#anyways i officially got me diploma :D

[butterfilledpockets]

during the graduation speech the headmaster was making. a breakfast club allegory

and when he mentioned the "odd one" he made direct eye contact with me for like ten seconds what the hell???

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Portgas D. Ace Headcanons 01

Excuse me Oda-sensei, but that 40 year old Ace is simply criminal. Thank you so much for blessing us with him

Anyway! Have some Husband!Ace headcanons For more Ace content please head to my Tumblr MasterList

Ace is, respectfully, a huge simp for his wife

To the extent that the Whitebeard crew straight up jokingly awarded him with a “Biggest Wife Simp” Award

They made it look official and had Whitebeard sign it and everything. There's even a stamp.

Ace has it framed and hung proudly on the wall next to your bachelor’s degree / college diploma / degree in general. 

I feel like despite his own personal insecurities, Ace still manages to be an amazing father

I imagine Ace originally setting out for like one or two kiddos at most (because y'know...what if he's not good enough) and ending up with 3 or 4 kids

Thing is, that’s both your faults.

Ace is tender and goofy with his kids, and he’s so friggin caring: to the extent that…well wouldn’t it be neat to see him with maybe another 2 or 3 kiddos of his own? 

(Your husband is hot okay?)

In his case, he swears you have a unique glow about you when you’re pregnant. But more than that when he sees you with your first born, he suddenly wants a big family with you.

I imagine his kids are an eldest son, then his princess, then the youngest boy who takes after his uncle Luffy.

His kids aren’t parentified. He keeps his issues far, far, away from them. Besides, he’s got you by his side.

He was dedicated to making sure they got as much playtime as possible.

He heard about learning through play, and he is DEDICATED to doing that as much as possible

Ace’s kids are spoiled with affection, but not spoiled brats.

While it’s true he’d give them the world, he’d rather let them go get it themselves. 

For example: when they asked for a tree house, he gave them the greenlight immediately.

But they had to build it themselves.

It was a super fun project lasting a little over two months with the whole family involved.

Oh and the Whitebeard crew helped too.

It took a while to get the design down initially, then the shopping logistics and whatnot (they used a lot of math here - see education via play)

Building the thing took maybe a weekend or two because the Whitebeard Crew and even the Strawhats came over to help

(It was mostly Franky and Usopp doing work, Sanji was cooking with Thatch)

Uncle Luffy was not allowed near the construction zone after an accident.

They almost destroyed the tree house with their partying once

Ace’s kids were not happy and no one was allowed in the backyard for the rest of the night

He makes sure they have proper manners and self-defense skills

You had to help out here, no lie.

He admitted he needed your help, especially after a dinner with Garp where Makino tagged along to see Ace again

He puts all of his kids into martial arts classes

especially his princess - he’s so proud of her when she beats up bullies

He’s not great at discipline though to be honest. He probably goes about it similarly to Garp. 

Ace will not tolerate any of his kids being nasty to their mother. No matter the phase.

You will have to hold him back if you want to let them get their frustration off their chest.

He’ll let them talk, but you’ll have to keep a hand on him somewhere, his arm, his hand, his knee, his shoulder, his back and rub soothing circles

Let’s just say, “talk shit, get hit,” is Ace’s attitude towards anyone being demeaning towards you (more so with adults, not his kids, but that's why they get a scolding)

"Ace my love" (he melts every time you call him that) "the kids’ll start thinking you love me more than them if you do that"

"My kids won’t disrespect their mother though!"

"They’re just venting darling, and when they say or do something that violates my boundaries, I'll be sure to reinforce it. Lead by example right?"

If they ever feel like pissing Ace off for fun they can just say something kinda not nice about you and he'll get mad and they'll flee from him giggling like the little gremlins they are

Ace is veeeeeeeeerry physically affectionate and he isn’t shy about it at all.

At gatherings with the Whitebeard family, he will gladly seat you in his lap, he will happily hug you as you are seated.

His arm is on your waist most of the time.

They tease him to make him tone it down, he does not.

He, in fact, dials it up. Turns up the heat lol.

You have kids? Not in front of them? What do you mean, not in front of the kids? It’s important they know just how much he loves their mama!

So he will continue to be playful with his hugs and kisses and other displays of affection.

It’s nothing too over the top. Just hugs and quick pecks wherever.

Your entire head is fair game for his smooches, your arms (he loves kissing your pulse and then making eye contact, sneaky guy that he is), your shoulders.

Maybe lifting you and spinning you around. Cuddles. Little bites.

He will play-wrestle his kids to “fight” them over getting to cuddle you, and then he’ll just put all his weight on all of you in a group cuddle

Just to let you know, your kids also receive all the warmth and love of his affections.

When his sons are still tiny and adorable, he smooches them all over. The kisses grow less frequent as they grow older, but the hugs do not stop.

Oh no, hugs galore.

Ace still pecks his little princess on her forehead though

When they’re all under ten he’ll wrap them in a hug (after he chased them down and caught them so they’re laughing and screaming) and start smooching their cheeks while they laugh and try to get out of his grasp

Also yes she’s his princess, but that girl has no problem throwing a fully grown man twice her size around, he made sure of it.

I reiterate: Ace is not remotely shy about displays of affection

Like his eldest could have a friend over, and Ace would still launch a full scale hug attack using the rest of his troops (daughter/youngest)

It's complete with screeching, screaming, and a lot of laughter

His kids used to get teased for it, but it didn’t take more than a few conversations for them to instead jeer at the kids that teased them.

"You’re all jealous your parents don’t love you like ours do"

"How sad, your parents don't hug and kiss you"

Their dad, grandpa, uncle - uncles really, are all gremlins - it's in their DNA

The kids are really physically affectionate with each other as a result

Deadass they’ll be kicking the shit out of each other one second and the next they’ll be all cuddled and huddled up playing Mario Kart or something

Ace is his kids’ hero.

His sons aspire to have his level of fitness.

His daughter, when she’s older, uses him as a standard for dating

You're relieved

Ace is touched and a touch nervous, because he is aware of his shortcomings, though he works hard to keep improving

Of course when you look at him, a twinkle in your eyes, and tell him, “I’m so proud of her, I’m so proud of you!” He feels better

When you continue: “if she can find a guy like you, who cherishes her as much as you cherish me, I’d be so happy.”

Ace loves you so much he swears

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

your tags on my post slapped me across the face. yes fucking yes. the fall from academic grace hits a whole lot harder when you've been excessively built up and built up for years and then come crashing down. i constantly feel like im letting everyone and younger self down. the whole thing about IDENTITY is so true too! x adhd-vibes

Well, your post came into my house and punched me in the gut, so...

But no, I really genuinely appreciate posts talking about the gifted child + neurodivergence duality because it’s... a lot. And I feel like I’m only just starting to understand-- well, my entire life, basically. 

My entire life past the age of ~13 has been a constant up and down of thriving and burnout, a lot of self loathing and doubt over my perceived failure, and a lot of depression and anxiety. And I just found out last year that a fair portion of it can likely be chalked up to the fact that I’ve had ADHD my entire life, my parents found out when I was four years old, and no one told me. 

I started kindergarten at four. I was already reading chapter books. I’d finish reading the assignments before the teacher even finished handing them out, and be up and causing distractions because I was bored. They talked about bumping me to second grade, but I was already the youngest in my class and they didn’t want to create more of an age gap. 

I did first grade half in English, half in Japanese to keep me “challenged”. The Japanese teacher hated that I was so young, and after a while refused to teach me. 

My second grade teacher made a rule that I could sit any way I liked, or move around however I wanted, so long as I could touch my desk. 

My third grade teacher set up a play area for students who finished their work early, and I spent most of my time there. 

My fourth grade teacher recommended fantasy novels and read to us during downtime. 

My fifth grade teacher helped me and my friends start a writing club, and she’d read our short stories and give us notes so we could work on our drafts when we were done with our schoolwork. 

And then sixth grade and algebra happened and I could not for the life of me do the assignments well. I worked with friends in a study group. I had three different math teachers try to help me, in case one clicked differently. They’d watch me do the work, step by step, and one of two things would happen: 

1. Either I’d do the work perfectly, but the answer was entirely wrong and they couldn’t figure out why 

or

2. I’d do the work all wrong, but get the right answer every time. 

But since you had to show your work for full credit, I went from a straight A student to mostly A’s and a C in math, no matter what I did. 

My self esteem tanked. Most of my memories from middle school are of sitting alone at the dining room table sobbing because I felt stupid, and like a failure, and I just wanted to die, and sitting at a table focusing on only one thing with no background noise or stimulation was torture in and of itself. I finally got my mom to let me listen to the radio while I worked, and it helped a little, but night after night I’d sit there, sob through my math homework, and wish to disappear. 

All of the self-loathing and stress manifested into extreme anxiety. I started washing my hands constantly, because that I could control. My hands cracked and bled. I kept washing. 

I started self harming, and my mom found out and took me to see a therapist (who is still my therapist to this day), and I was diagnosed with OCD and Major Depressive Disorder, as well as Seasonal Affective Disorder.

By the time high school started, the handwashing had mostly stopped but still flared up again occasionally, and I was on track to graduate with highest honors following the “College Prep Honors” curriculum track. I made the National Honor Society, and did student government as well as zero hour choir and drama. I took Honors English and excelled. 

But to complete the degree, I’d have to take Algebra I freshman year, Algebra II Honors sophomore year, Algebra III/Trig junior year, and Calculus senior year. 

I got a C in Algebra I. I lost my National Honor Society status because of the GPA drop. I quit student government because I was ashamed. 

I was told to drop Algebra II Honors two weeks in, because I was going to fail the class. This meant I would not get the diploma I wanted, but the secondary “College Prep” diploma. 

I fell into a deep depression, decided I was stupid, and stopped trying. My report cards after that for the rest of high school were an assortment of A’s, B’s, C’s, even a D or two. I hated myself for not living up to my potential, for being a disappointment to my parents, for being so stupid. 

I went back to therapy. I graduated high school. I went to college. I burnt out. 

I took a gap year because I was suicidal and didn’t know what to do. I went back to therapy. 

I transferred to a university. I burnt out. I dropped out, because I was suicidal and didn’t know what to do. I went back to therapy. 

And when I was 27 years old, I found a box of old school stuff from elementary school, and as my mom and I laughed about it she told me that an administrator who specialized in identifying attention deficit disorders had observed me in kindergarten at the request of my teacher because I was causing distractions, told them that he was entirely certain I had what was at the time called ADD... and not to have me officially diagnosed in order to keep it out of my school record and avoid any “challenges to my desired educational path”.  

Teachers were told, and chosen specifically to work with me and not against me, which I appreciate greatly. 

I was never told. 

On the one hand, I can see how my parents just didn’t want me to go through life believing I had something “wrong” with me, didn’t want me to be held back from pursuing any classes I wanted to take because of my “diagnosis”, and didn’t want me to be “unnecessarily medicated”. I appreciate the time and care that went into trying to guide me along and give me safe environments to be my authentic self without being told it was a hindrance or a “problem”. 

But the more I learn the more I can’t help but wish someone had told me. 

Because I spent the last 16 years of my life thinking that somewhere along the way I had “lost” something, or “failed”, and really it was a pretty predictable and manageable sequence of events. 

I’ve since learned that a lot of the things I’ve always done that I’ve felt uncomfortable or “odd” about... are stims. Minor ones, but stims, nonetheless. 

I’ve since learned that I was bullied pretty severely for being “weird” in elementary school, but I have no memory of it. 

I’ve since learned that dyscalculia is thing, and very well could have contributed to my ongoing struggle with math. 

And for the rest of my life I will wonder if knowing would have changed anything. If my depression is a side effect of this thing I didn’t know about myself, or a separate piece of me. Who I might have been if my entire identity wasn’t tied to my perceived sudden loss of intelligence and potential. 

Anyway. I’ve rambled quite enough. If anyone wants to talk about any of this, or vent, or ask questions, feel free. This is the post we are referring to, by the by. 

[alliswell21]

Password

A fic for @historywriter2007, @lovely-tothe-bone, @mega-aulover and @arbyeatscheesebuns from a Prompt about a professor on tinder... hope this one is to your liking!

————————

I come into my bedroom to find Johanna lounging on my bed, messing with my cellphone, like she owns the place.

“What are you doing?” I demand feeling all my nerve ends spike in warning.

“Nothing,” She drawls nonchalantly, looking up from my phone with those brown, wide set eyes of hers, too innocently to be true.

“What are you doing with my phone? And how the hell did you figure out my password?” I grunt.

Johanna flips the phone next to her on the mattress, stretching like a cat, and then sits up taking her sweet time.

“You know, Brainless, if you use the same password for everything, from your bank account, to your Facebook, and also your email, and the password is just your sister’s birth date and initials everytime, you deserve to get hacked.” She scoots off the bed lazily, “I’m done anyways. I took the liberty to check on your tinder for you. You’re welcome!” She smiles devilishly, sauntering out of the bedroom.

“Tinder?” I ask in confusion, diving for my phone to check it myself, because I’ve never signed up for a Tinder account. That’s just… not me!

A couple of swipes, and sure enough, there’s an icon for an app I would never download myself.

“How the…?! Fudge! Now I really need to change all my passwords! Lousy Johanna!” I mutter angrily under my breath.

“Jo! What did you do?” I run after her waving my phone. “Why did you signed me up for a tinder account?”

She rolls her eyes while raspberrying obnoxiously. “Katniss, we had this discussion Saturday, after Madge’s party. I said you needed to get laid before your lady parts became dusty, and you said it was cool when I suggested tinder.”

“I was drunk!” I screech.

“No you weren’t! You only had two beers.”

“Plus all the shots of tequila you practically force fed me!” I groan. “Johanna, I don’t want a tinder!”

“Kitty cat, it’s done. Plus there are some hotties there I already took the liberty to swipe right for you. Now you’ll be on their feeds and if the swipe right too when they see your profile picture, then you’ll be matched and you’ll be on your way to orgasmic bliss!”

I scrub my face with both hands, questioning my life choices, especially the one where I actually begged Johanna Mason to move in after my last roommate left the apartment.

Finally I say with resolve, “I’m deleting the account. I don’t want it and definitely don’t need it!”

“After all the time I devoted to create the perfect profile that made you look like a total bombshell?!” She’s glaring at me. “Do you know how many guys are showing in your feed? That means they’re interested in you, Brainless! Give it a try and live a little for once! YOLO and all that jazz, you’re no spring chicken anymore, you know.”

“Can it, Jo! I don’t have time for this!” I say hunching all over, “Thank you for the effort, but... this isn’t for me, Jo.” I say a little defeated.

“You’ll be fine, brainless, stop being so dramatic.” Johanna sighs behind me before I shut myself into my room.

My love life is nonexistent, just as I want it to be… at least while I’m sober it seems.

I flop on the bed, cell phone in hand, ready to delete the tinder app when I see there’s a message. Out of curiosity, I tap the icon and almost flat line at the name displayed in the header.

I scream. Loudly. I scream Johanna’s name like is a cuss word and stomp menacingly down the hall to scream at her some more, but I’m freaking out with anxiety to the point that my anger gets buried under other unpleasant emotions that make my stomach roil.

“What’s wrong?!” My roommate asks jumping off the couch, her eyes wide with concern. “Did something happened?”

I start stuttering and flailing my arms like a person drowning in the middle of the sea; it takes a shake from Jo to finally sputter, “My teacher!” I stare at Johanna with wild eyes and finally feel the anger return. “You matched me with my freaking Teacher!”

It feels good to lash out in complete control of my feelings.

“I did not!” Johanna shoves me away rolling her eyes and going back to plant her butt in front of the TV. “I wouldn’t have match you with some old fart looking for young tail on tinder.” She says dismissively. “I have my limits.”

I groan in aggravation. “He’s not an old fart. He’s only a few years older than me. He teaches my stupid Social Scienses class... the one I told you about.”

Johanna’s interest piqued, “Go on…” she prompts.

I sink into the couch next to her, afraid of my phone.

Getting my college education has been my very own personal Odyssey. What should have taken a normal student four years, has taken me seven, since at first I had to work full time to help my mother support our little family, while my younger sister finished high school. I would’ve kept supporting us if my sister hadn’t insisted I got into higher education as well; so at the age of twenty six and a half, a diploma is within my grasp. I don’t mind doing grunt work, but my sister was right to push me for more. I’m ready to move on to a higher bracket in the salary ladder, and to do that, I’m required a college degree.

I neglected the needed Social Science credits for my degree until this year. I had to scramble to get all my credits for graduation, and I needed a Social Science class to round up the requirements.

I decided to go with American Ethnich Studies because the odds were in my favor, since it’s a very sought after course and a spot magically opened while I was picking my schedule and was able to snatch it up. The class is not really an elective, but it fills pretty quickly, and for good reason: the curriculum is fresh, the material is interesting, the level of compelling information is outstanding, and I also rationalize that since my late dad was from Native American descent, it would be a great opportunity to acquire academic knowledge of my heritage and all the other cultures that make America a rich tapestry that go beyond race, gender and tradition.

But the man teaching the class is a whole other compelling reason on its own… not that I was aware of that tiny detail until I set foot in the classroom.

“So, are you gonna show me this professor that’s got your panties all twisted and damped?” Jo challenges.

I only glare at her for a second, before slumping my shoulders. “He messaged me.”

“What did he say?” Johanna is now on her knees on the couch, facing me, the mischief glinting in her eyes annoys me to no end.

“I haven’t read it yet…” I sigh staring at my phone like it’s a poisonous snake.

“Why not?” Jo demands.

“Because it’s my freaking teacher, Johanna!” I say at the edge of a panic attack.

American Ethnic Studies is the class I’ve done worse in my whole schooling career. I blame it all solely on the professor, Mr. Mellark, who’s name is flashing on my screen.

I don’t mean Mr. Mellark is a bad or even mediocre teacher; on the contrary, he is in fact very knowledgeable, kind, open, friendly and approachable. But the man is ridiculously handsome; his voice is deep and smooth like warm dark melted chocolate, his eyes are as blue and deep as a summer sky under an unruly mop of ashy blonde waves, and his smile nearly made my heart stop the first time I saw it aimed at me. Then is the rest of his body: ass round and firm scrumptiously encased in pressed slacks, and shoulders so broad I wonder how can he find the right size shirts to cover them?

In other words, professor Mellark is what I believe a modern Greek god would look like nowadays, which brings me back to my original statement, I never took into account how the looks of a man could affect my concentration in class, resulting in the awful marks I’ve been getting in the course all year.

Johanna snatches my phone from my fingers, and I scramble after her to retrieve it.

“Johanna!”

“Hush, Brainless!”

She sticks out her hand to stop me from grabbing back my phone. I see with horror she’s already unlocked the screen.

“Give it back!” I demand stretching beyond Johanna’s shoulder and finally wrapping my hand around my device. “Don’t read my message! It’s private!” I snap.

“Oh please! I already told you, nothing is private until you change passwords. Now… read the thing! Stop being a coward!”

I glare at Jo for a second, but ultimately turn my eyes to the small bubble with a great deal of anxiety, because now there’s not just one, but two messages from Professor Mellark waiting for me. I steel myself and finally let the words take meaning as I read.

Peeta Mellark: Hey Katniss, I saw you in my feed and grappled with the questionable propriety of my choices: a) acknowledge you, saying hello since we got matched and passing for creepy; or b) ignoring you by swiping left and passing for rude.

I guess I managed to answer that question already.

Peeta Mellark: I’ll take this slightly awkward opportunity to tell you your final grade: B

I say the words in a monotone, not really knowing how to feel. I want to laugh and bawl at the same time. This man is so witty even in writing.

“Well? Are you going to answer or what?” Johanna presses bluntly, practically breathing down my nape.

I push her away a fraction, and mutter, “Shut up, Jo. I’m thinking!”

“You gotta answer! Stop thinking!”

“What am I supposed to say back?” I ask her harshly.

“Tell him you can handle the D if he swaps that B for an A!” Johanna wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, as if I would ever say something as crass or forward.

“Are you crazy?! I can tell my teacher that!” I balk.

“You gotta say something!”

“I know!” I sigh and start typing, carefully choosing my words.

Katniss Everdeen: Hello, Mr. Mellark. I would have never thought you rude for swiping left. I completely understand. Believe me, tinder wasn’t my idea, but my best friend decided I needed to socialize more… so… here we are...

I cringe.

Katniss Everdeen: Thanks for the grades. I’m relieved to know I’ve passed the class, it means I’m officially a graduate! No longer a student!

For the first time I let the news sink in and bask in the knowledge that I am graduating and can’t help but smile and say a tiny “Yay, Me!” Under my breath at the same time I’m pumping the air with my fist.

Johanna shoves me aside to read what I wrote, and then makes a disgruntled noise. “I thought something sexy was finally said when you reacted so excited.”

I’m about to tell her that getting my diploma is exciting but a chime goes off, announcing another message.

We both peer down at the phone and I gasp. Mr. Mellark has responded, and there’s a smiley face and a question; Johanna is yakking about none stop next to me, trying to tell me what to say or how to phrase it, but I’m speechless and elated because the few lines my ex-professor has written are so unexpected but so welcome, is not even funny.

Peeta Mellark: Congratulations! I knew you could do it!

Peeta Mellark: By the way, call me Peeta, I’m not your professor anymore, and given the circumstances, I believe is kosher to be informal… friendlier.

Peeta Mellark: Also, I was wondering, since we got matched up and everything, would you like to have a cup of coffee or tea with me… since you're officially not my student anymore?

My fingers fly over the screen typing my answer in a flash. I don’t even have to think what I want to say.

Katniss Everdeen: Make it a cup of hot chocolate, and you have a date… Peeta.

His answer is practically immediate.

Peeta Mellark: It's a date then! Meet me tomorrow at my brother’s bakery? Corner of Twelve and Capitol? They have the best cheese buns to pair with that hot chocolate… and I’ll get the privilege to show you off as my date. My brother set me up on tinder too.

I’m not sure if the smile I’m wearing is for what I’m reading, or because I’m now free to fantasize about my teacher, but when I see the rest of his reply, I know this would’ve happened anyway some way or another...

Peeta Mellark: Full disclosure at the risk of still sounding creepy, but I think it was lucky our profiles got matched together. It gave me the chance to ask you out, and I sorely wanted to approach you, but didn’t know how. This is the perfect excuse. Thank you for swiping right.

“See, Brainless?! You’re welcome!” Says Johanna breaking the nice little bubble I was in.

I roll my eyes not even trying to stop my smile, “Fine, Johanna, thank you for swiping right… now get out of my phone, and don’t even try to crack the new password! Also, I’m definitely deleting Tinder!”

[quirksandoddities]

A New Decade

From a scale of 1-10, how cliche is it that I’ve decided to be more active in this blog to start off my decade? I’d give it an 11. Lol. But, here I am typing away anyway. :D 

So the idea is that I write at least 2 full entries per month, (i.e. with text and photos that I actually exerted effort on and not just the usual song lyrics that I often put here just to keep this page alive). Thing is, I know I don’t have enough followers here for this to even matter - it’s not like anyone is on the lookout for my new blog or whatever it is that is happening in my life. Haha. 

But, it’s also some thing that I want to start this year: to write more. For as long as I can remember it has always been therapeutic for me. Writing, that is. I’ve kept a diary since 2nd grade and reading my old journals made me realize that maybe I’ve stayed relatively sane this long because I’ve always managed to have an outlet for my happy thoughts, my crushes, my sadness, my anxiety, my disappointment, etc. via writing. All these can be found on my journals and maybe it won’t hurt to try and do it online too. 

So this will be Blog #1 for 2020 and for January. And of course what else would be best to talk about other than the year that was? 

Me in the Harry Potter Cafe in Hongdae, Seoul, October 2019

The Kakao Friends Store in Gangnam (a 10 minute walk from my hostel! Haha)

It was so nice to be back in Seoul and to see my friends, eat good Korean food, and be able to walk in the streets without sweating profusely. (This is a legit struggle in PH so it’s always one of the things I look forward to when I visit a country during Fall/Spring/Winter.) I spent a lot of time meeting people for coffee and dinner and catching up on life and knowing how much my friends and I have grown, from the graduate students we once were in GIP, to the adults we are now, makes me grateful that we’ve managed to keep in touch with each other still. 

I also managed to do some official stuff like getting my transcripts and diploma from KHU as well as getting them apostilled at the MOFA in Yangjae. I know it’s been 4 years since and it’s long overdue but I figured, I’m here anyway so might as well get that stuff done. It was more expensive than I expected (about $50 for 2 pages), but it was something I needed so I just closed my eyes and paid the lawyer for the notarization fee. Lol.

And of course, I stuffed myself with Korean food - both the nice kind and the hole-in-the-wall Mandu / Kimbap places I usually ate in when I lived here. I still think that me half-learning Hangeul was one of the best decisions I made when I moved because I can effectively order food on my own even if the menu doesn’t have an English translation. Small victories, I say! :P

I am sincerely grateful that I got to go back and experience Seoul again, and this time not as a struggling student. Haha. And like I always say, South Korea will always have a special place in my heart. <3

[memoirs-to-myself]

The World Can Be Tricked Re;DUX

This has been one lackluster journal, blog, whatever, hasn’t it? What started as a simple way to cowardly way to vent, went to daily reports, occasional pics and posts, and long absences due to actual journaling in late 2014-early 2015 (which are sadly lost, more on that later), then lack of interest, computer availability, and last but not least, tumblr taking the crapper (yes 2011 me, I know, insane right?)

What was my point, again? I had a point writing this, right? Oh yes, the memoirs, right. 

I’ve always been, well, kind of different. I experience the world in a different sense than most people. If you’re reading this, chances are you already know that. One of the ways I like to view the world, ever since I was a little kid, was like a book series. Sometimes video game series, or a long movie series, but book series seemed to appeal to me more. Probably because of the length. I would always wonder to myself as a kid,” Is this my backstory? How many books am I already in? Has my story begun?” The thought has never really left me. “If my life were a book series, where would the first book start” Kind of a hard philosophical question of you think about it. Well, I think I have an answer, or at least one to give a purpose to this blog and possibly give it a future. 

Let’s say my story started the moment I created this “secret blog”. I know, I know, there are plenty of important defining moments before I created this blog, and for all intents and purposes, those can all be my prequels. But the actual start of my mind library, or memoirs-to-myself (get the blog name? My mind’s been secretly planning this for years) is February 2, 2012. Excellent, now we have a starting point for my first book. And it just so happens be the starting point of this blog, oh my goodness, how convenient. 

You might be asking yourself, “Hey Zach, How does this book series metaphor even work?” and I say, excellent question, trusted friend and/or future Zach! (Thanks for playing along buddy) I think of the “series” as my entire life, from start to finish, the “books” are the major stages of my life, possibly as childhood, adulthood, and retirement for example, “chapters” to being long stretches of time, “pages” being big moments on a smaller scale. That’s normally how I structure my life as I think back on it. I know, I’m a weird one, right?     

But why start the books here, almost 17 years into my life already? Well, this is around the time I believe I started thinking for myself and becoming my own person. The start of who I am today, so to speak. However, I know I’ll want to chronicle the 16 years prior, and for that, I’ll probably view that as my prequel or backstory, if you will, so it stills stays within my book series motif. That story is for another time though, because I need to get to my point and I’ve already spent 45 MINUTES (oh my god) writing this part up and I don’t think i’m even close to done. 

God have mercy.

The point being is that I believe the first book of my life is over. And if this blog is all a representation of that, then it is a poor one. I would like to fill in some gaps, clarify a few moments and memories that need proper spotlight. After all, I didn’t know I was in some of the best times of my life. And some of my worst. How could I? I want to use this blog as a library of sorts for my memories for as long as I can, and to do that, I need to redo the chronicling of my first book “The World Can Be Tricked”. Hence the ReDUX in the name of the title. This post will be a timeline of sorts of the important events that happened in that book. Everything before this post was written from me from the perspective of that book. This a retelling of the events after time has past. I plan to do these for all my “books” as a therapeutic way to reminisce and grow.

So without further ado, Let’s ReDUX:

2012- Wow. What a year. ZachZachMoore at his finest. I actually take back what I said earlier, this is a great place to start my story. The year I turned 17, the height of my high school career, the year I thought I fell in love. Already best friends with Jeffrey, Bloo at the time. Thats when I met Alex, Duff, Satiel, and even Kieth. Being a teenager was wild. Back then, I was still heavily involved with my youth group, wanted to be a youth pastor, was Prof. Plum in Clue, star performer in show choir, and was section leader when our marching band did Mechanize, the most successful show DCHS ever put on. It’s the year I became a senior, which is eventful on it’s own. Minecraft came out, friends had cars. It’s also the year where I didn’t get a lead in my last musical but all my theater friends did, the year I got my heart broken, and the year I started smoking pot. A year of beginnings alright and the peak of my teenage years. I had no idea where my rollercaster life was going, but I knew I was on top of the peak. You can say I was not ready for the first loop

2013- The first month of 2013 of was pretty normal. I was transiting from PC gaming from my ancient XP (rip sims 3) to modern (ish) console gaming due to my new XBox 360 and 3DS. My terrible school future had a light at the end of the tunnel, with moving going to the DEC, giving me a easy way to catch up on  credits and not having to be at school all day. Things were looking good for me. Then Mom and I lost our home. Due to new management, and my mom having a terrible payment plan with the old management, we were evicted on the spot, had 24 hours to move. It was traumatic to say the least. I had lived there for over 7 years, it was the closest thing I had to a childhood home, that and my grandparents house. And in a night, it was gone. I didn’t even get to truly say goodbye. After that, Mom and I moved in with Grandma Judy, and Aunt Tami. It was not ideal. I kind of just shut down the rest of the school year after that. I barely talked to my family, started partying when I could, slacked off on my studies, lost faith in my religion (found Danganronpa and Nico B, but didn’t fully engage in them. Yet) . And then I was 18, laying in a dorm bed at Olivet Nazarene University for Celebrate Life 2013. I was laying there, thinking about my future. If things went as I had planned up to this point, then by this time next year, I would be laying here. but as a student, in the next stage of my life. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel right. Then I had graduated. I still missing some credits but I essentially scammed my way through and got a diploma anyway. That marks the start of the summer of 2013, my post graduate summer. Yes, I got fucked up. That was also the start of the Dope Fam, a collection of friends we had in school and just people that were in our class. They taught us to smoke cigs, party hard, and “trip” on triple C’s. Bad influences to be sure but hey. So were we. Then, on July 19th, I had on of the worst experinces of my life. I refer to it as the incident, and I plan on giving it a whole post in itself at some point. For now, now it was a “bad trip” of sorts, and it truly terrified me to the core. This whole first book is about me transitioning for a child to an adult, but this moment truly gave me a head start. It is definitely the start of my depression, even if I didn’t know it at the time. Moving on, this cycle of partying and staying at Papaws continued all throughout the year, I even practically moved in during the fall. But by the end of the year, I was back at my Grandmas, with my mom

2014- Once again, the start of the year was pretty much the same as last year. There wasn’t a real change til around April, when I officially moved into Papaw’s camper with Jeffrey, and started working with him in Landscaping. That lasted until it didn’t. We had sorta moved out of Papaw’s at that point, and were staying at a value hotel, when we weren’t partying at D-Mo’s, but without jobs, we couldn’t afford to stay there anymore. We stayed at Alex’s a bit, starting the three of us calling each goons (showed us death note, started my love on anime), re found Danganronpa and binged it to it’s sequel, securing my taste in Japanese storytelling, bought my iphone 5s, my first phone I 100% bought for myself, and moved into Jennifer’s garage in Ingalls in the middle of the summer, in the middle of nowhere, to the point where I didn’t get service for my new phone. At this point, Alex got us a Job working at the Marriott. Satiel worked there also. Around September, my depression was in full swing and I was convinced I was going to die at 19 because I was going to kill myself (Only thing that stopped myself was that I haven’t played KH3). Dark times indeed. Jeffrey wasn’t faring too hot either, with every girl under the sun taking advantage of him. He even got a cat, Jamenson. We needed a change or we were going to suffocate. So we did. On the final days of November, Jeffrey and I moved into our first apartment together, off of Ditch Road, at the Northwest Retreat, bare bones and broke as fuck, referred to now as “THE apartment”. We viewed it at the start of a new chapter. We had no idea how right we were

2015 Part 1: Part 1? As if this wasn’t long enough?!?! I’m sorry, but there’s such a drastic shift in my life in the middle of 2015 that I have to split it up. It’s also a good place to visualize the middle of my first book, so that’s a plus. Anyway, sometime in January, Eric started working at the Marriott. We befriended him immediately (Do you smoke? Smoke What?) and invited him over to the apartment. We quickly learned that his best friend named Richie lived in the same apartment and also invited him over. This is the start of the Goon Squad, a pre-evolution of the family I have now. For the majority of the first half of the year, Alex, Eric, Rico, Satiel, Jeffrey, and I spent our days chilling and smoking, not giving a damn about anything. This is when we decided we all true friends for each other. But working at the Marriott was brutal, non rewarding, and ridiculous and after 8 months, I caved and quit, promising a new job. After awhile, everyone quit, Alex moved in for a month, and we partied even harder. But we dropped all responsibilities, started acting like kids again. At this point in my depression, I was convinced I was trash and didn’t have a personal reason to exist in this world, except for KH3, which wasn’t much. So I just ran with my life at that moment, living for the Goon Squad. It was enough for me so I didn’t think of the Consequences. And so, in July, we were evicted from THE apartment. Jeffrey moved back to his mom’s. And I, along with Jamenson, who I essentially adopted at that point, moved back to mine, who had gotten a small one bedroom apartment, and had poor communication with me, which was all my fault, due to me being upset that all of my childhood belongings were lost, which was also my fault really. It was not a good time. Then it was June.

2015 Part 2: My mom asks me to get a job. I pretend to try and don’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything, for anyone. I felt abandoned by the very people I started to live for, though I now imagined they felt the same way. My relationship with my mom had changed  drastically with me being 19, and I hadn’t felt fully comfortable with that change, let alone living with alcoholism again. I couldn’t enjoy any of my interests anymore, and I had no reason to move forward, even to help my mom, which I knew was selfish and I punished myself for it, causing an endless cycle of self hate. My depression was in full swing again. My friends weren’t faring better. Eric and Rico could barely show up to all our gatherings when we could have them, so they felt as if they were being forgotten. Satiel thought we were all moving on, Alex felt like a cheafur, I felt abandoned, and Jeffrey felt so thrown away, he dated the worst girl alive. ugh. Then Jeffrey got sick. Very sick. It was very possible he could die. It brought us to our senses that we were being petty and needed to come together. It was frightening and eye opening. When Jeffrey woke up, we all promised again to always be there for each other. I felt like things were looking up. The next night, I watched my grandma die. Yeah. The next night. My family was a mess of emotions. I could barely feel a thing. As I've stated, I sort just shut down when I can’t process things. That wasn’t an option this time, as I had my mother to think about. So I only turned off part of myself, except I don’t know if I ever turned it back on again. I’ve never enjoyed celebrating my birthday after that, since they’re so close. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over it. I don’t know if I ever will. My mom got some money back and wanted to do something great with it, so at least something positive can come out of this dark time. So, she fulfilled my long time childhood dream of owning a laptop. With that, I was back into the PC world. To be strong for my mom, I knew I had to sort something out with myself. so I found new interests, mainly Danganronpa and Nico B, learning that I can be passionate about something nerdy and not be alone, raising my spirits greatly. At this point, Jeffrey broke it off with {nameredacted} and moved in with me and my mom, and we all started moving forward again.

2016 - Oh boy. I knew 2016 was one of the books when I was living it but hot damn, this might be the best year of my life so far. So many good memories, friend building, family making, litest time ever. It’s the year Jeffrey met Krista, Rico met Rachael, Alex found Nico, Duff officially joined the group, Keith came back for a bit, Taylor showed up in our lives, I turned 21, and so, so, many snapchats. Raccoon Lake, Duff’s garage, Rico’s parents house, Alex’s car in my parking lot. We all hung out as much as we could. 2015 is when we became friends, a squad. 2016 is when we became family. So many memories that I could go on and on and on. Zero Time Dilemma came out that year. Nico played Kingdom Hearts and fell in love. I found Steins;Gate, arguably the greatest story ever written. 2016 wasn’t without it’s bad though. I still couldn’t keep a job, and I wasn’t doing my mom any favors by letting her take care of me. 2016 was the year I “dated” Cheyenne and stopped looking for something romantic, feeling that it wasn’t for me. I was so caught up in trying to like my life again, I didn’t realize the sacrifices people were making for me to even get the time to think about it. Alas, I was blissfully ignorant, living in the glow of 21-ness. The year passed with no real page turners. Just good memories.

2017- Kingdom Hearts 2.8 is coming out, the final piece of the puzzle before Kingdom Hearts 3. I need a PS4 to play both, so I guilt trip my drunk mom to buy me one, even though she definitely couldn’t afford it. At this point, I was still feeling like my mom still owned me something due to her alcoholism in my life, without realizing that even if that was true, she had paid that due and i was practically stealing from her at this point. Not gonna lie, I was kind of a shit this year. I just couldn’t see it at the time. With my PS4, I could play with mostly all the Goons, starting the co-oping time of my gaming life, directly leading me to Paragon, starting my competitive part of my gaming life, which I was sorely behind on. I was working warehouse to warehouse to appease my mom but not staying long enough to actually help her at all. Triple C’s weren’t cutting it anymore so Rico and I tried Acid, and Jeffrey and Krista tried Molly and we shared our results with the class. We finally found our party drug, and I finally got some closure on the incident. Jeffrey and Krista moved in together, after he proposed to her, and we made it our new trip central. I started streaming my gameplay and actually giving serious thought towards a future career in gaming. Then, in October, my mom and I got into a fight. A really bad one. I named it “The fight that ended” and I’ll probably explain that name and the event in detail in a later post. For now, It was a fight that made us realize that we couldn’t live together anymore. “We weren’t good for each other” she said. So she threw me out. Jeffrey and Krista took a shattered me back to their place. They said I could stay there but their lease was up in a month  so we would all have to make quick plans. I knew at this point that I had changed into something I didn’t want to be, someone that hurt the ones he loved. That had to change. And now was a good as time as ever. So, the Goons made plans to move in together. And by plans, I mean threw all their chips in the pot and hoped for a flush. I got seriously employed, sold my laptop so I could have move in money, hardened myself for the journey. I was still shook from the fight with my mom but I had to grow so I stopped feeling and just moved. Through some divine power, we got our wish, and on November 22, Duff, Alex, Rico, Jeffrey, Krista, and I moved into the “Goon Pent”, a penthouse apartment in Castleton. A dream we all shared since THE apartment, had finally been realized. We were at an all time high, we were adults and we were making it work, together. After a rocky end, we were looking towards the future with hopeful eyes.

2018 - For the first 3 months of our lease, everything was cream and peaches. We all had jobs we were serious about, we were drinking or tripping every weekend  in our own place, we kept the place clean and every one was one their own shit, Alex started dating Shelby, we even re branded the Goon Squad, to Goon Tang Clan, adding more members and friends we made along the years. Then I had an observed pee test which I couldn’t do, quit my job as a result, and wound up in the same place mentally as I was 3 months prior. I realized I hadn’t changed at all and in a cycle of self hate, I started doing the same thing I was doing at my mom’s: nothing. Duff fell into the same strut, Rico had an unreliable job, Krista and Jeffrey couldn’t find a job they could tolerate so they sold pot to make up the difference, which was also unreliable, making Alex having to cover the differences all the time. Things were starting crack, figuratively and literally, as we learned out penthouse wasn’t so luxurious as it was made out to be. We learned that while we were all great friends, we weren’t the greatest roommates to each other. We distracted ourselves with a month long stream, Taylor moving in, Paragon’s death, but by May, we were starting to get shitty with each. Me really getting shitty with me, cause at this point I had pawned all my stuff, and owned all my friends money. I had nothing to show for it and it was my birthday soon? No. I’ve had enough of doing nothing to just do something for a little while to make me feel better to just quit. I wanted to be someone my friends could depend  on, after all the time I had depended on them. I didn’t need to be some superstar person to be of use to them. Even if I was a shitty person, I could still do this. I realized this world can be tricked, that I could have issues and still make it through life. And so, for the first time in a long time, and truly did something. On the eve of my 23rd birthday, I got employed and worked all summer. I cleaned up the house without compliant. I helped others with bills and help found jobs for others. I paid back all my debts and got my PS4 back, albeit with no games, forcing me to truly build a gaming library all by myself with no ties to my mother, I was never late or missed a day at work during that time, using my self hatred as fuel to work hard. In the summer of 2018, I finally changed for the better. Then we got some huge news: Rico was going to be a dad. So Rico moved out (though he’s over allllll the time), Shelby moved in, and we all agreed to one more year here, making the end of the lease in December 2019. In September, we were doing we but I was starting to get tired of cleaning all the time. My self hatred could only take me so far and it had died down quite a bit over the summer. It’s hard to be depressed when you’re always busy and actually tired. Though Kingdom Hearts 3 delay to January didn’t help any. The house was being divided though, with me on all sides. It was going to blow to a head soon so I tried to mitigate everything I could. From Duff’s Alcoholism, to Krista’s friends being over ( Newdell is the only important one to note), To Eric just being over, we were complaining about everything. It was at this point that I fully realized that our dream of living together, had an expiration date. This great moment of my life was starting to end. On Christmas that year, I was left wondering where would that leave me? I wasn’t afraid of the Squad breaking up, but if we all moved forward right now, what would I do? Could I exist on my own? And then it was

2019- I stare at my TV screen, the timer on it draining ever so slowly. Less than 5 minutes were on it but it might as well been years. Funny, considering how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, how long could 5 more minutes be. Very long in fact. Long enough to rethink your whole life to moment. It was 11:56 PM on January 28th, 2019. 4 minutes til Kingdom Hearts 3 was out. I had called off for this. I didn’t know it at the time but I was going to be temporarily fired for this. My friends were sitting in my room with me. They weren’t caught up on Kingdom Hearts but they were to watch me react. I’ve been waiting for this game for over a decade. I stayed alive for this game. I existed these past 7 years for this one wish, to play this game. In 3 minutes, that dream will come true. And I was terrified. For some reasons, understandable. Will I enjoy playing it, Will my favorite characters survive, Will it live up to all it’s hype. All rational fears to be sure. But one was screaming louder than the others. What now? All my life, I hadn’t have many personal goals for myself, choosing to live for others rather than myself. But with everyone slowly moving on without me, I have to learn to have hopes for myself. However, the few childhood dreams I had, I had already achieved. I found a family where I could be myself. I got my laptop, found nerdy games, moved in with the goons. The only one left was about to be delivered in 2 minutes to my PS4. “Are you excited?” someone says. “Yeah, I’m speechless” I stammered out, not quite a lie but no where near the whole truth. Am I excited? It’s the end of an era. End being the key word. I realized that I can no longer call myself a child anymore. I was an adult. What does that mean? A minute left of this time, this moment. How do I feel? What do I do now? Can I live on with everyone on my own strength. Am I strong enough? It was then I noticed my phone was buzzing. An alarm was going off. It was for the release of Kingdom Hearts 3. It was out. Before I could even blink, the moment was gone. I existed post Kingdom Hearts 3 world now. A world I never thought of living in. The song I chose for the alarm was reaching it’s chorus. I had a choice here, a choice that’s been present this entire first book. To finally move forward and change, or return to endless cycle that will doom me. It’s never been much of a choice. Either I stay in this moment pretending it’s perfect or I live to beat of the song thats been playing. To face your fears. I turn off the alarm and turn towards my PS4, with KH3 waiting to be played. A choice to make here. “Well are you going to press play?” 

Not much of a choice at all

I faced my fears and pressed play

Ending “The World Can Tricked”

A book on how I learned to face my fears: myself 

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

It was nearly 12 weeks since I first ran into the keys, and while things got weirder as I learned more about their world, school was getting more stressful. I’m enrolled in the International Baccalaureate program, and for anyone who has earned their diploma, they will understand how stressful it is.

Today was Wednesday, which meant that classes ended at 3.15pm for me, and instead of going home, I decided to stay in school and get some work done. I was on a roll, which for me meant that my ADHD brain was in a productive mode and I didn’t want to waste it. I was working on my Theory of Knowledge essay, and I was so exhausted after an hour and 45 minutes that I felt dizzy. Enough for now, I told myself. I’ll go home and either do more tonight or take a break.

Earlier today, I had acted up and jumped up and down in front of the class when the maths teacher (who happened to be the key of D major) returned our fortnight test scores. My class was taking Higher Level mathematics, and since it was a hard class, D major decided that frequent practice would help us in dealing with this class. Every two weeks, we would have a short quiz with 3-5 questions. That might not sound like a lot, but we always had new content to cover, and each question had many parts to it. This time, I had done fairly well by my standards, which were lower than most of the class since I struggled in school due to my ADHD. For me, getting 60% and above was an achievement, especially if I did not take my meds. I scored 67% for today’s test, and my impulsivity led me to jump excitedly in the air for a few seconds while the rest of the class stared at me. I apologised and returned to my seat, feeling heat radiating from my face. D major glanced at me sympathetically before continuing with the lesson. The whole class knew about my condition, however, that didn’t stop the stares. After that, during lunch, some of my classmates started laughing at me. I stormed out of the classroom, while my friend Erica accompanied me and tried to comfort me. “It’s okay,” she said. “They don’t understand what it’s like, and they need to feel better about themselves, so they’ll find anything weird to laugh at. You’re awesome, Raf. You’ll always be cool to me.” I didn’t believe her.

The anger and sadness that I would not be normal and not fit in with my classmates stayed with me until I finally went home. As I made my way out of the school building, I saw a couple of my classmates ahead of me, walking alone. I decided to avoid them and purposely walked slower than my usual walking speed. As I walked past the shopping mall next to my school, I saw a familiar figure walking towards me. F major.

He spoke in his kind and gentle voice. “Hey, Rafaela.”

“Hi,” I mumbled. I wasn’t in any mood to talk, but with F major, I felt my mood begin to lighten. “Any reason you’re here today?”

“A major was supposed to be here today, but she was busy talking to A minor, so here I am. I think she’s coming here soon, though, so I’m free to leave.”

“So...what are your plans for later? I’m supposed to have dinner at home, but my mother and I had an argument this morning, and I don’t really feel like going home.” As I spoke, I continued walking towards the train station.

“Won’t your parents get mad? Not like I really had them myself, but when we were in our early stages, before the Baroque era, people took care of us. I guess that’s my closest understanding to what you call parents.” I turned to look at F major in amazement.

“I didn’t know you existed that far back,” I remarked. Suddenly, I had a craving for Starbucks, and since there was an outlet at the mall next to my school, I found my feet pointing in that direction. “I have a sudden craving for Starbucks,” I announced. “Don’t mind me.” In reality, I was secretly hoping F major would come along. I just loved having him around.

“How about a treat?” he said.

“No way,” I replied. “I...can’t expect free stuff from other people. Or...um...you know what I mean.” Did F major count as a person when most of the world didn’t know he existed?

He smiled. “I’m having a meeting with F minor there, anyway. You could come say hi.”

“What? F minor?”

“...yes?” F major looked confused. 

“I met her before, only that I didn’t know that then. She was my swimming coach,” I explained.

“I’m not surprised,” he admitted. “C major probably set that up. He’s in charge of most of us, in the sense that he assigns our groups for working together, or plans where we go to find synaesthetes. I mean specifically people with ordinal linguistic personification, but the musical form.”

By this time, we were at Starbucks. I looked around and saw my former swimming coach sitting at a low table, looking athletic as ever. She was looking at the door as we walked in, and she smiled. I ran over to her and gave her a hug. “It’s been a while,” I said. “We’ve met a couple of times, since then, but these were hurried and we didn’t get to talk much.”

F minor smiled at me, and in that instant, I suddenly saw how similar she and F major were to each other. The vibe they were both giving off was powerful, and I suddenly felt ready to face my classmates again, only that I’d have to wait until tomorrow. 

“I told her she could come say hi,” F major said. “I wonder, what if you had been her piano teacher instead?”

“You what?” My voice went up.  “You’re a piano teacher as well?!”

“Maybe you could sit in with us, Rafaela,” F minor invited. “Unless you need to go home. I don’t want to keep your parents waiting.”

Are you kidding, I thought. I got to spend some times with my favourite key and his parallel minor, who had been my swimming coach and whom I liked very much as well.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I just need to be home by 10PM.” 

“Are you sure?” F major said. “We don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “So...what are the two of you discussing today?”

F minor laughed, a familiar sound I didn’t realise I missed. “Before we get into that, let’s buy something so it doesn’t look like we’re hogging the space.” She waved me towards F major. “Choose anything you want.”

“No!” I protested, as I followed F major to the counter. “I’m paying for my order myself.”

“Well, you can choose to do that and still have a free drink that you may or may not like, or you can choose to tell me what you want and let me pay for it, and save your money in the process, not to mention the effort put in by the baristas to make your drink,” F major said. 

“Hey, that’s unfair. I...”

“So which is it, Rafaela?” F major smiled. “You can choose.”

I realised I wasn’t going to win. “Fine, I’ll have a grande chocolate chip frappe with whipped cream. Thanks,” I said. I fought the urge to hug him. What was it with me and F major?

We walked back to our table after getting our orders, and the two F-based keys sat next to each other, opposite me. I wondered if we looked like family where the kid was having a treat with her parents after school. For a moment, I wished that they were my family.

“On Saturday, we will be waiting around the library near the concert hall,” F major said. “You have classes in the morning, so you’ll come after you’re done. If nothing happens, we just update C major with what happened via electronic means and move on with the next step. If something happens, let’s say, a fight with one of those officials, we call for backup. I’ll have A major and D minor with me if we need them.”

F minor nodded. “I’ll have A-flat major and D-flat major join us too, if we need them.”

“Hold up,” I interrupted. “Officials? Back up? And two flat major keys with lots of flats as backup?”

F minor grinned. “I’m sure F major has explained to you that there are officials who are stifling expressions of creativity and emotion, and classical music is among the targets. As such, these guys often attack musicians, to intimidate them, and that’s why they need us to help them. In a way, we too need them, because it takes us and them to work together to keep classical music going, and in turn, emotion will remain here. Other art forms have their own fighters too, though we don’t know much of them. We wouldn’t know if, for example, there are personified colours walking around, doing similar jobs as us, but for painters and other visual artists. Sometimes, when we’re engaged in a fight with one of them, occasionally to defend a musician, we find that there are more of them we can handle. So that’s where the backup comes in, typically consisting of the trios we are assigned to. The tonic of F major’s trio makes up the D minor triad: D minor, F major, and A major. Mine is the D-flat major triad: D-flat major, me, and A-flat major. If we’re lucky, we have our relative keys in the same triad as us, but it’s not necessary. Sometimes we go out in different groups, if C major wishes to switch things up a little. Once, he even sent out pairs that formed tritones.”

F major grimaced. “I was in one of those pairs. I had to work with B minor, and the tension that was constantly there was exhausting to navigate. We nearly ended up yelling at each other.”

“Wow,” I wheezed. “So what’s with F minor’s triad? I mean, I kinda expected you to be in a triad of a different key, like your own.”

F major glanced at F minor and smiled mischievously. “You might not believe it, but F minor is so strong and fierce that D-flat major and A-flat major were chosen to calm her down sometimes. You remember that F minor is the mediant key of D-flat major, and A-flat major is the relative. Since both keys are flat keys and relatively calm, they were selected as the perfect balance for fiery F minor. C major didn’t want another flat minor key to be with her in the same group, since that would be too intense, and other triads should get a flat minor if possible. Anyway, F minor called for backup once, but by the time D-flat major and A-flat major arrived, her opponents, yes, two of them, had run away. In a different scenario, though, F minor might have really needed the backup. F minor and her companions use different strategies to fight, and how D-flat major and A-flat major fight. These two can fight like F minor, but they are much better at calming the opponent down until they are in no mood to fight. Sometimes the opponent may even become sleepy when battling D-flat major and A-flat major, since music in these keys is often calming. ”

“Clair de Lune by Debussy,” I said. “And Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 142, No. 2. Well, at least the opening is calming, anyway.”

“Usually the first 20 measures or so, including repeats, suffice when generating the emotion or mood required. And also, when it comes to my assigned triad, people often expect these two keys to be tranquil and not worth paying attention to in a fight, but these two use that perception of them to their advantage.”

“Any chance I’d meet them soon?” I asked. “I’ve already met you two, D minor, and A major. And I’ve seen A minor once in public, but she was busy talking to A major, and then she left. I don’t think A minor even knew I was there.”

“Let’s hope that time doesn’t come soon, because that would mean things are getting bad. And I have to go, since I have a swimming class at 6.30pm,” F minor said. I glanced at my watch - it was 5.45pm. 

Suddenly my mind went back to those weekend evenings when I had swimming class that lasted for one and a half hours. I hated the backstroke, because I kept crashing into the lane ropes and occasionally whacking my hand on the concrete at the end of the lane. Sometimes I’d even swim into another swimmer’s feet, since I was on my back and couldn’t see them. And the double arm butterfly stroke was tiring, but it was amazing to be able to do, and hold my breath for 4 or more kicks. “I miss those days,” I said. “Sometimes I want to go back to the past.”

“We all have these feelings, kid,” F major said. “But focusing on the present is what’s important, and maybe the future.”

“I’ve gotta go. See you soon,” F minor waved goodbye as she walked away. 

I was alone with F major. “So...that was it? I felt like most of it was explaining things to me rather than the two of you actually discussing your plans.”

“Honestly, it was just to make sure we were both up to date on our plans. Usually, we only spend a few minutes planning, and then we spend the rest of the time bonding together, which is important since this new order is trying to destroy our bonds and return everything to a dull, emotionless state, which includes the use of atonality specially engineered for this purpose. I’m aware that not all atonality is emotionless, but the kind we’re facing in recent years most certainly is, and that’s what we’re fighting against. We can’t let society, even the non-musicians, go to that state. Like F minor said, we’re indirectly working together with the other art forms. Professionals in their respective artistic fields are also up to the task of defending their art forms.”

“That’s sad. Having to defend yourself, I mean,” I said. This reminded me of constantly defending myself from bullies, teachers who didn’t understand my ADHD, and even my own parents sometimes. With F minor gone, I suddenly dreaded the thought of going to school tomorrow. I was tempted to make myself sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school for a valid reason, then I remembered I had a consultation regarding my music essay at 1.15pm tomorrow. And then I started thinking about my other subjects as well, kind of like playing “6 degrees of Kevin Bacon” but with the thoughts in my mind.

Before I knew it, I was tearing up. I realised F major was looking at me with concern in his eyes, but I was too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. “I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Just stressed about school. I have this critical thinking essay, a music essay I have a consultation for tomorrow, I need to study for mathematics, and I have a lab session for chemistry on Friday.” At this point, I was crying. “I like chemistry, but the lab sessions are so stressful. I always misread the instructions, I have to repeat my experiments, and then my data is different from everyone else’s. And then writing the lab report is hard, and my teacher gets mad at me for not keeping up.”

“Here.” F major handed me a paper handkerchief. I took it, and then I moved from my seat to where F minor had sat just now, so that I was next to F major. I wished he would hug me, but maybe he didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. Or maybe he was worried about what other people might think if they saw a grown man hugging an unrelated girl, even though we both knew it would be innocuous.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “ADHD is a bitch to have. It ruins my academic success and my social life.”

F major patted my head sympathetically. “I know,” he said. “A major and D minor both told me.”

My phone buzzed, and when I checked it, it was a text from my father. He had had a meeting in town, and since he was near my school, he wanted to know if I needed a ride home since he knew I sometimes stayed back to study. I’m at the Starbucks next to my school with a friend, I texted back.

Stay there, my dad replied. Apparently, he needed to buy something and it was available at the mall where I was right now. He would buy whatever it was, then he would come to Starbucks to get me. After that, we would walk to the car together.

“My dad’s coming here soon, in around twenty to thirty minutes,” I told F major. I felt the tears drying. “Sorry for all of that, by the way. It’s just...being who I am makes life hard. Sometimes it’s the thought of you guys that makes me excited for the next day when I’d see one of you again.”

F major almost looked sad. At that moment, I realised how sad F major could be, especially for a major key. Did he ever reach D minor levels of sadness?

“Guess who I’ve heard that line from,” he said. “You two sound eerily alike sometimes, especially when you’re sad, or in her case, severely depressed.”

“Hey now, I’m not depressed. I have ADHD, which is not depression.” 

“I’m no psychiatrist, but ADHD and depression can and do occur together,” F major said. “Sometimes depression comes as an effect of dealing with ADHD, especially in an unsupportive environment, and sometimes it’s there by itself, independent of ADHD. What I mean is, having ADHD doesn’t mean you’re immune from depression. Quite the opposite, actually. There’s a higher risk of having depression as a co-morbid condition if you have ADHD.”

“Damn,” I said. “I really hope I do not have it. Having ADHD is bad enough, I do not need to have to deal with depression too.”

“My relative minor deals with depression, and that’s who I meant when I said you two sound eerily similar when you’re sad,” F major said. I felt a jolt go through me at the mention of D minor.

“Is..she okay?” I demanded, forgetting about my own problems. 

“I think you should focus on yourself for now,” F major replied, avoiding giving me an answer, which made me suspicious. “You’re very kind, Rafaela, but worrying too much about others isn’t going to do you and your grades any favours. I’m sure you’re managing well at school, and now isn’t the time to uproot all of that, especially when you’ve worked so hard for your grades. ADHD can make school even harder, and I want you to do well.”

I glanced at my watch. At least 15 more minutes until my dad came. “That’s not an answer,” I said, fiddling with the used paper handkerchief which was soaked with my tears from minutes ago. “D minor is my friend like you are, and I’m worried for her the same way I’d be worried for you if you were in that position.”

“You sure you want to waste your energy worrying about something you can’t control?” F major said. “We’ve been around since the start of classical music history, our early days were during the Renaissance period, and you’re 17. We’ve been handling our issues much longer than you’ve been handling your own.”

I was comfortable being with F major that I had nearly forgotten he wasn’t just an older adult I felt safe with.

“When you put it that way...I guess I should just trust that you have things sorted out. But you’re still affected by human experiences, and some of them can be horrible to go through.”

At that moment, I started thinking about what had happened earlier today and how my classmates had laughed at me. I felt myself freeze, and a cold nervous feeling spread from my stomach to the rest of my internal organs. It was the same feeling I got when the teacher was about to hand back test papers and the announcement before the return of the papers was that some students did really badly. More often that not, I was one of those students. I inhaled deeply.

F major stared out the window, watching people walk by for a few seconds before speaking. He almost looked wistful. “I would know about that. I’ve gone through some of that myself.”

I looked at him. “Like what?”

“Let’s just say that some people, apart from those officials we are always up against, don’t like me, and while that’s fine, the problem is that sometimes I’ve been decked in public because of that. It helps that I can defend myself, but the emotional impact sure gets me. And that makes me worry that if something like that were to happen to D minor, I can’t protect her since I’d likely be attacked myself. I know F minor’s fine, it’s my relative minor I’ve always been afraid I can’t protect.” 

I wondered if F major was aware that his voice had gotten sadder as he spoke. In a way, he almost reminded me of D minor. I thought it was sweet of him, to worry about his loved ones even when he himself was in trouble.

“I’ve noticed you seem pretty sad for a major key,” I said. 

“Again, you’re not the first person to say that to me. D minor said that to me once, when we were discussing how sometimes, after a fight, she would find me knocked out. She said that it kinda shook her since I’m supposed to be the protective one among the two of us.”

“Do relative majors always do the protecting in a relative pair of keys?” I asked.

“You’ve forgotten about F minor,” F major said, with a hint of a smile. “She does most of the fighting, while A-flat major keeps the opponent in a calm and restful mood.”

I mentally cursed myself for forgetting how powerful F minor was, and assuming that she as a minor key depended on A-flat major for protection. “Right,” I said. “F minor and A-flat major seem like the odd pair where the minor appears to be stronger and more active than the major.”

“I think the same could be said of G major and E minor, but they’re so different in personality I think they’re happy to work in different triads.”

At that moment, I looked up past F major’s face and saw my dad walking through the door, looking for me. I stood up and yelled across the café, ignoring the stares. My dad smiled when he saw me, and when he saw F major sitting next to where I was standing, he looked confused. He walked over to us.

“Hi, Raf. I hope you were productive today,” my dad said, as he ruffled my hair affectionately. I did not introduce F major and my dad to each other, since my dad didn’t know anything about music apart from note names. However, my dad had other ideas.

“Hi, I’m Rafaela’s dad,” he said, smiling to F major. “I’m assuming you’re her friend?”

Whoops. I had no idea how F major planned to introduce himself to my non-musical, non-synaesthetic dad. Even if my dad only knew music theory but didn’t have synaesthesia, this situation would have been a lot less awkward. What human name should I give F major for this situation? If it had been D minor here with me now, I’d just call her Re and my dad would think her name was Rae/Ray/Rey or one of those spellings, though probably a more feminine one. (I’m aware that Ray/Rey are more likely to be used on a guy.) “Hi,” F major said, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re right, I’m her friend. She was productive today.”

“That’s great,” my dad said distractedly. “Hope you’re doing well in school,” he added, as he turned away and started walking. I realised that 1. my dad was only being polite and he didn’t really have any interest in talking as he was stressed about work, and 2. he thought F major was my classmate, or at least my schoolmate. I felt relief spread throughout my body. I turned around and waved to F major, who looked amazing. Fluffy layered brown hair that was shorter than shoulder-length, soft blue eyes set in a pale face, lean shoulders...and as he stood up, I suddenly noticed how tall he was, which somehow I had never noticed before. He was a head taller than me. F major looked like the kind of European guys I was always staring at. For some reason, I found that kind of face pleasant to look at, but I had never felt any attachment to the people whose faces they were as I didn’t get to know them personally, but this was different. I knew F major. As I followed my dad to the carpark, I wondered what it was like, charging into battle with F major against those officers who tried to stifle the arts. And maybe grabbing a coffee afterward, watching the sunset.