#I just convinced myself out of feeling too bad but I hate disappointing my grad students aaaaa

[zakurohampter]

Fuck. I am getting a bad grade in research assistant maybe I should end it all

[ukulelecal]

Bloom - Part One

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: angst!!!! implied smut. perhaps a swear or two. mostly angst

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: can yall believe that this video sent me so feral that i wrote this whole lil mini series in like five days?? i'm not surprised tbh. ANYWAY omg i really am excited for y'all to read this!!! i hope you love it!!! i would love your feedback, and please please remember that reblogs mean the absolute world to creators!

series masterlist

masterlist // posted on ao3

Devon would never forget the first poem Luke wrote for her.

He was a blushing mess as he handed her the folded piece of paper, insisting she read it later because he didn’t want to see her reaction. He had a lip ring then, blond hair spiked up and a wardrobe full of band t-shirts and black skinny jeans. He certainly didn’t look like how anyone would imagine a poet, but one look at his work would tell anyone that he had the mind for the craft.

Luke’s way with words was unmatched. Devon always called it a superpower; the way he was able to capture readers with words strung together so beautifully and paint a picture in the brain. He made people feel something. He had a gift, no doubt.

All of his poems were breathtaking, and he wrote many for her. The first would always be her favorite.

It was called The Orchids. The poem compared a woman to a field of orchids, delicate and lush. It was simple but sweet. Devon vividly remembered the rush of giddiness she felt as she read it, knowing it was written just for her. She remembered calling Luke after reading it over and over again, gushing about how much she loved it. He explained to her later that he chose orchids because the color of the shirt she was wearing the day they met reminded him of them.

They were only freshmen in college then. First time away from home, getting their first taste of real independence. Of adulthood. They met in a seminar class that every first year student had to take. One that everyone else hated but Luke and Devon loved, just because they got to see each other. A couple of coffee dates lead to The Orchids, which lead to a loving relationship and many, many more poems.

College was just about to come to an end now. Graduation was coming up fast, and that brought the simultaneously exciting and dreadful question: what next?

The future was something that used to delight Luke and Devon. Countless nights, they talked about marriage, a house, a dog, children. Luke would be a renowned poet, Devon a respected social worker. They had it all planned out. Even if their white picket fence dreams fell through, they would be happy so long as they had each other.

With graduation creeping closer and closer, Devon wasn’t so sure about their plans.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want it anymore. She still loved Luke with all of her heart. She wanted everything they had talked about, a future with him. Some deeper thinking into her career led her heart elsewhere.

It came out at dinner one evening, sat at the table of Devon and Luke’s shared apartment that they had moved into junior year.

“I’ve been thinking about going to grad school,” she blurted out. She twisted her spaghetti on her fork to distract herself. His face lit up, but Devon didn’t quite share his excitement. She knew this was something she wanted, but she was about to make a huge sacrifice that she had been trying to convince herself that she was ready for.

“Yeah? That’s great, Dev!” Luke cheered. “Here?”

The proud smile on his face quickly dropped when he saw the look of dread on hers. Graduate school was certainly a good thing, but if she wasn’t thrilled, Luke knew there must be a catch.

“Not here?” Devon shook her head. “Then where?”

The name of the school that she mumbled under her breath made Luke’s heart sink. It was far away. Very far.

“Oh.”

Luke wanted to kick himself for being disappointed. It was selfish, so selfish. He should have been proud that Devon wanted to further her education, and he was. He couldn’t fathom trying to take that away from her, but the thought of his girl being so far away was gut wrenching.

He wiped the frown off his face as quickly as it came. He reminded himself that he needed to be supportive, even if it hurt.

“That’s awesome, baby. I’m really proud of you.”

Devon knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was proud of her, but she could tell he wasn’t as excited as he was trying to seem.

“You don’t have to act happy about this, Lu,” she murmured, still pushing her pasta around. “I know what you’re thinking.”

He sighed and dropped his fork on his plate. Of course she saw through him. She always did. After four years of being together, Devon knew Luke better than anyone.

“I really am proud of you for doing this, honey. Don’t think that I’m not. It’s just…” he trailed off, unable to think of a way to put what he wanted to say without sounding selfish. “It’s so far away.”

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat. She was headstrong, and she knew that she needed to put her career and her own desires first. That didn’t mean it hurt any less to move so far away from the love of her life.

“I know, bubs,” she whispered. “But this is something I really want for myself. For my future.”

“Oh, honey, I know,” Luke sighed, not wanting her to feel bad. “I want you to do this. But the distance...I know it’s selfish of me-”

“It’s not selfish, Luke,” she interrupted, shaking her head softly. “It’s not easy for me either. But this school has the best graduate program for social work. Besides, I haven’t finished my application yet and I’m applying to some other places too. I might not even get in.”

Perhaps the most selfish thing of all was that a tiny part of him hoped she wouldn’t get in. It would break her heart if she didn’t, but maybe she wouldn’t be so far. Luke hated himself for the thought even crossing his mind for a split second.

Devon could see how this was affecting him. She understood; she knew he was planning on proposing shortly after graduation, though they were in no hurry to actually get married until they both had secure jobs. Moving hundreds of miles away for two years undoubtedly threw a wrench in the plans.

She had gone back and forth for a while as she searched for grad schools. As much as she wanted to stay close, her future career was something that she valued greatly. Devon was a first generation college student, and she wanted nothing more than to make her family proud. However, Luke was important too. The distance wouldn’t be easy, but she tried to be optimistic. She could only hope that he would want to try too.

“Don’t think like that, Dev,” Luke mumbled. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. His desire for Devon to succeed and his desire to keep her close were battling each other, and it only frustrated him.

He thought about his words for a few moments, but couldn’t find the right thing to say.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Devon gave a silent nod. She needed to let him feel this out, and honestly, she needed to do the same. Thinking about it was one thing, but actually telling Luke was another. She had been stressing over it for a while, and now that it was finally out, her and Luke had to actually deal with it together.

The couple finished their dinner in silence, the only sounds to be heard being the slight scraping of forks against plates and the occasional sighs.

Devon couldn’t help but feel guilty. Over the years, she had conditioned herself to put her own aspirations first. She had sacrificed a lot for others in her lifetime, but many people had made sacrifices for her as well. She felt she had found a balance between taking care of herself and taking care of the people around her. She knew that moving away for a while for her own benefit would have an effect on her relationship, but she didn’t feel as if she had to choose one or the other. If Luke was willing to try to make things work, then so was she.

Luke took his last bite of spaghetti and stood up from the table. He silently made his way to the sink to wash his plate before turning back to Devon.

“I’m going to write for a bit, okay?” He mumbled, slowly making his way towards the spare bedroom that doubled as his workspace. No doubt a poem was going to come out of everything he was feeling at the moment. Devon nodded and her brown eyes watched as Luke turned on his heel to walk away.

“Luke?” She called out before he got too far. He turned around with a hum of acknowledgement. “I love you.”

Despite the anxiety and dread he was feeling, he smiled.

He walked back over to where Devon still sat at the table. With her face cradled lovingly in his hands, he bent down to press a soft yet meaningful kiss to her lips. The kiss said that even if things were uncertain, this wasn’t over.

“I love you too.”

…

Devon’s breath caught in her throat when an email from her top choice grad school came through.

She had poured over her personal statement and fretted over her interview. No matter how much everyone assured her, she couldn’t help the anxiety that ate her away.

With a deep breath, she opened the email.

Accepted with a scholarship.

“Luke! Bubs, I got in! I got in!”

She ran into the spare bedroom where Luke was hunched over one of his many poetry notebooks. His head whipped up at his girlfriend’s yells, his brain taking a moment to process her words after being in the writing zone.

For a moment, neither of them were thinking about the distance. All that mattered was Devon’s amazing achievement.

Luke stood up to meet her. Devon practically tackled him in a hug and he easily held her close.

“Congratulations, honey,” he mumbled into her hair. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you.”

He held her for a few minutes, neither of them able to wipe the smiles off their faces. This meant a lot to Devon, and Luke knew it. He knew from the moment he met her that she was going to do great things in life. She was motivated, intelligent, passionate. Anyone could see it. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

Luke pulled away in favor of cupping her cheeks in his hands. Devon flushed under his adoring gaze, eyes falling downwards.

“You’re incredible, Devon Murphy.”

She kissed him as a form of thanks, melting into each other’s touch. Their eyes met when they pulled away, bright blue and warm brown. Devon wasn’t the wordsmith that Luke was, but she didn’t have to be. Her eyes and her actions told him and everyone else everything that they needed to know. Devon was in love with him, and Luke, her.

Even with Luke’s way with words, Devon could read his eyes too. They were just as expressive as his poetry. As they gazed at each other, she could see the flash of sorrow as his mind travelled elsewhere. She didn’t need to ask to know what he was thinking about.

“Luke…” she whispered with a softened gaze. The guilt was returning, although she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about. She had always struggled with her determination to put herself first. It wasn’t Luke’s fault either, however; his feelings about her leaving were completely valid.

“No. None of that right now,” he stated, shaking his head. “This is a huge accomplishment, Dev. We’re not going to be sad tonight.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Devon’s lips as Luke pulled away, grabbing his phone from the desk and sticking it in his pocket. He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to the door of the bedroom.

“I think you deserve a celebratory dinner, honey, yeah?” He offered, handing trailing to the side to hold her waist. She chuckled and leaned into him.

“You could throw in a frozen pizza and I’d be happy, bubs.”

“Hell no,” he scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion in the world. “You just got into grad school! I’m taking you out for dinner. If you want pizza, we can get pizza, but not a frozen one.”

Devon couldn’t help but throw her arms around him again, burying her face into his chest. He tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She knew this wasn’t easy, and she was beyond grateful that he was being supportive.

“Thank you, bubs. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. So are we getting pizza, or do you want to go somewhere else? It’s up to you.”

“Pizza sounds good. Can we go to the place with the good garlic knots?”

Luke laughed as he slipped on his shoes.

“Of course we can.”

Devon slipped on her own shoes and grabbed her denim jacket from the hook by the door before the couple made their way downstairs. Luke’s beat up Prius came into view as they stepped into the parking lot. Devon had named the car Bertha; she was old and a little rusty, but she got the job done.

Luke drove to the small pizzeria not far from their apartment complex. Once inside, they were seated quickly and ordered garlic knots and a pizza to share.

“We haven’t talked much about your writing lately,” Devon said once the waitress walked away. “What have you been working on?”

Luke shrugged and sipped his water.

“Not much. I haven’t really gotten anything good out.”

Truthfully, he had written a lot of poems about Devon leaving. He wasn’t going to tell her that at their celebratory dinner, though.

“In a slump?” She queried sincerely.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Maybe next weekend we can go out, go to the park. You always get inspired there.”

Luke grinned and reached across the table for her hand.

“I’d love that, Dev.”

The rest of dinner flew by, conversation getting lost in buttery garlic knots and savory pizza. Luke offered dessert, but Devon was too full to even think about it. A sly joke about having her for dessert at home had the giggling couple paying the check and driving home at record speed where Luke certainly made good on his promise.

Devon and Luke laid in bed that night where whispered I love you’s and gentle kisses put them to sleep. Not a negative thought in either of their minds. They were content, but the future still loomed menacingly ahead.

…

The apartment was once a place of solace. It was a place where Luke and Devon could get away from the stress of college life and simply be together. It was safe and comforting. A place they knew they were always welcome.

As time went on, the apartment slowly shifted from a place of joy to a place of dread.

Graduation day was coming up, and both Devon and Luke knew what that meant.

They busied themselves with assignments and exams, Devon simultaneously preparing herself for grad school. She didn’t say much about it to Luke; whenever it came up, the tension between them only got stronger. It led to them bickering about other things to avoid the conversation.

Before they knew it, graduation had come and passed. Devon and Luke officially had their bachelor’s degrees, Luke in creative writing and Devon in social work. The days leading up to it were a good distraction, celebrations with friends and family taking their minds off the move. But it was over. Devon needed to get to her new city soon to set up her new apartment and get her bearings before school started. It was time to face the music.

“Luke?” Devon mumbled as he came out of the spare bedroom. She had been waiting for him to finish so they could talk.

He sighed and sat down next to her on the couch, knowing exactly what this was about. They both had been dreading the conversation, but he knew just as well as her that they needed to discuss it before it was too late.

“Are you ready for this?” She whispered, glancing at him with sad eyes. He didn’t return her gaze.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to be away from you for this long, honey.”

Luke could feel his guard coming down. He wanted this for Devon, but he was struggling to keep his want for her to stay close suppressed.

“I don’t want you to think I’m not considering you in this,” she began, reaching for his hand in his lap. “Leaving won’t be easy for me either.”

“I know.”

He was too scared to say much else.

The couple was silent for a moment. They racked their brains for something to say that would make the situation easier on either of them.

“Maybe you could come with.”

Devon regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth.

Luke huffed and sent her a look.

“You know I can’t do that.”

She did know. If he could do that, he would have jumped on the opportunity immediately. Luke couldn’t afford to move. He was working on fulfilling his lifelong dream of releasing a poetry book. He was getting so close. Publishers were starting to take interest in him, and he nearly had enough money saved to cover the costs. It was difficult to save money when his part time job at a local bookstore didn’t pay much in the first place and he still needed to pay for school as well as his share of the rent and groceries, among other necessary things. Devon was a little luckier. Neither of their families had much to contribute, and she needed to pay for the same things as him, but her part time job paid better than his and she had money saved from when she managed to land a paid internship first semester. It was covering the costs of her move and grad school.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She watched him for another moment, trying to fight back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“Please say something, Luke,” she whimpered. All she wanted was for him to affirm what she so desperately wanted; for them to be okay.

He finally looked at her, both sets of eyes red rimmed. Devon squeezed his hand.

“Do you really have to go, Dev?”

The break in his voice sent the first tear gliding down Devon’s cheek.

“You know how much this means to me, Lu. I really think we can make this work.”

“Can we? Can we really?” Luke’s tone turned frustrated. Devon’s mouth dropped open slightly. Did he not believe they could last?

“What are you saying?” She whispered, voice shaking.

He sighed and roughly stood up, dropping Devon’s hand in the process.

“We’ll never talk. We’ll both be so busy. You’ll have school, I’ll be working. And you know neither of us have the money to be visiting each other often. There will hardly be anything,” he rambled, pacing around the living room. Maybe his selfish side was coming out, but he felt he was just being realistic.

Luke always aimed for realism, particularly in his poetry. He wrote largely about real life experiences and channeled his emotions into beautiful, flowing rhymes. His best work came from personal connection.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but write about what he wished he had.

His idealistic poems were never about Devon; his relationship with her was practically perfect. But this was something that no idealistic poem could fix. No words could change what was happening to them.

“I’ll make time for you, Luke. Won’t you do the same?” She questioned, growing frustrated as well. She had wanted him to share her optimism, but clearly he didn’t. A part of her knew he was right, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“Of course I’ll make time. But will it be enough? No matter how much we try, will it be enough to keep what we have going? Look at what it’s doing to us now! You haven’t even left yet and we can barely keep it together.”

“Do you really have that little faith in us, Luke?” Her voice was calm, despite how she felt on the inside. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No one said it would be easy. But we’ve been together for four years. I believe in us.”

Luke took another breath, trying his best to keep his emotions and tears at bay.

“I want to believe in us, Devon. I really do.” He turned to look at her. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and it only made his heart ache more. “I still want a future with you. I want the house and the dog and the kids we’ve always talked about. But I have a bad feeling. We’ve never been away from each other for more than a few weeks. I just...the distance is going to break us.”

Luke’s own words cut him like a knife. As much as he wanted to believe they could last, his own insecurities caused him doubt. He wasn’t sure if he truly believed that or if he just wanted to save himself the heartbreak of being away from Devon for so long.  

Devon let his words sink in. Even if it did break them before she finished her degree, she was willing to try until they couldn’t anymore. Maybe he was right. Maybe the distance would break them eventually. But it hurt her that he didn’t have any faith at all. Still, she understood where he was coming from.

There was no winner in this situation.

She thought for a moment, and finally came to the conclusion that they were both thinking about.

“Fine.” She slowly stood up from the couch and looked him in the eye. They were both shattered. Hearts were breaking into a million pieces simultaneously. Devon put on the most stoic face she could muster with tears still leaking from her eyes. “We obviously want different things right now. I have school, you have your book, and clearly we can’t handle both at the same time. Maybe there shouldn’t be an us.”

Although he had essentially been the one to suggest it, her words felt like a punch in the gut.

This wasn’t what either of them wanted. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But the truth was becoming more and more apparent. They couldn’t do this. Not now.

However, Luke mimicked Devon’s actions and put on a blank face.

“Maybe there shouldn’t.”

They stared at each other for another few moments. Reality was setting in. This was the end of Luke and Devon. All of the coffee dates, the love poems, living off Ramen and questionable dining hall food together, walks in the park, kisses, I love you’s, the late night talks of the future, everything gone down the drain.

Devon shut herself in the bedroom before Luke could see her break.

…

The next month before Devon moved was painful. Her and Luke hardly said a word to each other. They ate their meals separately, not bothering to cook together like they used to or order food to share. They both spent time with friends before everyone went off to their new adult lives. When they weren’t out, Devon locked herself in the bedroom while Luke did the same in the spare. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since before their fight.

Devon spent a lot of free time packing. She went through all of her belongings, creating piles of things to keep, things to donate, and things to throw away.

She soon came across something that made all of her emotions about the breakup resurface.

It was the shoebox that she kept all of the poems Luke had written for her in. She kept every single one.

With a quivering lip, she opened the box and gazed at its contents. Piles of folded papers were neatly tucked inside, his declarations of love all written out in one place. They were her most prized possessions. She went back and reread them often, and the feeling of having someone love her like Luke did was the best feeling in the world.

Devon choked out a sob, burying her face into her hands in hopes that he wouldn’t hear her through the thin walls. The fact that he was right next door hurt her even more. The caring, gentle boy that made her swoon with his charming smile and romantic poetry. He made her fall in love with him all over again every day. He was everything, and she lost him.

She slowly read through each poem. Instead of joy and adoration, all she felt was anguish and heartache. She never thought she would feel this way about Luke.

When she got to the bottom, she pulled out the last poem, and her heart completely broke in her chest.

The Orchids.

Devon couldn’t keep her sobs at bay. She clutched the paper to her chest, every bit of pain coming out in tears.  

Luke could hear her through the wall.

His heart told him to run in and comfort her. His brain told him it would only make things worse for both of them.

He plugged his ears, trying to block out the dreadful sound. He was in just as much pain as her, but the sound of the love of his life’s sorrow only made his own worse.

Glancing down at the open notebook in front of him, he reread the poem he was writing, and soon he found himself joining Devon in tears.

It was called Wilted. Their relationship that had once been a beautiful flower, an orchid, lost its sunlight and its water, and now it had wilted. Dead, grey, dried up.

Luke dropped his pen and folded his arms on the desk, burying his head into them. He cried.

The broken couple, only separated by a thin wall, might as well have already been miles apart. They cried together, but there was no sense of unity between them. Their pain was past what any poem could portray.

[cliche-ish]

You go, girl!

I really wanted to be a boy when I was younger, perhaps through out elementary school up to high school. I wanted to be a boy, because I enjoy the games that boys got to play. I liked running around and playing physical games and sports. So I hung out with a bunch of boys when I was in elementary school. I wanted to be a boy, because I hated what comes with being a girl. My Mom taught me that because I am a girl, I had to pay attention to my manners (i.e. close my legs when I sit, not shake my legs, walk slowly and femininely, talk quietly, dress modestly, help out with cleaning and cooking when visiting someone’s house while the boys run free and play outside, etc.) or to learn to do house chores. All those restrictions and responsibilities made me want to be a boy even. What made it worse is that I have a younger brother to compare. I am five years older than my little brother. When I asked my Mom if I could sign up for soccer (aka the real football) classes, she was hesitant. I knew she would. It is a boyish sport. She convinced me that playing soccer would make my thighs look bigger. (Thanks Mom, for pointing out my insecurity lol.) Ironically, my brother was forced to take soccer classes by my Dad, (because “real men play men’s sports” 🙄) and my brother said he hated it so much he never wanted to even watch soccer games on TV. When I was 8, my Mom asked me to wash the dishes every night after dinner. I asked her why my brother didn’t have to do it (because equality, duh!). My Mom said she would make him do it when he turned 8. So I accepted that “fair” promise, waited patiently, and washed all the dishes for 5 years to the day my brother turned 8. On his birthday, I asked my Mom to stick to her words and delegate the task more equally. She told me I should keep on doing it, because, you guess it, I am a girl. (Arghhhh!) So I grew up dreaming of being a boy, because I just wanted all the freedom that boys have. But at the same time I was still very much girly. I acted all boyish around my friends, but all girly and cute around the boys that I had a crush on. I was one of a handful of girls that stayed and played basketball with bunch of boys after school. I asked my Dad to get me boys’ sneaker and wore them to school while also wearing cute bow hair ties. Now that I look back, I was just a very silly and bizarre kid lol.

Asking for my parents’ permission to go out with friends late or to spend my night elsewhere but home was a nightmare. Because I am a girl, my parents say they have to protect me. My Mom did not let me go out and hang out with my friends in many occasions, because I was a girl. Meanwhile at the same time that was not a problem for my brother, even when he is 5 years younger than me. I was forbidden to have a boyfriend for the entire time I lived with my parents. Sleepover at my friend’s place was also not a thing. They could come over and sleep over at my place though, but guess what, their parents would not allow that either. The only type of overnight trips I got to go was school trips and scout camping trips (I was a girl scout), the kinds of trips that were lead by responsible adults that my parents know in person. Even when I left home to another country for college, stayed out as late as I wanted, and went on a bunch of trips without having to ask for permissions, the summer after my freshmen year, I came home and asked if I could go travel domestically with my friends (I was under their roof, so I had to follow their rules), they said no. They disapproved, because they did not know who my friends were and because I was a girl who should know better. That was it. I realized the sooner I become independent (mainly financially) from them, the sooner I get to make these decisions on my own. 

I was a very good student. I passed all the exams to get into the best schools and earned good grades all the time. And that was what mattered most to my parents or almost any other parents in our culture. Academic achievement was the best gift we could give to our parents. I remember vividly when I was in 5th grade and got the high score in my entire school in the elementary graduation exam, my Mom told me, “Girls tend to do well in school and be much better than boys during this age. But once they grow up into the teenage years (she means hitting puberty lol), they tend to get distracted with different things, like falling for boys and caring too much about their appearance, and thus fall behind boys in terms of academic achievement.” Okay, I know there are a lot to unpack here, but for the sake of time and my mental peace, let’s not lol. So I went on and became a “distracted teenage girl”, had crush on boys, got good grades but no longer the best grades, because wasn’t that what was supposed or expected to happen? When I decided to go to graduate school, my Dad told me, “Cool cool! But don’t spend too much time focusing on your career. Start thinking about getting married soon.” Around the same time, a family friend visited our home and told my Mom and me that “I should aim too high in my education. It’d be harder to get married and have a family.” I couldn’t believe she got to my Mom, who later that day said if it seemed to much to go to grad school, maybe I could find something else to do. Assuming I, as a girl, have achieved a lot more than expected (I think I did) even when people, including the ones that were supposed to cheer me on, kept on shutting me down and telling me I couldn’t and shouldn’t because I was a girl, then imagine what mind-blowing, impressive things I or any girl could achieve when we were just told or set to believe that we could be and do anything.

Growing up, I repeatedly heard from my Mom the story of how my Dad reacted when he learned that his first child was going to be a girl. He is very much subjected to the typical Vietnamese patriarchal culture and thinks that the first son should take care of and decide everything for the entire family. (My Mom suffered a lot from his patriarchal way of thinking throughout her marriage life.) My Mom said he was disappointed to know that I was a girl. In Mom’s words, he said “The first child should be a son, so he can give good guidance to his younger siblings.” My Mom told me how she felt protective of me and argued back that “Why does it have to be a son or brother? Why can’t an older sister guide her younger sibling?” She told this story many times. And for a long time, I was led to believe that I was not enough. I was sad and angry. So I tried my best to be the best that I could just to prove my Dad wrong. All my life it felt like I was fighting a uphill battle just so I could feel accepted as if I was a boy/son. But I’m done fighting this fight.

Despite all the above lamenting, I no longer resent my parents. Again, they were subjected to the belief system of a society and culture where the majority of people still believe 1) a woman’s place is at home, in the kitchen, and in her husband’s shadow, quietly sacrificing her life taking care of the family, so her man go out and achieve, and 2) a woman is vulnerable in this man-dominant world and needs a man to protect her fulfill her life. That is the bubble we were all living in. No parents are perfect. And I understand that my parents love me, and so they just wanted to protect me and make sure I could grow up fitting into the gender role that the majority of society expects or accepts. But because they did it out of love does not mean it was the right way. Not in my opinion. But in their opinions, that was what they think was the best for me.

Over the past years, I have learned to embrace being a girl, a woman, and a daughter, because I realized no matter how hard I wished I was a boy, I am still a girl, and so I need to learn to embrace and work with what I have. As a woman, I have a lot of odds stacked against me, from both my family and culture to the world. (It’s 2020, and we are still fighting so dang hard for women’s rights.) For a while I was just looking at the boys and men in my life, jealously and dreaming of the things I could have done, had I been one of them. Now I realize what I should do is to look at the many bad-ass women in my life and in the world as my role models, because I can actually become one of them. 

According to my gender role as a woman, I am expected to not achieve high in my education or or career, to get married, be good at cooking, bear children, and take care of my family. Well, how about no? 🙂 I am getting a PhD degree right after college, because I am a woman who can. I change the oil of my car and fix my own appliances, because I am a woman who can. I speak my mind, because I am a woman who can. I am taking good care of myself without relying on any man, because I am a woman who can. I am single, happy, and occupied with my career, dreams, hobbies, and friends, because I am a woman who can. I like cooking, because it brings me joy, not because I am a woman who has to. I will get married and have kids (or not) if and when I feel like that is the right decision for me and my partner to make. Yes, being a woman comes with a lot of obstacles and a lot of people telling me what I can or cannot do, but all that have only made me stronger, more compassionate, empathetic, independent, and resilient. I am proud that I am a woman. I can and will achieve whatever I dream because of who I am, not despite it.

[lolainblue]

Thunderbirds,  Chapter 24

t/w: mentions of drug use, suicide

   With a sick feeling in my stomach. I took Jane's laptop and set it aside. This whole time I had been telling myself that whatever Jared thought was going on was only in his head, that he had let feelings from that night at the party color his perception of her.  But the look on Jane's face now told me that whatever was going on had at least some truth in it.  I just couldn't understand why, if she knew there was something to Jared's accusations, she had acted so confused by his behavior.  Things still weren't making sense.  I hoped they were about to.  I hoped they weren't about to break my heart.

   “It isn't like they're saying.  It's not all lies but it's not like they're saying, I swear Shannon.”  Jane wiped her eyes and took another drink of her juice.  “I don't even know where to start.”

  “Maybe from the beginning?” I suggested.

   Jane shook her head.  “First of all, you need to know something.  You know how I said Angus's parents hated his ex-girlfriends? Well, one they hated in particular, sort of the chief ringleader of the skanky shenanigans club was Lacey.  She's an actress, she's on this Aussie soap opera and she kind of has this weird cult following.  And she hates me.  Oh, my god, does she hate me.  But I had bigger things to worry about at the time and Angus had stopped seeing her and got a restraining order, and I just kind of let it go...”

  “Restraining order? What the hell did you get yourself mixed up in Jane?” If I wasn't officially worried about where this confessional was going to go a minute a go I was now.  “I'm guessing whatever it was she didn't “just let it go”?”

    Jane shook her head. “No, it looks like she did anything but. And apparently she has convinced her little fan club that I'm the psycho whore of Babylon, out to ruin Lacey's life and steal her precious boyfriend and they have a whole website dedicated to how much they hate me.” She let out a ragged breath, but the tears seemed to be under control for the moment.  

  “Okay, well that sounds upsetting and a little crazy but....”

  “Which is ridiculous because who the fuck am I right? I mean sure Lacey knows me but why would these people care?” Jane seemed to still be processing whatever was happening.  She rubbed her temple and took a few deep breaths. “I know I'm not exactly an angel.  I've made some decisions that weren't the smartest, but....” she paused, seeming to be lost for words.  Which was chilling enough, Jane was always explaining and over explaining and the only times I had ever seen her speechless were big deals.  I braced myself for whatever was coming.

  “Just tell me what's going on Jane,” I told her as reassuringly as possible.  “I promise I will listen.”

   She nodded.  “Okay, let's start with that workshop where I met Angus.   Remember how I said I had been dating the guy that was giving it? Well, the whole story was he was an artist in residence, a novelist who was teaching a few classes that year.  I took his class the first semester I got there, fall semester.  We didn't go out until I had finished the class, this workshop was part of the way through the spring semester.  And really it was only a few times, we weren't actually romantically compatible, we got bored.  I didn't think it was any big deal at the time and I swear until just now I didn't even know that other people knew.  That's why I didn't put it together when you said Jared mentioned it. It was that much of a non-event.”

   I didn't understand what the big deal was here.  “So you kind of dated your professor.  Sounds like a bad romance novel.  What's the problem?”

  “Well,” she said, eyes down, “I ended up applying for a writing fellowship. Which I won.  Guess who was on the selection committee.”

  “Shit Jane.” All right this certainly sounded bad but didn't come close to explaining the drama from either Jared or her, nor justify a stalking campaign or an internet hate site.

   “I swear I didn't know it at the time, and when I confronted him afterward he swore to me it had nothing to do with our previous relationship.” Well, of course, he's going to tell you that Janey, I thought. Then again, if it happened the way he said and he was bored with her and uninterested, why would he have a reason to tip the selection in her favor?  “But yes, it looks bad, and they're accusing me of sleeping with him to get the grant.” I could hear the frustration in her voice.  I wanted to comfort her but there was more and I had to get to the bottom of it.

   “I'm not following Jane.  I mean I know it sounds bad but it's not that big of a deal.”

    She agreed. “No, not by itself.  I know it's just innuendo but it establishes a pattern of behavior.  Well at least as far as my hate club is concerned.”  She took a deep breath.  “I told you Roger's career really took off once we got to New York.  That first year I was super busy with school and work but that summer I had the money from the fellowship and took some time off to travel with him and do some writing.  We had a good time, went some interesting places, met a lot of different people.”

  “You've told me about this,” I pointed out.  

  “Yes, but I don't think you really understand,” Jane said.  “When I got to New York, well, you remember how I was.  Not exactly brimming with self-confidence or style. You made me start to understand I wasn't homely, awkward Plain Jane anymore but I still had a long ways to go. I started hanging around more with Roger's crowd. They showed me how to dress better, do my makeup.  I started going to the gym, got an expensive haircut, learned how to shop sample sales.  And I started getting attention.  Lots of attention.”

  Roger and I had both repeatedly told Jane how stunning she was but I guess at some point it finally sank in.  I was surprised that I felt a little disappointed in hearing it.  I guess I liked the idea of having all that beauty to myself. It felt sort of powerful.  I wasn't sure I liked what that said about me. I wasn't sure I liked the thought of a lot of men drooling over my Jane either. “What do you mean “lots of attention”?” I asked warily.

   She shrugged.  “Very simply, I let a few.. and I do mean a very few... very wealthy men take my broke, grad-student ass some very nice places and buy me pretty things. It sounds a lot more tawdry than it was.  But, add in the fact that I was also being taken places by Angus and trailing around on Roger's coattails, and the fellowship scandal....  It does make me look like a certain type of woman.”

   I took a breath.  I could see how she felt like it all looked bad, and Jared's name calling and hostility was making a little more sense. But it still seemed blown way out of proportion to me. I've seen some of the girls Jared kept company with over the years.  Some of them were a lot worse than anything Jane was telling me. “I know this isn't it, Jane,” I told her.  “Yes it looks bad but Jared is over the top and ….”

     I stopped when I saw the expression on her face.  It had been looking pinched and pained all through her reveals but now she looked absolutely heartbroken.  Her eyes were starting to brim with tears again and I could see her fighting to regain her composure.  Whatever the big secret was, we were there. I sat and waited, giving her time to get her words together.  Curiosity was eating me up, this story was winding all over the place, but there was a sense of dread about what might be coming.  I found I didn't want to hurry this along any more than she did.

   “Do you remember I said that Angus and I would go on vacations together, as friends? That sometimes he took girls he was dating, and I took my boyfriend once?” That had been during the first phone conversation we'd had, the one with me drunk in the hotel tub.  Kind of hard to forget.  “The trip I took my boyfriend with me for, Angus was with Lacey at that time. Roger actually came along too.  She would be super nice to me whenever Angus or the guys were around like she was absolutely my best gal pal, but the minute he turned his back she would turn into this raging cunt, making nasty comments and things. And when they were there she was still trying to undermine me, trying to embarrass me, hitting on my boyfriend.... she was jealous of the attention Angus paid me but also jealous of my boyfriend.  This is when she started hating me, that week on the island. When she met Jefferson.”

   Jane took a big shuddering breath as soon as she said his name, and I knew for certain we had come to the heart of the matter.  “See, Jefferson was an old friend, from our LA years.  You might remember us mentioning him, he's the one that came and cleaned the apartment out after we moved?”

   I did actually remember her talking about him a few times, mostly in reference to Roger being somewhere with him. I'd never met him though. She continued.  “So Jefferson was like two years younger than us, really smart and pretty amazing.  He really was only dating guys back then, he wasn't even on my radar.  But we all kept in touch and once when he came out to visit, things just sort of clicked between us.  We were together for about a year and a half.  It caught me by surprise really, I wasn't expecting it at all, honestly, I'd kind of been waiting on you, but this just sort of blossomed on its own and we were really good together.  When he was good that is.”

  The first tears fell then, and although she quickly got herself back under control, I worried where this story was going.  She hadn't mentioned Jefferson once in all the hours I had spent on the phone with her.  Hadn't mentioned a boyfriend at all other than Angus, and people don't tend to keep happy secrets. I thought that she had done the same thing I had, meaningless hookups while I waited to see if Jane and I would ever materialize again.  It surprised me to know that she had dated, and from the sounds of things, somewhat seriously.  This morning was just full of surprises.  I hadn't liked any of them yet.

   “See Jefferson had been battling depression for years, since he was a teenager.  He'd had a few bad bouts, had even been hospitalized once, but he was medicated and pretty stable when we were together.  There were some rough patches but he always pulled through them. I tried to be as supportive and understanding as possible.  I wanted him to know I was there for him. I thought he understood that.  I thought he knew he could come to me. I would have at least thought he understood he could come to Roger.  We'd all been friends for so long, we'd always looked out for each other..." she trailed off and took a deep breath before continuing.

   “He hit a really bad patch that summer.  He had always wanted to go to this particular resort in the Seychelles, but he was a bit of a workaholic and never got around to taking the time off.  I was really concerned about him and insisted he needed a vacation.  We went with Angus and Lacey and Roger came along with one of his temporary boyfriends.  It was supposed to cheer Jefferson up, help him get back on his feet.  I thought it did.  He seemed to be better after that, he started going out with friends again, was super productive at work, he was very attentive to me, he just seemed very connected and at peace. A month later he dumped me, out of the blue, no explanation.”

  “Janey...” I tried to reach over to take her hand but she brushed me off.

  “Twelve days after he dumped me hung himself.” She let loose a single, ragged sob that tore into my chest before clenching her teeth and pushing on.  “He said in the note that he was trying to give me some time to get over him before he did it, so I wouldn't hurt so bad or blame myself.  But he couldn't wait any longer.”

  There was so much anguish in her voice.  I knew this had to have happened at least several years ago, just from her history with Angus, but I could see how painful it was for her to tell me even now.  No wonder she hadn't brought it up on the phone.

  She continued. “If that's all there was to it I think Lacey would have left me in peace. But she was interested in Jefferson too, for the same reason she was interested in Angus. He was loaded. Which I know kind of makes me look bad too, but when we I met him, when Roger and I first became friends with him it wasn't that way.  His parents kicked him out when he was a teenager after he came out to them. He came out to L.A., tried to make something of himself.  Roger picked him up at a party, but when he heard his story... He ended up crashing on our couch for a while until he got a job and got on his feet.  He was such a scrapper, such a survivor.  He got into college, got his degree, worked really hard.  Started a business, made a fortune in the dot com boom. So yes, I had another rich boyfriend, but when I knew him, he was just the homeless kid who used to sleep in my living room sometimes.”

   She was all out crying now, and I could tell that no matter how this internet psycho had spun things Jane had very genuinely cared for Jefferson.  “He left everything to me and Roger. He didn't really have anyone else, like I said his family had disowned him years before that. I didn't want it, of course,” she added quickly. “I was too broken up over losing him and I just wanted him back. The money felt dirty.  Roger and I ended up spending a lot of it on starting a charity in his name, to help kids that had been kicked out by their families like Jefferson had.  But there was a lot of money. There was still a lot left.”

  Shit. I had been giving her so much grief about Angus, wondering things like who was paying for her hotel room and expensive vacations and it had been her all along.  “You don't need a rich husband do you?”

   She shook her head.  “Nope.” I wanted to ask some more questions but I could tell by the way she held herself this story still wasn't done. I let her finish. “Lacey was really nasty about the whole business.  Accused me of driving him to it so he'd leave me his money.”

  “That's fucked up.” I really wanted to meet this Lacey chick so I could knock her on her ass.  This vendetta she had against Jane was ridiculous, she had clearly kicked Jane when she was down and still wasn't satisfied. We were going to have to do something about her.

   “I know.  And I felt so guilty about not catching the warning signs, not being able to stop him, I let her get to me. I didn't handle any of it well.  Neither did Roger.  It sort of broke both of us.” Jane covered her face in her hands and once again I had to wait for her to compose herself. “He was so strong, so determined.  I'd seen him overcome so much.  I really thought he had beat it,” she said, eyes again brimming over with tears.  “It fucked me up so bad when he didn't. I started going out a lot.  I was just writing then, I didn't have a formal job, so I had lots of time to party.  And party I did. I danced my ass off and drank and smoked and popped and sniffed everything I could get my hands on.  Lacey made a lot of nasty accusations about celebrating Jefferson's death with his own money. Angus dumped her.  She blamed me.  Then one of the girls Roger and I had been partying with OD'd and Angus threatened to put us both in rehab if we didn't straighten up our shit.  I told him I wasn't really an addict, I was just self-medicating, but he was right, it had gone too far.  I quit.  I got a therapist. So did Roger. I started writing again. And then I started seeing Angus.  Actually dating him.  We had slept together numerous times over the years when we were both single but we actually started dating.  Lacey completely lost her shit.  Started stalking Angus.  He had to get a restraining order.”  Jane shrugged.  “I guess that's why she turned her attention on me, she can't get to him anymore.”

  “She's stalking you now,” I pointed out.  “If she knows this much shit, has got these people spying on your and slandering you, you need to get a lawyer.  This is scary stuff when you think about it, Jane, and it's probably only going to get worse.”

  “Yeah. As much as I hate to do it I think I'm going to call Angus and see if the lawyer that handled the stalking stuff with him will see what he can do about this mess.”  

   For the first time, I understood what Jane had meant when she said her relationship with Angus was complicated, when she had pointed out she had more of a history with him than she did with me.  He was intertwined with her life, he had been there for her through some really deep shit, he had been there when I wasn't.  Of course, she was reluctant to end things with him.  She may not have been in love with him but he was more than just some pretty schmuck who could buy her nice things, the way I had imagined it. I realized I had been judging her pretty unfairly too, it wasn't just Jared. I hadn't really been seeing Jane at all.

   “I never dreamed any of this was out there for other people to know about," she said miserably. “If I had I would have known what Jared's problem was right away, could have tried to reason with him instead of just amping the fight up higher. Fuck the internet and fuck Lacey and her crazy ass fans.”  Jane took my hand and looked at me. “Please believe me. I know to hear her tell it I'm a manipulative little money grubbing whore who sleeps her way to whatever she wants.  And I'll admit I have made some questionable decisions.  But I've never used anyone, at least not anyone that didn't want to be used.  I mean those guys that used to buy me things, back in the day, I was always upfront about exactly what our relationship was.” She chuckled softly.  “I learned that lesson the hard way but it only took me once.  Everyone on the same page.”

   I knew I had been that lesson.  And my heart hurt for Jane now.  Life had apparently had a lot more lessons for her and it seemed to determined to teach them all to her the hard way.  I could understand how bad this looked.  I understood why Jared was upset and afraid of having her anywhere near me.  But I knew he was wrong.  I had been blind to how much Jane had changed, how much she had been through, but I was certain what she was telling me was the truth.  I'd bet my arms on it. There were a lot of things Jane was good at.  Deception wasn't one of them.  

   “I believe you.  And I'm so sorry you had to go through all that.  I wish I could have been there for you.” I pulled her up against me and her head fell into my chest as a fresh round of sobs poured from her.  She thought no one knew.  She had been carrying this all around like a secret and I knew first hand how much secrets eat at people. And as I held her tightly I realized all her new bravado, her sophistication, her fancy clothes, the titles after her name, they were souvenirs of where she had been, like stamps on a passport. They didn't change who she was.  She was still gentle, sentimental Janey, who took everyone as they were, who loved adventure because her heart was open to it. And I was still her Shannon, her wild but cuddly rock god as she put it, even with all the new trappings of acclaimed records and fans and magazine articles. But we needed to start figuring out how to make all these new parts work together or we were going to lose the 'us' underneath that we valued so much. The first thing we were going to have to straighten out was Jared. He was the one person that had the power to take this whole ship down with him. Once Jane had composed herself again we got dressed, had some breakfast, and went to confront my brother.

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli  @maliciousalishious @snewsome756 @meghan12151977

[a--musings]

The good listeners.

July 12, 2019. People only enjoy my company because I offer them a place where they can talk about themselves incessantly and overzealously for hours. That’s all most people really want. Most people will jump on any opportunity to focus on themselves and hear their own voice, and can quickly sense that I will give them the chance to do just that. I am a very good listener; I listen because I enjoy understanding different types of personalities and figuring people out. I enjoy listening to people’s thoughts and perspectives, especially when they’re so vastly different from my own. It is interesting to discover how someone else views the same thing, and it’s fun to ponder how they created their frameworks. But I am most often left baffled because most people can rant for hours and hours without asking me a question in return, or even noticing that the conversation has been entirely one-sided the whole time. I am constantly having complete conversations with a person by contributing absolutely nothing. I often times can tell that a person is already forming their next sentence before I even get my first word out. I can see them detach as they become distracted by their own thoughts. It’s bizarre. I am astounded by the lack of awareness. 

And that’s precisely why I stopped going on random dates with random men months ago. I am incapable of going on a first date that doesn’t last for hours, in which I am left absolutely unmoved and utterly exhausted by listening and nodding politely to the ceaseless monologues. I am astounded that these men actually believe the date was a complete success, blissfully ignorant of the fact that I simply offered a free 5-hour therapy session that allowed them to open up for the first time in their machismo world. But I get bored by the predictable eagerness of the pleads for a second date. They spent the entire time trying to convince me that they were worthy, but never realized they never put in the effort to discover if I were worthy enough for them as well. All I did was sit there and listen. At no point in our interaction did I ever show myself and open myself up. At no point was I able to express genuinely myself or give them a chance to become acquainted with me. How exactly did they know we had chemistry? How did they know were actually compatible? How did they know they wanted to see me again? If you replaced me with an unbiased psychologist, the interactions would likely be the same. Within two hours of meeting one guy, I knew about the death of his father during his childhood years, and how it altered his family dynamic. I’ll never forget the excruciating detail of every daily interaction one surgical intern had with every anesthesiologist. I still squirm in disgust when I think about the arrogant neuroscience research assistant, condescendingly explaining simple parts of the brain, and unaware of the neuroscience degree I already held, and that I had been a neuro grad student at an Ivy League university, simply because he didn’t even ask what I did. Could most of these men even name three things about me? Very rarely ever. They weren’t interested in me. They were interested in the opportunity I offered them to grant them moments of self-absorption and elusive preoccupation with themselves entirely. I was a place--a concept. I never felt the need to talk to them ever again. 

But it’s not just dating. It happens with “friends” too, and it is just...draining. What makes it all so much worse is that when people talk about themselves, they rarely say anything interesting, insightful, inspiring, or new. Most people, I hate to admit, are really just not that interesting at all, and you can pry and pry and ask thought-provoking questions but you will still get nothing out of them. But that’s fine. I respect all ranges of personalities, and you can’t expect every single person to offer you something you will find useful, or even just entertaining at all times. Some people simply lack the life experiences or emotional maturity to impart any wisdom that appeases my curiosities. That’s okay. But truthfully, I can’t help but attach some kind of judgment to the one-sided, bad conversationalists who, quite frankly, just come off as self-centered. Some people don’t really have anything that speaks to my personal curiosities--fine. Certainly, I am in a totally unique environment full of heightened arrogance; these cases of flagrant narcissism have been different. But when a person is boring because they can’t talk about anything but themselves? When they come disengaged and their eyes gloss over as they very unquestionably search for ways to steer the conversation back to themselves? That is infuriating. 

I can say that most people know significantly less about me than I know about them. I know more about friends’ family members, whom I have never even met, than these friends know about me. It wrecked me for a while. It disappointed me. It made me feel used and belittld, as if I don’t offer anything valuable but a soapbox for people to step on and declare their own self-love, or a place to hold someone’s bags while they stepped in the spotlight to shine and bask in their moments of glory. It made me feel uninteresting and one-dimensional, as if people didn’t want to spend time with the real me because nobody was intrigued by me. People were constantly drawn to me and found me magnetic solely because they wanted mirror to look into; essentially, that’s how it was. I grew incredibly, intolerably bored with humanity, and all the humans that consistently made minimal contributions to my life. Why didn’t anyone else have this problem? I would always watch people talk to each other, but they would always talked at me. Eventually I realized nobody has this problem because I’m pretty freakin great and unique in my ability to really listen and step outside of my own existence for a moment to give someone my full allegiance. I take interest in people and things outside of myself, and I understand people with empathy, and without passing judgment. I am effortlessly skilled at learning how people think and quickly figuring out how to communicate back to them in a relatable way. People talk about themselves so much to me because I earnestly prompt them to open up, and they might be forced to bottle themselves up elsewhere. I should see this as a good thing.

Very few people have the ability to recognize and realize moments of self-centeredness, or the ability to think outside of themselves. It has become such an admirable, rare quality for a person to be aware enough to know they have been talking so much about themselves that they’ve totally disregarded the interlocutor. It is such a rare, admirable quality to be peculiar and immensely curious about the outside world and everyone in it. That’s why when I do finally stumble upon a needle in the haystack, and finally experience a refreshing moment of interacting with someone who is both interested and interesting, I become absolutely enthralled by their company and cherish our relationship so deeply. I search and search for someone who genuinely wants to hear me and offer compassion. It feels like one in a million times, I finally feel the heartwarming sentiment of hope from recognized awareness and genuine interest in the other, or I finally hear the simple “but enough about me, how about you?” Those moments make me forget about the ennui of most human exchanges.

In writing this, I realized my shift in perspective, as I once thought these types of interactions represented a disparaging flaw in myself. Now I recognize that it is merely a reflection of a positive quality I have harnessed and constantly exude so naturally. It is so very healing to consider other alternatives that explain your experiences, as opposed concluding with the negative, insulting, and self-victimizing reasoning. Perception is reality, and I think the change in viewpoint both reinforces and reveals a growing self-compassion within me.

—a.

[trasholantern]

So like. My anxiety and subsequent suicidal ideation is at its most significant low in years. I don’t want my friends to worry because i won’t actually kill myself, at the very least i need to stick around to take care of my dad. I just. I wish so much this wasn’t something i even thought about or wanted. I honestly don’t know what it’s like to not think death would be easier than dealing with failure and disappointing people and i hate that so much. I just feel like I’ve been around for 23 years and have nothing to show for it and there’s too Much going on and i just want to be useful but i can’t even be that. My grandpa is dying and my dad is deteriorating. I don’t feel like i belong in grad school and i feel like if I’m not driven/determined /goal oriented they don’t want me there. I can’t talk to my mentor who convinced me to go because it turned out he was a sexual predator that I don’t want anything to do with. I drink to much and spend too much money on alcohol because otherwise i can barely sleep, can barely get through a day. Which is bad and i know it but i don’t have anything else to fall back on and it’s cheaper than a therapist, and they’ve never seemed to help besides giving me meds anyways. And now those aren’t even helping. I can’t tell my family I’m trans. If i started H RT and got top surgery– which i can’t Afford anyway– my father literally would not recognize me anymore. I’m so lost. I feel so weak. I’ve always felt weak. I wish so much I felt strong or capable or useful. I wish I was dead or in pain because I feel like I deserve it but I can’t even do that because if I self harm / relapse again I’ll just hate myself more. I don’t know anything and I don’t belong anywhere and people keep asking what i want to do for a career and it just feels like they’re shoving that in my face.

[doyoudrew]

How To Pull A Nancy Drew

By someone who hasn’t done it yet.... but this is my life’s work.

It’s under the cut because it’s really fucking long.

Step 1A: the most important step: realize taking the traditional route isn’t making you happy.

         You can’t be Nancy if you want stability or want to go on to grad/professional school or if you are excited about your new job and want to jump right into it—it won’t be good for you. I’m doing my post-grad-family-disappointment-vagabond-journey because I hate school and I’m so burnt out I haven’t gone to a full week of class at all this semester. This is the right choice for me, and I know this because I’ve been traveling while I’m in school and realize it’s when I’m happiest. If this isn’t true for you, don’t do something like not accept your grad school offer or turn down a grown-up job. What I’m saying is: don’t do anything you’re going to regret. Pulling a Nancy Drew is still kind of a commitment. It’s one you can get out of pretty easily, but you might have to wait a while to get into the next stage of your life.

The entire point of doing this is to make yourself happy. Only take trips or internships or jobs that make you happy. Don’t do it if it’s going to make you unhappy.

 Step 1B: Finish your semester/year/graduate.

         This is important. Don’t just drop out of school. If you can hold out until you actually graduate, do it: then you’ll have your degree for when you decide to stop being a figurative leaf in the wind, and you can use it to get a real job. Also, some of volunternships require a 4-year degree, and they are one way to start doing what Nancy does. And, if you’d prefer real office work, you have to either be in college or have recently graduated to get traditional internships.

 Step 2: Get a job.

         If you’re still in college, only do this if you can work while you’re in school. If you’re out, then no offense, but you should’ve been doing something already.

         The job you get is going to be crappy and not pay very well, but it is going to pay, and it’s going to be one that lets you take time off easily. I’m a server. I make pretty decent money because, not to brag, but I’m pretty good at it. I don’t have a limit on how much time I’m allowed to take off and if I feel like I’m not making enough I can pick up more shifts. More importantly, I like my job and I like everyone I work with. If you hate yours or you’re bad at it, find a new job. I realize that might sound a little “trickle-down economics”… my point is: just make sure you’re working and you don’t hate it. All of this is a personal thing, so do what works best for you. When I was in high school I worked at Zaxby’s to support my travel habit. One of my close friends was a lifeguard. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as you don’t want to rip your face off when you walk into work and they let you take time off to travel.

 Step 3: Stop buying stuff.

         If you start reading this Step 3 and thenthink, “I already don’t buy stuff, this is really condescending, I still don’t have any money” then just skip it. My feelings won’t be hurt.

         “Stop buying stuff? Easier said than done” you might say. I don’t.

         You have to pay your rent, or for car repairs, or for your prescriptions, or for a new pair of contacts. I get that. You have to buy food, too. That’s not “stuff”. Those are necessities.

         “Stuff” is like, a thirtieth skincare product that still smells weird and still doesn’t make you look like Jennifer Aniston. “Stuff” is, for me, a millionth pair of lacy underwear to shove in the overflowing drawer. More craft supplies that I don’t use. Another freaking mug when I have so many I can’t close my cabinet. If you can figure out what Minette means by “stuff”, you can figure out what “stuff” means for you. Maybe it’s socks or razors or DVDs. Figure it out and stop buying it.

         I get it, stuff is pretty, and buying it feels nice and can occasionally work to prove to yourself that you’re an adult on a day you really need convincing. But it’s a temporary high! I can’t help you combat impulse buys (I still deal with it myself. I’m writing this and thinking of the 8—yes eight­—candles I bought from Family Dollar yesterday for no reason other than ~aesthetic~ when I read at night, because I’m a hypocrite and a whore) but I can help you find cheaper shit. Use discount cards, buy things when there’s a sale, go to secondhand stores for books and clothes and furniture, when you get new clothes make sure you can wear them in more than one outfit.

         I realize you probably already know all of these things. Stop Buying Stuff is probably one of the harder things to master, but you can do it. Do it in your own way. Or if you can’t, read one of the millions of Pinterest articles written by blog moms about saving money. I had to stop writing this step because I started sounding like them, which I never want to do.

TL;DR: A lot of times it feels like what I’m buying is a necessity, but it isn’t. Just be aware of what you’re buying, and don’t get it if it isn’t going to change your life.

 Step 4: Where you gonna live while you’re being a bum?

         At this moment in time, I live by myself in a sweet-ass apartment. I only have one very quiet neighbor, I use piles of books as furniture and my bedroom consists of a mattress on the floor, one lonely dresser, and a milk-crate as a bedside table. I love living by myself. But after I graduate, when the loan that I use for my housing runs out, am I gonna be able to stay here? Maybe not.

         The reasons I probably won’t be able to stay in my apartment after August, when my lease runs out: my heating bill in the winter is insane and I won’t be able to afford it. I would be paying rent on a place I’ll be away from for weeks or months. I’ll have to repay the aforementioned loan, on top of making travel arrangements. If this sounds like you, you might have to make the hard decision to leave your home sweet apartment too.

Option one: move back home. I’m lucky enough to have a good enough relationship with my family, and for my dad to have a house big enough, for me to move in with him later if I want to. It would be the cheapest option, and I know I would get along with my roommates (i.e., my dad and my dog). Living with your parents isn’t sexy, but if your life is going to look like a cycle of working nonstop for a month and then leaving the country for a few, it’s the most pragmatic. Also, Nancy Drew still lives at home, and that’s really what this is all about.

         Option two is to find some roommates. Living with someone means you still have rent and utilities to pay, but it’s much cheaper than living on your own, and you know someone will be at your house while you’re off gallivanting around the world. Make sure you like your roommates: I have had terrible experience with roommates and at this given moment, there is only one person I would actually consider moving in with—and it would cut down on my living expenses.

         Of course, there are other fluke options that you personally might have. If they sound good, take them. Remember, this entire thing is just guidelines, about how I’m going to pull a Nancy—if you want to do this too, do it your own way!

         Also, very importantly, your living arrangements depend on what kind of traveling you’re going to do. Want to teach English in Japan? Great, but that’ll probably last six months to a year. Want to take a road trip out West? Cool, is it a two week road trip or a month-long one? Maybe you just want to live at the beach or in a state park for a week. Do it. If you want to backpack New Zealand you could do it in two weeks, but that plane ticket is going to be hella expensive, and you need to make sure your bills are covered while you’re being a world traveler.

 Step 5: The best step: Start planning your trips.

         This, obviously, is completely up to you. If you do want to do things exactly like Nancy does, you’ll probably take a lot of internships. For the record, the way she lives her life is completely unrealistic, because she has absolutely no experience or direction and yet they just appear for her, and I’m jealously annoyed by that.

         Trips vary in length and expenses. I recommend picking one and sticking with it. I also heavily advocate doing something like, having a work-travel-work cycle—basically you just come home to work. That’s my plan, anyway. Also, don’t forget that there’s probably cool things to do near your hometown, and you can do those things while you’re there.

         If you’re afraid your degree is worthless without grad school, fear not! I’m here to tell you it isn’t. I feel confident telling you that because my degree is in anthropology, the mother of all useless degrees, and yet I have never been afraid about finding a job. When I realized I didn’t want to go to med school, I honestly just typed “anthropology degree jobs” into the indeed.com search bar and a million different jobs came up. Do that with your degree and I’m sure you’ll find a bunch of things to do with it. Also, there are several entry-level jobs that just require a degree—any degree. Indeed and Monster are also decent ways to find internships, if you’re looking for them. Anyway:

 Traditional Internship finders:

http://www.internshipfinder.com/

https://www.looksharp.com/s/summer-internships

http://www.internships.com/

http://www.idealist.org/ ß for nonprofit/humanitarian/volunteer-esque types of internships or real jobs. This one is actually a site I use a lot.

(if these don’t make you happy, use google)

 Short, fun, pay-your-own-way Volunteer trips:

http://www.himalayanhealth.com/ (India; I did this in the summer of 2014 and loved it, it’s an awesome program and you learn a lot while you’re there working in public health camps)

http://www.habitat.org/volunteer/long-term-opportunities/international (habitat for Humanity abroad--this is not a short trip, be warned)

https://www.volunteerforever.com/article_post/2016-best-volunteer-abroad-programs-organizations-projects (to help you decide because I don’t want to read 900 articles for this one blog post)

 Et Cetera:

https://www.internationalteflacademy.com/blog/bid/51364/top-5-countries-to-make-the-most-money-teaching-english-overseas (about teaching English overseas a la Shadow at the Water’s Edge; there are several programs for this so… do your research)

http://wwoof.net/ (volunteering on farms in almost every country; a family friend did this and now speaks fluent Italian. there is an incredibly strong possibility that I will go WWOOFing in the near future)

https://www.peacecorps.gov/ (can’t forget the peace corps exists)

https://www.nationalservice.gov/programs/americorps (the peace corps’ domestic sibling, if you want to volunteer but want to stay in the states)

 There are plenty of other very cool programs for pretty much anywhere you want to go. Pick a place and then use your google (that’s basically how I plan my trips).

ALSO, you can take trips just to take trips. This is generally what I personally do, except for the times I took study abroad trips in college. I’m also very about traveling domestically—these are generally cheaper trips and there’s a lot of cool stuff to see in the US. If you already have a road trip buddy, hold on to them tight.

If you’re a road tripper, you should look at how to turn your car into a camper. It can be done with almost any car (except, like, a miata, obviously). I have a pathfinder and I’m going to convert it and just leave it that way so that I can go camping at the drop of a hat—but the conversions are really simple and if you just want to convert it for a trip and then put it back , you can.

 Other parting thoughts:

·        If you can supplement your income by doing something creative, selling stuff, doing any type of freelancing, etc: do it.

·        Paying for parking is for chumps.

·        You don’t need to own more than one pair of sweatpants.

·        Nancy always sounds really put together, but the reality of being a travel bum is that you’re going to be a grungy person for a while. It’s fine, because the people around you are also grungy, and really all of you are just there to have a good time.

·        I cannot stress how much you don’t need a closetful of clothes.

·        When packing for anything, try to be able to fit it all into a carry-on size bag. Checking bags is also for chumps.

·        Get and use good soft-sided luggage, like a duffle or a frame-pack. Suitcases are real cutesy but they end up taking up a lot of space and are hard to navigate with.

·        As much as I just rambled about not spending money, there are some things you should splurge for. These are: good quality versatile shoes (I love Chacos, personally), good luggage, a reusable water bottle and/or travel mug that’s going to last you, a portable charger for when there are no outlets, et cetera. But if you spend money on these things, you can’t spend money on stuff, because you’ll run out of money. Ps—you can find decent luggage at a thrift store. I bought a Kelty frame pack at a flea marker for $12. It doesn’t have to be expensive to be good.

·        If you’re a road tripper and love camping, look into getting a pass for all the state parks in your state. If you like other things, like amusement parks, look into getting a season pass (the Carowinds family of amusement parks goes all the way up the East Coast, for instance, and there’s some kind of season pass you can get that lets you into all of them).

 That’s all I have for right now. I’m sorry it took so long for me to make this (and that it’s such a long post) but I’m glad I finally did it! Feel free to message me for anything, especially if you have questions. I’m not sure if this is as clear as I want it to be, but here’s to hoping.