#* / live every day like the plane might crash ( queue )

[saviorscrossed]

@empathiques cont. from here!

           THEY’VE BEEN WALKING A VERY FINE LINE. she’s always been flirty with parrish, kept things light-hearted and a little bit cheeky whenever she sees him. yeah, they made out once ( lexie gets a little... needy when she’s high ) but neither of them had thought too much about it. even if lexie’s always had a little crush on him. 

              her brow raises slightly, lips curling into a smirk as he moves in closer and closer, “ you think so? ” she says, inching in a tiny bit closer, lips brushing against his. lexie would be lying if she said she hasn’t thought about kissing him again; how fortunate that parrish is one last nudge away from reminding her just how good his lips feel against her own. “ what are you gonna do about it, pretty boy? ” she teases with a soft whisper. 

[joshslater]

A Week in Indiana

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was exhausted. It’s weird, because on long haul travel you have done nothing but relaxing. First on the initial connection, then at the airport, then at the trans Atlantic from Amsterdam to Chicago. I even napped a bit on it. Since that flight follows the earths rotation, you basically land at the same time as you start. Queues, immigration, wait for luggage, customs, relax some more at O’Hare. Finally followed by a decidedly less comfortable regional flight to Indiana, wait for luggage again, and out. And there he was, looking even better in person than he had on Skype the day before, waiting to pick me up. He was younger than me, but acted confident, cocky even. I like that.

- Hi there. How was the trip? - Long. I’m exhausted, like I said I would be. - It’s not far.

Americans have no idea what that word means. It wasn’t until an hour later we finally parked in his driveway. We had so much to talk about, but I made it perfectly clear that my mind wasn’t were it needed to be right now for anything serious. I quickly went online with my phone to cancel the backup hotel night I had, keeping some nights for the end of the week if things didn’t work out. Then I zoned out for most of the trip to his house.

- Let’s put your stuff in your room, head out for a bite and then you can go to sleep. - Head out? - I ain’t cooking.

The house was spacious living for a single dude, and probably the tidiest it been in a long while. Not that I paid much attention, as tired as I was. I would had preferred to just crash there and then, but I know from experience not to go to bed too early, or you’ll just wake up at midnight.

- Hey, can I get you something to drink? Coke, beer, water, absinthe? - A coke would be great. It’s dry in air planes.

A big, cold can of coke felt exactly like what I needed, despite the corn syrup. Rehydrated I carried my bags to the guest room, which doubled as a home gym. It’s silly, I know, but despite being so tired I found it kind of hot to be sleeping in a room where someone else had been working out. Well, I guess that’s the kind of shit we have in common, and the entire reason why I was here.

People really undersell the sheer amount of confusion when you wake up after having been drugged. Especially when you have been moved and things have been done to you. You didn’t plan for it, like going to sleep, and you have nothing to fall back to when you wake up to orient you. Everything around you is out of context. In addition to that, you still have residual effects and possible traces of the drugs in your system.

It’s impossible to estimate how much time it took to get a grip of the situation, but gradually I was aware that I was naked, tied to a bed, gagged and unable to see, possibly because of a pitch black room.

- Did you sleep well?

How long had it been? No way to tell. I feel like shit. I can feel him touching my naked chest. But that means he can see me, right? Why can I not see?

- I thought I would surprise you with a little transformation for yourself. This is the garage by the way. It’s not quite soundproof, but I don’t really need that, do I.

I don’t know what kind of gag he is using, but I can’t move my mouth in any direction. It feel like he had put some clay-like plastics into my mouth, had me bite into it, and then have it harden. I want to scream. I don’t want any piercings or tattoos or whatever. I shout that whatever his plans are, I want out. The best I could muster was an agitated hum.

I feel something cold against first my left nipple, and then both. Some sort of gel. Then some object is put there. Are these suction cups? Then a motor sound starts and I feel a rhythmic suction on my nipples. Guess they are.

- You should just relax. I don’t know anything about hypno, and you said it doesn’t work on you, but just so you have something to listen to I’ve downloaded a few things.

He puts earphones on me with the typical nonsense with multiple voices all talking over each other that all hypno mp3 files are so fond of. Then I feel him doing something with my gag, and a small trickle of fluid at the back of my throat, and then everything gets fuzzy.

- And here is something to keep you stupid. Enjoy the ride.

I’m too tired and drugged to analyze what is happening. I’m swimming in black velvet soup of words. I should relax, I’m told, be calm and follow instructions. I’m barely even aware I have a body, but occasionally the senses intrude into the bliss and I can feel the suction cups removed, more cool gel applied, and then the cups put back. Everything just gets softer and softer until everything ceases to be.

There’s no audio anymore.

- Hello, sleepy beauty. Are you ready for something solid to eat? - Yeah...

Wait? When did he remove the gag. Why can’t I see?

- Just be still, and I’ll remove the IV.

I could feel the short sting of an IV needle being pulled out, and felt him bandage the arm. What did he put into me? Where did he get an IV from in the first place?

- Now, just be still while I undo the restraints.

Any kind of resistance would be pointless. I was naked, in an unfamiliar room, and completely blind. I just followed along with his movements as he released my arms and legs. He then helped me on my feet and led me from the garage and through the house.

- So, I’ve prepared an outfit for you. Just put it on and we are ready for dinner. It’s all your size. Now, be very still and I’ll remove your black contact lenses.

So that’s what he had done. He was way better at removing them than I think I would have been, had he just asked me to remove them myself. As I blinked in the light I saw I was back in the guest room. My bags were no where to be seen, and on the bed was a small line up of clothes.

I turn to the mirror and see myself, but instead of my normal hairdo my head is almost completely shaved, save for a few millimeter Mohawk. Secondly, and more concerning, my nipples are huge. Like finger tip huge. He’s observing me from the door.

- Cortisone cream and a modified milking machine, and a few tricks. They will shrink a little bit, but not much. You’ll look like this from now on.

I don’t even have the energy to yell at him. If it is permanent, as he say, screaming doesn’t help. I need to get away from him before he can do whatever else he has planned for the week. It’s only day.... Actually I don’t know how long it’s been. One day? Two days?

- Just get dressed, and we can be on our way. Bring the ID so we can take a beer as well. - OK.

I look at the items laid out for me at the bed again, next to my passport. One black tank top with white hem in some sporty mesh material with the text “PUMP!” printed on the front. Blue, short adidas polyester shorts with white stripes. White, calf high socks with two black rings at the top. Black adidas shoes with white stripes. The only things missing for a stereotype bingo is a whistle, glow sticks and some molly.

No underwear, apparently. I put on the shorts. Like hell “all your size”. The shorts are tight and doesn’t leave my dick size to anyone’s imagination. Socks and shoes go on fine. I brace myself and put on the top. My tits feels like sparklers, shooting nerve signals all through my body. I can feel the tight shorts getting even tighter. I feel slutty.

On the way to dinner he is quite chatty. Talking about the buildings and neighborhoods we drive by, as if he hadn’t drugged and violated me for hours, perhaps days. He is casually dressed, Levis’ jeans and American Eagle polo. Still he manage to outclass me by an order of magnitude. Dinner is at P.F. Chang’s, so not at all fancy. Still I feel like everyone is looking, and judging. Everyone we pass on the parking lot, through the mall, at the front of house, on the way to our table. Everyone can clearly see my tits and my dick through the fabric. My haircut practically shouts for attention. My clothes even more so. And it’s not like I’m part of a group that has dressed up, or down. I’m lead here by someone dressed normal. A regular dude and his slut.

Sitting down feels better, with a table hiding my lower body, but it still feels like I’m in public in just underwear, having two flashing tits.

- Hey, relax. Calm your tits.

It was such a cheesy joke, I exploded in laughter. He’s right of course. It’s not like I’m hurt or massively disfigured. Most people will never even see it, once I’m in decent clothes. No one around me knows me, and I’ll never see them again. This is me experiencing something I could never have set up myself. Besides, I can’t really do anything about my situation except flagging down a cop, so I might as well enjoy it. I ordered the Dynamite Shrimps, the Singapore black pepper chicken and a steady flow of diet coke.

Man, was I hungry. It was tasty and I even managed to relax, though my tits kept rubbing against the mesh fabric, keeping me semi erect. And every time someone passed by, I got a twinge of feeling exposed, feeling “slutty”. We chatted a bit about ourselves, kind of how I had imagined our first real meal would have gone. When we were both done we asked for a refill and the bill. I managed to hide it, but I got quite the shock reading it. It said Tuesday. I arrived Saturday afternoon, so I had been drugged for three whole days! I don’t think he noticed my shock, because he leaned over and asked me, in a hushed voice “Are you ready to leave, slutty fuckboi?”.

Right away my dick throbbed into almost fully erect, and it was very close to pump custard into the shorts. Of course! The fucking hypno loops! That’s why I have been so docile since I woke up. “Slutty fuckboi” and “Calm your tits” were trigger phrases. Tits?! They are nipples. I’ve even been conditioned to refer to them as tits. I’m sure there are some programming about feeling self conscious and “slutty” as well. Who the fuck does he think he is! I must escape right now!

- Almost. I need to go to the boy’s room first. - I bet you do. You drank quite a lot.

I need to walk through two thirds of the restaurant to reach the restroom. Again I feel like I’m under dressed, overexposed and it would be hard to miss my raging erection in the hilariously tight adidas. I keep a fast but calm stride. Running would just draw even more attention.

I even have a hard time pulling down the shorts. They are almost locked in place by my swollen deadbolt. I stand feet together, slide the shorts straight down and turn to the sink to chill my dick in cold water. After the erection is gone I take a leak, pull up the shorts, and that’s when I feel the passport in my pocket. I had almost forgotten about it. I still have a reservation at the hotel. My credit card is on file and I have an ID to show. It must be within just a few miles, and if anything I’m dressed for exercise.

I don’t have a phone or a watch, so I don’t know exactly how long it took, but I guess about two hours to sneak out through the other entrance, ask mall information on the location of Holiday Inn, walk there without Google Maps, manage to check in with a receptionist who clearly didn’t approve of my attire, and have a lie down in bed. I should call Amex and have them block my credit card and send a new one to the hotel. Should I call him and tell him to send my bag here? Would it be risky to let him know where I stay? Would it be risky to even talk to him? That’s when the phone rang.

- Room 304. - Calm your tits, bottom boy. Isn’t it time to continue your transformation? - Yes, it is. - Cool. Pick you up in half an hour. - OK.

Shit. I’m broken.

[roseisread]

My Year in Movies: Favorite Non-2018 Feature Films (Part 1)

I watched a LOT of movies this year. At last count, I had logged 229 features and 126 shorts; and that doesn’t count rewatches--only movies that were new to me.

I set a few challenges for myself as well this year. The first one was to watch at least one non-English language/US release per week--this exposed me to so much world cinema and some really amazing filmmakers. Anyone who avoids foreign films because “I don’t like subtitles” is really missing out, and I found myself craving these narratives from voices I don’t ordinarily get exposed to in my everyday life. 

Other personal challenges: Watching as many horror movies as possible in October (with horror defined pretty loosely so I could include entries from silent era and onward, as well as some comedy cult classics that have horror/thriller elements); participating in Noirvember (in addition to attending Noir City in Chicago); crossing off some major blindspots from my list (such as Bicycle Thieves, The Producers, Lethal Weapon, A Few Good Men, Grease, Home Alone 2, Brazil, and Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom); and trying to watch movies and short films from every decade that motion pictures have existed.

In 2019, I hope to do similar personal challenges with a focus on movies made by women, LGBTQ+, and people of color, in addition to filling in the gaps of my classical/canonical movie knowledge. 

OK, so that’s enough preamble. Let’s get to the list! For this list, I’m excluding movies that were released in 2018--that’s coming but this is for movies released before that. 

50. Linda Linda Linda (2005, directed by Nobuhiro Yamashita, country of origin: Japan)

High school girls recruit the Korean exchange student (Doona Bae, of Cloud Atlas and Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance) to join their rock band a few days before the school talent show. This is just a feel good film, recommended if you enjoyed the likes of Sing Street, We Are The Best!, and The Runaways. Unfortunately, it’s out of print in physical form; but last I checked someone had uploaded it to YouTube so you might want to get on that before it’s removed. You can watch the trailer here.

49. The Blue Dahlia (1946, directed by George Marshall, country of origin: US)

This film noir stars Veronica Lake and Alan Ladd, and like any good noir, it deals with dark subjects including murder, blackmail, political corruption, and PTSD. It’s been on my watchlist for a long time, and thanks to Noir City Chicago, I got to see it on the big screen at the Music Box Theatre. For small screen viewing, you can catch up with it via rental on Vudu, Amazon, iTunes... the usual suspects. 

48. Siren of the Tropics (1927, directed by Mario Nalpas and Henri Etievant, country of origin: France)

My dearly departed Filmstruck had a spotlight on the films of Josephine Baker, and this was among them. I fell in love instantly with the lively, beautiful Baker, here playing a woman named Papitou who deals with some super scummy dudes but manages to be herself in the face of all that nonsense. Silent films can sometimes be tougher to engage with for modern audiences, but this one flies by and contains some unexpectedly racy sequences for the time. Its racial politics don’t meet today’s cultural standards, but considering Baker’s parents were former slaves and their daughter went on to become the first woman of color to star in a major motion picture, this is still a landmark film worthy of our consideration. She broke down many barriers and contributed a great deal to both the entertainment world and the Civil Rights movement, and this serves as a nice entry point into her career. It’s available on DVD through Kino Lorber, and hopefully one day soon it’ll pop up on another streaming service that carries on the Filmstruck legacy.

47. I Don’t Feel At Home in This World Anymore (2017, directed by Macon Blair, country of origin: US)

Here’s a film that goes to some unexpected places. I had no idea what to expect from Macon Blair, who frequently appears in the movies of Jeremy Saulnier; but in his debut feature for Netflix, he pulled out all the stops. Hilarious, violent, and intense, with memorable performances from stars Melanie Lynskey and Elijah Wood, this is a movie about getting in over your head and just going for it anyway. I don’t want to tell you about the plot because it’s best discovered through watching--just go to your nearest device and add it to your Netflix queue. 

46. Song of the Sea (2014, directed by Tomm Moore, country of origin: Ireland)

Absolutely gorgeous animation from the team that previously brought us The Secret of Kells, and a touching story that combines family and mythology. I adored this one. Watch it on Netflix or rent on the usual streaming sources--for a preview, click here. 

45. Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942, directed by Michael Curtiz, country of origin: US)

I always watch Independence Day on the Fourth of July; but in 2018, I decided to mix it up and cross this patriotic musical off the watchlist. I’d seen James Cagney’s gangster movies like White Heat and The Public Enemy, but seeing him sing and dance was a whole new joyous discovery. This movie is entertaining, funny, touching, and full of iconic sequences that other films would go on to borrow from. I absolutely loved it. Pretty sure I saw this on Filmstruck originally, but since that’s no longer possible you should be able to find it at your local public library or you can rent it for a couple bucks on Amazon, YouTube, iTunes, and the like. 

44. The Man Who Cheated Himself (1950, directed by Felix Feist, country of origin: US)

This tightly wound noir thriller pits brother against brother against the backdrop of 1950s San Francisco. Lee Cobb plays an aging bachelor and an accomplished police detective who falls for the wrong dame. His younger brother, played by John Dall (Gun Crazy, Rope), has just joined the police force and idolizes his older brother. Trouble strikes when the dame murders her no good husband and needs help from Cobb to cover it up. Naturally, Dall gets assigned to the case and as he begins to piece together the clues, he doesn’t like where they’re leading him. The climactic sequence is one of my favorite endings to a noir film, and I’ve seen a lot of them. Watch it for free if you have Amazon Prime; otherwise, there are a few versions uploaded to YouTube of varying quality or you could wait for it to pop up on TCM. 

43. Los Angeles Plays Itself (2003, directed by Thom Andersen, country of origin: US)

This documentary edits together clips from movies of every era that were filmed or set in Los Angeles, and explains through voiceover narration the significance of each location and the history of the motion pictures in LA. That’s it--very simple concept but also fascinating. I split this up over a couple nights because it’s pretty long, but if you’re a film fan or a Los Angeles native, this is well worth your time. The voiceover is kind of hilariously flat in its delivery--kind of a Steven Wright sound actually--but that sort of adds to the charm for me. Get a taste by watching the trailer, and then you can rent it on YouTube for $1.99.

42. A Simple Plan (1998, directed by Sam Raimi, country of origin: US)

It’s been almost two years since we lost Bill Paxton; I don’t know about you but I don’t think any other actor can really fill those shoes. This year I caught up with three films that showcased his talent: A Simple Plan, One False Move, and Frailty. He plays very different characters in each one but in many ways they all start off with a similar premise: Ordinary guy dreams of becoming more. What that “more” is for each character is what sets each film and performance apart, but Paxton provided a great canvas to paint these unique characters onto. He inhabited the ordinary man better than just about anyone. 

In this film, which I watched during Noirvember, Paxton plays Hank, a college-educated guy working a blue collar job in a small town, trying to make a better life for himself and his family. He’d like to get away from those small town roots, but his socially awkward brother Jacob (Billy Bob Thornton) relies on him. Unfortunately, Jacob is often accompanied by the hard-drinking loose canon Lou (Brent Briscoe). When the unlikely trio discover a crashed plane in the woods containing a suitcase full of cash, they each have ideas for how to handle the situation. Of course things escalate from there, and the way the movie explores human nature and family ties set this story apart. Available for online rental on the usual platforms.

41. The Iron Giant (1999, directed by Brad Bird, country of origin: US)

Given my obsession with Vin Diesel in the early 2000s, it’s pretty shocking I never saw this movie til now--sure, he and his glorious muscles don’t appear on screen, but he does provide the voice of the title character after all. When the Iron Giant made a controversial cameo in this year’s film adaptation of Ready Player One, I decided it was time I saw the source material for myself. 

This gorgeously animated fable unfolds during the Cold War era, and features an ET-inspired story arc of a young boy befriending an unlikely being that the government is looking for. If you’ve never seen it, this is definitely a must-watch. Currently available on Netflix, but rentable on other platforms too.

40. The Unsuspected (1947, directed by Michael Curtiz, country of origin: US)

I adore Claude Rains, star of this film and supporting actor in Curtiz’s more famous work, Casablanca. Here, he plays the host and narrator of a popular radio show that revolves around tales of murder--basically the Law and Order: SVU of its day. We learn early on that he sometimes draws inspiration for his broadcasts from real life criminals. When people in his own life start dropping dead, the plot thickens and he finds himself at the center of the action. A very suspenseful and well-plotted film noir, which is available from the Warner Archive collection on DVD. I got to see it at Noir City Chicago, and loved every second of it. 

That’s all for this entry--stay tuned for part two of this list, posting soon! 

[zeroeffortenvironment]

voyager

Do you know how far Voyager 1 is from earth at this moment? It's 13 Billion miles. That's with a B. We as a species made something with our own hands and then put it in interstellar space! I'm not sure what's more inconcievable, the sheer fact of it, or that it got to where it is because we hurled it there at a rate of 38,000 miles per hour, using machinery and knowhow that came from under those same hands. that's almost 50 times the speed of sound. certainly not the fastest thing we've ever threw in the air but this one also sends picture postcards from where he at!! this is with a setup that was bolted in place in 1977. That not only predates your stupid hashtag-riddled instagram feed, but predates instagram altogether, it predates quad band phones, GSM, CDMA, digital light sensor, internet, and based on the fact that you're reading this blog, it probably predated you too...

Anyway. pictures from Voyager reach us in about 20 hours. that's from what? 13 billion miles away. So assuming that I post something here every day (which of COURSE I do), I am happy to report that I am floating in the vacuum so far up the universe's Yeah that by comparison to me the voyager just got the memo and started packing for his trip. to be precise the reason why it's been 682 days is because I'm 1.86 light years away, which, in cubic inches and football fields is 1.0984153e+13 miles out. I'd type it out but I trust google on it. this figure has more places than I have neurons within my skull.

And that, your honour, is why it may SEEEM that I've been slacking on this blog for the last ahem.. 2 years.

It's 10 am, on December 23rd, 2017. I'm on a couch, Roxanna is asleep. It's properly chilly, but I'm not wearing socks, otherwise it wouldn't even be worth mentioning. A great big factory-like window graces a concrete wall to my left, deligently trying to keep out the sounds of a noxious hvac system of a shopping center across the street. For its size it's doing a pretty respectable job. Meanwhile to the right of me the dishwasher is having a deep-tech warehouse rave. the air is a mixture of coffee that's getting cold, and that indescribable but not necessarily unpleasant smell of a place on a cold day when you just wake up. I'm surrounded by plants, plants, some plants, pictures, paper, wires, a bicycle ominously hangs off the wall on a redwood shelf quietly waiting like a panther on a tree for the perfect moment to fall onto its victim. Ahead of me is the door into the bedroom. An ages-old ikea lamp curiously sticks its head out where my desk is, beyond that, more wires, more plants, our DIY plywood bed, graced by a pile of blankets, cats, and potentially roxanna, and an 8' closet door mirror. All of this aligned like planets on Voyager's journey with a reflection of my face at its end 2.25522e-15 light years away.

I look a little disheveled. but not awful. Roxanna has been putting pins in my hair for the last couple months because I refuse to cut it. She is convinced it looks adolescent left to its own devices. At work Jeff Su, our in-house older asian guy with a gray camry and no filter, remarked that I look like a golden poodle. I think it looks fine. more importantly I couldn't care less if anyone thinks otherwise.

This is beat-matched near perfectly with how I feel about almost everything else around me lately. Christmas is in two days, and I feel like all I want this year is to be floating in the vast nothingness of space in complete silence, absence of stimuli, thought or air pressure in my lungs. Or at least in a raft in the middle of a bay. Instead what might be happening is as follows: after christmas, the very morning of the 26ths, I have to be seen in a queue at the LA Federal Building at 7 am flat - that's when they open. I will be there with a heap of documents, forms, and passport photos procuring a same-day passport made using a citizenship certificate that I have just received in the mail which has the CORRECT spelling of my lastname. Once (or rather If) I get this, I am to pack expiditiously and be on a plane with Roxanna at 1AM the following day (27th), which will fly us to Morelia Mexico, where we will be joined by some of her bdgjillion relatives who will take us to a mountain cabin retreat at Zirauen. While out there we will be enjoying great company, and scenery whilst sleeping in a tent for a few days. Come the 28th or 29th (not sure) we set out for Caretero, and perhaps Guanojuato, where we will be impromptu-crashing at the home of other relatives. On the 3rd we fly back, ah! which reminds me - I need to send an email to my colleagues saying I won't be at work until the 4th. Which should technically be 5th because I am a human afterall and don't run on aderol.

ALL of this was figured out last night, between the hours of 5pm when I picked up my certificate in the mail and midnight or so. None of it was by me. I should really be teling this to my spouce, and I guess I will soon enough - but to me planning a last-minute trip of such complexity on such short notice is batshit insane, puts an undue burden on the folks that will be hosting us, and most importantly is the direct opposite of floating in a raft in the middle of the bay. And it is so by virtue of the fact that the latter constitutes Rest, the former - doesn't.

I don't doubt that parts of it will be fun, and I'll see lovely familiar faces and some beautiful places, but the problem really isn't our upcoming trip to Zirahuen, it isn't Mexico, Roxanna, or her great big army of amazing relatives. Btw it's worth a mention that I have already been to Mexico once for a Mayra and Tonio's wedding in Morelia last year, and had a blast.

The problem is not with traveling, it's with making plans. Or rather my perpetually empty calendar and never objecting to anything that other people may want to put on it.

Let's talk about Goals. Cheryl Crow's analysis of the matter falls way short of the Noble Peace prize - it is Not wanting what you got, not getting what you want, it's wanting something in the first place. You know what the hardest thing about meeting your goals is? THE absolute hardest thing no matter whether you're perfecting plie's in an intro ballet class or building the next Voyager - the hardest thing is having a goal in the first place. Because a goal worth having is the kind you absolutely can't live without - it defines you as much as your first and last name and your reflection in the mirror you see every day. With a goal like this, everything else is machine work - resources, design, problem solving, are all a matter of logic. I am convinced that all superhuman feats in history are results of having such goals, and have been dreamed, worked out, built, launched, and remembered because people woke up every morning, looking in the mirror and seeing the voyager reflect in their cornea...

Well, to get straight to point - I don't have one of these. And the longer i think about it the more I'm convinced that I never did. And if anything, this is one thing that keeps my mind completely devoid of thought as I float in my vacuum, and it is this:

if I want nothing and make zero effort towards achieving things I don't want (read: everything), then why the hell are there three achievement awards on my desk? why is my desk electric and goes up and down with a push of a button, and costs $3000 of company cash? How did I come up with Two degrees in Architecture at Cal Poly and UCLA? How did I even get INTO either of these two schools? How did I manage to not only get a job, but to keep it from 2009 until 2014, a period in architecture that was absolutely plagued by the recession. I am not putting myself on a pedestal here. The reason I bring up all these things is because I never looked at myself in the mirror and saw an architect with two degrees, three glass sculptures with my name etched into them, or the handful of buildings that I contributed design efforts to. None of this was ever a clear goal. Neither is the advancement up the ladder that I could be striving for, nor is architectural license that is the next logical step to your advancement up the ladder as an architect. I am not looking forward to any of that. I am particularly not looking forward to my performance review in early January where I will certainly be asked questions pertaining specifically to my ambitions in the firm, the industry, and my career direction.

It's a bizarre problem and I've learned to live with it - being exceptionally good at something but arguably having little interest in it. But it also leaves me in a perpetual search for something to BE interested in, because I'm a human, and we're a curious species, and I'm wired to have goals and predispositions. And like a bit-coin mining rig, my mind is occupied with this all the fucking time, to the point that I get tired of just thinking about it. In the meantime the world around me revolves according to its own rules. And whether I like it or not until I find something worth adjusting my trajectory for, I am at the mercy of the forces that make this world turn. So far, I think, they have been good to me. 

To this end I wonder if the Voyager gives two shits where it's going? here is an amazing thing - thousands of years of star gazing, invention, evolutionary thought and technological breakthroughs, wrapped up in a glistening contraption of elegant and perfectly straight trusses, it's own metallic mind and set of eyes forever traveling at 38,000 miles per hour. If the gods were to add up everything we achieved as a species and pick 10 top things - this is one of them! Here's an amazing thing that we made, and then we just sent it off away from us as fast as we fucking could. The only thing we know about the voyager's plans is that 44,000 years from now he has a date with a neighboring star. If that was ever someone's goal for it, they certainly aren't sticking around to achieve it. And thus I believe Voyager has no destination. it's moving in a straight line, occasionally adjusted by the orbits of planets it slingshots off of. And maybe the Voyager is also perfectly fine with that...

crap, I gotta pack...

[kalachand97-blog]

New Post has been published on Globeinfrom

New Post has been published on https://globeinform.com/m25-site-visitors-and-the-state-of-the-art-easter-weekend-travel/

M25 site visitors and the state-of-the-art Easter weekend travel

As employees clocked off for their lengthy weekend on Thursday, drivers were warned to plan beforehand as roads in and around London were probably to turn out to be clogged up with more site visitors.

Suitable Friday is the busiest day for London’s airports over the Easter weekend as hundreds of thousands of humans jet off to hotter climates.

This yr’s Easter weekend may also see a further half one million Brits hit the roads on their way to an in a single day live, tourism company Visit England warned.

around 20 million car trips are anticipated to be made across Britain over the four-day run and large tailbacks have been already mentioned on Thursday.

A twist of fate on the M25 at some stage in the morning saw drivers caught in massive queues whilst M20 drivers near Aylesford, Kent, faced 3 hours of gridlocked site visitors after a car crashed right into a lump of concrete.

Shipping facts experts Inrix said the worst-affected roads throughout the Easter getaway will be the most important motorways. Congestion black spots on the M25 will be among junctions nine at Leatherhead and 21 at Winch Hill Timber in which traffic joins the M1.

Drivers among these two junctions need to expect delays of up to 90 minutes.

Motorists heading in both directions at the M6 and southbound on the M5 in the direction of the West United states should also put together for keep-u.S.A.of just about an hour.

The Dartford Tunnel in each instruction is anticipated to be busy, the M4 between junctions two and thirteen, the M3 among junction and 8 and the M1 from junction six to twelve.

For the ones after a quieter journey, Easter Sunday is expected to be the day with the bottom traffic with 25 consistent with cent fewer cars than a mean Sunday.

Correct news for drivers visiting around London – there can be no Congestion Rate on Friday as it’s far a public vacation.

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[saviorscrossed]

@liveshaunted​ / “ keep  it  positive  as  you  slap  her  to  the  floor . ” - regina + maya / legally blonde: the musical sentence starters.

      “ WON’T THAT COMPROMISE THE WHOLE... INTIMIDATION THING? ” maya trusts regina with her life, knows that the eldest harley would never lead her astray, but keeping it positive? in the middle of a fight? it’s unheard of. she shrugs her shoulders, “ so what? i gotta go malibu barbie on this girl? will that keep me out of a cell? ” she has so many questions. 

[saviorscrossed]

@liveshaunted​ / break my muse in one ask.

It's quiet in the home, Buddy doesn't come running - he still did it, even if Harlow and Zion weren't together. Harlow struggled with maintaining the friendship after the break up, it was hard - so, he used drugs and alcohol as a way to cope. To the point it was noticeable by everyone. Though, sex. Just the thought of that had put him into panic, so he had stuck with drugs and alcohol. Then, tonight - he really just couldn't take it and so, a few hours ago after making sure there was enough food for Buddy before Zion's check in which he knows comes more rarely then before. Then, Harlow was in his room with his little note that he's had prepared for a long while, with Zion's name written on it. Telling him that, none of this was his fault, that Zion should never blame himself for Harlow's actions - that, Harlow is sorry, so deeply and truly sorry. All before he swallows a while bunch of sleeping pills his dealer gave him, washing it down with his favourite whiskey. Letting sleep take over him, and then... he was gone. 

Harlow was gone, Buddy was meowing and prodding his owner - trying to wake him up, but that will never happen. Harlow's dead, free from his pain and heartache for once in his life. Even if it happened with death.

         THERE’S SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT THIS MORNING. zion can’t figure out why; there isn’t anything logged into his phone calendar, so what’s with the weird feeling in his stomach? he tries to push it aside, sits up on the edge of his bed as he adjusts to the light in his room. zion still feels heavy, still reeling from his breakup with harlow even though he felt like he had no other choice. he’s always understood his partner- his ex partner’s coping mechanisms, knows that harlow isn’t ready to work through the traumas he experienced as a child. zion just wishes that he could’ve just talked to him. he didn’t need details, he would’ve listened to anything harlow had to say as long as he let him be there. 

           instead, he sat on the couch sick to his stomach as he learned that harlow chose to sleep with somebody else. he knows that everybody has their needs, but they’d never had that conversation. maybe he was foolish to think that monogamy was going to work for them, even more so to think that his own asexuality would offer some kind of reassurance that there was never any pressure for intimacy. zion doesn’t know where he went wrong, but the hurt and anger and betrayal was overwhelming. he hasn’t slept over at harlow’s place since he ended things, sees him less than he used to. the new routine sucks, but it’s something he knows he’ll slowly get used to. 

           today is another day where zion stops by to check in on harlow, to make sure he’s okay and not drinking himself to death. even though they weren’t together anymore, he still worries about him. he doesn’t think he’ll stop worrying about harlow. he stops by the diner to pick up some food for him, because zion knows he’s definitely not eating as often as he should, and walks the rest of the way to harlow’s place. 

           there’s no sign of harlow when he walks inside- not entirely unusual. sometimes he’s too hungover to get out of bed. the tv is still blaring, the twinkly lights zion hung up are still switched on, buddy’s food bowl is over-flowing... it’s overflowing? zion frowns as he sets the food down on the counter top. “ harlow? ” he calls out, expecting to hear some kind of groan from the bedroom. instead, all he hears is the faint yowl of the cat before there’s a light thud and the sound of paws thumping against the hardwood floors. zion crouches down as the cat rushes over to him, his hand outstretched, ready to pet him when buddy lightly bites his finger, “ ow! jesus... what the fuck, bud? ” 

           he gets up with a huff, taking no notice of the way buddy heads for the bedroom before circling back to zion. he does this a couple of times before zion even pulls his attention from his bleeding finger. buddy circles around his legs before heading back towards the bedroom with zion trailing behind him. " come on, asshole. you can’t stay in bed all day, ” zion teases lightly, pushing the door open with a wide grin. 

           it drops the second his eyes land on harlow’s still frame. “ dude, come on... don’t play with me, ” the worry sets in as he rushes into the room. the more he looks around, the more he finds. the empty bottle of whiskey sitting next to the empty bottle of sleeping pills sitting next to the note with his name on it. it’s not a pretty sight- harlow doesn’t look peaceful, he looks dead. 

            the rest of the day is a silent blur. he knows he called the emergency services, vaguely remembers cleaning the dried vomit from harlow’s face, but his grief and shock has numbed him completely. zion sits outside the bedroom, cochlear long since taken off and tossed on top of the note he’s read a hundred times. his knees are pulled to his chest, head tucked between them as he rakes his fingers through his hair. if zion thought that harlow cheating on him was enough to break him, then his death has left him shattered in a million pieces.

            the note says it’s not his fault, but zion can’t help but believe it is. he knew about harlow’s abandonment issues, knew that leaving him would screw up months of progress they’d made together. buddy is sitting at his feet, probably meowing at him, but zion can’t hear it. he can’t hear anything. he doesn’t want to. zion finally looks up from between his knees, wiping the latest flush of tears from his cheeks. he’s so tired of crying, longing for the numb feeling to return. he can’t help but think of someone else who liked to feel numb, what he’d use to trigger it. 

            that night, zion ends up blackout drunk on the couch. buddy curls up beside him as he passes out thinking about nothing but harlow; zion knows it's so far from what harlow wanted for him, but he can’t help but send himself down the same path. drugs, alcohol, & sex become the only things that can make him feel alive again. 

[saviorscrossed]

@lcstupstate​ / a dominating kiss to end an argument - josh & maya (roommates verse) / 

       this is it, it has to be. the last straw had been dangling over her head for the last few weeks, waiting to drop onto the giant pile of stuff that’ll collapse to the ground. she’s infuriated. josh has been the absolute worst. he’s left his dirty laundry laying around, dishes piling up in the sink, blasting music at 3 in the morning without any regard for her and the fact that she tries to cling to the minimal amount of sleep her mind will allow her to have. she’s spent the last 10 minutes yelling at him, telling him that he’s the worst person she’s ever met and that she can’t believe she ever had a crush on him. of course it triggers his own outburst, josh picking at her own flaws and wrongdoings. it should upset her, should have her screaming over top of him, but god he looks hot when he’s angry.  

she’s not even listening to him anymore, the rage in his eyes is igniting an inferno within her. her mind is going completely berserk, visuals of what he’d look like on top of her at that aforementioned midnight hour, the desperate whines and pleas she’d sing for him, the sound of her name on his lips. it sends shivers down her spine. before she knows it, her body is moving before her brain has a chance to catch up on what’s going on. maya searches his face, shaking her head, “ oh my god, shut the fuck up, ” she grabs him by the collar and pulls him down, her lips crashing into his. there’s nothing innocent about her kiss; it’s messy and intense, her tongue already in his mouth as she presses herself against him. she kisses him until she’s breathless, letting go of his collar and pushing him away, chest heaving as she slowly begins to process what’s just happened. did she really just kiss him? after spending the last god-knows-how-long telling him how much she hates him? “ what the fuck... ”

[saviorscrossed]

@sunsetsphantom​ /  ‘ i just want to tell you it takes everything in me not to call you ’ - luke & claudia / red (taylor’s version) meme. 

    “ i guess i should appreciate the fact that you don’t, ” she replies, her voice soft. she won’t tell him that she sits up most nights wondering if he will call, or even show up at her window because that’s not something anyone is supposed to do after a breakup. she’s not supposed to listen to their songs, or go through her camera roll that’s filled with pictures of them, both sweet and goofy. she isn’t supposed to think of him every time she wanders past their old spots, or wear his old, sleeveless band shirts to bed. claudia seems to be doing everything that she shouldn’t, and part of her feels ashamed for it. “ you have a lot more self-control than i do, ” she admits freely. if she hadn’t changed his contact name to something else, something to remind her that she shouldn’t call him, claudia’s almost certain she would be calling every night.  

[saviorscrossed]

@worldpromised​ / [ sms ]  →  ‘ why did i make a hit list last night containing only mcdonalds? ’ - lucas & mark / random texts.

[ babe 😍 ]: you got upset cuz they keep giving you the wrong toy.. you swore to take down the clown and everything. it was hot.

[saviorscrossed]

@sunsetsphantom​ / [ sms ]  →   ‘ i’ll be there in 5 min. if not, read this again. ’ - luke & alex / random texts.

[ lpattz ]: bring me some twizzlers and a dr pepper. i know you haven’t even left the house yet.

[saviorscrossed]

@worldpromised​ / [ sms ]  →   ‘ some kid came into the principals office and tried to explain what he was sent there for through interpretive dance. ’ - aj & corey / random texts.

[ mon chérie ]: that sounds like something lucas would do... was it a good interpretive dance, at least?  [ mon chérie ]: wait, why were you in the principal’s office? 

[saviorscrossed]

@liveshaunted " it's better to expect disappointment. " - reggie & lexie / random prompts.

     “ every christmas with my grandparents is a disappointment, i think i’ve got it covered. ” she’s pretty sure that reggie’s talking about something different, something more serious than what she’s willing to discuss right now. lexie feels bad, a dull ache making itself at home in her chest, but she can’t bring herself to acknowledge what’s going on. acknowledging that she has feelings for him means admitting that she has a crush on a ghost. a dead man who also happens to be the best friend of her dead uncle, and even that connection is still taking some getting used to. she looks away from reggie, chewing on her lip in thought. maybe if she just pretends like there’s nothing there, that she doesn’t find herself longing for the next time he’ll poof in just to say hi, then the feelings will go away. ignoring her feelings usually works out for her in the end.  lexie shakes her head, dismissing her internal monologue and looks back at him with a smile, “ speaking of disappointments, wanna come over and watch ‘the rise of skywalker’ later? ” 

[saviorscrossed]

@liveshaunted​ ❛  rough day today , i assume ?  ❜ - morgan & alex / 50 dialogue prompts.

        he doesn’t say anything. no ‘hello’, no ‘how are you?’, the only thing that leaves his mouth is a grumble and a whine as he flops face-down onto morgan’s bed. after a minute, alex rolls over onto his back and lets out a huff, “ mom told dad that i didn’t want to go to his stupid work event next weekend and he flipped out, ” he explains, tugging each hoodie string in an alternating pattern. alex figured that his dad would’ve preferred he didn’t go, that the shame of having a gay son would work in his favour, but instead it left him with the threat of another therapist and the demand that he invite morgan to attend with him. alex looks over at his friend, a pleading look in his eyes, “ please come with me. don’t make me suffer through an afternoon with snooty rich people on my own... ”

[saviorscrossed]

@empathiques cont. from here!

         THOUGH IT WAS UNDER LESS THAN FAVOURABLE CIRCUMSTANCES, claudia is still very glad that reggie and his friends walked through the doors of the HGC. the afterlife has been a strange experience, to say the least, but he makes it so much easier. claudia’s smile grows as she wraps her hand around their own, “ i don’t know what i’d do without you, my love. you’re my best & brightest thing, reggie. i’m very grateful for you. ”

[saviorscrossed]

@empathiques cont. from here.

       THE KISS TAKES HIM BY SURPRISE, his face scrunching up in confusion, “ are ya sick or something, gina? ” mark nearly slaps the back of his hand against her forehead in his haste to check her temperature, “ you know you just showed somebody affection, right? ”