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atlafan · 5 years

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Take it Slow - Part One

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry. (There eventually be smut, but this part is mostly fluff.)

You had been seeing each other for about three weeks. You still couldn’t believe you had agreed to meeting someone on a blind date. But you were so sick of the online dating scene, so when your good friend Niall from work told you he had a single friend, you jumped at the chance.

He didn’t have any social media, there was an Instagram with his name, but no photos of him. Only pictures he had taken. He was a photographer, and a good one at that. Niall had roomed with him during their undergrad, and stayed mates after graduation. You had wondered why he never mentioned this single friend before.

“Well, after your last break up, I honestly didn’t think you’d ever want to look at another man.” He shyly told you in the break room one day.

It was true, your last break up was a really bad one. It was barely even a break up though because you two were barely dating. You had sex with him rather quick, and after him blowing you off two separate times, he ended things over a text. This sent you into a rather depressive episode. You vowed to not jump into bed with a guy quite so quickly ever again, even if you really wanted to.

You begged Niall to see a picture of him, but he said no. You tried to snoop around Niall’s Facebook page, but you couldn’t be certain of who he was. All you knew was his name: Harry Styles. Niall wouldn’t even give you his number to arrange the date.

“I’ll set everything up for the both of ya, and if it goes well then you can both take it from there.”

You were happy to have a best friend at work. Your days would be boring without each other. You and Niall were two of the younger people in your office, and you both felt it was necessary to stick together.

“What are you doing this Saturday night?” He asked you Wednesday morning, handing you a coffee. You each took turns buying coffee for the other. Today was his turn.

“Um, I think I was just going to binge watch something on Netflix. Why?”

“Harry was wondering if you’d be interested in dinner.”

“Oh he was?” You raise an eyebrow, and take a sip of your coffee.

“Yes, well I nudged him a little, but I’ve told him a lot about you and he’s very interested.” You blush at the thought.

“Well, I’m definitely free for dinner. Where was he thinking?”

“You’re both vegetarian, well, he’s a vegan actually, but he knows of this really great tapas place that has a lot of meatless options.”

“Wow, vegan. I like tapas so that works for me. What time?”

“Seven. I’ll text you the name of the place so you can look it up.”

“Thanks, this should be fun.” You smile at your friend.

Friday night after work, you decide to do a little shopping. After researching the restaurant, you knew you needed something a little nicer to wear, and you didn’t feel like anything in your closet would make a lasting impression. You drove out to the mall, cursing at yourself for not just going Saturday morning. The parking was crazy, and it felt like everyone and their brother was there. You stumbled into the Macy’s and looked around at their cocktail dresses. You wanted something to accentuate your best features, but also wanted to leave a little mystery. You settle on a basic, black dress. It was form fitting, and hugged just above the midpoint of your thighs. It had short, capped sleeves, and the neckline came just high enough to cover most of your cleavage. It was perfect. You knew you had shoes to match at home, so you didn’t waste any more time at the mall.

Saturday morning, you scrolled through countless hair and makeup tutorials on YouTube trying to find the one that suited you most. After getting frustrated, you settled on your go to hair style. You curled your hair, and waited a couple of hours to brush it out. You then had perfect waves, which almost looked natural. About an hour before you needed to leave, you put your makeup on. You decided to go with a subtle purple to make your green eyes pop, and swept some liquid eye liner over it. You contoured your face (something you had gotten quite good at), and then put your new black dress on. Happy with your appearance, you slide on some purple some nude, strappy heels, and headed out.

As you got closer to the restaurant, you grew nervous. You texted Niall to tell him it was silly you’d be walking into a place, looking for someone you had never met. He asked you what you were wearing, and he would tell Harry to look for you. But what if you got there first? What if he never shows up? How dare he! You thought. You shook the thought from your head and drove up to the restaurant. You circled around back where the parking was. You smoothed out your dress, praying it hadn’t wrinkled, before you walked in. Taking a deep breath, you looked around.

The place was even nicer in person. There was a really big bar, and the dining area looked so elegant. He must do well for himself if he likes this place. Before the hostess could greet you, you saw a somewhat familiar face walking towards you, but you couldn’t place where you had seen him before.

“(y/n)?” He asked.

“Um, yeah, are you Harry?”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” He puts an awkward hand out to shake, and you take it just as awkwardly. “That was weird.” He says in a laugh. “I didn’t know if it would be appropriate to hug you.” You runs a hand through his hair.

“No, no, it was very polite. It’s nice to meet you too. You found me pretty quick.” You smiled at him.

“Niall had just texted me explaining what you were wearing. I happened to look up, and there you were.” He smiled back. That smile…you just remembered him.

“Did you happen to go to Niall’s holiday party last year?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Um, yeah. Were you there too?”

“Yes, I was gonna say you looked familiar. I don’t think we properly spoke to each other there.”

“Definitely not, I would’ve remembered you if we had.” You feel your cheeks flush and let out a simple laugh. “Well, our table should be ready. Let me check with the hostess.”

Harry walks over to the woman, who hands two menus to one of the waiters. He says you can follow him. Harry gestures to let you go first. You wondered if it was so he could check you out, but he didn’t seem like the type. He looked so handsome. His hair was short, but not too short that you couldn’t make out his curls. His eyes were green like yours, and he was wearing a pair of blue dress pants with a white button up shirt.

As you both sat down at your table for two, you noticed his nails were painted. How you didn’t notice earlier when you shook his hand, you weren’t sure. Every other nail was this deep orange, and the other a navy blue. You smiled at it. At least he was the type of guy to take care of his nails. He had a few rings on as well, and you could see a couple of tattoos. You assumed he had a sleeve since you couldn’t see the rest of the anchor on his wrist. After a moment you heard him couch, and you realized you were staring. Your eyes darted up to his.

“Sorry, I was just admiring your, um, rings.” Pointing to the H and S.

“Oh, thanks, they were a gift from my mum a few years back.” His accent was already so intoxicating. Now you figured out how him and Niall got roomed together, they both must’ve been international students. “You were looking at my nails too?” Your face feels hot, and you feel yourself sweat a little. “It’s alright, a lot of people stare.”

“No, it wasn’t staring, necessarily. I was admiring it as well. I think more men should get their nails done. It looks nice. I love getting mine done, see?” You put your hand out, and show him your black nails. “I get the shellac so they last longer, totally worth it.” He smiles at you. “How long have you been painting them for?”

“Oh god, years. I mostly started out with black, but then I got bored with it. I felt like I was only doing that color because it ‘masculine’.” He holds up air quotes at the word. “Then I started experimenting with more vibrant colors. I like doing pink and blue a lot, but this also suits me. Then I started getting creative with the placement of the colors.”

“I’ll do an accent nail once in a while myself, but I do like the style of every other color. Maybe I’ll try it some time.”

“I know it doesn’t look super professional, but since I’m not in an office I can kind of do what I want.” He shrugs.

“Right, you’re a photographer?”

“Mhm. Mostly for, like, outdoors type of things. I really like taking pictures at night. But I’ll also do a little freelance work for people who want a photoshoot. I usually clean up good during the wedding season.”

You got so lost in conversation, you nearly forgot you were at a restaurant. A waitress comes over, frantically, and out of breath.

“Hi folks, so sorry for the wait. We got slammed all at once.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.” You beamed at her. Remembering your time in the food service industry.

“Can I start you two off with any drinks?” You look at each other, and he gestures for you to go first.

“Um, could I please have a vodka tonic, with titos, and lime?” He gives you a surprised smirk, probably expecting you to have just ordered a glass of wine.

“Sure thing, and for you sir?”

“I’ll have the same as her, please.” The waitress nods, and walks away.

“I take it that’s your drink?”

“Yeah, I’m not really a wine with dinner kind of gal.” The strange thing was, any time you had wine with dinner, you always got drunk. Vodka, however, you didn’t feel as much. You felt sager having that. “You like vodka too?”

“Once in a while, it tastes good with whatever you eat.”

“We should look at the menu and figure out what dishes we want so it’s easier for her when she comes back. I feel bad she was so out of breath coming over here.”

“Good idea.”

The waitress comes back with your drinks, and takes your order. You both had decides on some flat bread with arugula and goat cheese. It wasn’t vegan, but Harry didn’t mind. You also ordered some roasted cauliflower that came with a dipping sauce.

“How long have you been a vegetarian for?” He asks you, taking a sip of his drink.

“Um, a little over a year. I wouldn’t necessarily call it being a vegetarian, I just don’t eat meat.”

“What made you want to stop eating meat?”

“Well, it just didn’t make me feel good. My doctor also told me to straight up lay off the red meat. I got sick of eating chicken and fish, and if I’m being honest the thought of eating it just started to make me not feel good. I do still enjoy the smell of a fresh steak on the grill.”

“So you did it out of health instead of ethics?”

“Yup. I don’t have much dairy either. I love cheese so I keep that in my diet, but I have up milk a long time ago. I stick to coconut milk mostly if I need my fix. What made you go vegan?”

“Health benefits, I suppose. I was also taking a lot of pictures of animals for this one magazine and it just made it hard to even eat fish. I think it’s been five years now.”

“Good for you, that’s incredible.” You take sip of your drink, and notice the bar tender was a little heavy handed with the vodka.

“So, you met Niall at work right?”

“Mhm.”

“I know what he does there, but what do you do?”

“I’m on our marketing team, with him. He and I tag team a lot of projects. I work more with our digital pieces. I photopshop images, and edit video.”

“What made you go into that?”

“Well, when I was younger I wanted to be a film maker, but I fell in love with marketing, and put the film making on the back burner. I still write now and then for fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say they loved marketing before.”

“Well, it’s not so much the marketing, it’s more how creating the right content can change someone’s point of view.”

A food runner brings your food to your table. You both put your napkins in your laps, and dig in.

“Mmm.” You lick your lips after taking a bit of the flatbread. “This is delicious. Great choice.”

“Thanks, I like coming here, there are just so many options.” You see him pick off most of the goat cheese, and feel a little guilty.

“We didn’t need to get this type of flatbread. I feel terrible you can’t fully enjoy it.”

“It’s no big deal really, I can eat everything else on it.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

The waitress comes over to check on you.

“Can I get you both another drink?”

“I’ll have another, yeah. (y/n)?”

“Um, sure, that would be great.” You promised yourself you’d nurse the next one.

“Tell me about Niall in college, I’m dying to know what he was like.”

“Oh, he was rambunctious. Lad never had any clothes on, then again, neither did I.” You nearly choke on your drink. “I think that’s why we got on so well, neither of us liked wearing more than our trousers.”

“Were you both international students?”

“Yup, but we didn’t room together until our second year. We had met at one of the international student events, and we clicked. They made us room with other students from the states to get a more well-rounded experience.” He shrugs. “I remember this one time he came with me to get a tattoo, and he nearly pissed himself.” He lets out a laugh.

“Niall doesn’t have any tattoos.” You furrow your eyebrows and smile.

“No, he definitely does not. He was being a good mate and came with me when I got my first really big one. I have a butterfly here.” He puts his palm flat just under his breast plate.

“What made you want to get a butterfly?”

“Don’t know, I just like the way they look. They have an odd beauty to them.” You felt like you could listen to him talk all night. But your trance was broken when your waitress brought the check over. She told you no rush, but you knew how these things went. You knew she probably needed to get the table turned soon.

You both reached for the check, but Harry snatched it away. He gave you a “get real” kind of look, took his wallet out, and set his credit card inside the small plastic flap, leaving the check on the edge of the table.

“At least let me pay the tip.”

“Sorry, can’t letcha do that, love. Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me would it?” Did he just call you love? It was something Niall did too, but not until he really got to know you. Maybe Harry’s alcohol was starting to hit him, the way it was hitting you. Maybe he just felt relaxed around you.

“I thought you were more progressive than that?” You said jokingly.

“Oh, I am. But I also abide by the rules that whoever asked who out should pay.”

“Okay, that’s a pretty respectable rule, I’ll give you that.”

The waitress sweeps by the table to grab the credit card, and is back in minutes. Harry takes out some cash from his wallet, and signs the slip of paper.

“Thank you.” You say to him.

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles back. “Shall we?” He gets up first, and extends a hand to you to help you up. “Did you park out back?”

“Yup.” You really didn’t want the night to end yet. You look at your watch and it’s only almost nine.

“Great, so did I.”

He walks closely next to you on your wat to the parking lot.

“That’s me.” You point to your car. He walks you over to it, and you lean against your door. “I had a really nice time tonight.” You say looking down at your shoes, then back up at him.

“Me too.” He looks away for second, and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at you again. “Would it be alright to ask for your number?”

“Sure.” You reach into your purse and grab your cell phone. You hand it to him. “Feel free to just text yourself.” He smiles, and takes your phone, putting his number in.

“So, I take it you’d like to do this again?”

“Definitely.” He hands you back your phone, and put it back in your purse. In a bold move, you lean forward and give him a slight peck on the cheek. “Talk to you soon.”

You both blush, he smiles and lets out a nervous laugh. He opens your car door for you.

“Have a good rest of your evening.” He says to you.

“Same to you.”

You drive off, feeling your heart flutter. It was the perfect date. You were proud of yourself. Normally would have tried to make out with a man that attractive, but you showed wonderful restraint. You couldn’t wait for him to get in touch with you again.

#harry styles #hs #hs1 #hs2 #harry styles fic #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #fic #hope yall like it #niall horan #niall #harry styles y/n fic #harry styles imagine

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winterromanov · 5 years

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College Bucky taking her home to meet the fam!!

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic and this fic)

You’d never met Bucky’s parents and sister in the flesh before, but you might as well have done by this point. Ever since Bucky had told them he’d been dating someone they’d been dying to meet you--to the point where Bucky can’t Facetime home without his mother demanding to pull you into the frame and Becca Barnes regularly messages you on Facebook.

So when Bucky finally invites you over to his family home for the weekend, you’re really not as nervous as you’d expect to be. Sure, there’s a vague sense of anxiety that stirs your stomach at the thought of how concrete and real this all is because, well. You’ve never had a proper boyfriend before. But Bucky’s mom has his smile and his dad has his eyes and Becca seems to be the best bits of all of them, so why shouldn’t this be anything but good?

“My mom is asking me if you like Mexican food,” Bucky says, phone in his right hand, sat cross legged on your bed. He’s supposed to be helping you pack. The most help he’s been was throwing one of his socks he’d found down the side of the bed right at your face. “I said yeah. We ate enchiladas once, right?”

“I’d use the term we loosely. I made the enchiladas and you ate them after you’d had practice.” You raise an eyebrow as he sheepishly looks up from his phone screen. “I don’t remember actually eating anything that night.”

“Well.” Bucky shrugs, smirking and deliberately looking away from you. “I had a great meal that night. Not just talking about the enchiladas, either.”

Okay, so now it’s your turn to throw a dirty sock at his features. You watch as he makes a show of spluttering and acting disgusted like you’ve just thrown a tonne of raw sewage all fucking over him. “You’re the worst.”

“I know you are,” he says, teasing, scrambling over to wrap the sock round your neck like a scarf. You squeal, giggling as you try and push him away--because his football socks are gross, come on--but he only laughs louder as you struggle, pulling you closer and closer. “But what am I?”

His face is just so damn kissable even when he’s being annoying beyond belief. You have clothes to pack away, dinner to assemble (well, he’s the one that’s supposed to be making the dinner) and Netflix to watch but you let your giggles subside, curl your fingers round his jaw, let your lips collide.

“You’re still the worst,” you murmur against him. “But I seem to find that endearing, somehow.”

“Touche, sweetheart. Touche.”

It’s not exactly difficult to get to Bucky’s childhood home from university. He’s lived in Brooklyn his whole life so it’s just a matter of traveling there from Upper Manhattan on public transport. You have a feeling he’d not invited you sooner because he’d worried about whether you were ready--if things were going too fast, if you’d get intimidated standing in the front hall of the house he’d grown up in. But when he’d shyly suggested it walking through Central Park on the day of your fourth month anniversary, you’d squeezed his hand and let him know that yeah, you’re kind of okay with meeting the family he fucking adores.

The house itself lies in a fairly innocuous and relatively expensive looking neighbourhood, with tan brickwork and big windows and a bright red front door. A couple of cars sit in the driveway and flowers burst through borders trailing from the front yard into the back. You’d barely wheeled your suitcase up to the steps when the door flies open, two extremely excitable women rushing down to meet you.

“Oh, (Y/N)!” The older one--Bucky’s mom--gushes immediately, grabbing you into a hug before stepping back to take a proper look at you. “Oh, honey. You look just like all the pictures James has sent me. Becca, isn’t she just beautiful?”

“So beautiful!” Becca confirms, blue eyes glittering. She looks so much like Bucky it’s unreal. “Where did you get your boots from? I’ve been wanting a pair--”

“Hey!” Bucky jokingly breaks in between the three of you, running a hand across your waist. “Stop hassling my girl! I am here too, you know. You could show a little enthusiasm.”

Bucky’s mom slaps him on the arm in teasing and the two women fall under his arms, clutching his waist. His eyes close as he hugs them, squeezing them as tight as possible. Despite the closeness in distance it’s been a few weeks since they all last saw each other, and you can see it in the way he holds them. He’s home.

“Miss me, then?” Bucky says, tongue poking out between his teeth. Becca responds by burrowing closer into his side, while his mom reaches out to clutch your hand.

“Of course we missed you. We miss you every day.” His mom looks at you with a gaze of gratification and what...what might be relief, so you smile and squeeze her hand back. “I am just glad that this one has clearly been looking after you.”

“He looks after me, too, Mrs Barnes.” Bucky’s expression is warm, loving, face slightly tilted to the side as he falls in love with you just a little more.

“Please, call me Winifred.” She assures, before gesturing towards the open door. “Come on in. It’s freezing, and your dad can’t wait to embarrass you.”

Winifred lets go of your palm and trots up the stairs, Becca bounding excitedly behind her. Bucky rolls his eyes, picking up your suitcase, but it’s all done in jest.

“They’re going to be like this all weekend, just so you know.” Bucky informs you, ushering you up the steps in front of him. “If it gets a bit much, just say. They’ll get it.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m more interested in all these photos you’ve been sending your mom of me.”

Bucky groans and you laugh, not so secretly pleased by it all. His heart is so full to bursting for you that he sends his mom photographs. It’s, as Sam would surely put it, absolutely sickening.

Bucky’s dad is just as intrigued about you as his mom and sister are, but in a calmer, drier way shown through his bemused expressions and quietly funny comments round the dinner table. Where Winifred and Becca are thrumming with energy, he peacefully sits through the storm--exchanging measured conversation with his son and watching as you deal with Winifred and Becca’s near incessant questioning.

“(Y/N),” he says, quite suddenly, passing you a bowl of salad. “James says you’re the reason he passed Russian Literature last semester.”

You flush a little, not quite meeting his gaze as you pile lettuce onto your plate. “I wouldn’t go that far, Mr Barnes. Buck--I mean, James, is probably one of the smartest people I know.”

Becca snorts with laughter before masking it with a cough, and Bucky kicks her leg under the table, his mouth crammed full of enchilada. It’s funny, watching him interact with his younger sister. It’s like you’re getting a glimpse into the childhood they shared and you were never part of. The scuffed knees and pretend games and play fights that got out of hand.

“He works hard, and that’s all I ever ask of my children.” Bucky’s dad smiles warmly and proudly, eyes crinkling. There’s the blue, where it came from. Bucky’s dad has the same bright blue eyes, like the rough sea on the English coastline. Bucky’s cheeks burn pink and his hand finds your knee under the table, his fingers flexing over the fabric of his jeans. “And if he finds someone who works as hard as he does, well... I’m going to be a happy man.”

Bucky winks at you. “Good thing (Y/N) is the smartest gal I know, then.”

Winifred chooses that moment to bring out a pecan pie she’d made from scratch because Bucky said you’d like them and for half a moment you think you might burst into tears, because four months into loving their son and they’ve accepted you like you’re their own. There is no subtle (or unsubtle) judgement, no tripping up, no how can you possibly be good enough for our boy.

He loves you, so they love you. It’s as simple as that.

Bucky’s childhood room only has a twin bed so you both curl into it like a tin of sardines, limbs entangled and breaths confused, cold feet pressed together under a red striped duvet. There are still teddy bears on top of wardrobes and piles of superhero figurines stacked in boxes, comic books and Star Wars memorabilia and posters of his favourite football stars. Photographs line his wall of him and Steve and Becca and old high school football teams, pinned up with flaking sellotape.

“I don’t think I have enough wall space,” he says, on the edge of sleep, face burrowed into your neck. You don’t turn but trail your hand up his arm until it meets the back of his head, fingers twisting round the hair that grows there.

“Enough wall space for what?”

“For you,” he hums gently, “You’d fill every centimeter of it like you fill every cell of my body.”

He falls asleep, like he often does after delirious muted declarations of love, but that’s okay. You don’t have to fill his wall. You’re happy existing merely in the thrumming, heady organ within his ribcage. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and everything he’s always given.

In the morning Bucky shows you the sights of his home borough, Becca insisting on tagging along for the ride. You look over Brooklyn Bridge and eat hipster pizza and giggle amongst a crowd of serious tourists in Brooklyn Museum. Becca eventually meets a friend and disappears off into the city, so Bucky takes you to Prospect Park, beautiful and gloomy in the harsh January frost. It’s not long before you encounter the pop-up ice rink that appears for the winter season and, really, it would be a shame to skip the opportunity. It’s not half as busy as the rink at Rockefeller Center.

Weirdly, Bucky’s more erratic on the ice than you are. His long limbs stutter and stumble as he tries to regain his balance and you laugh, grabbing onto his gloved hands.

“This sure is a bonding experience,” Bucky’s voice wobbles as he almost takes out a small child with his right leg, “You trying to hold the weight of a six-foot tall football player while also on ice.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” you reply. You pull him violently so he, again, doesn’t knock a group of little schoolchildren like bowling pins. It gives him such a fright that both of you end up tumbling to the ground, frantically reaching out for each other’s hands to gain any semblance of balance.

It doesn’t work. You just end up lying on his chest, on view of the whole of fucking Brooklyn, and he has the nerve to fucking kiss you.

“What?” Bucky shrugs, not looking the least bit ashamed. “Wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.”

“It’s a good job you’re so cute.” You half-smile, trying to roll off him and onto the ice so you’re not holding up the rest of the skaters. He struggles to his feet, palms scraped but otherwise unhurt--but the pout on his lips says hot chocolate over another turn round the rink, and you’re not in a position to refuse.

On your last evening before reality resumes once again you and Bucky cook dinner. Well. You watch intently as Bucky throws the ingredients for a chilli in a pan, making sure he doesn’t accidentally do anything wacky (which he does an awful lot). He chases you round the kitchen with fresh chili on his fingers but Becca eventually teams up with you, whacking him with a spatula into submission. His laugh is so carefree it’s magical. You wish you could keep it forever, keep it like this.

(Your stomach swoops dramatically at the thoughts of what the future could hold if this--if this were to last forever.)

The food goes down well. Winifred gazes at you dreamily before gathering up the plates with Becca and Bucky, leaving you and his dad at the dinner table.

“I’ve...been worried about him,” Bucky’s dad admits in the quiet, the only noise faint giggling coming from the kitchen. “About James. About college. Because there have been times when he’s come home and there looks like there’s nothing left inside of him. But I look at him now, and...he’s not just living. He’s thriving. And I think that, at least in part, is because of you.”

You blink back at him, not sure what to say. There are not sufficient words in the English language to reply to that, the tenderness and gratefulness Mr Barnes shows in his expressive eyes and kind mouth. It clicks why Winifred looked at you with relief when you’d first met. They’d been so worried about him.

“You make him so happy, kid.” Bucky’s dad’s smile is crooked, just like Bucky’s own. “I’m just glad you found each other.”

You can only smile back. But sometimes expressions say all the words you need to, so. Bucky’s dad gets it.

You hold him a little tighter in the twin bed that night. Face to face rather than back to back. Watching Bucky Barnes breathe is a privilege, but loving him is a responsibility. He will never be empty or lonely while you can feel his skin beneath your fingertips. He will never be anything but him.

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dfroza · 3 years

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lost & found things

this is what we see in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament book of Luke in chapter 15:

Jesus became increasingly popular among notorious sinners—tax collectors and other social outcasts. The Pharisees and religious scholars noticed this.

Pharisees and Religious Scholars: This man welcomes immoral people and enjoys their company over a meal!

Jesus (with another parable): Wouldn’t every single one of you, if you have 100 sheep and lose one, leave the 99 in their grazing lands and go out searching for the lost sheep until you find it? When you find the lost sheep, wouldn’t you hoist it up on your shoulders, feeling wonderful? And when you go home, wouldn’t you call together your friends and neighbors? Wouldn’t you say, “Come over and celebrate with me, because I’ve found my lost sheep”? This is how it is in heaven. They’re happier over one sinner who changes his way of life than they are over 99 good and just people who don’t need to change their ways of life.

Or imagine a woman who has 10 silver coins. She loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the whole house, and search diligently until that coin is found? And when she finds it, doesn’t she invite her friends and neighbors and say, “Celebrate with me! I’ve found that silver coin that I lost”? Can’t you understand? There is joy in the presence of all God’s messengers over even one sinner who changes his way of life.

Once there was this man who had two sons. One day the younger son came to his father and said, “Father, eventually I’m going to inherit my share of your estate. Rather than waiting until you die, I want you to give me my share now.” And so the father liquidated assets and divided them. A few days passed and this younger son gathered all his wealth and set off on a journey to a distant land. Once there he wasted everything he owned on wild living. He was broke, a terrible famine struck that land, and he felt desperately hungry and in need. He got a job with one of the locals, who sent him into the fields to feed the pigs. The young man felt so miserably hungry that he wished he could eat the slop the pigs were eating. Nobody gave him anything.

So he had this moment of self-reflection: “What am I doing here? Back home, my father’s hired servants have plenty of food. Why am I here starving to death? I’ll get up and return to my father, and I’ll say, ‘Father, I have done wrong—wrong against God and against you. I have forfeited any right to be treated like your son, but I’m wondering if you’d treat me as one of your hired servants?’” So he got up and returned to his father. The father looked off in the distance and saw the young man returning. He felt compassion for his son and ran out to him, enfolded him in an embrace, and kissed him.

The son said, “Father, I have done a terrible wrong in God’s sight and in your sight too. I have forfeited any right to be treated as your son.”

But the father turned to his servants and said, “Quick! Bring the best robe we have and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. Go get the fattest calf and butcher it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate because my son was dead and is alive again. He was lost and has been found.” So they had this huge party.

Now the man’s older son was still out in the fields working. He came home at the end of the day and heard music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. The servant said, “Your brother has returned, and your father has butchered the fattest calf to celebrate his safe return.”

The older brother got really angry and refused to come inside, so his father came out and pleaded with him to join the celebration. But he argued back, “Listen, all these years I’ve worked hard for you. I’ve never disobeyed one of your orders. But how many times have you even given me a little goat to roast for a party with my friends? Not once! This is not fair! So this son of yours comes, this wasteful delinquent who has spent your hard-earned wealth on loose women, and what do you do? You butcher the fattest calf from our herd!”

The father replied, “My son, you are always with me, and all I have is yours. Isn’t it right to join in the celebration and be happy? This is your brother we’re talking about. He was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found again!”

The Book of Luke, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 23rd chapter of the book of Job:

Job confided to his friends.

Job: So once again you are telling me my complaint amounts to rebellion,

that the heavy hand I feel upon me is smothering my groans?

Would that I knew where to find Him.

I would appear before Him.

I would lay my case out before Him;

I would fill up my mouth with arguments.

And then I would finally learn how He would answer me,

and I would understand what He tells me.

Would He oppose me merely with His great power? Surely not!

Surely He would show me the respect of listening to my argument.

There, in that courtroom, a moral man might hope to reason with Him,

and I would escape my Judge forever.

Alas, wherever I go, ahead or behind,

He is not there;

I am unable to find Him.

When He works on either side of me, I still cannot see Him.

I catch no glimpse of Him.

But He knows the course I have traveled.

And I believe that were He to prove me,

I would come out purer than gold from the fire.

My foot has been securely set in His tracks;

I have kept to His course of life without swerving;

I have not departed from the commands of His lips;

I have valued everything He says more than all else.

He alone is one True God; who can alter Him?

Whatever He desires within Himself, He does.

For He will carry out exactly what He has planned for me,

and in the future there are more plans to come.

Therefore, I am deeply troubled before Him;

when I ponder it at any length, I am terrified of Him.

Yes, God has melted my courage,

and the Highest One has overwhelmed me with His terror.

He could have turned me aside when the darkness came,

but He did not cut me off.

Nor does He hide my face from the gloom that has now overtaken me.

The Book of Job, Chapter 23 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, April 30 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that looks into our “rest”

It is written in our Scriptures: "Commit your way to the LORD, trust also in Him, and he will bring it to pass" (Psalm 37:5). In this verse, the word translated "commit" comes from the Hebrew root galal (גלל), which could be rendered as "roll away" or "heap upon" (the word gal means a heap or pile of stones). The LORD spoke this word when He said to Joshua, "This day have I rolled away (galal) the reproach of Egypt from off you" (Josh. 5:9) and named the place "Gilgal" (גִּלְגָּל), a word-play meaning a wheel or "rolling away." In great mercy the LORD "rolls away" the reproach of our sin.

The word galal can also mean to trust or to commit, with the connotation of "rolling one's trouble" away from oneself upon someone else who can help. Thus the Messiah entrusted (galal) His suffering unto the LORD (Psalm 22:8), and we are likewise encouraged to "commit" (galal) our way to his loving will. When we trust in His love, when we "roll away" the burden of our lives to His care, our thoughts will be "established" and we can freely enjoy the confidence that God Himself is directing our way (Prov. 16:9, Psalm 37:23). We can then experience genuine rest and shalom, despite the tumult of the world and its tribulations.

As the Lord Yeshua cried out, "Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28), so may we come, rolling away our burdens unto Him, and having our way established in His shalom (1 Pet. 5:7; Psalm 55:22). Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

4.29.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

April 30, 2021

Jehovah

“And, Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of thine hands.” (Hebrews 1:10)

The primary name for God in Scripture is the majestic name Jehovah, occurring nearly 7,000 times. The early Jews were reluctant to use that name for fear of using it lightly (Exodus 20:7) and substituted the word Adonai (meaning Master or Lord) in its place. Our English versions have followed suit, using the term “Lord” for Jehovah (small or all caps to distinguish it from Adonai, or Lord). Thus, the name Jehovah appears only four times in the King James and causes us at times to miss the full impact of the passage.

This is especially true in the New Testament quotations from Old Testament passages that used the name “Jehovah” for which “Lord” has been substituted. Now in the English versions the name “Lord” appears. If “Jehovah” (i.e., deity) were read instead, much richer meaning would be gathered, and it would prove beyond a doubt the full deity of Christ. Consider two examples.

First, our text quotes from Psalm 102:25-27. The entire psalm consists of praise to Jehovah, and here in Hebrews it addresses the Son. If we read “thou, Jehovah, in the beginning hast laid the foundations of the earth” and realize that Jesus is the subject of the passage, we recognize that Jesus can be none other than the Creator God.

Also, in Matthew 3:3, where John the Baptist fulfilled his prophesied role by teaching “Prepare ye the way of the Lord,” quoting from Isaiah 40:3, we see Jesus equated with the Jehovah of the Old Testament, for Isaiah uses the term LORD, or Jehovah.

In these and many other examples, we see Christ as the Jehovah Jesus and that the Lord of the Old Testament is the Jesus of the New Testament. JDM

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spiritualgravity · 4 years

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Spiritual Gravity

The first time I can recall hearing from a spirit is going on 20 years ago while at the gym. I was on the treadmill, early in the morning, stomping away in order to clock a few miles.

Walking at a fairly fast pace, and slowly inching up the incline, while simultaneously holding on for both dear life and onto the handle bars in hopes of not falling backwards…I attempted to skim a magazine.

There was an article about breast cancer awareness in the publication, and suddenly I had the presence of my maternal grandfather with me.

He passed away when I was 8-years-old; I only have a handful of memories of him because we did not live close by.

It was the very first time in my life when I literally knew a spirit was with me, and still, even today, I find it hard to explain this experience as well as all of them that would later happen over the next two decades.

It was as if he appeared out of no where; I didn’t physically see him, but just knew it was him. I was taken back, and quietly in my mind acknowledged him.

“Hi, hello. Umm, did you want to tell me something?”

We went back and forth — him showing me visualizations, as well as audible messages all for my sister, Christine. The messages had to do with urging her to get a mammogram, which I later found out, she had been putting off. He told me that there was nothing alarmingly wrong, but that she needed to be diligent about that screening.

There are several types of ‘mental mediumship’ abilities, ways to communicate with spirit, i.e. souls who are no longer in their physical bodies. I have clairvoyance and clairaudient abilities.

We are spirtual beings having a human experience.

Clairvoyance is the ability to see a spirit or images (I only see images in my mind’s eye…well, until recently I physically saw spirit for the first time, but I’ll get back to that story later) that are sent telepathically by a spirit. The word has roots in two French words: clair (clear) and voir (to see), so clairvoyance means “clear seeing.”

According to the book, Where Two Worlds Meet, the most common way mediums see clairvoyantly is through subjective clairvoyance, which is much like the way we see things in our imagination, as mental images.

Clairaudience is when mediums ‘hear’ messages from spirit. For me personally, I don’t literally hear voices — no one is shouting at me from across the room — the messages come across like my own thoughts, but they’re not mine.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been sensitive. And for most of that time, I considered this a flaw. As a teenager, my Mother used to encourage me to “stop taking on others’ drama or issues.” Like a good Mother, she was trying to protect me. I have always tried to be a good listener, and do whatever I can to help loved ones feel better by showing empathy, sometimes to a fault.

Actually, it was pretty much always to a fault.

I’m currently in the middle of reading Glennon Doyle’s latest book, Untamed, and I had an ah-ha moment when she shared an insightful sentiment about being a sensitive person. She spelled out that the opposite of being sensitive is being insensitive, and that’s - well - a terrible thing to be! I finally realized, at the age of 40, my sensitivity is an amazing gift.

There have been countless stories and circumstances of serendipity over my lifetime. I oftentimes know things before they actually happen. I have hunches, I have feelings, or I just…know. It turns out that all mediums are also psychics, but not all psychics are mediums.

One lovely happenstance of divine intervention was learning about and virtually meeting Dougall Fraser 10 years ago, a renowned psychic and life coach who lives in Los Angeles. While working at a pet products company at the time and handling their public relations, Dougall’s manager and husband David contacted me for a raffle giveaway to be used on Dougall’s radio show. We hit it off, became virtual friends, and I’ve been following Dougall’s work ever since. He can see and feel people’s auras. I’ve easily taken at least six of his remote classes, and one in particular was eye opening for me. His class, Empowering the Empath, helped me to learn how to protect my own energy (empaths are like sponges and can inadvertently taken on other’s energy).

Light worker. Empath. Healer.

There are many, many names to identify people like me.

I haven’t publicized or publicly shared my ability to communicate with spirit, probably because I didn’t want to be judged. Only closest friends and family know this (very important) part of my life. I try to live my life with integrity, to share my authentic self, and believe that being vulnerable is absolutely beautiful.

As the years go on, this ability to connect with spirits has become stronger and stronger, and that is because I have become more spiritually grounded and connected with my higher Self. I am a sucker for metaphors and one that I’ve used for a long time to explain this ability is an antenna. When I am practicing self-care, prayer, and in a chronic state of gratitude, my antenna is sky high and consequently hear from spirit more often.

Last night I was on a Zoom meeting with yet another renowned light worker who is also a medium, James Van Praagh. During that experience, I felt an unrelenting nudge to share my ability with the world.

I had no idea why now, all I knew was I’ve come to trust this voice inside of me and I was going to listen to it.

There was a tiny bit of hesitation as I was getting ready to hit “post” on my Facebook page, sharing this secret ability that I’ve kept close to me for half of my life. Not because I thought anyone would judge me (thankfully, I’ve overcome the tragedy of deeply caring what people think of me), but because it would mean I would need to become code red vulnerable, more than I’ve ever been before.

At this point I am not giving readings as a profession. But I’ve also learned to never say never — my heart feels that I needed to come out of the spiritual closet in order to move my life’s greater work forward, which is ultimately and simply to help people.

Several years back, I met a gal who would quickly become my spiritual mentor, Karen. She is a reiki master and a medium. She is truly gifted and has influenced my life in a number of ways. In fact, she is responsible for the title of this blog. During one of my reiki (i.e. energy healing & balancing) sessions, and sharing messages that she received from spirit for me, Karen said,

“You are the sun.”

I feel, in the depths of my being, that I’m on this planet, in this lifetime, to spread light — so that message made perfect sense.

I’m currently in something known as a ‘small circle’ that Karen put together. It means that a small group of people meet every few weeks and we learn from each other — practice healing exercises with one another, we do group meditations, balance our energy fields, and much more. We’ve continued to meet remotely since the pandemic quarantine hit over two months ago and I’m forever grateful for this small circle of like-minded men and women.

After I shared my truth on Facebook last night, a friend asked me what the experience has been like for me — how did this evolution of my gift happen — and is what ultimately prompted me to write this blog post. Since reading that inquiry, I’ve been flooded with memories.

Memories of random spirits coming through while I’m innocently enjoying myself while out to dinner with a group of friends, and friends of friends.

“Hi, I know you don’t know me and we just met, but I have to share something with you. I think your Mother is here in spirit.”

Memories of workshops, classes, seminars, group readings, and beach meditation retreats that I’ve attended. Reading Born Knowing, Intuitive Studies, Where Two Worlds Meet, But You Knew That Already, and many more books about this private piece of me, to better understand it all.

Having the ability to communicate with spirit is like knowing how to speak a language, but you don’t actually remember learning how to speak it. You just, speak that language.

Historically, spirit has come through when I’m in an altered state of consciousness. In the shower or taking a bath, working out at the gym, on a walk, or after a few glasses of wine. When we are fully conscious and awake, our brains emit waves of electrical energy that are very different when meditating or sleeping. In normal, awake consciousness, we are in Beta mode — exterior stimuli dominate our thoughts. It involves solving problems, thinking, and taking action.

To connect with spirit, we need to at least be in Alpha mode, or even Theta. You’ve probably entered Alpha mode without even realizing it. Think about a time when you’ve been driving a car, pulled up at home, and then realized you don’t quite remember the last few miles of driving. Thankfully, our subconscious mind kept the car in the correct lane and took the proper turns to make it home, until the conscious mind returned to the wheel.

This explains why I rarely ever remember messages from spirit. When they come through, it feels like I’m dreaming, but still awake. I will scribble down notes as I get messages because I know, otherwise, there is no way I’ll remember them in order to convey to the intended recipient.

Spirits always come to me, without invitation. I’ve only intentionally tried to connect with a spirit proactively one time a few years back. A friend of a friend, who became an acquaintance of mine, wanted to connect with her grandmother. Our mutual friend suggested that maybe I could try...so I figured it was time to take off my training wheels and give it a go.

Before she even arrived at my house, her grandmother was already coming through and showing me signs. My mentor / guru Karen gave me some prayers and intentions to say prior to the “medium sitting” and I felt very comfortable with the experience. But, I haven’t done anything like that since then.

As time has passed and I’ve had countless experiences connecting with spirits, it’s been easier for me to make that connection. My antenna is up, and has evidently stayed up, as my own soul has expanded and grown.

So much so, just last week a spirit appeared to me while I was in my bedroom, hanging out with my daughter after she woke up from her nap. I looked up and in an instant, saw a spirit (remember, I don’t normally see anyone, I just feel their presence). It was a man. It happened so fast, that I was completely in a state of shock. My jaw was literally dropped and I stared into space, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.

Because I typically have to be in a super relaxed state of mind (note: quarantined with a two-year-old is not conducive to a relaxed state of mind), I was mostly surprised that someone could even get my attention while I was totally distracted. The second reason I was picking my open mouth up off the floor was the fact that I literally saw a man.

Once I got a grip and accepted the fact this just happened, I asked him,

“Hi, hello. Umm…who are you?”

And just like that, the exact same sequence unfolded as it did 20 years ago with my Grandfather.

I knew who it was instantly.

The man was my friend, John, who tragically died in a car accident when I was in high school.

Mind you, I haven’t thought about him for a very, very long time.

And just like every other connection that spirit makes with me, I started to hear messages from him, as well as see visuals in my mind’s eye — scenes played out that depicted what the silent messages were conveying. The messages were for his girlfriend at the time of his death. Now, I need to track her down and make the awkward, but important phone call.

Growing up in a strict Catholic household, hearing directly from spirit was never in the playbook for my life. Praying was seemingly a one-way street — I would make requests, give thanks, and have a one-way conversation with my guardian angels, God, His son, and His tribe of saints. But God had other plans for me, to make this journey on planet Earth a two-way street of conversations, and I’m grateful to be a conduit for spreading love beyond the stars.

A consistent message that I’ve been given for my life, is that in order for me to accelerate and fully utilize this gift, I would need to stop taking on and carrying other’s pain — that has been my spiritual gravity barrier, holding me down. I’ve been working really hard on overcoming that hurdle for quite some time, from learning how to meditate, learning how to forgive those who have hurt me, and learning to energetically protect myself — and now, I’m finally ready to turn up the sunshine.

#sunshine #medium #mediumship #love #lovewins #clairvoyant #Psychic #self love #spiritual #lightworker #healer #energy #reiki

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kayincolwyn · 4 years

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Whatever It Means To Be Human (Easter reflection, 4/12/2020)

As many others throughout the world have been pointing out over these last couple months, these are strange times that we're living in.

Back in December around Christmas I started getting sick, and in January I had to go to the ER for some kind of infection that was giving me a sore throat as well as a fever and headache, got a look over and a prescription for a week long course of penicillin which seemed to knock out the infection (and later got hit with a 1200 bill for that ER visit, because my insurance didn’t cover it, that I still need to pay back, which I was livid about when I first found out about it but now am trying to accept as best I can because I have bigger things to worry about). A couple weeks later I had a followup checkup (with a very sweet and very pretty nurse, so no complaints there) and I remember staff at the clinic being pretty jumpy about some virus over in China (now widely known around the world as the coronavirus, or Covid 19) that I honestly hadn't heard about before then, and they were asking me if I had traveled to China or had any interaction with anyone from there, and of course I said no, and I remember being kind of annoyed by their jumpiness at the time. Well, needless to say, now I can see why they were being so jumpy.

I've had some kind of bug or another off and on since then, like a lot of people do in the wintertime, but because of, well, 'everything that's going on' (a phrase I've been using and I've heard a lot of people using lately, like it's become some kind of collective cultural meme) I find myself worrying much more than usual about a little cough or stuffy nose or feeling a little under the weather. At first, like a lot of people, I thought this was no big deal, that it would be another of those diseases that infected a few people but would be quickly contained, and then when that didn't happen I thought, like a lot of younger folks, that I would be fine and just needed to worry about older folks that I care about, but now I know that I could potentially be taken out by this virus too, and even at the ripe old age of 37, so now I worry about myself as well as others, and I admit that, while I’m trying to be brave, part of me is scared.

Even with that worry and anxiety, and with the whole world changing so drastically in just a matter of weeks, I'm still working (with the realization that janitorial work has more value than perhaps I initially thought or felt) and still busing it to and from work and going to the grocery store as needed, while usually wearing my newly acquired neoprene half mask (with inserted filters provided by a friend) like armor, and while washing my bloody hands more than at any other time in my life, and while trying to boost my immunity as best I can with vitamins and supplements of various kinds. Strange times indeed.

I admit it's kind of odd to be considered an 'essential worker', to hear some even hailing people in my position as 'heroes on the frontline' or something like that, when for years I've felt that being a janitor was equal to being at the bottom of the totem pole, and over the years I have on occasion been made to feel less than by others because of my place on the totem pole (though to be fair I've also received my share of gratitude and kindness from others concerning my work as well, which I'm thankful for and appreciate). I mean, I don't really see myself as particularly heroic (I see doctors and nurses and other healthcare workers who are directly risking their lives in order to save others as far more heroic than myself, for example), but just as a guy trying to do his job in order to provide some service to others while also making a living, but I appreciate the validation nevertheless.

As an 'essential worker' (though even among 'essential workers' I still feel like I'm at the bottom or at least near the bottom of the totem pole), I just want to say that I feel that we all have a part to play in this world, that we all have something that we can contribute to the world, even if it may not seem like much.

Like I have seen some people online ragging on celebrities for trying to entertain others from the safety and comfort of their homes (with many of them being out of work at the moment for obvious reasons) but I would say that trying to entertain or encourage others in whatever way you can, even from a distance, can be meaningful and has its place, because we could all use a little entertainment and encouragement sometimes. I mean, for example, people out there can rag on Gal Gadot for trying to sing Imagine with a bunch of other celebrities who may or may not have any musical talent or ability in some online video, but even as cheesy and cringe-inducing as that may be, I still loved her as Wonder Woman (and through that role she has inspired many people, including many young women and girls) and I appreciate her desire, as well as the desire of everyone in that video, to uplift others in some way. Heck, even just trying to stay home as much as possible, trying to keep your distance from others, trying to be mindful of others, as she and many other celebrities as well as everyday people have been and are doing, in this time can be meaningful and shouldn't be completely discounted.

And to me it's not about being 'essential' or not, or 'heroic' or not, it's just about being human, and doing what you can to be a decent human in whatever way you can.

Of course being human is hard, as every human, no matter who they are or where they are, gets their share of suffering and sorrow in some way or another or at some time or another in their lives (though to be fair some certainly do seem to get a bigger share than others, and some comparatively less), and being a decent human is even harder, as it's often a challenge to do some good or do the right thing with all your faults and flaws and with all your limitations and shortcomings, and then going above and beyond that and being someone that most others would think of as a 'saint', well, that seems nigh impossible.

And what does it mean to be human anyway?

I guess that brings me to something that's been on my mind, and is on my mind more now what with it being Easter and having Jesus on the brain a little more than usual (hey, you can take the boy out of the Christianity but you can't take the Christianity out of the boy).

In times like this where the world is shaken up and we're in a semi-apocalyptic state of mind, where our mortality not just individually but collectively is more in question than usual, the question of what it means to be human looms large for many of us, along with those often asked questions about where we come from, why we're here, where we're going... you know, the usual fare.

Lately I've been reading some books by former evangelical Christians, including Unfollowed by Megan Phelps-Roper, granddaughter of Fred Phelps, founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, as well as books by Frank Schaeffer, son of Francis Schaeffer, an influential evangelical thinker and theologian.

Being a former evangelical Christian myself who is trying to find his way after questioning and deconstructing and for the most part walking away from that way of seeing and operating in the world, I can resonate with much of what they have to say and share, like the pain and loneliness there is in walking away from a community that you can no longer agree with to try and find your own path, or how with freedom to think for yourself comes an uncertainty that you have to get used to because now it's on you to decide what you will believe and where you will stand rather than just following what others have taught you or told you, or the mixed feelings about who you were and where you were when it wasn't all bad and it's part of who you are today and even while you don't want to, and really can't, go back, you're still grateful for it somehow.

And in their books they both wrestle with what it means to be human, what it means to be a good person, with the value of life and the value of love, because those questions and concerns still matter to them whether God or some higher power exists or not, just as they still matter to me on some level.

I've also been thinking a bit about Fred Rogers, better known to the world as Mister Rogers, the widely beloved children's TV host, after watching the recent film which stars Tom Hanks as Rogers, A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood, as well as the documentary Won't You Be My Neighbor?, and listening to a podcast about him called Finding Fred.

My late friend Erin McCarty was a big fan of Fred Rogers (I even sent her this Mister Rogers t-shirt that I found at a thrift store which she wore proudly in some of her photos on Facebook) whom she saw as a real saint, and she was far from being alone in thinking of him as one. Fred Rogers was one of those people who seemed to go above and beyond just being a decent human, as he was by all accounts a highly exceptional human, who, while having his share of quirks and eccentricities, more than most dedicated his life every waking hour to pursuing the good and showing love to others (and most especially children, whom he could be thought to be the patron saint of if he were canonized as a saint I should think) and even in such a way that no one with a sound mind and clear conscience could find any fault in him.

Those closest to him knew that he at times struggled with feeling inadequate, with feeling as though he wasn't really making a difference in the world, like what he was doing wasn't enough, but even so he continued to move forward, continued to try, an artist whose art-form was kindness and empathy (or as that podcast Finding Fred put it ‘a genius at empathy’).

I remember I was talking with a friend of mine about Fred Rogers the other day and he said that he thought if there was anyone who could perhaps have been the second coming of Christ it was Rogers, and while some might think that sentiment a little sacrilegious, I think it's a testament to the respect many people have for the man's character. People may on occasion playfully mock Mister Rogers for some of his mannerisms, for the way he talked or dressed or otherwise expressed himself (though of course much of that was for the sake of the children he was communicating with), but if you were to ask anyone with any sense at all they would admit that he was, if nothing else, a good man.

I guess the same could be said of Jesus, whose teachings about life and love Fred Rogers, being a Presbyterian minister who took his faith seriously (even if he was kind enough and wise enough not to push it on others as many religious folks tend to do unfortunately), sought to follow and apply to his own life as best he could. Many have parodied Jesus in one way or another over the years (in fact the next book I'll be reading just in time for Easter is Lamb: The Gospel According To Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal, which I look forward to reading as it sounds like fun) but most would agree that he was, if nothing else, a good man. Even the beloved comedy group Monty Python, most of whom were agnostic or atheist, after studying the gospels in preparation for what would eventually become their classic comedy Life Of Brian, decided against making a film where they mocked Jesus but instead made a film that mocked the church that often failed to follow his example. Instead of focusing on Jesus in the film they decided to focus on a guy named Brian who was mistaken for Jesus, following him on all of his adventures (or misadventures), while occasionally showing the real Jesus respectfully somewhere in the background (much as was done in the film Ben Hur). They said their reason for doing this was that they couldn't help but appreciate much of what Jesus said and did in the gospels, or as they said in their decidedly British way 'you can't take the piss out of it'.

As Frank Schaeffer points out in his book Why I Am An Atheist Who Believes In God (which I thought was a pretty clever title, and one I can kind of resonate with as I’m somewhere in the middle like that myself), some things that Jesus says and does in the gospels, or at least is recorded as saying and doing, don't really make sense or seem inconsistent with the general thread of kindness and empathy that can be seen in Christ's teachings, and having read the gospels at least a couple of times myself (or at least a couple of their English translations anyway, where no doubt much gets lost in translation), I would agree. He wonders if maybe some things were taken out or added in, if the writers sometimes spun some things to bolster their own point of view (which humans tend to do unfortunately), or if some things were simply a result of 'the telephone game' as it were (with most of the gospels probably being written decades after the events that they chronicle took place so that's not really out of the realm of possibility), and he may be right (as much as many Christians out there, especially the more fundamentalist among them, who may believe that scripture is infallible and inerrant, would hate to admit it).

But whatever the case may be, there is still enough of that thread of kindness and empathy in Jesus' story and message that countless people have been inspired by it through the centuries since he was said to have lived and died (and at least according to the Easter story, risen from the dead), including people like Fred Rogers, and also including people like Megan Phelps-Roper and Frank Schaeffer or myself, who even though they no longer identify as Christian still see some value in Jesus’ example and teachings, or at least as they now interpret them.

Many still seek to follow that example and apply those teachings today, including in these very strange, and very difficult, times, trying to walk a path of kindness and empathy when the world seems to be falling apart. I can't really say for sure how much I'm doing that myself, walking that path, with all of my faults and flaws and limitations and shortcomings, but I would like to think or hope that I manage to do a little good each day and get things right at least on occasion.

The truth is though that many of us, including me, feel as though we don't measure up to the standard that someone like Jesus sets (or at least appears to set when you read about the kind of life he led), or even to the standard of someone like Fred Rogers. It just seems nigh impossible to meet that kind of standard. I mean I can't really speak for everyone who struggles with this, but I know that I have often struggled with wondering if I'm good enough, have debated whether I'm making a difference in the world, and have had doubts about whether I am even a decent human, let alone a saint. I feel like I fail or fall short in some way or another every day, feel like I don't care enough, don’t give enough, don't live big enough or love deep enough. Maybe some of my family and friends who see more in me than I see in myself might argue with me on this, but it's still how I feel sometimes, or even much of the time, and is a daily internal struggle for me.

But hearing about Fred Rogers, who some half jokingly (but also half seriously) would call the closest thing to a second coming of Christ that they can think of, having similar struggles gives me some perspective and comfort though, and it makes me wonder if even Jesus himself had such struggles, even if they may not have be written about, even if they were only written in his own heart, as blasphemous as the thought of someone whom many claim and believe to have been the Son of God, or even God in human form, actually struggling with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt may be, but blasphemous or not that thought gives me a strange kind of comfort.

I remember in reading the gospels one of the parts of Jesus' story that resonated most with me was him wrestling in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was arrested. Just imagining him being scared and uncertain and agonizing in the dirt and just being, well, more human like me, because I've been there too, is somehow encouraging, because if that's God, or a representative of God, or even just a very good man, maybe it's okay for me to be scared and uncertain and to agonize in the dirt too, because maybe I'm not alone in that.

One of the things that Fred Rogers is famous for saying is 'I like you just the way you are'. In the podcast Finding Fred, the podcast host, who greatly admires Fred Rogers, sometimes expressed struggling with that idea, being a black man who has experienced a lot of racism, and also being someone who has been mistreated in a lot of ways by others throughout his life, he wondered how he could like someone just as they were when, well, there was so much wrong with some people out there. One of his guests on the show, another admirer of Fred Rogers, suggested that what Rogers meant by 'I like you just the way you are' wasn't that everyone was perfect in every way, nor that everyone's words or actions or choices should be condoned, let alone praised, or that people didn't need to learn or grow in different ways, but rather that underneath all the dirt and the muck of our imperfection, our imperfect words and actions and choices, and no matter how deeply buried, there is something of value, something of worth, some spark of the divine in us, which can never be completely destroyed, and no matter how much others, or even we ourselves, may try to.

Of course, much like the host of the podcast, many of us struggle with seeing that that is true of those whom many of us would call 'monsters', the murderers and abusers and tyrants of this world, the worst of the worst if you will, but then it appears that Rogers was able to look at people even like that and see something of value and worth in them, seeing something of beauty beneath all of the ugliness, or at least the potential for it anyway.

I think of another man that many could think of as a saint, named Daryl Davis, who is a black man that has made it his mission to try to befriend members of hate groups, including members of the KKK, not in a concerted effort to convert them to his way of seeing things necessarily but simply to give them something to think about through their just knowing him. He has helped many to walk away from the KKK and other such groups simply by extending the hand of friendship to them, and he challenges others to try to break down divides by seeing the humanity in others, including those who are different from us, or even those who hurt us or frighten us.

I also think of Fred Phelps, who was the founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, and who has become an icon of religious hate to many, and what his granddaughter Megan wrote about him in her memoir Unfollowed, how even though to most people he was a terrible human being, even a monster, to her he was her 'Gramps', whom she loved dearly even if looking back she knows that he got a lot of things wrong, and she spoke of how towards the end of his life when he was falling into dementia that he softened considerably, and even to the point that his own church effectively excommunicated him and abandoned him in a retirement home, where Megan and her younger sister Grace, who had recently left the church (and at great personal sacrifice to themselves), snuck in without permission from their family to see him one last time, and Megan says he was mostly lucid at that time, and instead of reproaching them for having left the church he only expressed his love for them in the end. It seems that at the end of his life Fred Phelps didn't cling to his dogma and hate so much as his relationships and love, which is encouraging.

Fred Rogers (the other Fred if you will), whom Fred Phelps himself often mocked as 'a wuss and an enabler of wusses' among other things, even going so far as to protest at his funeral, would have been proud I think that Phelps had come so far at the end, and I am sure he would have said to him 'I like you just the way you are' and I think the humanity buried even in someone like Phelps was what Rogers was pointing to by saying that to everyone he encountered.

Frank Schaeffer spoke of his mother, Edith Schaeffer, in his book Sex, Mom, and God, in much the same way, even going so far as to say that even being straitjacketed by the limitations of her religion and its dogma she was a force of nature and he could see her humanity shine through throughout her life, especially towards the end when, as Fred Phelps did, she softened, and said that ultimately she was better than her beliefs, or that something in her, her humanity, rose above that.

And maybe that humanity, or that divine spark, or whatever you want to call it, was also what Jesus was pointing to and trying to call out, and whether that be in the everyman on the street, or in the seemingly irreparably damaged people that you may find in prisons (or even sometimes in governments) or even among the religious who can get so mired in their ideology and self-righteousness as to forget that spark within them or in others.

It may seem nigh impossible, if not flatly impossible, to live up the standard of what many of us think of as saviors or saints, but I think of a scene in A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood where Roger's wife Joanne says that 'Rodg' (as she affectionately called him) wouldn't want people to think of him as a saint, as he believed that anyone and everyone could walk the path that he walked, or at least tried to walk, and in their own special way.

I also think of how Jesus said to his disciples that they would do even greater things than him, which when you think of the kind of example that someone like Jesus set, namely one where you are willing to die for what you believe in and stand for, that seems like a pretty tall order, but it makes me wonder if, as controversial as this may be and contrary to popular and widespread religious opinion that has been built up around him for centuries, maybe Jesus wouldn't want us to think of him as a savior anymore than Fred Rogers would want us to think of him as a saint, because maybe instead of putting them up on pedestals we're meant to try and follow their example as best we can.

I remember one of the guests in the Finding Fred podcast saying that maybe instead of just looking back on Rogers and his example with admiration and nostalgia, we could also try to be like Fred Rogers ourselves, much as those who seek to follow the way of Jesus (which Rogers himself was trying to follow) instead of just looking back can try to be like him as much as they are able, and in their own special way.

With it being Easter today as I post this, I honestly don't know whether or not Jesus rose from the dead, heck I am not even one hundred percent sure if he even existed (as there are those who argue that he didn't, even if most historians would agree that he did, though most of them think that most of what was written about him was just fanciful legend that was built up around him, which may or may not be the case, because none of us can really know for sure on that since we weren't there, and unless we invent time travel or something it will continue to be a matter of faith, and faith alone), but then I am willing to keep something of an open mind about it, and even with where I am now I can still understand why many look to Jesus as a symbol of hope and the love of God, and why people see something meaningful in the story of his life, death, and resurrection because even if it may not be literally true (and again on that front it is a matter of faith), that doesn’t mean it isn’t mythically true. Whatever the case, I believe that his example and message of kindness and empathy lives on (even if one has to dig through a number of inconsistencies and mistranslations to find it), much as Fred Rogers’ similar example and message lives on.

And I guess this brings me back to 'everything that's going on', and the question of what it means to be human.

One of the things that a lot of people have been saying through this crisis that all of us in the world are facing is that 'we're all in this together' and I think it's safe to say that there's nothing quite like a pandemic to remind us of how much we value our relationships when we are having to keep our distance from others, including those we love, for our good and theirs, and when we are fearing for not only our own health and our own life but also for the health and lives of others.

I recently watched the film Contagion, which came out about ten years ago, and many are seeing it as eerily prophetic as much of the film parallels what is happening now, but one of the underlying messages of that film, as one of my favorite Youtubers, Like Stories Of Old, pointed out, is how much our relationships matter, how much those connections that can so easily be taken for granted matter, when we are faced with existential threats such as the one we seem to be faced with now. More likely than not, as in Contagion, this pandemic, as bad as it may get, will not be the end the world, but it is certainly shaking it up and it appears it will continue to do so for awhile, and in the midst of that all we have for sure is eachother, even if we can only be there for one another mostly at a distance and in spirit.

In A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood there was a moving scene where Rogers says concerning death and how difficult it is to talk about it that 'anything that is mentionable is manageable', and I think the same applies to the situation we are in now, we can face this and face it together, because we're not alone in this mess, not alone in the dirt, even as lonely as it may feel at times.

Our situation is also a reminder (and is another theme in Contagion) of how connected we all are, especially in this globalized world that we now live in. A friend of mine here on Tumblr was telling me in a recent message how this whole situation shows how interconnected we all are, and how every choice we make can impact those around us and can have a domino effect, even having effects, whether positive or negative, that we aren't even aware of.

What he said reminds me of this passage from the classic children's book Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, which I finished reading for the first time just a couple days ago, where there is this exchange between the book's chief protagonist Milo, accompanied by his loyal companions Tock and Humbug, and the princesses Rhyme and Reason:

“It has been a long trip,” said Milo, climbing onto the couch where the princesses sat; “but we would have been here much sooner if I hadn’t made so many mistakes. I’m afraid it’s all my fault.” “You must never feel badly about making mistakes,” explained Reason quietly, “as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons.” “But there’s so much to learn,” he said, with a thoughtful frown. “Yes, that’s true,” admitted Rhyme; “but it’s not just learning things that’s important. It’s learning what to do with what you learn and learning why you learn things at all that matters.” “That’s just what I mean,” explained Milo as Tock and the exhausted bug drifted quietly off to sleep. “Many of the things I’m supposed to know seem so useless that I can’t see the purpose in learning them at all.” “You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason, looking knowingly at Milo’s puzzled face, “but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. Why, when a housefly flaps his wings, a breeze goes round the world; when a speck of dust falls to the ground, the entire planet weighs a little more; and when you stamp your foot, the earth moves slightly off its course. Whenever you laugh, gladness spreads like the ripples in a pond; and whenever you’re sad, no one anywhere can be really happy. And it’s much the same thing with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.” “And remember, also,” added the Princess of Sweet Rhyme, “that many places you would like to see are just off the map and many things you want to know are just out of sight or a little beyond your reach. But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.”

While I think the main themes of The Phantom Tollbooth are the value of education as well as how you see and experience the world around you, I think this passage could also be applied to how we learn how to live and love, and how you follow a path of kindness and empathy.

It's a process to be sure, and we will all make mistakes along the way, but as Reason says, we can learn more from being wrong for the right reasons than being right for the wrong ones, and trying to apply what we've learned as best we can and holding onto our reasons for doing so is just as important as what we learn. And there's a purpose to it, to living and loving as best we can, and it can impact the world around us, it can be like a ripple in a pond that spreads out in ways we can't know or even imagine, and who knows, maybe it will take us to places that we couldn't have even dreamed of...

Maybe that's something to try remember whenever we get discouraged (and I know I do plenty, as I’m sure most of us do), much like Fred Rogers did, and perhaps even Jesus did, and when wondering whether or not we have cared enough or given enough or lived enough or loved enough, that even seemingly little things can have a great impact and can actually make a real difference in the world.

In Fred Rogers' last television appearance after 9/11 he spoke of how his mother said in times of crisis that you should "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” I remember in the Finding Fred podcast they pointed out how in that message he was speaking to the children who are now grown ups themselves, the ones who had watched his program as they were growing up, and he was pointing to their own humanity, to that divine spark within them, and calling them to become those helpers themselves.

Even in that instance Rogers struggled, as he was so shaken by the enormity of the events of 9/11 that he felt that nothing he said could really help, and yet many, including myself at the time, even not being as familiar with Fred Rogers then as I am now, as I hadn't really watched his show growing up myself (I was more of a TMNT and Transformers kind of kid back in the 80s), were encouraged by what he had to say, and it made an impact, it made a difference. It helped.

And we can help too in our own way, and even if we too may feel shaken up by the events of our own time, these strange times that we're living in, we too can make an impact and a difference, we can help in some way, and however small and inconsequential what we may have to offer may feel, and whether it may feel decent or good or 'essential' or 'heroic' enough or not, we can help, and even if we may not know that we are helping.

As far as the answers to some of those big questions, like where we come from, why we're here, and where we're going, honestly I'm not sure what the answers may be, I mean I have some guesses, but I don't know with absolute certainty (and I'm having to learn to live without that anyway, even as I try to look forward with some hope and look back with some gratitude), but whatever it means to be human, I think it may have something to do with doing what you need to do even when you're worried and scared, with trying as much as you can to lift up others when they're down or maybe even when you're down, with the value of life and of love, with not being alone in the dirt, with seeing some measure of value and worth in jaded and cynical adults as much as you may see it in children, with extending the hand of friendship, and maybe even to those that are different from you, or looking for the humanity even in those that hurt and frighten you, with somehow loving those that others may only see as irredeemable monsters, with seeing the light in someone even if they are held back by things that limit and hem them in, with not insisting that others put us up on pedestals whenever we do some good or get something right but that they try to do the same themselves as best they can just as we are trying to do, with learning and growing in every way we can, with facing difficult times together, with trying to encourage and support and help one another, and even as imperfect as we may be and are. Maybe it has something to do with all of that.

I hope that we'll get through these strange times, that we'll not only survive them but that this may also push us to change some things for the better, that this will push us forward somehow, through death towards resurrection, that this will remind us of our humanity, that spark within us, and while I don't really know why we are in these strange times, or why 'everything that's going on' is going on, really I do hope that in the end it will move us a little closer to finding out, both for ourselves and for eachother, what it means to be human.

#covid19 #everything thats going on #were in this together #essential worker #Easter #megan phelps roper #frank schaeffer #mister rogers #jesus #daryl davis #fred phelps #contagion #phantom tollbooth #9/11 #what it means to be human

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stephiebutton · 4 years

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So on Thursday before Coachella, my friend (who bows at the Altar of Ariana) sent me Ari’s posts on IG — one of the *NSYNC pay per view concert in which baby Ari was in the audience; and the new video of her lip syncing to Tearin’ Up My Heart. I thought maybe he was trying to convert me to an Arianator, but I honestly didn’t think much of it, nor did he, so I was just like ok, that’s cute!

On Friday, I had several people text me over a two hour timeframe when the rumors started spreading that *NSYNC may be playing Coachella—all while I was at work and couldn’t really wrap my head around it or even take the time to research it myself. At first I was like REALLY? Then I was like REALLY! By Friday evening, I knew something was going to go down, I just didn’t know what. I had convinced myself that they were going to perform, and that I had to be there, and I even researched flights and tickets; but then, I convinced myself that they were only going to introduce her, and I didn’t need to go. I was scheduled to close at work Sunday night, so I basically threw my hands in the air and was like “Oh well, I can’t go.”

Saturday rolled around, and I had a nagging feeling that I needed to try harder to make it happen, because whatever was going down was something that I needed to see. I knew that if I didn’t try everything I could, I would regret it. I had to close at work Saturday night, which means I had to be there around 3pm and work until 11:30pm. The gal that was scheduled to open on Sunday was still there when I arrived, so as she was getting ready to leave, I said “I need a favor...” and for some reason, I hesitated in asking her, like I didn’t really know what to say or how to say it, like the answer could actually change my life, so I just looked at her with a weird sideways smile, then finally asked if she could switch with me, so I come back and open Sunday morning instead of closing. She said she had to check with her family and see if they had plans, and she would get back to me. Thirty minutes after she left, she texted and said it was all good, that we could switch! From that point on, everything just snowballed. I had the biggest obstacle out of my way, so now to make the rest happen...

I went back and fourth about a ticket to the event. At first, I was like, “I’ll figure it out when I get down there,” like I usually do for most concerts I attend. I checked Stub Hub first, and was willing to pay whatever I needed to, but the only problem with that was because Coachella uses wristbands, not tickets, all bands had to be picked up in person. I called them to see what the latest pick up time was, and if anyone could pick up for me, and all other options I could think to exhaust, but it ended up not working out since I wasn’t going to get down there until much later. At that point, I was like “YOLO, I’ll find someone selling one outside!” But then I realized how late I was going to get there, and was like, “dude, if I don’t have a ticket by time I get there, no one is going to be hawking them; so I’m screwed!”

Then finally, I turned to the one place that scares me the most, Craigslist! I went through the posts, most were wristbands for Weekend 2, but I found one for Weekend 1, advertised for the cheapest I had seen any advertised, anywhere! I replied via text immediately, really not thinking I’d get a reply since the event was well underway and the wristband had probably already been sold. To my surprise, within minutes, the postee replied. I asked if it was still available, and he (I didn’t know if it was a he, she or other at the time) replied that yes, it was, but someone was supposed to pick it up later. But he also said that so many people had flaked already, that he wasn’t counting on it. After confirming it was a Weekend 1 wristband, I told him that I wanted it, 100%, guaranteed! The only problem was that he had advertised it from San Francisco and I was across the Bay, and I wouldn’t be able to pick it up until after midnight. He then replied that he was actually in Oakland, which happened to be the city right next to me! I couldn’t believe it! Aaaaand, it was only $200, which happened to be the EXACT amount of money I had in my wallet, and usually I don’t carry any cash at all! I let the mid shift manager know that I had to step out to make a miracle happen!

I’m not going to lie, I was like, “what if it’s a serial killer?!” “What if it’s a ploy to rob me?!” “Am I going to die?!” So I shared the address with the other manager in case the cops needed to know where to find my body. Two associates hugged me in case they never saw me again, and I was on my way. I texted the other manager when I got to the pick up spot, but I didn’t see her reply immediately, so I didn’t reply right away. She was worried that the “Craigslist murderer” kidnapped me and had been the one to text her that I was there safely, even though he had probably already cut me into pieces, just to throw off suspicion. 😂😂 😂 (we may or may not have seen too many SVUs or CSIs). All in all, it took less than 10 minutes to get there, less than 5 minutes for the exchange, and less than 10 minutes back. The course of my life changed in less than a lunch break! Now the second hurdle had been cleared.

I texted a few friends a picture of the Coachella box and they were all in semi-disbelief/not really surprised/kinda amazed/planning my *NSYNC junkie intervention. But they knew, if anyone was going on this adventure, it was me!

I had posted on Facebook trying to get someone to ride down to So Cal with me, so that I wasn’t traveling alone (I would have anyways, but company is always appreciated on long journeys). I was trying to talk my friends and fellow fans into winging it and coming along, but no bites. Finally, at about 9pm, one of my cousins replied and said she, her husband, and their baby girl were considering going down to Disney to join some of their family, and if I was still looking for some road dogs, they were in.

Schedule, check; wristband, check; road dogs, check. Everything was coming together.

I was home from work at 11:30pm, picked a few outfits, packed, showered, and was in bed by 2am. I met with my mom at 6:30am to exchange cars since hers was a little bit more current with the maintenance, and then I was back at work at 7am to get the building open and operating. The morning is still a blur. My fellow manager arrived at 11am, and I was out the doors by 11:30. I met my cousin and family at noon, and we were on our way. We got an hour into the drive and then the gas light came on. I was so excited that I had freaking forgot to get gas before we left! Like it never even crossed my mind. I had one mission, and I forgot all the steps I still needed to take to get there 😂. Luckily we were still close to civilization, so filling up happened, then we proceeded on the adventure of a lifetime. I think we only stopped a couple times for gas and a baby break on that six hour journey to our first stop. Let me tell you, my baby cousin is a true hero! That 5 month old was so well behaved, didn’t need a whole lot, and was just a little trooper. My cousin-in-law did a lot of the driving on the way down and I am so grateful for that, because it had already been a long day leading up to the trip, and it was going to be an even longer night...

We arrived in Anaheim around 6:15pm. They got checked in their room, my cousin-in-law took the car to fill up, while I got ready and prepped for the last two hour stretch of the trip.

I was officially en route to Coachella by 6:45pm. I remember eating very little all day because I just couldn’t, and I remember snacking on an apple and some goldfish during those last two hours to Coachella. (This is irrelevant but I’m throwing in all the deets I can recall).

I had never been anywhere near Coachella or Palm Springs, so I was really disoriented when I finally made it to that last highway before the getting to my destination. Traffic wasn’t horrible, but it was still quite a trek, so I was slowly getting anxiety with each passing minute. I followed directions directly to the fairgrounds, however, it was about 8:45pm at that point, and the streets were blocked a mile in every direction. I circled the area looking for anywhere to park, feeling helpless, I finally pulled over to ask someone what to do, and they informed me that parking had JUST shut down (at this point it was about 9pm). They suggested that I park at a shopping center and Uber in. I found a shopping center 3 miles away and requested an Uber. I was throwing things in my fanny pack trying to get it together because my Uber was on its way. The guy was only able to get me a mile and a half closer because of the street blockages, so I sped walked a mile and a half in, and started the winding path through the gates of Coachella.

I knew Ariana was scheduled to play at 10:30pm, and at this point it was probably 9:30pm, I was close enough, and I knew I would make it. I was no longer worried about making it in, but now I was having major anxiety and freaking out, and semi-crying at what might be happening in the next hour. There was a lot of talking to myself on that walk, the main message to myself was “BITCH BE COOL!” I knew it wouldn’t be a long line, since it was so late and the night was almost over. People were actually leaving as I was walking in and I’m thinking to myself, “don’t you people understand that *NSYNC is about to be on that stage?! Y’all are going to regret leaving early! I wonder how you are going to feel knowing you missed this when everyone would be talking about this in the morning!” But ya know what, not my problem. Their loss!

The walk into the festival felt just as long as the walk to the fairgrounds. It felt like miles of a fenced off path, which was made of dirt, but not just any dirt. The chunks of dirt were so huge, it was like walking on rocks. I was certain I was about to sprain my ankle, but I reminded myself that it would be worth it and the hospital would be there when it was over.

I made it through the gated path, nothing sprained, just a little sweat. I made it through security, and I was IN. I had absolutely no idea where I was going. I threw this trip together so last minute that I had no time to prep. I walked over to a tent covered stage. It was a big stage and I was like is this it?! I was looking for some sign labeling the stage or some list of set times, and found nothing. I asked around, the first two security people I asked were no help! One was so rude, he was like, “I don’t know, did you look at your map!” I’m thinking “mother f-er, don’t you think if I had a map I would know where the F I’m going, why would I waste my precious breath speaking to you?! I was like “dude, I JUST got here and there is no map and I need to know where the main stage is.” So his rude ass referred me to someone else who was nicer, but said that he didn’t know where the main stage was. I’m thinking “are you people kidding me?! How are you working the most popular festival known to mankind and you can’t tell me where the main stage is?!” A little panic started to set in. It was dark, it was getting late, her set was rapidly approaching, and I had no idea where I was going. So finally, I was referred to another guy, who actually pointed me in the right direction. He’s like “its all the way on the other side, past that tent, past the beer garden and you’ll see it.” The act that was on the stage I had first seen upon entrance had just started, and some people were running towards me to get to it, so I was going against traffic, but my destination was clear now. Once I had the stage in my sight, I stopped for a water. The girl selling those very reasonably priced water bottles (only 2 bucks! That was practically free in festival land) was like “I like your shirt” (an *NSYNC crop tee simply styled with *NSYNC across the chest. [PS I DON’T wear crop tops, but I figured, cuando en Coachella right?!]). And I simply asked, “this is the place right?” And she just enthusiastically nodded Yes. It was about to go down. I tried to locate a restroom, because I mean, I had just spent 2+ hours driving and chugging an energy drink and water, making no stops, but there were no restrooms in sight, and I was not about to walk back to the entrance where they were. I had done way too much just to get within eye shot of that stage, I figured, what’s a little pee in my pants?! It was probably gonna happen upon seeing *NSYNC for the first time in 17 years anyways! (PSS I didn’t actually pee my pants. I think my whole body had shut down at the point because nothing more was going to get in my way).

I kinda of walked back and fourth across the field, I walked all the way down the right side. I had one friend there already, but trying to get in contact with anyone in that mass of people was impossible. It was hard to tell where a good spot would be, because a lot of people were sitting down, so getting an accurate read was not happening. I knew just being there was all I needed, regardless of what I could or couldn’t see, but I really did want to see SOMETHING. My brain was all over the place, I was like “I could just start pushing through people. I could go all the way up front but all the way to the side,” the options were limitless. I ultimately didn’t want to cause any drama by pushing through people, I didn’t want a harsh angle of the stage, so I figured if I was semi central I would at least catch a glimpse of whatever was going down, no matter how far back I was standing. I couldn’t actually get centered because the sound and lighting booth was to my left and the people were too packed in to get through any further, not to mention there was a fenced off area in the middle for VIPs. (In fact, that’s where Billie Eilish and Justin Bieber were meeting. I remember seeing the crowd directly around that spot all holding up their lights and phones. I heard rumblings that it was Bieber, but I could not possibly care less, I’m not a fan [again, another irrelevant point, but it’s part of my memory, so whatevs!]) I settled on my spot and reminded myself that being there was enough. I’ve also done enough GA shows to know that when the show starts, people push in and up, so that was going to be my game plan.

By this time, it was probably about 10pm, and I only had thirty minutes to go! I was calm and quiet, because the ONLY thing I wanted in life might actually be happening, and I was there, I was a part of it. Ariana might have been a few minutes behind schedule, and I had no clue when the song I was waiting for would be coming, so I stayed calm and waited for it. It was the fourth song in, and when I heard the first cords to “Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored” I immediately started crying, and my camera went up in the air. If *NSYNC was actually going to be there, this was the song. This was my entire trip, the whole saga, coming to its peak, my dreams potentially coming true, 17 years of waiting. This was it!

I honestly couldn’t see much, and I didn’t even see them walk on the stage. This was either going to be the greatest moment of my life, or the biggest disappointment I’ve ever experienced. When the song came to a pause, and she looked over her shoulder, and then uttered the words I’d waited so long to hear again, I lost my whole ass mind. “Ladies and Gentlemen, *NSYNC!” I basically blacked out at that moment, and I only remember bits and pieces. I know I still couldn’t see, but what glimpse I did catch, I really only saw JC at first and I was like “is it just him?” And for a tenth of a second, I was thoroughly confused, but still getting my life and losing my ever loving mind! My eyes darted around, and I finally caught a glimpse of everyone else. (I also still didn’t know if Justin was there or not, because I knew it was physically possible that he be there, albeit, highly unlikely. Honestly, I’ll always love Justin, even though I can’t stand him much of the time, and I did secretly hope he would have made it to this, but I was perfectly fine with the fact that he ultimately wasn’t there). I didn’t know what my camera was recording, and I didn’t care, because this moment was everything. When the song ended, I stopped recording, because that was it...or so I thought. I had never even imagined that there would be more and I was so content with them just singing “It Makes Me Ill.” I didn’t have any time to process because immediately after that ended, “Tearin Up My Heart” started and my blackout went even darker. I managed to get my phone recording again, I still couldn’t see a thing, but it didn’t matter. What I do remember was the people right in front of me, looking back at me, and staring. I still have no idea why, because it could have been my screaming, it’s possible it was my singing, it might have been me sobbing, I may have even bumped them while jumping around. I was not aware of anything I was physically doing. I do remember Ari in the middle hitting that choreography so hard, and when Joey yelled “Let me see you jump!” I think that’s when I snapped back in to reality and I started processing things again. I went even harder with the dancing, singing and jumping, because it was one of those moments when I found myself actively living in the moment, and I wanted to live it the best I could. I’ve probably never smiled that huge in my life. As the song wound down, I stayed recording just in case more was coming (not that I needed anything else, because my life was complete in that moment), so I have them thanking the crowd and Ariana and that was a perfect way to wrap up that video.

Once they cleared the stage, I had to catch my breath, gather myself, and keep

from crumbling to the floor. I remember leaning over with my hands on my knees, trying to get my vision and hearing back. Attempting to process anything that had just happened. I had had a brief exchange with the guy next to me before Ari hit the stage and I was like “I’m here for *NSYNC” and I showed him my shirt. While I was trying to compose myself, he put his hands on my shoulders and was just like “OH MY GOD!” I think that was the general consensus of the crowd, because it was that epic. I stayed for her whole set, and appreciated everything she brought to the stage, but nothing would top *NSYNC. It was one of those show stopping, jaw dropping moments that could never be duplicated.

Because cell service had been so bad during the show, I just put my phone on airplane mode, as to not drain the battery, and I honestly, didn’t give a crap about the outside world. Not a lot of people knew I was going, and I didn’t want to jinx anything, so I kept the details of the trip very quiet, with the exception of a few friends I had texted or messaged directly. So once all was sang and done, I turned airplane off, only to be blasted with texts from friends who knew I was there, checking to see if I was still alive. Because I hadn’t replied immediately, a few of them thought I was dead in the dirt in the desert 😂😂😂😂.

The crowd was clearing out, and I was trying to coordinate a meet up with a friend of mine who scored a wristband earlier that same day. She was the only person I knew there, and I’m so glad I had someone to squeeze after the greatest moment of my life! We went to good ol’ Denny’s to hang out and further bask in the glory of the evening! We had mutual friends, and were pals on social media, but never had the chance to hang out together, so it was great to catch up and squeal about what we witnessed!

Finally, around 2am, I headed out of Indio, and I was on my way home. Yes, this trip was a down and back adventure. I knew it would be brutal, but I knew that it would be worth it. I drove about 3 hours up, and stopped to nap in the car, for what was supposed to be a 30 minute cat nap, but turned into a couple hours 😂. I was on a time crunch because I was due to be back at work at 11am. I got back on the road at 5am and the journey continued. I had exhausted so much energy at the show, that the last five hours of the drive home were harsh! I had to stop several times to stretch and keep my blood flowing, and at one point I knew I wasn’t going to make it to work on time, so I let my manager know. She knew I had gone, and knew I was insane, and was shocked I was still driving home, so she was cool with me coming in an hour or so late 🙏🏻. I made it home to shower and change, then made it to work for another nine hours. Although I was exhausted, I had the comfort of knowing that I had just experienced one of my top two moments in life (the other being the Star Ceremony) and the smile never left my face.

The entire adventure officially lasted less than 48 hours. I’m still amazed that everything went down the way that it did. I’m a strong believer in “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” And this was just another example of that being true for me, and especially when it comes to *NSYNC. I have experienced so many cool things and have countless memories thanks to those guys, and this moment will go down as one of the greatest!

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

Text

Have you ever had a computer virus before? Not with any of my Apple laptops, which I’ve been getting for over 10 years now. Prior to that, I did have a few issues with viruses. Not fun.

Are you dependent upon anyone? >> Of course. Everyone’s dependent on someone, even if only indirectly. <<< True. I’m also very dependent upon my family, especially my mom.

Are there any book characters you’d like to portray? Uh, I don’t want to portray any character. I’m definitely no actor.

Who did you last text? My dad.

Is there anything on your bed right now? Yeah, several pillows, my bedsheets, my throw blanket, a few stuffed animals, a coloring book, a couple sets of colored pencils, two little pencil sharpeners, a little notebook, a book, an Nintendo Switch, my laptop, my phone, the chargers for aforementioned electronics... lol my bed is also my desk since I spend majority of my time in bed.

When was the last time you went to the grocery store? Back in early March. Prior to this quarantine/lockdown, I went with my mom twice a month. Since all that began, she’s just been going. We’ve been using the online order thing. What way would you like to die when it’s your time? Peacefully.

What are you most afraid of in the world? Death, diseases, violence, losing loved ones... Have you ever been caving? No.

Do you do well in math related things? Noooo. Me and math never got along.

What is your favorite fruit? Bananas.

If you had to choose, which sibling would you live with? My younger brother and I already live in the same house.

Do you have any tattoos? Nope.

Are you planning on getting any in the near future? No.

When was your last date? Four years ago.

When did you get Facebook? Sometime in 2008.

What was your first pet’s name? Buster.

Are you good when it comes to computer issues? Uhh, depends what the issue is. If it involves the hardware itself then no.

Are there any people at your job who absolutely hates you? No job.

What was the last book you read? Don’t Tell by Willow Rose. I’m just starting, The Girl and the Hunt by AJ Rivers, which is the 6th book in a series.

Have you ever read any books in one day? Yeah, several.

What was the last thing you bought? A couple shirts and masks from Young and Reckless. The masks are black and say, “Keep your distance.” The shirts are black and say that as well in tiny font on the upper right side and on the back it says, “Thank you for staying away” in big font. I got one for my mom as well because it seemed like the perfect shirt for her to wear to work lol.

What are your plans for tomorrow? Nothing out of the ordinary.

Is there any jewelry you wear constantly? Nope.

Are your fingernails painted at the moment? Nope.

Do you prefer cool, warm or neutral colors? >> I like a variety of colours for different reasons. <<<

Have you ever taken art classes? Just an art history class in college.

What’s the most boring movie you’ve ever seen? Hmm. I’m blanking. Do you know how to work a cash register? I’ve never used one.

Fact or fiction novels? I’m more of a fiction gal.

Have you ever suffered from depression? Yeah, it’s been an ongoing battle for as long as I can remember, but these past few years have most definitely been the worst. Depression won.

Do you think you’re a clingy person? I can be when it comes to my mom.

Do you enjoy kisses on the cheek? Uhh depending on who it’s from.

Have you ever been in a physical fight before? No.

How often would you say you disagree with your parents? We definitely have our disagreements, but I don’t know how often I’d say they are. A lot of them are about the same things.

What color shirt did you wear yesterday? >> Black.

Do you have a job? If so, do you like it? Nope.

Have you ever been called a slut before? I’ve had friends say it as a joke.

What’s something you’ve been craving? A day at the beach. D:

Have you ever slept with your window open? Yeah.

Can you play violin? I took lessons in 4th grade, but I didn’t enjoy it. Just wasn’t my thing. I stuck it out for the whole year, though.

What was the last desert you had? Brownies.

Have you ever had a wild animal as a pet? No.

Do you know anyone you talk to on Facebook but won’t talk to in person? No.

What color are your mother’s eyes? Brown.

Do you have a best friend? If so, how long have you been best friends? All 30 years of my life.

Do you cry easily? Yeah. Somedays I’m just on the verge of tears all day and anything can set it off.

Have you ever been into a court room? I think during a field trip in elementary school.

How many necklaces would you say you own? Hmm. Maybe five.

Do you plan on being strict towards your children? I plan on not having children. I’m going to be 31 soon and feel strongly about not having children and I just don’t see something super drastic happening that makes me change my mind. But I’d be even older if something drastic did happen, so probably not even then. I’m meant to have doggos. (:

Do you own any tie-dye shirts? Yeah, a few.

What would you say is your favorite day of the week? They’re all the same for me, really.

Do you ever wear lipstick? I haven’t in a long time.

Do you own a pool? Nope.

Do you have a Tumblr account? Never heard of it.

Would you say you’re overweight? No. I’m actually too underweight.

How many colors are in your hair? Well, it’s mostly red, but my roots are starting to grow out. It’s not too bad, yet.

Do you flirt with a lot of people? I’m not a flirtatious person in general. If I flirt, it’s with someone I’m interested in and have been talking to. I don’t flirt with everyone or with people I don’t know.

How many bank accounts do you have? Just one.

Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Yes.

How old are you? 30.

Do you attend church regularly? Not physically, but a local church uploads their service every Sunday to watch or listen to and I’ve been watching that even before the lockdown/quarantine. Since then, they’ve been live streaming since they can’t meet in person.

Have you ever found a song that describes your whole life? There’s a lot of songs where the lyrics just speak to me as they say and I really relate to them.

What time did you wake up this morning? I haven’t gone to bed, yet, but I assume I’ll get up sometime between 1 and 3 since that’s how it’s been the past few months.

What time do you plan on waking up tomorrow morning? ^^^

What kind of car do you drive? I don’t drive.

What kind of car would you like to have? Not something I’ve given much thought.

Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? If so, what’s your favorite thing to eat from there? Not since I was a kid. I remember liking the blizzard things.

How old did you turn on your last birthday? This is just another way of asking how old I am, which you already asked me.

Ever felt like falling apart? Oh yes. I’ve felt like I’ve fallen apart and like I’m going to fall apart, just barely hanging on. I’m always just trying to keep it together. I’m like Humpty Dumpty who couldn’t quite be put back together again.

Have you ever been in an ambulance? Yes.

Do you tend to worry a lot? Yepppp.

How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Like 6, I think.

Do you remember your first time on the internet? It was when I was 9 or 10.

Which website do you email from? Yahoo.

Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Sure. I love getting them myself when on vacation and I’d certainly appreciate if someone brought me something from theirs.

Do you get angry with people easily? Not angry, but irritated and frustrated.

Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? I feel like I’m just not even on the radar for most people.

Have you ever had the flu? Yes.

What about strep throat? Yes. It’s been a longggg time, though.

Have you ever been to a psychologist? No, but I need to.

What’s the worst part about school? For me it was that I just got so overwhelmed and stressed out so easily.

Do you normally have a lot of homework, if you’re still in school?

When was your last vacation? Back in early February. I can’t believe that even happened this year because quarantine/lockdown has felt like 84 years.

Would you ever consider going on a cruise? I’ve thought about it and they do sound fun, but... I don’t think I could.

What did you last buy from the store? A few Starbucks Doubleshot energy drinks.

Would you say you enjoy being single or in a relationship more? All I really know is being single, so I can’t really say for sure. I do miss being interested in someone and talking to someone in that way, though, and the very little experience I do have with dating. It’s best for me to be single, though.

Do you try to stay busy a lot? I spend my days with my usual go-to distractions. I wouldn’t call that keeping busy, though. I don’t feel like spending all day on various social media platforms, watching YouTube and TV, reading, playing Animal Crossing, and lounging is “busy” if that makes sense. I think of productivity when I think about keeping busy. To me the things I do are just distractions and things to pass the time. Just something to do, ya know? *shrug*

What’s your favorite quote? “Blah.” ha.

Do you lie a lot? I’d be lying if I said I never lie, but I’m not a pathological liar.

Do you still act childish most of the time? I sure can be stubborn, moody, and whiny like one.

Did you ever enjoy gym class? Nope.

What is your biggest insecurity? I have a lot of insecurities.

Have you ever painted a room alone? Nope. Or at all.

Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? Never.

What’s for dinner tonight? I don’t know, it’s only 3 in the morning.

Do you ever drink alcohol? Nope.

Have you ever had a terrible hangover? Ugh, yes.

Do you ever get migraines? No, but I get terrible tension headaches.

Do you know how to garden? I don’t do any gardening. Not my thing.

What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? The egg cooker thing to make hard boiled eggs.

Do people consider you to be a funny person? I have my moments.

Do you have any bad habits? Oh do I ever.

Do you like children? If not, why is this? Sure, in small doses. haha.

What is your favorite snack? Deviled eggs. Super random, but they make a delicious snack.

Do you own any gaming systems? I have a Nintendo Switch. I use my brother’s PS4 to access stuff like Netflix or watch DVDs in the living room.

How old were your parents when they had you? Early and mid 20s.

Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? There’s no such person, currently.

Do you trashtalk people a lot? Nah, just myself.

What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? TikTok has been pretty amusing.

Does the future excite you or scare you? It terrifies me.

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? No.

Do you try to spend a lot of time with family? I spend a lot of time with my immediate family. We’re very close, but we also live together so we’re able to do so. I don’t see my extended family very often, and not at all since the quarantine/lockdown.

How often do you shower? Every couple of days.

What would you say is your favorite genre of music? I like a variety of music.

Do you need to clean your bedroom? It could use a little straightening up.

What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I don’t know. I don’t want to keep going on like I have been the past few years...

Do you enjoy Chinese food? I like some. I haven’t had any in quite awhile, though. I’ve actually been really wanting potstickers.

Do you smile a lot? *shrug* I give a lot of half smiles.

What is your favorite movie from the nineties? That’s tough. I love a lot about the 90s.

Which decade were you born in? The 80s, albeit halfway through the last year of the decade.

Are you good at giving advice to people? I think I used to be. Not now.

How many huge secrets do you have? Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I have a lot. Maybe I have none. Like the Tootsie Pop owl says, “the world may never know.” Oooh, I’m so ~mysterious.

How many people know these secrets?

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once.

Do you ever floss? Once in awhile, but no not usually.

Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? No.

Ever considered suicide? If so, did you try to commit suicide? Yes. No. Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? No, I do that to myself.

Do you like texting or calling people more? Text. I don’t like talking on the phone. I don’t a lot of texting either, though.

What’s your favorite band? Linkin Park will always be one of them.

Do you have a lot of friends? I don’t have any friends.

Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? I don’t paint.

Would you rather go out to eat or stay in? Oh, I’m not going out to eat anywhere anytime soon. I don’t care if dine in is slowly becoming an option again. Things are starting to open up again in phases, but please don’t mistake that to mean we’re in the clear and it’s perfectly safe to do so. We’re still very much in the midst of this pandemic. Please don’t be lax about your outings or start going all over the place.

When did you last babysit, if ever? Not since my brother and a couple of my cousins were kids. They’re all adults now.

Do you have any younger siblings? Yep, just mentioned my younger brother.

Have you ever thought of someone as useless? I don’t think of others that way, just myself.

Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? Yes and I do.

Do you drink vitamin water? I was super into Vitamin Water back when I was in high school. I haven’t had any in quite a long time.

Do you ever straighten your hair? It’s been a few years since I’ve straightened it myself, but when I go to get my hair done the lady who does my hair straightens it.

What’s the best way to end a conversation? Uhhh it depends?

Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Yeah, there’s several.

Have you ever had a Big Mac before? Many times. I’ll get a craving for one every now and then.

Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? Haaaaa no, not at all.

Where is your favorite place to travel? Beachy places.

What is your goal for the next few months? Getting through the summer somehow. Next week we’re having a few triple digit weather days.... it’s not even summer, yet. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I can’t even escape to the beach this summer. D:

Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? Sí, en Español.

Do you own a lot of shoes? A few pairs.

What is your favorite season and why? Fall and winter. I just love everything about it--the cold weather, the holidays, the smells, the decor, and just the coziness of it.

Does photography interest you at all? >> Not really. I like looking at photographs other people have taken, though. <<< Yeah, it interests me in that way but I don’t have any interest in taking up photography myself.

Have you ever played on a sports team before? If you have, what was that sport and when? Nope.

Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No.

Do you think you’re a good singer? Nope, I know I’m not. Doesn’t mean I don’t do it anyway at home to myself, though.

Would you rather wear jeans or sweatpants? I’ve only been wearing leggings the past few years.

Do you think you have a good sense of style? I like what I wear, which is all that matters.

Do you enjoy reading often? Yes, I love reading.

Ever had food-poisoning before? Yes. Not fun.

Where did you last eat dinner at? We got Wingstop takeout last night if that counts. I haven’t physically been out to eat in months, though.

Have you ever shot a gun before? Yes, once. I went to a shooting range with friends and learned how to hold and shoot one. I don’t know what type it was exactly, but it was a small handheld. It actually made me quite anxious doing so and even just being in that environment, so yeah it was just that one time.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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runesrule · 5 years

Text

In defense of ‘selfie-culture’

So, I have this friend.

He’s a dude.

He’s a cowboy. We don’t talk about his opinions about trans-folk (beyond the scientific articles I post under his Facebook status’ summarised as ‘men are men and women are women’), because if we did we wouldn’t be friends anymore.

It’s a weird situation.

I kind of walk this line between liberal and conservative, living where I do and working in the industry I do, because I like my work, and if I were as loudly liberal as I occasionally want to be, I would never get a job again. It’s a small world, word travels. Ask me about dodging ‘gal pals or lovers’ questions after a traumatic breakup if you ever want a soap-opera story.

Anyway, my friend.

He said something the other day that really bugged me, and it’s kind of stuck with me. It’s about selfie-culture. As a person with an interest in history, I actually think selfie-culture is cool as hell. Imagine if we had selfies from Shakespeare and Joan of Arc and Sylvia Plath for crying out loud.

There’s a poem that I’ve found a couple of conflicting sources for, so forgive me, and it starts with ‘Your generation would probably live-tweet the apocalypse’. It’s a defence of social media that I really enjoy, and it has a lot to do with why I (to some extent) support selfie-culture. In this world where there’s a million-billion dollar industry dedicated to making people feel like crap about themselves, self-love is an act of rebellion. Do I wish more people felt comfortable to upload no-make-up, double-chinned, pimpled, crows-feet-and-all, bad lighting, bad angle, love-handles showing selfies? Yeah, obviously. Do I think there’s a certain level of fakery to the majority of selfies people put on Instagram? Duh! As previously mentioned, there’s a whole damn universe of advertising and media saturation telling people they should be skinnier, fitter, happier, richer, more successful, blah, blah, blah.

Speaking for myself, I feel more real in the pictures I take of myself. Do I take twenty-five and carefully examine every line and shadow of all twenty-five before choosing the one I put up? Yeah, duh. So sue me; I like to feel good about myself. And that’s kind of the bottom line. If a person can snap a shot of themselves where they like the lighting, where they’re in a place where they’re having fun, on the way to a date, or whatever it might be, as long as they feel good about themselves, who the hell are we to judge them for it?

Maybe we should bring back asking strangers to take our picture, but (again, speaking personally) there’s something a little forced about those kinds of photos. We start thinking about what the person behind the camera is seeing, all those little imperfections that we can’t control. In the context of today’s society, I like the idea of taking back control of how I am seen, in some small way.

I’m a big fan of candid photos. I’ve taken beautiful photos of friends and family when they don’t know I’m taking them, and at the end of the day, they are my favourite shots in the world to see on Instagram. They’re the moments I like to imagine future cyber archaeologists and anthropologists staring at in wonder, imagining what life was like for their ancestors the same way I’ve stared at portraits in the London Museum. And yes, most of those ‘candid’ moments aren’t half as spontaneous as the subject would have us believe. But does it take away the feeling of unselfconsciousness in those kinds of shots? Realistically, is a fake candid photo any different from the Mona Lisa? You know we’re not seeing what the real Mona Lisa was actually like, we’re seeing her through Leonardo’s eyes. With selfie-culture, we’re getting the privilege of seeing that person through their own eyes. Occasionally, it’s an oversaturated, filtered version. Less self-portrait, more self-insert fanfiction. In that case, how about addressing the wider culture of bullying, dieting and unattainable beauty standards, instead of attacking girls in the dog filter on Snapchat?

Call it vanity if you like, but it’s estimated that today more photos are taken in ten minutes than the entirety of the 1800s (fstoppers.com). Trillions of photos are taken every day. Billions of people snap a moment, a memory, every hour and immortalise it online, in the cloud.

I have a locket with a portrait of my grandmother and her university boyfriend inside it. I have dozens of pictures of my brother who passed away, and hundreds of my friends and parents and young brothers. I have a selfie from the week after I got my heart shattered into a million pieces by the woman I thought I was going to marry, and I have one sitting in the airport alone going home to Australia in the aftermath of that break-up. Those moments are so fucking significant because there was nobody else there, it was just me. It was just me and my phone and when I look at those pictures, I can see the shadow in my eyes, the redness around my nose from blowing it. I also have a selfie I took the day I realised I didn’t need to be a university graduate to follow my dreams, and one standing on the beach with the sun setting in the background the moment I knew I was going to be okay after my grandfather passed away.

Nobody else took those photos and despite the fact I shared all these images online, there is a significant part of them that belongs to me alone, and a lot of that has to do with the fact that I took them.

Let’s fight the disease, not the symptom. In and of itself, there’s nothing wrong with people taking photos of themselves. There is something seriously wrong with industries that prey on young people’s insecurities.

#chevy speaks #selfie culture #intersectional feminism #media #diet culture #photography #glbtq #life lessons #love #australia #Millennials #blog #social issues #social justice #consumerism

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crabstreet · 5 years

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I’d kept hermit crabs for roughly a year and a half prior to discovering the CSJ site, and – like many others – assumed I’d been properly caring for them, negating the need to further research their requirements…or anything about them, really. One doesn’t exactly discover troves of books dedicated to hermit crabs the way one discovers the same in regards to dogs, cats, birds, or any of the other, more typical household pets. Subsequently, one simply decides that not much must be known about them (or that what is known is too boring and/or limited to bear repeating in guide after guide), and so one makes do with the information provided by pet store employees. While I don’t recall the exact thing that led to my first Google search about them, I do recall that it was diet-related, as I became interested in offering foods other than the pre-packaged pet store fare. During the course of this search, I came upon the CSJ site and decided to poke around. I was quickly struck not only by the quantity of information present, but also its quality. In addition to locating more than I ever bargained for, or could have imagined I’d find, regarding food options – and nutritional needs in general – I found information on so many other factors involved in the crabs’ care: Substrate. Tank size. Heating options. Molting. Illness. And……..science. A college professor by trade, I’m not one to be convinced of something, especially animal-care-related somethings, unless there is appropriate back-up research involved. I found such evidence throughout the CSJ site (man, those hermit crab books and pet store employees were way off…), and it convinced me that the folks in charge here must be awfully invested in correct hermit crab care. Why else would the site be so thorough? Contain information proven through included research? Contain an option for receiving assistance in the event of an emergency? Contain a marketplace, where select food items could be purchased for unbeatable prices? I was sold. And encouraged. I did a bit of additional, outside research, found information from trustworthy sources that corroborated CSJ’s, and set about making changes to my own crabs’ set-up. CSJ opened the door not only to new knowledge, but to the fact that such knowledge actually exists and is freely available. It also opened the door to a desire to learn more, and to maybe even mingle online with others like myself: crab owners dedicated to giving their crustaceous kiddos the best life possible.

Fast-forward to a year-plus later, and I’ve continued to make regular use of the CSJ site. I’ve also, as a result of joining its affiliated (LHCOS) group on Facebook, discovered not just folks I enjoy interacting with in a general sense; I’ve found new friends…a new tribe, if you will…some of whom I had the pleasure of meeting in-person at the first-ever CrabCon in July of 2019, an event that allowed this truly-introverted gal to come out of her shell (come on; you knew such a reference was imminent). It was a surreal experience that continues to sit strongly in my memory, and it offered additional options for camaraderie and a sense of community/belonging. But, I digress.

On September 22nd, 2019, I awoke to find one of my small crabs on top of the substrate, shell-less and missing all limbs with the exception of two walking legs, one of which was injured. He was a pathetic sight at best, and though I did not have high hopes for his survival (he had, I assume, been assaulted under the substrate while molting), I plopped him into an iso container with a few shells of appropriate size, as his was nowhere to be found. It took him a couple hours to choose one, and when he did, he picked a green turbo that was clearly too small. This concerned me, but I was more relieved that he was at least strong enough, and possessed enough of a will to survive, to put on some pants. I posted a photo of him in his sad state to my personal Facebook page, and – not surprisingly – my CSJ friends were quick to weigh in with support and suggestions. When it became readily-apparent after a day or two that the crab truly wanted to live (he was moving, eating, and drinking, although the latter two activities involved my being hands-on with him, as he was missing both claws), I began regularly communicating with various CSJ administrators and moderators. I’d never been in this situation with a crab before, and obviously I was interested in ensuring this one’s survival. I knew the basics for caring for an incapacitated, limbless crab – thanks to the CSJ site – but I desired more specific assistance, and the aforementioned admins and mods were not only quick to advise, but pleasant, genuinely-helpful, and personally-interested, and invested, in this little crab’s well-being. The ever-lovely and thoughtful Mary Akers even mailed a care package that included nutrient-dense food appropriate for a clawless, recuperating crab. This is the level of commitment these people demonstrate…not just for the crabs themselves (in a collective sense), but also for each other and for those of us in the LHCOS group who demonstrate a willingness to learn and to do right by our hermits and by each other, as friends. I was – and continue to be – blown away by the support, and kindnesses, shown.

As a result of these wonderful folks’ efforts, which guided my own, my incapacitated crab, who has since come to be named William Robert (‘William’ because of his will to live, and ‘Robert’ thanks to a former student-turned-friend who regularly checked in by asking how ‘Bob the Crab’ was doing), successfully molted into wholeness in the overnight hours of October 12th, 2019. Two days later – and only 20 days after I found him lying helpless, naked, and nearly limbless in his tank – he continues to harden. I imagine it’s only a matter of time before I discover him picking away at the remains of his ordeal, in the form of his old exoskeleton, with the brand-new claws that he regrew under the watchful eyes of his many CSJ/LHCOS friends and advocates. Much love, and many thanks, to you all.

Sherri Werdebaugh

(Scroll for a series of photos, from the day I found him to the day he molted. )

#gallery-0-5 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-5 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

William Robert out of his shell and missing all but two legs

William Robert, the hermit crab, clings to Sherri’s finger with his two remaining legs for a hand fed meal

William Robert eating well right from Sherri’s hand

William Robert looking good

William Robert has begun to grow all new limbs

William Robert’s new limbs are turning orange, signalling he is ready for his recovery molt.

William Robert has molted again and his new limbs are intact but a bit smaller than they should be. One more molt will bring them to full size.

Sherri W. I’d kept hermit crabs for roughly a year and a half prior to discovering the CSJ site, and – like many others – assumed I’d been properly caring for them, negating the need to further research their requirements…or anything about them, really.

#hermit crab #testimonial

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damgirlsocial · 5 years

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Come fly with me ...

My journey back to work has been a bit up and down, like all ‘journeys’ (how much do we all love that metaphor but hey it’s the one we all use) but mine started over 10 years ago when me and my amazing husband desperately wanted to start a family. Now this might not seem like the forum for talking about procreation and starting my business (although I can see some kind of analogy here), but you know what having been to a talk where the amazing Debbiedoodah presented her thoughts on being true to yourself (which resonated with me) I decided that this is my path, my reasoning and I’m not going to make something up that I think people want to hear. I’m going to be true to myself, my brand and where it takes me who knows but I’m unashamed of my reasoning. It’s actually one of the reasons behind my brand name ‘DAM Girl Social’. There are other reasons to do with some amazing women I’ve met along the way, but I’ll come to that in a bit.

So, let’s start somewhere way back when, when I was a little less grey, had a bit more energy (think late night karaoke and oodles of shots) and a full-time job as a Marketing Manager. As I mentioned I had hit a time of life where a family was increasingly more important however, that wasn’t meant to be as straight forward as I’d anticipated and so found myself in a situation whereby, I was all consumed by having a baby. Now this is another story altogether but it’s fair to say that my 3 year struggle emotionally and physically meant that when I was lucky enough to have a baby I was in no rush to rush back to the workplace and we took the decision that I would take time out and concentrate on being a mum to our two amazing boys. Okay, so I had a tricky start (it has stayed with me believe me but I am fully aware of how lucky I am), and having two boisterous boys has its own challenges but by enlarge having that time off has been amazing, exhausting, thrilling, confidence debilitating, exciting and challenging all in one package of motherhood (did I mention life was a roller coaster?). Once school life kicked in, I realised my boys needed me a wee bit less (well between 9 and 3.30 at least) and I needed something for me, to help build up my confidence again. I have been extremely involved in helping the school over the last 3.5 years, bringing in funds of £55k+ through events I ran alongside my co-chair (now we would definitely make a good business partnership), and before that a short stint at Governance at another school my first son started at, but the time had come to do something for me and my family.

What is it about having kids that knocks your confidence though? This is a blog that needs addressing all on its own. But it’s true though, we start off as strong, professional women have a kid or two or three or more and suddenly we don’t seem to know our worth.

Still with me? Okay, so last year I decided to embark on my own ‘getting back to work self-motivation program’. First stop was a 3 day ‘Back to Work’ course with Successful Mums where I got the chance to meet the motivated and inspirational Jane Knight who is all about helping women, especially mums, find their mojo and while they’re at it pop a crown on our heads and stand tall. To be honest it’s not really my bag and for those who know me well will probably realise that I struggled with this particular concept but I have since taken it on board (you can even find a pic on my Insta) and I’m walking a bit taller with a straighter invisible crown these days. As I’ve said before #thismumcan and is! Anyway, by taking the course I identified a gap in my CV – Social Media Marketing! It was taking off as I took off 10 years ago, and so I missed the whole transformation of business with all things Social. And for any advert looking for Marketing roles it was apparent you need to know this Social stuff.

This takes me neatly onto the ‘Techpixies’ Social Media Marketing course created by the amazing Joy Foster and delivered by the funny, fabulous Sophie and Jess, and the warm and lovely Theresa too (awesome business coach btw, can’t recommend her highly enough)! With my fellow ‘Pixies we embarked on an 8 week course covering most things Social. I met a great bunch of women a couple of whom I’ve stayed in touch with and who have helped shape the name. I’m hoping to have a collaboration with them soon and kick start a new FaceBook community but that’s still very much in the brewing stage.

Okay so I did the course and my confidence inflated a bit, not loads but a lot more than that first day we all introduced ourselves around the table. I was able to apply some of my learning to my friend’s Insta and after a bit of research, some strategy, a presentation, and finally some brave pants posting, things started to move in the right direction. Insta followers increased steadily and has now hit a 120% increase from when I first took it over, and the all-important new clients and collabs have emerged along the way too. So, I knew I could do it, and my confidence inflated a little bit more. I dared to believe I could forge this new skillset into some work that I could fit around my boys. Which after all is my reason for doing all this. Remember way back when in the beginning of this ever increasing blog, I mentioned the struggle to start a family, and how that that has stayed with me, well being there for my wee ones has been my priority throughout. I’m after a work/life balance on my terms and freelancing in social media marketing is providing that opportunity.

Ha! This is all sounding very confident. Don’t be fooled though, Imposter Syndrome is fully functioning and likes to kick my confident butt on a regular basis. You know the ‘who do you think you are starting your own business, what do you know?’ type narrative. But even in the face of this self-doubt I found a course that has helped, and I’m going to be frank, boot me royally up the backside and out of any indecision, procrastination, and totally out of my comfort zone. Its once again with the fabulous Successful Mums, this time on their ‘Business Start Up and Digital Skills Course’ and it’s fair to say I have learned LOADS! I have also moaned loads. Why? Because I was disgruntled at the amount of work, I was having to do in my own time that I hadn’t banked on. But then the realisation kicked in, you know some kind of epiphany that I wasn’t doing this for the course tutor, or Successful Mums, I was doing it for MY business. Even this blog is because I’m being nudged to get it done. For 5 weeks I’ve been thinking, yeah yeah I’ll write something, I’ll do a blog…, but look at me now I’m on a roll and you can’t stop the verbal bullshit! (Don’t worry it’ll all be over soon 😉). The point? Oh yes, so I’m being encouraged to keep at it; get the work done, do the business plan, the financial forecast, the GDPR policy, create my brand and marketing strategy in real terms. Not hearing how to do it and then going off and doing it down the line, actually starting my business as part of the course. It’s made me take the leap. Climb out of the warmth of the nest, teeter on the edge and then just f’ing fly, because ‘DAM GIRL’ you need to believe in yourself.

‘DAM’ by the way, since you ask, stands for ‘Decidedly Average Mum’. I, in no way, think I’m just average but in a social landscape of ‘mumpreneurs’ who frankly make us doubt ourselves (even when it’s not intentional), and 6 figure salaries we’re supposed to be aspiring too, or that we must be able to work, look stunning, get the kids to school yadayadayada means, I think, that there’s a gap for us more ‘average’ types. I’m hoping that you see this as a refreshing take on this venture back to work. I had a couple of babies, so what? But I hit a low in confidence and I think it’s worth talking about, so having a brand that says: ‘I’m an average mum like you, just trying to get back to work and fit it around my family, it can be a bit hard, it can be a bit shit at times, but its feeling kind of good with each day my confidence builds, and if I can do it then you most definitely can too!’

So, this might not be your average ‘starting your own’ business blog. In fact, some might say (and be right) that its maybe altogether too honest but its who I am; I know, that by working with me you get a hardworking 110% kinda gal who will ALWAYS do her best by you. Its who I am, and who I’ll always be.

We can all be ‘DAM’ Good, so give me a shout I’d love to hear how I can help you xoxo

#flexibleworking

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freshlyjuicedbeetles · 6 years

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Drakgo Fic - Gap

Drakken feels weird about how much older he is than Shego when meeting her friends.

Drew Theodore P. Lipsky AKA the infamous Dr. Drakken had overcome many obstacles in his life. He fought Kim Possible more times than he could count (and he could count pretty high). He managed to evade punishment for his many dastardly deeds in the past. Even when he was captured, prison wasn’t that bad; a Hannibal Lecter-esque high tech cell that sounded alarms every time his back popped is quite cozy once you get used to the electronic hum. Although, meeting his wife’s best friends was one obstacle he wasn’t sure he could conquer successfully.

Drakken had already met Shego’s immediate family with mixed results within the first few months of them dating. Not that Shego cared if he met her family but she couldn’t deny how awkward it would be if the first time they met her husband was at the wedding (even if they did elope). Her brother Heath turned up the machismo and pulled the ‘if you hurt my baby sister blah blah blah…” Michael seemed annoyed that he was dragged into this and had better things to do. The twins Wesley and William didn’t care, just a quick hi and they ran off to play. Her mother, Kate, thankfully, seemed to be the only one with a good head on her shoulders and only a little intimidating. Her father, well, Shego hasn’t spoken to him in a long time. He was invalid in her mind. Drakken meeting her friends was an actual priority for Shego. It took some orchestrating since they went to different colleges and lived in different states but finally made it work for a long weekend together.

They were throwing a small housewarming party. For many years, home was a lab that happened to have living quarters for Drakken and Shego and barracks for the henchman. Now, the lab was across town. Global Justice didn’t like them on too long of a leash. They managed to get out many of their personal belongings from all the past lairs (after GJ checked them of course) before destroying the lairs. That didn’t stop Drakken from starting a new lab down in the basement…

He didn’t know what to expect at first. The Mothman? A Chupacabra? A pack of wild wolves? Drakken couldn’t imagine Shego having normal friends, especially when her life changed drastically at such a young age. So, he did some sleuthing. Okay, okay, he searched Shego’s friend's list on Facebook. If he had an actual lab at home, he could unleash his real computer skillz.

Savannah Coffman, 27, BFA in visual arts, working towards her Masters, both from CalArts; unemployed.

Jill Nesbitt, 26, BBA, owns her own business in New Orleans. One citation for yelling ‘come at me, bro!’ at a living statue street performer.

Okay, nothing too alarming.

As their arrival time drew near, Commodore Puddles was put outside in the fenced backyard with water and plenty of toys to keep him busy. He really did not like company. When the doorbell rang, he started barking furiously and running back and forth to each side gate and back to the backdoor. How dare those filthy humans not let him have his prey!

“Don’t be weird,” Shego whispered harshly, before opening the door.

“Stephanie!” Jill and Savannah screeched, excitedly.

They enveloped Shego in a tight hug. Drakken was surprised that Shego didn’t seem to mind, even reciprocated. She didn’t let just anybody touch her. There were times when she wasn’t crazy that he was hugging her.

Drakken stood there in awkwardly as they greeted each other, complimenting each other’s looks and remarking on how long it had been since they last seen each other.

“Guys,” Shego said, nodding her head towards Drakken.

“Wow, you aren’t what I was expecting,” Jill said.

“Thanks?” Drakken replied, not sure how to take it.

Savannah studied him, “Yeah, I guess I expected the tall and dark type.”

“Yeah,” Jill added, “You guys were evil and whatnot at one point. You kinda look like my dad, but on a bad day.”

“I mean, he has a scar…”

“He got it from shaving,” Shego said, barely holding back laughter.

Jill got very close to Drakken’s face, who tried to lean away “What’s with the blue veins?” She asked Shego.

“Okay!” Shego interrupted, “This is Drew.” She said as she pulled Jill away from him.

They exchanged awkward hellos. Drakken already wanted to find a cave and hide.

Shego quickly ushered them into the living room while handing Drakken the bottle of wine Jill had brought that was forgotten in the welcoming frenzy. He had always wanted to see New Orleans, he thought as he set out to make the drinks. Shego was more of a Jack and Diet Coke kinda gal.

“Shit Steph, you have an actual place. I practically live in a closet above my shop.” Jill said.

“Same. Student Housing.” Savannah added.

“Don’t follow my example,” Shego warned, throwing herself on the couch with her legs across it.

As Drakken prepared their drinks, the women talked hurriedly and loudly in excitement and howled with laughter. It sounded like a coven of crazed witches planning their next ritual. He was just really glad that Shego was having fun.

He brought in the drinks and sat down next to Shego, moving her legs. She scowled at him as he did so but ignored her.

“Steph, look what I found,” Jill said, pulling out a worn, furry blue photo album.

Shego’s nickname hit his ears. She was very selective with who she let address her by her real name or any part of it.

She gasped in recognition as Jill and Savannah crowded around them.

Drakken peered over Shego’s shoulder. There were pictures of the young girls at sleepovers with butterfly clips in their hair, first days of school on sunny mornings, them pulling faces in a school hallway in front of lockers (Shego had braces?!), a group picture of them at prom and at graduation. A picture taken of the girls at a dance in line for the Cha-Cha Slide with Shego dressed tight jeans, focusing on her footwork. Shego was blonde at one point!? Shego with a purple streak in her thick, raven hair, Shego and her friends scowling at the camera with thick black eyeliner circling their eyes. Shego with alternative, teased hair, sticking her tongue out.

“No!” Shego howled, covering her face in embarrassment, “Burn that thing! It’s too cringey!”

Damn. Even some of his teenage photos were in black and white. Was their age gap that severe? Some of the slang Shego used sounded like a foreign language to him. What if they had kids? Drakken didn’t want to senile before his child’s graduation.

Their age difference of ten or so years never truly crossed his mind until then. As much as they were opposites in personality, they agreed on many things. Just different enough to keep things interesting, similar enough to keep a relative peace. In fact, the only time age was an issue was with the radio setting, when Drakken wanted to listen to the 70’s or 80’s station and Shego would roll her eyes and call the music corny. That, or have no idea who was playing.

Drakken had long ago accepted the fact that Shego was way out of his league, that he was the picture of a flattered fool. Even though he was a scientist, and scientists are taught to question everything, he chose not to. He knew Shego loved him and that she was trustworthy. Still, things got to him.

“Hey, Doc, has Steph told you about the time she tripped during eight grade graduation and knocked down our entire line?”

“No, no, no,” Jill said waving her hand excitedly and putting her glass down on the coffee table. “Remember the time she projectile vomited all over Amberlynn in tenth grade and everyone called her puky-lynn until we graduated?”

“Well, she was being a bitch and I had the stomach flu. It was just good timing,” Shego replied casually, playing with her hair.

“You should have seen it! She looked like the kid from the Exorcist!”

“And she looked so proud of herself afterward!”

“I was proud of myself afterward!

They lost themselves in stories of teachers; the good, the bad and the ugly, field trips and other school memories. Feeling self-conscious, Drakken excused himself with little notice from the women.

Shego, however, noticed and could tell something was wrong. She gave him some time before slipping away while Jill and Savannah argued about who really stole Savannah’s rainbow gel pen in fourth grade. Spoiler alert, it was Shego.

She found her husband in the bedroom, “What? Do we have cooties or something?” She teased as she sat down next to him.

Drakken was lost in thought, not looking at his wife. “Am I really that old?” He finally asked, not exclusively to Shego.

Shego scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Are we really doing this?”

“Yes! I feel like I’m robbing the cradle!”

“You need to chill. Don’t put much stock into what Jill says. I’m not entirely sure she’s human.”

That got a chuckle from the scientist.

“Has anyone who we actually like cared about our age gap?” Shego urged.

“Well, Mother was concerned- “

Shego cut him of dismissively, “She doesn’t count. Look, we’ve been through a lot of stuff together. How many times have we been separated because one of us was in jail and yet we got right back to where we were like it never happened? Drew. I hate to admit these kinda things, but you are more mature and wiser than me. How often do I rush into something stupid and you pull me back, telling me to think?”

The time she wanted to spend a good chunk of her bank account on a new purse when what she really needed was a new pair of boots for her suit came to mind.

And the time she really wanted to go BASE jumping while she was recovering from a concussion brought on by Ron Stoppable.

And anytime she speeds or runs a red light.

Despite all the stress he felt worrying for her general safety, she did keep things interesting.

“Not just that, remember the time we decided we wanted to go see the Northern Lights on the spur of the moment and we just kept traveling for nearly a month? Or that mosh pit at the Ghost concert last Halloween? Naked Twister? What about Rex the crocodile? She wouldn’t have survived if we didn’t take care of her for that month after she was injured in that hurricane. Tell me, would some broad your age go for all those things? I’m even including the crazy and exciting things we did and still get to do as part of our jobs!” She said.

Shego sat down on Drakken’s lap, wrapped her arms around him and looked into his eyes, “You aren’t the type of guy I’d date, let alone marry, but those guys were actual idiots. I don’t know how they’re still alive, whether from forgetting to breathe or staring at the sun for too long. I found out that I want substance in a guy and to have an actual conversation with my significant other. I found out that that’s what I want.”

Drakken smiled contently, “Thank you, Stephanie. I love you.”

“I love you, Drew.”

They sealed their proclamations with a kiss.

“You’re still a doofus though,” Shego said once they pulled away.

Drakken groaned. She could only be so nice.

“Are we good?” She asked.

Drakken nodded.

“Great, because Amberlynn lives around here and we’re gonna go egg her house,” Shego said, grinning deviously.

“I’ll drive and get my bat to knock over her mailbox!” Drakken replied giddily.

“See? We’re still a perfect team!”

#drakgo #drakken #shego

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achrisstevenson · 5 years

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The Illustrious Wendy Van Camp Interview!

Author Interview: Chris J. Breedlove

October 23, 2019

Wendy Van Camp

2 Comments

I asked Author Chris Breedlove what his motto for being a writer was. He answered:

A Writer is… A humble, receptive student and negotiator But the heart that beats within his/her breast Is a determined savage Unfamiliar with surrender

Please welcome this savvy science fiction author to No Wasted Ink.

My name is Chris Harold Stevenson and I’m 67 years young. I go by the pen name Christy J. Breedlove for my YA books and stories. Yes, I changed gender entirely. That’s another story.

My early writing accomplishment were multiple hits within a few years: In my first year of writing back in 1987, I wrote three SF short stories that were accepted by major slick magazines which qualified me for the Science Fiction Writers of America, and at the same time achieved a Finalist award in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. This recognition garnered me a top gun SF agent at the time, Richard Curtis Associates. My first novel went to John Badham (Director) and the producers, the Cohen Brothers. Only an option, but an extreme honor. The writer who beat me out of contention for a feature movie was Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park. My book was called Dinothon.

A year after that I published two best-selling non-fiction books and landed on radio, TV, in every library in the U.S. and in hundreds of newspapers.

I have been trying to catch that lightning in a bottle ever since. My YA dystopian novel, The Girl They Sold to the Moon won the grand prize in a publisher’s YA novel writing contest, went to a small auction and got tagged for a film option. So, My latest release is Sceamcatcher: Web World, and it’s showing some promise. I’m getting there, I hope!

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I considered myself a writer when I published the two shorts in Amazing Stories magazine. I actually considered myself an author after my first non-fiction book was published and hit the media. It seems I had to have legitimate credits in order to claim such status.

Can you share a little about your current book with us?

I can give you the basic summary, or the extended blurb:

When seventeen-year-old Jory Pike cannot shake the hellish nightmares of her parent’s deaths, she turns to an old family heirloom, a dream catcher. Even though she’s half-blood Chippewa, Jory thinks old Native American lore is so yesterday, but she’s willing to give it a try. However, the dream catcher has had its fill of nightmares from an ancient and violent past. After a sleepover party, and during one of Jory’s most horrific dream episodes, the dream catcher implodes, sucking Jory and her three friends into its own world of trapped nightmares. They’re in an alternate universe—locked inside of an insane web world filled with murders, beasts, and thieves. How can they find the center of the web where all good things are allowed to pass? Where is the light of salvation? Are they in hell?

What inspired you to write this book?

It all started with a dream catcher. This iconic item, which is rightfully ingrained in Indian lore, is a dream symbol respected by the culture that created it. It is mystifying, an enigma that that prods the imagination. Legends about the dream catcher are passed down from multiple tribes. There are variations, but the one fact that can be agreed upon is that it is a nightmare entrapment device, designed to sift through evil thoughts and images and only allow pleasant and peaceful dreams to enter into the consciousness of the sleeper.

I wondered what would happen to a very ancient dream catcher that was topped off with dreams and nightmares. What if the nightmares became too sick or deathly? What if the web strings could not hold any more visions? Would the dream catcher melt, burst, vanish, implode? I reasoned that something would have to give if too much evil was allowed to congregate inside of its structure. I found nothing on the Internet that offered a solution to this problem—I might have missed a relevant story, but nothing stood out to me. Stephen King had a story called Dream Catcher, but I found nothing in it that was similar to what I had in mind. So I took it upon myself to answer such a burning question. Like too much death on a battlefield could inundate the immediate location with lost and angry spirits, so could a dream catcher hold no more of its fill of sheer terror without morphing into something else, or opening up a lost and forbidden existence. What would it be like to be caught up in another world inside the webs of a dream catcher, and how would you get out? What would this world look like? How could it be navigated? What was the source of the exit, and what was inside of it that threatened your existence? Screamcatcher: Web World, the first in the series, was my answer. I can only hope that I have done it justice.

Do you have a specific writing style?

I’m a fruit salad of other known writer’s influences. Oh, like what I consider stylists: Poul Anderson, Virgin Planet, Peter Benchley, The Island and Jaws, Joseph Wambaugh, The Onion Field and Black Marble, Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park, Alan Dean Foster, Icerigger trilogy, and some Stephen King. Anne Rice impresses with just about anything she has written. I think it’s the humor and irony that attracts me the most–and it’s all character-related

How did you come up with the title of this book?

After I had the idea/premise for the book, having researched similar works, if any, I found that I had something very unique. It dawned on me to name the book Screamcatcher since it was a play on words and it sounded impactful. Again, I researched that word and only found that it was used in a short story about a kid having a tooth extraction. I knew then that I was home free. I was continuously complimented by all of the publishers and editors who saw the title. It’s the first book in the series, and I have sub-titles for the other two as well, which are sold and just about ready for editing.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

I’m not very heavy-handed when it comes to delivering messages in my books. I want to avoid any preaching at all costs. I do include the basic/standard survival, loyalty, courage and persistence themes in my young characters, as well as emotional growth and cooperation. I did hide, or rather include, a very deep and subtle message in the story that I think most will gloss over or not recognize altogether. And that is my belief that sometimes the nice guy finishes first and gets the gal. I wanted something that swerved away from the controlling, domineering alpha male that is so often seen in other works of YA and romance. I wanted a slow burn sweet romance that was touching. Quite a few reviewers recognized this message and I got kudos for it. That was a RELIEF.

Are experiences in this book based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

The main character Jorlene (Jory) is named after my sister. Although she does not resemble the FMC physically, she does so in an emotional sense. Her boyfriend, Choice Daniels, is named after my great-nephew. All of my books contain the names of my extended family members. And there are parts of them that show through in the personalities of the fictional characters.

What authors have most influenced your life? What about them do you find inspiring?

Other than those stylists mentioned above, I had direct contact with members of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. Alan Dean Foster, Richard Curtis, Robert Bloch, Bob Heinlein, Clive Barker, and others. From their Youtube instruction videos and articles, JK Rowling, Anne Rice, and Stephen King have inspired me tremendously with their no-nonsense attitude about hammering those keys in spite of depression, lack of motivation or pure laziness.

If you had to choose, is there a writer would you consider a mentor? Why?

That honor would go to Poul Anderson who wrote back to me habitually and gave me guidance in the industry when I needed it the most. He took out his valuable time to befriend me and answer so many questions. Can you tell I’m a dinosaur yet?

Who designed the cover of your book? Why did you select this illustrator?

Carlone Andrus of Melange Books, Fire & Ice YA division rendered the cover after reading the book. I had a different idea in mind, but she absolutely nailed it. The compliments have never stopped coming. Most of the plot is revealed on the cover but you would have to search very hard to put it all together.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Watch your spending on ads–they can be grossly ineffective. Use social media and generously interact with fellow writers and readers. Don’t abuse FB and Twitter solely for the purpose of “Buy My Book.” Join writing groups and learn from the pros. Ask politely for reviews–don’t pressure, harass or intimidate. Be creative. Target your genre readers. Offer incentives and freebies. Craft a newsletter and send it out bi-monthly. Don’t take critiques as personal attacks–learn from honest opinions. Don’t despair. Never give up. Revenge query. I run a writer’s advocate blog and I pull no punches.

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

If you think that you’ve had it tough, I recommend you watch Magic Beyond Words, the life story of Joanne Kathleen Rowling. Books just don’t happen. They are nurtured and raised from infancy, just like a budding writer is. This business might quit you, but you cannot quit the business. Stay active and attentively writing.

Chris J. Breedlove Sylvania, Alabama

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Screamcatcher: Web World

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amethyst-drakon2 · 6 years

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Let them eat cake: on being Demisexual

by Cara Liebowitz

In 2015, I’m coming out as demisexual.

Okay, so technically, I came out last year on National Coming Out Day. But that was only on Facebook, so I’m saying it again: I’m demisexual.

What does that mean?

While asexual means that someone doesn’t feel sexual attraction at all, being demisexual means that I do not feel sexual attraction to a person unless there is a strong emotional connection.

The inevitable response is generally “But I don’t think that anyone has sex unless they’re emotionally connected to the other person!”

Putting aside for now the fact that one night stands would not be a thing if this were true (and there wouldn’t be so many songs written about taking home a stranger you met in a bar), being demisexual isn’t about the act of sex proper. It’s about sexual attraction and feelings.

Demisexuality is part of the asexual spectrum, which is itself part of a sexuality spectrum ranging from sexual to asexual, with a wibbly wobbly area in between (to steal a phrase from the Tenth Doctor).

Confused yet? Don’t worry, I’m confused just writing this. Let me illustrate.

As you’ve probably already deduced, I fall somewhere in the wibbly wobbly area.

Many people who fall somewhere on the asexuality spectrum say that they’ve known all their lives that there was something “off” or “wrong” about them.

It wasn’t like that for me.

I got crushes on guys. I thought some guys were fairly good looking. I had my first kiss at the age of 13 because it seemed like the thing to do. I showed my breasts to a boyfriend at age 20 for similar reasons, not because it was something I particularly wanted to do. Nevertheless, I had a smattering of boyfriends — more than my other friends, in fact.

I assumed I was straight because I felt romantic attraction to guys. It had never dawned on me that romantic attraction and sexual attraction were different things, or that what I felt might be different from what other people felt.

Besides, I was busy trying to figure out my ever-changing disability identity. Someday, I figured, I’d surely want to have sex with someone.

It wasn’t until the tail end of college that I started suspecting that I might actually be different. I had a friend who would always complain that she was “soooo horny.” I felt confused, as I was pretty sure I’d never had the experience of being horny. Sex scenes in movies had always annoyed me.

I watched Sex and the City almost religiously, but for the gal-pal friendships that reminded me strongly of my relationships with my three best friends. I never really masturbated or felt an urge to check out what was happening “down there.”

I couldn’t understand what the big deal about sex was beyond the obvious baby-making process. It just wasn’t on my radar.

Frustrated, I turned to my friends in order to pin down what was so great about sticking a penis into a vagina and other forms of sex. Why was sex this huge thing that everyone wanted to talk about? Why were people willing to do almost anything for sex?

“It feels good!” they told me. Well, sure, I thought, but so does eating chocolate or taking a hot shower. It seemed to me that there was no way sex could feel that good.

Around that period, I was spending a lot of time on the microblogging site Tumblr.

Tumblr is often derisively referred to as the home of all the “social justice warriors,” and that’s exactly why I like it. Only on Tumblr can you find passionate and deep social justice conversation existing side by side (and sometimes simultaneously) with passionate and deep conversations around various fandoms, liberally interspersed with reaction gifs.

It was on Tumblr that I first stumbled across asexuality and all its variations. I followed the links all around the Internet, read up on asexuality, wandered around the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network (AVEN) website, and began to feel like that identity might fit me.

I especially appreciated the asexual in-joke of presenting cake to those in the community – because asexuals would rather have cake than sex. I’d take cake over sex every time!

Still, I felt uneasy. I didn’t want to appropriate other people’s identities, and it’s not as though a sexuality fairy would come from the sky to crown me as asexual. What if I wasn’t really asexual? What if I were just oblivious?

It had happened before with other things. I have a reputation for being somewhat oblivious and missing things that are (sometimes literally) right under my nose.

Then, one day, I came across this incredible essay on trying to figure out sexual attraction entitled “If You Can See The Invisible Elephant, Please Describe It.” It produced in me a feeling I recognized from reading certain pieces about disability – the feeling of “Yes! This is me!”

It was like a beautiful sunrise, and it was the closest I was getting to a sexuality fairy telling me how to identify. From that day forward, I began to identify as asexual.

About a year and a half ago, I met a wonderful man through a mutual friend. We bonded over our shared love of Doctor Who and, though I had just gotten out of a relationship and wasn’t looking for another, I found myself falling for him. And more than that, I realized I wanted to do more with him.

With him, I’ve gone further than I ever have before. He’s helped me to learn a lot about my body. I’ve figured out more of what I like sexually and what I don’t. I now understand a lot more what the “big deal” is about sex. It does feel good! While I still don’t plan on having “traditional” P-in-V sex any time soon, I’ve learned that there’s a lot more out there in the realm of sexual fun.

This doesn’t mean I’ve revoked my “ace” card, though.

I identify as demisexual because of the emotional connection I’ve had with my one and only sexual partner. I could also identify as gray-A, another common term for those who fall in the middle of the sexuality spectrum. I generally tell people I’m “asexual-ish,” both because it’s more understood than demisexuality and because I’m still not sure where on the spectrum I really lie.

Sex still isn’t really my thing. I see it the same way I see dessert: It’s a good thing when it happens, but it’s not something I would actively seek out.

Of course, this is a bad analogy when applied to me, because I’m one of those people who always wants dessert, but hopefully, you get what I mean. I would rather cuddle on the couch and watch Netflix any day than have sexy times, but if it happens, it happens, and I’m not opposed to it.

Coming out is a process, and I’m still wishing for that sexuality fairy to come down from the heavens. But with the support of other asexual people, I’m starting to feel more comfortable.

If you’re asexual, or any variations on it, feel free to share your experiences! The only way we’ll ever increase understanding is to speak out.

#asexual #demisexual #asexuality #demisexuality #greyace #grace #aven #greyasexuality #ace #ace discourse #ace discrimination #ace positivity #ace cake #ace dragon

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 6 years

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a list of gross/weird ass advances that i’ve had from people:

•that one boy in primary school who was a younger brother of someone in my year, in the year under us, that harassed me for like two years straight by following me around singing/rapping eminem’s “shake that” ft nate dogg to me. like y’all this shit was happening when i was like 9-11 years old. and this behaviour ruined that song for me for literal YEARS. obvs, you could fight this one with “well, he was just a kid and you were as well. so, it can’t really be helped or criticised bc he was just repeating the things you’d both heard on the tv/radio. he probs thought at the time that this was an okay song (which it obvs wasn’t) to sing to a girl that he liked; bc it was so popular back then (2005-2006)” which, of course, is to some extent true. but still???? a kid should know the meaning of “can you please STOP following me around singing that song, thanks?” that i asked him several times to do, but he kept doing it, until i told a teacher.

-that one time at 13/14 when i signed up to facebook for the first time ever, after two years of being used to myspace (good times),and got automatically signed up to the dating app zoosk bc FB had decided to sign me up as single and lonely and therefore, i needed a man. so, i spent my first 3 fucking months of facebook trying to find how to deactivate that fucking app and had men in their late teens to their early/mid 20s hitting on me through the whole thing. but at least most of the guys were understanding here and were rightfully freaked out as i was that fb had signed a fucking 13/14 year old up to a motherfucking dating service.

•”your name is so fucked! like it’s so hard to learn how to fucking spell and pronounce... like why the fuck would your parents call you that bc no one would call their kid that??? anyway, I’m just gonna call you *insert plain ass white girl name here* for the rest of conversation bc it’s soooo much easier for me! but like, why the actual fuck won’t you give me more than two word replies you super over conceited bitch!? when i’ve been nothing but nice to you?! btw you’re sexy anyway and that should fix this. ps. send me nudes on snapchat bc its 2am and im lonely.” (all the same guy.)

•”oh hey.... we should make a wager where we if we ever meet and go out to a bar.... and we should bet off each other virginity’s right? are you with me? anyway, so, we go to a bar and see who gets fucked first and so loses their virginity first. and whoever loses their virginity first has to fuck the other one so that we both lose out virginity on the same night! sounds like a great idea doesn’t it? hahahahaha 😂😅 ”constant harassment for nudes and nude videos to be this guy’s private cam girl, bc apparently “following you for 4 years on tumblr is a lot of trust and so you owe me nudes bitch” ”oh and by the way, how are all your vibrators? are they getting a good work out? 😉😏😏” (this is all the same guy who follows me on here.)

•that one dude who thought that me inviting a friend along with me to us meeting in Bondi (in Sydney) made my friend an awkward 3rd wheel bc apparently we were a couple bc he liked all my posts on this godawful problematic hellsite. he was 18 like me. but still.

•those two 28 year olds who harassed me with sexual messages when I was 17 again on this godawful hellsite. and one of those guys always asking for selfies bc I was “so hot” and “so pretty” like y’all I WAS A FUCKING CHILD AND THEY WERE FULL GROWN ADULT MEN PAYING BILLS AND SHIT. IT WAS LIKE: PLS TRY AND PULL WOMEN YOUR OWN AGE. and then the other dude using the teacher sex fantasy where they fuck in the girls changeroom after sport.... when he was literally old enough to be a PE teacher at my school.

•literally just everything my high school stalker said to me back in the day and when I ended up running into him in 2015 on the bus home from uni.

•that one guy who I s2g was in his 30s and not his 20s like he said; from like azerbaijan or some other random country, hitting on me when I was 18/19 bc I “looked like a nice girl”

•those two guys somewhere in their 20s (where one of the guys was trying to set me up with his friend) when I was 17/18 who kept asking me if I’d ever watched porn and masturbated... and why I still hadn’t fucked anyone yet when I should’ve fucked someone by the time I was 15, apparently.

•mr creeper mccreepcreep who was absolutely hellbent in trying to confiscate/steal my phone (and my bag at one point) from me and just generally trying to leave me without my phone last year at a bar with some friends (2017) when he found out by peering over my shoulder at my phone, that i’d texted someone to pick me up from the bar to escape from him. bc remember: “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO LEAVE ME AND TEXT PEOPLE TO LEAVE THE BAR WHEN I’VE JUST MET YOU! AND YOU’RE SEXY SLEEP WITH ME, YOU BITCH! AND BY THE WAY, YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO LOOK AT OR EVEN ASK FOR MY PHONE EXCEPT TO ADD ME ON FACEY! :P” (this is what i think his thought process was it’s not what he actually said out loud) the whole time i was with him though, he was completely and utterly grossing me the fuck out and scaring me to death with how desperate he was to leave me without an escape route from that bar other than either him or my friends (ie my phone) and feeling straight up my dress and trying to “convince you (me) to kiss me (him)” i’m pretty sure i was close to getting my drink spiked if i’d had one with me tbh. he just gave off that feeling.

•ok this wasn’t from a guy... but when I moved schools at 16/17 (2012), one of the girls that I met was hellbent again on trying to “get you (me) a boyfriend bc you (i) need one”, apparently. in this process, she kept trying to set me up with men in their late 20s/early 30s (and a tiny minority close to our age at the time, at 16-18 even early 20s) and practically bribed me (i.e. she gave me jewellery and CD’s to keep me quiet each time) for the use of my phone to do so. she always asked me if i was talking to those guys and when i said no she was always like “why though??? they’re so nice!” and i was like “THE BULK OF THEM ARE ADULT MEN MABEL! THEY SHOULDN’T BE FLIRTING WITH/TRYING TO DATE GIRLS WHO ARE 16/17!!! SOME OF THEM ARE ALMOST TWICE OUR AGE!!! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT???!!!″ to which she’d answer with “so?????” she even asked a few times if she could take my mobile phone home WITH HER to add more creepy men.... which i obviously said a resounding “NO????!!!!” to. finally, at the end of all that shit, she hit on me. when I said no she asked “is that bc you went to catholic school?” and I was like “no it’s just bc I don’t swing that way right now.” (and plus your behaviour is really fucking weird and concerning).

but the moral of this post is to fucking stay safe, my ragtime gals and my dudes.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona whines about her absolutely shitty luck with dudes #the girls name has been changed lol #but seriously though #why tbr fuck are people so fucking weied #*weird and gross

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