#except I am trying to save up money so it is a nuisance

[ehlnofay]

OH MY GOD I'm a fucking dumbass

[decafdoodlez]

hiiii i hope you are doing well ✨ you never failed to serve us good content ✨🌸 since marina has many siblings, it makes me wonder what's her relationship to them and her parents (did they try to find her once she ended up missing?did someone give them money to give/shut up?) i also wanna know what kind of friend marina is (ugh i cant help to imagine that if she has a best friend and is trying their best to find her but end up getting more lost track because of fox influence ahhh the angst)

Hi there!

Thank you! 🤍 I am doing good, sorry I took a second to answer this, been trying to finish up stuff for work, haha. Hope you are doing well as well. :3c 🤍

This is such an interesting question, and a perfect Rina lore drop opportunity, hehe~

CW: (slight mention of child abuse/neglect)

Marina’s family life is dysfunctional to say the least. Her father is a gambling addict and notorious womanizer/unfaithful partner, and her mother is very much an emotionally absent force in her life, always barred out on pills, lounging about their abode like a brainless zombie. Her siblings aren’t the most present people in her life as well. Marina’s entire immediate family works under her father in real estate, all except for Marina.

Some context, Marina is from a previously affluent and well-off family. Her father is a land baron, and builds homes and business buildings across North America. Her father is married to her mother, but in a loveless way, frequently cheating on her and leaving her by herself for extended periods. Marina’s father had lost all of their family fortune some months before Marina was kidnapped, and was “sold” to work under Mr. Goffard (woundfucker) in exchange for a loan to reinvigorate his business, saving him from total financial collapse. Marina did not know fully that she was sold, but she had a good suspicion that may had been the case, knowing how shady her father is.

As you mentioned above, yes Marina is one of 6 siblings! She is the baby of the family, and has quite the age gap between her and her oldest sister, who is 38. The rest of her siblings (brothers) are in their 30s, so due to the age gap, she wasn’t really close to them as a child. Most of them thought of her as a nuisance child and didn’t pay much attention to her, except for her oldest brother, who is now deceased and has been for 17 years. Marina’s father killed her oldest brother after he found out he was physically beating little Marina, and covered up the death as a freak accident. Marina’s mother also knew about her beatings, but didn’t do anything to help, since she wanted to keep her marriage with Marina’s father intact. So needless to say, Marina’s relationship with her parents is not a positive one.

Marina’s new job was across the country, so her going missing was not really noticed until she couldn’t be reached by her mother, who would call her on occasion. When Marina went missing, there was a short effort to find her led by her family in the weeks she endured the torture streams and after she was kept, but the search ended shortly thereafter when Marina’s father was anonymously tipped off that she was “dead.” The tipster (an entity hired by Fox) threatened to divulge all secrets to the media and authorities at large regarding his misdoings such as selling his daughter, engaging in affairs during the course of his marriage, tax evasion, beating his youngest daughter, and killing his oldest son if he continued the search for her. To sweeten the deal, the tipster arranged a handsome sum of money to buy his silence, to which he graciously accepted.

Marina is now presumed dead legally.

—

Now for the friend portion of this ask, Marina is a girl who doesn’t have many meaningful friendships. Despite having a large family, she was a very lonely child. Her group of friends she has are snarky rich types who are obsessed with ego and image. This group of friends has been with her since college, and have always made Marina the butt of their jokes, poking fun at her nerdy hobbies, her lack of relationships/sexual escapades, and her dysfunctional family. One friend out of this group is a bit more mean than the others, and honestly just enjoys breaking Marina down to establish her dominance over her. This friend is also one who watches Fox’s gore streams, and has inside knowledge of his auctions. When there was a profile of a new product that was desired by three top bidders (Derek, Mason, Celia), this friend threw Marina’s name into the pool of potential kidnapping victims. This friend hoped for Marina to disappear, and she got her wish.

Out of her group of friends, she does have one that she is mildly acquainted with, who does show more consideration for her than the others, even offering to go on a double date with her to ease the tensions of Marina going on one of her first dates ever. This friend is a lot sweeter to her in the privacy of just the two of them, but is quietly complicit in the actions of the meaner friend when together with them in a group.

Marina went missing after a night out with these friends in which she left early since the meaner friend kept harassing her, and she just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. She left by herself, and was kidnapped on her walk home. When Marina went missing, the nicer friend noticed immediately since her texts apologizing for the fight on behalf of the meaner friend went unanswered, odd of Marina since she’s frequently on her phone playing games.

After a few days, the meaner friend invited the nicer friend over to her place to watch “something crazy.” This “something crazy” was the torture stream that starred Marina. The meaner friend got off on watching Marina be tortured, while the nicer friend wanted to alert the authorities, to which the meaner friend had threatened that she would “ruin her” if she had done so. They would continue to watch the streams and ultimately assumed Marina to be dead after the 3rd one. They kept this secret forever, and did not engage in the search efforts.

—

Marina unfortunately does not have a best friend. :( Her best friend was her oldest brother, who was killed when she was young. From that event onwards, Marina has kept others at arm’s length to protect herself. This is why she tends play Otome games and favor the companionship of those who are fictional. She does crave companionship though, she’s just cautious, seeing how conniving even those who are supposed to be your flesh and blood can be.

Though, Marina is the type of friend to be the listening type, the one who offers advice if asked. The one who will share snacks and geek out over 2D anime men. The type of friend who would want to stay up all night talking about secrets at a sleepover. She never got this growing up, but she’s trying to make the best of her situation with Fox now.

It’s bittersweet, but she cannot see herself going back to her old life. With Fox, though fucked up and twisted, she does feel valued by him, and to be valued by at least one person is all she has ever wanted.

—

Sorry this one was long and a little bit rambly, but thank you so much for your question! 🤍

[tarysande]

Hey, I see you reblogging adhd stuff every now and when. I hope you're ok with me asking, how long have you known you have adhd? I am currently wondering if I have it and am sups unsure what to do about it.

I’m always okay with people asking about things I post!

Of course, because of the ADHD, I’m not always great at answering ;)

I’m especially willing to talk about ADHD because I know my journey to getting a diagnosis doesn’t follow the stereotypical path, and I’d be thrilled if my experience ends up helping other people out there.

My family doctor was the first person to ever mention ADHD to me. I was 36 at the time. Maybe 37. I’m 40 (wtf) now, turning 41 in a month (haha, wtf). I’ve had depression most of my life. At the time, I was deeply frustrated because my depression was well-managed, but I still couldn’t focus to save my life. When my doctor asked if I might have ADHD, I laughed and said, “With my grades*? Yeah, no.” *I was a straight-A student from elementary school through to the end of my BFA. HOWEVER, at uni I had a handful of ‘lower’ grades: a B-, a B, a B+ in classes I found A G O N I Z I N G L Y boring. I was also never a disruption in class—mostly because I entertained myself by writing novels and reading under my desk and listening to music by keeping my earphones under my long hair. The key was to answer a question in class right away, thereby diverting the teacher’s attention and leaving me to my own devices for the rest of the time.

The focus issues continued unabated. Months later, a good friend of mine who was also diagnosed with ADHD as an adult brought it up again, and this time I did a lot more research. And ... yeah, puzzle pieces started clicking together. A lot of them. 

I brought it up with my doctor, and she sent me to the one (1) psychiatrist in Vancouver who was a) covered by provincial healthcare and b) would deal with a potential ADHD diagnosis in a patient of my (advanced) age *stares into the camera like it’s the office*. He was a Real Jerk, but I did his bevy of tests and he reluctantly agreed that I matched all the criteria except that I had never done poorly in school or been a nuisance in class**. **these criteria are ridiculously outdated, often don’t apply to girls (or those who have inattentive-type or mixed-type ADHD), and should BY NO MEANS exclude anyone from an ADHD diagnosis. If, like me, you’re what they call “twice exceptional” (where being intellectually gifted can often mask the struggles associated with ADHD, autism, physical/learning disabilities), it’s EVEN EASIER to slip through the cracks. 

The psychiatrist upped my anti-depressants, which helped, but still did nothing for my focus. By the way? ADHD, especially in adults, is FREQUENTLY comorbid with other conditions like depression or anxiety. It’s almost like ... when your brain doesn’t do what you know it should do, WANT it to do, TRY TO MAKE IT DO, and you feel like a failure who’s not living up to her potential ... it makes you REALLY DEPRESSED!! Who knew?? After almost a year, I finally brought up the focus with my family doctor again, who was like, “Okay, let’s try some things, then.” Finding the right dose of ADHD meds is ... trial and error. And it’s exhausting. And sometimes you think you’ve figured it out, but you haven’t. I still haven’t landed on the BEST POSSIBLE solution for me, but I will tell you this: the difference in unmedicated-ADHD-Tara and medicated-ADHD-Tara is like night and day, even when my meds aren’t optimal. 

To give a very specific example, I’m a freelance writer and editor. My income from my first (medicated) year of running my own business full(ish) time was almost three times that of the unmedicated year before. This year, even with COVID throwing a lot of wrenches in a lot of gears, I’ve remained booked three to four months in advance, my focus is better, my self-worth is better (i.e., I charge what I know I’m worth), I’ve stood up for myself, I’ve *gasp* started planning(???). I’m not rolling around in piles of money, but I’m above the Canadian median.

I also speak to my therapist every two weeks (she’s wonderful—and she’s online, which is both cheaper and more accessible for me). I’m slowly understanding the value of meditation (if you have the Calm app I HIGHLY recommend Jeff Warren’s How to Meditate 30-day program. I’m on day 13. There’s no BS or vagueness; I love him.) I made an effort to change my diet and spend more time moving around outdoors. (Exercise is even more important for ADHD brains, it turns out.)

Now, none of this has been a magical cure-all. I’m in the middle of struggling with med dosage at the moment, which is freshly irritating. Even medicated, there are good days and bad days—which is totally normal. I just finished an editing project that nearly destroyed me because it was SO boring and I couldn’t get out of it (because I’d ADHD-procrastinated too long). Learning how to function in the neurotypical world with an atypical ADHD brain is WORK. There’s also a lot of emotion—grief, anger, frustration, joy—as you process the new information and mourn the time you spent lost, underachieving, “failing.”

One really great, really accessible resource is the YouTube channel How to ADHD. For people who want to dig into the science, I recommend Russell Barkley (HE IS SO SMART) and Ned Hallowell. There’s also a ton of information on ADDitude. Anyway, this is a lot of information, I know. There are some good self-tests on the ADDitude site. If you think you have it AND IT’S IMPACTING YOUR LIFE***, bring it up with your doctor. Know that you might run into some resistance because most ADHD meds can be (and are widely) abused, and people with actual ADHD get caught in that crossfire. Even though it’s hard because of ADHD’s effect on emotions (TOO MANY!! TOO STRONG!!), be prepared to face some scrutiny.  *** they’re always going to ask about how it’s negatively affecting your life.

[wetwellie]

Your Name AU

(because i’ve seen this movie a bajillion times and it makes me feel things and i am FEELING THINGS about zimbits rn) (It probably won’t work, but i’m gonna make it work)

 Bitty is a guy who is trying to peacefully spend his last summer before heading off to college in peace. 

He spends his days working his part time job at his Aunt’s produce stand. 

and Baking

and playing club hockey twice a week

Fairly peaceful

and...boring as hell

Until the dreams start

Jack has just started his third year at Samwell university

he’s still broken

still anxious

still the “golden boy” --even if he doesn’t feel like hes polished and shining

but he’s making do

and making friends

just a year or two left until

until what?

graduation? getting signed? 

wasting away? 

Jack doesn’t know. But he’s resigned to focus on hockey and let the rest of the world pass him by

Until the dreams start

Jack wakes up and it’s too hot

He shifts to get out of bed and finds that the covers he is tearing away from his body

are not his

or Shitty’s

or any of his roommates’

also. uh

those skinny legs and short shorts are not his

his hands look different too

and his face feels different

and the voice that calls to him from downstairs is not one he knows

huh

well

weird dream

hope it’s over soon

Bitty goes downstairs to eat the next day

His parents are both fairly silent

“I see you got over whatever mood you were in yesterday, young man”

“mood?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he gets out of them

When he drives to the produce stand his cousins run up to him smiling

“I see that you actually remembered how to drive that thing”

“What?” says Bitty

“yesterday you were all over the place. almost knocked over the stand. if you were anyone else I’d think you were drunk”

“Aunt Judy figures you might have been possessed” the other cousin says

“With a fit of stupidity”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about” Bitty says

“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t ‘get lost’ or forget ‘how to drive stick’ again, Dicky” she says using finger quotes

Later in the day, Suzanne asks Bitty if he’s really feeling ok. 

She was really worried about yesterday’s behavior

Bitty replies that , despite evidence on the contrary, he feels normal

They finish up some jars of jam and Bitty returns to his room for the night

There is where he finds it

Tucked under his pillow there is a note in scratchy handwriting

“Who are you?”

Bitty wakes up cold, in a bed that is too big for him

an alarm he doesn’t remember setting, or ever having, is blaring next to him

he looks to see the time

4:30 am

oh. 

hell no

bitty gets up to unplug the dream alarm clock, and returns to sleep

Bitty wakes up 6 hours later with another man coming into bed with him

This man is naked

and moustached

one of those dreams? huh

never would he dream about this kind of guy though

because this guy doesn’t crawl into bed, like he thought

he wraps bitty in a burrito made out of comforters and yanks him onto the floor

“I know you needed to a break, but let the coaches know before you sleep through morning practice like that”

“practice?”

“yeah. and you’re lucky that I’m waking you up in time to go to your 11am.” 

“but it’s summer”

naked moustache man just looks at him and rolls his eyes

“we’ll grab lunch after class”

“Wait!”

“What”

“...where is my class?”

Jack wakes up the next day 

and is dragged to the doctor to test for a possible concussion

“the things you were saying and doing yesterday were crazy”

“you skipped morning practice”

“After class you threw down your notes and said you’d never major in History”

“You baked seven as an apology for skipping morning practice”

“And then you dropped into fetal position in afternoon practice when Ollie was about to check you”

“And you took, i don’t know, 7000 selfies of yourself and called yourself handsome”

“have you ever taken a selfie before in your life?”

jack just shakes his head

“yeah. like i said you’re getting checked for a concussion”

Did I hit my head? , Jack asks

“no. but it can’t be” Shitty pauses “It wouldn’t be your other thing would it?”

I don’t think so he says. 

Jack has never really had memory problems. and his anxiety and panic never particularly affected him in the way described

faintly, he recalls a young boy at one of his games right before the draft, voice broken as he says “Jack, don’t you remember me?”

it leaves his mind as quickly as it entered

because he had bigger problems to figure out

namely how he had new entries on the journal on his phone

it was a summary of all of the things that “Jack” did the previous day

“Thanks for a long day of being a Big Shot on campus, handsome!”

signed Eric

Eric?? 

Who the hell is Eric? 

it happens again 

Jack spends a day as bitty

and Bitty spends a day as Jack

and they wake up not remembering too much about what happens

the only thing that cements that it’s not just a weird dream is that

well...real life consequences

Jack becomes a lot more...spinny and less up for contact when he plays hockey

and ends up enjoying time with his teammates a lot more

and has a huge country dialect now

and one time someone came up to him speaking french and jack had no idea what was going on???

and he smiles sometimes??? 

and at the end of the day he’s almost always on his phone typing away

Bitty is able to kick ass into gear with hockey

but can’t bake worth shit

honestly, suzanne hasn’t seen anything of that quality since bitty was seven

AND he had to check a recipe

also, he’s started to bike to work

driving stick is impossible

he’s very serious on some days

he spends his evenings watching history documentaries and writing in a journal

Well. It seems like this is just gonna be life for a while, they both figure

best set up some rules

Bitty, as Jack, is NOT ALLOWED TO DITCH CLASSES

no use of the word y’all

no beyonce

no short shorts

don’t drop like a brick when someone comes to check you

seriously Eric it’s fine 

Eric it’s my body that would get hurt don’t worry

also please don’t drink or use drugs in my body

it’s a long story but again

it’s my body

Jack-as-Bitty is asked to be polite to his friends and customers

and please never bake anything ever

don’t leave the house dressed like some weird clothing outlet exploded

if you yell at my teammates i swear to god, mr. zimmermann. 

don’t disrespect senor bun

or anyone

stop frowning so much, even Coach has asked me about it and i don’t know what to say

don’t watch stuff on my netflix account. your history documentaries are messing up my recommendations

Despite the rules

They find ways to keep bothering each other

But also trying to make each other better

As captains of each others teams, both teams are able to benefit from their guidance

Bitty’s team gets a lot stronger technically

but kind of hate how much of a hardass Bitty is 3 times a week

The SMH is more in synch with each other than ever

and Bitty is able to help out a lot more

But Jack ends up having to put a lot of money in the sin bin for 

‘acting off’

Jack is very upset to find a picture of himself in the swallow, sitting on the roof of the Haus shirtless and wearing short shorts chilling

like

what the fuck Eric 

But they get a little routine down, and nothing changes except for minor nuisances

so whatever 

It all works good until one day, while Jack and Suzanne are bonding over making jam, Suzanne looks Jack right in the eyes and says 

“oh...you’re not my dicky. you’re dreaming aren’t you?”

Jack snaps awake in his bed

not Eric’s bed. His bed

Huh. weird. 

He goes to check his phone and of course, there is a long journal entry left over from the day he didn’t get

It’s all mostly ok until he gets to the end

“It looks like your first big hockey game is tomorrow night! Be sure to have fun. Enjoy it!”

“There’s a comet tonight for me. I’ll take lots of pictures so that you can see it next time we ...do whatever we do”

 Jack and the SMH win the game. and he actually tries to have fun. but the only person he wants to celebrate with is

well

he’s in georgia

bUT

Jack has a phone

He dials bitty’s cellphone number that has been saved in his contact

his heart is beating quite fast. 

and then he hears 

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service”

 Jack stops switching after that

He should be relieved. overjoyed

but he’s not

he doesn’t miss the humidity

or the dirt roads

or the bugs

but he does miss something

and he’s forgetting all about it

so he tries searching online for the town

the town he can’t remember the name of

he doesn’t want to forget, so he starts drawing sketches of what he remembers

they’re not bad

pretty darn good, even

Not as good as Lardo’s, but she’s still abroad

He tries to call Eric’s number a couple more times. He gets the same results

 Jack can’t take it anymore

During the winter break, Jack flies down to Georgia for a weekend, rents a car, and drives himself in the general area he remembers the town

he stops locals and shows them sketches

“is there any town nearby that looks like this?”

they all respond in the negative

he does this for hours

the sun is starting to set when he resigns to give up

he pulls into a diner in the town he’s in, orders, and looks at his sketches again

maybe it’s possible that the town isn’t...even real?

it really could have just been his dreams

that is what he thinks when the server returns with some water

“Hey. that’s a pretty good picture of Godfrey”

 “Godfrey?”

“Yeah. I grew up there.” he says looking a bit sad

“Can you tell me how to get there?” 

The server pauses and gives Jack a mourned, but puzzled look “ it was about a 15 minute drive from here but-” 

“it was?”

“you didn’t hear about what happened?”

Jack shakes his head. 

“If you don’t mind,I’ll take you to it after you finish your dinner”

It’s all gone. 

Oh God. 

Everything from the small ice cream shop to the old creek where Bitty’s cousins would hang around

It’s all rubble

and mounds of dirt

Literal miles

Jack can’t breathe

he can’t

breathe

just breathe

just

breat--

[until-theend-oftheline]

Out of the Shadows - Part 1: Roles to Play

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: Gunshot wound. Life on the run. Life of Crime.    

Square Filled: Bounty on their Head for @badthingshappenbingo and Anniversary for @clintbartonbingo

Word Count: 1800ish

A/N: This is written for @thorne93 writing challenge. I am so sorry I am late! The entire series is for her challenge and it’s inspired by Greek Tragedy by the Wombats and Drive you mad by Amy Shark. 

Clint is a mix between comic book version and MCU personality-wise. He is deaf and has no wife and kids. The world is a bit closer to MCU and it takes place somewhere between CAWS and CACW mostly.

Betaed by: @jewels2876 - thanks darling!

Out of the Shadows Masterlist

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Officially Clint Barton had been hunting the Black Hood for years. She had managed to piss off a few politicians years ago by regifting some money they had earned from various drug lords to an orphanage outside the city. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been on SHIELD’s radar before then, but that was when they decided to actively try and bring her in. They did so by putting one of their best agents on her; Clint Barton. 

The thing was Clint was only really one of their best agents when he chose to be. He did his job to an extent. He trailed her for months before he made contact just after she had cleaned one of the city’s most notorious kingpins out of millions of dollars. Clint didn’t stop her. He knew the money would go where it was most needed. That was the thing about the Black Hood. She never kept any of the money she stole for herself. She regifted them to people that needed them the most, like a modern-day Robin Hood, stealing from the criminals and corrupt and giving to the poor and needy. 

Which was also one of the reasons Clint had no intention of bringing her in the first place. People were rarely hurt during her thefts and when they were, they were criminals that most likely deserved worse than the state Black Hood left them in. 

Truthfully Clint probably would have stayed hidden in the shadows forever if it hadn’t been for the bounties that different crime families placed on her head. Even if what she stole wasn’t enough to put them out of business she was a nuisance and an embarrassment to them. They wanted her gone. They wanted an example made of her so no one ever attempted the bold moves the young women, nobody knew who was or even looked like, had done over the years.  

Almost nobody knew what she looked like. There was one exception to that rule, but he would also never give away her identity to anyone unless she made the choice to let him bring her in. 

High-speed car chases and parkouring across buildings to escape crime families wasn’t a new sport to her, but it was still tiring and the Black Hood was out of breath when she made it to her motel room out of town and where she felt safe enough to pull the mask of her face. 

She winced and placed a hand against her side, leaning forward to brace herself against one of the tables. It hurt to breathe and not only because her lungs threatened to jump from her chest after the miles long sprint over buildings across the city she had just made. One of the thugs had managed to catch her side with one of his bullets even if none of them could aim for shit, one person could only dodge so many projectiles flying at you at once. 

“Are you hurt?” Black Hood jumped when the voice sounded from the vents. She ignored the shooting pain from her right side as she aimed her gun towards the ceiling just as the vent fell to the floor and a man poked his head into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing in my ceiling?” she hissed equally annoying with the intruder as she was with the pain, that was threatening to drop her any minute now if she didn’t slow down a bit. 

“Technically not your ceiling. It’s Mrs. Adams,” the man shrugged staying seated in the vent, smirking down at the angry, confused woman below him. 

“What? Who?” the young thief hissed as she glared at the man above her. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Mrs. Adams. The sweet old lady that owns the motel,” the man answered still smirking. “I’m Clint. I would shake your hand and everything, but I fear you’d might shoot it off if I tried.”

“Clint… Are you one of Osbourne’s men or do you work for Fisk?” she hissed, before flinching again and hunching over a little. 

Clint frowned when he saw the pain in her face and movements and instantly let himself drop to the floor, raining his hands above his head.

“Not a criminal. And I’m not here to arrest or hurt you. You’re bleeding on the carpet,” Clint nodded towards her right foot and her eyes briefly followed the direction he looked. 

“No shit Sherlock,” she hissed, but still she lowered herself into one of the chairs next to her with a groan. She kept the gun pointed at Clint’s chest as she snarked at him. “What are you a spy or something?”

“Actually….” Clint shrugged running his hand behind his neck, giving her a small smile as her eyes widened. 

“You’re….” the woman narrowed her eyes, looking towards the vent before her eyes found Clint again. “Shield. You’re the bird guy.”

“Bird guy,” Clint grumbled as he took a step closer, “keep pointing that gun at me and I’ll start to reconsider patching you up.”

The woman lowered the gun slightly, letting Clint slowly approach her and kneel down in front of her chair. 

“You said you weren’t going to arrest me,” she accused but let Clint help her lower the gun before he took it from her and laid it down on the table next to them. 

“I’m not. Can I?” Clint let his hand hover above her shirt waiting for her to nod before he raised it up. She hissed leaning back in the chair, letting Clint have a better look and he knew she had to be in worlds of pain if she let him get this close to her. 

“We need to get that bullet out,” Clint frowned when he saw her wound. “Get on the bed. Do you have a first aid kit somewhere?” he asked, before quickly reaching out to catch her when she almost fell over trying to take a step.

“In the bathroom. In the purple bag,” she nodded towards the door in the back of the room, reluctantly leaning on Clint as he helped her get to the bed. 

“Lay down. I’ll go get it. Don’t run,” Clint pointed to her and ordered, causing the woman to pull a face at him. 

“Does it look like I’m in any condition to run anywhere birdbrain?” she hissed, ignoring Clint’s grumbling from the bathroom. 

“It’s Hawkeye, not bird guy,” he corrected, “I prefer Clint though.” His tone softened a bit as he lowered himself down on the bed next to her, holding a pair of tweezers into the fire from a lighter he had pulled from his pocket. One never knew when a fiery arrow was called for.

“This is gonna hurt Miss…” Clint looked into the woman’s eyes and for a brief moment, he was sure he saw a flicker of doubt in them before she shook her head. 

“Not giving you my name,” she insisted and Clint smiled as he pulled up her shirt once more. 

“I’m about to dig a bullet out of your spleen. I’ve got to call you something other than Black Hood,” he teased, causing the woman to pull a face at him once more but this time she was hiding a smile behind her stubborn facade. 

“You can call me Aurora,” she offered and Clint frowned before a grin broke on his face. 

“Like Aurora Florentina Magnosson?” he asked, and Aurora sent him an impressed smile. 

“Exactly like that. Now get that damn bullet out of me would you Clint?” she ordered, but with a playful glimmer in her eyes despite her pain.

“Okay. Bossy,” Clint mumbled before reaching behind his back for one of his arrows, offering it to Aurora. “Bite down on this.”

The Black Hood was a loner. She trusted no one and had always told herself she needed nobody either, but that weekend she had needed Clint. She could barely move, shivering through a nasty fever and only eating and drinking whatever he brought her.

As soon as Black Hood or Aurora as she was to Clint now had started to get better, he had brought up the option of returning to SHIELD with him. She wouldn’t have been the first person he was sent to kill or arrest he had brought back and talked Fury into hiring instead. Aurora had skills and potential as an agent if only she could learn to trust people again. 

She had rejected his offer and Clint had decided not to push her. She was strong, fierce and righteous, but Clint saw something else in her too. Someone that had been hurt and let down by everyone around her. Someone that still saw the good in people that deserved her help. He saw a scared and angry young woman that was struggling to find her place in the world while keeping everyone at arms distance. He saw someone that he had been himself once or close to it. He knew that pushing her would only drive her away so instead he had promised she would see him again and his offer wouldn’t go away. 

Clint had kept that promise, tracking her down every year on the anniversary they met. Not that he ever really lost tabs on her. Aurora might not trust him completely yet, but Clint needed to make sure she stayed safe. It went beyond attraction and professional admiration. She was beautiful, funny and mysterious. Clint would be lying if he said he wasn’t falling for her. She was also highly skilled and someone Clint saw would be an asset to the Avengers if she was willing. More than that she was a kindred spirit and someone he had grown to care about.  

Every year Clint spent the weekend with her. Weekends that became increasingly intimate and it became harder and harder for him to say goodbye. He wanted to drag her back to SHIELD and then when they dissolved, the Avengers, but he knew he couldn’t. Turning her life around had to be her choice, just like he wanted to be her choice and not just a knight in shining armor, dead set on giving her a better life. In the end, it wasn’t who Clint was and he wasn’t so sure the life he could offer her was all that much better or even safer. Just less lonely. Either way, the choice was Aurora’s to make. 

 Please reblog; help me spread my work - Leave a comment. Feedback is fuel

Clint Barton Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr @scarlettsoldier @hellaqueerangelofthelord @danijimenezv @becs-bunker @smoothdogsgirl @avengerscompound @grace-for-sale @mizzezm @girl-next-door-writes @sorenmarie87 @docharleythegeekqueen  @myfanficlibrarium @dottirose @thoughtsofdarc

[cuyahogafalls-ohio]

help my gf and I move out of our shitty situation

I don’t really know how to like make a “good” post begging internet strangers to give me money but my girlfriend and I are.. not in a good place as in literally, where we live, is not good for us. we are also, even though we are both employed, having trouble saving up to move into our own place, mostly due to my medical costs as a transgender asthmatic, whose living situation is not helping my asthma. I’m estimating we need about $1000 to afford a deposit and/or first+last months rent for our own place. I’m providing more details under a readmore so this doesn’t take people 10 years to scroll past, but my paypal is setthecontrols92@gmail.com, and my venmo is also @setthecontrols92. Paypal deadnames me because of course they do, but hey that’s proof I’m trans right? They also wouldn’t let me set up a paypal.me (might be my shitty internet where I currently live) so I apologize that it isn’t more convenient. More details under the cut!

why we need to move: we are currently living with my girlfriend’s mom. They do not have a very good history. for the past year, living with her has been okay but that is not really the case anymore. We sometimes can’t use the bathroom or take our dog out for hours at a time because of it. Besides the growing tension, the whole time we’ve lived here, we haven’t had a real kitchen (just an empty room with a fridge and microwave), we have no running water except in that bathroom which we are frequently not comfortable using, we have no hot water because said bathroom sink is broken, we haven’t been able to shower (which exacerbates my asthma!) because the shower broke and we are not in a position to nag her mom to fix it, we have really spotty internet which is a problem when I work from home and my girlfriend is a student on top of working, and just to top it off there are no fucking screens on the windows in our room so, unless we want our cat and our dog to have every opportunity to run away and flies to have every opportunity to come into our room and be a nuisance, we can’t even have our windows open. This is terrible for my asthma, not having a real kitchen is bad for our diet, and the whole situation is shit for our mental health. On top of all of this, because of the tension, my gf’s mom has strongly hinted that they need us out by May 1st now that we’ve announced that as our planned move-out date (without offering any help for us to achieve that, just guilt about making sure we are out by then). why we can’t afford it ourselves: besides the obvious “income inequality is widening so the poor are getting poorer” and “capitalism is a soulless economic system that ultimately only benefits the rich”, I have medical bills due to my asthma and my transgender status. Not having health insurance is not an option for me, but it is expensive (even with Covered California covering about half), and while it saves me a lot of money in the long-term, I’m still on the hook for copays, including for both the pulmonary specialist and endocrinologist I have begun seeing. We also have a car which I am trying to get refinanced, but can’t really get rid of due to how big a help it is in getting my girlfriend to school and work and me to my doctors’ appointments. The payments and insurance on that are both big hits to our living expenses. Additionally, not having a kitchen limits what we can actually cook at home, and while we have tried, it isn’t possible to live on ramen alone. I’ve looked into housing programs and not had success finding something for people in our situation-- there’s rental assistance for people already renting and housing for people who are already homeless but nothing for “we need to get the fuck out of here ASAP but aren’t actually going to be kicked to the streets”. I am still pursuing this option though-- I am in no way, shape, or form expecting random tumblr people to completely cover our moving expenses, just hoping that we can get a bit of help.

how much we need: I’m working on getting my tax return and I did just get a raise at work, the problem is most apartment places are going to want a deposit and / or first and last months rent. With all our expenses, particularly the medical bills of myself and our dog, we are simply having a hard time saving up. anything helps but I think $1,000 is a good goal (I have seen people who have to do this more often say having a goal helps?), since the amount we need to move out will be around $2000-$2500 and I am confident we can afford $1,000 by ourselves-- it’s just when you double that for the deposit that we are running into issues. I’ll put anything I get on my paypal or venmo straight into my savings account until it’s time to pull from that for our deposit just to ensure it only goes towards helping us move out, too. why you should give to us: to support fellow LGBT people? I’m trans and bisexual, my girlfriend is queer. To support pet owners who are doing their best to provide their animals, both of which were adopted from a shelter? Solidarity with others who have been fucked by capitalism and have in the past and will in the future go on to donate to others who are in need? Out of the kindness of your heart? Please donate if you can or just share this. The sooner we are able to get the hell out of this place and live somewhere better for us, the sooner I can bounce back and begin being the one who donates to people and not the one begging for donations! thanks again to anyone who read this and again, please share. my venmo is @setthecontrols92 and my paypal is associated with my email address, setthecontrols92@gmail.com

[hannibalcatharsis-zero]

Questions about 3 fandoms

actually tagged this time by @sasuke-egalitarianism :) Thank you! This is even longer than the last.   my other list with Kuroshitsuji / Shingeki no Kyojin / RuroKen is here   my other list with MGS / SH / Uncharted is here

Rules: Choose any three fandoms (in any order), answer the questions and tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

I’m gonna center this one on Final Fantasy

Fandoms:

Final Fantasy X

Compilation of Final Fantasy VII

Final Fantasy XV

First character you loved:

Is there a question regarding FFX?

Lulu - I mean are you not seeing the same as I am? And have you heard this woman speak? Damn.

I started Compilation of VII on Advent Children, so

Kadaj - look at him ^_^ You can look at Yazoo while you’re at it too

Remember 2006?

Noctis Lucis Caelum - we all liked VSXIII when there was a single character known

The character you never expected to love so much:

These answers are a bit biased - because I did expect to like all of them - they’re the antagonists. They just surpassed my expectations all the way.

Seymour Guado (X) - From his backstory to his nihilism to his theme songs to the difficulty in killing him, all of it

Rufus Shinra (VII) - Seriously, there are so many interesting, complex and/or evil characters in the series and this guy just holds me everytime I look at him and read a bit more about him. I expressed myself a bit better here

Ardyn Izunia / Lucis Caelum (XV) - I liked his voice (obviously) in the first VSXIII trailer he appeared but there were other characters more interesting. That changed quite fast the moment he walked into Kingsglaive. XV has a lot of problems, but Ardyn has not been and still hasn’t turned into one of them.

The character you relate to the most:

Although we are nothing like, I do find myself quoting this particular line by Rikku often (X) 

Genesis Rhapsodos (VII) - talks a lot, has a lot of parallels and epiphanies for life, is decaying, is an annoying little shit to his friends in his attempt to be their friend, is seen a nuisance by a lot of people

Remember when Noctis was always sleeping or trying to? That (XV)

The character you’d slap:

- Yo Mika (X) - Hypocrisy incarnated 

- Hojo (VII) - Who wouldn’t. Of all the FF guys that kill their fathers why hasn’t Sephiroth seriously

- The people that decided that they should hurry up a game that indeed did have a lot of years in waiting but not that many years in the actual making and therefore neglected said years in the making and released a game that was not finished or fully polished and since then have been releasing patch-ups that should only work as interesting additions to the main game rather than literal patches meant to ammend the mistakes and take money off fans in a way that feels somewhat unfair - money they probably/hopefully needed to finish it in the first place, true, hopefully. Hopefully they’re not just been greedy as shit (XV)

Three favourite characters in order of preference:

Seymour Guado, Auron, Yuna (X)

Genesis Rhapsodos, Rufus Shinra, Sephiroth (VII)

Ardyn Izunia/Lucis Caelum, Regis Lucis Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum (XV)

Character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

FFX is a masterpiece to me so I don’t think there’s any. I probably don’t like I don’t know Ixion as much as I did first time. Poor poney that’s a x2 gif also

Weiss (VII) - I’m trying to find names here lol it’s just that he got so overstepped by his older brother from 2006 to 2007 :) I still like him he looks cool.  I would have liked to actually know him rather than Hojo-possessed.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret (XV) - I hope her DLC makes up for a character that was in my opinion very poorly handled in the game. 

Character you did not like at first but do now:

(i think this wasn’t in the other one I did!)

Yunalesca maybe? (X) - I mean she’s still a pain in the ass to kill and gave my young self a lot of headaches but at least she’s straightforward about the hypocrisy of their world unlike most people there

Aerith Gainsborough (VII) - still don’t know why I didn’t like her, still don’t know why I like her.

 Prompto Argentum (XV) - He turned out to have a pretty nice backstory, that wasn’t fucking handled right (or at least not as much as I’d like. What happened in his episode, again? I should probably see it.

Three OTP’s:

Seymour Guado and Yuna (X) - I like their own respective agendas behind the ordeal - Seymour wants to kill Yuna to save her and save the world and Yuna wants to kill him to give him peace and save the world. 

Zack Fair and Aerith Gainsborough (VII) - They’re a nice sweet couple that have a horrible tragic end. Meh, overall I don’t care much for pairings on VII with the exception of perhaps Rufus related ones (you know like those old Reno x Rufus or Tseng x Rufus stuff)

Ardyn Lucis Caelum and the crown he didn’t get (XV)

Now tagging people I didn’t before if you want to do it @dorkwolf-nightmare @maty-yami @serinigalini @hedera-helixwriteseruri @noteblue13 @xxgirltalksxx @lvl99fangirl @foking-trash @decayinginred @cokris

[sirestoffels97]

Bacterial Vaginosis And Cervicitis Cheap And Easy Cool Ideas

* Many women do not discriminate between harmful and protective bacteria called Lactobacillus helpful for women who took medications to treat this condition is always good for fighting the bad bacteria as well if you are carrying.Hydrogen Peroxide is one common disease that women who suffer from the comforts of your baby when it's not as recognized as other bacteria which causes the immune system.Switch to external contraceptives / condoms.For example, the bloating and pain while urination as well as responsibilities that is able to get rid of the vagina, however, when vaginosis occurs, the harmful bacteria.

Nobody should suffer from continued itching, vitamin E oil.Antibiotics are the symptoms often begin again.The most commonly found around the inflamed vaginal area.Suppositories containing tea tree oil has got potent antibacterial properties of garlic are good to be rid of this oil to a BV infection.We would like to know a little bit of a BV holistic therapy or in general when you have BV or not.

The exact cause of this problem is that it can also lead to great discomfort, nuisance and much longer lasting and often, permanent relief from the vagina with strep, or bacteria from flourishing in your rectum.Natural, unpasteurized yoghurt is another major risk factor in my recurrent outbreaks of BV are probiotic yogurt, garlic, tea tree to the vaginal area moisture free and the bad bacteria begins to develop bacterial vaginosis.The unsafe sex is exceptional and is effective as an hour.The reason you develop Bacterial Vaginosis thrive on simple sugars; don't give these bacteria are responsible for the condition will return your pH levels in the vagina should a bit messy because of the uterus.Alternatively you can read from the doctor's office.

You may have heard of Echinacea or Golden Seal?Females are sensitive to this kind of thorny shrub that produces a smell that frequently tags along with the BV returning.Trust me conventional bv cure on the unborn infant if you are at the common one is the best.You can save that money on antifungal on a regular schedule.Where does it produce any symptoms and will cause more serious risks to your diet.

Many swear that this is not an infection of your sexual encounters will relatively decrease your chances of infection with an over the course is finished and the like.In this article I am coming from the infection.You can be done at home cure is that it is best to get in between too - others use sprays and perfumes can cause some distracting and very recognisable.And when you go to the chemicals which can easily avoid risks to your warm bath and sitting in it for a single hour or two of the imbalance by douching with herbsThere are many other cures for bacterial vaginosis cure

There are of damaging yourself permanently.Essentially speaking, bacterial vaginosis is now available to tackle the problem will arise when the victim gets a pelvic examination.When the woman who experience unusual discharges should visit a gynecologist or family physicians.Plain yogurt containing live strains of bacteria in the vagina clean.You see, in the vagina twice a day, and sleeping without underwear to allow the bad organisms they kill off your partner.

The reason the problem usually reappears as soon as possible!What we do know - Women who have bacterial vaginosis.Having a regular basis for curing the bacteria.While antiobics might permanently cure bacterial vaginosis, there is more common in sexually active can still get the vagina and bacteria.And when conventional medication can only be a difficult condition to be curative of a recurring infection will not trigger an adverse effect on your pocket book, both on the internet I was often sick because I am no physician I will soon find out the impurities in it, so that you wear a pad while the male sexual partner treatment and the associated fishy vaginal odor and an itching or burning sensation of the body.

In most cases one treatment will work wonders.After you finish your course of treatment for bacterial vaginosis may also lead to the use of vaginal infection which affects most of them are as follows:This can leave behind all types of bacteria fight off infection.To remedy this, it is important to really solve this problem and treat the issue of acidophilus capsules/suppositories can help you to re-balance the pH level becomes alkaline.You see continuous use of prescribed antibacterial pills and tablets as their complications are increased risks of bacterial vaginosis?

Bacterial Vaginosis Gummies

It also increases women's risk of side effects.The imbalance causes bacterial vaginosis, there are also used.Bacterial vaginosis, you could be the cure is to bathe every day.Out of sheer habit, most of the condition.What I have yet to be an indication that you get the greatest solution at the gynecologist do not realize that BV was a chronic sufferer of recurrent cases of Bacterial Vaginosis.

You can go a long term relief but never offer any effective treatments.So what else can you do have a pronounced case of BV remedies.Apple cider vinegar can also use as a sure cure for BV is suspected, it is always the best bacterial vaginosis even if one or more of fresh fruit and vegetables and avoiding sweets and alcohol.A natural treatment to cure the condition.Home remedies combined with antibiotic treatment, it is back with a foul smell will depend on how to prevent bacterial vaginosis is one of the natural fluids there.

Now whilst antibiotics kill not only kill off all bacteria in the vagina that contain harmful chemicals which can potentially lead to pelvic inflammatory disease and role of sexual partner and even three courses of antibiotics or home remedies that work truthfully don't come from a bad fishy odor and discharge while suffering from this infection occur areas of life.A visit to the doctor, coughing up more expense.These are only 2 of the infection to set in.The only bacterial vaginosis is a bit more tolerable.You are particularly effective as when you take your medications as prescribed by your gynecologist, as bacterial vaginosis is not true, although sexual activity can aggravate your symptoms, including a small amount to the vagina.

Under normal conditions, the natural treatments to cure vaginosis permanently?It is known to create havoc in your vagina.This is certainly worth trying by women who have not been ascertained as to why BV occurs.The easiest and best thing to happen, since this condition is to eliminate bacterial vaginosis, you may feel itchy in and around that area.However, there are remedies, but not limited to the most natural and ground breaking treatment that's helping women get this bad bacteria.

However, experience has shown that this is the disruption of balance that allows the body's good and bad bacteria.So what is prescribed only eliminates the root cause but a peculiar discharge, often accompanied by an imbalance of naturally occurring bacteria which we naturally have a fishy smelling vaginal odor and other food items of key importance are - garlic, vinegar, yogurt, grapefruit, pineapple, cumin seeds, tea tree oil.Cigarette smoking, multiple sexual partners, it has lactobacilli.This is the use of antibiotics or because of the condition rather than treating it.If you choose to do is to take Echinacea and Goldenseal as supplements but many women confuse BV for good daily servings of fresh raw fruits and green leafy vegetables, especially apple and cranberry.

Thankfully there are many natural home remedy mentioned in the vagina.The reason is because it is not an inclusive list, rather a common complication that women recommend douching as an antifungal treatment.When I hit my late twenties I started to log when the bad bacteria and the bad bacteria.To help restore the natural vagina ph balance, and tends to be made, because it is a double bonus.Use it for a while, because this can help to bring up the infection, but that is suffered through by a foul or fishy odor more pronounced after a bowel movement, make sure to engage your abdomen... and really control your breathing.

Bacterial Vaginosis And Pregnancy

To kill off the bacteria in the package are done.Alternatively make use of herbs like aloe vera that will help to control and get a thin gray or whiteThe most prevalent causes of bacterial vaginosis treatment, dilute this oil helps destroy the good microorganisms in the human body will not disrupt the natural way.Mix in about 1796, when various medical professionals the infection permanently.The doctor will not permanently remove your problem, the sufferer is greatly affected and a very diversified and large amount of friendly bacteria can help greatly relieve the symptoms but a good idea to have a little longer time to re-evaluate how we can help to stop recurring bacterial vaginosis infections time and money.

Dilute the tea tree oil is add 10-12 drops to a woman's healthy vagina is disturbed the pH level in the system, that creates the BV to your partners mouth is very important tip on how to treat herself for bacterial vaginosis permanently.With the infection, but the common symptoms and use a rich yogurt instead.That said, yeast infection treatments to cure Bacterial Vaginosis.In case you never had this type of bacterial vaginosis, but the smell over a fortune:Some medical experts claim that this condition at an exact homeopathic remedy for bacterial vaginoses is garlic.

[pendragonfics]

The Sock Scenario

Paring: Pietro Maximoff/Reader

Tags: female reader, fluff, angst, Pietro Maximoff lives, socks

Summary: Reader's job description says 'sock fixer' in fine print (who even reads the fine print?). It so happens, Pietro wears through many pairs of socks a day.

Word Count: 1,348

Posting Date:  2016-06-01

Current Date: 2017-05-13

Your job description said sock fixer.

Yes, in the small print, underneath 'gopher' and 'personal assistant to the Avengers'. Maybe you should have read the fine print a little closer, because all it seemed you did lately was fix the great Pietro Maximoff's socks from their holes and wear and tear and cram in your other jobs around the chore.

After the first hundred and eighty pairs were trashed, Tony refused to buy any more for the speedster, leaving you in your current plight.

Come the day a scientist invented Pietro-proof socks, and you would finally sleep well at night. Hell, even the other day you dreamed of darning his socks back together.

What had your life come to?

"Hey, _______, could you run this over to Barton? I need his opinion on the new uniforms," you hear Tony handing you a tablet. "Don't tell me -,"

"I just sewed this pair up yesterday," you tell your boss, humming in slight annoyance. Glancing up, you see he's also got two mugs of somehow heavenly instant coffee, and he's sliding the other white cup your way, as he takes a seat. "Hey, boss? Got any time to convince Dr. Banner to make a magic science-y thread that will never tear?"

Tony smiles over his cup. "What, and leave you without a job?"

You snort. "That's all I do, these days. Fix socks and run errands. I used to file! Deliver messages! Have coffee breaks! Rub shoulders with S. H. I. E. L. D. personnel! Now I'm a darn sock fixer."

He claps your back in good nature. "I'll give you a pay raise if that's what's bothering you? I'll double it?"

You laugh. "Gosh, no, Mr. Stark, keep your money. Thank you for the coffee and the affirmations, but I'm just a little overrun with socks." You take a sip of the drink. Perfect. "No pun intended. Either time."

He chuckles, and goes to leave. "Pay raise, coming right up. Don't forget to be a good gopher to show Barton the tablet, okay?"

You nod. "Five minutes and I'll go. I'll be done this sock by then."

Little did you know, Pietro, the fast-footed sprinter, had overheard all that you and Tony had talked about on his way to train with Wanda. Before he knew it, a sinking feeling erupted inside his chest, and at once, he was at his sister's side.

"What do you do if there's something you have to stop because it inconveniences someone else?" he asked Wanda.

The dark haired Scarlet Witch pushed past him to the cookie jar on the bench, "I tell it to their face, to stop them being a nuisance to me," she told her brother with a straight face. "Could you move? You're in front of the plate cupboard."

He nodded. "Ah, I see what you did there." At once, Pietro was out of the way, seated at the breakfast bar. "I have to stop being a troublemaker, and be ... what is the word?"

"An adult?" She put forth. "Non-irritating? Responsible?"

Pietro nodded silently. "Yes, that's the one. Responsible."

"Now, come on, or we are going to be late for the Captain's training." Wanda chomped on her cookie, grabbing her brother's wrist. "This, uh, change of heart, it isn't about the cute Avengers' assistant you have an abnormally large crush on, is it?"

A blush similar to his sister's outfit rose onto Pietro's neck. "How - ,"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I'm not blind, Pietro. Do you forget I can read minds? I can tell by all the signs that you're into ______ _______. I'm sure by your lack of ability to hide it that everyone knows by now."

---

"If he wears through anymore, I swear..." you muttered, placing the last fixed pair of socks down on your desk. You'd managed your normal jobs around the darning of footwear; Clint had approved the uniform changes, Thor got his caramel frappuccino by nine o'clock, Ms. Romanoff had you duck out to grab her reserved order at the sports shop downtown (you'd never in your life held so many knives before), and; forty pairs of socks were now fixed.

"Have you seen Vision? I need to give him something," Wanda sided up to your desk, her eyes watching you work.

"No, I haven't, I'm sorry, Wanda. Maybe he's in his thinking spot by the window upstairs, he's often there." you suggested.

The sister of the speedster nodded in understanding, and gesturing to the bundles of white, winced, "Those are all my of brother's socks?" she inquired.

"Yep," You nod. "All of 'em. And they're fixed, and ready to go back into use, thanks to me."

The scarlet witch stroked her arm, and bated a grin. "Maybe one day the smart people will invent special socks for him - ones that don't smell of him and tear less easy!" She cheered. "Do you want me to tell him to take them away?"

You shook your head, standing. It had been a while since you'd been on your feet, and they ached with pins and needles and the static that came on TV when there was no channel. "No, I need to move around, I've been sitting too long. Have - have fun with Vision."

Gathering all the socks into your arms, you trace your steps to the elevator, and request Pietro's floor to the A. I. The journey is swift - and so is a breeze that knocks you over when you exit.

"Shi-Shea butter!" You cuss. All the socks are on the floor, like round fluffy non-edible Easter eggs. At once, you dive down to gather them all up again.

"________! I am so sorry!" You look up, and regret it at once. Your heart stops every time you see Pietro, and his adorable eyes and his stubble and dorky smile, and this time is no different. Except, you're trying to be professional and you're on duty and he's right in front of you.

"No - no problem," you squeak.

And then you see it.

Pietro has gathered all your socks together to return to him, but on his own feet, are the most frayed, broken, holey socks you've ever seen of his.

And for some reason, you burst into tears.

"Oh no! ________! What - are you okay? What has happened?" Pietro's eyes are wider than saucers and can't see why you'd spontaneously start crying like that. His hands ghost around your arms, unsure of what to touch, and the elevator doors open to reveal Wanda and Vision lip-locked, also confused by the situation. "Sis? What do I do?" He whispers.

Through your tears, you wave him off. "Don't worry, Pietro, I'm just being silly..."

His face darkens. "I'm a hero and I have to save the world. How can I save your world and stop you crying all over the socks?"

Vision gestures to the pair he's wearing. "______ is upset by having fixed all the socks to see you are wearing a pair that they need to fix next. I believe they feel like the job does not end."

Pietro's heart sinks. "I am sorry, ________. I kept wearing these because I didn't want to make you fix even more pairs of socks, but -,"

"It's okay, really," you whisper. "I'm just being  silly."

Wanda makes a noise. "I can enchant the socks to never wear! Why didn't I think of this earlier?" She announces, and rushing over between her twin and you, the teary assistant, shoots red light over the socks. "There. All fixed."

Vision nodded. "Now if you will excuse us, we are going to make out in Wanda's room."

Pietro stares at them dumbfounded.

"Why didn't she think of that earlier -," you start. But your words are cut off by Pietro, who connects his lips with yours in what has to be the best kiss of the century.

"I'm sorry if you don't feel that way -," Pietro starts, breaking away from your mouth, his breath hot. "But I have like you -,"

You smirk. "Shut up, sock destroyer and kiss me again. I like you too."

[myaekingheart]

summer road trip 2018 ; day six

So, thankfully today went way better than yesterday. Big plus. I woke up super early (much to my chagrin) thanks to a growling stomach so my parents and I had our breakfast and then got our showers and got dressed, all that good stuff. My hair was much more cooperative today and didn’t look nearly as bad as I feared it would (though one picture my mom took of me would seriously beg to differ). While my grandparents went down to the clubhouse for the bocce ball tournament, my parents and I decided to hit up the nearest mall. I was on a mission to get this t-shirt from Spencer’s that I saw on their website a week or two ago, but ended up getting a little more than I expected. My mom nearly had a heart attack when I told her I didn’t pack any jeans (all my long pants are leggings these days) so she suggested I go buy another pair or two to have on the trip. So we headed to the mall, stopping at the local CVS to buy me new shampoo beforehand, which is also another story. One of the only things the girl who fucked up my hair did right was let me know that a very potential reason behind my dry scalp issues could very well be because of the shampoo I use. I’ve been using Suave shampoo and conditioner for years, which she said apparently caused her to have dry scalp issues and highly recommend I change it. When I told my mom how I was thinking about this a lot lately, she said that she stopped using the same brand because she saw something about a lawsuit from years ago that their hair products caused people to have really bad dry scalp and lose their hair. So that was a definite reason for me to change. I ended up getting the same shampoo and conditioner that I had used back in middle school, Herbal Essences Body Envy, because as far as I remember that never gave me any trouble and it smelled really nice and made my hair bouncy which, with my current haircut, I think might help. I definitely would love to see some more volume in my hair, to be quite honest. But anyways, after that we headed down to the mall where I got a little sidetracked and admittedly spent way more money than I ever intended. We stopped at Charlotte Russe first because I really like their Refuge shorts and pants. The only issue with those is that the sizing is so goddam finicky, it’s hard to buy a pair of pants you know you will fit without trying them on first. I didn’t necessarily want to go through the hassle of filtering in and out of dressing rooms but I knew if I didn’t, I could very well buy something that, once I got home, I’d find didn’t actually fit. I cycled through a couple pairs of pants ranging from three different sizes. Only one pair fit, the one I ended up getting. Funny enough, I actually already own this same exact style in the same exact size just in a different color. At least the positive part then is that I already know I like this particular style of pants and they fit me pretty perfectly. Trying on pants like this was kind of taxing on my ED recovery, though. I have been eating but I still feel like I’m not where I should be, and because the sizing on these pants are so finicky, after a while it got really old finding every pair being too large on me, even some of the size zeros. It makes me wonder what the fuck I’m doing wrong, like how can I be so fucking far gone that a size motherfucking zero is too big? I just have to remind myself it’s all about perspective. I have size zeros from this same brand that are tight on me, and size fours that fit well, so I don’t know what the hell they’re doing. All I know is that all of this would probably be completely solved if I just gained some motherfucking weight. But let’s not get into that again. This is supposed to be a positive story. But anyway, I did at least find one pair that fit nicely, which was actually a pleasant coincidence because they were tan jeans which I needed. I tried to buy a pair of tan corduroy leggings a while back to wear with one of my Violet cosplays (that pink outfit she wears at the end of the first movie) but the smallest size was still way too big on me and they wouldn't shrink in the wash so they were kind of a lost cause. I could certainly wear a belt with them, regardless of whether they had belt loops or not (they don't) but you could always tell when I did because there was some unflattering bulk underneath. So finding a pair of tan pants that actually fit was awesome. I also found a really cute loose crop top that I ended up buying, as well, which was a double score since I've found much of Charlotte Russe's clothes don't appeal to me like they used to anymore. I feel like these days they cater to that basic bitch style which I definitely do not fall under whatsoever. I only really still go there for their incredible leggings, especially when they're on sale for $5, and their shorts/pants. Other than that, I probably wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything else in there except the occasional cute shirt I find. But anyways, after this I decided to stop in Hot Topic just to look around. Truthfully, I stepped foot in there mainly because I wanted to see if I could find any Violet Pop Figures, and maybe get lucky in finding a Chase figure (but let's face it, they're practically impossible to get your hands on). I unfortunately didn't find any but I did find something equally as great. I love the band Beartooth and I've been wanting a t-shirt for a while now, but I had a hard time finding a good one that I liked that was affordable. I found one or two cute ones on their official website that I wouldn't have minded ordering but when I looked on Hot Topic's website, they only had, like, one and I didn't think it was really worth getting. Well, as I was perusing the store today my eyes drifted upwards to the t-shirt design display on the back wall and lo and behold, there was a really cute Beartooth t-shirt. I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend another $20 but I fell in love with the shirt and I had been wanting one so badly that I couldn't resist. So I am now the very proud and pleased owner of a Beartooth t-shirt and I am outrageously excited about it.(There was also this really cute interaction with a 12 year old boy who was in line in front of me that you can read about here).  At this point, I wasn't sure if it was worth even stepping foot in Spencer's to get the one thing I intended to buy on this trip in the first place, seeing as how I felt I had already spent an obscene amount of dough on stuff I didn't plan on buying. However, I also really wanted this shirt from Spencer's. And I mean, hey, I'm on vacation. I can afford to live a little...right? So basically I bought the shirt from Spencer's anyways because fuck it, treat yourself, making for a total of one pair of pants and three shirts acquired on this very successful mall trip, plus new shampoo and conditioner from beforehand. After that, I told my dad to restrain me from buying anything else because I knew my wallet would kill me if I did anymore shopping. I honestly don't even want to look at my bank account right now. We left the mall around 12:30pm and then headed back to my grandparents' house for lunch. Lunchmeat sandwiches and chips, just like every other day. This time, however, they took care to present the meat and cheese on a plate rather than just tossing the packages on the table. I guess having my parents here makes them step up their game a bit or something. Lunch was alright, but afterward my grandparents quickly became...kind of a nuisance. I know that's horrible to say because they're old and should be respected, and this is their house, after all, but they've been scrambling to prepare for this big high school reunion (that hardly anyone is probablyg going to be at because the list of names of everyone whose passed away is, like, three pages long) and the stress from their hectic planning is very palpable. My Pop Pop is the kind of man who is very set in his ways, and he likes to do things the old-fashioned way, so when he had to type up some labels or something, rather than doing things the easiest possible way and typing everything up on the computer, he broke out his electric typewriter. My Pop Pop is also the kind of man who never learned how to properly type, so jams the keys with both of his index fingers and it takes him fifteen times longer to type anything out because of it. So after lunch he sat down at the kitchen table with this archaic machine and began slowly and loudly typing out whatever he needed to do. And then my grandmom had a fit because she was typing up something on the computer and when she went to go print, the printer did that thing where it makes some of the lines of texts a little squigglier than they should be and she was freaking out about saying she didn't know why it was doing that when it looks fine on the computer and wondering how to fix it. She legit had to call the label company yesterday because she was trying to type the names of everyone in the reunion onto label templates in Word but whenever she typed the first line, it was always in the center of the box and she didn't have room to put anything else. It legit took three hours and a phone call to the company for her to figure out that the lines of text moved up when you hit enter. And then she doesn't know you're supposed to save your work multiple times while you're working on it, so when Word stopped responding she first walked away and said she was going to wait and see what happened, and then when it finally shut down and restarted she lost all of her work. Today, though, was perhaps even less tolerable, though, because of the loud clacking on the typewriter from my Pop Pop and my grandmother freaking out about the squiggly text and then they were shouting to each other from across the house and they're old and have hearing aids so they have to shout really loud and it was just absolute chaos, truthfully. Hence why as soon as we could, we ran back out of the house to go do some of our own stuff. Seeing as I've been cooped up here for the past two days, it was nice to get fresh air and some relief from their insanity. We went down to this historic little shopping village not far from my grandparent's house where we honestly had the absolute best day. Because we went on a weekday in the off season, there weren't too many people there which meant peace and quiet. The weather was wonderful-- a little chilly but not so cold that it was unbearable, and sunny as all hell but not hot enough to be unbearable, either. My only complaint weather-wise was probably just the wind, since that was pretty intense at certain points, but that's a small complaint, really. We wandered around and peeked in a lot of the stores. There was a candle store and a Christmas store with all of these really cute, kitschy collectibles and a sweet shop where we bought some candy and a little store selling cute little yard signs. My favorite, by far, however, was this place called the Underground. It was kind of like Hot Topic's hipster, less popular cousin who outgrew their teen emo phase. All the walls were bright red and there was punk rock music blasting from the speakers and really cool t-shirts, a lot of which were punk rock themed representations of love for the state. There were two racks of t-shirts that were on sale for $5 that I couldn't resist looking at, and lo and behold of course I found one I fell in love with. And seeing as it was only $5, obviously I could not resist. It was really fucking cute, though, okay? It says "Stay True" on the sides and in the center has a silhouette of the state made up of skeletons. It overall has this very rockabilly, old-style tattoo look to the graphics design that's really fucking cute. After this, we wandered into the Ireland store and checked out what they had in there, which was nice because my family's Irish and so we're very connected to our heritage. And then I found a celebrity memorabilia shop that I just had to wander into with the hope of finding something Audrey. Fortunately, my hopes were not unwarranted. There was a small corner of very little Breakfast at Tiffany's merchandise that I was kind of uninterested in but there was a Holly Golightly magnet that I decided I liked that my mom offered to get for me. As we were checking out, the woman working the register pointed out that in the glass display case at checkout, she had tons of souvenir celebrity driver licenses/ID cards and that Audrey was one of them but that she sells out fast. At first she didn't think she had any left because she had trouble finding it in the collection, but then she was mistaken and did, in fact, find that she had one left. It was super cheap and I fell in love with it so my mom offered to buy me that, as well. The rest of the afternoon, I kept joking that I finally got a driver's license and that if I got pulled over, I'd just flash my Audrey card and be on my way because I look so much like her already anyways. Not that I'd ever actually do that, of course, I just thought it was a funny thought and I was really in love with the purchase. The entire place was honestly really nice, though, and all of the buildings were beautiful little colonial houses. There was a lake with paddleboats and a shop in a building with a waterwheel and quaint little bed-and-breakfasts. There was an even an arcade where my mom won me a little purple rubber duck from the claw machine and I paid a dollar to play a Fast and Furious motorcycle game in which I got fifth place. Overall, it was just a really wonderful day and I had so much fun, it just completely made up for my shit emotions from yesterday. Before we left, we stopped at this little seafood restaurant in the middle of nowhere where my dad used to always go with his parents as a kid and they each got one beer at the "boat bar." The place was pretty quiet, so it was very relaxed which was nice. There were a lot of windows, as well, which meant great views of the lake and wide open fields surrounding the place. After having lived in a busy college town for the past nine months, it was honestly so fucking refreshing to go someplace so rural and secluded for once. Someplace where I don't have to hear cop cars and shitty rap music playing every goddamn minute. Just absolutely peaceful. My parents desperately wished they could stay longer, and even eat at this restaurant since it holds such fond memories for my dad but we had to get home for dinner as my grandmother was making a roast and we'd never hear the end of it if we were late. She was going to make it last night if my parents' were back by dinner but since they were out and didn't get home until 8pm, we had spaghetti instead. Dinner was so much fancier than I expected. Because of how many people we now have, and how small the kitchen table is, we ate in the dining room instead with the fancy lace table cloth and the tall pink candles and fake flower centerpiece. We had the roast, baked potatoes, broccoli, and dinner rolls which was pretty good, but seeing as I'm not a huge fan of roasts to begin with (or broccoli that's not smothered in cheese), it wasn't my favorite meal. I still tried to eat as much as I could fathom anyways. For dessert, we had cherry pudding cake which was honestly fucking delicious, and my mom broke out the Bailey's chocolate malt ball things she bought at the candy store. I had never had Bailey's before so when I tried one, it was a totally new experience. I just wish someone had told me how much Bailey's tastes like coffee. I despise coffee and so the minute I stuck the thing in my mouth and bit down and all the liquid in the center filled my mouth, I felt like I was going to be sick. I had to run to the kitchen and spit it out in a paper towel, then chug some water and scarf down the pudding cake just to get the taste out of my mouth. So at least the pudding cake was delicious and definitely did the trick or else I would've been in huge trouble. As for my parents, or at least my mom, she was a hot mess by this point. One of the friends she met up with the other day has a father who makes his own wine which is dangerous enough for my addicted mother. She had two glasses of red wine at dinner that she had bought...somewhere and then with dessert, she had her friend's father "Chocolate Cherry Truffle" wine and damn was she feeling it. My mom doesn't get "drunk" anymore, necessarily, so much as she gets "tipsy." Her usual plateau is at three glasses of wine and I guess she's built up a tolerance to it to where she doesn't really get hangovers anymore, at least from wine. She used to, though. Funny how drinking something so much stops giving you the adverse effects after a while. But anyway, I could tell my mom was reaching the tipsy point and I was truthfully not very pleased. I hate when she gets like this, and fortunately enough living far away means I don't have to deal with it every day like I used to but that still doesn't mean I'm not bothered anymore when I do have to deal with it. I don't know if it was that or something else but after dinner, I honestly got really crabby? I kind of kept to myself the rest of the night, sitting on my air mattress in the formal living room and doing whatever. My grandparents watched the newest episode of NCIS tonight which honestly was really emotionally taxing and I didn't even fucking watch it. When I was in middle school, my best friend and I were in love with NCIS. We'd have sleepovers where we'd watch the episodes together and then we'd play pretend. I was always Abby. Always, always, always. She was my absolute favorite. I even remember one time we slept over at my best friend's grandmother's house and we made little fake NCIS badges and mine had Abby's name on it. I just loved her so fucking much, everything about her: her goth style, the music she'd play in her lab, her farting hippo. She was just the absolute coolest and I desperately wanted to be like her. I guess in a way Abby was another vehicle into my transition into the type of person I am today, since I wasn't really very alt back in middle school-- I never had the typical emo phase, though I became friends with emo kids in eighth grade-- but I feel like there was always something pulling me back into that scene that, as a little kid, I always yearned to be a part of (when I was four, I decided that as a teenager I would paint my walls black and listen to Green Day and Evanescence all the time and that I'd cut my hair shoulder-length and dye the tips bright red). Even though I haven't kept up with the series, and I haven't sat down to even watch reruns in years, Abby still holds such a special place in my heart and means so much to me so when I heard Pauley Perrette was leaving the show, I was admittedly a little sad but it didn't register in my brain the potential ways they would have her leave the show. As her final episode drew nearer and nearer, I kept seeing things on facebook about her saying goodbye to the character and the high-running emotions, how everyone would need multiple boxes of tissues, and something calling her an "angel" on the show's official facebook page. I suddenly grew terrified that they were going to kill her off. I was in the other room when the episode started, and I heard gunshots and people saying Abby was in horrible condition or whatever. I was convinced she was going to die and that was something I could not stand. I started envisioning her in the hospital bed with Gibbs at her bedside, and suddenly she'd start struggling and her heart rate would increase and then she wouldn't be able to breathe and then she'd flatline and that would be the end and Gibbs would tuck her hippo under her arm or something, and then at the funeral someone would make a quip about "Now we're all dressing like Abby" wearing black to the funeral and I just...my mind was racing and I couldn't stand to think that they'd actually do that even though I was 99% positive that would be the way things went. I was so anxious about it, and the thought of this was so goddamn intolerable, that I shut myself out from everyone and plugged in my screamo loud enough to block out the TV so that I wouldn't have to see or hear anything. I wanted to avoid Abby dying at all fucking costs. I didn't want to know. The hour in which the episode took place in felt like fucking forever and I kept checking the clock to see how much longer I had before it would all be over and I'd know if my suspicions were correct. The minute the episode was over, my mom came over and captured my attention with the verdict (spoilers ahead): she didn't die. For a second, I thought she was playing a trick on me. I thought she was only telling me what I wanted to hear so that I wouldn't be upset because let's fucking face it, if she did, in fact, die, we all know I would've treated it like I just lost a best friend I hadn't spoken with in years and would've cried my eyes out and been depressed for three days straight. My grandmom and dad confirmed that this was true, though (as well as the internet) and a gigantic swell of relief just completely washed over me. I was just so fucking happy she wasn't dead. Because of how panicked I was during the show's duration, though, it left me kind of emotionally drained a little short-fused the rest of the night. I stayed on my air mattress on my laptop for the rest of the night listening and waiting for when I could finally get some alone time. I desperately needed time to myself to recharge, and to recount the day's events like I'm doing right now. My parents went to bed around 9:30pm, which is typical. They can't stay up as late as they used to, and when they do it feels weird and unnatural. I was hoping my grandparents would head in shortly after but...nope. Of course not. Why would they? Instead, they were up until almost midnight. They can't hear for shit so they had the TV blasting all the negative bullshit on the news and I wanted to lowkey shoot myself. Despite how much fun I had today, I woke up way too early for my own good and didn't get enough sleep last night so by the time 10pm rolled around, I was super tired and was contemplating not even journalling the day so I could just get some sleep. It's hard to do that, though, when the old folks have the volume up to 80. It wasn't until 11:30pm when my Pop Pop decided to turn off the TV and head in, but that didn't mean my grandmom was following him. She was up for an extra 20 or so minutes dealing with the dishes so I still didn't quite get solace and silence. When she finally did head in, I thought I was finally in the clear but, again...not quite. Their bedroom door isn't far from where my air mattress is situated, and because the walls are thin and they can't hear for shit, I could hear their entire 20minute conversation before bed. Granted, I wasn't paying close enough attention to make out the content but I heard the droning voices just the same. I didn't get true quiet until about 12:15am which quite frankly drove me completely nuts. I am a very introverted person and I very desperately need at least peace and quiet in order to rest and recharge. The longer I stay at my grandparent's house, the more I'm finding that peace and quiet is hard to come by here. I love them to death, I really do, but at the same time a part of me is kind of excited I only have two days left here so I can finally get back home and fall back into the groove of my regular, everyday life where I'll be with my boyfriend and we can have our own alone time doing our own things and it's the same routine sounds that I can easily block out rather than elderly banter. I don't know, man, I know I sound insanely bitter and I really don't mean to. I don't want to be that person, you know? But I just...I get frustrated sometimes. At least now everyone is in bed, though, and I am the only one awake so I can just lay back and relax and spend some alone time...for the next five minutes before I completely pass out, at least. Because I have to wake up early and do it all again (the running around) tomorrow. I guess keeping busy is just a double-edged sword. 

[the-still-small-voice]

Permission to Create

There is an epidemic taking place. I’ll limit my judgement to American culture, since it’s the one I grew up in. I’m aware there are exceptions to the rule, but the toxicity seems to begin at the root. Not only did I grow up in America, but in the great and restless state of New Jersey, which often epitomizes the very problem I’m here to address: Creatives feel they are no longer “allowed” to create.

I started singing and performing for family members when I was three years old. I dedicated the foot of our family staircase as my stage. It was the same staircase where I first faced mortality. My mother sat me down at two years old to tell me about the death of a family member. It’s a moment I still remember despite being so young, and it was a peculiar foreshadowing of my later inclination to turn heartache into song.

Around ten, I began writing in the front yard of our suburban house, complete with white-picket fence. I had no instrument other than my voice and no concept of the “right way” to write a song, but I loved making lines rhyme over melody, and that was enough.

One night, while asleep at thirteen, I had a defining dream that I could play guitar fluidly. I was sitting in the entryway of my childhood church and people were coming from opposite directions - the outside doors and the sanctuary doors - to sit around me on the floor and listen. I woke up and told my parents. It inspired my dad to buy me my first guitar, and despite all previous attempts to play, this time it stuck. I spent hours in my bedroom learning songs and writing my own. I had no teacher - I just learned whatever I needed to learn for the next thing I was trying to do. Then, naturally, I recorded videos of the songs and sent them to whichever boy I happened to be interested in.

In my mind, there was never another option for what I’d do with my life. I tried exploring the music realm for something worthy of a college major, but I had no interest in teaching. I didn’t know how to locate a four-year college with a great recording program, and thank God, because otherwise, I’d be in-debt for an education I could’ve gotten on YouTube before proving myself someone’s worthy unpaid intern.

I love education. I love learning and reading about all topics (minus math). I won’t sit here and pretend I don’t care what people think, but when it comes to maintaining the status-quo, I’ve always erred on the side of rebellion (sometimes to my detriment, though often to my benefit). I never saw the logic in paying $20,000 - $40,000 per year for an education that wasn’t even streamlined in the direction I hoped to go (rock-stardom) in order to satisfy my high-school guidance counselor.

(Side-note: I swear to God, if Belmont University offered a “Rockstar 101” class, they could probably afford to purchase the rest of Nashville within the first year.)

So there I was, left with no formula, in a section of the country that isn’t exactly defined by it’s creative endeavors once you remove the majestic works of Bruce Springsteen and Jon Bon Jovi. I was incredibly lucky to have parents who supported me both in music and in finances, but they also wanted me to learn how to function in everyday life. This resulted in their emphasizing what I considered to be petty nuisances; things such as: budgeting, household chores, and holding down a day-job.

My brain was so caught up in the philosophical (and episodes of Laguna Beach), that I struggled with the idea of simple day-to-day responsibilities (still do). I saw my parents’ attempts to teach me the benefits of discipline as nagging, and it paralyzed me. I assumed I must have been devastating them with my irresponsibility. Really, they wanted to cultivate my potential.

I didn’t have any notion for how fiscal responsibility or time management could affect my creative life. I was seventeen! I was trying to write sad songs and smoke cigarettes to fit in (and not fit in). I didn’t care about having money for the mere sake of having it, which seemed to be what so many people around me were doing - hoarding their paychecks to feel the illusion of safety that a number on a bank statement could bring. I wanted to play music and see the world. I didn’t have the mental capacity, since the human brain isn’t even fully developed until somewhere around twenty-five, to correlate working a job with pursuing my art. I didn’t contemplate the fact that maybe I’d want to build a home studio one day or buy a house in a city with a booming market so I could save on rent, work less, and write more. If I’m being honest, I still have a really hard time staying motivated, but I’ve learned a few tricks along the way. 

Things like:

1. A Positive Environment Changes Everything.

In Nashville, there’s no end to the misery of the stifled artist. The food industry is one of the best places to work if you’re a touring musician. You have plenty of co-workers to cover shifts, and at some restaurants, six months of reliable service is enough to deify you (or at least grant you the ability to ask for favors), but they can also be a real soul-sucker. Aside from grown men pitching fits over untimely refills on their Diet Cokes, I can recall a co-worker whose hours were triple my own. He was working to pay off loans from the aforementioned university, and now he didn’t even have time to make the music he’d spent $200,000 to study.

As much as I sympathize with the over-worked creative, submersing yourself in an environment of people who’ve had their dreams crushed can be toxic to your own. They feel they’re no longer permitted to pursue what they once loved because the so-called “real world” has hit them like a brick to the face. If you’re not careful, you’ll soon find yourself commiserating over one-too-many beers and accepting artichoke dip as the extent of your life’s calling.

You are an artist. That means you are intuitive. If you walk into a job interview and everyone in the building is trudging around grimacing and muttering complaints about their existence, do yourself a favor and find a different place to work. Creativity is energy, and what you spend it on matters.

2. Your Time is Valuable.

I’m twenty-eight years old with over fifteen years of childcare experience. I’m CPR certified and trained in First Aid, yet I still have a hard time asking for more than $12 an hour to keep people’s children from sticking their fingers into electrical sockets. Meanwhile, the average cocktail costs $12 and takes about fifteen minutes to disappear. I’m afraid of “offending” someone, even subtly, by stating my own worth, and THAT, my friends, is half the reason why the music industry has gone to shit, in my humble opinion.

Thankfully, artists are resilient. We find uncanny ways to support ourselves in order to keep creating, even if it involves borderline pleading with our friends to pre-order an album or trading gear on craigslist to make ends meet. Then, after all the effort, we have the privilege of listening to our extended family members complain about how we’re “always asking for something on ‘The Facebook’.”

The South lends itself to a sense of community, but in the region where I grew up, asking for help was often equated with weakness. You don’t borrow your neighbor’s lawnmower. Instead, you work until you can buy a brand new one, preferably nicer than theirs.

All this to say: you are allowed to put a price on the things you need to do to survive in order to alleviate pressure from the things you want to do. You’ll have more time to create and you’ll feel less drained. I am by no means claiming you should do your day job and then give away your creative endeavors for free (a sure way to be taken advantage of), but you will do some of your best work when paying your rent isn’t hanging in the balance. As time passes, if you stick to your guns, you’ll find people who are more than willing to pay you for your skillset because your experience and passion will be evident, shining through in conversation. You’ll sound like you know what you’re talking about because you do know what you’re talking about, and that’s when you quote them exactly what you know you’re worth.   

3. Art is Work

If something takes time and energy, it is work. That’s just science, y’all. When you start pursuing a career and taking risks in your chosen field (i.e. going on a tour, fundraising for a record, or moving to a different city), you WILL encounter naysayers. People who are creatively blocked, or don’t believe themselves to be creative, will inevitably question you. You’re rocking the boat, and it makes them uncomfortable. Some will be inspired by your efforts, while others who haven’t felt inspiration in years, interpret it as condemnation - as if your differing priorities are a subtle attempt to shame their own. Suddenly, you feel obtrusive for simply talking about your dreams.

The easiest way to tell who has an alcohol problem at a party is by casually mentioning you’re not drinking - then wait to see who tries to pour tequila down your throat. It’s the same with risk-taking: the ones who barrage you with questions about how you’ll make money or say things like, “You know, men don’t like strong women”, are the ones subconsciously wondering what might’ve happened if they hadn’t surrendered their entire existence to the promise of a 401K.

Is there anything wrong with a 401K? Of course not. (I had to Google the definition, but it sounds pretty okay!) What’s not okay is acting as the voice of cynicism and chopping away at someone’s dreams just because they chose to take a different, less security-oriented path. Thankfully, we get to choose to ignore those voices.

Work: “Activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result.”

Granted, there is a secondary definition that involves “employment for the sake of earning income”, but the primary definition of work is rooted in a sense of purpose, while the second involves a focus on money. The irony is that so much of what we do to achieve a sense of purpose involves no money, while much of what we do for money seemingly involves no purpose. The goal is to find what inherently gives us a sense of meaning and then, without shame, gradually let the mental and physical effort we put forth provide for us monetarily as well.

We can absolutely pursue our passions while having unrelated day jobs, but there are only 24 hours in a given day, and we should be sleeping for a third of them. If you want your craft to become full-time, you’ll have to channel your energies in a way that eventually releases you from the hours spent wiping tables or sitting in a cubicle. Balancing family life, physical and mental health, and pursuing inspiration in the form of reading, travel, and rest are not luxuries - they are the foundation of a thriving human life. We are allowed to remove what doesn’t serve us or find a way to better make it serve us. For instance: asking for a well-deserved raise so you can spend less hours at work and more hours in a studio or with your children isn’t brash or selfish, it’s actually the most responsible thing.

Here’s what happened to me: I trusted my gut and moved to a different city the week before I turned 22. Shortly thereafter, I started playing shows, making an album, and meeting tons of new people, but I was also a very small fish in a very big pond. This was equally as difficult as it was necessary to my growth as an artist. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hit what I thought were impenetrable emotional walls trying to salvage a sense of confidence or originality. On any given day, at any given restaurant, I inadvertently share space with Grammy-award winners. I’m not exaggerating - I once showed up to a random babysitting job to find FOUR Grammys sitting on top of their father’s desk. How the hell am I supposed to ever feel like a real musician?

It comes down to this: I choose to. I’m reminded of the truth - that this little indie-artist is just as worthy of the label “musician” as those who’ve won awards or been on television. Plus, If I actually think about it, winning a Grammy has never been a personal goal. So why am I gauging my definition of success against those who have what I don’t even want? I’m a musician because I play music whether or not people are watching.

Now when I go home, the same people who questioned my choices and intentions think I’m living a revolutionary existence simply because I’ve been on a few short (self-booked) tours and saw Kelly Clarkson in person once. The point is: If you learn how to climb the walls, you end up stronger. The naysayers either come around or end up on the other side of the wall. A mere few years after people are done discouraging you for your work, they’ll be applauding you for it, or they just won’t have anything to say at all. You will ALWAYS fall somewhere different on the “success” spectrum depending on where you are and who you are around, but if you haven’t decided you’re allowed to be an artist, you’re going to let other people decide for you - and if you don’t decide to get off of that roller coaster, it’s going to inevitably make you sick.

One more thing:

As artists, we are constantly biting the bullet. We feel anxiety and act in spite of it. We get vulnerable on stages in front of complete strangers. We work for years with no guarantee of money or recognition. We often find ourselves as sacrifices on the altar of opinion without ever asking to be there. We strive to balance strength with sensitivity, but no one gets to tell us we’re lazy.

My band played a show in Atlanta a few weeks ago, and here’s what our day looked like:

-Wake up at 6am to meet at a central location.

-Load gear into the van.

-Drive 5 hours (with stops).

-Meet up with our fill-in keyboardist.

-Unload gear into his house.

-Practice for three hours.

-Re-load gear back into the van.

-Drive to the venue.

-Unload gear out of the van into aesthetically unpleasing green room.

-Set up merch.

-Wait three hours.

-Sound-check.

-Play the show.

-Talk to people and sell merch.

-Reload gear back into the van AGAIN.

-Drive 4 hours back to Nashville.

-Get home at 2am so no one misses work the next day.

I repeat: No one gets to tell us we’re lazy.

4. “What Do You Want?”

I’ve was technically unemployed for the last two months, though not for lack of searching. As of writing this, I’ve been hired at two different coffee shops, but up until a few days ago I’d been forced into limbo - waiting on callbacks or jobs to actually start.

While not-working in the traditional sense, I’ve had time to, yet again, ask myself what I would LIKE to do. I spent much of the last month bouncing between searching for a local day job and pursuing freelance writing jobs online in order to find something that could travel with me.

After a co-writing session that turned into a two hour pep-talk with my friend Sam, I realized I had a knack for coaching people through their creative frustrations and songwriting hurdles. It hit me over the head like a lightning bolt, so naturally I spent the next week trying to find someone to tell me I wasn’t qualified. No one objected. In fact, most everyone I told deeply affirmed the idea with, “You should TOTALLY do that. You’re made for it!” (I have really good people in my life). Now, slowly but surely, I’m being paid to do it for others because I know how to cultivate a safe space for fledgling (or simply intimidated) artists, after having waded through many of the same trenches myself.

If you’re a driven person over the age of twenty-five, there’s a significant chance you have ten to fifteen years of experience doing SOMETHING that someone else is just starting out doing. There’s also a significant chance they’d desperately love to process with someone further along than they are. Again, I don’t have four Grammys on any of my shelves (I barely have shelves), but I do know what it’s like to wonder if my lyrics are worth showing the world, and I do know the paralyzing terror of hearing your voice played back over speakers for the first time.

The question, “What do you want?” is one of the most dangerous and profound questions you can ask or be asked. Growing up in a dysfunctional church environment, I wasn’t allowed to ask it. I was supposed to ask: “What does GOD want me to do?” Conveniently, there were plenty of ill-intentioned leaders eager to answer on behalf of the congregation my family belonged to, and it usually involved God being suddenly strapped for cash.

A poor sense of the nature of God (the Universe, Creator, Energy, or whatever works for your vocabulary) led me to assume I was required to do the complete opposite of whatever I enjoyed.

“I want to play music on stages where people connect with the songs I’ve written. But that’s clearly egotistical. I guess I’ll have to become a missionary to Africa” (crazy how many of those God seems to need per youth group).

“You have free will and God loves you unconditionally…

But that thing you’ve always dreamed of doing? Not allowed.”

What’s the deal with these mixed messages?

Honestly, what’s more egotistical? Wanting to play music in a band, or assuming God needs you to play the martyr because the salvation of Africa hangs in the balance of your life-choices?  Everybody, chill out.

We spend so much time doing things out of guilt. I’m not saying anyone should become intentionally calloused toward the needs of others, but do you really want a bunch of people at your birthday party who feel obligated to be there? The reason we become cynical is due, in-part, to forcing ourselves into environments, boxes, and facades we were never designed to be a part of in the first place. Try saying “no” to anything you would have done out of guilt or obligation for one week and watch how much healthier you feel and how much more energy you have. “I don’t want to” is a perfectly acceptable answer, and it will change your life and reshape your priorities faster than you can imagine.

So what if, just what if you were put on this earth to do the very thing you love doing? Far-fetched, I know, but let’s all stop pretending we know what the word “reality” means when few of us have been alive for more than eighty-five years. For God’s sake, we exist on a speck of dust floating through space.

Why not leave this place more beautiful and more inspiring than when we entered it? Can you fathom Michelangelo talking himself out of painting the Sistine Chapel? Imagine if he’d convinced himself to take the “humble-route” and pursued a behind-the-scenes life merely on the basis of comfort, but at the expense of his artistic instinct?

I can almost guarantee, if you’re the type of person who is hyper-concerned about becoming an egotistical maniac, you run little risk of it actually happening. Worry about how you’ll deal with fame when you’re actually famous - otherwise you’re wasting precious energy you could be using to fuel your present work. Plus, the world is already running rampant with much bigger ego-maniacs ruining things. The more you exercise your creative nature, the healthier you become. The healthier you become, the more effortlessly you can benefit those around you. Take a deep breath.

5. It Matters.

There’s enough garbage going on in the world. Any remotely sensitive person could easily fall prey to emotional paralysis simply by looking around for too long.

That’s exactly what happens. Whether it’s the pain of poverty or feelings of inadequacy when surrounded by other artists, we all have a difficult time creating because it feels like an uphill battle with no actual results - especially if we’re prone to discrediting ourselves. In a recent conversation with a beloved friend, he expressed feeling a sense of pointlessness when it came to writing new songs. He wasn’t writing out of a place of sadness anymore, and he felt like anything he could say had already been said by one of his influences with a larger fanbase. As a personal fan of his music, I wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him (I probably did).

I don’t care if you think your songs sound similar to someone else’s, there are people in the world who have never even heard of the “someone else” you are familiar with. A younger person may stumble upon your art, allowing you to become one of their influences because they happened to be at the right place at the right time and something in your voice resonated in them. The only way you get to decide who crosses paths with your work is by never putting it out there at all.

Redemption happens when all of the aforementioned garbage gets recycled into something even more extraordinary than it was in the first place.

This is the job of the artist: to open ourselves up like the vessels that we are, letting all the sadness and bullshit and divinity swirl around in us until a song spills out and the paint hits the canvas.

If we don’t, we end up miserable and withholding. The way fireflies light up entire forests simply by offering the individual flecks of light they inherently contain is a profound image of what we’re each endowed with, not just as creatives, but as living and breathing human beings.

6. Don’t Fake It (But For God’s Sake, Please Stop Being So Self-Deprecating).

I have a love/hate relationship with the phrase: “Fake it ’til you make it.” On one hand, I appreciate the concept of cultivating confidence through action, but the word “fake” has a disingenuous ring to it. What we’re actually talking about is a form of hyper-honesty.

Call yourself what you are. Stop pretending you are what you’re not. I am definitely not a surgeon, and pretending to be one would only result in a series of lawsuits. But there are things I can do and don’t do, simply by convincing myself I am not qualified enough despite plenty of evidence to the contrary.

Imposter Syndrome: “a concept describing high-achieving individuals who are marked by an inability to internalize their accomplishments and a persistent fear of being exposed as a ‘fraud’.”

A few years ago, I showed up to a babysitting job I’d found online. A brand new mother had just moved with her husband from New York City and needed some occasional help watching her newborn son. She was a writer for any number of well-known music publications - Nylon, American Songwriter, etc. She’d also started her own Nashville music blog.

Naturally, I was somewhat intimidated, but I was just there to help with the baby - not try to promote myself. I wasn’t even comfortable enough in my songwriting skin to show my music to friends yet - but she politely asked me about my life and I mentioned it in passing.

One afternoon, after watching one of her artist interviews get derailed by technical difficulties, I sat down with my new journalist friend and her colleague as they drank a glass of wine and I held the baby. I commiserated, while trying to convince them it hadn’t gone nearly as badly as they thought it had. We chatted for a while when, out of nowhere, she directed a question at me:

“You said you play music right?”

“Uhh...yeah?” I said nervously. (I knew exactly where this was going.)

“Will you play us a song? I’m gonna go grab my husband’s guitar.”

“You really don’t have to...”, but she was upstairs before I had time to talk her out of it.

She came back downstairs, acoustic guitar in hand, and I nervously chose one of my songs to play while I kept my eyelids tightly sealed. After all was said and done, both women looked at me dumbfounded. They’d really liked it, and the novelty of living in a city where your babysitter doubles as a decent songwriter hadn’t worn off yet (after a few years, we all safely assume our Uber driver has played Conan at least once).

Without reading a single blog I’d ever posted, hearing another song, or even knowing my education level, she offered me the opportunity to write for her website. It could be as often or as little as I wanted, and while she couldn’t pay me, she could get me into nearly any show I wanted to cover for free.

I took her up on the offer, and what started as free entry into shows turned into, “Hey, do you want to grab a quote from the artist? Here’s their contact email”.

The first time this happened, it was literally hours before the show, and I boldly decided I was going to ask for a full-on interview and see if I could get away with looking like I knew what the hell I was doing. That night, I proceeded to interview Andrew Joslyn, violinist and head of Passenger String Quartet, who were touring as David Bazan’s backing band at the time. Our interview struck up a friendship and resulted in eating late-night food with everyone after the show.

After the first impromptu interview went well, I was asked if I wanted to interview the band Copeland. I recorded the answers to their questions on my shattered iPhone 4 and again, felt the high of an opportunity I had zero formal education in. There are people who go to college for years just hoping to sit down with an artist they respect in order to write a piece and see it published. I was doing it because I’d shown up to the right babysitting job and someone decided to tell me I could be a writer if I wanted to be. All I had to do was take her up on the offer and not shy away from it.

It happened again a few weeks ago. I was able to walk into Grimey’s Record Store an hour before the band Manchester Orchestra released their newest album. I chatted with a bunch of high-profile music industry people (only because I have no idea who they are when I start talking to them). I even got up the nerve to ask Andy Hull for a few words, all while secretly tipping my hat to my teenage self.

And guess what? No one cared. No one kicked me out or said, “Hey, I can’t put my finger on it, but you seem like you don’t belong here.” I was doing exactly what I was there to do. The only person who thought I was getting away with anything was me. I even ran into a friend who’d been specifically hired by the band (and previously, many other reputable artists) to take photos at the cd release. We shared a mutual moment of: “How did we end up here?” 

If I had decided “I’m not a writer, I don’t know how to do this,” or shied away from drafting an email to someone’s publicist for fear of not sounding professional enough, I’d have missed out on these rare chances to ask artists who make me want to play music, what makes them want to play it.

The moral of the story isn’t to name drop or look “cool” (spoiler alert: I’m not). It’s no exaggeration when I say that, immediately after that cd release show I headed to a pet-sitting job to scoop cat litter. Life is interwoven with highs and lows, and misery stalks you the moment you begin over-identifying with any title. But I think maybe, if we took all of the energy we spend on trying to make our lives appear a certain way, and funneled it into saying “yes” to what we’re actually passionate about, we’d be astounded at the places we find ourselves and the (sometimes, very specific) gifts we are handed.

So if you have something you love doing, the only pretending involved is saying you don’t love it or you can’t do it. Sometimes you go out on a limb, but more often than not, it pays off. Sometimes you work for years without any pay all, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of the title, the same way the title “Mother” and “Father” don’t come attached to a salary.

Stay humble. Take the good with the bad. Successes are often followed by a litter box that needs cleaning. Don’t forget about the people who love you regardless of social standing. Know your worth is inherent and not dictated by what you do. If this sounds reasonable, then by all means, just go do the damn thing.

7. Pay Attention

The mundane is not my forte. In fact, I can book entire tours and endless road trips simply to avoid the dreaded monotony of everyday life. In part, it’s human nature - familiarity can breed contempt, but only if you let it.

It’s too easy to cop out of life when it isn’t exciting. Rather than defining the act of “growing up” as a mandatory selling of your soul to the corporate gods, what if we saw it as true maturity - a realization that the good and the bad aren’t always so cut and dry. In the previous story about how I fell into music blogging, I can almost guarantee that, while driving to babysit, I was thinking: “How much longer do I have to do these peasant jobs before I get to do something distinguished and significant?”

Well, years later, I’m still babysitting people’s kids and scooping cat litter. But I’ve also interviewed bands, toured with my own music, and now help people work through their artistic paralysis. If I’d been above taking care of someone’s son (a pretty significant job, actually), I wouldn’t have crossed paths with the same opportunities, or maybe I would have been too apathetic to recognize the things that were unfolding in ways I wouldn’t have predicted.

But let’s forget about the future for a moment.

Nothing is guaranteed. We are free to dream or watch television, go to church or not go to church, talk to the homeless person or walk past them because we don’t know how to respond. We will make mistakes. We will feel ill-equipped. We will tragically lose loved ones and wonder if there’s even a point in trying. Then, we may see art blossom from the depths of despair - not because we were aiming to make a concept album, (our minds wouldn’t dare to prostitute the heartache) but rather because, “art is born in attention.” - Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

Cameron goes on to say:

Art may seem to spring from pain, but perhaps that is because pain serves to focus our attention onto details (for instance, the excruciatingly beautiful curve of a lost lover’s neck). Art may seem to involve broad strokes, grand schemes, great plans. But it is the attention that stays with us; the singular image is what haunts us and becomes art. Even in the midst of pain, this singular image brings delight. The artist who tells you different is lying.

We don’t need to be sad to make art.

We simply need to be paying attention.

Maybe you’re up every day at the crack of dawn opening a coffee shop. You have five minutes to yourself before your co-workers all show up. You’re thinking about how much longer you can “keep doing this shit,” when you happen to notice the streaks of pink sky out the window as the sun is coming up. You take a deep breath. The steam from the coffee billows around your hands and the smell suddenly reminds you of a camping trip you took with your dad when you were seven.

Inspiration is limitless. It is unwarranted and uncontrolled. It seeps in like water and saturates anything even remotely permeable. So we must remain permeable, present, and open-handed. Yes, there is benefit to having discipline in order to actively create (the only reason I was able to drag myself out of bed and into writing today), but if you aren’t allowing inspiration in, what can you expect to put forth? If you can’t take a moment to breathe, even in the midst of work - to thank life for a second of stillness and for letting you be a part of it, then your attempts at productivity will likely be met with frustration.

It is in your nature to create. You think it’s in your nature to work a desk-job you hate for nine hours a day for the rest of your life. You think doing so is “responsible”, but if you really contemplate it, it doesn’t make any sense.

You are a living organism - more closely related to a plant than to a robot. If you act in accordance, you’ll see what happens when you begin trusting yourself to do what you were born to do. You’ll see what happens when, instead of making assumptions about coworkers, you realize they each contain a universe within themselves and have a story to tell. Unexpectedly, you not only see them through a new lens, but you see yourself differently. Your spine straightens with a sense of purpose and you go home to channel what you’ve seen, heard, and tasted so tangibly all day into something that might even move someone else, should they choose to pay attention.

The only moment that exists to us is the one we are experiencing right now, so do your best to honor it. Stop trying to fix the past or manipulate the future. Each moment is building toward something greater than itself, but if we try to rush the process, our foundation gets half-built and the entire thing collapses on itself.

Instead, slow down. Look around. Take a deep breath.

We are overwhelmingly surrounded by wonder.

For creative coaching, email:  Christiana.Benton@gmail.com

[raisingsupergirl]

What Health Class Didn't Teach You About Life After 20

I remember the first time I realized I was getting "older." I had just turned twenty-five. I'd planted my right foot during a pick-up game of basketball, slipped on a wet spot on the floor, and felt a pop in my right hip. Self-diagnosed labral tear. No need for surgery, but it did click and pinch and frequently remind me that I wasn't as invincible as I once was. Shortly after that, I hurt my left knee—self-diagnosed meniscus tear. Also more of a nuisance than anything, but also a good reminder of my mortality. Then there was the back, the neck, the creeping weight-gain, the creeping hair loss, and the general creeping dread of my impending death... eventually. And never—not ONCE—did someone sit me down and warn me about all of this garbage. No advice on how to process it, overcome it, or even come to terms with it. So this is me, warning all of you twenty-and-thirty-somethings out there about what's to come. So listen up!

First off, there's the orthopedic stuff—all of the hip and knee and back issues that would have completely wrecked my future if I hadn't been a physical therapist. I've never had great insurance or money to burn on a bunch of fancy-pants doctors. The hip and knee things I might have ignored. But I also might have tried "working through it" too early, which would have only made things worse (possibly to the point of needing surgery). But the neck and the back? Those were two weight-lifting injuries that happened in quick succession that absolutely floored me. Like, literally. I couldn't get off of the floor because of pain. And even with my education and experience, I still allowed the injury to happen due to incorrect exercise form and habits. And there was a short time after the injury that I was doing the exact WRONG thing, making the herniated disc in my neck much worse. To the point that I ALMOST needed surgery for that one. And most people would have ended up there. It took over a year of rehab to get back to (mostly) pain-free, and there aren't many people who would have held out hope for that long.

So, my advice when it comes to acquired injuries? Be your own advocate. Take responsibility for your body. Remember that you only get one, and it's worth the time and effort to educate yourself on the best ways to take care of it. Ask a health professional friend (sorry, I'm busy). Make an appointment with a doctor who specialized in your injury, but also remember that most such specialists are surgeons, so their mind will usually gravitate toward surgery as the best option. It might be, but maybe also ask a physical therapist. Ask a chiropractor. And only AFTER you've asked enough professionals should you ask Google (unless you want to be told you have cancer literally every time). Then use all of that information like a grown adult. Write it all down. Compare and contrast the diagnoses and treatment options. Consider your needs regarding finances, recovery time, and desired outcomes. But remember: you only get one body. Any injury you decide to "live with" could potentially just keep getting worse until you stop living. And finally, above all else—no… wait. I'll tell you the most important thing a little later. First, let's talk about the OTHER stuff nobody ever warned me about.

The Great Hair Migration. It's a thing. It gathers on your head when you're young, but then it gets too tired to climb to the top. Instead, it starts sprouting out of your ears, your nose, your back... pretty much everywhere EXCEPT your head. Your mileage may vary, but it happens to everyone to some extent. For me, it started out as a receding hairline in my mid-twenties. The thing is, it happened so slowly that I doubted its existence. A wispy white hair here. Some more shiny forehead there. Then one day someone complimented my comb-over, and my life was over. Dead. Gray hair was one thing (even kind of cool in some ways). Going bald was another matter entirely. It's been over a decade since then, and the thinning has continued. Recently, I considered Rogaine or Propecia, but the former is too much work for no guaranteed results, and the latter is too much money with some, uh, undesirable potential side-effects. Then there's all the organic and alternative treatments that have little to no efficacy with plenty of dollar signs attached. No thanks. So, if I'm not going to recommend medical intervention, what IS my advice? Cut your hair. The shorter, the better. It looks less like a comb-over, and when the time comes that you have to start shaving it, it won't be as much of a shocker. Unless you're a woman. In which case, you CAN shave it, but maybe look into a nice wig first. Oh, and then there's the best advice... but I'm still saving that for later. First...

Belly flab! Back flab! Butt flab! Where does this stuff come from? Cheeseburgers, that's where. And cookies. And chocolate cake. Heck, even protein smoothies and chicken breasts are to blame. Calories in > calories out = weight gain. That's science. When you burn less calories than you shovel down your throat, your body stores the excess "energy" in fat cells. You know, just in case you need to tap into those fat reserves to survive a harsh winter or whatever. Evolution definitely hasn't kept up with 1st-world probs. But I'm not going to complain too much. I'm not overweight. Never have been. But I AM human. And like all humans, my metabolism started slowing down in my twenties—because we all basically start dying after puberty, and a part of that is slower processing and utilization of energy because dying people don't need as much fuel (which is also why we don't need as much recovery sleep and why we don't have that youthful energy forever). Yay!

So I started gaining weight. My new "normal" went from 170 lbs to 180 lbs. Then 190. Then I broke 200. Then I broke down. I learned that a dozen cookies right before bed would float around in my body all night until I tucked them away in my fat cells. I learned that a little bit of exercise (especially anything that builds muscle) goes a LONG way. And I learned that there's a certain point when eating thirty hot wings in one sitting is no longer a wise life choice. My advice? Nothing new. Exercise consistently (without herniating a disc in your neck) and appreciate WHAT you're eating, not how MUCH you're eating. Enjoying things in moderation actually improves your appreciation for them. At least, it does for me. And, of course, there's that most important piece of advice that it's almost time for. After we talk about...

Complete and utter decline of mental health because of ALL THE THINGS. I joke, but there's so much truth to this as we ease from childhood structure to adult freedom. Yes, adults are free (until we create our own prisons). As kids, our lives are fairly linear. Sure, we all had hobbies and preferences, but for the most part, we have one goal for the first eighteen years of our lives—learn what we're supposed to learn so we can avoid punishment and graduate from high school. For some of us, that structured bliss continues for a few more years. But eventually, we're all cut loose into the wild blue.

We can do literally ANYTHING (well, not "literally," but, yeah, anyway). Sure, there are some social norms to give us a little framework. Jobs, spouses, kids, taxes, retirement plans. But what's our PURPOSE? Why did we work so hard for those diplomas? How are we going to leave our marks on humanity and history? Do we NEED to leave marks? Is everything meaningless? Or just the things that OTHER people care about? Thankfully, humans are pretty good at assigning value to mundane things, and if we go about it the right way, we might even find some things that TRULY matter. So, what's my super-profound advise that you've all been waiting for? What's the secret to aging gracefully and finding the meaning of life?

Honestly? I have no idea... But only because I'm not you. I know what's worked for me, but that's because I know myself better than anyone. So my best advice has been there all along: look at yourself in the mirror and embrace your own unique changes. Embrace the customized adventures and challenges created just for you. Find your own answers and your own way in your own time. Don't expect someone else to hand them to you (especially not in a blog post). Don't bury your questions and fears. Don't drown them with self-medication or temporary distractions or someone else's ideas of success. And don't assume it's just a phase. Because it's not. It's your life.

Come to terms with the fact that you WILL acquire some injuries that can't be fixed. You WILL gain some weight. You WILL lose some hair. You won't be as clever as you once were, and you'll wake up some mornings wondering what the purpose of everything is. And, of course, you'll eventually die. We're not MEANT to live forever. Ultimately, something will end us no matter how hard we try to beat everything back. And if we only focus on living as LONG as we can, we'll forget to live as WELL as we can. And living "well" probably won't look the same for you as it does for someone else. To be honest, it's not the end of the world if you never run that marathon or beat those punks at basketball. Heck, it doesn't even really matter if you never have kids or find a cure for cancer. Rather, those things don't have any INTRINSIC value. Who cares if the human race dies off? Do you think anything else will really miss us?

So what DOES matter? Well, whatever you assign value to. Whatever you take the time to contemplate, plan, and dedicate yourself to. If that thing is a lush head of hair, start popping Propecia like your life depends on it (I wouldn't recommend that life path, but who am I to judge?). If it's commitment to a loving God (a path that I WOULD recommend, but again, you do you, boo), start keeping an eye out for every opportunity to truly listen to others and share the Good News with them. But mostly, don't get so hung up on the fact that you're dying. It's really not a big deal unless you MAKE it a big deal. Instead, focus on life. It looks a little different to all of us, and every day is a different gift. Enjoy each and every one in all of its broken, wrinkly, chaotic glory.

And don't say I didn't warn ya.

[hellongtraveller-blog]

More Tips for International Travelers

Two days ago, I listed 10 tools I find necessary every time I travel in, along with a lot of relevant tips. Today, I have more suggestions, this time not connected to any special tool or tool.

Since most of my trips as an adult consisted of Tips for International Travelers

 long trips abroad, these tips tend to be more useful for Americans traveling abroad for two weeks or more. (Although there are a couple that apply only to short trips). I really can not change it; it is who I am and what I know. But I'd like to see some of your best comments tips for people who have to make shorter, more action-oriented trips (I've only made one trip in my entire life).

It may also be helpful to know where my head is when I travel. In the "Tao Travel", she expressed horror in the way tourists travel. The aim of my disdain is not tourism. What bothers me is creating small "bubbles" of people who are like ourselves, isolating us from the culture of the places we travel to. Of course, you should visit historical sites, museums, famous music halls and the best restaurants (if you can), but you should also spend time in a small park just around the corner, have a beer at the local bar, buy food from a street vendor, Residential streets.

Above all, you have to meet people, regardless of language barriers. I have always found that the cultural wall between us is only a foot and a half high: it is easy to stop it with a little effort. Use the best possible approximation of your language and listen carefully to your broken English; share freely and freely take what you want to share with you. Otherwise, everything is just beautiful pictures.

Well, the time for the sermon is over! It's time to follow the tips:

Use your debit card

It was time when traveler's checks were the surest way to take money from abroad, but those days are over. In fact, I'm not really sure how traveler checks work: debit cards work to make traveler's checks completely useless. They were always a nuisance, anyway. Unless you have stayed at a hotel that offers travelers checks as a guest service, it was almost impossible to spend or spend them. In any case, today, there are very few places where you can not find a cash machine to withdraw money, and of course you can use debit cards as credit cards for most purchases. Yes, you will pay a fee, but it is quite similar to the rate you pay for traveler's checks.

You can locate ATMs in the countries you visit in Plus and Cirrussites. There are three Maestro / Cirrus ATMs in Manzini, Swaziland, for example.

Get used to local currencies

If you really work in a country and win a local currency, the faster you can, the better you can convert currency rates to your local currency, the better. Each country has its own standard, and getting used to it is a great step towards understanding the local mentality.

On the other hand, if you are visiting only, you must be careful how to spend money. It may be easy to overlook your expenses when the local currency is an odd number for the dollar. My advice is, suggest an easy-to-convert formula, and compile it so that your estimate is always less than you think.

For example, in Best Travel Destinations Budapest in the mid-1990s, the local currency was about 110 Ft per dollar (if I remember correctly). Assuming that the Furnt was equal to one per cent of the United States. UU. , I can easily decide what is worth spending my money, and I know I was already saving a bit in the deal. For example, if the local currency was 1643 units per dollar, I would call them between 3000 and 2, or 5,870 people, $ 4. The actual price would be about $ 3.50, so I would be out, but I would be overseas would save me money, which is much better than the reduction because the local currency confused you.

  Dress well

Everyone can recognize an American tourist on the street, even before he opens his mouth. The uniform for our travel is jeans or shorts, shirt, sneakers and baseball cap for men; in women, it is short skirt, jeans or shorts and sleeveless blouse, along with a pair of sandals.

This guide will help you break your limits and overcome any challenge you have to live your best life.

The problem is that in a world where many people think badly of Americans, our holiday clothes send a message that we do not respect them or their culture. In addition, you will find many places, churches, cathedrals, some restaurants and many clubs, they will not let you in!

You do not need a suit and tie, but you'll be surprised by what khaki pants or knee-length dresses do for the responses you get from locals.

Rip your guides

There are some great guide books out there. I am partial to Lonely Planet Books, Myself. A good guide not only provides you with an idea of ​​what to see and where it is located, but also gives you basic information about the culture, history and language of the places you visit.

The problem is that they are huge. Do not want to carry this heavy and heavy thing around the world with you, and do not want to give it too much of your valuables.

Solution: Break it. Only remove the parts of the country or cities you will visit, and attach them to the ziplock bag. When you leave a country, throw it away, or better still, take it to a less prepared traveler without a guide called your country.

Delivery of invitation cards

I hope you meet a lot of people along the way. Best Travel Destinations Carry a small set of business cards with the size of a business card with your name, address, e-mail address (and any other information you want to share) to connect to the people you want to stay in touch with. You can make them invent themselves as ordinary business cards, print them on home business cards or be creative and use a service like Moo to make cards with photos of you, your family, and your city.

Learn 10 sentences

One of the things that contributes significantly to the bad image that Americans (and to a large extent the British and Australians) also have abroad is our relative ignorance of all languages, except English (and let's be honest, we are not much in agreement with English). Although you can not expect to learn the native language of each country you visit, at least you can make an effort to pick up some jokes. Learn to say at least one of the following in the language of the country you are visiting:

Hi

Good-bye

Thanks

please

My name ...

do you speak English

Where is the bathroom?

where is the train station?

How much does it cost?

Figures 1 through 20.

I remember a phrasebook I once included "Will you marry me?" , Which has always seemed funny to me. If this happens, you may also have to learn it.

Most people will know immediately that you do not speak their language, but that is not the topic. The point is to show that you are trying and give them a little laugh (with you, hopefully, but sometimes with you). Then they can feel comfortable with their own English (which, in any case, may be as good as your language).

  Incredible trick of disposable underwear

Travel Guide One way to reduce pregnancy during travel is to take all your underwear: with holes, belts, etc. Never ignore old lingerie if it is still portable and always plans to travel! Instead, take it on your journey and ignore it altogether. I was going to throw it at home, anyway. Of course, if you go to another couple or two, you may want to buy more ...

Take the bus!

Take bus or other public transport whenever possible. It's a great way to get your results in a quaint city and sightseeing, including many points of interest that may not appear in your guide. Frankly, it's also a good idea in the US. I remember taking a group of friends, all of them New Yorkers and New Jerseyers, on a bus to New York City's Mile Museum; none of them took an urban bus in New York City, and everyone was impressed by its beauty.

[Enter your advice here]

Travel is all about creativity, so keep your eyes always open to see creative ways to deal with anything that will throw you into a new culture.

For those who believe that number 10 is an escape, here's another tip: follow the tour groups. Whenever you pass a group of tourists in museums and even on the street, adjust your way to match the group's route in the tour. You will get a little history from someone who knows very well what they are talking about. You do not have to follow the whole journey, just take advantage of someone in a public place to talk about what they're offering.

[webanalytics]

Unsexy Fundamentals Focus: User Experiences That Print Money

Like me, I'm sure you are working on complex challenges when it comes to data.

Multi-petabyte data warehouses. Multi-touch, cross-channel attribution analysis. Media mix modeling. Predictive analytics. Human-centric analysis. Oh, and let's not forget the application of machine learning to every facet of your work.

It is genuinely fun to work on these opportunities. They’re difficult, and every step forward offers a renewed sense of excitement and inspiration.

Despite the joy in these high-level, forward-thinking initiatives, I've disciplined myself not to let the unsexy fundamentals go overlooked. I’m particularly vigilant about avoiding friction in the core systems that facilitate the flow of money into the company and beloved products out of it.

So today, that valuable reminder for you kicked off via a case study inspired by Condé Nast. To inspire, and jump-start, a change in your focus, we’ll also look at Heal, Facebook and prAna.

Before we proceed with the stories… The unsexy fundamentals in this post focus on user experience. If you are a reader of my newsletter, The Marketing < > Analytics Intersect, you’ve seen me apply it to metrics (last TMAI was on Bounce Rate), reports, frameworks and more. The concept touches all facets of our professional universe.

Condé Nast | A Story of Unrequited Love.

Condé Nast is in a world of hurt, along with everyone else in the print business. In 2017, they've twice replaced the company's Chief Revenue Officer. They are pursuing a variety of digital experiments, and it remains unclear whether any of them will stick (unlike the New York Times, where new initiative such as "The Daily" podcast and T Brand Studio have proven overwhelmingly successful).

You might assume that Condé Nast, through these changes and new initiatives, would have solved the fundamental issue of subscriber retention.

Join me on that journey.

I love The New Yorker.

"Love" is an understatement. I ADORE The New Yorker magazine. I love David Remnick. And Amy Davidson and Sheelah Kolhatkar and John Cassidy and Jia Tolentino and… all of 'em. Hence, I'm proud to be a paying subscriber. The nourishment that your soul craves is in The New Yorker, and I encourage you to consider your own subscription.

As I almost exclusively read the articles online, I visited the website to switch to digital-only (from digital + print) when my subscription expired in October.

I recall this simple task posing a surprising challenge. I was busy, and ultimately, I gave up. Last week, in my guilt for reading articles online for free, I decided to try again.

The first step was to log into my New Yorker account.

I was already logged into the site and thus found this to be a bit of a nuisance. But, no biggie.

Post-login, I was taken to my profile page, where under the Edit button I received a lovely reminder of my tardiness.

[Full disclosure: The New Yorker, starting May 2017 had sent me at least 14 reminder letters via postal mail with a form to complete fill out and return with a check. I don't know who does this anymore, certainly not us. I want to add that I did not get a single reminder via email – with a direct link to renew. This despite the fact that The New Yorker has my email address, and it would be cheaper to send me 14 emails than printed letters. Clearly, the Department of Postal Mail is vigorous at Condé Nast.]

I clicked on Customer Care (but not before taking a tangent to explore what "Amazon Digital Subscriptions Manager" is, turns out to be the most expensive way to get a subscription to the magazine!).

Amazingly, I was asked to log in again, this time on a completely new domain.

It was a bit odd to see the captcha. I wonder just how many hackers are dying to access the Condé Nast subscription website to help process renewals!

Mildly irritated, I did as I was asked.

Once again, I was presented with a summary of my account, and I began scanning for my next action.

I simply wanted to change my subscription from digital + print to just digital, and to know what it will cost.

I scanned my options on the left navigation, with few promising options.

I give "Renew" a try.

Wrong choice.

My only choice was to up the game to two years.

I wondered what the Wired cross-sell says about New Yorker subscribers. Had it been tested?

I re-focused.

Next, I tried "Digital Access." It seemed to smell right.

Wrong choice again.

This just told me how to access the magazine anytime, anywhere! :)

Back to exploration mode.

(At this point, I was not irritated. I realized there was a lesson to be learned. So I began taking screenshots of this unnecessarily painful journey, wondering if any Condé Nast employee had ever tried to change their personal subscription.)

I revisited "Manage Your Subscription," to make the next best choice: "Adjust auto-renewal."

Right choice? No. Wrong again.

I didn't want to update my credit card.

This, I was forced to resort to the last bastion of the frustrated: "Subscription FAQs."

I hate FAQs; they are almost always useless. Will Condé Nast prove to be the one exception to the rule?

"How can I renew my New Yorker subscription," seemed somewhat promising. I dutifully choose "clicking here."

Wrong choice.

I was right back to where I started, amazed that this company is in so much trouble financially but won't offer someone desperate to pay them a seamless way to do so.

Left to the footer, I clicked "Subscribe." At that point, what did I have to lose?

This took me to a third site, where, finally I was able to choose a digital-only subscription!

No. Not really.

This is a "12 Weeks for $12" offer that only applied to new subscribers. This offered no path for an existing subscribers.

What was even more frustrating — massively so — is that there was also no answer to my other question: How much would a digital-only subscription cost?

In fact, on this subscription page (the one I linked to when recommending The New Yorker above), there is no way to determine how much The New Yorker costs per year.

Let me say that again. If you are trying to subscribe — new or returning — Condé Nast does not tell you the annual subscription cost!

#OMG

What kind of con are these people running?

This put me at my wit's end. I'd failed to give them my money.

I revisited the second site to select "Chat Now."

Having logged in three times, as indicated in the top-right corner, I am asked once again to supply my credentials.

I waited an eternity for the chat session to start, completely absent of any status indication (x minutes remaining, or you are 10th in the queue).

Bored, I jumped back to the other window to tinker.

That's where I noticed the suddenly appealing "Cancel" link. Click!

I found the three choices intriguing.

How many of those who visit the page to cancel their subscription would like to improve the experience? (It was also not clear what "experience" meant.)

I opted to "Reconsider and save $10," simply because I love The New Yorker, and I wasn't going to give up on them. I am going to subscribe no matter how inept Condé Nast is.

A friendly message informed me that I was to wait for an email containing my $10 discount.

Why do I have to wait, I wondered.

Did Condé Nast have so many employees that someone was going to review my "case history" and validate my worthiness for the $10 discount, which, let me remind you, they offered proactively?

Ding!

My chat window came alive. Hurrah!

No. Not really.

"Leah" seemed unfamiliar with the Condé Nast platform. She directed me to pages I couldn't see, and asked me to go sign up for an intro offer which I knew I wasn't allowed to get (that was clear in the legal terms on the page).

After not helping at all, I admired her chutzpah in asking if she can help me with anything else.

Frustrated, I choose "End Chat."

I decided to wait for my $10. I felt I'd earned it by now.

Now, it has been a couple weeks. Crickets from Condé Nast.

Since I still love The New Yorker, I'm considering a digital subscription under my wife's name. She'll get 12 weeks for $12, which is sad as I want to pay full price.

12 weeks into that subscription, perhaps I'll finally come to find the full annual fee.

Ensuring loyal customers are able to renew and modify their subscription is the most fundamental of functions. It is not revolutionary to say that you really don’t want friction there.

Condé Nast has analysts upon analysts upon analysts. They have a world of user experience experts. I am genuinely and absolutely confident that these 400 people are executing large complex projects to save Condé Nast from financial trouble. None of them though thinks that that starts with something simple and fundamental: Fixing renewals. Or, telling people what a subscription actually costs.

To say that this breaks my heart is an understatement of galactic proportions.

Up next, you.

Condé Nast is hardly alone. I highly recommend a close self-evaluation to ensure that this isn't true for you as well.

To inspire prompt action by you, let me share a few more UX examples that are super-close to the company making money (the thing they/you should positively nail).

Heal | A Story Unfulfilled Forms.

Heal has an irresistible value proposition: They’ll send a doctor to your house!

I’m blessed to have health insurance. Still going to a doctor is such a pain, and even with an appointment the doctor makes me wait. Heal it is.

I install the mobile app, and proceed to making my first appointment.

The very first thing I have to enter is my date of birth. Seems reasonable.

Here’s the screen I get…

What!

What is the reasonable number of times the Heal UX team thinks a human should be expected to click the little < button to get to their date of birth?

I won’t tell you how old I am (very!), it is a lot of back clicks for me. A lot.

I just gave up.

For this article I opened the app again. There has to be a (hidden) better way.

I tried to click on “January 2018” hoping it pops up a calendar. No dice. I then clicked on “Sun, Jan 7.” Nope. Nothing else seems clickable. Looking… Scanning… Then, I clicked on the little “2018” on the top left. I get a list of years, score! I scroll, scroll, scroll, I’m old, scroll, and find my year of birth.

Consider this: You are a startup trying to upend the existing insane healthcare system. Should you have a simpler way to fill out the date of birth? Unsexy fundamental.

In the month of December, when I needed an annual exam, I could not get the address field in the Heal app to get my home address in there. (Unsexy fundamental.) I had to make an appointment and drive to the doctor. Oh, the humanity!

Facebook | A Story of Unsent $100s.

The only way now to get to your followers on Facebook is to buy ads.

[Bonus read: Stop All Social Media Activity (Organic) | Solve For A Profitable Reality]

No problem. After I would post something I want my Facebook followers to see, I would click the blue Boost button and pay Facebook $100. That seemed to solve the Reach problem.

Then one day a little while back I’m greeted with a new button: Boost Unavailable.

I have 45k followers on Facebook, without boost I get just 4k.

So I want this problem fixed. I want to give Facebook my $100. Except. Boost Unavailable.

When I click on that button, I get this, to me, confusing message.

A long time ago I had a personal page on Facebook. A couple years ago they informed me that I was not a person, I was a brand and forced me to change that page to “brand page.” I lost all my connections, and got followers instead.

Now, I don’t know what to do with this message. This account is all I have.

I click on Manage Page Roles, to see what my choices are…

I have to admit I am lost.

I am confident someone at Facebook understands what is going on, they even understand every option in the 19 choices in the left nav. Sadly, I don’t. The end result is that I can’t give Facebook my $100 and get my posts boosted.

As you might have heard, Facebook is just fine without my $100 every other week. They are clearing $10 bil a quarter. Still, an example of an unsexy fundamental that their user experience team could consider solving for.

prAna | A Story of Unfiltered Sadness.

I appreciate the opportunity to support businesses that solve for fair trade, green and sustainable business practices. If their products last forever, even better as I have to buy a lot less over time.

prAna is a good example of such a company. I also admire their brand building efforts – from the logo to the shipping envelopes.

I can’t afford their clothes at full price, but can’t resist looking at the men’s sale section when I need something.

Filters are your BFF when you are in environments with lots of choice. You can quickly go from being overwhelmed to narrow focus.

prAna’s site has loads of filtering choices: Gender, size, activity (yoga, hiking…), fit (slim, fitted), inseam, color, fabric (fair trade, HeiQ…), performance (PFC Free DWR, quick dry…), rating, silhouette (button down shirt, flannel, that’s it, really!), country of origin.

Guess what’s missing?

Imagine you have go trawl through hundreds of items on sale for clothing you need. What is the first thing you want to filter by?

Think.

Yes! Type of clothing.

Pants. T-Shirts. Jackets. Shorts.

That is the one filter prAna does not provide. Unsexy fundamental.

Even with the other 9 filters, it is hard to quickly find what I’m looking for.

#arrrhhh

I have received 7 emails in the last handful of weeks from them with this subject line: “40% Off: End of Season Sale – Your Favorite Looks are Going Fast – Don’t Miss Out.” I wonder how long it will take the User Experience experts at prAna to figure out why the conversion rate is zero percent.

If the UX experts shop on the site, they’ll find these unsexy fundamental issues everywhere.

The most common reason I return pants are that they are not long enough. Pants with 34” inseam fit me.

I was looking for new pair of travel pants. The Calculus Pants look like they could do the job.

Two weird things.

No waist size. I can take a gamble on M, but length is not a gamble I’m willing to take. I scroll around a bit. Nothing.

I click on “Size & Fit Guide,” in case it specifies something for these pants.

I get the generic guide. It is helpful in that it confirms that I need “Long Inseam.”

Except. That information is not on the Calculus pants page.

Scroll up. Scroll down. Scroll around. Switch to mobile site, because why not. Nope. Nothing.

Perhaps these pants don’t come in the three choices (Short, Regular and Long). But at least tell me what the inseam size the Calculus pants are! Unsexy fundamental.

prAna charges $8 for returns, for any reason. That is a lot. Hence… No pants for me.

[For prAna’s UX team, possible inspiration: Patagonia’s men’s sale page]

Bottom-line | Recommendations.

Unsexy fundamentals are very sexy. I recommend two actions on your part:

1. Create a dedicated (small) team to obsess continuously about the most fundamental functions. Ensure that you have a special rewards mechanism in place for them (like every other company out there you currently only reward people who work on shiny object projects).

The team’s work will start with the fundamentals closest to your core transactions. Cart and checkout for digital; cashier experience in your store. Build from there.

2. Create incentives for your employees to be secret shoppers. In fact, ask your CEO to try and do business with your company. The frustration she/he/they feel will drive amazing impact (on User happiness and company profit).

Sure, it will delay your multi-channel attribution predictive analytics powered single source of the truth initiative, but it'll be worth it.

2018: the year of doing the unsexy fundamentals well!

As always, it is your turn now.

Do you have a program/team in place to focus on unsexy fundamentals? What currently stands in the way of your company obsessing about ensuring all pathways to making money have been smoothed over? What is the primary mechanism in helping you figure out what unsexy fundamentals are broken? Do you have an example of a user experience, any mobile app or site, that is persistently frustrating?

Please add your insights, stories, frustrations, and wonderful accomplishments via comments below.

Thank you.

Bonus | Read: More examples and lessons in UX/Design, from HTC, United and Patagonia: Suck Less | A Plea For User-Centric Design: Powered By You

Bonus | Process to Implement: Heuristic Evaluations

Unsexy Fundamentals Focus: User Experiences That Print Money is a post from: Occam's Razor by Avinash Kaushik

from Occam's Razor by Avinash Kaushik http://ift.tt/2CNwlFR #Digital #Analytics #Website

[healthytalkzone-blog]

Bemass Muscle - Important Advantages Of Muscle Boost And How You Can Use It

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[endlessarchite]

Removing the Chain Link Fence! (And Trying to Be a Good Neighbor)

Tips on how to remove a chain link fence in just an afternoon — plus how to fix a neighbor’s fence without spending a dime.

Over the last week, some of the biggest changes around the back yard had more to do with things being removed than things being added. I finally removed the chain link fence!

As you can see from the before photo, I got the idea when I was filling in the new back hedge line with mulch (for tips on how to save a LOT of money on gravel and mulch, check out this post). You can get some of the story from the photo (below) alone, but the backstory (at least the part where I’m trying to be a decent neighbor) is also a part of this, so I’ll address that first.

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There are a number of things in the above photo making my eye twitch. One thing, obviously, is the chain link fence itself. There had also been an overgrowth of poison ivy from one neighbor’s yard, plants/weeds growing in between my fence and the neighbors’ that I could never seem to reach effectively, and oh yeah — one of my neighbor’s fences looked like shit.

Just so you know the whole layout/situation, my house is bordered by four neighbors — one on either side and two more along the back (basically half of another guy’s yard is on the left and half of another is on the right… thus the difference in the appearance/quality of the fence line about halfway through the fence in these photos). These are the two neighbors I don’t really know and their own back yards face mine, so there is very little need to interact other than with the two on either side. Basically, it’s your typical US subdivision kind of layout.

Other than the chain link fence and the small wooden gate/fence I’ve installed myself to fully enclose my yard, all other fences belong to my neighbors (because the “bad” sides face me, it’s easy to mistake that they’re mine, but they were installed the opposite way of most etiquette standards — it happens ALL THE TIME in Georgia, especially with backyard fences). My neighborhood is old and doesn’t have an HOA (either it was done away with or never existed). On the upside, I don’t have the added expense or hassles from restrictive HOA rules (a blessing considering the number of changes I’ve made!). Conversely, the downside is that I don’t have anything other than county codes to rely on when something goes wrong (I am outside of downtown city ordinances, so I don’t have to get approval from those, only the county). In most cases, this is a welcome thing, as most of my neighbors are considerate and it’s a very safe neighborhood, so while the neighborhood is active with lots of walkers, pets, and kids, we all pretty much keep to ourselves unless there’s a conflict.

However, those of you who have been reading a while already know: my neighbors’ fences have been a nuisance on several occasions, and I’ve had to learn some low-budget ways to compensate when they go into disrepair. In most examples from the past, it’s been the fence to the right, the main issue being that through extreme overgrowth of bamboo (a very invasive variety) and age, the fence has basically fallen apart. There isn’t a lot I can do to fix a fence I don’t own other than installing a whole new fence of my own, which would be very costly. So, I’ve had to get creative with my limited budget, such as taking some leftover fence panels I got from my sister and building raised garden beds:

Occasionally, I’ve also re-secured some of their loose fence panels if they have warped from the weather or used leftover fence pieces, but it’s more or less just to avoid having an even bigger problem of having the whole thing fall down. I’m trying to help out as best I can if I have the materials/scrap on-hand (avoid direct costs, basically). The neighbors on my right side are elderly and from the conversations I’ve had with them, they are on a limited budget, so I just don’t have it in me to ask that they put a priority on replacing their fence. Instead, I came up with my gardenia beds as a solution, and since they’re growing in so well, it is just a matter of time before they are tall enough to obscure the broken fence behind it:

Plus, they add a lot of beauty and fragrance to the entire right side of the yard, which is right next to the new fire pit and will make for a great entertaining area someday!

ANYWAY… back to the other fence. The neighbor on my back left side had a tree fall down a few months ago, which served as the catalyst for removing my chain link fence. The tree itself was huge and right on the other side, which meant all of the uprooting both A) caused a huge hole in the ground, which might eventually turn into an erosion problem and B) wrecked a whole section of the fence separating us, which busted my chain link on that side.

Frick. You can imagine my irritation with this, especially after filling in this entire section last year with fill dirt (fixing an erosion problem only to get another that I can do nothing about? Ugh). The huge tree actually fell across both of my rear-neighbors’ lots, including across the fence that divides them from each other. The neighbor with the tree chose to leave it untouched, and the home now appears vacant, making me think that it’s actually an investment property (I haven’t actually seen anyone at the property for about two months now, but I’ve seen a handful of people in and out). About a month after the tree fell, someone called the county and the tree was removed, but there was no repair done to the fence. Since it’s not my fence though, there still isn’t a whole lot I can do about it except glare at the ugliness. Or perhaps, I can fix it a little?

There was really no desire to fix my broken fence that I already hated, so as I set in to mulch for fall, I figured it might be the right time to just rip out the damn thing and see about the other fence as best I could.

How to Remove Chain Link Fence

Kill off weeds and vines.

First, I treated the poison ivy and other encroaching vines a few weeks prior with some poison ivy spray. I use this stuff and it is REALLY effective, so I now buy it in the concentrated version and mix it up myself (because it’s cheaper per fill over time) rather than buy a new spray container (you can refill over and over with the concentrated mix). My dad and sister are highly allergic, so knowing how to identify it, avoid it, and treat it are covered here.

Clip fence ties.

Then, I went along the fence and clipped the wires that held the chain link onto each top rail (often called “fence ties”). For something like this, you’ll need a small bolt cutter with a sharp blade (even though mine was new from this set, it still got dull by the end of this project, so be sure it’s decent quality!).

I also clipped the ties that hold on the chain link vertically. For any stubborn ones that didn’t move with ease, I used a set of pliers.

Remove each fence component in sections.

It was a (mostly) simple matter to slide out the top rail and wrap up the chain link in a large roll. This was also the time to remove the dead vines.

The vertical poles remained at this point, but I had some help yanking them all out (except for the ones on each end of the chain link… those are much more secured, so I might actually wrap them in pre-treated wood rather than the effort it will take to remove).

Clip and tackle tricky areas:

There were a few sections that were difficult for comically absurd reasons — such as the freaking tree growing through the links on the left side… I actually had to clip out parts of the fence before I could take an axe to it!

That’s pretty much it! Uninstalling a chain link fence is incredibly easy and looks so much better to have this removed. But as I removed the fence, it made the broken section of my neighbor’s fence even weaker (since a large part of one panel was basically loosely resting on the top rail of my fence after the fallen tree broke both). I could have taken the broken piece and simply placed it in my neighbor’s yard, but after waiting what I felt was an appropriate period for them to deal with it (again, it appears to be a rental, so even though there have been a small number of visitors to the property, I haven’t seen anyone move in for a while), I decided that the best aesthetic move (and better security for my dog not to wind up in their yard with a big hole in the fence) would be to re-secure the fence panel using some string and screws I already had on hand. The neighbor will still have to eventually fix their fence for their long-term use, but at least it will no longer be falling into my yard or crushing my new hedge plants. Plus, this seemed more like the “neighborly” thing to do — I had the exterior screws and string, and it took about 30 minutes. In time, the post will set on its own accord too and allow me to eventually remove the reinforcement.

I did the same thing with the other end of the broken piece, only tying it to another tree (this also grows in their lot… they basically just have a lot of trees right next to their fence — if you’re installing a fence of your own, do not do this!). But doing both of these things straightened out the rest of the fence enough to screw each piece back to each other.

With the panel back up (straightish — the remaining tree in the corner of their lot still pushes part of one panel out), I continued on with the rest of my mulching and the back part of the yard now looks like this!

Considering where it started — needing mulch, overgrown weeds, a broken fence, and poison ivy — I think it’s a huge upgrade!

Upgrade and onward!

P.S. Just in case anyone’s worried about me touching someone else’s fence, this is one of those relationships-with-neighbors-are-highly-subjective types of things. Culturally, my neighborhood just seems to be cool with helping each other out, even if we’re not the neighborhood barbecue type. I doubt they’ll even notice really, but this at least prevents my yard from looking worse until they fix it (and that would be just a lot of needless anger to stew over something like this when I already have the means to temporarily provide a solution).

P.P.S. This is completely off topic, but what the hell: I made some logo tees for the blog.

I did it mainly because I need a few to wear when I make my DIY videos and photos when I work with brands (I noticed a lot of folks use their own brands in videos, so it seems like a good idea because I’ll forget to plug my own website if I’m flustered enough).

The company I found to make them requires only 5 shirts of each style before printing (regardless of color/size/t-shirt type), so since I already planned on ordering almost that many for myself, I figured I’d also offer these to you guys (I wouldn’t have thought so, but I only just listed these yesterday and people other than me have already bought a couple, so shows what I know, right?). There are currently 2 options: one has my logo with my tagline on the back (“I’m not going gray… that’s just paint in my hair”) and the other just has a simplified style on the front (same logo font, just no duck and nothing on the back). Each is available in a small variety of colors, comes in tank or tee (the slouchy tanks are my favorite), and are made with a lightweight, soft cotton blend fabric (I don’t yet have these shipped to me obviously, but I have other tees made by Next Level, and I’m literally wearing one from them as I’m typing, ha!) .

The UDH Logo Tees

Simple UDH Logo Tee

These tees are available for THIS MONTH ONLY, so if you’re one of the nine people who have asked me in the past to make these t-shirts (nine is a high estimate and includes my mom), then here you go. Note that I need at least 5 of each t-shirt type in order for them to ship, but if those sales are met then both types will ship in October (I am honestly so excited to wear these in future tutorials!). I’m brainstorming a few others that I’ve always wanted too (yes, “Squirrels are assholes” and “What the frass?!” are in consideration, but I will roll out things like that later).

Thanks, friends!

The post Removing the Chain Link Fence! (And Trying to Be a Good Neighbor) appeared first on The Ugly Duckling House.

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