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motownfiction · 2 years ago

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not a lot to give

Sam wishes his mother would leave three things alone: the Coke cans in his corner of the basement, the loose thread on her old favorite winter coat, and this idea that Sam isn’t living up to his full potential.

She says it to him all the time. When he brings home a C on a paper he should have gotten an A on, but he turned it in two weeks late. When he falls asleep during the mock-up psychology class at the Wayne State open house. When he skips SAT prep to wait in line for Billy Joel tickets. It’s always the same thing out of her.

You’re not living up to your full potential. With all your brains and talent, you’re not living up to your full potential.

It’s useless to argue with her now. Sam used to do it all the time. He’d stand his ground and snap, “And what am I supposed to be, Mom? A doctor? A lawyer? A suit-wearing CEO of a company that steals from people who think I’m making their lives better?” She’d always shake her head and say something like, “You could be more than a 7-Eleven cashier.”

Sam sighs thinking of the way the fight would go. It was always the same, practically the chorus to a bad pop song.

What’s wrong with 7-Eleven cashiers? They sure help you get those Sno Balls you think you’re hiding from us.

That’s exactly what I mean! You’re smart enough to figure out I buy Sno Balls at 7-Eleven, even though I’ve never told you!

I just have to look in the trash.

But not everybody thinks about how to look around! Sam, you have such a brilliant mind. Such a way of looking at the world. Are you really going to work at 7-Eleven for the rest of your life because it’s easier?

Sam would never answer the question. He’d just march down to his room, where he is right now. It’s been a little while since he and his mother fought like that. A month and two days, when Sam thinks about it. He’s pretty good at remembering the dates he wants to remember. Tonight, he’s lying on his bed, listening to “You’ll Lose a Good Thing” and staring at the ceiling because he overheard his mother on the phone with one of her distant friends, somebody from high school, back when she was star-of-the-show Maggie Brady, back before she fell in love with Mike Doyle, the coolest guy in the world (as far as Sam’s concerned). Maggie was talking like a Christmas card.

Mike and I are redoing the bathroom floor. Sadie’s getting straight A’s at Michigan, and she’s got the sweetest boyfriend. Charlie’s playing ‘O Holy Night’ at the Christmas pageant. Big centerpiece of the show. He’s got a beautiful girlfriend now, too. And Sam … you know, I was listening to him talk about some Star Wars movie with his friend the other day, and the things he notices … things nobody else would ever see. I just wish he knew there’s more he can do with his talents than just squander them.

His hands tremble when he remembers all those things she said. She means well. Mom always means well. But it’s like she can’t hear herself when she speaks (and worse, she can’t hear him). He closes his eyes and thinks back to the summer of ‘82, between ninth and tenth grade. In the middle of June, Lucy spent two weeks over in Ann Arbor, living in a dorm, writing and studying fiction with some hotshot English professors. Part of some summer program for high school geniuses. Almost impossible that any rising sophomore would get in. But she did. Lucy was always getting into things like that. When she came back to her friends two weeks later, she talked a lot about the criticism. The way people stared at her work and made every word feel like a question. She said there were times she thought about giving up. Times she was scared. Sadie said she couldn’t believe it. She didn’t think Lucy was afraid of anything. But Sam still remembers the look he gave her (and the look that she returned). To be talented is to be tortured.

So, he’s been trying to convince everybody – his parents, his siblings, and all of his friends – that whatever his potential is, it’s not a lot to give. It can’t be. He doesn’t want it.

His hands tremble in time with Barbara Lynn on the stereo.

(part of @nosebleedclub october challenge -- day xi!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: sam doyle #ch: maggie doyle #year: 1986 #once again i have gone overboard

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literaticat · 3 years ago

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On the topic of that agent who complained but after hours query mails (or any agents who do): as a global business, I am super suprised they don't expect this to happen often due to time zones!

The thing is - there are two people who complained and caused mini-viral twitter moments. One was a pill - the other one had a legit reason to complain, IMO, and I'll give some backstory.

So the one last week was a tweet quoting an agent who was griping about "authors need to send queries during work hours". Ridic, IMO, and that agent seemed to just be a crab. I answered this some posts back but REALLY -- I truly don't know any other agents who would complain about this -- like, he needs to join the 21st Century. Agents who are good at managing their email or who have dedicated query manager inboxes and such don't even KNOW when you send -- and we certainly don't CARE. Authors should NOT worry that we are sitting around being jerks about this, we are well aware of time zones and the fact that most authors have actual jobs and families and whatnot. I have gotten queries on Christmas Day or in the dead of night, or whenever, and I have no problem with that. I get to them when I get to them.

IT GOES BOTH WAYS, THOUGH: I assume that most AUTHORS realize that AGENTS are reading queries on off hours, on weekends, on holidays, right? Like, literally most agents do not have time to get deep on the query inbox during regular work hours. And so, we might send requests or REJECTIONS at any of those times. I have certainly had people complain online -- VERY vociferously -- because I sent a rejection over a holiday weekend. (So much so that I now stress about it... like "oh dang, does Arbor Day count as a holiday? Is somebody going to come at me because I rejected them during Purim? Ahhhh)

POINT BEING: Don't worry about the querying agents thing, IMO.

However, the one from a few months back was a very different complaint, that has nothing to do with authors. In that case, it was an EDITOR who was complaining that an AGENT sent a submission after hours on the Friday of a holiday weekend.

This is a legitimate complaint, for the record. Sorry, but yeah. Agents are professional email-senders. A huge part of our job is making sure that our clients have the best chance possible for success -- that means that, in my experience, we have scrupulous etiquette surrounding the submission process.

These submissions are NOT going to some query in-box to be dealt with in the order received - they are emails going straight to editors themselves without a buffer. Therefore, we want editors to know that we value their time - that we are NOT shotgunning submissions at random, but that we have specifically curated what we are sending them. If editors respect us and believe we are sending them great projects for a good reason, they will continue wanting to open our emails. If editors think we are rude schmucks who send things willy-nilly, they will not want to open our emails. You know?

Part of that respect for editors also includes respecting the fact that weekends, holidays, and the middle of the night are time off. It's one thing to send a response to a quick question or something like that over the weekend or at night - sure, we all check emails on our phones, and it's fine if you just fire off a response or non-urgent inquiry without regard to time because it can be looked at whenever -- it's also fine if something IS time-sensitive and really just needs to be answered ASAP because it's truly urgent -- but a SUBMISSION?

Sorry, but in my opinion, SUBMISSIONS are a big freakin deal and should be treated as such. It takes me several solid days of work (or if I don't have SOLID days to dedicate to it, then those hours spread over a couple of weeks) -- to hone a submission, make a sublist, craft the letter, strategize how and when to send, etc -- it's something on which I spend a great deal of time and care, and I would not throw that away by being sloppy about the email.

If I am prepping submissions after hours or on weekends, I schedule to send during work hours. If I am sending to the UK or another country, I absolutely try to send or schedule to send during THEIR work hours.

If I was an author and I found out my agent was shotgunning my query to random editors after hours on a holiday weekend with no regard to how that would be perceived, I would be PISSED. This is not how you treat important client work.

It later came out that not only this, but also the agent in question is an ACTUAL schmagent -- like the type of person who routinely does not follow best practices at all and is an actively bad apple. And this type of email is Classic Them, and actually part of what makes them a schmagent.

#schmagents #queryetiquette

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monotonous-minutia · 5 years ago

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Le Nozze di Figaro, Act IV, 40 lines

Belated. For @notyouraveragejulie. As always thank you for the wonderful prompts; this is so much fun :D Working on the other request too!

Le Nozze di Figaro, Act IV, 40 lines

Barbarina is in the garden looking around

Barbarina: Oh no I lost the pin that the Count gave me to give to Suzanna now I’m in trouble

Figaro and Marcellina come in

Figaro: What’s this about a pin and the Count and Suzanna??

Barbarina: I was supposed to give this pin back to Suzanna that the Count gave me. OOPS I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO TELL ANYONE

Figaro: Oh no worries my dear, I won’t say a word. *steals a pin from Marcellina who just happens to have one that looks exactly like Suzanna’s* Here’s your pin! Now run off and contribute to my betrayal I mean have a good day my dear. *Barbarina leaves* MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM SUZANNA’S CHEATING ON MEEEE

Marcellina: Don’t jump to conclusions.

Figaro: Nope she’s totally cheating on me I’m gonna get revenge for all husbands *he runs off*

Marcellina: Men! If only they could be more like goats when it comes to women and be nicer to their wives. Not sure exactly where that metaphor came from but it’ll do for now. I better go tell Suzanna what’s up. *she leaves*

Barbarina comes back into the garden with a basket of fruit

Barbarina: The Count is so stingy! I wish he would leave Cherubino alone already. That page is such a cutie. I can’t wait to find him and make out I mean give him this fruit. Oh no, someone’s coming. Better hide! *hides in an arbor*

Figaro enters with Bartolo and Basilio

Figaro: Gentlemen, wait here. When you hear me whistle, come find me. *he leaves*

Bartolo: Cool, now what are we supposed to do?

Basilio: Did I ever tell you about the story of when I got caught in the rain with a donkey’s skin?

Bartolo: That sounds extremely disturbing so I’m just going to leave even though Figaro told me to stay here. *leaves*

Basilio: No one ever wants to hear my aria. What’s the point of being a tenor in an opera buffa if I don’t even get a solo? *exit*

Figaro: *comes back* Ah, women are so untrustworthy. I shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place but then I guess the title of this thing wouldn’t make sense and anyway I love Suzanna but she’s such a traitor and so are all women and here I go again. Imma go hide now. *he hides*

Suzanna and the Countess enter disguised as each other

Suzanna: We’ll show those faithless husbands what’s up and by faithless I mean your cheating husband and my ridiculous one who apparently doesn’t trust me even though I literally just pledged my life to him although I suppose I could have just told him we were going to do this to put his mind at ease BUUUT then it wouldn’t be nearly as funny so NO REGRETS also I know Figaro is here hiding because he’s suspicious of me so I’m going to sing a song that he can hear OH MY DEAR LOVE HOW EXCITED I AM TO SEE YOU IN THIS BEAUTIFUL GARDEN Imma go hide now *she hides*

Cherubino skips in singing as if he hasn’t just been reprimanded a dozen times and almost got killed by an angry husband at least twice

Cherubino: LALALALALALALA *sees the Countess wearing Suzanna’s clothes* oooooooh look it’s Suzanna I’m going to be really inappropriate and ask for a kiss because I’m an imp everyone says I am so it may as well be true HI SWEETIE

Countess: GO AWAY

Cherubino: Don’t play coy with me! Oops here comes the Count better hide *goes into the arbor*

Count: That stupid page will be the death of me. Ah, Suzanna, there you are. Now let’s get this party started. You’re so lovely!

Countess: I know. Wait, I hear someone coming. We should go!

Count: What already?

The Countess and the Count flee in opposite directions

Figaro: Now it’s quiet. The traitors are gone. I’ll soon show them what’s what.

Suzanna: Figaro, be quiet!

Figaro: Wait is that my wife disguised as the Countess? That must mean the person meeting the Count is actually Rosina! My wife is so much more clever than I give her credit for. Buuuuut she also deserves to be punished because she tricked me. *he throws himself at Suzanna’s feet* Dear Countess, now that we are alone, I can finally confess my love to you!

Suzanna: *hitting him with her fan* OMG HOW DARE YOU FAITHLESS HUSBAND TAKE THAT AND THAT I HATE YOU

Figaro: Honeyyyyyyy I knew it was you, I recognized your voice.

Suzanna: Oh shit sorry

Figaro: Now let’s continue the ploy and make the Count furious!

The Count comes back and sees them

Count: OMG WHAT IS GOING ON FIGARO IS MAKING ADVANCES ON MY WIFE WHAT A TRAITOR NOT LIKE I WAS JUST DOING THE EXACT SAME THING TO HIM WITH SUZANNA

Figaro and Suzanna: Oh no! The jig is up! *they run into the arbor*

Count: FIRE POLICE AMBULANCE SOMEBODY HELP I’M GOING TO KILL THIS GUY

Basilio, Bartolo, Antonio, and also Curzio for some reason all come in

All of them: WHAT’S ALL THE RACKET

Count: THEY’RE IN THE ARBOR GET THEM *Figaro, Suzanna, Cherubino, and Barbarina all run out of the arbor* wtf how many people are hiding in here

Figaro, Suzanna, Cherubino, Barbarina: Please don’t hurt us, sir, ‘twas all in good fun.

Count: Nope I’ve been humiliated y’all are in so much trouble

The Countess enters; she and Suzanna take off their disguises so everyone can see

Countess: Well, I’m the Countess, so I can grant them pardon.

Count: Omg this is the cherry on top of the sundae, I’m so ashamed and totally learned my lesson. Please forgive me.

Countess: I forgive you, dear, because I’m a softy and also kind of naïve and I’m sure this apology actually means something even though you’ve said sorry about a million times and never changed.

All: What a great moment, everyone’s reconciling and we’ll all live happily ever after. Even after all these tricks and trials love will always win out. No let’s all go party again even though it’s probably like midnight right now.

Everyone leaves to go to the party.

Fin

#le nozze di figaro #the marriage of figaro #opera tag #abbreviated operas #opera summarized #notyouraveragejulie

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purpleswans1 · 5 years ago

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The Father was Replaced by a Villain

Here’s day 8, again using my Villain!Izuku AU. I’m using the whumptober prompt this time, which is “stab wound.” Content warning for graphic violence, blood, character death, and kidnapping.

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timeclonemike · 6 years ago

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Random Idea: “Portia” Spider-Man AU

I haven’t actually seen Into The Spiderverse myself, but I have read that it has started a trend towards people coming up with their own Spider-Man AUs. More specifically I read that there’s a lot of people lashing out against that for some reason, which I don’t get.

I also watched a walkthrough of the PS4 game, which actually motivated me to work on a completely different project.

I might as well state right now that I do not have an encyclopedic knowledge of Spider-Man in particular, or the Marvel multiverse in general, much less the exponentially greater possibilities that come from a huge fan base. To the best of my limited knowledge, I don’t think I’m treading on anyone’s toes, and if it turns out somebody had the same ideas before me and reads this, I promise I’m not trying to steal your thunder.

The Origin: Pyotr “Peter” Parker is second generation Russian-American living in the Big Apple. He’s a scientific prodigy, and he was well on his way to getting a scholarship that would launch him to dizzying academic and technical heights when his life was demolished; his mother, father, and uncle were all killed in some sort of crossfire between different mob families. His academic performance and social life were also casualties, first from grief, and later from the impotent rage burning inside him from seeing nothing at all happen to find and punish those who had done so much harm. The kid who was on a fast track to following in the footsteps of such scientific visionaries as Tony Stark, Hank Pym, and Oswald Octavius did the bare minimum of work needed to keep his teachers and Aunt May (his only living relative) off of his back; the rest of his days and much of his nights were spent in an angry haze of revenge-based daydreams and fantasies.

The Transformation: Peter does not remember exactly how, but one morning he woke up with a painfully swollen spider bite. After a day or so, the swelling went away, but it was replaced by other “symptoms” that were decidedly more permanent. In no particular order, he could stick to various surfaces, detect motion nearby, and found that his strength and agility were dramatically increased. Most dramatic of all, he could jump much, much farther than any human being had any business jumping. To an angsty, hormonal teenager who had fumed and raged inwardly as he watched the injustice perpetrated on his family go unpunished for years, it was like Christmas morning. (It was actually Arbor Day, but that’s not really important.) With barely enough sense to get gloves, a ski mask, and goggles to hide his identity, he set out to to do by himself what the police and the courts could not, or would not, do through proper channels.

The Defeat: Superpowers or not, a teenager is not a match for multiple, competing organized crime families. Peter was shot four times, twice in the left leg, once in the right shoulder, and one glancing blow to the skull that would have punched his clock if not for his Spider-Sense based reflexes. With a concussion, a leg that couldn’t support his weight, and a whole lot of lost blood, Peter was forced to back off to some place safe, call 911, and nearly collapse right after tossing his “costume” in the closest dumpster. Emergency surgery and a blood transfusion saved his life, and while his recovery was almost miraculously fast according to the doctors and nurses keeping an eye on him, he still had to convalesce.

The Lesson: The time spent in bed, with nothing to do but mull over his defeat, forces him to reconsider what he is doing and why. He was about ready to throw all his dreams of revenge out the window and move on with his life... when the assassins showed up. After all, gunshot wounds are reported to police, and not every officer who swears to uphold the law actually keeps that oath. The assassins try to smother Peter while he pretends to be asleep; for their trouble, they get kicked with the same amount of force that previously launched Peter across streets and up the sides of buildings. Fortunately for them, they are in a hospital already. With a paranoia that has nothing to do with his new danger-detector in his head, Pete leaves the hospital without being officially discharged, makes it home, and discovers that his Aunt May ended up taking out two home invaders... and instead of the invaders being carted off, Aunt May is the one being held on trumped up charges. Peter has the consequences of his actions thrust into his face, and he angsts over his irresponsibility for all of five minutes before he has an epiphany that few Spider-themed superheroes ever figure out: Not everything bad that happens is automatically his fault.

The Comeback: While only a few days older, Peter is now much wiser, and begins a methodical plan of attack. The forces arrayed against his family cover the city like a web, but he’s learned a lot about spiders recently. Between phone calls, letters, and Duck Duck Go, Peter maps out the people he has to fight. These include a hanging judge, an attorney general living beyond her apparent means, and a couple of cops who have some black marks on other people’s social media, if not their professional records. With a new, thematically different costume, some cheap smartphones, and gadgets put together from dollar store specials and dumpster diving, Peter starts collecting evidence of corruption and leaving flash drives and SD cards in the mailboxes of the people who seem to be trustworthy. The gears of justice start to grind, while the gears of corruption have sand thrown into them. (What actually happened is that Peter found the AG was in the mob’s pocket, kidnapped her, called her “handlers” and played back some carefully edited sound bites recorded from a rival family’s conversations. Her “execution” was interrupted, but her home and worldly possessions went up in flames at the same time. She suddenly has much larger problems than she did before.)

The Arch Enemy: Aunt May’s two counts of justified self defense are properly rendered as such by a court that does not have multiple actors in somebody’s pocket. Turns out a whole lot of internal affairs investigations have opened up, and a laundry list of cold cases have been opened, in addition to the conflicts already set in motion. What keeps May and Peter safe, though, is what happens to a mover and shaker way up in the food chain (known as “Hammerhead” to his subordinates because of his shark-like ferocity). Hammerhead gets a mysterious visit from a masked figure who kicks his ass three ways from Sunday, and who lets him know that he’s taking his time to make him suffer for killing the masked figure’s brother. Three bullets are put into Hammerhead with his own sidearm, but the bullet that would have gone in the man’s skull misses, apparently because his guys finally showed up to help him. Hammerhead falls for the ruse hook, line, sinker and compressed air tank, and all the resources dedicated to finding this spider-themed vigilante get aimed in different directions, including the ones that had been sent after this Pyotr Parker kid, since he’s an only child. (The guys sent after Parker don’t have much to say, because his kicks packed a wallop and also because nobody contradicts Hammerhead when he’s angry.) This lays the foundation of a mutual hatred that lasts for the next decade at least, and “The Hammerhead versus The Spider Man” becomes a popular topic of discussion and speculation in the criminal underworld, law enforcement, civilian social media, and the hero community.

The Method: Unlike many Spider-Men, Peter isn’t explicitly an out and out hero. The last time he had ambitions of heroism, rushing in like Iron Man or Thor or Daredevil, he ended up in the hospital. To the contrary, by imitating the methods of his criminal prey, he achieved results far beyond his most optimistic predictions. In that sense, his spider-motif resembles that of the Portia Jumping Spider, a genus of spider species that hunt and prey on other spiders. His powers reflect this, with his impressive jumping abilities. Also like the Portia spiders, Peter stalks his prey and studies their strengths and weaknesses before developing the perfect way to take them down. Sometimes this comes from capturing sensitive information and delivering it to those who can do the most damage with it. Sometimes this means a more immediate response, like a kick that can ruin somebody’s whole day plus the rest of the week. What really sets Peter apart, though, is the “criminal” empire that he is growing using the resources he steals from his targets. Granted, his “Drug Labs” are churning out generic insulin at affordable prices, but it’s the principle of the thing. Likewise, the sex workers and street walkers in Spider-Man’s “territory” have seen a massive drop in violence once he cornered a particularly belligerent john in an alley and mentioned that a lot of male spiders have their sex organ bitten off by the female.

The Gadgets: Unlike most, if not all, Spider-Men in the multiverse, Peter never came up with the idea of web-shooters or web fluid. He has a number of other tricks up his sleeve, sometimes literally, that fill the vacuum when it comes to mobility, combat, and controlling the combat environment. The most complex of these would have to be his costume, which also diverges dramatically from what other Spider Themed Heroes use, in that it is designed to blend in rather than stand out. The basic suit color scheme is a grey-green mixture that’s hard to see under low-light conditions, and Peter has a number of optional “urban ghillie suits” that can look like grey concrete, brick, rusted steel, or other patterns. He’s also been known to take his enemy’s clothing, but it’s not clear how much of this is intended to help him infiltrate them and turn them on each other and how much of it is just humiliating his defeated foes. His mask incorporates multiple vision enhancement devices, from light amplification to infra-red to sonar and radar, and these give him a multi-eyed appearance in keeping with the spider theme. Defensively and offensively, he has arm-mounted weapons that incorporate compressed air guns that can fire chemical darts at range, and provide a close-range electrical charge to incapacitate people in close combat. (In the early days he carried a literal dart gun and stun gun but kept losing them during fights.) Finally, he carries a small arsenal of counter-intelligence tools designed to let him eavesdrop on targets, clone their cell phones, break into secure areas without leaving signs of forced entry, and jam or intercept enemy communications. All of them are incorporated into his suit. He has ambitions of getting an Octavius Harness, since extra arms would complete the spider motif and also make him far more dangerous in combat, but he can’t afford it and he’s years away from learning how to jailbreak the safety features that Doctor Octavius put on his technology to keep it from being stolen.

The Cover: When he’s not making life interesting for the criminal underworld of New York City, Peter works as a photographer. He’s done contract work for the Daily Bugle, including the occasional shot of this Spider Man character, but most of his income is from people needing photographs of their belongings for insurance reasons. After all, this is a world where superheroes and supervillains go toe-to-toe at least twice a week. He’s done weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, graduations, family reunions, anniversaries, baby gender reveal parties, and more. He’s also done some stuff that would normally be within the purview of a private investigator, despite the legal risks, in order to make ends meet. His social circle is limited to a handful of people who still tolerated him when he was lashing out at the world as a teenager, which is basically a handful of former classmates that have moved on to college, trade school, or something else, especially Miles Morales (who also lost family at a young age), Felicia Hardy, and Eddie Brock. His dating life is non-existant despite multiple attempts by both Eddie and Miles to play matchmaker.

The Rogue’s Gallery: The Spider Man has a long standing antagonism with Hammerhead, but has occasionally faced off against other supervillains and even some superheroes. On the villain side, Peter has defeated an electricity controlling lunatic named Electro, some guy in a rocket assisted flight suit the press called the Vulture, the enigmatic and theatrical Mysterio, and some one or something called the Sand Man. Unfortunately, Peter beat the Sand Man by fusing him into glass, and was not able to pull off the same stunt twice. The former Sand Man, calling himself Vitreous, had to be stopped by the Avengers, and The Spider Man’s role in the creation of a much more dangerous villain is what got him on the radar of so many heroes in the first place. For the most part, he knows he’s outclassed and doesn’t really want to fight people who, in theory, have the same general goals, so he tends to run from these encounters. So far he’s managed to evade Iron Man, Hawkeye, and Oswald Octavius in his superhero alter ego of Doctor Octopus. His encounter with Loki resulted in Peter getting the upper hand in classic trickster legend style, earning the God of Mischief’s respect. In other cases, Peter has not been so lucky; while he managed to escape each time, he’s been almost crushed to death by Giant Man, beaten to a pulp by Captain America, and drop kicked into the East River by the Hulk as if he was some sort of football. He has technically never fought Dr. Strange, but was involved in a fracas between the Sorcerer Supreme, Deadpool, and Dr. Doom that resulted in the Eye of Agomotto being lost for five years; everyone involved has agreed to never speak of what happened again. Finally, there’s the matter of Sean Gargan, an aspiring superhero with Scorpion themed powers who has sworn to bring The Spider Man to justice after his father, Mac Gargan, was injured while The Spider Man was fighting Electro.

#spiderman #spiderverse #AU #Portia Spider

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maksylmyheart · 6 years ago

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Olympians Meryl Davis and Charlie White Represent Detroit at U.S. Figure Skating Championships

Published October 1, 2018 by Stephanie Steinberg

Four years after earning gold, ice dancers Meryl Davis and Charlie White are excited to welcome the figure skating community to the Motor City this winter.

By Stephanie Steinberg

Photography by Allison Farrand

When the U.S. Figure Skating Championships comes to Little Caesars Arena this January, attendees may spot Olympic ice dancers Meryl Davis and Charlie White — but not on the ice.

The Metro Detroit natives who became the first American ice dancers to win gold at the 2014 Olympics will be honorary co-chairs for the biggest figure skating event in the country Jan. 19-27. It’s an event they know well, having won it six times.

Now, Davis, 31, of Birmingham, and White, 30, of Ann Arbor, can’t wait to welcome their figure skating community to Detroit. The U.S. Championships — which serves as the final qualifying event for the World Championships every year and the Olympics every four years — was last held in the Motor City in 1994.

“We really want to highlight the best of Detroit,” Davis says, “so we’re really excited to show off what an incredible place Detroit is now.”

Meryl Davis and Charlie White will be co-chairing the U.S. Figure Skating Championships in Detroit this January.

Since winning the gold in Sochi, the pair has embarked on a professional ice dancing career. Perched on high-top chairs at Arctic Edge Ice Arena in Canton — where they’ve practiced since 2005 — the two take a break from choreographing a routine for a “Friends on Ice” tour in Tokyo. A few weeks prior, they wrapped up a nationwide “Stars on Ice” tour.

They’re on the road a lot, but their faces resemble the gratification of nailing a twizzle when they chat about home.

“We have spent so much time away and so much time traveling, seeing the beauty of the world, getting to meet new people, see new places, but Detroit is always home for us,” Davis says.

And specifically, this rink.

Charlie White and Meryl Davis pose for a portrait at Arctic Edge Ice Arena in Canton.

When training for the Olympics, they were here five days a week, sometimes six hours a day. They sacrificed their social lives, family time and degrees at the University of Michigan. “We’re on the 12-year plan,” Davis jokes, adding she plans to graduate this May.

While the pressure of winning an Olympic medal is lifted off their shoulders, they still feel the pressure to maintain excellence.

“When practicing for shows, we look up here at the medals that they’ve put up,” says White, pointing to a banner with their names above the rink entrance, “and we’re like, ‘OK, we really need to try.’ ”

A banner commemorating Meryl Davis and Charlie White’s 2014 Olympic gold medal win hangs at Arctic Edge Ice Arena in Canton.

But now, the ice means more than competitions and shows. Both have taken to the rink to give back to a sport that’s given them so much. “The things we’re most grateful for from figure skating are the lessons that we learned,” White says. “… and it’s taught us a lot about ourselves.”

White now travels across the country, helping younger skaters, while Davis has poured energy into an organization that’s won her heart: Figure Skating in Detroit.

Figure Skating in Detroit is the first branch of Figure Skating in Harlem that started 21 years ago in New York. Davis says the organization wanted to expand to a new city to positively impact youth, and she helped convince the CEO to come to Detroit.

Meryl Davis (far left) joined Figure Skating in Detroit for ice skating in Campus Martius last winter.

The second year of the after-school program starts this month, and about 50 girls are enrolled. Davis explains figure skating can teach girls the skills they need now and later in life.

“It’s not about necessarily making Olympians or the most successful figure skaters, but figure skating is a platform and a tool with which to teach girls things like setting goals, picking themselves up when they fall down, persevering through challenges, supporting one another,” she says.

Figure Skating in Detroit Director Lori Ward says Davis is “hands on” — leading clinics, talking to parents and stopping by to work with the girls whenever she’s in town.

“It gives the girls a warm feeling to know that this is somebody who’s leading a very busy life, but yet she still takes time to come and actually participate with them and get to know their names,” Ward says.

For Davis, she says it’s been rewarding to watch the program grow “from the ground up.”

“To see the girls from that initial session we had, and not really knowing what to expect, to just these flourishing young ladies who are friends and support each other and really grasp these very important life concepts, is really spectacular.”

It’s not lost on the ice dancers that their medals have allowed them to have such an impact on others and the sport itself.

“Being able to stand on the (Olympic) podium and recognize what that means for ice dance moving forward,” White says “… it’s even hard to put into words.”

Meryl Davis and Charlie White celebrate on the podium during the medal ceremony at the Sochi 2014 Winter Olympics Feb. 18, 2014 in Russia.

Davis chimes in to elaborate: “When we were young, very few people outside of the committed figure skating fans and family knew what ice dance even was, so to see people with really no connection to figure skating, even know what ice dance is, was really important for us.”

She describes a surreal moment when they flew to New York from Sochi for press interviews before heading home.

“We were walking on the streets of the city,” Davis recalls. “There would be random groups of middle-aged businessmen saying, ‘Oh, you’re the ice dancers! We loved watching you!’ ” Sweat, blood and bruised knees got them to that point. Yet they admit they did have “some luck” meeting in the first place — back when they were 8 and 9 years old, when White grew up in Bloomfield and Davis in West Bloomfield.

“Finding each other just 10 minutes away in ice dancing is very rare,” says White, whose wife, Canadian ice dancer Tanith Belbin White, came to the U.S. in search of a partner. Tanith found Ben Agosto and trained at Arctic Edge as well. They came in fourth at the 2010 Olympics while White and Davis took silver. “Finding a partner that has a similar work ethic,” White continues, “that is respectful, just like in any team sport, you have to be able to mesh and even more so when it’s just two of you — that plays a crucial role.”

Meryl Davis and Charlie White practice at Arctic Edge Ice Arena in Canton.

That’s not to say they’ve never competed against each other. Right after the Olympics, the two competed in ABC’s “Dancing with the Stars” — in the middle of a “Stars on Ice” tour. Tuesday through Saturday they skated throughout the U.S. They’d take the redeye to L.A. to record the reality show on Monday. Then they hit the road again. The adrenaline from winning the Olympics kept them on their feet, White says.

“We really were living on the energy of the audiences every night,” adds Davis, who won the season with dance partner Maksim Chmerkovskiy. “We wouldn’t have survived, if it wasn’t such a fun experience and people being so supportive, because we were exhausted, for sure.”

Four years later, the duo are quite content going at their own pace and enjoying all that Michigan has to offer. Davis and her fiance can be spotted trying new Detroit restaurants (Selden Standard is one of her favorites) or hanging out downtown in the artistic alley the Belt. “I just love that whole area,” Davis says. “I think it just really shows the efforts of what’s happening in the city now.”

White, meanwhile, jokes that he rarely leaves the house because he has an 11-month-old son, but you might see him around Ann Arbor. “Main Street in Ann Arbor is honestly one of my favorite places in the world,” he says.

One thing is certain: You can catch them both at LCA this January, and they encourage all Metro Detroiters to come see the most elite skaters in the U.S.

“It’s just an incredible experience to get to watch these hardworking athletes go after the opportunity to represent their country on the world stage,” Davis says.

“We’re looking forward to being able to watch — no pressure for us,” White adds, laughing.

#Meryl Davis #charlie white

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flapperfromthefuture · 6 years ago

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I have a lot of anxiety about going to the doctor. I was particularly anxious about my most recent check-up as I had to get my blood drawn, and I haven’t had my blood drawn since second grade. Why? It’s not important.

So Stella and I planned to hit up the Ann Arbor Art Fair right after my appointment, which was a great idea since the shuttle stop was right across the street from my doctor and nothing soothes my frantic brain like “Only a few minutes until you get to browse some artisanal ceramics!”

Of course, the very last thing I had to do at my appointment was get my blood drawn. I was so close to the door.

I could’ve just bolted. But no, I had to be an adult. I nervously babbled the whole time—”Just so you know, I’m not going to look or anything because I’m really nervous around needles and the last time I got my blood drawn was when I was seven and some lady held me on her lap and fed me those Valentine’s hearts with the words on them while I cried and I still can’t eat those without feeling sick and oh you’re done already?”

Who knew phlebotomy had advanced so much?

I floated out of there on wings of endorphins and met Stella at the shuttle—along with everyone else in the county.

The Ann Arbor Art Fair is no ordinary art fair. It’s actually four decent-sized art fairs combined into one mega-art fair that consumes over 30 city blocks. Thousands of people descend upon downtown and if you’re not prepared for the sweltering heat, wall-to-wall crowds, and the gladiator battle for parking, you’re going to get chewed up and spat out somewhere near the mixed-media installations.

Stella and I always pre-game by analyzing the official artist line-up and charting a course ahead of time. We knew we wanted to see certain artists that we’d bought from before, a few new ones that caught our interest, and I always try to see every wildlife or plant photographer because that’s just who I am as a person. Stella goes for anyone doing any kind of classic rock-inspired art or industrial chic. So we had our work cut out for us.

It started raining while we were on the shuttle bus. Most art fairs would suffer a lower turnout because of bad weather, but rain only makes the Ann Arbor Art Fair stronger.

Stella and I had umbrellas, hats, sunscreen, semi-decent shoes, and water. This was not our first rodeo. The bus driver dropped us off with a cheery farewell—”Stay dry, stay hydrated, and don’t spend more than you can carry!”

We popped our umbrellas and headed into the fray. Almost immediately I saw something I never knew I desperately needed but could not justify buying even if the world was ending—stone sculptures made of real fossilized leaves. It’s everything I love! Giant plants and rainbow color schemes! There was a little sign that said “Please touch—they like the attention.” I also like attention! I wanted all of them. But I would have had to pawn a pet to buy just one, plus I could never get this giant leaf back on the bus.

The best part of the art fair is the people/dogwatching. I saw several dogs in raincoats and at least four in strollers—one dog was sharing a stroller with a baby, and this delighted us (the baby did not look quite as delighted).

The worst part might be trying to get some food before the heatstroke takes over. Stella and I decided against sampling the food truck that claimed to sell fresh seafood (you know what Michigan is nowhere near? The ocean) and thanks to the art fair, our usual sleepy and well-stocked breakfast joint had run out of both Diet Coke and ketchup, which together make up a good thirty-five percent of what I eat.

Hmm, maybe my doctor should draw my blood more often.

So we ended up walking a good five blocks to the safety of the vegan restaurant. No crowds, no exhaustion of critical supplies, just cashews in everything. And I mean everything.

When we returned to the fray, we investigated a booth where a woman claimed to be able to tell your future by reading bones (legit) and another where all the art was made of humanely collected butterfly leaves, from necklaces and earrings to windcatchers and drawings.

“Wings are really speaking to me right now,” said Stella.

Meanwhile, I was tempted by steampunk goggles, which always speak to me, and say something like, “You don’t need us, but also maybe you do?”

There are always these gigantic sculptures of cacti and hummingbirds and flowers and fountains the size of my car and whirligigs that look like they’d take out your mailbox and the old lady next door in a storm. I don’t know who buys them, but somebody must, because they come back every year.

I also saw this character, whose motivations and background I don’t know at all, but she did flash me a peace sign, so her intentions must be pure.

While I was distracted by following the basket lady, I lost Stella in the crowd. Now, losing your assigned adult during the art fair is the recurring nightmare of every Ann Arbor child: “I’m lost forever, so I’ll have to make my way selling water bottles or handing out pamphlets at one of the non-profit booths. Should I go to the Mars Society or the Ban Infant Circumcision people first?”

I wandered around for a few minutes, dodging the Jews for Jesus with ninja-like precision, until Stella found me. “Sorry, I was talking to the leaf people,” she said, pointing to a booth selling jewelry made of succulents.

“It’s the art fair,” I shrugged. “You’re going to get stuck talking to some leaf people.”

Here’s the other thing I had to do at my doctor’s appointment—get my yearly TB test, which isn’t a big deal, except the very evening before I had a class where I learned a ton about TB, like that it’s ridiculously contagious and super difficult to treat and kills millions of people every year and best case scenario you’re on debilitating antibiotics for a couple of years but oh man, if you get a drug-resistant strain, you are effed.

And it’s endemic pretty much everywhere on Earth, even good ol’ Ann Arbor.

So picture me wandering through a giant crowd of people, many of whom are coughing and sneezing and touching everything they possibly can, clutching my umbrella like a shield and glancing at my TB test to see if it starts glowing or something, all while Stella babbles about bud vases. It was quite the banner Ann Arbor day.

I didn’t end up buying anything—Stella got a really cool print of a sea turtle whose shell is a VW bus, because that’s who she is as a person—but the whole experience was worth it because I got to see a dog being pulled in a wagon that was lined with comfy blankets, packed with a private water supply, and equipped with a personal fan. This dog had his own breeze and was clearly living his best life, smiling at everyone and grooving to the acoustic guitars that seem to play themselves when downtown hits max capacity .

I’ve never seen a happier creature at an art fair. Maybe this is the heat talking or the fact that I walked 7.3 miles in sandals with only cashews as fuel, but I either want to be reincarnated as this dog or start a religion around this dog. Haven’t decided yet.

I Bleed for the Ann Arbor Art Fair I have a lot of anxiety about going to the doctor. I was particularly anxious about my most recent check-up as I had to get my blood drawn, and I haven't had my blood drawn since second grade.

#ann arbor #art #art fair #dogs #film #painting #printmaking #shopping #vegan

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dogwitchcity · 4 years ago

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What I Didn’t Know About Love::

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#androidlust

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shuvomainul · 4 years ago

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Rimable Longboards Review – Are They Any Good?

At the point when I began skateboarding, I was flying visually impaired. I just realized I needed to skate. I set aside my remittance and purchased a nonexclusive, off-the-rack total board. Yet, I before long understood that I required better apparatus, so I supplanted it each piece in turn. I started with better haggles. They had a gigantic effect, as did new trucks. Inevitably, I dished out the cash for a quality deck, and my first genuine complete was… finished.

The sheets in this Rimable longboard audit would all well in a comparative circumstance. At the point when you initially choose to skate, you don't have a clue whether skating's for you (it is).

Numerous learners buy less expensive sheets like these as a passage into longboarding, and there is literally nothing amiss with that. After you've been riding for some time and you figure out quality, you will probably choose to leave behind (or set aside) more cash for your next load up. As a gateway, however, Rimable sheets bode well. Allow me to clarify.

Who is Rimable?

Rimable is a reserved name having a place with Yongkang Ydream Fitness Equipment Co., Ltd. Situated in China, this organization makes something beyond skateboards. Roller blades, bikes, wellness gear and toys are each a piece of their product offering. In that lies one issue: Rimable isn't a skateboarding-centered maker. It has no site, and client assistance is invalid. To check whether that is an issue, how about we burrow somewhat more profound and look at a portion of the Rimable longboard choices.

The Deuce-Deuce – Rimable 22″ survey

The Rimable 22 is the organization's take (duplicate?) on a Penny board. It is a 22-inch-long, six-inch-wide plastic smaller than usual cruiser. It has three-inch-wide trucks and unexceptional polyurethane wheels with ABEC-7 course.

The Original Penny sheets are costly, that said you may locate Rimable's 22″ "Penny's other option" for a small amount of the expense

These sheets are semi-pragmatic as transportation due to their convenientce, and some accomplished skaters can even gain proficiency with certain stunts on them. The cost of confirmation makes these sheets a possibility for a starting skateboarder. In any case, being so little, there is little space to remain on one, making them hard for even experienced riders to control.

The Penny board has become a design explanation, and the smallest Rimable is a fine and parsimonious option in contrast to the more costly name brand. Yet, in case you're hoping to get into more specialized longboarding, these relics of the 70s are not a genuine alternative.

Where the Fun Begins: Pintails

The pintail is a customary shape in longboarding, enlivened by surfboards and implied for cruising and cutting. The Rimable Pintail longboard deck has nine handles of cold-squeezed maple, and measures 41 inches in length and 9.5 inches wide.

It incorporates 7-inch, aluminum Rimable converse boss trucks (switch top dogs lessen the probability of speed wobbles) and 70mm wheels with a durometer of 85A. The orientation are ABEC 11 which, as opposed to being a common ABEC rating (ABEC evaluations stop at nine), is really a spending brand name. The Rimable bamboo pintail uses bamboo in the base layer of the deck to add adaptability, yet all that else is the equivalent. Both the all-maple Rimable Pintail and the bamboo model can be had on Amazon.com extensively less expensive than premium contenders.

The two sheets accompany smooth illustrations applied, however they may not last on the off chance that you misuse your board. The decks have a slight measure of sunken, however are compliment and more efficiently made than premium options like this Arbor pintail on Amazon.com.

Look at this video audit to get a live glance at an Arbor and a thought of the highlights that the additional money will get you. The Rimables will manage the work and make them cut and slicing in a matter of seconds, however life span may be an issue in the event that they are ridden hard.

The Need for Speed: Rimable Drop Through and Drop Deck Review

The Rimable drop-through, similar to all sheets of this sort, is intended to move at a quicker clasp than a pintail. It is 41 inches in length and 9.5 inches long, with nine utilizes of maple. The 7-inch aluminum trucks go through the board and mount on the top.

This brings down the focal point of mass on the board, helping you skate quicker while being more steady on downhill runs. The trucks, haggles are in no way different as on the pintails. Another board choice, which puts the rider much closer to the asphalt for solidness on significant distance rides, is the Rimable drop deck. The two sheets include cutaways at the trucks to encourage lean without taking a chance with the feared wheel chomp.

Drop-through longboards and drop decks are intended to go quick, and these Rimables are a spending alternative in the event that you need to dunk your toes in the declining water. Contrasted with this Sector 9 on Amazon.com, the Rimable drop-through can be had for a small amount of the expense. Notwithstanding, you will get what you pay for. The Sector 9 is prepared to bomb on appearance, while the Rimable (and its parts) will have a restricted life expectancy whenever ridden to limits.

What's Good Abour Rimable Longboards?

All the Rimable models make satisfactory doors into longboarding. The nine-utilize maple decks are strong and look great. The value point is appealing and makes it sensible to consider evaluating a board type that intrigues you without making good several dollars for what may turn into a room decoration.

• Decent decks that are constructed positively

• Affordable costs over the wide product offering

• Low-hazard alternative for evaluating new style of board

What's NOT so Good?

I need to disclose to you this. There are some central contrasts between TOP level (more costly) and LOWER level (less expensive) sheets.

Rimable illustrations, however simple on the eyes, are as yet applied inexpensively, and the trucks and wheels are lower-grade than premium choices like Paris or Gullwing. I've heard individuals periodically gripe about quality control issues, however from what I've heard any plant blunders are rectified by the dealer. A trade out for another part will probably fix the issue, yet, anyway uncommon, this is an issue Rimable should address.

• Quality control issues from Chinese plant

• Less-than-premium segments will require inevitable supplanting

• Generic trucks not as strong or useful as name-brand choices

The Bottom Line

In case you're simply beginning and you don't know whether you need to ride a skateboard (you do), at that point Rimable is a good spot to begin. The parts aren't first rate, yet they will last while you figure out how to turn, and each can be redesigned. Simply don't be tricked by the entirety of the different audits that you can discover on the web.

All skateboards appear to be quick when you first beginning riding, and when somebody alludes to longboard wheels as "tires", they're clearly confused. Rimables are, best case scenario, a three-or four-star choice, yet one that will do the trick for a start longboarder.

At long last, the longboards in the Rimable arrangement are what you would anticipate that them should be. The section level costs are appealing, yet in the event that you keep on riding, your Rimable will outlast its helpfulness. At the point when that day comes, investigate Heelside Chill to discover the longboard that will keep you cutting for quite a long time to come.

#skateshouse #Best longboard

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folkstudies · 7 years ago

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College Personalities Masterpost

[This is supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, and I get that everyone will have a different opinion. No offense intended!]

***

Universities

Harvard: The Stanford of the East. They go to Harvard, sweaty :))), and will make sure you know it. Senator’s sons: brash, smart, and never loved enough as children. Marxists who will graduate only to become CEOs. High School Salutatorians.

Yale: Power gays and hyperfocused law students. Secret societies, a housing system like Hogwarts’s, and a fistful of adderall in every pocket. High School Valedictorians.

Dartmouth: Frat guys, athletic stoners, and upper middle class mountaineers. Imagine a Penn student who spends their summer semester at Brown, vaping their way through business school.

Penn: Future opioid abusing bankers, who party hard but have enough connections to compensate for their academic performance. Like Dartmouth but not as chill; like Princeton but not as prissy.

Brown: They would have went to Berkeley, but Mother insisted on an Ivy. Blue hair, red flannel, white skin. They’ve got universal pass fail but it’s taboo to take advantage of the system. The creative version of every subject–their CompSci students go to Pixar and their Biomed students go to Calico.

Cornell: Engineers from old money families and Conrad Hilton fanboys. Are they depressed because they live in Ithaca or because of their crushing workloads? Teenage Kurt Vonneguts. Wealthy, but it’s not always obvious.

Columbia: In a one sided dick measuring contest with Yale. Heavy workloads, heavy drinking. Erudite, ambitious (and they know it). The angel to NYU’s devil. A fast track to the New York Times and Wall Street Journal.

Princeton: Secretly thinks Harvard is for the impoverished. Eating clubs. Well developed Econ and Math departments, but UChicago is catching up. Great undergraduate teaching, especially if you fit in with the culture.

Stanford: They’d have gone to Harvard, but California is the closest thing Earth’s got to Eden and Massachusetts is…clammy. Massive startup culture. Duck syndrome and stress culture. Elitist, especially about class and status, but somehow gets a pass.

Caltech: “Hey MIT, we’re you but stronger.” Pretends that test scores trump all other metrics of success, because they’re *Number One at the SAT, baby.* Something of a male dominated culture, lighthearted.

MIT: Robotics, engineering, business, and math. 90s computer nerd aesthetic but in an ironic way. Sunlight averse. 1) study hard 2) ??? 3) profit

Duke: Beautifully gothic. Has successfully implemented a caste system, albeit informally. Intelligent, southern socialites. United by basketball, divided by highschool-esque cliques.

UChicago: Will fight the Ivies on sight. Very good at Econ and Law with an intense classical “core” curriculum. Have your weekly panic attack in a stunning glass egg-inspired library. “If you study hard enough you can become God.”

Vanderbilt: The scent of Tennessee honey in the trees. Frat culture. Los Angeles’s beauty standards, Mississippi’s snark.

Johns Hopkins: Students are required to duel you if you call it “John Hopkin’s.” People who have been premed since third grade. Academically intense without being prestige obsessed–I’d cautiously call it “well balanced.” They’re there to become doctors and medical researchers, period.

Berkeley: Study while a riot between Trump Supporters and Antifa rages outside. If Calculus III has you down and depressed, pick up a can of mace and assault somebody. Competes with Stanford, is the champion of Public Universities. Insanely expensive area to live in. Most students are too absorbed in their academics (read: 3.3 GPA CompSci qualifier) to worry about much else.

UMich: Berkeley but with snow. Ann Arbor is as good as college towns get, but has almost dangerous levels of school spirit. International students with $4k apartments and $850 winter coats. “Harvard waitlisted me but I’m not even mad.”

UCLA: Everyone is a former premed. Valley girls and the Asian students they make problematic comments about. Frat guys lost in a scary world where you can’t pass a midterm with a hangover. Cal’s politically stable cousin.

USC: “The University of Spoiled Children” still rings true sometimes, but not as much anymore. There are some seriously competitive academic programs hidden behind Los Angeles’s gauzy party culture. Loyal alumni.

WUSTL: Cooperative with a competitive biology program. Low school spirit, largely because their last star athlete graduated in 1943. Prominent STEM culture, but not exactly nerdy. A midwestern fusion of Brown and Columbia.

Carnegie Mellon: UPitt’s smaller, bourgeois sister. Cliquey nerds–a Drama student would rather die than speak with an Engineer, and visa versa. CompSci champions.

Northwestern: Nerdwestern and Northwasted. They went to private high schools and it’s obvious. Show up to your Art History final drunk on rosé. A version of UChicago where you won’t get mugged on campus.

UWash: Architecture designed by Athena herself. The premed children of Microsoft engineers. White boys wearing colored socks and Nike sandals. Washington rains endlessly with the tears of tormented Amazon employees.

Rice: A refreshing dose of New England in the depths of Texas. “Hmm, Rice? I’ve never heard of it!” Spanish architecture, conquistador vibes. You’ve got a fair chance of finding the library packed at 1am, depending on what week it is. The MIT of the South.

Penn State: Drinking school with a football problem. Parties harder than Miami U. Not really bothered that they get confused with UPenn. Mild frat culture.

Boston University: Rich girls and self centered frat bros. Hipsters and hipster engineers. Athletes in the CGS (“Crayons, Glue, and Scissors”) school. Wealthy slackers who will regale you with tales of Martha’s Vineyard over break.

UVA: Preppy but not on purpose. Public school snobs. Southern-ish and definitely conservative. DC kids with a seemingly endless flow of money from home. The wealthiest, whitest school that’s not called Harvard.

LACs

Williams: Oxford and Harvard’s laid back son. Amherst can suck a dick. The bourgeois version of outdoorsy. Sports culture despite not being in a major division.

Amherst: Prelaw or business. Pastel polos, party drugs, and a general Gilded Age aesthetic. General distaste for the hoi polloi.

Swarthmore: “Swatkward.” Highly academic atmosphere, no time for social skills. Beautiful leafy campus. UPenn students aren’t shit compared to us. Stress culture so intense it would make a UChicago student weep.

Tufts: Don’t ask us if we got denied at the Ivies. Friendly, midsize school that maintains the atmosphere of an LAC. Very good International Relations and Philosophy (Dr. Daniel Dennett!) programs.

Reed: Swarthmore but with a lot of LSD. Atheism, communism, and free love. No one here knows a goddamn thing about sex ed. Nuclear reactor that students can train to work at.

Grinnell: Brown’s midwestern cousin. Concrete, glass, and corn. Well developed STEM programs, especially for an LAC. Close knit community, extreme hookup culture. Quirky. Emphasis on writing skill. Gigantic per-student endowment.

Carleton: Trimester system that intensifies the academic culture. Cold winters, warm hearts. Parties more than a typical LAC but there’s still a sense of awkwardness. The smart version of eccentric. Mini Northwestern.

Bowdoin: Not a single person here has ever known a moment of hardship. Dining hall food that could earn a Michelin star. Rich, white, and cliquey. A pretty significant “old sport” culture. Everyone pays full tuition.

Pomona: Like a university packaged as an LAC. All the benefits of California, located next to the Greatest American City—Los Angeles. Large endowment, lots of opportunities. Flagship of the Claremont colleges. Mini Stanford.

Harvey Mudd: A tiny population of quirky engineers. The one true STEM LAC. Mini MIT. Male dominated, socially awkward, highly academic.

Middlebury: Bourgeoisie teenagers in the wilderness. Has a reputation for excellent language programs despite that fame stemming largely from summer specific programs. Quirky, in a reserved way. An amalgam of Dartmouth and Columbia.

Oberlin: What conservatives think liberals are like. A dot of blue in a sea of red. Theatre, music, and dance. “My parents are making me double major in Econ.”

#appblr #college #studyblr #masterpost #mine #ivy league

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karenpadecky · 7 years ago

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Mark Harmon and ‘NCIS’ Cast Celebrate TV Guide Magazine Cover and 15 Seasons on Television (PHOTOS)

NCIS’ Star Mark Harmon Opens up About the Show’s 15-Year Success

Mark Harmon has starred on NCIS for 15 seasons.

He’s the no. 1 star on the world’s No. 1 drama on TV’s No. 1 network. But you’d be hard-pressed to find anything showboat-y about Mark Harmon. The veteran actor, currently in his 15th season as Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs on CBS’s NCIS, settles down for a chat at a mom-and-pop diner not far from his home in Los Angeles. This is one of Harmon’s longtime hangouts, and it’s due to go out of business soon—yet another victim of an unaffordable rent hike. That looming event has him feeling nostalgic and a bit melancholy. Like Gibbs, the 66-year-old Harmon is a guy who radiates old-school decency and honesty. He deflects praise. He dodges any talk of status or power. His modesty would be maddening if it weren’t so refreshing. Is it possible for a TV superstar to actually be normal? Probably not. But Harmon comes damn close.

NCIS star Mark Harmon was joined by his co-stars and friends at the River Rock at Sportsmen’s Lodge in Studio City, California, on Monday, November 6, 2017, to celebrate the show’s 15 seasons on television and the actor’s TV Guide Magazine cover. To catch Harmon’s exclusive inter…

Gibbs returned to work this season severely traumatized after being tortured by terrorists, but there was also a lightness about him, even a twinkle. What’s going on? A sense of discovery, maybe? Gibbs is thankful to be alive. He really thought life was over, and for him to admit that is huge, because he’s not that kind of guy. After all this time, the writers still find new places to take him. NCIS was never a show about the crime cases, because sometimes we solve ’em, sometimes we don’t. This is a show about characters. The audience takes real ownership of the people we play.

Yet, even in Season 15, we still don’t really know Gibbs. And I like that. I was never interested in playing him with a big red S on his chest. I’m much more attracted to the underbelly stuff. Gibbs is a loner, with emotional scars a mile deep that run in a million different directions. At work, he’s a leader. But who is he if you take away his job? I play him, and even I don’t know the answer to that. [Laughs]

NCIS could run forever. Will you stick with it? Right now our writers are all very up and excited. You can see it on their faces. Now, if I ever witness them walking into the writers’ room with their heads down, feeling they’ve done it all, that would be the time to say, “I think I’m done here.” But there is still a real feeling of creativity and a sense of reinvention on our set. It’s so terrific having Maria Bello join us this season [as forensic psychologist Jack Sloane]. She’s not just a great actress. She wants to be with us. That says a lot.

Pauley Perrette Leaving ‘NCIS’ After 15 Seasons

Perrette announced the news on Twitter.

And she’s gone right into the fire. In the November 21 episode, Jack’s close friend—an MI6 officer—is killed by an arms dealer. Despite all the cast changes, it’s always full speed ahead with you guys. Change is healthy. Any actor can depart this show and it will survive. In my mind, there is nothing unclear about how I got here. You go to different shows and hear the chirping about who’s No. 1 on the call sheet or who has the biggest trailer. For me, it’s about doing a job as well as you can. If your job is to get somebody coffee—and I did that in my early days—then make it the best cup of coffee possible. Do the work. And do it with pride.

NCIS is the most-watched series in the world, with 47 million viewers over six continents. How do you get your brain around that? I don’t. You can’t. The international reach is staggering. It’s hard to walk through airports even in the most out-of-the-way places without being surrounded by people who love the show—and that’s nothing to complain about. [Laughs] I’ve done TV shows where I walk through airports apologizing.

You and your wife, Pam Dawber (Mork & Mindy), are extremely private people in an industry that’s super social. Why? It’s not even a choice. It’s who we are. We stay home. A lot. I’m not a Twitter guy or a Facebook guy. Our sons [Sean, 29, and Ty, 25] aren’t into that either. Pam and I have both made a living in this business, and still, there’s a part of that that’s just not natural.

But didn’t you grow up with fame? Your mom, Elyse Knox, was a film actress, and your dad, Tom Harmon, was a Heisman Trophy winner and beloved sportscaster. I did and I didn’t. My parents kept things real. I had no idea they were famous. In fact, it didn’t hit me until one day when I was riding in the car with my father in Ann Arbor, Michigan—I was maybe 8 and could barely see above the dashboard—and we stopped at a crosswalk. Suddenly we were surrounded by people who recognized my dad and were really thrilled to see him. [Laughs] I remember looking at this man I thought I knew so well and thinking, “Who are you?”

Were there times when fame and success just weren’t worth it? I was in the jungles of New Guinea making a not-very-good movie when my firstborn child took his first steps. No job is worth missing life’s important moments.

St. Elsewhere. Chicago Hope. The West Wing. NCIS. You’ve had a remarkable run on TV. What advice do you give to newbies? Choose your mentors carefully. A big one for me was James Garner. That was the kind of career I wanted. Jim would always say, “I don’t care who’s the No. 1 guy in the business right now. That doesn’t last. I just want to be in that Top 10 for 30 years!” For him, it was all about the long haul. I never forgot that.

NCIS, Tuesdays, 8/7c, CBS

#NCIS #MarkHarmon

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