#so sad i have to go back to my rotation of the same four meals now that my parents have gone back home lol

[lillianfromaccounting]

This ended up being a very long post and I'm on mobile, so I'll fix the read more in the morning when I get on the computer.

TW: covid, depression, Thanksgiving, a lot of food talk

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Today, we officially called off Thanksgiving with family (it had pretty much been decided but today we called the few people to confirm it).

Some background: my family only started celebrating Thanksgiving because I wanted to. We're Chinese, so growing up, it wasn't a thing for us, plus my mom wasn't fond of turkey.

At the age of 13, I picked up a bread baking recipe book at a Scholastic book drive. Up until that point, I had been baking stuff from box mixes, so making bread from scratch was a huge deal for me. Age 14, I told my parents I wanted to do Thanksgiving the American way. We qualified for a free turkey at our local supermarket anyway, so why not? To make it more palatable, I incorporated Chinese elements into the menu--various Chinese vegetables (choy) instead of green bean casserole, sticky rice (loh mai fan) stuffing--and i would bake fresh bread. There would always be white rice.

I have a huge extended family and on the weekends, my parents would have family and friends over to play mahjong, so Thanksgiving went over great because they loved trying all these new foods, and I loved trying new recipes. We always had a rotation of at least thirty people, so the food went. I think one year, I counted just over fifty people--it was like a revolving door at my parents' house, some people would pop in around lunch time and hang out until they had to go to their own family's Thanksgiving dinners, some came for dinner, and some came for dessert and coffee with a side of mahjong.

As the years went on, my menus got more and more elaborate, and I would enlist my younger siblings (I have three) to be my sous chefs. It was a THING. Thanksgiving was my thing.

The college I went to is very involved with the Macy's Thanksgiving parade balloons, and while it would have been an awesome experience, it required giving up your Wednesday night and most of Thanksgiving Thursday. That was a deal breaker for me. That's how much my Thanksgiving ritual meant to me.

Some of my favorite memories are waiting in line at DiPalo's (before they expanded, back when it was just the corner storefront) with my sister the weekend before Thanksgiving to get fresh mozzarella and ricotta and parmigiano (lasagna was a huge hit with my family). The longest we waited was three hours one year.

Another year, this was after I had graduated and moved out and was working. My work let us out early (around 2pm), but this asshat in another department ensured me that he needed these numbers so he can work over the weekend. I ended up running out to DiPalo's to pick up my order and going back to work, working to 9pm to get those numbers out, before going back to my parents' house to start cooking. The asshat didn't look at them that weekend (we get the Friday off too).

Mind you, it's not that I couldn't get the ingredients in Jersey, I just honestly had no idea where to go. My parents did the bulk of their grocery shopping in Chinatown and DiPalo's was right at the border of Chinatown and Little Italy.

As I said earlier, my menus got more elaborate over the years. Everyone kept eating the loaves of fresh bread for breakfast, so I made Thanksgiving an all day affair, with a breakfast, lunch, and dinner menu.

One year, the theme was fried foods (fried turkey legs, homemade mozzarella sticks, etc.). I always tried new recipes on Thanksgiving, because honestly, what I enjoyed most about it was the process, the production of creating something delicious.

My siblings started sending me recipes throughout the year. One year, I made a vegan raspberry cheesecake (the base was cashews and almonds).

My siblings also said that they knew my now husband was a keeper because he had not only survived Thanksgiving at my parents' house, but he rolled with it (I'm pretty sure I put him to work too).

After we got married and bought our house, I claimed Thanksgiving for both sides of the family (there were no objections, because I didn't care about Christmas, so they had Christmas). My husband's family had been getting their Thanksgiving meals catered for a few years at this point, so they didn't mind not cooking.

But including his family meant I had to start making sacrifices to my process. One person only liked Stove Top stuffing (don't get me wrong, Stove Top chicken flavor is amazing, but so is a sausage stuffing from scratch). The year my second child was born, I think I was a bit burned out by everything, so we ended up ordering a whole pig (think spit roast, but Chinese style) and some roast ducks that year. We were told the next year that some people would prefer to have turkey. One year, we decided to smoke our turkey, and the feedback we had gotten was that some people really preferred oven roasted. So the following year, we did turkey three ways (roasted, smoked, and deep fried) and we started getting feedback that we were doing too much variety. This happened with the sides too. Heirloom vegetable recipes (guys, I used to watch the Food Network religiously) were reduced to sauteed green beans or asparagus. We were told to reduce the variety of things, so the only pasta dish that kept making it onto the menu was mac and cheese, because that was someone else's preference. And I couldn't even play around with the mac and cheese, because the family's recipe used Velveeta (yes, I know I sound like a food snob, and it's because I was back then).

But year after year, the creativity of the menu decreased and decreased, to the point where my husband and I felt it wasn't enjoyable anymore.

This morning, after we had called the family (it was really just my and his parents, whom we have been seeing during this whole time because we live close and do shopping for them, etc.), part of me was excited to finally make a menu and my husband and I agreed on a very small menu, because it's just us and our two kids.

And by the time I went to bed, I was excited again for Thanksgiving because we will be cooking things that we want. There are three, possibly four varieties of scones on the breakfast menu right now. I haven't mentioned this yet, but my menus are always too ambitious. I almost never get every single dish on the table, but the important ones get there. The experimental ones get ranked in order of what I want to taste.

After all these years, we have established staples. We always have bacon cheddar scones with breakfast. My sons requested chocolate chip and vanilla, respectively, and I want pumpkin. We'll see how many varieties actually get made. I always make fresh cranberry sauce for the sole reason of baking it into a crumb cake for Friday morning. We also eat the Ocean Spray jellied (with whole berries), and I serve it in slices. My husband is the mashed potato king, so he handles that. The King Arthur masala chai pumpkin pie recipe has been a hit year after year, so that is a staple now. I was excited to be able to cook what we wanted again.

It even inspired a Thanksgiving chapter in the fic I am writing. (I am so, so, so happy and excited for this chapter now.)

But as I was going to bed tonight, I was thinking about those memories at DiPalo's and cooking with my siblings, and pandemic sadness hit me like a ton of bricks. I cried hard. I miss my siblings. I miss the hospitality of it all. Just like my parents' house was a revolving door, when my husband and I took over Thanksgiving, it was an unspoken rule that extended friends and family were welcomed. My siblings' friends from high school and college would stop by. My one sister's friend would even ask to be on the menu distribution list (I usually drafted a menu and my family members would vote on which dishes they wanted, and that was partially how the menu was created) and invite himself over lol.

I miss that company--the people who understood my Thanksgiving--my family. I haven't seen (in person) one sister since January and the other since March. And while we're constantly talking to each other and do the occasional video chat, it's just not the same.

If you read this far, thank you for your time and energy.

I don't have a point to this post, except maybe wear a fucking mask and stay home, so we can eventually beat this pandemic and resume some semblance of pre-covid life.

And I know this post is very much a first world problem. We have enough to eat and a warm roof over our heads. I am very grateful for that. But I am allowed to be sad too. This year would have been my 25th anniversary with Thanksgiving.

Writing all this out really helped though.

[hardyimagines]

Teardrops

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Hey 💗 could I request something with Reggie please, like maybe he is going to prison or is just getting released. Quite fluffy please ❤️❤️ love your work so much!

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Salty tears stained every crevice of the crummy apartment. Meals were contaminated with the droplets that refused to stop falling from the glistening orbs that hovered above the food. Paper crumpled beneath the saltwater. Flowers died along with the woman, you, sat at the table. The surface was cold against your hot face, heated and sticky from crying all day. Your body was as drained as your tear ducts, skin glued to the table uncomfortably from having sat there for so long. The bowl of cereal beside your elbow was soggy and beginning to smell. The glass of water beside the bowl was filled to the brim still, lukewarm and no longer appealing.

How long had you been sat at the table? An hour? A day? A week?

It was all fuzzy. The room seemed much colder despite the heat that pumped through the vents. Your neck was stiff and your body was aching. You needed to stand, to stretch, to wiggle some amount of life into your body, but you remained slouched against the table. You felt like you were in mourning — despite the fact that you were only behaving like this because your husband had been hauled off to prison. Your new husband. Your eyes closed droopily, burning from exhaustion and dryness. No amount of tears soothed the itchy feeling, it merely irritated you further. Each time your eyes closed, you were brought back to that day.

—

September 16. Six days prior.

The sun was vacant today. Clouds overrode the length of the sky, casting their grey shield down on the world below. It didn’t matter to you, nor to your new husband. The couch creaked beneath you as you shuffled your weight on the cushion. Your legs were kicked up, draped over the arm of the sofa, ankles rotating lazily as you read the book in your hands. The apartment smelled severely of burning toast, but no matter how many times you called out to help the man in the kitchen, he’d grumble and then shout about how he was a big boy and he could make his wife some breakfast. You’d only been married for four days, three of which were spent on honeymoon. This was your first day at home as a married couple — and it was bliss.

Reggie Kray made his way into the living room, solid black piece of bread, smothered in jelly, placed on a cracked dish in his shaking palm. In his other hand, he held a steaming glass of coffee and despite the fact that the toast probably wasn’t edible and the coffee no doubt needed four packets of sugar and some milk, you sat up with a wide grateful grin. He had a look of concern and hope on his features, lines forming on his forehead as he concentrated on delivering the breakfast to you. You stood with the same smile and pressed a grateful kiss to his lips. Even though he’d messed up, at least he’d still tried.

“Toaster’s fucking broken, darl. There’s no way I, yeah, couldn’t make something as simple as a warm piece of bread. Nah, that stuff,” He pointed to the charred meal. “really i’nt my fault.” He leaned in to give you another kiss and you happily accepted it before turning to look at the food.

“I don’t have to eat it, do I?” The look on your face was guilty. You’d rather eat a disgustingly hard piece of shit than upset him, but the relief that washed over him when you were honest about not wanting to eat it made him snatch the plate and hurriedly rid of it. You giggled quietly at his eagerness to throw the toast away, before you followed him into the kitchen. “I’m not really that hungry, Reggie, really, it’s okay. Come sit with me before you have to go off to work.” The man wore a lazy smile before he set the plate in the sink. He twisted around to face you with a lopsided grin, one that told you he didn’t want to just sit while you read. He hoisted you up and on to his hips before moving back into the living room.

“Sit and what?” He asked hoarsely, lips inches from your own as he carried you to the destination.

“Talk.” You cooed teasingly. Brushing his strands out of his face because he hadn’t gelled them down just yet, you stole a few more kisses before letting out a shaky gasp when he discarded you on the sofa. He was milliseconds away from following you before the doorbell sounded. He tsked.

“You’ll have to wait.” He teased before moving to step around the coffee table.

“No, baby, don’t! It’s probably just the mail!” You leant up on your knees in order to try and grab him. You’d hardly gripped his fingers before he was out of reach. He was expecting a gift to arrive soon, a dozen bouquets he’d ordered, and he couldn’t wait for them to arrive. But when he opened the door, the grin on his lips vanished and he did as well. All the noise and overlapping shouts was enough to drag you off the sofa and pull you to the door. And the entire situation left you where you were now.

Your fingers sunk into your eye sockets, harshly rubbing until you saw stars even with your eyelids sealed shut. You felt numb. And yet you felt so much pain. Nobody knew anything. Ron, Reggie’s twin brother, stopped by every now and then to check in on you, but it was just a brief exchange of words. You’d inquire if Reggie was okay. Ron would say yes. You’d ask if you could see him. He’d respond with ‘blood relatives only’. How long did Reggie have until he was able to get out? ‘Hard to tell’. The endless questions were eating you alive and you just knew you wouldn’t be able to go through life with all this wondering? What if Reggie didn’t get out for years.

The throbbing in your head was enough to make your eyes water again. Lifting yourself from the table, but only so you could instead carry yourself to collapse on the sofa, you shut your eyes and buried yourself into the cushion. There had never been such a huge hole in your heart. You lazily caressed the ring finger that embraced your finger, thinking back on all the memories you had of him because you really didn’t know when the next time you’d get to see him would be.

Days past by and you got better. Little by little, but it was progress. No tears anymore. Then no sniffling. And then no sadness at all. It took a few weeks, but you’d managed to get there. Forgetting Reggie wasn’t possible, you loved him far too much, but coping with the loss of him just for a while was doable. He would be back soon — even if soon wasn’t as quickly as you’d like. He would be here and when he was, you’d be waiting with open arms.

—

September 14. The following year.

The cement beneath your flip-flops did its best to burn holes in the bottom. It was hot. The suns as beaming down on the awaiting people, crowded around the gates. Today, they were letting some men free. Names were unknown because of something to do with privacy. You’d been here each time they said that a man was being released — just in case it was your man. It never had been. You’d learned to not get your hopes up. Show up with a heavy heart so you can’t be too disappointed when you leave.

The man at the front with the large megaphone, shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was short, stocky, and his hair looked like it had been greased down. He had a forming uni-brow and stubble that looked sharp enough to slice you. “Unfortunately,” His rather high-pitched voice drifted through the loud speaker. “It is with a great deal of regret that I announce the next prisoner.. today is his day for release.” Your ears twitched. Typically they just said a name and it was over, this spokesman seemed very hesitant to say whoever’s name. It took a few more minutes, everyone’s eyes dancing with curiosity, constantly flicking to the closed door over the bloke’s shoulder. “Reggie Kray.” He finally said.

The air in your lungs was sucked from your body. The heavy doors were dragged open and there he stood. His outfit was blue-gray. It had blood stains on the collar and the sides, some probably from him and some from others. He had stitches on his knuckles, healed ones that looked about ready to remove. A bruise underlined his eye and a gash marked the side of his head. He looked so abused — untaken care of. You shoved your way through the crowd, pushing your way to the man because nobody else had a right to be here. This wasn’t their husband, their brother, their father, or any other relative. This was your Reggie Kray.

He was a free man.

Noisily climbing the stairs, you realized Reggie hadn’t seen you yet. He wore a look of sadness, one that told you he probably didn’t expect you to be here. He probably thought you left him. Why would anyone — any woman hold on to her husband when they’d only just married for one, and two didn’t know how long their lover would be gone for.

Reggie didn’t see you until you were almost to his arms. You were glowing. Your arms were opened wide, teeth on show and hair blowing with the wind as you sprinted down the lengthy walkway and toward his body. The relief that washed through him at your presence was enough to make him crumble to the pavement, but he waited until you were in his arms. Your slender arms looped around his shoulders and neck, making it easy for you to clutch on to him as his knees gave out and the pair of you collapsed on the cement in front of everyone. He was careful to catch your fall, hands cushioning your back as you fell to the ground. Even if it had hurt like a bitch, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to feel it. Too much adrenaline held you.

The pair of you were on the ground, you laid beneath him, clutched on to him like a monkey, and him kneeling on top of you, grinning like an idiot. You were sure everyone present was disappointed to find out that not only had their son not been released, but Reggie was a dangerous criminal. You arched forward, mouth finding his own desperately. The fingers you had pressed against the base of his skull, tangled in his brown locks and dragged you in close. The surrounding people were sickened by the public display of affection, but it wasn’t illegal so they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Reggie, not daring to break the kiss, stood swiftly. Holding you on his hips the second he made it to a standing position, he let you kiss him as much as you pleased, returning each one with as much desperation and happiness as he moved clumsily toward the car. He set you down and laid his hands on your hips, palms enveloping you completely.

“Hello, beautiful.” He whispered lowly. His thumb caressed your hip bone slowly before he leaned in and embraced you. His arms slid around your waist and his face pushed into your neck.

“Hello, handsome.. I can’t believe I’ve got you all to myself again.” You mumbled out before playfully biting his throat. Inquiring why he’d been arrested, what had happened, why he was bruised, bloody, beaten, it would all just cause problems. Anything he wanted to share, he would. Reggie pressed you gently against the car before stepping back so he had a clear view of you. He wanted to apologize for leaving you, to prove to you that it wouldn’t happen again, but he couldn’t bare to say something that would rip that beautiful smile off of your face, so he made a mental note to talk about that stuff later and instead just enjoy the hello.

“I’m not going back.” He swore softly. “Even if I’ve got to be on the run.. I’m not leaving you again.” His words were heavenly. Empty promises, but comforting nevertheless. You moved your hands to his cheeks and delicately drew him forward. Your lips locked for just a second, a short moment that felt like an eternity. Your heart thumped happily, stomach flipping before flooding with butterflies.

“Trust me, Reggie. Im not letting you go back either.” You muttered into his mouth before drawing back. You were sure he wanted a delicious meal. A hot shower. A little bit of privacy. Some good sex. Long kisses. Cozy cuddles. And some soundless sleep on a good, warm, comfy bed. “Let’s get you home.” You whispered before taking his large hand in your own. Squeezing it reassuringly, you climbed into the passengers seat and waited for him to take the driver’s. Leaning back on the comfortable chair, you watched him for the whole drive. God, you’d missed him, and maybe one day you’d tell him how much, but right now, you just wanted a happy day. A happy day with lots and lots of affection.

Reggie looked toward you with that same lopsided grin that made you swoon. You could see in his gaze, he wasn’t going anywhere ever again, never any place that he couldn’t bring you.

The drive home wasn’t long. It was spent with Reggie taking ahold of your hand and cradling it for the entire drive and you rambling to him about the changes you’d made to the house and the hope that you liked what you’d done. He was merely smiling, no care in the world for the re-decorated house — maybe later, right now, all he cared about was holding you. Checking on you. Loving on you. And the second the car came to a stop, parked in your designated driveway, he ushered you out of your seat and into his own. You didn’t hesitate. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you lifted yourself out of your chair and into his own. Careful not to hit any part of him too roughly because you didn’t know where he had injuries, you settled down on his thighs and smiled widely the second that he enveloped you in his embrace.

He sighed breathily against your ear. “My beautiful girl.” He spoke out quietly before stroking your hair out of your eyes. “How have you been?” The question was so innocent and pure, so not what you’d expected. Part of you had just expected to be thrown into the back seat and taken as roughly as he wanted to take you, but he was being a complete teddy bear and you’d never been so grateful. Every part of you felt so sensitive. You just wanted to be loved on and it seemed like he had every intention in doing so. Your lips parted in the slightest.

“Good.. but much, much better now. You have no idea how much I missed you.” The words were quiet, almost inaudible and Reggie almost smiled at the words you said. He definitely did know. He spent all that time, trapped in a confined space with nothing but you on his mind. But he knew Ron was looking out for you, whether you were aware or not. His lips found your cheek, pressing against the smooth skin repeatedly before he let out a breathy noise of approval. It was evident, as the two of you embraced, in the increasingly hot car, that neither of you were letting the other go anytime soon, no matter who came knocking at the door. He’d flee before he left you again. This was where he wanted to be, now and forever.

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[quarantingz]

letting my guard down (part 2/2)

Let me tell you a story of how I know God is real and that He indeed works in weird, mysterious, unexpected yet timely ways. Immediately after writing the first part of my epiphany or I’d even call it a predicament, I received a call from my mum while I was on the toilet (TMI but it had to be said!). I was already finishing up (sorry!) so I washed my hands (thoroughly, after putting my phone down) and hit answer. I said my usual cheerful hellos which I was expecting her to return. Instead, I saw mum in all her glory, except she wasn’t feeling glorious, with sadness evident in her eyes. I quickly realised that things weren’t good.

She looked at me as if to say, “So you must’ve read our message about the flight…” so I asked about it. Mum closed her eyes (a mannerism she has shown in almost all of our video calls), she does this whenever she talks about something pressing or whenever God puts a word in her heart that she shares with us with zealousness. I let her speak for a good 5 minutes. I just listened. She opened up about her feelings towards this turbulent situation we’re having and how badly her and dad want to come home, to the point where they were crying out to God last night asking why this is happening. Knowing my mum and how strong her relationship with God is, she’d hardly question anything. Especially God. But I could tell how much stress she was under yet still remain graceful and calm amidst this chaos. From the moment she opened her lips and scrunched her eyebrows together, I was prepared to simply listen. And it’s when we truly listen that we’re able to empathise with someone.

Mum dropped all of the weight she was bearing overnight on me. I’m glad I could offer a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on however this wasn’t enough. I wish I could be in her presence and hug her. She also told me about how Dad handled the news that their flight was yet again cancelled. They were supposed to come back on my mum’s birthday — the 21st of March. Then it became the 2nd of April, then the 15th and now there’s a high chance that they’re going to have to stay in the Philippines until June. Two months away from now. It was all a lot. And apparently Dad, who usually never raises his voice or shows signs of anger, was yelling at the Philippine Airlines call agent over the phone. “Imagine if you were in our shoes, unable to go home to our daughters, what would you do? How would you feel?” says Mum as she recalls Dad’s words which he said to the lady or guy on the other end of the line in English. We made a lighthearted joke about how this was more a result of him wanting to sound like a foreigner and therefore important, but maybe my Dad just tends to put his mother tongue aside when he’s all fired up and that we’ve just learned something new about him. Like I said the man is almost never irritated. From Mum’s retelling of his conversation with the poor employee who was just doing their job, it sounded like he was seething.

I listened to her talk for another 20 minutes or so, picking up on every detail and the shift in the tone of her voice with each recollection of relevant events.  She told me about how our long-term family friend thoroughly enjoys her and Dad’s company, and how this quarantine period has actually been a blessing for them all. Our family friend’s marriage, we’ll give her a pseudonym too — Beatrice, has apparently been on the rocks for quite some time now. Their home hasn’t been a place where love is nurtured but rather one where members of the family tend to quarrel. Lots. Upon hearing this I felt empathy towards Beatrice and her family, too. These are people who were very prominent in my early childhood years and although I haven’t seen them in 6 years I know that as soon as I visit them we’ll just pick up where we left off. Mum carried on with her testimony, highlighting the changes, good ones, that have occurred in the life and relationships of the [insert alias here] family since reuniting with my parents. The quarrelling apparently stopped and one of their kids who’s one of my childhood friends has been cooking them delicious meals since iso. Hearing this made me smile. I wasn’t surprised to hear that my parents have become such blessings to their family as they have always been one, Mum especially, to touch people’s hearts with God’s word. I look up to them both a lot although I know I’ll never be half as good as they are.

Then, not long after her story about the Rodriguez family, I felt this urge to write my thoughts down. It would be a reflection of an event happening in real time. Weird concept but had I went on for any longer without doing so I was scared that the thoughts would leave me entirely. Almost like an itch that won’t go away until I decide to get a pen and paper and let my subconscious take over which I’ve been doing a lot these days. I wrote down the following on the first piece of paper I could find within an arm’s reach, although I was willing to write on the back of this unopened pack of pens I found in the drawer situated in the middle of our lounge. Knowing this would be crazy and I’d run out of space after four sentences, I chose to write on this printed invoice from AA for Cathy’s car service breakdown back in 2016 instead. I jotted down the following words in bulletpoints, which were all I could muster without losing my train of thought:

Storytelling

Empathy

Listening (closely)

“God is not in us but rather in this space between you and me.” A quote from Before Sunrise which just randomly popped into my head but was also relevant to the situation. I don’t fully agree with the first part but I thought it was interesting.

As Mum went on with her gripping storytelling, I proceeded to writing, in full sentences this time, capturing exactly what I wrote on paper I think would be appropriate so I’ll do just that:

(Imagine there was an arrow pointing to the beginning of this paragraph from the bulletpoint ‘Listening (closely) and that’s precisely how I scrawled it all down)

First time in ages that I was able to live and be in the present, listening to my mum’s voice, her stories told as vividly as I aim to write in my blog entries… going into details like the colour of the table Tito (Tagalog word for ‘uncle’) [insert alias here] brought into his wife’s room to put down some mugs, a jug of boiling water and snacks. They were all so eager to talk to someone from Outside. Capitalising the O for emphasis. I was listening to this and seeing it all as if it were happening right in front of me. My mum is a great storyteller. So is my dad. I miss them. But right now I’m happy. (With another arrow drawn pointing to this sentence because I ran out of space after the previous one) I pray that God brings peace to their hearts in spite of these turbulent times.

What happened after this was beyond my imagination and what I’d expected. Mum asked how I’ve been coping with everything lately or my response to all the things she’d just said. Normally this question would’ve caused me to curl up into a ball and feel seen but wanting to be unseen. Embarrassed to even open my mouth and speak up about my feelings. Gross! But instead, what followed were words spoken with confidence I’ve never channeled before when talking to my parents about what’s really going on with me. My first words were, “Funny you ask…” before scanning my eyes down the page I had just clumsily scribbled half-baked musings on, and enunciating what I wrote to them exactly how it is on paper, knowing both my sisters were in the room and listening. Before I even got to the Before Sunrise quote, my voice was already breaking and I had to pause a few times. And then the tears just streamed down my face. Uncontrollably. In that moment I realised I was naked. Vulnerable. No longer able to hide. It felt liberating so I continued. But I reached a point where I came to a full stop and just covered my face and cried. Really cried. No one said anything for a while so I continued again. After I finished, Mum spoke more words of wisdom and I was back to listening and writing down insights I’ve pulled from what she’s saying and related them back to what I’ve gathered from my brief devotion prior to our video call (it was the first time in ages that I picked up a book that actually talks about God and not just a self-help book).

Throughout the rest of our conversation, I rotated the piece of paper so it was sitting horizontal on the table and wrote the following in boxes at the top and bottom (but actually the left and right side of the page originally):

“Take nothing for granted.”

All of these were in the same box, I’ll talk about them in more detail tomorrow when we catchup Alyssa x:

“Leaving the camp -> aka the familiar (in Moses’ terms)”

“Pitching the tent of Meeting”

“Offering yourself as a living sacrifice”

“Sabbath -> Shaun (oops, I mean Gabe): “What’s the Saturday plan?”

“God’s Timing”

And then an arrow pointing from this box to a new line:

“Song: Kahit Maputi Na Ang Buhok Ko” (in English this means ‘even when my hair turns grey’ which is a song about hoping your relationship with someone wouldn’t change throughout the years and that you’ll grow old together. Is that us, pal? 🥺 Okay I’m crying now).

Lastly on this page I wrote:

“I can’t seem to open up about the deepest parts of me, my thoughts and feelings without crying like a baby.”

Flipping over the page I wrote more messy musings (hey look an alliteration!) I even numbered the paragraphs since I wrote them around the imprints of the car service invoice therefore they were initially out of order. 

Okay, remember in the first part of this “epiphany” now turned blah I said I’d explain why I find it easier to write in my journal first before going on my laptop? Well I think it’s because in Notes or Pages, the cursor or Google said it’s called an insertion point, blinks as if to say, “What’s next?” Or “What else?” This takes me back to the late nights back in the uni days where I’d stare at my half-filled page on Word dumbfounded, suffering from the worst case of writer’s block. I get this when I’d try and write or add to my blog entries here on Tumblr too. Whereas writing on pen and paper to me are more forgiving and allows my subconscious to reign more.

Have you seen Greta Gerwig’s Little Women yet? I’m going to end this (and boy does this need to end, I’m sorry for what I’m about to get you to sit through) with a few references to that movie so I hope you have! This thing we started which allowed me to write again made me feel a lot like Saoirse as Jo in this scene where she too gets back into writing. She’s sitting on the floor of her room, hunched over tens and hundreds of pieces of paper riddled with her neat penmanship in ink, fervently writing her next novel. The scene was depicted as a montage, of Jo switching between her left and right hand, the sides of which are stained with black ink and she’s shaking her dominant hand to relieve the pain caused by hours of unbridled writing. This is how I felt like today. Alive. Fiery. Like the Aries I am.

To close, I want to say that it’s always been easier for me to put things in writing instead of vocalising them. This is more of my sister’s forte. This again reminds me of a scene in Little Women where Jo makes her speech about women having different dreams and ambitions but not one of them is more important than the other. We’re all very unique yet similar in that we are women with voices and gifts which we can choose to use in the way we like.

It feels like I’ve been on a rollercoaster this year so far, reaching highs but also plummeting down to my lowest of lows periodically. But I know I’m not alone. So if you’re feeling the same way, reader, I urge you to open up to the person you feel most comfortable with and although easier said than done, let your guard down. Be vulnerable as I believe it is in these times where we show someone else our cracks that light can shine through them and into the person we choose to strip in front of.

- p, with love

[whiskeyworen]

Resolutions

"Cyrus? Are you up here?" Moryggan called, climbing the metal steps to the observation dome. She proceeded slowly, not wanting to intrude on anything if he wanted privacy.

It had been a few weeks since the end of Kralkatorrik. The Pact had celebrated their victory, buried their dead, and had begun truly aiding the still-unbalanced Kingdom of Elona. It would probably be many years before a true and fair balance would be ironed out between the various factions there, so it was still a hotbed for conflict. Given their lack of association to the Pact, Cyrus had pulled their ship, Forsaken Aspect, away from the fleet. There was nothing the Pact could do to stop them, other than protest; it's not like they could target the ship with their strictly manual cannons. Not with the Inquest cloaking device active on it. That, and the sheer destructive power the Aspect could return would have sunk damned near any of the first and second generation ships the Pact fielded. That's what happens when the ship you're facing contains illegal, auto-targetting, horrendously powerful weapons and more armor than three ships-of-the-line combined.

As the ship returned to the vicinity of Lion's Arch, each of the team had broken away to different parts of the ship, intent on their own things. Tenna had returned to her labs, buried in the belly of the ship, to study Forged gear, decode even more of Scarlet's files, and make her own advances in biology and technology unhindered by the Council.

Verula had gone down to the gun-decks to monitor the maintenance and upgrading of the ship's various weapons by the semi-autonomous servitors that were a crucial part of a ship the size of the Aspect. Though the servitors were intelligent enough and reliable enough in a pinch, they didn't innovate, which required someone with a true mind and a keenness for machinery to guide them. Both of which the matronly Charr was in spades.

No one knew what became of Vaela Toma, but no one particularly cared; her popping in-and-out of Mist rifts had become so commonplace that it was just assumed that if she disappeared somewhere, she'd come back some day.

So, out of the ship's small living crew, only Moryggan and Cyrus were left out of sorts. Neither one had much to do, but Moryggan had noticed how unsettled Cyrus was after Aurene had self-evolved/grown. Something about that fleeting touch they'd all felt had left him staring off into space.

To a degree, it worried her. As much as she tried to keep a professional distance from him, Moryggan was sylvari, and so was far more attuned to people's feelings than she cared to admit. When he'd disappeared after a meal, she'd gotten such a bad feeling that she simply had to find him and figure out why.

Which had led her here, to the stairs to the observation dome near the top of the ship. It had originally been designed as a kind of lookout post for when sensors were disabled, or as a primary star-finder for direction, but had been repurposed quickly as a kind of private getaway everyone used for some peace and quiet. This far up the ship's superstructure, you couldn't even feel the low hum of its power systems, the throb of the engines, or the hiss of the ventilators. It was... a quiet place.

There was no answer from the platform, so Moryggan stepped over to a monitor on the wall, clicking a button on it. "Aspect, are you sure he's up there?"

The Forsaken Aspect was a unique ship. She had a mind of her own, initially designed by the mad Scarlet, but refined and perfected by Tenna's technical genius and Verula's skill. She had a kind of consciousness of its own, and thankfully, was quite fond of its crew. So it was no surprise when Aspect replied to her question. "Yes, Miss Moryggan. Cyrus entered the dome approximately twenty-five minutes ago."

The golem eye embedded in the console rotated slightly to face her. "He has not left it. Is there anything wrong?"

Moryggan bit her lip. She didn't want to worry Aspect; the ship thought of Cyrus as something between a big brother and a father. Aspect was essentially a very large, very powerful, very innocent child. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

"Alright. Please let me know if you require anything further. I will send a watchwork servitor if you need anything." The golem eye retracted till it was flush with the wall, before going dark as Aspect turned her attentions elsewhere.

The sylvari mesmer turned away from the console and slowly ascended the stairway into the dome. As her head cleared floor-level, she could see him, sitting on the edge of the platform. The way the dome had been built was a kind of flying bridge, with a large platform hanging out in the space under the windows. Cyrus was sitting on the edge, his legs hanging off into the void, not even turning to look at her.

"Cyrus? What's up?" She asked cautiously, stepping closer to him. She didn't step up beside him; he hadn't even acknowledged her yet. But... suddenly she realized he wasn't wearing his usual gear, his armor and all his technical toys. His heavy leather coat, with its coolant systems and things she barely understood was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he seemed to be dressed in actual clothes. Street clothes. He never dressed that way. There might have been three or four times in the last few years that she'd ever seen him in anything other than his combat gear. Something about his determination to be prepared for anything, and his paranoia kept him from relaxing much at all, no matter how he'd acted in public. At least, that was the impression she'd gotten from him. On some level, it'd been reassuring to know there was someone always prepared, who was as suspicious as she was. She could trust that.

The summer hoodie he had on, simple pants and whatnot...it didn't seem like him at all. The only piece of tech he had on was the glider backpack; these days NO one who had one went anywhere without one. And the Dynamics college had come up with an absolutely perfect design; small and unobtrusive.

"....Cyrus?" She asked quietly. "Hmm?... Oh, hey Mory." Cyrus finally shook himself free of his reverie, glancing over his shoulder for a second. "Not much. Just... been thinking." "What about?" The sylvari stepped up behind him, before kneeling down. He'd never called her 'Mory' before, except when heavily drunk. And certainly not quite so pleasantly. "Is everything okay?" "Yeah. Everything is okay." He nodded. He lifted a hand, flexing his fingers slightly. There was still a tingle there he couldn't shake. From that psychic touch. When Aurene 'spoke' to him. "I'm... trying to figure out something. I don't know..." "Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, scooting closer. She no longer could feel the sense of doom he'd been giving off at dinner, but there was something else. A sadness. "No." He replied. Then he paused, thinking. "At least, I don't know." "You don't know?"He turned slightly to look over his shoulder at her. With his eye, surrounded by the unnatural marking he'd been 'gifted', he carefully watched her face, her expression, taking it in. Taking in the worry in her eyes. The glow of the scar on her own face; it always struck him as coincidental that they both had facial scarring after a fashion, on the same side. Made things a bit more familial, in a sense. "....When was the last time you talked to your Mother, Mory?" He asked softly. At the mention of the Pale Tree, he saw her pupils tighten in anxiety, and her minty glow pulse faster as her heart suddenly accelerated. She took a breath, trying to calm herself, though her scar's bright glow belied the controlled expression on her face. "Not since Lion's Arch fell. I couldn't face her after... after that thing tried to take control of me." She didn't elaborate beyond that. There was pain, and shame hidden under the flat manner of her speech. It was too carefully said, too well enunciated to be entirely truthful. Cyrus knew neither of them believed she could say something like that so simply and not feel anything. He let the silence hang for a moment, before sighing. "I need to... I need to talk to her. But I don't know if I can do it. Or if I'd even be permitted to talk to her." "The Mother does meet with travellers, you know." Moryggan pointed out. "She's not exactly hard to meet." "But she might refuse to speak to me, Mory." His mouth twisted. "I was an Aetherblade, remember. I helped Ceara.... Scarlet. Both of them. She might not forgive me for being responsible for what happened to Ceara. Or what Scarlet did." Moryggan smiled softly, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Cyrus... Do you know the teachings of Ventari? The ones most of my kind try to live by?" "Kind of. I tend to forget some of them though." He shrugged, and they both chuckled. "The second teaching is 'Do not fear difficulty. Hard ground makes stronger roots'. And the Fourth is 'All things have a right to grow. The blossom is brother to the weed'." She smiled weakly. "Between the two, it means that self-determination is key, no matter the outcome, and that we get stronger through difficulty, because we learn. We can forgive." She sat down on the rim beside him, patting him on the forearm. "The Pale Tree will always grieve when one of her children dies, or turns to evil. But she is also capable of the greatest forgiveness. At least, that's what I believe." "Then why haven't you gone home and talked with her?" He asked heavily, his eyes shadowed with sadness. "She would probably forgive you, right?" Moryggan's smile faded slightly, and she looked out of the dome windows, considering. "...Because even though she would forgive me, welcome me back with open arms and branches... On some level, I can't forgive myself." She sighed. "I thought I was a strong person. Physically. Mentally. Perfectly strong and controlled, and damned proud of it. And then..." She grimaced, reaching up to rub her scar. "Then that thing... Mordremoth... just walked into my mind and nearly crushed me. If it wasn't for you, I'd..." Cyrus watched her, seeing that pain again. He reached out to pat the hand she had on his arm. "Then, I think we need to go home, Mory. At least, to your home. I need to talk to your Mother, and... I think you need to have a chat with her yourself." Moryggan nodded slowly, exhaling heavily. "Yeah. It's time to go home. I-I need to tell her what's happened. To me." "Yeah. And I need to tell her things. Important things." Cyrus added. "If I'm lucky, she won't have me thrown in the jail." He pulled both of them to their feet and gestured for the stairs. "Let's go. We'll be in L.A. in a few hours." As they descended the stairs together, the monitor on the wall activated, the eye blinking on. Aspect called out to them. "Miss Moryggan? Cyrus? Do you need anything?" "No, Aspect, thank you. But if you could chart for the usual docks in Lion's Arch? We'll be spending a few days on ground travel from there. Please let the others know as well, when they have the time." "Acknowledged, Cyrus. Making course change for the Lighthouse dock as per your order. Maintain Illusion matrix?" "Yep. Make us look like a merchant airship, and adjust trim and docking ports to compensate. Make sure there's plenty of room around us so no one collides with the illusion." "Aye aye, sir." Aspect replied cheerifully, before signing off. **** It did not take long. Once they were docked in Lion's Arch, the two of them paid transit through the Asura gate to the Grove, and were there by nightfall. They rented a room-pod in the lower levels of the Grove, where the night air was filled with luminescent pollen and the whisper of soft leaves. It was actually quite beautiful, peaceful even. While Moryggan visited old companions for the day, Cyrus had wandered the halls and chambers, chatting with curious Saplings and laughing at their innocence. It was refreshing to say the least. When they got back together in the evening, Moryggan had some surprising news. "I talked to some of the Wardens, and they got word to their leaders; we've...we've got an appointment to see the Pale Tree tonight." She looked quite embarassed, face suffused with glow. In a small voice, she added. "Mother apparently cleared her other meetings just for us." That filled Cyrus's veins with a sudden dose of icewater. There's no way they should have been granted a meeting that fast, or with that kind of response. It wasn't... normal. How many ambassadors did she just piss off, to meet with us? He asked himself, trying to hide the shock on his face. "Well... Uh... I guess we should go meet her as soon as we can then?" He replied, unsure. ****

They stood before the final seed elevator before the Tree's Omphalos chamber, and every instinct in his body told Cyrus to flee. He glanced upward to the Tree's immense branches, all the various levels and platforms. The soft, pink and purple-hued petals on the long, smooth vine that swirled down from the core in the farthest reaches. It shifted softly in the night breeze, the petals seeming to gesture upward, though that had to be an illusion.

She's three miles tall, twenty miles across if you include the roots, houses an entire city in her boughs...and she wants to see us. Cyrus mulled over in his mind with incredulity. Beings like the Pale Tree weren't supposed to care for the meanderings of mere mortals, at least that's what he'd always thought. "I...don't know if this was such a good idea, Mory."

"Last minute misgivings?" She chided him, giving him a shakey smile. "If me being here can get you to go up there, maybe you being here can get me to go up there. What do you think?"

"....Deal." He nodded, and sat uneasily in one chamber of the seed pod. Moryggan took the other half, the leaf/door raised, and a gust of magic gently blew the seed up through the many supporting platforms of the tree to the Omphalos chamber.

Safely in place, the door flipped open again, and the two travellers carefully stepped out onto the lush, soft, green grass platform suspended near the top of the tree. Looking around, Cyrus realized he could see no Wardens around; from what he'd heard from Moryggan and other sylvari, the Pale Tree's avatar was attended by at least a squad at all times. Did she dismiss them? He couldn't see them with his cursed Discernment eye; they weren't hidden under Mesmer magic anywhere nearby.

"Come. Please come here." A soft voice called. It sounded like it was right beside them, but both of them knew it was the Tree herself projecting her voice to guide them to her Avatar. "I am always happy to have visitors, and, I think, the two of you are long overdue?"

There was a playfulness to her tone that made Cyrus unconsciously smile. An immensely powerful, massive entity, and she was making jokes. There was something ... likeable about that. It clearly carried on in her children, since he'd spent the afternoon having good laughs with Saplings and Menders.

"Hello, Pale Tree." Cyrus knelt respectfully. "I'm afraid I don't know if there's a title I should refer to you by, like I would with Queen Jennah or the Imperator."

"...Mother." Moryggan knelt as well, closing her eyes. "I am... home." The Pale Tree's glowing avatar stepped forward gracefully, her bare feet not leaving impressions in the grass as it gently parted of its own accord around her descending step. She laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Greetings to you both, visitor, and child. Cyrus Sigismund, and Moryggan Deraleth. I have been expecting you for some time."

With but a touch, she guided them back to their feet. "I had hoped, children, that you would have talked to me far sooner than now." She tilted her head, the movement causing a release of glowing pollen from the flower that made up her 'hair'. "I am curious as to why it took so very long?"

They looked between each other, unsure, before Cyrus rubbed his gloved hands together. "...I was unsure if I would be welcomed, Pale Tree. I don't know if you know, but, I was a...friend... of Ceara's."

The Tree's ersatz eyes widened in surprise, but she merely nodded.

"...I was also a friend of Scarlet's." He added more leadenly. It was hard to meet her eyes, but he forced himself to. "I was with her as she started to descend to madness. I...was forced out and away from her when she became too unstable. But I had one final chat with her before the destruction of her machine in Lion's Arch."

The glow suffusing the Omphalos seemed to fade a little, dimming for a mere moment before rising back to its usual glow. The Pale Tree looked at him, pain and sorrow in her eyes, but also compassion. So much compassion that it was so very hard to look her in the face. She reached out to touch his cheek, gently, so he wouldn't look away in shame. "...What of my daughter then, Cyrus? I grieve for her daily, but I take solace in that she has been freed of her madness. If you have any news for me that the others have not brought me..."

Cyrus reached up and held the hand against his face. He knew the Avatar wasn't truly a physical thing, but however she managed it, her hand felt so real. It was like the softest leaf he'd ever felt, but one with a pulse. It was warm, and welcoming. It really felt like a Mother's touch, and it broke his heart. In spite of his control, he felt a tear slip from his eye. "...She was sorry. She had had the best intentions, but... the damage done to her had twisted those intentions. What she did... was not...what she'd meant to do in the first place."

He wiped the tear away. "She had wanted to protect you. Protect all of you, and all of us. But... what he did, even with his sleeping mind..." Cyrus's face collapsed into sorrow. "She wasn't Mordrem. But he'd devastated her mind just by touching it. She'd resolved to kill him at all costs but along the way, she forgot what her goal had been. The damage he'd done had slowly erased her goals. The denials and declines she'd gotten from the other nations ate at her mind. She..."

"I know." The Mother cut him off gently. She held his head in both hands, and lowered her forehead to touch his. "Even though she had cut her ties with me, defied my pleas for caution and stepped beyond the mental shield I put up to keep my children safe... I realize she was trying to fight back." She stroked his hair as more tears flowed from him. "At no point did she ever turn her weapons against the Grove."

"The machine. The Breachmaker." Cyrus grated out. "It was meant to kill the Beast. Not feed it. She knew at the end that she had screwed up badly. She was so terribly, terribly sorry about that, but unable to do anything about it. Not at that point. Not with the Pact at her neck, and not with her madness tearing at her. She could have escaped, but she chose not to. She knew...there had to be some justice. Some peace."

"Cyrus. Thank you." The Pale Tree stepped back, smiling sadly, and gave his cheek one last touch. "I can sense how much you grieve for her. For Ceara and Scarlet both. I can see how much her pain hurt you. And how much of a friend you were to her, no matter what she did. Thank you for that."

"As you say." Cyrus rasped, throat tight with emotion. He wobbled slightly, unstable with such a powerful release of emotion; the pain, the memories, and the sad, wonderful, freeing feeling of confession. He glanced over at Moryggan, and was shocked to see tears streaming down her face as well. "Moryggan..."

"Daughter." The Pale Tree turned her attention to the rose-skinned sylvari. "You share his pain so openly. I remember you as a Sapling, always hiding your emotions, or at least trying to." She smiled. "There were times you wore your heart on your sleeve. In the past, you would never admit to feeling compassion for others, though I always know you did."

She tapped the side of her head, winking playfully. "The Dream tells much, especially of our inner selves. But it seems you have your own story to tell me."

Moryggan blinked, tears still staining her cheeks, before bowing her head in shame. "I'm sorry, Mother. I... I am ashamed. I was weak. If it weren't for Cyrus, and by extension, Scarlet Briar, I'd have been..."

She paused, searching. She was almost shaking, now that she was in front of her mother. The words just wouldn't come.

Then she felt someone touch her arm. Cyrus reached out and was giving her arm a gentle stroke. I was there for him.... He said he'd be there for me. She reminded herself, drawing strength from it.

"Mother... If it wasn't for Cyrus, and the things he'd gotten from Scarlet, I'd have ended up one of the Crazed. One of the Mordrem, probably. " She raised her head, staring with haunted eyes at her mother. "The Dragon... he didn't just reach into my mind. H-he crushed it underfoot. Tried to crush me. But for Cyrus, I-I...." In one fluid movement, the Pale Tree drew upon her, wrapping her arms around her daughter and burying her in the glowing petals of her body. She crooned to her lost daughter, whispering loving words and encouragement, while Moryggan broke down into grateful sobs. She clung to the Pale Tree's avatar tightly, releasing all that pent up pain, misgiving, and shame.

Cyrus stood there, watching silently but wanting to reach out to his teammate. The Pale Tree cuddled her child gently, as a mother should. She glanced at him, making eye contact. The look in her eye said it all, but she verbalized it anyway. "Thank you once again, Cyrus. You bring me sad but welcome news of my long lost daughter, but you also saved one of my daughters from the clutches of the Beast. I have many children, but each one of them is dear to me, and you have returned one to me I had thought I would not see again." She stroked Moryggan's frond hair gently, before laying a soft kiss on her scar. "Welcome home, Moryggan. Know this; you will always be welcome here in the Grove, in the Dream. We are always here for you... I am here for you, if you wish it."

"Thank you.... Mother." Moryggan said shakily, reluctantly drawing back from the Tree's embrace. "I am no longer afraid to come back... no longer ashamed..."

The Tree nodded and turned to Cyrus, raising an eyebrow. "And you, Cyrus?"

He smiled a little and shrugged. "I honestly thought I was going to end up in your jail for being associated with Scarlet. So...walking out of here and still being allowed to visit the Grove is more than I might hope for."

That made the Tree laugh, a pleasant, melodious sound. "Cyrus, you aren't going to end up in my jail. There is no crime you have committed here. If anything, you are to receive a boon if I can come up with one, for what you have done."

He shook his head. "I don't need medals or titles. If you permit us to trade and offer materials and other things, that would be more than enough." Cyrus crossed his arms. "That is, if you'd be willing."

"Tell you what." The Tree smirked a bit, gliding back to a patch of glowing grass and settling down on it. She reached out and patted the ground, a trail of luminescence sliding from her hand to light up two patches in front of her that seemed just the right size for the two of her visitors. "You and your associates can do business here so long as you don't deal in illegal or illicit goods, and you will be titled an honored guest of the Grove and of Myself... if you two will sit here and tell me your adventures."

She smiled, as they came and sat down on the grass, which wove itself into soft cushions at her thought. "I want to hear about everything you've done, why you did it, and everything else. Your friends... your family."

Cyrus chuckled a bit, and glanced over at Moryggan, who covered her mouth to hide her own chuckle. "Well... my story is going to take a long time, my Lady."

"That is quite alright!" The Tree replied primly, gesturing upward with one hand. From some other level, a vine swirled up, items balanced in its curls. With a flourish, it laid out an imported Krytan tea set, complete with hot tea and a service tray of assorted pastries. "I shall provide the confections if you provide the entertainment. And I have plenty of time."

They all had a good laugh at that, and Cyrus poured them all a cup of tea as he tried to explain his home... ---- Author note: I didn’t actually write this for the Writer’s Event for @tyrias-library but it might just fall under a bunch of the prompt guidelines anyway. If it’s not actually entered in it, that’s cool with me because it wasn’t planned that way. LoL. That said, enjoy. I’m still debating how close these two actually are. Or will become. It’s far too easy to write ships, but at the same time, it seems so appropriate. I’m also debating something with the Forsaken Aspect... time will tell of course. ;)

[zombiesbecrazy]

Home is Where the Ring Is

Summary:  The Green Lanterns of 2813 have two jobs that they take very seriously - serve their sector admirably and protect their most treasured and endangered citizens with honor and valor.

Note:  Once upon a time I read a fic (that I can't remember the title of) about how the Green Lantern Corps was very protective of Kryptonians because they were considered an endangered species. This weird cracky fluff spun out of that and me wondering who would be responsible for looking after them if that were the case.

AO3 Link

It was silly, feeling homesick like some sort of child.

In the grand scheme of the universe Farthlé was not that far from home, not really, especially when you were able to travel quickly through space whenever you wanted with the help of a glowing green ring. Fylip was only one sector over, but he was three months into his six month rotation and all he really wanted right now was his mom’s homemade lufdenheim for dinner. He didn’t even like her cooking when he was home, because it was positively dreadful and left a heavy feeling like rocks in his stomach, but he missed it none the less.

Searching through his kitchen he tried to figure out if he had the right ingredients for chicken tetrazzini, one of his Earth favourites, or if he’d have to make a trip to the store to satisfy that particular craving. He had really grown to like the food here. There wasn’t pasta back home. Or cheese.  So many different types of cheese. On most days, the cheese alone was worth the station.

It was lonely sometimes. Being an alien on a strange world. Being without his friends and family. Being a Lantern in the wrong sector. Sure, 2814’s Lanterns always invited him when they got together on Earth, it wasn’t the same as hanging out with Somar-Le back in 2813.

His sworn duty was worth it, but he was having a hard time remembering that today.

The destruction of Krypton was a sad mark in history for the Green Lanterns of 2813. The defenders at the time had arrived too late to help and were only able to watch the devastation from a distance as it had been decimated. An entire planet gone; a catastrophic extinction right before their eyes. It wasn’t the first time that it had happened, nor would it be the last, but the sector’s Lanterns mourned it as if it were their own world. They had lost one of their charges.

Until one day they discovered that the Kryptonians were not extinct, only endangered and there was one on Earth. And then another. And then it was a full family pod of there, as well as the bottled city of Kandor. They were small, yes, but they were still Kryptonians contained safely in the glass walls.

The species they had thought were lost had survived and 2813 would not fail them again. Never again. They had a new mission to uphold.

Since that day, one of the Lanterns from 2813 always stood guard over the Kryptonians of Earth, ensuring that they were safe and protected from harm. The Guardians had tried to tell them that it wasn’t necessary, that this mission was above and beyond their call of duty, as had the Green Lanterns of 2814, who all called Earth home and said that they include the Kryptonians in their protection, but the 2813 Lanterns declined. Arrangements had to be made because of this, and once it was realised that the 2813’s mission was permanent. With the Guardians, they decided that if a solo Kryptonian appeared another sector, it was the duty of the Lanterns of that sector to protect them. The Earth pod was the largest settlement in the universe and if it was 2813’s sworn oath to look after them, it was their responsibility even though they were residing in 2814’s jurisdiction. For the most part, Farthlé and Somar-Le stayed out of 2814’s business unless one of Earth’s Lantern’s asked them to assist, and likewise they left the Kryptonians well being to them, unless one left the pod to go off planet. General rule was then that Farthlé stayed with the pod and the travelling family member was then the responsibility of the sector they were in. Kal El was pretty good at texting before going off world so they were alerted to the situation. He was fortunate to be close enough to his sector that he could assist if needed, and in that case he alerted Hal or John that he needed to be away and they cared for his Kryptonians.

There were a lot of rules and contingencies in place for a very small collection of people, but it was worth it and it usually worked out well for everyone.

It was strange to be looking after essentially four people instead of an entire sector of space, crisscrossing between insanely easier and infinitely more complicated all at the same time.

Farthlé and Somar-Le had decided that they would split the duties of who would spend their time on Earth with their most precious charges, rotating every six months, while living in an apartment they shared in Metropolis. It was only fair to split both the burden and the honour of this revered task. It was a sacred and noble act and one that he was proud to follow the tradition of, even if the Kryptonians poked fun at them for it.  They kept insisting that they didn’t need a special guard detail, but it wasn’t really up to them to make that call. The rings of 2813 taught them the importance of the as soon as it attached to their fingers for the first time. It was part of their history almost as much as it was the Kryptonians.

Sector 2813 will always take care of its own.

Over the years, Farthlé had taken to treating the pod in the same way as most Earth family units seemed to when they did not live together, keeping most of his tabs on them with their telecommunication devices. Noting that he didn’t have any chicken for the meal he had hoped to make, he closed the fridge and decided to make his standard rounds, pulling out his phone and texting the same group he did every night.

Farthlé: Daily check in. Everyone still alive?

Dots appeared on the screen as he waited for a response. Probably Kara. She was always the first. He wasn’t overly concerned today. It had been a slow news day in general on the planet so he had no reason to think that anything had happened to any of his charges. He had done a fly over in the morning to peek in on all of them and they were all fine, but he still needed the reassurance that he hadn’t missed anything as they lived their regular lives. He found it fascinating, the way they had seamlessly assimilated. Despite the responsibility of the duty, for the most part he stayed uninvolved. The last time he had to step in was because of Zod and ended with banishing him to the Phantom Zone. At least he knew where that Kryptonian was tonight.

Kara Zor-El: I’m alright. I broke a heel.

Farthlé sucked in a breath and transformed into his uniformed appearance, green glow filling the room. How had Kara injured herself in such a fashion? Kryptonite, surely, but he needed more… wait. She had indicated that she was fine. He tried to calm himself, resisting the urge to open the window and fly towards her location without more information.

Farthlé : How?

Kara Zor-El: It got stuck in a grate when I was running to catch the subway.

Farthlé gritted his teeth and powered down before taking a few deep and steadying breaths. She was going to be the death of him some day, he just knew it.

Farthlé: You mean you broke the heel of your shoe.

Kara Zor-El: Oh, yeah. Sorry. Stop panicking. I can hear your heartbeat from here. Though if you want to buy me some new ones, that would be sweet.

Farthlé : The Corps are not buying you new shoes.

Kara Zor-El: But I need them. I’m a poor orphan without shoes. Help me, Green Lantern.

Farthlé : No.

He knew that would be the end of the conversation with Kara. She wasn’t one for chit chat with him over text but she did like to meet up in person from time to time to chat about their home sector. Farthé had never been to Krypton, but she had been to Fylip as a child as well as some of the other planets and he was really the only person she could talk to about it. It was nice, the connection that the two of them shared from home. She often made him feel less homesick when he was feeling down, but he didn’t like to intrude. He was mainly an observer and didn’t want to disrupt the life that she had built for herself on Earth.

Jon Kent: I’m good, but my dad isn’t home yet. How are you today? I miss you!

Farthlé smiled at young Jonathan’s words. He had recently got a phone of his own, and as far as Farthlé knew, the only numbers stored in it were for his family, Robin from Gotham and himself. Jonathan had called him his fairy godfather last time he had seen him. It must rather seem that way to a child.

Farthlé: I’m very well. Thank you for asking.

Jon Kent: Can you do my math homework?

Farthlé: You must learn math, Jonathan. It is important on all planets.

Jon Kent: But there's just so much…

Farthlé: Even if I were able to help you in that way, I could only do half because you are only half Kryptonian.

Jon Kent: Does that mean that if I were dying, you would only half save me?

Farthlé: Well, no. I am still not doing your homework.

Jon Kent: Fine, but I’m telling my teacher that a Fylipian Lantern ate my homework.

Farthlé: You are welcome to try to use that as an excuse however I don’t believe it will work.

There were a few minutes of silence from his phone, hopefully meaning that Jonathan had returned to his studies. There were still two more to hear in from. The general rule of thumb was that if he didn’t hear back from them within thirty minutes that he was to start to investigate.

A new bubble popped up.

Kon El: The other person you are only going to half save is also alive and well and thriving. Krypto and I are chilling.

Farthlé: Very good. Give Krypto a pet for me. He is a good dog.

Kon El: Will do. Question – do you save me to a level less than or equal to Jon? As a clone-hybrid am I only like… 25% saveable?

Farthlé sighed. Were all Kryptonians this insufferable? He shook his head when he realised that about 90% of all Kryptonians alive in the universe were in this group chat, so it was rather easy to infer that, yes, all Kryptonians were like this.

Farthlé: I will save anyone with Kryptonian DNA with equal measure, regardless of the percentage.

Kon El: My hero! My future 12.5% Kryptonian children are so lucky!

Another twenty minutes passed and Farthlé started to wonder if he was going to have to contact one of 2814’s Lanterns. He knew that Kal El was off world on a Justice League mission, but he had been due to arrive back earlier in the day. He had not heard of any delay in their return but it was known to happen. If something had gone wrong, he would have been contacted. He was tapping out a message to Hal Jordan that he wasn’t entirely sure if he was going to send or not, because Hal would just accuse him of being a mother hen when a notification came through.

Kal El: Jon, ask Mom for help with the math. Conner, you are just as Kryptonian as any of the rest of us. Kara, you are an adult with a job, buy your own darn shoes. Farthlé, I arrived safe and sound on the Watchtower and am heading home soon. I’m fine. Kyle took very good care of me. Sorry that I forgot to check in earlier. My phone was dead.

Tension released from Farthlé’s body as he read the words. He knew that it was hypocritical, but he didn’t like it when one of his charges left the planet. There was a sense of safety when they were on home. Everywhere else for them just felt so… alien. He laughed at his own foolishness as he typed back.

Farthlé: You are not a house plant that I asked Kyle Rayner to water, Kal El.

Kal El: Then why do you never ask Guy to follow me when I go off planet?

Farthlé: No comment. Thank you for letting me know you are home once again.

Seconds later, Farthlé’s phone was ringing. It was not an unexpected call.

“Do you have dinner plans tonight? We’re having lasagna if you want to join us. I’m going to call Conner and Kara too. Big family meal sound good?” Kal El sounded good. Happy. The mission must have gone well.

It wasn’t uncommon for Kal El to invite him to dinner and it was a usual occurrence when he returned from off world missions. It was like he knew that Farthlé was practically itching to see him in the flesh and ensure that their longest charge was all in one piece, just has he had been when he left Earth days before. He was trying to make his job easier. While his insistent Lantern guardians amused him, Kal El always did his best to include them into his life and tried to make them feel welcome on Earth. He knew what it was like to feel like a stranger in a crowd. Farthlé was lucky, being able to blend in with the humans and Kryptonians and that it was much harder for Somar-Le to venture out in public without a concealment charm disguising his avian like visage, but he was still an outsider no matter how much time he spent on Earth.

The dinner invitation sounded like it always did. Perfect. It wasn’t home or his mom’s food, but it was the next best thing when it felt like he was a galaxy, and not just a sector, away.

“I would love to. Thank you for the invitation.”

After all, it was easier to keep an eye on all the Kryptonians if they were there together. Dinner together made strategic sense.

The pasta and cheese combination was just an added bonus.

[nanoka12]

Kaori Sakamoto “I want to see the view from the podium”; Mai Mihara “Even so, I will not lose heart”

Their thoughts upon the Olympics-- Together they aimed for the grand stage of the Olympics, as close friends, and also rivals who devoted all their youth to figure skating. One of them grasped her dream, while the other did not fulfill her dream. Both of them overwhelmingly full of words of gratitude towards the other. And then once again, they will start their journey towards their respective dreams. 

(Translator’s note: for context, this article was published in early February 2018, just before the PyeongChang Olympics)

They are always smiling when they are together. Meeting when they were in elementary school, for 10 years they have encouraged each other along they way and worked hard together in training until now. 

This season, both of them envisioned the same target, and had moved forward with the vow of standing on the grand stage together.

“My only full day of rest was on 1 January. The solid sense of becoming Japan’s representative welled up greatly within me, and I began to think “Let’s do it”. ”

Two weeks after the Japanese National Championships, on 6 January, Kaori Sakamoto said this with a laugh.

The Japanese National Championships last December had also served as the selection for the representatives to the PyeongChang Olympics. Sakamoto, with a perfect performance in the SP had headed into the FS in 1st place. In the FS, amidst the further pressure of being the last to skate, she skated cleanly except for an underrotated jump and finished in 2nd place overall. Splendidly, she had won one of the spots to the PyeongChang Olympics.

“I thought there was no greater pressure than to be the last to skate. While thinking that I’ll definitely be nervous, and in reality, in the interval until the FS, unknowingly I had become very nervous, to the extent that I thought I’ll surely fail if I continue like this.  However, when the time came for my coaches to send me off at the rink, the moment that Nakano-sensei said to me “Kao can definitely do it. You have practiced for it, haven’t you?”, I thought to myself “Ah, indeed, because I’ve worked hard in practice it will be ok if I perform it just like in practice”, and the excess energy just fell away.”

Last season she had won bronze medals at both JGPF and Junior World Championships. For this season in which her Senior debut overlapped with the Olympic year, Sakamoto set her eyes on “Going to the Olympics” as her goal.

“The Youth Olympics (in 2016) was the first time I saw uniforms, bags, and the ice rink with the Olympics symbol on them, and it brought forth thoughts of “Ah, this is the atmosphere of the Olympics. I want to compete at the real Olympics”.”

Within herself, the sense of anxiety was tremendous. What bewildered her the most was the atmosphere of Senior competition.

“It’s completely different from Juniors. For example, at last season’s Junior World Championships, the two Men’s skaters and the three of us Ladies’ skaters, as well as the representatives in Ice Dance and Pairs, all of us would gather together and go for meals, and it was all very friendly. However, in Seniors everyone does things on their own. When I go to the rink, the atmosphere felt prickly and it was difficult to get used to it. I could not focus at all, was unable to move as I intended and was swept away by other skaters and so on...”

As Sakamoto was not exempted from having to qualify for the National Championships, she had no other option than to start competing at regional competitions within Japan. As she was also competing at international events, she competed at more events than anyone else this season. Looking back at it later, this had the beneficial effect of making her get used to competitions.

“I became able to think that “I will also perform it” and made my way here. However, although I pretty much got accustomed to it...”, she said with a wry smile. 

For Sakamoto who felt a sense of loneliness during competitions, she had a friend who became a support. This was Mai Mihara. Being together at their daily training became strength for her. As the competitions they were assigned to were different, they were separated when either traveled to compete. During those times, they exchanged messages via SNS, sometimes they were congratulations, and sometimes they were words of encouragement.

 “I think I am here because Mai-chan is here.”

The first meeting of the two of them who have formed such strong bonds traces back to 10 years ago. When Sakamoto, who had started skating at age 4 was 7 years old, Mihara who was one year older joined the same club she was in.

“A child with a strong spirit has come here.” In her words, this was her first impression (of Mihara).

“She had extremely strong feelings of hating to lose, ever since she was small Mai-chan was a child with the sentiment of absolutely wanting to be number one. As for myself, at that time I really did not have any such feelings of “I absolutely must win”, and was just skating without any purpose. (laughs)”

Mihara’s presence induced a change in Sakamoto’s attitude.

“Although she entered the club later, she became skillful earlier than me. One of the barriers in figure skating is whether one can master the 2A or not. Although I took two and a half years, Mai-chan got her 2A after just slightly more than a year. At that time her speed of improvement was totally different from mine, and as she was also the one who got her five triples first, since then I’ve been chasing after her.”

She describes Mihara who made her take skating seriously in these words,

“We are always training together, she is a rival who is always close by. There isn’t a more beneficial environment than this. Although she is a rival, at the same time she is a friend. I really think every day that it is great that Mai-chan is here.”

She had changed her hairstyle after the Japanese National Championships. 

“I think it was on 29 December, around that time I had it cut. I got my fringe cut by about 20cm. As there’s no parting, it felt fresh. Perhaps I cut it as a fresh start.”

Mihara who said these words smiled wryly at Sakamoto’s description of her as “ A child with a strong spirit”. 

“I wasn’t that strong in spirit. Although I don’t know why she has that image of me. (laughs)”

Her first impression of Sakamoto was “Someone who rotated with ease, a skillful child.” She also wanted to become similarly skillful.

Last season, Mihara as a first year Senior achieved her debut and first victory at the Four Continents Championship. At the World Championships, despite starting far behind the leaders in 15th place after the SP, she finished in 5th place overall after a performance in the FS that brought the arena to its feet in a standing ovation. Along with the fact that she very rarely made mistakes, she had left a striking impression.

However at a turn, this season had become a year of struggles.  What had become the source of her stumbles was her SP. She would make mistakes in it during competitions, and even though she would make up some of the lost points in her FS, her results faltered.

She had thought since before the season began that the SP was an issue to tackle. The level of difficulty of transitions between elements had been raised, and so had the overall level of her programme. Separately, she struggled with expressing the genre of tango. Although her choreographer requested for her to express “the psychology of an adult woman”, for her “I couldn’t really visualise it...”. When asked whether it was a case of there being aspects she could not engage with despite trying hard, she denied it, saying “The choreographer chose it as he believed I could do it; it’s only that my level is too low.”

After intense practice following her 4th place finishes at both the Cup of China and Internationaux de France on the Grand Prix Series, she was determined to have “no mistakes” at the Japanese National Championships. However, she made a mistake on her 2A in the SP, and was not able to fully overcome it.

“I think I rushed into the jump. I was extremely anxious. It wasn’t even the first jump, and moreover I had not made a mistake on the axel previously, and I wondered why (I made this mistake).”

She was in 7th place after the SP.

“I was really frustrated, and thought about a lot of things. It was difficult to put it out of my mind and refocus. But the theme of my FS was the image of an angel skating and hoping for peace, and from the moment I thought that there isn’t any angel who would skate with a sad face I calmed down.”

She said she had only one thought in her mind as she went into the FS,

“I thought that not just the Olympics, but I probably would not be sent to the Four Continents or the World Championships as well, so the FS at the Japanese  National Championships will be my last performance this season.”

With a superb performance, she was 3rd in the FS, and finished in 5th place overall. 

“But I was regretful. Especially about the SP. I wanted to do this season over again. Once again, from the time we started choreographing the SP.”

Mihara murmured these words softly.

The moment the Olympic representatives were announced, Sakamoto looked fixedly at the ground

For the two of them who had set their eyes on the same goal, their paths separated on the final day of the Japanese National Championships, 24 December.

At 10 pm, the competitors from all the events were gathered in one room at the venue. Sakamoto recalled that the top 6 finishers in the Ladies category were told to be there.

“The skaters, their coaches and JSF officials were all there in one room. I waited nervously while thinking hurry up, hurry up. My confidence regarding being chosen or not was fifty-fifty. I had not really achieved great results to date, and it was also my first year in Seniors.”

The announcement of the representatives to the Olympics, the World Championships, and the Four Continents Championships began.

“It felt like which competition, Ladies’ singles, who and who, were read out briefly without waiting for the words to settle.”

The announcement started with the representatives for the PyeongChang Olympics. After Satoko Miyahara whose spot was already confirmed as she had met the criteria (of winning the National Championships), she heard “Ladies singles, Kaori Sakamoto”. However, a smile was nowhere to be seen on Sakamoto’s face.

“I was like that before my name was called, and also after my name was called.”

She kept her eyes on the ground. Because skaters who were not chosen to be the representatives were in the room. And Mihara was also there. 

“I could not look directly at Mai-chan.”

As the skaters selected to the Olympic team were to be presented to the audience at the venue, they were asked to quickly prepare to go onto the rink. 

“As I rushed to get ready, I thought it was good that there was no time and I had to return to the rink. In the end, I did not see her expression even once.”

Mihara had the following recollection of the same scene,

“I was happy just to be able to go to that room, and very happy when I was chosen for the Four Continents Championships.”

But there was something that made her even happier.

“It was when Kao-chan’s name was called. I thought it would be great if Kao-chan was chosen.”

Mihara called out to Sakamoto who was putting on her skates in the backstage area behind the rink. She said “Congratulations. I am happy that my friend who trains together with me will go to the Olympics.”

Sakamoto’s reply to these words were “ “Thank you.” In any case, there was only thankfulness.”

Sakamoto describes her thoughts regarding the Olympics in these words,

“I don’t have any pressure. It’s a lie, there totally is. (laughs) I was chosen as I did not make major mistakes at Skate America and the Japanese National Championships and this was regarded well in appraisal. Therefore I think it is unacceptable if I don’t perform well. Just like at the Japanese National Championships, I want to be able to be joyful together with Nakano-sensei and Graham-sensei in the Kiss and Cry.”

And then, she said “Just for one day, I would like to try becoming Hanyu-kun. I want to know how the view that can be seen from the podium is like.”

As for Mihara, she revealed her ambition for the Four Continents Championships. “I think the reason why until now I have not really been able to get into my SP in competitions is more due to emotional rather than technical aspects. I am really weak. And I think I don’t have strengths that other skaters do not have.”

She let out the word “weak”. This was a word I had never heard her say in any of her past interviews. However, at the moment someone admits their weakness, they are no longer weak.

“However,” Mihara continues, “no matter how weak I am, I will probably not lose heart. I think that will only happen when I’m near death and am dying. I think if skating is taken from me there will be nothing left.”

She added with a tranquil expression, “I will not lose heart. If I continue not losing heart, perhaps one day I will even enter the Guinness book of records? (laughs)”

During official practice at competitions, Mihara always climbs to the highest row of the spectator stands. 

“At the time when I was not certain whether to start skating, I went to watch a competition. I have the memory of the rink looking very small from a seat in the higher sections of the stands, and I climb up each time in order to verify how the people seated at the seats furthest from the rink see the performances. I want to convey the joy and happiness of being able to devote my life to skating, and to become a skater who can give a performance that touches people. I think if I can give performances I am able to be satisfied with the results will come, and I want to go to the Beijing Olympics (in 2022). But first, I want to skate my SP perfectly at the Four Continents Championships.”

And then, she talked about Sakamoto in these words, 

“I am always able to laugh when I’m with Kao-chan. Although I think we look like a comedy duo (laughs), she is kind and considerate, and therefore I can smile whenever we are together.” 

Sakamoto thinks of Mihara in the following way,

“To me, she is someone I cannot do without even from now on. If Mai-chan did not come to Kobe, I would not even have become a JSF-funded skater*. It is great that she is here.”

At the Four Continents Championships in late January, Sakamoto made her debut at the event and won it for the first time, proving that her performances at the Japanese National Championships were not just momentum. Mihara gave her best performance of her SP of the season, the SP she has struggled with, and with an overall 2nd place finish, etched out a start towards four years later.

This time, their paths parted. Nevertheless, what is unchanged is their believing in their respective futures, supporting each other, and encouraging each other along the way as they continue their journey. With thankfulness for meeting the best companion.

*The original term is 強化選手, which literally means skaters to be strengthened/developed. As far as I am aware this involves funding from the JSF so have chosen to use the less awkward phrase of “JSF-funded”.

Original article by Takaomi Matsubara, published in Sports Graphic Number vol. 945

[redgreenbluesforloco]

Asahi feature on how Akiko overcame anorexia to become National Champion in 2013

Trigger warning for a detailed account of Akiko’s struggle with an eating disorder (anorexia nervosa), including physical and psychological effects. {Note: I’m not at all an experienced jpn to eng translator, and this is my first time translating such a long article on a complex subject. The phrasing may be awkward and there may be some mistakes. If you notice any, please do let me know.}

Content under the cut: Main article + Akiko’s letter to her mother + a segment on the correlation between the “athletic mentality” and eating disorders and what kind of support is available in Japan to those suffering from EDs

Her weight having once been as low as 32kg, Akiko was able to return to the ice

As the sound of Phantom of the Opera filled the arena, she landed clean combination jumps in sync with the music. Even on this final battle, she displayed a rich variety of expressions as she danced. Once she struck the final pose, her hands clenched into fists and she let her arms drop. During the four minutes of her free skate, there had been no mistakes.

It was at the National Championships on the 23rd of December, 2013, that the Olympic representatives would also be decided. Having come from 2nd place in the SP into the FS, Akiko Suzuki (33) had tears streaming down her face. “It’s been a long time, but I’m glad I’ve skated for this long.”

When she was 18, she developed an eating disorder. For over half a year, she was in a state that made it impossible to skate at all. She was able to make a recovery after hitting rock bottom, and now, in a surprise victory, managed to place 1st, scoring very high marks in the FS. She had secured a place in the Olympics for the 2nd time. Her mother, Keiko (68), who had been watching the performance, was overcome with emotion: “I guess Gods do reward you in the end.”

Akiko started skating when she was 6 years old. She had been learning many things, but what she wanted to pursue was skating. From her home in Toyohashi (Aichi prefecture) she’d go to train in a rink in Nagoya. When her father Kazunori (71) and Keiko, who ran a restaurant, were busy, one of their regular customers would sometimes pick her up at the rink. The food served was mainly Japanese cuisine.

During summer and winter vacations after she started middle school, she’d go to a training camp to be instructed by Coach Hiroshi Nagakubo. Her jumping technique was lackluster, but she loved to dance. What set her apart was her exquisite expressive ability. On her 1st and 2nd years of high school she placed 4th twice in a row in the National Championships. People’s expectations of her future grew.  


After graduating high school, she went on to attend Tohoku Fukushi university in Sendai, and decided to tackle skating in Coach Nakubo’s home base. At the same time, her peers from the same hometown of Aichi, Miki Ando and Yukari Nakano, were living abroad on and off to train.

In March of 2003, she began her stay at her coach’s house. Laundry, cleaning, preparing her own meals: if she couldn’t do everything perfectly she’d get frustrated with herself. She had morning practice; then, after attending lectures at university, she’d be back in the rink again. It was the start of a life that revolved around skating to an unhealthy extent. 


The shape of a woman’s body changes easily during puberty. For the sake of scoring in competitions, she had been warned about the importance of self-management. If she lost weight, she’d be able to jump more easily. She didn’t want to be told she couldn’t manage by herself after moving out of her parents’ home. She was taken captive by those kind of thoughts.

She then changed her bowl to a child-sized one and stopped eating anything greasy or fried. She wouldn’t eat vegetables that had been cooked with any kind of grease. Little by little, she increased the number of rules for herself. She wouldn’t eat meat anymore and was very particular about ingredients put in side dishes, no matter how small the quantity. 


She’d measure her weight 5 times a day. If she didn’t get on a scale she couldn’t relax. If her weight had gone down, that was proof her hard work had paid off. With a height of 161cm, her weight dropped from 48kg to 40kg in one month.

During an extended vacation in May, she came to visit her mother at the Izakaya she ran in Toyohashi. The moment she opened the door, her mother exclaimed, “What happened?” She looked so thin she was hard to recognize.

When she went back to Sendai, she never skipped practices or college lectures, but there was a tough commute including a transfer from the train to a bus. After attending 90 minute lectures, she’d be very tired. By the time she arrived at the rink, the practice was sloppy; she became unable to perform even simple spins. Yukio Shibata (69) the head of the skating division, noticed this and told her, “Why don’t you go home?”

At the end of May, Keiko-san took her to see a psychiatrist at a Toyohashi hospital. As the doctor listened to her symptoms and measured her weight, he informed them that she was anorexic. It is a type of eating disorder now called anorexia nervosa, an illness characterized by extreme concern over weight to the point where one develops a tendency to skip meals altogether. This results in an increasing danger of malnutrition. Although the person suffering from the disorder diets often, they do not realize they have lost weight.

Having already been concerned over the strange changes her daughter was going through, the doctor’s explanation satisfied Keiko. But Akiko could not accept that her efforts were being called an ‘illness.’ The thoughts that crossed her mind were along the lines of “I wanted to be thin so I lost weight. I can gain it back, so it’s fine.”

She was prescribed medication to raise her blood pressure as well as antidepressants. She couldn’t sleep no matter how tired she was, so she started taking sleeping pills. She had so little body fat she felt cold even in the middle of the day. Despite all of this, she couldn’t bring herself to drink the canned nutritional supplement given to her by the hospital: “If I drink this, I’ll get fat.”

She couldn’t even eat the meals her mother made for her. “Eat just a little bit of something nutritious,” she was told. She thought, “I’m doing what I can.” It was painful for her to see the sad look on her mother’s face.

The impatience to skate grew worse. She would go to the rink in Nagoya, but she was tired out just from the one-and-a-half-hour commute and would come back home without having been able to accomplish anything. That summer, her weight dropped as low as 32kg.

She’d developed this eating disorder when she enrolled in university in 2003. At that time, she weighed 48kg. By the summer of that year she weighed 32kg.

By the end of May she had gone back home to Toyohashi (Aichi prefecture), moving out of her boarding place in Nagoya. However, she would still not eat the food her mother, Keiko, tried to give her. Her mother would plead with her, “Please eat.” But it was not so simple, although it was painful to see her mother look so sad.


In July, Keiko-san tried to tell her, “Let’s go to the hospital.” She earnestly told Akiko, “I just want you to live.” But Akiko stubbornly refused, saying, “If I go, it means I won’t be able to skate.” She couldn’t imagine being herself if she couldn’t skate.

A change in Keiko’s words created the opportunity for Akiko to face the challenge of eating. Instead of ordering Akiko to eat, she said, “Let’s start with whatever you feel you can eat and go from there.” Akiko had thought her parents would not accept her unless she was perfect, but now she began to feel as though her current self could be accepted in her entirety. Tofu, fruits, sugar-free yogurt. Little by little, she began to eat what she could. 


In the autumn, she was scheduled to appear in her first GP competition, Skate Canada. But she had been away from the rink and her new programs had not been choreographed yet. In September, she phoned the Japanese Skating Federation and said that she could not attend due to health problems. “I’ve missed my chance,” she thought, and broke down in tears after the phone call.

In the middle of autumn, she became determined and returned to Sendai: “I want to be on the ice once again.” Coach Nagakubo, however, told her, “I can’t let you practice. First you have to get your weight back up to 40kg.” To start with, she worked on regaining her physical strength through walking. 


When it came to her fear of eating, it was one step forward, one step back. Head of the skating division Yukio Shibata introduced her to a clinic nearby where she would get IV drips with vitamins and nutrients. She told a nurse there, “I have to eat, but I just can’t.” The nurse responded, “It’s okay. Just take it slow for now.” Suzuki felt grateful to receive a reaction so full of acceptance.  


Her food intake gradually increased in quantity. She gradually became more positive with both her body and mind. Her weight having once been below 40kg, she returned to her 1st year of university and stood on the ice once again.

The muscles supporting her torso had become weak to the point where she would fall down trying to skate forward. She became wary of people’s gaze. She felt as though her skinny thighs were being stared at. “But that’s just the reality,” she thought. In order to skate, she worked hard to accept the reality that faced her. She decided to try and make an appearance in January 2004 at an intercollegiate championship. The head of the skating division at Fukushi University Yukio Shibata recounts, “I couldn’t believe she’d really skate.” 


She didn’t know whether she would be able to complete the performance. She couldn’t do 3 rotation jumps – she could only make it to two and a half. The time when she had placed highly in the ranks during high school at the National Championships “seemed like a lifetime ago.” 


At that time, Noriko Hongo, who ran a beauty salon in Miyagi, Sendai, would often take Akiko out. She was the same age as Suzuki’s mother, Keiko. Noriko had two figure skating daughters who used to be enrolled at the same university club as Suzuki, and had been told by Shibata, “Please look after [Akiko].” 

“Let’s go to a place that has food that Akko likes!” Suzuki adored Noriko and her serene voice, dubbing her “my Sendai mother.” They would go to a karaoke snack bar just for fun, without drinking alcohol. After her morning practice, Akiko would go to Noriko’s house to take a nap. Noriko would help take care of her eating habits, making her Japanese food with plenty of vegetables. Although she could still not eat meat, as the items that she could eat increased, she began to feel as though she might recover.

She had to rebuild her muscles one by one. In practice, she had to re-learn everything from theory to application. She started being able to do things that just a week before had been impossible for her. She re-lived the joyful moments from childhood: “I was able to do that jump! I was able to spin correctly!” Her club coach Hiroshi Nakubo patted her on the back and told her, “You can definitely make a comeback.” 


Akiko was aware that body-building is essential for athletes, so eating habits were also an aspect of training. The self-imposed rules about what she had to eat continued to decrease. However, she still couldn’t bring herself to eat meat. She had accepted a piece of information she found on her own that said that “grease is always bad,” and at first, she believed meat to be greasy. She knew that the proteins were good for muscle-building, but she couldn’t shake off the fear. 


The breakthrough came at the end of her 3rd year of university, when some thin-sliced pork with salad was served. She was told by friends, “You don’t have to force yourself.” Somehow she wanted to try it. “I think it might be okay,” she said, sincerely believing that it would. 


When Shizuka Arakawa was selected as a representative at the national championships for the Torino Olympics in 2006 where she won gold, Akiko could not make the last group along with the top-ranked skaters. She was told, “What a shame that you had to have a setback at that time.” The frustration was overwhelming.

In 2007, she won the Winter Universiade Competition. She was able to secure the ticket to the 2010 Vancouver Olympics that she so desired, where she placed 8th. “I’ll stop when I’m satisfied with myself.” Another year, and then another, and so on. She went to her 2nd Olympics in 2014 Sochi, and placed 8th once again. It probably used to be unimaginable for anyone that she would get to go to the Olympics twice. “To keep going while I was sick, I needed power and perseverance, but the objective of continuing to skate gave me the motivation to overcome the obstacles in my way.” 


Having had the experience of an eating disorder, just being able to skate made her happy. The fact that she was able to compete like she did was, after all, due to her healthy body. She now asks that female athletes seek medical help if they are experiencing sudden and drastic changes in their weight or amenorrhea (absence of menstruation/skipping periods).

After the March 2014 Worlds in which she retired, she’s been living as a professional skater and choreographer. She also commentated on the Pyeongchang Olympics on television. Skating has accompanied her throughout her life. She would like to continue with the activities that allow her to communicate her love of the sport.

Akiko’s letter to her mother

Akiko’s mother still treasures a letter Akiko sent her when she was finally able to go to skate Canada after having to withdraw the previous time. She keeps it in her wallet to this day. In this letter, Akiko reflects on how she cried talking on the phone and withdrawing from the competition, and how she feels happy being able to stand on the same arena that she would have been standing on back then. “[…]I’m very happy to be standing here having recovered this part of myself that I’d lost, my ability to skate. Thank you for standing by me all this time and working hard alongside me. I will be returning as myself, a healthy self!”

The dangers that lurk in the mentality of athletes

Eating disorders are characterized by an excessive concern/pickiness toward body weight and food intake, and a person suffering from such an illness becomes unable to eat normally. These nervous disorders are generally classified as anorexia, which dramatically decreases one’s food intake and causes weight loss to the point of malnutrition, or bulimia, in which one continues to eat food in large quantities. In the case of bulimia, excessive eating will often be followed by throwing up, taking laxatives etc. 


It is thought to stem from a combination of psychological factors such as perfectionism or low self-esteem and external factors such as family environment, society’s preference for thinness. Research conducted by the Ministry of Health estimated the patients to be at around 25.000, but there are doubts as to its accuracy.

Rehabilitation offers important resources such as having someone to listen carefully to the words of the person suffering from the eating disorder as well as offer advice to their families and guidance regarding proper nutrition. But there are still few medical institutions specializing in diagnosis and treatment. There are federal or municipal institutions called “Centers for Rehabilitation and Support for Eating Disorders” in Miyagi, Chiba, Shizuoka, Fukuoka.

It’s becoming clear that athletes in particular are suffering from eating disorders. Whether in sports like figure skating and rhythm gymnastics, where the competition involves aesthetic appeal, or track-and-field sports, the need to control one’s weight is particularly demanding. Aside from Akiko Suzuki, other female skaters who have been open about suffering from these disorders include America’s Gracie Gold and Russia’s Yulia Lipnitskaya.

Research from overseas suggests the risk to kids who have this athletic mentality, with characteristics such as stoicism, perfectionism, having an inclination to please their mentors and coaches etc. are twice as vulnerable to eating disorders as people in general.

Mari Suzuki, a doctor from the Japanese Association for Eating Disorders (based in Tokyo), pointed out, “Puberty is when your body weight increases and your bones and muscles are developing. And there are still trainers who will advise them to lose weight.”

The association’s “Support Guidebook: Tackling Eating Disorders as a Team” lists warning signs in an athlete’s behavior, including having an excessive amount of rules about eating, planning an excessive amount of training, drastic weight changes, a life in disarray. They are encouraging people to seek expert advice. The Association offers a course directed at coaches and mentors of athletes about 4 times a year. They also offer free advice through their email address.

Source: https://digital.asahi.com/articles/SDI201806019805.html

[willexxmercer]

A Leaf on a Breeze

Years later, Echo realized something in hindsight. She should have known that of course it would have been Harper, the girl with so much heart, who reached out first, and she was forever grateful for it.

or

Echo feels alone on the Ring, and Harper is the one who brings her out of her shell.

aka I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELS ABOUT HARPER HAVING A HEART OF GOLD OKAY?

Read on AO3 | Read on ff.net

The first few months living in space were rough.  Echo couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t really part of the group, even if she did sit with them for meals.  The two couples spent all their free time with their respective partners, and Raven and Bellamy often disappeared to some corner of the Ring to discuss private matters, and Echo couldn’t shake the feeling that none of them really wanted her there with them, so she spent her days alone.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though.  Echo tried to make herself useful, whether it was at the algae farm (where Monty and Harper were too sickeningly cute for her to handle) or in the mechanical room (where Raven eventually broke down and shouted at her not to get in her way while she was trying to figure things out).  Coupled with the fact that Bellamy looked at her with that look of betrayal when he thought she wasn’t watching him and Murphy outright ignoring her when she asked him if he could tell her how to get back to the cafeteria when she got lost, Echo simply felt out of place.  Even Emori wasn’t really talking to her, although that might have had something to do with the fact that she had accidentally slipped and called her a Frikdreina one evening in their first month on the Ring.  Old habits were hard to shake, even though she was genuinely trying.

The worst part, though, was that space was so different from being down on the ground.  On the ground, she could feel the wind in her hair.  Here, everything was monitored by the computer Raven fiddled with almost constantly, and there was no wind, only a constant, comfortable temperature and lights that dimmed at the exact same time every evening and brightened at the exact same time every morning.  On the ground, Echo had snuck out as a child once to dance in the rain, but on the Ring, there was no rain.  And on the ground, Echo could lie on her back every evening and watch the stars.  She couldn’t do that on the Ring.

One evening, five months in, shortly before the lights were set to dim, Echo found herself standing next to one of the giant windows looking out into the vast emptiness of space.  With a heavy sigh, she crouched down, then slowly lowered herself into a lying position, on her side. She lay there like that, watching as the Ring orbited around Earth (a concept she had heard Raven telling Emori about).  It was sad, looking down at the place that had been her home and seeing it so scorched and dry and empty.  Raven had said they needed to stay in space for five years, but Echo wasn’t sure she could last that long in such a different atmosphere.

Her eyes filled with tears and she squeezed them shut, willing the tears away.  This wasn’t like her.  She didn’t cry.  Yet here she was, crying for a world that for all intents and purposes didn’t exist anymore.  Azgeda didn’t exist.  Her home didn’t exist.  Her new home hardly felt like a home.  She was alone.  She was a leaf on a breeze, floating, yet never noticed.

Soft footsteps sounded behind her, and Echo breathed in sharply through her nose.  Her eyes flicked upwards, trying to spot who it was in the reflection on the glass, but at her angle it was hard to tell.  The long hair told her it was one of the girls, though.  She steeled herself, breathing in more deeply and rising into a sitting position, swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.  There was no way she was going to let whoever it was see her cry.

The other girl crouched down beside her.  “It’s almost night,” Harper said, her voice soft.  It had to be her.  Echo had been observing the others during meal times, taking in everything she could, trying to figure out how she could somehow connect with someone, anyone, and Harper was someone she could see herself opening up to, if she had the chance.  The other girl was so kind, and soft, yet she could tell there was armour there.  She had seen things, Echo could tell, and from the limited information she gleaned from the conversations she overheard, Harper was someone who could relate to her own experiences.  She didn’t know the specifics, but she knew Harper had been hurt at Mount Weather.  Just like her.  If Echo had to pick one person from their group (aside from Bellamy), she would want to get to know Harper.

“Are you okay?” Harper’s voice cut through Echo’s thoughts and she quickly shook her head, swiping her hand across her cheek again.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said tersely, instinctively straightening her back and lifting her chin, still sitting cross-legged on the floor.  It was an attempt to show confidence, to deflect from the pain she was trying to mask in her eyes.  “Just watching Earth.”

“You sure?  You didn’t show for cards, and we were worried about you,” the other girl said, clearly choosing her words carefully.  Every evening the group would play cards, and every evening Echo would come and sit in the corner of the room, watching.  It wasn’t a surprise to Echo that she had missed it, since it was usually just another reminder that she was alone, that the others were all close friends and she was the outcast.

“I didn’t think you would miss me.  I never play,” she replied, keeping her insecurities locked away for the time being.  For the first time since Harper had found her, she turned to look at the other girl.  She was watching Echo with a soft expression on her face, and Echo wanted to scream.  She wanted to shake her by the shoulders and remind her that they had all made it clear that Echo was merely living on the Ring with them, that she really didn’t feel welcome at their little social events, but instead she turned away, looking out the window again.  The view had changed thanks to the rotation of the Ring, and now she was looking out into the black expanse of space.

“You know…” Harper started, shifting as though she wanted to sit closer to Echo.  Echo merely shuffled a few inches away, and the other girl sighed, scooting back and leaning against the wall, “we do notice when you’re not around.  You really should play sometime, it’s fun.”

Echo scoffed at that.  “Sure.  I’ll  come over to play, and then Bellamy will leave because he can’t bear to look at me when he remembers what I did to his sister, and Emori will leave because I slipped once, four months ago, and Murphy will leave with her, and Raven will go check on Bellamy, and…” she trailed off, biting her lip.  Somehow, she had ended up with her hands folded together and she was squeezing them so hard her knuckles were turning white.

Harper merely sat there, staring at her with those big hazel eyes, unblinking.  After a long, uncomfortable pause, during which Echo seriously considered just standing up and walking away, she finally spoke.

“Echo… Bellamy is dealing with so much right now.  He doesn’t hate you, I promise, but… there’s a lot there, with Clarke, and Octavia… but don’t forget, he convinced you to come with us in the first place.  You were going to... “ it was clear Harper didn’t want to finish that sentence, and Echo merely shrugged, “and he made sure you were on that rocket.  And Raven is his lifeline.  When she’s not keeping the Ring working for us, she’s with him, making sure he doesn’t do something stupid.  And don’t beat yourself up over Emori and Murphy, okay?  We all make mistakes, and they know you didn’t mean it.  They’re just… they have each other and they’ve been through a lot too.  I just… don’t want you to think that we don’t care, because we do…”

Echo scoffed again.  This time, she did stand up and start to walk off, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.  She turned, coming face to face with Harper.

“You have to let us in,” the younger girl said, her hand sliding down Echo’s arm and taking her hand, covering it with both of hers.  Echo shivered at the intimate gesture.  It had been so long since anyone had been so soft with her.  “You sit there alone, and we think it’s what you want.  You stopped trying to help us, and we thought you wanted to spend these five years alone, so we were giving you space.  But if you don’t want that, if you don’t want to be alone, then you have to let us in.”  Harper stared into her eyes and Echo cast her gaze downwards, trying to process what she was hearing.

“I didn’t realize…” she mumbled, swallowing a lump in her throat, “I always thought no one wanted me around.  I spent so much time alone, carrying out my missions for Azgeda, but I’ve never felt more alone than I have up here.”  It came out as a whisper, and Echo felt the tears brimming at the corner of her eyes again.  Harper gave a small, consoling smile.

“Look, Echo… we have four and a half years left up here, and I really don’t think it would be good if you spent it wandering around, staring out at Earth all alone with your thoughts,” she said, brushing her thumb over the top of Echo’s hand.  Echo gave a small nod.

“I don’t like being alone,” she admitted, glancing down at their joined hands.

Harper nodded in return.  “Then let us in,” she replied, shrugging a shoulder.  Echo nodded more firmly, then pulled her hand from Harper’s and turned, walking back to the window.  Harper followed her, standing just behind her and off to the side.

“Did you know,” Echo started, looking out at the darkness, “I used to lie on my back and watch the stars every night?  Even when I was out spying for Queen Nia, when I was younger.  I still did it every once in a while when I grew up, though I stopped after Mount Weather.”  She saw Harper flinch ever so slightly out of the corner of her eye at the mention of the place and cringed.  “I started again when Roan became King.”  She smiled, and it felt odd.  Harper nodded, gazing out the window, but Echo could tell she was listening intently.  “I miss it.  It’s different, up here.  The stars look different from this angle.  I can’t really make out the constellations I used to love finding,” she admitted, glancing sideways at the younger girl.

Harper turned to look at her at about the same time with a bright smile on her face.  Echo couldn’t tell whether it was because she had told a story about herself or if it was about the story itself, until she spoke.  “That’s how I felt when we first arrived on the ground.  I was arrested late, when I was 16, so I had plenty of time throughout my childhood to look out at the stars.  Coming down to Earth was so strange because all of a sudden we could look up and see them directly above us.  So I get it, I really do.”

Echo gave another genuine smile.  As she had once predicted, she and Harper seemed like they had the potential to get along quite well.  Part of her was curious about the casual mention of being arrested, but she figured that was a story the girl would tell in her own time.  Then Harper got a dangerous glint to her eyes and Echo arched an eyebrow.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, not sure whether or not she should be scared.  Harper merely laughed, shaking her head.

“I just thought of something,” she replied, reaching out and taking Echo’s hand.  All of a sudden, Echo was being pulled along down the hall, stumbling only a little as she tried to match Harper’s pace.

“Where are we going?” Echo asked, glancing around, trying to remember if she knew much of this part of the Ring.  Harper glanced behind her and winked.

“You’ll see.  Come on!” she exclaimed, dragging Echo along until she stopped in front of a perfectly ordinary looking door.  Echo frowned, glancing up and down the corridor before staring straight at the door.

“What is--” she started before Harper cut her off.

“You’ll see,” she repeated, fidgeting with the door for a moment, then opening it.  “My dad told me about this room a long time ago.  He took my mom here on their first date.”

Now Echo was really confused.  Either she had entirely misread the relationship between Harper and Monty, or Harper was playing her like a fool.  Either way, she wasn’t sure what to expect as Harper dragged her inside the room and closed the door.  The room was small and windowless with a small bench against the wall and soft, plush carpeting on the floor.  Shaking her head, she started to mumble.  “I really don’t think--”

Harper interrupted her yet again, this time by tugging her elbow and pulling her down to the floor.  “Lie down,” she commanded.  Thrown by the forcefulness in the other girl’s voice, Echo immediately obeyed, lying on her back.  She could hear Harper messing with something and mumbling under her breath, but she couldn’t make out what the other girl was doing.

Suddenly, the whole room went pitch black for a mere second before the ceiling lit up with thousands of tiny lights.  Echo’s lips opened in a small ‘o’ shape as she instantly recognized some of the patterns.

“What is this?” she breathed, feeling Harper lying down on the floor next to her.  Harper was quiet for a moment before answering.

“When people first came up on the Ark, they missed the ground, like you.  They especially missed seeing the stars, so some engineer built this room.  You can set it to display the stars as they can been seen from anywhere in the world,” she explained in a soft voice.  Echo nodded, though she knew Harper couldn’t see her, and turned to look back at the ceiling.

“That used to be my favourite,” she said, pointing up at Orion, “because Orion was a hunter, and I liked that.”  She heard Harper giggle next to her and instantly clammed up.  Just as quickly, Harper was sitting up and looking down at her, the outline of her body illuminated by the starlight.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to laugh, it’s just… Orion’s from Greek mythology, right?  Bellamy’s a huge nerd for Greek mythology.  It’s just amusing that there’s someone else who likes it,” she said.  Echo could just make out the movement as she shrugged her shoulders.

That was interesting.  Echo wouldn’t exactly say she liked Greek mythology, but she did know a bit about it, from the stories she had been told as a child.  It was something, though.  Something she could possibly talk to Bellamy about.  Harper seemed to read her thoughts.

“Give him time, okay?  He’ll come around,” she whispered before lying down beside Echo again.

The pair lay like that for what seemed like hours, chatting occasionally, until Harper suddenly bolted upright.  Echo, trained to notice quick motions like that, rose as well, on high alert.  “What is it?” Echo asked, watching as the dark shape that was Harper stood and went to the panel, playing with it until the starlights went out and the room slowly brightened to the dim state the entire Ring was in for the night hours.

“Monty’s probably worried sick,” Harper replied, looking extremely guilty.  Echo stood, walking over to her.

“It’s okay.  You should go to him,” she said, turning to the door and opening it.  Harper followed her out into the hallway, a bashful expression on her face.  Echo offered a small smile.  “Thank you for this, Harper.  I mean it,” she said earnestly, trying to show her with her eyes just how grateful she was.  It worked, and Harper smiled softly.

“Will you play cards with us tomorrow?” she asked, hopefully.  Echo laughed.  It felt odd, different, but nice.

“Perhaps,” she replied, arching an eyebrow.  Her new friend (for she felt comfortable calling Harper a friend) giggled.

“I’m going to hug you, okay?” she said.  Echo was thrown by that.  Hugs weren’t familiar to her.  She wasn’t used to showing and receiving affection, and it was obvious her discomfort showed on her face as Harper hesitated, her arms half up.  Those arms slowly fell to Harper’s sides, and she sighed.  “Or maybe we could build up to a hug?”

Echo nodded.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  Harper merely shook her head and instead reached for her hand, squeezing it gently before turning and walking back towards the part of the Ring where they all lived.  Echo followed, breaking off when they reached her room.

The next evening, Echo took up her usual spot in the corner, watching the other six playing cards and laughing.  Roughly halfway through the second game, though, Harper looked up, over Murphy’s shoulder, and made eye contact with her.  It took Echo a minute to steel herself, ready for the rejection she was sure was going to come from the others, and then she rose and slowly walked towards the group and Harper’s bright smile.  Monty noticed her approaching first, then Emori.  That made Murphy glance back, his eyes guarded.  Next to look back was Raven, a curious look in her eyes.  Finally, the person Echo wanted so much to approve of her grew curious and turned, his elbow on the back of the chair.  She couldn’t read his expression.

Echo forced herself to take those last few steps, stopping a few feet away from the table.  “I was wondering… if there was room for one more?” she asked, slowly, almost tentatively.  Curse her fears.  Harper nodded encouragingly, though, and she grew more confident.  “I’d like to learn how to play.”

To her surprise, Emori was the first to shrug, then nod.  “We could use another player.  It would balance out against Raven’s genius,” she said, standing and grabbing another chair, setting it beside her.  Monty voiced his approval, followed by Raven, and Murphy merely shrugged after Harper gave him a fierce look.  All eyes were on Bellamy, who met Echo’s gaze with that same unreadable expression.

“Okay,” he said, turning around to face the table again.  Echo sighed in relief, then walked around, realizing she was going to be sitting opposite Bellamy.  Her heart skipped a beat, but she managed to mask it, instead looking over at Raven and listening intently while she explained the rules.  Later, when the game was finished, Harper and Echo returned to the starlight room and spent hours debriefing on how she had fared with the others.

Years later, when Harper gave her one last hug to calm her nerves before her wedding to Bellamy, Echo realized something in hindsight.  She should have known that of course it would have been Harper, the girl with so much heart, who reached out first, and she was forever grateful for it.

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

The Death of My Skillet

When you move out on your own, one of the most common things people say is that you will eat all the garbage food because it’s cheap and easy. I like to live my life in spite so I chose to predominantly cook meals at home. Proper, decent-for-you meals because I wanted to take care of myself and not fall into the habit of buying instant noodles and frozen dinners all the time. I tended to meal prep all my food for the week on sunday and on one of those fateful days I decided to make falafels. It seemed easy enough: pour the mix in a bowl, add some water and oil, and mush it all together, then take that mush and fry it as little patties on a skillet.

Oh my skillet. My beautiful skillet. With its pristine white color and pale, wood handle. I bought it randomly at Winners before I had even planned on moving out. I just wanted a nice skillet to make my own lunches on. It was one of two that I owned when I migrated to my murder building. The other was naught but a wee single-egg skillet, not ideal for anything but.

As directed, I plopped the falafel mix in batches onto the skillet that had a decent amount of very hot oil in it (as said to do on the box). I made about three before I realized they were beginning to stick more and more, despite the skillet being non-stick. It became a race against time. I rapidly scooped through the mix bowl trying my darndest to fry each falafel thoroughly but swiftly. Each patty adding more burnt falafel debris to the surface of the skillet. I tried desperately to scrape off what I could in between frying with a rubber spatula. As Odin would have it, the rubber of the spatula began to melt and become part of the skillet. Each scrape I made resulted in black gunk taking the place of burnt falafel. By the time all the mix was cooked in patties birthed from disappointment, my skillet was almost completely black and dark brown, even the bottom of it had burned somehow. I stared, defeated at the ruins of my one and only means of cooking.

Refusing to let this battle between me and falafels kill my pan for good, I soaked it in a shit ton of soap and hot water. Two days I soaked it to no avail. I scrubbed with the dinky sponge I had and even needed to replace it with another from the same package. The grime just laughed at me as I whined to myself about my stupid decision to try and be healthy, scrubbing until my hands cramped. Three days had passed since that fateful evening when I resorted to calling my mother. The advice she gave involved a heavy duty sponge and elbow grease.

Here’s a thing about me. I have limited common knowledge of things and an abundance of obscure nonsense roaming around my brain. As such, I had never heard of the term “elbow grease”. I just assumed that was a stupid name for a cleaning product. Not wanting to go into London Drugs and having no idea what the packaging of what I wanted looked like, I searched it up. The first result was a bright fluorescent green bottle called Elbow Grease listed on amazon. I decided to be optimistic and hope that it would also live in a regular drug store. Strolling down the cleaning aisle I found no such thing. After scouring the shelves about four times I got my bravery on and asked for help. The lady I confided in stared at me for a moment and then said, laughing “you won’t find that anywhere in the world, that only comes from your body”. She went on her merry way after that, leaving me staring in embarrassment and utter confusion. I knew I wasn’t crazy. I saw the product online. I knew it existed. Maybe she just hadn’t heard of it. Maybe it was as unheard of as I thought when my mother mentioned it. To make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating something on the computer, I called my mother again and grumbled to her about how I was laughed at for asking about elbow grease even though I saw it online. It was then she told me that was just an expression. I grumbled some more saying things like “you know I’m super gullible and things go over my head” and “you’ve never said that before so how would I know?” and probably something around “you humiliated me and made me look like an idiot”.

My dignity dwindled as I went home with my head down, heavy duty sponge, and no elbow grease. I returned to my skillet and, as a hail mary, scrubbed it like no tomorrow with my new sponge. Gradually the white shone through more and more. Ignoring the slight tinge of brown around the walls, my skillet was scrubbed clean, and as it turned out, the non-stick layer was also scrubbed out of existence.

I gave that skillet a bit of a vacation from being used, it needed the rest. Unfortunately, after using it a couple more times, I found that things stuck to it no matter what I added to make it slippery like butter or oil. It was then that I decided to purchase a new one.

I found two.

One around the same size that was a nice olive green and another that was larger and more wok shaped in a darker green. Both donned wood handles to match the casualty I had in the under-oven-drawer at home.

I never gave up my original skillet. Though I mainly rotate betwixt the other two, I still make scrambled eggs on the sad one because I can live with eating the flaky egg bits that I have to scrape off the bottom. I bought a set of bamboo spatula and spoon situations as well to avoid burning anymore rubber onto any skillet henceforth from the tragedy. I haven't made falafels since then and I cook now with more fear than ever.

That incident changed me as a person. It gave me newfound trauma and added to my hatred of cooking for myself. I grew bitter and remorseful about taking care of my body nutritionally. As time went on, I regained some confidence in the kitchen, but that wariness of skillet murder still lingers in the back of my mind to this day.

[suntiger745]

Draecember #3 Losing someone important

Dee cycled through the hatches to the dwelling and dropped her gear at her feet, putting her arms out. Around her, the other soldiers of her squad did the same as steam with an arcane shimmer to it blasted over their forms to sanitize them from the ever-present spores of Horenalaa. They had lived on the world for seventy years now without getting discovered by the Legion, which was hardly surprising given the toxic atmosphere. It supported a number of edible animals and plants, though they had to be carefully cleaned first, and the temperature was fairly mild with a long growing season and a short winter that rarely went below freezing. Still, you couldn't venture outside without a breathing mask and all dwellings had to be built with airlocks and sanitation rooms as well a air filters. It was almost as bad as traveling on the Genedar to Dee's mind, but only almost.

She left her gear with the soldiers to be cleaned more thoroughly, privileges of command, and went to fill out the reports from the scouting mission, the duties of command. Her skills as a weaponsmaster were less in demand compared to her skill and willingness to frequently go out in the spore-rich atmosphere of Horenalaa, so at the moment she commanded a scouting battalion, even if she still performed her duties as weaponsmaster during the downtime rotation of the scouts. It was unwise to let even the skilled people be exposed to the atmosphere for too long, so they rotated on a schedule of active duty, downtime, garrison duty and back to active duty every three months.

As she entered the apartment she shared with her lovers she found them waiting in the kitchen. She smiled and greeted them with a “Ah you're both here! It's good to see you again, I-” She stopped dead as she caught their mood. Both Tarem and Galeeri's eyes were haunted. Tarem had a drawn look to him like he'd been sick and lost weight and Galeeri had none of her usual energy about her. “What's wrong?” she asked. Tarem answered, his voice choked. “Loria. She's, she's gone.” Dee froze, her vision going white for a heartbeat. Then she ruthlessly quashed her emotions and walked to Tarem, taking his hands. “Tell me.” she said, her voice unnaturally calm. Galeeri came up beside them, putting a hand around each of their waists. “I- She found an air filter that needed changing and...” he choked up, unable to continue. Galeeri, eyes wet with tears that had welled up managed to continue in a shaky voice. “She wanted to help and decided she would change it. You know how she...” Galeeri swallowed hard, “how she was.”

Dee nodded. Her scrawny daughter, fairly small, often sickly but almost always cheerful, always trying to help as best she could. Galeeri continued. “It was in the eastern outer wall, at that L-shaped corner so she didn't realize it was an outer wall and didn't put on a mask.” She could picture it before her, Loria running to the storage room and climbing the ladder to the filter boxes, taking the tools on the way out and then briskly walking back to the wall where she had found the clogged filter, purple pigtails bobbing. There weren't too many things she was allowed to help with yet, so she had eagerly jumped on the things she could do. “She apologized for it.” Tarem said in a choked voice. Galeeri clutched them both harder as Dee turned her attention to the priest. He swallowed and met Dee's eyes, tears trickling down his gaunt cheeks. “I went looking for her when, when she was late for the midday meal. I, I found her in the corridor a dozen meters from the filter opening, coughing blood.” He grabbed both her and Galeeri tight, putting his face against Dee's neck, the bony plates of his forehead resting against her jaw. “She saw me and... and said... 'I'm sorry dad, I forgot the mask'. I tried to heal her, but I was too late, she just coughed up more blood. If- if only I had gone looking earlier...” Tarem started crying quietly against Dee's neck, unable to speak. “It wasn't your fault.” Galeeri and Dee said almost in unison but he didn't respond.

Galeeri turned her face to Dee, one hand stroking Tarem's shoulder. “He almost killed himself trying to heal her. Me and Rokan had to drag him away from her or he would have drained himself to the point of death.” “She had managed to put in the new filter before she... before the spores...” Galeeri choked up, unable to continue. “Where is Tuuria? Does she know?” Dee asked, voice still calm. “She knows.” Galeeri replied, managing to find her voice after swallowing hard a few times. “She's with her best friend and my sister at the moment. Said she couldn't bear coming home quite yet.” Dee nodded. Tarem was the father of both the girls, with herself being Loria's mother and Galeeri being Tuuria's. The latter was in her late adolescent years, studying herbalism and alchemy along with the usual arcane basics. She was quite fond of her little sister and there hadn't been much conflict between them, except for a period where Loria was four years old and hero-worshiped her older sister, trying to following her everywhere. Tuuria had grown quite tired of it after a while, but they managed to distract Loria with other things to do and eventually she became much less fixated on Tuuria and whatever she was doing. Galeeri mothered both girls equally between her work as an artificer and Dee also treated both girls like they were hers, teaching them about Horenalaa, and also answering questions about Argus and other planets. She knew Tuuria had a bit of hero worship for her, even if she didn't have any desire to be a warrior or vindicator herself.

Dee realized her mind was wandering and centered her attention again. “When did this happen?” she asked them. “Yesterday.” Galeeri replied, as Tarem moved his head back and wiped his eyes. She stood for a moment, thinking, then turned to her lovers. “I'd like to be alone for a bit. Maybe you can go and check in on Tuuria.” “Are you sure?” Galeeri said with a worried frown. Dee merely nodded in reply and gave her a one-armed hug. Tarem took a deep, shaky breath and wiped his eyes again. He knew how she preferred to mourn and even being a wreck himself gave her the space she needed. “It will be fine, Galeeri. We, we will return tonight.” he said. Then to Dee. “Her memory crystal is in the vault on the Genedar.” Dee nodded again and gave them both another hug before they walked out of the apartment.

She waited a few minutes after the two had left before she took a deep breath and walked into the living room. There was the crystal cluster attuned to playing music which Loria had loved. They had managed to convince her to listen with the hearing cups on instead of blasting the music so everyone could hear it. It worked until Loria got excited enough to sing along. She touched the cluster with a faint smile, tears welling up in her eyes. She walked into Loria's room, memories playing in her head. The summer fever when she was three and almost died, the worried faces of her sister and parents around the bed, Tarem healing her as best he could. The drawing of a talbuk that had won her a prize at the daycare, framed over the table she insisted was her studying desk. There was a book on it, showing various crystal constructions and she recognized it as the artificer book Galeeri had given her for her birthday last year. Dee moved to the bed and sat down on it, taking up the stuffed elekk that had been her daughter's constant companion, the trunk discolored from where she had sucked and drooled on it as a baby. Dee clutched it to her chest, inhaling its smell. It still smelled of her daughter. She let the tears fall, blinking and staring at nothing as she let memory after memory play out in her head.

Several hours later, late in the evening, Dee'atal stalked up to the prophet's quarters near the Genedar, the huge ship towering over the dwellings they had built, a network of transparent or semi-transparent tunnels connecting most of them. “Open the door!” she commanded and the Hands of Velen hurried to obey. Technically they were supposed to stop her and ask for her business, but she had trained both of them as recruits two and three centuries earlier respectively, and she had been Loton's commander twice in battles against the Legion. They obeyed, instinctively and probably unconsciously hunkering down a bit in the face of her obvious anger. She marched into Velen's suite of rooms, finding the prophet with two of his caretakers, Talaan and her granddaughter Kaali. “Grandmother? What are you doing here?” Kaali asked with some surprise. Dee ignored her, going straight up to Velen as he rose to his feet. “Why the fuck are we still on this planet!?” she demanded. “I know we have lost scouts and soldiers to this spore-infested shithole, but that's to be expected. We sign up for the dangerous shit.” She faced the prophet, hands on her hips and glaring at him. “I just checked though, and we have lost 182 children between infants and fifteen to these fucking spores alone!” “I know.” came the calm reply, though his voice was tinged with sadness. “Then my question stands! Why the fuck are we still on this planet!?” she shouted, hands clenching into fists before her. Velen sighed. “I am not certain of the exact reason, only that we must remain until the meteorite comes.” She punched him square in the face. He saw the blow coming and didn't avoid it, just took it on the cheek, staggering to the side from the force. “Grandma! What are you doing?!” Kaali exclaimed as both she and Talaan moved in to restrain her, though there was uncertainty in their faces. “Is your fucking visions worth almost two-hundred of our children dying!?” Dee demanded, her vision tinged with red at the edges. Talaan put a hand on her shoulder to pull her back and she elbowed him in the stomach, then turned into him and leaned forward, pulling him over her with a hip throw. She put a hoof on his neck and Kaali stopped dead, eyes darting between Dee, Velen and Talaan. She didn't crush his neck, but put enough pressure on it to warn him not to try anything stupid, like moving.

Velen glanced down at Talaan, and satisfied that he wasn't injured looked Dee square in the eyes. “So my visions say. I pray to the Light that they are correct.” Dee debated if she should punch him again, but just growled in frustration and turned away. “Your can stuff your visions where the sun doesn't shine, Velen. I'm going to go start the evacuation procedures.” she said in a hard voice. “You can't do that!” Kaali protested as she reached down a hand to help Talaan up. “Watch me.” Dee snapped back. She was just about to exit the room when Velen started coughing. Wet, racking coughs that shook his whole body, making him lean forward as blood trickled from his mouth. He stood up, wiping blood from his lips. Dee stopped dead. “What... How long?” she demanded, in a hard voice but with a different tone. Now it was her granddaughter who glared at her. “When he was 'meditating' for several months four years ago. He made an expedition to what we named Kaleed valley.” Kaali said as she handed Velen a piece of cloth as Talaan fetched a cup of water. Dee cast her mind back. It wasn't the first time Velen had sequestered himself for meditation for months on end. Only this time it hadn't been meditation. She suddenly wondered how many of the other times the prophet had done something other than meditating. “That was... six months.” she said. “You were outside for that long?” Velen nodded. “I had to find the place in my vision. It is imperative. Unfortunately, our filters didn't quite hold up for the whole duration and I became sick.” “You're not sick and you know it!” Kaali snapped at him and then turned to Dee with another heated glare. “He's dying! Only his connection to the Light keeps him alive, but even so he slowly gets worse.”

Dee looked at the prophet, not really seeing him as he took the cup from Talaan with a murmur of thanks. Her mind was racing. It was after that meditation that the order to establish an outpost in Kaleed Valley had been ordered. “Kaleed Valley is where this meteorite will land.” she said, looking at Velen. He nodded. “But if it doesn't come soon enough, both you and more of our children will die.” It was a flat statement, not a question. The prophet nodded again. “That's all kinds of fucked up.” Kaali and Talaan gave her another glare, but Velen smiled slightly before taking another sip of water, swallowing instead of cleaning his mouth out this time. “Go home, Dee'atal. Your family needs you, and you need them. Pray to the Light that the meteorite comes soon.” he said, then sat down a hint of weariness in his posture.

Tarem and Galeeri were waiting for her when she came back, giving her worried looks. “Where did you go? We were about to send search parties after you.” Galeeri said, giving her a hug and a kiss. “I went to visit the vault with the memory crystals.” Dee said, going over and giving Tarem a hug and kiss too. His face still looked gaunt, but he had regained a bit of his usual stocky, steady calm, at least outwardly. They went to bed soon after, cuddling close in an attempt to lessen the aching hole in their hearts where Loria used to be. Dee had hoped that her new knowledge about the meteorite and the reason they had to stay on Horenalaa would bring some solace, but it didn't. Loria's death still hurt and the knowledge that there might be more parents that would loose their children before they could leave hung like weights of lead on her mind. She was a soldier, she understood duty, but to loose children... and to a toxic atmosphere of all things. For the first time since she was eleven she wanted to wail to the sky that it wasn't fair.

Three months later the outpost at Kaleed Valley reported that a meteorite had crashed nearby. The remains, a small naaru vessel with the petrified remains of a naaru inside were retrieved. The only thing “alive” was a message crystal. The Legion had attacked the world of a people called the aldrachi. They were resisting successfully, but the demons were endless. They had sent the naaru with designs of weapons and fortifications that had worked well in the war, but also a plea for help. As soon as the remains were retrieved, Prophet Velen ordered the evacuation of the planet and for the first time the draenei abandoned a planet without being forced to flee from the Legion. When asked if the aldrachi had successfully repelled the Legion, if his vision had shown him if they were victorious or not, he shook his head sadly. “They lost. It took Sargeras himself to defeat them, but they lost.”

[geimei]

To Whom it May Concern, My best friend and I recently traveled to Japan, and we enjoyed much of our trip. However, on our last day of sightseeing we walked to Gion from Kumiyama, where my friend had high hopes of seeing a maiko or gaiko. We stayed fairly late, given that we had to walk back home, but had no success. My friend left quite sad. Her birthday just passed. I was wondering if you could help me get a signed picture of a maiko for her. - Arigato Gozimas, Cate.

Aww man, I can imagine that that must really suck. But I’m afraid that there is no way to get an autograph from a Maiko. Even if you met a Maiko in person, she probably wouldn’t hand out autographs, because they aren’t supposed to behave as if they are stars or celebrities.

You can order clearfiles of the Maiko from the Umeno Okiya of Kamishichiken, but you need to have a Japanese credit card and adress for that.

I’m really sorry, I can imagine that you two are really disappointed. I think this is a good opportunity to talk about some tourist-options if you want to see a Maiko or Geiko while in Kyoto and don’t want to rely on the luck of happening to walk across one walking to work.

If you should visit Kyoto in the future, I would recommend visisting the Gion Corner, where you can watch a Maiko perform and take a picture with her for a pretty cheap price. They also show performances of Bunraku, Ikebana and other traditional Japanese arts there.

Or visit the newly-established Maiko Theater in Miyagawacho, where you can buy different “packages” for different price points. The most expensive package is 110 USD and includes a dance performance, an explanation of what Maiko and Geiko do by a Maiko,appetizers and hors d'œuvres served by Maiko, all-you-can-drink alcohol served by Maiko (you can also opt for the slightly cheaper version with non-alcoholic drinks) and a commemorative photo and tenugui (dancing veil). The whole event goes fow two hours, from 8:30 to 10:30 in the evening.

The cheapest package goes from 12:30 to 1:30. It costs 80 USD for adults and 40 USD for children. It includes a dance performance, an explanation of maiko-san, bentô lunch & tea (not served by a Maiko though) and commemorative photo & Maiko Theater tenugui. You can get cheaper tickets if you buy them the day of the performance; then there is no bentô lunch and prices are dropped to 60 USD for adults and 20 USD for children.

If you have the money, you can also book a real ozashiki with Maiko and Geiko via the Tomikiku Ochaya in Gion Higashi, which offers a special “package” for first-time visitors. It includes a seasonal, 9-course-meal, a performance and drinking games - the whole package! But since it’s a regular ozashiki it’s really expensive - 500 USD or a small group minimum

If you visit during spring (April and May) one of Kyoto’s many Odori is also always worth a visit. The Kitano Odori of Kamishichiken is held from the 25th of March to the 7th pf April, the Kyo Odori of Miyagawacho is held from the 1st to the 20th of April, the Miyako Odori of Gion Kobu is held throughout the entire month of April and the Kamogawa Odori of Pontocho is held from the 1st to the 24th of May. All of them are held to honor the beauty o the cherry blossom and have a corresponding theme.

The most expensive tickets for the Miyako Odori are 4,600 Yen (38 Euros, about the same in USD) and include a tea ceremony, a commemoratie bowl you get to keep and first-class seats. You can also get just the first-class seats for 3,500 Yen (29,25 Euros) with reserved seating and second-class seats (no reserved seating) for 2,000 Yen (16,71 Euros). The prices for the other Odori are very similar, with only slight variation. Every Odori is performed 4 times a day. (The Miyako Odori is performed at the Shunjuza Theater this year due to renovations at the Gion Kobu Kaburenjo Theater. It will be performed from the 1st to the 21st of April (closed on the 10th and 17th) three times a day).

The tea ceremonies are pretty cramped, so people who go every year often skip it, but for first-timers it’s worth a try and a good opportunity to take pictures.

On one weekend in June the Miyako No Nigiwai (Gokagai), a joint performance of all five hanamachi, is held. Tickets for this are pretty expensive and the performance is considered to be much more exclusive and mainly for “connoisseurs” of the traditional arts.

In July, Kamishichiken, Miyagawacho and Gion Higashi also hold the Yukata-Kai, a performace during which all Maiko and Geiko are dressed in identical Yukata.

Throughout October, four hanamachi of Kyoto also hold a second, smaller Odori. Gion Kobu holds the Onshukai (October 1st - October 6th) Pontocho holds the Suimeikai (October 27th - October 30th), Kamishichiken holds the Kotubukai (October 8th - October 12th) and Miyagawacho holds the Mizuekai (October 9th - October 12th). All of these Odori are more expensive than the Miyako Odori and are more toned down and less “showy” than the spring Odori.

The last Odori of the year is the Gion Odori held by the Maiko and Geiko of Gion Higashi from the 1st to the 10th of November. It honors the beauty of the maple leaf and has an according theme. A lot of people who have watched all Odori say that the Gion Odori is very different and stands out, so it’s definitely worth watching!

From July to September Maiko and Geiko of Kamishichiken also host the Kamishichiken Beer Garden, where you can drink beer and chat with Maiko and Geiko of Kamishichiken dressed in infromal Yukata. It’s one of the cheapest ways to personally meet Geimaiko in Kyoto.

The Gion Matsuri is a big festival held from the 1st to the 24th of July. One part of it is the Hanagasa Junko Parade on the 24th, where Maiko of two rotating districts (Kamishichiken is not involved) are carried though the city on two big wooden floats and then perform a special dance at the Yasaka Shrine. This year Maiko of Miyagawacho will perform the Konchiki Odori and Maiko of Gion Kobu will perform the Suzume Odori. Maiko and Geiko of Gion Kobu also hold beer stands at the festival.

There are also a lot of different events that Maiko and Geiko of Kyoto participate in; here is a greatsummary by missmyloko. All of these events are very good opportunities for taking pictures, but especially Shin Aisatsu, Shigyoshiki, Hassaku and Kotohajime are extremely crowded (Seriously, extremely. Gion Kobu had to put up a fence so that the Maiko and Geiko could still get through the crowds.), so you have to be very early and if you’re claustrophic, it’s probably not for you. I personally wouldn’t really recommend going on a picture-hunt through Gion. First of all, Maiko and Geiko are incredibly busy and often don’t have time to stop for photographs. Also, tourists are more and more behaving like ruthless paparazzi and actually harass them, so especially in Gion Kobu Geimaiko (as it’s the most famous hanamachi of Japan and is basically a “symbol” of Geisha-culture) often try to avoid touristy sections of the district by walking through back-alleys or taking taxis, especially during tourist-seasons (mainly late March to May and November).

If you do really want to try and get a picture of or with a Maiko or Geiko that way, be respectful. Keep a respectful distance so you don’t scare them and respect their boundaries. Ask them if they have time for a quick picture, if they decline, be nice about them and let them leave, if they say yes, refrain from touching them or their clothes and just stand next to them at a respectdul distance. It’s ridiculous that this has to be repeated, but Maiko and Geiko have been harassed by tourists a lot in the past.

Another alternative is to visit one of the other hanamachi besides Gion Kobu and try to get a picture with a Geimaiko there. Miyagawacho and Pontocho are big districts, so the chance of meeting a Maiko or a Geiko is quite high, but they get much less attention from tourists because they are much less famous. Geimaiko there are more likely to stop for you, if you ask nicely, because they haven’t had as many bad experiences before and are in less of a hassle.

I’m sorry that it didn’t work out for you and your friend and hope that you two will get a second chance to visit Kyoto!

[twoscoopsofrecovery]

re·cov·er·y 
a return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.
 I wouldn't say I'm in recovery, but I also wouldn't say I'm fully in my ed or addiction at this point. I feel like I'm re entering recovery. But this time fully and honest, and I think that is why it is taking a little longer to surrender. When I do surrender I am doing It fully and completely. Two months back in treatment. Three months since I last wrote, so as assigned I'm writing again. An assignment I actually don't mind, I get to do what I love. A lot has happened. I've found myself kicked out of my parents house, yet again, jobless, broke, living with friends. Seems to be the norm. My mood has been extremely unstable and my behaviors are out of control. Well, sort of. I stopped purging. Since December 20th, when I finally came back to rosewood, I've only purged once. Which, is crazy because before I came in I was purging everything I ate. So major improvement there. Readmitting myself was this whole process. Due to health reasons it took longer then expected. My doctor found I had pancreatitis, which freaked me out to no end and back and motivated me to start eating a little bit before I even got back into treatment. Which, was insanely hard. My first two to three weeks back, I couldn't finish a single meal. It was humiliating to some extent, I felt completely incapable. With restricting, I haven't really been. There's this grey area in my brain where if I don't have the means to eat and if I don't have money, I don't have to eat. Which, was a bit of a problem maybe a week or two ago but I've seemed to improve with that one. So I guess my behaviors aren't out of control; I haven't purged, meal plan compliant, I don't binge, I don't use laxatives/diuretics/diet pills, I don't over exercise. Where does the problem stand then? Easy: my drinking. I'm in a constant debate with myself lately. Do I have an alcohol problem? A year ago I would've instinctively answered yes, I am an alcoholic. Today, well, I am not sure how to answer that question. I've drank a couple times now since being back. I'm supposed to be sober, everyone is supposed to be sober while in a program like this. My rational is: if I don't have a problem, I shouldn't have a problem staying sober for the duration of my stay at rosewood. But I find myself trying to sneak around the rules to drink. Is it a problem? I'm not too sure. When I drink I don't do so excessively, just enough to get decently drunk. Which, if you know me, you'd know its pretty easy for me because I basically have zero tolerance. So, again, I ask, where is the problem? The problem that I am encountering is not the actual alcohol it's self, or any drugs, or anything tangible for that matter. I do not think I am physically addicted to any substance currently as it stands. What I am addicted to, is escaping. And that's where the problem lays. I can't handle my reality, I want to get plastered, and forget about the shit show I call my life. I'm still terribly depressed and it keeps coming and going in waves and I can't really take it anymore. My life is currently rotating between, I want to kill myself and I'm writing a suicide note, to, my life is amazing and I love everyone so much and I'm so grateful for what I do have and people are inherently good. Which, is exhausting. A wave of sadness hit me the other day. Partially due to concerns, partially because of no reason. The other night I spent most of the evening with my boyfriend. I almost went into a flash back and started disassociating but was able to pull myself out of it before it had happened. He was extremely supportive and understanding, which was extremely comforting while I was in a more vulnerable place. When I got back to my friends place that I'm staying at, I was texting him, and something had come up. I've found myself scared to think about what things would be like with out him. Which, is insane because I haven't thought that about someone since my ex who I dated for almost two years. I don't find myself pushing him away, if anything I'm scared because I know I'm becoming attached, and commitment is scary, but I want it so badly. So, relationship wise, I'm extremely happy with where it's going. I'm very grateful I met someone who gets me and is there for me. It's going on the right direction, I'm in love, I'm happy, communication is there, things are good. So abnormal for me, but hey I'll take it. It's good and exciting. But, i miss my mom. My sisters, my brother. I know I have family, they're there, just not there right now. I have other family, family of choice vs. family of origin. I have people around me that help me out and are there for me. But I still miss them. So much. Before I readmitted me and my mom had probably the best mother daughter relationship I could of ever asked for. We had very real conversations about life; the good the bad, the nitty gritty details of addictions and my eating disorder. My mom confided in me and I the same. I miss my mother terribly. I miss my sisters and their beautiful sun-filled smiles. Sophia and her innocence. Audrey, who finally felt comfortable enough telling me her deep 5th grade coming of age secrets. Leo, who was just beginning to trust in me once more. I miss them. I miss them so much it hurts and I try not to think of it. So I won't talk about it anymore. I guess over all everything has improved and become more complicated. Still Canadian though, that's a major stress for me. But, I think I have figured out a way around it. I can get an F-1 visa, which is a student visa. Of course I'd have to take out loans to be able to go to school, and probably be in debt for the rest of my life, and after I'm done with school my visa is up and I cannot switch visas to something more permanent. So, it would just be delaying the process of going back to Canada. Which, at this point, I don't mind too much. Who knows where I'll be in four years. Four years ago I definitely didn't think I'd be back in treatment for a second time. Nor did I think I'd be alive at 20. At 16 I thought by time I was 18 I'd be dead. And "If I make it to twenty I'll have dentures" which didn't exactly happen. So yeah, maybe things have improved. I don't have much to complain about right now. Well, I have tons to complain about, I'm just choosing not to, because I'm not so sure how that'd serve me at this point. Wallowing in my own self pity doesn't help much anymore. I realize I need to get up, and move forward. I need to take action. It is my life and I do want it to be better then it has been. Ive recently reconnected with an old friend. I'm extremely grateful for her, as she has been there through the most depressive points in my life, and still has stuck by. She is family, and I love her dearly. Talking to her more recently I've realized how much I have changed, although I feel as though I haven't. We used to be a little group, me, her, my ex who is her step brother, her best friend, and her boyfriend who is now her husband. We used to do everything together. Before I had initially started treatment I lived with her because, well, my parents kicked me out. She had taken me in and for about two months we were this happy little family, until my suicide attempt. Which I regret so terribly and hate myself for putting them all through. When I was 18 I had an episode where I slit my wrists and hoped to die. Instead, my ex came into the bathroom where I was attempting to do so, and then a few minutes later, the rest of everyone. They rushed me to the ER and I was admitted to the psych hospital about twelve hours later, where I had never felt so alone. I spent five days in the hospital and then went to reasons inpatient for my ed because like my friend had said "be honest about your eating disorder". They had stayed with me while I was in the ER and the entire time she had been saying to be honest. And honestly if I didn't listen to her I probably never would have gone to treatment. So ash, if you're reading this, thank you. Thank you so much for everything you've ever done for me. I love you and you're a huge part of why I ever decided to change and learn to live. My parents always told me growing up that friends never last and family is forever. I'm upset, I'm hurt, I'm angry. Where the fuck are my parents now? If family is forever where are they? All I have is friends at this point. Which, again, I am so insanely grateful for. I don't know what I would be doing with out any of you. The people I choose to surround myself around are the people who actually stick around. Who knew, if you surround yourself by good people, good things happen. In my relapse this last time around, someone had asked me why I was killing myself over making my parents happy. At that time I wasn't exactly too sure what they meant and why they would say something like that. I was upset and hurt by it. But looking back just three months I completely understand that statement. Unfortunately, if I want to recover and live my life, I have to be separated from my parents. I love them so much. I love them to the moon and back. I have so much respect for them and would never do anything to hurt them. I think they are amazing people, but right now as it stands I have to love them from afar. And I'm coming to a place of acceptance with this. I think this is manageable at the point. As far as my visa goes, I've decided to get my F1. A student visa. I'll take out a loan and pay for school. I'll probably be in debt for the rest of my life but at this point, I do not care. All I'm doing is going to school for cosmetology and honestly, that's not that much money. So I need to finish high school. Which is on my list of things to do. This week I'm going to figure out how/where to go to get my transcripts. Or if I'm just going to take my GED. Also this week I'm going to meet up with a friend on Sunday and see if I can get a job anywhere. I'm excited honestly things feel like they're moving forward finally. And that's because of me. Because I finally decided to stop crying and wallowing in my self pity and actually get up and do something. The good news is, everyone else's voice is out of my head. I'm a lot more clear on what to do and how to do it.

[twocoursemeal-blog]

TCM Eats: Lulu’s

Lulu’s (Allston)

In our continuing series of “Places We Try Off The Cuff Because Our Previous Choice Didn’t Work Out But End Up Being Delicious Anyway” we bring you… Lulu’s! Lulu’s is an Allston staple that provides consistently solid brunch and a consistently fantastic beer list. Should you go? Yes, of course! But why? That’s what the review is for.

We ate:

Protein Packed Omelette

Pancakes with Bacon

Cajun Tots

We drank:

Mimosa

Stoutella - Knee Deep Brewing

Angela’s Thoughts

For all my years spent in Allston, I’d never been to Lulu’s. When I wanted brunch, I’d go to @Union; when I wanted a bar, I’d go to Harry’s. Recently when we were looking for brunch on a laid-back, rainy Memorial Day, we went to @Union first… but the line was ridiculously long. We trudged through Allston, soggy and disappointed, until one of our brunch companions recommended Lulu’s. As we rounded the corner, we noticed another line; there was a crowd of people waiting at the door 10 minutes before Lulu’s opened. Fortunately, Lulu’s has a large dining room, so we joined them. If waiting in the rain outside a brunch restaurant isn’t a clear endorsement, I don’t know what is.

After the place opened, we were quickly seated and given menus. Lulu’s has a fantastic beer list, as well as the normal brunch cocktails one would expect. Though the tap list was enticing, I couldn’t quite convince myself to have a beer at 11:30AM on a Monday -- I had a mimosa instead. It was a good sized serving, about half of a large wine glass, garnished with an orange wedge. The flavor of the orange juice they used wasn’t exciting, but it didn’t overwhelm the amount of champagne. It was nicely balanced, overall.

The four of us split an order of Cajun tots to start. The presentation was so cute; beautiful, golden brown tots dusted with seasoning in a silver bucket, with a side of garlic mayonnaise. As some of you more frequent readers may know, I am not a fan of mayo, so I cannot comment on how well it paired with the potatoes. The tots themselves were fantastic, however. They were nicely cooked, and not overwhelmingly greasy. The light coating of Cajun seasoning added a nice, lightly spicy flavor, without tasting oversalted. I had a few bites of the homefries that came with Matt’s meal as well, but the tots clearly won the Lulu’s potato showdown.

I came to brunch really craving pancakes, and Lulu’s offers a chef’s choice pancake that rotates. I asked our server what the “Chef’s Pancakes” were for the day -- initially, he told me that they were orange ricotta (which sounded AMAZING), but he corrected himself later, informing me that they were s’mores (which sounded… less amazing). As I resigned myself to order something else, he told me that they could just make me plain buttermilk pancakes, and I jumped at the opportunity, adding a side of bacon.

I’m a boring person who eats pancakes without syrup; I’d like to think that makes me a better judge of the flavor balance and true merits of a pancake recipe, but take that with a grain of salt. With that said, I thought the pancakes at Lulu’s were excellent. They were large, and a bit thin, but still managed to be fluffy. They had a light sweetness to them, and felt complete, even with just a swipe of butter. I’d absolutely go back in the hopes that I could try a Chef’s special flavor that I didn’t think would be too cloying or overwhelming. Hell, I’d even go back for the plain ones!

Lulu’s ended up being another one of those “Why haven’t I been here yet?!” experiences. It opened 3 years ago and has an amazing beer list, if nothing else; I have no excuse. I see quite a few return trips to Lulu’s in my future, and I’m already looking forward to them!

Matt’s Thoughts

I’ve been to Lulu’s a few times now, and every time it’s impressed me with not just its brunch offerings (though slightly limited) but also its phenomenal beer selection. When we visited, there was something very odd going on - the line to the door had bifurcated. We walked up and balked. What do we do? Choose the shorter line, which may have just spawned as a result of a misunderstanding, but then grew out of control, or the longer line, which would, of course, mean a longer wait? We chose the shorter one. In an uneventful twist, the lines just ended up merging and we got in early enough to grab a table right off.

After an important ceremonial discussion about whether or not to get a beer with brunch, we all (well, two of us) ordered beer. Sometimes, you’ll walk into a place that has an extensive beer list, and feel like you’re speaking two different languages (looking at you, Lord Hobo). Sometimes, you walk into a place and feel like you don’t even need to say anything at all. Lulu’s is one of those places for me. Their carefully curated and cared-for beer selection shines through in their enticing descriptions, and I always find myself wishing I had enough money, and no responsibilities so that I could have the four or five I’m always trying to decide between.

This time, I went with the “Stoutella” by Knee Deep Brewing. I’d had Rogue’s Hazelnut Brown before, but I wasn’t prepared for how much hazelnut flavor was in this one. I don’t think I’d ever had a beer quite like it before. The Stoutella’s roasted nuttiness understandingly pairs well and compliments the same profile you get from the high lovibond malt used, and it all came together in harmony. Though I’m not sad to have ordered it, I think this would have really shined as a dessert beer paired with something mild like a yellow cake or some ice cream.

As a table, we made the key strategic decision to split a basket of Cajun tater tots and with garlic mayo. I’ve had Lulu’s tots before. I will have them again. They are delicious. They are the platonic ideal of tater tots. Golden, crisp, and oily on the outside, delicious potato on the inside. With Cajun seasoning. Paired with a big dunk in Lulu’s garlic mayo and you don’t need much else. I’m glad we got them, even though the basket of tots was a bit on the small side. A little more of a portion, and I think they’d be a must-buy for you potato lovers out there (who doesn’t love potatoes in some form?)

I went with the Protein Packed Omelette, which I have had before. Call me a sucker for some linguiça and you wouldn’t be wrong (that is one delicious sausage). I guess it comes with smoked bacon and swiss as well. In an omelette, the linguiça shines, providing a welcome meaty chew against the slightly tougher egg curds in Lulu’s diner-style offering. The omelette itself was cooked well (though a bit oily) and very large. I chose to go light on the Swiss, since I find too much of the stuff tends to overwhelm all other textures in the dish.

For whatever reason, I’m never too huge on Lulu’s homefries, which is odd. I love homefries. Maybe these ones are just a little too bland? It’s tough to put my finger on. I enjoy them, certainly, but don’t rave about them. Maybe they’ve lost too much of the original potato flavor, somehow? I hope I figure this one out before I die.

Said it before, and I’ll say it again - Lulu’s is great. Their brunch is tasty, their beer selection is fantastic, and every time I go I get a new beer that I haven’t had before but end up liking a lot. It’s a great place to go with a group, or for a date. Just do your best to get at least one beer.

Overall:

Lulu’s was worth waiting in the rain on a holiday weekend; what else can we say? Go for the beer, stay for the brunch! Then drink more beer. It’s a nice, lively spot with good service and a great space. If you’re looking for a hot spot in Allston, we’d recommend that you give Lulu’s a try, be it for food or a tasty beverage.

We give Lulu’s 4 delectable Cajun tots out of 5.

[kadobeclothing]

A Chat With Stella – WWD

“We’re all in this together” — a universal mantra of the coronavirus era. Sometimes that commonality is comforting in its more superficial aspects. Last week, when uncooperative English-country cell service put the kibosh on a no-visuals conversation with Stella McCartney, her p.r. went swiftly to un-planned B: Zoom. We settled in to chat equally undone, granted, with Stella flaunting a much better top, a sweatshirt from her collaboration with “We Are the Weather” author Jonathan Safran Foer. (Full disclosure: Before joining, I switched out of my Clorox-spotted, Bronx County DA sweatshirt, an artifact of a younger brother’s stint on my couch 25 years ago.)

While some people embrace the primp-up-at-home approach to quarantine, that’s not Stella’s thing. “I put makeup on for the first time in a month last week, when I had to do something,” she offers. As with most conversations these days with someone you haven’t spoken with recently, ours starts with “How are you coping?”

“I couldn’t be luckier,” Stella says, ever self-aware. “I’ve got a little bit of help here, which is a massive blessing. I can’t complain.” Like millions of others, she is working through 24-hour household-running, juggling work, meals and homeschooling of her four kids, ages 15 to nine. Her day starts with Stella McCartney brand meetings — more frequent and of broader scope than before lockdown. While the kids are old enough that interruptions aren’t an issue, she goes into “tough-love” mode when it comes to school. Last week, English schools were still on Easter break, so she was anticipating readjustment this week. “They all go to different schools and each school has handled it in a different way. Some are more tech savvy than others,” she says.

As for cooking, Stella is top chef, but lately, she’s getting help. Because her work day starts early, she tries to think through each day’s meals the night before. But on this morning, she woke up to a surprise. “My daughter Bailey had already cooked tomato soup. I have to say, it was delicious,” she boasts. “It’s great, they’re getting into [cooking], I mean, they’re making fun of me because it’s, like, soup every day. I’m such a waste-not, want-not type, it’s at the core of everything in the brand and in my personality. Literally, I’m using everything. It’s great. That’s how I was brought up.” To our primary purpose: a check-in on Stella’s business in the age of COVID-19, and what this particular Earth Day represents to her. I learned after we spoke that even from quarantine, she’s found a way to celebrate its spirit. Stella worked with Ocean Outdoor, the digital advertising company, to host a major screen takeover at London’s Piccadilly Circus. It launched on Tuesday and runs through Sunday at midnight, rotating a series of upbeat messages including “Mother Earth has started healing” and, captioning a photo of the Earth painted on Amber Valletta’s face, “For us, every day is Earth Day.”

Amber Valletta as Mother Earth in Stella McCartney’s Earth Day screen takeover in Piccadilly Circus, on display through April 26.  Courtesy Photo

WWD: I just saw Barry Diller on “Squawk Box” [on April 16]. He was not optimistic. Stella McCartney:  Well, f–king welcome to Stella McCartney, Bridget Foley.

WWD: Thank you. How are you feeling? S.M.: I am very much split. I’m split between my personal emotions, and then obviously, I have a business to run. I’m living two lives right now. I’m the mother of four, I’m a wife. I’m cooking three meals a day and I’m loving it. I’m with my babies, and blessed to be in nature and not in the city. I’ve got my horse. So I’m fine in my solitude. Then, obviously, there is a deep sadness for all of the lives that are lost and for what people are going through. I have a huge respect for the people on the front line here in England in the NHS and all of the emergency workers. That reality, the mindfulness of what other people are going through, and that we’re all connected in all of the same thoughts, which is a really heavy realization, not to be lightly dismissed. I am very aware of that. Then, there’s the side to me that employs hundreds and hundreds of people globally. Obviously, we are affected as a business, like every other business right now. I’m always wanting the business to do well because of what we stand for as much as anything, and also because I’m a businesswoman. But right now you think, “Wow, this is the first time we are all connected in so many ways.” That’s the important thing that sits on my mind. WWD: It’s odd that that connection comes through isolation. S.M.: Yes. I have a large family network so I’m not isolated that much on my own. The first couple of weeks were really interesting for me on a working level because in our industry, we work with teams, and we feed off each other creatively. I was trying to settle into working via device and using my teams in a different way. [Now] all of us are feeling connected. I’m more connected with teams globally than usual — “let’s meet with China; let’s meet with Japan,” bigger meetings with teams. I’ve enjoyed that and I want to carry through. One of the big questions here is how does this impact our lives going forward, when things get back to whatever the new normal will be. I’m looking to my team a lot, also. Holistically, making sure my teams are OK mentally and emotionally. And that, normally, I don’t have time to do; [usually] I’m just getting involved in my day-to-day. But now I’m like OK, we need to have calls every week just to check in on everyone and see how everyone is feeling. I worry about people, just how they’re doing. My teams in Italy, they’re not allowed out, they’re allowed out to go food shopping and that’s it….I’m mindful of that, like how are you all doing emotionally and mentally because that’s hardcore, going out or not going out and looking out and seeing nothing there. That’s quite hard hitting. I’m not sure if any of us really know how that will affect us all. WWD: Nuts and bolts, I’m sure the specifics vary from region to region. S.M.: Yes. there’s one side that’s creative and there’s one side that’s very, very much responding to different regions and who is quarantined, who’s not. Obviously, we’re massively based in Italy, so it’s been a big conversation about what we can make, what we can’t make, what we can have access to. When you do work in a sustainable way, you have to work far in advance to be sustainable. I develop the majority of my fabrics far in advance, and I have such a deep commitment to my suppliers and to where we’re growing the yarn and the process and the entire circle-ness of it all. I try to remain respectful and loyal to X amount of [suppliers] because I know they’re my reliable source points. WWD: Quarantining with family is very different from quarantining alone. But it still puts stress on work. S.M.: I grew up in a creative household. And creatively, it was pretty much isolation. When The Beatles broke up we moved to a farm in Scotland, completely isolated. My mom and dad did an album; my dad did an album of McCartney, and I think it was his best work. It has been a massive impact on my life, that isolation, on how I think and how I live my life through my business, through my family, through my friendships. The majority of my friends are artists or work in the creative fields, and the majority of them work in isolation; it’s just what they do. Name-dropping, I checked in with David Hockney, and he said, “I’m painting more than ever.” The birth [of] creation is a very insular moment. And then [creatives] go into a teamwork frame, if at all. So my dad will write an album on his own. When he has that creative birth, he will then take it to the next step, engineering it, producing it, art-working it, and ultimately it goes on tour in front of hundreds of thousands of people. So it’s sort of this journey….Our industry goes very quickly away from isolation in the creative sense and goes into teamwork. It becomes a production line, if you like. WWD: It sounds as if you prefer a longer solitary creative process. S.M.: I seem to be busier than ever because I’m doing more and more calls. This is taking me away from my creative process and isolation, so I’m trying to find a balance, which is at the core of everything we do at Stella McCartney. Maybe the answer to all of this is trying to find the balance. WWD: Other designers have talked to me about the creative process being teamwork. It sounds as if your process still starts singularly. S.M.: My name is on the door of the brand, so everything that it stands for has come from me at some stage in my thinking, from my belief systems and my creativity. And then the team around me, we all feed off each other and we all create from that starting point. In our industry we all complain about not having time. So I want to be respectful of that right now and [think of] how can we find that balance between teamwork and creating with your team and bouncing off of each other and all that stuff. Even before all of this happened, I was already approaching spring like this. I was like, OK, how can we not buy new fabric for spring? How can we look at everything that we [have already]? I’ve done that for years. It’s the way that I work; it’s the way my mind works. What have we got in stock, how can we repurpose it? How can we give it a re-life or a rebirth? We did all the upcycling two seasons ago on the runway. How can we look at what’s in a warehouse somewhere? So it’s a really interesting moment for our brand.

Vegan leather — it’s not just for the Falabella bag. This coat is from fall 2020.  Giovanni Giannoni/WWD

WWD: What does your sweatshirt say? S.M.: It says We Are the Weather. It’s my Jonathan Safran Foer collaboration. We Are the Weather — it’s very apt. It feels like most of what I’ve done seems apt right now. It seems like everything I’ve done in my career seems to be quite apt right now. WWD: To that point, and going back to what you said a moment ago, do you think you’re a bit ahead of other brands fabric-wise? S.M.: My viscose comes from sustainable managed forests. It took me three years to [develop it]. So once I’ve taken that long and it’s the only source I have, I then commit to it. I [now] have had to look at all the business, which I do anyway, but it’s more magnified. Then that goes into, can we have access to

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our e-commerce if [production] is all in Italy, and da da da. And what markets are opening up more than others, or which ones are going into isolation or coming out of isolation. We’re all doing the same thing I’m sure. WWD: What differences do you find among the various global markets? S.M.: Every single market is reacting differently. But what people are buying is what would be expected, much more home pieces, much more classics. We’re so lucky in that we have real iconic, timeless, staple pieces — the Falabella bag, for example, the Elyse shoe. It’s not dissimilar to what I’m sure a lot of brands are finding. Hopefully people will lean toward a more mindful culture now. To be a more conscious consumer more than ever, I hope, starts to have some kind of resonance with people. And I think that that’s what we represent in the industry. WWD: It surprises me that people are shopping at all for clothes or accessories. You’re finding that people are shopping? S.M.: They’re not shopping as much. I think the whole reality of this is buy less, care more. That’s the highlight for me, but it has always been the case. As I say, before when I was looking at doing spring, I was already thinking, why do we offer so much product? Waste is a big, big, big issue in our industry, and I am a massive fan of trying to reduce waste or do better with the waste that exists. I think we probably waste the least out of all the brands, we’re so mindful and careful. The challenge for me to my teams is how can we be better at our production and how can we be much more efficient. So we’re pretty on it. I think that now more than ever is the time to look at our industry and say, OK, the truck loads of fast fashion that are incinerated or buried. That’s $100 billion worth of waste a year in fibers, in resourcing. It’s crazy. There is just so much we don’t need. And I agree, I don’t think anyone needs to buy anything ever again. It’s how you repurpose. This is what I think all the time; this is not anything new for me. That’s why I’m [looking] to the classics that I’ve created, because they’re timeless. It’s how I approach the birth of design — by starting with, how can I create something that lasts somebody a lifetime, and then another lifetime after that? How can I design something that is so not relying on a trend so that it can be recycled or repurposed or resold or rented? How can I encourage all of that? I am so open-minded to all of that.

Sustainably sourced viscose is a Stella McCartney staple. This dress is from fall 2020.  Giovanni Giannoni/WWD

WWD: When you have that attitude about less is more and less is better, how do you keep on a growth path? S.M.: There’s real growth. We’re not a massive, massive brand. Look, there’s always going to be brands, there’s always going to be products, you’re always going to want a mug for your cup of tea, and when your mug breaks, you’re going to buy another one, or you’re going to get bored of that mug and you’re going to go, “I want a new mug; I deserve a new mug.” That’s OK. It’s allowed, we’re allowed to consume. What we need to do is consume in a better way. And what companies have to do for the customer is make better and source better and be better brands. We are really f–king good at that at Stella McCartney. That’s a nice mug, Bridget. You’re allowed to buy yourself a new one in a week. WWD: Thank you. From a craftsperson in Ireland. S.M.: Exactly! Look, my way of thinking has always been, it’s allowed. You’re allowed to buy s–t, right? No one is going to stop buying s–t, but people are going to, I hope, buy more locally now, they are going to buy better, they are going to buy more online. That will reduce a lot of carbon in the air. For me, I’ve always had this really difficult dilemma where it’s like, if I do things mindfully and ethically and environmentally, [does] that mean I’m not allowed to have a successful business? But I believe now more than ever that my business model should be more people’s business model. When everyone is doing things [mindfully] then fine, then we can have a non-growth conversation. But right now I need to set an example, I need to show people that you can have a healthy business, you can employ people, you can employ mills in Italy, you can work with farmers all over the world. You can create commerce in a more conscious way. WWD: During these massive global quarantines, we’re seeing cleaner air and cleaner water; it’s been measured. But it has taken a total shut down and total isolation. So does that make you optimistic or pessimistic? S.M.: I’ve been really optimistic that we’ve seen a dramatic reduction in a matter of weeks. Pollution — you could see the results really quickly. Obviously I never envisaged a shut down so dramatically. WWD: No one did. S.M.: More than ever now, we need to have these conversations, and we have to learn. [Otherwise] I think it is such a disservice to the suffering. I feel like every single person that has lost their life or lost a loved one from COVID-19, that cost and pain and suffering needs to see something good come of it. If the people in power can respect those lives lost with some kind of environmental respect and management and policymaking, then I feel like it’s not in vain. People have got to stop and ask, “What was the cost, and what can we do in a positive way [to honor] the pain that people have felt?” WWD: Yet some public health protocols seem at odds with environmental protocols. We’re all washing our hands constantly, so we’re using more water than ever. Also, the return to single-use items. In New York State, the plastic-bag ban went into effect only a while ago, and it’s now suspended. And before it closed, Starbucks stopped accepting customers’ containers, at least temporarily. S.M.: The single-use plastics — that’s where tech will come in. I’ve been looking for many, many years at things like that. We’ve been looking at a company making single-use items that are completely biodegradable. It’s now looking at single-purpose spoons and cutlery, because obviously, the world wants disposable spoons and cutlery. Look, water. We’ve done so many things over the years at Stella, just simple things like clever care such as a whole campaign around not dry-cleaning, not washing your clothes so much, turn your washing machine down, doing it less frequently. The amount of water we use just in the fashion industry — the facts are ridiculous. So outside of washing hands, there are ways to reduce water consumption, many, many ways. And that’s just everyday practice in pretty much every industry. WWD: Do you see a dichotomy between the environment and the public health issue or do you think ultimately they come together in the big picture? S.M.: Ultimately, they come together in the big picture. Ultimately, we’ve got to have some kind of respect for animals on the planet and we’ve got to stop the way in which we farm them and kill them and eat them because it’s a hotbed for disease. It’s not an industry that is healthy or pretty. I’m not isolating out a nation because I think the entire globe is guilty of how they farm and kill and manufacture animals. We have seen many diseases come of that. So, you know, it ain’t gonna go away until somebody looks at that predominantly. They are all connected. And I think it’s so interesting that it’s the conversation nobody is really having. WWD: Why not? S.M.: Because people don’t feel good about the fact that they kill billions of animals a year. There is a guilt attached to it. They don’t feel proud of it so they don’t want to talk about it. They know it’s wrong, and it’s hard to face that. We are all part of it. Well, I’m not part of it. But the majority of the planet is part of that conversation, and responsible. Again, I’ll be the glass half-full type where I say, “you don’t have to give it up completely if you can’t, but just reduce it and just buy it better.” Draw a line in how you consume. Set yourself goals, set yourself parameters that are better. Because it comes down to individuals. The individual consumption and demand will dictate what the ceo’s and the businesses invest in, what they buy into. I’ve been working on my mom’s vegetarian food [company] since she passed away 22 years ago on Friday. She started it, what, 30, 40 years ago? She started a vegetarian, alternative food brand, and it is growing year on year. And I have never seen more competitors in a most exciting way. My mom would be so happy. She probably would have closed the business, seeing how many vegetarian alternative competitors there are now. That’s not because KFC loves chickens. It’s because they see that the consumer wants a vegan KFC. The biggest burger selling at Burger King right now is the Impossible Burger. This is due to customer change. This is the reaction to hopefully the new way of life.

Sophisticated fake fur from fall 2019. “I’ve got my own little supply network,” McCartney says.  Giovanni Giannoni/WWD

WWD: Do you oversee your mother’s company? S.M.: Well, the whole family does. We create the products, we create the range, I do the packaging, we look at the marketing. It’s a family brand.. WWD: That’s amazing. How long has it been? S.M.: I don’t know the exact founding year. I need to look at it, actually; this reminds me. I want to put it on the packaging when we re-brand. [Linda McCartney Foods launched in 1991.] WWD: You have stayed faithful to your upbringing, and the tenets you were raised on. Do your kids embrace the lifestyle that you live at home? Has any of them ever questioned it? S.M.: Yes, they do. They are exactly how I was. But I think now there’s more people around [with similar views], although there’s still not a huge amount of vegetarians. Like, surprisingly, not all their friends are veggie. But it’s a much more well-versed conversation now. They are a lot less freakishly alone. But it’s very similar. I remember when I was really young, I’d say to my mom and dad, “why are we vegetarian? Why can’t I eat meat?” And they would say, “Well, you can eat meat because it’s an individual choice. But this is why we choose not to, because we don’t want to eat a dead animal.” My kids have asked me the exact same questions, and I give them the exact same answer. I’m like, “You are totally free to do what you want to do. I really respect your choice, but this is why I do it.” I see it through their eyes. Because when you’re part of a high-profile family that the world knows doesn’t eat animals, you don’t feel like you can go and sneak chicken Kiev on a weekend. But at the end of the day, my kids — I believe very much that children are so beautifully connected to nature and they’re so innocent and they’re so pure and the minute you say to them, “Look, there’s a chicken alive and there’s a chicken deep fried. Do you want to eat it?” I mean, nobody wants to eat stuff if they see how it’s made. I don’t think anyone would eat it if they really saw how it got to their plate.

A fanciful take on boho-cool, knitted from upcycled leftovers, from fall 2019.  WWD/Shutterstock

WWD: What do you think the lasting impact will be of COVID-19 on the industry? S.M.: I don’t know what the lasting impact will be, if any. My biggest fear is that things will just get back to what we consider normal, whatever that is. But I think that the immediate impact will be thinking differently, I hope. I’m always trying to push myself and my teams. They laugh at me. I’m, “OK, so what are we going to do? How are we going to do this differently?” For me, if every single day I didn’t try and figure out how to come at something differently, I feel like I wouldn’t be able to do what I do. I think that the entire industry now, and anyone in business now, has had to stop and say, “this is a moment I didn’t see coming. How am I going to be the one to think outside the box?” We are all competitive. We all want to win, and we all want to come up with great ideas. Right now people have got to push themselves and try to guess what might happen next. It’s a breaking of the norm as we have known it. I think if you are in fashion, you need to think that way every single day, regardless of the coronavirus. That’s our job. But there are obvious ways in which things will change. I think people are going to be much more cautious with their money. They’re going to invest more carefully, and they will buy in a different way, physically and emotionally. WWD: Small picture, back to spring, a little more on your thoughts right now. S.M.: We started working on spring, and then we paused. But I feel like at Stella we need to do something to [speak to] this moment and not just say, let’s just cancel everything until it’s over. For me, it feels like creatively we should be more inspired than ever to stand out. So I have been working on this little idea of individual pieces and individual gems, and being mindful of the two ends of the spectrum. I think some people will come back and go, “oh f–k it, I deserve to enjoy fashion for a second. I have been sitting in my flat in my pajamas for three months.” So I think there’s going to be [some people who want to shop]. Again, it comes back to working sustainably. I’m trying not to order new fabrics for [spring]. I’m just like, what have we got? We have fabrics that we buy in bulk because they are sustainably sourced. They are our go-to’s. We’re not like other fashion brands. WWD: No, you’re not. S.M.: I have a relationship with environmentally friendly suppliers. I have even created them in some instances. That’s the core value system of the brand, so that’s what we can go to. We’re lucky in that sense. It’s like saying I know that I can get my organic oat milk from this supplier, that’s not going to change. It’s just then left to me as to what I print on it this season or if I can embroider on it this season, which I probably can’t. I work like that anyway. My upcycled collection [fall 2019], those pieces all become limited editions. My final coat was like five seasons’ worth of prints sitting in a warehouse. So it shows that if you are sustainable as a business in fashion, you’re kind of ahead of the game when something like this happens. I’m not reliant on the same things that other people are reliant on because I am much more reliant on a sustainable source. WWD: Your ethical premise becomes pragmatic business. S.M.: Yes, and it becomes a supply chain conversation. I know there’s only two non-leather suppliers that I want to work with, with whom I’ve developed a soft non-leather or a faux fur. And so they are who I go to. I never start a season with, “let’s see 700 fabrics from Italy.” It’s not how I work. I’ve got my own little supply network. Over 60 percent of our environmental impact happens at the raw material stage, which means that this is where we have the biggest positive impact as well. If I didn’t use a fabric maybe in one season because it didn’t feel right, I don’t then sell it or chuck it away. I go, “OK, maybe I’ll use it next season.” It will sit somewhere and then I’ll reuse it.

A fluid coat crafted out of fabrics from past collections, from fall 2019.  Giovanni Giannoni/WWD

WWD: How will this crisis impact the show system? S.M.: I feel like we’ve been having that conversation for 20 years. Like, ugh. You know?  WWD: Yes. But do you think this is, finally, the essential reset button? S.M.: I think maybe more the conversation is, it’s our job to come up with newness, come up with different ways of grabbing attention and reflecting the feelings, the thoughts of other people. We represent that in what we do. So there’s always got to be a new way of doing it. We all think that fashion shows are medieval. We all question how that works and if it needs to be done that way. It’s just always hard to find an answer on that one. This will [force the issue], for sure. Exciting new ideas will come out of this, for sure. NOTE: On Monday, Stella’s p.r. Arabella Rufino sent word of the screen takeover at Piccadilly Circus. Asked why she planned the initiative at a time when there are so few people on the streets to take it in, Stella sent a thoughtful reply. “For the first time in history, we can truly measure the damage done by human activity,” she wrote. “Will we go back to the norm, or will we give Mother Earth the respect and time she deserves to continue healing — so that these city centers with their huge screens can be seen through unpolluted air? I hope we can learn from this moment of pause and that nature can reclaim its rightful focal place in our lives. My message is a gentle, loving reminder: Every day is Earth Day.”  

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[2019dclmed]

Monte Carlo/Monaco - Thursday, May 30, 2019

Monte Carlo/Monaco - Thursday, May 30, 2019

It was another 6:01am alarm for us with the PA call time of 7:30am. UGH. 

We were technically anchored at Villefranche, a central point for Nice, Cannes, Eze, & Monte Carlo/Monaco. I say anchored instead of docked, as this was our sole port that required tendering. 

Our PA for this port is the one we questioned the most, and it was the only one we did that was just a half-day.

Monaco, The Marina and The Little Train (V01)

Due to the “little train” portion of our PA, as expected, we had a large group with a handful of pretty young kids. In fact, I think they split our PA into 2 or 3 different groups, each filling an entire charter bus. I think there were actually about 30 in our group after tendering, which took longer than expected. 

Our guide was a nice British bloke, Paul. I think it was 8:15am by the time we pulled out. The port is at - and the busses travel through - a castle to exit; the tight turns required maneuvering by a charter bus that I didn’t believe was possible! Phew!

Kara: I love the water, but our only other experience with tendering was in the Caribbean, which is a bit unnerving. As we made our way out to the tender, I leaned back to G and said, “This isn’t your grandma’s tender boat.” They attached an entire ramped dock system to the side of the ship and our tender boat was a nice size touring ferry. Very, very easy. We also managed to get a couple of great shots of the ship while on the tender.

Also as expected, we drove around curvy roads and tunnels to get to Monte Carlo. They said there is one police officer for every 60 people in Monte Carlo, which totals 38,000 residents. (That’s over 600 police!) Honestly, you would need it for all of the overt wealth apparent everywhere you look. Overall, it was beautiful, clean, and the one word I’d use to describe it is “Opulent.” 

Of course our guide educated us about Princess Grace and Prince Rainier along with their children, the filming of 2 Bond films, and homes of U2 and Elton John. The Cannes Film Festival had been held just a few weeks prior. We walked through (quite quickly) the Cathedral. It reminded me of a much smaller version of a mix of both Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, as it had aspects of both “dark and light”. Somehow the combination worked beautifully here. 

We were given only about 10 minutes to browse around a few tourist shops, so it was no useful time at all.  

Then we took our 30 minute Little Train Tour, which had a good auto-audio guide. During the tour we witnessed the holistic dismantling of the Grand Prix circuit. Just the week prior the 90th running of the Monaco Grand Prix was held. We got to drive down the starting line and saw (didn’t drive on) the (to me) famous Tony Stark curve from “Iron Man 2”. 

Sidenote: The above statement is the main reason I chose a Monaco PA. Between my love of fast cars, Iron Man, and Disney-Pixar’s Cars 2, I really wanted to “be here”. My thoughts really changed weeks earlier, as (not being overdramatic) I was traumatized by what they did to Tony Stark in “Avengers: Endgame”. (I doubt I will ever be able to watch this movie again.) Thus, my experience was sadness rather than excited elation. However, between my Tony Stark/Endgame reflection and a book I was reading at the time, the experience gave me some deeper thoughts on what it means to be driven by fear….

Our tour ended with a beverage at the Marina with spectacular views of the harbor with its multi-million dollar yachts and the (no kidding) yacht-shaped Yacht Club - LOL! Monaco is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited, but with more time, I don’t know what we’d have done other than stroll around and find an overpriced cafe.

Kara: I could spend a few weeks in this general area and not take it all in. Between the museum, the castle, watching the water, going over to Eze and Nice and strolling - easily a few weeks. While there was certainly incredible opulence in Monaco I loved every moment of this tour, well except for one thing which you’ll read about in a moment.

We took a scenic route back through Eze - & inexplicably, Nice! In fact, we got stuck in traffic, not getting back to the ship until 1:15pm. (By the PA description we were supposed to be back by noon at the latest.) Thus, we could definitely see how people could easily miss the all aboard time in this port! 

When we finally did get back everyone was running off the bus, as we had a non-stop screaming infant in our group. He reminded me of Jack-Jack in full-on flame mode. (Kara said the same family was on her Naple/Sorrento tour during which the baby shrieked the entire time then as well. Kara nick-named him Demon Child.)

Kara: I adore kids, especially when they are cute and engaging as this little guy could be. G’s statement is true though - he had some demonic issues with being in a bus and I was OVER it.

This photos on the way back was fun to capture.

We dashed up to Cabanas before it closed at 2pm, since by this point we were starving. We did capture some lovely photos during/after lunch.

Then we escaped (finally) to our stateroom for some much-needed quiet. It was finally sunny and almost warm, so we sat on the verandah (me in a hoodie and jeans with sandals) to read. 

Kara - We enjoyed a little table right by the window in Cabanas - it was LOVELY! Then we strolled around on deck enjoying the sunshine.  I think Gayle might have been on a different cruise than me at this point because the weather was purely delightful.

Today’s VIP treat from Zoe was cookies - yum! We also stopped by Guest Service to make sure the gratuities were on my folio, as we always dedicate our onboard credit for this.

At 4pm I started to get ready for dinner, as I didn’t want to be late. Tonight we were in Rapunzel’s Royal Table for the second time. Part of the reason I requested this rotation was so we could be in Rapunzel’s Royal Table for the “Lantern Show” on the same night as the “Tangled” stage show. This was perhaps the thing I was MOST excited for on this cruise!

Thus, we were the FIRST people into the restaurant! As our head server indicated earlier in the cruise, we were able to move to an empty table nearby/on the center aisle (the exact location we were at on the Disney Wonder in Tiana’s)! I captured some video and Kara selflessly took pictures of me with Rapunzel and Flynn Rider. 

Kara: We started OUTSIDE the restaurant with photos: 

The Famous Sea Bass!

Dessert Menu

My dessert came in a mini-cast iron skillet! (It was basically a donut with chocolate sauce & ice cream, which was underwhelming.)

Rapunzel VIDEO https://www.dropbox.com/s/83thkfq30cgwsw1/IMG_1843.MOV?dl=0

Our server challenged us to find the 3 “hidden” Pascals around the restaurant. I found 1; Kara found the other 2. BOOM. (We will not give away the locations here!) Since we were in early and are quick with ordering our meal, we again had time for our server to try to stump us with table/crayon puzzles. (FYI with the “Mickey Mouse” clue we were then able to solve the “4 boxes to 3 by moving 3 crayons. I include this here to recall it in the future!)

After dinner, I spotted Hotel Director Lisa (Zoe’s boss) to share our positive feedback about many aspects of our cruise experience. 

Part of tonight’s “Tangled” theme was O’Gills Pub being “taken-over” as the Snuggly Duckling! 

Kara taught me rummy, while we simultaneously played and sang “Thugo” (Thug-themed bingo) with the entertainers. 

Kara pointed out a great banner that I may (will definitely) duplicate in my office for my university honors students:

We all have dreams. Now go follow yours and get out!

LOL!!!

Kara prompted us to the theatre before the doors opened so I could pick a prime location to view “Tangled”. 

I will say the show was...good. (The puppeteer for Max was great and the singer portraying Mother Gothel was INCREDIBLE.) This is tough because the stage shows are simply a performance of the movie. My stance is I can go to my stateroom (or stay home - gasp!) and watch the movie. Disney Cruisers get accustomed to and have a deep appreciation for their original Broadway-style shows - something you can only get on Disney Cruise Line. (I’m looking at you “Disney Dreams”.) And some are only offered on one or two of the four ships at that. So putting the movies on stage seems like a lesser effort on their part. Based on the limited time and facility they really can’t go “full out” like they do with the Broadway tour productions. (FYI they do “Frozen” on the Disney Wonder, something I found to be a painful experience and have no intention of going to ever again.) Still if they have to choose a movie to put on stage, “Tangled” is definitely at the top of my list! 

Overall, it was a great night! And even more so since there was no alarm for the next day’s Day at Sea! Back in the stateroom we journaled and enjoyed our regular nightly cookies. 

Kara pointed out on this trip we visited the 2 smallest countries: The Vatican and Monaco! 

We tried not to go into pre-emptive “sad mode” since tomorrow was the last full day of the cruise. With all the PAs, a 7 night cruise never flew by as fast as this one. 

Disclaimer: I (Gayle) am a travel agent with Authorized Disney Travel Planner agency - Off to Neverland Travel. Contact me today for a no-obligation quote!

Next up: Day at Sea!

[lindafrancois]

Does the Military Diet Actually Work?

So you’re interested in enlisting in the Military Diet, eh cadet?

Not so fast there.

This is a seriously controversial diet – and that’s not including the fact it has NOTHING to do with the military – so let’s discuss the following first (click to go that answer):

What is the Military Diet?

What does the Military Diet plan look like?

Will the three-day Military Diet help you lose weight?

Are there any benefits to the Military Diet?

Are there any drawbacks to the Military Diet?

Where did the Military Diet come from?

Is the Military Diet safe?

FAQ on the Military Diet

Alternatives to the Military Diet

Now step in line!

What is the MIlitary Diet? How does the Military Diet work?

If the Military Diet could be described in two quick words, those words would be “short term calorie restriction.”

Crap, that’s four words.

Ahem.

The diet focuses on ruthlessly cutting out calories in order to spur weight loss. There are some claims out there that you can lose up to ten pound in one week on the Military Diet. Which would be impressive – and should also be setting off your skeptical spidey-senses.

So I can understand your curiosity, recruit.

Now you’re thinking: “What exactly does ‘calorie restriction’ look like Steve?”

How about one meal consisting of just a single piece of bread, a half cup of tuna, and some black coffee.

That’s it. If you ask for more food you’ll be forced to climb a rope.

The Military Diet is broken into two stages, one for three days and the other for four.

3-day plan on the Military Diet. For three days, breakfast, lunch, and dinner is picked out for you. You get this meal only soldier, nothing more! Forget about snacking. For three days, every single crumb is accounted for. I’m only slightly exaggerating. And these three meals only add up to 1,000 calories per day. Ouch. That’s not much chow.

Four days of leave. The Military Diet does go easy on you after the three days, with four days of slightly more food. And by that I mean 1,500 daily calories. How generous. You’re on your own on what to eat for these four days, with the only guidance being to “eat healthy” and keep it at “1,500 calories.”

Three days on, four days off. You repeat this three day and four day rotation until you reach your ideal weight. That’s the Military Diet in a nutshell.

Okay, you probably want to know, to the crumb, what you get to eat on the Military Diet? Sure.

But it ain’t pretty.

What does the Military Diet plan look like?

As I mentioned, the Military Diet provides strict orders on what to eat for three days. Your mission looks like this:

DAY 1

Breakfast:

Half a grapefruit

One slice of toast

Two tablespoons of peanut butter

One cup of coffee or tea

Lunch:

Half a cup of tuna

One slice of toast

One cup of coffee or tea

Dinner

3 ounces of any type of meat

1 cup of green beans

Half a banana

One small apple

One cup of vanilla ice cream

DAY 2

Breakfast

One egg

One slice of toast

Half a banana

Lunch

One cup of cottage cheese

One hard boiled egg

Five saltine crackers

Dinner

Two hot dogs (no bun)

One cup of broccoli

Half a cup of carrots

One banana

Half a cup of vanilla ice cream

DAY 3

Breakfast

Five saltine crackers

One slice of cheddar cheese

One small apple

Lunch

One egg (cooked however)

One slice of toast

Dinner

One cup of tuna

Hald a banana

One cup of vanilla ice cream

If you find yourself thinking, “That’s not much for rations, Steve.” You’d be right.

Not only that, but I bet your normal serving of peanut butter is significantly larger than 2 tablespoons. Yikes.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

I’ll keep filling you on the details and then share my real opinion at the end here.

Substitutions? Some websites will guide you through substitutions to stick with in case you’re vegetarian or lactose intolerant, etc. Think tofu dogs for hot dogs. But you are told to match calories exactly for replacement, since the name of the game here is restriction.

For the most part however, substitutions are discouraged on the Military Diet.

What about after these three days? If you haven’t gone AWOL, you get a pass for four days. Some websites suggest you can enjoy a meal of shrimp fried rice or a black bean burger on your leave. To stick with the strict Military Diet strategy, you would keep it to 1,500 calories for each 24 hour period.

Eating only 1,000 calories a day is really difficult.

1,500 isn’t exactly easy peezy either.

Is this actually worth it?

Will the three day Military Diet help me lose weight?

In the short term, the Military Diet will most likely cause you to lose weight. Why, you ask?

Because science.

It’s the reason “all diets work.”

If you eat more calories than you burn in a day, you will gain weight over time. If you do the reverse, and burn more than you consume, you will lose weight[1].

Granted, there’s some finer details in that equation. Muscle, fat, body fat, etc.

But for simplicity sake, it works.

The Military Diet works by practically guaranteeing you will burn more calories than you consume. If an overweight person who usually eats 2,500-3,000+ calories in a day, suddenly switches to ONLY eat 1,000 calories for multiple days in a row, their body will operate at a caloric deficit while it seeks the energy required for drills, push-ups, and cleaning the mess hall.

When this is repeated for a few days, the number on the scale will get smaller!

So will YOU (specifically you, in the green hat) lose weight? Depending on where you are now and your current intake, that deficit (and thus the accompanying weight loss) could be DRAMATIC.

But will you lose 10 pounds in one week like some sites claim? I highly doubt it. Unless you have 100+ pounds to lose and usually eat 5,000+ calories per day, you can only lose so much weight in a short time period.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. People don’t get overweight in a day. And people won’t lose all the fat they want to lose in a day either.

Here’s another truth bomb that needs to be said: Even if the number on the scale drops significantly in a week, most of it is water weight. Your body contains a lot of water, especially if you normally eat very salty, carby foods. So when you remove those foods from your system, the amount of water your body holds can decrease significantly too.

So if somebody strictly followed the Military Diet down to the calorie for a week they could lose maybe one to two pounds of actual fat. They could lose multiple pounds of water weight too, but that won’t continue from week to week.

ATTENTION!

It’s time to hit you with more knowledge: Any weight you lose while on the Military Diet will only remain lost if you stay on the Military Diet. This is super important and will be stressed again later.

Are there any benefits to the Military Diet?

Any kind of calorie restricted eating program, if adhered to consistently, will likely result in weight loss.

Remember that guy who lost weight eating Twinkies[2]? It worked because he made a strict protocol of his calorie requirements. Then, he followed it. Yeah, he filled a lot of his diet with junk food. But the point is he managed his food intake according to a plan to lose weight, and then stuck to it.

And it worked!

Before you get all mad at me, I too believe that the quality of calories is as important as the quantity.

One of the FEW things I like about the the Military Diet is that it provides a strict protocol to follow. You don’t have to worry about what to eat. It’s breakfast time on Day 2. That means you eat one egg, one slice of toast, and half a banana.

It’s the same reason why many people love the Paleo Diet or Intermittent Fasting or Keto Diet or the Mediterranean Diet: there are specific rules to follow that removes all guesswork from “what should I eat, and how much?”

I won’t lie to you and claim that a guide on what to eat has no benefits. Lying will get you court-martialed.

Hell, we even have our own free 10-level diet blueprint that tells you exactly what to eat to help cut out the guesswork (you can get yours when you sign up in the box below):

Download our free weight loss guide

THE NERD FITNESS DIET: 10 Levels to Change Your Life

Follow our 10-level nutrition system at your own pace

What you need to know about weight loss and healthy eating

3 Simple rules we follow every day to stay on target

I identify as a:

Woman

Man

But as your friend, I can’t give you only one side of the story.

Are There Any Drawbacks to the Military Diet?

DON’T DO THE MILITARY DIET!

Sorry, I’ve been holding that in this whole post. Literally. I typed this whole post up to this point whiile holding my breath so that I could then blurt this out.

I won’t deny that you could lose weight following the Military Diet. But can any diet telling you to eat bread, crackers, and ice cream actually be good for you?

I know you know better. You’re an adult with a good head on your shoulders, and you’re probably considering the Military Diet because you want a quick weight loss win without having to make any permanent changes.

Unfortunately, things like “science,” “thermodynamics,” and “reality” will keep getting in the way.

The Military Diet is what we in the fitness world call a “crash diet.” Crash diets are designed for quick weight loss in a short amount of time. These diets – and I can included “cleanses” here – prey on people’s desperation to “get fit quick.” They know that if you follow a short term diet, lose a bunch of water weight, and see a lower number on the scale – you’re convinced it worked and then you can go back to how you were eating before.

Then when you quickly put all of that weight back on…you’ll come running back to the diet that got you short term results. This is how they make their money, get your attention, and ultimately leave you sad and right back where you started.

Other examples of terrible crash diets include the Cabbage Soup Diet, the Baby Food Diet and just about any juice cleanse on the market. I won’t even link to them, that’s how annoyed I am about their existence.

The reason these diets are short term is because they are not sustainable. Can you eat nothing but cabbage soup for a week? Sure. For an entire year? No way.

Crash diets are temporary diets. Which means their results will be just that, temporary.

The Military Diet is extreme and short term. Why do people in the military do this to themselves?

Spoiler alert: they don’t.

Where did the Military Diet come from?

Here’s another crappy bit of info: The Military Diet has absolutely nothing to do with any branch of the Armed Forces.

As quoted in CNN, Patricia Deuster explained, “In my 30 years working with the military, I’ve never heard of it.” And she would know, because Deuster helped write the nutritional guide for the U.S. Special Operations Forces[3].

So if it doesn’t come from the actual military, where does the Military Diet come from?

This three days crash diet has gone by different names before, the Cleveland Clinic Diet 3-Day Diet, the Kaiser Diet, the American Heart Association Diet, and the Birmingham Hospital Diet[4]. Despite the different names, the three day meal plan is exactly the same.

And guess what?

None of the organizations claim to have created or support their namesake diet.

So where did it come from? Honestly, I don’t care.

It’s silly and I don’t need to meet the person who created a three day crash diet, that co-opts the military name to make itself sound reputable and legitimate.

Is the Military Diet safe?

There’s nothing inherently dangerous about the Military Diet. It’s just eating unhealthy food in small quantities.

Which, depending on your current diet – could be a big improvement from eating unhealthy food in large quantities.

I don’t know you or your situation, but if you want to practice Karate kicks in the garage and become best friends, I’m down to clown.

Now, based on my 10 years of running Nerd Fitness, helping hundreds of thousands of people lose weight safely and in a sustainable way, I’m gonna tell you that this is probably not the diet you’re looking for.

Why? Because this diet will make you so miserable, and sticking to the portion sizes will make you so unhappy, that as soon as your 7 days are up, you’re gonna gorge yourself and probably end up even worse off than where you started!

This probably isn’t your first rodeo, nor is it the first quick fix you’ve sought out for weight loss. How have the previous attempts worked out for you in the long run?

I’m not saying this to be a jerk, but rather to make a point: I like you, your friends like you, and the world needs you to be the healthiest superhero version of yourself you can be.

And that will never happen if you keep chasing extreme short term diets.

I’d rather see you make changes you can stick with. Even if it’s one small change. Gradually reduce the calories you eat, by switching to REAL food. Things like veggies, fruits, and good quality meat. If you make one change, like eggs and avocados for breakfast, you’ll be making a great step in the right direction.

Small changes are something you can live with. Studies have shown that decreasing your caloric consumption by 25% can be fine for your mood[5]. Perhaps even beneficial. But dropping down to 1,000 calories? There’s no way that can, or should, be maintained.

I wouldn’t recommend you reduce calories by reducing the quantity of food, like ordering you to eat a meal of five saltine crackers, a slice of cheddar cheese, and one tiny apple.

Instead, I want you to make small changes to REAL food. That’s the ticket to long term weight loss. We’ve seen it over and over again here at Nerd Fitness.

Want help making the switch to REAL food? Not sure how to make all of that work in your busy lifestyle? I hear ya. It’s brutally difficult to stick with any diet, and that doesn’t even factor in when your kids get sick or work sucks or there’s two feet of snow on the ground.

It’s why we launched our 1-on-1 Online Coaching Program: to help create specific solutions and accountability for people that want guidance on how to eat, how to train, and the confidence to know they’re doing it correctly!

If this sounds like something that could help you, schedule a free call with our team to see if we’re a good fit for each other! You can do so by clicking on the big box below:

Frequently asked questionS on the Military Diet?

1) Do foods in the Military Diet help boost your metabolism?

There’s some debate on this. For example, can coffee help you lose weight by raising your metabolism? I’ll go with: unlikely. Any effect of caffeine to your metabolic rate isn’t enough to make a substantial impact[6]. If anything, it might act as an appetite suppressor[7]. Which isn’t nothing. But don’t count on it to raise your resting caloric expenditure like magic.

However, here are two things outside of diet that will help keep your metabolism high:

Strength training. The more muscle you have on your frame, the more energy you will use at rest[8]. It’s one of the reasons we recommend it so much. I have no problem playing drill instructor and demanding push-ups.

Stand up and move more. Any movement helps and even just standing up, outside of any walking, can help raise your metabolism[9]. A standing desk, for those long hours in the office, might be a good move.

Do either of these strategies, or better yet both. It’s better than relying on grapefruit powers to burn calories.

2) Will I enter starvation mode on the Military Diet?

Most likely not. Sure, if you go without food for a lonnnng period of time, your metabolism might slow down slightly, though this requires EXTREME nutritional restriction over a long period of time[10].

This makes sense from an evolutionary perspective. If there’s nothing to eat in sight, it might be that way for a while. After all, winter is coming…

Depending on how often you repeat it, the Military Diet might reduce calories to a point where this slow down of metabolism kicks in – but what’s more likely happening is that as you lose weight, your body doesn’t need to burn as many calories because there’s less of you to manage every day! So your metabolism WILL slow down as you lose weight, but it’s not due to you eating fewer calories in a day.

Now, some would say the climb up to 1,500 calories might help prevent this, but each person is different. My take: The fear of “starvation mode” is overblown, and it should be the least of your concerns while eating bread and ice cream and calling it a “diet”

3) Is the Military Diet a form of intermittent fasting?

Not really. Let me explain:

The MIlitary Diet focuses on restricting calories at a specific meal, by counting the amount of hotdogs you can have, for example.

Intermittent fasting centers on making a strategic decision to skip certain meals on purpose.

With intermittent fasting, you narrow the size of your eating window, or you occasionally do fasts of 24 hours. For instance, you can start eating at noon and finish up by 8pm, essentially skipping breakfast. I wrote all about it in our “Beginner’s Guide to Intermittent Fasting,” where I outlined the benefits of teaching your body to consume food more efficiently, and also reduces the total number of calories you are probably eating.

Conversely, the Military Diet teaches your body to run on hot dogs.

I’ve personally been utilizing intermittent fasting for three years. But I have never, nor will I ever, follow the Military Diet.

Shots fired.

If you want to try a strategic restricted eating program, you can sign up for our free Intermittent Fasting Starter Guide and Worksheets, by entering your email in the box below. We’ll make sure the guide gets sent to you.

Download a free intermittent fasting guide and worksheet!

Complete outline of the Intermittent Fasting Protocol

Worksheets for tracking when you eat and how long you fasted

I identify as a:

Woman

Man

Why you should not do the Military Diet, and What to do Instead.

We all want instant gratification. Unfortunately when it comes to fitness and diet, instant gratification will always fail you.

Short term changes only lead to short term results and heartbreak.

IF YOU ARE GOING TO DO THE MILITARY DIET: Godspeed, soldier. Good luck with your 7 days, and let me know how it goes in the comments below. My only request: use those 7 days to learn about yourself and nutrition (maybe by reading this post?), and do what you can implement permanent adjustments to how you choose to eat after.

I’d imagine most people who do this diet are hoping for a permanent fix with minimal work in just a few days time, and I’m here to caution you against that line of thinking.

LIFE DON’T WORK THAT WAY.

DON’T DO THE MILITARY DIET. DO THIS INSTEAD:

Eat real food when possible.

Eat a damn vegetable every once and awhile. Yes, even if you hate them.

Cut out liquid calories like soda and juice (they’re both sugar water). Drink water, black coffee, tea.

If you can eat real food, minimize liquid calories, and eat veggies, and do so consistently for months and months – you’re going to have permanent success.

Making these changes too tough to do permanently? Change fewer things!  

Start thinking in terms of “days and years,” not “weeks and months:”

Try one meal, based on REAL food. Forget the crackers and ice cream.

If you want a strict diet to follow with rules, create your own. Or find one that already exists.

Try Keto. Or intermittent fasting. Maybe Paleo. Or Mediterranean.

But don’t waste your time with the Military Diet or any other crash diet. Instead make lasting changes like I lay out in that video above.

If you read all of this and you’re overwhelmed, and you’re just looking for guidance on how to eat for your situation, you’re not alone! We had so many people ask us for specific advice that we built an Online Coaching Program to help them get results.

Our professional coaches are regular people like you, with families, hobbies, and struggles – but they spend all day helping busy people like you live better, lose weight, and feel better about themselves. No more temporary changes, instead, it’s small steps that are sustainable, forever. And that get you results that actually stick.

If you’re like “hey I want somebody to tell me what to do,” schedule a free call with our team to learn more by clicking in the big box below:

Back to the post: You don’t need to do the Military Diet.

The people in the military certainly don’t.

INSTEAD, YOUR MISSION, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT:

Cut back on your liquid calories. If it’s not water, tea, or coffee (black), try cutting back in a deliberate fashion. Switch to diet sodas. Switch to coffee instead of lattes. Realize that juice is just sugar water.

Prepare one healthy meal. Consider my healthy go-to option. Just make sure it has a vegetable, okay? Don’t overthink this.

If you can do those two things this week, and then repeat that week after week, you’ll be 10X better off a year from now than if you had followed the Military Diet for 7 days.

And lastly, remember, THE MILITARY DIET HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MILITARY!!!

Ahem. Any questions?

-Steve

PS: As alluded to earlier, I have no problem if you follow the actual diet recommended by the military. Check out their guide for Special Operations Forces here. But those folks work out A LOT. Adjust your caloric intake accordingly.

PPS: And if you already did the Military Diet, please drop and give me 20 push-ups 🙂 Just, make sure you’re doing them correctly!

ALL Photos Sources can be found in this footnote here[11].

Footnotes    ( returns to text)

Check out the study on a caloric deficit leading to body fat loss here

Read the article on CNN here

Check out the CNN article here and the nutritional guide here

Links to these crash diets can be found here, here, and here

Check out that study here

Check out that study on coffee here

Study on coffee and appetite found here

Study on muscle and metabolic rate found here

Study on standing up and metabolism here

Study on starvation and metabolic rate found here

patrolling, pushups, grapefruit, tape measure, sniper, caution, soldier, quick draw, cameraman, beach

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