arwynnesmg9

[yuridovewing]

Holy shit. I just realized…. since I’m making Tigerheart, Flametail, and Dawnpelt biologically TawnyFeather kits….

They’re Appledusk descendants.

Two of them drown. The other gets tangled in the Dark Forest.

….

Y’all.

[hbogirls]

Riverdale characters as taylor swift albums?

THANK YOU!!!!!!

cheryl - okay it might seem obvious to say red for cheryl because she invented red and is red etc etc etc BUT consider for a moment: evermore. it deals in many kinds of loss and change, from romantic to familial to historically-tinged tangents that implicate the narrator in a sort of oblique but no less interesting way. ivy stands out as the main reason for this choice (it's a goddamn blaze in the dark! my little gay pyro!!), but i also think it applies throughout. evermore is an album about drama, and it's also the album with the closest aesthetic nod to tapping maple trees for sap, which is a secondary consideration but no less relevant to me here.

archie - 1989! it's kind of tempting to say rep for archie because of the way he is always fighting back against a fate that has befallen him, but 1989 captures his essence more. it's very stripped-back lyrically, which leaves it sort of unable to be characterized as a breakup album or an album of love songs or anything else. it simply is 1989 in the same way archie is a firefighter and a poet and a miner and a boxing gym owner/youth outreach coordinator (among other things). like archie, 1989 brings all of these together into something cohesive and motivated by the same ideals. it's also very flashy and optimistic! sad songs are disguised as upbeat pop numbers. this is very archie, too, as he is generally darling and sweet in the face of torment. also, archie is always somehow just learning about bisexuality for the first time, and that's pretty much also what 1989 is about.

betty - rep!! i could simply point out the fact that her little black bob wig is not dissimilar to taylor's small aesthetic shift toward edginess during the reputation era, and that would be enough. BUT! the album itself is also very betty. she believes herself to have an inherent evil inside of her that must be exorcised, but she's actually outwardly very normal. like she ultimately is falling in love with people and living her life as the girl next door, and then every once in a while she does snap and is like by the way i am still kind of a violent and angry freak!! and you're like oh yeah!! taylor very much entered the rep era feeling like she was a dangerous, unloveable liability, and that's also how the serial killer gene makes betty feel. even during season seven she feels something growing inside her that is strange and inherently destructive to a provincial, buttoned-up way of life, and then it turns out to just be sexual desire, specifically bisexuality, which is also very rep.

jughead - i mean .... he's THE tortured poet. ttpd. like taylor writing ttpd, he's incredibly aware of the narrative surrounding him and the way his pen can influence it. he's a little pretentious and maybe a little too reliant on literary allusions, but real fans get it. one of my favorite things about ttpd that is misunderstood by a lot of people unwilling to give taylor the benefit of the doubt is how tongue-in-cheek and ironic a lot of it is, a fact that is also true of jughead's magnum opus (riverdale).

veronica - can i say something shocking? lover. the man is the obvious jumping off point here, but yntcd is very aligned with our first ten minutes with veronica in the pilot when we hear the exchange "kevin is...." "GAY! thank god." lover is also very sure of itself aesthetically, and it outwardly presents itself as in love and put-together, ready to enter a new adult chapter of, like, guest judging on the voice or whatever. but hidden not too deep below the surface is a churning sea of insecurity and fear about both romance and career. i believe this, too, is what motivates veronica. she's terrified that she'll become her father, but she's also terrified to not be like him at all. she can never quite find a love where she feels totally secure. archie will always have a thing for betty. reggie will never quite meet her needs. veronica really is kind of a lover girl at heart, and she's always making sort of suspect decisions in the name of girlbossery, which is very on theme.

[purplesurveys]

1110

survey by evening-hush

Can you drive yet? Tell me what you think about it: I love being able to know how to do it. It’s super convenient and I appreciate how it allows me to travel on my own time and schedule.

What is your favorite time period in history to learn about? When it comes to learning history, it’s not really so much a certain period I like reading about but rather the sub-topic under it. That said, I like learning about social history the most. I’d much rather learn about the recipes people used to make than the weapons they used in war, or who conquered which lands.

What's the saddest report you have ever seen on the news? It unfortunately makes for somewhat frequent news here, but I always hear of news clips covering discarded fetuses - and sometimes even days-old infants - located in a trash bin. It makes me infuriated too, but for the most part it’s heartbreaking.

Describe what your smile looks like: I think I have quite a cheery smile. I just get insecure sometimes because of my teeth, but most of the time I like to smile big and have it look genuine.

What colors do you associate with all of the four seasons? As someone from a country that doesn’t actually get to experience any of the four seasons, here’s what I think of each: winter is white, summer is sky blue/yellow, spring is yellow/pink, and fall is maple-ish/orange.

In your honest opinion, what is the scariest sea creature you know? Erm, probably those deep-sea creatures that look more like rocks than fish.

Don't you think old people are awesome? I think most Baby Boomers suck, but there are some rare gems out there, I guess.

What is your favorite day of the week? Why? Friday, of course. Reaching the end of the day, knowing there’s a full weekend ahead of me, feels super relieving and freeing.

What time do you usually get to sleep at night? It varies. On weekdays I’ll sleep anywhere between 9-11 PM; and more recently, for weekends, I’ve been trying to stay up until midnight or beyond because I want to be able to catch up on the hobbies I don’t get to do on weekdays.

When you text, do you use text lingo? If it’s with a friend, yes. Never with a client or anyone I’m communicating with for official work purposes.

Oh! What's your name? Robyn.

Who would you cast to play you in a movie? I guess the obvious choice would be Vanessa Hudgens since she’s Filipina?? but idk. It would be neat to have someone as badass as Florence Pugh or Emma Stone to play me, though.

If you could go back in time & live in any decade, which would it be & why? I’d shake it up and pick some random, obscure, perhaps unremarkable decade like the 1570s. Just so I have absolutely no clue what to expect.

What superpower do you think would be the most handy in times of trouble? Manipulation of thoughts/emotions. It’s not the most ethical, but that’s not what we’re talking about here lmao.

Do you believe there is just one love for everyone, or...? I believe everyone can have their own truth when it comes to love.

What natural disaster scares you the most? Earthquakes.

Why are you best friends with your best friend? She just gets me, I guess. We get along very well, our humors match perfectly, but most of all she’s patient with me and I’ve always been able to see that she genuinely cares about me.

What quirk bothers you the most about other people? People are so quick to cancel others these days; it’s amusing to watch people enthusiastically pick fights over just about anything.

Would you ever marry for money? The idea itself is attractive, but I’m not sure I would actually push through with it. I think I have to love someone should I ever marry them.

What is one of the toughest things you have ever had to do? Move on with my life. Acknowledge the ugly emotions and acknowledge that I’m not doing ok.

What outrageous career could you see yourself wanting to do? This is outrageous for me, but modeling. The career itself is not strange, but I used to want to be a runway model in my early teens and it’s funny to look back on now.

Do you world peace is truly a possibility in the future? No.

What song lyrics best reflect your personality? Idk about personality, but right now, “Why do memories glow the way real moments don’t?” is super relevant to my life at the moment.

In what way would you want to help change the world? Being one with marginalized groups in their various fights and causes.

Do you think it is important to tell the truth or spare someone's feelings? It depends on the gravity of the situation, I guess? Like white lies are fine, but in more serious situations it’s always better to tell the truth. I remember that when my great-aunt died last year, all her siblings made it a point not to inform their brother (my great-uncle) who recently had a heart surgery and was thus very vulnerable and could possibly have an attack if he ever found out. They kept it from him for nearly the entire year and it drooooove meeeeee nutsssssssss. I suppose it was understandable for the first few days, but when those days turned to several months, I started to wish they’d tell him sooner because I felt like it would be a lot worse once he learned she’d been dead since the start of the year. Anyway, I was recently informed he knew about it already and I never heard drama come out of it, so I guess it was dealt with well.

What is the most awkward moment you have ever had to endure? Ugh, probably that time an online delivery arrived at home and it was a fucking vibrator/dildo meant for my parents.

When driving down the road looking for an address do you turn the radio low? Hahahaha yessss.

Pretend you are a really good cook, what meal would you make? Risotto.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your closet? Why? My mom jeans. It’s a classic look that always works, plus it’s super comfy.

What do you think of when you look at the stars? Looking up at the stars means I’m thinking hard. It gets me in a reflective mood.

If you could say ONE THING to the president, what would it be? Ughhhh fuck you get your presidency over with already we are all fucking tired.

What is your favorite kind of weather? As long as it’s chilly I’m happy.

If a turtle doesn't have a shell, is he homeless or naked? Both, I guess?

What's one thing you feel you must do in your life before it ends? Travel to a different continent.

What Disney princess are you most like? Personality wise, I mean. Ariel was such a hopeless romantic and reckless and dumb when it came to love, so let’s go with her.

Tell me about your worst fashion mistake: I was a late bloomer and let my mom buy my clothes for me at ages where I definitely should’ve already stopped doing so.

Do you believe in astrology? No.

Do you look into people's eyes when you talk to them? Not always.

You can have one of the following two things: trust or love. Pick one. Don’t they come together though? If I love someone it means I trust them?? But it’s whatever. I’ll go with trust.

Are you the kind of friend that you would want to have as a friend? Yeah, I think I’m thoughtful and I like that I’m good at remembering small details about my friends. I’d love a friend like that.

What would be harder for you, to tell someone you love them or that you don't love them? Probably that I don’t. I’ve never had to do it before, either.

What do you think is the most important thing in this life is? Self-satisfaction.

What did you think about this survey thingy? :] Nice roster of random questions! I personally enjoyed it.

[ckcker]

I Walk in Madness

Nobody has or can have all the information, but they have the requisite amount of information and agony in combination to believe they accurately see the entire thing.  I don’t and can never have all the information, but still I must have an opinion that seems binding or confident.  The information I selected and pressed into an opinion is now my special soul, and defines me.  It must be released and time-stamped to show that at one point, I made this all-encompassing definition, which is a summary of my self and the window of all my beliefs hereafter.  Elevate yourself to say, “I no longer wonder.”  

I have made myself publicly available; all that the community asks of you is that you participate.  To not participate is to disrespect those who put all of their time, effort and mental filaments into the ideal of community.  Such a reclusive impulse should be modified swiftly but in the most holistic way if possible, it is not helpful for others.  It is not helpful for you.  It is, at heart, cowardly, as it turns away in fear from the difficulties involved in building a resilient, healthy and just community.  It courts isolation as a comfort, when in fact voluntary isolation is the fortification of unhealthy habits and delusional or paranoid thought processes which precariously redirect the lost person away from the tough but rewarding civic duties necessary to building a fact-driven social network.  If I am lonely at night, the solution is to participate.  Though I walk in madness, I end up at the voting booth.  A discussion takes place in which everyone pretends to know how recycling works; one inches towards integration.  Recipes are shared, and an evening passes with an attempt to perfect avocado gazpacho.  

I love traditional open-toed sandals.  Making the body more vulnerable to the elements of the outside world shows a general dissipating apprehension.  Though current events inevitably fade in relevance and thus sustained public attention, their emotional immediacy and rousing thrust are exceptionally good at forcing the under-opinionated to participate and commune with others. Opinions always coalesce under the pressure of current events, and since current events are established and projected much more widely and much more often in this era, it follows that one should have more opinions, and participate more.  Of all the methods I’ve tried, the most effective and least artificial toner I’ve used is two tablespoons of rose water mixed with 1 cup of filtered water.  The rose water I use is a brand from Lebanon and you can probably find it in a local middle eastern grocery store.  Having a very public life no longer makes me uneasy!

I published the post and I was feeling satisfied, though very likely no other person would see it.  My only patron appeared to be a woman in her early 40s with hard bangs and a diamond choker smiling in her icon’s bubble, with arm around a presumed husband and the suggestive text “Be Kind” pegged in lower left corner in hot pink with white outline.  Miscellaneous background details in the icon, particularly a hanging silver streamer, communicated that at the time of the photo this woman had been at a New Years party.  Her silent interpretation of my persistently scarce content was eager musing territory for me when her icon focused my attention in the midst of a wild scroll, or when her face and militarized endorsement of kindness intruded with the elegance of a twirling maple samara upon my mind during a bout of fear-walking.  She made no effort to contact me, had no posts of her own or even personalized layout style, and yet she hypothetically watched me.  Of course it was pointless on her end — my posts were designed solely for the tactical misdirection of algorithmic spectres, conceived and published only in order to convince those supra-wiggly archivists of instinct that I was overwhelmingly a different person.  I did not want even the smallest gleak of truth to land online.  This “lost mind” plan even extended to my video watching and digital window shopping maneuvers, though in the case of the former it was impossible to totally restrain myself from a true curiosity and craving to pursue certain videos.  This lack of impulse control expanded even more robustly when porn entered an afternoon; it was insurmountable to search and watch against the specific desires and images I knew would satisfy me the most.  Yet I tried in rapid toe dips, once spending eleven minutes on a video of a nude bodybuilder shot-putting a collection of corns and lettuces into a wall, and with no o-face to conjure.  

“I walk in madness” was both my unorthodox phrase of meditation and most important sentence of self-parody.  When walking around at night in a certain state, I would now and then repeat to myself, “I walk in madness.”   After this I would laugh and say, “that’s dramatic.”  Self-parody swooped in to dehydrate the potential mirages, delusions.  But no other summary was as accurate — literally I walked in madness.  From the habits of my mind, a complex system had emerged and, quite simply, enveloped my unhinged ass.  I had strobe-nurtured my preferences for “the best way to think” over the last several years, so that now I was only sufficiently energized when mentally combining (1), an act of making fun of myself for feeling out of sorts, with (2), an earnest attempt at my own healing.  This perverse combo made me feel very aware but rarely good.  And when these thought commands then marinated in the head to a fully abusive gush, there was one more thing to consider.  What was the source of that powerful sensation that took me over when I went walking alone and without a plan at night?  What was it in the body that prodded me along that highly nummy snack trail of mini-catharses?  What was the source of those tiny pecks of transcendence that scattered down the back of the neck when nearing the production of an abyss?  That is, I did not only walk in madness because I had to, but also because it had become fun.  It raveled me on a line leading to some other connection, a connection which was not to The World.  It promised recognition of and commune with everything that did not matter or had not ever been confirmed to exist.

These areas were very important to pay attention to — I had ignored them for the majority of my, to be acutely real, goofiest years, it was important to know everything that was possible.  This was my routine.  I walked with glamour in circular patterns around less populated city neighborhoods at night, always listening to music that accentuated a spike in insane flavoring.  I only chose music that had the strength to combine halo and blurred hole, it was always music that floored my sensation to its final speed.  I knew I was so lucky to have built-in machinery that let me expand all of my reserves through music.  It was my only advantage.  It made me proud to turn inward.  If my skill was extreme sensitivity, it could only flourish in its most insular and native format.  

But I desperately needed new songs to fill me up, and over-listened as a resting state.  I over-listened, and a night out, i.e. the sustained advancement of nightlife over several hours, was an exhausting condition for me.  In a bar, I was penetrated by the old song I had heard over two thousand times before, but which now had been remixed in a contemporary style wherein synth stabs commanded by creatine hands had replaced what was once very clean, antiquated AOR guitar strumming.  The popular song I had highly ignored for the length of my life, and which hearing did not provoke outrage (or even flashback to wedding dance floor) but instead perpetual indifference in me, had been updated using the most cutting edge technology to produce aural depths not possible with the recording equipment available when the song was originally produced, and which now plunged the emotions much further down and much harder.  The original voice was now placed in a melancholy minefield of hysterically deep bass and plummeting, omnidirectional dynamics and, when the remix passed through the tequila that I was allowing to patrol my body, it replicated itself with viral menace to produce in me the extraterrestrial threat of a single tear.  

In this instance of a night out, Rob had invited me to this bar and party that I had never been to before.  Where I had expected to see more of his friends or even the endless hallway of acquaintances he seemed to be able to mobilize at random, instead I only saw Gail, revealing the conditions were such that Gail and I were the only people Rob had invited to the event.  There I stood under the song, almost leaking with melody-induced sentimentality or globular nostalgia mucus.  I looked across at Gail who was leaning on a wall, who did not seem to be able to observe me after our initial greeting when I arrived at the bar.  She appeared to not take in much information when moved from location to location, and when looking in her eyes I did not ever get the sensation that enormous perspectival changes were part of her social rhythm.  A common conclusion from a young person would be that she was fried, but whether as a condition of drugs/alcohol/trauma or some combo, there had not been any stories shared on which to focus a rock hard drama-horny eye.  Though I yearned to know what details flanked the long road leading to her hellscape, I realized it was unjust since I wasn’t prepared to present the full set of demonic coordinates that had led to mine.  How can one appeal with another story of lost sleep?  “Awake all night” is not the story anyway, yes we know, please make your complaining entertaining.  I was in the heart of the club, I understood it was not the moment to emerge brumal vapors in the form of uninteresting plot points excerpted from my very personal checklist of booboos.  “Oops,” the convicted serial killer said when the public did not like the realistic paintings he made of his victims while in jail.  Gurn: it was possible for the public to see horrifying paintings made by a serial killer.  

Several screens around the bar played the same music video, which the dance floor area magnified via projection on the wall, so that, in the most emotional part of the bar, emotion was keyed up considerably by the illusion of entering the world suggested by the song.  Rob and the bartender were near cheek-to-cheek, taking turns cocking their heads to the side so the voice of the other could enter the ear successfully over the newest Chicago house-derived, 80s-synthpop-infused rap song scorching the lair.  Gail stayed against the wall, looking around but appearing totally comfortable, a woman in her 60s drinking a High Life surrounded by a different generation, I was moved.  Being young is incredibly dangerous.  The bartender poured Rob and himself shots and they downed them together.  

Snippets of Gail’s circumstances had reached me, I knew she had been living with her son in Texas but now was essentially homeless, that Rob and Q.C. had met her at a goth club where she was hanging out with a much younger woman named Lillian.  Lillian would often be run into at the goth club or other clubs and bars, flirting with Rob and Q.C., and though she was definitely younger than Gail, she wore enough makeup to sufficiently alter minds and, with the support of moody bar lighting that left certain preferred corners in medium darkness, had an age that was unrecognizable.  “My instinct tells me she’s at least 35,” Rob had suggested after explaining to me the situation and after a long silence in which I didn’t respond or engage at all with what he had just said.  The pause had felt uncomfortable and also unnatural after such bulbous gossip so he apparently felt it important to break the silence with this one more detail of her estimated age.  I knew it would make both of us more comfortable if I said something in response to the story of Gail and Lillian but I didn’t, in the end, have anything to say, and so Rob told me he thought Lillian was at least 35, and I responded, “oh.”  Lillian and Gail were good friends and Lillian would often bring Gail along to the goth club; Gail did not dress on theme.  Eventually Rob learned she lived in her car and he invited her to stay with him for an unspecified amount of time.  Inevitably this increased my estimation of Rob’s worldview.  When he would decide once again it was time to throw trash from the neighborhood off the 2nd floor apartment balcony — for instance a decommissioned flatscreen or legless American Girl doll — Gail, watching through the open door from the beige velvet couch, would laugh once.  

Rob concluded his interaction with the bartender, turned to me and explained the bartender was hot and straight, and when the bartender worked the weekly gay night they held at the bar, he would appropriately enhance his image in honor of the conventional gay male eye — pouring himself into a tight black tank top that demonstrated his tactful chest hair and relevant bicep gains was the respectful thing to do.  “I’m going to dance now,” Rob said as a commanding female voice shook the establishment with its first notes.  

I wandered over with him but stuck to the doorway that connected the bar area to the dance floor, watching as he threw himself, alone, into the writhing environs, quite clogged with personal freedoms.  The mass of dancers sang the chorus of the song all together, the subject matter concerned a protagonist that felt jealous and sad to see their long pined after crush dancing with another girl.  In fact the protagonist likely never had a chance with the person who was their crush but had built up a dream narrative in which their idealistic love with this person was nearing possibility.  In the midst of such crushing circumstances, the protagonist, now left alone and heartbroken at some event they likely attended simply to engage further with their crush, has decided to dance through their loneliness despite it all, even if it will only enliven them for a moment, and for the length of the song.  Rob danced “with” almost anyone he turned his body towards.  Some people engaged, dancing back, and others stealthily maneuvered away.  At some point it was discernible that he no longer had on shoes or socks.  A girl very much liked that, drawing her friend’s attention to the fact, then touching Rob on the arm, saying something inaudible.  All three laughed.  I stood and watched, occasionally pinged by passing bodies gunning for the most emotional part of the bar.  I watched the video on the projection screen.  The female vocalist danced specifically, had short pink bowl cut hair, conveyed well-lit and accessible agony.  Several bar dancers unmistakably entered a sub-orgasmic flehmen response.  My left shoulder reflexively darted front and back — a significant space-grabber had brushed me by on their way to the dance floor.  It was eventually revealed to be Gail.  I watched her scream “YAHHHHHHHHHH!!!” as she launched herself into the crowd.  

[necromancy-enthusiast]

Day and Night

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairing: Sonia/Akane

Words: 1,688

Rating: Gen

Warnings: N/A

AO3: x

Summary: As Sonia prepares for her first firework festival with Akane, she reflects on their relationship.For the Danganronpa Rarepair Week Day 1 Prompt: Fireworks.

Notes: If your unfamiliar with kimono-related terminology, there’s a bit at the end with an index for your reference.

Thanks to @danganrarepairweek

“Are you almost done?”

“Just another moment, please.”

Akane sighed, looking over her shoulder to see Sonia struggling with the obi she insisted that Akane wear with her yukata. It had been at least ten minutes since Sonia had begun trying to tie the obi, and never had she wished for the assistance of her dressing maids back home more than now. Despite Akane’s extreme disdain for being fussed over, she had been a good sport for Sonia’s sake. But Akane had never had much patience, and what she had mustered up was starting to wear thin.

“Can’t you just tie it in a shoelace bow or something?” Akane asked.

“Absolutely not!” Sonia replied. “Now please, hold this,” she continued, handing one end of the obi to Akane. Akane sighed quietly, holding the end while Sonia struggled with the other, trying to remember exactly how to tie it into an elaborate fashion she had read about in a book some time ago.

It was Sonia’s first summer vacation in Japan. Last year, she’d returned home to Novoselic at her parents’ request, but this year she’d convinced them to let her stay. This finally gave her the chance to see one of the firework festivals she’d long to witness ever since she first read about them as a little girl. She was eager to go with her classmates, and especially with Akane.

“Ah, forget it, I don’t need an obi,” Akane said. “I’ve got the kumihimo tied on already, it’ll hold everything together fine.”

“Akane, I’m sorry, I really appreciate your patience...But just let me try for a little longer?” Sonia asked.

Akane sighed. “Alright, but just because I can’t stand it when you give me those puppy-dog eyes.”

Usually, when people found out that they’d been dating for a couple of months, they assumed it was a joke. They would laugh, but it would inevitability dissolve into uncomfortable, half-hearted chuckling once they saw the unchanged look on Sonia’s face and realized that yes, she was in fact dating Akane Owari.

Some had been polite enough to keep their doubts and questions to themselves. Others, however, were more than eager to express their confusion, even bewilderment.

Why would a princess ever date someone like her when she could have anyone she wanted?

Another moment of silent struggle passed before Akane spoke up again. “Hey, maybe you should check Youtube or something. They must have videos about tying obi on there.”

Sonia stopped mid-action, looking up to meet Akane’s gaze.

“Youtube...Of course!” Sonia said. “You’re a genius, Akane!”

If Sonia had been told two years ago that many people in Japan didn’t know how to properly wear kimono in the traditional fashion, she would’ve been shocked. But she had learned a lot in her time here, a lot she never would’ve learned from books or foreign diplomats. For instance, not everyone in Japan knew how to wear traditional dress. Not everyone was intimately familiar with Japanese dramas. Not everyone was well versed in Japanese history. And the most relevant lesson to her current situation, putting on a kimono and tying an obi was not as easy as it seemed.

“I mean, I don’t get that compliment often, but hey, I’ll take it,” Akane smiled. Retrieving her smartphone, Sonia opened the Youtube app and quickly found a video guide on how to tie an obi. It was a much simpler fashion than she had originally wanted, but given how much time she’d already spent struggling with it, Sonia decided that at least in this case, she could settle.

One of the things Sonia had most looked forward to about attending her first firework festival was getting to wear a kimono. True, she had some back home, but they were all elaborate affairs, some with multiple layers that required the assistance of her dressing maids to properly put on, and the more casual nature of the festival called for a yukata instead. For weeks, she’d been looking forward to taking Akane shopping and finding the perfect outfits to wear together.

Of course, Sonia had done all the appropriate research beforehand. She had asked Hiyoko where her family purchased her kimonos, and took Akane to the most affluent store Hiyoko had mentioned. Sonia had to frame it as a ‘surprise date’, but Akane, despite what many thought, wasn’t totally clueless. She became more suspicious as they’d neared the store, and once she knew where they were going, had nearly refused to go in, citing every possible excuse.

“You know I don’t like dresses. Those things are so expensive! I’ll just end up tearing it or staining it, then you’ll have spent all that money for nothing.”

It wasn’t just dresses that Akane tended to abstain from, she avoided just about any sort of elaborate or fancy clothing if she could get away with it, she didn’t even like wearing their school uniform. Despite Akane’s claims of more utilitarian reasons, Sonia could sense a deeper reservation.

“Aaaaaand...Done!” Sonia said. She lead Akane over to the full body mirror nearby and turned Akane around so she could admire Sonia’s handiwork.

“It’s nice babe,” Akane said. “You did way better than I would’ve.”

“Only because of your suggestion,” Sonia said.

“Hrmm…Can’t promise I won’t accidentally ruin it with all the street food I’m gonna eat, but you did insist.” She made a full turn as she checked her reflection in the mirror. “This is probably the most expensive thing I’ve ever owned.”

“Imagine how many people you could feed with all the money you’d spend on one of those kimonos. It feels like a waste.”

Akane had never been secretive about her less-than-ideal background, about how she often went hungry and cold as a child, but she still hid things deep in her heart. She always insisted that she didn’t need much, just the feeling of the wind through her hair as she climbed and jumped across the city and a full sensation in her stomach. From an early age, she’d learned that asking for or wanting anything more was a sign of weakness.

Sadness and vulnerability were also synonymous with weakness, and where Akane came from, the weak had a tendency of disappearing. Sonia couldn’t blame her, after all, she’d been taught that it was a princess’ duty to always smile and be strong for her people. There was no room for frailty, perceived or otherwise. If you were weak, you didn’t survive.

“I want to do this for you. You deserve something nice every now and then, don’t you think?”

“Well…”

“I’ll take you to your favorite ramen shop afterwards, my treat.”

A beat passed.

“I’m in.”

Sonia had wanted to get Akane one of the gorgeous, elaborate furisode on sale, and had even talked Akane into trying one on. It was a brilliant shade of crimson with a gorgeous floral and mountain scenery pattern, and with matching kanzashi, Sonia had absolutely fawned over how beautiful Akane was. But Akane had balked at how confining and pointlessly complex the furisode was, and how hot it would be to wear in the middle of summer.

Sonia decided that in this case, Akane’s complaints were fair, so they opted instead for a deep blue yukata for Akane with a maple leaf pattern and a red obi to go with it, while Sonia purchased a lavender yukata with a chrysanthemum motif and light green obi for herself. The furisode would have to wait for colder months, hopefully by the time Akane had forgotten all her woes about being fussed over by what she referred to as ‘an army’ of dressing assistants.

“I suppose I should start on my own obi,” Sonia said, picking it up from the dresser nearby.

“I can...Try and help?” Akane offered. Sonia laughed, wrapping her arms around Akane.

“Don’t worry, I just need you to hold my phone up for me as the video plays.”

“Alright!” Akane said, picking Sonia’s phone up from where she’d placed it on the dresser. “I’m gonna hold the hell out of your phone!”

Sonia giggled boisterously at Akane’s remark, waiting until she calmed down to tell Akane to replay the video.

There were many things that Akane didn’t know, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t taught Sonia more than almost anyone else during her time in Japan. Akane had shown Sonia the best ramen shops in the city, how to ride public transit, the best way to minimize personal injury when falling, how to use more modern slang and vernacular. The nature of Akane’s knowledge and skills were vastly different from Sonia’s, but that didn’t mean it was any less valuable. Sonia wanted to learn everything she could, and Akane had been one of the best teachers she’d ever had.

Before long, Sonia’s obi matched Akane’s.

“Looks great,” Akane said

“Thank you. I’m glad it took much less time than yours.”

“Ah, it’s fine, as long as we make it in time for me to get first pick of the street vendors.” Sonia laughed again, something she did far more around Akane than most people.

“I’m sure they’ll have more than enough food for you and everyone else.”

“They’d better. It’s not a festival without good food.”

It was Mahiru that had said that Sonia and Akane were like day and night, and Sonia would be lying if she denied it. It wasn’t at all that she wanted to, though. After all, what would one be without the other? They brought out the best in each other, complimenting each others’ strengths while helping to address their weaknesses. And really, wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You ready to go?” Akane asked after Sonia had gotten her purse.

“Ready!” Sonia said. After they.made their way to the door, Akane linked arms with Sonia before they headed out into the dusk.

Later that night, as they watched the fireworks light up the sky, Sonia held Akane’s hand. True, they may have been like day and night, but just as true was that fact that without one, the other wouldn’t be as remarkable.

NOTES ON TERMINOLOGY:

Yukata: An informal, unlined kimono consisting of only one layer meant for warm weather. Furisode: A very formal, colorful kimono mostly worn by young women and girls. Consists of two or more layers. The kind of kimono Hiyoko is always wearing. Obi: The ornamental sash worn with a kimono. Kanzashi: Traditional Japanese hair accessories. Kumihimo: AKA karihimo. It’s similar in function to an obi but more utilitarian, thinner, non-ornamental, and with a wider range of uses.

[runadamsrun]

It’s been a while since I’ve put anything up on my Tumblr.

One reason is because I’ve been busy. Teaching is an awful lot of work. Of course, it’s been so much easier this year with the pandemic going on and schools being closed (I’m personally loving this though, so sorry everyone). Virtual/distance/online (whatever you want to call it) teaching has made this job so much easier, and so much more refreshing, compared to what I went through my first year last year.

So yeah. While it has been much easier, I’ve still been busy because I’ve had to change up my lesson plans. Like, adapting them to make them online-learning-friendly. I’ve also been trying to change my curriculum map to better connect and tie in the subjects students will be learning throughout the year (to like, connect what they’re learning in the first unit, for example, and make it relevant and come up later even in the latter part of the school year). So there’s that too.

...

But another reason why it’s been so long since I’ve put anything on my Tumblr is because I’ve been... waiting, I guess. And hoping that I’m wrong, and just... my wishing that there’s some logical, or romantic, explanation for what I’m about to talk about. I’d say this is probably my main reason; because I’ve been too afraid to put it into text and out into the universe.

But just the other day, on the 10th of November (I remember because I spent Veterans Day the next day brainstorming how to finish up this post), I finished one of my favorite (maybe after HakoMari) light novel series of all time: Mahouka Koukou no Rettousei. And to summarize it with a few words, there are these two “siblings” who are really, really in love with each other; like, a completely and genuinely true love. And with complete trust and dedication in each other. And I guess... finishing the series and seeing the true love between the two characters made me reflect on my own life.

After all, it’s in the middle of November, and right now, I feel like I need to put this down somewhere. Because the way things are looking is so different from... that. That I can’t help but feel bitter and depressed and just... hurt.

...

I first met my senpai in February over 4 years ago (in 2016). If you look far back enough in my Tumblr, you’ll see that post: when I first met her at KPQ. It’s been over 4 and a half years since that day, and it’s been a ridiculous roller coaster between us with so many ups and downs I’ve lost count.

When I first met her in the game, I admittedly thought her character looked cute. Of course, I know it’s just a character sprite. I could make a girl character myself and no one would be the wiser. But well, that was my first impression I guess.

Then she spent hours in KPQ leveling me, and we added each other to our buddy lists at the end of it, I think... with the promise that we’d meet up in the future to level together. I saw her again not too long later, and we talked, and I probably asked her a question or something. And she gave me advice for something or another. And it wasn’t just one time, but I’d ask her many questions, and she’d always have an answer for me. She was kind of like an upperclassman, who I could turn to and rely on if I ever needed anything. So that’s why she was my senpai.

At this time, I think I got really attached to her. As in, I suppose infatuated? Like, to the person behind the character sprite. She was helpful, kind, knowledgeable, and patient.

When she first left me for no apparent reason, I was emotionally crushed. And as I said at the time, there was no reason why I should’ve felt that way for someone who I’d only known for maybe tens of hours online, and without even knowing anything about them (like, all our conversations at that point had been only related to the game).

She came back the next day, and she... thought nothing of her actions at the time, despite my reaction the day before. Despite how she had to have known how I felt. But I brushed it off because I was just so glad she came back. Now by this point, I look back to the me of 4 years ago, and I wonder what was going on through my head, and why I was so attached to her. I think... maybe it’s because I didn’t really have romantic interests at that moment (I still don’t, as of my writing this), and I wanted someone? And I guess I had seen enough anime/manga/novels and stuff where the protagonist just happens to... by coincidence or fate, meet their person on the other end of the red string of fate. Kind of like... Kirito and Asuna, or Weed and Seoyoon. In a game, even.

We spent some time together, doing Maple stuff, and I still didn’t know anything about her. Then she left a second time about a month later, this time cutting me off entirely, and saying that I’d find someone better.

This time I was angry, of course. But... I don’t know. Well, it’s all there in some March 2016 posts. I don’t really want to go into it. But I think I was angry at the time because I felt like... I’d been leashed and my emotions toyed with. She knew just how attached I was to her, and... looking at our conversation at that time, it’s almost like I played right into it, into this drama or play of hers.

Then in September of 2016, she reached out to me on the game’s forum (it has a private messaging system where you can start a conversation with someone, and communicate back and forth) and apologized, telling me how she had to have a surgery. And as a result, she cut out everyone she knew so it wouldn’t hurt. Hence her behavior toward me. I also mentioned this in an earlier post not too far back.

And after she sent that message, I forgave her, and we both logged on and met up. And she told me her story “in person”. And we reconnected. I think... our relationship became a lot better, and it felt more genuine. It definitely felt somewhat different from before. And her opening up about why she had left made me feel... mmm... I guess special? Because I imagined she wouldn’t tell anyone else about that surgery, but me in particular. Maybe I was special to her.

Then the game released a big patch (New Source) and the game became basically unplayable for most of 2017, so we only kind of stayed in touch through the forum’s private messages. But it wasn’t even really “staying in touch”. As you’ll see me mention later throughout this post, that conversation on the forums between us? 80% of the messages are from my end. (I know how this sounds; I’m disgusted with myself too, fucking creep and weird me.)

In 2018, I commissioned the piece of art up there for her birthday in April (it’s the draft, because I don’t want to put up the completed version). She loved it. And... for the rest of the year, she was basically gone. Completely off the radar. That is, didn’t respond to any of the private messages on the forums either. But she came back near the end of the year, and... mmm. It was because she got into a car accident, according to her (hence the MIA). But I mean, I only heard about it once I coincidentally found her online in the game and she told me. I wouldn’t have heard about it otherwise, definitely not through the forums.

But anyway... she would need to have a surgery. So we got married in-game.

...

As I’m writing this and looking back, I’m tearing up. Damn it. Because... ugh. Because it was my dream, and my dream came true.

In my character’s inventory, I always held onto the materials needed for a wedding ring, and the wedding quests, and stuff.

And they were finally going to be of use.

I held onto those items because... I’m not really sure why. Maybe I wanted to be ready for an impossibility? I had always said that I wouldn’t ever marry anyone else in the game except for her, despite guildies wanting to marry me for Onyx Apples (a rare consumable from doing a married-people-only party quest). Up until that point, I was pretty confident that my character would stay single forever. But then she... asked me if I ever thought of getting married. And then I proposed to her. And she said yes.

So we got married.

I guess I felt insecure after the two times she left me. I’m a horrible, insecure person, but I always had a fear that one day, she wouldn’t want to meet me or associate with me in-game anymore. Idk. Or worse, that maybe she’d pick up someone else and be their... senpai, for lack of a better word. Someone to replace me.

So us getting married... made it official. Made me someone who’d be bound to her. And that was, and still is, the highlight of all the time I’ve spent in that game.

It was cute, honestly. We had to meet one of the NPCs, called “Mom and Dad”, to get their permission. Well, she had to, specifically. So she asked me if I was ready to meet her parents. And once we got there, she even jokingly said, “Oh no, they don’t trust us.” And... it was really cute. And sweet.

And then she disappeared after that.

In 2019, she was also... MIA throughout most of it. Meaning, I probably saw her, at most, several tens of hours the entire year. The only method I had of reaching her was through the forum’s private messaging, of course. In the latter half of the year, we met up... kind of on-and-off and fought bosses. That was basically the year for us summed up, and there wasn’t any real progress or communication. Of course, also basically no replies in the private messages.

In 2020, I’d like to think it was an improvement. When I saw her again in February, I tried to talk to her about things not related to the game, and learn more about her as a person. I asked her about her favorite songs, or if she liked Harry Potter (because I’d like to take her to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter one day); she did, of course. And... I tried. I mean, I really, really did. To get to know her better, I mean.

I essentially confessed, and told her she made my experience on MapleRoyals what it was. That she was my raison d'être, and the only reason why I logged on. I asked her if she used Discord, or Skype, or anything, and she said no to everything. And she said that... she preferred to be in contact through the forum’s private messaging system. Which... has been bad, to say the least. Most of it is just me... messaging and... not getting any response.

And at the end of it all, to my essentially-a-confession... she asked me if I wanted to re-attempt a boss fight. And she told me she had to go afterwards.

...

And anyway, the last time I heard from her, it was some time in March this year. She told me she’d be busy with a project, and that she’d be back some time in May or June.

And that’s been... it. Despite my using the forum private messages, I haven’t heard from her since.

I’m reading this post over again before I submit it, and... I admit. I sound crazy. I sound fucking creepy. I sound insane. I sound delusional. I’m admitting it. I sound creepy, and delusional, and crazy, and insane.

But it’s hard to really... describe how many hours we’ve spent together in-game. I can confidently say it’d number in the hundreds of hours together. Most of it was us just grinding mobs, or fighting bosses, and very little of it was us actually talking (again, only recently in the beginning of 2020 did I make headway and talk to her about non-game stuff). But... I’d like to think there was some meaning to all those hours we spent together. And I’d like to think that I meant something to her. Because... after all, why else would you spend so many hours with someone, over the course of 4 years, in this crazy, stupid roller coaster ride right? 

I don’t know who she is behind that character sprite, behind the screen. I don’t know much about her at all, aside from her name, her favorite song, and whether or not she likes Harry Potter. And some other things (kinda more personal I guess).

But goddamn it. I was, and still am, in love with whoever is behind that character. And... maybe when I confessed, I wasn’t clear enough, despite... how clear I think I was?

Because how do you become any more clear without sounding like a creep making unwanted advances? You can’t. I also... at the time, wanted to keep what we had between us (whatever you can call everything I described above) than risk losing her, and losing everything. That thought absolutely terrified me.

And now, I don’t know what she thinks of me. And as a result, here we are, and here I am.

Over half a year later and nothing from her. I don’t know what she’s doing. I don’t know if she’s okay. I don’t know... well, anything about her really. It just... fucking sucks, when I feel like... all that time we spent together has meant so much to me. And on the other hand, maybe it’s meant not much, or nothing, to her. Otherwise, wouldn’t she have checked her private messages and responded? At least once?

God fucking damn it. I know this is the case. But I still miss her. And... I’m still in love with her.

I’m fucking scum. Aren’t I fucking disgusting.

[click2watch]

Vote Buying Scandal Stokes Fears of EOS Governance Failure

EOS investors can’t say they weren’t warned.

What was foretold in a March blog post by ethereum creator Vitalik Buterin may have come to pass on the world’s fifth largest blockchain, with a bout of vote buying drama rocking the $5 billion protocol over the weekend.

That’s when a Twitter account named “Maple Leaf Capital” produced screenshots from a leaked Excel spreadsheet that supposedly show the China-based exchange Huobi, one of the world’s oldest and largest, accepting money for its support of certain entities in the charge of ensuring the network’s distributed decision-making.

The allegation is notable as EOS has only 21 “block producers,” trusted entities periodically elected to maintain the history of the blockchain and that receive rewards in the form of cryptocurrency for doing so.

No one can verify any of the claims made in this thread, nor the provenance of the spreadsheet’s data. Huobi promptly denied all the accusations.

However, that doesn’t mean damage control isn’t being done. Block.One, the creators of the EOSIO software, for which they raised $4 billion in a nearly year-long initial coin offering (ICO), issued its own statement on Tuesday.

It reads:

“We are aware of some unverified claims regarding irregular block producer voting, and the subsequent denials of those claims. We believe it is important to ensure a free and democratic election process within EOS and may, as we deem appropriate, vote with other holders to reinforce the integrity of this process.”

Accusations of wrong-doing aside, the controversy illuminates deeper issues, adding fuel to the fire for those who allege the EOS protocol may have an incomplete approach to governance.

At the simplest level, the debate is over whether block producers should be allowed to pay other people to vote for them. The EOS interim constitutions, documents designed to put forth rules for participants on the network, clearly ban vote buying, but that constitution has never been ratified by EOS users.

Yet, at the same time, EOS seems designed for block producers to support other block producers.

Block producers earn tokens and have an interest in the long-term health of the protocol, so some argue it seems natural that they would (and must) use those tokens to support other block producers they have collaborated with and believe to be good stewards of the network.

Kevin Rose, community manage of EOS New York, a block producer since launch, acknowledged the point but told CoinDesk: “Profit sharing and vote trading which compromise an organization’s ability to remain independent is the issue.”

Huobi did not immediately respond to a request for comment. Block One declined to provide additional comment.

Unfinished governance

Despite the lack of conclusions, however, the incident has heightened claims that the state of the EOS software was perhaps too primitive at launch, so it’s worth revisiting these claims which have now renewed.

First, EOS has on-chain governance, albeit a system in which only one decision can be made by the EOS token holders. That is, they can decide which companies have those 21 block producer seats that control EOS’s ledger.

Every other decision is up to those 21 block producers. They can even (as we’ve previously reported) lock up accounts they believe to be operating maliciously.

Second, EOS has a constitution that forbids buying votes, but it’s never been ratified. (It isn’t even clear what ratification means in that the software was released without a way to agree on rules.)

This point is relevant to a recent Medium post by ethereum developer Vlad Zamfir, in which he discusses the need for a governance scheme to attain legitimacy by having the consent of the governed.

In the case of EOS, whether that goal is satisfied remains unclear.

The interim constitution was put together by a committee of block producer hopefuls leading up to the EOS launch. Its last article acknowledges that it is an interim constitution until a new one can be ratified, but not only has ratification not proceeded: there isn’t even a a legitimized way to ratify it.

Since launch, new block producer hopefuls have entered the space who don’t know about or don’t care about the process that yielded the interim constitution, and some of them have managed to win one of those top spots.

Third, EOS governance as written does not work well with exchanges, which have custody over a vast amount of user cryptocurrency.

EOS governance is done through the wallet. If users don’t turn custody of their tokens over to exchanges, there’s really no way for them to vote their tokens. Perhaps more importantly, there’s no way to prevent exchanges from voting the tokens of their users who don’t care to vote.

Voting works at the wallet level, so a person can only really vote if they have custody. Anyone who wants to express their opinion about who should be a block producer has to stake their tokens on EOS, which locks them up for at least three days.

Each wallet can vote for one to 30 block producers. However many they choose, each gets a vote for every token the user staked. So if a user has 10 staked tokens and they vote for 10 block producers, each one gets 10 votes. If they vote for 30, then all 30 get 10 votes. There’s no additional nuance.

Voting is also continuous. EOSIO software rechecks the vote counts every few minutes and if a new candidate has pulled into the top 21, one gets kicked out and that new one goes in.

Since users put their tokens into an exchange’s wallet (or wallets) to use them there, an exchange would have to go to great lengths to give their EOS holders a way to vote (such as creating a separate wallet for each permutation of votes). Bitfinex has written open source software to enfranchise its users, but it has limitations. We do not know of any other exchanges that have implemented it or anything similar.

The active EOS community has urged users since before the launch to take their tokens off exchanges, a point made by one user in a group video conference call of Chinese block producer candidates hosted by EOS Alliance, organized around the current controversy.

Lastly, EOS wallets are anonymous by default. This makes it impossible to know who is giving what to whom. It’s not as if the various block producers accused of paying Huobi would have to pay a portion of their block rewards to known Huobi wallet, after all.

So, even if Huobi hasn’t accepted any such payments, the present conversation reflects widely shared fears that something like this could happen.

Vitalik’s prediction

Still, some allege that those backing the EOS protocol have known about the issue, but been slow to satisfy concerns. Buterin, as an example, articulated the vulnerability to vote buying before EOS launched.

He wrote: “The average voter has only a very small chance of impacting which delegates get selected … their incentive is to vote for whoever offers the highest and most reliable bribe.”

At the time, he also observed that the tension around deciding who gets to be block producer “has essentially become yet another frontier of US-China geopolitical economic warfare.”

This remains true. Scanning various EOS-affiliated Telegram channels, we saw EOS holders announcing that they’d no longer vote for any China-based block producers at all. Though it might be more accurate to say the faultline is a tension between block producers who participated in the public launch and those who didn’t.

But it does reflect a deeper problem spurred by a failure to define rules at the outset.

Some users have been treating the interim constitution like so much (digital) paper. Besides the interim constitution, there’s also a block producer’s agreement, in which block producer candidates commit to have websites and disclose anyone who owns more than 10 percent of their company.

Some have not done so, and there’s little the community can do besides fork the protocol.

As Zamfir wrote on his blog:

“If a coordination mechanism is legitimate, people will (justifiably) act like it’s a fact that people will use it. … If it’s illegitimate then they will act like it’s a fact that people won’t use it.”

Some people with clout on the network aren’t acting like the the interim constitution and block producer agreement are legitimate. We already know that, because they don’t all do the things that agreement requires them to do.

So, even if Huobi isn’t buying votes now, eventually someone almost certainly will unless rules are put in place that the whole community views as legitimate.

In other words, it’s a problem that may just take time to sort out.

That was the take of a block producer calling itself Aurora EOS, which wrote on its blog:

“As EOS grows and supports more use cases, those invested in the long-term success of the network will combat the forces, like vote manipulation, that degrade the long-term security of the network.”

That is, if a decentralized community like EOS has already become fragmented, the built-in incentive for the network to succeed should promote solutions.

As Zamfir’s post points out: it won’t be enough for it to vote something through. It has to be viewed by enough participants as legitimate such that the lion’s share of participants feel inclined to follow the rules.

In the short term, if any block producers are using their clout avariciously, Block.One can crush them out of the top 21 with its giant pool of still on the sidelines tokens.

But one whale shoving aside others may not hold up as legitimate governance strategy over time either.

Crowd image via Consensus archives 

The leader in blockchain news, CoinDesk is a media outlet that strives for the highest journalistic standards and abides by a strict set of editorial policies. CoinDesk is an independent operating subsidiary of Digital Currency Group, which invests in cryptocurrencies and blockchain startups.

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[londonlanded]

Weeks 7 & 8

Alright so the longer I am here, the longer I am starting to realize that this is going to be a bi-weekly digest at best, sorry my life isn't interesting enough to document on the daily but hopefully it's worth the wait (and hopefully more stuff happens to me to make it worth chronicling!). 

Monday was marked by another walk around my area, though I headed east along the Thames this time, and stumbled upon the Hammersmith bridge, which I had heard rumours about but hadn't actually seen myself. 

Tuesday, came home and decorated my room to the point that it's actually liveable, half since it was about time it started to feel like home, half because I had just had an infuriating shift at work and needed something to go well that day. Here's the thing about my job that I can actually, legally disclose without compromising the welfare or confidentiality of the people I work for and with; how my day goes is largely dependent on who I am working with. This is the reality for any job, I know, but it's all the more relevant when you are someone who largely depends on being cognitively stimulated to at least a small degree. My job involves a lot of repetitive tasks, the bulk of it isn't necessarily challenging though it is tiring and relatively demanding. You're remotely interacting with literally hundreds of people per day, some are a little less thrilled to speak to you than others, some want to tell you the stories of their lives. The day-to-day job is almost never the same, and it varies just as greatly based on my company as it does based on the phone calls. On days when I feel like I'm doing the job of two people, I am somewhat less friendly than usual.

Dave was the recipient of my angst on Tuesday night, and as a result, sent this to the hotel. 

A very confused concierge, used to receiving guest-related and not staff-related queries, cautiously came into the communications office and dropped them off, but only after having read the delivery notice for the flowers since the recipient was initially written as "Maple Face." Not a bad start to my Wednesday. 

Finished it with dinner outside my building, I am happy on the pavement so long as there's a decent sky above me. It's not living on Park Lane, certainly, but at the moment, I am more than happy with a partially obstructed view of the sunset, and Red Planet Pizza as company.

Friday before work, I hunted down a birthday present for my Englishman, hopping between tailors in Mayfair and trying to find something I could afford wound up being impossible, so I found myself on Carnaby street.

After successfully hunting down the requisite obnoxious yet high quality pair of socks he was looking for, I meandered among the throngs of tourists that I have only recently stopped identifying with myself. It's not that there isn't anything more to discover, that would be insane to think, but it's mostly that I feel like I have my bearings now, and that I honestly feel at home. Spent Saturday in Wycombe with Dave to celebrate his birthday, and spent Sunday helping a friend move out of his flat. Quiet weekend, the first I had off in a while, and it was wholly appreciated.

Monday was spent doing a bit of life admin, but things got interesting again on Tuesday when I went to meet a Swedish friend to go get our very first ever official English breakfasts. 

I decided to go for the grilled tomatoes, British bacon, sausage, egg and black pudding, while Bea went for the baked beans, bacon, sausage and toast combination. Salty and satisfying, I could hear my arteries crying but for that moment, I didn't really care.

Bea and I decided to explore the area after our meal, and before we knew it, we were at the foot of Westminster Abbey, accidentally trying to enter through the exit. 

We walked on, over the Thames on the Westminster bridge, and right under the London Eye. 

We parted ways so that Bea could continue her day off at the Tate Modern, and so I could make it to work on time, but my walk took me through Trafalgar Square where I got to listen to an incredible violinist alongside a hundred or so other spectators. 

Walked past the Canadian embassy and made it to work 45 minutes early in spite of my morning of adventures. It would have all been perfect had I not somehow sprained my ankle while walking... someone told me it was a bad idea to walk 8 miles inToms.....I didn't listen the last 30 times why should I listen now!!! Still, it's been a bit demoralizing being unable to really get around these past few days, but there's nothing a little ice and ibuprofen can't fix right?...

Wednesday I managed to have another instance of public transport sociability. I offered directions to an American couple and wound up learning that the gentleman was a pediatric orthopaedic surgeon who spends a lot of time at sickkids. I told him I had spent quite a bit of time there too, though not as a patient of course. He told me they were from Boston, his wife was a social worker and told me I should consider social work instead of law, and she invited me to her practice in Boston if I ever found myself here. The gentleman handed me his card and did the same. It was only when I looked at it that I realized I had just traded giving directions for a tour of Harvard Medical School. Oh, the people you meet.

Thursday, Spent my afternoon at a guitar shop contemplating a little pre-birthday impulse buy (I was talked out of it, thank you dad). While I didn’t wind up buying anything, I did hook up to an amp and enjoy myself thoroughly for the hour and a bit I was there. I wonder how many times I can go back before they tell me I need to buy something...

Still, the day really picked up at sundown, as my Four Seasons affiliation was about to pay off once again. Every department was given a pair of tickets to Kinky Boots, and my supervisor, Paris, decided to take me since we both had a day off! Nothing better for a sprained ankle than being forced to sit still for an hour, right? Though my friend Coline and I got stuck on the tube for about an hour on the way to Embankment Station, we still had time to grab a bite without having to speed-hobble to the theatre. Coline and I knew nothing about the show at all before it started, but thankfully the show has more blunt statements than it does subtleties. 

We were met with Drag Queens and drama, tales of self-acceptance and songs that made you laugh and, at a few moments, made some of us cry. While I’m no professional reviewer, I’d recommend this show to anyone with a soul, who wants to laugh until they snort a little while feeling like their perspective on people might be slightly more open than it was when they walked through the Adelphi Theatre’s doors. 

Friday, back to work, nothing like a 6:30AM start time after going to bed less than 4 hours prior (whoops). Still, working with Paris is always a pleasure, and the day was a literal zoo. Apparently one of my colleagues ran some statistics, we received 3000 phone calls over two days. It’s August, high season for hotels, but it’s still so hard to believe that one room staffed with three people (at most) can handle that much attention in a 48 hour period. 

Saturday, working again, thankfully this time I was alone for a few hours but didn’t cause any hotel-wide problems like I did that first time.... After work, headed out to Hyde Park to meet up with some of my coworkers for a picnic, and was pleasantly surprised with the way our rainy day went. 

My Guyanese coworker Glen had been back to Ghana since we saw him last, and brought raw coconuts, plantains, and black beans from home. He made us bean fritters and fried plantains, jungle juice (ginger, lime juice, African chilli, cayenne and some other spices I’ve forgotten), and brought some raw coconut for us to snack on. 

Our Portuguese coworker (Isabel, the long-time operator who is queen of the office, night shift, and everything in between), made fish cakes, some salad concoction with everything under the sun in it (mussels, eggs, corn, potatoes, parsley etc.), chorizo from Portugal and some other fried stuff that I can’t name but ate anyway. She would hold her ground against any Jewish grandmother I’ve come across if there were a competition for who could stuff their grandchild with food the fastest, I was literally having food thrown at me. 

Still, the highlight of the day came after we had finished eating. Isabel guided us to the small patch of trees in the southwest corner of the park where, for whatever reason, someone once set their pet cockatiel free. Instead of losing track of their pet, the cockatiels somehow bred and stuck around, and what resulted is a thriving community of bright-green, ex-domestic relatives of parrots that hang around in Hyde Park and eat seeds out of your hands, off your head, off anything you place food on that’s high enough for them to feel safe enough to land. Exhibit A, my new soulmate:

Sunday, 6:30 start with my favourite night operator, Bertrand from France. He’s quiet and has the kind of humour that catches you by surprise sometimes. On the other hand, he’s the same guy whose stomach grumbled loudly all morning today, and the first time it happened he looked at me with a deadpan expression and said, “oh, inside fart,” just as I was reaching to pick up the phone. Not sure whether it was his comedic timing or the concept itself, but he had me in stitches and therefore unable to do my job. Thankfully, most people have better things to do than call the Four Seasons at 7:15AM. 

Today was a reflective sort of day though. I bailed on my afternoon plans because of my sprained ankle, and wound up sitting in a cafe with my journal, my head as full as its pages. Perhaps its pathetic fallacy, the weather was grey and the rain was spitting and I was about to descend into a funk. 

But then, I stopped and thought about everything for a second. I thought beyond the moment I was living in, and about the fact that I was able to reflect on it at all. I am lucky enough to be in a position where I can actually want things to be different than they are. I want my schedule to work so I can travel, I want to go to law school, I want to do a job that I love. I have desires that go beyond feeding myself and my family, I have people who know I am far away and still take care of me. I can afford the coffees I sometimes allow to go cold on the table, too engrossed in the ideas flowing from my ballpoint pen onto well-loved pages bearing the stains of many mugs that cooled before this latest victim of my narrowly focused attention. I know I did a bit of my own legwork to get to this position, but beyond my own limited contributions, I know I have more people to thank than I have the eloquence to properly do so. 

I looked back out at the rain and smiled, packed my bag and my journal, pulled on my jacket and left my dishes where they were. I walked outside, pulled my hood off my head, and smiled into the mist.  

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