#Masters Degree from Canada

[myglobaluni]

Apply for Masters Degree from Canada - Planning to study Masters in Study Abroad. Choose Canada for your Master's study. Here you can know about pursuing a Masters's Degree in Canada. Read more at

[strohller27]

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[aristotels]

i knew a girl once with a masters degree, working on her phd, and when she came to canada for a friends wedding she was surprised to learn that we had railways. she was from ohio, specifically a city where you could literally see canada across the lake

i had an usamerican tourist tell me, straight to my face, in croatia, that he was surprised we have internet, because he thought we. dont have electricity.

anyway enjoy my favourite tweet ever

(neither croatia nor bosnia use cyrillics btw lol)

[uwmspeccoll]

Staff Pick of the Week

My staff pick this week is the trade edition of The Tale of the Shining Princess by Japanese-born writer Hisako Matsubara (b.1935) and Japanese-Canadian artist-printmaker Naoko Matsubara (b.1937), published by Kodansha International LTD. Tokyo, Japan in 1966. 

As a artist-printmaker and bookmaker who makes woodcuts, I am greatly inspired by Naoko’s prints. Naoko Matsubara’s work carries on traditions of Japanese printmaking while having its own contemporary flavor. Her woodcuts are ecstatic, they are vibrating with movement. Her use of bold shapes and the white line of the the carving tool makes the most of what woodcut has to offer. In the book form, the active images carry the reader’s eyes through the book space. Her use of negative space activates the page. Additionally, her woodcuts have translated beautifully to commercial printing. 

The Matsubara sisters are daughters of a senior Shinto priest, and were raised in Kyoto. Both studied, lived, and worked in the United States. Hisako received her Master of Arts degree from Pennsylvania State College, moving to Germany where she continued her studies and became a prominent writer, publishing her work in Japanese, English, and German. In the 1980s she moved back to the United States, this time to California where she worked at Stanford University. 

Naoko received her Master of Fine Arts from Carnegie Institute of Technology in Pittsburgh, now Carnegie Mellon University. After her studies she traveled across Europe and Asia. She returned to the United States and became the personal assistant to the artist and wood engraver Fritz Eichenberg, an artist who has been featured many times on our blog. Naoko taught at Pratt University in New York and at the University of Rohde Island. She also lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts for a time. Naoko is currently living and working in Canada in Oakville, Ontario, where she continues to work and exhibit nationally. 

The work of both Hisako and Naoko have had great influence inside the United States and around the world. So lets celebrate their accomplishments! 

This book has end sheets of mulberry paper with inclusions of Bamboo leaves, the cover is a red textured paper with a gold stamped design by Naoko. 

View some of our other AAPI selections for this month.

View our other Staff Picks.

- Teddy, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[onceuponatown]

The Loomis Radio School, Washington D.C. ca. 1921.

The school was located at 401 Ninth St. N.W. and operated with the call letters 3YA. By 1920 it was offering a six month course enabling the graduate to obtain a first grade commercial radio license and by January of 1922 was offering a four year course with a degree in Radio Engineering bestowed on graduates.

The school was founded by Mary Texanna Loomis, pictured in the last photo.

Born August 18, 1880 near Goliad, Texas. She was the second child born to Alvin Isaac and Caroline (Dryer) Loomis. Though born on homestead in Texas in 1880, by 1883 her parents had returned to Rochester NY and then on to Buffalo where Alvin became president of a large delivery and storage company. Little is known of her early years, but appears she had a fairly middle-class up bringing. She seemed well schooled, with an early interest in music and language (she mastered French, German and Italian) Her early years were spent in Buffalo, NY and she later relocated to Virginia. 

During the early years of World War I, she became interested in the new field of wireless telegraphy. There was a family precedent; her cousin, Dr. Mahlon Loomis, had conducted early wireless experiments with moderate success and may in fact have been the first person, in 1865, to send and receive wireless signals. 

Mary soon became proficient enough in wireless telegraphy to be granted a license by the United States Department of Commerce. Thoroughly fascinated with the field now called “radio”, she decided to turn her expertise into a career. Also, she wanted to do something that would honor her pioneering ancestor. Her idea was to do this by founding a radio school. 

Though radio was indeed, for many years, a profession dominated by men, Mary Loomis around age 40 took no notice and in 1920 founded the Loomis Radio School in Washington, D.C. and it quickly gained an excellent reputation. Ms. Loomis set high standards for the school and it attracted students not only from the United States but Europe and Asia as well. Loomis enjoyed teaching as much as she enjoyed radio itself. In an interview, she said, “Really, I am so infatuated with my work that I delight in spending from 12 to 15 hours a day at it. My whole heart and soul are in this radio school.” 

As president and Lecturer of the Loomis Radio School, Mary authored a definitive book on radio, named “Radio Theory and Operating.” 

By January 1922 the school was offering a four year course with a degree in Radio Engineering bestowed on graduates. Loomis also intended that her students understand more than just the inner and outer workings of radio. In addition to a radio laboratory (with equipment constructed almost entirely by Mary herself), the school maintained a complete shop capable of teaching carpentry, drafting and basic electricity. She reasoned that many of her graduates might find themselves at sea, or in other challenging situations and she wanted them adequately prepared. “No man,” Ms. Loomis said, at the time, “can graduate from my school until he learns how to make any part of the apparatus. I give him a blueprint of what I want him to do and tell him to go into the shop and keep hammering away until the job is completed.” 

The school appears to have been in existence at least through the early 1930's, but it has not been possible to find information after that.

In an interview given to H.O. Bishop of the Dearborn Independent in 1921, Mary was asked: “What sort of young men are taking up the radio profession?” to which she replied:

“The Kind who have grit and want to get there! Virtually all of them are ambitious and enthusiastic over the possibility of visiting every nook and corner of the world. My students are not only enrolled from various sections of the USA and Canada but from many foreign countries, such as Sweden, Ireland, England, Poland, Russia, Austria, Rumania and the Philippines. One of the brightest pupils I ever had was Prince Walimuhomed of Far-away Afghanistan. He was an extremely modest young man, keeping his real identity a secret until after graduating. He said he had no idea of earning his living by working at radio, but just wanted to know all about it. He does.You have no idea how much happiness I get out of the success of each individual graduate. My boys keep in touch with me from all parts of the world. Scarcely a day goes by that I do not get some trinket or postcard from some remote section of the world. I have made the wonderful discovery that the only way for me to get happiness for myself is to make some one else happy. I find that I am making these young men happy by teaching them every phase of the radio business so that they can earn a comfortable living for themselves and their dependents and at the same time, see the great big beautiful world.

As far as we can figure out, Mary Loomis left Washington D.C. around 1935 and moved to San Francisco where she worked as a stenographer. She died in 1960 and is interred at Woodlawn Memorial Park, Colma, CA. 

Source

[mrs-liebgott]

Ya'll bitches who watched Masters of The Air?? Our boys Cleven and Crosby went WILD in academics.

Buck:

"After the Second World War, Cleven stayed in the US Air Force serving in Korea, Vietnam and with a spell at the Pentagon. He retired in 1964 with the rank of Colonel. While in the service Cleven had earned an MBA from Harvard Business School and a doctorate in physics and following retirement initially worked in IT for Hughes Aircraft. Later he took over the management of Webber College in Florida which at the time had only fifty students and a poor reputation. He was able to turn it around and it later became a university specializing in business studies. " - Gale Winston Cleven | American Air Museum IM SORRY A FUCKING DOCTORATE IN PHYSICS???? COLONEL. DR. GALE WINSTON "BUCK" CLEVEN???? Croz:

"On returning to the US, Crosby resumed his studies, completing his M.A. in 1947 and his PhD in 1953. He taught English composition, writing several books on the subject. He also carried out work for the US Air Force Academy and the Pakistan Air Force Academy. In 1993, Harper Collins published his memoir of his wartime experiences, titled A Wing and a Prayer." - Harry Herbert Crosby | American Air Museum

"Returning to school, Crosby graduated from the University of Iowa in 1947 with his master's degree, and then earned his PhD from Stanford University in 1953, where Wallace Stegner supervised his dissertation. Harry taught English composition and American literature at the University of Iowa, and was the Writing Supervisor of the Rhetoric Program (1950–1958).[2]

In 1958, Crosby moved with his wife and four children to Newton, Massachusetts, for a faculty position at the College of Basic Studies (CBS) at Boston University. He retired from Boston University in 1984, after chairing the Department of Rhetoric at CBS and authoring or co-authoring with CBS colleagues six textbooks on college writing:[2]

College Writing – The Rhetorical Imperative; Harper & Row, 1968 Just Rhetoric, Crosby/Esty; Harper & Row 1972 The Shape of Thought: An Analytical Anthology, Bond/Crosby; Harper & Row, 1978 Building College Spelling Skills, Crosby/Emery; Little Brown; 1981 Better Spelling in 30 Minutes a Day, Crosby/Emery; Harper Collins 1994 Skill Builders – A Spelling Workout, Crosby/Emery; Harper Collins, 1997

During his early retirement, Crosby served as Director of the Writing Center at Harvard University." - Harry Herbert Crosby - Wikipedia CROZ GRADUATED FROM FUCKING STANFORD, A PHD TOO!!! in conclusion, these boys are academic weapons P.S. Croz's Autobiography in case any of ya'll were interested: Amazon.com: A Wing and a Prayer: The "Bloody 100th" Bomb Group of the US Eighth Air Force in Action Over Europe in World War II: 9781504067331: Crosby, Harry H.: Books and a list of libraries it's in across the world: A wing and a prayer : the "Bloody 100th" Bomb Group of the U.S. Eighth Air Force in action over Europe in World War II | WorldCat.org

Mostly USA but as of (5/29/24 or 29/5/24) there are

457 in USA 8 in Canada 1 In Ireland (Dublin) 35 in UK

if you chose yes^ feel free to dm me/send an ask with facts or stories you find and i'll try my best to post them!! (you can send pictures with too!! my discord is babydoll_donowitz)

[mayiwritesomething]

Love Is An Unfamiliar Name (pt. 2)

Snacks

Wordcount: 1,9 k

Warnings: none

A/N: hope you enjoy as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

PART ONE

—————

Few months had passed since THAT NIGHT, you had finished two short movie scores. Like many composers, you occasionally played with a band, starting out as a sound engineer intern during your music bachelor's degree. It was during this time that you met the group who would later invite you to become their bass player for live shows. Almost fifteen years down the line, there you were, laying down bass lines for their next album.

As the session ended, you reached for your water bottle when your bandmate, Tim, called out to you. "Hey there, kiddo. I know you're taking some time off soon. Can I count on you for the upcoming tour? I'm planning just a few shows so I can spend more time with the kids," he mentioned while packing his gear. 

"Timmy, you know I'll be there! By June, I should have everything wrapped up so we can start post-production," you assured him. Tim happened to be Amy's husband, whom you introduced, and they had been together for nearly a decade.

"When are you leaving?" he inquired.

"Next Monday, I'm off to Alberta, then back to LA for a few days, off to Paris, then back to Canada, and on and on," you explained.

"The way you put it, it sounds like just a month or two," Johnny chimed in.

"Come on! I don't know why you're talking like that. Most of your work will be in post-production," you retorted, playfully pushing him. Johnny, a master in sound effects, was also part of your team, along with Tim, who excelled in translating emotions into music. Tim, however, would be less involved this time due to his newborn daughter. While he would assist on set some days, you had planned most of his work for the final score during post-production.

"I'll admit, I'm just as nervous as you are," Johnny confessed. "Things are getting real now."

"It sure is, and you're both in this with me. If you mess up, I'll fire you with no mercy," you teased, laughing.

 

"Remember when we met this girl man, she was 20-something, sitting shy behind a board working on synthesizers? Years later, she's our boss in the cinematographic world." Tim beamed proudly, resembling an older brother.

"Well, you know I'm here because you never let me fall," you expressed gratefully, recalling how they had always supported you as if you were their little sister, even during your toughest times.

"Oh, I forgot how cute and loving you can be sometimes." Johnny embraced you, joined by Jim and Lucas, the drummer who had just entered the room, unaware of the conversation.

"What would I do without you guys?" You chuckled, feeling a sense of belonging, and these guys made it feel like home.

 

—-

 

On Sunday, you began packing your luggage, gathering everything you needed to feel comfortable in the hotel that would serve as your Canadian residence for the coming months.

 

Monday morning, you double-checked everything once again before meeting Jenny at the airport around 2:00 PM to catch your flight, realizing the scale of the project as the entire crew was set to travel on a private flight.

Spotting Jenny amidst a small group at the airport, you recognized familiar faces from the sound department. While conversing with your new colleagues and waiting to check in, you headed to the self-service area for snacks when a familiar voice caught your attention from behind.

"Just make sure not to take the Reese's, Mrs. Coordinator," the voice teased.

"I'm more of an M&M's kind of girl," you retorted playfully. "You can have it all; it’s not like I care... - Pedro," you replied, turning to face him.

"Wow, you can be quite rude sometimes. Has anyone ever told you that?" Pedro seemed taken aback.

"That's just my way of showing affection," you quipped, attempting to break the ice, the joke clear in your mind.

"Like a hedgehog, huh? Got it, Sonic," Pedro replied, retrieving his items. The mention of Sonic brought a smile to your face.

"Sonic?" you questioned.

"Yeah, the hedgehog, Mrs. Coordinator," he continued teasing.

"Please, stop calling me that," you insisted.

"Sonic?" Pedro teased again.

"You're incredibly annoying, has anyone ever told you that?" You fired back.

"A few times, but at least I don’t jump to conclusions about someone else's personality," Pedro responded, a hint of a smile appearing as he took a sip of water.

"What's the matter, dude?" Your feisty side emerged. "I already apologized for that, and now you're going to keep bringing this up every chance you get?" He was right; you can be very rude. "I mean... I'm not... I... 

"Nothing's wrong." Pedro's smile faded. "I thought you'd be okay with a joke about a stupid situation, one that, let's be clear, you created. Yes, I brought it up as a joke for the first and last time… ‘cause it seems we have different senses of humor," he continued earnestly. You found yourself agreeing with him, but you were too proud to give up.

"Alright, maybe we do have different humors. And you were the one who called me rude in the first place." You knew this time you sounded like a neglected child.

"Did I lie?"

"No," you conceded, trying not to sound stubborn. "But since we're going to be working together, perhaps we should try to understand each other better. I was joking about the Reese's incident, you know." You sounded just like your therapist now. “…And”

 

"FINALLY, THERE YOU ARE! May and I have been wandering around like two old ladies looking for their cats," Jenny chimed in, appearing out of nowhere like an angel to save you from yourself.

"Hey Jennifer, how's it going?" Pedro greeted her with a hug that got you thinking. You don’t hug Jenny quite as often as you should. "We were just discussing how we're going to make things work."

"Sure, we were," you muttered, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

"Ah, I see you've already experienced this girl's unique sense of humor," Jenny remarked, trying to lighten the mood. Though her comment irritated you, you knew she meant well.

"Unfortunately, he has, Jen," you replied, attempting to sound nice.

"Jenny, have you ever heard the phrase 'all bark, no bite'? It seems like your friend here fits that bill," Pedro observed with a cynical smile, not in a malicious way but more like a curious mind pondering your next move. Was he provoking you? You got confused...

"I can bite, but only if you ask nicely," you retorted, catching him off guard. His cheeks flushed, Jenny chuckled, and she made her way to the self-service area.

"What happened, ‘Mr. I have an answer to everything’? Cat got your tongue?" You teased him, noting his silence as he processed your response. You started to feel a bit foolish.

"Talking to you is truly a rollercoaster," Pedro remarked, attempting to sound confident, though you noticed his hand twitching. "That's a compliment, Sonic. Before you decide to pounce on me," he added shyly and genuinely. What just happened? Why did you do this to someone who isn’t your usual type? Well, you might be a wooden heart, but certainly you’re not dead. 

"See you around then?" He regained his confidence. "All bark, no bite." 

You were on the verge of responding that you hoped not, but before you could, he approached you and gently patted your shoulder, his hand resting there for a moment. A surge of electricity shot through your body so swiftly that you felt like a supernova had just exploded within you. Startled, you stepped back, fear creeping in. What was happening?

"Hey?" He looked confused. "Are you okay?"

You nodded in affirmation, and he smiled, remarking, "Quick reflexes, huh?” 

This time, you were caught off guard. Physical touch was something you weren’t used to. Your body language resembled that of a feral cat—life had shaped you into this defensive creature. Earth Calling. 

"Haha," you attempted to maintain the cool facade you had two minutes ago, "Isn't speed one of Sonic's powers?"

"I guess it is.”

"Well, are we cool then?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

"Why wouldn't we be?" he responded. 

"Pedro, we just..."

"It's okay," he reassured, moving closer as you instinctively stepped back, clutching your pack of peanut butter M&M's like a protective talisman. "Hey, it's really okay. You've said what you needed to say, and I've done the same. We're cool." Sensing your anxiety, he urged, "Trust me."

"Okay, I think we should head back.” You said. “Jenny and May are probably feigning indecision over their purchases to make sure we don’t kill ourselves," you suggested, opening your M&M's pack. He observed your delicate movements, ensuring the package remained intact.

"I’m sure of that... Just like how Jenny watches out for you, May prevents me from fucking things up," Pedro remarked with a laugh.

"Two grown adults with their babysitters," you joked, glancing over his shoulder at Jenny and May. You signaled for them to join you and Pedro, as he turned and did the same. 

"Hey, Hi!" May approached you enthusiastically. "I couldn't believe it when Pedro said he'd be working with you! I don't want to sound like a fangirl, but I love your music work! The last score you created was fantastic, and your work with Mended Fragments... I can't wait to see you guys perform live again!"

"Oh, uh, thank you... May," you replied, extending your hand. "I'm truly grateful to hear that,” you said shyly. “I must admit, I still don’t how to act in these situations, but I genuinely appreciate it." Your skin flushed with warmth. “We will play some gigs next year, i can get you some cool spots if you want”

"Really???" She was trying to hide how starstruck she was.

"Wow, enjoy it, May.” Pedro said, “She wasn't this friendly to me when we first met, and I told her I was a fan of her work. The very same day she called me the 'Game of Thrones guy.'" In that final sentence, he glanced at you like a cat poised to knock a cup of water off a table. He was teasing you, and he wanted you to know that.

This time, you didn't take the bait. Instead, you quipped, "You were on a date, Pedro, and my morals weren't the best that night. I'd rather not risk it." You chuckled, while Jenny smirked by his side.

"Come on!" He said it, feigning disappointment. "I thought we were due for another discussion," he glanced at you, "boriiiing."

"Guys, let's go. We have a flight to catch," May interjected, sensing the tension. The four of you made your way to meet the rest of the crew. Taking a seat beside Jenny, you found yourself smiling, and Jenny looked surprised at you.

"It's been a while since I've seen this," she remarked, her expression bright.

"See what?"

"This very one smile," she said, flashing her teeth.

"I'm not—"

"I'm not smiling. I don't feel anything. I'm the ice queen," she cut in, teasingly imitating you. "Everyone, look at how mean and bad I am." She continued…

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you responded, laughing and looking at the surroundings to ensure no one was paying attention.

"If anything happens between you two, you owe me 1000 bucks."

"Make it 2000, because nothing's going to happen. Deal?"

"Deal. I'm thrilled at the thought of being $2000 richer without doing anything."

"Keep dreaming," you retorted, picking up a book to read and acknowledging silently that she kind of had a point.

Fool.

[todaysromano]

You know what? My meeting is boring and was moved to 100% online this morning, so y'all get my head canons on what the main 8 characters of Hetalia + Romano and Canada would be as grad students.

Mind you, I'm in a materials science and engineering, so I don't really have a connection to what soft science (like political science or history), medical, or humanities grad school is like (and those are all valid degrees)

America: Everyone in his life from when he was in middle school knew that he would end up becoming a doctor of some sort. Getting into a PhD program wasn't actually that hard for him and he probably came straight from his undergrad degree (skipping the masters). He never has imposter syndrome, but is kind and encouraging to others.

England: He knew he wanted to be a professor when he graduated, so he took on every teaching opportunity the school offered. Sure, his research might have suffered some, but by his last year he was teaching a class on his own.

Russia: Other students rarely ever see him in the labs or office. He attends all meeting virtually, so some of his lab mates don't even know what he looks like. However, he always has new data meetings.

China: New students believe that he is a professor when they join the department because he's been a graduate student for so long. The admission chair silently hates him for not leaving (and his advisor for not letting him graduate) because he has single handedly brought up the average years to graduation.

France: He is involved in the graduate student government and attends every outreach program that his department put together. Others aren't sure how he has time for this and his research and classes, but he makes due just fine.

Italy: Somehow, he always makes the most beautiful figures for his papers, posters, and presentations. The process involves using Adobe products that no one else understands, and everyone is always asking for his help making their key figures. He's also won some competitions for his figures.

Germany: He went to work in industry for a few years before going back to school. He is exceptionally good at leaving work at work and not working late into the night or for the entire weekend. He tries to encourage new students to go home sometimes and have a hobby.

Japan: He is somehow always in the labs or offices, but not always doing work. Other students question if he even has a home to go to, or if he just likes being at work. And despite always being at work, hardly anyone ever holds a conversation with him.

Canada: His name is under the dictionary definition of Imposter Syndrome. He studied hard to get into grad school, but often feels inferior to his peers. However, his advisor is always proud of him and his work.

Romano: He is always running late to meetings and time slots he booked on instruments. He's also late to turning in manuscripts for his advisors to revise. However, his work is usually of pretty good quality.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you want to see any other characters.

[misshoneyimhome]

https://www.tumblr.com/misshoneyimhome/736812845987217408/i-have-no-idea-when-this-is-from-and-frankly-i

I’d like him to bend me over his desk and fuck me while he calls me a little slut for distracting him during lecture by sending him a dirty text with a lingerie photo.

You and me both bb! 😍

Did I perhaps get a bit carried away? Well, it's possible - do I happen to have a thing for professors... probably 🙈 Am I ashamed of it? Not at all!

I apologise (no I do not) if it holds more storyline than intended 😂

[Just a heads up; from what I've briefly looked into, professor-student relationships aren’t illegal in Canada as far as I can tell. However, there might be some disapproval due to the conflict of interest. It's a big debate, but I won't dive deeper into it 🙃]

Warnings; 18+ smut; unprotected sex (p in v); dominant kink; language (obviously);

Word count; 3k

・✶ ｡ﾟ

That's what I go to school for... ⚡️[AU]

"Alright, everyone! Here's what we're diving into today: cognitive-behavioural self-regulation techniques, emotion management, sportsmanship, and leadership skills," echoed the lecturer's voice in the packed hall of enthusiastic young adults, who were all exploring the cognitive and behavioural sides of sports psychology. "Don't forget those notes - it'll all come up in next week's test."

Whenever he spoke, it was like a sweet melody playing in your ears. And though initially signing up for this class was to pursue a career with sports teams, having a good-looking professor like William Nylander was definitely a bonus.

Nylander, known as the campus heartthrob, might as well have held that title at any university. His sleek, semi-long blond hair flowed down his neck, framing his incredibly handsome, bearded face. His deep blue eyes were perfectly accented by the golden rims of his glasses. And dressed sharply in a well-fitted suit, his muscular frame was impressive, complemented by his fashionable rings adorning his thick fingers and the chain around his neck.

In simple terms, you were head over heels for him.

And though you were fully aware of the taboo due to his role as your academic superior, you felt it was entirely worth the risk. Admittedly, you had already crossed that line with him more than once—alright, maybe more than several times—so by now, the fact that you were sexually involved with a teacher didn't bother you much.

**

It all began earlier in the year, your final stretch in pursuing your master's degree, when you were meant to meet a guy, you'd connected with on a dating app.

The texting banter had been engaging, and he came across as genuinely affable, prompting you to arrange a casual meet-up at a decent downtown bar in Toronto. You took the effort to style your hair and donned your loveliest little black dress paired with fetching Valentino heels.

However, as you sat in the subdued ambiance of the bar, waiting, he was a no-show. No texts, no responses— only complete radio silence. And after an hour and two glasses of Chablis, you reluctantly accepted that you'd been stood up and ghosted.

That's precisely when William had noticed you.

Alone at the bar, wonderfully dressed and clutching a glass, as your disappointment was evident, he couldn't help but notice you. Seated only a few spots away, his gaze caught yours through the bar's mirror, and he immediately recognised you.

You were always in the second row during his classes, flashing a bright smile whenever he strolled in, just like most girls in the class. But there was something about you that made you different. You genuinely seemed into what he taught, taking notes and throwing out smart questions. And you always used hockey in your examples, which happened to be his favourite sport.

So, when he noticed you sitting there, all alone, something sparked within him. And he didn't exactly plan for things to get steamy or anything – his initial thought was just to cheer you up; to tell you that whoever had put that soft, sad look on your beautiful face was missing out big time.

And that's exactly what went down.

He waited a bit, finished his whiskey, got another, then casually shifted to head closer to you.

"Hey," he started gently, catching your eye.

"Professor Nylander," you greeted all proper, respecting the whole teacher-student boundary thing.

"Come on, just call me William or Willy – we're not in class now," he chuckled, tapping his glass on the bar. "Mind if I pull up a chair?"

You gazed at him intently, unsure of his intentions a first, especially after being stood up earlier. But since you were feeling confident and rather good in your outfit, you weren't keen on being alone. Therefore, when William approached and initiated a conversation, even though he was your professor, you welcomed the company.

"Of course, go ahead," you replied with a sweet smile. 

And the formalities quickly faded as he took a seat, and the conversation began.

Instantly hitting it off, the discussion revolved mostly around hockey but also delved into personal matters. Yet, your attention was captivated by his amazing eyes and the way he seductively, perhaps unintentionally, licked his lips while conversing. Naturally, you found yourself stealing glances at his pink lips, and occasionally biting your own.

His soft voice echoed, and it stirred anticipation within you. And as alcohol gently coursed through your body, rational thoughts slipped away, leaving only a mutual fixation in your eyes.

Gradually, your body leaned closer to his, legs nearly touching before you crossed them, cautiously testing the waters by lightly rubbing your foot against his leg.

And it didn't escape William's notice. His eyes briefly shifted downward, observing how your dress had ridden up slightly, exposing more of your inner thighs. This sight sparked a pleasurable sensation within him and downing his third glass of whiskey of the night, he casually scanned the room for familiar faces. And once assured, his hand timidly found its place on your thigh.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, a shared desire lingering between you both. And in a matter of seconds, you downed the last drops of your wine, and William firmly grasped your hand, guiding you towards the bar's restroom.

Once inside, he swiftly shut the door, his lips and hands urgently exploring every inch of you as he pressed you against the wall. On his journey, His fingers finding the fabric of your not so concealing lacy thong, pushed it aside, and fucked you hard until you couldn’t control your moans and his first name was the only word you were able to formulate.

It was an incredible fuck.

Although initially meant to be a one-time event, neither of you could resist the magnetic pull between you.

And a few weeks later, after another class, where his confident and passionate lecture resonated while you looked up at him, engaging with questions and comments, it was evident to both of you that another encounter was inevitable.

So then, casual hookups became routine, often in discreet hotel rooms or daringly in public spaces, the thrill of potential discovery enticing you both.

The strict boundaries of a student-professor relationship dissolved once you were away from the property of campus, and it didn't take long to discover the profound connection between your respective desires and kinks. 

William liked to be rather rough, particularly in the bedroom (or any other location), and you played the role of the perfect provocateur for him. A little brat, to put it bluntly. 

You were a fucking tease, and a part of him just wanted to take you hard and show you just how good he could dominate you. 

But there was a time and a place for everything. 

William held a deep respect for you as a person, and naturally, the two of you had had conversations about your sexual relationship. These discussions involved detailing both soft and hard limits, providing explicit consent for your actions, and openly vocalising mutual respect for each other's boundaries and desires.

But you were a brat, nonetheless.

**

And today was no exception. You’d put on one of those fine skirts he always enjoyed so much, a nice pair of almost knee-high boots, a tiny sweater, and your hair in a high ponytail. It was the perfect little slutty schoolgirl outfit.

And the most fitting part; your sexy, bright red underwear you’d bought for the holidays. It was the ideal outfit, and you knew you couldn’t wait till the day was over to show it to him. So, in the morning before slipping into your outfit of the day, you captured a couple of naughty and flirtatious photos, which you saved for the perfect moment.

And what more perfect moment to send such a photo than during the lecture? 

Williams eyes briefly glanced at the screen lightening up on his desk as he was trying his best to listen to your classmate’s answer, but the text that came along with the photo had him all too distracted.

“Want you so badly right now 😏 Can’t stop staring at you - my cunt’s already so wet and ready for you 💦”

*Attached file*

“Just something for you to enjoy 🍑👙”

*Attached file*

He had to compose himself and maintain a professional demeanour, but as his gaze fell upon you, he noticed the smug grin on your beautiful face, brimming with satisfaction.

He knew your game.

And it was working.

William felt a slight blush creeping up; he was undeniably curious to open the attachment, well aware that with you, it wouldn't be entirely innocent. And the level of naughtiness had him distracted.

"Alright, take a moment to discuss among yourselves, groups of 2-3, what makes a good leader," he announced, prompting everyone to shuffle in their seats and start chatting.

You had him hooked.

While your friends engaged fervently in the discussion, your eyes darted towards the Swedish professor, where William couldn't resist reaching for his phone and opening your message. And as soon as he glimpsed at your photos, he was done. 

The first was a mirror selfie of you showcasing the lingerie, accentuating your curves flawlessly.

The second was a tad racier; lounging on your bed, still adorned in the red lacy attire, your hand delicately nestled beneath your panties, teasing your sensitive spot.

William felt a stir in his boxers as his eyes fixated on the provocative photos, prompting him to turn around and lean against his desk, trying to conceal his flushed cheeks.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, feeling the arousal slowly building up inside him.

You were in for it now. You, the teasing little brat, had him completely distracted. And there was no way he could carry on with his class now. He felt the need to teach you a lesson. But waiting until the end of the class when you'd be heading to your own space was becoming less of an option for him.

No, he needed release, and he needed it sooner rather than later. Glancing at the clock, he realised there was still half the session remaining.

"Okay, how about we all call it an early start to the weekend, huh?" He asked the class rhetorically, turning around with his hips behind his desk, and the students were naturally thrilled about the unexpected dismissal.

Swiftly, they gathered their things, chatting loudly as they started to leave the auditorium.

"Miss y/l/n can I have a word with you?" William's voice was firm, and you had an inkling of what was coming.

"Sure," you replied innocently.

"Ooh, someone's getting a telling off."

"Yeah, looks like trouble's brewing."

Your girlfriends playfully teased as they slung their bags over their shoulders.

You were well aware that many students, regardless of gender or orientation, had a crush on your professor. And it gave you a peculiar sense of satisfaction, knowing that you were the one to actually sleep with him.

"Easy, babes. He probably just wants to chat about why I think 'too many men' is the silliest penalty in a hockey match," you quipped casually, and the girls simply chuckled before leaving the room, and you headed towards William, who remained standing by his desk, wearing a stern expression.

"Yes, professor?" you asked, batting your eyelashes and offering him a sweet smile.

William cleared his throat softly as the room hadn't completely emptied yet.

"We need to discuss your behaviour during my classes," he said in a low yet firm tone, causing you to purse your lips to suppress any signs of tension.

"Of course, sir," you replied evenly.

Your gaze met intensely, sending a shiver down your spine as you imagined vividly how he might want to punish you for your actions.

Forcing you onto your knees in the school’s lavatory, as he forced his cock down your throat? Perhaps, pressing you up against the cold tiles as he fucks you hard? 

But William had something else in mind. 

And as the final students had left the auditorium, he was quick to come and stand intensely close to you, sharing the air between you, as his breaths mixed with yours. Gently he then rested his hands on your hips, and then with a forceful tuck, he pulled you into him, pressing your body against his. 

Your hands swiftly found his chest to rest on, meanwhile his soft lips and warm breath came closer to your ear to whisper. 

“You’ve been a bad girl.” 

For a fleeting moment, you had to shut your eyes, feeling another tremor course through your body at the sound of his husky voice. And deep down, you realised you were about to receive exactly what you had deserved.

While gazing up at him intensely, you softly uttered, a smile beginning to form on your lips.

"I know."

That seemed to push him further. William swiftly turned you around forcefully, directing you towards his desk situated on the small stage at the centre of the auditorium. His mouth drew close to your ear once more, his chest pressing against your back.

"How about I complete your lesson for today?" he groaned, sending yet a shiver down your spine, making your knees turn weak.

Attempting to regulate your breath, an abrupt and forceful shove disrupted your focus, causing you to lean over the catheter. Your hands instinctively supported you firmly as William's hands found their way to your ass, firmly squeezing. 

You couldn't stifle a gasp at the sudden movement, though a surge of excitement mingled with temptation, enticing you to witness what was about to happen.

"Willy, someone might walk in..." you attempted to caution him, as the sound of his belt unbuckling echoed behind you. Yet, your professor appeared not to care about the potential interruption.

"Let them," he dismissed casually.

And as his trousers then pooled around his ankles, his erect member still concealed in his boxers, William's hands skilfully roaming the soft skin of your thighs, gradually ascending, and drawing your skirt up with them. 

"Such pretty underwear, baby," he sighed deeply, admiring the red lace that barely covered your buttocks. His attention swiftly shifted to the unmistakably wet patch between your legs, revealing your intense desire for him. "And what do we have here?" he quipped rhetorically, delicately brushing his fingers against the moist fabric, evoking a soft moan from you. "You really are wet for me, baby girl."

Realising there was no hiding your need from him now, you acknowledged how much you craved him in that moment.

"Told you so," you breathed out, glancing back at him briefly, raising an eyebrow.

And his reaction was a satisfied smirk as he forcefully moved the fabric aside and inserted two fingers into your warmth, eliciting another moan from you.

"Yeah, no need for foreplay," he chuckled darkly, swiftly retracting his fingers to suck them clean. "Mm... you taste so good, baby girl, but I want all that juice on my cock today."

And before you could process his words, William had already lowered his boxers, freeing his throbbing member. He teasingly rubbed it against your folds before plunging forcefully inside, stretching you completely and causing a loud moan to escape your lips.

"Fuck, Willy!"

"Yeah, baby, that's what gets you going, huh..."

William pulled out just enough before forcefully driving back in, causing you to lose your balance and nearly collapse onto the desk, gripping it tightly with both hands.

His hips repeated the motion, picking up speed, creating a forceful rhythm against your backside, the sound of skin smacking together resonating through the room.

Your moans were unrestrained as William thrust hard and roughly, stimulating you intensely as he reached the depths within you. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel your wetness coating his length, trickling down your inner thighs.

"Shit, Willy..." you cried out, feeling the intensity of an impending orgasm. "Please..."

"Yeah, begging me to fuck you..." William grunted, showing no mercy as he continued to thrust, his hands securing your hips in place. "You like this... being a little slut, sending me those photos when you know they distract me!"

"Yes..." you whimpered.

"Why do you always have to be such a fucking brat." 

"Because I can..."

Your loud moans were a mixture of pleasure and cries, overwhelmed by William's intense pounding. And you knew you were moments away from losing yourself completely.

With each thrust, William's sweaty body soaked his once-white shirt, his hair dishevelled and untamed as he neared his own climax.

"Please, Willy... I'm about to come..." Your moans sounded like desperate pleas by this point, your grip on the desk tightening alongside your walls clenching around his member.

"Yeah, let go for me, baby girl... come like the little slut you are for me."

And with those words, you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, allowing the waves of your orgasm to wash over you, clouding your mind in pure bliss.

"Fuck..." William exhaled, the pressure of your orgasm almost pushing him towards his own climax. And with a few more forceful thrusts, he let out a loud, deep moan, releasing himself into your core, filling you with his seed. "Shit..."

Both of you lingered in a hazy rush of passion, your bodies connected for a moment as you gradually calmed down and regained control of your breaths.

A minute passed in silence, only the sound of breathing filling the air around you. And eventually, William gently withdrew, his cum slowly trickling from your core, while summoning some strength, you gradually stood up while he adjusted his boxers and trousers. 

And despite his earlier roughness, William always knew when to shift to a more caring demeanour.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked, showing concern.

Standing fully, you turned to face the handsome man.

"Of course," you replied with a small smile. "It was just so..."

"Intense," William chimed in with a chuckle.

"Definitely intense," you grinned. "But incredibly good too."

You moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your faces drew near again, his hands finding your hips.

"Yeah? Perhaps you should send photos like those more often..." he chuckled, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Hmm, maybe... but it feels a bit too risky," you replied, looking up at him with a sweet yet slightly nervous smile, the thought of someone potentially walking in while William was deep inside you lingering in your mind.

"I suppose you're right about that," he simply responded before tenderly pressing his lips against yours in a soft and cautious kiss.

[myglobaluni]

Study MBA from Canada - Want to study MBA abroad in Canada? Read this article. We will explore the details of pursuing an MBA degree in Canada.

[xenosagaepisodeone]

the thing is though that these checklists don’t mean if you have BPD it is not allowed that you have nightmares / if you have CPTSD you are legally obligated to never experience impulsiveness etc etc; it’s not just “making stuff up” — though ig in the strictest sense yeah, first you make stuff up but then you test it and see if your hypotheses align with the population. Basically chances are if you meet 8/9 BPD criteria and some for CPTSD but not enough to meet the diagnostic standard (which afaik isn’t recognized just yet but i think they’re trying to get it recognized in the diagnostic manuals but correct me if i’m wrong) then it’s pretty likely you’re going to respond better to BPD treatment and ALSO if your practitioner completely ignores one diagnosis in favor of the other they’re probably not that good at their job. Psychology doesn’t speak in “rules” and absolutes, it speaks in trends and likelihoods and everyone trying to sell you a 100% true and immovable psychology fact is a sham

as someone who unfortunately has a degree in psychology (and whose undergrad began right as the infamous replication crisis became more widely acknowledged in the field), yes, historically a lot of this field is bias and hegemony imbued with some metric. when homosexuality was still classified as a mental disorder, the conversion therapy program by masters and johnson (who were like, some of the earliest pioneers of research into human sexual responses lmao) would often boast high success rates due to participants merely adopting signifiers of heterosexuality. the modern day pop psychology movement (and it's subfields, new ageism, self help books, uhhh Market Christianity) also cannot be disentangled from academic psychology, which further bends the way in which people understand and interact with psychological phenomena. this of course does not mean that all data is junk data, or that methods of measurement are without some rigor, or that therapy is completely useless, but it's just patently incorrect to insist that this field is even predominantly an apolitical force attempting to further our understanding of human beings. it's bizarre that you acknowledge that credentialized individuals in the field can be flawed while also being uncritical of psychological categorization for mental illness.

It's not that I don't get what you're saying, but it's not reflective of reality. yes, I know that practitioners are supposed to help you feel out your symptoms and see what treatment works for you, but that isn't just what they're doing (assuming it's even being done with care and competence). it's inaccurate to insist that psychology doesn't speak in absolutes- I know that we are taught not to do this, but for any social science related field this is the equivalent of going "stop hitting yourself". in any practical real-world setting where accredited institutional psychology is present, there are rules. in a clinical setting, there are rules, and you can be inpatiented against your will for breaking those rules (or recently here in canada, randomly stripped of your driver's license). in neuromarketing (<- yes this is a real discipline.), which is intensively oriented towards results due to the profit incentive, there are rules. the conditions of release for many offenders necessitates staying on court-mandated medication or participating in specific programs. when H.B. Phrenology from The Heritage Foundation wheels out his thousandth manicured study on crime and race (and when a different journal publishes a study indirectly debunking it), that is him tacitly acknowledging that there are rules.

anyway did I ever tell you guys that in my first year at University of Toronto (UTSC campus baybee) they brought in a guest speaker to my abnormal psych course who gave us a lengthy talk on how autogynephilia theory is objectively true. this was like 2013ish maybe 2014 btw.

[intersectionalpraxis]

an introduction to 'intersectional praxis'

Hey folks! My name is Meaghen, and I have a background in Critical Feminist and Gender Studies (I received my Master's degree back in 2017).

I originally created this blog to share some of the social commentary & criticism content I create and react to on my tiktok account (@intersectional.praxis), which despite being banned because of mass reporting by zionists, it was randomly restored (shockingly) -you can also find me posting on my backup account: intersectional_praxis; but it further evolved here -as I am active here daily discussing current events, posting my own critical reflections on a plethora of issues, and sharing content made by fellow feminist/social justice activists and creators from varying platforms. Some of what I talk about here includes (but is not limited to):

*misogyny, heteronormativity, 'manospehere' content, gendered violence, unequal gendered divisions of labour in the home, weaponized incompetency, xenophobia, western imperialism, late stages of capitalism discourse, systemic sexism/racism/classism/ableism and much more*

My feminist praxis is also always reflexive, inclusive, and anti-oppressive. I am always learning & unlearning myself as well, and I am committed to my own lifelong journey of unpacking and challenging problematic discourses that impact us all.

I would also like to state, that after seeing blatant transphobic and transmisogynistic discourse in some radfem spaces here that I do not align with terf's. I am, resoundingly so, someone who will always be in solidarity with and who supports trans and non-binary folks. Their safety and liberation is something we should ALL be advocating for because at the end of the day it's NEVER an 'us.' vs 'them' issue, it's ALWAYS an 'us' vs the patriarchy/capitalism/white supremacy, and any system and/or structure of oppression.

Since some folks have asked me to add a little bit more about me/my background: I initially started my degree in English Literature back in 2011 and then pursued a combined Honours Bachelor Degree with Women's and Gender Studies because one course was all I needed to take to decide on a double major. I also could have minored in History, but I was a credit short away from adding that to my degree, but I took many courses.

I watch documentaries and social commentary channels as often as I can, I enjoy reading and writing [both fiction and creative fiction] (I am sure this is the most obvious fact about me), I like watching many drama series genres (from romantic comedies to horror/thrillers) and I'm starting to get back into anime again (one of my all time loves is Sailor Moon).

I am happily self-partnered and child free by choice.

I also recently self-published my first poetry collection: through labyrinths and into gardens she goes. Until I am (hopefully) published by an independent press in the near future (that's my dream!), I am using KDP. For those who want to check out/support/purchase my collection, here is the link for the US and for Canada.

Thank you again🌻

Once again, it's nice to meet you all, and feel free to ask me any questions 🌼 this is always a safe space🌻

image caption above reads:

"When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak." -Audre Lorde

[justforbooks]

With her book The Return of Martin Guerre (1983), the historian Natalie Zemon Davis, who has died aged 94, attracted a wide readership and inspired future historians. It came out of working as a historical consultant on a film of the same name released the previous year, starring Gérard Depardieu and Nathalie Baye, and directed by Daniel Vigne.

Martin Guerre, a peasant farmer in the 16th-century Pyrenees, left his wife Bertrande to go on a journey, only to have his marital role usurped by an impostor who “returned” pretending to be him. After some years of cohabitation, Bertrande denounced the impostor, her testimony seemingly confirmed by the return of the real Martin Guerre. The impostor was duly tried and executed.

The film-makers’ questions about period detail and behaviour intrigued Davis. But other aspects of the movie genre troubled her, so she went back to the archives and wrote up her own compact account of 120 pages.

A gripping narrative and a lesson in method, Davis’s book raised questions about the reliability of evidence and the motives and worldviews of peasant men and women from a faraway place and time. It is an example of a microhistory, where historians turn away from the big canvas of kings, queens and battles to understand ordinary lives, often through a highly localised case study.

The Return of Martin Guerre was one of a series of works including Society and Culture in Early Modern France (1975), Fiction in the Archives (1987), Women on the Margins (1995) and The Gift in Sixteenth-Century France (2000). Davis’s trademark was the longer essay or biographical study, often focused on marginal or misunderstood personalities, all spiced with a sharp attention to issues of religion, gender, sex, class, money and power. Historical records for her were never dull: she once described them as “a magic thread that links me to people long since dead and with situations that have crumbled to dust”.

Born in Detroit, Natalie was the daughter of Helen (nee Lamport) and Julian Zemon, a textile trader, both children of east European Jewish immigrants to the US. While studying at Smith College, Massachusetts, at the age of 19 she fell in love with Chandler Davis, a brilliant mathematician and socialist activist; they married in 1948 and went on to have a son and two daughters. Her first degree, from Smith (1949), was followed by a master’s at Radcliffe College (1950).

Her life with Davis was productive and fulfilling but also complicated her early career, as his principled stances against McCarthy-era restrictions on political expression led to both him and her being barred from a number of posts, and from travelling abroad. This she needed to do for her doctorate on 16th-century France.

After finally gaining her PhD at Michigan University in 1959, Davis went on to hold positions at Toronto, moved in 1971 to the University of California, Berkeley, where she was appointed professor, and in 1978 to Princeton, retiring in 1996. She became only the second woman to serve as president of the American Historical Association (1987), and the first to serve as Eastman professor at Oxford (1994). In 2012 she was appointed Companion of the Order of Canada, and in the US was awarded a National Humanities Medal.

Davis helped establish programmes in women’s studies and taught courses on history and film. Her AHA presidential address, History’s Two Bodies (1988), summed up her thinking about gender in history. It was also the first such address to be printed with illustrations. Her book Slaves on Screen (2002) was one of the first in-depth treatments of this topic by a professional historian.

In her last two books, Davis returned to the exploration of mixed identities. Trickster Travels (2006) was about the 16th-century scholar Leo Africanus, whose complicated Jewish and Muslim roots in North Africa she expertly unpicked. Listening to the Languages of the People (2022) focused on the 19th-century scholar Lazare Sainéan, a Romanian-Jewish folklorist and lexicographer who published one of the world’s first serious studies of Yiddish, but had to abandon his Romanian homeland for Paris in 1901.

At the time of her death, Davis was completing a study of slave families in colonial Suriname: it is hoped this will appear under the announced title of Braided Histories. In this way she continued to explore unconventional topics, going against the grain of Eurocentric history and looking instead at the boundaries of identity and belonging in very different settings.

Visiting many universities and research centres in her retirement, Davis encouraged younger scholars by conveying the potential of history to inspire empathy and hope for change. While at my own institution, the University of Amsterdam, in 2016, she made it her main aim to talk to students rather than to other professors. In 2022-23 she presented her latest work in online seminars, and wrote and corresponded actively until shortly before her death from cancer.

Chandler died in 2022. Natalie is survived by her three children, Aaron, Hannah and Simone; four grandchildren; three great-grandchildren; and a brother, Stanley.

🔔 Natalie Zemon Davis, historian, born 8 November 1928; died 21 October 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[pcttrailsidereader]

Trash on the Trail -- What's Out There

Bandages, balloons, bullet casings: Here’s how much trash is on the Pacific Crest Trail

A pair of environmental scientists who thru-hiked the trail last year conducted the largest known and most comprehensive survey of litter on the Pacific Crest Trail. Illustration by Sophie D'Amato/The Chronicle from No Trace Trails elements.

Their findings reflected my own perception of trash on the PCT. The litter I have encountered does seem to be concentrated around highway crossings, campgrounds, trailheads, and high-use areas with easy road access. The issue of toilet paper along the trail is a more complicated issue . . . one that seemingly combines awareness, behavioral change, and some infrastructure support.

ByGregory Thomas and Harsha Devulapalli

Roughly 1 million people per year venture onto the wild and scenic Pacific Crest Trail, the 2,650-mile hiking route that winds through the West Coast’s soaring mountain ranges between Mexico and Canada.

That includes hikers out for a day in the woods, backpackers on multiday trips and thru-hikers seeking to conquer the whole thing in one long trek. Inevitably, some of those nature lovers leave behind micro-trash and bits of plastic litter. No one has sought to quantify the impact of trash on the trail — until now.

A pair of environmental scientists who thru-hiked the trail last year conducted the largest known survey of litter on the PCT, providing a sharp look at the kinds of materials people leave on the trail, in what concentrations, and where. The project was carried out, mile by mile, by Tori McGruer, 29, who holds a doctorate in environmental toxicology, and Macy Gustavus, 25, who holds a master’s degree in watershed sciences.

Here’s what they found.

A look at a few of McGruer and Gustavus’ findings

Graphic by Sophie D'Amato/The Chronicle from No Trace Trails elements

© OpenMapTiles© OpenStreetMap contributors

McGruer and Gustavus started their journey in March 2023 in Campo (San Diego County), near the Mexican border, the launchpad for northbound thru-hikers. They’d secured $16,000 in funding through grants and partnerships, quit their jobs and hit the trail.

From the get-go, they found significant concentrations of litter — bottle caps, gum wrappers and rubber fragments.

Over the next six months, McGruer (right) and Gustavus hiked the full 2,650-mile trail, which crosses the High Sierra and the Cascade Range, to the Canadian border. They cataloged — and usually collected — more than 1,000 pieces of trash. They found lots of snack wrappers, used toilet paper, Band-Aids and cigarette butts as well as novelties like Mylar balloons, a spent shotgun cartridge and a rusty horseshoe.

The researchers surveyed 1-kilometer segments of trail at 10-mile intervals — a total of 260 survey areas ● (a rate of about 2-3 per day). Each hiker scoped for litter on her respective side of the trail to a distance of about 6 feet from its center.

They handled trash objects with plastic salad tongs for sanitary reasons and deposited them into waterproof stuff sacks, “so if there was something gross we could put it in there and not worry about it leaching out,” McGruer said.

Certain heavy or cumbersome items, like pieces of an abandoned car, were cataloged but left on the trail. They categorized each item using Rubbish, a mobile app that helps users organize and geolocate litter in open spaces.

So, the dirtiest stretch of the entire trail?

A long segment bookending the San Gabriel Mountains on the outskirts of Los Angeles was the dirtiest of the entire PCT, presumably due to its proximity to a major metropolis. One-third of all the trash the researchers logged during their trip came from this region.

A few survey areas there contained hundreds of litter items. However, the researchers set a 100-item maximum when counting litter in a given survey area. When they hit that threshold, they believed they could extrapolate the trash concentration with reasonable accuracy, they said.

Mylar Balloons

Those shiny, metallic, helium-filled balloons are remarkably durable and capable of floating long distances. Strangely, they are winding up in remote wilderness areas at a rate that is concerning to biologists, as the Chronicle has recently reported.

McGruer retrieved several of them in the Southern California desert — one stuck in a patch of bushes, another submerged in a river. Survey aside, she made it a personal mission to remove the ones she found.

“One day I had like three partially inflated ones attached to my pack and someone passing us on the trail said ‘happy birthday’ to me,” she said.

The researchers found trash in about 60% of the 260 survey zones, meaning 40% contained no discernible litter. The hot spots along the trail tended to correlate with areas of easy access and high human traffic like highway crossings, campgrounds and day-use areas.

Brian Feulner/Special to the Chronicle

Many of the zero-trash areas were in remote mountain regions like Northern California’s High Sierra and Washington’s Cascade Range, where few people set foot.

That finding tracks with the experience of Jack Haskel, trail information manager for the Pacific Crest Trail Association, which maintains the trail on behalf of the U.S. Forest Service.

“Much of the trail is pretty pristine regarding trash but you do find hot spots where there’s a lot of it,” he said.

The most common trash materials found were: soft plastics, such as bits of bar wrappers or cuts of duct tape; hard plastics like water bottles and broken trekking pole baskets; brass bullet casings; paper shreds and used toilet paper; cigarette butts; and miscellaneous fragments.

In many instances, researchers encountered single pieces of stray trash, one at a time. But sometimes they’d find dozens of pieces of litter linked to a single event. For instance, in the backcountry of Shasta County they found 50 or more strands of tree-flagging tape used by foresters scattered on the ground.

What’s that?

In some cases, differentiating rubbish from natural ground materials was challenging. Identifying and classifying objects required four of the five senses — sight, smell, touch and, at one point, taste.

Unsure about the makeup of a smooth chunk of translucent detritus they found in the dirt –— was it plastic? glass? a natural mineral? — Gustavus popped it into her mouth and bit down. Glass, she decided.

“That’s not common,” Gustavus said. “I don’t encourage people to do that.”

Toilet paper

Used toilet paper left along the trail — half-buried, stuffed under a rock, clinging to bushes — is the PCT’s single, stand-out trash problem, according to Haskel of the Pacific Crest Trail Association. It is a gross, unsightly bane of trail rangers and volunteer stewards. The trash researchers found a lot of it — particularly in the northern states.

“In Oregon and Washington there was toilet paper everywhere,” McGruer said. “I was like, what is happening?”

In lieu of using a toilet, backpackers and hikers should bury their waste several inches deep in the ground, or use a wag bag and carry it out, and take their soiled toilet paper with them. Poop carries toxins and bacteria that, even when buried, can leach into nearby water sources and infect wildlife, Haskel said.

Biodegradables

Sunflower seeds, pistachio and peanut shells, orange peels — the researchers found them scattered along the entire trail route, and seeing them drove Gustavus “absolutely insane.” Yes, they should technically break down over time, she said, but hikers shouldn’t feel free to dump them in the natural environment.

“It’s kind of a misguided principle,” Gustavus said. “That stuff does not belong out there.”

Pictured: Pistachio shells on the trail in the mountains of Washington State.

The pair completed their thru-hike in September 2023. McGruer (left) and Gustavus are shown here at the PCT's northern terminus in the remote mountains where Washington State meets Canada.

It’s important to note that many PCT users actively beautify the trail each year.

Local volunteer groups, rangers and backpackers are all known to pick up trash they encounter on their outings as a simple act of altruism. Also, eight years ago a pair of young men made it their mission to remove the junk they encountered during their thru-hike; they ended up with more than 700 pounds of stuff, including a mattress.

Extrapolating from their data, McGruer and Gustavus estimate there to be about 200,000 pieces of trash along the trail at any given moment. But that’s not to say the trail feels trashy, McGruer said.

“We frequently saw trash, but often there would be a small piece in one of our 1-kilometer surveys. You wouldn't register that as a ton of trash,” she said. “I think what our survey findings say is that people leave a trash footprint wherever we go with these materials that really don't break down in the environment.”

The survey project, which the researchers dubbed No Trace Trails, was supported by grant funding and financial backing through the Moore Institute for Plastic Pollution Research in Long Beach via the Richard Lounsbery Foundation in Washington, D.C., and the American Alpine Club.

McGruer and Gustavus are putting together a research manuscript for peer review. They’re also seeking funds to help analyze the microplastic content of a series of soil samples they collected during their hike.

Sarah “Mountain Goat” Steinbauer from Austria hikes the Pacific Crest Trail near Quincy (Plumas County) on June 19, 2023. The heavy snowfall in the Sierra Nevada that year created special challenges for thru-hikers along the PCT. Brian Feulner / Special To The Chronicle

Credits

Reporting by Gregory Thomas. Reporting and graphics development by Harsha Devulapalli. Editing by Yoohyun Jung and Kate Galbraith. Design, development and illustration by Sophie D'Amato. Design editing by Alex K. Fong. Visuals editing by Ramin Rahimian. Powered by the Hearst Newspapers DevHub.

[fashionablyiconic]

Let's Talk

Hey gang...it's been a while...again...

There are some 31,000 of you following this blog and so I feel like I owe you some sort of explanation for my lack of posting.

In short, it's getting really hard for me to post. Vogue now uses a paywall for their photos, I don't really have the resources to make original content, and quite frankly my life has been hella busy.

This blog has been a part of my life SINCE MIDDLE SCHOOL! Together, we have gone through my high school graduation, university, Covid, finishing university, and being out in the real world. I don't talk a whole bunch about myself but maybe I should:

Hi! My name is Alexa. I'm based in Calgary, Canada. I am a writer and an actor. I'm literally in the middle of a run for my first-ever self-produced show that I'm really proud of.

I have Depression and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I take meds and they help me a lot. I'm not ashamed of any of this.

I have a degree in Drama with a minor in Women's Studies (a.k.a Gender and Sexuality Studies) and I would like to get my master's one day.

I love Iris Van Herpen and think that Zuhair Murad is overrated as all hell.

I enjoy running this blog and it's been a part of my life for a really long time but it's getting harder and harder to prioritize this blog over everything else in my life. This is due to time restraints, barriers to accessing content to post, and the little to no money I make from this blog. I'm not asking for money...I'd love some but hey...don't we all. I'm certainly not the one who needs it the most.

So what happens now?

I don't know. I'm not shutting down the blog any time soon. I just might become really sporadic about when I post.

I'm still very passionate about fashion and adore the art form but I just can't always express that.

So yeah. I love you all dearly.

I'm a little more active on my personal @arthoewiththesocks

Thanks.

[librarycards]

not sure if this is something you can help with but ive been looking into doing a masters course in some sort of field where i can engage with antipsychiatry and harm reduction but im not really sure what to go for. is something like social work good for that or should i look for something more specific?

while there exist abolitionist social workers, therapists, etc., let me state on no uncertain terms: if you want to spend your energy on on-the-ground harm reduction, going into social work is not the way to do it. this is the direct equivalent to being an abolitionist cop. you are not going to make the material change you want to/aspire to make within the field, and it is probable that you will either 1) be recruited into a network of abuse and exploitation or 2) leave or be forced out of the field upon refusal to participate in said abuse/exploitation.

again, there are abolitionist psych professionals of all stripes in existence. i know many of them. none of them encourage other abolitionists to go into psych, for these precise reasons. specifically, many of these programs require a rotation/internship/some kind of participation in a literal psychiatric carceral setting before one can "graduate" to the possibility of operating, say, a private practice or doing other independent community work. the gate through which you need to pass is one of abusing patience alongside your superiors. in programs with this requirement, there is no existing way to achieve the level of education you want to complete without becoming a perpetrator of life-altering abuse.

more thoughts below the cut

In terms of where/in what to get your Masters, you have a few options. You could seek out others with social work degrees/degrees in progress, and ask where they're attending school and whether there is an existing network of anticarceral/antipsych providers there. Smith College School of Social Work comes to mind as one that has produced some really rad people, including the therapist who used her position of privilege to write letters for all of her trans clients to get whatever medical interventions we wanted, regardless of identity or presentation. she saved many lives, mine included.

There are also public health programs, which generally fall into the same traps as social work, but i think are less likely to require this kind of immediate abusive work in order to graduate.

If you feel you can't tolerate social work school, etc., you could also go into a disability studies program –– York and Reyerson, both in Canada, consistently produce some of the most exciting DS/Mad Studies scholars/scholarship happening now.

You could also look to programs in locations with strong networks of antipsych/disability justice organizing. Where do your online comrades live, where do the people you admire live? Where is safe for you to travel to in the bodymind you have? the educational spaces in this area might have variously named interdisciplinary, humanities/social sciences oriented programs in which you can pursue the project you want to pursue. again, the best way to figure this out is to talk to people who are in/have been in a given program, and consider it in the context of your personal needs and goals.

lastly, and you know this, but: being in academia does not mean you are escaping from responsibility in the oppression of Madpeople. colleges and universities are institutions, and function to silo knowledge behind physical and financial walls. if you're serious about doing antipsych/harm reduction work, be sure you're thinking carefully about what any program will and won't allow you to do with the knowledge you gather there, and think honestly & strategically about what you are willing to do and tolerate for the time that you engage with institutional academia, wherever that might be.