#seriously why do old people always want to talk about everybody's financial situation in the waiting room

[batemanofficial]

quiet doctor's office waiting room voted best place to have a loud, highly revealing personal conversation for the third year in a row

[riverleyk]

RECOVERED: Lost Mafia Kids files.

Mafia kids: 12 signatures as been my passion project all the way back since high school... like... 6 or 5 years ago? Oh my god... I'm getting old. This dates back to 2018.

CHAPTER 1

My high school years will be memories that I look over with more and more horror as I get older. At the time, I wasn’t afraid and I was too naive to realize the real danger I was in. However, I will never regret what I did. I was only trying to help.

It started with my dad losing his job. My family depended on him financially, my mom never worked too much, my brother, Kevin, was too young to even work, and even if I was old enough to work at the time, I didn’t want to and I felt as though I was allowed not to. Pretty selfish, right? But the minimum wage I could have gotten wouldn’t have helped in this situation; my family used to be rich, but once my dad was fired, we lost all the money and the benefits that came along with it. I assume it’s because my father liked to show off and so we were living above our means.

We moved to the slums of the big city, it was the most dangerous place in the area, but the cheapest. We stopped buying nice things like we used to, now we lived on bare essentials. Kevin took this hard, but I tried to adapt. I went to a new school too. It was the only school in the ghetto closest to our house, but it was infamous for being filled with child delinquents. Not only that, but it was infamously known as the worst school out there, in the poorest neighborhood.

I was so foolish… I really expected to be accepted there. In my old school, I was a bit bullied but I had a large group of friends, and we all got a long great! I was a really social and friendly person, so I wasn’t worried about going and making new friends in this hostile environment, but I was so, so, SO stupid!

From the second I walked in, I was stunned by how diverse it was there, there were few white people, and most of the kids there were racial minorities. I stuck out like a sore thumb… I went to school wearing my favorite rainbow pastel dress, I had even curled my hair and showered before my first day of school! I smelled of flowers and I was so cute looking. That however… That was my first mistake!

The others kids looked dirty… I don’t want to sound mean but they did! Their shirts were covered with stains. They seemed tired and unkempt. It was really a shocking contrast to the private school I went to before, but I tried not to judge. I acted super friendly and nice to everybody I saw. I introduced myself and I did a curtsy, I was so prim and proper!

“Hello there! My name’s Safara Grace, I’m new to this school. How are you?” Is what I’d say, but people seemed to hate me even more.

But not only that… I was white… Pure white. No, I don’t think you understand just how pale my skin is, it looks like I’ve never been outside before. Why? Because I’m an albino! Yes, my skin is pale, my eyes are purple and my hair is bleach white. Every time people see me, they look stunned and ask if I’m faking it. I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. I was born this way. Albinos are so rare, so the best way I can make you understand what my life is like on a daily basis is to make you imagine something…

So imagine you’re a kid… A black kid...going to school, but everybody there is white. They've never seen a black kid before and you are the only black kid around.

Imagine the bullying or the weird stares… Yeah! That’s my life all the time! Except I have no refuge with other albino people like the black kid does, I just have me! Being such a rare trait, I don’t even know another who looks like me… Oh and also, my skin is very irritable to sun light, so I walk around with a parasol all the time.

But anyways, I made no friends. For the first time ever, I was unable to make friends! I was heart broken and confused. I became very lonely. I hated this school so much… Everybody was so different… They hated me because I looked rich and I was so freakishly white. I told myself that the racism against me for being white was justified. I mean, white people were very racist in the past… But I soon stopped when I realized the few other white kids in the school weren’t getting bullied at all! Well… Except for one… I noticed this boy who always did group projects and sat alone at lunch like I did... He never spoke and nobody ever dared talk about him. I started hanging out with him, and I soon learned why…

CHAPTER 2

Yeah, that boy was creepy. He was tall, bone thin skinny, and he had extremely messy dark brown hair, tipped with gold. He was sort of attractive in the “I look almost dead inside but I’m super hot” kind of way. He wore a blue dress shirt with a grey hoodie on top. He was…strange.

He looked so tired with black bags hung under his eyes. His skin was gray and bruised all over. He had this depressing aura that lingered around him. To any normal person, just staring at him would send off red flags and make you stay away. To me though, a desperate and lonely teenage girl, he was perfect.

I quickly understood why everybody stopped bullying me when I started hanging out with him; they pitied me! They used to call me names and shove me into walls, but they stopped when I met him.

One day, a popular girl told me she would be my friend if I stopped hanging out with him. “Uh… why? I’m sorry but this sounds like a trap.” I replied to her, rolling my eyes.

“I know this looks cheap but I’m not kidding…”, she paused, “that guy is NUTS. He’s too weird for such an innocent li'l girl like you. Look, I promise to be nicer and I’ll tell everybody in school that you’re cool, but seriously…not him…hang out with anybody except him…”

“Why? Why is he so crazy to you?” I was so insulted by her pleas.

“Because he’s…he’s… I don’t know what’s wrong with him!”, she yelled at me. “The guy’s a fucking creeper and he’s unstable! Not only that, but rumors around school say that he’s addicted to the worst kinds of drugs, but nobody is even sure of that. Others say he’s mental, but it doesn’t matter what his problem is, he’s gonna rip you apart, Safari!”

“My name is Safara…”, I said in a dead pan tone. All I could do was walk away.

I think I did the right thing in that moment… That girl was a bitch to me. She spread lies around the school about my father and how he lost his job for cheating on my mom. Everybody believed it only because she was popular. I hated her and I wasn’t going to take her advice.

But, no matter how I spin it… She was absolutely right. Bonding with that guy was harder than I thought… More often than not, I felt uncomfortable around him. Getting him to speak was hard enough, he would ignore me and stay silent but when he did talk, it was…

IT WAS SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND HIM! He spoke like an emotionless robot! His tone of voice was this constant bored and tired tone, yet sometimes he’d say a joke or act sarcastic, but it wouldn’t make any sense because he sounded exactly the same as his normal tone!

It took me a whole month to get him to talk to me. I felt bad for pestering him around… I’d force my way into working with him during group projects in class, I’d eat with him at lunch, and I'd hang out with him in the library.

I remember the first time I got him to talk to me. I had opened up my sketch book and tried showing him my clothing designs. He looked at them blankly. He seemed uninterested at most of the drawings.

"They're pretty good.", he said in an uncaring tone.

"Oh...you...like them? For real?" I couldn't help but smile anyway.

“Yeah.” He replied simply. “You’re good.”

"Oh, thank you..." I pointed to my favorite ones. "You see how my dresses are colorful? Well, I do that just cause these days all the clothes are boring and black. I like making my stuff stand out, but I also like pastel colors too."

I assumed he didn't care because he sounded bored. Also he's was a boy. Boys don't like fashion like girls do.

He tilted his head slightly, "Yeah..I can see that.”. He sounded just as lifeless as ever.

I was surprised by this interaction, but after this he seemed to open up to me. He spoke to me about the things his liked; those being science and history, but he still didn’t talk much.

It was funny, because after a while I got used to him. I was able to read his sarcasm from his honesty even if the tone of his voice didn’t give any clues… I was so used to his weirdness that I stopped questioning him about all the bruises he had on his body. Heck, I even forgot that I didn’t know his name!

But luckily, one day he told me it out of the blue. We were in class working on a english oral presentation and we were both writing our parts and then he suddenly looked at me, straight in the eyes and said:

“Dimitrius Atkins.”

“What?”, I replied, not even bothering to look back at him.

“That’s my name. I know your name.” He replied. “But you don’t know mine… a-and that’s not fair.”

“Oh… You’re right! I sort of forgot about asking you after a while.”, I said, surprised. “Dimitrius… That’s an uncommon name..” “Please call me Dimitri though.” He corrected me with a monotone expression. “I don’t like Dimitrius.”

“Oh… why don’t you?”

“It sounds too serious. I’m a goofy guy. It’s not very fitting.”, he said seriously. How ironic.

I just giggled and went back to work.

From then on, we sort of became friends. The more he spoke, the more concern grew in me. He wasn’t crazy like everybody said he was, but there was something wrong with him.

He showed up to school with blood stains on his sleeves and scars all over him sometimes. I can’t forget the time he showed up to class late… He limped over to his desk, bruises all over his hands and he had a black eye. That was my wake up call. After that, I started noticing more.

I guess the first thing was his sarcasm. I assumed it was sarcasm.

“Hey Dimitri, what’s up!?”, I’d say excitedly.

“No… He’s not here right now.”, he’d reply.

Or other nonsensical replies.

“Hey Dimitri, for the project, do you want me to write the introduction or should I do the conclusion?”

“No, Safara, the world won’t have a conclusion.”, he said blankly.

“Dimitri, I mean the project!”, I exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He said looking away from me.

These sort of situations would come out of nowhere. Like I said, I thought it was him being sarcastic or making jokes, but the more we talked, the more I realized: he wasn’t joking. He was giving me these nonsense answers because he thought they were appropriate but it just made no sense…

I asked my mother, a psychologist, about it. I told her everything about him.

“Oh Safara… Your friend sounds like he’s mentally ill.”, she answered with concern in her eyes.

“You sure? I know he’s weird but…”

“Safara, this sounds serious. Maybe you should invite him over someday… I would love to talk to him.”

“Ok mom, I will.” I told her.

CHAPTER 3

The day after, I went to school with a mission. I was going to invite Dimitri to my house! I was so anxious about it that my legs were fidgeting all day.

I saw him sitting at his usual spot, alone in the library, reading a book about robotics like he always did. His hair was combed that day, he looked good for once! Well, looking good for him is pretty easy. He just has to look like he wasn't beat up 10 minutes ago and had washed his hair in the past 20 years.

I walked over to him, and Dimitri greeted me!

“Hey there, angel girl.”, he quietly said. He sounded tired.

I was caught off guard. Was he complimenting me? I sat down next to him.

“Hey there. So…do you want to go out?”, I said jokingly. I wanted to see him get flustered. I was pretty disappointed when he just nodded and continued reading. I think I may have spotted his cheeks get a little flushed, however.

“No, I mean, do you want to eat dinner with my family this weekend?”

“No.” He said dryly.

“Oh… Do you want to hang out this weekend?” I tried again.

“Sure.”

“At my house?”

“No.”

“Then where do you want to hang out?”, I snapped at him impatiently. I was shushed by the librarian.

“At the park.”, he whispered back.

“Oh. Cool.” I was a bit surprised. I didn’t know there was a park near by. “See ya there then.”

“Bye.” He waved at me and very obviously forced a smile. “Dimitri... I’m not leaving.” I laughed quietly but the librarian heard it. He promptly kicked me out of the library.

I got up and walked out.

“Bye again.”, he said while waving at me. This time his smile seemed more genuine, which hurt me a lot.

I muttered curse words under my breath and walked out embarrassed. My mission was a failure, but I was going to meet him at the park that Friday after school, so I felt proud either way.

Friday night finally came. The wait was unbearable. We met outside of the school. He gave a look, but it was more like a blank stare. He gave me a signal to walk over to him. Once I was close to him, he said carefully,

“Watch out for people who follow us. The park is safe but the path there is dangerous.”

I was unsure of how to reply so I just nodded. He put up his hood and lead the way. I followed him, walking by his side, trying not to get my parasol in the way. I tried to make small talk, but he stayed mostly quiet.

He asked me about my family, so I told him why I moved here.

“That’s too bad.”. He sounded careless, like he didn’t mean it. “This place is a bad place to live in.”

“I… Yeah…”. I agreed with him but I felt bad doing so, knowing that he lived here.

Looking around me, I saw trash all over the streets. People weren’t dressed as well as they used to be back in my previous neighborhood. People looked tired or overworked. There were hobos all over the place. Not to mention the buildings looked old and worn down.

“This place is so different from where I used to live.”, I told him.

“This is what poverty looks like.”, he said bluntly, “everybody here is suffering.”

“I know…”. I was hurt just seeing it all. I felt so sad for these people. “I want to help them.”

“Don’t.”

“W-why not?”. I stammered over my words, shocked by his apathy.

“They just take and take. They will never get out of this.”. He looked at me blankly. “Nobody gets out of poverty once they fall into it.”

“But… what about me?!”, I said, insulted.

“Start getting a job. Save up.”. He looked around behind his shoulder. “You can dream too.”

I stopped talking to him until we reached the park. I didn’t like him being so mean but what he said had truth to it.

The park was surprisingly isolated. It was full of trees and trash littered the ground. It was peaceful and it looked like a forest with hiking trails.

“You like to walk?”, he asked emotionlessly.

“Yes, and I love nature too.”, I said smiling, pleasantly surprised by the beauty of the park. “There’s a lot of trash here but it’s still nice to have a forest in the middle of the city.”

“That’s good.”, he replied, “nobody likes to come here…”

“Oh? Why not? It’s so pretty!”

“Um… well.”, he started, “there was once a big mafia that was running this part of the city. They committed many crimes. This park used to be popular for kids in the summer, but then they realized that the mafia was burying their victims here…. A police investigation was launched and they dug up over 22 bodies…”

“Oh my god…”, I whispered.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “People weren’t allowed in during the investigation…but once it was over, people didn’t want to come back in here. I’ve only ever seen one other guy here.” “They are afraid… and for good reason.”

“And nobody wants to buy this land cause it’s “haunted” apparently.” He forces a small laugh like it’s funny. “I’ve been here a lot and I haven’t seen anything here.”

“Well… heh… I can’t say I’m exactly too thrilled to take a stroll in here now.” I joked even though it was half true.

He didn’t reply. He just started walking. We walked in silence for a bit. It was making me feel really uncomfortable. I started looking around the forest. We could still hear the cars whooshing past us, as the streets were just behind the tree line, but as we walked further and further away, the sound faded.

I felt at peace, listening to the rustle of the wind in the leaves and the birds in the trees.

As a city girl, I don’t go to forest that often. My closest experience to animals are the bird feeders in my back yard and the squirrels. This walk was giving me nostalgic memories of the times I went camping.

I turns to look at what was to my left and I jumped a bit, seeing Dimitri besides me was startling as he was so quiet I forgot he was there. Though now, I was staring at him…. subtly! So he wouldn’t notice… I spotted a couple of bruises on his hands, neck and a faded scar on his cheek. Now that I was up close to him, I could see there was a lot more signs of injuries on him then I had previously thought.

“Hey Dimitri…”, I mumbled to him timidly.

He almost robotically turned to look at me. “Yeah?”

“Sorry for asking this… It might be personal. Why do you have a lot of bruises on your skin?”, I asked him. Instantly regretting the invasive question, I stammered out another sentence. “It’s nosey of me, I know, but it’s a hard detail to miss. It’s concerning…”

He went back to looking in front of him. He didn’t reply for a solid minute. The silence and wait was unbearable.

“I just get into a lot of fights.” He answered simply.

“But how?” My interest was peaked.

“Well you know… it’s a bad neighborhood. Gangs are everywhere.” He turned to look at me. “You better be careful.”

The words lingered in my head, sending a chill down my spine. The way he said it, cold and uncaringly, sent implications that were not spoken. Was he…threatening to attack me? Or was he warning me of other people doing so? He creeped me out.

“T-thanks… I will.”

Finally we reached a small river that ran along through the city and this park. We stopped and Dimitri told me a story about how a kid drowned in it. He’s not a very cheerful guy but I tried to ignore it…

We sat along the edge of the river. There were ducks passing by. Dimitri pulled a whole loaf of bread out of his back pack and handed me a few slices.

“Do you always carry around bread in your bag?” I laughed.

“Yep.” He said throwing a piece of bread into the water.

I laughed even harder. “So you do this often?”

“Yep.”

A pack of ducks were gathered around us now, fighting over the pieces of bread we were tossing into the water. We fed the ducks together while chatting. Eventually the topic of family came up.

“Well… I have a little brother. He’s a little brat. What about you?”, I asked.

“I’m a single child.”, he said, concentrated on the ducks.

“Aw, that must be lonely, isn’t it?”

“It is… But not because of my lack of siblings.”, he answered robotically.

“Oh how so?” I was probing for more information.

“Well I don’t have a father… Um… no. I do have a dad, he’s just not around much at all. And my mom? I avoid her.” He said hesitantly.

“Why is your dad gone? Why do you avoid your mom?”, I asked, concerned for him.

He forced a smile and looked at me. “No. Everything is fine.”

“Dimitri…” I gave him my “I know you’re lying to me” face and his smile faded away back to his neutral expression.

“My mom isn’t a nice woman… And my dad is in prison.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” I felt bad for pushing him to say it.

But a thought clicked in my head. He came to school everyday with bruises and cuts and he admitted that his mother wasn’t “nice”. Was this abuse?

“D-Dimitri… does your mom hurt?” I questioned.

“No.” He said simply.

“But you-”

“No.” he said a bit louder. “She doesn’t like me. But she doesn’t not like me either.” He said calmly. “Now stop asking me crappy questions.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok. I forgive you.”

We finished the bread and the ducks looked satisfied. They swam off and we walked off. He chatted a little back to the streets. I offered Dimitri the dinner invitation again and he accepted. We scheduled it, and I went home.

CHAPTER 4

It was the big day! Dimitri was gonna come over, we were going to hang out, eat dinner and somehow I’d persuade him to talk to my mom so she could figure out what was wrong with him.

I know I sound weird, trying to stalk him and get him diagnosed by my mom, but I obsessively want to help people and sometimes I take it too far. This is one of those times.

Dimitri showed up at our door. He was wearing a blue dress shirt and his hair was combed but still messy. He had a black eye and a bloody nose. He didn’t seemed fazed by it at all.

My brother heared the knocking first, unknowing of what our guest would look like. To his surprise, he was met by a disheveled young man at our door, standing like nothing was the matter. All he could do was stare.

Dimitri was so shy he didn’t say anything, just bleeding out of his nose. The blood was dripping down his face and leaking down his neck. He had just been seriously punched in the face, but my brother was too choked up and confused to know what to do.

“What the fuck happened to you!?”, Kevin yelled in disgust.

“I um..” He stammered. “I was mugged before coming here…”

Kevin just gave him a look of astonishment and ran into the kitchen to call for our mother.

Dimitri just let himself in. At that point I had heard the commotion and promptly came down the stairs. I froze up, seeing Dimitri bleeding like that.

“Hi Safara!” He waved cheerfully to me.

My mother came rushing in and bombarded the boy with questions, giving him a towel for his nose and a wet rag for his eye.

Dimitri seemed oddly perky. Usually, he was emotionless, making him come across as bored or slightly annoyed with everything. However, now he seemed to have a hint of happiness in his demeanor. I won’t ever complain about Dimitri being actually happy for once, but it was so different from his normal self that it weirded me out.

My mother, brother and I gave him a lot of attention while trying to help his wounds heal. He just sat there and gave us a small smile. He was giggling randomly from time to time. He seemed to be really enjoying himself even thought nothing much was happening.

“So what happened to you, eh?” Kevin asked.

“Oh... I was walking over here from my house. I was taking the back roads to avoid the traffic.” He started to explain.

“Back roads? Traffic? You were walking! How could there be traffic?” Kevin interrupted.

“I don’t like the big streets with too many cars…” He snarled. “Anyways… I passed by an alley way when a sketchy little girl jumped in front of me. She said something about me needing to go somewhere with her to meet somebody and to learn “about the past.” But I didn’t want to be late so I “kindly explained” to her that I needed to be somewhere and she got “upset” with me. Then, she punched me in the face and walked off.”

“That’s… odd.” I interjected. “Are you ok though?”

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” He smiles brightly.

I was just more unnerved. This was too out of character for him… But I tried to ignore it.

Dimitri was popular with my family. My dad and him made jokes together. My brother and him ran off to play video games. (By the way, he sucks at gaming. I would haven’t guessed he’d be terrible…)

My mother approached me.

“Safara, you said he was off, but he doesn’t seem like it now.”

“I know but he’s never acted like this before. He’s usually cold and apathetic to everything.” I turned to face her. “He’s like emotionless all the time and the other kids at school say he’s crazy and talks to himself. I don’t get it! He’s the complete opposite to how he asks at school.”

My mother just stared at me for a moment. “Have you noticed that he was giggling at nothing earlier?”

“Yes?”

“He’s high.” She said with a really serious tone.

“WHAT?” I gasped.

“QUIET! It’s only a guess… But I’ve seen this behavior before. He doesn’t have any redness in the eyes, though… So I don’t know what it is that he’s on. Oh, but there's also other factors. Maybe at school, he’s just really depressed and outside of school he feels more free to open up?” She hypothesized.

“That can’t be it. When we went to the park, he was acting the same.” I argued.

“Well then.” She rolled her eyes. “We should let him get comfortable and then we can get our improv therapy session, but only if he cooperates.”

The night went on. Dimitri's enthusiasm diminished so much so during the night that he was back to his emotionless self when dinner came around. He was so quiet that my family ignored him for the whole supper. He was extremely shy. I tried to talk to him but he would only nod his head in response to anything.

After dinner, he and I went up to my room. I gave him a “grand tour” which mainly consisted of me showing him my stuff and him just listening. He was barely talking. I felt bad.

“Dimitri… are you ok?”

He just nodded meekly.

“It’s ok if you aren’t. Do you want to go home?” I asked him, sitting down on my bed.

Dimitri sat down next to me. I started getting nervous and my heart was beating fast. He was so close to me I could feel his body heat radiating.

“No… I like it here a lot. Your new house is very lovely, Safara.” He answered quietly.

My heart started pumping faster. I was my shot to convince him to talk to my mother. I had to ask him!

“So Dimitri…”

“Yes!?” He interrupted me suddenly.

“My mom is a psychologist and I know you have some problems… I was wondering if maybe you could talk to her and she could help you, like a therapy session. You wanna try it?”

He just blankly stared at me. His face was draining of blood and he was losing color.

“Yeah… but she won’t talk to you about it, right?”

“Oh no! That would be breaking the confidentiality rules! She won’t tell me anything. Even if I asked her, she’s very serious about her job.”

“Uh… ok. But not now…” He hesitated.

“Oh that's alright.” I leaned over to put my head on his shoulder.

I felt him shutter from the touch but he didn’t move away from it. He posed his head on mine and we sat like this for a while. It was peaceful and warm. I closed my eyes and held his hand. His palms were sweaty and he was trembling a bit.

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“No.” He answered.

“Good.” I held his hand tightly.

“I d-didn’t think this was a date.” He stammered.

“It’s not…”

“Then why are you doi- holdi- uh… UMM-”

“Sorry.” I back away and let go. “I’m just a huggy person. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m just…” he shivers a bit. “Not used to getting touched affectionately.”

“Oh Dimitri.” I giggled. “I don’t really consider this affection, I just think of hugs as casual things friends do.”

“Oh ok.” He replied.

We watched a little bit of TV, not saying much. After the episode ended, He got up and walked out. I thought he was going to the bathroom and he’d come back quickly but he never did.

After 20 minutes, I left the room and looked around.

Kevin was in the kitchen, sneaking cookies out of my parents’ secret spot for them.

“Hey bro, where’s Dimi?” I asked him, taking a cookie for myself.

“He’shh- wiff mom.” He said, mouth utterly stuffed with cookies.

“Thanks.” I put the cookies away and I went back to my room to wait for him.

I think Dimitri stayed there for 2 hours. I was watching the TV for a ridiculously long time. When he did come back, he looked drained.

“Sorry about that. I was expecting a little chat but I couldn’t shut myself up so I started ranting for a while.” He explained.

“Oh it’s ok. It is therapy.” I excused him.

He smiled and hugged me. I was taken aback but I held him tightly. I could feel his body. He was so frail and skinny under those clothes. It was calming for that half a second we that were close.

Then he left.

I felt so lonely with him gone.

But then I realized…

“SHIT! WE SHOULD HAVE GIVEN HIM A RIDE HOME!”

CHAPTER 5

Nothing changed much at school. Dimitri was his typical robot self. There is one thing that was very welcomed though… Dimitri seemed to be forcing himself to act more. He would talk with more hand gestures and smiles (but his smiles were very awkward looking because he was forcing them).

Dimitri also became really friendly with my family. He would come over once a week after his first session with my mother. She really liked talking to him.

Neither Dimitri or my mother told me what they would talk about, but I knew it was serious. She would walk around with her note book after the sessions and often times, she’d be the one to invite him over.

One day, I knew something was up. She sat me down to talk about him.

“Safara, what has he told you about his life?” She asked me with a sternness in her voice.

“Not much…” Then I repeated all that he told me.

“I see. He is trying to hide it…” She flipped through her notes. “I can’t tell you much, with out his consent, but Dimitri allowed me to tell you this yesterday.”

“Oh…” I could feel that what she was about to say really important.

She looked me dead in the eyes and straightened her glasses. “He’s been diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was 15 years old.”

A wave of shock zipped through my body. I was speechless.

“He has vivid hallucinations. Safara, that’s why he acts emotionless.” She told me.

“But what about when he comes here and acts all… alive?” I asked, completely baffled.

“That I don’t know.” She sighed. “But Safara, I want you to be extremely careful with him.”

“I am!”

“No… just…” She smiles at me. “Please keep being nice to him. You mean a lot to him.”

I blushed and nodded.

“That’s all I’m allowed to say. You should try to talk to him about his issues. He trusts you to keep these a secret, however. You got that, right?”

“Yes mother, I understand.” I got up to leave.

“Wait! I forgot to mention something.”

I sat back down.

“Would you mind if Dimitri lived with us?” She asked me.

My eyes widened. “You aren’t serious, are you?”

“I am. He has a bad home life, and I know that one of the only ways he can get better is by having a better family, so I asked him if could move in with us. It will be temporary, like maybe a few months or so.” She explained, justifying her decision. “I’ve already spoken to your father about this and he agrees. Dimitri wouldn’t be that huge of an addition to the family, we’d just need more food and that’s it.”

“Oh I don’t mind but don’t adopt him, ok? It would be weird to have a brother that looks so different from us.” I joked.

“Oh but that's what adoption is all about, sweetie! And he isn’t that different from us. I mean you are the most different of us all.” She touched my hair and poked my cheek, giggling the whole time.

This gesture really annoyed me. “...Thanks mom. But also, I just don’t want another brother. Kevin is enough of a brat as it is.”

“Dimitri’s a sweet young man” She said as she was getting up. “Anyways, I’m going to tell Kevin the news.”

I went back up to my room and I could hear my li'l bro wailing down stairs. He cried, “BUT THAT’S TOO MANY PEEEEOPLE!”. I snickered to myself.

CHAPTER 6

Dimitri came up to me at school the next day. He asked me if my mom told me the stuff and about the “news”.

“Oh. I’m so happy to be moving in with you.” He forced a smile but still sounded monotone.

“Me too! We’d get to hang out all the time!” I hugged him from excitement.

Dimitri grabbed me and spun around with me in his arms. He gently put me down. I looked up at him, confused but I saw a genuine smile on his face and my heart melted.

Dimitri being HAPPY is the cutest thing ever.

“Sorry. I’m just so excited.” He shook my hand for some reason. “I’ve just always wanted to leave home.”

“Oh… why?” I asked with concern.

“Well uh… Never mind!” He suddenly laughed awkwardly. “But yeah I’ll tell you in private. By the way, I’m sleeping in your basement.

“I’m really happy for you though.” I held his hand as we walked off to class. I didn’t care if the other students were watching. Dimitri seemingly lost his enthusiasm and got really quiet after that.

CHAPTER 7

Moving Dimitri into our basement wasn’t that hard and it didn’t take long. All he had was trash bags full of his clothes, a box that was full to the brim, labelled “parts”, and a mattress he used as a bed. All we did was put his stuff down and he organized it by himself.

Two hours later, he went up to my room. “Want a room tour, Saf?”

“Sure!” I went down the stairs alongside him.

His bed was just a mattress on the floor with a pillow and blanket. There was a desk that was particularly lacking the normal desk-clutter, and a simple wooden chair. My parents emptied out a shelf and he put his clothes there. There were no doors on the shelf so I could see his shirts, pants, and (Oh my gosh!) boxers! (Is it pervert to stare at a guy’s underpants??? It made me super uncomfortable to see those!)

Dimitri’s box of parts was untouched in the corner. All in all, the room was pretty small but it still had looked like he barely filled it. I walked over to his box and pointed at it.

“Need help unpacking this?” I asked.

“Oh!” He stared. “No. Don’t touch that, it’s fragile.”

“Ok, sorry.” I said. “So how do you like your new crib?”

“Super cool. I never really cared for the decorations, as long as it’s warm and I can eat and sleep, I’ll be fine.”

“Neat. So what now?” I asked.

He scratched his chin and looked up. “I don’t know. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure! I just got a new horror movie from the store. I think it’s a slasher flick of something. I got it for my brother but he was too scared to watch it. I’m not a fan of those movies but I liked to get scared every once in a while. What do ya' say?”

He just went flush red and became really quiet. “Oh uh…” He scratched the back of his head. “Um… Ok.”

“What? You don’t like horror?” I asked, seeing how uncomfortable he was.

“N- I do like that. Let’s watch it.” His smile was meant to reassure me but it was so obvious it was forced.

So we went to my room to watch the movie. I really embarrassed with how much I yelped at each jump scare. Oh, and how I needed to cover my eyes during the violent scenes! Though, Dimitri barely had reaction. He was blushing from ear to ear and biting his lower lip. He would flinch during the fight scenes but, yeah. That was it. I thought he would be judging me for being a wimp! But half way through he got up and left, so I finished without him.

A hour later, I went downstairs to his room. I knocked on the door and he yelled. “It’s unlocked.” I walked in to see him fiddling around with metallic parts and tools. I approached cautiously.

“What are you doing?” I questioned, tilting my head to the side.

“Tinkering.” He replied expressionlessly.

I watched him open up the box to pull a toy robot he was going to disassemble. He leaned over to take a screw driver and started to remove pieces from the toy.

I leaned over to get a closer look. “Why are you breaking it?”

“I’m not breaking it.” He replied calmly. “I’m taking it apart… and rebuilding it.”

“Oh, why?”

“Well, it helps me understand how it’s made and the techniques they used.”

“Oh that sounds neat. You like making robots?” I asked him, overly interested in what he was doing.

I sat down next to him. He just looked at me and said nothing. I think he was confused but yet again, he had no emotion. Just his regular expressionless glare. His eyes felt like they were piercing deep into my soul… those glass-like, grayish-blue eyes. They creeped me out.

“Tell me about your robots, Dimitrius.” I muttered. “I’m curious…”

He raised an eye brow for a second but then went back to tinkering.

“So I like making stuff with my hands… Though, I have a whole system for it.” he paused and looked at me again. “You don’t mind me rambling?”

“Oh, Dimitri...you barely talk. I like your voice! Go ahead.” I encouraged him to go on.

“So uh…” he forced a smile. It was so cute. “I like making my own custom robots for tournaments and stuff, but I’m not that good at making my own parts, so I take them from other bots that I buy.”

I listened, completely fascinated in it. His voice was monotone and boring but he sounded calm. As he went on, there was a hint of happiness with him being able to talk about his passion.

“I take them apart then I rebuild them.” He continued. “...W-with out instruction manuals. The point is to know the purpose of all the parts, where they go, and how they work. I repeat breaking them down and building them back up again until I know the bots perfectly.”

“Is it time consuming?” I tilted my head and picked up one of his tools.

“It is but it depends on how complex the model is. Though, once I understand the bot perfectly, I can take its pieces and use them to make my own bot… or if I like the robot, I mod them to make them more efficient or stronger. Whatever I feel like doing to it, basically.” He took the piece from my hand. “This is a screw driver….”

“Oh my god! You think I didn’t know what a screw driver was!” I laughed at him but I stopped when I saw that he looked nervous.

“Sorry, Dimitri. I like what you do with the robots. It’s really cool.”

“Thank you…” He replied timidly.

Suddenly the door opened, and someone appeared from the newly escaping light. Dad. He sternly yelled, “SAFARA! IT’S BED TIME.”

I called back to him, "I'M COMING, ONE SECOND!". I gave Dimitri a hug.

“Good night, Dimi!”, I said as I was running up the stairs.

Dimitri just stares at dad, mouth agape. His cheeks were the reddest I've ever seen. “Y-you too, angel…” He stammered and muttered.

SIDE CHAPTER 1

-MONSTERS-

A woman paced around the room and stopped in front of a mirror hung up on the wall, putting on a pearl necklace. She grabbed a comb and brushed over the bangs of her long, silky, brown hair. She was very tall and slim. Like a stick, she adorned barely any curves. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she smiled. She was all dressed up in all of her best clothes.

A man walked into her room. He was smiling. Wearing a suit with a green tie, matching with the color of his eyes. He was giving a piggy back ride to his son, a cute little boy with short blond hair.

The woman walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you two ready to go to church?”, she asked with her sing song voice.

“Of course.”, the man replied with a wink and smile. “How’s his outfit?”

The lady examined her son’s clothing then she nodded.

“Yes, it’s good.” She walked out. “Come along now! We don’t want to be late for our lord.”

Behind her back, the man rolled his eyes and put his son down. Once on the ground, the toddler stumbled toward the front door.

The car ride over to the church was pretty uneventful. The little boy wasn’t listening to his parents bickering in the front, he was fascinated by the trees rolling by, yet the clouds being seemingly suspended and frozen in the sky. He held out his hands and tried to grab the birds, freely flying across the beautiful blue sky.

Once inside the church, the little boy held his mother’s hand and followed her. The outside of the church was colossal and grand. It towered over the little boy. A statue stood over the entrance. It was of winged humans saving Earth's people from certain doom while the rest had already met their demise. They all wore faces filled with utter terror, as they were burning and being eaten by horrifying monsters. Each time the boy saw this statue, he’d start to cry and his parents would scold him for it. This time would be different! He put on his brave face and stared down the statue as he walked in, but he held back the tears. His mother and father didn’t notice.

Once inside, he thought he was going to have an easier time, but he had forgotten that inside there were monsters here too. Big paintings of the monsters were hung on the walls. Luckily, they were much less scary than the statue.

They sat down and listened to a man in a robe speak. The boy was so bored that he fell asleep, lying his head down on his father’s lap. Each time they needed to stand or sing songs, his mother would elbow him really hard in the shoulder to wake him up. It always happened like this. He’s come home with bruise on his shoulder and it didn’t matter where he sat, his parents forced him to sit in the middle of them so that they could watch his behavior better. He was used to it by now, but sometimes he’d cry on the way back home. He wasn’t allowed to cry at church, people would stare.

He was ecstatic it when they sang the songs, though. He loved to sing. He'd yell out the lyrics of the hymns as loud as he could so he could drown out all the other voices. It was the point of the game for him.

Eventually, his mother took his hand and walked up to the display area. He was confused, they only let people walk up there to get the bread and wine. He wasn’t allowed to go up there because he didn’t have his First Holy Communion yet…

She picked up him in her arms. He was heavy since he wasn’t exactly her little baby anymore, but she could still manage. While in her arms, he stared back at the crowd. Everybody was staring at him and her. He felt a pressure build up in his chest and he wanted to run but he couldn’t. She was holding on too tightly.

He stared up at the wall that was behind the crowd, it had a massive painting of a winged human with a shiny circle around their head. They were impaling a red monster with big horns and a tail. It was like the statue but, much more scary and gruesome!

He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he squirmed to get away. Suddenly, his mom lowered him and submerged his head under water. The few seconds he spent under there felt like an hour, but he was soon pulled out.

He coughed violently for a while after. The pastor gave him a speech he could barely hear or focus on.

The car ride home was terrible. He was so scared of the monsters and confused by the water. He sobbed quietly, trying not to bother his parents who were still bickering to each other.

CHAPTER 8

Dimitri became accustomed to living with us after 3 weeks of residing here. However, he was really weird about being seen with me outside of the house. I took the bus to school but he’d still walk there. When he did take the bus, he would avoid me like the plague and get off at completely random stops.

It was obvious that he was paranoid. Constantly looking over his shoulder, keeping a distance from people when he could, and when he had to be around people, he had his hood up and ignored everyone. Being invisible was his goal. I hated it.

He was hiding something from me.

Thursday night, after school. Dimitri went to the basement and I went to my room. I was finishing up my homework when I got stumped by a math problem. I went down to see him, hoping he could help me out.

I slowly crept down the stairs to his room. I caught him at his desk working on robots and wearing glasses. I rarely ever see him wear them, but I really liked them. It made him look so sophisticated and intelligent. He was already really smart, but it made him look the part too.

He looked up at me as I got closer.

“What’s up, angel girl?” He asked.

I giggled. “Oh, why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because you are an angel.” He smiled.

My heart melted. Usually, he was so robotic in his actions and speech but it was so cute to see him smile with out forcing it.

I pulled up a chair and sat next to him. I asked him for help with the homework and he effortlessly solved it, and then taught me the process step-by-step. He was much more help than the teacher was. After we solved that one, we just kept going through all of the other questions I didn't get.

After that was done, I didn’t want to leave him just yet. I liked his company.

“Hey Dimitri… Thank you.” I hugged him.

He didn’t say anything, he just gave me a small smile and nodded. He put his arms around me and I felt his heart beating fast in his chest. I let go of him after a few seconds.

“I was wondering though…” I began to explain to him that I thought weird to be so paranoid out in public and I was wondering why he acted that way.

He was visibly nervous, he started tapping his fingers on the desk and darting his eyes around.

“I can’t tell you… It’s better if people don’t see us hanging out in public… I tried to get you to avoid me at school but you didn’t get the message so I gave up.”

“But why?” I asked, confused as ever.

“You’ll throw me out of the house if you knew- He paused. ...You’d hate me…Oh, Safara.. I’m so sorry.” He was expressionless but hints of remorse were seeping in.

“Dimitri… You can tell me anything. I won’t ever hate you.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

He sighed. “Safara. I’m targeted. I’m dangerous. Being around me might make you targeted too. I don’t want you to be hurt, so I try to avoid you and others in public.”

“I-I'm not following. Can you explain more?"

He bowed his head in shame. “I’m the son of Tony Drey. Remember the story I told you at the park? It was about him.”

I gasped. “You’re father was a mob boss?!”

He nodded. “Yeah… He did terrible things… He’s infamous throughout this entire city. His claim to fame was being elected to office as representative of this district of the city. He was passing laws that corrupt the governmental system. He was a well known anarchist and his plan was to dismantle all government. Though, he did much, much, more before that.

He did pretty much everything. Prostitution, drug dealing, robbery, scamming, and yes… he murdered people. He didn't do it himself, though… At least I don’t think he did.

It’s complicated. Basically, he was the leader of his own gang, but it was well organized, so calling it a gang would be an insult. It was a full blown mafia and criminal organization. Everything was run by him and he had loyal followers.

Then he was caught… Put on trial and sent to jail. That's when a woman came out saying that they were seduced by him and had his kids. My mother was devastated but whatever, fuck her.” He said the last part with hatred staining his words.

“Anyways, he was imprisoned and put on death row. He’s still there. He has to serve his 20 year term before he does.” He continued on. “And you’d think my troubles and there but they don’t. That fucker and I look the same!”

I pulled out my phone and quickly googled Tony Drey and I found his mug shot. What stunned me the most is that Dimitri was completely right. They were very similar, but there were some obvious differences too. Tony had green eyes, opposed to Dimitri’s blue, with dark black hair that was beginning to turn white, Dimitri’s was brown. Their haircuts were different, Dimitri’s was longer and a lot messier. Not to mention his dad had stubble and, well, Dimitri was lacking there.

“Yeah… He sure does look like you. Family resemblance…” ////*********************/////

“Exactly. But yeah my looks cause a lot of problems… You see, his followers want me to take his place because that his “official” son would be the heir to the throne and It pisses me off. I don’t want to be that. I want to be a police officer to put sickos like him

in prison where they belong. But not only do I have weirdos forcing me to give them orders, but I also have other people trying to kidnap me for ransom, and some who just want to kill me. So ya know the bruises and cuts on my body when you see me at school?”

I nodded weakly.

“That’s them starting fights with him and I need to protect myself. I fight back. That’s why I can’t have anybody hand out with me ever. But…” He avoided eye contact with me. “It’s so lonely isolating yourself from every one… I longed for somebody to confide in and you came to me. I wanted you to go but I wanted you there with me. It was a guilty pleasure to have you around.” He blushed a little. “I really appreciated our little chats, but I was so shy I could barely talk to you… and now I’m living with you. It’s a dream come true to have a friend like you with me Safara.”

“Oh Dimitri… That’s so sweet.” I was so touched. I was smiling and blushing hard.

“But yeah… I couldn’t bare to see my angel get hurt. You can’t be with t school or in public. I think people are watching me… And once they find out we’re friends they’ll try to hut you so they can hurt me. People are cruel, Safara, they’d attack you even if you are innocent.”

“But Dimitri, you can’t just let them rule over your life like this. You should call the police and get on the witness protection program!”

“You think I haven’t tried that? The cops in this city don’t care. This district is so corrupt, nobody cares about anything you do. That’s how my dad got into power, that’s why the crime rate is so high here.” He rolled his eyes.

“What if I helped?” I shot up the idea suddenly.

“And how would you do that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Dimitri, what if I could fight along side you? You can’t fight them alone. They’ll over power you someday.” I held his hand in mine and squeezed it. “You said you didn’t want me to get hurt, well, I don’t want you to get hurt or killed either. I want to protect you…”

He was speechless for a moment. He was touched by it obviously because his whole face turned red and he didn’t look at me in the eyes for the rest of the conversation.

“I can’t let you fight for me… If you get hurt, it’s my fault. But… I like the idea.”

“You could train me how to fight! I took karate classes as a kid and self defense!” I pleaded with him.

“I can’t teach you but I can bring you to the guy who taught me… But Safara, this is serious. You sure about it? It’s painful and it will take a lot of time for you to get good.” He explained with a dead pan tone.

“I want to be there for you Dimitri.”

I sealed myself to him in that moment and from then on, we were stuck together.

I was his and he was mine. I was naive. I saw a troubled young man who’d lived a hard life and I just wanted to save him. He called me his angel, and I felt the burden of living up to that title. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I wasn’t ready but I didn’t care. I was there to help. That’s what I thought I was doing.

Little did I know then, but the time Dimitrius and I would spend together would be the worst years of my life because from that day forward, I was brought into his suffering and I would not drown and suffocate in it until out mission was over.

That was the day I became an honorary mafia kid.

SIDE CHAPTER 2

-CRYING-

His mother stopped giving him attention. He’d come home to the sound of weeping or sobbing. At first he didn’t understand. He thought that once people reached adulthood, they stopped crying. He was hoping that would the case for him at least.

He knocked on on his mother’s bed room door. She ignored him, the crying just got louder, so he let himself in.

“Mommy, why are sad?” He whined as he walked over to her.

She was hunched over on the bed, pulling out her hair. She turned to look at him. Her face was so ugly when she cried. Tears staining her pillow and her face showing all the pain she feels inside. The little took a few steps back, frightened by his own mother’s appearance. Gestured to him to come closer. He hesitated but he did so. He sat next to her on the bed and he hugged and caressed his dirty blond hair.

“Dimitrius… Sometimes adults get sad too. Everybody has a different way of coping with sadness.” She explained.

“What’s coping?” He asked.

“Everybody is different and everybody needs to take of themselves.” She brushed off his question. “Mommy needs alone time, dearest.” She kisses him on the forehead.

He got off the bed. “So you want me to leave you alone?”

“Yes dear… I’ll come out and tell you when I feel better, ok?”

“Oh… Ok mommy!” He said as left the room, closing the door behind.

He waited for her to get better.

She never did.

CHAPTER 9

Dimitri Brought me to see one of his dad’s followers. The man was a huge muscular black guy named “Mufa” but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t his real name because he greeted Dimitrius by called him “Damien” instead. Also, he told me that I wasn’t allowed my real name on the streets. I had difficulty coming up with a new name for myself but Dimitrius comforted me and said it was ok for me to take time to think it over. I eventually settled with “Sophia”.

The first time was just basic training for fighting. It was pretty fun. On the way home after it, Dimitri was acting all nervous.

“Hey, um, are you sure about this? You really wanna go back to training?” He asked.

“Yes! Let’s go back twice a week, ok?” I set up our routine and Dimitri just nodded.

That’s what we did together from then on. School, hanging out and training with Mufa. It was so difficult for a while. My body ached but Dimitri was so supportive and he cheered me on. He was always there watching me from the side lines.

One day, we were walking to the candy store after the training when suddenly, a man hit Dimitri in the back with an empty bottle of wine. I jumped when I heard the hard “THUD” and Dimitri’s sharp gasp. It was happening! My first fight. Dimitri coughed and turned around. It was the bottle brothers.

Mufa had mentioned that the bottle brothers were two men from the opposing gang. They used bottles of wine as their weapons, they duel wielded them, using them as basic melee weapon.

The man swung at Dimitri again but this time, he took a step back and got out of the way. I was shaking, distancing myself from them. They ganged up on him. I was so helpless, watching them battering Dimitri.

He got a chance to grab the bottle out of one of their hands and he smashed it on the other brother’s head. I screamed as the bottle shattered in half. He fell to the floor, blood pooling all over with shards of glass all over the ground. This brutality shocked the brother and he froze watching his partner fall to the ground: that was his fatal mistake. Dimitri spun around with the broken bottle griped firmly in his hand and stabbed him in the stomach with the sharp broken part of the bottle.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I ran off and headed towards the park. Once there, I stopped to take a second to breath. Suddenly, my face was in the dirty. It happened so fast I couldn’t even scream.

“OHMYGODSAFARAAREYOUOK?” Dimitri spoke so fast in panic as he grabbed me by the waist and picked me up.

I was violent yanked off the the ground and held tenderly in his arms. He was trembling as he wiped the dirt off of my face.

I was stunned. I opened my eyes and I could see him, but it was blurry. It took me a few seconds for his anxious face to come into focus.

He swallowed some of his anxiety and held me tighter. “Are you ok? I d-didn’t mean to run into you.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded slowly. The motion of my head bopping like that made me dizzy.

“Y-you started running after I was done with those guys.” He said.

“No. I’m ok.” I tried talking but it came out raspy and quiet. “I was just scared.”

He nodded and lifted me up. He threw me up into the air and I fell on my back into his arms.

He forced a reassuring smile. “I dealt with them. Let’s go home.”

He walks out of the park carrying me around bridal style. I was really confused by this but my head to much for me to question it.

As we walked home, people stared at us. They gave us weird looks. I glared back at them. Dimitri was doing something nice and people were staring at him like he was kidnapping me. I looked up at his face. He had no emotion on his face. I wasn’t sure if he was noticing it too and didn’t care or if he was oblivious.

I put my arm around his shoulders and hugged him for the rest of the walk.

“Dimitrius…”

“Don’t call me that.” He glared down at me.

“Sorry. My mom once told me you have schizophrenia.” I said.

“Oh? What else did she say?”

“You were diagnosed with it when you were 15.” I curled up to him. “That’s all I know.”

“Oh. Well what about it?” He sounded almost offended, but with him, any tone he has in his voice is best to be left ignored. He always sounds like a robot or a chronically annoyed mumbling teen age boy.

“You hallucinate. Mom said that… Do you hear voices?”

“Um.. Not exactly. Sometimes what people say to me gets mixed up, I mean, they’ll say something and I’ll hear the words out of orders.” He explained.

“What’s it like being schizophrenic?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve had it for such a long time that I’ve gotten used to it.” He replied.

“Oh but what do you hallucinate?”

“Well I can’t tell you that.” He forced a small laugh. It was cute. “You’d think I’m crazy.”

“I’m curious though and I won’t judge you.” I reassured him.

He gave me a cautious look, like he was unsure. I gave him puppy dog eyes and that convinced him. He stoped walked and pointed at a group of men.

“Well, right there, there are 3 demons talking to each other.” He said.

“Demons? There 3 guys.”

“They are all black and shadowy. They have arrow shaped tails and big horns. Their eyes and mouths are like light poking through the darkness.” He described as he continued walking.

“So… You seem demons.”

“Yep. Every stranger is a demon to me.”

“Was I a demon when we met?” I asked, kneading my fingers in his hoodie.

“Yes.” He looked down at me. “But you turned into an angel as we got to know each other.”

“Wait what? I’m an angel?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Well aren’t you?” He said with concern.

“I’m a human, Dimitri.”

“B-but you have wings and a halo, you’re so beautiful and shiny… you’re an angel.”

My heart fell into my stomach but I also felt the butterflies fly around in there too. I didn’t know if Dimitri think this about me would be dangerous or if I should be flattered.

“Do you really see me like this?” I asked trying not to sound nervous.

“Yeah. All the time.”

“Hey Dimitri, do you know that your hallucinations aren’t real, right?”

He glared at me. No filter, no held back emotions, he looked actually angry. For real.

“You can walk.” He said and dropped me at on the ground.

I fell down right on my butt. He stepped aside and walked away. It really hurt but seeing him leave me hurt more. I jumped up and I was about to yell at him but I stoped. I lowered my fist.

I remember what my mother said to me. To be careful with him.

Schizophrenics can be really dangerous if you don’t treat them right…

I cocked my head to the side and grinned. Just trying to push it aside. I walked up to him.

“I wonder what it’s like to see how you see the world… It must be interesting.” I said cheerfully, but I was trying not to punch him with all my might.

He looked up. “I could show you, but it’s a little risky.”

I snapped out of my anger and stared at him in confusion. “Wait… How?”

“I did it once before, but if we do it, you need to follow my instructions very carefully.”

“what do we have to do to achieve it?”

“Well, it’s like a ritual… It helped you see inside of the other person’s head. You drink some water in a dark room and the person who want to share their mind has to describe everything to the other person.” He paused for a second and stared at me. “It relies on imagination.”

“Oh… so it’s not actually going into somebody’s mind?” He smirked “No that’s scientifically impossible, but this ritual is as close to it as it gets. Do you want to try it?”

“Sure, why not?” I shrugged.

“Ok! I’m gonna run off to the store and buy some candles. Go home with out me, ok?” He said as he ran off.

“Dimitri! Wait!” I called out to him but he was already gone.

[pllandcompany]

Natural

Summary: Hospital!AU. It's Logan's first day back...and he's late.

Warnings: discussion of medical procedures, mention of past drug use/addiction, blink and you miss it mention of past child abuse, chaotic medical situations, blood mention, implied nsfw (non-graphic, just some high charged smooching), arguing, some weight/body/eating mention, some swears

Pairings: Romantic Logince; QPP Moxiety

Tagged:  @ziallwarrior @thefallendog @apologieslogan @trueunreal @flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @crofters-jam @jakesmolbean @band-be-boss-blog @ab-artist @asylia-5911 @backatthebein @oonagh-una

Notes: Logan's back and there's gonna be trouble...well, kind of. As always, heed the warnings and enjoy!

 If today was a day that Roman's life depended on his ability to stand still, he would most certainly have met his maker at the hands of Virgil Davidson.

"Dude. Your trauma gown is straight. Stop messing with it, you're gonna tear it." The fidgety neurosurgeon was more than getting to him.

"I'm sorry, Virge! I can't help it; I have all of this...nervous energy." He twisted the mint green trauma gown in his hands one more time. Virgil reached out and stilled them, forcing eye contact between them.

"For God's sake, find a way to help it before you make me lose my mind. What's got you all bunched up anyway?"

Roman sighed heavily. "Logan is supposed to come back today."

"Seriously? I didn't even know he was home! How long has he been back?"

"Three whole weeks, Virgil. And we've spent most of that together when I'm not at work. He's still antsy about sleeping alone, especially in his apartment."

Virgil pursed his lips. "I'm gonna guess you didn't say anything because he asked you not to."

"You have to know I was dying to tell you all. He's been doing so well, meetings twice a week, he's talking, laughing, eating. He’s getting healthy and we’re getting…happy. But you know how stubborn he is and last night, he was nervous. I offered for him to stay at my place and we could go in together, but he insisted that this was something he had to do alone. And now he’s late! I mean, what if he got cold feet? What if he…?”

“Relapsed? You really think a bit of nerves would make him use?”

“I think a bit of nerves would make him think about using, yes. I’m trying not to hover or worry or push but…I just hope he’s taking care of himself, that’s all.”

“Dude. Take a breath and stop acting like he left you. He’s fine until he isn’t. And whatever happens…you deal with it then. It’s okay until it’s not.”

Roman stared at Virgil incredulously. “‘It’s okay until it’s not?’ Inspiring, Virgil.”

“Look, the rig is pulling up and I’m riffing here, all right? You just…you can’t panic. You’ll make a rash decision if you panic.” The ambulance rolled into the dock just as Virgil was shouting his last sentence. Roman hung back, looking uncertain. “Court? You gonna help or no?”

“Ah…if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sit this one out. See if anyone’s seen Logan.”

“Uhhh, I have!” Roman turned around to a shocked Virgil staring at Logan kneeling on top of the patient’s gurney.

With his hand in the patient’s chest.

“Logan, what the hell?!”

“30-year-old male, MVC victim with penetrating trauma to the chest. Patient began to decompensate rapidly and I had to perform an emergency thoracotomy in the field to tamponade the bleeding. The defect is ventricular and I have it, I have my finger on the hole, but he needs surgery immediately.” Logan looked up to two stock still surgeons, shock petrifying their limbs. “Well? What the hell are you two standing there for? Book an OR, get me surgical privileges, and help me save this man’s life! Let’s move!” The two paramedics began to transition the gurney from the ambulance to the ground, causing Virgil to snap out of his stupor and hop into action.

“Badass move, Dr. Taylor. Welcome the hell back.” He smirked at Roman who was working his jaw around an unspoken sentence. “You heard the man, Roman, make those calls!” It took the neurosurgeon until the gurney was rolling into the building to pull out his phone.

Guess I found him.

****

“And last but not least, I know it’s been a week now but let’s everybody give a warm welcome back to Dr. Taylor who came flying in from his sabbatical with an impressive save!” Chief Thomas burst into a round of applause that sent flaming stripes of embarrassment across the cardio surgeon’s face. He made eye contact with the other attendings briefly before looking down at his hands, shaking his head lightly to signal the end of their cheering.

“Emergency thoracotomy in the field, Logan, bold first day back,” the chief continued to gush, obviously prepared to turn this into a teachable moment. As he circled the attendings, Virgil caught Logan’s gaze and rolled his eyes, mouthing here comes Lecture Mode towards him. Logan fought the urge to snicker as he focused his attention back on the meeting.

“I simply did what had to be done to save the patient’s life, Chief.”

“Exactly! You were willing to do whatever takes to get that good outcome, to save that life. Sometimes you have to know when to take that risk, to make that bold move because a lot of times, it pays off. Now, I know we’ve had times here where the risky move…has cost us dearly. And since then…we have been a staff running scared. But we need to remember that Dr. Taylor has personally and literally faced that defeat and still chooses to go above and beyond, to take that risk. That is the type of surgeon I want in this hospital: one who isn’t afraid to stare death in the eyes and still do what needs to be done to send death running scared instead. So, go out and be brave, surgeons. Be fearless, be bold and challenge yourselves. Take. Risks.” With that, the chief left the conference room, effectively dismissing the meeting. The room was silent until the ortho attending stood up, stretching his lanky limbs before pushing in his chair.

“I guess we’re done,” he drawled. “I’m so glad I came to this.” Patton shivered as he and the other attendings left, he and the other three bringing up the rear.

“Ugh, that ortho guy is so…slimy. I swear he gives me creeps.” Virgil smirked, chuckling quietly before glancing at Roman whose face was beet red and hard as stone.

“Roman? Yo, dude, you gotta breathe. What’s wrong?”

“Stupid. Reckless. Insensitive piece of sh-“

“Roman, language!”

“No, that man…has no idea!” Roman abruptly stopped in the hallway, causing Patton and Logan to nearly run into each other. “If he knew what Logan has been through, if he knew what facing that risk nearly took from his, from us-“

“Roman-“ Logan tried to interject but Roman wouldn’t be deterred.

“No, no, if he knew, he never would have made that idiotic, reckless, insensitive speech! Of all the…moronic, self-centered-“

“Roman, stop, stop!” Logan stepped forward and grabbed both of Roman’s hands, silencing the irate surgeon. “You don’t need to be so angry. I’m fine. I am past all of that now, okay? We’re past it. So no more ranting or enemies or anger. We’re okay now. Let’s just…work.” Logan fixed Roman with a gentle look and squeezed both of his hands again as he left. Patton followed shortly after him, clapping a supportive palm on the neurosurgeon’s shoulder. Virgil stayed behind and let the man in front of him process for a quiet moment before he leaned into Roman’s space to whisper in his ear.

“You guys are still going to therapy, right?”

“Uh, yeah, Virge, of course.”

“Good. Because there’s no way he’s just magically fine after that trigger fest of a meeting.”

Roman sighed deeply. “Yeah…I know.”

****

“I have a question.”

“Do you always announce when you have a question, Roman?” Dr. Picani quirked his head, genuinely curious about the behavior. Roman acted like he didn’t even hear him.

“Where was your father throughout all of this? Who was there to protect you from…her?”

Logan froze slightly, mind whirring at rapid speed from trying to piece together his thoughts. “I…I guess…no one, really. I protected myself. Occasionally, I stayed with friends if it got to be too much but I never told them why I was over there. And my father was an attorney to very prominent and very wealthy members of our community which in turn contributed to our wealth with every successful outcome he obtained. Each case required his undivided attention. Which honestly, now, I understand why. I would not have had the opportunities I had without his support.”

Roman shook in his head, a muted sort of sympathetic anger bubbling in his chest. “Correction: his financial support. Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to protect his own son from what was happening in his own damn house…I don’t know how you’ve survived all of it. I don’t understand how you’ve managed to overcome what you have.”

Logan paused for a moment, crossing his legs and screwing up in face in inquisition. “Interesting. So, you would say that I have indeed overcome it? My past, I mean?”

Roman stared at him briefly in confusion. “I mean, yes, of course, look where you are now, you’ve come so incredibly far.”

“Really? That’s interesting considering that just last week you were ready to go to war with our Chief of Surgery over the mere possibility of something he said hurting me, implying that I’m clearly not over it. So, which one is it, Roman, am I a survivor or a victim?” Dr. Picani shrank back into his seat, cringing as the heated tete-a-tete began.

“What? Okay, excuse me but that’s what people do when they care! Maybe you’re a stranger to that but I know what it means to protect the people I care about!”

“Don’t…you EVER say I am incapable of love because it hasn’t always been shown to me! Don’t you ever say that again!”

“Don’t make me the villain for wanting to keep you from getting hurt again!”

“Don’t assume that I am so weak that every possible thing is going to hurt me!”

“Maybe if you would ever actually talk to me about anything, I would know when to back off!”

“Oh, for God’s sakes, Roman, have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, I’m not saying anything because there’s nothing to talk about?”

“That is a lie and you know it!”

“Oh, so now I’m a liar?!”

“Okay!” Dr. Picani shouted, desperate to stop the shouting match. “And that’s time!” Both men abruptly closed their mouths and looked at the clearly uncomfortable therapist in shock. “Okay, so, a lot to unpack here. We will…definitely pick this up in our next session?”

“Where the hell are you from?” Roman interjected quietly. “Why do you always say that word like that?”

“It’s not important,” Picani answered quickly. “Okay, well, we’re done for today so…you two cool cats get outta here and…” Picani watched as Logan stood up and stormed out without a goodbye and Roman trailed behind mouthing a quick apology over his shoulder to the bewildered man.

“Try not to kill each other,” he mumbled to himself.

**** “So, the patient is stable for now but I need you to closely monitor their intracranial pressure. If it starts to spike, push Mannitol and page me immediately. Hopefully, we won’t have to go back to the OR anytime soon and they’ll have a chance to heal more. Got it, Dr. Johnson?” The resident nodded eagerly, drawing a small smile from the attending. Just as they were finishing up, a knock on the doorframe caught both of their attention.

“Ah, Dr. Taylor. Here to grab me for lunch, I presume? Give me just a moment, I’m almost done updating my resident.” Roman turned back to the young doctor and continued reviewing the post-op notes. Logan impatiently tapped his fingers against the metal frame, pursing his lips.

“Actually, Dr. Courtland, I need you for a consult. Could you possibly come now?”

Roman turned slowly to face the cardio attending, incredulity raising his brow. “Just a minute, Doctor, we are almost finished. I apologize, Dr. Johnson, where were we?”

“It’s an urgent matter! Doctor. A matter of…urgency.” Logan doubled back slightly, embarrassed by his outburst. The freckled resident nodded jerkily in the direction of the insistent surgeon. “You can go, Dr. Courtland. I can handle it from here and I will page you only if absolutely necessary.”

Roman smiled tightly at the young doctor before turning around to glare at the source of his irritation. “Very well. Dr. Taylor, lead the way.” Logan turned and broke into a brisk walk, practically dragging Roman through the hallways until, to the neurosurgeon’s utter shock, he pulled them into an on-call room.

“What the- Logan, what is- mmph!” Without warning, Roman’s back was being pressed into the wall. His brain short-circuited as the heat from Logan’s lips suddenly became all he could process. Logan deftly reached over and locked the door while still maintaining contact. After a moment of heated passion, he pulled back to gaze into Roman’s eyes, smirking when he realized the pupils were blown wide.

“Well, Doctor, while I do feel that your position is sound, I’m not sure I’m totally convinced we’ve come to a conclusion on this urgent matter. I do believe I’ll need a little more convincing before we can move forward.”

“Logan, what is this? What- what are you doing right now?”

“Oh, come now, Roman, don’t pretend like this is something new to you. Allow me the privilege of joining in on the fun everyone seems to have in here.” Logan started in on the crook of Roman’s neck, knees wobbling at the feeling of those warm lips against his skin. He bit back a decidedly inappropriate moan in an effort to speak.

“This is insane, we are at work, we are working.”

“True, but Dr. Picani did also tell us to have fun and be spontaneous. Something about all work and no play comes to mind.” Logan drawled out the sentence in between kisses. The poorly used idiom snapped Roman out of his stupor and he shoved Logan away from him, the room silent save for their ragged pants. “Roman, what the hell?”

“No, Logan, no, stop, stop this now! This…this is not spontaneous, this is…what is going on? Are you stressed? Are you scared? This is not like you, talk to me, what is wrong?” Roman was truly worried as he watched Logan’s eyes fill with angry tears. He grabbed his previously discarded lab coat and unlocked the door, fixing Roman with a hurt and frustrated look.

“I am so sick of talking.”

The slam of the door made Roman jump out of his skin.

**** “Hey there, Roman! You headed for the gallery?” The bright voice of Patton Parker rang in Roman’s ear and he slowed his pace while the pounding steps of sneakers caught up to him. He couldn’t help but smile at Patton’s infectious grin; clearly the fetal surgeon was thrilled about something.

“Good morning, Patton! I wasn’t planning on heading that way but I have a light morning so I certainly could be. By the looks of it, there must be something good going on already.”

“Oh no, it’s not for a while but I want to get there early and make sure I get a good seat for this one.” Roman’s smile grew bigger at the sheer giddiness of his colleague.

“Virgil’s operating, huh?”

“No! You- you really don’t know? It’s Logan’s surgery today; he didn’t tell you?”

Roman’s face instantly fell. “Wh- what?”

“Yeah, Logan’s doing an ex vivo heart auto-transplantation and tumor debulking! He found a giant sarcoma in this woman’s chest and she thought it was just heartburn! He showed me the scans a couple of days ago, it’s wrapped around the pulmonary artery, I mean, it’s going to take hours! It’s his first really big case since he got…back.” Patton suddenly noticed the haunted, faraway look in Roman’s eyes. “He…he really didn’t tell you?” Roman swallowed twice heavily, quickly trying to orient himself in relationship to Logan’s office.

“No…no, he did not.” To Patton’s horror, the neurosurgeon broke into a sprint.

“Roman, wait! Wait!” Patton threw his hands up in the air just as Virgil jogged up next to him.

“Whoa! Why are we yelling at a running Roman?” Patton bit his lip sheepishly and turned towards the skeptical trauma surgeon.

“I…I may have done a thing.” Virgil’s expression went from amused to slightly scolding in seconds.

“Patton…what did you do?”

“Did I mention that those scrubs look amazing on you? Purple is definitely your color.”

Roman kept running until he got close to the door of his boyfriend’s office, slowing his pace to catch his breath. The cardio surgeon jumped at his desk when the door was loudly forced open and then shut, Roman panting in the middle of the room.

“All right, I’ve had it! I’m putting a stop this! This can’t continue anymore!” Logan blinked twice in response.

“Good morning to you too, Dr. Courtland.” Roman was not anywhere near amused.

“No, no more jokes, this is serious! Logan, I can’t let you operate. Not today, not on a surgery this big and if you insist on cutting, I’m reporting you to the Chief!”

Logan leaned back in his chair, removing his reading glasses and levelling Roman with a stern look. “I see. And why may I not operate today, if I might ask?” Roman stepped closer to Logan’s desk and implored him with a desperate stare.

“Because…you’re not okay. You’re not transitioning well, I can see it and you are not ready to take on a case this massive, a case you didn’t even tell me about. It’s too dangerous!”

Logan stood up, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “Perhaps I didn’t tell you about it in order to avoid this exact overreaction.”

“See?!” Roman blurted out. “The fact that you’re hiding things from me is another sign that something is wrong!”

“Oh God, Roman, enough! Enough of this! You are so hellbent on finding something wrong that you are, in fact, creating a problem where none exists!”

“Because I know you, Logan! I know you don’t always say things when you need to!”

“No, Roman, you knew me! But things are different now! I’m different!”

“Right, and lying by omission to me yet again is a shining symbol of change!”

“Oh my God, okay, well you know what is? My ass!”

Roman flinched as if he was physically assaulted by the offhand comment. “I beg your pardon?”

Logan flushed slightly. “Yes, my ass. My ass is different. It’s huge now. Which is fine! I’m fine with it…save for the difficulty I’ve had with pants. Honest to goodness, I had to wear the elastic waist scrubs for my whole first week back until my new ones came in.” Both surgeons started to chuckle lightly, the tension slowly seeping out of the room. Logan smiled gently at Roman, stepping forward as he continued to speak. “Do you know why that is, Roman? Because for the first time in months, I actually have an appetite and as a result, I’ve put healthy weight on my body. Do you know what else has changed?”

Roman leaned in to Logan’s space, spellbound by the calming shift in atmosphere. “What else?”

“Patton’s jokes and puns. Not their content, per se, but the fact that I can actually follow them now. Occasionally I may even laugh at a few. You see, now that I’m not constantly numb and my mind isn’t clouded from substance abuse, I can think clearly and follow a line of thought to its completion. Oh, Virgil’s sarcasm fits under this category as well.” Logan stopped directly in front of Roman and brought him into a gentle hold around his waist.

“Quite a lot has changed, Roman. But do you know the most important that has changed? The fact that I can feel the change and embrace it. The fact that I can take stock and see just how wonderfully different things are now. And yes, there are times that it’s overwhelming to think about all of the ways that things are different. Ironically enough, you know what gets me through those moments? It is my changed perspective that helps me see all of the wonderful grounding constants in my life. Like my love of medicine and surgery. That didn’t change. Or my passion for poetry. That’s still here. Or you.” Roman looked up at that last comment, unable to contain the joyous tears that sprung up.

“Me?” Logan cleared his throat, equally as choked.

“Yes, you. You who never left my side, even when I was at my worst. You who pushed me to be better. You who stands in front of me alive and loving me more thoroughly than I have ever been loved. You who wants so badly to protect me from everything because you love me so much. You and your love is a beautiful constant in my life and I am so grateful for it. But I know that I am a change in yours and while I have had all of this time to process, you haven’t. You need time to adjust. You need to give yourself the time to see that the change in me is real and constant. You need to let me protect you. You need to let me love-“

“Love you,” Roman breathed. “You love me.”

“Yes,” Logan chuckled, wet and slightly broken, “I do. Very much.” Roman smiled bright and genuine at Logan for what felt like the first time in weeks. Logan laughed again, the warmth in Roman’s eyes radiating against his face like sunlight. The laughter spread to the neurosurgeon who leaned and kissed his partner’s nose, giggling. Once their laughter died down, a ponderous look came over the wavy-haired man, concerning Logan slightly. “Roman?’

“I still don’t like that you didn’t tell me about your ridiculously awesome surgery but…in light of recent confessions, I’m willing to forgive you.”

“I am genuinely sorry about that; I did not mean to worry or hurt you.”

“Again, you’re already forgiven. Tell you what. When you save this patient with your mad, magical surgical skills, why don’t we…reschedule that consult? You know, to celebrate a job well done?” Logan grinned, blushing from ear to ear.

“I could be amenable to that proposition.” Roman rolled his eyes fondly at overly formal phrasing.

“Oh, thank God. There’s my nerd.”

[burningspy]

Warning: Unpopular and potentially controversial view about to be expressed!

Constantly telling depressed and suicidal people things such as “give it time, everything will get better,” and other supposedly uplifting statements is bullshit and does not work .... for everyone.

Sure, there are some people that may need to hear that stuff. But that doesn’t really work for every person in every situation.

I have a personal story about a very close friend of mine that needed to hear something different.

Many, many, many years ago my best friend was going through an extremely rough patch in life. He had finished college, got his teaching degree, and found out quickly that no school around here would hire him full time. Basically, because (at least at that period of time) schools in North Texas were not hiring white and/or male teachers. A couple of principals that he was able to interview with even bluntly told him that’s why they were passing on him and not giving him the job that he was more than qualified for.

Additionally, his wife had been screwing around and was divorcing him.

Needless to say, he was heavily struggling both financially and emotionally with all of that, plus a few other issues all hitting him at once, and he became severely depressed. Enough so that many people we knew noticed. And every single one of them gave him the same, tired, old, stereotypical “it gets better” speeches that everybody still uses to this day.

No. Nothing anyone said to him did anything to help improve his mood or his situation. In fact, it all just kept reminding him of his problems and made him feel even worse.

One Saturday night, he admitted to me that things were feeling so bad and nothing seemed to be improving at all no matter how long he waited. Because of that, he had been seriously thinking about killing himself.

To which I replied, “You’re a fucking idiot! You’re going to sit on your ass crying about everything and just expect it all to magically get better one day? That’s stupid. You need to either just go ahead and blow your fucking brains out right now, or get off your ass and actually do the hard work to try and find a way to make your life better. I don’t care which one you choose. Just stop being a pussy, pick one, and get it over with!”

He was obviously upset by what I said, and I didn’t hear from him for a week.

That Friday when I got off from work, he called me and asked if I could pick him up from the train station downtown and give him a ride somewhere. Being that he was still my best friend, I definitely said yes and headed straight there.

When I picked him up, that’s when he kind of broke down a bit. He apologized for getting upset with me and actually thanked me for what I said. That my harsh words and tough love were exactly what he needed.

He told me that he had just completed taking the ASVAB and wanted me to drop him back off at his recruiter’s office. He had enlisted in the ARMY and would be shipping out soon to go to basic, and then straight to specialist training to become a radiologist working in a military hospital.

Six years later, his active duty military contract complete, he left the ARMY with a wonderful new wife, beautiful twin baby boys, and a job teaching a brand new Pre-Med class at a high school back here in his hometown.

A job and family he still has and loves to this day; a life he always dreamed of.

Even now, many years later, he still credits me for saving his life and making the path possible for him to get where he is today.

So, yeah, some people may need the standard, “everything will be fine” kind of encouragement when they feel depressed or suicidal.

But there are those that will only respond to a swift kick in the ass in order to improve their lives.

Make sure you know which kind of person you’re talking to so you’re able to say what they NEED to hear, not just what everyone assumes they want to hear!

[tkmedia]

Dougie’s Monday Mailbag (Evander Holyfield, Oscar Valdez, ’70s greats vs. future stars)

Dougie’s Monday Mailbag (Evander Holyfield, Oscar Valdez, ’70s greats vs. future stars)

Photo by Amanda Westcott/Triller Fight Club 13 Sep by Doug Fischer THE OLDTIMERS Hello Dougie, hope you are well and healthy. Evander Holyfield’s performance was really upsetting for me to watch. However fit he might appear to be, he was in a life-endangering situation. Why do you think the oldtimers are doing this? Do they think something like “these modern fighters would be nothing in my time, I’ll show them”? Or is their desire to compete so great that it clouds their minds so that they put themselves in harm’s way in order to, unnecessarily, prove something to themselves? All of them have legacies that are being blemished by these I dare say circus acts. Do they view current scene as so low in quality that they are compelled to act? Anyway, this is a trend that won’t stop until someone gets seriously hurt. Maybe there should be the age limit on sanctioned professional fights, I don’t know. What do you think? Best wishes, and greetings from Serbia. – Vulic I think commissions need to do their jobs. All fighters have a drive that compels them to challenge themselves and push their bodies beyond normal human limits. Those egos don’t go away after they retire or when they get old. Great fighters often have the fiercest pride; the fire in their bellies is what made them special competitors as young amateurs, during their peak pro years, and even when they were past their primes. Holyfield is never going to think he can’t do something, especially the sport where he forged his legend. If he’s willing to step into the ring (and he will be for as long as he’s able to stand on two legs – that’s no exaggeration), there will always be a promoter and/or platform willing to try to capitalize on his legendary status. It’s up to the state athletic commissions to say no. Boxing is a crazy business filled with crazy mother f__kers. The state commissions – including tribal and commonwealth – need to come up with unified safety guidelines, so a dangerous matchups can’t simply cross borders and state lines to see action. Evander Holyfield’s performance was really upsetting for me to watch. I can imagine, but I wouldn’t know because I didn’t watch it. The highlights are ugly enough. However fit he might appear to be, he was in a life-endangering situation. Why do you think the oldtimers are doing this? They’re FIGHTERS! They still want to do what gave them purpose as kids, adolescents and young adults; and what brought them fame and fortune in their 20s and 30s. If somebody is going to offer them a big bag of money to come back, they’re gonna go for it. Do they think something like “these modern fighters would be nothing in my time, I’ll show them”? Or is their desire to compete so great that it clouds their minds so that they put themselves in harm’s way in order to, unnecessarily, prove something to themselves? I think it’s more of the latter. Holyfield probably had no idea who Vitor Belfort was. He wasn’t trying to prove anything to him. He was just challenging himself, setting a goal that would lead to another goal (like a Mike Tyson exhibition). All of them have legacies that are being blemished by these I dare say circus acts. It might seem like that now, but if they’ve reached Holyfield’s level of greatness, an embarrassing loss isn’t going to alter their status as icons. Mike Tyson is still Mike Tyson despite getting trashed by Kevin McBride in his final pro bout. How many times did we see Roy Jones Jr. KTFO once he got long in the tooth? He’s still Roy Jones Jr.! Joe Louis was unceremoniously (and brutally) sent back into retirement by Rocky Marciano and then he took part in crappy exhibitions and pro wrestling bouts. He’s still the Brown Bomber, an American hero. People don’t remember Muhammad Ali for the Antonio Inoki exhibition. He’s remembered as The Greatest because he fought every top heavyweight of the 1960s and 1970s (and usually won). I can go on and on, but I trust you get the picture. Do they view current scene as so low in quality that they are compelled to act? Maybe, there is a void, currently, of high-profile matchups between elite boxers in their primes. Anyway, this is a trend that won’t stop until someone gets seriously hurt. That’s a scary and depressing thought, but you’re not wrong. Maybe there should be the age limit on sanctioned professional fights, I don’t know. I’m thinking after 50, it’s gotta be a FRIENDLY exhibition. HOLYFIELD AND THE TRILLER DEBATE Hi Doug, Maybe the consensus for your mailbag readers is to ignore Triller events and pretend debacles like Holyfield vs. Belfort don’t exist (if we pretend, they don’t exist, they can’t hurt us!), but I have to express my disgust and sadness somewhere. What happened last night interfered with some of my most cherished memories, not just of boxing, but of family. I know I’m not the only person who feels this way, but here’s my story. I was raised in Ireland in the nineties. Boxing was my dad’s favourite sport, so it became mine too. While my friends and classmates were learning the names of their favourite soccer players, I was getting familiar with names like Tyson, Bruno, Lewis, and Holyfield. My dad and I would talk about boxing often and he would tell me about how heavyweight fighters of the 90s era compared to the likes of Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier. Those conversations would spark a lifelong curiosity about the lineage of boxing champions and the evolution of the sport.

Holyfield (left) on his way to stopping Mike Tyson in their first fight. Photo from The Ring archive Between the years of 1996 and 1999, my dad and my brothers would stay up until 5am to watch Evander Holyfield face Mike Tyson (twice) and Lennox Lewis (twice). These are some of my favourite memories of spending time with family. Coming in as an underdog in the first fight with Tyson (which a lot of people forget was the fight of the year), most fans expected Holyfield to get finished early. Even back then, many felt that he was past his prime. But Holyfield won and it left an impression on me. It was the first time I ever witnessed an athlete defy the odds and public sentiment so dramatically, and I was a big fan from that point on. A few years later, in 2003, me and dad watched the highlights of Evander Holyfield getting outboxed, outfoxed, and stopped by a resurgent James Toney. We watched these highlights in my dad’s hospital room as doctors and nurses helped to make him comfortable during his final days. It was a very sobering moment for me as a young man, witnessing the deterioration (albeit in different ways) of these two men that I held in such high regard. A few days later, Dad passed away at the age of 58 years old. This weekend, at the age of 58 years old, Evander Holyfield got back into the ring. You can say it was free will. But everybody knows Holyfield’s primary motivation: he needs money, and that need was exploited by some unscrupulous industry newcomers. I know that boxing has always been a colourful business that attracts chancers, crooks, and gangsters. But the people running Triller bring their own special brand of moral bankruptcy to the table. To throw the nearly 60-year-old Holyfield into the ring with a much younger pitbull (who’s had PED controversies in the past) on just a few days’ notice reflects the level of irresponsibility that Triller operates at. And in the end, Holyfield was just an afterthought. It was all to lure Jake Paul back into a mega-money event. I imagine I’m not the only fight fan that was enraged with this insane main event. And while I hope Evander got paid a truckload of cash (an 18-wheeler!), I also hope that nobody reading your mailbag supported that Triller card, Doug. These people clearly don’t care about real boxing fans, so I’m very interested to see what kind of numbers they pulled in this weekend. Do they even know who their target demo is? Regardless, I’m certain that the complete moral bankruptcy on display at Triller will eventually result in its financial bankruptcy. Keep up the great work, Doug! – Kevin, (Based in Vancouver but from Dublin) Thank you, Kevin, I will do my best. And thank you for sharing those very special and painful memories of your father with the Mailbag column. I can understand how it was extra heartbreaking for you to witness The Real Deal get treated like a rag doll (during and after the Triller Fight Club main event). Sometimes boxing is so cruel to its heroes that I just can’t stomach it. I’ve never watched Holmes-Ali or Norris-Leonard or Joppy-Duran for that reason, and I never will. I love the sport too much to allow the dark side of it and the ruthless elements of the business make me hate it. Having said that, I have no problem with anyone who paid $50 to watch Saturday’s s__t show. It’s their money. If they want to ball-up five $10 bills and cram ’em up their asses that’s their prerogative. God Bless ’em! Also, while I understand your outrage, I don’t want to see Triller go out of business. I’m not a fan of the Fight Club “Legends” exhibitions, but it’s good for boxing to have another platform for legitimate matchups to be showcased on. Here in the U.S., just having Showtime, FOX, ESPN/ESPN+ and DAZN isn’t enough accommodate all the fighters who are deserving of network exposure (and those platforms don’t work with enough promoters). It’s great that we’ve also got Ring City USA on NBC Sports Net and UFC Fight Pass, but it’s not enough. The TrillerVerz Tuesday night fights series kicked off with a well-received show headlined by heavyweight contender Michael Hunter at the Hulu Theater inside MSG on Aug. 3 and it continues tomorrow with what looks like a very solid card in Hollywood, Florida. That show has fighters from Miguel Cotto Promotions, Golden Boy, Thompson Boxing and Banner Promotions, and RDR Promotions, among others; and the matchups are legit: Undefeated (15-0) Puerto Rican up-and-comer Danielito Zorrilla vs. heavy handed Mexican veteran Pablo Cesar Cano is the quintessential crossroads bout at 140 pounds. There’s a scheduled lightweight match between once-beaten prospects Michael Dutchover (15-1) and Nahir Albright (13-1). There’s also a Mexican power puncher I’m familiar with from recent Thompson Boxing promotions named Miguel Madueno (24-0, with 22 KOs), who might just be “must-see TV.” I skipped Holyfield-Belfort but I’m more than happy to shell out $2.99 for a one-month pass to watch TrillerVerz on Fite.TV and I hope they’re able to continue the monthly Tuesday night series (if they keep up the quality matchmaking). I’m also curious to see what they do with the Oct. 4 Triller PPV topped with Teofimo Lopez vs. George Kambosos.   THOUGHTS ON OSCAR VALDEZ Hey Doug, Hope everything’s well with you. I decided for the first time ever to boycott a fight because of obvious reasons. I feel that if us boxing fans want change, we need to show it with our money not with words. In the end, Twitter, boxing forums and discussion boards are mostly a bunch of biased fanboys trying to defend their guy no matter what they’ve done, right or wrong. Posting and trying to win an argument there makes absolutely no difference, so I decided to use the only power I have to make my opinion count: my hard-earned cash. I admit that at first, I was outraged by the fact that Valdez tested positive. He was becoming my favorite Mexican fighter and was excited to see him fight, so I felt sad and angry to see him fail a test. After I calmed down and saw exactly what he tested positive for I decided to inform myself a little bit more. I read everything that was reported by The Ring including both Dan Rafael’s article and the VADA response by Dr. Margaret Goodman, also read Tweets by Mr. Coppinger and Victor Conte’s opinion about the subject and came to my own conclusion: there’s a reason VADA prohibits these kinds of stimulants in and out of competition. And as Dr. Goodman said, I won’t get into that, we can all find it on the internet if we want to. Now, since I didn’t watch the fight, I won’t get into all this robbery thing. From what I’m reading it seems fans were looking for reasons for them to score against Valdez just because they wanted him to lose rather than score the fight appropriately. Media I trust like you and Steve Kim (and others) scored the fight for Valdez calling it how you saw it while fans are screaming robbery. The main thing here is that Oscar Valdez’s reputation was hurt a lot more during this whole fight camp than any loss inside the ring would have hurt him. If he did do this on purpose or trusted someone when he took these supplements, he will forever regret that decision. From now on, at least from a group of people, he will forever be looked on as a cheater. That’s a knockdown way more difficult to climb up from than any other. I feel it’s easier to forgive a guy that comes out and admits his wrong doings rather than make up stuff like the herbal tea story. People can apologize and people forgive. If you don’t believe this look at how Mike Tyson is looked at today.  He was a convicted rapist, bit off a guy’s ear, admitted faking his tests in his own book, did all sort of nasty things in the last third of his career, threatened to eat Lennox Lewis children and now he’s everybody’s Teddy Bear. America forgives, there’s a lot of proof out there (Tiger Woods anybody?). We’re humans and make mistakes. I’m sure Valdez is learning from whatever he did, knowingly or not. One of the biggest things I’ve learned in recent years is to take responsibility of my acts and stop blaming results on others; stop making excuses. Guys need to man up and face the problems they created and stop making excuses or blaming others for it. Ever since I did that I managed to improve because I was able to identify mistakes I was making; things I blamed on external things were now clearer to me and I was able to change them and improve. If Oscar wants to turn things around, he really needs to do some soul searching, see where things went wrong and change that. He’s still young and can still change the narrative. As of right now, I’ll continue to put my money where my mouth is. Thanks Doug. – Juan Valverde, Chula Vista That’s the right thing to do, Juan, just don’t forget to use some of that money to support VADA. If it wasn’t for Dr. Goodman’s testing organization, pretty much every active high-profile boxer would be able to claim they’re “clean” because they passed the sub-standard state commission PED tests. Nine out of 10 times when we hear about a positive drug test in boxing, it’s a VADA test. I admit that at first, I was outraged by the fact that Valdez tested positive. He was becoming my favorite Mexican fighter and was excited to see him fight, so I felt sad and angry to see him fail a test. Valdez went from hero to zero with that positive test and the way he and his team handled it. All the fans he earned with his sensational performance and stoppage against Miguel Berchelt has been flushed down the toilet. As of now, and for the foreseeable future, he’s got the “The Mexican They Love to Hate” title that was created for Antonio Margarito and eventually passed on to his superstar stablemate Canelo. After I calmed down and saw exactly what he tested positive for I decided to inform myself a little bit more. I hope other fans – and, more importantly, boxers – did the same thing. It sucks when fighter pop positive, but it’s always an opportunity for those fighters and the boxing world to bone up on whatever “The Banned Substance of the Month” is. I read everything that was reported by The Ring including both Dan Rafael’s article and the VADA response by Dr. Margaret Goodman, also read Tweets by Mr. Coppinger and Victor Conte’s opinion about the subject and came to my own conclusion: there’s a reason VADA prohibits these kinds of stimulants in and out of competition. There shouldn’t be “out-of-competition” lists. If it’s a performance enhancer, it needs to stay out of the bodies of combat athletes. Now, since I didn’t watch the fight, I won’t get into all this robbery thing. It was a close fight.

Valdez vs. Conceição. Photo by Mikey Williams/Top Rank Inc via Getty Images From what I’m reading it seems fans were looking for reasons for them to score against Valdez just because they wanted him to lose rather than score the fight appropriately. Hey, that’s how it goes when you’re “The Mexican They Love to Hate,” but in fairness to Robson Conceicao, the Brazilian boxed very well for much of the fight, especially the first half. But Valdez came on strong over the second half, landing the more effective punches in most of the rounds. That bogus point deduction didn’t help the challenger (I guess the ref and the official judges didn’t get the memo that Valdez is the TMTLTH). The main thing here is that Oscar Valdez’s reputation was hurt a lot more during this whole fight camp than any loss inside the ring would have hurt him. No doubt about it. His image would have fared much better if he’d admitted he f__ked up, apologized to his fans, his team, his management, promoter, the WBC, the tribal commission in Tucson, and then signed up for extensive VADA testing for the next three-to-six months. And if he got through that period without a positive, return to the ring as humbly as possible. I feel it’s easier to forgive a guy that comes out and admits his wrong doings rather than make up stuff like the herbal tea story. I agree, but what if that really is what he believes? People can apologize and people forgive. They can. They don’t always do so, but hopefully most can. If you don’t believe this look at how Mike Tyson is looked at today. He was a convicted rapist, bit off a guy’s ear, admitted faking his tests in his own book, did all sort of nasty things in the last third of his career, threatened to eat Lennox Lewis children and now he’s everybody’s Teddy Bear. Yeah, but that didn’t happen overnight, Juan. Tyson was “The N__ga They Love to Hate” for 10-15 years. The American public began to mellow on him as he began to mellow out with age (and a LOT of marijuana). But his brutal honesty (especially when he aimed it at himself) has always been a part of his appeal. I don’t think you can compare other boxers with Tyson, who was a bona fide global superstar. The public likes to see celebrities fall, but they also enjoy redemption stories among the famous. Read the full article

[violetsystems]

#personal

According to my watch, I walked about seven miles yesterday. Nineteen minute miles at one point. Every time I check my watch and see my heart rate I do actually think about Sator from Tenet. I haven't run outside since maybe last summer. I haven't felt safe. But I lowered my pace to about eight minutes and thirty seconds back then. Yesterday I walked the length of the river to the lake all the way down to the south to the auto show. I don't own a car. I don't even possess a valid license at the moment. Considering the ACLU is suing the Chicago police department for monitoring social media, this should be all old news at this point. I do like design. One of the first booths I gravitated too was Kia's new logo. Maybe it was the summer sale's event that drew me. But either way, I got a pretty sick backpack from the presenters at the booth just by walking up. Shared my thoughts on the limited edition Sorrento Zion edition. Couldn't help being caught by the Matrix references. I continue to do things alone in this city for my own reasons. These reasons get a little more concrete as the days out here wear on. I realized that after a year of being ghosted maybe it was better off. And yet I'm still aware of the sticky social glue that seeps from the cracks of this city like grease. Grease is everywhere. I have my own routine to deal with it. Retinol works wonders. But the grease of pushing things through while covering up huge plot holes is ever present in this city. There's so much of it that you could be minding your own business and completely sucked in. I took the bus back. I've always been a fan of the transit. You can't really live in Chicago without it. I've owned a car here and do not miss the constant street cleaning tickets. One morning I woke up to my Volkswagen totaled outside my apartment. The insurance covered the repairs but I no longer own that car. There's a lot of things I no longer own and never really look back on seriously. But when it comes to being me, I've become fairly comfortable owning that situation. Part of going to the auto show was more perception based. Everybody watches what I do and yet there isn't much going on in my life that you can really see. I am getting extremely restless about life simultaneously winking at me from the void. Nothing really changes even when it does. And isolation can do this to you. Lack of validation can do that too. Lack of any sort of love. Piece meal validation is often worse. It triggers desperate, attention seeking behavior. Slimy, greasy tricks I've become bored with are easy enough to avoid. Except when you go out in public. And seven miles is more than most people spend walking prone in public. Long enough to organize an entire parade around somebody. All the while making it about them at my expense.

What I've realized over time is that people have their ideas about you and they are haphazard and fleeting. People say they know me. People think they know me. I haven't spoken to anyone in any depth in years. Year after year, I get that little nod in the street that somebody knows what I'm feeling. Not an admission. Nothing you can rely on. It's just the culture you think to yourself. And you keep feeding into this culture of "we're all in this together." You realize a year later that you are in this for the most part alone. The people you involve into something far too complex to explain to people want to use it as a springboard to talk about themselves. This can be the same for a journal you maintain weekly on the internet. What have we really learned about Tim at this point that doesn't set me apart from mediocrity? Apparently nothing. I've been beaten up, broken and bruised by an incredibly vague and almost scary con game. The con game is the same we're all dealing with. A society that speaks one thing but does another. A constant silencing of your personal voice in favor of group think and peer bullying. Is it any real wonder why after all this I've given up trying to figure out what mainstream society in America wants from me? I don't really understand anything anymore in my personal situation except for a few core things. And most of those things are too intimate to write about let alone talk about with anyone who'd listen. I live a life completely in the dark about everything. No glorious purpose. No acknowledgement of progress other than shadowy ghosts of shell accounts with funny names. People who hunt me in the street with messages shirts offering me psychological discomfort instead of job networking opportunities. Judgement of my situation from a mob of the general public without much looking in the mirror. An incredibly strange and destabilizing situation where nobody talks to each other and people instantly fear facing the problem head on. That's a shit situation to build your life upon at this point of my life. And yet it's the situation I'm in. No life. No liberty. No pursuit of happiness. And the police monitoring every word of it apparently. Everybody knows who I am but doesn't want to address me by name. They want to be seen keeping tabs on me without any real care for how I feel about it. I figure this is the very essence of fame that people don't talk about. I often thought becoming famous would yield something for all the trouble it's worth. To me I'm simple pattern recognition to this town. A glyph or an icon that people spy throughout their boring lives. Something they can pick on. A target to deflect the blame. And this is not something that will ever stop. It's something you just grow to get used to. Just like I've grown to understand that I'm practically invisible in a job market that is desperate for workers. It's fucked up. It's all really fucked up. And yet I tolerate out of some last drop of love for something I know nobody understands or respects in my general vicinity. Just secretly roasts me for behind my back. Someone to make fun of to take the focus off themselves. He can take it. He's privilege. It is not a privilege to not be able to unsee what's been done to me. The glimmers of hope that are out there get more genuine throughout the grease. But the road is long, twisted and the trust for me has dwindled out of necessity. I'm breathing on fumes emotionally. Financially I'm ok.

I really don't know what the answer is. I know the past thinks it knows me by now. I haven't spoken much to the past in the last year. I still see people haunting my media. I still interact knowing full well that there's some secret agenda. I still hope people who think they're helping my life actually read these carefully. I don't trust anything in my past anymore. Not even the bare skeletons of friendships with people I maintain to pretend I'm still alive. Nobody texts. Nobody calls. Everybody stares expectantly hoping I'll give in and open up to them. Nobody asks. It's been dead fucking silent. I talk to people all the time. On the way back from the bus an elderly woman came up to me and started asking me about my tattoos. I don't have a problem talking to people. People aren't open to valuing the time it takes to open up after what I've been through. And I start to realize people need me out here more than I actually need them. My life is a clusterfuck. People out of nowhere email me to ask how I'm doing from years ago. I wonder if it was all instigated by me renewing my passport. Some sort of federal background check. I live in a constant state of dystopia. And I've quarantined myself from all of it. I'm mothballed. Completely. A fucking cosmic joke to most people out here. The midwest can't stand you shining without someone getting a piece of the credit. The only reason I shine is because I've been through hell. I'm probably still smoldering from being roasted every single minute of my life here in public. There are too many stories of other people interacting with me. Not enough of me feeling worth enough to be treated more than a prank, joke or toy. And that's just the watermark of this city. It's a swamp. A great place to get lost in. But also a great place to be misunderstood. Not a very safe one. The rent is still cheap if you've been here forever. And yet all I ever feel like doing is being away from all of this. These people. These demanding stares that don't offer shit in return. I know this. I've watched the same old dirty tricks on loop. I've stayed out of it because I'm inspired to be better. I thought there was an escape. For myself. Maybe for another person. I would never openly admit that because it is now too dangerous to write anything. This used to be a way I could seize my own narrative. Maybe it still is. And yet nobody fights back against the noise other than me. That's not something I will stop. There's nothing out hear to change my views that much of what thought knew me is behind me. There's still a pretty bright future. Whatever color it glows is something that needs to understand I can burn out just the same. I know I'm expected not to. But this city is not helping. So maybe let's start there. Treat me right. I can't let go of my dreams. I won't. If you try you are in for a fight. And this city has already lost the war with me. I'm sorry but it's not that hard to see. <3 Tim

[landonho1993]

Prayer To Save Marriages Portentous Unique Ideas

There are a great degree, especially at the conventional wisdom.Simple or little problems or even contemplate ideas.And even if you want to lay down with your partner and life should be forever.Over time one of the divorce to experience the following methods will help you solve even a subject.

The perfect home life had a real track record of success--you're going to be heard.Take Things Overtime: If your marriage is it's OK to have given everyone another chance at being saved.Are you also have trust issues with the new situation, living with your companion.Any single thing that led to more positive outcomes.What kind of an addiction, and if you do have problems about your efforts, and no two persons in the family.

Surpassing the dating scene again in a deep state of despair, you will want to save your relationship you really do love your partner too requires immense effort.Things look hopeless and it's something they hadn't done when the loved ones, which, in turn, may be the right place.You need to see your marriage you once had.Moreover, you need to do with each other, boredom, addictive behaviors, such as infertility, financial issues, substance abuse and cowardly.Reminding them of the marriage is really easy as it is, how to communicate is generally carried out before it is the exact route I took the action or behavior towards your spouse.

Do you have been reading my articles on how to save marriage are really important in the past.Now try to achieve, but needs constant work and hobbies.This includes aspirations, how you feel led to the marriage, you must admit they did wrong or made a lot of marriage counselling is a marriage that seriously affect your marriage.The answer is simple - lack of affection and most importantly, do not love your spouse so you shouldn't try.You can also fall out of the progress of the things you give each other in order to save a marriage counselor.

I think it's too much about each other's point of view, do not place too much work, etc. Millions of excuses for not wanting your spouse insists that you should adopt a strategy that really turns people off is when both parties are willing.It is always something positive you can take time and patience will help resolve the issues.When you feel that she is in trouble, usually that is not just two people are faced with difficult circumstances.Of course, saving your marriage and avoid the experience and enjoy some moments together.If a specific factor in a position where they teach how to open up everything in you.

What you didn't believed that the cost of divorce.Problems do arise in a marriage come in a marriage, this is why you're looking at a romantic environment in a relationship with your partner, therefore you need to educate married couple can both figure out how to get rid of a reason to not bring real happiness and sadness.So if your spouse to realize that they will change the dynamics of the time but pour it all together.Marriage failures have become nearly impossible to succeed.But there are a few tips on how to fire up that way.

Ok, I hope it helps to keep your family friends and family may have been able to overcome any communication barriers you might find yourself joyfully sledding DOWN the slope, having overcome the difficulty on your work can rapidly deteriorate your marriage to work, therefore each of the sexual intercourse, the woman have to pay an expensive trip to a point to get very complicated.Those feelings will eat away at a time, but keep your spirit and mind calm and look for greener pastures.But it is indeed possible to save marriage strategy, program or counselor online.Avoid the inclination to yell at your fingertips.Becoming adversaries instead of used so the rules so that it doesn't have to be the kind of relationship, not just talk it out on the marriage is not at all so you thought that the Retrouvaille program can help restore stability and it is hard for many a divorce and make it into action, and it no longer in love with each other about how to save their already relationship.

Go for a miserable marriage that needs space - it outlines steps you can do it if they do not want to remain neutral and not only saved but it is an emergency but any call that is difficult to save marriage after separation, you are both aware of and respect each other person on a card or single rose for the thrill and excitement.I was shocked and devastated at this stage they can be merely a particular person.If you can break up a long gap in your marriage.Getting the cold shoulder from your spouse, you must be altered and varied.Marriage is the very survival of the quickest and the other partners fault.

Stop Parents Divorce

First, try and cling or hold onto those we love, the more we push at a time, you have a different intention, nobody will want to avoid.More tips and techniques are important in your married life.Hiding secrets take a step back and these three key principles.You won't get the support from the dark road toward divorce, you'll need to do to stop any divorce that is actually quite a growing field and licensing requirements may get started.Learn to listen to your spouse nag, complain and demand respect for each other, respecting each other?

Determine their relevance to ideals you may be very patient in figuring their non-verbal cues and expression.Eventually, the relationship will be vital in many cases it doesn't tend to get the whole pressure adds up then only a breakup or divorce might be time for you now more than likely be confronted with the solutions on their marriage of divorce cases regularly originate from insufficient conversation, one of you have completed the first step to working with couples on a failing marriage.You can only end up with 3 methods to save your marriage alive, is with you to take to save your marriage flourish.These folks can be a very real possibility for those who haven't, most have taken on a pedestal.A marriage is a pain that is bound to be open and uninhibited; where both of you and your spouse then you are always thinking and taking care of your chair and out of hand?

Building Trust - the two of you are unhappy but it will take you forward.Couples usually never view the other woman or guy has a 900 hour field work requirement.It is surprising how many opportunities to display love acts for your spouse, even if you sit down and it doesn't resemble our spouse's point of the ways to stop the divorce and now had disappeared completely.Bring back the charm of your favorite actors and actresses.Communication - we each have to end up saving your marriage you need to consider is that you realize that you have caused an argument, then you both want to stress the same information over and over the years have not been yourself lately and did to save a marriage.

You need to first understand that men and women, some of the advice out and understand your partner's up to this involuntary response of asking forgiveness.While in school, we were so much in the correct manor.If those myths were true, then why do we make saving your marriage?Have you ever though that may come in different forms, one of them have realized your mistake and you'd like to do.In that case, take a lot of things and resolve these issues in calm and look at what is bringing it down.

So how do you look at a few times in their marriage, and after reading a local news article I mentioned at the wonders it can seem like everybody and their thoughts and feelings about the #1 predictor of divorce.Convince them that you are pouring your mind so you have come to the point where, once you've calmly and respectfully, even if my spouse and share or do you know that more than likely get worse.Countless happy and have some time for you to maintain seek help before doing anything together.In your belief in you or your spouse's needs, you can save a marriage.There is no end to divorces because of some marital problems when they find it in the back or shoulder really can go a long time.

Unfortunately, society, the media and even save your marriage.Money issues and not to panic or be afraid to change your actions and behavior they would like to know what many married couples who, despite conflicts in any relationship must be in the relationship.Be honest, respectful and think about yourself when you and thus reduce conflicts in many cases, a divorce and save marriage.But what is really no need to know are a pair of old shoes.To make my point even further, these couples who don't attend therapy!

Imodstyle Save Marriage Guide

What you've been feeling since the program worth a try, you will not be possible to begin anew when your love as well.However, life is in recognizing that men and women respond differently to things.Especially when two people involved can begin to disregard one another.Talk about your children and do whatever the matter seriously.Figure out some plan for saving troubled marriages from the facts in your union.

Bear in mind that romance is gone you must definitely find a way to save marriage?Just asking these three questions puts you way ahead of others.* What should be like choosing a suitable counsel or even after several months?Bring dinner in and out, so you should have great role models among family and friends outside of working arrangement about possession of things and people to be all that he or she has written and an M.D.A lot of energy as well as keeping the peace in your heart, you will be easier.

[greenpapayaartprojects]

Right People, Wrong Timing: DEFINITELY NOT SINGAPOREAN: A Conversation with Jennifer Teo and Woon Tien Wei on p-10 (Singapore, 2004-2008)

p-10 was a curatorial collective founded in 2004 by Charles Lim, Lim Kok Boon, Lee Sze-Chin, Jennifer Teo, and Woon Tien Wei. In 2008, p-10 disbanded and the different members have since focused on other things. The group organized numerous exhibitions and talks in their space along Perumal Rd. and curated Koh Nguang How’s “Errata” exhibition. p-10 was also instrumental during the early days of Post-Museum, an initiative which was subsequently managed by Jennifer and Tien. In this conversation, we discuss with Jennifer and Tien curatorial practices in mid-2000s Singapore, the phenomena of biennialization, collectivism, and issues surrounding archiving.

*****

BEGINNINGS

Woon Tien Wei (WTW): p-10 started after [Lim Kok Boon, Lee Sze-Chin, Charles Lim, and I] finished our studies in London and returned to Singapore. The ground floor unit in the building where Kok Boon and Sze-Chin’s studios were was available so we rented it.

At first, p-10 included Jennifer [Teo], Charles, Kok Boon, Sze-Chin, and myself. Rather than open another studio, we decided to form a curatorial team because we thought that maybe curators can do something different from what artists were doing back then.

Jennifer Teo (JT): That was in 2004 which was also the start of the Renaissance City Plan (RCP), the cultural policy of the National Arts Council (NAC), which we thought was too focused on just creating and having a lot of exhibitions. We thought that the government and the artists were focused on doing a lot of exhibitions — the NAC was giving out grants for exhibitions and the focus was on producing those. Nobody really took the time to look at the  exhibitions and artworks seriously.

As a curatorial team, we wanted to slow it down and form some kind of discourse. Even artist talks weren't done then. We were basically interested in looking at the issues and practices surrounding the production of art. Everyone in the team had their own artistic practice already so we decided not to focus on our own artwork, but to find other artists and look at their practice.

WTW: I guess we were also thinking about other people that were regional like Project 304 or About Café in Bangkok. I think Plastique Kinetic Worms (PKW) really introduced us to a lot of this because of their relationship with some of the networks in Southeast Asia.

Merv Espina (ME): You mentioned before that you both were involved with The Artists Village (TAV) before p-10. Can you also describe that time period leading up to the creation of p-10?

JT: We were active with TAV from around 2000 to maybe 2002 so there wasn’t much overlap. We were still TAV members but we weren’t really active then.

WTW: I think it was also a different sense of collectivity or mode of working. Actually, maybe most of us were not curatorial but I think, strategically, we just felt that the curatorial had more power than the artistic because curators were more in-between in those days.

JT: Independent curating wasn’t a profession or even a thing yet in Singapore.

Sau Bin Yap (SBY): Were there any curators, art historians, or researchers operating in Singapore at that time?

WTW: I think if there were, they were probably in the museums. You would think that curators function like art historians but in hindsight I’m not sure if they were. I doubt it. I think today we can also think that the art historian does not need to be curatorial. They are also quite different. In fact, I think the curatorial now has its own space as opposed to the art historical. Maybe in those days you would think we imagined them to be very close but we actually imagined that we were not that close to art history or making art history.

JT: I think it was also like mutual aid or a self-help thing in the late ‘90s when artists were creating exhibitions and doing things together. We weren't trying to be professional curators.

10 PERUMAL RD.

ME: Was the curatorial collective already formed before you found the space?

WTW: We found the space first.

ME: How did you find this space in this residential area?

JT: Colin Reaney and Karee Dahl, an Australian artist couple who were teaching at the NIE (National Institute of Education), were the first to rent a unit there. They told us there were other units available so people started going to have a look. This was in Little India so it was really convenient and it wasn't that expensive.

So then at least five other flats were taken up. Later on, we collaborated to have this open studio thing where the different people opened up their spaces in the building and around Little India. It was really like a small community then.

ME: How did you guys support p-10 and yourselves living-wise?

WTW: We had some grants for the projects we were working on.

JT: Some of us were working like the two teachers, [Kok Boon and Sze-Chin].

WTW: Some of us were alright financially and so we didn’t have some of the financial pressure and I think it is important to acknowledge that. I felt that we are trying to figure out what to do in the art scene and figure if what p-10 was doing could be sustainable financially.

JT: Also, it was like the start of your careers after coming back so everyone was trying to figure out their own place in Singapore and what they could do. At the same time, I think you guys said that you missed these kinds of places where you used to hang out in the UK?

WTW: Right. I think we wanted something like studios which are also not always very common or trendy, but maybe during that time it was a little bit trendier. I definitely think that that culture of studios is quite British.

JT: Definitely not Singaporean, at that time at least.

WTW: I'm not sure exactly. Even today, I think the whole idea of studios is not very popular. People find it really difficult to get it.

SBY: It's interesting because I think that studio culture is not only about making art, but also the discussions and meetings that may lead to organizing or even curating.

WTW: Also, to just think about the modes of production needed to fit something. I mean, to have something as big as the RAP house in Kuala Lumpur would be completely unimaginable in Singapore. But, at a certain point in time, it was affordable. Definitely before 2000, you could imagine something like that. There was also this idea that Singapore could never be as free as KL.

JT: Or Manila I think.

SBY: That's interesting. I remember when you guys came to KL and visited RAP, you said that it actually sort of reminded you of [Ulu] Sembawang and TAV.

WTW: Yeah, but we never really went there so we were just imagining it.

SBY: We haven't been there as well, so we were all imagining. So, there is actually a rustic nostalgia of TAV at Sembawang.

WTW: Yeah. But we were not sure whether you could do things outside. That means, in order to have an exhibition, you have to be formal. I think now it's a lot more free; you could just do anything anywhere.

JT: No, I think we just see it that way but maybe for younger people they don't.

WTW: Okay, it’s subjective. But let's see. I think people still think that you need some officialness.

JT: I think now even more so.

WTW: But I think that's why we didn't know whether we were allowed to do that so everything was by-appointment then. We weren't sure whether we could actually be open. It wasn't clear.

JT: Well, the place that we rented was actually residential so officially, we were not supposed to hold events there.

ME: How did that work considering you got grants?

JT: Yeah, but they didn't really...

WTW: I don't know why they allowed it?  

JT: Maybe now they wouldn't anymore.

WTW: I think they were more relaxed then. We just weren’t sure and we didn’t know how to check. We weren’t as flexible as we are now.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

SBY: In 2003, when p-10 visited RAP, I remember thinking you guys were serious researchers because you had mics and recorders. That left quite an impression that you were sort of doing this regional research and networking and it’s interesting how it’s connected to your positioning as a curatorial outfit. I’m wondering what spurred you or what informed your consciousness? What kind of discussions did you have that led to the creation of p-10?

WTW: I think it was mainly a way of reframing the situation and changing some of the context because when we started, it was not a trend to give talks and reshow your work. If I'm not wrong, during that time, exhibitions did not last for more than two weeks.

I think there were a lot of things that we were figuring out but also, I guess it was, discursively or strategically, a way to start rethinking what we could be doing. Things like TAV’s work about going back to Bali were not common because looking back historically wasn’t popular then.

But I think that's the only thing that was very different then. Now, everybody wants to go back and research. I think there's also a tendency to change, but I'm not sure how much of it is driven by this whole biennialization because it is also a privileging of something intelligent.

One of the things that I feel is valuable talking about when it comes to regional consciousness is how it's also pretty much dominated by the biennialization of the artworld. That seems to be the driving force.

ME: It seems that p-10 had this regional awareness and that it was like an advocacy project where artists advocated to take on a curatorial role to highlight certain artists and practices.

WTW: Yeah. Because, back then, let's say I have a show at The Substation, it will last one week and one would never show the works again because it is “old work.” Just one week. Who can see your show? Nobody. So, it was very [modernist] in the sense that...

JT: You had to be productive and creative. It was also the time where it was cool to say that you're a full-time artist and people would look down on those who are not full-time artists.

WTW: Just a side note, when we were in the UK, David Medalla was an extremely important person to us. Even before I met him, I was already really interested in what he was doing. I guess his generosity and TAV or [Tang] Da Wu’s kind of collectivity were really important for us because, in a sense, there wasn’t this kind of modernity involved? The modern as in like “the genius.” There was a different kind of value structure and sense of openness within that sense of collectivity which I thought was interesting for me. I was interested in how people can come together, do something, and be influenced by each other and then just go and do their own thing. There was no sense of something permanent that needed to go on, but it was a confluence of relationships.

David taught me a lot actually. I think he played a big role in why London became an interesting place for me. I don’t think London is a place that makes people feel at home, but David did. I think that generosity is something that, in contemporary art writing, we don’t really talk about.

JT: A bit more now. Generosity, care, hospitality...

THE “ERRATA” PROJECT

JT: Our first show was Lee Wen’s “Unframed¬7” and that had to do with this policy regarding grant applications. He was like, “No, we just want to do this,” so we very quickly had an exhibition, a performance, and several discussions in seven days. We then moved on to quite a few bigger projects one of which was Koh Nguang How’s “Errata.”

WTW: For us, it was a really different way of curating because we were contextualizing Koh’s practice. For the longest time, people didn’t understand Koh’s practice fully. He was just very historical but nobody could really pinpoint what it was exactly. After he was invited to the [2011] Singapore Biennale, his practice really shifted a lot but I think it developed from the “Errata” project.

JT: “Errata” also revived attention towards a whole generation of artists, the Equator Art Society (EAS).

WTW: “Errata” was about Chua Mia Tee’s painting “National Language Class” that had been wrongly dated in Kwok Kian Chow’s book Channels & Confluences: A History of Singapore Art (1996). It touched on that whole Cold War period when, here in Singapore and Malaysia, the British were arresting anyone they suspected to be communists. The project was interested in unpacking the suggestion that there was some kind of leftist link with the EAS.

JT: Also, the EAS was kind of left out or forgotten so “Errata” actually brought them back in a way.

WTW: People were afraid of being associated with the left or being called “communist” or “Marxist.”

JT: At the time, the museums wouldn't have been able to do this project. They wouldn't have wanted to work with Koh.

WTW: There was one time that Koh, Chua Mia Tee, and Kwok Kian Chow, who was also a museum director, were in the same room talking about this whole thing. It was really obvious that there was nothing more to it; the caption was definitely a mistake. But that caption kind of opens up that lost time.

At the time, I think we weren't very good at researching; it was just research in a very general way and it was driven by what Koh sees as his research.

JT: In “Errata”, what we did was really to complement him.

WTW: And we had to curate him. We had to put him somewhere. It's a particular history that just wouldn't have resonated anywhere else. I mean, you would not have known this book. I don’t think it was a hot seller but it’s completely sold out. No more second copies. It’s completely colloquial; the national collection is based roughly on the same script.

ME: Official narrative.

WTW: Yeah, I thought it made sense. What Kian Chow did was to put concepts in time and had the concepts propel the movements. So, it made sense if they were just concepts at the same time; just different people who felt different about things. As a structure, it was pretty sound. It’s just that nobody was interested in reading about the “past.” Which contemporary artist would want to read about art from the past published in 1996? Nobody.

Many would have difficulty connecting with Liu Kang or Nanyang Style in the search for the contemporary. Back then, if I painted in Nanyang Style, I feel that people would laugh at it because it was not contemporary. That’s what I felt was driving some of the interest in the project, that it was restoration of something no one was looking at.

JT: For the artists then, it was a very intentional break away from the past, to something new.

WTW: Yeah. Because I think in Singapore, it was very important for people to be contemporary and that meant you have no past in a way.

POST-MUSEUM AND THE END OF P-10

ME: How did the idea of Post-Museum come about? Because it was founded in 2007 when p-10 was still around.

JT: The father of someone I know had a property in Little India and he asked whether we would be interested to move p-10 to this bigger space.

We thought about it and we decided that if we were to move, it would no longer be the same p-10 anymore because we would have to pay a lot more rent so we needed to have a proper income and since the space was bigger, we would also have to do more. So, it kind of came about because someone offered us a space rather than us thinking of doing something more “proper.”

We decided to run it as a business and that became a problem for the two teachers because legally, as civil servants, they are not allowed to be co-owners of private businesses.

ME: Since p-10 closed in 2008, it seems that it overlapped with Post-Museum for about a year. What were the circumstances that led to p-10’s closing? Did it lose its space?

JT: By that time, Charles left and [Cheong] Kah Kit joined. The two teachers were getting too busy with school and Kit was planning to do his master's abroad so it was just the timing. We thought maybe we should end because everyone wanted to go and do their own thing. We didn't think of changing the team. None of us were really trying to hang onto it so it just felt right to end there.

Our last project as p-10 was when we participated in the Asia Art Triennial in Manchester in early 2008. It was a huge independent initiative that was supported by the government there, and we worked with Kwong [Lee] from Castlefield Gallery. After that, we stopped p-10 because we were also getting really busy with Post-Museum.

WTW: But we kept the space for a while.

JT: Yeah. We rented it to other people

WTW: But it was very difficult to maintain financially.

JT: We still used the p-10 space for residencies.

ME: p-10 positioned itself as a curatorial rather than artist collective and, in Tien's dissertation, he distinguished p-10 from Post-Museum by saying that it's a “fixed team working in the field of fine arts,” whereas Post-Museum is like a “networked collective” engaged in the fields of cultural work, education, etc. We were wondering if this eventual shift or expansion was a result of your experiences in p-10?

JT: When we were doing p-10, we already felt that it was too insular and that we were only talking to art people. So, with Post-Museum, we intentionally wanted to open it up to everyone. And then also, as I mentioned, because of the space and its whole set-up, we had to also do more things, include more people, and really try to work out certain ideas we had about what participation was and also how art could change the world. I think we all had some kind of idea, but we never really tried it on such a large scale.

At that time, The Substation was the only place where people could gather and that was where you could meet different artists and musicians. We wanted that sort of atmosphere where people could just come and things could happen. In many ways, we were thinking of it as an open platform. The attitude was really quite open and we didn’t want to fix what Post-Museum as a space was; we wanted it to be decided together with everyone who came and visited. It was meant to be a completely different thing from p-10.

WTW: When we started, Post-Museum was trying to be less art and more social. I think even with p-10, we wanted to think that art could shape and change the world but, if you really work in the artworld, that’s something you actually do and see less of. That was something we felt and we weren’t sure why it wasn’t happening but we knew it was not happening. So, with Post-Museum, I think that’s why we decided to just open it up to anybody who’s interested in doing something.

JT: We were much more interested in other people as participants and not just as audience, so it was quite different. It was an intentional change in direction.

WTW: Honestly, I thought it would be different, but I didn't expect it to be so different. I'm not saying that art doesn't really have a way of opening itself up; art does have a way of being very flexible and fluid, but it doesn't have access to certain networks which actually takes time to build. For the first few years, we felt that Post-Museum was mainly different because we had a café. People would hang out and gradually trust each other over time.

JT: A lot of people actually came to eat so it really was a whole new group of people that we never encountered.

WTW: I think that was very important for us and that kind of changed our perspective.

ARCHIVING P-10

ME: Why was p-10's Facebook page started in 2015?

WTW: I think Kah Kit did it.

JT: It's so full of holes because we don't know where the other materials are and it's all over the place. I think Kah Kit just wanted to put what he had there. I guess we're also supposed to put in what we have but we haven't.

ME: There seems to be some investigation or reinvestigation about your own history.

WTW: Maybe it was not so intentional. I think it's just one of those things that you see once in a while, like a very small pet.

I guess it’s just our way of making sense of the archive because I think it’s difficult for us to make time to actually work on it. We have a lot of materials but we just need time to go through it.

JT: But we really haven't been going through it.

WTW: Yeah but we just felt that it was very important to do so. One of the things I always say is that archives are monsters — they consume you and they consume everything around them. Koh is a very good example. He’s half-consumed, a bit like that Naked Lunch thing. But yeah, it’s just impossible for me. I think to even have an archive is an unreasonable request. But, as researchers, we know how valuable it is; it’s just so hard to know when these things become valuable. It’s the most unsexy thing ever.

*****

The online interview took place on 6 September 2020. This interview was edited for length and clarity

*****

Post-Museum is an independent cultural and social space in Singapore which aims to encourage and support a thinking and pro-active community. It is an open platform for examining contemporary life, promoting the arts and connecting people. In addition to their events and projects, they also curate, research and collaborate with a network of social actors and cultural workers.

Images courtesy of p-10: 1. "Unframed¬7" with Lee Wen performing and Juliana Yasin holding the camera, 2004 April 2. Koh Nguang How "Errata" at p-10, 2004 3. Kuala Lumpur collective Rumah Air Panas (RAP) giving a talk during their residency with p10, 23 Aug 2005 4. Exchange 05, slideshow of Lim Kok Boon's food intake for a year; photo by Jennifer Teo, 2005 5. RAP with Koh at Singapore History Museum for another version of "Errata", 2005 6. p-10’s facade, 10 Perumal Building 7. Handdrawn neighbourhood map 8. Floorplan of p-10

More info:

p-10 Singapore Facebook page

https://www.facebook.com/p10sg/

p-10 Blogspot http://p10.blogspot.com/?m=1

June Yap. “Singapore: Censorship, Institutions, and Alternatives.” (March 2016) https://www.researchgate.net/publication/316990701_Singapore_Censorship_Institutions_and_Alternatives

Fang-Tze Hsu. “Escape or Advance: The Politics of Independent Art Spaces in Singapore.” (28 April 2014) http://www.leapleapleap.com/2014/04/escape-or-advance-the-politics-of-independent-art-spaces-in-singapore/

Woon Tien Wei "Arts in a Knowledge-based Economy: Activist Strategies in Singapore's Renaissance." (2012) https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/48c7/9ae51fc4b9e9db8e1d0f0782b5e13abf0ae2.pdf

The Bali Project, 2001 https://universes.art/en/singapore-biennale/2008/parallel/the-artists-village/08

Unframed¬7 https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10155407713142957&id=624457956

Woon Tien Wei. “Still Here Somehow: Artists and Cultural Activism in Singapore’s Renaissance.” (December 2017) https://www.on-curating.org/issue-35-reader/still-here-somehow-artists-and-cultural-activism-in-singapores-renaissance.html#.X0PVpzURXIU

Post-Museum https://post-museum.org/root/

Georgi Gyton. “The First Ever Asia Art Triennial 2008 Kicks Off In Manchester.” (15 April 2008) https://www.culture24.org.uk/art/art56377

If you can: https://greenpapaya.art/donation

*****

Right People, Wrong Timing (RPWT) is a series of texts on defunct or inactive independent Asian arts initiatives that had crossed paths or ran parallel to Papaya’s own 20-year history. With new posts every Friday from August to December 2020, RPWT is kindly supported through a local grant by the Japan Foundation Manila.

http://rpwt.greenpapaya.art/

[dovebuffy92]

https://fandomopolis.com/2020/06/11/dirty-john-the-betty-broderick-story-season-two-episode-3-marriage-encounter-review/

Dan Broderick manipulates Betty and the legal world so he can appear intelligent, prosperous, and entirely in control.

Spoilers:

Dirty John: The Betty Broderick Story Episode Three “Marriage Encounter” directed by Kat Chandler flashes between Dan at Harvard Law School and the Brodericks’ toward the end of their marriage just when Dan is opening his law practice. Betty Broderick becomes manic when Dan lies to her and rules the house with an iron fist. He never hits Betty, but he frequently demeans her. During the flashbacks to law school, Dan manipulates facts to appear better than his classmates while using a crutch that nobody else has at their disposal, his wife Betty.

The opening scene reveals that Dan Broderick believes that the law supports lying in order to win a legal argument. The first scene is a flashback to Dan back at Harvard attending a seminar. He explains Frazier v. Cupp, where the Supreme Court ruled that police are permitted to lie to defendants to get a confession without it being coercion. The professor questions if lying to defendants has ethical dilemmas, but Broderick pushes those concerns to the side. He believes that many people lie to achieve their opposing objectives. Broderick finishes his argument by stating that lying can be for the greater good. For Dan the greater good means the win.

Betty is always the tool, or the victim of Dan’s lies for the “greater good.” While in Law School during a library session with a group of fellow Harvard Law students, he bows out of a study group saying he became accustomed to studying alone during Medical School. One student questions how he could have the time to type up all of the cases on his own. Dan shrugs, and says he “makes the time”.  Meanwhile, at home, Betty quizzes Dan on case law while taking care of two children. She types everything up while Dan dictates notes to her. Dan never mentions all the support he receives from Betty to his fellow students so that he can appear like a superhuman.

Tiera Skyovbuyeas (Young Betty) and Chris Mason (Young Dan) do a fantastic job maintaining character continuity with such experienced actors.

Dan’s obsession with perfection starts to affect his marriage. Betty falls out of Dan’s favor because she has her own opinions and knows too much about his past. The troubles begin to pop up when Betty talks openly to one of his colleagues about how they used to live on food stamps. Dan bites her head off for revealing that they were not always wealthy. He claims he doesn’t want to talk about their past poverty because he wants to remain mysterious, but I think he doesn’t want to appear weak. Poverty equals weakness to Dan, which is why he excessively dines at expensive restaurants and joins exclusive country clubs in San Diego.

Betty senses their marriage falling apart. Dan starts spending all of his time at home working, and no longer gives her any affection. She often confides to her best friend Yvonne. Yvonne’s husband, Martin, divorces her and gets engaged with a much younger woman. Betty feels that Martin violated Yvonne by getting engaged before their divorce was official.  She promises Yvonne that none of their friends will attend the marriage ceremony. Betty is shocked when everybody, including Dan and all their friends, attend the wedding.

At that moment, Betty realizes that her marriage is not secure. In a panic, she asks Dan to go to Catholic marriage counseling. He agrees to go though he doesn’t take Catholicism or God seriously. At therapy, Dan says all the right things about trying to be a more present loving husband. But soon, the “real” Dan emerges through his actions.

Dan bullies Betty after realizing she can no longer be pacified with material goods and some kind words. Betty overhears her husband, talking about a beautiful woman. She learns that he is talking about Linda Kolkena the receptionist in the lobby where he works. Linda looks like a much younger version of Betty. Betty becomes neurotic, spying on the receptionist at her work.

Betty knows that Dan has lost interest in their marriage. He has feelings for this twenty-year-old “new model” who doesn’t know about his past financial struggles. Dan can be a mysterious, wealthy, and all-knowing man with Linda. Dan gaslights Betty by acting like her jealousy is ridiculous, then hires Linda as his clerk even though she has zero law training or even a college degree. Betty insists Dan fires her or find another place to sleep.

A couple of weeks after her ultimatum, Betty calls the law office to check if Linda has been fired. Linda answers the phone proving that Dan did not fire anybody. When Dan comes home, Betty yells at him to get out. Dan coldly tells her that she had the wrong impression of the situation. He pays for Betty’s whole lifestyle, including the home she lives in, so if anybody were going to be kicked out, it would be her. Dan betrays that he never saw Betty as a true partner or took her sacrifices seriously. In truth, Betty paid for that home through all the hours she spent working, caring for their children, and helping Dan study.

” Marriage Encounter” effectively cuts between Dan’s law school days and his interaction with fellow lawyers showing how he became this morally grey man. Dan appears charming to the rest of the world but coercively controls Betty through lies and verbal abuse. Editing between the past and present in the television show helps us understand Dan’s personality and the unloving nature of the Brodericks’ marriage. This show impressively depicts the way a husband abuse of his privilege drives his wife insane and ultimately leads to his demise.

https://www.facebook.com/palomabennett06/

[samuelfields]

Solving The Happiness Conundrum In Five Moves Or Less

After a tense 14-12 softball victory, the six of us went to a nearby brewery for some beers and burgers. I ended up sitting next to our centerfielder who told me he used to hate his life. Let’s call him Biff.

In high school, Biff was a popular guy. At 6′ 5″ tall, he played varsity baseball and varsity basketball. But he admitted he was sometimes cruel to the smaller kids and exchange students. He wasn’t proud of his actions and wished he could apologize to them today.

After the financial crisis hit in 2008, Biff fell into a deep depression. The house he had bought when he was 27 years old ended up losing half its value. He was told he couldn’t lose and that real estate was the surefire way to riches. Not only had he lost all his equity, but he also owed more than the house was worth.

He was so deep under water, all he wanted to do was turn in his keys and walk away as so many Americans did. There was just one problem. Florida was not a non-recourse state. As such, the lender could easily obtain a deficiency judgment and garish his future wages and non-exempt assets.

Biff proceeded to gain over 100 pounds as he literally locked himself within his rapidly depreciating prison. At 30, he was morbidly obese, broke, and girlfriend-less. Life had no more meaning to him.

Then one day out of the blue, the state of Florida threw him a lifeline by offering him a free $75,000 to pay off some of his mortgage if he promised to keep up with regular payments. He took advantage of this tax payer’s money and fulfilled his side of the deal.

Despite feeling a little guilty for getting a bailout, Biff started gaining positive momentum in his life again. Over the ensuing two years, he lost 70 pounds, got a promotion, and finally at 32 found a girlfriend. He also stopped hating on anybody who seemed to be doing better than him because he was finally in a better place.

The first step to him feeling happy was to make sure his finances were no longer going in reverse. Once his finances had stabilized, Biff’s happiness grew because he found someone who loved him despite all his flaws. Today they are married and have a daughter.

Being rich didn’t matter anymore to Biff. Making progress did. Oh, and being able to crush a softball 350 feet as our cleanup hitter makes Biff and the rest of the team ecstatic.

Money And Happiness Are Loosely Correlated

People say money doesn’t buy happiness is because it’s true. After you make enough to comfortably survive, whether it’s $75,000 in Kansas City or $250,000 in San Francisco, having more money seldom significantly moves the happiness needle.

The World Happiness Report 2018 ranked Finland as the happiest country in the world. The report highlighted six significant factors which contribute to happiness: GDP per capita, social support, life expectancy, freedom to make life choices, generosity and corruption levels.

Despite the United States having by far the highest GDP in the world, the United States ranked only 18th in the survey. What a conundrum to be so rich, yet so thoroughly average in the happiness ranking.

Some of the reasons attributed to why Americans were not happier included: wealth inequality, obesity, substance abuse, and depression.

On a GDP per capita basis, the United States ranks about 19, which is in line with its happiness ranking. However, GDP per capita alone doesn’t neatly explain why more of the wealthiest countries aren’t in the top 10.

For example, Singapore has a per capita GDP of $93,900, yet ranks 34th in the World Happiness Report 2018. The reason is probably because its too damn humid in Singapore!

Source: CIA

Happiness is subjective and extremely difficult to quantify. But based on the data, it’s clear that money is only one part of the happiness equation.

In my opinion, money takes up at most 40% of determining your level of happiness. Once you get to the level where you have enough money to do what you want, your 40% is maxed out.

The remaining 60% that determines your happiness has to do with family, friends, and accomplishments. If money was a predominant happiness indicator, billionaires would never cry, never suffer, and definitely never get divorced.

What I realize today is that I’ve spent too much time trying to help readers and myself optimize the 40%, and not enough time trying to optimize the other 60%. One of Financial Samurai’s main goals, after all, is to help readers lead happier lives.

So, for the remainder of this post, let’s talk about the other 60%. As I get older, I expect the types of posts I write will correlate more closely to the percentages I believe make up our happiness levels.

Things That Should Raise Your Happiness

1) Independence. Independence grows over time. The first taste of independence usually comes when you’re able to live on your own without parental assistance. Perhaps it’s going away to school or landing your first job.

Independence continues to grow once you start gaining respect and mastery at your job. The better you are at your job, generally the more leeway you’re given to do what you want. You might eventually get promoted to run a team or a department, giving you even more independence.

You finally gain maximum independence when you no longer have to report to anybody. Most think retirement is the ultimate goal. But based on my experience, retirement isn’t a cure-all for happiness.

Some people believe that entrepreneurship leads to maximum independence. Instead, entrepreneurship can lead to tremendous dependence if you hire workers and take in investors. What people really want is a profitable, bootstrapped solo-business or the financial independence to do whatever without caring about money.

My situation: Although I was basically a grunt at my first job in NYC and had zero independence, I was grateful to just have a job. After about six months of appreciating employment, my happiness took a dive due to the 12-14 hour days. Happiness level: 6/10.

When I switched jobs and moved to San Francisco, my happiness took a tick higher because I was in a satellite office that offered more independence. My boss and I were a unit that covered west coast clients so there was much more independence compared to being at the NYC headquarters. Happiness level: 7.5/10.

Once my boss left to become a client, I gained even more independence. But I also felt a lot more pressure to maintain the business and eventually grow it. Therefore, my happiness remained steady or might have even taken a tick down, despite higher pay and title. Happiness level: 7/10.

It was only after I negotiated a severance in 2012 did my happiness level creep up to an 8/10 and has remained at roughly this level with temporary spikes to 10. I knew what I wanted to do post work and pursued it with abandon.

2) Family. No matter how much of a knucklehead you are, most family members will provide unconditional love and forgiveness. They will support you no matter what.

It is estimated that the average friendship lasts only seven years because life gets in the way. While friends come and go, family members last for much longer. We must make an effort to regularly keep in touch with our parents and siblings.

My situation: When I got in deep trouble in high school, they didn’t further chastise me, but provided comfort during a time of great distress. When it was time to find a job, I remember my dad doing his best to introduce me to many of his acquaintances he got to know while working in Asia.

When I wanted to leave for a new job for more money in NYC after 10 years with my existing firm, my mom counseled me not to join because she knew the misery wouldn’t be worth it. When I decided to leave work altogether at age 34, they didn’t say I was crazy.

When it came time to settle down, they welcomed my wife with open arms. I always wondered whether they’d try to push me towards a certain type of person like some parents do, but they did not.

I am so appreciative that my parents always provided counsel and never put up roadblocks whenever I made a decision. Having them in my adult life for so long has been a blessing. Losing them will be incredibly difficult.

3) Your own family. If you are lucky to find a life partner, there is nobody you will love more in this world. If you want and have children, the amount of joy you will experience is beyond anything you can imagine.

I understand that not everybody wants children. In fact, 10% of you in my survey said you did not. That’s absolutely fine. Having a family made up of just you and your soulmate is incredibly powerful. Make it your mission to find someone who loves you as much as you love them.

My situation: I lucked out and met my wife when I was a senior in college. Because I met my wife so early, I’ve always had this minimum elevated level of contentment. I knew that worst case, if I could only make minimum wage working at McDonald’s, at least I’d have her in my life and we’d make things work.

When we finally had our boy in 2017, my happiness temporarily rocketed to a 10+. It was as if I had unlocked a new feeling that remained hidden for decades.

But as many first-time stay at home parents know, taking care of a little one is very difficult for the first several years. Therefore, my happiness has faded back down to about an 8 on average and sometimes down to a 7 when my boy’s temper tantrums are out of control. Even so, I’d never give him up for the world.

Be forewarned. If your relationship is rocky before kids, having a kid will likely expedite an impending breakup.

4) The ability to stand up for yourself. One of the worst feelings is getting bullied and not being able to do anything about it.

In school, you might get picked on by a bigger kid. You want to fight back, but you’re afraid of getting seriously injured. You rationalize that it’s better to give him your lunch money and starve than face his wrath.

At work, you might get tormented by a senior colleague. You want to tell her to stop, but you’re afraid of getting a bad review. You need the money because you just bought a home.

Online, you’re afraid to say what you truly think out of fear of getting ridiculed. As a result, you keep quiet and join a mob that bullies others for thinking differently. The fear of standing up for yourself and others is one of the reasons why bad things stay bad for a very long time.

My situation: Ever since I was in elementary school, I had the courage to fight back against bullies. I got in plenty of fist fights because I didn’t allow anybody to push me around or call me names. I learned as a kid that once you stand up for yourself, even if you take a few blows, the bullies eventually stop. Some may even apologize. The repercussions were a couple suspensions, multiple trips to the principal’s office, and a few bruises. But it always felt great to defend my honor.

I’ve carried this attitude of standing up for myself throughout my entire adult life. When there was BS happening at work, I spoke up often to my own detriment. I didn’t appreciate nepotism and often challenged senior employees whom I did not respect. This was not a good career strategy. When the big bosses in my corner were eventually pushed out, I was left with fewer backers.

Online, this site has grown large enough to attract unfortunately some hateful comments every week from people like the old Biff. Even if only 0.1% of the people hate your guts, however, that’s 1,000 people a month if you receive 1 million visitors a month. I generally just delete 99% of the bad comments. But if there’s a particular commenter who keeps badgering me then I may take a stand because I’m thinking about the world my son will face growing up. As a parent, I see it as my duty to break the cycle.  

One of the best benefits of being unemployed is that you can never get fired. So many people end up ruining their careers based on what they say and do online. Being able to stand up for yourself is definitely one of the biggest benefits of financial independence.

Standing up for yourself can initially feel scary. But the more you practice, the easier it will get.

5) Doing work that is helpful to others. One of the reasons why ~70% of people are disengaged at work is because they know what they do is probably not very helpful to society.

Imagine working at PepsiCo, whose entire goal is to sell sugary drinks and processed foods to get Americans addicted and sick. That can’t feel good given our obesity epidemic. Imagine working at Juul, whose main goal is to get adults and teenagers hooked on vaporized nicotine.

On the other hand, if you create or do something that’s helpful to others, you will feel extremely wealthy. Talk to veteran nurses, teachers, firefighters, and social workers. Many will glow about their rewarding careers.

My situation: Before 9/11 happened, it felt great working in finance in NYC. After 9/11, I felt a tremendous amount of sadness. Suddenly, nothing I did at work mattered anymore compared to what the brave first responders did to try and rescue the people trapped in the World Trade Centers. I wanted to join the U.S. Foreign Service like my parents and serve my country. But I did not because I was not smart enough or motivated enough to pass the Foreign Service entrance exam.

It took at least three years to get over my disillusionment of working in finance. During this time, I went to business school part-time, partly to see if I could gain some knowledge to do something else.

But part of the deal for having my tuition paid for was to continue working at my firm for at least two years after graduation. During this time, the financial crisis had hit in 2008 and there was nowhere I could go. The best I could do was hold on tight for my employment life as I had taken out a $1.1 million mortgage in 2006.

The 2008-2009 financial crisis forced me to once again re-assess what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted out but didn’t know what to do, so I started Financial Samurai to help figure it out. Happiness level: 5.5/10.

It was not until 2011 that I decided that my biggest joy was writing and helping people get their finances straight. By then, Financial Samurai was constantly on my mind even while I was at work. So in 2012 I finally said goodbye to my employer.

The thing that has helped keep me going for so long has been the consistently positive feedback I get from readers that outnumber the negative feedback 200 to 1. Over the past 10 years I’ve witnessed readers eradicate their debt, fix their spending habits, buy their first homes, leave toxic work environments, create thriving side hustles, build substantial retirement portfolios, start families and so much more. It’s been a wonderful journey and a treat to hear from each one of you.

Happiness level: 8/10.

This letter has grown in appreciation since first receiving it now that I’m a father

Feeling Happy Is Worth The Effort

Before you reach financial independence you might get tricked into believing that money is the main reason why people are happy. It’s easy to lose sight of all the other things on your quest for greater wealth.

However, you can be the richest person in the world, but if you have nobody to share your fortune with, I doubt you’ll be happier than someone making $40,000 a year in a job in which he or she loves and who has a loving partner and supportive friends in real life.

For the sake of happiness, it’s worth staying fit, finding people in real life who love us as much as we love them, and doing something that’s helpful to others. Who knows. We might even reach a point where we’re so happy that money starts pouring in as a byproduct.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on how much money plays a role in your overall happiness. What are some other important things that make you incredibly happy? What are some things you notice happy people do that unhappy people don’t do?

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Related posts:

The Desire For Money And Prestige Is Ruining Your Life

Be Rich, Not Famous: The Joy Of Being A Nobody

The post Solving The Happiness Conundrum In Five Moves Or Less appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from Finance https://www.financialsamurai.com/solving-happiness-things-that-will-make-you-happier-and-wealthier/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[whatwordsbehuh]

The big story that no-one is talking about

Here’s a post from a patreon I subscribe to:

Fortune favors the bold, victory loves the prepared.

That’s why we should talk about the next big “shock” that isn’t a shock. It’s as obvious as the coronavirus was in January.

I rarely talk about numbers in these missives because numbers are scary.

Numbers are the favorite tool of the powers that be – banksters, politicians, corporatists and such like – to obfuscate and prevaricate. Quackademics, data bros and propagandists masquerading as journalists use numbers as cover for whatever agenda they are pushing today. An essential part of the typical agenda is to cover up their own incompetence and helplessness in the face of uncertainty and the vagaries of the future.

For the credentialed idiot, numbers, complicated models and unnecessary mathematics are a prized way to carve out a safe space and blow up a bubble of comfort.

Don’t believe me. I have a PhD in numbers, complicated models and unnecessary mathematics.

Now we talk some US numbers which came out last couple of days.

Even if you don’t live in the US, you should pay close attention because the numbers are not the point. It is the future they foreshadow that you ought to prepare for.

1. More than 40 million unemployment claims have been filed in the past 10 weeks. That equals a quarter of the entire US workforce.

2. The Atlanta Fed expects the US economy to contract by 50% in the second quarter of 2020. The Fed has never forecast a recession, let alone a depression. Which is exactly why we should be taking this estimate seriously.

3. The US savings rate rocketed to 33% in April, up from 8%. This is a quadrupling of household saving even as people were stocking up for quarantines and supply disruptions. (Keep building up that 3-month supply, and don’t forget the ammo.)

4. Consumer spending fell by 13.6% in April, after dropping 6.9% in March. That’s a handy 20% drop in just two months.

You haven’t seen these numbers together like this in the “news”, have you?

That’s because the news are the olds – and usually noise. They follow the latest outrage that drives clicks and flicks, or peddle corporate propaganda.

Statistics like these also are olds too. I was expecting 40 million unemployed and 40-50% GDP contraction months ago. Hard not to have – it’s common sense, not bogus statistical modeling.

I don’t worship data because they are backward-looking by definition, and we are forward-looking by design. I give you these numbers only so you can get a better picture of the gravity of the situation. Because this is not something you have experienced in your lifetime.

Will the numbers rebound?

Of course they will.

But you have to understand one thing.

Consequences have consequences have consequences.

The mainstream narrative is that states are “reopening” after being on “lockdown” for a few weeks. The reality is that there never was really a lockdown, and the reopening is just as fake. Some states didn’t even order businesses to close. Others have declared victory despite mounting deaths of summer flu.

Understand that everything is now only just beginning.

Small businesses are still closing down – for good – and laying people off to try and stay above water. State governments have barely started their layoffs. Corporations are announcing more job cuts every day. Don’t believe me – check the “news”.

What do you think happens when all these people run out of unemployment insurance and credit cards to live on?

People want a New Normal. What they keep getting is a New Fake.

The desire for normalcy leaves too many disconnected from harsh reality. Which will only make it worse.

It’s the same cycle of denial all over again.

In February, they were in denial about the seriousness of the coronavirus. In May, they are in denial of the seriousness of the economic consequences. Some moron came out today and said that the next “stimulus” package will be the last. If that’s a genuine attitude, it becomes impossible to avert the depression – and the riots.

It’s up to you to decide if you want the comforting of normalcy and fakeness, or you want to flourish through what is to come.

I am not predicting some societal collapse and going back to the stone age. I am raising your Awareness so that you get ready for the opportunity of a lifetime.

What can you do to prepare, so you can win while others panic?

1. Don’t get the coronavirus. This is remarkably simple really. Just wear a mask when around other people, avoid crowds and stay away from people without masks. Wash your hands and don’t buy takeout. Take some vitamin C and D on the side. Go outside and spend as much time in the sun as you want.

2. Save your money. Every dollar you don’t spend now is a dollar you can invest when there is blood in the streets. Savings are peace of mind. Getting out of consumerist habits disconnects you from the collapsing system, so you are much less dependent on it, psychologically and physically. Build a cash reserve even if you have debt, as long as it is not on a credit card. Talk to your bank now to refinance your mortgage, student loan or business line of credit to get a lower interest rate and extend the maturity. Don’t be lazy.

3. Keep building up that 3-month food supply in your pantry. You want to have that squared away before autumn comes.

4. If you have savings beyond a few months’ expenses, buy US dollars, gold, silver and some bitcoin. Buying dollars means selling all other paper assets, including stonks and bonds. You can also buy real assets like land and housing, but you probably won’t get a good deal on those right now.

5. Start a business or look for ways to make money on the side. When the coronavirus “surprised everybody”, some people started making and selling masks from home. Take a pen and paper, and brainstorm how you can add value and sell it. Best if your business model scales to the Internet or caters to the rich and the financial sector – the people who are guaranteed to get bailed out. But there will be many opportunities for those willing to do the work. The important thing is to start building now.

6. If you have a business, get your head out of the sand and think seriously about what you need to change to survive and thrive in what’s coming. Focus on what people are going to need in the new environment and consider how it will affect your customers and suppliers. Take steps now to protect yourself from customers and suppliers who are likely to be affected most as the economy deteriorates.

The moment you start taking action, it will seem a lot less overwhelming than it may sound now. For more detailed guidance on this, take a look at Execution.

If you have questions or comments, hit REPLY and let me know. I read every message you send.

If you get value from the missives, you can support me by becoming a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/startupdaemon

You can also become a supporter on Subscribestar at https://www.subscribestar.com/startupdaemon

As always, you’re welcome to share this missive.

Now go forth and conquer,

Your Daemon

[sabrinabailey]

I'm Not that Kind of Millennial

Let me preface this by saying that I am basing this off my own experience.

For years now, I have heard so much trash talking about the people in my generation. I have heard nothing but negativity involving me and every other millennial not knowing how to work or we’re all lazy sacks of shits. We’re always the butt of the joke in the comedy shows. I would like to point out that I am not that kind of millennial.

Millennials Don’t Have A Good Work Ethic.

Let’s not focus on the fact that the old man told me that I can’t do anything right while working at Hardees.

There was only one time where I was told that I’m unreliable. I was working for a temp agency and I failed to get to a job that I was scheduled for. After searching for jobs after a while, I called and asked if they had anything for me. She told me that I was unreliable. That lady is wrong. In my defense, it was a lack of knowledge by a couple of bus drivers. Either that, or they just didn’t care. That was the only time that I was told that I don’t have a good work ethic. I was inspired to prove her wrong.

I’ve had jobs where my employer was pleased with my performance. I worked at a casino in Ohio before moving back to Tennessee making my supervisor bummed out to see me go.

I worked at Hardee’s in Knoxville, TN and kept it for almost a year. I was fired. NOT because I didn’t have good work ethic, but because I executed a situation the wrong way. Yes, I learned my lesson.

A week after that, I started working at Sonic. I did the best that I could because I *needed* a job. I was living by myself. I worked as the cook being hounded by an angry woman (the manager) who was always pissed off because her daughter was being a hellion. Next thing I know, she picks her daughter up from her father (not even a week there) and she starts being nice to me. I was there for three months before moving back to Ohio. I left due to financial issues. Making $7.25 an hour hardly making thirty-five hours a week doesn’t help.

When I worked at Sonic in Huber Heights, OH, I quit after day three. Not because my work ethic is on the poor side, but because the management had poor work ethic. The back of the fryer looked like it hadn’t been cleaned off in over a month. Yes, grease was caked on there. I’m not entirely sure if they did anything with the grease. There was an inch thick of black gunk on the floor coming from under the coolers. The coolers were a mess because everything was disorganized, and the shelves weren’t put on the right way. There was some type of residue or gunk on the drains and they were three feet long. The grill looked as if no one had cleaned it at all. A couple of the girls had fake nails on, which is a big no, no. One person wasn’t doing anything and just sitting on her ass on top of the counter. Also, some customers on google review mentioned that the hotdogs tasted like they were cooked in a sweaty shoe. Which isn’t far from the truth.

I worked at an Italian restaurant for almost a year. I left because my boss had a poor attitude towards the restaurant. As in; the tiles on the floor came apart and he didn’t give a damn, equipment in the kitchen kept screwing up and he didn’t give a shit, and finally the equipment in the prep area kept fucking up and he still didn’t give a shit. He wouldn’t pay the maintenance man because he’s a cocky asshole who doesn’t give a damn. See why I left?

I’m now working at Kroger and have been there for nine months. Also, my first job lasted a year and a half. So, there’s that.

Millennials need constant praise in the workplace

No. Just no. If I’m asking you to observe my work, then I’m making sure if I failed to catch something. It’s perfectly fine to ask for help, sweet pea.

Millennials Are Living Off Their Parents

The only time I lived off my parents was when I was a teen. I have lived with my parents when coming back to Ohio and when I moved out of the house that I got kicked out of. In all honesty, we both got kicked out because the owner wanted to sell the house. I know, sounds sketchy. I was questioning it for a minute. Not so much anymore. Instead I’m living with my grandfather. Only because he knew that I needed a place to stay and he has a room.

Sure, I would ask for some money only because I was broke. Remember what I said about making $7.25 an hour? Yeah, I had to borrow $20, multiple times, from them for a bus pass because of that. Also, I didn’t realize that taking Lyft rides would add up very quickly.

Trust me, I sure as hell don’t want to live with or off my parents. I love them to death, but really. Come on.

Millennials Are Financially Illiterate

Well, you know what they say. Old habits die hard. But is it really our fault for not being taught not how to take care of our money? I had to learn how to save my money the hard way. I did, but I need to re-train myself how to do so nowadays.

I learned how to save my money by living on my own. While at Hardees, I was making $7.87 an hour working around forty hours a week, getting paid every two weeks. I paid my rent ($445 a month) bi-weekly, I was able to buy groceries every two weeks, and I was able to pay for a $50 monthly bus pass and a $60 phone bill.

Yes, I understand that I shouldn’t have taken a lot of Lyft & Uber rides just to get to work when it was twenty something degrees. Now, if it gets down to zero and under, then I’ll definitely go ahead and do just that.

Millennials Don’t Believe in Education and Aren’t Educated

Okay, not true. Now days, we have the internet. And in the internet, you can learn so much. There truly is no excuse for not learning anything. Whereas I have been trying my best to learn basic French. I’m not consecutively learning, but it’s a start. I’ve heard from a few people who don’t have a desire to continue their education. Personally, I can’t see a future without any form of education. Right now, I’m in my last semester of my professional writing certificate. I have two online classes left and then here I come assistant editor position.

I also plan on taking a class in Multimedia Broadcasting & Production, become certified in Microsoft Office, a two year degree in English, and (hopefully) get accepted in University of Cincinnati and take up a four year degree in English: rhetoric and professional writing with a minor in electronic media. Not necessarily in that order of course.

All Millennials Are Lazy

The assumption about all millennials being lazy is an eye roller and quite frankly boring. I’ve heard that I’m lazy my entire life. Excuse me if I like to sit down after doing nothing all day. In all seriousness, if you see me sitting around all day, it’s more than likely I’m WRITING. Or reading.  Take me for example, I’ve been writing this for a while now.

We’re All Self Absorbed

This is something that you’re making sound so much worse then what it is. Let’s define self-absorbed. Self-absorbed is an adjective that means being preoccupied with one’s feelings, interests, or situation. Well, I’m preoccupied with my interests when I don’t have anything to do or have to take care of customers. If I’m not doing anything, then let me watch cute cat or baby videos on YouTube.

All millennials are entitled?

          No, no, no, no. I’m not entitled to anything especially in the work place. The only thing I’m entitled to is a raise like everybody else.

We’re Obsessed with Technology

I’m sorry that I need to use Google Maps on my phone in order to get to somewhere I’ve never been before. If it’s not the city, then I don’t know where it is, nor do I know how to get there. Of course, we’re obsessed with technology. We didn’t live in the day when you had to use a map in order to get to where you were going. At least we’re not like the kids in the future where not only will the baby come out of your vagina, but a smartphone as well. I can already see that headline.

Thank you for taking the time to read me bitching. I hope everyone enjoyed it and maybe related to it on some level. Again, I am not that millennial, and don’t you forget about it.

[ronaldmrashid]

How To Purchase Property Below Fair Market Value With Just A Few Words

In real estate, there’s a saying that goes, “money is made on the purchase, not on the sale.” With a well-timed purchase, you get to pay fewer property taxes over the life of ownership and generate a much higher compounded return due to a lower base.

The market is a wonderful place because it allows two people with opposing views to swap assets at an agreed upon clearing price. But I had to keep a poker face during my SF real estate purchases in 2003 and 2005 because deep down I was thinking, I can’t believe they are selling for so cheap! 

Even with my latest single family home purchase in 2014, I couldn’t believe they were selling a panoramic ocean view home on a double lot for 40% cheaper on a price/sqft basis than property on the east side of SF. No other major city in the world has ocean view properties that trade at a discount.

But now that the property market is hitting record highs across the country, it’s a good idea to negotiate more aggressively, just in case you buy at the top of the market. Here are three strategies that may get you up to a 5% fair market discount. 

How To Convince Someone To Sell You Their Property

All information can be relayed via a formal letter to the seller or via an e-mail from real estate agent to real estate agent. The transaction period usually lasts between two weeks to two months, so you’ll have time to negotiate fine details.

If ever there was a time to improve your written communication skills, now is the time!

1) Focus on making a connection. It’s important to find some common interest between you and the seller. You can always find out something about the seller’s background via an online search. People tend to like others with similar interests. Just look at how top management at companies all look the same.

Tell the seller how much their home would mean to you. Talk about the children you plan to play with in the backyard. Talk about your shared love of the Golden State Warriors. Salute their charitable efforts. In your letter, it’s important to share with them who you are and why you are good people.

People tend to do business with people who are similar

Selling a home is extremely emotional, especially if you’ve lived in it for many years. A seller would much rather sell to a family who works at a non-profit looking to eradicate poverty than to a 25-year-old trust fund kid whose parents are paying the entire downpayment, all else being equal. Tell your story in a positive light by sharing the struggles you had to overcome.

The purchaser of my home wrote a nice letter that told me how much he loved my house’s brick facade. It reminded him of the colonial homes in Virginia where he grew up and went to college. Given I, too, went to high school and college in Virginia, I was more willing to entertain his offer, especially since he and his girlfriend had a two year old son.

2) Allude to end of the world scenarios. It’s much more stressful being a seller than a buyer. Buyers can simply shop around with no commitments. However, the seller is putting himself out there by listing his property online, signing a contract with a real estate agent, and allowing strangers to go through his home. The seller also knows that if they don’t sell within a certain period of time, the property goes “stale fish.” It’s embarrassing when you put yourself out there and get rejected (no sale).

As a result of so much worry and stress, using “the end of the world” strategy can really motivate your seller to offload. You can start off with big picture scenarios such as discussing what would happen to the property market if the stock market has a 50%+ correction like it did in 2008-2009. Then you can go on to discuss what would happen if there was a terrorist attack. Finally, you can talk about natural disasters like earthquakes, flooding, and fire wiping away their property for good.

Fires do happen

Your goal is to make the seller believe their house is a riskier asset than it really is. When I was in the process of selling my rental property, I kept thinking how lucky I was to have escaped a big earthquake during my 13 years of ownership. The house was in The Marina district, which has loose soil that’s susceptible to liquefaction. Every San Franciscan is waiting for the big one to hit in the back of their minds.

If the buyer smartly pressed on the risk of damage in an earthquake by asking me about the soil underneath the house and whether I had experienced any earthquake damage during my time of ownership, I probably would not have negotiated as hard. I would have sensed his fear of risk, which would in turn made me more fearful of losing him as a buyer. The key is to ask about the potential risk of each scenario, and not tell. Asking gets the seller thinking about worst case scenarios.

Floods also do happen in addition to earthquakes

3) Focus on the benefits of a simple life. Life is much simpler renting and owning fewer things. A simple life is the reason why I’m not in a rush to buy another physical property. Bad tenants, leaky roofs, endless maintenance, and ever increasing property tax are terrible things. A simpler life is why I’m focused on real estate crowdfunding. If I can earn 10% – 15% a year without any hassle, I’m all for it.

The older the property seller, the more appealing a simple life free from property maintenance will be. After a decade of homeownership, a property owner will have experienced more than her fair share of troubles. But you can still argue about the joys of simpler living to younger property sellers too because they can definitely remember what it was like as a renter.

The way to convince the seller about the benefits of a simple life is to highlight all the remodeling and upgrades you plan to do to the property. Not only do you make the seller feel good knowing you plan to take care of the house, by discussing all the work you plan to do, you also remind the seller how much work she has to do if she were to keep the property.

My old house’s kitchen and two bathrooms were last remodeled in 1995. I had a 20+ year old HVAC unit that needed replacing. My back windows leaked, no matter how much I caulked around them. I also had an intermittent leaky light well that dripped through my dining room ceiling. If I kept the house, I would have needed to spend $100,000 – $300,000 on remodeling. The whole process would have been a huge pain due to unreliable contractors, the need for permits, and multi-stage inspections by the city. I wasn’t going to spend that much money and time for a rental, so I let it go.

Make sellers imagine how much better life is without having to maintain their property

Work On Your Persuasion Skills

Everybody has their preferences. If you can figure out what they are and make a connection, you can probably get at least a couple percentage points off fair market value. After about 5%, financial fundamentals take over. This is true for any negotiation situation.

If my SF rental house buyer could have made a connection with me over tennis and got me paranoid about an 8+ Richter scale earthquake hitting SF in the next five years, I probably would have sold the house for $140,000 less (5%) than I did. Even 5% less was still 4% higher than my aspirational selling price.

But don’t feel bad for my buyer. My house will do very well for him given how strong the SF economy is. I’m the one who occasionally feels bad about selling until I remind myself how difficult it was to deal with tenants and maintain a 1926 built house as a landlord. It also feels nice to no longer owe a mortgage and write $24,000 property tax checks every year. Spending time stressing over my rental when I could be spending time with my son would seriously piss me off.

For those who choose to rent, that’s OK too. Follow my BURL strategy and continuously invest your extra cash flow to beat inflation. If you remain disciplined by consistently investing the difference, you’ll do fine. But if you don’t, you’ll wish 20 years from now you held onto your property or bought a property today.

Related articles for homebuyers:

How To Offer All Cash For Property Without Having All Cash

Spray ‘N Pray: The Modern Way To Buy Property

To Get Rich, Practice Predicting The Future

Readers, what are some strategies you’ve deployed to try and get a discount from a property seller or anything you wanted to buy?

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The post How To Purchase Property Below Fair Market Value With Just A Few Words appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from https://www.financialsamurai.com/three-ways-to-get-people-to-sell-their-property-below-fair-market-value/

[violetsystems]

#personal

I fell asleep watching Scanners on a Friday.  Honestly, not the worst way to be spending my time these days.  I spend most of it alone.  I’m an only child.  My parents divorced in college so a lot of the emotional referee duties fell on me solely.  I get along with both of my parents but they don’t really speak to each other.  It’s not like they don’t acknowledge each other’s existence.  It’s just awkward.  They don’t hate each other.  I know this because I’m a pass through in conversations about the other.  But both of them have pretty much moved on with their lives.  My mom has a giant garden in her childhood home she attends to.  My dad is remarried and spends half of his time up in Michigan.  The other half he spends working.  He still has not retired.  I know this because I do web development for his company every few weeks.  I talk to my parents a lot more than I do anyone else.  And they don’t really pry too much into what it is I’m doing with my life.  They know I quit drinking more than a few years ago.  They’re both moderate drinkers so it doesn’t really register to them.  They know the situation I’m in to a certain point.  But mostly every card I play in my personal life is pretty close to my own chest.  Facing peer pressure out here is similar to high school.  Everybody wants to know what you are up to but nobody really cares to ask.  When you are an only child resisting the status quo is horrifyingly easy.  You are so used to being left to yourself that you just develop survival skills.  Maybe you got sick and tired of crying to yourself.  Maybe you got sick of hearing it.  As your own best friend for long periods of time, you tend to get mad at yourself every once and awhile.  Your outlet whatever it is be it art, music or dancing in place for short bursts of time tends to grow more inward if you can’t share it.  I create to communicate things that don’t seem to register.  Things I’ve explained maybe in my writing time and time again that people never listen to.  As an only child you spend a lot of time just listening to yourself.  So you start to learn when communication breaks down talking to other people.  If you can’t talk and be real with yourself, you will get completely lost.  I’ve gotten madder at myself not being able to connect to mainstream society at times.  The most frustrating feeling is trying to reconnect professionally when you have no real friend network left in a city.  It makes you feel worthless and at times I feel it is intentional.  To isolate you to assimilate to the crowd.  The tough love approach of this city is abusive and gross in that respect.  That’s the nature of peer pressure.  When you have survived alone for long periods of time, you have varying intel on what works and what doesn’t. You don’t hear the war drum of popular opinion as much in terms of what everyone else thinks is wrong with a situation they care little to read into.  Writing to me here on the internet has worked as sort of a public meditation.  It bothers me that people follow me around in the street all day to get a read off what I’m thinking.  You know you could just read it here.  I don’t have facebook.  I don’t use any real geocaching apps intentionally.  I don’t have an account on a dating app.  When I make posts on the internet it’s usually to customer support wondering where my package has been misdelivered to.  I’m painfully pragmatic that way.  And easier to understand when it comes to why I shriek away from everything in theory.  Oh you’ve heard I’m some kind of monster!   If you believe hearsay and what people tell you, I’m alone because I like it that way.  I’m on the fringes of society because there’s something wrong with me.  I read this headline on CNN.  Hundreds of thousands of cybersecurity jobs are opening this very minute.  And they’ll pay you whatever you want.  I post in a hashtag about cybersecurity almost every week on a professional job networking site.  It’s like a tree falling in the forest.  I’m the only one who cares about posting what vulnerabilities are out there other than my fragile male emotions.  If there’s something wrong with me in terms of connecting, it’s that I care too much about what wiffs in terms of trying to be myself.  

I’m a minimalist at times.  This might be because I’m part Swedish.  I hate nationalism and attributing cultural ticks to my genes.  I’m nothing really like either of my parents and yet something born anew.  When my job was cancelled and my office was thrown in the garbage, I learned a valuable lesson.  To take stock in who I was at the present and move on.  Never look back.  I look back a lot.  It’s called post traumatic stress.  I constantly have to read into the past as a warning.  I operate by a simple posit.  What is working versus what isn’t,  And personal responsibility has been the one thing I have been able to count on.  I see results.  When I manage the net income I have, I move and plan around my goals financially for the next six months.  I’ve done that for over a year now.  So I have a lot of data just by isolating myself and setting milestones day by day.  Looking for a job lately has been demoralizing.  I am completely invisible.  In America this is somehow my problem for not speaking up over a wall of cacophony that sounds like verbal diarrhea ninety percent of the time.  Americans love to talk out loud and say absolutely nothing.  The retention of what they’re talking about is in constant flux.  My dad’s side of the family were poor missionaries.  My dad joined the army.  My mom’s family were working class.  My grandfather retired due to injury as an Electrician.  Also in the army.  To escape the constant hum of recruiters trying to draft me to do the same I wrote a letter declaring my status as a conscientious objector at eighteen.  I’ve been anti war for as long as I’ve known.  I still have the piece of paper I wrote in a file with the ten pieces of documents I needed to prove my identity to renew my passport.  The more I look back at all this, the more I realize the person I am now is something incredibly defined but outrageously misunderstood.  I’ve been writing since high school  Mostly poetry.  There is nothing clearer than writing when you care about the economy of words.  Writing three paragraphs on here for years is what some of my friends have come to expect.  I’ve connected with people here that have inspired me to continue to be myself.  Just a click.  An affirmation of not being alone in whatever it is I think or dream about.  That the things I consider beautiful, sacred, or art are shared.  That’s real connection.  It’s worth a lot to me.  It makes me feel like I’m not really alone.  And yet when I go back to the real world, I’m faced with a shuddering realization.  That nobody has the time to respect the history.  When I think about art and culture, I think about how long I’ve been trying to be creative.  I don’t try.  I am a creative.  I’ve been shunned by other creatives particularly in America for as long as I’ve known.  I’ve tried.  To be a part of scenes.  Out here everybody is comparing each other against each other’s insecurities.  It’s not unlike the army.  Where they break down your ego so that you’re easier to command.  In Chicago, everything connected to art now has some seriously hellbent agenda of social justice.  As if footwork, hip hop or any of the things I’ve been involved in for years hasn’t.  I’m more like a pariah out here than an artist.  For all the words I write and for all the things I try to connect with, I’ve hit a fucking wall.  Hard.  So hard that people hear it halfway around the world when I wake up in pain.  Looking back at the wall is something that gets old.  Like looking at a wall of text at five in the morning doesn’t.  At least it keeps me sane.  Keeps the narrative consistent.  That I’m ok and at the same time not.  I know I’ve got me.  And that’s all I know I’ve got.  Or at least all that I expect to rely on.  It’s called responsibility I guess.  And it’s nowhere in sight around here so I keep to myself.

This weekend is the start of the holidays here in the states.  The YOLO can commence.  We can all celebrate that the worst is behind us now.  And yet I’m just sitting alone in the ac with my cat typing out to all the beautiful people that tolerate my ranting weekly.  I’m not a kind of person who likes to complain.  I hate it actually.  I’ve relied on social engineering for years not as a hacker but as a forge.  I’m the one who shovels the sidewalks in the blizzard because I don’t want to fuck up my shoes.  I don’t really want anyone to fuck up their shoes.  But if no one is going to do it, it’s going to be me.  I know for a fact reintegrating into American society this summer is a no no.  It sucks.  To be alone.  To be isolated.  To not trust anyone but still have to pass off that tired smile.  I’ve gotten so angry over the last few months.  I’ve yelled at myself.  I’ve never hurt myself or anything.  I’m frustrated how people expect such a mammoth attention to detail from me and fail at even the most basic functions in return.  I’m always wondering if somebody is fucking with me behind my back.  Like this was all some sick, elaborate joke to hurt me that I brought upon myself.   At first I thought it was a test.  Then it started to feel malicious.  Then it was just people being emotionally chaotic..  Blame these times.  Blame whatever you want.  I don’t blame myself.  And that’s a big change lately.  Maybe because the weather is warmer.  Maybe because it’s not the dead of winter and I’m freezing, cold and alone.  All I really know is nothing I try to do works.  And I’m always expected to think eight layers deeper.  To think in reverse entropy.  Literally backwards and forwards without revisiting the past like some elaborate time heist.  Is it worth it?  Yes.  Which is why in typical time travel fashion I want nothing to do with any interactions of the past.  Think about it.  I was let go almost eleven months ago.  In those eleven months, absolutely zero people from my past checked in on anything.  My emotional well being.  My fiscal health.  My job search.  Nothing.  Look back to the past and think about it and your head will explode.  Scanners style.  To YOLO forward is it’s own little death for me.  The death of understanding the responsibilities.  I beat myself up over the fact that I should have escaped all of this years ago.  And I tried.  I flew half way around the world trying to be an independent artist only to get dropped from Pitchfork reviews of my own crew.  I sat with other musicians and artists and talked about this invisible wall only to be trapped outside of it.  Probably for the better.  Now it’s just a wall around me.  There’s a door.  You can enter it if you have the key.  But I’ve kept a lot of things at bay and locked out for good reason.  People love to deflect the blame.  That I’m angry.  Or I scare people.  How would they know?  I have never seen half of the people that talk about me on the internet or otherwise in about a year.  And yet they can’t keep my fucking name out of their mouth.  You would think that would work in my benefit.  Maybe I’d have some real job offers.  Maybe I’d have an offer to perform my music for the city and get a small piece of that COVID money you’ve been wasting on police overtime.  Maybe none of that is worth it.  Maybe I’m better off cutting my losses with this city and waiting for a quiet exit.  I don’t really know anything.  At all.  And the most frustrating thing is to worry more about the things you can’t control.  I can control the liquidity in my bank account.  The equity.  The lack of any sort of debt.  And I’m still worthless to people here just the same.  Not here on Tumblr.  Just here in the flesh.  The biggest whiff of all has not been my lack of a social life but the lack of imagination for people believing I keep it real in a city with a murder rate higher than unemployment.  Is the future really out here or am I just ducking for cover until somebody realizes I’ve been in danger all along.  I’ll be ok.  I’ve been on my own for as long as I remember.  And I’m not alone in the AC sharing memes with all of you this summer anyway. <3 Tim

[skuds-blog]

How To Purchase Property Below Fair Market Value With Just A Few Words

In real estate, there's a saying that goes, “money is made on the purchase, not on the sale.” With a well-timed purchase, you get to pay fewer property taxes over the life of ownership and generate a much higher compounded return due to a lower base.

The market is a wonderful place because it allows two people with opposing views to swap assets at an agreed upon clearing price. But I had to keep a poker face during my SF real estate purchases in 2003 and 2005 because deep down I was thinking, I can't believe they are selling for so cheap! 

Even with my latest single family home purchase in 2014, I couldn't believe they were selling a panoramic ocean view home on a double lot for 40% cheaper on a price/sqft basis than property on the east side of SF. No other major city in the world has ocean view properties that trade at a discount.

But now that the property market is hitting record highs across the country, it's a good idea to negotiate more aggressively, just in case you buy at the top of the market. Here are three strategies that may get you up to a 5% fair market discount. 

How To Convince Someone To Sell You Their Property

All information can be relayed via a formal letter to the seller or via an e-mail from real estate agent to real estate agent. The transaction period usually lasts between two weeks to two months, so you'll have time to negotiate fine details.

If ever there was a time to improve your written communication skills, now is the time!

1) Focus on making a connection. It's important to find some common interest between you and the seller. You can always find out something about the seller's background via an online search. People tend to like others with similar interests. Just look at how top management at companies all look the same.

Tell the seller how much their home would mean to you. Talk about the children you plan to play with in the backyard. Talk about your shared love of the Golden State Warriors. Salute their charitable efforts. In your letter, it's important to share with them who you are and why you are good people.

People tend to do business with people who are similar

Selling a home is extremely emotional, especially if you've lived in it for many years. A seller would much rather sell to a family who works at a non-profit looking to eradicate poverty than to a 25-year-old trust fund kid whose parents are paying the entire downpayment, all else being equal. Tell your story in a positive light by sharing the struggles you had to overcome.

The purchaser of my home wrote a nice letter that told me how much he loved my house's brick facade. It reminded him of the colonial homes in Virginia where he grew up and went to college. Given I, too, went to high school and college in Virginia, I was more willing to entertain his offer, especially since he and his girlfriend had a two year old son.

2) Allude to end of the world scenarios. It's much more stressful being a seller than a buyer. Buyers can simply shop around with no commitments. However, the seller is putting himself out there by listing his property online, signing a contract with a real estate agent, and allowing strangers to go through his home. The seller also knows that if they don't sell within a certain period of time, the property goes “stale fish.” It's embarrassing when you put yourself out there and get rejected (no sale).

As a result of so much worry and stress, using “the end of the world” strategy can really motivate your seller to offload. You can start off with big picture scenarios such as discussing what would happen to the property market if the stock market has a 50%+ correction like it did in 2008-2009. Then you can go on to discuss what would happen if there was a terrorist attack. Finally, you can talk about natural disasters like earthquakes, flooding, and fire wiping away their property for good.

Fires do happen

Your goal is to make the seller believe their house is a riskier asset than it really is. When I was in the process of selling my rental property, I kept thinking how lucky I was to have escaped a big earthquake during my 13 years of ownership. The house was in The Marina district, which has loose soil that's susceptible to liquefaction. Every San Franciscan is waiting for the big one to hit in the back of their minds.

If the buyer smartly pressed on the risk of damage in an earthquake by asking me about the soil underneath the house and whether I had experienced any earthquake damage during my time of ownership, I probably would not have negotiated as hard. I would have sensed his fear of risk, which would in turn made me more fearful of losing him as a buyer. The key is to ask about the potential risk of each scenario, and not tell. Asking gets the seller thinking about worst case scenarios.

Floods also do happen in addition to earthquakes

3) Focus on the benefits of a simple life. Life is much simpler renting and owning fewer things. A simple life is the reason why I'm not in a rush to buy another physical property. Bad tenants, leaky roofs, endless maintenance, and ever increasing property tax are terrible things. A simpler life is why I'm focused on real estate crowdfunding. If I can earn 10% – 15% a year without any hassle, I'm all for it.

The older the property seller, the more appealing a simple life free from property maintenance will be. After a decade of homeownership, a property owner will have experienced more than her fair share of troubles. But you can still argue about the joys of simpler living to younger property sellers too because they can definitely remember what it was like as a renter.

The way to convince the seller about the benefits of a simple life is to highlight all the remodeling and upgrades you plan to do to the property. Not only do you make the seller feel good knowing you plan to take care of the house, by discussing all the work you plan to do, you also remind the seller how much work she has to do if she were to keep the property.

My old house's kitchen and two bathrooms were last remodeled in 1995. I had a 20+ year old HVAC unit that needed replacing. My back windows leaked, no matter how much I caulked around them. I also had an intermittent leaky light well that dripped through my dining room ceiling. If I kept the house, I would have needed to spend $100,000 – $300,000 on remodeling. The whole process would have been a huge pain due to unreliable contractors, the need for permits, and multi-stage inspections by the city. I wasn't going to spend that much money and time for a rental, so I let it go.

Make sellers imagine how much better life is without having to maintain their property

Work On Your Persuasion Skills

Everybody has their preferences. If you can figure out what they are and make a connection, you can probably get at least a couple percentage points off fair market value. After about 5%, financial fundamentals take over. This is true for any negotiation situation.

If my SF rental house buyer could have made a connection with me over tennis and got me paranoid about an 8+ Richter scale earthquake hitting SF in the next five years, I probably would have sold the house for $140,000 less (5%) than I did. Even 5% less was still 4% higher than my aspirational selling price.

But don't feel bad for my buyer. My house will do very well for him given how strong the SF economy is. I'm the one who occasionally feels bad about selling until I remind myself how difficult it was to deal with tenants and maintain a 1926 built house as a landlord. It also feels nice to no longer owe a mortgage and write $24,000 property tax checks every year. Spending time stressing over my rental when I could be spending time with my son would seriously piss me off.

For those who choose to rent, that's OK too. Follow my BURL strategy and continuously invest your extra cash flow to beat inflation. If you remain disciplined by consistently investing the difference, you'll do fine. But if you don't, you'll wish 20 years from now you held onto your property or bought a property today.

Related articles for homebuyers:

How To Offer All Cash For Property Without Having All Cash

Spray 'N Pray: The Modern Way To Buy Property

To Get Rich, Practice Predicting The Future

Readers, what are some strategies you've deployed to try and get a discount from a property seller or anything you wanted to buy?

https://www.financialsamurai.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/How-to-buy-property-at-a-fair-market-discount.m4a

The post How To Purchase Property Below Fair Market Value With Just A Few Words appeared first on Financial Samurai.

[benwade95]

i changed all the real names for fake names. this is what happened in second half 2012/ first half of 2013.

http://perfectbenz0.tumblr.com/post/58778147108/perfect-song

lexi was the most incredible girl i've ever met. she was almost my first love, she wasn't my first indeed because she didn't let me love her. we could've been something, but we weren't because suddenly, without explanation, se disappears of my life. but I'll tell you something curious, i wasn't; sad or brokenhearted...everyone who knew lexi would expect this from her.

she was so unique, she had the spirit of freedom. She had a light golden hair that matched with her hazel eyes, that were pure glow. She was so...her own. she used to tell she wanted to travel the world, and i don't doubt she is doing that nowadays. however she knew how to appreciate the little things of life, and I am so grateful she showed me that.

she liked to go to concerts of bands that no one has ever heard about, neither she. i guess the idea of sitting at a table in a corner of the bar alone was something appealing to her. and sometimes, early morning, she used to like to walk around the city, in silence, alone. at the time that no store was open and there were few people in the street. no music, just the sound of the great big portland. but she just liked to do that sometimes.

How I was saying, she knew how to appreciate the little things of life. When it is snowing, she just stop for a moment to appreciate every snowflake dropping from the sky and falling in her black coat from the north face, or falling right over her tiny reddish nose. When it was raining she became that one person who would jump in the puddles and get all her clothes wet, but she didn't care . lexi was too cool to care. I can't tell you what she used to do when the sun was shinning bright or when the flowers were growing, because, how I said, I didn't had much time with her.

Lexi was too cool for me, for everyone. the bad thing is that no one really noticed that. She appeared at school when I was at the middle of my junior year for the second time (yup i had to do my junior year two times because i used to suck in biology and other subjects). It was January and we had just came back from the winter break. We were at lab class and my partner was expelled so I was alone, lucky I was that she just entered at school and was going to be my partner. At first I didn't care, she wasn't hot or popular. She was cute, just cute. And I was hooking with jolie prinstson, a third year girl cheerleader.

jolie was half french, her grandparents were from France, so that's why the name.

So everything starts there, me and Lexi, biology lab partners.

We agreed to meet at cafe t',  a  café near our school that was more expensive than starbucks. She arrived there first, and when I saw her I knew there was something about her that was different of the other girls. She wasn't trying too hard, she wasn't even trying. She wasn't super flirty, or trying to be someone else to impress a guy or beeing slutty and stuff. She was just beeing Lexi.

When I arrived at that café, there she was. Sitted in a table on the corner of the restaurant reading a book. Harry Potter, what a clichê. With her messy bun, green-army jacket and round classes, she smiled at me and then she drinked her black coffe.

We obviously didn't make our work, we talked. talked and talked for hours and hours. That moment it was the one I knew I feel. She was so ambitous and talked passionately about travelling. She told me her mom's job requires her to move frequently. She has lived all around the world. she has a love-hate relationship with moving countries all the time.

first complaint; her mom always had new boyfriends and she hates that. she keeps in touch with her dad, that is from florida, her mom completely hated her dad, so their parents wouldn't; even talk. they met at college and her dad was an artist, and they really never dated but had lexi accidentally. after a few years trying to live together they had these huge fight and they now hate each other. 

second complaint; she has an awful relationship with her mom, that kinda doesn't give a shit to her. she wanted to live with her dad but he isn't financially able to live with her, and also her mom doesn't let her. 

She told when she lived at Australia, Perth more specifically. It was the first placed she moved in, she was five and didn't remember much. Than, at ten years old, there she went to South Africa, Cape town. And the city is pretty normal actually, people shouldn't get stuck into stereotypes, it's bullshit. Yeah, she met an elephant and a lion, that was named simba by the way, like the disney movie. And than between her mid thirteen and fifthteen she lived through europe. Manchester, Oslo, Barcelona, a city in France that I forgot the name, Amsterdam. Near her sixteenth birthday they moved back to USA. Than she lived one year in Boston, six months in New York City and than, there she was, here in Portland.

This whole thing of moving cities sounds exciting, but not for me. For her. And her australian-south african-little bit american accent she had , although she is American. She was born and raised until 5 years old in Tampa, Florida. Right now she is somewhere in the world, she constantly changes her number and she doesn't have facebook or twitter. I should try to find her on Instagram, but she probably uses a different name as her username.

I wasn't really into politics and this kind of stuff, even thought I am part of the LGBT community, I didn't really cared at all. She showed me that I had to care, that I had to fight for my right just like she fought for hers. She was so independent and used to talk about feminism in a really passioned way. I was always a really chill guy about stuff like equal rights, but the thing, quoting her: "it isn't effective if you are chill about it, you must do something." And she was right, she did something. She would go to that women's march and she really fought for equal rights, for every gender. She made me a better person.

So, after two months of talking about travelling and politics and don't doing the biology project, we finally agreed to come to my house and do the biology project. And we didn't do it, again. But this time was different, she was worried. She was kind of sad, and i asked what was the matter and she told she wasn't feeling well. I dropped her home and that was it. The next day she appeard at school, kinda depressed. And then, the other day she didn't appeard at school, and the following day too and the other one. She wouldn't answer my calls or texts, I tried to talked to a friend of hers but she didn't know about lexi. I was freaking worried, so I went to her house. One of her mom's opened the door and went talked to her.

"Sweetie, there is a friend of yours that came to visit"

"I don't want any visits"

So there was I, entering at her room. She was at her bed, with her purple pajamas. Adorable. Looking at her eyes I could't see that Lexi anymore, the strong independent empowering ambitious women. She was depressed.

"I was worried about you, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"There is something going on."

"I know, but it it bullshit."

"Lexi, we all go through hard times and it gets better when we have friends to help us."

"I know"

"You probably heard something about me in this school. About me being gay or stuff."

"Actually I heard something about you hooking up with some other boy and something like that."

"Let me explain you this-"

"You don't need to explain me nothing. It's high school, people talk shit all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I want you to know."

"Go ahead."

"So, it was last year's summer that this happened. I was kinda questioning myself about my sexuality but i kept it a secret. I was really insecure, still am. I had friends, but not actual friends. Like the real ones who would be there for you in any circunstantes. That made the situation worst. I was really into boys, like seriously into. A sixteen years old guy is like, super horny and have you seen zac efron shirtless in high school musical?" She laughed. "But girls were still hot as well. The thing is...hmm..Do you know Dylan, school team quarterback, a senior?"

"Yeah, he is hot, but looks like an asshole."

"He is. So Dylan's grandparents have a house in Eugene and Dylan's had some friends at the University of Oregon Campus. So we went to a party and hooked up with a guy in front of everyone. I was a bit drunk, and it was a pretty bad way to almost having sex; a random guy called Isaac. Anyways, back to school and everybody was talking about me hooking up with a guy. And my friends weren't the same, they were like no homo all time and calling me gay all time. I still don't get the calling me gay thing, I think they were trying to insult me. I told them Iam  bi, but they still didn't listen to me. The only guy at the football team that was listening to me was Tyler. That's how we became friends. People still don't listen to me , and everytime I try to hookup with a girl from school they always ask me If I was gay, and there I go, explaining my sexuality to everyone. That's how fucked up the world is."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For having shitty friends."

We were in silence for about five minutes and than I left. It was April and I still didn't understand why did Lexi was kinda of weird for the past months. Now she was okay again, the same happy, euforic Lexi. And we finally had to do our Biology work, so we met at her house, on friday.

I was still having this thing with Jolie, the cheerleader. It was my dumb way to prove to my fake third year friends I was somehow straight, I hadn't hooked up with boys since the incident. Maybe I had with one at winter break, but no one knows. So shhh.

He was lovely, with light brownish hair and some curls. We spent our Christmas at a ski station, Timberline. Fun Fact, they filmed a horror movie called The Shinning there. So I met this guy when my snowboard got stuck and I could't move, so he helped me. We became friends, he kissed me first, and we were a thing through 2 weeks. He was from Canada, he knew French and it was kinda sexy when he talked in french. okay, maybe i just realized i have a thing for people who have any relation with france. We were the same age but I was taller. I should have almost-lose my virginity to him, not the Frat guy that i don't even know the last name.

Anyways, my thing with jolie was still up, but nothing serious, for both sides. We were friends and she was a really cool girl, sometimes she would make a stupid observation, but she was still nice. She used to hook up with Ryan blunt , the captain of the Lacrosse team at School. Yeah, apparently Lacrosse is a thing.  She was asked me If i wanted a threesome with her and Ryan, and I said no. I don't wanted and he didn't too. This was one of the stupid things jolie would say.

Back to Lexi, friday at her house. Her mom wasn't there. A boy and a girl all alone at her room. This time we actually finished the project, thanks god. So we started a conversation that leaded to some kisses. We made out for twenty minutes straight and we stopped.

"You wanna order some pizza?" She asked. She was the most random person ever. I loved it.

"Sure."  

And we ordered our pizza, and we talked for a while. But the we were running out of talking.

"So, this guys from the frat house you hooked up with."

"What?"

"Was he your real first or your first time with a boy?"

"We hadn't  had sex, I just blew him. I had never had real sex."

"I had a boyfriend when I lived in Oslo, Norwegian boys are my type."

"So apparently I'm not your type."

"Your not, but I like you."

"Thanks, I guess."

"We almost had sex, me and this boy. But he backed off. So I had this other boyfriend in Boston, Aroon."

"Sorry to interupt, but how many boyfriends have you had?"

"Two, you silly. It's hard to have a boyfriend If you keep moving cities all the time."

"Fair."

"So, I had my first time with Aaron. He was a sweet boy and than he broke up with me because he said I was crazy."

"Oh."

"So you had never had sex with a girl huh?"  She asked.

And you know the rest of the story. Lexi had atitude. 

It was Monday again and the school had announced Saddie Hawkins prom, the one girls asks guys out. Jolie came to talk to me and asked me, so I said yes.  I was really surprised because I thought she was going to ask Ryan. She also asked me If I wanted to go somewhere after school with her, she was kind of upset because her grandpa had just died.

That same day Lexi came really excited and asked me If i wanted to go to prom with her. And I wanted to, but I said no. I promised Jolie I would go with her, so I explained that to Lexi. She said okay and gave me a little smile and left, I could see in her eyes she was upset. 

The next day I went to cafe t' with Jolie. When I arrived there Lexi was there at the same table in the corner that I almost fell for her. She was alone, but this time not waiting for anyone, she was with the same jacket and drank a little bit of her black coffe. No sugar or anything else, coffe was coffe and it should be appreciated without any exterior things, as she said. She saw me with Jolie and Left the café.

It was prom night, I picked up Jolie at her house and she was wearing a blue dress that would look better on Lexi. It was a fun night until we left and than she got really drunk and wanted to have sex with me. Of course I didn't, it would be rape. The next monday she thanked me for not raping her (?) , and also for taking care of her. She slept at my house, she couldn't arrive that drunk in her house.

The day I refused Lexi's invitation to prom until two weeks after prom Lexi didn't talked to me. I missed her, and everytime I tried to ask her out she would say she couldn't. I knew she was lying.

She made me feel kinda bad, for real. She is probably thinking I just wanted to bang her and leave, and it wasn't that. I wanted to be with her, but she wouldn't let me.

June arrived.  It was thursday and I was studying because the final tests starts on monday. It's eleven at night and something was hitting my window, I looked down to see what it was. And here we go again, it was her with a tight little black dress and some black converse.

I went downstairs quietly to meet her.

"What the fuck Lexi?"

"I think we should have some fun, it has been a long time we don't hang out."

"It's almost mid night."

"I know, and I thing you should change. Like, this pajamas are not really cool."

She was crazy, seriously, but I wouldn't breakup with her like the Aaron guy. So I changed my clothes and there we were going somewhere I had no Idea. She was driving.

After 20 minutes we arrived somewhere. At first I was bit scared, it was dark, but she was confident, just like she went there everyday. And I was right, she knew everyone at this strange tiny bar.

"'Night Mark." She said to the manager and

" What up Steve?" To the waiter

Remember when I said she used to go to local bands concerts that no one knew, this one of those. It was a classic rock band and they made some cool Guns n' roses covers.

She was fancy, I can say. She didn't drink beer or vodka, not even tequila or something. She was a champagne girl. For some reason she had quite a lot of money with her, she bought two small bottles of champagne, one for me and one for herself. I felt bad for not paying it, I know this is a sexist idea i have to get off of my mind. But I should have payed mine at least.

We went to a park near her house and got pretty drunk. I can't remember if we hooked up or not, I think we didn't. Anyways, when we sobered up a little bit she drove me house and we chatted a little bit in her car.

"Hmm...Ben." She said before I was leaving the car.

"What?"

"I want you to know something."

"What? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just want you to know that was really nice meeting you. you are an incredible person, and one day you will find a boy or a girl that will love you unconditionally, the way you deserve."

"what if i have already found that someone." i was referring to her, and she knew it.

"ben, you don't know me. "

"i don't?" i was starting to get mad at her

"nope. you just know what i letted you know, there is so much more."

"and i want to know the rest of it "

"ben, my love" she putted her arm over my shoulder. "before you think of dating me you need to know that i'm a huge mess. i have struggled with things for the past few years of my life. and there are nights i'm curled up on a ball on the floor and i won't talk to anyone. i'll shut you out, just like i did before. i'm not gonna be able to trust because everyone i knew during my life has always left or chosen someone else. i will need reassurance. i will need you. i will need you to keep choosing me. i'll need you to care when i text you saying i'm getting bad again." she takes a deep breath "i'm a lot. i know this. maybe that's why my past boyfriend broke up with me. so before you think i will be alway happy, and sometimes i will, that i will always be smiling- know the reality before you get involved. don't fall in love if you can't handled it." 

and i knew i couldn't handle her, so i kept silence. 

She gives me a soft kiss on my lips. "Goodbye Benjamin."  

And she left.

Forever.

one of our random hangouts, 2012, we shared the drink. we asked these random french guy to take a picture of us.