#or go back to school so you can apply to be a pharmacy tech or RN or some shit

[batgirlfangs]

it's so awesome when jobs immediately reject your application even if you're sure you could get it

[yanderemommabean]

You have no idea when I saw your status change from 2 months to 6 hours ago. I audibly gasped!! I'm so so sooo glad you're doing okay and out of that awful situation, as someone who did the exact same thing at 16, it's really hard at first, getting things sorted out and moving out for the first time is definitely stressful, but as you said it will feel like home once the dust settles. Also is there any way we could send money your way to help out? Best wishes momma!!!

I'm happy to try and be back! I'm feeling myself out more, I've come to find that some stuff that used to squick me doesn't so much anymore, and I've come to feel like I'm allowed to rest without guilt, allowed to eat without being berated, and so on! Sammy's vet bill is my main concern, but Im thinking of opening coms again soon after I get some things figured out on how I wanna go about it and how I wanna change some stuff up! I'll link my Ko-fi here and on my pinned message for peeps who are curious on where to donate and such if you want! But don't feel pressured!

ko-fi.com/mommabean Im currently looking for pharmacy tech jobs, as I graduated a training school recently while sickly but still managed! I just dont have the PTCB yet, but I know I can apply for a certificate and work for about two years (or less? Ill re-look into it, things get messed up) before having to reapply and what not. (again, could be COMPLETELY off but the jist is im job hunting lol) No ones called back yet and while im hopeful, I also know how the job market is more of a dead internet thing at this point. Sorry for the ramble! Im just happy to talk and what not!

I hope you have a wonderful day bean <3 you're very sweet!

-Mommabean

[xenospacebabe]

Broken Wings pt2.

A/N: Ya’ll thanks so much for the positive reaction to my first drabble! A few of you asked me to continue it so I think I’ll make this a little bit of an ongoing thing. Enjoy! Also, I’m doing this all from my phone, so I can’t do page breaks. Apologies to anyone just scrolling by!

Summary: After breaking one of his wings, Hawks breaks into an animal clinic for some help. Little does he know that the doctor there would occupy his mind this much.

For some reason, this had been the longest week in your career. Your techs noticed that you were a little bit distracted in the moments of downtime between patients. But they knew better than to pry into your personal business, history proved that you had a very solid separation between work and real life. You never mixed business with pleasure and it made you a better doctor, in your opinion. It helped you focus more intently on your patients and their care.

That being said, even the most complicated cases couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the winged hero who essentially broke into your clinic for a broken wing. You wondered if he was taking your advice by resting his wings and his body. However given that he was the number 2 hero, you knew that probably wasn’t very likely.

After the last surgery of the day was finished, and the last client was out the door, you and your technicians cleaned up the clinic so they could all go home. First to arrive last to leave, today was no different. But today you showed up early just in case Hawks-...Keigo.. decided to drop by before you opened for a check-up. And when he didn’t, you were frustrated with disappointment you felt. You remained hopeful that he would appear tonight.

By the second hour after closing and no sign of the pro hero, you felt your heart hanging in your stomach. So with a heavy sigh, you started checking hospitalized patients to make sure they had what they needed and turning off lights. Though just as you had given up and opened the side door to leave, you were greeted with a full vision of giant wings.

He was there.

“Keigo!” You yelped out in excitement, the smile on your face illuminated the space between you.

“Hey Doc.” His voice drawled, smirking. He liked how happy you looked to see him. It made his heart flutter in a funny way. “Miss me?”

“Maybe. Come inside, we’ll get you checked out.” You retreated back into the clinic and he brushed past you. The discouragement you felt earlier faded away with every passing second and was replaced with pure joy.

Keigo followed you into exam and leaned onto the counter, sharp eyes trained on you with a bright intensity. You weren’t able to put your finger on how it made you feel when his gaze was headstrong on you. Nervous? Excited?

“So, how are you feeling? Any pain or numbness?” Right to business. He admired that about you. Instead of fawning over him and tripping over your words, you were calm and composed. At least, that’s what you wanted him to think. Inside, you were in chaos.

“Ehh...not really. It’s sore but that’s about it.” The wing in mention shifted slightly. You noticed that the splint you had placed was in really good condition. Save for a few rubbed spots where you assumed he was trying to scratch. That meant he was resting, taking your advice in stride.

“You know, there’s no secret cameras or microphones here. You don’t have to pretend.” He froze in place, his expression stilled with shock. Keigo hadn’t realized he was being that transparent. But honestly, it was easy to see. The bags under his eyes indicated he wasn’t sleeping well. Or at all. You waited for a response. This wasn’t uncommon. Pet parents lied all the time to make it seem like they weren’t making any mistakes when their animal was sick. But honesty helped you help them. And eventually, they would always relent.

“Damn, it’s that obvious huh?”

“Oh yeah. So, spill it.” Your hands slowly reached for the wing to get a feel of the splint. It needed a few adjustments which could be easily done.

“It uh...aches. And it’s really dull and ongoing. But it goes away. I can handle it.” Nodding along to his explanation you fished into a drawer beside him for scissors, another roll of tape, and a few pads of gauze.

“I can write you a script to fill at a pharmacy for some relief. And don’t think of telling me no. Is the pain ever sharp?” He nodded quietly.

“Is that bad?” You gingerly removed the tape and padding from the existing splint, making sure to not pull on his feathers or apply unnecessary pressure to the break.

“No, so long as it doesn’t keep up and you don’t have any fevers or anything like that. If you don’t care, I want to get another xray to see where we’re at as far as healing goes.”

The hero grinned, looking so smug and you didn’t know why. He leaned in close, his nose only a few inches away from yours. From this short distance you could really see how rich the golden color of his eyes were, just like an actual hawk. However, the stare she was getting wasn’t from just any bird. It was from this handsome, charming pro hero who make your insides squirm.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt all you had to do was ask.” The redness came to your face in a rush and you suddenly felt hot. The sound of his chuckling only made your heart race and palms sweat.

“I-I-...it’s just easier-...we don’t have to-...”

“Relax, I’m kidding~” You sighed as he removed his jacket followed by the top of his hero uniform. His skin was significantly less bruised, you noticed. The cuts and abrasions were healing very well. However, in taking in the state of his wounds, you didn’t realize that you were staring.

Keigo’s physique was so clean and cut that you couldn’t help but wonder how his skin felt beneath your palms. What the heat of his body felt like. Eventually, you became aware of your unwavering stare and cleared your throat to break the awkward silence.

Several moments and a few xrays later...

“Okay, so everything is starting to bond the way it should. See the humerus here?” Your finger pointed to the bone with a jagged fusion starting. He nodded to indicate he understood. “It’s still pretty unstable so will need to remain splinted. But that’s normal for a break like this.”

Shouldering his jacket and slipping his arms into the sleeves, he popped the collar back up into place before sighing.

“Right, still grounded.” The tone of his voice seemed sad but you were understanding of why. For someone with as little freedom as Keigo, denying the one thing that made him feel liberated felt like a punishment.

“I’m sorry, Keigo. But you’re doing great so far. I’m really happy with the progress I’m seeing.”

The process of resplinting his wing was painful, but not as bad as it was the week before. You made sure to layer the gauze carefully so the bones would be cushioned and safe. Keigo admired how gentle your hands were, how soft your palms felt against his sensitive feathers. It took a lot of effort to remain composed around you. But as soon as you were done and your hands left him, he was left with a lingering sense of longing.

The hero followed you out and into your office where you sat down in the old chair that had been there almost as long as you’d been alive. He looked around and noticed all the pictures and belongings that decorated the walls and shelves. Honing in on one photo in the middle of the wall of a little girl holding what appeared to be a newborn foal, he looked back at you.

“Is this you?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. That was the first foal I ever helped my dad deliver when he was working with horses.” Keigo looked impressed and moved down the line of frames. Lots of smiling faces and memories.

“You were a cute kid, y’know?” Hands shifted into his pockets and he leaned against a filing cabinet. You scoffed and waved your hand dismissively. “No really. You grew up into a really beautiful woman. Inside and out.”

“Really?” You looked at him in confusion. Your hair was a mess and you were wearing yesterday’s mascara. Surely he was just teasing you like those boys did in elementary school. Always picking on you because you came to school with horses on your tshirts and nose always buried in books about animals.

“Well yeah. I don’t just let anyone put their hands on my wings and have my feathers, you know.”

“About that. Why did-..”

“I can’t explain it, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe, I guess.” You were thankful for the dim lighting of your small office so he wouldn’t see your cheeks blush. You weren’t used to compliments like that and it showed.

“So uh-...Same time next week, Doc?” He could sense your exhaustion and decided not to keep you here longer than needed. But even so, you visibly pouted at the thought of saying goodbye again. Without thinking, you found a sticky note and quickly scribbled something down before handing it to him. “What’s this?”

“J-just for emergencies. It’s my cell number. If you know...if you feel any pain or need anything while the clinic is closed.” As he looked at the numbers you wrote the prescription you mentioned earlier which he then accepted and slipped into his pocket.

“Heh alright. Maybe I’ll shoot you a text if I get lonely.” The panic on your face made him laugh. You really were cute. Why did he have to say it like that?

“Oh my god, just go!” You shrieked, shoving him out the door while he continued to laugh. However before he relented and disappeared, he turned quickly and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You stood still in stunned silence. Your skin tingled where his lips had been, fingers lifting to touch the spot in disbelief.

“See ya later. I’ll text you.” Keigo backed away down and disappeared into the dark alley. Leaving you standing there wondering if you had dreamed what just happened. Your heart raced, the pulse thundering in your ears

Oh no....

[babyboibucky]

Now personal: I'm simply existing at this moment, sis. Work has me at wits end and feeling disrespected and taken for granted (HMMMM WHY DOES THAT SOUND SO FAMILIAR) so I put together my resume and dropped it in a few locations (HMMMM) and now I'm waiting to hear back. First place already sent the dreaded no opportunities at this time email which... it wasn't one of my top wants so it's not a total loss.

Essentially I plan on going to get my pharmacy tech certification and I'm trying to find a job involving that. My talents are wasted at a dead end, no benefits, no put together management place. I applied as a reg clerk at the hospital nearby thinking foot in door for when I do get certified and possible school assistance. And its my top goal at this time despite being a rumored shitshow for patient treatment.

They had me send in an app and a release for a background check so I'm optimistic and trying to manifest this career opportunity.

Otherwise I've been doing artsy hobbies and hardly reading. And it's only in the last week I've really opened my tumblr app and started using it.

I’m so sorry you’re going through this, bestie!!! You’re not alone because I’m sorta going through the same shit with work because I’ve been looking for a new job and it’s just aldjslskdhsjd rejection after rejection I’m boutta rip all my hair out 😩 It’s so fucking hard to shift industries lasjkddkdlfkls

I hope everything works out for you soon, love!!! It can be so frustrating and I guess we just gotta manifest harder gdi. I love that you’ve been doing artsy hobbies! Take care of yourself always and take breaks every once in a while 💕

Ilysm!!! And I genuinely hope you find a better place to work at, one that’ll give you what you truly deserve, compensation and benefits-wise. And a good environment too, of course 😌

[letsgetsquiggly]

^^^ Going back in time here for the photo 30 day studyblr challenge. Day 1: A photo of your supplies My usual study culprits. We got all my D20's flipped up for good luck, and some kissy mew mew for vibes. We got this obligatory hipster mustard colored coffee cup and all the colors because sience is vibrant and I want my notes to reflect that.

Zoomester Studyblr Challenge Retroactively answering the prompts here. Day 1-Introduce yourself! What’s some basic info you’d like to share about yourself? Also! What are you studying? (If you’re in college, what’s your major? which semester are you in?) Hello all! I go by a couple of nicknames, Squiggles on the internet, and Katie IRL. I'm about as non-traditional as they come as far as students go. Alright, slighty more than some basic info,but my time going through college has been anything BUT basic. Out of high school, I went to college on a scholarship and majored in architecture. I moved out at 19 so I worked full time to make enough money to live, but to keep my scholarship I also had to attend college full time. As you can probably imagine, this didn't logistically work out super great for me. As was probably inevitable, I lost my scholarship and I became part of the college dropout statistics. I spent the next year just working and livin' life. After some weird twists of fate, I ended up at a trade school and became a pharmacy tech. I landed an externship in a hospital and ended up falling in love with the practice of medicine. I knew I'd want to move up in the world of medicine so I went and got an associate's degree and retransferred to the school I dropped out of. So, now I'm all graduated from undergrad with degrees in Biochemistry and Molecular Biology and am in process of prepping to apply to a couple of postgraduates options. My first choices are Medical School or a Master's in applied genetics for the genetics counselor program. I'm currently just studying for the main entrance exams to these programs, the MCAT and the GRE.

[cancerbiophd]

hello! i was looking through your career stories tag and was inspired to ask for some advice of my own. lately i've been feeling very lost in undergrad. in high school, i was super successful, had goals and stuck to them, and had a path in mind. however, i ended up revising that plan a million times, and now i feel super behind in comparison to my peers. i feel like i lack a ton of skills and that i'm not where i should be (1/2)

(2/2) do you have any advice? and do you/your followers have any stories about people who were successful, got stuck in a rut, but found their way back? i keep reading stories about people who didn’t do well in school then found a successful career, but i never hear about people who were successful in school, got lost, then recovered, and it makes me wonder if there’s hope for me

Hi anon! (Thanks for sending in that 2nd part again after tumblr ate it the first time round)

I fee like I took a similar path to you, and before I launch into my story, here’s my advice on some things you can try:

Break the bad habit of comparing oneself to others. We are all unique, with unique pasts, presents, and futures. To compare two people’s achievements or lack of achievements is unfair. That’s giving an experimental treatment to a sick person and another to someone already healthy and then comparing the results directly to each other. Not a good scientific study huh. Well, we should look at our lives like that too. It’ll take time and practice and a lot of active thinking, but let’s all try our hardest not to compare ourselves to others. We are all carving out our own paths. 

Talk to others with experience and get their insight. Talk to your professors, your counselors, your parents, your parents’ friends, and even older students (like me!). Ask them for advice. Ask them what opportunities you have. Ask them what career choices one can make with your interests and goals. Basically, broaden your knowledge of what’s out there in the world so you can find a niche to fit in. I really wish I had done this because I was very myopic in that “interest in biomedicine” = “clinical doctor or bust!”. I didn’t know that I could go to grad school to study cancer research and then go work in a biotech company (my current path and goal). 

Once you find a career path that interests you, try to experience what “a day in the life of” is like. Because something that sounds great on paper may not be a good fit in person, and vice versa. Options for this include: volunteering, internships, entry-level jobs, shadowing, informational interviews (where you talk to someone in the field in a casual setting and ask them what their job is like), and well-rounded research. Doing things like working in the field or even shadowing also gives you the benefit of learning transferrable skills that could help you on your next step. And that brings me to:

Take a gap year (or a few) if you feel like you need it, especially if you need to gain more experience in a certain field. It’s also a great way to give your body and mind a well-deserved break after decades of school! I took a gap year (well, 2.5 years) to work and get lab experience and it was the best. 

Do not give yourself a timeline. This sounds… counter-intuitive, but what I mean is: do not set goals like “dream job at age 30!!” “a house at age 31!!” because they may be a) unrealistic, and b) could set us up for disappointment. Also, we need to realize that we don’t know what the future will bring, and that it’s also ok to take one’s time. We’re all gonna live until we’re 70-80 anyway right? So let’s just take things one step at a time. We’ll set goals and work towards them, yes, but let’s not set deadlines for ourselves. We’ve had enough deadlines in school already! 

Don’t give up. Things will be ok. I know it’s not.. super helpful for me to say this, but it’s a real point to make. No matter what happens, keep trying. We can’t reach the light at the end of the tunnel if we stop walking forward, yeah? 

I hope those points are helpful. If you’d like more detail, or have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Alright, now to my story, because I feel like I may have gone through the same thing you’re going through right now, so I want to let you know that times may get tough like it did for me, but if you keep going and trying, things will eventually be ok:

Just like you, I was pretty darn successful in high school, also did well in college (like good grades, had goals and met them, etc). I always knew my path was going to lead me somewhere amazing, because that’s how I was brought up my entire life. Then I got stuck in a rut because my original plan A (med school) turned out to not be right for me, and then plan B also turned out not right either (pharmacy school), and then I got straight out rejected from plan C (physician assistant school). I even had to change my major 3 times because of my change of plans (well, one change was because the US recession hit and my college had to cut my original program ugh), so I had to really cram my classes into the summer. I graduated college with a degree that wasn’t going to get me where I wanted to (B.S. in Microbiology, and jobs were still hard to find because of the recession, and basically nowhere to go. I had no job and had no idea what to do (or what I really wanted, really). So I moved back home with a feeling of emptiness that no end in sight. 

My plan was basically to find a job that would open doors for me in the biomedical field. I even got my pharmacy tech license, and I was applying to receptionist positions at clinics. It got to a point where I was so desperate I interviewed to be someone’s personal assistant and they were like “you are way too qualified for this I can’t hire you”. 

And I was so confused as to how I could’ve ended up on the wrong path. I mean, I knew what I did wrong (I didn’t do those point of advice I gave earlier because I didn’t know I had to do them). But I didn’t know how it went so wrong. How did I go from straight A/B’s and proactive student leader in a bunch of clubs to unemployed with no concrete plan in sight? I was bright. I was a hard worker. A fast learner. I knew I could be good at anything I did. This rut I was in wasn’t really supposed to happen. And all the while my friends were going to grad/med school or starting successful careers–a fact my narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother would remind me of every. waking. moment. She would scream at me every day that I was an embarrassment, a disappointment, a “poor investment”, etc. The look of pure hatred she would give me–I have never seen that on another person’s face ever. I couldn’t even see my friends because she essentially put me on house arrest as “punishment”. 

It really was absolute hell. I was cleaning some old storage boxes recently and I found my old diary from that time, and inside was a note. It was a note of despair and resentment and an ending that may have happened… I don’t remember how I got the strength to keep going, but I think I had conjured up the slightest sliver of hope that night, put down my pen, closed the journal, and went to bed. 

So, I kept at it. I studied for the GRE, I looked up grad school programs, and I kept applying to jobs in the biomedical field. I got picked up by a temp agency that was hiring out contract workers to local science companies, and even interviewed for a few available positions. Things were looking a bit better. 

Then I saw a job ad on craigslist looking for a research tech at a lab at my old college. I applied, interviewed, and was turned down. Bummer. Then my mother (in a rare moment of helpfulness) asked a friend of a friend who was a PI in a research institute in Florida if they wanted a totally free unpaid intern. I had a skype interview and they accepted, and I was getting ready to move halfway across the country to be a volunteer with a Bachelor’s degree when I got an email from another new PI at my old college. She had gotten my application from the first PI who I had interviewed with and wanted to meet to see if I could be her research tech. And then literally a week before I was supposed to move to Florida that PI told me she wanted to hire me. Oh thank god. I had graduated in May, and got hired at this position in October. Even though it was only 5 months, it felt like forever for me to finally find my way out of the dark cave and back into the light. 

This PI did research on cancer biomarkers. Working in her lab was one of the best things to ever happen to me: I got the lab experience I was missing, I found a love for cancer research in particular, I applied for (and got into) grad school to study Cancer Biology, and I met a coworker who eventually became my husband (and you betcha we invited the PI to our wedding and asked her to give a speech lol). 

I graduate (hopefully) next semester with my PhD in Cancer Biology, and my husband and I plan on moving to Seattle (a biotech hub) afterwards. I plan on getting a post-doc position at the Fred Hutch Cancer Center, then a scientist position at a local biotech company, and then see where that takes me. Life is good now. Things really did turn out ok. 

I’m so glad I never gave up. 

And I hope you won’t give up either, anon. I pray you don’t have to go through anything as tough but! Yes there’s still hope for you! There is always hope

[joshslater]

The Cupbearer

This is a relay, doing a continuation of tamed-jock’s continuation of jd07201990′s story. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Infection+2:25

Let's write a captains log, like Tyler and I used to do, only this time I have actual observations and events to record. It is now approximately 2 hours and 25 minutes since he placed the cup on me. I immediately went home, and have done some preliminary studies of the object.

My most immediate concern is the attachment mechanism. I can really only think of three, suction, adhesion or some sort of mechanical attachment to my... thing. Observations are a bit limited as the object responds to stimulii. In the first instance when I grabbed it in the rest room there wasn't much of a response. The feeling was similar to that of a vacuum pull in the whole area, but I'm not feeling a constant force as I would expect from vacuum. Also, when the cup was applied it felt like it was filled with, or quickly filled up with a gel of some sort.

Wanting to rule out vacuum, or in best case break the vacuum and remove the object, I attempted to insert a narrow tube from my model steam engine in between the skin and the object. That did provoke a response. It felt like the contents of the cup was rapidly replaced or infused with icy-hot gel. This entry has been delayed by approximately 40 minutes, as I have been lying on my bed and desperately trying to avoid touching it. Every time I fail I get like a pulse of renewed icy-hot in the cup.

Infection+2:50

I've decided to avoid further experiments and focus on observation and external research. The cup itself appears to be mix of carbon fiber, titanium and some other fairly high tech materials. This points to high tech origin, but beside the logotype I find no other markings like brand, manufacturer, patents, serial number etc. My first attempts to Google this kind of product or stories from someone with similar experience come up short. I took a picture of the logo, cleaned it up and sent it through USPTO image search to see if anyone has a trademark on it, but came up empty as well.

It sure smells bad. I need to come up with an excuse for mum.

Infection+6:00

I told mum that I'm having my scent-month, as if every teenage boy has one. I said Tyler just had his, so if she checks with his parents they will confirm it. Why does it smell so bad though? It is clearly the cup that emits it, since the smell came on pretty strong only seconds after Tyler attached it. Is it distraction? Is it to mask something else? Is it to make the wearer body conscious or odor conscious and avoid contact with other people? Is it to acclimate the wearer to the smell? I don't see how I can answer any of these questions purely from observation though. Something to sleep on perhaps. How do you pee with this thing?

Infection+6:15

So the pee just kind of filters out in the lower part of the cup. If you want to use a toilet you have to basically sit on it reverse, do you thing, and then wait a few minutes for it all to drain out. A big drawback is that you have to step out of pants and boxers to even sit reverse on a toilet.

Infection+10:20

I think the damn thing just woke me up. Or I'm just have a restless night because of all that is happening, and more importantly what will happen. Fuck you Tyler!

Infection+12:05

It's definitely the cup that woke me. Just as I was waking up I could feel some sort of vibration down there. What other crazy shit have they packed into the device. My bedroom smells like a locker room. Thanks Tyler!

Infection+13:55

Fuck it, I'm getting up. I'll pee in the shower.

Infection+14:20

So that didn't work as well as I hoped. I could pee fine, but when I turned on the shower it was like pouring water in a gym shoe. If it smelled bad before, it absolutely reeks now. I think I'm gonna steal one of mum’s pads and tape it to the front, since it is still leaking God knows what and then wrap it in plastic and hope that contains the worst of it.

Infection+17:30

I didn't think of mobility enough. Jeans are clearly out of the question, so I went to school in chinos. It's bad enough that the cup is rigid, over sized and fully attached. Add to that some extra padding and cram it in chinos that aren't exactly lose to begin with, and you have something that looks funny stationary and awkward/hilarious when moving.

If I walk slowly I think I might come up with a gait that might be described as exaggerated jock sway, which would be step up from whatever ludicrous I'm doing now. Damn, I should have practiced yesterday.

I need to find some better pants, because these are too tight and restrictive.

Infection+21:30

My efforts to contain the smell isn’t fooling anyone, but I hope it just smells like I have a bad hygiene day. My crotch is a sauna though. The plastic wrap needs to go. Tyler kept his distance. I wonder if he is ashamed, or if he doesn't give a shit. Perhaps they have some sort of protocol he adheres to.

Day 2, 4:40 pm

Let's stop fucking around with the childish infection timer. This is serious. I found something sobering when doing some online patent search.

I was just blindly trying to find patents for any of the different things this cup does, and managed to find a description on "bio-polymer adhesion complex and application for individualized restriction control". I don't understand more than a fraction of what is written, but in the schematics there is a drawing of EXACTLY the cup I'm wearing. The list of example uses in the description includes prison inmates and persons under house arrest. This is a retrofitted fucking ankle bracelet.

It's originally designed to never come the fuck off through tampering. Fuck.

Day 2, 6:30 pm

Mum gave me some Vichy Laboratories excessive odor control deo roll on she bought at the pharmacy. Roll on to what, exactly? Well, she can only solve problems she knows about I guess. Should I tell her? Would she mind having a sports jock son? She would probably tell me to do whatever makes me happy. Would I be happy? Tyler certainly looks pretty fucking pleased.

Day 2, 8:20 pm

I've not spent that much time on wanking before. Like once or twice a month. But now that I can't my mind kind of wanders to it all the time. I've done some, let's call it research, that you can orgasm pretty well by putting something in your ass. Not doing that.

Day 2, 9:46 pm

Got some weird hot flashes in the cup while taking a shower. Smells as bad post shower as the last time. I don't know if it is the smell or I'm tired, but I went to bed early. I'm too hot and sweaty to fall asleep though.

Day 3, 2:12 am

Can I go to the police? This is clearly some sort of assault. Tyler would be the first one under the bus. Perhaps the coach. Probably not further than that. This is backed by serious money after all, so they will just protect themselves and their IP. Does it really matter though? By the time they've forced any action I've had this thing on me for a month, I've grown a donkey dick and gone completely mad. Much good some cash compensation will do then. And do I want to punish Tyler? Fuck yeah I want, but not like that. He's a victim too.

Go directly to a hospital then? If I can't figure out what this thing is or does, how would hospital staff be any better. They'll probably start cutting around it, and there is no telling how it will respond. It was designed to never come off, at least not without a fight. Probably horribly so, to set an example.

Day 3, 2:28 am

I'll try to sleep in the garden. It's cooler outside and doesn't stink.

Day 3, 4:51 am

Dozed off a bit I think.

I've been thinking about the construction of the cup. There are a some design details that has been nagging me. For something that small it appears to be almost magical in abilities and power storage. But then it hit me, it's not crammed packed with batteries, electronics, vials of chemicals and all other stuff you might need to build something like this.

It's biological. Perhaps not in the "alive" sense of an organism, but "alive" in the sense a virus is alive. It's a biochemical robot following instructions encoded in DNA, or something like it. If you consider it a manufactured parasite it all makes sense. It has access to the resources of a full human body and can leech heat energy and pee chemicals off the body indefinitely. The "bio-polymer" attach to the skin, and perhaps even have direct access to nerve impulses. There is really thin membranes in the dick, so it can probably send stuff directly into the blood stream as well.

Fuck.

Day 3, 9:36 am

I just realized I can't remember a thing that has been said so far in school today. I need to cum!

Day 3, 11:23 am

Becky spent her presentation on "Manspreading". She probably started working on the talk already last week, knowing her, but she clearly directed a lot of the points directly at me. Looked directly my way for most of the talk. No, Becky, I'm not subconsciously asserting dominance.

I CAN'T PHYSICALLY CLOSE MY LEGS, BECKY!

I found a different pair of chinos that works better, Becky. No matter what I do, there will be a pretty sizable bulge down there though, Becky.

Day 3, 14:02

God Dammit! The inside of the cup just went super cold 10 minutes into math class. I couldn't finish a single thing. Just not jumping and screaming was hard enough. It's mostly back to normal now, I think.

Day 3, 15:14

This is what I think happened. They started to test the cups on inmates. By mistake it started to leak chemicals or active DNA from the device into the inmates. They had tested the cup technology artificially before, on pigs perhaps, and hadn't seen these effects. But they didn't put it on the pig’s dick, did they.

So suddenly their inmate control device has turned into the worlds best slow release injector for men. Perhaps even the original formula made dicks grow. They just made the minimal needed changes and paid coach to start human trials on teenagers.

Then why the fuck do I need to keep this log? They must have so much more data on what is done to us to have a useful trial. I guess this might come in handy in the inevitable court case.

Day 3, 16:40

I'M SO HORNY ALL DAY.

I went to have a cold shower. If anything things just went even worse. How is this happening! FUCKING FUCK TYLER FUCK

Day 3, 20:18

Why do I have to do this? I know what the end point is going to be. A fucking dumb, arrogant jock dick. Assuming it is inevitable, and I don't see any way out, why not have it over and done with tomorrow. Just walk to the gallows and submit. Whatever that thing is doing, physically and mentally, is minimized the sooner it's off me. Back when Becky would speak with me she told me a rumor that the nerds gone jocks all had monster cocks. She didn't say anything about the regular jocks, so it probably is specific to this procedure.

And if they, the old jocks, are not joining up hand over fist to get such dicks, the procedure itself, or the side effects, must be pretty discouraging. Otherwise they would just cram the cup down their own pants.

Let's get rid of this thing first thing in the morning.

Day 3, 11:49 pm

Fuck, it vibrates.

I've been sweating balls, trying to sleep naked without any sheets. I was just sort of tugging at it, to see if I could feel anything in the dick, when it started to vibrate. It's been going for like 15 minutes now.

Day 4, 2:11 am

I smell.

The cup stinks, but I smell. While trying to ignore the humming dick I noticed that my armpits smell like moist gym bag.

I showered like 10 hours ago. That's never been a problem before, so it's definitively changing me somehow.

I fucking need this thing off me ASAP!

Day 4, 2:20 am

fucking god dammit it went ice cold again

Day 4, 7:38 am

So I went to the locker room. Once inside I realized I didn't really have a plan. What if they were not all in on it? I would appear like a lunatic, ranting about sci-fi balls cups. Turns out I didn't need to worry. First guy who saw me, Derek or Devin or something. Big guy, short buzz, looks intimidating. Anyway, he saw me and started shouting "You are not supposed to be here." I was like "I need to get something removed".

He walked up right into my face. "You are not on the list. Tyler fucked up so someone has to be punished. Fuck off!"

I hesitated to leave. He took one step forward, physically pushing me backwards and almost had me trip over. "GET OUT!" he shouted right in my face.

Day 4, 9:16

I've been locked inside the disabled toilet and crying since leaving the locker room. How long can I go with this thing on? You physically die after about a week without sleep, but it is letting me sleep in short bursts, so perhaps it could keep up indefinitely. I can't. I won't. Why shouldn't I just tell everything to mum, have her call the school, the coach, the press. Whatever is needed for someone to get this thing off me.

I should think this over carefully. But how is that possible if you are sleep deprived, horny AF and your dick is on vibrate mode? I can't stay here though. I'll walk home and tell mum first thing she gets home.

When I open the door, the first thing I see is Tyler, leaning against the opposite wall and smiling a smirk.

- Sup bro? - FUCK YOU! You ruined my life! - It was a shit one anyway. You should get another one. - That's not happening either, is it?

Suddenly I was bawling my eyes out. Exhaustion, sleep deprivation, rejection, horniness, anger. It was all coming together.

- Heyyy bro, come here.

I fucking hated him, but somehow I didn’t just bolt. I walked right into his arms and let him hug me. I realized that his change in appearance and personality had obscured his bodily changes. Just feeling his arms around me, I could tell he had gotten a lot stronger.

- You know Steve O'Conner in the chess club, right?

It was such an odd non-sequitur. I had to struggle a bit, but yeah, I'd helped him with a science project last year.

- A little bit, why? - I talked things over. Give him this and you are back on the list, second place.

He handed me another cup, packaged in a sealed, tearable plastic bag. I know I should feel sorry for Steve, but the only thing I could think of was my vibrating dick.

[lettersandinkstains]

WIP Re Introduction | The Three Steps of Romance

genre ; romance, slice of life,  lgbt, contemporary, contemporary romance themes ; navigating adulthood, unconditional love, semi found family, companionship, desires to escape, main female roles, main lgbt+ roles, loneliness, lgbt+ issues, self acceptance, transgender issues and rights, wlw romance, pride, longing, finding place in the world warnings ; some lgbt+ issues brought up -- mentioned homophobia and transphobia, but not from any main character (or loved ones), fluff, short romance, swearing, drinking.

pov ; dual first persons - alternating chapters progress ; planning stages, developing characters

#threestepromance #tsr

summary: “new town, new me” is a cliche mantra people say when they head somewhere new -- knowing they have the chance to reinvent themselves and leave their ghosts behind. for artemis, this saying is entirely true in every sense of the word. since her transition during vet school, she had always dreamed of getting away from the town she lived in and live entirely as herself even though her friends, family, and now ex girlfriend had been supportive of her. and when she found an opening for a needed vet in a small coastal town, she had immediately applied.

ember has always lived life through the camera, always off in her own world on an adventure in different parts of the world. there had never been a time in her life where she had felt at ease where she is, always bored and seeking thrill and daydreaming of meeting her future wife in a grand and unforgettable way. yet, she knows how impossible that is and knows that soulmates don’t exactly exist and questions the love at first sight notion.

until she meets artemis one night in a bar.

characters ;

artemis - 28 years old, lesbian, trans. she’s a laid back woman with a go getter attitude. she is a fan of olden day horror movies and works as a vet. she prefers dogs over cats, rainy days, and being able to sleep in. may or may not have a minor addiction to coffee.

ember - 27 years old, lesbian. a spunky woman with a heart of gold. she has a habit of talking too much, burning her food, and running late. the camera is her best friend, and lives entirely in a daydream. she wants to work for national geographic, but currently works for the local newspaper. has difficulties reading the atmosphere at times, and can be quite dramatic.

sky - 27 years old, bisexual, non binary. they’re ember’s closest friend, and has been since childhood. they tend to keep ember more grounded, and are generally supportive of her future dreams. they’re snarky and work as a vet tech at the same veterinary hospital as artemis does.

mason - 30 years old, gay, trans. newly engaged and always up for an adventure, mason is ember’s cousin. he tends to encourage embers’ more hyperactive side without meaning to. he works as a math teacher at the local high school.

ezekiel - 31 years old, gay, cis. he’s mason’s soon to be husband, and has kept his rebellious streak from his teen years. he absolutely loves conspiracy theories and shares a love for old horror movies. a flirt by nature, anything he says can make most people swoon and blush. he works as a chemistry teacher at the same high school as mason.

aurora - 28 years old, lesbian, cis. artemis’ supportive ex girlfriend and confidant. they broke up due to growing apart over the years, and due to aurora’s job as a flight attendant. she’s kind and quite shy.

paisley - 25 years old, asexual, cis. just graduated as a pharmacy tech, paisley has a dream of opening up her own pharmacy one day. she works at the local hospital currently and is in a relationship with sky.

eliana - 26 years old. aromantic asexual, cis. eli has a few novels published under a pseudonym. she hopes to make it big in the writing world one day, but so far, no luck. she had recently moved to the small coastal town of lakewood just a year prior, and enjoys hiking and sporting events. she’s currently working as a barista but hopes to get hired as a history teacher at one of the two high schools.

nova - 30 years old, lesbian, cis. nova works at the local gay bar as a bartender -- she knows her way around the kitchen and makes a mean drink. she’s been married for the last five years of her life, and acts as a mother hen to the younger patrons. she and her wife are currently hoping to adopt, and have a two year old. she is also a drag king in the local drag scene, and goes by Miles.

SCENE ;

The bar is nicely lit, with a large rainbow flag hanging behind the bartender, and the atmosphere is calm -- much calmer than I had expected it to be. But I guess large cities and smaller towns have different vibes, and at least here, there’s no expectation to get wasted.

“I guess I’ll have an aviation,” I tell the bartender as I look around. I’ve been here two weeks, and this is my first time actually going out and socializing. My only outlet before this had been Aurora and Zatanna, but dogs aren’t much for conversations and Aurora had been on a trip to another country and couldn’t talk very much or for very long. And as much as I’d like to call my parents to let them know I made it, I’m still not quite ready to speak with them.

When I announced that I was moving, mom had cried, saying that she had always dreamed of her family always being close by and coming home for Sunday dinners but now, that would be impossible. Dad was a little more supportive -- but asked if it was because of another woman, and when I told him no, he was slightly disappointed.

“So, are you new around here?” The bartender asks as she sets the drink down in front of me. When I give her a quizzical look, she gives me a sheepish smile. “Just haven’t seen your face here before.”

“Oh. Ah. Yeah, quite new,” I rub the back of my neck. Why is talking to women so hard? “Decided to check this place it. It’s quite chill.”

“Yeah, it is,” The woman agrees. “I’m Nova, by the way.”

“Artemis,”

“Hey, Nova!” A voice calls out and I turn to look at the speaker. A woman stands close to me, hands on the counter, her hair falling over her shoulders, messily and there’s a ray of light shining around her. I can’t help but stare. “Could I order a pink vodka lemonade and two whiskey sours? Mason just got engaged so I’m treating him and Ezekiel tonight!”

“Sure thing,” As Nova works on the drinks, this seemingly angel takes the seat next to me and watches her intently. “So, newbie, what brought you to Lakewood?”

“Work,” I answer as I take a sip of my drink. Red hot alcohol races down my throat. “And needed a do-over, I think.”

“Makes sense,”

Angel-girl looks at me, her pretty brown eyes wide. “Oh? You’re new here?” Before I can answer, a large grin breaks across her freckled face, and I feel mine heat up. “I’m Ember!”

Ember. Ember. 

[eponymous-rose]

This isn’t a post I really wanted to make, and I feel kind of shitty making it because parts of it aren’t my story to tell, but not talking about it isn’t working, so hey. Weirdly comforting internet void, please don’t reblog this. 

There’s discussion of mental illness below, but not (directly) firsthand. This is mainly discussion of the impact mental illness is having on my family. Please avoid this post if this is a topic that is likely to cause you pain or discomfort. I think I just need to have it out there.

About a year ago, my brother was diagnosed with Bipolar I. His seeking out a diagnosis was the direct result of the way his mental health was horrifically mismanaged when he lived in the US in his late teens: he was misdiagnosed as schizophrenic and, a few months later, a pharmacy error cut him off anti-psychotics cold turkey. It was absolutely horrible, and he wound up leaving school and moving back in with my parents for a time just to recover. That diagnosis was still on file for him almost a decade later, but recently his job finally had decent enough benefits that he could afford to go in for a barrage of psychiatric testing to rule things out. Bipolar I wound up being the diagnosis that fit.

And I think, for him, there was a sense of relief that came from that initial diagnosis, because a lot of things started to fit. Our immediate family is very close and very loving, but also almost comically controlled and disciplined and logical and isolated. As a kid, he would frequently spiral over something small (I clearly remember being baffled by the fact that my teenage brother would still have full-on tantrums), and my parents and I would just be staring wide-eyed in silence because strong emotion??? what do????? He was comforted and loved, and outright tells us all the time that he loves us and feels really lucky to have had such a supportive family, but I can’t help feeling like we were just... overwhelmed by inertia and kept thinking “this is probably healthier and more normal than the way we repress our emotions”.

I suspected depression was always there, and I’d reached out to him a little about that based on my own experiences, but mania hadn’t even occurred to me, even when he was sending us e-mails at 5 AM about the new opera he stayed up all night writing. It’s incredible what starts to feel like normal when you’re in denial like that.

Regardless, that’s where we were last year: he called us up when I was visiting my parents and we chatted for about an hour about what we all knew about this illness and how he’d be going forward. We all assured him that we loved him a lot and were here for him in whatever way he needed us.

And then, in typical us fashion, we repressed it. My dad yelled at a server out of nowhere for bringing the wrong drink that afternoon; this is the most empathetic man I know, who’s raised his voice maybe three times in my life that I can remember (he called the server over afterwards to apologize and tipped hugely for having to put up with him). My mom’s anxiety spiked. I stopped sleeping well. It took us a few months to realize we were all struggling because we were so worried.

My brother tried a few different meds, none of which had a really strong impact. We all got together for the holidays, and when he arrived, he was furious in a way that felt familiar, like back in high school when he’d be so angry it was like he wasn’t fully in control of his body, wasn’t hearing the things he was saying. It was weirdly a bit of a relief, because I realized then how much he must have been putting on an act before: after high school, he’d always been extremely quiet and positive every single time I talked to him (always for short visits with big chunks in between). He was finally comfortable not being perfect around us. 

The precipitating factor for this particular blow-up was one of his coworkers e-mailing him and asking for one more article even though he was on holidays: dick move, sure, but in no way deserving of flinging his luggage around and teary-voiced ranting at the restaurant we took him to for dinner. We made sure he knew he was being heard and understood, and we sympathized with him, and we set up an hour that evening so he could just sit quietly in his room and work out how he was going to reply to the e-mail. And then things were fine again. He told us stories about how great that same coworker was the next day.

My parents stayed at an airbnb, mainly because my place is a little small for four, and he and I stayed here and just had a wonderful time. I realized how much I’d built things up in my head in a worrying way: this was still my brother, who I love very much, who’s sensitive and feels things deeply and sometimes gets upset, but I knew how to talk to him and I hope I could help him feel better; he certainly helped me feel better. We watched old cartoons and played NBA on the Switch and got milkshakes and ordered in pad thai and had a fantastic time just chilling and talking about whatever crossed our minds. I never once felt nervous or weird around him in the three weeks we were here, and I very clearly remember thinking, “Hey, future self, remember how natural this felt next time you’re catastrophizing: this is one of the few people in the world you’d happily have as a roommate.” We get along so, so well, and some of the new initial tension between him and my parents (that awkward combination of “well-meaning” and “absolutely out of their depths” made for a couple of baffled moments before they hit their stride) just never bled through to our friendship.

It came out during that trip that he’d accrued some pretty hefty credit card debt (overspending being an extremely common thing when you’re in a manic phase... and also in your twenties living alone in a big city when a big chunk of your job involves socializing every night); my parents very calmly and supportively told him they’d help him pay it off on the condition that he cut up those cards and take a serious look at the gaps in his budget. He was more embarrassed than anything, but my mom’s no-nonsense, logical attitude broke through and soon they were happily sitting down and setting up a budget.

He went back home, and things started getting worse. His landlord was an asshole who wouldn’t let him and his roommate control the heating and insisted on controlling it from off-site, so he’d come home to a sweltering apartment every night and couldn’t sleep. He took a sleeping pill to help him get some rest, and that triggered a major depressive episode. Through a series of accidental events (mainly getting stuck on hold with a crisis line for 45 minutes and calling 911 out of desperation), he wound up getting picked up by the cops one night and brought to a mental hospital, which he said wasn’t his intention, but he was glad it happened in the long run (the hospital, not the cops, obvs).

He was only there for one night, after which point they set him up with a social worker and amazing outpatient care, including psychiatrist visits every week and a new set of mood stabilizing meds, and I cannot stress enough that this would have been a much shorter story if he’d lived in the US. With my parents’ help, he wrote a letter to his landlord threatening to go to the city if he didn’t fix the heating situation, and his landlord caved (thank goodness, because there’s no way he’d be able to pay rent anywhere else in that city). Things stabilized, a little.

Now, though, it looks like he may lose his job. He disclosed his illness right after the diagnosis, and after some initial missteps, they started putting in effort to work with him on it---in my brother’s e-mails to us, the HR person went from an obnoxious jerk to a determined ally, if only to avoid liability issues. But on his new meds, while he feels great in the mornings, he’s exhausted by the afternoon, and he often has minor depressive episodes in the evenings, so clearly the dose isn’t right yet. He’s up to missing a couple days of work a week, and they’re clearly trying to lean on him to switch to contract work so they can let him go without running afoul of legal protections. It doesn’t help that what started as a wide-open, exciting startup (he still says the first eight months were his dream job) has turned into an ad revenue-grabbing mechanism where all his colleagues are white homophobic tech bros who ignore him at best and resent his “special treatment” at worst.

A lot of his friends happened to move away around the time of his diagnosis as well, and now a lot of his remaining friends are distancing themselves. A common factor in his last few jobs toward the end was people telling him, “You just looked miserable all the time,” and it sounds like it’s starting to impact his personal relationships. His time online is spent in the deepest of “cancel culture” discussion, where being mostly good but fucking up once is almost more reprehensible than being wholly awful (he quit Facebook for a while, but wound up reopening his account to let people know about his hospitalization... and now he’s just back there again). He and his boyfriend broke up. His friend who initially suggested he apply for this job now ignores him at work.

It’s that awful combo of “people are being assholes about my illness” and “my illness makes it hard to believe that someone who initially reacts poorly will ever come around, so I’d better shove them away first”.

My parents are understandably so worried for him. They’re going out to visit him for three weeks starting tomorrow, staying at an airbnb nearby and occupying themselves with their own retirement pursuits so he can come visit if he likes, or ignore them if he needs space. They’ve told him that, if he’d like, he’s welcome to come stay with them for a few months (they live on the other side of the country); they’ll cover his half of the rent while he’s gone, and he’ll have a bit of an opportunity to just heal, considering he went straight back to work the day after his hospitalization. They’ll also help him strategize about whether he wants to switch to part-time on his current job and see about picking something else up. I suggested they bring up the possibility of going back for a master’s---I know it’s an absolute minefield for mental health, but in his particular case, a flexible schedule plus project-based creative work with specific deadlines has always been a pretty good fit, and he excels academically.

They’re also preparing for the possibility of moving him out to stay with them on a more permanent basis, but they obviously don’t want to disrupt his care (his current appointments are at the best mental health facilities in the country). They can’t afford to live in his city on their pension, but they’re also talking about giving up their retirement condo and buying out his roommate’s half of the rent, and just being there to help him out when he needs it. I don’t think he’d go for that unless things really deteriorated quickly, but a few months away from the city definitely sounds like what he needs.

And I’m just... so angry. I’m pissed off that so much of the stress weighing on him (and so many others!) right now comes from him being nearly 30, in debt, without a hint of a way to start saving for retirement, with these little one- or two-year gig jobs with two-hour commutes full of toxic people stretching out into eternity. I’m pissed off that this awful disease has made it so my parents probably aren’t in a place where they’re going to be able to do their big retirement trip, and they may be giving up their idyllic retired life for good. I’m angry with myself for that little burrowing resentment that, because my parents are older, I could wind up a financial, medical, and emotional caretaker for them and/or my brother at a moment’s notice, and I don’t feel ready to take all of that on. I’ll never feel ready.

(As a bonus, bipolar I has a genetic component, and now I’m thinking back to that one time I stayed up all night determined to save the world by learning all of biology in eight hours, or the time when as a grown-ass adult I started crying like a ten-year-old because I felt left out from an activity friends were doing, and I’m thinking, is this it? And then it’s not those extremes, it’s every normal human emotion that was previously muted by my own situational depression years ago. Is this it?)

I feel so, so entitled to the life we should have had as a family, and so frustrated at all these external factors that’ve brought it crashing down. More than anything, I’m scared for my little brother. I know bipolar isn’t something that magically disappears, and that things are likely to get worse, but I want those external stressors to go away and just leave him alone for half a minute so he can heal and find the right combination of meds and maybe, maybe get to think about thriving rather than just surviving. I’m so grateful to my parents for finding the right things to do and say to help him recover. And I know that, if something goes horribly wrong, I can try to fill those shoes.

I’m still losing sleep, but only every now and then. People at work occasionally comment that I don’t look so good, but that’s much rarer than a couple months ago, and the people I’ve confided in are very kind and check in on me even when things seem to be going well.

After the move this fall, I’m going to find someone to talk to professionally about this. In the meantime, just typing this all out makes me feel a bit better. I am finding better ways to cope; I had to mute him on social media because my overwhelming tendency to overthink his posts was very dangerous (turns out that famous self-deprecating millennial sense of humor is terrifying when you’re trying to work out if someone’s in danger). I have a generally positive attitude about this, and I can now usually catch myself when I’m starting to spiral. I send my brother goofy links, and he sends me funny stuff in return. I’m going for runs and eating better and playing video games and hanging out with friends... 

... and I’m genuinely very happy a majority of the time (not just content, but happy), which wasn’t true even a couple months ago.

I’m scared and angry and coming to grips with it being okay to be both of those things, as long as I’m also supportive and loving. This is my little brother. This is my family. They’re the best. 

And all we can do is take it one day at a time.

[remybourque-blog]

if anyone wants to read remy’s application ! the characterization is p much the same.

BASICS :

hello i’m rick, rick astley, but u can call me kviii or kviiilyn. jk im iris and this is my crib. i’m 21 years old, living in the PST timezone and i use she/they pronouns.

TRIGGERS :

i have an admin lux trigger, so if she could tag herself that’d be grviii thx. 

FULL NAME with maiden name, if applicable : moon juim remy bourque

CURRENT AGE : 23

GENDER AND PRONOUNS : cisfemale, she/her

LOYALTY : neutral but lbr the destler men are daddies. ( #DestlerDaddy )

OCCUPATION : secretary to michel lefèvre  ( aka Daddy #1 )

CRIMINAL OCCUPATION : none for now but she probably unwittingly gets herself into some shit.

FACE CLAIM : son naeun

INSIGHT :

I was torn between a few of the characters that were released before her, but after reading Remy in bed the night before my first final of the semester, I knew that she was the one for me. Everything about her biography, from her two left feet, to the little fuzzy roommate she sometimes throws a stiletto at when it catches her off guard, to the fact that she’s “disliked by everyone”, made me fall in love with her. I could instantly see myself spending the rest of my days with this Certified Mess™ of a woman. I know it sounds like I’m proposing to marry her, but I would gladly do so if it saves her from tripping along the cobblestone paths on the way to her work. She’s oddly charming, the kind that you didn’t think you would like, and she’s just not afraid to be herself. She doesn’t have a filter and she may rub people the wrong way, but that’s their problem not hers. All she wants in life is to be happy and carefree, is that too hard to ask ?

HEADCANONS :

MI CASA, SU CASA ; Remy was her sister’s roommate first; having let herself in one night with her large pink suitcase in tow after having had enough of their family home in the 20th Arrondissement. How tacky was it to still be living at home at twenty-one, when her sister had moved out years ago to attend university. So she sauntered over early in the evening when her sister was studying and wheedled her way into her heart and her apartment. From then on, she crashed on her sister’s couch for over a year, and then when Remy’s sister started dating this cute intellectual from the history department of her school, it was like Remy had the apartment to herself — especially during the lovers’ honeymoon phase when they would go out into the city almost every night. It was nice that her sister was dating and happy, at least until he decided to move into their already cramped space. He always tried to clean up around the house, namely in Remy’s little area, and always pointed out some cheap rooms for rent or studios to her.  ( “That’s such a cute space ! But I don’t think it’ll fit all three of us.” ) But then they started to get even more domestic and suddenly Remy felt like the ultimate third wheel, which is not ideal at all. She’s a pretty young ( single ) thing in the city of love, and if the offer ever came up, she couldn’t bring someone back to an apartment that had all the accouterments of a serious relationship. There are pictures of her sister and her boyfriend being cute and kissy for goodness sake ! Not at all the bachelorette vibe she wants. So she applied for the job at the theatre for the money and finally moved out. And her sister and her boyfriend were so nice about it too ! They helped her pack her things and move into her new flat, and even brought her a little housewarming gift.

THIRD EYE ; If you ever cross Remy on the street, there is a 75% chance that she will pull you aside and tell you about your aura or your zodiac that day. She’s got a certified third eye for these kind of things. There was this old lady in the park that Remy would pass on the way to school growing up, and she would always talk about prophecies and read the little lines on her palm. Remy always found it charming. In fact, she even asked the sweet lady to teach her. In her high school years, Remy spent most of her allowance money on crystals and medallions and how-to books from the incense filled shops on the outskirts of town. She would watch youtube videos and search sketchy websites about astrology and tea leaf readings. The hobby has died down years ago, she’s not that adamant about it anymore, but she’ll still turn to giving unsolicited advice and palm readings to whomever she feels has a good vibe.

JE M’APPELLE ; She changed her name the moment she found out she could, all chubby-cheeked and sparkling eyes. It’s not that she didn’t like the name Juim Moon  ( or was it Moon Juim, she’s seen her mama write it both ways on forms that she’s not sure which ways is proper anymore )  it’s just that she didn’t FEEL like a Juim. She never really did if she were to be honest. Which makes her sound like an ungrateful brat, her grandmother named her after all, but when you don’t feel it you don’t feel it. When she started secondary school, she introduced herself as Remy — a new brand to distance herself from the mess and a half that was a 14-year-old Juim. She was a new woman, with a new name and a new moniker. Remy Bourque. Both chosen from things she came across in the streets, a street sign here, a clothing label there. She tested and selected various variations until there was a combination she could see herself sticking with. It was cute and utterly French-sounding, things that she saw herself as, and she wouldn’t want anything less.

QUESTION ONE : What was your childhood like?

‘ Well, ’  she straightens up in her seat, flipping her hair back and clearing her throat just the slightest like she’s getting ready for a speech.  ‘ I was born and raised in Paris, believe it or not, just across from the Square Jardin Gare de Charonne — well, not really just across, but like in a complex near the gardens. My papa was a pharmacy tech and my mama tried her hand at a bunch of jobs over our childhood. She checked groceries at one point, and worked in a flower shop, and did some clerical work for a law office. Really simple stuff that got her out of the house when me and my sister were off at school. And my sister and I, ’  Remy gestured with her hand, her wrist limp,  ‘ we were just close as can be. I mean, she is just fantastic — she’s in school right now, she wants to be a pharmacist like our papa. She’s a real smart one, you know ? It’s just too bad she’s gotten kind of boring over the years. ’  

She makes a full stop, then looks at the others in the room,  ‘ Oh please don’t tell her I said that. I love her and all, it’s just that the stuff she talks about can be a bit dull. ’  She gives a small smile, grateful for the discretion. ‘ Okay, back to your question. Um, ’  she thinks for a second, trying to gather her thoughts,  ‘ my childhood was great — in a word. I come from humble beginnings, my parents never spoiled me, and I think I turned out pretty great. ’

QUESTION FOUR : Where is your favorite place in Paris?

‘ Oh this is easy ! ’  A full smile stretches across her face as she leans in,  ‘ There’s this café on the way to the Theatre that I pass every morning. It’s usually not that crowded when I walk by, just a few commuters going in and out for breakfast, but I always just have to stop and smell the freshly baked croissants and the coffee that they just brewed. Every time I get my paycheck, I go in for a baguette and their special pâtisserie of the day. It just reminds me of all the things I love about Paris, you know ? ’

QUESTION SEVEN : What is your favorite way to pass the time?*

She looks at the others sheepishly, like she’s holding a secret, but let’s be honest, she doesn’t hold many secrets to her heart.  ‘ People always give me strange looks when I say this, but I love people watching, ’  she admits.  ‘ It’s kind of a weird, guilty pleasure that I’ve had for as long as I can remember. Like I just get so invested into these people’s lives when they walk by, and I come up with these histories and motivations for them. It’s like a game of Sims, except I can’t tell people to go into a pool and then take the ladder to get out away. ’ She giggles, the noise high and flitting,  ‘ Gosh, that’s so bad to say. It’s fun though, if you have nothing else grabbing your attention. ’

EVERYTHING ELSE :

do u want to see the resume she submitted to michel ?

( jk here’s the actual resume. she pulled an elle woods and sprayed it with her perfume to make it scented )

a mock blog

pinterest

[regretsdelusionstoughluck]

PART 3

WEDNESDAY MORNING

While Damon was online looking for odd jobs he noticed an add for dancers needed. He’s had a stripper license since he was 19 and used this as a means for extra money when not deployed. He sent this to Oliver in an email prior to calling him on his way to the pharmacy.

“Morning”

“Check out the email”

As he pulled out his iPad, he saw the email

“What the fuck is this?”

“Strippin....you already do way more,  plus a bachelorette party would get you a killing. I used to dance at a few of them when I was home”

“Got anything else?”

“Banquets, I know a lot of companies. I can send you a list of catering companies you could do work for. What you got going on right now?”

“Laying on the couch, going into the office”

[Really? That’s the best you got? What part of “I want out of this life do you not understand?]

While he wasn’t thrilled about it, he took some time to think about t and he realized that bachelorette parties are for the entertainment value and he did keep his body in shape. However, didn’t want his current situation to mirror that of “The Players Club”.

Oliver got up from the couch to fix himself an omelette while continuing to talk. “Yo, I got you on speaker phone, doing some stuff in the kitchen”

“Man, remember when we were young and we would see vacationers out here, we vowed that one day it would be us taking trips with our families?”

“I do, and when I look at where I’m at, I think to myself “What the actual fuck?”

[We were lied to. In 2008, when we were in high school, we were told to go to college. That it was the ticket to a successful life. What they didn’t tell us is that the economy would tank. They didn’t go cover any alternatives. They never went over the cost of living and the fact that people here are working three jobs. I should have seen this with my own parents. Dad worked for the state and then worked as a janitor in the evenings. Mom still works as a financial aid officer at a state college. The preparation sucked. What the fuck am I gonna use creative writing for? Why was that in school?]

He cut the conversation short to eat his breakfast and get a shower in before work. Afterwards, he ironed a pair of pants and a golf shirt and heaved to the office where the direction informed him and Claudia:

“I have a project for the two of you. Our event is coming up at the mall. You two are going to be drawing outlines to these animal pieces on the construction poet right there. We’re expecting about 200 kids”

“No problem” Oliver said looking at the green construction paper in front of him

“It’ll be a breeze” Claudia assured him as she took a pair of scissors and the elephant trunk and demonstrated. 

“So it’s like build a bear type of think but with other animals but they’re decorating their bags with them. That’s cute”

“Yeah, so are you gonna go to the career fair next week”

“The one at the convention center?”

“Yea, I heard there’s going to be several companies there.”

[Resume-FEMA, fucking, and non-profit]

“I plan on it. Do you know if any government agencies are gonna be there? I couldn’t find a roster anywhere”

“Not sure”

They continued working while talking about goals and aspirations when he noticed an alert on her phone. Knowing the conference due to getting the same alert an hour earlier, he asked her how she knew about it? Somewhat embarrassed, she snapped “What are you doing looking at my phone?!”

“I merely glanced over!” he exclaimed before taking her aside and confessing to being involved in the worlds oldest profession “I hate it. One would think attractive people and pleasure but there’s no real live and frankly it feels like a modern version of slavery. I can’t get a decent date to save my life”

After a moment of silence, she admitted that she was a phone sex operator and that she worked in evenings. “I have a friend who also is in high class escorting”

“High class?”

“Let’s talk about it later? How about we meet for a drink after work? We need to get a bit more of this done.”

Meanwhile, Damon was scouting on the web when his eye caught the attention of a webcam modeling website.

 He though about his current life and how he’d mange to file his taxes. He normally got a 1090 at the end of the year. He also though about the repercussions of this and the thought that the clientele could  be from his local area. He had a flashback to being deployed in Germany where he and some buds where in a night club, partying surrounded by beautiful women. “We are like royalty!”  He thought about a conversation he had with his peer about wanting to serve for eight years and then retire and start college. Little did he know that half way though that time frame that he’d suffer a back injury along w/ PTSD from witnessing the death of a friend at the hands of a grenade.

He applied for work with multiple agencies and thought about how he could sporadically work vs checking in daily. With webcam modeling he could set his own schedule. With that in mind he decided to text Oliver.

“Who was that?”

“My friend Damon”

“So about how long have you with with this company?”

“About six months. I’m trying to start grad school”

They chatted while filing paperwork. They talked about politics, racial issues, economic issues, and the like. Claudia made for good company. She graduated with two degrees. She majored in English Education and Journalism and worked as a teacher’s aide for a period. She was tired of the work with virtually no pay. She responded to an add. Currently she works for a phone sex. One has seen the commercials late at night. She’s one of them. Definitely more conventional than Oliver’s current job. 

As he was getting ready to eat lunch, she Claudia asked him if he wanted to eat while they worked. “Sure” he said as he went to grab his lunch out of his bag. 

“We work with several schools in their special ed departments”

“What do y’all do?”

”We will be finalizing contracts for events mainly. But we do outreach and after school programs on social etiquette and speech practices our goal is to  help those with autism be as integrated into society as possible” Noticing Oliver’s garden salad, she asked him “you health conscious?”

“Yep. Grew up like that. My parent’s rarely fried anything, but they didn’t ban them from the house. My mom was always big on vitamins and drinking plenty of water. I practice that today, to keep things under control. Being a diabetic, I have to watch it.”

Shocked at the revelation she asked him when he was diagnosed. He was diagnosed at 6 years old.

“I’m trying to lose weight, but I find myself emotionally eating more than I should”

Trying to avoid saying anything that could be interpreted as offensive, he simply said that he had his days too, hence the reason he goes to the gym six days/week, doing a combination of cardio and weights. After they finished eating lunch, they cut more construction paper and bagged it. They filed folders away for about an hour when Oliver signed out.”See you tomorrow?”

“You’ll see me in a couple of hours.”

The sun was beaming as Oliver drove home. He rolled down his window and plugged his phone in to have some music playing. He checked the mail and saw the electric bill was in. “Shouldn’t be this much” he said “I’m never home”

He checked his email as well as his escorting profile receiving three request including one overnight stay. Booking these trips back to back, he thought about his weekly check at $8.75/hr at 25 hrs per week along w/ the money from the three client’s that he’d earn. He’d have enough to pay his final payment on his only student loan and to pay his car note.

He kicked off his shoes to give his feet some air and called his mom.

[I’m being nice. This place is a shithole, in fact the only reason my unit isn’t laden with roaches is because I frequently buy those foggers and then I have to open the damn windows and door risking my shit being stolen. Also, Bengal and Boric Acid along the cracks and corners have done wonders.]

He looked up and realized that it was time to meet Claudia. He traded in his work outfit for a pair or black cargo shorts, a zero-nineteen tank top from K-Mart, and a pair of flip-flops and headed out. He got in the truck, turned the air on and arrived to the bar 20 minutes later. Locating Claudia at a table in the bar area we walked in to meet her when the waiter took their drink order.

[She’s a pharmacy tech and she still needs to be a lady of the evening by night? I’m fucked-literally and figuratively]

She advised him to update his profile to include massages and casual dates at a lower rate. While they were talking, A woman walks up, dark skin, about 5′9, in her mid 20s. She spotted Claudia and walked in the sit next to her.

“Hey chick!”

“Hey!”

“Hello, I’m Aya, how are your doing?” she said as she reached out to shake Oliver’s hand

“Oliver, I’m good. How about you?”

“So this is the guy? He’s cute”

“He’s taken”

“Actually I’m very available”

After ordering a drink, she begin to explain to Oliver how she got into her current part time job.  “I started off escorting however a client of mine introduced me to a coworker of his that owned a matchmaking service. I showed up to a mixer I went out on one date. I never saw the guy again afterwards. That said, he did mention to me that he had utilized services where one would rent a dates for events. I eventually branched off and begin advertising on craigslist and the like.”

“So do you still...….you  know?”

“Sporadically, but that’ll cost extra.”

Later that night, he decided to update his profile w/ additional services offered. He decided to try out a couple of speed dating events himself. He might even snap a client or two.  Perhaps, he’d been looking in the wrong places, maybe it was time for more upscale social functions. His current evening work was not a glamorous job and frankly it was quite dangerous. 

[Prostitution can be traced back as far as biblical times. Not a new profession and it’s a profession that’s always been available for the money. Sometimes, we use it to pay off a loan or some sort of debt. For others, it’s the love of sex. Some just like the temporary luxury that comes with being one’s bitch. Me? I’d like nothing more than to settle down. I know there’s a way. It may take a while to find it, but I refuse to have THIS be my stop.]

STORY SYNOPSIS

CHARACTERS

PART 4 TO FOLLOW

[dudence-blog]

Dear Dudence for 8 March 2018

Been doing some home projects and was very proud of a nice TV shelf I built. Very proud of how it turned out and I can still count to 10!  YAY!  Winning.  So, now we’re off to the questions and answering them for people who don’t know I’m answering them! 

My father passed away last year and I’ve finished up most of the legal matters, but I have boxes and boxes of family photos. My father was born very poor, but I doubt members of the British royal family have led such documented lives. I have hundreds of photos of him at every stage of his life. I have photos of my mother—including an album and 16 mm film from her first wedding, a marriage that only lasted eight months. I have photos of my grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great-great grandparents. I have school pictures, team pictures, travel pictures, holiday pictures. All these photos completely fill a large walk-in closet.

Dear Family Photos, you don’t need to sacrifice your space and time to store something you don’t want.  I do think you should do what you can to preserve those items.  Just because you can’t imagine who’d want to see it doesn’t mean no one in your family, or elsewhere, won’t.  if you’ve got the money to spend it would probably be worth looking into a photo organizing/digitizing service.  You could probably even solicit financial help from the rest of the family since it is a project aimed at the family.  Get an estimate, shoot out and email saying what it’s going to cost and see if anyone would like to PayPal you some of the cash.  Depending on how much you value your time and doing something else with it the several hundred to over a thousand dollars for such services might even be cheap.  If you’re balking at the cost try and get some other interested family members to come over and go through the bounty.  Put everything that can be identified in one pile, that which can’t in another.  Apply whatever filters you want to the first pile; “We want 10 photos of Grandma and Grandpa”, “At least one photo from every house we lived in”, whatever.  Let your imagination run wild.  When everything is filtered take the discard pile, contact your local historical society or a heritage society and see if they’d like some of the photos (great-great-great grandparent pictures might feature background locations which have been destroyed for decades).  If there is a design or art school in the area see if they could use it; old photos can be used in projects, for inspiration, whatever.  Finally, just take some handfuls, post them on eBay as bulk vintage photographs and sell them.  You don’t need to let your family’s history dominate your storage space, but you can fulfill your role of custodian and not let than happen.

We took in my son’s girlfriend when she was 15, after her stepfather broke her arm and her mother threw her out because she wouldn’t lie to the police to protect him. She was the daughter people pray for: kind, respectful, and smart—she graduated fourth in her class despite everything she went through. My son and her broke up in their senior year, but she continued to live with us even while our son went off to college. (She went to community college and became a pharmacy tech.) They are both 23 now. We see her regularly and consider her part of our family. My son’s current girlfriend dislikes this. She says she will not come to visit us if we continue to have her over, and guilts my son for coming alone. He skipped Christmas and Thanksgiving last year on her orders.

Dear Like a Daughter, sometimes it’s really hard not to let me mind go wild filling in missing context.  Such as how much of “what my girlfriend said” have you heard from the girlfriend herself and not through your son?  “How does your son feel about his ex becoming his ‘sister’ in the eyes of his family?”  “Was their break-up mutual and amicable?”  “Are there any sort of lingering romantic feelings from either party?”  Taking everything at face value your son is probably letting his dick do a bit too much of his thinking for him.  Disappointing, but understandable.  It also means you probably don’t need to worry about this breaking up your family or you losing your son.  He’ll be moving on.  Taking this a step deeper though, let’s look at what’s going on here.  Your other children have discontinued contact.  You’re using some pretty hurtful language to describe your son’s disappointing but not wholly unusual actions, and I’m going to question just how welcoming you are towards his new girlfriend given you’re referring to a woman he’s been with for at least half a year as “the girl he has been sleeping with”.  Finally, your foster daughter is a young woman herself, maybe she should be finding her own “boy/girl she has been sleeping with” so she’s not left with “Ex’s family” as the only people she has in her life.  

My mother remarried when I was 17 to “Dan.” Dan was accused of molesting several neighborhood girls after I was 23 and married. The evidence was pretty damning: Beyond the girls’ testimony, he sent explicit photos to a 12-year-old girl and tried to get her to do the same. Dan plea bargained and served less than a year in prison. My mother stood by him during it all and even sold the house my dead father left her to pay for Dan’s legal fees. Her support of Dan broke our relationship. Our last serious conversation involved me begging her to see the evidence (the texts had just come to light), and I asked what she would have done if I had been one of those molested little girls. My mother said that wouldn’t have happened because she didn’t raise me to be a “slut.” Since then, I don’t visit and rarely call my mother.  I am pregnant now, and we know it is going to be a little girl. After we posted the news on Facebook, my mother sent me a physical letter explaining that she was sorry about our “estrangement,” excited to be a grandma, and hoped this would be a new beginning for us all. I miss her so badly, and never thought I would go through this without her.

Dear Mom’s Support of a Child Molester, wow… and then there’s the letter which fills in a lot of the contect.  This is not better.  On principle I have a tough time condemning someone for loving who they love; emotions are weird.  But I think you’ve got to make the difficult decision to cut your mom out of the loop for the time being.  Maybe permanently.  It’s not the “being married to a child molester” part which really squicked me out, but the part where she says the girls bore some responsibility for Dan’s actions.  It would be one thing if she admitted he’d done some terrible things, but she still loves him in spite of it… he paid the price for his actions… blah blah blah.  I mean, shoot, a father in Texas just successfully petitioned the governor to commute his son’s death sentence, the sentence he received for murdering his mother and brother.  Your mother’s view of the victims is really the red flag here.  I’d leave the option open to repair the breach in your relationship with you mom, but it’s going to have to come with her having a reckoning of just how, and why, she has supported Dan.

I attended a trivia event with some fellow “mums of young bubs” for a girls’ night out. I was having a great time until I saw some of the women cheating by Googling answers. This made me feel uncomfortable (I’m an honorable soul), but the awkwardness grew worse when at the end of the night we won the second-place prize (a bottle of wine—each!) by only two points. We cheated on more than two answers, so we definitely cheated other tables out of prizes.

Dear Trivial Trivia Concerns, if you only won by two points despite Googling it’s likely the competitors were doing so as well.  That really doesn’t matter though since your issue is with the cheating itself.  When you go next month tell the girls you don’t want your team to cheat.  You’re enjoying the night out in and of itself and will happily supply the wine if you don’t win because you were playing fair.  Heck, you’ll probably be supplying better wine than you’d get from a bar’s give-away for a trivia game.  As for what to do with your ill-gotten gains: drink the fucking wine.

One of my best friends since teenage years (we’re in our mid-30s now) has consistently made terrible dating choices: abusive men, drug addicts, just plain jerks, you name it. She is a great single mother to a wonderful 6-year-old, and got back together six-ish months ago with “Jake,” a guy she briefly dated a few years ago. She recently moved in with him, and while he seems nice enough, even she admits he is not the sharpest tool in the shed and doesn’t have a lot of personality or interests. In fact, this is why she broke up with him in the first place. When I expressed surprise that they were back together, she made a comment about how she was just ready to “settle” because she was tired of being single.

Dear Best Friend Troubles, this is an AB issue and you should C your way out of it.  Do you know why your friend thinks Jake is dull without a lot of personality and interests?  It’s because he’s not an abusive, drug addicted jerk.  After a decade or so of filling her life with shocking levels of drama she is with someone who does not bring the noise.  As a metaphor, just because a habanero pepper isn’t as hot as a ghost pepper, doesn’t mean the habanero isn’t also hot.  Jake most likely is plenty interesting as “Jake”, he just appears uninteresting because his interests don’t include a series of unfortunate events which inexorably lead to a visit from the police.  Honestly, that you’re proudly stating how your friend views you as a font of relationship advice, and your advice has led her to a string of soul-destroying horrors, you might want to rethink the little voice in your head telling you that you’re not sure if you should be encouraging her relationship with nice, personable Jake.  Let me be blunt, you need to see something shocking to the senses if you come away from your visit to your wrong-side-of-thirty single-mom-with-a-history-of-abusive-relationships friend saying anything to her but your best wishes for their happy future together.  

I am 34, with a Ph.D. and a successful, happy life. I am regularly mistaken for being much younger—often a college student. (I live in a city with many colleges, which probably doesn’t help.) Though I’ll be “thankful for this someday,” according to many well-meaning but semi-irritating strangers, I have struggled for years to think of an appropriate response to people’s surprise upon learning my actual age. For a bartender or checkout clerk, a smile and nod tends to be OK. (I’ve also tried, “Yeah, I get that a lot and I never quite know what to say,” but that never seems to help.) In a professional environment, things feel a bit weightier, as I don’t want people to assume my experience and skill set is below where I actually am.

Dear Not as Young as You Think, the appropriate response is “Yeah, I get that a lot,” which you already know.  And it is going to continue to be annoying for you until the inevitability of time consumes your youthful appearance.  Hopefully it is more gradual for you than it was for Dorian Gray.  And involves less murder.  What I do wonder about is your professional situation.  Since your phd isn’t assumed is it something which isn’t expected in your field?  It is entirely possible that “you are much earlier in your career” compared to peers only a couple years older than you, despite you being very educated and credentialed.  They spent the years you were in school working.

I’m a 23-year-old woman and have been dating my girlfriend for just over eight months. I’m over the moon about it, we’re happy together, and we communicate well. Here’s the thing: She’s a bit high-strung and tends to react to small issues in life with tears. We’ve spoken about it and she has reassured me that it’s not a big deal, and that when she cries it doesn’t necessarily mean that anything terrible is happening. I really struggle with this. I grew up in a household with a lot of abuse, both physical and verbal, directed at everyone. My self-appointed role as keeper of the peace meant that I spent my entire childhood on the lookout for subtle signs of distress in everyone so that I could try and mitigate it. Someone crying sets off all of my alarm bells for “something I have to fix,” and it is very hard for me not to overreact to her tears.

Dear Not a Big Deal When She Cries, you know, I’m going to go ahead and say that the high-strung person in a relationship isn’t the one with the hair-trigger tears but the one who is a self-appointed relationship peacekeeper from the abusive household who is struggling to adapt to someone else’s emotions.  It is entirely possible this is just an issue which the two of you are incompatible.  When you’re still in the euphoric happy banging stage of a relationship and you’re finding yourself emotionally drained and internally annoyed by her innocent behavior that is not a strong indicator for future happiness.  You should totally check into some options to help you deal with your issues from growing up, but it might not be much help for this current girlfriend.  Maybe you could try and find the girl from the “Like a Daughter” and see if she’s into some sapphic delights.  She’s got no one in her life and might be wasting her time pining for an ex who has moved on.  Give it a go!

[lightspren]

Year End 2017 Wrap Up

I’m gonna be straight up honest with y’all, I almost didn’t do one of these for this year because this year has sucked horrifically and I just didn’t see a fucking point. But I’ve done one every year for like, at least four years now, and it’s tradition, and I for some reason feel it’s important, so by damn I’m gonna look back on my text posts from the year and my memories of what I was doing and see what happened this past year.

Jan 2017 - Was beginning my last ever semester of undergrad this month. At this point I still thought I’d be going to grad school hahahah so much can fucking change in a few months. Started my AC sideblog so that’s cool. and even this far back (: we still see me struggling with debilitating pain (: which has been a trend ever since I’ve been doing these year summaries I think, is seeing how bad my pain was throughout the year. jfc. looks like I was struggling with some depression symptoms here too, go fucking figure. I had an interview for grad school too and we know how badly that went…

Feb - Here’s where I decided I thought i might be on the autism spectrum. I now think I was wrong on that self dx, but you know, journeys of self discovery are important and all that. but here’s lots more pain and tired and “brain not working” which was lots of depression symptoms I believe, sigh I let that get bad for a while there. Oh and then I learned I didn’t get into that grad school I got the interview for.  so yeah that was Feb in a nutshell l o l

Mar - Breath of the Wild came out this month and dominated my life for a month or two, I still love this game very much and it’ll always hold a special place in my heart, ti’s just so good and sweet and lovely. I still haven’t even really beat it LOL and I need to but. still. that’s never been the most important part of Zelda games to me. OOO THO I had beginnings of existential crises this month!! cause I was getting so bogged down in my thesis research and didn’t know if research was what I wanted to do forever and ever anymore!! isn’t that fun!! (it was not fun). but the rest of this month seems like. a whole lot of bitching about pain. paaaain pain pain. like holy jesus bitching about pain. maybe if I printed off all these posts and gave them to my doctors they’d believe I have a problem LOL.

Apr - So I had shitty dr appointments that further hurt my chronic illness identity, and then other Ongoing Identity Crisis because of not getting into grad school and wanting a job in which I could help people. this is the month I in earnest started applying for jobs; research tech jobs mostly, but some adjacent jobs too (don’t remember what exactly). I didn’t branch out very far at this point though cause I was still McFuckin Terrified. and then I realized that I didn’t want to leave hundreds of miles away for work, cause as much as a lot of the culture of southern Appalachia can suck sometimes, it’s still home, /my/ home, and I don’t want to abandon it. I know I freaked out a lot about getting my thesis done and presented this month too bc I was soooOooOOoO unmotivated to do that shit LOL like. whew. did not want to, did not care any longer, but still had to do it.

May - GOT MY FIRST EVER TICKET LOL THAT FUCKING SUCKED SO BAD. sigh. otherwise I was mostly vague as SHIT with stuff this month. I know I graduated, didn’t walk though cause I could not give less of a fuck at that point. I applied for every job I could find that I remotely qualified for that was close enough I was willing to move to. I even had a Skype interview for one, either this month or in April. it fell through, of course.

Jun - One of my very first June posts is “who the fuck am I/how do I become who I want to be” LOL so that identity crisis was still rip roaring obvs. then that time when I tried to explain disability stigma to one of my previous (cishet white male) bosses. Had another phone interview this month for another job I didn’t get lmfao. Pretty sure this is the month where I started applying for mental health case management jobs, like a bunch of them, at different locations all in the company I’m currently in.

July - So I think it must have been around the beginning of this month that I had my first in person interview? I bombed that one hardcore. didn’t stop another location from interviewing me though, and I got a second interview with them, which I then proceeded to fail because I had no prior experience. It was brutal LOL. and the new person started at my old job, and I had to start training her, and that whole situation was just awkward and weird and Undesirable. to the maaax. it was this whole ordeal too where they’d scheduled my last day to be the 28th of July, so that’s what I was planning on and like, focused on… but then it turned out my coworker got national guard orders and had to be gone two months, so instead of having newbie there by herself, they were like (to me) “hey… just wanna… chill for two months longer or until you find a job…” which was admittedly hella cool of them.

Aug - Lots of blogging about pain, lots of general vagueblogging. I did announce publicly on tumblr that I’m intending to convert to Judaism so that’s still cool, and still a thing, even if life has been repeatedly crotch-punching me so I haven’t been able to make much actual progress on it. but then, I had the interview for my current job. that i somehow passed with flying colors. And my asthma started getting worse, and I started getting soooooo so done with my old IT job, but I /got my new job/. ALSO THIS MONTH WE GOT RADS MY SWEET NEW BABY so now our family is made of me, my husband, and two kitties.

Sept - September. Oh, September. started out so innocently, with starting orientation for my new job. I was all starry eyed and hopeful for the new job because I thought that it was a perfect home for me. then I got there. started doing things. realized that I was terrified of trying to meet my new coworkers and learn their dynamics. realized I was terrified of trying to meet my new supervisors/superiors and learn their expectations. realized that in general I just didn’t know the culture of the place at all and that fucking /terrified/ me. and then the job itself, the job itself was something I’d never done before, had no experience in /whatsoever/, had no FUCKING clue what I was doing. I was a fish out of water with no bloody idea where I was going, and hoooboy. I almost quit by the end of September, I truly did.

Oct - tw: miscarriage at end of month I started therapy for my anxiety!!! yay!!!! I had a lot of adapting to work in this time too that I didn’t really talk much about on tumblr too I think. I mean I was learning a lot, I was meeting more of my clients, some even time. I was still terrified, especially of my other coworkers because I didn’t know them or understand them, but even at that, I was learning. [Stop reading if you need to avoid tw miscarriage and skip to Nov.] The other horrifically sucky thing to happen in Oct happened not to me, but to my sister. She’d found out a few months perviously that she was pregnant, at 37 years old. they’d just recently gotten all the genetic testings back and found out they were going to have a girl. unfortunately though, the baby stopped developing at 15w. my sister discovered this at what would’ve been 17w. she had to have surgery to remove the baby. she’s still recovering from this trauma, she’s heartbroken and just. very upset. I’m still upset for her too.

Nov - Last month I was doing ok I think. I was doing pretty well at work, kinda just coasting along but mostly getting the hang of things. Therapy had been helping I think; it’d been teaching me somethings, mostly only small differences but I think having someone to talk to had been helping frankly. Work was going well, and we’d decided to start looking for a house to /buy/ (realtor.com) but hadn’t hired a realtor yet. probably for the best. as it turns out now…

Dec - Fuck you, December. the good news is, my new job’s health insurance kicked in Dec. 1st. which is great, considering I got admitted to the hospital  Dec. 7th, a Thursday. the Monday prior I’d tried to pop a zit, no big deal. WRONG. it got infected. not just any old infection, though, oh no. FUCKING MRSA. so I got cellulitis in my face, my whole right side of my face swelled up three times the normal, I got MRSA/pneumonia in my lungs, I had MRSA in my bloodstream. when I came in the ER I had very low blood pressure and heartrate of 130, so I was septic. like. shit was going down. I stayed in the hospital 6 days, and they released me with a PICC line and having to do vancomycin (really strong IV antibiotic) twice a day via the line. I went back to work too early for two days, but saw my PCP on the third day and he put me off that again. /Then the chest pain started/. I assumed it was a side effect of the vancomycin, since back and chest spasms/pain are a listed side effect, but NO, apparently NOT, at least not to this DEGREE. The home health pharmacy, who I called to ask about it, called the on-call at my PCP, who advised to go to the ER to get checked for a “pulmonary embolism.” Doesn’t sound scary at aaaaaaaaaall. Get in ER, go through the whole terrifying ordeal, CT scan, x-ray, shit and shebang - what do you fucking know. I have a septic embolism. very rare. much wow. fuck me. so here I am, once again, in a fucking hospital room, tied up to IV antibiotics, at the end of Christmas day. At least they’re keeping the pain meds going now. Oh at one point my kidney function tried to drop, then it turned out I had a pleural effusion so they drained 550cc (half a liter) of fluid off my lungs (painful as fuck let me tell you). Ended up spedning 5 days total in the hospital, home now, but still in like. the same amount of pain as when I went in. Having to fight with so many things to get medicines sorted and shit. while feeling like shit too. everything is awesome.

So that’s it. 2017. That doesn’t even get into the way 2017 has sucked on a global, non-personal scale, that’s just how it’s sucked on a mostly-immediately-personal scale, and I’ve even left out some of the immediately personal ones I think. and that’s just the shit I remember LOL jesus christ. I really need to do an effigy burning of this year.

[a-woman-apart]

Release the Outcome

Yesterday, I applied for a full-time job working for the library system of the city that I live in (my other job is one city over). I probably won’t hear back from them until after August 2nd, because that is when the posting comes down. This works perfectly for me, though, because I really do not want to leave my current position until the new people are more settled. It could be a long shot; I applied to library jobs in my city before and have never been selected for an interview. I also know that I limit my opportunities by only applying for jobs in one section (out of 6) of the city, but my only other economically reasonable option is also applying at the downtown branch and I cannot see my anxiety-ridden self making that drive daily.

My main goal right now is to just keep pursuing opportunities while remaining detached from the outcome. I am tentatively looking into more volunteer opportunities, but nothing is jumping out at me. Sometimes, I think about the types of volunteer positions that would look better on a resume, or help to give me “marketable skills  or “build identity capital” but my boyfriend scolded me about that and encouraged me to just volunteer for whatever I care about, regardless of whether it will benefit me in the workplace. He is right. I have been so caught up in the hustle culture (albeit more focused on academics) that I have started to lose sight of what is important. We need to be able to strike a balance between working to survive and achieve things we genuinely want and being work-obsessed.

I realize that in my position, even as a neurodivergent and marginalized person, I hold incredible privilege. Friends and family have helped support me financially, and although it will be going away in a few years (or very soon, depending on my income), I receive assistance from the government in the form of my SSDI.  It is both temporary and not nearly enough by itself to survive on in a city like this, but it provides something to fall back on, and has enabled me to work part-time while pursuing my education.

As far as education goes, I know that my original goal to complete my COREs (gaining my Associate in the Arts in the process) can still be completed next year, but I am going to just observe myself and how I am feeling. It is likely that I will be working full-time by then, and if that happens, goodbye SSDI. That is ultimately the goal—and there would be a way to restart benefits if I fell into a rough patch—but that would mean keeping a decent job would take even higher priority than before. I was a part-time—sometimes full-time—student before and a part-time worker, but then I would be a full-time worker and part-time student. My disability does not allow me to go to both work and attend school full-time; many healthy people can’t even manage that, and it is not recommended by instructors.

Ultimately, though, these plans are very tentative. I have really been reevaluating what I want and why I want it. I have always loved writing. To me, turning what I loved into a career seemed like a no-brainer, but now, I can see that I always hesitated. I took a detour and went to school for music instead of just getting an Associate in the Arts (with the goal of transferring to a university to get my BA in English). Do you know what studying music for four years did for my passion for learning about and creating music? It utterly killed it. I had all the knowledge, but now I had no drive to create. I am only now starting to record little demos and play with concepts over a year later.

I can see now that I have been afraid of getting similarly burned out on writing. Yes, there is some element of being afraid that I am not a good enough writer to make a career in editing, publishing, and writing. Those fears are rather faint and distant; I am mostly confident in my writing ability. What I am seeing now, is that we live in a society that encourages us to monetize our passions, and that might not be healthy. On Adventures in Roommating, Meghan Tonjes and Keith Battista talked about being careful about making the thing you love into the thing you depend on to survive. I used to be perplexed about my youngest sister’s decision not to pursue culinary arts as a career, even though she loved it so much, but I can see that maybe she had a lot more wisdom than I do. Maybe we should hold our passions a little more sacred to ourselves. Maybe 2+ years of reading boring 1800s literature and churning out essay after soulless essay for picky English teachers just so I can have an English degree is not what I need to be doing. It doesn’t mean that I’ve “given up on my dreams”. Capitalism will extract value from you in any way that it can, but you can say, “No, this is mine.”

So many amazing writers majored in things other than English. So many English majors started off in other fields. Po Bronson, author of What Should I Do with My Life?, was told by teachers that his writing was so poor that he would never succeed as a writer. His proficiencies were in math and science. My own English teacher— one of the best teachers I have ever had—started off as a pharmacy tech.

My “back-up” plan if I was not able to succeed in writing, editing, publishing, or journalism, was to go to school and get my Master’s in Library Science. Working in libraries is a happy medium for me. It is not my absolute favorite thing to do, but I like it enough that I would not mind working in or around libraries for the foreseeable future. Some people say that the library field is shrinking, but that is not the whole truth; libraries are evolving, and the people that work in them are needing to be more flexible and to have greater variety in their skillset. Being a school librarian also means being adept with media; a reference librarian might also assist with writing grants, ordering books, or budgeting. Jobs are largely becoming more automated, but people who work in libraries are often required to supervise these systems and make sure that everything is working smoothly.

Maybe that “back-up plan” would be a lot better as a “main plan.” There are plenty of library jobs that just require a Bachelor’s. There is great flexibility in what my Bachelor’s degree can be, so now I have to be like “what would complement my Master’s the most, but still be a ton of fun?” I might as well enjoy whatever I am studying, and to be honest, I do not always enjoy English classes. If you have a great teacher, the hard work always feels worthwhile, but a persnickety, nit-picking teacher can turn the experience into a living hell. I do not want to see my love for writing turn into hatred. Yes, it would be great to “be a writer”, but I already am. I do not need a degree to confer that title on to me. I would also just love to explore writing conventions on my own, take independent classes, and continue blogging. I want to network with other writers and see if we can spark off some new ideas.

I could even just be undeclared for a while (AUDIBLE GASP) and just see what speaks to me. I could go to a smaller school that is closer to me. Once the time comes, I can move where I want to move without feeling under pressure to move closer to campus. I can take my sweet time with classes. In fact, if I get a good enough job, they may just pay for me to get my Master’s and that would be lovely.

You can have it all and still be miserable; I think we millennials, who are wrought with anxiety, student debt, and underemployment understand that more than others. We have been fed this lie about working hard and “making it”, and we are utterly disenchanted with the status quo. We are always questioning our identities. We ask ourselves “Is this it?” and we are always looking for meaning and purpose in our lives.

My 20s are almost at a close, so my “quarter-life crisis” is going to need to wrap up soon. If I learned anything from my 20s, it is that so much can change, and that a lot of the things you worry about now will be non-issues down the line. Relationships of all types come and go and people and situations evolve and shift. In fact, you probably experience the most changes in your life in your 20s, and you are laying the foundation for who you will be down the line. Your brain is not even fully developed out of adolescence until you are 25. So, while you are considered an adult in the eyes of the law, there is a reason why you still engaged in a lot of childish bullshit in your early twenties. Not to mention that if you have a mental illness or experienced trauma as a child, you can become “developmentally arrested” (I don’t have a good specific source on this one sorry, but look up “arrested development psychology” and there will be lots of interesting articles.).

Look, growing up, or as we say, “adulting”, is very difficult. As more of us are staying home and/or still financially dependent on our parents or other family members, it is hard to truly feel like we own our own lives. Ultimately, though, we never know how things will change. We just need to keep exploring new opportunities. Don Estell said, “If it doesn’t work, try something different.” It may feel like you have tried everything, but the only other alternative is to give up. Don’t do that. Don’t relentlessly pursue achievement at the expense of your mental health, but do not lose hope. Take a break, dust yourself off, then get back out there.

You will find a way, I promise.

[jan-ploeg-blog]

Eyes on stalks

We began our brainstorm on Monday and I’m happy to admit it worked for me. My word ’to binocularise’, which I came to use on the meadow for the decision to apply my binoculars for something that drew my attention out in Galway Bay, was welcomed my Michael in spite of lack of dictionarial support which nicely ties in with my rebel nature.

I didn’t have a clue how to interpret it into art, but the recognition  gave me, what I like to coin, Einsteinian confidence. Explanation: Albert says ’Something can not become nothing’. I like to use this when I’ve lost something. When I search with the solemn conviction that what I’m searching for exists, my perseverance is more likely to lead to the desired result. So having been led to believe my choice of word suggested potential, this kept me searching till I found something inspiring.

Kahlil Gibran gave me great solace by saying: ’The deeper the dagger of sorrow carves into your soul, the more joy you can contain. This balancing of extremes I translated into: ’The further your eyes are apart, the more depth you can see’. If you are bipolar you intuit the world from two extremes, which gives you rather a wider perspective than when you have an even temper. I can attest this from my own experience as a mental veracity. But I have often wondered if this is true in the physical sense. And thus I have looked at hammerhead sharks, but found no particular evidence supporting my theory. I also looked at chicken. When they walk their head is going to and fro with every step. That would suggest that looking for seeds from two positions might be helpful in finding them.

So how could I watch the world with eyes farther apart than I’m born with. The obvious answer to that would be with mirrors. So yesterday after college I went to Lidl, Dunnes and two pharmacies, but to no avail. I was dreading to have to go to Boots. I’ve only been to town once, in the very beginning of my attendance to LSAD. I went through my legs when crossing the street, which so freaked me out that I thought I’d better first get some of my energy back before I’d venture there again. When I entered studio 1 was welcomed by Beate and another very nice girl whose name has escaped me. We talked about our sculptural plans and Beate offered to help me get my mirrors. I gladly accepted and about an hour later her husband drove in to deliver them. To me that was magic. I always have had to do everything myself, but at school anything is possible.

Like the tech support I can avail of, I needed a way to put the mirrors in a vertical position and all I had to do was ask and explain and Des made them for me in less than a quarter of an hour.  

Until now I’ve just been testing the water. My expectation is to see more ‘around’ an object, like when you photograph a person’s head with a normal lens as opposed to with a zoom lens from a larger distance. The latter pic will show a slightly ‘fuller’ face as from a distance the sight lines have a slightly wider angle. I have always liked this effect and often photographed my sculptures with my 300 mil zoom lens, to literally ‘make the most of them’.

The two main variables in the set up of the mirrors are the angles to place them in and the distances between the mirrors. My initial assumption was to place the first two mirrors at an angle of 90° with each other. Then the second two mirrors should be, I figured, in paralel opposition to the first mirrors, but so far to the side that they don’t block the sight line.

Of course in a scientific strategy I should pre-determine a set of distances that I hypothesise to be effective and then test the resulting images.

There is a sense of triumph in finding the expected results of predictions, an exclamation of ‘I was right all along’. I know for myself I have sometimes considered in arrears faking premises that led to a true achievement. But it is more rewarding to try and figure out how I actually came to my conclusion than enjoy social appraisal for a ‘reconstructed’ achievement. There is no shame in a ‘lucky strike’ as often I set up the conditions that made it happen or I had the good sense of identifying one as such.

But as an artist I feel sometimes it does pay off to succumb to emotion and my inner child had no patience for a rigid, systematic approach so I began moving the mirrors around on impulse. Suppose you can see an object from the south-west and see that same object from the south-east. That would produce two pictures as panoramic neighbours, with in the middle some overlap. So I put the second mirrors far apart. That made it rather difficult to find my object. The mirrors are only 10x10cm and rapidly become smaller with distance. Also, in turning to adjust the mirrors they easily stray from their symmetric location to each other. As for the first set of mirrors, I found that the closer I put them to my eyes the wider view I got, so that was a reliable positioning. I also noticed that angling them smaller than 90° did make an even wider view possible.

This deviation of expectation I find interesting. Mathematically it makes sense to assume my eyes to look paralel, but in practice, when I look at an object the sight lines from each eye meet at the object. The distance determines the degree of swivel my eyes have to make. This may be minute, but it is unavoidable. Try to look simultaneously with one eye at one finger right in front of that eye, while doing the similar thing with the other eye and finger. That’s not possible, our eyes are geared to meet in whatever distance we focus. Could this aberration from a 90° angle account for the divergence of my eyes? Because I’m so close to the mirrors. But I’m not looking at the mirrors, I’m looking in them at something reflected in the second mirror, much farther away. That’s how I experience my looking, but taken literally I’m looking at an image in the mirror by looking at that mirror. The image in that mirror is in fact an illusion and so is the distance it seems to be at.

That sounds like an acceptable explanation, only it’s not. When I look at my image in a mirror and then look at the mirror itself I have to refocus and thereby increase the angle between my eyes. Never mind, a falsified hypothesis also contributes by narrowing down the options.

Let me for now take the reduced angle from 90° for the first set of mirrors as a given. There is the risk of a hiatus multiplying itself, like errors tend to, but so there is in frustration about the unfathomable. Also, I’m away from my actual, physical inquiry, so I have to imagine a complex situation instead of a factual trial and error approach, and I’m in hospital, waiting for surgery, not the most favourable circumstance for these reflections.

Jan Ploeg, room 4,ward 1b, UHL

[jncera]

Hello Julia! I'm a freshman in college right now, and I'm considering changing my major to biology! Since you study cancer cells and go to grad school for it, I was wondering what you did in college and why you do what you do, if that makes any sense. Thank you!

hell yes biology! only the best subject ever :P

Ok, time for grandma to go on a disorganized rant. hang on to your rocking chairs!

Welllll my journey through college involved changing my major/trajectory like 4 times because I started off pre-med, then clinical laboratory science (they run all the laboratory tests at hospitals/clinics), then pre-pharmacy when the CLS program got axed at my college (thx recession), and lastly microbiology and pre-physician assistant. and no where during my 4 years in college did i ever think about pursuing a phd in cancer biology. i mean, i was always (and still am) interested in biology and human health, hence the general trend of my studies, but i was under the delusion that a phd in biology meant dark basement laboratories, ramen 24/7, and teaching bored college students. which in hindsight was ridiculous of me to think, especially considering how i loved classes with labs. anyway, it was just me not putting 2 and 2 together, as well as having been raised with the mentality of “medical degree or bust”. 

the reason why i steered away from all the pre-medical/pharmacy/PA tracks was because after shadowing professionals/volunteering in each field, I came to the epiphany that wow! i don’t! like this! working with patients day in and day out really didn’t click with me; these were all professions that looked amazing on paper, but when i finally saw what a “day in the life” was like, i realized it didn’t fit my personality/career goals. also, not getting into any PA schools was also a wake-up call. i didn’t interview well, and partially because i think my heart wasn’t in it. 

so far, my only laboratory experience was from classes, and the one semester of research i did in my favorite microbiology professor’s lab for course credit. it really wasn’t enough for me to a) make the decision of whether i wanted to keep pursuing this and b) show my substantial experience in the field when applying to grad school. 

so i spent 5 months after graduating looking for entry-level research technician jobs, which were definitely sparse. thankfully my parents let me move back home, and let me pay back my dues by doing all the chores (all of them) and helping my mom’s real estate business (i painted and cleaned many things). i also tried getting a pharmacy technician job, and spend those few months studying for and passing the exam. so i was like, a certified pharm tech for a bit. 

anyway! long story short, i was lucky enough to be hired by a new PI at my alma mater who just moved from Harvard and did cancer biomarker research. why the hell she trusted me in being her first research tech/unofficial lab manager is beyond me, but I think I did a really good job. i worked there for 2 and a half years, which i spent doing research, taking grad levels classes to see what they were like, studying for the GRE, and then applying to grad school. it really was working in this lab (which had a bunch of grad students) that showed me the realities of being a PhD in the field, and that reality was everything that I never knew I wanted. I just loved how... every day was like solving a mystery--there was a lot of creativity involved, and brainstorming, and finding clues (literature searches), and then trial-and-error. It was fun, and also super rewarding to work in the cancer field. 

And.. the reason why i wanted to study cancer goes beyond it being extremely relevant to health, and also extremely intimate to almost every family; it was a fascinating disease. i could go on and on and on about why a tumor cell is so darn interesting, but additionally, it’s through studying cancer cells and how normal biological processes go awry did so many of these biological processes get discovered. therefore, cancer is a disease, but it’s also a tool and a window; the devastating crack in the ground that lead to the discovery of tectonic plates. 

Sooo i guess that’s like, my life story of how I ended up doing what i do now /puts down crochet needles 

hopefully something in there was whatever you were looking for? if not, or if you have any other questions, please hit me up! i would be more than thrilled to help you on your path of becoming a biologist. make me your unofficial mentor, yeah? :D

you can also check out my grad school blog @cancerbiophd if you’d like. i post a lot of my daily happenings of grad school there. 

good luck and have fun!!!