#I distinctly remember one of my classmates getting in trouble for using it during class in like 9th(ish) grade

[transgenderwaterrat]

what the hell is it with people defending usage of the r slur lately

[leisurelypanda]

Ballad of the Thundering Heart ch. 18

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605048/chapters/32809386

trigger warning: sexuality slurs, homophobia

“Did you hear we have a new theater director?” Tony asked as he rushed up towards them.

“Finally,” Loki said. “I hope he has some ideas already. I am already displeased to have not been in rehearsal at all this year.”

Thor could not follow it. He understood theater, of course. He incorporated more than his fair share of drama and grandstanding when he was on the field or trying to fire up a crowd, but that was as far as his skill in the theatrical arts went. Loki, however, Loki practically salivated at the thought of being on stage. He was apparently one of those lucky few who was born without any inherent sense of stage fright.

“I’m hoping for a musical or something,” Tony said. “Something lively.”

“Musicals are nice, I suppose,” his brother countered. “I’m hoping for something more classy. Like Shakespeare.”

Thor laughed as Tony made a snoring sound. Steve snickered beside him. It had been over a week since the Homecoming and whatever love bites had marked his skin had long since faded. It was worse for Steve. He had to wear long sleeve t-shirts with hoods for the first couple days after to conceal the fact that he had them. Thankfully the weather was starting to cool, though not as much as he might wish for.

They were busy studying for their physics test. Considering the last test had been much more difficult than either of them had anticipated, they had been sure to spend the entire weekend studying. Which was a shame, all things considered. But Steve, like Thor, took his studies seriously. It did not mean that they refrained from doing anything as a couple, but they did less than he would have preferred. Snogging to a movie was much more fun than studying momentum, after all.

Thor looked up, they had about 10 minutes until class started. He put his books and notes in his bag. He would take them out to study again during lunch. Next to him, Steve also put his things away. They started this little ritual last week. It was difficult to get privacy sometimes, so they took what they could get during the week.

“Do you feel ready?” he asked as they walked towards Steve’s classroom.

“Yeah, a bit,” Steve replied. “Still a bit nervous, though.”

“You will do fine, älskling. We both will,” he replied, squeezing his hand. Steve squeezed back.

“There you two are,” said a new voice from behind them. Thor turned. It was some of his teammates. The sort who were similar to Hodge, but did not seem to run in the same circles. Mean, petty men who were only on the team because the game was the only thing they were decent at. He placed himself between them and Steve.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“That’s rather hostile of you, Odinson,” their ringleader jeered. He was on the team, but usually benched as a backup in case someone on the defensive line was seriously injured. Brown, Thor remembered after a moment. Anson Brown. He was a short, stocky man with pocketed acne scars on his pale face, a wide nose that had been broken a few times, and dun, brown eyes that seemed constantly glazed over, like he was high.

That might explain a few things, Thor thought. The guy was backup for a reason.

“We want you off the team, Thor,” he said. He sounded high, too. Like his thoughts were vague and slow to come. Thor barked out a laugh.

“Why is that?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“We don’t want the football team to be led by a fuckin’ sissy,” he declared. Thor huffed.

“Right,” Thor replied. “Well, there are already 3 pointless men off the team for their injuries, what does it matter if there are a few backups to add to the list?”

“It don’t matter,” a lackey said. “We already went to the coach. Said you was bad for the team cause we can’t trust you.”

Thor felt his rage building inside him. They went behind his back? To the coach? He was really about to lay into them. Then Steve was between them and Thor’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“Back off,” he said.

“What’d you say, faggot?” one of the malcontents demanded.

“Back off,” Steve repeated. “So what if he’s gay? What does it matter to you?”

“We can’t have a faggot on the team,” Anson insisted boorishly. “It’s bad for morals.”

“Morale,” one of the lackeys corrected.

“Right, that.”

“Why?” Steve demanded. “You’ve won every game you’ve played this year.”

“Don’t matter,” he droned. “We can’t have a guy in the locker room who might be checkin’ us out. It’s not natural.”

“You know what’s not natural?” Steve hissed, stepping up to get in Anson’s face. “Your obsession with who he does or doesn’t like. That’s disgusting. You’re so worried that he might be checking you out that you’re actually obsessing over it. It doesn’t even concern you!”

They were stunned silent at that.

“You’re cowards,” Steve continued. “If you have a problem with him at least have the balls to go to him about it instead of whining to the coach.”

Anson grabbed him by the shirt and raised a fist to strike him down. Thor rushed forward. Great Baldr, please no, he prayed silently.

“Go ahead,” Steve said. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remarkably, miraculously, it seemed to work. Anson shoved him back and stalked off.

“This punk ain’t worth it,” he grumbled.

Steve released a breath all at once and slumped. Thor grabbed him in a fierce embrace.

“I’m fine, Thor, really,” he assured him. Thor released him and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Älskling,” he breathed. “That was… hot.”

Steve blushed. “Really?”

“Yes,” Thor said, holding his face. “I have never been more attracted to you than right now.”

Steve blushed. “It wasn’t anything special,” he said. “It was a dumb thing for me to do.”

“It was a brave thing for you to do,” Thor countered. “And I have never admired you more than when you did it.”

“It’s not fair for you to do all the fighting,” Steve whispered. “I just… I wanted to protect you.”

Thor kissed his lips softly. It was a chaste kiss, filled with adoration and gratitude. Steve returned it after a brief moment. His lover took a trembling breath when they parted. Thor stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers, feeling the soft, gentle features that hid so much strength.

“I thank you for it,” Thor whispered. “My little hero.”

Then Steve smiled, and Thor’s heart was glad. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

The entire rest of the day, Thor ran Steve’s confrontation with his detractors through his head again and again. It amazed him. Not just that it worked, but that Steve had actually done it. He actually had to put it from his mind a couple times during the physics test so he could focus. Of course, as soon as the test was over, they had some free time.

“You nervous about talking to the coach?” his lover asked.

“Hm? No, why should I be?” he replied.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Steve said. “But the teachers here aren’t exactly fair minded.”

“That is an understatement,” Thor huffed. “But it is very simple, Steve. If I get kicked off the team because I have a boyfriend, one of two things will probably happen. One, my parents will complain. And if there is one thing you should never do to government officials, it is give them reason to complain.”

“And if that doesn’t happen?” Steve asked.

“Then I will find something else to do with my time,” Thor whispered. “Maybe I can find a rugby club for teenagers in the city.”

“But wouldn’t you be happier staying on the team?”

“To be honest, I would rather the school have a rugby team,” Thor said. “American football is… interesting. Fun when you get used to it, but it really is a wimpy version of rugby.”

“You still need to show me a game,” Steve said, laughing.

“I do, that is true,” he said. “Are you free this weekend?”

Steve nodded.

“Wonderful!” Thor said. “I will bring you to the light, yet.”

“If you can keep off my neck long enough to explain what's going on, that is,” Steve teased.

Thor laughed, causing the teacher to look up from her desk to glare at him. He quieted himself and waved in apology.

“You're one to talk, älskling,” he whispered. “I seem to remember you being quite enamored with mine.”

His lover blushed. “It doesn't… bother you, does it?”

“I do not mind,” Thor assured him. “I am Swedish. We are not as… hung up about such things. Besides, it feels good.”

Steve’s flush grew until it encompassed his entire face as he smiled and gods the sight was beautiful. Thor was counting down the minutes until school let out when they no longer had to worry about getting in trouble for public displays of affection. At least, until he had to show up for practice, that is. Americans were so backwards and repressed. What was wrong with kissing in public? It wasn’t like they were having sex for all the world to see. Hell, all they were doing now was talking and people were giving them dirty looks.

As soon as the bell rang, Steve surprised him again by sitting in his lap and kissing him. Thor hummed with surprise but returned the kiss. It was a pleasant surprise. HIs hand fell to Steve’s thighs and brought him closer.

Someone coughed. Thor groaned and broke contact. It was one of their classmates. Becky or something. He couldn’t remember. She looked distinctly uncomfortable as she looked at them. Thor glared at her. Much as he was comfortable being affectionate in public, he did not exactly appreciate an audience. Unless they were cheering. That was different.

“What is it?” he asked, a bit more harshly than he intended.

“Do you guys mind?” Thor stared at her, but did not say anything. “I mean, it’s cool you guys are gay, that’s not a problem, but do you have to shove it down our throats every day? I mean, we get it, you’re gay but could you tone it down?”

“Ms. Davies,” the teacher said from across the room. “A moment of your time if you please.”

“Yes Ms. Foster,” she said.

“Is it any of your business what they do with each other, Nancy?” Ms. Foster asked. That’s it, Thor thought.

“Well they--”

“I’m not asking about them,” she said. “I’m asking how it involves you.”

Becca was silent and hung her head. “It doesn’t ma’am.”

“I thought not,” Ms. Foster said. “Don’t let me catch you doing that again.”

Becca practically ran out of the room. Steve was hiding his face in the crook of Thor’s neck. It annoyed him, but not because he thought Steve was too fearful. He was still new to this. The fact that he was willing to be public at all was thrilling to him. It was mostly because it made his lover feel ashamed or like he needed to hide himself. When the girl was gone the teacher walked up to them.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “You guys okay?”

“We are well, Ms. Foster,” Thor assured her.

“Good. By the way if either of you are ever interested, I’m the faculty adviser for the Gay-Straight Alliance,” she said. “We have a meeting after school this Friday.”

“I am, regrettably, unavailable after school most of the time,” Thor said.

“But… I might be… interested,” Steve said, sheepishly.

“Wonderful Steve,” she said, smiling. “It will be great to have you there.”

She said nothing more and went back to her desk. Thor was grateful. Allies were something of a mixed bag. They were well meaning, most of the time, but some were very aggressive in their brand of solidarity to the point that it was off putting. Ms. Foster, at least, seemed to be the quiet, supportive brand of ally, at least.

Thor looked up at the time and groaned. There was never really enough time.

“I have to go, älskling,” he whispered, kissing him again. Steve sighed, but got up.

Thor walked him to the front of the building before heading to the locker room. As much as he had tried to play it off like it was not a big deal, he could admit to himself that he was nervous. There was no telling what the coach or his team of assistant coaches would do. He had no idea where they stood on the matter. Considering that they lived in New York City, it was more likely than many places to be accepting. But prejudice towards queer folk was everywhere.

He tried not to worry about it as he walked into the room. He tried to ignore the dirty looks or the way people leaned and moved away from him. He tried to focus on getting dressed and ready for practice.

“Thor,” one of his teammates said. “Coach wants to see you.”

He nodded and finished getting outfitted before he headed to the office. Thankfully, only the head coach was there, Coach Phillips. He was an older man, perhaps the same age as his father. Coach Phillips and Odin, Thor had decided, would either get along famously or they would be at each other’s throats constantly and there was no in between. The man had a perpetually stern look on his face, like he had spent some time in the military and it had left him in a sour mood ever since. That being said, Thor thought him a decent man. When he entered the office, Coach Phillips motioned for him to walk with him.

“Son, I don’t know what rumors you’ve heard but I’ve had a number of complaints about you recently,” he said as he walked.

“Anson Brown informed me this morning,” Thor said. “Have there been any others?”

“Most of the complaints have been from guys like him,” Phillips said. “Bitter sons of bitches with delusions of grandeur who want to play but aren’t as good as they think they are.”

Thor chuckled at that.

“You think this funny, Odinson?” Phillips asked.

“Why shouldn’t I, sir?” Thor asked. “You made me quarterback because I am the most qualified, not because I was straight.”

“You got the right of it there, son,” he replied. “God, I hoped all this would end when Barnes went off to college.”

“You know about Bucky, Coach?”

Coach Phillips gave him a deadpan look. Of course he does, Thor thought.

“Son, this happens every time there’s a gay or bisexual or what have you guy on the team,” he explained. “And every time it happens there are some kids who want to whine about it ‘cause they think being naked in a room with someone who likes guys makes them less of a man.”

“So there is no problem then,” Thor stated.

“Not unless you plan on fuckin’ your boyfriend in the locker room,” he replied. “Now get out there, I want you all to get those plays down pat by Friday. Anyone gives you trouble, you deal with it or you send them to me, got it?”

“Yes, coach,” Thor replied and jogged to the field where people were already starting to get ready.

It could have been worse, Thor thought with relief. Wait until I tell Steve, he will be gladdened.

[schfifty-five]

 so grateful to have had the science teachers that i did. every single one has had a profound effect on me, and they were all weird in a way that reminded me i wasn’t alone.  (ordered by grade 1-12, skipping grade 2)

mrs. perino: we passed a jar of heavy whipping cream around the class and shook it till we had butter. she brought bread it so we could try it!

mrs. giordano in third grade, still remember learning how your lungs take in your deoxygenated blood and convert it to oxygenated blood. (she gave away two reference books to the best 2 science students that year and i got the book about marine life and cheyne westerman got the book about the human body and i was honestly devastated by that and continue to be to this day)

mrs. nole, in retrospect, kinda scarred me for life with that day where she kept all the girls back from recess and let us out one by one in order of how well behaved we were. i was last. still relatively patient otherwise. she did, at least, instill a strong understand of the scientific method, which i would be helpless without.

mrs daviskiba, classic old lady science teacher. i remember her saying she didn’t understand why people tried to get rid of wrinkles because hers were only there because she smiled all the time and why would that be a bad thing

mrs. brugger taught me the value of reading and taking notes, as well as how to read a textbook without dying. didn’t really appreciate that till college when i skipped all my classes and taught myself everything in half the time by reading and taking fuckin notes.

MR DVORIN i think in my mind that class was just him and me having a convo. i remember many lessons would just be me, kneeling in my chair, talking with my hands, throwing out hypotheticals to get a better grasp of the scientific principles he was trying to convey. his patience helped me truly understand and love chemistry/physics concepts. i remember being so confused by a question on a test once, and not understanding why i didn’t know the answer, and i just fucking cried like a baby for at least one minute during a 7th grade science test. i distinctly remember him mentioning the statistic that 1 in 10 people are gay in response to something ignorant a classmate stated (which i do not remember). although not necessarily “fact”, it’s more than likely true (given that the current adult population was raised before the extremely recent and still-needing-work movement to accept LGBT ppl) and regardless, it opened my mind to the possibility that not being straight wasn’t “one in a million” type thing. also just in general, he would level with us like any good teacher does. a kid knows when you’re treating them like a kid, and i was so much more comfortable learning when i was treated how i felt.

for example, one time i think we were talking about bad habits or maybe someone was being critical of a nose-picker, but at one point he was like “no guys i’m not saying anything, but if you see a white honda accord sitting at the stoplight outside in the morning, you might see me picking my nose.” his delivery was better but it was validating to see an adult be as candid and as unashamed as i was (or as willing to embrace shame as i was), so i remember that. 

also interesting follow up story, the next year he fell off his roof and broke both his ankles and also got divorced because he was gay. so after knowing and loving him so much everyday for a year, and then having two major things happen to him and i had no way to reach out-- to say i’m sorry and you will get through this-- that was hard. it also made me wonder if he was suffering when i was his student. i was sad to think that someone was struggling with a decision, with a life change, and all i did was spectate. in my mind, he was my friend, and i felt like i had let him down. 

mr. smith was also a gift in that he made me appreciate mr. dvorin so much. he taught with enthusiasm and he definitely made “louder” (more dramatic or eccentric) attempts to convey information with visuals, experiments, jokes, anecdotes. he was a great teacher, but  dvorin was too hard an act to follow, and i’ll only remember mr. smith as a science teacher who was more of a Babysitter than a Science Friend. (which, in retrospect, was probably necessary. any teacher that didn’t tolerate my bullshit, like mr. smith, was crucial to me turning into a moderately acceptable employee)

mr. campbell (biology) i don’t know where to start with this class. the phrase “fucking iconic” comes to mind, but i think that’s more in reference to mr. campbell than the class. it was token milford though. the selection of kids, specifically. plenty of asshole lil bitch boys to pick on me, thankfully seated on the other side of the room. iggy bernotas in front of me. we actually got along great, he was nice and we became good friends on the basis of busting one another’s balls. i once wrote “fatty” (he was tall and skinny) on the back of his sweater as a tasteless joke (i was 14 and had a horrible sense of social norms). although the execution sucked, i stand behind the sentiment. that was the essence of our relationship. i think we were both a little too familiar with being the butt of mean jokes, and getting teased in a non-malicious way (by people who have nothing to gain or lose from you) is incredibly relieving. his mom found it though, and i got called to the principal's offiice. i bawled my eyes out trying to explain that we were friends. i had to take his sweater home and get the ink out, on the condition that i’d pay for it if i didn’t. i felt like an asshole, i just wanted to give him a hard time. iggy wasn’t mad though, i told him how bad i felt. everything was good. regardless, the joking and friendly vibe was arguably sustained by savannah right next to us. she had transferred to milford that year so she didn’t know i wasn’t cool. i don’t remember how i acted in that class, but i’m sure savannah was more tolerant that i deserve, and i remember how kind she was to both iggy and i. vinnie was in front of her, also very patient and kind. anyone that has been around me before yesterday is kind and patient honestly.

mr. campbell is not easy to describe. it takes a semester of his class to truly appreciate this man. i hope if i read this in the future i’ll remember exactly what i mean.  that year in biology was one of my favorites. I will remember the view from my desk forever.

MRS GLEASON taught me so much about love, forgiveness, enthusiasm, and how you don’t have to be bouncing off the walls every day, but that it doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to bounce off the walls if that’s the kind of day it is. i have a lot of ups and downs, and people have trouble dealing with unpredictable moods, so on down days, i used to spend a lot of energy that i didn’t have trying to poorly maintain the persona that people expected, and now i just don’t. i get down some days, and i get happy and energetic other days. that doesn’t mean i won’t still do a good job. mrs. gleason got through to me and i gained a majority of my scientific confidence in her class, but she didn’t have to be the exact same person everyday. a lot of people are stable everyday, but if you aren’t, that’s ok.

Mrs. Kempff would’ve been a great teacher, and AP chem could’ve been a way better class, but i was extremely anxious and in a bad way during junior year. i don’t remember much of what happened, but i know i could’ve mastered the content of that class if i had better tools to deal with my “fuckin head” as they say. 

mrs. gleason also taught me physics in senior year which was pretty fun. everyone needs to understand AT LEAST conceptual physics. if you have any interest in increasing the efficiency of your life and the actions you take, learn basic physics. if you have any interest in anything, basic physics.

i feel like i probably had one or two decent science professors in college, but i never went to class, so i wouldn’t know. I would like to thank me for teaching me science in college. me was very inspiring and showed me that you can accomplish anything you believe in, as long as it’s before the adderall wears off.

thank you for reading, i hope you have all had wonderful science teachers and you use your science knowledge to make the world more gooder.

[aprindea]

Romania vs Cardassia Prime

It is actually surprisingly difficult to organize all the different aspects of this into one coherent essay so this will probably be in 2 parts. I think quite a number of you have heard me draw similarities between Cardassian culture and political climate and Romanian culture and political climate (specifically during the tail “end” of the Cold War era).  It comes to no surprise because dictatorships have similar features even in sci fi literature/movies/tv shows, but, let’s start with the basics.  In Romania during the communist period: there are actually several periods but two are official because the country changed its name from Romania to:

-People’s Socialist Republic of Romania (1947-1965) -Socialist Republic of Romania (1965-1989)

The two periods are actually fairly distinct, but the period I will be talking most from is the Socialist Republic of Romania. Effectively, I did not grow up “during the Communist period”, but I was taught by teachers who were and the influence was far reaching.  My parents, however, did grow up during the Communist period. My mother was born in the same year as Madonna. My father was born two years prior. At that time, Communism had been in effect since 1947. This is just to give people an idea of how relatively quickly things became “normal”. 

“Nothing comes before the Party and the State”. These are the first two priorities for any citizen. For reference, the Communist Party is the ONLY acceptable political party at this point. There is only ONE candidate at the polls but people are required to actually go out and vote so that the numbers, for a while, showed a 98% or 99% “vote” for a specific candidate. (First was Gheorghe Gheorghiu Dej and then Ceauseascu). 

The third priority is the Family. The Party did award large families with certain benefits, including money, so that they lived above the poverty level. Large families were considered as 10+ children and came with a commendation from the government (a medal) for the “work serving the State”. There are, at this point, several awards and commendations issued.

My grandfather received several for his work in his industry (he literally built part of the industry in my city of birth and had 5,000 people under him), which he sincerely considered worthless garbage. I have a different perspective than he did and we argued many times about it.

My parents’ schooling, jobs and places to live were decided by their family situation to an extent but to a greater extent by the State. My parents were admitted into university (Polytechnique is the equivalent) based on the number of placements which the State predicted to be required for very specific projects. As a result, the marks of the newly admitted students mattered greatly, as the project one would be assigned to could be in a better city or worse city. My parents were in their early 20s when they married and as a result were assigned together in the same city, but based on my mother’s marks and my grandfather’s work position, which guaranteed them both jobs. One could not be without a job; there were three shifts where my mother worked, for instance: 8 AM to 4 PM, 4 PM to 12 AM and 12 AM to 8 AM. Monday-Friday. Weekends were for volunteering (you guessed it, each citizen was assigned a volunteer position until they had children). The State located people who were unemployed and assigned them into jobs constantly, but there was some logic to this because one was assigned a job based on their education. My parents were both engineers, which was a reputable field; both worked in automotive. At that time, Romania produced its own cars, trucks, etc but we still did import some models and my grandfather would later win a French car from the lottery. This was unusual because by then (70s) the country was beset with isolationist policies as a result of Russian interests and isolationist policies. (if you want to know more just look up Brezhnev… a lot of things will then start making more sense). Post communism, as students, we were all constantly evaluated with tests and compared against each other from a very young age. Standardized tests were and are still a matter of course in Romania. Each year, we had exams and in my school, the “passing grades” were far above 51% as we were competing with each other for a very limited amount of spots. For example, I was in a class of 30 students, and my marks had to be above 80% at the end of each year, but I competed for a spot at the end of 4th grade and was to compete again for a different spot for high school (same school) at the end of 8th grade. These were standardized tests for several subjects, so a lot of us spent long hours in tutoring to ensure that our grades were up to par. We also had behaviour marks: if we skipped school (unacceptable) or talked back (we could be hit for this as punishment: that’s the only thing that has been a visible change since I was in 4th grade vs 8th grade for me because the Ministry of Education passed laws against it. But I was hit in 4th grade. Hard and more than once. Once I distinctly remember it happened because I stood up for a classmate. I got in trouble for doing this more than once in my school career, but … I never quite learned that lesson lol! Class punishments for one student’s transgression remained common, but no hitting.) In Canada I explained the above to my therapist and she was kind of shocked, lol, but she had asked me how long I had been struggling with anxiety and I did not have an accurate answer. Mental illness in Romania is not and was definitely not acceptable during the Communist period. People were put into forced care, which often lasted for months or years, if they weren’t outright killed. LGBTQ+ people were never permitted out of the closet, and they were subjected to conversion therapy. (I argue that the latter would not happen on Cardassia Prime, but that’s another essay for another day) 

Everything was rationed, especially starting mid 1970s. That means food was rationed (people had cards with lists that were checked off by government workers, if I find a copy of ours I’ll post it) gas was rationed (no more than 2 large flat metal cans per vehicle and gas stations were extremely far apart) and the government set up a system for clothing: if one had had a baby, a family member could collect a baby box which could contain anything from pacifiers to formula bottles, to formula and baby food and possibly blankets. No regular citizen was ever to be informed on what exactly they were going to receive. I asked my mother what my box contained and she told me my grandfather lined up for it and the workers recognized him and she believes they may have given him a better one/extras. We’re not entirely sure, but mine was useful. It had a pacifier I never used, a formula bottle (we still have that) and a few other things.

 There is no church and no religion which can come before Party or State. The Orthodox Church is the official state religion, but it is in and out of favour depending on how much they can “serve”. Every citizen MUST serve The Party and the State fully. This meant everyone over the age of 18, voting age, is a member of the Communist Party. (my parents and their parents were members; I am certain my grandmother burned her party ID card after December 1989  :) ) Socially it was more acceptable to be Atheist.  So you are probably wondering: how did the State effectively control people for that long?  -propaganda; this was present everywhere from the more subtle (posters in the workplace) to more obvious (party meetings, union meetings, schooling)  -The Securitate (this is that Obsidian Order). I often joke about the Obsidian Order. A lot of people probably would get upset with me, but the truth is that most of us bore the weight of the Securitate by making dark jokes about them because there was little choice. Many people disappeared without a trace and this happened pretty frequently. My grandfather told me of many arrests which would happen in the middle of the night. The next day, everyone (co-workers, family members, etc) were to pretend that the person who had been arrested never existed. That’s not an exaggeration. Most homes were miked/bugged so one’s phone conversations were recorded. Additionally (or perhaps even more importantly), family members were enlisted to report each other. So, mother reported son/daughter and children were expected to do the same.  Another way in which people were recorded was in the workplace and restaurants. Specifically, a clear, good quality microphone was placed in or under flower vases in restaurants, and restaurant owners were directed to place a flower vase on each and every table. That’s a small example :) . 

The members of Securitate did not have uniforms normally because they were practically undercover at all times; they also received information via travelling and talking with regular people as if they were having a friendly conversation, or playing with children in parks. (surprisingly effective) However, the Securitate did have military/army designations, such as “Lieutenant”, “Major”, “General”.   My grandfather, one time, in an act of open defiance, actually raised his voice at two agents who were talking on the same line he was using. He knew he was being recorded, but he was trying to conduct business for the day… and the two agents had been making weekend plans… he never heard them again. After the 1989 Revolution (or Coup d’etat), my grandfather continued to openly greet former Securitate members in public by their former designation.  Many of them were old men by the late 90s. He always told me, after we’d part with such people, that I must continue to be careful, lest I be followed, watched and reported on. He frequently insulted them with information he’d obtain through unofficial channels… but although he was offered better pay, positions in the Party and a job, he’d turned it down saying he was “an engineer” and “I am better serving as an engineer for the State”.

 I can and will answer questions about any of this.  (Part two will be at some other point in time... if anyone is interested in reading another 1500 words...)

[coffeeinducedwriting]

Mad Pursuit

My name is Dr. Charles Crowell and I write this letter in great haste, hoping someone will find it and let it be my testament to the world. Like all great scientists and researchers, I committed many atrocities for the pursuit of science and the betterment of all mankind. Under this letter I have placed a book with all of my research notes included. This information is not to be taken lightly and if I wasn’t so terrified of the consequences I would have burned all of my nightmarish research, for I have unleashed unfathomable horrors into this world. The only solace I take is the slight chance that I may be mad. And I pray to some otherworldly power that I am.

              My research started when I was a pre-med student for Miskatonic University Medical School in Arkham back in 1902. My classes didn’t challenge my already sophisticated mind. Biology class was too easy after reading On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin. I needed something to test my mind. It was through a science journal that I learned about a study done in Africa where scientists were able to achieve temporary reanimation of the dead by using electricity. The subjects, human or animal, were able to get up and move, even after death. Unfortunately, there was no brain power or consciousness behind the subject. The subjects didn’t talk and were lifeless still. Hearing this sparked something within me. I believe there is some merit in their research. What the other scientists were missing was chemistry! It is not just calculating the right amount of current that must course through a body to get it to move but to also add essential chemicals to preserve the brain.

I spent most of my time during my undergrad years researching the right chemical mixture to bring someone back from the dead. My beginning experiments were mildly successful with rats. After death they would jump back up. While promising, their movements were violent, and they made the most ghastly of noises. They did this for varying times before succumbing to death once more. My results weren’t consistent but impressive still. This quickly caught the attention of several of my classmates. Several of my classmates approached me about joining my studies. Of the ones interested Dr. James Densmore caught my attention. There was something that I could not place about it, that interested me. Due more to curiosity, I selected him to be my assistant. He wasn’t the most competent of those interested, but I thought he had the most passion for the subject.

When the time came, I was able to procure better test subjects: cats. Before this I had used guinea pigs and noticed that I had to slightly change the quantities of certain chemicals that I used. However, when I used cats, everything changed. My initial measurements were completely wrong. I thought that it was due to the size difference from one subject to another. But instead it was due to the different compositions of their brains. The brain of the guinea pig is much different than the brain of a the cat, for they are more intelligent creatures. It became apparent very quickly that if I wanted to bring back people back from the dead, then I would need human subjects. For the brain of a human is vastly different from the brain of a cat. I would have to redo all my research all over again with each change of species. If my research was to come to any value I would need human subjects, otherwise my measurements were destined to be wrong.

To test this theory, I began to do experiments on different species, birds, pigs, and cows. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get my hands on the quantity of subjects that I needed. While my work was considered exciting by my fellow classmates, the faculty did not respect it. They ridiculed my attempts to cheat death and only thought that I was playing around in a lab coat!  My minor success with rats was considered a party trick at best. And after the set-back I had with larger specimens like the guinea pigs and cats, I was already considered a failure. It did not help that I required freshly killed specimens, so the practicality of my research came to question for some. So, when I asked for more subjects…my request was denied. James and I took to the unpleasant task of gathering our own.

Many family pets went missing that year.

We were also a mild nuisance to most people with our dead animals laying around. Well, I considered us a mild nuisance, others thought we were practically menaces with our morbid work.

My undergrad years flew by rather quickly and in my graduate years I grew evermore impatient. I wanted to test on human cadavers, but the college continuously kept denying my requests. I knew they laughed at me, but I was going to prove them wrong. I was going to reanimate a corpse. For I was smarter than them! Better than them! More capable then them! Throughout my graduate years I felt stifled by the faculty and couldn’t wait to graduate. If it wasn’t for James, I would have dropped out of medical school and started my research sooner. After my first year in the graduate program I grew impatient and hatched a plan to continue with my work without the college knowing. James was hesitant at first, but with a few sugared words and a promise for a better future, I was able to convince him to help me. We found an abandoned cabin outside of prying, suspicious eyes. It wasn’t near any road and the path to it was hard to follow, yet it was the perfect place to conduct our secret studies under the soft moonlight.

We visited the farmhouse at irregular times, trying to make sure no one knew where we were going. If anyone had found out about it, our studies would quickly have been undone. I couldn’t have that. Slowly we filled the farmhouse with chemicals bought from out of town and stolen borrowed lab equipment from the college.

Only once were we able to get our hands on a fresh test-subject. I look back on that day and it still haunts me. I have nightmares from that night.

The subject, we were able to gather was male, early thirties, missing his left pinkie, and died by a knife wound. His body wasn’t perfect for our experiment, but we didn’t have much of a choice. The college was unable to reach his body before he was buried, because his family wanted to cover up the fact that their son had died in gun fight. Embarrassing really, to die by at the hands of one with a knife when you held a gun.

That night, like two pale ghouls, we visited the subject’s grave. We used lamps instead of torchlights because we didn’t want concentrated beam of light straying and alerting others. The faint glow of the lamp was enough when coupled with a sliver of moonlight. The journey to the grave was, in retrospect, uneventful but to us at the time, it was hair-raising. Every second we peered behind our backs to make sure no watchman would see us. To try and make sure no otherworldly power or God was judging us. The scattered graves and overgrowth of the area, while usually nothing more than a nuisance, under the realm of darkness it made everything seem more sinister.

As we approached the grave, we saw the newly dug earth and stared at it for a while. Neither one of us willing to break the sacred ground too hastily. After much trepidation, I was the first one to strike my spade into the ground. It wasn’t too difficult, physically, to dig because at the time we were going through a dry spell. After a few shovelfuls, James joined me in the endeavor. The dirt was grainy and thin and kept getting in our eyes when the wind blew. I distinctly remember hearing the creaking of the chain fence and the rustling of the dry leaves. When we were about halfway through, we both jumped in fear when we hear the tolling of bells. They came from the nearby chapel to indicate that it had struck one in the morning. Under the flickering flames of the lamp, the moment almost felt grisly poetic. Something from a lost chapter of a dark fairytale. After what felt like hours of physical and emotional turmoil, we struck the wooden box. It was poorly made with nails going through it at odd angles and was made with warped, untreated wood. With a crowbar we ripped open the coffin and pulled the stiff corpse out of the box and onto a stretcher we had brought. We made rapid work of replacing the dirt back into the now empty grave. Once done the grave looked untouched and unmoved. No one could possibly suspect that anything was amiss. Our adrenaline was pumping, and we desperately didn’t want to be found stealing a dead body. The groundskeeper was due to come check the area soon, by our paranoid-addled brains. With the dirt moved we started moving the subject out of the graveyard. We moved slowly because the stretcher was slightly torn on the top right side. We couldn’t risk the subject falling off and making a noise, perhaps alerting someone to our sins.

As we tried to walk away from the unholy gravesite we thought we heard a noise approaching us. It must be the watchman, we thought! We shakingly blew out our lamp and as quickly as possible tried to move off the path and hide behind some gravestones. We held our breath and hoped he would not find us. Being caught would mean not only expulsion from the college but several years of jail time. I couldn’t possibly live with the idea of losing years of important research time. Thankfully it was nothing more than our shaky nerves. For it was just the wind rustling some leaves of a nearby tree. We laughed with relief and finished heading out.

I remember that these were times when graverobbing was the worst thing either of us had done. That it wasn’t routine or robotic to do. Times when we didn’t have the schedule of the grave keeper memorized. Times when I didn’t aimlessly wander the site because of my troubled mind. Times when we didn’t know the gravestones by name. Always searching for a new one to plunder.

We arrived at our secret cabin and dropped our heavy burden onto the lab table. I had already created the chemical serum, but I needed to make adjustments, now that I knew the exact weight and height of the man before us. While I was doing this, I remember James asking me about the souls of the dead. Would they come back whole? I had laughed at his handsome face! There was no such thing as souls or an afterlife! They were things that the stupid and blind believed because they didn’t trust science. A dead body was simply a machine with a few non-working parts. If we can get them recharged and restarted there should be no consequence to it. I was never a religious man. Back then I believed that I had the world figured out, but today I am unsure. I still don’t believe in souls or any Gods, but I do believe in powers and science that we do not understand. I know that I must have created something beyond my control that night.

With trembling hands and throbbing heart, I started to sew up the body. The knife wound was deep. It felt wrong to do surgery on a dead body. Nothing moves as it’s supposed to. The blood was already congealed. This was necessary because once the subject was alive he would start to bleed through the wound again if it wasn’t stitched properly. Once everything was ready, under the light of a lamp, I carefully injected my chemical solution into the subject’s head. This was something that required the most precision and I didn’t trust James’ unsteady hands to do the experiment properly. Though to be truthful my hands were shaking at the time from a mixture of fear and excitement. I then administered a small electric shock to restart the heart. The body violently spasmed. Then stopped. I administered another, stronger shock. Sparks flew off his body. Again, he moved briefly but stopped. His body started to turn black as it began to char. The smell of burning flesh began to fill the room and choke us. But we wouldn’t give up.  

Shocking him one last time, we anxiously waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing seemed to happen. Disappointed, I went to go grab my notes, to see where I went wrong. Everything was perfect! I wasn’t going to get another opportunity like this!

But with a thunk, we hear the subject move. We both excitedly rushed over to him. To see what he knew. To see if our experiment was successful. To see if we had indeed cheated death! His eyes opened up, glazed over and dark like an abyss. He opens his mouth, and lets out the most unholy, animalistic scream. Sounds came out of him that could not possibly be human. The room was filled with screams of several people, even though both James and I were too terrified to make a sound. Those screams were demonic in nature. He started to violently jerk around but didn’t seem to be able to stand yet! His black eyes stared me down and seemed to stare straight through me. He looked as if he had seen unnamable horrors. In our terror, we both began to stumble out of the building. James tripped over the lamp and fire spilled out it. My papers acted as kindling and soon the entire cabin caught aflame. James and I didn’t stop and continued running back to town. Only until we get back into town and in the safety in our dorm room, we were able to gather our wits. Neither one of us was willing to go back to the cabin. It must have been burnt to the ground. It was the dry season, there was no way our creation was able to make it out of the cabin in time. His body was already disposed of. No one would know who he was. He would be too scarred. We reasoned that it would be suspicious to go back and check on the cabin and that he had to be dead again. None of our previous experiments “lived” past a few hours. We had just been shocked, that was all, we reasoned. Though that night, neither of us slept. We desperately hoped for daylight but at the same time dreaded it. Would anyone know what we did? Would the police come charging through our door, and arrest us for the cabin fire?

Morning came. It was cloudy and gray as if the day too had to be dragged out. But nothing happened. No monsters attacked us. No police officers stopped us. We were safe right? The event wouldn’t have been burned into my mind except for two things. Two articles in the weekly news. Two supposedly unrelated articles. The first one was that the old cabin had caught on fire and that it had burned to the ground, but it didn’t mention if there was a body found. The second article shouldn’t have existed. It stated that the local graveyard had been vandalized that same night. Several graves had been partly dug up. This included our subject’s. The article stated that it had been unusual because it wasn’t dug by any animal the local police could identify. In fact, it looked almost as if SOMEONE had tried to dig a hole with their own hands. James and I had been at the graveyard that night. We had left it’s grave in perfect condition. We saw no animals or anyone else. Surely it couldn’t be possible? That our creation had made its way back. Had escaped? That it tried desperately to find its own grave? These questions still plague my mind. Today I truly believe that it did. Because ever since that day, I have never felt safe. I hear footsteps behind me, all the time. They are always off by a fraction of a second, but they are not mine…

…..

End of Part One

[2017mdia4120-blog]

Kimberly Reynolds, Assignment #1. 01/13/17

Part 1 

What are your earliest 2 memories of social media use by     

You

My earliest and salient memory of social media was around the age of 12 or 13. At this time, in grade school, AIM messaging was very popular and widely used amongst my classmates and fiends. I can distinctly remember hanging out one evening in a friend’s basement and we were AIM chatting with some male classmates and one asked a friend of mine to the school dance. It was an exciting time at 13. I also distinctly remember when Facebook gained popularity around the same time. While I did not sign up for Facebook until I was 18, I remember looking at my friends’ profiles and admiring the photos and statuses. 

A Family Member

My earliest memory of a family member using social media was when my mother first demonstrated to me what texting was. She had a prepaid phone where each letter of a text message cost one minute. I remember this moment as very exciting and profound. My second memory was when my mother joined Facebook. She signed up earlier before me and I too remember getting familiar with the interface and she often spoke of the the strangeness associated with “friending” former classmates whom she hasn’t spoken to in over 20 years.

2. Who/what/when     was the first blogger you subscribed to or read regularly? Why did you     read that blog? What are your reflections on that experience? How are the     blogs you read today similar/different?

I never read or subscribed to a blogger and still do not, however, my earliest memory of subscribing to a vlogger was youtube sensation Fred. His videos became very popular when I was grade school and my friends and I loved the series he did. This reflects my former love of pop and mainstream culture and interest in sensationalism. I really enjoyed his videos and now serve as a funny and slightly regrettable memory and obsession. I still do not follow any bloggers, but I do subscribe to Democracy NOW! While this is a very obvious stark change in content, my viewing habits have not changed. I watch the news program everyday and re watch great interviews or clips as I find them poignant, funny, or relevant. Therefore, while my interests changed and I matured, my affinity for video content has not changed.

3. What have you done so far to prepare yourself for a career involving social     media?

In preparation for a career in social media, I have taken on two significant and professional positions in social media as well as have developed discipline in keeping up with social media news and popular culture. In my two internship positions, I served as the social media manager of a large institution’s social media accounts. At Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, I managed my department’s Facebook and Twitter accounts, which involved curating content and live tweeting our festival shows. Here at Ohio University, I am the social media manager of the Scripps College of Communication and my sole responsibility is to act autonomously and develop content and manage the college’s Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. In addition, in this position, I generate analytics reports on a monthly basis. Outside of professional experience, I subscribe to newsletters and keep up with social media trends, tools, and general news.

Part 2

Consider how technological innovations & economic forces (e.g., social network corporations) might present consumers with opportunities to influence social media worlds, sometimes with unintended consequences. For example, breakthrough technologies such as immersive media have the capacity to transform social networking platforms radically. User practices will continue to make a substantial impact on how we experience the social world & what it means to us. Your job:

On     your own, identify 3 situations in which users have shaped social     networks, their practices, or technological advances around them, etc.     Think about what you already know. Find information you don’t already     have. Generally, be curious & creative in your thinking. Summarize.     (Source your research.) What lessons does each of your examples have to     offer?

Most recently and perhaps most relevantly, the surge and concerns of “fake news” has proven to be very influential in shaping the content of Facebook specifically. As noted by many analysts and reporters, the political climate of Facebook and lack of verified stories and statements played a large roe in the election of Donald Trump. NPR journalist, Laura Sydell, (2016) decided to track down and interview a creator of fake news in the suburbs of LA. In this interview piece, Sydell and her team interviewed 40-year-old, married man Jestin Coler to ask why he created an

incredibly viral fake news article with the headline “FBI Agent Suspected In Hillary Email Leaks Found Dead In Apparent Murder-Suicide”. Coler said that he created the story to prove the ludicrous values and beliefs held by the alt-right. In doing this however, he legitimized and contributed a whole system of fake news that worked to slander both candidates.  

Source: http://www.npr.org/sections/alltechconsidered/2016/11/23/503146770/npr-finds-the-head-of-a-covert-fake-news-operation-in-the-suburbs

A second example of users utilizing and personalizing technologies can be observed here at Ohio University. Earlier this year, MDIA grad student, Abbie Doyle published a video about political opinions, all shot in 360. This technology is incredibly accessible and Abbie utilized it in such a way that demonstrated the versatile possibilities of the medium. She filmed inside of meetings as well as outside during rallies and demonstrations. In conjunction with the 360, she used subtext and audio to round everything out.

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9_lRxdOMu0

Lastly, Ohio University again is proving to shape the uses of technologies for unique and productive purposes. The Immersive Media Initiative here at Ohio University has partnered with the college of arts and sciences as well the college of health sciences and professions to create immersive medical experience to train aspiring physicians and health care administrators. Over the summer, the IMI shot an 360 video of an emergency room and operating room at a hospital in Ohio. In shooting this video, the students and director, Eric Williams, adjusted the content to be viewed in virtual reality. This project has the potential to help student have a more meaningful, clear, didactic, and sensory experience in preparation for operation in their professions

Source: http://www.thepostathens.com/article/2017/01/virtual-reality-healthcare-ohio-university

 2. Then  look toward the future. Make 3 sound predictions about users’     contributions to social networking as we will know it. Explain your     predictions in detail. Rely on careful logic. Use research to educate     yourself on possible development of technological innovation &/or     economic structures (& source what you find to undergird your     explanation). Think creatively.

One prediction I have about social networking is the increased use and interest in virtual reality. One example of this already occurring can be viewed in music. Bands like Cage the elephant filmed their rehearsal in 360 video, while Donald Glover is releasing a vinyl and album that is virtual realty centered. In addition, I believe virtual reality will be integrated more and more into classroom settings. This is greatly a class-based predication, i.e. schools with access and resources will lead this trend, but I predict that it will be incorporated in certain subjects. For example, a recent research project compared and analyzed the effects of learning a language in a traditional classroom setting and in a virtual reality setting. The study demonstrated that there was enthusiasm amongst the students to communicate and interact in virtual reality with a person who spoke the desired learned language. However, much more research is needed to prove the effectiveness of virtual reality. Therefore, I think the use and adaptation to virtual reality will be an increased trend.

Source: http://pitchfork.com/news/70117-childish-gambino-selling-virtual-reality-awaken-my-love-vinyl/.

Tsun-Ju, L., & Yu-Ju, L. (2015). Language Learning in Virtual Reality Environments: Past, Present, and Future. Journal Of Educational Technology & Society, 18(4), 486-497.

 Another prediction I have about social media is the whole integration of technologies in our lives. This can be demonstrated in wearable technology. I predict that certain devices will be phased out and and rendered too inconvenient. I believe that projecting one’s phone onto one’s wrist via a watch or seeing the interface of a device in one’s glasses are the first steps in eliminating the hardware all together. While this integration for me seems troubling, it has proven to be beneficial in other cases. For example, the International Business Times and Yahoo News reported that in a recent study at Standford, one of the participants was diagnosed with Lyme disease as a result of his wearable technology. The participant’s bracelet alerted him of irregular changes to his breathing and blood pressure. Therefore, this serves as an example about how the advancement of technology can make lives more efficient while also raising philosophical questions about humanity.

Source: http://www.ibtimes.co.uk/wearable-technology-knows-youre-ill-before-you-do-1600935

 Lastly, I predict that media and technology will both propel a generation into creativity as well as economically devastate large portions of the United States population. One piece I found particularly poignant was that of BBC. Author Rachel Nuwer points out that while technology is flourishing and being incorporated into workplaces, automation could severely devastate a large proportion of workers: truck drivers. According to BBC and NPR, trucking driving is the most popular profession in 29 states, greatly due to the sustainable wages and accessibility. While the efficiency of self driving cars is alluring, it can have serious tangible consequences that outrun the solution, and until there is either an overhaul in job training or a sustainable, economically just system that does not exploit and underscore working people and human beings, then this will continue to be a concern. On the other side of the coin, media and technology could propel people into being creative. This could be motivated by interest and creativity or by the fear of automation, and  while one reason in more malicious, the result is the same. One result of this could be the increased interest in social media careers or event the advent of social media centered courses of study. Rather than using social media solely, user and scholar alike have developed discourse, careers, and opportunities to craft and create media.

source: http://www.bbc.com/news/technology-34066941

http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2015/07/world-without-work/395294/