#the stuff of millennial nightmares so true

[thoughts-reasons]

[trojanteapot]

Obligatory Infinity Train Fanfic Plug I Guess

I have some new followers since I posted about my Infinity Train cosplay process so I guess now's a good time to plug my boring overly-long fanfics that are mostly sad and stuff.

SHIPPING FICS

RYMIN:

Ain't No Cure For Love: Ryan and Min-Gi perform their first gig in Montreal. Min-Gi wants to confess his feelings. (First fic I ever wrote probably a bit rough now and the only fic without any sort of theme besides "love wins" i guess) It Can't Be Helped: Takes place in the mid-2000s when Ryan and Min-Gi's band have become quite successful and are touring East Asia. Ryan has some cultural identity issues to overcome at the age of like, 40-something. (This one is much much better than the first Rymin fic, and is about more than just shipping. I did a ton of research into Japanese-Canadians and Korean-Canadians for it as well! Shout-out to my partner for his huge role in shaping this fic as he is Japanese-Canadian himself.)

GRIMON:

Raison d'Etre (PART 1) (PART 2): Post-Canon AU where Simon survives the Train. Grace and Simon spend about 4 years apart from each other living their own lives on Earth, but one day Grace shows up randomly in Quebec to pay Simon a visit. Traumatic wounds get reopened, things get emotional, philosophical, maybe even a little... sociopolitical? Also interspersed between Grace and Simon's little dates are flashbacks to the Train that explain exactly how Simon managed to leave the Train in this AU.

I separated it into two halves because the second half contains smut. However, the second half kind of needs to be read for there to be a complete story. The smut is entirely skippable and doesn't contribute to the overarching plot so I do encourage you to read both halves.

(Also of note is that this takes place not in the "present" but in the past (2018), because I am An Old Person(TM) and so I made Grace and Simon millennials. And I also didn't want to write about the pandemic. It's not that noticeable and you can ignore that timeline fuckery if you want.)

True Love Waits: (VERY VERY CURSED) Sort of not a shipping fic? But Grace gets pregnant here and we all know who the father is! So Grace needs to leave the Train before the baby is born. Canon complacent so Simon is dead. (TW: other than pregnancy there's also thoughts of self-harm and mentions of abortion)

Leave It In My Dreams: Grace's sad nightmare in Alma Mater but from Simon's perspective.

Shame On You, Blue-Eyed Fox: Grace lets her guard down and harassed by a rookie cop. Simon finally makes himself useful for once in his entire life. (TW: real world racism obviously.)

GENERAL FICS

Alma Mater: Post-Canon. Tulip starts college, is very typically Tulip about it, but she befriends an older student named Grace Monroe who helps her through it. However, Tulip comes to learn that she and Grace have more in common than they realized at first. Also Jesse and Lake get thrown into the mix and drama ensues. (Mostly canon complacent except for 1. time period, and 2. Grace is from California, not DC, but her parents work in DC.)

Initial State: A side story to Raison d'Etre. After Simon realizes he's wrong he works with the Cat to bring his number down and leave the Train. But this isn't as easy as he thought especially when he meets a denizen he's recently met before, but never expected to meet again (becausehekilledherlol).

Semi-Automatic Lonely Boy: Prequel to Raison d'Etre. Just a series of vignettes of Simon's life after returning to Earth. (TW: depictions of self-harm) Other than It Can't Be Helped, this is the other fanfic that I am the most proud of so far. Literally went and relearned French to write some of the dialogue in this.

I'll Get It Right Sometime (ongoing): Four years after Book 3, Hazel and Amelia have a pretty decent life on the Train. But this peace is interrupted when Hazel meets a passenger and decides to help him through the Train. How can Amelia keep Hazel safe? Who is this passenger anyway? Why is the Cat so interested in interfering? Why is Simon somehow involved?! Why is JESSE somehow involved?!?!??! (Note: I think Hazel ages normally, so she's 10 years old in this one.) This is also my most ambitious fanfic yet. I have an Entire Homestuck Reference chapter, a Reddit chapter, and I plan to have several Discord chapters.

[amaryllis-sagitta]

In retrospective, the shift whose culmination we see today seems to be about making hardware more uniform and the system infrastructure less opaque to anyone who isn't a developer.

Looking back as a millennial, I feel like the Gen-X are the most literate computer-wise because they dealt with all the weird pre-Windows systems and physical LAN party setups before the Internet at homes became fast enough to hold online gaming. Still, it's strange to read posts like this as a Millennial who was taught to use a PC in primary school because it was a new thing for the entire generation, and then I had to pass this knowledge on to teach my own parents to send an email and not to panic whenever "my window disappeared".

What I see in my boomer parents is a sort of a mental blockade from engaging with a typical window-based UI, like every time you could literally read something on the menu and click accordingly to perform an unknown activity, my mum has a little meltdown and wants to be taught the activity step by step so she can perform it by muscle memory. The greatest peril of my mum's boomer PC experience is that she doesn't watch what's going on on her screen outside the application in focus, she is not used to interactivity on a basic level, a robust system UI is too much for her because you need to learn to "dwell" in a structure of a certain complexity, you need to get used to the thought that a PC has a massive hidden side among all the nested folders, settings and policies. I think my dad has less problems with using a PC because he had vocational technical education before, he understands mechanical schematics and electrical installation charts and abstract structures of that sort. A classic menu is a little like this.

As a kid, I was taught basics of the structure of a pre-XP Windows system. I was taught a common technique to type using as many fingers as possible, without looking at the keyboard as you do it. I was taught how to use the Office suite, how to build a simple website using the ugliest incarnation of HTML, and how to push it to the teacher's host using a FTP manager. I was even taught basics of programming in one of the code-free visual gamified editors made solely for teaching purposes. All of it to familiarize us with a certain innate logic of software that was norm at the time.

Even as an IT worker nowadays, accessing most things I need on mobile devices as a QA tester is locked behind a hidden procedure of enabling Developer tools, and even then, if you look at the folder structure on the device when accessing it from your PC, the said structure is more code-like and obviously not meant for any end user. Or, I need to use workarounds through third party applications like iTunes to even access some stuff in the first place. iOS is a true nightmare when it comes to trying access the things Apple does not want an average end user to access.

What mostly changed since my childhood is that hardware is becoming uniform to the point building your own PC and setting it up to work is easy and foolproof, and Windows is trying to be quicker in providing some template behaviors and more "transparent" in its inner workings. The mobile device design simplified user experience to the levels of "Go to store, download app, tap and swipe, the system takes care of everything else". At the same time, the systems are more intrusive, and they heavily discourage messing around and finding out. Everything is meant to be done from the status bar, or a popup that appears right at your main screen.

Teaching my parents smartphones was a different experience insofar as notifications and popups from Android keep appearing without their consent, so to speak. They feel like they have no agency over their own phone, all they want is to make a call, the entire device with its apps and ads and intrusive messages is the enemy, and "they don't want IT" (where "IT" is an SMS from the provider, a system update notification, a push notification, information about used data, there's too many icons again, there's too much everything, yada yada). Once they learned the basics of using a laptop to click things on an Internet browser, phones started to be the opposite thing.

So this was originally a response to this post:

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Which is about people wanting an AO3 app, but then it became large and way off topic, so here you go.

Nobody under the age of 20 knows how to use a computer or the internet. At all. They only know how to use apps. Their whole lives are in their phones or *maybe* a tablet/iPad if they're an artist. This is becoming a huge concern.

I'm a private tutor for middle- and high-school students, and since 2020 my business has been 100% virtual. Either the student's on a tablet, which comes with its own series of problems for screen-sharing and file access, or they're on mom's or dad's computer, and they have zero understanding of it.

They also don't know what the internet is, or even the absolute basics of how it works. You might not think that's an important thing to know, but stick with me.

Last week I accepted a new student. The first session is always about the tech -- I tell them this in advance, that they'll have to set up a few things, but once we're set up, we'll be good to go. They all say the same thing -- it won't be a problem because they're so "online" that they get technology easily.

I never laugh in their faces, but it's always a close thing. Because they are expecting an app. They are not expecting to be shown how little they actually know about tech.

I must say up front: this story is not an outlier. This is *every* student during their first session with me. Every single one. I go through this with each of them because most of them learn more, and more solidly, via discussion and discovery rather than direct instruction.

Once she logged in, I asked her to click on the icon for screen-sharing. I described the icon, then started with "Okay, move your mouse to the bottom right corner of the screen." She did the thing that those of us who are old enough to remember the beginnings of widespread home computers remember - picked up the mouse and moved it and then put it down. I explained she had to pull the mouse along the surface, and then click on the icon. She found this cumbersome. I asked if she was on a laptop or desktop computer. She didn't know what I meant. I asked if the computer screen was connected to the keyboard as one piece of machinery that you can open and close, or if there was a monitor - like a TV - and the keyboard was connected to another machine either by cord or by Bluetooth. Once we figured it out was a laptop, I asked her if she could use the touchpad, because it's similar (though not equivalent) to a phone screen in terms of touching clicking and dragging.

Once we got her using the touchpad, we tried screen-sharing again. We got it working, to an extent, but she was having trouble with... lots of things. I asked if she could email me a download or a photo of her homework instead, and we could both have a copy, and talk through it rather than put it on the screen, and we'd worry about learning more tech another day. She said she tried, but her email blocked her from sending anything to me.

This is because the only email address she has is for school, and she never uses email for any other purpose. I asked if her mom or dad could email it to me. They weren't home.

(Re: school email that blocks any emails not whitelisted by the school: that's great for kids as are all parental controls for young ones, but 16-year-olds really should be getting used to using an email that belongs to them, not an institution.)

I asked if the homework was on a paper handout, or in a book, or on the computer. She said it was on the computer. Great! I asked her where it was saved. She didn't know. I asked her to search for the name of the file. She said she already did that and now it was on her screen. Then, she said to me: "You can just search for it yourself - it's Chapter 5, page 11."

This is because homework is on the school's website, in her math class's homework section, which is where she searched. For her, that was "searching the internet."

Her concepts of "on my computer" "on the internet" or "on my school's website" are all the same thing. If something is displayed on the monitor, it's "on the internet" and "on my phone/tablet/computer" and "on the school's website."

She doesn't understand "upload" or "download," because she does her homework on the school's website and hits a "submit" button when she's done. I asked her how she shares photos and stuff with friends; she said she posts to Snapchat or TikTok, or she AirDrops. (She said she sometimes uses Insta, though she said Insta is more "for old people"). So in her world, there's a button for "post" or "share," and that's how you put things on "the internet".

She doesn't know how it works. None of it. And she doesn't know how to use it, either.

Also, none of them can type. Not a one. They don't want to learn how, because "everything is on my phone."

And you know, maybe that's where we're headed. Maybe one day, everything will be on "my phone" and computers as we know them will be a thing of the past. But for the time being, they're not. Students need to learn how to use computers. They need to learn how to type. No one is telling them this, because people think teenagers are "digital natives." And to an extent, they are, but the definition of that has changed radically in the last 20-30 years. Today it means "everything is on my phone."

[nevermindirah]

I've been drafting and redrafting this meta post for weeks now. It's about to be 5781 and my country that was founded on settler colonial genocide and slavery and a deeply flawed but fierce attachment to democracy might go full dictatorship in about 6 weeks and it's time for me to post this thing.

All our immortals are warriors, all have been traumatized by war. But only three of them died their first deaths as soldiers in imperial armies. This fandom has already produced gallons of meta on Nicky dealing with his shit, because Joe would not fuck with an unapologetic Crusader. But there's very rich stuff in Booker and Nile's experiences and the parallels and distinctions between them.

Nile was 11 when her dad was killed in action - that was 2005, meaning she and her dad both died in the same war that George W Bush started in very tenuous response to 9/11. Sure, Nile's dad could have died in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or in a training accident or in an off-the-books mission we won't know about for a hundred more years, but he died in the War on Terror all the same. I had to look it up to be sure because Obama "drew down" the Afghanistan war in his second term, but nope, we're still in this fucking thing that never should've happened in the first place. The US war in Afghanistan just turned 19 years old. A lot of real-life Americans have experiences like the Freemans, parents and children both dying in the same war we shouldn't be in.

I know a lot of people like Nile who join the US military not just because it's the only realistic way for them to pay for college or afford decent healthcare, but also because they have a family history of military service that's a genuine source of pride. Military service has been a way for Americans of color to be accepted by white Americans as "true Americans" - from today's Dreamers who Obama promised would earn protection from deportation by enlisting, to Filipino veterans of WW2 earning US citizenship that Congress then denied them for several decades, to slaves "earning" their freedom through service in the Union Army and in the Continental Army before it. As if freedom is a thing one should have to earn. Lots of Black Americans have the last name Freeman for lots of different escaping-slavery reasons, but it's possible that this specific reason is how Nile got her last name.

Dying in a war you know your country chose to instigate unnecessarily and that maybe you believe it shouldn't be waging is a very particular kind of trauma. It is a much deeper trauma when your military service, and your father's, and maybe generations of your ancestors', is a source of pride and access to resources for you but your sacrifice is nearly meaningless to the white supremacist system that deploys you. That kind of cognitive dissonance encourages a person to ignore their own feelings just so they can function. How do you wake up in the morning, how do you risk your life every day, how do you *kill other people* in a war that shouldn't be happening and that you shouldn't have to serve in just so that your country sees you as human?

We see Nile do her best to be a kind and well-mannered invader. Depending on your experience with US imperialism, Nile giving candy to kids and reminding her squad to be respectful is either heartwarming or very disturbing propaganda. We also see Nile clutching her cross necklace and praying. From the second Christianity arrived on this land it's been a tool of white supremacist assimilation and control, but like military service, it's a fucked-up but genuine source of pride and access to resources for many Americans whose pre-Columbian ancestors were not Christian, and it's a powerful source of comfort and resilience. This Jew who's had a lot of Spanish Inquisition nightmares would like to say for the record that it's not Jesus's fault that his big name fans are such shitty people.

Nile is a good person trying to do her best in a fucked-up world. "Her best" just radically changed. Her access to information on just how fucked up the world is has also just radically changed, because everything's so fucked up a person needs a lot of time to learn about it all and not only does she have centuries but she won't have to spend that time worrying about rent and healthcare and taxes, and because she now has Joe and Nicky and Andy's stories, and because she now has Copley's inside scoop on just what the fuck the CIA has been up to. Like, I want a fic where Copley tells Nile what was really behind the brass's decisions that led to her experiences on the ground in Afghanistan, that led to her father's death, but also I Do Not Want That.

Nile was 19 when Alicia Garza posted on Facebook that Black Lives Matter. She grew up in Chicago well before white people on Twitter were saying maybe police violence against Black people is a problem. She knows this is a deeply fucked up country, and she put on her Marine uniform and deployed with her team of mostly fellow women of color, and maybe she and Dizzy and Jay marched in the streets between deployments, maybe they texted each other when a white manarchist at a protest sneered at one of them for being a Marine. Nile's been busy surviving, and she knows some shit and she's seen some shit but she hasn't had much time to think about what it all means. Now she's got time. And Joe, Nicky, and Andy are willing to listen. (Is Copley willing to listen? I could see that going either way.)

Booker might also be willing to listen. The brilliant idea of cleaning up the rat Frenchman so that Nile can have millennia of emotional support and orgasms sent me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and holy shit do Booker and Nile have a lot of shared life experience as pawns of imperial wars. Obviously Booker is white and a man and that makes a very big difference. (Though G-d help me, Booker could be Jewish and France was knocking its Jews around like ping-pong balls in the 18th-19th centuries. Jewish Booker wouldn't make him any less white but it does add a shit ton of depth of common experience: military service as a way for your country to see you as a full member of society who matters, because who you are means that's not guaranteed.)

Booker was hanged for desertion from the army Napoleon sent to invade Russia as part of his quest to control all of Europe. We learn in the comics / this YouTube video that Booker was on his way to prison for forgery when he was offered military service instead of jail time. While we don't know how he felt about the choice beyond that he did choose soldier over inmate, it's unlikely he thought invading Russia was a great idea, given he tried to desert because Napoleon like a true imperialist dumbass didn't plan for how he was going to feed his army or keep them from freezing to death in fucking Russian winter.

I find it very interesting that the French Empire was at its largest right before invading Russia and fell apart completely within a few years. My country has been falling the fuck apart for a while now - see aforementioned War on Terror, growing extremes of economic stratification in the richest country in the world, abject refusal to meaningfully deal with climate change that US-based corporations hold the lion's share of blame for - but between Trump's abject refusal to meaningfully deal with the coronavirus and strong likelihood that he'll refuse to leave office even if a certain pathetic moderate I will hold my nose and vote for does manage to earn a majority of votes, ~y~i~k~e~s.

Our only immortals who have never known a world before modernity and nationalism happen to have been born of wars that were the beginning of the end for the imperialist democracies that raised them, and I think in the centuries to come that's going to give them some very interesting shit to talk about.

Nile's a Young Millennial, a digital native born in the United States after the collapse of the USSR left her country as the world's only superpower. She's used to a pace of technological change that human brains are not evolved to handle.

Napoleon trying to make all of Europe into the French Empire was a leading cause of the growth of European nationalism and the establishment of liberal democracies both in Europe and in many places that Europeans had colonized. Booker's first war produced the only geopolitical world order Nile has ever known and I just have so many feelings ok. Nile the art history nerd is probably not aware of this, and why would she be? This humble meta author is, like Nile, a product of US public schools, and all they taught me about world history was Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt/Mesopotamia and then World War 2. Being raised in The World's Only Superpower is WEIRD.

Nile the Young Millennial is used to the devastating volume of bad news the internet makes possible. But she has absolutely no concept of a world where the United States of America is not The World's Only Superpower. In order to get up in the morning and put on her gear and point guns at civilians in Afghanistan, she can only let herself think so much about whether that American exceptionalism thing is a good idea.

She's about to spend many, many years where the only people who she can truly trust are people who are older than not only her country but the IDEA of countries.

She's got time, and she's got a lot of new information at her disposal. But there comes a point where my obsession with her friendship and eventual very hot sex life with Booker just isn't about sex at all. Nile needs someone to talk to about the United States who Gets It. Booker the rat Frenchman coerced into Napoleon's army, and Copley the Black dual citizen of the US and UK who's retired from a CIA career that he half understands as deeply problematic but half still believes in hence his mind-bogglingly stupid partnership with Merrick, are the only people on the planet Nile can talk to honestly about, and really be understood in, all the thoughts and feelings and fears and hopes of her experience as a US Marine.

And one more thing before I go get ready for Rosh Hashanah: Orientalism was a defining element of the Crusades and that legacy is painfully clear in current US-led Western military activity in Afghanistan, Syria, Israel/Palestine, you name it. Turns out memoirs by French veterans of the Napoleonic Wars are full of Orientalist language about Russia as well. I am maybe/definitely writing a fic where Booker spends his exile reading critical race theory and decolonial feminism and trauma studies monographs because he can't be honest with a therapist but maybe he can heal this way and become the team therapist his own damn self. I just really need him to read Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and then go down on Nile, ok?

[screamingshark]

I read j k Rowling had no input on the new game. Also she replied to that woman once, a pat reply to her tweeting support at her. It’s not that unusual for celebrities or other high follower count people to miss who they are replying to and i can find similar for everyone including good people. Just wanting to be against misinfo because it makes our own side criticizing her for real shit look weaker

I understand where you're coming from with this ask, but I do want to point to the top part of it. It frankly does not matter if she has any input in the game or not (which, considering how white-knuckled she is on every other aspect of Harry Potter, I highly doubt there isn't at least some input coming from her)

The fact remains that this is her universe, her IP, and the game is entirely based on it. She is 100% responsible for this depiction of Goblins and how heavily it leans on anti-semitism, how house-elves are a glorification of slavery cause they "love being slaves", the werewolves being AIDS/HIV metaphors like there is just so much nasty stuff in there that is impossible to ignore once you see it.

So, sure, she has "no-input", but even if that is true, its still a deeply messed up premise to focus a game on! They could have literally made that game a hogwarts simulator and people would have eaten it up but no, it's about a Goblin rebellion that you have to oppress. You have to put Goblins back in their place, like come on!?

To address the rest of your ask - you are denying that JK Rowling doesn't know exactly what she is doing. If that tweet had been at some random individual then sure, it may have been a misfire, but this is a campaign director for a huge conservative advocacy group. (I'm assuming you are talking about the tweet to Caroline Farrow as you did not specify)

I found that tweet on her twitter, it's still there despite the number of people rightfully calling her out for supporting a homophobic nightmare like Caroline Farrow so i'm wondering what you mean by misinformation? Is it misinformation to call her homophobic? Is it misinfo because you think she "may have been mistaken"? I'm confused because when I look at this tweet I see JK Rowling thanking a homophobe and it falls in line with her actions considering she just recently went off on the south wales police LGBT+ Network doing outreach after an incredibly violent homophobic murder happened.

I think it's time we stopped pretending that this ends at Transphobia. While it plays a huge role in her deranged tweet-fests it is very much not the only thing she condemns. JK Rowling is a right wing conservative dream. She has the admirations of millions despite being a homophobic, transphobic, anti-semitic, racist drone of a woman. She makes billions of dollars off liberal millennials who "can't bare to let go of their precious comfort books/merchandise/theme park visits/movies" and she uses that money to fund laws that ruin peoples lives.

Hmm, I went on a bit of a ramble but if anything I just said proves to be "misinfo" as you say then I will apologize and delete anything that is misinformation.

TLDR: As it stands, it is not misinfomation to call her out for these things. She is responsible for the game regardless of input and i don't feel it's misinformation to call her a homophobic, transphobic, racist anti-semite based on her tweets and the books she has written/responded to.

[peachybowen]

stupid • r.b

series masterlist

  pt.1 pt.2

pairing: ricky bowen x reader

warnings: swearing? cliche things? My writing?

songs: I think you kinda, you know by Joshua Bassett, Start of Something New by Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron

words: 3.6k

A/N: this is my first time posting/writing on Tumblr! I hope u enjoy xx

italics= little scenes? (like the scene where Ricky says: „this is a nightmare. Love is dead.”) :)

crossed words is when they usually turn to the camera you know :))

There may also be a few mistakes but I tried my best! :)

Junior year. Another year sitting in a classroom full of teenagers. Also another year of creating memories with my two best friends, Ricky and Big Red. Ricky Bowen, the cutest boy you will ever meet. Trust me on this he's so cute I-

,,Today's the day guys. It's happening.'' Ricky stated excited while nudging my shoulder. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

,,Hell yeah. Junior year, baby'' Big Red replied just as excited as Ricky.

,,Might grow a mustache. Might do a lot of things.'' he continued with a grin on his face. I just kept on walking between the two idiots.

,,Dude, I'm talking about Nini.'' Ricky said with a smile. The smile on my face was now replaced by a frown. I grabbed my backpack straps and continued walking.

,,Today's the day we start over.'' Ricky explained.

While we were walking down the stairs of East High School, Ricky said something about him and Nini texting and her sounding mutual.

,,Nothing about bad news or needing to have a big talk. Just ,,Hey.'' That's good right?'' the boy continued and turned his head to me. I just shrugged.

,,Summers are no man's land, Ricky. I don't know what ''Hey.'' means and neither does Y/N or you.'' Big Red sighed and started to walk faster.

,,I think it's good.'' Ricky breathed out and sent a smile my way which i obviously returned. Soon after we actually found Nini by her locker talking to her best friend, Kourtney. We said our hellos and it was silent for a second.

,,Can we talk?'' Nini asked and turned to look at Ricky. He looked shocked.

,,I met somebody else at camp. I didn't plan-'' she tried to explain but Ricky interuppted her asking if it was a joke. They both didn't seem to care that we stood there watching the scene unfold in front of us.

,,Still talking here.'' Nini snapped and continued.

,,I didn't plan for it to happen but it happened. He was the Music Man, I was Marian, the librarian. It's called a showmance.'' she finished looking her, now ex boyfriend, straight in the eyes.

,,Wait, you went to librarian camp? That's a thing?'' the red headed boy beside me asked. I looked at him and nudged him so he would stop asking dumb questions.

,,Please tell me you're joking.'' Ricky wailed. I could literally see the hurt in his eyes.

,,I'm not.'' Big Red and Nini replied at the same time. I kicked Big Red this time to finally shut him up.

,,Come on, Ricky you know what you did! Or you didn't do.'' Nini pointed out. I knew what she was referring to. The night she told him that she loved him. Ricky came over that night explaining everything and that he wasn't ready to say the L-Word yet. It was the night where I realized how I really felt for him. We played 'Just Dance' all night and my goal was honestly just to make him happy. He was so stressed and worried. I just wanted him to have fun and forget about all that Nini stuff, even if it just was for 5 minutes.

,,Good morning, students. Please make your way to the gym for our annual back-to-school kickoff.'' a teacher announced trough the speakers. Nini was about to leave when Ricky spoke up again.

,,I don't belive this. You're blowing me off for some theater punk you met four weeks ago? At a lake?'' Ricky asked still in disbelief that he was getting dumped.

,,You kinda dumped me!'' the girl snapped back.

,,It was a break. It wasn't a break-up.'' he corrected. At this point it was hard to watch. It was awkard standing there, watching the drama onfold in front of my eyes but I didn’t want to leave Ricky alone.

,,I'm sorry Ricky but it is a break-up now.''

,,Pop off girl.'' Kourtney, Nini's best friend, commented. Me and Big Red turned to look at her.

,,Stay out of it, Kourtney.'' Big Red hissed.

,,I'm dismantling the patriarchy this year, and I'm not afraid to start with you.'' Kourtney threatend before Nini left with her. I turned to look at Ricky who was frozen in his place.

We were sitting in the Gym soon after the whole agrument. The kickoff was boring.

,,And I am also pleased to announce that this year, seniors will be allowed to wear baseball hats on Fridays.'' the principal announced. Everyone just looked at him not saying a word. Well besides that one girl who screamed: ,,Go seniors!''. The principal continued a few seconds later.

,,And now for a special introduction. This year, East High has a new drama teacher with an announcement that she swore, in writing, would not cost too much money.'' he said and gestured to a woman who was sitting in the front. Everything was silent again. Nobody clapped besides two students.

,,Why? Why do things have to change?'' Ricky asked staring at Nini who was sitting two or three rows in front of him. We turned our heads to look at a heart broken Ricky.

,,Some things never change.'' I replied in a whisper, smiling when he turned to look at me.

,,I've been wearing the same socks for three days.'' Big Red added with a shrug. I looked down at his feet for a second and gagged dramatically. Big Red just smiled and turned his attention back to the new drama teacher. I did the same.

,,My name is Miss Jenn, and when I heard that the high school where High School Musical was shot had never staged a production of High School Musical, the musical, I was shocked as an actress, inspired as a director, and triggered as a millennial.'' she explained. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion for the second time that day.

Millennial?

,,Auditions are tomorrow after school.'' Ms. Jenn continued and looked around.

,,This show could change your lives, and I'm saying this as a background dancer from the original movie. Third from the left, back row, red headband, and those are my real teeth.'' she exclaimed happily. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nini nudging Kourtney to  indirectly say that she was gonna audition. After that she introduced us to the student Choreograph, Carlos.

Sitting at our usual table at lunch and talking about Nini was one thing, but seeing Nini being all lovie dovie with my big brother was another. And if your wondering, no, he didn't tell me that he was dating Nini. Normally he told me everything but he just decided to not tell me that he started dating the ex-girlfriend of my best friend.

,,Dude are you seeing this?'' Red asked, looking at my brother and Nini, and then back to Ricky who was looking at them as well.

,,I'm seein' it, I'm hearin' it, I'm hatin' it.'' he replied and turned to me.

,,Did you know?'' he asked with a semi angry expression on his face.

,,What? No! And you know that I would have told you if I did.'' I replied looking at him.

,,I can't believe it.'' Red muttered still watching the couple.

,,She's dating my brother.'' I mumbled turning my gaze to them as well.

,,Yes. I have eyes'' Ricky growled, clearly being annoyed.

,,Co-captain of the water polo team. Senior class treasurer.'' Red listed eating his food.

,,That's correct.'' Ricky mumbled still annoyed as shit.

,,What are the odds that the guy she hooks up with at camp goes to East High?'' the red head asked not knowing that he is annoying Ricky more and more.

,,Apparently, the odds are exceptionally good.'' Ricky snapped and I decided to show a bit sympathy.

,,I'm sorry Ricky.''

The curly haired boy turned to face me.

,,What are you gonna do?'' I asked him.

,,I don't know.'' he sighed, stood up and left, leaving me with Big Red.

,,Ok is there something you wanna tell me?'' I asked as soon as I arrived at home. EJ was sitting on the couch and was on Instagram, as always.

,,What do you mean?'' he asked looking up from his phone.

,,Oh I don't know maybe you getting a new girlfriend who was the girlfriend of my best friend by the way. How about that?'' I hinted with a mad look on my face.

,,Oh that. Yeah I'm dating Nini.'' he simply said, turning his attention to his phone again shortly after. I went to the couch and sat down beside him.

,,Why didn't you tell me?''

,,Nini told me not to say anything. She wanted to sort things out with Ricky first, you know.'' he replied turning his phone off. My gaze softened. 

,,Oh.'' I simply whispered.

,,Yeah, I'm sorry. Anyways, are you auditioning?''

,,Of course EJ.'' I answered with a smile.

,,For what part?'' he asked further.

I crossed my legs before answering.

,,Probably Taylor.''

My phone rang just as EJ was about to reply. I picked up my phone and saw that Ricky was calling me. I didn't think twice and picked up.

,,Hello?''

,,Hi, Y/N. It's Ricky. Meet me at Big Red's House. Now!'' was all he said before he hung up. I stood up and sent an apologetic smile towards my big brother before grabbing his car keys and my shoes.

,,I'm taking your car! Love you!'' I yelled before closing the door and running to the car.

,,Okay, I know it's crazy, dude, but she has to see me in a whole new light.'' Ricky explained while I was sitting on a chair and Big Red was playing a videogame.

,,But we hate musicals.'' Red argued, still focused on his game.

,,I don't.'' I chimed in, rolling my eyes at Big Red's argument.

,,I just think it's weird when people, like, burst into song in the middle of the street.'' Ricky stated, paching around in the room.

,,That is a musical.'' I retorted, looking at my best friend.

,,Okay, look. I'm auditioning for this thing tomorrow, and nothing is gonna stop me.'' he declared.

,,Do you even know the plot of High School Musical?''

,,Of course! It's about Zac Efron dancing with a basketball.''

,,Wrong. It's about the character, Troy, having to choose between being true to his friend, Chad, or following his heart with Gabriella.'' I corrected with a smirk.

,,The point is, you're out of your league here, man. You can't pull this off.''

Ricky looked at his male best friend.

,,Yeah?'' he asked.

,,Yes.''

And with that, Ricky grabbed his Skateboard and left without saying another word.

The next day was uneventful. I was nervous because of the auditions but I got through the day without having to throw up.

,,People make sure you audition number is clearly visible on your clothes. This isn't a game.'' Carlos yelled as he walked passed me. I looked down to see my audition number. Number 5. I smiled and went to talk to my brother.

,,You know, I'm actually kinda bummed that we don't have any competition here. It would make getting the leads all the sweeter.'' he said to Nini and I rolled my eyes playfully and sat down on a chair.

,,Could you stop tempting fate?'' Nini asked with a laugh and looked at her boyfriend. EJ looked back at her and grinned. I never felt more single in my life.

,,You know what? You're right.'' she continued turning her head back to the mirror in front of her. I was about to say something but Ms.Jenn knocked on the door.

,,Okay, theater people. Let's do this!''

Everyone started cheering and got up from their chairs. The smile on my face grew and I turned to my brother.

,,Good luck!'' I said and hugged him.

,,Good luck! I love you.'' he replied and hugged me back.

,,I love you more.'' was all I said before I left the room.

We all got on stage and Ms. Jenn told us to pair up with someone who wasn't our friend. That's when I realized that Ricky wasn't there. I sighed and paired up with Ashlyn. I know that Ms.Jenn said to not pair up with a friend but she did not say to not pair up with your cousin.

We all lined up and chatted till Miss Jenn started walking down the line of students. She stopped in front of a boy.

,,I'd love you to read for Ryan.''

,,You are giving major Taylor vibes.'' she said to the next girl. The next in line was Ashlyn.

,,You. You're giving me uncommon depth. Ms.Darbus?''

I looked at Ashlyn and she started smiling.

,,I'm dying. I'm deceased. Yes.'' Ashlyn replied, still smiling happily.

,,Oh. Your application says you play the piano.''

,,I dabble.''

,,You ever written a song?'' Ms.Jenn asked with a curios look.

,,Nothing I've ever shared with anyone.''

,,I always thought the drama teacher should have an Act Two power ballad. We'll sidebar.'' was all the blonde teacher said before she stood in front of me.

,,Gabriella.''

I looked at her and shook my head slowly.

,,No. I'm actually here to audition for Taylor.'' I answered a small smile forming on my lips.

,,Oh, ok.'' was all she said before she continued walking down the line.

Ricky still didn't show up and I really thought he just decided not to audition last minute. I was sitting on stage with the others. It was EJ's time to audition.

,,Okay, what do I need to know?'' Ms. Jenn whispered to Carlos.

,,EJ Caswell. Big brother of Y/N Caswell, most Instagram followers. Wakes up looking like that-'' was all I could hear from their little conversation. Soon after EJ started singing 'Start of Something New’ while Seb played the piano.

,,Well, excuse me. Armie Hammer called. He wants his jawline back.'' The female teacher joked with a bright smile on her face. I sent a smile towards him which he returned.

,,Moving on with the Taylor's and after that we're gonna continue with the Gabriella's!'' she announced while clapping, shortly after.

It was my time to audition and, boy was I nervous. I was trying really hard not to throw up on stage in front of everyone. Like, I auditioned for plays before but I wasn't like my brother who was really confident in the things he did. I'm the sibling that overthinks everything.

,,Ok Y/N start when you're ready.'' Carlos said and waited for me to start. I took a deep breath and started reading Taylor’s lines. It was the scene where she apologized for trying to manipulate Gabriella and Troy's relationship.

,,Gabriella, we were jerks. No, we were worse than jerks because we were mean jerks. We thought Troy and the whole singing thing was killing our chances of having you on the scholastic decathlon team.''

,,Thank you Y/N! Now let's hear your singing.'' Ms.Jenn instructed. My eyes grew wide and I gasped.

,,Hold on. Jade didn't need to sing and she auditioned for Taylor as well. Why do I need to sing?''

,,Just do it!'' EJ whisper-yelled. I turned my gaze to him and then back to Carlos and Ms.Jenn who smiled widely. 

,,Ok.'' I mumbled and looked at Seb who started playing the Piano seconds later.

,,Livin' in my own world

Didn't understand

That anything can happen

When you take a chance

I never believed in

What I couldn't see

I never opened my heart (Oh) To all the possibilities

I know that something has changed

Never felt this way and right here tonight

This could be the start of something new

It feels so right to be here with you (oh)

And now looking in your eyes

I feel in my heart (feel in my heart)

The start of something new.''

In conclusion...I sang my heart out.

,,Great, thank you Y/N. Let's continue with the Gabriella's!''

I smiled and sat down beside Nini. She smiled at me and I returned it. My brother sent me the same proud smile as Nini.

Gina was incredible. She was a multi-talent. I was kinda jealous. I mean I knew she could dance but she could also sing like a goddess. It was Nini's turn after Gina. To be honest, I did not think she could take on Gina. I mean she mostly played Trees and animals in plays soo...you know.

Just as Nini positioned herself on stage, Ricky came running in with his guitar.

,,Am I too late?'' he yelled, totally out of breath. Nini looked not so pleased.

,,We're all set on Troys. We're low on Chads. You can read after the Gabriellas.'' Ms.Jenn stated and turned her attention back to Nini, who still looked mortified.

,,I only studied the Troy scenes in the movie.'' Ricky told her while walking up the stairs. My brother rolled his eyes at Ricky, which lead me to roll my eyes at him.

,,Troy would have arrived on time.'' Carlos commented.

,,Thanks. Let me do the talking.'' the blonde whispered to the young choreograph.

,,Okay Nini let's try this again.''

Nini looked so much more nervous than before. No wait. She looked terrified. I didn't blame her. Having her current boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend in a room while you're trying to audition for a lead role is kinda nerve-racking.

,,You got this babe!'' EJ literally screamed. The scream startled Ms.Jenn so much that she spilled her coffee over the sound system. All the lights turned off.

,,Nobody panic! Nini, let's wait for the lights to come back on. I don't want this to throw you.''

,,I'm not thrown.'' the brunette replied. Everyone looked at her (well as best as they could.) and she started singing. Not even a minute later, Ricky got his phone out and turned on the flashlight, literally holding it in Nini's face. And of course, EJ got up and did the same. Nini was really good. Like really really good. Just as she finished singing, the lights came back on.

,,Well, thank you Nini. I only needed 32 bars but I appreciate your commitment.'' Ms.Jenn said while Carlos held up his right thumb. She turned her attention back to Ricky.

,,You, late boy.''

He looked at her.

,,Let's do the Chad sides.''

Ricky nodded and grabbed the script. It was quiet. Ricky looked at me and i sent him a (hopefully) comforting smile. Big Red came in last second as well. He held his thumbs up and smiled.

,,Hey, there. I'm Ricky Bowen. I'm a junior. And here it goes.'' he said before he started. I smiled the whole time, trying to somehow lift his spirit. He started reading the lines but stopped a few seconds later. My smile slightly faded and I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. He crumbled the script in his fist and I turned to look at Big Red who was looking at me with the same expression I had on my face.

,,I don't know. Maybe its the way Gabriella always had your back. And maybe you can't stop beating yourself up for totally blowing it with her'' Ricky began, looking at Nini who was sitting beside me.

,,And look, Troy. Even if you never said the L-word to Gabriella, 'cause that's, like, not even a word your parents say to each other anymore. That doesn't mean that you don't. Maybe it just means you were waiting for the right time to say it. So that everyone could hear it.'' he continued looking Nini. She was trying to avoid eye contact though.

,,No. That she could.'' he finished after a short pause. My smile was completely gone and I just looked at my hands.

,,Okay kiddo. Time to sing.''

Before Seb could even start playing the piano, Ricky asked if he could sing his own song. Ms.Jenn just agreed and he grabbed his guitar. And the next thing I knew was that he started singing the song Nini wrote for him. Don't get me wrong. I was so proud of him for being so damn brave but it still hurt a lot. I sighed and slowly got up, leaving the room. Just to clear my mind for a bit.

,,Clear!'' Carlos yelled as he ran past me with a blue piece of paper in his hands. I followed him, realizing that it was the cast list. Everyone was crowding around it so I didn't really get to see if I got the Taylor part.

,,"Chad"? She thinks I'm a Chad?'' EJ asked dumbfounded, his ego obviously hurt. I really thought he was gonna get the Troy part. Everyone stepped back and I finally got to look at the list.

Taylor McKessie - Gina Porter

Honestly the day couldn't have gone worse. First the Ricky thing and then the Musical. Big Red seemed to notice my sudden mood switch.

,,Y/N?'' he asked and I looked up to him with glassy eyes. He started smiling.

,,Look at the top of the list.'' he said chuckling. I did as he said and my eyes grew wide.

Gabriella Montez - Y/N Caswell

I turned to look at my best friend. I was so confused.

that's why Miss Jenn asked me to sing.

Big Reds' smile grew bigger and bigger every second. Mine did as well. But then I realized that Nini wanted the role and I practically just stole it from her. I looked at the list again.

Gabriella Montez understudy - Nini Salazar-Roberts

I looked at Nini and smiled at her. She flashed a sad smile my way and went to talk to EJ.

Big Red hugged me and, of course, I hugged him back. Ricky then stepped forward, searching for his name on the list.

Troy Bolten - Ricky Bowen

And that was definitely the start of something new.

[lordeasriel]

I’m back with my impressions, from chapter 12-19. I was gonna include chapter 20 as well, but it’s an 1 hour long, and I’m getting forgetful already, so i’m keeping it out to include after. under the cut for spoilery reasons:

Giorgio Brabandt after telling lyra about the secret commonwealth:  “You don't look like you believe a word of this”. Lyra monkey side eye meme: "I do". She absolutely didn’t. LMAO

Olivier throwing the photo of the girls away after taking Lyra's face out of it, because "the girls were too English to be attractive" what a garbage can of a man lmao he is so irritating, I cannot deal with that.

Malcolm is so sly while interrogating the murder associate dude lmaooo I love how he perceives Oakley Street members: "so liberal and tolerant, so civilised, and the organization they embodied" That was so beautiful and so, idk, romantic perhaps? Which is completely out of character for me to enjoy, but I did.

Did they turn the mausoleum into an archive? I wonder if I understood that correctly. That is a weird choice for an archive.

The fact Oakley Street is not as strong, but in fact, it is actually weaker than it was before oh no That was a sad blow. I think they’re doing everything wrong. They should be worried about recruiting, not marching into a war with the Magisterium. I love Godwin, she is powerful, reasonable, imperative, she reeks of wisdom and I love it.

Pan’s chapter where is looking for a boat to board, it made me realise Lyra’s world would be much cooler if daemons could roam free. He notes that he doesnt have the opportunity to speak and ask questions, because daemons without their people are something terrible. But if that was more widely accepted, Pan would have less trouble than he is actually having.

Pope Calvin was a dumbass, he turned an already bad is institution into a horrible corporation LMAO and it keeps on getting worse. I loved the conference so much. I think it embodies nicely how I envision them, as a nest of vipers; big Galactic Senate vibes to be very honest.

Speaking of Star Wars references, Marcel makes me think of Palpatine, all that cunning, all that slyness or whatever. He really does Marisa’s justice in some ways, but he is indeed too cautious.

His modesty speech with the woman/nun was... awful, in some ways. As in he is so blatantly manipulating things it feels too good to be true. I do like him, hell I’m attracted to him LMAO somewhere in the Abyss, Asriel is heavily disappointed with me. I am sorry, I still love you, I just find trashy men attractive, Asriel.

Olivier is irritating, but cunning, and made I’m projecting, but oh fuck, he is too much of a millennial for my taste. I think he is too cliche, sulking, brooding young man; it was fun on the first two appearances, but now it’s getting tiresome the way he is described as a persistent, clever man. It feels force, I don’t know. I’d rather he be a woman of different qualities, it would be much more interesting for me.

Marisa is Marcel’s sister, and she’s supposed to be his older sister as Olivier’s daemon tells him. I loved that, although it’s a little odd. I like the idea that they were twins better, but oh well. I wish we could have more women like her in the Magisterium’s arc, because it’s mentioned she was a prominent force. I love that, it does her so much justice.

Their mother is the stuff of nightmares LMAO but Marcel is so nasty to her, it makes me feel that the whole family has issues. I do wonder if Marisa changed her name to Van Zee, or if they changed theirs to Delamere. I prefer van zee to be very honest.

Lyra reminding herself of the time when she could intimidate gyptian boys, it was a neat display of her self assurance and I wish there were more parallels between her and Marisa because a lot of the things she treasure about her, things she now lacks, are things I think come from Marisa.

Coram telling Lyra to let Will go. Well, fucking finally, a person with a good sense. I thought she was finally gonna stop with that, but oh no, another bunch of paragraphs of whining. I can’t.

And Coram being so fragile.... I’m Sad.

“Was the universe alive or dead?” That was a horrible question that left me heavy breathing for five minutes. I too have been questioning things like these and I love the pain in Lyra’s exstential crisis.

Marcel enjoying Olivier’s discomfort: that was so funny, Marcel is so bad, but he does sometimes feel like overly mean for no reason and I wish, I don’t know, I kinda hoped that Marisa’s family would be normal, or not so nasty.

My favourite part so far, a summary: “What do you know about Marcel? Well, he is not married and we think he ain't gay.” The fact people don’t care about him because he makes himself uninteresting to tabloids is... a skill.

“Knowledge is like water it always finds gaps to leak through” That was, I don’t know, powerful? Touching? Something I relate to heavily and that I will not elaborate as of now.

Tatiana Asrielnovna 😭😭😭😭 That made me sad. The fact she thinks of Asriel for this things, and then I noticed, how Asriel comes first, and how she thinks so little of Marisa and that hurts.

Malcolm pov is smooth and entertaining and much more action-driven than Hannah's was, for many different reasons, including the fact that she was more scholar than spy, in comparison to Malcolm’s more physical disposition. I like him a lot. He is charismatic and sweet and very, very clever. But he still makes mistakes and I like it.

"Useful idiot" hahahaah I love Marcel, he is too funny and he is so done with humanity in general. I find that #relatable.

The blind girl was a nice addition, it was a sweet moment and a little sad too.

Pan remembering Lyra lashing out at Asriel. Pullman keeps on hurting me and the very few feelings I have. These little remarks, the small things about her parents, this is what keeps me so entertained to be fair. I just love the connections, I love to feel that she still acknowledges them in some way, even though they don’t deserve it.

Brande’s take on fear, which I now forget the entire quote, but that it’s a parasite to human nature, it’s powerful and absolutely and entirely wrong. LMAO Fear is what keeps us human, it keeps us alive. Lyra is constantly afraid.

Malcolm "I'mma steal a boat" hahahah he really has too much chills, even for a crime.

I loved seeing lyra contesting Talbot’s theory, which I did with her. I disagree entirely with everything he says and so does she, at least, she begins to. The man has not a single argument that is solid; he does what many people do: manipulate words that mean nothing, to a sentence so difficult to understand if you’re not sharp or focused enough, that you believe it with not a second guess. Peak Academia elitism.

i feel like Marcel’s either involved with the schools of thought that are causing a rampage or that he is taking advantage of that. It’s too convenient. I don’t know.

I did went back to LBS and I heard Marisa’s voice and I did notice that Michael chose to make Marcel speak in a very similar paced way. I don’t know if it’s deliberate or not, but I thought that was cool. They both sound smooth and condescending. I hope they mention Marisa more, I hope Lyra thinks of her, I don’t know, for a second maybe.

I had hoped to finish this weekend, but I doubt I can because there’s 9 hours left still and I can’t stay awake till late today because I work tomorrow. But so far I’m having lots of fun!

[moseswilhelm]

Now that you’re all gone, I’ve got a few squishy bits to air out. I don’t feel normal. Whether that means quirky or broken or eccentric depends on the day or hour or seconds between the particular anxiety of waiting on someone to respond to a long string of text. Internally, I’ve cycled between deciding if I am alien, demon, mutated evolution, a plaything of God, a challenge, or just plain old mentally ill. We can guess the healthier option, but there isn’t much use or fun using that.

Knowing you’ve lacked socialization in your youth doesn’t really mean much in trying to solve that problem in the same way that knowing you were just shot won’t help close the wound. What I am trying to say is I wasn’t socialized when I was young and that consistent distant feeling from your peers comes from that.  Hearing that you think differently, or have an interesting brain is a nice little compliment albeit a little condescending. Unfortunately, you can’t really monetize excellent explanatory metaphors without the true meat and potatoes of capitalist society: focus. Arguably, effort and hard work and all that, but the measurement of how much you’ve put into something gets a bit blurred when you’ve somehow acquired detail knowledge of the economic turmoil that initiated the Pontic Wars. Someone please give me money for that. Easily an entire week got a bit lost in trying to understand centralized economies in the classical era and not one person paid me. Outrageous. I think writing was my way of trying to accomplish that level of usefulness that we are all trying to achieve. I knew that whatever I went through as a kid helped me develop an approach to understanding things in a unique way, but this is arguably not even useful to myself let alone the world as a whole. Unfortunately this hobby/career is top tier ADD nightmares and require a level of focus and drive comparable to Stephen King just ripped on coke. I neither have the proclivity for weird child orgies and dog monsters or coke.  Well thats a lie, coke suits me just fine but my scantron has enough bubbles filled out and I’m already late turning in my “how much of a trainwreck are you” buzzfeed quiz.  I see you, red squiggly telling me that “thats” needs an apostrophe. Fuck off, this is art and I refuse to change. Hey, what do you think happens when you’re told that confidence has to come before... y’know... actually being proud of yourself? Arrogance and self-absorption, obviously. You learn very quick that empty confidence is just as meaningless as no confidence, so to kind of fake it you have to really inflate things you have no right inflating and they are inflated on a scale comparable to those around you. Which is arrogant! Its awful! People can do different things at different levels and still be valid! Confidence is valued at an extremely high level to the point where the confidence to present yourself is a bit more important than the character you are supposedly proud of... evidenced plenty by the folks in the public eye known specifically for their charisma and yet somehow failing to actually be a person worth being around. That said, it can get tangled up in actually being proud of yourself. Shocking, I know, but you can’t really lump people who have characters worth being proud of to those just decent at faking it.  Faking it. I know imposter syndrome is a thing. I am certainly not really alone in the concept of “oh god I’m faking it” so I won’t really pretend I have some magic insight on the concept (I’m lying I’m absolutely going to present myself as someone with Answers welcome to the fucking show) but when does “holding it together” and “how you present yourself” become imposter syndrome.  “Hi this is me who has to be this way in order to balance between seeming different enough to stand out but not so different that you feel disgusted at the concept of change, nice to meet you” I mean what the fuck is a person anyways. Thats not a question. Not even a rhetorical one so if you answered aloud in your head I’m sorry but my psyche is not emotionally prepared for audience participation right now so clam up. Finding yourself is always a precarious as hell phrase because that often means one of two things: 1. Learning not to care about how others feel about who you are, despite all evidence of existence point out that this is the absolute most important aspect of your life 2. Presenting the parts that you were afraid to present to people.  Look, I get it, you can’t please everyone and I’m not really here to talk about how to please anyone. In fact, I’m not even here. This is a lucid dream you’re having in your chair and shortly you’ll wake up and not remember if you were sleeping at all. Its fine, you’re fine.  You have to please someone though. I think we underestimate the value of the tutorial level of life regarding this. You are given a set amount of people who are, usually, just going to be pleased by your existence. This always sets up your expectations of how that looks, how it feels, and how important it is. I mean imagine if right now I decided to criticize the immense value society puts on children. You’d hate my fucking guts! “Look at this asshole, kids deserve to be cared for” To be clear I don’t disagree with that. I think a lot of the current “you are valid” rhetoric is based on the concept that adults deserve to be cared for as well. This sorta rounds off my point that attention and reassurance is an important part of being cared for. In my opinion, this gets overlooked very often in favor cheap performative actions like hitting a heart button and oh my god I’m like a baby boomer writing for the new york times okay hold on I promise this isn’t a cynical criticism of millennials.  People want to be heard. Importantly, people want to be understood. Spicy hot fucking take. Its a bit more than “this person knows who I am” although thats precisely how its framed. People want to be cared for, and this means knowing the... other person knows who they are caring for. Ah holy shit this is why I use metaphors.  You have a snickers bar and you are hungry. Congration, you done it. Its the middle of the day and you never had any breakfast and frankly your bank account could use a break from pleasuring Starbuck’s atm reader so you somehow found the last snickers bar in a box you bought off of impulse bought off of Amazon and immediately regretted because it was gone two days later. Or so you thought. As you threw away the cardboard you hear the tell-tale tumble of a forgotten rod of peanuts and caramel that must have gotten jammed in the back of this thing. It was, however, 7am and you had to get to work and maybe having bubbleguts while dealing with people is not your recipe for a good day so you throw it into your purse or bag or whatever the fuck and move on.  “Lunchtime” rolls around and as you do the mental gymnastics required to find the conclusion that food=energy in between bouts of fury over why your workday insists on starting at 8am and how you can’t seem to cope with falling asleep early enough for that not to matter, you remember your snickers bar. Reaching into whatever bag you put it and coming to the horrifying dread of realization that you left this bag in your car in fucking July, you find the sweet sugared respite in a corner. Squeezing it a bit just to test, you are surprised to not find it in the horrible (and yet delicious) state of melted confectionary. Your stomach grumbles a bit as you fidget with the perforated candy wrapper, vaguely thinking to yourself that it might be interesting to read the ingredients as you eat this thing like that isn’t going to fill you with inexplicable Eldritch dread. Nobody needs to know they are ingesting something that might have been made in a facility that also processes every other nut you can think of, delightfully shortened into “tree nuts”. I wonder if anyone has cross referenced all the allergen warnings to deduce which candies are made in the same factory, or if that information is just freely available. What if we kissed in the snickers production facility??? haha jk but...? Anyways, as your mind cycles through a list of stale memes you manage to unsheath this uncut chocolate delight from its wax(???) plastic prison and proceed to take your first, and arguably best, bite into this lunch.  Your teeth sink softly into it, as you would expect. In fact, expectations haven’t really filtered into your skull soup you call a brain, so all manner of things can just slip through your recognition. Not this, however. Instead, fireworks of electric signals screaming “BITTER POISON” shock your brain from its previous state of vaguely functioning. Now you truly see the color of light, feel the air cocooning your skin, the squirm of your organs in your belly. Full panic ensues. You are not human, you are animal, and you have taken in a poison thing.  You spit it out right there on your lap.  You stare at the sad and ruined chocolate mutant nestled grossly in between your legs as your brain high fives itself for saving your life before frantically scouring your subconscious for whatever Vine gives it enough dopamine to not just fucking kill yourself right here. What happened? The fugue of panic washes your perceptions with a mixture of justifications for this travesty. It probably just went bad, but that didn’t taste spoiled (you consider yourself a mild expert having scraped clean many an old collection of halloween candy collections in August the year after the fact) so maybe it melted and rehardened? Baking stuff is weird so maybe that broke down some of its components. You pick it up (holy shit that is slimy. Of course its slimy, just touch it) and its insides look fine. I mean, how often do you examine the insides of a partially chewed bite of snickers? No weird colors. The remaining chocolate lasagna brick also looks exactly what you’d thought it be.  You jokingly think to yourself that maybe you had a stroke but despite the apparent hilarity of that possibility you do the smile thing in the selfie camera of your phone. Everything seems fine, but now you’re getting mad that some turn of events has just ruined your perfectly good slab of sugar and fat that surely would have made the rest of the day bearable (and full of indigestion) Now that is a metaphor. 

[ifeveristoday]

...and the void looks back

 Issue #2 has a lot of foreshadowing for Hellmouth.

Buffy’s Slayer dream/nightmare opens with her wandering a red-lit dark hallway with windows Escher style. She finds Zombie/Ghoul Willow and Xander waiting for her, their eye sockets empty. Willow says “You didn’t try hard enough.” Xander says “You never even considered us real friends, did you?” 

Just as these are Buffy’s fears, they’re Willow and Xander’s fears about themselves as well.

And the Xander text box reads, “I have a reoccurring dream.”

Buffy clutches at her head and says, “That’s not true. I didn’t know you needed me. I would have been there.” The specter of a blank-eyed Giles is behind her.

And of course, she’s absent, descended into the Hellmouth while her friends and family deal with fallout above. She turns to ask Ghoul Giles what’s happening - and he grabs her by the throat and says, “You’re fulfilling your purpose, Buffy.”

To fight evil and then die.

His jaw unhinges unnaturally wide and his eyes go black. “A Slayer has no future. There’s no stopping fate...and hell will always find you.”

There are corpses of demons and cracks in the ground below them and the image distorts into flames.

“...but the end is always the same. I don’t make it out.”

Buffy wakes up, terrified. 

Will Xander be stronger than the demon? Will Buffy survive the Hellmouth?

First shot of Buffy’s bedroom: striped wallpaper, a sunflower poster, stuffed lion and alien creature, butterflies on the wall behind her bed. Sunflowers, lions, alien and butterflies: pretty common decorating elements but also here comes the symbolism:

sunflower: loyalty, faith and devotion to something bigger than itself, also the sun, happiness and light - and Buffy Summers. Quintessential flower for the quintessential California blond girl with sun implications in her name and demeanor.

lion: see Chronicles of Narnia, Aslan the lion. Also, courage, power, justice, might, protection, pride. Though the lionesses are the ones that actually hunt. ;)

alien: teenage disillusionment and hormonal craziness and feeling alien in your body - and Buffy is the Slayer, which is definitely alien to regular people

butterfly: transformation, luck, growth - and apparently resurrection

Buffy is Jesus pass it on

Eric says, “I once read that dreams about fire mean you could be having intense feelings...toward someone.”

Well, Buffy’s stuck in Hell with Angel and experiencing a tornado of feelings about everyone in her life, so we’ll see.

“I’m 16, I don’t need a chaperone.”

Buffy being the literal chaperone for the school dance and of Sunnydale, and rejecting Joyce (but mostly) Eric’s attempts to police her behavior. And Giles is in that mix too.

“Someone woke up full of teenage spirit today./90s reference! Powerful stuff, mom!”

Obvious reminder that a millennial is rebooting a boomer created tv show in a format aimed at a younger millenial/Generation Z demographic. Joyce would in fact be in the same age group as the audience who watched Buffy when it first started airing. Jordie is about the same age Joss was when he created the TV show, incidentally. 

“You mustn’t always be so hasty to run into battle, Buffy. There are things to be remembered, like history! It’s history that reminds us where and how we’ll move forward.”

Giles at his most stuffy, tradition-loving best here - and also the importance of being cautious and researching the opponent, which is very sensible.

A variation of the argument from the first issue - Buffy works with what she sees, Giles prefers preparation but then doesn’t tell Buffy how to get the information she needs when she’s out in the field. As he puts it, “But it is not upon me to be your director on all things.”

And of course, our girl just jumps feet first into the Hellmouth when it opens.

History will be following Angel, as he sees the ghouls of the people he’s failed to save, and most likely confront Drusilla, and Mara - the vampire he sired when he was a horse riding Braveheart conqueror type.

“Everyone seems to have everything figured out. Everyone seems to have someone they can trust.”

In a panel featuring Cordelia Chase, Miss Sunnydale 2017 and 2018. Right below it, Rose and Willow.

Cordelia does not have everything figured out, as it turns out. Neither does Willow. And Rose learns she can’t trust Willow. Cordelia barely trusts what she sees.

Willow’s wearing a crescent moon pendant and Rose has a vaguely All-Seeing Eye of God symbol on her shirt.

“I get the sense that I’m not good enough. Not really good enough for anyone.”

Back to the Scoobies - Xander’s feeling of isolation and inadequacy fueled by his depression/envy, Willow’s insecurity despite the love shown to her by her girlfriend and others, Buffy’s fear that not only is she a failure as a Slayer, she’s a failure at being a regular person - because she is as Joyce remarks, “very private and independent,” and these feelings are all at sixteen, so imagine hell on earth very intense Feelings. 

“What about me is actually special or unique?”

Of course, then it turns out Willow has extreme magical ability, Xander’s got inhuman strength and senses due to his new vampiric nature, and Buffy’s still the Slayer - but while that makes her unique, does it make her special in the way she craves? And with Kendra on the scene -- she’s not going to be the only Slayer either. Again, it’s the line between normal teenage worries and this Other that they’re navigating, that has always been baked into the mythology of the canon.

“Xander, look alive! This isn’t a playground...”

Do I even need to say it?

The space visual gag between Robin and Buffy. They start far away from each other on the bench, but in each successive panel, the gap between them lessens until Robin is right next to her. He flatters/flirts with her and Buffy reacts about as well as you can expect, which is awkwardly and full of embarrassment.

But Robin seeks Buffy out first, not the other way around. Which is on purpose, as it turns out. He watched her run.

[insert terrible joke about Watching]

Drusilla - “You know I hate getting my hands dirty. It’s so...undignified.”

Anya - “...I can’t even help you. Read a book, figure it out yourself.”

issue 1

[breeeliss]

If you're Still taking alluralance ideas, I'd love a laundry Room au. Like One of those ones where A thought they were alone So they Were Dancing around while they Fold and makeout with fresh out of the dryer Clothes and then they hear laughter, And it Turns out that B was Just folding in the Shadows and now it's Awkward

allurance

ao3 + masterpost 

//

the laundry room in lance’s apartment was, to put it quite frankly, fucking horrific. he was pretty positive is used to be a torture chamber in the past, but maybe that was the marathoned hours of american horror story talking. 

either way, it wasn’t uncommon for lance to put off his laundry for a couple of days because he was terrified of going down into the basement by himself. people could make fun of him all they wanted, the place looked like something out of a saw movie. 

the fluorescent lights always flickered, the floors were disgusting, the boiler made the most horrendous noises, and the gaping, dark storage room pressed to the back of the room was currently without a door and left plenty of room for lance to imagine what kind of monster or murderer was hiding in the shadows. 

he really needed to cool it on the true crime podcasts. 

but there was no excuse today. lance was officially out of underwear so he needed to stay down there and get at least one load done. so lance plopped his speakers on top of his laundry basket, plugged in his phone, and played the only song he knew that could fill him with a sufficient enough amount of courage to plunge into the depths of the basement. 

“be a man” from the mulan soundtrack. 

once the drum line got started and li shang’s voice echoed through the room, lance immediately got pumped. yes, he was gonna fucking get down to business. this laundry was gonna get done and he was gonna make mulan proud. it’s not like he had anything else to do on a saturday night. might as well twerk it out to disney songs while his boxers dried. 

he was sorting through his clothes as he sung rather loudly along to the lyrics. he threw a glare over to that hellishly dark storage room while he worked as if that was going to stick it to whatever was hiding in there. 

“not today, satan,” lance called out. “i’m about to hit this chorus and your demonic ass is about to be shook.” 

lance was measuring out the detergent the minute the chorus dropped, and he really went in and stretched out those sixth grade glee club muscles. he had this song memorized for years – as every respectable millennial disney baby should – and he couldn’t help but start dancing around the room as he poured in his soap, danced over to his basket, and started throwing clothes in. 

“you’re a spineless, pale, pathetic, lot,” lance sang, really getting into character. “and you haaaaaven’t got a cluuuuuue – woah!” 

lance turned around to grab from the basket, and for a moment he thought it was a ghost standing in the doorway of the laundry room. but he realized it was just a girl – one he recognized, maybe from four doors down, he’s mad he can’t put a name to that head of dyed grey hair. she was holding her own laundry basket under her arm as she laughed at the performance he was unintentionally putting on for her. lance coughed into his arm and tried to play it off like he wasn’t totally making a damn fool of himself, but then the next verse of the song came on and the girl in front of him thoroughly surprised him. 

“i’m never gonna catch my breath,” she smirked. 

lance’s eyes widened. “say goodbye to those who knew me.” 

she dropped her basket on the laundry machine next to him. “boy was i a fool in school for cutting gym.” 

“this guy’s got ‘em scared to death!” 

“hope he doesn’t see right through me!” 

“boy i really wish that i knew how to swiiiiiiiim!” 

“BE A MAN!!!” 

they both roared into the chorus with so much overdramatic vigor that lance was sure people on the first floor could hear them. but who cares, this was a classic. and this super cute girl was seriously giving him a run for his money with how well she knew these lyrics. god, she even held that long note at the end of the chorus like a total champ. they let the song keep going on without them as they collapsed into laughter against the dryers. 

“oh god, i haven’t heard that song in a long while,” the girl laughed. 

“seriously?” lance gasped. “i watched mulan like…last week.” 

“it’s one of my favorite disney movies. well, that and aladdin. you can’t forget aladdin.” 

lance pounded on his chest. “princesses of color. represent.” 

the girl snorted into her hand and started to throw some of her sweaters into the washing machine. “sorry to interrupt you, but i had to jump in.” 

“oh please, you did me a favor. that harmonizing we had going on was…” lance pressed his fingers to his lips and made a loud chef’s kiss to the air, “perfecto.”

“well, singing is always better when you have company,” she said. “besides, i was sort of hoping there was someone else down here. this laundry room always creeps me out.”

“doesn’t it? i feel like someone is gonna pop out the shadows and kill me.” 

“i had a bloody nightmare about this basement the first time i came down here! swear on my life!” 

“well, if you ever need back up and a bomb ass disney playlist when you’re doing laundry, i’m your dude. that stuff helps.” 

allura grinned and shook her head at him as if she was surprised to see him suddenly standing in front of her. “i didn’t catch your name…” 

“lance,” he said, holding out his hand. “i feel like i’ve seen you before. i’m in 507 if that helps.” 

“allura,” she supplied. “and yes, i’ve definitely seen you going out for jogs early in the morning. i’m in 501.”

lance winked. “oh, well, hello neighbor. it was a pleasure dorking out to disney soundtracks with you.” 

allura bowed dramatically. “likewise. have you got anymore queued up?” 

“let’s see. i’ve got ‘be our guest,’ ‘friend like me,’ ‘let it go,’ and ‘i just can’t wait to be king.’ pick your poison.” 

“‘friend like me’ obviously,” allura scoffed. 

“right, right, aladdin junkie. why didn’t i realize sooner?” 

“jasmine was my spirit animal. i dressed up as her for halloween three years in a row back when my hair was still black. i was the splitting image of her.” 

“wait that’s so adorable. i’m so basic, i think i reused the same pirate costume for like five years.” 

“you were a pirate for five years?” 

“well, for the first year. next year i was a ghost pirate. then a zombie pirate. demon pirate. and a cuban pirate.” 

allura chuckled. “what on earth is a cuban pirate?” 

“a pirate with a cuban flag wrapped around his head that says truco o trato to all the gringos that answer the door.” 

he left her laughing so hard that she stumbled back a couple of steps and had to catch herself against the machine behind her. “are you like this all the time?” 

“please. this isn’t even me trying. you should wait until i really get the jokes going. you won’t survive.” 

allura shrugged. “i mean, i have to stay here until my clothes are done washing. so i’ve got nothing but time.” 

lance smiled. “alright. but remember. you asked.” 

“listen, if it keeps me occupied on a saturday night, i promise i won’t mind.” 

“well, if you eventually get tired of my jokes, i have aladdin on dvd back at my place. i could pop some popcorn and throw it on for us. i was getting kind of bored sitting in my apartment all day and laundry can only get so exciting.” 

allura bit her lip, distracting herself with loading the rest of her clothes. “i’d like that. i’ll bring blankets and some sweets i brought back from work.” 

“yes! sleepover! haven’t had one of those in a while.” 

“hm?” allura smirked, raising a brow. “want me to sleepover, do you? you ought to ask me to dinner first.” 

lance sputtered. “w-wha? no! no no. no, that’s not what i meant, no. totally platonic, buds being buds, watching a movie, five feet apart ‘cause we’re not gay.” 

“that’s a shame,” allura shrugged. “if you wanted me all to yourself, all you had to do was ask.” 

lance leaned into the start button on the washer at the same time she did and tried to play off the fervent jolt of excitement that lit up the length of his spine. “that was really smooth, allura.” 

she giggled. “why thank you.” 

“do you like takeout?” he offered. “i was thinking thai food.” 

“i’ll pay if you show me pictures of all of those pirate halloween costumes. i feel like i’m only going to believe this cuban pirate story if i see it for myself.” 

[magicianmew]

In defense of staying home

Ok, I have something to say, inspired by the little mini rant I just had in response to some stuff @orriculum is dealing with and posting about, and I figured I’d just get my own damn post rather than eating hers entirely.

I follow a lot of people who are college-ish age -- kinda very late millennial, very early Gen Z. I feel like I’ve been seeing a lot of this lately.

People being pressured to travel or move far away from home to “expand their mind.” Spend a year abroad, or move to LA for your career, or whatever the fuck it is.

Gen Z, by all appearances and by all studies, seems to be a more community- and home-focused generation. I mean, makes sense honestly. It’s the generation immediately following families splitting up cross country trying to find work. Why wouldn’t you want to try to foster your communities? But apparently this is annoying to y’all’s parents.

Let me tell you something.

I am 29, and I have spent half of my adulthood traveling or living very far from home, in spates of 2 to 3 years continuously, both abroad and through my very large country.

I have been that fearless crazy bitch out here by herself with no safety net and nothing more than 5 bucks in my pocket, either on the other side of an ocean from home, or with no home left to go back to at all.

And you wanna know how I feel, at the end of all that?

If I could have lived my life over again, I would have traveled less.

Far less. I never would have gone from home for more than a month or two. And when I finally realized I was wasting my time, I moved back to my home country, went to a cool little city in the South, got a little place to myself, and settled into a nice quiet life, where I spend a lot of time with my local community. I have no desire to ever go back to that life again, and I wish I had realized that sooner, because the truth is I can’t remember any point beyond the first few months where I actually enjoyed it.

I will tell you why.

People are people no matter where you go. This apartment is not that different from that apartment. And while cultures are different, that is something it is possible to learn about to some degree at home, and whether you require a deeper understanding than what you can get at home entirely depends on what you WANT.

You will only learn what you want to learn. That is why all these yuppies who spent a year in France or whatever come home and are just as unbearable and ignorant as they were before. They didn’t wanna learn anything. They just wanted to be able to say they spent a year in France so the plebes would feel shitty about themselves.

Traveling will only “expand your mind” if that is what you are genuinely looking for from traveling.

But you can also expand your mind in school, or working for underserved communities in your area, or through hobbies, or spirituality, or doing a million other things. Fucking off to another state, or another continent is not the only way of expanding your mind. And frankly, anyone who’s gonna sit here and argue that you need to do that in order to understand things like basic human empathy and reciprocity has something wrong with them.

Our society treats traveling as a sign of social clout -- something you’re privileged enough to do, which of course makes you better and smarter than everyone else. The idiocy of this is palpable. I mean, Trump’s traveled a lot, and the man can hardly read.

Briefly, traveling does not make you more mature, or more knowledgable, or even more worldly, necessarily. It depends how you do it, and whether you’re engaged enough in the process to actually take anything in from it. And beyond that, you can do other stuff that accomplishes the same goals right where the fuck you are.

Traveling, in and of itself, is a neutral. It is not always a “better” choice.

I don’t know why this doesn’t get talked about more, because here’s the thing. I don’t think I’m the only one to reach this conclusion at the end of it all.

When you travel extensively, you meet a lot of other travelers, immigrants, and relocators. We sort of form temporary communities. And I’ll be honest: most of these communities are not very happy places.

There are a lot of people who are struggling -- financially obviously, but also mentally. Leaving your community is very hard on the mind. It’s one of the reasons it drives me mental when people say immigrants “have it easy.” Even if they stay put after they move, it takes many years for your brain to adjust. It’s hard. Really hard. Depression after moving abroad is so common as to be virtually expected.

No one likes to talk about that. At least not until they’re about 6 drinks deep. But the fact that they get 6 drinks deep often enough for it to be a regular topic of conversation kind of proves my point, eh? And, like me, most of us quit and ultimately go home. I did wind up in another state, but that was mostly because I had no family left in my birth state, and I figured I might as well go for better weather.

Despite this very obvious and common self-destructive behavior within our communities, most travelers would never admit this sort of thing to other people. And I get why -- I’ve been there. We give up a lot to live out that dream, and we have a lot of nay-sayers telling us we can’t do it. The last thing we wanna admit is that we did it, and now we’re struggling.

Everyone thinks it’s really cool and amazing, and we kind of want to let them believe that’s actually true. We kinda wanna let people believe London is more than just another dirty crowded megacity (and not even a very good one, imho...). We kinda wanna let people believe that seeing starving children or helping in war zones was all literal white-knighting, not nightmares that still keep us up at night.

And that isn’t to say there aren’t people for whom traveling or moving far from home really is for them, and the path they stay committed to and happy with. But even for them, there are some really hard parts. And there’s stuff you give up. And we don’t get to talk about that outside of our temporary communities.

But also, for many of us, we decide it wasn’t really for us, and we go home. And society treats that as shameful, somehow. As if loving our home enough to return to it is some kind of personal failing. Like... how dare we think our own community is good enough to spend time around?

But you know what? I’m still happy to be back. And I’m never leaving again.

My years traveling were an outgrowth of a childhood in which I was raised without proper, invested relationships. I didn’t know I was a community-type person, because I had never had a community. So I traveled because I didn’t know what else to do, and as a way to differentiate myself, and make it clear that I wasn’t gonna be like the shitty people I grew up around. It took me all the way until my late 20′s to figure out that all I really wanted was a home that felt like home. It took me all that time to figure out why traveling wasn’t “making me a better person” the way everyone said it would.

And although I can’t regret it, because if I hadn’t done it I might never have figured that out, I wish I’d had that knowledge about myself earlier on so I could have saved myself a lot of years of confusion and wasted time and wondering what was wrong with me that I accomplished my dream, and still wasn’t happy.

So you know what, guys?

If you wanna travel, travel. It has good points -- especially if you’re invested in the process. It can change you. It can grow you. It can help you find where you belong in life.

But if you wanna stay home and knit and hang out with your friends from high school and marry your college sweetheart and help raise kittens at your local shelter and not go anywhere for more than a week?

Fucking do that. It is going to expand your mind, and your heart, way more than any sort of social display of class privilege for taking a year in France.

[wahoo-stomp]

I’ve never really been a big listener to One Direction.

Okay. That’s a lie. I literally don’t listen to One Direction. Got nothing against them – just never really had any interest, and my music tastes are…limited. So I was more than a little surprised when my Spotify playlist led to a 1D song in the Year of Our Lord 2019. I know Spotify can sometimes select a song that it thinks you’ll like based on what you listen to – but the artist I’d been listening to wasn’t even in the same genre. So imagine my surprise when I’m greeted with—

You're insecure Don't know what for You're turning heads when you walk through the door.

Okay first of all, what?

This is roughly when I reached for my phone to change the song, but then my brain did that thing where it went “eh what the heck” and I let it play a little longer. It didn’t take long for me to see that this is one of many songs with a theme of the singer talking to someone and telling them they’re more attractive than they realize. It’s not the most original concept, but there was nothing particularly offensive to me about this iteration of it, so I let the song continue further. I admit I like pop styled tunes, probably because of a whole bunch of stuff a music theorist could better explain than I can, so it was fun to listen to – and then suddenly something jumped out at me.

I hardly believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to recommend listening to the song to see what I’m talking about if you don’t know it, and NO, this isn’t a plug for a defunct boy band.

Okay, you’ve listened to the point where they go “If only you saw what I can see—” you can pause it there. 

So far the artists have stuck to what I would call pleasant but superficial comments. Hair flicking is…not really anything that stands out to me, since frankly I care more about eyes and anyways we’re talking from the perspective of a guy who might be asexual and aromantic (can I say that? I’m still trying to figure it out, so I’m not sure I’m right anyway and hopefully I didn’t irk anyone just now). Lighting up the world, yada yada yada. Heard it all before, will hear it again. But then, when the line mentioned above played, my attention was instantly grabbed.

Now before I explain why that is the case, I’m gonna let ya’ll in on a little secret. I’m super, super duper, super duper duper insecure. I know, right? You never would have guessed*. Nah, but all joking aside, one of the things I struggle with most is a feeling of…worth. Now I do have people in my life who tell me they love me – I have friends who (I think) think pretty highly of me, and I have a job and am overall doing okay for a millennial trying to survive as a liberal arts major in this economic nightmare we call “capitalism.” But even all that granted, I struggle everyday with the idea that I’m really worthy of love or interest or anything along that line. This is largely because I am acutely aware of my faults, including the ones I (gasp) try to hide from others. Fact is, I have a scrolling list of ways in which I bungle things, sometimes daily, and it’s not all that easy to see myself as valuable when I have said list.

*You literally guessed after three seconds.

I can hear you saying “no one is perfect, Josh.” Yeah, I know. Heck, the characters in my other blogs are learning that as we speak (even though I think Rocky is pretty darn close). Still doesn’t keep me from berating myself. Sometimes, if we’re totally honest, the internal and external pressures I face are nearly enough to make me give up on myself as a lost cause.

“Okay, um, this is depressing. Does it get better?”

Well, I have one more thing to add. I’m a Christian.

*cue sirens*

Christians are a scary bunch to some folks, and, uh, I don’t always blame them. Some people claiming to represent Jesus suck immensely at it and there is an extensive list of people who do so that I wish I could just tell to shut up. But, with your permission, we’ll skip over the common stereotypes associated with radical Christianity and, for now, summarize my faith perspective as the following statement – I see God as my friend, and I believe the converse is true.

Good. We’ve got that out of the way.

Here’s the problem. If my faith is to be believed, God knows me inside and out – meaning God knows what an idiot I can be. That’s disconcerting. That’s unnerving. That’s freakin’ terrifying – not because I expect God to drop a bolt of lightning on my face (again, not that kind of “Christian”), but for the same reason I don’t tell all of YOU how messy I can be – I don’t want you to hate me or give up on me and decide I’m not worth it.

Okay. That’s a lot of laundry, but I promise I’m getting to a point.

When I say I see God as a friend, I recognize how that might sound. Many faith traditions not only disagree with that statement, but disagree on the nature of God, period. I’m not here to argue with those folks. Disagreement and respect are compatible. If you don’t mind hearing me out, though, perhaps my perspective on God in relation to a 1D song will provide you with either (a) some encouragement or (b) the final confirmation you need that I am in fact a lunatic. We shall see.

If only you saw what I can see You'll understand why I want you so desperately Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe You don't know You don't know you're beautiful!

Okay, that rolls off the tongue well. What does it have to do with what I mentioned above? Well, if I may be allowed to withdraw a sample (emphasis on sample, I strongly encourage reading the full context of this thing) from the pre-Christian writings of Scripture, more specifically the book of Psalms, chapter 139, verses 17 and 18:

“How precious to me are your thoughts, God!    How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them,    they would outnumber the grains of sand—    when I awake, I am still with you.”

“Okay, great. Where’s the connection?”

Well, although this particular piece doesn’t mention it, there are a variety of instances in scriptural writ where God’s thoughts towards people, be they individuals or nations, are referenced as positive. (Yes, there are negative examples too, often stated as part of a judgment passage, but I am not skilled in the subject of God’s judgment and will not attempt to go into depth on it right now). The chapter at large acknowledges God’s presence throughout the writers life, even predating birth. For the record, the writer of this particular Psalm, was, uh, messed up. David did some stuff right but whoa nelly he really did some screwball stuff (to put it incredibly lightly) – so we’re not looking at someone who’s perfect when he talks about God’s thoughts.

If we take this piece of writing, therefore, and slightly change the perspective of the speaker…we might end up with a (rather less cliché sounding) 1D song. Now before someone burns me at the proverbial stake, let me clarify what I mean. (NO, I’m not equating holy writ with pop music, promise.)

Let us assume, that these positive examples of God’s thoughts, can be applied to ourselves – or to you and me, to bring it home. If this is the case, when we regard ourselves as unworthy of love, or not valuable, or ugly (a struggle for me personally) or whatever else, is it entirely unreasonable that God’s reaction might be something along the lines of the chorus above?

I think that if we refer back even earlier to that venerable writ in the Torah known as Genesis, we can encounter God’s initial thought on the creation of humankind. Essentially, “It was very good (1:31).”

(For the record, it goes downhill from there as far as the whole “being good” thing goes, but for that moment, at least, God was pretty excited with the state of humankind.)

So let us now take the (limited) textual context and apply it to the, song, taking some creative license (and removing any romantic preconceptions).

Dear one I’d light up the world for nobody else To see a smile on your face makes me smile as well No matter what you may think it’s not hard to tell I still know, oh oh You are just so beautiful If only you saw what I can see You’ll understand why I care for you constantly Right now I’m looking at you and I can’t believe You don’t know – you are just so beautiful.

Okay, now here’s something I feel obligated to clarify. I’m not a fan of fluffy faith. I’m also not a fan of reducing suffering and emotional struggle to a single sentence. Band-aid solutions and glib encouragement irk me. So I am not pretending for a moment that I know what anyone reading this is going through. Really, I’m just writing something for myself and hoping that something in it provides encouragement for others.

Essentially, I believe God’s perception of our value is not tied to ours, and I’m encouraged by the idea that someone smarter than me knows just what I’m capable of, and loves me despite all my dirty laundry.

That doesn’t mean I recommend using 1D as a source of spiritual encouragement.

I do recommend considering the possibility that your favorite love song or the things that encourage you could very well be used by God to try to communicate God’s thoughts to you. Furthermore, I do recommend acknowledging your value is not caught up in only your perspective, and that there are so many ways in which you are valued…beautiful, that you may not even see.

After all, perfection isn’t attainable – but if you don’t dismiss something because it’s imperfect, why would God?

Everyone else in the room can see it, Maybe it’s time you did too.

[thawingthoughts]

To All The Boys I’m Tired of Loving...

Does this shit get any easier?

Dear Tumblr, it’s me, Becca.

It’s been a while.

I’ve been hand journaling lately, but I feel like I have too many thoughts and emotions to be limited to the speed of my carpal tunnel. 

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I broke up with the person I thought was supposed to be the love of my life in July last year. It fucking sucked, but it was the best decision I’ve ever made without question. The life I lived in those months after was more life than I had lived in my 23 years prior. I went to a foreign country, I moved, I made better friends, lost bad ones, made moves in my career and, well, fell in love again?

Which brings me to today, another fucking shitty day.

Love doesn’t suck, but navigating relationships in your 20s does. 

Today I’ve spent the day crying my eyes out over a guy who technically was never my boyfriend. I genuinely never thought that would be me. Who the fuck am I right now? 

Anyway, let’s continue. 

In August 2018 I met a boy (because let’s face it if they’re under 30 they’re not a man) who wrecked my heart. Which, like I said who the fuck am I to let that happen?

He was too good to be true, and sure enough, he was. 

In our Pete Davidson / Ariana Grande pace of a relationship, we shared a lot of life, a lot of sex, and I think more love than either of us care to admit. Much like the famous duo though, I think we were both in a lovesick rebound. Saying that doesn’t discount the validity in the emotions of the relationship, but it does give justification for its exhilarating but devasting end.

Like a deadly car crash from street racing, things went from 100 to zero, quick.

I think at the end of it though, I put him on an unwarranted pedestal because of the trauma he experienced in his life. And that’s not fair to me. 

Yes, in that relationship I had a lot of guards up. I pursued something much bigger than I had ever anticipated. I fell harder than I thought I could fall, and I was so afraid of those emotions and if they were real. 

I let a man say all the things I wanted and needed to hear. Treated me like a fucking queen in a way I had never experienced before. Listened like no one I had ever met. stupidly handsome, passionate, funny, incredible in bed...the list can go on. 

But also, let’s call the bullshit where we can now. Rose-colored glasses off. 

He’s got demons I can’t help, especially if he has no desire to help himself. His personality tends to bleed politician in order to skate around truly expressing himself. He scapegoat’s bad communication with vague statements. He’s extremely intentional in the moment but has poor follow through. Literally runs away from a confrontational situation. 

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I remember after that first date though, that I thought I had met my match. And I was fucking terrified. Never in my life had I been on such an incredible first date. And no, that’s not to say that it was like a rom-com with these insane bells and whistles, but there was a chemistry between us like I had never felt before. 

We met like any millennial in 2018, on a dating app. I had zero expectations. His profile had no info and he was roughly my age, so the fact that I had swiped right...surprised I did honestly. 

I remember I half-ass dressed up for this date, almost canceling last minute until I realized the restaurant was right around the corner from my office. 

I enter the restaurant, late, huffing and puffing and hot in the August heat (lol it’s Portland so it’s probably only 80 something degrees). I see him there and he’s in this wonderful suit and I feel like a hot mess, quite literally. We were probably there for three hours? We hit every topic that makes me wet: feminism, how Portland is so white, our shared Latinx experiences, liberal politics, I don’t even remember what else. I just remember calling my mom on my way home saying I’m fucked. Saying why the hell did God put this person in my life at this moment when I made such a fucking loud declaration to the universe that I was not ready. 

He’s the only person I ever asked out on a second date. And that date was just as great as the first. We got dessert at my favorite place in town late at night after an extremely tough day at work. 

Next his ass helped me move apartments.

Then the following week we ended up at the movies watching such a heavy movie, both needing a drink afterward. Next thing I know it’s four in the morning and we’re parked in his car outside of the movie theater. We’ve already made a seven-eleven run for gum and water.

I, being the confrontational person I am, asked him what’s his deal. In my head how does a guy pursue a woman like this without wanting to seriously date? Because, per my mantra earlier, I was not trying to date. 

He told me his story, and it eerily mirrored mine. He and his partner of three years broke up that summer because of cheating. He was trying to get back in the game. He wasn’t looking for anything serious, but having a hard time navigating the app scene. He said a lot of girls said they felt like he wanted something serious because he was so nice, but that wasn’t the case. 

I, of course, felt instant relief and also that there was a storm destined for our future. 

We were in the same boat, hurray, but knowing the person I was and who I was actively trying so hard not to be, I was going to fall. Fucking hard.

And fucking hard I fell. 

We kissed that night. It was hands down one of the, if not the, best kiss of my life. I don’t know if it was the build-up at the time, my constant experience with men who suck at kissing, or my current raw emotions, but as of right now he can keep that title. 

The following night I ask him out to dinner and took him home. We hooked up and I was blown away. So of course, like any person who has been deprived of good sex for a long time, had him over for too many late nights during the work week. 

Were either of us getting quality sleep? No. Was it the most fun I had in a long time? Absolutely. 

Then all of a sudden we were spending a lot of time together. More than just late nights, more than just evening dates. We were sharing our work days and our work lives with one another. We’d sometimes get lunch together. He was taking me to events. I met his friends. He slept over 3-4 nights a week. We shared deep stuff going on in our lives.

That shit scared me. A lot. 

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I’d been a serial monogamous. Been in three three-year relationships. All so different from one another, but all-in-all, bad. None of them ended well. I was cheated on in every single one. 

The first one I was so god damn young that I can’t fault either of us at that time anymore. We’ve learned and grown and after probably more years than I’m proud of, I forgave him.

The second was a rebound from the first; it just happened to last three whole years. We were co-dependent in a way that was toxic for both of us, but we were just college kids who hadn’t ever been in truly healthy relationships before then. I don’t know if forgiveness is the right word in this one, but I’ve learned to let go of my baggage from it.

The third one...was a nightmare. It wasn’t at first and we had two beautiful years, but that last year was brutal. He lied to me. He cheated on me. He called me a cunt. He gaslit me. He harmed my growth when I became a more independent person...the list can go on. 

The point is, I hadn’t been lucky in love yet. I had a pattern of loving hard and not receiving that equal love back. Additionally, I hadn’t truly ever been my own person yet. Moving to Portland was my first big step into becoming my own person, and breaking up with ex #3 was my second. So unfolding myself to this new person, and potentially building a life with him in this city that I had built a life for myself, fucking terrified me. 

Because of all that, I was selfish. Selfish that was not in any way fair to him. I loved the way he made me feel, the way he treated me, the sex, etc., that I refused to address the relationship that was building between us. I didn’t want to lose what we had, but I was also too afraid to let him into a bigger part of my life and my plans. 

Where I was at in my process at that time was too focused on what if it doesn’t go according to plan? What if he breaks my heart? What happens when I get a job outside of Portland? 

I set that stage of what our relationship was because I wanted to control as much as I could of what was going to happen to me. I wanted to be as calculated as possible in order to not fall victim to my past mistakes. 

By the time I had decided to fully open up though, to be as vulnerable as he’d been with me, it was too late. 

Things had changed and I was too busy worrying about me to fully see that. 

I will take ownership of my selfishness in the situation. I will take ownership in my over communication but not the clearest communication. I will take ownership of the fact that I was not in the right place for something that could’ve been so beautiful. 

BUT - all that being said, there’s some ownership I wish he’d take. Like for letting me walk all over him like that. For not being more clear on his wants and needs. For not following through on his words and apologies. For not acknowledging that maybe he was just as not ready for this as I was. And lastly, for not letting me go when he should’ve. 

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For almost two whole months we played games. And I don’t play games. 

He gave me “what, do we go back to being strangers?” and “You’re such an important part of my life and I’m not ready to lose you.” 

At first, yes I said maybe we shouldn’t talk. A week later I changed my mind on that, and the second I did I let him know. After that, I tried to be as accommodating to his state of mind, his career, and his bandwidth. I was honestly fine because at that point I had accepted where he was and where I was, and I was willing to see what our next check-in would bring. 

When I was no longer fine was when that check-in came up and he blew me off. For the first time if felt like his actions and his words didn’t align, and that hurt. We were supposed to get coffee, and I stupidly was too excited for such a mundane hang out. It had been so long since I’d seen him, and at that point, I was just happy to hear about his life. To catch up. This person had been a part of my daily life for four months and then all of a sudden dropped off the face of the planet. 

When he never reached back out about coffee that day though, I felt such a change. This amazingly incredible person I had built up in my head - shattered. 

I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Give him a full day to respond. That night I did happen to go out with some friends I’d never really spent time with before. While I was out I ran into one of his friends, who seemed to know more about my relationship than I did at that moment. 

It felt like salt being poured on an open wound. 

The next day I confronted him via text, my least favorite platform. I expressed how upset I was with him, which was hard for me to do since this was my first time being truly angry / upset / disappointed in him. He sent me a very politically correct response but did offer to meet up that night to chat.

So we did. We drove around in his car for an hour because that’s about all the time he had. And I did appreciate every moment of that hour. 

He apologized in the way every person in a fight with someone they care about should apologize. He validated my feelings, told me I didn’t have to forgive him at that moment, took full ownership of the situation, and promised to do better.

The thing is though, he didn’t do better. a pattern formed before my eyes. 

After the conversation, I sent him a long text. All of me hated sending a text like that, but I knew I had thoughts I needed to get off my chest and there was no other way to do it given our circumstances. 

No response. Which I expected at that moment because I sent the message so late.

But then a day went by, and two days, and then a week, and then two weeks. 

Wow. 

How am I supposed to believe any of these sentiments - “what, do we go back to being strangers?” “You’re such an important part of my life and I’m not ready to lose you” - ring any truth when this is the way I keep being treated? 

So we come up on week two of no response, and I end up at an event put on by his work. My office sponsored a couple tables at the event, which I went on behalf of the office but also because I wanted to get the closure I felt I deserved at that point. 

I took a big risk praying that A: he’d want to talk to me, and B: offer me a ride home so that we can actually talk. My phone was dead, I hadn’t driven there, and all my coworkers left before the end of the event. 

A buzzed me took a giant sip of wine and walked over to his table at the end of the event boldly saying “are you gonna act like you didn’t see me tonight?” 

He flashed that god damn smile of his that gets me every time and gave me some runaround. I still don’t believe he didn’t see me. I digress.

I make the rounds I need to with him in order to get to my end goal, to actually having the sit-down conversation I needed. That was hard for me since the last time I did that with him we were  “together,” and I’m sure all of those people know no different. 

Shots were fired, jabs were made, but we made it that conversation I’d been desperately seeking. It wasn’t the conversation I wanted, but the one I needed. 

That shit hit cold; not only because it was the official ending of an era of my life, but also I felt I didn’t articulate myself the way I wish I had. Which I guess is why I’ve spent three hours in the middle of the night writing all this out. 

Afterthoughts of that night: 

I am done apologizing for my faults in the situation because I’ve done that more than deserved. 

I am tired of him using the excuse that he’s made it clear where he’s at mentally as a dismissal for his mishandling of me and my emotions in this situation. 

I don't know if we’ll ever see eye-to-eye on the above statement because of our communication styles and our defensive levels for ourselves.

I tried so hard to actively avoid getting hurt in this “situationship,” yet this just as painful and torturous as all my other serious breakups. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry at but so concerned for someone at the same time. 

From a third-party viewpoint, it’s easy to objectively list out all the reasons this relationship would never work (there’s A LOT). Somehow those rationalizations don’t make this hurt any less, and that fucking sucks. 

I will never be able to listen to Miguel the same way. 

I do truly hope there is a point in our lives that we can be friends again. 

I’m done putting him on a pedestal, but he is the best person I’ve ever dated. I do genuinely hope the best for him because despite how fucked up this situation was/is, he’s a wonderful person at his core with his own demons to face. 

WHAT DID I LEARN THOUGH??

This has been hard to tap into, but I know it’s vital to think through in order to get over this situation. 

God’s timing is funny, but there’s a reason for everything. 

Do not use the apps unless you’re ready to pursue a relationship; they cause more emotional labor / drama than you want or need

That organic personality / sexual chemistry is essential. There’s a lot to work on in relationships, but that shouldn’t be one of them. 

You can’t start a relationship / situationship when you’re emotionally unavailable.

Work on the balance of being there for someone and being selfless to the point of self-sabotage. 

The date bar has been set - don’t settle for a man who can’t afford to treat you like you deserve to be treated (as a feminist I’m torn by this statement, but as a woman who loves to be romanced...whoops).

Continue to take your time with relationships. This one may have failed, but that wasn’t because of taking it slow. 

Being with someone who inherently understands your background and values in invaluable. 

The second you recognize a pattern, address it and move forward / get out. 

FINAL THOUGHTS

This was fucking rough. So fucking rough. 

I went through such a roller coaster of emotions today. For the first time in my life, I am the single friend of my core friend group. I’m also alone here in Portland and breaching a point where I’m about to outgrow my core friends in their life stages. 

Fuck, my baby girl is getting married soon. My brother is moving in with his girlfriend. And I’m over here wondering if the rest of my life is going to consist of a bad work/life balance, too much booze, bad dates, and worse sex? 

Also, if anything I’m so god damn afraid to open up to someone ever again. Because what if that person says their willing to wait because “I’m worth it” and then this happens, all over again. How many times do I have to go through this until I find the one?

Agh. Clearly, there’s still a lot to work through. And at least I’ve learned that despite this absolutely awful sex drought, the drought is better than giving a piece of yourself away to every shitty guy who wants to get in your pants on every dating app. 

Dating in Portland though? Slim pickings. Which make finding that spark with someone again feel almost like an impossible feat. 

Hopefully when I go to bed, this’ll all get a little easier. Day by day. Because time heals all wounds right? 

One of the worst expressions to an impatient person though. 

Alright, goodnight Internet. 

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P.S.

Who knows if I’ll ever be bold enough to send this to the man himself, but if I do, this is a raw emotional rendition of me and I hope you take that into consideration as you read it. 

Bye Rico, what we had was so special, but such a fucking mess. I’ll miss you quite terribly. 

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

yet another reason why we can’t let it go

This reality show nightmare we wake up in every day happened because of a pile-up of multiple injustices, failures, and outright institutional crises. There were a lot of things that we couldn’t have seen coming (Russian interference, Comey), couldn’t have predicted how bad they would be (sexism, press failures), or couldn’t have stopped once the election was in full swing (voter suppression, Electoral College).

One of the few things we could’ve seen coming and, as voters and activists, could’ve stopped, was the sheer political clusterfuck.

To look at just what was in our control, strip out all the names and the specific identifying injustices. Candidates A, B, C, blah blah.

A well-liked two-term Democratic president is about to leave office after a presidency which is widely regarded as successful. Intuitively, you might expect that this success would give the president’s party an advantage. But “fundamentals,” the statistical models that predict how a given election will turn out regardless of the specific candidates, show that it’s difficult for an incumbent party to keep the White House for a third term. 

It’s an uphill climb for Candidate A, but our hero is up for the task. Before serving as a high-profile member of the current administration, Candidate A had a long record of public service, including a distinguished career in the Senate. A is an earnest policy geek who takes pride in finding practical ways to improve on long-term challenges, and a fundamentally decent person who understands and takes seriously the challenges of the presidency – exactly the kind of person you want in the Oval Office.

Candidate B is a near-neophyte with a sketchy past who’s spent their life coasting on inherited wealth and prestige, a thundering moron whose pathological incuriousness allows them to lie shamelessly and constantly. Somehow B performs as a moderate Republican, despite a troubling reliance on religious extremists and advisers with dangerous foreign policy views. B is so patently unfit for the office, it’s hard to believe they might actually win.

It’s quite the contrast, but seventies hold-over left-wing crank Candidate C quickly loses interest in airing their more trenchant criticisms of money in politics, preferring to run around telling impressionable young voters that there’s no difference between the parties and complaining about how unfair the election was because the special interests had structured the debates against them, blah blah zzzzzz. This schtick is so unfair to A and helpful to B that those special interests – who are actually aligned with B, because both sides are not actually the same – start buying ads for C in order to weaken A’s support with their party’s base.  

Candidate C will peel off some votes in critical swing states, but the real damage they do is harder to quantify. Their rhetoric about the corrupt political duopoly poisons the well, turning idealistic young voters into disengaged cynics. It also creates kind of a philosophical permission structure for people who can’t be bothered to understand the issues or appreciate the stakes – if they’re all the same and it doesn’t matter, why bother with your civic responsibilities?

That wouldn’t matter much, since left-wing criticisms of the status quo rarely make it out of academic circles – except nobody, but nobody, loves ignoring the issues and denying the stakes more than the mainstream press. Policy journalism is hard. Passive-voice declarations about how “people” find one candidate more charismatic than the other are easy. 

Instead the meta-narrative becomes about “authenticity” which, because it is not actually a thing, is so conveniently intangible that it can be unmoored from truth entirely. B, unburdened by intellect or moral character, speaks in comically oversimplified terms which felt true because they plugged into deeply biased unconscious expectations, and is thus considered “authentic.” A, a highly intelligent person who is either unwilling or unable to mislead voters about the complexity of the world and the sometimes unsatisfying ways to improve it, is labeled “untrustworthy.” Petty sniping about A’s clothing or body language drowns out basic fact-checking. 

In gleeful agreement with the “centrist” (functionally conservative) media are left-wing performance artists like Michael Moore and Susan Sarandon who spend months screeching at anyone in earshot about how both! Are! The! Same! Only! C! Can! Save! Us! They rationalize this by loudly proclaiming A’s inevitability – which, if they really thought both sides were the same, wouldn’t matter to them. They also insist that B is so awful, a B presidency will break the system, whereas an A presidency would not – which, again, means they are not the same. (“Waiter, we’ll take cake or a shit sandwich. Doesn’t matter to us…..No, no, it’s fine, he’ll bring us the cake, and anyway, only eating shit will make this place get better cake…...Ugh, I didn’t want to eat shit! Why did you order shit, you fucking NEOLIBERAL WHOR– hey, where are you going?”)

As A gamely tries to explain the issues to the public, tap dance for the press, and chase the left’s elusive goalposts without alienating moderates, Republican officials in swing states suppress the votes of minorities and other likely Democratic voters in numbers greater than the expected margin of victory.

The election ends up closer than anyone thought it should be. The networks say that B has squeaked out a lead in the key states, and A quickly concedes out of respect for the peaceful transition of power, despite having gotten more actual votes. This ties A’s hands as a steady stream of information about irregularities in key counties makes the reported results look more and more suspect. Perhaps if A had a little more goodwill from the left, or at least wasn’t being actively undermined by their own side, they could’ve really fought back, but as is customary, the Democratic circular firing squad is lined up at dawn the next day. By the time it gets to the Supreme Court –

Oh, did you think this was about last year? Silly goose! I’m talking about the 2000 election. But I understand the mix-up.

That’s why we can’t fucking let it go. 

I understand the temptation to treat Hillary Clinton as some kind of political Typhoid Mary. If people can say that SHE was so uniquely terrible because of that TOTALLY DESERVED chorus of complaint (so unlikeable! So bland and convictionless!) from the corporate media and the self-righteous purity pony left…..well, they’d still sound like kooky truthers denying the mountains of evidence about Russian interference, FBI-fetishizing conservatives exonerating Comey the Keystone Kop for his coup d’état, or just assholes too sexist to acknowledge even the most glaring sexism, but they can at least tell themselves they didn’t do anything wrong. That’s harder to sustain when you realize those same complaints were made by the same groups of people (sometimes the same individuals) about an entirely different person. Not just any person, either, but an actual movie star who does more for climate justice before he gets out of bed in the morning than Ralph Nader, Jill Stein, and Bernie Sanders will do in their whole lives.

Similarly, it’s easier to fight about MESSAGING than it is to deal with voter suppression, or to make people give a shit about making the Electoral College less unfair before people vote. And, well, there’s a pretty rotten incentive structure for everyone who either has or wants a platform in either the mainstream media or progressive niche outlets. It’s high effort and low reward to draw attention to the systemic problems which might remind the gatekeepers of how they acted before the election; it’s easier and savvier to validate the more comfortable narrative.

The consequences for ignoring this stuff in 2000 could hardly have been more severe - and yet, by 2016, they were. This is well past “those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” If you were old enough to vote in 2016, this happened in your lifetime. One critical reason that the Sanders campaign needed younger millennials is that EVERYONE OVER THIRTY REMEMBERS HOW THIS STORY ENDED THE FIRST TIME. 

There’s a lot of reasons it’s important for Hillary Clinton to write her damn book, and one of them is: Al Gore didn’t, and here we are.

[howveryheather]

you and me, take tomorrow off

The sound of the phone ringing jolted me wide awake from halfhearted slumber. Our landline pumped the bedroom with shrill bursts of sound. John slept through it, oblivious as ever. 

I glanced at the clock. 1:30 AM. Had to be one of the children calling. I mentally steeled myself for the worst and picked up the phone, “Hello?”

“Meredith?” 

 “Abby?” 

“Yeah!” Her tone was excited and bubbly and she wasn’t slurring on her words so I immediately ruled out any possibility that she was drunk and in trouble. 

“Meredith — we’re engaged!” 

I paused, the wheels in my head frantically turning as I tried to wake myself up and say something coherent back. “Who’s engaged?” 

Strike one. 

“Uh, Marc and I are.” Abby said slowly then laughed, “Who else?” 

“Oh. Oh! Well, that’s nice honey.” 

Strike two and I was on my way to striking out entirely. In the history of being the mother to my daughter, I had never had the type of relationship with her where we could refer to one another as “honey.” I guess you could say our relationship was best summed up with the discussion I had with her as she was entering the first grade. That was the year where I encouraged her to call me by my first name, Meredith, when addressing me. It was also the year I got dragged into a parent/teacher conference at the school where the teachers were horrified by the thought that my child would not call me mom. I sat and smoked a cigarette, assuring them it was fine because it was a lesson to teach her early on that we were going to be on the same playing field as one another. 

John, my second husband and Abby and Noah’s father, had a different take on it, “You don’t want them to call you mom because you never thought you would be a mom.” 

Maybe he was right. Deep down, I never understood why I had to let go of who I was for kids. In my mind’s eye, I sat at 3 AM awake outside with my wine glass and books. I had wanted to curb a traditional motherhood from happening so I placed the rules early on to both of my children that ours would be a different relationship together. 

On the other end, I heard Abby going quiet. I cleared my throat and tried again, hoping for something better to come out of my mouth, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean... Are you sure?” 

Strike three and I was out. As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I wanted to take them all back but knew I couldn’t. They lay scattered before us in a messy heap everywhere. 

The next thing I heard was Abby scowling and muttering in a whisper, “I’m in the bathroom now. You’re lucky I didn’t have the phone on speaker!” 

“I’m lucky?” 

“How dare you say something like that to me! You, the same person who has been badgering at me for years with the same boomer lifestyle rhetoric — get into a relationship, get engaged, get married, have a child! I’m finally doing it and all you can say back to me is ‘are you sure?’ What does that even mean?“ 

“Abby, it’s 1:30 in the morning you have to realize that you’re not catching me at my best right now.” 

“Why would you ask me that?” 

“I don’t know! I’m barely even awake and you’re screaming at me for something I mumbled when I was tired.” 

“You knew full well what you were mumbling!” 

“I did not — you know what, let’s not with this discussion. Hooray for your engagement, we’re thrilled for you, clap, clap, clap.” 

“That was the FLATTEST congratulations I have ever heard!” 

Next to me, John rustled awake and sat up yawning, “Is that Abby?” 

“Hold on, your dad is waking up.” I covered the phone and turned to him, “She’s engaged.” 

“Oh yeah? That’s great news. I’m gonna go to the living room and see what’s on HBO.” 

I uncovered the phone, “Hello?” 

“What did he say?” Abby asked. 

“He thinks it’s great news.” 

“Really? Can I talk to him?” 

“No, he’s going to the living room to watch TV.” 

“What?” 

“He wants to see what’s on HBO.” 

“Okay that’s just great then! Your ONLY daughter gets engaged and I have my mother asking me if I’m sure about it and my dad opting to watch TV instead of talk to me.” 

“What can I say, we are who we are.” 

“You know what? I bet Facebook and Instagram will be way more receptive to this than you both have been!” 

“Yeah well, Facebook and Instagram don’t have to pay for a wedding either. Which reminds me, unless you want to do this shindig in the backyard of our house we can’t offer you any financial assistance in that department.” 

“And the nightmare just keeps getting worse.” 

I started laughing, “Silly girl, don’t you know your parents don’t have any money? Also, this reminds me that your creditors keep calling here about your student loans.” 

“Did you tell them I died?”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t you just make a payment?”

“Can’t do that. Not on the level they want money anyway. Better just to fake my death at this point.”

“Dead girl walking and planning a wedding. You could blog about this.”

“Actually that reminds me. For a wedding present, I think instead of buying me stuff from a registry everyone should put their money together into a coffer to pay off my loans.”

“Abby, knock it off.”

“I’m serious! Paying that loan off will take me further in life than silverware and a couch ever will.”

“We’re not paying off your loans before ours get paid off first. How about you do this wedding up shotgun style? Get married at a chapel in the middle of nowhere and hit the road on a lam to avoid your debt? Then we can finally do the one thing parents dream of and fake our daughter’s death before her student loans destroy her.”

“You know what I’m going to hang up and call you tomorrow morning so we can talk like adults. This is the one thing you wanted me to do my whole life and I’m doing it and it’s still not enough for you!” 

“Sounds like a fabulous idea. I’ll have had my coffee then and I can indulge you in your fantasies of having an expensive wedding that will never come true.”

“Meredith!” 

“Just start looking in your local Goodwill shops for a cheap wedding dress.” I started laughing on the other end of the line, “And maybe... Maybe we can send you a twenty dollar bill in the mail to front a Funfetti cake.” 

“I’m hanging up!” Abby huffed and I kept laughing, “Good night and congrats, Abby. We’ll talk more in the morning.” 

She hung up without saying goodbye and I smiled at the phone a little bit affectionately. It reminded me of another parent/teacher conference I had to go to once in the second grade when I got in trouble for letting her watch a rated-R movie which she recapped the entirety of to her class. 

“What is wrong with you?” I remembered one of the teachers chiding me, “She is a child. A child should not be discussing the plot points of Thelma & Louise in front of her classmates. That movie has a sex scene and violence!” 

I tapped my shoe on the linoleum and sighed, “They’re kids, not stupid. Better to give them a taste of the world early on so they know what they’re getting into.” 

I gathered my robe around me and walked out into the living room where John sat on the couch with the TV on. 

He grinned at me, “She’s getting married.” 

“Do you really think so?” 

“Oh who knows?” John grimaced, “But I’ve never met a more cocky guy than Marc Schuart and I knew your first husband!” 

“I want to be more excited about this, I really do.” I sighed, “But it’s a whole new world out there for people getting married today. She’s just got this vision of how she wants her life to be.”

“Yeah well, that’s most millennials for ya.”

“But you and I know how it really is out there. I’m just afraid that the vision and the reality won’t match up. And I get worried sometimes that she’s missing out on all the good, simple stuff out there.”

My mind shifted to recalling leaving that second grade classroom after talking to Abby’s teachers. Outside of the room, Abby sat in a plastic chair, her legs dangling in the air, still too short to touch the ground. “Hey kiddo.” 

“Did I get in trouble for talking about Thelma & Louise in front of everyone?”

“Kind of. They weren’t thrilled that you got a class of 25 kids begging their parents to rent the movie from Blockbuster.” 

“I should never said anything like that out loud. Next time, I’ll be quiet.” Abby looked down at her uniform skirt. 

I knelt down next to her, “Abby, look at me.” 

She lifted her head and I saw her eyes were lined with tears, “I’m sorry, Meredith.” 

In that moment, I swore I saw a piece of my daughter disappear right before my eyes. A part of her that resisted the urge to be wild because it wasn’t the norm. My heart stung and beat hard, furious at the world for trying to damn her already. 

“Don’t be sorry.” I whispered, “Having a pop culture inclined brain is nothing to apologize for. In fact, it’s an asset. It’ll keep you surviving while everyone else dies a little bit more and more inside every day.” 

“Why don’t we do this?” I continued, “You and me, take tomorrow off and have a Hollywood day. Drive up the coast, go shopping on Robertson, listen to some cool music, get lunch at a cafe, and go to the movies together. I’ll take you to go see Interview with the Vampire.” 

“I’ve been DYING to see that one! I read the Anne Rice book you gave me!” 

“I know you did because I found it dogeared in your bed the other day when I was making it! High five!” We high fived each other. 

“Just so you know,” Abby said as she hopped off the chair, “I’m VERY mature for my age. I can handle vampire movies.” 

“You don’t need to tell me twice that you’re mature, lady. I know this about you!” 

“Meredith?” 

I was jerked into the present as John stared at me, “Hello in there?” 

“Yeah, I’m here I’m here. Uh,” I thought for a second, “Well, you know if this is a thing that Abby wants to do then all we can do is support her through it. She can learn her own lessons in time. I’m sure it will be good for her. He’ll be good for her. It’ll all work out as she wants it to.” 

I smiled at him. Suddenly, I began to feel excited about the prospect of seeing my only independent daughter get married to a man who was the most financially self-assured person I had ever met in my life. “This is her dream and I think we’re here to try to make it a reality.”

“Even though we don’t look anything like Marc’s family.”

“Hey, it takes all kinds!”

“So, we’re doing this then? We’re on the wedding track for our girl?” John grinned, “I’m all in if you are.”

I laughed, “Let’s do it. Let’s get this girl married and hooked onto a financial lifesaver!” 

“His name is Marc, he is a person too.”

“Whatever. You know what I mean.”

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Supplying Your Long Distance Move to Dallas-Fort Worth

Safety and Packing

Having a knowledge of proper packing materials and methods is one major piece to a successful move whether it’s local or across country. Example : The monitor to your desktop and keyboard are pretty fragile and you want to ensure they arrive in tact. A high quality bubble wrap will be your best friend for most of the items in your home office environment. Also, please don’t forget once you have everything wrapped not to just have things thrown in a box. You should definitely purchase padded divider sets so that once you have all your boxes in place, unpacking will be less stressful. Some folks will elect to use packing peanuts between fragile items such as dinner wear and glass that is wrapped in strong paper. Packing peanuts are tried and true but remember that unpacking them can be a nightmare!

Dallas-Fort Worth

The Dallas-Fort Worth area of Texas is a popular site for working families, professionals and sports fans alike. Moving to this locale has plenty of perks and social highlights to attract all ages from millennials to baby boomers. So you landed a new job in Dallas and need to move within the next few weeks. There are amenities and standards you may be looking for when choosing your new home. Other than these things that most any place has to offer, you are certainly going to want a stress free experience all around.

Once you arrive in the city you’ll be happy to find plenty of traditional attractions like Dallas World Aquarium, AT&T Stadium, Dallas Museum of Art and White Rock Lake and Park. Singles who are dating as well as families looking for weekend outings will love the life style and experience the Dallas Fort-Worth area provides both day and night. Clean air and beautiful Texas weather is also a plus. Also, if you are planning to lease rather than buy your home here there are several communities in this region that appeal to popular styles of living and surprisingly for the unconventional as well.

Local and Long Distance Moving

You have been successful thus far and acquired valuable family heirlooms, art work, clothing and furniture and do not want to leave a single item behind but need trusted hands to move this stuff to your new location. Imagine your entire home office needing to be packed to be shipped two thousand mile away and you have some really high powered expensive equipment. Having insurance is great but knowing that you can trust the moving company that you’ve chosen to handle every aspect of this new phase in your life’s journey is priceless. Sturdy cardboard boxes that have been reinforced, packing paper and a strong packing tape should be number one on your list of supplies.

Other than furniture

When contacting your moving company make sure to include all miscellaneous items such as any pool tables, pet cages, outdoor playground equipment you may be taking and gun cases. Tally your costs for specialty item packing and moving and be open with your movers as to what they may encounter when arriving at what will soon be your old home. You can’t fault them for not being prepared for having to relocate an alligator terrarium! With that being an extreme case, the idea here is to put plenty of time and thought into your moving process and hire a top rated company to handle the job. Good luck!

Allow Great White Moving to assist you if you’re looking for a home in or around the dallas-fort worth area.

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