#the majority of my memories from primary school are reading cause I had no friends for 4 out of 6 years

[neon-angels-system]

in primary school I used to pick cicada shells off of trees n put them on my shirt. cause the lil legs were good at sticking onto things + my shirts usually had pretty good grip. one time I collected a whole bunch n stored them behind a tree. but then I forgot where the tree was. sad

[silverybeast]

COEVAL

(Realized I never shared this here. Better late than never!)

My graduation exhibition piece; a symbolic, personal piece of my relationship with my childhood peers.

I wrote a small essay to go with this piece, read under cut.

COEVAL - a twisted memory

[text written in 2021]

note: this text discusses/mentions bullying, abuse, and sexual trauma.

I started it over a year ago, in a sense. I made a simple sketch to visualize an idea born of frustration and spite. A very obviously sexual sketch; I was going for a less surreal and more explicit scene.

That sketch was discarded as I was almost immediately unhappy with it, but I fully intended to try again at some point. I wanted to get this out of my system.

'Coeval' is a personal piece. It is a symbolic portrayal of the relationship I had with many of my childhood peers, but also the emotional violence I see, while not directed at me, directed at people like me on a regular basis.

At the core of it, there is my experience of being pushed aside, silenced, made into something less than a person. For me, it was subtle, and took years to even realize had really happened. Here, I confront it.

It makes me angry that I can consider myself fortunate that I never was physically abused, or outright insulted to my face. Years later I've dealt with social anxiety and depression that at least in part were caused by my experiences with my childhood peers; and I got away easy.

Of all the little things, the actions that hurt the most came from 'fellow' girls. The ones who on the surface were my friends, but ultimately isolated me from their company, or who only came to me for company as a last resort. No one ever said outright that they don't want to be around me. Instead, I was almost always the last one without a partner for a group project. The last one to be picked when choosing teams in PE. As we got older, I was invited to fewer and fewer birthday parties (and to my knowledge, I was the only one publicly confronted and criticized for limiting the number of people I invited to mine). As a child, I was never anyone's first choice of companion. I was at, or at the very least near, the bottom of the pecking order in my primary—and most of the time, only—peer group. What makes it all the more messy, the one whose words and actions hurt the most is also the one whom I considered my best friend for years. Few want to acknowledge that it's the people closest to us that can cause the most pain, or how such experiences will inevitably affect all similarly close relationships from that point onward.

I remember trying to fit in, to be friendly, to follow the unwritten rules of the group. To be palatable and smooth out every bit of me that garnered a reaction. I felt stifled, so I hid myself. The loneliness hurt. It still does, as here is a major reason I struggle with connecting to people.

I often felt that people only were interested in my company when they wanted something from me.

For much of my formative years, experience taught me that asserting myself as a person with my own wants and ideas brought me ridicule and disdain, particularly from girls and women. That being alone and ignored hurt less than being paid attention to.

I was never beaten, or outright verbally attacked. I was given looks. People would say or do things that at a surface level were friendly, but felt like jokes at my expense, or like I was being poked with a stick to see how I would react. Over time it gradually shifted to people acting like I was not there. Hell, I suffered a concussion once, and not a single classmate present checked in on me during or after the ordeal. (disclaimer: The school nurse said it was likely a mild concussion, but I did hit my head hard enough to black out for a moment, and had a headache for the rest of the day. Funtimes.)

Years after I left it all behind, social settings, particularly unfamiliar ones, are a source of anxiety. Trusting people is difficult; any kind of interpersonal relationships are a struggle to form and maintain. And I am terrified of rejection. I'm much better than I was, but no doubt this is something that will follow me in some capacity to my grave.

'Coeval' is a self-indulgent piece.

I like exploring seemingly conflicting themes and elements. The conjunction of eroticism and horror is one such combination that draws me in, both aspects speaking to a carnal part of a person, and together, they create something intoxicating.

For a myriad of reasons, such themes are not for everyone, I am well aware of that. But for me, and I know this is true for others as well, it brings catharsis I can't find elsewhere.

When I was most lonely and hurt, fiction was my escape from reality. Lighthearted stories lifted my spirits, and dark, messy stories about hurt people healing and finding comfort in each other made me feel less broken. They affirmed hope that no matter how bad it gets, there's a way up, that there will be someone who understands and cares.

At a point, I was introduced to the idea of sexualizing one's trauma, particularly sexual trauma, as a means to cope with and process what has happened. I was fascinated with the idea, but didn't think of it as something applicable to myself. Not until I realized the connection between my childhood experiences and and my fascination with fictitious depictions of women as perpetrators of violence.

For most of my life, my average experience with a boy/man was neutral. I was not on their radar, so they mostly ignored me. But with girls and women, the bad experiences stand out, and genuine friendships have been a rare experience.

I crave for female antagonists. Alas, they awfully often boil down to misogynistic tropes or gender essentialist stereotypes; or they receive only a fraction of the care and nuance male counterparts get. Account in personal tastes in genres and character archetypes, and you're left with a headache.

The idea of a woman's intimacy being dangerous or painful is something that has been sitting in the back of my mind for a long time. Years ago, I drafted a short comic heavily focused on that theme. That snippet of a story never came to fruition, largely due to it being something I was not ready to share, but also because I feared the reception.

I am not a well-known person by any standard, and as such, have evaded targeted malice for my more niche or taboo work. But I've seen the attitudes directed at many others who share and explore the painful parts of their past through fiction. It is not pretty.

Still, I am of the mind that this kind of art has a place. it is not meant for everyone, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't exist.

My piece is about me, and for me. It is merely shared with you. And just as the depiction is violence is a visual stand-in for the emotional and psychological hurt placed on me, the sensual intimacy is a twisted exaggeration of the at times genuine kinship I felt with my peers. It is important.

'Coeval' is about claiming something as mine. I dictate the narrative here, not anyone else. What people choose to see in it is ultimately irrelevant.

'Coeval' is mine. But if it speaks to you, that is good.

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Hironette

Marinette graduated high school at sixteen before moving to San Fransokyo with Luka. With promises from both Kagami and Chloe that they'd join them in a year. Jagged and Penny both helped them find a home that would fit four. Marinette did not think he would buy them a mansion, but she really should've seen it coming. Their neighbors were the Fredericksons. A wealthy family, that Jagged had known for a while. Penny also helped them with the emancipation papers since both were sixteen and seventeen respectively.

She also helped Marinette set up her new shop right next to the Lucky Cat Cafe. The shop was ready and running after only two months, and Marinette had enough workers that she didn't even need to be there everyday. Luka was her main model while he was on breaks from his concerts with Jagged.

Marinette absolutely adored San Fransokyo, the city was beautiful and had so many places filled with creation energy. She also loved her neighbor Fred, his obsession with heros helped inspire her with a few outfits. Her and Fred hung out anytime he wasn't at San Fransokyo Institute of Science. She was surprised to find out he doesn't attend the school but all his friends do.

Fred loved the awesome girl that lived next door to him. He was constantly telling the crew about her, to the point they pretty much demanded to meet the 'angel who's cooking could end a war'.

Fred- Sure thing dudes! If we head out now we can catch her as she closes her shop! Let's roll!

When they arrive they are all confused on why they are at the Lucky Cat Cafe. Fred just snorts before entering the shop next to the cafe. Loudly announcing himself causing Marinette to leave the back room excitedly.

Hiro's eyes widened as he stepped behind Wasabi panicking to himself.

Hiro-No, no, no! I am not ready to talk to her yet!? Oh my god what do I do!?

Baymax- Your heartbeat is rising to a worrying level, and your temperature is getting higher. Should I set up a doctor appointment?

Hiro- What? No! Baymax I’m fine! I just well, I may have a tiny crush on the girl in there and I am panicking a little.

Baymax- Accessing the internet about crushes. After a brief search, I have determined that the best solution to your predicament is to tell the female your feelings and ask her on a date. Statistics have shown a fifty percent chance that she’ll say yes.

hiro-What-no! Baymax just stop!

Honey, Go Go, and Wasabi stare at Hiro and Baymax for a bit before beginning to laugh silently to themselves.

Honey places her hands on Hiro's shoulders pushing him towards MDC Boutique. She pushes him when he starts panicking again, telling him to just be himself. Marinette slimes brightly at them as they walk in, Fred introduces everyone. MArinette is immediately taken by Baymax when he gently grabs her hand, bandaging a few cuts she from sewing earlier. She gushes over him before turning to Hiro asking all about his primary functions. Hiro stutters at first before launching into a long explanation about Baymax functions and how he was made. By the time he is finished Jagged Stone is already waiting outside for her. Marinette blinks in surprise before inviting them all over for dinner.

Wasabi- We’d love to but we barely fit in my car on the way here.

Marinette-Oh you don’t have to worry about it! My Uncle is waiting for me outside, we can all ride with him!

Wasabi- What do you mean ride with him-is THAT A LIMO!?

Marinette laughed ushering them out before locking the store up. The driver opened the door greeting Marinette politely. She gets in and soon the others follow everyone but Fred, marinette, and Baymax staring at Jagged Stone in shock.

Go Go-Jagged Stone is your Uncle?

Marinette- Well not really but he kind of unofficially adopted me as his niece and it stuck. Jagged meet my new friends!

Jagged- Rock on! Anyone friends with my rockstar niece is welcome around me!

The ride is filled with laughter and jokes until they arrive at the Mansion. Luka and Penny waiting on the steps for them. Once out of the car Marinette gives Lukas a big hug, causing Hiro to frown thinking Marinette was already dating someone.

Penny and Luka greeted them happily before inviting them inside saying dinner was almost done. Marinette introduced everyone and then showed them around the manson. She stopped at their main hangout area allowing everyone to spread out. It was Honey that asked them if Marinette and Luka were dating causing them to both start laughing.

Luka- I love Marinette and her song is so beautiful. However she is not the one for me you see because I assure you everyday I am gay.

Marinette hit him with a pillow laughing telling him to stop rhyming. Before turning to them smiling and saying that they only think of each other as siblings. This piece of information lifts Hiro’s spirits and he begins talking even more to Marinette, unaware of Luka’s knowing smile aimed at him.

Over the next few weeks Marinette spends more and more time with the group. Even going over to the Institute of Science on her off days to see their experiments. Along with visiting the cafe on her lunch breaks and after she has closed.

Her and Hiro grow closer and closer, however neither can find it in them to admit their crush, which exasperates their friends to no end. That is until Marinette and Luka are involved in a terrible car accident on the way back from one of Luka’s concerts. 

A drunk driver blew a red light slamming into the side of their limo causing it to roll twice and land on its roof. 

Their driver is only knocked out on impact with a broken wrist. Marinette and Luka are not as lucky they did not have seatbelts on in the back of the limo. In the end they were violently thrown around the back. Luka comes out of it with a broken leg, left arm and nose sling with a broken rib that pierced his lung. Marinette breaks her leg in three places, three ribs and dislocates her left shoulder. Both of them are covered in bruises and bleeding. 

They are rushed to the hospital and into surgery, while in surgery the Doctors do their best to fix their major injuries before working to pull all the broken glass out of their skin. It was in the surgery that they discovered Marinette had suffered from a spinal injury as well. Jagged and Penny have them put in the same room together, but they don’t wake up the next day, in fact they don’t wake up a week later.

After a few days the Doctor determined that both of them had entered a coma, because of how badly they were injured. Everyone was heartbroken when the Doctor explained that if the two did wake up they may not even remember themselves. Then he tells them of Marinette’s spinal injury, telling them that until she wakes up they wont know if she’ll ever be able to walk again.

They remain in a coma for two months being visited everyday by their friends and family. Hiro visits consistently every day with Baymax always sitting by Marinette’s bed. After a week he begins talking or reading to her, after Baymax says that there are a few reports of people being able to hear what's going on around them the entire time. At one point he confesses his feelings to her begging her to wake up so that he can find out if she feels the same.

Luka wakes up first extremely confused. The only thing missing from his memory is the night the crash happened. Everyone is ecstatic and greets him with hugs and tears explaining what happened. After a few days he begins physical therapy, during one of his sessions Hiro is with Marinette again. This time he is telling her how he felt for her and how he would purposely walk past her boutique before they met just to see her. He holds her hand gently telling her again that he loves her. He is greatly surprised when MArinette’s hand squeezes back weakly. When he looks up at her she is smiling weakly, her eyes barely opened as she responds her voice breaking slightly.

Marinette- I love you too…

Her wake up is met with more tears especially when she realizes she can’t feel her legs. A month later they are released from the hospital both leaving in a wheelchair but only one remaining in it. MArinette is heartbroken and drops into a depressive state for a while, but Hiro refuses to leave her side. He is over every day always sitting by her while drawing up designs for a new invention, something to help Marinette feel independent once again.

Hiro creates a motorized wheelchair that can lift Marinette higher when she needs to grab something. He creates a neural transmitter that is fitted as a headband, with the headband Marinette can move the wheelchair in whatever dissection she needs. He immediately begins building it, with the help of the others. He finishes it a month later and gives it to Marinette smiling nervously. When Marinette moves in her wheelchair she begins crying and thanking him. She begins leaving the house with him more slowly leaving her depressive state. A year after they start dating Marinette introduces the entire group to the Kwami. Tikki absolutely adores them, given that they are all creation souls. Plagg warms up to both Hiro and Fred loving their loud personalities.

Fred goes crazy when he realizes that Marinette was THE Ladybug. Causing Marinette and Tikki to giggle until she points out that Luka was Viperion causing Fred to freak out more.

Luka- I wonder if he is going to react the same to Chloe and Kagami.

This caused Marinette to snort laughing hard, causing the others to join soon after.

Fred- Is seriously no one else totally stoked to find out they are heroes?!

Go Go- Fred you idiot! We were heroes too!?

Fred- Oh ya I forgot, this is still really awesome though! Like when I found out my dad was a hero!!

Marinette- Mr. Fredrickson is a hero?? Huh, I never saw that coming.

@justafanwarrior

[ogamagirl]

WELL friendos, it looks like it’s gonna be a stressful week. I did a little think last night to de-stress myself, so I figured I’d share it here with y’all as well; maybe it’ll be fun for you to look at too.

It's been a while since I've documented The Plush Hoard, so I went through it this evening!

A few notes before we begin!

-Before the "but where do YOU sleep" comments come in - I move them around when I sleep lol. The vast majority of my plushies are up on my top bunk nowadays (which u purposefully cannot see because after I was done taking pictures I just started tossing em up there and didn't feel like making them look nice jskdhgf;;; ) - I only keep my very favorites with me. Every time I blog about my plushies I get that comment and it's not funny anymore ;; -I am not a collector that keeps my plushies on shelves or behind glass cases; one of the primary reasons I love collecting plushies is because I love soft textures, so I love hugging and cuddling with them. So some of them are pretty beat up at this point! I also have a cat and if you have a cat, you know cat hair Everywhere is just a fact of life, so if you happen to see any...sorry! I cannot possibly de-cat-hair my entire apartment at all times. -I am not a photographer and my bedroom has crappy lighting, so these pictures aren't ~the prettiest~; the point of this is for me to just have some fun talking about one of my hobbies! -I have cultivated this collection over years and years and years; as I said, it's one of my hobbies, and it just brings me joy!

That said, THIS GON BE A LONG POST LMFAO, so if you're on board, hop under the read more and we'll get started uvu

We shall start with the non-weeb plushies skdjfhldfg, which is the smallest cohort |D;;; of special note are the baby penguin from Sunshine City Aquarium in Ikebukuro, the moose my parents got for me in Alaska, the big doofy red panda my college roommates got me for my birthday one year, and the dragon. THE DRAGON IS WEIGHTED. The dragon is delightful oh my god all plushies should be weighted;;; 

Ghibli plushies! I got the vast majority of these while I was physically in Japan - the only two that I didn't were the foxsquirrel and the Totoro on top of it. The soot sprite I got at the Ghibli Museum itself uvu 

Digimon plushies! I wish there were more decently sized Digimon plushies TAT;; (I like bigger plushies because they are easier to hug ok) The Culumon and Viximon (? I think I'm remembering that name right: Renamon's in-training form, the yellow fox blob sdjfgdfg) are bootlegs I am very sorry ;;; My Digimon Plush Goal is to somehow find an official Culumon someday TAT;;; I rlly like Culumon there was a period of time in elementary school where I drew nothing but Culumon so lol. 

Random fandom plushies! Lessee, what's represented here...Sanrio, Hamtaro, Madoka, Heartcatch Precure, Higurashi, OneShot, Made in Abyss, Re:Zero, Undertale, and Deltarune! Ralsei's hat and glasses obviously come off...I, full disclosure, do not know where they are. They are probably under my bed somewhere sjkdfghsdg;;;; 

OK HERE WE GO: most of my plushies are Pokemon plushies. What can I say...they're just so much fun to collect TAT;;; first up are a couple groups of miscellaneous babbies; you will soon see I like collecting some Pokes over others... 

Miscellaneous babbies part two! See the lil Riolu? When I lived with my parents still, that Riolu was Joji's favorite plushie to steal |D;; she would semi-regularly come into my room and take plushies from me, but that one she took far more often than any other. She's such a small dog no damage was ever done, but still...Joji these are mine, not yours! 

Miscellaneous babbies part three! This was originally meant to be legendary/mythical Pokes but then I remembered Raboot and Galarian Ponyta and was like "OH NO I HAVE TO INCLUDE THEM" I am not very good at this jsdhfglsjfdg 

'pixs! (and two Ninetales) I have a very vivid memory of watching the first episode Vulpix appeared in in the anime and wanting a plushie of one so bad, but alas they were certainly not readily available to me yet, so I carried around a Simba plushie I had that evening pretending it was a Vulpix xD so if little me could see my Vulpix collection now she'd be very happy!! 

'vees! ...I like me an Eevee, what can I say. There's actually one Eevee that's missing from this pic - I told you I'm not very good at this |D;;; 

...oh there were TWO Eevees missing and I stuck them in this pic lol I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I TOOK PICTURES OF HOORAY anyway, Eeveelutions! I obviously favor certain evolutions over others |3 Eventually I would like to get at least one Espeon, Glaceon and Leafeon, just to say I have them all. But there is one more Eeveelution that I couldn't fit here... 

...cause she BIG. My life-sized Sylveon takes the prize of biggest plushie I own. She hangs out at the foot of my bed uvu (also her ears are top heavy/don't have any wires in them so they've clearly flopped backwards...but she cute any way you slice it TAT) 

THE PIKAS. ...Somehow I thought I had more Pikas than this. (Oh wait, I DO...they're just coming later cause they're in a special category |3 ) this is still a good amount of Pikas! Detective Pika is extraordinarily soft he's very good TAT;;; also two Raichu cause I don't have enough Raichu to take a separate pic of. 

Mimis! I have a couple other Mimis that are also in the special category coming up hehe. Big Mimi was stuck in customs for a month after I got him so I'm glad he made it home eventually TAT;;; 

HERE WE GO I have...a lot of Litten. Litten is my baby. Best Poke-kitty for me. I love my Litten TAT///// 

PICHU PICHU PICHUUUU!!! My ultimate baby TAT///// Pichu so good...so happy to have so many Pichu...aaaa///// but wait, there are Absol here too?? Well, yes, of course. For I am a Pichu and my love is an Absol. So. I had to take pictures of the plushies together uvu 

Some Large Friends that got their own picture. That rolly Charizard was the first thing I ever won from a crane game; I was ridiculously proud of myself |D;;; 

SPECIAL CATEGORY: Halloween Pokes!!!! The PokeCen always has an Extremely Good Halloween campaign and it makes me angry...they're all so good...TAT//////// 

Aaand! Best for last!! SE plushies T//u//T The middle two Souls are very beat up, ahaha....I've had the smaller one for over a decade and the bigger one for almost a decade, so...they've gotten a lot of love//// (plus it is also funny to tease Soul - u know I'd give u a hug over the plushies any day baaaaaabe u3u) I really want to get Liz, Patty, and Tsubaki too, but Tsubaki is SUPER hard to find and I don't want to get Liz and Patty and not her TAT;;; there are also Excalibur plushies...............but I think I'm ok without an Excalibur plushie sjdkfghsdfg OH also not pictured; I do have a plush Shinigami glove |D

So! There it is! The hoard! If I were a dragon this would be my treasure hoard! It was nice to go through this so if you went through it with me I hope you had fun too!

[aislingeu]

hello!! i’m kq ( aka kelsey quinn! ) i’m twenty five, livin in the est, usin she / her pronouns!! much like the good buddy who turned me on to this rp, i don’t know a ton about percy jackson!! but mythology was one of the few subjects that held my attention in school, so i hoe i have a good handle on it! :D for now, i manage a comic book store from thursdays - sundays, so i’m scarce those times but i’m usually on discord!!

⟨ ABIGAIL COWEN. CIS FEMALE. SHE / HER ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, AISLING DUNN is actually a descendant of H Y P N O S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old PAINTING MAJOR from DUBLIN, IRELAND has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite CLEVER & COARSE.

this got way longer than i intended im so sorry... 

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

she was born on march 12th, 1997 to a pair of irish musicians ( conor and dierdre dunn ) and, unwittingly, one greek god ( hypnos ) in dublin, ireland. her parents met and married shortly after her conception and neither of them suspected that conor wasn’t aisling’s father, until she was claimed.

as an only child, her parents didn’t have much to compare her too in terms of overall strangeness. for years, they wrote off her abilities as kids just sayin’ the darndest things. they remained blissfully unaware of the impact of their daughter’s words, rolling their eyes fondly, when she told them about the man in the cave, who came to her in dreams. they smiled and laughed, when she strangers at the supermarket that she thought erwin was a fine name to give a teddy bear, no matter what anyone else said. how were they to know that she was unearthing the fond childhood memories that passersby had almost forgotten? 

when she enrolled in primary school, they realized that she was... strange, if not special. she was recognized as a bit of a space case, often staring at nothing in particular, while her teacher droned on. her worksheets were seldom turned in complete. instead, aisling began gifting poorly drawn family portraits on the blank sides of her papers, likenesses plucked from the memories she explored when her mind wandered, in class.

eventually, after her skill had developed and people stopped writing off the stick figures as ‘coincidentally accurate’, people began to truly take notice. they speculated that she was a medium, silently communing with the dead and painting their pictures as she did. how else could she know what her art teacher’s late father looked like? and what color tie he always liked to wear? she had to be a psychic. recipients of her art were always so focused on their perception of the little girl with the gift of sight that they hardly even realized what she had tweaked, brightening up their darkest memories, just so they wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. she hardly even realized, herself.

without a reason to believe otherwise, she told the man in her dreams that she was a psychic, but he knew differently. he told her that that wasn’t so. she was special, yes, but not in the ways that the world thought her to be. hypnos let her in on the secret he’d been keeping for the past twelve years and, just like that, aisling could make sense of herself. once she knew the truth, she chased sleep. she spent as much time as she could, communicating with the one person who understood who she was. he saw her hunger for belonging and pointed her in the direction of the camp nearest to her hometown.

after a summer away, she came home faced with a challenge in morality that she’d never considered, as a child. she came home to a world where she could no longer fit. her party tricks had lost their luster the moment she realized that true value of a memory, however sad, was worth far more than the cheap smiles that her alterations had afforded. with that realization, her art took a darker turn. unable to shift the memories she saw into the light, they haunted her. she now saw their fears and heartbreaks for what they were: unchangeable. and, now, they lived within her, too. putting them to paper was the only way to get them out. but, pieces like those weren’t the kind that could be sent home to mom and dad. pieces like those were the kind that got her meetings with guidance counselors and haunted, fleeting looks from those whose memories she’d never meant to disturb. after a year of that, aisling went back to camp, full time.

once she was a year round resident of the camp, she found herself more comfortable around people who understood; there was nothing she had to hide, among those who were like her. each one of them was fighting an uphill battle of their own. they didn’t have to hide it. even if she never allowed herself to get too close, aisling never felt all that far away, at camp.

at eonia, aisling spends most of her days painting, sleeping, or working. raised by a pair of mortal musicians, finding a job at fireside records felt like a natural progression. where her godly parent thrives in silence, she finds her comfort in noise. it’s easier to block out the things she doesn’t need to see when there’s something immediate for her to focus on. at the other end of that spectrum, aisling finds her mind most open in visual arts club, trying to keep her other creative skills sharp, while she keeps her primary focus on painting. in search of inspiration, her mind reaches out in tendrils, dipping into another’s until she finds something she can work with. she only needs to leave the room before they’ve realized what she’s borrowed. 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

aisling is a naturally empathetic person, always wishing she could do more to help those around her. unfortunately, she knows that she can’t always honor that instinct. her abilities and self-imposed limitations have left her with a hardened exterior that isn’t easy to break through. those who pass through her walls see a softer side: a steadfast friend, always there to put a peaceful end to their sleepless nights or calm their worst nightmares, with a gentle run of her fingers through their hair. but sometimes, she’ll wall herself away from even those she’s closest to after she finds herself in the middle of a particularly harrowing memory. because of this, maintaining close bonds for long is a difficult thing. given her propensity for accidentally rifling through the fondest and most fearsome parts of peoples’ pasts, she’s been known cut them out of her life when she sees something that she has the urge to alter.

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

MEMORY RETRIEVAL — for as long as she could remember, aisling knew things that she shouldn’t. at first, her parents just dismissed her gift as imagination and observation combining in a perfect, creepy storm. it wasn’t until she started attending school, picked up her finger paints, and started to draw out moments from the pasts of strangers that people started to truly take notice. sloppy scenes from the librarian’s wedding day graduated into well sketched portraits of her bus driver’s dalmatians. she liked to take those happy moments, immortalize them in art, and hand them off to the owners of the memories. she liked to make people smile. sometimes, she took that a step further. too young to see the value in sadness, aisling would tweak the memories that were harder to bear; even if she couldn’t bring someone happiness in the present, she hoped she could bring them comfort in the future. it wasn’t until she was claimed that aisling saw the flaws in her intervention. it wasn’t until she was taught the consequences that she knew she had to stop. although the memories came to her unbidden, they didn’t belong to her and she had no right to change them. instead of focusing on the alteration of memories, aisling opted to try to learn how to shut them out. like her other powers, though, there’s a direct correlation between her emotional state and her ability to keep a wall up. when she’s feeling something strongly or hasn’t gotten enough sleep, she sees things that she doesn’t mean to.

HYPNOKINESIS — you are getting very sleepy… what proved to be a fun tool at sleepovers had more practical applications than aisling knew possible. the skill of inducing sleep was easy enough to come by and influencing dreams was as simple as altering memories. and while ( without intending to ) she’d been known to cause visions when tensions ran high, refining those visions into ones that took the shapes she wanted them to took practice. even more difficult than that was learning to astral project, but that became a necessity, coming hand-in-hand with building her mental walls. when the uninvited memories start to weigh on her, she’s learned that it’s best to remove herself from the immediate vicinity. even if she’s only technically leaving in her head. 

OTHER ABILITIES — ( levitation ) a skill she only possesses in sleep, predominantly when her dreams are eliciting strong emotions. ( seeing the gods in dreams ) this is how she formed and maintained a relationship with her father, despite her parents being unaware of their daughter’s godly lineage. on occasion, she’ll encounter gods that she’s less familiar with and, in most of those cases, she’s been known to force herself awake.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

there are so many cool, fun things runnin through my brain right now!! i think it would be lovely for her to have forged a friendship with an insomniac or maybe someone prone to nightmares that she could help! and those fun customer service relationships with record store regulars!! or maybe a former friend or significant other, who aisling left behind? maybe even altering their memory slightly, if the parting of ways was ugly! who knows! the possibilities are endless!! and i’m always up to hearing other peoples’ ideas because the Sweet Lord knows i am not the most imaginative person in any given room!!!

thank u for reading ilu!!! 

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Things Dobson mocks because he is too ignorant...

One “talent” Dobson seems to have, is the ability to alienate a lot of people through his opinions. And while he claims to be proud of that talent because he believes those he alienates are just assholes and racists who disagree with him CAUSE he attacks their abhorrent worldviews, the reality is much simpler; On average, people just don’t like him cause Dobson has no idea what he is talking about, which won’t however stop him from mocking the mere existence of certain things/interests and the people enjoying them. And those people tend not to be racists who want to see non-white people go extinct, but simply nerds and enthusiasts who like to enjoy their hobbies without the input of someone who won’t get over how he was bullied as a nerd back in school, but at the same time will bully you for being “nerdier”.

I could go into more detail how I mean that by analyzing a lot of his anime related SYAC strips as well as his soapbox strips on comic culture in a row. However, for the sake of “simplicity” I just like to go over one of his oldest strips, published around 2011. Back when Dobson was portraying himself still as a human. This strip alone will show how even a decade back, Dobson could just be an asshole to any “nerd” who dared to be into stuff he wasn’t, how he could manage to piss off many people all in one going AND be unfunny.

Now the first thing I want to put out is that I do not even think that Dobson’s primary intention with this strip was to mock others and their interests. See, one thing about So you are a cartoonist especially in its early days was, that it was in a way Dobson’s attempt to make himself look likeable in the eyes of others. He portrayed himself just as an Average Joe, wanting to make comics. This strip itself was even part of a series of strips I like to call “Things Dobson likes/dislikes”, which really were just him in each panel pointing at something he is into or not.

 And honestly, part of me does not mind it. It is just Dobson’s attempt to show others how “quirky” or contrarian he is. The problem really steams more from the following two facts: a) It is not really a cartoon or comic if you think about it, because there isn’t a joke, punchline or story attached to them, just Dobson showing off what kind of person he is and b) that his “things I do not understand” comic is really mean spirited compared to the others if you look just a bit deeper into it.

Right from the beginning the strip is just indicative that this will be more mean spirited than Dobson will later like to claim it was. Otherwise he would not feel the need to say “chillax” as a sort of semi defense mechanism, cause if he really intended to make his grievances heard through “good fun” he would not need to say that. So from the gate we can assume its snarkier and more hurtful than it needs to be. So lets get through the things he does not understand, shall we?

Sports: I will admit that I am not really into sports myself, neither as a fan or someone participating in it competitively. I go to the gym however in order to feel good about myself and do something for my health instead of going every Friday to McDonalds. In addition, as long as you do not go overboard with being a fan or participating in it, I understand how sport can unite people (see events like the Olympics and Soccer worldcups) , and while I am baffled upon the fact that the salary of many people in sports (particularly soccer and football) are ridiculous high in addition to money they make with advertisement deals etc. I have respect for them. Respect for how they can stick to a hard training schedule, can take injuries, will do stuff for charity etc. Furthermore, unlike Dobson, I do not believe people who are into sports are dumb. Yes, I know the stereotype about college footballers and sports who only graduated because of their sports activities and are otherwise “meatheads”, but that stereotype does not apply to everything in reality, Dobson. Ever heard of NFL lineman Duvernay-Tardif, who also has a degree as a surgeon? Granted, he made that title only in 2018, seven years after the comic was made, so look a bit further and see what we find… Oh, look: Myron Rolle, college football player and later members of the Tennessee Titans and Pittsburgh Steelers around 2010/12: Has a bachelor degree in exercise science and in 2008 studied for a Master of science for medical anthropology in the UK.

Ron Mix, famous AFL and NFL football player forever immortalized in the Hall of Fame has a Juris Doctor Degree and after his work as a sports became an attorney.

 And that are just three examples googled up in relation to American football. Other famous sports worldwide have degrees in medical and sports related sciences. Heck, one of Europe’s most famous boxer’s in the 2000s, Vitali Klitschko, not only has a doctors degree in sports, he is nowadays head of the governing party of Ukraine, following the independence of the country in 2014.

So stop wiggling your three sets of eyebrows and cease your smug grin and shove that periodic table up your ass, Dobson. I bet you yourself don’t even fucking know the chemical symbol for silver or titanium you Agonizing Twat who never got over the fact some popular kids in school bullied him.

 Final Fantasy: I doubt Dobson ever even tried to play Final Fantasy or ANY JRPG, honestly. Heck, not only does Cloud look pretty wrong (anime hair seems to be another thing Dobson can not draw) but frankly, the statement of Cloud being an emo is false and is based on misinterpretation. Bear with me for a bit; Final Fantasy 7 is in my opinion a good game and it had a major impact on the series and the perception of JRPGs in the west. However, I do also believe that many people overhyped its quality over the years. Including SquareEnix themselves, who particularly around 2005 released all sorts of tie in and sequel games, including also the movie “Advent Children”. Or as I like to call those things, Tetsuya Nomura’s wankfest, because now all of sudden everything is related to some guy called Genesis, we have even more characters to supposedly care about than we already got through the original game, happy end override happens almost on every corner and “goth” aesthetics are everywhere. And Cloud himself became an embodiment of that emo/loner stereotype in anime and manga around that time, despite never having been like that in the original game if you ask me. Yes, Cloud in the original game went through a lot of emotional trauma and he was not like some happy go lucky laid back shonen manga protagonist. But he also didn’t come off as a pretentious fucktard who never showed emotions and shut himself off from his friends and allies. He was more of a determined person who still cared for others and wanted to stop Sephirot so no one suffered like he did. His most “depressing” moment was when Sephirot revealed his false memories, making Cloud question his own existence as an independent being to the point he was broken enough to hand the Meteor sphere to Sephirot, but that was about it.  But hey, “emos” sell better, so SquareEnix tried to sell that aesthetics and others were just so dumb and further misinterpreted it as emoness being Cloud’s main character trait, when in reality freaking Squall Leonhard in his original game was worse than Cloud in comparison.

I also find the implication of Dobson, that Final Fantasy is pretentious in that panel funny as fuck. Cause Final Fantasy 13s’ pretty dumb story and wankery of clicheed anime tropes not withstanding, the average Final Fantasy game has a straightforward fantasy plot of good guys vs bad guys, with some twists and anime tropes thrown into the mix. The most pretentious guys in those games really are just the bad guys when they talk on average about how the world is suffering and misery, and even that is just straightforward nihilism to justify why they want to destroy everything. It is in fact so straightforward, most little kids will get it particularly in the first 6 games of the series, which are just set in more “classic” fantasy worlds to begin with. I am not saying the Final Fantasy franchise as a whole is flawless (I really am not a fan of 13 and its sequels, but if you like it, you do your thing) but you do not need a thesaurus to get why people enjoy it or individual games from it. So stop hating on an entire game series, which btw has actually some pretty awesome female characters in protagonistic roles in it too.

 Twilight: Both an example of Dobson’s hypocricy and idiocy. Idiocy cause frankly, what is hard to understand why people liked the books? Twilight (in my opinion) was just a professionally published self insert fanfiction, in which Bella/the reader fell in love with the local bad boy who just happened to also be a vampire. Sure, a vampire in name only (seriously, if you asked me, the Cullens could be replaced with a lot of other fantasy creatures and it would barely affect anything), but that is beside the point. Shameless romance stories about someone falling in love with the bad boy who deep down has a heart of gold and just needs someone to fix them, are nothing new. So I was not surprised that people, particularly teenaged girls and other women, enjoyed it. It was the romance literature equivalent to fast food which just happened to explode in popularity because Young adult novels were a simultaneous hit and something needed to fill the void after Harry Potter. I read the first book myself and I thought nothing in particularly wrong with it, aside of the fact I thought the book itself was plotwise kinda dull. But that was not why people bought it, they wanted Bella getting together with the bad boy. The fact Dobson did not understand on what the popularity was build up on, is just an example for how Dobson does not even in theory understand how stories work and what it is on a pure technical level that makes them interesting and sell worthy to others.

As for the hypocritical aspect, that comes up nowadays when Dobson claims he feels bad for mocking Twilight all those years ago and how people were bad for making fun of it and Stephenie Meyer. That those who did it were like women hating assholes and still are if they do not apologize. Cause frankly, I feel a majority of people “apologizing” are just dishonest with themselves now. Apologizing primarily because in the eyes of some other people they look up to, if they do not they will be pariahs. Especially when extend of their initial childish disdain for Twilight becomes clear. I e.g. do not hate Lindsay Ellis aka the former Nostalgia Chick, but the fact she made a big apology video on Meyer was laughable when you see how she “stood” to her opinion back in the day to the point she wrote a novel to mock the kind of story Twilight did. Sure, she admitted to a lot of her own faults back in the day so there was also some self reflection to it and I respect that. But I think in a way this was also a tactic to just appease some other people and it does not take away that initially she had those thoughts about Twilight. And frankly, Twilight is problematic in a way.

Again, I read the first book and I did not consider it the worst thing in the world, just kinda dull for my taste. However, having read on a lot of things that happen in the book series itself, it is clear that Bella and Edward are some pretty horrid and selfish characters who barely get called out or face consequences for terrible actions. Take also into account the pacing of the story and you get on average a book series that deserved a certain amount of criticism from a technical point of view and Meyer’s at least being questioned about some of her decisions in the writing process. It did however not deserve book burnings or people mocking and harassing fans and the author, the former being mocked by Dobson here funnily enough.

 Transformers: And what is it you find weird about people caring for cars? This is not even me being a cars fan here or something, I just ask because even that “explanation” is no explanation at all. He is just saying “I don’t care for X because I also do not care much for Y”. The correlation between the two is missing.

As for why people care about those two things Dobson, perhaps it is for the following:

Cars because people like the aesthetics, the technics, like to build stuff or get a rush by driving them. Transformers, because people just like action as well as the lore to the franchise and think giant robots turning into vehicles is cool, as long as Michael Bay is not involved in creating a story.

Furries: As with cars, likely aesthetics. Anthropomorphic animals have been part of our culture even long before cartoons (just look at fables, fairy tales and legends all across the world involving animals) so I assume there is even something more subconsciously involved with it. And frankly, I like furries myself. Some of them are way better artists than Dobson could ever be. That said, I do as an individual draw a line at furries that harass other people and show creators, hurt animals or are combining their interests with some really weird sex fetishes (two words: diaper fur). Which I guess do many other people cause there is a healthy amount of furries and non furries who have standards. The thing is just Dobson seems to think all furries are the same. Not to forget that for a long time he did everything denying he was interested in furries, citing his college as a reason for it cause people there installed a hatred for furries into him. A wonder then he would even enjoy Looney Tunes anymore. And honestly, himof all people mocking people for having a “sick” fetish? I am sorry Dobson, but compared to the kind of inflation you drew, I would say the average furry (as in someone who just draws two adult fursonas making out with each other under consent) is less “disturbing” than you. Someone who did not just inflate the female, at times underaged victims, but also made them pop/killed them.

DnD: I wish I had the comment Dobson posted on deviantart under the comic, as in it he digged himself even deeper with every panel and the explanations he gave. Just to show I am not pulling it out of my ass when I say for DnD one of the main reasons he hated it was that he thought nerds made the fantasy genre even nerdier by adding math to it.

Oh no. The fact people have to add numbers from a couple of dices together is too high of a math concept for Dobson. So those people must have absolutely no lives and are all just fat, bald and with acne.

Seriously though, fuck off. I am not into table top gaming, but whoever is, they shall just have fun. And stop body shaming nerds with the way you draw the DnD player here (and in that other infamous DnD comic he did), especially when you yourself look like a shaved egg in real life. Heck, did you know of all people Vin Diesel enjoys DnD?

Just let the people enjoy their adventure campaigns and come together once in a while instead of being shut offs like you, whose only experience with an interactive fantasy story involves playing Skyrim at 10 fps.

And yes, I am aware that Dobson has changed his opinions on DnD now thanks to some podcast. But based on his record, I feel that Dobson only did join it because it is now the cool thing to care on average about DnD as nerd. In addition he also did not own up to his past “mistake” till people just called him out on his bullshit often enough.

Klingons: Okay, I am not much of a Trekkie myself, but again, I get that people just like the aesthetics of them and the story crafted around Klingon culture within the franchise. So, just let them have fun with it. What is even the “joke” here? That people enjoy it despite it “just” being black Asian barbaric samurai in space, which is a very simplistic, in my opinion even outright racist description based on the choice of words here? Frankly, I am glad he did not just also add a racist Japanese accent to the guy here.

So there you have it: Things Dobson does not understand and essentially mocks for existing. And don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with Dobson not “getting” those things. Everyone has their own tastes, likes and dislikes as well as reasons why they are into it or not. I e.g. understand that people enjoy Bob’s Burger, but I myself really do not like the show much, because most characters come off as annoying to me in terms of personality and quirks. That said, I understand the visual appeal to it, if you like it that is fine and if you ass why I don’t like it I will give an explanation to it. What I will not do is make a comic mocking the existence of it, imply that my disinterest is correlated to me thinking there is also something inherently wrong with you if you enjoy it and build my disinterest on none existing issues with the thing in question.

Dobson however seems to have done that quite a couple of times and combined with his self righteous nature, it becomes kinda obvious why people began hating his stuff to the point that almost all of 4chan and tumblr developed a stern disdain for him.

[rainyjellyfishmagazine]

My Mom Died

When i was young, or at least younger than i am now, i used to read stories of people that had lost one or both of their parents, and i always wondered how world was like for them. What do they think when someone mentions something like; "Wow, i spent a fantastic weekend with my parents" or "I went shopping with my mom and look what i got" or "My dad taught me how to drive", or even how they react to relatable memes, when they are not so relatable to them.

Unlike the majority of people who wonder these things, i actually got to experience it. But for me it isn't a story of loosing a best friend, a guardian, a role model, it's about freedom. Free from a dictator, free from the paranoia and the anxiety.

My mom wasn't born an abuser, and she definitely didn't switch into one when she had me. We as a society view abusive and toxic people as if their bad qualities are innate, when oftentimes that's far from the truth. My mom was an amazing woman and i will be the first to admit it. After all, she taught me many things, by being an example of what to avoid becoming, i learned so much. She was independent when she was young, she left her home country to seek higher education in another nation, the USSR. A country of which she didn't know the language, didn't share the same political views and definitely didn't like the weather. But she did it anyway, and when she was done, she searched for a job even further; Finland, Australia, Italy to name a few.

She then decided to get married and have a baby, me. When i was born she fell in love with me. She loved me, she really did. In fact, she loved me too much, that's what made her toxic. She decided to leave her job to raise me, to leave her friends to spend more time with me, she essentially self mutilated her mental sanity because that's what she taught was best for us. But the truth is you cannot be happy talking to small kid all day, every day for years and still be healthy. That was her biggest mistake and My biggest lesson.

I have a lot of memories of her when i was really small; we used to sit together on the couch and watch tv, we would eat chocolate together while doing it, or sometimes ice cream. She taught me how to draw, i distinctly remember us being in the kitchen cooking pasta and her teaching me how to draw hearts with faces, she even got me an easel to paint. We also used to bake cakes together or when i was really young, we used to play with my barbies on the living room floor. These are the happiest memories i have and sadly enough, i think i count them on the fingers of one hand. Even these, that in my heart are filled with nostalgia, the more i delve into them, the more i find issues. She was so indifferent and bored when we played with the barbies, she was annoyed while we were cooking and drawing heart-faced people, she didn't really let me eat much of her ice cream or chocolate because they were hers.

But those were the years that i still loved her. She was my hero, my everything, i loved her so much. And she used it against me, to punish me. She would yell at me for everything and anything, by no means was i a saint but i was a very easy child growing up. Anyway, when i would apparently do something wrong her number one tactic was to insult herself, if for example i hadn't done my homework on time she would go on and on on how she was a terrible mother and she has done an awful job at raising me, that alone would kill me. I was crying and apologizing for making her so sad, i would promise her that i would change to not make her feel that way. One other time we were supposed to go to a festival but i decided to draw with my markers and a got a little color on my hands. When she saw this she was furious that i ruined the day and we didn't go to the festival. For so many years she made me feel that i was causing her so much pain, so much sadness and i would hope to disappear. I have cried my self to sleep countless of nights hoping that i wouldn't bring her so much sadness, that i would disappear and in my place she could have i kid that made her happy...

Silent treatment was usual, she would just ignore me for days, she would withhold love from me, she wouldn't hug me or kiss me or talk to me, she would refuse to wake me up in the morning, or tuck me to sleep or take care of me. She would even lock me outside and not let me in... I was maybe 7 at the time, and i felt abandoned and helpless. And the worst thing of all, i felt guilty for causing her so much distress. I had to walk on eggshells to make her happy, but whatever i tried it wasn't enough, i was never enough. She was a bomb ready to explode.

This wasn't her only tactic though, she threatened me as often as she could, that she would hit me so much i would have bruises everywhere. Because according to her that's the only way i would learn, and that she has tried everything, to explain to me what i had done wrong and apparently this was the only way I would learn. She used to slap me in the face here and there, but nothing major to consider it physical abuse. She would threaten to lock me in the basement, which she often did. She would threaten throw away my toys, that i was very protective of. She would basically threaten to take away everything that i had interest in, it used to be toys, then tv, then my smartphone and wifi... This caused me so much anxiety over the years that when i was in kindergarten, i used to hoard all the dolls.

As the years went by she searched for every little thing that she could punish me for. Our house had rules, one of them was that everything and i mean EVERYTHING had to be in order. To give you a perfect example, she once forbade me to play with my toys and tablet and watch tv for a week because one of my shoes wasn't in a 90 degree angle to the wall and was 80 instead. Another time, i wasn't allowed to watch tv for a week because, i would come from school 10 minutes before her (she was a teacher) and while i was waiting for her i would turn the tv on. Apparently i was obsessed with tv and i needed to be punished for it. My "obsession" also resulted in another punishment i remember. Every night we would watch a series on the tv together and then go to sleep. Many of the episodes were on repeat so i liked to read the episode's description to determine if i should watch it or not. This called for extreme measures and she changed the wifi passwords and didn't give them to me for 1 month. Once when she told me to call her on 6.30 and i called her on 6.37, she came to pick me up from my friends' house and didn't let me go out for 3 weeks. But to conclude, she searched for every little thing to punish me for. She would literally ask me a mind puzzle but if i answered wrong she would take something i loved away. She used to say to my French teacher "I'll catch her, i'll catch her doing something wrong, and then she'll see". She was this desperate to punish me.

When i was a kid i really loved her and hated my self for hurting her, but as i got older i realized that maybe it wasn't my fault. Maybe i wasn't the culprit. Maybe it wasn't me after all. But she would continue to scream and yell, bang the doors and the cupboards in rage and call me and herself names. Maybe i was right, maybe it wasn't my fault that we used to fight, only she would fight as it wasn't my place to "talk back", TWICE a week minimum. Maybe it wasn't my fault that she always spoke of the negatives anyone had, i don't know one person that she hadn't insulted behind their back. I was right, i knew i was right when she complimented me for not fighting for a week or when in a fit if rage she told me that sometimes she wished that she hadn't had me. Her words cut deep into my flesh. One moment it would be "Baby you are so beautiful and so smart i love you so much" and the other it would be "You are so useless and stupid, you will never achieve anything in your life you lazy bitch".

I didn't wanna spend time with her anymore, but she demanded to be loved. She demanded me hug her and kiss her and tell her i loved her, when she would ignore me for days. I felt very conflicted to do it, i hated it but i knew that i would face harder consequences if i didn't do it. There are pictures of us hugging each other and the only thing i was thinking at that time was to touch her as little as possible. I still had to hug her and kiss her even when she said vile things to me. To compensate and to keep at least a strip of my sanity i started thinking vile things too. I couldn't handle it any more, i was loosing hair from my anxiety and i wished she was dead. I used to think it was the only way out, it was either her, or me, and i didn't know which i preferred. I used to say it when i was angry and i would take it back almost as soon as i said it, because i loved her. As the years went by, it would take longer for me to take it back, soon the reason for reconsidering changed. I tried to justify her being alive so that we -and i- would have more money, i tried to to weigh the advantages and disadvantages to show myself that i_need_her and i need to be patient one more day/week/year and i would move out. At my lowest point i stopped being remorseful of wishing for her to die. I welcomed it, i was imagining it constantly, how much better my life would be, how much better everyone's lives would be. But these things happen to other people, not me. Or so i thought.

The day came, she was a teacher at the primary school and she was to accompany the eldest kids close to graduation to the closest middle school, where i was at, for them to gage at the school and talk to the teachers. Everyone in our town with little kids knew her. She passed out in the middle school's playground, i didn't see it but everyone else did. The ambulance came and took her, my dad picked me up and drove me home. I thought they would give her some supplements and send her home. But that of course didn't happen. When they told me it was serious i thought that this is what i had been dreaming, even if she didn't die maybe the shock of what had happened would change my life even for a little time. As the days went by and she wasn't getting any better i was apprehensive, this was really it. I would be free.

They unplugged her in a week, they said it was a brain hemorrhage. Everyone knew of her, but no one knew her true colors. I was the talking subject of the year, only to be pitied.

When something like that happens, its like you want to sit down and think, how it affects you, how life will be, but you can't. Everything is moving, people go on with their lives and time passes so slow and yet so fast. For the first time in my life i felt calm and not on the edge, a weight lifted off of my chest. I wasn't on the edge, i didn't feel paranoid, i felt... relaxed. But no one else did, i was blind to the truth, everyone else seemed to love her and mourn her. I realized it that summer when i went on vacation to my aunt's place. She said that my mom was always so calm and composed and never yelled or caused a scene. I knew a bomb ready to go off when everyone else saw a saint. That week i started having nightmares, nightmares i still have today. The kind that leave you terrified to go back to sleep. I saw that she was alive. Only her thought tormented me. But to everyone else i was a sorry little orphan that lost her mommy. I still haven't really told my dad what she put me through when she was alive. In a way i refuse to let her hurt others like the way she hurt me, especially since she's dead.

I no longer remember her voice. I no longer remember her face, or her hair, her glasses. I have to look the photos to remember. But she taught me the real lessons.

Do not nag for no reason.

Do not try to find the negatives in people.

Do not push the people you love away from you.

Do not take everything as personal offense.

Life is short Do Not Waste It

[indianpolsoc]

The Perception of Language and its Political Implications

The following is an opinion piece by guest writer Arman Hasan and does not reflect the views of the Indian Political Society. Arman is a first -year student studying Political Science at Ramjas College, Delhi University.

Sometimes memories emerge in your mind even when you are engaged in the most mundane activities. They have no structure or meaning, they are just glimpses from your past. For me, one of these is from my childhood, of a day when I was just staring at an illuminated manuscript of Persian calligraphy framed by my mother on the wall of our living room. Following some unknown inspiration, I decided to copy the calligraphy on a piece of paper. I ran to show my mother what I had achieved, and she responded enthusiastically, telling me how proud she felt. I could not comprehend why she felt so proud of me for merely copying down a text, a text that neither she nor I understood.

At the time, I could not make sense of this, and till this day, have never had a Eureka moment revealing to me the nature of that event. However, with every repetition of this piece of unstructured past in my mind, more and more depth began surrounding it.

I belong to a family of linguists and poets, so the privilege of learning the beauty of Persian, Arabic & Urdu was present in the meritocracy around me. Yet, when I see myself now, inept at speaking any one of these, it makes me introspect about the conscious decisions I took which deprived me of this privilege and the societal influences which shaped these decisions.

I remember my first day of primary school, with all the children bright with excitement and energy, waiting for their names to be called out by the teacher for a roll check. I was any other kid in uniform, with no way of distinguishing me from others, and yet when the teacher called out my full name - Arman Hasan- I could sense an ambiance of demarcation among the other children. A kid wearing the same uniform as the others was now somehow different. After some days had passed and I had finally made friends, one of them confessed a peculiar thing which confused my five-year-old self, "Arman, why don't you look like a Muslim?". I don't remember whether I responded to the query as I couldn't really comprehend what it meant, but it did sow the seed for future dilemmas I would face. As the years have passed, I've repeatedly been asked that same question, and each time the answer has kept evolving.

What others perceived of me began shaping how I perceived myself. There emerged a vehement need to distance myself from this perception- to do so my opinions about my language, culture and religion took the form of aversion. The second time I was asked this question by another one of my classmates sometime in middle school, I couldn’t stay silent. I had to show that I was different and not what they thought of me. I replied, "I am not like other Muslims, my family is very modern." The identity which others had prescribed to Muslims began shaping my opinions about my own community.

In school, I found myself developing an identity that my peers could relate more to. The Hindi dialect spoken at home was similar to Awadhi and was quite distinguishable from the Hindi spoken around Delhi. The word for 'Me' in Awadhi is 'Hamm,' but using that at school would bring mockery. So, I restricted the use of such phrases there. I thought I was successfully able to separate the two paradigms, but as time went by my vocabulary limited itself to what was taught formally at school.

Another subtle change that was occurring simultaneously was the shift in my opinions. I began mocking my mother for using 'Hamm' and became guilty of compromise, which I masqueraded as change.

Soon, my interest in Persian, Arabic, and Urdu began dwindling. Over the years, I've used different rationales to justify this- to be truly 'modern,' it was necessary to be fluent in English. English and Hindi were already taught at school, but to be even more modern, I opted for German as a third language. To be able to say 'Wie heißt du?' was a step towards modernity. Eurocentrism was being indoctrinated in my mind. My diminishing interest in Persian, Urdu & Arabic was inevitably due to structural problems as well- the popular Delhi school I attended didn't teach these languages, and so the belief that they are not modern or profitable became entrenched.

I tried many ways to rationalize my apathy towards the memory of me copying the Persian calligraphy. I began associating my mother’s happiness that day to her thinking that I was being religious. Modern society had established the notion that these languages are religion-centric, an identity I didn't want to confine myself to. Ironically, I later learnt that neither Persian nor Urdu are holy languages, and yet the association was made subconsciously. I was influenced to such an extent that as a kid, I used to argue with my relatives who knew no other language than Urdu, insisting that learning Urdu was useless, patronizing their entire existence.

In my search of identity within modernity, there was a dissonance in terms of the culture I was brought up with and the one which I strove to adopt. By merely learning my name, my peers could not unsee my Muslim identity, yet within my familial circles, I wasn't Muslim enough.  Not knowing the Ramayana led to me being differentiated while not keeping a beard led to the questioning of my beliefs. Why was society not content with my synthetization of the two?

Reading Hannah Arendt's 'Origins of Totalitarianism,' gave me some insight as to why I felt this way. She gives a detailed analysis of the psychology of middle-class Jews in 18th century Europe who wanted to be seen outside of their Jewish identity for want of not being confined to the prejudices of Anti-Semites. But regardless of their struggle, society did not see them without ingrained Anti-Semitism while the Jewish community didn’t see them as Jewish enough. This paradox became the primary causality behind their dissonance.

I could finally see how a single question asked again and again over many years caused so much moral dilemma, shaped opinions, and formed subconscious hierarchies of religion, culture, and language. It took some time to realize the nature of the causality behind all this.

Media and Pop Culture play a major role in enforcing stereotypes and prejudices against minorities. Portrayals of minorities in their designated roles are successful both in creating prejudices and ghettoizing their communities.  To see a Muslim outside of stereotypical clothing is for the person not to be Muslim anymore. Affiliation with Islamic languages cannot be classified as modern.

The base of my beliefs was shaped by stereotypes and prejudices and deconstructing such problematic associations became my primary task. I had to tell myself that language does not exist in a binary. To learn English, I did not have to give up Persian, Arabic or Urdu. Speaking these languages doesn’t make me any less progressive and the duty to define progress is up to me, not to how the society wanted me to perceive it.

I remember the last time I was asked the question, "Why don't you look like a Muslim?". After years of contempt and guilt brewing under the influence of this question, I finally took my time to carefully explain why the monolithic image of Islam was the one which the media wanted to portray, while being ignorant to the complexities and diversities which exist within the community, thus exacerbating the age-old stereotypes stemming from propaganda and hatred. The standardization of languages which had been coerced on me by society finally had to be dismantled. I realized that language and orthodoxy were highly political entities but separate from each other. Approval should not be a reason for me to sacrifice the experience of being mystified by richness of such languages.

As I recalled that vague memory slowly over a few years, acquiring some structure, I finally asked my mother why she felt so happy for me that day, receiving an answer I could not have anticipated. She felt pleased neither for society nor for our religion. She felt happy because she believed that I was privileged to have my forefather’s creativity in my possession, and not knowing what my father and forefathers wrote just because it was in a language I didn't understand would have truly been a tragedy. Over the years, society had made her conform and had shaped her views for which she often felt guilty as well. But I had an opportunity to transcend that guilt. For me, choosing to learn one language did not have to mean giving up the other. My act of noting down a single illuminated manuscript made her hope that the binary which society had reinforced, the prejudices it had exacerbated and the precarity it had caused could slowly but surely, be taken apart.

[johnnyprofane1]

How to Get Diagnosed #ActuallyAutistic in Just 26 Years

First off, this is not a poor-me story.This is a journey to #AutisticJoy story…

I’m a singer/songwriter, pretend Rock Star with a decent following… after at least 5 other careers.

I’m also #ActuallyAutistic. Or my fave hashtag… #AutisticAF.

Two most frequent private-message questions I get?

Not about lyrics, my guitar playing, or even my mohawk…

1. Could I be autistic?

2. Should I get a diagnosis?

Well, here’s my way-long, way-detailed, way genuinely autistic answer…

I was born in 1953. Long before autism or Asperger’s were widely discussed in medicine or popular culture. More or less, just beginning in the 70s.

At least by 1957, at 4, I knew I was “different.” Family and neighbor kids told me so.

A lot.

In kindergarten, a teacher reported I was unusually creative, but “stayed to myself.” After 2nd grade intelligence testing, I was tagged “gifted.”

But my behavior was “odd.” Solitary. Formal in speech, a know-it-all. “Insensitive to context,” liked talking and playing in class. “Inattentive” to lessons.

I had one close friend at a time… In fact, only one I remember in all of primary school. In 4th & 5th grade. Jeff.

Wonder what he’s been up to the last 56 years…

My intelligence: uneven. My reading skills were off the chart, but verbal learning, most of education at the time, was difficult for me. Math tested high, but I was so impulsive on quizzes, I needed remedial classes.

Tests were a silly game to me. It was fun to be the first-one-done. I couldn’t have cared less about grades. I’m a process-, not results-oriented guy.

And most glaring? I was disliked, even hated, by schoolmates, cousins, perhaps even parents.

I was a target for mockery, hate speech, bullying, physical and sexual attack, and later molestation. And universal disappointment: “You’re not living up to your potential.”

A history of dozens of jobs, dozens of relocations, lost years in a cult, lost years in badly matched relationships…

And honestly? A history of causing great pain to others. Inadvertently perhaps, but not always. Then circling back to the couple of decades in what most would label a “cult…”

Something was just not right with this picture.

I first sought diagnosis at 17 following suicide attempt #1 in 1970. The experience was horrific.

I felt badgered by the therapist, “I know you have a secret you want to tell me.” I wanted so badly to please her. But had no idea what I was feeling, much less why.

As still happens under great stress, I temporarily lost language ability. I became mute. Which has several times been interpreted as “resistance,” “guardedness,” or even “passive aggression” by “helping” professionals.

I didn’t try therapy again until my first year in grad school, 1980. The psychiatrist summarily dismissed me without a plan when I didn’t respond to imipramine (an anti-depressant)– possibly I pissed him off. I seem to have a talent for stepping on therapist toes.

But in 1991, I entered the mental health system and essentially never left. Every new psychiatrist, psychologist, therapeutic social worker confidently diagnosed me… with something entirely different.

Between 1991 and 2016, I was diagnosed with adjustment disorder, major depression, type II Bipolarity, rapid cycling bipolarity, malingering, borderline personality disorder, dissociative disorder NOS (including discussion of multiplicity), PTSD….

There have been additional discussions of various anxiety disorders (especially social anxiety), attention deficit, schizophrenia, TIAs, stroke damage…

Pretty sure I’m leaving a few out.

With each new diagnosis, each and every professional confidently told me he or she had nailed it.

This time…

And they could help.

I was medicated accordingly with imipramine, Prozac and all the modern SSRIs, Welbutrin, Effexor, Lithium, depakote, tegretol, gabapentin, klonapin, lorazepam, respirdal, the occasional syringe of haldol, provigil and other narcolepsy drugs, sleep aids, supplements like fish oil, more I’ve forgotten….

And offered suggestions of Abilify, Seroquel, other anti-psychotics, electro-shock (ECT)…

As well as therapies including Jungian, supportive, interpersonal, analytical, psychodynamic, cognitive, task-centered, solution focused, dialectical behavior, cognitive behavioral…

I was myself a counselor from 2001 to 2011. Strange, but true.

Not one of these interventions helped me materially.

Not one.

And I experienced some very concerning side effects: tics, emotional numbness, difficulty thinking, feeling like a stranger in a strange mind. I totally gave up on treatment and medication in 2011. Bouts of suicidality ensued.

A very few friends and one wife threw the term autistic around over the years, but I never followed up. It seemed so unlikely. I was so bright. So articulate. Even somewhat successful… for a few months at a time.

And without conscious awareness, I had become adept at hiding the fact I was actually dysfunctional… perhaps the majority of the time.

Plus, I could pass for “normal” by masking… when not under stress. I learned by junior high to practice my favorite classmates’ neurotypical behavior in the bathroom mirror. Hide stimming, meltdowns, panic attacks, the total autistic burnouts lasting sometimes months, years…

In 2011, the intimacy of the most successful relationship of my life forced me to look inwardly as deeply as I could in order to avoid losing my third wife. (We are still together, deeply in love, but live in separate houses a few hundred feet apart. She needs breaks from my intensity. I find even her company exhausting after a few hours.)

My now-third wife had a family member with “high-functioning” autism, what we used to call Asperger’s (and what we now call, simply, autism). Watching this young boy negotiate his world was like watching myself in a magnifying mirror.

We had so many behaviors in common. Mine were just somewhat better disguised. With my wife’s encouragement in 2012, I began reading articles, books, online forums…

In 2016, when we separated briefly, I finally re-entered therapy. This time, I contacted various experts in adult autism through Indiana University’s Indiana Institute For Disabilities Community (IIDC).

Bingo.

Every symptom…Explained.

Every “flaw” in my character… traced back to this pervasive developmental diagnosis.

I am making progress in a kind of task-oriented counseling. Working on strategies to accommodate characteristics that just ain’t gonna change…

But the key gifts that external, credible diagnosis gave me:

Accepting I really am different, with very different needs from neurotypical folks.

Providing for those needs, as I discovered them. For instance, understanding my “special interests” are not hobbies. They are central to my survival. My job.

Reducing stimulation, sensory & social. Accepting I will have few intimate relationships in my life and becoming cautious about “friendships,” only those few folks who take the long, long journey to know and like me. After a lifetime naively assuming each new stranger was a new friend, my motto became, “Don’t like me? Don’t hang.”

Spending unashamed time… alone. I have a radical need for autonomy, while simultaneous difficulty managing independence when any other human is present. As much as I crave intimacy, I must manage my time with humans. Say less than 5 minutes with a stranger before anxiety or panic sets in, maybe 2 hours with my wife. Which brings me to…

Over the last few years, I’ve not only experienced reduction in anxiety, depression, suicidality, dissociation, night terrors, meltdowns, panic… I’ve come to realize my natural state.

Finding love. My neurotypical wife and I respect, admire, encourage, and desire one another. Pretty much a first for me.

Autistic joy.

Not disease…

Joy.

When I’m creating words or music, walking alone in Nature, watering my garden, cooking, fermenting pickles, making bread, decorating, yard sale-ing, reading, loving my pets, meditating, even shaving…

I’m in the flow.

There is no time. There is no space. No surroundings. No memory. No pain. Just lizard-warming-in-the-sun…

Joy.

Everything that restricts that joy? Gotta go. Good riddance…

So, diagnosis?

Yeah.

That’s my story.

And this time, I’m sticking to it.

[angelcatsiel]

I reblogged an ask game thing the other day but no one sent any asks so I just fuckin answered them all because I was bored and I am learning to not give a fuck what anyone thinks of me and it was fun

1. What is your favorite childhood story of yourself?

This is a hard one. I want to think of a funny one but my childhood wasn’t great. My dad has told me that when I was a toddler, before I can remember, he used to play AC/DC and I used to put clothes pegs in my hair for some unknown reason, stand on the sofa and violently headbang.

2. What is the stupidest way you have ever gotten hurt?

When I was about 11, I was swinging on a swing in the garden, and got curious about what would happen if I put my hands right at the very bottom of the chains while I was swinging. The answer was that I fell off backwards and hit my head. I went in to my dad crying, calmed down, and went back on the swing again. I tried to work out what exactly I had done to cause myself to fall off. I remember thinking, I think I held the chains near the bottom like this... and tested the theory, and fell off again, and hit my head again.

This is one of many stupid injuries. Other considerations were the time I climbed up a slide and hit my head on the bar at the top and knocked myself out, or the time I got kicked by a horse in a field and grabbed onto the electric fence to hold myself up.

3. What was the first PG-13 movie you watched?

Literally no idea.

4. What was the first R rated movie you watched?

I think it may have been the first Deadpool? Haven’t seen that many tbh

5. When was the moment you felt most badass?

When I was about 8, I was at the park with my brother, and this much older kid (maybe about 16 or 17, hardly a kid) with an aggressive dog stole my brother’s ice cream money. I marched up to him and demanded he give it back. He let his dog off the lead and it sniffed around my ankles and growled, and he told me it would bite me if I ran. I stood there and stared him down for a good 20 seconds or so before he called back the dog and walked away. I didn’t get the money back.

6. What is a band you can reliably always love?

Marillion. Favourite band, always.

7. What is your favorite form of self expression?

Probably singing even though I’m very bad at it.

8. What is something from your childhood you wish you still had?

My stuffed rabbit Hoppy. I haven’t been able to find him in several years. Can’t think about it too hard or I’ll cry.

9. Where is your favorite place on earth?

The Isle of Wight. My dad used to take me and my brother there for holidays every few years. It’s beautiful and full of memories, the most precious memories being the time we saved up vouchers in the newspaper to go the year after my dad left his abusive wife and ended up homeless. We were so poor but with the vouchers we could just afford to go, and it was the first time I saw my dad happy in a long time.

10. What is the longest friendship you have ever had?

My best friend @van-helsa124 who I have known since literally nursery and I love her so much.

11. Is there anyone is your life you wish you had met sooner than you did?

Maybe my friend Luce who I only met a couple of years ago, but we’ve grown close pretty quick.

12. Do you believe in ghosts?

Yep definitely. Pretty sure I was visited by my gran after she died and I’ve had a few creepy experiences.

13. What is the coldest water you have ever swam in?

No idea tbh, I don’t swim much

14. How old were you when you learned how to swim?

Maybe 8 or 9? I had lessons in primary school.

15.  What song do you listen to when you’re sad?

Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift. It’s my cry song.

16. Are you an adrenaline junky?

Yep! Love roller coasters and stuff like that, and would love to do something extreme like jump out of a plane or something.

17. What is a song that takes you back to childhood?

I have a few but the main ones are probably Man on the Moon by REM, and You Were Right by Badly Drawn Boy.

18. What is your favorite word?

Not sure I have one. For some reason the only one coming to mind is a place not too far from where my family live called Biggleswade, and I have to say it every time we drive past because I love saying it. I also love saying tiddies at every opportunity.

19. What is your least favorite word?

Don’t think I have a least favourite either, the usual infamous ones (e.g. moist) don’t really bother me.

20. What scent reminds you of childhood?

Cherryade. I drank some several years ago and the smell before I tasted it transported me immediately back to my childhood and a memory I’d completely forgotten, which was my gran constantly buying me a shit ton of cherryade every time I stayed over her house.

21. Were you sad when you found out clouds weren’t like pillows, or did you never think that?

I don’t think I was sad, I think I was just curious and interested to learn, and I tried to come up with new interesting ways of describing the feeling of clouds in my head, since even as a kid I loved to write.

22. When in life did you laugh the hardest?

A few times come to mind and they all involve @van-helsa124. A lot would make absolutely no sense, no matter how much I tried to explain. They’re now ‘friendship memes’. The only one that might be explainable is the first time we ever got drunk, to celebrate achieving ultimate friendship, after we found out that her mum had believed me and her were in a relationship for a year and a half. We even created our own drink, named the year and a half, which was literally just a mix of vodka, koppaberg, rose wine and cloudy lemonade. Tasted better than it sounds. Got me drunk in about 0.5 seconds. Ended the night hugging her trash can trying not to throw up while she read me a destiel fanfic to take my mind off feeling sick

23. What makes you laugh when you don’t feel like laughing?

Old yogscast videos.

24. Do you come from a big family?

Fairly big, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins.

25. What is your favorite part of yourself?

My positivity and the inner strength that I have, that helps me find happiness and courage even when my mental health is low.

26. What is the worst pain you have ever felt?

Trigeminal neuralgia pain (facial nerve pain). Spent 90% of January this year constantly crying and even screaming in pain. Hospital couldn’t do anything for me. I get occasional flare ups now but nothing that severe, but it’s probably going to come back. Feels like someone trying to rip out my cheekbone and jawbone or like someone is literally drilling into the bones in my face, and that’s the milder part. Every so often that pain is interrupted by stabs of sharper pain like electric shocks which have caused me to collapse to the floor screaming. 0/10 do not recommend

27. Do you swear often?

Not super often out loud but very often in my head.

28. Do you get confused for being older or younger than you are?

People always assume I’m younger than I am. I get asked for ID for everything.

29. What is your favorite way to eat a potato?

Probably roast potatoes, but they’ve gotta be done right. Soft inside, crispy outside, and obviously with herbs and spices.

30. What is the best compliment you have ever received?

Honestly no idea.

31. Describe yourself in 6 words?

Slightly unstable yet somehow happy weirdo

32. What is the worst insult you have ever received?

Can’t think of any major insults either lmao no one talks to me apparently

33. Have you ever taken in any media that changed your life?

The Good Place and Supernatural. With supernatural it wasn’t the actual show so much as the friendships it made me and the confidence and happiness the conventions gave me, at a time when my mental health was at its worst, although the show helped massively too. Idc if it’s cringey, it kept me alive. The Good Place changed my entire worldview and actually made me less afraid of death.

34. Have you ever collected anything?

My model horses! I have at least 10 at this point

35. Strangest thing you have ever broken?

As in bones or objects? Can’t think of any objects and the only time I ever broke a bone was when I broke my toe at like 12:01am on new year’s day when I got up to pour myself another drink and tripped over the table

36. Weirdest food you have ever eaten?

I’m not that adventurous with food so nothing that weird

37. Childhood nickname?

My dad would call me Flo. Not sure why.

38. Most people you have shared a bed with in a non sexual manner?

Two. Shared a bed with my best friend and my other friend Josh, once at a convention, once at Josh’s birthday. Birthday one is a bit blurry as I was drunk but at the convention I got to be in the middle and spooned Josh while my best friend spooned me and it was very cosy

39. What is something that makes you fall asleep?

The Marillion song Angelina, or this one ASMR video that’s supposed to be the sound of being in the Impala with the Winchesters. Laugh all you want, I like it.

40. Did your parents ever accidentally lose or forget you?

No but my teacher did once, can’t remember the context, I think she had to drive me and some other girls somewhere for some club event and when we got back to the school she forgot me in the car because I was so quiet lmao

41. If you were a superhero what would your weakness be?

I would be a terrible superhero and have many weaknesses. Loud noises would immediately put me out of action. Someone makes eye contact with me and I disintegrate immediately

42. What food reminds you of home?

Tuna pasta! With this one specific sauce that my mum used to make it with

43. What is your comfort food?

Probably also that tuna pasta. And chocolate. A shit ton of chocolate.

44. Cold room with lots of blankets or hot room with no blankets?

Cold room with lots of blankets, no question.

45. No shoes without socks or no shoes with socks?

No shoes without socks

46. Do you run hot your cold?

I am presuming this means ‘do you run hot or cold’ and the answer is, usually, both simultaneously. My body has no idea what temperature regulation is. Catch me out for a walk in short sleeves in the snow, sweating profusely while violently shivering bc I’m feeling extremely hot internally but my skin is freezing (and yes, I have actually done this). Do I have some sort of legit medical issue? No one knows, least of all my doctors!

47. Favorite condiment?

Probably ketchup. Though I also love garlic dip. Does that count as a condiment?

48. What utensil do you use the most?

Probably my tongs for turning chicken and stuff

49. When are you most comfortable?

Any time I’m home alone, just doing my own thing

50. If you could be really good at one thing, what would it be?

Singing! I would love to be an amazing singer but sadly I am a terrible singer though I do practice every day in the vain hope that maybe my voice will improve. If the neighbours could hear me they would have killed me by now

[mellz117]

Hello all and welcome to part 4 of my playthrough of KH2 on the PS2. If you haven't seen the previous entries please go do that.

[ _1_ ] [ _2_ ] [ _3_ ]

To recap: The Wonders of Twilight Town are boring as hell. We spoke to Namine again, Roxas finally realizes his life this week is a lie and starts to remember his life in the Organization. DiZ is racist against Nobodies but we already knew that. Roxas and Axel fight, I wanted to cry. Roxas meets Sora in his sleeping pod before disappearing, I wanted to cry.

And the adventure continues

I wanna know how Sora wakes up in the real world when Roxas merges with him in the virtual one. How in CoM does Sora go to sleep in Castle Oblivion, the whole-ass chamber and then some get transferred to Twilight Town, Roxas meets him in a virtual version of the mansion, and Sora wakes up in the real mansion in KH2? Nomura please explain this series. Is Final Fantasy ever this convoluted?

Donald and Goofy call out to Sora and we're once again reminded this is a Disney game. I don’t know why but the fact that Disney owns the original Kingdom Hearts characters bothers me. It means, unless DISNEY gives the OK, Sora will never be in Smash Bros. and that makes me sad.

I don't know much about comas but after a year of total inactivity, wouldn't your muscles atrophy like, A BUNCH? At least is wasn’t 7... OR VENTUS WITH A WHOLE DECADE WTF?

Again WHY COULDN'T JIMINY JUST KEEP EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN CHAIN OF MEMORIES WRITTEN DOWN IN HIS JOURNAL INSTEAD OF A CRYPTIC MEMO TO THANK NAMINE?

The trinity trio wanders out of the mansion, loot some chests, and find their way to the back alleys of town.

Hayner is rude RIGHT outta the gate, wow. Ok I remember that Pence actually met Roxas in Days, and so to me he seems to recognize Sora through his memories of Roxas despite the two sharing like, one visual similarly: blue eyes. But KH3 to my understanding reveals that the virtual versions of characters affect the real version so I dunno!! WHAT IS THIS SERIES?

"Have you finished the summer homework yet?" Olette asks Sora and his two ANIMAL COMPANIONS as if seeing two anthropomorphic animals is fucking normal in a town comprised entirely of humans and exactly one moogle.

Sora doesn't have any homework. For over a year he's been away from home and his mom couldn't make him go to school. I wonder how she's doing? Does she miss her son? Kingdom Hearts and parents don't gel.

I like how.. When Pence describes this cloaked figure who was looking for the trinity trio, as having big, round ears, they have to think about who it could possibly be. They’re not too bright.

Why is “sofa” capitalized? Also they weren't even sitting on it, neither of them were!

HAYNER IS A RUDE BOY! He tells us so ask Seifer about the town, as we are new. Bruh, if you’re this rude to us I’m sure how much worse Seifer and his posse are.

Seifer is immediately confrontational. “You here to pick a fight with us?” and Sora’s all like “No, we’re new here.” and DONALD FUCKING DUCK! INSULTS SEIFER AND NOW EVERYONE’S READY TO THROW DOWN! THANKS TO THIS DUMB FUCK DUCK!

But thank Christ big chungus appears out of nowhere and stops the children and two adult furries from causing a scene.

This dude is WAY too into the Struggle tournament. Seifer has an unwanted faaaaan! Bro, go away, you’re creeping on a teenager.

I wanna fight Seifer.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

I'm not working on this like I should be. I'm going on vacation soon and since we're all in quarantine I can't really do anything fun so this is the opportune time to catch up.

Moving on! We make our way to the train station and oh no, we're ambushed by Dusks! Because of COURSE we are. Who could've seen THAT coming? /s

I- I like how, even after hearing his voice, and seeing his fucking mousey silhouette, the gang STILL might not be sure this is their stupid rat king. One brain cell between the three of them, I swear, and Goofy is the primary carrier, and it only sometimes works.

Why do we need to purchase tickets to travel on a magical train embarking to an ethereal plane of existence? I guess it's the principal of it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO HUG THIS BOY. LOOK, HE'S CRYING!

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Pence is so cute. I didn't care much for him when I was younger but he's such a cutie. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO HUG THIS BOY. LOOK, HE'S SAD!

……………………………………………………………………………………………

It's fat cat Pete. For like ever, I had no idea he was a cat. Wonder what Maleficent saw in him to ally with him.

The trinity trio laughing about killing (or at least taking part in killing) Maleficent. "She's toast!" this sure is early 2000's dialogue...

Heartless everywhere! "You mean the worlds aren't at peace after all" well, no sweetie. It takes time for things to recover from horrible events. *looks at current state of the real world*

So like, I had no idea Yen Sid was a Keyblade warrior??? I had read about that in his Wiki page when I googled if any Keyblade warriors were left handed. (Ven might be, but more likely ambidextrous) But I guess being Mickey's teacher would imply his Keyblade wielder roots but whatever, I didn't pay attention when I was a teenager.

Yen Sid's decor is baffling. What are these bookshelves? What are these BOOKS? They're huge!

Good on Yen Sid for using singular “they” pronouns in 2005.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

On to our change of wardrobe. Without a doubt Sora's best look in the whole series, in my humble opinion. Lookit my handsome boy. 

And Sora learns about drive forms, blah, blah, blah, powerful forms, gotta sacrifice something like in Duel Monsters, in this case an ally.

Yen Sid is so boring.

All seriousness and tension is just broken as soon as Goofy’s name is uttered, at least Sora and Donald have normal names wtf.

It’s interesting how like, 15 years later, Union X explains how Maleficent was able to return after her defeat. Something about, as long as someone from your original time remembers you and you have a physical object to represent you you’re able to basically some back from the dead. Right? Am I right on that? I haven’t played it but I’m hanging by a thread on this loop.

Sora’s hard work down the drain...

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Hollow Bastion! And of course there’s trouble. Heartless, Nobodies, and Yuffie, oh my!

A problem sequels have to work around is when the protagonist needs to relearn their abilities. KH does a well and good job with this one. In CoM, it’s a different battle style, in KH2 Sora’s been asleep for a hear prior.

Also, Merlin “leant” Sora some magic spells? How does that work? Like, once you learn it you can’t just... give that knowledge back...?

……………………………………………………………………………………………

How old is Leon? He has no right being this pretty.

Another ambush by Nobodies. Give it a rest, would ya? Battle ensues, Leon deals the final blow against an enemy, and as the camera usually does, zooms in on the victor and we get a nice slow-mo crotch shot of Leon. Thanks, game... Then, Xemnas’s very sexy, very manly voice echoes across town and the organization appears before our protagonists. I’m weak.

Demyx’s laugh, dude. I love it. Sora is ready to throw hands with anyone in his way. Honey, you’re barely out of a magic coma and this dude is like, two whole feet taller than you. Not to mention very fit.

I’m done thirsting over Xemnas...

After a few taunting words, the new villains depart, Donald attempts to give chase somehow? Where you gonna go? They disappeared behind dark corridors. It seems Goofy is still holding onto that shared brain cell.

The Bastard

I like the majority of the Organization. Xigbar is definitely one of my favorites based on this next scene alone. He’s so snarky and full of shit. I love it. He’s great. He was definitely a stoner at some point.

I’m confused though. “He used to give me that same exact look!” the Wiki says Xigbar’s talking about Ven but I always thought he was referring to Roxas? Did Braig and Ven have a history? That’s implied in Days (which released before BbS) IDK dude. I’m surprised I’ve gone this long without spoiling myself too much on BbS. Like, a few story beats here and there but a lot of it isn’t gonna be known until I play it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The dialogue for KH2 was so different from the first game. It dates itself so much in comparison.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Xiggy stands like this for 7 whole seconds parting with a condescending “Be a good boy now!” before disappearing. I love this fucker.

Leon, who’s been sitting on the sidelines this whole time, joins Sora and the others after the real threat is gone. We chitchat for a little bit and say our goodbyes. It’s time to leave this place and move on to one of two available worlds.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

At the Beast's Castle. After fighting a hoard of Shadows, the least intimidating enemy in the series (although the demon tower in kh3 is quite frightening nlg), the Beast himself makes his appearance, takes out the Heartless that suddenly stop multiplying upon his arrival, disgracefully shoves his supposed friends aside, and takes his precious rose to the west wing, which is where it SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. ADAM WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

……………………………………………………………………………………………

No joke one of the funniest actual gags in the whole series is:

*Donald Duck manhandling Cogsworth*

Cut to Sora saying "I'm glad you're OK." to Lumiere

……………………………………………………………………………………………

OK the minigame where you gotta light the magic torches, why do we have to make sure Cogsworth  has enough strength to keep the lever down when we have two perfectly capable companions that can hold it down instead? I remember this sequence being a lot more annoying when I was a teen.

Xaldin's voice makes me feel things. Ahhh he sounds so tired lol. He peaces out and we fight the Beast. I remember getting him to calm down being harder.

"Xaldin used my anger to control me!" Says Beast. He angers very easily so this must have been a cinch. Xaldin's been obsessed with him since Days so I would imagine this intel would come in handy.

More fodder to fight and on to the boss. Phase one is just an angrier version of the Darkball Heartless. Phase two is just skinny Ganon. I like its design though.

“Belle, I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself, being all rude and overall kind of a jackass to you and my servants” Except that’s kinda how you’ve always been lmao. Just because you couldn’t choose not to be an ass here doesn’t change that this IS in character. Still gotta work on that a bit.

“You don’t have to apologize” No, no he still does.

They all reconcile and the Trinity Trio departs until Xaldin shows up again to wreak more havoc.

Time to move on to the next world.

[wlwdjh]

hi. i think i might have some early fibromyalgia but the internet isn't helping me too much. how did you get a diagnosis? how did it feel for you in the beggining? please i need some help i have been struggling with health for a few years but lately its gotten worse and neither my mum (undergraduate in medicine) nor any doctors ive been to know whats going on. Ive been on antidepressants for a while but stopped them. i cant say they helped. do you have any experience you can share?

Hi hun. First I want to preface this by saying I am in no way a medical professional so all I can do is share my experience. I also am located in the United States and have health insurance, which is going to make my experience different than a lot of others. I’m gonna put the rest under a cut just in case anyone has trouble reading about medical issues.

Fibromyalgia is a weird diagnosis, in that it’s a diagnosis by elimination. Before I was diagnosed by a Rheumatologist (a doctor who specializes in diseases of the connective tissue like arthritis) I spent years working with my doctor to figure out the source of my chronic pain. At 19 I was in a car accident and my doctor checked me over and took x-rays, all of which came out completely normal. Slowly over the course of the next few years though my health started to deteriorate.

At first I thought it was only mental. I was having major anxiety, to the point where I couldn’t go to school, and depression severe enough that I couldn’t get out of bed. I was sent to a psychiatrist, who listened to my symptoms for 15 minutes, diagnosed me with a panic disorder, and prescribed me Fluoxetine (Prozac) and sent me on my way.

Here’s the thing with meds - they work, but it’s often a struggle to find the right one. A lesser known symptom of Fibromyalgia is medication sensitivity. While Prozac works wonders for millions of people, it was way to strong for me, and left me feeling like a zombie. So after a few months of this drug, I went back to the same doctor. He maintained his previous diagnosis but switched me to Buspirone, a medication that is used just for the treatment of anxiety. I definitely think that it helped, but it didn’t do anything for my depression or any of my other symptoms.

While I was trying to figure out my mental health I started having more severe chronic pain. I was a dancer from twelve to twenty, and was in the best shape of my life when I started having severe joint and muscle pain. I thought I was just pushing myself too hard honestly, and just tried to slow down on my classes. I went from dancing 8-12 hours a week to not at all.

I also was having issues with memory - I was losing gaps in the day and couldn’t focus on things I used to love like reading. I was also exhausted 24/7.

It’s around this time that I dropped my psychiatrist and went without medical intervention for about a year. I realized at 21 that my depression was getting worse and worse - that summer I spent an entire week in bed, and my best friend had to come and make sure I was eating. I started seeing an MFT, and going through my own journey to mental health.

When I finally (through tons of incredibly hard work) pulled myself out of that hole I stopped being emotionally stoic and started noticing hey, my body is getting worse. My IBS symptoms started around the age of 23, and I lost quite a bit of weight just by not being able to eat anything. I also, through the encouragement of my therapist, started going back to my primary care physician, and he started trying to puzzle it out with me. First we thought the symptoms were depression related, so he put me on Welbutrin (which I still take to this day). It was unlike the other drugs in that taking it actually gave me energy and cleared my mind, rather than fogging it up further. Then he sent me to Physical Therapy. The PT was horrified at the state of my back at this point and put me through 8 weeks of grueling therapy. I would leave in incredible pain every day and then have to go home and do more exercises. While it wasn’t pleasant I can say that it gave me some of the knowledge that I use now in trying to treat my Fibro.

I also went through an elimination diet to try to find my trigger food for my IBS. I had never before in my life shown signs of dairy intolerance and then here at the age of 23 I was developing a rash on my arm any time I tried to eat mac and cheese lol. Cutting that out of my diet made a big difference in my gut health.

This whole time I was doing lots and lots of internet research on my own. I remember coming across an article about Fibromyalgia and its symptoms and how my heart stopped when I read it. I took it with me to my next doctor’s appointment and he admitted that he didn’t know much about the disease but that he could refer me to the doctor who did. In the meantime he put me on Gabapentin for my pain (which just made me feel drunk and dizzy half the time, not my fav).

The first appointment with my Rheumatologist was terrifying. I kept thinking that all my symptoms were just caused by my depression, that I was faking, that here I was about to be laughed out of another doctor’s office as a liar and attention seeker. Instead my doctor sat me down, asked me about my mental illness, my family history, my lifestyle, my diet, how bad my pain was, where it was located, and never once suggested that any of my symptoms were in my head. I went home and cried that night - I had never felt more validated in my life.

Before I could get my diagnosis we had to run some tests. My Rheumatologist had access to all of my results from previous x-rays and tests but had to run some blood tests to rule out anything else. I also underwent a physical test where she checked for trigger points - they’re basically small points on your body that cause intense pain when pressed. Almost all of the points hurt me haha. After a few weeks, at 24, five years after my initial onset of symptoms I had my diagnosis. I was prescribed Cymbalta and told to stop eating gluten, start exercising more, and to take care of myself. That’s the hardest part of this condition for me - the only way to treat it is by living a healthy lifestyle, which is incredibly difficult to do on my own due to my mental health issues.

It’s been a journey for me, and I’m sorry to say that everyone I’ve talked to with Fibro has had a journey as well. It’s just not a condition that doctors are quick to diagnose patients with. I know it can be hard but self advocacy is going to be your best bet towards getting a diagnosis. Remember that even without one your pain is still real.

[natsthinkitythinkthinkthonk]

Format: Interviewer Sakura: [her own words] [...] = Stuff left out * = Context notes

Ayane Sakura is now 25 years old, so this interview was probably taken two years ago!

Wikipedia: Ayane Sakura (佐倉 綾音 Sakura Ayane, born January 29, 1994) is a Japanese voice actress and narrator who is affiliated with I'm Enterprise. Some of her major roles are Natsumi Koshigaya in Non-Non Biyori, Tsubaki Sawabe in Your Lie in April, Iroha Isshiki in Oregairu, Ochaco Uraraka in My Hero Academia, Cocoa Hoto in Is the Order a Rabbit?, Yotsuba Nakano in The Quintessential Quintuplets, and Nao Tomori in Charlotte. She has also performed theme songs and character songs for various series she has appeared in. In 2018, she won the Best Supporting Actress award at the 12th Seiyu Awards. 

For our 5th interview, we have the seiyuu Sakura Ayane-san. A young seiyuu to look out for, Sakura-san not only does voice acting work in popular airing anime such as Juuni Taisen, Ballroom e Youkoso, and Houseki no Kuni but also appears in works of gravure and the front covers of magazines.

While being only 23 years of age, Sakura-san is a young woman whose career is already nearing its 7th year. To start off, we interviewed her about the turning point of her career.

―Debuting as a 16-year-old is quite early, but in reality, you weren’t necessarily thinking of becoming a seiyuu from a young age, correct?

Sakura: The reason I started being a seiyuu was because when I was a middle school student, my voice trainer from the troupe I was a part of (Gekidan Touhai) told me I was better off doing voicework.

―Initially, were you aspiring to become an actress?

Sakura: It wasn’t a very serious dream for me. I’ve been physically weak from a young age, so I was thinking of doing work that would teach me how to comprehensively use my physical ability. In addition to acting, I am able to learn Japanese dance, stretching, sword fighting, voice training, etc. so I joined Touhai.

Also, I’ve always liked seeing the making of movies and anime, so I had an admiration for the world of behind-the-scenes work -- make-up artists, costume designers and producers… Beyond becoming an actress, I was thinking that if I joined a troupe, I would be able to catch a glimpse of those people’s work, and that was also a big part of it.

―Why did you switch to voicework from there?

Sakura: From a middle schooler’s point of view, joining a troupe was a good idea. However, the moment I actually stood up on stage, I thought “Ah, I was wrong.”

―What do you mean by “wrong”?

Sakura: Since I was the type to not want to learn more about myself, I didn’t know what to express. In the troupe, we often did plays similar to études* where they asked us to perform freely. But, I had zero desires to express myself so I couldn’t answer to that. That’s when I first realized that maybe I wasn’t fit for acting.

* Etudes refers to the improvisation that actors do after learning their script.

[...]I think I just had a quality of voice that was a better fit for the microphone. Also, I’m really awful at memorizing the script, but I was relatively good at acting while reading. They probably also had that part in mind when they thought I was more fit for voicework.

―However, despite saying “I’m not fit for acting,” you switched to voicework and quickly got a debut, right?

Sakura: Yes. But that’s also exactly why I was very troubled. I don’t have a clear memory of those days. I still remember taking phone calls when I was starting to regularly work on anime, but my memories of the period before that were foggy.

―About how long was that period?

Sakura: If I remember correctly… about 3 years

―Isn’t that a bit too long for a time you don’t remember much!?

Sakura: I’d say the year I budded into a proper seiyuu was 2013.

―It’s as if you’re talking about yourself like a newborn baby.

Sakura: (laughs) But really, that year was also a big turning point for my career. I clearly remember that an hour before the after-recording session for an anime called “Vividred Operation’s” second episode, my voice wouldn’t come out at all. After going to the hospital, I was diagnosed with this thing called a “vocal nodule.*” I thought I might have had to quit being a seiyuu. After that, it took half a year for me to fully recover, and every time I writhed in pain as I did my job, I started thinking seriously about how I could connect voicework to my next job.

* Vocal nodules are hard, rough, noncancerous growths on your vocal cords. They can be as small as a pinhead or as large as a pea. You get nodules from straining or overusing your voice, especially from singing, yelling, or talking loudly or for a long period of time.

―In other words, 2013 was the year you confronted the risk of losing your seiyuu career and first developed a sense of responsibility as a professional?

Sakura: I started to see everything like how much I grew to love being a seiyuu, and just how much my manager worked hard for my sake. I didn’t really see my manager as a human being before that much.

―”As a human being”...?

Sakura: I debuted as a teenager, so I didn’t really understand the concept of “adults” much back then. I wasn’t one to understand what everyone around me were thinking. However, at that time, by causing trouble for others, I really felt just how much those adults worked hard for my sake. After that, I started seeing my manager as a fellow human being too. That’s when I realized I didn’t have many opportunities in my life thus far to be deeply influenced by other people. I mean, I only made one friend in primary school due to not being in the same circle as those who had many friends, moving from one group to another, transferring schools halfway through my middle school life and having a job. I was unable to be deeply affected by another because I was always lived worrying about what others thought about me. Since my youth was of that nature, I think I couldn’t see others as fellow human beings.

―Following that train of thought, losing your voice was a kind of an “initiation” to become an adult, right?

Sakura: That might be the case. (laughs) That was when I was 19, just about to turn 20. My life truly changed in those 6 months.

―Through that period of turning points when it came to your life and your job, how have you changed?

Sakura: Hmm… I started cherishing others more than myself. (laughs)

―You’ve finally developed human feelings, huh. (laughs)

Sakura: Finally, for the first time after I debuted 4 years ago. (laughs) Also, I started to understand the workings of my company. I started thinking “the manager does this job, and the staff does these jobs, so I have to do this job.”

―So not only did you become a professional, but above all, you also became an adult, yes?

Sakura: Yes, that was also part of it. For instance, I got to broaden my horizons at once by being able to talk to my senpai. 

―Also, with regards to entering this industry, the reason you did was because you were interested in the making of anime and movies, and the fact that you thought of the world of adults as a wall to overcome. Since you’ve now experienced it, can you say that you have achieved your dreams?

Sakura: It’s true that I’ve admired adults since a long time ago. I’ve always wanted to grow up quickly that even now, I feel like I want to become 30 or 40 sooner.

―Sakura-san, you have many opportunities to appear in gravure*, but aren’t you afraid of getting older?

* Gravure refers to photography and videos of female models (or seiyuu in this case) in Japan. It can range from clothed and tame to nude and provocative.

She has her first photobook out! It was released on her 24th birthday.

Sakura: I’m quite excited about it. Besides, I have this habit of thinking about my job in long spans of time and that’s exactly why the younger workers are leaving from the bottom, right? I’m thinking about things like how long I’ll stay in this industry, and what my older self can do.

―But, you’re still 23 years old!

Sakura: I think it’s probably because life after I turned 20, was hard. (laughs) I felt like many happenings in my life were condensed to a shorter time frame and I’ve experienced things many times more than I have in my life before.

I’m not sure whether there should be anything else added, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask! She has won a seiyuu award since then, and her career is really looking up!

[stopforamoment]

PART ONE What Makes a House a Home (1 of 10)

MASTERLIST

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks

Word Count: 2,118

Rating: M for Language

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Series Nine: The Transition

Series summary: This takes place in the beginning of October when the transition to Drake Walker as the security officer is now complete. It’s Bastien’s last day at Valtoria Primary School and the community gets together to say thank you and goodbye to Bastien. This series focuses on Rinda’s place in her community and her feelings about the future. It also focuses on the transition she’s making from widow, teacher, and mother to someone who wants something more with Bastien.

Chapter summary: Rinda’s house is a constant hot mess because her home is the gathering place for the neighborhood kids, but she doesn’t mind because she knows life is too short to sweat the small stuff.

PART ONE What Makes a House a Home (1 of 10)

Rinda’s house was always a disaster--that was no secret. She was barely able to keep up with the basics throughout the week. In the bathroom she tried to wipe the sink and clean the toilet bowl on a regular basis and Swiffer the area around the toilet bowl (Henry’s aim still needed work and half the neighborhood kids used that bathroom because it was too much work for them to walk a block or two to their own house). However, the shower curtain was always kept firmly closed. Open it and be nosy at your own risk. In the kitchen she tried to keep up with dishes, counters, sometimes the the stove, major spills, and the area where they ate their meals (usually half of the table was cluttered with papers—work stuff and important paperwork Rinda wasn’t ready to deal with yet). When they moved to Cordonia they had to leave their Ollie Bollie dog with friends back home, and Rinda quickly realized how much she missed having a dog to clean up the floor spills. Rinda didn’t believe in making the bed every morning because it was a waste of time since they’d just sleep in it again that night, but sheets had to be changed at least once a week, and you made your bed then. Major cleaning like picking up clutter, vacuuming, and washing floors was done on the weekend. Folding laundry too, but it was still the norm for Henry and Rinda to search through the clean clothes basket when they needed something to wear. (So really, folding the majority of your clothes could also be considered a waste of time.) In spite of the weekend cleaning, her house was usually a mess again by Sunday night because kids were in and out all weekend. But she didn’t mind because life was too short. Way too short.

There were occasional incidents. One time Phillip was bouncing a football in the house, even though Rinda repeatedly told him not to. He and Henry were screwing around, and the ball landed in a pot of spaghetti sauce, but the momentum also knocked over the entire pot. The boys suddenly got quiet, knowing they were in big trouble. Bastien was there, and he was more interested in seeing Rinda’s reaction than to be upset with the boys. Rinda quickly turned off the burner, but she needed a moment before saying anything. She didn’t care about the mess but she hated wasting food, and it was a neighborhood meal night so it was A LOT of spaghetti sauce and they were supposed to eat in 10 minutes. She asked Phillip and Henry to check with Mr. Ariti and Mrs. Manikas to see if they had more spaghetti sauce. Then Henry would show Phillip where the cleaning supplies were, and Henry had to help Phillip clean. The stove was still hot, so they’d have to wait until after supper to clean it and yes, it would be harder to clean once the sauce started crusting and drying up on the stove. She would also have some other chores they’d have to do, but she would tell them later that night after she thought about it a bit. But before she went to the pantry to check for more spaghetti sauce she turned to the boys with a grin. “You know if that would have been a baseball it wouldn’t have been so messy, right?” Then Bastien teased Phillip that it was too bad he couldn’t make goals that well. Henry started laughing at Phillip, and Phillip started laughing too. After supper the adults laughed at the incident—it really was funny Phillip had such perfect aim, and it was one of those things that became a memory that everyone laughed about years later. “Remember when Phillip . . .” But what Rinda didn’t realize until the next morning was that there was spaghetti sauce spattered on the ceiling. She sighed. That would have to wait until the weekend. But of course, she never got around to cleaning it because she was too short to reach it, even on a chair. That was just one more thing to add to the deep clean list before she moved. Then there was the clutter. The house was small, so it felt like there was no room for the things they accumulated as the weeks went by. There was a large bin of lost and found items by the door, and kids were often told to check the bin once a week. Usually, however, parents would come and Rinda would welcome them in with a cheerful grin and tell them to poke around. She kept clean clothes in a separate plastic bag. She usually found random things when she was folding laundry, and it was silly for the parents to have to re-wash things, so she always tried to keep clothes clean. Things like shirts, socks, and shoes would be mixed in with the clothes Henry would scrape off his bedroom floor (even though Henry had a laundry hamper in his room) when it was time for Rinda to do laundry. She just threw things in the washer, and she would chuckle at the things she’d find as she folded clothes. She swore the kids must go home naked some days.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg. In her living room there were large sheets of white paper taped on her wall next to a toddler work of art drawn in defiant permanent marker. It was Rinda’s fault. She made the rookie mistake of leaving Sharpies on the kitchen table one day, and the Manikas toddlers found them and used that spot on the wall to express themselves. Rinda couldn’t bear to clean up their artwork. It reminded her of Henry’s toddler scribbles on her walls back home. She and Jameson always meant to reprime and repaint the walls, but when they finally got around to it Henry was older, and Rinda begged to keep a couple of Henry’s better art pieces. Just paint around them. Please. He was growing up so fast. Seeing Owen and Will’s scribbles on her wall reminded her of home, and Mr. Manikas promised to help her wash and paint the walls when it was time for her to move. Then Rinda put up the pieces of paper, and everyone helped remind the boys that they could only draw on the paper with the special markers Mrs. Parks gave them. And not every home had paper on the walls. This was a special treat that was only at Mrs. Parks’ house.

There was random glitter throughout the house and crusty glue stains in the carpet from a group art project. Maddie and Cosima thought it would be fun to make glitter prince and princess crowns in the kitchen one rainy afternoon, so there was glitter everywhere from then on. It was just impossible to get it all cleaned up. That same afternoon Phillip and Henry were in the living room cutting cardboard and gluing pieces together to make swords and shields for all of them. They were on the carpet because Rinda was working at the kitchen table and she had papers spread everywhere. So now there were some bare spots in the carpet where the scissors went through the cardboard and permanent crusty areas in the carpet from the glue spills that just wouldn’t come out. Maybe if she rented a steam cleaner? But just add that to the move out cleaning list. Rinda also made a mental note to see what constituted “wear and tear” in her housing contract.

Then there was the living room clothesline with Ziplock bags of money and a chore list attached to it with clothes pins. She had lists of “above and beyond” chores that needed to be done around the house, and anyone who wanted to do the chore could do it. When it was done to Rinda’s satisfaction, the child could have the money in the Ziplock bag. Mr. Ariti and several other neighbors decided to add their own chores and money to the clothesline. It was just easier to keep the jobs posting in one location, rather than have the neighborhood kids pester everyone when they wanted to earn money. One kid did try to steal a Ziplock bag before doing the chore, but he was turned in by another indignant child. Rinda had a chat with the boy and then let the Lord of the Flies group mentality take care of the rest. It was never a problem after that.

Bastien was a neat and organized person, and in all honesty he was appalled at the pandemonium in Rinda’s house—until he got used to it. Then he couldn’t imagine it being any other way, and the joy in her house made up for the lightening rod of chaos that made her house a home.

Mr. Ariti would just grin as he watched the children race in and out of her house, and he would laugh as Rinda would apologize to him—and everyone else—when they came over. But Mr. Ariti understood. He remembered what it was like to have young kids, and he still welcomed the neighborhood children to play in his yard. Sometimes he’d ask Rinda about a new stain on the floor or dent in the wall and Rinda would sigh, thinking about how much she’d owe for the damage to the house. But Mr. Ariti told her not to worry about it. Just tell him the story of what caused that new mark, because it kept him young to have all the children around. Besides, everyone in the neighborhood would help her fix up the house before she moved. It would be fine. Just keep living life and making this house a home.

What Rinda didn’t know was that Mr. Ariti owned that house. It was his starter home, and he had so many memories of him and his wife trying to raise four children in that shoebox of a house. Being invited to dinners and seeing how her home became a magnet for the neighborhood children made him happier than she would ever know.

When Mr. and Mrs. Ariti were younger that house next door, the one that Mr. Ariti now lived in, was owned by an older couple who were the backbone of the neighborhood at that time. They often helped Mr. and Mrs. Ariti with their kids and reassured them that a messy house was fine. Just enjoy life because kids grow up faster than you realize. Besides, it takes a village to raise a child and just pay it forward. They’d understand one day what that meant. And when that older couple were ready to move into a retirement community they offered to sell Mr. and Mrs. Ariti their home for a very low price, but only if Mr. and Mrs. Ariti agreed to somehow pay it forward. Perhaps they could rent out their smaller home to younger couples who were just getting their start in life.

When Rinda was chosen to come to Valtoria the timing was perfect and really, it was meant to be. It was a last-minute switch to bring Lorinda Parks to Valtoria and the person in charge of housing for the new teacher was in a panic. But Mr. Ariti heard that there was a teacher exchange program starting. The previous family who lived in Mr. Ariti’s starter home bought their own house and were preparing to move out, and even though it would be cutting it close, Mr. Ariti could have his starter home available to rent. But then Mr. Ariti heard the new teacher was a widow with a son. It was just the two of them, and he knew she would be at Valtoria Primary School, where so many of the neighborhood children went to school. It could be a perfect fit, and Mr. Ariti offered to donate the use of his house for the semester, with the condition that he remain anonymous. Even the families in the neighborhood didn’t know who actually owned that home. They just knew it was always rented out to young couples. When Mr. Ariti met Rinda and saw how much she added to their neighborhood community he couldn’t be happier. Well, unless they stayed in Cordonia for more than a semester.

Mr. Ariti always reassured Rinda when she worried about the condition of the house. Trust me, Rinda. You don’t have to worry about the condition of the house when it is time for you and Henry to move. Just keep living life and making this house a home.

[azarice]

Life Regrets

I have many regrets in life. Some include crossing my eyes during an eye examination and ending up with a prescription of -2.25 for my originally 20-20 vision. And at 11 years old, when Michael Cunningham asked me to “go out with” him, and I thought he meant going somewhere together – and I replied with “I’ll ask my mum, but I have piano on Wednesdays.” But perhaps my greatest regret in life was choosing to become an author. In hindsight, perhaps the recommendation of my Year 6 teacher after she heard some of my plot ideas for a writing competition may not have been the wisest of motivators. Spoiler, I didn’t win. I wonder why nine consecutive ‘sound’s, instead of eight, for ‘language and grammar’ and ten, not nine, ‘limited’s for ‘comprehension and reading’, didn’t open my eyes to the truth. The harsh reality that, although my mind is likely one of the most creative, innovative minds of all time, my ability to write cohesively, to convey my ideas engagingly to the reader, is more comparable to a dog trying to catch its own tail.

 Occasionally, rarely, I produce a piece resembling acceptable to my poor editor, but for the majority of my time at Klefter Editorial, my recycling bin can be found overflowing with messy, crossed out drafts. Seeing all those rejected drafts reminded me of my dear friend John Keats, whom I studied back in high school. Keats, the self-pitying Romanticist, whose works were only recognised half a century after his death. In a hundred years, maybe someone will find all those scrunched-up drafts and declare my creative mind the ‘next Shakespeare’ and force thousands of science-minded students to read and analyse them until their eyes hurt. Although, that may not be the case anymore since I bought a paper shredder a few weeks ago.

 In an attempt to refresh my stale mind, I sat outside the café down the road, a hot flat white in hand, watching people pass by and trying to imagine each and every one of their current dilemmas. The middle-aged man wearing a blue cap, maybe he’s concerned that the cause of his marriage’s decline is his recent hair loss. That primary school child, probably worried about whether he’ll get home in time for a TV show. I looked back down at the creamy cup, the Rosetta had warped into small swirls colliding and amalgamating. My once clear, definitive dream of becoming an author had, like the latte art, distorted into small, ambiguous thoughts which bring me nothing but doubt and confusion. I shook my head, blinking quickly, and took a quick sip of the now lukewarm coffee.

 Buzz…Buzz Buzz.

 Three unread texts from Sharon, my enslaved editor.

 ‘How long are you going to be?’

 ‘It’s been 30 minutes. Where are you??’

 ‘The deadline is 3pm TODAY.’

 Duty calls. I gulped down the flat white and made my way back to my office. I guess today, also, wasn’t the day I would have an enlightenment on the art of writing engagingly. 

 Now, I am left with a distressed editor, many unnecessary flat whites in my belly and nothing but the sad memories of Michael Cunningham and my absent talent to get me through the day. I would have made a better lawyer, just as my parents had wanted.

 Although becoming an author is a regret of mine, my single semi-bestseller based on my experiences as an author who struggled to write, ‘A Home in Non-Fiction’, earnt me the respect of my avid bookworm niece, Jane. And presumably my Year 6 teacher who I’m sure owns a copy.