#I got mookies book and I’m inspired

[comradelup]

fuck it. balance youtuber au because i’ve been thinking about it

(modern au with no magic but still elves/dwarves/etc)

the twins have a joint channel but they post things together as often as they make videos on their own. they do vlogs, story times, and challenge videos both together and not, but do stuff with fashion/makeup together. taako does cooking on his own and lup does chemistry experiments that involve fire more often than not. if someone says they like the twins’ videos it’s a wild card as to what they watch them for, but everyone ends up liking all of their content because who can hate the twins? they have a lot of “annoying influencer” energy but are actually really nice to fans/people in general and donate a lot of their Youtube Money to charities and stuff (all of the ipre does this too because fuck rich people except for them)

magnus’ channel is mostly woodworking/construction projects. he does occasional story times and in every one he’s carving and/or painting a wooden duck. he does vlogs too and half of them are him buying more woodworking stuff (idk shit about it so idk what he’d get lol) and the other half have a part where he sees someone walking a dog and him going to meet them. almost every video includes/mentions julia and people make “magnus talking about julia” compilations bc he loves his wife and talks about her all the time. he’s very positive in general and everyone loves how he’s a human golden retriever

merle’s channel is 99% gardening, 1% collating with the others. he made one joke along the lines of plant fucking and it was not serious at all but his subscribers/followers made into such a big joke that he makes at least one joke per video except for when his kids are in the video, which is when he makes it suuuper educational and fun and wholesome. mookie tries to eat the plants and play with the soil and mavis tells her dad about what she’s learned about biology in school. also he puts “(emotional)” and “(not clickbait)” at the end of video titles randomly despite knowing what they mean

barry’s channel is science-centric (yes he collabs with lup frequently) but about more feilds of science. sometimes he goes on rants about theoretical physics like a madman a la bdg’s unraveled series and sometimes he makes videos titled “making the volcano kitchen experiment but the size of a kiddie pool (emotional).” he also has a series about paranormal activity/cryptids, stuff like “why ghosts should be and are real” and “my top five favorite pieces of bigfoot evidence” and like i said this is a no magic au but he once was asked in a q&a about what he’d do if he was a lich and gave a surprisingly detailed response? people were really confused but intrigued?? did barry invent magic???

lucretia 100% has an art channel, but she also writes prose and poetry in her free time and sometimes reads them for videos. she posts speedpaints of her work (digital and traditional) with her telling her process/inspiration or doing story times as the background audio. she had a period of time where she started writing a whole novel in her spare time (basically the balance story but different characters) and all her videos were her making concept art. her fans loved it and boosted it to the point where it actually got published, so now she’s a best selling author with a seven book series. now she keeps making videos of her concept art for other book ideas (the other arcs) with her infodumping about the characters/plot/etc

davenport doesn’t actually have a channel, but has been in the background of all the others’ videos to the point where he’s treated like a cryptid and has a small fanbase of his own. he’s mostly in merle’s videos (because they’re dating) and magnus’ vlogs (because magnus Loves His Friends) but he’s been in at least a handful of everyone’s videos. he makes a twitter and instantly gets thousands of followers. he tweets the most random shit at the most random times and half of them become memes. people find out he’s a professor at the college the rest of them met at and everyone looses it

kravitz is in a similar position as davenport, but he was convinced to start a channel. he mostly does stuff involving antiques because he collects them, so he does haul videos of what he bought or thrifted and videos of him restoring them as he looks up how old they were and what random shit they were used for and stuff. people make compilations of him getting off topic and going on a tangent about taako then realizing he just rambled for ten minutes and getting flustered. he also plays a handful of classical instruments and makes occasional collabs with lup + barry

despite having completely different channels they’re all friends??? people didn’t know at first but they found out through davenport and kravitz “this one guy who i think is dating taako but i’m not sure and idk his name” showing up in everyone’s videos. from then on they started collabing more often and it’s really fun to see them outside of their element. lup once almost burnt down magnus’ workshop while making a chemistry video with him. taako tried to teach kravitz how to make macaroons (keyword: tried) and kravitz talked about this new antique shop he found the whole time. barry went on and on and on about biology while gardening with merle, who tried to follow along but failed and ended up making fun of all the scientific names for plants

they call themselves the red robes after the main characters in lucretia’s novel (they’re not similar to the characters but there’s seven of them and six youtubers + one davenport)

they once did a big group collab where the twins dressed everyone up in high fashion outfits and lucretia painted a big portrait of all of them. it was very wholesome but also had a lot of lup and taako arguing over what accessory fits who and “no this person should do their hair like this!” and at one point magnus and kravitz just dipped to go play cards and talk about dogs

speaking of wholesome angus has a channel of his own which is mostly booktube with him getting halfway through a mystery novel, predicting the ending, and being 100% correct. he’s done videos with the others and is kinda associated with them but not totally, and is often lovingly referred to as the nephew to the rest of them

killian and carey don’t have a channel but are in the bg of magnus’ videos often. they were referred to as “magnus’ lesbian friends” until they got popular on instagram and became an internet power couple. johann has a small channel and a soundcloud he plays violin on and did one (1) collab with lup and it made him blow up overnight. avi has a semi-popular twitter and is mostly known as johann’s bf. sloane and hurley have a channel about drag racing/cars in general and don’t show their faces and go by the raven and ram

i was trying to think of who’d have a gaming channel and it’s 100% graham, who casually mentions that he’s friends with Pro Wrestler Jess The Beheader

lucas has a science focused channel similar to barry’s where he tries to be educational and ends up being annoying/kind of wrong about it. barry has a mini series called “lucas miller is a bitch here’s why” and it’s him disproving lucas’ theories with a deadpan expression and generally being better at science than him

remember when i said taako and lup have influencer energy despite being nice? yeah, lydia and edward are like that but they’re actually annoying. they have a popular makeup/fashion channel and lup and taako have gotten into slight drama with them over how the wonderland twins have been rude to them and the how the red robe twins are “jealous.” the internet is divided over who likes which pair of twins better

lup learns that greg fucking grimauldis (who the twins knew in high school) has a popular twitter/insta platform and tweets the “i am to collect” speech out of nowhere from everyone’s pov. taako tweets the video he took of him telling her and her immediately going “no fucking way that ASSHOLE is getting away with what he did to me” and opening twitter. it becomes a meme and he pays her back and changes his social media handles to “gregfuckinggrimauldis”

i can’t think of anything else because i don’t know enough about youtube but yeah.

[stateofloveandnegan]

Hatred - Eddie Vedder

could you possibly do one where the reader is really good friends with stone and mike and jeff because she's in another band and they invite her to open for them because of their new singer, eddie. and when she meets him, for whatever reason, they both really hate each other but in the end, they end up getting together. thanks!

Godddd it took me long enough, but it’s finally here! Enjooooy :)

Requested by: anon

“Soooo, you’ve finally found a singer?” I ask Jeff when we’re walking outside. We don’t really have a destination to go to, we’re just walking around bit, enjoying the fresh air.

Jeff smiles, “Jup, and his voice is really amazing. He’s coming over from San Diego in a few days. I can’t wait to meet him.”

I throw my arm around his waist and rest my head on his shoulder, “I’m so happy for you and the guys, Jeff. You really deserve the best, after all you’ve been through.”

I feel Jeff wrapping his arms around me in a hug and he lifts me off the ground, “Oh my god! Jeffrey Allen Ament, put me down right now!” I scream and struggle to get out of his arms. He just laughs and gently puts me down after a couple of minutes, “You’re adorable (Y/N).”

I scoff, “I keep wondering why I’m friends with you, Jeffrey.”

“Because you like me too much, dear. And stop calling me Jeffrey, you know I hate it when people call me that.”

I send him a smirk, “That’s exactly the reason why I’m not gonna stop calling you Jeffrey, Jeffrey.” I say and wink at him.

He groans in defeat and throws his right arm around my shoulder. “Just don’t call me that in front of the others, will you? It’s already annoying enough you’re calling me Jeffrey right now.”

I laugh and take his right hand, the one that’s hanging next to my ear, in my hand and intertwine our fingers, “I guess it’s the least I can do.”

Days go by and soon I receive a call from Stone. “Hey Steno! How’s life?”

“Hey, love! It’s very, very, very kind to me and the boys these past days. We’ve got ourselves a singer and he actually wants to become a member of the band!”

I smile at how happy Stone sounds. It’s been such a rollercoaster ride for them and it’s a real blessing for them to have finally found a singer. “I’m so happy for you, Stone! Really, I can’t wait for the day you guys go worldwide, I know that day will come! Just don’t forget me, will ya?”

Stone laughs through the telephone, “We won’t ever forget you, (Y/N)! Just don’t forget us, either, then we’re even. Oh, by the way, Mike is coming to get you right now. You’re going out for dinner with us. Unfortunately you won’t be able to meet Eddie, he had to go back to San Diego..”

“Eddie? I assume he’s the new singer?”

Stone tells me he is and right when we hang up, someone’s knocking on my door. I put down the phone and walk to the door. When I open it I’m met with Mike, as Stone said. “Hey Mikey, it’s good to see you.”

“Hey (Y/N), likewise, now come on, I’m starving. I need food!” he says in a whiney voice. I laugh, “Let me get my bag, then we can go.”

Not much later after that Mike and I make our way into a small diner. Jeff, Dave and Stone notice us and gesture for us to come sit with them, quite a useless move, it’s not like Mike and I were planning to sit somewhere alone..

“Congrats guys! I’m so happy for you, I know I keep saying it, but it’s just because I genuinely am!” I say while greeting all of them with a hug. “So, I just decided, that as a present I’ll pay tonight, to show you how proud I am of you.”

Four heads snap up and I’m met with confused faces, “Like hell you are, we’re not gonna steal you from your money, (Y/N).”

I can’t hold my laughter at Jeff’s comment together with his seriousness, “There’s no stopping me, Jeff. Don’t worry, I can afford to treat my best friends for once. I’d be happy to do it, just let me, alight?”

Jeff realised there was no way he could stop me, so he dropped the subject and soon after we ordered some food and drinks.

The night went on and things were great. It’s always so much fun with the guys, they’re all just so nice and I can’t imagine life without them.

The hours flew by and before I even know what I’m doing, I’m already paying the bill. Only shortly after Jeff had tried to get Stone to keep me still so I couldn’t reach the cashier; they always underestimate my strength.

“Thanks again, dopey.” Mike said while we all made our way outside. It’s his thing to call me ‘dopey’, I don’t mind, I think it’s kind of cute.

The rest of the evening is spent with some booze and music in my garage. I, myself, am also part of a band, so there’s instruments all over the place in the garage, since we always rehearse here.

When the clock hits two in the morning, the guys decide to call it a night and all head home. I’m not really tired yet, so I stay in the garage to play some more guitar and maybe write a song, you never know when the inspiration hits you.

Days pass and in the blink of an eye it’s time for me to meet the infamous Eddie Vedder. I’m curious to know what he’s like and I can’t wait, honestly. If he’s really as cool and chill as the guys described him, there must be no problem for us to become friends.

“There you are! The guy’s can’t wait for you to meet him, they’re just backstage now. They’ll be here in a minute.” Kiara exclaims when I make my way into the club. It’s a small club where Soundgarden, our friends’ band, just performed. That’s why the guys are backstage, to talk to Chris, Kim, Matt and Ben.

Kiara and I take a seat at the bar and as we take our seats I can’t help but look around a bit, to see if there are some familiar faces. I can’t spot many people, though. Just some faces I’ve seen here and there, but no one too familiar.

“What a loser.” I mumble under my breath while looking at a guy who’s just come from backstage. Kiara turns her face to me, “What, who?”

I nod in his direction, “Him. Who is he anyway?”

“Oh god, (Y/N). That’s Eddie, as in the new singer of the guys. Do you know him already?” Kiara asks with a hand covering her mouth.

My eyes go slightly wide, “Eh no, I’ve never seen him.. He just has this air around him that annoys me. Don’t you see it?”

Before Kiara can answer, my name is called by the one and only Stone Carpenter Gossard and I’m dragged by the said person backstage. “Y/N), this is Eddie. Eddie, this is (Y/N).” Stone says while dragging me and Eddie across from each other.

I notice Eddie must feel the same about me, ‘cause he doesn’t seem too happy to see me. “Oh, well.. hello.” he says

“Welcome to Seattle. Hope you’re gonna have fun.” I reply dryly.

Months have passed and Eddie and I got worse every time we met. The hatred built up between us isn’t even humane anymore. I can’t stand a word he says, same goes for the other way around. It’s madly annoying that exactly the one person I hate with my everything has to be one of the closest friend of my best friends. It’s utterly frustrating.

In the mean time the guys have also changed the band’s name from ‘Mookie Blaylock’ to ‘Pearl Jam’. It fits them good, the name.

I’m just hanging around ad chilling in my apartment when there’s a knock on my door. “Come in, it’s open!” I yell from the couch and within a second Stone is standing behind me. “Hey there.” I say, looking up from the tv to meet his face, which is very happy. He’s not usually this happy.

“Wassup?” I ask him as he takes a seat next to me.

He turns to face me and as I sit straight, he takes ahold of my hands “I’ve got a surprise for you.” Is the first thing he says since he’s come in.

“Soooo, tell me..” I tell him after he’s silent for a couple of minutes, waiting for me to give some sort of reply.

He nods, “I’ve booked Pearl Jam another gig and they said we could also get a supporting act, so I asked if I could choose who that was gonna be and they said yes and I’ve kinda booked Purps a gig as our supporting act….?” he says, all way too fast and without any punctuation, with puppy eyes on his face and with a hint of insecurity.

I process everything he’s said and when it finally gets to me, I jump off the couch and start screaming in happiness. “YOU’VE BOOKED PURPS A GIG?!”

Stone starts laughing and gets up as well. He takes my hands in his and looks me straight in the eye, “So, you’re in?” he asks questioningly and hopeful.

“If it were up to me I’d say yes right away. I can’t believe you’re doing this for me. For us! But of course, I need to ask the others first.” I say as I give him a hug, tighter than ever.

“Yeah, ‘course. Just let me know as soon as possible. Otherwise I’m gonna have to find another band..”

Stone stays for a while longer, just chilling at my place. In the meantime I’ve called my bandmates (Elisha, Darren, Damien and Kim) and they all sounded very happy and excited about the news. We have never played live-show before, this is because all five of us are kind of scared to go on stage and we just like keeping it low-key in my garage, sometimes performing for some friends, but that’s it.

The day of the show soon arrived and Purps was completely ready for it, all the nervousness replaced by excitement. We all knew we were just an opening act for Pearl Jam, but it was a big thing for us.

As soon as we got on stage, we started playing like our lives depended on it, maybe it did. Maybe this was the beginning of a big something.

After the first three songs it was time for me to introduce ourselves.

“Helloouh everyone! We are Purps and tonight we’re opening for our good friends Pearl Jam!” the crowd went wild when I mentioned them. I am so proud of them, having so many people that support them already, it’s amazing to see. “Enjoy your night and thanks for having us!” I say before we start our next song. I notice the guys backstage and every once in a while one of them gives us a thumbs up, except for Eddie, obviously.. Because of the fact that he can’t stand me, he’s also built up hatred towards my band, which I think is idiotic, ‘cause even if I hate Eddie, I still think he makes good music. It seems he doesn’t think that way about us.

About 45 minutes later it’s time for us to leave the stage, but not after receiving a huge applause from the crowd. I never imagined playing a show would feel so good, especially if you’re being appreciated by the people you’re playing for.

“You were great guys! Congrats on your first show ever.” Mike states while giving us a big sweaty group hug. The rest of the guys congratulate us as well, but once again, except for Eddie. I decide to leave him be, not being in the mood to spend energy on him. It’s been such a blast tonight and I won’t let him ruin that.

“Good luck, guys. You’ll do great!” I tell the guys before they head on stage. I notice Eddie looks at me and I can’t place his expression. I want to say something, but first of all I don’t know what and second of all I can’t, ‘cause before I can say something, Eddie’s gone on stage.

My bandmates and I decide to head into the crowd to have a better view of Pearl Jam. They were already playing there fourth song when we reached the crowd and most of the people were singing along with the words. It was a great view.

They played their show and when they were done I clapped harder than I’d ever done before. Heading back backstage I ran up to them and gave them a big hug, “I’m so proud of you all! You don’t even know.” I say loudly and squeeze them tighter. That is until I’m being pushed back by a certain someone.

“Get off me, (L/N).” Eddie mutters.

I stumble over Dave’s feet and prepare myself for a fall, but I’m being held up by strong arms. “Thanks Jeff.” I say as I look up to him.

“What is wrong with you? I just congratulated you, asshole.” I snap at Eddie, who’s just looking pissed off at me.

He starts walking away and drops the subject, but I’m not done yet. “Ugh, I feel like punching him in the face so hard right now.” I sigh frustrated by anger, just loud enough to hear him. Jeff is the only one who stayed with me, the others have already left to get some drinks.

Eddie suddenly comes to a halt and his head turns in my direction, “Why don’t you just do it then?” he says coldly.

I look him directly in the eyes and at this moment Jeff realises it’s time for him to leave, knowing moments like this could get heated between me and Eddie. It isn’t the first time something like this happens.

“Because,” I say as I slowly start walking in his direction, “you’re not worth my and especially not my punch. You should be honoured if I punched you.”

Eddie scoffs and walks closer to me, we’re now just inches apart from each other, our noses almost touching. “You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Says the one who has never even congratulated my band, because of his hatred towards the singer. How am I full of myself when I always say how proud I am of Pearl Jam and how much I think you deserve it? Huh? Tell me, Vedder. Enlighten me about the situation, ‘cause I’d love to-”

I’m cut off by his lips being pressed against mine. At first I desperately want to push him away, but it’s only then that I realise how good this feels, as if it’s meant to be. His tongue slides across my lower lip, asking for entrance, and I gladly open my mouth. Our tongues meet roughly. I’ve never kissed anyone with so much passion.

When we break apart, we’re both very much in the need of air, resting our foreheads against each other, we regain our breathing. My hands are resting on his chest and his are around my waist.

“I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.” I mumble while still trying to regain my breath.

He chuckles, “I know you do, I feel the same.”

We both start laughing a bit, something that’s never happened before and it catches us both off guard. “This is weird.” I tell him while were looking each other deeply in the eyes.

He nods and puts his hand on my face, rubbing his thumb against me cheek slightly, “I know, but it feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“God it does!” I say and I completely melt into his touch. “I could get used to this, it feels a lot better than hating you, actually.” I confess

“you better get used to is, I’m not planning on leaving this behind any time soon.” he smirks and gives me another kiss.

[newstechreviews]

The killings of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and Tony McDade have once again brought the urgent need for racial justice to the forefront of conversation in America. Wide-scale protests against racism and police brutality as well as civic unrest have made it impossible for the nation (and the world) to ignore the consequences of a long history of racism and racist violence. As many people confront hard truths that black Americans have faced daily in this country, the need for education about the history of the long and ongoing fight for racial justice is critical.

While there are many worthwhile books about race and anti-racism, there are also plenty of resources to be found in other mediums, like film, with much to teach viewers about this history. Below, Ashley Clark, Director of Film Programming at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and his colleague Jesse Trussell, BAM’s Repertory and Specialty Film Programmer, recommend, in their own words, a dozen feature films and documentaries that help contextualize the current moment.

The Battle of Algiers (1966)

“A lot of these films were works of art, but they were also very importantly used as political agitprop themselves,” says Trussell of Gillo Pontecorvo’s 1966 historical drama drawn from the Algerian War. “Revolutionaries around the world studied The Battle of Algiers almost like a textbook for how you could potentially have this armed resistance within different spaces, and that idea frequently crosses over to this moment that we’re talking about, where it’s art, it’s political, it’s both an organizing tool and a personal reflection—it’s all of these things at once. It’s a real hallmark of this revolutionary kind of cinema.”

Where to watch: Amazon Prime, YouTube

The Murder of Fred Hampton (1971)

“This documentary is about a 19-year-old Black Panther leader from Chicago who was one of the great inspiring speakers of the 20th century and was cut down in his youth by the FBI and the Chicago police department,” Trussell says. “It directly gets back to this idea of the ways that black dissent and black protest has been destroyed and bodies have been murdered and that process keeps repeating itself over and over again. The film isn’t that easy to [find], which speaks to the fact that with so much of the history of black radical cinema on-screen, it’s not always as easy as going to Netflix and queuing up five films in a row. These are frequently films that were suppressed, that have had secondary or minor distribution—and that’s a major part of the narrative of black radical cinema.”

Where to watch: Amazon Prime, Films for Action

Blacks Brittanica (1978)

The documentary Blacks Britannica, commissioned by PBS in Boston in 1978, examines racism through the lens of black, working-class Brits and includes interviews with several black activists. “It was American-produced, but it was heavily censored in the U.S. and banned outright in the U.K.,” explains Clark. Clark and Trussell make the point that “work that is truthful is often suppressed. The international language is often suppressed.”

Where to watch: YouTube

Handsworth Songs (1986)

“There are a bunch of films from the late ’70s and ’80s that are really important documentaries about civil unrest and police brutality in the U.K.,” Clark says. “The key one is called Handsworth Songs, directed by John Akomfrah and the Black Audio Film Collective.” The film, described when screened at BAM last year as a “freeform documentary mosaic,” uses the 1985 Handsworth riots in Birmingham, England, to examine broader racial tensions in the country.

Where to watch: YouTube

Do the Right Thing (1989)

“The film begins as a languid comedy set on the hottest day of the year, but the tensions build and it ends up in mass civil unrest, kicked off by Spike Lee himself—[Mookie], the character he plays—throwing a garbage can through the window after Radio Raheem [Bill Nunn] is choked by the cops,” Clark says of Lee’s acclaimed 1989 movie. “It’s really interesting to go back and read the responses to the film at the time, which seemed to focus more on the destruction of property than the death of Radio Raheem—and that was, ostensibly, liberal critics. It’s amazing to see those patterns repeat now, specifically in the discourse of people focusing more on the destruction of property than on lives that are lost. The film also ends with contrasting quotes on the use of violence as self-defense vs. the use of non-violence with Malcom [X] and Martin [Luther King, Jr.].”

Clark adds that Do The Right Thing is also timely “precisely because it ends on a moment of irresolvable tension, because this is not a problem that can be solved easily. That’s what I think elevates it above so many other films of its time that try to examine [the same themes], because many put a white character as a proxy—I’m thinking of things like Mississippi Burning, which came out the year before—so much of the Hollywood way was to put a white crossover character in the way to make it palatable or to force a clearly legible reading. Do the Right Thing doesn’t do that. And for that particular reason, I think it’s the ultimate film for this moment. Its relevance continues to grow, if anything.”

Where to watch: YouTube, Vudu, Google Play, iTunes, Amazon Prime

Malcom X (1992)

“To return to Spike Lee, Malcolm X, which is a big film from 1992, integrates footage of the Rodney King beating into the main credits,” Clark says of the film, for which Denzel Washington received an Oscar nomination. “Lee is someone who has always been unafraid to integrate and intercut extremely contemporary things, which at the time can sometimes feel a little bit like he’s overdoing it or he’s too on-the-nose, but then the longer that racism goes unaddressed or gets worse, the more timely and powerful his films seem to become.” (Lee employs a similar tactic in 2018’s BlacKkKlansman, which concludes with footage of the prior year’s Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville.)

Where to watch: Netflix, YouTube, iTunes, Google Play, Vudu, Amazon Prime

The Glass Shield (1994)

“There’s a really great film by the great filmmaker Charles Burnett called The Glass Shield, which is about a young black man [Michael Boatman] going into the LAPD with sort of high hopes about what he can do there and then seeing, from inside, the nature of the systemic corruption and how that can even infect him as a black man inside this space,” Trussell says. He adds that the movie, made a few years after the 1992 Los Angeles riots following the acquittal of the four officers involved in the beating of Rodney King, addresses the concept of “policing as something that crosses all color lines within the police forces themselves.”

Where to watch: YouTube, Amazon Prime, Vudu, Google Play, iTunes

Fruitvale Station (2013)

Clark finds Ryan Coogler’s 2013 film about Oscar Grant interesting “because it was very concerned with upending the idea of the young black man as ‘thug’ stereotype. It was a very sensitive portrait of this man on the last day of his life, and that felt like a very necessary corrective, given how black people are so often portrayed in the media. Obviously, Coogler has gone on to do great things and much bigger things [like Creed and Black Panther], but that’s a film that’s not spoken of so much. It’s a really notable attempt to breathe life back into someone who was taken—and that’s valuable.”

Where to watch: Tubi, YouTube, Google Play, Vudu, Amazon Prime, iTunes

Selma (2014)

Ava DuVernay’s historical drama about the 1965 Selma to Montgomery Marches, starring David Oyelowo as Martin Luther King, Jr., “is obviously a period film, but something that really struck me about it was how focused it was on the process of direct action,” says Clark. “While there are a couple of big Hollywood moments, a lot of the film takes place in back rooms and churches, with people talking about how to make this happen. That was only a few years ago, but it seems strikingly relevant.”

Where to watch: Youtube, Google Play, Vudu, Amazon Prime, iTunes

13th (2016)

Clark calls 13th, also by DuVernay, “a really solid documentary that got to the heart of the origins of America’s carceral state.” The briskly paced movie traces the mass incarceration of black men back to the ratification of the 13th Amendment in 1865. In an interview with TIME at the time of its release, DuVernay explained why she crammed so much history into a brief watch: “It’s hard enough to get a national conversation in America going about race in a meaningful way, that’s not in reaction to something bad happening.”

Where to watch: Netflix

I Am Not Your Negro (2017)

“I Am Not Your Negro, by the Haitian filmmaker Raoul Peck, is a propulsive documentary about James Baldwin, his writings and his times,” says Clark. In her review of the film, which includes many clips of Baldwin and narration by Samuel L. Jackson, reading an unfinished book project by Baldwin, TIME’s critic Stephanie Zacharek wrote that “Peck’s aim seems to be to reintroduce Baldwin and his way of thinking to the world. Not that Baldwin is forgotten, but sometimes we need a bold red arrow to help us redirect our thinking, especially in a media world as cluttered and noisy as ours.”

Where to watch: Youtube, Google Play, Vudu, Amazon Prime, iTunes

Whose Streets? (2017)

This documentary, says Clark, is “essentially about the Black Lives Matter uprisings in Ferguson, a record of the demonstrations. Its filmmakers [Sabaah Foloyan and Damon Davis], who were there on the ground, fashioned a very raw, boots-on-the-ground record of activism and community building in process.” Adds Trussell: “It does an incredible job of spotlighting the women and queer people who were central organizers in that movement and making sure that their stories are not erased from the history of Black Lives Matter.”

Where to watch: Hulu, Amazon Prime, YouTube, Google, Vudu

[pitz182]

My Recovery Journey: From Trauma and Abuse to Understanding and Forgiveness

I always wanted to be a writer. I started writing in the fifth grade and wrote many short stories. I lacked imagination (or maybe it was too vivid, I’m not sure), and so I took my inspiration from stories already written. Most of what I wrote as a child was straight out of Judy Blume books. I couldn’t have picked characters more different from my own family.In Blume’s books, even the most challenging issues were always solved with a hug and a huge dose of love and encouragement. I would share these stories I “wrote” with my class and not only was it obvious I’d stolen the plots from Blume’s books, but nobody was fooled that my home life resembled these Leave It To Beaver-esque families.The black and blues on my little body had a way of telling a different story.A Concerned TeacherAfter about the fourth or fifth story, trying to pass off some fictional family as my own, my teacher—who’d taught my two older brothers before me—asked me to stay after class. He asked if everything at home was okay. He knew my brothers were hellions, the products of an abusive father and a drink-at-home mom.Unlike my brothers, though, I was a good girl. I had never once acted out—until that day. I had learned how to stay out of the way of my father’s explosive trigger hand. I was also a master at avoiding my mother after her third glass of “candy.”I felt cornered. I had to get out of there.I looked at my teacher square in the eyes and said, “You have no fucking clue what’s going on in my home. Stay the fuck away from me!” I flipped over a few chairs and desks before I grabbed my knapsack and ran out of his classroom. I was kind of half-crying, half-raging. I had never become unglued before. I was always the one my parents could count on to be polite and obedient, no matter what.My oldest brother was waiting for me outside school. He noticed I was on the verge of hyperventilating.“What happened?” Marco* asked.“Mr. Brendel asked if things were okay at home. I don’t know why he thought that. I have never been anything but what everyone expects me to be. What’s happening??”“I’ll take care of it,” Marco told me.And he did. I was never in trouble over the incident, and two days later Mr. Brendel apologized and we never discussed it again. Marco told me grownups weren’t stupid, and they knew things weren’t as peachy at home as they were in my fairytale stories. And then he said something that scared me: “Adults are going to want to help you. Accept their help. At some point I won’t be able to protect you.”My Brother’s Advice“What do you mean? You’ll always be here to protect me.” I fought back tears.“I won’t, Sarah. One day you’ll have to make your own decisions, and all I can do is guide you to make the best ones—for you and nobody else. I’ll be here as long as I can, but the sooner you can be independent, the better. One day you’ll wake up and see how fucked up things are at home. Don’t fear that day. Welcome it and get help.”I continued as the dutiful little girl living in my bubble and writing stories about people who bore no resemblance to my family. But when I turned 16, I decided I didn’t want to live at home after I graduated. Both my brothers were already out of the house.I looked into having myself emancipated. I even talked with a lawyer. While my brothers were tired of carrying the weight of responsibility, I was ready to be an adult, living on my own.My godmother and aunt convinced me to defer college for a year. Instead, they recommended therapy. I was reminded of the conversation I’d had with Marco outside my elementary school years earlier, so I took their advice.I graduated from high school and got a job in a photocopy shop. I paid for therapy and, by working six days a week, I saved enough for first and last month’s rent and a security deposit on a future apartment.I moved out of my parents’ house when I was 17, but it wasn’t exactly how I’d planned. I got this bug up my ass to do an intervention on my mother, but I had no idea what I was doing. It blew up in my face with my mother kicking me out of the house. Talk about an epic fail.But it was the first time I realized how protective of one’s addiction someone can be.I was estranged from both of my brothers and my parents. It felt right. I was (and still am) eternally grateful to my oldest brother for taking care of me growing up, but he’d started drinking heavily—like our mom. And the other one had graduated to bigger and badder drugs. He discovered cocaine.PTSD and an Abusive RelationshipWhile in therapy, I was diagnosed with PTSD and a panic disorder. As my brother promised, just because I pushed all that shit away didn’t mean it never happened. As my mom used to say all the time, “You push it down here, it comes up there,” meaning you can run from something for only so long. I had to deal with the dysfunction I grew up in, and I had to work really hard to keep myself from repeating their mistakes.Sometimes echoes of that dysfunction showed up in my life despite my best efforts. My boyfriend at the time started using coke and became abusive. How had I chosen someone who was a perverse combination of both my parents? I was trying to figure out a way to leave without him coming for me. With his continued coke use, he was paranoid and controlling. I hadn’t communicated to him or anyone else my intention to leave but somehow, he knew.I was taking a creative writing class, and the first assignment was to write an essay using five descriptions to portray a person or an event. The professor gave us just one bit of instruction: “Show, don’t tell.” The next time I was in my boyfriend’s car, leaving Manhattan for his place in Brooklyn, I paid close attention.The tires slicked against the wet pavement; it had rained while we were in the midtown Manhattan movie theatre. Focused on the road in front of him, his left hand was on the steering wheel. He tilted his head slightly to meet the outstretched fingers on his right hand, so he could twist his newly forming dreadlocs. He turned his still tilted head very slowly to look at me. His forehead wrinkled, and his eyes like big beads of brown glass, narrowed. He peered at me from over his wireframe glasses. He said, “Mookie, I have loved you my entire life. Even before I knew you, I loved you. The thought of you no longer being in my life scares me. I can never let that happen. Besides, nobody will ever love you like I do: not your parents and definitely not your brothers.” He didn’t look at me long enough to see my reaction. He was like a dog who sensed fear and he was prepared to act on it. Now, with his eyes back on the road, his voice lacked emotion. “Mookie, I can make life for you as sweet as honey or as bitter as unsweetened cocoa. It’s all in your power.” After I finished reading my essay aloud, I looked around the classroom. The instructor and other students all had very large eyes. One student said, “Um, Sarah, that scared the shit out of me. You are planning on leaving him, aren’t you?”I wanted to leave, but I didn’t realize just how serious he was about preventing me from going. As his coke use escalated, he became more violent and things ended very badly. A few years ago, I finally admitted to people how bad things had gotten between us. My very first published piece is a personal essay about the last violent moments we were together. Trigger warning!It’s no surprise to me that even with seven years of therapy I still chose an abusive addict as a partner. What else had I known growing up the way I did? Both my parents died without any reconciliation between us. My mother, who never stopped drinking and smoked four packs of cigarettes a day, died suddenly of a stroke when I was 27. My father died eight years later of cancer. I never had the chance to reconcile with my mother, so I tried very hard to correct this with my father. But it takes two people, and he wasn’t willing.Understanding and ForgivenessAlthough I hadn’t consciously chosen an addict for a partner, I understand why I did. People have asked me whether I blame my mother, brothers, and my ex-boyfriend. Much as I want to, I can’t. There are many misconceptions about growing up in a home with an addict or an alcoholic, and while it might seem my brothers embody all those misconceptions, I also know for a fact that nobody chooses to become an addict and that many times it’s the result of trying to escape the realities of one’s surroundings. I believe my mother drank because she married a mean and abusive person who prevented her from realizing her dream of being a writer. Given the environment I grew up in and the likelihood of an inherited gene, I could easily have become an alcoholic. Because I had relatives who intervened and I started therapy early on, I believe I was spared and that I must forgive rather than blame. This includes my ex-boyfriend, who saw his father get drunk every Friday night and beat the crap out of his mother.As I evolved, I became better at taking care of myself and 18 years ago, I married a really wonderful man who is the antithesis of my ex-boyfriend. He’s the only person outside of my therapist who knows my entire story.I also tried to reconcile with both my brothers. Marco quit drinking 15 years ago, so I thought there was hope. But I quickly discovered he was white-knuckling it. I think he’s still angry about losing his childhood so he could be our full-time caregiver. My other brother quit using cocaine after he overdosed, but he still drinks heavily.They both know I’ll be here when they’re ready.

[emlydunstan]

My Recovery Journey: From Trauma and Abuse to Understanding and Forgiveness

I always wanted to be a writer. I started writing in the fifth grade and wrote many short stories. I lacked imagination (or maybe it was too vivid, I’m not sure), and so I took my inspiration from stories already written. Most of what I wrote as a child was straight out of Judy Blume books. I couldn’t have picked characters more different from my own family.In Blume’s books, even the most challenging issues were always solved with a hug and a huge dose of love and encouragement. I would share these stories I “wrote” with my class and not only was it obvious I’d stolen the plots from Blume’s books, but nobody was fooled that my home life resembled these Leave It To Beaver-esque families.The black and blues on my little body had a way of telling a different story.A Concerned TeacherAfter about the fourth or fifth story, trying to pass off some fictional family as my own, my teacher—who’d taught my two older brothers before me—asked me to stay after class. He asked if everything at home was okay. He knew my brothers were hellions, the products of an abusive father and a drink-at-home mom.Unlike my brothers, though, I was a good girl. I had never once acted out—until that day. I had learned how to stay out of the way of my father’s explosive trigger hand. I was also a master at avoiding my mother after her third glass of “candy.”I felt cornered. I had to get out of there.I looked at my teacher square in the eyes and said, “You have no fucking clue what’s going on in my home. Stay the fuck away from me!” I flipped over a few chairs and desks before I grabbed my knapsack and ran out of his classroom. I was kind of half-crying, half-raging. I had never become unglued before. I was always the one my parents could count on to be polite and obedient, no matter what.My oldest brother was waiting for me outside school. He noticed I was on the verge of hyperventilating.“What happened?” Marco* asked.“Mr. Brendel asked if things were okay at home. I don’t know why he thought that. I have never been anything but what everyone expects me to be. What’s happening??”“I’ll take care of it,” Marco told me.And he did. I was never in trouble over the incident, and two days later Mr. Brendel apologized and we never discussed it again. Marco told me grownups weren’t stupid, and they knew things weren’t as peachy at home as they were in my fairytale stories. And then he said something that scared me: “Adults are going to want to help you. Accept their help. At some point I won’t be able to protect you.”My Brother’s Advice“What do you mean? You’ll always be here to protect me.” I fought back tears.“I won’t, Sarah. One day you’ll have to make your own decisions, and all I can do is guide you to make the best ones—for you and nobody else. I’ll be here as long as I can, but the sooner you can be independent, the better. One day you’ll wake up and see how fucked up things are at home. Don’t fear that day. Welcome it and get help.”I continued as the dutiful little girl living in my bubble and writing stories about people who bore no resemblance to my family. But when I turned 16, I decided I didn’t want to live at home after I graduated. Both my brothers were already out of the house.I looked into having myself emancipated. I even talked with a lawyer. While my brothers were tired of carrying the weight of responsibility, I was ready to be an adult, living on my own.My godmother and aunt convinced me to defer college for a year. Instead, they recommended therapy. I was reminded of the conversation I’d had with Marco outside my elementary school years earlier, so I took their advice.I graduated from high school and got a job in a photocopy shop. I paid for therapy and, by working six days a week, I saved enough for first and last month’s rent and a security deposit on a future apartment.I moved out of my parents’ house when I was 17, but it wasn’t exactly how I’d planned. I got this bug up my ass to do an intervention on my mother, but I had no idea what I was doing. It blew up in my face with my mother kicking me out of the house. Talk about an epic fail.But it was the first time I realized how protective of one’s addiction someone can be.I was estranged from both of my brothers and my parents. It felt right. I was (and still am) eternally grateful to my oldest brother for taking care of me growing up, but he’d started drinking heavily—like our mom. And the other one had graduated to bigger and badder drugs. He discovered cocaine.PTSD and an Abusive RelationshipWhile in therapy, I was diagnosed with PTSD and a panic disorder. As my brother promised, just because I pushed all that shit away didn’t mean it never happened. As my mom used to say all the time, “You push it down here, it comes up there,” meaning you can run from something for only so long. I had to deal with the dysfunction I grew up in, and I had to work really hard to keep myself from repeating their mistakes.Sometimes echoes of that dysfunction showed up in my life despite my best efforts. My boyfriend at the time started using coke and became abusive. How had I chosen someone who was a perverse combination of both my parents? I was trying to figure out a way to leave without him coming for me. With his continued coke use, he was paranoid and controlling. I hadn’t communicated to him or anyone else my intention to leave but somehow, he knew.I was taking a creative writing class, and the first assignment was to write an essay using five descriptions to portray a person or an event. The professor gave us just one bit of instruction: “Show, don’t tell.” The next time I was in my boyfriend’s car, leaving Manhattan for his place in Brooklyn, I paid close attention.The tires slicked against the wet pavement; it had rained while we were in the midtown Manhattan movie theatre. Focused on the road in front of him, his left hand was on the steering wheel. He tilted his head slightly to meet the outstretched fingers on his right hand, so he could twist his newly forming dreadlocs. He turned his still tilted head very slowly to look at me. His forehead wrinkled, and his eyes like big beads of brown glass, narrowed. He peered at me from over his wireframe glasses. He said, “Mookie, I have loved you my entire life. Even before I knew you, I loved you. The thought of you no longer being in my life scares me. I can never let that happen. Besides, nobody will ever love you like I do: not your parents and definitely not your brothers.” He didn’t look at me long enough to see my reaction. He was like a dog who sensed fear and he was prepared to act on it. Now, with his eyes back on the road, his voice lacked emotion. “Mookie, I can make life for you as sweet as honey or as bitter as unsweetened cocoa. It’s all in your power.” After I finished reading my essay aloud, I looked around the classroom. The instructor and other students all had very large eyes. One student said, “Um, Sarah, that scared the shit out of me. You are planning on leaving him, aren’t you?”I wanted to leave, but I didn’t realize just how serious he was about preventing me from going. As his coke use escalated, he became more violent and things ended very badly. A few years ago, I finally admitted to people how bad things had gotten between us. My very first published piece is a personal essay about the last violent moments we were together. Trigger warning!It’s no surprise to me that even with seven years of therapy I still chose an abusive addict as a partner. What else had I known growing up the way I did? Both my parents died without any reconciliation between us. My mother, who never stopped drinking and smoked four packs of cigarettes a day, died suddenly of a stroke when I was 27. My father died eight years later of cancer. I never had the chance to reconcile with my mother, so I tried very hard to correct this with my father. But it takes two people, and he wasn’t willing.Understanding and ForgivenessAlthough I hadn’t consciously chosen an addict for a partner, I understand why I did. People have asked me whether I blame my mother, brothers, and my ex-boyfriend. Much as I want to, I can’t. There are many misconceptions about growing up in a home with an addict or an alcoholic, and while it might seem my brothers embody all those misconceptions, I also know for a fact that nobody chooses to become an addict and that many times it’s the result of trying to escape the realities of one’s surroundings. I believe my mother drank because she married a mean and abusive person who prevented her from realizing her dream of being a writer. Given the environment I grew up in and the likelihood of an inherited gene, I could easily have become an alcoholic. Because I had relatives who intervened and I started therapy early on, I believe I was spared and that I must forgive rather than blame. This includes my ex-boyfriend, who saw his father get drunk every Friday night and beat the crap out of his mother.As I evolved, I became better at taking care of myself and 18 years ago, I married a really wonderful man who is the antithesis of my ex-boyfriend. He’s the only person outside of my therapist who knows my entire story.I also tried to reconcile with both my brothers. Marco quit drinking 15 years ago, so I thought there was hope. But I quickly discovered he was white-knuckling it. I think he’s still angry about losing his childhood so he could be our full-time caregiver. My other brother quit using cocaine after he overdosed, but he still drinks heavily.They both know I’ll be here when they’re ready.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 https://www.thefix.com/my-recovery-journey-trauma-and-abuse-understanding-and-forgiveness

[alexdmorgan30]

My Recovery Journey: From Trauma and Abuse to Understanding and Forgiveness

I always wanted to be a writer. I started writing in the fifth grade and wrote many short stories. I lacked imagination (or maybe it was too vivid, I’m not sure), and so I took my inspiration from stories already written. Most of what I wrote as a child was straight out of Judy Blume books. I couldn’t have picked characters more different from my own family.In Blume’s books, even the most challenging issues were always solved with a hug and a huge dose of love and encouragement. I would share these stories I “wrote” with my class and not only was it obvious I’d stolen the plots from Blume’s books, but nobody was fooled that my home life resembled these Leave It To Beaver-esque families.The black and blues on my little body had a way of telling a different story.A Concerned TeacherAfter about the fourth or fifth story, trying to pass off some fictional family as my own, my teacher—who’d taught my two older brothers before me—asked me to stay after class. He asked if everything at home was okay. He knew my brothers were hellions, the products of an abusive father and a drink-at-home mom.Unlike my brothers, though, I was a good girl. I had never once acted out—until that day. I had learned how to stay out of the way of my father’s explosive trigger hand. I was also a master at avoiding my mother after her third glass of “candy.”I felt cornered. I had to get out of there.I looked at my teacher square in the eyes and said, “You have no fucking clue what’s going on in my home. Stay the fuck away from me!” I flipped over a few chairs and desks before I grabbed my knapsack and ran out of his classroom. I was kind of half-crying, half-raging. I had never become unglued before. I was always the one my parents could count on to be polite and obedient, no matter what.My oldest brother was waiting for me outside school. He noticed I was on the verge of hyperventilating.“What happened?” Marco* asked.“Mr. Brendel asked if things were okay at home. I don’t know why he thought that. I have never been anything but what everyone expects me to be. What’s happening??”“I’ll take care of it,” Marco told me.And he did. I was never in trouble over the incident, and two days later Mr. Brendel apologized and we never discussed it again. Marco told me grownups weren’t stupid, and they knew things weren’t as peachy at home as they were in my fairytale stories. And then he said something that scared me: “Adults are going to want to help you. Accept their help. At some point I won’t be able to protect you.”My Brother’s Advice“What do you mean? You’ll always be here to protect me.” I fought back tears.“I won’t, Sarah. One day you’ll have to make your own decisions, and all I can do is guide you to make the best ones—for you and nobody else. I’ll be here as long as I can, but the sooner you can be independent, the better. One day you’ll wake up and see how fucked up things are at home. Don’t fear that day. Welcome it and get help.”I continued as the dutiful little girl living in my bubble and writing stories about people who bore no resemblance to my family. But when I turned 16, I decided I didn’t want to live at home after I graduated. Both my brothers were already out of the house.I looked into having myself emancipated. I even talked with a lawyer. While my brothers were tired of carrying the weight of responsibility, I was ready to be an adult, living on my own.My godmother and aunt convinced me to defer college for a year. Instead, they recommended therapy. I was reminded of the conversation I’d had with Marco outside my elementary school years earlier, so I took their advice.I graduated from high school and got a job in a photocopy shop. I paid for therapy and, by working six days a week, I saved enough for first and last month’s rent and a security deposit on a future apartment.I moved out of my parents’ house when I was 17, but it wasn’t exactly how I’d planned. I got this bug up my ass to do an intervention on my mother, but I had no idea what I was doing. It blew up in my face with my mother kicking me out of the house. Talk about an epic fail.But it was the first time I realized how protective of one’s addiction someone can be.I was estranged from both of my brothers and my parents. It felt right. I was (and still am) eternally grateful to my oldest brother for taking care of me growing up, but he’d started drinking heavily—like our mom. And the other one had graduated to bigger and badder drugs. He discovered cocaine.PTSD and an Abusive RelationshipWhile in therapy, I was diagnosed with PTSD and a panic disorder. As my brother promised, just because I pushed all that shit away didn’t mean it never happened. As my mom used to say all the time, “You push it down here, it comes up there,” meaning you can run from something for only so long. I had to deal with the dysfunction I grew up in, and I had to work really hard to keep myself from repeating their mistakes.Sometimes echoes of that dysfunction showed up in my life despite my best efforts. My boyfriend at the time started using coke and became abusive. How had I chosen someone who was a perverse combination of both my parents? I was trying to figure out a way to leave without him coming for me. With his continued coke use, he was paranoid and controlling. I hadn’t communicated to him or anyone else my intention to leave but somehow, he knew.I was taking a creative writing class, and the first assignment was to write an essay using five descriptions to portray a person or an event. The professor gave us just one bit of instruction: “Show, don’t tell.” The next time I was in my boyfriend’s car, leaving Manhattan for his place in Brooklyn, I paid close attention.The tires slicked against the wet pavement; it had rained while we were in the midtown Manhattan movie theatre. Focused on the road in front of him, his left hand was on the steering wheel. He tilted his head slightly to meet the outstretched fingers on his right hand, so he could twist his newly forming dreadlocs. He turned his still tilted head very slowly to look at me. His forehead wrinkled, and his eyes like big beads of brown glass, narrowed. He peered at me from over his wireframe glasses. He said, “Mookie, I have loved you my entire life. Even before I knew you, I loved you. The thought of you no longer being in my life scares me. I can never let that happen. Besides, nobody will ever love you like I do: not your parents and definitely not your brothers.” He didn’t look at me long enough to see my reaction. He was like a dog who sensed fear and he was prepared to act on it. Now, with his eyes back on the road, his voice lacked emotion. “Mookie, I can make life for you as sweet as honey or as bitter as unsweetened cocoa. It’s all in your power.” After I finished reading my essay aloud, I looked around the classroom. The instructor and other students all had very large eyes. One student said, “Um, Sarah, that scared the shit out of me. You are planning on leaving him, aren’t you?”I wanted to leave, but I didn’t realize just how serious he was about preventing me from going. As his coke use escalated, he became more violent and things ended very badly. A few years ago, I finally admitted to people how bad things had gotten between us. My very first published piece is a personal essay about the last violent moments we were together. Trigger warning!It’s no surprise to me that even with seven years of therapy I still chose an abusive addict as a partner. What else had I known growing up the way I did? Both my parents died without any reconciliation between us. My mother, who never stopped drinking and smoked four packs of cigarettes a day, died suddenly of a stroke when I was 27. My father died eight years later of cancer. I never had the chance to reconcile with my mother, so I tried very hard to correct this with my father. But it takes two people, and he wasn’t willing.Understanding and ForgivenessAlthough I hadn’t consciously chosen an addict for a partner, I understand why I did. People have asked me whether I blame my mother, brothers, and my ex-boyfriend. Much as I want to, I can’t. There are many misconceptions about growing up in a home with an addict or an alcoholic, and while it might seem my brothers embody all those misconceptions, I also know for a fact that nobody chooses to become an addict and that many times it’s the result of trying to escape the realities of one’s surroundings. I believe my mother drank because she married a mean and abusive person who prevented her from realizing her dream of being a writer. Given the environment I grew up in and the likelihood of an inherited gene, I could easily have become an alcoholic. Because I had relatives who intervened and I started therapy early on, I believe I was spared and that I must forgive rather than blame. This includes my ex-boyfriend, who saw his father get drunk every Friday night and beat the crap out of his mother.As I evolved, I became better at taking care of myself and 18 years ago, I married a really wonderful man who is the antithesis of my ex-boyfriend. He’s the only person outside of my therapist who knows my entire story.I also tried to reconcile with both my brothers. Marco quit drinking 15 years ago, so I thought there was hope. But I quickly discovered he was white-knuckling it. I think he’s still angry about losing his childhood so he could be our full-time caregiver. My other brother quit using cocaine after he overdosed, but he still drinks heavily.They both know I’ll be here when they’re ready.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 http://bit.ly/2GrxNQk