#I joined a Christian writing discord more recently

[p0tat0-g0ddess]

.

[dedalvs]

Hi, welcome back to Tumblr! Your Trigdasleng posts back in the day were fascinating, even though I never watched the show they're from. Keep on keepin' on.

Thank you! It's good to be back, and this is as good a place as any to talk about why I'm here and what I'm doing.

First, I left Tumblr when many others did when they instituted their infamous "female-presenting nipple" policy. It's not as if my Tumblr was ever a nsfw blog, or as if I had any female-presenting nipples, but I felt it was the wrong response to the difficult situation they'd been put in. It was something that hurt a lot of people who had a lot less of a voice and not much of a platform, and so I felt it was my responsibility to use the platform I had to take a stand, even if ultimately it didn't change anything.

As it happens, years later, Tumblr has finally reversed the policy (well done, @staff!). Tumblr may not be the wild west it used to be, but at least they aren't targeting anyone presenting a specific gender unfairly. I've missed my time away, and the people I got to know here, so I'm happy to be back!

As I see it, I'll probably be reblogging stuff less here, even though that's how I made my name way back when, and instead responding mostly to asks in my inbox.

To give myself a fresh start, I have deleted all 3,999 of my asks. I'm starting fresh���with this one, which was the first! My inbox got too overwhelming, so this was needed.

To answer some questions some may have, if you haven't followed me elsewhere recently:

I'm most active on Instagram, where I am @athdavrazar.

I have a YouTube series with partner and significant other Jessie Sams, who is @quothalinguist on Instagram. That series is called LangTime Studio, and we create a language from scratch together live on camera (we work on two hours a week every Thursday at 2 p.m. Pacific).

Jessie and I work together almost exclusively now, and we've done work on Freeform's Motherland: Fort Salem (which I hope you loved, Tumblr!), Peacock's Vampire Academy, the second season of Shadow and Bone (forthcoming), Amazon's Paper Girls (though you can blink and miss our stuff), and the second Dune film.

I worked on HBO's House of the Dragon, and got to create a writing system for High Valyrian, which I'm very excited about.

I created the Sangheili language for Paramount+'s Halo with Carl Buck, who is on Instagram as @tlacamazatl (he's on Tumblr as @tlacamazatl too!). We are presently working on season 2.

I worked with Christian Thalmann on Shadow and Bone seasons 1 and 2. The breakdown is this: Christian and I jointly created the Fjerdan language; I created the Ravkan language and orthography as well as the Kerch and Zemeni orthographies exclusively; Jessie Sams and I created the Shu and Zemeni languages jointly; Christian created the Shu orthography. I can't wait for you to hear and see our work in season 2!

Yes, I left Twitter (quite a bit ago). I'm now more active on Discord, where I'm on a few servers.

I created a wiki for all my languages, and am unevenly working on all of them, and some languages have a team of people working on them (in particular High Valyrian).

Despite being double-vaxxed and getting not one, not two, but three boosters, I got Covid in June, and that PoS hasn't completely left me alone since. (Note: I'd only had one booster before I got it; two have come since then, including the new one, which will hopefully be the last!)

I am traveling again, so I hope to announce those here when they happen.

If there's anything I missed, you let me know. I look forward to answering asks again, and joining in the general silliness of Tumblr! <3

[christian-oc-tag-games]

Do you know if there's a Salt and Light discord server btw? I was recently thinking about making one, but idk if there is one already o3o (I only just found this blog but you seem like the person to ask lol)

hi there! I personally am not the admin of any such group but i joined some

https://discord.gg/rkvprt6a

for example, this is called Creative Christians

it`s for Christians who want to share their writing

I am in another one but I think it's more private so I won't overstep boundaries. but it, too, is for Christians who want to share their writing.

if by your question you meant a server for Christians but not necessarily writing, I'm not sure if there is one. the inklings challenge may also have one? or maybe i'm misremebering. of course, you can always make your own server with your own theme

[traumacatholic]

Someone last night asked if I would pray for them, and I just want to make it clear that I am always happy to receive prayer requests (anonymously or not). This isn’t just reserved for Catholics, you are always welcome to ask for prayers, and don’t worry about feeling like it’s a silly thing to ask for prayers. 

If you’re interested in giving prayer a go and you’ve never done it before, I’m always happy to offer some advice or link you to some resources about prayer. If you want to pray about a particular topic but want a pre-written prayer (e.g. one written by a Saint), then I’d be happy to help you find some that may be suitable. 

I’ve recently set up ‘Catholic Resources’ (This is where I tag free books, confession resources, Rosary guides etc) and ‘Mental health / Disability resources’ (this is going to be strictly for resources, information, and advice on mental health + disabilities, I’m putting these under one tag for convenience) on my page. And I’m more than happy to try and help you find extra resources or information. 

We now have a Discord Server dedicated to discussions of faith, as well as being a general hangout space for Christians and non-Christians alike to talk about a range of things such as writing, gaming, entertainment and more. Anyone of any faith (or agnostics / atheists) are more than welcome to join and get involved, provided they’re respectful! 

[mxvladdy]

Shake On It

This is an older original work I wrote for a writing prompt given to me on a writing discord I’m on. I really liked it!

Ironically it also pertains to the Christian mythos and such, but is in no way affiliated with Obey Me lmao 

Prompt:  traveling bible salesman, death of a family member and bouns round- a time machine.

Hope y’all like! I might add to this later on. I got a lot of fanfics and original projects I’m working on as it lol.

Down on your luck? At the end of your rope? Sister's funeral not going as planned?

We've all been there.

Perhaps I can offer you a hand? Promise it's worth it.

Thin smiles and fake condolences. It was all really one could expect under the circumstances, really. You and your sister hadn’t-well- weren’t the most well-received individuals on your family tree. But she deserved better than this, some stale flowers and a note. You had stormed from the viewing room near tears, the only two relatives who had shown looking after you. They had been less than tactful in saying that no one else was coming. Not even your parents were there. So, instead of watching over your twin’s ashes, you sat crying next to the funeral home's rusty dumpster.

How fitting.

Did no one care that familial blood had been spilt? A cold body and no leads and they just shrug it off? You sniff, lips trembling around an unlit cigarette, numb and lost as to what to do next.

“Need a light?” Reedy fingers flick out beneath your nose and pluck the stick from your slack lips.

You jerk your chin up in shock, more surprised that you hadn’t heard them approaching. “Oi!” Your eyes squint as they snap up toward the setting sun. Your uninvited visitor is perfectly shadowed by the low light. They tisk, ignoring you in favor of sniffing your cheap smoke before flicking it to the ground as if it had personally offended them.

“I swear,” they scoff, fumbling in their pockets. Their soft accent is unrecognizable to your ear. “On a day like this. You deserve better, no?” Their hand stops at their chest with a soft gasp. “Ah! Here we are, here we are!” The stranger’s silhouette produces something from an unseen pocket with a grant flourish, offering it out to you.

“A lolli?” You take it from them in a daze, twirling the bright yellow candy between your fingers. You eye them quizzically.  It seemed like an odd practice for a funeral home to do. You knew they hadn’t been at the wake. Their form was taller and lankier than the few guests or staff that had been milling about. Did they work in the back with the bodies, perhaps? Out on their 15? You eye their scuffed oxfords and old mud clinging to their khaki pants.

The stranger chuckles, an oddly deep one for their stature. “But of course! Better for you in the long run. Believe you me, lungs full of ash are quite unpleasant.” You stare blankly up at them. What? “Might I join you for a tick? You look like you could use some company.” They continue nodding their head toward the empty space beside you.

“Can’t stop you.” You sigh popping the sickly yellow lolli into your mouth. The flavor catches you off guard. Hands flying up flap uselessly at your burning cheeks. You gag, only swallowing down your initial shock. Chili and lemon? Who the hell…

“Shock to the system huh?” They laugh at your teary-eyed glare. “I find a bit of contrast clears the mind.”

“I guess.” You cough as you thump your chest hard. Wiping at your teary eyes, you get a better look at them. You were correct in your assumption that you had never seen this person till now.

They smile at you patiently, knowing exactly what you were doing. They seemed normal enough. Unkempt hair and thick glasses. Gangly knees draw close to their chest. A rumpled white button-up tent like on their frame. Sleeves pushed up to show off their knobby elbows. Their tawny skin was spattered with freckles, crossing from high cheekbone to high cheekbone. The freckles were interrupted in their smooth transition across their face by a jagged edge on the wide bridge of their nose. From a distance, the crook of their nose wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this close, you recognize the look of a break long since healed. Its off-centered placement only emphasizes their lopsided grin. Their teeth, though, are surprisingly flawless. Their canines flash predatorily off of the security lights as the sun finally sets.

“My condolences.” They cut through your musing, popping a candy in their mouth as well. “I assume you are part of the party inside?” You follow their pointed finger to the door.

“Yes.” You nod and readjust your posture, mind back on your sorrows. They hum noncommittally, finger tapping their nose deep in thought. “It’s my sister- was- my sister.” You explain. “Her landlord found her last week in her bathroom. Coroner says the wounds were self-inflicted.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” You scowl. You were gonna make it big together, if for no other reason than to thumb your noses at the family that threw you aside. Didn’t know how yet, but you thought you had all the time in the world to figure it out. “We had a plan. Leaving all our work unfinished? It isn’t like her.” They nod, letting the silence draw out between you. The cicadas filling the emptiness.

“What are you planning now?” they ask. The words tickle in your ear, temping thoughts you had long since buried. You knew what you wanted. You wanted revenge, to find and destroy whoever took her away from you. To take your family to task and prove to them that you both had been worth a damn.

“Therapy and a potted plant.” You lie easily, resting your back on the chain link fence. They laugh loudly head thrown back from the power of it. It grates at you.

“Oh, my dear~” They wipe at their eyes, chortling. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a millennium.” They clear their throat after a bit, brushing at some imaginary dust on their arm. “No need to lie to me. Such peace is not in human nature.” You bristle, wanting to argue, but something holds your tongue. “Perhaps I might have what you seek?” They pull an old briefcase out from behind them. You gape, brows threatening to disappear into your hairline.

It all clicks, as sudden as a blown light bulb. The clothes and glasses. The aversion to smoking. The pushiness. Unbelievable. “You aren’t-no. No!” It was your turn to laugh, the sound bouncing around the back alley. “A freakin’ Bible salesman!?”   You lose it, slapping their knee while clutching your stomach and gasping in the sour air. “Oh my God! What, did you get lost on your way to a 60’s convention?”

“Yes, yes. It is quite out of vogue in these times, isn’t it? We had to take a more hands-on approach in recent years. The old lore just doesn’t hold up like it used to.” Their chuckle patting the case, thumbs popping the locks. “But I assure you my book is just what you need.” You stop laughing. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head finally starting to take over.

“Listen- with all due respect."

“Please,” they snap, their tone turning sharp and businesslike. “Lying just insults both of us here.” They hand you the case, nodding at you to open it. “Give it a look. I know you want to.” They lean close then, placing a hand on top of yours. The shadows of the overhead light elongate the digits. Candy sweet breath tickles the fine hairs on your face. “And if the book doesn’t entice you, perhaps a deal might?”

You pop the lid.

The sole occupant of the case lounges on an ornate cushion. The rich blue velvet is inlaid with silver thread and beads, the ornate geometric stitching painstakingly done by some poor sod years ago. Frankly, it looked like a lot of flash and theatrics for a rather ugly book. The leather bound cover is bereft of any discernible writing or art. Despite its apparent age, the paper within is crisp. It's bone white color contrasts harshly with the gold ink used on it.

“I can’t read this.” You look up confused by the random string of symbols and letters. The Bible salesman shrugs, picking at a cuticle.

“You sure? Try again.” Their nonchalant demeanor befuddles you.

“Yes, I’m sure. What kind of mor-'' You glance down at the book again, the leather warming in your palm despite the cool night air. The symbols are the same but it all seems so familiar to you now. Book of The Dawnstar.

“Is this a joke?” You already know the answer. The unnatural warmth and pulsing from the book bring the nerves in your stomach to a sickening curl, tipping you off. But, you don't want to say the word. Magic was a stupid fairy tale made for the big screen.

“Does it feel like a joke?” They ask, lips curling.

“What do you want?” You shut the book with a snap, placing it back in its case. You weren't liking where this was going, but were intrigued all the same.

“Well~ I thought it was self-explanatory.” They take the book back out, fingers going over the front’s cover in odd swirls and dips. Your eyes follow the trail left by their fingers. “Striking deals used to be so much easier, I swear.” They point at you, then at themselves. “I can feel the rage. It called me here. You want answers; more importantly to me, you want revenge. I can help. All you need to do is make a deal with me. You know the saying.”

“For-for real?” You can hardly believe it. This is a prank-or a fever dream. It’s the only explanation. No demon or devils, or stupid magic bullshit. Someone would find you soon, passed out from the stress back here.

“Dream or not, what would it hurt to try?”

“What would it hurt!” you laugh in disbelief. “You know in Bible school they say not to make deals with devils.”

“Pfft.” They wave off the comment. “I’m wounded! Half those fools get the language twisted anyway. Devil, Satan, and my name are not interchangeable . I’m not some low level sprite begging for souls.”

“Why come to me then?” you ask. They shrug, fingers slowing to a stop over their book. “Wouldn’t some--I don’t know--Christian soul be tastier or something?” You begin to panic. The look of exasperation you get in return stops you from losing it completely.

“Is that what they teach these days? Heh, Gabriel must be ringing his halo. But if those stupid little superstitions are whats stopping you from what we both know you desire, let me rectify that.” They rise to their feet, far more elegantly then their appearance would lead you to believe was possible. A haze covers them, the shadows around you seemingly clinging to their body as they turn. “A formal introduction then. Dawnstar, Lucifer. The light bringer, rebel, and protector of those under my eyes.” They bow, baggy clothes replaced with elegant robes of navy. All gangly awkwardness gone in the wake of sheer power. “And you are exactly the entertainment I’m looking for.”

“Entertainment?” You sputter, sinking back as far as you can into the fence behind you. You were sure if you should be insulted or not by the notion. “So you don’t want my soul?”  

Lucifer rolls two of their many eyes. “I have bigger, quite frankly purer souls, for that. But they are all rather boring to follow around till they croak. Besides, despite what sweet old pastor Dale says, I am empathetic--to a certain degree. You are right in your assumption that your twin did not take her own life. So I’m offering you a chance to meddle.”

You ponder over the words, mind racing as your spirit soars. This was impossible. “So I can-- what, like wish her back? A soul for a soul?” You rise to your feet, knees shaking as the heavy gaze of the fallen angel bares into you.

“Ugh. Figured you’d say something like that,” Lucifer groans, rolling their neck. “And the answer is no.”

“What? Why!” you snap, heart seizing. You jab a finger at their chest. The cold radiating off of them stops you from getting any closer. “You said you would help!”

They step back, smirking as you rub at your frostbitten finger. “Live and learn, I guess?” Lucifer turns, looking up into the bug-infested sky. “You humans always try that martyr shtick. ‘Oh, trade me for them, please!’. Turns into a never ending headache I’m contractually obligated to help with. Plus, it’s rather boring.”

You sputter. “Excuse me?” Lucifer looks at you, blinking coyly.

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, such clichés get grating every couple of centuries. You, my girl, just have the misfortune of being in one of those centuries. Try something more creative. Make me work for it.”

“Seriously?” You throw your hands up exasperatedly.

“As serious as your great aunt's coming heart attack.” They reply deadpan.

“Fine!” You purse your lips, not evening wanting to think about that last statement. “Help me prevent it.” You fume, all the little thoughts and wishes since the day you got the call boiling over. “I wanna look that fucker in the eyes before they can get to her. I want them to pay for even thinking they could take her from me!”

Lucifer grins, cold dead eyes warming over like coals on an open flame. “Oh yes, now that I will do. Time distortion is such a pain to undo. By the time they catch on, Michael will be up to their necks in timelines to untangle to get to you.” They unfurl a long clawed hand from beneath their robes. You see a symbol glowing, hot and white, on the skeletal palm. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Yes.” You nod, your throat clicking dryly as you approach them again. You hand inches from theirs before stopping. “Can you do that?”

Their smile is all teeth. “With ease. I look forward to watching the mess you make.”

[nxcturne]

⌜  ⁰⁰¹ satana hellstrom. megan fox. she/her. cis woman. ⌟ looks like SATANA HELLSTROM has joined the search for the missing mutants. the TWENTY-NINE YEAR OLD is known as THE DEVIL’S DAUGHTER and works alongside NO ONE. they were spotted recently in NYC, hopefully they’ll have some luck finding the missing mutants. ( may. 21. she/her. est. )

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

name: satana hellstrom alias(es): the devil's daughter, succubus, queen of hell age: 29 birthday & zodiac: october 29th, 1991 & scorpio sexuality: bisexual ( i checked and it’s no longer formatted like this :( but... the queen ) mbti: entj enneagram: 5w6 –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 affiliation: mostly no one. occasionally hell lords, avengers of the supernatural, thunderbolts, witches, legion of monsters, masters of evil west coast. sometimes an ally to the midnight sons. weapons: ------- basilisk: although he has since been exorcised, she was bonded with the powerful demon 'basilisk'. although it was largely parasitic, he proved useful in his ability to... basically kill anything when she released him. abilities: -------life-force absorption: as a succubus, she is able to devour the souls of men via a kiss <3 ------- superhuman strength ------- superhuman durability ------- levitation ------- astral projection ------- hellfire manipulation ------- mind control ------- magic

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

triggers: murder, satanism, brief mention of sacrifices (including one animal) & cults, brief mention of sex work

satana was the product of a literal unholy union between human victoria hellstrom and secret literal satan marduk kurios, an alias the satan adopted. it had been a plan set in motion for years -- for a half-human, half-demon, child -- but none took until marduk found himself charmed by victoria.

but! satana was not their first half-demon, half-human, child. born three years after her older brother, daimon hellstrom (pls bring him!), she became the happy byproduct! and she became the only family member who saw who her father truly was... and, like, at an intensely young age??

nonetheless! she was deemed a daddy's girl... and what better bonding activity than performing an animal sacrifice as a young child? when her mother witnessed this, she finally put two-and-two together (took her long enough...) and was driven mad, sent to the asylum she would die in.

she was separated from daimon. he went to a new human home and she went with her father to literally be raised in hell. various demons who walked amongst them helped her train and sharpen her powers <3

so that said, all she ever longed to do was impress her father, so her exile to earth was one that was initially assumed as temporary -- and, when made longer term, assumed manipulated by a powerful group: the four. and with the exile came the attachment of the basilisk.

on earth, she found herself walking the streets. plenty of attempted assailants and johns soon found themselves void of life and soul. a kiss on the lips, she sucked the life force from them and their soul turned into nothing but a butterfly for consumption. she was cursed to be a succubus, to gain her power and send further power back to her father through the kisses of many men (and it _only_ worked on men... #girlboss)

around this time, satanism was booming. she found herself commonly in the presence of satanists who believed her a prophet due to her birthmark, 'the devilmark.' however, with fanatic satanism came fanatic christianity (y’all, her comics began in the 70s, so just go with it)

it wasn't long before she found herself a victim of a fanatic christian group attack, left in an alley. and, ironically, saved by an ex-priest -- michael heron <3 of all mortal, and some immortal, beings, he was the only one who had enough willpower to resist her when she found herself accidentally going in for the kill.

he was a good man. not all good men were spared, but not all good men were as good as michael heron -- not all made her feel as human <3 for that, and for the care he took, she set his soul free... much to the chagrin of daddy dearest <3

all humanity escaped her when she learned the truth of her exile: her father was the cause of it. for all she had dedicated - her life to him and his cause - she was met with a cruel 'goodbye.'

with her mother (whom she never truly cared about <3) dead and her father proving to be her greatest betrayer, all she had left was daimon... the priest. so obviously, she would continue to go it alone.

with time, she not only built her own hell dimension, but built it so that it was booming. so entertaining, so lively, that she questioned who would want to go to heaven when they could meet all of their favorite dead musicians, actors, novelists, and so much more in her hell dimension!!!

she began oscillating between the good and the bad. whatever was for her, was for her. whatever would benefit her...

a time would come that she would become as close to her brother as she could be, but the general concept of having chosen a life of priesthood, even if it was before he knew his truth? wild!

also i literally just copied and pasted all of this from a discord server i used to write an intro for her in a couple months ago so............ pls do forgive me if it ain’t its sharpest!! i thought it wld be!! quicker than rewriting it all and it’s already been!! so long!!

tl;dr: should’ve been considered for her father’s right hand, not daimon. (#gaslightgatekeep)#girlboss. i like to pretend witches didn’t happen. i’ve never watched helstrom before bc i don’t have hulu but if u have from the gifsets i’ve seen i think her portrayal is great. has jim morrison in her hell which we love for her bc my god the amount of references to the doors in her early comics......

[prisontoybox]

//4, 36, and 37 for the ask meme.?

4 "what made you choose this muse?"

🦊

I had already been rping on discord with a friend privately, I chose Six as I only played LN1 and VLN at that point and he wanted to be Mono. I found the way I had Six being different from most fanon after looking at the fandom once I finished the game, but I loved her still. Then after LN2 I joined a server (GO LITTLE NIGHTMARES COUNCIL!! <3) and tried to reuse her there since she was the only one I had used so far. Then she was still different to the one I already had before, and while that got frustrating I just started throwing onto her a different verse sort of, then dumped some other interesting ideas from that verse and finally put her on a real blog because I'd love to share more about this whole divergent idea (and then proceeded to not share much about her story and world. Oops.).

🖤

Honestly upon starting the DLC RK was already my favorite kid. He sort of looked like my close friend (mentioned above) and his nightmare started in water, a fear I had for a long time after a bad experience. Plus blue kid. Then after beating the DLC I started looking for fan stuff about him and saw a Shadow Seven fanart, and the whole possibility of "the Lady splits the children into an empty form with conscious and some memory, and an empty soul who is literally a shadow of themselves" was already playing in my mind. It took a while til I actually brought up later on asking if anyone would be interested in that sort of character, and now he's been built on along with his role of being employed and s'mothered by the Lady. I love this brat.

36 "do you share any similarities to your muses?"

🦊

I too have short and long term memory loss from trauma, I feel bad for throwing that on her but I have some vent plans for her in case I need it. Builds character, don't worry Six. I was also pretty hidden to myself as a kid, despite my extroversion. Also, I very much love foxes, and I did buy the fox mask when I never buy aesthetic DLC otherwise. ^^;; But hey, technically that means she beat Hard to the Core!

🖤

I too can be a stubborn brat, especially about emotions. Especially younger (maybe a little older than him though) I'd deny any emotion and stuff, then go cry and hug people after a bit. We've both always been softies inside up til now.

37 "do you have any differences from your muses?"

🦊

I have never killed or eaten anyone! But in all seriousness, I try to be polite even when I'm upset about something, and trying to write her being a socially confused mannerless child can be a real struggle. 😖 Recent example, both times she ate with the Mirror Man (@/distortingmirrors)I wanted her to thank him so bad. I'm also much more likely to approach someone in conversation first with jokes and stuff, she will...stare at you from a short distance quietly. I'm just too talkative and (semi-)open.

🖤

Again with the mannerless children! But he is and will be much better at being productive than me. I'm literally procrastinating folding laundry while my grandpa is coming tonight right now. (Although my mother probably won't threaten to kill or eat me for being lazy.) I also could NEVER touch a cigarette, even if I wanted to they smell so bad! I do have an addictive personality, so at least that's one addiction that I don't have to face. I also can't hold grudges as well or long as he can, I try to forgive fast (am Christian) and even when it's hard to and there's people I will never want to be around it's still important to forgive, but I don't think Kid will be able to bring himself there for a while when it comes to Six after festering this long. Even in the Lord and Lady verse, he probably has problems he's getting over.

[imuybemovoko]

My beliefs now

I set this blog up for a bunch of different purposes including conlangs/worldbuilding stuff, my writing, and my views on religion and maybe also politics. So far, mostly, I’ve ranted a lot about the beliefs I left behind. Now that I’ve let that particular sketchy brand of Christianity, now that I’ve discovered the ways it and my conservative family background were probably turning me into a fascist while I was still in all that, I figure I might as well try to hash out where I stand now. I’m around eleven months out from my deconversion, and a lot has already changed. I might try to attempt a before and after thing but there’s a lot to unpack about how I used to think and I’m not sure I’ve understood everything yet. I think I made the mistake of thinking that not very long before that repressed memory about “Sharon” and her Jonah display came crashing back in March. This is current to late July 2020 and may not include everything. 

So without any further ado, let’s talk background. First, some things I’ve already either mentioned or given more than enough evidence for. I used to be a Christian fundamentalist. (Clearly. I rant about it a lot.) I got into that because I was raised religious, then let myself fall right the fuck into what I’ll call “deep end lite” shortly before senior year in high school. Some local churches in my small town arranged a missions trip thing and the way I agreed to go along felt in the moment like surrendering to a voice that’s been speaking to me all along. In ...a way, it was. Just not the voice I thought. I’m pretty sure I didn’t want this god, at any point like ever, until that little part of me whispered that it would be easier to accept him. I have a megathread document that I’ve stored a lot of my “God stories” from my time as a Christian in. Unfortunately I didn’t remember many specific details of this experience to write down in there, but I did write a bit of a “life-story” thing that reminds me that, chronologically, that happened after a period of focused attempts by the church to indoctrinate me, some traumatic things my family did, social struggles, and feeling like an asshole because of things I’d done in the past. I remember having this growing sense over the previous year that I was approaching some kind of very dangerous breaking point, to the point where (trigger warning: mental instability, school shooter mention. Please either stop here or skip to where it says “in other words” in the next paragraph after this if that’s going to be an issue. It also keeps getting dark from there for a minute. Please, please tread with care if you need to. There is no shame at all if this becomes too much. Take care of yourself first and foremost.) 

when discussing how I came to accept the faith, I told some of my Christian friends that I felt like there was a scary chance of me becoming a school shooter. I think this may have been a post-hoc projection, but I can’t quite be sure of that. I was in a bad place for a bit there in high school. I had a wild temper and some sketchy intrusive thoughts.

In other words, it hit at a perfect moment of weakness. That’s how oppressive forms of spirituality function, it’s how hate groups function... it’s a massive shit cocktail and I found a pretty bad influence in the form of people who promote that whole “born again experience” thing in Christianity. I’d say I’m glad I missed out on being dragged into a fascist ideology this way, but uh... I’m no longer convinced I didn’t grow up around something like that. More later. 

From there I spiraled my way through my first attempts at college through the university’s chapter of the Chi Alpha campus ministry and, peripherally through that, Assemblies of God (holy shit those guys are wild), then through a local Baptist church (more peripherally) and Calvary Chapel (I was a worship guitarist here for like 18 months and helped with their youth ministry for almost as long) closer to home and a CRU chapter at my community college. With each passing year I slipped further and further into this weird shame-induced funk where I got like... addicted to Jesus and hated myself or something. It’s a bit hard to find words that don’t take multiple entire extra pages and I want to be concise, so I’ll simply call it “Jesus-flavored depression” for brevity and because that was enough of a genuinely bad time (and I’m still fucked up enough) that I might need some fairly serious therapy.

Near the end of 2018 I was reaching a breaking point, wondering why nothing ever seemed to change in my life from “sexual sin” (...which in my case literally consisted of being attracted to women and occasional self-pleasure, but they literally teach you to hate yourself for less than that in the spicier churches rip) to my direction in life to how trapped I felt by my family. I also started to have more questions about the violence in the Bible and some of the sketchier doctrines, and that was strongly reinforced by some of the things I saw in a creative writing class I took, including an atheist who shared a story of a profoundly negative experience involving being taught about hell at a very young age. All that led to the absolute disaster that was December 2018. It was my last semester at the community college I went to. Finals week was a fucking disaster, and the week before that too, and my grades were really good but at great cost. I won’t go into a ton of detail because 1. space concerns and 2. this time is still damn painful to discuss, but just know that I’m unconvinced I’d have survived that month without this song. (Yes, that’s Paramore. Shut up xD they’re still good.) I looped it for like three days straight and I think it was just enough to keep me going through what was the third time I had any suicidal kind of thoughts ever and by far the worst and longest period of it so far.

So the next several months (and I won’t go into a ton of detail about this, I intended this post more to describe my current position and I don’t wanna get too in the weeds with background) were a confusing period of questioning, starting with, of all things, my family dynamic. The spiral after the week before finals was ...considerably worsened by some comments my dad made, and between that and some experiences in the past that the creative writing class I took that fall reminded me of, I was exposed to a bit of a deeply toxic pattern. I might discuss that more deeply in another post, but for now suffice it to say that extensive youtube binges and some other research between about January and March told me the situation is probably adjacent to pathological narcissism in some way. I brought some of this up to the church I was attending at the time (a small town Calvary Chapel, if I haven’t mentioned that already) and their responses were ...inconsistent. Some people blamed me, some people said “oh dang your dad is abusive”, and some people took the “your parents are trying their best” tack. In retrospect I think that made me doubt if God’s messaging to these people could really be trusted. Then, in about April, the question of hell came up again. I was helping in the church’s budding youth ministry at the time and we had about four regular attendees between the ages of 12 and 18. There were about three weeks in a row when one of the other adults (I’ll call her Kelly for the purposes of not doxxing; also more on her later) talked at length about how unbelief leads to hell. I remembered that atheist from creative writing, made the connection to these four kids, and thought, “what the hell are we doing?” (Pun not intended but rather convenient.) I immediately backed down from my role in the youth ministry, citing other equally valid but less pressing reasons involving stress from the issues with my dad, and tried to go on with life. But the floodgates were open. 

In late May or early June, I was staring out a window one morning and suddenly a question crossed my mind unbidden: “Is God a narcissist?” I thought back to a relatively recent sermon by the associate pastor in which he explained that the purpose of the world was “for God’s glory”, to some apparent sudden flights of rage, and some other factors in the scriptures, and thought, “holy shit, I need to investigate this, because God is also very adjacent to narcissism.” It took a hot minute for the ball to really get rolling with that, but once it did... I came to a point by late June or early July where I delivered an ultimatum to God, something to the tune of “Ok, either show me how all these questions I have can be answered beyond a doubt or I’m done.” 

There was no answer. 

God was silent during this time, and the people in the church were shocked that I had the questions I did and either concerned or ...rather spicy. I joined an ex-Christian discord server to aid in a proper, thorough investigation. I aired my questions both there and on a Christian discord server. The Christian server was toxic as fuck and the ex-Christians started making a crazy amount of sense. I watched some videos from Cosmic Skeptic and TheraminTrees (most notably the latter’s deconversion story) for new perspectives and, by mid-August, had crashed out of the faith altogether.

So the last time I ever stepped into a church with the intent of attending service (I showed up after once in January of 2020 to kinda let them know and that went pretty badly lol) was about two weeks before I started college again in the fall. I burned all but one of my Bibles and a collection of gospel tracts I never did anything else with and stylized it like my limited understanding of what a satanic/pagan ritual looked like, complete with a chant in my conlang Aylaan for a more personal twist because of course, to feel edgy. (I did a lot of kind of weird shit to feel edgy; that’s one of two of them I’m sure I don’t regret.) And after that, things got ...ah, confusing?

Because of course when the linchpin of your understanding of the world gives way, everything becomes fucked for a hot minute. 

So the first thing that happened was a couple months of anxiety and confusion. I slowly started to deconstruct my inherited political views too. (More on that later.) Then I had this really beautiful interesting moment in late September where I walked past a tree on the way to a class and had a sudden realization that I didn’t have to force the tree into a Christian framework anymore, it was just a beautiful mass of green shit and cellulose. I could appreciate it in whatever way I felt was best. I damn near broke down crying in the bathroom before class, it hit me that hard. So that’s fun xD

Since then I’ve kinda gone through a bunch of funky phases with this, including a couple of months of fairly salty atheism. Along with that process, I started questioning my sexuality in December (more on that in another post in a minute lmao it’s a trip) and literally shredding my politics in the face of Trump being a crackhead in a dangerous position getting away with confirmed illegal shit, COVID-19 and the ...dehumanizing responses of corporations and their sponsored politicians, and then what I noticed about the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd and the fallout from that. (In a nutshell, holy FUCK there’s a huge problem and it’s messed up that people don’t see it.) At this point, I’m socially progressive and pretty left leaning. I don’t know what the hell to do about it or how either other than some of the tense discussions I’ve been having, but I’d like to work against racism and discrimination too. So that’s cool and a lot better than where I was... 

which... I regret deeply.

I don’t know exactly how to define my old political views, and they were marked by considerable cognitive dissonance. I’ll try to illustrate this as best I can but I don’t know what label I can use. Here goes. 

Cursed images aside, I think the best way to explain this is through some background, i.e. what my parents believe, because my beliefs were largely inherited. 

This might be majorly over-simplified and based on what I remember of my own pre-deconstruction views and what I hear them say lately. I’m doing my best, but take it with a grain of salt. Basically, it seems like they walk this weird line between constitutionalist and very authoritarian that I see a hell of a lot of in rural America. Kinda like the Republic party used to before they yeeted into Trump’s mindfuck wholeheartedly. They’re homophobic to a rather alarming degree (more on that in another post soon) and not ...overtly Christian-supremacist but you can tell that their ethics are dripping with it and they’re terrified of Islam and they’d like to legislate some aspects of Christian morality. They also support the second amendment, which is the one thing I still agree with them on that I’m aware of, but they take it to more of an extreme than I’m willing to. For further ...flavor, they also reject the premise that parts of our society are systemically racist (and maybe also the idea that such a thing is even possible because of course), subscribe to the “bootstrap theory” for everything they can think to apply it to, reject climate science, and have been extremely conspiratorial about COVID-19. Also they like making it out like everything is a Democrat conspiracy theory, compare the Democrats to Hitler and Stalin to a weird degree, have on at least one occasion called Fox Motherfucking News left-leaning, and think Alex Jones is wacky but sometimes raises valid points. 

So that’s, in a nutshell, a bit of a look at my past political views, except I think I was a bit more Christian-dominionist than them and I think I had moments of “...does this really make any sense?” for years before I crashed out of everything. The first domino was my Christianity, but once that fell, my entire approach to the world went some places. 

So ...yeah. Oof. I was sketchy as shit. Glad that’s changed. 

So uh... I’ve already mentioned a vague (read: as much detail as I feel confident providing) description of my political views now, but after all this bullshit let’s finally get to the other half of my titular current beliefs. This ...isn’t going to be easy to explain either, but I feel more confident going into more detail. Buckle up :^)

Alright. So except for a couple of months where I was like “there is no god reeee” half because I was sOmE hYpErInTeLlEcTuAl SkEpTiC and half because of trauma from the toxic flavor of Christianity I left and some shitty developments in both politics and my social circles (I’ll talk at some length about “Kelly” in a sec here I think), since leaving Christianity I’ve always been what I’ll call “hopeful agnostic” (I think I stole this term from Rhett and/or Link lol). In a nutshell, what that means to me is “there may or may not be a god, but I hope there is at least one and they’re nice, or like, at least some spiritual thing that has a good aspect that can help me”. I also dabble in shitty rituals where I burn dead plants and occasionally also hate literature like gospel tracts (and, that one time, a couple of bibles) and basically call on “anyone who is listening and gives a fuck, else the placebo effect” for whatever my goal is. Like... witchy-adjacent but I don’t think about it very much at this stage. I kind of enjoy it, and I think for one reason or another it can be good for my mental health, but I’m wary of any kind of commitment or even more serious experimentation, even as I hope to find something good, because ...trauma, and maybe even absent that a desire to not be wrong in a way that’s dangerous to anyone else again. So that’s fun :^)

So if you’ve made it this far through this weird bullshit, thanks, this story is kind of important to me xD and if you couldn’t, and you’re not reading this ending thingy because it got too dark or it pissed you off or something, that’s cool too and you’re beautiful and valid. Whoever you are, I hope you find whatever healing you need. :)

[edwardjamescoplin]

Plot Wishlist

This is an old list of plots I wanted to do but never got around to. I’ve described them in m/f, f/f pairings but am open to nonbinary characters as well! 

Disclaimer: I personally have never written a nonbinary character and don’t want to disrespect anyone without properly researching when doing so, but will be more than happy if you’d prefer to play one! 

If you’re up for playing one of them out, simply send me a message or like this and I’ll come to you! I’m more than excited to write with you!

Discord: edwardcoplin#7261

A plot with a woodworker -  maybe a lady was sent to look over this guy because he was running the business himself and he has a business deal with a company where he isn’t meeting deadlines. They send her in to push him to complete the agreed upon orders and she discovers he’s not doing too well mentally/emotionally. She has to straighten him out and in order to keep the deal going he has to obey her. This of course leads to silly arguments and they don’t get on well. He feels that she ruins all the fun because she walks in when he’s goofing off with friends and picks fights with him, so he blames her for his inability to finish the job. This could turn romantic or just be a petty partnership of showing each other up. 

Subject A started having seizures a month ago. Doctors have not given A any type of diagnosis and A is having to adjust to life rapidly changing. A can no longer attend school due to being a distraction as well as not being able to make it throughout a class without being in pain, feeling left out because he/she is not at the same place as the rest of his/her peers with classwork, and of course the seizures are ‘distracting’. Over the span of a month the entire school has blocked A out, slowly halting with newsletters to events and games, rallies, etc. Subject B has had seizures for over two years and has been out of school for a year. He/she was never given a diagnosis and still continues to go to doctors in hopes of finding out something new. A and B meet in the waiting room at one of their therapist appointments, not knowing the other shares a similar experience. They are just two normal people. They talk and bond over common interests but neither tells the other of the crippling effects of their seizures. A and B split and go to their sessions and then leave noting to swap numbers. Over the next six months they trade texts, emails, late night half asleep phone calls, and weekly meet ups at their therapy appointments. The can share their favorite books and movies, old games, etc.. They tell their parents about each other and their parents stay in contact with the belief this connection is healthy for the two of them. A and B have to plan ahead for anything they want to do outside of their appointments. They go to the mall, spend time at each others place, and of course they both find out about the others condition. They don’t use that to bond though. They focus on who they were before the seizure started and who they are now. They try to make the best of things through health scares. Both A and B spend endless amounts of time molding their friendship and doing the things they feel comfortable doing. They don’t push each other, but they kind of protect each other and offer an understanding.                                                     This is just a rough draft idea. I definitely want to develop this more and figure out the exact details of doing it. This is somewhat of a personal experience and I like the idea of normalizing different health conditions. 

Two girls that are best friends and they don’t necessarily click in the way that they wanna fuck and shove each other into doors trying to get the other out of their clothes, it’s more of a co-dependency relationship/friendship. They aren’t dating, but they both get jealous when the other is in a relationship with somebody else. They’re both popular in school/their own crowds (college based), and maybe one of them is head cheerleader for the college/university and the other is a huge science nerd. But they grew up together and they’d never let the differences between cliques come between their friendship. At least they try not to. I want there to be late nights where one is running over to the others house/dorm, even though they should be sleeping, because she needs somebody to hold her while she sleeps. And I want there to be fights and melodramatic little quips. Maybe the nerdy one has a bigger mouth than the cheerleader. I want there to be screwed up make out sessions and then they just pretend like it never happened. It’s nothing more than a friendship. They do everything together. One of them is focused on moral rights and the other is focused on just having a good time, but they have long talks and lose sleep trying to put the pieces together in life and they make dumb plans and just everything is focused on them and growing and learning and finding out who they are and what their friendship really is. I want the craziness of it all. {this plot would most likely include smut, so please 18+ only}

A girl is a serial killer and her parents put her into a mental institute, and the workers at said place are really violent/cruel. They torture her physically and use electric shock/other methods to try and fix her and stuff. Pretty much they do it so much that she’s mentally trapped in a coma state. So, while in this coma, she dreams and makes up this whole other world. She meets a boy/girl and they get on well and basically it can either go in the direction of him/her being a serial killer and they’re killing people or she creates this whole world where they’re just normal people and she imagines him/her up. Another turn it could take, twist here, the boy/girl is actually a serial killer and the people at the institute tortured him/her and killed him/her several years back and now he’s/she’s in her dreams and it’s just really fucked up ok.

Two kids who grew up together and were very close/or maybe not even friends but they’ve met up ten years later and one is like rich and famous and the other runs a library and somehow in business deals they get paired together and have to travel to a place neither is familiar with. They work together to navigate through the entire thing and kind of get to know each other. They could like each other or hate each other, doesn’t matter.

two people, both from different religious views. They’re pushed together for some reason. one of them is really big into Christianity but the other is atheist and the religious one falls for the other and the entire time that person is pushing them away because they don’t believe in love or anything and this related to the song angel with a shot gun, give up religion for em all that jazz.

“I was once told I like people because I enjoy trying to fix them. I’ve learned, now, that there is no way to fix people, and you should not try to fill yourself in between the cracks of their uprooted scars. Upon being told this, I began to see things differently. I watched myself from the outside, captivated by the way I would fall in love with the trivial flaws and misconceptions in a person’s everyday life. I watched as they would walk across the street, dressed for work and bound for disaster at the swallowing of a coffee all too hot, and I would fall into a transitional relation with them. I found home between the curves of their words. They were like silk in my mind. I would find companionship in the alternate spirals of their every step. Their thoughts were like ink to me. I could write down every single one of them. Their tears were like drops of rain filled with the temptations of curiosity in the form of stories. Every single detail became an art piece for me.”                                                                        I wrote this a while back and I really want to create something off of it. Maybe like a m/f goes to the same cafe every day with his/her journal and they write stories about the people they see and like fall in love with people all the time just by watching them.

"Fingertips leave the soft tinted stain of your body against mine. They wrap in rafting waves over the hills of my spine."                                          I would also love to make a plot off of this little bit I wrote a while back.

two angels are paired together by god to walk the earth and do jobs, but then they get in trouble and lose the powers/advantages they had. They get trapped on this universal plane and have to work among mundanes to figure out how to get back to safety. (honestly this is similar to the show Lucifer now that I look back on it)

a cynical lawyer works for a psychotic model

a hunting trip turns into a fight for life with no connection to anyone outside of the woods

"you’re not supposed to look back, you’re supposed to keep going." Maybe something that isn’t necessarily dealing with running away but overcoming some sort of obstacle. I don’t know.

{f} is a dancer, always has been. She’s been in love with it since she was little. She’s never taken a class, just taught herself the choreography to dances. She choreographs her own moves and teaches a hip hop class down in town. {m} has been to dance school, worked all of his life to do whatever his mother wished upon him. He’s dealt with riches and galore, promised to marry a girl from his class, but recently decided to go in other directions. He dreads dancing, however, he’s been sent to teach one class recently. Since joining said class he’s met {f}, who has undeniably brought out the joy in his dance. She pushes him to go after the things he actually wants in life, so long he promises to remain as head in the one class at the studio they both work at. He doesn’t know what to do apart from follow what she says. Something about her makes him see the beauty in the things he hates.

“I would anger angels for you.” — SIX WORDS (2/3/14)                               a plot based off of this, or to use it as a quote for a character

[janiklandre-blog]

Sunday, March 5, 2017

9:25 a.m.  very cold but sunny   a lonely Sunday morning - somewhere I read about the Sunday blues - earlier I have also written about all the people going to church - obviously a way to combat the Sunday blues. I tried - but rarely found services inspiring. For a while Paco and I attended the 6th Avenue Methodist Church in Brooklyn. Paco's second wife Elaine - 16 years younger than he, she dumped him and I met him - Elaine before being with Paco had found her way to the church of Finley Schaef - then off Washington Sqare to the West, Finley had been the first minister to speak out against the Vietnam war from the pulpit. His church was called the peace church - a group my friend Ari Salant was part of, Resist, met there and I went with him, Grace Paley was there - and days before I met Paco I had gone there with Robert Goldscheider and my sons - our sons - to see the San Francisco Mime Troupe performing at the church. My son later tried joining them in San Francisco, alas they said something to the effect that too many Jewish boys from New York were coming (our Jewish name does make us Jewish - there is my Jewish grandfather and Robert's Jewish father - Robert later with his third wife Janet joined a synagogue - my lose affiliations have been Christian, my sons never sought any, as far as I know.

Finley's church was a lively place - but then Finley became involved with the youthful assistant Nancy, his wife with the youth minister - Finley and Nancy a pair to this day - the liaison of his wife did not hold long - still the Methodist church too a dim view, Finley list his church (now condos) - worked in a bar for a year - then made apologies and was assigned the church in Brooklyn - this was around 1973 and Park Slope still a waste land where we could have bought a house for peanuts and I wish we had. While there, the area became gentrified and by the time Finley retired - I visited him and Nancy in Saugsrties not too long ago - it had become a posh neighborhood and a posh church.

After Elaine dumped Paco she was banished from his church, but Finley - and many other people - loved Paco, the charming and prolific azrtist. At times we walked to the church from our second avenue loft - over the Brooklyn bridge, up Flatbush avenue - we loved these long walks, took interesting photographs - all gone - we allotted two hours, still often came after the service had begun and Finley would stop and grandly welcome his painter friend and probably call me his wife - there was talk we might get married in a church ceremony, not the civil one - no legal obligations. We never did.

Finley had a strong theatrical flair - his services were theatrical and fun - he was of Catholic Lithuanian background but had converted to the Methodist church. The church was also very political, much attention was paid to events in Latin America and demonstrations were joined.

At the end of the service we always were invited to the Parish House - a select group - to a lavish brunch and often ended up in nearby Prospect Park. These were not lonely Sundays.

However, in the spring of 1988 when Paco decamped to East Hampton without me (he had waited until it got warm) - on mother's day I went alone to the church where I met Patty Lee Parmelee from my German group and the German woman theologian Soelle was visiting and Patty said, we are going to the Parish house - and I said, I am coming and Nancy stopped me and said: I don't think there is enough room.

Wham bam - only as an adjunct to Paco had I been welcome. Interesting. I did write them a letter and for many years stayed out of contact until I ran one day in the street into Finley who embraced me warmly, asked where I had been - he had forgotten all about that mother's day - by then he had retired and they had left New York - and invited me to come to Saugasrtie's - where I also have another friend who gave me warm hospitality. I spent a lovely weekend there - alas I no longer have the get up and go of my younger years - though coming Tuesday I will test if I can still catch the 5:49 to New Haven and find a bus there to take me to Northampton - a trip I enjoyed not that long ago.

Well, C.B. has shelved me - avoiding any conflict - unwilling to sit down for a talk - finding excuses not to see me. Which also does bring once again the highly critical letter of me I received from another friend - reminding me that when I met Robert G. in 1953 he had three close friends - Lenny, Kenny and David - he and Lenny Harvard law, Kenny and David Harvard med (( did write a novel about them in 1964, after Robert an I had attended his 10th reunion of Harvard law - a theatrical weekend) I did send the novel to a major publisher, got it back saying, very interesting, keep working on it - alas I never learned to work on my writing, In any event, Robert proudly told me of the mutual admiration society the four had formed - three were Jewish, Robert had a Jewish father - determined social climbers - aware of the importance of giving each other support and building each other up. Gesine in Germany is one of my women friends building me up - alas not all women are. So often I de experience women tearing each other down - a late glaring example the granddaughter of Dorothy Day at Mary House. I am aware of the envy and jealousy I have encountered - also sometimes disappointing friends - I can think of three - who met me when I was teaching at Columbia, expecting me to rise in the ranks - social climb myself! - disappointed when I sang: Hallelujah, I'm a bum again - hanging out with bums - not climbing socially but declining. Downward mobility they call it. It has not been voluntary poverty - I've now been around the Catholic Worker for more than 20 years - readily give them credit for making me part of their family - for giving me a home away from no home on ,many lonely days - feeding me a lot of food - and yet at this  very moment deeply disappointing me.

I have lived many different lives with many different groups of people - for many at the CW there has been great continuity in their lives - Roger going back to the 50's - Jane going back to the 70's - Dorothy Day's granddaughters - Kate who now is promoting her book - they have mountains of photographs, letters, books that go back to the time if my birth - 1933 when inspired by Peter Maurin the first issue of the Catholic Worker was published - a penny a copy - peddled in Union Square - a penny a copy to this day and still in the same format - I've read much of Dorothy's excellent writings - her memoir The Long Loneliness, very openly talking about her early days, her recently published extensive journals, a lot of her other writings - it is a fascinating story - what the synergy of two people created - a vital movement that today encompasses the world - and crfeated great continuity in the lives of many people whom I met and watched - good people.

After C.B. drew me in after 1997 - I helped her in the kitchen - saving my life on the day of the 2000 fire, when I left my apartment minutes before a feroceus fire broke in to go and help her in the kitchen.Having just returned from 10 years in Bolivia she knew few people in New York and cherished me as a friend - until very recently - when at the behest of her dear friend M.H. I too was put on their list of the old and feeble minded - to be tolerated as long asd they don't open their mouth. M.H. who always had followed C.B.to my house and was welcomed by me, found it deeply offending how dared I asking to be included when she was asking out C.B. for a humburger. She insulted me, ran off - and later said - I'll talk to you when you'll be a sweet silent old woman.

I guess when you have grown old and not climbed socially - have status and money - that is to be expected. Having watched the C.W. all these years I have come to realize that while the myth declares everybody equal - there too is rank and status and in earlier writings I often wrote about watching French Christine - the general's daughter of aristocrstic background - fighting tooth and nail to climb in the ranks - and glad for myself not to share that ambition. It caused her much grief - she constantly felt left out - she and I did have a few very pleasant encounters and we did like each other - but most of the time she was seeking out "people of value".

The young people who arrive - their youth much valued - if they so desire, quickly rise - immediately there writing in the paper is valued, they are invited on journeys to South Korea, Russia, Afganistan, Iraq and on and on - they are asked to give talks - I turned 60 in 1992 - I was appreciated washing dishes, chopping carrots and later labeling the newspaper - 80.000 copies not long ago, now reduced to 30.000 - postage too expensive. I quickly realized that bar coding would be cheaper than hand labeling - but a woman who has died, Kathy Temple - asked before her death fow a vow that bar coding would never be used - and so people continue to hand lable - it's a bit like in Russia where three people under communism were given the same job to maintain full employment and make sure everybody had a job..

I did it when I was joined by an interesting French priest - who introduced me to interesting French writers - on the tip of my tongue - an early critic of communism whose chauffeur he had once been, later an inmate in a German concentration camp - he was refused housing at CW when evicted in Brooklyn, was a mad driver and died shoveling his beat up Toyota out of the snow. I acutually was asked to write his obituary - I had much liked him

Then all kind of discord broke out in the mailing room - also I preferred writing this here now blog - I no longer was wanted in the kitchen - and alas, not a published author I ended up in a rather numerous category of poor, lonely old women who are greeted kindly and then ignored.

But the place does abound in interesting characters - Jane always talked of writing a Gothic Novel and I hope she has - weirdness abounds - and you don't have to go to any theater, there is enough theater there. Still - it is time for me to widen my circle - and deal with the fact that I can come as silent observer, but there are so many pwople with a great need to talk and men do assert themselves - and boy, do they talk and talk - but forbid women to talk, not only me. Must accept realities.

And so goes my life. Went for an icy walk yesterday, listenened to the ever crazier news - went out to buy the Sunday Times - quickly escaped a violent encounter between two men - violence in the air. Read the Sunday Times, slept rather well - left house at 7 a.m.. - empty cold streets, tons of litter - Bean not very cosy -loud militsry sounding music - a worker sawing metal - walked - ran into a couple people I knew, stopped at the bakery where I've gotten into talking to the woman from former Yugoslavia, 49, a grandmother, drives daily 40 minutes - does not know where in former Yugoslavia her parents came from, does not talk to her Muslim mother - has some nerve problem and barely sleeps but says she is never tired - a bit worrisome, I find - and here I am, spending my lonely Sunday morning g writing - enjoying writing - it's 11 I'll call a friend

Got her answering machine - I know she's not in church but likely out with her daughter. Yesterday I noticed what looked like an interesting lecture at the Deutshes Haus at NYU - modern German authors - since Goethe Haus on 5th Avenue closed I've lost touch with German writing - still - it still is of interest and so I'll skip the CW brunch.

This may the lst of my longblogs at least for a while - tomorrow at 9 a.m. I am to see the eye doctor about the cataracts - he gave me a long form to fill out and extensive material to read - others have told me about the tedious eye drops - and then I'll see how the day develops - Tuesday early I plan to leave for Massachusetts and let's see how this will go. I will take my ipad and see if my daughter-in-law can give me some lessons - many do write on it at length - and then also, those of you who have followed my writing - is it ten years? - have been witness to my waning and waxing energies - somebody called it being a prisoner to our emotions - I would love to keep going at my present rate - since my energies began waxing once again and M.H. and C.B. have been so totally offended by an "energized Marianne" - how dare you not be sweet and even tempered - I have done a lot of organizing, taken care of many things that my waning energies don't allow me to do - when I feel so blah, oh, so blah - yet my psychiatrist friends have assured me "Marianne "you don"t know what real depression is" - and I am thankful to them - thankful I never listened to the pill happy nurses who tell me - you MUST take pills - and worried about others in my life who may suffer from more serious forms of depression than I do. With me until now it has been a passing condition - when I barely find three words to stay - stop writing this here blog - do feel like, hey can't you pull yourself together - this all started after my mother killed herself in 1982 - days before her 80th birthday - she had had with indignities of old age. Only I wished she had not done it the way she did. A year later I for the first time urgently wished for death myself. It threw me and those close to me into terrible disarray. It took me time to learn about waning and waxing energies - I often have not dealt well with it - allowed my anger to surface - but am working hard at trying to be as palatable as possible to myself and to those around me. Whomever I may have offended, please forgive me - and those of you who recites the Lord's prayer, please listen to the words you utter and act on it. A la prochaine, until next time, as French Chrstine used to say - she is now in Paris, battling cancer, would like to be called on her cell phone which is terribly expensive, has not seen to getting hold of a computer - here she only went to the library where a kind young man helped her. Well - perhaps she does not have the energy. I do miss her. She did understand what others do not.

Last - I wish I had learned to write in word - as things get long - my email mode gets a bit rebellious. Still, thanks again Ken, and now Molly to getting me were I am. Marianne