how to walk or run, but that’s because we learn from our parents. If a winged child happens to be the ⅓ of population but their parents weren’t, they couldn’t teach them on their own, right? Or could they? I suppose it could be possible but only after we have a better understanding on how to teach them, rough idea right now I’m picturing one parent training them to stretch their wings and maybe giving more airplane rides, and gradually working towards things like encouraging their child to fly from the arms of their father, kneeling on or over a bed or couch, and getting them to fly over to the other parent on the opposite side. Oh, youtube videos from young adults who maybe got their wings in late highschool, rebelled against panicked government regulation because heck it, they have wings now, and learned more quickly because of this, would definitely help! I’m pretty sure that was a confusing sentence but that’s how we roll when discussing the fate of our world if ⅓ of humanity’s population got wings.

Elementary school would be only slightly different, while I did state, though not confidently, that there might be platforms in playground for flying children, we don’t actually know what age they even would begin flying. There are many different species of birds but with my loose and lazy research let’s use the bluebird as an example, though note I lazily used both a western and eastern bluebird for reference. So, bluebirds “fledge” at about 21 days and linger for another 14 before becoming independent. I’m operating under the assumption they learn to fly at 30 days, roughed out to a month, for easy calculations. These bluebirds also can live to around 6 to 10 years so I’ll use 8 years as an example. So if we do the math and compare this as a ratio to humans on the average lifespan of 80 years… Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but here’s how I calculated this. The bluebirds live 8 years, learn to fly at one month old. Twelve months in a year, times eight, gives us the ratio of age of flight to lifespan at 1/96. So we need to solve for human flight age (x) out of 80 years, transferring it to months gives us x/960 months.

-1- -x-

96 = 960

96x= 960 x 1

96x= 960

96 = 96

X = 10 months

So I am right in picturing a baby being taught to fly by their parents! It was gonna bother me and throw off my following rambles on elementary school if I didn’t get that off my chest. Now then, on the topic of elementary school. Let’s begin on the premise this is before we’ve understood how wings work. I think they’d also get the bands and such, and assemblies all over the world to politely inform students they should not be flying until the school gives any further notice. Of course this would only be at the school, maybe some parents would watch their kids glide off the porch at home, or others might worry themselves sick over their children… I think school would get a bit frustrating for students, who now run on less space due to the winged students needing more space for their wings. I would guess that it’d be mostly similar to kindergarten and preschool but with a bit more trust in their students to play it safer, and that carries on over into middle school as well, but I see a few major differences. Anywho, once we did learn more about wings it’d be much easier to accommodate, we made need special chairs, or new chairs universal for both standard humans and winged humans to sit comfortably, maybe wing rests? And platforms for kids to fly on/off in the playground, I’d suggest “take off” slides that flip up and make it easier to glide a bit higher or further but we’d be in trouble if a normal kid just slid right off...oh! Landing pads? There could also be ‘hideout’ like structures on jungle gyms for flying kids to get into like a bird’s nest! But there’s always the safety concerns. Do you think we’d do special easter egg hunts where we hide eggs in trees for winged kids? Or is that unfair to earth-dwelling humans? It’s a lot to consider, and earlier I stated while a lot of this carries over into the next school level I’ll be adding some changes in middle school.

For starters we’d probably be instituting special gym classes, or at least options, for flying kin. Perhaps it’s like an elective for gym? Or would it be mandatory? Can wings even get fat? I’ve only seen a fat bird once, pretty sure it was because it was pregnant, but no fat wings… I imagine at this point they’d stop with the bands on wings, or at least focus on preschoolers and kindergarteners before middle school. Of course I also picture kids struggling with this a lot harder, feeling like the odd one out or some nerds thinking they’ve just become the main character to the story, others humble-bragging and being assholes because no middlescholer is a functioning human person. I see elementary kids both excited and scared of their new wings in all honesty. I also picture middle school kids being punished for flying when not supposed to be by giving them bands, and imagine very frustrated girls as their changing bodies just got way even more changed. Could you wear a bra with wings? Eventually, I suppose. I pictured elementary school kids daring each other to fly up to a tree or something and see even more daring challenges in middle school, with added “you should fly over and get us mcdonald's!” to the response, “no!” followed by a “why not?!” immediately put down by “Well why don’t you walk or run there?!”. Which is a conversation that I’ve listed before but needed to be re-said as it is more relevant and carries over to high school.

High Schoolers I imagine way more confusion and distaste for their wings. I picture some becoming more popular due to their wings, but there’s a lot going on at that age and this would not be a positive change. It’d likely be easier with some maybe counseling groups, helping kids vent and discuss with other kids with wings too. I also think teenagers, or would hope they’d be smart enough to know better than to fly at school, but I also know they’d for sure try it like everyday after school. I also picture high school to be the first one to receive a gym class on how to fly, before it transitions down the line to middle school as well. I wonder if you’d need a license to fly? Or would it be like walking and biking? Logically it seems that it wouldn’t be necessary, but what about in cities where that can be alarming? I only ask as my thoughts first go off onto how city schools would go about teaching flying. There’s so much to be thought of when planning for this ridiculous hypothetical, but for now I think I’ve said my piece on how schools would act, or at least try to act. Maybe I’m missing finer details that’d only become apparent as we change for this new world… Y’know I’ve taken to asking my friends again, one who we’ll call Red, like Blue, insists on genocide being the first reaction. Don’t get me started on this ridiculous notion, it doesn’t make sense anymore. But heck, here we go!

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enviroblog-spring21 · 4 years ago

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Climate Impact Initiative // Final Statement

This semester marks my last full semester at Fordham University. I always felt as if I was an outsider at the university, even when I transferred to Lincoln Center. While I was undergoing that process and discussed it with some of my Fordham professors they immediately went: "Oh, yeah, that is a MUCH better fit for you," seeing as I come off as artsy and eclectic and so forth.

The Climate Impact Initiative has not made me regret my transient nature, but it was definitely bittersweet that I found a good niche at the university, however, one-hundred and twenty-five miles away from campus. If I had taken this class at the beginning of my time here at Fordham instead of during the swan song of my time here, I think I would have been a lot happier, found more community, and perhaps even stayed at Rose Hill.

During the second half of the semester, I estimate that I devoted between two and three hours per week to the Climate Impact Initiative. The latter half of the semester was certainly different from the former. For one, the halfway point came around the time I was finally getting into the rhythm of this class, therefore, I had a better kick in my step and more confidence with pushing the boundaries of what I believe the organization is capable of.

I worked closely with the composting team, as I found that it was where my socio-ecological niche was in a way. The goal of the compost team this semester was to develop, implement, and procure university support for a composting program. In the first half of the semester, I pitched an idea that the composting team took a considerable liking to: partnering with the Garden Club to begin the formation of a coalition for supporting composting on campus.

Although the composting team really liked the idea, I began to realize the limitations of the radical pragmatist dynamic the group, as well as the rest of the initiative holds. I believe this comes from the sort-of inward-looking condition of the organization, it is not the only organization with this issue, but it is what inhibits visibility of the program as well as discourages the sort-of coalition-style approach I wanted to take group into.

Nevertheless, I reassessed and tried to take this approach within the Climate Impact Initiative itself. I tried to act as a lynchpin or a messenger between my own composting group and the Aramark divestment/social media group. I made the case for somewhat of an internal coalition by pointing out that if we have compost bins all over campus. Aramark's plastic cutlery and packaging is sure to end up in nearly all of them, even with signs above all of the bins displaying what you can and cannot dispose of in them. Therefore, I posited, in order to have the most effective composting program possible, not just window dressing university administrators and USG officials will take credit for, we need to implement composting and divest from Aramark simultaneously.

I believe my proposition resonated well with the leadership of the group, and with the Climate Impact Initiative as a whole. I am positive I had an impact on the composting master plan drafted for the United Student Government, and influence in talks with elected student leaders.

Still, even with my newly found pragmatism within the group, my aspirations for the group continued to be lofty by their standards. I remember during one Zoom meeting for class I mentioned how my best friend, Alex Trousilek, lived in an environmentally friendly "theme house" at her school, Union College. I was delighted to hear Professor Van Buren and a couple of students in the class take an interest in it. The professor even mentioned that we should have something like that at Fordham considering that the university owns a few rowhouses surrounding the campus. That is when the gears began turning.

I mentioned the idea in an off-hand fashion during the Climate Impact Initiative meeting the following day. I explained that Union College, a school with a much smaller endowment and fewer students has townhouses across the street from its campus that all have different themes. O-Zone House, the sustainability-themed house, hosts cleanups, vegan lunches for the entire school, and other environmentally-themed events that make them an influential force on campus. I suggested that although we may not be able to just procure a rowhouse in New York City or convince Fordham to develop property in a way that would interfere with its bottom line, I think that the way O-Zone presents itself to the rest of the school should be a model for how the Climate Impact Initiative functions. While I was not surprised by the majority of leadership seeing the idea as pie in the sky, I am incredibly hopeful that the idea will carry on with the younger generation of leaders that will be running the club someday.

Overall, I left the Climate Impact Initiative with great feelings of hope that as each generation passes on leadership to the next we will be an indispensable force at moving sustainability at Fordham forward. I left more confident in my teamwork abilities. Most of all I left with a desire to continue to change the way Fordham operates. However transient I may have been during my time at Fordham, transferring from Rose Hill to Lincoln Center, then back to Rhode Island where I am finishing my degrees, it is still my educational home. When I come back to New York City, as I am certain I will, I hope that I will be able to keep my lines of communication and interaction open with Fordham University, even as I plan to look elsewhere in New York City for my graduate education. I hope and pray that I get into Columbia because if that's the case Fordham is only a 20-minute subway or commuter rail line away.

WC: 992

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i-like-old-things · 3 years ago

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Sure! It’s my time to shine!!!! (Also for you @thejamdergod and @miss-gonna-be-alright-someday ) Sorry it took so long btw

Charles Thomson was from a man County Derry, Ireland. Born on November 29, 1729, he is most known for his role as the sole Secretary of the continental congress with his career in that position spanning from the very first meeting of the First Continental Congress in 1774 (a few days after he got married) until the last day the country was using the government under the Articles of Confederation in 1789 (he also served as secretary during the constitutional convention). His last mission in his position (oh look at how that rhymed) was to go to Virginia to inform George Washington that he had won the very first presidential election in the United States of America (there was actually a Jeopardy question about that a little while back and Thomson’s name was mentioned).

Some more general information will be under the cut

I will just be doing bullets here

- He immigrated to the colonies when he was 10 after his mother passed away. Unfortunately, his father died within sight of the Delaware coastline and the captain of the ship took everything from Charles and his brothers (some of his siblings were left behind in Ireland)

- Charles went to live with a blacksmith and started learning the trade. He was very very good at it, enough where the blacksmith was thinking of making Charles become an apprentice under him. However, Charles heard this and didn’t want to be an apprentice because he thought he had more potential with learning and decided to run away

- On the way, he met a mysterious lady (there is no information as to who she was) that befriended him very quickly and she eventually sent him to study with Dr. Francis Allison, one of the most highly regarded teachers in the colonies at the time

- When Charles went to study with Dr. Allison, he met many other future important politicians, including his future cousin-in-law and dear friend, John Dickinson

- Charles was a really good student but I’m not going to go into depth about what exactly happened while he was a student (you can find out most of that in the books I mentioned in my source list that’s pinned)

- After being a student, he held multiple teaching positions, mainly teaching Latin

- His first secretary position was for the Treaty of Easton during the French and Indian War (aka 7 Years War). He was selected by a tribe leader, named Teedyuscung, as secretary because of his reputation for telling the truth (if people would see his name on something, they’d say “here comes the truth” or “it was a true as if Charles Thomson’s name was on it”). The tribes approved of Thomson and symbolically adopted him into their tribes with the name meaning “the man who tells the truth”

- During that treaty, Thomson saw, first hand, the mistreatment of the tribes at the hand of the British and actually wrote a pamphlet (it’s mentioned in my sources list that’s pinned) that Ben Franklin published in England that spoke out against the treatment of the indigenous people in the colonies. This sparked his anger with the British and influenced his future Patriotic beliefs

- Eventually, he decided to be a merchant and was one of the most outspoken advocates for anti-importation in Philadelphia (it was not as successful as it was in Boston)

- Charles Thomson was the leader of the Philadelphia equivalent of the Sons of Liberty (he was also called “the Sam Adams of Philadelphia” by many people, including John Adams)

- Somewhere in this time period, Charles married for the first time to Ruth Mather. There’s not much information on their relationship but we do know that at some point they did separate and Ruth then died after giving birth to Charles’ only children (they were twins). The twins also did not survive

- He continued his politics and he and John Dickinson were like the Patriotic Duo — Dickinson was the conservative and Thomson was the radical

- Then on September 1, 1774 (I believe) Charles Thomson married his second, and final, wife, Hannah Harrison. Hannah is amazing but I won’t talk too much about her since I’m supposed to talk about her husband. But it is believed they met through the Dickinsons since John and Charles were besties and Mary, John’s wife, was cousins with Hannah. Hannah and Charles had no children but one of their servants (not slave. Hannah freed all of the slaves on Harriton and Charles was an abolitionist who, unlike most at the time, actually didn’t own slaves) was like a son to them

- September 5, 1774: First Continental Congress! I won’t go too much in depth about what happened while he was in congress just because this post is already too long but the sources list will have more stuff on that. He was chosen as secretary for both congresses unanimously but he was never chosen as a delegate (many people in PA thought he was too radical so they picked his conservative bestie, John Dickinson instead)

- Charles Thomson was the second person to sign the Declaration of Independence and one of the few people (possibly the only one??) to witness John Hancock signing it. Contrary to popular belief, the Dec of Independence wasn’t signed by everyone at once and to get it to the colonies to be ratified, they needed a witness and Thomson was there so he signed it. He also possibly carried the Dec with him everywhere he went until he handed over all of his official documents to the new federal government when he retired

- Charles Thomson DID NOT write the final copy. The person who penned it was one of Thomson’s assistants who actually had been in debtors prison

- Thomson was friends with spies who are shown in Turn! (They are Patience Wright and James Rivington — Rivington actually informed Thomson that Washington was going to get poisoned at this one location and so while Washington did not go, Thomson did and his foot was poisoned. Thankfully it didn’t do much to him)

- After he retired from public life, he still kept in contact with money government people including: Washington, Jefferson, Madison, John Jay, and more

- When he retired, he stayed at his wife’s estate (she actually had over $1,000,000 modern US Dollars when she married him) called Harriton (originally called Bryn Mawr) in Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania. He lived there until his death

- He was a beekeeper at Harriton and did a lot with agriculture

- In his final years, he translated the Septuagint (the Greek Old Testament) into English. It was the very first Bible to be translated in the United States

- Thomson was asked, on numerous occasions, to create a memoir of sorts about the Revolution because he was able to experience it in its entirety. Unfortunately, Thomson refused and actually destroyed many of his papers to protect the dignity of the people involved (which I hate)

- Charles Thomson, at the age of 94, died on August 16, 1824 (actually during Lafayette’s tour of America). According to reports, he was physically fine but his mind was not completely there which leads me to believe he might have had some sort of dementia but what am I to say, I’m not a doctor just a person who asks questions

Ok so that was much longer than anticipated so sorry if that was too much information. If you want to learn more you can also look at the source list or do some research on your own. Oh and if you have anything to add to this post, please do

My family: *talking about how the founding fathers owned slaves*

My dad: they all owned slaves

Me: well Charles Thomson didn’t

My family: *completely ignores me*

Me, internally: wow not even my own family appreciates Charles Thomson

#I didn’t proof read so sorry if there’s grammatical or spelling errors #charles thomson #history #amrev #american history #american revolution #us history

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kashmiresims · 7 years ago

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Blacklisted

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Reggie found himself back at a coffee shop. It didn't matter which one around the campus he stumbled into on Sunday morning, he just needed the caffeine. Preferably to-go because he wanted to get a head start on fixing up his robot and install the audio component.

He'd felt like a weight was on his chest ever since he left Alanna and Shane there so they could troubleshoot Shane's robot. Alanna would never consider it, because she was just being helpful, but she was actively working against Reggie by helping Shane. Only one robot would make it to the collegiate competition from the Sim State robotics program. Reggie was hoping it would be his spybot, but there was no doubt Shane was a heavy contender.

He didn't feel right either, with how they had parted. He got the distinct feeling she was miffed with him as soon as he'd snapped out at her.

He also could not shake the sight of Franz Schoulsburg running from the premises of the fight night location. Reggie had stayed up very late wandering around the seedy back streets of Scandalica City looking for that place.

Reggie had missed the event by only about fifteen minutes but found out from the spectators that had been present that the next fight was tonight. He would go again now that he knew where it was exactly and see if Franz was actually one of the fighters--that was Reggie's assumption anyway, and if his theory was correct, it would be proof enough to show Alanna that he had been right all along about Franz's violent nature. Then maybe she'd drop her blinders and stop hanging around Franz once and for all. Some charity cases just weren't worth it.

Reggie paid for and received his coffee in a container and was about to head out to the engineering building to get to work when an obnoxious voice reached his ears. It oozed with faux charm and had a slight whine to it. He turned an eye toward the sound and saw Marshall Cosgrove trying to hit on a girl that looked to be minding her own business.

Reggie frowned slightly. He knew Marshall; their fathers had been friends for years and had even gone to college together. They were in Hoh Fruhm together. Which was why it infuriated Reggie to no end that he still wasn't in the Greek society. He was legacy! He had the right to be in that fraternity but yet kept getting denied membership. He should have gotten in as easily as Marshall.

Marshall went to the prep school in Isla Del Kashmire so Reggie and he never really had the chance to be friends in their youth but looking at him, Reggie doubted he could tolerate Marshall's company for more than five minutes.

"Hey, um Marshall?" Reggie said to catch his notice. Marshall and his frat buddy turned their attention toward Reggie; Marshall recognized him immediately despite not having seen each other for a few years.

"What do you want, Orbinson?"

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" Reggie asked, making a slight nod toward behind him where they would be on the other side of the wall out of earshot from others. Marshall looked highly inconvenienced but sauntered over to where Reggie was. Reggie kept unconsciously tightening and loosening his grip on his coffee container. He wasn't scared of Marshall, but was a bit nervous. Marshall always played up the 'son-of-an-important-man' card well and had the seamless confidence to go with it, plus he was Hoh Fruhm's chapter president.

"Can't you see I was having a lovely conversation?" Marshall bit with annoyance and gestured toward the girl who now was being hit on by Marshall's frat brother. She looked kind of miserable, in Reggie's opinion.

"Sorry, but I heard there was an opening at Hoh Fruhm," Reggie said. He'd actually overheard it at this very coffee shop.

Marshall rolled his eyes, seemingly remembering the events that had led to the vacancy, "Yeah so?"

"So, I was wondering if you could take a look at my application—maybe get me voted in this time," Reggie said and Marshall seemed to consider the request for a few seconds before he belted out a sardonic laugh.

"No way, Orbinson. You have like a zero percent chance of getting in," he said, pulling his laugh into a serious frown and holding out his hand in a clear gesture that he wouldn’t reconsider. Reggie felt his gut fall in disappointment before it was replaced with heavy frustration at not understanding why.

"But I'm legacy!"

"Listen, I'm not supposed to let you in. So, I'm not."

Marshall began to return to what he had been doing before but Reggie actually reached out and grabbed him by his shoulder, "What are you talking about? Who told you to blacklist me?"

Instead of giving a straight answer, Marshall shrugged Reggie off in the same annoyed manner and replied sharply--"Why don't you ask your father?"

What. The. Fuck.

Marshall's cryptic answer left Reggie reeling with questions but the conversation was done as far as the fraternity president was concerned and so Reggie was left standing there while his coffee turned cold.

Robotics would have to wait.

Reggie wanted answers.

He hurriedly drove to the business district of Scandalica City since he'd tracked his father's location to the city hall. It was a Sunday, and the man really shouldn't have been working, however, since it was an election year, his father put in constant overtime to run a campaign and do government business simultaneously.

Parking was, thankfully, easy since it was the weekend. He finished off his coffee and tossed the container into a trash bin outside of the city hall before he started up the stairs to the entrance.The caffeine was hitting him now. He felt very energized, like he was on a mission.

His father had been mayor since Reggie was in junior high, so Reggie knew the ins and outs of the building quite well. He had even been a city hall page and interned a couple of summers to get extra credit for his government classes. As the only Orbinson son, he'd been groomed for a political life—taking debate, running for student council, participating in youth leadership workshops—yet he still didn't know if that was his true calling. He just hadn't found anything better yet.

As he took the corridor up into the East wing toward the mayor's office, he passed an open door and a beat later a stern voice carried out to him, "Reginald Orbinson, where do you think you are going?"

He froze in place before taking a few steps backward and sheepishly peered into Millicent Conway's office. Though her voice had sounded stern, she still had a playful spark behind her eyes when she regarded him.

Millicent was his father's assistant and had been for many years, even before his dad was the mayor. She was just out of college when she was hired on to work on Lawrence Orbinson's first campaign for the position. Reggie remembered having the biggest crush on her in his adolescence, mostly based on how pretty she was, and it was a fact she still looked very well for her age.

"I was just...going to see Dad."

"He's busy."

"He's expecting me," Reggie insisted. He had even called beforehand and told him he was on his way.

Millicent twisted her steely features into thoughtful consideration and then stood, gathered up an armful of books, and said, "Fine, but I'll lead you in. It's my job."

Reggie made a groan with a highly exasperated nature. Couldn't they forgo formalities? It was Sunday after all. He let her walk past him and followed, knowing that arguing with her was pointless.

"You're in college now, right?" She asked as she lead him down the remainder of the corridor.

"Yeah, a junior."

"What's your major? Oh, let me guess. Political Science."

Reggie's silence was telling so Millicent nodded to herself, "figures." Then she made a small gasp followed by a grumble, "Shoot, I forgot to grab him a coffee."

She gave a few knocks on the double door to the mayor's office and they heard him bid them enter.

"Here's those books you requested," Millicent walked straight in and delivered them to the top of his desk, "I also brought you your wayward son."

"Take a seat, Reginald," his dad requested and Reggie removed his messenger bag and set it on the sofa next to him as he fell into it.

Lawrence Orbinson's office was grandiose. Decorated with a rich blue theme; there were fresh flowers in tall vases, long drapes, and a new addition was the large rug that covered most of the room that was a gift from Takemizu's ambassador. He had stacks of papers next to his computer and Reggie figured that's what was keeping him here on a Sunday.

"Coffee?" The mayor raised an eyebrow at his assistant, seeing it was missing.

"Sorry sir, I forgot it when I grabbed the books—but I can go get you one—" Millicent admitted but was interrupted by a dismissive wave of the mayor's hand.

"Don't worry yourself. Go home and relax; I shouldn't be keeping you here over the weekend anyway but your help is very much appreciated."

"Thank you, sir," Millicent seemed entirely relieved and quickly left, eager to have the rest of the day free to herself after weeks of overtime assisting the mayor.

In Reggie's opinion, Millicent deserved a break. He couldn't imagine it was easy keeping up with his father's demands.

"I take it whatever you wanted to speak to me about was of utmost urgency for you to come down here on a holiday weekend," his father said as he started taking papers off their stacks and signing them. He didn't glance up at his son, but maintained an open ear while he was busying himself with other matters.

Well, to be fair, Reggie didn't have any holiday plans except building more on his robot. He wasn't the type to go to Kashmire Point, hit the night clubs, or go out with friends—because he didn't really have any. He did want to play more Rush Hour, but his best opponent hadn't been online for a few days and he kept winning all his matches. That reminded him that he needed to explore more on his theory that Violet_Fire could actually be Alanna because she had mentioned she was studying all weekend and that could have been the reason Violet_Fire was offline.

Anyway, Reggie had to push that question aside and focus on getting answers for a more vital one.

"I ran into Marshall Cosgrove this morning, and when I asked about the status of my Greek society membership, he told me I'm never getting it and to ask you why," Reggie folded his arms as his father finally, did briefly glance up but not with any amount of surprise. Reggie leaned forward with a pointed frown, "What did you do, father?"

His father returned his concentration on the papers in front of him, continued signing the current one and then set his pen down. Next, he pushed his chair back and stood up, walking around his desk and motioned Reggie to follow him.

Reggie also rose to his feet, curiously taking steps after his father before realizing they were going into the private room. It wasn't somewhere Reggie ever was allowed to be when he visited city Hall—to him it was just a door off to the side of the Mayor's office but he'd seen his father take private meetings inside it before. Whatever his father had to tell him, it couldn't be overheard by anyone and it caused Reggie to be very concerned.

The room was small, intimate, and had the original hardwood flooring from when the city hall was first built. There were two vintage sofas, a bookshelf, and most notably a dart board with his father's political rival's face tacked behind it.

His father picked out a handful of darts from their holder and stood back from the dart board.

This was no time for games! Reggie crossed his arms again and frowned while clearing his throat—impatient for an answer.

"A few years ago, legislation came across my desk—" His father finally started to say, throwing a dart hard at the board. It whizzed past Reggie and stuck three rings from the bulls-eye. "It concerned a partition of land in Isla Del Kashmire that was found to be the habitat of a rare species of squirrel."

Reggie tried very hard but failed to see what a rare species of squirrel had to do with him being denied a spot at the most prestigious fraternity at Sim State University.

"The naturalists were in a frenzy to get that protection law passed; they blasted this issue all over the media, it was suddenly a very unpopular prospect to deny these squirrels a protected home—therefore, the council rushed it through and the only thing delaying it was my signature," his father threw a second dart and it landed closer to the center target. Reggie wondered how much time his father played darts here in his private room.

"So, I signed it to avoid the backlash of public opinion."

"Nice story...but—" Reggie uncrossed his arms and started but his dad threw him a look that indicated he wasn't finished and silently admonished him for interrupting. Reggie folded his arms again with frustration.

"Pryce Cosgrove had been gunning for that exact same land for a development project—he said it would have vitalized the neighborhood but that project died as soon as the land went under park services' protection. Cosgrove lost out on millions of potential revenue and I thought our friendship was strong enough to survive this...but..."

Now it all started to make sense.

"...I never expected him to be so petty about the loss. Not only did he stop speaking to me, but he convinced Calhoun to run against me this election cycle, probably to only have that land protection repealed. I also suspect that he's instructed his son to deny your application to the fraternity."

The final dart was thrown but went off-kilter and ended up piercing the area right above Elm Calhoun's forehead in the poster behind the board. His father seemed unconcerned for the shoddy shot and went to retrieve his darts.

So, in a sense, Reggie's predicament was his father's fault. Really, how important was a species of squirrel? There were tons of them around and what did it matter if it was a different type than the rest? Unless it had laser-vision and could fly, Reggie couldn't care less. He was livid that his father was more worried about public perception than his son's future. It wasn't fair! Then an angry thought suddenly caught in his mind and he snapped, "So how come Evie got into the Cosgrove Scholarship House?"

The Cosgrove family funded a scholarship program and Evie received it her very first year at Academie Le Tour.

"I suppose she was awarded that spot as a gesture of goodwill. She entered right about the time the legislation was being considered," his father ruminated and aimed his next throw. A small, wry, smile appeared on his face before he launched it, "Though can you imagine if Evie was denied? I doubt she would have accepted such a decision."

Reggie narrowed his eyes. What was his father implying? That Evie was more competent at being an Orbinson than him? Yeah right! He was a clean as a whistle and he doubted his parents even knew she was carrying on an affair with the maestro; it was so obvious the way she was always 'collaborating' with him, which she had been doing since she was eighteen. He just didn't get the appeal to why she kept it up all these years. His sister probably had many secrets that could ruin the family if unveiled.

He had to admit, his dad still had a point—Evelyn Jane, for all her scheming and manipulations, had always been very good at getting what she wanted. So, in this situation, the question now was W.W.E.J.D? The answer was quite clear—Reggie couldn't stand by anymore and simply hope things would go his way. He would have to actively make it so, by any means necessary.

#ts2 #sims 2 #NOV arc #kashmire sims #ts2 Story #my shots

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joyful-voyager · 8 years ago

Text

An Outrageously Long-Winded Political Rant

Just me, bored at work and getting crap off my chest ahead of the End of the World, coming Friday to a country near you. "The Myth of Individual Exceptionalism" January 18, 2017 There’s an episode of the TV show “The Office“ in which a main office guy calls a satellite office guy to tell him he’s been promoted to a management job. I’m fuzzy on the details of character names and backstories; I’ve only ever caught a few moments of the show while my teenage daughter binge-watches it on Netflix. Anyway, the front office guys says to the satellite office guy, “It’ll be nice to have another M.B.A. around.“ The first few times I happened to catch that exchange, it made me chuckle. The writers managed to tap into something that everybody who has ever worked in a low-level, non-management office position knows: Upper management thinks that just because someone has those three little letters behind their name – M.B.A. – that person is automatically better suited to a high level position in the company than someone who has actual experience within the company, or than someone who knows how to perform the company’s core function — in this case, selling paper. It used to make me chuckle. It doesn’t anymore. Another anecdote, this one from my childhood. My Dad was a Korean War vet who wanted to go to engineering school when he got back from overseas, but couldn’t afford it. He rose through the ranks of his company as an apprentice, learning the craft of tool and die making at the elbow of experienced designers. He eventually earned the designation of Master Mechanic and was fairly high up in his company. When his boss, who had also risen through the ranks from apprentice to Master, retired, there was an unexpected change in corporate policy. The managerial position Dad was ready to assume suddenly required a degree he didn’t have and, at age 55, was unlikely to earn. Someone else – someone younger, with that all-important engineering degree but no experience in the field – was brought in for the management position my Dad had been promised for years. My Dad reviewed his options, hedged his bets, and took early retirement. Within a year, he was freelancing his job back to the company because no one there knew how to do what he did. Final anecdote. Years ago there was a massive corporate shakeup at a company where I used to work in a low-level marketing position. The Board wiped out most of the executives in one massive cut, the company was sold, and within a few months we had our third CEO in six years. This new CEO was, you guessed it, young and dynamic. He’d had great success as a high-level exec at a company that specialized in credit card processing. My field, and the company I worked for then, had absolutely nothing to do with credit card processing. But because this guy came from the credit card industry, our top corporate priority was suddenly not what was in our mission statement. Nope. Our number one priority was to get consumers to pay us using their credit cards so that we could enroll them into an auto-renewal program … which we on the ground level knew our customers wouldn’t like. Not one bit. That CEO didn’t last very long. These three anecdotes highlight what I’ve come to call The Myth of Individual Exceptionalism. This is the idea that someone who has had great success in one field must have achieved that success not by knowing that field exceedingly well, or by being part of a team that worked together to propel a company to success, or even by being related to someone on the Board. No, a truly exceptional individual achieves success simply because he or she is exceptional. And that exceptionalism translates to everything that person touches. Obviously. Got an M.B.A.? You must be great at everything. You could take that M.B.A. and run a department at a company in any field. Never mind that you started in, let’s say, publishing, and now you’re managing a construction crew. Your M.B.A. makes you fit to manage anyone, anywhere, at any time. You are better than the ground-level guy with decades of experience because you have that advanced degree. Likewise, my Dad’s decades of experience as a tool and die maker clearly couldn’t hold a candle to his replacement’s degree in engineering. “But it means that guy could learn!” I hear you thinking. And yes, there may be some truth to that. The problem was that the company didn’t have time to wait for the degree holder to learn his job, which is why the rest of the designers, who knew what the problem was, convinced the young guy to give my Dad a freelance contract. (And I owe them my thanks. He nearly doubled his income and was able to put me through college entirely on those freelance contracts.) Finally, the CEO of a credit card company can absolutely run a book publishing business. Of course! He got to be CEO by being exceptional, not by knowing anything about credit cards. It’s obvious! He is an Exceptional Individual, and so he can do anything! I find this ridiculously silly. Look. Bo Jackson notwithstanding, we generally do not assume that someone who can play one professional sport at a high level can play all professional sports at a high level. Given his size, I’m sure Michael Phelps is a beast on a basketball court. But could he outscore Steph Curry? I doubt it. Serena Williams is a hell of a tennis player, but could she replace Abby Wambach on the US Women’s National Soccer team? Unlikely. So why do we think the CEO of Company X is fit in any way, shape, or form to be the CEO of Company Y, when the two companies’ core functions have nothing to do with each other whatsoever? Why do we think a person who is exceptional in one field will have the same success in a different field altogether? And who the hell thought letting Anne Hathaway and James Franco host the Oscars was a perfectly sane idea? Which brings me to the rise of Donald Trump. During the long and nightmarish campaign, I was an outlier among my friends. I was convinced Trump was going to win the election, and while there were a lot of factors that made me think that – not least of which was the notion that people are kind of dumb and kind of racist and just flat-out detest Hillary Clinton – there was one thing that kept standing out to me. I kept hearing otherwise intelligent, thoughtful people saying things like, “We need someone who will run the country like a business.“ Every time I heard that, it made my hackles rise. Because I knew they didn’t mean, “We need someone who will run the country like the independent auto shop down the block, where my guy Keith schedules the work, delegates the jobs, trains new mechanics, checks each finished project himself, and still manages to balance the books every year and keep the shop open even though there’s a new Tires Plus down the street.” No, I was pretty sure what they meant was, “We need an Exceptional Individual who will run the country like a giant corporation that throws its weight around the marketplace and makes other companies bend to its will.“ Right? Isn’t that what you heard? Didn’t you hear that voters wanted someone who would make deals without messing about with all that sticky red tape of diplomacy and habeus corpus and international law and such? Because that’s what I heard. What I heard was that people honestly thought that Donald Trump’s (questionable) business success would translate to politics. That notion shows an incredible lack of understanding of both business and politics. But because he’s an Exceptional Individual (i.e., a fabulously wealthy and therefore, at least in the American worldview, successful person), he’ll be exceptional at everything. I’m sorry, but that’s insane. But it doesn’t stop there. Take a look at his Cabinet picks. We have some Exceptional Individuals who are in no way, shape, or form qualified for the positions he’s appointed them to. Ben Carson is an exceptional neurosurgeon. Why in the name of all the gods would anyone think that makes him qualified to run the Department of Housing and Urban Development? His exceptionalism in his field does not translate to his new position. Betsy DeVos? Fabulously wealthy, and in this country, a fabulously wealthy person is automatically an Exceptional Individual, right? Capable of anything because of innate exceptionalism? But did you hear her non-answers in her confirmation hearing? Not only did this woman never serve as an educator or school administrator, I’m not sure she ever set foot in a classroom, not even as a student. She is incredibly ignorant. Rick Perry? Rick Perry? We’re going to make this bumbling fool the head of the Department of Energy – a position that requires a science background – because he is the ex-Governor of a state that has a lot of oil? I’m not sure Donald Trump has any idea what the DOE actually does. And I’m certain Rick Perry doesn’t! But, hey! Rick is an Exceptional Individual. He’s better than all of us. He has to be. He’s an ex-Governor with great hair! His exceptionalism alone makes him fit for the position. I could go on … and on … and on … but I won’t. I’m as worried about Trump’s swamp full of sycophants and bootlickers as much as the rest of the country, not to mention his VP, the dead-eyed dominionist Mike Pence, and his creepy sons, plastic daughter, and entirely-too-gleeful son-in-law. (And don’t even get me started on the racism, misogyny, xenophobia, and ableism. Oh, and the fact that he is almost certainly financially beholden to the Russian government.) But I’m also worried about American voters and the way they’ve bought into this Myth of Individual Exceptionalism. Because it just isn’t true, not in any meaningful way. Our collective belief in this uniquely American myth has given way to the rise of larcenous megachurch pastors and rapacious corporate CEO’s, priests who molest kids, college athletes who rape women (and the police officers and judges who exonerate them), and big-box corporations that destroy local competition and offshore jobs in the name of the bottom line. We Americans have an unfortunate tendency to put individuals and organizations on lofty pedestals, tell them they can do anything because they are exceptional, and cheer wildly when they succeed. We’re baffled when they fail because they have upended the story we told ourselves, that Exceptional Individuals will always succeed because they are inherently better than the rest of us. And when they do something truly heinous – when an NFL player beats his girlfriend, when a college athlete rapes his unconscious victim, when a corporate CEO leaves a company in shambles and walks away with an eight-figure bonus – we can’t help but rationalize their behavior or just look the other way because those things conflict with our belief that wildly successful individuals cannot be immoral. Because if they were immoral, they wouldn’t be successful. Folks, Donald Trump is not an Exceptional Individual. He is a mean-spirited, petty, thin-skinned, ignorant, immature man-child. He’s a mediocre businessman who has managed to parlay his inherited wealth into the Trump Brand that gets his name all over everything. In this country where appearance is everything and depth is distrusted, he has achieved the biggest success there is: Omnipresence. He is the individual equivalent of Starbucks, Inc. He is on every TV and website. He has dominated our national discourse for 18 solid months. He is Everywhere You Want to Be even more than MasterCard. He has achieved the highest expression of Individual Exceptionalism there is in America. That doesn’t mean he’s going to be a good president. In fact, it probably means he will be one of the worst presidents in American history. He believes so fervently in this myth that he’s appointed people because of who they are, because of their perceived exceptionalism, rather than what they know how to do. To someone whose entire worldview is built on the idea that some individuals are better than others – look up Trump’s quote about “good genes“ and prepare to be appalled – a man who is already a successful neurosurgeon will be able to head up HUD in his sleep. A woman who is worth a personal fortune – a palpable symbol of exceptionalism – is certainly qualified to be Education Secretary. The fact that she destroyed public education in the state of Michigan is surely an aberration. What’s the point of all this? Well, mostly I wanted to get it off my chest. But I also wanted to ask something of my fellow Americans. I would respectfully request that you look to the individuals that you most admire and ask yourself what they have really done to earn your admiration … and what would it take for them to lose it. Donald Trump, for all his ignorance and arrogance, understands the American Myth of Individual Exceptionalism. He knows that it would take a lot for an American to denounce someone he or she had put on a pedestal. In fact, he’s counting on it. In January of 2016, almost one year to the day ahead of the inauguration of our nation’s 45th president, he articulated it in one of his rare full sentences: "I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose voters.” In less than 48 hours, this man will be the most powerful person in the world. If that doesn’t terrify you, you’re not paying attention.

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