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kyberled · 4 years

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Bird Headcanon Prompts!

@theshaark asked:

Falcon- what is your muse's biggest accomplishment? Do they like to show it off, or keep it to themselves?

That’s a tough one, and not just because he doesn’t like gloating about himself. He also just has a completely different metric than I do for a ‘great accomplishment’. So, I’m going to put a couple things (some he considers, and some I do) and talk about each of them a little bit. (Barring various battles he’s proud of, because if we include those, it’d be even longer than it already is.)

First is being chosen as a Jedi to begin with. He doesn’t consider this a great accomplishment, as he doesn’t think he did anything, but he is proud of what he is. He won’t flaunt it, though. Or - he won’t flaunt it often. He doesn’t think being a Jedi makes him better than others, of above them in any sense. Jedi are servants of the Force, after all. ... That being said, if he needs to pull rank to get something done, it is quite useful.

Second is getting his crystals. This one, he’s pretty proud of. Given that it’s a pretty common thing for Jedi - as in, every Jedi does it - he doesn’t brag about it. ... Not often, at least. He is very proud of his sabers, and will talk about them at length if asked. I’m talking hours upon hours. It’s one of his ‘things’. He is very proud of the colour, but he won’t usually show it off unless it’s in jest. His best friend Hano was the other member of their group who found an unusual crystal during the Gathering. Every now and again, the rest of their group will ask them ‘what makes them so special’, and they’ll light up their sabers and make a show of strutting around. It’s just a joke for them, though, and usually leads to some good-natured sparring and playfighting.

Third is being chosen as Obi-Wan’s padawan. This is huge for him. He thought he wasn’t going to get picked, and there were reasons for this. Some of which Rodi and I recently discussed over Discord and I’m still giggling about, but Braig doesn’t know them. He’s very proud of his status, though, and adores his master whole-heartedly. He does sort of show this off, but in a different way. Obi-Wan is canonically loved by other members of the Order. He’s basically a celebrity. This means, when Braig is on nursery/creche duty, he entertains the kids with stories about his master. Sometimes he embellishes them, just a bit. This is also just because he knows how hard Obi-Wan works. He knows how much his dad suffers for the Order. He also knows Obi-Wan will never ask for acknowledgement; that’s not who he is. Braig just thinks his master ought to be appreciated. So, if the kids start clamoring for tales of Master Kenobi’s latest exploits, well, who is he to say no?

Then learning Vapaad. This is something he’s very proud of, but doesn’t actually employ especially often. @nieithryn and I have been talking about it for a while (mostly because we’re both messes about Grandpa Mace and his tiny grandson), but, Vapaad is interesting. It’s not just a fighting style. In the words of Shatterpoint, it’s a mindset. And it can mess you up bad if you’re not careful. Like, really bad. Like, ‘the Force tried to get Mace Windu to kill a child’ bad. He doesn’t, because Mace Windu is a good person, but the Force does tell him ‘he drew a knife on you, stab him’ and Mace almost has to say ‘no, he’s like, ten, we’re not doing that’. The Force also told him, ‘hey, you could kill this entire enemy force, and it wouldn’t even be hard’. That one took a bit more effort for him to be like ‘well, yeah, I could, but I shouldn’t and won’t’.

(Fuck it, this is a Vapaad essay now.)

Now, this is in part because Korun (the planet Mace was on) is naturally steeped in the Dark side, but also because Vapaad involves the user letting themselves tap into the Dark. Now, here’s the thing: I’ve always considered the Force to be alive and sentient. It is ancient and it is hungry, and its morals aren’t our morals. It’ll get in your head and drag you down and tear you apart. It does not care. Additionally, I don’t really think of it as a black and white sort of deal. It’s a gradient, not a light switch. It’s also extremely easy to fall into the Dark and not be let go. Braig, as a Jedi, knows this. That doesn’t make it any easier to handle. The Jedi don’t dabble in the Dark side often. Those that do can struggle to come back. The dark will dig its claws in and rip you apart mentally and physically to serve its purpose. Just look at some of the noteworthy Darksiders, in both Legends and canon; they all end up as warped echoes of who they were before. Braig has heard this enough times to know about it pretty damn well. The dark side is scary. And, as proud of my boy as I am, as hard as he works, he’s not a master. He’s not even a knight. He’s a teenage padawan. There is no possible way for him to have the mental clarity of a Jedi master. Both because he doesn’t have the training or experience, not by half, but also, because teenage brains are still developing. Again, it is literally impossible for him to have the control Mace does. And there are times Mace struggles with the Vapaad mindset.

Liz and I (and Rodi, here and there) have discussed Braig’s Vapaad training a lot. It starts when he’s thirteen - at about the same time he’s chosen as a padawan. Sometimes this is instead of ‘standard’ saber classes, sometimes this is instead of one of the blocks of self-guided practice he’s supposed to have. The training is usually split into two sections: The first is actually training in Vapaad, the movements and philosophy and applications, and the second is coming down from it. It usually involves things like tea, meditation, naps, gentle conversation, guided breathing, and physical affection (eg hugs), as it’s all things that help ground Braig and help him get into a better mindset. And that’s all well and good in training. It’s fine in the Temple. It doesn’t work so well in battle. The older he gets, the more comfortable he might be with falling into the Vapaad mindset in combat, but - especially as a teenager - he considers it a last-resort option only. It’s too risky for him. The dark side scares him, and for good reason. One of the sifu I regularly train with (sifu Sam, for those who’ve been around a while) once told me that, if you do not fear a weapon, you are not ready to use it. It’s often called a ‘healthy fear’. It’s what keeps you from messing around with a weapon, being irresponsible, and getting hurt. Vapaad is devastating. The movements of someone who falls into Vapaad are described as “not blinding, but invisible” with the italics in-text. It is brutal and ruthless and possibly the deadliest form there is, but, of course, there’s the flip side that most Vapaad users have fallen to the dark, and not many of them are able to come back. Braig might incorporate some of the movements of Vapaad into his average fighting style, but, like I said, he’d only consider actually using it as a last resort, life or death sort of thing. When he’s training with Mace, he can sit down afterwards, have a cup of tea, and take a moment to breathe to get away from the viciousness of the Force. You don’t get that on a battlefield, especially when your adrenaline is rushing, and there’s an army of adrenaline-charged Mandos with you, and you might be hurt, or tired, or someone you love might be hurt or tired or worse, who knows? You don’t necessarily get time to breathe. He’s scared of what might happen if he can’t come down in time, or at all - he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

That’s not to say he isn’t proud of learning Vapaad. He’s extremely proud, mostly because of how few people are actually taught the form, but also because he gets to learn it from one of the people who created it. That’s a huge deal to him, he thinks it’s awesome. He just doesn’t think it’s appropriate for him to go bragging about it (especially because of how dangerous he quickly realizes it can be) - might make him seem like an unworthy student, too, which he doesn’t want. It’s similar to his sabers, wherein his friends might teasingly ask when they get to learn Vapaad, and he’d respond with a cheeky ‘uh, never’, but he’d never seriously gloat about it.

The Vapaad talk leads into his next ‘greatest accomplishment’: Killing General Grau Tessk. This is the first time Braig takes a life. It’s not the first time he’s seen anyone die, mind; he’s a medic. It’s a war. He’s seen a lot of men die. A lot of friends die. Either they died in combat, or, almost worse for his emotional wellbeing, they died on the way to or in the med tent. Sometimes they’re civilians. War isn’t pretty, it isn’t merciful. It takes until there’s nothing left to take, or you stop it. Or both. It’s usually both. So yes, Braig has seen people die. He’s just never killed before.

The Separatist army uses battle droids. Whether or not they’re sentient - that’s an ongoing discussion in the fandom at large - they’re not alive. They’re robots. They don’t generate a presence in the Force. You don’t feel it when they ‘die’. Heck, one of the droids in the Ryloth arc even mentions that some units (older ones) are run from a central computer, so if a droid does have a consciousness, cutting down the body might not even ‘kill’ the consciousness.

It’s different killing a person. You can feel them die. You can feel their presence sever from the Force (especially when you’re trained as a medic). Braig, like all Jedi, have been taught the value of life since he was old enough to understand. All life is of equal and immeasurable value.

And he just killed someone.

He doesn’t even remember a lot of it, even if it were something to brag about. Part of that is just the physical state he was in at the time: Tired, worn down, sleep deprived, malnourished, and, right, he’d just taken a lightsaber to the face. He wasn’t doing well. He’s been well-trained, but we’ve seen in canon that the styles he uses (the ones Obi-Wan uses) don’t do well with negative emotions. That’s why Maul and Savage beat the hell out of him. Vapaad isn’t like that. Vapaad takes every last drop of anger and fear and everything that you have and turns them not into bullets, but into nuclear armaments. Scorched earth. Additionally, so few people actually study Vapaad that most Separatists - even Grievous, who is trained in being able to learn and copy saber styles - don’t know anything about it, including how to defend. Tessk has fought Jedi before. Tessk hadn’t fought Vapaad before. If it wasn’t for that, there’s a very good chance Braig might have been the one to die instead of our dear general. It wasn’t a clean death in any sense; Tessk ended up in multiple parts. Personally, I think he had it coming, but Braig is a Jedi, and the idea that he killed someone shook him up terribly. It didn’t help that, as I’ve mentioned, it’s hard to get out of the mindset Vapaad requires. Kriss and Boone helped him out of the area, but there was definitely a good few minutes where they were trying to get Braig to talk to them and Vapaad/the Force was going ‘you don’t want to be touched, you want to be safe, you need to kill these people’ and Braig had to take a few breaths to remind himself that, no, Kriss and Boone are friends (or, at the least, he respected Kriss as an ally, but their weird are-they-aren’t-they-friends isn’t the topic here), and he REALLY didn’t want to hurt anyone else, especially not them. It came too close for comfort, though, and definitely spooked him pretty bad. I don’t know if he ever talked about it with the two of them - I’m not sure he could - but it’s definitely something he wants to talk about with Grandpa Mace, so here’s my reminder to bother Liz some time in the future.

If you couldn’t guess, no, he doesn’t brag about this. He feels awful about it. He expects to be punished. Jedi don’t kill. Jedi aren’t executioners. He killed someone. He took a life. He omits a lot of things in the official reports he files - including the real cause of Mal’s death - but doesn’t omit the fact that he cut down Tessk. If asked, he’d say that he accepts whatever punishment the Council deems fit. Of course, all of the grown-ups he’s discussed it with - including those on the Council - tell him, uh, no, you’re not in trouble, that was self-defense, you didn’t have a choice, but. It doesn’t really sink in. Yes, he had a choice, he thinks. He made the wrong one. Tessk should have stood trial. He would’ve been declared guilty easily, sure, but he should have stood trial. Even the notion that there would’ve been no way for them to hold Tessk until the Republic arrived doesn’t sit well for him. It translates into ‘I killed him because it was convenient’. Again, it... It takes him a while. He doesn’t really accept it until at least a good few months, if not a year or more, later.

Then we have surviving Order 66. This is huge. He’s one of the few Jedi who survive. He just... Doesn’t always want to be. Remember, he’s only seventeen when the purge happens. He’s still a child. He can’t even vote yet. And - in the ‘canon’ timeline - he deals with the genocide of his people alone. He has friends he eventually runs into and shacks up with, sure, but the earlier part of his developmental years were spent fighting a war, and the later end of that period was spent escaping a genocide. You can see why he doesn’t feel like celebrating. He doesn’t show this one off, either, because if anyone knew he was a Jedi, he’d be hunted down in the streets and shot. He gets a bit more bold with what he is once he’s situated with the Rebellion, but, before that? It’s best to just be safe.

I would also put his journal among one of his greatest accomplishments, though it’s not quite so grandiose. It’s something he’s kept since he was thirteen years old. He never really ‘finishes’ it until he knows he’s about done in life - his mid 220′s - and just digitized old pages and bought new ones (yes, it’s flimsi, he’s very attached to it). It has notes on everything from missions, to classes, to day to day life, to saber forms; reminders jotted in the margins about assignments or shopping lists, tic-tac-toe games, riddles Obi-Wan wrote in the corners, hangman games, linguistic notes, drawings, blueprints for lightsabers, botanical notes for plants and flowers he’s pressed... He always means to organize them better, and perhaps does later on, but in the end, it’s hard to present it as anything more than it is: Just a journal. It remains one of the only truthful records of the Jedi Order, though, and he will - after the Empire falls, of course - gladly share its content with anyone who asks. (... Maybe not some of the more covert or dangerous information, though.)

In a happier time, he becomes a knight, and he is very proud of that; years and years later, he becomes a master, as well. I’ve had multiple people suggest he sit on the Council, someday, and I think - when he was older and more experienced - he’d be happy to. He’s a terror about it, always scrutinizing everything he can, but what he does, he does out of love for the Order and those who comprise it, and faith in what they can be.

But above all, the thing he is most proud of at the end of his days - regardless of timeline - are his students, his children, his padawans. Whether his lineage continues on first through Tet (also at @nieithryn) in the ‘canon’ timeline, or he starts first with his puffawan F’lurr ( @strcngered ) before the blueberry son in a happier life and continues on with others like them, he’s so proud of them. He firmly believes they’ll be better than he ever was, and is so glad of that. They make him happy, they frustrate him at times and make him laugh when he thought he couldn’t. Things like watching Tet grow in confidence from the scared little one huddling in the corner of an Imperial ship’s holding bay to a capable and strong diplomat, watching F’lurr sprout and find their stride among some of the best swordsmen the Order has ever known, that’s what shows him everything he’s been through was worth it. (Sorry, T’raa, sorry, Tholme, his dandelion, now.) (Not sorry to the ‘Kosu parents, meet him behind Dex’s at dawn for a shebskicking.) They’re his legacy, they’re the legacy of every Jedi in his own lineage, they’re the legacy of the Order as a whole, and he’s so, so proud of them.

He just really fuckin’ loves his kids, guys. (But I’ve written about that before, and a lot here, so I’ll cut this off before I make my own muse cry.)

#theshaark #long post //#&& as best i can; answers #&& temple archives; headcanons #&& give the sun a head start; ooc #&& scars reveal us; grau tessk #&& rescue each other; braig and tet #&& my favourite flower; braig and flurr #bubbles: hey whats he proud of || me: okay well first we gotta unpack this trauma--#death //#death mention //#ask to tag

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ibtk · 4 years

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Book Review: Amber and Clay by Laura Amy Schlitz & Julia Iredale (2021)

(Full disclosure: I received a free ARC for review through Edelweiss and Library Thing's Early Reviewers program. Content warning for child abuse, animal abuse, and sexual assault.)

The children I spoke of before were like that. They weren’t alike, but they fit together, like lock and key. The boy, Rhaskos, was a slave boy. Unlucky at first. A Thracian boy—(Thrace is north of Greece) —redheaded, nervy, neglected. A clever boy who was taught he was stupid. A beautiful boy whose mother scarred him with a knife. The girl, Melisto, started life lucky. A rich man’s daughter, and a proper Greek. Owl-eyed Melisto: a born fighter, prone to tantrums, hating the loom. A wild girl, chosen by Artemis, and lucky, as I said before— except for one thing: she died young. This is their story. When it's over, if you like, you can tell me what it means.

"I want to tell you the things I never told anyone, in case this is my last chance. When I was alive, I didn’t talk much. So much of what I felt was a secret. I think that’s what I loved about the bear. Neither of us had any words."

Again we walked and talked. I never talked to anyone like that. No one ever talked like that to me. I talk to you still, Melisto. I’ve been talking to you ever since.

The red-haired boy variously known as Rhaskos, Thrax, and Pyrrhos is many things, though few of his masters care to know. He's Thracian nobility, with the scars to prove it - and also a slave, belonging to the wealthy Alexidemus and his soldier son Menon in Thessaly, and then to a humble potter named Phaistus in Athens. He loves horses and is as adept at handling them as he will one day become at drawing and sculpting them. He is a contemporary and friend of Sokrates, though he is powerless to stop his execution. He is an orphan, with a dolphin for a mother; a mother who loves him so fiercely that she curses a ghost to help set him free. He is like clay: common at first glance, but also not; capable of transmuting into creations lovely, clever, and full of value.

The owl-eyed girl called Melisto is seemingly as lucky as Rhaskos is not: the only child of a wealthy Athenian, Melisto wants for nothing. But she is a wild (read: untamed) girl child in a rigidly gendered society that has already predetermined Melisto's future for her: marriage, motherhood, a life of quiet domesticity. When, at the age of ten, Melisto is chosen to serve the goddess Athena as a Little Bear, her life opens up before her at Brauron; this is who she was meant to be. Like all good things, it cannot last.

Rhaskos and Melisto's destinies collide when Melisto frees a bear cub that is to be sacrificed to Athena. Or maybe their paths met even earlier, when Meda/Thratta was ripped from her toddler son. Perhaps the gods nudged them towards each other from birth. Alternately, the gods have nothing to do with it. Who can say? (Hermes, maybe. He has a lot to say and loves to hear himself talk!)

AMBER AND CLAY is ... not what I expected. Normally I'd steer clear of a contemporary (or any!) book styled after the ancient, epic poems (I positively labored through THE ODYSSEY and THE ILIAD in high school!), but the visual element sucked me in. I was under the (mistaken!) impression that AMBER AND CLAY would be heavier in illustrations than it actually is, almost as though part graphic novel. As it turns out, the illustrations - of archaeological artifacts - are a little sparser than I hoped, but they tie into the narrative quite nicely and add another layer of wonder and surprise to the story. The "exhibits" are really well done and do not disappoint.

Additionally, the synopsis had me thinking that this would be a supernatural romance; and while AMBER AND CLAY is indeed a love story, Rhaskos and Melisto are entirely too young to hook up, even by the time they finally meet near the story's end. (It's hard not to envision them - especially Rhaskos - as older than they are, both because the story seemingly stretching across years, and so much happens to these crazy kids to last several lifetimes.) Instead, this is a different kind of love story: AMBER AND CLAY tells of the love between a mother and her son; a father and his daughter; a teacher and his students; a girl and a bear; a ghost and her tether to the earth.

And despite my reservations about those epic poems, Schlitz both honors the form and breathes new life into it. While Melisto tells her story in prose, Rhaskos speaks in verse; and the gods sometimes address us commoners in turn-counterturn, occasionally using more complicated linguistic techniques like elegian couplets (which I barely recollect from HS English). This all sounds incredibly tricky and complicated (and undoubtedly is), but Schlitz pulls it off without a hitch. AMBER AND CLAY is fun and engaging, with a surprising sense of humor and expert sense of dramatic flair.

“Oh, Phaistus, look at his hair! He’ll be beautiful once he’s healed. We’ll call him Pyrrhos!” As if I were a dog. Pyrrhos means fiery. Half the red-haired slaves in Athens are called Pyrrhos.

It is, dare I say, exceedingly readable.

Honestly, I let out a little groan when I saw the "Cast of Characters" on page one, complete with various households and multiple monikers for the same people; but the story, the characters, their relationships to one another - all are easy enough to follow.

Schlitz's characters, both those based on historical figures and those spun from imagination and whimsy, are so full of life that they practically jump off the page. Rhaskos and Melisto; Meda and Lysandra; Phaistus and Zosima; Menon and Lykos; and, of course, Sokrates. Likewise, her descriptions of Greek life and customs left me hungering to learn more. Naturally, the most fascinating custom - that of the Little Bears of Brauron - is also that which we know the least about.

The scenes featuring Melisto and the bear cub are among my favorite in the book. In a story filled with animal sacrifice, this little slice of compassion and respect is life-affirming; to wit:

It turned in slow circles and collapsed with its rump pressed against her thigh. Melisto put one hand on it. It seemed to her that she had never touched anything more real than the bear cub.

For a moment her mind slipped back into the past. She recalled the bruises she had carried from her mother’s pinches, and the sore patches on her scalp from Lysandra’s hair-pulling. She remembered the loathing in her mother’s face that struck terror into her soul. She had never been afraid of the bear like that.

and

On the nights when she waded into the bay and watched the moon, she was barely conscious of the fact that it was she who saw, and the moon that was being watched. In the same way, she did not measure how much she loved the bear. She was the bear.

Likewise, Rhaskos's interactions with Grau/Phoibe are so wonderfully tender, my heart aches just to think back on them. From the moment he renames her (grau means hag) - a change of name that's much more respectful than those Rhaskos was forced to accept - Rhaskos treats his donkey charge with decency and kindness. The same kindness that he himself longs for.

Animals know when things get better. People might not know, but animals do. That very first day, Grau knew I was going to be good to her and I swear to you, she was glad.

Cue the "what is this salty discharge" gifs.

AMBER AND CLAY is such a beautiful story, and I'm glad I took a chance on it. Iambic pentameter be damned.

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/3861642614

#books #reviews #amber and clay #fiction #historical fiction #Laura Amy Schlitz #Julia Iredale #ancient greece #novels in verse #ghosts #animal sacrifice #child abuse

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krebs-kann-jeden-treffen · 2 years

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Ich Brauche keinen Psychoonkologen #1

Dies ist meine erste Story! Ich habe das alles gestückelt, es ist sonst zu viel auf einmal.

Ich kann den Tag nicht mehr genau benennen, aber es war im Hochsommer und vor mir stand eine Patientin, mit schulterlangen blonden Haar. Sie humpelte etwas, aber brauchte keine Gehstützen oder ähnliches. Sie wirkte etwas unsympathisch, aber ja was soll ich sagen, sie hatte etwas an sich,dass irgendwie Fröhlichkeit in einer recht dunklen Gesellschaft oder Zeit aufblicken lies. ich hatte nicht viel mit ihr zu tun, sie wurde vom Orthopäden zu uns geschickt und weiter befasste ich mich nicht mit ihrer Diagnose. Ich glaube sie war genau einmal bei uns in Behandlung, aber verschwand dann auch so schnell wie sie wieder kam, aber nicht im negativen.

Recht genau ein Jahr später, stand vor mir eine sehr dünne, magere Frau mit Turban ähnlichen Kopftuch. Sie lief an Gehstützen und wirkte auf mich denn noch recht fröhlich, obwohl sie sehr grau gekleidet war. Als ich erfuhr wie ihr Name war, war ich geschockt weil ich mit ihr immer noch diese starke blonde Frau von vor einem Jahr assoziierte. Ich weiß nicht mehr genau, was in dieser Sekunde durch meinen Kopf ging, aber wie ein Automatismus und wie als wüsste ich wo alles liegen würde obwohl ich sie nur einmal gesehen habe, ging ich zum Schrank und zog mit einem Griff ihre Patientenakte hervor. Ich stürmte an ihr vorbei, ging zu meinem Chef und legte ihm die Akte hin. Ich wusste nicht genau was passiert ist in diesem einen Jahr mit ihr und dennoch wusste ich, dass Ihr Krebs ist wieder da ist. Obwohl ich nicht Dienst hatte im Labor, nahm ich Sie mit ins Blutentnahmezimmer und schaute Sie mir genauer an. Wo einst die langen blonden Haare waren, war nun nur noch eine kahle Stelle. Ihren kahlen Kopf bedeckte sie mit einem Kopftuch. Es stand ihr sehr gut muss ich im nachhinein zugeben. Dennoch war ich sehr geschockt sie so abgemagert zu sehen, als würde sie von innen aufgefressen werden.

Ich fragte Sie was passiert sei. Kurz darauf brach Sie in Tränen aus. Sie berichtete mir, dass ihr Krebs wieder da sei und diesmal schlimmer als zuvor. Derzeit habe Sie eine Chemotherapie angefangen. Diese sorgte dafür dass sie so dünn sei, nichts essen könne und alles gleich schmeckt. Außerdem habe Sie einen Portkatheter erhalten. Fälschlicherweise dachte ich, die Fäden müssen entfernt werden, allerdings waren dies Selbstauflösende. WIr blockierten dieses Zimmer über eine Stunde lang, weil mein Chef so in Verzug war und ich wollte diese Frau, die so mager aussah nicht einfach abweisen und auf einen anderen Tag verschieben. Ihr Blutbild zeigte mir bereits, dass die Chemotherapie ziemlich viel in Ihr anrichtete. Ihre Leukozyten (weiße Blutkörperchen) befanden sich bei 1,2 oder 1,3 also keine gute Abwehr gegen sämtliche Krankheitserreger. Auch erzählte Sie mir, dass ihr langjähriger Partner jetzt solche massiven Probleme hätte mit Ihrer fortgeschrittenen Erkrankung und Ihrem Zustand hätte, dass dieser sich von Ihr trennte. Sie schüttete mir eh ganz Herz aus. Ich weiß nicht was schlimmer war, die Geschichten die sie mir erzählte oder der Gedanke, dass ich wusste wie sich ein Mensch in so einer Situation wohl fühlen mag. Ich konnte dies nur durch die Situation mit meiner Mutter nachvollziehen, aber nicht so in diesem Ausmaße, dass eine junge Frau die erfolgreich in ihrem Leben war, solche Dinge durchmachen musste. Im Job wird man nicht darauf vorbereitet solche Situationen psychologisch vernünftig zu verarbeiten. Sie weinte. Sie weinte sehr viel. Die Angst vor der Operation, welche auf die Chemotherapie folgen sollte, raubte Ihr sämtliche Nerven, den Schlaf und auch den Willen zu leben. Aktivitäten wie Laufen, Sitzen oder Springen, all das müsste Sie komplett neu lernen. Ihr halbes Becken sollte entfernt werden, dementsprechend müssten sämtliche Muskeln, Sehnen und Nerven an einen anderen Ort befestigt werden. All das kenne ich nur von meiner Schulter-Operation und selbst dort wurde die Sehne nur um wenige Millimeter verschoben. Selbst dabei muss man so viele Bewegungsabläufe neu lernen.

#krebs #chemotherapie #chemotherapy #cancer #german #deutsch #leben #geschichten #trauer #menschen #pflege

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junikindchen · 3 years

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Das Dilemma mit der vermeintlichen Liebe.

Ist es Liebe oder ist es einfach nur die reine Vorstellung davon?

Das Romantisieren einer Bindung zu einer spezifischen anderen Person, die eigentlich gar nicht so rosarot ist, wie sie scheint?

Mir fällt dies in letzter Zeit so oft auf.

Bei mir.

Bei Familie.

Bei Freunden.

Bei Fremden.

Wir verlieben uns scheinbar in jemanden, aber tun es nicht wirklich.

Wir denken wir sind verliebt, aber sind nur in die Vorstellung verliebt, verliebt zu sein.

So viel verliebt in einem Satz, bereitet ja schon fast Kopfschmerzen.

Ich glaube es liegt daran, dass der Großteil von uns einfach nie gelernt hat, dass man sich selbst lieben soll.

Durch die vermeintliche Liebe zu einer anderen Person, bekommen wir automatisch die Liebe, die wir uns selbst nicht geben können, aber brauchen.

Bzw bekommen wir die Vorstellung von Liebe, die wir benötigen.

Ich überdreh doch selbst immer innerlich genervt die Augen wenn ich höre “Du musst immer zuerst dich selbst lieben, bevor du dein Herz vollkommen für eine andere Person öffnen kannst”.

Aber sind wir uns doch ehrlich: Eigentlich ist es doch nur die harte Wahrheit.

Wir malen uns diese Personen wunderschön, mit vielen schönen bunten Farben, weil wir eine Brille aus Herzen tragen.

Würden wir sie abnehmen, würden wir merken, dass all die Stifte nicht bunt sind, sondern grau und schwarz.

Die Person ist nämlich meist nicht so toll, wie wir sie sehen.

Deswegen sieht der Großteil auch weg, wenn die Person uns wie Dreck behandelt, uns manipuliert und einfach toxisch ist.

Deswegen geht es uns so schlecht, wenn diese Person uns fallen lässt.

Nicht, weil die Person so toll war, sondern einfach, weil dieses Gefühl von Liebe weg ist.

Da wir uns selbst nicht genug lieben, fühlt es sich noch schrecklicher an, da wir dann im Endeffekt gar keine Liebe mehr bekommen.

Dann stehen wir da, mit nichts und wieder nichts.

Es stimmt.

Es gibt das Gesetz der Anziehung.

Du ziehst an, was du bist.

Bzw ziehst du an, was du selbst von dir hältst.

Bist du nur scheiße zu dir selbst, wirst du höchstwahrscheinlich Menschen anziehen, die auch scheiße zu dir sind.

Das ist nicht deine Schuld. Du hast es einfach nie gelernt.

Wir leben in einer Welt, wo Selbstliebe als arrogant und eingebildet gesehen wird.

Unser Selbst wurde komplett von uns verfremdet.

Wir sollten lernen, uns selbst mehr zu schätzen.

Jede Macke, jede Delle, jeden Gedanken.

So brauchen wir niemanden anderes, von dem wir uns emotional abhängig machen müssen, auch wenn er uns wie Dreck behandelt.

Wir brauchen niemand anderes, der uns das Gefühl von Glück und Liebe gibt.

Die Person sollten wir selbst sein.

Wir brauchen keinen Herzschmerz mehr ertragen, weil jemand anderes nicht weiß, wie er mit uns umzugehen hat.

Long story short:

Lieb dich verdammt nochmal selbst, denn du hast es aufrichtig verdient, diese Liebe zu spüren.

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letteratitudine · 3 years

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Il tributo italiano agli Emirati Arabi Uniti in un libro fotografico

Il tributo italiano agli Emirati Arabi Uniti

"Hi Dubai & Hi Emirates"

di Benedetta Paravia

La presentazione del libro fotografico si terrà mercoled�� 29 settembre presso l’Istituto Italiano di Cultura di Abu Dhabi, alle ore 18:30.

In concomitanza avverrà anche a Roma, mercoledì 29 settembre alle ore 16:30 presso Hotel American Palace (Via Laurentina, 556 – Roma).

Hi Dubai & Hi Emirates di Benedetta Paravia (Graus Edizioni, pp. 128) è un libro fotografico che racconta la passione che ha caratterizzato il lavoro delle interviste e delle riprese della serie cross-mediale Hi Emirates, composta dalla prima parte HI DUBAI e dalla seconda HI EMIRATES.

La serie racconta storie di donne contemporanee che si sono realizzate attraverso percorsi di vita e lavoro negli Emirati Arabi Uniti: Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Sharjah, Fujairah, Ras al Khaimah, Ajman e Umm al Quwain.

La serie, ideata da Benedetta Paravia nel 2017 − anno emiratense “della generosità” − è stata successivamente realizzata, dal 2018 al 2020, per mostrare lo spirito pluralista di un paese che offre dignità e rispetto ad una popolazione variegata e multiculturale, sottolineando il ruolo della donna in un’autentica nazione islamica. L’autrice e produttrice Paravia presenta istanze di ospitalità, generosità e inclusività di un paese, quale gli E.A.U., che sta modellando la strada per una società più coesa e armoniosa, valorizzando il ruolo della donna. Paravia invita a visitare e a vivere negli E.A.U. attraverso gli occhi delle sue vincenti ed eterogenee protagoniste che guardano con ottimismo al futuro. Quest’anno in occasione dell’Expo e delle celebrazioni dei 50 anni degli Emirati Arabi Uniti, il libro si inquadra come un vero e proprio tributo dell’Italia al paese amico, con le testimonianze dell’Ambasciatore Italiano Nicola Lener e della Direttrice dell’Istituto Italiano di Cultura di Abu Dhabi Ida Zilio Grandi e con gli auspici dell’Ambasciata d’Italia negli E.A.U. e del Ministero emiratense della Cultura e della Gioventù.

Le serie sono state prodotte dalla società Finservice in collaborazione con SDOA s.r.l. ed hanno ottenuto quasi 1 milione di spettatori a puntata su Dubai One TV e sono oggi visibili su tutti i voli della Emirates Airlines.

Benedetta Paravia

A Dubai dal 2002, è una filantropa italiana, autrice, presentatrice e produttrice che ama gli E.A.U. i cui progetti sono da anni un ponte culturale tra i due paesi.

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ivanscudieri-blog · 10 months

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10.12.2023 - Knockout – storia di odio e di amore: incontriamo l'autore Pasquale Borrelli con Ivan Scudieri all'interno di Storie di Graus, libri da raccontare su Podcastbook.it Fabio è un adolescente ribelle e sfrontato che vive in un piccolo paese della provincia di Caserta. Per lui e per il suo gruppo di amici è un limbo dove la vita scorre lenta e noiosa. Un luogo senza stagione e senza tempo dal quale solo la droga sembra offrire una via d’uscita. Fabio cresce con il suo gruppo di amici, frequenta Monica, e trascorre le sue serate al Centro Sociale, dove discute coi suoi compagni di politica e mobilitazione. Da queste riunioni nascono azioni sempre più risolute: il gruppo del Collettivo decide di contestare da solo il congresso cittadino di Forza Italia. A questo scontro ne seguiranno poi altri, per farsi strada in un mondo ingiusto e portare avanti con forza i propri ideali.

#graus-edizioni #ivan-scudieri #knockout #libri #pasquale-borrelli #podcast #podcastbook #storie-di-graus

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lospeakerscorner · 3 years

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Giovanni Renella ci racconta due favole

La VI edizione della raccolta di favole inedite pubblicate dalla casa editrice Kimerik include due racconti di Giovanni Renella Giovanni Renella è nato a Napoli nel ‘63, ma vive a Portici. Agli inizi degli anni ’90 ha lavorato come giornalista per i servizi radiofonici esteri della RAI. Nel 2017 pubblicato la sua prima raccolta di short stories, Don Terzino e altri racconti, Graus editore. Nel…

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#antologia #Giovanni Renella #Kimerik #Portici #tiracconto una favola

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derspille · 6 years

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God Complex (Teil 1)

Brighton, Großbritannien April 2018

Es ist 04:30 Uhr am Morgen als der Wecker klingt, wir ein letztes Mal die Gurte unserer Rucksäcke festzurren und in die S-Bahn zum Flughafen steigen. Rebecca und Natascha gähnen erst, dann lachen sie, nachdem Nils eine Sprachnachricht in die Gruppe gesendet hat. Sein Personalausweis ist verschollen, bei der Bundespolizei am Flughafen haben sie ihm nun einen Wisch mit einer Gültigkeit von 4 Tagen ausgestellt. Alle versuchen zu schlafen und während wir drei anderen das eigentlich eher scherzhaft meinten, kauft Rebecca Rubbellose und gewinnt. Sie gewinnt eine Stunde, weil wir die Uhren zurückstellen müssen: England, grau und verhangen, Linksverkehr.

Nach einer langen Autofahrt, die durchzogen ist von Staus, Deutschrap, Instastories und diversen Anregungen an die Fahrerin doch mal einen U-Turn zu machen oder jemanden zu rammen, poltern wir auf den wenig befestigten Parkplatz von Nicos Arbeitsstelle. Standesgemäß als Praktikant für Videomarketing erscheint er hinter der Biegung mit einem knatternden Quad, welches von jedem, nach standesgemäßer Begrüßung des verlorenen Gangmitglieds, inspiziert und dann ausprobiert wird. Danach englischer Tee und Footgolf. Also Golf, nur halt mit dem Fuß. Wir schießen um die Wette, haben unsere Highlights trotz Startschwierigkeiten. Niemand bricht sich etwas, nur Nils Schuh wird in Mitleidenschaft gezogen. Nach weiteren Instastories und Quatsch fahren wir in die Stadt, erste Erkundungstouren stehen an.

Klassische, englische Architektur und inmitten der Stadt ein indisch anmutender Palast. “Keine Ahnung, warum das so ist.” Nico hat sich bereits vertraut gemacht mit der lokalen Kultur. Im nächstgelegenen Pub fragt er einen Bekannten nach einem Ramen-Laden. Nach der asiatischen Befüllung der Mägen weiter zum Strand, man trinkt Dosenbier, welches keinen Pfand hat und man aus Spaß mal wegwerfen kann. Aber klar, wird sofort wieder eingesammelt. Deutsche Mentalität an einem englischen Strand mit Blick Richtung Frankreich. Später am Abend sitzen wir beim Pub Quiz, versuchen die Fragen aus dem genuschelten Englisch herauszuhören und auf dem iPad schnell die richtige Antwort einzutippen. Das klappt so mittelgut. Rebecca und ich kündigen als die größten Instanerds unser und damit das größte Crossover aller Zeiten an, welches nicht zustande kommt. Day One - complete.

“We’ll get so many roses, so I can’t tell. There will be so many people, who want us in hell.” God Complex - Search Yiu

Dies ist der erste Teil der Brighton-Story. Hier geht es zur ganzen Story.

#great britain #brighton

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phooll123 · 4 years

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New top story from Time: President Trump’s Brother, Robert Trump, Dies at 71

(NEW YORK) — President Donald Trump’s younger brother, Robert Trump, a businessman known for an even keel that seemed almost incompatible with the family name, died Saturday night after being hospitalized in New York, the president said in a statement. He was 71.

The president visited his brother at a New York City hospital on Friday after White House officials said he had become seriously ill. Officials did not immediately release a cause of death.

“It is with heavy heart I share that my wonderful brother, Robert, peacefully passed away tonight,” Donald Trump said in a statement. “He was not just my brother, he was my best friend. He will be greatly missed, but we will meet again. His memory will live on in my heart forever. Robert, I love you. Rest in peace.”

The youngest of the Trump siblings had remained close to the 74-year-old president and, as recently as June, filed a lawsuit on behalf of the Trump family that unsuccessfully sought to stop publication of a tell-all book by the president’s niece, Mary.

Ron Galella–Ron Galella Collection/Getty Images(Pictured from left) Blaine Trump, Robert Trump, Donald Trump and Ivana Trump at the Pierre Hotel in New York City in 1987.

Robert Trump had reportedly been hospitalized in the intensive care unit for several days that same month.

Both longtime businessmen, Robert and Donald had strikingly different personalities. Donald Trump once described his younger brother as “much quieter and easygoing than I am,” and “the only guy in my life whom I ever call ‘honey.’”

Robert Trump began his career on Wall Street working in corporate finance but later joined the family business, managing real estate holdings as a top executive in the Trump Organization.

“When he worked in the Trump Organization, he was known as the nice Trump,” Gwenda Blair, a Trump family biographer, told The Associated Press. “Robert was the one people would try to get to intervene if there was a problem.”

Robert Stewart Trump was born in 1948, the youngest of New York City real estate developer Fred Trump’s five children.

The president, more than two years older than Robert, admittedly bullied his brother in their younger years, even as he praised his loyalty and laid-back demeanor.

“I think it must be hard to have me for a brother but he’s never said anything about it and we’re very close,” Donald Trump wrote in his 1987 bestseller “The Art of the Deal.”

“Robert gets along with almost everyone,” he added, “which is great for me since I sometimes have to be the bad guy.”

In the 1980s, Donald Trump tapped Robert Trump to oversee an Atlantic City casino project, calling him the perfect fit for the job. When it cannibalized his other casinos, though, “he pointed the finger of blame at Robert,” said Blair, author of “The Trumps: Three Generations that Built an Empire.”

“When the slot machines jammed the opening weekend at the Taj Mahal, he very specifically and furiously denounced Robert, and Robert walked out and never worked for his brother again,” Blair said.

A Boston University graduate, Robert Trump later managed the Brooklyn portion of father Fred Trump’s real estate empire, which was eventually sold.

Once a regular boldface name in Manhattan’s social pages, Robert Trump had kept a lower profile in recent years. “He was not a newsmaker,” Blair said.

Before divorcing his first wife, Blaine Trump, more than a decade ago, Robert Trump had been active on Manhattan’s Upper East Side charity circuit.

He avoided the limelight during his elder brother’s presidency, having retired to the Hudson Valley. But he described himself as a big supporter of the White House run in a 2016 interview with the New York Post.

“I support Donald one thousand percent,” Robert Trump said.

In early March of 2020, he married his longtime girlfriend, Ann Marie Pallan.

The eldest Trump sibling and Mary’s father, Fred Trump Jr., struggled with alcoholism and died in 1981 at the age of 43. The president’s surviving siblings include Elizabeth Trump Grau and Maryanne Trump Barry, a retired federal appeals judge.

Authors Michael Kranish and Marc Fisher described Robert Trump as soft spoken but cerebral in “Trump Revealed: The Definitive Biography of the 45th President”: “He lacked Donald’s charismatic showmanship, and he was happy to leave the bravado to his brother, but he could show flashes of Trump temper.”

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AP researcher Jennifer Farrar contributed to this report from New York.

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itsfinancethings · 4 years

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New story in Business from Time: President Trump’s Brother, Robert Trump, Dies at 71

The president visited his brother at a New York City hospital on Friday after White House officials said he had become seriously ill. Officials did not immediately release a cause of death.