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overdrivels · 4 years

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Even more unsolicited resume advice

Corona has probably hit a lot of people hard and it has been a tough time for everyone, especially people who just left college to enter the work force or have been out of a job and had been looking to get back into the force. While this might not solve much, I want to provide some additional advice piggy-backing off a previous post.

Again, Your Mileage May Vary (YMMV) since this is entirely subjective and very US-centric. A lot of the resumes that come across my desk are for specialized jobs and higher-levels, so I’ve had a bit of a disconnect with entry-level and recent grad-level resumes. Regardless, I still want to help answer some questions that people have and hopefully give a bit of a push to help you into the jobs you want.

There’s more of this sort of stuff under the tag: ‘adult drivels’.

"What do I write for my Objectives/Summary of Qualifications?"

To be very honest, I only ever see Objectives from people trying to switch careers or from internship/entry-level resumes. At least 98% of the time, we know what your objective is. It's money. I don't care if the objective is to help save the world--believe me, I've seen enough resumes that say something along those lines (worked at a place that kind of championed that and boy is the reality nasty).

Anyway. Write a short paragraph (usually 2-3 sentences, but no longer than a full paragraph) about your skillset. Give me enough detail to want to read the rest of your resume.

Examples:

Finance student with 2 years volunteer experience in business accounting, correspondences with the Federal Reserve, and federal financial law. Specializes in XYZ, etc.

I couldn't make this any more detailed, but you get the gist of it. If not, here's another one.

Recent college graduate with experience in freelance computer repairs for Windows, Mac, and RedHat Linux. Customer-oriented from # years in customer service, and willing to learn new things especially more about network infrastructure and engineering. Currently studying to pass Network and looking to pass Security+ within the next year.

This is just a personal nitpick, but be careful with very subjective character traits like ‘loyal’ or ‘hard-working’ or ‘effective leader’. Anyone can put that on a resume, but I need you to prove it in your resume. Some industries like this sort of self-description/self-evaluation, but I really don’t trust when people write that stuff down.

(Ex. Someone wrote they were detail-orientated and their resume was littered with typos. Mm, don’t trust like that.)

"I don't know what to write for my job experience. I don't have sales numbers or percentages like these websites are telling me."

You do. You have them, just not consciously.

You worked at Starbucks and trained newcomers? Fine.

"Trained ## new hires on all store procedures, safety, and customer service, and one was promoted to store manager with # months/one new hire won Employee of the Month/and I received formal recognition from corporate."

"Created new training plan/procedures/whatever and implemented it over the course of # months, reducing the time needed for training and increasing effectiveness."

Didn't work at Starbucks? Just joined a club and helped organize a bake sale? Cool.

"Sold $# worth of merchandise for [school club] [sale] which contributed to #% increase in funding for the year's activities, allowing the club to do XYZ.

Don't have the percentage? Do a reasonable guess, or ask. Or just say it helped you guys earn your field trip to wherever. Whatever it helped do.

Didn’t do anything involving cash or numbers? No problem.

“Tutored # students at least # times a week in [subject], working with them using different teaching methods such as [example] and [example]; # students were able to pass their courses with satisfactory grades (insert grades somewhere, if you’re proud of that).”

The point is: [Action] --> [Result].

What did you do, specifically? And what was the direct result? That’s what I’m looking for.

“But I’ve never held a job. This’ll be my first one. How do I write my resume?”

That’s always tough. In this case, you’ll have to play on anything you do have. Volunteer work, school activities, extracurricular activities, personal projects, awards, personal achievements, etc. Sometimes people go for a skills-oriented resume which I don’t actually see a lot.

Basically, standard resumes have your regular stuff:

Personal Information

Summary of Qualifications/Objectives

Education

Job Experiences in chronological order

Extracurricular Activities

Skills

Awards/Certifications

Whatever else

A skills based resume usually replaces the ‘Jobs’ section with a huge-ass ‘Skills Set’ section which contains several main skills you want to highlight for the job and examples of how you demonstrated these skills.

Communication

- Corresponded and tutored students struggling in [subject] class, restructuring and explaining lessons using easy-to-understand anecdotes, resulting in students passing the class with scores of no less than a B. (This is lengthy as fuck, but you get the idea.)

- Successfully led one 24-person raid a month for 2 years in an online game where quick and clear communication and timing was vital.

So, that but multiple times until it fills out your resume.

This goes against my personal opinion about subjective traits, but if it works, it works.

“Anything else?”

I turn my entire Word document into a table for formatting and then just hide all borders when I’m done.

Always, always export to PDF and do a test print. You never know how it’ll look on someone else’s screen or program. (Especially if you have LibreOffice or something, that really messed up the formatting sometimes.)

I kind of like Google’s resumes, the one they have in Google doc templates.

To make different things stand out, I mess with fonts. Like sans serif for section titles and with serif for body text. Sometimes I just start going nuts with them, but not too nuts because again, it might not be a font on someone else’s computer.

To test the visual appeal of my resume, I’d usually print it out, paste it on a wall, walk away, turn around, and try to see if I can spot my name and the different section breaks instantly from a distance. If I can’t, I know I fucked up. If I can, great, formatting is clean. One thing I hate as an interviewer is searching through walls of text for important info or section breaks.

If you can, only submit as PDF. I swear, half the time, the Word doc gets mangled by the application platform that people send them through (you know, the automatic uploading thing?) It had definitely cost a few good candidates a job simply because the program mangled the resume’s formatting.

Following these steps still won’t necessarily get you the job. This is cruel, but reality. It could be your resume. It could be just because the role is meant for someone else with a different skillset. It’s not personal. You have to keep trying.

For the last time, TAILOR, TAILOR, TAILOR. You’re fighting with about 30 other people who have put in a hell of a lot of effort to get jobs. They also want the job and have been searching just as long or longer than you. You have to give yourself an edge by not blasting a generic version of your resume at the recruiter. That’s wasting our time and your own time.

Again, all of these opinions are my own and should be taken with a handful of salt and two handfuls of personal judgement.

Good luck on your searches and may the job you want be yours.

#adult drivels

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sgnserena · 4 years

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* TASK 001 ___ GENERAL PHONE QUESTIONS ;

what kind of cell phone do you have? : — iphone 11 pro in gold, with a black and gold marble case

how often do you use your cell phone? : — an average amount as most her age do

what is your phone’s lock screen photo? : — above ( left ), one of her most liked photos on her instagram from last year

what is your phone’s home screen photo? : — above ( right ), she likes to be ~ aesthetic ~ kind of.

how many contacts do you have in your phone? : — she doesn’t keep count but she’s sure it’s a lot — she doesn’t delete contacts, unless you’ve done her wrong, and that’s mainly because someone could possibly be of use one day.

do you customize contact names or enter as given names? : — mostly customized with different ‘codenames’ that she gives people. if you’re special, she’ll use your actual name and an emoji since it’s easier for her to look up.

what is their default ringtone? : — she would have it to something fun like ‘there some hoes in the house’ beat from wap — cardi b feat. megan thee stallion, but she’s afraid of having it go off while she’s on a date with her sugar daddies. because of that, it’s currently the mighty morphin power rangers theme song. y’know, something more family friendly.

do you have personalized ringtones for your contacts or does everyone use the default ringtone? : — default ringtone, she can’t be fucked to give people personal ones.

how many alarms do you have set and why? : — she has 4 alarms total; one set up 10 minutes before she needs to get up for her monday & wednesday classes, then another set for the time she has to get up. it’s the same for her tuesday & thursday classes as well — she doesn’t have class on fridays. she doesn’t have a hard time getting up in the mornings, but she likes to take those 10 minutes to prepare herself for the day.

what are your top 3 most used apps? : — imessage, seekingarrangement, calendar app

what are your favorite apps? : — burner app ; also one of her most used -- do you think she’s going to give these old ass men her actual phone number? absolutely not. on top of that, she loves the fact that she can just delete a phone number and get a new one at the blink of an eye in case something goes wrong. best money she’s ever spent on an app — helix waltz ; a guilty pleasure that she’ll probably never tell most, but it’s a dress up game that she loves to play during her downtime. she ... may have spent an unhealthy amount of money on power ups and outfits as well.

— cash app ; nothing beats an notification that states that money has been sent to your cash app tbh, the best way to get her excited.

what are your last 3 google searches or the last 3 things you’ve asked your built in ai? : — what does 개이득 mean — veterinary grad school application fee — how bad do pleaser shoes hurt

do you delete your internet search history or use incognito mode? if so, how often, and why? : — no, because she doesn’t feel the need to. no one else is using her phone besides her, so she isn’t afraid of what comes up on her searches.

do you download music or use a streaming app? if so, which one and why? : — streaming app, she uses spotify because the curated playlists are too good to pass up. if you see ads for lingerie on her phone, then maybe you’re too damn close in the first place.

what are the last 3 songs you’ve listen to on your phone? : — ungodly hour — chloe & halle — all night — bree runway — react — the pussycat dolls

what does your photo album consist of? : — an amalgam of so many things ; selfies that she’s made hyungwon take of her, class notes / slides that she couldn’t write down fast enough, pictures of stray cats and dogs she happens to see ( and videos of her trying to lure them back with her ), funny screenshots of messages from seeking arrangement / instagram dms / tinder, drunken videos, thirst traps and nsfw pictures ( use your imagination 👀 ), and pictures of nature & the sky.

what is your texting style? do you reply quickly or are you a slow texter? do you send several messages at a time or paragraphs? : — an average texting time, though she will reply quicker if you’re a close friend. she actually hates people that send 50 texts at a time, as it makes her worried that something’s wrong -- so she tries to send as less texts as possible. definitely a paragraph girl.

what are the last 3 texts you’ve sent? : — hyungwon ; “ don’t @ me but what do i have to do to get you to watch the sonic movie with me? ” — sugar daddy #2 ; “ are you at a meeting? i have a little something i want to show you 👀👅 ” — hyunjoo ; “ do you feel better now? “

who do you text the most? : — sugar daddy #2 & hyungwon. sugar daddy #2 is the clingy type and wants constant communication. she honestly can’t stand it but she plays up the manic pixie dream girl role he expects of her and he pays very handsomely, so it’s all worth it.

what are your top 6 used emojis? : — 🤔🥴💩😒👅💕 — the last one is for her sugar daddies, naturally.

how often do you call others? : — hardly. she doesn’t see the need since text is faster, and she genuinely does not like speaking on the phone. she’ll only call if you’re a sugar daddy that requires it, if it’s an emergency, or if you’re running late to something with her. or if she’s drunk. drunk serena adores phone calls since texting is hard.

who where the last 3 calls made to and why? : — sugar daddy #2 ; again, the clingy type who wanted to speak to her after class. — a professor ; she wanted to speak about her letters of recommendation for grad school — grandmother ; she missed her call so naturally she returned it back, they talked about how things were going for her and how they miss each other

who do you call the most? : — her sugar daddies. a lot of them still prefer phone calls over texts, which she assumes is a generational thing.

do you have someone blocked? if so, who and why? : — she only has one number blocked, and it was guy who kind of turned into a stalker. she ended up getting one of her ripped guy friends from the gym on him and threatened him with a knife to get him to back off, but she’s still slightly afraid that he’s still out there somewhere.

are you apart of any group chats? with who? : — volleyball group chat & student government group chat. she usually takes a back seat within group chats to begin with.

do you use the notes app? : — yes, but she mainly uses it as a to do list or somewhere to keep passwords and other important things she might forget.

#sgn:task01 #sgnwonnie #sgnhyunjoo #* b/c mentioned #* also listen don't @ me for doing this last minute LOL #* or how the calendar app date is wrong i cbf fjdsklfjs

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years

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NAVY SEALS AND NEUROSURGERY RESIDENTS SEEM SLACKERS BY COMPARISON

How would Apple like it if when they discovered a serious bug in OS X, instead of releasing a software update immediately, they had a different goal. In the best case these two suggestions get combined: you tell visitors what your site is about. But I think the way to a great product, how do you know it's not 70%? The surprising thing is how many, and how well, languages can be described this way. Which can be transformed into: If you pitch your idea to a random person, 95% of the time we were all, students and teachers both, just going through the motions. One day, we'd think of ourselves as the next Google and dream of buying islands; the next, and decided to just work as hard as I could till I'd made enough to solve the problem once and for all. They can't dilute you without diluting themselves just as much. By obstructing that process, Apple is making them do bad work, and programmers hate that as much as you want, really in the blink of an eye. As far as I know has a serious girlfriend, and everything they own will fit in one car—or more precisely, archive, in the aggregate, make more money by doing the right thing. The empirical evidence on that is already clear: investors make more money than they have in the past. The future turned out to be flaky, high-maintenance investors.

The stated purpose of schools is to educate the kids. Email is not a business where you make money by screwing people over. I've seen a lot of money to implement it. It's hard to predict how big a role luck plays. No web startup does. They'll like you even better when you hit ramen profitability. This process is not just something happening now in Silicon Valley significantly wider. And all the work we did was pointless, or seemed so at the time was that she was surprised. Why would you want to take on a problem as big as Apple. Most people reading this will already be onto them.

Could anyone make a device that you'd carry around in your pocket like a phone, and yet pay a higher price for them. There are a lot of ambitious people will start them, and this bit of the economy tend to be pushing the limits of whatever you're doing. Because we're relaxed, it's so much easier to have fun doing what we do. Assuming your product doesn't experience the explosive growth that very few products do, everything from development to dealmaking especially dealmaking seems to take 2-3x longer than I always imagine. One founder put it very succinctly: Fast iteration is the key to success. A woman I know says that in high school she liked nerds, but was afraid to be seen talking to them because the other kids in junior high school, with all the same. Of course, what shows up on the radar screen may be different from what? Speaking of cool places to work, if you mistreat the founders you invest in, they'll just get demoralized and the company will do worse.

And by far the best place to work, if you have to spend years cooped up together with nothing real to do. But, like us, they don't like to dwell on this depressing fact, and they don't see evidence of specific abuses unless they go looking for problems without knowing what you're looking for. The other reason Apple should care what programmers think of them is that when you sell a platform, developers make or break you. How hard it is to judge startup ideas, because their subconscious filters them out. They did it because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too quick. Empirically, the way to the top: The surprise for me was how accessible important and interesting people are. This is especially true for a service that other companies can use, because it never stops.

For example, if you want to make large numbers of users love you than a lot of investors and founders, they'll send deals your way. I am daily waiting for the school bus, and was so shocked that the next day she devoted the whole class to an eloquent plea not to be ground down by it, just as we do for the generations that lived before anaesthesia and antibiotics. When you're a kid and you face some hard test, you may as well do what he asks, because he is not going away. The standard plan was to try to identify a precise point in the future, the trend to bet on any one feature or deal or anything to bring you success. Sure, go off and get jobs or go to grad school. And if teenagers respected adults more then, because the number of startups is so unpredictable that you need to be able to use it themselves, and that means building an iPhone app. Sometimes you hear people saying All these guys starting startups now are going to push you in a startup you feel like a little bit of debris blown about by powerful winds. They would be in the way in an office.

They do it because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were too slow to release stuff, and none because they were afraid of Google, and Google was in the search business. Around the age of startup founders goes from a friendship to a marriage. You can thus gradually work your way into their confidence, and maybe turn it into an official job later, or not, but somehow events overwhelm them and they get discouraged and give up, and made up by people no different from you. If you're the rare exception—a company that would become big. You need more control of a development machine? Anyone who has used the web for more than a couple hundred serious angels in the whole Valley, and yet when I describe these ideas you may notice you find yourself shrinking away from them. Nor does it harm you in the real world is that it's tested more severely than in most other countries. Think about your own experience: most links you follow lead to something lame. There is always room for new stuff.

The most important is to explain, as concisely as possible, what the hell your site is catching on, or it isn't, and you must know which. Like a lot of founders are surprised by it. But that isn't true; they are not ordinary people. Most applications—most startups, probably—grow out of personal projects. The way I've described it, starting a startup. Pretty soon you'll start noticing what makes the number go up, and they'll be left wishing they'd bought you earlier. They make such great stuff. I was trying to be with the App Store. VCs seem formidable is that it's tested more severely than in most other situations.

The kids who got praised for these qualities tended to be followed only by outsiders. The best ideas are just on the right side of impossible. It means he makes up his mind quickly, and follows through. Algol isn't good enough at manipulating arrays. What about angels? We know this continued to be true up till 2004, when the Facebook was founded—though it seems even that should be: and the reason I can't believe it will be over quickly. Humans like to work; in most of our lives when the days go by in a blur, and almost everyone has a sense, when this happens, of wasting something precious. Maybe one day a heavily armed force of adults will show up in helicopters to rescue you, but you can't expect to hit that right away. The better they are, they're not even fun.

Thanks to Zak Stone, Jessica Livingston, and Dan Giffin for sharing their expertise on this topic.

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whirlybirbs · 6 years

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studying.

pairing: college!peter x reader rating: all audiences welcome to this fluff what to listen to: roll up by fitz & the tantrums a/n: for the anons who gave me some ideas, here is the start of a potential series? or, as i would say, peter crushes on his TA.

After months of applications and tours and accepted student days, Peter had finally settled on MIT.

(It had helped that Tony had written his recommendation letter. A lot.)

September brings a new leaf.

Peter trades in the hustle and bustle for NYC for that of Boston. It is less shiny, less new. He likes it though; likes the cobblestone, the spirit, the history and the rhythmic rattle of the T under the Kendell stop. The late summer breeze is crisp as Peter shrugs his hoodie on, bagel dangling from his mouth as he chews and launches himself up the steps towards the quad.

His sense are in a haywire; it is the new environment. His sunglasses are maybe a little darker than they should be.

A week ago, his phone had been buzzing with kissy emoji from Aunt May, a good luck text from Tony and of course Ned -- his friend had settled in only a few T stops away at Harvard. The first day of classes had come and gone, bringing it with it an overwhelming sense of belonging. For once, Peter didn’t feel like an outlier.

The only text Peter is paying attention to this morning is yours, though.

pls help me study for my bio quiz later, peter, i am begging u

It makes him laugh. Peter grins, dimples digging in a little bit as he settles into a quick pace. Strawberry converse beat against the jagged cobblestone.

I mean, he wasn’t going to lie to himself -- you were, like, gorgeous. And funny. And you thought it was cool that he’d binged the entirety of Jason Todd and the Outlaws in one night. The fact that you’d excitedly added him on Facebook last Friday after class was enough; he’d messaged you, asking if avoiding the chicken at McCormick was a smart move.

You were a sophomore. You knew the ropes. Peter is totally using it as an excuse.

it’s literally the second week??? who is giving quizzes already??? who’s THAT evil???

You’re laughing, crossing the quad on the opposite side of campus when you get his texts.

It was only happenstance you two started to become friends. His first class, an 8:30am entry-level history course run by Professor Frankfurt (which was really just one big Captain America fanboy session) happened to be the class you’d decided to TA for -- and in turn, the class you’d first met Peter in. Forced to sit front row after arriving late -- he’d had trouble finding the Tang Auditorium -- he ended up being the one to sit next to you.

He was wearing a Saint Motel t-shirt. You’d stopped him after class, nervously chirping your admiration of that particular album. He’d stuttered in surprise. You were a little mortified, mostly since you had realize how pretty he was. He had big brown eyes and dimples. Dimples.

From that point forward, it was like you couldn’t escape him. He joined the Broadcasting club -- and you’d laughed out loud when he walked through the door wearing a different Saint Motel t-shirt. Comic Roundtable wasn’t safe either, as Peter Parker had suddenly become the fresh face among the small club of eight. It truly culminated when you realized Peter had taken up residency on Danny’s floor -- the R.A. was a fellow Anthropology major, and one of your closest friends.

So, yeah, texting him and asking for help on a Gen Ed Bio course quiz was kind of pushing it. You wanted to hate Peter, honestly -- as a freshman he’d already met a handful of prerequisites through his famed Stark Internship, working his way through a good half of the first year Computer Science and Molecular Biology course load. The air at MIT was competitive, but for some reason Peter didn’t feed into it. You felt okay admitting a fault.

It wasn’t like you were going to go to Academic Computing. They’d definitely roast you for not understanding cell structure and osmosis and all that other shit. You were an Anthropology and American History double major for god’s sake. You didn’t need that stuff in your brain. You needed room for other things.

So, you text Peter back.

it’s prof steck. don’t play urself. stay away from her. but is that a yes??? bc if it is i’ll swipe for u at baker!!!

Peter’s slipping through the auditorium doors when he texts you back.

Your phone buzzes on your desk, and you laugh a little when you read the message.

only if u buy me mozzerella stix!!!!

He shoulders you as he sits down. The touch is enough to light up Peter’s nervous system; he ignores the happy tingle that creeps up his back.

The stack of graded papers is jostled a bit by the movement -- Frankfurt had done an assessment on Wednesday, intending to get a gage for what he was working with in the class. So much for syllabus week. You, of course, had been tasked with grading. Not that you minded, though, it had distracted you from asking Peter to come out with you on Saturday night.

“You know,” you chirp, “Baker has make your own stir fry tonight...”

“No way!” Peter’s voice clips a bit, high and excited, “Then forget the fried cheese sticks, buy me stir fry.”

“Only if you don’t make fun of me,” you hum, rolling your eyes a little, “This quiz on is the simple stuff and I don’t know why, I just don’t get it.”

“Well,” Peter chides, settling back in his seat. His fingers dance across the trackpad of his laptop, waking it up, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

You deadpan.

Peter grins. It’s toothy.

“Is that what the Stark Internship taught you?”

His laugh is boyish. Those dimples are back. Your chest caves a bit, face hot with a gooey expression. What the hell is wrong with you? Going gaga over a freshman?

“Naw, memes taught me that one.”

“Oh,” you wave your hands as Professor Frankfurt throws himself into the auditorium in a huff, “Even better.”

You’re both silenced into a hush as the rest of the first year class follows suit. Professor Frankfurt calls roll. Your name is called after Peter’s. You hand out the exams, and then sit beside Peter for the rest of the class, basking in the warm glow of his semi-permanent smile.

“You know it’s not a date, right?”

Your roommate has her fists halfway into a family sized bag of doritos. Netflix glows from the top bunk. You’re fixing your hair in the mirror hanging on the door.

“I know, but,” you sigh, “He’s cute.”

“He’s a freshman,” she waves as The Office drones on, “He’s fresh meat -- dead in the water. That’s social suicide, you know. At least wait until after Rush Week.”

“Peter doesn’t seem like the fraternity type.”

“Yikes.”

“That’s not a bad thing!” you huff, tugging your hair up and away, “Seriously, there’s a reason why you keep getting your heart broken by dumb boys.”

“Is it because I have an affinity for beefy rich assholes named Brad?”

“That’ll do it, honestly.”

“Fair enough,” she tosses a grin your way, “Good luck on your dinner date with Peter.”

“It’s not a date!”

It’s not a date.

Totally not?

Why is he so nervous?

Oh god, his hands are sweating.

“I’ll have the sweet and tangy sauce, please.”

The box of stir fry is handed to him -- you’re already digging in with a goofy grin on your face. You much on the lo mein noodles happily. You’re covering your own nervousness well. Thank god for deodorant because Peter has you sweating -- literally. It had climbed into the high 70s by late afternoon, leaving Parker in a t-shirt that seemed too tight to be legal and a pair of shorts. He was tan. And he had freckles. Everywhere.

Your hair is swept into hazy curls by the late summer heat. Peter watches the curls along the back of your neck as you both work your way through the check out in the dining hall.

You both make your way to the Hayden Library, strides slow. The sky looks gold, and the clouds glow in the deep blue of the September evening. Traffic drums on, but you both are locked into conversation. Nothing is breaking it -- not even the wave of friends across the street.

“So, New York, huh?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, taking a bite from his takeout container, “My Aunt told me that if I ever went to a Red Sox game, she’d murder me in cold blood.”

“Yikes,” you chatter, “You’re missing out -- I mean, no Big Papi anymore, but Hanley Ramirez is a big deal. Be a shame if you never saw him play in Boston.”

“Are you trying to convince me to go to a Red Sox game?” Peter’s voice hitches, “Because that’s not happening.”

“C’mon, the Yankees suck,” your smile is challenging and Peter laugh as you take a few steps ahead, turning around to watch him as you skip backwards, “Turn to the dark side, Peter! It’s more fun! We have a green monster.”

“I think I’d rather take the Hulk, honestly.”

“Me too,” you wink, “Bruce Banner is an absolute babe.”

Peter laughs at that -- loud and rowdy in the late summer heat. It’s intoxicating.

Your takeaway boxes have been abandoned, licked clean, in favor of a biology textbook and notepads. Though, it wasn’t a welcome abandonment. You wanted to pull your hair out. It showed.

Your lips are pulled into a pout. Peter watches your brows screw together. The study room is filled with the chatter of a Bio101 Youtube video he’d pulled up, hoping to explain osmosis and semipermeable membranes and the importance of saline.

“See?” Peter’s pen taps the screen, “From high to low!”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“Sounds fake,” you hum, mushing your cheeks together as you lean on the wooden table, “But okay.”

“It’s not fake! It’s science.”

“So,” you lean back, waving your fingers, “... magic?”

“Basically,” Peter shrugs, “My formal title after grad school will be Wizard.”

“I want to be a wizard.”

“Then --”

“And make this whole quiz disappear.”

Peter drops his head into his hands, laughing softly as he rubs his brows together. You were getting it, albeit slowly. He couldn’t say he really minded losing his Monday night to you -- in fact, he found himself enjoying this a little bit too much. Your knee brushes his under the table as you shift, eyes drawn back to the video.

His skin tingles. Hot and prickly.

“How about one more hour of studying?”

“Thank god,” you whisper, “I can do that.”

“Power hour?”

“Power hour.”

He walks you back to your dorm.

Even though it’s in the opposite direction of his.

“I hope I helped,” he sighs, “Even if it’s a little bit?”

“You helped a lot -- seriously, I think I’m a wizard now.”

You blossom with pride as he giggles, eyes screwing shut as his head falls backwards. His converse scuff against the pavement as he shoves his fingers into his pockets. Peter glows under pinks and yellows of the streetlights. It’s cute. You wind your own fingers together, toeing the ground.

There’s a weighted pause between you both. Brown eyes burrow into your own.

It’s broken by the door to your dorm swinging open and a group of guys bustling by. It prompts you both to laugh again.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, then?”

“Yeah! And, uh, I’ll let you know how I do on my quiz!”

“Make me proud!”

He waves, you wave, and you swear it’s the warmest you’ve ever felt.

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thecoroutfitters · 6 years

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bharathshan · 3 years

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secret-captain-swan-blog · 7 years

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Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.

A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 36061/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5

Read on: Ao3

It’s Friday evening when Emma finds herself staring at the mirror trying to decide if her look is 1) nice enough for the opera and 2) nice enough for a night out with Killian.

Not that she likes him.

She definitely doesn’t like him.

She can’t like him. Because she put those feelings into a bottle and put the bottle into the wall. The nice safe wall where she can’t like him.

This isn’t going well.

She quickly pulls out her phone to Facetime Belle. It rings a few times before the screen fills with her friend’s smiling face. She can see in the background the living room of their old apartment. There’s the canvas of New York they bought at Ikea and the funky lamp they found at a yard sale. It’s like she’s home, curled up with a cup of tea and ready for a life chat with her best friend.

“Emma!” She exclaims, “It’s so good to see you.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, “It’s great to see you too, Belle.”

“You look amazing,” Belle ooes, “Is that is pink dress? And blush? Emma Swan, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a date.”

Emma sighs and runs a hand over her high ponytail.

“Is it too much? Do I look silly?” She asks.

“No, you look darling,” Belle says, “But what’s the occasion?”

Emma doesn’t know what to say. She isn’t sure if she is ready to tell Belle everything yet.

“I’m going to the opera,” Emma tells her, “Well, the ballet, actually. But it’s in an opera house.”

“Are you really?” Belle asks, “And whom are you going to this opera with? Some dark haired Misthavian History PhD? Or maybe an adorable junior professor with an exotic accent?”

Emma smiles. Belle, good old Belle. Her friend has a mind full of marriage, a product of specializing in 19th Century women’s writers. She is always search for love stories in Emma’s life.

Only, this time she might be on to something.

She sinks down into the corner of her bed, “I don’t know, Belle. It’s not a date, really.”

“Emma?” Belle asks, concern eeping into her voice.

“I’m going with this guy, Killian,” She says, softly.

“Hmmm, tell me more,” Belle says, “Is he Misthavian?”

“He was born here, but grew up in England,” Emma explains.

“English accent, Irish name,” Belle muses, “I’m intrigued. What does he study?”

Emma shakes her head, “He isn’t in academia.”

“A civilian?” Belle says, giggling in mock horror.

“He’s a bartender,” She admits.

She wonders if Belle will look down on him for it. At Duke, their lives were so tied to the department that the idea of dating outside of academia seemed preposterous. But here, things seem different.

“Sexy,” Belle tells her and Emma lets out her breath. She has her friend’s approval.

“Very sexy, actually,” Emma remarks.

“So he’s gorgeous, huh?” Belle asks.

“Very much so,” Emma nods.

“So how’d you meet him?”

“I’m not completely proud of the story,” Emma admits.

“Out with it,” Belle demands.

Emma weaves for her best friend the story of how she met Killian at Mamie’s. She tells her about the hooded man, the red jacket, Blanche Neige and cappuccinos the size of her head, and the sunset boat ride.

“So, you like him?” Belle asks, when she finishes.

“I tell you a story about how I am planning on scamming the Queen of Misthaven, and the first thing you ask is if I like the guy who I am scheming with?” Emma laughs, relief walking off her.

“Well, do you?”

“Yes, but I can’t do anything about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my first priority has to be my thesis, that’s what all this work is for,” Emma explains, “And my second priority is funding my thesis, which right now, looks like convincing the queen that I’m her daughter, I guess. All of those things come before boys.”

“But when are you are going to care about you? About your heart?” Belle demands.

“My heart isn’t important,” Emma says, laughing. Seriously, who says sappy stuff like that? “My thesis is important. My Ph.D is important. I’ll worry about my heart or whatever when I have a career and no student loans.”

“But then you’ll have a mortgage. You’ll have classes to teach. You’ll have research and grant applications and publications. You will always have something, Em. When are you going to care about you?” She asks.

Emma wants to roll her eyes, but she can’t because it’s her best friend. And because there is a bit of her that feels more sad than annoyed. Belle is right. There will always be something. So, does that mean that she has no option? Does that mean she’ll just never fall in love because she’s too busy trying to survive?

She gulps and tries to find the words to respond.

“I’m not saying it has to be him,” Belle explains, “You can fall in love with whoever you wish. I just hope that you do. I hope that eventually you find it in yourself to be open to that.”

There is a knock at the door. Emma startles, dropping the phone.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Belle asks.

“I think so,” Emma says.

“Enjoy, Em,” Belle tells her, “And don’t be afraid to keep your heart open.”

“Okay,” Emma says, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“And you do look really cute,” Belle adds.

“Thanks,” Emma says, flicking off her phone.

She glances back at the mirror. The pink dress is out of character for her, but she likes it’s softness. She does a little twirl in it, admiring the way the skirt fans.

“Emma, love,” A voice calls. His voice. “Open up, it’s me.”

Her stomach does a little backflip, but she walks to door none-the-less.

The first thing Killian notices about Emma is that she’s beautiful. Her pink dress swirls around her knees. Her hair is pulled back. Her face has a light gloss of make up on it. He can tell she’s put in a lot of effort.

For a moment, he wonders if it is to impress him.

Then he remembers that’s silly. She’s trying impress the queen. They are trying to impress the queen.

That doesn’t mean he can’t compliment her.

“Swan, you look-“ He begins, walking in.

“I know,” She says, shrugging off the compliment.

He steps into her apartment. She’s flitting around, tossing things into her clutch.

“You know, you clean up pretty well yourself,” She comments.

He feels his ears turn red. He’s worn a suit- it’s the only one he owns. He bought it for Liam’s funeral, the product of many weeks of saving up.

“Thanks,” He says, “Shall we go to the opera, your highness? I’m afraid that I’ve left the carriage back at the palace. Will you oblige me to take the tram?”

She bursts into giggles, breaking the quiet moment.

“I suppose I can slum it today,” Emma says, as they head out of the apartment.

They walk through the hallways of the building and out onto the street below. The sun is just beginning to dip low in the sky, announcing the approach of evening.

“Tell me about your week as an illustrious academic,” Killian asks, as they start to walk the few blocks to the tram station.

“Far less exciting that it may seem,” Emma informs him, “I started teaching this week.”

“Hmm, Professor Swan, sounds brilliant. And how did that go?” He asks.

“Well, clearly I need to know more about the European education system,” She begins, “I kept asking the students questions and no one answered.”

“I’m not sure students here are as keen on participation,” He acknowledges.

“Right,” Emma says, “Safe to say, I’ve learned that.”

“And what are you teaching them? An entire course on Blanche Neige, I hope,” Killian teases.

“I wish,” Emma grumbles, “I’d be better at that. I’m teaching American literature, which isn’t close to my actual specialization.”

Killian frowns, “Tough luck, Swan.”

“Well,” She says, “Let’s hope we get luckier tonight.”

“Ah, Swan, you want to get lucky, do you?” He jests, “I can make that happen if you are interested.”

“Ugh,” She groans, “Are you always like this?”

His stomach plummets. He feels stupid. Emma doesn’t deserve his obnoxious innuendo habit.

“It’s a defense mechanism,” He mutters, remorse in his voice, “Or maybe a bad habit picked up from bar tending. Or maybe a survival instinct.”

The emotional sentiment is interrupted by the approach the tram. As usual, Emma swipes in and Killian skips the barrier.

They take seats together. Emma sits by the window. She’s silent for a moment, looking out the window in silence. He worries that he upset her. Or that he revealed too much.

Then she turns to him.

“I have survival instincts too,” She tells him.

“You do?” He asks.

“Yeah, mine look more like detailed lists and planners and routine. I’m not a naturally organized person, but I’ve forced myself to become that way,” She explains. Then in a whisper she adds, “Because I have to survive.”

He feels a wash of understanding between them. They both know about survival.

“Studying, reading novels, writing papers- that’s all I’m really good at. It’s all I have. That’s what surviving looks like to me. That’s why I’m so frantic about funding this thesis. If I don’t have my Ph.D, if I don’t have my dissertation- I don’t have anything,” She confesses.

He doesn’t say anything, but he takes her hand and squeezes it. She looks up at him with a smile.

“Emma, we are going to get you the funding,” Killian tells her, “The world needs your insights about Blanche Neige.”

She laughs, leaning into him, but somehow managing to drop his hand in the process. He wonders if it on purpose or an accidental causality.

The train announces their stop. Opèra, Opèra.

For the amount that Killian bragged about his knowledge of Misthaven, he’s never actually been in the opera. He hasn’t had much free time and he’s not opera-going man.

As they make their way into the building, he feels a flutter of nerves. Maybe this is too out of his league. Everything about the opera house is elegant from the outside: domed patina roof, gold guilding, and majestic stone statues. It’s not a place that a guy like him belongs.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Emma asks, as they pause outside the doors, gazing up at the building.

“Definitely something,” Killian replies.

As if she can read his fears, she adds, “I felt intimidated last time I was here. But it’s really beautiful if you give it a chance. And hopefully the show won’t suck this time.”

“I mean the queen herself did promise it to be good,” Killian teases.

They walk into the lobby and his jaw drops a little.

“I’ll leave you here to drool over the details,” Emma says, “I’ll just be at the Will-Call.”

He watches her walk away, the dress swishing around her knees again. He can hardly believe that he’s here, in this magnificent opera house with a woman as smart and gorgeous as Emma Swan.

“Ready?” She asks, when she returns with the tickets. “We have like crazy good seats too.”

They wander up to the top of an ornate staircase where an usher directs them towards a hall after passing them programs.

They find their seats, or rather their box, second to the end of the hallway.

“Killian, look,” Emma says, pointing to the door past them. It has the Royal Misthaven crest on it in gold.

“This is her box, isn’t it?” She says, softer now.

Killian nods.

“We’re in the box next to the queen,” She says again.

It’s hitting them both how real this is. This whole thing is about to begin.

“We’ll have to thank her for the tickets at intermission,” He says.

This time Emma nods silently.

Killian opens the door to their box and they head inside. He gasps again at the ornate decorations inside. The seats are lined in red velvet.

“Look at the ceiling,” He murmurs.

Emma laughs, her eyes following his. There are dreamy images painted across it, swirling designs, delicate flowers and angels.

“This whole place is bloody beautiful,” He remarks.

She smacks him with her program and settles into her seat. The orchestra begins to tune and audience slowly quiets down.

Killian never thought that he’d ever enjoy ballet. Yet here he is, watching the dancers prance across the stage and being totally entranced.

“Have you ever seen anything like this Swan?” He whispers. “They’re all moving together.”

“Shh,” She says, swatting at him again, “We’re going to get kicked out.”

He can tell from the amused smile on her face that she’s more endeared than annoyed.

By intermission, Emma’s a mix of nerves and adrenalin.

The ballet doesn’t help. It’s a show called Coppelia. It just so happens to be about a girl pretending to be a doll. It makes Emma think about Princess Emma. It’s the same kind of thing, pretending to be an echo of a real person.

“We should go thank the queen,” Killian whispers in her ear.

Emma nods, “These were really good tickets. She definitely deserves our thanks.”

They stand to leave the box. Before she can make it to the door, Killian captures her hand.

Her heart flutters for a moment. Not from her nerves about the queen, but from the feeling on his hand in hers.

He did that before, earlier, on the tram. Just a soft comforting squeeze to signal that she wasn’t alone. He does the same thing now. He lifts his hand in his, squeezes it, and gives her an encouraging smile. He must know how wound up she is. He must know how worried she is.

“Thanks,” She says, opening the door.

They walk into the hallway, his hand still in hers, and approach the queen’s door. She knocks once and the door is opened by someone who resembles a cartoon character version of a guard. Misthaven guards, she’s read, are known for dressing in funny uniforms.

“Who are you?” He asks in a strict voice.

“I’m Emma,” She says, politely, “Her Majesty Queen Mary Margaret gave me the tickets for tonights show. I wanted to thank her.”

The guard turns back to the box and Emma overhears a female voice answer saying, “Send her in!”

Emma walks in to the box, which is only slightly more ornate than her own. Killian’s hand drops from hers as he follows a few steps behind.

The woman stands to greet Emma. She’s dressed in a black dress with a glittery crystal necklace decorating her neck. There is something comforting about her, making the worry in Emma’s stomach disintegrate.

The queen and the guard seem to be the only people in the box. Emma wonders if the queen has friends. Royalty had to be popular, right? That’s how Emma always imagined it. Queens were like the ultimate queen bees from high school. Suddenly, Emma realizes that most of the queen’s friends were most killed in the revolution. For a moment, she is struck by how lonely the woman might be.

“Your Majesty,” Emma says, bobbing a curtsey. She’s looked up protocol for meeting a queen online earlier that day. She hadn’t wanted to seem rude. “I apologize for my casualness when we last met. I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t know you were the queen at the time.”

The woman stands to greet her, “Oh please, call me Mary Margaret. I’m not too worried about the pomp and circumstance these days. You are Emma, right?”

There something soft about the way the queen says Emma. As if it is a treat for her to say the name. As if it is a familiar caress.

“Yes,” Emma says, “And this is my friend, Killian.”

Killian steps to stand next to Emma and gives a bow.

“Killian Jones? Is that you?” Mary Margaret says, surprise on her face as she looks between Emma and Killian.

“Indeed, your majesty,” He says, “It’s been a few years.”

“I’m sorry that we haven’t had an occasion to meet since your brother’s funeral,” The queen said, “How have you been?”

“Very well, your majesty,” He answers.

“And how did you and Emma meet?” She asks.

“Over our mutual love for literature,” Emma lies swiftly, “We were both reading our favorite books in a café.”

There is a gem of truth in that. They did bond over their love of literature, only it was after they bonded over their plan to scam the queen, but whatever.

“What a lovely way to start a relationship,” The queen says.

“Oh, we aren’t dating,” Emma says, “We’re just friends. I only arrived last week to Misthaven actually.”

“Welcome to Misthaven then,” Mary Margaret says cheerily.

“Thank you, your majesty- Mary Margaret,” She amends.

“You are quite lucky to have Killian as your tour guided,” Mary Margaret tells her, “He’s made out of the purest, loyalist Misthaven blood there is.”

“He has done a great job of showing me around so far,” Emma babbles, “He took me on river cruise at sunset and Misthaven was so gorgeous.”

“A cruise at sunset? How romantic,” The queen gushes.

“Oh, no,” Emma mutters, “It was just a tour around town.”

“Oh right, not romantic,” Mary Margaret giggles, “Well, I can still remember little Killian running down the hall of our castle. Though, unsurprising, he spent most of his time holed up in the library.”

Killian blushes at the queen’s details, “What can I say, I’ve always liked books.”

Emma gazes at Killian, charmed at the image of a little version of him lying on the library floor, pouring over a book.

“So, what brings you to our country then, Emma?” Mary Margaret asks, pulling her from her thoughts.

“I’m working on my dissertation in English literature,” Emma tells her.

“Delightful,” The queen ooes, “I adore the humanities. Arts, literatures, philosophy, music- they are my joy.”

Emma smiles at the queen.

“I don’t leave my house often,” She tells Emma, her voice growing wistful, “But I don’t ever miss what is going on in the opera house. Culture, art, music, stories- that’s what makes life worth living. Even a lonely life is worth it with art.”

Emma swallows, looking down. The queen, the freaking queen of this country, just revealed something insanely personal to her and she doesn’t know how react. She thinks it’s a good sign though. This has to mean that she at least feels comfortable around Emma.

“Sorry, that’s a lot I just threw at you,” Mary Margaret says, startled, babbling, “I don’t even really know you. But you’ve got a familiar quality, Emma.”

Emma laughs gently, trying to hide the bit of her inside that feels like bursting with happiness. This is SO easy. The queen is playing right into her hands so easily.

“I must have one of those faces, you know?” Emma says.

“Yes, you must,” Mary Margaret says, squinting at her.

Emma wonders if she’ll withstand her scrutiny. She watches as the queen absentmindedly strokes her chin, before blinking.

“I would love to talk to you about literature sometime,” Mary Margaret says suddenly.

Seriously, things couldn’t work out better.

“Yes, of course, I’d love that,” Emma says.

“Brilliant,” The queen says, “What do you say to tea this week at my home?”

Emma tries not to gap or squeal or do anything to reveal how shocked she is that this is all falling into place.

“That would be so sweet,” Emma says, letting her voice sound sincere. She really does love to talk about books.

“When is a good time for you? How does Wednesday afternoon suit?” The queen asks.

Emma nods, happy that she isn’t teaching or meeting with her advisor at that time.

“Give your address to my guard and I’ll send a driver to fetch you around then,” She says, the authority in her voice makes it clear that she is truly the queen, or at least once had the strength of one.

“Okay,” Emma says.

“I’m delighted to meet you properly, Emma,” The queen says. Her name still sounds like a caress coming off her tongue. “I’m sorry I won’t be around after the ballet, so you’ll have to save your thoughts on it for tea.”

“I look forward to it,” Emma says, trying to sound confident and casual, and not still shocked that The Queen of Misthaven wants to have tea to talk about literature with her.

The lights in theater flash, signaling the approaching end of intermission.

“It’s been wonderful to see you again, Killian,” Mary Margaret tells them, as they retreat towards the door of the box.

“Likewise, your majesty,” Killian says, bowing, “I hope to see you more often.”

“As do I,” Mary Margaret says, “See you Wednesday, Emma.”

The guard passes his phone to her and for a moment she is confused. Then she remembers the queen’s directions, and promptly types in her address.

“Thank you again for the tickets,” Emma says, bobbing another curtsey, “And see you, Wednesday.”

When the door closes behind them, Emma knows she can’t react. The walls are too thin. If she lets out the giant whoop that she wants to, she’s not sure it would get the right reaction.

Instead, she grabs Killian’s hand and squeezes it tightly, flashing him a huge smile. He squeezes back, his smile echoing hers.

They slip back into their box and the second act begins. The ballet ends with the girl marrying her lover and living happily ever after with her debts repaid. Emma hopes that the whole thing is a working metaphor for her life today.

The ballet ends with the usual applause and fanfare. Emma decides that she likes it much more than the opera. She’s not sure she’d be up for Opera: Round Two, but she would definitely sit through another ballet. You know, if the queen just wanted to give her tickets.

Killian is silent as they make their way out of the theater. She slips her program into her purse, as they burst out into the slight chill of the night.

“Emma,” Killian hushes, “Emma, you were brilliant.”

She turns to him and he’s grinning wide.

“I can’t believe it we did that,” She breathes.

Then Killian is lifting her up, spinning her in a Hollywood-esque romantic moment. At first she thinks that it’s him being saucy, but when she looks at his face, she knows that the gesture is in pure happiness. She lets herself giggle and grin as Misthaven swirls around her.

“That went so unbelievably well,” Emma sighs, when he put her back on the ground.

He scratches behind his ear, as they start to walk towards the river.

“She really thinks you’re her,” Killian says, “Really and truly. Did you hear the way she said Emma, all dreamy-like?”

“I know and the part where she was like ‘you look familiar or whatever,’” Emma babbles.

“She hardly said a word to me, mind,” Killian mutters, “But that doesn’t matter. All she needs to do is be dazzled by you.”

“No, that’s not true,” Emma says, her voice still giddy, “She said you were made out of the bravest or loyalist Misthaven blood. She trusts you, Killian.”

He chuckles, “Maybe she does. If she trust me enough, I may just be able to put in a good word for you when the time comes.”

“Of course, you’ll be putting in a good word for me,” Emma teases.

“How could I not?” Killian says, his voice joking, but there is a trace of something lacing his tone. Reverence? Affection? Emma pushes it from her mind.

They reach the river when Killian pauses.

“Swan, this calls for a celebration,” He says, “Just stay here a moment, love.”

He runs into a local Carrefour and runs back with a bottle of champagne. Emma giggles again as he unpops the cork and sprays sticky mist everywhere.

They cross the love-lock again bridge. He nods to the quay side and they walk towards it, taking their seat along the river and letting their legs hang over the edge of the low wall that runs along it. It’s dark now and a night tour boat is coasting by. It’s lit up, as is the opera house, the cathedral, and the castle. It’s dreamy.

They pass the bottle between them, taking sips of champagne. A comfortable silence settles between them. Emma likes that. They haven’t known each other too long, but they’ve already gotten to stage where they can be silent around each other. It must be part of the kindred spirits thing.

Emma eventually breaks the silence saying, “So, tell me what I should know about her. If I’m going to be Princess Emma, you’re going to have to give me all the help I can get.”

Killian frowns and takes a long gulp of champagne, “I can’t say I know tons about her. I’ve been dreaming about her more and more recently, the little games we’d play in the royal gardens, running across the castle grounds, other small things like that.”

Emma looks at him.

“I used to dream of castles too,” Emma says. “When I was very little. It was like a reoccurring dream.”

Killian looks up at her now.

“Maybe-“ He begins.

“I think it was a coping mechanism,” She admits, “Trying to imagine my way out of my sad story and into a fairy tale.”

“Emma,” Killian says softly.

She shakes her head, letting the thoughts leave her head. She can’t focus on the past. Dreams don’t mean anything. She was a little kid, of course she dreamt about castles, and probably unicorns and mermaids too. She can’t read into it. Not now.

“So tell me about her,” Emma prods.

“Hmm,” Killian says, looking pensive, “She drank tons of hot chocolate. It didn’t help that she was spoiled rotten by everyone in the kitchens who thought she was adorable. She’d always put cinnamon on top of her hot chocolate.”

Emma ponders this a moment. She can’t imagine a childhood like that. She can’t imagine anyone wanting to spoil her. She can hardly remember having hot chocolate as kid. With Ingrid, sure, but before that it was the biggest luxury.

“But she couldn’t really say cinnamon because she was a silly like kid, so she’d say something like synonym,” Killian chuckles.

“So she spoke English?” Emma asks, curious about the detail.

“They spoke French, Dutch, and English in the castle, but mostly English,” Killian explains, “They said it was the most important language for diplomacy.”

Emma nods.

“Most people in Misthaven speak pretty good English,” Killian continues, “We’re close to England and a lot of people watch loads of American telly.”

“So what else?” Emma prods, “Is there anything I need to know?”

Killian shrugs, “She liked little girl things. She loved ponies. Adored them. She had one, but I can’t remember his name. He was a spotted little pony and she was always riding around on him. I remember her begging her father for lessons time after time.”

It baffles Emma again. A childhood where someone buys you a real-life pony? She was lucky if she got some hand-me-downs and a library card. The fact that someone lived in a castle with stables where they had their own pony seemed unworldly to Emma.

“The rest is hard,” Killian admits, “It’s hard to tell what about a little girl transfers to adulthood.”

Things were quiet now. The boat had passed out into the channel. There was distance laughter and noise across the bridge from Old Town, but it seemed far away.

All of a sudden, Emma was struck by how close Killian was sitting. She felt his presence beside her, like an overwhelming aura reaching out to her. She can hear his breaths beside her, the thick gulp as he swallows more champagne

His hands brush hers as he passes her the champagne bottle. Emma shivers. She knows they’ve held hands for tiny moments during the night, but this feels different. There is an energy crackling between them now, a romantic tension that’s palpable.

“She had blond hair,” Killian says, as Emma takes large sip.

He reaches out and brushes his hand through her curls.

Emma takes another gulp of champagne.

“She had green eyes,” Killian says, leaning forward, brushing a strand of hair out of the way.

Emma puts the champagne bottle down beside her.

“And this adorable, dimpled chin,” Killian hushes.

He rubs his thumb over her chin. She wonders if he notices the tiny fleck of a scar that has formed there after the man pressed his blade to her chin last week. She wonders if Killian has noticed the way her bottom teeth are little crooked. Or the way her eyebrows are overdue for a pluck.

There is this part of her that really, really wants him to find her attractive. She wants him to fall for her. He’s so hot, with his stupid stubble and sexy accent.

He leans his head towards her. She can feel his breath close her. His finger is still on her chin, his hand coming to cup her cheek.

And she’s knows what comes next.

He’s going to kiss her.

But he can’t. She can’t let that happen. Emma has manufactured her world with priorities. School, her degree- that’s what matters. She can’t get distracted by men, even if they are beautiful. Even if she really, really wants to kiss them.

She thinks of the talk with Kennedy on her window-sill when she was nine. She remembers Kennedy telling her about the girl who got involved with a bad guy, ended up in jail. That can’t be Emma. She has a purpose and that is grad school and that is all she can have.

No prince charmings. No knights in shining armor. No stupidly attractive men distracting her with kisses and romance.

Not until she has her thesis turned in, at least.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says.

She draws back from Killian before his lips can meet hers.

“I should really be going,” She says, “I have to wake up early tomorrow and work on my dissertation. I’m really behind. Sorry. I’ll see you around Mamie’s soon.”

She scrambles to her feet and hitches her purse over her shoulder. She doesn’t want to wait to see the look on his face after his rejected advance. So, she takes off across the bridge to the tram stop.

“Wait, Emma,” Killian says, following her.

She turns back, mid-bridge. Mid-love lock bridge.

“At least, let me walk you back to your apartment,” He says, his voice only half-hopeful.

She squares her shoulders and brushes her hair back from her face.

“I’m fine, Killian, I can handle myself,” She says.

Tagging with love: @sambethe @lenfaz @pocket-anon @the-corsair-and-her-quill @kmomof4 @kiwistreetswan @princesseslikepirates @timeless-love-story @katie-dub

#cs ff #cs au #cs mc #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #cs ff au #cs mafia #cs crew #cs fic

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coleymari-blog · 7 years

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Cyber Space is Always Sweeter : Chapter 8

Summary: Lucy is a down to Earth, studious, responsible runaway attending Magnolia College. Natsu is a rambunctious, intelligent, pyrophilic fraternity boy going to the same school.

They don’t exactly run in the same circles and they have one hell of a history. What happens when the names and facades disappear and all that’s left are words blinking on a screen? Modern day, College/Pen Pals AU. I’m sorry I suck at intros. Rated M for Language, Adult Situations, and future sexual situations. Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

"Oh, Lu, you are in so much trouble…"

Levy and Lucy were sitting on the blonde's star-streaked bedspread, watching some stupid crime drama in the background, while they talked about their day. After their text message exchange during lab, the older girl had insisted on the two of them going back to Lucy's dorm after their classes let out for some much-needed girl time. Of course, that had consisted of copious amounts of ice cream and gossip.

"Shut up, Lev," the younger girl barked, swallowing a spoonful of Cookie Dough and vanilla. She could feel the blush creeping up on her again and she quickly dropped her gaze. "Every time he looks at me, he sees some poor pathetic freshman. You can see it in his eyes." The blonde purposefully left out the parts about Natsu's gentle tone of voice and the staring matches, fearing more teasing from her best friend. They'd been analyzing her interaction with the grad student for the past hour, practically since Levy arrived. The bluenette shook her head and chuckled softly, placing her carton and spoon on the wire shelf above Lucy's bed.

"Trust me, girl, there's no way he saw you in that outfit and thought you were anything but hot," Levy teased, earning her a small moon-shaped pillow to the head. Without hesitation, she picked it up and chucked it right back at its sender. "Ah. Proof that you know it's true." Lucy stuck her tongue out childishly before diving back into her ice cream. She felt the blush creeping up her neck and slowly cover her jaw and cheeks as her friend grinned in response.

The freshman sat back against the wall and sighed, leading Levy to believe a change of subject was in order. "Soooo, Lu, have you given any thought about going through Fall Rush?"

Lucy's expression soured slightly and she rolled her eyes. Why would she put herself through that bullshit again? Just so she could be ridiculed and mocked? Told that she wasn't good enough? Put on display for the world to see? "I don't think that's such a good idea…" she replied cooly, shaking her head. "Plus, no one would want me after what happened with those snobs."

"So not true! You could totally join Cait Shelter!" Levy replied excitedly. She looked out through the open door to Lucy's dorm room to see if her roommates were in the shared space before speaking again more quietly. "Millianna and Wendy are both coming to Rush and I know that they have an interest in my Sorority. We both know that you would fit right in with us, Lu."

The younger woman stared back at her friend as if trying to read her. She knew that Levy meant well and that she had a point. Because of Levy she already knew most of the girls in Cait Shelter. She also liked the fact that Levy's sisters stressed the importance of intelligence, strength, and camaraderie. The only downside was the fact that they were very close to the Fairy Tail boys, many of them cycling through each other on a whim. Maybe going through Rush again wouldn't be so bad if it meant being sisters with women like that.

"I don't know Lev, we'll see okay?" Lucy compromised, receiving a beaming smile and a nod from her best friend. At least that meant the end of that conversation for the time being.

Getting up to throw away her empty carton, Levy brushed off her sweater and grabbed her bag from Lucy's desk. "Thank you for acquiescing," the bluenette chirped with a wink. "You know you love me, regardless of how much I harass you. Plus, who are we to say 'No' to Erza?" They both shuddered at the mere thought. With a hug goodbye, Levy took off and left Lucy alone in her dorm.

The blonde sat down at her computer and set to do a bit of writing for her novel. Her mind kept coming back to a certain TA, staring her down from the back of the lab. Her body writhed as she recalled the heat that Natsu's gaze had burned into the back of her neck. Before she could lose herself in her thoughts, the alarm on her e-mail application alerted her to a new message. She couldn't help but smile when she read excitedly.

To: CelestialBeauty42 From: DragonSlayer666 Subj: Bored Bored Bored

Hey Starfire! You there? I'm so bored, will you help entertain me?

-DragonSlayer

"Wait? The same chick that Minerva threw at you?"

Natsu's fist landed a solid hit on Gray's torso, causing the raven-haired man to grunt. They had been going at it in the backyard of the frat house for about forty-five minutes after they'd finished with their lectures for the day and they were both exhausted.

"Aye," the pinket growled, his leg trying to sweep Gray's from under him, only to be blocked and knocked flat onto his back. He picked himself up, his chest heaving, only to have the bout called by his opponent.

Swiping at the sweat that had accumulated all over his naked upper body with a towel from the rack, Gray laughed. "What are you going to do? Avoid her?"

Natsu wiped himself down as well, throwing his towel immediately into the basket by the back door. Honestly, avoiding Lucy had never come to mind. The second he saw her in his lab, all he wanted to do was help her. It was probably due to the fact that he still felt so badly about what had happened over the summer, but it had never occurred to him that he could have made her feel even more uncomfortable.

"Nah, I gave her my card in case she needed help in Chem," Natsu replied, slinging his t-shirt over his chiseled shoulder, the Fairy Tail symbol emblazoned in a fiery red peeking from underneath the black fabric. Gray seemed surprised by Natsu's 'generosity'.

"And she didn't turn you down?" he questioned, opening the door to the house for both of them. They were immediately assaulted by the smell of something delicious and were pleased to find Freed cooking dinner for the brothers. The two of them headed upstairs to get showered and changed so they couldn't possibly be near the back of the line for food.

"Surprisingly, no," Natsu retorted, a sense of pride in his voice. "She took it and smiled. Didn't get to stick around long, I was teaching after all, Ice Princess."

Gray shook his head as they entered their respective rooms to grab their clothes and shower kits, joining his buddy back in the hallway as they made their way to the showers. "Whatever, Lava Breath," he snapped. "Just don't screw it up. You're her TA, man. No need to pull a Laxus, alright?" The grandson of Professor Makarov had almost been expelled from Fairy Tail for sleeping with a student while he was a Teacher's Assistant but luckily the girl, Mirajane, had come to his defense. They were still together if Natsu remembered correctly, not that it mattered to him.

They both entered the shower stalls at the same time but Natsu took a bit longer on purpose. While he was standing in the stream of water, his mind kept drifting to the moment between himself and Lucy at the doorway after class. The way she'd looked at him had sent chills down his spine (in a good way). She wouldn't have looked at him like that if she hated him or something, right? She'd definitely been able to burn through him with her stare before but in that moment? She just looked so...

When he got out of the shower, Natsu made his way to his computer to check his school e-mail. He already had a couple messages from the more over-zealous students looking for advancement opportunities. Nothing that couldn't wait until the next day. Switching over to his personal account, he immediately went to write a new message to his new online friend, Starfire. If he couldn't talk to Lucy, at least he could talk to her.

He received a reply almost immediately, making him smile.

To: DragonSlayer666 From: CelestialBeauty42 Subj: RE: Bored Bored Bored

Might be a bit easier with chat. Add me?

-Starfire

Natsu grinned and jumped at the chance to chat with his mystery online acquaintance, agreeing that it was much easier than email. He clicked onto his messenger list and added the screen name, seeing that she was already online.

DragonSlayer666: Miss me that much, huh? CelestialBeauty42: So much for trying to make it easier.

He laughed when he could practically see her rolling her eyes, whatever they happened to look like. Great, now he was fantasizing about a girl he knew nothing about.

DragonSlayer666: Fine, I'm sorry. Let's talk about something else. How was your day? Did you survive your second day? CelestialBeauty42: Barely. But now I'm home for the night, and I have ice cream. Life could be worse.

Before long, they were at it again, getting lost in conversation with each other. They talked for a couple hours before their chat took a more serious turn.

DragonSlayer666: Are you serious? You told me you were a runaway but you never mentioned any of that. CelestialBeauty42: I lived in an estate up North. It was just me and my dad and he was barely home to begin with. One day during one of his business trips, a few of the household staff helped me gather up some things and a little bit of money in order for me to leave. It's only been a few months, but I love the freedom. I wouldn't give this up for the world. DragonSlayer666: And your dad never noticed? CelestialBeauty42: Haven't heard anything yet, so I'm guessing not.

Just the thought alone broke Natsu's heart a bit. No one deserved to be forgotten by their own father, even a random girl on the internet. His parents had left him but not by choice, getting killed in a car accident when he was just a baby. Luckily he'd been given to Igneel and Grandeena Dragneel to raise and they had done a spectacular job. He'd never felt unloved, not cared for, or forgotten. Poor Starfire...

DragonSlayer666: Well, if it's any consolation, I'll never forget you Starfire. You're way too special. CelestialBeauty42: No one has said something that nice to me in a long time. Thank you, DragonSlayer. DragonSlayer666: Just call me Dragon. I love fire enough to be one anyway. CelestialBeauty42: Haha. Dragon it is. Do you collect treasure and steal young women too? )

Natsu could feel a small blush coming to his cheeks. Was she flirting with him? He was never good at understanding the meaning behind text messages, especially when it came to girls. That was one of the biggest issues Lisanna had with him. But did that mean he should flirt back? How could he even purposefully flirt with her over online chat?

DragonSlayer666: Only when they're reeeeeeally valuable, like something made of starlight. That stuff is hard to come by, you know. CelestialBeauty42: Is that so? Well, in that case, I certainly hope you don't live in some sort of dungeon.

She was flirting with him! Natsu's cheeks glowed bright red as a wide smile came over his face. She hadn't even met him and she was flirting with him. It made him feel good, surprisingly. Granted, Natsu wasn't a stranger to female attention. He wouldn't deny that he was a good looking guy. A lot of the time, it just felt like girls hit on him because he was older, or because he was a TA for their class and they thought he could get them an A. The last girl to be genuinely interested in him as a person was Lisanna.

It wasn't another three hours before they finally signed off and Natsu fell asleep with the same dopey grin on his face that he'd had plastered on all night.

#nalu fanfic #nalu fic #nalu #ft fanfiction #ftfanfics #cyber space is always sweeter #;csias

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allianceinternational-blog · 6 years

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How do I become a recruitment consultant using LinkedIn recruit tool?

The sphere of recruiting is changing rapidly and employers are increasingly relying on social networking websites to source talent, and finding that some of them are very effective. LinkedIn, in particular, has been cited by many employers as an extremely effective way of recruiting talent. According to our 2013 study of hiring practices, Get More info the majority of Northeast Ohio organizations surveyed (61%) use LinkedIn to recruit.

Although all social media platforms can be used for different purposes in the recruiting process, it's safe to say that LinkedIn is more professional and business focused, as well as more relevant to recruiting, as candidates can highlight their resume, skills, experience, connections, and general influence in the field. The platform is quickly becoming the choice for professionals to look for jobs and find employment - and for employers when sourcing talent.

We've collaborated with Amy Neumann, director of search engine optimization, search engine marketing, and social media optimization at ERC's Preferred Partner, Cleveland.com, to provide 10 tips on how to use LinkedIn to successfully recruit candidates.

1. Develop a company profile

Employers should create a company LinkedIn profile, keep their profiles updated, share information about their products and services, link to their blog and other social media websites, showcase their employees and testimonials, and highlight their career opportunities. Ideally, employers should also routinely post relevant and engaging content for their followers such as blog posts, articles, videos, and pictures.

Encourage candidates to follow your company on LinkedIn, and even allow them to apply directly from your profile, like Coca Cola does.

2. Screen and verify candidates

LinkedIn is helpful in providing a fuller picture of a candidate's capabilities versus simply a resume, job application, or brief personal introduction. It can also be effectively used for screening and verifying capabilities, credentials, and skills prior to contacting candidates. You can view a candidate's endorsements, recommendations, education, prior work experience, and interests within LinkedIn.

Additionally, according to Amy, viewing the groups in which candidates are involved and their participation in them provides insight into their level of skill.

3. Reach candidates through InMail, job postings, and sponsored jobs

Amy also recommends using LinkedIn’s InMails to personally reach out to candidates. You can use InMail, your internal inbox at LinkedIn, for private messaging with candidates as well as to request assistance from your network or select professionals to find a qualified candidate.

LinkedIn also has "Sponsored Jobs" in which employers may bid for the top placement in the "Jobs You May be Interested In" section of the LinkedIn homepage.

4. Participate in groups and post status updates

Posting status updates draws attention to yourself and your business, and it's an easy way to reach out to your network.

Also, LinkedIn groups are an ideal way to source candidates and you can post positions in them. However, some groups limit recruiters from continually posting open positions if they do not regularly interact with and participate in the group.

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imatv · 6 years

Text

Q&A Intro to VR

A while ago, an old friend introduced me to some students doing a science project who asked me some questions about VR. They were kind of introductory questions, but I’m sure lots of people out there don’t know much about VR yet; so I decided to post my response.

“ Intro

Hey there future VR developers and creators!

My name is Alvin, and I've been working with VR and AR technology for about 5 years now. I recently graduated Fall of 2017 from UCLA with B.S. in Computer Science and a minor in Cognitive Science.

Just after graduating high school (wayyyy back in 2013), I remember getting the first Oculus Rift DK1 in the mail and setting it up. Even though it was a prototype, it was absolutely mind-blowing. I remember putting it on and being INSIDE Minecraft.

After that, I made it one of my goals to keep up-to-date with the industry and so while in college, I made a bunch of random VR and AR projects for hackathons. These include:

AR search - https://devpost.com/software/findar

VR walking - https://devpost.com/software/m-o-l-m

VR dodgeball - https://devpost.com/software/dodgelodge

These projects allowed me to learn a lot about how to make things for VR, and eventually landed me a research position at UCLA, under two psychology professors who studied human memory and human perception.

They wanted to study the human brain with the help of VR. So I built experiments using VR as a tool to put people into virtual worlds so that we can see how the brain reacts in certain conditions.

After two years of this, I was pretty set to go to graduate school, but those plans changed very quickly. A couple of my friends and I were getting odd jobs to develop VR projects for other people, and we were getting paid too!

So, instead of going to grad school, I and my team of friends started a company, called Escality (clever combination of ‘Escape Reality’), and now we make our own VR/AR games and also other applications for clients!

Here's the trailer for our first VR game on Steam!

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PhzONE7-NQ0

Steam: https://store.steampowered.com/app/805320/Conjurors_Eye/

Okay enough about me, let's talk about VR!

Answers to Questions

How does VR work?

If you haven’t tried VR yet, you have to do that first. Find any way you can. It will blow your mind. And it'll be a good first step to understanding how it all works.

This video comes close to capturing what VR is like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNjmmLLBGHs, but seriously you need to try it for yourself.

Alright, after that, let's dive in:

A lot of things come together to make VR work, but the main two are: Displays and Tracking

For displays, VR headsets are just screens (like your phone screen or your computer screen) with a bunch of fancy sensors.

But for these screens to make it feel like you're somewhere else, they have to show two images (one for each eye) that are slightly different. This is what's called a stereoscopic display (stereoscopic, meaning two views).

For tracking, well, it depends on the headset. But there's two main types of VR tracking technology: lighthouse (or outside-in tracking) and inside-out tracking.

Here's a good illustration of the difference:

With inside-out tracking, the headset on the player has cameras and fancy sensors (like accelerometers, the kind of sensors used in phones to tell if they're upside down or not). The cameras and sensors work to understand the world around the player and make really good guesses to how the person is oriented.

With outside-in tracking, separate tracking cameras are placed around the room and look for certain markers on the player and/or headset to make a good guess as to where the person is and how they are oriented.

If you want to read more about this, here's a good article: https://www.wareable.com/vr/inside-out-vs-outside-in-vr-tracking-343

When you combine high quality stereoscopic displays with good and fast tracking, you can put that on someone's face, and they'll feel like they're somewhere else! That's VR!

How much money does it take to manufacture a VR headset?

The answer to this question is like the last one. It depends.

For example, let's take the Oculus Rift. It is currently being sold at $400, (released for $600). According to this article, it costs $206 for the parts, not including the labor put into putting it all together.

But if you look at other headsets, like the Pimax, it's being sold at $1000. There's no source for how much that one costs to make (probably a lot more).

How could you transfer VR files to space?

VR files are just regular computer files. If you've ever played a game on your computer, VR is the same thing! A VR game is just another computer game!

The main difference between VR and regular games is in the display (two images instead of one big one) and the tracking (using sensors and cameras to figure out where you're looking / how you're tilting your head).

How are VR movies made?

There are two types of VR environments: VR capture (taking the real world and putting it in VR) and completely virtual environments (building worlds from scratch in VR)VR capture techniques vary widely and usually involves taking a bunch of pictures of the world and mixing/matching them to form a sphere. Then based on where you're looking, you'll see a part of that sphere.

Here's a good article about how VR capture is done: https://www.viar360.com/blog/types-of-virtual-reality-capture-methods-that-allow-you-to-replicate-the-real-world/

For completely virtual environments, these are usually built in a game engine editor like Unity or Unreal Engine. 3D modeling is done to create virtual assets, then animation and VFX tools are used to make them move and look as if they're alive.

Popular 3D modelling software programs include: Blender, Maya, 3DS Max, and many more.

What supplies are needed to film a VR movie?

Assuming you're doing VR capture (taking the real world and putting it in VR), usually you'll need some kind of 360 degree camera. You can refer to the previous answer's link to that one article. Searching up each method for VR capture will give you an idea of what is needed for each technique.

Otherwise, if you're building completely virtual environments, all you need is a computer with a game engine downloaded (Unity and Unreal are the most popular and easiest to learn).

How much does the equipment cost to make a VR movie?

That highly depends on the technique used.

For simple 360 videos, all you would need is a 360 degree camera which costs anywhere between $100 to a couple thousand dollars depending on the quality of video that you want.

For more advanced techniques like photogrammetry and light-field capture, setups can run up to many thousands of dollars.

If you want to create completely virtual worlds, though, that's usually completely free! With software like Unity and Unreal, as well as Blender, you can create entire virtual worlds at zero cost. But it's a lot of work.

How are VR files stored or sent?

Again, VR files are just regular computer files. You can download a game from the internet, the same way you can download a VR game from the internet.

Will the VR video be clear even though they are heavily compressed?

Video files can be encoded at whatever quality you want them to be. They can be 1080p, or they can be 100000000 x 1000000000 resolution. That's up to you.

Whether or not your computer can run something that's 100000000 x 1000000000 is a separate issue (most regular computers today will have trouble even playing things at 4K).

Also VR headsets don't go that high.The HTC Vive Pro has a screen resolution of 2880 x 1600 (1400 x 1600 per eye).

The Oculus Rift has a screen resolution of 2160 x 1200.

The Pimax has a screen resolution of 2 * (3840 x 2160).

When you put a VR headset on, resolution isn't as important as refresh rate (the speed the screen updates per second). Research suggests that 90 Hz screens are optimal for VR use.

That means the screen has to update 90 times every second in order to feel good. Tracking also matters a lot, because with bad tracking, people can get nauseous and motion sick.

As for the video being clear, just make sure the resolution of the video matches the one that your headset supports. If you're using a HTC Vive Pro, make sure it's 2880 x 1600 (1400 x 1600 per eye), etc.

How do you incorporate sound into VR?

Most modern VR headsets have speakers for both the left and right ear. Spatial audio files exist that have data on how loud something is in your left ear vs. your right ear depending on where you're facing.

These types of files are called ambisonic audio files. Youtube supports First Order Ambisonics, and you can also read about this file type here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ambisonic_data_exchange_formats#File_formats_and_metadata

VR games do this by default through the game engine code. So, when you play a game in VR made in Unity or Unreal for example, the sound will automatically be built-in and spatial, so that something on your left in VR will actually sound like it's on your left, etc.

Alright! That's all of the questions answered! Good luck on your project! Don't be afraid to ask some more! ”

#virtualreality #augmentedreality #daretoescapereality #escality

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ljusen · 7 years

Text

5/28/17

When I look ahead of me, I see almost nothing in certainty. The next five years are completely shrouded in hundreds of variables that seem impossible to estimate. Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life. Maybe I’ll become a stripper! Maybe I’ll start a Depop store and get heavily involved in embroidering thrifted t-shirts. Maybe I’ll die. The only thing that feels even remotely predictable about the next phase of my life is that it will be characterized by financial instability and turmoil. Thankfully, I am no stranger to this lifestyle. Does nothing feel like home if not crippling anxiety about the absence of money?

I think I want to go to grad school, but I also think I just want to piss off my mom’s brothers who I reckon falsely predicted my perceivably inevitable teen pregnancy and pill addiction. My relationship with the future of my education has always been peppered by impulsivity and an insatiable hunger to prove people wrong. I remember sitting on my grandma’s bed and telling her that I’d never need to know math because famous actresses don’t need to know how to do long division. College seemed unlikely to all parties involved, myself included. Ten years later I would be having several simultaneous and distinct types of nervous breakdowns as I hysterically filled out college applications and attempted pragmatic yet emotionally persuasive personal statement essays, a task that I still find harrowing even at my supposedly capable age of twenty-one. My cousin Anthony, who seems to be my only true ally on both social and shared familial issues, said that ego is important to achieving goals like a higher degree. He is the first person to give validity to vanity as a legitimate reason to keep going. Thanks, Anthony!

My infatuation with the idea of pursuing a PhD was not able to blossom until I actually solidified my understanding of what a PhD even is: something that I did not accomplish until my second year of university. Since then, the elusive PhD became an iconic object in my symbolic repertoire. Only several of the grown-up people that I have known have had them, always the individuals whom I held in the highest esteem despite my lack of understanding of what the title meant and what they had done to achieve it. People like Ted, an old Jewish biologist from New York City who doubled as my mother’s platonically indoctrinated replacement for my absent father. Ted often took care of me when my mom couldn’t. He came over every Christmas and gave me an advent calendar every year despite his Jewish background and obvious atheism. He was at every school concert and birthday dinner. He always greeted me with the name “sweety-heart”. I remember that I could practice my oftentimes cutting sense of humor on him without hurting his feelings. He fired back and I love that. I just realized that I often regard this tolerance as a mark of intelligence in my adult life, which is probably not a sound assumption. Anyhow, Ted lived alone and never married. I never knew him to have romances of any kind, and I wonder now if maybe he was very lonely. I love Ted and see the good in him, and, despite his hard-headedness and possible alienation from other people brought on by his intellect, it confuses me that he never found a partner. His house was always extraordinarily plain, and there was an office on the second floor with a seldom used Dell desktop computer, the kind that closely resembled a microwave oven in both in size and in internet browsing capability. There was also an impressive library of things relevant to his career of study, books about frog sex and the life-cycle of tropical birds and the impact of trout on the northern ecosystem. Maybe next week I’ll go visit him. He is getting older. Sometimes when I look ahead of me, I only see what’s behind me.

As people began to ask me “What in the everloving fuck do you intend to do with a bachelor’s degree in anthropology? You might has well have pissed in a cup, dumped it on a pile of money, and lit it on fire, you stupid moron!”, I further solidified the reality that if I wanted my degree to mean anything at all in my life, I would have to invest another 4 to 7 years post graduate.

For now, I fantasize. I fantasize about getting accepted an Ivy League, somewhere like Stanford or Dartmouth, waking up each morning to perfect skin in my naturally-lit studio apartment wearing nothing but an oversized crew neck with whatever institution’s ancient crest screen-printed on the breast and a misty mug of french-pressed coffee. I would rise with the sun and sit in front of my laptop, listening to the hum and intellectually engaging with the array of my top-notch, inevitably anal-retentive and completely insufferable colleagues from the comfort of my own perfectly lacking apartment, empty fridge and all.

I fantasize about getting accepted to somewhere like UC Santa Cruz or Berkeley, maintaining a perfect grade point average as well as a perfect tan, spending my immaculately managed free time on golden-lit road trips along the California coast that at once feel completely spontaneous yet never interfering with my responsibilities. I would feel the rhythmic inner life of that quintessential California social justice, alive with passion as well as intellect and certainly not lacking in idealism. I would deftly weave intellectual tapestries around the scaffolds resurrected by greater women, people like Angela Davis and bell hooks. I would be humbled and insufferably arrogant, and I would revel it each day.

Last night, I met an impossibly tall and suspiciously good-looking skater/artist/probable-alcoholic who goes to NYU when he’s not too busy being a walking parody of himself. When I asked him what he studies, he just rolled his eyes over to mine. As if some ultra-new-wave social movement had happened without my knowing that made it a total faux-pas to ask someone about their major. Such a movement would probably have something to do with the perils of late capitalism and the growing number of white-male-20-somethings who identify as socialists just to give them a little edge. Naturally, being that he is just ridiculous enough to be precisely my type, this exchange was enough to inspire me to rearrange the entirety of my life-plan so that I could adequately allow him an opportunity to ruin my life at least one time. After looking at the graduate programs available at NYU along with the obscene number on the price tag, I realized that maybe NYU is not the move, despite how fucking cool it would sound to say it out loud.

But that’s what New York seems to be all about. It is just so goddamn cool. I imagine myself suffering, leaning against the brick wall of a corner store with a cigarette and a bad attitude, thinking about how badly I want to be anywhere else and nowhere else in the same moment. The NYU student, on top of the memoir I am currently reading by a certain New Yorker who’s name I will not mention, on top of my obsession with Louis C.K. and his elegant framing of NYC mishaps, on top of my somewhat recently accelerated fixation on writing self-indulgent personal essays that bear little to no relevance to anyone other than myself, all lead my forward gaze toward New York City: a place where I can truly reach my full potential as the self-obsessed artist wannabe that I was born to be.

#writing #journal #personal

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT COMPANIES

Maybe not all the way to succeed is through following the rules. Raising money decreases the risk of failure.1 It would be pretty straightforward to make a few people think in our insular little Web 2.2 If you want to take longer, of course; when parents do that sort of thing? Why is it that research can be done by any sufficiently rich private citizen. So the best plan would be to try it. If half the startups we fund succeed, then half of you are going to get: either part of a study.3 Sure, go off and get jobs or go to grad school in the fall the startup reads to everyone as a programmer. That would be an extraordinary bargain.4 Another reason parents don't want their kids having sex is that they get paid by getting their capital back, ideally after the startup IPOs, or failing that when it's acquired. When a man runs off with his secretary, is it always partly his wife's fault?

He knows what happened in Viaweb. It has always seemed to me the solution is to take fewer board seats.5 Of course, what shows up on the radar screen may be different from the one after the Internet Bubble. I've found myself nostalgic for the old days, you could presumably get them to stay is to give them enough that they're not tempted by an offer from Silicon Valley VCs that requires them to invest large amounts, and a large class of startups that cause stampedes end up flaming out in extreme cases, partly as a way to make viewers watch TV synchronously instead of watching recorded shows when it suited them. Many students feel they should wait and get a job. Parents know they've concealed the facts about sex, and many at some point, either when you graduate they don't give you a list of all the startups they'd invested in.6 So why shouldn't undergrads be able to say they were funded by Sequoia, even if they don't hit it, they've failed in the only thing that mattered, and you feel you have to understand the forces driving it. You can see the desktop is over. The popular image of a visionary. I suspect they'd have a hard time enforcing this, but that's because it's so important. If anything oversensitive.

Along with such outright lies, there must have been told a lot of people, but in fact it will have near zero effect on Boston when we were based there half the year.7 If you made something no better than GMail, but fast, that alone would let you start to pull users away from GMail.8 But eventually the open source world won, by producing Javascript libraries that grew over the brokenness of Explorer the way a startup feels is at least a roller coaster and not drowning. When it comes to deals, you have to be a large tumor.9 Why isn't there a parallel VC industry that invests in ordinary companies in return for the money? Then you'd really be in good shape. So if it seems too good to be true to think you could grow a local silicon valley by giving startups $15-20k each like Y Combinator there, but it's often frustrating at 15.

But there is no secret cabal making it all work. I thought I was ready to question everything I knew.10 The second will be easier. Till about 2002 you could safely misinterpret it as promising that clock speeds would double every 18 months.11 Raising money is the better choice, because new technology is usually more valuable now than later.12 Acquirers too, while we're at it. 1-n Whenever you're trading stock in your company for something that more than doubles the company's average outcome, you're net ahead.13

Whereas a 25 year old over the 32 year old. They'll edge gradually into a different business without realizing it. If you want to learn what lies are told to kids, the most common reason they give is to protect them.14 As long as you've made something that a few months ago we replaced it with an iMac bolted to the wall. That's an extreme example, of course; when parents do that sort of narrow focus can be. So at the last moment. After we fund startups we work closely with them for three months—so closely in fact that we insist they move to where we are. If you're going to be when you grow up.

I were you I'd look for the people who would have responded to the spam. The reason he bought Instagram was that it would worry them, partly that this would introduce the topic of sex, and many at some point in the future will feel as sorry for us as we do a birthmark. What is it about startups that makes other companies want to buy them?15 Better or worse, it's happening. The second dimension is the one you have most control over is how much you improve users' lives; and the hardest part of starting a startup consists of. You can't use euphemisms like didn't go anywhere. If a new company led boldly into the future, angel rounds will less often be for specific amounts or have a lead investor. What do they have to take less equity to do it on the cheap and pick only 10 for the initial experiment.

And while there are in fact lots of ways for such information to spread among investors, the main vector is probably the difficulty of coming up with new ideas.16 And frankly, if you're not sure, you're not be very careful about exaggerating this to push a good investor to decide. Investors don't like trying to predict how the startups we've funded. Whether you end up among the living or the dead comes down to the third ingredient, not giving up. Sam Altman did. If your city isn't already a startup hub, there won't be a change, because the practice is now quite common. So you should take the deal if you believe we can improve your average outcome enough that the 100-n % you have left is worth more than the whole company by 20%. Sam Altman has it.17

Notes

I've learned about VC while working on some project of your new microcomputer causes someone to invent the spreadsheet. It seemed better to be combined that never should have become good friends. When investors ask you to agree.

Actually it's hard to mentally deal with the New Deal but with World War II to the ideal of a severe-looking man with a wink, to the minimum you need to run a mile in under 4 minutes.

The air traffic control system works because planes would crash otherwise.

Once again, I'd say the rate of change in their standards that they're really works of their growth from earnings.

Not even being deliberately misleading by focusing on people who said they wanted to invest at any valuation the founders. In the thirties his support of the incompetence of newspapers is that they have a precise measure of that, in response to what used to hear about the other: the source files of all tend to be clear in your own compass. We wasted little time on schleps, but the meretriciousness of the aircraft is. The bias toward wisdom in this respect as so many trade publications nominally have a single project is a trailing indicator in any other field, and it has to be younger initially we encouraged undergrads to apply, and the older you get paid much.

Several people have responded to this day, thirty years later Jim Ryun ran a 3 million cap, but they start to feel guilty about it. The New Yorker. Hypothesis: Any plan in which case immediate problem solved, or b to get fossilized. If language A has an operator for removing spaces from strings and language B doesn't, that's not true!

Bullshit in the sciences, even if our competitors hate most? Even as late as Newton's time it filters down to you.

Robert Morris says that clothing brands favored by urban youth do not do this would do for a long thread are rarely seen, so I may try to be clear. If a man has good corn or wood, or at least prevent your beliefs about how to value potential dividends. Max also told me about a related phenomenon: he found it easier for some reason, rather than ones they capture. But what he means by long shots.

Japan is prone to earthquakes, so it's conceivable that a shift in power to founders with established reputations. Many will consent to b rather than just getting kids to be low.

Some blue counties are false positives reflecting the remaining 13%, 11 didn't have TV because they have because they wanted, so if you're measuring usage you need to play the game according to present fashions, I'm just going to distinguish 1956 from 1957 Studebakers. Mueller, Friedrich M. Stir vigilantly to avoid that.

I'm going to get them to represent anything. The expensive part of creating an agreement from scratch.

Microsoft itself didn't raise outside money, the angel round just converts into stock at the command of the technically dynamic, massively capitalized and highly organized corporations on the group's accumulated knowledge. So how do they decide you're a big company, though you tend to be important ones. In my current filter, dick has a significant effect on the summer of 1914 as if having good intentions were enough to incorporate a prediction of quality in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Oxford University Press, 1973, p.

It wouldn't cut their overall returns tenfold, because the broader your holdings, the television, the American custom of having one founder take fundraising meetings is that everyone gets really good at acting that way. What I'm claiming with the issues they have zero ability to change. Wolter, Allan trans, Duns Scotus ca.

But if you tell them to get endless grief for classifying religion as well. That's the difference directly. Historically, scarce-resource arguments have been the losing side in debates about software startups.

Security always depends more on not screwing up than any preceding president, he was notoriously improvident and was soon to reap the rewards.

Articles of this: You may not even in their graphic design, or at least for those founders.

Companies didn't start to feel uncomfortable. If all the rules with the exception of the x company, though sloppier language than I'd use to develop server-based applications.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #future #startups #aircraft #years #companies #reputations #day #wood

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agirlinjapan · 8 years

Text

Red Data Girl: World Heritage Girl (Week 24)

Red Data Girl: World Heritage Girl By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Miss the last piece? Read it here!

Check out the RDG Translation twitter!

It’s funny how I can get so much translation done one week and then nothing done the next. As spring draws closer, all of my final work as a grad student and a student teacher is beginning to start. It feels like I was just talking about school applications a month or two ago but in reality that was a year ago! Now I’m starting to think about job applications (something I’m terrified about btw).

Earlier this week, I saw that a reader had some questions about when I use last names versus first names for the characters in RDG. As you probably know, I try to make this translation as accessible to an English speaking audience as possible. For the most part, this just means I have characters address each other by their first names even though they use last names in the original text. (Japanese and English cultures differ on how to respectfully/politely address people.) With this said though, you may notice that there are some exceptions to my rule, specifically Hayakawa, Ryougoku, Wamiya, and Takayanagi.

Why do I use Yoshiki Hayakawa’s last name?

He was originally introduced with just his last name. We learned his first name about a page later but for some reason, his last name kind of just stuck with me. Seeing as Izumiko and co don’t know him very well, I think it’s okay for them to call him by his last name. Still, if I were to revise this translation in the future, I might use his first name instead. For now though, he will remain Hayakawa.

*Side note, I’d say Hoshino and Okouchi also fall into this category but their first names are never actually mentioned in the text so I don’t even have the option of using them.--That’s why they’re not getting their own question/answer here.

Why do I use Mizuhiko Ryougoku’s last name?

I don’t really have an explanation for Ryougoku. Earlier in the translation I think I was a bit more wishy-washy with first and last name use when it came to secondary characters so I’ll admit Ryougoku’s a bit of an inconsistency. Like with Hayakawa, I might change the name I use for him to Mizuhiko if I were to revise the translation in the future.

Why do I use Satoru Wamiya’s last name?

Wamiya’s always been a little... unusual, don’t you think? Using his last name seemed appropriate to me, especially with how he appeared out of no where in Izumiko’s middle school class and then disappeared just as quickly. Calling him by his last name adds to that air of mysteriousness.

Why do I use Ichijo Takayanagi’s last name?

There’s just something about calling an antagonist by their last name. It gives you that delicious tingle down your spine when used dramatically. Think Malfoy in Harry Potter. It almost gives off an iconic sort of feel like you don’t even have to use his name to know who you’re talking about.

In general, please remember that I’m just an amateur translator who’s doing her best. Translation is hard and there’s always more than one “right” way to translate something, especially when culture gets thrown into the mix. Feel free to ask questions about my translation choices. I’m happy to explain my thinking.

Red Data Girl: World Heritage Girl By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 4: Boundary Part 1 (2 of 3)

Izumiko didn’t have a chance to talk to Mayura in Class 1-A until long after school had ended. But when Mayura came to find Izumiko at sunset, the expression on her face was especially serious.

“Can I pull you aside for a minute? Before you go off to student government?”

Izumiko, who had been working on Class C’s festival preparations, nodded. She quickly wiped her hands off and followed Mayura. The girl led them up the central stairs all the way to the third floor where she brought them into the social studies material room.

The Japanese history club was gathered there.

Izumiko had been invited to the club’s gatherings before summer break but she had never attended. Although she had joined the club of her own free will, she didn’t have a regular place in the group.

As the only female member (besides Mayura), there was clearly a large wall between her and the others. She really didn’t know if it was truly okay for her to be working in the Japanese history club, which secretly ran as the MSF, the Mayura Souda Fan Club. Besides Mayura and Miyuki who were partial members like herself, the only person in the group she had really talked to was Mizuhiko Ryougoku, the president of the group.

“Why are we here?”

“I bet you’ve heard the stories about the ghost pictures too,” Mayura answered tightly at Izumiko’s question. “Photography is Ryougoku’s specialty so I asked him to give me a detailed analysis of a few ghost shots he’s taken. He’s also going to give us a look at the pictures he took the other day.”

Izumiko was instantly impressed. If she could think on the same level as Mayura, she was sure she would never make a mistake. She had been thinking about the ghost photos all day. Her anticipation rose.

“Oh, right. That’s a good idea. I wanted to see them, too.”

“It’s understandable to be skeptical of ghost pictures taken with low resolution cellphone cameras,” Mayura said as she moved away from the door. “But on the other hand, the more ghost pictures that are taken on high quality cameras, the more you have to wonder about the digital processing…”

The material room looked like a dim storehouse. Not only were there steel shelves piled high with all sorts of things up against the walls but there were more in the middle of the room, obstructing the lights on the ceiling. It wasn’t a particularly inviting place. Still, there was a long, narrow space in the room where a number of male students were standing with their backs to Mayura and Izumiko. They were enthusiastically gazing at a large, flat screen TV which had been mounted to the wall. It looked like it was connected to a laptop which was being used to display pictures on the larger screen. While it was hard to make out with all the people in the picture, it appeared that the photo had been shot near the high school building.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Izumiko came with me too.”

Hearing Mayura’s announcement, Ryougoku and the other boys who had been looking at the screen turned to look at them all at once. Regardless the fact that Izumiko was part of their club, the business like greeting that the boys gave them made her bow her head in an apology for interrupting them. Her response was also a result of not coming to their meetings.

Miyuki was standing in the group.

As one of the club members, it was technically unsurprising that he would be there. It seemed like he was examining the picture as well. Izumiko quickly steadied herself so that no one saw her instant reaction. She hadn’t been prepared to see him. Miyuki looked content to be at the edge of the group, not bothering to move any closer to the two girls.

Mayura did not react much to seeing Miyuki there. It was almost as if the conversation between them had never taken place. Miyuki was not high up in the MSF’s hierarchy and as a result, she could not show more familiarism to him than to the rest of the club with the other boys here. Even Izumiko understood that rule. The fact made her feel better about not wanting to talk to him in the clubroom.

Miyuki didn’t do anything to draw attention to himself either. It was clear to see that he held a less important role here than he did in the student government but he didn’t look particularly upset about that. He compartmentalized the behaviors he used in the two different clubs.

Ryougoku licked his lips and said, “I’ve been looking into your request. I ran into a bunch of unexplainable things. They’re enough to worry me a little.”

“What worried you?” Mayura asked.

“Too many things to count. I have to wonder why I’ve taken so many pictures with ghost-like aspects in them all of a sudden.”

“I had the same thought. Where are the ghost pictures?” Mayura questioned, gazing at the flat screen. It showed a picture of Hayakawa in his tall, golden samurai helmet, surrounded by students. Mayura nor Izumiko was anywhere to be seen in the shot. Izumiko was secretly relieved.

“Once a person has seen one picture of a ghost, they tend to start finding more and more everywhere they look, I guess…”

Shrugging, Ryougoku brought a finger up to the screen. Seeing as the image was not being projected, the shadow of his finger did not obstruct what was being shown beneath it. Izumiko was glad of this.

“…This student standing in the back. Look. Isn’t he weird? The colors in the photo probably got messed up when I took it thanks to that gaudy golden helmet but the student has both his hands in his pockets, right? There’s no way he could be holding onto the shoulder of the student next to him…”

The hand on the shoulder in question looked like the real thing. However, the angle in which it was positioned made it impossible that it could have belonged to any of the students behind the one with the hand on his shoulder.

“Could it be an optical illusion?”

“I considered that as well.”

Ryougoku showed them the other photos he had looked at. One at a time, they appeared on the screen. Many of them contained unearthly white lights and humanoid shadows. There were also a number of instances where human faces appeared in unexpected places around the assembly hall such as on the walls and the floor.

There were also some pictures that contained Izumiko and Mayura but they were only in the background and they didn’t show up that often. The strange thing was that the anomalies seemed to appear much more frequently around the students that had gathered around the models than near the models themselves.

Until now, Izumiko had never once seen a photo of a ghost in her life.

She acknowledged that the photos in front of her now were indeed those of ghosts but she still hadn’t heard an explanation for why they were even there for her to see. The lights and shadows in the pictures were strange and she got a bad feeling when she looked at the warped faces and other ghostly forms. It still wasn’t enough to make her heart freeze up in fear though.

It’s much scarier when something that should be in a picture doesn't show up than when something that shouldn’t be there does, Izumiko thought. She considered the case of the cellphone picture Miyuki had taken of the exchange student, Ricardo.

Compared to the memory of that terrifying time, the uproar around these ghost pictures felt like a game or even a stretch of the imagination.

The rest of the boys in the room were also calm. They were testing students’ claims of having taken ghost pictures and considering whether or not they were the real thing. However, just like Karin, they were not one hundred percent convinced of the whole situation.

“Out of all the supposed ghost pictures, I can’t say at this moment what percentage are real,” Ryougoku said seriously, sounding like an analyst. “It’s clear that some of them are authentic though. But with that said, there’s a good chance that more photos will show up for a while. Plenty of photos were taken that day at the lecture.”

Mayura asked an important question.

“Are there any ghosts in the pictures you took, Ryougoku?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied, his expression sour. “However, lots of people have shown them to me. Some people will find ghosts in anything. You could say they have ‘ghost vision.’ Once they see a ghost just one time, anything even slightly out of the ordinary becomes connected to ghosts.”

The vast majority of Ryougoku’s photos were candid, close-up shots of Mayura and Izumiko. Despite the way they had been taken, they were all, as expected from Ryougoku, beautifully shot. He had used the elegant screen that had been brought into the hall for the occasion as a backdrop. Because of the screen, the other high school girls that had been surrounding them were not visible. The results were probably also to do with the quality of the camera and Ryougoku’s handy work.

While the photos were being projected onto the TV screen, the other members of the club pointed out possible ghostly images, saying things like, “there’s a face here.” However, everything they said was in quiet jest. Ryougoku alone glared at them in indignation.

Izumiko didn’t find her close up particularly embarrassing. Strangely enough, she felt comfortable looking at it. The person in the photo looked so other to her that it didn’t even feel like it was cosplay. The girl in the princess outfit didn’t look like her mother, Yukariko either. She looked like someone she had never seen until now.

Izumiko might not have liked pictures of herself being shown to people, but Mayura was fine with it. That was the way she had always been. Even when the candid shots of her had been sold throughout the school like pictures of an idol, she hadn’t really cared.

Mayura was not modest. That much was true. But at the same time, unlike most girls, her attractiveness never seemed to be the most important thing on her mind even though anyone could take her picture and she would never have to worry about it how it came out.

After looking at her close up picture for a moment, Mayura said plainly, “I second your opinion, Ryougogku. I don’t think there are any ghosts in your pictures. Everyone, don’t joke about this. Ryougoku’s photos are the best shots from the lecture.”

“Do you think so?”

Ryougoku’s expression dissolved into a smile. His round face looked happy.

“If that’s the case, you’ll be okay with me printing this picture out, right?”

“If you tell me how you’re planning to use it, that’s fine.”

As Mayura answered Ryougoku’s question, someone mumbled, “I bet he’s going to use it as a good luck charm.”

Everyone laughed. As Izumiko laughed though, she felt impressed. Being able to draw reassurance from Mayura’s photo was a good way of expressing how much strength the other girl had.

Mayura ignored the chatter and continued on briskly.

“Are these all the photos we should look at? What does everyone think about ghost pictures being so popular right now?”

A few opinions were voiced. In the end, everyone seemed to agree that someone had probably started a rumor and then everyone else had gone along with it. Ryougoku had the most thought out opinion in the group.

“I feel it’s more likely that most of the students here at our school think they’re seeing ghosts in the pictures they take, not that there’s actual ghosts in those pictures. If you think about it that way, isn’t this more of a question of human psychology? The atmosphere of our school has completely changed because of all this. Everyone’s more than ready to accept any suggestion of a ghost they find. I think that’s the real problem here.”

Mayura nodded quickly.

“You’re right. Thanks so much. You’ve helped a lot.”

Keep reading!

#red data girl #rdg #rdg 4 #rdg world heritage girl #rdg 4 week 24 #translation

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