#i got so much work to grind out this summer whew

[vermillioncrown]

@punderfulfandoms (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) this is what i strive for, getting deep reading of my fanfic lmao, thank u and bless

these are all very good points!

i have not been forthcoming with everyone's age (except you now have a reference point with korvin and dick, re: ch3). jason's closer to korvin in age than he is to dick, but that's still a bit of range to play with (the math has been left as an exercise for the enterprising reader lol)

whfagt and my recent teaser snippet has little hints of the jason & korvin dynamic. i personally think it's wack wild and hilarious but who knows how it'll be received

=

bc you're signing up for my academic rants (in the tags, but they can happen anywhere if relevant)...

another gripe i have w common cliches is the stem/math vs english major false dichotomy

yes, that's pretty true at the lower levels of those fields. but at the higher level, it's all critical thinking. the tools may be different, the common language and operations might be different, and the context too.

my advisor jokes (w a whole rice bag of truth rather than just a grain) that a phd in anything is still a philosophy major flavored with whatever we're obsessed with. PhD -> doctor of philosophy, yeah? logic, rhetoric, argumentation, ontology--these are concepts that can be applied to any field. in fact, that's the point of phd dissertations in stem, esp in such an applied field like aerospace engineering. we are to take a concrete problem, abstract and formulate a fundamental subproblem from the application, and demonstrate rigor in handling the subproblem such that a generality can be formed and contribute to a larger understanding of the field.

is that not the same with literature analysis? i just deal with shitty greek letters most of the time rather than prose, is all.

@rozaceous and i would be that english vs math major thing, yet we have the exact same brainrot and nitpicks, house on fire status of getting along.

(it's because she's also a philo minor, technically could have been a philo double major)

[msiconoclast]

Again - Chapter 1

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: romance, angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:  Lim Jaebeom was the single most significant part of your college experience.  A chance encounter brings you together again many years later when you’ve both settled into your careers (Jaebeom is a music producer and Y/N is a journalist).  As you take a walk down memory lane, you reflect on your understanding of love and its many trials.  Some loves are meant to make you grow, and some are meant to help you heal.   And some are destined to be both.

A/N: Whew, this took longer than I expected.  Enjoy!  Read the prologue first if you haven’t yet: Again - Prologue

-----------------------------------------------------

Lim Jaebeom first showed up in your life the summer after sophomore year.  You were nineteen at the time and life was still full of glorious possibilities. 

Before you learned his name, he had been "hoodie guy from film class". 

Hoodie guy almost always showed up to class late, often with dark circles under his eyes that looked like they'd been there for days.  His usual attire of oversized hoodie, shorts, and sandals suggested that he'd probably just rolled out of bed and come straight to class.  He would inevitably fall asleep in the back row and start snoring at some point during lecture.  You had to physically move to the front just to block out the noise and catch what the prof was saying.

Yet somehow, he managed to be the professor's favorite student.  

The thing is, when he wasn't nodding off, hoodie guy was apparently Ebert incarnate.  He was usually quiet but whenever the class discussion came to a halt, he would always make a comment that somehow managed to cut straight to the heart of the film.  The class would give collective pause over his flash of brilliance and then resume in excited debate in a new enlightened direction.  On the few occasions when the professor decided to read out excerpts from written assignments, you knew.....you just knew that they were always from hoodie guy's papers by the smirk on his face.

In other words....the guy was annoying as hell.

Look, you loved movies and film class was sacred.  It was one of the few classes you actually enjoyed outside of your major.  How dare this guy just waltz into class in his pajamas and proceed to wax philosophical on “French New Wave” while the rest of you barely understood what the films were trying to convey?  Was he some kind of silver screen idiot savant?  More importantly, why was he trying to ruin the curve for everyone?!

Needless to say, by the time the semester ended, you were more than done with hoodie guy’s antics.  If you were to never see him again, that would be absolutely perfect.

Life, unfortunately, had other plans for you.

As spring eased into summer, you decided to take a job at Joe's on Third to supplement your non-paid internship at the local paper.  Joe's was your home away from home as a student.  Cozy and airy, it had the perfect ambiance and was never too packed.  As a bonus, they served a mean grilled cheese among a small menu of comfort food classics and you would get fed every day you worked there.  It was going to be tough balancing the two jobs but all things considered, it wasn’t a bad deal at all.

When you showed up at seven for your first day at Joe's, the place was still empty.  The only sound came from behind the counter where someone was grinding coffee beans.  A tall figure with an enviable head of hair was rustling around getting the goods ready before the morning rush.  As you got closer, you noticed that he had more than a few piercings, one in particular under his right eye.  You never really found facial piercings to be attractive on men but there was something oddly intriguing about the look on him.  It gave him an air of nonchalance.  A rebel without a cause.

He was so concentrated on his tasks that he didn't notice you until you tapped on the counter in front of him.

"Shit....oh...."  It took him a moment to collect his thoughts until a look of recognition registered in his face.  "You’re Y/N?  I'm Jaebeom.  Call me JB.  Joe said I'm supposed to set you up on your first day."  

Hoodie Guy?

The second he opened his mouth, it dawned on you that this was no stranger.  Though you never cared to study his face, you had memorized hoodie guy's voice by heart.  And while this clean shaven, well dressed man in front of you looked nothing like the guy who always buried his face in his hoodies, the voice was unmistakable.    

"Intro to World Cinema.  Were you the one who got the only A in class??"

Confused, he raised his eyebrows and tried again.  "Uh, I'm supposed to get you trained on your first day and make sure you can..."

"I'm asking if you were in Intro to World Cinema last semester?  Didn't you always wear a hoodie to class and nap in the back row?  Were you the jerk who ruined the curve for everyone and got the only A on the final paper?

He stared at you as if you were nuts.  But you didn't really expect him to protest innocence.

"I was in that class too and would've gotten an A if it weren't for you!  Instead I got a B+.  First B+ in two years of school!!"  The words flew out of your mouth before you could catch yourself.  Oh, you knew it was petty but your indignation had been brewing for weeks.

He squinted his eyes and continued to stare at you.

Ding! 

Somewhere in the back, a toaster went off.  This seemed to snap him out of his trance and you watched as confusion dissolved into amusement on his face. 

He cleared his throat: "Well...Miss B+....we got twenty minutes until open.  If you want to keep this job, I suggest you get going and put all the baked goods out." 

Not waiting for you to respond, he turned towards the kitchen. 

Just before disappearing into the back, he suddenly swung around and grinned`: "Yeah, I got the A.  And you were the girl with the pencil hair bun who always sat in the front."

So he did recognize you.

Asshole.

The first week of your new job breezed by without much of a hitch.  You'd worked restaurant jobs before and a cafe was a piece of cake by comparison.  What surprised you was how efficient JB was at the job.  You just couldn't stitch together the image of him snoring in class with how professional he appeared at the cafe.  Not only was he efficient, he also seemed to be preternaturally friendly towards everyone who walked in.  Loud teenagers, moms with screaming babies, post-breakup girls drowning in their brownie-a-la-mode, he handled each and every one of them with calm and kindness.  Yet, you wouldn't exactly call him a "people person" since he never voluntarily took up small talk with anyone nor did he socialize much with the other staff.  It seemed that JB simply existed comfortably in the backdrop of the cafe’s inviting atmosphere and treated everyone with the same distant warmth.  

After the awkward initial encounter with JB, you maintained a precarious distance towards each other.  You were still reeling from the embarrassment of your outburst, and he must have decided to steer clear of stirring up the "crazy" in you again.  In fact, he treated you just like any other member of the staff, as if the incident never happened.  If anything, you two developed a satisfying partnership of sorts.  When the cafe was busy, you teamed up to keep the orders moving and the kitchen hot.  When there was a lull, you gave each other plenty of space.  You would work on your articles for the paper while he pranced around behind the counter scribbling down notes on little pieces of paper.

Mid-afternoons were usually the slowest at the cafe.  You savored these moments when time seemed to pass by as slowly as dust particles that swayed in the summer sun.  It gave you a strange sense of privacy even if you were sitting in a cafe full of people.   Sometimes, when you were feeling really wild, you'd stealthily switch the cafe jazz that droned on in the background to your favorite soundtracks.  None of the cafe patrons seemed to mind as long as it was something mellow.  The one person who did take note though was JB.  

"Is that 'Before Sunrise'?"   Um hum.

"That sounds like 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'?"  Yup.

"Oh, 'Midnight in Paris'.  The gypsy jazz is cool."   Totally...

Either this guy had seen every movie under the sun or you two just happened to have very similar tastes.  What was most curious was the fact that these were all movies that any other guy would scoff as “chick flicks”.   Not the type of entertainment that you’d expect a “rebel without a cause“ to seek out.

"So did you actually watch all of these movies?"  You had to ask him one afternoon.

"Hmm......yeah."  He waved one of the little pieces of paper he was scribbling on: "They help me with my songwriting.  I......heh, need inspiration and I like movies that provide different perspectives on the concept of love. "

So that's what he had been working on.  Song lyrics.  You weren’t entirely surprised since half of the population in LA were trying to make it in Entertainment in one way or another.

"Why do people write so many love songs anyways?  Loneliness is totally underrated."

"Because almost any emotion that music can express can be related to love.  It's universal." he said

"Yeah?  And what have you learned about love in all your movie-watching and song-writing experience?”

"The heart's not like a box that gets filled up. It expands in size the more you love."

“Her”.  Nice..... another sentimental fool.

The best thing about working at Joe's was the weekly closing party.  Every Friday night, the staff would string up lights around the back patio and put on a little dance party while closing the cafe down.  It was an unspoken rule that whatever bottles of wine were open by the end of the week was a free for all for the party and the beer taps were open until dry.  Quite a nice little perk for the employees. 

You had always enjoyed yourself at these parties.  Most of the part time staff were kids who went to the same school, people you had seen around campus.  It was where the staff really got to know each other and sometimes, got their hands on each other.  And it didn't take long for everyone to get comfortable and really let loose.  It was also funny to see how people changed when they were drunk.  The shy introverted ones would surprisingly become super hyper while the normally outgoing ones often ended up bawling their eyes out in the corner by the end of the night.  Nothing short of human theater.

The first couple of times you'd joined, you were still careful not to drink too much.  You wanted to make a good impression and actually get to know everyone.  But by the fourth closing party, you were well on your way to earning the title of dancing queen.  See, alcohol also had an intriguing effect on you.  It helped you break out of your usually calm shell but it also had a tendency to make you more than a little flirty.  And on this particular night, you were definitely feeling the love. 

The theme for the night was 90s jams and you had been showing off your moves on top of one of the patio tables for the last 45 minutes.  But it was nearing midnight now and most people were either too drunk or too tired to be dancing and you were starting to feel the early signs of a crash yourself.  It was then the bass thumping hip hop switched over to a slow and smooth R&B song that you had never heard before.  There was something seductive about the way the singer cooed out the words.

"Girl it's only you

Have it your way

And if you want you can decide

And if you'll have me

I can provide everything that you desire

Said if you get a feeling

Feeling that I am feeling

Won't you come closer to me baby,

You've already got me right where you want me baby

I just want to be your man

How does it feel

How does it feel

Said I want to know how does it feel

How does it feel

How does it feel"

As you spun around on the table, you noticed a pair of gaze that fixed steadily on you as you swayed your hips slowly to the beat.  You couldn't make out the expression on his face but there was an intensity in his gaze that made your body heat up.  The thought that you had a captured audience turned you on and prompted you to run your hands across your body.  As you felt your body heat up more and more, you reached for the glass nearby and took out an ice cube.  You desperately needed to cool down.  Holding the ice cube in your mouth for a second, you then started to run it against your skin.  Trails of ice water trickled down your neck, your collarbone and pooled where your cleavage had shown through your shirt.  The song was pushing towards a crescendo and the singer's falsetto was ringing in your head.  It grew louder and louder until the lights started to spin. 

Dizziness took over.  Suddenly, you felt yourself lose your balance and stumble towards the ground.

Black.

And the next time you opened your eyes, a familiar face was just inches above you.  The owner of the gaze had his arms propped up beneath you while they supported your weight.

You could feel his breath on your face and for what seemed like an eternity, you simply stared at each other.

Finally, you ended the silence by flashing him the brightest smile you could muster and pointing at his nose: "I forgive you!!!...Hoodie guy!"

The corners of his mouth curved up. 

"You're pretty cute, B+."  He chuckled.

Previous      Next

[essaysbyciara]

Old Habits Die Hard| Part Six: Just & Righteous

SYNOPSIS | PART ONE: DAYS BEFORE | PART TWO: JUST BE GOOD TO ME | PART THREE: RECOGNIZE THE BUTTERFLIES | PART FOUR: DOWN THE STAIRS AND TO YOUR LEFT| PART FIVE: JUST KNOW

Warnings: Languages, brief mention of police brutality, lightweight mentions of sexual situations

Almost at the end of this thing, whew. As always, you can read on Wattpad as well. Thank youuuuuuuu for the likes, reblogs, comments and commentary. Y’all bring so much joy. Peace & love. 

JUST & RIGHTEOUS

It seemed as if history repeated itself. Minutes, hours, day, weeks, even months passed without hearing a word from Dave. He sent no DMs and leveled no texts your way. He left the text message containing your phone number on read and left you feeling waves similar to what you felt last summer. 

But it was the sweetest dismissal you ever could receive. Truth be told, you didn’t need to hear from Dave at all. The fact that you sent him your number as you sat in the passenger seat of Yahya’s car was the lowest of low. Yahya was nothing but great to you. He didn’t deserve your betrayal. You were happy that the Universe conceded on his behalf -- and blocked yours. 

As the months eclipsed between that unfortunate reunion with Dave and the date of your wedding, you tried your best to hide the glow of the what-if’s involving Dave. How would you even pull this off if Dave did reach out to you? You felt bad for imagining the many ways to do just that. 

Your reality inched closer and closer to you as the day of your wedding dress fitting approached. As you sit in your mother’s living room the day before the fitting, you look over at a framed photograph of your parent from their wedding day. Your mother, Jackie, saved her billowy couture gown with the miles-long train just for you. Thankfully you were a bit too thick in the hips to fit into that 1980s extravaganza of a dress. 

It took your father’s  passing for you and your mother to become close. You were a Daddy’s girl through and through and as much as Jackie didn’t want to feel bothered by your daughterly allegiance, she felt hurt by it. You would beg to stay at your Aunt Jerri’s cramped rowhouse every summer even when your Mom’s side of the family had the house not too far away with the extra bedrooms and the basketball court. You’d rebuff your Mom’s invitations to sorority events and balls to watch college football with your Dad. You even pledged her rival sorority. 

It was as if you were doing everything in your power to spite her. 

The truth wasn’t that. To you, Jackie was regal. She was the epitome of a queen. You always admired the way your Dad would stop everything to take a look at her, his attention so rapt that you had to nudge him back to reality. No hair was out of place, even her eyelashes curled with perfection. She was the epitome of “it” and you wanted to be her. Jealousy enraptured both of you. 

But once your Dad died, that jealousy had no more blood left on to feed. It did have your father’s side of the family, who chose the funeral’s repast to air out their decades-long grievances with each other concerning your Dad. 

A bottle flew in the air and almost hit your mom’s sister. In the midst of that chaos, your Mom grabbed your hand and asked if you were okay. Accusations were flying  around that made your Dad either look like an angel or the devil incarnate. The same people that loved hard on you -- including your Aunt Jerri -- dogged your father out in front of everyone.  Jackie gave a damn about you when the people around you both were worried about the “ principle” of it all.  You and your Mom had no more reasons to fight. You became a united front, so strong that you both proceeded to curse out everyone into submission. Aunt Jerri even apologized to you since she “didn’t know both y’all bougie asses could go off like that.” 

You made peace with your Aunt Jerri. Jackie was a different story. 

“Is Jerri coming?” Jackie asks as she pours blistering hot water into her coffee mug.

“Yes, she is. She’s staying at my house … don’t you start.” 

“Start what? I have no problems with that woman. As long as she knows her…” 

“Both of you need to stay in your place. No disrespect, ma.” 

Your Dad was a graduate of the North Philly streets. Your Mom was a first-year grad student at the University of Pennsylvania. Somehow your Dad made his way into a fraternity party on Penn’s campus and got a glimpse of Jackie, or ‘J8’, strolling in a circle with all of her sorority sisters to “Curious” by Midnight Star. He found a reason to linger around the house  party at the defiance of his friends, waiting for the right time -- and right slow jam -- to get Jackie away from her girls. No such luck because somehow your Mom got out of the house and on her way home before your Dad could get a chance to dance with her. 

But your Dad had collegiate connections -- your would-be Uncle Terrence, who willed himself away from those same streets and into Temple on a football scholarship -- who knew when the next party would be taking place. Your Dad waited and, sure enough, he laid eyes on Jackie again and this time, he’d get the slow jam he wanted. 

It didn’t matter to your Mom that your Dad wasn’t on his way to a doctorate. It didn’t matter to your Dad that your Mom came from a well-off family from Chestnut Hill. Jackie would hang out in those same North Philly streets as her man with ease and your Dad would stroll around Penn’s campus like he belonged there. To everyone around them, they had no business with each other but they didn’t care. So much so that they eloped right after Jackie graduated, pissing off both sides of the family especially your Aunt Jerri. 

Truth be told, Jerri and Jackie should be two peas in a pod. You’ve seen your Mom at sorority events and, without question, she could out-party your Aunt Jerri. In theory and practice, Jackie and Jerri should be on some seven-day cruise getting drunk together but alas, they both sit around with unresolved beef involving your Dad, the person who isn’t around to tell them to cut it out like he did in the past. His passing wasn’t enough to get them to bury it. 

“I’m still your mother, watch it…” 

“You sound like Jerri right now, you know that…” you joked,  bracing for the coffee mug to travel from your mother’s hand towards your face. “Look, I’m only asking for you two to keep it church cute for two hours, if that. You can do that. At least for your husband, God rest his soul. And for me.” 

“I will … and I’m praying for your future husband because I know Jerri is driving him insane.” 

Aunt Jerri is indeed doing just that but Yahya doesn’t mind. Yet. 

Aunt Jerri constantly reminds herself that Yahya is her future nephew-in-law. Yahya is so much like recently deceased husband -- Uncle Terrence --  that she can’t help but erroneously fall in love with your man. Aunt Jerri tries to curtail her lust enough as Yahya walks into the house fresh from the gym. 

Yahya tosses his gym bag onto the vestibule floor with aims to run upstairs and grab a quick shower but Jerri prohibits that plan. 

“What do you think? Do you know of anyone in Philly that could help?”

“I mean, I do but this is nuts…” 

Yahya read the entire court case that Aunt Jerri handed him as he ran on the treadmill. What looked first like a false arrest turned into a case of police misconduct and judicial overzealousness. He’s seen judges level exorbitant bails on suspects before but this amount of bail was way beyond the standard. The way the police treated the suspect made Yahya so angry that he twice hit the treadmill’s emergency button to stop himself from running off of the exercise machine and into a wall. 

He promised you that he wouldn’t take on any new cases this close to the wedding but his heart couldn’t let this one slide.  His good heart couldn’t pass this over to someone else who he wasn’t quite sure could handle a case of this magnitude.  But he wanted to practice fairness and ask you how you would feel about him picking up a case just months before the wedding. Yahya was running up the steps to take a shower and mull over what to do. 

You aren’t right on time as you walk into the house just as he stands in the kitchen with sweat dripping off of his body from his run and the idea of you going off because he wants to play hero at the wrong time. He walks up to you and kisses your cheek. You implore him to get upstairs and wash away his workout before you three go out for dinner.

“You okay, Aunt Jerri?” You sit on one of the stools next to the kitchen island not rushing to tell Aunt Jerri about the conversation you just had with your Mom. 

“Yeah, I am. Yahya and I were talking about some fucked up shit happening back home.”

“What’s messed up?” 

“That wack shit that happened to Dave…” 

Dave walked down Ogontz Avenue to blow off the steam of seeing your face for the first time in a year -- and the man that earned your love after he abandoned yours. He remembered the final night of your two-week stay last summer.  You drove with him out of the county to what felt like the middle of nowhere. You sexed each other so deep and hard in the backseat of your car that your body heat had to escape through the tailpipe. 

You were coming down from your high when you asked Dave to come back to DC with you. He could stay with you and then later visit you on his off weekends. Dave, so deep inside and into you, did not hesitate to agree. He wanted to wait until he was off from work to visit you first, not risking the job that Trace got him on the fly. Dave was on the way to becoming a supervisor at the warehouse and he didn’t want to mess up the grind. 

You agreed and waited but Dave never came. 

He sent that text after seeing you drive off with Yahya. He wanted you to know that he messed up, that fear of the unknown stopped him from making the move that his heart wanted to make. Hood dudes don’t drop everything for women, at least that’s what he saw around him. Dave still reveled in being revered in the streets. A new city with a woman he barely knew outside of the sex they created and the one date they shared wasn’t worth throwing away the relationships he built up north. But instead of telling you that he wasn’t ready for that, he ghosted. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He did more than that. 

He grieved his decision as he walked down the street to grab some Backwoods before walking back home. There he was met with four police officers ransacking the corner store looking for a suspect related to a shooting that took place just blocks away. Dave was too deep into his thoughts to stop himself from walking into the store and what would happen next. Dave fit the description of the suspect: tall, tattooed with ahki beard. He didn’t have time to plead his case as the police slammed him up against one of the coolers and onto the floor, breaking his jaw. 

Because Dave had a record  and the victim was a five-year-old, the judge set his bail beyond even what his Mom could put her house up for in collateral. His lawyer, a public defender, told Dave to plea. A witness said she saw a man matching Dave’s description   walking down Ogontz after the shooting. Dave was nowhere near the shooting, rather he was sitting on Aunt Jerri’s porch, ruminating about losing you but the lawyer didn’t want to hear it. So Dave sits in jail until his trial date and the neighborhood stewed in disbelief. 

Aunt Jerri told Dave’s mom that she knew a civil rights attorney in DC that could help. She hoped that Yahya would take the case up himself, not thinking about the awkwardness of her niece’s fiance representing her niece’s ex-flame in court. 

It hits you once you hear the story: that’s why you didn’t hear from Dave after you sent that text. He was sitting in PICC away from his friends and family. But you quickly wondered why you are now hearing about this from Aunt Jerri -- and how Yahya became a part of this conversation. Aunt Jerri quickly answers you. 

“I was hoping Yahya knew someone up there that could help Dave.” 

“Oh, because I know he’s not taking the case.” 

“I was hoping that he would…”

“No the fuck he isn’t, Aunt Jer-.” You stop yourself from letting out more words that you both could handle. Despite the precedent set by you at your Dad’s funeral, you respect Aunt Jerri enough to reel it back in. “He can’t. We made a promise to each other that he wouldn’t take any cases from now until the wedding.”

Aunt Jerri stands bewildered as she hears you dismiss Dave’s need. She knew you were upset about what happened but she didn’t think you would react this way. 

“I know Dave dumped into you and ditched you but this ain’t the way to get your revenge.” 

“Excuse me?!” 

Your rage boils as you listen to Aunt Jerri use your resentment toward Dave as a reason to keep him in jail. There’s a million lawyers in Philly, Dave didn’t need Yahya. You also didn’t want Dave and Yahya to ever meet, for Yahya to even know Dave’s existence. You were able to dodge a meetup when you were in Philly months prior. No need to plan one now. “First of all, you were the one that told me to get with him. And secondly, what you think it would look like if your new man is reppin’ your old in court. That’s foolish.”

“You were foolish in how you handled that Dave situation. I told you that boy didn’t want you…”

“Yeah, just like Uncle T ain’t want your ass either.” You could swipe low blows with the best of them.

“I know my brother loved you but don’t think I won’t…”

“Do what? I’m not my Mom. You can’t punk me.”

Yahya turns the corner of the steps to see you and Aunt Jerri almost eye to eye in the kitchen. He knows your faces of anger, catching  it a time or two from you. He knows something is wrong and he fears that Aunt Jerri told him about the case. He knows what you don’t want him to do.

“Y’all good? Y’all ready to head out to dinner?” Yahya tries to break up the detente happening in the kitchen. 

“I think so.” You cut a look at Aunt Jerri that could cut through steel. She grabs her purse and heads to the front door. Yahya passes her to meet you in the kitchen. He grabs onto your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. You rebuff him at first but like always, your body sinks into his without much hesitation. 

“You okay, babe?” Yahya braces himself to kiss you again if you ask about what Aunt Jerri brought up to him. 

“What’s this about a case?”

“Someone from the neighborhood got himself in a lousy situation with the police up there and she wanted to know if I knew of anyone up there that could help.” 

“I’m sure you do because you promised me that you wouldn’t do anything else…” 

Yahya doesn’t want to tell her that as he showered, he made his decision: he is going to represent Dave. 

Taglist: @yoursoulstea​​​​​​ @harleycativy​​​​​ @twistedcharismaaa​​​​​ @dorkskinneded​​���​​​ @need-my-fics​​​​​ @ghostfacekill-monger​​​​​ @writerbee-ffs​​​​​ @chaneajoyyy​​​​​ @amyhennessyhouse​

[quicktelling-blog]

Amira’s Vanished Hustle, Perceptions of Missed Opportunities, and What Everyone Should Consider About the Story So Far

[deep dive under the cut]

Some messages I got over the weekend were along the lines of: “No Damira again on Friday whew you must be heartbroken huh?” But, y’all, I wasn’t surprised. And to be completely honest, my reaction on Friday was very different from the ones I saw in the tag. Yeah, I was super happy for the adorable Amira and I was also side-eying the glaring absence of Carlos’s besties at his own housewarming -- but my main thought after the clip was: “LOL OH SHIT HERE WE GO.” Because in my mind Friday was an ENORMOUS RED FLAG that the only substantial thing left to do in Amira’s story arc is the cute Bon Voyage party to send her off on her dream trip. Even before this big POV shift happened, Druck hadn’t given us any reason to expect much more than that in her remaining plot, and I’ll elaborate on that here.

I don’t wanna jump to the conclusion that Druck can’t possibly stick the landing, because hey, they might! We have no clear idea what will happen between now and the final goodbye party, so maybe good things are coming that will subvert all of our worst imaginings! But I feel like this is a hinge point in the season to do a little reassessing of expectations... and to come clean about one big reason why I’ve mostly spoken superficially about this season up until now.

The very first red flag, for me, was when I realized Druck was planning to basically pretend Amira never had a job. That oversight might not seem like a big deal to most, and it’s not like her job was the first thing Druck ever made disappear unceremoniously (remember when Leonie and Sara had other close girl friends? lol) but to me it was a signal that my expectations for Amira’s story (based on her previous strong characterization) had maybe been too high. And I immediately felt a bit cheated.

Amira was already so fleshed out coming into her season. She was demanding, quick-witted, and nurturing. She was fiercely protective of her friends, and even more fiercely ambitious, with a willingness to work harder than anyone to get ahead in life. She was sunny but tough-shelled, with a well-established resistance to trusting any men. And, loving her as much as I do, I felt strongly that she deserved to have plenty of brand new story elements that reflected all those things. To have her own story shaped around her, rather than she herself being reshaped to fit Sana’s story.

But then it was finally her turn to shine, in a Summer season, when it would make perfect sense for her to be on a job grind to earn cash for her trip, and... she’s not working? Huh? She managed to work all through a tough school year, but not her free summer vacation? Why? Because of Druck’s low budget? Because they lacked cohesion in the writing process? Some combination of the two? Yikes. Who knows. But suddenly, nonsensically, they had flushed away the perfect framing to showcase her work ethic, her daily perseverance, and her varied interactions (good and bad) with lots of strange customers around Berlin.

It felt like a bad omen to me somehow. Which wasn’t a great mindset to start the season with. And that was the beginning of me trying very, very hard not to be confused and salty about every little thing I began to perceive as missed opportunities to give Amira a new kind of substance in her story.

For example: While David, Matteo, and Sam began having fun off-screen, working on an bold alien movie, Amira inexplicably had no involvement. She kinda scoffed at the idea when it came up on-screen, then immediately lost interest in the conversation because her man was texting. Fair enough, right? That scene was moving her story forward while generously giving a little shoutout to the meta insta storyline, right? The problem is: the off-screen story ended up seeming much more interesting than watching Amira chilling on her own texting a bunch, and we weren’t even given a reason for her to not be part of it after the whole crew was invited to join in. Imagine if we had followed her onto a shitty little makeshift movie set and seen her reacting to the chaos and strangeness of it. Imagine her finding a resourceful solution to a production hiccup or mediating a creative disagreement while trying to hide her own inner turmoil from her friends. And imagine her having an extremely important conversation with David (and/or Matteo and/or Sam) about the film’s deeper themes of alienation and otherness that they can both sadly relate to.

That’s just one weirdly specific scenario, but there are sooo many other ways I fantasized about Amira bonding with her friends (particularly the ones who aren’t cishet white kids or brand new characters). Talking with one or more of them about what it means to be dangerously marginalized, or to be afraid of letting someone get close to you, or to feel torn in two different directions in life. Maybe something like that could still happen before the season ends, but I’m not counting on it. And I think the time has passed for it to have the biggest impact. It could’ve been amazing (and really narratively useful!) if it happened before the resolution of Amira’s brief conflicts with Kiki, Erva, and Mohammed. We saw a lot of scenes with her looking angry and sad, but we weren’t really privy to much of her thought process during all that reflection, so it felt uncomfortably unearned when problems she once saw as insurmountable were shortly waved aside. I would’ve really appreciated even a short conversation with some good change-of-heart exposition.

And while other people were cheering about all the controversial Sana season conflicts being blessedly truncated or completely stripped away, the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking: “Okay, awesome, but what are they gonna replace that storyline with? Nothing?” And, for the most part, that seemed to be true.

But the problem clearly wasn’t limited to a shortage of well-integrated story threads with Amira at their center. It was arguably also a failure to capitalize on the stories they did use. Instead of getting to watch the emotional fight with her mother about punching someone, and witnessing Amira faced with the threat of losing Australia, we only heard about the drama afterward. Just like we only heard about her family’s religious holiday together. Just like we only got a few texts between Amira and Jonas about the refugee event. And just like how, as I sat typing this, Amira’s mother re-blessed the trip off-screen. On and on goes the list of examples of this unfortunate tell-don’t-show approach, and I’m sure a lot of it can be attributed to low budget and tricky cast scheduling, but the time limit excuse probably doesn’t apply if Amira’s main plot really has been efficiently pared down to 7 episodes.

Don’t get me wrong, I want to reserve final judgment on the season until the credits roll, and there are plenty of good things to say about it in the meantime. Yes, it’s been lovely to see so many gorgeous shots of Tua praying, and boxing, and expressing everything from attraction to anguish to helpless rage. Yes, she and Hassan both did some really strong work selling the magnetic pull between their characters, even in the face of (what I consider to be) an underdeveloped narrative that didn’t totally sell me on the relationship overall. Yes, it was wonderful to have some aesthetically pleasing scenes of the girl squad loving and supporting each other, even if they mostly talked about boys the way Amira hoped they wouldn’t. And obviously just having a story about a strong, kind, devoted hijabi girl is vitally important visibility. So I really haven’t wanted to say anything negative in the face of all that...

... but now I have to say: if you’re feeling cheated and mad about the POV shift, then take some time to consider what else specifically you think should’ve happened to Amira before we entered this resolution phase of her story. It seemed like most people were perfectly happy for her to not face any complex conflict, and not have any lingering hardship to dramatically and triumphantly overcome. Every obstacle getting a relatively swift and easy solution felt underbaked to me, but it was a big relief and source of praise for most people in the tags right up until Amira disappeared from clips. So: in hindsight, how would you have added not just length, but also more compelling drama and greater social impact to her story, so that the extra length felt well-used? It’s really worth thinking and talking about that, even if you’re hesitant to voice any criticism of Amira’s part of the story (even after the season ends, and even if it’s totally constructive) -- because thinking and talking about it is how we’ll get that kind of richer, fuller story in the future.

[tyonfs]

🤧 : my summer kinda sucked mostly cause I was stressed out about money and stuff unfortunately…

buttt also I finally got a job as a cashier and I start training tomorrow !! I am pretty nervous but luckily it is only training so they won’t throw me out to survive on my own just yet but also my loved ones believe in me, even if I am not sure myself, so that’s always nice ❤️

and thank you for the birthday wishes 🥹🥳💗 22 feels weird like I need to be at a certain place in my life even though where I am at now is just fine… I have enjoyed a nice dinner with family and a few friends in town and the ones who weren’t sent me birthday wishes so that was very nice 🥰

but I also NEED to get back to my fics I am so behind whew !! I have no idea how you pump yours out with an internship on top of it like wow that’s impressive 💯 respecttt

also it is nice to talk to you again 🥺 hopefully I’ll send asks in more consistently soon !!

also if you feel comfortable how is your internship? what is it on?

omg i’m sorry love :(( i hope things have gotten better now !! 💓 how’s your new job going?? :o also training is always super helpful and you get a buddy to ask stuff whenever you need advice or help most of the time, so i hope that’s offered!

omg i feel like people put on the adulting pressure around that age, but tbh no one knows what they’re doing HAHAHHA we’re all in this together 🥰🥰 but i’m glad you enjoyed your birthday!! i am sending a virtual cake through the screen 🤧

take your time love !! writing can be hard when you’re juggling so many responsibilities but i’m sure it’ll flow when you’re feeling inspired :’) HAHAH tbh i feel like i haven’t been writing that much but this week i grinded out a good chunk of writing to help me finish a fic 💘💘

and yes it’s nice to talk to you too !!! actually your ask only showed up in my inbox after i answered half my asks HAHAH idk why tumblr is tweaking but i hope we can talk more too 💗💗 always here whenever you need anything!

and my internship’s going pretty good :’)) i’m working under the marketing branch and i’m learning a lot and getting to do my own projects and stuff :o it’s rlly cool but i’m a little nervous for my presentation at the end of the month 😵‍💫 is anything fun coming up for you? :o

[due4amiracle]

Day 319

Listo:

Wash 2 plates/bowls/pieces of silverware, 2 chapters, Dailies, Vamp shiz, 2 anime eps.

Wash 2 plates/bowls/pieces of silverware - Nope🚫

2 chapters - Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo 100%, Blood Like Magic by Liselle Sambury 100%, The Empire's Ruin by Brian Staveley 6%, At the End of Everything by Marieke Nijkamp 30%. SS: 3🌟 - Spooky! Very interesting story, liked it and i’m glad i was able to read it. BLM: 2.5🌟 WAY too much faff. i adored the story and most of the characters, but damn did i hate the main character. Jumping to conclusions does NOBODY any good, and sure you’re fancy now, but damn if you didn’t get multiple people killed that didn’t have to die. Jeeze. Started Empire’s Ruin and wouldn’t you know it - my hold for End of Everything came in. Ain’t that the way it always happens? Ah well, i can chow through EoE quicklike, and read through ER a bit slower. It’s a chonky read, so, it’ll be a bit of work. UwU♡ ✔

Dailies - Waifu Did mah dailies! Also, level 25 BP now~! AND! Tree lvl 24! New MONTH! new weeklies! ♡ω♡. FFXIV did mah dailies~ MSQ +0 -> 74, BTN +0 -> 80, CUL +0 -> 80, WVR +0 -> 80, GSM +0 -> 77, FSH +0 -> 65, MIN +0 -> 74, ALC +0 -> 69, LTW +0 -> 65, ARM +0 -> 65, CRP +0 -> 64, BSM +0 -> 65. Vath 0/0 Rank 8/9 Bloodsworn, Vanu 1650/1730 Rank 7/9 Sworn, Moggles 300/1730 Rank 7/9 Sworn. 5 MSQ quests. Just started Securing the Saltery. Did not play today. Too tired. UwU♡ ✔✔

Vamp shiz - 0 words written! Up to 9511. 1687 words for pt6. Always the grind for the next part - but none today. Nope🚫

2 anime eps - Mob Psycho 100 II! 7&8 done! UwU♡ ✔

Other things - Manhwa: Survive as the Hero’s Wife 2 chapters of this read Nope🚫! In other news: Did my daily Cozy Grove and still loving it! Unsleeping City 2 episode 7 done Nope🚫. my everything hurts, i am exhausted, i am even more excited for Acthar - i’m still hurtling into insomnia city and it sucks as it always does. Bleh. Had a bit of a weird manic idkwhattocallit earlier. After my Dr appointment (everything is good to go for me) and while Sir was out at His therapist appointment, i just... i paced. i got up and paced and paced and paced. Then i... idk. Lost a little bit of time, as i am wont to do, then had my tarot cards in my hand, shuffling and shuffling. Drew three - not a ppf draw, just a general draw and... oh lawd. First card - 8 of swords. Second card - Empress. Third card - Judgement. Talk about a smack to my gottverdammt face. Whew. But yea, as soon as i had all three the energy just dipped like it had never been. Wild. Talked about it with Sir and He and i came to the conclusion that i need to do some creative outputting things. So! i worked on my book. Yea, that thing. That i made a list for and then ignored for like, a month. Yep that. i wrote like 600 words, the initial scenes that have been shuffling (it is very tarot inspired and uses tarot in it, so, haha puns?) in my head (no seriously i’ve heard the sound of cards shuffling on and off (more on than off) for like 3 weeks now. So. Ya know.) and now it’s silent in my head. Sigh. Fuckin’ tarot. Heh. But yea so that was my day, basically, and i’m utterly bone deep exhausted. i feel it in my soul. Whew. Emotional things make me exhausted, who’d’ve thunk it. Exhausted. Achey. Still haven’t gotten my card, anxiety is high, but, that’s a problem for tomorrow. Tonight’s problem is sleep.

Food: A Liquid: A Pain: B Brain: C

Tomorrow: Wash 2 plates/bowls/pieces of silverware, 2 chapters, Dailies, Vamp shiz, 2 anime eps.

Ever Onwards and Upwards!

[thefemalecampaign-blog]

Meet A Young Visionary. #GirlBoss

Meet a Young Visionary: We had the opportunity of interviewing a young bright, talented soul by the name of Kaylan Jefferson. Many of you may also know her as “The Visionary Boss.” She’s currently taking the world by storm with her blog platform that showcases her style, writing, other influential women, but she’s also launched her own organization at the age of nineteen. Whew! Now that she has inspired us, we hope that you become inspired too.

Now for starters, she’s very confident with who she is and what she does. When we asked her about herself, some of her goals, and basically her influences this is what she had to say:

 “I like the refer to myself as the one & only muse. I use the rhythm of my conversation and words to create intimate, vulnerable think pieces, to witty narratives and self-improvement, and candid, groundbreaking content. I’m newly nineteen years old and it feels wonderful. I have always been a huge life enthusiast. Funny, I’m somewhat of an introvert, but I have a fondness for communication and networking. When I was younger my passions ranged from wanting to being an author, a fashion designer, to a cinematographer. Nonetheless, in one sense or another, I wanted to be a boss. A CEO! Hence my blog and platform: The Visionary Boss. I was born up north, but have lived in Tampa for pretty much all of my life. As far as influential women in my life, I would definitely pay homage to my mother: a queen, a beautiful soul and a great confidant, all in one. My mom has always supported me and been someone I look up to, entrepreneurial wise and more. She has this eclectic, earthy, warm approach to everything she does. Her seamless nature almost seems effortless, at times. That’s the kind of boss I want to be—I want to execute my passions and moves in a natural, fitting way.”

 Not only has Kaylan been an influencer herself, she has also been influenced by someone very close to her to start her on business venture. When we asked Kaylan about who influenced her to start her own business, she said:

“My mother has influenced me to start my own business, because she was an entrepreneur and a self-made business woman at the age of nineteen. I am gracefully following her lead. Being a business owner is humbling, because I'm constantly challenging myself. Everyday, I am trying different methods to reach an audience. At the moment, I am selling sophisticated, sleek sunglasses. For $5 you can either get a cup of coffee, or a beautifully crafted pair of sunnies from an independent, black-owned business. I started the Visionary Boss Shop when I was a senior in high school. I remember investing my money into the project, getting a great model to showcase the shades, and taking the photos for them. I was told that my idea was 'small' and 'good-luck growing my little business,' by an individual at the time. Now, I just smile, because I'm genuinely happy that I got the experience of creating and developing my own merchandise. No one can take that away from me. I do not wear it on my sleeve, but I am proud to call myself an entrepreneur.”

 Your brand has to be very unique and the name has to along with some type of message. We thought that “The Visionary Boss” was very unique and wanted to figure out what the meaning was behind it:

 “The Visionary Boss is not an alter ego or alias. It is merely my reality. Being a Visionary Boss is dreaming, envisioning and creating an aesthetic of your own while making waves. I am creating visuals, literature and content with simplistic, realistic concepts and story lines that have life-changing tendencies and perspectives. Rewind to my sophomore year of high school. Second semester. During this time in my life, I was in the process of preparing for a pageant. I made it through the auditions, initial interviews, the practices, panels of judges before the show, the photo-shoots and finally the dress rehearsals. The morning of the pageant, we had rehearsal and the host and main coordinator of the show gave all the girls the run-down of the live show and some questions we'd have the answer, after the 'runway' portion of the show. "Describe yourself in one word." That's what he told us. From that moment on, 'visionary' just was ingrained to me. I'm an introspective, deep thinker. I reminisce while dreaming of the future to create a present. It is always my season.”

  Being a female entrepreneur has become more common in today’s age. One thing that can detour a lot of people away is how to start and where to start. Getting your idea from pen and paper to reality can be hard, but it’s not impossible. Our young visionary had a few words for our young, upcoming entrepreneurs:

“My advice for aspiring, young entrepreneurs is to plan accordingly and to be realistic. A blog, a business or any passion project does not happen overnight—but it does require late nights. Being strategic and thinking ahead is my best advice. Also, less is more. You do not need to tackle a million different avenues to be seen as a worthy entrepreneur. Minimalism is a beautiful thing. Have a clean-cut office setting to do your work, be organized and ahhhhhh, take a deep breath. I’m all for being on my grind, but if something is effecting my mental state, then I will take a break. This summer, I’m balancing my summer pre-med classes, my full-time marketing coordinating job, and the glorious thing I call my blog: The Visionary Boss. 24 hours is not enough. Like Ginuwine said, ‘Give me 24, give me 24.’ So, basically, I never try to overwork myself. I can simply just get up the next morning and get as much as I can do, possible. Real bosses get sleep, haha.

You asked what problems I’ve faced as a young, black entrepreneur. For starters, being a young, black entrepreneur is a market and network of its own. Personally, I have not had any huge, underlying issues or obstacles. If anything, I think being a young black woman influencer, entrepreneur and blogger has helped me. But, universally speaking, I do think there is too much of a ‘I’m a bigger boss’ elitist competition between young black professionals, bloggers, etc.  The world—at least the independent black marketing and network world would be a lot more vibrant, if people built together. Too many times I scroll down my Insta feed and see young black fashion designers, models, bloggers, influencers and business owners who have this super elitist complex and promote the fact that they have haters and copiers. Yawn! Not everything has to be this elaborate, over the top competition. Just put your heart and soul into your work, be confident in that and network with others.”

Passion is the one thing that seems to drive any and every one when it comes to their dreams. Kaylan was able to tell us her passions and how she figured out what her passions were at a young age:

“My number one passion in life is to evoke a feeling of warmth, inspiration and revelation. I have a passion for aesthetics, literature, film, the universe, the cosmos, the ocean, the mind and body. I organically figured out my passions when I was fifteen. It was on a Summer night that I call one of my many 'nostalgic nights.' It is the intuition you get about life on a hot summer night or intimate fall evening. It is the reflection along with a dream. I want to create eminent, eclectic masterpieces with ancient allusions, aspects from traditional literature and atmospheric, relevant vibes. And, I want to write. And be a CEO. These are my passions, that may be larger-than-life to some, but heaven sent to me.”

We live in a society that has powerful women making their marks in every industry. These women to say the least, influence majority of us in many ways to pursue our own dreams. Our fellow young boss had a few influential women in mind:

“There are so many bold, unapologetic women powerhouses. From Ava Duvernay, to Debbie Allen, Oprah Winfrey,  Issa Rae, to Solange and Beyonce Knowles. Those are women bosses, right there. All of these women are creators, producers and game-changers when it comes to filmmaking, entertainment and creating vivid concepts. I am an aspiring cinematographer and I have filmed, produced, edited and created mini documentaries, short visuals and look-books. In high school, I spent a lot of time dissecting behind-the-scenes and production for music videos, critically-acclaimed movies and even concerts. I wanted to be the modern-day female Spike Lee. But, in all honesty I thank the women mentioned above for inspiring me.”

There’s always speculation about what the future may hold for many, but Kaylan seems to continue to have the bright spirit and drive to succeed and tap into way more in the future:

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with this answer, because I have a dozen vision boards in the back of my head. Ten years from now I will be twenty-nine years old. I will have my pharmacy degree, (cheers to that), and continue to be the CEO of The Visionary Boss. Honestly, I have always envisioned myself living a simplistic, yet larger-than-life life. By 29, I will be married to my equivalent, and he will most likely have a growing business—and we’ll be partners for a business that is something organic or natural, or dealing with fitness. Maybe all three.  I would have successfully spent my twenties, traveling, networking, branding and taking lots of photos, capturing the warm, exciting moments. But honestly, in ten years I want my platform to turn into a brand, and I want to promote my lifestyle to others and be a great CEO.”

Being a young, black entrepreneur can have its cons but it for sure has its pro’s. Kaylan, who is a young, black entrepreneur herself feels the complete opposite of what most may think about being a black female entrepreneur:

“It feels limitless. The only thing stopping young, black entrepreneurs is believing you have to follow a specific formula. And trying to separate thyself from older, original influencers to seem 'different.' There is nothing wrong with being influenced!”

 As a entrepreneur, your number one goal should be making an impact or mark on the world instead of sitting around not trying to make change. Honestly, that’s what being an entrepreneur is about… making change. When Kaylan was asked about how she plans to make an even bigger impact on the world, this is what she had to say:

 “Recently, I started and launched an organization for Top-Shelf, ambitious, creative, well-rounded, vibrant young women + boss babes in Tampa who want to network and give back. This organization and sisterhood is called MUSE—because I, The Visionary Boss surrounds and supports herself around other goddesses who are creative influencers. Through this organization, I want to show representation to young WOC and create a refreshing networking environment for like-minded aspiring bosses.”

 We want to thank Kaylan for wanting to be apart of our campaign and being such a boss she is. We hope she has many more successes in the future!

 Her social media handles:

IG- @thevisionaryboss

Youtube- Cake and Kat

Twitter-@visionary_boss

[brandnuswagga]

The Unemployed Chronicles pt. 7 Keep the Faith

I had been meaning to add another installment to the #unemployedchronicles but I always got sidetracked. Last night while playing GTA 5 (my new found outlet) I had an urging then on this morning I had an interesting phone call that cemented my intentions. This month has been tough for me. I lost someone who was like a 2nd mother to me. There are no words that can describe how I felt and still feel. Then my boys, my sons, whom I have been with since 2013 or 2014, had decided that they would be returning to me the upcoming school year. I was floored. I had watched the younger one leave, from my home, for the 1st day of school since the 4th grade. He is now going to the 8th grade (I hate Facebook Memories). I could not focus on the boys leaving because that would do more damage than good. I had another important date quickly approaching that I was not looking forward to and a home-going celebration to prepare for. My god-sister called me and asked if I would do a slideshow that would play during the viewing portion of the home-going celebration, I agreed. The funny thing is that my godmother had me prepare for this nearly a year ago. She asked me to come over and take all the photos off her phone and put them on her computer so that I could do a slideshow movie. I didn't understand why she wanted me to back then but I understand now. Fast forward, I get through the home-going, not without balling my eyes out and having more than a few breakdown moments. The family came together and celebrated her life, love, and legacy on August 16th & 17th she would have wanted. Their strength during that time was nothing short of amazing. Her daughter, by God grace and mercy, gathered enough strength not to only sing a solo but also to speak about her mother but also give us words of encouragement. Her son spoke as well then reminded us that she is sleep that we will see her again in that "great getting up morning". Whew, I'm tearing up thinking about it, moving on. We came together again on August 20th, for what would have been her 55th birthday, for a balloon release. Again, the family pulled together against anguish, grief, and pain and celebrated her once again. While I am yet grieving the loss of my godmother and the fact that my boys aren't returning August 21st walks right in. August 21st marked the day I was let go from the hotel and the last day I was employed full-time. I was saddened that I had not (in my mind) progressed in 2 years. I was still without full-time employment. I was still living with my mother. I am without my boys for the 1st time in about 5 or 6 years. I was at a crossroads of my life at 40 years old. I don't consult too many people because their advice is counterproductive for me. I have lived my life taking care of others for so long and now I have no one to take care of but myself. I know I need to give myself some "me time" and I have been for the better part of the summer since the boys left. I have taken myself to the movies. I have gone out to eat. I have catered to me. But I had not focused on me. Focusing on me meant, mind, body, and soul, it meant emotionally, physically, and spiritually. It meant a mental health check (just talking to someone about what's going on with you). I know that taboo but I love me too much and I feel like that I can't pull off (fashion-wise) that white jacket with the extra-long sleeves and buckles. I can't do white rooms and I am not for any more extended stays in any more state-run facilities that are not my home (don't ask). I had to be aware of my physical health. After my accident in July, I have been experiencing some back and leg pains. I have been going to doctors and physical therapy and it has helped. I have lost about 12lbs within the last month. I contribute the weight loss to PT and also some to life's unforeseen circumstances. My goal is to drop an additional 63lbs, y'all pray for me. The last one, soul & spirit, is the most important because it is tied to my spirit. You see if I am not fit spiritually and my soul is not anchored, then this past month I would have been a wreck. The losses and devastation have taken a toll on me but it has not taken me out. I had an interesting phone call today with my nephew, Brandon. I was facing some hardships and it was beginning to weigh him down so much that he starts to doubt and question whether he should throw in the towel. We bantered back and forth on various subjects and scenarios until something hit me. Had I not going through a certain race in my life back in 2009 then I would not have been able to endure this hurdles I am facing now in 2019. If I had not gotten over the mountain then, I would not be able to deal with the hill of today. I understand what faith and patience is because I had to have them both to get out of the valley of shadows and death. I had to have faith and patience then to believe that God was going to bring me out and restore me (my godmother told me that 15yrs ago). I had to believe that a door was going to open for me and it did in 2010. My faith and patience along with the saints' prayers produce a job that normally would not have been possible for me to have. Remember with God nothing is impossible. I was blessed to be able to not only obtain the job but also be promoted to the top. I was blessed to be able to give my godson his first job. I was able to give some people the same opportunity that was given to me. Life was good. But now, I am in the same position I was in 10 years ago and I have to stand and believe that the same God that did it then will do it now. I have been on countless interviews. I have submitted resumes endlessly. I have applied to hundreds of jobs and nothing has come of it. The conversation between my nephew and I went on and I had to tell him that I have experienced dark time and they will pass. I just have to keep believing that "This too will pass." That means I have to keep applying to jobs. I have to keep submitting my resume. I have to keep going on these interviews because God WILL open a door. God WILL make a way. God WILL answer. I have to believe that He WILL because if I give up then I doomed. I will have accepted failure. I will be the thing that I despise the most and scares me as well; a sorry ass man who lives at home with his momma and does nothing all day. He looks to be taken care of without putting forth an effort to care for himself. He has placed his care and well-being in the hands of others while he sits and does nothing. That very thing pushes me each and every day to get out of the house and do something. I contribute to the household and I try to be as helpful as I can. My mom is great but can be too easy and that annoys me so much. Mothers, wives, girlfriends, sisters, cousin, fathers, brothers, etc, don't make it easy for any man to live with you and not contribute to the household. If he is not being an asset then he is a liability. Set rules and boundaries. Give him a reasonable timeline that is can/will be adjusted based on his activity, meaning if he is not doing anything then his timeline is very short. However, if he is out there grinding and pounding the pavement and things are not moving as fast but he is trying then extend the timeline as you see fit. Do not allow a man to sit do nothing and be nothing under your watch. You will leave the earth one day and there is a chance that no one else will but up with your baby so make him move. Push him out the nest. Throw him in the water because anything less would be a disservice to him in the long run. Set rules for your home and he must live by. People with no other place to go will follow those rules and those that don't must have another spot that can lay up. In closing, I don't know who you are but don't give up. God timing and your timing are not the same. I have struggled with the fact that I am 40yrs old trying to find a good-paying job so that I can restart my life (again!) but I have to remember the story of Abraham and Sarah. When I see visions of myself working and in my own home but the surroundings of today don't match up, I have to remember that David was anointed to be king when he was a youth or adolescent but did not become king until he was 30 years old. God is always on time. God will never leave you nor forsake you. God is working things out in the unseen so when it is your time, you will walk in it with ease. So wake up each day expecting it to be the day and carry on with the expectancy, thankfulness, and gratitude. Remember, each day you wake up is God saying "I'm not finished with you yet." Today will be great and tomorrow will be better. Believe in the unbelievable. Wait with expectancy. Don't focus on what you have lost but focus on what you still have. Be thankful because it truly could be worse but God's grace and mercy have kept you and will continue to until He calls you home.

[josephkitchen0]

The Many Uses of the Chicory Plant

It’s getting to be that time of year when wildflowers appear a-plenty along roadsides everywhere. As I drive along, I like seeing the colors appear and trying to figure out what all those plants are. Lately, I noted a sea of pale blue and I wondered: what is that? A quick search and I found my answer; the Chicory plant.

I knew the Chicory plant was on the edible plants list, but I couldn’t remember what parts of the plant were edible or how to prepare them. It was time to do some research. I love learning new things, especially about foraging and understanding the plants growing around me, so I was excited to do some reading.

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About the Chicory Plant

Often called a “blue dandelion,” the Chicory plant has a lot in common with its cousin, the dandelion. You can eat the flowers, leaves and root of both plants. They will both add bitterness to your salad mix, but can be blanched to lessen that effect. The dandelion flower is less intense than the chicory blossom. Some say you can add the pretty blue flowers to a salad; others say they are too bitter.

Like many weeds, this perennial blooms summer into early fall. It is hardy and often found growing places where you wouldn’t expect flowers to thrive. Chicory is commonly seen near roadsides, in highway medians, at the overgrown edges of fields and even in gravel filled areas where nothing else can make it. It’s everywhere! I took this photo waiting on the light on the highway off-ramp.

Interestingly, there are a number of weeds on the edible plants list growing along the state route where we live. Not only will you find chicory plant, but also the milkweed plant, Queen Anne’s lace, honeysuckle, thistle, staghorn sumac and wild grapes. If you know what you are looking for, you can find plants to make everything from wine to jam and lemonade to medicinal remedies.

Milkweed

Wild grapes

Queen Anne’s Lace

Honeysuckle vine

Thistle

Staghorn Sumac

Chicory Benefits

Chicory has been utilized for its therapeutic qualities as far back as the Ancient Egyptians. I recently learned about how Chicory plant has been used throughout time as a home remedy for headaches. It’s also been used to relieve water retention issues, to reduce inflammation and to assist with digestive problems. The leaves, in particular, are rich in vitamins; particularly iron, calcium and copper.

There is a very informative full nutritional profile available on the Food Facts website. This site points out the chicory plant, particularly its root, as a good source of Vitamin A (114 percent of your recommended daily value) and Vitamin C (40 percent of DV).

Harvesting the Chicory Plant

There is some debate over whether these plants should be harvested if they have been absorbing car fumes along the roadside, but that’s a choice you’ll have to make for yourself. Many roadsides are also sprayed with chemicals. I figure our country road, even though it’s a state route, gets a lot less traffic than the highway, and they don’t spray much of the road by us. So I’m going start my harvest there.

As I set out with my shovel and my bucket, though, I find that the plants along our stretch of the road aren’t very big.  Because my husband mows so regularly, they don’t get a whole lot of time to re-grow. I need a spot that’s kind of neglected and doesn’t get mowed often. Back to the drawing board …

I get in my car and drive further down the road. I don’t have to go far before I come upon a huge field that has a really lush stand of Chicory plants at its edge. I park my car and get out with my shovel and buckets. The farmer sees me and comes up, “What’s going on young lady?” he asks. I respond, “Would you mind if I dig out some of these weeds at the edge of your field?”  He looks at me incredulously. I go on, “I want some of this Chicory plant so I can try to make coffee with it.”  He smiles and says, “Go for it. You can have all the weeds you want. Have fun!”

He turns and walks away as I set to work. I want the whole plant so that I can try all the various parts: flowers, leaves and root. That means I need to loosen the soil all around the base of each plant so that I can pull out as much of the long taproot as possible. I pick a nice big plant to begin with and jump on my shovel to get it deep into the soil on all sides of the Chicory plant. Then I grab the stem near the base of the plant and yank.  It slides out nicely, with just a little resistance. Continuing in this way, it doesn’t take me long to collect two big buckets of plants. With everything loaded back into my car, I wave at the farmer and head home.

After arriving home, I start to pull my Chicory plants apart. I take the flowers off and put them in a bowl.

  I pick some of the freshest looking leaves off and put them in a different bowl.

  Then I take a serrated knife and cut the roots free from the plants.  This is a challenge!  The roots are tough.

  When I examine my harvest, I have one really nice big root and lots of much smaller ones.

Most of the resources I read said the roots should really be harvested in the fall so probably if you are patient and wait until the proper time, you’ll get more for your effort.  I’ll work with what I got though.

I put water in my buckets and use a good old scrub brush to clean the roots.  They are caked in wet dirt so this takes some time.

Once clean, I bring the roots, leaves and flowers inside. The latter two I stick in the fridge until I’m ready to make my salad.  The roots I leave out on the counter to dry a bit. Now the real fun begins!

A Chicory Salad

As I mentioned above, the leaves of the chicory plant are edible, though bitter.  They are supposed to be more tender and less intense in the early spring.  I’m a little late on that (it’s late June as I’m writing) but I’m going to give it a try anyway.

I have a lot of good salad items in my garden now, so I’ve decided to make a lunch salad with Chicory leaves and flowers added to it.

I gather my ingredients from the garden: lettuce, sweet peppers, a watermelon radish, a few small beets and a cucumber.

The beets I boil, peel and chop.

Everything else I just clean and cut up.  To this, I add the chicory greens and a few of the lavender chicory flowers, both rinsed well.

For a dressing, I make a batch of the Chive Balsamic Vinaigrette featured in my story on garlic infused white wine vinegar.

I won’t lie, those greens were bitter! The flowers weren’t so bad, but I would only add a few pieces of the greens, chopped up into small pieces if I had them again. Another option is to get them earlier in the spring, when their flavor is supposed to be more tolerable. Or, like dandelion greens, you can cook them, which helps lessen the bitterness. My dad recounts memories of his grandmother cooking dandelion greens and pokeweed leaves in bacon fat and how it was always so delicious.  You can see his mouth start to water when he talks about it.

If you have a lot of flowers, you can also try pickling them. I found an interesting recipe, but didn’t have enough flowers to try it.

A Coffee-Lover’s Adventure: Chicory Root Coffee

As a coffee lover, I was intrigued when I heard about this plant that could be used to make a coffee-like drink or could be mixed with coffee to enrich flavors. I had to try it!

To make chicory coffee, you have to roast the roots. So I gathered up the roots I had cleaned earlier, chopped them into smaller pieces and laid them out on a cookie sheet.

I set my oven to its lowest possible temperature: 170 degrees. I put the roots in the oven and went about my day. Occasionally I came in and turned the roots, but mostly it just took time.

The roots cooked for about seven hours and when they came out they were totally dried out and smelled amazing. I wish I could somehow make this a scratch-and-sniff story so that you could share in the mix of nutmeg and cocoa that filled the oven after I took out my cooked roots.

The last step is to grind it up into a powder. For this, I used a small coffee grinder. It didn’t grind it into a super fine powder, but it did a pretty good job for a simple little machine.  It’ll be good enough for the French Press.

I poured the ground, roasted roots into a jar for storage. Tomorrow I will give it a try mixed with some coffee.

I became a coffee drinker while living in Milan my junior year of college so the only coffee I drink is espresso. I have a little macchinetta di caffe that I got in Italy, which I use every morning. So my first experiment was chicory espresso. I prepared my coffee as usual but filled the strainer cup with half espresso and half chicory root. It tasted very similar to what I usually drink but maybe with a bit more spice to it.

Next I wanted to try straight chicory coffee using a French Press. I measured out 1/4 cup of my ground up roots and put them in the bottom of the French Press. Over that I added several cups of hot water that I prepared in the tea kettle.

I let it steep about eight minutes then pushed down the strainer.

It looked more like a tea than a coffee but that’s ok.

I poured some in one of my mother’s lovely little tea cups and gave it a try. Whew! It was strong … earthy … bitter! A little sweeter helped tremendously. It did have the same after taste as coffee does, that slightly bitter taste at the back of your mouth. I could see why people mix it with coffee or, in times past, used it as a replacement for coffee.

My final experiment was kind of like a chicory mocha. I added a teaspoon of cocoa to my cup and filled it back up from the French Press. I mixed it together well and drank a little. Now that I could drink regularly. The sweetness of the cocoa offset the bitterness of the chicory plant to make quite a nice drink. And you get the Vitamins A and C from the Chicory plant while enjoying the flavor of the chocolate.

I hope you learned something new from my little country culinary adventure.

What edib®ave growing in your yard? Let us know in the comments below.

The Many Uses of the Chicory Plant was originally posted by All About Chickens