#the nearest city is 30 minutes away by car but there's no clubs there either just a few nice bars and cafés

[clamorybus]

it's literally such a nothing issue, but i think that's why that night club poll from last night struck a nerve. like, people don't avoid clubs and fancy restaurants because they're boring, they either can't or just have no interest in it

[catherine-parr-1512]

SixVengers - The Beginning (Fic 1) Chapter 6

@kenneth.mark.82 Mark Keeneth

Who would have thought that London might be destroyed tomorrow lol

13 replies 20 retweets 2031 likes

@spider_woman_fan_club Spider-Woman Fan Club

England is about to get destroyed and all I can think of is Spider-Woman flying today through London, looking good as always :/

303 replies 1025 retweets 70K likes

@superheronewsuk Super Hero News UK Official

BREAKING NEWS:

The City of London and surrounding areas are evacuated due to the upcoming Alien invasion that will hit London. The Prime Minister will release an official statement at 7 p.m. about the situation but unofficial sources claim that British heroes were asked to defend London.

20K replies 32K retweets 801K likes

Katherine closed Twitter and looked outside the window. She was in a car with Agent Blount and Anna on their way towards Parr Tower. It was decided after the meeting, and once everyone had cooled down, that the best thing for the team was to stay the night together and the best place for it would be Parr Industries Headquarters in central London. This meant that if by some chance, the attacks started earlier, the group of heroes would be able to get there faster than if they were travelling from their homes, most of them being on the edges of the city.

To pass time through travelling through central London, she was on her phone like any normal teenager would be and she was surprised that people didn't freak out that much. Kat knew that, that would change when the attack would take place.

After travelling for 30 minutes through busy streets of London, the cars containing the heroes and three agents *kidnappers* thought Katherine, finally arrived at Parr Tower, where they would spend the night getting to know the other members of the team and getting ready to fight Henry.

The three of them left the car and met up with Parr, Boleyn and Lee who arrived just a minute before. The group were joined by Aragon, Seymour and Salinas after a short while, the trio arriving last. The nine women made their way inside the tower and Katherine was impressed, to say the least. Whoever designed the building had taste. It was modern and white with blue accents. Very tasteful and minimalistic.

Kat could see many people walking around, minding their own or company businesses, nobody paying attention to the large group of women that had just entered. One of the security guards approached Parr and whispered something to which she nodded and led them towards a large elevator on the left side of the entrance, bypassing the security. It was fortunately large enough to fit all of them comfortably. The door closed but nobody clicked any buttons.

“BRIAN? Please take us to floor 80.” Said Catherine and everyone looked around, not seeing who this Brian was. However, all of them jumped when she got a reply.

“Of course Miss Parr, right away. I will also put the light on and adjust the temperature.” Said the robotic voice from inside the elevator and quickly started moving upwards.

“I presume it was some sort of computer?” Asked Anne awkwardly, not knowing what to say about the whole situation. “But that’s just my observation.”

“Actually, it’s an AI, fully functional and capable of thinking for himself,” Parr said with a small, proud smile. “I named him after my uncle who took care of my brother and I after our parents died.”

“That’s sentimental.” Smiled Seymour and the whole elevator went back to a (somehow) comfortable silence until the elevator stopped with a ping.

The door opened to show a large living room. It had a see-through wall on the opposite side of the elevator. Along that wall was a row of white, comfortable-looking couches and chairs. The walls were painted a light sky blue and grey, giving the whole room a calming look.

“Whoa, this looks nice, Parr. What a nice room to greet your guests. It’s very… you.” Joked Anne, jumping on the nearest couch, and putting her legs on the coffee table.

“I think it’s just parrfect.” Said Seymour and everyone looked towards her weirdly. “Sorry, I was trying to make a pun.” She chuckled to herself.

“I heard that you were a comedian but I don’t understand how anyone would laugh at that.” Replied Anne, earning a chuckle from both Katherine and Anna. However she also received a stern look from 3 Agents in the room - Salinas, Aragon and Lee - and a sad puppy look from Seymour. Parr and Blount just shook their heads.

“If most of you stopped behaving like children, I would like to point out that it’s my living room that most of my guests never see so be grateful,” Catherine said before anyone could say anything else. “This is one of my 3 personal floors so please don’t wreck it too much. I still want to spend time in my living room without it being destroyed… again.”

“What do you mean again? Did a group of women with some sort of abilities destroy it before?” Asked Bessie, sitting down on a nearby couch next to Anna and Katherine.

“Nope. It was BRIAN and me. Well, I mean he was in one of the suits and I was in another. We had a mock fight in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep which definitely wasn’t my greatest idea. We ripped a huge hole in the ceiling.”

“Now I want to see you do it again if I’m being honest.” Said Anne.

“I’ll bring popcorn for the entertainment.” Added Anna and the two of them high fived each other in the air from a distance.

“I think we should pick someone to be your leader for the mission. While Director Meutas will be controlling the whole operation from the TOWER along with many agents, there will have to be one of you making sure that everything out there on the field is going okay. It will be just the six of you. Military and a few agents will help you but they will mostly have to make sure that any civilians in the city will be safe.” Stated Salinas as an unofficial leader of Agents (other than Aragon)

The heroes looked between each other, silently debating the choice.

“Well, I am underage so I’m out” Said Katherine with a smug smile.

“I have anger issues that count me out as a reliable leader.” Added Anne, smirking slightly.

“Don’t look at me, I can barely look after myself to make sure that I don’t accidentally die. No positions of power for me, hey!” Laughed Anna, getting comfortable on her couch.

The remaining three women looked around, each looking at the other two women in silence.

“I think each one of us would be a good leader…” Said Jane, looking at Aragon and Parr, meeting their eyes. “However, as the oldest person here, I think I have the most experience in this type of job. Let us also not forget that I was and still am a Captain in British Army.”

“Sorry? You were frozen in ice for 70 years. I think that means you still are as young as you were back then, Seymour. I, on the other hand, am an agent in a secret government agency who knows how London works and I know this city.” Countered Aragon jumping towards Seymour, looking straight into her eyes.

“Really? Everything you do is being told to you. I led men into a battle and we won. You don’t have that experience, Aragon.”

“Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m not sure if being in the freezer for so long damaged your vision, but we are not men. We are women and we need someone who can lead us. You are not that so just step down and let me do it.”

“I don’t think so. I am not letting you do it. I won’t let some random woman lead this team and possibly cause us to lose.”

“YOU LITTLE-” Started Aragon, grabbing Seymour by her suit before they suddenly found themselves on opposite sides of the room, thrown against the walls.

The room was silent as they looked at what happened only to see Parr standing where they were before, wearing her Iron Woman gauntlets in each hand, with a hard look on her face.

“Both of you behave worse than 5-year-olds, we are supposed to be bonding and yet you squabble over something we don’t even need! I thought you would be better but if that’s how it will be, personally I think it’s better if we all decide on the field what we are doing, no leaders. I think we are all mature enough to make sure that it won’t be a problem.”

“Or maybe you want to become a leader?” Asked Jane, stepping towards Parr, the tension getting heavier in the room.

“Yeah. It seems like you want to be the one to lead us.” Added Aragon, tilting her head at the other woman. “Look at me, I am Catherine Parr and I say what is the best for everyone!” She added in a high pitched voice, trying to imitate Parr.

“I have to agree with you on that one, Spy, but don’t think that it makes us friends,” Seymour grumbled and moved closer towards the centre of the room.

The other agents didn’t know what to do with the newfound tension but fortunately, the other 3 heroes knew that they had to do something before 3 women killed each other.

“I REALLY THINK COFFEE WOULD BE NICE RIGHT ABOUT NOW!” Mused Anne, very loudly, making it seem like she was talking to herself. Parr, Aragon and Seymour stopped looking at each other, Boleyn now being the centre of their attention.

“Uhm, yeah… Right… I have a kitchen right there. I’ll make everyone coffee or tea.” Catherine said and quickly disappeared from the room towards where she said the kitchen was and the tension in the living room quickly disappeared.

Seymour and Aragon sat on the couches as far as possible from each other and the room was silent now, the only noise heard was breathing and some fans working.

“I think I will go help Parr with all of those cups. I also have this difficult coffee order. I don’t drink it any other way.” Anna quickly fled the room, leaving Anne and Katherine looking as if she was an evil witch who had killed their dog and laughed about it at the end of a song. The others didn’t seem to pay her any attention.

“Hello,” She said as she entered the kitchen, seeing Parr standing with 9 cups and 2 pots, probably with either coffee or tea inside them. “Wanted to see if you needed any help, Cathy Parr.”

“Cathy? Really?” Asked the other woman with a small smile on her face.

“Well, I decided everyone needs a nickname. When I say Katherine or Catherine it sounds the same. Or Catherine and Katherine. And then we have Catalina. Honestly, how many women can have similar names? This is like 33% of this group!”

“Don’t forget Anna and Anne. Those two are very similar.”

“I know, right? Stupid green imposter, I’m the superior Anne/Anna.”

“Fortunately for everyone we only have one Jane, Elizabeth, Maria or Margaret. I think that Lee is called Margaret but don’t take my word on that.” Joked Cathy, snorting lightly.

“I am also not sure about that one. I just call her “Mean Agent” in my head. Honestly, all the time I look at her, it looks as if she was getting ready for some kind of war. I mean, I know that we might be having a battle for humanity tomorrow but honestly, smile a little. Jeez, is that a lot to ask?” The woman dressed in red acted dramatically, clenching her hand across her chest as if she was being hurt.

“Do you have any other nicknames? For the others?” Asked Parr, filling one of the pots with hot water and turning her head to look at the other woman.

“I mean, yes. So we have Catalina as Lina. I think that’s actually a word for rope in Polish and to be honest, I would not be surprised if she had a rope hidden somewhere in that uniform of hers. Anne is Anne or Shrek.” At that, Catherine burst out laughing. “HEY! Don’t laugh. Just imagine her saying ‘What are you doing in my swamp?!’” Said Anna in a deep voice, trying to imitate Shrek. "And you will understand where I am getting this from. Jane is Cap or just Jane. Might buy her a cap after all of this is done. Then we will have Cap on Cap. If we buy two and she stands on one of them, we will have a cap sandwich. Little Howard is Kat because she reminds me of a cat but we put K at the start. And by we, I mean me and maybe you in the future. You, Catherine Parr, are of course Cathy. Lee we already talked about, Blount is Bessie and Salinas is Marrrrrrrrria. Remember, the more you roll the r's, the better the effect.”

Catherine Parr chuckled at the last comment, thinking what Salinas would think about it.

“You’ve known us for a few hours and you already came up with those? It’s pretty impressive.”

“It is not impressive. I was just bored.” Replied Anna, smirking. “So what are we having here?” She pointed at the pots, now filled to the brim with hot liquids.

“One of them has coffee, normal black. The other has tea, Earl Grey. I have milk in the mini-fridge in the living room so anyone can add it if needed by themselves.”

“Can I have hot chocolate? I am not a huge fan of coffee.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll make it for you right now. You know, like the good host I am haha.”

"Thanks." The two stood in silence, waiting for the drink to be made in a fancy machine Cathy had. Anna, however, was bored and wanted to start a conversation again. "You know, I am not sure what happened there in the living room. With Seymour and Aragon."

Cathy sighed "I don't know either. I get it that we should have someone to lead us on the field but… but I haven't thought that those two would make an issue out of it. They were just so…. Different, I guess, from what we saw in T.O.W.E.R. HQ."

"Maybe they are hormonal? Or need some sleep? Or coffee?"

"If they need coffee, we better head there quickly before I will have to use my repulsors on them again." Cathy pointed towards her two gauntlets that were now in the form of bracelets around her wrists.

"That's what they’re called? Cool." With that, the two women grabbed everything, Cathy with the two pots of tea and coffee while Anna used her powers to take all the empty cups and her hot chocolate.

"Your powers. They are rather impressive. I never saw anything like that."

"Not you nor C.O.U.R.T.. When I got them, a few years ago, nobody knew what I could do but with time I learned. They come pretty handy when I only have 2 hands and 10 things to hold." Said Anna using her powers to juggle the cups, earning a soft smile from Cathy.

The two women entered the living room again to be met with an uncomfortable silence. All of the women were sitting on their phones but it seemed like Anne and Kat were playing something together and didn’t really notice their two teammates entering.

“Hello! We have drinks.” Announced Anna, making everyone turn their heads towards her.

The two women put everything on the coffee table next to them and everyone made their way towards, eager to drink something warm while Cathy brought milk and sugar for anyone needing them. However, a problem arose when Katherine poured herself coffee.

“You will not be drinking that, young lady.” Said Jane, taking the cup from the teenager's hands. Kat just looks at her with a betrayed look. “You are a kid, you cannot drink that. Drink tea instead. It will be healthier for you.”

“I don’t like tea.” Kat stubbornly replied, not liking what the other woman was doing but knowing better than to fight with a super-soldier.

“She can have my hot chocolate if she wants. I’ll get coffee.” Cut in Anna, before Jane could say anything and wanting to stop any new conflict from happening… again.

“I’m okay with hot chocolate. Thanks.” Mumbled the teenager, sitting on a couch with her new drink, Anna sitting on the opposite end with a nice cup of steaming coffee.

When Jane turned around, pleased with herself, Anna used her powers to swap two cups and winking at Kat, making the young woman smile at her new friend. When they turned around, they could see Anne, Cathy and Bessie covering their smiling faces with their selected mugs as they drank their chosen beverages..

“Um, Miss Parr?” Asked Kat after their quick tea/coffee/hot chocolate break. “Do you have any sewing supplies here? Preferably a needle and some red and blue thread?”

“Why are you asking? Do you need it for something?”

The girl sighed and reached towards her backpack. From there she removed something. It was her Spider-Woman costume.

“It was destroyed in a few places today while I was patrolling. I was meaning to do something about it when I got home but I’m here instead.” The teenager said with a small chuckle and turned to look at Parr.

Cathy looked as if she was hit by a bus.

“This… is your suit?” She asked, pointing towards the fabric.

“Yeah. Made it myself. Bought all the fabric, sewn it together and all that.”

“...”

“Is Parr okay?” Asked Anne when she saw that Cathy.exe stopped working. Anna just shrugged and waited for the situation to continue.

“Am I OKAY?! OF COURSE, I AM NOT! I DON’T CARE WHAT ALL OF YOU THINK BUT I AM NOT LETTING A TEENAGER GO OUT THERE TOMORROW IN A SUIT MADE OF COTTON!” Screamed Cathy.

“It’s actually polyester” Replied Katherine but stopped when Parr looked at her with murder in her eyes.

“Is polyester that good? Wouldn’t she sweat a lot in it?” Whispered Anna to Anne and the other woman just nodded, questioning the life choices of the youngest member of the team.

“Howard, you are going with me now and I do not care what you think about it.” Ordered Catherine, dragging the younger woman with her.

“Please don’t kill me! I’m too young and pretty to die!”

“You won’t be dying kid, we are going to be making you a suit. And be we, I mean you give me a design and what you need, I choose the materials and other stuff while BRIAN will make it happen. Okay?” Asked Cathy as the two of them left the room, leaving the others to themselves. A minute later Cathy came back. “Oh, and if any of you want to rest, straight ahead there are guest rooms. Just pick one. If you need me, ask BRIAN and he will lead you to me.” She said and disappeared again, not staying to hear what the other women had to say.

Anna and Anne laughed at that, Bessie shook her head, Lee and Salinas started talking quietly with each other whilst Aragon quietly sipped her tea. Only Jane looked towards the corridor where Cathy had just left, her blue and grey eyes flashing yellow for a moment before she blinked and the unusual colour disappeared.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 2

Warnings: some language, secondhand embarrassment

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: What a gif to use amirite ;) Thank y’all so much for your responses to the first chapter! It was so encouraging, which is why I’m 2 chapters ahead on the writing for this fic lol. So keep telling me what you think! <3

“We have a few appointments set for today,” Charlotte, the front desk nurse, was saying. “But they’re just wellness checkups, so nothing crazy.”

Y/N nodded, tucking a pen into the pocket of her lab coat. “So these are regular patients?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yep, the usual. It’s a small town, so you’ll see the same faces plenty while you’re here.” She sipped water from her large tumbler as she pulled a floral desk calendar from under her keyboard. “But we also provide some urgent care services, since it’s a 30 minute drive to the nearest emergency room. So don’t be surprised when we get some walk-ins.”

“That’s alright I guess,” Y/N shrugged. “Good to stay busy.”

To say she was nervous about her first real day as a real doctor would be an understatement. Sure, she wouldn’t have many patients - not in a primary care clinic in the middle of nowhere - and the stakes were probably low, but still. She had tossed and turned the night before, eventually hopping out of bed at 5:00 am and slipping her running shoes on. Jogging through her little neighborhood and down the highway for an hour or so before dawn had transferred her first day jitters into adrenaline, but she couldn’t distract herself now. This was the real deal.

But it turned out the real deal moved at a glacial pace - at least in a town like this. Y/N saw a grand total of 5 patients, all of whom were in mostly good health, with the exception of one boil that needed lancing. The rest were just fine, a bit chatty when they met their new doctor, undoubtedly a subject of town gossip. They were eager to fill her in on the local news and suggest churches and social clubs for her to try. She nodded and made noncommittal comments to every invitation. No unscheduled patients had wandered in either, so she had far too much down time to sit in her office and refresh her inbox, waiting for emails from friends and former colleagues as they all settled in to new lives and new cities and new hospitals. None came.

Y/N sighed as she climbed into her car, and leaned her head back against the seat. Doing nothing was almost more exhausting than being busy. She just wanted to get home, pour a glass of wine, and lay around on her couch. And eat dinner. Which she would have to cook...with groceries she didn’t have. Fuck.

Grocery store it is.

Even a remote town like this one managed to have a Walmart somehow - not a huge one, but big enough to have the necessities. The fluorescent lighting made the inside of the store look dingy and gray, desperately in need of a remodel. Y/N pushed her cart up and down the aisles, grabbing items at random now that her growling stomach made everything look appetizing. She made sure she had quick ingredients for the night’s dinner - a simple chicken spaghetti, a mouthwatering recipe from her best friend.

She turned up the baking aisle, ready to head back to the front of the store. While mentally calculating the time left standing between now and her dinner, a box on the right caught her eye. Top shelf. Brownie mix. Supreme fudge. Oh hell yeah.

The shelf seemed a little high at first glance, but surely they wouldn’t put common items like brownie mix out of reach of the customer? Y/N left her cart parked in the middle of the aisle and stepped up to the shelf, lifting up on her tiptoes and stretching her arm as far as she could. The tips of her fingers could just touch the bottom of the box, but it wasn’t enough to get a grip on it. Tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, she strained harder, her other hand gripping the lower shelves for support. No dice.

A little grunt of frustration passed her lips and she stepped back, hands on her hips. Now it was just a matter of pride - she couldn’t just give up and walk away from these brownies. That was more pathetic than buying them and eating the batter alone in her kitchen, which was her original plan. With a sigh, she stepped back up to the shelf and jumped, trying to knock the box over into her hand. The first attempt failed, as did the second, but on the third she managed to tap the box enough to make one corner stick out a quarter inch over the edge of the shelf. Just as she was preparing for one last jump to claim her prize, she heard a throat clearing behind her.

She whipped around, feeling exposed as she had left her dignity behind before the first desperate hop for her brownie mix. Her cheeks burned even hotter as she met the eyes of her witness...her very tall, handsome witness. Broad shoulders under a buttery soft leather jacket, his long hair brushing the collar and

Oh shit that’s my neighbor

“Um,” he smiled, shifting his weight. “Do you need some help with that?” He gestured to the frustrating box on the top shelf.

Y/N’s brain needed a moment to catch up - she hadn’t yet seen him this close, hadn’t heard his voice, hadn’t seen him at all since that one moment in the driveway on the afternoon she arrived. He was a lot to take in.

“Yeah, uh sure,” she backed up from the shelf and pointed. “It’s that one. The, um, ‘supreme fudge’ kind.”

His smile widened (was that a dimple?) and he stepped forward, easily reaching up and plucking the mix from its place. Y/N forced her eyes away from his abs as his t-shirt lifted away from the hem of his jeans. When he turned back and offered her the box, his bright blue eyes were on her face.

“Here you go. One supreme fudge,” he teased, smirk creeping up the side of his mouth. Y/N took the box with both hands and held it to her chest.

“Thanks, you’re a real life-saver,” she laughed, self-conscious.

“And here I thought that was your job?”

Y/N’s brow wrinkled, until he nodded towards her clothes and she remembered she was still wearing her scrubs.

“Oh! Right,” she wrinkled her nose in embarrassment. “Well, I definitely didn’t save any lives today, so. You’re doing better than me.”

“Hm. I doubt that.”

The conversation lulled, but he stayed planted in front of her cart. He settled his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, seeming to have no intention of leaving. Y/N took a deep breath and forged ahead.

“It’s...Mr. Barnes I think? I’m sorry I never got a first name.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, it’s just, uh, just Bucky. How’d you know…?”

“Oh, Mr. Van Horn told me you were my neighbor when he gave me the keys the other day. I’m living in his mother’s house -”

“Across the street, yeah!” he blurted, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “That’s how I recognized you, I just couldn’t place it.” He shook his head, laughing at himself. “God, I’m sorry, must’ve seemed rude, I didn’t even introduce myself or ask your name.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waved him off, sticking her hand out and giving him her name, still relishing the ‘Dr.’ title. “But you can just call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his grip gentle but firm. His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, bright and searching. He took a breath to say something else, when his gaze shifted, locking on something behind her. His posture stiffened and he jerked his hand back, jaw tightening.

“See you around,” he said coldly, shoulder bumping hers as he strode past her down the aisle. Y/N turned in confusion, trying to see what had changed his mood so abruptly. But the only thing she could see at the end of the aisle was a discarded candy wrapper, soon crackled under Bucky’s heavy boot. Then he was gone.

Y/N’s lips pursed in a frustrated pout. Two strikes Barnes.

That night, as she sipped wine from her grandma bed in her grandma house, she scrolled through social media on her phone in a vain attempt to feel close to her friends. Engagement, pregnancy, travel, engagement. Scoffing, she tossed her phone to the side and hunkered down in the bed. She stared at the popcorn ceiling, tiny glitter particles glinting in the lamplight. The wine in her glass was drained to the last drop and she twirled the stem absentmindedly.

She went over the scene in the baking aisle again and again, wondering if she had said something wrong and offended Bucky somehow. His dismissal was just so strange. On a whim, she snatched up her phone again and typed his name into Facebook. A few Bucky Barnes’s, but none that looked like him. She tried Instagram and Twitter with the same result. No social media presence, in this day and age? So fucking strange.

Outside the house, an engine started up, revving a couple of times before the sound retreated down the street.

Good riddance.

[amillionsmiles]

dizzy on the comedown (Keith/Pidge)

Title: dizzy on the comedown Summary: But it was molting season: time to trade the old feathers for new wings. / Keith, Katie, and the light of a small town moon. A/N: Written for the @kidgezine!

Read and review here or continue under the cut.

o.O.o

At this point in his life, Keith had two things going for him. Graduation, and—

Okay, well. Maybe just the one.

Above Mrs. Finkle’s head, the clock crept at a snail’s pace. Time moved slowly enough in Arus already—call it the universal law of small towns—but detention, Keith hypothesized, was where it froze in cryogenic sleep. If not for the one other student sitting two rows behind him and to the left, Keith could have convinced himself he was in bed at home, dreaming.

That was how most days felt, in the midst of senior spring. Like he could just float in and out of them until summer, when he’d be gone for good. As far as cities went, Altea hardly had the glitz and glamor of somewhere like New York, but its population of 100,000 was massive compared to Arus’s 1,800, and for that, Keith couldn’t wait.

In the meantime, though, he saved up his money and cut class. Which had been working just fine until he’d dropped by to grab an assignment and Iverson had spotted him, hightailed it down the corridor, and grabbed Keith by the scruff of his jean jacket before he could get away.

Dragging his attention away from the minute hand, Keith went back to fiddling with the radio on his desk. It was his mom’s, a vintage dark beige beauty that had started glitching last week. Despite not being much of a repairman, Keith hoped to fix it in time for her birthday this weekend. Mrs. Finkle ignored him, tongue darting out to wet her finger as she flipped another page of her book.

Keith messed with a wire and turned the dial. Nothing but static at first, but slowly the faint strains of music overcame the crackle. Keith smiled, stopping short when a ball of paper hit the back of his head.  

He turned around. His detention-mate stared back at him with a steady gaze, hazelnut brown hair bundled in two messy braids. Katie Holt, sophomore. One older brother, Matt, who’d graduated last year. Her dad was an astrophysics professor while her mom bounced between running the local library and volunteering at the observatory up in the hills. Keith knew all these facts through no extra effort of his own, the same way everyone knew that his dad had died putting out the fire on Mr. McComb’s farm back in 2008.

What he didn’t know was why Katie was in detention. She didn’t exactly seem like the rabble-rousing type. Then again, maybe the fact that she looked so unassuming was exactly what made her trouble.

Impatiently, Katie jerked her head toward the crumpled ball behind him. Frowning, Keith swiveled in his chair and scooped it up, flattening it on his desk.

Nice, read the note.

Meaning the radio, probably. He glanced back at Katie and raised a single eyebrow in acknowledgement.  At the front of the classroom, Mrs. Finkle’s chair scraped backwards as she stood up.

Though it took 30 seconds for her to leave the room and turn the corner toward the bathrooms, it felt like a year. Once she’d left, Keith put the radio in his backpack and swung it over his shoulder.  He didn’t know Katie well enough to say anything meaningful out loud, but he granted her a brief nod of acknowledgement before turning his back.  

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.” He poked his head out into the hallway to make sure no one was around. The agreement with Mrs. Finkle was simple: as long as nobody saw him busting out, she could plead innocence, and they could both move on with their respective afternoons.

“Isn’t skipping detention just going to get you… more detention?”

At that, Keith turned to lean against the doorframe. Katie had moved to stand beside him, hands curled around the straps of her backpack.

“Trust me, I do it all the time.”

“In that case...” Katie tilted her head. “Lead the way.”  

Katie Holt had a bossy streak, apparently. Without further conversation, Keith started down the hallway.

“Do you have some sort of secret arrangement with Mrs. Finkle?” asked Katie, hot on his heels.

“No, she just doesn’t care. I got top marks on all the state evals, and I pretty much carry the class average.” Keith didn’t say it to brag; he’d overheard Mrs. Finkle use the exact same reasoning in an argument with Iverson once. “Besides, detention wastes her time just as much as it wastes ours— hey. ”

Katie had grabbed his forearm, yanking him to the right.  

“Coach Sendak always gets his coffee in the break room around this time,” she hissed. “I thought you said you did this a lot.”

“No need to be critical,” grumbled Keith.

They’d finally reached the parking lot. His red pickup truck, shabby as it was, beckoned like a jewel. Before he could head in its direction, though, he made the mistake of glancing over at Katie. She looked on the brink of asking him something, the determination on her face surprisingly imposing considering her stature.

Exhaling, Keith ran a hand through his hair. “What?”

Just as quickly, Katie’s expression transitioned to innocence.  “What?”

He leveled her with a look that read, clearly: I don't have time for this. “What are you about to ask?”

She shifted. “I need a ride home.  23rd and Walnut.”

“That’s four traffic lights past Greasy Sal’s, right?”

“Yeah.”

“All right, fine.” Keith gestured for her to walk with him.  At his truck, he pulled open the driver’s door, tossing his bag into the backseat. “Get in.”

o.O.o

“Dammit.” For the third time, Katie jiggled the door handle, rapping on the door. “Nobody’s home.”

“Window?” suggested Keith.

Katie shot him a flat look. “I’m not breaking into my own house.”

“Okay, then…” Keith crossed his arms. The Holts’ porch was small, painted gray while the rest of the house was white. A bristly brown welcome mat printed with a cactus laid in front of the screen door; cacti seemed to be a recurring motif, if the several growing in the yard were anything to go by.  

He took a deep breath.

“Listen, I’ve got a paper route that starts in fifteen minutes. So either you stay here, or you come with.  But I’m leaving.”

“Gee, you’re really selling the appeal of your company,” said Katie.  “I’m in.”

It took Keith a second to process, during which Katie sailed past him and back to his car.  “You’re—what?”

“I’m in.” Opening the passenger side door, she clambered inside.  “Come on—I don’t want to be blamed for you being late.”

o.O.o

As far as newspapers went, the Arus Gazette would hardly win any awards for its journalism. But much like playing in the Little League or driving to nearby Olkari Springs for Labor Day Weekend, subscription to it was time-honored tradition, a given if you’d grown up in town.

“How long does it usually take you to deliver all these?” Katie asked, pushing aside a newspaper tube that had encroached on the space between them.

“Two hours. If you’re trying to get homework done, you could probably just use the dashboard as a desk.”

Shaking her head, Katie leaned back in the seat. “Nah, I get carsick.”

“Suit yourself,” answered Keith, just as the traffic light ahead of them blinked sleepily from yellow to red. The foot he put down on the brake pedal felt like a dampener on the mood in the car; in the silence, Katie turned away from him to stare out the window, her fingers laced in her lap. It was weird. Usually, Keith cared little about forcing conversation. He hadn’t promised he’d entertain her for tagging along on his errand run. Still…

“How’d you get thrown in detention?”

Katie turned toward him, blinking in surprise. “You really want to know?”

Keith shrugged. “Might as well.”  

“Hm.” The seatbelt shifted as Katie wriggled around to face him fully. “You know Lance, right?”

“Yeah.” Former Little League rival and youngest child of the McClains, who ran the only Cuban restaurant in town. “What about him?”

“So, basically I rigged the water fountain outside Mrs. Sanda’s classroom to spray in his face, which didn’t go over so well because—” Here, she adopted a high-pitched, nasal tone, “—‘we’re in the middle of a drought!’”

Keith cracked a smile. “Was it worth it?”

“100%. So what’s your deal? Is all the delinquency just a bad case of senioritis?”

“Detention doesn’t make me a delinquent.”

“At its broadest definition, delinquency means misbehavior, and I’d say playing hooky counts.”

“You’re kind of a smartass,” Keith observed.

Katie remained unfazed.  “I’ve gotta be, if I ever want to get out of here.”

At that, Keith’s ears perked.  Very few people broke beyond Arus’s event horizon.  For most travelers, it was a pit stop, but once you settled, you stayed.  That was what had happened to his mom: she’d been passing through on her way to a motorcycling convention when her bike had broken down.  Keith’s dad arrived to save the day. Three months later, they’d married in the town courthouse, a September wedding, escorted home by a fleet of men and women in leather jackets—members of Mom’s former motorcycle club, the Blades.

“Where to?”

“East coast,” said Katie.  “Or maybe Midwest. As long as it’s somewhere cold.  I want to see snow.”

“These desert nights aren’t cold enough for you?”

“It’s not the same. What about you? Everyone knows you’re ditching for Altea.”

“Yeah. They’ve got the nearest police academy.”  

Katie’s eyes brightened. She had an uncanny way of looking at him, as if he were a gadget she wanted to figure out the innermost workings of. “You’re going to be a police officer?”

Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, Keith quirked an eyebrow. “If this is the setup for another joke about me being a delinquent…”

Katie pouted. “I’m more creative than that.”

“Good to know. Can you pass me one of the newspapers?”

Obliging, Katie handed him a tube as he rolled down the driver’s side window. With a flick of the wrist, Keith sent the bundle arcing through the air. It landed with a satisfying splat on the front porch, right up against the door. Beside him, Katie whistled.

“Twenty points if you can get it to land directly on the welcome mat,” said Keith, reaching behind him to grab another roll.  He held it out between them in challenge.

Katie’s eyes sparked.  “You’re on.”

What Keith knew about Katie Holt: she liked a good prank, she wanted out of Arus, and when she grinned, a dimple appeared high on her right cheek. And now he also knew the curve of her shoulder underneath her green flannel, a corded strength only hinted at before, when she’d grabbed him in the hallway.  Katie had a wicked strong arm for somebody so small.

“I used to pitch for my brother,” explained Katie, her slight smirk a sign that she’d caught him noticing.

Two could play ball. “In that case,” said Keith, letting their fingers touch this time as he passed her another newspaper, “Batter up.”    

o.O.o

The pink and blue of Coran’s Convenience shone invitingly against the night sky as Keith pulled into the parking lot. Wasting no time in unbuckling her seatbelt, Katie leaped out of the car, leaning against the ice machine as she waited for him to catch up.

It didn’t feel like they’d spent the last eight hours together; in fact, Keith was almost reluctant to see the end. They’d made a game of the rest of his paper route, competing to see who could throw faster or with more accuracy.  Afterwards, dinner at Flo’s Diner, where between the two of them they’d devoured a healthy serving of chili cheese fries, crispy fish sliders, and apple pie. And now, to close the night, Slurpees from Coran’s.

Coran was Arus’s resident redhead and town gossip. Like a homing beacon, his head whipped toward the entrance when the bell overhead jingled. Somewhat protectively, Keith steered Katie so that the chip aisle obscured them from view as they headed toward the back, where the white lemon, blue raspberry, and cherry ice churned in their respective containers.

Halfway through filling his cup with cherry, Keith was interrupted.

“You’re doing it wrong,” said Katie, taking over. “The trick is to layer all the flavors.”

Keith took the package of Twizzlers she thrust at him, watching Katie top off the Slurpee’s blue raspberry layer with practiced precision.

“You’re a sick little genius, but I’ll take it.”

“Watch who you’re calling little,” she warned. “Corn Pops?”

Keith made a face. “Pass.”

“All right.”

At the cash register, Coran rang up their total with a twinkle in his eye. “How’s your mom doing, Keith?”

Reaching for his wallet, Keith shrugged. “She’s fine.”

“Gonna miss you when you leave for Altea, I bet.”

“I’m not disappearing off the grid, just moving. I’ll visit.”

“Mhmm. And what about you, Little Holt?” teased Coran. “Running around with this one now that Matt’s gone—I hope he hasn’t gotten you into any trouble.”

“We met in detention, actually,” said Keith, finally done counting his change. “Here. $5.79.”

Sensing Keith was a dead end, Coran swept the bills and coins into his hand and redirected his wiles toward Katie with more vigor.

“Trade that story for a Slim Jim.”

“Two Slim Jims and a pack of Mentos,” Katie countered.

Coran laughed, running a thumb over his mustache. “Deal.”

After laying the negotiated items on the counter, Coran leaned over to let Katie whisper in his ear.  Meanwhile, Keith sipped the Slurpee, shivering slightly as the cold rushed to his head. Coran’s grin had pulled higher; Keith narrowed his eyes at Katie, wondering what she’d just said.  

Once they’d escaped Coran’s gleeful “Stay safe, kids!” he had a chance to ask.

“What’d you tell him?”

“Something much more exciting than the truth,” grinned Katie, stashing their additional haul of Slim Jims and Mentos in the cup holder. “So, where to next?”

In the eerie white-blue lights of the gas station, her lips shone. She hadn’t redone her braids since the afternoon, and the wispy tangles framed her face, giving her a wild softness. It suddenly seemed impossible that Keith had lived all this time at Arus without casting her anything more than a second glance.  

He braced a hand on the back of her headrest, getting ready to reverse. “I know a place.”

o.O.o

Keith’s boots clanged heavily as he climbed onto the bed of his truck.  Katie had already spread out the blankets; she reclined on them now, elbows jutting out on either side of her head like two bony bird wings.

The cold desert air, combined with the condensation from the Slurpee, numbed Keith’s fingers.  When he hit the lemon layer, his nose wrinkled. Wordlessly, he passed the cup to Katie, who accepted with a gleeful look that let him know this had probably been her plan all along.

“Do you do this often?” she asked.

Keith followed her gaze to where the roads out of Arus dissolved into black ribbons through the dry brush. Every so often, a car’s headlight appeared. In the distance, you could just barely make out the lights of another town, but it was mostly cactus and mountains and big desert sky.

“Yeah. My dad used to drive me out here whenever I needed to blow off steam.” He rested his chin on his knees, staring at the horizon line.  

A rustle. Katie sat up beside him.  “Was it in this car?”

Keith smiled. “Yeah.”

“That explains why the engine sounds so clunky then. You’ve had it for forever.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith watched her. The starlight seemed to catch on her freckles, making them glimmer. He wanted to ask if she believed in ghosts. Not the evil, vindictive kind, but the restless sort. The type that might possess you to drive to the outskirts of town and sit in that liminal space between everything you’d known and everything you wanted to be.

“What’s your favorite constellation?” asked Katie, breaking his reverie.

“Aquila,” Keith answered readily. “I like how bright it gets in the summer. And I’ve always liked birds of prey.”

“Poetic.”

“Stars are the only thing I’ll miss about this place, probably.” Even as he said it, though, he knew it wasn’t true; there was the belltower and the trailer park and the way the sunrise seemed to set the grass on fire, and the dark, quiet corner of Mo’s where if you pressed your ear to the wall you could feel the vibrations from the band practicing in the basement. But it was molting season: time to trade in the old feathers for new wings.

“Well, that sucks,” Katie said. “Because even though we just started hanging out… I think I’ll miss you.”

Behind her head, the moon peeked out like an angel’s halo. Messy, he thought—about Katie’s hair, about this, starting something only to leave it behind, but. I’m not disappearing off the grid, just moving.  I’ll visit.  

Gently, he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Katie’s ear. This new call was softer, more fragile than the one drawing him away from Arus, but it thud in his chest all the same.

“There’s room to add other things to the list,” he said, tugging her closer, or maybe she pulled him—either way, their mouths met in the middle, Katie’s hand curling around the flannel of his shirt, both a departure and an arrival, all at once.  The glare from a passing headlight infiltrated the corner of his vision; instinctively, Keith turned away from it, nestling his face in the side of Katie’s head.  Her hair smelled like a tangle of all the places they’d been today, hamburger grease mingled with desert air and notes of coconut.

“You’re trouble, Keith Kogane,” said Katie.  She wrinkled her nose when she said it, and Keith was almost embarrassed by how fond he was of the gesture, already.  It crackled in his chest, like a radio picking up a signal after hours of silence.

“So are you.”

[sevenfactorial]

On the topic of math REUs

So I’m finally getting around to writing about this (also using it as a a draft for when I talk about REUs at math club next semester lol). This is based off my singular experience so of course it’ll vary quite a bit. Also yeah, it got really long.

First, some context. I went to an 8 week program several hours away from home at a mid-sized public university. It’s math department isn’t tiny, but mine is bigger I think (it has a math grad program while the REU school doesn’t for one) and definitely does more research (I go to a R1 school, the REU school is not). My REU was also in a mid-sized town compared to the small city I’m used to. There was two math projects going on, with 4 people on each plus a student from the university working with my project on a different grant and two professors mentoring each group. In addition, they support a much larger chemistry REU who we were housed with.

The Research

I worked on algebraic graph theory (the pure math project, while the other group did applied math). Specifically we looked at the abelian sandpile model, also known as chip firing and some other names.

We weren’t given a specific question and were more encouraged to find our own questions within the topic. We found the freedom really nice and interesting, but also felt like we would have gotten more done if we were given a narrower window of things to look at. Many REUs are given a specific question/project (the other group did) so it varies. Coming up with research questions is often considered harder than making discoveries themselves so it was frustrating in a way but I'm also glad I got to deal with it.

With 5 people working on the topic, we split up and formed groups multiple times through the summer. All of us ended up working on one question(looking at a group defined by sandpiles on strongly regular graphs; I’m not going to get into detail about the material itself but message/send an ask if you want to know more. You can also probably find our final write up online once our mentor posts it) but also had personal/two or three person mini-projects going on. My main one was not particularly successful since I eventually realized I was trying to do something similar to a conjecture that has been open since the 90s (abelian sandpiles was started in the 80s, possibly 70s?) which was sort of disappointing but still interesting.

We worked more computationally than I’m used to since graphs are just... kinda weird and the algebra was sort of borderline what we were capable of learning and doing in a short time. Note that you don’t have to have a strong background in the topic to work on an REU. You don’t have to have any background often times; the mentors will likely do a crash course on it during the first week or two which is intense but works just fine. I happened to have a little and one of my labmates had done algebraic graph theory research before, but the mentors didn't assume much prior knowledge (the application should be clear about if they do expect you to have certain background but typically, they just assume you’ve taken several math classes and have experience with proof writing. maybe a linear alg or programming class).

At the end of the summer, we did a presentation for the other group and anyone else in the department who wanted to attend and wrote up a final report together. Some programs expect something publishable, though I get the impression most are more aiming for “something that can be published with heavy refinement.” We’re encouraged to present at our home institution or at conferences if we can/want to and have a decent chance of getting funding from their department to do so if necessary.

The Work Day

Working at the REU is definitely the closest thing I’ve had to a standard job. The first weekish, we met at 9:30 and 1:00 each day for the background crash course lecture, with a break in between to work without the mentors and get lunch. The students would then work without the mentors until 5. After the first week or two, we only had a meeting with the mentors once every day or two but continued to work roughly from 9:30 to 5, with a lunch break from 12 to 1. This was really mostly our choice to do so. We all did some work outside the work day, but nothing like the amount of homework we're used to as math students. A lot of us found it baffling how much free time we had.

We were given several options for places to work in the math building and everyone typically worked in the same room but it wasn’t forced either. Sometimes I spent the afternoon in the library if I decided I couldn’t take social interaction and did work at a coffee shop downtown a couple mornings. We were also able to visit the mentors in their offices outside of meeting times.

They also did tea once a week where a different faculty talked about their experience/path to their current career and gave advice for grad school and the like.

Outside of Work

The mentors and organizers did a couple events. We were close to DC so they took us one Saturday (I went back on my own to visit counter-example another weekend which is when the squirrel encounters happened), one mentor hosted a memorial day bbq at his house and another did a game day at hers. Another mentor is an amateur astronomer so he took us up to a mountain top to stargaze one night which was fantastic. All the math students (from both projects plus those who were students there and were around for research or whatever) were invited to all the events and chem REU students were also invited to some of them. Likewise, we were invited to some events hosted by the chem REU though I went to less of those.

Mostly though, we were left to our own devices outside of work hours. We were put in a dorm which was effectively a 2 bed 2 bath apartment for 4 people which included a kitchen (we were able to buy meal swipes on a faculty plan and I bought some but mostly cooked). I didn’t bring a car so I often went grocery shopping with one of my labmates or roommate since the nearest grocery store was a bit over a mile away.

Downtown was a lot closer though, so I often walked there on my own to a restaurant or coffee shop. They had a nice downtown area with a lot of food options so that was really fun.

We were nestled between several forests so me and some of my labmates went hiking on Saturday and me and some of my roommates attempted camping once as well (story and some pictures here: https://sevenfactorial.tumblr.com/post/186095927170/yesterday-me-and-my-roommates-went-camping-except).

I was also able to keep up with various friends at home. A few of us read a linear alg book together for the first month or so of the summer and I continued playing d&d with a few of my friends on a bi-weekly basis via video chat (we usually do it over video chat in the first place actually), though we intentionally skipped during the last two-ish weeks of my REU.

This is obviously very dependent on where your REU is but kinda gets the gist of what a lot of programs do in terms of activities. Activities tended to be announced/planned pretty last minute though, so it’s a bit of a guessing game.

My Take Away

I liked going to my REU. For me, the most valuable things was definitely getting to meet math people from other places and having different experiences from what I’m used to.

I really love my department at home but comparing experiences was fascinating. Whether that’s what subjects are offered or how things are structured or how we interacted with our department, it varied a lot. Having that knowledge is useful in my opinion.

Life experiences are also really different. Two of my labmates are from small liberal arts schools in the NE and one is from an engineering college on the west coast. There aren’t fireflies on the west coast, for example, and not many in new england either, so everyone else was fascinated by how many there were (there were slightly more there than I’m used to since I live in a larger city, but not enough for me to find it unusual).

I also grew up in the same city I go to undergrad in too so spending two months somewhere else was really valuable for me. I had never been away from my parents for that long (I tend to not spend a lot of time at home but I visit for short amounts of time frequently) but I will be going out of state for grad school since there aren’t any grad programs in my state that I’m interested in. My parents were encouraging but pretty freaked out about me being gone for two months (we all survived).

TL;DR My REU was a bit like an intense but flexible job where I was able to work on an interesting project and meet a lot of people with similar yet very different experiences from my own. I recommend applying!

[kgstyr]

So if y’all for some reason want to hear about my Hurricane Florence story, then you’ve come to the right place. I raveled with my mother and eldest sister on our evacuation journey, while my sister and her husband and kid stayed home.

I’ll put it under a read more if you don’t want to read all of it, but just know it was a wild ride. And plz do me a forgive bc my memory is kinda shitty and selective so im prob missing great moments.

We left on the September 13th a little after 10 in the morning, but before we had even left, the outer bands of Florence were bearing down on us and we had already lost power.

We rode through the town of Swansboro, were the water was already high enough to lap the bottom of the tiny bridge into the town (even tho its low to begin with) even tho it wasn’t going to make landfall til the next morning.

/Now for all of you who don’t know about hurricanes, they usually only last 24-36 hours. It lasted for over 4 days. When hurricanes linger like that, it only makes it worse, even though Florence was only a category 1, it felt more powerful./

We kept driving, past Jacksonville, but until we got past there, I can’t tell you how many times the radio went off for Tornado Warnings (at least 4) up and down the coast of NC within an hour or so. I’ve been through a number of Hurricanes and Tropical Storms, but hearing all those warnings were a bit unnerving. Flood warnings started popping up as well, and as hard as it started raining I believed it happened that fast.

We drove up there pretty much without incident (we are direction illiterate, so almost without incident) up to the city of Pinehurst/Southern Pines, and stayed up in a hotel there for about 3 days. The first day was p good, we chilled up there- the drivers were aggressive as FUCK like run you off the road- it was real pretty with tall Carolina Pines and worldstar golf courses, just like country club on steroids.

The bed was kinda uncomfy and the window leaked a lil bit, but otherwise the first night was a good rest after a long day of driving.

But the next morning (or two, days get away from me), we went to the lobby to rent the room for another night, only for them to tell us that they had booked our room that day, so we had to leave. We were mad as hell, but we couldn't fight it given as we were in unknown territory, so we packed up our stuff and got ready to leave- only to tell us that they had gotten mixed up and that we could stay another night.

Needless to say, we were not happy about having to unpack, then repack, then unpack again.

When they said Florence was slow moving, y’all don’t understand how slow. usually, when hurricanes hit land, they may slow down for a bit, but they speed up and are usually carried out by the jet streams or approaching fronts within a day. It moved slower than 6 mph: ppl can walk faster than that.

The second day, it started raining where we were, and at first it was sporadic outer bands, but soon it become constant with fluctuating torrential downpours. By the end of the second day, the rains and wind had picked up enough to knock out the power to out hotel for an hour or so.

And the same thing happened with the hotel the next morning: they said they had booked our room, but then apologized and said that we can stay. This time at least we didn’t pack up before that.

Now, we went up to the Sandhills to get away from the flooding on the coast, but it came to us. The rain was pouring, and not letting up, and we went under a flash flood emergency nearly continuously from the second day onward, and evacuations across the county were in effect. After the third or fourth day, we decided to leave the area bc all of the water that was rising and evacuations.

After we had left the hotel area, we passed the town of Aberdeen, and we ended up pulling over at a gas station to look at the map (remember: direction illiterate family here) and that’s when I told my mother the famous line

“We should go back to Aberdeen, Mama.” Saying that we knew our way back home

But she decided not to, saying that we couldn’t go back because of the weather. We tried to travel south a lil bit to skirt around an area that was flooded, but we ended up getting pushed down way father south than we anticipated due to impassable areas and flooding, and we ended up on the outskirts of Rockingham. After riding around for hours, trying to find a way out, we ended up at a shelter for the night at the local high school because conditions had deteriorated to an unsafe level, and we were directed by some very nice highway patrolmen to where the shelter is.

None of us had even stayed in a shelter before, so it was a new experience for all of us. The people running the place were nice, but damn some of the ppl were annoying.

I now hate cots, and my Mama and sister hate them too. I really couldn’t sleep on it b/c of the steel rods in my back (scoliosis) and Mama has bad arthritis, so it wasn’t a pleasant night.

It got worse when Rockingham and the county started experiencing massive flash flooding in the middle of the night, and we were up half the night listening to the weather and keeping an eye out just in case we need to evacuate from the shelter. It became a lil more nerve-wracking when evacuees from other counties (like Horry, SC) were transported to our shelter. It was semi- peaceful at the shelter til like 10 other people were brought in.

I had said this several times by this point, but while we were trying to rest on horrid cots, I told Mama: “We’ve should’ve gone back to Aberdeen.”

Long night short, we were semi- kicked out in the morning, and we packed up our stuff and loaded up the car again, having made a soft plan the night before to head to the next town of Hamlet.

We were so tired and fed up and ready to go the hell home that when the car didn’t start, we all started hardcore panicking, and me and my mama, at least, are not panicky people. At first, we thought the car had gotten flooded from all the rain, but after a quick look around we concluded that that was not it, unless someone had just poured a bucket of water on our engine.

After several minutes of pulling each other’s hair out, we found out that the car just needed some oil. Either the long ride up the Sandhills had burned it all and we had rolled it in on fumes last night, or my sister didn’t exactly tell the truth when she said the car was fully oiled up.

Probably both, but that’s not the point (she is a special gurl no hate plz she tries her best).

After that, we stopped at the nearest Burger King in Hamlet and we tried to plot a course home, this time, trying to shoot straight up towards Asheboro and then going around Raleigh and coming home, because by this point other ppl from my hometown that had evacuated to Raleigh had come home from that route.

We left about 11:30-ish. We got as close to Asheboro as the city of Candor (google map it im bad at distance) and then got stuck on this loop for hours between Rockingham and Asheboro.

Literally at least 6 hours. A good chunk of that was trying to get to a town called Candor. We never found it nor made it.

At this point we were all at our wits end, screaming and yelling at each other (out of love ofc) because we are all so bad at directions that we can’t follow a straight line-

We stopped for dinner at somewhere, I can’t remember where, I think at Rockingham again, and then-

“We should go back to Aberdeen.” I say, and Mama laughs and asks why in hell we should go back. I told her that we had stayed in that area for multiple days and that I knew where the hotels in that area (Aberdeen, Pinehurst, Southern Pines, etc.) were-

It was nearly 6, and we were tired and exhausted and running low on money, so Mama agreed, because she didn’t want to spend another night in a shelter.

And, like I said, we couldn’t turn onto a straight line, so we got lost trying to find a hotel, but by a stroke of a lucky piece of my memory, I remembered where a Holiday Inn Express was in the city of Southern Pines, and we managed to find out way there in a darker-than-expected city. 

It was about 8:30 at night, and we were ready to just fucking perish when me and my sister went into the lobby, and asked the front manager if a room was available.

She said no, because a large part of the city had lost power itself and everybody in the town had crowded into the hotels. I felt my stomach drop just a tiny amount because we had been through direction illiterate hell to get there, just to not have a room for the night.

We asked her if there was any other hotel with a vacancy, and she checked and told us the nearest vacancy was in Durham, well over a hundred miles away. My sister, ever the conversationalist, ended up asking her if there was any way we could just crash in the lobby tonight. She said sure. So, we went out to tell Mama that we could stay in the lobby, and we got what we needed for the night to rest in the lobby.

We fully expected to be in the lobby all night, but then the desk lad left for a bit and told us that even though she wasn’t a housekeeper, she could clean a recently vacated room for us that night. We even got it for cheaper since we couldn’t afford the full price.

Lemme tell you, that was the quickest I’ve ever fallen asleep on a bed, and it was a gucci pillowtop bed too like 4 feet into the air, much better than the first hotel. Breakfast was a bit sparse, but that was understandable since power was limited throughout the city. We thanked her repeatedly for what she did; she had no obligation to actually get us a room, but she pulled a rabbit out of her Miracle Hat and gave us a good 8 hour night of deep sleep.

“See?” I said. “We should’ve gone back to Aberdeen.” My new favorite meme. Even though it was the next town over, it still counts as Aberdeen, right?

Over breakfast and leading up to our checkout time, we plotted our way home, and we headed out and started driving home at noon. And since we can’t follow our own directions, it was a tense few 10 miles or so before we got out onto open highway.

It took us a while, because our car is an older car and can’t get up the Sandhills that well, but we started seeing flatter land, and it was a blessed sight.

Mama saw a sign for the city of Benson, and she turned off the exit to go towards that city because she knew her way home from there.

Except like 300 feet from where she turned, the right front tire blew out. WE were nearly halfway home, and our fucking tire blows out. At the very least, I am thankful that it blew out 300 feet onto the exit and not 300 feet back, because if it had blown out on the Interstate we would’ve more than likely have crashed and killed bc no modern safety features on this old piece of beautiful junk.

We managed to roll it into a gas station on the left on the rim, the tire pushed inward and leaving the metal exposed, and that’s when we all had a coming to Jesus moment because back in Rockingham? Filling up the oil was a simple fix. Tire blowing out? We couldn’t do that on our own.

My sister went into the gas station to ask the clerk to call a nearby mechanic, while me and mama refilled our snacks then sat outside on a patio while we waited. Not 15 minutes later, an old, hunchbacked man came into an old, black truck that looked like it needed some repairs itself to check our tires.

Thank goodness that it was only hat one tire than had blowed out, having somehow been slashed all the way around. My sister, the socialite, told him about our harrowing journey up til that point, and I’m sure he could see the complimentary American Red Cross blankets strewn across the backseat along with everything else.

He only charged $40 for a used tire, a bad lugnut, and labor, which was amazingly cheap. He would only take $40, and he did a pretty damn good job because the ride was much smoother after that, and he even pointed out that the tires were misaligned. We got back on the highway, and started driving again.

The hills had started to flatten out when we got into Wayne county, and the trip was winding and calming down from all of our experiences earlier, but then we started to see signs of actual damage from Florence, not just rain and flooded roads.

It started out as just some snapped tree limbs, then smaller trees, then shingles and metal ripped off roofs and large trees snapped in half- and the smell- if you’ve ever smelt like, water mold or water that wasn’t were it was supposed to be (out of its basin), it was rancid and ripe, and not even rolling up the windows could keep it out of the air. I’ll never forget the smells.

The road was brown along lower areas, signs of recent standing water, and it was really visible as we went by Goldsboro. We didn’t go into the city because we had heard about the flooding, but we could literally smell the destruction.

It continued all the way thru Kinston, the smell of water mold and downed trees and damaged structures- we had to stop in New Bern to get some groceries because there were no more stores open after that stop to our city, and we went into a Food Lion in New Bern. There wasn’t much in there, but we got a few Pepsis and things, along with a tiny styrofoam cooler.

There prices were a little high, so we didn’t buy as much as we had planned on- plus their store was getting rather bare.

Someone stole a bottle of alcohol while we were in there, and that made us get the heck out of dodge super fast. Around that time, we had been passed by a fleet of 21 police cars/ SUVS heading towards New Bern and past it, lights on but no sirens.

We saw a few scattered in New Bern, Havelock, Newport- to stop the rioting and looting from earlier from happening again. When the news says people are looting these cities, they really are. New Bern had a lot of side roads closed, the road was a bit raggedy, and you could see what the constant winds did to the siding and roofs of structures.

Also I think one of those cops caught a guy we saw deliberately run a red light. Justice does work, people.

New Bern was bad, Havelock was worse. Nearly all of their side roads were closed, and over half of their street lights were off, which was not good for driving at like 10 at night. We saw cops lining a side street, and we just assumed that they were doing criminal shenanigans down there.

Plus I forgot to mention, frogs were everywhere. It was too dark to see them, but you could hear them for several counties in standing water. They were having frog orgies, I guess.

We knew the Newport River in Newport had flooded, so when the smell of river flooding was ripe, we knew where we were at. A lot more trees were down, and the road was dirty and brown with tree branches brushed to the middle lane or the side of the road, from what we could see in the dark.

My city  looked like someone took a fucking AOE chainsaw and went down the street and cut all the trees but with bad aim. The closer to the waterfront, the more it was obvious that there was damage, as quite a number of houses had gaping homes in their roofs.

The sister that stayed told us that the day after the storm, it looked like a bomb went off in the city, and even though they had gotten the worse of it off the roads and stuff by the time we got back, I believe that. The structures along the waterfront were flooded with the storm surge, and the cites across the Sound bore the brunt of it.

The power came back on for us just a few hours before we arrived home after 5 days of being gone, so it seems like we have perfect timing for that. Before the power started coming back on, it was like the county was a third world country Africa-style (still kinda is!) with the roads flooded making them cutoff from the outside world.

When people say they need donations, they need them. I’ve never had to go into a church to get a hot meal, but now I have. I’ve never slept in a shelter to get away from a natural disaster, but now I have. I’ve never gone to a store to scrounge around for food to restock our nearly empty shelves with, but now I have.

We didn’t get it nearly as bad as Wilmington, or Fayetteville, or Lumberton, but in the grand scheme, all the cities were affected in some way. 

Speaking of Lumberton, at the first hotel we met a very nice and polite black woman from the city of Lumberton, who said she lost everything in Matthew and was praying she didn’t lose everything this time. If she lost it all in Matthew, hen she probably lost everything including the kitchen sink this time as well. I hope there’s something left for her.

Also my Laptop broke (stupid Microsoft updates) at the first hotel on teh first night.

My apartment building sustained some damage (I wouldn’t call it major, but definitely some repairs are needed). It’s 2-story, and I’ve spent an hour today picking up some shingles and paint chips that had flown off the roof and onto the front side. Nobody else was gonna do it, and I didn’t want little kids to step on one with a nail in it and hurt themselves, and plus I wanted to help.

The wood for the balcony for the second definitely needs to be replaced, actually most of the balconies will need to be replaced, and the porch and lawn lights needs fixing bc many of them are bent or gone. A couple of apartments need extensive repairs in the back, and the trees that have snapped needs to be picked up- and the potholes need to be filled as well, but we’ve all been complaining for over 10 years to get them fixed and they haven’t been solved, and now there’s more- part of the sidewalk/driveway is gone somewhere.

The park across from us needs to have the trees picked up off of it, and it needs to be inspected so it’s safe for the kiddos. It could’ve been a lot worse if Florence hadn’t weakened, if it had stalled any longer.

IDK why u read all of this but for that I give u smooches. I guess this is just why I won’t be evacuating again unless its a Cat 5 barreling down on my ass because this was just 2 stressful 4 my frag ile ass. I guess if you wanna know more u can dm me but hey im just tryna survive in a third world city in America like the best boi i can be.

Just wanna shoutout the hotel desk girl who got us a room, the old tire man who spared out thin wallets and speedy service and that lady from Lumberton who I hope at least is somewhere warm and safe because GOTDAMN was our shelter cold as hell, like I felt like it was a solid 40 degrees in there. Plus all the little peeps along the way who helped us out in minor ways.

Also did I mention ppl driving in the Sandhills are rude and aggressive as hell? Yes? Well, I’m saying this again. They are the kind of ppl to road rage ur ass.

Just keep the smaller cities in the wide circle of Florence’s thot circle of destruction.

Yeet dabs

               ~Jek

[jacewilliams1]

Are pilots rediscovering how to travel by light airplane?

By long standing tradition, baseball players never talk to a pitcher in the middle of a perfect game—if everything is going well, why jinx it? The same mindset applies to pilots, who are often hesitant to acknowledge good news for fear of chasing it away. I’m going to violate that unwritten rule because I think it’s worth exploring an interesting development: general aviation is doing surprisingly well during the coronavirus pandemic.

If it feels like the traffic pattern is crowded and the flight school next door is busy, you’re not alone. ForeFlight reported piston airplane flying over the July 4 weekend (as tracked by their app) was up 10% on 2019, while turboprops were up 8%. AOPA reports that, after a major decline in March and April, members’ flying hours picked up significantly in June and July. Calls about financing are up too, as some pilots have decided this is the time to buy an airplane or finish a rating. This is hardly a revolution, but some GA airports are busier than airline hubs right now.

I’ve noticed the increase in activity on some of my recent trips, from the Southeast to the Midwest. A few weeks ago, I landed at Custer County Airport in South Dakota, a beautiful but remote landing strip close to Mt. Rushmore that was buzzing with activity. As I took advantage of some cheap self-serve fuel, another pilot wandered over to chat (from a very Covid-appropriate 10 feet). He was flying home to Denver in a Cessna 172 after visiting family in the area. A scenic two-hour flight in the Skyhawk was easier than a six-hour drive and safer than flying on an airline.

Two things are worth noting here. First, a lot of the strength is in light airplanes—as the 172 pilot illustrates, this isn’t just a business jet boom for billionaires escaping the city. And secondly, a lot of the activity is because people are really going places, not just practicing landings. Both of these are encouraging developments, because I believe traveling by light airplane is one of the most rewarding things you can do in life (it is the tagline for Air Facts, after all).

Public vs. Private

Some pilots may be breaking state-mandated health rules and behaving irresponsibly, but what I’ve seen so far is the opposite—pilots are using airplanes precisely because they allow for social distancing. This is part of a larger trend, as people around the world reevaluate how they get around, comparing the tradeoffs between public and private transportation.

Customers are voting with their wallets right now and airlines aren’t winning.

Public transportation is almost universally weak right now. Uber rides have declined by 75% almost overnight, the New York City subway is unusually quiet, and TSA screenings for airline passengers are down 70% from 2019 levels (although they are up noticeably from the bottom in April). While the risk of getting sick from an commercial flight appears to be low, passengers are voting with their wallets right now and airlines aren’t winning.

Private transportation, on the other hand, has seen renewed interest. Car sales in China are up 15% over last year as more commuters decide the hassle of traffic beats the risk of a bus ride during a pandemic. In America, you can’t hardly buy a bike or an RV right now because sales are so strong. Even house prices have risen, contrary to most predictions from late March, as people invest in their quarantine locations instead of concerts and restaurant meals.

General aviation certainly falls into that private category, and has benefited from the rapidly shifting social norms. Flying club members have found new value in their 1/12th ownership in a Cherokee. Airline pilots have taken early retirement or been furloughed, and they’re getting back into general aviation airplanes either for fun or for a new career. Million-milers have started to consider private aviation instead of United. And employees working from home might have just a bit more time to pursue a new activity like learning to fly. This renewed interest in aviation is not universal and it could easily fade away, but so far it seems genuine.

You don’t know what you have until you lose it, and over the last four months many Americans have realized how much they like to travel. Sure, some business trips are a waste of time and the three-hour layover at O’Hare is nobody’s idea of fun, but travel is a defining characteristic of our country. Visiting a customer five states away or taking the kids to the beach are relatively routine experiences in the 21st century, not some exotic idea from a 1930s science fiction magazine. When that easy travel went away this spring, people noticed.

A new type of travel?

In addition to how we’re traveling, where we’re traveling has also changed. With most foreign borders closed and cruise ships parked, national parks and lake houses have become 2020’s preferred destinations. For GA pilots, these are ideal places to fly—no need for 2000-mile airplane range and passports, just a duffel bag and a quick flight. 

I did a version of this in July and was thrilled with the results. I used a piston airplane to take my kids on a quick lake vacation, and with a convenient airport near my destination I could do it in a day, eliminating the need for hotel rooms and other travel logistics. I never would have tried this in a car, and the nearest airline airport was over an hour away. We never got closer than 20 feet to another person, and enjoyed every minute of it.

Many state parks still feature convenient airports.

In many ways, we’re rediscovering some great ideas from 50 years ago (heck, even drive-in movie theaters are making a comeback). While we’re mining the past, pilots should take inspiration from this time period, general aviation’s golden age. Flip through an Air Facts or Flying magazine from the 60s and 70s and you’ll see all kinds of interesting ads, some of which seem foreign in today’s world. One promoted a golf course with an airport nearby, using the catchy headline “Drop in for tee.” Oklahoma encouraged pilots to “try a flying vacation” and see their fabulous state lodges, five of which featured lighted airstrips. The message was clear: airplanes are for going places and having fun.

Some of those state park airports may be a little run down these days, but most are still around, making regional trips in the US convenient and fun. They’re part of a network of 5,000+ public airports, one of the crown jewels in America’s transportation infrastructure. 

It’s even possible that technology might allow for more relaxed schedules and easier flight planning for some of these new travelers. Need to stay a day longer because of bad weather? Zoom and cell phones mean many people can work remotely while waiting for the storms to move out.

Piston airplanes might have a role to play in business travel as well. While the Fortune 500 companies are using their business jets, smaller companies might appreciate the privacy and flexibility of a Cirrus or a Cessna 310. If people really leave big cities like New York or San Francisco due to remote working policies (a popular prediction right now that I’m a little skeptical of), workers could find themselves living much closer to a general aviation airport than before. It’s easier to start flight training in Manhattan, Kansas, than Manhattan Island. 

Encouraging new pilots

Of course to support real growth in general aviation flying, we’ll need to train new pilots. That will take a renewed commitment to flight training. In addition to ads about fly-in destinations, those aviation magazines from 50 years ago were also packed with encouragement for new pilots. Full page Cessna ads show the simple 150 and offer $5 intro lessons. Another one offers renters a convenient new option: “Lease-a-Plane offers America a new system in General Aviation. Now you can rent a plane as easily as you rent a car.”

Magazines from the 1960s and 70s were packed with ads for fly-in destinations.

Such ideas are unlikely to come back, but newer ones offer some hope. AOPA’s recent work to grow the number of flying clubs is starting to pay off, with over 1,000 groups in their database. These offer affordable flight training programs with a social infrastructure to keep new pilots engaged, and should be the first point of contact for many new pilots. The growth of the experimental airplane community means pilots can travel in comfort without spending $500,000 for a new airplane.

Another new technology might help pilots at the very earliest stage. Microsoft’s new Flight Simulator game, out this month, represents the first totally new simulator in years and looks simply amazing. It’s attracting a lot of attention, from the general public as well as aviation enthusiasts. I know Microsoft Flight Simulator was a critical step in my path to becoming a pilot, starting in the early 90s; perhaps the latest edition will hook the next generation while they’re spending more time at home.

Perspective

Of course I don’t really want to go back in time, and nostalgia can be crippling as well as inspiring. Leisure suits and high inflation can stay in the 70s. In aviation, I’d much rather have datalink weather and WAAS approaches than Flight Watch and NDBs. Other than fuel prices (which are 30% higher today than they were in 1980, adjusted for inflation), I agree with Richard Collins’s philosophy: “may the good old days never return.”

It’s also easy to overstate general aviation’s recent strength. There is still plenty of bad news in the world, whether it’s significant Covid-19 outbreaks or massive airline layoffs. A small bump in flight activity does not signal a return to the glory days. However, we shouldn’t bury our head in the sand either. In the wake of a once-in-a-lifetime public health crisis and economic collapse, the fact that our little corner of the aviation world has survived is worth celebrating. More importantly, it’s worth building on.

The post Are pilots rediscovering how to travel by light airplane? appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2020/08/are-pilots-rediscovering-how-to-travel-by-light-airplane/

[tripstations]

Cities by the sea: six great beach towns in Europe | Travel

Cádiz, Spain

It was a real pigeon’s eye view. The guide atop Cádiz’s Torre Tavira (€6) manoeuvred the concave viewing dish up, down and around, showing us watchtowers, churches, palaces, dockyards – and dozens of roof terraces with flapping laundry. The camera obscura at the top of this 45-metre tower, the tallest of 129 built in the 1700s for observing merchant ships, is a perfect introduction to Spain’s most ancient city, and in particular its maritime position, with sea on three and a half sides.

This camera obscura makes ingenious use of magnification and mirrors, but it is helped enormously by the intense light in this city, capital of Spain’s Costa de la Luz. Cádiz is also nicknamed tacita de plata – silver cup – for the way the westering sun glints off the sea; it also makes the white marble west face of Santa Cruz cathedral glitter like a disco ball.

Europe map

What’s also obvious from the tower is that Cádiz is a perfect destination for those who like sea and sand but also a bit of urban buzz. Right in the old town, La Caleta is the smallest city beach, but still 450 metres long, and lovely enough to stand in for Havana in Die Another Day (Halle Berry, binoculars, orange bikini). A stroll to the south, Santa Maria beach is a family favourite, with calm water and a couple of chiringuitos (beach bars) on wide pale sand between two breakwaters.

And these are just a curtain raiser for the four miles of unbroken sands stretching on south, starting with La Victoria (bus 1 or 7 from the old town), preferred by many young gaditanos, offering chiringuitos, pedalos, beach sports, outdoor cinema on the beach, and lots of bars and clubs on the prom behind.

Santa Maria del Mar beach, Cádiz. Photograph: Jeronimo Alba/Alamy

As recently as 15 years ago Cádiz was a dodgy place, known more for drugs and prostitution than tapas and boutique hotels. Things have changed a lot, but not to the extent that tourism pushes locals’ lives to the margins. Just minutes from the cathedral square the narrow streets are home to low-key bars and greengrocers, and a historic covered market dealing mainly in fish and seafood such as oysters dredged that morning. The sea views from parks and tree-filled squares loud with birdsong are simple pleasures, but don’t miss sights such as the oldest Roman amphitheatre in Spain (entrance on Calle Meson, free); two fortresses, San Sebastián and Santa Catalina, flanking La Caleta with art exhibitions and great views back to the city; and the Beaterio catacombs (€6) for a sobering view of Cádiz life and death in centuries past.

Where to eat

La Taperia De Columela.

Tapas is the way to go, with the option in many places of “supersizing” to a media racione. Cádiz doesn’t quite have a gay quarter, but our guide, dancer Sam Gordillo Conejo, took us to its “gay corner” and purple-painted, David Hockney-decorated tapas bar La Gorda te da de Comer (the fat woman feeds you. Tapas such as salmorejo tomato dip and bright green spinach croquetas cost from €2. Restaurante Balandro, facing north over the bay, is altogether posher, but sit up on high stools at the back bar and you eat the same food (small plates from €5) as in the main restaurant. In the evening, get to locals’ favourite Taperia de Columela before the 9pm rush for interesting tapas such as aubergine “chips” and tuna lasagne (about €18 for two including a glass of wine).

Where to stay Near the cathedral, Casa Nautilus is a converted period house with central atrium, roof terrace and 15 rooms, some with traditional glassed-in balconies (doubles from €59, room-only, but help-yourself coffee, tea and biscuits). Owned by the same people, the Spanish Galleon is more hostel-style (doubles with shared facilities from €35, apartments from €65). It has amazing views from its large roof terrace, and a new ground-floor cafe doing breakfasts from €2 and a €6 vegan lunch.

Getting there Trains run to Cádiz from London via Paris, Perpignan (sleeper) and Madrid. See loco2.com for details. Liz Boulter

Toulon, France

La Verne beach, Toulon. Photograph: Jacques Dreano/Alamy

The Côte d’Azur feeling starts soon after the eastbound train leaves Marseille: pale pink houses with apricot-coloured roofs, sharp spires of cypress trees, blue sea glimpsed through the spreading branches of umbrella pines. The line runs on to the millionaire playgrounds of Cannes and Monaco, but its first stop is Toulon, capital of the less-frequented and more affordable western Riviera.

Founded by the Romans and a major naval base since the 15th century, Toulon also happens to have the warmest and sunniest climate in mainland France, and beaches of all kinds along 30 miles of inlets and peninsulas.

Like many ports it once had a rather dangerous reputation, but today it is welcoming and visitor-friendly, with an integrated public transport system covering buses and the sky-blue ferries that ply its enormous natural harbour, linking the old town with beach resorts on its southern rim (10-trip ticket €10/€6.90 under-26s).

Toulon has an enormous harbour and fine public transport. Photograph: Getty Images

So there’s a choice: base yourself at the beach and ride the ferry into the city for shopping and culture, or stay in the buzzy old town and make seaside day trips. Either way, it’s a 25-minute ferry ride between the port (bottom of rue d’Alger) and the wide sandy beach of Les Sablettes, with the Fernand Braudel botanical garden. From here the coast path runs around Cap Sicié headland, passing other beaches and coves, including small, shingly La Verne, and Fabrégas, with black volcanic sand. Water sports lovers can explore on a paddleboard or kayak from Sablettes yacht club.

Ferries also run to the peninsula of Saint-Mandrier, which has beaches on its southern coast and a cute marina on its city side, and there are more sandy bays in the upscale eastern suburb of Le Mourillon (bus 3 from Boulevard Strasbourg). The former fishing hamlet of Anse Mejean is particularly special: a semicircular bay of gin-clear water tucked under Cap Brun fortress and home to L’Escale, a waterside restaurant run by a former Toulon rugby star. (It’s usually possible to walk there from Le Mourillon, but the coast path is undergoing major reconstruction this year; take a taxi.)

L’Escale. Photograph: Liz Boulter

Toulon old town is vibrant thanks to a scheme offering tax breaks to young startups: atmospheric streets are lined with small seasonal bistros, vintage shops and galleries. The authorities also recently reopened formerly bricked-up alleyways (similar to Lyon’s traboules) under medieval buildings and made all museums (except the Naval History Museum) free. Check out the Asiatic art gallery, photography museum and contemporary Hotel des Arts. And if you’re struggling to get your head around Toulon’s watery geography, ride the cable car to the top of 584-metre Mont Faron (€7.80, take bus 40 to its foot), and it’s all laid out below.

Where to stay Le Cannier is a feet-in-the-sand fish restaurant (plat du jour €13) run by sisters Nathalie and Emmanuelle Frizzi. Eight simple, fan-cooled doubles (from €75 room-only) on the first floor have balconies overlooking the beach. In town the faded but friendly and central Little Palace has doubles with aircon from €67 room-only. Gîtes sleeping four near Les Sablettes cost from €500 a week, and Camping La Presqu’île has a pool, kids’ club and mobile homes from €420 for four (check for last-minute deals).

Where to eat

La Note Bleue

In Fabrégas, Il Gusto (formerly Chez Didier) does Italian food and a Friday grand aioli (the Provençal dish of fish, shellfish and veg with garlicky mayonnaise). Of several beach restaurants at Le Mourillon, La Note Bleue is a good bet, specialising in barbecued local fish. In town, tiny Le Baron Perché, in a small square near the port, offers a short, daily changing menu including veggie mains and Corsican specialities.

Getting there Trains run to Toulon from London St Pancras International via Lille or Marseille, typically taking just over seven hours. See eurostar.com for details. LB

Rovinj, Croatia

Photograph: Alamy

Ideally, your first glimpse of Rovinj should be from the Adriatic. Then you’ll see the elegant bell tower of the baroque church of St Euphemia rising above a sea of terracotta rooftops and pastel-coloured houses. But however you arrive (the nearest station, Kanfanar, is 15 minutes away, while Pula airport is 40 minutes south) the charms of what is undoubtedly Istria’s prettiest coastal town will soon be obvious.

The Venetians left their mark on Rovinj after five centuries of rule – the Italians, too, from 1918 to 1947. The Istrian peninsula is officially bilingual, signs pointing to Rovigno as well as Rovinj. Perhaps because the old town was an island until 1763 when the channel was filled in, the medieval cobbled alleys and charmingly minute squares haven’t really changed. It’s one of the chief pleasures of the town – just wandering along the lanes before finding one that takes you to the water’s edge.

One alleyway to look out for is Ulica Grisia, which is lined with artists’ workshops and galleries. On the second Sunday in August it turns into one long open-air art gallery.

There are plenty of islands to explore for visitors to Rovinj. Photograph: William Manning/Getty Images

While the old town’s peninsula is ringed with rocky swimming areas, including a series of concrete steps creating a beach near St Euphemia, the best beaches are to the south. Outside two of Rovinj’s poshest hotels, Monte Mulini and Hotel Lone, is a sheltered bay with pebbly beaches along with very smart sunloungers available for rent. From here cycle and hiking paths through Zlatni Rt lead to more secluded beaches as well as a rock-climbing area on the western side of the cape.

The sprinkle of islands around Rovinj makes for a satisfying day – or evening – trip. The island of Sveta Katarina is a 10-minute boat ride away (£3.65 return), and offers a dreamy view of Rovinj that’s even more wonderful at sunset. Crveni Otok (Red Island), a 20-minute boat ride away (£5 return), is a relaxing place to swim, snorkel and stroll through forest trails. It’s actually two islands joined by a causeway, and, with no cars, it’s a sublimely peaceful spot. But pack some swimming shoes to make the most of the pebbly and rocky beaches.

Where to eat Leave the harbourside restaurants to the other tourists and book ahead for La Puntulina (mains from £18), where a small terrace overlooks a rocky beach near St Euphemia. The cuisines of Italy and Istria are fused so closely that it’s hard to know where one ends and the other begins. That translates into a lot of truffles – with ravioli, steak, pecorino cheese or sea bass – as well as grilled langoustines, prawns and octopus. Tucked away in a narrow alley, Mali Raj (mains from £12), serves pasta, risotto and grilled meats and seafood on a vine-covered terrace.

Where to stay

A room at the Melegran, Rovinj

Set in a restored townhouse, intimate little Melegran has the feeling of a boutique hotel and is on a cobbled lane in the middle of the old town.

Getting there Probably the nicest way to arrive in Rovinj is to take a train to Venice then a ferry from San Basilio terminal (2hr 45min). Mary Novakovich

Cagliari, Sardinia

Poetto beach. Photograph: Getty Images

“And suddenly there is Cagliari: a naked town rising steep, steep, golden-looking, piled naked to the sky …” So wrote DH Lawrence in 1921 on sailing to Sardinia. Almost 100 years later the city that made the writer “think of Jerusalem” is just as impressive.

The Phoenicians had a trading port here in the eighth century BC, and the city was later fought over by Carthaginians, Romans, Pisans, Spanish and Piedmontese. How these various invaders felt about sunshine, white sand and turquoise sea is not recorded, but they could get them all at Poetto beach, five miles of palm-lined splendour a 15-minute bus ride from the centre (route PF or PQ, €1.20).

Get off at Via Gorgona for toddler-friendly shallow sea, or stay on three stops to 16th-century Torre Spagnola: beyond here there is a couple of miles of “free beach”. The seafront path is well-used by joggers, rollerbladers and cyclists; there are also diving and sailing clubs, beach volleyball and more.

Poetto is long enough not to feel too crowded even in August, and the water stays warm well into autumn. On summer evenings it’s buzzing as city workers hit its bars and fish restaurants. Behind is Molentargius natural park, with lagoons, flamingoes and bikes to hire.

Sunset from St Remy bastion. Photograph: Getty Images

For a break from the beach, or for those who don’t want to lie in the sun, Cagliari has more cultural offerings than might be expected from a city of 150,000 people. The former Royal Arsenal is now the Citadel of Museums, home to the national art gallery (good for contemporary Sardinian artists) and museum of archaeology plus an Asian gallery, an ethnographic museum and a startlingly graphic museum of anatomical waxworks.

Nearby, Cagliari’s Roman amphitheatre (€3) is being restored: there is talk of a Unesco listing, though for now it’s still untidy and crumbling. Below it, the university botanical garden (€4) is cool and shady on a hot day.

The granite and limestone St Remy bastion, built in 1896, has curving steps to a vast terrace with benches and palm trees, home to a Sunday flea market. The covered promenade beneath has been restored as an art space. Behind it, steep Via dell’Università leads back several centuries into the medieval old town, Castello. Torre del’Elefante, built in 1307, with a little stone elephant carved into one side, used to guard its western entrance. Visitors can climb this and Torre di San Pancrazio on higher ground to the north, for amazing views (€4 each).

A short walk away, via alleys barely wide enough for a Fiat Cinquecento, is Cagliari’s 12th-century cathedral, with its striking pale gold facade of stacked arches. The old town hall across the square also holds contemporary art exhibitions.

Where to eat

La Caravella, on Poetto beach

Cruise ships put in regularly at Cagliari, and restaurants in the streets between the port and the old town cater for this captive clientele. A better bet is the Villanova district, on the eastern flank of Castello’s hill. Its 18th- and 19th-century squares and streets are pleasant to wander, and home to gems such as Locanda dei Buoni e Cattivi (Inn of the Saints and Sinners), which does Sardinian slow food specialities such as clams with spicy confit tomatoes, and an exquisite artichoke with soft egg yolk in filo pastry.

For a cheaper dinner, Pizzeria Il Fantasma up the pedestrianised street does great pizzas and antipasti at outdoor tables. Of Poetto’s many “beach clubs”, one of the best is La Caravella, which does great things with tuna, clams and bottarga (three-course lunch €25), as well as pizzas in the evening (from €5.50).

Where to stay The Buoni e Cattivi has five rooms (from €85 B&B) and three self-catering apartments sleeping four (from €80 a night, in houses nearby. Set around an elegant interior courtyard, Hostel Marina has spacious dorms with single beds (from €20) and no bunks. Or float off to sleep on a nine-metre motorboat moored in the small marina south of Poetto (en suite cabin from €85).

Getting there Ferries run to Cagliari from Civitavecchia (near Rome), Naples and Palermo. There are also ferries to other Sardinian ports from Genoa, Livorno, Toulon and Marseille. LB

Volos, Greece

The promenade, Volos. Photograph: Getty Images

Like most mainland ports in Greece, Volos isn’t especially pretty. But this lively university town —the gateway to the islands of Skiathos, Skopelos and Alonissos— has a lot going for it. Ancient history, modern culture, and a fantastic food scene make Volos an attractive base for exploring one of Greece’s most stunning coastlines: the Pelion peninsula just to the east.

You’ll barely bump into any other foreigners in the backstreets behind Volos harbour. But you will find a handful of intriguing landmarks: the handsome Archaeological Museum, brimming with neolithic and paleolithic artefacts; Volos City Museum, which recounts the lives of local tobacco workers, footballers, and refugees through photographs and household objects dating back to the 1800s; and the old Tsalapatas tile and brick factory, a monument to the city’s industrial heritage, which doubles as an exhibition and events space.

Wandering around the old quarter of Palia is like peeling back the layers of the city’s long history. There are ancient amphorae left in situ by archaeologists, an Ottoman gunpowder depot, a Byzantine castle, and the loveliest train station in all of Greece —a yellow building with carved green woodwork built in 1884. Apartment blocks have become a canvas for Greek and international graffiti artists. Pick up a map of the city’s 40-odd murals from the tourist information office, or book a walking tour with Pelion Culture (pelionculture.gr), led by local archaeologist Yota Pantou.

Tzasteni bay near the village of Milina in south Pelion. Photograph: Getty Images

Flat and compact, Volos is easy to explore by bicycle. Join the locals freewheeling along the seaside esplanade to the city beaches that begin at Anavros. Or push on to the lush Pelion peninsula, which crooks its finger into the glassy sweep of the Pagasitikos Gulf. The tree- and taverna-lined beaches on Pelion’s south side are sheltered from the winds. Those nearest to town — Gatzea, Kala Nera, Boufa, Lefokastro — can get crowded, especially at weekends. Young guns and high rollers head to the beach bars poking out of the pine trees at Afissos. Families prefer sandy Milina, where you can take a boat trip to the tiny islands of Alatas and Prasouda, or all the way to snoozy Trikeri, adrift off Pelion’s southern tip.

Mountainous Pelion has its wild side, too. From Volos, it’s a winding drive over wooded ridges and through stone hamlets to the Aegean coastline, where the road drops down to wide-open beaches and bright green coves hemmed in by cliffs.

Where to stay Most hotels in Volos seem to be stuck in the 1980s. Aegli (doubles from €90 B&B) is the exception having been renovated in 2016. The best rooms have balconies overlooking the port. At the Domotel Xenia Volos (doubles from €125 B&B), the dreary interiors don’t quite live up to the 1960s architecture; but the beachfront location is a knockout.

Where to eat

Demiris, Volos.

Pick up red pepper pie, olive biscuits and tsoureki (Greek brioche) from Palios Fournos bakery (56 Krokiou Street, Palea) for a picnic on the beach. Around 2pm, Volos comes to a standstill as locals hit their favourite tsipouradiko. There are literally hundreds of these ouzo-and-meze bars in Volos, mostly no-frills, neon-lit joints where Anthony Bourdain would have felt at home.

Each karafaki (little bottle) of tsipouro, a grape distillate that comes with or without aniseed, is served with a titbit or two. You don’t order – the chef-patron just brings a succession of (mostly fishy) delights, that get more generous with each round of drinks. Try Demiris for fresh sea urchin and scallops, or To Filaraki (Averof 3 Nea Ionia), where you’ll be treated to cured mackerel, char-grilled octopus, and the perfect potato salad. Call it a night with an ice cream sundae at Minerva (Argonafton 53), a classic seaside café that stays open all hours.

Getting there Volos railway station is close to the harbour and served by local trains from Larissa (38 miles away), which is on the main Athens-Thessaloniki line. From Thessaloniki there are trains to Belgrade, Sofia and beyond (the Belgrade route is only open this year until 16 September, see seat61.com). EasyJet flies to Volos (Nea Anchialos airport, 40km away) twice a week. Rachel Howard

Ostend, Belgium

Photograph: Olivier Djiann/Getty Images

Ostend is called koningin der badsteden (queen of the coast), a nickname that evokes its majestic belle époque hotels and villas. Most of these were destroyed in the second world war, but there are still jewels from the era such as the 1883-built Wellington Racecourse, which holds regular race meetings, and the 1907 railway station, where most visitors arrive.

Other historic attractions include the spectacular neo-Gothic St-Petrus-en-Pauluskerk church, with its ornate twin towers. Its design was inspired by Cologne cathedral, but despite appearances it was actually built just over 100 years ago. Out of town to the south-west, the open-air Atlantic Wall Museum is a major attraction, if a sombre one, with its 60 German second world war bunkers. Happily, it is next to the recently renovated Raversyde scenic area.

From the station, it’s a 10-minute walk to the four-and-a-half-mile-long beach: its western end is backed by high-rise buildings but the sand is lovely and can accommodate thousands. In summer, trains to Ostend are always packed with daytrippers carrying beach paraphernalia and filling the carriage with holiday vibes. Towards the harbour a cluster of beach bars opens in summer, offering cocktails, tapas and music in the shade of palm trees and white umbrellas.

Summer beach bar, Ostend. Photograph: Robin De Raedt

Belgium’s largest coastal city is riding a wave of renewal. Until about 10 years ago, this queen was looking decidedly shabby, but today it oozes cool, thanks to events such as Crystal Ship, an annual arts festival transforming the streets and buildings with vivid murals and installations. This year’s edition added 10 new permanent artworks.

A 10-minute walk from the railway station a former post office from 1947 is now a popular cultural centre called De Grote Post, with arts events in its side rooms. The main hall has been restored beautifully to its former glory, and everyone comes here for coffee or a bite to eat in the popular CultuurCafé. Try the geitenkaas (goat’s cheese) encased in brickdeeg (literally “brick dough”).

CultuurCafe, Grote Post, Ostend. Photograph: Alamy

East of the centre and port, Oosteroever is a quieter, more natural stretch of beach, dominated initially by the 1811-built Fort Napoleon. It can be reached by car or bike, but it’s more fun to take the free ferry that departs from near the Vistrap, the fish market. Buy some shrimps from one of the stalls (€3) and hop on. It doesn’t get more Ostend than this. At Oosteroever, a walkway on the top of the Oostelijke Strekdam (Eastern Breakwater, part of the harbour defences) leads out into the sea. Near the foot of the Oostelijke Strekdam, the Phare East sailing club offers kayaking, surfing, windsurfing and kitesurfing.

Where to stay

Upstairs Hotel. Photograph: Gevel Balie

The new industrial-chic Upstairs Hotel (doubles from €65 room-only) is a 15-minute walk from the station and right behind the beach on Hertstraat. The lobby has table tennis, table football and a yellow slide popular with children (and adults). Between the beach and the harbour channel, the recently renovated Providence by Getaway (two-bed studios from €52), also enjoys a prime location and hip coastal vibes.

Where to eat

Expo & Kafie. Photograph: Nick Decombel

Ostend used to be associated with tourist traps – the coast road, Zeedijk, was brimming with them – but a slew of excellent new restaurants has opened. Sanseveria, a 10-minute walk from the station, serves great bagels and salads (€13.50 for bagel, dessert and a drink) and is run by Bert Vanheuverzwijn, who used to work at Michelin-starred Hof van Cleve near Ghent. The cosy interior is decorated with his grandparents’ furniture.

The coffee comes with homemade chocolate cookies. Another newcomer is Expo & Kafie, right behind the Zeedijk. The breakfasts feature Greek yoghurt and honey, artisanal bread, eggs, bacon and smoked salmon (from €10). This summer Chez Paulette opened Panorama on the roof of De Grote Post. The bar/restaurant has superb views and serves great homemade drinks (beetroot, ginger and carrot €6.50) and cocktails (€12), and dishes such as cod with smoked mozzarella and fresh herbs (€28). Delightful tapas too, from €9. Be aware that Panorama shuts in strong winds.

For something more traditional, try the The Old Inn , a five-minute walk from De Grote Post towards the beach. There are just two dishes on the menu at this delightful restaurant with walls covered in antique posters of Ostend: steak (€23) or fish (catch of the day, price varies). Annie started this business in 1969 and still reigns supreme in the kitchen. Her husband René brings the hand-cut fries and homemade mayonnaise to your table. Desserts (€7) are local classics dame blanche (ice-cream with hot chocolate sauce) or pancake mikado (my favourite).

Getting there Trains run from London St Pancras to Ostend via Brussels, taking from 3hr 32min. See eurostar.com for details. Veerle Helsen

Looking for a holiday with a difference? Browse Guardian Holidays to see a range of fantastic trips

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[ecotone99]

[MF] Smoking Crack and Shooting Dope

Original article here: https://ad-venturing.com/2019/03/25/smoking-crack-and-shooting-dope/ ​ After graduating high school, I didn’t know what to do with my life. I didn’t get good enough grades to go to a four-year college, I didn’t want to join the armed forces and the job market was shot. I worked part-time as a lifeguard at a local pool but ten hours a week wasn’t’ enough to cut it. I graduated high school in the spring of 2009, in the middle of one of the worse economic downturns the United States has ever seen. I decided community college was the path I would take. Get the gen-eds’ out of the way then two or three years down the road figure out what the hell I would do with my life. And to be honest, I had no fucking clue what I wanted to do. I was still immature at that age. Spent most of my free time at drinking with my best friend Worm at this dad’s house. Worm’s dad was a bad alcoholic and would let us drink and party with him. It was a fun time. Never a dull moment. Never a sober one either. When I wasn’t hanging out with Worm I was either partying with other people or pissing my parents off. I had a rebellious spirit at that age and my parents didn’t take kindly to that. In general, three thirds of my free time were spent in Worm’s room drinking. Worm’s room was dingy. It was a small room with a bed, a computer and a couple of chairs. There was a bookshelf on the wall filled with Stephen King books and a few movies. Filled ash trays lined the computer desk along with empty bottles of malt liquor and the occasional Busch Light his dad left. Bottles of piss were shoved under the bed and a pile of dirty clothes were stacked at the end of the bed. Empty packs of cigarettes were thrown on the floor. Worm and I would spend our free time drinking malt liquor, smoking weed and fucking around on the internet. When the weather was nice we would have a fire and party outside. There was always music playing in the background. When I decided it was time to pass out I would sleep in Worm’s bed. Worm would stay up due to his insomnia and sleep when I was at community college. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and he would be so far gone listening to music or watching a movie. It was crazy to me how little he slept. We were both single at the time and spent a lot of time messaging random chicks on the internet. Most of the time I think they thought we were weird but occasionally some would want to meet up with us. Both Worm and I were broke at the time so we couldn’t take girls on nice dates or anything like that. Instead we just took them back to Worm’s room to hang out. Thinking about that in hindsight, taking nice girls back to Worm’s room was probably the wrong move. If I was in their place I don’t think I would have been too impressed given the empty beer cans, 666 marks etched everywhere, and ash trays stuffed with cheap cigarettes. Though, we did hide the piss bottles. Most of the time when we brought chicks back to Worm’s room, we would smoke weed then awkwardly try to make conversations. Ninety percent of the time we wouldn’t hear from them again. One night we were scrolling through Myspace and found a chick named Nancy. Nancy was a punk rock chick and listened to the same music we did. I decided to reach out the her and see if she wanted to chill. She responded back quickly telling me she was at a music club in a town 45 minutes away. She told us she was bored and if we came to pick her up she would chill with us. We decided to make the drive to pick Nancy up. Back then gas prices were around $4.20/gallon and working ten hours a week barley paid for my gas, let alone anything else I wanted to do. Worm didn’t have a job and resorted to pawning random stuff in his room to buy weed. This was an expensive trip for two broke kids. After hitting a bong, we took a drive out of nowhere town to another nowhere town to meet up with a pretty girl. We blasted Rancid and sung along to “California Sun”. Eventually we made it to the music club. I texted Nancy and she told me she will be out in ten minutes. Worm and I decided to smoke a cigarette and wait outside of the car. When the cigarette was halfway done Nancy came out of the club. Nancy was short with jet black hair. She was wearing black tights, a black Leftover Crack hoodie and had tattoos all over her body. Her eyes stood out to me as unusually big and blue. She probably weighted around 100 pounds and was half my height. Nancy isn’t the kind of girl you bring home to your parents for dinner. I could tell that about her the first time I met her. She seemed sketchy. I guess anyone who listened to Leftover Crack and had tattoos on their neck were sketchy, including myself and Worm. When she talked to us the first time she sounded high. Had a slow way of talking where words were slurred. When you looked into her eyes a blank cold soul looked back at you. Later I found out she was loaded on Xanax and a handful of other pills. Nancy asked us if her 14-year-old cousin could hitch a ride back with her and chill with us for a while. I told her that is fine, and she went back into the club to grab her. We then headed back to Worm’s place to chill. On the ride home Nancy told us that Rancid was her favorite band and she was glad we were listening to them. Worm lit up a joint and we smoked it. Nancy and her cousin didn’t smoke with us. Ten miles from Worm’s house we got pulled over for running a red light. “Shit”, I thought. I was certain we were fucked. We had just smoked a joint 30 minutes ago, and I was freaking out. Nancy was also loaded given the way she talked. She told us she was high on Xanax and some other pills when the cop was checking out my license plate. Luckily the lady cop told us to be more careful with our driving and let us go. I thought Nancy could have been a decent chick to go on a date or two with, but I found out quickly that I didn’t want to mess around with her. After we got back to Worm’s room she started talking about all these dudes she was fucking at the same time and the drugs her brother was doing. We asked her if we could film her brother shooting heroin and she laughed saying she would have to ask him. After that night Worm told me we had to be careful around this chick. I agreed with him. She is the type of girl the law follows, and you would catch something from. We hung out with her a couple more times then stopped talking to her after her boyfriend got pissed she was hanging out with us. ******* It had been around 6-7 months since the last time I talked to Nancy. It was the summer of 2010. Haiti was just devasted with a massive earthquake the previous winter and in 11 days President Obama would declare an end to combat operations in Iraq. I still spent the majority of my free-time with Worm. In the fall I would meet my future wife at community college. My life would be forever changed. I was sitting in my room and got a ping on my Facebook from Nancy. Myspace was officially dead, and society transformed into the new social media dimension. She posted on my wall asking how I was doing. I told her I was good and asked her how she was. She told me that she started to do heroin but was clean for now. I knew her older brother was a junkie and wasn’t too surprised that she followed his path. She then told me she broke up with her boyfriend and that I should come hang out with her and her brother at a summer festival the city puts on every year. It was my birthday and I wanted to get drunk, so I decided to go. I told my parents I was going to stay at Worm’s house that night. For some reason they never cared that I stayed there even though they knew his dad was a bad drunk and it was a poor environment for a kid with angst. But I’m not complaining, it gave me more of an opportunity to get fucked up. At the summer festival I wore plaid yellow and red pants a punk kid who listened to “The Causalities” would wear. One leg of the pants was yellow and the other was red. I donned a “Leftover Crack” shirt that said, “Kill Cops”. I just caught a misdemeanor in the spring and had to serve a day in jail in a few days. I looked and acted like I was a pre-convict with no future. I was ready to get fucked up and forget about my troubles with other punk rock kids. I met Nancy and her brother on a bridge over the river. The bridge was cloaked in trees that made it look like a tunnel into a different world. The river was flowing from rains that summer and it was around 90 degrees out. Nancy was holding hands with a punk rock dude I skated with a couple of times. I knew he did hard drugs and was certain Nancy was either back on them or will be back on them soon. Nancy’s brother, Sid, was as short and skinny as Nancy. He had a cut-off t-shirt showing off his full sleeves, tattoos on his neck and a buzz-cut hair cut with an 8-10-inch rat tail. Sid and I instantly hit it off and became friends. We walked to the nearest liquor store and Sid bought some 40s for us. I wasn’t 21 at the time and still needed someone to buy me booze. We spent the rest of the night drinking beers on the bridge and talking about music we liked. After the festival was over we walked back to Sid and Nancy’s parents house to crash. I was drunk off my ass walking back, and cops were all over the place. We took a back way to their home, so we didn’t get stopped by the cops. If they stopped us, I would have gone to jail given my age and due to the fact, I was on probation. When we got back to Sid and Nancy’s place we went to their basement where Sid sleeps. Nancy and her boyfriend followed us but left after her boyfriend started to get dope sick. I passed out a few hours later. A few days later Worm and I were hanging out looking for someone to buy us beer. Worm’s dad was out of town and the fridge was empty. I told Worm we could see if Nancy’s brother would buy us some beer. Worm hadn’t met Sid yet and I only hung out with him on the bridge during the summer festival. I texted Sid and he told us he would buy us beer only if I would drive him to the city to pick up drugs. Worm and I didn’t think twice. We thought driving to the city to pick up hard drugs would be an adventure and something new to experience. We were adrenaline junkies looking for the next journey and decided to get some hard drugs. We picked up Sid and Nancy at their parents’ house. Sid and Nancy were ecstatic and ready to get loaded. They planned to pick up some heroin and crack with the forty bucks they had. We blasted punk rock on my shitty stereo on the way to the city. Our first stop was to pick up heroin. We picked it up in one of the worst areas in the city. This was my first time driving through the hood. The house we stopped at was run down. Siding was falling off the house. Rusted out cars lined the driveway. Beer cans covered the stone porch. A guy was sitting on the lawn in a long-chair smoking a cigarette. He looked like he was about to pass out, holding the cigarette to his lips for dear life. You could tell he was a seasoned junkie. Sid began telling Nancy he didn’t want to go grab the heroin. He said the black guys in there made fun of him for his hair and tight pants and made him feel uncomfortable. Nancy said she would grab the heroin. It seemed like Nancy took forever. I was paranoid and kept checking the rearview mirrors to look for cops. I started to feel like this was a bad idea but kept my cool in front of everyone. Eventually Nancy walked out the door. After she got in the car she told us the guy selling her the heroin told her to come into the bathroom to get it. She followed him, and he pulled out his dick telling her to suck it. She said she grabbed the heroin and walked out. Sid got upset and told her he didn’t like her going in there. I thought Sid was a coward for putting his little sister in that situation. Before grabbing the crack, we headed to a McDonalds, so they could shoot it up. I asked them if they could wait to get home to do it, but they refused. When we got to the McDonalds Worm and I kept lookout while they prepared to shoot up. To prepare the heroin Sid pulled out a spoon and put the heroin on it with some water and a piece of a cotton ball. Nancy pulled the needles out of her bra where she kept them for safekeeping. After sucking the heroin up in the needles, they tied their arms off with the safety belts in my car. Worm and I both watched with fascination. I think they both thought it was weird how interested we were in watching them shoot up. To Worm and I, it was a new experience, a different type of adventure. It was exciting. Immediately after they shot up they changed. Became a type of zombie with slurred speech and eyes that looked like they were falling asleep. Nancy got way higher than Sid. I could barely understand what she was talking about. She wined and bitched about life. Sid was still coherent and was ready to buy crack. Buying crack was a better setup than the heroin. To get crack you drove your car into a car wash the dealers owned. You would then give the dealers your money and they would give you the address of where to meet them in ten minutes. We met the dealers guy in a sketchy van down an alley. Sid went out and grabbed the crack. Before we knew it, we were back on the highway. After getting off the highway Sid and Nancy lit up a crack rock at a red light. Crack smoked filled the car. I think Worm and I got a contact high, but it could have been all psychological. After they were done smoking crack a cop pulled up next to us at the red light. My knuckles turned white gripping the steering wheel. When the red light turned green the cop went one way and I went the other way. A breeze of relief ran through me. Eventually we made it back to the nowhere town in nowhere land. Sid bought Worm and I some beer and we dropped Sid and Nancy back off at their home. It was quite the adventure to get the few beers we could afford. Adrenaline ran through our blood the rest of the night. I haven’t talked to Sid or Nancy in years. The last time I checked Sid was clean and has a kid. Nancy is in and out of jail and hops from shitty boyfriend to shitty boyfriend. Nancy is still a junkie and will likely die one. A very short time in my life was spent with Sid and Nancy. I created some interesting stories with them that I will likely write about in the future. Feel free to follow “Ad-Venturing” to keep up with my writing. Until next time,

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[ichangedmymindalready-blog]

Day 6 Begin with the end in mind. You’re beautiful

As I am writing about these days, they seem so long, I have done so much! Today, I woke up in the new area, I was so glad I did not get caught. However, I woke up and one of the first things I did was roll a blunt, it seems so normal like what is wrong about putting leaves into another leave. Well, a dude with bike walked by and scared the crap out of me, he wasn’t paying attention to me but I instantly got scared so I guess im the prejudice one. Or he just wasn’t paying attention. I finish rolling the blunt, took me 2 min - new personal record. I dip out to the nearest and cleanest gas station, get dressed, take my pictures and get out. Its time to explore the other side of this highway. Its a little map I made, there is one high through two sides of a part in downtown Atlanta. Each part is a different town, I explored the other side yesterday with the movies and such but today is museum day. Chyeah! So I go to a diner called “Atlanta Breakfast Club” and its super known in the Atlanta community. I walk in and get seated by a guy in a sweater. I ask him if I could sit on the side where there is a blackboard with drawings on it, to gain inspiration for the creative shit I’m about to do. He says that side is not being served so he sits me in the middle of the cafe. WHERE DA OUTLET, all the way across the room. So I open my laptop - around 30% - what da heck. I try and do some work, order a coffee, watch a lot of beuatiful people walk in and out of the cafe. I like people watching, there are so many people in the world and to me they are all not real unless you make them real so I try to learn peoples stories or just learn about people. I feel I suck at doing things with people or I haven’t found the right people but either way Ill figure it out.  I like watching people, talking to people but creating relationships suck unless they have that connection but its hard because ive learned some people don’t have that connection until later and I think its hard for me because lately its been awkward with people and I do not have a best friend, just me. Anyways, after my laptop dies, I sit for awhile until I have the nerve to ask the waiter to move spots. I finally move spots, get busy into work for like 7 minutes but first can we talk about how coffee or caffeine makes me inspired, gives me hope, but also makes me lean and vibrate its crazy. I need that drug in me without that shit. So I decided to not only do work but apply for hella jobs in ATL only applied for two because I got stuck trying to figure out somethings and I want to leave the O but I got some unfinished business there.  I got to stop trying to live my life by other peoples path but Im really not, I just want to move but RUkstyle needs me and the church. Once I get those on the feet I feel like maybe more ideas and opportunities that are more and better for me will come up but I still like ATL. Cant wait to travel more. Anyways, so how got online is that I ask the “ATlatna Breakfast Club”(ABC) sweater guy who now to me seems like the manager, if they have a social media team or marketing team. I let him know Im down for that shit, he asks to see all my stuff, gives me the wifi and everything, because they dont have wifi. Boom online and showed my work to this guy for about 10 minutes and gave him my card hope everything works out! I hate half asking shit so im gonna stop that habit first letts do this shit. Anyways done with ABC, I drive around the area for twenty minutes trying to find parking, park, smoke half the blunt in the parking lot next to a school, forgetting that  I decided to look for jobs at the museums so who goes to a job interview high, damn I got to get my shit together. So I get all my shit, takes me a while but I feel so dope because I love backpacking adventures. So I see that the school is a dope story from the outside so I take some pictures, go back to my car to get my camera manual so I can really get this shit looking nice. I finally get some good pics continue walking to go to a civil rights muesum across the street from ABC. AS I walk there its not cold anymore kinda hot but not too much. Im high as hit and feeling so fucking good. I finally get there and across the street is ATLANTA MISSION: ENDING HOMELESSNESS and I’m so hype because I know I can help in some way shape or form with media so I make note to go to that after the mueseum and find their hr. So I walk to the museum and just off the bat  the building is one of the most beautiful things ive seen, I spend a good hour outside just taking pictures of it. Then I go upstairs to go inside nad they sayits 19 dollars - dude thats all I got let so im like nah lets see how much the other museum is. I call the other museum - 15$ - I can do that but still have doubts. Well, the Coca Cola world is right across from thsi and I’m not really that interested but I do want a glass coke or two for 1.50$ YESSS.  Get two cokes and walk back to the car oh SHIT I need to go to the homelessness place. I finally go there and cant find the door, so I call and they tell me to look online. Figures. Anyways, so now I am back at the car, I put everything up and go inside the school. This school is top fucking notch. Uniforms, tv, and security. I ask for HR - in a meeting but they said they will email me so thats cool! I go back to my car, drive to a gas station near the concert venue  to change its only 230 but I want to be ready. o h yeah did I mention today is the AMINE CONCERT. Anyways so I get dressed for halloween, take some pics, drink a coke, smoke the rest of that blunt nad then witness  THE VARSITY - another well known DRIVE IN restaurant in the community. Im like I got to at least get fries but as I cross the street I see a guy with a broadcast camera on the bridge coming off the high way. So I drive in the resturant parking lot and they have a fucking two story drive in. I go to the second story cause when will I be able to do this again. I take some pictures from teh second floor, of the city and the place and then I drive down cause its not a drive in part just a parking lot. I park and still see the guy with the camera walking away on the highway so I get out and run, in my Jim as Dwight suit feeling like fucking clark Kent with my tie flying everywhere and my curls just bouncing. I catch the cameraman and ask him what is happening with film and photography in ATL, any spots? He says he moved here from Valdosta and just bought a camera, what a guy. Well I gave him my card and told him my story. He seemed kinda interested hopefully these people call. I run back to my car before its towed or something and look around, therses no’ button like sonic so I go to car with this black lady in a suit she cracks the window and tells me how it works. I wait look at my clock its 245, spend time on thsi or money on the museum. I end up going to teh muesum but see theres only paid parking, cut that shit, smoke the rest of yesterdays blunt WHICH I FORGOT ABOUT and go to find parking for the venue takes me about an hour, but I finally find parking for $4 totally worth the perseverance of finding cheap parking. Its right next to the venue but my ass went around and couldn’t find it, I asked a police officer and he pointed me to the right direction. SO THIS PART OF TOWN IS CALLED UNDERGROUND BECUASE ITS ACTUALLY UNDERGROUND THIS CONCERT WAS UNDERFUCKINGGROUND WHAT THE HELL. SO im underground and see a whole bunch of hot girls I mean decent but beautiful waiting in line and this is how the conversation goes.

Me(high as fucking shit): Hey are you waiting for the amine concert? Is this the VIP LINE?

Girls: yes

Me walks to the end of line

Girls: I mean yes but not VIP.

Me: Oh okay

Girls: What are you dressed up as?

Me: Do you watch  The office?

Girls: Yes (get excited) and points

Me thinks I feel a connection that they get that im Dwight so I just jump in the air and squeal: Yo im so glad you get it (walks away happily)

Im not really sure if they got it or I just think they did but I feel bad because I left and I dint know.

Anyways , I realize im hungry as shit so I go find some food. I see this guy who looks cute from behind but not really the face thinking he still cool enough to be my best friend I ask him if he knows any good places to eat, he’s not from here and trying to find the same thing. Im like okay and walk in teh opposite direction on purpose. I wish I could’ve saidwel do you want t look around with me. Thats a good way to make friends but still a lot and I didn’t. Anyways, I go all the way to the other side of town and see a completely Nasty looking asian place, it wasn’t nasty it was actually too hot to tell but it tasted nice asf. Like everything seemed wrong about the place it even smelled bad but I was hungry and I gave it a try. Im proud. So after that I walk all the way back and sit in line waiting for amine. The place is underground so im just glad to be there so hype about it all. I finally get called in with the others with my badge and everything, Im kinda nervous. I see him, still on edge. I show him my video for move the right way, he tells me to send it to his assistants email so I do!, I ask him to guess my outfit (Jim as Dwight) for halloween he doesnt watch the office but his best friend does and loves the outfit and gives mea high five. He asks what do you want to do for the picture I say something stupid cause you and your friends are stupid and he’s like you calling me stupid and im like oh shit NO stupid as in weird. I feel bad now, I take the picture and wait overthinking my life for the show to start. The show is blasting bad boy records and im so bout it. I know every song, I dance to my self in the crowd. I meet some people who seem really cool one person from Orlando too. The opener comes out, Towkio, in his set he asks for dancers, some girls come on stage, INCLUDING ME. The music starts playing and the girls start twerking , almost jump off the stage but instead I start cramping dopes. Amine comes on after that and he’s going in, I wish I knew the lyrics, I honestly truly just enjoyed the concert, I sang maybe 3 songs but Caroline was everything. After that, we dance it out with a dj and im so hype, people say they like my dancing and was happy and left home.after getting lost.

[absolutelyflawedyetagain-blog]

To Vélo’v or Not: a little (a lot) of practical advice

Lyon is the perfect city for cycling. The city of Lyon has exerted a lot of energy to make cycling the easiest mode of transport, there are cycle paths EVERYWHERE! On top of that they have the Vélo’v, a public bike sharing system that invokes glittery images of a harmonious future utopia. Whichever direction you’re looking, I bet that you can see a Vélo’v station.

Citizens of Lyon, exchange students, and tourist alike can all enjoy the wonderful Vélo’v experience. Tourists can purchase one ticket, a day ticket, or a multi-day pass all at a Vélo’v station, convenient n’est-ce pas? Students get so many benefits in Lyon in all sectors of life and these freebies and discounts don’t stop at the Vélo’v, students pay 15 euros for a year’s subscription to the Vélo’v. This makes life very easy, you basically tap your card and go!

You can pick up a Vélo’v express card from these town halls/partner points or you can order it online and have it mailed to you. Personally, I think picking one up at the town hall is much quicker and hassle free, but you do you.

Once you have your card, just go to the Vélo’v site click on ‘Mon Compte’ and follow the promps! Walk pass a Vélo’v station and activate your card. The next time you need to get somewhere quick or fancy a little joy ride just find your nearest bike station: tap you card, enter your pin, select your bike, click it out, and you’re on your way!

C’est simple!

Mais ce n’est pas simple.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve benefited heaps from the Vélo’v, especially when I’ve been out in the city at 3am and the metro isn’t running and I have to be on the other side of town from where I am. Although it’s a fun and fabulous idea of which Lyon should be proud, there are definite downsides.

I’d say the major downside is finding either a bike to use or a place for the bike you’re on. Let’s use an example taken from real life experience. It’s Thursday night, student night, and you want to go out but it’s past midnight and the metro has stopped. Yes you could walk an hour and a half to where you need to be, but it’s windy and 8 degrees. You look for a Vélo’v station nearby and out of 6 nearby stations, only one has a bike and it’s a 15 minute walk from where you live. So you walk fast, Kel style from Kath & Kim to race the other three people going for the last Vélo’v.  

T’as chance! You get there first and you swipe your card and take your bike. You’re riding fast down the almost empty streets of Lyon. The wind is flying through your hair and the cool air is invigorating. You are ready to party till dawn, ain’t nobody gonna stop you.

Maybe no one, but something. You arrive at the Croix-Rousse pumped for your night out. Problem? Yeah everyone else had the same friggin’ idea! You pull your phone out to search for the closest Vélo’v station with a parking spot available. Ah c’est chiant! The station is a 30-minute walk back in the direction you can from. So you ride. You’re a little upset about the prospect of walking 30 minutes back to the club, but you can’t keep the Vélo’v locked up near the club. Why you ask? Well that’s a stupid question, it’ll end up costing you a lot, also there is the possibility that someone could nick it (it happens) leaving you with the 150 euro fine.

So you’ve found an inconvenient Vélo’v station with a free spot. You try to slot the bike in its place but it doesn’t work and it beeps continuously, put! You try again, and again, and again. Now you’re frustrated and people are watching you struggle to put the bike in. A passer-by approaches you and offers his/her assistance, they line the bike up then push from the back, beep beep, you look a fool! But hey, thanks! Now for the 30-minute walk to the club…You get what I’m saying?

Tips

 To put the bike back: line it up with the slot and push from behind the seat forcefully. Wait to hear the two beeps/see the green light, then try to take it out just to make sure it’s locked in properly. If it isn’t and you walk away someone could take it and you’ll be fined 150 euros, also you won’t be able to take out another bike until your previous one is returned properly.

Before selecting your bike at a station look for the one with the most suitable seat height (you can change this but it’s a hassle if you’re in a rush). Also, check the tyres and breaks of your chosen bike before you select it from the machine. My friend only realised mid cycle that the tyre was flat :/ Watch out don’t select a bike with the seat set backwards, that’s the signal for a shitty bike!! If you have a shitty bike, do the next person a favour and turn the seat backwards so they know. 

Make sure you top up your Vélo’v card from time to time. The first 30 minutes are always free, but what with the extra time it takes to find a spot for your bike, a twenty-minute ride can easily turn into 45 minutes and if there’s no money on your card you won’t be able to use a bike next time. I found this out at 5am…  I recommend toping it up before your first ride so you won’t have any problem the next time you try to get a bike.

Road rules: It’s complicated but most cyclists don’t really follow the road rules. The cars are used to cyclists but still it’s important to ride on the RIGHTHAND side of the road, check for cars coming from your left and right, and to stop at a red light if it’s dangerous. Many cyclists ‘grille de feu’ which is just their expression for running a red light, because often it makes more sense to go with the other cyclists or it’s just turned red and in a way it’s more dangerous to stop. Fais attention! This is technically illegal and les flics (cops) can pull you up on it and give you a fine. Just use your head.  

In conclusion, Vélo’v is great fun, an awesome part of Lyon, and an unmissable experience. If you’re a tourist or an exchange student staying for a semester, I recommend getting a Vélo’v subscription. If you’re staying longer than 3-4 months I recommend getting a Vélo’v card for convenience but to also buy yourself a second-hand bike from this site. You can pick up one for under 100 euros and resell it when you leave. This way you’ll get both the spontaneity from the Vélo’v, plus the security perks of having your own bike that you can lock up anywhere. : )  

Some handy apps for finding stations include:

Citymapper- (I use this as it includes all transportation in Lyon)

AllBikesNow which is the official app for Vélo’v

[challengingpride]

Rural Gaze and Rural Gays

     I grew up in a small, southern town of roughly 3,300 people. Mostly white, mostly conservative, mostly Christian, and mostly straight It was really easy to forget that gay people existed. There weren’t many outward expressions of hate towards gay people, but there were many microaggressions and comments. Walking through my high school, one could hear many comments covertly slighting gay people (granted, as someone who grew up there, it was hard to recognize a lot of these behaviors/comments as homophobic, but in retrospect they are very clear)-- “if his butt twitches when he walks, he’s gay”; “don’t talk to him he’s gay”, and in regards to men getting their ears pierced “Left is right, right is wrong”. Surrounded by people that are all taught in the same Sunday Schools, it is easy to assume that homosexuality is a sin. Sins are punished by God, but many took that as their personal job to also punish the gays. But again, it was easy to forget that gay people existed. They were too scared of persecution to exist. That being established, I did not come out until college. I questioned my sexuality for the first time my freshmen year of high school. Assuming there is no way I could be gay, I put it out of my mind until later in my high school career. By that point, it began to eat me up, consuming every thought. So, I decided to come out in college. Was the prospect of the accepting peoples of urban area part of why I was looking forward to college? Perhaps. Yes. But I would technically be a “rural gay”. I paint the picture of my hometown experience to show the reader the difficulties that do exist in being gay in a rural area. However, some people stay. 

     I am gay. I am from a rural area. I follow the “rural gay moves to a city and finds fellow gays” narrative. However, I have seen members of my graduating class come out, and they did not leave my small town. They exist in a world full of back roads, agriculture, and saying hi to your neighbor. I exist in a world with access to resources, understanding, acceptance, a queer family, clubs, celebrations, and support that I could not get from my hometown. I cannot imagine living a happy and fulfilled life in an area without those things and urban areas seem to be the only place I can get those things. When I think of my time in my small town, I think of bigotry, close mindedness, and republicans. I cannot imagine a member of the LGBTQ community living there happily. However, it happens. And according to a study by sociologists Chris Wienke and Gretchen J Hill, there is actually no difference in the actual happiness of urban gays and rural gays (Wienke, “Journal of Homosexuality”). There is a general idea both inside and outside of the community that there are no gays (or at least happy gays) in rural areas because there are no resources. However, this statement/belief is problematic. The assumption that there are no gays/happy gays in rural areas breeds the idea that there should not be any resources in rural areas because there is no one that needs them. This is the very type of erasure that the bigots and homophobes in my hometown enact, yet here members of the community do it as well. This kind of thinking leaves many people who either chose to stay in rural towns or those that are unable to leave at a loss for support-- whether legal or emotional. Urban Bias is the assumption that members of the LGBTQ community and other minorities are automatically going to move around cities and this simply isn’t true. Many are not able to move because of money, but also why can’t gays enjoy living in rural areas? While there may be an equal amount of happy gays in rural areas as compared to urban areas, there are significantly less resources allowed to them. It is rumored that there is a secret gay club 30 minutes from my house. Googling the nearest LGBTQ organzation to me (which again is 30 minutes away) is just three churches in Lynchburg that are in support of members of the LGBTQ community (Equality Virginia, Faith Community). Looking further into the Equality Virginia website, if I were to click on the “need support” tab, I would see a list of major cities in Virginia, the closest to me being Roanoke, 60 miles away (Equality Virginia, Faith community). If I were to need legal advice in specific regards to my sexuality, I would need to drive to either Roanoke (a major city 60 miles from me), and if I had a car that couldn’t make it through the winding roads to Roanoke, I would have to drive 130 miles to Richmond (Equality Virginia, Legal Advice).This is a matter of bias as it is not only a rural/urban bias, but also of classism. All of the organizations that offer LGBTQ support are literally all away from my southern, rural town. I am lucky to be able to drive to these places and to be able to go to college outside of my area. It is not fair, and frankly classist that there are no available resources in these rural areas. 

      The best example I have of a rural gay is a classmate from high school who we will call Cary. Cary came out after high school, but from what I have heard, she had been dating women since before she graduated. She would meet her partners online or by dating the other out gays in the area (they were few and far between, but they were there). Despite Cary’s ability to find partners, I knew from being from the same town, that there were not many resources beyond online dating. There were few opportunities for her to meet up with other members of the LGBTQ community, and more importantly, few places for her to talk about her experiences and her concerns in being a small town, rural gay. Having had been able to be my full authentic self in college, I dread going back to my hometown full of unknowing homophobes. I don’t think i’ll ever be a full fledged rural gay ever again. I enjoy nature and I enjoy the friendliness, but to me, going back home is going back in the closet and back to a place where I am judged and shamed for loving who I love. In conclusion, being a rural gay is very much a matter of preference; rural and urban gays are no more or less happy than one another. However, the assumption that the urban gays deserve more resources than the rural gays because there is less need is truly detrimental to the individual and to the community. Cary doesn’t have legal or organizational support and that is where the problem within that lies within the bias against rural gays. 

- Ivy

Sources: 

http://www.equalityvirginia.org/resources/political-social-organizations/ http://www.equalityvirginia.org/resources/faith-communities/ http://www.equalityvirginia.org/resources/legal-resources/

[mysurveys]

Random Qs

Survey #27 on the Countdown to 2018!

This survey was also done last Tuesday.

What’s the date today?

It's April 4th now.

Are you wearing jeans?

I'm wearing PJs right now.

What comes to mind when I say the word "pink"?

Cherry blossoms and one of my old OFCs named Sakuya Momoka.

Do you believe in finding the good in people?

I've only ever been unable to find good in one person. I didn't get to know them on a personal level nor did I want to so it's not like it really matters that much.

There's obviously both good and bad in everyone, though. Having a black and white mentality about others is just childish.

Has anyone let you down recently?

No, not really.

If you married the last person you rode in a car with, what would your name be?

The last person I rode in a car with is my mother and we share the same surname.

What jewelry are you wearing and where did you get it?

I'm only wearing my fave ring that I got from my maternal grandmother. She bought it at LifeWay.

What was the last thing someone said to you?

I have no idea.

What was the last thing someone asked you?

I really don't remember that either, besides the obvious.

Did you sleep alone last night?

Yes, I did, as per usual.

What will you be doing tomorrow around 2 PM?

I don't know yet.

Was the last person you spent the night with male or female?

I last stayed the night at my maternal grandmother's while our AC was out.

Have you ever kissed that person?

I haven't even kissed her on the cheek.

What're the last four digits of the number of the last person to call you?

I'm not telling you parts of people's phone numbers. It's pointless anyway.

Where was the last place you went today?

Market Basket.

Do you tan?

I don't tan at all. I only ever burn from exposure to the sun.

Have you ever spent the night on a rooftop?

I haven't.

Have you ever played hide and seek in a cornfield?

I haven't and I wouldn't want to either.

What's the nearest big city to you?

DTD makes this difficult to remember since I don't normally pay attention to such. Beaumont? I'm not aware of the population number.

What do you consider your hometown?

I first lived in Beaumont, but that was so brief that Nederland is more so my hometown.

Are you still living there?

I'm still in Nederland, but we want to move out of southeast Texas.

Do you live within twenty minutes of your best friend?

I live with my mother who's been one of my besties since I became an adult, but the rest of them are out-of-state or in Japan.

Are you wearing socks at the moment?

I'm not since I usually take them off as soon as I get home.

Have you ever taken any foreign language classes?

I never had any formal classes for Japanese, but I picked it up fluently from my friends. It was the next best thing to being dropped in Japan and learning out of necessity.

I'm not solid with the written form yet just because it's so complex, though. And I'm not really that dedicated to learning it either. It's not entirely necessary.

Were your parents married when they had you?

Yes, they were and they were trying to have a baby too.

Are they married now?

Yes, they are.

Would you marry someone 30 years older than you if they had millions?

I wouldn't marry someone just for their money since I'm not a gold-digger.

What was the last irresponsible thing you’ve done?

I don't often act irresponsibly of my own volition, but I did use my Zeroes as a crutch last month. There were so many physical pains going on in my body that I noticed how Zeroes alleviated it with an emotional feeling.

That's part of why I'm going to schedule an appointment with a new therapist soon. I need better coping mechanisms.

How long were you employed at your last job?

I've been on disability since I was seventeen so I've never had a paid job. Someone with Bipolar insomnia, dyscalculia, DTD, and long-term memory problems can't really hold a steady paid job. The only "work" I do is for my nonprofit group as a result.

Are you very stressed at the moment?

I'm not really feeling stressed right now, but I am pretty tired.

Who was the last person to make you cry?

It was partly due to my mother's lack of understanding and assistance, I think. That was sometime last year.

At least I'm guessing the last time had something to do with all of my hormonal issues involving endometriosis, hypothyroidism and diabetes. That was before I finally got a hysterectomy to alleviate some of my problems.

Did they apologize for it?

She did multiple times, but I discovered that they were empty words until the point that I had a mini breakdown. And even after that I had to lose my cool again after she was being a bitch about helping me get a non-drowsy pain medication.

Not only did it say it would make me drowsy and dizzy, it was one I was allergic to. She'll be callous like that out of nowhere.

How're things between you and your ex?

Which ex? I only speak to two of them who're my besties. One is moving on and looking for love locally. The other is obsessive and still stuck on me despite my best efforts to dissuade him. I really can't do anything more to help him let go.

How long have you been in your current relationship or been single?

I can't remember exactly when I broke it off with Sasuke M. last year. Or was that this year? Math if I know.

Have you ever fired a gun?

I haven't. I understand the dynamics, though.

Do you come from a town with a population of less than 3K?

No, I don't.

How far is it to the nearest Walmart?

Not very far, but I couldn't tell you in numeric terms due to dyscalculia and DTD.

What was the total of the last check you wrote?

I don't think I've ever done that outside of Home Ec. so I obviously know how, but I prefer not to be involved in writing them since I have dyscalculia.

Mom mixes my finances with theirs all the time because I trust her with it. I only monitor all of my entertainment purchases very closely because that pertains to my personal budget.

Do you ever donate to charities like the Salvation Army?

I think Mom drops them some change sometimes, but I prefer to donate strictly to smaller local charities when I can.

Charity begins at home and should extend to the community around you. Paying into big corporate charity groups is an unnecessary risk.

"The Salvation Army wants people like me (gay, trans, and mentally ill) dead. So no, and I hope everyone who supports them dies an agonizing death and burns in their christian hell." ← Do you believe everything you hear without validating it for yourself?

For everyone's future reference, the verse in question is Romans 1:32 which has nothing to do with physical death.

"They know God’s Law says that anyone who lives like that should die. But they not only continue to do these things themselves but also encourage others who do them." That's the Easy To Read Version.

It's speaking to Christians about various sins and sin itself causing a person to lack eternal life through salvation in Christ. Living in sin without repentance equates to eternal damnation and death. That's not the same thing as physically dying.

Why would Christ die on the cross for people He hates or wants to die physically? That doesn't even make any sense.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have eternal life."

That's inescapably clear about the context of Romans 1:32 and the Bible says that kind of thing quite often. So don't believe everything you hear.

There will never be a deficit of humans who misinterpret God's Word without meaning to be malicious or those who misuse the Bible for their own evil ends. 

If you want to know what the Bible says about anything, open it up and start reading it for yourself. That's what you have to do with literally everything else, right?

What're some lyrics from a song you've recently listened to?

"No magic can make you reappear, but in the song of the whales you are always here." That's a lyric from Return To Me from Winx Club: Beyond Believix and it's about Musa and her mother.

Do you consider yourself flexible?

To some extent, but I ish teh fat. I can surprisingly touch my toes without bending my knees, though. That's pretty good for a fatty.

Have you taken any medicine today?

I haven't taken anything since the clock hit 12 AM.

What were you doing at 5 PM?

Yesterday I was online for a bit, but it's only 2:54 AM right now. (Why am I awake!)

What's a song that reminds you of a friend and can you describe the memory it brings up?

There are only a few that remind me of past romantic relationships. I more often relate music to fictional charries.

How old were you when September 11th occurred?

Ugh, math and timelines. I was born in 1986 on May 27th so you can calculate that yourself.

Does rain make you feel depressed?

It never has that effect on me, but I sometimes want it to end if it goes on for days or if I want to go outside.

How about winter?

I love winter. It's the oppressive heat of the summer that I hate even though that season still has its merits.

What’s the nearest holiday to your birthday?

Easter falls near it just to name a major holiday here, but Cinco de Mayo, Mother's Day and Memorial Day are all closer to the date of my birth with the last one being the closest. However, Ramadan is on the actual date.

If you found out you were pregnant, who would you tell first?

That's not even possible as I have no uterus.

Has anyone given you flowers in the last six months?

Definitely not, but I don't want to receive anything that's dying and senselessly killing things to show love is gross.

How did you meet the last person to leave you a comment?

I don't even pay attention to such and I spent a lot of last month away from all social media sites too.

How long have you known the last person to call or text you?

I've known my mother since I was conceived. I was very much alive and growing at the time.

How old's the last person you rode in a car with?

Mom is 66 or 67 right now. Dyscalculia and long-term memory problems mean that I'll never get a fix on that.

What did you do when you hung out with the last person you kissed?

That was well over a decade ago so there's no way I can recall that.

What grade are you in at the moment?

I'm 30 and I never even went to a typical high school. I was in an all-grade Christian school before making an attempt at homeschooling via the web, but I pretty much knew it was useless regarding math and science. They finally let me quit.

Where's your phone right now? Who's your provider?

What was the last chore you did?

Something to do with my cats, I'm sure.

Do you prefer online classes or real classes?

"Online classes are real classes." ← This. I tried homeschooling via the internet, but I just dislike formal classes altogether.

What's the nearest red object to you?

The label on a bottle of Ozarka spring water.

What was the last board game you played?

I'm assuming it was Monopoly since that was the only board game I ever really loved. I'm great with the logical aspects of economics, but I really should've been paying other players to count my money. LOL

What're you doing after this survey?

I might do another survey or try to get some sleep after this, but I really don't feel so tired right now. I'm pretty sure that I've gone into the point of Bipolar insomnia.

I might end up watching some TV after this if I can't find another survey that looks good. Or I'll just migrate all my LJ stuff over to DW instead. Sleep eludes me.

[touristguidebuzz]

10 Things No One Tells You About… Tokyo

Social media, anonymous postings and “insider” guides all claim to tell foreign guests about Tokyo, but the real skinny is famously hard to find. But if you ask a local what will make you feel at home in this massive and overwhelming city, they’ll tell you what I’m about to tell you now, 10 tips that’ll take you a little closer to the beating heart of Japan’s vibrant capital.

1. It Looks Like a Taxi, It Moves Like a Taxi, But It’s Not Quite a Taxi

Getting a taxi in Tokyo starts out the same way as in any US city — at the train station or airport, you line up, wait your turn and step in; on streets, you put out your hand and wave a cab down. Once you’re in the taxi, though, it’s completely different. Don’t touch the door while you’re getting in or out: It closes automatically and the driver, usually wearing immaculate white gloves and a cap, won’t like it all if you touch his car.

You can expect the driver to speak little or no English, so if you’re going to a restaurant or some other location, have your hotel concierge print out the name and a map to give to the driver — even Edokko (native Tokyoites from established local families) have a hard time finding many addresses here. As you’re giving the driver your destination, you might try to add “onegaishimasu” (meaning, very roughly, “please, and thank you for this favor you’re doing me”) for good measure. But once you’re inside, don’t talk to the driver and don’t expect the driver to talk to you. And no tipping: The driver is providing expert service and a tip is considered to be insulting.

Hailing a cab is the easy part. It’s what happens once you’re inside that can get tricky. Image courtesy of elkor via Getty Images.

2. Get Booked at Maruzen

Established in 1869, Maruzen is a stunning and famous bookstore in the heart of Nihonbashi, a district of Tokyo renowned for its many artisanal shops — the shop is so well-regarded it even makes cameo appearances in several Japanese novels. On an upper floor, long aisles are packed English-language books written by sometimes hard-to-find Japanese authors, and you can also find great books in English on Japanese society and history. Coming here is a cultural must, as you soak up the reverential atmosphere created by Japanese customers.

Some books at Maruzen are from not-so-hard-to-find authors, like J. K. Rowling. Image courtesy of Junko Kimura via Getty Images.

3. Think Paper, Notebooks and Business Cards

No country prizes paper more than Japan, and although it is a world leader in electronics, the country continues to hold true to its traditions. Itoya, located just off the main drag in Ginza, is the best stationery store not just in Tokyo, but on the planet. Two stores with multiple floors offer exquisite notebooks, sketchpads, pens, pencils and appointment books, among other things.

And since no encounter in Japan is complete without exchanging meishi (business cards), you can have yours made here in both English and Japanese — just be sure to ask your hotel to write out the Japanese you want written, and give yourself a couple of weeks for the order to be completed. With literally hundreds of typefaces and kinds of paper to choose from, you can truly make these cards your own.

Always use both hands when exchanging business cards in Japan. Image courtesy of Johnny Greig via Getty Images.

4. Learn About the Fabric of a Nation

Japan used to be a top silk producer, and while synthetics are more emblematic of its industries these days, the country still has amazing silks to choose from. Add cotton, and you’ll find that these two natural fibers are the perfect remedy to all that’s artificial in the world.

Nuno, which means “fabric” in Japanese, is a beautiful shop located inside the Axis Building in Roppongi; there’s also a small satellite shop on the seventh floor of the posh Matsuya department store in Ginza. Established by Reiko Sudo, Nuno offers stunning clothing that seems to be part of nature itself. Sudo-san’s work is displayed in museums globally — she also has bolts of fabric at the main shop, and you can purchase everything from curtains and coverlets to wall hangings.

Fabric is an art form in Japan, as is evidenced by the attention paid to making and buying tenugui, an all-purpose printed towel or cloth square. Image courtesy of Helovi via Getty Images.

5. Venture Beyond Ramen and Sushi to Unagi

Ramen is kid stuff in Japan, and attracts cult-like followers in their teens and twenties. The very best sushi restaurants will set you back $1,000 for a couple; that is, if the chef lets you in.

You should add to these culinary experiences by enjoying unagi, or freshwater eel. Grilled over charcoal (known as bincho), unagi, served on perfectly cooked, small kernels of rice and washed down with barley tea (mugi chai) or a draft beer, is one of the most pleasurable eating experiences you can have in Tokyo. Depending on the size of what you order, it’ll set you back about $30 per person but can cost much less at inferior establishments — the cheaper unagi often comes from China, though, so it’s really your call.

One of the best unagi restaurants in Tokyo is Bincho, located on the 12th floor of the Marronnier Gate shopping center near Ginza Station. Here, the eel is finished with Nagoya-style tamari-based sauce. Another terrific place is Miyagawa Honten, which has a branch on the eighth floor of the Matsuya department store in Ginza. Be prepared to wait as long as 45 minutes before eating: The eel are slaughtered and grilled to order.

Unaju is unagi on rice served in a lacquered box. Image courtesy of Kosei Saito via Getty Images.

6. If Eel Isn’t Your Thing, Tokyo Does Great Grilled Chicken

Back in the day, yakitori used to be served in smoky hole-in-the-wall joints and served with draft beer, cheap sake or high-alcohol shochu, a Japanese drink usually made from barley, sugarcane or sweet potatoes. Over the past decade or so, yakitori has become first-rate, and from famous places like Bird Land, a one-star Michelin restaurant located right next to Jiro, the famous sushi chef, to impossible-to-get-into Souten, yakitori is one of the most fun, delicious and reasonably priced ways to spend an evening in Tokyo with friends.

Four wonderful places to try it are Fuku, Toriko, Seo and Hachibei. Each one is intimate and sophisticated, with a range of chicken parts to choose from. You can stay Western by ordering wings, breasts or thighs, or opt for more traditionally Japanese options like chochin (fetal eggs still attached to uterus and Fallopian tubes). Either way, these places have wonderful wine lists as well as top-tier sake. Needless to say, reservations are necessary.

You can’t go wrong with the chicken at a place called Bird Land. Image courtesy of City Foodsters via Flickr.

7. After Dinner, Calm Your Stomach With Tea…

The tea ceremony is central to many aspects of Japanese culture. Inspired and shaped by the rigidity and repetition of Zen Buddhism, this ritual gives you a glimpse of the pleasure and pain of conformity.

One of the best places in Tokyo to enjoy this is at Toko-An, three ceremonial chambers inside the Imperial Hotel. This hotel, originally designed by Frank Lloyd Wright — although little of his architectural masterpiece remains after a 1968 renovation — was Japan’s first upscale Western-style hotel. For about $20 per person, anyone, not just hotel guests, can travel back in time through the tea ceremony. If you’d rather stay in this century, Aqua Lounge, on the 17th floor, has an afternoon tea as well. Here, you will observe the fanciest ladies of Tokyo, as well as majestic views of the city.

The Japanese tea ceremony is reverent, meticulous and totally worth the experience. Image courtesy of Brian Kennedy via Getty Images.

8. Or Drink Away Your Woes With Great Japanese Whisky

Japanese whisky is a victim of its own success. After winning numerous international competitions in the aged single-malt category, the country’s top producers ran out of all the whisky at that level — maybe there will be more from other vintages in time for the 2020 Olympics. Until then, you simply cannot buy a bottle of the good stuff.

But don’t despair. It’s still possible to get one-ounce pours in Tokyo, if you know where to go and are willing to spend $18 to $200 a glass. Zoetrope is a tiny bar in Nishi-Shinjuku where the cinephile owner (whose English is limited) has more than 300 bottles on display of rare-to-very-rare whiskies. A trip to New York Bar, high above the city inside the Park Hyatt Tokyo gives you two experiences for the price of one: stunning views of the city from the 52nd floor as well as a chance to be on what was basically the set of the film, Lost in Translation. And speaking of classics, you ought to go to Old Imperial Bar, which is dark and atmospheric, and feels like you’re in a film noir where bartenders serve the country’s best whiskies in silence.

Whisky has become serious business in Japan. Image courtesy of DAJ via Getty Images.

9. All That Jazz

For a country that values ritual, rules and classical music, it’s surprising to discover that the Japanese also love the spontaneity, depth of rhythm, improvisation and sheer vibe of jazz. At performances, audiences often sit in silent awe, taking it all in, absorbing the music until a tune ends and they applaud and cheer wildly. Blue Note Tokyo and Cotton Club have top international acts (for top dollar), New York Bar has “unplugged” sessions on Sunday nights featuring undiscovered performers, and Black Sun, Kenny’s Bar and the Pit Inn are beloved old-time favorites. You’ll find both Japanese and Western musicians transporting audiences in each of these venues.

When in doubt, head to the nearest jazz club. Image courtesy of Kent Wang via Flickr.

10. Tokyo Is a Hip-Hop City

Tokyo is at the forefront of music, modernity and being ultra-cool, and while previous generations have their sentiments about the culture of the past, the youth of this city have embraced the future. Hip-hop culture, style, mentality and music are now deeply rooted in Tokyo, neither as homage nor imitation but as homegrown responses to the challenge of living in 2017. Four of the best clubs in town to enjoy hip-hop and meet Tokyoites who share that passion are Harlem, Circus Tokyo, Vision, Club Asia and The Room.

One thing the people of Tokyo and the US have in, er, Common? A love of hip-hop. Image courtesy of Jun Sato/WireImage via Getty Images.

What are some of your favorite things to do in Tokyo? Tell us about them, below.

Featured image courtesy of kitchakron via Getty Images.