#i wrote part 1 early in book 4 when i still liked min

[markantonys]

readers of my “to build a home” fic series (the one with all the flowers)........would you be mad if i retconned all the foreshadowing of min being in the polycule and cut her out of it and left it at rand/mat/elayne/avi, and gaslit you into thinking the previous installments never implied min was gonna be involved and you’re crazy for thinking they did? (if i went this route i would probably go back and edit the prior installments to get rid of these moments, so as not to look like an inconsistent clown to future readers of the series.)

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn’t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.” or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

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Chapter 6 - to be posted.

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Part 5

Summary: Soulmates have different ways of being connected to one another. Sometimes it’s through being able to write on their arms and having it show up on their soulmates. For others it was having their first words spoken to one another permanently tattooed into their skin. You had a unique connection with yours, one that you really hadn’t ever heard of happening before. Whatever song was stuck in your soulmate’s head was also stuck in yours and the same was for them. When Yoongi realizes one of his songs is playing on repeat in your head, he immediately takes to writing songs to communicate with you in hopes it will finally bring you two together.

Genre: Fluff. Just pure tooth rotting, sweet fluff.

Whew this was a long one. 4.5k words

Part 1     Part 2      Part 3     Part 4     Part 6

As you stepped off the plane you couldn’t believe it. You were finally in Seoul, the same city as your soul mate. That alone felt indescribable. It was a happiness you had never known. The past day was hectic. Trying to book last minute plane tickets and a hotel room. You didn’t even know how long you were going to be staying here depending on how well things went with Yoongi. You booked your hotel for a week just to be safe, knowing you could cancel if you absolutely had to. You considered coming alone, but your friend was very insistent that they go with you. You were traveling to a foreign country to meet your soulmate. Your friend wouldn’t miss this for the world, but also wanted to be there as a support and help in any way they could.

You arrived to the hotel and unpacked your belongings and immediately flopped down onto the bed.

“Jet lag sucks.”

“Indeed it does. I feel like I could sleep for the next 10 years.” Within moments your friend was snoring and clutching the pillow tightly. You giggled quietly to yourself and pulled your phone out to see if Yoongi had posted anything else. There were no new songs, but there was a new post from him. It was a selfie of him and oh gosh he looked so adorable it made your heart flutter. The caption underneath the photo just said “I can’t wait to see you.”

A bunch of army had commented underneath that they couldn’t wait to see him too. Their tour was starting in a little over a month. You knew what the real meaning was behind the photo. And you quickly typed a reply.

“I can’t wait to see you too. It’s such a short time away.”

You set your phone down and were about to try and sleep for a little bit when a notification went off. ‘I’m not Min Yoongi’ had sent you another reply.

Isn’t it late where you are at now? What are you still doing awake?

You glance at the clock and see that it is only 8:00 pm. You have a long way to go until morning.

Actually I am in Seoul right now. So it’s only 8:00 in the evening. Besides, how do you know where I live? You stalking me?

Ah no! no! You just um… always seemed to reply early in the morning here. So I figured it was late wherever you were.

Yoongi face palms. Smooth save, Min.

Ah okay. Makes sense I guess.

So what are you doing in Seoul?

Hopefully meeting my soulmate.

Oh! That’s exciting! I hope everything goes well for you two.

Me too. I hope everything goes the way I am thinking it will but.. we’ll see.

Well if you were traveling all day aren’t you tired? Shouldn’t you be in bed?

Yes I should be but I can’t sleep. I’m too anxious.

I’m sure your soulmate feels the same. But they would want you to get your rest and take care of yourself.

You’re right. I’ll try my best.

What usually helps you sleep?

Um.. well this might sound silly but I fall asleep easily to Yoongi’s songs and videos of him just talking? His voice is so soothing.

Huh.. I see. You like his voice then?

Yes. Very much. It almost feels like.. coming home after a long trip. Just that comfort of knowing you are home.

Yoongi blushes at this and the sweet compliments.

Maybe he’ll surprise you and do a vlive or something.

Hah, I can only wish.

After that you don’t get a reply. You do however, get a notification on your phone that Yoongi is doing a Vlive. You laugh to yourself as you realize that there is no way that account wasn’t him at this point. You pull out your phone.

You know for someone who isn’t Min Yoongi you sure called that one right.

It’s just a voice live, you hear his phone go off and then hear him quietly chuckling into the mic. You don’t receive a reply but don’t anticipate you will at this point. Yoongi says something in Korean to start that you don’t quite catch what he says, but then he repeats himself in English.

“I heard from some of you that you like my voice and it’s calming to you. Since it’s nearing the end of the night I figured this would be a good way for you all to relax and unwind after a long day.” You smile to yourself and put your headphones in, quickly drifting off to sleep. You wake up a few hours later. When you glance at the clock you see it’s after midnight. You groan and sit up, looking over to the other bed to see your friend completely passed out still. You’ve always envied how deeply they seem to sleep.

As you sit there, the anxiety begins to come back. How nervous you are is finally starting to settle in. What if he doesn’t like you? What if you don’t get along? What if he was hoping his soulmate was someone famous? Are you good enough for him? Your leg starts shaking back and forth before you can’t sit still any longer. You crawl out of bed and slip your shoes on, quietly heading out the door as you don’t want to wake up your friend. You walk outside into the fresh air and find that it is helping you calm down to be able to just walk.

You don’t know where you are heading, but you have your phone with you and can easily find your way back to the hotel with the GPS. You put your headphones back in and just walk. You are listening to the playlist you had made of the few songs Yoongi had wrote for you and continue wandering and humming along. After you listen to all of the songs at least once you come across a bench with a man sitting on it. You don’t pay him any attention and walk on by, lost in your own world. You don’t make it very far before you feel a gentle tug on the bottom of your shirt. You turn around and see the man looking up at you. His bottom half of his face is covered and he’s wearing a beanie and heavy coat. Clearly he doesn’t want to be seen. You panic for a second thinking maybe he was going to mug you before he says something to you.

“What?”

“Ah, foreigner?” You nod.

“I said it’s dangerous to be outside alone this late.” He repeats in English. Your heart nearly drops to your stomach. You know that voice. You’d recognize it anywhere.

“Yoongi?” His eyes widen at that and now he seems to be the one panicked.

“Shit.. Are you a fan? Please don’t tell anyone you saw me and don’t freak out and scream. I go out late to avoid people for a reason-”

“Yoongi stop. It’s me!”

“Am I supposed to know you? Please don’t tell you’re a sasaeng. Wow this is just my luck.”

“It’s y/n!” Yoongi freezes and drops his hand to his side and he looks a little angry if the way he furrows his brows at you is any indication.

“Funny joke. Haha okay what do you want? An autograph?”

“No I’m serious Yoongi it’s me! We’ve been talking on Twitter back and forth! Ah wait no I’m sorry that wasn’t Min Yoongi I forgot.” You say with a smirk on your face.

“I… There’s no way. Let me see your phone.” You pull it out and unlock it, then hand it over to him. He opens up your Twitter and goes to your notifications and sure enough, there’s your conversations. “Oh my god.. Y/n it’s really you.” He hands your phone back and just stares at you in shock.

“Um.. So… what-“

“No, no! Absolutely not! I did not spend all night writing that song about us meeting for the first time for you to just bump into me on the street. I refuse.”

“Yoongi! You can’t fight fate-“

“Like hell I can’t. Watch me.” He stands up and grabs you, turning your shoulders around to face away from him and gives you a gentle push. “Now you march your cute little butt back to your hotel and we can try this again tomorrow.”

“Yoongi, oh my god.” You burst out laughing and your shoulders begin to shake with you how much you are laughing. You can hear him chuckling behind you before his hands move down and wrap around your waist, pulling you into a back hug.

“You have no idea how happy I am to finally have you here. I have never felt so many emotions in my heart at once but they are all good and they are all because of you.” You let your hands move down and your fingers play with his where they are resting on your waist. “But I really want to do this right. So please. Let’s pretend this first encounter never happened. And I’ll see you tomorrow at the river.. okay?” You smile and nod your head.

“Okay, Yoongi. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Can we meet earlier in the afternoon though instead of the evening. I-“

“Ah! Nope! My song says a crisp autumn EVENING. Not day. You’re just going to have to be patient now go on then!” He lets go of you and you let out a giggle but continue walking down the sidewalk. You don’t miss the footsteps trailing behind you on the way.

“What are you doing? I thought you said you didn’t want to meet until tomorrow? Now you’re following me back to my hotel? Scandalous. We haven’t even had our first date and you’re already-”

“Yah! Shush. I just want to make sure you make it back safely. I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s not safe at night time. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Okay.” You smile the whole way back. When you reach the hotel lobby and turn around he’s already gone. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you walk back to your hotel room. You open the door quietly and shuffle back in, kicking your shoes off and collapsing into bed. Your friend is awake now.

“Where did you go?”

“Just for a walk. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah, too anxious to meet him for the first time?” You laugh to yourself.

“Yeah, I was. But the walk really helped me. I think I am really ready to see him now.”

“Good! Now get some rest! We have a big day ahead. Well you do anyways. I’ll just be hanging around here anxiously waiting for you to get back and tell me every single detail of your first meeting.”

“Sure thing. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight y/n. I’m sure Yoongi is going to love you. You have nothing to worry about.” You roll over onto your side and before long you are about to drift off to sleep when a noise from your phone brings you out of your drowsy daze. You see it’s a notification for twitter. Yoongi, sent you a message.

By the way, you’re absolutely the most beautiful person I have ever seen.

You smile and your cheeks heat up, feeling a warmth in your chest as you finally drift off to sleep.

You don’t wake up until late afternoon. The jet lag, coupled with the anxiety you felt last night before meeting Yoongi and being up late had allowed you to sleep for a long time. You probably would have still been asleep if your friend wouldn’t have woken you up to go eat lunch. You don’t tell them that you already met Yoongi, having promised to pretend like it never happened and you intended to keep your word. You spend the day exploring the city, even going to the Line Friends store and picking up a few items to spoil yourself a little bit. You walk around and eat until it’s now starting to get dark outside.

“We should probably head over to the park now. I’ll ride in the taxi with you there but then after I drop you off I’ll head back to the hotel.”

“Wait why don’t you just wait for me? What if something goes wrong and-“ Your friend flicks your forehead.

“Y/n don’t start that nonsense. You two are probably going to be out together all night. Just text me and check in. Let me know how everything is going, alright?” You nod and hug your friend tightly.

“Thank you for coming with me, and pushing me out of my comfort zone. And annoying Yoongi with your horrible songs. If it weren’t for you I probably wouldn’t have met him.”

“Hmmm, yes you would. Fate would have made sure of it, but I will take the praise anyway.” Just then a taxi pulls up and you both get in. But when you arrive at the park only you get out. You wave to your friend as the car pulls away. The butterflies in your stomach feel like they are going to fly out of your mouth at any moment. You walk along the riverside, admiring the views and listening to the sounds of the crickets. You notice up ahead all of the flowers and your pace quickens when you notice Yoongi standing in the middle of all of them. He spots you and immediately starts waving. But you ignore it and keep walking. He stops waving and tilts his head in confusion.

“Y/n!” He yells your name but you still continue walking along the path towards him. “Are you going to say hi to me or not?!”

“Huh? Sorry do I know you?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“We’ve never met before. How do you know my name?” You are trying so hard not to laugh when it finally clicks with Yoongi.

“Ah yes you’re right. My mistake. Are you here to meet with someone?”

“Yes. My soulmate told me to meet him among the cosmos.” You say with a smile. Yoongi is absolutely beaming as he reaches down and takes your hand in his.

“Well then that would be me. I’m Yoongi. But you must have already known that if you heard my songs for you.” He brings your hand up to his lips and gently kisses the back of it. The shock it sends through you almost brings you to your knees.

“I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you soul mate.” Yoongi’s gummy smile widens further before he pulls you tightly into his arms. His hug is bone crushing, making it slightly hard for you to breathe but there is no way you would ask him to let go. Your arms are around his neck pulling him impossibly closer to you. He nuzzles his face into your shoulder and you feel your sweater dampen. You pull away in shock.

“Yoongi why are you crying?”

“Why are YOU crying?”

“I am not!” But you know you are. You can feel the tears streaming down your face and your voice cracks when you talk. “Okay I definitely am.” You both laugh and reach up to wipe each other’s tears away. You spend a few moments with your hands gently ghosting over each other’s faces, wanting to commit the way it feels to memory and make sure that the other was actually there.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here. I never thought we would ever find each other. When I learned that our connections were through the songs we had stuck in our heads, I just lost all hope of ever finding my soulmate.”

“To be honest for a while there I did too. It wasn’t until I first heard your music that I knew. I just felt it immediately that you were my soul mate.”

“I felt that too. When I read your comments on my songs it was like every cell in my body was calling out to you. I just… God I still can’t believe it.” He grabs you and pulls you into another hug. You both stand there for a while, just enjoying the feeling of each other’s warmth. Yoongi is the first to pull away but he doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you on a short walk over to one of the benches overlooking the river. You sit next to each other in a comfortable silence.

“I’m not dreaming am I?” He wonders out loud. You reach over and pinch his side and he jumps away from you with a startled yell. “What was that?!”

“Proving to you that you aren’t dreaming.” He begins to laugh at that and the sound still makes your heart race. “But I know what you mean. It still doesn’t feel real.” Yoongi sits back down on the bench and laces your fingers together again, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Okay I gotta know. What kind of music do you really listen to?” You let out a snort at this.

“All different genres. Definitely not most of the ones that were stuck in your head though.”

“And that was your friend’s idea?”

“Yes. They thought it would be funny to mess with you a little bit. At least show that I have a sense of humor so you at least had some idea of what kind of person I was.”

“Honestly I just thought you were a person with shitty taste in music.” You both laugh playfully at that.

“How did you get the idea? For the songs I mean?”

“Ah, Namjoon gave me the idea to talk to you through song writing. For the past.. hmm month or so? The guys have really been helping me try and think of ways to find my soulmate. I think they were tired of seeing me mope all the time. They all had found theirs so easily I was just.. stuck.” Your heart clenches, knowing that feeling all too well. You squeeze his hand as a comforting gesture.

“I know what you mean.” Yoongi returns your squeeze.

“But hey everything worked out okay in the end right? We’re finally here with each other. I want to know you better. I want to know everything. What you’re passionate about, what things you like and dislike. Where you’re from, about your family, what your childhood was like. What-“

“Whoa there. We have all night Yoongi there is no rush.”

“We um.. have more than a night though right? Like… I know we’re soulmates fated to be together and all that but you still have a choice. Do you want to keep seeing me?” Yoongi seems insecure and unsure of himself now as he plays with the rings on your fingers and refuses to meet your gaze.

“Of course I want to continue seeing you! Why would you think even for a moment I wouldn’t?” He sighs and tries to untangle his hands from yours but you just hold on tighter.

“Being in a relationship with an idol isn’t easy y/n… I don’t think you fully understand what all of this is going to entail. You’re never going to have a moment of privacy. Even when we go out together on dates someone is almost always going to figure out who I am.”

“Well no one has so far tonight right? I think you just need to wear a mask and hide who you are then it won’t be so bad. Especially if we go out at night or go to more secluded places. I know dating an idol isn’t going to be easy but I don’t care about that. I just want to be with you. I’ll take all the good and bad that comes with it.” Yoongi stops trying to hold himself back any longer. He moves his hand behind your head and tugs you in closer to him so he can finally connect his lips to yours.

The kiss is sweet, gentle but loving. It’s like he’s pouring the years of emotions he’s felt towards you into the kiss. There isn’t any sparks or crazy fireworks. Everything just goes quiet, and suddenly it’s like you two are the only ones in the world right now. Yoongi pulls away after a few short moments. Even for just a short kiss you both are a bit breathless.

“Wow. I didn’t know kissing your soulmate would feel like that.” He says in between breatths.

“Me either. That was… perfect.” Yoongi smirks.

“Perfect? Wow am I that good of a kisser?” You playfully smack his arm and he laughs. You two spend quite a while talking on that bench. Asking questions and getting to know each other better. The moon is hanging high in the sky and all the stars are shining on the two of you. The wind starts to pick up and you shiver. “Ah are you cold, sweetheart?” He takes his jacket off and drapes it around you, although you did feel your face heat up at the petname. You hope Yoongi doesn’t notice your blush and will just assume it’s because you’re cold. “We can go now if you want to.” You shake your head back and forth quickly.

“No! I mean.. I don’t want to leave you yet.” His expression softens at your confession.

“Well.. We can go back to my place? If you’re comfortable with that?” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him and he moves away from you.  “Not like that!”

“I’m kidding, Yoongi! I’d love to go back with you. Even if we don’t talk at all. Even if we just sleep it doesn’t matter. I just want to be around you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because I was thinking the same thing.” He stands off the bench and takes your hand to lead you over to the car that was waiting to take the two of you back to his house. You send your friend a quick update text, to let her know everything was okay and going well. They send you back a bunch of heart emojis and you slip the phone back in your pocket. On the way up to his door it doesn’t sneak past your notice that he hasn’t let go of your hand the entire time you two have been together.

“Do you like holding hands?” He blushes and looks away, busying himself with entering the code into the door so it unlocks.

“Um.. Yeah I do. Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. I love it actually.”

“Do you want any tea or anything to drink to help warm you up?”

“Mmm, no. I just need you.” With how much Yoongi has been smiling he’s beginning to wonder if his muscles are just going to be permanently stuck.

“Do you want to go lay down? Maybe watch a movie?”

“That sounds perfect.”

You are both laying down now, in his bed. You are actually laying with Yoongi, your soulmate. Your head resting on his chest while he was a tight grip around your waist. You are starting to fall asleep when you feel his grip suddenly tighten around you. You lift your head up to look at him.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Sorry did I squeeze you too hard?”

“No I just thought maybe something was wrong and you wanted my attention.” Yoongi shakes his head, but bites his lip as if he is thinking deeply about something.

“It’s not that I was upset or anything.. I just wanted to make sure that you were actually here. And that I’m not hallucinating, or just imagining all this. It still doesn’t feel real. I thought I had met my soulmate before. I was so sure but it turned out it was just someone using me for my fame.. And I was so desperate to just have that connection with someone that I ignored all the warning signs. And I know you aren’t like that. I know for 100% certain you’re my soulmate but…“

“But that nagging voice in the back of your head just keeps questioning things?” He nods in confirmation. You sit up and adjust yourself so you’re facing him. You take his face in your hands and make sure he is looking at you and can see the sincerity in your eyes. “I completely understand why you are worried. Believe me. But I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never use you like that. I promise that I am here, that I am real.” You grab his hand and place it on your heart. He closes his eyes and lets himself just feel. Your warmth, the gentle thrumming of your heart beat, the sounds of your breaths. It helps ground him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. If you ever have doubts or are worried about anything you can always come to me. I want to be there for you.” Yoongi smiles that gummy smile that is going to quickly make you fall head over heels in love with him in no time if he keeps directing it at you.

“Thank you y/n.” He pecks your lips and then pats his chest for you to lay back down. Pretty soon your breaths even out and you’ve fallen asleep. Yoongi holds you just a little bit closer, and places a kiss to the top of your head. “I already like you so much and it kind of scares me. But I am going to give you my whole heart, angel. I hope you’ll keep it safe.”

“Don’t worry I will.” Yoongi jumps.

“I thought you were asleep!”

“I was but I am not that heavy of a sleeper remember? I woke up when I heard you talking.” Yoongi blushes but snuggles closer to you.

“Do you want to meet the other members tomorrow?”

“I’d love to! Can I bring my friend too?”

“Of course. You all are going to be a part of the family now we might as well all meet one another.” You smile at that and nuzzle into his chest. You both fall asleep quicker than you ever have before, finally feeling the comfort and safety of being in each other’s arms.

Tag list: @anoesjkaax​​​  @just-call-me-trash-can​ @thestral-balerion​ @xcastielbabyangelface​ @rukinamukami​ @r-e-d-i-s-h​ @heartblackerthancoffee​ @rosita7703​   @jacjacwashere​   @purpletigertaetae​  @woodstockisjustlikealittlekid​  @supernatural-bangtanboys​ @loveyoongles​ @barbikatherine​ @atulipandarose​ @bookluver01​ @cioccocalderoni​ @lyoongx​

@its-yagirl-raelynn it’s not letting me tag you :c 

[littlemeowyoons]

Bonded

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff(lots of them), a drop of angst, Single Dad! AU, College! AU, Introvert! Yoongi, Tutor! Y/n

Word Count:1.8k

Synopsis: Yoongi found a basket left in front of his dorm room one day, and turns out it was his daughter, left alone crying. Puzzled and scared was an understatement. When his 4 semesters roommate Jimin left for his hometown, he was left with the last straw of help, turning to his physics tutor a.k.a friend-that-I-only-know-name-but-have-no-interest-in-knowing-more; you.

Series: Masterlist l Part 1 I Part 3

                                    Pt.2-It’s a girl, dumbass

                                                 °•. ✿ .•°

It took a while for you to realize but as soon as the bottle ran out of milk, you were taken aback by the sleeping figure in your arm. You smiled softly as you take in the infant’s features, starting from its’s soft baby hairs to those closed eyes and lastly to the little pair of soft faint pink lips. Even in sleep, the peaceful feature of the infant enhanced the mint polka dot clothes she wears.

“Your back must’ve hurt, I’ll help put her back into her basket.”, Yoongi reached out his hands but you take a small step backwards.

“Ah no no it’s okay, I wanna hold her a little bit longer.”

Yoongi nod, turning his head away and scratched the back of his neck. Now what?

“I don’t want to put her down, but that doesn’t mean I want to stand all day.”, you laughed softly.

“Oh right, come sit at the sofa.”

As both of you sit down, the room fell into a deep silence again, only accompanied by soft breathings and Yoongi’s thumping heartbeat (he wish you didn’t inch closer, you’ll hear it for sure). Why is he so nervous again? Yeah yeah, his physics tutor is here, coming back after what Yoongi assumed wouldn’t and she’s holding his child. His!

“Are you gonna keep her?”

“Firstly I dunno it’s even a girl”

“Seriously Yoongi? Her clothes say it all.”

“Okay okay I don’t major in children like you.”

“It’s actually early childhood education you moron. But knowing her gender by her clothes is actually basic in life!”

“There’s unisex clothing”, Yoongi defended.

“She’s wearing a dress!”, You half yelled half-whispered and glanced downward to make sure the infant in your hand didn’t wake up from the commotion, but soon you heaved a sigh as the baby snuggled close to you, seeking warmth. That’s when it hits you that the room temperature could still be cold to the baby as their skin is still too thin.

“Hey, hand me a blanket or something. I think I saw one in the bag, the green one.”

Yoongi stand up and reached for the bag, which you left on the kitchen counter. He rummaged through it while walking back to you.

“And second, I actually don’t know if I could keep her”

He didn’t get a response, so he lifts up his head, to see you frowning on the sofa, face edged with worries while staring at his daughter. A sudden wave of warmth wash over him, but he quickly refocus on the task beforehand, his hand still rummage through the bag.

“It’s actually a towel.”

Yoongi showed you the green material in his hand, which truly, is a towel.

“It’s too small, won’t cover her feet though.”, your eyes travel upward to Yoongi’s body and stare maybe a bit too long for Yoongi’s liking.

He cleared his throat and speaks again, “Now what?”

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?!”

The baby in your hand stirred a little, whining before falling back to sleep. Once you were sure she was in dreamland again, you shoot a death glare to Yoongi.

“Sorry, but you, you want me to, take, take off my clothes?”

“The first layer, Yoongi. Your shirt is big enough to wrap her wholly.”

“O-oh”, Yoongi quickly wiggled himself out of his grey checkered print button-up shirt leaving him in his black plain shirt, and hands it to you.

“Spread it open, then put it here”, you patted a spot beside you on the sofa and Yoongi complied.

Once the shirt is layed on the sofa, you carefully put down the baby in the middle of the material, careful not to wake her up from her deep slumber. Suddenly, you froze midway and turn to him, wide eyes.

“Please say this is clean.”

Yoongi scoffed, “I just did laundry. If you come here two days ago I would've a different answer.”

“Sorry, its just...baby are sensitives to this kind of thing, we should be careful.” You then take the right side of the shirt before pulling it to the left side, slipping it under the baby’s small figure, working the same on the left side. Yoongi watched in silence as her daughter soon turned into a small bundle of burrito in his shirt, he nearly teared off, his eyes are watery just by the sight of it.

“You order a 32 weeks old smol size of burrito, sir?”, you reached out Yoongi’s daughter to him, hoping that he take it but Yoongi didn’t get the message though.

“How do you know she’s 32 weeks?”

“I assumed, infant isn’t supposed to open their eyes before reaching 26 weeks old. Since she did, that means her eyes are fully developed so she must be older. Judging from her cry, her voice is clear so that means older than 28 weeks. So yeah, 32 weeks.”

“Wow… you aren’t lying when you said kids are your passion.”, Yoongi comment quietly.

“I learnt about this Yoongi, even if you ask other students in my course, they’ll have the same answer as mine”, you retracted your hand, keeping the baby close to you.

“I’m gonna try you know”

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t know if I could keep her, I have, dare I say negative experience in this child-raising thing. But that doesn’t stop me from trying, she’s my child, by blood and I’ll keep her for my whole life.”

“Okay, sounds good enough to me”, you smiled, “Now come sit, or are you planning on standing forever?”

Yoongi slowly stride over, sitting beside you and smiled at his daughter. That’s when a question spring into your mind.

“What’s her name?”

“I dunno? It doesn’t say in the card.”

“Well, what do you want to name her then?”

“Me?”

“Yeah you, she’s your child, by blood and all”

Yoongi pondered on it for a moment before breaking out a small smile, eyes on his daughter.

“Inara…Min Inara”

“What does that mean? That doesn’t sound korean”

“It’s Arabic which means Light, the light of my life.”

“That’s…awfully sweet, I need to do a health checkup to find out if I got a diabetes hearing that.”

“What?”

“You know diabetes, the excessive glucose in blood? Cause your words just now is extremely sweet and sweetness could be associated with glucose which could cause diabetes so…”

“You know, when you explain it, you sound so much dumber than you already are.”

“Excuse me, I didn’t get a freaking five for my physics test like seriously…five? The hell did you do?”

“I wrote my name, stand up and submit the test.”

Your mouth dropped open, it was your first time asking the reason how he got a freaking five, and to be honest, you did not expect this level of unbothered. But at the same time, you shouldn’t be, he’s the great so talked Min Yoongi. Heart of stone, unemotional, hard to crack, but as someone who had been tutoring him for less than a year now, you could prove none of those gossips were true. Yoongi is…well, Yoongi. He’s unique in his own way, emits his own vibe and talk what he wants to say, not what people wants to hear. That was what you secretly admire about Min Yoongi, he shines in his own galaxy and one time, you wanted to be in his orbit though if you told him you were sure he’s gonna judge you silently, like all those sharp comeback and dagger stares.

“If I knew you were that helpless I would’ve said no.”

“Would you?”

Right, would you? You even goes all the way from the other side of the campus to the boys dormitories, almost trip at the stairs, run to girls dormitories to meet Kim Woyeon to ask her for some formulae powder because she once got pregnant and have a son for a while, you figured she would still have some left, then run back to Yoongi’s dorm to feed his daughter. You did so much already in the span of two hours, would you reject his offer way back in the past? You weren’t sure but sudden fear filled your thoughts. Why did you become so selfless when it comes to Yoongi? Why were you so submissive? No, it was an act of kindness to a friend. Min Yoongi is a friend. You were sure of it, but it scares you that you need to chant it over and over in your head as if you were convincing the fact to yourself.

“You could’ve save all the hustle and ask Namjoon instead. He’s one of the alphas too”

Yoongi snorted and lean back on the sofa, shaking his head in strong disagreement.

“You think I don’t? But I quit after like, two weeks or something.”

“Why?”

“Imagine going out to hang with your friends only to be held from sitting until you explain the definition of Newton’s first law, or solve a physics pop quiz right on the spot”, Yoongi grunt and closed his eyes. He seems traumatized by it.

“That hard?”

“You don’t know Kim Namjoon well enough, you think you do, but the truth is you don’t. You never been his student and I swear I hated going out more than before. I’m even scared to cross path with him during class hour. He’s a good guy, but without all his books and papers, yeah.”

You need to agree to the last part, that one is true.

“Different from you, you were hard, but not that extreme, I could tolerate you enough.”

“Oh really? I’m grateful to he-“

Yoongi cut in your words, “But I do consider cutting ties on the first day after your said gel pen is better than ball pen.”

You take advantage of his lack of self guard to hit him square on his upper arm, to which he grunted in response.

“How can you hold a baby and still hit me that hard?”

“I have two hands Yoongi.”

“Oh Y/n look”

You hold back whatever comeback you wanted to throw straight to his face about how gel pen is better, you almost pull out a 50 slides of presentation to support your words, but all of that was held back when you were met with a pair of the most beautiful eyes you ever seen. Those wide eyes shows that she had been listening to both you and Yoongi’s conversation for a long time. Meh, not that she’ll remember anyway, her memory storage part in her brain isn’t fully developed yet. Oh, you remembered that she’s staring at a stranger so you, for real this time hold out Inara to Yoongi, if he still didn’t take her, you swear you’ll throw the baby right at his face. Okay, no that was an extreme hyperbole.

“I…don’t know if I can hold her. I, I don’t know how.”

“It’s okay, I’ll guide. Right, so hold out your hand like this”

You tried to transfer the baby in your arms into Yoongi’s but she cried as soon as she’s halfway there. Yoongi retracted away, you could see how stress he look.

“Hey relax, okay? Baby can sense when you’re uncomfortable. Just take a deep breath”

Yoongi look deeply at you and inhale.

“And out. In, and out”

After seeing Yoongi calmed down a bit, you step closer, you socks covered feet meet his bare one.

“Okay so, an infant’s head is the heaviest part of their body because the head developed first in the womb other than other organs which develops at a slower rate, so support her head.”

Inara is safely transferred to Yoongi, his hand is under her head.

“Good, now this hand-“, you take Yoongi’s other hand that is supporting Inara’s waist awkwardly, “-hold here”, you drag it to hold Inara’s bottom as you speak.

“Bring her close to your chest, baby feels calm when they hear your heartbeat. Try it.”

Yoongi pull Inara closer to him, her head rested sideways on his chest and as that, Inara who had been wiggling around stopped.

“Is she dead? I killed her!”

“No Yoongi”, you let out a scoff along with a small laugh, “She’s relaxed. Look, you’re bonding. How does it feel?”

“It feels…calming”, you could swear you catch a faint smile appeared on Yoongi’s lips.

“Yeah, holding your child is a healing process, and actually a chance to get closer.”

“You must have got an ‘A+’ for this in your class.”

“Actually,”, you tucked in a stray strand of hair to the back of your ears, “I only learn this theoretically. I practice this umm, out of class hour.”

“Where?”

“At umm, at my place.”, you nervously fidget with your fingers.

“Your neighbourhood got a lot of kids?”

“You bet, tons of them, variety of age even.”

“Wow, I think you’re, you’re an incredible person, Y/n, just wanna put it out there.”

“Thanks Yoongi, and I think you need a tissue now.”

“Huh why-“

“Inara just barfed on your shirt.”, you giggled.

“Awh Inara! It was a black shirt!”

“Hold up, I’ll help.”

Yoongi watched you rushed into the kitchen to grab some paper towel in pure awe. Maybe, just maybe, receiving Inara out of nowhere is a blessing in disguise.

[qaraxuanzenith]

Steven Grant Rogers, zt”l

Steven Grant Rogers, zt”l: A life in three and a half parts

Note: I wrote this due to a conversation with @dawnfire360​​ about representation in media. Captain America was a character created by two Jews, modelled in a Jewish archetype (“little guy from Brooklyn”), and created to fulfill what was, at the time of his creation, largely a Jewish fantasy (punching Nazis in the early forties). The fact that he was established canonically as Irish Catholic (if I remember correctly) seems less a factor of authorial intent and more because they doubtless thought (and most likely correctly) that a Jewish superhero would not sell, and would not reach the audiences they wanted to reach. This fic reimagines him as the same guy, but also Jewish, and observant. Glossary and explanatory notes for the Hebrew and Jewish references are at the end of the document.

Prelude: Baruch atah Adonai, mechayeh ha’meitim.

They had explained to him, of course, the science of how he was still alive, how his augmented body and the extreme low temperatures of his resting place in the Arctic had conspired to create a natural cryogenic effect, freezing his body in the state it was while preserving his life as he slept.

He understood - some of it, and he believed the rest, but still, he could not stop himself from thinking about Olam HaBa, from thinking me’ayin l’t’chiyat ha’metim min ha’Torah, thinking v’rabim m’y’sheinei admat afar yakitzu, thinking there is no reward for the righteous or punishment for the wicked in this world, only in the world to come. In many real ways, this was, after all, his world to come.

There was a matzeiva for him. It took him some digging (not literally, thank goodness) to find out about it, and it took time for SHIELD to be convinced enough of his stable mental and physical health to let him go without a babysitter, and more time for him to make his way to Brooklyn unnoticed, but there it was, in the Jewish cemetery, right beside his parents’ graves. There was no body, of course, but he knew, already, that that was not uncommon, for those who had been lost in the war. And there it was, engraved in stone:

Steven Grant Rogers, z”l שלום מתן רוג'רז ת.נ.צ.ב.ה. July 4, 1918 - 1945 כ"ז תמוז ה' תרע"ח - ה' תש"ה

Somehow, seeing his grave made all of this more real, rooted him in the reality of 2011 in a way that none of the pamphlets, books, or museum exhibits had managed to do.

May his soul be bound up in the bundle of life. Perhaps it was that traditional prayer that had come true, that had bound him to life as he lay frozen in the Arctic. The thought made him smile.

It was a simple stone, just his name and approximate dates and the typical caption, and he wondered how they had scrounged up the money to pay for it, and on whose initiative, with both his parents already gone and even Bucky already lost to him in the chill mountains. But then, that was what a Chevra Kadisha was for, wasn’t it? To give burial rites to the orphaned soldier boys, fallen a long way from home.

The air was crisp, and a little cold, this time of year, but that thought warmed him, too, to realize that even at the bottom of the Arctic, with everyone he loved already dead before him, he had been included, held close, by the holy community - to remember that he was still, after everything, a part of a holy community.

***

Read in the Google Doc (with Hebrew and Jewish terms hyperlinked to their glossary entries), or

1: Peoplehood

This had been his fight. It was his fight, it was personal in a way that most of his tussles with bullies were not. That was his response whenever Bucky gently tried to dissuade him from trying again, after being turned away from the enlistment office for the dozenth time, “Really, Stevie, they’re not going to change their mind, and there’s plenty good you can do from here, instead of trying to get sent to the front with bad lungs and a bad back and none of the common sense you shoulda been born with.” He would point out that this was his fight, and there was nothing Bucky could say to that.

Because everyone knew what it was like for Jews in Germany in the thirties and forties. (No, they did not know, how could they know, they had no idea, not by a mile, not by a hundred miles, and by the time they did, it was late, so late, and they would ask themselves, how could they not have known.) But they knew that it was bad, and getting worse, and Steve couldn’t - he couldn’t just let that stand.

So of course he was eager to fight, not just to fight but to fight for something, and this was his fight, im ein ani li, mi li? Of course he jumped at the opportunity, offered by Avraham Erskine, to be something greater than himself, to be truly able to help his people, help everyone, im ani l’atzmi, mah ani?

There was no hesitation when he heard that Bucky’s unit was taken, only the immediate need for action, and the action to match it, and im lo achshav, eimatai?

They’d been together, their Commandos, for a year before they heard about the camps - it was almost that long before anyone heard about them, and then more time until the news trickled through army base to army base, reaching them when they returned from the field.

The thing about Bucky, a thing he loved about Bucky, was that he didn’t need to say it, to ask it. He returned to the tents, his stomach still churning and his mind reeling from the unthinkable images, the nauseating reports, and Sergeant Barnes was there, explaining that he had already spoken to their men, told them that this was something the Captain needed to do, and they with him, on no general’s orders, in much the same way as he had come for them.

When he had gone on his own for the 107th, against orders, he had returned to a commendation, and carte blanche to form his own team. When he came back from this, he received a reprimand, and grudging agreement to look the other way, just this once, and a warning not to do it again.

Of course, he thought, his mask a warm and ever-present reminder of the compromise it represented, in replacing the kipa he would normally have worn.

Of course they did it again - but not as often as any of them thought they should. They still had official missions to complete, important ones, that could not, should not, be neglected. And renegade rescue missions took time to arrange, and to plan; he couldn’t in good conscience lead his men in blind, so he had to rely on what information Peggy could drip to him, on where to find the next camp they would hit and what to expect there; and he had to wait for arrangements to be ready, usually visas or a plane or once, memorably, a boat, thanks to Howard, for getting the people to safety afterward, because these were not soldiers who could simply be reabsorbed into the nearest army base, and there was no use in rescuing them only to abandon them once more to the jaws of death.

And there were so many stragglers, each time - the very old, and the very young, and those simply too sick or too weak to flee unaided. And their ragged survivors needed Steve to translate and reassure them, needed every scrap of protection they could offer, until they reached whatever escape route Stark had magicked up, so that they could not send a soldier to go back and set charges and run out of range before detonation, which meant that they could not even blow the camps up when they left.

And there were so damn many of the camps.

When Steve made his descent, months later, into the Arctic, words of Torah rising unbidden to his lips, it was with a clear conscience, and only three regrets.

First: that he had promised Peggy a dance, and never delivered on it. Not that he desperately needed that dance, but he wanted to be a man who kept his word.

Second: that day with the train and the snow and the cliff. It had haunted him every day since, constantly revisiting it, asking himself what he should have done, how he could have done things differently, done things better, how he could change the outcome, so that he could stop Bucky from falling, could save him, could be the one to fall, instead.

Third: that there were so many camps that he had not gotten to, and so many that he had not gotten to in time. That he was only one man, and, with all his strengths and limitations, he had not prevented millions of his people’s lives from being snuffed out. This thought, especially, would stay with him when he awoke.

***

2: Ritual

The year is two thousand and eleven, and Steve Rogers wraps a set of 80-year-old tefillin on his arm and forehead - the same pair that he received for his Bar Mitzvah, back in a different time.

He had mixed feelings on getting them back, when Fury and Natasha took him to unlock an old SHIELD vault so that he could sift through and reclaim those of his belongings that had not already been snapped up by museums and heritage foundations.

Part of him was relieved to find them waiting for him, because it had sentimental value and because the thought had occurred to him, incongruously, that even in this new world’s economy, they would cost a lot of money to replace.

He was impressed that it was even still usable, almost as well-preserved as he was; apparently a sealed, oiled canister was for ritual items of leather and parchment what Arctic ice was for super-soldiers. It had knocked around at the bottom of his bag throughout the war, mostly unused, because a soldier could not be expected to keep his thoughts pure from distraction in wartime, and because, most mornings, there simply was no time. It was all he could do to say Brachot as he dressed, with maybe a rushed Amida afterward, without taking the time to painstakingly wind and unwind his tefillin.

He was a little guiltily thankful for the nondescript bag, in army khaki, that held them; no complicated questions from Fury as he leaned into the vault and slung it onto his shoulder, scooping up the rest of the dregs of his former life in a second, swift motion.

Mostly, though, there was a bitter sense of recognition. Every shred of what was left of him, after his plunge into the Arctic, had been picked and squabbled over by the government, by the museums, he had had to fight even to get Bucky’s dog tags back, which rightfully should have been sent straight to his sister, but this - this lay pristine and forgotten at the bottom of a vault.

And why not? he thought bitterly. Without it, he was the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all-American hero. And oh, he had seen and seethed at the encyclopedia articles, the exhibit captions about him, Steven Grant Rogers, born to European immigrants… “European immigrants,” when they - and he - would have been beaten up by the real Europeans for claiming the name for themselves, as though they would have abandoned their identities wilfully like that. Rogers’ father, who changed the name from the Russian Ruzhgies… and no, that wasn’t right either; it was from Yiddish, from Roiskies, but heaven forbid they say that of Captain America, better to imply a nonexistent Russian origin than to let him be a Jew.

A wave of outrage, of fury, rushed through him, that this important part of his identity had been swept under the rug for seventy years, denied, ignored, locked away like it was America’s dirty little secret.

He wondered if any of the biographers had found their way to the little matzeivah in Brooklyn, beside the stones for Sarah and Joseph Rogers, with his Hebrew name and of blessed memory, and decided to leave that detail out of their work; or if there was a book out there that revealed the truth of him; or if no one but he had ever made it that far.

The year is two thousand and eleven, and Steve Rogers wraps strands of leather around his arm that are almost as old as he is. He is Captain America, and he has always stood for America, for freedom, for the power of the individual - and he does, still - but he has always stood, too, for the holy words written in ink on the scraps of parchment contained within the little black boxes whose fraying leather straps he winds around his arm, whispering prayers to himself, and for all that they represent to him. He thinks that, maybe, it is time to share that with the world.

***

3: Homeland

The Rogers household had never emphasized any particular need to visit, or live in, the Promised Land - but then, there was no State of Israel when Steve was growing up in the twenties and thirties.

Oh, that had been a fascinating few hours of research and reading, as he supplemented his catch-up course on everything he’d slept through. Nat and Sam were great, really, at filling him in on all sorts of pop culture and scientific advancements, but they didn’t know every facet of him yet, and there were some things which if he wanted to know about them (and he did), he would have to seek them out himself.

It was his private reading project, modern Jewish and Israeli history, and in reading about Israel, Steve felt invigorated. Motivated. Filled with purpose, for the first time in so long. America didn’t need him the way it had seventy years ago; he had been relegated to being a symbol, shunted off to dance attendance on politicians in costume, like back in his USO days. Here, though, was somewhere that he could make a difference; he could do something, he could help people, he could…

...He could probably create an international incident, he realized, as the thought turned cold and soured, fracturing, perhaps permanently, the good terms of an allyship that had lasted for almost as long as he’d been frozen. And it would be the biggest Chillul Hashem, Captain America apparently defecting to fight for a foreign power; he would reinforce every nasty stereotype he’d come up against as a boy, particularly the doubt as to whether Jewish loyalties could ever be trusted.

He had chosen to become Captain America. It had fallen into his lap, a little, but he had chosen it; and he could only fight for another country if his government loaned him out, such as through the Avengers Initiative, or at least if the hearts of the American people were with him.

A visit, at least, he could manage, though by the time it came to fruition, that, too, had become another political sideshow, complete with presidential photo-op in front of the Kotel, Steve sweltering in full costume.

The president had a schedule to stick to, though, and Steve managed to stay longer, on his own, just a visitor walking the footsteps of his forefathers. Without the president glued to his side, he travelled out of costume; he wore a quiet button-down shirt and became practically invisible, and he bought - to his endless delight - a Captain America kipa. He wore it for the rest of the trip.

He visited holy sites, places of Biblical significance; he hiked in the North and dove deep, deep, deep in Eilat, because he could.

And he went to Yad VaShem, because he needed to see, needed to revisit this worst part of what he failed to fix during his war. He walked himself through the solemnity of it, through the images which were no less sickening with age, the stories that were somehow worse now that he knew the full extent of it.

But he ended his self-guided tour on a hopeful note, an uplifting note, because his feet took him to the wall dedicated to the Righteous Among the Nations, and he read through the lists and lists of names until he found a familiar set of nine names, beginning with ג’יימס “בקי” ביוחנן ברנס and continuing through all of his commandos. There, staring at a stretch of wall that notably did not list his name, was where Steve had felt the most seen in over seventy years, because whoever wrote these names here had known very well who they were and what they had done, and they had done enough research to know, for once, that שלום מתן רוג’רז had no place on a list of those “Among the Nations.”

Before he left, he quietly found a curator who both recognized who he was and was not overly impressed by him, and asked her to add one more name to that particular part of the list. Peggy’s and Howard’s roles in their unsanctioned missions had, by necessity, been kept secret, but enough time had passed, Steve thought ruefully, because he was tired of bitterness, that it wouldn’t count as treason anymore. He wondered what Sharon would think about accepting this posthumous honour on behalf of her aunt. He wondered what Tony would think, about not being called upon to accept it on behalf of his father, for the same reason that Steve had smiled not to see his own name on the list.

He left the monument to the dead he could not save, feeling if not uplifted, then at least satisfied with a job ably done, and he took himself for a run through the city, to shake off his last gloomy thoughts about the dead. He walked through David’s city all the way out to the ruins of Jehoiakim’s palace; from the Jewish Quarter to the site of an historic battle in 1948, history that he had slept through. He slowed to make his way through the shuk, buying impossibly cheap candies, dried fruits, nuts, pastries, falafel, to feed his superhuman body, as he fed his soul on the smells, the sights, the sounds of haggling and cheerful shouts - the scenes of his people, comfortable in their own skin, in their own home.

His return flight marked the first time he managed to sleep on an airplane since before he went down in the Arctic. About an hour before landing, he left his seat and joined the makeshift minyan near the back of the plane, and wrapped his eighty-year-old tefillin as he greeted a new day.

******

Glossary and explanatory notes:

zt”l - short for zecher tzadik l’vracha, “the righteous person of blessed memory” - written after the name of a very righteous deceased person. Sometimes pronounced “zatzal,” sometimes read aloud as “zecher tzadik l’vracha.”

Baruch atah Adonai, mechayeh ha’meitim. - Blessed are You, Lord, who revives the dead. From the Amida (see below), part of a longer prayer said three times a day in Jewish prayer.

Olam HaBa - The World to Come (as opposed to Olam HaZeh, This World), the term is Jewish texts for the heaven-like world that righteous people enter after death.

me’ayin l’t’chiyat ha’metim min ha’Torah - “Whence is [the source] for resurrection of the dead in the Torah?” - a quote from the Talmud, in a passage discussing Jewish beliefs about afterlife and the prayer quoted above.

v’rabim m’y’sheinei admat afar yakitzu - “and many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth will awaken” - quote from Daniel 12:2, appearing to foretell a resurrection of the dead and quoted in the Talmud as a proof-text for that idea

there is no reward for the righteous or punishment for the wicked in this world, only in the world to come. - another quote from the Talmud, reinforcing the concept of the World to Come (“Olam HaBa”) as a response to the problem of why good things happen to bad people and why bad things happen to good people.

Matzeiva - literally “pillar” in Hebrew; used to refer to a tombstone or similar memorial for the dead.

z”l - short for zichrono l’vracha, “of blessed memory” or “may his memory be for a blessing,” typically written after the name of a deceased person. Usually read aloud as “zichrono l’vracha,” sometimes pronounced as “zal.”

שלום מתן רוג'רז - Shalom Matan Rogers - written as Steve’s Hebrew name. Steve, though a common enough name in Jewish circles, has no direct Hebrew equivalent, so I got to play around with it. Shalom starts with the same letter, and I felt it was apropos for our weary super-soldier to have a name that means “Peace.” Matan is a Hebrew boys’ name that means “Gift,” so I felt it was a good equivalent to Grant. Rogers is transliterated (though see discussion of his last name below).

ת.נ.צ.ב.ה. - short for tehei nishmato tzrurah b’tzror ha’chayim, “May his soul be bound up in the bundle of life,” usually written on Jewish tombstones and occasionally in other contexts after the name of a deceased person.

כ"ז תמוז ה' תרע"ח - ה' תש"הa- 27 Tamuz, 5678 - 5705 - The Hebrew dates for Steve’s birthdate (yes, I looked up July 4, 1918 - note that the Hebrew calendar and the Gregorian calendar don’t match up, so 27 Tamuz is not the 4th of July every year; most years, Jewish!Steve would be celebrating his Hebrew and English birthdays on different days) and assumed year of death. Rather than research or guess a rough date for when he touched down in the Arctic, I decided that - probably like many people murdered in the Holocaust and soldiers who died fighting in WWII - whoever made his tombstone only put the year of death, since they didn’t have the information or resources to pinpoint the actual date of death.

May his soul be bound up in the bundle of life. - See above; Steve is reading and mentally translating this line from his tombstone.

Chevra Kadisha - Aramaic, literally “Holy community” - used to refer to the group of people, required in every shul/synagogue/Jewish community, who voluntarily see to the community’s dead. Typically this entails cleaning, dressing, and burying the body, which would not have been necessary in Steve’s case, as no body was (obviously) recovered; however, because he had no living relatives at the time of his reported death, it would also have fallen to them to take care of his tombstone and any prayers of memorial/mourning.

im ein ani li, mi li? - “If I am not for myself, who is for me?” - first third of a famous quote from Hillel (a first-century Jewish leader foundational in forming Judaism as we know it), found in the Mishna (text that is the precursor to the Talmud).

Avraham Erskine - using the Hebrew pronunciation of Abraham Erskine’s first name to emphasize the fact that it is a Jewish name, and this commonality would not be lost on Jewish!Steve

im ani l’atzmi, mah ani? - “If I am [only] for myself, what am I?” - second third of the famous quote from Hillel.

im lo achshav, eimatai? - “If not now, when?” - final third of the famous Hillel quote.

Kipa - small circular cloth head covering that observant Jewish men wear, often worn at all times. Can be worn in addition to, or substituted by, another head covering such as a hat or helmet.

words of Torah rising unbidden to his lips - this alludes to the precept, which Jewish children are taught from a young age, that one should say the first line of the Shma (an important prayer said twice daily and taken from the Torah, affirming one’s faith in a singular God and one’s connection to Jewish peoplehood) at the moment of one’s death. Although I also like to imagine that other Torah quotes would have been rising in Steve’s mind at the time, as well.

Tefillin - A Jewish ritual item, used by Jewish men over the age of thirteen. Tefillin is a plural noun, and they are often also referred to as a “set” or a “pair” of tefillin. It consists of two pieces, each with a black box of hardened leather containing pieces of parchment with specific passages from the Torah written on them, and black leather straps attached to the outside of the box. One piece is wrapped around the left arm, with the box positioned on the upper arm; the other piece loops around the head, with the box positioned on the forehead and the straps dangling down at the back of the neck. They are “wrapped” (the term commonly used for donning Tefillin) at the start of the morning prayers on a regular day, with certain blessings and verses said as one puts them on, and unwrapped at the end of the morning prayers. Tefillin are considered holy, and one is supposed to keep one’s thoughts pure and focused on prayer while wearing them (if a person needs to duck out during prayer to go to the bathroom, they must remove the Tefillin and put them back on when they return). They should also be handled respectfully, and with care, due to their holy status. Because of the requirements in making Tefillin (the leather parts must be made from the hide of a kosher animal, and the passages must be hand-written by a trained scribe, in special ink, on parchment made from the skin of a kosher animal), Tefillin are fairly expensive.

Bar Mitzvah - Aramaic, literally “a son of the commandments.” Refers to a Jewish boy’s 13th birthday (or the celebration of that birthday), at which point he becomes responsible for his own fulfilment of all the relevant commandments in Judaism. This is the age when an observant boy would receive his first set of Tefillin.

Brachot - literally, “blessings.” Used here (and commonly) to refer to Birkot HaShachar, “The Morning Blessings,” a set of blessings said at the beginning of morning prayers, and which can be said while getting dressed.

Amida - literally, “standing.” Name for an important prayer said in every Jewish prayer service (usually three times a day), so called because it is said while standing, with the feet together in one spot. (Also known as Shemonah Esrei, “Eighteen,” for the eighteen-or-so blessings that make up the core version of this prayer.)

Roiskies - I took some liberties here, because Rogers is not a common Jewish name. There is, however, a very historical trend of Jews with very Jewish-sounding names changing their names to very non-Jewish names, with a common first letter or sound, upon immigrating to the US, which is what I have to assume happened in the case of Jewish!Steve’s parents. Roskies / Roskes / Rosskies is a common enough Jewish name, and one with a close enough sound that Joseph might reasonably have changed his name from that to Rogers. Unfortunately, I have not been able to source the meaning of that name (if any Roskies know what their name means and want to help me out, I would welcome that). I added the i to make it the variant Roiskies because of my best guess as to the name’s origins - that the first part comes from the Yiddish rois, meaning pink or rose (see also: common Jewish names with that root such as Rosen, Rosenberg, and Rosenstein).

of blessed memory - see z”l above; Steve is remembering and mentally translating that text from his tombstone

Chillul Hashem - literally “Desecration of the Name [of God],” used to refer to any action that, when performed by a Jewish person, would make the Jewish God, Judaism, and/or the Jewish People as a whole look bad. Acts of Chillul Hashem are forbidden in Judaism.

the Kotel - literally “the Wall,” short for Kotel HaMa’aravi, the Western Wall (the still-standing western retaining wall around the area of the Jewish Temple that formerly stood on the Temple Mount).

a Captain America kipa - see above about what a kipa is. Captain America kipot (plural of kipa) do exist.

Yad VaShem - the Holocaust Memorial museum in Israel (its name is taken from a line in Isaiah, promising a lasting memorial for all the righteous who die without children to remember them; roughly, “yad vashem” means “a monument and a name”)

Righteous Among the Nations - a list maintained by Yad VaShem, of all the non-Jews who saved Jewish lives during the Holocaust. They give recognition to the honorees on the list (or their descendants) when new names come to light.

ג’יימס “בקי” ביוחנן ברנס - Hebrew transliteration of James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes

Shuk - market, here referring to the popular large open market in Jerusalem.

Minyan - literally quorum, referring to a group of 10 or more Jewish men for prayer, as many prayers are only said (in Orthodox circles) when a minimum quorum of 10 men are gathered together. Can also refer to the prayer service taking place when this quorum is gathered. On flights between Israel and North America in either direction, there are usually enough Orthodox Jewish men for a makeshift minyan to gather (preferably somewhere unobtrusive) for morning and/or evening prayers at the beginning/end of the flight (depending on the times of takeoff and landing at the origin and destination locations, respectively).

[incarnateirony]

S15 Spec/Discussion

So when the SPHT came out we all got to talking and I had some Thoughts(tm). Some of it is wildly speculatory but potential and interesting. I love the thinkie beans in my server. 

I love our little roundtable of speculation and meta that routinely crops up, sometimes I feel like we should record it and make a podcast.

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:34 PM

IM YELLING SO MUCH YELLING “you cant do this to the fans!” “i can do anything. im a writer.” FUCKING CHILLS

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:36 PM

Jared's evil smirk has murdered me

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:38 PM

yesssss

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:38 PM

So we have Sam in a white suit MoC

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:38 PM

btw chucks lame ending is hilarious

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:38 PM

The colt

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

THAT WAS A THIng

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:39 PM

G L O R I F I E D F A N B O Y

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

I came out of aladdin to that

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:39 PM

IM SCREAMING

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:39 PM

Adam and most likely Michael taking in a diner Talking

CastielYesterday at 9:39 PM

Psfuck what anybody says the new aladdin is amazing

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:39 PM

Scruffy endverse Dean

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

I jave never Ever Seen such masterful seaming of cartoonverse cgi To real actorsHoly fuck me

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:40 PM

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT ALADDIN RIGHT NOW

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:40 PM

LMAO

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

I CAN DO BOTH LOOK

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:40 PM

I AGREE ABOUT ALADDIN

CastielYesterday at 9:40 PM

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I WISH I WENT TO THAT SHIT HIGH

Leaf is a kittyYesterday at 9:41 PM

but JARED SMIRK IS MURDERING MEI CAN'T STOP LOOKING BACK AT THE VIDEO FOR IT

CastielYesterday at 9:41 PM

Yeah i intend to watch on pc when i canIm mobile rn

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:41 PM

And of course the crypt door being held shut with a screwdriver As direct14.10 parallel

CastielYesterday at 9:41 PM

Like we literally just left aladdin hence the yelling Yes yes Ive got him Im the cage Etc

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:42 PM

GlorifiedFanboy Is that not what I said friggin months ago?!

CastielYesterday at 9:42 PM

On brand a+ dean from whoever wrote that Ill guess Bobo or buckner For glorified fanboy line

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:43 PM

What? Do they read our tweets?

Charlie BreadbutteryYesterday at 9:43 PM

lol

CastielYesterday at 9:43 PM

Bobo reads mine a lot?

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:43 PM

I stg I heard that line and almost screamed

CastielYesterday at 9:43 PM

I never did upload his nerdy video to me in hindsight

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:44 PM

Interesting that they didn't use a single shot of Alex

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:44 PM

No AlexAt all

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:44 PM

So it's not gonna be just a hallucination with burnt out eyes No Billie either

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:45 PM

No empty

CastielYesterday at 9:45 PM

No its full on chuck villain framing its my sound of war vid with s15 footage dhdhdhd

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

Yeah well it all blended into inky black at the end But that's hardly conclusive

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:46 PM

True

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

Since that happens a lot in trailers

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:46 PM

Maybe that’s for later in the season Or Maybe it’s a big secret

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:46 PM

10 bucks says they abandoned the Cas deal And that's the hill I die on

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:47 PM

Bc that’s how they fight Chuck? They can’t abandon that already It’s too fresh

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

To me it read as a gateway to the Empty getting Jack

CastielYesterday at 9:48 PM

Placing bets now. Ep 1-3 is deancas tension over mary and jack and feeling distanced from the winchesters leaves eps 4 and 5. We know he works with sam at least briefly in 6. Deancas reunion in 7 midseason scheduled for 8 or 9. Deancas resolution then

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

Before they knew for sure

CastielYesterday at 9:48 PM

Midseason finale whatever theyre keeping in the door

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:48 PM

That it was their final season To possibly stretch the plot accordeon

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:49 PM

Maybe final battle is with the empty and not chuck

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:49 PM

But now they've lost the need for a middle man ie Cas Nah

CastielYesterday at 9:49 PM

Id need more than a promo trailer to figure out if resolving cas is midseason or endgame

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:49 PM

Is amara coming back?

CastielYesterday at 9:49 PM

Yes

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Dabb confirmed it's early

CastielYesterday at 9:50 PM

And deans weird old friend

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:50 PM

She wasn’t there either

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Yeah 15.02 I think Or 04? Very early

CastielYesterday at 9:50 PM

Its as much a mood piece as a trailer

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:50 PM

Was that Becky talking to Chuck?

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

Yes

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:51 PM

I think so

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

You cant do this to the fans

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

ITS GLORIOUS

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:51 PM

It sounded like her

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

It’s her

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

We knew she was coming back Well

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

Yea

CastielYesterday at 9:51 PM

Speculated educatedly

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

I’m so mad! I was just about to go to bed!

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:51 PM

When even the crazed fangirl looks sane by comparison

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

And they dropped this

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

Yeah I’ll never sleep now

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I HAVE TO

CastielYesterday at 9:52 PM

Like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

Nah I'll head to bed in a few

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

No. No sleep

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I’ve gotten no sleep the past three days

CastielYesterday at 9:52 PM

Points if they still frame it for a swipe at the bronlies like all the other becky jokes

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:52 PM

I find the fixation on the fan angle a bit weird

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:52 PM

Yaaaaassssss

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

It seemed framed that way to me Min

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:53 PM

All the bronly jokes pls

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

But maybe I’m just reading it with my own bias

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 9:53 PM

But it's only 2 pieces of Chuck dialogue so

CastielYesterday at 9:53 PM

Yeah

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 9:54 PM

And he’s a melodramatic fuck

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:54 PM

I’ll forever want to refer to him as “glorified fanboy” Put it on a shirt

CastielYesterday at 9:55 PM

God imagine chuck bringing back kevin as his prophet to take down his word as the gospel of winchester is designed to end only in being felled, and only by the glory of god. He cant finish off his own book to print the new gospel

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:56 PM

Here to say fuck you chuck

CastielYesterday at 9:57 PM

What if we big bounce and he dubs adam the new michael since we saw jack. Can convert humans to angels

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:57 PM

Megalomaniacal Michael?

CastielYesterday at 9:58 PM

Kicking down the castles in his own sandbox as revelations told before, before men found the new gospel of the glory of god. Revelations might not be a prophecy. It may be history.

Lissa JoYesterday at 9:59 PM

Interesting

CastielYesterday at 9:59 PM

Wildly speculatory and just playing but

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:00 PM

Oh the adam Michael idea

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:01 PM

I'm very glad about Chuck being in early episodes Adam is 100% gonna be Michael Cause all the summaries made it sound Like they weren't utilizing him

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:03 PM

It does sound like OG Michael is gonna be a real issue and it makes sense for it to be Adam

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:03 PM

CastielYesterday at 10:09 PM

WHICH THEY MYSTERIOUSLY PLUGGED AT THE END OF THE SEASON

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Yeah but he'd still be Adam and not Michael Just

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

if michael is useless to chuck as is, which he may or may not have been lying about MAKEA NEW

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Archangel Adam

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

MICHAEL YES

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:10 PM

Oh Doesn't fit with the pic above tho

CastielYesterday at 10:10 PM

Find another Eve. Oh look universal big bounce and I have a new mythology jazz hands Or better a Lilith Also this is literally unstoppable force immovable object logic if chuck can't destroy the human soulzapping the winchesters to death is just a stall game of exhausting futility they've proven they will inevitably doorkick down every afterlife or wherever they're cycled to what if there's like a hilariously extreme mystery spot where you see mini adventures out of whatever afterlife but eventually justtruncated to ridiculous extremes Chuck: -_-

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:18 PM

Like that's a given with all the scattered bits. Either Lucifer Sam and MoC Dean etc become big plot points Or they're part of Redux Mystery Spot

CastielYesterday at 10:18 PM

side eyes hidden mytharc uh

CastielYesterday at 10:18 PM

I really hope we didn't get the MOC Dean thing too close rip

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:19 PM

Why did you have to connect those two promo subplots for meW h y

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:20 PM

Also Cas next to that burnt up body I hope it isn't just Victim Of The Week

CastielYesterday at 10:20 PM

I'm wondering about the "arrogant betrayal" promo line on ep... 3 is it?

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

Yeah

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

Is it gonna be meaningful or is this like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

Nah

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

bringing back Sergei

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

PR vagueblog

CastielYesterday at 10:21 PM

from his Byzantium bullshit

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:21 PM

The BL ep is 15.02 tho

CastielYesterday at 10:22 PM

authors sometimes soak up impact of -- oh no

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:22 PM

What

CastielYesterday at 10:23 PM

okay so let's pretend say, bobo or whoever wanted to finish up buckleming's plot point, or at least partially since it's the tie up season, but they knew they had to write misha out for a few episodes and with deancas tensions driving Cas away already, throwing out a Going For Revenge That Will Backfire spin before storming out for a few eps

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:24 PM

But then it would be Dean not being able to forgive the "betrayal"It's gotta be something else Watch it be like

CastielYesterday at 10:24 PM

the betrayal vague blog is about sergei in that thing

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:24 PM

Kevin working for Chuck

CastielYesterday at 10:24 PM

it's the phrasing "arrogant" that catches me

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:25 PM

Most vague summaries hardly fit the actual plot points anyway It's just to sound mysterious

CastielYesterday at 10:25 PM

no but it would be easier to simply not apply an adjective "Castiel deals with a betrayal" is still vague

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:25 PM

Yeah but adjectives give oomph

CastielYesterday at 10:26 PM

arrogant is an odd idea for even the vague bloggiest vague blogger to tilt towards after skimming the content so I really doubt it's like kevin being forced to betray them or something like thatso unless it's about chuck himself, unlikely just too early for that level of RAAA

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:28 PM

Oh right didn't Misha say Cas struggles with this new Chuck reveal

CastielYesterday at 10:28 PM

well yeah thats kinda a duh

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:28 PM

I think the arrogant betrayal is in reference to Chuck

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:29 PM

So maybe it's just oddly phrasing that Yea

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:29 PM

It’s a kinda weird phrasing imo

CastielYesterday at 10:29 PM

like on the one hand cas knows Chuck isn't father of the year so I think on a personal level it's not surprising, it's more the existential level for him previously chuck was a shit dad that was just trying his best in a world far too easy to do his worst, even as god, thinking he was generally trying to be inherently good

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:30 PM

I hope Megatron comes back :)

CastielYesterday at 10:30 PM

that last scrap of faith is also kind of critically attached to his very existance because if god is evil and part of this cruel design what has his entire pre-winchester existence been, and even waxing and waning through it in his time with them

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:31 PM

Yeah I think deep down part of his core sense of self is the idea that he comes from the side of good

CastielYesterday at 10:31 PM

the fundamental loss of "god is good" is kinda quantifiably huger to him, whereas the humans more will have to grapple with "What is free will, did we ever have it"

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:31 PM

And this rips that away

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:32 PM

Unrelated but the promo sorta Nulls the early human Cas idea

CastielYesterday at 10:32 PM

yeah I noticed that, but it was odd

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Yeah I agree

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

i'm putting down at least foreshadowing then

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Unless they pulled all of the Misha footage From like ep 1 and 2

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

or chuck playing with the light switch for shits and giggles

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

He does still have that shotgun

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

we know cas has his coat back in like

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

Watch Cas come back from his sabbatical

CastielYesterday at 10:33 PM

idkwe've seen him with it back

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:33 PM

With his grace ripped out

CastielYesterday at 10:34 PM

put it in a karambit i mean what

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

Snort

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

NOT SURE MISHA CAN HANDLE THAT Like on a pure choreography level

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:34 PM

Are you suggesting Misha isnt grace itself?For shame

Dean WinchesterYesterday at 10:35 PM

Not at all COUGH He has a cat-like agility

Mary BADASS WinchesterYesterday at 10:35 PM

LIKE A CAT

CastielYesterday at 10:38 PM

KSJDFksjdf I think younger misha could have but knowing he's always at risk of blowing out his hip probably not so much now like I feel that limitation in my soul

GarthToday at 6:17 AM

Okay so I don't think Amara is a made up character. I think she is Chuck's sister for real (or whatever they claim as siblings) but he used his story to trap her. Help fuel his plot.

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:17 AM

Like to me personally the option of Amara being made up has the best potential for an IC Chuck plot twist Esp since I still hold the idea that he lied about the universe going splat with his death"Writers lie"/"I'm a writer, I can do anything"

GarthToday at 6:18 AM

Well he did admit he's a liar rubs hands together This is gonna be so much fun

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:19 AM

GOD THAT LINE THO

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:19 AM

And that would be a Dabb level retroactive canon ramification Which is sorta his thing

GarthToday at 6:19 AM

Mwahahahaha and he said said to Becky while she went on about "you can't do this to the fans!"

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:19 AM

they make sense at least

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:20 AM

But I'm not sure they wanna go the route of Stripping a female character of her entire agency for male pleasure But I don't see a whole lot of options on how they take Amara out of the playing field Unless Chuck deadass eats her for the joint Godhead

GarthToday at 6:21 AM

Honestly he just might

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:22 AM

But that's like DBZ power level bullshit

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:26 AM

AU!Dean who's a baddy pls

GarthToday at 6:26 AM

Damn trailer successfully tripping us up

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:27 AM

Deadass just have pull the jackass from the 5.04 reality Maybe that's why Lucifer Sam is tied to a chair as well Like Chuck just put him in white clothes to paint a big target for endverse!Dean And it's actually just Sam

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:28 AM

yeah that was my thought too

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:28 AM

BUT THAT IS THE SORTA SPECC THAT'S USUALLY TOO VAGUE FOR ME ALREADY And was that Singer Salvage?

GarthToday at 6:28 AM

We're just throwing things out there and laughing It looked like it might be

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:29 AM

BEN JUST LET LOOSE BUD ITS OK

GarthToday at 6:29 AM

But the new building is throwing it off

Charlie BreadbutteryToday at 6:29 AM

THE CRACKIEST SPEC THE BETTER

GarthToday at 6:29 AM

Something else could have been built thoIt's been yrs

Dean WinchesterToday at 6:29 AM

LOOK MY WHOLE THING IS DOING ANALYSES BY GATHERING EVIDENCE THAT SUPPORTS MY ARGUMENT IT'S SEARED INTO MY BRAIN More cage imagery

[prorevenge]

Coworker thinks he knows better than me, but forgets policy.

This is a long post as it requires a decent back story. If you’re killing time on the toilet or have a spare minute or two give it a read. I hope this fits here, if not please direct me to where it should be.

Backstory: I worked for a large private training company who also owned 3 other small ‘sister’ companies. This meant that while the 3 sister companies still traded as themselves, they were owned & operated higher up by my company and would eventually become a part of our company as they were disintegrated.

As a training consultant, I looked after our largest client. I took care of all inductions, formal training and accredited training of the students from this client and because of my strong relationship with our client they didn’t like anyone else dealing with them.

I was also quite new to the training industry, but not new to the field I was teaching- hospitality. I had been working in hospitality for years prior to landing this job so I had years of relevant on the job experience from almost every level, and when I started working for the training company I quickly (in 1 year) completed my accredited training to be able to teach, so all of the knowledge I had learnt in terms of compliance along with my employee contract and handbook were still fresh in my mind. This will be relevant later.

Because the client I looked after served alcohol, all of the staff working for them needed to have their certificate to be able to serve alcohol in the restaurant. While our company itself weren’t accredited to be able to provide this qualification, one of our sister companies was. I had 22 students needing to either complete or update their Qual and as mine was due to expire soon my manager wanted me to attend the session also. It was on a Saturday (my day off) but it was a free qualification, I would get to do it alongside my students and my manager said I could have the Monday off to make up for my time. I was more than happy to attend.

Important to add: one of the restaurants I trained in had a meeting room upstairs. I had only been up there about 3 times because I always held my one on one sessions in the restaurant seating as it was easier to observe students and they were also able to quickly jump back into work if it were busy. Not one person from my company or the sister company had asked me about the room upstairs.

As a trainer, it is our job to inspect any site that we will be holding a training session in at least 1 day (no more than 1 week) prior to ensure that a venue is appropriate and adheres to safety standards. If we deem it unsafe, we have to report it and cannot hold a session unless the safety concerns can be rectified or we can gain approval for a different venue. This is not only legally part of our job, but it is written into our contracts.

All 23 of us turn up at the store at 8.45am as the session was due to start at 9. I made sure that everyone knew to be prompt as the session was due to run until 4pm and a lot of people had shifts to start after the course and I had a 2 hour drive home.

The trainer comes downstairs and I introduce myself. He then starts ranting about how the room upstairs isn’t safe to hold the session in. The first thing I asked was didn’t you come and do a safety check of the venue prior to today like you’re supposed to? He says no, he didn’t have time and now he’s annoyed because he has to cancel the session. I explain that this is extremely unacceptable and that I am not happy with him at all because he knows he is supposed to do a check before the day of the session, and that not only have I traveled 2 hours on my day off for this but I had 22 students (all from different stores I should add) who had to have their shifts and rosters made to work around this session. I explained to him why this was extremely unprofessional on his part and he scoffed at me now telling me off because he’s been doing this job longer than I’ve been alive and I know nothing.

I decided to do a check of the room before calling my manager to explain all of this to her, while the trainer was coping an ear full from the restaurant manager. After completing my safety check I also deemed the room to be unsafe to hold a session, I came downstairs and spoke to the RM and gave him my reports on the hazards and what needed to be fixed before any of my students (meaning his entire staff) could be in that room. I then went to call my manager to explain the situation when the dickhead trainer (who I will refer to as DH from now on) came running in saying he had found another room available at a hotel down the road. He told us where to go and to give him 15 minutes to set up the room. It was already 9.30am by this stage, so I knew by the time we started we would be running 1 hour behind. I explained the time issue to the DH but he assured me he would move through content faster so we wouldn’t run late. He left to go and set up the room & I called my boss to explain it all.

She was fuming especially because he hadn’t bothered to contact her about any of the issues or to get authorization to book another room but told me to call her after the session because after all the fuss she wasn’t going to pull the pin on the client and ruin the day more.

The session started at 10.15am, and it was horrible. The DH was so out of touch I couldn’t believe he had been doing the job for so long. He took so long to talk about anything, refused to take questions, tried to relate personal stories to the content that made no sense, on 3 separate occasions told the room he was smarter than we’ll ever be and that we might think we know more than him but we don’t. He told a 30 min story about a car accident his daughter had 2 years ago and rambled for so damn long that by the lunch break at 12.30 we had gotten through 4 pages of content out of 230. My students were freaking out about the timing and were clearly frustrated by the DH. I was so frustrated myself and embarrassed that this guy was representing my company. I went back to the room early to ask him to move along faster with the content so we could get to the test on time. He told me the test would take an hour, so I told him it would need to be taken no later than 3pm and that he would need to keep his content relevant to the test so we could all get out on time. He obliged.

Well by 2.45pm i was more pissed than ever. I demanded that he let us have 15 minutes of reading time before we started the test because we were only up to page 34 in the book and we didn’t have time to listen to his stories. He argued with me telling me that he would fail me if I kept speaking back to him. I tried explaining respectfully over and over what the issues were but he wouldn’t have a bar if it. He told me he would fail me no matter what my score on the test was because of my attitude. I walked out and my students sat in silence. I called my boss, explained everything to her and she told me to put him on the phone immediately. I walked back in, gave him the phone and tried to calm my students while he went outside on the phone.

He came back in 5 minutes later and told us it was time to take the test. I don’t know what was said on the phone.

Most of us that were just doing a refresher answered very quickly, the rest took a little longer but everyone was done within 40 minutes. When it was time to hand them in, all of the students started panicking that they wouldn’t pass because DH was a jerk. He wanted them to hand him their test while he graded it in front of them. This was not allowed. After to many people had the same concerns, I told DH that I wanted him to mark the tests now while we waited and I collected everyone’s papers and put them in a pile for him to mark. Because he wasn’t familiar with anyone’s names, he now couldn’t be biased when marking.

When the day was over everyone left feeling pretty flat and disappointed in how the day had gone. I was so embarrassed for my company and to be honest I was fuming at this ignorant idiot. I told my students I would handle it and to enjoy their weekends.

I knew DH had violated a lot of policies but one thing stuck in my mind. He didn’t get approval for the room hire, and I knew what that meant and I had been holding onto that information the whole day. I didn’t remind him of the policy because he was a dick and from the moment he booked the room, I thought to myself I might not be able to fire him or reprimand him personally, but I can sure make sure he pays. Literally.

I got in my car and called my boss. I explained everything to her, and she requested I send her a detailed email when I get home. I got home, wrote the email in great detail with reference to policies in our contracts and handbook that had been violated and sent it off.

I come in on Monday and have a meeting with my training manager, state manager and the GM of our company was conferenced in as was the state manager for the client. I was praised for how I handled the situation, how I supported my students and followed policy and I was given a bonus (of the cash kind) for my efforts and dedication to the company.

As for DH, well not only was he reemed for his behaviors, his Unprofessionalism and for not following policy in regards to room checking, he also forgot one little thing when booking that hotel room for the session. He forgot something I didn’t forget, and something that was detailed in my email to my manager. Something that states in our employee contracts, a contract that he has signed.

(I’m paraphrasing here I can’t remember word for word) If a consultant books a room of value greater than $300 for training purposes, it must be approved in writing by the training manager (or the state manager in her absence) before booking confirmation can occur. Failure to gain written approval will result in the employee not being reimbursed for the room.

Well unlucky for DH that room cost $550 because of the last minute booking (and it was a nice hotel i might add). That was $550 out of his pocket that he was not reimbursed for because he didn’t gain even verbal approval from management to book the room, not to mention he needed it in writing anyway.

Our client also requested that DH never be allowed to be involved with their business again.

Because DH had done so many things wrong both ethically and professionally like refusing me a grade even if I passed in front of 22 witnesses, trying to grade tests in front of the student who completed it, not completing a safety check prior to the session, booking a room without approval and the terrible student and client feedback, he was also let go from the company.

So after a terrible day, DH not only no longer had a job but was $550 out of pocket. Goes to show that just because you’ve been doing a job longer than someone doesn’t mean you’re doing it right.

TLDR: Coworker thinks he’s better than me because he’s been doing the job longer. Turns out he’s an idiot and now out of pocket $550 and a job.

(source) (story by scooter-magee)

[oncearoundthegarrison-blog]

London to Lundy Part 1

5 months sounds like a long time, but when you’ve started a new job in a completely different industry, it flies by. New colleagues, new commute, new schedule, new maze-like museum building that took at least a month to get used to. Even new vocabulary. 

I felt like I was desperately treading water, slowly drowning in a sea of to-dos. It finally took the Christmas period, when the museum was closed, most colleagues and external contacts had taken holidays and my telephone and inbox fell quiet, that I had a moment to realise... I have 13 days of annual leave to use up before the end of the financial year.

My husband’s birthday is in March, so I thought we could go somewhere together to celebrate, as we had been doing the last few years. The thing is, my husband works in a small company, a team of 3, in fact. Unfortunately, the other 2 also have their birthdays in March, so, being the most junior, he felt he couldn’t take a week off, especially because they were planning a work trip around that time too.

“You should go on a yoga retreat by yourself.” he suggested. As if I wanted to pay hundreds of pounds to go and spend days stretching with strangers, some of whom were guaranteed to be a little too ‘woo-woo’ for my taste (no offence). 

I decided I wanted to do something that was ‘worthwhile’ with my time. After hours researching expensive (and scammy) conservation holidays, scrolling through WorkAways and WWOOFing opportunities, I somehow landed on the jackpot; a National Trust working holiday on Lundy, a three mile long, half mile wide island off the coast of North Devon.

Having hastily signed up and gained a place, I set to work on the dreaded getting-there logistics. The first thing was already ticked off the list. The only way of getting from the Devon coast onto Lundy Island at that time of the year is by Helicopter. With that booked, I looked into getting from London to Devon and back. 

The autumn before, I had bought my first car. It’s a fully electric Nissan Leaf. Using it largely for the weekly shop and commuting to work (15 minutes if the traffic is nice, 1 hour if it’s the usual), it’s the perfect car for pootling around the city and suburbs, where an electric charger is always close to hand. We’d done the odd 2 hour drives, but the route planning, and adding 30 mins per charge stop, the anxiety of ‘what if the charger we are heading towards is out of order’ was quite stressful, so a solo drive down to Devon seemed a foolhardy concept.

But, the more I tried to arrange the public transport, the more complicated things got. First off, the nearest train station is 25 miles away, and you need to get on a bus for an hour even to get close to the helipad. Not only that but you had to get there by 10am latest, so unless you wanted to leave London at crazy o’clock, you had to arrive the night before and find accommodation. On top of that, on the way back, you have no idea what time your helicopter flight is. “Sometime between 11 and 3pm, and it depends on the weather, you could be delayed to later in the afternoon or even the next day!” So booking a train for the way back was a gamble. Driving to Devon in my electric car started to look like a more attractive, at least simpler, concept.

I’m not what you call a confident driver, and some past long distance drives had been very stressful. It’s hard for me to forget that I could kill myself or anyone else by making a silly mistake. And I make plenty of those in my everyday life. What if I don’t plan well and I run out of charge on my car? The prospect of driving alone, for four hours, which would probably include at least 4 charges, was terrifying. Also, if I want to arrive at the heliport at 9:30am, then I would need to leave at 5:30am, but add on 4 x 30 minute charges is 3:30am, and maybe I should add an extra hour in case I take the wrong turning or there is traffic or a diversion... well that’s crazy o’clock. So I decided to break up the journey by stopping off at my uncle’s in Bristol.

The week before setting off, I made sure to check and double check the route on the Zap-Map app, which shows you the locations of all the EV chargers. I read reviews of each charger, making sure it was used recently and recorded as having a successful charge. I made sure I knew the locations of at least 2 other chargers near the one I actually planned to charge at, in case that one was occupied or faulty. 

I wrote out the addresses of each charger, in case I lost my phone. I packed a portable power bank for my phone, in case it ran out of battery. I found out what numbers I need to call if I break down or run out of charge, or have an accident (yeah OK I should’ve known those already). Some chargers require you to start the charge using your mobile phone... but what if you didn’t have enough reception? I drove my husband crazy with my fretting and stressing. I made sure I had enough car snacks and a good playlist.

Then the day finally came. I left for Bristol around 9.00am. It was a bright sunny day and I left in high spirits, onto the M4. Forty minutes later, dirty black clouds appear and it starts to properly pour. The roads were not too busy but there was a ropey 15 minutes of very poor visibility, the spray from the other cars and lorries obscuring the road like a thick fog. My heart pumping, I was very glad to arrive at my first charge stop at a service station just after 10am.

There, I struck up a conversation with a fellow Nissan Leaf driver, and I asked him if he’d heard the rumour that you shouldn’t charge your car up to 100% on one of the rapid chargers (there are a few different charge speeds, you see). It’s something I was told by the customer services person when I rang up the helpline on a day a charger refused to stop charging (really reassuring). The man looked at me doubtingly and said that he hadn’t. When he left, I googled it and it really does seem to be the case that it damages your battery. I hope he looked it up later as well. I had a hot chocolate in the Starbucks, charged my phone and bought some gloves, as I forgot to pack mine. Feeling panicked about damaging the battery, I headed off at 82% charged.

Luckily, the closer I got to Bristol and my uncle’s flat, the lower the speed limit, the more traffic there was. I say lucky because driving in those circumstances uses up much less charge than going 70mph down the motorway. By 11:40 I have arrived at my final charge stop, a Bannatyne Health Club just round the corner from my final destination. I was even more happy to see that it was a simple plug in, tap your contactless card and charge jobby. You’d think that’s how all chargers are, but no. EV chargers are run by different providers, I have no less than 5 different apps on my phone plus a physical tap card, and there’s still some chargers where I have to spend ages registering on a website in order to start a charge. Mental.

I go into the health club and explain I’m not a member but would like to sit in the cafe while my car charges. I was a bit worried they would turn me away, but, just as my Zap-Map colleagues had reassured me, they asked me to sign in to a guest book and let me in. I order a tea and settle down for 20 minutes. In hindsight, during my journey to Devon and back, I think I spent almost the same amount of money on beverages and nibbles waiting for the car to charge as for the charge itself!

Anyway, all in all a smooth journey to Bristol, and I get to my uncle’s around 12:15, just in time for lunch. After a lovely afternoon taking in the sights of Bristol (managed to catch the excellent Wildlife Photography of The Year 2019 exhibition at M Shed, see below for the fun image of a shocked Himalayan marmot that won the Grand Title) and catching up with a friend over a quick drink in the evening, I go to bed early, ready for an early start in the morning.

[marudeinu]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER.

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

tagged by: no one, i snagged it from @fearfcrged​ tagging: be gay. do crime  

1. FIRST NAME: I still need to get it legally changed, but Jae-Seung 2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: I have a natural resistance to certain anesthetics? I always wake up WAY too early and they keep having to add more until they get scared I’m gonna OD. When they tried putting me in a ‘Twilight’ state during extraction of my wisdom teeth, they could only get halfway through the procedure before they had to stop. The oral surgeon I was referred to just knocked me out entirely and it went fine. This understandably makes me really nervous about needing any major surgery in the future... 3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON: Uhh... Usually stuff like their eyes? I also LOVE toned and/or veiny forearms, idek why. Muscular AND veiny? HUBBA HUBBA. But soft is also great, I do love a person that actually like, looks like they enjoy food like I do. 4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF: Soon dubu jiggae... omg. I eat that shit no matter what time of year it is, always boiling lava hot. And Boba Tea. And like, breakfast sandwiches. 5. A FOOD YOU HATE: Jellyfish and sea cucumber, the texture bothers me greatly 6. GUILTY PLEASURE: Buying stuff for my main on FFXIV...  7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN: pajama or sweat pants and a tank top 8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS: Serious, but I’m definitely not in any hurry atm. Monchichi is my girlfriend, all I need is my cat to spoil and lavish affection on. 9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: I think I might have reached out to my birth family sooner, re-learned my native language sooner, just... been more interested in reclaiming my heritage and identity a LOT sooner than now. I mean, there are other things I kinda wish I had done, but I also don’t believe they would have changed the outcome? But maybe how I felt about trying wouldn’t have been so... regrettable.  10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: I am affectionate in that I’ll verbally support you and genuinely talk about what I love about you and will go out of my way to help and buy/make you thoughtful things. Physical affection seems to be an area I’m still very awkward at and my own discomfort with being touched doesn’t help that I don’t especially think about it mattering so much to other people. 11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: I’m going to agree with Ray and say The Hunchback of Notre Dame! I also SUPER loved Into the Spider-Verse? And The Last Unicorn, OMG- AMAZING ANIMATED MOVIE. 12. FAVORITE BOOK: The First Law Trilogy by Joe Abercrombie 13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: Maybe a tiger or snow leopard? Cheetahs are VERY nice, as well. I guess they also wouldn’t be so much like PETS and more “a wild animal who is also my friend” since I would hate to keep them in captivity. So whenever I go out into their territory, they remember me as a human they can trust and want to spend time playing or relaxing with me. 14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS: Booster Gold/Bruce Banner (only the RP portrayals that Turk and I wrote tho), Soriku, Todoiideku, Pullo/Vorenus, Taiga Saejima/Majima Goro 15. PIE OR CAKE: Cake. 16. FAVORITE SCENT: “Wasabi”, it’s a soap I use that smells like mint, lime, eucalyptus, and ginger. Also, Sugar Lychee is an AMAZING scent. Burberry Brit Sheer is nice sweet, but SPICAY. Also Candy by Prada. 17. CELEBRITY CRUSH: Robert Downey Jr., Salma Hayek, Bryce Dallas Howard, Choi Min Soo, Mads Mikkelsen 18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO: ALSO, EVERYWHERE. But my big ones would have to be Italy, China (again), Japan, Thailand, and back home to Korea.  19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT: Introvert 20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY: No, I was raised on horror movies and am not easily spooked, so I kind of am ATTRACTED to the possibility of actually being scared. But I also am a wuss when I truly believe there is a hostile supernatural presence around me, like I will be the first one to admit I’d run and pee myself. 21. IPHONE OR ANDROID: Android, I just... don’t like Apple anymore as a company.  22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: So many... 24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: Help my parents finally retire, get all my dental work done, TRAVEL, buy a huge house where all of my friends can come visit me and have a smaller manse for each cat I own (priorities). 25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE: DC movie Joker iterations, Griffith from Berserk, Tyler Durden from Fight Club, canon Bkg from BNHA, The Comedian from Watchmen. 26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: ATLA/TLOK, Joss Whedon’s Firefly, Harry Potter, uh... I’m sure there are others but I can’t think of them right now.

[paralleljulieverse]

G’day Gertie: Star! debuts Down Under  

After its global premiere in London and subsequent release to select international markets such as Japan, the Julie Andrews mega-musical Star! made its way to Australia in early-October 1968, fifty years ago this week. Release patterns for films in this era could be a little idiosyncratic, and the Australian release of Star! was no exception. The film was treated to two lavish “preview” premieres in Sydney and Melbourne on October 4 and 8, respectively, but didn’t open to the general public till October 24 with a premiere roadshow engagement at Melbourne’s Paris Theatre. Even more strangely, Melbourne was the only Australian city to screen Star! for the first six months. The film didn’t open in Sydney till 23 May 1969 with other Australian cities to follow.*

The three previous Julie Andrews film musicals –– Mary Poppins, The Sound of Music, and Thoroughly Modern Millie –– had all been major hits in Australia with Millie and Music still in theatrical release when Star! opened in late-1968. In point of fact, The Sound of Music enjoyed longer roadshow runs in Australia than anywhere else in the world: 181 weeks in Sydney (140 at the Mayfair before transferring to the Paris for a further 41 weeks), and 178 weeks in Melbourne (140 at the Paris, then transferring to the Esquire for a final 38 week run). By 1968, it was estimated that just under half the national population had seen The Sound of Music with more to come as the film entered suburban and regional release (Dale: 15; Keavney: 4-5).

As a result, Twentieth Century-Fox had high hopes Star! would do well in Australia and sent director Robert Wise on a special PR trip to the country to help launch the film. Accompanied by his wife, Patricia, Wise touched down in Sydney on 31 September 1968 where he was treated to a round of civic and industry receptions before officiating at a special gala invitation-only premiere of Star! on October 4 at Sydney’s Mayfair Theatre, home to The Sound of Music for so many years  (“New Boom”: 18). The following week, Wise flew on to Melbourne for the second Australian premiere at the Paris Theatre, another Sound of Music alma mater, on October 8. While in Melbourne, Wise gave a host of press interviews and even helped the Lord Mayor lay a plaque for a new $4-million cinema complex in the city (Messer: 8; see also, Bennett: 14; Musgrove: 2; Veitch: 18).

As with the UK response, Australian critical reception of Star! was generally very positive. In Melbourne, Howard Palmer of The Sun wrote:

“Star! the Julie Andrews epic is indeed one of those films that a critic sees with relief, because he can let his his hair down and quite safely say it is wonderful in every way...Wise has put theatre on the screen better than anyone else before him...Julie Andrews gives the drama of the Lawrence love affairs so well...Add to this the many comic scenes of her early career....and you have a complete actress...It’s a wonderful film not to be missed” (27).

Alec Martin of the Melbourne Truth was equally enthusiastic:

“[I]f Gertrude Lawrence was alive today she would be the first to whistle and  stamp her feet at...Miss Andrews’ brilliant performance in Star!...Miss Andrews sheds her wholesome Mary Poppins and Sound of Music image to play the glamorous, temperamental Gertrude Lawrence with perfection....Star! will be a box-office success, that’s for sure” (39). 

Ronald Conway of Melbourne’s The Advocate declared Star! “[a]n agreeable, civilised musical...Julie Andrews sings and acts splendidly and it is a relief to see her in something other than Sound of Music which lasted at the Paris for ever so long...A handsome production to be enjoyed by patrons of all ages” (20). While Kay Mealun of The Australian Women’s Weekly gushed, “I found it rich and big and happy–– could have sat it through, three hours and all, all over again right away” (56). 

Not all Australian reviews of Star! were as unreservedly laudatory, though even naysayers conceded the film had charm. Colin Bennett of The Age wrote that Star! “is well set in theatreland and reproduces...a series of splendid old favourites performed to perfection by Julie Andrews who looks fabulous and sings beautifully...But [she] lacks the bite of a Gertrude Lawrence. She is too fundamentally ‘nice’ and tasteful and efficient to be really insolent or bitchy” (6). 

In a similar vein, Valda Marshall of The Sun Herald wrote: 

“Star! is like an unrealised and long-forgotten musical script of the 30s...a conglomeration of vaudeville numbers, revue material and musical acts...It lacks a central sustaining interest [and] the star herself is without a unified character...Julie Andrews is...in top form. Her voice is as sure and strong as ever. Her acting still has the same unabashed directness and warmth. But the spark of mischievousness and spontaneity are missing” (87).

Charles Higham of the Sydney Morning Herald –– who summarily titled his mixed review, “Julie glitters but she isn’t Gertie Lawrence” –– declared Star!  “a carefully made picture...with fine dramatic moments [but] there is something tame and bloodless about it...Julie Andrews in the title role...brings a brittle professionalism and impeccable coldness to a part that demanded vulnerability, anguish, a maddening neurotic edge. Impossible to imagine this athlete of the musical screen missing an appointment or failing to pay a bill, falling hopelessly and foolishly in love or singing out of tune” (6). Still, Higham mused in another column, “[o]ne hopes Sydney audiences will respond warmly to this very well-made film” (Higham: 19).  

And, for the most part, Australian audiences did respond with comparative warmth to Star!. While the film didn’t score anywhere near the record-breaking success of The Sound of Music, it enjoyed respectable theatrical runs, playing in roadshow release in Melbourne for just under six months (23 weeks from 24 October 1968-26 March 1969) and in Sydney for five months (20 weeks from 23 May 1969-9 October 1969), two of the longest roadshow runs of Star! anywhere outside London (Davies: 198. 206; Louden: 6). 

Star! also went on to a fairly solid theatrical after-life in Australia. The film avoided the debacle of post-release editing that occurred in North America and the full roadshow print screened in residual first release in suburban and regional Australian markets well into the early-70s. Star! even ran as a 70mm double-feature with Hello Dolly at Sydney’s Village Cinema City in late-1974. The film continued to pop up intermittently in subsequent years in repertory screenings. It played several times throughout the 1970s and 80s at Sydney’s Ritz and Mandarin cinemas. The National Library in Canberra hosted a special archival screening of Star! in March 1980, and the film was given a lavish one-week showcase season at Melbourne’s Astor Theatre in November 1998 to celebrate its 30th anniversary.

Star! was also a frequent feature on Australian TV screens. It made its national small screen debut as the Sunday Night Movie of the Week in October 1973 and was rebroadcast every few years thereafter: 1975, 1979, 1980, 1981, 1986 and 1989. As far as can be ascertained, the first two broadcasts were edited for running time, but most later broadcasts appear to have been the 176 min. roadshow release.

Notes:

* In a sign of the times, the delay of the Sydney release of Star! was due to the unexpected success of The Graduate which had been booked in to the Mayfair, Sydney’s “home” of Todd-AO roadshows. The theatre’s previous roadshow offering, Doctor Dolittle, closed earlier than anticipated and The Graduate was scheduled as a “filler” –– it ended up running at the Mayfair for 11 months (Louden, 6).

Sources:

Bennett, Colin. “Box Office Wisdom.” The Age Saturday Magazine. 5 October 1968: 14.

________. “New Films: Star.” The Age. 28 October 1968: 6.

Bishop, Barbara. “Julie Misses the Point.” The Sun. 25 October 1968: 14.

Conway, Ronald. “Star.” The Advocate. 31 October 1968: 20.

Dale, David. “The Tribal Mind: What Australians Love the Most.” The Sydney Morning Herald. 12 February 1999: 15.

Davies, Keith. 50 Years of Cinema and Movie’s in Melbourne’s CBD (1940 – 1989). Melbourne: (n.p.), 2016.

“Films on TV.” The Age Green Guide. 21 December 1978: 8.

Higham, Charles. “Star-Maker.” The Sydney Morning Herald. 5 October 1968: 18.

________. “Turmoil in Film City.” The Sydney Morning Herald. 24 May 1969: 19.

________. “Julie Glitters but she is not Gertrude Lawrence.” The Sydney Morning Herald. 26 May 1969: 6.

________. “Films like Mother Used to Cry Over.” The Sydney Morning Herald. 21 June 1969: 17.

Keavney, Kay. “‘The Sound of Music’ Greatest Film Bonanza.” The Australian Women’s Weekly. 36: 1, 5 June 1968: 4-5.

Louden, Doug. Sydney in 70mm. Sydney: (n.p.), 2016. 

MacDonald, Dougal. “Julie Never Stops Being Julie.” The Canberra Times. 28 September 1969: 30.

Marshall, Valda. “It’s a Happening World: Star!” The Sun-Herald. 25 May 1969: 87.

Martin, Alec. “She is the True Star.” The Melbourne Truth. 2 November 1968: 39.

Melaun, Kay. “Julie as Gertrude.” The Australian Women’s Weekly. 36: 20, 4 December 1968: 56.

Messer, John. “From Horror to the Sound of Music––That’s Wise.” The Age. 8 October 1968: 8.

“Movies on TV.” The Sydney Morning Herald: TV Guide. 12 May 1975: 1.

“Movies on TV.” The Sydney Morning Herald: Monday Guide. 27 March 1978: 3.

“Movies on TV.” The Sydney Morning Herald: 7-Day Guide. 29 January 1979: 3.

“Movies on TV.” The Sun-Herald. 15 April 1984: 84.

Musgrove, Nan. “Two Women on His Mind.” The Australian Women’s Weekly. 36: 20, 16 October 1968: 2.

“New Boom for Star Musicals.” The Sydney Morning Herald. 1 October 1968: 18.

Palmer, Howard. “Julie Proves It.” The Sun Weekend Magazine. 26 October 1968: 27.

“Sunday TV.” The Age TV-Radio Guide. 30 March 1975: 8.

“Television.” The Age. 3 April 1980: 2.

“Television.” The Age. 28 August 1981: 2.

“Television.” The Age. 21 January 1989: 18.

“Today’s TV.” The Sun-Herald. 21 October 1973: 71.

Veitch, Jack. “Why Robert Wise Doesn’t Need to Work Again.” The Sun- Herald. 6 October 1968: 18.

“What Was the Name of that Film?” The Age. 8 October 1968: 16.

Copyright © Brett Farmer 2018

[ianference]

One hundred years ago today, Wilfred Owen, a Lieutenant in the 2nd Manchesters – and an as-yet unknown poet – fell to German guns in the crossing of the Sambre-Oise Canal in the Second Battle of the Sambre. Here’s a brief account of the final three years of his life, in which he joined the army, suffered wounds and shell shock, found his poetic voice in a hospital, and then perished almost exactly a week before the Armistice took hold and the guns went silent. The story will be told primarily in Owen’s own words, taken from his poems and Collected Letters (Oxford University Press, 1967), and illustrated with stereoviews depicting some of the places and situations that he discusses. The letters will be compressed for brevity’s sake, an as ever, an anaglyph gallery will be positioned at bottom.

Troops marching through Oise, near the canal where Owen died. Courtesy of the Boyd/Jordan Collection.

Joining Up

Having always been a sensitive and scholarly boy, with a literary mind – by age 10, he wanted to be a poet, and was enamored of the Romantics, particularly Keats – Wilfred Owen was an unlikely candidate for a military life. Indeed, at the outbreak of the war, Owen was living in France, working as a tutor, and immersing himself in the culture of the land – and he was in no rush to join up. He planned a trip to Havre, which was cancelled suddenly as passage was denied. When it became apparent that his options were narrowing, he wrote to his mother (henceforth Susan or SO):

Friday – I kept back these extraordinary announcements under a presentiment that my Voyage would not come off—and, indeed, at six o’clock this evening I learnt that it can’t be done. Principal reason stated—my English Nationality. The Voyage to Havre might be managed but not a Return. But, a fortnight next Saturday, I shall most undoubtedly be able to sail to Havre, & perhaps cross to Newhaven, free of charge, for I shall be returning to join the Army… –Addendum to letter to SO, postmarked Bordeaux, originally dated Wednesday 18 August 1915

It would be another two months before he officially joined up:

In the middle of this letter I was called to lunch; and then went to ‘swear in’. This time it is done: I am the British Army! Three of us had to read the Oath together; the others were horribly nervous! and read the wrong Paragraph until the Captain stopped them! ‘Kiss the Book!’ says Captain. One gives it a tender little kiss; the other a loud smacking one! … After that we had to be inoculated for Typhoid. And that is why I am in bed since four o’clock! The delightfully kind, confidence-inspiring doctor gave us full instructions. There were scores of Tommies taking the ordeal before me, and believe me some were as nervous as only fine, healthy animals can be before doctors. One fainted before his turn came, merely as a result of the Doctor’s description of possible symptoms! … We have sick leave until Monday morning. The hours are 9:30 to 4! Jolly reasonable! … The Poetry Bookshop is about 7 mins. walk! There is a Reading this very night! – Letter to SO, postmarked Les Lilas, 54 Tavistock Square, W. C., dated 21 October 1915

Clearly, Owen is still a bit naive as to what he’s signed up for – living in a French boarding house on the square in which Dickens resided whilst writing Bleak House, among other works, and amusing himself with evening poetry readings. Soon, however, he would be shipped off to training campt, and his attitude would change:

I was put on Guard Duty from 9 a.m. yesterday to 9 a.m. today. Miserable time: not allowed to take off packs or boots during 24 hrs. I was Sentry from 11 to 1 and 5 to 7 etc. a. and p.m. I was with fellows that I don’t like—chumps all of them. We got enough to eat; and I made toast on my Bayonet. There was not much Challenging to do. I am one of the orderlies again tomorrow. Now that the novelty is wearing off, this Camping is beginning to get troublesome. I had a card from Stanley Webb today. I am not off this weke end. How is everybody? You W.E.O. – Letter to SO, postmarked “From Cadet W.E.S. Owen, 4756/Hut 6a, Artists’ Reg’t C. Coy./Hare Hall Camp Romford Essex”, dated 28 November 1915.

Very likely a French version of the “chumps” that Owen so despised throughout his early months in the army. As he abhorred course language, excessive alcohol use, and so on, he found few peers early on in his time in the Army, as noted time and time again in his letters. Courtesy of the Boyd/Jordan Collection.

Owen would be training in various capacities – almost always seemingly annoying to him – until he was finally commissioned into the Manchester Regiment in June 1916. But after being denied a position in the Flying Corps, it was more training, as the 5th Manchesters were currently a reserve unit. Owen became an expert marksman, impressing his superiors, and on the 29th of December, he boarded a train to a shipyard – it appeared he was going abroad. In fact, he was to travel to France on New Year’s Day, 1917 – to join the 2nd Manchesters at the front.

The Somme

From arrival in France, it took three days to arrive at Owen’s first destination, the journey wasn’t pleasant, and the other soldiers were even more “chump-like” than his fellow cadets in Britain:

My own dear Mother, I have joined the Regiment, who are just at the end of six weeks’ rest. I will not describe the awful vicissitudes of the journey here … Since I set foot on the Calais quays I have not had dry feet … After those two days, we were let down, gently, into the real thing, Mud. It has penetrated now into that Sanctuary my sleeping bag, and that holy of holies my pyjamas. For I sleep on a stone floor and the servant squashed mud on all my belongings; I suppose by way of baptism. We are 3 officers in this ‘Room’, the rest of the house is occupied by servants and the band; the roughest set of knaves I have ever been herded with. Even now their vile language is shaking the flimsy door between the rooms. –Letter to SO, 4 January 1917. From this point, Owen may only note that he is sending his letters from the 2nd Manchester, so as not to divulge locations in the event of intercepted mail.

It wasn’t long before the young officer was thrown into the action, as the Battle of the Somme was already well underway – the German retreat to the Hindenburg Line was not far off – and Owen found himself in the abandoned village of Bertrancourt:

My own dear Mother, I have just received your long-looked-for letter. It seems wrong that even your dear handwriting should come into such a Gehenna as this. There is a terrific Strafe on. Our artillery are doing a 48 hours bombardment … When we arrived at this deserted Village last night, there had been no billets prepared for the Battalion … for my part I … discovered a fine little hut, with a chair in it! A four-legged chair! The Roof is waterproof, and there is a Stove. There is only one slight disadvantage: there is a Howitzer just 70 or 80 yards away, firing over the top every minute or so. – Letter to SO, 9 January 1917.

The Somme was often like that – every time one side advanced, it would take advantage of whatever features it had captured, down to abandoned huts, destroyed farmhouses, and so on.

A farm at the Somme, rather more devastated than the one Owen stayed at on 9th January. From my collection.

A week later, Owen would finally be truly battle-tested, capturing his first dugout:

I am sorry you have had about 5 days letterless … I can see no reason for deceiving you about these last 4 days. I have suffered seventh hell. I have not been at the front. I have been in front of it … I held an advanced post, that is, a ‘dug-out’ in the middle of No Man’s Land … we had a march of 3 miles over shelled road then nearly 3 along a flooded trench. After that we came to where the trenches had been blown flat out and had to go over the top. It was of course dark, too dark, and the ground was not mud, not sloppy mud, but an octopus of sucking clay, 3, 4, and 5 feet deep, relieved only by craters full of water. Men have been known to drown in them. Many stuck in the mud & only got on by leaving their waders, equipment, and in some cases their clothes … High explosives were dropping all around out, and machine guns spluttered every few minutes … we reached the dug-out, and relieved the wretches therein. –Letter to SO, 16 January 1917.

And a few days later, had his first experience with something that would be one of the focal points of his most well-known poem, Dulce et Decorum Est:

I went on ahead to scout—foolishly alone—and when, half a mile away from the party, got overtaken by

G  A  S

It was only tear-gas from a shell, and I got safely back (to the party) in my helmet, with nothing more than a severe fright! And a few tears, some natural, some unnatural … They want to call No Man’s Land ‘England’ because we keep supremacy there. It is like the eternal place of gnashing teeth ; the Slough of Despond could be contained in one of its crater-holes; the fires of Sodom and Gomorrah could not light a candle to it—to find the way to Babylon the Fallen … It is pock-marked like a body of foulest disease and its odour is the breath of cancer … No Man’s Land under snow is like the face of the moon chaotic, crater-ridden, uninhabitable, awful, the abode of madness … To call it ‘England’! I would as soon call my House (!) Krupp Villa, or my child Chlorina-Phosgena. – Letter to SO, 19 January 1917.

Soldiers in a trench prepared for a gas attack, as Owen would come to be – imagery such as this pops up in many of his poems, most notably in “Dulce et Decorum Est”. Gas warfare was an everyday hazard during the Great War. Courtesy of the Boyd/Jordan Collection.

Besides the intermittent bombardments, Howitzer fire, and gas attacks, life on the front was quite mundane – even officers such as Owen were expected to help dig and reinforce the trenches, a chore he found terribly boring – and complained about to his mother with almost as much frequency as his constant requests for socks, cigarettes, chocolates, and volumes of poetry. It is fairly safe to say that this last item probably stood out among officers at the Somme front at that time. In any case, Owen hated digging trenches.

British soldiers digging second-line trenches, hence their relaxed poses. Owen was on the front line. From my collection.

Then, on March 14th, the monotony was broken, as it were, by a fall. In a letter which does not survive, but which was quoted by Edmund Blunden whilst writing his memoirs, Owen wrote from Le Quesnoy-en-Santerre:

Last night I was going round through pitch darkness to see a man in a dangerous state of exhaustion. I fell into a kind of well, only about 15 ft., bur I caught the back of my head on the way down. The doctors (not in consultation!) say I have a slight concussion. Of course I have a vile headache, but I don’t feel at all fuddled.

But the next his mother heard from him, the situation had changed:

My dearest Mother, I am in a hospital bed, (for the first time in life.) After falling into that hole (which I believe was a shell-hole in a floor, laying open a deep cellar) I felt nothing more than a headache, for 3 days; and I went up to the front in the usual way—or nearly the usual way, for I felt to weak to wrestle with the mud, and sneaked along the top, snapping my fingers at a clumsy sniper. When I got back I developed a high fever, vomited strenuously, and long, and was seized with muscular pains. The night before last I was sent to a shanty a bit further back, & yesterday motored on to this Field Hospital, called Casualty Clearing Station 13. It is nowhere in particular that I know, but I may be evacuatd to Amiens, if my case lasts long enough. – Letter to SO, 18 March 1917.

A field hospital in France, much like the one Owen mentions in the above letter, photographed by A. O. Fasser, an American surgeon who came over to give aid during the Great War. Courtesy of the Boyd/Jordan Collection,

During the stay of a couple of weeks in Amiens, Owen became increasingly bored, as reflected in his musings about the terrible people in the hospital, a sudden desire to become a pig farmer (!), sketches of bungalows he could imagine himself living in, and so forth, that he would constantly send off to his mother, brothers, sisters – really, anybody whose address he had committed to memory. Around this time, he was having conflicting thoughts – he was beginning to adapt to life at the front, while meanwhile, he was imagining himself in easier roles, such as a hospital assistant:

The man in the next bed told me this. We have two cases, pilot & observer, who are terribly smashed. They will both recover, but the pilot has both arms broken, abdominal injuries, both eyes contused, nose cut, teeth knocked in, and skull fractured. It makes me ashamed to be here. But I help to look after him at night. The sister has a wonderful way with him. I like her very much. Constitutionally I am better able to do Service in a hospital than in the trenches. But I suppose we all think that. -Letter to SO, 30 March 1917.

Another of A. O. Fasser’s photographs, of three injured soldiers recovering in a field hospital. Owen clearly felt both inadequate (in not having sustained as serious an injury as most of the dozen or so men in that hospital at the time), but also superior to the wounded men – in that he did not feel that they were worth conversing with. His attitudes would soon change. Courtesy of the Boyd/Jordan Collection.

In direct contradiction to the sentiment from the 30th March letter, however, his following letter is very telling as to his evolving (or, perhaps, devolving) mental state:

Dearest Mother, Know that I have cut my forefinger with a tin of Lobster, and that is why I write shaky. I have just been 4 days caravanning from the CCS, & have just found our H.Q. Journeying over the new ground has been most frightfully interesting. The Batt. has just done something great which will find its way to the Communiqué. I am going up to join them in an hour’s time. They have lost one officer & many are wounded, Haydon among them. I shall no doubt be in time for the Counter Attack. I have bought an automatic pistol in town (from which I sent a P.P.C.) By the time you read this we’ll be out of the line again. … Tonight will be over . . . . My long rest has shaken my nerve. But after all I hate old age, and there is only one way to avoid it! – Letter to SO, 4 April 1917.

When Owen returned to the front, with a shaky hand and admittedly shaky nerves, he arrived to find his commanding officer dead, many of the men badly wounded, and morale terribly low. His orders were to find out the position and strength of the enemy near the trench he was defending – and that meant giving away his position. After casually alerting the enemy of the Manchesters’ presence in the trench, two heavy machine guns bore down on the area. Owen now knew that he was facing a tougher enemy, with little recourse – so he and his men held on, as low as possible, for four days and nights, until it was safe to retreat. In the midst of this, the man standing next to him took a bullet through the bicep – and Owen wrote home with a detached tone that he was envious of the man.

A typical trench at the Somme, presumably much like the one Wilfred Owen was defending in early April. From my collection.

On 9th April, Owen posted a half-completed letter to his brother Colin – whom he had previously written to his mother “would not last three weeks in this sector of Hades” – describing in impersonal, almost robotic detail the killing power of the Bosch machine gun. After this, no word reached any of Owen’s family members until the 25th, when the following letter – reproduced below in its entirety – was posted to Susan:

My own dearest Mother, Immediately after I sent my last letter, more than a fortnight ago, we were rushed up into the Line. Twice in one day we went over the top, gaining both our objectives. Our A Company led the Attack, and of course lost a certain number of men. I had some extraordinary escapes from shells & bullets. Fortunately there was no bayonet work, since the Hun ran before we got up to his trench. You will find mention of our fight in the Communiqué; the place happens to be the very village which Father named in his last letter! Never before has the Battalion encountered such intense shelling as rained on us as we advanced in the open. The Colonel sent round this message the next day: ‘I was filled with admiration at the conduct of the Battalion under such heavy shellfire . . . The leadership of officers was excellent, and the conduct of the men beyond praise.’ The reward we got for all this was to remain in the Line 12 days. For twelve days I did not wash my face, nor take off my boots, nor sleep a deep sleep. For twelve days we lay in holes, where at any moment a shell might put us out. I think the worst incident was one wet night when we lay up against a railway embankment. A big shell lit on the top of the bank, just 2 yards from my head. Before I awoke, I was blown in the air right away from the bank! I passed most of the following days in a railway Cutting, in a hole just big enough to lie in, and covered with corrugated iron. My brother officer of B Coy, 2/Lt Gaukroger lay opposite in a similar hole. But he was covered with earth, and no relief will ever relieve him, nor will his Rest will be a 9 days-Rest. I think that the terribly long time we stayed unrelieved was unavoidable; yet it makes us feel bitterly towards those in England who might relieve us, and will not.

We are now doing what is called a Rest, but we rise at 6.15 and work without break until about 10 p.m. for there is always a Pow-Wow for officers after dinner. And if I have not written yesterday, it is because I must have kept hundreds of letters Uncensored, and enquiries about Missing Men unanswered [remainder missing] – Letter to SO, 25 April 1917, from “A. Coy., My Cellar”

But Owen hadn’t told the whole story. During the barrage, over 30 men under Owen’s command had died. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The “Rest” Owen mentions above quickly turned into one of the most transformative experiences of his life – he was examined by a doctor before being returned to the front, but the doctor found explicit signs that he was suffering from what at the time was known as Neurasthenia, but was commonly referred to as shell shock. The reason would become clear in a later letter to his sister, again reflecting a detached tone:

You must not entertain the least concern about me because I am here. I certainly was shaky when I first arrived. But today Dr. Browne was hammering at my knees without any response whatever. (At first I used to execute the High Kick whenever he touched them) i.e. Reflex Actions quite normal. You know it was not the Bosche that worked me up, nor the explosives, but it was living so long by poor old Cock Robin (as we used to call 2/Lt. Gaukroger), who lay not only near by, but in various places around and about, if you understand. I hope you don’t! – Letter to Mary Owen, 10 May 1917.

Corpses of men killed by trench bombardment – but not in the sort of close quarters that Owen had shared with what remained of “Cock Robin”. Courtesy of the Boyd/Jordan Collection.

Wilfred Owen had lain in shock, for days, without food nor drink, amidst the fragmented corpse of his friend. This would be a shock to anybody. And while Owen was not quite the naive, sensitive lad who’d signed up with the Artists’ Rifles, he was not dulled enough to the horrors of war not to be shaken to his core by this experience. He shifted hospitals a couple of times, before finally arriving at Craiglockhart Hydropathic Hospital in Edinburgh.

Craiglockhart, Return to the Front, and Death

It was at Craiglockhart that Wilfred Owen came into his own as a poet. But first, there was some other business to attend. He continued to write letters rather constantly, which is why such a rich archive of his thoughts during this time period exists. He experimented with poetry, and sent drafts of many poems – most of which only exist as uncompleted fragments in a 1983 collection, “The complete poems and fragments” edited by John Stallworthy – to his family members and friends.

Notably, he was first published in Craiglockhart’s fortnightly literary magazine, The Hydra, which he also promptly took over editing on the advice of his doctor. He not only edited the journal, but anonymously wrote articles, editorials, and commentaries. Although during this period he occasionally yearned for the action of the front, he was content to delve into poetry, further exploring the poets of his youth, whilst biting into newer poets, such as Elizabeth Barrett Browning, of whose work he was immediately enamored. But it was the arrival of a notable “patient” at the hospital that really gave Owen the spark to create his greatest works.

In late July, Siegfried Sassoon arrived, already a published poet, and somewhat notoriously brave (there’s an oft-repeated tale that he once scared off 60 German soldiers by recklessly throwing grenades, singlehandedly capturing a machine gun nest – and then forgot about it entirely, pulling out a book of poems and reading at the nest, and confounding his superiors who didn’t know whether he was alive or dead). Sassoon was a bit of a sore spot for the British government at the moment; he’d published a statement that was read in front of the House of Commons condemning the war. Thus, he’d been placed in Craiglockhart to “recuperate” – in other words, to stay out of trouble. But in August, Owen and Sassoon would cross paths, and immediately take to one another:

At last I have an event worth a letter. I have beknown myself to Siegfried Sassoon. Went in to him last night (my second call). The first visit was one morning last week. The sun blazed into his room making his purple dressing suit of a brilliance—almost matching my sonnet! He is very tall and stately, with a fine firm chisel’d (how’s that?) head, ordinary short brown hair. The general expression of his face is one of boredom. Last night when I went in he was struggling to read a letter from Wells; whose handwriting is not only a slurred suggestion of works, but in a dim pink ink! Wells talks of coming up here to see him and his doctor; not about Sassoon’s state of health, but about God the Invisible King. … Next day – … So the last thing he said was ‘Sweat your guts out writing poetry!’  ‘Eh?’ says I. ‘Sweat your guts out, I say!’ He also warned me against early publishing: but recommended Martin Secker for a small volume of 10 or 20 poems. [Here Owen actually inquires about the addressee of his letter briefly, before returning to Sassoon.] Sassoon quite admires Thos. Hardy more than anybody living. I don’t think much of what I’ve read. Quite potatoey after the meaty Morals. You’ll have had enough of Sassoon, what? Just one more tit-bit. Wells said in his last letter: hope you will soon ‘devote yourself to the real business of your life, which is poetry only by the way.’ Poor Wells! We made some fancy guesses as to what he meant:—Tract-writing? stump-oratory? politics? what? Cheero! I’m well enough by day, and generally so by night. A better mode of life than this present I could not practically manage. – Letter to Leslie Gunston, 22 August, 1917.

Clearly, Owen was enamored with Sassoon from the get-go. Over the next couple of days, he wrote letters to Susan, to his father, Tom, to his sister Mary, and quite possibly to others raving of Sassoon’s virtues. The two became fast friends, albeit in a relationship marked by an imbalanced power dynamic – the younger Owen practically worshiped Sassoon, so much so that he’d write alternate drafts of some of his earliest (and one of his best known) war poems, and have Sassoon choose versions, wordings, even titles, as he did in the case of what was originally titled “Anthem to Dead Youth”, and then “Anthem for Dead Youth”, and finally the poem we all know today:

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? -Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, – The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes. The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

–Wilfred Owen, written at Craiglockhart in September-October 1917, with the assistance of Siegfried Sassoon

Sassoon would also introduce Owen to a great number of prominent figures in the literary circles of the era, including Robbie Ross and Robert Graves. It is through the latter that we most extensively know that Owen was homosexual (or, possibly, bisexual); although other sources confirmed it, Owen’s brother Harold posthumously destroyed his diary, and severely redacted and/or destroyed many of his letters and some of his poems. Sadly, these are almost certainly entirely lost to history, as Harold’s widow donated everything that remained to Oxford University in the 1970s.

In any case, Sassoon had a tremendous impact on Owen’s writing style, pushing him away from the romanticism which had consumed his youth, into an area of stark realism – writing from experience. And much of Owen’s recent experience was rough and gritty and nasty, to say the least.

Things Wilfred Owen would be quite familiar with – gas masks, grenades, rifles, flamethrowers, sandbags, trenches… Courtesy of the Boyd/Jordan Collection.

Owen learned much from Sassoon, but he refused to take Sassoon’s biggest piece of advice – that under no circumstances should he seek to return to the front. Sassoon was himself a “danger junkie”; he reveled in taking almost absurd risks, which elevated him to the rank of Captain before he left the service in 1919 after a friendly-fire shot to the head. But he recognized that Owen, while brave, was not – and should spend his talents elsewhere – specifically in the writing of poetry. Nevertheless, in November, Owen was judged fit for duty again, and moved back to the 5th Manchesters at Scarborough. From there, he wrote the following to Sassoon:

I sit alone at last, and therefore with you, my dear Siegfried. For which name, as much as for anything in any envelope of your sealing, I give thanks and rejoice. The 5th have taken over a big Hotel, of which I am Major Domo, which in the vulgar, means Lift Boy. I manage Accommodation, Food, and Service. I boss cooks, housemaids, charwomen, chamber-maids, mess orderlies—and drummers … I had a Third Heaven of a time in London, and should have got into a Fourth or Fifth if I had not missed you on Wednesday. – Letter to Siegfried Sassoon, 27 November, 1917.

In December, Owen was promoted to Lieutenant, and Sassoon was sent back to the front, where he would remain until he was wounded by one of his own men. Owen, on the other hand, stayed on light duty until January 1918, when he learned that he would return to France.

Owen continued serving in the trenches for another ten months. He was noted as being a brave and fair commander of men, although he had softened some to their language and bad habits, as depicted in his final letter to Susan, written on All Hallows’ Eve, in which the men are almost admirably described:

Dear Mother,    I will call the place from which I’m now writing ‘The Smoky Cellar of the Forester’s House’. I write on the first sheet of the writing pad which came in the parcel yesterday. Luckily the parcel was small, as it reached me just before we moved off to the line. My servant & I ate the chocolate in the cold middle of last night, crouched under a draughty Tamboo, roofed with planks. I husband the Malted Milk for tonight, & tomorrow night. The handkerchief & socks are most opportune, as the ground is marshy, & I have a slight cold!    So thick is the smoke in this cellar that I can hardly see by a candle 12 ins. away, and so thick are the inmates that I can hardly write for pokes, nudges & jolts. On my left the Coy. Commander snores on a bench: other officers repose on wire beds behind me. At my right hand, Kellett, a delightful servant of A Coy. in The Old Days radiates joy & contentment from pink cheeks and baby eyes. He laughs with the signaller, to whose left ear is glued the Receiver; but whose eyes rolling with gaiety show that he is listening with his right ear to a merry corporal, who appears at this distance away (some three feet) nothing [but] a gleam of white teeth & a wheee of jokes.    Splashing my hand, an old soldier with a walrus moustache peels & drops potatoes into the pot. By him, Keyes, my cook, chops wood; another feeds the smoke with the damp wood.    It is a great life. I am more oblivious than alas! yourself, dear Mother, of the ghastly slimmering of the guns outside, & the hollow crashing of the shells.    There is no danger down here, or if any, it will be well over before you read these lines.    I hope you are as warm as I am; as serene in your room as I am here; and that you think of me never in bed as resignedly as I think of you always in bed. Of this I am certain you could not be visited by a band of friends half so fine as surround me here.

Ever Wilfred x

   —Letter to Susan Owen, 31 October, 1918

Four days later, Owen would meet his fate in the Sambre-Oise Canal; accounts of the exact nature of his death vary, and none can be seen as reliable. It is certain that he was killed by German machine gun fire, but the exact circumstances are unclear. Owen might have faded into obscurity if not for the posthumous efforts by Sassoon to publish his works, and by his brother Harold to publish a biography & collection of letters – albeit heavily edited to remove most traces of his brother’s homosexuality from his legacy. In Britain at the time, homosexuality was still seen as deviant, and was a criminal offense – in the not too distant past, Oscar Wilde had been imprisoned for it, which led to his early demise.

But Owen’s legacy lives on; he is currently second only to Shakespeare in terms of poets read by British pupils, and he’s widely read elsewhere as well, generally named amongst the greatest war poets of all time. On Remembrance Day 1985, Owen, Sassoon, Graves, Blunden, and twelve other Great War poets were commemorated in the Poet’s Corner at Westminster Abbey; the inscription on the stone was from Owen’s unpublished preface to what he had planned to be his first monograph had he lived to complete it: “My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.”

Owen is buried near where he fell, at Ors Communal Cemetery, with an inscription chosen by Susan Owen, who learned of her beloved son’s death on the very day – a week later – that the rest of Britain was celebrating the Armistice:

“SHALL LIFE RENEW THESE BODIES? OF A TRUTH ALL DEATH WILL HE ANNUL” W.O.

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, 18th March 1893 – 4th November 1918.

Anaglyphs

          Wilfred Owen: Anthem for a Doomed Poet One hundred years ago today, Wilfred Owen, a Lieutenant in the 2nd Manchesters - and an as-yet unknown poet - fell to German guns in the crossing of the Sambre-Oise Canal in the Second Battle of the Sambre.

[m2k021]

Coffee

Part 1

Summary: Kora accidentally bumped into Min Yoongi on her way home. He offers to help her write her songs and to help her Korean, since she’s a little rusty. Over time, she begins to feel things, things she doesn’t want to feel. She knows that Yoongi thinks of her as a little sister. But does he really?

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: Fluff, Flirting, Eventual Smut

A/N: Set right before the release of Cypher 4

“Ah, dammit!” I shouted, crouching down to pick up my scattered notes. A boy kneeled to help. “No, it’s alright. I’ve got it.” I said, darting my hands out to grab the notes before he could read them. “Sorry for making a scene.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” he said, his hand reaching for my lyrics book, which was wide open.

“No!” I said, lunging forward to snatch the book from his grasp. “I-I’m sorry, it’s personal.” I muttered. My face burned with embarrassment.

“Um, I understand.” He said, flipping over the pages as he handed them to me. I finally looked up and re-dropped everything. He chuckled.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, feeling my face burn even brighter. “Min Yoongi.”

He grinned his usual gummy smile. I glanced around for the other members, semi-glad to find them not there. Suga is my bias. “So, you finally recognized me.” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for being such an ass.” I muttered, keeping eye contact with him.

“No, it’s okay. You weren’t an ass,” he said with a stomach fluttering smile. “What are they?” He asked, nodding to my various papers.

I hesitated. ‘Um, they’re lyrics.” I muttered, tucking the pages into my bag.

“Oh, you write?” He asked, leaning back on his heels to look at me.

“Not really, well, I mean, yeah, but um, I, uh, I…” I fumbled for my words,

He chuckled. “It’s alright, you don’t owe an explanation. But, if you would like someone to look over them, I’ll be glad to. I’ve got nothing scheduled for the next couple of hours.” He offered his hand to help me stand, which I took.

“Well, um, you don’t have to, that’s fine.” I stammered.

“No, I’d love to. I always like to read other people’s lyrics.” He said with a smile.

“Um, really?” I asked quietly, rocking back and forth on my heels.

“Yeah, come on. We can do it over coffee?” He asked, moving so I could walk first.

“The others won’t wonder where you are?” I questioned, turning around to look at him.

“No, they know not to expect me for another two hours. We’ve got plenty of time,” he said.

“Thanks, for doing this, but, why are you doing this?” I asked, turning my head to look at him.

He was quiet for a moment. “Well,” he slowly answered, “I like to help and, well, I think you’re cute and I want to help you.” He said, smiling at the ground.

My eyes widened and my face flushed a deep red. “O-oh, thanks.” I said, biting my lip to hide my smile.

“It’s no problem.” He said. “The shop is just up here. I was thinking we could grab a coffee, then go somewhere more quiet?” He asked, turning to me for approval.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be great.” I said, nodding vigorously. We quickly approached the store and darted in. His face was obscured by his hat, and somewhere along the way he had slipped on his face mask.

“What’ll it be?” He asked, pushing his mask down under his chin. I grinned at the chance to see this sight in person.

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato,” I said with a smirk. He chuckled, his cheeks filling over the mask. He looked cute and puffy.

He approached the counter and gave the barista our orders before coming back to me. “It’ll be just a minute,” he said. “In the meantime, what’s your name? I never asked.”

“Oh! Right, I’m Kora.” I said, sticking my hand out to shake his.

“Kora, pretty.” He said with a smile. I blushed again. “You’re American?” He asked.

“Hmm, Italian, actually,” I said. “My mom was born in Florence, as was I, but we moved to America when I was a year old.” I explained.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Do you know any Italian?” He asked.

“Mmm, unfortunately, no, no I do not. I was too early for the language to stick, and my mom always spoke English after we moved to America.” I said, shaking my head. “I wish, though, that she’d teach me some Italian, but she’s very weird whenever I bring up Italy.”

“Aw, that’s shame.” He said. “So, why’d you move to South Korea?” He asked, asking me to wait when the barista called our names. When he came back, we both left the shop and continued to talk.

“Well, I moved here to get away from America. I’m sick of it there, to be completely honest. My life wasn’t all that good. I was the straight-A student, Valedictorian, then I graduated and my mom and dad wanted me to be a lawyer like them, but that’s not what I want.” I shrugged and sipped on the coffee, relishing in the caramel goodness.

“Then what do you want?” He asked, watching me over the edge of the cup as he sipped.

I considered the question before answering. “Well, I have a strong passion for music, like singing and dancing, and also for learning, That’s partially why I came here. I wanted to learn about another culture and language, and, I gotta say, I’m impressed.” I said with an approving scoff.

“How so?” Yoongi asked, swishing his drink back and forth. From the aroma, I could tell that it was the same as mine.

“Well, for one, your culture is amazing! You’re use of honorifics, it’s great. Everyone is so polite and respectful, meanwhile, over in America, you’ve got people shooting up elementary schools.” He smiled over the steam that was rising from his coffee. “Also, the language. I thought that learning spanish was hard, but, phew, Korean is ten times worse. It’s so complicated, especially with the Hangul. Like, if you guys wrote with the romanized version, it would have been slightly easier, but no. It was so difficult for me to learn, especially since I came here with no knowledge of Korea or its customs.

“So, when I got here, I knew nothing. I could only speak English and spanish. It took me nearly two years to learn Korean, and I’m still rusty. I constantly forget the honorifics, and people tend to think that I’m incredibly rude, especially when I mess them up. It’s so embarrassing.” I blushed slightly, shying away from his amused expression.

“Well, a few times during this conversation I’ve gotten lost. Who taught you Korean?” He asked.

“Myself,” I said timidly.

“Really?” He asked in surprise and amazement, stopping me.

“Yeah, I went to some classes, but I began to piece everything together after a while. I taught myself almost everything.” I said, my cheeks reddening again.

“Wow, for a second I thought I was going to have to scold someone, but you’re actually a pretty good speaker for being self-taught,” he said with a huff. “I’m impressed.”

I stood straighter, a little confused. “Wait, so I’m bad?”

“No, not bad, just….a little confused. You used some words backwards, but you’re still really good. If you want, I can also tutor you in Korean, in exchange that you teach me some English.” He said with a gummy smile.

I grinned. “Deal,” I stuck out my hand and he took it, shaking it firmly.

“Deal,” he grinned back. “But still, you’re pretty darn good, I just need to see your writing.” He said.

“Oof, that’s where I’m really bad.” I laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck. Just then, a phone pinged and we both dug through our pockets to check ours. It turned out to be his, but I decided to shoot my best friend a text about who I was with.

Yoongi was busy on his phone as I screamed at my best friend, Ella, about what was happening. “Here, let me get your number, Kora. I’m so sorry, but something just came up.” He said, handing his phone to me.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” I lied. Maybe he was ready to ditch me. I quickly typed in my phone number and name, with a reminder of who I was before handing his phone back to him.

“Look, I’m not trying to ditch you, Kora-” he read my mind- “Namjoon is having an issue with some equipment, and none of the others can help. I’ll call you later tonight. Again, I’m so sorry. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He called out as he rushed across the street and got swept away by the Seoul current.

I huffed in disappointment. Maybe I jinxed myself when I told Ella. I thought, chugging the rest of my coffee before throwing it away. Not even a minute passed before my phone pinged. I thought it was Ella, but was surprised to find an unknown number. It was Yoongi. I internally screamed as I answered.

He wasn’t ditching me! I skipped along the sidewalk, giggling and humming happily as I made my way. I finally made it home and threw my bag down, giggling again as I sat down. I put my phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ so Ella’s frantic texts wouldn’t come through anymore. I sighed as I flopped onto my bed, tucking my hands between my knees as I thought. Best. Day. EVER!

[tetesaxman]

My Boston and New York Trip Summary

I wrote this as part of my WLJ Internship.

Staff Diary : 

We have many talented staff: full-time, part-time, interns, volunteers working with us towards strengthening our jazz community. From time to time we’d like to feature a personal thoughts of them. For this entry, we would like to feature our loving intern Te and about his first big trip to the States to Los Angels, Boston and the jazz capital, New York City!

MY BOSTON AND NEW YORK TRIP SUMMARY  Pongthipok Sootthipong (WLJ SG intern)

BOSTON DAY 1 - Wally’s Cafe Jazz Bar

As I was in the car driving from Merced to San Francisco Airport to take a flight to Boston, I’ve already looked up some jazz bars in Boston. Without thinking about how cold it was gonna be when I arrive in Boston, I planned to go to Wally’s Cafe Jazz Bar, which has been established since 1947. There were two things that made me decide to go to Wally’s that day, number one, how close it is to the hotel I was staying at and it advertised itself on its website as ‘Musicians Training Ground’. Since, I really wanted to see what the Berklee kids are doing musically, there was no hesitation. 

I reach Boston at 6 or 7pm, It was about 4 degrees Celsius, which I was told, was quite warm for Boston’s winter temperatures. I was literally freezing. I didn’t rethink my decision though, I took the metro to Wally’s. My description of Wally’s would be a space where the growing musicians can come and grow. It was a small bar with barely more space than the space of one ground floor shop house unit. It didn’t help with the fact that the place was packed back to front. I couldn’t get anywhere past the door.

As for the music at Wally’s, It was a saxophone quartet. I don’t know who it was but they were quite talented and young so I had my suspicions that they were Berklee or New England Conservatory students. To be honest, the level of musicianship on that day was pretty high, despite the loud talking and intoxicated audience. I felt like I didn’t appreciate their music as much as I should. This is purely because they were playing modern jazz, straight eighth kinda feel, which I haven’t studied and therefore do not understand. I stayed for 1 and half set. I had to leave because it was too hot inside the bar, too cold outside the bar and I needed to catch the train back to the hotel. Overall, it was a mixed experience stompin’ in at Wally’s but I blamed that on my level of musical understanding. 

BOSTON DAY 2 - BERKLEE COLLEGE OF MUSIC

The second day of my Boston trip, I was scheduled to meet with the Singaporean bassist studying abroad at Berklee College of Music, Mr. John Koh. We scheduled to meet at 160 Massachusetts Avenue at 12pm or as I called it, the Berklee new building. Prior to my meeting John, i’d like to do some CD shopping. After a search on Google Maps, I discovered that the best thing to do is to head to a music shop at the New England Conservatory, which was only down the road from my hotel. I was expecting the shop to be a CD shop, but instead it was a music shop, full of scores and other stuff. I bought a Brecker book then left. I discovered that I could walk from NEC to Berklee in 10 mins. Hence I did. 

As I walked up to Berklee on that cold saturday afternoon, I see the vibe, the practice vibe. Everybody was walking into or out of the Berklee College of Music buildings with their instruments and with their friends. The vibe was incredibly positive and friendly. There were Wendy’s restaurant, some bars, musical instrument shops and 7-eleven across the street. 

After I met up with John Koh, he took me for a trip around the campus of Berklee Boston. Their recording studios and suites are massive and state of the art. They have loads of fully equipped ensemble rooms littered throughout the campus buildings. They have a library full of music books. They have a big computer lab and a Stan Getz saxophone on display. 

However, their practice rooms are extremely tiny when compared to anything we are used to here at the college I studied at, LASALLE College of the arts or any other practice studios at Yong Siew Toh Conservatory of Music. Their piano rooms can only fit one upright piano and a bench and that’s it. In fact, when I came back to Singapore and told my teacher, Greg Lyons about Berklee. Being an alumni, he described the practice rooms for saxophone as telephone booths. All of this didn’t matter because on this saturday afternoon a week before christmas, everybody was practicing and shedding and hanging around Berklee. In fact, the day I was there, there happened to be an assault that took place at the 7-eleven opposite to the campus, but it didn’t matter because, everybody was still hanging around campus at 10pm. Massachusetts Avenue was still alive on this cold saturday night. 

NEW YORK CITY 

Two days later I was cruising through jazz bars in New York City. I went to the infamous Village Vanguard where I’ve paid 35 dollars for two nights for a 10:30pm set to watch Kenny Barron and Vanguard Jazz Orchestra. The set at Village Vanguard ended around midnight. Both nights, I was starstrucked to be able to watch some of my heros such as Kenny Barron and Dick Oatts performed live in front of me. The set at Village Vanguard ends around midnight. I would then grab a pizza from the store next door and walk down a block to Smalls. I love Smalls. It’s really a proper underground (literally) jazz bar you would envision to see in New York City. I was also there for two nights. I caught Ben Zweig Trio “After-hours” at 1am playing proper, super swingin’ swing music on the first night, and Jon Elbaz Trio “After-hours” at 1am playing more third-stream music which I’ve yet to understand. The will to find out more about the music made me stay for the after jam session on that night. 

It was closing in on 3:30am at Smalls. The after hours jam session is coming to the last song. The last song they played was ‘If I were a Bell’. Since It was getting late, each jammers was only allowed to take one chorus. There were about 6 saxophonists and a few more trumpeters and trombonists. Each jammers looks like they are college kids or younger. I could have sworn that they are 25 and younger. However, their level of playing is beyond beliefs. The language, the connection to the music, the communication within the band stand is astonishing. I’d never forget that last song. Each players were trying their best, all different sounds with one common goal, to play as good as they can play. 

I cannot put into words how inspired I am from taking this trip to Boston and New York as well as Los Angeles, where I actually jammed. I made new friends in these three cities last December and I’m glad. I’m glad that I’m fortunate enough to have experience what the music is really like in one of the best jazz schools in the world as well as the city which has been at the center of jazz music for the longest time. Prior to my journey to the states, I felt really stuck and uninspired, the jazz scene in Singapore was not doing so well and I’ve no new inspiration. No new experiences to fill that urge of wanting more even though I tried to get myself to be inspired, I practiced more, I transcribed more, I listened more. But at the end of the day, It was same old same old.  Same places, same tunes and same acts. It was as though nobody cares about the music anymore. It was as though we lost that connection that bonded music to us. 

Why not move to New York? I’d love to put myself in New York City, but that’s still a long journey away. Obviously there are many disadvantages of living in New York both musically and physically. However, I’m never someone who plans ahead that much, I’m more of a guy who make what now matters. I figured that the thing I can do now, is try to bring New York City back to me. To be the best of what I am. To push beyond expectations and limitations. To be inspired and eventually inspiring. There won’t be an end. 

In Singapore now and doing my thesis for my four months left at LASALLE College of the Arts, I have one big goal. My one and only big goal is to aim high, to aim to be as good as the New York Cats I saw ; jamming ‘If I Were a Bell’ at Smalls at 3:30am in the morning. I know it’s a long shot but it’s worth a try. This is because at the end of the day, you learn from your actions. 

MORE PICTURES

VINCENT HERRING at SMOKE, New York City

Vanguard Jazz Orchestra at Village Vanguard, New York City

Jam Session at Mezzrow Jazz Club, New York City

ALL BUT TWO jazz bars I went in the US was overground.

 Masami Kuroki at Rhythm Room, Los Angeles

Written by Tete with help and inspiration from Aya Sekine: Somewhen in early 2019

tetesaxman.com

welovejazz.org

[meraenthusiast]

The Psychology Of Happiness (What’s Really Important?)

Psychology Of Happiness – Can Money Help?

During the COVID-19 pandemic, our periodontal practice (along with all Louisiana dental practices) were mandated to shut down. Now granted we could still see emergencies but for the most part, we didn’t treat or see patients for seven weeks.

During that down time I was able to get a small glimpse of what retirement life might be like and also reflect on life and priorities.

Honesty, I thought our family needed much more $ to live on but I was wrong. Food, clothing and shelter costs were nowhere near what I thought which forced me to start paying more attention to our household budget.

The down time also allowed me to focus on what’s important and what’s not important. It also gave me time to realize what really makes me happy which encouraged me to do a little research on the psychology of happiness.

What we think makes up happy and what we strive for on a daily basis doesn’t make sense. I’ll explain shortly.

Related article: The Hedonic Treadmill – Why Stuff Won’t Make You Happier

Life Is Short

I’m currently coaching my son’s little league baseball team. One of the kids on the team is a friend of mine’s son, Andrew. You see, Andrew’s dad and I, Andy, used to play doubles together in a local tennis league.

Andy was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer at the age of 33. He never smoked a day in his life.

When the baseball league started this summer, Andy wasn’t doing well and unfortunately passed away a few days ago at the young age of 40.

I coached his son during his last night on Earth and it breaks my heart to know that he went home to see his dad for the last time.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” – Joshua 1:9

Initially, Andy was only given 6 months to live but several different experimental treatments allowed him to spend an extra seven years with his wife and three kids.

Each time I’ve walked out on to the ball field, his son reminded me just how precious life is. Whenever he stepped up to the plate, his dad wasn’t able to be there, only watching via Facetime.

Praying over Andrew after his dad’s passing.

If I had a difficult day at work, the only thing I had to do was reflect on Andy’s situation. It made me realize what was really important.

So why do we chase the things each day that we think will make us happy? Money? Fame? Material items?

Andy’s situation and our pastor’s recent sermon encouraged me to look into the psychology of happiness a bit further.

How To Think About Life

Our pastor gave a sermon during the pandemic that really got me thinking. He explained how a recent experience he had with completing a census card showed him how to start thinking about life.

He found an old census card with his dad’s name on it and noted it was strange to see that his dad was only 8 at the time. He had his whole life in front of him but had no idea how it would turn out.

Who would he be?

Who would he marry?

Would he have kids?

What was really strange was that Bill, our pastor, already knew everything as his story was completed. Bill knew that his dad would fight in the Korean War, have three kids, live in Texas, retire and eventually pass away.

Priorities

Viewing his dad’s life from beginning to end made him aware of how short our time on Earth really is.

What if instead of using a calendar to count UP our time, we used a scoreboard clock to count it down?

So instead of celebrating birthdays to tell the world how many years you’ve lived, what if we had to focus on how many years we have left?

Think about how that would change your priorities.

Do you think that changed my friend Andy’s priorities?

“So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12

The Psychology Of Happiness

What makes you happy?

Have you ever stopped and given thought to what really makes you happy?

Is it spending time with the family?

Is it taking the vacation or planning it? (for me it’s planning)

Buying the new car or saving for it?

The thought of moving into that dream “doctor” house?

Sports?

Entertainment?

Relationships?

What did King Solomon do?

King Solomon wrote the Book of Proverbs early in his life and Ecclesiastes later. He had EVERYTHING given to him that a person could possibly want.

From wisdom to riches, this guy had it ALL!

So he set out to find happiness and he ended up trying most of the things our society does today.

Intellectualism didn’t satisfy him so he moved onto pleasure. He had the best comedians and entertainers brought him to make him laugh. I guess I’d have started with Will Ferrell or Jerry Seinfeld myself.

He grew weary of being entertained and moved onto chemical pleasure. When that didn’t work he focused on materialistic pleasure next.

Ecclesiastes 2:4 – “I also tried to find meaning by building huge homes for myself and by planting beautiful vineyards.”

When the mansion and garden didn’t do it for him he moved on to women. Speaking of women, this guy had 700 wives and 300 concubines.

I don’t know about you, but if I wasn’t happy with wife #4 or #5, I don’t think I’d have kept going to 700. Just saying….

After none of those panned out, he stated in Ecclesiastes 2:11 – “But as I looked at everything I had worked so hard to accomplish, it was all so meaningless—like chasing the wind. There was nothing really worthwhile anywhere.”

The Pursuit Of Pleasure

Solomon realized that the pursuit of pleasure wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

He experienced firsthand about the “Law of Diminishing Returns” which states that what WAS satisfying will NEVER stay satisfying.

For instance, in his pursuit of pleasure from chemicals, one high only lead to another and another, etc.

When he tried to find pleasure via materialistic means, he realized that enough is NEVER enough. He always wanted more. Sound familiar?

Why is that? Well Mr. Dave Ramsey may have an answer. He says, “We buy things we don’t need with money we don’t have to impress people we don’t like.”

This constant dissatisfaction pushes most to overspend and never be satisfied with how much money we make.

The Adaptation Principle

Whatever happens to us, more than likely we’re going to adapt to it, but you don’t realize initially that you will. This is the basis of the adaptation or hedonic principle.

This is why we expect a certain level of service when staying at resorts/hotels because we’ve adapted to the Ritz Carlton experience. 🙂

In the book, The Happiness Curve: Why Life Gets Better AFTER 50, author Jonathan Haidt states, “We don’t just habituate, we re-calibrate. We create for ourselves a world of targets, and each time we hit one we replace it with another. We keep aiming higher after a string of success, but we aim lower after a massive setback.”

If you make Hedonism your goal then pleasure will always allude you.  Pleasure is a byproduct of other things. When it becomes the focus it becomes unattainable.

In the long run, it doesn’t much matter what happens to you. This is the basis of the hedonic treadmill. We continue to strive, all the while doing things that we think will help us win at the game of life.

Ever feel like you’re the hamster on the wheel running and running and never going anywhere? Yeah, me too.

Haidt also states that, “We’re all stuck in a zero-sum game, a world in which rising wealth does NOT bring rising happiness.”

How Much Money Makes Us Happy?

You’ve probably read studies regarding how much money it takes to make us happy.

Actually, money is important to bring us happiness, but only to a certain point.

As stated earlier, I experienced this during the pandemic when we noticed that when our basic needs are met (food, clothing and shelter), we’re just as happy as before.

Most income studies tell us that we don’t need to make a million bucks a year to be happy.

Maybe you’d have skipped out on medical/dental school if you’d learned this sooner!

It seems that the sweet spot is somewhere around the $70,000 – $75,000 range.

So if we’re only happy up until a certain amount, then what are we supposed to do?

Glad you asked…..

Dave’s Answer

It’s funny how God works. Well maybe “funny” isn’t the right word but during the several days I’ve been researching and writing this article, my YouTube subscription from the Dave Ramsey show entered the inbox.

The title of the video (9 min segment of the show) was, “Americans Have A Problem.”

Guess what that problem is? Living life to acquire stuff.

Dave calls this disease “stuff-itis“.

He also makes a point within the first two minutes that possessions that once brought him joy at one phase of his life didn’t later on.

  I can certainly relate to this as there are many items (i.e. vehicles) that I thought were the most important thing at one time that aren’t now.

We’re seeing this same situation play out with our 15 year old and his new (used) vehicle purchase. He’s very excited and talks daily about the new stereo, tires and other bling items he can add to it.

For him, the 2004 Toyota 4Runner is his main focus. More than likely when he’s married with kids, he’ll move on to something else. What brings him joy now is probably not going to when he’s 35 with two kids.

This, to me, is how the psychology of happiness works. It’s an ever moving target that changes with life’s stages and circumstances.

Don’t Worry Be Happy

If your life is geared toward the pursuit of pleasure then I’ve got bad news for you…you’ll never obtain it. Just ask King Solomon.

He had it all and was still ticked off!

The pursuit of pleasure (hedonism) is built on 2 things:

Dissatisfaction

Selfishness

For those that are believers, we realize that the only way to become satisfied is from Christ and NOT from stuff.

Ecclesiastes 2:24 – “So I decided there is nothing better than to enjoy food and drink and to find satisfaction in work. Then I realized that these pleasures are from the hand of God.”

Stop living for yourself

Ecclesiastes 2:26 – “God gives wisdom, knowledge, and joy to those who please him.”

If you want to find TRUE joy and happiness then focus on others. Wait a minute Jeff. You mean building the dream home or traveling to Fiji isn’t going to bring me ever-lasting happiness?

Survey says………….Nope.

The HAPPIEST people I know are GIVERS and live a purpose-driven life.

Have you ever given someone a Christmas gift that didn’t know you? It could have been a meal or a kid’s bike. Doesn’t matter.

How did it make you feel to see the look of surprise on their face? Were you happier serving that person rather than opening gifts Christmas morning? There’s only so many pairs of socks you can wear, right?

Remember, happiness is going to change depending on what stage of life you’re in. A child is going to care more about birthday gifts than when they’re older adults. Well maybe!

From a personal perspective, I’m MUCH happier on the giving rather than receiving end of stuff. How about you?

In the book, “The Geometry of Wealth”, author Brian Portnoy discusses how happier people live with a purpose. He teaches that the first step is figuring out where you want to go.

Money serves to push us in that direction. It’s hard to find freedom to do what we really want to do without money. I’m not saying it can’t be done….but money makes it easier.

So what’s freedom mean to you?

More Valuable Than Money

You’ve probably heard the phrase “Time is MONEY.” The older I get, the more I realize how important time is. Time with kids. Time with my wife. Time with my parents and friends.

Do you see a trend here? Relationships and time are important and can’t be bought with money.

This site is dedicated to give you resources on what it takes to build passive income streams.

You can do what you want with your new found wealth but for me, it’s using it to free up my time away from the practice.

Passive income is so important that I’ve dedicated myself to sharing my personal experience on how I’m acquiring it so you too can do the same.

So I’ll ask you again. What’s freedom mean to you?

Passive Investors Circle

Are you ready to take the next step to freedom? Consider joining the Free Passive Investors Circle today.

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I see a lot of people on this thread asking Should I start this? How does XYZ be able to do it? How do I find the motivation to do it? etc. This is part II of a two-part summary of the book Deep Work by Cal Newport that I wrote for my friend to urge him to read it during the quarantine. I categorize the essence of an entrepreneur into certain core skills. I then read up on books that teach those skills and summarize them for the benefit of my friend and mine. I plan to post the summaries here for yours as well. You can find the first part hereMy friend, the 4DX framework is not a how-to guide for deep work alone. You can apply it to anything you do. Most successful people apply this (Planning, Measuring, Execution & Feedback) in their lives to some extent but some do not realize they were doing it. (unconscious competence)As you will see, deep work is a common skill from Bill Gates, Carl Jung, J K Rowling, Walter Isaacson and every other successful person who has ever achieved something worthwhile. (Walter Isaacson is the biographer of many great 21st century personalities. As an Apple fanboy, You will particularly appreciate that Steve Jobs personally requested him to do his biography)Coming back to our deep work example, You are in IT sales. You want to earn that commission. It means financial freedom to you. If I asked you to measure it, you would probably start measuring sales deals closed/month or revenue earned/month. But as we just learned, these are lag measures. You cannot directly measure them. What should you measure? The Number of leads approached/day. The Number of clients spoken to/day. These are things that you can directly influence daily. If you work on them and do it right, your lag measures (sales deals closed/month) will increase, right? Right. And then you can get the commission you wanted.​Tip #1: Plan these things in advanceWhere you'll work and for how longHow you will work once you start to workHow will you support your workAt this point, you might think, isn't this excessive? Do I need to plan out that far? Well, the answer is yes, my friend. Remember our school friend Dan? He makes it a point to start work at 7 am every day. He has a ritual. He reaches his office by 7 am, makes calls to his clients for an hour, and then schedules other work for the day and takes small breaks in between. This ritualistic habit is key to making it work. (Co-incidentally building habits is key - whether it is going to the gym, learning a new language, learning to code, etc - more on this later). Deciding where you will work and then getting there and doing it, will automatically put you in the mood for deep work.How long you will work for is also equally important. This is something you must decide after trying it. Initially, your focus muscle will be weak. So you will find yourself distracted. ( I will teach how to deal with distractions later) So it is important to set timers for yourself (say 25 minutes. I started with 25 minutes a year ago and now I can work for 90 minutes without my mind starting to wander).How will you work once you start to work? - Set rules and processes to keep your effort structured. For example, I will make 5 sales calls per hour. I will not use the internet or my phone until it is over, etcHow will you support your work - Your brain needs all the support it can get for doing deep work. It could be a cup of coffee, a light morning walk or exercise. Our friend, Dan always said that the 30-minute early morning walk kept his mind brisk and his day energetic. What worked for him may not work for you. So from now on, take stock of how clear your thinking is when you do certain activities. I start the day with guided meditation ( I use the headspace app - the free version should do just fine) and it allows me to concentrate. More importantly, it lets me realize when my thoughts have gone on a different track, even when I am not meditating!​Tip #2: Make Grand GesturesIn 2007, J K Rowling was struggling to finish her final book - The Deathly Hallows. She recalled in an interview that there was a day when the window cleaner came or the dogs were barking or the kids were at home. She decided to do something extreme to finish her book. She booked a suite at the Balmoral Hotel, located in Edinburgh. And she completed her book there!Back when Bill Gates was still Microsoft CEO, he was famous for taking a 'Think Weeks' holiday. He would leave behind his work and family to stay at a cabin with research papers to think for weeks at a time. He could have done this at his office, but he chose to do it there. He arrived at his famous conclusion that the Internet was going to be the next big thing in the industry there! (seems obvious now).Walter Isaacson and Carl Jung retreat to hard-to-reach places to complete their books or to improve their thinking.You might remember that I go to Starbucks to work on the e-commerce store idea. You scoffed at me for spending so much to do my work there. I was simply using this. I didn't want to say why at the time, because I wasn't sure back then if it would work. I did my feedback sessions (from the 4DX framework) there and plan out the week ahead. It helped me stay on top of my work while leaving enough time to learn new skills. This commitment to deep work is paying off for me with the current pandemic situation, as I can stay on top of my work while learning a new language and learn content marketing as well.​Tip #3: Schedule every minute of your dayPeople lack the motivation to do things because they do not know what to do (and when to do it). If you come up with a schedule full of activities focusing on lead measures, you will be very productive. Quite often, disturbances or emergencies pop-up that will ruin your plan for the day. It is important that you do not get frustrated. What you need to do instead is take some time off (after your distraction) to revise your plan for the day. I will share with you my schedule (which I revise weekly, earlier at Starbucks and now at my deep work desk at my home)​Tip #4: Be Lazy - Schedule breaks tooReason 1 - Breaks help you get insights on 'stuck' problem: There is a 2008 study by Ap Dijksterhuis called Unconscious Thought Theory. In it, Ap argues that 'contrary to popular belief, decisions about simple issues can be better tackled by conscious thought, whereas decisions about complex matters can be better approached with unconscious thought'. It means that, if you are stuck with a complex problem, it's best to take your mind off of it. You might have seen it in the movies - the trope where the lead character is unable to solve his big problem. He gives in to distraction and does something else. An unrelated remark by the bumbling friend makes him sit up and think. He says - X, You are a genius! and proceeds to work out the solution.Reason 2 - Breaks help you recharge: Stephen and Rachel Kaplan proposed that walking or even looking at pictures of nature aids concentration. They called it Attention Restoration Theory (ART). They validated it through a study done by Berman, Marc & Jonides, John & Kaplan, Stephen and published it in 2009. They let a bunch of people walk through traffic and another bunch of people walk through a park. They were asked to solve problems after some time. The one that went through nature did it faster. They repeated the experiment sometime later. The same people who went on the city walk were now on the nature walk and vice-versa. Again, the people who went on the nature walk were the ones who did the tasks assigned faster.You might argue that walking through a nature park is a pleasant experience, so they repeated the conditions in freezing weather. The people who went through the park still did better than the ones who went through traffic.Reason 3 - Without recharging, you will deplete your concentration muscle: This is simply the negative statement of Reason #2. People think that concentration is simply a question of will-power. Similarly think they will be a rich man one day but it is simply a question of setting their mind to the task. They could not be more wrong! Achieving something requires deliberate practice. And just like how elite athletes schedule breaks after a training session, you must schedule breaks in between your deep work sessions.​Tip #5: Embrace Boredom:Boredom is also a way to recharge your concentration. But a lot of people can only last a minute in waiting before picking up their phone. You see this in restaurant queues, grocery lines, etc. but lately, people do this even after they get seated at the table or in family dinners! People constantly crave something to look at. You might remember our mutual friend who was unable to make use of his talents. If you asked him to sit still for a minute, I bet he would crack in 10 seconds before reaching for the phone. Why is this behavior damaging? Because they deplete your concentration muscle!​Tip #6: Don't take breaks from distraction, instead take breaks from deep work. Once you are rewired this way, you'll soon crave deep work activities instead of craving breaks.​Tip #7: Memorize a Deck of Cards - It doesn't have to be cards, it could be anything - numbers, a new language, etc. It helps your memory and concentration.​Strategies for the office worker to include deep-work in their day:​Select the right network tools - People use a lot of network tools indiscriminately - Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Twitter, Slack, Reddit, etc. The list goes on. They justify it using the any-benefit approach:You justify using a tool if you can identify any possible benefit to its use, or anything you might miss out on if you don't use it.Cal advises you to use the craftsman approach instead: Identify the core factor that determines success in your professional and personal life. Adopt a tool only if it positively impacts these factors substantially outweigh the negative impacts.Take my case. I deleted Facebook as I decided that having both Facebook and Instagram would be redundant. De-clutter your life from tools that don't help you and eat away your time. And make sure to mute those notifications when you are busy with deep work as those pesky notifications will distract you.​Turn off the internet when you work - When you check the internet, even for official things, you will come across an e-mail or an article and soon you will start to respond to the shallow work instead of continuing your deep work. You might have instances where you checked the internet for sending an e-mail and ended up on BuzzFeed's 33 ways this cat made your day article! In our 30-minute scheduling example, you'd work for 25 minutes and take 5 minutes to check the internet and resume work again.​Leave the office at by a fixed time - Just as your cellphone leaves you distracted, taking a sneak peek at the e-mail after office hours, continues to work your concentration muscle. So schedule what time you will leave your office and stick to it. have a shutdown ritual - plan for whatever work is pending and move on to your home and stop thinking about work. Revise your schedule if you are unable to stick to it.​Become hard-to-reach during your deep work - Due to instant messaging tools, people expect you to reply immediately. It is gratifying for them; damaging for you. Sometimes they may be offended if they can't reach you. It is easier if you tell them an important reason Eg: I was working on something that the boss (or the CEO) asked for urgently.​Make people who send you e-mail do more work -Strategy 1 - Check out this contact form.Strategy 2 - If you receive an e-mail that says ' I read the article. What are your thoughts on it?' here is an example response"I will get a draft to you by XYZ date, I'll do my part and add comments for where I need your help. No need to follow up with me in the meantime or reply to the draft I send, unless of course there are issues with it.Strategy 3 - Don't respond. If it was important, they will follow back anyway. Unless of course, it is an e-mail from your boss or CEO.

[unifiedsocialblog]

10 Brands that Excel at the Art of the Comeback on Social Media

Engaging with audiences on social media is an important part of any brand’s communications strategy. You want your customers to know that you’re listening to them and that you care about their experiences and opinions.

Most of the time, helpful or positive replies are enough to keep your followers happy and build your audience over time.

Sometimes, however, it pays to take a risk. That means sharing content that could spark controversy, thrust your brand into the spotlight, or draw critical attention.

If you do them right, these tactics can pay off big time helping your brand establish its identity, win new followers, or stay ahead of criticism. But they can also lead to disaster.

How can you make sure your brand avoids disaster? By learning from 10 brands that did it right.

Bonus: Get the step-by-step social media strategy guide with pro tips on how to grow your social media presence.

1. Netflix always has a reply for critics

Does anyone not love Netflix on Twitter? Their social media is so good, it almost makes me forget that they no longer have Buffy the Vampire Slayer available to stream.

Even their pre-Christmas bio, a cheeky acknowledgement of one missing holiday classic, shows how well they know their audience:

That’s the key to their success on social: it’s clear that they share their followers’ passion for TV shows and movies. And they’re not afraid to get defend themselves, like when a follower criticized their description of Gossip Girl:

1. Everybody loves Gossip Girl.

2. Where is the lie tho?

— Netflix US (@netflix) December 11, 2018

They don’t play favorites with their programming either. When one follower questioned their retweet of an unconventional routine by Miss Toto from RuPaul’s Drag Race, they didn’t hesitate to reply.

yes.

— Netflix US (@netflix) December 18, 2018

They’re even ready to stand up for the infamous peach scene in “Call Me By Your Name.” That’s how much they love their movies.

quite the opposite.

— Netflix US (@netflix) January 7, 2019

Many brands try to cultivate a suave, cool voice on social media, but Netflix’s responses show that sometimes it pays off to embrace a weirder, nerdier brand voice. Their genuine enthusiasm for TV and movies allows them to connect with fans and followers, and it also helps to promote their content.

2. Merriam-Webster makes the dictionary cool

It might be hard to believe, but one of the best social media accounts out there is run by… the dictionary.

That’s right — the giant book you only crack open to settle Scrabble arguments. Somehow, Merriam-Webster has built a loyal following of more than 725,000 people by tweeting about definitions and grammar.

How did they do it? By seizing opportunities to inform and educate, with a tone that’s funny and confident, like your best English teacher from high school. Here are some of their most cutting clapbacks.

.@dannygonzalez Why don't you look words up before complaining to the dictionary? https://t.co/2HFnO4Y0aY

— Merriam-Webster (@MerriamWebster) January 17, 2017

People keep 1) saying they don't know what 'genderqueer' means

then

2) asking why we added it to the dictionary pic.twitter.com/wsGZ7Y6XB8

— Merriam-Webster (@MerriamWebster) April 25, 2016

If the dictionary can transform their public reputation from a dull reference material to a vital source of trivia and current events, there’s hope for any “boring” brand!

Take it from Merriam-Webster and look for opportunities to share timely, thoughtful content. Use clear language or emojis to make technical information accessible. And don’t be afraid to let your values show through your posts — you may not win everyone’s approval, but you’ll build loyalty and trust with those who choose to follow you.

Oh, and it never hurts to be funny.

We save all our hardcore, heavy metal content for Thursday afternoons. https://t.co/pTLZNSyNS6

— Merriam-Webster (@MerriamWebster) December 13, 2018

3. Sanofi fixes a PR crisis

Pharmaceutical giant Sanofi experienced every company’s worst nightmare when they were thrust into the center of a PR scandal in May 2018. Actress Roseanne Barr blamed sending several racist tweets on her use of the sleep aid Ambien, which is made by Sanofi.

Rather than trying to dodge the spotlight, the company responded swiftly to her remarks with a strong position of their own:

People of all races, religions and nationalities work at Sanofi every day to improve the lives of people around the world. While all pharmaceutical treatments have side effects, racism is not a known side effect of any Sanofi medication.

— Sanofi US (@SanofiUS) May 30, 2018

Their response went viral and garnered overwhelmingly positive responses. While they could have stayed silent and wait for the next medial scandal to redirect public attention, their decision to respond allowed them to turn a disaster into a win.

Keep hoping that your brand is never associated with a celebrity’s public meltdown, but just in case, it’s important to have a plan in place.

4. MoonPies seizes the mo(on)ment

The August 2017 eclipse was a rare cosmic event, and a lot of companies attempted to ride the coattails of public excitement with stunt advertising campaigns. But few were as perfectly positioned to do so than the aptly-named MoonPies. Rather than pulling together a big campaign of their own, they managed to achieve a massive impact with a single tweet:

Lol ok https://t.co/lobyuNOkee

— MoonPie (@MoonPie) August 21, 2017

It’s always a good idea to take note of upcoming occasions and events that align with your brand (a content calendar can help you there!). These are perfect opportunities to boost your visibility in the public eye and gain new followers.

But MoonPies proves that sometimes there’s value in a less-is-more approach. Rather than competing with rival campaigns, MoonPies broke through the noise with a funny, irreverent message.

5. Adidas owns up to an insensitive email

Is there a more awful feeling than realizing that you just said something really insensitive a moment too late? Adidas knows how you feel.

In April 2017, they sent an email to select customers with the subject line, “Congrats, you survived the Boston Marathon!”

While most would agree that running a marathon is an impressive feat of stamina, their phrasing inadvertently made light of the devastating Boston Marathon bombing in 2013.

My friend received this email from Adidas after the Boston Marathon… I don't know how an advertising team doesn't catch this. pic.twitter.com/Fe16Z4Hnvq

— Robin Dich (@RobinDich) April 18, 2017

Rather than minimizing or ignoring the situation, Adidas swiftly issued an apology.

pic.twitter.com/cdBKixwSqT

— adidas (@adidasUS) April 18, 2017

While publicly apologizing could have drawn even more attention to their faux-pas, Adidas managed to strike the right balance with their message. They didn’t deflect or minimize the impact, and they take responsibility as a company for the mistake.

As proof of public forgiveness, the ratio on their apology tweet is excellent. People on social media are quick to pile on when it comes to a public blunder, but a genuine and thoughtful apology can go a long way to restoring your brand’s good name.

Bonus: Get the step-by-step social media strategy guide with pro tips on how to grow your social media presence.

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6. Wendy’s is the reigning clapback champion

No roundup of social media comebacks would be complete without mention of Wendy’s, which may now be better known for their online sass than their Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers. They even wrote a blog post, patting themselves on the back for their best 2018 Twitter roasts.

Not really afraid of the burgers from a place that decided pancakes were too hard.

— FREEBACONATOR (@Wendys) June 11, 2018

Fast food restaurants are a competitive bunch when it comes to social media sass, but Wendy’s is the undisputed champ, always ready with a witty response.

@Wendys thoughts on @IHOb ?

— Gabe Kapler’s Coconut Oil (@GabeKaplersOil) June 11, 2018

Their strategy can’t work for everyone; Wendy’s has built their online reputation on being snarky, and 2.9 million people follow them for their merciless burns. Before you follow their lead, make sure sarcasm is true to your brand voice.

7. The MERL gains popularity with humor

Why does a small museum about the English countryside have more than 80,000 followers on Twitter? Because unlike other tiny museums about mundane subjects, this one knows how to build a brand using social media!

The MERL (Museum of English Rural Life) first emerged from internet obscurity in April 2018 with a delightful riff on the “absolute unit” meme. Even if you’re not a scholar of internet humor, you can still appreciate the artistry:

look at this absolute unit. pic.twitter.com/LzcQ4x0q38

— The Museum of English Rural Life (@TheMERL) April 9, 2018

Twitter users came for the chubby sheep joke and stayed when they realized this museum (and its collection of old farm photos) was absurdly funny. Suddenly, we were all fans of rural British life.

me at xmas dinner: just a couple roast potatoes please being good this year

me 5 mins later: pic.twitter.com/W93gtEQAh0

— The Museum of English Rural Life (@TheMERL) December 19, 2018

Just as marketers since time immemorial (or, okay, since the early 2000s) have tried to predict what content will go viral, social media managers are always trying to nail the formula for the perfect post.

In part, their tweets work because they’re so unexpected — who would think a museum account could be so weird and hilarious? But also, their content works because it’s unique. They’re drawing inspiration from their own archives and collections, which means their posts aren’t like anything else you’ll find on Twitter.

At the end of the day, social media users care about the quality and originality of content above anything else. If you’re sharing funny, interesting, or visually striking content, you’ll find your audience.

8. KFC proves that honesty is the best policy

In February 2018, KFC turned a PR disaster into a major win when 750 of their restaurants in the UK and Ireland closed suddenly due to a supply issue.

Fried chicken fans were livid. Local authorities even had to remind the public that a fried chicken shortage was not a valid reason to call the police.

How did they fix the fiasco? By taking responsibility, admitting fault, and being transparent about the issue.

In addition to setting up a website where customers could check if restaurants had reopened yet, and taking out some profane print ads to apologize, they also kept their social media followers in the loop.

There's gossip in the hen house, here's the facts… pic.twitter.com/lEuyiOZx2h

— KFC UK & Ireland (@KFC_UKI) February 21, 2018

Good news, over half of our restaurants are now back open! Our teams are working flat out to open the rest. Equilibrium will soon be restored. pic.twitter.com/ZXgijpBR7L

— KFC UK & Ireland (@KFC_UKI) February 20, 2018

As the head of brand engagement Jenny Packham said, KFC decided to “remain true to its brand voice” and apologize to customers, rather than hide behind a formal statement or point fingers at the supplier.

As a result, their fans and customers felt like there were real people trying to fix the problem, not just a faceless company trying to minimize a major problem.

9. Patagonia defends their environmental values

Outdoor retailer Patagonia is well-known for their corporate values around sustainability. And they’re willing to defend their reputation as environmental stewards when customers question their commitment:

Considering they are printed on 100% recycled paper with non-toxic ink, we do think that it's worth it to share our stories and photos with our customers. If you'd like to be removed please send your name, address, and customer number to customer_service@patagonia.com

— Patagonia (@patagonia) November 30, 2018

We didn't have a Black Friday sale as it promotes buying more which promotes more waste.

— Patagonia (@patagonia) November 30, 2018

But they brought new attention to their cause when CEO Rose Marcario announced on LinkedIn that the company was donating their $10 million tax cut—the result of changes to corporate tax rates administered by the Trump administration—to environmental causes. While many companies avoid wading into political territory, Patagonia took direct aim at Donald Trump with this comeback, calling the corporate tax cut “irresponsible.”

The tax cut is a contentious political issue, and their bold response did generate some criticism. But it ultimately drew a huge amount of positive attention to their company and practices, and reinforced their brand values.

Customers increasingly consider company values when choosing between brands. If you want to set yourself apart from your competitors, making it clear what your company stands for can be a smart strategy.

10. KLM improves the traveler experience

Airlines have it rough on social media. By my unscientific estimate, ninety-nine per cent of all messages they receive are from disgruntled passengers who are mad about flight delays, lost luggage, and disappointing mid-flight snacks. They’re a hard bunch to appease, but Dutch airline KLM does it better than anyone else.

In 2014, they launched a campaign to encourage customers to reach out on social media if they had lost items during transit. It kicked off with an adorable video featuring a dog named Sherlock returning forgotten possessions to happy travelers, which racked up over 24 million views.

Unfortunately, Sherlock isn’t actually checking flights for your forgotten headphones, but KLM flight attendants are. And customers still regularly contact KLM for assistance.

Big thanks to @KLM and the wonderful lost+found crew who found my #amazon #kindle and returned to me before flight today pic.twitter.com/uMvipnsHeW

— Andrew Lombardi (@kinabalu) October 17, 2017

Me: I’ll just leave my laptop in the seat pocket in front and have a quick nap before we land. ????

Also me: OMG I LEFT MY LAPTOP ON THAT PLANE ????

Fortunately, @KLM’s lost & found team & @Schiphol airport retrieved my trusty mobile office in under 20 minutes. ????

Thanks guys! ????

— Luc Dockendorf (@LucDockendorf) June 12, 2018

Promoting this option to customers has two benefits for the airline: it generates positive stories about returned items, and demonstrates their commitment to customer service.

Hello Nick, we would like to request our KLM Lost & Found Team to start a search for your lost item. Please send a Direct Message for this. Thank you!

— Royal Dutch Airlines (@KLM) September 10, 2018

It also clarifies how their social media team can assist customers. People often tweet at brands asking for help with problems that can’t be addressed in a tweet or a Facebook message, leaving the customer angry and unsatisfied with their unresolved issue. By telling people what their social media team can do, KLM has set themselves up for success.

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