#you must understand this is insanely successful and significant for who he is and how protective he is of her

[aceyanaheim]

which like I do wanna come to Ecuador more.

This is like...hands down the most peaceful place for me it always has been.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i feel like if ace's UM does end up just allowing him to copy other's UM, it would solve a potential problem which is malleus putting everyone into a state of sleep. like they told us that it would only be lifted if malleus either lifts it up on his own or if he dies and idt twst would kill off a major and VERY popular character. but if they give ace that ability as his UM it would solve that in a way?

but if they do give that to ace as his UM i hope that ace would struggle to copy people's abilities, or at least kinda go through the emotions the original spell caster felt when theyre using their UM or when they first awoken it. maybe like a price to pay to use other's abilities but thats just me HAHAHHA

Yeeeah, that's what I was thinking too. I can't imagine Ace's UM being anything but a UM borrowing/mimicry spell right now (due to his own propensity to easily learn new skills and do vocal impressions)... It would also just be really useful for the end of book 7, since the briar barrier can only be taken down with Malleus's death or with Malleus willingly removing his magic. Given Malleus's stubbornness and being in such an emotional state, I really doubt he'd be able to come to his senses even all these hundreds of parts later. I really doubt whether all of our powers combined can take him down either, given his track record of being so stupidly OP. And it for sure wouldn't be a good move on the Twst devs' part to kill off such a money maker and significant part of their marketing for their series. (I do want to point out, however, that Malleus's insane popularity is exclusive to the international/English-speaking part of the fandom; he is not a top contender in JP and I would say has more of a middling status.) Having someone else reproduce his UM could very easily resolve this issue, but I guess that's also highly dependent on if Ace can get a grip on his UM that fast, or if he can even feasibly iron out the kinks of controlling what is probably a very complex spell. Epel, who got his UM most recently in book 6, still seems to have only a 70-80% success rate with his, so it's possible that Ace doesn't fully master his UM even if he gets it as soon as his own dream. I definitely don't think Ace would be able to use his (theoretical) copying UM to its full extent ASAP, as then we could just cut the dreams short right then and there. I feel like it'd become more relevant during the actual OB Malleus showdown or something. In general, there'd have to be come kind of drawback or limitations to his UM even if he got used to casting it at some point (just for power balancing reasons). Maybe there's a cooldown period, or he can only use the UM as much as his imagination will allow, or maybe it requires that he be able to empathize with the feelings of the original mage.

... Oh, you know what??? That might actually tie book 7 up quite nicely! If Ace's UM allows him to copy the UMs of other mages but only with the stipulation that he must empathize or relate to how they were acting when the original mage used their UM... Wouldn't that mean that Ace has to understand Malleus's loneliness and the fear of being left behind by his loved ones??? ACE CAN ACTUALLY PERFECTLY RELATE TO THAT because he was in denial mode that Yuu would be going home earlier in book 7. On top of that, he's probably also harboring shame for making fun of Deuce so much, only to be the one who doesn't have his UM yet. Ace can totally relate to what Malleus is going through 👀 He'd be forced to confront his denial of his own emotional vulnerability because he sees Malleus displaying the very same behaviors.

Maybe Ace gets his UM early on but has no idea how to use it properly until it comes in clutch in the final battle because he realizes (at last) how Malleus is feeling. Then it’s Ace who becomes the trump card that lets us triumph…! And that brings us full-circle—the final boss being beaten by the first student that we met, our first friend… Ace Trappola 🫶

[lucky-slice]

Do you understand how much kevin respects neil? And i don't mean when it comes to exy, like sure there's a whole lot of you're not good enough followed by you will make court bluh bluh bluh, i mean fundamentally as a human.

Kevin and Neil's conversation after the truth of Neil's father is revealed drives me absolutely insane because I think it highlights a lot about how Kevin views Neil.

so indulge me for a bit....

I think a lot of people forget, in light of Andrew choking Kevin for not telling him the truth, that Kevin's initial reaction was to tell Neil to run.

*sorry for the quality - these are all screenshots off my phone

Kevin's instinct is to tell Neil to save himself, despite what that would mean for the team's success and for Kevin himself. This is significant to me for two reasons.

It highlights that Kevin genuinely cares about Neil outside of his exy potential. For most people, this would be a pretty obvious response to finding out your teammate has a guaranteed death sentence if they stick around, so it might not seem all that meaningful, but Kevin was raised in such an environment were you continued to play no matter what - even at the risk of death. Kevin is unflinchingly callous when it comes to exy and his teammates (*see his reaction to Seth's death), but he is frantic in his concern for Neil in contrast to his fairly passive response to basically anyone else's wellbeing outside of exy. Neil's death will have no real impact on Kevin. If Neil dies or goes to the ravens, nothing changes for Kevin. He is not at a greater risk of being hurt by Riko or the Moriyama's nor will his exy career be effected. That's not to say he would tell Neil to stay if he cared about him any less, but there is a desperation that implies a depth beyond just that of a teammate.

The fact that Kevin is frantic and desperate for Neil to leave, gives weight to his decision to keep teaching Neil in the aftermath of the revelation.

Neil doesn't want to run - he wants to be Neil Josten until the end. He gave Kevin his game and now he's asking him to keep it and Kevin obliges.

This is essentially Kevin promising that he will keep Neil's secret. He will allow Neil to wear his mask and continue teaching him despite the fact that Neil is essentially a dead man walking. This, to me, is Kevin ultimately respecting Neil and his choice. At any moment, Kevin has the ability to got to Wymack or Andrew and give Neil the chance at surviving, but that would mean betraying Neil.

Some people (certainly the foxes) would view refusing Neil's request as the proper and morally correct thing to do. But I think Kevin's immediate acceptance of Neil's decision is both immensely meaningful to Neil and also a signifier of a shared understanding between to two.

Imagine how impactful it must be for Neil, who has never had autonomy over his own life and has been marked for death basically since he was born, to be told that not only will his decisions and his autonomy be respected, but there is someone who will stand by his side on the court, knowing the whole truth, until the very end.

Kevin doesn't have much to offer Neil at this point. He can not give him a future - he'll be long dead before he can ever make court, and Kevin is a coward - he is not andrew, he can't stand up against the Moriyama's or Riko or Neil's father. Kevin can not protect Neil in a way that matters. All he can do is promise to keep Neil's secret and offer him a few more months of being Neil Josten.

I'm not including this to disparage Andrew or to suggest that he does not respect Neil, but this highlights that Kevin knows the decision to keep Neil's secret is one only Kevin would make. Andrew without a doubt would immediately try to get Neil to leave or attempt to get him into protection. I'm not passing a judgement of morality on what would've been the right thing to do, but I do think Kevin's reaction is indicative of the fact that Neil and Kevin understand each other in a way that no one else really will.

Neil and Kevin are a parallel's in a number of ways. Kevin lived the life that Neil was supposed to have and they are two parts of one story.

To them exy is not a game, but it's not really about exy either. It's about deciding to stay just to play for a couple more months even though you'll wind up dead because playing means you finally get to live after years of being a ghost. It's about playing to be the best no matter what, even though the consequences are having your hand smashed and the life you know completely demolished. It's about playing even though you're shaking with fear and anxiety because you need proof that your life, whether it be running to survive or living under an abusive hand, was not a waste.

Kevin agrees to keep Neil's secret because if the roles were reversed, Kevin would like to believe that he'd be strong enough to ask Neil for the same thing. This is obviously conjecture and a heavy heavy reading between the lines, but I'd like to think there's some truth there.

Finishing up with this line because it makes me a little emotional.

Kevin starts the conversation by calling Neil "Nathaniel" and ends it by calling him Neil again. Its right there in the text, "it was a promise". Kevin is offering Neil a life that is fully his - not his father's, not Riko's, but Neil's to do with what he would like, even if its only for a couple more months. If that's not respect, than I don't know what is.

[axshikka]

Business / World Affairs

Business and world affairs are deeply entwined in today's connected and quickly evolving globe. This affects the world at large and exerts an impact on people's lives on all fronts. Businesses of every kind and size, such as large enterprises to new startups, are essential to promoting innovation and advancing economic progress. World affairs cover a wide range of political, economic, social, and environmental problems that span beyond national borders and demand for cooperation and strategic decision-making on a global level. Leaders and entrepreneurs alike must be equipped to handle the difficulties and opportunities they will face, created by a rapidly changing and interdependent global environment.

Which qualities do business leaders possess that make their companies successful?

The ability to bring out the best in people

Confidence and courage

Self-awareness

Communication

Delegation skills

A potent leader is crucial to a company's success. A competent and effective leader does not merely assign tasks to their employees or tell them how to complete them. They instead empower their employees and motivate them. There are many ways to inspire employees. A leader must be able to support their employees and understand their problems and concerns. A leader must be empathetic and should promote honesty. A leader also must be portrayed as passionate, and purpose driven in their line of work to the employees.

Confidence is the foundation of success for business leaders. Being confident makes you more open to criticism, risk-taking, and willing to advance both professionally and personally. This will also help leaders develop stronger connections with employees. Hence, the primary distinction separating outstanding leaders and average managers is confidence.

One of the most significant characteristics of leadership is self-awareness as it enables one to comprehend how one acts as a leader. This quality helps great leaders identify the strengths and weaknesses in themselves and their employees. This also helps them reflect on how these advantages and drawbacks affect their firm.

Communication is a critical skill a leader must possess. Why? This is because the effectiveness of a company's work and the process by which tasks are completed are both heavily influenced by a leader's ability for successful communication with others.

When a leader refrains from delegating, their company is the one that suffers drawbacks and shortcomings. Providing another individual the authority to carry out particular duties and tasks is referred to as delegation. One of the fundamental and core ideas of leadership is the process of assigning and entrusting work to another individual.

Who are some leaders that possess these skills and how did they use them to benefit their company's success?

Sundar Pichai

Tim Cook

James Dimon

Sundar Pichai is an Indian American business executive and is the chief executive officer of Alphabet Inc. and its subsidiary, Google. He excels at creativity and problem-solving. He is also greatly known to demonstrate his ability to inspire and motivate his team, creating a culture of collaboration and inclusivity and commitment to excellence and innovation. Therefore, to the world, he is a potent, charismatic, diplomatic, and pragmatic leader.

Tim Cook is an American business executive who is the CEO of the insanely popular brand, Apple. According to various media and news resources, he is one of the world's best entrepreneurs. He joined Apple in 1981 and was later promoted to chief executive in 2011. Tim Cook has demonstrated his abilities as a leader through numerous qualities, traits, and skills. Tim Cook's main core leadership qualities are transparency, trust, risk-taking, belief, and diversity.

James Dimon is an American billionaire business executive and banker who is the chairman and chief executive of JPMorgan Chase. Under James Dimon's magnificent leadership skills, he made his company the largest U.S bank. James has achieved many remarkable feats during his life and has faced many obstacles, but he has always managed to overcome them. He was able to display his skills by showcasing his beliefs in teamwork and the workplace being a family. 

Great leaders have made a profound impact on the world and their enterprises in a variety of ways due to their unique skills. By inventing and creating products that changed industries, people like Tim Cook have shaped both the world and their own enterprises. The invention of ground-breaking products like the iPhone and iPad, which revolutionized the way people communicate knowledge, was made possible by his vision for intuitive technology. Thus, in conclusion, competent and potent leaders inspire and motivate their followers and employees to achieve extraordinary outcomes.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

The Supergirl Team calls you in despair. You’ve 2/3 episodes to save this season and leave a cliffhanger to the next season. You can do any ship, cut any actor, unlimited budget. What do you do?

My first call is to Brenda Strong, clearly. Lillian caustically provides Lena a reality check by not so subtly reminding her how Lex is an asshole and can't be trusted. She reveals she retained her pre-crisis memories, and remembers more than Lex deigned to tell her.

Lena is unimpressed, and dryly remarks, "And now you finally get to see everything Lex should have been. You must be thrilled."

"Yes, I do," Lillian affirms. "But a victory without sacrifice isn't victory. It's a handout."

Luthors don't accept handouts.

Lena stares at her mother, confused and wary. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Lex didn't earn it."

None of this was earned through toil. Lex chanced onto an opportunity and manipulated it to his utmost ability. Once upon a time, she might have been proud of his aptitude for machinations, Lillian admits, but she finds herself disillusioned with him.

"Not only does intended matricide sour the relationship somewhat," Lillian elaborates, "but more and more lately I've come to realize that while Lex indeed had incredible potential, I allowed that potential to blind me to yours."

Lex didn't earn his success, but Lena did. In just a few short years, Lena embodied the Luthor spirit unlike any Luthor had since the first generation-- since the generation that worked for their first million, their first merger, the first everything. She battled prejudice and attacks and failures, and though there may have been times she may have wavered, she always persisted.

"So why," her mother asks, "are you giving up now?"

Finally, Lena gives voice to her helplessness. How her friends have forsaken her and how in this world, she feels nineteen again, like she can do nothing without Lex.

"How can I," Lena asks, "when he crafted this very reality?"

"He has always crafted your reality, Lena. Your entire life has revolved around him, been shaped and warped by him. But what I've come to realize is that this world isn't his. It never was. All along, it was yours."

And so begins the tentative yet deepening relationship between Lena and her mother, as they conspire against Lex. They know he's up to something, but don't know what. In the end, they decide it doesn't matter what it was-- they would simply need to neutralize him.

Permanently.

----

On the other side of things, the superfriends start to realize that their goal of taking down Lex from the outside isn't working. They learn Brainy is compromised, and find themselves without a significant resource they had counted on. So they focus on mitigating the fallout of his use of the DEO.

Alex and Jonn find their way to helping aliens recover after DEO raids. Sometimes its just property damage, sometimes its arrests. They commiserate with the victims, promising that Lex won't be in power for much longer.

"It doesn't matter who is in power," the victims reply. It will only be someone just as cruel, or even indifferent. The DEO has always been this way, and it will always be this way.

When one alien mentions a specific raid, Alex realizes it was one that occurred under her tenure as Director. That as an agent and director she contributed to the abuse of aliens rights, liberties, and persons.

Later, she confesses to Kara that she always thought she was doing good at the DEO. But all along she'd really only been doing good for Kara.

"I will always be there for you, you know that right?" she asks, and Kara nods. "But I think, for the next little while, I need to focus on doing good for everyone else."

----

Meanwhile, at CatCo, Nia finds herself in a quandary. One day, Will asks her to grab him a coffee. Taken aback, Nia doesnt have time to respond before Will is off on his way. Unsure of what else to do, she uncomfortably obliges, choosing to believe it was a one off.

It isn't.

Again and again with increasing frequency, Will asks her to do things like grab coffee, make copies, etc. Soon she finds herself stuck in a cycle of doing what she's told and is too nervous to call him out after so long.

It takes Kara noticing and offering to speak to William about it before Nia bucks up the courage to do it herself.

"No," she says, the next time Will opens his mouth in her direction. "I will not get your coffee, or make your copies, or pull your copy edits. I am a reporter, just like you. Maybe a little less experienced, sure, but the only way I'm going to get experienced is by doing my own work and not the work of your assistant."

Will stares at her, and then flushes. "Nia, I am so sorry, I thought you were the office assistant. I had no idea."

This time it's Nia's turn to stare. "What? But-- I have over a dozen by-lines."

"Really?"

"I've been at every pitch meeting!"

Grimacing, Will meets her gaze. "I thought you were there to take notes. Honestly, I thought you and Kara were tight because she came from the assistant pool."

Nia scowls. "You also could have just asked me."

"And I should have. I truly am sorry, I've just been so wrapped up in--" He catches himself abruptly, then swiftly changes the subject. "Let me make it up to you. I have an interview with Lenny Maddow in twenty minutes. Would you like to sit in?"

Sit in with a Nobel-winner who isn't Lex Luthor?

"Uh, YEAH."

Nia recoups more of her pride when she asks some insightful questions that gets their guest to open up to an insane degree, and Will recognizes her talent as a reporter. He even tells her as much.

"I don't know how I ever mistook you for anything else."

He starts lending her more advice and opportunity-- before long he's the kind of mentor Kara used to be, but lost the time for. And after Will decides he can trust her he brings her in on his secret project investigating the Luthors.

Namely, Lena.

"She's the weak link. If she goes down, the rest will follow like dominos."

---

"I know we're kind of not on Team Lena right now," Nia remarks to the others at the tower later, "but the kind of things he thinks she's responsible for doesn't sound like Lena. In any reality."

J'onn and Alex both look at Kara. "It might be time to set aside our wounds for a moment," J'onn observes. "I don't need to be a fifth dimensional imp to deduce that a downfall for Lena would not be a good thing."

"Lex would be left unchecked," Alex chimes in.

Kara doesn't need convincing. She goes to Lena immediately, and squares off against Lena's chill reception with concern.

"I came to warn you."

"Let me guess... Lex can't be trusted."

With a grimace, Kara equivocates. "Yes, but I'm not the only one who thinks so. William Dey is digging into the Luthors, and for whatever reason, he's decided your the fulcrum to the entire operation."

"The reporter, William Dey?"

Kara shares what she knows of William's vendetta-- the best friend who died, the suspicions that Lex was involved. To her surprise, Lena huffs a mirthless laugh.

"He said he was going to be better."

"You... say that like you don't believe him."

"Of course I don't believe him. But I wanted to."

Lena knows better than to leave LuthorCorp. But she does pledge her help.

"This doesn't make us friends," Lena clarifies. "But whatever Lex is planning, he'll burn the world to the ground to get it."

Kara nods solemnly. "I understand."

---

The Superfriends now have their in. It's Lena who finally pieces together that Lex is after Leviathan. It's Lillian who pales at the mention, and after much toothpulling reveals that what no one ever told Lena is that her mother didn't just die-- she was murdered.

"Your home was broken into shortly after you were removed. The investigators only found one item of interest, hidden behind a piece of loosened baseboard. A cipher, on a folded piece of paper. Even Lionel only managed to translate two words. One was Leviathan."

The other, Lena soon discovers, was Acrata.

---

Altogether, the superfriends and Will and Lena all manage to erode Lex's stranglehold on the new reality. Lex doesn't make it easy, but a combination of J'onn and Alex earning more of the public trust, Supergirl resisting Lex at every turn, Will and Nia tag-teaming Andrea's connection to Leviathan, Lena beats Lex to the Leviathan sanctum.

By a matter of minutes, sure, but the fact she finds her way there on her own when Lex has to be led by Gamemnae is a true victory, and a practical embodiment of Lillian's earlier words.

Lena's victory is compounded when Lex's eyes flash with irritation: he doesn't expect to see her there.

"Heya, sis. I didn't realize we had a meeting."

"We don't," Lena tells her brother, even her eyes lock on the woman beside him.

The woman steps towards Lena, her lips curling into a pleased smile.

"We do," the woman confirms. It's clear she doesn't include Lex.

Before he can do more than sputter, she continues. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find us."

Lena holds her gaze. "The medallion."

Gamemnae nods. "Ever since it was found, we knew it would only be a matter of time."

There's only one question Lena intends to ask.

"Who was my mother?"

And so she learns that her mother was part of Leviathan-- that she had grown lonely, and sought comfort in the arms of mortals. It had only meant to be temporary, but when the unthinkable happened, and she found herself pregnant, she chose to remain in the mortal world with her daughter.

What Gamemnae doesn't explain, but Lena senses instinctively, is that her mother had sought to protect Lena from Leviathan. To keep her human, keep her alive. That somehow, despite being an agent of destruction, Lena's birth had prompted her mother to leave Leviathan behind, and to be better than she was.

Gamemnae's pitch is enticing-- the ability to bring humanity together through disaster, to call upon their communal instincts by reducing their numbers, reset the world so that the planet and its population have a chance to survive for eons to come.

She offers power and influence, and a long life-- millenia to engage with and observe the discoveries still far in the future.

It's almost enough for Lena to say yes.

Almost.

It is enough for Lena to accept the medallion, the only true memory Lena has of her mother. Gamemnae summons it from the ether, and Lena takes it in her fingers, cradling it like the precious artifact it is.

When she closes her hand around it, Lena blinks and finds herself in a place of utter darkness. But despite the emptiness, she isn't afraid.

"Lena."

"Mom."

The woman who appears before her is familiar in a way that touches deep in Lena's soul. Tears fill Lena's eyes as she drinks in the sight of her mother, committing her to memory.

"I forgot what you looked like," Lena confesses with a breathless laugh. "When I generated an avatar of you, I had to base it on my own image."

The embrace her mother wraps her in is unbidden and unexpected. It steals Lena's breath and floods her with warm. Her tears spill over as she clutches her mother tight.

"I've missed you."

"And I you, my darling," her mother murmurs. "You have grown to be everything I ever wanted for you."

A bolt of shame travels down Lena's spine, and she pulls away.

"You mean embroiled in the most hated family in history?"

"I mean that you are strong, and powerful, and brilliant. Your compassion and empathy are a force powerful than you know."

Lena looks away. How can she explain how close she had come to lose the soul her mother had loved so dearly. Non Nocere burns like a hot poker of shame, digging deep in her belly and twisting sharply.

But her mother cups her cheeks, tilting her gaze up to meet hers once more.

"We all make mistakes, my love. What matters most is what you do to correct them."

Before Lena can say anything more, her mother kisses her on the head, and offers a smile as warm as the sun.

"Everyone you have ever loved is carried inside you. They speak to you every day. When times are uncertain, listen to your heart. They will never lead you astray."

Lena blinks back to the Leviathan sanctum to find Lex pelting Gamemnae with outrage and accusations.

"We had an agreement! You and I had a partnership!"

"And now that it has brought me your sister, I am no longer in need of it."

"You forget that I watched Rama Khan in our previous reality-- I know Leviathan's style. My baby sister isn't the type you would want to recruit."

"You don't comprehend what Leviathan is," Gamemnae only smiles sweetly, unfazed by Lex's posturing. "We are born and chosen both. That is what Lena is. And you, Alexander Luthor, are neither."

"Buh--"

With a wave of Gamemnae's hand, Lex disappears, transported.... somewhere. Lena can barely think to consider his welfare before Gamemnae turns her powerful gaze towards her once more.

"Welcome home, Lena."

---

In the end, Lena doesn't accept. The power offered her is tempting, but she's wise enough to know that a deal so sweet could never come without strings. Whether it be her humanity, her soul, or something else entirely, she would lose something dear. Something precious.

"Come now, Lena," Gamemnae cautions. "I know how ingelligent you are. You know that you won't be allowed to leave alive should you decline."

Her mother's voice echoes in Lena's ears: listen to your heart. She does, and she hears them all-- her people. Her loved. Her lost.

Her mother.

Jack.

Even Kara.

It's Kara that makes her pause, nearly has her agreeing. She knows the prospect of Kara's future, a life of longevity that would see her watching all her family die, for generations to come. If Lena could share those centuries with her, surely they could eventually find forgiveness and trust once more.

But Kara wouldn't want her to. Not like this.

So instead of taking Gamemnae's hand, Lena snatches her by the wrist and closes her hand around the medallion. This time Gamemnae appears in the void with her, where Lena's mother waits again.

"I need your help," Lena says. "All of you."

One by one, they materialize. All of the voices who have guided her appear from the shadows, their features kind and ready. Lena pushes Gamemnae towards them.

"Make our guest comfortable. She'll be staying with you for the foreseeable future."

Jack is the one who steadies Gamemnae. When he blinks, his eyes open to pitch darkness. So do the eyes of those around him, wraiths all. Even Lena's mother.

Lena hesitates only long enough to give her mother one last look.

"I love you."

Her mother nods. "I never doubted for a second. Go," she urges, "and live."

Lena returns to the Leviathan sanctum alone. She shatters the medallion to ensure no one else would use it, and sweeps the pieces up to liquidate against any attempts to reconstruct it.

Leviathan is done, without a single drop of blood shed.

Back at LuthorCorp, Lex is nowhere to be found. After a perfunctory search, control falls to Lena. Though she'll have to wait a mandated period of time before she can rebrand back to L-Corp, things are already feeling normal.

At least, right up until the moment Lena finally visits the Tower for the first time.

"Lena!" Kara calls in delight. During their time working together, things between them have repaired enough for her to wrap Lena in a brief hug and usher her further into the space.

"Come to beg us to back to the DEO?" Alex taunts. "I gotta warn you, I've gotten used to being my own boss."

"Actually," Lena says, "I'm disbanding the DEO."

There's a beat of silence, and then the entire room erupts into chaos. Questions fly at her from every direction, and she endures them quietly until she finally lifts a hand for quiet.

"It's time. The DEO has never been entirely above board, and if we're going to make strides in accepting aliens into Earth society, we have to start with nixing the extrajudicial arrests and imprisonment."

Lena looks at Kara, who has been suspiciously silent. Kara meets her gaze in apprehension.

"What does that mean for Supergirl?'

Lena offers her a smile that refreshes her soul.

"Well, it would be foolish to claim she isn't still needed, and that heroes don't do a lot of good. So I've already talked with the mayor about implementing a municipal licensing program for vigilante heroes. If successful, you'd basically be doing the exact same thing, with just a little more oversight, and a little less smash and grab."

Nia beams. "That sounds so cool!"

"And," Lena adds, sliding her gaze towards Alex and J'onn, "the program is going to need leadership that's familiar with both heroes and bureaucracy."

J'onn nods his readiness and agreement, but to everyone's surprise, Alex hesitates.

"It sounds like a great idea, Lena, really," Alex obfuscates, "but I think I still have more work to do on this side of things. As you say, the DEO has a lot to make up for."

Kara hugs her sister tight. "I'm so proud of you," she whispers.

"Wait, wait, wait..." Nia says, pumping the brakes ever so slightly. "Does this mean we don't get to be the Superfriends anymore?"

But Lena has an answer for that too.

"As the pilot heroes of this new program, I'm sure all of you will continue to work closely together, and I'm sure the legislation will include provisions for teams as well as individual. Which means that as National City's first and premier superhero league, the only thing you're missing is a sponsor." Which is to say, Lena intends to sponsor them.

"From my personal accounts," Lena is sure to specify, "and with tech either commercially available or engineered in my personal lab. LuthorCorp will won't be anywhere near it, and I will be operating as anonymously as possible... though given our history, I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard a guess for people to figure out."

When the team leaves for celebratory drinks, Kara and Lena linger. The air hangs thick and heavy between them, until Lena finally speaks.

"You once asked for bygones--"

"I did," Kara confirms. "And as much as I would love to return the favor--"

"We have a lot to talk about."

Kara nods, and Lena takes a deep breath. "All I ask," she continues, "is that you accept the good with the flaws. And that I only ever wanted to do good."

That much, Kara agrees without hesitation.

"I never thought anything else."

She loops her arm through Lena's, and together they walk towards the lift. As it rises to collect them, Kara rocks back on her heels.

"A lot of changes are coming our way," she remarks.

Lena hums an agreement, but misses the glance Kara gives her as they step into the lift before issuing one last pardon.

"There's no one else I'd rather face them with."

The elevator gate closes on the image of them gazing at each other, eyes locked and smiles brimming with the possibility of something new.

[ivesory]

10 Critical Parts of Guidance for Inventors

There are no one-size-fits-all technique inventors can adhere to, and there is no inventing roadmap to success that will certainly work in all instances. Notwithstanding, several things can and should be understood if an inventor is most likely to seek to invent as greater than a pastime.

By understanding some fundamental yet crucial information first you will significantly elevate the possibilities of doing well. This is not to claim that you will not make errors; mistakes are inescapable. You will, nonetheless, make fewer mistakes if you provide thoughtful consideration to what it is you are attempting to do. Running off as well as a beginning without gratitude for the process will prove costly. Before continue reading visit https://theavtimes.com/2020/07/01/amazing-ways-inventhelp-can-assist-you-as-an-inventor/

What complies with are 10 crucial items of recommendations for inventors.

1. Locate Your Passion as an Inventor

If you are a major inventor as well as do not intend on giving up the very first time an obstacle is placed in front of you, then you require to concentrate on something for which you have a true passion. The factor here is basic: The act of inventing takes a great deal of time so you need to like it to make it function. There will certainly be both successes and also setbacks, and any straightforward inventor will inform you of the troubles that surpass the successes. What makes inventing gratifying is the quest for success as well as the challenge. If you are not enthusiastic concerning your invention and also the field of endeavor the possibility you will certainly do well is really low.

2. Inventors Must Become an Expert

The greatest blunder I see all inventors make is they hurry right into a field of venture without actually recognizing what they are entering, or to resolve the trouble in an industry they do not understand. Every brand-new moms and dad all of a sudden end up being an inventor in the baby products area, however exactly how lots of having any kind of idea regarding the difficult government security policies enforced on baby products? While passion is called for, knowledge is additionally needed. A successful inventor will certainly find out whatever they can around each aspect of the area, from the technology to business, to the competition.

3. The Goal is Not Simply to Obtain a Patent

The goal is not to develop an amazing invention, the goal is not to get a patent, the goal is practically universally to generate income. The cool invention and license are a means throughout, not the end in as well as of themselves. Do not obtain so caught up in the imaginative facet of inventing that they fall short to quit and also ask whether they must be investing the time, money, and power into the production. The moral of the story is that the most effective innovation can cause no financial benefit, while often small improvements can lead to financial riches. Therefore, it usually makes good sense for the inventor to concentrate on inventing to fix specific troubles, as well as not just inventing to develop something unique.

4. Method Inventing in a Business Responsible Way

Treat your invention from day one as if it will certainly be hugely effective because by the time you recognize that this is the invention that will certainly be wildly successful it will be as well late unless you have grown the seeks for success early. Don't drop in love with an invention that is falling short when you can relocate on to the next project, which might be the one that will be successful.

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5. Don't Underestimate the Importance of a Patent Search

If it looks like just incredibly narrow patent protection will certainly be offered it most likely makes more sense to just relocate on to your following invention because inventors constantly have the next invention. Patent searches are also superb learning devices since they permit you to uncover which aspects of your invention are most likely to add to patentability.

6. Don't Underestimate the Importance of an Internet Search

Over the years I have preached to inventors about the relevance of doing a patent search. Previously in my career, I would certainly listen to from inventors who would certainly say that they browsed the Internet extensively and can not find the invention so they want to relocate ahead. For goodness benefits, if you come up with an invention the initial thing you must do is see whether it exists and can be purchased online or in shops.

7. Certificate Inventions Not Ideas

Without a patent-pending, you do not have anything to license aside from a suggestion that does not have substantial boundaries. When you seek to license a concept alone you can easily scare business. Even listening to a concept without substantial borders as specified in a minimum of a provisional license application can terrify business to the point where some, possibly many, won't intend to do it. Furthermore, the additional you can create your idea the better and better it will certainly end up being. A suggestion may be worth a little to an extremely minimal number of individuals, yet an idea that has taken shape and has become an invention is worth also more as well as to even more people. An invention that has been defined in a provisional patent application is worth more. Famous inventor trainer Stephen Key discusses a submitted provisional license application creating "viewed possession," and he recommends his inventor pupils seriously make the effort as well as the power to define their ideas in concrete methods to create those regarded civil liberties with a provisionary filing. That is exceptional advice.

8. Set a Budget

Inventing and also commercializing can be exceptionally expensive, and also if you are an inventor that implies you are creative and also it is insane to assume that your current invention will be your last. Many inventors have a handful of inventions at any type of one point, so the difficulty they have is selecting which one to seek first. That being the case, and the inescapable truth that you may not rack up with the initial invention you pick, you need to set a budget and also constantly review via the process to ensure that it continues to make good sense to go after the invention. Spending time and money is something, yet spending good cash as well as your time once the search has been demonstrated to likely not be rewarding is absolutely nothing short of a catastrophe. I suggest you establish a spending plan, which you can reassess if points appear to be relocating forward in a favorable instruction. When you reach your budget restriction if there is no favorable energy you need to proceed to what is following. Do not throw your work away, you never know when it might become appropriate or you may have an advancement motivation.

9. Proof of Concept

At some point, it will certainly come to be required to verify your invention, which is called a proof of principle. While it is real that an invention with a proof of principle will be more important than one without such evidence, it is still required for inventors to be cautious. You might begin functioning with an artist who can sketch your invention first on paper.

10. Plausibly Estimate the Size of the marketplace

There is nothing wrong with dreaming, however, there is an extremely vital cautionary tale to be outlined the significant harm that can be done to possibility when inventors exaggerate the market dimension for their invention. You don't intend to be the one that with confidence declares: "Everyone is mosting likely to require to get this invention." No one ever attains 100% market share, and if that is what you expect you will be let down. If you are serious about establishing the real size of the market you will certainly investigate openly readily available info and dig through the data using practical assertions. According to U.S. Census information, in 2016 40.6 million individuals were living in poverty in the United States. The poverty line for a person was $12,228, while the poverty line for a household of 4 was $24,563. So precisely the amount of individuals can manage to purchase your invention? And then think about how many people could need the invention. Also check out https://theavtimes.com/2020/07/01/amazing-ways-inventhelp-can-assist-you-as-an-inventor/

[allieallie]

Lovely Life by allieallie

 A breeze of cold air puffed across a young woman standing on a balcony holding letter tightly she read:

Dearest Lovely, 

I am sorry to leave you this fine day, I am sorry I haven't told you about my condition earlier. I didn't want to see your sad face every time we saw each other. All I wanted was to live the rest of my days with you.

 I remember the day we first went up on stage together with our first-ever song. I played the guitar and you were singing, with the most angel-like voice, that is when I fell head over heels for you. Every time you called my name, I had a desire to hold you close and never let go. 

 All the memories we made, please cherish them. I shall say my last goodbye, 

Please let the other bandmates know I said goodbye.

With lots of love,

Ryan.

 A tear dropping with every word. Grief filled the clouds, turning them grey. As the light rain starts, masking the tears, the lady walks back into the house only to cry some more. 

After that, she wouldn’t leave the house, nor answer the door. Feeling depressed, she lied on her bed. She lit a cigarette, although she had never done so before. As the days went by, her health started declining. Her angelic voice had disappeared, now replaced with a raspy, hoarse one. She waited for her death to approach. 

***

An old lady jerks up from her sleep, taking deep uncontrollable breaths. Her heart ached from the nightmare. As she got out of the bed, she accidentally knocked the lamp off of the side table, making a loud thud. Moments later the elderly woman saw the door slowly creaking open, followed by a voice. Thinking no-one was home, she listened nervously.

-Miss Lovely! is everything okay?

Relieved that it was only her nurse, Nila, she replied:

-Oh sorry dear, I accidentally knocked off the lamp.

The girl walks over and picks up the object in question and she asks:

-Is everything alright? You seem a bit upset.

-Oh, don't worry, I just had another silly dream. Everything is alright- Miss Lovely smiled, attempting to avoid the subject.

- Is it? You can tell me, I know you aren’t telling the truth.

- Alright I suppose I should. I- - Miss Lovely sighed - I had an unpleasant dream about my past. Years ago, I was- - She gulped, but couldn’t bring herself to continue, tears already running down her face.

- Oh, I am so sorry miss Lovely - Nila replied feeling guilty for making the old lady reminisce such a thing.- I didn't know.

- It's not your fault, it's now in the past anyway. -The elderly woman said forcing a smile to lighten up the mood.

 They sat in silence before, a knock at the front door was heard. Nila left to check who it was and Lovely stood up to get changed. A few minutes later she entered the living room and saw someone familiar sitting on the couch. The stranger glimpsed at her, noticing someone walk in, and stood up excitedly after realizing who it was:

-Lovely! Long time no see! How you been!?

-Tylor is that you?- Lovely said, in surprise.

-Yes, indeed. Is something the matter?

-Well, you look older.- Lovely said with a mocking tone.

-I could say the same to you.

Tylor used to play the bass guitar in Lovely’s band, called Moon. His signature move was the slap and a killer smile. However, the band did not last long, and they split with everyone going their merry way. He later became a successful businessman by selling his bass solo.

-I have not seen the whole town yet, maybe you could show me around? - Tylor asked as he had only arrived the day before.

-Sorry, I cannot at the moment. I have duties to tackle. - Lovely said, already drained by the idea of working.

- Oh! I can help you out and in return, you could show me around. - Tylor suggested enthusiastically.

The duties involved collecting apples and mushrooms from the forest nearby. While they were on the way, Lovely pulled out her photo album, which she had brought along, and recalled the fun memories they had while the band hadn’t yet disbanded.

-Hey, I remember that! - Tylor exclaimed, pointing at a photograph - This was our first ever performance. I remember sliding to the front of the stage on my knees to look cool and fell off!- Tylor chuckled -You guys were so mad, and later we all laughed about it.

Lovely chuckled, flipping through more pages until they opened the page where a letter was. Lovely's eyes dropped as her bright smile disappeared. Only with a glimpse of the page, Tylor knew it was about Ryan. Ryan was a former bandmate and Lovely's significant other who passed 42 years ago. Ryan wrote the letter and placed it in her memory book before passing away from cancer. Lovely never knew he was sick so it was devastating news to her and even now she cries remembering him.

 The two former bandmates walk along a path, collecting mushrooms when Lovely sees a large patch of daisies not far from where they stood so she decides to explore it. She walks over with Tylor still following, telling her about recent events in his life when they stumble upon an old fountain, which was still running. There was a bench right next to it, so they sat down for a break. As lovely places, the open photo album next to her on the bench, Ryan’s letter gets carried away by the wind and into the fountain. Tylor noticing this exclaims:

-The letter! Lovely quick take it out!

Lovely instantly turns around and sees what he had been shouting about and reaches in. Tylor also trying to retrieve the letter, tries to grab it but they both fall in.

Lovely breaking the water surface takes a deep breath but the letter was nowhere to be found. She shouts at Tylor to see if he got it but instead sees a much younger version of him. He was getting out, his clothing all wet turns to her, and is in complete awe. She has long brown locks, clear pale skin, and much taller than she used to be. The same could be said for him. He has better posture, a skinnier face, and mid-length black hair. 

-What happened to you? -Lovely says in surprise.

-What? Are we young again? - Tylor cries, touching his clear and unwrinkled face.

-Is this a dream? -The brunette questions, looking at her friend.

-I don’t know but we have to head back - He replies.

They both walk the usual route, but upon seeing the town their jaws drop. All of the new shops, roads, and buildings aren’t there. They kept looking around the town when they see a young and a very much alive Ryan walking towards them. He still had his curly blond hair and mesmerizing green eyes. Lovely couldn’t keep her emotion to herself so she ran at him and hugged him to make sure.

-You’re here!? - She exclaimed, in happiness and confusion.

-Of course, I am. We were supposed to meet here. -Ryan says cluelessly while returning the hug.

-This can’t be real - Tylor says, rubbing his eyes. Ryan looking concerned at him.

- Why is it a surprise to you guys, was I supposed to be assassinated or something? - The blond jokes, but soon realized the others found it in poor taste so he laughed it off.

The bassist took Lovely by her arm and dragged her back to the fountain and Ryan followed in confusion. When they got to where the fountain was supposed to be they only saw the bench and Tylor noticed their clothes were no longer wet.

-What is this? Where’s the fountain? - He said in shock, looking over to the couple. Lovely had an ill face but didn’t let her boyfriend see it to avoid his concern.

-What do you mean? There was never a fountain here -Ryan explained still not understanding their weird behavior.

-We should get back. By the way, what day is it today?- The girl said breaking the silence.

-It’s October 2nd, why? 

- 1976? - Tylor continued

- Um, yes. Are you guys feeling okay?- The boyfriend asks and remembers - Oh also I haven’t told you this yesterday but I got us a gig at Jerico’s. And we’re performing tonight!

-That’s awesome! - Lovely says in an excited voice.

Later that night after the performance Ryan and Lovely shared an intimate moment backstage, where he told her just how much he loved her and how much he wanted to live long enough to get old together. At that moment she realized how he was hinting at his sickness and she never bothered to give his words too much thought.

*-Ryan, I love you, no matter what happens in the future. - Lovely said holding back her tears as they embrace in a hug.*

 The morning after she receives a call from Ryan’s mother telling her he passed away. She was so devastated at the news, even though she knew he would die that night. Her heart ached but she remembered the photo album and how he was supposed to slip the letter in. She rushed to her bookshelf and went through it, in hopes it was already there but she couldn’t find it. No matter how many times she checked, it wasn’t there. Out of the worry that she had done something different for history to go wrong she called Tylor and explained her frustration. He invited her over and they talked.

-It can’t be right! The letter must have been there - Lovely cried.

-Calm down, we’ll figure this out - Tylor said, reassuring her.

-The letter is real right? I had it for so many years it has to be. You saw it too right?-She exclaimed waiting for an answer, to make sure she wasn’t imagining all of this. 

-Yes, It did exist - The bassist said, not being able to push out another word

-Are we in an alternate universe where he decided not to write the letter?-She questioned, to a point where she was driving herself insane.

-Lovely stop - He paused- I wrote the letter

-What? No, but I was sure it was Ryan. - She said with a sour expression - Why would you do that to me, lie for all these years? I thought you cared about me!

-I do and that’s why I wrote it. When I found out how much and how hard you’ve been grieving over him. It broke my heart. I was sad that he couldn’t say goodbye to you. So I dropped it off in your photo album while I was visiting a few days after. I wrote it so you wouldn’t think he didn’t love you -He said desperately trying to explain myself. 

-He didn’t love me? - She whispered through the tears, with her lips trembling.

-What? That’s not what I said - He said, shaking his head.

-Yes it is! You said, “So you wouldn’t think he didn’t love you”!- She shouted, her face turning red.

-I didn’t mean it like that! You know he loved you. He said “I love you” to you every day, every chance he got! -He barked not being able to keep his temper.

Lovely stood up and left without a word and Tylor was left, regretting telling her about the letter. Now he had to prove to her that Ryan really did love her.

Two days later Ryan’s mother invites Tylor to their house for dinner because she knew he was one of Ryan’s best friends and that his death might have affected them in a bad way. After his arrival, he roams around the house looking for a bathroom and sees an office room. He walks in and sees a lone desk and chair.  He sits down on the office chair and looks around his table. He notices a drawer and opens it out of curiosity. It had a box inside it. Just as he does so Ryan’s mother walks in and Tylor jumps up from the chair.

-Oh, I knew you’d get lost - She says -The bathroom is actually that way -She points in a different direction.

-Thank you, I was just looking at this - Tylor says pulling the box out of the drawer

- I didn’t know Ryan was going to propose so soon. Did he tell you about the ring?- She asked, the smile never leaving her face.

-The ring?-He says in confusion but soon realizes she’s talking about an engagement one- Ah yes he did, he wanted to propose to Lovely, right? -He said in hopes that it was actually for Lovely and that he didn’t have a secret mistress who he loved more.

-Yes, what an amazing girl she is - She begins before she hears the kitchen timer ring- Ooh, sounds like dinner’s ready! Don’t forget to wash your hands- She continues and leaves.

Now that Tylor had sufficient evidence to prove to Lovely that Ryan truly loved her, he needed to get her to see it. He knew it was risky but he shoved the ring in his pocket anyway and went back to being a guest. After dinner, he came over to Lovely’s house and knocked on the door. She didn’t answer.

-Lovely, listen I know you can hear me. I have proof that he really loved you! - Tylor shouted loud enough for Lovely to hear him from her open window. She knew nothing could bring her mood back up but she decided to listen to him. She opened the door.

-What is it?- She said in a monotone voice.

-See this? It’s an engagement ring. He wanted to marry you - He said proudly.

-Why do you spend so much money on something you can’t fix! - She cried in disbelief, for him to go this far with a lie.

-I didn’t buy it. I found it at his house!- He exclaimed, trying to prove himself

-His mother is staying there, I visited her the other day. She would have told me! - She shouted.

-Fine just keep this, for me -He couldn’t do anything else so he gave up. 

He handed her the ring box and waited for her to open it when he realized he didn’t actually check if there was anything inside. Lovely looked at it and opened waiting to be disappointed. Much to her surprise, it was nothing she ever expected, it wasn’t even a ring. It was a small rose gold chain necklace, which she mentioned she liked when she and Ryan went window shopping once. Her face lost the heavy expression which she had been wearing during the whole ordeal. Tylor still couldn’t see what was in the box, so he assumed it was empty; he waited to be shouted at or have the door slam against his face, instead he felt Lovely hug him. She held onto him.

-I’m sorry -She whispered, as Tylor hugged her back, not saying a word. 

After letting go of each other, they walked back to the bench and sat down.

-I guess this is it -Lovely began- We relive our lives all over again.

-At least I know my Bass-solo is going to be a success -Tylor laughed and Lovely smiled to herself.

The sun was setting and they both sat in complete silence. Lovely looked down and noticed a small patch of daisies. She picked one up and rolled it’s stem with her fingers, inspecting it. “No matter how much I beat myself over him, he won’t come back. Learning to move on is part of growing. Instead of grieving over someone’s death, I shouldn't wait for mine. I should live my life to the fullest. That's what Ryan would have wanted for me. I should embrace and celebrate what others aren't fortunate enough to have for long ”.

[upstartpoodle]

Month of AUs Day 4 - Alien

So welcome to Day 4 (sort of) of the Month of AUs! This one’s a bit longer compared to the last one so I’m putting it under the cut.

*****

“Oh my God, what has my life become?,” Elizabeth Chynoweth, regular joe with a regular job who had managed to find herself stuck in a very irregular situation, muttered to herself as she stood at the kitchen sink, filling up the kettle with enough water for two. “This is mad. Bonkers. Insane. How on earth have I come to this?”

Of course, there was no real point in asking that question, for Elizabeth knew exactly how she had reached this--quite frankly--bizarre point in her life. It had all started when she was driving home along the creek, ready to spend a nice, relaxing evening indoors with a bottle of wine and a good book after a relatively normal, boring day at work. That was when the shooting star had fallen, so very close, almost sending her skidding off the road; when she had dared to step outside the confines of her car and clamber down into the crater to investigate. That was when she had seen it--not a shooting star but the broken and twisted remains of what must have once been a sleek black space-pod, with thick dark smoke billowing out of it, and the strange figure that had hauled himself out of the wreckage, bleeding dark blue, turning to her with luminous eyes as wide and as afraid as her own before he keeled over in a dead faint. And that was when she had realised that she couldn’t simply leave this injured man--injured alien, alien--out there alone and without aid. So it was then that she had called in a favour from a friend of hers, and before she knew it, she had been helping a surprisingly calm Dr Dwight Enys (really, he had made an impressive job of only mildly freaking out considering what she had been asking him to do) patch up an honest to God extraterrestrial in her front room.

“I’ve done all that I can for him, I think,” he had said, running a hand, stained with blue blood, through his auburn hair. “I don’t know how severe these injuries are for one of his...s-species,” he stumbled over word, the look on his face as baffled and as disbelieving of what he was seeing as Elizabeth was herself, “or how fast he’ll heal. Or even how he’d react to painkillers. I really have nothing to base this on at all. He may look...well...a little human, but he’s not-- I mean, blue blood. We can hardly take him to a hospital.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, staring down at the unconscious figure, laid out upon her sofa. He did look somewhat human--two arms, two legs, blond hair that was drying in soft curls now that they had managed to wash out the blood that had been sticking to it. Despite his humanoid shape, however, he had a number of features that were distinctly inhuman. It could be seen in his too white skin that didn’t quite match that of any human she had ever come across, in the slightly strange slant of his facial features, the pointed tips of his ears, the unnatural glow of his bright blue eyes that she had glimpsed for just a short moment at the crash site. Other than the colour of his blood, though, the most obvious indicator of his alienness were the peculiar markings he sported, like the pattern on a circuit board, which glowed the exact same colour as his irises. They covered the whole of the left side of his body, she had seen when they had had to cut away his ruined clothes--heavy, expensive robes adorned with elegant embroidery, now burnt and tattered and bloodied in a pile on the floor next to her feet--to gain access to his injuries, right from his ankle to his temple. Dwight had been quite fascinated by them, muttering under his breath about bioluminescence and other terms she couldn’t quite catch, but his patient’s condition had prevented him from dwelling on them. They were mostly covered now that they had put him in a pair of Francis’ pyjamas and an old dressing gown that he had left behind when he moved out, and a thick blanket to keep him warm and comfortable, but some were still visible along the left side of his neck and face, and on the back of his left hand where it rested, limp, across his stomach. By all rights, she thought, the mundane clothes should have made him look more ordinary, but if anything, he looked even more out of place now than he did before.

“You know, you’re going to have to keep him hidden, right?,” Dwight pressed when she made no reply. “There’s bound to be people out there who’d have bad intentions towards him if they find out about him. That could put a target on both your backs. And on mine.”

“I know” Elizabeth said. But even as she said it she could barely believe it, barely believe this was real and happening and that that was a real possibility--

“Do you?,” Dwight interrupted her downward spiral into complete and utter panic as he turned to face her, the expression on his kindly face very serious. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into? What we’re getting into?”

Elizabeth couldn’t quite contain a choked laugh that sounded more like a whimper.

“No, not at all.”

“Who would, I suppose?,” admitted Dwight with a sigh. “But it’s too late to turn back now.”

And that, she reflected, was how she had ended up with an alien man, bandaged and wrapped in her ex-boyfriend’s dressing gown, curled up on her sofa in the adjourning room, watching a repeat of one of David Attenborough’s documentaries with an intense fascination which she knew couldn’t have translated entirely into understanding, given that his command of the English language currently consisted of a small list of words that he had picked up over the past few days, and of her name. She had managed to teach it to him a little while after he first woke up, in an attempt which her brain kept comparing, much to her chagrin, to that one scene from Tarzan. Unfortunately, his attempts to teach her his had been less successful, as his name consisted of a long string of sounds which he had rattled off with ease, but which she suspected human vocal chords had not exactly been designed to replicate.

Honestly, the whole thing’s mad, she observed to herself once again as she put the kettle to boil. Completely and utterly mad. But it’s just like Dwight said--there’s no going back now. I decided to help him that day and that’s what I’ll do, even if it is just giving him somewhere to stay whilst he heals up. With that in mind, she reached out, grabbed the box of teabags from its place on the counter, and headed out into the living room, where her peculiar guest lay, completely engrossed in the sight of a thorny devil searching for water on the TV, a small frown upon his face as he followed the movements on the screen with his gaze.

“George.” She called him by the name she had taken to using for him--it was about as close as she could get to the first syllable of his ridiculously long name (the others, sadly, still completely eluded her). He glanced up at her, tilting his head to one side in a manner reminiscent of a quizzical owl, in a way that told her that though he understood that she was referring to him, he thought her very odd for not simply calling him by his proper name. “Would you like some tea?”

She held up a teabag from the box to illustrate her point--though he may not understand all he words, she knew that would convey to him the general meaning of wat she was asking him. He perked up immediately upon seeing the box. Though he had been deeply suspicious of it at first, he had quickly developed a liking for the drink.

“Please.” This was one of the few English--or indeed Earth--words that he knew. Elizabeth smiled at him before heading back into the kitchen, box in hand. Well, she thought wryly, if she were going to end up harbouring an alien in her home, at least she had had the good sense to choose a polite one.

A few minutes later, she returned to the living room with two steaming mugs of tea in each hand, receiving a quiet “thank you” from her guest as she placed one on the table beside him to cool down. Then, carefully, so as not to jostle him, she sat down on the edge of the sofa and, taking a small sip of her own tea, reached for her tablet, opening up the news.

“What the--?,” Elizabeth stared openly at the headline which greeted her-- “EXPERTS DENOUNCE LEAKED IMAGE OF POSSIBLE STARSHIP WRECKAGE AS HOAX.” Beside it was a faint, fuzzy picture of something huge and bulky, it’s outline too precise and straight to be an asteroid, with the exception of the numerous places where the...whatever it was...appeared to have sustained significant damage, specks of what looked like shrapnel floating around the periphery of the image, as if they had been blasted off the main structure by some massive explosion. She stared at it, clicking on the article and skimming through it’s contents at lightning speed. “‘Experts have spoken out over claims that the viral photo of what appears to be the remains of a starship proves the existence of life on other planets... The photo first emerged...Tuesday...on the Twitter account of... Claims of a NASA source...unsubstantiated and unlikely...’ Oh my God, what--?”

“El-iza-beth.”

That immediately caught her attention, drawing her away from the article and back towards her alien guest. He always said her name in that way--enunciating every syllable, so careful to get it right that it made her ashamed that she had not yet managed to afford him the same courtesy--but there was something very serious, agitated in his tone that made her sit up and take notice, suddenly uneasy. He was staring at the picture of the wreckage with an even greater intensity than he had afforded to David Attenborough, his tea quite forgotten. Then, he raised his good hand--the left one, with the markings; the other was still bound up in a sling, not yet healed from his crash--and pointed towards the image.

“Mine” he said.

“Yours?,” she asked. “This...this is your ship?”

“Yes. My...ship.” He tested the foreign word on his tongue, frowning at the awkwardness of it. 

His markings pulsed brighter and, all of a sudden, an image flickered to life between them. It didn’t startle Elizabeth as much as one might have expected--she had seen him do it several times already. The first time had been when she was trying to explain where in the universe they were with the aid of some diagrams from an encyclopaedia, only to leap back in shock when an intricate, three-dimensional picture of the solar system appeared in front of her (after the surprise had worn off, she had become sidetracked teaching him the names of the planets, with varying success). On a couple of other occasions, she had seen him summon up a screen which she had just about been able to gather was some kind of extraterrestrial equivalent of a Skype call. He was clearly out of range here, however, and, unable to connect for what she remembered as being the third time, he had let out a string of sharp, frustrated, impatient words in his own tongue, the bite of which somehow suggested to her that he was a man accustomed to being in control, and most likely (she recalled the fancy clothes he had worn when she first found him) one who was used to giving out orders and having them followed. He seemed to be drawing these...holograms, for want of a better word, from some kind of database, but she couldn’t see any object on him that he was using to do so. Indeed, the only connection between himself and the images, as far as she could tell, was his markings, which glowed bright whenever they appeared. It made Elizabeth wonder if they were not a result of biology, like Dwight had initially presumed, but of technology--an implant or something similar that allowed him to access and project the pictures --but how it worked, she hadn’t the faintest idea.

The image before her now was unmistakably of a starship--or at least the blueprint of one. Despite the haziness of the picture accompanying the news article, she recognised the outline of it. The only difference was that this one was whole, undamaged. Swallowing, she stared back down at the image on her tablet, vicious holes blasted in its hull, ripped savagely apart.

“Oh God, what happened to it?,” she gasped. “What happened to you?”

He made a frustrated noise at that, the image flickering away into nothingness as abruptly as it had appeared. She knew why--he hadn’t the words to answer her, to express to her how he had come to be here in a way which she could understand. And would he even want to talk about it if he had?, she wondered. She was still almost a complete stranger to him, after all, even if she had helped him. And so is he to you, she reminded herself, swallowing convulsively.

“Where are you from?,” she asked instead. It was a question she had asked before, when he first woke up, but he hadn’t understood enough to answer then. Now, however, with the image of that wrecked ship--his ship--staring her in the face, she burnt to know more than ever. “I am from Earth, here,” she added, placing a hand on her chest, as he regarded her quizzically, not sure if he understood. “Where are you...?”

She trailed off as understanding flitted across his features, and an image suddenly appeared between them once more. It was the picture of the solar system. There were little rows of figures next to the planets now, she noticed, that had not been there before. Letters. Names. They were the planet’s names, she realised, the ones that she had taught him, recorded in his own alphabet beside each one.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the third planet away from the sun. “This...Earth.”

“Yes, but--”

She wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to communicate to her, but she cut herself off as the image changed. It wasn’t the solar system anymore, but galaxies. A great, whirling, swirling myriad of galaxies, a map of the stars.

“You...Earth...are here,” he continued, pointing to a galaxy which she supposed must be the Milky Way on the far edges of the map. “I...,” he turned towards a much larger galaxy near the top of the image, “here.”

“I--” Elizabeth stared at the two galaxies--at the distance between them--with wide eyes. “But I-- Oh God, that’s so far! It’s so far!”

And it was. It was the kind of distance that, even with her inexpert eye, she knew that human technology would not have the slightest hope of traversing within a lifetime. Once again, she was struck by just how foreign and alien and-and downright impossible her unexpected houseguest was, but far more than that, she couldn't help but wonder over what hope he had of finding away to return there, to that far away galaxy. Would he ever be able to get back, without his ship, or a way to communicate with his people, whoever they were? She would be of no use to him in that regard after all--not with her boring office job and her relevant qualifications being a grand total of a GCSE in Physics, the content of which she had promptly forgotten the moment she stepped out of the final exam.

He must have seen something of her thoughts in his face, as, with an unhappy downturn of his lips, the image flickered and changed, no longer showing that map of galaxies, but an unfamiliar sun, orbited by unfamiliar planets. Slowly, he pointed towards the fourth planet from its star, large and surrounded by several moons.

“Home,” he said; the light from the projection reflected in his glowing eyes, sad, resigned. “My home.”

Elizabeth stared at the little planet circling about its sun, not quite able to face the look in his eyes, too raw and painful. It hovered there for a few seconds, before it, too, vanished, like the picture of the ship before it, and he turned away so that all she could see was the outline of his patrician profile, markings dulled to their usual faint glow. His eyes were fixed on the carpet, jaw clenched tight, as if to do otherwise would be to let loose a torrent of emotion he was not yet ready to share with a stranger. Elizabeth let out a quiet breath. What must it be like for him, she wondered, to be stranded on a strange planet amongst strange people, with only documentaries in a language he could barely speak and the realisation that he had no way home to occupy him? Lonely, she thought it must be. Terribly lonely, and frightening, for all that he tried to hide it.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out carefully to take his uninjured hand in both of her own. He started at the unexpected touch, turning back to her with wide eyes, but he didn’t pull away from her. “Ssh, it’s alright. I know you must miss your home, but you can stay here as long as you need. You’re not alone--I’m here to help you, I promise.”

He tilted his head to the side at her words, frowning, and she realised with a sigh of frustration that he probably understood barely any of what she had just said. She was just about to try and rephrase it in a way that he could gauge the meaning of, however, when he spoke up, quiet and uncertain.

“Stay...here? With you?” Though his tone was guarded, and he was still tense beneath her hands, there was a look of hope in his eyes that was too real, too genuine to be hidden behind his caution. Elizabeth smiled at him encouragingly.

“Yes, with me, for as long as you need,” she said. “And I promise you, everything will be alright. I’ll make sure of it.”

[yeswritingsandwritings]

COVID Diaries; Pennies

It is March 2020 and I’ve channeled the spirit of Paul Revere. As Los Angeles erupts into rioting and mass fentanyl suicide, I dive headfirst into the cabin of the Mazda, and gun the packed ship upwards along the vacant I5 corridor. Every smouldering city under Gavin Newsom looks further gone than the last. The navigation takes me on some perverse fantasy detour thru post-apocalyptic San Francisco. It’s been a long time coming but now it’s solidified. The mayor and her delegates have chomped their cyanide pills and now the streets and bridges offer rotting cars beside silent, beautiful Victorian manors. Still in full color, the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, gleaming indifferently. I am nervous about San Franscisco County. The shelter in place order says no one shall be out on the street without proper reason. And, proper reason or not, I have a pharmacy of drugs in the trunk of my car. Will it be enough to wait out the pandemic in my mother’s house? Enough to keep me sane tucked in the basement of the compound on Cougar Mountain, Issaquah, Washington, for GodKnowsHowLong? My very own Bavarian Alps.

For years in LA I have lived for high speed and hard sex in a blackout frenzy which no young American could denigrate without looking like a nerd. In our culture of excess I sought the most insane, unexplored corridors. Chavionistic romps through the bitter forests of lust, contamination, too-young suicide, too-good blowjobs that leave explosions on this cast of characters flown from every corner of the globe, all with the same indelible fever. I come to now, in this chaotic month handed down by God, March 2020, and I’m withdrawing from all of it in the penthouse on the side of the mountain.

In this moment the fantasy is fading fast, like being jolted from a wet dream by a home invasion. For a lot of people the American dream was already a flickering ember in the distance, a relic of some stupid pilgrimgrage for egoic glory, a blind propaganda puzzle piece with no jigsaw to belong to. But I had formed my own relationship with the concept, and, until now, had believed wholeheartedly in the myth in America; or at least that myth’s capacity to spur significant action, which could abolish hunger and pain, mistreatment and misunderstanding, which could deliver us from evil and unto the kingdom of heaven.

I am not, to many of her 300 million pairs of eyes, a portrait of traditional American success. I am the starving artist archetype. I’ve lived in abandoned buildings and shot cocaine into my veins in the speeding bathroom of many an Amtrak carriage. These may be my most definitive traits, save for the music I somehow manage to draw out of all of this. Albums worth of potential answers to the impossible questions. Sometimes I think I’ve reached the peak, with the LSD and the naked festival girls. I am 26 years old and feel incompetent. I go to pay a traffic ticket or am electric bill and find myself paralyzed at the entrance to the website. In a moment of otherworldly strength I call the bank and my debit card has been cancelled. I stare at the parking ticket in my pod, which has been rented from a company called Up(Start), and is arranged in a row with twenty others. At least I’ve made it to Los Angeles.

Up(Start) is a strange place. I find most people don’t last very long in this community. They leave back to their hometowns or find apartments. The ones who stay haunt this place like ghosts, with no discernible goals and mysterious incomes. I’ve learned not to ask how these life-longers pay the rent. The answer is not translatable.

Willow is one of these life-longers. She always talks about moving out; sometimes to an apartment in LA, most recently about some nebulous palace in France. She says her grandmother died and left her everything. She shows me a suitcase full of watches and rings that still can’t fully convince me of her story. She drinks vodka when she wakes up and convinces me to fuck her when Jesse leaves us in his room alone.

Jesse found his way out to a beautiful house in Silver Lake. He had been at Up(Start) for a year before that. He is the nicest guy I know, offering the coat off his back for nothing but a swig of your vodka in return.

I left these characters behind, keeping a steady 65 on the interstate and stopping only to black out in a hotel room in Redding, CA. Summer, inspirational barista and blowjob queen, dared me to stop and see her in Portland, but my body was crawling from scabies from Lucy, (who was also in Portland and, I would later learn, infected with the virus) and I sped right through.

My younger brother Jon was at the house and had been awaiting my arrival. I instantly understood why. My mother had become a figurehead for the national panic, and shoulder-hugged me with her mask on. She is, as we speak, sterilizing the place.

I’ve gotten to spend a good amount of time with Jon, and am somewhat surprised to find that he faces the same existential torment as I do. This is not something we talk about, but I can feel it on him. He is super into Xanax, and orders pressed bars off the darknet. I share the drugs I’ve brought with him. Kratom, weed, and, —most enticing— Flubromazolam. I learn that he has been kicked out of UW on academic probation. I ask him about it in front of my mother and stepdad. With a casualness that shocks me he says he just didn’t care about any of his classes. But he’s got reaccepted to the school and he says he’s going to make it this time.

I show him how I order my drugs online. I show him the designer benzodiazepines on the clearnet, pennies per dose. We place an order for O-DSMT. It’s an insane solution to our problems, but I guarantee you it works.

I tell Jon about my life in LA with the stuff. Taking it and driving weed deliveries all day. I don’t tell him about the long nights with Lucy, telling her the love I feel from the opiate is sourced from her, then failing to get hard.

Jon, for his part, tells me about the peak of his Oxycontin habit, poppin 7 OC30’s a day with his buddies at Rolling Loud. I was just a few blocks away. I didn’t know he was in town.

We order the O-DSMT to his apartment in the U District, stopping to and snag it on our sole vacation to Dad’s for dinner. Two packages have been delivered. We have the save pavlov response. We carry the packages to his apartment on the top floor and split the bubble wrap with a butterfly knife. Out of a manilla envelope comes 100 green Xanax bars. From a bent UPS envelope comes a gram of O-DSMT and 250mg of 4-ACO-DMT, a bonus for me (Jon says he hates psychedelics).

We set to the scale and split the gram, dosing 50mg then and there to get through dinner. The next day he visits me in the basement, saying “Yo, this O-DSMT shit… it’s dope.”

I say “I’m with you.”

My days are spent deep in the dream flow, recording songs for a hopeful fourth album. The third one is still far from complete, but I can’t go back and meddle with those songs now. Wouldn’t dare touch their Los Angeles essence with the hand of the evergreen state. They will go to Rob and Twon and Andy as they are.

I’m back to guitars for the new album. Cardinal sin AC/DC type songs. I think it may be a double album, quarantine permitting. I want an exploratory, unstructured, throw paint at the wall and see what sticks, White album/Life of Pablo situation. I want solo piano pieces and Aphex Twin-esque 808 excursions. I want the label to release it on white vinyl with extensive liner notes. Indulgence. I want this album to be the one where I say “indulge me.”

If Rob is vehimently opposed to the idea I had the fantasy of making an easy album. Taking songs like Parade Owl, See You Tomorrow, Miss Can’t Sleep and putting out a whole album of them. Good rock music. Take a step back from the frontlines; the cutting edge. We’ll see what sticks to the wall after this quarantine is over.

Weeks drift by. There’s a trade route for all the beer that gets brought into the house. It goes from the garage fridge to the basement fridge to my eager hand, to my mouth, to my blood. Night by night the ritual recurs, til my mom takes out the downstairs trash and finds all the empties. She makes some subtle comment. I tell her to buy more White Claw.

Despite the drug flow my inspiration seems to be drying up. Rob took a listen to the twenty five songs I’d completed since arriving in Issaquah and said they sounded like Dogs. The old band. The old rock and roll band we’ve been trying to move away from. I was disappointed to hear him say it. I was disappointed he wasn’t excited about the songs. “Fuck it, should I scrap them all?” I asked myself. Then I started to look around the house and understand that if nothing came of these songs… I must be insane. I must be losing it. The stupid research chemical stimulants don’t help. I thought they would. Productivity and all… but I’m just jittery, texting strangers on Instagram for hours, all the while feeling like I should be doing something else. And the television is on in the background, and I told myself I was going to do so much to day. And I did it. And people on Instagram say “you seem busy.” They’ve always said I seem this and I seem that. I never agreed with any of it, but they probably know me better than I do. How could I see myself? I look for myself through a fog and it’s only a ripple of a shadow. A microcosm a million miles away through a hellscape with no up or down, no east or west. They say I’m social. They say I’m a socialite. Really I just get drunk and unleash all my nervous energy on the party or, nowadays, the Zoom meeting.

Today I drink Modello. Ma and Chuck went to the Seattle waterfront for a picnic or something. I didn’t get the details. But the sun should be going down now, and she’s texting me asking if I want to play a board game when they get back. I say yeah sure I do. My temper when I’m off these amphetamines analogues, though… I worry I’ll flip the Pictionary board. Slam dunk the wine glass onto the wood floor. Now the cliffhanger; will this Modello calm my nerves?

This morning I went with mom to buy plants for the garden. I thought we were going to get seeds but she wanted the already grown ones. She was ready to be angry. Nothing made her happy. We went to three different garden store. I think she got some tomatos. How the hell am I going to get out of this one? Feels like the walls are closing in. I feel like I’m in the freezer in the back of McDonalds. I feel so sad for her, but I also feel so sad for myself. I feel cut off. I feel short of breath. I feel terror. It is Friday, April 17, 2020. Dread, terror, paranoia… I’m sure it’s been felt a million times by a million people, but here’s my version of it. In this McMansion on the side of the mountain, feeling less like I have a mission than ever. Calling nobody. Freezing. Yeah I’m freezing.

My brother and I both have drugs to get through this crisis but I’m planning to get off them. I sold him half of my etizolam and half of another shipment of O-DSMT the other day. He wasn’t at all interested in the 2-FDCK, an analogue of the dissociative Ketamine. I am still not really sure what dissociatives do to consciousness. They can move you into states profound darkness. You feel like your life is a black and white film and it is raining outside. And it drips off the palm trees and you sit in traffic on the way back from the Boy’s and Girl’s Club, where the boys and girls wouldn’t listen, they’d just go off into their own worlds. I wonder how they’re all doing now, tucked into their parents houses in Calabasas.

Anyway, I said to Jon “I’m getting off the stuff.” And I intended to. This journal finds me at a crossroads between fantasy and reality. What is my life going to be for? Where do I cast this fishing pole? Well the pole’s been cast. It’s out there in the middle of the ocean. But at the same time it’s in my hand, in this very moment, and I can chose where to dip it. I’m not trying to catch a fish in this scenario, I just like the serenity of the bay.

The question on everyone’s mind is: “If not drugs, then what!?” That’s a great question and I’d be bullshitting if I said I could answer it. I don’t know what lies on the other side of this life. I want to find out. Do I truly? I have to truly. Love, sex, work, victory… I’ve seen all these things before. And I keep turning to these substances. They fill up my days and my hours and all the music is informed by them. They move my hands to play the guitar and my voice is scratchy when it comes out. I’ve formed an identity around these drugs to a certain extent. That idea of me has to die. It does. I’ll have to mourn it. I’ll have to mourn a lot. I guess I don’t know what to be afraid of. I know a lot of stuff is going to come up through this process. The drugs numb it all out. People say that but it’s really really true. Bad news doesn’t don’t hit you as hard. Most things don’t hit you at all. You’re in your world. You’re off in a cloud. You’re unaware of the world around you. You’re afraid to engage. Why?

It’s easier not to ask why. It’s easier to get the immediate relief of a squirt of etizolam tincture. Or a gross tossing of O-DSMT powder into your mouth and a quick washdown with water. In this way you don’t have to answer any questions. In this way nothing hits you. And guess what else? All your heroes did the same thing.

But a lot of them died doing it. And you don’t want to die. You really really don’t want to die. You want to live a long life, with kids and grandkids, and see what happens to America and what music turns into. You don’t want to die, but what do you have to live for? You know you can make things up. Everyone’s always making shit up. All of this is made up. The culture, the value of a dollar, the value of a Benz. We just decide on it. And that takes a lot. But you know what takes a lot less? Deciding how you want to react to each moment. This one and this one and this one. Do you know what I mean? They say a lot of stuff about the world. The world’s fucked. They say the world’s burning to the ground. They say we can’t leave our houses. They say America won’t be a super power by the end of all of this. But they’re making shit up. And I’m making shit up too. I’m whipping up like a chef. Throwing dishes out from the kitchen, but the dishes are words and actions and the kitchen is my mind. What kind of food am I throwing out? What kind of food am I serving the world? Let me serve love and hope. But for that to happen, let me cultivate it in myself first. Let me nurture it like a child. Let me see it sober. Let me take the steps in the right direction. It’s simple. It’s simpler than you think it is. What are you going to do right now, after reading this? Or while reading this? How are you going to face the world?

Jon told me he got into Xanax from the Famous Dex song “Japan.”

“Baby girl, what you doing, where your man? I just popped a xan, fifty thousand in Japan”

He told me his friends heard the song and picked up some Xanax because of it. They liked it and reached out to him “You’ve got to try this,” they said. My little brother, in the throes of this batshit demon force that will bury him. It might bury me too. The jury’s still out. Mom, just let me withdraw in peace. She brings down a space heater. I grow to love it. I lay down on the wood floor that the spiders sometimes dash across. The space heater comes close to burning me, but I’m ok. I stand up, dizzy from all I’ve done to try to combat the withdrawls. Way too much etizolam, way to much kratom, getting to the point of way too much weed and alcohol. But hopefully it’ll all be over soon, and I can call my friends in peace and not want to slam down the phone whenever there is the tiny threat of silence, or whenever I speak, or whenever they speak. I can’t any of it sober, that’s what I think. Life is hard sober; it’s a breeze when you’re floating thru it. A good dream. So why get sober? They say it’ll kill me. Well, I said that. In this very same paragraph. And maybe it will. But when you’re withdrawing like this… all you want is a moment of peace.

Oh God, at dinner tonight I started to go off about my own mental state to the family. I should have known it was a big mistaken, but on my way home from Doordashing a rainy Issaquah I stopped at QFC and got a bottle of True Eagle American Spirits, Kentucky manufactured vodka. And, helping myself to serving of kimchi,  I said to them “I think I’m losing it.” And the conversation spiraled until my mother asked me “Are you suicidal?” And “Are you struggling with drugs?” Jon, between us, must have felt betrayed, but I just wanted to feel understood. I feel Chuck does not want to understand. I understand what he’s sacrificed for the life he has, but what value does that life has to him? He has a tumor in his jawbone, and it’s eating away at him, and no one can do anything. And they can’t get out to the specialists on the East Coast, and they won’t do the invasive surgery. He’s too busy. I know, in some capacity, he understands. Because he blows these things off like they don’t matter at all, when anyday he could have a stroke like Grandma had, fall to the floor of the kitchen while dishing up his kimchi, or pulling a slice of pizza out of the carton. I feel the same way. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I know that I am mentally unwell. And I avoid the questions about my drug use and about my suicidality. I miss girls, ma. I miss pussy and parties and not giving a fuck. The way I don’t give a fuck now is in these terrifying sound collages drafted on the latest of nights, in the deep dark depths of quaratine. What was I saying in the last one? Something about how I didn’t wanna kill the crabs on the beach on Whidbey Island as a kid. Holy shit I’m losing my mind. But it’s all fine, isn’t it? As long as the music comes out fine.

What could I possibly do to get healthy? I feel so far off the deep end. You have no idea; I feel like crying. My best friend, living with the girl I thought I could always go back to. We don’t talk. I mix these ketamine analogues in with that cheap cheap vodka (plus etizolam) and cry tears onto this plastic table. It’s pointless to keep up the tinder courtships. I feel like this will never end. And it started with such a bang. I was such a part of history. Now I’m a nobody; I’m a junkie, holding on by the thinnest thread. No energy to pray. I feel like Cobain, and I know so many people do… but I really do. I can only imagine. But I’m only listening to Mingus, Lana Del Rey and Radiohead (Kid A thru Hail to The Thief).

Should I throw weed in the mix? Lord knows I have enough of it. It’s my number one priority. I’ve made enough songs now that we could workshop what I’ve come up with years. What else is there to do? Mingus ripped the piano strings out of some pianist’s instrument in front of a live audience, then stormed off the stage. Where the fuck is that in my life? I’m in front of the computer, weeping because America has come to a close. You know they sent jazz to the Soviet Union as a WEAPON? A weapon of freedom and democracy and individualism. What the fuck happened? It all makes me want to cry. It’s all too much; this world. These people I’ve known and loved and lost. This music I’ve made that they promise me will be something, but I don’t know if I believe them. I don’t know if I want anything to do with this life. I can’t engage with my culture anymore… my history. I feel like I’m not a part of it. I feel so disconnected. Who’s rippin the strings out of MY piano? Or who’s piano am I ripping the strings out of? We’ve lost so much… I mean… I’ll do my best to work with what we still have, but we’ve been so fractured. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was the end. Of America. Of our culture. Of our music and our hustle and bustle and industry and lover’s lanes and rites of passage. I feel like I’m mourning it now. Mourning my culture. Maybe mourning the illusion that was sold to us. Believe me, I was first in line to buy. That’s why it destroys me so deeply to see it collapse.

I guess we’re all one people. I’m crying writing this. Weeping, weeping, weeping. Grieving. You know what grieving is. I remember what’s-her-name in the pool. We went to every hot tub, each a different temperature, in the Desert Hot Springs Resort. Then Lucy’s friend’s new boyfriend told us Bernie Sanders had stayed there when he had visited DHS. I laughed so hard. Lucy ordered me another drink. She didn’t mind the cost. She liked me to be on her level. And I didn’t mind. I was proud to sip. We went back to the hotel and did god knows what. Feels a million lifetimes away.

This was back when anything could happen. When America was a blank slate and no one could predict anything. When you could go outside and say “What the fuck is up?” and get in adventures. I mourn the loss of that. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe that’s still there. But I’ve emotionally severed my ties to it. And I wish I didn’t. Because I love it. I love it so much. It’s not a myth. I swear to god it’s not a myrh. It was a reality… until all this happened. You have no idea. I mean, if you’re reading this and weren’t around before. You have no idea. I mean… I don’t know what things are going to be like after this. But not the same. There’s no way they could be the same.

You know I hope I get this shit. I hope I contract COVID-19. Lay in this guest bedroom bed with the scabies I may or may not have gotten from Upstart Creative Living… and which wouldn’t die off. I hope I can’t breathe. I hope I’m immune. I want to walk the world. Maybe I should go out, get it, isolate, heal, be immune… if that’s even possible. At this point we don’t even know if immunity is a thing that happens with COVID. But even if I could walk the earth without fear of it… everyone else is cowering, and they pull away from, seeing I’m not wearing a mask or gloves, or even if I am… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would all end this way. I would have done so much more. Focused so much more on each kiss. Even every note. I did my best, I guess. It feels like it’s all coming to an end. It’s Thursday, April 23, but that doesn’t mean anything. You have to understand how little dates mean in this time. It’s like we’re living in one of those time capsules buried beneath the walkway at WWU. Stagnant… yeah we write songs and poems and do our work and keep the economy from faltering completely… but there’s a different angle to look at it all now. The world is over. I mean, aha, to use the words of Rem… “It’s the End of the World As We Know It.” Key words: “As we know it.” I had no idea this would happen in my lifetime… I couldn’t even conceive it. If you would have told me this would have happened six months ago I wouldn’t have believed it. America seemed so stable. And now it feels like it’s in shambles. It really did feel stable. You may think I’m insane for saying America in September, 2019 seemed stable… but shit, we were free. And we were headed where we were headed. This throws a wrench in all of this. And it could be the end. And I thought this was the greatest country on earth. Happiness is a buttery, try to catch it like every night.

I’ve been fascinated in American history since I could understand it. Most specifically, I’ve been fascinated about how history is still happening. The closer you get you the current day, the harder it is to get a straight story. FDR did what he did and we won. That’s fact. That’s cement. Nixon? Everyone agrees he was a crook. But what about Reagan? What about Bush Sr? What about Clinton? The closer you get to the modern day, the more difficult it becomes to discern what is real and what is fake.

[confrontingbabble-on]

“Money, money money...must be funny...in a religious, hypocritical, devoid of the power of god, world...”

 A female religious relative asked me the other day...”Having left the church some time ago, why do you still care what the church does? The only thing that makes any sense to me, is that you are making money from this. Are you?”

I was struck by the insane hypocrisy and willful blindness...and the intellectual dishonesty...of that religious person’s insane question. A blind believer is too pathetic to ask their own religious leaders just how much money they take from religion...god’s “free” gift..., or ask for a full list of all the associated benefits they get from being a religious leader...or accuse them that they must only be into god for the money...!

Fleecing the religious flock goes right back to the very point the religious had, to form and farm a religious flock...and was the first thing that Paul did, when he converted bible Jesus’ god personal empowerment, personal activism, personal sacrifice and martyrdom message...into churchianity...followers attending pointless meetings, sitting on their ass, fleecing others and being fleeced...and being lulled to sleep as they get the same selected bedtime stories read to them...again and again and again...

Paul had glibly boasted to his fellow churchians...”And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus...” Phil 4:19...and then, instead, made it a central part of his ministry...to collect cash from his church followers...for some unobservable pupose, a long way away from the donators*...

...fleecing, he claimed, he was prepared to die for**...

We can reconstruct Paul’s cash collection religious evolution as follows:

Paul’s tent making work was hard and tedious work

so he started churches, gatherings of sheep to fleece

and immediately hit up his followers for cash

to spend on things they could not observe or verify

because he did not spend the cash collected among the poor where the money was collected, (where it could easily be verified that it was spent for that purpose, in total)...but rather, hundreds of miles away, where no one could investigate the discrepancy between what was collected, and what was spent on the poor...!

Using the cash business formula...$X collected...minus travel expenses... meals with friends... alcohol...ships and other vehicles/donkeys etc...donkey upkeep...accommodation along the way...gifts for various lady companions along the way...a rest-up at a resort...a convention or two...new footware...new clothing...hiring people to count the cash...cash protection services along the way...property acquisition - for new churches...putting aside money for a rainy day = $Y (a couple of bucks left over for some distant “poor”/relatives/friends etc)

Consider...

“...the practice of collecting money at Christian worship services is almost as old as Christianity itself. Within a few decades of Jesus' death, the apostle Paul initiated a collection of money from communities he visited to support “impoverished Christians” in Jerusalem...!

Paul attached great significance to this project; so important was the collection to him that he even risked alienating those churches that he had founded in order to complete it...!

But, considering how vital the project was for Paul, it is remarkable that he mentions the collection directly in only a few places, primarily in the Corinthian correspondence (1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8:1–9:15; cf. Gal 2:10; Rom 15:25–31).

Furthermore, the book of Acts nowhere unambiguously refers to it, although a few passages may point to it indirectly (Acts 11:27–30; 24:17)1.

Thus, due to the paucity of evidence provided by the New Testament, a detailed picture of the collection is beyond our grasp (no audit trail...!).

We can, however, sketch the broad outlines of the project with some confidence.  The beginnings of the collection go back to a meeting held between Paul, Barnabas, and the leaders of the Jerusalem church. The meeting took place in Jerusalem in the mid–first century (ca. 48 CE). Prior to the meeting, Paul and Barnabas had been working in the area of Antioch and they journeyed to Jerusalem as representatives of the Antiochene church. Accounts appear in Gal 2:1–10 and Acts 15:1–29. Since the two accounts do not match precisely...

The meeting in Jerusalem occurred due to a debate over the status of non–Jews in the Antioch church. Some believed that non–Jews1 should be welcomed into the church only if they converted to Judaism; others, however, were content to allow them to be incorporated into the community as non–Jews.  In order to settle the matter, Paul and Barnabas traveled to Jerusalem to consult with the leaders of that church. Those leaders, described by Paul with the honorific title "Pillars" (Gal 2:9), consisted of Peter, a disciple of Jesus; James, Jesus's brother; and John, probably John, the son of Zebedee, another of Jesus's followers.

According to Paul's account of the meeting, the Pillars essentially agreed with Paul that non–Jews could remain as such when they joined the church; in Paul's words, the Jerusalem leaders "added nothing" to his gospel message (Gal 2:6). ...In effect, the problem of Torah–observant Jews and non–Jews in the same movement was solved by splitting the community of believers into two camps, one Jewish and the other not. The second condition is expressed in the final verse describing the meeting: "[The Pillars] asked only one thing, that we remember the poor (pay off the Jerusalem church, to buy the gentile franchise...!), which was actually what I was eager to do" (Gal 2:10). It is broadly agreed that Paul's phrase "remember the poor" refers to a one–time collection of money raised among the believers in Antioch to be given to "the poor" in Jerusalem3.  ...it has been suggested that the label "poor" may have been an honorific title for the members of the church in Jerusalem...!

After Paul's confrontation with Peter, the latter likely viewed him as a liability, an uncontrolled and uncontrollable renegade who could not be trusted to put the interests of the gospel before his own.

While the demise of the Jerusalem agreement likely signaled the end of the collection at least from the standpoint of the Jerusalem church, Paul's collection efforts did not come to an end8.  Evidence from his letters–in particular, the Corinthian correspondence—suggests that after he left Antioch, the collection took on more significance in his eyes. But the collection project also changed9.  For Paul, the effort no longer represented the simple transfer of money from the Antioch community to Jerusalem. Instead, Paul attempted to involve all of the non–Jewish churches that he founded in the effort10. He believed that non–Jewish believers in those churches owed the Jews a debt of gratitude. In his words: "Indeed [the non–Jews] owe it to [the members of the Jewish church in Jerusalem]; for if the Gentiles have come to share in their spiritual blessings, they ought also to be of service to them in material things" (Rom 15:27).

Unfortunately the progress of the collection in Paul's churches prior to the Corinthian correspondence is unclear. Paul makes no mention of it in 1 Thessalonians, his earliest extent letter, although in other letters he tells of a collection in Macedonia–a collection that no doubt included the Thessalonian church (2 Cor 8:1–5; 2 Cor 9:2; Rom 15:16, 26). We do know that Paul's efforts in Macedonia were ultimately successful and, as he tells us in 2 Corinthians, they exceeded his expectations (2 Cor 8:5).

Curiously, Paul makes no mention of a collection among the Galatian churches in his letter to them, despite his reference to the collection's origin at the Jerusalem meeting earlier in that same letter (Gal 2:10). He does mention in 1 Corinthians that he had given instructions for a Galatian collection (1 Cor 16:1), but those instructions appeared either in a letter that no longer exists or they were delivered orally. While we cannot be sure of the results of Paul's efforts to collect money in Galatia, it is probable that the Galatians ultimately failed to contribute11.  In all likelihood, the Judaizing conflict in Galatia took its toll on Paul's relationship with those churches and consequently those communities withdrew their support for the project12.

We learn about the start of the collection effort in another of Paul's communities, in Corinth, at the end of 1 Corinthians (1 Cor 16:1–4). There Paul instructs the community–most of whom must have had little money to spare—to set aside for the project whatever money they could afford on a weekly basis. In this way, they would be able to raise more money than by relying on a one–time collection, an option rejected by the apostle (1 Cor 16:2).

Further information about the collection in Corinth appears in several places in 2 Corinthians. That document attests to the difficulty that Paul had in his collection efforts. We learn, for example, that the Corinthian collection proceeded by fits and starts; at one point, it seems to have been put on hold13.  Unfortunately, discerning the progress of the Corinthian collection is complicated by the likelihood that 2 Corinthians is made up of more than one letter14.However, one thing that seems clear in 2 Corinthians is that the collection effort in Corinth raised doubts about Paul's integrity among some members of that community.

In several places, we see evidence that a number of Corinthians believed that the apostle was using the collection as a pretext to steal their hard–earned cash.

We see such in Paul's insistence that he was not a "peddler of God's word" (2 Cor 2:17); in his denial that he practiced "cunning" (2 Cor 4:2); in his claim in one place that he "did not defraud anyone" (2 Cor 7:2); and in another that neither he nor those that he sent to Corinth were intent on swindling the community (2 Cor 12:16–18)15.

Although it is difficult to understand precisely the ins and outs of the controversy in Corinth, we can nevertheless be confident that the problems were eventually worked out and that the Corinthian collection was completed. We know this because, in his letter to the Romans, Paul tell us that he was about to travel to Jerusalem with the money that had been collected in Achaia, the province whose major city was Corinth (Rom 15:25–26). But in that same letter, Paul exhibits anxiety that the collection  (Gentile franchise!) money from Achaia (and Macedonia, the province of Thessaloniki and Philippi) might not be accepted (enough !) upon its arrival in Jerusalem. He therefore asks the Roman church to pray that his "ministry to Jerusalem may be acceptable to the saints"(Rom 15:31).

Unfortunately, no ancient source provides us with a reliable account of Paul's encounter with the Jerusalem leadership when he arrived with the collection. Consequently, scholars are divided in their opinions. Some think that the collection money was not accepted by the Jerusalem leadership; others think that it was; still others suggest that a compromise was worked out.

The book of Acts claims that when Paul reached Jerusalem, he was persuaded to pay for the release of four Jews from their vows. As Acts tells the story, Paul's payment was intended to prove to the members of the Jerusalem church that Paul still respected the Law of Moses (Acts 21:21–26). Although Acts says nothing about the collection here, some scholars see a compromise over its fate lurking behind this story, a compromise that would have enabled Paul to save face while, at the same time, relieving the Jerusalem leadership of the burden of deciding whether or not to accept money from Paul. While the possibility that such a compromise actually occurred should not be ruled out, it is also conceivable that the author of Acts created this narrative to cover up an ugly event involving those who had by his time become the heroes of the early Church.

Keith Nickle suggests that an allusion to charges against Paul also exists in 20:33, where Paul tells the elders from Ephesus, "I coveted no one's silver or gold or clothing"

The suggestion that some in Corinth suspected Paul of fraud does not always come across in the English translations. Nevertheless, the Greek verb pleonekteō, which appears in 7:2; 12:17; 12:18, typically means to "defraud" or "cheat." “

From...https://global.oup.com/obso/focus/focus_on_paul_collection/

* “The cash collection for the Jerusalem church occupies significant portions of the Pauline epistles (1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8:1–9:15; Rom 15:14–32)”... Further, “Paul was engaged in at least two (cash collections)  for Jerusalem—one from the Antioch church and later one from his Gentile churches...”  even though...” the Book of Acts nowhere mentions the (cash) collection.”  However...” to retrace the history of the (cash) collection is to “be reminded that the seemingly mundane task of fundraising was for Paul a deeply theological endeavor, one which demanded his total commitment and perseverance through intense struggle” (pp. 71–72)...  http://themelios.thegospelcoalition.org/review/the-offering-of-the-gentiles-pauls-collection-for-jerusalem-in-its-chronolo

** collecting cash from the gullible “spanned the course of years of Paul’s ministry, and was something that Paul claimed he was prepared even to die for (Rom 15:30–31) http://themelios.thegospelcoalition.org/review/the-offering-of-the-gentiles-pauls-collection-for-jerusalem-in-its-chronolo

[wisdomrays]

THE MEANING OF WISDOM

Question: “He grants Wisdom to whomever He wills, and whoever is granted Wisdom, had indeed been granted much good. Yet none except people of discernment reflect and are mindful” (2:269). What should we understand from the word “wisdom” in this verse?

First of all, we should discuss the ideas and opinions of the former scholars about the meaning of wisdom (hikma) referred to in this verse.

Some scholars defined wisdom as “non-recited revelation” and the Prophet’s statements, peace and blessings be upon him. The following verses in the Qur’an distinguish clearly the Book (the Quran) from wisdom: “God has sent down on you the Book and the Wisdom, and taught you what you did not know” (Nisa 4:113), and “I taught you [Jesus] of the Book and Wisdom, and the Torah and the Gospel” (Maidah 5:110).

With inspiration based on this Quranic distinction, the majority of the traditional scholars (muhaddith) indicated that the Book, referred to in this verse, means the Holy Quran while the wisdom points to the luminous remarks, wise words, marvelous thought, and virtuous statements of the Prophet.

Some said more specifically, “Wisdom is cognizance of the secrets of the universe so that a person who reads it like a book grasps the right thing to do, the wisdom, the benefit, the harmony, and the relation between cause and effect.” The pleasure of a person successful in reading such a book will increase the more he reads, and as the pleasure increases, he will read even more, and in this way he will become aware of wisdom. In this context, wisdom can be regarded as the study of the universe (macro-cosmos) and the human being (normo-cosmos), which is generally discussed by philosophers and theologians.

Another meaning of wisdom is the comprehension of Islam’s proper course and purpose, which include the effects of belief in the Judgment Day, how prescribed prayer functions in regulating our material and spiritual life, the role of fasting in purifying our carnal self, the place of prescribed purifying alms in being the vault of the social balance and order, the function and duty of pilgrimage in bringing Muslims worldwide together, and the like.

The phrase in the verse, “Whoever is granted the Wisdom has indeed been granted much good,” (Baqarah 2:269) means that whoever can comprehend wisdom is blessed with the favors of Almighty God, which is one of the points we understand from the verse.

Some scholars maintained that wisdom can be defined as “grasping the secrets of the Divine Names,” which is another major aspect. Indeed, whoever sees manifestations of the divine names wherever he or she looks has comprehended wisdom. A friend of God who looked at the names and saw their manifestation expressed his thoughts and feelings like this: “A sage cannot see anything but the Names; a dervish of the saint Jilani will grasp the secret.”

In other words, anyone looking at the manifestations of the Divine Names will desire to see the Holy Being Who is denoted by those Names or to witness God. Such a person will fall on his/her knees and prostrate in the face of every event or incident in the universe, and when s/he places his/her head on the ground and closes his/her eyes and is lost in inner feelings, s/he will attain a vastness as if s/he had placed his/her head on the pillars of the Divine Throne --though He is exempt and free from all sorts of quality or quantity. S/he will start to regard every sound as a chant coming from God and every color as an atlas consisting of variations of God's Name. This must be another dimension of wisdom.

In another sense, wisdom is attainment of diverse feelings and perceptions in the treasure of the Divine Names, Attributes, and Functions during one's never-ending voyage, and such a person has understood the truth of things and is in the grip of full wonder and curiosity about the Divine Essence. Occasionally, Divine Attributes are manifested. Yet, like the Divine Essence, His Attributes are unknown to us-though something may be said about their essence. Saying it another way, they are present, but are unknown. A person who has been elevated to this station is in a state of saying, “I have comprehended or I have sensed or I have fully understood,” and he is in the conjecture and imagination of always running, making significant progress, rushing and conceiving new things, but most of the time, s/he is bewildered. As we noted above, this station of the spiritual journey and progress is called “station of amazement.”

Those taking this journey become bewildered when they reach this station; their vision becomes blurry and changes, they do not see you when they look at you, their glance is dimensional, and they always see different things. They see a different face in your face and different eyes in your eyes. When you speak, they hear someone else speaking, and they can also feel it in their conscience. This station is the station of amazement and wonder. People in this station are not easily fooled; if they are fooled, it is rare because they always have the zeal to run towards God and to reach Him.

Considering the aforementioned, we can say that whoever is granted wisdom is blessed with many benefits. God grants wisdom to whomever He wishes. Still, there are some prerequisites for being entitled to receive wisdom. These include the capability for receiving it, the aptitude for discovering the universe, a heart that is able to feel and sense the manifestations of the Divine Names, and improved subtle faculties. All of these will be granted by God, Who will then give wisdom to this predisposed nature in the above-mentioned fashion. A person who reaches this horizon has been given copious good.

How can it be otherwise? Such people understand the meaning of the universe. They see that everything manifested in the universe is a manifestation of God’s Names. They walk to the horizon of the attributes and become obsessed with fully knowing, understanding, and perceiving the Exalted Essence. Even if they are told, “The doors are locked; don’t tire yourself in vain,” they wait with wonder for the moment the door will open.

For this reason, people who are in this station have a longing for reunion with God, thus they anxiously wait for their time in this world to come to end. Prophet Joseph said in expressing such a wish from a person in this station, “My Lord! You have indeed granted me some important part of the rule and imparted to me some knowledge of the inner meaning of all happenings. O You, Originator of the heavens and the earth with particular features! You are my Owner and Guardian in this world and in the Hereafter. Take my soul to You a believer, and join me with the righteous” (Yusuf 12:101). Despite all his material achievements and fame, Prophet Joseph desired union with the True Beloved.

Finally, wisdom can also be defined as the understanding of the web of relations among human beings, the universe, and the Quran. The universe is a book compiled by God with His Power and Will. The human being is a concise summary and index of this book. And the Quran is a book that tells the meaning of the universe and the human in divine wording. The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, is the man who understands this in the best way. He is, therefore, the greatest prefect man (al-insan al-kamil). Whoever conceives this truth is the one to whom wisdom is granted. Those who consider the universe, the human, and the Quran separately from each other are deprived of wisdom and its joy.

May God instill relief in our hearts and help us understand this Noble Truth.

[famovs]

Headshot Photographers London

The headshot. It's the solitary essential marketing tool for an actor, and also it's impressive the amount of people do it wrong just to cut a couple of corners. Stars, it's time to take it more seriously. When that little headshot jpeg pops up on a spreading supervisor's computer, you want them to claim, "Yes, bring that individual in!" Not "Yikes, that person kinda frightens me."

Your headshot is your business card. A nice colour 8x10 of your face, from which people will certainly employ you, and you will certainly make great deals of cash for them. It will certainly be sent out as well as emailed to lots of casting supervisors and representatives, that see thousands of these every day, on their work desk as well as on their computer system. If your headshot is bad, you look poor. You want to be seen as a pro, not an amateur, so the method you present yourself in your picture is whatever. If you want individuals to take you seriously, you must have a good, high quality, killer headshot. Not an iPhone pic, not a Facebook photo of you outside with the wind delicately blowing your hair, and also not a JCPenney glamour fired with hand trees in the background that you recreated at Kinko's. Save those for your granny's mantle.

Right here is what you require to bear in mind when it involves your headshots:

1. Go pro.

Spend the cash. It's worth it. Most likely to a specialist, who is trained, understands lights, as well as takes headshots for a living, not some buddy that takes place to have a respectable video camera who "sorta recognizes a little about photography." Conserve those images for Instagram, and also leave the headshots to the pros. Excellent headshots range from $400-$1200, and also to get them properly duplicated (not at CVS) will certainly cost you another $100. Anything much less is just a glorified ticket photo. If the headshots look cheap, they most likely are. And you resemble you do not care about your profession.

2. Choose personality over glamour.

Make certain it looks like you. Chill with the airbrushing. Casting supervisors anticipate you to look just like your headshot, as well as will certainly not more than happy when you turn up looking completely various, or 10 years older. It's not about looking rather, it's about representing your kind, age wrinkles consisted of. It ought to resemble you on your best day, showing your age, and that you are currently. It's not regarding the type you intend to be, it's the type you are.

3. It's all about the eyes.

Just like with on-camera performing, it's all about the eyes, as well as what's happening behind them. It's your closeup, your moment. Your eyes should be completely in emphasis, to life, and also invigorated, and also not dead and glazed over. There need to be strong inner ideas, implying a backstory and also a life behind the eyes. A slight squint as well as solid piercing eyes will certainly bring a picture to life and also assist it stick out in a heap of hundreds. An excellent headshot digital photographer knows exactly how to bring this out in you.

4. Pay attention to framework, lights, and history.

As a whole, a good headshot is chest-up with great lighting on your face, as well as no solid dramatic darkness, unless you are adopting "The Phantom of the Opera." Three-quarter shots benefit print, and severe close-ups are good for, well, nothing. Look directly right into the camera, and also the emphasis needs to be on the facility of your eyes, not your left ear, or your t shirt collar. No tranquility indications, weird face hair, or the renowned "hand on face" position. Make certain the history is obscured, which implies it's shot with a great, high-quality video camera with a high deepness of area, which makes you stand apart. We do not need to see that you are basing on the beach in Santa Monica, or on an excursion boat before the Statue of Liberty. It's about you, not the atmosphere.

5. All-natural light vs. studio.

Some photographers do both, as they use a different look and feel. All-natural light gives a very genuine, "film" appearance, which I favor. Workshop illumination often tends to be a little bit extra sleek, with a much more neutral backdrop. Both can be wonderful. If you are even more of a sitcom actor, perhaps an excellent well-lit studio headshot is much more fit for you. If you intend to resemble you get on "True Detective," then go for the outdoor look.

6. Garments and also props.

I once saw a headshot of a person with a bird on his head. Why? Due to the fact that he wanted to stand out. Allow's not obtain insane below. Keep it basic as well as classy, as well as follow the typical layout. Expertise obtains you saw, not desperation. Leave the Ed Hardy as well as the "statement" shirts in the house. A basic, strong shade tee shirt with a little texture that fits you well as well as matches your eyes must suffice. No whites and also no graphics or anything you believe might distract from your face. As well as no props. (You know that, right?) If you think you are mosting likely to play police officer roles, you don't need to put on the outfit in the headshot. It's a bit much and extremely limiting.

7. Don't go nuts with the makeup.

Yes, whole lots can be done with retouching. There is no requirement to put on lots of makeup. You want to appear like on your own on your best day, and also not look like you attempted also hard. Women, be on your own, do your hair the means you would for every tryout. People, bring some oil sheets to take down the sparkle, as well as possibly utilize a gently tinted moisturizer to get the inflammation and even your complexion. Some individuals invest method too much on makeup, only to have to obtain their headshots redone later due to the fact that they look fake in all the images.

Find a photographer that gets you. You need to vibe with the photographer, and that individual needs to make you feel very comfy, as you will hopefully be using this headshot for a couple of years and also sending it to everyone in town. Research study professional photographers on the internet, most likely to Reproductions and also check out their portfolio books, look through the checklist of photographers in Backstage, request for an assessment, get a feel for exactly how they photograph your kind, your ethnicity, your gender, etc

As well as most importantly, don't reduce edges.

LEADING IDEAS FOR PROFESSIONAL HEADSHOTS LONDON

So you require new headshots and don't know where to begin. The most essential action is locating the ideal photographer! You can have all the style guidance and also presenting expertise worldwide, however it can all be combated by a mismatched portrait photographer. A headshot photographer is capturing your significance as a star; he or she needs to understand you, your style, and the kinds of roles you'll be going out for.

Once you've located a seemingly good match thanks to a suggestion from a friend, an online testimonial, or-- as all in-the-know stars do-- Backstage's Call Sheet, there are numerous vital concerns to ask your photographer before securing it in and composing the check. There's not necessarily a "right" answer to any one of them, however it is essential to assess his/her techniques as well as plans to see if they satisfy every one of your less noticeable requirements as a photo subject. The listed below concerns are an excellent area to start!

1. "The Amount Of?"

Any type of possible image topic should be asking the head photographer the number of shots are administered per session and also whether or not they're electronic or movie. How many photos of those shots will you inevitably obtain for consideration? Will they be retouched? How will these proofs be received (e-mail, CD, flash drive, prints)? How long after the initial shoot will these proofs be ready for seeing?

2. "HOW SHOULD I LOOK?"

Some photographers consist of hair as well as makeup therapy in his/her session price. Does this photographer have you covered? And obviously it matters what you use to a picture session-- will he/she assist you choose an attire? The number of outfits should you bring?

3. "WHERE TO?"

What you wear can quite rely on where this shoot is most likely to occur. If it's warm as well as windy for your headshot session in Central Park, dress appropriately! Or if the photographer has a studio, how will the unnatural illumination affect the way you do your make-up? How are you circumnavigating? If you're walking from Central Park to a studio in Chelsea, it's probably best to forgo the heels.

4. "What's the strategy?"

You can find out a lot about a headshot photographer's style just by looking at the remainder of their profile, yet it never ever harms to ask for a basic plan of exactly how they'll be framing your stunning face! Are they attempting to catch any kind of specific high qualities? Based on their experience in the market, exactly how different should facial expressions and also positions be? For which duties are they setting you up for success?

5. "... Can we try that once more?"

We understand mom taught you it's discourteous to talk about loan, yet one of the first concerns you should ask concerns payment. How and also when does the photographer anticipate repayment? And while you never intend to enter a session expecting the worst, it's also good to check in on their plan for reshoots. If you're not satisfied with exactly how the pictures came out, it's your job to speak out as well as throw down the gauntlet.

OFTEN ASKED INQUIRIES REGARDING PROFESSIONAL HEADSHOTS DO I REALLY DEMAND A PROFESSIONAL HEADSHOT?

If you have an on the internet presence after that yes, you require a professional headshot. There was a time when just expert stars and also actresses required headshots. Thankfully for headshot professional photographers those days are lengthy gone. Absolutely, any kind of actress or star that is not upgrading their headshot consistently ought to be, yet these days almost everyone must have an approximately date headshot.

If you're an individual, your existence on social media sites as well as professional sites can be first aesthetic perception someone will obtain of you. Making that first impression with professional headshot can make the distinction in how you're regarded and also make sure that both professional and personal partnerships obtain off on the right foot. If you have a web page for your organisation a headshot is a must-have component for your "About" area. If you're searching for a suit on a dating web site as well as most of us know that we are judged first by our appearances. That vacation image you've cropped everyone else out of is not most likely to do the job. You'll hear it time and again on this website: Headshots tell a story. If your tale requires to be among a certain, friendly professional, obtain a professional headshot.

HOW OFTEN SHOULD I UPGRADE MY HEADSHOT?

Actors, actresses, and those in the carrying out arts should have headshots done yearly. Youngsters as well as teenagers in carrying out arts should update their headshot extra frequently as their look modifications much more quickly. For corporate settings, pictures can be scheduled whenever a new worker comes on board and those whose look has actually changed significantly should have updated photos taken.

WHAT ABOUT MY HAIR?

Your picture must show you at your ideal, as well as hair is an important part of that look. If you have a stylist you go to consistently, as well as trust, I recommend going to them, not somebody brand-new. Unless you are coming straight from your stylist to your shoot, plan to go a couple of days in advance. This will enable the cut or style to set-in a little bit. For males, take into consideration the photo you want to represent. If you're clean cut and professional, turn up looking in this way. If you choose a 5 o'clock shadow as well as use it well, show up as is. Here comes that line once more, headshots narrate. The essential point is to take some time well before your session to think about the tale you wish to tell as well as make certain your look fits that narrative. If you prefer to have a stylist on-site for your shoot we have a variety of specialists who can assist..

WHAT ABOUT MAKEUP?

Don't overdo it. Modern photography captures extraordinary information and also an over abundance of makeup seldom flatters. That said, it's important to recognise that studio lights can rinse colour from your face, so it is very important to use at the very least light makeup. Eye make-up, particularly mascara and eyeliner, can highlight your eyes. Lipstick with a matte coating photos well. Powder is advised to maintain radiate off your face so there is no glow on the completed portrait. If you prefer to have a stylist on-site for your shoot we have a number of experts who can aid..

DO YOU RETOUCH YOUR IMAGES?

Mark Grey - London Photographer

Grey Corporate Headshots London 71-75 Shelton St, Holborn, London WC2H 9JQ, United Kingdom +44 7764 801420

[uk-news-talking-politics]

Johnson's Brexit plan: No viability, no decency, no hope

By Ian Dunt

It was only moments into his speech that Boris Johnson started lying. "We will under no circumstances," he said, "have checks at or near the border in Northern Ireland." It was false. Overnight, the details of his Brexit proposals to Brussels had leaked. They showed that there clearly would be checks. The British commitment to preventing any customs infrastructure in Ireland would be broken.

Once upon a time, Johnson could make these claims because he was engaged in the magical thinking of 'frictionless trade' and 'alternative arrangements'. There's no excuse for that now.

The Johnson offer to the EU will be published this afternoon, but last night's leak by the Telegraph's Peter Foster was largely corroborated by the details the prime minister offered in his speech. It works by separating out two elements of a future trading relationship: customs and regulations.

Customs involves the assessment of tariffs on goods. Regulations involve checks on whether the goods comply with the rules of the country they're being  sent to. In the EU, none of this matters - you have the same tariff regime and the same rules. Outside the EU, it all needs to be checked.

Johnson's plan sets up two timetables - one for customs and one for regulations.

The customs timetable kicks in first. His deal, like Theresa May's, would have a short transition until 2021. But after that, Northern Ireland and the rest of Britain would leave the customs union with no backstop. Johnson is taking no prisoners here. He is refusing any concessions. The lock keeping Northern Ireland attached to the Republic is gone. That means checks.

How would Johnson try to avoid them? He plans to have a free trade agreement (FTA) with the EU. But that's extremely unlikely to be achieved by 2021. Free trade agreements between major partners take a long time. The one between the EU and Canada took seven years.

But even if he did manage it, there would still be checks. FTAs can hammer down tariffs between countries. But even when that's done, goods have to go through a laborious process of checks, called country of origin requirements, to ensure they're really from the state they're being sent from. This is so that other countries can't surreptitiously sneak their way in with no tariffs as part of a trade deal they didn't negotiate.

The government rubbished a previous leak this week which said there'd be customs posts on either side of the border to do these sorts of checks. But actually it seems inevitable that there will be. Their promises to the contrary are meaningless. They rely on the idea that new technology will magically be invented in the next two years to make them unnecessary. This will not happen. It is one of the great myths of the Brexit argument.

This plan is a complete rejection of the British government's commitment in the December 2017 joint report to avoid a hard border, or any physical infrastructure, or checks or controls. It goes against the promises made to the people of the island on both sides - the Republic, which had no say in all this, and Northern Ireland, which voted against it. There is no consent from these communities for these proposals. They have made clear they are against what they propose. Johnson wants to impose it on them regardless. It is a threat to the peace process. It is a betrayal of the promise of continued north-south cooperation. It is a complete and total abdication of moral responsibility.

The approach to regulations seemingly involves more concessions. Northern Ireland would remain aligned with the EU on agricultural and industrial goods regulations. This is dynamic, meaning that as the EU updated its rules, they would update theirs.

On the face of it, this seems significant. It would involve checks on the Irish sea between Britain and Northern Ireland, which is the kind of thing the DUP - whose votes Johnson would need to get a deal through - vociferously objects to.

But there's a catch. The alignment only lasts until 2025. At that point Northern Ireland gets a say on what happens. Does it want to stay aligned to the EU rules or join the rest of the UK? In practice, this gives the DUP a veto, which they will invariable use. The language is democratic, but in reality it simply serves to stagger the regulatory departure.

It's quite a remarkably tone-deaf package. Basically the UK is taking a bullying position to the EU without having anything to bully them with.

Think about their incentives. This is the kind of thing which essential to successful negotiation but which the Johnson administration is seemingly incapable of.

If Brussels accepted the package, Ireland would be thrown under the bus. It would be a complete betrayal, something they have made clear they would never do.

That's not just a moral point. It is a strategic one. If they go against Ireland, no other member state would trust them again. The offer the EU makes to countries - that they become stronger by working together - would be shown to be false.

So why do it? Johnson is presumably gambling on the fact that if they reject it they'd face no-deal, which would involve the border emerging immediately, without the lead-in to 2021 or 2025.

But this assessment is very weak, because the moral reality of that point is inverted. If the UK decides to leave without a deal, then the consequences are its responsibility. But if the EU signed up to this deal, then it shares that responsibility. And on the areas it cares about - checks on the border, north-south cooperation - those consequences would be equivalent to no-deal.

Such a move would also destroy the EU's credibility in negotiations around the world. It would be seen to buckle on all its key demands in the face of intransigence and threats. Why wouldn't other negotiating partners try the same trick?

But even aside from all that, the threat is empty because no-deal is not actually the consequence of the EU rejection of the deal. The Benn Act ensures that if there is no deal he must ask for an extension. He insists this is not true and that No.10 has found some kind of loophole in the legislation. Given his record, that is likely to be either false or a gross overstatement of some pitifully weak tactic. But even if it were true, parliament could work around it or see Johnson forced to retreat via the courts.

So the EU's incentives are not his deal or no-deal. They are his deal or extension. And extension opens up the possibility of a less insane negotiating team, or even another referendum with a result to Remain, making the whole border problem go away.

It's hard to come up with anything positive to say about this. It shows no understanding of the EU's red lines, no basic moral responsibility towards the problem in Ireland which the Brexit vote created, no consistency with the previous commitments of the British government, no viability, no practicality, no realism, and no concessions at all to the half of the population who voted Remain. It is almost impressive that after all this time they have come up with a proposal that has nothing whatsoever to recommend it.

[raymondklhi340-blog]

Lodi's Treasure Island Red Wine Fest

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[everyforkedroad]

Happy Ending? - Call Me By Your Name (book)

This is a really long freaking post.

I saw Call Me By Your Name for the first time at the beginning of April. I was working on a challenge for Camp NaNoWriMo and had committed to editing 30K of my novel. But watching the movie, then reading the book twice threw a wrench in all of my plans (I still made it at the end of the month, but just barely and I can’t speak to the quality of my work).

I’ll spare you the insane ways I got my friends and family to read the book and/or watch the movie and instead dwell on what I came here to talk about, which is the ending of the novel. The first time I read it, it struck me as unbearably sad and unrequited. My heart broke for the “parallel lives” Elio and Oliver lived, how they might not ever reclaim the love that had so marked their lives.

Then I read an interview where the author, André Aciman confesses that there is a happy ending hidden in that last meeting between Oliver and Elio. This, of course, buoyed me, but it also forced me to go back and confront those last twenty pages or so which had initially so saddened me. A more careful reading made me very excited for the idea of a sequel, how wonderful it could be, though it would have to have a different tone from the first movie. A close read reinforced the impression that there was, in fact, space for an ending full of possibility and hope for Elio and Oliver.

I’m not a particularly grand essayist, my strength lying more in the realm of fiction, but I tried to organize my thoughts and evidence in support of Aciman’s statement (all locations are in the Kindle Edition). It’s my assertion that Aciman sets up the possibility of a reconciliation between Elio and Oliver and leaves clues for the reader to reach that same conclusion.

I’ve divided my analysis in two parts - Elio’s visit to New England and Oliver’s visit after Mr. Perlman’s death. 

Forgive me in advance if I forget anything or get something wrong.

tl;dr – Elio and Oliver have the possibility of a happy resolution, after all.

I. Elio’s visit to New England

I believe the seeds for understanding the ending of the book are planted throughout the novel, but are brought into focus in this section, so I will dwell on some aspects of the exchange that takes place between Oliver and Elio when they go to the hotel to have drinks:

“Your best moment?” (3109)

After some reminiscing, it is Oliver who poses this question to Elio. To readers who believe Oliver was unaffected by his relationship to Elio, this might come as a surprise. However, you have to remember that it is Oliver who reaches out to Elio in a bid for profound intimacy when he asks him, so many years before, to call him by his name. Though Elio and Oliver were already discussing the past in a more abstract way, Oliver is the one who makes it intensely personal. Like the oneness he sought 15 years earlier, he reaches for that connection, as if he has been waiting for a very long time to ask this of Elio.

“Am I glad you came.” (3119)

Again, it is significant that it is Oliver who says this to Elio. It calls to mind the exchange after they’d been together – “Do you know how glad I am that we slept together?” (The movie changes the wording from “glad” to “happy,” which conveys a stronger sense of joy). Oliver is opening himself up to Elio, making himself vulnerable, as he did so many years before.

“Would you start all over again?” (3124)

Oliver asks Elio this question. It makes Elio nervous – of course it would! They are skirting the truth once more, like they did in that summer in Italy. It also reveals what Oliver has on his mind as he is speaking to Elio. His question is not entirely hypothetical. Elio responds in the affirmative, followed by “I’ve had two of these and am about to have a third” which echoes Oliver’s comments about the boiled egg he ate during his first breakfast with the Perlman’s, indicating how precarious both of their self-control is when they want something.

“Seeing you is like waking from a twenty year coma…” (3124-3129)

This section is significant in putting Oliver’s life in context. I’ve seen many people who said, “Well, at least Oliver got married and had kids and found some contentment.” This discounts what it means to shut off an important part of yourself in an effort to carry on with life. Oliver certainly has satisfactions and is proud of his family, just as Elio has had lovers and successes in his own past. But Oliver also describes a vision not dissimilar to that of Rip Van Winkle, in which he falls asleep as a young man and wakes the same age as when he left Elio, the rest of his life having passed without his participation.

In the subsequent exchange, he amends his wording and tells Elio a “part of it – just part of it – was a coma, but I prefer to call it a parallel life. It sounds better.” This parallels the description of earlier of them as old men in a piazza, reminiscing – “And we’ll want to call it envy, because to call it regret would break our hearts.” Both phrases serve to soften the truth – Oliver is not unlike a man sleep-walking through a part of his life. Whatever Oliver found in the years after leaving Elio forced him to bury something important, something intensely connected to Elio. Elio, ever more unfiltered with this feelings, does not soften the wording when he describes his own life as a coma (3139).

“Cor Cordium, heart of hearts, I’ve never said anything truer in my life to anyone.”

Oliver confesses, in one of those scene-stealing moments, the depth his experience with Elio has had on him. This recalls Plato’s Symposium and the story of the souls who split at birth, ever wandering the world in search of each other again.  Elio is his heart, just as his heart (and Billowy) are all that Elio has of Oliver. This phrase also calls to mind Oliver’s words when he is first intimate with Elio and asks him to call him by his name. This is Oliver’s truth, the part he has had to bury, and it belongs completely to Elio. It is more than love. He and Elio are one.

II. Visit after father’s death, five years later:

When Oliver arrives to visit after the death of Mr. Perlman, Elio takes Oliver on a tour of the places they’d been together. Remember, this is the first time in 20 years in which they’ve been in Elio’s house at the same time. Below are all the ways Oliver reveals that he remembers their time together:

“My old room” (3188)

“Orle of paradise/squeaky gate” 3197

“Been there, done that” when Elio shows him the empty lot (3202)

“To die for” to describe the belfry (3202)

“I’ll bet you they never closed my account” (3202)

“Beneath us was his rock, where he sat at night, where he and Vimini had whiled away entire afternoons together.” (3207)

“I’ve kept all her letters […] I’ve kept yours too” 3207

All of these memories explode between them, leading up to the exchange,

“Are you happy you’re back?”

He saw through my question before I did.

“Are you happy I’m back?” he retorted.

I looked at him, feeling quite disarmed, though not threatened. Like people who blush easily, but aren’t ashamed of it, I knew better than to stifle this feeling and let myself be swayed by it.

“You know I am. More than I ought to be, perhaps.”

“Me too.”

That said it all.

Reader, this matters so much, the That said it all, because the entire reminiscing is a building crescendo that starts with the remembering of five years ago, revealing both to be of one mind. It carries the reader to the inevitable conclusion:

“I know he (Mr. Perlman) would have wanted something like this to happen, especially on such a gorgeous, summer day” (3234)

Something like this, on a gorgeous summer day. What beautiful things took place between these two on days such as this? What could Mr. Perlman have wanted for his son and the one he treated like a son-in-law on a day like this? Something like this.

“Remember the way?”

“I remember the way,”

“You remember the way,” I echoed (3237)

Oliver reiterates over and over, I remember, and Elio echoes it, in the same way he echoes himself when he says Because I wanted you to know. Oliver tells him finally,

“I’m like you, I remember everything.” (3247)

When we come to the last, heartbreaking paragraph, the coda is complete. Oliver and Eliot cannot behave as two strangers on a train. Elio’s plea is not an open-ended question. Oliver has answered it over and over again, has been answering this question even before it was posed, when he asks Elio to call him by his name, frames the postcard of Monet’s Berm, writes the inscription, “Cor Cordium,” follows Elio’s career, invites Elio to share his favorite moment, asks him if he would start again, and comes to Elio, during yet another summer, now another man, twenty years later, but not unlike Rip Van Winkle waking from a coma/parallel life. Elio silently implores Oliver:

“I stopped for a second. If you remember everything, I wanted to say, and if you are really like me, then before you leave tomorrow, or when you’re just ready to shut the door of the taxi, and have already said goodbye to everyone else and there’s not a thing left to say in this life, then, just this once, turn to me, which would have meant everything to me when we were together, and, as you did back then, look me in the face, hold my gaze, and call me by your name.”

But like everything else, Oliver has already answered. “I remember everything.”

In that remembering, everything is prefigured: the coma, the memory, the joy, the return, the open remembrance, the abandon to a feeling that is as eternal as their Star of David. I understood, finally, what wasn’t written in the pages, what wasn’t laid out but must be understood by the reader, the reader who has followed the trail of crumbs to reach this point together with Elio and Oliver. It will be a different summer from the one that brought them together the first time. But Oliver did not come to Elio in winter or fall, but in the heat of an Italian summer, the dream coming full circle.

Oliver will, one way or another, call Elio by his name.

tl;dr – Elio and Oliver have the possibility of a happy resolution, after all. 

[joemoshe]

Why Successful People Are Not Smarter Than You

Imagine unexpectedly being the person in charge of a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate company overnight. Do you think you will have what it takes to run it and make it more successful in the years to come, or will you lead it to failure?

Although successful people indeed have great minds, a bigger picture is yet to be painted.

What do you think the new Tesla auto model would look like if you were to be the company’s CEO tomorrow? Or do you even have a single idea how what it should look like? I mean, is there even a chance you’ll be at the same level as someone who built a multi-billion-dollar asset?

The questions might have put you in an awkward spot, and it must have crossed your mind that success might not be meant for you. However, here’s the truth: There is no association between being successful and being smart.

If you would notice, millions of smart people are simple employees living average lives. At the same time, some highly successful people aren’t smart at all.

Co-founder of the restaurant reservation software company Resy and Empathy, Gary Vaynerchuk, even stated that he could sit around for about 6 years and talk about the things he is very bad at.

So, how do people become so successful without having a sharp wit?

They are not smarter than you, they just focus on being smart once.

Determining how smart you are by what you did in the past is so trivial.

Olivia was always one of the most intelligent kids in her class. He has always been good at doing her work, but upon checking his social media account, it seems like the people she outperformed at school have achieved a lot more than her.

Likewise, her colleagues who started their career behind time have now leapfrogged her. She came to a point where she wondered if he was really smart or not.

Does it sound familiar? You might relate to Olivia yourself or have a friend or relative who struggles with similar sentiments.

Some people sabotage themselves with unhealthy descriptions of what being smart means. Thoughts like, “I was never smart to venture in such kind of investment,” or “I was not enough to pull off that work” often creeps in because they tend to look in retrospect.

The missed opportunities often lead smart people to make dumb decisions to make up for their lost chances. This is why they are apt to venture into investments with insane leverage and ruin their finances.

Bear in mind that your previous doltish performance won’t determine your overall future success.

For instance, people who had invested in Twitter early when the platform was in its infancy made a lot of money are now called successful. Some didn’t invest in the mentioned company but made good profits in their investment.

However, this doesn’t mean that they are smarter than you. You are getting this all wrong if you think so.

Successful people aren’t actually smart in all areas of their life all the time. They surely make the right calls and are well-versed in what they should do. But all it takes is for you to be successful is to be smart once.

You can be dumb as much as you like, but you need to be smart at one thing to outweigh everything else you’re dumb at.

They are not smarter than you, they just know how to apply their knowledge.

One of the things you might be getting wrong is being smart is all about having broad knowledge. But technically, being smart actually have two components: (1) acquired knowledge (2) and application of acquired knowledge.

The problem here is that people tend to overlook the second part.

There are walking many walking encyclopedias out there that have nothing to offer aside from their non-tangible intelligence. It is important to understand that application is way more significant.

You can think about it this way. To learn how to ride a bike, there are two ways you can follow:

You read the manuals on the internet and watch others how they do it; or

You just hop immediately on it with helmets on, hoping for the best

Your first ride might not be perfect in any way, but as long as you’re not heading to a flight of stairs, you’ll probably do just fine. Doing it right the second time around is what actually makes you smart.

Putting things simply, your first smart call can is what sets you up whether to stop or pursue your new venture. And the second time is what you can consider a successful endeavor.

Now, how do you confirm a smart move? The answer lies in the future. Even Bill Gates didn’t know if he was making a smart call while starting Microsoft. He even has no single idea if he was doing everything right.

Successful people are those who make a knowledge-oriented bet with the intention of adding value to it while letting the game just play itself out. The game will play itself out as long as you know what you are doing.

They are not smarter than you, they only know how to network.

Networking is one of the secrets of successful people. You present yourself and make connections to establish relationships and rapport. However, there is an overlooked misunderstanding about networking.

The truth is that networking isn’t about knowing many people in different industries. Research has shown that you only need to reach out to about six people on earth—the concept of six degrees of separation.

Six degrees of separation revolves around the idea of knowing about six or fewer social connections. It is also referred to as the six handshakes rule, where a “friend of a friend” can be connected to two people is a max of six steps.

The concept of six degrees of separation originally emerged back in 1929, when a group of people played a game intending to connect any person in the world through the chain of five others. The idea, however, was only popularized in 1990 through John Guare’s play.

Going back to the main point, it’s not about ‘how many people you know, but ‘who’ you know. This boils down to the fact that being in the right room is even more important than the reason why you went there in the first place.

Have you heard of the story behind Nike’s logo?

The logo designer of Nike was a student at Portland State University back in 1971 named Carolyn Davidson. She doesn’t have enough money to purchase her painting supply needs in school. Hence, her professor came to her rescue by giving her a little side project to design a logo for his running shoes business for only $35.

Carolyn created multiple variants, and the professor chose the one that sucks the least. After a couple of years, she ended up working for Nike and received a confidential amount of the company’s shares.