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betweentheracks · 4 years ago

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Updates//Recent Inactivity

Hello all! This is me finally taking some time to sit down and offer up a rundown on how life is currently going as a means of explaining my inactivity. This is a personal post that is guaranteed to be both rambling and emotional so if that is not your cup of tea, I understand and happily advise you just skip over this post as it is not relevant to the actual content this blog was intended for.

EDITED: After reading this back I now realize this is really just me spilling the tea on my own life and is laughably dishy in details which is extremely not my usual stance on my personal privacy. But idk, it was cathartic so I'm leaving it as is despite the urge to redact 70% of what I say.

I'll start with the good news that I am officially out of lockdown and have remained COVID-19 free since my return home from the hospital. This also means my son finally was allowed to come home to me which is dazzling and exciting and also a little terrible too. He's at a precocious age where tantrums are the cool way to communicate and having been gone for so long completely thrashing his established routine has caused friction. He came home and his parent was not the same as when he left; is much weaker and less energetic than before, paler and shaky - but also there's the addition of my best friend having moved in to assist and take care of me/him while we all do our best to muddle through.

The readjustment has been rough and a lot of this week has made me incredibly thankful to have practically zero memory of how I was as a child. There have been injuries: I have been whacked in the face with the metal cover for a floor vent while dozing on the sofa instead of paying rapt attention to whatever silliness he was showing off to me, there was his complete dismissal of me asking him to stay back and away from the hot oven as I pulled lunch from it's fiery jaws only to then be faced with a toddler quickly approaching with his hand raised to touch so I naturally made a move to block him and in the process I let go of the oven door which slammed upward and clamped my arm tightly between it and the inside cavern of the oven while it was set to a roasty 400 degrees Fahrenheit - earning me a mangled arm with burns of varying degrees, and then we also had that fit where it seemed like a much more grand idea to scale the babygate cordoning the stairs and I had to rush up them to stop him from tumbling face first down two flights and of course did the falling all on my own and did it backwards then slammed painfully into the wall of the landing. This all happened within a 48hr time frame and makes me wonder why I am so catastrophically inclined.

I have bruises that range the majority of my spine courtesy of the wall and stairs, two minor first degree burns on my forearm that are in the shape of an equals and quite large despite the lack of actual pain I feel from them, and the underside of my forearm was instantly blistered then popped then melted down into a horrid glob of skin mush and sticky red-orange and is a second degree burn that I have been assured is no real cause for concern as long as I tend it with care. In all, I managed to escape my momjuries relatively unscathed and with a child that was scared senseless at having hurt his momma and is quick to listen and never stops cuddling me in the time since. Here's hoping he isn't significantly traumatized from this since exactly none of this is especially his fault and is due to my clumsy, accident-prone status in life.

So yes, The Toddler has returned home to me and after some happenings we have settled and are happy. However, his blast from the past father has suddenly just decided to reemerge after more than a year of radio silence and static and has slapped me with a custody petition. Hooray. While I have no worries on this matter due to my mother working for one of the top custody lawyers in the state and snagging him as my representation, and the utter lack of competency on my estranged baby daddy's end clearly being displayed in literally anything and everything the idiot does/says, I do have to now go through the overhaul of a custody case and that is just so weak and exhaustive. Not to mention the basis of his claims that I am not fit to raise a child are founded in my health concerns and the crazy work schedule I keep; ironically, my health is making it so that I have much less insane hours and makes this fairly moot but to each their own I guess. Also worth noting on this matter is that he only did this now because he was recently placed under penalty for child support back pay and nothing in this world matters to him like his money and this is his special way of getting one over on me for tampering with his meager earnings. (He's a wannabe musician - the soundcloud rapper sort, just so we are all on the same page here). If I thought for even a second this was a genuine desire to be an active and stable parent I would be a lot less pressed to act in favor of making it legally binding that he can only see him under a supervisory condition and share time evenly, but it just is not believable in the slightest.

So the thing is - my health is actually quite dismal presently. I'm due in for open heart surgery on the 8th of April and until then I have been doing my utmost to mind all the nagging I get from doctors, PT specialists, the surgeons that will be slicing and dicing me, and my in-family medical practitioner that sometimes remembers he is also my brother and not just an MD. But like, you guys, this surgery is terrifying and technically is two surgeries rolled into one. They'll be cracking my chest open and then stopping my heart while they lift it from where it sits sweetly unhinged and lopsided in my body and very finely shave away some of the excess muscle that has built up around the wall of my heart as well as some unfriendly scar tissue that has lingered since my last surgery years ago. Granted there is no accidental slip that nicks my ugly gargantuan heart and renders me as good as dead, once this first part is finished the other surgeon will need to be deft and very quick to place this ventricular assisting piece in the valve that has all but given up on functioning altogether and do so in the time remaining before the time limit for my heart being essentially unplugged from by body is up, which would also feasibly mean my death. Lots of exciting and terrible sounding consequences, am I right?

Well let's bear it in mind that I am just below 30 in age and therefore not duly experienced in the realm of facing down my own mortality via making all necessary legal arrangements and managing my affairs and assets so that, in event of my untimely death, the custody case still doesn't stand a chance of snatching my son away to the sad misfortune of being raised by a man that has stated openly he only has interest in his kids so far as what they can do for him/get for him in terms of benefit and that he would be unwilling to be hypocritical and never deter his children from drugs and a lifestyle of extremely questionable moral integrity and hygiene alike. Eugh. But I also have had to make sure there is a DNR in place just in case things go wrong during the operation, my will has also been finalized and notarized, all my savings and financial/material assets have been squared away to come into my child's inheritance when he is of age and, most importantly, a document that states clear and direct instructions for him to be placed in care of my mother or, if she is unwilling or incapable, he will be under custodial order and guardianship of my best friend whom he has always viewed as a pseudo-dad anyway. Legally binding and even in light of the paternity petition this document supersedes parental right by way of the provided evidence I have submitted to prove a lack of parental credibility. That's right, I spent days lowkey stalking and sleuthing about to capture what I needed to show this man for what he actually is and I have precisely zero guilt or shame for doing it; this is my child on the line and that means momma doesn't have to play by the rules of snitches getting stitches or whatever other scary street rules he tosses at me as idle threats. (He's done this routinely for all the years I have known him, and it is somehow both pathetic and hilarious because he knows for a fact that, if I wanted, I could throttle him in less time than it would take for him to form a rational thought between his drug soaked braincells - I was also a person of less than savory character not too long ago and can handle myself very well. But I digress because I am losing my track of thought.

After the surgery I will have so damn much PT and rehab, all of which will be specific to varying parts of my body that will need to be reworked and strengthened. Weeks, months of it really. This surgery is major and hits heavy enough that I will be in the hospital for at least 10-14 days just recovering from it without taking into consideration any number of complications that could pop up. Hell, if they get in there and find a situation worse than they currently have an understanding of in the limited capacity of cardiology tech can provide of such a gnarled beastly heart and realize they can't really do anything with it after all, I'll be added to the transplant list. I think this is more daunting to consider than the surgery, honestly.

In that way that doctors have about them, I was "comforted" by being informed that this was an inevitability and I would have been faced with this in a matter of years - less than a handful actually - but the way COVID-19 chewed through me sped it up. I'm sure my years of substance issues were also very helpful in this endeavor, but either way I still am unsure whether I feel better knowing this or not? Mostly I think I feel conflicted and hopeful tempered with the caution of life being super shady in the ways it has often brought me to the doorsteps of dying in situations that seem like odd chance. I also am gifted with being so capable in jinxing myself that I brought myself to COVID-19 ("The way life is going I'll probably square up with Rona next week or some bullshit." Positive test flagged within the following week) and also into labor ("Watch me go into labor on Labor Day since that would be the sort of universal pun that would strike my bad penny having ass." Indeed hatched my youngling on Labor Day of that year) by saying some things within the scope of my bad humor that instantly manifested as reality so I'm not taking any risks here lol.

The gist is that life is really stirring up the winds over here and so I haven't been online and posting anything that would make my blog valid in a fat minute. I do apologize for this and also for the fact that this post took me nearly a week to type up, but when things calm a little I will be back in full. For the time being I will be sporadic and do what I can when I can!

Thanks to anyone that read this mess all the way here! And a big thank you to all of you still supporting me!

#racks chats #entirely too long and too personal

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glittercracker · 4 years ago

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Kingkiller Crap

So, I’ve never really posted much here that involves my own thoughts. There are a number of reasons why, but whatever. I feel the need NOW to post some thoughts, and having no working independent blog (yet!) I suppose this is the place to dump them. PSA: none of this is about anime. None of this is frivolous or fun. TW for sexual abuse. You have been warned! So. I’ve been rereading the Kingkiller Chronicles. aka “Name of the Wind” and “The Wise Man’s Fear” and “That Other One That Shall Not Be Named.” This reread was, at the beginning, almost an afterthought. A way to keep my 13 yo happy on a 7 hour car ride. Except, he could not have cared less, and I got sucked back into the story (and okay, if that is how all our audiobook car rides go, meh? At least it keeps me sharp!) I raced through book one, and bought book 2 on audible with an eye to my upcoming surgery and recooperation. Book one was problematic in the places I remembered, but also as generally engaging as I remembered. And then book 2 happened, and surgery happened, and I have had weeks to lie in bed listening to this bloody interminable sequel, and I find myself lost in a morass of, “WTF was I ever THINKING?” Namely, how did I ever love this book enough to pine for the next? It’s been hard to put a finger on exactly what is making this time through book 2 both a slog and also vaguely, creepily uncomfortable, but if you’re interested, my rather stream-of-consciousness ramble of thoughts ensues. First, the male gaze that rears its head at times in book 1 predominates here. But while I don’t love the way Kvothe describes women, I also have 2 degrees in literature, and I’m beyond that being a reason not to read an otherwise engaging book. Second, Kvothe is a Gary Stu, for all of Rothfuss’s protestations to the contrary. Again, so far, so much traditional high fantasy. But while, say, Aragorn is content to just quietly be Awesome At Everything, Kvothe is a braggy little shit of a Gary Stu: the person you hated for announcing their perfect scores in that hs class you could never quite master. I could fill several pages with examples, but for some reason what really made me want to kick him in the head was not Felurian’s disbelief of his virginity (though really, jfc, REALLY?) Nope, it was the end of his time w the Ademrae (sp may be off, remember, I’m listening not reading!) when he crows about having learned the history of his sword 2 days earlier than expected. Why does this stick out? Oh, idk. Maybe bc he sucks so hard he can’t even get past the first obstacle in his practical final exam? Yet he still has to tell us how fucking awesome he is for remembering 6000 names of previous owners.

I know, I’m supposed to forgive his teenage idiocy. The internet sympathists (no pun intended!) keep telling me this. And I suppose that I would, IF this were a simple first-person narrative - but it isn’t. Let’s repeat that, and really think about it. This story is being narrated by an older and presumably wiser Kvothe who has lost everything - whose abilities have been expunged to the extent that he can’t open his own chest of Cool Stuff. He shows humility in his actions, mostly. And yet when discussing his 16 yo self, the humility evaporates, and he speaks with no kind of perspective or lens of accrued wisdom. He still compares women to instruments waiting for the “right” player (i.e. him) and defends this choice of words by saying, essentially, “You aren’t a musician, you don’t know!”

Interesting assumption for an innkeeper in a medieval-esque world. Interesting assumption if this is in fact authorial interjection, too, because I suspect the majority of this book’s audience *are* musicians to at least an extent, and I also suspect that the majority of us (yes, us - I own several beloved instruments, including a harp custom made for me as a wedding present from my husband) would not equate a human lover to even the most beloved of instruments.

But all of this is well-trodden critical ground. As far as I can tell, though, my third issue isn’t: although it’s perhaps the most glaringly tone-deaf example of all of Rothfuss’s excruciatingly tone-deaf portrayal of his world’s women. Namely, the two girls kidnapped and gang-raped by the fake Ruh.

Almost all of the criticism I’ve read on this section of TWMF concentrates on Kvothe’s treatment of the girls’ abusers. What’s interesting is that no one ever seems to write about Kvothe’s treatment of the girls themselves. Yes, he treats them kindly. He tends their wounds, he feeds them, he tries (and succeeds, of course) to draw Ellie out of her shocked stupor.

Yet what he never once does, from the moment he takes control of the situation, is ask their opinions on any of this, including what their next step should be. He just decides to bring them back to their families - families who, in this type of society, might well disown them for being “ruined”. And the girls themselves, namely the intelligent and savvy Krin, seem to go blindly along with what he says. Why? Would Krin at least not question this, or object to his making decisions for her, when a group of men had so recently and brutally taken away all of her agency? Would she not question whether being brought back to her family is the best thing for the catatonic Ellie?

Okay, apparently not. So they return to their apparently very forgiving town. Kvothe stands up for the girls against the village shithead: thank you, Kvothe, bc I’m sure Krin could not have said those words herself. He assures the reader that they are with people who will love and care for them despite what has happened to them: thank you, Kvothe, though it’s stretching my credulity a bit that you would assume that no one will take issue with their deflowering. But then he “gifts” the girls the spoils of his slaughter: the horses, the valuables, the wagons. And I was about to give him a (grudging) pass for being decent about this, EXCEPT: he goes on to say that these goods are meant for the girls’ dowries. Specifically, to make them worth enough financially for potential husbands to overlook their loss of virginity. He even tells Krin not to settle for a less-than-lucrative marriage.

And suddenly, I was outraged. Why? Because a man who had witnessed the full extend of these women’s abuse brought them back to a backwater town believing that he was being magnanimous both in doing so, and in giving up whatever share he might have taken of the spoils of the debacle to make them financially lucrative marriage prospects. Because he never asked these traumatized girls if they might rather cut and run with the money than use it to make some man overlook their abuse in order to make them his property. He never even questions the idea that they will be grateful to submit to marriage contracts that will no doubt require them to have sex with their husbands, even though these women have been abused to the extent that they cannot sit a horse for *two days* after being rescued. And the worst part is that 20-something frame-story Kvothe doesn’t question this either; he just goes on to gloat about people singing songs about his daring rescue. Maybe I was just ready for a straw to break my benefit of the doubt. Or maybe this really is as outrageous as it feels. Either way, I can’t help being angry at Rothfuss. As a writer, I am very well aware that character and author are not the same thing; that authorial intent is not the same as authorial beliefs. But there are moments in some books when I have to wonder if that line is blurring, and this is one of them. Kvothe has literally JUST left a female-dominated country full of independent women happily doing their own thing. He has given these girls the means to find themselves a situation that will never require them to be beholden to a man again - even houses ffs, in the shape of those 2 wagons, should they want them. There are so many options beyond marriage: I can’t, for instance, think of a medieval society that didn’t have its version of a convent. Or, for Krin at least, why not the University? For that matter, why not marry her himself, and then set her free to do as she likes under the awning of a respectable marriage?

Instead he returns them to their fathers, and likewise gives their fathers the means to marry them off with no argument. Who, after all, holds the reins of the horses at the end? Why does Kvothe assume that these families will actually use the wealth even in the dubious way that he recommends?

And in this, I think, I am justified in giving Rothfuss the stink-eye. This is one more instance for Kvothe to play the hero with no real attention given to the consequences. Kvothe himself, I think, would be appalled. He has suffered so much deprivation in his life, so often been marginalized, scapegoated, powerless, how on earth could he so easily consign others to that fate? How could he think, loving Denna as he does, having heard her words to the beaten girl in Severin, that buying these girls husbands who will “overlook” their abuse for the sake of wealth is anything but a wretched life sentence for them?

Sigh. There was a time when I desperate awaited book three. Now, given the other women’s lives at stake in this series, I’m not so sure I want to know.

#kingkiller chronicle #kvothe #patrick rothfuss #wise man's fear #Kingkiller chronicles sexism #kvothe gary stu #kkc sexism

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stylesgalaxy · 6 years ago

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mastermind; chapter 3

A car zips past me as I run across the street. I ignore it's angry honk and push through the doors to the art shop. It was a bit far from the campus and in the side of town I wasn't very familiar with. Julia and I lived in the opposite side. But I heard from a classmate that this one has the best prices.

A chime rings when I open the door but no one is at the counter to greet me. I don't mind, I start looking for what I need quickly. My calligraphy prints were not satisfactory, apparently, but the professor was letting me resubmit them. I look down the shelf against the wall but it's all canvases. I walk further into the store to check out the other aisles.

"Can I help you?" a voice startles me. I scream and turn around, holding my hand to my chest. The boy in front of me has a very handsome, very familiar face. His dark hair falls in strands over his light brown eyes, almost making me swoon.

"Hi," I say uncertainly. Zayn happened to be an art major as well, I've seen him a few times in big lectures but we've never had any classes together.

"I know you..." he says with a light smile. "You're that hot girl's friend. Julia?"

"Yes," I sigh. I'm the hot girl's friend.

"I'm Zayn, what's your name again?"

I didn't expect him to remember my name, he was very drunk and we only spoke once before I gave Julia the green light. I don't remember why I liked him so much.

"I'm Aria," I answer.

"Ah, nice name. What is it your looking for? I can help you," he says with a polite smile.

"You work here?" I ask in surprise.

He nods.

"I'm looking for ink, silver if you have."

"RIght this way."

Zayn leads me through the store to where they keep the calligraphy supplies and the Windsor & Newton inks. I'm pleasantly surprised to find that it's $2.50 for a bottle and immediately begin hoarding every colour I like. Zayn finds this hilarious, I make him show me the pens. I choose a thin-tipped one that he says is better quality than the other brands. I'm completely immersed in this shop and every thing they have because for once, I can afford these things.

It's been a good two hours before I walk up to the register to cash out. I didn't even notice how much time had gone by because Zayn was so easy to talk to and actually quite funny.

"And your total is... $84.76," he says after ringing up every thing. I happily pull out my credit card to pay. I couldn't believe how much I got for $84. "I trust I'll be seeing you soon?" he chuckles. "I mean if there's anything left for you to buy."

"Don't be silly, of course there is!" I answer. "I have to build a sculpture for one of my assignments, I'm going to be back."

"For Lennard's class?"

"Yeah, you have him too?"

"Wednesday afternoon," he smiles. "Odd guy, isn't he?"

"Oh, no doubt. What are you building for your sculpture?"

"My Patronus," he says after some hesitation.

"What's your Patronus?"

"You can find out when I finish it," he chuckles and starts moving things around his table. I take this as a sign that he doesn't want to talk about it so I leave.

"Whatever, weirdo, let me know if the Tombows go on sale," I say walking towards the door with my big bags.

"Will do! Do you need help?"

"I'm good, thanks. Bye!" I shout through my arms, struggling to open the door.

The buses hate me, as usual, so it takes me about an hour to travel back home. I have one bag in my left hand, and I'm holding my other bag with the huge papers to my chest with my right hand, all while my purse starts slipping off my shoulder. I knock hoping Julia is home and can open the door for me because I can't be bothered to fish out my keys right now.

I hear sounds of scrambling coming from inside and then Harry opens the door for me. I'm confused before I take in his messed up hair and shirt thats inside out. Behind him I see Julia on the couch, hastily arranging her hair to appear normal. I try not to make it obvious that I've noticed Harry's very apparent bulge and fly undone because I can see how discreet he's trying to be about it.

"Hey," Harry croaks. "Do you want me to help you with those?" he nods to the bag I'm carrying. I give him a tight smile.

"No, thanks," I say. I walk around him, careful to keep to not touch him and take my shoes off. "Hey, Jules," I greet her, without making eye contact, as I walk straight to my room. "I'm gonna be working on my assignment, don't mind me. You guys can... carry on or whatever... I don't know." My face heats up in embarrassment. Why am I so awkward?

I shut my door tightly and hope it didn't seem like I slammed it. Because if it looks like I slammed it then it looks like I'm mad, and if it looks like I'm mad that they were getting frisky, it's obvious that I have a thing for Harry. And if either of them realize that, it wouldn't be hard to understand why I act the way I do around Harry. I don't want to destroy the good progress we've made in our friendship this past week.

I sigh deeply and then grab a more comfortable change of clothes from my closet. My desk is already cleared up, ready for me to make my prints. Obviously, I practise on normal paper with my new pens and inks before pulling out the fancy sheets and cutting them in a neatly so they're letter sized. I'm nervous to start the first print but I get over it quickly. If I mess up this sheet, I have more but if I mess those up too, then I'm fucked because I have to submit eight prints tomorrow morning, and I'm not submitting them on two types of paper.

I think about Zayn for a few minutes while I work. Over the past two years I'd seen him around a few times because we were in the same program, but the mysterious and broody vibes that he gave off intimidated me from ever speaking to him. He was also very quiet. That has to be why Julia lost interest in him, because with a face like his there is no other reason I can imagine why she wouldn't want him. He spoke a lot to me today though. I figured that's because he was in a place he was familiar in and he sort of knew me. I can see us being friends in the future.

I didn't make any new friends during orientation in first year, so when Julia started dating Harry several weeks later, we both became acquainted with Louis and Niall and they're now my only other friends. I'm grateful for them since they let me go bar-hopping with them when Julia refused to because her and Harry preferred to just stay home together. And they were really fun too. They liked to make fun of Harry and Julia as if they're an old married couple, and their impressions are really funny when I'm drunk.

However, it'd also be nice to have an artist friend. I already wish I had gotten Zayn's number. Not to go out with him, but to have someone to talk to about my art.

I'm nearly done one print when a knock sounds at my door a couple hours later.

"Come in," I say, surprised that for once Julia learned how to knock.

"Hey," she says slowly. She shuts the door and cautiously sits on my bed. I don't turn my chair around to face her, I just keep working. "Harry just left and I wanted to say sorry about what you saw earlier."

My face heats up again.

"Don't worry about it. It's cool," I assure her.

"Okay, good, I just felt bad because I know you don't like it when—"

"Did you have sex on the couch?"

"We-what?"

"Did you have sex on the couch?" I repeat calmly.

"No, we didn't. We-uh... no. Not on the couch."

"Good, just remember the couch is off limits for sex. I don't care about whatever else you do," I say nonchalantly. "Wait, the entire living room and kitchen as well. Though I'm sure you knew that already."

"Okay," she whispers. I'm not sure why Julia is talking about this with me so delicately when she's never hesitated to go into very descriptive details about their sex life before. But then again, Julia conjures many strange explanations in that brain of hers, so she's probably labelled me off as a scared prude or something.

"Um, this isn't going to change how you act around Harry, is it?" she mumbles.

I look at her in confusion.

"What? No. Why would it? I knew you two were having sex," I roll my eyes at her. Honestly, just because I haven't done the deed doesn't mean I don't know about it. And like I said, she went into very descriptive details about their sex before.

"I know, but you've never seen us like that before. I just hope nothing traumatized you."

Harry's bulge flashes in my mind and I curse Julia for bringing it up.

"I don't know what your talking about, I didn't see anything," I lie.

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Really. And besides, it was clothed so it wasn't like I actually saw his dick."

"Wait what?" Julia exclaims.

"What?" I respond trying to pretend like I didn't just say what I said.

"You saw his clothed dick?" Julia stares at me, wide-eyed.

"What? No, I didn't. He has a dick?"

Julia and I stare at each other for a few seconds, before we both burst into laughter.

"Oh, God, never tell him that! He was trying to hide it so bad!" she giggles.

"I wasn't planning on it!" I wave my arms around like it was obvious. She falls into another fit of giggles.

"Moving on," I say, "you'll never guess who I met today."

"Who?"

"Remember that guy I approved of for you at that party during orientation in first year? Zayn?"

"Oh my God, I remember him! He was so hot!"

"Was? He still is!"

"Get it, Aria!" she chirps. I roll my eyes.

"He works at the art shop on the other side of the town."

"That's hot."

"Tell me about it," I smirk. "I think I'm gonna go see him again soon."

Julia and I ended up talking for an hour about Zayn and other guys she's dated. For the first time in ages, my mind was completely off Harry and it felt nice to talk to my best friend about boys. We were like young teenagers again, scheming ways to lure Zayn in and planning potential future dates. I hadn't even thought about him like that until I started speaking to Julia.

It was time I moved on from Harry.

---

I accidentally tip my travel mug over trying to pour hot coffee in it and nearly burn myself. Oh fuck. Now there was coffee all over the kitchen counter and floor and none in my mug.

I quickly throw a bunch of paper towels on the tile floor to mop it up and then inspect the counter. My eyes widen when I notice the coffee seeping into the coffee machine. I shut it off immediately and unplug it from power before it explodes or something. I'm not sure how easily electrical appliances catch fire, but I didn't want to risk burning my apartment down today.

I know I can't leave this mess like this, Julia will have my head. Quickly throwing paper towels on the tile floor and the counter, I decide that if I leave right now and run, I can make it to Starbucks to grab a coffee before my class starts. So I messily mop up the mess, wash my hands and run out with my purse. I put my jacket on in the elevator and hold the folder with my new prints in my mouth.

I was up all night last night after Julia and I were finished talking about Zayn. Hence why the coffee is so important. I woke up thirty minutes ago after I fell asleep for an hour and took the fastest shower then failed to make coffee. At least my calligraphy prints were all done and ready. I'm really glad Zayn sold me the fancy paper because it makes the calligraphy look so much more elegant and old fashioned, and the silver ink enhanced it as well. All in all, I'm pretty proud of them.

It was twenty to nine which meant the campus was full of students milling around and slowly making their way to class. There were a few maniacs running around like headless chickens (me) while also texting their roommates to warn them not to use the coffee machine. I was dodging people like a bullet and nearly made it to the Starbucks when I remembered I should have mobile ordered because the line up looks so long. Just as I was about to pull to a stop in front of the store, someone bumps into me harshly and a coffee drops to the ground and my folder slips from my hand.

"Shit!" Niall yells and the same time I let out a horrified scream. Three of my prints landed in Niall's spilled coffee.

"My prints!" I shout, dropping to my knees.

"Aria, shit, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you, oh fuck are they ruined?" Niall starts blabbering.

My hands shake and as I reach out to grab one. It was then I noticed that thankfully I had enough functioning braincells before I slept to remember to put them in individual sheet protectors. The coffee touched the plastic on the outside but the prints themselves were safe.

"They're in sheet protectors, they're okay!" I hear Harry's voice. I look up meeting his gaze. I hadn't even noticed him standing next to Niall with a Starbucks coffee of his own. He bends down in front of me, pulling out napkins from his pocket and starts to gently wipe at the coffee. It comes off clean and leaves my assignment looking just as it had before. "See? Completely fine," he confirms gently. I let out a sigh of relief. I was so scared for a moment.

"You were so smart for putting them in plastic sheet protectors," Niall comments.

"Thank fuck," I grunt. I grab a napkin from Harry and help him. He stops and stares at the print he was holding.

"You made this?" he asks, as if it just occurred to him. I nod. "Shit, this is so good, Aria."

I blush and thank him. I'd love to hear him compliment my work, but I'm sad because I have to go to class coffee-less now.

"'No legacy is so rich as honesty'," he reads. "Is that Rupi Kaur?"

"No!" I scoff. "It's Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare is shite," Niall says.

"Shakespeare is one of the greatest writers in history!" I argue defensively.

"This is beautiful," Harry continues, ignoring Niall and I. I gather the prints in my folder and stand up, the boys follow suit. "'If music be the food of love, play on' I know that one!"

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Niall and Harry were pouring over my prints and to be honest, after staying up all night to make them perfect, it felt nice to have them say it was good.

"'You have witchcraft in your lips'," Harry drawls out slowly. He bits his lip. "Can I have this? I quite like this one," he says.

"No," I quip and pull it away, gently placing them back in the folder. "I have to submit them in..." I check my phone for the time. 8:51. "Nine minutes."

I pull my purse back over my shoulder and try not to meet his gaze.

"What's the drink you got there?" I ask nodding at his coffee cup.

"Uh, a Blonde Hazelnut latte—"

"Great, thanks," I say grabbing his coffee and walking away with it. "Bye, guys, see you later!" I wave at them and smirk at Harry's indignant expression. I bring his coffee to my lips and take a sip.

---

It's been a couple weeks since I sort of walked in on Harry and Julia. They're more cautious about getting horny when I'm in the room now. And because of what I promised, I'm with them a lot. They love to watch TV together, which I don't understand. I mean I understand watching TV or binge-watching Netflix, but it seems like it's all they do. When they're not in the bedroom, or eating, they're in front of the television. How they get their work done is beyond me.

"We're watching Say Yes to the Dress, wanna join?" Julia asks me one night after I get back from work.

"Don't you guys have homework?" I question.

"We've done it already."

Probably forgot to mention that they're also both business majors, so they have some classes together.

"We have a four hour break on Fridays together, that's when we do all of our schoolwork."

They must be some next-level geniuses, because it takes me ten hours to do one assignment. I couldn't help but also feel like I lacked the security they had regarding their future jobs. Both of their father's were rich businessmen, and both of them were extremely smart. Whether they passed with a 4.0 GPA or a 2.8, they were still going to get a job with their parents and do really well. I had no idea what I was going to do when I graduated.

What did one do with a degree in Fine Arts?

These are the thoughts that plagued me some nights. What was I going to do with my degree? It cost a lot of money to even come here to this university, it was only going to double up after I graduate and try to pay it off. I'm going to spend my whole life looking for temporary jobs to pay me enough so I can pay off my student debts. I could sell paintings, but it would take years to make a name for myself that will make me successful. I could try getting my work into a gallery, but the people who get their works in galleries spend years pouring their heart and soul into their pieces. That's going to take time, and time is money—which I don't have.

I remember being just as lost in high school. Julia applied to this university and convinced me to apply as well. She dragged me to uni fairs to learn more about my program and forced pamphlets in my hands until I was in love with the campus and program enough to apply for it. And I do love it, I got to meet great people and I'm learning amazing things. I was also good enough to get in so that has to count for something, right?

"What are you going to do after you graduate?" I asked Zayn one day. He was showing me sculpting supplies when I randomly blurt this out.

"Uh," he drags out for a few seconds. His eyebrows scrunch in deep thought, but I know he thinks about this a lot too. "I guess, I'm just gonna see where life takes me."

"And that helps you sleep at night?"

"Well, no," he chuckles. "I mean... I kind of like tattooing... I thought I might work at a tattoo parlour. Or do comic book illustrations."

Tattoo parlour. Comic book illustrations.

That's a good answer. That's the perfect answer for Zayn. He has an idea, he has his himself figured out.

"What do you want to do?" he inquires.

"I don't know," I mumble.

"How about I open up my own tattoo shop and you can draw my designs for me while I draw comic books?" he suggests.

I grin at his attempt to cheer me up, and nod.

"Sure, sound's brilliant."

---

Satisfactory work on the prototype. Visually, it's pleasing. Conceptually, it doesn't really make sense. Ask yourself: what is the meaning behind this piece? How do the elements you use embody that? Why did you choose the medium you chose? And remember you don't only have to use one. It would help you to open your mind more.

I growl in frustration and slam my laptop shut. I thought this week couldn't get any worse but the feedback from my sculpture prototype was the cherry on top of the cake. I knew my idea of a dancing ballerina was sub par but I hoped that if I made it look pretty, the professor would just accept it.

Stupid art teachers. They always have to get to deep and meaningful.

I can't help but compare myself to Zayn. Zayn knows what he's making for his sculpture—his Patronus, his spirit animal. That's meaningful. He knows what he wants to do in the future, he's talented, he can get there. He isn't lacking anything.

Angry tears prick my eyes and my fingers close into fists. I lost my touch. I know it. When I came into this university, I was full of fresh ideas. Now I was just drained. All my work was being handed back to me because it wasn't good enough and I had enough. I stared at the stupid cardboard ballerina model then threw it against my wall. It bounced back which gave me no satisfaction, so I picked it up and tore it to pieces, screaming.

The door to my room burst open suddenly, and Harry barged in.

"Aria?!" he took in my state, then the torn cardboard in my hands. "What happened, what did you do?" He walks into my room, completely ignoring the death glare I'm sending him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" I scream. He was the last person I wanted to see me like this, and I had no energy to be careful around him.

Harry's eyes widen and he stares at me in shock, then apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I-I came to see Julia, but she's not here yet," he explains. I roll my eyes and turn away from him. Of fucking course. I forgot Julia had given Harry keys to our apartment. Ever since he got them, he'd been visiting more often.

"She went out with her father," my voice comes out scratchy and monotone.

"Her father—?"

"Yes. His personal assistant came to pick her up an hour ago."

"Oh okay," he says quietly, still standing in my room. I turn to look at him expectantly, but he just stares back at me like a doe with green eyes. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"Like what?" Fury drips from my voice. I don't know why it angers me so much. Who is he to know what I'm like?

"Like-like this! All crying and stuff."

"Well, I want you to leave!"

"No," he says quietly and shakes his head.

"Leave!"

He stays rooted and even has the audacity to fold his arms across his chest.

"This is my house and I demand that you leave!"

He bends down to pick up the torn pieces of cardboard. I huff and sit down on my bed, my face in my hands. I can see Harry trying to arranged the pieces back together like a puzzle to fix it. My heart strings pull at his actions. He's trying to be helpful and here I am, being a bitch to him again.

"Leave it, it's not important anymore. I already got my mark and feedback," I mutter. He gently sets the pieces down then moves up closer on the ground so he's kneeling in front of me.

"What happened? Did they say there was something wrong with it?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's useless, it's not good enough," I scoff. Harry immediately shakes his head.

"Don't say that—"

"It's true, Harry! It looks pretty but-but that's not good enough."

"What is 'good enough'?"

My throat constricts and my eyes well up in tears again. I shake my head, not being about to speak of my failure. Harry carefully grabs my hands and looks into my eyes. My heart beats faster at the feel of his soft hands over mine.

"Come, I'll make you some tea. Relax a bit, and we'll figure something out," he suggests.

"Harry, no," I say weakly. Despite my distressed state, I know I probably shouldn't be spending time with Harry like this, especially with Julia not here. But when he insists and pulls me up to my feet, I am unable to refuse him.

Harry sits me down at the small table in the kitchen and swiftly moves around to make tea.

"You've never had my tea before, no?" he inquires. I shake my head not even realizing that his back is to me so he won't see. "You're going to love it, everyone loves my tea. It's probably the best in the country."

A small laugh escapes my mouth. Harry whips his head back, an accomplished smile on his face.

"I doubt that," I say eventually. His face brightens even more at my response.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

He gives it a final stir, sets the spoon down on the counter, then places the steaming mug carefully in front of me. I look at the light brown liquid expressionless.

"It's Earl Grey," he says quickly. When I still make no move to pick it up he says, "that's all you guys have here, I assumed you like Earl Grey."

"Oh, I love Earl Grey," I start. Harry smiles in relief. "I hate milk, though."

His smile drops.

"Fuck," he says under his breath. He slowly drags the mug to his side. "Well... this was mine actually," he reasons, "all along." He turns around to grab a new mug.

"Oh," I play along. "See, I thought it was for me, 'cause you put right in front of me."

"No, no," he wags a finger. "That was a trick, and you fell for it. I made you think that was for you, to throw you off. I knew you hated milk all along."

I try to contain my laughter because I know he wins if I do, but I can't help it. His endearing behaviour is making me smile. His eyes sparkle at the sound of my laughter, and I am in awe at how quickly he was able to brighten my mood.

"I take sugar in my tea sometimes," he says. "I know that you..." he narrows his eyes at me and I give a small shake of my head, "don't take sugar in yours... which is why I'm not putting any in here." He places the second mug of plain black tea in front of me. I blow on it a bit to cool it then take a sip, it tastes just as ordinary as I always take my tea.

"Mmm, this truly is the best tea I've ever had," I say sarcastically.

"Told you," he grins.

Harry sits across from me and tells jokes and a few anecdotes to help me relax. Within a half hour, I'm in stitches and I've completely forgotten about my breakdown.

He finishes another story and I'm laughing harder than I have in a while. Tears of mirth slip down my face, and I wipe them away with my sleeve. I've quietened down and look to see Harry staring at me with a content smile.

"I think that's the first time I've seen you really, truly laughing around me," he says. I catch the happy glint in his eye that makes me long for endless moments like this.

"Well, I'm not like this with everyone, considered yourself special," I joke. His forehead furrows and he turns the tiniest bit serious.

"Of course, I consider it an honour to even call you my friend, Aria Collins," he declares. I search for any hint of teasing in his eyes, but I find none. I gulp and smile shakily.

His hand moves up a bit on the table and for a moment my heart stops, but his hand doesn't come any closer to mine.

"Do you wanna talk about your feedback now?" he asks gently. I sigh deeply. I know there's no escaping it so might as well get it over with now.

"My prof doesn't think it's good enough. He said it's lacking conceptually and I need to be more open minded."

He looks at me blankly. I know Harry is at a loss when it comes to art because it's not his forte, but I'm pleasantly surprised when he pushes himself to keep trying.

"What was the idea you had for the ballerina?" he asks.

"It was just a ballerina. I was fascinated with ballet when I first came up with the idea. I just thought they were cool."

He nods and thinks.

"You should make something related to you," he offers.

"But what? And how?"

"You know... and before I start, forgive me, 'cause I don't know much about art and things—"

"It's okay."

"Um, I'm taking a Greek Mythology elective this semester." I tilt my head, not expect this. "D'you know who you remind me of a lot?"

"Who?"

"Artemis."

My jaw drops.

"You're very independent like she is," he continues. "It's hard to impress Artemis, and it's hard to impress you. She's sworn to never marry—and I know you haven't but you've obviously prioritized other things before relationships. She's very, like, determined and dedicated to her work which you clearly are as well..."

Harry begins to falter and trails off awkwardly. Eager for him to feel just as comfortable as he's always made sure I felt, I'm quick to answer.

"Artemis is my favourite goddess," I tell him. His eyes meet mine.

"Really?"

I nod.

"Who's your favourite god?" he follows up.

"Apollo," I smile. Harry laughs.

"No way! He's my favourite, too!" He blinks owlishly at me. "Why don't you do something Artemis-like for your sculpture. Or Apollo-like."

I try to think of how I could twist this Artemis idea and make my sculpture about me. I absent-mindedly tug at my sleeves and bite my lip in concentration.

"You know..." Harry starts again and I inwardly smile because I know he had an idea from the beginning but he doesn't want to be too forward. "Every god and goddess has a sacred animal."

I vaguely remember reading something like that.

"What's Artemis'?" I ask.

"A deer."

A deer. Huh.

"Deer symbolize things like adventure, cautiousness, individuality..." Harry continues. I raise my eyebrows. He nods, "Sounds like someone in this room."

I crack a smile.

"I like that idea," I say truthfully. "I think I can work with that."

"What else did your prof say?"

"He told me to be more open-minded and not use only one medium or something like that..."

"What's your medium?"

"Well a medium is the physical thing you use to show your art. I was going to use clay for my sculpture."

"So he wants you to use more than clay?"

I nod. Harry looks at me like he has an idea but he doesn't share.

"How about we let this idea cook for a bit, and with time you'll think of a something."

"Okay," I agree, feeling the exhaustion of the night. I got pretty far with the deer idea anyway. "Sounds good." I get up to put away our mugs, and when I turn around Harry put his shoes on.

"I should probably leave now," he mumbles, slipping his arms through his jacket. I nod.

"Thanks, Harry," I say sincerely. "I'm glad you didn't leave, you... you helped me a lot today. I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you."

He smiles wide.

"It's no problem," he says, his hands tucked into his pockets. I surprise both of us by moving forward and wrapping my arms around his torso. He stands shocked for a moment, and then slowly rests his arms around me too. I hug him tightly, trying and failing to not pour all my emotions out. His hand rubs up and down my back. I inhale his scent. I don't want this moment to end.

Eventually, I pull away before it gets awkward. Though I don't think Harry would ever allow me to feel awkward in his presence. I fold my arms together, determined to not look shy but Harry sees right through me and snickers. He opens the door and steps out, waving goodbye.

***

There’s chapter 3! Let me know what you thought :) Also I probably should mention Aria rolls her eyes a lot. Like A LOT alot, it’s gonna get annoying I know but that’s how she is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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ah17hh · 4 years ago

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I have absolutely no idea what to do via /r/polyamory

I have absolutely no idea what to do

I've been with my NP (Adam) for 7+ years, non-mono from the start and poly for 6+ of them, and was with my other serious bf (Jay) for 3+, much of which he functionally lived here as well.

My relationship with Jay has been tumultuous from the start, to say the least. Neither of us is super emotionally stable, he's an alcoholic (and a really nasty drunk), and I have a history of dating abusive drunks, and the PTSD to show for it. We were amazing together, except when we were a toxic mess, which was becoming more and more frequently as he tried (unsuccesfully) to stay sober. He crossed the line into full-on abusive one too many times, and I finally ended things for good. It sucks, because if he ever could have been happily sober we were amazing together, but at this point I'm done done.

Adam and I are complicated. We are best friends, wonderful roommates, and definitely family. We click intellectually, and share a lot of ethics and a weird sense of humor. He is, since my mom died, basically my only real family. The problem is that on other levels we absolutely don't click. Sex with us has always been complicated. Its good, but the chemistry isn't there for me, and nor can he seem to figure out how to navigate actually turning me on, despite effort on both ends. I'm extremely sexually driven, and while he isn't quite as extreme he is pretty sexual as well. I also have a pretty crazy, and fairly traumatic, past life that is a million miles away from anything he has any point of reference for. He knows, but on a very fundamental level he is never going to get that part of me. He has buried 2 elderly grandparents, and an sick uncle. I've buried virtually everyone I grew up with except for 2 friends, including most of my old loves, one of them my first real love, and all of them either by violence, suicide, or overdose, excluding my mom (that was surprise cancer). In some ways he is the center of my world, in other ways he is a million miles away. He has also been in a depressive funk that has gotten progressively worse over the past 4+ years, and has done virtually nothing about it. When he isn't at work (at whichever shitty job he currently hates, and he quits and repeats the cycle) he's a stoned lump on the couch. I'm not unempathetic, I have type II bipolar that I manage without meds, so I know depressive apathy all too well. We have absolutely opposite ways of reacting to it though. My bipolar was early onset, and I've been fighting that black hole for my life for basically my entire adult life. I will tear my life apart if I have to for the dopamine kick to break out of that gravitational field. He wallows in it. It probably doesn't help that his baseline personality is very laid back, and fairly unambitious, where as mine is the polar opposite. At our best we balance one another out nicely. At our worst I'm a whirlwind of chaos and emotion that he can't find his footing while navigating, and he's a black hole of apathy that slowly sucks me into its gravity.

For the past 3 years the things I really need that weren't there with Adam I was getting from Jay, and it kind of worked. I still needed them with Jay, especially a willingness to actually do things together, and we have had the talk many times, but the best he has right now is a grudging willingness to come along for the ride. A lot of the things I love most, like travel and the outdoors, he enjoys occasionally in small doses, but thats it. I knew that to an extent my relationship with Jay was also (poorly) patching widening holes in my relationship with Adam, and they both knew it too.

It felt like my life was on pause waiting for Jay to get his shit together, and now that that's done its become painfully obvious how much its still on hold, either waiting for Adam to do the same, or trying to drag him along or carry him. I still don't feel like I have an actual equal partner in most regards, be it financially, or socially, or emotionally. I don't want to lose Adam, because I do love him to death, but I can't keep doing what I'm doing now, and changing this is going to go beyond having this conversation for the 500th time.

A month ago I met a guy halfway across the country (somewhere I have always wanted to live) on tinder. We made a ridiculously inpulsive plan for me to come visit for 10 days, and 2 weeks to the day after we started talking I was on the plane (no, I'm not in the US). Should have gone horribly, right? The guy is everything I didn't even know I needed, and everything I want. The guy also is decidedly not poly, though how that will play out with my being poly remains to be seen. We have, bizarrely, mostly avoided the subject. What was supposed to be...I don't know what it was supposed to be, but it turned into him coming here a month from when I left, then me flying out again, and us talking about my moving in.

I don't need to make a decision now, but it feels like I do. And the decision isn't even so much this guy, its leaving to pursue some long-paused dreams, to live in my dream place, to snap out of this haze I've been stuck in. The guy is kind of the icing on the cake (I think). My NP would be fine with me living there 50/50, and its actually potentially viable work-wise, but I don't know if that would work with the guy, or for me. I should add on that I am having a horrible time with the LD thing, especially in a new relationship that I am way over invested in for the duration. I've done the NRE crazy many times before though, and I have never felt like this about someone. Its not the giddy he's perfect NRE, its the feeling I had when I started my career, the one that actually fit me like this was what I was made for. I know what sucks about him, I know whats going to bother me, I know he isn't my all-inclusive ticket to unending happiness. But fuck, for the first time in my life I can see how forever might actually look without drowning in existential dread. This feels like a chance I can't pass up, and it also feels like I shouldn't be trusting my own decision-making with everything that is going on, but shit is always going on. I feel like I've been stuck in place because nothing ever feels stable enough to make big decisions, or big changes, like I never feel stable enough, because I am miserable because I'm stuck.

If you made it this far, thank you. I don't know what I'm looking for, besides outside feedback, and a sounding board. What should I be asking myself? What am I missing? How do you know if its a stupid time to make a decision because you're frustrated and miserable, or if you absolutely need to make a decision because you're frustrated and miserable? I think I know what I need to do, but I'm terrified to trust myself (a lifetime of having every decision you make framed as a symptom, and of having to second guess every decision in case it really is a symptom, will do that). I am, for what it's worth, stable mental health-wise at the moment.

Submitted August 17, 2020 at 05:51PM by Missscarlettheharlot via reddit https://ift.tt/3iMAkUr

#IFTTT #reddit

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