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thefluentstudent · 2 years

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Hi! What’s your CEFR levels in the languages you’re learning?

I didn’t forget about this ask, I swear! It’s just the end of the year and lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my language progress in terms of goals for the new year. I just needed a little time to think.

I’ve never actually used the CEFR scale as a benchmark (mostly because I’ve never needed to). When I was in school my institutions laid out the criteria I needed to meet to advance and after graduation, I was so through with comparing myself to others that I never wanted to chart my progress like that. Also, in the US CEFR isn’t really used for anything and if I wanted to go to grad school here (or in China as I’d originally planned) there are once again other scales that’s be used (ie. HSK). Additionally, since graduating from college, my language skills have definitely backslid a lot 🥲 so don’t judge me to harshly based on the following:

- Spanish: In high school I got a 6/7 on the IB Spanish exam and thus instantly tested out of all foreign language requirements when I got to college. When I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with my life/ after giving up on being a business major (derogatory), I remembered that the most fun I had in high school was studying Spanish so I decided to become a Spanish major in college in hopes of becoming a Translator like I wanted to be as a kid. I was actually so good at translation that immigrant rights organizations would ask me to translate docs for asylum trials while I was still a student! (I also had beef with an internationally known Translator who deadass used to harass me and send me rude personal emails and even HE offered to write me a letter of recommendation if I wanted to become a Translator one day). All that to say that I have a degree in Spanish and have done academic research entirely in Spanish. The problem is: I don’t speak Spanish. At my peak, I would say that I was C1/C2 when it came to reading and writing but maybe only ever B1/B2 in speaking.

- Mandarin: In high school my friends taught me a full academic year of college level Mandarin while we were goofing around at lunch senior year 🤷🏾‍♀️. So when I got to college, even before I switched my major to Spanish I knew that I wanted to continue studying Chinese. I made it my minor and after not being able to take Intermediate 2 bc I was doing a program where I had to promise to only speak Spanish for the semester, I taught myself enough to place into Advanced 1 the following semester. Once I had taken all of the Mandarin courses my university had to offer, my teacher was nice enough to teach Independent Study for both semesters of my Senior year so I could keep going. Right before graduation I took the HSK and passed HSK4 (is that B1?) After graduation I worked in my city’s Chinatown as a preschool teacher and that def improved my listening skills. Then I moved to China and that drastically improved my speaking skills. I would say that I was maybe B2/barely C1 at this time. That was years ago and I haven’t needed to use my Mandarin since then so I’d say I’m probably back down to B1 now. I can still watch TV in Chinese without subtitles and read basic texts/ have simple conversations but it is all a lot more of a struggle than it used to be.

- Portuguese: I can read and listen at a high level but I can only say and write basic things. I did write a research paper in Portuguese back in university but I think that was a fluke lmao. A2 tops.

- French & Catalan: I would say that my levels in these are comparable but in different areas. I can read a novel or academic text in either with minimal difficulty but I can’t write with any accuracy in either. I’m good at listening comprehension in Catalan and conversational French but not vice versa. A2.

- Cantonese & Sichuanese: I’ve never sat down and studied either. Despite not being mutually intelligible with Mandarin (yes even 四川话) I picked up listening comprehension just by eavesdropping when I worked in Chinatown and Chengdu respectively. Can’t speak at all but can follow a typical conversation at native speaker speed. I don’t think that charts on the CEFR scale at all.

Sorry I’ve never been short winded a day in my life. 🫠 Hope that answered your question!~

#langblr #long post

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historic-old-guard-lover · 4 years

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How many languages and which of them would the cast speak if we’re going to be completely historically accurate ?

This a great question that I can’t quite answer, but I spent six hours researching to give it a shot. I think that there’s a broad range of plausible languages and you’ve got leeway to choose how many. The first part is that different people have different affinities for languages. Some people can speak ten different languages fluently (or near-fluency), while others will struggle juggling three different ones in their brains. The range in the languages can affect this, too: it’s easy to mess up between similar languages. I personally have trouble speaking Spanish because in the middle of the sentence, I’ll drop a French word without even realizing it. The same thing doesn’t happen to me in other languages like German, though. By the same token as I’ve discussed before, similar languages are easier to learn. Going from English to Russian with the Cyrillic alphabet? More difficult than English to French, which makes up about a third of modern English. These are languages that are still in the same family (Proto-Indo-European, PIE), though, so it holds nothing to the difficulty of going from English to a language like Mandarin.

I’m breaking this answer into two parts: 1) how many?; 2) which ones? and I’m going to get carried away because I’m me so it’s below the break to spare you if this comes across your dash and you’re not a nerd...

PART 1: What’s a realistic number for them to speak?

I think that each member of the old guard probably has a certain number of languages which they’re comfortable with, a few more that they can understand/get by in, and a few that they may only know phrases from. The number of each isn’t the same for everyone. The average human being is able to speak ~1.5 languages. The most talented polyglots can speak upwards of 50 languages, maybe one guy even spoke 65 (mostly I want to mention he loved translating the phrase “kiss my ass”). This hyperpolyglot, Kreb aka “Kiss My Ass” Stan, had his brain dissected after his death and it showed a lot of “abnormalities”. That leads neuroscientists and me to believe that being able to study and learn 65 languages is either 1) a major skill that rewired his brain because he was flexing it so much; or 2) very abnormal and facilitated by his brain differences. Since their powers don’t make them stop being limited by the human brain (they can forget), I would say that it is unlikely that one of them is fluent/near fluent/comfortable in more than ~65 languages.

Getting past twelve languages is considered a feat, so I think only Andy, Quynh, Nicky, and Joe could be anywhere near the upper-bounds of languages. Remember, these hyperpolyglots spend their entire lives studying languages and often need refreshers. The members of the Old Guard don’t have the luxury of reading grammar books all day, and they also have to remember a bunch of combat training. You can argue that a lot of fighting is “muscle memory” aka located in the cerebellum and nowhere near language processing areas, but there’s still things like math, navigation, etc. that they need to remember. I doubt they have a list of their safe houses just lying around. The older members can speak more languages by virtue of being around longer and having that time to learn, but if we’re being realistic they should probably speak no more than ~45-55 languages comfortably. This doesn’t mean that they only *know* that many, but the other languages would be more like bad high school Spanish in America than able to wax poetic. Aside: that Joe is able to be poetic in what is AT LEAST his fourth or so language is very impressive and we should talk about that more.

How Many Each Member is Maximally Proficient In/Knowledgeable Of at the end of the film/Opening Fire comics run:

Lykon (comics): proficient in ~15, knowledgeable of ~30*

Lykon (movies): proficient in ~45, knowledgeable of ~80*

Andy: proficient in ~50, knowledgeable of ~100**

Quynh | Noriko: proficient in ~51, knowledgeable of ~90**

Joe: proficient in ~30, knowledgeable of ~80

Nicky: proficient in ~30, knowledgeable of ~80

Booker: proficient in ~10, knowledgeable of ~30

Nile: proficient in ~2 (maybe 3), knowledgeable of ~5

*In the comics, he is younger than Andy and Quynh and I assume he dies young. In the movie, it is strongly implied that he was the oldest. The reason why his numbers are not larger, however, is because at some point there were fewer languages as humanity had not dispersed as much as it eventually did. He’s also long before written language which facilitates learning for most people. RIP Lykon.

**I’m not saying that Quynh is smarter than Andy, just that she comes after written language and it should be slightly easier for her to pick things up. I’m giving Andy access to more languages, however, because PIE alone covers Europe, Central Asia, and South Asia. More on this later.

PART 2: Which languages would each of them speak?

I’ve covered this question a little in a previous post that was broadly about proto-indo-european/Andy-centric (check it out if you want), but I’ll give a broader survey of each character here.

A Quick Aside on Lykon: We don’t know enough about this character, and the fact that the comics and movie diverge so sharply does not help at all. I’m going to headcannon that he was from Eastern Africa, where most archaeologists agree that modern humans first appeared in the Horn of Africa aka modern Ethiopia and Somolia and neighbors, and predates Andy by ~3,000 years. For future purposes below and assuming a birth date for Andy in the range ~5,000BCE - 4,000BCE, this puts his birth at around ~8,000BCE - 7,000BCE. This is wild speculation, however. Maybe the early immortals should be spaced by warfare types (Stone Age, Bronze, Iron, Steel?) or maybe they pop up once a cultural region reaches a certain historic point or maybe they just sorta pop up and then live for six or seven thousands years. I’m working off the last assumption because it’s the simplest. The only thing I’m certain of is that Greg Rucka probably didn’t sit down and think this pattern through. If I’m wrong, oh well. I’m mad at him for all his historical inaccuracies. With dating from ~8,000BCE - 7,000BCE, I’m having trouble finding a name for the cultures that scientists/historians know were living there at the time. It’s probably because the region has been continually occupied since the first humans, which one can safely assume makes abandoned and undisturbed sites hard to fine.

A Quick Aside on Quynh | Noriko: I like the film better, so I’ll be working with Quynh. If there’s enough interest, I can add on Japanese for Noriko. I’m going to date Quynh to be ~1,500 years after Andy (maybe this should be the new date system, before Andy “BA” and after Andy “AA”). This puts her in the time range of ~3,500BCE - 2,500BCE which could place her in either the Đa Bút neolithic culture of modern-day Vietnam or the Phùng Nguyên bronze age culture of modern-day Vietnam. Those names are archaeological in nature, based on the location where sites have been found and dated to those ranges.

Other Origins: Because we have diverging cannons, I’m going to just state the backgrounds that I’ve assigned. Joe is from 1066CE with a background in the Arab-controlled Maghreb (more specifically, modern-day Tunisia and Northern Algeria). Nicky is from 1069CE with a background from the Italian maritime republic and city-state of Genoa. Booker is from 1770 southern France. Nile is from 1994 Chicago in the United States. Andy is from ~5,000BCE - 4,000BCE in the Caucasus (modern-day Georgia and Azerbaijan) or the South Western Eurasian Steppes, probably the Shulaveri-Shomu culture assuming that location.

The first language everyone learned, their “mother tongue” or “native language” is one that they definitely speak. It’s the language that they think in and would be hard-pressed to lose. This even includes now-dead languages, because, again, it’s the one that they learned to think with. Of course, it is possible to lose a language when you have no one to speak it with if you wanted to do something tragic, but I think that these things are too deeply ingrained for it it to happen by accident.

What Each One’s First Language Would Be:

Nile: American English, possibly African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) at home

Booker: Provençal/Occitan, possibly “standard French” (school and other places outside the home)

Nicky: Genoese Ligurian/Zeneize

Joe: Tunisian Derja/Tunisian Arabic/Tunisian, and possibly one of the dialects of the native Zenati language group based on where more precisely you place him

Quynh: Proto-Viet–Muong (which isn’t well documented because it’s so old)

Andy: Proto-Indo-European (PIE), but if you’re curious the Classical Scythian Language for which she is probably named is only off by a factor of 10 (4000 vs 400 BCE) *cue distressed sighing*

Lykon: Proto-Cushitic (also suffering a lack of documentation from being old as heck)

Other than their first languages, what else they learn depends on where they go. People learned languages back then for the same reasons that they do today: to communicate (and to read, after the invention of writing).

Additional Confirmed or Likely Cannon Languages:

Nile: Spanish because of the American school system for sure. French is listed on the IG account, but she probably speaks only Spanish or French to a degree of fluency, definitely one better than the other. Very Basic Pashto, which we see her use some obviously-memorized phrases with in the film.

Booker: The IG promo things asserts that he knows (modern, standard) Italian and Greek. Why not? He also probably knows Spanish depending on where more specifically in southern France he is from. He’s probably also picked up on at least Very Basic Arabic from Joe and Nicky, but actually learning the language would take commitment from him. He also clearly speaks English.

Nicky: Other Italian dialects, and it would be fairly easy for him to have picked up modern Italian. He definitely reads Latin. If he was from a wealthy family, he probably also speaks Greek. If he was from a trading family, he probably speaks the trading pidgin of Sabir. The IG account confirms Arabic (vague, but okay I’ll be generous and say modern standard Arabic) and Romanche (they meant to write Romansh). I think Romansh is poorly chosen to characterize him in Northern Italy, but I’m feeling generous. He also clearly speaks English.

Joe: He definitely speaks standard Arabic to have been able to communicate with other Arabic-speakers in Jerusalem. Genoese Ligurian/Zeneize because of the love of his life, which also means he probably picked up modern Italian at some point. The IG account confirms Farsi (they call it “Persian” *cue screaming*), which works if he was a merchant who traveled far to eastward on the Silk Road...and if you go with the comic cannon makes more sense. I’m going to say that he speaks the Mediterranean trading pidgin Sabir because of his location in Tunisia. If he was from a wealthy merchant family and could afford schooling, he probably learned Greek and maybe also Latin. There’s a good chance that he knows conversational-levels of other native Zenati languages thanks to colonialism discouraging their usage. He also clearly speaks English.

Quynh: We don’t actually know if she speaks English, but it’s safe to assume she does speak at least some of it. She’s probably learned Vietnamese and Mường because of her mastery of their proto-language. Because I see her returning to modern-day Vietnam to fight the Chinese colonization, I think that she might know Cantonese or Mandarin. Based on her travels with Andy, I’d like to propose Greek, Latin, and Mongolian. I’m sure that Andy and her share a language, but who knows which one they were each speaking when they met!

Andy: The IG account says “all,” but I’ve discussed this elsewhere (*major eye rolling*). She almost certainly picked up Scythian and Greek based on her chosen name. Latin isn’t as likely as you’d think, but is possible. I’d like to think that she’s also partial to learning Russian (or some earlier form of the language), Mongolian, and Armenian. Based on her travels with Quynh, I imagine that she speaks Cantonese or Mandarin and Vietnamese or Mu’o’ng. There is some mystery language shared with Quynh, too. She also clearly speaks English.

Lykon: I really don’t know enough about him to hazard any guesses. He should share at least one language in common with Andy and Quynh. If his date of death is ~2,000- 1,000 BCE like I’m supposing, there’s a good chance that he only speaks one or two currently-named languages. Sorry, OP.

#asks #lovely anon #linguistics #neuroscience #the old guard #andromache the scythian #andy #quynh #noriko #lykon #yusuf al kaysani #joe #nicolo di genova #nicky #sebastien le livre #booker #nile freeman #nile

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superfreakerz · 5 years

Text

Caught Red Handed

"Caught Red Handed"

Rated T

Summary: Lucy thought she was safe gushing over a gorgeous pink-headed boy in Japanese. Turns out she wasn't.

“You got another perfect score on the exam?” Lucy asked, bewildered when her friend had showed her the test, full marks written in red ink in the top corner, along with a smiley face. Though by now, she really shouldn’t have been surprised. Levy was practically a genius, and when it came to foreign languages, she couldn’t be beat. Even after only a day of studying a language, she was able to pick up on sentence structure just by comparing different sentences. She was the university’s prodigy, surely going to be successful in life.

“Yep!” Levy replied with a cheerful grin. “What about you?”

“I got a ninety-three,” Lucy answered, her lips curling into a smile of her own. It may not have been a perfect score, but she was still proud of it.

“Good job, Lu-chan! Let’s go celebrate with some smoothies!”

“Okay!”

Lucy glanced towards her petite friend, her smile growing. Levy was her best friend, and despite only knowing her for the past school year, it felt like she had known her forever. The blue-headed beauty was kind, intelligent, and welcoming. Even though nobody could compare to her intelligence, she was humble and never made anyone feel down about themselves for not being as smart as her.

She met Levy the first day of the school year in the intermediate Japanese class. The two sat at the front of the class, often paired to do projects together. They bonded immediately over their love for books, and once Levy found out that Lucy was an aspiring writer, their friendship was sealed with a promise that she would be her first reader.

Since then, they shared classes every semester as they advanced through the Japanese classes the university had to offer. They were nearing the end of the program with only one last class to go before they finished. Through countless nights filled with kanji flashcards, vocabulary sheets, and loads of homework, the two girls were practically fluent in the language.

Lucy never would’ve guessed that she would eventually become fluent in Japanese. She loved watching anime on her downtime, but it never occurred to her to actually study the language until she went on a business trip with her father to Japan. Falling in love with the culture and hearing the beautiful language firsthand, she knew she wanted to take classes.

Since then, she started watching anime without subtitles, she made penpals living in Japan, and she was able to talk to Levy without most people understanding what they were saying thanks to the program being small. Most students took Spanish or French at her university, after all.

Reaching the smoothie shop, Lucy was surprised to find that it wasn’t packed with students. It was one of the most popular stores in their city, usually filled to the brim with customers.

“Everyone’s probably home studying since it’s final’s week,” Lucy thought with a shrug, following Levy inside. Luckily, she and Levy had already done most of their studying.

As Lucy approached the line, her feet stopped in their tracks as she noticed a boy standing at the end of the line. Heat rushed to her cheeks, her mouth dropping open as she ogled the boy. His hair was pink, part of his bangs spiked up. A strange scarf was wrapped around his neck. She could tell the texture of it wasn’t normal cotton or fleece, but she couldn’t tell what it was. He also wore a weird coat with only one sleeve. Oddly enough, he didn’t have a shirt on, showcasing a set of toned abs.

As he talked to his friend- another attractive boy with raven hair and an unbuttoned shirt- she couldn’t help but stare at his grin. It was so wide and cheerful, showing off his teeth. His smile was infectious, as she could feel the corners of her lips curling into a small smile of her own.

Feeling a light nudge on her arm, Lucy jumped as she glanced towards her friend. Levy gave her a knowing grin, wiggling her brows skillfully at her.

“He’s cute, huh?” Levy asked with a snicker.

“Levy-chan!” Lucy squealed, glancing towards the boy to make sure that he didn’t hear her. Luckily, it seemed he was too caught up in his conversation to notice them.

“What? All I’m saying is he’s cute!”

Lucy’s face burned red as she slapped a hand over her friend’s mouth, shouting, “Japanese!” If her friend was going to tease her about it, she could at least do it in another language so that he wouldn’t understand. Glancing over her shoulder to see if the boy had heard her exclamation, she was immediately met with a pair of onyx eyes. Whipping her head towards Levy, she tried to calm her erratic heart and drain the pink from her cheeks.

In Japanese, Levy said, “Come on, let’s get in line.”

Lucy nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. Standing just behind the boy and his friend, she gave a soft sigh of relief once the boy turned around to face the counter. Now that she wasn’t able to see his face, she could finally lift her gaze from the tiled floor.

“As I was saying, he’s cute,” Levy said in Japanese. “His friend is too. You should ask him out.”

“Ask him out?” Lucy repeated in the foreign language so that they couldn’t understand. They continued the rest of the conversation this way. “No way! We don’t know each other. He’d probably think I’m some freak if I did that.”

“Lu-chan, have you seen yourself? Trust me, no guy would ever think that. If anything, he’s probably trying to think of a way to ask you out in his head.”

“Yeah right.”

“It’s true. You’re a blonde bombshell. Every guy in here is drooling over you.”

“Blonde bombshell? You’re starting to sound like Cana!”

Levy gave a cheeky grin. “It’s true though.”

Lucy sighed. In an attempt to steer the conversation away, she asked, “What about you? Why don’t you ask his friend out since you think he’s cute?”

“He is, but he’s not my type.”

Now it was Lucy’s turn to snicker. “Oh right, your type is really tall guys with muscles bigger than your head, long black hair, and piercings just about everywhere. Someone like-”

“Lu-chan! Don’t say his name!” Levy shrieked, glancing around to make sure nobody heard them. Not that it mattered since they were still speaking in Japanese.

Lucy laughed at her friend’s red face. It was nice to get some payback.

Levy narrowed her eyes at her. “Besides, we aren’t talking about him. We’re talking about you and how you were undressing this guy with your eyes earlier!”

There was a quiet chuckle coming from the pink-headed boy, causing Lucy’s stomach to drop to the floor. Could he understand them? Slowly turning her head towards him, she breathed a sigh of relief as she found him engrossed in his phone. He probably laughed at a funny picture. There was no way he could understand them. If he did, he would’ve said something forever ago.

“I wasn’t undressing him,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes at her friend’s suggestion. With a playful tone of voice, she joked, “Though I’d like to.”

The two girls laughed as they moved up a step in line. The store was understaffed today, making each order take longer than usual. Not that Lucy minded. It gave her more time to ogle the gorgeous boy in front of her. Though, all she could see was his backside.

“Wow, Lu-chan! That’s pretty bold coming from a virgin!” Levy said.

Lucy giggled. “What can I say? The pink hair is working for me.”

“I’m sure those abs are working for you too.”

“Oh, they are. It’s weird that he isn’t wearing a shirt under his coat, but hey, works for me.”

“He is really fit. He’s even more fit than Dan.”

A groan slipped past the blonde’s lips. “Don’t even bring up Dan. I’m so glad he’s not in our class this semester.”

“Yeah, he was creepily obsessed with you.”

“He never got the hint either. Even though I kicked his ass whenever he approached me, he still asked me out every day.”

“What do you think this guy’s like? You think he’d be creepy like Dan?”

Lucy studied the boy for a moment before shaking her head. “No. First of all, nobody could be creepy like Dan. Second of all, he seems pretty carefree and easy going judging from his smile.”

Levy snickered. “You got all that from a smile?”

Lucy narrowed her eyes at her friend. “I can just sense it.”

“I’m telling you, Lu-chan, you should ask him out! I’ve never seen you so curious about someone before!”

“No way! He probably has a girlfriend already! I mean, look at him!”

“No way of finding out without asking him!”

Lucy shook her head. “Nope. Not gonna happen.” They took a step forward in line. She watched as the boy ordered his drink. His voice was heavenly, not too high nor too low. “I may not have the courage to ask him out, but I can definitely keep looking at him. God he’s so hot.”

“I’m sure that author brain of yours is coming up with some smutty stories right about now.”

Instead of denying it, Lucy played along, joking, “Oh definitely. My brain is just imagining all the things I would do to him if we were alone together.”

The two girls erupted in a fit of giggles, but their laughter was cut short as the boy suddenly turned towards them, drink in hand and a heavy smirk on his face.

Lucy quickly shut her mouth, warmth rushing through her body as he stared into her eyes. His gaze was so mesmerizing, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

And then, in perfectly fluent Japanese, the boy spoke.

“Oh yeah? And what would you do if we were alone together?” he teased, his body shaking as he tried to contain his laughter.

A cold chill ran through Lucy’s body, her stomach dropping to the floor as she gawked at the boy in front of her. Her brain was short-circuiting. Her face was set ablaze, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as if she had just finished running a mile.

“U-Uhh, I uhh…” Lucy stammered, trying to wrack her brain for the right words to say. What could she say? She was just caught red handed talking about him. Her words from before now haunted her. My brain is just imagining all the things I would do to him if we were alone together. How embarrassing! Why in the world would she even say anything like that? “I-I was just kidding!”

The boy laughed as if her mortification amused him. His friend glanced between the two of them, brow raised in confusion.

“Later, weirdo!” the pink-headed boy said in English, waving to her before heading out the door, his friend following behind.

The two girls were still, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“H-He knew what we were saying this whole time,” Levy murmured, now speaking in English.

Lucy absentmindedly nodded. “Yes. Yes he did.”

“Even when you said-”

“Don’t repeat it!” The red tint in her face deepened as she replayed the situation over and over again in her head. Each time she did, the angrier she had gotten. “Stay here. I’m going to go give that jerk a piece of my mind!” Without waiting for a reply, she was out the door in a hurry to catch up to the boy who had humiliated her. Luckily, he hadn’t gotten too far, only a few feet from the entrance.

Running up to him, she grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around, planting her hands on her hips to give him a harsh glare. Meeting his gaze, however, was a mistake as it reminded her of how handsome he really was.

The boy stared right back at her. He was bewildered at first by being suddenly spun around, but once he saw it was her, that playful grin was right back on his face.

“Yo, weirdo!” he greeted with a nonchalant wave.

His friend glanced between them. “Do you know her, Natsu?”

“Nope. But when we were in there, she was talking about how-”

Lucy shrieked, slapping her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it!” A squeal slipped past her lips as something wet slid against the palm of her hand. Yanking her hand away, she glared at him. “Did you just lick me!?”

The boy- Natsu, she had figured out thanks to his friend- glared right back at her. “You shouldn’t have covered my mouth!”

Lucy ignored him, turning to face his friend. Her brows were slanted as she pointed towards the shop. “You, go back inside. I have to talk to your friend.”

The raven-haired boy held his hands up in surrender. “Whatever.” Not wanting the blonde to take her wrath out on him too, he followed her instructions and went back inside the smoothie shop.

“Hey look, we’re alone now,” Natsu teased, the smug grin on his face causing a vein to tick in her forehead. “How about you do those things to me now since you never told me what they were earlier?”

Lucy’s blush deepened, her hands balling into tight fists. “You’re such a jerk!”

Natsu cocked his head to the side, his bangs sweeping over his forehead as he did. “How am I a jerk? You were the one talkin’ about me behind my back thinkin’ I couldn’t understand you.”

“W-Well, you could’ve told us from the beginning that you spoke Japanese instead of letting me go on like that!”

The boy’s grin returned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Lucy internally swooned at the look he was giving her. All of her anger- her irrational anger- started to melt away at the sight of his carefree smile. She wondered if he knew he could have the world wrapped around his finger with that smile.

“W-Whatever,” Lucy muttered, crossing her arms and turning her back towards him so that he couldn’t see how flustered she was. “I’m going back, jerk.”

As she walked away, a warm hand wrapped around her wrist. Her heart lunged up to her throat as she was spun around to face Natsu. Their faces were close, and all Lucy could think about was how her jokes from before- the ones about wanting to undress him- may not have been jokes after all. An ache grew between her legs as her gaze dropped to see how close his body was to hers, and how she longed to close the space between them.

“You don’t hafta call me that,” he said. When he finally let go of her wrist and shoved his hands in his pockets, she immediately noticed the loss of warmth. “You can call me Natsu, weirdo.”

Warmth spread through her body. “Well… Then you don’t have to call me weirdo. I’m Lucy.”

Natsu grinned at her. “Nice to meet ya, Luce!”

Ignoring the new nickname he had given her, she asked, “You aren’t mad at me?”

The boy arched a brow. “Mad? For what?”

“For the weird stuff I said about you.”

“Oh, you mean the sexual stuff?”

Lucy blushed. Unable to say anything, she simply nodded.

“Nah, I’m not mad about that,” Natsu assured her, his lips curling into a smirk as he continued, “It was funny. ‘Sides, I think you’re hot too.”

Lucy’s body burned, butterflies swarming around in her belly. With newfound courage, she forced out, “Are… Are you seeing anybody?”

“Nope. I’m single. What about you? I’m guessing you are too considering your friend was telling you to ask me out.”

She nodded shyly. “I am. Do you, uhh, do you want to go out sometime?”

Natsu’s grin was filled with confidence, but by the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, Lucy could tell that he was nervous too.

“Sure! Sounds fun!” he answered.

She eyed him skeptically. “Despite what I joked about earlier, I’m not putting out.”

Natsu wasn’t deterred, he only laughed. “Jeez, Luce! You gotta get your head outta the gutter and stop thinking ‘bout that kinda stuff!”

“I just want to make sure you don’t get the wrong idea!”

“I didn’t agree for that, I agreed because you’re weird. But in a good way. You’re funny and I wanna get to know you.”

Lucy swallowed thickly, warmth running through her body. “O-Oh. Good.”

“So? Gonna give me your number?” Natsu asked, handing her his phone.

“Oh, right!” Quickly putting her number in his contacts, she handed his phone back to him. “I guess we can figure everything out later?”

“Yeah. You should probably get back to your friend. She’s been watching us for a while now.”

Lucy turned around to find Levy’s face pressed against the window in the smoothie shop, spying on them as she stood next to Natsu’s friend. Once the blue-headed girl realized she was caught, she dove away from the window, most likely crashing into something and causing a scene.

Lucy sighed. “I should’ve known.” Turning back to Natsu, she gave a sheepish grin. “So… I’ll talk to you later?”

Natsu nodded and teasingly replied in Japanese, “Talk to ya later, Lucy. You can tell me next time what you wanted to do to me when we’re alone!”

Lucy gave him a heavy smirk, her confidence raised. “Why tell you when I can just show you?”

Natsu immediately shut his mouth, his face burning red. With a wave, Lucy turned and headed back to the smoothie shop, making sure to swing her hips with each step.

And though she wasn’t planning on putting out, she made sure to make a mental note to buy some new underwear for her date because she had a feeling Natsu was going to be seeing them.

#fairy tail #nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #ftfanficton #nalu fanfiction #crh #caught red handed #super writes

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amandajoyce118 · 5 years

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Friday Five: Women In History

Think of this Friday Five as a list of five women I wish Timeless had the chance to do episodes about. Why? Because it’s the last Friday of Women’s History Month. In honor of all the women who made history, I’m spotlighting five who often get overlooked this week. These are women who don’t get taught about in schools because, instead, we learn about their male counterparts. Or, these are women who had a big influence on a particular market, but few people know their story.

Five: Zelda Fitzgerald

I thought I’d start off with a woman that people are probably slightly familiar with, but maybe don’t know her full story. If her name sounds familiar, but you can’t place where you know her, that’s because she’s the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald. If you went to high school in the U.S., or studied American Lit at all, you probably read at least one of his books, like The Great Gatsby. What you might not know is that Zelda was as good as, if not a better writer than, her husband.

Her husband regularly wrote down things she said when recounting stories to friends, stole her journal, and all around copied her work. She “inspired” all of his heroines. So, if you actually like his writing, chances are, you really like Zelda’s. She was trapped in a loveless marriage. He cheated on her, but wouldn’t allow her to have relationships with other men. He also attempted to drive her to a nervous breakdown so he could have her institutionalized. All around, not a great guy there.

Zelda actually got an offer to have her journals published at one point, but because of her husband, she couldn’t. She retaliated by publicly reviewing his writing, penning, “plagiarism begins at home.”

Four: Andree Borrel

A lot of posts have gone around tumblr about the women who acted as spies and assassins during World War II lately. Andree Borrel didn’t go that route, but in her twenties, she was recruited to train members of the French resistance.

She actually started off trying to help in the war efforts on her own. She traveled from France to Spain to fight against Nazi work, but thought her efforts were meaningless, and made her way back to France. There, she took a nursing course offered by the Red Cross and became field certified to help in the hospitals. Since she was under 21 when she did it, the hospitals wouldn’t allow her to stay and volunteer. That is when she started working for the underground.

She started safehouses that helped British soldiers who were shot down, escaping Jews, and spies. Eventually, she and her friends had to leave France when their safehouses were compromised. They made their way to England where they gave full reports to MI5 and began working for the Special Operations Executive to help the French resistance.

Not only was she recruited for the French resistance, but when they sent her back to France to start her work, she was parachuted into the area. She (and her partner for the mission, of course) was the world’s first female paratrooper. She was excellent at her job, but she was eventually captured. Andree was executed in a French concentration camp in 1944.

Three: Willie Mae Thornton

Everybody remembers the names of the singers. The songwriters don’t get as much credit. Today, they get a little more because so many singers like to write (or assist in writing) their own music. In the day of Willie Mae Thornton though, she was the Big Mama (yes, that was her actual nickname) behind the curtain.

She first started singing in church, like so many people from the south. When her mom died, she had to drop out of school and get a job to help support her five siblings. Eventually, she left home to pursue a career in music. While she could supposedly “sing pretty,” if she wanted to, she preferred to make her voice “big” instead. In other words, she didn’t conform to what men in the music industry thought of as a feminine sound. She belted.

Willie Mae wrote and recorded music that other people made into hits. “Hound Dog,” made famous by Elvis Presley? She sang it first and it spent a few weeks at the top of the charts, but she didn’t see any real profit from it. Her record sold about 500,000 copies, which was big for its time. Elvis’ version became the hit, selling 10 million copies just a few years later. Likewise, she wrote “Ball n Chain,” which Janis Joplin made famous. She also didn’t get the profits from that because the record company owned the song, not her. Joplin, however, hired her to open for her as a way to give back what the record company took from her. (I feel like she should have split profits with her, but that’s just me.)

(Side note: I almost wrote about Rose Marie McCoy here instead. Like Willie Mae, she was a black woman who wrote hits for other artists. She also wrote songs for Elvis. By the end of her songwriting career, she wrote more than 800 songs, including commercial jingles. I think she’s a little bit more well known since NPR has featured specials on her in the past, but probably not by much.)

Two: Hypatia

Since the other three lived and worked in relatively recent history, it seems prudent to go back a little farther - like way back. I’m talking fourth century. Hypatia was from Alexandria, you know, where the ancient library was that we all wish had survived disaster?

Hypatia was a scholar in the time that women weren’t really allowed to be scholars. All of the stories and historical accounts of the era paint men as the heroes in Greece and Rome, with women as the people on the sidelines being fought over or worshiping deities in temples. Hypatia’s father, Theon (not a Greyjoy, Game of Thrones fans) wanted her to have the same opportunities as men in their community, so he made sure she was educated in science, math, and astronomy. Eventually, Hypatia became a teacher.

Unfortunately for her, Hypatia lived at a time when Christianity was spreading throughout the ancient empires. Though she didn’t seem to subscribe to one religion over another, historians seem to consider her a pagan. She was tolerant of other religions, and was one of the people outraged when Jewish residents were ousted from Alexandria and Christians began targeting pagans. She was murdered by a group of angry Christians during Lent. She wasn’t just murdered either. She was stripped, had her eyes removed, and then pieces of her body were taken throughout the town and burned. For no reason other than she was seen as an enemy of the political leaders at the time.

I’ll admit that the first time I ever learned about her was a result of doing my own research after “Hypatia’s chariot” was an artifact in Warehouse 13. Despite the few things I’ve read recently calling her a famous ancient scholar, or a feminist icon, I doubt most people know her name.

One: Sayyida al-Hurra

For a time when I was a teenager, I was fascinated by the life of pirates. Not in the romance novel way, but more in the what-drove-a-person-to-piracy kind of way. I think most people, primarily as a result of Hollywood, become passingly familiar with pirates like Blackbeard and Anne Bonny. Glossed over is the Pirate Queen Sayyida al-Hurra, who actually held a long standing alliance with Blackbeard.

She was actually born into a wealthy Moroccan family and married a much older business man. She continued to run his business after his death. Her family, however, was forced to flee from Morocco when the Spanish declared themselves rules and Christianity started spreading through the region. (She was Muslim.) Eventually, she became the political leader of Tetouan and married a king. She didn’t even travel to marry, but instead, made him come to her, which was unheard of.

Holding onto her grudge against the Spanish empire for what they did to her people, she used her political standing to slowly build her pirate army and take on their ships. She made her little country rich with stolen merchandise and selling the Christians she captured into slavery in place of her people. She was also the foremost negotiator when it came to releasing Christian captives. She was the person European nations contacted to offer up ransoms, so she only sold people into slavery if the European nobles weren’t willing to pay. Sayyida ruled the western Mediterranean while Blackbeard ruled the east.

Sadly, history doesn’t know what happened to her. Though she remained queen after the death of her husband, her son in law overthrew her, and then… nothing. I’d love to see a movie speculating about her fate.

Obviously, there are thousands of women who were important to history. I picked five that I have found interesting, and ones who aren’t usually present in more mainstream pop culture (like the ladies of Hidden Figures, for example) for this list.

That’s it for this week! Tell me about a woman in history you think everyone should know about!

#zelda fitzgerald #andree borrel #willie mae thornton #hypatia #sayyida al-hurra #friday five #women in history

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twelvesignsrp · 6 years

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congratulations logan, aries is now dane duclos with the faceclaim santiago segura !

Character Sign: Aries

Character name: Dane Duclos Birthday: 04/01/1997 Sexuality: Straight-Curious Gender: Male Moon Sign: Capricorn Faceclaim: Santiago Segura

Fire Absorption: The ability to absorb fire and utilize it in some way. It’s fairly straight forward, like fire negation, but I like the idea of his sign being under the house of fire that instead of destroying or dismissing fire—he could instead absorb it. I imagine him quench accidental fires, magical explosions, or generally take fire in a way to enhance him. Personally the only enhancement I’d want is when he absorbs fire he has a stamina boost. Like a extra shot of espresso or something. I know most absorption powers can be too wonky making the person invinicble the more than can absorb but for me… I just want it to be a leveling ability that can minor cancel problems while being minorly effective or influential for Dane.

Sub power—Thermal Control:The power is broad stating you can control temperature, lack there of aka cold or ice or an increased amount heat. Personally I can see Dane having the ability to do both but for now he can’t. Perhaps a few more months after Aries season he might, for now his powers are that of cold manipulation on the scale of Thermal control. Much like the beginning his absorption made the room feel cooler or the fact that lack of heat producing a cooling element—that’s only manifested cold/ice. Dane’s powers now can produce levels of ice, cooling the air, and generally lowering temperatures around him until a freezing point. It’s problematic since the more energy he uses to decrease other people’s temperatures or areas, the more his crave to absorb heat increases. It’s a double edged sword really.

What do they study: Architecture, I like the idea of him being in the department or school of design at Durham. For him architecture is this unlimited space to create something long lasting, to have a physical imprint on history. In high school is when he learned that creating homes to bridges, to the newest or most advance buildings gave him this passion he never expected to have. Before that his family assumed he’d go into law or politics, but the way he spoke about design made them lenient on letting him explore that.

Biography: (TW: Abortion, TW: Pregnancy )

Etched from the finest marble, details were in the hands of your master on that day since you would become their perfect creation. Son of a diplomat and a lawyer, he was shoved into a light he had to learn to soak up. For Dane, every moment from the age of nine until now has had a plan, a certain design to be finished out. His schooling, his friends, down to his extracurricular choices would pave the way to what he thought was his goals. His parents weren’t that overbearing as most would think, they were firm but supportive yet in the eyes of their son they were two of the hardest people to make proud. His mind clouded love as a test to pass. He took strides in everything he did to be the best—to climb the rankings as the one to look at. In his heart he believed he could do anything, that all the compliments and congratulations as a child were fabricated into the crown he wears on his head this day. He’d be royalty, he’d be the golden ichor that the gods spoke of.

He’d be unstoppable.

However one thing almost derailed that for him, the outlier to his future—the one girl that would have halted it all. Lillian Alcott was the one thing that he never expected. She was an angel with a vixen’s heart, she spoke in riddles, and caused every minute that Dane was with her to be complicated but intriguing. The straight forward, overachiever had met the one that didn’t fit into his world—which then became the one thing that couldn’t be unhinged from it either. For three years they dated, loved, and spent every moment working a way to have her in his life forever. Days would become months and Dane’s design for himself grew into a design for them. However The Fates were always fickle women, as it seemed he was destined for something else, as a choice; no a forced decision would cause the two to break. It was four months before graduation, before Dane would head to Durham on early scholarship and Lilian would attend a university close to him, when they found out she was pregnant. The news was tough at first but he grew to love the idea—as such Lilian grew on him. Once again he began to edit his plans for the future, until his parents got hold of what was happening. “How could you? Were you even thinking? You are too young!”; They’d argue and try to berate him onto their view points, yet Dane stood his ground. He wanted the child, wanted her, and didn’t give a damn about how he’d do it all—but he would. Disappointingly though, his parents with their wealth and connections would make that reality into a fantasy.

Graduation rolled around and Dane found himself alone across the stage. Months before Lilian would have found herself up state, losing the only reason that would tether their lives together any longer, and a promise to never come back at the price of his father’s bank account. Broken, confused, and bitter he tried to live out his last few weeks in his home town. with his family acting like nothing happened, until he could escape to college. To a fresh start. That was when he promised himself that nothing—no one—would cause him to give up everything he wanted ever again. His parents were distant from him, he continued to excel at what he did with pride and hard work, yet as every superficial accomplishment he gained his heart grew harder and harder. He began to replace dates with screwing others, replacing committed to casual, and focused on a life he thought he needed….a life solely about him and his ambitions. An empty one at that….

Five interesting facts about your character:

Dane is multilingual as he knows Canadian-French, Arabic, English, and Spanish

At a young age he was the youngest fencer to be nationally ranked in the top ten in over 30 years. He was fourth in Canada before the age of sixteen, and won several championships.

Thanks to his father’s position he has a clean record, not even a speeding ticket. Thanks to the little more than a decade of diplomatic immunity he and his family received. Dane is very much like a golden boy or boy-scout, cause he only pushes the envelope just enough to not break it but get what he wants.

He’s allergic to pears and white chocolate. Something he hated as a kid but now barely affects him. Though at times have asked girls to not where certain perfumes cause even the scent of pears makes him sneeze

Is a horror junkie and fanatic, being able to quote almost all the scream and Jason movies by heart.

Character Quote: “Got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in”

If your character had a patronus what would it be? and why?: Probably would be a hawk. Hawks are clever creatures but their precision to detail and focus is what makes me feel like Dane would inevitably muster up this corporal sign. Focused, executing plan lethally and effectively….yeah, reminds me of my boy a lot.

WRITING SAMPLE

“God damn it Imogen can you just shut up!” he screamed, causing his magic to lunge behind the girl—igniting, torching the lamp post. It was a long night and being forced with the girl caused his blood to finally boil over. At first spark, the fire caused her to jump on her heels and away from the accident.

“What the fuck Dane, control yourself.” she replied, like a viper, while her eyes cut deeply into him.

Seeing her judge him like that almost caused him to scorch another object around them, yet he took a breath instead. Almost as hot as he felt he exhaled while turning away. You’d think both signs, both ruled under their elemental house would have had a stronger bond—yet it was opposite. Their hearts and soul might burn with the same passion fueled by fire, but their minds were too differential.Sporadic, popular, care free…a child through and through, while Dane’s was fabricated, steely focused on the next task, aggressive. They were frankly oil and water, hell even gasoline and an open flame. Combustible, volatile, the two’s presence could cause others around them to feel the pressure and heat from the fire and vigor they could muster. Dane’s glances were still out and away from her, but with another breath he turned to look at her—more calculated and reserved. “I am under control, but I don’t think you understand how important it is to realize what’s happening to us; to all of us.” he started, her smug grin only making him want to smear it across her features. “This isn’t just ooooh we are witches or some shit, this isn’t fucking Harry Potter…what we have, what we can do!” his hand pointing behind her as the post was barely smoldering at that point. “We are dangerous….so fucking grow up.”

Would his words change her? Would they form chains of reason that would bind her to their world and not whatever world she vacationed to? Probably not but since the twelve had met things have been escalating, their powers were magnificent yet deeply strong. Some were more passive than the others but like Dane’s they were active,aggressive and made him worry. Was he the only one taking things seriously? Since most have been acting like they were still college students, still going to Frat parties, and cramming for studies. However his mind was clouded, his plans were altered, and this architect needed things to go as he envisioned them.

“Dane seriously, you need to stop worrying. All you do is bitch, brood, or suck any fun out of everything. This is a gift not some responsibility, so worry about that than all of us. You aren’t our babysitter.” she responded with such an air that it teetered or the truth and arrogance, “Even so, I think you are the one that needs more control.” smiling before she walked passed him and back into the party.

ANYTHING ELSE?

My favorite colour is slate.

#accepted #aries

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johnboothus · 4 years

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How Microagressions in a Sonoma Winery Made a Black Winemaker Question Her Profession

I fell in love with wine when I was in college in California. Good wine was easy to find, and it was easy to steal away to Paso Robles or drive up to Santa Barbara to visit wineries. When I graduated with a degree in engineering from Harvey Mudd College in Southern California, I contemplated going to graduate school for winemaking. Instead, I jumped into the wine industry, becoming a certified sommelier. I developed wine lists at James Beard Award-winning restaurants and worked as a sommelier at an establishment with three Michelin stars in Chicago. But after five years of working in wine, the nerd in me won out and I decided to go back to school for winemaking.

Never one to go for the easy option, I decided on a master’s degree in wine science at the University of Auckland in New Zealand, which I completed in 2019. By this time, I’d worked two harvests in New Zealand and had a diverse group of mentors and peers.

New Zealand’s diversity may surprise those who have never been. The U.S. is lauded as a country of immigrants, but in New Zealand it often feels like everyone just got here. My cohort at the university hailed from Australia, South Africa, India, China, and the Philippines. My WSET tasting group was made up of people from the U.K., Canada, and New Zealand. When my friends and I get together, almost every continent is represented. Our common language is English, but French, Spanish, and Italian are also spoken.

My Kiwi mentors are a mix of women and men, but regardless of their backgrounds and identities, they’ve always been supportive of me. They’ve shared their knowledge freely without ego or preconditions. Most importantly, they’ve listened to me, whether I’ve agreed with their opinions or not. If I dissent, it’s not the end of the world. We chat about it, learn something, and move on.

While studying, I worked as a cellar hand at a nearby winery. I’d gained practical experience but was itching to work a harvest in California. So I approached a small winery that I admired in Sonoma about harvest positions, and was accepted. In taking the role, I expected that I’d be treated with the same dignity and professionalism that I’d experienced abroad. I was wrong.

A RUDE AWAKENING

When I arrived, I was shocked.

I’ve never seen a city as monochromatic as Healdsburg in all my life. In the span of three months, I only saw 10 black people. That’s not an estimate; I counted. One was another intern, six were tourists, and three worked at the Napa tasting room of Brown Estate, one of the few Black-owned wineries in the region.

Where is everyone? Did I miss the memo?

According to the 2019 U.S. Census estimates, about 4 percent of Sonoma’s residents are Black, compared to more than 13 percent nationwide. But it wasn’t only people who look like me who were conspicuously absent; it was all people of color.

I saw a few POC around town but I was surprised at how few Latinx people I saw out and about. Sonoma has a high percentage of people from the Latinx community — 27.3 percent compared to 18.5 percent nationally — yet I only saw them when they were taking their kids to and from school, or in the grocery store. They were not shopping in boutiques, sitting at bars, or dining at restaurants. The town’s lack of diversity almost felt deliberate.

It was creepy.

Luckily, the family I was staying with was warm and welcoming. So, I shook off the bad vibes and tried to get acclimated. On a few occasions, I went to a dive bar that was highly recommended to me by wine industry veterans. When I went in with white interns, we drew a few stares, but I was able to relax and enjoy myself. When I went by myself? It was a totally different story. The bartenders were cordial, but a couple of the patrons scrutinized my every move, which made me feel anxious, and as if I wasn’t supposed to be there. It was hard to enjoy my beer, and I never went back.

There was another bar down the street that was far more welcoming — it had a big “NO BIGOTS ALLOWED” sign above its bar, and indeed offered a more hospitable atmosphere. I remember wondering: Why did anyone bother sending me to the other bar if there were more welcoming spaces for POC? The answer is simple: My white colleagues don’t think about it, and they may not even realize that racial bias exists in such an establishment. There are so few BIPOC in the industry that diversity and inclusion training likely isn’t high on the agenda at most bars — or frankly in most parts of the wine industry.

GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS

On my first day when I was completing my new-hire paperwork, the winemaker told me, “We aren’t going to make you sign an NDA like other wineries. But just know that we won’t say anything bad about you if you don’t say anything bad about us.”

That struck me as problematic. It’s difficult to bring awareness to and solve a problem if you’re never supposed to talk about it in the first place. There is this belief among some in wine that the industry has made strides in recognizing and moving toward racial equity, and doesn’t need to do anything further. However, one look at the diversity statistics shows that that simply isn’t the case. Tough conversations are the only way to get to a better place.

This can result in performative interactions. I was proudly told by an industry veteran I worked with that he “voted for Obama and listens to NPR.” In his mind, and those of other liberal white people I’ve talked to, there’s a belief that they’re not contributing to the problems of racial inequities in the industry; that they’re exempt from doing the work to address unconscious biases that might exist. It’s as if any discussion to the contrary will fracture the internal narrative they have about themselves, their friends, and their community. When that dissonance happens, they tend to shut down and get defensive instead of continuing the conversation. That leads to a standstill where no progress can happen.

SOWING THE SEEDS OF DOUBT

After our first week, I went to an intern party along with the winemakers from my winery. I was excited to meet people and to network, but it was a big disappointment. I was the only Black person there, but I was long used to that from my time in New Zealand. There are not a lot of Black people there, either, but my race never impacted how I was treated there.

I wasn’t used to this: “Where are you from?” someone would ask me. “I’m from Chicago, but I live in New Zealand,” I’d say. The person would furrow their brow. “New Zealand?” “Yep,” I’d say. “I went there for my master’s in enology and work as an assistant winemaker down there.” “Uh huh,” they’d say, and excuse themself.

It seemed to me that most people thought I was making up my history. They didn’t believe that I had gotten my master’s degree, that I lived in New Zealand, or that I used to be a sommelier.

Later, I overheard a white female winemaker whispering to one of the winemakers I worked with: “If she’s from New Zealand, why doesn’t she have an accent — and why is she Black?” I stepped right up and interjected, “Because I’m an expat.” “Oh, right … I guess that makes sense,” she said.

FIELDING UNCONSCIOUS BIASES

All the grapes that came through the winery were hand-sorted, which meant we were in for long days at the sorting table. We were all told up front that we’d get a slot each day to play whatever music we wanted while we sorted grapes.

“And I mean whatever you want. We had this girl last year, who’d only play pop music. And a couple years back, we had this guy who’d play the filthiest hardcore rap,” one of the winemakers said.

“Ha! Well, you won’t be getting a lot of pop out of me,” I said.

We both laughed and I thought that’d be the end of it, but it wasn’t.

Every other day for the first two weeks of sorting they reminded me that I could play “whatever music I wanted.” I think they thought I was listening to things they wanted to hear, but I’m into all kinds of things. Punk and rock are my go-tos if I’ve got work to do. They reminded me of the rap intern so much, I kept thinking: If you want to hear rap so bad, then play it yourself.

ESCALATING MICROAGGRESSIONS

Typically, it was just me and a team of guys working the sorting table. When you’re hand-sorting fruit for six-plus hours a day, seven days a week, for weeks on end, it’s preferable to work alongside people you can carry a conversation with. It’s absolute torture when every conversation is full of bias and microaggressions.

The person leading most of these conversations was an industry veteran. I’d been looking forward to learning from him. But it was clear that he already had our conversations outlined in his mind, as if on autopilot, and wasn’t looking for my input — or for a real discussion.

A typical conversation would go something like: “We had a little powdery mildew this year on a couple rows in this block so keep an eye out for it. What kinds of things do you see in New Zealand, Diana?” he’d ask. “We see powdery but a big issue for us is sour rot,” I’d say. He’d talk over me. “Yea botrytis is something we deal with here too in certain years. We counter it by – ” I’d interject. “…I said sour rot. We get botrytis too, but more often than not it’s sour rot.” He’d say: “It’s easy to confuse the two and a common mistake. You see botrytis damages the cells and then bacteria come in and do the rest. That’s what you’re getting.” “OK,” I’d say, knowing full well that the issue wasn’t that cut and dried.

For context, sour rot is caused by bacteria that find their way into split or damaged grapes. Botrytis is a fungus that can indeed cause cracks in grapes that allow the bacteria in. We had a fair bit of rain right before the 2018 harvest I worked in New Zealand, which caused the grapes to split and sour rot quickly took hold in our Chardonnay grapes. I remember the rains; I walked through the vineyards weekly and saw the grapes swell, retreat, swell, retreat, swell, and then split.

I harvested them and cut out the soft discolored berries. I sorted what was left in the winery with my peers to ensure no rot remained. I saw this phenomena in our student vineyard, the one I worked at, and other vineyards on the island. When I asked Kiwi winemakers what it was, they explained the complexities of sour rot, why it had affected this vintage, what to do about it in the vineyard, and how to keep it from spoiling the wine. That’s all to say: I was there. It was sour rot.

Yet the industry veteran wasn’t interested in hearing any of this. And while he had years of professional experience on me, it was insulting and demoralizing to have him dismiss my personal experience out of hand, as if I lacked the capacity to comprehend the difference between sour rot and botrytis. After a few sessions like this, it became apparent that he wasn’t interested in having actual discussions. I stopped investing energy in these conversations. They were a waste of energy and only upset me.

MISPLACED BLAME

Whenever I noticed something was out of place or a task unfinished, I’d correct it if I could and move on. It’s harvest, it’s busy, we’re all working long hours. Mistakes happen, and no one’s infallible. However, whenever the managers found something wrong, they’d always ask me about it first.

Dirty punch-down shaft? Diana, were you on punchdowns last night? Barrel room temperature control left turned off? Diana, did you do fermentation checks this morning? Labels put on the wrong side of a barrel? Diana, did [supervisor] show you how to properly label barrels? Fork-lift not charged? Diana…?

I will not pretend that I didn’t make mistakes. I’m human, I absolutely did. But I sure as hell didn’t make all of them.

I had never been blamed for so many errors in any other job I’d had. There were times when my denial wasn’t believed, and I had to point to work-order signatures to clear my name. This was distressing because it implied that they truly believed I was incapable of doing anything correctly. I take immense pride in everything I do, and I strive to avoid making the same error twice.

I can’t say with certainty why they constantly blamed me, but as the only harvest intern of color, the only female harvest intern, and the only American intern they’d had in years, I was the one who was continually singled out.

ASKING FOR HELP

After several weeks of microaggressions, false accusations, and gaslighting, I began to question myself, and the expertise I’d built over multiple harvests and a stint as an assistant winemaker. I raised my concerns with the winemaker, who listened, paused for a moment, and told me: “I don’t know why you and those guys never hit it off. I hear what you’re saying, and I’ll talk to them about it, but I’m sure that wasn’t their intent. Look, I’ve been doing this for a while now. Whenever something challenging comes at me, I keep going. Harvest is never going to be easy, but you’ve got to just keep moving forward no matter what. That’s what winemaking is: Making it happen no matter what.”

On some level, I get that, but if the only way to “make it happen” is by sacrificing my dignity and self-respect? No thanks. I’m good.

I love making wine, but keeping my head down and plowing ahead accomplishes nothing other than making it harder for the next BIPOC employee. Furthermore, the idea that I’m supposed to ignore what’s happening and take it because it’s harvest isn’t just offensive, it’s also a false choice. The last time I looked, addressing employee concerns doesn’t negatively impact wine quality. It’s called unconscious bias for a reason, and if we don’t bring awareness to it and have conversation out in the open, nothing will change in our industry.

By this point, it was late October and I’d been at the Sonoma winery since August. I started questioning if even I wanted to make wine anymore. Maybe I could get a job as a lab tech instead? I knew that if I continued on, I’d lose my passion for wine. We’d finished processing our last lot of fruit earlier that week, and they said they wanted to go down from three interns to two. I’d seen what I’d wanted to see and felt that I’d suffered more than enough. So I volunteered to leave.

MOVING ON

In my seven years in the industry, I’ve met dozens of winemakers as a sommelier and burgeoning winemaker. I’ve traveled around the globe. I’ve had deep engaging conversations with many legends in the business, and they’ve actually listened and engaged with me instead of anticipating or imagining what I’d say. I knew what I’d just experienced in Sonoma wasn’t normal everywhere — it was just the norm there.

But how many POC don’t? How many do one harvest, have a bad time, and then swear off the entire wine industry? How many Robert Mondavis have we lost? How many Paul Drapers or Heidi Barretts has the industry turned off through its intolerance? How many budding scientists who were interested in researching smoke taint? How many up-and-coming engineers with innovative viticulture solutions?

That’s what made me want to share my experience. My hope is that it will educate allies and wineries — especially smaller companies — on how they can be more inclusive and check their unconscious biases. My hope is that it will empower domestic and foreign POC to advocate for themselves should they be faced with similar situations. That this essay encourages them to ask questions in their interviews beyond the varieties produced and the winemaking philosophy of the places they’d like to work. That vintners and winemakers start questioning their unconscious biases and ask how they can support their interns and BIPOC staff.

I need to make one thing very clear: I love California. I’ve had too many good memories there to count. It’s where I discovered my love of wine and came of age. It’s where I thought I’d cut my teeth and carve out a name for myself as a winemaker. Instead, after harvest, I packed up my things and loaded up my car. I turned the key in the ignition and headed East on I-80 as fast as my Honda would take me. While I’d completed this cross-country journey back to Chicago several times before, that was the first time I left questioning whether I’d ever be back.

The article How Microagressions in a Sonoma Winery Made a Black Winemaker Question Her Profession appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/black-winemaker-microaggressoins-sonoma/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/how-microagressions-in-a-sonoma-winery-made-a-black-winemaker-question-her-profession

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

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How Microagressions in a Sonoma Winery Made a Black Winemaker Question Her Profession

A RUDE AWAKENING

When I arrived, I was shocked.

Where is everyone? Did I miss the memo?

It was creepy.

GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS

SOWING THE SEEDS OF DOUBT

It seemed to me that most people thought I was making up my history. They didn’t believe that I had gotten my master’s degree, that I lived in New Zealand, or that I used to be a sommelier.

FIELDING UNCONSCIOUS BIASES

“Ha! Well, you won’t be getting a lot of pop out of me,” I said.

We both laughed and I thought that’d be the end of it, but it wasn’t.

ESCALATING MICROAGGRESSIONS

MISPLACED BLAME

I will not pretend that I didn’t make mistakes. I’m human, I absolutely did. But I sure as hell didn’t make all of them.

ASKING FOR HELP

On some level, I get that, but if the only way to “make it happen” is by sacrificing my dignity and self-respect? No thanks. I’m good.

MOVING ON

The article How Microagressions in a Sonoma Winery Made a Black Winemaker Question Her Profession appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/black-winemaker-microaggressoins-sonoma/

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slapmeagain-blog · 4 years

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COVID-19 Life

9 April 2020

Spain, Greece, losing my virginities..... and my fears.

Happy 80th birthday Sally! Sally is one of my friends from Waverley, PA, with whom I had the pleasure of joining as part of a group of 9 of us who traveled together to Greece for two weeks a couple of years back organized by my BFF Suzanne Staples. It was a really great trip. We had a big van, a driver (Costas) and a guide/historian (Mara) and visited all the usual places, from Athens and Evia to Corinth, Kalamata to Delphi, Olympia, Marathon, into the mountains and by air to Santorini. I hadn’t spent that much time enjoying Greece since 1970 - wow - 50 years (very sobering).

I first went to Greece as part of a student group in 1970. We spent two weeks in Italy, and then 4 weeks in Greece. We were studying Greek and Roman civilization, architecture and art. Probably my very best memories from high school. The year before I had gone to Spain on a similar program - six weeks at the University of Salamanca. I was in awe of the French kids who smoked Gitanes in class. There we studied Spanish as well as history. Summer of 1969 was a blockbuster back home in the US. We had both the moon landing and Chappaquiddick! As 16 year-olds, we were basically clueless except for where to get wine, pot, and trying to have our first sex. (I accomplished all three, even if I didn’t know at the time that my first sex was with the wrong gender!) Oh, and my sister, at home in LA, dropped acid, got divorced, then pregnant and then my mom remarried and moved to Hawaii, leaving me to finish my senior year in Hawthorne “At Home Alone”. In Salamanca, I also had my last recurring nightmare, dreams that I had had since I was 2-3 years old (which involved a lot of sleep walking, night terrors and peeing on or in assorted pieces of furniture including my clothing drawers, the clothes dryer, a TV and a long walk alone at 2 a.m. to the local mini-market when I was 5 or 6. I managed to find my way back home when I woke up -- ran the whole way -- and went to bed without being discovered. My parents did put a chain lock on the front door, well out of my reach, after that. I found it interesting that those nightmares went away at the exact same time I stopped living with either of my parents.

Early in the week, here in the Hudson Valley, we enjoyed a couple of warm days, close to 70, and I have worked more in the gardens around the property, clearing remaining leaves and dead plants. Yesterday was gloomy, though not cold, and today we are getting a decent amount of rain. I’m finding that if I can spend a couple of hours a day working in the gardens on sunny days, I can keep up with what needs to be done, and I’m enjoying it very much. My dad used to do the same. He’d knock off work by 2 p.m., come home and spend a couple of hours in his gardens, then settle down to watching “Ellen” and “Dr. Phil” with mom. I hope I never enjoy watching TV like they did. Thank god programming has expanded to include so many mini-series and cable TV shows which are actually not bad.

Still having nightly cocktail hours on Skype with friends. Last night I checked in with the Weisbergs, then we had a 6 person call with Italian friends, then on my own I Skyped both grandkids (individually), and an old UH-friend from the late-70s in Bel Air, and finally B&B/F&F. We also made pizzas at home last night.

I think I am finally slipping into a routine that works. I should be looking for ways to get more exercise, yoga is probably my best best, and walking, besides the gardening. I read somewhere that gardening counts as exercise! Chinese classes started on Tuesday night via Zoom, and it was actually very good. I loved that I can fill a coffee cup with wine and sit there in front of the screen and learn a language with a beautiful new teacher and 5 classmates from last term. I hope we get to continue to learn via video, even after COVID goes away!

Waking up between 7-8 a.m. without an alarm and enjoying getting ready for the day with no sense of urgency. Showering, shaving, nails, teeth, hair, clothes, coffee, news, check email, process cancellations at the B&B, set up calls for QWZRD. I have this blog, and Chinese homework.... we’re starting to learn to write!! Finishing up a new history of Brooklyn (reading, not writing). Lunch today -- thinking of plant-based burgers or pad thai, and I also bought ingredients for stir-fried eggplant and ground ‘pork’ with garlic, chilies and honey. One of my favorite Chinese dishes. Then a nap (probably), some more work on the computer or reading, then cocktails! Life could be much worse. We are so fortunate.

And on the subject of how life has changed, I had a scheduled 4:30 p.m. video conference call with my PCP at 8 p.m. last night -- I feel so bad for the health care workers right now. And it was just for a prescription refill. Used to be you could just send in an email and then go to the pharmacy and pick it up, but now they are requiring video calls with the doctor to get a refill. I have 5 prescriptions. I think it’s a huge mis-allocation of resources to make the doctors talk to every patient before refilling a prescription!

Less important but nonetheless annoying, is that the plastic bag industry seems to have convinced politicians that plastic single use bags (which were recently made illegal in NY) are safer than the bags we were bringing to the supermarket for our groceries in this time of COVID! And, the cashiers, for the most past aren’t using any personal protective equipment (PPE - another new acronym!), masks or gloves. Everyday is something new.

And, two masks arrived for us yesterday. Ordered them 3 weeks ago.

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madridandsophia · 8 years

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19 de febrero-The Big News

Hey everyone!!! Many of you may know me, but for those who don’t, let me introduce myself. My name is Sophia Broadhurst. I am currently 15 years old, living in Lansdale, Pennsylvania. Recently, I was selected to become the 2017-2018 exchange student for my school, to be living in Madrid, Spain, for 10 months. However, this incredible opportunity did not come quickly or easily in any way.

For me, my Spanish experience started back in 7th grade. All of the students had to take a marking period of the 4 languages we were offered at Penndale: Spanish, French, German, and Latin. In my 8th grade year at Penndale we were expected to choose one of those 4 languages that we wanted to major in. Obviously, I chose Spanish. Immediately, I fell in love with the Spanish language, culture, and ideas. The class soon became one of my easiest and favorite classes. I looked forward to going there everyday.

This continued during my 9th grade year where I first started learning more about the exchange program our amazing high school had to offer. Obviously, I had heard things mentioned about the program before, but the realization that I wanted to try for the opportunity truly hit me in my freshman year. My neighbor, Nolan, and my friend, Taylor, were selected in their sophomore year to study in Spain and were currently living there and having the time of their lives. Seeing them experience this showed me how bad I wanted this incredible opportunity that would open to me in the following year (10th grade).

Then came December 2016 (my sophomore year). More and more information on the exchange program had started to come out. Presentations were being shared in my classes, parent meetings were being held, and before I knew it, applications were being sent out. I spent all of December working on my application, writing my essay, and getting my teacher recommendations filled out. Honestly, it was a very very long and hard process but I am so glad I kept pushing through it. I finally had the relief of handing in my application, but then came the wait for interviews...

Usually I am very comfortable with speaking in front of people, but with so much depending on this interview I was going out of my mind. I had my interview on January 31st and I was so unbelievably nervous for it. After coming out of my interview, I personally thought I did horrible. The committee members were all so nice and welcoming but 6 extremely important people all staring in your direction at once is soooo intimidating. However, I guess I didn't do as bad as I thought I did because 2 weeks later, I was informed of some exciting yet terrifying news. Due to the amazing applicants and difficulty deciding on one person, the committee decided to conduct a 2nd interview (oh boy not another one) with 4 highly qualified finalists. Being one of those finalists, I got a letter stating my 2nd interview would be held on February 13th at 5:45 p.m. I was so honored and grateful to be getting another shot to prove why I should be the Spanish exchange student. Although I was so nervous for yet ANOTHER interview, I actually felt a lot more confident and comfortable going into it. I was familiar with the interview process and knew what to expect. I spent my entire weekend (no joke) looking up interview tips, researching my school in Spain,and even looking up breathing tips to calm my nerves. Anyway, that Monday night I went in for my 2nd interview and I thought it actually went pretty well!!! Then the wait began...

As the week crept on, the waiting started becoming unbearable. I couldn't sleep or focus in school. The only thing on my mind was who they would pick. All of us were waiting to hear some type of news about what would happen. Finally, on Thursday, February 16th, the waiting would come to an end. On this day we had two 8th periods due to a school assembly. I walked into my first 8th period class and my teacher handed me a pass for the end of the day signed by Herr Baker (IFC committee member). I knew this was it. The news we had all been waiting for.....Spain or no Spain. In an hour and a half I would be finding out news that would either change my life, or devastate me. The emotions started immediately and I started crying in front of my entire class. My class and teacher were all comforting me and helping me take my mind off it for the remaining time. We went down to the assembly and I kid you not when I tell you I did not hear a single word of it. I was shaking so bad and counting down the minutes until I would find out. Nolan (my neighbor and previous exchange student) was sitting next to me and was just as nervous as I was to find out the big news. After an eternity of waiting, it was time for me to cross the school and find out if I would be going to Spain (K-pod to B-pod= longest. walk. ever.). Shaking, I walked into the classroom of B123 and there were 2 committee members standing in there. They greeted me nicely and then said, “Well, we wanted to be the first to congratulate you. You have been the student selected to represent North Penn next year in Madrid, Spain.” .......... At this moment every single emotion crossed my mind. I put my hands up to my mouth in disbelief and start bawling. After I calmed myself down a little, the biggest smile came over my face and wouldn't leave. I thanked them a million times. I honestly couldn't get any other words out of my mouth because of how shocked and grateful I was. I walked out of that classroom smiling ear to ear and immediately called my parents to tell them the amazing news (lots of waterworks from my Mom hahah). I walked back to my 8th period and told them I was going to Spain and everyone started cheering. It was so amazing. I told my best friends who all came to congratulate me and give me big hugs. After school I went to track practice and got to tell them the incredible news. My amazing Spanish teacher even came to visit me at practice to congratulate me and give me a big hug. :) The rest of the day consisted of disbelief, happiness, shock, and the smile on my face that would not go away. I was going to Madrid, Spain, in Europe, a completely different continent, 3,660 miles away.

I am now sitting here 3 days later typing this and I am still in shock. This time next year I will be on another continent with a new culture, new people, a new language. I am so eternally grateful for this amazing opportunity and the support of my friends and family. I cannot even begin to explain how excited I am to take on my dream. I know it will be challenging. I know I will have my hard days. I know there will be days when I feel lost. But I am strong. I have spent my whole life becoming the person I am today. I work hard to set goals for myself and achieve them. Spain is my new goal and I will achieve it.

I will be updating this blog and sharing my story as the next couple of months unfold. Obviously, I will have a lot more to write about as my departure gets closer. But I will update if any other important events happen. I want to share my experience with others as much as I can and I hope to encourage others to follow their dreams too. With that, I have set up an email that I will be using during my journey. Feel free to email me anytime with questions, thoughts, concerns, or ideas for my adventure in the months to come. I’d be happy to answer any of them! My email is [email protected]

Hasta luego!!! xoxo

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mairauders · 7 years

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that does suck, yes. so u have 2 years of high school? what about before. did u attend 2 other types of school (maybe elementary and middle school)? luckily, the program in my country's system allowes us to have exams in any subject we want. my cousin even has it in economy. but you're right on the last point. i really have to try hard this year for good grades and in the end exam to get on good uni that i want. and that's really cool! i've never met a lithuanian before. i come from slovenia :)

well, we have 4 years of elementary school (from age 6/7), then 4 years of middle school, and 4 years of high school. so in general we have 12 years of education, but the last 2 years aren’t mandatory exactly (we have exams at the end of 10th grade, and if you want you can not attend the last 2 years, and instead go to a profession school or smth) tho almost everyone chooses to continue the studies and get a normal diploma.

we have economics as well, tho i didn’t choose it. each of us had to choose subjects at the end of 10th grade and we all had to have: lithuanian, math, P.E., ethics or religion, at least 1 humanities subject (history and/or geography), at least 1 subject from natural sciences (biology, chemistry and/or physics), at least 1 arts subject (here we have more options tho the curriculum isn’t particularly well development, hence the focus on math and s.t.e.m. in general), english and if you want some other language (either russian, french, german or spanish). you can also choose IT and economics, tho i’m not sure which category those belong to. so in the end we end up with like 11 different subjects instead of focusing on, like, 3 for the course we’d like to study at uni. that’s why i want to take sociology, psychology and poltics as A-Levels in the UK.

you’re gonna do great. i believe in you ♥♥♥ i’ve never met anyone from slovenia either!! ♥

#secret santa #answered #anonymus #jtsecretsanta

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attractionjapan · 7 years

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The Birth of Japan Game: Episode 2: The Backstory

The Birth of Japan Game is a chronicle in ten parts, recounting the early years of Dorian Gray’s journey along the path. The narrative begins some time in 2006 and concludes in early 2012. Names have been changed to protect the guilty and innocent alike. Previous episode here.

Let’s flash back to two years before I met Momoka, when I was a tall, lanky eighteen year old with a forgettable face and dreamy disposition. When I wasn’t working deadening rock bottom jobs such as cleaning hotel rooms, I had my head buried in a book. I’d had girlfriends before and the occasional one night stand – okay, “drunken hook-up” is more accurate; I don’t believe teenagers can actually have a “one night stand,” which sounds like something a heavily sweating, hard-driven lawyer might do with an aging beautician after meeting in a hotel bar – but I was prone to depression and easily became discouraged; my identity did not allow for the active, much less aggressive, pursuit of women.

I first encountered Japanese people while wandering the campus of my university in Australia as a first year student. I’d moved to the city from a small town and had few friends, so instead of sitting in my room all day I decided to walk about and see if anything interesting was happening. I was awkward and naive but desperate to live; my high school years had been burdened by my failure to connect with the right crowd and the girls I wanted most. Now it was time for a new beginning. I’d even started visiting bars and clubs in the city, though I was usually too nervous to do much but stand around like a spectator.

It was the start of the first semester. The weather was sunny and clear, and students filled every corner of the campus’s open lawn. There were food stalls from other countries – Singapore, Malaysia, India – and hundreds of girls, both domestic and foreign: bronzed Australians in mini shorts, tall African goddesses, severe-looking European blondes with high cheek bones, and all manner of Asians. While walking across the grass I noticed a small group of the latter sitting in a circle and enjoying chicken kebabs from one of the stalls. On impulse I sat down and introduced myself to a young man with a mop of shiny black hair. His English was halting at first, but he seemed eager to talk and introduced himself as Hayato, an exchange student from Kyoto. He’d arrived in Australia two months earlier. Soon we were deep in conversation, drawing amused stares from the other Japanese students. I confessed to an almost total ignorance of his culture, and he promised to explain it to me if I’d help him with his English.

The part about my ignorance wasn’t strictly true. Like many my age, I’d grown up on Nintendo, and I enjoyed the occasional anime or Japanese film – the works of Takashi Miike and Takeshi Kitano being particular favorites. But my image of Japan had been formed entirely by the motley assortment of cultural products that had made it through to the West; I saw it as a land of flashing lights and flying ninjas, a garish mixture of the rigidly traditional and surreally post-modern. It was a land of raw fish and flashing arcades, unreadable glyphs and gleaming perversions. I hadn’t given any thought to the everyday lives of the Japanese; hadn’t, in fact, seen them as people at all. There had been no Japanese or other Asians in my small hometown, so I’d never had to test my preconceptions against reality. On a whim I’d joined the campus Anime Club, but had found it full of social misfits with doubtful hygiene – not the best place to make friends. Most of the members were bitter cosplaying lesbians and obese shut-ins unable to make eye contact. I stopped going after the second meeting.

Later in the week Hayato invited me to a party at his flat with the other exchange students, and our friendship developed quickly. I helped him with his English, often completing entire assignments for him, while he introduced me to his culture – and more importantly, his psychology. Hayato (who is now the editor of a major Japanese newspaper) was a clever and sometimes cruel young man who enjoyed amusing himself with his wide-eyed Australian friend. He taught me all kinds of obscenities which he claimed were common greetings, and I dutifully repeated them to the female exchange students, earning some truly shocked and withering looks. But he was right about Japanese food, which I quickly came to love: the subtle flavors and tart simplicity, how I could eat as much as I wanted without feeling full. I learned the names of all different kinds of sushi – toro, maguro, ikura, uni, buri, engawa – fish whose names I barely knew in English.

But Hayato’s greatest gift, and one of the most decisive influences on my life, was his encouragement to learn Japanese. The first time he brought it up I smiled and nodded but dismissed him immediately: how could anyone really memorize thousands of kanji characters and the fiendish intricacies of that alien, arcane grammar? I’d picked up remedial French and Spanish in high school, but at least those used the Roman alphabet. Japanese was uncharted territory, and nothing I knew would be of any use.

“You’ll pick it up quickly,” Hayato assured me. “Don’t worry – we’ll all help you. Once you get a Japanese girlfriend it’ll be easy!”

I was just naive enough to believe him, and the next semester I enrolled in an introductory language class. My motivation was as much practical as idealistic; my Media Studies degree was looking increasingly useless, and I wanted a certifiable skill I could write on my resume. The prospect of a future translation job seemed incentive enough to continue. Speaking a bit of French and Spanish seemed trivial in comparison with reading a Japanese newspaper or watching a Kurosawa film without subtitles, and the fluent Australian students in the classes above me struck me as incredibly worldly and sophisticated. Many of them showed me pictures of their Japanese girlfriends, some of whom showed up to meet them after class. I was certain that at last I was on the right path.

Learning Japanese proved to be an adventure beyond the scope of this book – those interested are advised to consult the numerous websites on the theme. The language was demanding but curiously logical – more so, in fact, than English, with its numerous irregular verbs and irrational spellings. As expected, the kanji writing system was the biggest challenge, but even it yielded unexpected felicities. Once I cleared the initial hurdles, I discovered that a pictorial rather than phonetic writing system made sense in ways I hadn’t imagined. I gained a feel for the character combinations and learned to figure out the readings of unfamiliar words. The language, which had once been forbidding and inaccessible, became practical, even poetic.

More importantly, learning Japanese was my key to understanding Japanese culture. I was suddenly introduced to an unsuspected world of music and film, art and fashion. Why had I never heard of Ayumi Hamasaki and Shiina Ringo? Or read FRUiTS magazine, with its cavalcade of front-line Harajuku fashions? What about the Shibuya-kei music scene of the 1990s with its links to French pop and American indie? Japan was no longer a cliched planet of craziness, it was an entire world with its own codes and jokes, clothes and trends and thousands of years of history. I took another language class, and another, and then ones on culture and economics. Before I knew it I’d taken on a whole new major: Japanese Studies.

While all this was happening, I maintained my close association with Hayato and the other exchange students. Most of them were a few years older than me, and looking back I can see that they thought of me as a little brother, pardoning whatever ridiculous cultural faux pas I made and indulging my fumbling attempts at speaking their language. All of us lived in the university’s student housing, so it was always easy to meet up for drinks and study sessions. Sometimes they invited me over for massive fry-ups of Japanese dishes I’d never heard of, like okonomiyaki and takoyaki – or in other words, savory cabbage pancakes and deep-fried chunks of battered octopus. They’re both much better than they sound.

The student housing was filled with young people from countless different countries, and in addition to my Japanese friends, I picked up all kinds of knowledge from Ethiopians, Mongolians, Indians, Malaysians, and a variety of Europeans. And of course, there were other Australians. One of them, Daryl, was a slick character with a salesman’s smile and natural Aussie charm. He had no interest in Japanese language or culture but still hung around the exchange students, often showing up at parties and dinners. I was a bit suspicious of him at first, but he seemed harmless enough.

Before long my thoughts returned to what Hayato had said about getting a Japanese girlfriend. Obviously a personal language partner would be helpful, but I already had several competent teachers, and now I wanted a cool girl I could connect with. And so I considered the female exchange students. One of them, Tomomi, was more attractive than the rest. The others were short, squat and a bit chubby, and they didn’t seem to bother with makeup or suggestive clothing. Only Tomomi commanded attention. She was tall, with a curvy figure and a mischievous face that suggested a preference for partying rather than studying in her room. I decided that I had to make her mine, even though I had no idea how. She was in my social circle, if that term could be applied to the loose crowd cohering around the student flats, but it never occurred to me that I could simply knock on her door and invite her to dinner. My earlier overtures to girls had been either laughably grandiose – I once sent a girl an enormous, needlessly expensive bouquet of flowers, and wrote poems to others – or so subtle that they never registered at all. I was about as far from a natural as anyone could be. Still, I felt certain that if I remained in Tomomi’s orbit, the right chance would come for us to connect.

So I was taken aback, as you might imagine, when Daryl started fucking her.

His tactic had been everything mine wasn’t: casual but fearlessly direct. He’d gone around to her apartment with some drinks, and before long they’d started making out. Within a few days they were inseparable.

I’d been beaten to the punch, and I wasn’t happy. Predictably, I became depressed and moped around for days.

“Don’t feel so bad,” Hayato reassured me. “There are lots more like her.”

He wasn’t wrong, and the next year, when he returned to Japan, Hayato made good on his word. A new exchange student would be arriving from his university, he told me, and he wanted me to show her around campus and help her settle in. His meaning was clear: this girl was for me. Her name was Maya.

If the implication that Hayato could simply give her to me like a gift seems demeaning, it’s important to remember that these kinds of introductions are common in Japan, where women often meet their boyfriends through a mutual acquaintance. The hierarchical system of sempai (senior) and kouhai (junior) means that these acquaintances are usually older students at their high school or university, or a boss or manager at their company. The culture is gradually changing, but it’s still common and considered normal. Looked at this way, Maya and I were both Hayato’s kouhai, and as such it was natural that he should introduce us. Maya later told me that he had written her a long email praising my character and encouraging her to go on a date with me if she were so inclined. In other words, I was a gift for her as much as she was for me.

(Daryl, incidentally, tired of Tomomi within two months and moved on to seducing other foreign students. Even to this day I can’t think of him without feeling a twinge of jealousy, but now it’s leavened with amusement).

When I heard that Maya had arrived, I went around to her flat and left a message for her. We met up the next day in the university cafeteria. She was a tall girl, very thin, with an angular body, elfin features and slightly crooked teeth that actually enhanced her smile. Talking to her, I saw that she was a genuinely good-natured person without a trace of negativity. I showed her around campus and later took her around the city, all the while planning how to make my move. I eventually decided to invite her to Zero Hour, a bar on campus. It had a balcony and lots of dark recesses for private conversations, and the music, though loud, usually wasn’t deafening.

Maya accepted the invitation, and we met in front of the bar on the night I’d specified. Soon we were inside and sharing a pitcher of beer. True to my calculating nature, I’d gotten some Australian friends to “accidentally” wander by and talk me up, which they dutifully did. I’m sure a more cynical girl would have been suspicious, but Maya didn’t seem to suspect anything and acted duly impressed. An hour or two passed, the bar filled up and the music got louder. Both of us relaxed and moved onto the dance floor. I reached over and took her hand as Sly and the Family Stone’s “Everyday People” came on over the speakers. The ridiculous camp atmosphere perfectly matched my overblown emotions. With no destination in mind, I led Maya off the dance floor and out of the bar. It was a warm night and the stars were out; a crowd of students milled around the entrance. My heart was racing as I led her along the path leading back to the student flats. We eventually stopped in an out-of-the-way area between buildings, where we sat on a disused office table that was waiting to be placed in storage. We were both drunk enough that our trivial conversation seemed momentous, and before long we were making out. Then I pulled a kokuhaku, or confession, formally asking her to be my girlfriend. She accepted, and more kissing ensued. Not long after, a random drunk Australian wandered by on his way home.

“You guys are a good couple,” he said.

I could have led Maya back to my room right then – our flats were not far from each other’s, and she was clearly willing. In fact, she later asked me why I hadn’t immediately taken her back to my place. I honestly didn’t know. Perhaps I still had some nonsense idea of how a gentleman was supposed to behave or, more likely, I simply hadn’t thought of it.

The next day I went to her flat and an all-day sex session commenced. She was as eager as I was, and seemed surprised that I was interested in her.

“I wasn’t sure last night really happened,” she said. “I thought you’d wake up today and not want to see me again.”

I reassured her that she was all I wanted. Soon we were a serious couple, sleeping over at each other’s flats most nights and travelling around Australia together during our vacation time. Our groups of friends merged and I ended up staying with her for nearly two years, even after she returned to Japan, as I continued my education in her language and culture. I was hopeless at first, and we almost always spoke in English, with her encouraging my fledgling attempts at coherent Japanese sentences.

This was one of the happiest periods of my life, and for a while it seemed that all my dreams had come true. Maya had a sunny disposition and no sexual hang ups; in fact she was open to experimenting with costumes, role playing and other things which I’d been too shy to suggest to my previous girlfriends. I confessed all kinds of fantasies, and she embraced every one of them with naive enthusiasm. Our mutual foreignness made us bold with each other, and our erotic life quickly became colorful.

The year passed quickly in relative bliss. By now I’d set my sights on studying in Japan and perhaps even living there for good. At the time I imagined this as the next step in my relationship with Maya – or at least that’s what I told myself, and looking back, I think I believed it. But I was gradually changing, becoming more confident, looking ahead to new experiences. And somewhere in the back of my mind, the hunger for more girls was already growing.

The post The Birth of Japan Game: Episode 2: The Backstory appeared first on Attraction Japan.

from Attraction Japan http://attractionjapan.com/birth-japan-game-episode-2-backstory/

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lindenwoodhumanities-blog · 7 years

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An LU Student Shares Her Study Abroad Experience!

Are you an American high school or college student who has ever wondered what it would be like to study in a foreign country? All Lindenwood University foreign language majors are required to spend a semester abroad in either a Spanish- or French-speaking country. Towards the end of their time abroad, students complete and send in an evaluation of their experience in their host country. Below, please find a narrative from one of our recent spring 2017 study abroad students in Caen, France. Enjoy!

Date of Semester Abroad: January 2017-May 2017

Destination: Caen, France

How much international experience/exposure did you have prior to this semester?: I had never been abroad before this semester

Evaluate the Program

Educational Experience

Classes (including with whom you took classes): I took classes with 16 other international students coming from 10 different nations, the classes included art, media, culture, literature, communication, grammar, and we had a big project class where we chose two different subjects and created big projects throughout the semester and presented them at an cultural soirée. I really liked the other students in my classes, and the subjects were very interesting because there were so many different cultures being represented so there was a lot to learn not only about French culture, but also we were able to learn about the other cultures through the experiences of the other students in the classroom.

Faculty: All of my teachers were very intelligent; there were some that I liked more than others. The French teaching style was very different than what I was used to, the teachers grade a little differently than I was used to, but I did enjoy my classes.

Assignments/Workload: There wasn’t very much homework that was assigned, but I enjoyed that because it gave me the opportunity to travel and have free time meeting new people and enjoying Caen when I wasn’t in class. Some of the lower levels frequently had a lot of homework or a heavy workload so I think I got very lucky with my teachers and my level where I was placed.

Academic resources available to you: All of the teachers were very easy to reach and very responsive through email. All of the teachers had office hours also. In the international building where we took classes there was a Language Resource Center where there was a library and computers and a quiet place to study for all of the international students.

If you were studying a foreign language, please comment on the progress you made: My French has greatly improved. I think my most improvement comes in vocabulary and writing. I have learned how to write essays in French much better.

Non-Academic Life

Housing, including with whom you lived: I lived with a host family. They are some of the greatest people I have ever met, they warmly accepted me into their home, they helped me adjust to French life and they gave me a huge insight on how French people live and their daily life.

Food (if you had a meal plan, did you like how that was set up?): I had breakfast every morning, and three dinners a week with my host family, my host mom was an amazing cook and she made some really good food. For lunch I mostly ate at the university, the food was cheap and much better than a school lunch in America. For the rest of the dinners I would eat out with my friends, or grab a sandwich for myself. My host family gave me the option to buy groceries and cook for myself, that was very nice of them but I did enjoy eating with my friends.

Social Integration (including with whom you made friends): People at the university were very welcoming. A lot of events were planned for all of the students so it was very easy to meet new people and it was not often that I felt lonely or like I had nothing to do. I made some lifelong friends here that I will forever be grateful for.

Safety: The city of Caen was super safe in comparison to many European cities. I felt safe walking around at night; I never had any problem with theft. I always felt very safe when I was by myself.

Health Care: It was very easy to use the health care when I was sick. I had to go to the doctor and I walked in, was seen, got a prescription and left. The doctor’s visit cost me about $18 and the medicine was $5. It was super easy and they were all nice and helpful.

General Helpfulness of the support staff at the host university: Everyone was very helpful, communicating with people was easy, making appointments and through email.

About how much did you spend on the following?

· food not included in the cost of the program: I went out frequently and I spared no expense when I wanted something, so this number might be a little more than average, but maybe around $1200, possibly more?

· �� books & school supplies: $25

· toiletries & other necessities (not shopping sprees): $150

General Comments

If given the opportunity to spend a semester participating in this program, would you do it again?: ABSOLUTELY, I would come back again and again and do it over every semester if I could, this semester was such an amazing experience.

What did you especially like: I really enjoyed seeing Europe, and I really loved all of the friends that I made. I have learned so much about France and the culture.

What did you not like?: I honestly cannot say that there was one thing that I didn’t like. I had the time of my life in Caen and it will be extremely hard to come back to the states.

What would you like to share with future students to help them enjoy/get the most out of their semester abroad in this program?: Don’t sit at home and be homesick, If you put yourself out there you will make friends and you will have a good time. Get out and do things and be present. The culture is wonderful and the people are wonderful and I guarantee you will enjoy the experience if you let yourself enjoy the experience. It will be hard at first and there will be hard times, but in the end it will be life changing if you let it be.

What can we do at Lindenwood to make the semester a better experience for future students?: I feel like Lindenwood was very helpful, I felt like it was very easy and everything was well coordinated from the moment that I arrived. There were some students who came and had zero idea of what was going on, but being from Lindenwood everything was set up and super simple, and that made the transition much easier.

What did you learn/gain from your experience abroad?: I gained a love for traveling and a deep appreciation and respect for other cultures. I cannot wait to graduate and expatriate or find a job in Europe. I cannot wait to continue traveling and learn more about the world. Before this I had never been out of the country and this semester abroad opened my eyes to a world that I never knew about, and it has become everything to me.

Did you enjoy this post? Thinking about majoring or double-majoring in a foreign language? Check out Lindenwood University's offerings:

http://www.lindenwood.edu/academics/academic-schools/school-of-humanities/foreign-languages/

#LindenwoodUniversity #LUHumanities #LUStudyAbroad #LindenwoodStudyAbroad #LUForeignLanguage #LindenwoodForeignLanguage #study abroad

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twelvesignsrp · 7 years

Photo

congratulations logan, aries is now dane ducios with the faceclaim santiago segura

APPLICATION

Character Sign: Aries

Character name: Dane Duclos Birthday: 04/01/1997 Sexuality: Straight-Curious Gender: Male Moon Sign: Capricorn Faceclaim: 1) Santiago Segura or 2) Alexander Koch Power: Combustion Inducement: Users can increase the kinetic of atoms and molecules causing them to ignite. This process creates heat, that user can use. Personally I see Dane’s ability as a hindrance than something he has mastered or something the others seem to be gifted with. I like the idea of tying his aggressive and passionate side into his power. As much as him controlling flames seemed cool, that didn’t seem volatile enough—aka why I liked the idea that his anger could stem multiple minor explosions through the air or an object around him causing fires or miniature explosions (like a firework). His ability SHOULD NOT be confused with controlling flames, causing massive explosions, or something along the lines of thermodynamics/control. His ability is simple able to cause atoms to spontaneously spark to the point of causing friction, heat, flames, or a volatile mixture of both. I want him to use this ability a lot in the beginning as signs that he’s pissed off…since I wanted him to come across as passionate and headstrong but has a killer facade. Like can you imagine him getting into an argument and he just accidentally causing a candle to burst into flames but then can put it out? I just find that funny.

If that power seem too over powered or less controlled—since I know you wanted balance, so I had a back power or secondary if you don’t like the first.

Biography: (TW: Abortion, TW: Pregnancy )

He’d be unstoppable.

Five interesting facts about your character:

Dane is multilingual as he knows Canadian-French, Arabic, English, and Spanish

At a young age he was the youngest fencer to be nationally ranked in the top five in over 30 years. He was fourth in Canada before the age of sixteen, and won several championships.

Thanks to his father’s possession he has a clean record, not even a speeding ticket. Thanks to the little more than a decade of diplomatic immunity he and his family received. Dane is very much like a golden boy or boy-scout, cause he only pushes the envelope just enough to not break it but get what he wants.

Is an only child but swear that Kelly James may have been his long-lost-sister, since they are so eerily alike but different that when he first began to hang out he was taken back by it.

Character Quote: “Got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in”

WRITING SAMPLE

“What the fuck Dane, control yourself.” she replied, like a viper, while her eyes cut deeply into him.

#accepted #aries

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