#For people making infinite lessons about family and love of your country and the ones eating that up

[kjzx]

I was following a (personal and a Plague Doctor fanfic related one) tg channels of a girl for... A year or so, at least the fandom one, I was rather new to the personal one, a few months maybe.

One day earlier this week I find myself locked out of both of the channels, I figure she must've banned me, she recently made a rule about blocking people for whatever reason and I, well, have definitely crossed a personal boundary once or twice.

Turns out it's so much worse. Some less than human bastard reported her to her college for gay propaganda, I'm assuming specifically for dating a woman and writing gay fanfic/reading gay manhwa. She's probably going to be expelled from college, probably no legal prosecution because she was specifically reported to the college. It wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't know from her channel how hard working and smart she is, just how much she's put into all of it.

It hurts so much. I wish her the best. I hope there's some way out of it.

[gazingupatthemoon]

What Is Infinite (2/?)

Found here at ff.net or A03 

Summary: It was meant to be just the two of them. But immorality comes with it's own surprises, and Aleksander must bow to the whims of his stubborn wife. Even if it means becoming a father.(Aleksander and Alina, after years and years, are the rulers of Ravka and have a son and daughter. Angst is sure to follow)

Rating: M

Notes: Because I am weak for stories of Alina getting pregnant and bolting afraid of Aleksander's response. But eventually she comes back, and everyone has to deal with being a big immortal and sometimes happy family.

*~*~~*~*~*~*

Mila twirls a lock of black her idly between her fingers, finding it more fascinating at the moment than the droning of her teacher.

Her brother, to be more specific.

Of course she loves Adrik, but she really does not love history lessons. She finds learning to use her powers much more engaging, as well as exercising her body and fighting skills. Maybe if Adirk focused more on Grisha history and not so much everything else, he’d hold her interest more. Papa had smiled at this particular complaint, showing in that non-verbal way of his he agreed, but then pointed out she was the Princess of Ravka, it was important for her to be educated as much as possible.  

“Remember,” Adrik suddenly says a bit more loudly. Mila blinks her way back into the classroom, and sees that he is giving her that look. “Your paper is due next week. Please continue to work on it and not leave it to the last moment. Class dismissed.”

Everyone begins to leave, but Mila stays put, knowing Adrik was not dismissing her. She waves at her friends who hover at the doorway, and then with a sigh begins to gather her own books.

“Mila-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get a good sleep last night. That’s why I wasn’t focusing.” The lie comes easily, and without any prior preparation in her head.

Adrik crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re very good at lying, mladshaya sestra, but it’s pointless when it comes to our family.”

A very unfortunate truth. The Morozovas could charm the whole country into believing any falsehood, but when it came to each other it was blunt honesty or nothing. Mila huffs. “So, what? Am I in trouble?”

Adrik’s eyes narrow. “Maybe if this was the first time but you’re always giving the bare minimum amount of effort in this class. You don’t do the assignments, you openly mock the class in general.”

“It’s just boring history-”

“It’s important,” He interrupts. “If you ever want to rule on day you have to know our world’s story and learn from it. To not repeat mistakes of the past.”

A humorless laugh bursts from Mila’s lips. “That’s funny. You know I’m never going to sit on that throne.”

Adrik resists the urge to pinch his nose. At fourteen, Mila is the pure definition of a bratty teenager. Being a princess just adds to that attitude. She always did as she wished, and didn’t care who it offended. Even with their parents she was beginning to toe the line a bit too much. But with him, she had forgone all sense of discretion. They were at odds with each other way too much, not even over her studies. It could be about decorum at public events, the way she talked down to other people, or how she too liberally used her Summoning.

(Adrik is always aware of her Summoning. Always).

Even now he could see a faint shine on his sister’s fingers.

“Calm down,” He says with a tone that nearly mirrors their father. He looks pointedly at her hands.

But Mila is not to be perturbed. If anything, her hands grow even brighter at the command.

She may be a prodigy when it came to her Summoning, but Mila was still a child. And Adirk has both years and experience on her. His fingers do the quickest twitch before shadows swallow her hands and extinguish the light there with a meaningful show of force. He pushes down on them, to the point where Mila’s body even lurches forward.

“Adrik!” She gasps, both in surprise and indignation.

But he doesn’t show her any repentance. “Do not threaten me in that way. Ever.” Adirk isn’t like this. He knows he’s not. This cold, authoritative figure is his father, not him. But Mila isn’t giving him any choice. Part of him blames their parents. He’s seen them use their Summoning on each other an inappropriate amount of times, so something in Mila’s head must had deemed it acceptable to do herself. But Alina and Aleksander have a history that Mila isn’t exactly privy to yet, and a relationship that is a far cry from “healthy”.

Adrik wasn’t sure how to make her understand that yet, though.

Feeling his own anger begin to rise, Adrik turns his back to the fuming girl and takes in a shuddering breath. “Go on to your next class. We can talk about this later.”

What left there was to talk about, he isn’t sure. Mila was either going to try or she wasn’t. And he was sure this little battle of power between them would make her all the more difficult.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aleksander flicks through papers on the latest yields in the eastern fields when Alina enters their chambers.

Her face is tight, and her eyes looking at him in a way that already has a headache forming in under his temples.

“Yes, love?” He inquires, pausing his reading. She’d only get all the more angry if he gave her half of his attention.

“Your daughter,” Alina unhelpfully supplies.

His daughter, of course, whenever Mila did something troublesome. Which she seems to be doing at increasingly alarming rate now a days. Aleksander has to admit, he is finding himself at a loss of how to handle her. He’s never raised a child before, never expected to, so it’s a skill he never bothered giving any care to. Even the Grisha children in the Little Palace received minimal interaction with him, just the very in frequent visit during lessons or a Grisha empowered speech now and then. Any unruliness was dealt with by their instructors.

Aleksander could command soldiers, but his daughter was something else entirely.

“Alina, we’ve talked about this. I can’t keep her on a leash every day to keep her out of trouble.”

“It’s because you’re so hands off that she’s acting like this,” Alina argues. “She knows she can get away this nonsense.”

“Admitting you have no control over her, then?” Aleksander shoots back, knowing the comment to be wholly unhelpful.

Alina seethes but dutifully chooses to not go down that route with him. “She skipped her classes today to go into town with her friends.”

Aleksander pauses at that. Of course, Mila shouldn’t be skipping lessons, but to do that and make it worse by risking her safety in town? That was another level of idiotic and unacceptable.

And he most certainly has a headache now.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“It has to be more than that.”

“Then what do you suggest, Alina? Should we reconsider the leash idea? If you recall your first days here, I wasn’t too adept at keeping you under my thumb either.”

The admission just embroils the conversation. “Yes, how is it that you manipulating and lying to me didn’t work? Such a mystery after all these years.”

Aleksander flings the papers in his hand onto the table and falls back in his seat. “If you’re just here to argue with me, could we schedule it for another time where I can properly give you my attention?”

“I’m here to discuss our daughter who is going down a very reckless path.”

“She’s a child, a teenager, they all act out.”

“She is a Princess of Ravka and our daughter. She is not just any child.”

Alina has a point there, and Aleksander’s silence only verifies it.

“Adrik is concerned as well,” Alina continues, her voice going lower with the weight of the conversation. “He says things have grown tense between them.”

“Because Adrik is weary of her and she senses it,” Aleksander states. “You don’t do too well of hiding it from time to time, either.”  

Alina balks at that. “I’m not weary of her…I’m concerned.”

“I’m sure there is little difference between the two in her eyes. Ever since that day, you’ve all treated her as if she could explode at any moment.”

“Your daughter did the Cut at five years old, Aleksander. She doesn’t even remember doing it. She doesn’t remember beheading someone.”

“Something you should be thankful for, then. Better she forgets then have to relive it in her mind for the years to come.”

She throws up her hands in exasperation. “This is never going to get easier if we’re not on the same page.”

“Perhaps you need to be more compromising,” Aleksander suggests with a shrug. “You got greedy raising Adrik all on your own, and now you have to deal with my say when it comes to Mila.”

���And what is your say, moi tsar? A talk every time she steps out of line? That’s your show of great parenting?”

Alina doesn’t wait for a response. She turns and stomps out of the room, her white hair the last thing he sees before the door slams shut. And Aleskander always thought Alina would be the only one that could ever be a true thorn in his side.

He had never hated his immortality so often since becoming a father.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The dinner table is understandably very quiet that night.

The royal family silently stews in their own frustrations, and let nothing but the scrapes of their utensil fill the void.

Adrik heard what Mila had done today, though it hadn’t been him to inform the Queen of her daughter’s disappearance. Adrik tried to never include his parents when it came to squabbles between he and his sister, but this situation had been unavoidable. Even if no one approached Alina with Mila’s offense, Adrik would have.

Now all there is to wait for is her punishment. By the looks on both their parents’ faces, Adrik knew it was going to be bad. But hopefully it would finally knock some sense into Mila, and stop her from continuing this stupidity.  

“The trip is Os Kervo is set for next Thursday,” Aleskander announces as their plates begin to thin with food. “Construction on their new port finally ended and they’d be honored by the presence of the royal family to give their blessing to it. It’s been sometime since we have been there as well, they are due to be reminded what their rules look like.”

Alina dabs a napkin at the corner of her mouth. “We all will be going?”

“No,” Aleksander answer promptly. “Just Adrik and I.”

The first strike then.

Adrik glances at Mila to see the fork has paused midway to her mouth. Out of the whole family, Mila loves Os Kervo. She enjoys the sea, the ships, the bustling market, and the generally more pleasant weather it has compared to East Ravka. Whenever a trip was made there, Mila was always brought along. Always.

She lowers her fork slowly, then chances a look at her father.

The Darkling is already staring at her, waiting for some kind of response.

“Is that my punishment, then?” She asks after a beat. Her tone is low, but not as contrite as it should be.

“Punishment for what, moya doch?”

It seems Aleksander is in a mood tonight. He is going to make this difficult for Mila, and not just by simply taking a trip from her. Adrik glances to his mother but she sits there as stone cold as her husband.

Mila hesitates. “I’m sure you know what I did-”

“I asked you a question,” Aleksander interrupts.

Mila’s mouth snaps shut. She breathes in and out of her nose, willing herself to be calm. She could argue with Adrik all she wanted, even her mother to a certain degree, but she knew better then to test her father’s fury. “I didn’t go to my lessons.”

Aleksander continues to stare at her.

“And…I went to town.”

“And was this a smart decision for you to make?”

Saints, she hates when he talks down to her like this. She was young, but not a child, and obviously, she knew what she had done had been wrong. But what choice did she have? How would it have looked to her friends had she told them no, she couldn’t go because it would upset her parents. Obviously, it would upset anyone’s parents, she shouldn’t act special. There were enough jokes at Mila’s expense of being the Princess and gracious allowances she’s given.

Mila should just help this end as soon as possible and yet, as everyone starred at her, she felt the need to defend herself. “It was perfectly safe. We’re all Grisha. And…I’ve never gone to town with my friends! Whenever I leave this place its only with one of you. How do you think that looks?”

“If you think I’m interested in the opinion of your friends, you are sorely mistaken,” Aleksander warns. “There are rules for a reason, Mila. You’re not just any Grisha. You are the Princess and a Sun Summoner. There are bounties on your heard in every single country.”

“I don’t want to be treated differently-”

“But you are different,” Alina choose this moment to interject, her voice a shade lighter than her husband’s. Adrik knows why, though. After learning the truth of who he was, Alina had told him everything of her past. Of how alone and different she felt most her life, both as an orphan and then as the lone Sun Summoner.  In this way, she offers her daughter some sympathy. But only in this way. “I understand your need to fit in, Mila, and in some instances, you will, but in others you will not. You cannot.”

The scrap of kindness falls on Mila’s deaf ears. “I should be able to make those decisions myself, not you all.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t act like a spoiled brat, we would consider that.”

Even Adrik flinches at Alesksander’s jab. He so infrequently scolds his daughter that when the occasion does arise, it’s uncomfortable to witness.

It hurts Mila deeper than she cares to admit hearing her father call her that. The rational thing to do would be to should shut up and apologize, before it got worse, but now not only is she hurt, but embarrassed. “You’d never let me do what I want no matter how I acted!” She exclaims hotly. “You control everyone and everything!”

“Mila,” Alina warns.

“You know he does! He even controls you! And you-you let him get away with it!”

Adrik notices the shadows of the room begin to blacken and crawl towards the ceiling. Even the floor begins to grow into a black pool. “That’s enough, Mila,” He hisses, and goes to reach for her hand now trembling with paleness as it grips the edge of the table.

But she’s too far gone now to be reined in. “I can take care of myself,” She continues. “Someone did grab me in town, you know! Right in the marketplace and tried to drag me into some alley. And I took care of it. I protected myself. I am capable-”

The room explodes with shadows. So many, so quickly, that it’s like a tornado that flings everything off the table and onto the floor. Glass shatters, food and liquid audibly splatter, and even the chairs squeak with movement. Adrik instinctively calls upon his own Summoning to ground himself down, and almost reaches out to do the same for Mila when a force stronger than his own blocks him.

Just as quickly as it begins, it ends. The storm of darkness recedes into nothingness, leaving in it’s a wake a destroyed dining room and a family cursed with too much power.

Mila looks irrevocably stricken, clinging to the arms of her chair with her eyes squeezed shut. Adrik isn’t sure what he looks like, surprised, maybe, that his father went so far but also a part of him knowing that of course Aleksander is capable of this. This and much, much worse.

Alina looks sadly at her daughter’s trembling form. She feels the heat of Aleksander’s rage next to her, knows that display of power he just showed may have been on the side of unnecessary, but she had wanted him to do more. She supposes at this point in life she should know Aleksander would appease her but only in his way.

But that right now is not important.

“What do you mean you handled it?” Alina asks very quietly.

Mila is still trembling but opens her eyes. Grey, like her father, but Alina has never seen such fear there. “W-What?”

“You heard your mother,” Aleksander snarls.

Mila flinches into her seat. “I-I Summoned and made him let me go.”

“How did you Summon?”

Mila looks between her parents, and then to Adrik as if he somehow could save her from the awful mess she has created. But now there is fear on his face as well. Not of what just happened. But of her.

But she can’t see the horrid memories replaying in his head. Of another time when a man grabbed Mila. Of when instinct, not rational, kicked in, and awful mistakes were made. Adrik failed his sister then, and he can’t help but feel he’s done the same now.  

“I used the Cut.”

Again, there’s Dimitri’s body falling to the floor.

Again, there the unexpected show of light.

The suspended moment in time when it slid across the man’s neck, as smooth as water.

Alina wants to be as broken as Adirk in this moment, but she can’t. She has to be a mother now. She has to handle this. “Did you kill him, Mila?”

The younger girl looks confused at the question. Of what exactly, Alina is not sure. When she doesn’t answer right away, she practically feels Aleksander about to unleash another verbal lashing. “Mila, did you kill him?” Alina prompts again before he gets the chance to.  

“I…I don’t know. I did it and ran.”

And yet again, Mila comes out the situation with little recognition of what’s she done.

Adrik wonders if a dead body will turn up soon from the streets of their kingdom.

Alina closes her eyes, as if that would make this all go away.

“You’re not to leave the castle,” Aleksander begins. No arguments. No explanations. The time has passed for that. “You will take your lessons privately here. You, who have been blessed with so much, to squander it so. You want to be in charge of your life and yet you use your power so carelessly and don’t even know if you killed a man or not. Is that what Ravka will say of their Princess? That she is a fool who murders without thought?”

She doesn’t even know, Adrik thinks miserably. She doesn’t even know she’s already become that.  

“You will embarrass this family no more. If you step out of line one more time, I will ship you to the Winter Palace and leave you there till you learn your place. And do not that as an idle threat. Me not seeing your face for the next fifty years means as little to me as if it was a mere day.”

A tear leaks out of Mila’s eyes at his words. At the truth her father has revealed and struck at her like a slap in the face.

“Now get out.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Adrik fiddles with the pocket watch his father had gifted him for his 21st birthday. The first gift he ever received from the man. It wasn’t new, but instead an antique that had been owned by some old King of Ravka.

(Adrik has been simultaneously pleased and resentful that Aleksander somehow knew he’d prefer this piece of history than a fancy new one).

The carriage jolts as it passes over a bump, making Adrik start. He looks across him to see Aleksander starring at the window, hands folded neatly on his lap.

They’ve been riding for a couple hours now, heading to Os Kervo.

It’s been a week since that disaster of a dinner. A week of Mila being a ghost, only appearing for dinners which her mother would not relent on her being absent for. But she only spoke when asked a question, and kept her eyes on her plate or lap. Adrik had seen her more, as per her private lessons, and her mother had attempted some one-on-one conversations.

Aleksander hadn’t sought her out once.

“How is Mila doing?” He asks, as if sensing where his mind has wandered to.

“Fine,” Adrik answers honestly. It’s the only word to describe her really. Despite her silence, Mila hasn’t shown any concerning behavior. She’s paying attention to her lessons, which is an improvement, and hasn’t unleashed any of her usual attitude.

“Did you believe I was harsh on her?”

Adrik is surprised by the question. Their relationship has certainly improved over the years, but there were still some lines drawn in the sand between them. One being that his father never usually asked him his opinion on decisions he’s made. The Darkling was not one to be questioned, let alone invite criticism. No, if this ever happened, it was surely a test of some sort. This might very well be one, for all Adrik knew.

“I think something had to be done,” He answers carefully, wondering was going on in the King’s head. His gaze still remained pointed out the window.  

“And what I did?”

Adrik has went over the dinner many times in his head this past week. What went wrong, where it could have been stopped. How out of control everything became with those choice words. It wasn’t so much the punishment Adrik disagreed with. Confined to the castle was the least that could have been done considering what Mila is guilty of. What he had only ever questioned was how it happened that night, the words and actions taken to come to that conclusion. And the way Aleksander had broken a part of Mila’s heart with his other very real threat.  

He wonders if Alina said something to prompt this. He wonders if he should even continue it. But then he remembers his sister’s face, can’t help but feel-know-that Mila is not an evil being. She’s just a young girl, confused over who she is and her place in this world. “You forget we are not as old as you and Mama,” Adrik begins calmly. No need for Aleksander to misunderstand him when they were going on a trip alone together for the foreseeable future. “That we’re still….more human, than immortal. Mila deserved to be punished but for you to tell her not seeing her for fifty years means little to nothing to you and that you would actually send her away for that time, it was cruel.”

Aleksander processes this with silence. Then he angles his head towards his son, considering him.

“You grew up not knowing what you are. She did. She can’t be afforded the time or patience you were.”

“He’s usually always insufferably right,” Alina had told him once of his father. “But where he lacks is the humanity that tells him even though something is true, doesn’t not mean it is good.”

Adrik is a grown man now, not the child that had been both afraid and hateful of the man who gave him life. A part of him hesitates to be honest with him, old habits and all, but if Aleksander wanted his opinion then he would give it. “She is a fourteen-year-old girl whose father told her his love for her is conditional. There are other ways to teach her of immortality.”

Aleksander again grows quiet.

“And…” Adrik licks at his lips. “She grew up with your love, I did not. You hurt her in a way you couldn’t do to me. I was prepared for your coldness, she wasn’t.”

A shadow flickers in an on the floor between them. A shadow of a passing tree? A Summoned one?

“You believe my love for her is conditional?”

Adrik flexes his fingers. He really doesn’t want to engage in this line of questioning. He did not want to guess his father’s feelings, on whether they existed or were genuine. He didn’t want to examine his and Mila’s relationship when his own was so pitiful in comparison. Adrik believed for so long he didn’t need his father’s affection. But not that he’s had a taste for it, that unfair resentment the never seemed to shake towards Mila’s dug a little deeper.  

Feeling again like the lonely teenage boy brought to the palace as a prince who did not have the king’s love, he answers noncommittally. “I don’t know. You certainly care for her.”    

“It is hard, at my age, to truly love things. Knowing they will not last.”

“But she will,” Adrik points out.

“Perhaps I have to grow used to her, the way I did you.”

That shocks Adrik into silence. It’s not exactly a “I love you” but its damn well close in his opinion. Who knew if Aleksander would ever gift him with anything fonder. “And are you? Used to me?” He can’t help but ask. He needs to be sure. He would not get begrudgingly pleased over a game.

Though he doesn’t smile, Aleksander looks amused at the question. “As a horse is to a fly.”

Oh, well…

Was that a joke?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“He hates me,” Mila whispers into her pillow.

Alina hears her all the same and smooths her hair down her back. “He doesn’t.”

“You hate me,” She continues to mumble.

“I don’t.”

Mila lifts her head up a fraction, if only to look at her mother as if she had three heads. “How can you say that with what happened?”

“Mila, you made mistakes, some larger than others, and lashed out as us. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation no matter what happened.”

“He said he’d send me away.”

“I would never let him.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact he would do it if he could.”

Alina blew out a puff of exasperated air. Mila dropped her head back into the pillow, the child she truly was simmering to the surface. Alina tried to recall the time she had been her age. If she had ever been so…lost. But her past is now only made of landmark events in her life, with the little things in between lost to eternity. There was Mal, then the Light, and then Aleksander. So much Aleksander. She had been 17 when she first met him, three years older the Mila now. How mature she had thought she had been. How foolish.

“Your father is going to be the most difficult man you’ll ever meet in your life. He is far from perfect, none of us are. He does not react the way he should sometimes. I should know. He and on were not on the same page as we are now.”

Mila slightly shifts her head, and peeks up at her mother under a curtain of hair. “What do you mean?”  

“He hurt me too,” Alina beings carefully. Very carefully. It was her decision to not tell Mila of she and Aleksander’s past till she was older and mature enough to try and understand all the complicated and dark parts of it. Alina only felt more confident in the decision considering Mila’s volatile nature as of late. Aleskadner didn’t seem to mind, not caring if Alina chose to even reveal it at all. “When I was younger, close to your age in fact, he hurt me very deeply, Mila.”

“But…” Mila presses up on her elbows, looking very confused. “Papa loves you more than anything.”

“He does,” Alina agrees, and reaches forward to swipe the hair from her face. “But he didn’t in the beginning. He didn’t for quite some time, actually. And I the same.”

Sometimes she still wonders. Sometimes.

Mila shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I promise, darling, I will tell you the whole story one day. But for now, just know, he may be old but that doesn’t make him always right. Immortality is a very hard burden to bear, especially when you’ve been alone for as long as your father has. It makes him forget how to treat others. Even those he loves.”

Alina can’t help but hope it is enough. What more can she say without explaining the rest of it? It would do no one any good, least of all Mila, to reveal Aleksander’s villainous past now. If anything, it might make this newly formed chasm between she and him worse.

“Mila,” Alina opts to change the course of the conversation before she can dwell on it any further. “What you did to that man, it can’t happen again.”

Her grey eyes blink widely at the switch of topic. “I-he was going to hurt me, Mama.”

“And you must of course defend yourself. But the Cut must be a last resort. It is a technique that’s too powerful, and only meant to kill. That is why our family are the only ones able to do it. There are other ways to protect yourself. Others ways to not kill.”

Mila slowly lowers herself back onto her stomach, but at least does not hide her face this time. “I didn’t mean to…kill him. I just-I got scared. I only ran because I was so afraid, Mama. I didn’t even go back to my friends. I came right back here. I promise.”

Oh, how differently the conversation could have gone the other day had Mila not been so full of pride and hurt. And how much of a relief it is to hear Mila’s pained confession. She’d been consumed all week with dark thoughts that Mila was becoming callous with her skills and drunk off the power of her immortality and Sun Summoning. That she was a child given gifts no child should know how to deal with at that age. But no, thank the Saints, Mila was just that. A child who got scared and made a mistake. And all those years ago with Dimitiri, it must have been a mistake. She had been too young, too innocent. She had been hurt and afraid then as well, and saw her brother attacked to top it off.

Mila is being ruled by her emotions and that, Alina can work with.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In truth, Aleksander didn’t quite like traveling far from home for such ridiculous frivolities as blessing a new port. Pompous, in his opinion. Unnecessary.

But people, bored with their short lives, needed such reprieves. To celebrate innate things as to fill their days with some reason to be happy. To drink, and dance, and enjoy what time they had left.

And the people do need to be reminded who is their ruler every now and then.

Another truth, Aleksander needed the space frim his wife and daughter. How odd, in this whole annoyingly unnecessary mess, Adrik would be his confidant. He’d been the only one not to resent him for his behavior at dinner or feel the need to give him the cold shoulder. Alina had wanted him to act, so he did. It was not his fault if she didn’t like how he did it.

Though Adrik had been honest that day in the carriage, he didn’t use his words like weapons. Not like he or Alina would. No, he had been patient and simply wanted Aleksander to just hear what he had to say. No ulterior motives or desire to harm. It was charming, in a way. He is an adult, technically, but still a child in Aleksander’s eyes. A child who still has delusions of being honest and good.

Despite all that, what Adrik said did hold some weight. Mila didn’t understand yet the burden of who they were yet, and Aleksander…well, perhaps he didn’t know how to properly handle her. The whole mess was reminding him all too much of his past with Alina. How much he failed at trying to connect with her and make her see what their power and immorality meant. Like mother, like daughter indeed.

As the carriage made its way into the courtyard of the Grand Palace, Aleksander twirled around the gift in his hand. A wooden box, thin and long with a necklace of sea glass and pearls inside. It wasn’t a gift, as punished children should not receive gifts, but an olive branch. Not a frivolous purchase but an acquisition that had purpose behind it.

It took years for he and Alina to finally come to peace with each other. He wasn’t in the mindset to allow the same to happen between he and Mila.

Adrik hid a smile as he eyed the gift one last time before hopping out of the carriage. He extended many olive branches with his son this trip as well. Let him closer than Aleksander had originally planned, and gave him kernels of “fatherly” attention much more liberally than either of them were used to.

Perhaps he was feeling lonely without Alina. More disturbed than he’d admit over Mila. Maybe more accepting of the fact Adrik was his son every passing day.

Maybe he was just bored. Who truly knows.  

Alina is pulling away from a hug with Adirk when he sees her. White hair long and braided, face still holding onto the youth and beauty well past her true age. She takes his breath away every time he sees her. Every damn time. It’s been almost two weeks, and their goodbye had been less than pleasant. But she turns to him without any ire in her gaze now, and actually smiles.

“My Queen,” He greets, stopping before her.

“My King,” She dutifully replies. They stare at each other, devouring the other’s images with roaming eyes.

Adrik scoffs at the not so subtle standoff, and makes his way into the castle.

Alina dips her head to his hands. “A present for me?”

“Sorry, love, no. But if you are in the mood for one, I’m sure I could find something for you in my luggage. I believe it’s being brought up to our rooms as we speak.”

“Hm,” Alina takes a calculated step forward, brushing a hand against the lapels of his kefta. “Perhaps I could be swayed to go and retrieve it with you. But should I be jealous?”

“Not at all,” he grins, dipping his head down. “But I believe I should take care of this first. Then I shall shower you with gifts all night.”

A smile breaks across her face and she kills the last bit of distance between them with a deep kiss. Aleksander groans against the plunge of Alina’s tongue, and resists slamming her against the side of the carriage and taking her right then and there.

He is very happy two weeks seems to be the time to quell his wife’s anger.

Alina is pulling away all too quickly, and takes swift step backwards as Aleksander reaches to pull her back. “Go attend to your business, my King. I’ll be waiting.”

“Perhaps you’ll actually be there when I come back this time.” A very old, and very bad joke.

Alina rolls her eyes and turns toward the doors. She pauses one last moment, though, and looks at him over her shoulder. “I know what it feels like to have to have a heart broken by you, Aleksander. Please take care with her.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aleksander give two quick raps to the door of Mila’s quarters.

He knows she will answer, not because she wants to but because duty demands it. He is her father and King, and no doors will ever remain shut to him.

But no, he had to banish such grandiose thoughts right now. He simply needed to be a father, intent on mending a break between he and his daughter. Simple enough.

The door creaked open and Mila peeked her head out, looking as if she had just woken up. Her eyes widen slightly seeing him, and she fumbles to open the door all the way while simultaneously straightening her back.

“I-uh, good morning,” She breathes, patting down her hair and drawing her robe tighter to herself. Perhaps not just waking up then, but getting ready for a bath. “I mean, welcome back.”

Aleksander nods his head in return. “May I come in?”

The request visibly rattles her, as her eyes widen and her teeth bite into her lower lip. She nods jerkily, regardless, and backs into her room. It’s immaculately kept, as usual, as opposed to her brother’s much messier quarters. It’s the reminiscent of the room Alina had first occupied in the Little Palace. Sophisticated furniture fit for a Queen and décor bathed in bright and soft colors. Her pale pink curtains are swaying softly in with the morning breeze, every window wide open to let in the sun.

Mila is attempting to be calm and collected, but her fingers keep fiddling with her robe’s belt and her body bouncing on the heels of her feet. Nervous compulsions that had plagued her when she had been younger. Not at fourteen. Not in front of her father.

And here she was.

Aleksander is leisurely walking around her room, as if he hadn’t been in it for some time. She supposes he hasn’t, even before he had stopped talking to her. During that whole…mess, she had become very private with her space and belongings, and more often than not locked her door then let it hang open.

When he stops to examine the belongings on her vanity, Mila can bear the silence no more. “Was it a good trip?” The question, riddled by her nerves, comes out as a squeak.

Aleksander absently picks up a hair brush. “It served its purpose.”

“Oh,” She doesn’t like this side of her father. Had seen it enough times aimed at member of court, a soldier, even the rare occasion of someone in her family (those interactions always ended bad). When he makes you feel so small, so off kilter, as he saunters around without a care in the world. Like he doesn’t care about you.

The thought makes Mila more sad than nervous now, and the conversation she had with her mother a couple days ago comes back to her. Alina assured her that Aleksander still loved her, that the fault with his emotions lied with him, not her, but it was still hard to believe. As a fourteen-year-old, she shouldn’t have to be the one that sort that out.

She didn’t want to. She just wanted her father to show her he loved her.

“Your lessons?” Aleksander turns toward her, and eyebrows raised.

Mila holds back a frown and even worse, a couple tears, and she looks over his shoulder to a picture of painted flowers, a rose bush with tangled vines crawling up a tree. “Going well. Attending them all and keeping up with my grades.”

He nods his head. “Good to hear.”

Mila keeps starring at the flowers, feeling her cheeks grow hotter and hotter. Oh Saints, she is going to cry. She is. She can’t stand this treatment anymore. Not this cruel casualness. The still ugly truth that he loved her so little that he would send her away.

Why was he here? What did he want? To further rub salt in the wound? She had purposefully not gone to greet him and Adirk upon their return because she figured Aleksander wouldn’t want to see her. He made that plainly clear the week before he left. Why was he torturing her so?

“Oh, moya solnishka,” Fingers tenderly swipe over her cheeks, now sticky with wetness. Mila bleaks blurrily against the tears to look up into her father’s suddenly very close face. His grey eyes are not cold, but soft, simmering with the affection he had always shown her. “No need to cry.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Mila sobs and jerks forward, burying her face in his chest. Keftas aren’t exactly known for their comfort, but it smells like her Papa, and it’s warm, so it’s perfect right now. She rubs against the material till it scratches her skin, but she doesn’t care, because Aleksander’s arms are enveloping her in a hug, and his chin comes to rest comfortably atop her head.

“Shh,” He continues to soothe over and over as she cries and cries. His hand beings to rub circles into her back, and for some reason that brings on a new wave of tears. She was wrong, he does care. Of course, he cares. He had been angry, is all, and so had she. They were going to be fine, they were going to be great, it was-oh! Suddenly, a ball of warmth so strong blossoms in her stomach, and unfurls with such a force it takes Mila’s breath away. She feels the heat coming out of every pour in her body, and pulls away enough to see she’s glowing, light pouring out from her skin and cascading the room in striking brightness.

It would blind any other normal human being, but the Darkling gazes at her without the slightest wince.  

“There she is,” Aleksander murmurs with a smile. The first smile he’s graced her with one in so long.

Mila can’t help but smile back, feeling so…alive.

But then Aleksander pulls back and her light slowly dims till it is nothing but her bare skin again.

He reaches out to reveal a box in his hand, thin and wooden with simple decorations carved on it. “For you, love.”

Had he not just embraced her, or smiled at her, Mila would have assumed the offering was a trick. A test, of some sort, as her father was so often fond of doing. Starring at the box, Mila knows that if this isn’t just an innocent gesture, she was undoubtedly going to fail. Still, she reaches forward and takes it tentatively form her hands, then undoes the metal clasp with a delicate touch.  

Inside is a beautiful necklace, a long, sparkling braided silver chain with pearls and pieces of sea glass interwoven throughout it. It shines at with her every movement and continues to glimmer even as she keeps it completely still. “It’s…beautiful,” Mila whispers, feeling a bit awed by it. She is the Princess of Ravka, she has seen and even worn the most glamorous and beautiful pieces of jewels the world could produce. But this, in her hands, seems the most precious of all. Because it is hers, and no one else’s, not an antique passed down by Queens before. And because her father had given it, had thought of her when he bought it, and delivered it with his own hands.

Another lone tear sneaks down her face.

With his long, elegant fingers, Aleksander plucks the necklace from its cerulean colored cushioning. “As you are, moya doch.” He steps behind her and with a gentle swipe of her hair, begins to clasp it around her neck.  

Mila feels the whispers of that powerful light again, but it recedes when her father again steps away.

“I am sorry, Papa-”

“I know. We’ll talk of it no longer. Continue up with your studies here for the month, and then we can discuss you returning to classes.”

There is nothing to do but beam and nod her head enthusiastically in agreement.

“No more leaving the castle grounds, Mila. No more trouble or this rebellious nature anymore. You will act as you were born to be. Princess of Ravka and the daughter of the Shadow and Sun Summoner.”

Darkling and Sankta. Two equals, yet opposite. Constantly pulling towards each other and inevitable pushing away.

What inkling of normalcy did a product of that bond hope to have?

“Yes, Papa, I promise. I’ll be perfect.” Even as the word passes her lips, Alina’s own voice echo’s in her ears: “He is far from perfect, none of us are.” Perhaps she wasn’t, Mila mused, but she would try to be. She would spend the rest of her immortality trying. “And,” She continues, knowing it would be best to completely clear the air out now between them. “About that man. In the marketplace. I am sorry about it, Papa. Really I am. I was talking to Mama about it and…I know it was wrong. I do. I was afraid and didn’t react right. I will not use the Cut again, ever. I promise.”

Mila’s heart drops when Aleksander’s lip tug downward. But why? How had that been the wrong this to say? It had made her mother happy, it had even made her forgive her! Had she forgotten something? Not said sorry enough times?

“Do not make that promise, Mila,” Aleksander states with the finality of his station. “The Cut is our gift, and we do not hide our power from the world.”

“But…but Mama said-”

“Your mother,” He interjects smoothly, “Has some different ideas on the subject, I am aware. What you need to understand, is that your mother has always had a kind heart, and has always wanted to believe in the good in people. Most importantly, herself. And now, her children.”

Though she is following along, Mila can’t help but feel this conversation is too big for her understanding. That her father is trying to tell her something without actually saying. That it’s going against Alina had said, and is making her afraid.

Aleksander cups the bottom of Mila’s chin and angles it up to face him. “She wants many things, your mother. But remember Mila, the problem with wanting is that it makes us weak. And we are not weak, are we?”

Mila stares uncertainly into her father’s eyes, and answers as she knows she should, “No, we are not.”

“That man put his hands on you,” He continues, his gaze never wavering. “You do not apologize for defending yourself.”

But she had killed him, Mila wants to protest. Or at least, maybe she did. Either way, was that not a good thing? Alina had told her there are others way to protect herself. It didn’t have to be the Cut-

Aleksander tuts her chin. “What you need to learn, love, is patience. Precision. The control of your power and having it bend to you, not the other way around. That, we have all the time in the world to learn.”

Mila nods her head, willing to do anything her father wanted of her.    

[adrischrv]

REGNUM [L.H] - Chapter 3

Author´s note: Hi! Here´s the third chapter! English is not my first language so lemme know if there are any mistakes. 

Word count:  2,902

Introduction.  C1. C2. 

The morning after the ball was quiet. The lack of Queen Susan’s joyful life was as strange as the King’s laughter and everyone in the palace could feel it. Even, though I only knew them for a short time. I remembered finding my mother talking on the phone with the Queen about nonsense to serious business matters, I was infinitely grateful to the Queen for taking my mother away from a couple of lessons.

Gardenstone has a particular way of saying goodbye to its loved ones: people would write a word describing such people on an acorn, they would gather and water them all over the forest. A nice old lady explained to me that different trees sprouted like the oak tree and when they grew up a person was also born with the written word in a way that reflected the impact you have on the world even after you die. She could assure me that people with good intentions would come out of the words of Queen Susan, King Robert, and Prince Jake. 

“Fifty delivered and about… sixty more arrived.”

Luke nodded, tired. I left the piles of papers on the big desk in front of him and took a seat on the other side.

After he had been appointed King and after the farewell, thousands of petitions from citizens and nobles had arrived in the early hours waiting to be authorized. Seeing the load of papers, I offered to help Luke and avoid the collapse of my neighboring country. My mother decided to do the same on her own by talking to the dukes and duchesses who feared for the future of Gardenstone as it was justly uncertain. 

“I slept for two hours… and everyone wants me to approve petitions, I don’t understand why.”

Luke had spoken more to himself, but that didn’t stop me from laughing a little.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, paying attention for the first time all morning.

“Of course they want you to approve petitions. They’re taking advantage. Since your father, may he rest in peace, is no longer the king, they expect you to approve everything he didn’t. But I hope you have not approved many, parliament will have a lot to discuss and it will probably be exhausting.”

Luke was stunned, looking for the right way to hide his inexperience.

“It’s parliament’s job, exhausting or not.”

“They wouldn’t give the same importance to every role and something important might be disapproved of or something unimportant might be approved, it’s risky.”

“If you know so much, why don’t you do it?”

Clearly, the regulation of his tone had a flaw causing it to come out more aggressively than planned.

“It would be a pleasure. I firmly believe that I can do it better than you, Your Majesty.”

Luke let go of the pen in his hand and crossed his arms. If I didn’t think it was funny I’d say he was trying to be intimidating but suddenly he relaxed his gaze.

“I’d like to check that out. Oh, and also about approving petitions, princess.”

I clenched my fists but like him I relaxed my gaze, ready to give an intelligent answer.

“I’m sorry I dared to think I was talking to a king, when it is clear the long road you have to be considered one.”

The slamming of the door interrupted Luke from saying - surely - something stupid.

“Busy, Your Majesty?”

Calum’s brown hair peeked out, smiling at the sight of me.

“Go ahead, did you get any sleep, Cal?”

Calum snorted at Luke’s question, taking a seat next to me at the desk, and took an exhausted stance, dropping his hands down his pants.

“Are you kidding? Mom keeps calling, I had to turn off my Jhin just like Dad. Who, by the way, sent me to find out if you had authorized his request.”

The “Jhin”, modern devices from cell phones that had the option to call among other things, and characterized by a function that allowed an easy finding of information about any individual, in the past there were social networks that were eliminated in the International Revolution and changed by the Jhin.

“You find it in this rubble and I’ll authorize all the requests you want” Luke sighed leaning back in his seat and pointing to the papers in front of him.

Calum looked at him sorrowfully, none of them in the mood. Said and done, Calum managed to find the petition he recognized by the notorious “H” for “Hood” in one corner of the paper, leaving it on top of all the others.

Luke took it, signed it without hesitation, and took a second to read.

“You should read it and then sign it, you know?” Calum mentioned, gaining the satisfaction I hoped to get from correcting Luke.

“You have my absolute trust, you know?” Luke replied in the same tone without taking his eyes off the document, opened his big eyes, and handed it to Calum who accepted it immediately. “Are you my Diplomatic Adviser? What about your father?”

“After what happened last night, he thinks it’s time for me to take his place. I would eventually, but it seems to him that I need to be by your side now to support you and test my training,“ Calum replied, noting the anguish in his friend’s expression. 

I had nothing to say so I got up and directed my interest to the books on the shelves pretending not to pay attention.

“I suppose your father went with your mother to his village…”

“You guess right,” Calum paused for a moment. “Hey, I know you’re not well. It must be hard to lose your family… I can’t imagine waking up without my parents and my sister… but you’re not alone, I’m here if you need to talk.”

Luke smiled sideways, quietly accepting his proposal.

“You need to take a break, it’s all happening so fast,“ Calum said, almost reading his mind. “The kingdom needs you to be in good shape.”

Frustrated Luke rose from his seat to sit in the corner of the desk.

“I don’t know what else the kingdom needs, and that will be your first task. Also, stop sending in paperwork, close down the possibility of sending in a petition until further notice.”

I was going to tell him how reckless it was to shut down the arrival of petitions but I finally stopped to think about the matter I had provisionally ignored: I had no power in Gardestone and I didn’t know what was going to happen to the alliance. 

“His Majesty, His Highness, young Hood” A guard appeared at the door with cards in hand which he dealt to the three of them. “Their Majesties King Ashton and Queen Lauren of Lauxwell would like you to attend a dinner they have arranged for themselves tonight.“

“Are those harpies still in my palace?” Luke raised an eyebrow. The poor guard did nothing but nod. “Get rid of them. I want them out.”

“Are you crazy?” exclaimed Calum, clearing his throat as he realized the mistake he had just made. “I mean, are you sure you want the Irwins out? As your royal advisor, I don’t think it’s true to your word, your majesty. King Ashton won the duel and the terms-”

Luke raised a hand to stop Calum from talking. 

“Guard, I need privacy, if it’s not too much trouble…”

The Guard bade farewell with a bow. 

“You too, Princess,” said Luke, “you can request as many maids as you need for tonight, but that’s no reason for you to stay here another second.”

I blinked uncertainly as to how to respond to his insinuation… or insult. I was still debating what was most appropriate.

“Did I not make myself clear? -Or would you rather stay here and stare at me a little longer?”

“I can’t ask my eyes to meet this turtle,” I answered, in the most pleasant tone I could find and advanced to the door.

“Are you sure? I can turn around if you need to,“ I heard him scream from the hall.

Halfway down the hall, I decided that I had to set certain limits for “his majesty” if I was going to live with him and his insufferable attitude for one more second. With that in mind, I changed my direction back to the office and stopped short when I heard my name in the conversation.

“-I’m serious, Cal Amberly is unbearable!”

Eavesdropping had never been something I enjoyed, much less needed. I knew there was nothing good about it… and yet I stuck my back to the wall outside the office. 

“-the whole kingdom is depressed. Just by spreading the word about Princess of Maredale’s temporary stay they have begun to produce the best quality products, the children went out to play again” Calum debated. “Your people feel the comfort they have not received from their king.”

“Is that what they want? Miss “I got a lesson in something important” and “I can run a country on my own”?” Luke asked, trying to imitate my voice. “Nonsense! I bet she can’t choose which well-known book to read without help, so many classes have been useless if she can’t speak for herself and waits for her mother to do all the work for her. A babbler! that’s what she is. Even that Ashton idiot has more courage than she does.”

I thought I’d walk through that door to tell him how wrong he was. I could even make a scene and choose to tear all of his fine clothes into pieces that would be scattered all over the palace. 

But I didn’t. Because deep down I knew he was right.

I spat cautiously. My eyes were threatening to drop the tears. 

“Please, Luke. You don’t know what you’re saying,“ Calum replied. “Queen Elizabeth is going to be back any minute and I don’t think she’d like to hear the way you express about her daughter.“

“If the Queen does anything, it will only show what a coward the Princess is.”

Without realizing it, I was walking with a strong step to my room.

Luke was telling the truth, what was the point of taking classes and lectures if I couldn’t speak for myself?

Ashton had said it too, though much more subtly. He implied that I could take charge of my destiny and it must not be like my mother had planned all along. 

Courage- I didn’t have it. I wanted to find it and show it off like a new toy, but that’s not how it works. 

“Princess, I was looking for you.”

Lidia interrupted my walk into the room, looked into my eyes that were probably already a little red and wet. She gave me a warm smile and took my hands and led me into the room. I sat down on the edge of the bed and talked, holding back my sobbing.

“Lidia, I was about to do the same thing, but…”

She hissed as her hands were lost in the closet.

“Quiet, from the look of your beautiful face I can tell you heard something…”

Lidia stood in front of me with a bright ruby red dress in her hands, a golden ribbon, the colors of the Gardenstone, all around. The silk fabric adjusted perfectly to my body, falling to my feet with a discreet opening at the side of my right leg; the waves of my hair embraced me. Suddenly it did not seem that I had been crying for the fool that the King was.

“….and by the look of you in this dress, I can tell you will shut the same mouths that said something about you.”

¥

The main dining room shone on its own even though the green decoration was quite noticeable, it looked like Christmas. The red walls looked soft, smooth, and warm, I liked to think that and the spruce chairs had been Queen Susan’s idea. In the center I expected a long table with food, a lot of exquisite food, I didn’t think I had seen those delicacies before, I assumed they were typical of Lauxwell. Around the table, the guests - mostly servants of the palace - had already begun to enjoy the food, while the nobles were talking and eating slowly. 

I took a breath, looked up, and entered the dining room. 

Lauren saw me first, smiled for a second, and went on with her meal. At her side, Ashton adjusted his tie and looked at me for a few seconds directly in the eyes as if he wanted to tell me something. My mother, who had returned from her talks, nodded approvingly. Calum took his attention off a plate, looked at me, and elbowed Luke. Luke did not flinch. 

“Sorry I’m late, go on with your dinner.“

“Princess, please sit next to me.” Ashton stood up, offering a chair. 

“No, sit next to me.” Luke did the same. “You are a guest in my kingdom, after all.“

They shared a challenging look, Luke just wanted to annoy Ashton and have the satisfaction of being able to ignore me all night. 

Luke’s eyes were fixed on me, seeking a truce not to favor Ashton.

“I am flattered, your Majesties,” I smiled innocently, “but I find the company of King Ashton more… appropriate.”

I took a seat next to Ashton. He politely placed a glass of red wine in my hands, for a moment our fingers brushed and I felt my cheeks warm slightly.

“Your Majesty Luke,” called my mother, “I am proud to report that all the dukes and duchesses are now calm again in their respective states. I have said some flattering things about you…”

“Thank you, your maje-”

“I hope I’m not wrong…”

I looked for my mother’s look on the other side of the table along with the opportunity to tell her that she was wrong, so wrong…

“I hope my daughter has contributed something today.”

Too late to talk about Luke.

I alerted the blond man’s intentions, as dirty as mine a few seconds ago. He had the luxury of taking a sip of red wine before responding.

“I found the company of Princess Amberly a bit… “ He looked me straight in the eye “…Comfortable.”

I took a bite of my food, waiting for him to cut off eye contact. He didn’t. The urge to stick something into those blue eyes increased with every second…

“If you find it so comfortable I can suggest that you keep it with you for a while longer.”

My mother’s words not only interrupted the discreet discussion between our eyes but also took us both by surprise. 

“What do you mean by that, Mother?” I asked.

“I am going back to Maredale, and seeing first-hand the opportunities you have at Gardenstone to demonstrate your potential, I think it is necessary for you to stay here. If His Majesty Luke approves, of course.”

“Of course I approve, Queen Elizabeth. It will be a real… pleasure.”

I didn’t look at Luke, I didn’t look at anyone. I released all frustration of such a decision at the plate in front of me.

Lauren told a story about a night she had decided to stand guard at a volcano on the Lauxwell border near a funeral home. She described it as a bleak, lifeless place too cold for even the heat of the lava to drive away. A giant beast with big legs and a wet muzzle with traces of blood was found, a wolf big enough for her to have faced it alone… but she had done it, she had hunted the beast and divided the skin among her friends in her kingdom. There was something so horrific about her story that made it interesting and kept us all at the table expectant and eager to hear more. 

Throughout the dinner I felt an extra pair of eyes on me, I had the luxury of finding the owner, and the simple fact that they belonged to a certain self-centered brat brought a smile to my face. 

“-that’s how I took my father to the bandits who threatened the kingdom. They will rot forever, end.” She took her cup up and drank it to the bottom. Everyone around her applauded, sighs of relief and fear sounded as well. 

“Thank you, sister. With these stories full of courage, we thank you for attending this dinner.”

Ashton extended a hand indicating to the servants to leave the dining room nicely, some stopped and thanked him, others took leftovers from the table mistakenly hidden between napkins and took them away. 

“Ridiculous, we have never forbidden them to eat. I guess we’ll have to start.“

Luke mumbled to Calum, he laughed but his face was afraid, he thought Luke was capable of it. 

Seconds later the two left the dining room followed by Lauren who walked with her head held high despite being under the influence of alcohol. I admired her in silence. 

A black hair stood in my way, accompanied by a wide smile. 

“Amberly, would you accompany me on a night walk in the gardens?”

“Of course.” 

Our arms intertwined, I tried not to blush at the sudden closeness as we got lost in the garden with the moon guiding our every step. 

[emtalksbooks]

Beyond Education: Radical Studying for Another World by Eli Meyerhoff

Topics: Higher education, history of higher education, community education, organizing and protesting

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Discussion: Meyerhoff's 2019 book discusses, the failures and shortcomings of the promise of higher education in North America. Slim in size and massive in stature, this book is essential reading for anyone currently in higher ed and sick of it, in any capacity.

Meyerhoff lays bare the failings of the university for everyone -- particularly graduate students, staff, and precariously employed faculty -- but his lessons can be applied to any student struggling against a seemingly impenetrable wall of what we know, in our bones, higher ed is supposed to be. He argues against the narrative of romanticized education -- the education is always a form of love [see an upcoming post on Sarah Jaffe's Work Won't Love You Back for more about this], something to be strived for, achieved, and universally acclaimed.

Education doesn't have to be the box checking, stifling, claustrophobic and cloistered thing that it has become, Frankenstein-like, as federal and state funding plummeted and universities became business-ified in a death spiral of dollars and cents.

By discussing the narrative of "drop outs" as a moral and policy failure, Meyerhoff shows the deeply racist, classist, and sexist underpinnings of how we ("we," here, being people who make our living in higher ed) talk about education. Instead of a romantic model, a model of love, education can be a resistance, a means to greater power in politic and abolition, a celebration of community knowledge, and a non-hierarchical space to create something new. Meyerhoff, it would seem, recognizes the capitalistic and human limits of these endeavors, as shown by his chapter, a sort of self-assessment, of a free university he and his peers attempted to run while in graduate school.

While reading this book, I thought a lot about privilege, access, and resources. Meyerhoff situates himself as someone for whom education was at first romanticized; later, he discusses how the free university model he attempted to run co-opted university spaces and resources to engage with other students and the community. But you have to get in the door to steal from the shelves of the university in this way; the price of admission is astronomical, in terms of either familial wealth or student loans, and only certain people have the access to an undergraduate education, much less masters and doctorate level programs. You have to play the game to a certain extent to even get in those spaces to steal time, resources, money, and spaces to create the "free" university of Meyerhoff's attempts, and I would be interested to see the literal dollar signs it took everyone in the free university space to even be able to access this "free" model. Additionally, access for people with disabilities, people of color, poor people, and people who were otherwise cast aside by the k-12 education system will prevent them from being in these "radical" higher education spaces and graduate programs -- all of which means that "radical" systems in graduate school often take the shape of people, poor for the first time in their lives, are incensed by their chosen lot. Many of the discussions in this book can and should be applied elsewhere in society, to groups of people who did not romanticize their profession, but rather, needed to go into it to survive.

I'm skeptical of any book of education that looks so far into the past as this one does, back to the 1300s in this case, to discuss today's higher education crisis. I believe, of course, that historical perspectives can illuminate our struggle today, but this chapter felt disjointed from the rest of the text, and required a different background and understanding than the very twenty-first century rest of the book -- perhaps I am not the person for this chapter, and that's okay.

I also wonder, at times, what undergirds the romantic view of the university for people who are not Meyerhoff. For me, the university is a place of infinite play -- playing with language, playing with words, playing with ideas. Again, my post on Jaffe's book will expand upon the understanding that play for your boss is still work. But, for those of us who did come into higher education with language, writing, and creation on our minds, the university does, in fact, give us ample place to do so, so long as we are not so enamored that we miss the capitalistic, neoliberal foundation on which it was built.

Can we be romantic without romanticism? That is: Can we love the affordances of higher education, including that I was able to read and write for 6 years, an immense privilege, and know that it was not the place necessarily that did that for us, but rather, the time, the invisible debt or scholarships or family money as "income," the walkability of our campuses, the dining halls that took care of our meals, the mentors, professors, and staff who literally cleaned up after us? Can we see all of this, all at once, holding inside our minds the idea that the university did this and that we don't need the university to do this, if we had truly radical societies in which all our needs were collectively met, so that we could read, and write, and hang out with our friends, and know that breakfast would be waiting for us, hot and ready, in the morning in the dining halls?

Because I think, at the heart of it, the romanticizing of higher ed from those of us still inside of us is about the future -- our whole life's work ahead of us, so brilliant, of course, genius even -- and for people who went to college and then left, what they want is not the university, but to be nineteen again, surrounded by friends, challenged, allowed to fail in spectacular ways without serious consequences. Of course, I am speaking in generalities here, and know that not everyone's college experience was as rose-tinged as my own.

As an instructor, I can (and do) talk a big game about teaching and empathy, teaching radically, radical honesty and care for students, but at the end of the semester, I input grades, mark attendance, and turn my students into so many squares in the learning management system. I do this because I like having a job, and I like keeping it. Someone has to pay the bills. Someone has to make the breakfast. Someone has to take the trash out. Someone has to live in late capitalism.

And at the heart of my frustration with this book, and every single book like it, to no fault of their own, is that individualized solutions to the crisis of higher education simply will not dismantle the underlying issues of access, equity, and surveillance that pervade our students' lived realities. Faculty, too, have a lived reality, of mortgages in increasingly expensive rural college towns, of childcare challenges, of needing dental insurance. The system is so far beyond higher education -- the system of our country, and the world now, so removed from a utopian space -- that any university-utopia would be an aberration, a blip in the fabric of this country. It would not fix it.

Link: To read: Free on Meyerhoff's website.

[sageclover61]

It’s Only A Myth Witchers Don’t Need Family

@geraskierweek

TITLE: It’s Only A Myth Witcher’s Don’t Need Family

AUTHOR/ARTIST: @sageclover61

PROMPT DAY #: Day 6, Found Family

SUMMARY: The general population is wrong about a long of things. Witchers have feelings, Mages have feelings, and Bards are more than the shenanigans they get up to. Geralt might think he doesn't care what others believe him to be, but he's more than their hatred and their fears. Over time, he learns a valuable lesson about his pack.

WORD COUNT (if applicable):4881 

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: NA

RATING: T

ADDITIONAL NOTES: AO3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828018

Everyone knows that Witchers don’t have feelings. They don’t form attachments, they can’t feel anything , and they’re no better than the monsters that they hunt. Those who believe in souls would say that Witchers don’t have them, can’t have them, because they’re too inhuman for a thing as human as a soul.

  Some say that Witchers were born without souls, and others would say that they were cut out of them. Either way, they were inhuman.

  They’re wrong. Witchers didn’t do families. Or attachment. But it’s a choice, a rule, a law . They’re sterile, and the only thing that separates them from the monsters that they hunt is the choices that they make. But not because they were incapable of attachments or feelings. Rather, they felt everything too strongly, and used the coldness they displayed as a means to protect themselves.

  They could live forever. No one around them was going to. Human lives were a single grain of sand in the hourglass of the universe.

Everyone knows that mages trade their capacity to feel things for the enhancements that make them beautiful and immortal and powerful. It makes them cold, and petty, and amoral. They’re human, anymore. They’re something greater.

  Humanity fears them for it, and uses them, and craves to be like them in the same pretty sentences they weave to use to abuse them. 

  Mages don’t want families. They sacrifice their ability to have children in exchange for power. They don’t need anyone. Not to depend on, not to be dependent on them. They did live forever. Even the lives of the Witchers were but a grain of sand.

Everyone knows that bards aren’t to be trusted. Their words hid too much behind them, charming wives away from their husbands, husbands away from their wives, and running away before anything could be done about it.

  But there were whispers, in dark corners of taverns at night, when no bards were around. Rumors of clandestine meetings, from which only the bard would leave alive and of coin trading hands as quickly as daggers sinking into hearts, and strange concoctions being tipped into drinks when no one was watching, leaving the drinker dead by morning.

  They didn’t have families. They didn’t need families, all the bastard children running around unclaimed. They didn’t have time for them. Lives too short, too many places to visit and epic ballads to write, and deaths to be gleaned at the hands of jilted lovers.

They’re wrong, about Witchers. Witchers are less than human, but they’re more, too. If humanity is defined by their capacity to feel, then Witchers are defined not only by their infinitely greater senses, but also their infinitely greater capacity to feel .

  Geralt can’t speak for all the Witchers, but he finds that their disdain for him makes everything, easier, somehow. They hate him, so they send him on his way once he’s helped them, often without paying all that he’s owed, and it’s easier to keep himself from getting attached to them. He says little, cloaking himself in a facade of whatever the fuck they need to keep from desiring to get closer to him.

  He pretends so well and for so long, that he forgets that he’s pretending. Opinions of him decrease and decrease, until he didn’t know they could get any worse, and then it does get worse.

  “You say that you can’t choose but you had to, and you’ll never know if you were right. Your reward will be a stoning and you will run. You will try to outrun the girl in the woods and you cannot. She is your destiny.”

  She does not tell him that the stoning is his reward for caring so much, but it is. He cares deeply, and impossibly, and being able to do so is supposed to be against the way of the Witcher.

He kills neither the girl nor the mage, but the whole town of Blaviken is dead.

  Geralt uses a Witcher Sign, and he wonders if anyone else had ever thought of such a use for it. He uses Axii to wipe the knowledge of the curse of the black sun from Stregobor’s mind, and force him to forget about Renfri.

  He manages to convince Renfri to stop hunting him, and move on with her life. She’s safe, now. She doesn’t have to run unless she wants to, and she can discover for herself what she wants.

  She’s 16 and she has never had peace. But she can have it now, she deserves it.

  Renfri trails after him for 3 days, and then, she is gone, having chosen for herself what comes next.

  She was the first of Geralt’s pack, though she did not know it.

Jaskier was, in all probability, the sluttiest slut who had ever been a slut. If not, he was definitely the sluttiest bard who’d ever existed. He who would happily charm into his bed anything and everything that could possibly consent to joining him there. The husbands, the wives, the elves, the monsters, even those who believed themselves to be the most celibate of priests and priestesses allowed themselves to be charmed into his bed.

  He loved this life of performing for the masses, and running from vengeful cuckolds. Jaskier had always craved some more adventure, and this was as fun as it got.

  But then, the great Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, walked into the bar while he was playing, and he knew that even greater adventure awaited him.

  His first adventure, and he even ended up with a brand new, elven crafted, lute. From Filavander, the king of the elves. He didn’t think it could get any better than that, but then he was falling in love with the Witcher who didn’t use enough words, and, who despite his course addressing of him, treated him well.

  Tumbling into Geralt’s bedroll with him, there was no place on the entire Continent that he would rather be.

  He was the second member of Geralt’s pack, and followed by his side, faithfully, for twenty three years.

Yennefer did not have a choice. She had a series of impossible decisions, and a destiny that led in a direction she did not wish for, so she broke it. No longer was she the little girl to accept the hand of cards that had been dealt to her. No. She needed no one. She was as alone as she had always been, but she chose power over being a wife or a mother. She did not know that was her choice.

  She did not know that humanity despised mages, even while demanding their services to fix their messes. Yennefer had the potential to be the greatest mage to ever exist, and yet for thirty years she was nothing more than a royal arse wiper.

  Nobody. She was nobody. She was hated and despised by the same people whose very lives depended on her. It was not what she had envisioned, nor was it the power she’d so desired.

  But then she was escorting the queen and the new darling princess the queen didn’t even want, and she could not allow her to so callously attempt to bargain with the assassin for her own life, with the life of her child.

  What mother was willing to allow a fiend her child if it meant that she could live?

  The assassin kills the mother with a single blade, but Yennefer is willing to risk her own life to save the babe, and the magic accepts her desire without requiring her life.

  The baby wasn’t born of her blood, but she realizes that’s okay. She doesn’t know what Kalis named her daughter, so Yennefer names the baby Ksenia.

Yennefer hates being trapped in a gilded cage for a stupid mayor of a stupid town in a stupid country that she hates infinitely. But she must provide for the little girl she’s raising as her own, and this is the only way, now that she’s left the Aedirn court.

  Ksenia is almost ten, and Yennefer loves her more than she's ever loved anyone, and if the mayor so much as touches a single hair of her head, she's burning this town down.

  She was entertaining herself with a masked orgy when a Witcher brought her a pitcher of apple juice and a dying bard. What wish did they make, she wondered, as she mixed the antidote for the tumor in the throat.

Could she use the Witcher to get the mayor off her back? She didn’t want her daughter growing up here. It simply wasn’t the best place for her to be. So what to do…

In retrospect, using the Witcher to attack the members of the council she hated the most, especially before she knew all of what was going on, was an incredibly stupid mistake. She was lucky Ksenia hadn’t suffered any harm, once the djinn had set its sights on the house they were all in.

  So was the fact that Geralt had made the third wish silently. It could be anything. But whatever wish he’d made, Ksenia was safe, and so was she. It had to be good enough.

  “You know, you could have just told me that you wanted to get yourself out of this place.” 

  Yennefer turned around quickly, seeing the Witcher standing behind her. “And how do I know you truly would have helped us? Your kind isn’t so fond of my kind, as I recall.”

  She could hear the bard speaking with Ksenia, but it wasn’t important. Whatever Geralt was about to say, however, she could feel that it would be one of the most important things she would hear for a very long time.

  “Contrary to popular belief, Witchers aren’t all heartless beings. Regardless of my feelings towards someone, I will not ignore a child in danger, especially when there is a chance I can help save them.”

  Yennefer didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent, watching her daughter. The daughter whose life she had risked foolishly, because she had been too selfish to ask for assistance.

  Ksenia was laughing at something the bard had said, she wasn’t sure what. When had she last seen such a carefree expression on her child’s face? Had she really spent so much valuable time with this worthless situation, when there were so many more important things? Like whether or not her daughter was happy ?

  There was a sigh from Geralt, then, as he moved to leave. “I will not keep you from your child any longer than I already have. All I ask is that should anything happen, you ask for help, before it is too late.”

  “Ksenia.” She did not raise her voice, loathe as she was to separate her from what she was finding so hilarious, but she also needed to know that the child really was okay after all that had happened.

  “Yes, Mama?” Ksenia turned her head in recognition of her name being called, but she didn’t move the rest of her body, and she was still grinning, eyes still laughing. She somehow looked younger than her nine years. Smaller and more innocent, but not unhealthy. Not injured . 

  “It’s time to go, My Heart. There’s another home waiting for us elsewhere.” She didn’t know where, but there would be somewhere . Anywhere would be better than this place had been for them.

  Yennefer and her daughter were the third and fourth additions to Geralt’s pack, and neither of them had any idea.

“And what does a Mage like you want with a dragon hunt?” Jaskier asked the next they saw Yennefer. “Don’t you have a daughter to be looking after?”

  The expression of sour hurt that spread across Yennefer’s face was almost enough for him to regret his taunt. But it wasn’t until she said, “Ksenia is dying from dragon pox, I need the dragon’s heart to cure it,” that he really regretted it.

  Even after so long, he could still remember the fear in his sisters’ eyes as they heard of a mysterious plague sweeping through the land, and the horror in his parents’ eyes when the youngest had fallen ill with it. He could remember watching helplessly as it spread from one sister to the next, as his parents locked his sisters away in a room, unable to watch as the sickness slowly stole away their lives.

  “Jaskier-”

  It had been the strangest, and deadliest plague. A wasting illness, a horrible rash, an ever rising fever. It had left them bedridden, lost in waking nightmares. Famished, but unable to eat, and sweating more than they could possibly hope to drink. He could still hear their screams, as the disease had taken weeks to run its course. Though he had been told to stay away, he just couldn’t. He’d snuck into their room, laying with them, and holding them as they shook and cried, praying to any god who would listen to spare his baby sisters.

  But it had all been pointless.  A month after the first signs had been noticed, they had all been stolen away from him, leaving him alone to face his parents.

  “Jaskier!”

  Jaskier found himself blinking, staring at Geralt in confusion. When had the Witcher moved in front of him? “Geralt? What’s the matter?”

  Golden eyes stared back at him, narrowed in concern. “You were speaking with Yennefer, but froze. I’ve been trying to get your attention for several minutes now.” he paused for a moment, eyes searching for any unseen wounds, but Jaskier knew that he wouldn’t find any. “What happened?”

  He shook his head, trying to calm his heart as he put on the same fake smile he’d been forced to wear all those years ago. “It’s nothing, I was just distracted for a moment.”

Jaskier might have missed the whole of the battle sleeping in, but the fight he’d missed had nothing on the scene he witnessed now. The whole of the dragon’s lair was littered with blossoming flowers in a pale blue, yellow, and dark purple, and in the back of the cave, alongside the massive body of the green dragon, a golden egg was glowing .

  He’d never seen this kind of flower before, but even from where he was standing, he could feel the magic emanating from the petals, so thick it was almost impossible to breathe.

  His sisters would have loved it. A sunny meadow would have been prettier, but even a cave full of flowers in their favorite colors would have been a hit.

  Despite himself, he reached down to pick one of the pale blue ones. Even as he bent now, it felt like blasphemy to vandalize it, but he just wanted to get a better look at the flower that reminded him so much of his youngest sister.

  Even as he severed the stem, the flower crumbled into dust.

  “Humans have all but wiped the dragons out, believing them to hold all manner of cures for their ailments. Fertility, blindness, lost limbs, even to hold the secrets of immortality. They’re wrong. There is no cure that can restore your womb.”

  Jaskier glanced to where Borch was standing in front of Yennefer. Borch was holding a handful of the flowers that he’d just tried, and failed, to pick.

  “These flowers only grow where dragon fire has burned, but they’re most common where we hatch our young. I give these to you freely. My heart will heal yours.”

  “ Dragon’s Heart,” Yennefer gasped.

  Jaskier swallowed heavily. “Borch,” he said, quietly. He did not think he could speak louder, but he also did not think the gold dragon would have any trouble hearing him. “Would flowers like these… have saved them?”

  “Perhaps, Julien Alfred Pankratz.”

  His insides burned at how ironic it was that flowers in their favorite colors might have saved the lives of his little sisters. There was a very sad, very epic ballad in there somewhere.

  A dragon’s fire breathes new life.

  “You may take these with you, Bard.” Borch handed him a bouquet of three flowers, one in each color. One for each sister. “They will not wilt, and if you were to plant them, they would grow.”

  “Thank you.” There were no words that Jaskier could say that would convey his gratitude. But his heart burned, too. These were the flowers that would have saved the lives of his little sisters, and he was only holding them too many decades too late to be of use. “Yennefer, may I come with you?” He was intimately familiar with dragon pox. At the very least, he could help Ksenia feel more comfortable while Yennefer prepared the medicine to cure it.

  “Jaskier.”

  Jaskier turned around, and walked towards where Geralt was standing outside the cave. He hugged the witcher. “I need this,” he whispered, brokenly, even as Geralt kissed his forehead. “I need closure. And you need to go find your Child Surprise. She needs you.”

  “I know you do.” Geralt’s voice was soft, almost softer than Jaskier thought was possible. “I’ll find you, or you will find me, when you’re ready. And by then, I may have my Child Surprise, ready for you to meet.”

Yennefer made the cure for dragon pox, and Ksenia lived.

  And Jaskier found himself in a place he’d never ever thought he’d return.

  There were three marked graves in a meadow in Lettenhove. The pox had been believed too contagious for them to be buried in the family graveyard, so they had been buried here instead. This was almost easier, however, because it meant that he could carry out his task without any witnesses.

  He planted the baby blue flower over the first grave, the purple flower over the second grave, and the yellow flower over the third.

  “Answer your calling,” his eldest sister had said, her dying words to him, as he’d held her hand and fervently wished that she would live. “Go be a bard.”

  He had spent his entire childhood trying to be the very best big brother that he could be. He’d learned to braid their hair, and had played dress up with them, and stolen their mother’s makeup, and cooked with them. He’d also sung an infinite number of songs, and read bedtime stories or made them up, and all in all, they were his fondest memories.

  But they had been gone for decades, and he’d left very soon after their deaths, unable to cope with their absences in a house in which the ghosts weighed more than the air they breathed.

  There had been no joy, and the pain had not only been emotional.

  “In a house of too many secrets

There’s no people, only their strife.

At the end of dying meadows,

A dragon’s fire breathes new life.”

  He sighed. “No, no, that’s not right. There needs to be something about the memories in that house. It was… rife with them.”

  “Excuse me. I’m sorry, are you desecrating those graves?”

  Jaskier spun around. A brown haired woman was leaning against a tree at the edge of the meadow. She looked young, but looks could be deceiving. “Excuse you, I would never . If you must know, they’re family.”

  “Sometimes our blood is the people we want to hurt the most. I’m Renfri. You’re… Jaskier, the bard, right?”

  She was armed, but she hadn’t drawn her blade, nor did he think that she was about to attack him. Or at least, he hoped not. He was armed too, at least. If it came to that. Not that he was very useful with a blade.

  “They died of dragon pox. I wish them no ill will, I’m simply here for closure. What brings you to the graves of three Lettenhove daughters who didn’t even have the respect of being buried in their family graveyard?”

  “I had heard that the bard who traveled with the white wolf of Rivia was traveling this way, and I wanted to meet you. I’m on my way to see Geralt again, it’s been… a number of years since I saw him last, and I thought it would be polite to ask if you cared to accompany me.”

  Jaskier looked back at the graves. The flowers seemed… healthier, than when he’d planted them. Taller, perhaps, if that was even possible.

  “As I’m sure you know, there’s an inn not that far from here. I’m leaving in the morning, but we can stop here as we leave.”

  He didn’t have his closure yet, but he did also greatly want to go back to Geralt. He’d been feeling lethargic for days.

  It was possible the woman was using him as a trap to get Geralt, but if that was the case, then she had no idea who she was dealing with. If she was telling the truth though, and he really thought she was, then it meant he didn’t have to travel to Cintra by himself, and he liked that idea.

  “I’m not ready to go back to the inn yet, but I will travel with you back to Geralt.”

He sang a few ballads in the tavern at the inn, including a new one in his rotation about the White Wolf. Songs of heartbreak and the lonely Witcher were popular with the masses, even if it was mostly an exaggeration.

  He loved Geralt, and maybe Geralt loved him back, but while his heart did feel broken, it has nothing to do with Geralt and everything to do with three little girls.

  He still channeled it into the song.

  "Did Geralt break your heart?" Renfri asked when he joined her after his performance. "I would be happy to knock some sense into his skull for you."

  Jaskier shook his head. "We both had things that we needed to take care of, and we'll see each other again when we're done. But some audiences prefer songs like that one and I like the coin they'll part with when they're satisfied."

  "I couldn't help but overhear you in the meadow, were you writing a new ballad?"

  "I'm hoping it'll bring me closure. Anyway, I think I'm going to head to bed."

Travelling with Renfri was nice. She let him ride double on her horse, and they made really good time.

  They chatted about their adventures, telling various stories or just making idle chit chat. She was infinitely more talkative than Geralt.

  But it didn’t help with the emptiness he was feeling in his chest. It was growing. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now, Renfri’s random diversions of dialogue was the only thing distracting him away from it.

  “Tell me about the bards who assassinate people with poison while wandering around the bar with no one ever the wiser.”

  He blinked. “What?” He supposed it wasn’t exactly a secret that some bards used the opportunity provided by their ability to wander around mostly unnoticed to perform more nefarious acts, but he’d never done it himself. He’d never… felt that urge. “There’s probably good money for those with the skill and inclination. But why commit murder when the greatest pleasures in life comes from sleeping with them?”

  It occurred to him that he’d slept with a lot fewer people once he’d started sleeping with Geralt. The Witcher had a lot more stamina than your standard human. Needed less sleep, too. Meant the best of both worlds.

“The call of the White Wolf is loudest at the dawn

The call of a stone heart is broken and alone

Born of Kaer Morhen

Born of No Love

The song of the White Wolf is cold as driven snow

  Bear not your eyes upon him lest steel or silver draw

Lay not your breast against him or lips to ease his roar

For the song of the White Wolf will always be sung alone

For the song of the White Wolf will always be sung alone

  Cast not your eyes upon him, lest he kiss you with his sword

Lay not your heart against him or your lips to ease his roar

For the song of the White Wolf we'll always sing alone

For the song of the White Wolf we'll always sing alone”

  Jaskier was singing in the bar of an inn somewhere north of what was left of Cintra, and he was beyond exhausted. Sleep did not come easily, and what sleep did come was plagued by nightmares of losing what little family he thought he’d gained.

  He was about to beg off because even just lying restlessly on a bed sounded better than staying down here any longer, when who but Geralt walked in, Ksenia and a younger girl he didn’t recognize on his heels.

  The younger girl was the spitting image of Pavetta, and he realized it could be none other than Princess Cirilla of Cintra.

  “Geralt!” he exclaimed, barely noticing as Renfri made a beeline after him as he hurried over to embrace the Witcher. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, standing up on his toes so that he could kiss Geralt.

  “And I you,” Geralt answered, after kissing him back. “Ciri, meet Jaskier.”

  “Hi,” the little girl said.

  “Geralt.”

  “Renfri?” Geralt smiled at Jaskier’s traveling companion, who was standing behind Jaskier. “It’s good to see you again. This is Ciri, and Ksenia. And I guess you’ve met Jaskier?”

  “Ran into him in Lettenhove. Geralt, I would be happy to see that the girls get something to eat, and a room.”

  “You should do that,” Jaskier suggested, before kissing Geralt again. “I think Geralt and I have… some things to, uh, talk about.”

  “We do?”

  “We do,” Jaskier repeated, dragging Geralt in the direction of the room he and Renfri had already rented for the night.

They stayed a few days longer than Geralt had intended, but Renfri and Jaskier had enough coin, and Ksenia and Jaskier both needed a few days of rest before making the long journey to Kaer Morhen.

  Once they left, Ciri and Ksenia, who had been riding double on Roach, took turns riding double with Renfri so that the horses could rotate who was carrying the weight of two. Sometimes Geralt would insist Jaskier ride as well, which was new, he’d never let Jaskier ride Roach before.

  It took them weeks to get to Kaer Morhen, but Vesemir was waiting for them when they arrived.

  The eldest witcher stared at them, and then he rolled his eyes as he opened the gate to let them in. “The others didn’t bring their packs this year,” he said. “But Lambert, Eskel, and Coen are all here.”

  “Thank you,” Geralt said, and with that, he led his family into the home that would always welcome him.

Destiny would bring Yennefer back to them, and time would allow Ksenia a full recovery from her time bedridden by the dragon pox. Yennefer would have to come, someone had to teach Ciri control of her volatile magics.

  Vesemir wasn’t going to say anything, but he really hoped it was before Ciri managed to dismantle the entire keep with a single shout.

  The other Witchers learned to enjoy having some women in the keep who could remind them to stop eating traveling rations all winter long. It was a reminder, really, that they deserved good things too.

  And Jaskier… wasn’t just a bard. He taught Ciri and Ksenia, with Renfri’s help and using Geralt’s long hair, all of the courtly braids he’d learned to make of his sisters’ hair. He also made a mean chicken noodle soup.

  He also worked on his newest ballad, an ode to the memory of his sisters.

  “Jaskier! You have to play a new ballad! A sad one, those are my favorites,” Ciri begged, one eaving after supper when Geralt’s pack and all the Witchers had gathered in the main living room, in front of the warm fire. She was sitting at Jaskier’s feet, watching out the window as it continued snowing.

  Jaskier hummed, and plucked idly at his lute as he considered whether or not he was ready to play the ballad that would bring him closure. “100 years ago, the dragon pox took my little sisters away from me. I haven’t finished it yet, it’s not really telling the story I want to tell.”

  “That’s okay,” Ciri said. “I want to hear it anyway.”

  Jaskier smiled, sadly. He couldn’t deny her anything, and he didn’t want to.

“At the end of the old road

In a house built on a foundation of strife

There’s too many secrets, too many memories

Too many necessaries after too many centuries

All the things of which it was rife.

  Far too much that was all but owed

And yet, a dragon fire breathes new life

Into what first appeared a dying meadow

Being that which is not a rough

But all it ever needed was that new life.”

  He plucked a few more chords, but he didn’t resist when Geralt tugged the lute from his idle fingers. “You’ll be happy with it when you finish it, and it’ll bring you the closure you’re still seeking.”

“I’ll help!” Ciri exclaimed. “It’s just a matter of finding the right words, right?”

“Something like that.” He leaned against Geralt, and let himself find comfort in that.

[ghostlyscene]

17 things I learned before turning 17

According to my birth certificate, I turn 17 this year. It's weird because part of me still feels 4 and part of me feels 113, but the actual age I currently am is 16. I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned. I honestly don’t know what I’m writing and looking back, this post is literally just me rambling and talking about my life and ideas that maybe are cliche. But I wanted to make this post about things I’ve learned so far in life and who knows, maybe these thoughts will evolve as I grow.

1. Crying is not a weakness - I used to always think crying was a sign of weakness or losing to someone or giving in. But as I’ve grown and experienced more things that make me want to cry, I’ve come to understand that crying is therapeutic and it helps me move on. I have to move past hardships somehow and crying is my form of coping and healing.

2. I love traveling - my family has always loved traveling ever since I was really little. I used to always be the one in daycare and elementary going to Mexico or China during breaks and later on, London, Paris, Vienna, Singapore. All these wonderful places, some I can’t even remember. Now that I’m older, I’ve fallen in love with traveling and I enjoy seeing the culture, architecture, art, way of life, and everything a country has to offer. I’ve been to 45 countries and I’m almost 17. That’s crazy and I’m so grateful for every experience and I can’t wait for more.

3. sweatshirts, sweaters, and tights are the best thing to wear - I’ve basically given up on looking nice most of the time. Comfort is always first and soft sweatshirts and hoodies and sweaters are the best for napping in and watching shows and cramming studying sessions and homework. also tights are the best thing ever cause they basically look nice with everything I wear.

4. stationery is obsessive - I love love love stationery and it’s honestly not a healthy obsession but I just can’t help myself. Every colored pen, marker, highlighter, little stickers and everything you can think of, I will probably have or want to buy when I’m in stores. I’ve recently been obsessed with zebra sarasa pens and mild liners (the pastel colors!!!)

5. Taylor Swift concerts are the happiest place to be - I’ve always imagined what Taylor concerts would be like and it was at the top of my bucket list forever because I had never been able to convince my mom to take me. My mom was always worried about safety which is understandable, but I convinced her to take me to the reputation tour. It was such a worthwhile experience and my mom and I enjoyed every moment. Taylor has such a way of making you feel at home and connected with her. I was so genuinely happy that night, singing my heart out and forgetting all my worries and insecurities for a night. I can’t wait to go to another show (hopefully soon) and I hope all of y’all will get to go to one eventually.

6. Italian food is the best food around.- pasta, gelato, pizza and omg Italian food is just amazing. That’s it. There’s nothing else to say really.

7. I’m addicted to coffee, fairy lights, and aesthetics. - Coffee is something i always need and it just tastes so good. I usually get a iced caramel macchiato but I’ve also been loving stronger coffee tastes recently. Also I don’t get any sleep during school so basically I live off caffeine. The fairy lights in my room make me so happy and warm and are a great stress reliever. Definitely recommend. Aesthetics!!! Literally love scrolling through tumblr and Pinterest for hours to look at aesthetic photos and edits and I love seeing my friend’s edits and discovering new editors and ahh!!!! definitely check them out and give them the love they deserve. Editors work so hard.

8. Art is a form of therapy - I love doing art whenever I’m stressed because it helps me forget everything. And I don’t think you have to be really talented or draw anything complex because whenever I draw stuff for competition, I always feel stressed. It’s the small doodles and careless sketches that make me feel the happiest.

9. true friends are it replaceable - I’ve realized how important a good friend is and having a person that is always there to talk to and share your worst and best moments with is something that will make your life infinitely better. You don’t need a bunch to feel happy. One true, honest one is all that one ever needs but that doesn’t mean that you should stop meeting new people cause you never know who will become your best friend or who needs you. Never stop making friends but eliminate the toxic ones.

10. having scars is not a bad thing - I’ve learned that having a history and a part of your life that is bad doesn’t make you a bad person or shameful. It is what makes you the person you are today and you should embrace it and use it to better yourself or help other.

11. Music has always been there for me - listening to music and making playlists and discovering songs is such a huge part of my life. There’s a song for every emotion and music can be so healing. So go listen to some nice songs and discover just how nice music can make one feel.

12. Put yourself first- it’s not selfish - I used to always think that thinking of myself and my feelings first was selfish. So I put others first and forgot to take care of myself. But I’ve realized that you can’t love others and help others to the full potential until you are happy with yourself and you feel content with your life and are at a good place yourself. So if you need to take care of your mental health or whatever is important to you, do it. The people who truly love you will understand and be there the whole time.

13. Don’t let your anxiety take over - anxiety can be difficult and uncontrollable and sometimes it is necessary to take care of yourself. But learning how to cope is part of the healing process and you should not let your anxiety ruin your day and should push to experience new things and go out of your comfort zone.

14. Society has unnecessary standards for woman - ok tell me why we are obligated to shave, to have nice hair, to have perfect makeup and perfect skin, and to fit a mold. I’ve found that women’s dress code can be so strict and unnecessary compared to men’s. Women are expected to do more and to fight more for what they want and to be caring, model-like, and many other “traditionally woman” things but that isn’t every women and I don’t think everyone has to adhere to those standards.

15. It is vital to become educated and know your values - this world is so complex and there’s so much out there to learn and become educated on. I think it is important to know about history and current events and become educated enough to have your own values and know why you stand by them. To me, this is part of growing up and becoming your own person and I’m always working on that. I’ve yet to achieve it but I’ve made progress.

16. “may your heart remain breakable but never by the same hands twice”.-I want to be able to put down the thick wall around my heart and to let myself love and feel again. I want to let people into my life more that make me smile and feel safe, even if it means getting hurt again. I want to allow myself to trust others and to build more relationships with people. I think it’s hard because I’ve felt abandoned and hurt so much but some tiny part of me hoped that one day, I’ll be ready to accept someone. And I think this is important for everyone to do or work towards.

17. Step into the daylight and let it go. - something I have definitely learned and am still working on doing daily is learning to let go. I’ve realized that it’s not easy, and some part of me always wants to nitpick on every tiny mistake in my life. I don’t think I’ll ever be fully satisfied with myself and I will always value improvement. But I’ve realized that the amount of stress I have over uncontrollable aspects of life is too much. So I think that sometimes it’s best to just take a deep breath and move on. you only have so long to live so instead of dwelling on the past, you have to move on and work on improving the future.

[oberlincollegelibraries]

Sunday Edition: Staff Recommendations

We can’t believe the semester is almost over already! Soon Obies can focus on resting and relaxing instead of testing and studying. To help our favorite students unwind over winter shutdown, we are focusing this week’s Sunday edition on recommended reading from the OCL staff. Some of the books are not available at OCL, but many are! Those items will be on display in Azariah’s Cafe this week until winter term, so stop by to pick up your vacation read!

Megan from Public Services recommends A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Megan: “I was blown away by the the writing, the story, and the characters. So much goes on behind the scenes in public spaces and in people's interior lives.”

Patty from Discovery and Metadata Services recommends The Moth Presents Occasional Magic by Catherine Burns.

Patty: “This book is based on a series of live performances. The tapes of those performances were turned into a podcast and then some of the best stories are presented in this book. It is a wonderful look at humanity - all the best and sometimes the worst but always touching.”

Patty from Discovery and Metadata Services also recommends Normal People by Sally Rooney

Patty: “This is a book that not just entertains, it makes you think about relationships and life. Ms. Rooney is a new voice in the book world and I hope we have many more novels from her in the future.”

Anne from Archives recommends Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott.

Anne: “Humorous and encouraging about the art of writing and enjoying life.”

Faith from the Conservatory Library recommends On the Clock: What Low-Wage Work Did to Me and How It Drives America Insane by Emily Guendelsberger. 

Faith: “Loved this book by Oberlin Alum and former Library student assistant Emily Guendelsberger. The author worked a series of low paying jobs and writes about what it really is like to work at Amazon, a call center, and a McDonald's. Her descriptions of the jobs and her co-workers captivated me. It is also a very sad look at what the working poor have to deal with in this country.  Emily also has a wicked sense of humor, so that added to the charm.”

Alexia in Administration recommends Leading the Race: the Transformation of the Black Elite in the Nation's Capital, 1880-1920 by Jacqueline M. Moore.

Alexia: “ Mary Church Terrell is a seminal figure in this book.”

Alexia in Administration also recommends Kindred by Octavia E. Butler

Alexia: “ Outstanding science fiction that makes one grappling with the lasting impact of slavery on our cultural consciousness and psyche.”

Alexia in Administration also recommends The Library Book by Susan Orlean.

Alexia: “ Excellent ‘love letter; to libraries written by a NYT best seller author and Shaker Heights, Ohio native “

Alexia in Administration also recommends Never Caught: the Washingtons' Relentless Pursuit of Their Runaway Slave, Ona Judge by Erica Armstrong Dunbar.Alexia: “ Excellent hidden history about slavery resistance against the highest office in the US.”

Alexia in Administration also recommends Historians on Hamilton: How a Blockbuster Musical is Restaging America's Pasedited by Renee C. Romano and Claire Bond Pottert

Alexia: “Great compilation of essays on the complicated character of Hamilton and how the musical has re-branded the history of this important American figure.”

Sara from Discovery and Metadata Services recommends The Secret Life of Violet Grant by Beatriz Williams.

Sara: “ I really enjoy the language style/word choices of this author. The books are hard sometimes to get started in, but always finish well. This book is the 3rd in the Schuyler Sister trilogy, but a good one to start with. Then go back and read Tiny Little Thing and Along the Infinite Sea. All of her books so far have been amazing! “

Sarah in Administration recommends The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin.

Sarah: “The first in a trilogy, this Hugo award winning book tells a unique post-apocalyptic story of the end of the world. Told from the triptych perspective of a powerful female lead, it explores the fundamental human questions of what connections bind us together and what hatred can tear us apart. Great world building, relevant themes, compelling characters. An interesting and engaging read!”

Lindsey from Discovery and Metadata Services recommends So Pretty / Very Rotten: Comics and Essays on Lolita Fashion and Cute Culture by Jane Mai and An Nguyen.    

Lindsey: “You don't have to dress Lolita to enjoy this glimpse into the world of the Japanese street fashion. It explores both the history of Lolita, as well as the authors' own experiences within the subculture, and is littered with adorable illustrations.”

Alonso in Reference and Instruction recommends The Things I Would Tell You: British Muslim Women Write, edited by Sabrina Mahfouz

Alonso: “ Although the focus is not necessarily American, the stories are still relevant to Muslim women globally while also using this medium in order to challenge stereotypes the general public may have of marginalized communities, particularly Muslim women. “

Gena from Special Collections and Preservation recommends  Let's Pretend This Never Happened, by Jenny Lawson.

Gena: “It's hilarious, improbable, and mostly true.”

Tim from Discovery and Metadata Services recommends Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory by Caitlin Doughty

Tim:  “It's funny, morbid, frank and details exactly what’s wrong with modern death denial and an overview of the history of death rituals and practices from around the world. She also has a good Youtube channel.”

Tim from Discovery and Metadata Services also recommends I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies): True Tales of a Loudmouth Girl by Laurie Notaro.

Tim:  “It's a quick and hilarious read.”

Ashley from Acquisitions, E-Resources & Serials recommends Dealing with Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede.

Ashley: “It's a good story about a princess determining her own future, rather than one that was dictated for her. Light, and comedic, it turns a lot of fairy tale tropes on their head.”

Ed from Special Collections and Preservation recommends The Totally Unscientific Study of the Search for Human Happiness by Paula Poundstone.

Ed: “Just read this myself. Light reading for sure and who doesn't need a break from politics? Poundstone's humor does not attack out, she's never really mean or angry. Instead she mines her own personal life for comedy, but in the process makes timely broader points about absurdities in our society (that I think we can all relate to). In addition to being self-deprecating, revealing and funny, Poundstone's a female comic in an overwhelmingly male occupation. She hardly spares a thought for that in the book though; it simply feels like she's going about her career with her own hard working style, and has never let herself be pigeon-holed as a female comic. She's slightly famous, but not wealthy, and even though she struggles at times, she's fundamentally a strong and decent person, a mom raising a family and house full of rescued pets on her own. I can hear her raspy sarcastic voice all through the narrative, and I really enjoyed getting to know her in her regular - but still quirky - private life.”

Crystal from Conservatory Special Collections recommends Do Not Sell at Any Price: the Wild, Obsessive Hunt for the World's Rarest 78 RPM Records by Amanda Petrusich.

Crystal: “This book is a fascinating account of record collectors who specialize in early blues and jazz 78rpm recordings. Petrusich, a music journalist and staff writer for the New Yorker, writes with both empathy and an outsider’s perspective, making her the perfect guide to this weird, esoteric, and mostly-all-male world that is preserving (shaping? fetishizing?) an important part of music history. “

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 1 Part 1

Hello guys ! Here we are with my new long (very long) story ! To be honest, I have so much things I want to happen in this story... it will be a huge work :D I hope I will be more steady than with HSG.

Soooo, this story is about... Liam ! It take place 1 year after HSG, when our young hero starts College ! We’ll see some old character, some new... in a very different environment... I hope you’ll like it !

Liam Monday September 4

Monday. Monday and the return from the summer holidays. A mortal combination for the young lad. He was lying onto is bed, under his sheets. His alarm clock had already rung ten times this morning, but he wasn't brave enough to stand up. Unfortunately, today, his sister wasn't here to tire him out until he goes to the bathroom (yeah, when he was in highschool, she had always been there to wake him up). (He wasn't proud of this, but please, no judgment). Slowly, Liam turned his head on his pillow, and rose his duvet. He was so fine here, drowsy, warm and without any problem. (It definitely was one of his favourite feelings). But obviously, it wasn't endless... (the boy would have love to be infinitely drowsy, warm and without problem but yay, that's not life).

"Dude, you gonna be late." laughed his roommate. "When you told me you weren't a morning person, you weren't exaggerating."

Liam mumbled something imcomprehensible.

He had moved in town two days ago, for the university beginning, and had met in this way Nicolas Lawson, aka Nick. This one was a friend of his bestfriend Nate, who fortunately went to the same university and owned an appartment in the student accomodation. Not directly in the campus, but close enough. Because college was far away Liam's home and state, his mother asked Nick's parents to let her son live here, and there he was. All that because there were no place left in the dormitory. The two boys didn't know each other very well, but it appeared they shared severals interest in common, and Liam thought this apartment share would be fine. However, they got a different point of view about mornings, obviously.

Groggily, the brown lad sat up straight and looked at his roommate, who was in the living room eating breakfast. Am I smelling pancakes ? Shit. I told him I hate theses craps. Liam just stood up, and ran into the bathroom in order to escape the aromatic flavor. Pancakes were his worst nightmare. A forbidden thing. To be honest, he hated food in general. At least since bad things had happened in 12th grade. Anyway, it wasn't the most important today. Liam took off his pajamas, and looked at the mirror. In order to be good-looking for his first day at college, he had exercised during the whole summer, and he was rather satisfied with the result. Standing up at 183 cm (6'0"), he had a nice and slim body. No six pack, but a flat stomach, with a strong chest, which he shaped by swimming the last five months. Indeed, he had stopped soccer during his 12th grade, because his friend and captain left, and the team had changed, becoming less interesting for him. With some of his buddies, he tried some sports, before choosing swimming. However, Liam didn't like to think about this part of his life, because it ended bad (no detail).

The young boy dressed up with jeans and a sweater. He greeted the unicorns under his bed (yeah, don't ask) and then joined Nick, who waited at the door.

"Are you seriously going to the opening course without taking breakfast ?" asked this latter.

"Yeah, I'm not hungry yet, I'll take some dietetics things later."

His roommate nodded silently. He can't understand... I mean, I don't want to have anything to do with food anymore... I'm eating only because it's obviously necessary, that's all. They walked together towards the amphiteater B, where took place the introdutive lesson. Meanwhile, Liam looked a bit more to Nick, letting the dark-haired boy walk in front. Probably around 180 cm (5'11"), he was a twig, without neither muscle nor fat, but only skin and bones. Maybe not as much as... whatever, maybe not enough to be called anorexic, but he was quite thin anyway. During those two days, the brown lad had understood two things : Nick loved to speak about everything, without any awkwardness (which was making Liam blush often, because himself was a prudish boy), and he loved videogames. He brought with him a whole collection of games and consoles, and played like ten or more hours per day. That was probably why when they entered in the amphiteater, they both knew no one. Well, at least they didn't see anyone they knew, and they just sat together, next to a bunch of girls and boys. There were around a thousand of students, from everywhere in the country and maybe beyond that. Who expected economics studies to be so attractive ? And they told me it's a small college. It was so big compared to highschool (to be fairly honest, Liam felt like a little tiny 8yo boy lost in a crowd, and it was scary). Anyway, the head of the faculty was making his speech, barely listened by overexcited students, and the young boy couldn't hear a single word. And for almost two hours, it continued like this, with a boring hubbub. Eventually, after the head of economics department's speech and the head of professor team's speech, they allowed a break. (There were head of somethin' everywhere). Following Nick, Liam went outside, and sighed with weariness.

"I thought it would be boring, but not that boring dude." he mumbled.

"You think so ? I found the speech of the head of the students department about the canteen rather interesting. She said we can eat whatever we want for low price, and it's sound good, isn't it ?"

The mention of food made Liam's belly gurgled loudly, and he blushed when several other students stared at him.

"Told ya it would happen." stated Nick. "You should have eat this morning dude..."

"Quiet, I'm not that hungry." lied the young boy, knowing perfectly he was starving.

Back in 11th and early 12th grade, food had been his weakness, and he had loved it. He even had been named the black hole, because he had been (and he still was) able to eat a lot before feeling full. But this was an old story he didn't want to remember. Some experiences were better to forget...

At noon, the two roommates decided to try the canteen. (Ok, Nick wanted absolutely to, and Liam having no willpower, he came with him). Anyway, it was a buffet, except for the meat, and they could pick whatever they wanted after paying a few dollars. He's right, it's cheap as hell for this food... That could explain the rumor about the freshman 15, but Liam didn't feel concerned. He chose some fried chicken, french fries and water, and then sat on a table. His roommate joined him with a bit more food, but not that much, and they started to eat in silence. The brown lad finished quickly, and while he was waiting for Nick, observed nearby. Here and there, people he had already noticed from his promotion were eating in groups, manifestly knowing each other. According to Nick, there were several parties the last week, but Liam had family issues, and he moved in town only two day ago (sad story, nobody wants to know). He had tried his best to avoid the forces of evils since. (Don't ask).

Suddenly, he glimpsed a familiar face walking outside, with blond hair, but he didn't get time to think about it, because next to him, his roommate finished a sentence by saying his name. Curious, Liam turned his head, and stared at the boy Nick was speaking to. Certainly older than them, he was around their heigh, but with a well built body. He worn a bermuda short and a vest, showing his strongs arms and legs. However, he was rather V-shaped, with a large chest, and Liam judged he probably did swimming.

"Nice to meet you two boys." smiled the newcomer. "I'm Theo Meyers, by the way. Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I saw you and I could not stay overthere without saying anything."

Creepy. He sounds like a stalker. Just, Liam knew some shit about creepy stuff. Parents of his ex were a witch and a serial killer. And they hated him, so he was like an expert about creepy stuff (he had a quite good imagination, but his ex's parents were seriously scaring). Anyway, Theo continued :

"I'm the head (again, the head of something) of the swimteam, and when I noticed you, I immediately knew you were made for the pool."

Nick opened his mouth, but Liam replied faster :

"Thanks man, and you're right, we want to be part of the team. But I thought enrolment would only start tomorow ?"

His roommate looked at him, surprised by this uncommon motivation, but Liam just smiled. Dude, I trained hard for this. Before, he was doing sports with his friends in order to make a physic activity (and because his highschool was like the main place to practice soccer), but now, he needed that to clear his mind.

"That's true, but every club is trying to recruit before." confessed Theo. "You'll see, to be part of the club, it's quite easy : just come to the campus pool tomorow, and ask Laura. Okay ?"

"Sure."

Nick tried again to say something, but didn't get the time to, because Theo stood up and left them with a last smile.

Rebecca Monday September 4 – Tuesday September 5

With meticulouness, the beautiful girl took a little medal out of her cardboard box, and put it on her desk. She smiled with pride when she glimpsed the cup in the box. She won this one last january, for her last tournament as an highschool student. Rebecca dropped it off next to the other, and then stood up to admire her whole collection. Being a national runner had led her to win a lot of reward, and it was one of the thing she decided to bring with her at university. Well, it also allowed me to earn a special scholarship for economy. That was why, in contrary of the others students, she got an appartment for her, and her shedule was modified to let her train. Slowly, she headed towards her bedroom and took off her clothes. It was already 11pm, and after the introductive conference this morning and her exercising this afternoon, she felt exhausted. She lay onto her bed, but heard suddenly a loud voice swearing.

At start, she tried to ignore it, closing her eyes in order to get some sleep. But the boy (she was pretty sure it was a boy) continued to scream, and she could also hear the music of the game he was playing. Jeezus, did I seriously need to do this the first night ? She moved this morning in town, because of organisation issue, and never met her neighbors. It was a college facility, but out of the campus, with bigger apartment. However, Rebecca wasn't a shy girl, even far from it. And she was restless. Definitely restless. When the boy shouted again, saying something like "fuckin' noob", she decided it was enough. The girl stood up, put her clothes back on and went out angrily. She knocked strongly to the next door, and heard someone coming. Eventually, a boy (as she said) opened, quite surprised by this impromptu visit.

"Hi ! I'm your unlucky neighbor." she stated openly. "Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to know if you can shut the fuck up when you're playing video games ? Some people try to sleep when it's late."

A swear word resonated in the flat, revealing she was not talking to the right boy. By the way, this one looked at her absent-mindedly, and he didn't seem offended by her rough attitude. A bit taller than her (she was 181 cm or 5'11"), and broad-shouldered, he worn a striped pajamas, and was probably trying to sleep too. He had dishevelled chestnut hair, and tired eyes. Anyway, he seemed to realise she was speaking about the other guy, because he yelled :

"Nick ! There is a girl here who want you to stop shouting ! Get it dude ?!"

You probably are waking up the whole floor man... Sometimes, boys were just idiot. But the named Nick replied that he understood, and it was all Rebecca asked for. She was about to leave when the lad continued :

"Did I already saw you somewhere ? You look familiar to me..."

Curious, she looked at him. For her tournaments and running, she travelled the whole country, and met a lot of people, but she did not remember him. However, his face lit up, and he exclaimed :

"You're this champion of athletics who won Shirley every year at the tournament in our town. My sis' Chloe is a huge fan of you !"

"Chloe Strucker ?"

It was the only Chloe she knew, a young girl who was rather gifted for running, like her. The lad nodded, enthusiastic. Well, and I remember Shirley Vince too, she was a good opponent last year...

"Rebecca Bab." she introduced herself. "Despite the circumstances, glad to meet you."

"Liam, Liam Strucker." he replied. "Nice to meet you too. Anyway, I should let you sleep, shouldn't I ?"

The young girl smiled. This boy looked a bit odd, but he was certainly sympathic. She may have misjudged her neighbors, after all.

The next morning, Rebecca woke up excited. Today, students were all invited to visit the campus and discover the differents clubs and places. Obviously, because she already had athletic every afternoon during at least 3 hours, she was not supposed to join another club, except, according to her trainer, a sport club. That was why, once dressed and ready, she headed towards the hall 5, where were all the university's sport facilities. Here and there, she glimpsed some students who were in her promotion, but she was too fascinated by the sophomores and juniors which were pluging for their clubs. She glimpsed the cheerleaders and the football clubs, which attracted most of the students. No way. I don't want to be a fuckin' dancer. She hated cheerleading since her mother forced her to try. And obviously, football club looked more for boys than girls. Rebecca went to the fitness club, and then the tennis one's and then, headed towards the swimming club. The town wasn't famous for swimming performance, and the freshman were few. But... according to Bob (her personnal trainer) a bit of swimming would be good for me... She came closer, and looked to the brochure. They asked freshmans girls to join the sorority Alpha Delta, which was the smaller of the campus, and freshmans boys to join the fraternity Theta Omicron, which was also small. But anyway, she didn't care about sorority.

"Hey you. Wanna some information ?"

Rebecca turned towards the boy who talked to her. Smiling, he was wearing the jacket of the swimteam, and held in his hand a brochure like the one she had just read.

"Well, I wanted to know when and where are the training, who is the trainer, how much competitions are you doing and how many girl there are in your club."

(Yeah, she was direct, and she wanted a lot of things. When she started a new sport, she liked to be aware about every detail before). The boy frowned, and answered slowly :

"The pool is open every night, so it's up to you to come training as much as you want. The trainer is Theo, a junior in law pretty good at swimming. You can do as much tournament as you want, and there is at least five girls, without you."

She smiled. Five girls... that's a few. Rebecca got a pen out of her bag, and asked the boy where she was supposed to sign. He showed a little girl next to them, and added :

"I'm Pete, by the way. I have to go or I'll miss registration for the cooking club, but I'll see you tonight for the club party, I guess."

She nodded and then called the girl in order to join the club.

Pete Tuesday September 5 – Wednesday September 6

"Here are the lockers." announced Laura. "Right for boys, left for girls. Please, don't get the wrong one's."

Some people laughed. The young boy, as for him, looked in the large mirror next to him, lost in his mind. For the party, he decided to worn a flowery cool shirt, and0 black jeans he loved. His blond hair were cut short, and he got blue eyes. Eventually, I'm not that ugly... His mother had told him he was ugly just before he moved in town. She also had said he was a fucking little selfish asshole, and a cheese cake (yeah, when she was upset she often said nonsense). Of course, he wasn't an Apollo, unlike several other new swimmer recruit, but whatever, he was fine with himself. The lad followed the group behind Laura, who was presenting the pool's facilities, when he heard someone whisper to his ear :

"You lied to me dude, I thought you were a sophomore or junior, but it seems like you're a freshman..."

Turning back, he ran into Rebecca, the black girl taller than him and way more impressive. She was wearing a sweater and sweatpants, and looked at him with a bit of aggresiveness. Okay.. I shouldn't have talk to her at first place I guess...

"To be fairly honest, I didn't say I was a sophomore or whatever..."

"Yeah, you said nothing. Look, I'm not searching problems, but if you're a pervert or something, just don't try it with me, am I clear ?"

Wow... She's crazy... a pervert, me ? No way, absolutely not. Actually, he talked to her only to be polite. Fortunately for him, Laura called the group to show the pool, and they all joined her. According to rumours (yeah, Pete listened to rumours since the first day), the small girl was Theo's girlfriend, and a pretty bad swimmer, but everyone loved her.

"Just look to the water." she ordered. "You'll see how transparent it is."

The lad believed hear a bit of humor in her voice, but he watched the water anyway. Suddenly, he could feel someone pushing him, and he fell into the pool with a scream. Around him, freshman were all jostled while the olders members were laughing.

"Hello everyone !" shouted the team captain. "I'm Theo, the swimteam leader, and tonight, we're here to welcome the newcomers ! Let's have some fun !"

They were supposed to have a lesson in five hours, at 8 am. But a lot of them were still having fun, like asked Theo. Pete was strating to feel a bit exhausted by this long and hectic party. He wasn't drunk, unlike the great majority of the students, and the heat in the pool added to the brouhaha and his moist clothes made him feel bad. (Honestly, Pete wasn't used to parties... In highschool, he was quite solitary and unpopular). Anyway, the lad went discreetly outside in order to take a break, and once alone, sighed with release. From his position, he could hear the different parties taking place everywhere, according to the club and the fraternity joined. University, the start of something new... He dreamed about this moment during the whole summer. There was something different between the atmosphere here and in highschool. People are not looking for popularity anymore... We're so many... I'm sure to find somes dudes like me here... His mom had always been telling him he wasn't ready to university. That he would come back home in no time, and take a year to make things the right way. But he already survived one week without her. One entire week ! Pete glimpsed a lad sat on a bench not far. I didn't notice him before... He's discreet... Coming closer, the young boy released he was one of the swimmer freshman. Half naked, because of their unvoluntary bathing, he only worn gray sweatpants, and Pete could admire quite a good physic. Light brown-haired with almost grey eyes, the freshman was tall, and well-builded. No abs, but a nice V-torso body, with strongs arms, and a beautiful chest. When he saw Pete, he raised an eyebrow and smiled prudently.

"Hi. Name's Liam. Am I doing something bad ?"

"What ? No, absolutely not. I... I just saw you alone on this bench, in the dark, and I thought I would come to see if everything was fine."

The named Liam had a comforting voice. The more Pete stared at him, the more he found him cute. What am I doing ? I don't even know him... Far away his thoughts, the chestnut boy smiled.

"There is no problem." he assured. "I don't really like parties. Not anymore at least."

"I understand. Too noisy. But you don't have to stay alone for all that, you know ?"

Holy shit. (Just, one of the reasons why Pete was not popular in highschool was quite simple : he was gay. And he decided to join the swimteam in order to... okay, check the boys out). (In other words, this situation was kinda awkward for him).

"I like solitude." stated Liam. "I feel better without people surround me. I can think peacefully. Anyway, thank you for being that polite."

"Well, you're welcome. Being nice is one thing my momma taught me."

Am I serioulsy speaking about my momma ? My mother. Jeezus. Shame on me. Fortunately, the light-brown haired lad didn't seem to note, and he just smiled sadly. Damned... He's so cute when he's doing this... (Pete was the kind of people to get turned out fast. Really fast). However, he had to keep calm. Firstly, because he didn't know the sexual orientation of Liam. Secondly because a young boy smiling sadly had necessarily problems, and Pete didn't want problems. Luckily, Theo saved him from this embarrasing situation when he hurtled and shouted :

"Boys here you are ! You must come ! Come ! We have something for the news recruits ! Come !"

Needless to say, he was heavily drunk, and while speaking, he tried to grabs theirs hands but only caught a bush. Liam as Pete decided to follow him before he pull the poor vegetable off, and the trio went inside.

The whole swimteam was gathered around an enormous cake. Laura handed paper plate and spoon out to every freshman while the other were yelling something like "cake, cake, cake". (They were so drunk that Pete was understanding "coke, coke, coke"). Anyway, once every new recruit had a plate, Laura served piece of the cake, and they all started to eat. Strangely, when the young lad took a large mouthful he didn't recognise the taste of chocolate he expected. Even more, he felt something weird. Seing he was hesitating, Theo just took his spoon, and stuffed it in his mouth.

"You'll see, it's delicious ! With awesome effect ! Just swallow it !"

Having no choice, Pete obeyed easy. At first, he felt nothing more than this weird taste, but soon, he starting to sense at ease. And he enjoyed it. Slowly, like a robot, he turned his head towards the captain, and asked :

"What the hell did you put in this cake ?"

"Why are you talking about cake ?! We told you it was coke dude ! Have a good trip !"

Pete wanted to say something, but only smiled. Damnit, it feel so nice...

To be continued

Well, there are our three mains characters for Chapter One. This is an introduction to the College Society, where a lot of shit will happens. And don’t worry, weight gain will obsviously happen :)

[drumie]

Salutatory Speech.

So as Salutatorian, I was told I would have to write a speech focused on the history... I find that a bit challenging, but here it goes.

A very long time ago, the universe did not exist. There was infinite mass and density, and said universe couldn’t take it, so there was a boom. A big bang of sorts…

Then in the late 90’s and early 2000’s we were born. One of us, in fact, was born on this very day. I want to wish Alicia Hernandez a happy birthday. (sing alicia happy birthday)

So we were born. Our worries were few, but substantial. Two of my personal struggles included catching the next spongebob episode and drinking chocolate milk too fast.

We started pre-school. My only memory from there is getting sick on one too many pigs in a blanket. We met some of our first friends here. Simple times.

2004 - Facebook was created.

2005 - Youtube was created.

Then we started Elementary school. I was at east ridge. Our worries here included getting the last breakfast pizza that was left over because “adam wasn’t here and he would want me to have it.” They included  obsessively cramming for spelling tests, memorizing multiplication facts,  and taking our first TAKS test. TAKS test. Feel old yet?

2006 - Twitter was created

We moved onto 4th grade at SIS… The turf wars began. And for the folks that don’t know, there were two different elementary schools that brought up Kindergarten through 3rd grade. And then these two schools would feed into SIS, Sweetwater Intermediate School. This was our world now. Where we came from defined a person… were you from east ridge, or were you from south east? And I’m ending the beef now, East Ridge was the better of the two. Only kidding! It didn’t matter. There were good things from both schools. I’m just glad that hating and judging people from where they’re from is only something 4th and 5th graders do.

I digress. We’d rack up AR Points ca ching! We’d party like the year we were born… Flamingo fling. Not many worries, but we were still in a hurry, learning about history and Martin Luther King. And those days remained romanticized because again, our biggest concerns only included passing a TAKS test and… our first puberty class.

2010 - Instagram was created

Speaking of puberty, here came middle school. Oh my God. Puberty was like Everyone telling you to look both ways before crossing the street to watch for cars and then a falcon swoops down from the sky and attacks you. Folks I thought that was it for us. As soon as coach Huskey said “Let’s go hit that creek” I recall thinking to myself “yeah I’m going to die in the next few hours.” I found my passion: Band. I also found what I thought was my passion: Football. I remember one day Kiante hit me and I was like “I don’t think I like this very much.” Life got real. Technology took off. We all got phones, social media, iPads. Remember how cool we thought we looked with all of our decent selfies  camwow retro logo in the bottom left? Instagram, Snapchat, facebook, tumblr (lowkey though), Jokebox, iFunny, Youtube, and for the first time, We stopped going to older people for help and we got online and googled it. We were the pioneer generation that was raised by technology. Surrounded by information in the times of our lives when we needed it the most. We began to comprehend the different weights of life. As a middle schooler I pulled a few all-nighters to finish projects and homework… I may or may not have procrastinated on. Our priority list was fine tuned. School and extracurricular were up there now. But memes, relationships, and social media were among them as well.

2012 - Vine was created

Then came High School. lots of smells in high school have you noticed that? The big room smells like shredded tires and hard work and dedication with a hint of Trent tears scattered here and there. You could always tell when bunsen burners were on because the science hall always smelled unpleasant. And Mrs. Melendez’s room when she would burn those Orange Buttercream Scenses that smell like fruity pebbles oh my god.

Smells like the big room, bunsen burners, teen spirit, and those scense’s are the things I think I’ll remember the most.

I learned a few important things in my time in High school that I’d like to share with you.

Freshman year I learned that if you’re unhappy in your situation, you have the ability to change it. Whether it be relationships, extracurricular, or any aspect of life, you can change it. I also learned that social media can be a cruel blackhole, that can distort views, reputations, and relationships. Even more so today. Tread carefully.

Sophomore year, I learned the true value of hard work thanks to Mrs. Judith Brentz. She taught us many valuable lessons, the most important being “how to use our heads for something more than keeping your ears apart.” I also got my first B… Thanks Mrs. Mac. I also got my second B… Thanks Mrs. Brentz. I also learned how to rid my life of toxic people, and for the first time I began to see the world for what it really was. All the variables, and the factors that can play into what, when, why, and how we think the things we think.

Junior year was the toughest for me. Between band, Round 2 of Brentz for chem 2, Coach Mayes, Work, and family…. It taught me that you can’t do everything you want to, and at the same time get enough sleep. I also learned that it’s healthy to rock the boat every now and then. You��ll either get humbled, humble someone else, or if conditions are just right, a healthy mix of the two.

I also learned probably the most important lesson I’ve learned thus far. This applies to everyone listening, Teachers, families, current students, etc. If you don’t get anything about my longwinded speech, please hear this.

My junior year, I stopped worrying about grades, and I started doing the best I could to learn and retain everything that was being taught to me. Numbers are just Numbers. But what we should understand is that we have the world’s most powerful computer between our ears, and once we start using it, we become unstoppable. There are people that will disagree with what I’m about to say, but stop trying ace tests. Stop trying to do the bare minimum to get by. Learn and retain the information, and those good grades will come. I guarantee it. And class of 2018, it’s not too late to apply to your lives. Whether you’re going to college or not, this is a fundamental principle that can be applied across the board, and I encourage you to do so.

Alright back to jokes.

My senior year I learned lots. Like how you can overcook a TV Dinner and still get food poisoning, ruining your chance for perfect attendance that year. Once I started seeing colleges I started learning how a world that I thought was so big is about a whole lot bigger. I learned that if you fall asleep exactly 47 minutes before the first bell, you’ll wake up and be in a sour mood the entire day. I learned that once people figure out that you’re doing a speech at graduation, everyone wants a shout out. I also learned that you can market shoutouts and get a headstart on paying tuition by selling them for a dollar a piece. I also learned that I should've thought of that sooner and not just the night before I gave the speech. Nobody bought shoutouts. (this was what was originally written, but nick gomez bought a shoutout lol)

But our priority list is strict now. When we have to be where and with who? Some of us are paying bills, we have to worry about finances, college tuition, student loans, our next meal, car payments, gas money, textbooks, toothpaste, medical, dental, water, electrical, internet, phone bills. Oh my God I thought I wanted to be an adult but this isn’t what I meant. Of course, those are all things we should be concerned about.

I for one have my priorities just a little bit different

My biggest worries are still catching the latest episode of spongebob and drinking chocolate milk at the right speed.

So welcome. I hope you enjoy tonight's ceremonies. I’m going to wrap this up with a few thank yous, and we’ll get on with it.

Thank you God, for the many blessings you’ve laid upon my life as well as the blessings you’ve given my friends and family. I know I tick you off sometimes, so, I just ask that you’ll bear with me. I’m still learning

Thank you to my dad. You’ve taught me a lot. The most memorable being the wisdom you passed on from my grandmother in heaven… To never take life too seriously.

Thanks momma. You make me laugh like no one else can. And you get me the way no one else can. You can bet everything you say I’m gonna steal and make it my own. I love you.

Marlee, you’re the only one that gets me emotional anymore. I’m so proud of you. I once described you to a friend as a little packet of sunshine that grew arms, legs, and a face, and now you just walk around spreading happiness and joy. I’m glad you made your own path and didn’t follow in my footsteps. I know you’ll continue to make me proud with everything that you do.

Band - Thank you for giving me a place I belong. I’m odd, and yall were okay with it. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing up here.

Directors - Thanks for making me feel at home. I still cant wait to call yall by yall’s first names here in about an hour.

Teachers and Administrators - Thank you for bearing with me. I know I was a thorn in yall’s side from time to time with scandalous assignments and requests. And Mrs. Reyes and Mrs. Little… I made it.

(With the exception of what’s bolded, the other shoutouts made were ad-libbed and did not have a concrete order. I recall thanking other teachers, friends, and family, and shouting out nick gomez, lauren rodriguez, and trini and bell.)

And last but not least, I’d like to thank Jeff Stein and Richard Ferguson for keeping me on their staff after numerous hiccups on 96.7 FM, 1240 AM, KXOX. Good times, great country. For the job opportunity you’ve given me, you helped ease the financial stress that comes from being a poor high schooler, and a soon to be college student. I cant thank you enough.

And in closing. Heed this warning, everyone listening.

We are strong.

We are persistent.

We are mustangs.

We will go on.

We will succeed.

We will prosper.

We are coming.

We are graduating

We are the Class of 2018.

Thank you, and God Bless.

“Salutations” //Trent(on) Hicks. May 25, 2018

[angelicwritingoflesilva]

Sunday, “Everest’s Loneliest Creature”

!! After more than five hours of writing, two hours of editing, here it is, in all its glory: Everest’s Loneliest Creature! Okay, time for some life lessons:

What I’ve Learned: Journals are so hard to write. ;u; People who write stories with just letters, holy frick, props to you. Seriously, making this entertaining without making it seem like a regular piece was... difficult (not gonna say very because that makes for weaker writing see I definitely know what I’m doing).

Props to more people: historical fiction authors. It was hard enough researching something current. How you all can do it for something that has been gone for like at least 50 years, no clue.

EVEREST TAKES FOREVER TO GET GOING. LIKE, HECK, FORTY DAYS TO REACH CAMP IV? REALLY? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE A SHORT STORY AAAAA! no i’m not bitter

Characters are really fun to develop behind scenes! I thought that I would just throw the friends who came with Mallory to the side, but they were really fun to write about. I think that I gave them, certainly simple, but interesting personalities. I actually think that the characters are believable in this story, which is something that I think I struggle with a lot.

Final Word Count: 8,986

Final Time Spent (writing/editing): 8 hr 14 minutes

Trigger warning: being stranded somewhere, storms, big monsters who’ll love you to death, and sadness :(

Everest’s Loneliest Creature

February 28, 2018

Hello there, journal! I’m going on the climb of my life with my friends, Jasmine and Casey. We’re going back to my family’s birthplace, to a small country housing the most giant of mountains! A small fry taking reign of the largest shark! A teeny mouse housing a fierce African elephant! 

That’s right, we’re going to Nepal to climb the one and only Mount Everest! Just writing that feels unreal, wow!

Casey suggested the idea to me last year, around April or something. We were studying deer behavior in the field when he suddenly said that he wanted to climb Everest one day. I rolled my eyes at him and said that we would never have the money. I make plenty to keep myself afloat, but to afford an entire trip to Everest? 

Besides, I told him, I’m not great at keeping jobs. To do something like climb Everest when I’m not even sure if the research program is going to want me tomorrow would be dumb. He and I laughed about the time that I abandoned my (infinitely and endlessly boring) task of documenting the edible plants in Yellowstone to follow a goose and her goslings, and my subsequent firing. But, it’s fine. I didn’t really like the people who employed me at that time anyway.

After we stopped laughing, he said to think about it. I rolled my eyes, but agreed. Of course, I wasn’t planning on doing anything with the idea, but Casey is really persistent. He kept bothering me about it, and finally, I threw him a scrap and said I’d talk to my parents about it. Now, mind you (or me, I guess?), I don’t need their permission to do it. I just thought that if I were to go climbing on Everest, they would want to know. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if they could give me a little money, right?

So, I came to their house, served them a gourmet dinner of oven-baked dino nuggets, and then told them what I was thinking about Everest. I told them that it would be a good way to connect with great grandpa Hiransh’s roots. 

Mom looked at dad, and the two shared a concerned glance. They told me how dangerous it was to climb Everest, and I’m sitting here like, come. On. I am a field biologist. I work with giant snakes and bears, already have spent lots of time climbing mountains, in very dangerous areas, and you don’t think that I know that Everest is dangerous?

Anyways I just nodded as they warned me, smiling and occasionally saying, yep, yep. Or, yeah, I’ve heard that. Nothing disrespectful, just enough to show them that I had done my research.

Eventually, mom said what I was thinking--expenses. She looked over to my father, her hands wringing in her lap. She said that a permit alone could cost me greatly, but I told her that I had already done research on how much it cost. But, I also said, I would love if you guys could spare a hundred or something so I don’t, like, freeze to death on the mountain because I couldn’t afford a coat. My dad laughed at that, but my mom just bit her lip. I promised to pay them back.

My mom and dad talked, and they finally came to an agreement to give me $500. My dad said, jokingly, that if I didn’t pay them back, that he would get to shave off what remained of my hair. (long story short: I decided to get a pixie cut and dyed the tips of my hair dark green, and I think it looks pretty bad. Casey says it looks good, though, so maybe I’ll keep it like this)

So, I left with an extra $500. It wasn’t much, compared to the monumental expenses of climbing Everest, but it was a start. I had to basically empty my spend account and dump it in my growth account. Who knows, I thought. Maybe by the time I climb Everest, I’ll have a whole extra dollar! (I actually ended up getting about ten dollars! Score!)

I started to train for the expedition. At first, I just worked normally at the gym, and then I started to use a mountain training mask. Basically, it just lowers how much oxygen your body gets, and it gets you ready to breathe the thinner mountain air. I also had to work really hard at my job to work up enough extra money so I could go to Nepal and not be bankrupt by the time I got back. I volunteered for every job, even the extra boring ones, and did my best to stay on track. Gradually, my bank account grew.

My friend, Jasmine, heard about this and decided to jump in. Jasmine is more serious than I am (job wise, at least), and, although she’s only like 20, she’s really smart. Her parents were able to afford insanely great schooling for her, and they chipped in for a lot of our trip. We probably we would have had to delay it another year if they hadn’t helped us so much. She and I get along well since she can kind of reel me in when I’m ready to run off.

So, while I was training, I was slowly buying the equipment I would need. Of course, I got the usual clothing--sweat-wicking underwear, long-sleeved shirt and long pants, fleece jacket, coat, and then a larger, bulkier coat, etc, etc. Pretty boring stuff, if you ask me.

But the coolest thing I bought was this air tank. First off, it is a lot lighter than other air tanks, but it can last a climber much longer, because of an incredibly incredible reason that is so incredible that it might just blow your incredibly uninformed mind. It is split into two compartments. One is filled with oxygen, the other is the air breathed out by the climber. There’s something techy about breathing in opening a valve and then breathing out closing it, so it leads to two different compartments, but I’m not really in that field of science, so what do I know? The air that is breathed out is filtered into the one compartment. There’s this bio paper thing that’s kind of like a plant in which it takes in the CO2 to make oxygen, but I literally have no idea how it works. I think there’s something to do with genetic manipulation, maybe? Who knows.

I’ve worked with it more than any of my other tanks and I love it to bits and pieces. I think it can last up to a week and a few days before the bio paper becomes worn out. After that, it becomes basically just a normal air tank.

So, anyways, we’re taking a plane tomorrow. This is like the only notebook I haven’t written in yet, so I’m taking it along. Luckily, it’s really sturdy. Not exactly my taste in books, since it is butt ugly. It’s from like five years ago, so that doesn’t help either. Well, whatever. It’ll do.

It’s going to take more than an entire day to get to Nepal, but we’re making it! I just finished packing not even like five minutes ago. Wait, just glanced at the clock. This has taken me a lot longer than I thought--forty minutes, actually! Well, I better sign off, if I’m going to catch the five o’clock flight tomorrow morning. Getting up at 3:30, driving out for thirty minutes, going through security, and then boarding. Sounds like fun, right?

See you in the morning!

Mallory Woodruff

March 01, 2018 (well, technically, it’s the second but it still feels like the first sooo)

Casey snores so loudly. I swear, my seat is shaking with the sound of him. I don’t want to wake him up though. If I could manage to fall asleep, I would too. But I’m not a great flyer, so I’d probably wake up and vomit all over myself.

Jasmine isn’t sleeping either. She’s still getting caught up with work. She’s kind of a push-over and takes other people’s unwanted work even when she doesn’t feel like doing it. She says that it’s not because she doesn’t want to stand up to them, it’s because she wants to get a promotion. But, if getting a promotion equals ten hours of work on a plane that has spent forever sputtering its way over eternal turbulence with no overpay, uh, thanks, but no thanks.

I’ve been passing the time by reading about Everest. Of course, lots of the writing is the “exciting” stuff that has happened on Everest, i.e., death, destruction, and the like. Maybe I should stop reading it. It’s interesting, but I guess it’s also kind of morbid for me to be reading it right now? Like, is it giving me bad karma? Does karma work like that? I don’t know.

We’re hitting more turbulence, and I doubt I’ll be able to make any comprehensible sentence in a few minutes. We’re supposed to land in like an hour, and then we take one final flight to Nepal.

Mallory Woodruff

March 03, 2018

Okay, so we’re in Nepal, and it’s warm. I mean, I know it was supposed to be warm, but I wasn’t actually expecting it to be this warm. With Everest so cold, it’s strange to me that, so close to the mountain, it’s warm. Anyways, update time.

So, we landed in Nepal smoothly. It was late, around one o’clock, when we landed. The other flight was supposed to get us to Nepal at ten, but it was delayed due to a storm. Talk about a bummer.

When we landed, I wanted to go out and eat somewhere nice. Casey had wanted to sleep some more, but when he heard about my idea, he instantly wanted to go, too. Jasmine eventually caved in, because, first off, food, and, second off, food.

So, we ate out. It was really nice, and I was so happy to not be eating plane/awful fast food. It was like a miracle, to have delicious spicy food again. I gobbled down my entire plate and then proceeded to wistfully mop up the remains of my dish and lick them off my finger. Casey had all of his, too, but then threw up later since he hadn’t eaten anything in like the past fifteen hours. (note to self: spicy food on an empty stomach is a no go. Learn from Casey’s mistake) Jasmine just ate some rice and had water.

Anyways, we have to take a short plane ride to Lukla tomorrow. We stopped in Kathmandu because it is gorgeous and I insisted on it. I accidentally left my camera at home, so you’ll have to make due with some crappy phone pictures.

The city is amazing, and, the best part, there are forests nearby. Like, national parks and stuff. If I were to move to Nepal, I would definitely come here. It’s really great. Wow, I sound so enthusiastic ending that sentence with a period. Shall I do it some more. Wow. I’m so excited that I’m going to climb Everest. Wow. Okay, I’ll stop now, haha. But seriously, it is beautiful around here!

It’s getting late, so I’m going to sign off. If anything cool happens on the flight, I’ll let you know!

Mallory Woodruff

March 04, 2018

The flight was only around 30 minutes, nothing crazy happened. The landing was terrifying though--the runway is so tiny! I swear, I was gripping Jasmine’s arm so hard that I’m surprised I didn’t break it. But, we’re safe and sound!

Today, we met with our guide. He speaks very limited English, but I’m sure that it won’t be a problem. After all, taking people places usually doesn’t require any words! I’m pretty good at reading expressions anyways, I think. Working with animals all the time has actually helped me learn people’s emotions and what they want to convey really well! It’s surprising, but sometimes I can guess what a person’s going to say even before they open their mouth. It’s a useful skill to have, I think.

We’re going to start our trek to Everest Base Camp today after we stretch for a little bit. I’ll probably write something once we stop.

Mallory Woodruff

March 04, 2018

Hey, for once I kept my word for doing something! For starters, let me talk about the villages.

So, people live on Everest. I don’t know if that’s common knowledge (I didn’t know before I started researching), but there you have it. They live in these small towns, with stone roads and stone houses. Although that sounds bland, they also have these amazing red roofs. The sun shines off of them softly, without the pernicious glare that reflective things back home have.

All our guide had to do was gesture at the village with a smile for us to freak out. Even Jasmine was in awe. There are a few cylindrical structures, with a small roof place on top. Tassels hang from the roof, which is shaped like a triangle but is kind of curvy. There are words written in a foreign language, in yellow-painted blocks. The main body is covered in red paint, and yellow and green designs line the top and bottom of the cylinder. It is just gorgeous!

They also have this line that runs throughout the village. There are faded cloths attached to it, colored in dim red and almost blushing blue shades. They are apparently prayer flags. Our guide told them that it’s not for gods; it’s for love and goodness. The flags apparently are made specifically to fly in the wind, to spread peace and joy. The village people believe it, and, if I’m being honest, watching the lines flicker in the wind, I do too.

We set up tents and are sleeping off the side of the trail. There are little lodges called tea houses, but we passed one, thinking we’d be able to make it to the next, since we were moving faster than expected. We were wrong. So, yeah.

I’m sleeping in Jasmine’s awesome tent (you can unzip parts of the tent for windows! In a tent! I wish my family was rich, then I could have cool tents too!), Casey brought his own tiny one, and our guide obviously has his own. I’ve seen at least six yaks, and we nearly ran into one on the trail. We had to walk around it, and the detour took a good twenty minutes to find a safe path, take it, and then get back to the trail. Definitely worth it, though! What I would give to study those yaks, though…

We have around another week to go before we make it up to base camp. I’ll try to update tomorrow!

Mallory Woodruff

March 09, 2018

Okay, so maybe I forgot about this and by the time I remembered I was too lazy to actually write in it. But! I’m writing now! We’re taking a quick water break and catching our breaths. I’ll catch you up on what’s happened since the fourth.

We’re about a day from base camp. We’ve actually made great time, and the weather has been super cooperative. The landscape has turned from green and gorgeous to pebbly and full of shrubs. It’s still pretty, and there are still prayer flags up here, it’s just not as welcoming as it was lower on the trail. Kind of crazy how different things can be just a little further up.

Remember those tea houses I mentioned? Well, we’ve only had to sleep in tents once since that first night. Our guide wanted us to be comfortable, so we’ve been able to sleep in one basically every night now. To sleep in beds is incredible, even if they are pretty stiff. You can also eat there, and by doing so, I’ve met a few people. Most are just going to base camp, hiking around, and then heading back down the mountain. A few have said that they’re attempting a summit, though! Glad to know that there are other crazies out there :)

Anyways, yesterday was the day that we had to sleep in our tents, and today we will too. The air is crazy thin up here. I am so happy that I trained really hard for this--I don’t think I would be able to make it up to camp otherwise. Our plan is to get to base camp, spend two days hiking, and then climb up to the higher camps.

So much has happened in the past nine days. Reading my old passages feels like they’re from a lifetime ago! It’s crazy; I don’t think time has ever held such meaning for me! Looks like we’re getting ready to move. I promise I will write as soon as we get to base camp.

Mallory Woodruff (why am I signing my name? I know it’s me. Maybe I should stop? Eh, too late now. Conformity!)

March 10, 2018

Haha! I did keep my promise! We’re here at base camp, and there are quite a few other climbers with their tents pitched. Some of them are really friendly, but most of them just want to be left alone as they enjoy the mountains. Our guide is going to accompany us on our first summit attempt, but after that, he’s leaving. (totally not because we couldn’t afford him any longer) He warned us against attempting a summit without a guide, but, although we didn’t tell him, we’re definitely going to do it anyways. Well, at least Casey and I will. Jasmine doesn’t seem too thrilled with the idea of climbing without someone who actually knows what they’re doing.

Anyways, like I said, we’re going to hike around for two days and then start climbing to the second camp. It’s going to take a really long time to get up to Camp IV, which is the camp directly before we attempt a summit. Like, 40 days long. I’ll try to update, but we’re probably going to be pushing pretty hard. :) See you later, I guess.

Mallory Woodruff

March 31, 2018

Halfway there! We just reached Camp II. It’s rough. So far, no need for oxygen tanks. Once we get to Camp IV, we’re going to need them, though. It’s crazy--every day feels incredible. Although, I do miss my bed… and the warm Wyoming sun… and my garden… BUT! It is still incredible to be on Everest. Besides, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ll always be able to sleep, sunbathe, and garden, but I won’t always be able to climb Everest!

Our camp is situated on a bed of rocks. Not exactly the most comfortable, but it’s the least slippery surface out here. There’s also a large ice wall-like thing behind us that keep the wind from, you know, blowing us off of the mountain in our sleep. Despite all its discomforts, it has a killer sunrise. Seriously, the colors tint the mountains in gorgeous shades of oranges and yellows, and the sun pokes his head out between the peaks, as if playing a game of peek-a-boo with me. It’s beautiful.

Sorry I haven’t been able to write recently. Also sorry that this entry is so short. I kind of want to focus on the trip while it’s happening, though. Otherwise, it’ll be over and I’ll have no memories but writing in this old journal! Plus, Jasmine and Casey got into a fight over something dumb. Jasmine is paranoid about work, and Casey told her to relax, Jasmine was like, Oh, shut up. You don’t work at all. Casey called her a rich asshole.

So. Yeah. That’s unfortunate. They haven’t talked to each other in like the past two days, but I’m sure they’ll eventually get over it. Besides, there’s not much else for one to do up here but think and talk. So I bet, in a few more days it’ll blow over.

Mallory Woodruff

April 03, 2018

Yep. They’re back to normal now. Jasmine is still worried about work, but Casey’s cooled off from her jabs. I’m glad it’s over--they were kind of using me as a shield against the other person and it really sucked.

We should get to Camp III in about a week. My brain feels numb from all of the snow, but, holy cow, I am happy that I have sunglasses. It’s blinding sometimes, even with them on! The way the sun smacks off of the snow and into your eyes--it hurts! I’ve avoided sunburns since I’m basically covered from head-to-toe. I am so glad that I have all of this equipment.

Oh! I also decided to take only two of my air tanks with me. The trip up to Everest will take only a day. When our guide learned that I was carrying four tanks, he just laughed and told me to pick one. I decided, hey, why not take two?

One will last me around three days, and the other is the super special one that I was talking about earlier. Really, there is probably no need for the first one, since the special one will probably sustain me just fine. But, you know, just in case. :)

There are only a few puffs in the sky today. It’s gorgeous.

Mallory Woodruff

April 09, 2018

Again, we made good time and arrived at Camp III a whole day early! That leaves us some time to chill, and, for me, to write in my journal!

I’ve been taking some wickedly great pictures. I wish I could print them out right now, but I’ll have to wait until I get back home. Even then, they’re not going to be of the highest quality. But, Jasmine has a camera (as I have learned in recent days), and I have been slowly mooching it off of her. Maybe I can convince her to print out some photos from it when she gets home? Hopefully!

Our guide is really kind and helpful. He’s been sure to keep us safe. If there’s any sign of a storm, he warns us to be careful and sometimes turns us back. Nothing has happened, though… yet! Haha.

Anyways, from here on out, it’s going to be really tough. Things are going to be slow, since the air’s so thin up here, and we’ll have to stop every half hour or so. When we’re not moving, I’m going to be catching my breath. So, you’ll just have to wait until we get there for an update. I’ll make sure to give you all the “deets,” though! I’m sure Jasmine and Casey will have another absolutely awesome fight to talk about.

Mallory Woodruff

April 20, 2018

Finally made it. Christ, I am tired. As expected, Jasmine and Casey are fighting again. The air isn’t the only thing that’s running thin up here.

I think Jasmine has gone into super high-stress mode now that her phone has no service (i.e., no communication to work, i.e., no way to make sure that everything’s going alright, i.e., Jasmine’s hell). She’s even short with me. I try to remind her that we are, after all, climbing Everest, but she won’t listen. To her, it’s probably not even that special. Her family could probably afford a summer home on Everest.

Casey’s been alright. He’s quieter than usual, probably because of the drama with Jasmine and stuff, but at least he’s not yelling at me.

With no one really to talk to, I guess I have some time to write. But I don’t really know what to write about…

We’re going to spend a day resting and then go attempt our first summit, at midnight. Our guide said that it’s best to start the climb at midnight, so we can make it up the mountain before the light dies the next day. He said we should get up there by morning, hopefully.

It’ll probably be our only try, since Jasmine’s head is going to explode if we spend much longer up here. I’m inclined to agree with her. I think all of this time spent together is somehow doing our friendships more harm than good. Once we get back to the States, this should all be undone. Hopefully.

Anyways, I’m probably just going to take more pictures tomorrow. Don’t miss me too much, journal.

Mallory Woodruff

April 21, 2018

Ascent day! I’m really excited! Not even Casey’s and Jasmine’s bickering can make this day go badly. I am determined to make the most of this day/night. In about 30 minutes, we’re going to start climbing. There are a few clouds, and the wind has picked up a little bit, but our guide says it should be alright. He feels bad for how Casey and Jasmine have been bickering and promised us to try his very best to get us to the summit.

I should probably stop writing and help out. I’ll write later hopefully, once we reach the summit! Not much though, I’ll probably just write ‘summit!’ or something, since I’ll want to enjoy the view as much as I can. I’ll make the word very pretty though! Maybe I’ll curve the S specially and make the t wind underneath the whole word--that would look pretty great. :)

Mallory Woodruff

April ???

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

I have no idea what day it is. At least three days have passed. I’ve been out for almost all of it, I have no idea what to do.

Shit.

I’ve lost everyone. I can’t move, either. The storm blew in way too much snow, every step is a risk. All I could do was build a snow den.

I have enough water for a while. I’m asleep (well, passed out), most of the time. I have no idea when rescue will arrive, so I’ve set my air tank to its lowest setting. Christ, I just need to explain everything.

We were climbing up the mountain when the winds began to pick up. It was about an hour after we had started. Our guide, being the careful man that he is, said that we should stop and go back to camp. He even offered us a free day of his labor so we could attempt the summit again.

So, we turned back. But the storm had crept up on us in the dark. The winds picked up, and kicked up the snow. My flashlight could barely scout out a few inches in front of me. It was pitch-black too, so that didn’t help anything either.

The howling gusts overpowered our voices. I screamed for Casey and Jasmine, but I never heard a response. Eventually, I had to assume that either they had run to camp, or they were dead. I built a snow shelter, basically a glorified hole in the side of the mountain.

I collapsed and turned my air tank down to the lowest setting. I think it has a day left in it. That’s what the meter says, anyway.

I am so infinitely happy that I was carrying my extra tank. I also have at least two dozen bottles of water. I have some food, but not enough for more than a few days. At least since I’m barely awake, I don’t need as much to stay alive. My clothing layers are all that’s keeping me warm enough. But I can already feel the beginnings of frostbite. You aren’t meant to stay still when trekking on Everest.

The snowstorm hasn’t stopped yet. It’s crazy how powerful it is. On one of the days I remember, I had to clear out my den, since it was filled with a fine powder of snow. Also, the fact that the storm isn’t over yet poses another risk--rescue. They obviously can’t send a chopper in this weather, so I’m just going to have to hold on as long as I can.

This might be my last entry ever. If so, mom, dad, I love you so much. I doubt that you’ll ever read this message if I die, but on the off chance that you do, know that I love you more than my job, despite what you probably think.

Jasmine, I love you too. Please chill once in a while. It helps all of us, but mostly you.

Casey, never stop being you. Find yourself a nice woman and have the romance you’ve been dreaming about.

I don’t even know why I’m writing. I should stop.

The storm is finally over. My first tank is empty, but it doesn’t matter because I have my second. I attached it without any issues.

I cleared away some snow and laid out my empty water bottles and bags of provisions, and my air tank. Forgive me for polluting, but this is the best way for someone to spot me. In my snow hut, I’m going to be invisible, despite my bright orange coat. But I can’t go out, in case it starts to snow again. Plus, everything is unsteady. If I took one step beyond my garbage signal, I would probably tumble down the mountain.

All I can do is hope, and wait. I’m too tired to continue writing. I have to turn my oxygen back down, just in case. It’ll make me pass out, but I’ll have enough to last me at least a few days. I’ll eventually wake up. I will.

Okay, so let me start this off by saying I have no idea what the hell happened.

I woke up in a strange cave. My stuff is all in the corner, but the floor is dirt and the ceiling is ice. So, if this is the government’s rescue mission, they chose a strange place to put me.

What concerns me is the shape of the cave. I’ve worked in the field for a long time. When an animal lives in an area for a long time, especially dig-outs, the walls become smooth from them constantly rubbing past them. Usually, the area has to be pretty small. Otherwise, their bodies won’t reach everywhere.

This cave is showing the same signs. However, it is a large cave, so the animal that supposedly lives here must be massive, easily eight or nine feet tall. More likely, its height is in the double digits.

At the same time, it just can’t be an animal den. It feels more like a person’s hideaway than a den. There are no bones or discarded branches. No urine smell. I’ve never seen an animal keep its den this clean. Hell, I don’t keep my house this clean.

Finally, there was just a pile of blackberries waiting for me. Fresh. As if picked a few hours ago. Do you know the last time I saw vegetation?

Before we reached base camp. Which is now more than 3,000 meters below me.

What. The. Hell.

Maybe it’s the abominable snowman, but he grows a really nice garden and heats it using his magic. Maybe he’s super civil and shit, and enjoys a strong cup of tea. Brushes his fur every night with a comb elegantly carved from pine wood. He’s probably so nice that he brought me FURTHER UP THE MOUNTAIN.

Oh yeah, not kidding. I’m definitely higher up. I’ve had to turn up my oxygen input, because I will not wake up if I turn it any lower. Not in this temperature. Plus, I don’t want to be surprised again by whatever took me up here. My tank has about a week left in it, I think.

I need to start moving. I’m going to eat the blackberries and then head out. There’s no way that a rescue team will think to search for me higher up on the mountain than where I was when the storm hit. They’ll just assume I’m dead. I’m going to start walking down.

Okay, so I have two things to say.

One, I’m not going to be heading down the mountain for a long time.

Two, I found what brought me up here.

So, I walked out of the strange cave and not even five feet away was a gigantic creature. I have never seen anything like it. It has no fur. Rather, it looks like it only has scales. But there’s no way that it’s a regular reptile. A cold-blooded creature would freeze to death in seconds at this height. Anything would, but especially something that has no internal body temperature.

Its jaw jutted from its face, and massive teeth spike out from them. Angular horns formed from the side of its head and flanked its jaw. Crown-like ice structures (or perhaps more horns) poked out on its head. It looks like that, naturally, it would be white, but it is pale blue on every edge of its body. Almost like it’s suffering from frostbite, but all of its limbs have remained intact.

Its claws are massive, easily closeable and made for crushing. Its shoulders are rough and powerful. It has a tail with a claw-like appendage at the end, the use of which I can only imagine in my nightmares. Its belly is plated with sharp, curving scales that fold over each other to allow easy movement.

Although my biologist’s mind noted all of this in a moment, I was instantly drawn to its eyes. They were the only part of the creature that stuck out from the snow. They were a deep orange, blazing with life. I could see recognition in them. The way it focused on me was not in a normal, animal one. It was like… it knew me. I think it’s intelligent.

I’ve never seen something like it. I have no idea how it’s alive up here. Why hasn’t anyone seen it before? Why haven’t I heard of it?

After I saw it, I didn’t scream and I didn’t run. If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my time on the field is that the best thing you can do during a situation is be calm. I just turned around and walked back into the cave. Every step caused more blood to flow from my head and into my feet. Once I felt the dirt underneath my shoes, I passed out.

And now I’m awake. I’ve checked my tank--I haven’t been out long. Perhaps an hour or so. There are more blackberries on the ground. I have now realized that it put the blackberries there earlier. It’s keeping me alive. But why? Why not just eat me?

That’s another reason why I’m drawing the conclusion that it is intelligent. There is no other way to explain its strange, un-animal-like behavior. I’m going to go out again, but this time, I’m going to try to see what I can learn about it. I don’t think it means me harm. If it does, there’s not much I can do anyway. I’m bringing my journal, in the rare chance that I can get a sketch of it.

Wish me luck. I hope I don’t die.

It’s night now. Let me explain what happened during the eight hours in which I didn’t write anything.

It definitely means me no harm. When I came out again, it did nothing but watch me with those warm sunrise eyes. I approached and, despite my best abilities, I was shaking pretty badly. When I reached it though, all it did was lift its head.

It stared at me, as if drinking in every detail. From the tip of my hat to the toes of my boots, it memorized me. If I had any doubts about its intelligence, I forgot them then.

I felt like I was on the field again, but the roles were reversed. Suddenly, I was the animal being studied under the watchful eye of a giant. It was terrifying but thrilling. In a strange way, I felt as if I was being cared for by it, like its recognition was something to be treasured.

As the day wore on, our “friendship” grew. It showed me to its berry storage. There were dozens of fresh branches. How it brought them up the mountain, I don’t know. 

It also allowed me to sketch it. I have a few pages filled with drawings and rough measurements. My phone is dead, though, and Casey was the one handling the solar panels and extra batteries. So, no photos.

It is way more intelligent than I previously thought. I talked to it out of habit (and partially out of loneliness), and it looked at me with… interest. Understanding. Like it was learning the English language as I was speaking to it. I would kill to get a brain scan of this creature.

In less than three hours, I have been able to communicate it using simple hand gestures. It picked up on them quickly, far more quickly than even a moldable-brained toddler could. However, it doesn’t just know the hand signs, it understands them too.

We watched the sunset together. I sat with it near a cliff face. It stared at the sun as it dipped behind the tree line far below, its slitted pupils dilating and growing as they adjusted to the changing light. I watched the sunset by looking at the reflection of it on the creature’s eyes. It never looked at me once, entranced by the beautiful colors. Occasionally, it would close its eyes in a manner that I can only describe as longing. It would tilt back its head and breathe in deeply, its nostrils flaring, as if marking this moment in time, a sweet memory to savor in dark times. I understand the feeling.

When it was dark, the creature stood. Stretching, it motioned at me to move. We returned to the den, and there was just enough room for the both of us. I turned on my flashlight and tried to communicate more with the creature using hand signals. It couldn’t reply well, but it was obvious that it understood me.

I motioned at myself and held up one finger. Then, I gradually began to add more to my hand, until I had all five fingers up. Then I pointed down the mountain. I gestured at it and raised one finger, tilting my head inquisitively. The question was clear: where is your family?

The beast didn’t do anything for a second, silently staring at my finger, single among the other folded fingers. It closed its eyes and laid its head on the ground. Confused, I craned my neck to see why it had ignored me. A small tear leaked out of its closed eye, instantly crystallizing on its cheek. I turned away, my heart thudding painfully.

There are none left of its kind.

Is that why it took me? How long has it been alone? I think it’s lonely, really lonely. Maybe that’s why it hasn’t killed me yet.

…

I haven’t thought about escape much. Well, until now I suppose. This creature… whatever it may be, it is the most interesting thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t think about Jasmine or Casey. I have to focus on what’s going on in front of me. If they are dead, my tears will not help, and if they aren’t, then I have no reason to cry.

I’m going to sleep now.

Today was wonderful. The creature gave me more berries to eat. Although they are getting old (and are quite frostbitten), they still are tastier than the pre-packaged food I’ve been living off of for the past few weeks.

I’ve managed on my water well. I have to be careful, though. It’s cold enough up here that any dribbles will freeze. I don’t think it’s cold enough to freeze my mouth, but I’m going to be careful, just in case. I think if I drink about two bottles per day, I could live up here for about a week.

I have started calling the creature Hiransh. I don’t know many Nepali names, and, plus, I think my great grandfather’s fits him perfectly. Hiransh doesn’t seem to need food or water. Of course, he must eat and drink at some time; all creatures must. I believe that he is a predominantly hibernal animal. Almost like mountain goats, I think he spends most of his life on the mountains, coming down occasionally to eat, but, unlike goats, spends lots of his time sleeping. It makes the most sense to me.

His tail is the strongest part of his body, that much I have learned. Four large claws sprout out of the end of it, and, as he once allowed me to inspect it, I have discovered that, inside the claws, it is covered with tiny, hook-like bones. They curl inwards to the center of the tail. 

Here is my theory: Using his tail for balance, he climbs up and down the mountains every few months to get food. His tail is used almost like a fifth leg. He relies on it to grasp surfaces as he moves along the terrain, and, on occasion, to support himself as he climbs directly upwards. Despite his bulky build, he has shown himself to be fluid of movement. I would ask him if I’m correct, but he’s been icy since my question about his family. Pun definitely intended.

Anyways, Hiransh has kept me safe. He can’t keep me warm (he is cold-blooded, as I have found out. Still no clue how his body can deal with that), but he does block most of the wind with his gigantic body. I think he has come to see me as almost a hatchling of his own. With no one else around, it seems perfectly natural for him to do that.

He showed me a new den that he has been building. It is much bigger than his old one. He sat at the entrance, staring after me with a pleased expression in his eyes as I explored his cave. I have noticed over time that he’s meticulously neat--no piles of snow clutter the inside of the cave, no claw marks gouge the carefully patted-down floor, and branches from the berries are stacked in the corner.

I wonder how many caves he’s built. On top of that, I wonder how long he’s been alive. I would bet he has been around for quite a long time. He has an ancient, all-knowing air to him. Maybe that’s romanticizing things a little bit, haha.

I have to think of him as less as a subject to be studied, and more of as a friend. Perhaps it is because I am alone up here, but I like to think that, in any circumstance, Hiransh and I would get along well.

I almost wish I could stay up here forever. Hiransh is the discovery of a lifetime. 

Perhaps my mom was right. Maybe I do love my job more than my friends and family.

Spent three days without writing anything. Very sorry! I have been really busy--will tell you more about it tomorrow!

So, I’m heading to bed now. Let me tell you what’s happened over the past few days. So, the first out of the four that I have to talk about. Hiransh worked on his den. I couldn’t do much, but I helped pack in the walls, so they were more structurally sound. He was appreciative of my work and grumbled a low thanks in his chest. It made me feel warm inside.

We worked well together, with him doing the moving and me doing the sculpting. He was doing work that would’ve taken me weeks, and I was doing work that he would have to rely on time to accomplish for him.

By the end of the first day, the den was mostly done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much larger than his last home. Instead of his back scraping the roof, he would have to stand on his hind legs to brush it with his head. I’m serious when I said it was big!

We moved my stuff to the new den. I kind of just slung it in the corner, and plopped down. Hiransh shuffled around before coming to sit beside me. When I turned to look at what he did, I saw that my backpack and all the other things that I was carrying were neatly reorganized.

He and I are more different than two creatures could be. He’s in his comfort zone up here; that much is obvious. I’m not… but that has been made quite clear by recent events, right? He’s also meticulously neat for an animal. He rarely has a scale out of place, where, here I am, sometimes not able to remember which way is left and which way is right.

But, we do make quite a pair.

So, after that day, he let me ride him. Yeah, you heard that right. I rode this snow creature. It was terrifying, and he didn’t go faster than a trot, but it was incredible. I was so high up, and I felt almost connected to him through the roll of his muscles. I never stopped squeezing my arms around his neck for dear life, though.

He showed me how he hunted. It’s something that I’ve been wondering about. Surely a creature of his stature couldn’t survive on berries alone. He demonstrated with a tiny branch that has already been stripped of its blackberries. So, he buries himself quickly underneath the snow and, if needed, into the dirt. Then, he covers himself with the snow and waits for something to walk over him. When it does, he bursts out of the snow and catches the creature in his jaws.

Let me tell you, seeing this massive snow lizard erupt out of the snow just to “kill” a twig the length of my forearm is actually the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

We watched the sunset together, again. This time, I didn’t stare at him, though. I just looked ahead.

Yesterday, we just hung out in the snow. He and I dug random snow pits. Of course, his were always bigger. But mine were more elaborate, if I do say so myself. I love the idea of some random climber stumbling upon them and thinking that there are aliens on Everest making weird snow shrines. Hehe, but still not as funny as Hiransh killing a stick.

Today, he took me to where he finds his berries. It’s actually not that far down the mountain, surprisingly. If the gigantic claw marks in the wall have anything to say, I think that he actually planted it himself.

He has dug out a wide pit for the berries, down to the rock of the mountain, and filled the hole with soil. On top of the soil, he put dark black rocks, which is something I never would’ve thought of in a million years. It’s genius that he’s using colors to keep the berries warm. He lays thin layers of snow on top of the rocks, which melt and water the plants. Everything he does just makes me think that he’s that much smarter than I thought before.

I also sketched more pictures of him. I’m always learning something new about him. It seems that there is no end to his secrets. If only I had access to better lab equipment, I might be able to run some actual tests…

Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, I’m tired. Tomorrow, we’re planning on some more snow fun! Maybe I can teach him how to make a snowman. Doubtful, with those big, clumsy claws of his, but I can try. :)

I’m back at base camp.

Only a day has passed.

I’ve never felt so hollow before.

May 13th, 2018

I think I can talk about this now. I’m sitting in a hotel room right now. Casey has finally left me alone. Tomorrow I’m leaving for the States. Goodbye, Nepal. Goodbye, Hiransh.

Let me explain what happened.

I woke up in the middle of the night. Coughing. It was so bad, I had to breathe in every five seconds, but I never had enough air. I was sick multiple times, all over myself. Hiransh woke up as well, his orange eyes snapping open instantly. I was grasping at my throat, trying to remove the empty air tank’s mask. Hiransh understood what I was trying to do and slashed off the mask with his claws. In his terrified rush, he left a deep cut on my cheek. Despite the mask being taken off, I was coughing and unable to breathe.

Finally, Hiransh seemed to come to a decision. He carefully scooped me up in his jaws. Strangely enough, the only teeth that he has are outside of his mouth, so instead of being impaled the moment he picked me up, I was just bounced along inside.

He made it down the mountain in record time. I passed in and out of consciousness. Only the splash of snow on my face kept me from slipping away. He would bound, bound, bound, skid to a stop, kick up snow, and then bound, bound, bound again. It was jarring.

Finally, we were far enough down the mountain that I could breathe. I took in the air in gasps, planting my hands on the side of Hiransh’s face. Once he realized that it wasn’t a fit for air, he let me from his jaws. Pebbly earth met my boots.

I held Hiransh’s massive head in my hands, feeling the rough scratch of his scales against my skin. A tear slipped down his face, but this time it did not turn to ice.

“Hiransh,” I whispered. I realized he wouldn’t understand me, so I tried to sign to him that I was heartbroken.

I told him that I couldn’t breathe up there. I was never going to be able to live with him. His shoulders slumped, and his ice-blue eyelids closed over his inner fire. I’m so sorry Hiransh. He’s alone. No one will ever be able to stay with him.

I told him that I would come back. I promised that I would meet him by the berry patch in the summer. I vowed to return.

I will return.

Hiransh, please do not give up.

2 Feb. ‘81

This took hours to find. My old bones made it such a pain, too. But, I have to, before I fade away.

Since I suppose that this journal will be given away, I must explain a few things. Like what happened with the rest of my life.

Well, I just kept living it. People discovered me where Hiransh had left me. I was stumbling down the mountain, crying and without a backpack, my phone, or anything really. All I had was the journal that was in my hands when I fell asleep. Luckily, the winds blew snow over Hiransh’s tracks. He was never discovered.

Of course, people were curious. I managed to hide the journal in time, but the press bothered me for days afterwards, when all I wanted to do was mourn the loss of a friend.

Casey and Jasmine were both alive. Jasmine had severe frostbite on her ears, and on three of her left fingers. Her pinkie had to be amputated. But, otherwise, they were miraculously unharmed. Our reunion was tearful. I don’t remember much but a blur. It seems as if all of my memories are like that nowadays.

I continued with my job when I got home and never told anyone about Hiransh. I hid the journal--I knew I should’ve burned it, but I feared that, if I did, I would lose my memories of Hiransh, convince myself that they were just a dream. So, I held onto it, quietly.

I went to therapy, obviously. Eventually, I stopped having panic attacks and got over my chronic sadness. I was able to stop when I was 35, 12 years after the incident. I was never the same, though. Never as excitable, never as fun-loving, never as... naive.

I never forgot Hiransh, like I had feared I would. The place he scratched me when trying to save my life has turned into a scar. I think of him almost every day, wondering how he is doing alone. It breaks my heart to have the terrible knowledge of him, alone on the mountain. Unless someone out there discovered him and is as good at keeping a secret as I am, I doubt he’s been found.

Casey and I married when we were 38. I know, a little later than most, but we wanted to be ready. We adopted a Nepali girl, four years old. We named her Lily. We had our first grandchild when we were 68. A boy named Thomas.

And then there’s you, sweet child. You were always my favorite grandkid (don’t tell your brother that). You loved my work so much. And so I will pass it onto you.

I have spent a lifetime tracking down the berry patch that Hiransh showed me all of those years ago. I have attached the coordinates, as accurate as I could make them, to this journal. You may choose not to believe me, but I implore you, please, please, please, travel to Everest, visit the berry patch, and you will find that I am telling the truth. Grandma Mallory was never one for dementia, right? Don’t be stupid, either. Tell people you are going, but don’t bring them with you. Take a guide, but leave them before the summit. Don’t tell anyone about him, even if you choose to not believe me. Go during summer, in April. He will be waiting.

I know he will.

I love you. Remember me when I’m gone.

Mallory Woodruff.

*wipes sweat off of forehead*

Finally done! If I ever want to revisit this story, it would be quite fun to write about Mallory’s grandkid, and maybe about her grandkid, and so on and so forth. Maybe it would gradually be integrated into the Woodruff family, a treasured family secret, perhaps? But, that’s a story for another time. :) Thanks for reading!

- L.E. Silva

[eminperu]

Dreams Money Can Buy: The economics of a pay-as-you-go vagabond lifestyle

Since my last Facebook post about another jaunt across the world, several people have reached out to me asking the same question: how do I “fund my lifestyle” (copyright Emma). It dawned on me that A) lots of folks are looking to travel the world but B) are not sure how to do that realistically and responsibly. As an additional obstacle, people—even the vagabonds—often get weird and cagey when asked about their finances. Luckily, I’m 100% comfortable letting you know that I’m pretty poor and I’m still living what Cardi B and Chance might classify as close to—if not my best—life. I’m happy to share my strategies for the nomad life as someone who has never considered planning a strong suit and whose butt gets all itchy at the sound of the word “budget.”  This is definitely not a how-to, but a how-I-do guide that hopefully can offer one perspective to those who, like me, dream of being homeless and financially insecure—I mean, wanderlusters.  Naturally, each point is organized by subcategory titles borrowed from legendary and timeless songwriter Aubrey Graham. Started from the Bottom (now we’re still near the bottom)

Okay, not exactly the bottom, but not far off. I did have some savings before I started traveling, and I think that cushion was pretty important for my peace of mind/not dying famished in the streets. I set a (admittedly pretty arbitrary) bottom line that I would be comfortable—not thrilled, but not fully catatonic—to have when I returned to a more “traditional lifestyle.” I put that amount in a do-not-touch savings account. Luckily, I haven’t really had to dip into this kitty very many times. Though, again, I’m admittedly no financial wizard, I would estimate over the course of the last year I’ve netted about -$2,000. To me, this year, the amount of time I spent not working, and the amazing experiences I have had were worth significantly more than that figure.

God’s Plan/Controlla

You can plan your travels in advance to varying degrees, but it’s crucial to be honest with yourself about how much uncertainty you can stomach without anxiety sucking all the joy out of the cool stuff you’re doing. I’ve had people tell me, “Oh, it’s so crazy how you can just hop on a plane and not know where you’re going next. You’re flying by the seat of your pants!” Two things: 1) I hate pants. 2) More often than not, I do plan at least my immediate next move in advance. This isn’t so much a due my discomfort with uncertainty, but rather how frustrated I get when I’m forced to spend substantially more money on a ticket/room because I couldn’t commit in time. As a general rule, I plan international travel at least a month in advance and try to get things settled for big within-country trips a week before I leave. I make sure to search airline sites directly, especially for within country travel, and I don’t hesitate to call booking sites instead of reserving online to see if if they can cut me a deal—they’re out here looking for that commission. That being said, the best practice is to seek advice from people who have visited or, better yet, live in your destination. Not only can they steer you towards the right locations/companies/etc., they can also advise you when it might be more economical to book real time in-person as opposed to beforehand online (this happens quite a bit, especially in less-developed countries. Trip Advisor is not always your friend, yo.). Plan as much in advance as you need to in order to feel comfortable and excited, not overwhelmed and anxious, for your trip.

Hold On, We’re Going Home

Building off my last point, for me, having a space to unpack my borderline-hoarder amount of clothes and plug in my electric toothbrush is crucial to my mental health. Who doesn’t love a nest? Though a lot of people move intermittently between destinations, I was pretty settled in Lima. Before flying in, we booked a month in an Airbnb. I easily found a three month room to rent on Facebook/Craigslist, and used the same method to find two of my jobs (oh, sidebar—look for and join ALL online Expat groups as soon as you get to a country. Go to a language exchange and ignore the creepy older dudes who try to get you to “teach them English” and look for other expats who are probably new to the area, too). I also knew I was setting up base camp somewhere with an incredibly low cost of living, and that was intentional (Meygan’s intention, not mine, but still).

Mob Ties

This will be a small section, as it deviates from the financial focus of this piece, but I think it’s important: be proactive ASAP in making friends. It’s so, so easy in any city with a large expat population (again, join the Facebook groups).  Expats are prone to be quite outgoing, likely share your interests, and probably have lower friend standards than you’re used to! Living abroad is like college, and all the other expats are your new floormates. There will definitely be some weridos, but you’ll sift through them and find the gems. Plus, traveling with friends makes things cheaper, so this section is totally relevant. (Nailed it.)

Hotline Bling

This one is straightforward: Make sure your phone is internationally unlocked and get a prepaid SIM card immediately in each country you go to. I’ve never needed to pay more than $20 a month for talk/text/data (you’ll only really need data) and it is PLENTY (how many of you are looking at your Verizon bill and fuming right now?). International plans don’t make sense in the long run and scrambling from Starbucks to random hostels for WiFi is not a good look.

Nice for What

One of the benefits of living abroad is that as soon as I moved, people started hitting me up to visit and/or meet them places. I’ve had the opportunity to visit magnificent destinations with magnificent friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen in years. If, like me, you’re overwhelming popular and well-liked, you have to be realistic and honest about where you can and cannot travel. Whilst on a budget and trying to function in day-to-day life, sometimes merging plans with friends looking to vacation is just not feasible. Compromising is great; it’s also valuable to let the homies know that this isn’t just a trip for you, it’s your lifestyle (did you just throw up a little bit as you read that? Me too. Sorry). I got super lucky and my friends who came and visited me in my more permanent location—Peru—didn’t force me to go to Machu Picchu 96 times! Every country has a bunch of cool stuff to do, and they were more than happy to meet in Colombia, hop on a jungle excursion, or otherwise with plan something that was in my budget/I hadn’t already done.

In addition to being realistic with my budget and with other people, I had to be realistic with myself, which involved some reprioritizing. I haven’t really bought clothes in the last year. I didn’t make my usual music festival rounds. I wasn’t planning to see my family for Christmas. My shoes, which have amassed an innumerable amount of miles, are essentially all falling apart. Time and time again, I chose experiences over things and I couldn’t be happier with that decision.

Nonstop

Having a job, regardless of the wage, always makes me feel better about spending money. You can make money in a variety of ways, but here’s a hot tip: TEACH ENGLISH ONLINE. I AM NOT KIDDING YOU I WOULD NOT HAVE DONE WHAT I DID THIS LAST YEAR WITHOUT IT. There are a myriad of companies (I’m with VIPKID—lemme talk to you about it and get some $$ for helping you apply) that allow you to set your own schedule and teach online from anywhere with a strong WiFi connection. I taught every weekday in Peru from 6:30 am to 9:00am (and an occasional weekend evening) and was done with my workday by 9:15 in the morning. I was also able to teach when I came back to Kansas, when I was home in California, and when I was traveling, Plus, I get money for referring you desperate plebs.

Let me tell you why VIPKID is infinitely better than getting an in-person job (even teaching English) abroad:

The hours and location are 100% flexible. I can open my schedule weeks in advance or the night before, and I can teach fifteen classes in a row or one single class.

There is no lesson planning. Prepping for teaching is an evil succubus that lures you in and steals your time and also several parts of your soul. The VIPKID platform offers ready-to-use lessons that have a universal structure. I don’t even glance at them before I start teaching. It’s the most low-maintenance, easiest form of instruction I’ve ever been involved with.

You don’t need to worry about getting a work visa. For all the work I did in Peru, I was paid cash under the table, as getting a carnet de extranjera (similar to a green card) is time-consuming, expensive, and difficult. I'm not 100% sure, but I feel like this is the case in most countries.

Yes, I make $20-$25 an hour, which can make you feel no ways (real Drake fans will catch that Easter egg), especially if you’ve been making a steady salary in a a place like New York or SF (let’s not get into it here, but all the more reason to advocate for not paying/treating our teachers like trash). However, it’s consistent money, I can do it anywhere, and $20 goes real far in most places outside the U.S.

The Catch Up

That being said, the side-hustle is EVERYTHING. Proofreading, translating, tutoring, working remotely, waitressing, bartending—anything that doesn’t require a lengthy application process and set hours is ideal. While I was back in the States, I very quickly and easily got a temp job working in my mom’s radiologic imaging office; I got to experience an entirely different line of work and gossip and eat donuts with the girls in the front. I absolutely loved it.

Apps like Grabr or housesitting apps are also excellent ways to make money doing stuff you’re already planning to do. Grabr allows travelers to sign up to bring things to people in their destination country that take too long or are too expensive to ship from their country of origin. This utilized two of my strongest skills—ordering items from Amazon and packing a checked bag weighing exactly fifty pounds. On my trip from the U.S. to Peru, I made over $300. Did I bring a kitchen scale and finely ground white electrolyte powders through South American customs? Yes! Did I assume I’d be going to Peruvian jail? Maybe! Honestly, I was more concerned about the giant car part leaking oil that I brought through TSA in Kansas City (thought about leaving a “This is not a bomb note”—decided against it). The point is: it might have taken a little time, some research, and a bit of aplomb to find opportunities like this, but luckily I had all those things in spades. Disclaimer: Use your judgment. Don’t do weird stuff.

Also, in all honesty, got a pretty cute tax refund this year, seeing as I made a significantly larger sum of money in the half of the year when I was full-time employee in California than when I was a part-time degenerate in Peru.

All Me

As resourceful and savvy as I’m feeling after writing this, I have to come clean. This might be a bit of a bummer for those fiercely independent amongst you: I did not even come close to doing this without a ton of help from my ridiculous circle of incredibly generous family and friends (HAHA GOTCHA, IT WAS NOT ALL ME. SEE? SEE WHAT I DID?) My list of people to thank would surely earn me the wrap-it-up music at the Oscars, but I’ll try anyway: My parents helped my broke ass get home so I wouldn’t be alone for Christmas. My friends from all across the world and all phases of life let me crash with them for weeks at a time (and gave me cute clothes that “looked a little weird on them,” made me banana flaxseed pancakes, and did my laundry). My brother and his smokeshow wife bought me flights and let me move into their giant British mansion to be their nanny (they don’t have kids). My saint of a mother literally gave up her bed and shared her tiny apartment with me, advocated for me to get a job that meant her doubling her workload, and let me eat all her food while standing at the refrigerator like a teenage boy. People have given me advice, contacts, hotel points, and miles. Gratitude will forever be the brush with which the memory of this year was painted.

All in all, I’ve had an overwhelmingly positive, life-changing experience with the joys far outweighing the stresses. It’s not hard to do, and I hope this very Emily-specific example can be of some help to you. Remember, you too can shirk all your responsibilities and run away to a foreign country! Even if you’re 25 sitting on 25… cents.

P.S. If you liked this post, please send me shoes.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #453

Top Ten Films That Make Me Happy

So every once in a while I do one of these things and the world ends up moving so fast that between me having an idea, writing the list, and it going up on Tumblr of a weekend, the plates have shifted and it doesn’t seem quite as relevant anymore. I remember listing ten films I wanted to see because cinemas were reopening; I think only two of them ever actually saw the inside of a Cineworld. And so we have this week; when I came up with the idea for the list, I thought either we’d all be in a celebratory mood, or else need commiserating. And at the time of writing, it’s looking – thankfully – that we’ll have enough reasons to be cheerful to be getting along with. But who knows? If you’re reading this on Saturday there may be a new president, or maybe the old one’s bombed China.

It’s a funny old world.

Anyway, like I said, my initial thought was that, in this time of darkness, we might need a little light; that everything is rather remorselessly grim and difficult, and we could do with a bit of cheering up. We’re all back in lockdown, the idiots are in charge, and Halo Infinite was delayed till next year. Lots of crap is going on. And, yes, fingers crossed, maybe we will be celebrating the Idiot in Chief getting booted out of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue before too long, but life has taught me never to count chickens, and you can always do with a little restorative nip in your pocket, just in case. And what is a good curative for the blues? A fillum.

Yes, feel-good films. Cheerer-uppers. Movies that make ya happy. There are lots of them, of course; it’s practically a genre. But one man’s meat is another man’s poison, and one man’s (end of) It’s a Wonderful Life is another man’s (middle section of) It’s a Wonderful Life. Which is to say that what makes me happy might not make you happy. I found this when doing a bit of research for this list; as is common, I often have quite a few ideas when I’ve thought of a topic, but I like to Google it (or Bing it, as I get Microsoft Reward Points and I’m saving up for a few months of Game Pass), just in case there’s some obvious film that has escaped my mental grasp. In this case what I found was some of the films that people consider to be uplifting are downright weird – Forrest Gump? Really? And a lot of truly mediocre romcoms seem to float people’s happiness boats, from the wildly uneven Love Actually to the tepid You’ve Got Mail to the overlong and overly twee The Holiday (a film which I hated on first watch but which has grown on me, Stockholm-style, as I’ve seen it over and over again every year). And some people even list stuff like Lord of the Rings or Star Wars or Pirates of the Caribbean; good movies, true, but are they feel-good? I mean, loads of people die in all those films; in one of them an actual planet blows up. I know we like zombie monkeys and Harrison Ford in a waistcoat, but they’re not really the most relentlessly cheerful films, are they?

Or are they? I mean, when I got right down to it, there were quite a few blowy-uppy pictures that are genuine comfort blankets for me (Air Force One, which I watched so much at one point that I used to fall comfortably asleep to it when I was on my own, nearly made the cut). So, y’know, who am I to judge? I think what makes us feel comfortable, happy, and upbeat can be wildly diverse and erratic, even within our own taste window.

And really that’s what I was after here; comfort movies, films that uplift or inspire or just, well, make you smile. Not just because we’ve blown up the Death Star or because Tom Hanks has snogged Meg Ryan again. But there’s something about the film, from its story to its characters to its composition, that is continuously joyful.

So whether we’re lifting a glass in celebration or drowning our sorrows with an armful of Stella, here’s to the films that make us feel better. Chin up, folks. It might never happen!

Paddington 2 (2017): what is it about this film that evokes such joy? I’d say everything, from the script to the performances to the music to the shot choices. The bad guy is funny, the dire situations rarely threatening, almost everyone is nice, and it ends with a redemption and a musical number. Beyond all that, though, Paddington himself is such a supernova of absolute goodness that you can’t help but feel optimistic just by watching him. It’s perfect, really.

WALL-E (2008): a film that starts with the end of the world but it gets better. It’s a cinematic joy, the virtually dialogue-free opening giving us dystopic vistas and a real sense of mood. But it’s WALL-E himself who brings the real feels, a mechanical wonder who does nothing but make other people happy and improve their lives almost by accident. he saves the human race and the planet simply by trying to be nice to one person at a time, and that’s a hell of an optimistic message.

When Harry Met Sally (1989): far sarkier than the other two films, and obviously a bit more, well, grown up (we all know what you must not do with Mister Zero), this is nonetheless a beautiful film. A slow-burning romance between two friendly, funny people, witticisms flying from every mouth, some absolute, genuine emotional stakes that you really, really care about, and the single most romantic ending a film has ever had.

Groundhog Day (1993): let’s face it, it’s the best film either Harold Ramis or Bill Murray has ever been involved in, and I bought every issue of Transformers/Ghostbusters. A tour-de-force of cynicism and sourness from Murray, but he gradually unravels (in more ways than one), becoming a happier and better person. It’s funny, it’s sweet, and the complexities of its chronally-displaced plot means there’s loads you can unpick. Masterfully written, directed, and edited, and that’s some of its joy, too.

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994): the Coens have, obviously, made a lot of very good films, and not all of them are darkly serious (No Country) or darkly hilarious (Fargo); they also have lighter fare, but none as floaty-light or so supremely joyous as Hudsucker. The script is pure screwball but also a precisely-honed, fast-spoken, Golden Age charm; the performances are all fantastic (we also get the best Lois Lane, Perry White, and Steve Lombard scene ever shot, and it’s not even in a Superman film). Look, it’s hilarious, it’s arch, it’s fantastically put-together, and it’s actually, genuinely hopeful and optimistic. It’s my favourite Coen Brothers movie.

Singin' in the Rain (1952): I’ve always got a lot of love for movies about Old Hollywood, but Singin’ isn’t really some kind of backstage satire; really, it’s a story about love, honesty, and creativity – movies are just the backdrop. But it’s the songs. Let’s face it, it’s the songs – and dances. These are some of the most joyous songs put to celluloid, and Gene Kelly absolutely attacks them from all sides. But I’ve gotta say, my favourite number is probably Donald O’Connor running up the walls in “Make ‘Em Laugh”.

Strictly Ballroom (1992): there’s a personal touch to this one, as my wife and I chose “Love is in the Air” for the first dance at our wedding. But there’s more to this film than memories of me being a shit dancer: it’s a supremely romantic film, possibly the most enjoyable straight-up romance from Luhrmann’s Red Curtain trilogy (spoiler alert: no one dies). A great underdog tale, two kids taking down a corrupt system, a story of the unlikely girl nabbing the hot guy; it’s timeless, it’s well-told, and its unusual setting (ballroom dancing competitions in Australia) gives it an extra kick.

My Neighbour Totoro (1988):  Ghibli films often present us with a nicer, fairer world, where even the nasty monsters are there to teach us important lessons, or at the very least plucky kids can do the right thing and save the day. Totoro is different in that there isn’t an antagonist; there isn't much drama or, really, plot. It’s two very small girls dealing with a complex life situation, and also a giant bear-monster thing with a massive mouth who could be scary but is actually really nice and magical and saves the day because the girls deserve it, and also there’s a hollow cat that’s also a bus. It’s fantastic, but it’s also so nice, just a load of nice people and nice monsters being nice to each other, and if – let's say – the elements can be good, can't we be good too?

Die Hard (1988): yeah, okay, contradiction corner; a supremely violent and sweary action movie that makes me “feel good”. Is it the bit where he throws a bomb down a lift? Or shoots a dude from beneath a table? Or when Ellis dies? Honestly, yeah, there’s a little bit of that; the action stuff is so well-done. But it’s also a film with a ton of heart and soul and wit and life. John McClane is a masterpiece of character design, a gruff cop with a heart of gold, a capable action hero but also a working-class schmo who just wants to try to get back with his wife. He struggles and bleeds and doubts himself; he’s not a superman. The villains are incredible, with great lines and great designs and a great scheme; you care about these guys, they’re interesting. There's a part of you that wants Gruber to get away as much as you want John and Holly to get back together. It's a Christmas movie, all about family and forgiveness, and It's just plain fun, uncynical and sentimental and really, really funny. It's the best action movie ever made, I watch it every year, and it brings me great, great comfort and joy.

The American President (1995): oh no, too soon! But I couldn’t include The West Wing in a list of feel-good films, so this is the next best thing; smart public servants being smart, as well as moral and just, wearing their immense power with the right amount of humility. Sorkin really believes in the majesty of the office of President, and the founding myth of America and what that means, and he makes you believe in it too. His dialogue is, of course, exceptional, witty bon-mots and one-liners, but the love story is great too; two people finding each other later in life and trying to make it work despite everything. So it’s a great film, a funny film, a sweet film, a romantic film, but also kinda important; a film that makes you aspire to higher ideals, that gives you hope and confidence in the institutions of government.  I suppose it is a fantasy – God knows, the last four years have shaken these institutions to their very core, over here as much as in the States – but The American President can make you believe again.

There you go. Ten films that just make me happy if I'm down, or cement that happiness if I'm already in the mood. All of these films, you’ll notice, are also very, very good; not some kind of “guilty pleasure” (if such a thing exists; don’t pleasure-shame!). Funnily enough, it’s the quality of the films that adds to their charm; I appreciate the craft as much as the plot or theme or performances.  Like when I watch American President (or, more accurately, The West Wing) and I just enjoy seeing people good at their jobs be good at their jobs, then watching a well-made film makes me happy because I like seeing people good at their jobs be good at their jobs.

Anyway. Tear yourself away from Twitter, stop refreshing fivethirtyeight.com, pour yourself a drink, and – hopefully – make yourself happy this weekend. Unless you voted for Trump, then you can get in a bin.

[cedarrrun]

As fall arrives and COVID-19 numbers rise, wellness practitioners across the country are sharing their healing modalities to help us face our fear of death. We spoke with John Christian Phifer, a death doula, about how the novel coronavirus is changing our relationship with life.

Before COVID-19, funeral and burial arrangements were fairly straightforward—a hands-on process handled by an afterlife professional. But as we watched families quarantined at home with the bodies of their loved ones and New York streets fill up with makeshift morgues due to hospital overcrowding, we couldn’t help but ponder the truth of own mortality, dramatically shifting how we perceive—and care for—the dead virtually overnight.

While the novel coronavirus pandemic rages on, Americans are left with no choice but to prepare for what we will face in the coming weeks, months, and, possibly, years. “I think that people are highly sensitive to the topic of death right now, becoming more acutely aware of how precious life can be and how fragile it is,” says John Christian Phifer, a Nashville-based certified end-of-life doula and the executive director of Larkspur Conservation, a nature preserve in Tennessee’s Highland Rim promoting the revival of traditional, natural burial practices in designated areas.

Phifer’s work as a death midwife, or death doula, involves acting as a bridge between the person dying, family members, primary care physicians, the funeral director—everyone involved in the care of the dying individual. “We convey all of the information to the living family and those important individuals, such as creating an end-of-life plan, just like you would for a newborn. We create a death plan for the last three months so It makes death a much more hands-on and intimate process between the individual and their loved ones,” Phifer explained.

Rituals Around Death

As public health concerns postpone funerals for weeks or even months, how we traditionally say goodbye to our loved ones through burial and funeral gatherings has invited us to rethink how we honor the dead. Just because a physical gathering is not an option right now, doesn’t mean you can’t be in ritual and ceremony after a loved one is gone. Phifer suggests setting up a home altar as a memoriam to those who have passed or having a virtual service. “I’m currently doing all my end-of-life planning sessions digitally. I've noticed many funeral providers focused on creating a more adaptive work via technology, like churches who are using livestreams. We’ve seen a bit of that prior to this pandemic, but I really see an increase in the way people are creating new rituals, and letting go of the others,” he added.

His work doesn’t end with the dead. Part of Phifer’s work as a death doula involves supporting the living as they cope with loss and helping them to see death as a cyclic ritual of life. “As humans, we’ve become disconnected to the natural cycle of life, shying away from the topic of our own mortality. With the current daily barrage of news, it's almost like we're watching not only the growth of a virus, but also our death becoming closer to us. Death is a part of life just like the seasons in nature. When we disconnect from nature, we disconnect from ourselves that we are natural living organisms that are part of the ecosystem,” he added.

In Hinduism, the cycle of life is represented by the Sanskrit word Samsara. A precept of Samsara is maya, or the illusion of existing and behaving as if we are infinite beings. When we act out of alignment with nature, we are in disharmony. In order to achieve liberation or moksha, we have to return to a state of harmony, by accepting things as they are, rather than how we want them to be.

Ashtanga Yoga teacher Tim Miller says the concept of drastuh in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras gives us the opportunity to practice the art of non-attachment by allowing us to be the Witness or Seer to our own mortality and understanding our true nature as eternal beings. “The mind, the body, and the emotions are all part of the seen, which has only a temporary existence and is highly conditioned by our experience. If we attach ourselves to these things, wittingly or unwittingly we are inviting suffering because they will all come to an end.”

Phifer hopes we take this time in history to reconnect with the sacred. “If you look at how we’ve distanced ourselves with nature, we’ve gotten away from the historic practices that were so secondhand before the technological boom. In our isolation, we have the opportunity to tap back into the reality of what is, nudging us closer to the natural unfolding of death and developing a more interconnected relationship with it.”

4 Ways to Deal with Death

If the news cycle surrounding discussions of COVID-19’s death toll has triggered you into a state of anxiousness, here are Phifer’s tips to lessen the grip of fear.

1. Talk about it

“As individuals, our avoidance of death in culture and society has really complicated how we die. The lack of conversation surrounding the topic has gotten in the way of understanding and knowing what to do when illness arises or death occurs,” Phifer noted. “We fear that which we don’t know, so the first thing I always suggest is to simply bring awareness and give a voice to whatever is surfacing for you. Give yourself permission to speak about the taboo.”

2. Create an ethical will

An ethical will, or a Tzava’ot, is rooted in Jewish tradition. This document is traditionally written by the dying person in the final stages of life, serving as an opportunity to pass down legacy and tradition, wishes for their loved ones after they’ve transitioned, and appreciation for the lessons and experiences they’ll take with them. “It’s almost like a gratitude journal. Just that simple practice can ease us and calm us to be in tune and prepare us should something happen. Even if you aren’t towards the end of your life, creating an ethical will as a practice can not only help us face our mortality, doing so while showing appreciation and taking stock of the present moment.”

3. Go to a virtual death cafe or join a grief group

A death cafe is a community where people come together in an informal setting to discuss the topic of death in order to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives,’ according to the Death Cafe website. “Most people feel more comfortable having these types of discussions when it doesn’t directly affect them personally. Death cafes are about disarming death in a way where we’re not avoiding it.

4. Rely on your yoga

Consider incorporating some yogic practices into your routine, such as a meditative kriya that practices the art of detachment from the body, adding more mantra meditation when things feel incredibly tough or a gentle flow from Jordan Smiley to help you get out of your head and into your body.

LEARN MORE

Join Monica, alongside Dayana Mendoza, Daniel Verdad, and Natalia de la Rosa for Honoring Dia De Los Muertos, a virtual celebration and re-remembering of our sacred legacy through the wisdom, teachings, and celebration of our Abuelitos and Abuelitas. Join us LIVE Monday, October 26, 5-7pm PST or you can register for the event until November 3rd, the last day of Dia de los Muertos.  Included is a bonus workshop, called Decolonizing Death, on October 31 5-7 pm PST. Together, we will learn how to set up a Dia de los Muertos altar and learn about the specific pieces and why they are significantly meaningful. ⁣⁣Then, once we decolonize our relationship with death and give ourselves permission to transcend to a better association with this sacred life path, we can truly celebrate and honor the legacy and divine remembrance of our ancestor's purest essence. ⁣⁣Register by clicking the link here.

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[trou-vail-le]

One of the characteristics of a good human is that you take responsibility for your actions. It's easy to perceive yourself as the victim and blame others for your misery. Think about how you messed up in the past and where it got you. One of the toughest lessons you can learn in life is that sometimes the biggest blessing God can give you is in what He removes from your life. He might have removed something u wanted but He might've blessed you with so many other things. A new perspective on life, a new purpose or you realized how much of a delusion this life really is and that new found perspective makes u strive for the here after. His guidance. And that's the greatest blessing in your life. So whatever you're goin thru never think God's simply putting you thru misery. He's cleansing you and putting you through a process in which u can become the best version of yourself. And if you have to look at the materialistic version of your life. You still have a roof over your head, think about how he never put u through a day where u didn't have to go to bed without food, a set of two amazing parents and loving family, friends that care about u, money to take care of ur needs, a car to get to your destination, clothes to keep u warm, a country where you're safe and sound. You're blessed with things that so many other people suffer their whole life for. And you got it without even asking. You have a million and infinite things to be grateful about . But none of this will make sense unless you yourself put a new set of eyes CHOOSE to see the bright side of things. Your life will stay the same unless you yourself put a conscious effort to change for the better You're worth more than u think. You're a person with honor and dignity. You're blessed. You have so much of potential and talent, make use of it. Leave a legacy. Help those in need and those under you. Put a smile on someone that's sad. Help your mom and dad. Talk with them and spend time with them. Make your bed. Go outside. Call your old friends. Study something new. Open the Quran with the intent of learning it's tafsir, establish a close relationship with God, pray a lot. Smile a lot. Laugh. And see how amazing life will turn out for you. And one day when you look back you'll thank God for putting u through the hardship that's weighing on you now.

[onceuponamirror]

(1/2) hi there!! I’ve followed you for a long time and im a writer and I’ve been toying with the idea of making one of the main characters (and her family) of an original story of mine Jewish. The story is very family oriented, and though her Jewish identity wouldnt be the center focus (the story is more about womanhood and queerness) it’s definitely important and will constantly come up. Since I know you’re jewish yourself, I was wondering if there’s anything about your Jewish identity you’d li

(2/2) like to be represented or touched on more!! Or if you had any recommendations for resources regarding Jewish identity for women and queer folks. I’ve researched quite a bit about Judaism in the past, so at this point I’m trying to find things to read about Jewish identity and maybe concepts people have a hard time reconciling with their faith, rather than just general information about Judaism. thank you for reading this at all!!

————

hi there! happy to help, but know i can only speak for my specific relationship to the culture. contextually: i was raised not with the religious elements as much as i was with the ethnic and cultural components, which in my experience is much more common for american jews. 

i think that as i’ve become more connected to my history and my culture, i’ve realized the really latent disparity that comes with diaspora. 

as in—in many ways, there’s a lot about american white culture that i don’t relate to or especially feel welcome within, but at the same time, many jews are also beneficiaries of white privilege. it would be wrong to say that i’ve experienced any negative profiling, especially as i personally am fair, green-eyed, and blonde. 

(certainly the discussion of white or white adjacent privilege in jews is not universal; i have a friend who is black and jewish and she’s talked to me about the struggle of having both feet in identities that sometimes feel far away from one another. but again—i can’t speak to her own personal relationship with that, nor do i want to try, as it’s not my identity)

but for askenazi american jews in particular, especially recently, there’s a real struggle in where exactly we fit in. the antisemitism is hypocritical and often unconscious on the liberal side, and vicious and veiled on the right wing side. 

for example—recently, in chicago dyke march, three jewish women were kicked out of the parade for having a rainbow flag with the star of david on it. this is a jewish symbol before it’s israeli, but they were kicked out because it made people think it was about zionism.

(zionism, for clarification, is the support of israel as a country—a very complicated subject, which i honestly don’t recommend you bringing up in your character if you’re not jewish)

there’s a trend in american liberalism that for jews to be welcome in safe spaces, they must not be “like other jews,” like the bad ones in israel. a progressive american jew must constantly defend themselves against the actions of a country which they possibly have never been to or have no personal relationship towards. here’s an excerpt from an article discussing this:

“By that hierarchy, you might imagine that the Jewish people — enduring yet another wave of anti-Semitism here and abroad — should be registered as victims. Not quite.

Why? Largely because of Israel, the Jewish state, which today’s progressives see only as a vehicle for oppression of the Palestinians […] no matter that progressives hold no other country to the same standard. China may brutalize Buddhists in Tibet and Muslims in Xinjiang, while denying basic rights to the rest of its 1.3 billion citizens, but “woke” activists pushing intersectionality keep mum on all that.”

[x] 

(i should note that i personally don’t support the actions and apartheid structure put in place by israel, but the fact that i feel compelled to make that delineation is kind of my point)

other related readings on the subject: 1, 2

and then of course, especially lately, there’s been an overt-but-coded rise of antisemitism on the right. if you ever hear the words “global power” or “global banks” or anything that alludes to some handful of people or families that control all the money in the world and are suppressing working class white people, it’s antisemitic conspiracy that jews somehow are puppeteering the world in domination.

what i fear, as a jewish woman, is not an individual attack on my safety, or profiling, etc—instead it’s about being a person whose entire cultural history is defined by being the scapegoat, or historically the boogeyman for everyone’s economic problems. 

throughout all recorded history, the jewish identity is tied to persecution and blame. in fact, one of the reasons why most american jews are eastern european (areas now russian, polish, ukranian, etc) is because although we migrated there and lived there for a long time, we were never considered citizens and thus fled to america as soon as we were able on a mass scale. 

similarly, the reason why so many german jews didn’t leave at the start of the holocaust was because they felt as though they were germans; they just didn’t think their neighbors and government would turn on them until it was too late.

so the lesson lingering there for a lot of young american jews is that no matter how comfortable and integrated you may be with the culture of your country, people en masse will still always turn on you and blame you, especially when there’s economic or political elements to it. 

it’s a cultural wariness, basically, and that’s what i mean about the disparity of diaspora. we often say never again, but there’s a imprint of don’t get too cozy. 

you are, but you aren’t. 

it’s not all so wrought, though.

there’s also a lot of warmth and humor and self-deprecation in the jewish identity—the kind of thing necessary to handle the burden of so much historical atonement and loss—and there is, at least in the jewish community in which i grew up, a lot of acceptance and love.

orthodox judaism can be as rigid and sexist and racist as any other orthodox religion, but reform judaism (which is progressive and much more the norm) is super accepting, especially of queerness, at least in my temple. 

again, i can’t speak so much to the faith of it, because i ended that relationship with the religion after my bat mitzvah. i can speak more to the themes of the holidays and cultural navigations if you want, though. 

a portrayal of jewish characters i loved that might help you: schmidt on new girl, norah from nick & norah’s infinite playlist, jonathan safran foer in everything is illuminated (basically autobiographical/writing himself), shoshana dreyfus in inglorious basterds---actually, the ENTIRE family in the show transparent is an amazing and unflinchingly accurate portrayal of a modern jewish family. 

tl;dr, all that being said though, honestly, if you’re not jewish, i don’t know if it’s really your place to speak to the specific current relationship towards diaspora. 

i think you can allude to it, certainly, especially if your character isn’t sure where to align themselves in terms of their relationship towards social justice, but it’s a very complicated identity that i personally am still figuring out how to navigate, and i can’t really speak to what narrative you want to explore more specifically than what you asked above.

honestly, a lot of jewish humor is making fun of the sometimes accurately stereotypical things we do, and i’m not sure you, if you’re not jewish, should be doing that. but i think self-deprecation, sarcasm, warmth, respect for contextual history, and adaptability are good cultural traits that would be alright for you to play with! 

if you want to send me specific examples, i’d be happy to tell give you a more specific opinion on things. and i think it’s great that you want to tell a story with representation!!!!

let me know if this was what you meant, hopefully this was helpful~