#proud of my imperfect parents for doing their best. proud of my public school for teaching us to be people before being students

[sequoiareachesforthesky]

Today I wanted to talk about family structures and how diverse they can be and then it derailed into talks about education. Like the woke public schools that conservatives are so afraid of, that kind of things. Enjoy!

Warning : rambling. A lot of it.

Thank Satan I grew up surrounded by somewhat diverse family structures that didn't all fit the "straight married couple with 2.5 children" archetype, because being taught that this is the one and only way to live a happy life sounds scary to me.

My aunt divorced in her late 30s and is currently living her best life with her new boyfriend. And nobody makes a fuss about it, like good for her and her ex-husband if they needed to end their relationship. Divorce is healthy.

I have three uncles, none of them ever got married. I don't know much about my mom's brothers but my other uncle has been single for as long as I can remember and is absolutely thriving. He spends time with his friends, and puts time into his passions (mainly old cars). And never has anyone in my family said anything about him being single. Or even suggested that it should be something to be talked about. Because guess what, it's not a fucking problem and people aren't defined by their relationship status.

My mom went to a lesbian wedding when I was around 8 (I remember being very disappointed that I couldn't come with her because I've never been to a wedding before and it sounded like a lot fun). She made sure to show me and my siblings pictures and videos of the event. To make sure we understand that there's no problem with a family composed of two moms and a daughter (she was from one of the brides' previous marriage, again with divorce being treated a totally normal part of life, because it is).

I also grew up in a place where multicultural and mixed families were basically the norm I feel? At least that's how I was seeing it. The fact that my classmates had parents from overseas, or ethnically marked features wasn't a big deal (that's also why I'm now still very bad at recognising said "ethnic features" or foreign accents, or even knowing where names are from, because I didn't see any of those things as a difference honestly. Like how do people go "ah yes, this person is definitely from Eastern Europe". Like what??? How???). Anyway, that may be why for a while, I really struggled to understand why racism existed as a child. Like I knew it existed, I was told it was bad but I didn't understand why it was a thing in the first place (but isn't the case for most children? We're just here to enjoying the slides in the playground, we have no idea about the colonial heritage of our societies)

(sidenote: I may be mixed myself (wasian) but the history and current societal impact of racism is definitely not a topic I would say I'm very knowledgeable about. And of course looking back on it I did hold racist beliefs as a kid and there were instances when I witnessed structural racism. It just took me a while to realise it and to try to become a better person. My point here is about family structures and how I personally was exposed to a lot of mixed families, including my own, and that in that sense, race and culture have never been something I could have worried about when thinking about the idea of "founding a family". Like whatever happens happens you know)

And that's not even going into all of the friends I had who were raised by only one parent, the ones who would spend one week at their mom's then one week at their dad's, the ones who got nieces/nephews because they had much older siblings (sometimes step siblings), the ones who were adopted, and so on and so forth. So yeah, to me, it's normal for families to come in all shapes and forms. That's why nowadays, when I get introduced to new views of family and relationships, it doesn't really take me long to get it.

Sometimes I think back on my childhood and realise that I got actually pretty lucky to be in contact with many kinds of family structures, with none presented as more correct or desirable. Because now that I'm older and that I've met people who are very cautious about sticking to traditions (*cough* catholic bourgeois *cough*) and who even get anxious at the idea that they won't be able to get their straight wedding with three children that they shall raise in a pavillion in the suburbs, I really think that damn, it must suck to be them.

Anyway, judging others for having a view of "family" differing from your own is cringe, and I really think we should queer the world a bit more because why were my 12 year-old classmates so surprised when I told them that polyamory is fine to me (and even a logical way to look at love and relationships in my brain), that I didn't wanna have children later, and that I didn't if I would get a husband or a wife later, or if I would get married at all. I remember the shock in their eyes and being very confused as to why, because I was like "uuuuh, I thought homophobia didn't exist anymore? And that people should live the way they want?" (Also I've recently been diagnosed with ASD after being in denial about it my whole life so that may explain some things, since you know, the intersection between autistic and queer identities isn't even an intersection anymore).

This post was originally about family but since it intersects a lot with queerness, I just wanted to share a thought. Sometimes, I wonder if I could basically be considered as "assigned enby at birth" with how I was taught that gender doesn't matter and encouraged to be whomever I want to be without following gender norms. (This last paragraph is to be taken more as a joke than anything, but like honestly, that's why I never personally found the need to identify with the term "trans" or "non-binary". Because I just don't care personally, thanks to my upbringing. And that's why I'll always advocate for children to be exposed to queer content because me, my siblings, and probably most children from my community were and it makes for such healthier adults istg. Like yeah, I didn't care about my gender identity or whatever but the second I was put in an all girls school, I understood that it very much mattered to other people and that made me so furious, I totally get why so many people are attached to their queer identity. Because when you're in a fucking horrid environment, of course you're gonna have a strong emotional reaction to this stuff.)

All of this to say : I was raised by a woke family, went to a woke school that taught us that climate change is going to kill us all, that we should welcome all refugees, that beauty is found in difference and diversity, that disabled people should be accommodated (there was a class in my school for specially made for children with mental or learning disabilities because yes, they do have a right to education too actually), that children in general have rights and are not just objects, that solidarity is important (we made cakes for the local food bank when we were in kindergarten it was very cool. and many many fund-raising campaigns for people in need. we would mainly provide food and sanitary products, and the goal was to make a wall in the school hall with all of the collected products. it was great). We would sing songs about international solidarity and fighting against racism and water access inequalities at the school choir (looking back on it this feels a bit surreal to be frank). I was raised in the exact environment conservatives are freaking about. Heck the street where I lived was named after a communist song 😭. And you know what's the funniest thing about all that? It wasn't even that "woke". The way we were taught about societal stuff was a nice effort, but a bit clunky at times. There were still a lot, and I mean a lot of ableism against the students from the "special needs" class I talked about previously. I still got called a racist slur by a classmate when I was five. I still had so much stuff to unlearn as I got into teenage then adulthood.

What many would consider "woke" in the way I was brought up is, to me, the bare minimum. And that's why it hit me in the face like a baseball bat when I went from this great, though imperfect public school to a private middle school where boys and girls were separated in different classes. Where the students weren't mobilised to collect food for people in need in their local community but rather to pray for them and maybe give a little money to support missionary trips to Africa and things of the sorts. Where the school choir was mostly for learning Christian songs about thanking God for his eternal generosity. I was atheist btw, and attending religion class and masses were mandatory which felt a bit like infringing upon my freedom of religion but whatever I guess!! "Your parents chose to put you here so you don't have a say in the matter." a teacher once said.

So now, let me ask you a question and answer it immediately? Which of those two education systems is better? THE PUBLIC ONE OBVIOUSLY. I LOVED SCHOOL. I LOVED PEOPLE. I LOVE LIVING IN AN OPEN-MINDED COMMUNITY. AND THIS FUCKING PRIVATE CATHOLIC SCHOOL, WHICH ISN'T EVEN THE WORST OF ITS KIND BTW, ALMOST MADE ME FORGET ABOUT THIS LOVE. IT BROKE ME MENTALLY. IT COULD'VE TURNED ME INTO A PERSON I WOULD'VE HATED. AND FOR THAT I CAN NEVER FORGIVE IT. There might have been good individuals in this school, friends I made, teachers who were genuinely great people. But this school system wasn't made to help us grow into good people. You've heard it all before, how it just turns us into good employees how will preserve the system as it is, maintain the status quo.

When people tell me that education is better in private than in public school, it makes me laugh. I was always top of my class in this so called top-notch private school. Even though I was the public school kid. And even then, I would have been fucking humbled by students who spent their entire school years in the public system. Because those private school don't make you smarter, they won't help you get better grades. Even if they did, what good does it do? It's not about the grades. It's about being a person that finds their own path, their own way to live in society. Not necessarily this society, they can build their own. But how are we supposed to rely on each others and find community when we've been taught to always see the other as competition?

I wanted to talk about family structures and how diverse they can be, but I realize now that what I really I wanted to talk about is family as in finding each others, living together, embracing diversity and loving. In your own way, because there are so many different ways of loving, and so many people and things to love. But it's always love. It's caring. And this care for the people and the things about me, I got it from my education.

It's always about education.

[productstrust]

Workflowy colors

#WORKFLOWY COLORS PROFESSIONAL#

Isiah Thomas was the guy in the massive fur coat who ignored me as I waited by the locker room exit for an autograph. The straightforward hardwork was what I liked. But Joey D, Joe Dumars, was the guy I could respect. Laimbeer, Mahorn, and the later-phases of Rodman. I liked the hustle, but was turned off by the loudmouths and arrogance of much of the team. *It was also the Bad Boys era of the Detroit Pistons. I’m not still on the inside with it, but it’s still my team. I, like everyone involved, am hugely disappointed by the way things started out. I believe in what the Affordable Care Act is trying to do. Busting your ass and coming up short is better than not trying at all. I had my fair share of encounters with lousy parents (not mine, the parents of teammates), but the good lessons weren’t lost on me. Sometimes the lessons that good people try to teach through sports get clouded by lousy parents. This was the wound Lebron James reopened when he went chasing his ring to Miami. Luckily the city fought and was able to keep the name from leaving. When he took away the city’s team, it was the ultimate betrayal. Detroit had grown weary of the Lions losing, but Cleveland bled orange. Then I went to school in Cleveland right as Art Modell was packing up the city’s beloved Browns to move to Baltimore. He could have gone anywhere, but he was willing to lose out on a championship ring because it was more important to stay true to his team. I never really cared about football, but growing up outside of Detroit, admiration for that humble, dedicated man was everywhere.

#WORKFLOWY COLORS PROFESSIONAL#

One of the greatest running backs of all time, he started his professional career playing for the Detroit Lions and ended it there. At the time*, Barry Sanders was in the prime of his career. As an art kid I didn’t care for the extremes of a jock-oriented environment. As a 6'5" eighth grader I defied expectations as a lousy basketball player. Both schools took sports very seriously were routine champions. Maybe it comes from my elementary and high schools. We need to make the things that need making. Where we know it’ll be hard, maybe painful, and we do it anyway. We need to be willing to jump into situations where the results are not guaranteed. That needs to include big, imperfect things that can get better over time, not just manageable, perfect, elegant little things. We make things because we believe they should exist in the world. I did the best work of my career, much of it internal stuff the public won’t ever see. It’s a big, messy problem and an imperfect solution, but it matters and will change peoples lives. I’m proud to have been a part of it because it matters. Not because it came out perfectly, which it certainly did not. There are many, many things critics can say about, and I have plenty of my own concerns.īut despite all this, I am proud to have been a part of it. Whenever you pour your heart and soul into something, and it doesn’t turn out how you intended it, it is very hard. Going back through the massive Workflowy outline I keep of in-progress writing pieces that I never quite publish, I found a piece I started writing back in Decemeber 2013 as a talk submission when the wounds of were still raw. The problems with the launch last October are well trod territory. I started working on two years ago in late August 2012.

[elnotfound]

Free time to ask myself haha

Advice for me.

-Advice for myself? Hmmm, be happy.

Any Name, u would like to call me?

-Lala, La (One of My Faves)

Your Birthday?

-January 23, 1997 (Aquarius)

What’s your religion?

-Christian.

Do you know the time you were born?

-Ang naaalala ko lang ay Thursday iyon.

What’s your strangest talent?

-Kaya kong pagalawin yung isa kong tenga na hindi hinahawakan :P

Are you proud of yourself?

-Yes, siguro yung about sa one take lang ako sa LET at nasa Public School na agad ako kahit kakapa-rank ko pa lang. (biggest achievement)

Best thing that ever happened to you?

-Na nagkaroon na ako ng work ngayong taon which is I am truly grateful and thankful kay God.

Favorite color

-Yellow and Cream, it's my all time fave, no any reason basta gusto ko. And yung Purple, dahil kay IU.

Favorite Web site:

-Insta, twitter and Tumblr.

Favorite Anime?

-HxH, One piece, Haikyu, Cardcaptor Sakura, Mai Hime and any Studio Ghibli's Film.

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor?

-Strawberry and Mango (Kaya kong umubos nang sandamakmak huhu)

Favorite Zodiac Sign?

-Sagittarius and Libra, feel ko trusted sila.

Describe in one word, Friendship is

-EVERYTHING

Describe what you feel like waking up on Monday morning.

-Blessed but tired, haha

Do you believe in God? If yes then why and if no, then why?

-Yes, because I have faith in Him.

Do you like to sing in the shower? Which song?

-YES. Sour Album ni Liv :)

Favorite Books? Why?

-Love for Imperfect Things, Harry Potter and Bob Ong's books!

Favorite Games

-Mobile Games? Free Fire! Tara 1V1? Hahahaha

Gift for myself?

-Albums and Lightstick

Have you ever fantasized about a friend's girlfriend/boyfriend?

NO. That is just gross and weird.

If you got a chance to ask me something about My Personal Life?

To self: Happy ka ba?

Them: For sure it's about my sexual orientation, bahala kayo kakaisip hahaha

If you are an author, what book would you write?

-Actually gusto ko i-self pub itong mga nakasulat sa tumblr ko.

If you could get one superpower, what would it be?

-Being able to read minds (kahit masakit man haha) and teleport from places to places! (Goblin lang!)

Who would you most prefer to speak to?

-My dogs (Tiger, Lion and Bogart!)

Worst mistake?

-My life? Hahaha JK! Hmm, siguro yung sa propesyon kong guro? Introvert ako tapos humaharap ako sa maraming tao! Not comfy :(

Have any scars?

-Yes sa left arm ko, kagat ng aso naming si donghae na patay na ngayon, at masaya ako na may naiwan siya sa akin.

Worst issue that ever happened to you?

-Year 2019? Kami kasi ni bau halos malapit kami sa mga students lalo na sa advisory class namin kasi gusto namin kami yung safer place ng mga estudyante, then one morning nakita na lang namin sa CR ng LICS may student na nagsulat sa pader sa loob ng cubicle ng salitang panlalait kay bau na labis namin ikinagalit, then the next day sa parehong cubicle, pangalan ko naman ang nadoon at nakalagay ang salitang 'pandak' daw ako, hoy grabe 'yon! Kumalat 'yon sa school eh, galit na nga advisory class ko non, pero kalmado lang kami. Medyo cute naman height ko ah! BTW, kilala ko kung sinong nagsulat :P so by that, I don't easily trust students blee! Pero alam kong siya yung student na nagkagusto sa akin, dahil sa selos niya na close ako or kami sa ibang student nagkaganon na siya, hay

Would you wish to travel to the moon?

-Yes, I wanna live there, please take me to the moon.

Your dream?

-As of today, 2022 naman yung iba kong pangarap ay natupad na, LPT na ako at nag-masteral na rin ako pero sa ngayon gusto kong makapag-build ng own house for my parents kasi ayun yung pangarap nila papa at mama, and tumatanda na sila :(

Your favorite actor or player and why?

-NamJoohHyuk, I love him very much!

-Joe Keery. I do love him so much!

Your favorite creative person and why?

-My Kuya Topher! Grabe, idol ko 'yon! Nung nagkasakit ako at hindi makadilat, eh siya gumawa ng visual aids ko, observation ko na kasi non kinabukasan, ayun pumasok ako na mugto mata ko, pansin kaya ng students? Sorry, hindi ako makatingin non sa inyo haha, hindi ako sad girl or emo pero nagkasakit ako non!

Your first Crush name?

-Vince! Kinder pa ako non, sobrang cute kasi niya nung bata kami, tas bestfriend ko kapatid niya babae. Today, wala na kaming communication pero I hope nasa maayos silang kalagayan.

Are u working or Studying or other?

-Working (Teacher) habang nag-aaral na rin (Masters Degree) kaya ko ba 'to? Hahahaha

Best dressed?

-Skinny jeans, white shirt, cap and NB shoes hehe

Can you describe our life with a six word sentence.

-Life is hard, confusing and weird.

Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

-I won't try it :P

Define Art.

-Art is unpredictable.

Describe in one word, LIFE is?

-Manifesting

Describe your soul mate?

-A God Fearing, Employed and the rest will follow haha

Did you ever have a crush on your teacher or someone much older when you were a kid?

-Yes! Ma'am Saturno, our Filipino Teacher in First Year HS, she's so pretty :>

Describe ur Daily routine?

-Hmm, kapag weekdays eh gigising ng 4am, maliligo ng 4:30am, aalis ng bahay ng 5am, at dapat 6:45am nasa BHS na, 7-2PM nasa school ako it's either may klase or tengga sa faculty dahil sa paperworks. 5-6PM pumupunta sa church namin, minsan nag-bible study, minsan nag-ppreach sa labas. And by 10PM pauwi na ako at magrereklamo na puyat at pagod na naman. :) sa weekends naman, saturday is church day at sa sunday naman..8AM dapat nasa dental clinic na ako sa BONI huhu oh no, adjust na naman bukas! 💤

Describe yourself in 3 words?

-Introvert, Sensitive, Clumsy

Do you believe in love? Why or why not?

-Yes, but don't overdo it because it might lose yourself too.

Do you believe in luck?

-No. There's no such thing as luck, we make our own life so we can decide whether to have a best day or not.

Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

-Hindi pa pero I am planning too. Sa ngayon, bike is life muna.

Do you have any obsessions right now?

-Yes, ALBUMS and LIGHTSTICK! Nauubos pera ko. (IU, ITZY and 2521) pero worth it naman eh.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

-Yes?

Do you save money or spend it?

-Save then eventually spend it, haha

Do you tend to hold grudges against people?

-No, but I won't forget easily.

Dream Boy/Girl?

-IU, I really love her :(

Favorite actress?

-IU, Emma Watson, Emma Stone, Kim Dami, Kim Taeri, Kwon Nara, Milly Bobby Brown

How many relationships have you had?

- 3! Yung una First Year HS na hindi ko naman siya totally gusto, siya yung unang nag-confess then ayun pinagbigyan tapos hiwalay din agad kasi I am not into him talaga, ayun after ko naman meron naman pala siya nakakausap pa lol. Second, First Year College. Third, noong 2019. (Grabe pala mga pagitan haha)

If I was your slave for a day, what would you ask me to do for you?

-Bilhan mo ako ng Mogumogu sa 711 (Lychee with Nata)

If you are alone in Island and you have only one partner to choose..to whom you choose, why?

-I'll choose Jellicoe, maybe she needs to go to that Island, stress kasi 'yon!

If you could live anywhere, where would it be?

-Amsterdam, gusto ko talaga ng tulips. Or sa Barcelona I wanna visit Sagrada Familia Church.

If you could meet one person, dead or alive, who would it be?

-Not a person pero aso namin, si Donghae, I really missed you na! Mahal kita!

If you give another chance to live ur life. What will you do?

-I wanna be a street photographer! And also a traveler!

What annoys you the most?

-Yung kapag may kausap ka tapos kina-cut yung sinasabi mo, nakakabastos lang.

Do you trust someone easily?

-Nah, as in BIG NO! May tao ng nagpaniwala sa akin noon, kaya kapag mulat na ang tao hindi na muling pipikit ito.

Some negative points in you.

-Hindi approachable at hindi palangiti.

Some positive points in you.

-Tahimik, will respect your silence.

Someone who knows all your secrets?

-Hindi lahat, pero si Jellicoe.

Suggest a TV show for me to watch.

-La La Land, Cruella, Frozen (My all time favorite!), Starting Over Again, My Mister and 2521 (Tear Jerker, kailan S2?)

-Harry Potter (ALL)

-Insidious (Chapters 1, 2, 3)

-The Conjuring (1, 2, The Devil Made Me Do It)

-Annabelle: Creation, Annabelle Comes Home

-The Nun

-Girl From Nowhere (S1, S2)

-The Fear Street Trilogy (1994, 1978, 1666)

-Stranger Things (Season 1, 2, 3, 4)

-Jeepers Creepers

Tell me about three funniest friends you know in your life?

-1. Maris, malakas sense of humor nito eh, makita ko pa lang siya natatawa na ako, kumbaga pareho kami ng brain cells hahaha

2. Weng, isa pa 'to. Lahat nakakatawa sa kanya, at hahalakhak ka talaga sa mga binibitawan niyang jokes!

3. Bau, funny 'to sobra! Pero kapag nagseryoso nako, magtago-tago ka na!

Who was your relief when you were in college and why?

-Maris, sobrang close ko siya noon, mga hidden secrets ko alam niya :) siya yung one call away ko. NOON.

What are some words or phrases you use most?

-Ayan, Done with these shit (kapag tapos na ako sa ibang gawain HAHAHAHA), hay, jusko

What are your hobbies?

-Cycling, yes! Pero as of now eh wala na muna akong bike na-injured kasi left wrist ko at need ko rin ibenta kasi need ko ng pera noon para sa pag-apply ko noon sa public school. Pero may balak uli akong bumili :)

-Hiking, super yes! Bundok na bundok na ako ngayon! Gusto ko 'to kasi nawawala panandalian ang stress ko!

What else do you do in your free time?

-I really love writing and reading pero ayun minsan lang ako magka-free time eh!

What inspires you?

-My family.

What is the funniest thing that has ever happened to you?

-Ang sad, wala akong maalala! :(

What is the last movie you just saw and did you like it?

-1987: When the Day Comes, para kasi siyang Dekada '70!

What is the one food that you would never give up?

-Anything about strawberries and mango, will die kapag nawala ang mga 'to.

What is your deepest fear?

-Hmm, na nasa out of nowhere ako nang malalim na karagatan, nakatatakot lalo pa't hindi ako marunong lumangoy!

What is your favorite drink and why?

-Kapag stress ako sa umaga, bibili ako ng mogumogu sa 711 to start my day right.

What is your favorite place you have traveled to and why?

-Nasugbo, Batangas. Ang ganda lang nung magkaharap na island.

What is your idea of romance?

-Supporting each others dream!

What’s your relationship status.

-Single but happy. Like yes, hindi dapat iyan priority. Selflove and family first.

What is your least favorite word?

-Bantot? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA ewan ko ang pangit pakinggan.

What song do you play the most on your iPod?

-Lullaby, Pallete, Meaning of You, Friday, The Night of the first breakup, Knees, Flower, Modern Times, and My Sea (IU)

What?, SLMT, Bazinga, Ikako and Love Goes (SB19)

LOCO, Be in love, Sooo Lucky and Surf (ITZY)

Shrink and Forget Me Not (Honne)

Good 4 u, Enough for you?, Brutal and Jealousy, Jealousy (Olivia Rodrigo)

What time is it?

-1:57AM

What time do you usually go to bed?

-10PM, pero madalas 12AM

Is anyone in love with you?

-Ngayon taon maraming nagparamdam pero hindi pa ako handa. Hmm, siguro si hansel ang pasok dito sa tanong na 'to, nag-confess siya sa akin, pero it's a no muna, tutal mag-wwork naman na siya sa Qatar, I wish him all the best in life.

Would you stop being friends if your best friend told you he/she was gay?

-No, hindi naman ako close minded. Tsaka what's wrong? Let's be kind to everyone!

What type of friends do you look for?

-Someone you can share anything with, even if its out of the blue w/o judging you.

What turns you off?

-Siguro yung masyadong touchy?

What type of music do you like?

-R&B, Pop, Jazz and Ballad

What was the last book you read?

-Love for Imperfect Things by Haemin Sunim (Hindi ko pa tapos)

What would be the one thing you’d change about yourself?

-Awkward makipag-usap, wanna be that confident woman alive!

What would you name your autobiography?

-My Life Goes On

What’s the best advice you’ve given or been given?

-I think, you start yourself believing that you can have a good life.

What’s the last thing you purchased?

-Lightstick ni IU hahahaha at preorder na album ng 2521, at NB shoes dahil kay IU din hahahaha pero I am happy!

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

-Left Wrist, hirap gumalaw non eh dahil kasi iyon sa pag-bike ko non, ang layo kasi nung brake eh roadbike pa gamit ko non tapos same week din binuhat ko si Lion dahil hindi pa siya ganoon na marunong maglakad so ayun na nga nadali ang ugat sa kamay ko.

What’s your favorite food?

-Chicken Curry, Gatang Isda at Adobo (ni Mama)

Do you like sushi?

-Nooooooo, sobrang hate ko ang sushi 0/10.

Tell me a joke.

-KNOCK! Knock! Anong nauna, pitaka o barya?

...Edi, Coinpurse!!! :'>

What’s your sexual orientation?

-Ahmm

When was the most peaceful day you have had?

-Kapag bumabyahe ako tuwing umaga papuntang work at nakikinig ng music.

Where do you want to be in 50 years?

-Resting and buying anything I want and for my family.

Where were you yesterday?

-Buong araw nasa bahay ako dahil report ko sa Masters na iyan huhu, sakit sa ulo non!

When was the last time you went on a date?

-2020, sa Cloud9, Antipolo. Actually dapat hiwalay na kami pag-uwi non kaso chinat niya pa ako non. Pero halos after 1 week nakipaghiwalay na ako dahil nagbago siya at sa maraming dahilan. Ako ang nakipaghiwalay pero pareho naming ginusto, kahit pa mahal ko pa siya non, naniniwala kasi ako na mas mahirap maka-move on kapag ikaw yung hindi nakipaghiwalay. Pero I am happy now and It was the best decision I ever had in my whole life! Hahahahahahaha

Which female celebrity would you want to take away for a weekend?

-IU or ITZY mahal na mahal ko sila! Sila ang sumalba sa akin sa depression o kalungkutan ko noong 2019-2020 and I am grateful na sila ini-stan ko.

-(Male) Joe Keery. I really love him so much :))

Provide your 3 best past moments that you just can’t forget?

-Yung sobrang interested pa sa akin ni bau noon, like nag-heart to heart talk kami sa Moa seaside, inabot kami ng 3AM, and it makes me happy kapag naaalala ko 'yon.

-Noong lately lang, last week (June 13, 2022). Nagpunta akong mag-isa sa Moa, para makapag-isip-isip at makahanap nang peace of mind. Sobra kasi akong stressed non sa sarili ko, kapag naaalala ko yung dahilan nagkaka-anxiety ako sobra.

-Noong nasa hospital kami ni Kuya Tope, doon ko nakita yung ibang side niya kapag takot o nangangamba, mabuti na lang medyo nasa maayos na siyang kalagayan ngayon kaso maintenance na nga lang. Pero kahit ganoon, pinatatag siya ng pangyayaring iyon at nag-iingat na siya ngayon sa mga kinakain niya.

If you may return in time to inform your 16-year-old self something, what would you say?

-Mag-ipon at magpa-monthly check up ng ngipin.

Ideal type

-Hmm kung sa physical, gusto ko yung expressive eyes, magaling sumayaw o kumanta, maganda ngumiti at medyo matangkad sa akin or kahit hindi? (actually kahit sino o ano pa)

-Pero higit sa lahat siguro yung strong type of a person, loyal, humble, consistent, passionate sa mga gusto niyang gawin sa buhay and also, God fearing.

Your biggest insecurity?

-My teeth, pero as of now nao-overcome ko na dahil monthly na akong pumupunta sa clinic at yung height ko, sana kahit man lang medyo matangkad para confident ako sa pagiging guro huhu, pero okay lang din naman.

Tell me a random fact

-Fact about my self? Ayokong napapansin ako ng mga tao, mabilis maglakad at mahilig akong mag-almusal ng tinimplang milo pero malamig.

Your worst personality characteristic?

-Hindi ako approachable pero winowork out ko naman para unti-unti hindi mahiya tao sa akin lumapit.

-Kapag nag-focus ako sa trabaho ko tuloy-tuloy na at hindi na nakakain, nakakaligo at hindi na makakausap.

What do you hate about people?

-kapag sa lalake, yung panay selfie, major turn off talaga sa akin 'yon, sorry.

-mayabang. (no need to elaborate)

-kapag nagkukwento ka pero hindi ka pinapakinggan pero kapag siya na nagkukwento kailangan nakikinig ka.

-kapag kausap mo yung dalawang tao, tapos bigla silang nagbulungan, ang bastos tingnan.

-malakas magsalita kahit malapit lang kausap.

-yung lowkey pinapahiya ka sa iba niyong kasama, aalisan kita talaga.

-late parati sa usapan (mañana habit) o kaya yung nag-usap o nagplano kayo tapos bigla siyang aayaw sa mismong oras/araw.

-yung hyper o energetic ka tapos walang gana kasama o kausap mo, duh ._.

[thenugking]

Grand Academy For Future Villains II: Attack of the Sequel, Chapter 0: Prologue. A commentary for Three.

Like Maedryn in this chapter, I am also back on my bullshit.

General CW for the whole thing: parental abuse, internalised dehumanisation as a trauma response. Three’s not doing well. They’re doing worse than usual in this specific chapter.

Game 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Alternatively, read on Google Docs here

***

That would explain the swarms of clones, you think dimly through the haze of the flashback, but not why they're me….

No. You hadn't been a mindless copy at all. You had been disappointingly independent, an individual in your own right, so instead of simply recycling you as perhaps she should have, Maedryn had raised you like her own child. Of course, you were still intended as a tool to carry out her grand designs; what kind of villain would she have been if she had simply loved and cherished you?

Professor Cerebrist had wanted your mother's replication technology for himself. When you, the living prototype of your mother's early research, showed up in his freshman Evil Genius 101 class, he saw his opportunity. In your first year at the Academy, you found yourself as the battleground in the war between your mother and her mentor. Even though it never came down to a fight between you, your loyalties were tested.

In the chaos of the battle between the rebel faculty, the attacking heroes, and the beleaguered Grand Academy administration, you'd called on your mother for help, and she'd come through. She'd defeated the Professor and taken his place.

Clearly your mother has finally perfected her replication technology and taken the place of her former mentor. But if she already has everything she wanted…why has she unleashed swarms of mindless yous upon the Academy?

It’s… not a great start to Three’s sophomore year. They weren’t looking forward to having their mother on campus in the first place, but they'd hoped she would wait at least a little while before getting back on her bullshit. (Not that that’s a phrase they’d ever use, having only heard it in the context of Scorpius informing them that ze’s very sadly back on zir bullshit, before throwing a box of scorpions at them and running off before Three could ask what ze was talking about. But Maedryn is, unfortunately, very much back on her bullshit here.)

They don’t know what she’s doing with the clones, but right now, that’s not as big of a concern as the fact that the clones are here at all. Looking like Three. And making person-like screams. And probably getting their outfits and hair messy. In public. Three is… somewhat disgruntled that after all the effort they’ve put in to turning themself into a tool, erasing any displays of personhood and imperfection, Maedryn would simply create some new tools that don’t bother with any of that at all. But which still let other people see Three as a messy, screaming person.

The very noticeable, very public appearance isn’t helpful for Three’s desire to remain unnoticed and not draw attention to themself, either. It’s an interesting paradox; they can blend into the janitorial staff perfectly, but they stick out as The Student Who Looks Like All The Clone Janitors. There’s a similar thing going on with their name, actually. They like having a name that suggests a lack of personhood, but it does have the unfortunate side effect of having people consider it  odd, unique and even memorable.

...That first explanatory paragraph up there is spot-on Three characterisation though. 

#"But what an impressive job you've done of it! I'm so proud you're my mother!"

She looks at you critically. "A bit grovelly, but appropriate; it was and you should be."

Three’s probably not quite this grovelly. Apart from disliking the exuberance of the exclamation marks, they’ve had nineteen years to learn to measure quite how much grovelling Maedryn likes. But a little grovelling in this situation is only appropriate, particularly when they’re not certain exactly what she might have read from their thoughts on the flashback gun.

"Some of you may remember," says the Head, in ponderous tones, "the attempted establishment of a second and rival school on our campus last year, calling itself the Polytechnic Institute for Antagonism and Moral Complexity. This institution is hereby forcibly dissolved, thanks to the clone armies contributed by our loyal faculty. There is but one school on this campus, and it will tolerate no challenge, share no power, and show no mercy!"

The judgment of the remnant of the ill-fated Polytechnic Institute for Antagonism and Moral Complexity is summary, arbitrary, and surprisingly creative. The fates of the rebel faculty, announced and executed by DarkBoard, range from "Probation, with Extra Probes" for Professor Ulik, to "Dismissal Before Expiration of Contract" for the senior Professor Dethclot, to "Disciplinary Suspension" for the ringleader, Professor Mortwain. This last didn't sound so bad, until you see that it involves being suspended in a vat of clear Jell-O and set on the plinth in the courtyard as a warning to traitors.

The rebel students are all expelled, which is to say they are one by one dropped through a trapdoor in the floor. Presumably it ends up somewhere in the dungeons, but the geography of the Grand Academy is dubious at the best of times, and you figure they're lucky if they end up somewhere with a breathable atmosphere and not floating in the void.

Three thought they’d long grown out of feeling sorry and disappointed for idealists who tried to act against their mother. Of course, they hadn’t known Maedryn had cared about the Polytechnic Institute for Antagonism and Moral Complexity, but on reflection, they don’t know why they ever expected the School Head to have any more mercy than Maedryn had. It’s unexpected and unpleasant, having these feelings come up again, and there’s a deeper despair they’re not sure they remember feeling before.

They could have been part of the Professor Mortwain’s Institute. They’d thought before this that they should have been. It was only cowardness that stopped them. But they’ve known all along that going against authority never ends well. This just shows they were right. This just proves any ideas they had about standing for their own beliefs in future were foolish and naive, and they knew better than Mortwain and Ulik and Phil and everyone else in the firing line now. So why do they still feel like they should be standing there with them?

"That," the School Head tells the surviving students and staff, "was a Refreshing Display of School Spirit."

It casts its gaze about the hall. Then those eyes land directly on you. "Are there any remaining students in this body," it says, "that we should know about, that participated in activities unbecoming the Grand Academy for Future Villains?"

You scan the hall, trying to find someone to betray. Not Rathna, you were known to be enemies. Not Miriel the Bloodshrike, you actually like her. Not Aurion either, the Head is known to favor him.

There. Leaning back in his chair, you spot the perfect mark. Phil, a casual friend from last year. Permanent upperclassman, villainous slacker, and known supporter of the rebel college, insofar as he could be bothered to support anything at all. 

The Head's baleful gaze has not left you. It's waiting.

Seriously, why am I being told I’m enemies with Rathna now? And that I like Miriel? Anyway, Three doesn’t particularly want to betray anyone. Certainly not Aurion, their Not Best Friend, or Rathna, who they get along well with, and turning on anyone from the Shadow Council could be dangerous. But with the Head looking right at them, betraying someone else might be the only way to keep themself safe. A few months ago, they wouldn’t have hesitated before giving Phil up; they’d thought he was too lazy and useless to deserve a place here anyway. Then he’d beaten them, and shown a commitment to his cause Three wished they could have, and inspired them to do better. Which obviously, in the end, was a bad decision on Phil’s part and got neither of them anywhere.

#Say nothing and hope no one notices.

You can't bear to betray him. However, your mother—despite the effort of controlling all the replicas in the room—notices your hesitation, and intervenes. Phil isn't any help. He doesn't put up a fight, doesn't even really seem to notice what's happening until he's hauled off to the trapdoor by two of your blank-faced replicas.

You think you hear him call your name. "What are you—" You shift guiltily in your seat, but he's addressing the clones.

Did he even notice that they weren't you? Did he even care that there were suddenly swarms of you when last year there'd been only one? Hurtful. He deserves whatever he's going to get. Or so you tell yourself as the trapdoor closes with a final clang.

Three doesn’t really feel hurt (at least not by Phil). After all, why shouldn’t he think the clones are controlled by them? Or that Three’s at least part of the dissolution of the Polytechnic Institute for Antagonism and Moral Complexity? They were working with the School Head to stop it last year, and they’re sitting with Maedryn now. And they never thanked him for what he did. And they never apologised.

Three doesn’t have many thoughts on the rest of the announcements, mostly because they’re dissociating during them. Which is fine. That stops them having feelings, and tools don’t have feelings. None of the Probably Much More Useful Than Three Is clones have feelings. Does Maedryn even need them for anything now she has the clones?

It’s not going to be a good year for Three.

[nerdygaymormon]

A Letter to Elder Holland

Elder Holland, I’m certain you receive many, many letters, so if you’re reading my note, thank you. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and I am gay. That combination often doesn't fit well together. There is much about the gospel and the church that I love. This church connects me with the Divine. This church gave me the language to understand spiritual things. I’ve learned a lot about being a better person, to serve, and to be empathetic. It’s just that where church intersects with how I was made by our Creator, there is tension. In this letter I share some of the feelings I’ve had with that. I struggled to accept that I like boys. I made many pleas and bargains with God to change me. I tried so hard to be the most faithful, best member ever, but every imperfection and shortfall was proof that I wasn't good enough for God to change me. That was a stressful way to live.     There came a day when I knelt down and asked “God, do you love me? All of me? Who I am and what I am?” I immediately felt enveloped in immense love, and warmth radiated across my body as a voice in my ear said “You are not broken.” That answer to my prayer sustained me for a long time. It is sad that a person who grew up in church didn’t know if God could love me. What a relief to learn God loves me and doesn’t view being gay as defective. I was in the closet when I was a missionary and when I attended the church schools in Rexburg & Provo. It felt like I had this big secret I had to protect and a lot of mental energy went into remaining on guard and making sure no one would find out. It felt really lonely not being able to be open. The best friendships are where you can be vulnerable but I had to worry about being able to stay in school so honest friendships had to wait for another time. For a long time I didn’t come out as gay because it seemed like it would disrupt my life in really negative ways. Staying in the closet kept my world intact. Much of my family’s life revolves around church. Being a member of this church gives me a social network, a map of life goals, and an identity. Coming out meant I could lose all of it.

Squashing all my romantic and sexual feelings also shuts down most other feelings. I spent my 20’s & 30’s feeling numb, like I was watching life but not a part of it. I spent those years wishing a bus would hit me or a major disease would strike. Those kinds of deaths would end my suffering and also be okay for my family because they wouldn’t have to know I’m gay.  I finally reached the point where I was tired of going through the motions. What’s the point of having a life if I wasn’t going to live? As I was approaching my 40th birthday, I decided it’s time for a change. It was hard to share the secret I had spent my life guarding, so initially I came out one person at a time with no big announcement Coming out changed my life in ways I didn’t foresee. I think because I could let down my guard and there was less conflict between my public & private identities, I appeared more confident. People started to notice. I got higher positions at work, and I was pulled from the Primary, which is where I spent most of my adult life. My 40's have been spent in stake callings. I’m grateful my stake president views me as able to serve regardless that I'm attracted to men. 

Being gay complicates church for me. Questions that have simple answers for others are complex for me.    One thing about being open that I’m gay means I don’t pretend to be on the path for straight people. There’s no way for me to complete the covenant path, I can’t become a husband & father (at least not if I want to stay in the church), I can’t achieve the goals that our religion says should be the purpose of my life. It feels wobbly to be on an unmarked path. I understand the Church’s teachings on God’s Plan of Happiness. I wish there was some guidance about the purpose of my life and the path for me as a queer person. It feels like a void in our understanding and so the default answer to everything is “we don’t know,” and “no, that’s not for you.” Church can be a place of comfort & peace, but it’s also a place that can hurt. The November 2015 Policy of Exclusion felt like I'd been punched in the stomach and I nearly walked away from the Church. Only a clear message from God that there was a work for me to do kept me here. I reluctantly stayed and God has used me to bless other LGBTQIA members and that has been a surprising source of joy in my life. 

There’s been some recent conference talks that identify me as a distraction to the church because I can’t be complete the covenant path. That really stings. I’m doing the best I can but those words hit me hard, like the church doesn’t value or even want me. I think back to how I felt when I prayed to know if God loves me and how differently that felt. I don't think God views being gay as incompatible with the gospel.  I’ve had church leaders tell me that it will all be sorted out after I die. Some even say when I’m resurrected I won’t be gay and can marry & have the blessings of the gospel. I understand this is meant to comfort me, but saying I can be happy only when I’m dead isn’t a great message. I need hope in this life. Life can be lonely. I know this is true for many people. I look at my nieces and nephews, they're starting to serve missions and get married and become adults with their own lives. My life is getting significantly lonelier as they grow up.

Everyone has times they wonder if their parents will be disappointed in them for something they've said or done, but I don't think most non-queer children spend years wondering if their parents would still love them if they reveal something important about themselves.

Even though I have a temple recommend, my parents don’t like that I’m gay and my father asks if I were molested growing up or wishes I would go to reparative therapy. My mother wishes I would go back in the closet and that we’d never have to speak of this unpleasantness again. My siblings’ reaction is mixed, some offer unconditional love & want me in their lives and others make it clear that they only remain in touch as long as I make life choices they approve.    A few years ago I went to therapy because of suicidal thoughts. While meeting with the psychologist, I was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder and we also worked on my low self esteem. My life is much better for having received mental health treatment. Thank you for your 2013 talk about mental health. It’s an important subject around which there’s still a stigma. It was helpful I could point my family to an apostle’s words that it’s good to seek help from a mental health professional. When I was in the closet, my attraction to men brought me nothing but trouble and heartache. Being open about how I experience life has allowed my orientation to also become a source of happiness. I found other friends who are members of the Church & LGBTQ+ and it’s wonderful because we understand each other’s experiences in a way many others don’t. I am proud that this is the 8th year the youth of my stake have known a gay member of the church. I wish I’d had such a role model when I was growing up, someone who I thought could understand me or in whom I could confide and seek encouragement. I’ve come to learn that there are LGBTQ+ individuals in each ward of my stake and they often keep this a secret, afraid of how other members will react. Being both gay and a member of this church is challenging. I know some people hold me up as an example, telling their gay son or daughter they can remain in the church like I have. The thing is, the people who do this, I don’t think they understand the type of life they are wishing onto someone they love, it's living a half-life, a stunted life. They should get to know my story before wishing it on someone else. As I said above, God said there was a work for me to do in this church, and I've worked hard to make the little piece of the Church I interact with to be more kind and loving.

It feels like changes are on the horizon for me. Probably a release from my calling in the next few months, and I don't know what else. It's time to think about the future and my path in life.

Since the goals presented in church are not available to me, I have to figure out what a successful life looks like for me, what the purpose of my life is, how God wants me to partner with Him in the work He is doing in the world today. I suspect working all this out will take a lot of mental, emotional & spiritual work. I already feel a bit fatigued just thinking about it, but I also know the Lord has blessed and buoyed me over the years and believe He will continue to do so. 

I would appreciate if you would say a prayer on my behalf, and also for other LGBTQIA+ members that we can be open to the spirit and follow where God guides us. I don't know how we fit into God's Plan, but I'm certain the author of diversity has made provisions for us. 

David

[leondaltons]

A little about my OC’s for the AcademyVerse, I will be updating it with their correct pinterest boards and some new facts:

Vera Myers (fc: Jenny Boyd), Student:

Her main power is fire manipulation/generation but she seems to have received a certain level of telekinesis from her mother’s side. She is the daughter of two extremely famous and “perfect” superheroes, her dad is a member of the board or whatever, a big and public name, the people love him. Vera has the pressure of being the “perfect” girl to keep her family reputation (her grandparents were superheroes too). However things aren’t as nice as they seem. Her father is mentally and verbally abusive to her and when she was young in a moment of anger her power got out of control and she killed her mother during a fire (although is her mother really dead? suspense music). Vera was around 9 years old when this happened and was immediately sent to The Academy so she could be kept under control. Her father's power and superhero status prevents her from revealing what really happened the night of the accident and why Vera lost her control.

Knowing how her emotions can get her powers out of control, Vera has a hard time getting close to people, usually acting like a bitch and showing a cold exterior but the reality is that she is broken on the inside (a volcano waiting to explode). She has a big fear of imperfection and never being enough, but also a self-destructive personality blaming herself for her mother's death and all the emotional abuse she suffers from her father.

Apart from training in combat, Vera has taken ballet lessons from a young age to keep her emotions in control. The Board & The Academy have big hopes for her, despite her not being exactly sure if she wants to be a hero.Some tropes that apply to her: superiority/inferiority complex, jerk with a heart of gold, hidden depth and broken bird (Her pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/minakosaino/my-ocs/-vera-academy-oc/)

Hecate (fc: Natasha Liu Bordizzo), Student:

Has the ability to summon demons, possess people with them and claw extension. Hecate was an orphan used, since she was a kid, in a government experiment that was shut down after an incident (the scientifics were using her to try and open a portal to hell and find a way for them control the demons but things started to get out of control and her sedative started to wear off, Hecate accidentally summoned a big and important demon who started to destroy everything and kill everyone at the lab). After that, she woke up at The Academy not being able to remember anything about her past (and therefore the experiments), her memories locked by the government.

Hecate was trained to be part of a group of superheroes called Gen Zero. After a botched mission, which ended up with one of her teammates killed, some of Hecate’s memories got altered, mainly to hide how much the government was involved, and she was again sent to the Academy (she feels close to this place, as it’s the only home she ever knew). The board needs her to stay there under constant control just to keep an eye on her, given how dangerous Hecate powers can be.

Lately, Hecate has started to have memories where all she sees are needles and all she can feel is pain but doesn’t understand what it means; at the same time she has started to hear voices inside her head, but is too scared to admit it to anyone else. Her memories are coming back and she won’t be happy with the government and the Academy when that happens

(Her pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/minakosaino/my-ocs/-hecate-academy-oc/)

Rosario Ortiz (fc Emeraude Toubia), Villain:

Her powers are mass manipulation, extrasensory perception (Psychometry) and supernatural stamina. She is the oldest daughter of a prominent villain, who is the leader of a famous and respected criminal organization with only female members and that has been run by the Ortiz women since its creation (so she is kind of like villain royalty).

Rosario is cocky and despite having big shoes to fill in, she is confident about her capabilities and has the talent to back up her big ego. She is not exactly mean, but she was raised in a family of criminals and has a love for shiny things (and likes the taste of power).

When she is not doing works for the organization she likes robbing rich people (you know, the rich who deserve to be robbed lol) and although she keeps most of what she robs for herself, a lot of it also goes back to certain members of the city she keeps under her protection, her “little birds” that keep her updated about what’s going on in the city. The organization doesn’t want to rule the world and all that, but enjoys having control over what it’s happening in the city, therefore having important people in their pockets or as part of the organization.

Rosario has a complicated relationship with her sister, Eliana, who resents her older sister for the legacy she will inherit; Rosario cares for her sister and is worried Eliana is walking down a path she can't come back from. She has a love/hate relationship with an Academy student, Akira, who also comes from a family of villains. (Her pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/minakosaino/my-ocs/-rosario-academy-oc/)

Tayla Reynolds (fc: China Anne McClain), Student:

Has the power to create illusions, manipulate people's minds and telepathy. Her powers developed at an older age, when she was around 13, it wasn't odd for her not to have powers as she is the first member of her family with them (This is later revealed to be false: Tayla never met her father but she will discover he is a villain). Despite being powerful, the late awakening of her powers gives her a harder time getting a hold of them, however she is determined to prove she belongs here and isn't an underdog. Tayla really enjoys the opportunity The Academy is giving her, she wants to do good, help people and make her mother proud, even to the point of confronting her own father if she has to.

Tayla is intelligent and kind, she tries to be positive and to see the best in people. When she finds out about her father being a villain Tayla tries even harder to show she is not like him and that she deserves to be in the Academy.Being new to the superheroes world Tayla has a hard time adjusting to everything, especially because her classmates treat her as an inferior. Because of her isolation during the classes, for a school project Tayla ends up partnered with Mali, the daughter of a former villain with dark intentions. This innocent project becomes something else when Tayla and Mali end up becoming friends and perhaps even more.

Yeong Koh | Alias: Starfall, because of her black & silver costume and usually appearing at night (fc: Yuna Kim) Vigilante:

Her powers, known by the public, are supernatural strength & reflexes but she also has precognition, although she can't always control when the visions will happen. None of Yeong parents have superpowers and there aren't registers of any member of her family having them, so they came as a surprise. Despite having some problems learning how to deal with Yeong powers when she was young, her parents refused to contact The Academy, as they were suspicious about everything happening there Because of this she was taught to never reveal her powers to the public and to use them as little as possible, wanting her to be safe.

When Yeong was 18 her best friend was killed when he got trapped in the shooting between two rival gangs that had been brewing for some months, but not a single Heroe appeared to stop it. This made her see the disparities in the system, understanding she had the opportunity to make a change where the big superhero names didn't appear. She decided to fight crime in the darkest parts of the city, dismantling big crime organizations, drug dealers and robbers. She also fights against villains, as long as heroes aren’t involved, mainly because she knows The Board in control of them is trying to get a hold of her, Yeong is extremely suspicious of both The Academy and The Board.

Yeong is smart, athletic and resourceful, knowing how to act under pressure and easily solve problems although her impulsivity sometimes gets the best of her. She enjoys the thrill of the fight and can get a little cocky at times but she also has a warm heart, wanting to help the people who are in the most complicated situations. Her biggest struggle is controlling her precognition, as it usually happens at random times and hardly when she wants to; in a way she blames herself for not being able to predict the incident that killed her friend.

Yeong sometimes works closely with other vigilantes, especially for complicated missions. During the day, she is a new lawyer working for the state with the people who need it the most. (Her pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/minakosaino/my-ocs/-yeong-academy-oc/)

[dweemeister]

Best Animated Short Film Nominees for the 92nd Academy Awards (2020, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

Since 2013 on this blog, I have been reviewing the Oscar-nominated short films for the respective Academy Awards ceremony. This is one of my favorite traditions for the “31 Days of Oscar” marathon I hold yearly, and I recommend to all my North American followers to seek these shorts out (see this) – they have just released to theaters as of this review’s publication and the reach of each package’s distribution increases every year. As a one-off for the 92nd Academy Awards, the Oscars are being held on their earliest weekend ever, giving everyone less time to see the nominated shorts.

Without further ado, here are the Academy Award nominees for Best Animated Short Film. Three of the five are stop-motion animation. It’s a solid bunch and – despite the fact I have seen better nominee slates – all fully deserving of their nominations (it is rare I feel that way) in a tightly contested year. They are all, in some ways, featuring characters and showing how they connect to others.

Hair Love (2019)

Co-directed by Matthew A. Cherry (former executive at Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Productions); Everett Downing Jr. (a journeyman storyboard artist who has worked with Blue Sky, DreamWorks, Netflix, and Pixar); and Bruce W. Smith (creator of The Proud Family and former supervising animator with Walt Disney Animation Studios), Hair Love becomes what is most likely the second film in the history of the Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film to have significant involvement from a former professional athlete (Cherry; the first is probably 2017′s Dear Basketball). Distributed by Sony Pictures Animation following a Kickstarter campaign, Hair Love played in front of 2019′s The Angry Birds Movie 2 – talk about a disparity in quality. The film follows a young girl as she refers to a YouTube channel (this film showcases modern technology but does not, like many other animated films, date itself in its technological depictions) to style, if not tame, her hair. Her father – who appears to have little experience with cutting or styling hair – is hesitant to help his daughter, but they struggle and learn together. The final moments of Hair Love reveal that their time learning from these online tutorials extends beyond their bonds as father and daughter.

Hair Love, riding on Hollywood goodwill from figures rarely associated with animation, has been lauded for its depiction of black fatherhood. In American popular culture, black fathers in black-centric narratives have often been portrayed as abusive or absent. So to see the opposite in hand-drawn animation is a welcome sight. The daughter’s hair almost has a life of its own and is normalized (black hairstyles have long been otherized in the West); an abstract sequence where the father is doing combat with the out-of-control hair represents the awkwardness of this scenario – with zero dialogue – perfectly. For an animation studio ridiculed for releases like The Emoji Movie (2017), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) and Hair Love serve as partial correctives. 

My rating: 8.5/10

NOTE: Hair Love can be seen on YouTube as of this review’s publication.

Dcera (Daughter) (2019, Czech Republic)

The Czech Republic can lay claim to being the home of the late Jiří Trnka, arguably one of the greatest, most innovative stop-motion animators of all time. Carrying that legacy forward is Daria Kashcheeva, a graduate of the Film and TV School of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague (FAMU). Her graduation film, Dcera (“Daughter” in English), won a Student Academy Award and was deemed the best graduation film at the famed Annecy International Animated Film Festival (the most important all-animation film festival in the world). In Dcera, we find a young woman at the side of her father’s hospital bed, reminiscing about their relationship. Wordless and shot largely with a shaky camera and in close-up, we see several images from the woman’s childhood – how her father, barely scraping by with household duties, had little time to express his love to her. Dcera often breaks into literal flights of fancy and the daughter’s surrealistic imagination. And yet even when retreating into a world crafted so that she can escape, there is a longing to bring her father in.

Kashcheeva’s notes about Dcera elicit that she wished to accomplish an, “authentic immediacy and a para-documentary nature” to her film via the film’s constant close-up shots and low depth of field. She mostly succeeds; although the shaky camera is distracting and prevents the audience from forming an emotional connection with the characters onscreen. The stop-motion puppets appear to be made of papier-mâché and are intentionally rough –reflecting how difficult their lives have been and the innumerable imperfections of their personhood. The production design – when we are allowed to see it (the lack of production quality is not any fault of the film’s, considering that it is a graduation work) – resemble something from a lucid nightmare. Dcera is an outstanding feat of stop-motion stylization. In its final minutes, it seeks to understand and to forgive that which was never realized. Its emotional impact is imperfect, but its intentions nevertheless pack a wallop.

My rating: 7.5/10

Sister (2018)*

When the Chinese Communist Party brought an end to its one-child policy in 2015, it concluded a decades-long experiment that has left China in a demographic bind. Stemming from a decision made in 1979, the policy’s consequences include a skewed age disparity and sex ratio at birth that will affect the nation for more several decades. Siqi Song’s graduation film from CalArts, Sister, has the one-child policy in mind. The film, narrated by Bingyang Liu (no previous film credits) is a reflection by a man thinking about his life with his little sister. More than midway through Sister, the audience learns that the film is nothing more than speculation. In China even now, the one-child policy – since replaced by a two-child policy – has left its mark on numerous generations be they children, parents, grandparents. The film’s unique character design is wool-based, with its monochrome pallet recalling an older family photo album.

According to Song, the film’s story, “didn’t change from the very beginning. [She] always knew the film would be about a man imagining how his life might have been like had he had a little sister.” What did change while Song – a “little sister survivor” whose family made a tremendous effort to keep her a part of their family – made Sister were the stories of a brother and sister as the two grow up. The never-to-be siblings have their conflicts, as well as their moments of familial love. Not all of the ways this is depicted work, most notably the scene where the sister grows beyond her crib to become a giant looming over her brother (the metaphor here is too heavy-handed). Our narrator ponders whether he might have been a different person if his mother – pregnant with his younger sister, wanting very much to bear her – never had the policy-forced abortion. Given the trauma it inflicted on his mother, the narrator – even from an early age – will be left pondering this well into his adulthood. Is there regret in his narration? Guilt? I don’t have any answers, but I will leave it to those of Chinese descent to discern theirs.

My rating: 8/10

*Sister is entirely in Mandarin. For non-English language films, I usually list the film along with its country/countries of origin unless it was primarily an American production. Despite Sister being listed as an American/Chinese co-production by Song, I see no evidence of a Chinese studio backing the film. For record-keeping purposes, Sister will be deemed an American film.

Mémorable (2019, France)

Last year, Ireland’s famous Cartoon Saloon garnered acclaim for Louise Bagnall’s Late Afternoon. Late Afternoon, an expressionistic study in an elderly woman’s dementia, is a distant cousin to Bruno Collet’s Mémorable. Here, an artist named Louis (André Wilms) shifts between periods of remembrance and forgetfulness. His wife, Michelle (Dominique Reymond), tends to his needs and to his increasing disconnection to the things and people around him. If Louis has one fixture in his life, it is his painting – with brushes or, close to the end, with his fingers. Collet, noting the increase of short films – animated or otherwise – about dementia in recent years, indeed questioned the wisdom of yet another film about someone suffering from it. He then encountered the works of artist  William Utermohlen. Utermohlen, like Louis, continued painting even as his dementia impaired his understanding of his surroundings, let alone his work. Collet, now convinced of the validity of his plans by learning of Utermohlen’s life, set straight to work on Mémorable.

Mémorable evolves as the film progresses. What seems like a straight stop-motion animated short film transforms itself as Louis’ dementia worsens. By the film’s end, Louis’ figure begins to melt into something like oil paints, making him a living Impressionist painting while others around become surreal on the terms of a Picasso or Dali. With Mémorable containing plenty of dialogue, none of this ever detracts from this short’s abstractions The film’s final moments – an uplifting dance scene between Louis and Michelle – is an extraordinary marriage of stop-motion animation and computerized animation. By then, Collet has depicted the progression of Louis’ dementia in as cinematic a way as possible using an array of styles that could not have been predicted within a twelve-minute animated short film. The technical daring of Mémorable and the strength of its artistic conceit is breathtaking to behold.

My rating: 9/10

Kitbull (2019)

If any animation studio has a history with animal, it is Disney. Released as one of Pixar’s “SparkShorts” – a program created in 2019 to foster the talents of Pixar’s younger animators to force them to make short films with limited resources – Rosana Sullivan’s Kitbull joins that esteemed company. Sullivan, a storyboard artist who worked on the likes of Monsters University (2013) and Incredibles 2 (2018), was previously training to be a veterinarian and had helped many pit bulls in clinics and shelters. She, “saw how sweet and gentle they could be, despite [her] initial fears.” Her work with unadopted black cats formed the other half of what would become Kitbull. In San Francisco’s Mission District, a scrawny kitten and a pit bull who is forced into dogfights (even the implication of dogfighting would render Kitbull ineligible for wide theatrical release by Disney executives, knowing their insistence on a sanitized brand) strike up a friendship.

The design of the kitten is not realistic, but it would not be believable if Kitbull was filmed as a stop-motion or CGI-animated film. The kitten’s unrealistic body proportions make it more appealing and the minimalism of the pit bull’s design (there is a minimum amount of lines used to trace its facial shape) is effective artistic economy. The pit bull is a type of dog in need of an image rehabilitation. Perceived the be among the most violent of dogs, pit bulls are anything but naturally violent and Kitbull plays into this misconception. Sullivan’s experience as a former veterinarian student are fused with themes of loneliness and trust-building. Cut down from an 18-minute-long storyboard to its nine-minute runtime, Kitbull is an efficiently told animated short film evoking the pathos of animal-centric Walt Disney Animation Studios’ feature- and short-length films of the 1930s and ‘40s.‡

My rating: 8/10

‡ Which, for younger readers that have not seen Disney films from those decades, should be taken as a high compliment.

NOTE: Kitbull can be seen on YouTube as of this review’s publication.

^ Based on my personal imdb ratings. Half-points are always rounded down.

From previous years: 85th Academy Awards (2013), 87th (2015), 88th (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), and 91st (2019).

[seungcheolsbodyharness]

warnings: hateful behavior, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (nothing is described, mentions are only in passing of prolonged use), death

wc: 3.8k

a/n: bonus points if you can guess where i got the idea for this one 👀👀👀

x

“excuse me, i - not to bother you, but i feel like i’ve seen you somewhere before.” 

you look up from your coffee, and smile gently. this isn’t the first time you’ve heard this, and it probably won’t be the last. the woman standing in front of you is, as you suspected, a stranger.

“i’m sorry, i’m afraid we haven’t met before.” you say, shrugging. 

“no, no, it -” the woman laughs. “it wasn’t that. weren’t you a model for that new makeup campaign? i saw it in a magazine somewhere.” 

you laugh goodnaturedly back. “no, that wasn’t me. i’ve never modeled before. it’s very kind of you to say, though.”

“oh, well, you definitely could! forgive me for bothering you.” 

you wave her off. “oh please, not a bother at all. i mean, not to brag, but i kind of get that a lot.”

the woman laughs and moves towards the counter of the cafe. “i’m sure you do, sweetheart.”

you turn your attention back to your coffee and the reports on your computer screen, pushing down on the unsettled feeling beginning to gather in your gut. you look around quickly, but no one is staring at you.

no one you can see.

you make your way out of the shop, bags of new clothes hanging from your wrist. there are cabs speeding up and down the road as you start the short walk back to your apartment. 

you have headphones in, sunglasses on as you keep your eyes forward to avoid talking to anyone. the shops you adore so much are less than ten blocks, and even despite the cold demeanor you put forth, you can hear numerous shouts and leers as you cross the street. 

you roll your eyes as you keep moving, and that’s when you see it. 

you stop dead in your tracks and turn to look into the window of a shop you don’t remember having been there before, face to face with a painting of a girl that looks spectacularly like you. you’re not sure if you’re feeling worried, or scared, or impressed - after all, the painting just looks like you. there’s no proof to say that it is. 

but you have a desperate need to find out. 

you step inside the shop and it’s dark, the only light coming in from the sun outside. you quickly decide there is no one else inside this shop, a feeling of being utterly alone flowing through you.

“may i help you, miss?”

you shriek and jolt at the sound of a man’s voice behind you, old and raspy and deep. you turn to him, chest heaving, and nod slowly. “the - the painting in the window. i’d like to see it, please.”

the man - nearly decrepit for how old he must be - nods slowly, and leads you back towards the front of the shop where the painting is displayed. he gently takes the painting from its stand and holds it up in front of you. glancing slowly between you and the painting, he remarks on the resemblance.

“yes, yes, i - how long have you had this?” you ask, standing closer to the painting to inspect it heavily. it had dust on its frame, and the brushstrokes and use of color gave it an air of easy mastery. you laugh nervously. “i can’t even remember ever having seen this store.”

“a young man brought it to me recently. quite a handsome fellow himself, i must say. told me he’d found it among his father’s things.” the shopkeeper tells you, brushing some dust from the frame. at your comment about having never seen his store, he shrugs. “we do seem to pass through the public’s eye quite a bit. would you happen to be interested in buying the painting, miss?”

something in the pit of your gut tells you not to do it. you feel a strange sort of dread come over you at the idea of leaving it here though, and you find yourself nodding. “yeah, yeah i am interested. how much is it?”

you leave the shop now carrying not only multiple bags of clothes, but a painting of a girl who wasn’t you tucked under your arm as well. you’d asked the shopkeeper if he’d had any details on the man who’d brought the painting in, but he’d been unable to give you anything other than a short description and a reiteration that the man had really, truly been beautiful.

you’ve heard good things about the new art gallery that has just opened in downtown. showcasing young, talented artists desperate to make their breakthrough, students from the local art schools, students from local grade schools for fundraisers. 

the first bad thing you hear comes the monday after you hang the painting in your apartment.

there are whispers in the halls as you make your way to your desk, and it’s not long before a coworker approaches you, voice a hushed whisper. 

“there’s a showing at that new gallery,” she says. “i think you should be concerned.”

your face paints in confusion and you ask her why. 

“the paintings are all of someone who looks just like you.”

perhaps, you thought, the painting in your apartment hadn’t come from someone’s attic at all.

you go to the gallery after work, steeling yourself before heading through the door. the title of the exhibition, a display tells you, is “a lesson in pride”. 

you walk farther in and are greeted by a man sitting behind a reception desk. when he looks up at you, his face is frozen in shock. “it’s you.” he says, “you’re the muse.”

“excuse me,” you seethe, walking past him and into the exhibition hall. before you can even think about it, you’re surrounded by frame after frame, paintings all of a girl who look just like you. you hear footsteps coming down the hall after you, and you round quickly to see not only the receptionist, but a tall man you can only describe as ethereal. 

“are you the artist?” you ask, not even trying to hide the anger in your tone. when the man nods, you step closer to him and get into his face, barely restraining the urge to punch him. “how long have you been watching me?”

“i don’t watch you, please. your instagram was in my suggested accounts feed a few months ago. i’m sure with all those followers you have you must barely notice new ones.” the man smirks down at you and you’re not sure if you believe him. 

“what’s your account name?” you ask, opening the app on your phone. 

“it’s prideofjunhui, miss. while you spend the next few minutes searching, would you like to see more of the exhibition?”

“i most certainly would not.” you bite, still scrolling through your list of followers. it wasn’t your fault that you’d somehow amassed a following. you find his account and there it is, full of aesthetic photos from familiar parts of the city and his paintings. you turn to him, still confused on the origins of the painting in your apartment. “i need you to come with me.”

“with how angry you seem to be, i’m not sure that’s a good idea.” he teases, and you’re angrier at yourself because the longer you look at him the less angry you are. his bone structure and proportions are flawless, and he’s dressed in a way that makes it clear he knows how attractive he is. 

“i - i bought one of these paintings last weekend in a dingy old shop near my apartment. i want to know if it’s yours.” 

the man - junhui, you assume - smiles wide and nods. “of course i’ll come take a look.” 

junhui follows you back to your apartment and marvels at the painting where it hangs in your living room. 

“it’s not mine.” he says. he’s smiling still as he says it, filling you with unease.

“it looks just like yours.” you press. 

he only shrugs, before turning to you. “will you model for me?”

“will i - no, i’m not a model, i don’t model, i work in accounting.”

“you should be more proud of how beautiful you are.” he says softly, smiling at you warmly. 

“who’s to say i’m not?” you ask, eyebrows raised. “after all, you’ve seen my instagram. i have hundreds of thousands of followers. everyone there tells me how beautiful i am.”

junhui hums. “i’m not sure i believe you. you have a face made to be painted, you know. painting really captures the true soul of a person, i think.”

“that’s not always a good thing.” you mumble, thinking about the paintings you’d learned about in your one art history class in college. 

“no, no, it’s always a good thing.” junhui presses. “take me, for example. i’m absolutely certain that my paintings are the best. whether anyone else believes or supports that is irrelevant. that’s how you should feel about yourself. if i may be so bold,” he turns to you and takes your jaw in his hands, lifting it towards the ceiling. “you’re too beautiful to deal with anyone lesser.”

“what the fuck does that mean?” you jerk your head from his hands, and he’s smiling at you again, bright and wide.

“pretty people shouldn’t have to deal with the ugly ones.”

you thank junhui for his time and ask him to leave. he agrees only after giving you his number and making you promise to think about modelling for him.

you have always considered yourself to be a humble person. you’ve been society’s view of beautiful since childhood, but your parents had raised you to know that beauty comes from within. 

you know, deep in your heart, that a person’s physical appearance has no bearing on who they truly are. 

and yet, somehow, after your visit with junhui, that view begins to change. 

your coworker, the same one who’d told you about the gallery exhibition, comes up to you the next day at work to ask if you’d gone to see it.

last week, if asked to describe her, you’d have listed all of her kindnesses, would have said that she was pretty and meant it. but as she stands in front of you now, all you can notice are her physical imperfections. 

“it was fine.” you snip, “it turns out he follows my instagram, apparently i’m his muse now.” you find that you feel more pride saying that then you’d thought you would. 

“oh, well, i’m so glad it turned out to be nothing to worry about!” she smiles warmly and all you can see is the crookedness of her teeth. 

you grimace back, saying, “well i really should focus on this report.”

“oh! yes, of course.” she smiles again before returning to her own desk and you find yourself rolling your eyes.

as soon as she’s gone, panic rips through you - you’ve never been such a haughty person before. 

you take a deep breath and focus on the numbers in front of you. 

it happens again and again throughout the day - you catch yourself committing snippy little microaggressions to different coworkers, even the poor interns you’ve made a point to be nothing but kind to. you chalk it up to the lack of sleep you’d gotten the night before and do your best to make it through the rest of the day. 

you make it home and you’re surprised to find junhui waiting for you. he smiles at you, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

“hello, beautiful.” he says and you roll your eyes. “aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“i don’t remember inviting you over.” you reply, sticking your keys into the lock and turning, opening the door and moving through. 

junhui sticks his head through the doorway and sees you standing stock-still in your living room, mouth agape and eyes wide. you turn to him and lift a finger to point in the direction of the painting hanging on your wall. 

“the - the painting.” you whisper.

junhui joins you in the living room and follows your gaze. the painting has changed - the mouth is curled into a hideous grin, teeth crooked and stained, the face covered in small boils, the hair dry and unkempt. 

“how - how did this happen?” you can’t bring your voice above a hushed, fearful whisper. 

“well, can i ask - have you looked in a mirror lately?” 

your wide eyes turn to him before you slowly make your way into the nearby bathroom, and you scream at the sight you find there. your hands come up to cover your mouth before slowly lowering. 

your reflection is familiar but somehow changed - your cheekbones more pronounced, lips softer and fuller, your eyelashes long and your nose less pronounced. 

junhui joins you in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning on one arm. “i must say you look beautiful.”

“but - but how? why have i changed?” you push past him and out of the bathroom, refusing to look at the painting where it hangs. 

“does it really matter?” junhui asks. “you’ve gotten more beautiful. what could possibly matter more than that?”

you ignore him, desperately going over what had been different about that day. 

“of course there are things that matter more than that, junhui.” you shrill, eyes panicked. 

he shrugs. “i’m not so sure that’s true. i mean, if you look like this, you really could be a model. steal men’s hearts, their wallets, anything you want, probably.” the look on his face is full of something dangerous. he steps closer to you and takes your face into his hands, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks.

“all i’m saying is whatever you’re doing differently, maybe you should keep doing it. being beautiful has so many advantages. you should be proud of yourself.”

you close your eyes and sigh, but make no move to remove yourself from his hold. you don’t really want to. “why do you keep saying that?”

“what? you should be proud. you’re more beautiful than so many of the hideous things i see on a day to day basis.” junhui presses forward and places his lips on yours. you feel something warm in the pit of your stomach as his mouth moves over your lips. 

“you -” you pull away, panting, “you shouldn’t call people things.”

junhui laughs, “i think you’ll come around.”

junhui stays the night, and in the morning, both he and the painting are gone.

you feel a huge weight lifted from your shoulders, but in retrospect, perhaps you wish the painting would have stayed. served as a reminder.

your new attitude, you see, only grows worse. 

each day, you find yourself upping the ante. your face is constantly twisted in disdain by the fact that you, someone so ethereal, should have to be surrounded by others who are clearly below you.

you put on your prettiest pout when you ask your boss for your own office and a raise. enthralled, he’s unable to deny your request - even when your request includes firing the man whose position you’ll be taking. 

“i don’t like looking at him.” you tell your supervisor. “he makes me so uncomfortable.” it doesn’t matter that your discomfort comes from the poor man’s appearance. what matters is your discomfort.

the supervisor nods, eyes practically glazed over. you smile at him sweetly despite your inner disgust - really, he needed to learn how to shave and get his skin taken care of. 

the day after you get the raise, you quit. 

you’re finally going to be a model. agencies have been falling over their feet to hire you, and you feel like finally you’ll be able to show the world what real beauty looks like. 

this is where things really begin to go wrong. 

your face and your body stay as beautiful as ever, even as years full of drugs and partying and cheating and lying fly by - you never seem to age a day. 

you become caught in scandal after scandal; you’re caught with that man’s wife, that man’s husband, caught stumbling drunk into photoshoots that have to be rescheduled, caught high behind the stage of your most recent paris fashion week.

and yet you are kept around, too beautiful and entrancing to say no to. 

you often wonder if, as well as the enhanced beauty gifted to you by the painting, you’ve also gained the ability to bend others to your will. make them soft for your suggestions. not quite mind control, of course, more like...more like a siren’s song.

eventually, people start to become suspicious of the fact that you don’t seem to be aging. your competitors begin to wonder just how many surgeries you’ve had, which you always laugh heartily at when their claims are brought to your attention. 

“really,” they posit, “someone with her drug and alcohol history should look far, far worse. if anything, she looks younger than when she started out.”

but through it all, there remains one constant aside from your petty, destructive behavior. your dreams about junhui.

every night since he left and took the painting with him, you’ve dreamed of him. some nights it’s of him holding the painting and watching it wither into an unrecognizable, black charred mess within its frame. other nights you dream of him morphing into the old man from the shop, over and over until you wake up near tears. 

but the nightmares are bearable. you wake up in tears with a dull ache in your chest, but it passes - you remind yourself that you are the most beautiful woman in existence, that dreams and nightmares are merely made up by your brain, and nothing to worry about. 

nothing at all, until you return to your home in paris and find junhui waiting outside your door, looking like he too hasn’t aged a day since you last saw him. 

“well isn’t this a surprise.” you say flatly, and then you notice what’s leaning against the wall next to his legs.

he smiles, big and wide, and chuckles. “oh, i think you’ll be surprised all right. why don’t we go inside.”

you nod, hands shaking as you unlock the door and lead him inside. “i don’t - i don’t want to look at that.”

“oh, so you already know what it is, then?” junhui leans the painting against the wall. 

“i haven’t seen in you in years and this - this is what you bring me? i don’t want it.”

junhui laughs, a dark hollow sound. “oh, but i’ve never left you! i see you every night, don’t i? and there have been a few men, and some women, in the last few years. i enjoyed keeping an eye on you.”

fear spikes cold through your chest and you begin to struggle breathing. “what are you saying, exactly, junhui?”

“oh, my dear, you have no idea what you’ve been apart of. who you’re dealing with. the things me and my kind are capable of.” junhui’s grin is venomous, teeth sharp and jagged in his mouth. 

“you - your kind?” your entire body is trembling. the only thing you can think of is how you wished you’d never bought that fucking painting, never gone to that gallery.

“you’re smart, you must see what they say about you in the news. what those silly priests think about you over in the vatican. think about it, my dear.” junhui’s features are growing sharper and more ethereal the longer he stands in your presence. he nearly seems to glow. 

“i’m not a witch, and i’m not possessed, and you’re not - demons aren’t - they’re not real.” you can’t fight the realization as it floods your thoughts, and junhui laughs as you fall to your knees. 

“oh please. you thought you’d gone ten years without aging all by luck? i know you’re not that stupid. but i guess drugs can do that to even the smartest, prettiest girls.” junhui pats your head and you jerk away from his touch. he moves away from you and towards the wall where the painting leans, covered by a sheet. 

“there’s something i want you to see.” his voice is full of mirth in a way that sends chills up your spine. you can feel the tears streaming down your face. he removes the sheet and turns the frame towards you, setting it down just in front of you.

when you refuse to look up at it, junhui grabs a fistful of your hair and forces your head up. “look.” your eyes open despite your wishes for them not to, and you sob at what you see. 

there, in a pristine golden frame, the painting once of a beautiful girl is now warped. it looks almost as if it has been dunked in acid and repainted, the beautiful girl replaced by a haggard, older woman surrounded by rotted flowers and dark, murky waters. “i don’t understand.” you whisper, voice thick with tears.

“this, my dear, is what you look like on the inside! and oh, how the humble do fall.” junhui shifts his grip in your hair and forces you to look up at him. “and it wasn’t even hard for you, was it? you fell from grace so quickly. it was beautiful to watch, really.”

“get out.” you whisper, jerking away from his hold to no avail. he grips harder and you shout, “get out!” 

junhui’s laugh is maniacal, insane this time. he releases you and you fall forward, pushing yourself up and onto shaking legs. 

“how do i undo it?” you demand, although through tears and a shaky voice it sounds more like a beg. 

“you can’t just undo that many years of hateful pride, my dear. there’s really only one answer.” junhui chuckles again. “mortals are all really so, so foolish.”

you turn away from him to rub your eyes and when you turn back, more demands on your tongue, he’s gone. the door is still closed, the windows all locked, but you’re alone with the painting. 

you take the painting into the kitchen and set it onto your counter. you grab a butcher’s knife from the block next to your fridge, and holding it in both shaking hands, lift it high above your head. 

you hold for a few moments, and then with a scream, you plunge the knife into the painting, right into the woman’s chest. 

they don’t find your body for a few days. when they do, you’re lying on the floor of your kitchen, body aged ten years and nearly unrecognizable.

cause of death: a stab wound to the chest. 

[mollymauk-teafleak]

A Summer’s Ball...

(Happy birthday to my darling girlfriend @childofdustandashes! Thank you for being (sort of) patient and I hope this justifies the wait. I love you so very much and am continuously proud of you on a daily basis, you’re brave and kind and compassionate and funny and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Congratulations on one more rotation around the Sun, hope you like your present!)

There’s a lot of things Theo was only willing to do because her best friend Pip asked it of her.

Going with him to the midnight opening of the new Star Wars film. And then going to see it for a second time the very next day. Giving him an arm to stagger home drunkenly from prom and covering for him when Alex and Eliza asked if he was okay, making up something semi-convincing about food poisoning. Listening to him rant and rave after his team lost a hockey game, even though she still only had the most tenuous grasp on the actual rules of the game (and privately did think that maybe his tackle was a little uncalled for, seeing as he was the goalie). Keeping her eyes open when they watched Jaws on one of their many sleepovers so she could tap him on the shoulder when the scary part was over. Giving him some of her health potion when they played video games and his idiocy had left him clinging to life.

Flying out to France where he now lived, had lived for five months, to go to the opening of his boyfriend’s new art exhibit, getting all dressed up and staying in heels for an unreasonably long period of time while he whirled her around the room, introducing her to everyone, making her blush with exaggerated descriptions of how well she was ‘kicking ass’ at law school. In fairness, she was getting pretty damn good grades but people who’d only known her for five seconds didn’t really need to be told that.

Though maybe she was being unfair. It was hardly difficult, drinking exquisite wine that somehow tasted even better just by dividends of being drunk while in Paris, picking at hilariously fancy hours d’oeuvres (though caviar tasted gross and no one would ever be able to convince her otherwise, no matter the price tag) and looking that the beautiful art Georges de Lafayette was finally getting to display to the public. Philip had sounded so excited when he’d called a few weeks ago with the news and when he’d casually mentioned that it just so happened to coincide with Theo’s spring break from college and he’d split the air fare with her and make his couch up for her to sleep on…well, Theo hadn’t been able to say no.

And seeing Philip again really was wonderful, getting to spend time with him and mess around and giggle at people’s ridiculously fancy outfits and put on over exaggerated accents as they clinked their glasses more times than was necessary. Five months wasn’t a really long time in the grand scheme of things, Theo knew, but it was an insanely long time for your best friend to be on the other side of the globe. You couldn’t get one of the fierce, warm, patented Philip Hamilton hugs over Skype or text.

Though, in all honestly, some of these paintings were displaying rather more of her best friend than she’d even wanted to see.

“It’s not me!” Pip protested weakly, though his intense blush was giving him away, “It’s the Greek god, Apollo, that’s what Georges said!”

“Oh yeah?” Theo arched her eyebrow, wincing at the nearly wall sized watercolour towering in front of them, “A Puerto Rican Apollo with freckles and curly hair and looking absolutely one hundred per cent like you. Buck ass naked. Painted by your boyfriend.”

Philip looked like he’d want nothing more than to sink into his suit like a turtle, “You can’t really see anything…that bad…”

“Tell that to my burning retinas, dude,” Theo elbowed him lightly, “And I don’t even want to know what that gold stuff dripping all over you is…”

“It’s ichor,” he whined plaintively, pulling his long, puffed out curls down over his face.

“Whatever it is, it’s making me need another glass of champagne,” Theo rolled her eyes, though her rouge painted lips were being tugged against her will into a smile.

It was warming her heart knowing her best friend was so loved, that he had someone willing to paint portraits of him just because he was so beautiful, that the happily ever after he’d crossed a whole ocean for was worth it. Even if that love was really gross.  

Speaking of which, Theo suddenly found Pip being plucked from her side by the man of the hour, Georges himself, and being kissed in a way that frankly had no place outside of historic photos from VE Day and cheesy romantic movies. Though she did forgive him when the tall Frenchman resurfaced and pressed a glass of her favourite roséinto her hand. No one knew their wine quite like Georges.

“Theo!” he beamed, giving her a kiss on the cheek too, making her giggle, “I wanted to tell you, my sister, Virginie, she could come after all! She’s over by the bar, you two are acquainted, yes?”

Theo felt a blush bursting across her face and was suddenly very aware of a knowing smirk from Philip where he was hanging off Georges’ arm.

Acquainted was maybe a bit of an understatement…

More accurate would be to say that she’d carried a torch for Virginie de Lafayette for as long as she could remember, one of those crushes that came in youth and was all encompassing, undying, that didn’t care about things like the logistics of there being on ocean between you and the object of the crush. Or the fact that said crush was way out of your league.

Theo had let herself get her hopes up, that summer four years ago, the one where she and Pip had spent six almost dreamlike weeks in France staying with the Lafayette’s. Though that was never how Theo remembered it, she always remembered it as the summer of her first kiss.

It had been shy and sweet and too brief, in her opinion, although no span of time would have been long enough to fully appreciate kissing Ginnie. It had tasted of the wine they’d been illicitly drinking straight from the bottle, the already heady taste made even more rich and full by the fact that they weren’t supposed to be drinking it, Georges had snuck it from the cellar after his parents had gone to bed. It tasted even better on Ginnie’s tongue as a stupid dare had demanded a kiss of the two of them, though Theo couldn’t help but think that she’d been on pins and needles waiting for it ever since she’d arrived. Up close, she’d been able to see how Ginnie’s eyelashes lightened further along their length, how they fanned out so perfectly around eyes that were such a sweet mix of amber and brown, she’d seen how her nose wrinkled a little as she smiled. Theo even saw the things other people would foolishly call imperfections; the few pimples across her cheeks hiding under the artfully applied layer of make up, the way her ears jutted prominently out from amongst the gorgeous falling curtain of braids, the smudge of lipstick on her teeth. All of that only made Ginnie feel more real in a way that made Theo dizzy. This girl actually was real, she was real and she was here and Theo was getting to kiss her.

No matter how short and swift the kiss had been, Theo hadn’t forgotten a single detail of it.

When it had become obvious that Pip and Georges were growing closer and closer over that weekend, trying to hide it by insisting the marks on Pip’s neck were just bruises from wrestling, when they came back from a long midnight walk with the back of Georges’ pants and shirt and the knees of Pip’s jeans covered in grass stains, when they’d tried with blushing faces to insist that the noises emanating from Georges’ room every night were just leaky pipes, Theo had let herself hope. She’d let herself steal glances at Ginnie, more often than she knew she should, thinking…maybe…hoping… They’d spent so much time together, grown so close, she couldn’t help but lie awake at night thinking of the right way to ask her, the most casual way to bring it up. But all of her words had sounded clumsy and thick in her head, stumbling and stupid, in a way that only confirmed what her self consciousness was already screaming at her was true. That there was no way someone like Ginnie would ever want to be with her.

Still, she might have risked it. But then the summer was over and the chance was gone. Theo had tried to shake it off in the years since then, telling herself that it was just a silly summer fancy and it would never come up again. When would she even seeGinnie again?

And yet, here she was. In France. In Paris. Seeing Ginnie again.

She hadn’t changed so much in the few years they’d been reduced to purely text and voice based communications. She was taller, though maybe that was just the impossibly, elegantly tall shoes she was currently striding towards them on. Her braids were still there though now they were streaked with mint green rather than the bright red Theo saw in her dreams ever since that summer; they were swept up in a bun so as not to detract from the glittering golden collar necklace she wore draped effortlessly around her collarbone to accentuate the gold tones in her dress (green, of course, why wouldn’t she match her clothes to her hair dye?).

Even in the startlingly dramatic outfit, with the taller, more toned legs, the more mature form, what was important about Ginnie hadn’t changed one bit. Her bright smile, her kind eyes that made everyone she looked at feel like the most important person in the world, the way she did everything with such enthusiasm and didn’t care if it meant she had to sacrifice a little dignity.

Basically, everything Theo had first fallen for.

Which left her with a frankly pretty embarrassing redness to her cheeks and dry, uncomfortable scratchiness in her throat as Ginnie swept over to the three of them, excitement shining in her eyes along with the golden reflected light arcing off the impressive chandeliers above them. Theo quickly made to turn away a little, to shrink away from the main focus like she always did, to try and gather herself and make herself socially presentable while Ginnie said her other hellos.

But that glow on Ginnie’s face wasn’t for them. It was for Theo.

“Theodosia!” she cried, voice alight with too-gorgeous-to-be-insincere happiness, “How has it been this long, this is a tragedy, I cannot apologise enough!”

Theo made a soft whooshing sound from the force of the hug Gin pulled her into, though she absolutely wasn’t about to start complaining, not when she was getting such an up close and personal introduction to Ginnie’s heavenly perfume.

“Hi…” she squeaked, wishing she could think of something more coherent to say. So much for being the kick ass, collected law school student Philip had been painting her as all night, she was blushing and sweating like a goddamn high schooler, “Yeah, i-it’s been way too long, I missed you…”

“I missed you too!” Ginnie beamed like Theo saying that couldn’t have made her any more delighted, “I kept asking and asking Pip to invite you over so I could see you again and now he finally has, I am officially stealing you away from him, come on, we’re getting drinks.”

Theo blinked, a little caught up in the whirlwind of rapid fire French and the cartoon bluebirds and love hearts she was pretty sure must be dancing around her head. She turned to look at Philip, to say something about meeting back up with them later to head back to his apartment, but that smug, excited look was still on his face, only flustering her more so she flipped him off instead. His giggles followed her and Ginnie over to the elegant, neon lit, white marble bar.

“A martini, please,” Ginnie seemed to somehow just summon a bartender within a second, “And a glass of rose.” She turned to Theo, smiling, “That’s your favourite, right?”

Theo could only nod, her heart feeling like a butterfly trapped under an upturned glass, flittering around within her ribcage.

“I really was so excited you were coming over,” Ginnie pierced a cocktail cherry as she spoke, “I hate how we haven’t had much time to talk recently.”

“Well,” Theo tried for a casual tone, “I’ve had school and your business has been doing so well. Well done on that, by the way. Serious congratulations.”

Ginnie laughed gently, the sound more beautiful to Theo than any of the classical music they’d been playing that night, “And my teachers used to say my doodling dresses on the corner of my schoolwork would get me nowhere, hmm?”

Theo chuckled, taking her glass as it was put in front of her, grateful to have something to do with her hands. She wished there was some kind of switch in her brain she could flick to instantly become one of the effortless, witty, confident people swarming all over this party, the kind of people Ginnie must spend most of her days around. Maybe then she’d have been able to untie her tongue all those summers ago and actually have a chance at asking her-

“Theodosia, would you like to join me for dinner sometime?”

Theo froze for one long, agonising second before she started coughing and hacking, spraying probably very expensive wine all over the place.

Great.

“I’m so sorry!” Ginnie flustered, putting a hand on her back, “I’m sorry, that was so sudden, I just couldn’t think of how to ask like a normal person, I just saw you and you look so pretty and it just kind of spilled out…”

“Wait…wait…” Theo tried to cough up her words, managing to wrestle some kind of control of her lungs back, though her eyes were now streaming and she was pretty damn sure Philip and Georges were laughing their heads off somewhere to the side, “You…you want me…me…?!”

Ginnie looked confused, somehow managing to make even that expression look goddess-like, “Of course? You don’t have to say yes, of course, I just…oh, I just didn’t want to let another chance go by without asking you.”

Theo shook her head, taking Ginnie’s hands in her own. They were so much bigger than hers but their fingers threaded together so easily like they’d been made to be that way.

“Yes,” she breathed, voice still a little wheezy from nearly dying but some of it was due to emotion, “I’d love to go out with you. Honestly, if you wanted to go right now, I’d be completely on board with that.”

Ginnie giggled and beamed. Her nose still wrinkled a little when she smiled…

As Theo was leaving the party, hand in hand with Ginnie, she looked over her shoulder to see Pip grinning his head off, shooting her a little wave she returned with a smile.

There were a lot of things she only did because Philip asked her to.

But she had a hell of a lot to thank him for, too.

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Paige you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Augustus Rookwood.

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Welcome back Paige! To hear from you was such a pleasant surprise and to have you back is even better! We never know what Augustus is going to do and that’s what makes him so great! He’s complex and interesting and we’re ready to have him back on the dash!

application beneath the cut 

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Paige, 25, she/her, EST. I’m from Tennessee in the United States!

ACTIVITY

I’m currently having to share a laptop with my mom, and Chronic Fatigue keeps me pretty dead for most of the day, but I plan to get online at least once daily to reply to anything I owe. So 5/10 maybe? I mean, I’m ALWAYS available via chat though, to plot or just talk.

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Originally, Alexis, your former (original?) Rabastan. Then I was here for months, left, returned for a year, left, and I’m baaaaaaaaack! Lol You know I can’t stay away from my trash son.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

In the past, I said Hermione without hesitation. I was always the one who felt a bit left out when new to a school, the one who lived to make teachers happy, and was a little too weird to make friends on my own without an intervening force. However, now I would say Minerva. In my friend group, I tend to be “mom”. I use logic and my mediating skills to make sure everyone stays out of too much trouble, work on guiding them through tough situations, and I always offer snacks when someone is upset. Also, cats are my life, and if I could become one, I would. Though even with the benefit of magic, the process would be incredibly complicated and I’m super lazy.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nope!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Augustus Rookwood.

Middle name: Xavier.

Name’s full meaning: Majestic, splendid, bird/forest

FACE CLAIM

Daniel Sharman

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

What I put in my first apps: I’ve always been drawn to the darker characters. Especially the ones who appear very controlled when in the public eye, and then “let loose” when they’re behind closed doors. Then there was mention of his family basically putting him on a pedestal. I’ve always loved (and had a muse for) characters that have a little too much responsibility put on their shoulders by their parents, and then begin to crack under the pressure in highly destructive ways.

Augustus seems like the type of person who originally started out trying to be the best son he could be. Who nodded and smiled at his parents’ plans for his future, worked his hardest in school, and then one day realized there was someone out there (The Dark Lord) to whom he could devote himself, and not have to be so perfect and “good”.

Which is why he will last in this war. No one suspects the “good little quiet boy” who kept his nose in his books, and his potentially deadly spells to himself. Not even the Dark Lord wanted him at first. Not until Augustus showed him exactly what he was capable of, behind a locked door, when everyone else was out trying to make as much noise for their cause as possible.

Now that he has an excuse to use the dark skills he’s kept to himself for years, Augustus kills when asked to and tortures just for the fun of it. However, he draws the line at children, and will convince another member of the group to kill/torture them when sent to “take care of” an entire family. He can’t exactly explain why he’s protective of children, or why that mindset changes as soon as they’ve reached an age when they can defend themselves. Perhaps it’s just too easy, and he likes a challenge.

Now that I’ve actually played him: He evolved over time and his ability to suppress his emotions slipped drastically depending on who he was with. There were far more bad influences than good ones, and soon, a few too many people knew his secrets and he was caught. Since then, he has retreated back into himself as much, if not more than before, and mainly focuses on his job and making the Dark Lord proud. And God, he feels like screaming every minute of every day. As the climax of the war draws nearer, situations become more and more tense. The whispers behind his back make his skin crawl, and although he knows he will be protected if he lashes out, he swallows his curses like acid. He was betrayed once, and won’t let it happen again.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Preferred ships? Augustus/everyone, to be honest. Augustus will have sex with anyone. Long time friends, people he wants to manipulate, strangers, whatever. Sex isn’t tied to emotion for him. It is purely the pursuit of pleasure. Hell, he would probably have sex with the Dark Lord without even being commanded to do so. Because yolo? But romance is an entirely different animal. It requires trust and emotional connection and way too much of oneself. Therefore, Augustus has only felt such a connection once, and he’s not sure he wants to repeat it. However, he could easily be in a relationship or marriage with someone out of convenience or friendship. Though no monogamy or cute stuff unless pretending for the public. He thinks it would be selfish to tie someone down like that if he can’t offer them what they need emotionally.

Overall, Augustus identifies as an aromantic pansexual (though those labels aren’t exactly a thing in the 70s/80s), as a cis male (he/him/his). There has been some gender experimentation with polyjuice potion, but that was purely for fun.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

Patronus: Lynx. (Lore states that the secretive lynx represents controlled power, individualism, and sharp-sightedness. Lynx people are generally exceedingly observant, quiet, intelligent, and curious. Though their independent nature can strike some as aloof, they are often excellent guides and steadfast friends.) Boggart: Someone outing him for what he’s done. Such as, a member of the Wizengamot reading a list of his crimes. Wand: Hazel (Wandlore states that “A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings.”), 10 inches, Dragon heartstring core, Unyielding.

Blog: http://avgvstvs.tumblr.com

LINK TO VISUAL AESTHETIC

Brief playlist: “Choke” - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me, “Strangers” - Halsey (ft. Lauren Jauregui), “Run” - AWOLNATION, “The Last One” - Black Veil Brides

Aesthetic: On one hand, he’s a smoking gun, hands dripping with blood, wet leather after a surprise storm, teeth on pale skin, the way a bottle of alcohol holds the scent when empty, skin rubbed against a rough brick wall, and sins in hallowed places. But then he’s also the smell of old books, chalk covered hands from solving impossible problems, secrets whispered to empty rooms, lies screamed into crowded places, nails digging into palms, tantrums behind locked doors, cold chains, hot coffee, lightning and hurricanes. But then as an Unspeakable, there’s all this mystery surrounding his job, and the strict rules he must follow.  So order and perfection. But as a Death Eater, there’s all this chaos and mess. Augustus in school was far different. Sweaters with sleeves a little too long, glasses to read that kept slipping off, smudged parchment, top marks hidden from fellow students, praise from teachers sounding too much like the praise from his parents, the death of a sibling and the expectation to immediately get over it, sitting in windows and watching the world move too fast. Everything was perfectly imperfect, and he did everything he could to grasp and absorb the chaos around him, and hold it tight.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “I would not invent my own. I would simply rework the pre-existing Obliviate and make it much more permanent and impossible to reverse. The incantation would be obliviscaris in perpetuum (forget forever) and it would be invaluable for those who wish to use it on victims, or for those who have something traumatic or highly sensitive in their past that they’d rather forget..”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: “I would choose to take the Dark Lord with me, obviously, despite him never being one to follow someone else. His powers surpass anything the forest could throw at us. Also, I would bring a time-turner with me, due to its ability to help me return to any moment before I run into trouble, and allow me to take a different path.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? “Those that require me to go against my deceitful nature and be completely honest with people. Like, a decision that if I am being truthful, would end my carefully constructed public image.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “I would never want someone accusing me of something, whether I did the deed or not. How I spend my time is an entirely private matter, and I would rather not have others prying into my life, no matter what they believe I have done.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

While Augustus is glad that the Ministry is fully within the clutches of the Dark Lord’s side, he disagrees with the eradication of non-purebloods. He has never been a blood purest due to his childhood as an outcast and the discovery that those with colorful family trees tend to be the kindest. And after his time spent in America surrounded by Muggles, Augustus doesn’t really give a shit who your parents are. He plans to do almost everything he can to avoid a total genocide. Sure, murder and mayhem are fun, but one must draw a line at the slaughter of friends. Perhaps. While he has no plans to actively work against his fellow Death Eaters, he will not turn down direct orders. And for now, his orders are to stay focused on his work in the Department Of Mysteries. He has a plan for The Dark Lord that only someone who works in the Love Chamber can properly research.

WRITING SAMPLE

Augustus hadn’t been in this to make friends. Since childhood he’d fully accepted that he was born to be a loner. Besides, everyone else just got in his way. But as he sat, with cold metal chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles, clinking every time he tried (and failed) to find a more comfortable position, he felt truly and utterly alone. For the first time in his life, he began wishing there was someone by his side. Anyone, really. Just another warm body to deflect some of the angry, betrayed looks coming from the seats in which sat the Wizengamot and others. At that point, he would have even accepted a few of his least favorite acquaintances.

Unfortunately, everyone he knew was either dead, in Azkaban, or in the audience, watching with bated breath. This trial was one that had brought out spectators from every department of the Ministry. NO ONE had suspected the quiet wizard who went directly to and from the Department Of Mysteries every day, never making enemies or even standing out very much. He’d played his role perfectly. Even now, he kept his true self behind a facade, acting the part of the wrongly accused. Because he truly intended to leave the trial a free man. What good was the word of Karkaroff against his? The headmaster of a foreign school known to breed dark wizards, against a ‘friend’ of many at the Ministry? He’d spent countless hours cultivating false relationships with these people, earning their trust, and then gathering secrets. And until his name was spat by Karkaroff, it hadn’t so much as flashed through people’s minds. Not since he was pardoned all those years ago after his interrogation at the hands of Aversio.

The questions were easily answered with lies, and he even asked some of his own. “Where were you on the night of (…)?” “Where was I? Where were your Aurors? How could you let this happen?” “Who else answers to He Who Must Not Be Named?” “Clearly you’re bringing anyone in these days. If I pointed at any of you, would you put them on trial too?” Until the lies weren’t enough to get him released, and a vial of Veritaserum was brought out.

Rookwood started to sweat in that moment. His breath became ragged and his hands began to violently shake. If he was being honest with himself, he would have realized that it was sheer terror he was experiencing. As the potion was carried across the room and uncorked, he’d half expected someone to burst into the room and save him. The other part of him knew his entire life was about to change for the worse. Even as the liquid was forced into his mouth, possible scenarios of escape danced through his mind. If only the chains were slightly loose. Maybe one of his fellow Death Eaters sat amongst the crowd. Yaxley? Cassius? Dolores? Perhaps someone would have a sudden change of heart and remember how impossible it seemed for him to be a part of this. But alas, the chains were magic, all of his comrades had already been captured or killed, and after the trial of Barty Crouch Jr., no one trusted even the least suspicious person.

And then words were spilling past his lips, almost too fast, with the sting of Veritaserum still on his tongue. When asked about his dealings with the Death Eaters, he held nothing back, despite the deep ache within his very soul that got stronger with each new thing he revealed. Both the Wizengamot and the audience gasped as he told details of the lives he’d destroyed. How he’d stalked several entire families before torturing and killing them. The bodies he’d left in alleyways. The memories he’d stolen from those he’d left bloody and beaten. The way it made him feel when people begged. He told them it was an almost sexual satisfaction, and the Veritaserum-induced smirk that went along with his words must have been the final nail in his coffin, because the trial ended swiftly after that.

Augustus was forced to watch as his beloved wand was snapped in half in front of him, and he was immediately taken to a cold, damp room where an elderly wizard stripped him of his fine, embroidered robes and a pair of striped, dirty ones were shoved into his hands. He would be taking a portkey to Azkaban directly from that room, without a chance to say goodbye to anyone. Not that he cared very much for anyone in his life, especially those not currently residing in the prison he was destined for, but it was all very sudden. Like a flower being plucked from a vast garden and shoved into a dusty old vase, just waiting to die.

And in this little vase of his, he was alone.

[call-me-jennn]

best wishes.

I haven’t written a latelys in a while, and I don’t know about anyone else but I am quite sick of listening to myself rant on about all my deepest thoughts. But disclaimer, probably will end up doing that anyways.

Mama Bear, in her infinite wisdom, has always pressed upon me the importance of taking care of my skin. She did fail to teach me any methods as to actually taking care of it, so pretty much the only things that stuck were that tomatoes are good for your skin and don’t pick at your face. Problem is, I don’t like tomatoes. And I’m pretty addicted to picking at my face. As I’ve been improving at self-care, I’ve been better at knowing when I can use an extractor tool to clear out those pesky clogged pores. But last week I was no good, and I blew up a pimple pretty badly, aahhhh. Really really lucky for me that masks are required. This is kind of weird to admit, but sometimes I kinda like it when I be looking unattractive. I’ve said this a million times, I think I’m pretty okay. As much as I like the days when I feel super cute for the confidence boost, I respect the occasional break out to put me in my place. You can hide a lot of imperfections with make up but there’s no hiding a blemish that size and it’s a good reminder not to care so much about looks and more on health. Aka, wash your face lazy Jenn.

In other vanity news, finally got a fresh chop. I don’t know why, I think long hair is so sexy. You know who isn’t sexy? Hehehe, *raises hand*. Growing up I always hated haircuts. My aunt was our hairstylist and I think she tended to take liberties with our hair and I’d feel like it was always too short. Oooh young Jennifer would not be happy with my length right now. I like it! I’ve said that since I’ve met her, my hair girl is very important to me. She’s the perfect combination of fast, good, and affordable. Fast being the most important, it’s really difficult for me to sit still that long without getting anxious. Still gonna take some time to get used to it forsure, but I do really like it.

A patient mistook me for the anesthesiologist this week. He just casually asked, as I was prepping him for surgery, “are you the anesthesiologist?” It still catches me by surprise how often it’s been happening lately. Not the being confused for the doctor specifically, but the amount of acceptance that people have with the idea of it. Or even comfort that people have with asking me questions and listening to me teach them. I got so used to the fear in people’s eyes as they questioned what a small child like me was doing so close to their mouth. Could it be I’m standing taller or carrying myself with more confidence? Is it my soothing demeanor? Most likely it’s because I’m wearing two masks and patients can only see half my face. I have finally developed the seasoned amount of dead in my eyes. My eyes have a look that says “yes, I’ve read the latest American Dental Society of Anesthesiology publication, and I won’t let your face catch on fire” or “hey, it’s okay if you stop breathing, I know where the ON button for the oxygen is”. (Jk, that’s not what you do if a patient stops breathing lol). How mature and adult am I???

Daddy called this week to check to see how things are going. I don’t know when it happened, but our relationship has just blossomed so amazingly. Somethings in the water lately. We’ve reached unprecedented levels. “I was wrong” levels. Offered unprovoked from on both sides, I might add. Who would’ve thought either of us were capable. We talk about everything, the past, the future, even politics. I finally told him, “you know, back then, I thought you would’ve taken me with you.” I tell him of all my childish feelings and thoughts. But he responds to me as an adult. “If I were to have taken someone, it wouldn’t have been you. You didn’t need me.” It wasn’t what I expected to hear after all these years. And as an adult I understand his explanation. I hear people say that it’s hard in Asian families being an adult and still treated as a child. But it's not easy being the child and learning to address and accept things as an adult. I guess those people would say I got the better type of struggle to have such wonderful parents. I’ve been overcome with wonderment lately at my luck, pinching myself on how things have turned out. It’s hard to be unhappy about anything when I have a clean room and such loving and supportive parents.

“It wouldn’t have made you less of my daughter if you worked at McDonald’s. McDonald’s or a doctor, everyone has to get up and go to work everyday. I just don’t want you to struggle. You’re smart Trang. When you couldn’t do school, you went and found a job as an assistant to provide for yourself. And now you can try, you did that for yourself too. I’m proud. I’m very proud of all my kids. If I retired and returned home now, I’d return a proud father.”

what did I do to derserve this?

In my life thusfar, I’ve kinda had an unusual amount of bad experiences. Like, stuff that you never expect to actually happen to anybody. It’s kinda depressing and weird to sit down and really think about, so I don’t dwell on it. I’ve joked that I wonder if my parents had to sell my soul. But maybe my luck is turning because I’m just so happy. I’ve been carrying around all this love and it’s a forcefield around me. Year of the Ox baybeeeeee.

wishing others luck and joy, love and courage. 

[briann812]

[M] I Miss You (So Fuck Me Already) Part 1

Author: BrianN812

Pairing: Kyungsoo+Jongin

Word Count: 2817 words

Summary: Kyungsoo is annoyed that Jongin keeps ignoring him and he seeks the help of Baekhyun to get the sex going.

   AN: Legit there is no smut, but there is a mastrubation scene so I have to put the M rating. I’m in a study hall rn so sorry if there are typos, I’m rushing.

———————————————————————————————————–

   Ever since Kai started teaching dance classes to pay rent for the dorm that he and Kyungsoo shared, they haven’t had some intimate alone time in almost a month. And Kyungsoo wanted to put a stop to it… Immediately.

   He tried everything he was comfortable with doing such as making more time for Kai, or asking him out on a date, and even just talking to him about it. Unfortunately Kai was way too responsible for his own good and was putting work before the relationship. Apparently it’s so that “We can have the best time together after saved a lot of money.” Except the relationship isn’t going at the speed that Kyungsoo wants and he’s seriously considered being single, then he realized that he was a dependent wreck without Kai.

 Unfortunately for Baekhyun, Kyungsoo’s best friend since childhood, he had always been the box that Kyungsoo puts his complaints in. Whether it be about school, what to wear, and even on how to deal with Kai, Baekhyun was always the one that Kyungsoo went to for life advice.

 Banging in on Baekhyun’s apartment door, he shouted “Baekkie help me I’m in the middle of a life crisis!" 

   Baekhyun was still sleeping, or in his case lying in bed after having one too many shots the night before.. I mean come on it was Friday night. Not wanting to deal with the owl eyed boys crap at 8am, he yelled "Leave me along  I’ll deal with this later!”

   Rolling his eyes he said in retaliation “Pleeeeease!”

   "You can’t make me!“ Screamed Baekhyun.

 "You gave me a key remember?” Kyungsoo started to fumble with his jacket to fish them out.

 "Shit…“ Baekhyun mumbled as he heard a rattle, "wait two seconds.” He clumsily stood up to open the door and greeted Kyungsoo with a face of hate and the bare minimum that counted as clothes.

 "How much did you drink last night?“ He asked.

 "Enough to make me wish you would leave.” He sarcastically replied.

   "Mm" Kyungsoo hummed ignoring the statement, “Anyways I’m having problems with Jongin HELP ME!” He said as he shook Baekhyun back in forth. Baekhyun smacked him across the head.

 "Cut it out what’s the problem?“ He asked. At first the thought of getting Kyungsoo out of the house seemed like the best option in the world, but hearing the desperation in his bestie’s voice, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit concerned.

   "So you know how Jonginnie has that job right?” He nodded, “Well ever since he got it be been getting to spend less time with him and I haven’t been laid in a MONTH! I haven’t let him stick it up my ass in a MONTH! Do you know how frustrated I am?!” He sounded like he was insane but that didn’t really matter at the moment.    Shocked at his friend’s choice of words he simply replied “And what the cuckoo you want me to do?" 

   "You said that one time for Chanyeol hyung’s birthday that you got a lot of kinky shit at a sex shop and had the best fuck of your life. Can you take me to the shop and help me pick out a few things?” He asked sweetly.

   Confused on which thing he is more surprised by (Kyungsoo asking to go to a sex shop or the fact that he’s asking him to help him pick things out) he said “Sure… But can we go tomorrow? I don’t think that I’m recovered from being hung over enough to go shopping in public." 

   "KK” said Kyungsoo. 

 Back at home the next day, Kai was ready to go to work when Kyungsoo was about to leave as well. 

   "Where are you going babe?“ Asked Kai. He was busy putting on a shirt.  —————————————————————————————————–

 "I’m going grocery shopping.” Kyungsoo lied blankly. He sucked at lying and he knew it, but he couldn’t say that he was shopping for anal beads and lingerie with Baekhyun.     Without even letting Kai say that he went yesterday, he said a quick half-hearted bye then rushed out the door. Kai was least to say, dumbfounded.

   Heading to Baekhyun’s house, he had no idea about what was going to happen. So many thoughts racing through his head. What if it doesn’t work? Will he think I’m weird? Will he break up with me? He almost thought about canceling on Baekhyun just to do it the old fashioned way of talking about it with Kai. Then he realized that he needed to do this to save his sex life.

   It was relatively 1 in the afternoon and he knew that Baekie was awake. i mean it was socially acceptable to start drinking so of course Baekhyun would be there. Knocking quietly, he hoped Baekhyun wouldn’t hear it just so they wouldn’;t have to go. But he did initiate it, so it wasn’t his friend’s fault. Opening the door slowly Baekhyun walked out in impossibly skinny jeans and a shirt that showed almost half his chest.

   "You look like a slut.“ Said Kyungsoo jokingly.

   "You know me too well!” Baekhyun said playfully, “ Anyways, let’s go!” getting into Baekhyun’s car, they drove off to the unknown (well to Kyungsoo) location. Driving almost silently, all you could hear was the rustling of leaves nearby and the bumps in the imperfect road. It was Baekhyun to initiate the conversation.

   "So what are you looking for to spice up sexy time?“ asked Baekhyun.

   "I’m not sure,” Kyungsoo replied timidly, “I just need something distracting enough for Jongin to kip his class tomorrow and fuck me.”

   "Well that’s a lovely image to see,“ Baekhyun said dryly, "I’d almost buy it on DVD.” Kyungoo hit baekhyun on the shoulder half jokingly “Hey I’m driving!” The victim screeched.

   Arriving in the at the shopping square Kyungsoo exclaimed, “Wait, I’ve never seen a sex shop here.” Then Baekhyun smirked then drove into a larger ally way and drove a ways straight till the sex shop. “Oh,,” Kyungsoo murmered under his breath.

   Entering into the store all Kyungsoo could see was a very elegant looking store that could almost be a boutiue if only there weren’t dildos lining the walls, mannequins with lace lingerie on then, and sex toys and supplies on the many shelves that are provided for the shoppers pleasure. Baekhyun took a shopping basket where they started towards the lingerie sets.

   "Um, Baekhyun… I’m a dude.“ Kyungsoo said with owl eyes. 

   "That doesn’t mean that dominant men don’t want want to see their little boys in lace bra and panties that barely cover their ass.” he gave Kyungsoo a playful, light spank that made the small boy blush redder than he already was. There were sets in blue, black, pink, red, and legit every color you could imagine. Kyungsoo was staring at the racks in awe. If this isn't sin, he doesn’t know what is. All he could do is watch his friend a set of small pink lingerie into the basket.

   "Why pink?“ Asked Kyungsoo.

   "It brings out the color in your lips.” Answered Baekhyun. Kyungsoo was known for having pink, heart shaped lips that his boyfriend loved to kiss so much. Now what used to be a full blown makeout session just turned into pecs in and out of their dorm door. That pissed Kyungsoo off, so he just nodded in agreement.

   Next they went to the changing room where Baekhyun shoved Kyungsoo in the changing stall with the set of pink lingerie. Baekhyun then shut the door to let Kyungsoo fight wor himself in the wild.

   "I’ll be back in about 2 seconds.“ Baekhyun said. While he was taking off his clithes, he could briefly hear Baekhyun saying to the man at the front desk, "Can I get a chastity belt that’s 3 and a half inches or 4 if you don’t have half sizes?” Kyungsoo half scowled half laughed. His friend knew him so well, almost too well. Coming back a minute late, Kyungsoo had somehow figured out how to hook the bra and Baekhyun came back with a 3 and a half inch chastity belt.

   "What’s this for?“ Kyungsoo asked.

   "So you can’t orgasm unless Jongin lets you.” replied Baekhyun cheerfully. Kinky Kyungsoo thought in his head. He put the chastity belt under the panties and he could see soomething small poking in front of the panties. 

   Baekhyun then knocked on the door and Kyungsoo let him in to the changing room the size of a janitor’s classroom. Baekhyun looked so proud like a parent that just saw it’s child graduate High School. 

   "You look so beautiful!“ Baekhun said while wiping away a fake tear from his eye.

   "Oh shut up and tell me if we’re buying it or not.” Baekhyun nodded and stepped out to let him get changed back into his clothes. He changed back into his normal clothes and went back out.

   "Ok let’s keep going.“  Baekhyun then led them to the wall of dildos and picked out a glass one that was about 6 inches and not thicker than 2 inches. "Suck this while your fucking yourself with a vibrator. In Kyungsoo’ mind, it was very erotic. I mean, it would be erotic in anyone’s mind, but to Kyungsoo, it was like a sin that would bring him all the way down to hell. 

   "Why do I need to do that?” He asked tentatively. He was nervous for the answer. He almost didn’t want to hear it.

   "It’s to give it the impression that you have a dark oral fixation and that will make him want to pound your mouth until he jizzes all over your pretty face. It’s as simple as that.“  Said Baekhyun with the most innocent smile he had ever seen in his life. The sound of it almost made him hard. Only the real thing could make him hard. Really hard.

   "Um… Ok Baekie.” He was scared to listen to his friend but with the amount they were about to but they weren’t about to back off now.

   Next was to the place where they needed the thing Baekhyun just mentioned… vibrators. He had never used a vibrator on himself before, Kai had used one on him however, and he loved it.

   "Um Baekhyun, I already have a vibrator.“ He said shyly.

   "And I tried it out,” Baekhyun stated, “And it sucked dick. Like it’s high power is my vibrator’s warm up mode. That’s why we are getting this baby.” He then proceeded to hold up a box that looked pretty long and had the words “Prostate Massager” on it. Now he had never used this before. He hadn’t even known this exist. But from the title on the box he could tell pretty well that it would be used to really get his back arcing. At least that was what his lover’s cock did to him.

   Getting everything that was in the basket, the both headed toewards the checkout station where a young man with the nametag Jongdae was standing at the back of the station and checking out the rather distaseful items.  

   "Got a special night ahead of you?“ He asked Baekhyun curiously.

   "Nah,” Baekhyun answered, “It’s for my innocent little friend here.” Kyungsoo blushed at that statement making the other two laugh out loud.

   "So that will be (insert price AN: Idk how much this would cost and I don’t want to over or undershoot)“ The clerk said gleefully. Kyungsoo was about to fish for his wallet when Baekhyun stoppped him and gave the clerk his credit card.

   "No need for you to pay Kyungsoo, I want you to spend that on groceries for a beautiful, romantic, delicous dinner with your hot boyfriend before sex!” He was always right about his delicous cooking. Agreeing reluctantly, he put back his wallet before grabbing his bags and then greeting the clerk goodbye. 

   Getting back into the car quickly, Baekhyun turned on the car and air conditioner and then headed towards the beauty parlor to Kyungsoo’s suprise. His eyes widened more than they already were.

   Seeing the very confused look on the youngers face, he just stated, “If you want to be completely compared for your man, your getting a groom and a FULL body wax.”

   "What do you mean by full body?“ He asked frightfully.

   "Everything…” Baekhyun said with a wag in his eyebrows. Kyungsoo just looked at him with the most ferfull expression ever.

   After the 2 hours of grooming his hair, skin treatments, and the full body (like EVERYWHERE) wax, he looked ready to be fucked up, and oh was he ready.

   Getting back into the car, Baekhyun then told him, “ So the plan is you will cook dinner for him, get him into the shower, then in your lingerie, use all of your little toys on yourself, and once he walks in on you, act very innocent about it and say something along the lines of ‘Daddy hasn’t been playing with me at all so i had to play with myself.’ and then have him fuck you into oblivion. It’s quite simple if you think about it.” he then nodded his head sceptically then just waited to get home.

   Back at the house, the boy was making some dinner when Jongin entered into their shared apartment. He was sweating pinballs and his skin was so supple. Kyungsoo was really hard in his lace panties he was wearing underneath his clothes. He tensed up right at that very moment. Jongin turned to him and smiled making Kyungsoo almost feel bad about having Kai ravage him until he can’t walk.

   "Hey babe, how was your day today?“ asked Kai.                 

   "It was great…daddy” He was muttering that under his breath just to make the other think that’ what he really said, but not really think that that’s what the smaller said.

   It indeed made Jongin semi-hard thinking about it sayin “What did you say baby?” He hoped he didn’t hear what he just say what he did. He also kinda hoped he did.

   "I just said baby, nothing else really.“ It kinda made Jongin kinda dissapointed but also was relieved, as he had a class early in the morning to teach. He sat down to eat the delicous spread that Kyngsoo set up of steamed dumplings and black bean noodles. 

   "What’s the occassion?” Askd Jongin as he happilt slurped up the noodles.

   "Nothing I just wanted to cook a bit for leftovers tommorrow, that’s all.“ I just wanted to seem very ceremonial today for the long night of you fucking me, that’s all  he said in his head. After eating for about 10 minutes, about half was the food was gone (Kyungsoo probably only ate 20% of that half) and Jong in went in to take a shower. Kyungsoo quickly wrapped up the food and then threw off his clothes to get into his other "clothes”. After wrapping the chastity belt around him and putting the key into a drawer, he slipped on the flimsy panty and bra combo, he got onto the bed, he shoved the dildo in his mouth, slipped off the panties, and turned on the vibrator. He was nervous as he hadn’t done this in a while. After the first few seconds, he knew that this vibratpr was so much better then his other one. With one hand shoving the vibrator up his ass, his other hand was pumping the dildo back into his mouth with the cool glass grazing the back of his throat. Good thing that he controlled his his gag reflex a long time ago.

   Jongin was walking in the room with a towel was covering his head to dry off his hair even more. “Hey baby, do you wanna watch am, WOAH!!!” In his view, he saw a slutty Kyungsoo pleasuring himself… without him. 

   Sliding the dildo out of his mouth Kyungsoo said, “Daddy please punish. I’ve been a bad boy." This made him irresistable to his now horny and hard lover. With a drakness in his eyes he punced Kyungsoo on the bead, making the latter screech.

   He never has had him being all daddy with Jongin kissing all over his neck and chest, he knew that he had hooked his busy bofriend to sucumbing to his needs.

   "Your in for a rough night baby.” Jongin roughly said giving him a light spank making him whine.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Well that’s the first part. I’ve never done this before so please support me on this new journey I’m taking (I sound like I’m changing my religion wtf) so wait for the 2nd part and hopefully it will have some decent punishment smut :))))))). 

[emedhelp]

An Army First: Two sisters become generals

An Army first: Two sisters attain general's rank

Tom Vanden Brook USA TODAY

Published 1:04 PM EDT Sep 5, 2019

WASHINGTON – Their brother Rus Lodi calls them “leadership junkies.”

If you’re a soldier, you’d better just call them ma’am and salute. 

Maj. Gen. Maria Barrett and younger sister Brig. Gen. Paula Lodi are each accomplished in their own fields. But together they have become the first two sisters, the Army believes, to attain the general’s rank in the service's 244-year history.

"Maj. Gen. Maria Barrett and Brig. Gen. Paula Lodi represent the best America has to offer," said Acting Army Secretary Ryan McCarthy. "However, this comes as no surprise to those who have known them and loved them throughout this extraordinary journey. This is a proud moment for their families and for the Army."

Maj. Gen. Maria Barrett and her sister, Brig. Gen. Paula Lodi pose for a family photo after, then Col. Lodi's outgoing Change of Command for the 44th Medical Brigade, Fort Bragg, N.C. in July 2018.

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Fathers and sons have risen to general, including Gen. George Casey, who retired as Chief of Staff of the Army; his father, Maj. Gen. George Casey, Sr., was killed in action in Vietnam. Then there’s the Brooks family. Leo Brooks retired as a brigadier general, and his sons Leo, Jr., and Vincent, went on to become a one- and a four-star general respectively. There is even a wife-and-husband team of three-stars: Laura and James Richardson.

Sisters would have to wait.

The military didn't officially accept women into its ranks until the Army Nursing Corps was established in 1901. Women, of course, served unofficially before that, some in disguise since the Revolutionary War, according to the U.S. Army Women's Museum.

The Pentagon and Congress had limited the role of women in combat until opening all fields in 2015.

Since then, more than a dozen women have graduated from the Army's Ranger School, its proving ground for elite infantry soldiers. Command of combat units is key to ascending to the highest ranks in the military.

Overall, women make up more than 16% of the military's active-duty force of 1.3 million. Women account for 69 of the 417 generals and admirals.

The sisters' achievement is a remarkable milestone for women in the military, said Melissa Dalton, a senior fellow at the Center for Strategic and International Studies and a former Defense Department official. She put it in the class of retired Army Gen. Ann Dunwoody, the first woman in any service to attain four stars.

"For both men and women increasingly normalizing women in leadership positions matters," Dalton said. "The fact that it comes from same family is an incredible accomplishment." 

A Silver Star role model at home

Barrett and Lodi didn't need to look far for role models. Their father, Ruston, an Italian immigrant, was a World War II veteran and recipient of the Silver Star, although he rarely spoke about his service, his children said. Just as important, Rus Lodi and Barrett said, their father and mother Clara were educators who stressed public service to their five children.

Maj. Gen. Maria Barrett and her mother, Clara Lodi, pin 2d Lt. rank on Paula Lodi during a commissioning ceremony at Rutgers University, 1990. A mother's wish finally come true as the fifth of five children is fully in control of her destiny. [Via MerlinFTP Drop]

U.S. Army

"Both of my parents were school teachers," Barrett said. "When my mother started having children, she got out, but she continued to be active in the community. So I do think probably underlying everything is that service component to it."

Rus recalls his kid sisters as the focus of family dinners decades ago in Franklin, Massachusetts, each topping the other's exploits in sports or school. 

“They were two just beautiful girls growing up," said Rus, 63. "Maria would do something academically that just blew us away, while Paula was doing something athletically, flipping off a diving board, before anybody else. They have just been a great source of pride and admiration our entire life."

The sisters shared a bedroom, if not the same interests, growing up. "She was a great athlete," Barrett said. "I was probably more of a student."

Barrett, 53, recalls a key reason for joining the Army was largely practical: paying for school. She was interested in joining the foreign service. So, she enrolled in the Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) at Tufts University and was commissioned a second lieutenant in 1988.

Another military branch?: Trump moves closer to launching Space Force

Maj. Gen. Maria Barrett, then Cadet Barrett, receives guidance from an instructor at the M16 range, during training, Fort Devens, Mass. sometime in the late 1980's.

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A funny thing happened on her way to a career at the State Department. Barrett found the Army a better fit. She had a great battalion commander, found the signal corps and discovered her passion for leading soldiers. Barrett moved steadily up the ranks, commanding at the company, battalion and brigade level. As a two-star general, she commands NETCOM, placing her in charge of managing and defending the Army's information networks.

"When I talk to younger officers, I tell them the reason I joined is not the reason why I stayed," Barrett said. "Our democratic experiment, even on its most imperfect day, is worth defending."

'Always on Duty' (affectionately called by the family) is a photo of Army Maj. Gen. Maria Barrett and her Sister, Army Brig. Gen. Paula Lodi, checking their Smartphones the night before the Army Navy football game in Baltimore after Lodi and family drove up from Fort Bragg, N.C. in the fall of 2016. Interesting fact is the Army Navy game was one of the few times played in Baltimore and Army defeated Navy in the final six minutes with a touchdown, ending Navy's 14-year win streak.

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Paula Lodi remembers watching a documentary on the first women at West Point. That sealed it. She was 8, maybe 10 years old, and she announced to her father that she wanted to attend the school. He encouraged her.

"If you're a little girl, and your father responds positively to something that you want to do with your life," Paula Lodi said, "you tend to grab ahold of it."

Instead of West Point, she graduated from the Rutgers University ROTC program. 

"My dad passed away when I was a senior in high school, so I may not have been on the most solid footing after high school," Lodi said. "And I knew the army was the end state. So I would say going through ROTC, staying focused on that end state was really what kind of pulled me through college."

She received her commission in the medical services corps and planned to be a dietitian as a civilian. Ten years and out of the service. That was the plan. 

"I don't know at what point probably four, maybe five years in, it just occurred to me, I absolutely loved what I was doing in the medical service corps," Lodi said. 

Climbing the ranks in separate fields

Up the ranks she climbed, like her sister, but in a separate field, the medical service corps. She has risen to become deputy chief of staff for operations in the Army's Surgeon General's office.

"The fact that we're sisters, not brothers, I think it's a huge illustration of how far we've come as a service," said Lodi, 51. 

Gen. James McConville, the Army's chief of staff and top officer, has taken note of the sisters' success.

“Maj. Gen. Maria Barrett and Brig. Gen. Paula Lodi are exceptional, proven leaders who’ve distinguished themselves over the course of their careers at various levels of command and during multiple combat tours," McConville said. "These officers serve in critical career fields and lead organizations essential to the Army mission. Their success showcases how talented people can find multiple pathways to success serving in the Army.”

Neither sister said they started out with the goal to be general officers, and both express pride in the other's accomplishments.

Barrett, then Cadet Barrett, rappels with other MIT Army ROTC cadet colleagues somewhere in Western Mass. sometime in the late 1980's.

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"I don't think either one of us told us back in high school when we were both playing soccer together, that this is where we would be 27, 30 years from now," Barrett said. "I don't think either one of us would have told you that this is how the story would end."

Their brother said he isn't surprised. Over the years, he said, he's noticed the way his younger sisters were "always talking about leadership, right way of leading, right way of motivation."

Those were the very lessons their parents stressed, he said. He called Paula's promotion to general the "closing chapter on a job well done by my parents."

Published 1:04 PM EDT Sep 5, 2019

[endlessly-elizabeth]

Body image. A topic that I find, like many of you, difficult to talk about sometimes. Let me start by saying this: my body is nowhere near “perfect” and it never will be. What is perfection anyways? Being slender? Being curvy? Slim thicc? Everyone is attracted to different traits, body types, hair colors, etc. It’s all about preference. I’ve battled with myself for far too long about body image and it’s taken me years to try to be body positive. I’m still not happy with where I am, but I’m amazed with how far I’ve come.

I’ve never been “skinny.” I was a chubby baby and it didn’t stop there. My brother called me fat on a daily basis when I was growing up. My grandpa told me if I kept eating as much as I was, I was going to look like my mother one day. My grandmother told my mom I had large thighs. One of my childhood friends told me I had cellulite (well, we didn’t know what cellulite was back then. She referred to it as “dimples”). Classmates made snide comments about my weight and/or my appearance during the years that I craved acceptance the most. Once all of these flaws were brought to my attention, it was hard for me to ignore them.

In some ways, I had a normal childhood like everyone else. I grew up in a nice neighborhood, I always had kids my own age to play with, and I did well in school. I didn’t have many hobbies outside of having play dates, spending time outside, and writing in a diary before I went to bed at night...but I still felt happy and fulfilled. My parents stayed married and kept any kind of problems they may have had private. I had a brother I could always play video games or watch tv with. I had a great group of friends. Life truly was as easy and loving as it could have been for me. Until my brother got sick.

I don’t want to draw too much attention to it or get to personal with these stories, because I don’t want people to look at me any differently. But my brother used to hit me...a lot. And over the smallest things. He seemed very much unlike himself. His demeanor would change like the flip of a switch and he could go from being perfectly content to aggressively angry. Most of the time, he took his anger out on me. I was the closest person in proximity to him, so I was, unfortunately, an easy target. I’m also three years younger than him.

 I distinctly remember one of my friends coming over to the house when my parents weren’t home, and my brother was on the computer. We asked him if we could use it--I wanted to show her how to create a new AIM screen name (holy throwback!). He repeatedly told me no. I threatened to call our mom (wasn’t that how you got your siblings to do anything when you were kids?). He rose from the chair and started wailing on me until I fell to the ground. He hovered over me and continued to hit me, despite how much I was crying out in pain. My friend jumped on the couch and started yelling at him, saying she was going to call the police if he didn’t stop. We were both hysterical--my friend hysterical with fear, and I was hysterically in pain. I don’t remember anything after that, honestly. I probably tried to block in out from my memory.

He used to threaten me not to tell my parents. I listened to him because I didn’t want to be in pain again. I had tried telling my parents before...I don’t know if they were in denial, or if they just thought it was normal sibling behavior. Eventually, my parents started witnessing more of the pent up anger he had and took him to see a child counselor. He seemed to be handling his anger better but things took a turn for the worse. His health seemed to be declining. My parents had to keep an extra set of clothes at school for him because he had suddenly lost his ability to tell when he had to go to the bathroom. He was late to school one day and when my dad and I went to drop him off, we watched him hook his arm through one of the straps, and when he went to do the second one, he just completely fell over. We went to our doctor and she was watching him walk in a straight line. “Pick up your foot!” I had said to him. There was one foot that seemed to be dragging behind the other. 

I don’t remember all of the details, but it turned out that he did have a serious medical problem. He had a cyst that hung off of his spinal cord that was affecting his balance, and he had a brain tumor. The next year or two were hard. He had to have emergency surgery that left me to be shuffled between different friends and family’s houses. I had to have out-of-state family members stay with me so he could see specialists in New York. He was in the hospital and a rehabilitation center for a long time, and eventually had to move in with my grandpa because his spinal surgery caused him to have to relearn how to walk again. Our grandpa’s house was a rancher-style and the only steps were to get into the basement.

You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. During the years that this was happening, my brother and I were both at ages where our brains were actively growing. It was the time when our perception of who we were as people began to form. I felt abandoned at that time--by my family for leaving me behind and keeping me out of the loop. I felt like they cared more about him than they did me, (Of course, I realize now that the problems were bigger than me--they almost lost him and needed to tend to him. Putting me with friends and other family members was the best avenue they could’ve taken, without having to pull me from school.) My life seemed chaotic. I was being teased by classmates about his medical problems and how I probably had them, too.

Everything seemed to normalize once my brother moved back home, but he was never the same. The loving relationship we had before his medical problems began to surface had completely disintegrated. He was bitter that I had a normal life and wasn’t plagued by the same hardships he faced. It created a resentment that was almost palpable. He still let anger consume him and he’d make me his punching bag. While it wasn’t necessarily physical anymore, he still made an effort to hurt me with his words. He made me feel worthless by calling me fat and ugly.

I carried the weight of my childhood and turned to eating as a source of comfort. Food was something that I could always rely on. So, when my brother or my classmates made me feel bad, I ate. And ate. And probably ate some more. This certainly didn’t help me with my self-esteem or my body image. I was definitely chubby, but I wouldn’t say I was ever “fat.” I think the most I ever weighed was 170, which is embarrassing to admit now. But guys didn’t like me. They thought I was nerdy and couldn’t be bothered to get to know me because of my appearance. Looking back, I think I attribute my relationship with my brother to my fear of men. I was uncomfortable being around them one on one to the point where I’d get physically sick. I guess that explains my nonexistent dating life in high school and college...Here’s a super personal fact about me: I was so afraid of guys and the idea of being physically intimate with someone, I didn’t kiss anyone until I was twenty-one. Yes, you heard that correctly. Thank goodness for that one guy I allowed myself to take a chance on and who was super patient with me.

Those years were hard. Both emotionally and mentally draining. Once I graduated college, I made an active effort to eat better and to shed some of that weight. I wanted to grow into a confident, happy version of myself who wasn’t afraid of male attention. I wanted to like what I saw in the mirror. Being out of school absolutely helped me make better food choices--I wasn’t constantly surrounded by french fries, burgers, milkshakes, etc. I started feeling mentally healthier once I became more physically active. Now, mind you, my weight still fluctuates to this day. But I am proud to say that I am thirty pounds lighter than I was at my heaviest, and I’ve grown to be more body positive. I don’t shy away from clothing that hugs my body anymore. I used to be petrified to wear shorts in public because I have cellulite on my legs, but I started showing more of my body off two years ago and I’ve realized that I am my own worst critic. I know that the cellulite is there, so I assume that everyone else is staring at it as heavily as I was, but they’re not. Can they see the little dimples on my legs when I wear shorts or dresses? Sure. Is it the most appealing thing to look at? No. But, I’m fucking human. I have cellulite, who the fuck cares?

I used to let it RUN my life. I would only go “so far” with a guy because I didn’t want him to see me entirely naked. I was afraid that if a guy saw that I had cellulite on my legs (and butt, let’s be honest), that it would somehow make me less attractive or less lovable in his eyes. I constantly told myself I wasn’t good enough for someone who was very physically fit because I’m not toned and have those little dimples. I criticized myself to the point where I felt ugly. I still have that cellulite. My legs still jiggle every time I walk, but you know what? I don’t care as much. I truly believe that I suffered from that ugly duckling syndrome. I finally became the swan when I began taking care of myself. I’m on my feet for at least five hours a day at my job. I was exercising multiple times a week before my back started hurting, so that is something that I slowly want to bring back into my routine. I gave up Dunkin Donuts, bread, and pizza for lent, and I feel so much better. I haven’t quite seen the weight loss that I’ve been looking for, but I feel more energized. I enjoy making healthier food choices. I enjoy curling my hair, wearing makeup, and wearing a dress that shows off my very imperfect body. I’m tired of trying to attain perfection or feeling bad about myself when I scroll through my social media apps and realize that my body is painfully average. I’m still a damn queen, even with a couple extra dimples. It’s about time I start acting like it! 

[salmenzo]

Weekly Update - Monday, September 30, 2019

Strengthen - Support - Succeed

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius

and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”

Marilyn Monroe

Good Morning,

Another incredible weather weekend! Personally, I do not remember such a wonderful September. If this could carry us through December, I would be one of the happiest superintendents in the country. We can only hope. 

Annual Report

On Friday, we shared with you the Annual Report for 2018-2019. As I stated in my communication, we have a lot for which to be proud. We are seeing great outcomes for our students who graduate from our district. The graduation rates continue to rise and students are leaving with plans for the future. 

However, we do always have room for growth. While our students are showing greater personal growth on the Smarter Balanced Assessment, the overall performance scores could be better. I would even dare to say should be better. Administration has spent significant time this summer and early fall reviewing individual classroom data and will incorporate that into school improvement plans and goal setting. We are excited about the potential we know we have in our students, that coupled with high impact teaching strategies, will increase overall student outcomes. 

Students in Wallingford met an average of 58.50 percent of their growth targets in English, up from 44 percent in 2015-16, and 56.40 percent of their growth target in math, up from 38 percent in 2015-2016.

The great news is that the growth score increases indicate we have a strong viable curriculum, that if implemented with fidelity, will continue to allow all students to demonstrate higher rates of success. 

Chief Performance Officer for the State Department of Education, Ajit Gopalakrishnan,  stated the following in the September 9, 2019 Record Journal article. 

”Growth looks at the growth of students across the spectrum,” Gopalakrishnan said. “It’s a good measure of how effective a curriculum is. Even a kid who is proficient needs growth.” 

Again, this is all good news. Now with the support of administrators and instructional coaches, I know we can continue to make gains for all students. We have incredibly committed staff. There is no doubt in my mind we will continue to show growth in all indicators as we maintain focus and offer support this year. Thank you for stepping up to this challenge!

Strengthen - Support - Succeed 

STEM Town Updates

Tomorrow night is the Community STEM night. The event is open to all students and families. It will be held at the Wallingford Parks and Recreation Department from 6:00 - 7:30 pm. Students and families can engage in STEM challenges coordinated by members from the STEM Town Steering Committee. I would like to thank Chris Stone for all of his help in coordinating this very exciting event!

We will also be hosting a tent at Celebrate Wallingford this coming Saturday. The Curriculum Department will be out in full force with other volunteers from the STEM Steering Committee. I will be there and then will head over to Hobson & Motzer, which operates manufacturing plants in Durham and Wallingford, and will be hosting an open house at their Durham plant (30 Airline Rd., Durham, CT 06422) on Saturday, October 5th from 1:00 – 4:00 pm. Students, parents/guardians, faculty, and administrators are all welcome. This event is by invitation to local high schools and three technical colleges. If you know any high school students who may be thinking about a career in engineering or manufacturing, this would be a great event to share them. 

As part of our National Manufacturing Month activities, our College and Career Specialists have arranged a day-long field trip Friday for students interested in very local manufacturing companies. On the tours, they will meet staff from these companies and learn more about the work of each. I want to thank Jane Greaves and Kim McLaughlin for continuing to expand their efforts to prepare out students for the world after high school. These activities are key in strengthening and supporting our students so they are successful. This is the Wallingford 100 in action - 100% Community with 100% Student Engagement leading to 100% Student Success!

Make it a great week!

Sal

Dr. Salvatore F. Menzo

Superintendent

Email - smenzo@wallingfordschools.org

Twitter - @SalMenzo

Wallingford Public School District

 Wallingford Public School System Mission

To inspire through innovative and engaging experiences that lead all learners to pursue and discover their personal best.

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[thebuckblogimo]

The ever-changing face of America and what I make of it after all these years.

July 21, 2019

As a proud member of the gerontocracy, I’ve seen the world evolve in ways I never imagined as a child. Take, for example, the not-so-simple matter of race relations and attitudes toward skin color.

When I started school at St. Alphonsus in 1953, every kid was white. But not really white. My first big box of Crayolas included a color called “Flesh.” I remember staring at it, thinking that it did not look like the color of the skin of anyone I knew. And certainly not like that of the “colored people” (as African-Americans were known in the early ‘50s) in the Detroit neighborhood where my grandparents lived.

Crayola didn’t even try to make a crayon for them.

As I got a little older and started playing youth baseball, my team, the Bullets, occasionally played a team from the south end of Dearborn that everyone called “the Syrians.” They were a bunch of Arabic kids whose parents or grandparents actually came from Lebanon, and I recall thinking that they looked white but that most of them had better tans than the kids on my team.

By the time I was in high school during the early to mid ‘60s, the civil rights movement, led by Martin Luther King Jr., was ascending in national attention. I didn’t watch much nightly news in those days, but I was aware that Walter Cronkite of CBS, and “Huntley-Brinkley” of NBC, covered it every evening on TV.  At that point in my life I remember often hearing the words “prejudice,” “discrimination,” “segregation” and “integration,” but I don’t recall ever hearing the word “diversity.”

Actually, in my mostly blue collar neighborhood, there may have been more discussion about “nationality” than skin color during those years. The grandparents of most of my friends had all immigrated to America from somewhere else--Italy, Poland, Germany, Ireland, Scotland and Belgium. Canada, too, although we never thought of Canadians as immigrants. In any case, Dearborn was “all white.” Period. And mayor Orville Hubbard neither said nor did much to refute his separatist reputation.

When I went off to college, one of my biggest surprises was the racial--and geographic--composition of the Michigan State football team. The mid 1960s were the glory years of Spartan football and most of the best players were black and from the South. Such as All-American defensive end Bubba Smith (Beaumont, Texas); All-American wide receiver Gene Washington (LaPorte, Texas); All-American roverback George Webster (Anderson, South Carolina); and Jimmy Raye (Fayetteville, North Carolina) who became the first black quarterback from the South to win a national title. Those great ‘65 and ‘66 teams also included two Hawaiians, placekicker Dick Kenny and All-American fullback Bob Apisa who was born in American Samoa.

If you search for a photo of the 1965 Alabama football team, which shared the national championship with MSU that season, you will find that it does not include a single black face. And if you Google photos of the 1966 Notre Dame team, which shared the next year’s national title with the Spartans, it reveals just one black player--that of All-American defensive tackle Alan Page.

In my estimation, head coach Duffy Daugherty has never received sufficient credit for all the things he did to integrate college football.

By the end of my second year on campus, the civil rights movement, student protests against the war in Vietnam, worries over being drafted into the military, the emerging sexual revolution, drug use and all the cultural changes associated with the ‘60s--in music, literature, hair styles, clothing, etc.--made “crazy” feel routine.

And then on Sunday, July 23, 1967, things got even crazier.

I recall sitting with some pals at “the Canteen” at Camp Dearborn, eating a black cherry ice cream cone in the late afternoon sun, when a St. Al’s girl I had known since first grade walked up to our table and said, “Have you heard about the riot going on in Detroit?”

Riot? Detroit? What? Huh?

The next evening I drove down Warren Avenue into the city with my Dad, and I remember seeing independent business owners sitting on the steps of their stores, with rifles locked and loaded, prepared to defend their properties. The following day at the Detroit paint factory where I worked that summer, I took the staircase to the rooftop of Building 42, looked out toward the Detroit River and could see hundreds of fires dotting the cityscape. Detroit was put under curfew for four days; the National Guard, as well as two divisions of the U.S. Army, were called in to quell the disturbance; and in the end, 43 people died, over 7,000 arrests were made and 2,000 buildings were destroyed. The riot was triggered by an early-hours bust of a blind pig, but black frustration with racial inequities was at the root of it all.

Detroit has never been the same since.

I graduated from college in December of 1969, and about two months later drove across the country with my buddy Joe on an adventure to the West Coast. I was soon able to find a job as a janitor at the uber-exclusive Pacific Union (Men’s) Club at the top of Nob Hill in San Francisco. It was my first introduction to people with “yellow skin.”

I was part of a work crew that consisted of a Filipino, a Korean, a Chinese man and three white guys. The three Asians had all come to America in hopes of saving enough money to bring their families to the U.S. All three struggled with English, and I helped my Korean buddy learn the language by reading aloud the comics section of the Sunday paper, while pointing at the illustrations.

Because of the language barrier and my short time on the job, I gained few good insights into those guys and their respective cultures, other than to say I knew them as great workers.

After a couple of months, Joe and I moved on to Los Angeles, but I was feeling like a bit of loser, homesick and hungry. He found a gig as a carpenter; I soon caught a ride back home with some pals who were visiting the coast. In December of 1970 I finally landed my first big boy job as a copywriter for the Automobile Club of Michigan (AAA) at its headquarters in downtown Detroit.

It was the fulfillment of my boyhood dreams. I was writing every day about insurance, travel and auto financing services. I was being taken to lunch several times a week by art studios or the ad agency that created AAA’s radio and TV advertising. And I finally had a couple of bucks in my pocket.

But something was percolating below the surface at work. Word leaked out that the Auto Club would be moving its headquarters from downtown Detroit to Dearborn. And, suddenly, there was a concurrent realization that there was not a single black person or woman who was a department manager at the downtown headquarters or at any of the 56 Michigan AAA branch offices at that time.

Although it still felt like the ‘60s, instead of revolting, disgruntled black employees and a female employee filed separate discriminatory lawsuits against the Auto Club. The suits dragged on for years in the courts, but by the time I left the company in 1979 there were numerous blacks and many women in prominent positions at AAA throughout the state.

Meanwhile, during the early-to-mid ‘70s, the Motor City came to be known as the Murder City. Also, federally imposed school busing accelerated the flight of white people from Detroit. Nevertheless, in December of 1977, I bought my first home in an integrated Detroit neighborhood called North Rosedale Park. Thanks to an active civic association, involved block clubs, a community house for hosting neighborhood events, etc., North Rosedale worked.

However, to the south, the neighborhoods branching out from nearby Evergreen Road, and the ones north of West McNichols, had become virtually all black. I was inside a few homes in those neighborhoods only a handful of times, visiting or partying with black colleagues from work. However, I slow-cruised the streets of Northwest Detroit many times in my car, an admittedly imperfect way to try to understand what it was like to live there. I observed people who were obviously middle class, but I observed many more who appeared to be “underclass.”

For a time I was a member of a North Rosedale Park committee to help prevent neighborhood crime and was privy to a police department map with pinpoints that plotted major crimes in the 16th precinct. Car thefts. B&Es. Shootings. Murders. I could clearly see the extent of the problem throughout the precinct. Like everyone else I read about the crime throughout the city in the daily newspapers. I watched the coverage of it on TV. And I could “feel it” when I drove through the neighborhoods in my car.

I got married in 1979. And by the end of the ‘80s Debbie and I had four small children. It was time to make a big decision. Stay in Detroit and send our kids to Detroit schools, which had become dysfunctional? Drive our kids many miles to private schools in the suburbs? Or move?

In 1989, Ross Roy, the long-time downtown Detroit ad agency that I was then working for, relocated to Bloomfield Hills. And we moved even farther north to Clarkston where the public schools had an excellent reputation.

Once again I was living in a virtually all white community.

We lived in Clarkston for 20 years. As I attended local high school football and basketball games over that time, I began to notice an increasing number of black players on the mostly suburban teams in Clarkston’s league. And I recalled that when we moved out of Detroit, it wasn’t just white families that were leaving the city, many middle class black families left for the suburbs, too.

My children rarely met kids with black, brown or yellow skin in Clarkston. In fact, they rarely met kids with the kinds of last names--ending in “i” or “o” or “ski” or “wicz”--that I took for granted while growing up. But they met many such people in college and continue to do so in their respective careers. And I’m proud that they tend not to be judgmental of people with different skin colors.

After we lost our home due to an electrical fire in 2010, Debbie and I embarked on a new adventure that took us to Grand Haven in West Michigan. Heavy Dutch influence. Politically conservative. Predominantly white. During my first summer here, someone I met at a party referred to Detroit as “Detoilet.” Also, at estate sales and neighborhood functions, I was often asked whether I go to church--something I was not used to on the other side of the state. It’s a whole different vibe in West Michigan, to be sure.

We’re now into our eighth summer in Grand Haven, and even here you can see the changing face of America. There’s a family down the street whose daughter is marrying an African-American man this month. There’s a woman I know at the gym whose son married an African-American woman last month. And one day recently, a neighbor from the next street over stopped to talk while pushing a stroller and introduced me to his son’s twin boys. With their darkish skin color, dark hair and eyes, I assumed that they had an Indian or perhaps Pakistani   mother.

Such things were unheard of when I first visited Grand Haven in the early ‘70s.

I was inspired to write about what I’ve observed concerning the ever-changing face of America after shopping one evening at Westborn Market during a visit to Dearborn earlier this summer. When I walked into the store I felt as though I had entered into some sort of international marketplace. White people. Black people. Arabic people. Asian people. Indian people. The place was packed with people of color of all types. It was certainly not the “cake eaters’” market of my youth.

WHERE I COME OUT. I’ve been thinking about attitudes toward skin color since early childhood, when I first realized that there were black people who could speak Polish living on my grandparents’ block. As I look back on the past seven decades, here are five observations and my opinions about them:

Birds of a feather flock together. My grandparents lived in Polish enclaves. The Arab families I knew as a kid clustered in an area of Dearborn called “Salina.” In college, the black kids usually sat together in the grill and cafeteria. And rich people tend to reside in the same zip code. It’s a natural human tendency for people who share a common culture to congregate with their own kind. I get that. Yet I’ve always felt that if Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal desire to build their home next to Mr. and Mrs. Robin, they have every right to do so.

I was in perhaps the sixth grade when I first heard about school “busing” to achieve racial integration. Brilliant idea, thought my 12-year-old mind. But as a young man I reversed my position as I came to understand the vital importance of “neighborhood schools.” When moms and dads, no matter their color, give a serious damn about their kids’ education, they prefer to live close to their children’s schools, facilitating the parental involvement--school open houses; child progress meetings; attendance at plays, concerts and sporting events--that is so important to the successful education of their kids. Also, there were many times I ran into our children’s teachers at the bakery or Damman Hardware in Clarkston--everyday community encounters that enhanced a “connection” with their teachers. The chance of that happening with cross-district busing is far less likely. I would argue that whatever slim chance Detroit had to remain a viable major American city after the riots of ‘67 was killed by forced busing in the early-to-mid ‘70s. It caused the last of Detroit’s white middle class to say, “That’s it...we’re out of here.” Many black middle class families said the same. So, ultimately, the city was left to a population that was mostly poor and black. (Interestingly, Coleman Young, Detroit’s first black mayor, was an opponent of busing.)

No matter race, ethnicity, age or income level, most people make little effort to learn anything about the attitudes, interests or culture of the “other guy.” I’m far from being a hundred percent at it, but when I have done so the results have often been astounding. Such as the time I walked into a large Arabic market on Warren Avenue in East Dearborn a few years ago in search of the secret to making authentic Middle Eastern shawarma. When I showed sincere interest to doing so, I was escorted around the store and introduced to four or five different employees who filled my head with knowledge about Arabic spices and marinating techniques. I was the only “white person” in the store that day, but when I walked out the door I got high fives, slaps on the back, wishes of good luck--and big smiles--from every employee I encountered. I’ve had many similar experiences with black people when I’ve shown interest in their music, food, personal histories, etc. It’s amazing what you get back when you attempt to find out what the other guy is really all about. I would also add that being curious about or empathetic with “the other” should be a two-way street. If everyone--white, black, Hispanic, yellow, Arabic, native American, etc.--made small, incremental efforts to knock down the invisible barriers between us, it would be so much easier to coexist on this rapidly shrinking planet.

Diversity is infinitely more interesting than homogeneity. I could cite hundreds of personal experiences that cause me to feel this way. From listening to folk songs while sitting in a circle of Scotch people to eating kimchi with Korean folks in San Francisco. From drinking cherry-juice- infused spirytus with relatives in Poland to attempting to harmonize around the piano in a black family’s home in Toledo. From torching my tastebuds with sauteed jalapeno peppers in an authentic Mexican market in Pontiac to the youthful insights of the black North Carolina teenager who spends a part of every summer in the home across the street from us in Grand Haven. Diversity broadens horizons. Changes perspectives. Expands one’s view of the world. No matter where or with whom one ordinarily flocks, it’s highly beneficial, sez I, to get out and fly with birds of a different color.

We could really use a modern-day Henry Ford, someone with a not-yet-conceived, revolutionary new product--or process--that employs large numbers of ordinary workers and pays them a living wage to build it. That’s what Henry did when he introduced assembly line production to build the Model T and doubled the wage of his workers to $5 a day, putting them on the road to the middle class. Or maybe we need a modern-day Work Projects Administration (WPA) that employs unskilled people--and pays them enough to afford a dignified middle class life--to rebuild our roads, bridges, water lines, public transit systems, the entire U.S. infrastructure. Because I now think that racially segregated poverty persists more due to economic inequality than any other factor. There are available jobs galore in the fast food industry, tourism, hospitality, health care and more. But they’re jobs that don’t pay enough to secure a middle class life. And it is now generally accepted that the single greatest predictor of a student’s achievement and eventual economic success is household income. I used to think that education was the key to lifting up the poverty stricken-- whether black, brown, white, whatever--into the middle class. But while the American population is more educated than ever before, the canyon between rich and poor has only widened over the last 40 years.

Like everyone else, I have opinions. These have been mine about racial issues. I’ve never lived in a ghetto. I haven’t had much interplay with Hispanics. I’ve never been poor. And I claim no special expertise in matters regarding attitudes toward skin color. I’m just one guy who has been watching, thinking about these things for a very long time. I probably won’t be around to see America become a majority-minority country. I only hope that when it inevitably happens that all people of all skin colors will do a better job of negotiating those invisible barriers on that two-way street I spoke of earlier.