#I HATE EMAILS. EVIL MAIL. TRULY.

[causeiwanttoandican]

Harry, Meghan and me: my truth as a royal reporter

I've covered elections and extremism, but nothing compares to the vitriol I've received since I started writing about the Sussexes

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor27 March 2021 • 6:00am

It is probably worth mentioning from the outset that I never, ever, planned to become a royal reporter. I mean, who does? It’s one of those ridiculous jobs most people fall into completely by accident.

I certainly wasn’t coveting the position when I first found out how bonkers the beat could be after covering Charles and Camilla’s wedding in 2005. Desperate for ‘a line’ on what went on at the reception, journalists were reduced to flagging down passing cars in Windsor High Street and interrogating the likes of Stephen Fry about whether they’d had the salmon or the chicken.

Watergate, this wasn’t.

Yet when my former editor called me into his office shortly afterwards and offered me the royal job ‘because you’re called Camilla and you dress nicely’, who was I to refuse?

Having planned to get married myself that summer, and start a family soon afterwards, I looked to the likes of Jennie Bond and Penny Junor and figured it would be a good patch for a working mother as well as being one I could grow old with. Unlike show business, when celebrities are ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, the royals would stay the same, making it easier to build – and keep – contacts.

So if you’d told me that 16 years later, I would find myself at the centre of a media storm over a royal interview with Oprah Winfrey, I’d have probably laughed in your face. First of all, only royals like Fergie do interviews with Oprah. And since when did journalists become the story?

Yet as I have experienced since the arrival of Meghan Markle on the royal scene in 2016 – a move that roughly coincided with Twitter doubling its 140-character limitation to 280 – royal reporters like me now find themselves in the line of fire like never before.

We are used to the likes of Kate Adie coming under attack in the Middle East, but now it is the correspondents who write up events like Trooping the Colour and the Royal Windsor Horse Show having to take cover from the keyboard warriors supposedly defending the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s ‘truth’.

Accusations of racism have long been levelled against anyone who has dared to write less than undiluted praise of Harry and Meghan. But even I have been taken aback by the vitriol on social media in the wake of the couple’s televised two-hour talk-a-thon, in which they branded both the Royal family and the British press racist while complaining about their ‘almost unsurvivable’ multimillionaire lives at the hands of the evil monarchy. And all while the rest of the UK were losing their loved ones and livelihoods in a global pandemic.

Having covered Brexit, general elections and stories about Islamic extremism, I’ve grown used to being sprayed with viral vomit on a fairly regular basis, but when you’ve got complete strangers trolling your best friend’s Instagram feed by association? That’s Britney Spears levels of toxic.

Having a hind thicker than a rhino’s, it wasn’t the repeated references to my being ‘a total c—’ that particularly bothered me, nor even the suggestion that I should have my three children put up for adoption. At one point someone even said it would be a good idea for me to drink myself to death like my mother, about whose chronic alcoholism I have written extensively.

No, what really got me was the appalling spelling and grammar. I mean, if you’re going to hurl insults, at least have the decency to get my name right.

Yet in order to understand just how it has come to pass that so-called #SussexSquaders think nothing of branding all royal correspondents ‘white supremacists’ regardless of who they write for, or sending hate mail to our email addresses, offices – and in some cases, even our homes – it’s worth briefly going to back to when I first broke the story that Prince Harry was dating an American actor in the Sunday Express on 31 October 2016. Headlined: ‘Royal world exclusive: Harry’s secret romance with TV star’, the splash revealed how the popular prince was ‘secretly dating a stunning US actress, model and human rights campaigner’.

Despite my now apparently being on a par with the Ku Klux Klan for failing to acknowledge Meghan as the next messiah, it was actually not until the fifteenth paragraph of that original article that the ‘confident and intelligent’ Northwestern University graduate was described as ‘the daughter of an African-American mother and a father of Dutch and Irish descent’.

Call me superficial, but I was genuinely far more interested in the fact that Harry ‘I-come-with-baggage’ Wales was dating a former ‘briefcase girl’ from the US version of Deal or No Deal than the colour of her skin. A ginger prince punching well above his weight? This was the stuff of tabloid dreams. Little did I know then that covering the trials and tribulations of these two lovebirds would turn into such a nightmare.

The online hostility began bubbling up about eight days after that first story, when Harry’s then communications secretary Jason Knauf issued an ‘unprecedented’ statement accusing the media of ‘crossing a line’.

‘His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment’, it read, referencing a ‘smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments’. Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, had apparently been besieged by photographers, while bribes had been offered to Meghan’s ex-boyfriend along with ‘the bombardment of nearly every friend, coworker, and loved one in her life’.

Suffice to say, I did feel a bit guilty. Although I hadn’t written anything remotely racist or sexist, I had started the ball rolling for headlines like the MailOnline’s ‘(Almost) straight outta Compton’ (referencing a song by hip-hop group NWA about gang violence and Meghan’s upbringing in the nearby LA district of Crenshaw), along with her ‘exotic’ DNA (which I subsequently called out, including on This Morning in the wake of ‘Megxit’ in January last year).

Omid Scobie, co-author of Finding Freedom, a highly favourable account of the Sussexes’ departure from the Royal family, written with their cooperation last summer, would later insist that the couple knew the story of their relationship was coming out and were well prepared for it.

I can tell you categorically that they weren’t, since I did not even put a call into Kensington Palace before we went to press for fear of it being leaked. (I did later discuss this with Harry, when I covered his trip to the Caribbean in November 2016, and to be fair he was pretty philosophical, agreeing it would have come out sooner or later. But that was before the former Army Captain decided to well and truly shoot the messenger, latterly telling journalists covering the newly-weds’ tax-payer-funded October 2018 tour of Australia and the south Pacific: ‘Thanks for coming, even though you weren’t invited.’)

The royal press pack is the group of dedicated writers who cover all the official engagements and tours on a rota system, in exchange for not bothering the royals as they go about their private business. It was a shame this ragtag bunch, of which I am an associate member, was never personally introduced to Meghan when the couple got engaged in November 2017.

I still have fond memories of a then Kate Middleton, upon her engagement to Prince William in November 2010, showing me her huge sapphire and diamond ring following a press conference at St James’s Palace with the words, ‘It was William’s mother’s so it is very special.’

I replied that she might want to consider buying ‘one of those expanding accordion style file holders’ to organise all her wedding paperwork. (Reader, I had given birth to my second child less than four months earlier and was still lactating.)

Not meeting Meghan did not stop royal commentators like me writing reams about her being ‘a breath of fresh air’ and telling practically every TV show I appeared on that she was the ‘best thing to have happened to the Royal Family in years’.

As the world followed the joyous news of the Windsors’ resident strip billiards star having finally found ‘the one’, the couple enjoyed overwhelmingly positive press culminating in their fairy-tale wedding in May 2018, which we headlined ‘So in love’ above a picture of the bride and groom kissing. I tweeted the wedding front page, along with the original story breaking the news of their relationship with the words, ‘Job done’. Yet, as Meghan would later point out in a glossy Santa Barbara garden, that was by far the end of the story.

According to the Duchess’s testimony before a global audience of millions, the seeds for their royal departure were actually sown by an article I wrote in November 2018 suggesting she made Kate cry during a bridesmaid’s dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

Claiming the ‘reverse happened’, the former Suits star railed, ‘A few days before the wedding she was upset about something, pertaining to, yes, the issue was correct, about flower-girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings.’

She then went on to criticise the palace for failing to correct the story – suggesting that royal aides had hung her out to dry to protect the Duchess of Cambridge.

All of which left me in a bit of a sticky situation. As I told Phillip Schofield on This Morning the following day, ‘I don’t write things I don’t believe to be true and that haven’t been really well sourced.’

Having seemingly been completely bowled over by Meghan’s version of events, Schofe then went for the jugular: ‘I have to say, though, that’s all addressed in that interview, isn’t it, because she [Meghan] couldn’t understand why nobody stood up for her?’

Yet someone had stood up for her, on that very same This Morning sofa: me.

As I told Phil and Holly on 14 January 2019, as more reports of ‘Duchess Difficult’ started to emerge, ‘I think she [Meghan] is doing really well, she looks amazing, she speaks well. She has played a blinder.’

So you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite understand why Meghan didn’t feel the need to correct this supposedly glaring error once she had her own dedicated head of communications from March 2019 – or indeed when she ‘collaborated’ with Scobie, who concluded in his bestselling hagiography that ‘no one cried’?

Moreover, how did the Duchess know a postnatal Kate wasn’t ‘left in tears’? And if she doesn’t know, what hope has the average troll observing events through the prism of their own deep-rooted insecurities?

It appears the actual truth ceases to matter once sides have been taken in the unedifying Team Meghan versus Team Kate battle that has divided the internet.

Make no mistake, there are abject morons at both extremes spewing the sort of bile that, ironically, makes most of the media coverage of Harry and Meghan look like a 1970s edition of Jackie magazine.

It perhaps didn’t help my case that the day before the interview was aired in the US, I had written a lengthy piece carefully weighing up the evidence behind allegations of ‘outrageous bullying’ that had been levelled against Meghan during what proved to be a miserable 20 months in the Royal family for all concerned.

The messages – to my Twitter feed, my email, my website and official Facebook page – ranged from the threatening, to the typical tropes about media ‘scum’ and the downright bizarre. Some accused me of being in cahoots with Carole Middleton, with whom I have never interacted, unless you count a last-minute Party Pieces purchase in a desperate moment of poor parental planning.

Another frequent barb was questioning why the press wasn’t writing about that ‘pedo’ [sic] Prince Andrew instead – seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one would know about the Duke of York’s links to Jeffrey Epstein if it wasn’t for the acres of coverage devoted to the story by us royal hacks over recent years.

It didn’t matter that I had repeatedly torn the Queen’s second, and, some say, favourite son to pieces for everything from his propensity to take his golf clubs on foreign tours to that disastrous Newsnight interview.

Contrary to the ‘invisible contract’ Harry claims the palace has with the press, royal coverage works roughly like this: good royal deeds = good publicity. Bad royal deeds = bad publicity. We effectively act as a critical friend, working on behalf of a public that rightly expects the royals to take the work – but not themselves – seriously.

So when a royal couple preaches about climate change before taking four private jets in 11 days, it is par for the course for a royal scribe to point out the inconsistency of that message. None of it is ever personal, as evidenced by the fact that practically every member of the monarchy has come in for flak over the years.

If Oprah wasn’t willing to point out the discrepancies in Harry and Meghan’s testimony, surely it is beholden on royal reporters to question how the Duchess had managed to undertake four foreign holidays in the six months after her wedding, in addition to official tours to Italy, Canada, and Amsterdam, as well as embarking on a lengthy honeymoon, if she had ‘turned over’ her passport?

While no one would wish to undermine the extent of her mental health problems, could it really be true that she only left the house twice in four months when she managed to cram in 73 days’ worth of engagements, according to the Court Circular, in the 17 months between her wedding and the couple’s departure to Canada?

And what of the ‘racist’ headlines flashed up during the interview purporting to be from the British press, when more than a third were actually taken from independent blogs and the foreign media? The UK media abides by the Independent Press Standards Organisation’s Code of Conduct ‘to avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race’, as well as by rigorous defamation laws. And rightly so – the British press doesn’t always get it right. But social media is the Wild West by comparison, publishing vile slurs on a daily basis with impunity.

Some therefore find it strange that such a litigious couple would claim to have been ‘silenced’ when they have made so many complaints, including resorting to legal action, over stories they claim not to have even read. There is something similarly contradictory about a couple accusing the tabloids of lacking self-reflection while refusing to take any blame at all – for anything.

In any normal world, informed writing on such matters would be classed as fair comment, but not, seemingly, on Twitter where those completely lacking any objectivity whatsoever are only too willing to virtue signal and manoeuvre.

As the trolling reached fever pitch in the aftermath of the interview, veteran royal reporter Robert Jobson of the Evening Standard called me. ‘Don’t respond to these freaks,’ he advised. ‘It’s getting nasty out there. Watch your back!’

Yet despite my general sense of bewilderment at the menacing Megbots, I can’t say it didn’t appal me to discover a close friend had received online abuse, purely by dint of being my mate. After discussing the lengths the troll must have gone to to track her down, she asked me, ‘Do you ever worry someone might do something awful to you?’ Er, not until now, no.

Of course it’s upsetting, even for a cynical old-timer like me. Worse still are people who actually know me casting aspersions on my profession on social media. Often these are the same charlatans who would think nothing of sidling up to me for the latest gossip on the Royal family, while publicly pretending that reading any such coverage is completely beneath them.

Most pernicious of all though – not least after Piers Morgan’s departure from Good Morning Britain following a complaint to ITV and Ofcom from the Duchess – is the corrosive effect this whole hullabaloo is having on freedom of speech. When you’ve got a former actor effectively editing a British breakfast show from an £11 million Montecito mansion, what next?

I cannot help but think we are in danger of setting race relations back 30 years if people are seriously suggesting that any criticism of Meghan is racially motivated. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me. When Priti Patel was accused of bullying, the very same people who willingly hung the Home Secretary out to dry are now the ones defending Meghan against such claims, saying they have been levelled at her simply because she is ‘a strong woman of colour’.

Of course journalists should take responsibility for everything they report and be held to account for it – but Harry and Meghan do not have a monopoly on the truth simply because the close friend and neighbour who interviewed them in return for £7 million from CBS took what they said as gospel.

If she isn’t willing to probe the disparity between Meghan saying someone questioned the colour of Archie’s skin when she was pregnant, and Harry suggesting it happened before they were even married, then someone must. There’s a name for such scrutiny. It’s called journalism.

The public reserves the right to make up its own mind – with the help of the watchful eye of a free and fair press. But that press can never be free or fair if journalists do not feel they can report without fear or favour. I’m lucky that a lot of the criticism I face is more than balanced out by hugely supportive members of the public and online community who either agree – or respect the right to disagree. Along with the hate mail, I have had many thoughtful and eloquent missives, including those that good naturedly challenge what I have written in the paper or said on TV, which have genuinely given me pause for thought.

I am more than happy to enter into constructive discourse with these correspondents, who are frankly sometimes the only people who keep me on Twitter. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the bloody thing if this wasn’t my day job.

With the National Union of Journalists this month declaring that harassment and abuse had ‘become normalised’ within the industry, never have members of Britain’s press needed more courage. As Winston Churchill famously said, ‘You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.’

Who would have thought that the preservation of the fundamental freedoms that we hold so dear should partially rest on the shoulders of those who follow around a 94-year-old woman and her family for a living?

If I’d known then what I know now, would I still have written the bridesmaid’s dress story?

Yes – doubtlessly reflecting sisterly sobs all round. But after two decades in this business, I am clear-eyed enough to know this for certain: whatever I had written, it would still have ended in tears.

[sambinnie]

1. Happy Mabon! Every autumn, I forget that the darkness comes clanging down in a great rush in the mornings. One day, I am greeted by a pinking sunrise. 48 hours later, it’s so dark on my run to the river that I have to stop a passing runner and check the time, in case my disturbed sleep sent me dressing and leaving the house at 2am. This summer may not have given us those mornings where it’s so hot I can barely get out of the water, where those early hours feel like full silent days carved out just for me to sit in the light and wait for everyone else to wake up, where the only extra thing I put on to run home is my trainers — I look at my waiting winter gear, neoprene socks and gloves, head torch, two more thickening jumpers, hat, thermal mittens — but every season, every day, is beautiful.

Today we go early for celebrations, and the water is silky, and Orion hangs over us with his phallic sword dangling and Betelgeuse winking on one shoulder. The near-full moon spotlights us and I feel almost ready for the shortening days.

2. Hilary Mantel continues to be a literary god. How does she write with that clarity? How can I ever speak with her calm good sense and wit? 

3. We have two main problems at the moment, as far as I can see. a) What we’re doing (“curating” our lives; twitter spats; purity spirals; division and isolation; wanting ‘debates’ that can only be won or lost; encouraging people to buy more things; trying to buy our happiness; letting marketers tell us how we feel about the world rather than encouraging major moral lessons from throughout the ages to challenge us on our weaknesses; refusing to accept that life is suffering; asking self-care to be a plaster for everything we don’t have) and b) what we’re not doing (joining together to stand against those with more money and power; protecting the people who have even less power and voice than we do as a matter of course; learning from history; protecting nature above all else; prioritising going for walks; learning to repair things and campaigning to make things repairable; having a basic belief in human dignity for all, not just those with whom we agree; accepting that truly, we are all different and no amount of shaming or disgust will change that; working to shape our societies, culture, economies, production, food supplies and communications around improving — not just sustaining — the air, water and land, and fighting to ensure all of those new shapes protect women and children).

Individualism has morphed into something so completely self-destructive that we’ve forgotten we need nature more than anything — literally, more than anything — and we need to unionise and unite and put aside differences and work together even with people we don’t like. 

Because when there are wicked people in power, when it’s genuinely exhausting to think about all the corrupt, venal, toxic, divisive, false, and cruel things they have done since coming to power, those people love to watch everyone below pointing their fingers at one another, saying, You, You’re The Enemy, You’re The Problem, while corrupt populist leaders rub their bellies and chuckle at another promise broken, another mass death on their hands, another building site on a protected forest. Do you understand the stakes here? Do you understand that it’s actual survival? It’s not about being right any more, it’s not about besting someone in the argument. It’s about having decision makers who can not only ensure there is still food to eat and air to breathe, but that relations both within a country and between countries are built on care, and support, and compassion, and believing in human dignity. And while it sounds wishy-washy and hands-clappy it’s the schmaltzy, sentimental truth. It’s the only one, really. 

If we instead continue to believe every single day that my feelings are the most important, that my beliefs are the right ones, that I’ve got to prove those baddies there are evil and awful and wrong, then honestly, what the fuck? If we’re happy to live in a country where hostile architecture is the starting point for all public builds, where we send refugee boats away from our shores, where affiliate links are a career goal, where we haven’t stormed the Daily Mail offices with accounts of all our lovely immigrant friends and family and had a huge feast together and compared our long and tangled family trees, then come on. It’s only a race to the bottom if we all keep running. 

Because, pressingly, whatever the spark of a major global conflict — assassination, fuel shortages, hyperinflation, invasion — the kindling is almost always a populace fed pure hatred for months, for years, until they can’t even taste it anymore but are ready to spew it out again, and are ready to use another populace as the receptacle. And hatred is brewed up in silence and isolation, and in the ashes of bridges burned between disparate groups. 

And on that note, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, mainly because I don’t believe governments are generally competent enough to manage Grand Plans, but it’s annoying that technology and social trends and culture have developed in such a way that no one knocks on anyone’s door for a chat as a matter of course now, that it’s a given that a ringing phone triggers anxiety, that it’s not the norm for cups of tea with your neighbours, that we don’t know each other’s neighbourhoods, that we don’t even talk on the phone, with live words and intonation and synchronised laughter, but in text, in WhatsApp chats, in tapped out words and symbols that we know can be screen-grabbed and misinterpreted, that we know are kept, filtered and sold by the tech companies. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just a reality that every single one of us can choose to do differently. 

Sometimes exactly the right thing comes along at the right time. All of us here watched About a Boy at the weekend, a film which is so wonkily weighted and oddly rhythmed, but a perfect depiction of everything I’m banging on about here. Hugh Grant’s character likes being alone. He’s happy that way. It suits him. It’s his choice. Then, between one thing and another, he finds himself drawn into a world of a suicidal single mother, a duck-murdering young boy, more single mothers, more tricky teens, plus exes and mothers-in-law and awkward support groups. And it turns out that actually, being with people is better. Being uncomfortable often develops you as a person. Constantly prioritising only yourself produces a waxen, pointless baby. Making shared sacrifices might just be the point of being alive. Remember that to be human is to be flawed. That no one is ever completely right, and no one is ever completely wrong. That the boring stuff makes us feel good, and the glossy stuff, if all we strive for is gloss, doesn’t. 

If you want anything practical, here are the things that have really helped me over the last few years:

Writing a letter or email regularly to my MP, to CEOs of organisations, to anyone I want to communicate my strong feelings and how I’d like things to be done better. Tweeting eats your soul. It’s a horrible myth the media pretends is important. It really, really isn’t.

Inviting people to go in front of me in queues, in traffic, getting on to buses and trains. It lowers my stress levels right down.

Learning the names of my neighbours and people I meet regularly on walks and letting them learn mine. (I definitely haven’t just decided I loathe a neighbour because they cut a bird-hatching tree down in their garden on the last day of the year it was legal to do so. It’s fine.)

Joining a few political parties, and the closest thing I have to a union

Making something, anything — everything can be done with love, and learning to not get sucked into the capitalist conceit of having to make it perfect, sellable, exhibitable is a genuine gift to yourself; making a cake or a film or a coaster and not putting it on social media, letting it be ugly or serviceless and loving it anyway. I felt extremely overwhelmed the other evening, but instead of doom-scrolling I knitted a… I don’t know, something flat and woollen, and it helped to have my hands and eyes working on directionless introspective creation. 

Trying to stop hating. Every time I want to tell a negative story in my head about someone, I attempt to turn it into something positive: how unhappy that person must be, what they must be missing out on. It’s so nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish, and of course it isn’t always successful, and of course every single day brings a hundred thousand examples of cruelty and injustice and wickedness, but the alternative only makes my life feel worse, so why would I indulge that? 

Teaching myself the names of birds, trees, flowers, clouds and constellations. I’m still at the most basic levels on all of these, but the difference one feels in the world when you can name things  — let alone use them and know their stories — is a very real sort of magic. (For that reason I hope to read this book very soon.) This episode of The Cut is also good on the wonder and power of learning the names of the weeds that grow in your nearest pavement crack. 

4. Creating anything is always a gamble, isn’t it, but writing a book you actually like for once and seeing it slowly and beautifully sink to the bottom of a river never to be seen again is ever so slightly crushing. However, it turns out even Thom Yorke feels that way, so I am comforted. 

5. I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of these before, but if you want some suggestions of where to find joy, here are my favourites from the last year or so:

I was given Lucy Easthope’s book, When the Dust Settles, for work recently, and I was surprised and delighted to discover the most uplifting, hopeful, human and rightfully angry book I’ve read in a long time. Do yourself a favour and preorder it. I bought this other book for my own birthday, gave it to a housemate to give to me, forgot about it, and was delighted to later unwrap He Used Thought As A Wife. Laughed a lot, cried twice. Marvellous. 

Now even the youngest housemate here can recite John Finnemore sketches and sing the songs. Has also taught them various composers, gods, logical fallacies and gothic story tropes. Also v funny. Oh, Kate Beaton! Her two books (Hark! A Vagrant and Step Aside Pops) are a bit like a comic-book version of Finnemore, but swearier and sexier and utterly unsuitable for all the housemates who have read it and been educated about the Brontes, Katherine Sui Fun Cheung, Tom Longboat, Nancy Drew, Ida B. Wells, Sacagawea, and the Borgias. 

Had to give Inside a restraining order against me for the sake of us all, but Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade is a masterpiece of writing, acting, sound design and optimism. Spy is dumb action comedy polished to perfection, and Yasujirō Ozu’s Good Morning seems like the inspiration for almost all US arthouse films since 1990, and is also beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and good. 

Taylor Swift’s Evermore, like all brilliant albums, isn’t completely perfect. But most of the songs are. And Hole’s classic Live Through This is still just ideal for turning up very, very loud after a tricky day, for the enjoyment of any neighbours who may have hacked down a bird-friendly tree on the last day of February. 

Watched both series of Liam Williams’ Ladhood when I had a week off this summer, and really relished the location, the intention, and the writing. More please. 

Miles Jupp and Justin Edwards continue to be my comforting bedtime listening in In and Out of the Kitchen. Has it ruined Nigel Slater for me? Well, a bit, but no more than any of us deserved. 

I thought this would be a book I’d mumble through the first chapter of, then let get buried in my To Read pile, never to re-open. Instead, I found Whatever Happened to Margo? laugh-out-loud funny, drily written, and full of humanity. Excellent Women has made me want to read everything written by Barbara Pym, a goal I am slowly but surely working towards. 

6. I’ve spent the last few years trying to find hazelnut trees, and finally found a copse between a car park and a play area, full of nuts the squirrels hadn’t noticed. Now I’ve found them, the spell has been cast and I see hazel trees everywhere, on walks and on pavements and running along motorway slip roads. A tray of green and brown frilled hazelnuts now dries with the laundry. They are so beautiful. 

[davebuckleslefthand]

God Calling Two Listeners

July 25 - Wonderful Life

A man’s heart deviseth his way; but the Lord directs his steps. Proverbs 16:9

I am your Lord.

Lord of your lives,

Controller of your days,

your present and your future.

Leave all plans to Me. Only act as

I bid you. You have entered now, both of

you, upon the God-guided life. Think what that

means. God-taught, God-guided.Is anything so wonderful

for such a life? Do you begin to see how wonderful life with Me

can be? Do you see that no evil can befall you?

|

Jose San Martin July 24, 9:01 pm

Daily Lesson Tomorrow will be full

of the problems caused by

your daily life.  When you think it

is too much, remember that it is also

may be filled with the blessings of the Lord. 

Do not be so busy as to miss His Gentle Touch. Do feel free to ask for clarification and/or if you wish to submit Daily Lesson please contact me at this e-mail: hisgentletouch@gmail.com

|

July 24 - Christian Cooperators

I have always work to be done.

Fit yourself for it by prayer, by your

contact with Me, by discipline. Nothing

is small in My Sight. A simple task fittingly

done may be the necessary unit in building a

mighty edifice. The bee knows nothing of it's agency

when fertilizing flowers for fruit-bearing.Do not expect to

see results. The work may pass into other hands before any of

achievement is apparent. Enough that you are a worker with others

and Me in My Vineyard.

|

God Calling by Two Listeners

July 24 - Keep Close

And He said, My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest. Exodus 33:14

Our Lord, guide us. Show us

Thy Will, Way in everything. Keep

close to Me and you shall know The Way

because, as I said to My disciples, I am The Way.

That is the solution to all earth’s problems.Keep close,

very close to Me. Think, act, and live in My Presence. How

dare any foe touch you, protected by Me! That is the secret of

all Power, all Peace, all Purity, all influence, the keeping very near

to Me. Abide in Me. Live in My Presence. Rejoice in My Love.

Thank and Praise all the time. Wonders are unfolding.

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Daily Lesson

The world has enough heartache

right now, don't you think... Salvation.

Do not add your own. Seek happiness not

sadness. Seek smiles not tears. Seek Love not

hate. To seek all that is good, help others to find it.

Seek thy Lord each and every day fill your life with hope.

If the message in the Daily Life Lesson 

is not clear, please feel free to ask for

clarification or if you wish to submit Daily Lesson please contact me an

email hisgentletouch@gmail.com

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God Calling by Two Listeners

July 23 - Stop All Work Until

Great peace have they which love thy law: nothing shall offend them. Psalm 119:165

Our Lord, grant us the

wonderful inward Peace. My

children that Peace does truly pass

all understanding. ThePeace no man taketh

from you. No man has the power to disturb that

Peace, but you yourselves can let the world; its worries,

distractions in. You can give the entrance to fears, despondency...

You can open the door to the robber who breaks in upon, and it

destroys, your peace. Set yourselves the task: allow nothing

to disturb your Peace, your heart calm with Me. Stop all

work, stop all intercourse with others - until all this be

restored. Do not let those about spoil your Peace of

heart and mind. Do not let any, one without any

trouble, any irritation, any adversity, disturb It

for one moment. Look on each difficulty as

training to enable you to acquire Peace...

Every work, every interruption; Do set

yourself to see none of it touches the

harmony of the real you, that is hid

in Me; the Secret Place: A Father.

|

Thursday, Jul 22, 9:01 pm Daily Lesson It is always darkest just before ]

the dawn.  Just when a caterpillar thinks it is the end of the world, it turns into it a butterfly; words of wisdom that tell you to never give up.  Set a goal and never turn back.  Remember, each failure's also a lesson in what not. You and I Lord can do anything

|

Peace go with you all always,

i, your friend, David Buckle

[smhfelix]

no one will notice

trigger warnings: self harm, depression ( does get graphic )

Despite the weather truly warming up, Felix was in long sleeves and the heat was making him irritable. He was tired a lot and if things didn’t go seamlessly, he got angry. The same level of anger that got him hospitalized. Of course, it passed eventually because he’d been brainwashed in therapy. He can cope and realize these things pass. Some kid knocking over his books on purpose; whatever, it was a one time thing, the moment passed. He didn’t get to eat at lunch; whatever, it was a one time thing, the moment passed. He was getting good after a half of a year in therapy where he learned not to hold every moment as if it were life or death. However, some cases weren’t as easy to drag himself out of and with the heat and his anger and the bad day he had on top of things, he easily forgot there was no need to drown in his misery.

It took a lot of strength to get through the school day. It seemed every single class had something new that might be minor to some people, but the most minor inconveniences were sometimes earth-shattering to Felix, despite the front he put up of not caring. Today was a particularly bad day and he already excused himself from second to last period four times before the teacher told him to take the rest of the class to calm down.

Typically Felix walked around the school twice to keep his surroundings changing as he calms down before he can sit still. And of course, why break tradition? Except this time, he was much more focused on his phone. He was constantly refreshing his email inbox, and nothing popping up. He would’ve been shocked if this hadn’t been the case for the passed nine years, but for some reason it was hitting hard this time. This morning (somewhat after midnight) he sent his mom an e-mail yet again, and it was full of such important information. Dreams he had in the nights of the passed week, feelings he had developing, questions any boy would be asking his mother at this age (how do I get a job, where do I start looking for college, etc). But this time, he actually dove deeper into it for the first time and asked her why she left, where she was, if she was even proud of who he’d become, if she missed him, all of it. Somewhere deep in his heart he felt like she was getting them and was too scared to reply. Or she didn’t know how, because they were mostly just childish ramblings on a screen. But this was important and if she was reading it, she had cause to answer this time. Fast forward after his sleep and school day, there was still nothing in his inbox. And it filled his chest with warm anger. He preferred warm anger. He could control his warm anger. When things were physical with his father, it was more of a cold anger, where he felt nothing and could go and go and go until he passed out with no flinching because he was just so angry.

But for the first time, Felix was angry with his mother. He knew he grew up without a mom, that was irrefutable. But he always thought she was around, like a ghost who was alive. No impact, but knew what was going on and had an eye on the place just in case. But the deafening silence from no emails back set a fire off in his chest that started out warm and slowly froze over into a cold anger the more he refreshed the app. He got tunnel vision and could feel his muscles tightening up and his heart rate quicken. His feet changed without his notice, his path rerouting to the bathroom. He felt so incredibly stupid. He felt insignificant, like he didn’t matter to his own mother, that he thought he genuinely mattered to.

The curly haired boy barges into the bathroom that was usually empty, where there was a freshman at a urinal. He seemed surprised, they both didn’t expect to see the other so suddenly. Felix stares at him for a moment before blinking to snap out of it, then rushing himself into a stall. The kid hurried along, though him washing his hands felt like ages to Felix. Once he was sure he was alone,  Felix dug in his jeans for a pencil sharpener and a pocket screwdriver. He was running on autopilot, barely in control of his hands. They were just doing it, like he was watching a movie. He unscrews the blade, dropping the plastic case into his lap, and wipes off any residue that may be on it. His jaw was clenched, his eyes barely tearing up. He was so mad and he wanted to stop feeling emotions. Felix then tugs the right sleeve of his flannel up, taking a small bit of the inside of his cheek and biting hard as he made the first cut. It lay asymmetrical with whatever crisscrossed design was already sketched white into his skin. It hurt, the ripping of the skin, but it felt like home to him. Normally, one slice was enough to numb his mind, but he was still angry. So he kept cutting until his fury subsided.

He used self harm as a coping method, as everyone else did. Some people use it to put a physical pain to an emotional pain. Some people use it as a reminder that they’re alive. Some people use it as a cry for help. Felix did it to direct his brain to physical pain away from emotional pain. In reality, he was desperate for help and it was his biggest fear. When he sees the tiny red gashes on his forearm, it sends the panic to his brain that he has a physical ailment that needs attending to. But he wasn’t at that point yet. He felt it, but he felt the hatred more. It was morphing from his mother to him.

She left you, she’s an awful mother. She deserves to rot alone. She doesn’t deserve happiness. She didn’t have it in her to be a mother and ran away like a coward. She didn’t have it in her to be a mother to you. She didn’t want to deal with all of your problems. She probably hated every email you sent her. Why would you even bother sending them, you’re not worth her time. You aren’t worth anyone’s time. You should’ve stayed in that hospital, everyone would’ve forgotten about you. You’ll die alone. Boys don’t cut themselves, you failure. You’re ugly. Worthless. Fat. Stupid. Sick. Psychotic.

He was crying at his point, that was a given. Normally he doesn’t cry, he’s doing it to run away from his feelings. But his mind was evil to him and making him take all of this out on his body. It lost its pain by now, he was just quietly sobbing over the realization of the truth in his words. He genuinely didn’t know how safe he’d be before his phone went off from a dumb upload notification from YouTube, where he saw the time. If it hadn’t have gone off, would he have kept going until it was too late? He wasn’t covered in blood but the most times he’d ever cut himself before this was six, and now there were too many to count, maybe close to twenty. Some long, some fat, some barely there. It didn’t matter now, there was seven minutes until the bell would ring, where the kids would be let loose in the halls, stopping into the bathroom between classes. He had to work fast.

He shoves the blade, case, and screwdriver back into his front pocket, barely wiping his eyes on his sleeve. After another second of making sure no one had entered, he stepped out of the stall and did his best to clean the wounds quickly with the shitty water at Northlake High. He knew there was enough blood that would seep through his shirt, so he grabbed four paper towels from the dispenser and wrapped his arm in them before pulling the sleeve back down and carefully buttoning it to avoid them coming loose. The last thing he wanted was someone catching onto him, reporting him, having him sent away again. All he wanted to do was to push everyone away again, anyways. His thoughts were right, no one wanted or needed him around, regardless, and he wanted to run away and never look back.

The bell rang as he was just getting the bleeding to slow, or so it looked like. He couldn’t really tell. Before anyone could bump into him, Felix held his arm face inwards to his stomach, his free hand clutching the strap of his backpack as he opened the door, entering the halls of the school once more as if nothing had happened. No one would notice, no one would care, he didn’t matter. He was a passing face in the crowd, no one would be able to tell he was just ripping himself to shreds, adding new scars to the collection.

[rpgsandbox]

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls! Gamers of all ages!

                                              Going down?

Frog God Games is proud to present Rappan Athuk, THE DUNGEON OF GRAVES! The Granddaddy of all Megadungeons is back for Fifth Edition!

                         Mock-up hardcover with actual cover design.

Characters will test their mettle against puzzles, tricks, and traps a-plenty; test their grit and steel against monsters and foes lurking around every corner; and at the end of it all awaits the Big Daddy himself, Orcus. These are truly adventures worth winning.

— “I once killed a man, just to watch him die” – a Man in Black

— “Hold my goblet” – Orcus

Interior mockup with actual pages from Rappan Athuk for Fifth Edition.

Rappan Athuk is back for Fifth Edition. Not just back though, it is reloaded with all kinds of new extras including:

All new, full color artwork

Three new levels of the Dungeon itself  

Three new Wilderness locations, including a three-level castle

A new three-level satellite dungeon

A sea-cave of terrible shark-men! A Kickstarter exclusive level released from the Vault of Tsathogga!

Updated color maps, available as separate PSD files for online play, are included for all levels

Scores of NPCs and Monsters, dozens of Magic Items and Spells, and the legendary Dung Monster await you!

                Art comparison between 2012 and new edition.

Weighing in at over 500 pages, Rappan Athuk for Fifth Edition is an instant classic in the Mega-Dungeon genre, featuring 100+ keyed and color mapped areas with over 56 dungeon levels, several satellite dungeons (almost 20 additional levels!), the village of Zelkor's Ferry, 22 wilderness areas (ways to die before you ever reach the dungeon) and seemingly countless groups of bandits and monsters that prey on those fortunate enough to escape the halls and caves of Rappan Athuk with treasure in hand!

With decades of playtesting and use in campaigns across the globe, the Dungeon of Graves can be a foundation of any campaign or eviscerated into pieces and blended into any campaign!

                             Map comparison between the two editions.

Once upon a time, there was an idea—an idea formulated by Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson in 1974 and published in a little paperback book called Underworld Adventures. The idea was simple: it is a lot of fun to go into a dungeon and kill evil monsters. Why is the dungeon there? No one knows. Why do the monsters usually fight rather than talk? We aren’t really sure. Why are there 16 trolls in a cave with a jug of alchemy? No one cares. What do all the monsters eat? We don’t know that either (although “adventurer” probably tops the list). And we don’t have to know these things. This isn’t an ecology experiment, it’s a dungeon—the quintessential setting for pure swords and sorcery adventuring.  

This adventure pays homage to that original idea. True, there are opportunities for role playing, but most of this module is dedicated to “roll playing.” Hopefully, while exploring the halls of Rappan Athuk, you will recall the thrill of discovery, the terror in your heart when you fought your first skeleton, the joy of rolling your first natural 20, and the despair you felt when that 1 came up for your poison save. This module, Rappan Athuk—The Dungeon of Graves, is nothing more and nothing less than a good, old–fashioned, First Edition dungeon crawl updated for the 5th Edition Roleplaying Game. Very difficult, it should strike fear into the hearts of the most stalwart adventurers. It offers an abundance of traps, tricks, and monsters. We hope that you find this module as fun and exciting as those thousands of players who have ventured into (and not as often out of) the endless caverns and mazes of Rappan Athuk—The Dungeon of Graves. Rappan Athuk is a difficult dungeon. Even the upper dungeon levels should not be attempted by a party of less than six mid-level characters.

Only truly veteran players should attempt this dungeon with lower level characters. In light of this, we added the satellite dungeons, including Bill's very first work (from 1977), Tunnels of Terror! This 9-area dungeon was used as the introduction to his campaign and led his players to Rappan Athuk through play.

All Frog God Games hardcovers are stitched into 16 page packets, the packets are sewn together, and then all the packets are sewn to a cloth backing, creating a book block that is glued to its cover. This is what we mean when we say "library binding." So, what does this mean to you? Well first, you will note that our books cost a little more than others. That being said, after a myriad of book-binding issues both recently and dating back to 2nd Edition, there is nothing we hate to see more than someone investing in an expensive game book and having it fall apart on them after only a short period of regular use.

We feel strongly that book production quality is king. After all, you guys spend a lot of money on your books! Second, if a Frog God hardcover book ever falls apart (we have tested this with baseball bats and very rough use, by the way), we will replace it at no cost assuming we still have one in stock. Yes, that means if you call me in ten years, and your book binding has failed you (failed us really) through regular use (please no bulldozer roll overs), just email me and if the book is still in stock, we will mail you a new copy for free. Nothing I can do for you if they are all sold out though (but email me anyway and I'll hook you up in some way).

It costs us a lot of money to do this, and our margins are somewhat lower than they could be as a result. Frog God Games stands behind our product (and sometimes on top of it when we need a ladder), and believe that the improved quality and durability of our work is well worth it.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Sat, March 31 2018 1:48 AM BST

Website: Frog God Games

[winchesterprincessbride]

Beware the Office Christmas Party

It’s that one event of the year that you truly dread: The yearly Sandover Christmas party.  Last year was a disaster, and you are determined to avoid it at all costs. But your BFF Kate is forcing you to go, and the only saving grace is the chance you might run into your office crush.

Characters: Reader, best friend Kate, Sam Wesson, Dean Smith, various Sandover employees

My inbox was filled with the typical Monday morning crap.  There were requests for reports, meeting reminders, additions to my calendar. BLAH BLAH BLAH.  And then I saw it.  “Oh fuck! It’s here!” I said a little too loudly over the wall of my cubicle which bordered my best friend Kate’s.

“What’s here?” I heard her muffled reply.

“I’ll give you a hint.  There are dancing elves when you open it.” I said with a groan.

Kate’s head appeared over the side of my cubicle.  “The Christmas party reminder? It’s about time! When is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said firmly.  “I’m not going.”

She frowned at me.  “Like hell your not going! You have to! If you don’t go, who will I drink with? Who will I play guess who Ruby goes home with?  Of course, you’re going!”

“But I hate the Christmas party, Kate!” I whined. “Remember last year when Gabe from the mailroom threw up all over me? Or let’s not forget the stellar year when that perv Nick from Accounting wouldn’t leave me alone. People get drunk and make fools of themselves.  I want no part of it.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, my printer made a horrible screeching noise and began spewing papers all over my cubicle.  “Not this again!”

“That thing is possessed, I swear! You wanna make the call or should I?” Kate asked.

I sighed with irritation.  This was the third time in the past two weeks.  “I got it,” I said, grabbing my phone as I frantically dodged papers.

“Helpdesk, this is Sam.” A deep voice said on the second ring.

“Hey, Sam. It’s Y/N on twelve.  It’s doing it again.”

He groaned. “It’s only Monday, Y/N.”

“Tell that to my printer.” I snapped, rolling my eyes at Kate.

“I’ll be right up.”

A few minutes later I saw Sam’s tall form get off the elevator.  “Your boyfriend’s here.” I heard Kate whisper over the side of my cubicle.

“Bite me, Kate.  He’s not my boyfriend.” I snapped reflexively.

“Do you think I’m blind, Y/N? I have to mop up the drool every time he comes up here.  You got it bad.”

“Shut up, he’ll hear you!” I hissed, trying to catch sight of him again. “I mean it!”

“Whatever.” She shrugged.

My printer was now making a series of beeping noises like R2D2 and all the lights were flashing.  I seemed to have really bad karma when it came to technology, but the upside was I got to see Sam several times a week.  And let me tell you, that man is a sight to see.

He leaned over the side of my cubicle, flashing me his dimpled grin. His yellow Sandover IT shirt stretched over his muscled arms as he crossed them, and my mouth went slightly dry.  “So what happened this time?” He asked with a chuckle.

“I had just opened the email about the Christmas party, and I was talking to Kate about it, and that piece of shit,” I pointed to my printer “started making this awful screeching noise and spewing papers everywhere!”

At the mention of her name, Kate’s head popped up.  “Hey Sam! I think we need to perform an exorcism on Y/N’s cubicle or something.”

“I thought the dancing elves were a big much, don’t you?” he said conversationally as he opened up the top of my printer and began messing with it.

Kate gave me a sly look. “You going to the party, Sam?”

I glared at her and subtly shook my head.

“Yeah, unfortunately. Not really my thing, but Chuck said if we wanna leave early on Christmas Eve we have to at least put in an appearance.”

“Well, Y/N and I are going so maybe we’ll see you there.” Kate said, grinning evilly at me. Sam was focused on my printer so he didn’t notice me giving her the finger. She was so dead.

Before Kate could say anything else, a door opened across the room and our boss Dean Smith poked his head out. “Hey Kate? Can you bring me the first quarter sales reports? I need a number clarified.  Have you got a second?”

Kate, who had quite a thing for our handsome green-eyed boss, jumped from her seat. “Sure thing, Dean.  I’ll be right there.”  She grabbed a file off her desk and winked at me before heading off to Dean’s office.

“She’s making me go. I so don’t want to.” I admitted.

“Maybe us Scrooges should hang out together? Strength in numbers and all that?” Sam suggested. “I’ll find you.”

“I’d like that.” I whispered, thinking maybe this years party wouldn’t be so bad after all.

It was my worst nightmare.  Sam was a no-show, so I decided to drown my sorrows in the cocktail of the night, something called Jingle Juice.  Kate had hooked up with Dean earlier and had disappeared into his office, and I hadn’t seen her since.  When I tried his door, it was locked.

Zachariah Jones, one of the Vice Presidents, who liked to hear the sound of his own voice, had talked my ear off about who knows what until I had lied and said I needed to use the ladies room as an excuse just to get away from him.

Gabriel and his cronies from the mail room were all wasted and making photocopies of their naked butts on the copier we all used and laughing uproarously.  Remind me to Chlorox the hell out of that thing on Monday.

Ruby showed up in a red dress that plunged to her navel and proceeded to pick up not one but TWO guys and leave with them.  That girl was unbelievable! I still had no idea where Kate was, and I had lost track of the number of Jingle Juices I had consumed.

Suddenly I was just so sick of it all and I wanted to leave, but I realized that I had left my phone on my desk up on twelve.  I got in the elevator, eager to get away from the noise and the loud music and the stupid. I was grabbing my phone and calling an Uber and ditching this train wreck.

I leaned back against the wall of the elevator and closed my eyes. I had hoped that maybe tonight I’d finally get up the courage to tell Sam that I was interested in him, but clearly that wasn’t happening.  This night had been a complete and total waste of time!

When the doors opened on twelve one of my heels caught on the edge of the carpet and I lost my balance, catapulting right into the arms of Sam, who was waiting for the elevator. “Y/N, there you are! I’ve been looking for you all night!” He said with surprise.

“I thought you didn’t come.  Kate ditched me, and I’ve been drinking, so I was gonna call an Uber, but I left my phone on my desk.” I was very wobbly, and Sam kept his arms around me to hold me steady.

“I can give you a ride. Let’s go get your phone.” He said.

We walked over to my desk, and taped to the top of my computer was a bunch of leaves and red berries.  I looked at it suspiciously.  “What is that?”

“It’s mistletoe.” He said quietly.

“Why would someone put mistletoe on my computer? To ward off the evil spirits?” I asked, confused.

Sam gave a deep sigh.  “This isn’t going like I planned.“ He muttered.

“Would you please tell me what’s going on?” I demanded, peering up at him. My patience for the evening was at an end.

“For the past two months, I have been messing with your computer and your printer, making them malfunction so I’d have to come and fix them.” Sam confessed, color staining his cheeks but his hazel eyes looking at me intently.

“What?” I said stupidly. “Why would you do that, Sam?”

He didn’t answer, he just took a step towards me, pinning me against my desk as he leaned in and kissed me hard.

Merry Christmas Indeed.

@skybinx-blog @percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it@tokyoghoulyz @pinknerdpanda  @atc74@jayankles  @notnaturalanahi@midnightjazzmine @moonlitskinwalker @we-are-band-sexuals@winchestergirl-love @gecko9596 @ronnie248-blog@essie1876@bohowitch@just-another-busy-fangirl@jotink78 @captainradicalpassion@keelzy2 @disneymarina @kittenofdoomage @mrswhozeewhatsis@oriona75 @frankiea1998 @akshi8278@stylinson531@valynsia @dr-dean@theoutlinez  @imweirdandobsessed @growningupgeek    @luciisthebest  @laurenisnot @maddieburcham1  @canadianjelly@muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5@weasleywinchester-blog @samisimportant @fatalcrossbow  @violetsamalamb @letmusicguideu @grantsgorgeousgirl @faegal04 @feelmyroarrrr @kay18115@milkymilky-cocopuff @mikimausiii @the-greatest-temptation @superpanicromancesummer @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @emoryhemsworth @squirrel-moose-winchester

[hydaelyn-arts]

Of the indelicacy of Witch Hunts

This could have been a day like any other. One where I would sit at my computer once my coffee was prepared, ready for another day, beginning with a quick glance at my emails and private messages on various social media platforms as is customary. Then, I noticed there was a submission waiting for me which isn’t unusual and always makes me happy. After over year, Hydaelyn Arts is keeping its promise to be a voice for every artist within our community. Yet when I checked, the name of the contributor was unknown and odd.

I checked the links, read the witty comment “Anon (trace@123.com)” found necessary to add, and set aside my breakfast to write what will be the second message of this blog.

About “using references” and “tracing”

Each and everyone has their own point of view on referencing and tracing, which can range from “It’s alright so long it follows some rules.” to “I’ll submit art to Hydaelyn Arts because it doesn’t matter if it’s traced or referenced, this person deserves to burn in hell!” So while my eggs and bacon are getting cold, I’m wondering if “Anon (trace@123.com)” knows the difference between referencing, tracing, and when one or the other is appropriate to do in as an artist in a variety of situations or if “Anon (trace@123.com)” thinks both are big, bad boogeyman to be avoided at all times. Apparently not.

So instead of labeling references and tracing as evil in all situations outright, let’s demystify them a bit, shall we?

Using references

References are something which is accepted in the art community at large, utilized regularly by industry professionals who have directories full of references and should hopefully be used by every artist whenever it is needed. If an artist creates something without the use of references, it is usually because they have done multiple studies prior to creating a piece of artwork, to the point where they no longer need a reference to create the piece. However, nowhere in the professional art industry is it considered shameful or wrong to use reference when creating work.

To be quite frank, if you think references are taboo, it is a sign that you’re ignorant of what working in the art industry is like, have not been through any kind of formalized art training, never went to a museum to admire accurate portraits or watched a movie where people are asked to pose for an artist. Everyone from Da Vinci to Norman Rockwell to Disney used references for their craft. Entire films like Alice in Wonderland relied on live actors to perform for the artists so they could realistically get movements down as firmly as possible.

To consider using references as something bad is ridiculous.

Who hasn’t done a gesture to describe it properly in text? Who hasn’t looked at their hand to draw fingers properly? Who hasn’t done a google or youtube search to have a better idea of a movement before animating it? Using references helps artists progress, because who can draw or describe a Tacca chantrieri without having seen or heard of it before? Even if they have (heard of it), without having practiced it many times it’s unlikely an artist could pull all the details from memory. It is necessary for growth as an artist, to learn about the world in order to avoid things like this from happening:

Think of how much better the above artwork could have been if the artist just looked at some actual reference of what a real human woman looks like in a similar pose instead of just winging it. 

Tracing

Ladies and gentlemen, ready your pitchforks, the evil word has been written. The one that’s caused several artists in this community to be pilloried, at times unfairly. Most of these people have deleted their Tumblr blogs, after a group has tried and convicted them for something they did (and sometimes didn’t) do.

The term tracing means what it says: to trace, one works atop another piece of art to make an exact copy. Like using references, it can be a useful tool for artists to practice and learn from (if they are using it in an ethical manner for study), but it has its limitations. Very easily, tracing can become a crutch, hindering an artist’s progression in the long term. This post isn’t about singing the praises of the virtues of tracing, however. What needs to be discussed here are the times when a piece of art is posted by someone, and others decide it has been traced, often without taking the time to double check to make sure that it is actually the case.

The important words in that last sentence are “others decide it has been traced”.

In some cases, the evidence of tracing is flagrantly obvious. In other cases, the lines literally and figuratively are blurred. If you weren’t there during the process, or if the lines don’t match perfectly, it can be difficult to tell if a work has been traced, if it was just heavily referenced, or if both artworks in question coincidentally have a similar pose. Yes, it’s true that many art thieves will try to manipulate images to hide their tracing, but where do we draw the line? How do we know for absolute certain the difference between someone who tried really hard to obscure their tracing efforts and someone who just happened to draw a head at the same angle?

As an artist, it is easy to get fired up about destroying a potential art thief with extreme prejudice and understandably so. No one wants to work hard and study hard, spending years and years refining their skills only for some asshole to stroll along and profit from that effort by tracing it all and passing that work off as their own. However, if we don’t take the time to carefully decide for ourselves, investigate things on our own, and see with our own eyes whether something was traced or if something less insidious was perhaps at play, we’re liable to hurt people that were undeserving of our rage.

Is this person always an art thief or is this surprising new behavior? Has this artist created multiple original pieces before now or do all their works appear potentially traced? Are significant portions about the artwork an exact match or is this potentially a case where someone malicious can rely on Tumblr to get up in arms the moment it’s implied someone is tracing without some rock solid evidence?

The easiest method to refute accusations of tracing would be for an artist to provide their references. But, given that references are often derided as a sin on par with tracing, many artists feel uncomfortable admitting they used any material as support for their work at all.

Tumblr “domino effect”

I want to be clear. I don’t consider one artist copying another’s work and claiming it as their own a good thing. Tracing artwork and passing it off as your own work is unquestionably wrong, but I have seen too many witch hunts on Tumblr based upon half-baked evidence to let myself get swept up in emotion now.

After all this time spent on Tumblr, a question we should be asking ourselves is whether a barrage of fury, harassment, hate mail, and cruelty is really what we want our first response to be when we encounter someone who is potentially tracing, or if we want to approach things calmly, through private messages and peaceful dialogue - until we’re absolutely certain we’re dealing with an unrepentant thief willing to profit off of their fellow artists without guilt or shame.

For me, the answer is the latter.

There’s enough rage on Tumblr already. And I believe that most people who are using this platform have already witnessed what happens when someone is accused of something. Even more when the topic is "tracing". Not only does the primary post spread like wildfire, but people instantly see red and reblog within a few seconds without taking the time to make sure that it is actually a case of tracing. Then suddenly more posts pop up, often with blanket statements such as “Tracing is bad” or “If You are OK with Art Thieves Unfollow Me”, bland generic statements which are often reblogged by people who aren't aware of the drama but agree with the sentiment. All of this is like a whole orchestra shaming the artist whose voice cannot be heard through the clamor. At this point, it doesn't matter if the artist actually traced or not. Even if it's not the case, the harm has been done and nothing can repair it. Nothing. Tumblr already judged them guilty as charged.

How do you expect this experience, justified or not, to not have a huge impact on the person who is the victim of so much hate? Ask yourself how you would feel in such a situation, how you would deal with it, and how you would recover, even if by some miracle someone proves that the statement was wrong and their voice was heard.

I saw the effect first hand as I have been swimming in the artist community for long enough to have met victims of the Tumblr mob. They are broken. Judged guilty before they were allowed to be proven innocent. Sometimes even abandoned by people they thought as being friends. Alone, against a whole community. If they disappear, it's not always out of shame, but because the experience they dealt with left a trauma, at times even leading them to stop their craft for some time or forever. Is this really what you want? If it's a first time for them, if the proof is really hard to see or if they didn't do anything, they don't deserve any of this rage. Posting such an accusation on Tumblr is like a train breaking loose that you can never ever again stop. No matter what they do in the future, there will always be someone to remind them of what they did, or didn't do, sometimes waking up the rumors for another time. I'm asking you again... Is this really what you want?

Until I’m positive of what I’m dealing with, and that the artist in question is truly a thief who felt no remorse about what they were doing and only seemed sorry when they were caught in the act, I want to treat people with the dignity they deserve. I want to avoid jumping to conclusions and getting caught by the wild self-righteousness that Tumblr is infamous for. And if it turns out they are tracing? I want to be that person who calmly tries to help this artist see what they’re doing wrong. I want to talk them into embracing and enjoying what art really can become if they do things the right way. I’m not here to be a destructive force, I’m here to celebrate art, share it with the community, and get others to love it just as much as I do.

Thus, “Anon (trace@123.com)” if you want to start a crusade, you will have to do it from your own personal platform, rather than as a submission to mine. Especially as you took the time to create another account to submit your request since this blog doesn't accept anonymous ones. If you are REALLY positive that tracing was absolutely going on here, then find your courage and post this to your own blog instead of submitting it to mine, hoping you can foist the responsibility on someone else.

I’m not here for witch hunts, “Anon (trace@123.com)”. I’m here for beautiful artwork of Hydaelyn and sharing it with the community at large. If I discover artwork that is unquestionably traced on this blog, I will remove the post in question, but I will never accept submissions like what you sent to this blog. Relevant or not. And even if the person throwing around accusations is right on their statement, the accused deserves a private message and a chance to explain themselves before being burned at the stake.

[theliterateape]

Election 2020: Swimming in Sewage Toward a Different Kind of More Hopeful Cesspool

by Don Hall

8:00 a.m.

I wake up a few hours ago. Slept like the dead. I read through the same bullshit with poll numbers and predictions with the same combination of hope, certainty, uncertainty, and boredom as I did yesterday and the day before. Yeah. Trump is a full-blown dickhead. Biden is a truly nice guy. Will Texas go blue? Do I even know anyone from Texas anymore?

My wife wakes up. She’s helping friends move to North Carolina by helping them drive their shit for the next week as if today is not anything big. She gives me a blowjob and gets a bagel.

I’m not worried about the results of today. I truly am confident that the nation will tip back into some semblance of rationality and dump Trump. I’m more interested to see how it all unfolds and if the deposed Mad King will take a shit on the desk in the Oval as a parting gesture in three months.

I have this image of he and his whole skeleton crew, fully repudiated by a massive and historic blue wave, sitting in the White House like squatters, selling off pieces of our national history on Ebay and hiding from His Majesty as he stomps through the hallways screaming at portraits of presidents past about the unfairness of it all.

In tandem is the image of the cultural left sharpening their knives to go in full attack once Biden is sworn in to remake the country into some bizarre Maoist Shangri-La doing what the Left always does — cannibalize it’s own — while the defeated Republicans pretend they were never in league with Trump but held hostage by him like the rest of us.

Fuck me. This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?

10:00 a.m.

I’m not terribly worried that Trump & Co. will steal the election.

I remember years ago a prominent Chicago poet who dressed and spoke like a rap star telling me “It ain’t the n****rs who talk about shit you have to worry about. They’re all bark and no bite. It’s the quiet ones you need to keep an eye on.”

Trump has been barking about stealing the election for months now and I’m pretty certain a man so overwhelmingly incompetent as the one who completely blew both his debate appearances and fucked up a national response to an epic pandemic so horribly that a retarded child could’ve done better is not going to suddenly reveal that he is an evil genius capable of stealing one of the most televised elections in history.

I’m likewise less concerned about the rabid, angry Trumpers wreaking havoc on the country. They were never in this for a long campaign. They couldn’t even take COVID seriously enough to wear masks. They’ll make some noise, get into some melees for a few days and then slink home and grouse just like their hero.

I wonder what the Antifa crowd will do once Trump is deposed? Start an emo band? Go back to working at Starbucks and REI? I hope they decide to occupy Kentucky and reign terror on Mitch McConnell. It’s a terrible thing to say but the party I’ll throw in my semi-quarantined apartment when Trump loses tonight (this week? Next month?) will be nothing when compared to the full-on Mardi Gras parade I’ll throw when the Evil Senator from Kentucky dies. I’m known to say that I can’t hate someone unless I’ve met them but I fucking hate Mitch.

I read a weird op-ed online that essentially thanks Trump for giving us four years reprieve from the cultural warriors of the Far Left. I wish I read it in a paper so I could wipe my ass with it because an iPad makes for an uncomfortable symbolic gesture.

I shower and get dressed. I’m on shift tonight at the casino so I’ll be dealing with the regular crowd while history unfolds like a soiled sheet and you can’t quite tell if that’s a bloodstain or merely ketchup. 

For our sixth anniversary, Dana got me my eleventh tattoo. She came up with a cool design concept: a Chicago tattoo for my right back shoulder that included the baby in the clamshell from the City of Chicago flag, a light blue background and three of the red six-point stars of Chicago, each representing one of my three decades there. She booked an artist in a very chic studio who happened to be a great trace artist but not so much with the original design thing.

As it stands, it’s a fine tattoo with some elements that look like a child drew them with a Sharpie. Not great but growing on me. But the odd thing is that it being being on back, I don’t see it so I forget it’s there. Reminds me that as Americans we tend to dwell on history but not what is directly behind us. We’ll send Trump packing and immediately forget how embarrassing he was and set into attacking the new administration because it isn’t as brazenly Marxist as we fought for (I use ‘we’ although I actually voted for Biden’s moderation).

12:00 p.m.

Dropped Dana off for her trip. Ran some stuff home. I’m now actively avoiding anything news related. I receive an email that our division of casinos is not putting the election coverage on the screens in our Sportsbooks and I’m relieved.

2:00 p.m.

At the casino now. It’s pretty empty and I’m unsurprised. I’m informed that the larger properties and on the Strip there are special task force groups of LVMPD set up at every location to stem any bad partisan behavior in the casinos. For our property, I’m the task force.

I recall clearly the night four years ago when so many of us were so certain Hillary had it in the bag only to be gut-punched around 9:00 p.m. with the news that Trump had won the thing. Unlike so many, I accepted the result regardless of fact that she won the popular vote. Until we sack up and remove the Electoral College, that’s a legitimate win.

5:25 p.m.

I checked. I couldn’t help myself. The only thing that pisses me off is that Mitch won Kentucky, that sour, putrid fuckface.

Yeah. I really want the Dems to sweep this up. The question I’m asking myself is if we repeat 2016, why? The answer so many gravitate to is that half the country is racist but I’m not buying that reductive bullshit. If I had to guess, half the country doesn’t buy into the identity politic of the Far Left.

Alright. Enough. Optimism. Fucking optimism.

7:30 p.m.

At this point I have to remind myself that Dems voted overwhelmingly early and so many of those votes are still to be counted. I’ll admit, I’m surprised that Trump is even competitive but given my disdain for the Wokesters I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If I can’t take them someone from the rural side of Texas probably hates them as much as I hate Mitch.

I was hoping for a blow-out but it’s looking more and more like this thing will get decided in the courts over mail-in votes.

On the floor, no one is talking about the history unfolding. By now, the place is about half-full and people are far more concerned with getting their comp drinks and hitting payouts. I overhear a couple of guys at the blackjack table. They think the Dems are going down. One thinks it’s because of Kamala Harris. I walk away without saying a word.

If there’s anything we should have learned from 2000 is that, under no circumstances should the Blue concede until every last vote is counted. Every last fucking vote.

I’m finding a bit of Zen. We aren’t going to know who won tonight. In some ways this is a good thing. It means Trump will be wrapped up battling the process rather than losing and tearing shit apart out of petulance. We still have a raging pandemic and our economy is shredded.

The divide in this country is not one of race or racism. The divide is between city mice and country mice. As the picture emerges, the urban centers of almost every state skews left in statewide seas of rural red. It also demonstrates how deeply unpopular the extremes are with the opposing sides. The racial identity politics of the Far Left — you know, the folks who flatly state that all white people are racist — and the strident authoritarianism of the Far Right — you know, the ones who love the police and lotsa guns — are so toxic that equal measures of citizens will vote with little more than a passionate hatred for one or the other despite a host of rational reasons to vote the other way.

9:40 p.m.

We won’t know until later in the week. 

Votes are still uncounted in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania. We wanted a decisive repudiation of Trump and, once again, half the country (and much closer to half than four years ago) took that away.

From one angle, this is the best outcome. Uncertainty as to who won means all those businesses boarded up can breathe a sigh of relief. With no clear winner so far, there isn’t a reason to riot in the streets. A couple weeks of legal battles and ballot counting and the assholes on both sides will get bored. 

I was humbled in 2016. I thought I knew how it would go because I was so certain my worldview was so obviously right that how could anyone not see it so? I’ve been ready for this. Like so many, I felt the surge of certainty once again with the polls and how incredibly monstrous Trump became in the last days of his campaign. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Don’t get me wrong. I still believe Biden will be our president on January 21st, 2021. I just wish it had been an easier road.

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

The Real Hack Is In The Doing.

http://tinyurl.com/y6d37237 I had a coaching call with a client recently and it was a trainwreck. I’m trying to get them to create content and they keep peering into the future. Instead of creating content they’re obsessed with: Sales Funnels When to monetize How to convert inquiries into customers What camera to use when filming videos Writing a whitepaper I told them this: “Screw all of that. The key to success is in the doing.” Your Ideas change over time. When I first started blogging in 2014, I was doing interviews with entrepreneurs and turning them into blog posts. I had no idea what I was doing or even why I was doing it. The blog posts sucked and sounded like press releases. I hated the process. None of the blog posts got any engagement at all. Hearing entrepreneurs talk about raising money and selling widgets was boring to me. Then, one night at around 8 pm I wrote a blog post about changing my life. It was all the lessons I learned from studying personal development and it was nothing more than a brain fart. It took about 45 minutes to write and was published with spelling and grammar errors all the way through it. This post got shared 84,000 times on Facebook alone. All of a sudden, through focusing on the doing, I found something I liked. “What starts as an idea changes over time and you’ll never predict where things will end up. Trust in the process” Your beliefs change too. I told my coaching client that his beliefs would change too. What he believes right now will change in the future. This will shape his creative side and his content most of all. “Trying to predict where you’ll be in the future is like trying to predict when you’re going to die - it’s impossible to know” My beliefs initially about what I was doing came from a very self-centered view of the world that was all about the cliché version of success. I thought the nice car, suit, house and bikini babe was what mattered. Pretty quickly, as I produced lots of content and began reading, after not touching a book for more than ten years, I saw a different side. My beliefs about the world changed and the idea of money went to last place. Add on a couple of near-death experiences like a cancer scare and my beliefs are now completely different. I’m no longer trying to figure out how to suck out as much value from the world as I can for my own benefit. What I do daily is about a purpose far bigger than myself. I told my coaching client this story because I believed the same was true for him. He’s trying to impact people’s lives by getting them to fall in love with the work they do. Whenever he starts talking about this topic, I feel inspired. I told him that I say no to so many clients because I don’t believe in what they do. I believe in what he does and that’s why I’m obsessed with getting him to focus on the doing. You learn as you go. People have this obsession with the idea that you have to do a course, be mentored, study for years (insert excuse) before you can start doing what you love. This is a ridiculous idea and I challenge you to a duel if you think this way. As you continue the doing aspect of what you love, you’ll learn at the same time. Even if you’re not conscious about the learning side, the doing will reveal way more than waiting for accreditation, permission or a mentor’s approval to proceed ever will. Everything I know about social media, blogging, inspiring people and entrepreneurship came from the doing. Yes, there was deliberate learning along the way but that was always a distant second to the doing itself. Consuming vs. creating. My coaching client also suffered from the battle that is consuming vs. creating. He spent too much time watching what everyone else was doing and he didn’t spend enough time creating his own art. He’s currently posting one video a week and I told him that’s not enough. He has it within him to do at least one video a day if he quits consuming everybody else’s content. He also told me that he feels the need to respond to every comment he gets on social media. I told him this is nuts!!! You cannot respond to every comment or email you get online. This time is better spent creating than it is pumping up your ego with “thank you’s” and “yes I know I’m so smart.” The tools change. I started blogging on WordPress and now I do most things on Medium and LinkedIn. If I’d become too obsessed with the tools, then I would have wasted the time I could have been spending refining my craft. All the tools you use to execute on doing what you love will change, so treat them secondary to creating your unique art. You can’t preplan the doing 9 times out of 10. Your best work is often done when you’re spontaneous. For example, today is a public holiday in Australia and I wouldn’t normally write on a Wednesday. I felt inspired this morning though, so I decided to jump on the computer and do some creating. Some of my best work (if I look at the stats) has been done on public days and times when I didn’t plan to create anything. Over planning is a trap you need to avoid if you want to get down to the doing which produces results. The doing is the hardest part. The reason why many of you reading this are so obsessed with mentors, education, online courses and consuming someone else’s content is because all of these things are easy. The doing is the hardest part. Being creative takes up all of your energy and putting your work out there to be judged is hard on your ego. “Creating truly inspiring work takes every ounce of your emotions. You need flow states, time, resources and the belief that you’re enough to do the doing” What stops us from the doing is either procrastination or fear. These two evils prevent you from the doing without you often realizing. My coaching client wants to make a massive impact and he’s scared that he doesn’t have the ability. As his coach, I know he does and I’ve seen it. The battle that exists in your mind daily is whether you should be doing the doing or settling for something easier (often this looks like the same thing but it’s not!). Spending time doing the very thing that is hard, is how you leapfrog everyone else that never gets what they want and never lives a fulfilled life. How do you win so frequently? That’s what my coaching client asked me. He wanted to know how I produce so much content and have so many people watching online. I told him the truth: I just spend as much time as I can doing the doing. Everything else seems to take care of itself when I embrace this simple hack. You must become obsessed with the doing. Spend a disproportionate amount of time doing the doing and you’ll produce the results that are 10X of what you think you’re capable of. Are you ready to win? If you want to increase your productivity and learn some more valuable life hacks, then join my private mailing list on timdenning.net Source link

[the-connection]

Two things are practically universal about people: all of us hate spam e-mails (ok -- possibly with a number of exceptions ), and all of us love a great vengeance story .

So exactly what would you do if you got the opportunity to deal repayment to the individual signing you approximately spam lists?

Canadian Redditor u/F3nman had actually been getting spam for several years thanks to a complete stranger in Nebraska providing his e-mail address to business. When his e-impersonator updated their truck, F3nman saw an opportunity to get his own back.

The Nebraskan no-goodnik's brand-new car featured a satellite radio service that needed an e-mail address -- naturally, they offered the Canadian equivalent's. It turns out they truly ought to have checked out the little print - since this radio service likewise offered the "owner" the capability to track the truck utilizing GPS, lock and unlock it, stop the engine and begin, and even beep the horn and panic button.

Using his e-mail to visit, F3nman purchased an automobile health report, lock the doors, begin the engine, switch on the lights and beep the horn. And to actually get the message throughout, he provided the account a pointed label: "stop utilizing my e-mail."

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He likewise altered the lorry settings to the metric system -- an especially ruthless piece of revenge versus someone from the only developed country to still utilize royal measurements .

The story, which has actually gotten around 100,000 upvotes, triggered other users to recommend variations on the strategy.

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Although thankfully individuals explained a deadly defect in among the more popular propositions.

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Other users shared their own stories of their information being mistakenly distributed -- and how they got their own vengeance.

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Another user explained how his efforts to get in touch with the individual utilizing his e-mail address throughout a home purchase caused a remarkable discovery: "I responded to all to let them understand they had the incorrect e-mail address," they composed, informing the individual who responded, "Please do get them to stop, I get rather a great deal of e-mails from where they've utilized it, and it's getting bothersome getting e-mails from stressing and dating websites exactly what my spouse will believe if she sees them."

" I then got a reply," the user continued. "' I'm his other half, I'll handle it'. Whoops!"

With harmful or irritating spam messages representing majority of all e-mail , it's not a surprise that individuals wish to prevent getting it -- and not a surprise individuals are irritated when they're registered for it versus their will. There's an apparent method to keep your inbox tidy without making a complete stranger thirst for revenge, as one level-headed Redditor pointed out:

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For another tale of technological vigilante justice, click on this link to see exactly what occurred when some phone fraudsters selected the incorrect individual to target with a phony IRS hustle.

Read more: http://www.iflscience.com

[kaylaanne94]

Finding peace in the ruin

Today could have went better. My e-mail address has been unable to send emails, during a week my email is one of my most crucial forms of contact. My computer erased all my pictures from my photography session, as well as assignments I had in progress. I ripped my favorite pair of navy polka dot pants falling up the stairs of my home. My dog decided to do his business right when a big group of cute guys walked by, and I burnt the roof of my mouth because I was too impatient to let my food cool down after taking it out of the microwave. Ugh, the struggle.

While I was saying not so nice words walking up the stairs in my ripped pants and a scorched mouth, I felt a big wave of conviction. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the good Lord himself was in my presence and had smacked me upside the head because that’s how strong it was. In that moment, I realized how much 58 people probably wish they were able to complain about their Monday morning email problems. Fifty-eight people would probably love to pull out their sewing machines to fix their pants. Fifty-eight people probably would’ve just loved to be able to go back home today. Instead because of the selfish intentions of one man, 58 people don’t get to go home today. Fifty-eight people never get to laugh with their friends over a stupid Facebook video. Fifty-eight people don’t get to hug their loved ones again. Fifty-eight people are gone. Not to mention, the hundreds of others who have to deal with the physical and mental harm that has been dealt to them because, God forbid, they decided to take one evening out for themselves to enjoy life.

Today was a dark day. That’s something we can all agree with. I woke up this morning to notifications from five different news sources regarding the tragedy that occurred in Las Vegas. I found it very difficult to wrap my head around it this morning, and I can easily say that as the day has gone on, I’m still at a loss for words.

Talking it out with friends and family has been difficult, as so many of us don’t know what to say. How does one truly understand the intentions that can only be harbored in a heart full of hatred? I don’t know if we can, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.

In today’s society, most of these estranged situations have been “justified” by pointing a finger at an outside source. Usually, it’s regarding a relationship with ISIS, stricter gun control laws, lack of safety and security demonstrated by an organization, or another Republican vs. Democrat argument. My Facebook timeline is all too often filled with posts that are associated with each of these things, and then comments that harbor more hatred than they’re worth. It’s almost as if we use this to make ourselves feel better. Because if something horrible happens, there’s always a reason for it, right?

I, for one, fall victim to this trend too many times. I want a reason. I need a reason for my own selfish benefit to fully understand how in the world something this evil could happen. It’ll make me feel better. It’ll help me sleep at night. It’ll help me know that surely one person couldn’t hold this much hate in their heart. Maybe that’s me being naïve. Maybe that’s me not fully coming to terms with the world we live in. Maybe I’m alone in that thought process, but maybe I’m not.

I think we have a lack of words for something like this because, for once, we have nothing to blame. The gunman wasn’t associated with ISIS. The gun he apparently used was banned in the 1980s. He wasn’t even in attendance at the concert, but merely in a hotel nearby. And as much as one could try to make this political, I feel it would be ignorant, as how does one blame the loss of life on one’s political affiliation?

Overall, this situation has caused a lot of hurt and a lot of pain. If we take a minute to think of all the individuals affected, it is exhausting. It is overwhelming. Not to mention the nationwide remorse and the terror that is now associated with a music festival. But, in all of it, we can find a little peace.

Where is the peace? I find peace in the individuals at the concert who stopped to help fallen strangers. I find peace in the actions of the first-responders around Las Vegas. I find peace in the inability for many individuals to find words for this situation, as it proves to me that while there is an overwhelming amount of evil in this world, there’s also an abundance of compassion.

Moving forward, there isn’t much we can do to prevent a similar situation from happening. There’s also not much more we can do to prepare, as our options are literally being exhausted. But, I will not allow myself to lose faith in humanity and in the human heart. Because when we allow ourselves do that, to give up, we have allowed the enemy to win. It’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to be outraged. But the world needs good people. The world needs people who care, and love, and who hold the door open for strangers because you never know how such a small act can leave a huge impression on the human heart.

[mkdigi]

As part of our mission to connect consumers to local food producers to ensure food security and access to healthy food throughout our region, we need to stand together when it is in jeopardy.  Our friends at The Family Cow need our help!

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From our friends at the Family Cow:

Please help! WE NEED YOU!

I’m sorry. I hate to shout. But I’m sick to the gut… plus it’s an emergency… so there!

Transource Energy is proposing to build an Extra High Voltage (EHV) power transmission line straight through the middle of our 5th generation Family Cow organic farm!

It’s true!

Dawn and I and the children thought it was a rumor too when we caught wind of it a few weeks ago. But it’s not. The boys and I met with company reps a few days ago and they seriously, officially have a 3000 ft stretch of our farm drawn in as a proposed route for a series of 135 foot tall towers supporting Extra High Voltage (EHV) Transmission lines.

At first, the lines will carry 230,000 volts (230 kV). The lines could carry up to 500,000 – 700,000 volts in the future.

Transource has not yet made a firm decision as to the exact route of these new lines. But they are down to three options of which our farm is one. They will finalize their decision in a few weeks.

And they are taking public comment now. We gave ours. When we told them that we’re sure our Family Cow Tribe would not be happy with this prospect either, they specifically asked for your comments.

If Transource decides they want to build the powerline on our farm, they will force it through. We will not have any say whatsoever. In the first 5 minutes of our meeting last week the power company rep pointed out that they will use eminent domain if they need to.

If they do that… we’d likely be forced to sell out. High voltage power lines are simply not compatible with the unique pasture shelter/structures that are so integral to our new-grass-every-day pasture movements of cows and chickens and turkeys.

Just think about it. Steel hoop structures, 12-15 feet tall, plumbed with water, being moved around and under 230,000 – 700,000 volt power lines!

Even if I tried, I probably couldn’t design a more perfect antenna to attract and amplify the already freaky amount of stray radiant voltage that Extra High Voltage power lines are known for.

Do I Exaggerate Stray Voltage? There’s POWER in the air! To prove a point once and for all, Dawn and I and family pose under an Extra High Voltage power line similar to the one proposed by Transource to split our farm in two… These photos were taken last Sunday night August the 13th at 10:00 PM. We each are holding up two florescent light bulbs to visibly, unarguably demonstrate that the very air around these powerful lines is charged to a freaky level. In this photo, stray voltage from the power lines is traveling 40-50 feet through the air, striking the upper end of the light bulbs, traveling through the light bulbs, lighting them up with the voltage flow, traveling down through our arms and bodies to the ground where our feet complete the circuit.

Creepy? Weird? Unbelievable? Not Good? Yeah! Our thoughts exactly!

If Transource does end up using eminent domain to force us, we would probably try move to another farm. But that would be indescribably and inconceivably difficult. Plus we are afraid we would not have the financially strength to pull off a heroic relocation. Especially since the power line would basically trash the real estate value of our home farm. Even commercial developers don’t want land with a high voltage power line on it!

So this truly could spell the end of The Family Cow.

But there’s STILL HOPE!

And that’s the point! We still do have a little say. The Transource reps assure us that they are listening… They actually said they’d welcome input from our customers.

So now’s your time! Make sure they hear you! Once they make their final decision… it will be too late to change anything.

So please, please! … Speak for us!

We made it easy. All you do is CLICK HERE and send Transource a message. Everything is all set up. Please leave the “To” box and subject line as is. We have set everything to go to the right place and reach the right people.

Tell your Family Cow healing foods story. The more dramatic the better. Just make sure you keep it 100% true. Give your name and the area you are from. Those who live out of state and out of country, your voices might be the most powerful.

Even if you don’t buy our food but have followed our family’s struggle for farms and foods of integrity, let your voice be heard too.

Explain how powerline segment #323 threatens your food source. Some of you are much better acquainted with the dangers and risks of EMFs and stray voltage than we are. We are still learning. Put it in your own words.

Be sure to specify that it’s powerline segment #323 which you are opposed to. Segment #323 is the specific segment that is proposed to split our farm.

Please be nice. We are not fighting Transource. We are communicating with them. Our logic and reasons build a strong enough case without fighting words.

If for some reason the above link doesn’t work, here is the manual way.

Address comment to: Transource Community Affairs Representative, Abby Foster

Email: abby@transourceenergyprojects.info

Put: answers@thefamilycow.com in the “To” box also. I need proof of your correspondence in case they try to deny that you wrote to them.

IMPORTANT: The Subject Line must be: Edwin Shank – Family Cow Farm – ID #2549 – Opposition to line segment #323

And if you want to contact them by postal mail or phone here are those details:

Transource Energy P.O. Box 573 Harrisburg, PA 17108

Phone: 717-562-7536

It is important to our family that you understand that we are not unreasonable. We do understand that Extra High Voltage (EHV) electric transmission lines are a part of life. We all use electricity. They are a necessary evil, we could say, of civilization. We are not opposed to powerlines in principle nor are we opposed to this powerline project in particular. We simply plead that Transource choose one of the other two alternative routes other than segment #323 because of the very real stray voltage risk to our animals, employees, family and farm visitors including small children.

It’s equally important to be clear that our opposition to segment #323 is not simply a case of not-in-my-back-yard (NIMBY). In fact, we just might be the only family in PA who will be negatively affected no matter which of the three alternative routes are finally chosen. All three of the proposed power line routes in our area would run near or directly over properties or farms that we rent and have transitioned to Certified Organic.

For example, the Northwest proposed segment would pass within 100 feet of a new property that Dawn and I just bought a few months ago. It’s where our son Winfred and his wife Brianna plan to live after their wedding this October 2017. We are not opposing this route even though it is admittedly very disturbing too. The other option, a Southeast proposed segment, would pass near Rodrick and Jeanette’s house as well as another 100 acres of land which we are currently transitioning to USDA certified organic. We are not opposing this southeast route either.

In spite of the fact that both the Northwest and Southeast powerline routes are unappealing, unhandy, and worrisome and very certainly create financial hurt, we are not opposing either of them. They are, in fact, in our back yard and will negatively impact our family, but we are committed to be understanding, reasonable, and above all respectful of the greater community’s needs.

It is only segment #323 that we must insist is undoable, unacceptable and completely unsafe for our family, our team, our visitors and our animals.

Thank you so much for making your voice heard to Transource. We are forever indebted to you.

During this difficult time and in the coming months, the most powerful way you can help our family survive this is to spread this message to your friends, and to bring us as many new customers as you can. The support we receive from extra strong sales just might be what it takes to be able to survive a forced relocation.

Blessings,

Your farmer ~ Edwin Shank for the whole Shank family and team

Urgent! End of The Family Cow? As part of our mission to connect consumers to local food producers to ensure food security and access to healthy food throughout our region, we need to stand together when it is in jeopardy.  

[mackjao]

2/9/17 – Home – A photo of pages from my journal with writings compiled over time and through many seasons of my life 

Despite my ardent love for reading, I used to dislike writing. Having been brought up with Asian parents both with backgrounds in the sciences, I grew up believing that math & science were both beautiful subjects: neat, objective, simple, defined by laws & theories that seemingly brought order to a world around me that is messy, chaotic, and threatening. Over many years as I’ve aged, matured, and gone through many seasons (joy & sorrow, light & dark, good & evil), I’ve also grown to deeply appreciate writing and what a wonderful gift it is from God.

To be able to prayerfully/thoughtfully (with much agony at times) write down words (snail mail [such a lost art these days], email, social media/Facebook messaging, etc.) so that I could both explore & express the contours of my fragile & messy heart, so that I could convey feelings/sentiments/emotions that were incredibly raw & genuinely sincere from the very deepest fibers of my soul & being, so that I could have space (seemingly limitless) to clarify the messy madness of my mind & life, so that I could create & cultivate deep, meaningful, challenging, and edifying spaces of love, humility, vulnerability, honesty, intimacy, and growth via continuous correspondence with other souls (both brothers & sisters) that otherwise would have been limited by physical distance (time zones/worlds apart) and busyness however tough the task (I want the fight) … what a joy writing has indeed become for me. In fact, it has secretly been the primary means by which I’ve communicated & kept up over all these years with a very few whom I cherish most dearly and are to me “kindred souls”: people who are genuinely committed to the cause of Christ, those who are kind/sincere/gracious to a divine degree, bold & deep both in mind & in heart, genuine in love/heart/godly character both in word & in deed, those who realize how incredibly precious time truly is & are not content to settle for skin-deep shallow small talk a vast majority of the time, and those who are courageous & humble and are not afraid to be raw, real, honest, and authentic with me by being willing to tell me how they really are & how it really is.

I admit, keeping up with “kindred souls” like these in this manner on a consistent basis is the number one reason why I don’t have as much energy & time to devote to people in real life more readily, but I have never had any regrets about this at all – not when God, by His divine providence, has seen it good to give me such divinely transformed & beautiful souls to walk alongside, to be in deep fellowship + relationship with over all these years, relationships not hindered by increasing amounts of frivolous small talk from most people I meet in person these days and encounters that, for a vast majority of the time, end up being one and done. After viewing/reflecting on all these writings that not only have accumulated in these very pages but also in the deepest archives of my heart/mind/soul/spirit, I realized what a tremendous waste it would be not to share some of them, writings that not only detail various seasons of my walk with Christ (as above), but that also detail some of the most rawest, most genuine/sincere correspondences, feelings, and sentiments regarding these “kindred souls.”

For many years, I’ve been aware and wary of many who view me as a vast mystery, a great enigma, a great mystique, and an unsolvable mystery (i.e. What happened to this simple boy who went off to Pittsburgh and came back so marvelously and divinely changed/transformed into a man zealous for God/for Christ/His Word/His glory, etc.?). Though I humbly admit my possible contribution to this view of me by divulging testimonies only to my closest godly brothers and mentors in my life, I have never been a fan of such a view as it does a great disservice & dishonor to the God I passionately love, serve, submit, and surrender to. As it has been so many years that this perception of me seems to have persisted, it is finally time to tear down the iron curtain – behind which lie many stories, long/tough/humbling conversations, and experiences that testify of the greatness of our good God and of my utterly divine transformation in the hands of my Creator (stubborn & rebellious heart -> humbled/softened/submitted + surrendered child and servant of God) over so many seasons and 6.5 years of my life.

In addition, I wish to write two very heartfelt letters to two women and sisters in Christ whom I have tested and view as wonderful & marvelous godly sisters, both of whom I dearly cherish and love as dear friends and beloved sisters in Christ, and both who I will always remember with great fondness/tenderness and cherish the times (however limited) that I’ve had to spend with these two marvelous souls via multiple writings/correspondences or meetups. It has been so incredibly difficult through numerous conversations and time spent with them to keep my feelings and sentiments about these two sisters in strict platonic check as many a times has the line between friend and lover simply blurred as God used these two women, the time, and the conversations I had with them time and time again so marvelously to show me His glorious tender heart & great love for His precious, valuable, and beloved daughters.

As I begin to write & weave together, by the grace & strength that He supplies, words of narrative/feelings & sentiments/”kindred souls” that in part will comprise a part of the account that I anticipate to give before my God before His throne on that Day when it arrives, shxt’s about to get real and deep real fast as these writings are written and released one post at a time on the last day of each month beginning with the current one (maybe quicker if time allows, but I want to do each post proper time & justice). A fair warning to all those reading this that if you can’t deal with the heat, that you should turn right around and exit while you still can (https://tinyurl.com/z8uk94u). Also, if haters (I address both believers and unbelievers) want to hate on me/view me differently/judge & condemn me for some of the things I write, then get right in line as I already have a vast crowd (both believers [to my great sorrow, but still I love them regardless] & unbelievers) of those knocking right outside my door though I am and will be in no way intimidated or have any fear of those who wish to think badly of me or throw stones at me (Prov 29:25, Heb 13:6, Gal 1:10, Ps 118:8, Isa 51:12, Isa 2:22) because my identity does not come from them or what they think of me and I know who I ultimately am by the riches of His marvelous grace & unfailing love: a child of God (Gal 4:1-7) cleansed by the blood of the Lamb (Isa 1:18, 1 John 1:7, Rev 1:5) who is not only fully known but also fully loved (Eph 2:1-7, Rom 5:6-11).  

I’ve been through a lot of things, beheld miracles utterly divine, beheld His glorious presence/affirming touch and voice both loud and small (more often. He indeed does speak. Are you listening?), done/seen/heard things some of which are incredibly wretched/dark/evil/immoral/seemingly unbelievable but true/outright horrifying, but by writing all these things down, may you be reminded of truths so easily forgotten or taken for granted: that our God is indeed mighty and wonderful to save I who was once dead in sin but now alive in Christ through the Spirit (Rom 6) by a divine miracle, that I am a wretched and depraved sinner indeed saved by the very grace and love of God alone and that this indeed is what God came to do by sending Christ (Isa 61) and by extension, we who are His beloved children, as well by sending us into the world, we who are commissioned, empowered, and sent by the Holy One who reigns on high to proclaim Christ & Him crucified all to the glory of Christ and God the Father forevermore. Amen.

P.S. After a short update and table of contents, I want to start by first writing those two letters to the two sisters I mentioned prior first (one released end of Feb, the other end of Mar … maybe sooner if time allows), these two sisters whom I will refer to as Sister #1 and Sister #2. These letters represent tender, sincere, heartfelt, and genuine words that I speak directly from my heart to her heart. Though it is highly unlikely that these two souls will ever find these letters unless they’re actively reading their Instagram feeds with fine comb hairs, I do this not only because I sincerely want to speak to each of them these very words both as a confession and as an encouragement but also so that I may finally put to rest all my thoughts, feelings, and sentiments about these gloriously godly (that is oh so truly beautiful and precious not only through my eyes, but also through the Father’s eyes) women of God whom God has given me the wonderful blessing, privilege, and joy of befriending and walking alongside for however short a time as a dear friend but more importantly as a brother in Christ. I will start by writing to Sister #2 first, because if anything, I have a strong feeling from deep within that she likely needs to hear this from me personally a whole lot more than Sister #1 does.

[firedupreadytogousa-blog]

DAY 7 (1/26) ACTIONS TO MAKE AMERICA, AMERICA AGAIN!

-YESTERDAY, IN TRUMPLAND-

TRUMP DECLARES WAR ON IMMIGRANTS

Trump signed an executive order to ban Immigrants from several middle eastern countries and stop Syrian Refugees from entering into the US. His supporters love this because most of them believe the hype behind this myth that our borders are wide open. The process is actually very thorough and takes up to 2 years before any refugee is able to enter the US, but FOX News or it didn’t happen right? This order also plans to defund any sanctuary cities, hire 5,000 border officers, expand detainment centers, and the end the catch and release policy. For a group of people that are so pro-life, they seem to not GAF about the lives of these women and children. I’m not surprised when you have Senators compare people to buildings… yes you read that right, people are just inanimate objects for them to play with.

Trump also ordered the building of the Wall right before his officials are set to meet with senior Mexican officials. The wall will still cost us $25 Billion dollars to build and Mexico has already said, hell no to paying for it and they aren’t planning to pay us back for it either. What does that even mean, pay us back? Well, apparently Trump wants to take all the money that Mexican immigrants in the US are sending back to their families in Mexico to help fund the $25 Billion wall. Which doesn’t seem like a reliable defense since, you know, tunnels… Just sayin’

Then later in the day, Foreign Mexican officials who were supposed to meet with Chief of Staff Reince Pubis Priebus, Trump’s Son In-Law Jared “My daddy had to pay to get me into Harvard” Kushner, Mike Flynn (NSA), and Steve “is Alt Right” Bannon are reconsidering their visit. They were going to try to convince Trump that blowing up NAFTA (North American Free Trade Agreement) could potentially effect 6 million American Jobs that depend on exports to Mexico. They also were planning to flex by threatening to stop cooperating in the fight against drug trafficking, and discontinue efforts to stop foreign terrorists from using Mexico as a throughway into the US because let’s face it everyone hates us right now. Granted, NAFTA could use some updates (data protection, online-crime, and e-commerce weren’t around in the early 90’s when initially signed). But “NAFTA and Other trade deals [are not what has] gutted American Manufacturing”. Automation and our failure to train people for the evolving job requirements in manufacturing have. Let’s face it, this whole plan isn’t for the people; this is for Profit… because remember the President is still profiting from his businesses.

 Let’s Talk About Climate Change

Trump has ordered the EPA to take down the climate page from their website. Also with everything else that’s going on, the sneaky GOP has officially shut down the investigation into the Flint water crisis. All those people will receive no justice and the problem has not been fixed. 

 ACA/ Housing Developments

House passes a nationwide abortion ban, vote now goes to the Senate! Also, turns out that Global Gag order is not just business as usual as some news reports say. It actually goes much farther with some unprecedented reach

HHS banned from releasing data/facts to the public.Elizabeth Warren and Sherrod Brown to approve Ben Carson to HUD. Yup the same guy who said Obamacare was “the worst thing to happen to America Since Slavery” and that he didn’t want to take this job because he has no experience running a government agency. SMH

 The GOP’s Hypocritical Oath

Looks like the axis of evil has some hypocritical skeletons in their own closets. I mean you would think that if two of the cornerstones of your campaign centered around the misuse of emails (one that led to that investigation to nowhere) and unsubstantiated claims of a rigged voting system, you would want to make sure your hands were clean of such offenses right? WRONG! Egg, meet face.

It has come to light that both Steve Bannon, Steve Mnchin (Treasury Secretary Nominee) and Tiffany Trump are registered to Vote in 2 different states! Also, the republicans beat the democrats in the House and Senate by over 3 million votes, so I’m thinking the GOP really doesn’t want this investigation digging up dirty details. But logic need not apply in this house.

Oh, and BTW Kellyann, Bannon, Kushner, and Spicer are all using private email accounts, while Trump is still communicating on unsecure devices. This is the same private email system that the Bush Administration got caught using (remember the one where they “lost” 22 million emails).  Guarantee that is something you will not see on the FOX News feed. Stay woke people!

 Bills, Bills, Bills & The Crooked GOP

The Senate Voted 51 to 48 to completely dismantle clauses in the ACA they were supposed to keep. And there is still no replacement! Items include: ending coverage for preexisting conditions (this also affects you if you get your insurance through work, like I do), cut funding for Child Health Insurance Program, cut provision allowing children to stay on their parent’s healthcare until the age of 26, remove discrimination from women in healthcare, end contraceptive coverage, defund and repeal the affordable care act. House Vote is on FRIDAY! Better get in touch with your Senators!

Mississippi Gov, Phil Bryant, aka Mike Pence 2.0, signed into law yesterday a bill allowing businesses to refuse service to people in the gay community just by claiming, “God made me do it.” Oh ya, this effects the Trans Community as well.

On a National level, Mr. “I Love The Gays” is now backing this Anti- LGBTQ bill, the First Amendment Defense Act, which essentially is code for “Not Straight, No Service.”

House passes bill to PERMANENTLY outlaw abortion for folks on ACA, Medicare and Medicaid in the case of incest or rape! This was the only form of abortion allowed to be paid for with federal $$$ under the Hyde Amendment. Studies have shown that banning abortion does not decrease the number of abortions, but is does increase the number of maternal deaths. This is truly the party of death!

Keep track of all proposed legislation with the countable app.

-RESISTANCE REPORT-

The Netherlands came to SLAY! In response to Trump’s reinstatement of the global gag order, the Dutch government set up an International Abortion fund. Just as we saw in the Women’s March, the WORLD has got our back and we will need the support for the next 4 years!

Another Victory, the Agriculture Department Lifted the Gag Order out of response to all the “outrage” they received! The Resistance IS working. Continue to be vigilant and speak up!

ProPublica is an outlet that recently came out and is now helping Scientists “leak” data and still stay anonymous. This could prove very valuable as many scientists were frantically saving data before the Trump Dumb. Now it looks like there are alternative venues to house and distribute info to the public, including rogue twitter accounts created by the National Parks Service AltUSNatParksService (@AltNatParkSer), the EPA @UngaggedUSEPA, and NASA @rougeNASA. it’s official! The resistance movement has hit SPACE!

Greenpeace killed it in the resistance game yesterday! These People Scaled a crane and hung a “Resist” banner just blocks away from the White House! You could actually see it in the background as you looked at the Whitehouse! And then these folks chased down Marco Rubio to give him an actual spine in response to his caving on the Tillerson vote.

Some leaky aids in the Whitehouse spilled all the tea on how our resistance is getting under the Child in Chief’s thin skin. It seems like he’s having a hard time adjusting to having a real job.

NYC continues to make me proud! Here is video of the hundreds of people that descended upon Washington Square to STAND up for immigrants and Muslims! Later on Mayor Bill De Blasio, held a press conference to express that NYC would remain a sanctuary city. Mayors from Boston, San Francisco, and other sanctuary cities around the US joined suit. I couldn’t make the protest by donated to the IRC (International Rescue Committee). You can Donate HERE. Philly also Rose Up and protested outside the GOP’s hotel where Trump is supposed to meet with the GOP today! More Protests are scheduled. Info HERE.

-TAKE ACTION-

Demonstration Save the Dates

1/30 (MON) Stop Devos Office Visit at Schumer’s Office, 49th and 3rd 4:15pm! Why? Because even her former college mates think she’s inept! RSVP HERE

1/31 (TUES) What the F@$k Chuck, rally in front of Chuck Schumer’s house to remind him he may be sitting pretty and secure now, but he works for US and we will hold him accountable. #NotOneInch. RSVP to the Event HERE

2/11 (SAT) Anti-Planned Parenthood Protest Support needed. They are targeting the Planned Parenthood on Bleecker, 26 Bleecker Street, New York, NY 10012, from 11pm-1pm. The PP reps do not want counter protesters but instead folks that can volunteer to be escorts for patients. Find if your center is affected and call/ email for more info on how to help.

MY ACTIONS FOR TODAY

1) EMERGENCY ACTION TO STOP DEVOS. VOTE IS 1/31. Calling all NC, SC, ME, TN, AK, GA, UT, LA, KS, and KY friends!! WE NEED 3 SENATORS TO CHANGE THEIR VOTES TO PREVENT DeVos FROM BEING CONFIRMED!!!. Guide to Calling Senators. These are the Senators we need to vote NO. Find Your Elected Officials HERE. If you can’t get to them, try all the numbers listed for their staff as well!

2)  FLOOD Paul Ryan’s office with letters (since he has stopped picking up the phone) and tell him what happened today in the House to remove the provisions of Obamacare and defund it with no replacement is unacceptable. here is his mailing address: 1233 Longworth HOB, Washington, D.C. 20515; Fax: (202) 225-3393. Yes, they still use Fax Machines over there.

3)  NYC/ Manhattanites Keep Calling Chuck to demand he stop compromising with Trump. Home Address: 9 Prospect Park, W Brooklyn, NY 11215. Fill his mailbox! Melville Office: 631-753-0978, Dir of NYC Policy and Economic Development: 212-486-7804, or his special assistant: 212-486-5373 (these are the only ones getting through right now)

4)  Call (844)-6-RESIST to tell the House to vote against Jeff Sessions.

5) Follow the @AltNatParkSer, @UngaggedUSEPA, and @rougeNASA to stay woke on Science!

6) Science March on Washington Is in The Works. Join their FB Page Here or follow them on twitter @SciencmarchDC or Reddit to keep up to date or signup to help!