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bevioletskies · 7 years ago

Text

20 questions [10/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: peter needs a distraction, gamora has a lot of feelings, and mantis is trying her best, you guys.

word count: 4835 | total word count: 118k

a/n: i made a slight deviation from vol. 2, as if peter had talked about their unspoken thing here in the way he had in the movie, they would definitely not be questioning the nature of their relationship or how they feel about each other. no spoilers otherwise!

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

The campus was buzzing the day that voting ballots were released. Director Fury did his best to rein everyone in, remind them that they had classes to attend, but everyone was too excited about discussing their choices with each other to really pay attention. “You kids do remember you don’t actually have a summer vacation, right?”

Peter found it odd, watching campus life happen around him. He still felt like he had an arm missing without his entire team by his side (an analogy he suspects both Barnes and Misty Knight wouldn’t appreciate), joking and arguing and fighting as they always did. And yet, everyone went about their day as usual.

“You really gotta quit mopin’, boy,” Yondu had said to him last night, when Peter had zoned out during dinner and nearly took his own eye out with a fork. “You think Gamora wants to see you like this? And you know Drax would kick your ass for slackin’.”

He threw himself into his studies and working on the Milano, which, to his surprise, was almost completely back to normal. He suspected that Stark had snuck some extra things into their supply locker when no one was looking, because Peter was pretty sure Rocket wouldn’t be caught dead with some of these Stark-branded tools lying around. He also got in some legitimate training sessions in the Combat Simulator and got up earlier to go jogging at the Academy Stadium, and as much as he hated it, the exercise took his mind off things for a little while, enough to let the fog lift from his brain.

Peter: happy five-month anniversary. how’s it going?

Gamora: seems like nebula found us. she sent a team of thugs and we ended up in a firefight.

Gamora: everyone is ok though, but i did slice open one of my hands. it’s recovering

Peter: ouch. but at least you’re making progress. any estimate?

Gamora: hopefully end of the week

“Don’t think I’ve seen you so attached to your tablet before, Quill,” Rocket commented. The four of them were eating lunch together on the Milano, attempting to study for a superhero law exam. Well, three of them - Groot wasn’t actually enrolled in any classes on account of being child-sized at the moment, though he sat with them for support. “Gamora again?”

“What’d I tell you?” Yondu threw his hands up in the air, nearly flinging his pencil across the room in the process.

“I just wanted to see if anything changed, and she said they’ll be back by the end of the week,” Peter said defensively. “Besides, it’s technically our five-month anniversary today.”

“For a relationship that don’t exist,” Rocket snorted. “C’mon, Quill, just give in and ask her out for real. Stop being so miserable about it, she’ll probably say yes.”

“I am Groot!”

“No, I don’t think Quill should sing to her. That won’t end well,” Rocket said, patting Groot on the head. “Good effort, though.”

Peter leaned back in the armchair, frustrated. Exercise, studying, and repairs helped, but he needed a bigger distraction. One that wouldn’t remind him of his relationship that wasn’t real, and the fact that his friends could be dying somewhere far away at any time, and no one would know.

As if to answer his pleas, a voice came in from above. “Hello? Guardians?” For a single, crazy moment, Peter thought it was some god speaking to him (as in that trickster, Loki, not the big man upstairs), until he remembered the comms unit in the cockpit. He leaped up and took the ladder two rungs at a time, eager for something, anything to keep his mind off of her - er, them.

“Hey, this is Quill,” he said, failing to tamper down the excitement in his voice.

“Uh, it’s Parker. You know. The other Peter,” said the voice. “Was hoping you guys were on the Milano, because there’s some stuff going on by the Academy gates? And everyone else is freaking out? Fury wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”

“What’s going on?” Peter’s mind was racing with the possibilities. Had Gamora and the others returned? Was Thanos here?

“Well.” Parker sounded reluctant to answer. “I was telling everyone that there might be some weirdness going on, because of me, because y’know, typical Parker luck. So, uh, Carnage might’ve arrived with some Symbiotes. Along with some of my ex-enemies, friends, and another two of my sort-of girlfriends?”

“…how many sort-of girlfriends do you have, dude?”

“That’s not the point! I just, argh, we’ve got our hands full with the Symbiotes - me and Janet and Gwen and MJ are trying to take ‘em on - and I know you guys are probably super sad about half your team being gone, so here, distraction. They need a tour guide to get ‘em settled in, and the last time I asked Pepper she yelled at me about always being busy, and I’d get Stark to do it, but he hits on everything that moves, so please don’t flirt with Cindy, Anya, or Silver, especially because your girlfriend will kill you, and - ”

“Whoa, slow down,” Peter huffed. He always felt a bit exhausted talking to the other Peter. “Fine, I’ll help.”

“Great! They’re at Avengers Hall right now, so if you’re not doing anything…”

______

Gamora woke up in the dark, slightly disoriented. She blinked for a moment to allow her enhanced vision to kick in, glancing over at Mantis, who was curled up next to her, her toes grazing Gamora’s ankles. Drax was a few feet away, snoring like there was nothing better to do. The three of them had decided to sleep in the common area of the ship instead of their own rooms, admittedly because they were starting to feel lonely in beds that weren’t actually theirs. Unlike Sanctuary, when she had been afraid to fall asleep, it was a comfort to have their bodies close by, the steady sounds of their breathing, the rise and fall of their chests, worries smoothed out of their faces as they slept.

Stretching, Gamora lithely pulled herself away as to not disturb Mantis, then got to her feet, walking over to the loading bay, taking in her surroundings. They had tracked Nebula to Berhert, oddly enough. It was as if she were retracing the Guardians’ stops throughout their missions. As for why, Gamora wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Nebula had been spotted at some military camp nearby and, curiously, hadn’t killed anyone yet.

She supposed when it came to redemption, Nebula’s chance at grasping it was slipping away with every kill she made. Fury only had so many chances he would afford her before he would think she was past the point of no return. It had been a conversation he had with Gamora all too many times before, noting that while Gamora appeared to be both noble in intention and remorseful in past actions, Nebula was a wild card, perhaps too wild. “But we can’t give up yet,” Fury had said, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard. “I know she’s important to you, which is why I’m letting her stay. We’ll guide her towards being a proper hero.”

Her mind wandered to Peter again, curious about what he would say if he were here. They had to keep their text communication short due to limited time, but she had a feeling - no, she knew - he would console her if they were physically together. He was good at things like that - it was why he was their leader, his silver tongue and quick thinking got them out of more scrapes than she could remember.

I miss Quill, Gamora thought with surprising ferocity. His soft laugh, his lopsided grin, that dewy-eyed look on his face when she said something he thought was interesting or funny. It had been four agonizingly long weeks since she’d seen that look. Four long weeks since she’d held his hand, felt the calloused fingers tangled with hers, their shoulders pressed together like they’d been doing it forever. And the near kiss? She simply alluded it to a misstep on both their parts, an impulsive desire that couldn’t have possibly meant to him what it meant to her.

Of course, there were moments in which Gamora considered whether Peter liked her in that way. He had flirted with her constantly before they became a team, and flirted with her every so often in small ways since then. On Ego’s planet, when they had danced together, he commented about how people would misunderstand their relationship if they were to witness it, but had otherwise made no other wisecrack about being a couple or implying he saw her as anything but a friend. As for other instances, she couldn’t be sure if it was any different to how he was with all the other girls on campus. And there were a lot of girls on campus - beautiful, strong, intelligent women who also lived and breathed the hero lifestyle, but without the baggage of being a former assassin.

And that was where the problem was, wasn’t it? Gamora let out a shaky exhale as she mulled over her train of thought. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t deserve Peter, she wasn’t on that level of self-loathing, it was that she couldn’t possibly be Peter’s type. Aside from the surface stuff - dancing, music, movies - they couldn’t possibly be compatible. He was cheerful, warm, emotional, full of curiosity. Meanwhile, Gamora felt like she was an emotional brick wall in comparison, a sullen soul who didn’t see value in seeking out new things or new people. Her pragmatism was what kept the Guardians in check, butting heads with Peter’s impulsiveness more than half a dozen times. They were complete opposites in so many ways.

But damn, she was warming up to the idea of actually being Peter’s girlfriend. It probably wasn’t all that different to how they were acting now - the affectionate banter, the cuddles, the music and movies. Spending time together in a higher capacity didn’t sound all that bad. After all, some of her happiest moments for the past month had been in his company. The only difference was him expecting…more, that is, physically. Gamora had never been with anyone that way before, but she knew Peter had. His confidence alone spoke volumes about his comfort level with touch. And maybe, just maybe, she felt as if Peter was one of the few people she had ever been curious about touching in that way. She could almost picture it now - the way he’d held her close when they danced, or when they’d hugged in front of the Director - with his hands sliding further down her body, his breath hot on her neck…

“Gamora? Is everything okay?”

She spun around, alarmed, warmth rising in her cheeks. For some reason, she felt like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. “Mantis, you shouldn’t sneak up on me, I could’ve accidentally stabbed you!”

“I am sorry,” Mantis whispered, mouth twisting a little in fear. “Are you having trouble sleeping? I can help.” She reached out as if to touch Gamora’s bicep, but she was instantly swatted away.

“Please don’t,” Gamora said cooly. Then she softened, knowing Mantis only wanted to help. “I’m fine. Did I wake you?”

“A little bit, but that is okay,” Mantis shrugged, moving to sit next to Gamora. “You appear to be deep in thought.”

“Worried about Nebula,” Gamora said, glancing down at her hands. “Nothing new there.”

Mantis’s antennae moved slowly, bending towards her. Her powers had improved immensely since she was recruited to the Academy, now being able to pick up faint empathic signals without physical contact. “You are thinking about how much you miss Peter.”

Gamora didn’t have the energy to scold Mantis about using her powers without consent. Sometimes, it just happened on its own. “It sounds silly, but our ‘anniversary’ was a few days ago. I was considering what to do if people ever find out it’s all a ruse.”

An odd look passed over the other girl’s face. “What if it was not a ruse?”

Gamora’s brow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean, that you and Peter have gotten very close over the past month. You have always been friends, but now you are inseparable. You both seem sad without the other,” Mantis commented thoughtfully. “What if…you tried being a couple for real?”

“Why would we do that?” Gamora hoped Mantis couldn’t hear her voice crack the slightest bit on the last word.

“You care about each other very much, you spend a lot of time together, and I know Peter finds you very pretty. Do you think Peter is attractive?” Mantis asked.

“I - what? When did he say that?”

Mantis smiled serenely. “I am his sister. He tells me these things.”

Gamora looked up again, her fingers beginning to tap restlessly on her thigh. Mantis was so different from her and Nebula despite also being taken from her home at a young age. She could only hope Mantis would continue to find joy in the smallest of things for as long as possible. “Speaking of sisters…”

“You are changing the subject,” Mantis said, teasing. “But go on.”

“Sometimes…sometimes I wish that I could detach myself from Nebula. Emotionally, I mean. And I’ve tried, but I can’t do it. I love her, and I want her to see how good she can be. She came so close when we were fighting Ego, but recently it seems like she’s snapped again. I don’t know what caused it, but it feels like this could really be the end for her this time.” She let out a slow sigh. “Quill is lucky to have a sister like you. You are a joy in our lives, Mantis, while Nebula feels like a storm cloud, threatening to strike.”

“I am not perfect, but I appreciate your kind words,” Mantis said. Her face was glowing, and not because of her antennae. “I believe Nebula will do the right thing. She wants to kill Thanos, yes?” Gamora nodded. “Then that is already the right thing, even if she is doing it the wrong way. Killing may not be the answer, but it may be the only choice if us heroes are to stop Thanos. She wants him to stop hurting and torturing and killing people, so that is already a noble cause. She just needs to understand not to kill several other people to do it.”

“I like the way you think,” Gamora said softly. “Thank you, Mantis.” There was a comfortable silence, save for the muffled sounds of Drax’s snoring. She then decided to throw Mantis a bone, and besides, she couldn’t help but be curious. “Quill thinks I’m very pretty, huh?”

Mantis laughed. “Peter has told me the story of when you first met back at the Cosmic Conservatory. He almost walked into a door when he first saw you.”

Gamora flushed deeply. She vaguely remembered that moment, how awkward it had been for him while she had rolled her eyes and resumed the task at hand. It had barely registered to her at the time, this odd, misplaced Terran boy who seemed quite clumsy. Now she wasn’t sure what life would be like without him, though she was getting a glimpse of it now, and it was, frankly, awful.

Gamora [unsent]: i look forward to returning home. i miss you.

______

Peter should have known the other Guardians were going to follow him to the Avengers Hall, despite trying to make up some story that would shoo them away. Yondu had perked up at the sound of more girls, while Groot was simply curious, and Rocket grumbled about how he was responsible for looking out for Groot, resulting in the four of them traipsing down to the quad.

The girls were being checked in by a frantic-looking Pepper, who was, as always, buried under a mountain of paperwork. She looked up when the door opened, poised to yell at whoever had come to bother her, and was surprisingly relieved at the sight of the Guardians. “Oh good, you’re here,” she sighed. “Ladies, these four will be your guides today, since I have way too much on my plate right now. Peter, introduce yourself.”

Smiling his most winning of smiles, Peter introduced himself and the others, reaching out to shake their hands. “Another Peter, huh?” Cindy said upon hearing his name. “Nice to meet you.”

“What a cute little el árbol you have there,” Anya said, pointing at Groot, who was sitting on Peter’s shoulder, idly gnawing at one of the leaves growing out of his elbow. “What’s his name?”

“I am Groot!” he said proudly, puffing up his tiny little chest. Silver let out a little “aww” and reached over to gently pat his face with her finger, moving closer to Peter in the process.

“Who knew Groot would be so popular with the girls,” Rocket murmured to Yondu, watching as the three girls shuffled closer and began chatting amicably with the other two Guardians. “Quill��s gotta be happy about that.”

“Don’t forget the plan, boy,” Yondu whispered back. To Peter, he loudly said, “Should get goin’ before we run outta time and end up late for dinner, Quill! Plus you should prob’ly check in with your girlfriend soon. Make sure she’s still alive and all that.”

Peter turned to shoot Yondu a dirty look before looking back at the girls. “My girlfriend, Gamora, she’s off-planet on a mission right now. But, uh, never mind that. Who here likes dancing? Because on this campus, you would not believe it…”

______

In hindsight, Gamora should have never expected Nebula to be predictable. She told herself this as she went sprinting through the forest as fast as she possibly could, dodging what felt like an infinite amount of energy blasts coming from behind.

Drax was only a few feet behind, being more of a man of strength than a man of speed, but poor Mantis, who was still not completely up to par on her physical training, had resorted to ducking into a particularly thick bush, trembling, hoping Nebula and her team of military goons (and how had that happened?) couldn’t see her.

“NEBULA!” Gamora hollered behind her. “SISTER, PLEASE!” She let out a startled shriek as Nebula dropped out of one of the trees in front of her, landing on her feet with impressively little impact. “Nebula,” she said, struggling for breath. “You have to come home, please.”

“So you do remember that I exist, how nice,” Nebula sneered, lowering her blaster so she could stare Gamora down. “I refuse to continue playing house any longer, not when Thanos is out there. Do not get in my way.”

“You cannot do it alone, Nebula,” Gamora said, her voice pleading. Drax had come to a stop behind her, and Mantis had crawled out as well, tentatively walking towards them. “You know that. Come home with us, and we’ll work together towards stopping him. I don’t even know if it’s possible, but we can try, together.”

There was a stutter of hesitation in Nebula’s footsteps, as if the fight had suddenly left her body. It wasn’t as if Gamora was telling her anything new - she had stressed, over and over again, that as strong as they were, as strong as they could be, there was only so much they could do alone. But Gamora also knew it was a cycle with her - Nebula became jealous, or stressed, or simply bored, and ideas would start forming in her brain, ideas of achieving the near impossible. Even as children, living in Sanctuary, she would become impatient with their other siblings and attempt to kill them in their sleep, desperate to prove herself. It was a foreign concept to Nebula, the idea of waiting, or even worse (in her mind), working with other people to wait.

“Look who’s become something of an idealist,” Nebula said, though it admittedly lacked the heat of her words before. She dropped her blaster on the ground with a loud clatter, causing her followers to exchange slightly relieved looks behind her. “You really think teamwork is the answer?”

“I know it is,” Gamora said fiercely, stepping forward to grasp Nebula’s hands in hers. “Nebula, I know you better than anyone. And you know me. You know how I almost left the Academy immediately after defeating Ronan. I had no desire to stay behind on this planet, with this group of people, when the real threat, Thanos, was still out there. But if there is anything I have learned in the past year we’ve been residing on Terra, is that it’s not about whether you can prove your worth alone, it’s about whether you believe you are better when you have others by your side. I have found that the answer is almost always yes.”

To her surprise, Nebula’s shoulders shook slightly, and there was the tiniest of sniffles, so quiet that Gamora was almost certain she imagined it. “Quill’s awful speech-making skills are rubbing off on you.” She lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting her sister’s. “I suppose I will come back. But only if you promise that we will form a proper plan of attack to kill our father. And that you’ll stop the tree from trying to be my friend.”

“I can’t guarantee Groot leaving you alone,” Gamora said through a watery laugh, and oh gosh, now she was kind of crying, too, “but we can start strategizing. I promise.”

Finally, finally, she managed to pull Nebula into a sort of hug, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, burying her face into Nebula’s neck. She could feel Nebula half-smiling against her shoulder, patting her on the back rather awkwardly. “You have become so sentimental,” Nebula said, half-mockingly, half-fondly. In the distance, the girls could hear Drax crying a little, too. “Let’s go before I change my mind - and I will change my mind.”

______

Upon returning to the ship, Gamora led Nebula to one of the beds, knowing her sister was likely exhausted of emotions and required rest, but was too stubborn to say so out loud. Before leaving, she hesitated at the door, curious. “You were retracing the steps of our Guardians’ missions. Why?”

Nebula became uncharacteristically shifty-eyed, squirming slightly in her spot. “I thought Thanos would try to find you there.”

“You think I believe that?” Gamora folded her arms defiantly. “Come on, what’s the real reason?”

“I…suppose I wanted to understand the life you were living without me. When I was simply the one chasing you down, or being dragged along as your prisoner, instead of being by your side, as I have always been.” Nebula’s head bowed. “That bar you went to on Knowhere, the clearing on Berhert. The Kyln, where you first formed an alliance with your Guardians.”

“Our Guardians,” Gamora corrected softly. “You are a Guardian too, Nebula. If you behave, Director Fury will allow you to join our missions, and we can work side-by-side again. Okay?”

“Always so patronizing,” Nebula said softly, looking back up at Gamora with suspiciously glassy eyes. “Fly us back, already.”

Gamora simply nodded and left, making her way up to the pilot’s seat, a giant grin on her face. Mantis, who had decided to park herself in the co-pilot’s seat out of boredom, immediately commented on this. “You were wrong before, Gamora. You are the best sister of all of us.”

She smiled over at Mantis before moving to start the controls. “Considering the amount of tests and projects I’ve missed in our absence, trying to get her back? I should hope so.” She passed her tablet over to Mantis. “Can you tell Quill we’re returning with Nebula now?”

Mantis nodded, eagerly tapping away. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes as she focused on her task, while Gamora began their ascent. Drax ambled in casually, settling down in the passenger seat and nodding at them both in greeting. “Gamora? What is this message here in your drafts?”

Gamora felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her, though she knew she couldn’t take her eyes off the dashboard window to get her tablet back. “It’s nothing. Delete it.”

“What have you found, Mantis?” Drax said curiously, leaning forwards to read, his eyes widening in response. “Gamora. Have you and Quill started a romantic relationship for real and not told us?”

For a moment, she felt trapped. They clearly were reading a little too closely into her message, implying that they thought it held romantic connotations, but it didn’t. Gamora just felt it was too…honest, that was all. The only reason she hadn’t sent it, obviously. “No, we haven’t,” she said through gritted teeth. “I just thought that Quill might try to join us if he thought we were having trouble, so I didn’t send it. That’s all.”

“If you say so,” Mantis said, sounding irritatingly delighted at Gamora’s discomfort. “I still think you should consider it.”

______

It was a particularly nice Sunday, the day that Gamora, Mantis, Drax, and Nebula returned. Everyone was outside, sunning themselves, soaking up the rays and enjoying their shared moment of peace, after Parker and the other spider heroes had chased off Carnage’s Symbiotes (hopefully, for good, optimistically, not likely).

The newest spider recruits had taken a liking to the Guardians, it seemed, particularly Peter and his cheerful, sweet demeanor. Cindy seemed determined to stay away from Spider-Man (she had muttered something about spider pheromones that Peter really didn’t want to know about), and had taken to chatting with Peter whenever they passed each other by.

“You gotta have a cool backstory,” Peter told her that Sunday afternoon. “Every hero has one. So what’s yours?”

“I was bitten by the same spider that bit Peter Parker and then kidnapped and held hostage for years,” Cindy said, far more energy in her voice than her words warranted. Peter could only blink in response.

“I’m…so sorry?” he said, confused. “You seem pretty chipper for someone who had to go through something like that.”

“I really like being a superhero,” she confessed. “But at the same time, sometimes people say things that I don’t really understand. I guess it’s because I was locked away for so long, long enough that I don’t really follow the new culture anymore.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Same here! I mean, sort of, I had free will and everything, but being away from my home planet so long meant coming back to a place I didn’t really know anymore.”

“Exactly how I feel!” Cindy was practically bouncing at this point. “It’s like, everything looks and feels the same at first, and you start to think that maybe it’s just you that’s changed.”

“But then you realize you haven’t changed at all, and it’s kind of depressing, because you feel like your life came to a stop at some point and you didn’t notice it happening,” Peter nodded. “Look at that - we have something weirdly specific in common.”

She grinned widely, reaching to squeeze his arm. “Kindred spirits.”

______

Gamora was pretty sure she wanted to sleep for at least five days straight, but she knew she could last longer than the others, who had dragged themselves back to the Milano, to their real beds, the moment they had touched down. She needed - no, wanted, Gamora, don’t get those mixed up - to see Peter so he would know they were back.

As always, Jessica Jones was helpful in informing Gamora that everyone was out on the lawn by the quad. “You might want to give your boyfriend a talking-to,” she had also added, though wouldn’t divulge anything when prodded further. Confused, exhausted, and slightly irritated, Gamora made her way over, only to witness something that made her stomach curl.

It seemed normal, at first. Yondu was sprawled out on the lawn without a care in the world, Rocket was using a water pistol to create a “jump rope” of water for Groot who seemed more interested in drinking it, and Peter was…talking to a girl. A very pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes, who was laughing and touching his arm, a warm smile on her face. “Kindred spirits,” she said.

When looking back on that moment, Gamora wasn’t sure what she was thinking, or if she was even thinking at all. However, what she did know was that Peter certainly wasn’t expecting Gamora to stalk up to him, grab him by the collar, and kiss him senseless. Once they pulled apart, Gamora cupped Peter’s face in her hands, searching, desperately, for that sappy look on his face again.

He smiled at her, eyes glassy with joy, his hands immediately going to her waist and squeezing, a warmth stirring in her belly at the simple touch. “Hey, Gamora. I mi-…it’s good to see you.”

a/n: gamora - goddamn superhero, great sister, kinda thirsty for peter. same, girl.

in case anyone was wondering, the three girls are spider-girl, silver sable, and silk. i thought cindy was a pretty good choice for someone who could relate to peter, plus I just love cindy a lot regardless. also, gamora’s feelings towards cindy may not be what you think, as you’ll find out in the next chapter (hint: she’s not exactly jealous, it’s something else).

#starmora #peter x gamora #peter quill #gamora #avengers academy #myfic #myfic: 20q #marvel #uhh so the bit about gamora wanting peter to touch her? oh you just wait honey

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filosofablogger · 7 years ago

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Good Monday morning and welcome, dear friends! I know you all must be extra tired this morning, having lost an hour’s sleep this weekend! Me? Oh sure, I’m perky, but then … I don’t have to put on a suit and head out to work today, so I can afford to be a bit perky, knowing that a nap lies waiting for me in an hour or two! Anyway, I do hope you all had a good weekend! I mostly stayed in, just a brief foray out yesterday evening for supper. Daughter Chris had to play and march in the St. Patrick Day parade downtown on Saturday, and the poor girl fell walking from her car to the parade route and skinned her knee terribly! She is short … just over 5 feet … and had her drum attached to her front, so she wasn’t able to see that the pavement rose in front of her. The drum is pretty well dinged up, too! I took a picture of her knee and was planning to include it here, but … um … well … I was more or less informed that it was a bad idea if I wished to continue to live in this household, so … sorry, folks, no bad knee pics today!

Since I knew how tired you would all be this morning, I made the coffee extra strong and tried to make the humour extra fun! So grab a cuppa and settle in for a bit of fun before you have to head on out the door.

Pancake jammies?

Is there anybody in the U.S. who hasn’t eaten at an IHOP restaurant? I just read that IHOP is planning an expansion into the UK and Ireland, but I don’t think they are there yet. Anyway, here in the U.S., it is the numero uno place to go for breakfast. Pancakes, french toast, omelets … you name it. Sadly, of course, I am unable to have pancakes and must settle for eggs, but still the food is good and it is a fun treat.

IHOP has now decided to branch out, however, and they have rolled out a breakfast-themed clothing line called PancakeWear!

The colorful, one-of-a-kind lineup features adult- and child-sized one pieces and lounge pants as well as socks. According to Stephanie Peterson, Executive Director, Communications at IHOP …

“Breakfast and laid-back loungewear just go together at IHOP so we thought it would be fun to design a limited-edition merchandise collection that reflects the spirit of the brand and what we see in our restaurants all the time – people in pajamas enjoying pancakes.”

What? Wait a minute … I’ve never gone to IHOP in my jammies, and have never seen others there in theirs, either. What am I missing?

But the best news …

“PancakeWear by IHOP was launched to celebrate our 60th anniversary as a brand, but also to do a lot of good for our largest charity partner Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals. A portion of proceeds from every sale of our breakfast-inspired one pieces, lounge pants and socks directly supports CMN Hospitals and the more than 10 million kids that are treated every year at their 170 affiliated facilities.”

The company plans to raise $5 for Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals through the sales of clothing and other events. A fun thing for a good cause, yes?

R.I.P. Target …

I remember when my favourite book shop, Borders Books, closed at the end of 2010. I was crushed, for we used to go there every weekend. They had the nicest staff, and the best kids’ area of any book shop I have ever been in. But, alas, they were shortsighted and did not keep up as they should, with Amazon and Barnes & Noble snapping up the online and e-book markets, so ultimately they failed. But even crushed though I was, I did not do what the people of Hutchinson, Kansas, did when their local Target store closed. What did they do? Why, they held a candlelight vigil, of course!

The mourners included some who identified themselves as Target employees and a couple of the participants dressed in the store’s khaki pants and red shirt combo. And while some of the participants in the vigil made their candles the last purchase they ever made from the Target location, others admitted they bought their candles at competing store Wal-mart. GASP!!! 😲

As a tribute, the mourners played “My Heart Will Go On” from the movie Titanic.

This must be some new trend, for back in January, in Montgomery, Alabama, the community turned out in force for a candlelight vigil to memorialize a Taco Bell restaurant that had been destroyed by fire earlier in the month. Personally, if my Target store closed, I wouldn’t care much one way or another. If my local Wal-Mart closed, I would cheer and hold a celebratory parade! Have I mentioned before that I refuse to shop at Wal-Mart?

Stuffed or not?

Imagine that you are finally, after years of dreading it, getting ready to go through your child’s collection of stuffed animals and donate the ones that aren’t missing body parts, to a charity. Your child has just graduated college and is off on a hiking tour somewhere in the Alps, so what better time, right? So, you go through the stuffed critters one by one and put them in large trash bags … these for charity, those for the rubbish. Just as you finish, you notice that one of the bags is … moving! Cautiously, you open the bag to find …

A ferret snuggling in amidst the teddy bears!!! No, not a stuffed ferret … a real, live, warm-blooded ferret looking up at you with cute little dark eyes.

The anonymous woman was in her garage in Woldingham, England, when this happened, and she immediately contacted the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. They took the ferret to the vet, who determined she was underweight, but otherwise healthy. She was named Honey, and is now available for adoption. If I had been that woman, I would have kept her, bought her a bed, some toys, and called her Missus Beasley. But then, I’m an animal lover, in case you didn’t know.

Where have all the chickens gone?

Some restaurants are known for solely one thing. Earlier I talked about IHOP, and they are known mostly for pancakes, but they have a wide variety of offerings to choose from. Even Burger King is known mostly for burgers, but they also do chicken and fish sammies. But Kentucky Fried Chicken, KFC, is known for one thing and only one thing: chicken. So how do you explain KFC running out of … chicken???

It happened in the United Kingdom where not just a few, but hundreds of KFC restaurants were shuttered for days because they ran out of chicken. How did this happen? They changed their distributor from a company called Bidvest, to DHL. DHL, it turns out, had promised to “set a new delivery standard”. 🤣 I’m sure KFC managers aren’t laughing, but you’ve got to admit there’s humour here. DHL promised a new delivery standard and then didn’t deliver any chicken … that is certainly a new standard! 🤣 🤣 🤣

Fully 562 of the 900 KFC’s in the UK were shuttered. The company did offer a uniquely humorous apology, however …

Although I was not able to confirm, it appears that most stores are now back in the business of frying and selling chicken! This is the stuff that corporate ulcers are made of, and I would be willing to bet a few heads rolled.

Alright, friends … um … friends? 😴 WAKE UP!!! It’s time to go to work! Sheesh … and I even added a few shots of espresso to the coffee! Listen up now … I need you to do me a big favour and be sure to share those beautiful smiles with someone today, okay? Tough times … we all need a bit of a boost, especially on a Monday. Keep safe and have a wonderful week!!! Love ‘n hugs from Filosofa!

Jolly Daylight Savings Time Monday!!! 😴 Good Monday morning and welcome, dear friends! I know you all must be extra tired this morning, having lost an hour’s sleep this weekend!

#candlelight vigil #cartoons #daylight savings time #ferret and teddy bears #IHOP #KFC #Maxine #missing chicken #Target closing #Wal-Mart

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afteralliamonlyhuman · 5 years ago

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My not so happily ever after.

**DISCLAIMER: NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT PRIVACY.**

I was 22 years old when I found out I was pregnant. I had my first child when I was 23. I remember everything as if it was just yesterday. Logan, who was my fiancé at the time, came home on leave for a week before he were to go on his 9 month long deployment. A month before his visit, I went to see him in Arizona and that is when Emily was conceived.

Just a couple days into Logan’s visit, I noticed I hadn’t started my period yet. I was almost a week late and felt super fatigued. I was needing to nap very often throughout the day. I mentioned it to Logan but we didn’t think much of it, especially since I had been cramping. “It’s just a couple days late; I’ll start soon; I’m just tired from staying up late.” A day or two later, I still hadn’t started. Maybe it’s time for a pregnancy test. Logan and I went to CVS and bought a test. I went to the bathroom and as soon as I peed on the stick, two very pink lines showed up almost immediately. My heart dropped. Logan and I had talked about children in the future, but we didn’t think that the future would mean this close to the present. We had even picked out names but still - not thinking it would happen so soon. Becoming a mother has always been something I couldn’t wait to be. I always imagined what it’d be like to hold a baby or my own, or what it’d feel like to feel a baby kick from within. I stayed in the bathroom for a couple more minutes while Logan waited for me outside the bathroom door. “Babe.” I opened the door. I remember seeing him lean against the couch. “I’m pregnant.” He didn’t believe me. I handed over the pregnancy test and watched his face while he studied the pee stick. He smiled and said, “No wayyy.” “What are we going to do?! You’re about to go on deployment! I can’t do this by myself!” “We’ll figure it out.” We went downstairs and sat in his room. Silence. Disbelief. “We have to tell our parents.” He called his mom down and we told her the news first. Obviously, everyone’s initial reaction was shocked at first. Then a few minutes afterwards, you could see excitement in everyone’s eyes. I was terrified to tell my parents. All I could think of was the anger they were about to feel. We told Logan’s dad, and then told his sisters. Finally after working up the courage for a couple of days, we sat down with my mom and dad and told them the news. They were pissed - more so embarrassed because they couldn’t save their face in a culture where it was frowned upon to get pregnant before marriage. Somehow my dad seemed heartbroken. He even cried to me. My mom asked me if I wanted to keep the baby or have an abortion. Abortion was never a thought in my mind, neither was it a thought in my dad’s mind because as soon as my mom brought it up, he shut it down. “I’m keeping it.”

Logan and I found a little clinic nearby that could give us a pregnancy confirmation and ultrasound. I set up an appointment and we went. I signed in and we spoke to a lady who volunteered at the clinic. She prayed over us and then told me I was roughly about 6 weeks along. *Sigh. This was really happening. I have a little bean in me right now. How weird? I knew Logan was freaking out. He had never been this quiet around me. Unfortunately, time was running out with Logan and I. He was going back to Arizona the next day to prepare for his deployment so we never had a chance to really talk about what was going on nor did we have the time to process it within ourselves. I just remember continuously asking him if he was okay. When it was time to drop him off at the airport, we cried. He hugged me and everybody else and hugged me again, this time a little tighter and a little longer. “Send me pictures and message me updates.” I was sad and felt so lonely. This was just the beginning of our journey except he was going to be halfway across the world and I’d be here, growing a baby, and missing him. We messaged back and forth and I sent him pictures of my growing belly. 10 week update, 20 week update. Gender reveal. Recordings of Emily moving around in my tummy and kicking up a storm. He called me from unknown numbers and was only able to speak for 5-10 minutes at a time. The connection was spotty so our conversations consisted of “Can you hear me? How’s the baby? I miss you. I love you.” He missed everything having to do with the pregnancy. He never heard the sound of her heartbeat. He never felt the kick. He missed the baby shower. And he even missed the birth of our first child. Logan finally came home 5 days after Emily was born and saw her for the first time in person. At this point in time, my life felt complete. I finally had my people with me.

I met Logan in the year 2011 at a Hmong party. We met through my cousin who was his long time friend in school. We clicked right away and instead of hanging out with the people he came to the party with, Logan and I sat on the bed of my parent’s truck and talked for hours. At the end of the night, Logan asked for my phone number. I never was the type to give my number out just to anybody and I even told him that. While in the process of saving my number, he accidentally clicked the wrong button and it deleted my number instead. Logan called my cousin right away and asked if he was still at the party. He begged for my cousin to come ask me what my number was again so he could have it. I laughed and gave my number to my cousin to give to Logan. The next day, while I was at work, I got a text message from a number that wasn’t saved in my phone. It was Logan. We texted all morning and he asked me what my plans were for the rest of the day. I told him I had to go to Barnes and Nobles after work to grab a book I needed for my English class. “I’ll come with you,” he said. We met up, walked around the whole store and finally found the book I needed, and then we sat down at the window facing the parking lot. Hours went by and as we were talking, we watched people park to come in and watched people get in their cars to leave. Before we knew it, Barnes and Nobles was about to close and we were desperate to find another location to carry on through the night so we went to Wendy’s across the street. How in the world were we able to come up with so many things to talk about? This is the night he found out how much I loved Hello Kitty. This is also the night I found out he liked Motown music and that my brother owned a BMW. I learned he was the oldest and he found out I was the youngest. He played football and soccer. I remember thinking to myself, this dude has a beard. As much as we connected, our little “fling” only lasted a couple of weeks because I was still somehow hung up on my ex boyfriend and decided to get back together with him. Though I was in a relationship, Logan still had my number and he’d text me every now and then just to see how I was doing. He texted me when he was thinking about joining the military. I’d call him drunk when I got home from being at a party. He texted me when he came home from boot camp. He texted me when he found out where he was stationed. I’d text him telling him I was angry at him for not writing to me while he was gone. And then he texted me one night while he was up for duty. He said he had a conversation with one of his Gunnys about having that someone who was always there, someone who you could always rely on and out of everybody Logan knew, Logan said he thought of me. I remember he sent the text to me at 4 in the morning. The text weirdly woke me up and I texted him back right away. Mind you, there’s a three hour difference. From then on, we texted everyday and picked back up right where we left off. I was still in a relationship at the time but talking to Logan made me realize how much I was lacking. Logan came home for Christmas that same year and I hung out with him a couple times. I saw Logan more than I did my boyfriend because that’s how much my boyfriend cared to spend time with me over the holidays. After Logan went back to Arizona, I broke up with my boyfriend and told Logan I was ready to be his. Ballsy and very cringe worthy now that I think about it. We started dating shortly after. I know at one point he loved me. I mean truly loved me. He did everything in his power to make me happy. He bought me connecting tickets to visit my brother whenever I visited him. He sent me money for random purposes. He never let me go to sleep if we were in a middle of an argument and he never went a day without sending me a long paragraph of why he loved me so much. Whether I took it for granted, or he just simply fell out of love, our love story did not last as long as I wanted it to. I was never going to be able to celebrate a 20-30-40-50 year anniversary with him.

When I got pregnant with my second child, our marriage started to crumble. I was mad, sad, and stressed the entire time which was the complete opposite of my first pregnancy. I sometimes feel guilt because Jade was a crybaby as a newborn and I thought my energy reflected off onto her. Logan didn’t help me with much and when I did ask him to tag along with me to the grocery store or to give Emily a bath, he made it seem as if I was asking him to carry a boulder up Mount Everest. Also, I didn’t get the vibe that people were as happy that Jade was coming into our lives versus to when we announced Emily was on her way. It was mainly more so on his side of the family that I felt that way. So now I love on Jade a little more just so she doesn’t feel any less love from anybody. Logan and I weren’t happy with our current situation and we knew it. We were zombies in our own marriage living day to day. This became our norm. About 6 months after I had Jade, I found out I was pregnant again. I knew our marriage couldn’t handle it anymore. I was emotionally drained and physically weak. We made the heartbreaking decision to abort my third pregnancy. I was/am so sad. I always wanted a boy and it could have definitely been what I was longing for. I know Logan probably doesn’t think about it or even remember this but I do because I went through the miscarriage and bled for 3 months straight. I was the one who hurt. I carried the baby and felt like a horrible person for deciding to terminate it. When we visited Planned Parenthood to have the abortion, I chose to not look at the screen when they gave me an ultrasound to confirm my pregnancy. Logan watched though. He told me he saw the heartbeat and that the baby was really tiny. 😢 I live with this decision every day and sometimes when I’m in my feels, like I am right now as I’m typing this, I cry a little bit knowing what I have done. I was too ashamed to tell my family so instead of telling them I had an abortion, I told them I had a miscarriage. I know - it’s not fair of me to say that because some women truly go through infertility problems and miscarriages before they get their rainbow baby. I’m just a coward and here I was, just doing it because I felt like it’d save my marriage. Hopefully God will someday forgive me and when I meet the one whose right for me, if I ever, He’ll decide to bless me again.

I found out Logan cheated on me on my birthday that same year. He told me he was going to the gym except he booked a hotel room at the Travelodge and spent the night there with some woman he met from work. Up until this point, I did everything. I held a job to support my family while he was inbetween doing whatever the hell he was doing. I picked my kids up and dropped them off and then still had to do everything else a mom does to take care of their kids. This was a slap in the face for me. I knew our marriage was not in the best place but I never thought he’d do me like this. When I confronted Logan about it, he made up some dumb excuse. His account got hacked and he’s been trying to figure it out. I packed my belongings and grabbed the necessities for my children and moved out 2 days later. I struggled all day to overcome this. I cried at night and cuddled my girls. I apologized to them and told them how sorry I was for letting them become a statistic of 50% divorced parents. I told them I was sorry for allowing this to happen. I didn’t think I’d ever make it out of the dark hole, but I realize now that it was my chance to get out and be free again. To breathe fresh air. I was a 26 year old divorcee with two children under 3. As I sit back and think of how Logan and I’s relationship started, I imagined sunshine and rainbows. As we progressed further through the years, it started to get cloudy with nonstop rain. My marriage was contributing to my depression and it just wasn’t what I needed anymore. Our divorce was finalized December 2018. I had to tell myself that I was never going to get the closure I needed to heal so I let go of it as much as I could. I let myself go through the motions but wouldn’t let another day go by feeling the same way twice.

As soon as I was in a place where I felt content with my new life, I got a text message from Logan’s mom during Memorial Weekend saying he had been in an accident. I thought it was a fender bender and didn’t think much of it until his mom didn’t reply back to my text asking if he was okay. I called her. Didn’t pick up. She finally called me back after a few minutes and she was in tears. I started to panic. Logan was on his way to work and was riding his motorcycle. Someone crossed over onto his lane and hit him 5 minutes down the road from his parent’s house. While I was on the phone with Logan’s mom, they were passing by the scene, on their way to the hospital. Logan was already being transmitted. A white SUV was flipped over and Logan’s motorcycle was thrown from the impact. Logan’s mom saw the motorcycle and its condition and said, “Oh my God, his motorcycle is totaled.” My hands covered my mouth and I started crying before I even realized what was going on. “What hospital is he going to? I’m on my way.” He lost so much blood. They were almost on their last bag before he stopped bleeding out. He broke his femur, pelvic, tibia, and pinky finger. Surgery was needed right away. The doctors weren’t sure he was going to make it. The night was so long. We waited and waited. Whenever the doctor came out to update us on his condition, we hugged and cried each time. I was about to lose the father of my children. I was about to lose the person I was just barely learning not to love anymore. Finally around 6 in the morning, I walked up to the ICU area and asked if Logan was out of surgery. He wasn’t even in the system yet as his name. He was known as “Ambulance Dude”. They finally said told me he was out so I went back downstairs and told his family he was done. We walked back up to ICU and saw him for the first time since the accident. They cleaned him up so well. You couldn’t even tell how much blood he had loss. He looked like he was sleeping except only with a tube in his mouth. His skin was cold and he was twitching because of the anesthesia. This was a total nightmare. He’s come a long way since then. He lived through it all, has gone through some therapy, and now he has a story to tell. But having all this happen broke me down again and whatever progress I had made, I lost it all the day I almost lost him. He went through months of staying in the hospital. I drove to the hospital numerous times. Sometimes by myself, sometimes with our children. The roads were embedding itself onto my brain. Finally I told myself that I had to do what was best for myself again. I stopped going to the hospital because it was making me feel weak again. All the emotions I was getting over started to rush back. I needed to distant myself because after all, we were divorced now and it just wasn’t going to be the same. I had to tell myself to not care as much as I did. Once again, I had to pick myself up from another heartbreak although this time it was a completely different kind of heartbreak.

My story with Logan was filled with laughter, tears, happiness, and sadness. I went through it all with this guy even though I might not have been with him romantically the entire time. We’re always going to be tied together because of our children. It was hard trying to coparent in the beginning. Our pride got in the way and we never could agree to disagree, but now that it’s been a good year since our divorce, we’ve learned to just let the bullshit go. I think we’ll get better and become better as parents. This isn’t the love story I wanted and pictured as I was growing up, but it is a major chapter in my story that Im hoping to find the ending for one day. I still often pray and think about Logan sometimes. Although he’s done and said some very mean things to me, no matter where in life I am, there’s always going to be a little piece within me that tugs when his name is mentioned. I pray whatever he’s going through emotionally is healed by the love he receives from everyone around him. I pray he fully recovers and is able to go out back to the field and teach our children play soccer. I pray a lot of things for him. Like I mentioned earlier, I don’t think I’ll ever get the closure that I was hoping for when we first decided to get a divorce. I still do really feel the pain it left me sometimes but some days I’m also really happy. It’s life I guess. It will never make sense to me why things happen the way they do but I’m here along for the ride until I die. I mean after all, I am only human.

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momosmessages · 7 years ago

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Day of Language and other Miscommunications

As I mentioned in my previous post, I returned to the United States last week to attend a friend’s wedding. A few days beforehand, I wrote this post. I had issues with my house’s internet, and therefore, could not post it.

On this blog, I want to share all of my experiences here - both the good and bad. I want this blog, I want to be as real, authentic, and open as possible.

I want share my successes AND my frustrations. I feel that this post shares both.

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“Now I see the mystery of your loneliness .”

― William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well

Today is Monday, April 23, the anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birth. Here in Barranquilla, it’s celebrated “Language Day.”

Apparently there is another holiday called “English Day”, but it’s in August.

I felt that the meaning behind the word “language” was both fitting and ironic for the events which took place.

Yesterday started off how the day would be - full of miscommunication.

On Monday mornings, Silvia doesn’t have class in the first period, but I do. I always forget this. I think this is a more recent thing though, because I vividly remember this wasn’t a problem when I first moved.

Normally Silvia makes my breakfast. But because she goes to school later, she slept in. When I came out of my room, ready to go to school, she was in the middle of getting ready. Roberto was awake because he will leave the house at the same time as Silvia and I for school. He realized this dilemma and tried to compensate.

He opened a new bag of milk and then attempted to open my new bag of cereal, “Zucaritas” (Frosted Flakes). I normally don’t eat that for breakfast; I only snack on it throughout the day. I felt bad that he already opened a new bag of milk, so I told him I’d just pour the cereal myself. I ate it with a yogurt drink I had bought the week before, knowing cereal alone would not satisfy my hunger.

When I was almost finished eating, Roberto informed me in broken English that he was leaving and his mom was going in later, because of her schedule. It seemed to me as if she was almost ready to leave, so I decided to wait for her and not walk with Roberto.

And of course, I assumed wrong.

After 10 extra minutes of waiting, I realized my mistake. I then saw no point in walking to school on my own. I was already late, and I knew that my students this period were working on a project. I waited another 5 minutes for her to be ready, and we left together.

By the time we got to school, there was only 15 minutes left of the first period.

This class was the 11th grade Advanced Level, and they were working on career-themed posters in English. The objective was to create a group presentation in English about their career of choice. They had to include what steps one must take to obtain that career, the pros and cons, the salary, etc.

I helped one student who wanted to be a lawyer. She asked me what qualifications she needed to study or work as a lawyer in the United States. I told her she’d first have to take an English level test to prove she’s proficient enough of the language. Then she’d have to take at least a bar examination. It made me remember my privilege as an American citizen.

Unknown to me, this would be my only class of the day. As I entered my second classroom, a group of 8th grade Beginner-Level, the my students just looked at me and all nodded their heads “No” in silence. Another teacher sat at the desk, unaware of my presence and busy taking attendance. And so I slowly retreated, wondering what this was all about.

I met Mentor outside of the teacher’s room. We shook hands.

Whenever I first see him in the morning, he will shake my hand.

After he shook my hand, he told me he was sick. Great.

I asked him what was going on, and if it had something to do with Language Day. He told me that there would be an event in the third period. However, the second period classes were switched with the third period classes.

This meant that I had this period free. So I reminded him of a meeting we had.

Back Story - Social Project or Hidden Imperialism?

As a mandatory element of the Colombia Bilingue program, English Teaching Fellows must create what is called the “Social Project”. It is a project that is meant to help better the community in some way. It can be themed around helping the environment, helping women and children, promoting literacy, etc.

At the beginning of our semesters, all fellows had to write a detailed proposal. We had to include the dates, teacher involvement, the budget, etc.

My proposal was due the day after my first day at my school. From the start I had mixed feelings about this project. I felt like it was a “White Man’s Burden” to come to a country you barely know, and start telling them what’s best for them, without knowing the community’s needs at all. And as a white person specifically, this made me uncomfortable.

But I did it anyway, because I had to.

I created an event centered around Earth day. I wrote that students would have booths with presentations about how to keep the Earth environmentally friendly. I pictured a student art contest, where students had to create art pieces out of recycled materials. I envisioned students singing songs, or reading poetry about the environment.

But every time I brought it up to Mentor, he would talk about my English Club, or brush it off.

My English club is supposed to be part of my “Cultural Hour” - another mandatory element of the program.

Last semester’s fellows did not have to create social project as elaborate ours. So the last fellow at my school, who I am often compared to, only did an English Club.

About a month ago, a little before Semana Santa, I reminded Mentor that I needed to begin preparing for my Social Project. He told me that Julio*, a science teacher, already had a project going on that was similar to mine. I felt more comfortable with the idea of working with an already ongoing project, so I told him I’d be happy to help. Mentor told me he’d set up a meeting with me and Julio, but never did.

At this time we were also trying to get the English Club started. Mentor needed to create a permission letter for parents, as well as select certain students for the club. Every time I mentioned English Club, he would say an excuse about how busy he was and would try to work on it the next day.

I first hand how difficult a teacher’s life can be, so I decided to remain patient.I figured I wouldn’t press too much about the Social Project, and let him work on one thing at a time.

But last week RC told me that I needed to start working on my project, pronto. Apparently, my Social Project Proposal was chosen as one of few out of Barranquilla. I even learned today that the Ministry liked my proposal so much, they want to put it in a book for next year’s fellows.

THE COLOMBIAN GOVERNMENT WANT TO PUT ME IN A BOOK. I REPEAT - THE COLOMBIAN GOVERNMENT WANTS TO PUT ME IN A BOOOOOOK!

This week I am traveling home to attend a close friend’s wedding. Therefore, RC told me she’d come to the school in order to convince my Mentor realize that this was serious. She said she had to observe me in a class anyway, so she’d kill two birds with one stone.

In fact, last week I had not one person but TWO pepole observing my class, at the same time. The other woman, Jinger*, came straight from the Ministry. Afterwards she asked me questions for a survey. Jinger also told me how much the Ministry liked my proposal. This made it feel so much more real!

After the class, RC talked my principal and Julio, stressing the situation. Julio said he was willing to work with me. They planned to have a meeting for Monday, April 23 at 9am.

Back to Earth

And of course, what we didn’t plan for, was the Language Day Event.

In yesterday’s “second” period, the 10th grade girls had created stands outside their auditorium, across from the gym. Every girl was assigned to create a poster featuring a famous artist. One of my favorite students, Jordan*, explained everything to me, because of course, I had no idea what was going on. Her English is amazing, she plays three different instruments, and if I were her age, I’d want to be friends with her.

One table had a box which said: “Classic” and “Modern”. Students were encouraged to vote for which type of literature they preferred.

A variety of books were laid out across tables. Never in my life had I seen so many Spanish books all at once. I’m just only used to seeing it as a teeny tiny section in a Barnes and Nobles.

Some students got really into it!

It was also super cool to see famous young adult novels in Spanish, such as John Green books, Harry Potter, and the Book Thief.

Student-made posters of famous authors

The gym was decorated with balloons of all colors of the rainbow. Small cut-out alphabet letters hung on string from both sides of the bleachers. Larger cut-out letters spelled “Dia de Idioma” over the Balloon gateway.

Here, students presented poetry, sang and played instruments, and even acted out poems.

Literature has such an immense affect on my own culture.

An 11th grade student performing a poem

It was cool to see for myself how it can have a similar affect on another community that’s so different than my own.

When RC came to the school, these presentations were still going on. At first I couldn’t find Mentor.

Students singing a song

Instead I found Julio, who told me in Spanish (I think) was that we couldn’t have the meeting because of the event. I explained that RC was physically here, and he told me to just talk to Mentor, who in that moment, seemed to come out of nowhere.

Students acting out a poem

I told him RC was here. He just said “No, we changed the meeting to next Friday.”

I just blinked at him with confusion.

“Did you already talk to RC?”

“No.”

“Um, okay. But she’s here?”

“Oh RC is here?”

*Inner face-palm*.

“Yes, she’s here in the principal’s office.”

Mentor then told me how the Ministry sent him an e-mail, saying they would visit next Friday. Even though I told him that morning and last Friday that we had a meeting with RC, he seemed to have fused her and the Ministry together.

So, we went to the principal’s office without Julio.

Now, this part is what makes me most frustrated. In this conversation, I felt like although RC tried to talk to Mentor about my proposal, he only talked about the ideas that HE had. Mentor and I had talked about his ideas the past Friday. I had explained that a lot of his ideas were very similar to my ideas in my proposal.

But again here today, he talked about the project as if these ideas were all new, and just repeated things that RC and I had been saying on repeat. For example, HE even told RC how we “really had to hash out the details of the project”, yet didn’t provide any solutions. And this was the entire reason why RC had come in the first place!!!!

In this conversation I just felt so frustrated. I felt like I couldn’t speak because he just kept talking, and he never asked me to contribute. The only time I spoke was at the end of the meeting, when RC asked me if I had questions.

I just felt so thwarted. Here I was, a 24 year old adult woman, feeling like I’m 12 years old parent was speaking to a teacher for me.

The Ministry had selected ME specifically for my own project, yet he completely overlooked this fact. I knew my RC was trying to politely stick to the facts and be solution oriented.

I hate saying this, but through his actions felt like he was just being a stereotypical man. In my experience in working with men, this happens so often. Also in the past, the men I’ve worked with won’t do something unless they think it’s their idea, which was totally happening now.

At the end of the conversation, I suggested to Mentor that the two of us should meet tomorrow and finalize the details. I said that at home after school, I would reorganize my proposal to fit for May, and he agreed. I said want to have something done before I leave on Thursday.

RC left, I talked with him a little more. I asked him at what time tomorrow he was free to talk more about the proposal. I said I was free tomorrow at fourth period.

But then he then told me at fourth period that the 10th grade would be presenting.

“Tomorrow they’re presenting? Not today?”

“No, today they are presenting.”

“Um okay so are you free tomorrow?”

“Oh no I am not.”

“Okay, so when are you free to go over the proposal once it’s reorganized?”

“Oh, can’t we do it at today’s meeting?”

Every Monday we have a meeting with the other English teachers. They normally speak in Spanish the whole time, but I was determined to have a say this time. I felt it was important to inform the other teachers about my project, since this did involve English. But since I didn’t have a revised proposal and we just talked about this, it didn’t make sense. I explained myself again.

I think after a few times he understood, and we settled on a time on Wednesday instead.

Normally that wouldn’t have made me impatient, but I felt so pissed off inside. We literally had just talked about this, and I felt like my head was spinning in circles.

The following period, the 10th grade really were presenting. I had noticed in the beginning of the morning that they had decorated the Auditorium in red and black. But I didn’t know the purpose of it!

When I returned for the second part of the morning, a red carpet was rolled out. The windows were covered with long strips of red paper.

About a dozen tables lined the inner perimeter, surrounded by students in uniform, and in red and black costumes. Cut-out decorations of spades, hearts, diamonds, and clovers covered the walls, and pop music blasted from the speakers.

I then bumped into one Spanish teacher. She informed me that this was supposed to be a “Casino”. The “games” were like card-games, but based off of literature. She then had one student take me by the arm and led me to a table. She wore a purple blazer over white button down shirt, and half of her face was full of white makeup.

At this table, students had a deck of cards and poker chips spread out. From what I understood, three people at a time were to pick and flip a card. Whoever had the lowest value card won a poker chip.

If you had a chip, you could use it to bet on other games.

I found one of my co-teachers, JF playing a game. The students had orally told a story, and contestants had to answer a series of written questions about it. JF was so excited about it.

“Here if you win, you win a free book!”

I thought that was pretty neat.

I had also seen the principal and other teachers there, participating in games.

As I walked around the auditorium, a sentimental yet melancholy feeling came over me. This event and it’s atmosphere reminded me of all the events me and my City Year team did. Almost every month we’d have some sort of event, including two huge events during the year for students and parents. We got so into decorating that we’d plan months in advance.

It made me reminisce on how much fun we had making it, especially because we made it on our own. We had a lot of freedom with our events, and though it was a lot of work, we truly enjoyed it.

A thought dawned on me - that even though I was an experienced, well-equipped and creative event planner, I wouldn’t have the freedom to make my Social Project as awesome as it deserved to be.

In the classroom I feel as though I don’t have much control, because the teachers rarely plan with me. I thought that maybe this would allow me to feel in charge of my time here. I had also thought this about the English Club. But since that isn’t happening either anytime soon.

And once again, I felt powerless. I feel like I have so much potential to help students here, but it’s not being used. And it’s unfair to me, to the students, and to the government.

I left the auditorium and walked to the audio visual room. One of my favorite students, Jessa* told me that she would be presenting there. These were the girls who put on the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade for me. And so, I tried to put on a happy mask over my true feelings.

The room was covered from top to bottom in constellations. Black, ripped garbage bags had been tapped onto the walls, and string Christmas lights were pinned at the top, and lit all around the room. Jessa and another girl, Joy* welcomed me in white lab coats. On their pockets were names of a Nobel Science winner. There were about a dozen students in the room, and everyone had a specific constellation or planet to explain. Jessa and Joy knew my spanish wasn’t enough to fully understand everyone, so they went around the room with me, translating what every presenter said.

Some girls connected the planets to literature. One talked about a fictional planet from the “I am Number Four” series.

I am always amazed by these girls. They work so hard and always put on incredible presentations.

My takeaway from the day is this:

I love how holidays are celebrated here. It reminds me and encourages me to celebrate every aspect of life. I wish we had a Language Day celebration like this in the United States!

But if having so many celebrations comes with a price, and causes so many mishaps, like schedule changes and missed time, I think I’d instead take a consistent schedule any day.

#language day #23 de abril #english teacher #frustrations #shakespeare #colombia #barranquilla #teaching fellow #social project

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skyljammes-blog · 7 years ago

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Retro Review: A Hunger Like No Other by Kresley Cole.

Reviewer: Rowena A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2) by Kresley Cole Series: Immortals After Dark #2 Published by Pocket Star Publication Date: April 1st 2006 Genres: Paranormal Romance Pages: 356 Buy on Amazon | Barnes & Noble Goodreads

Acclaimed author Kresley Cole introduces a sizzling new series with this tale of a fierce werewolf and a bewitching vampire-unlikely soul mates whose passion will test the boundaries of life and death.

A mythic warrior who'll stop at nothing to possess her...

After enduring years of torture from the vampire horde, Lachlain MacRieve, leader of the Lykae Clan, is enraged to find the predestined mate he's waited millennia for is a vampire. Or partly one. This Emmaline is a small, ethereal half Valkyrie/half vampire, who somehow begins to soothe the fury burning within him.

A vampire captured by her wildest fantasy...

Sheltered Emmaline Troy finally sets out to uncover the truth about her deceased parents-until a powerful Lykae claims her as his mate and forces her back to his ancestral Scottish castle. There, her fear of the Lykae-and their notorious dark desires-ebbs as he begins a slow, wicked seduction to sate her own dark cravings.

An all-consuming desire...

Yet when an ancient evil from her past resurfaces, will their desire deepen into a love that can bring a proud warrior to his knees and turn a gentle beauty into the fighter she was born to be?

*****As part of our 10 year anniversary celebration, we'll be re-posting old reviews and posts that make us cringe, laugh or sigh all over again.

This review was originally posted on June 4, 2007.

So I took a break from the Crazy series because I left the next book at home and I had this one with me so I started reading it and man, I've got to publicly thank Lori for pimping this book to me a couple of weeks ago, because man did I devour this book on Saturday. This is the first book in the Immortals After Dark series by Kresley Cole.

The book is about the Lykae King who was captured and held captive by these mean bad ass vampires and tortured like you can't even imagine and his never-ending quest to find his true mate. He's searched high and low for this woman for the last roughly like 1100 years, to no avail until one day, he's in chains and he scents her, above him and the guy goes a little crazy. He breaks his chains and rushes to find her, only to find out that his mate, his beloved mate is one of the things he detests most in this worlda vampire.

So you can only imagine how pissed off he was. I mean, he's caught and held captive and then tortured within an inch of his life and then the one thing that gets him out of this mess, his mate turns out to be one of them.

It's been hundreds of years that he's searched for her and he's not going to let one little thing like her being a vampire stand in the way of him and his mate. Although he's pissed to high heaven about this turn of events, he still kidnaps Emma and forces her to his will. He's consumed with hatred for vampires and everything they've done to him and his family. He vows to never let her go back to her family and even though he hates everything she turned out to be, timid, shy and well, vampire he still catches himself before actually hurting her because, there's something about her

He askes her to drive him to his family home, where he can finally get back to his own people and on the way, he softens toward her like it was no thang, by the time they're home, she becomes so much more than just his mate. So now, he's got to convince her to stay with him because she loves him and not because she's too scared to leave. He's got to convince her to stay before her Aunts come calling on them for a war, since he refuses to give her up.

Tempers flair and people change, but will it be enough for this Lykae King to finally be at peace with the mate he's searched his whole life for?

You bet your bottom dollar it is, this is romance of course. =)

Man, this book was really good. I liked the passion with which Lachlain did everything. He never did anything by half measure, if he hated your guts, he hated you with everything that he was and made no move to hide his displeasure or hatred. If he loved you, he did all he could to keep you around and went to any lengths to make you see things his way. He was very demanding at the same time he was very patient. He was a man of his word and he was not to be taken lightlyever. Lachlain was passionate and just so hot damn hot even with his regenerating leg, he was yum yum yumeven when he was being an ass. He did a lot of stupid things that I hated in the beginning but as he got to know Emma and care for her, I started to forgive him for all his wrongdoings in the beginning of the book.

Emma learned that Lachlain was a man who wasn't above lying, cheating and using whatever was at his disposal to get what he wants and though she softened toward him at the end, he still had a lot to prove to her and I was so happy that she grew a pair to finally tell him where to shove his crap. I loved that each time she drank from him, she got so strong and she would smack the shit out of him and be all like, Thats for pissing me off and whatever else she would say, I loved it!

I loved how she stood up for herself and did the one thing that would unite her with the people she knows and loves. I loved that she took it upon herself to do that thing and it endeared her to me greatly.

The world that Kresley Cole created with all these demons and vampires, Lykae and Valkyrie intrigued me right from the very beginning, I couldn't help but be pulled into the world with each word that I read in the beginning, I felt Lachlain's hatred and I felt his haunted past trying to ruin everything he had with Emma and I love love loved how he fought to keep Emma by his side, regardless of who and what she was.

It was a true romance in every sense of the word and I just ate it all up. There were things in the beginning that I didn't really care for but other than the way Lachlain and Emma meet and the way he treated her in the beginning, I really enjoyed this story. It was smooth reading and Kresley Cole's voice in this story makes me look forward to more from her, this was a definite delight!

Read it!

Grade: 4 out of 5

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annedennish · 8 years ago

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Today I celebrate the one year anniversary publication date of my book, “Waking Up: Lessons Learned Through My Adventures With Life and Breast Cancer.”

I began writing it during my journey with breast cancer. It began as a book of my quotes, which eventually turned into short stories, the topics of which are many: love, family, children, addiction, sexuality, relationships and more. Each story was based on my own personal experience or that of someone close to me, and yes, they’re all true stories.

As I began to put the book together to send to the publisher, I had a last minute thought, which would prove to be the most helpful to some people: I included my breast cancer journal. It was an up-close, personal and very intimate look into my journey with breast cancer.

It took over two years to write “Waking Up,” and when writer’s block was slowing me down as I neared the end to finish it, a friend offered me the use of her Malibu beach house. I took advantage of the offer and went out there in October of 2015, spending a week writing the last few stories of the book. I had no distractions while there, unless you count my view of the ocean, which was sitting at the bottom of the steps of the house. It was a dream come true to be on the water, watching the waves, listening to the sounds, and being able to walk the beach under a beautiful sunlit sky everyday. I miss that house so much, yet the memories of that time there remain. The last story I wrote for my book was written on the deck of that house and it’s called “Voice of the Ocean.” I finished my book, packed my bags, wrote my name in the sand of that Malibu beach and flew home.

The cancer journey ended, but the book hadn’t. It took another year to complete it, and while I was frustrated over the time it was taking, I knew that there was a reason why. I’d find out that reason in February of 2015 when I met the love of my life. He has been my inspiration and my muse ever since, and many of the stories are born out of our love for one another and all that I’ve learned since I met him. You can see why I believe so strongly that “everything happens as it should, when it should, and how it should.”

“Waking Up” was published one year ago today, and of all the things I’ve written over the years, this was truly my most valued piece. What started as a book of quotes turned into something different, yet my intention was always the same: to make a difference in someone’s life. And judging by responses I’ve received during the last year, I’d say that I did.

Thank you to all of you who have supported “Waking Up” throughout the last year! It means the world to me and I couldn’t have done it without you!

Reach for the stars, catch your dreams, and live your life to the fullest!

Dreams really do come true…and that I can promise you!

Wishing you love and light,

~Anne Dennish~

Copies of “Waking Up: Lessons Learned Through My Adventures With Life and Breast Cancer” can be purchased online at BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com and in most Barnes & Noble stores.

Happy Anniversary “Waking Up” Today I celebrate the one year anniversary publication date of my book, "Waking Up: Lessons Learned Through My Adventures With Life and Breast Cancer."

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joestories · 8 years ago

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Rotten Luck

(co-authored with JK)

I was aware my former roommate had a six figure publishing deal long before his book came out. Then it came out and it instantly became one of those books that everybody was reading.

Well, not me. I was avoiding it. I was telling myself I didn’t want to dwell on the success of others, but if I’m being honest, I was jealous, too.

Then Jenny started reading it.

She was describing it to me over dinner. “It’s the story of this fast-growing cult that believes that we’re actually living in a computer simulation.” The plot sounded suspiciously familiar.

"I had an idea just like that.”

“Well, you should have written it. It would have been a bestseller.”

She went on to describe some other parts of the plot, and I started to have a sinking feeling. These were all my ideas.

I wanted her to tell me everything. She hesitated. “I don’t want to give too much away, the twists are just too good to spoil.”

"The protagonist’s girlfriend turns out to be a witch? His father is gay?"

"How do you know? I thought you hadn't read it."

"I didn't read it, I wrote it! Those were my ideas. Where is it?”

Before she could say anything, I dumped the contents of her tote on our coffee table. I found what I was looking for.

The cover was bright red. You’ll recognize that as a bit of irony later. It was a thin volume, more of a novella really. Jenny shouted something at me, but I was already sinking into the couch with the book.

I recognized every detail.

It didn’t take me long to finish it, but then I couldn’t sleep, so I made a list of every idea that I could recognize as my own.

“I don’t understand how it’s your novel,” said Jenny as she started up the coffee maker.

“I had written an outline for this exact story in a red notebook that I kept when I lived as roommates with Stephen. When he moved out, the red notebook suspiciously vanished.”

“So he stole your notebook and turned your ideas into a bestselling novel?”

“Yes! So now what?” But before she could answer, I picked up my phone and started scrolling through the contacts. I still had his number. “I’m going to call him,” I announced, but it sounded more like a question.

Jenny looked me over. I must have looked pretty haggard. “Maybe you should wait until you get some rest before you do anything.”

But I couldn’t wait. I had to take action. I dialed his number. It was disconnected, which helped inspired my rage.

“This is just like him. This is exactly the kind of thing he would do. I used to wear horn rimmed glasses. And then he got horn-rimmed glasses too. He always copied me. That asshole never did an original thing in his life.”

Jenny seemed worried. "Maybe write your thoughts down," she said.

“I’ll write him an email.”

So I did. I sat down and wrote a really angry email. Actually, it was more the outline of an angry email, but the emotion was all there.

Jenny looked over it, and told me there was no way I could send it. Now she was looking at me with a new expression. It may have been doubt.

“He even copied my major in college. He wanted to be an animator, but he switched to creative writing, like me.”

“I really think you need to calm down. There’s nothing you can do right now.”

“I’ll sue him!”

“How will you prove it? What do you have on him?” She was right, it was all in the red notebook that had disappeared.

I had mourned the loss of that red notebook. I couldn’t believe I had been so careless as to misplace it. But it turns out I hadn’t! My ex-roommate had stolen it.

Jenny left for work and I got started on a new email. I decided I would attempt a measured approach.

Stephen,

It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up. Congratulations on the book. I read it the other day, and I found it very provocative. Very familiar. We should talk about it. I’m in the city and I know you are too. Are you free this afternoon?

Pete

I called small publisher that employed me and told Frank, the editor, that I wouldn’t be in today. He seemed pretty disappointed. There were a lot of manuscripts to get through. I suggested getting one of the interns from downstairs to help. But I was certain that Stephen would want to resolve this matter with me. I was sure I would be meeting with him.

I waited all day for a reply that never came. I had maintained my facade for as long as I could.

Stephen,

You fucking asshole. I know you stole the plot of Fear of Silence from me. It’s a great book. The critics are right about it. But I’m the one who should be getting credit. I know you stole my ideas. You ruined the ending too, nice work there. I don’t know how you sleep at night.

I pressed send. If being nice hadn’t elicited a response, then being aggressive would have to do something, right? No. There was still no response.

Jenny came home with dinner. She asked how I was. I told her I fine, but it must have been pretty unconvincing, because I don’t think we said anything else to each other that entire night.

The next day, I stormed into Frank’s office with the story of how Stephen had plagiarized me. “Well, what he did isn’t actually plagiarization, there’s maybe more of a grey area there.”

“Not morally.”

“Well, no, certainly not. Wait, is this why you weren’t in the office yesterday?”

I was caught, and as I fumbled to form a reply, Frank waved down someone from the hall. “I wanted you to meet Jake the intern. I took your advice and gave him some of your manuscripts yesterday. He already had notes on them this morning.”

Jake the intern extended a hand. “Hello!”

“Hello,” I said, shaking his hand.

“I think Jake is going to be a great asset to you,” Frank told me.

I was checking my email very frequently, thinking it was possible that Stephen might write back. But another day passed, and I couldn’t help myself.

You fucking liar. You thief. You’ve never had an original idea in your life. Well, I’m gonna sue you for everything you’ve got. And then everyone will know who the real author is. You’re gonna lose everything. Soon.

No reply to that, either. I stopped talking to Jenny about it, and she stopped asking. I knew it would just make her upset.

I started seeking revenge in subtle ways. I went to Barnes and Noble, found a stack of Stephen’s book, and tore the covers off. Well, I tried. Stupid hardback books, you can’t really tear the covers off. So I just ripped the dust jackets and threw away a few copies in the coffee shop trashcan.

Over the week that followed, I became more obsessive. I thought maybe I could glean some useful information by reading interviews with Stephen, but it was just feeding my rage. He’d done a lot of interviews.

Where do you get your ideas?

They just come to me, I receive these things from the universe and bring them to life.

What’s your writing process?

I never write with a computer. I find it more liberating to write longhand. I keep all my ideas in a red notebook.

The most infuriating part was that I was certain that these answers were regurgitated from conversations we’d had as roommates. He wasn’t just stealing my ideas, he was stealing my persona.

I read an interview where Stephen said he does most of his writing in a local coffee shop. I made some educated guesses about which coffee shops those might be, based on the neighborhood I knew he lived in. I would visit them before work, hoping to encounter him.

I strolled into work after one of these outings and Frank pulled me into his office. He berated me about my ongoing tardiness, but also seemed offended that I hadn’t bothered to make any effort to encourage Jake the intern. He was doing good work. I apologized and went back to my desk.

It was true that Jake was basically doing my job for me. This didn’t seem to bother him. He was returning a stack of manuscripts when I stopped him. “You’re doing a great job.”

Jake seemed surprised. “Oh, thank you.” He picked up the top book on the stack and handed it to me. “This was my favorite of the bunch. It’s about a man who can stop time whenever he cries. But he has trouble allowing himself to cry.”

I looked at the spartan cover. The title didn’t seem to fit. “The Observer?”

“The title could use some work,” Jake agreed.

I thought for a second. “The Fundamentals of Crying.”

“Ha! I like that,” Jake said. Then there was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Are you familiar with the work on Stephen Gregor?” I asked.

Jake tensed up, and offered a diplomatic non-answer. “Frank told me that you and him had a disagreement.”

“Ha, yes. A disagreement. That’s one way of explaining it.”

“Have you spoken with him about how you’re feeling?”

“I would love to, but tracking him down has been nearly impossible.”

“He doing a signing at The Strand tomorrow, I’m sure he��d make some time for an old friend afterwards.”

This was it. I was going to see Stephen in person. It was finally going to happen.

That night unfortunately had the bad luck of being my one year anniversary with Jenny. I had neglected to make any plans, so we had a quiet dinner at home, and I could barely maintain a conversation. My brain was going over every possible outcome. Everything I might say when I had the chance.

I showed up an hour early for the signing. On my way in, I was stopped by an employee and informed that I was required to purchase a copy of the book to attend the event. I argued with him, but it was no use. So I caved and agreed to purchase another copy of the book. I took a seat near the back. I didn’t want Stephen to notice me. I didn’t want to give him a chance to prepare.

I gritted my teeth through the reading and waited for the Q&A to start. The moderator was an awful sycophant and they rambled on forever and ever, talking about his new book and whether technology was ruining the arts. Every time Stephen spoke about inspiration, my blood pressure went up.

As soon as they opened it up to questions from the audience, my memory of the event becomes hazy. I recall moving towards the microphone like it was oxygen to a drowning man. I remember the look of recognition when Stephen saw me.

The thing about delivering an accusatory speech is that there are other people in the room who can talk at the same time, which can get very distracting. When you’re delivering a speech at a wedding, the audience is sitting quietly or clapping. But when they start booing and the author who you most hate in the entire universe, your former roommate, a man who you shared drinks and late night drinks with, starts saying “I don’t know this man” repeatedly, it can really throw off your game. And then when security appears, it gets worse.

It’s entirely natural to start yelling when your microphone gets cut off and security guards are forcibly dragging you out of the room. The internet videos show all that. Unfortunately, they miss the beginning, when I make my accusations. They don’t capture the look of horror and guilt on Stephen’s face.

I may look crazy, but I know I got through to him, that it left an impact. They said they were calling the police, but I don’t think they actually did. They told me I was no longer welcome at The Strand and threw me out on the street. It was worth it. I’d been bottling up a lot of emotion.

I must have been in a bit of a daze when I got home, because it wasn’t until the next morning that I realized Jenny had never come home. By then, the unflattering video of my interruption was making its rounds on the internet.

Frank called me into his office when he saw it. He was just shaking his head. The publisher that employed me had been named, so now the whole company was getting shamed for my embarrassing behavior.

Frank said he understood my anger, but I needed to find a meaningful way to channel it. I needed to think before I act. It felt like fatherly advice, even though Frank was only a few years older than me.

Before I left the office, Frank said he appreciated that I was getting along with Jake. “He’s actually a pretty clever guy. He suggested a new title for The Observer: The Fundamentals of Crying. Isn’t that a much better title?”

I was livid. I stormed out of Frank’s office. I found Jake in the hallway and started screaming at him. Jake started crying, then suddenly a burly security guy was dragging me out of the office. This was how I lost my job.

Now that I no longer had a job stealing time from my Stephen hunt, I could redouble my efforts. I went home and forced myself to watch the internet video where I confront Stephen. The only thing Stephen says is, “I don’t know this man.”

But what if I could prove that he did know me? Wouldn’t that redeem me? It would prove that Steven was a liar.

I threw open the closet door and started dumping boxes on the floor. Was his name on the lease? Did I even have that old lease? Maybe an old utility bill? A note? A photograph of the two of us together in the apartment? If only I had known that someday I would need to prove our cohabitation!

But there was nothing. That’s when I thought of the books. Perhaps I had some books that had belonged to him, and perhaps he had written his name, or maybe just some notes in the margin that could be matched to his handwriting. This seemed like a promising lead, so I enacted a system for sorting through the books. The ones on the shelf hadn’t been checked, the ones on the floor had.

I was halfway through the bookshelf when Jenny came home. I could tell she had something to say, and it seemed like she had been planning it, and now she would probably have to do a last minute update to incorporate this business with the books.

She clearly had planned out what she was going to say, but just like I had at the bookstore, she ran off script. She called me jealous. Obsessed. Insane. She said she just wanted to think about us, to reflect on these new things she’d learned about me. She said I was a talented writer but that I have some issues to work through. I thanked her for the compliment and she left.

The next day, she called to check in on me. She suggested that instead of continuing to plot my revenge and sue Stephen, I should make something new.

She reminded me that I had proof that my ideas could be well received, so maybe it was time to finish something. I didn’t react well at the time of her call, but by that evening I had realized that she was probably right.

So I started writing.

This is going to sound crazy, but I assure you, it’s all true. My former roommate, Isaac Stephen, stole my notes for a book and adapted them into a bestselling novel, Prisoner’s Dilemma. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Well, Stephen is a hack. Here’s what really happened.

I changed the names, since this was to be an ostensible work of fiction. I changed a few details here and there, but it’s my story, in essence. A true story. The story about a man who is cheated out of his brilliant story and plots against the man who stole his idea and his would-be fame.

It felt great to put it down, to share what really happened.

Since I didn’t have a job anymore, I was able to focus on writing full time. I threw myself into it. I had a first draft in under a week. Of course, in reality, there wasn’t an ending to the story, so I would have to invent one.

The ending I finally settled on finds the protagonist reunited with his beloved red notebook. But he’s become so paranoid that he’s sure it’s a facsimile of the original. He is certain that the person who stole it has recreated it, but softened the ideas so they no longer much resemble the ones he stole. In a fit of rage, the protagonist burns the notebook, destroying the only evidence which could redeem him.

I sent the manuscript to Frank. Even though I was unceremoniously fired after the incident with Jake the intern, he still had a soft spot for me. I was surprised when he called me the next day. He was up all night reading it. He’s very fond of it, but he has one reservation.

“Well, this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but I just got a galley of Stephen’s new novel, and… well, it reads very similarly. It’s about a man who becomes obsessed with a successful author and tricks himself into believing that this author stole his ideas.”

I was furious. But I didn’t speak, I just listened. Frank continued, “The funny thing is, the twist is that it turns out the author really did steal the ideas. He was gaslighting the man whose ideas he had stolen the whole time. Sorry, I hope I’m not spoiling anything for you.”

Stephen’s new novel, The Amatuer, was published three weeks later. It received mixed reviews. My own novel, The Plagiarist, was released in a very limited run. Last I heard, less than 300 copies were sold. The one review it received compared it to Stephen’s book.

I’ve become less obsessed with Stephen, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t keep tabs on him. I was dismayed when I saw he was engaged to that Hollywood actress. And it was in a video after the announcement of the engagement that I noticed something troubling. Stephen and his entourage were leaving his upscale Soho loft and stepping into a black SUV.

Stephen was holding something, and it flashed on the screen for only a second. For anyone else in the world, it would just be a flash of red, obscured by his jacket. But I immediately knew what it was.

It was my red notebook.

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