#((which means I am kind of fucked with regards to public transportation))

[malpractice-morale]

you know green thumbs? And how people who are shit with plants have black thumbs? I am that but for cars….

#so after an oil leak after last driving our bus #the bus now has a completely drained battery which means I can’t drive him to the mechanic #(which also means I won’t get my train back to university town) #((which means I am kind of fucked with regards to public transportation)) #but my dad had the glorious idea to just tow the car to get it to start #which didn’t work when I was in the bus #so he had me drive the Volvo #which (and I cannot stress this enough) is a very terrible idea #I am a shit driver by any metric and you do not want me to tow a car with a towrope #that was bound to go wrong #so after attempt 1 (failed spectacularly; almost crashed twice) I got out to tell my dad that I am not qualified to tow #but my dad (the fool) goes nah you’ll be fine #so now I have not only destroyed the Volvos handbrakes (two years ago; the car started smoking) #I have also destroyed the clutch (two hours ago; not smoking but smelling very much like very burnt rubber) #and the bus’ battery is charging at a power outlet as it should’ve from the beginning #and any chance for relaxed six hours traveling back to my apartment are gone #I am lucky if I’ll still get to my apartment today #and I am spending a lot of time not thinking about the pink elephant (how much money a new car will cost) #bc the Volvo (while being the trustiest car imaginable) has over 400.000 km on his back #and keeping him going is cheap as long as he doesn’t have issues but now….

[thessalian]

Thess vs Sick Leave

I have words, and they are, “Oh, crap”.

I mean, good things are happening, don’t get me wrong. Today I got notification of phone appointments from both the referral service for the therapy / support I’m probably going to need as regards the whole chronic pain thing and from the office’s occupational health department. The self-referral sevice for the therapy etc was even sooner than I thought it was going to be, given the demand - we’re looking at 7th May.

For the occupational health appointment? 10th May. And that’s just the assessment. I can’t go back to work until they’ve figured out how to adequately arrange my work situation to not have me in blinding agony every day.

I know it’s for my own good. I mean, I still have pain (not counting the whole thing where my uterus is a rabid wolverine and we can’t do anything about that until at least June/July when hopefully COVID restrictions will have largely eased, and sinus issues from a plummet in barometric pressure, and the usual bullshit), but it’s more of a bearable all-around ache unless I overdo it. Which granted doesn’t take that much but even then the timing’s better overall. At work it’s generally, “I can stop for a couple of minutes but then I have to get back to work and I don’t get a real break until lunch / home-time”, rather than, “Look, let me get the dishes done and then I can sit down for a half-hour”. Not to mention the whole thing where I don’t have to be worried about how I’m going to get home from work after a particularly bad day when my right hip has seized up. (I actually looked up how much a taxi would cost. Enough to cover a weekly travelcard on public transport, just FYI.)

The thing is ... I do not do well when I’m not working. There’s all this guilt about how I’m not pulling my weight and I should be able to just manage and I’m just being a wuss. Yes, I know doctors are telling me that this is not wussiness. That does not help my brain any.

...I assume that’s what the therapy’s for.

FUCK.

Anyway, point is that I am at home, and I am staying here for just over another week until occupational health has made the call. I mean, sure, yes, good news is that this covers a D&D weekend where I have to run a blue dragon fight but at the same time, another whole week at home? Three days is already driving me a little bit crazy. I mean, I guess logistically I can do things like go out, run errands, stuff like that, but at the same time, a) too much travelling is, again, painful, and b) I feel like a malingerer if I’m not working when I’m supposed to be working and being out not-working is somehow worse. I mean, I have to anyway (I have to deposit a cheque the bank sent me because I keep forgetting, and get to the post office, and I probably need another shirt or two that I didn’t buy online so I can actually try it on and get the size right) but ... you know.

It’s stupid that I wish I hadn’t brought it up. I know all the intellectual reasons why it’s good that I did. I really do. Plus if it were any of my friends, I’d be advocating for them doing exactly what I’m doing now and reassuring them that they’re doing the right things. Just ... it’s me. I cope with pain by soldiering through it. I avoid a lot of grief, guilt and gaslighting that way, even if I cause myself a different kind of grief in the process.

And that, right there, is probably still exactly what the therapy is for. And again, fuck.

#Thess has health issues #Thess has fibromyalgia

[thesaltyace]

Ooooo boy

Guess what time it is?

RANT TIME!!!!

What to expect below the cut: barely controlled RAGE at my new neighbor regarding discussion of religion (Christianity in particular). Spoiler alert: I’m not Christian and have a negative knee-jerk reaction to most interactions with people who go out of their way to make sure you know they’re a Christian and/or assume that I am, too!

This interaction has been bothering me ALL FUCKING DAY. It only “clicked” for me as I was putting away groceries just a moment ago that I’m upset because of the way this neighbor gave me only two choices in the conversation: 1) agree with him because of the assumptions he aggressively placed on me, or 2) make the difficult decision to “other” myself to a person I met literally two minutes ago.

So here’s what happened. The spouse and I needed to go run some errands today. We decided to take our large vehicle (an SUV) which was still loaded up with a few things from the move (...three weeks later.... lmao) so the spouse went outside to quickly shove it all into the garage so we’d have an empty car ready to transport groceries and possibly a table (if we found what we were looking for).

I got distracted while he was out there but didn’t try to redirect myself because I knew he’d come back inside once the car was unloaded so that we could treat our dogs and leave. But after a while it dawned on me that he’d been outside a lot longer than needed to unload just a few things into the garage. As if on cue, he comes inside and mutters, “Well, I haven’t unloaded anything yet because I met the neighbor over to the right of us.... that’s been fun....”

Apparently the neighbor is outside washing his car and sees my spouse’s Star Wars tshirt and uses that as an opportunity to start a conversation. No big deal, sure, lots of people do that. Then he immediately lets my spouse know that he did NOT like the most recent trilogy. And as spouse tells me this I outwardly cringe. Because here’s the thing..... 1) you’re going to lead with that?? and 2) never has anyone said that to us and been talking about anything reasonable. It’s always about not liking the “PC culture” and “catering” to particular audiences (read: being a sexist and racist) and never anything like “whoa they really fucked over their actors of color wtf”. So that’s red flag number one, but of course I also acknowledge that I don’t have a lot of details about this dude or his opinions yet, so I’ll just treat this as one piece of the suspected puzzle and see how it turns out. “Strike one,” I think. 

But you and I both know where this is going, because liking the last Star Wars trilogy isn’t itself political but the reasons you don’t like the final Star Wars trilogy suuuuuuuuure are telling.

Anyway, because my spouse suffers from chronic politeness, he feels awkward unloading the car while the neighbor is trying to talk to him so he just.... stands there and listens. So I join him outside and almost single-handedly unload the entire car myself while the spouse continues to awkwardly talk with the neighbor. I don’t bother to introduce myself to the neighbor and he doesn’t really acknowledge my existence either, so I’m already mentally thinking, “Strike two.”

So the dude just keeps kind of talking at my spouse as he stands there awkwardly, trying to be polite and friendly but feeling that he’s not truly part of a conversation. And he’s right! I finished unloading the car, went inside to treat and crate the dogs, and returned to the car, signaling that we needed to go. The spouse tries to disengage, but the neighbor is very intent on talking to him about his Gaelic heritage. Oof. Dude, I know we wear kilts but we literally Do Not Care. We wear them because we like them. The fact that we each have some Scottish and/or Irish heritage is just a little bit of justification we use if we aren’t comfortable telling someone that we like them because they’re both gender-neutral and gender-wtf clothing.

So anyway, the neighbor who is already on Strike Two veers deep into “If you had started with zero strikes, this topic immediately bumps you up to Strike 10″ territory. He makes some comment about being related due to Gaelic ancestry, and then uses that to segue into, “Well, I mean, we’re all cousins really when you think about it! After the flood, you know, with Noah and then those families parted ways with different languages and drifted apart.... So yeah, we’re really just cousins, you, me, and the rest of the world!” And he just grins at us with the expectation that we agree.

Y’all I have said it before and I will say it again: I may never go back to being maskless in public. And it’s specifically because no one can see my facial expressions in situations like this, when I desperately want to leave the conversation without causing a scene but also can’t hide either my horror, disgust, or anger.

So, as someone who was raised in a Southern Baptist household and is now staunchly non-religious, two things went through my head:

1) .....If you believe that all humankind descended from Adam and Eve then... the flood is kind of irrelevant for determining if we’re all related, wouldn’t you say?

2) ...you REALLY just did the thing. The thing that until today I’ve not been able to adequately describe. The thing where you make the pompous assumption that of COURSE these perfect strangers I’m talking to are CHRISTIAN! Of COURSE they are! So I’m gonna talk to them as though I KNOW they are and as thought to be otherwise would be ABSURD!

So my spouse and I are both standing next to our car, staring at this man who’s wearing a smug asshole grin on his face, really proud of how “friendly” and “loving” he’s being, I’m sure. And spouse glances at me, probably hoping that I don’t tear this man’s face off and therefore break the peace. I glance back at him, trying to figure out if I do want to rip this man’s face off or if I’d rather go shopping for a table. 

And I decide that I’d rather shop for a table and not immediately torpedo the chance of hopefully peacefully avoiding this neighbor forever more without introducing animosity. So we laughed uneasily and I said, “We’ve really got to go if we want to get everything done before things close today,” then hoisted myself into my seat and shut the door. Spouse hopped in and the second his door shut we both shrieked a quiet shriek of “OMG WTF” and drove away.

But I’ve been chewing on this interaction ALL DAY and I’m like.... why am I so goddamn mad about this??? And I finally figured it out. It’s because this man left no room for me or my spouse to be anyone other than who he assumed we are. 

He assumed that we were 1) Christian and 2) agreed with him. 

I won’t speak for my spouse, as his relationship with religion is more complicated than my own, but I 1) am not and 2) do not.

He crowded out who we actually are to make room for who he thinks we should be, and that will NEVER be okay with me. I’ve fought against being who others want or tell me to be my entire goddamn life, and that is why this is so upsetting to me.

We could either agree with him (or decline to disagree - same effect on the neighbor’s end) and keep the peace.

Or we could “other” ourselves and make it known that we aren’t the “good” people he assumes we are.

Because here’s the thing - never have I met someone who assumes I’m Christian and is 100% okay and nonproblematic when they find out (or I tell them) that I’m not. There’s always disappointment or confusion or outright hostility. 

And that means that othering ourselves to this complete stranger who lives next door to us isn’t safe and puts us at risk of making our existence here a living hell. Because we don’t know what kind of person he is, but based on our very brief interactions thus far I can probably guess. 

I am still so goddamn mad about this. And it’s interactions like these that make it so incredibly difficult for me to try to remain neutral or unbothered in situations where I must interact with overt Christianity bullshit. The people who are the most loud and pushy about it, the people who are the most insistent that of COURSE anyone worth interacting with is Christian, are exactly the types of Christians that make me want to run screaming from the room.

#bad neighbor #christians make me so fucking uncomfortable #and its the very specific kind of christianity that exists here in the US #and especially in the south #it's the fucking worst #omg and I never told y'all how one of my spouse's colleagues called us 'christ-like' #for delivering a hot meal and fresh baked bread to them #like.... we delivered that to everyone in the department as a nice gesture when the pandemic began #and we were trying to find ways to stay connected #oh he also said that about me making masks for everyone around the same time #I'm like....I want the people my spouse works with to be safe and healthy?? #and it made me so fucking uncomfortable to be 'lauded' as 'christ-like' because I'm like.... #do NOT compare me to your religious figure #do NOT #it's bullshit and feels so performative just STOP #ughhhhhhhhhhhh

[diminuel]

I wasn’t all that fond of 15x10 while I watched it yesterday. I loved the premise and Garth, but I think it was just a bit too over the top for me. The placement of this episode within the greater context of it being the final episode and following the rather gloomy previous episode just made it feel a bit off. That aside, I just didn’t enjoy watching it all that much even though I could appreciate what we were given.

But I’m giving it another rewatch and another chance! I’d love to hear your thoughts too, whether you agree or disagree with my reactions. :D

It takes hardly any time for us to notice something completely amiss and they don’t even hide it: a classical piece of music accompanying a bloody fight between two monsters. Everyone is going to notice that this isn’t quite right, which then guides over into the next thought: the editing makes or breaks a scene. I think that’s the overall theme I took away from this episode. Metatron said that God posted the first draft and we’ve seen both Becky and Metatron edit God’s writing. The first conclusion we could draw is that God is not “editing” Sam and Dean’s story. But actually that doesn’t make a lot of sense because he couldn’t see Sam and Dean before either and they were fine. It’s maybe that he over-edits it. He throws problems in their ways that are... well, kind of what Becky wanted; the everday issues. Them dealing with laundry all day. This is the stuff we write, ad absurdum. And with monsters.

So the theory I’m going with right now is that Chuck is editing, just differently than before.

One preliminary thought regarding Garth: Were there no consequences to the Grace he had swallowed during AU Michael’s weird monster plan? What happened to that monster plan in general? Michael seems to be very bad at stragegizing.......

Dean’ shopping: The shop is called Berens’ quick trip. Berens is always sending us on a trip, though I think this one was Dabb’s fever dream. *lol* Lots of music for what is basically just showing Dean shopping. We see the guy giving Dean a ticket through the window but Dean’s oblivious, too focused on shopping. (Two six packs of beer. This might either show Dean indulging or Dean stocking up for Cas, not that Cas wants beer usually.) 

Dean knows the store attendant by name, so I guess this is a place he goes to often, though I doubt it’s in Lebanon because of the high rises in the background? 

What did Dean buy? Some beer, a magazine, some chips, something sweet he’s eating... How did that amount to over 40$? Why did he go buy that? Why not go to a proper store and buy proper food? Just beer and snacks? As someone who has to do her own shopping now this seems inefficient. (And my shopping center is in 5 minutes walking distance. *lol*) Also, I think I’ve seen people mention that the magazine is a cooking or baking magazine?

Also, here’s the first instance we have of Dean’s teeth hurting. Just stop eating the chocolate you silly man.

I have no compassion for Dean whining about getting a ticket. He’s not allowed to park there. Rules apply for you too, Mr. Winchester. I don’t like people who think they can do what they want. *thinks back to young snobby looking BMW driver who parked in the middle of a square in front of a bank and who got a ticket* *Schadenfreude* (That’s the kind of person I am. I like people who think rules don’t apply for them to be punished by the law.)

Sam’s scene in the kitchen: I assume it was Dean who had started cooking and then just walked away to get some more shopping done. This is merely based on my assumption that Sam doesn’t cook. We know that Sam sometimes does kinda stupid things like blowing on paper to make the fire go out... Touching things straight out of the oven and putting his hands on a hot pot are pretty thoughtless. And he’s clumsy apparently.

Also why the heck would he pull the pot from the stove? It wasn’t even boiling over. Just lower the temperature. Have you never been in a kitchen before, dude? And you’re not even cleaning up after yourself?

Dean and Sam discussing their issues: So Sam never trips? Both noticed right away that this was weird. Sam looks so offended. Like “I’m Sam Fucking Winchester, I don’t trip!”?

Also, did Sam say “dinner”? Is it already evening and they’ve just been hit with “normal person-itis” now? I see Sam’s watch but I can’t decipher it right. It it 5:35? What time of the year is it in canon? I was still light outside when Dean was shopping.

In the car on the way to Garth: A look, it’s dark now, which suppors the “they just randomly got hit with normal people problems. The music for this scene is also unusual. 

I’m annoyed that Cas is in heaven. Why. Why is he up there? Why does SPN always stash Cas out of the way with random stuff? It would have been nice if there had been a phone call or something with Cas checking in or just a mention that Dean was driving back from dropping Cas off at the angel gate or whatever. It takes so little, makes such an impact for me. This? Sorry. It’s just not enough for me.

Why is the car giving up the ghost? Especially in such a weird way? Isn’t Dean constantly working on the Impala? This is not normal people problems either.

At Garth’s: So Sam and Dean walked like 16km? Couldn’t they have taken public transport OR a taxi like normal people...? Or call road assistance or Garth at least? I don’t know what it’s like in the US but that seems a bit extra, even for Sam and Dean.

Garth and Bess have an old style phone in their house, which is a random remark but it’s a nice deco object.

Garth’s Twins: I don’t quite understand why Garth calls the twins Sam and Castiel. What kind of connection does Garth have to Cas? Why not Sam and Dean? If only one of the brothers, why Sam? He has more of a connection to Dean after all? I don’t get it. Dabb just liking it when people prefer Sam and Dean has to roll his eyes at it? :/

Again with the weird, out of place music when they have a look at Bess’ cousin.

Dean and Garth: The dramatic music when Dean steps into the dentist’s room. *lol* And then his disquieted “you’re very strong” when Garth forced him. I think since Garth treats werewolves who might also have an aversion to the dentist, he’d be used having to use a bit of force *lol* Besides. I really love getting insight into how monsters deal with “normal people problems” because they have them too. It’s a shame that we don’t see more of that side to monsters. We only see those monsters who mess up after all, rarely those who try to blend in. 

I might not know much about dentistry but I only had cotton stuffed into my bleeding mouth like that when I got my wisdom teeth out in an operation. Sure, I bleed a bit when I have appointment but not like that??? Just what did Garth do? Replace Dean’s teeth with werewolf teeth? *lol*

Sam and Bess: Dramatic music continues when Bess hands Sam the “cure” drink. It kind of frames the scenes as dangerous and at least it put me slightly on “confused edge” because the music made me think I couldn’t trust Garth and Bess. Sam’s struggles are kinda... over the top. I mean, we’ve seen Dean eat ghost pepper jerky and suffer, but Sam is suffering kinda ridiculously, like he’s been hit by a curse or something (i.e. still like he’s in the middle of a battle against some monster). Ew. Sam wiping his tongue on the arm he’s been sneezing and snotting into. Uff.

The tap dancing: Nice but I don’t really see the point in it >w< I guess normal people have normal funky dreams. And I guess Dean dreams of joyful things like dancing and having FOR ONCE gentle interactions with a lamp instead of always smashing them.

Talking about God and being heroes in a story: I like Garths’ approach to this topic and that he’s much more aware of story structures than the Winchesters seem to be. Why does Dean need a colonoscopy? (Angsty thought: does he have cancer...? Can werewolves smell it? Is that how it’s gonna end? Normal people problem killing Dean? Nope.)

Scene with the cousin: Poor Sam, he looks so upset when his “gentle request and puppy eyes” approach didn’t work. Though I like that it’s Bess who gets the guy to talk (like it’s Garth who gets the job done later on). I really like that monsters have normal people problems too. And it seems like the Winchesters are still very surprised about that.

Sam and Dean “job”: I think they’re being idiots here. Not only do they lack any evidence that the monsters who watch those fights are harming people, so they just kill them because they’re monsters? Also, it seems very unwise for two people alone to take on how many monsters?? No damn research done at all. And on top of that it seems really unwise to go on a case when they don’t know what else “normal people problems” entails while hunting. At least Sam might have been alarmed due to his sudden clumsiness... Just, stupid move on the Winchesters’ part. 

Side note: Sam doesn’t seem to be comfortable saying anything at all. He still seems to be shocked by the werewolf’s diss.

Dean continues to be kinda dumb and I don’t exactly get why. They don’t know what they’re walking into, so they definitely need to be prepared and I can think of several examples where he was prepared for anything. And now that he can’t be sure of his “luck” he’s not gonna think twice about it? And him munching his grilled cheese, talking with his mouth full and “playing” with the gun wasn’t super endearing to me. Sorry, I know many found it cute *lol* And who vomits that loudly...? I mean... ew.

I liked that Dean tried to bluff his way out of the situation and maybe it would have worked in another situation... 

Dean and Sam in cages: It makes no sense that not being able to pick locks is part of normal people problems because I’m sure they learnt how to pick locks over the years. So this, and their inability to fight later on (another thing they’ve learnt) just makes it clear that Chuck didn’t just remove them from “hero” status, but took away more than just their special skills.

Dean’s entire heartfelt speech doesn’t work either, neither on Sam or Dean, nor on the audience both because of how it’s filmed (no particular clear shot of Dean’s face and Sam constantly looking uncomfortable) and the variation of Dean’s theme.

What’s with Dean’s throat? I don’t understand what he said.

Garth saves the day: Dean’s awed “you are so strong” is cute! Why has he never been in awe of Cas’ strenght? Cas lifted a 1t anvil once and Dean didn’t even look at him amorously for it. 

Man, there are a couple things I don’t understand here! Wish I had subtitles because I’ll probably only get what “we’re gotta get out of here blblblbl monstersquad” or “the monster squad bbbüb the good guys” means.

I think they might still be able to fight but whatever “hero” bonus they had was deleted and now it IS almost impossible to just knock out a monster. They did have more trouble in earlier seasons before they could just easily stick an angelblade into every monster and not even break much of a sweat. But the whole fight sequence is just a little bit too ridiculous for me...

Back at Garth’s home: The whole “this Cas keeps looking at me weird” scene is my highlight. I wonder if now that Dean and Cas are no longer locked into their defined roles (though I’m not sure if Chuck has written them with a specific dynamic, since he never seems to make use of Cas) Dean will notice more about Cas too ;D Though of course Dean does notice the way Cas looks at him (”the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid” as a classic example). But still, maybe something to think about. Since a story does come with particular characters dynamics between heros and their supporting characters.

Dean saying that he could be an awesome dancer if he wanted to be is nice. The only thing he lacks is a partner to dance with. Though... He doesn’t lack a partner since he has Cas back now. He just needs to make the first move ;3

Baby clearly doesn’t want to go to Alaska. *lol*

Okay, that was a long post again, not structured at all, not edited, and it still took me multiple days to rewatch and type this up! Haha

#Supernatural #spoilers #15x10 spoilers

[mvdipetsch]

Outside of London; A Guide.

Hello, friends! I think there’s a semi-substantial amount of roleplays based around England, but honestly 90% of them are in London and while that’s great, England is made up of a lot of cities and I figured I’d show some #representation. 

In this guide we cover: Housing in England, location and travel! 

Disclaimer: This is based off of my experience and the experience of those around me. Most of my knowledge is concentrated around Birmingham, as that is where I grew up, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Stoke-on-Trent, Blackpool and Liverpool so I feel that I have a semi-decent shot at helping out. 

If you found this guide helpful, please reblog this as it helps to show me that there is interest and I’m not just shouting into a void. If you have any suggestions or comments about things I could/should cover in these guides please let me know! Any specific questions? Shoot me an ask and I’ll do my best to help you out. 

Location, Location, Location. 

England is divided into counties. There many of them, and realistically they don’t affect anything. All it really means is that your resources (police, fire, ambulance, charities, etc.) are organised by that one area. For instance - the buses in my city are all organised by Network West Midlands. They deal with every bus service (if it’s an NXBus) in the West Midlands. Ultimately, it doesn’t really affect anything. 

From my city to my university, it’s a 3-ish hour drive. That is a long drive. I know some people regard that as nothing, but when everything is so close together, it’s a lot. It’s not really a drive that people would make a lot - this is why train transport (while not that big) tends to be used to get from city to city. 

Only really in the inner cities are things that expensive. When you move away from the main city, things can get pretty affordable, but the inner city is still often really accessible via bus, driving or even train. When I’m at my boyfriend’s I’ll get the bus into the city centre, but when I’m at my mom’s sometimes it’s quicker to just jump on a train. Train tickets are also pretty inexpensive if you’re moving within the city. It’s when you’re heading to smaller cities that the problems arise. For instance, I can get to London for under £10, and to Liverpool for not much more. However, for me to get from Birmingham (a major city) to my University (a not-so-major city of about 200k) it’s £60+ with a change. On coach, it’s £14 with a change + it takes 5-ish hours (there are direct coaches that cost £30~ which is still significantly cheaper than the train) University students will commonly take a coach to and from their university to their hometown if it’s ridiculously priced. 

The higher north you go, typically the cheaper it is. This is dependent upon where in that city you are, but the general consensus is that north = cheaper. Obviously if you’re in Manchester city centre then it’s going to be a bit more pricey, but the general cost of living / food / etc. is seen to be cheaper the more north you go. A good way to judge how expensive a place is, is by how much the bus fare is. Birmingham bus fare is £4.00 for a daysaver (one ticket, on the bus as much as you like) but when I was in Liverpool I paid something like £1.20 for an U18 ticket. That’s a big difference. (For reference - Birmingham is the smack-bang middle of England. Liverpool is about 2 hours north, near Manchester.) 

Typically, when it comes to travelling; 

Driving

Cars in the UK are predominantly manual (with a gear stick) but we can still get automatic cars. Manual cars are also cheaper than automatic and you can drive an automatic with a manual license but you cannot drive a manual with an automatic license. 

My mom lives seven minutes from her work (she timed it, she’s got no life) but there are people who live up to thirty minutes away and have to take the motorway. This means that if there’s a massive accident, you can sit there for six hours, bored out of your skull

It’s also worth saying that if you live in a/the city centre, you’re not taking your car to work. It’s ridiculously expensive and parking is so few and far between, it’s really not worth it. People can and do drive, but plenty of people will also opt for a train or bus.

Buses

If you don’t drive the bus is often a very viable option. Buses will commonly run from 6:30/7 until 11:30/12 (at least where I am) but you can get night buses or buses that run later, they’re just a bit rare. 

Students (in college or secondary school, typically) are VERY common on buses. As in public buses. Unless someone has an impairment and go to a special school suited to their needs, you make your own way. Which often means that you jump on that bus with every man and his dog. 

Sunday service is real and it’s a pain in the arse. Buses that run every 10-ish minutes during the week drop to 20 between 9 and 5 and then drop to every 30 minutes after that (sometimes even every hour.) This means that if you miss your bus... you can be waiting for a very long time. 

Trains

Train’s are far more common for longer commutes. Also trains aren’t really that common for secondary school students (they either get dropped off in a car, walk or take the bus) but college students can and do take the train. My best friend takes an hour’s train ride to and from her college every day, and a lot of my teachers will get the train to college (my college is in the city centre, so it’s pretty logical.) Regardless, trains aren’t as common. 

Housing

Houses in England are attached. It is rare that you will see detached (stand alone) houses. Most houses will share their walls with their neighbours, unless they’re the end house in which case they’re called “semi-detached” cause... only half of them is attached. That tends to mean that if your neighbours have a baby, you can hear them crying. You can hear when the tv is too loud and all that kind of stuff. 

When you move out, there tends to be a few options in terms of who actually owns where you live. The options normally are:

Council. 

You sign up on the website, the council give you a priority rating and a set amount of points. These points are determined by the people in your household and your needs. A single mother with two kids will get more points than a single person with no dependants.

There is also a ‘bedroom’ tax, which states that you have to pay a tax if you live in a council property and are seen as having more bedrooms than you need. If, for instance you have two children of opposite genders that are aged seven and three, you have to pay extra tax for that third bedroom because it’s deemed as unnecessary. However if you have two children and they’re of different genders and one of them is over the age of ten (10) then you do not have to pay the tax. If they are of the same gender, then it is until one of them is sixteen (16).

Council and Housing Associations are most beneficial to those who are receiving benefits or are not working enough to cover rent by themselves. 

Housing Association

The way a housing association works is effectively the same as a landlord and the council. You apply on the council website for the aforementioned points and begin to bid on properties. When this happens, you may bid on a property that happens to be owned by a HA. The HA then acts as your landlord. HAs are pretty okay, dependent upon the area + such. When you live in a HA, any housing benefit you receive will immediately be paid from the council to the HA. This can cause issues if your money gets fucked up (which is more common than not because the housing system in the UK is BROKEN.) 

Private Rent

Private is when you have a landlord. I mean, that’s pretty self-explanatory really. You have an issue? Call the landlord. I’ve never had a landlord so I can’t really comment much on this. I will say that most landlords likely won’t accept housing benefit as a form of payment.

Private own. 

This is just the whole mortgage, thing. You know how this goes. 

There are a few different types of housing options when it comes to England and I’d imagine that this is pretty true for up and down the city.

Blocks of flats.

Blocks of flats are huge high-rises. They’re not as common anymore but there are still quite a few knocking about. If you remember the tragedy of Grenfell Tower, that was a high-rise. 

Blocks of flats can be owned by the local council or be privately rented. I’ve never lived in a flat, so my knowledge isn’t the best. They all tend to have names and there’s normally at least two together. 

A ‘flat’ is basically an apartment. So it’s a bunch of different flats (which, in high rises, commonly have two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom) High rises have a lot of flats in them. Commonly there’s at least 13 floors, with between around four and six flats per floor. So you can get a lot of people in a high rise. 

Maisonette. 

A maisonette looks like a wide house. It’s normally one to two floors, with flats that have three (or more) bedrooms. Maisonettes are considerably bigger, in terms of the flats inside, and consist of maybe two flats per floor. Maisonettes can also be council, privately rented or housing association. 

Bungalow.

A bungalow is a home without any stairs. They can be council, privately rented or privately owned. Bungalows aren’t that common anymore, but they’re great for people who have difficulty with stairs and such. Also most bungalows are actually pretty decent sizes too. 

Houses.

Houses in the UK are broken down into one of three categories:

Detached

Semi-Detached

Attached

This is literally just based upon how many of your walls are shared with your neighbour. Detached houses are really uncommon in the UK and are usually found in richer areas. Semi-detached is mainly just the house at the end of your street, so semi-detached and attached are the main two. 

Also it’s pretty common that you only have windows of two of the four house walls. Even if you’re in a semi-detached house, you’ll only have front and back windows. 

Houses can be privately owned, privately rented, housing association or council.

Most houses follow a similar layout. Typically three bedrooms, with either one bathroom or a room just for the toilet + then the bathroom (with a bath + sink + such.) It’s also super common for one room to be a ‘box room’ which is normally pretty small. My room at my mom’s house is the ‘box room’ and it fits a 3/4 bed, a chest of draws, and a metal rack that I use as a bookshelf. There is not a lot of room in there. 

And there you have it! I think I covered most things regarding transport and housing in the UK, and I really hope that it was as informative as possible. Stay groovy, my dudes. 

#rpt #rpc #rph #CONTENT. #WH : LOCATIONS. #WRITING HELP.

[traveldiar]

8th July: 

I just moved out from Filaretai hostel and heading towards the station with all my bags. It is a big day today. Sun was shining and gently tickling my skin. Not even one dark cloud in the sky. That's the day when I suppose submit all my paperwork for Japanese visa and then head home to the deep countryside. I was bloody nervous. There was so many what if’s running in my head. That was a day where everything or nothing could go wrong.

Lucky me, Vilnius train station has a storage place, so I don't have to drag all my luggage to the embassy.

After dropping off my luggage, I was going with public transport towards the embassy… 2 hours earlier than I suppose to. First thing after I got off the bus, I went straight to the embassy. It started to get cloudy, and cold.

I am standing in front of the embassy gate, is raining. I am looking at it, and getting myself mentally ready. Meanwhile calming myself down, by claiming "There is no reason to decline me, my papers are spotless”, at least that’s what I thought.

After staring at the gate for a while, I realized that there is still 1,5 hour to kill. What now? On the way here I saw a supermarket. So then, let's go shopping.

I was strolling around a shop for 10 minutes. I could not decide what to buy. What I end up buying was a local pastry and pack of cigarettes. The strange choice isn't?

When I looked at the clock there was still more than an hour. Waiting was driving me crazy! I was so restless! But I need to do something… Should I get some coffee? probably… The nearest coffee place was 500 meter away. Well, I do have time.

So I went to the coffee place, I got some locally brewed fancy cappuccino, and tried enjoying myself, but the anxiety was killing me. I had a lot to lose! All the flights are booked, all the arrangements in Japan were made. I did spend a lot of money! I even quit my job for that!

After spending some time in the cafe, It was almost time to go. When I get to the embassy, it was still minutes too early for my appointment. Well, fuck it, let's go in. What happens, that happens! There is the only way, and that's forward.

So, I rang the doorbell on the gate, and the gate opened! I went to the front gate. The security guard opened. In front of me, there was a full-body scanner. I stepped through, and it started beeping! The first thought in my head " I don't have any guns!" I was so glad, that I didn't say out loud…

The secretary through the glass-covered counter asked me to step forward. The first question she asked:

Secretary: - Do I have all my papers?

With trembling voice I answered:

Me: - yes!

Awkwardly, I started to unload all the papers. She stopped me because I had to fill up some other forms first. At that moment I was very confused. It was just a paper with my name and purpose of visit. But I couldn't find out where to even write my name.

Her voice softened, and she started to point with the finger, where and what to fill up. I felt like the first-grader, who just learned how to write. It was quite embarrassing when I think about it.

Then she asked for my papers. I gave her all had from my yellow transparent envelope. With a confused look,  started to go through my flight details. She got even more confused when she looked at other papers, such as the list of activities  ( a paper I had to fill up, to show what I am going to in Japan ). She started to ask questions, such:

Secretary: -  Where is written means of transport in Japan? Where is the date of entry?,  Where is the port of exit?. 

In my head “Did I completely misunderstood, a whole form?”, “Do I have re-do everything, as kindly ask for another appointment?”. My anxiety was pilling up, and my hands were trembling. 

The secretary, with a kind voice, asked me to sit down and wait until she will go through all the papers. 5 minutes later, she came back and asked to come to the counter. In my head " It definitely gets declined". The secretary started to go through the papers and gave me a pen at the same time.

Secretary: - If you can correct, this and this point, and write down the entry and exit dates, and will be fine. But I don't understand your bank statement! I am not sure if the ambassador will accept it. Now sit down and wait for Ambassador.

A few minutes later, short, timid Japanese guy came out and called out my name.

Ambassador: -  Miss Janina, I understand you want to apply for one year visa to Japan".

Me: -  Yes sir.

He pointed to the door which led to a semi office sitting area. He apologized for his English, and there is no assistant today, who can help to interpret. He asked for my reasons why I want to go to Japan. We had a very nice chat for 10 minutes.  he said, that all my papers are in order, but he can't accept my bank statement. It has to be written by the bank officials, that I have enough money, and stamped. Otherwise, he has no problem to issue by this Friday.

I left the office and started googling for the nearest office of my bank branch, here In Vilnius. I asked the secretary, yo get my passport, so I can go to the bank to get a statement. She agreed, but she was in doubt if I will ever come back.

I left the embassy and started heading towards Danske bank office I saw on google maps. It was raining, but I didn't care, I had to get that statement. It was around 3 km, but I never walked that fast, I didn't even have time to look up If any buses were going that direction. I kept walking. At the same time, I was so happy, because I almost have a visa! Almost there!

The first Danske bank office I reached, it turned out to be a headquarters. Damm… I saw on the map, there was another office 700 meters away. Rushed over there! Damm it looks like another strange office. I didn't resemble a bank at all. Well, let's ask. I went to the first person I noticed at the counter, and I asked with a desperate voice:

Me: - Hello, do you serve the customers here? Right?

Receptionist:- yes.  

Me: - Is there is anyone who can print an official bank statement regarding my account balance?

Receptionist:- Yes, wait a moment over there.

She pointed to the furthest cover in the room, with few chairs. A few moments later she made a call. 

Receptionist:- Hello, there is someone to meet you. Can you come down for a moment?

Meanwhile, I was staring in empty space, calming my self down, that everything is going to be ok. Time was going slower with every second. Waiting was becoming unbearable... All I wanted was to get it done and return to the embassy and get it over with. My head different questions were running through with no answers. „ Will get the statement? Will I return on time? Will I get visa!!?“At that moment it seemed hours have passed since I sit down. I am about to look at my phone to check the time. At that exact moment, I hear steps, coming down the stairs. It was a blond message woman, coming towards me.

Women: - Are you waiting for me?

Me: - Yes.

Women: - Let's go to my office.

We started going towards stairs, and small relief inside me, "Just, maybe I will get this over finally!" I started to explain my situation. Immediately she cut me short in my speech.

Secretary: - I am sorry, I can¨t help you, since your account is in Denmark, I am not allowed to look at foreign bank accounts, even it is the same branch.

At that moment I felt even more desperate. I tanked for her effort and wished her a  good day. In my mind, I was trying not to panic and calmly asses the situation. The more I thought the more I came to the conclusion that I have the only option was left. I NEED TO CALL, TO MY BANK IN DENMARK!

I went to nearby shopping centre, so I can sit down somewhere. Before entering the building I started calling my bank in Denmark. It took at least 20 minutes maybe even more to reach them. The line was busy. Probably a lot of people were trying to solve their issues with the bank too. After endless waiting finally, someone end of the line picked up. I managed to talk with customer service, they agreed to write a statement for me. I would get the next morning.   That's when I was finally relieved… I contacted the embassy and agreed to bring the bank statement the next morning. Great!

Finally, I can be at ease! But wait... where I am going to sleep tonight? I have checked out from the hostel already... Ummm, YEAH...

#Japan #japanese embassy #stress #anxiety #visa #working holiday visa

[momo-de-avis]

Articles like these is what happens when a city is gentrified, apparently.

I mean, mind you. Foreign artists coming into Lisbon (actually, into Portugal, but apparently the whole country is made of one single city) is a positive thing. It widens perspective, it allows communication between cultures and creates speeches and debate around not only multicultural things but also in artistic view. It also creates a more positive speculation in the market for portuguese artists to be put side-to-side with artists who have a better market value, considering our market value is very low (a good book on it is this on, it might be slightly outdated as it’s from 2013 but it does give you an insight of what the portuguese art market looks like by itself without an outside speculation).

It is a positive thing.

It’s just everything else in this article that, to me, it’s out of this world.

I mean, I am very critical of the art market and the art world these days. Anyone who knows anything about art history knows that art and politics are intertwined heavily, but recently the art market has spread so much that it seems it created to opposite poles: one political and one completely absent-minded from the world. (And take into account that I’m speaking from my own social ground. The kind of artistic work I’ve been watching more closely in america, for example, is very political and insanely good.) And these two spheres seem to be distancing themselves more and more. How one and the other work in the art market is a completely different subject that I’m not qualified to analyze, honestly, but I can put my mind on a thing or two regarding one of these poles. 

And as a portuguese working in Lisbon, while I find it positive that foreign artists are getting more opportunities and attracted to this city, I can also attest that portuguese artists, on the other hand, are not.

And this is not because they do are differently or whatever. It’s because of what everything this article states as “an opportunity”, to us, it’s actually a problem. It was this paragraph that made me grind my gears:

Besides a more clement weather, the picturesque views, and abundant sunlight, Lisbon also offers more affordable rents for housing and artist studios. While an individual studio in Berlin might set an artist back an average of €400 a month, a similar option in Lisbon has a monthly rent of €200-250, which also helps explain the appeal of the Portuguese capital for young creatives

Rent is not affordable. At all. In the last couple of years, rent in Lisbon has gone up to an average of 800€ in a country with a minimum wage of 500€. More people are moving out of Lisbon to the periphery and you can ask any lisboner about it they will tell you that the only people who live in Lisbon are practically foreigners (and I’m sorry, artnet news, quoting Web Summit as an example just makes it worse. A lot of start-ups and foreign companies found their business here - some even acquiring headquarters in Avenida da Liberdade, where the average cost is millions - because of tax benefits. Also there are people coming from countries with an average income of over 1200€ that ran businesses there and have a network estimated in millions, they literally just move it from one place to another. It’s just... not even remotely comparable).

So, yeah, a studio for around 200-250€ a month sounds cheap if you live in it. Also, it’s not really common to find a studio that cheap, and it’s usually not a studio at all - it’s converted garages or even stores. Some portuguese artists do afford studios for less than 200€ a month because they signed up for past programs that promoted these “arts center” in the middle of the city back in the 90s that were eventually left to die (in Alvalade, Campo Grande, for example). If you read this book, most artists who have these cheap studios you mention had to spend more than they asked for adapting the spaces because they are not studios, they are emptied spaces. And they all complain of the same thing: it’s all they can get.

Lisbon is heavily gentrified. A bunch of celebrities are buying houses here. Just this month Michael Fassbender acquired a 2mil € house in Alfama, a district that is known for being the home of Fade and one of the poorest quarters in Lisbon, but for the past few years, because it is “oh so traditional”, entire buildings are being emptied, their inhabitants, who have lived there their whole lives, are being put on the streets and given one year to find somewhere else, to convert these houses into hostels. These are poor, old people who have lived there all their lives and who pay 40€ of rent because they get a 200-300€ pension of which they can barely live of. And they are being kicked out for 2mil houses for celebrities. The touristic boom is ruining the city. Public transportation is worse than ever, complaints filed against it have hit a record, and even last year, as unprepared as the city was, the number of tourists was so large the metro ran out of tickets. A person who takes the train to Cascais or Estoril every day to work can take up to 2h to take a ticket or buy their pass because queues are that long and the subway is impossible to ride, with masses of people at every hour (also attracting muggers).

With artists almost “forced” to believe they need a studio to work in but being portuguese being also unable to afford a simple rent, portuguese artists are in a huge disadvantage. They get less opportunity than one who comes form the outside with a built portfolio and a rented out studio in the city. And for non-artists, like me, who want to work in the field, the only opportunity is non-paid internships, because the market is saturated.

And there’s also another problem that the artists Pier Paolo Calzolari highlights in the article:

There is something about the quality of the light that reminds me of Venice, where I grew up. But there’s something else in Lisbon that reminds me of Venice, which is how much and how fast the city is changing. Growing up in Venice in the 1940s, there was barely any tourism. That changed suddenly in the 1960s, when tourism came to the city and became the biggest business in Venice, forcing locals to move away, as living there had become too expensive. Sadly, I’m starting to notice that the same is happening in Lisbon. It’s like a virus, and I’m starting to see a lot of people trying to make fast money here, with massive real-estate speculation developing here.

(...)  In terms of fabricators and materials, I’ve felt that many artisans have left Lisbon, because of gentrification, and some materials, like wood and metal, have been hard to find due to the crisis first and then because of prices getting higher due to speculation. So on occasions, yes, I have found difficulty in fabricating works.

Yeah.

Also, fuck you Barateiro for saying this:

The art scene is Portugal is less elitist than before, but we still need the creation of a structure that supports artists and all the precarious workers that have made this economic recovery possible.

You mean there are more things happening other than galleries and whatnot, because galleries are pretty much as elitist as ever, if not more. 

Lisbon is a great opportunity for wealthy, upper class europeans. Anything below that, it’s hell. 

#url #i hate this shit

[coolandreezie]

The Terrible Bargain We Have Regretfully Struck Posted by Melissa McEwan at Friday, August 14, 2009   [Trigger warning.]

Despite feminists' reputation, and contra my own individual reputation cultivated over five years of public opinion-making, I am not a man-hater.

If I played by misogynists' rules, specifically the one that dictates it only takes one woman doing one Mean or Duplicitous or Disrespectful or Unlawful or otherwise Bad Thing to justify hatred of all women, I would have plenty of justification for hating men, if I were inclined to do that sort of thing.

Most of my threatening hate mail comes from men. The most unrelentingly trouble-making trolls have always been men. I've been cat-called and cow-called from moving vehicles countless times, and subjected to other forms of street harassment, and sexually harassed at work, always by men. I have been sexually assaulted—if one includes rape, attempted rape, unsolicited touching of breasts, buttocks, and/or genitals, nonconsensual frottage on public transportation, and flashing—by dozens of people during my lifetime, some known to me, some strangers, all men.

But I don't hate men, because I play by different rules. In fact, there are men in this world whom I love quite a lot.

There are also individual men in this world I would say I probably hate, or something close, men who I hold in unfathomable contempt, but it is not because they are men.

No, I don't hate men.

It would, however, be fair to say that I don't easily trust them.

My mistrust is not, as one might expect, primarily a result of the violent acts done on my body, nor the vicious humiliations done to my dignity. It is, instead, born of the multitude of mundane betrayals that mark my every relationship with a man—the casual rape joke, the use of a female slur, the careless demonization of the feminine in everyday conversation, the accusations of overreaction, the eyerolling and exasperated sighs in response to polite requests to please not use misogynist epithets in my presence or to please use non-gendered language ("humankind").

There are the insidious assumptions guiding our interactions—the supposition that I will regard being exceptionalized as a compliment ("you're not like those other women"), and the presumption that I am an ally against certain kinds of women. Surely, we're all in agreement that Britney Spears is a dirty slut who deserves nothing but a steady stream of misogynist vitriol whenever her name is mentioned, right? Always the subtle pressure to abandon my principles to trash this woman or that woman, as if I'll never twig to the reality that there's always a justification for unleashing the misogyny, for hating a woman in ways reserved only for women. I am exhorted to join in the cruel revelry, and when I refuse, suddenly the target is on my back. And so it goes.

There are the jokes about women, about wives, about mothers, about raising daughters, about female bosses. They are told in my presence by men who are meant to care about me, just to get a rise out of me, as though I am meant to find funny a reminder of my second-class status. I am meant to ignore that this is a bullying tactic, that the men telling these jokes derive their amusement specifically from knowing they upset me, piss me off, hurt me. They tell them and I can laugh, and they can thus feel superior, or I can not laugh, and they can thus feel superior. Heads they win, tails I lose. I am used as a prop in an ongoing game of patriarchal posturing, and then I am meant to believe it is true when some of the men who enjoy this sport, in which I am their pawn, tell me, "I love you." I love you, my daughter. I love you, my niece. I love you, my friend. I am meant to trust these words.

There are the occasions that men—intellectual men, clever men, engaged men—insist on playing devil's advocate, desirous of a debate on some aspect of feminist theory or reproductive rights or some other subject generally filed under the heading: Women's Issues. These intellectual, clever, engaged men want to endlessly probe my argument for weaknesses, want to wrestle over details, want to argue just for fun—and they wonder, these intellectual, clever, engaged men, why my voice keeps raising and why my face is flushed and why, after an hour of fighting my corner, hot tears burn the corners of my eyes. Why do you have to take this stuff so personally? ask the intellectual, clever, and engaged men, who have never considered that the content of the abstract exercise that's so much fun for them is the stuff of my life.

There is the perplexity at my fury that my life experience is not considered more relevant than the opinionated pronouncements of men who make a pastime of informal observation, like womanhood is an exotic locale which provides magnificent fodder for the amateur ethnographer. And there is the haughty dismissal of my assertion that being on the outside looking in doesn't make one more objective; it merely provides a different perspective.

There are the persistent, tiresome pronouncements of similitude between men's and women's experiences, the belligerent insistence that handsome men are objectified by women, too! that women pinch men's butts sometimes, too! that men are expected to look a certain way at work, too! that women rape, too! and other equivalencies that conveniently and stupidly ignore institutional inequities that mean X rarely equals Y. And there are the long-suffering groans that meet any attempt to contextualize sexism and refute the idea that such indignities, though grim they all may be, are not necessarily equally oppressive.

There are the stereotypes—oh, the abundant stereotypes!—about women, not me, of course, but other women, those women with their bad driving and their relentless shopping habits and their PMS and their disgusting vanity and their inability to stop talking and their disinterest in Important Things and their trying to trap men and their getting pregnant on purpose and their false rape accusations and their being bitches sluts whores cunts… And I am expected to nod in agreement, and I am nudged and admonished to agree. I am expected to say these things are not true of me, but are true of women (am I seceding from the union?); I am expected to put my stamp of token approval on the stereotypes. Yes, it's true. Between you and me, it's all true. That's what is wanted from me. Abdication of my principles and pride, in service to a patriarchal system that will only use my collusion to further subjugate me. This is a thing that is asked of me by men who purport to care for me.

There is the unwillingness to listen, a ferociously stubborn not getting it on so many things, so many important things. And the obdurate refusal to believe, to internalize, that my outrage is not manufactured and my injure not make-believe—an inflexible rejection of the possibility that my pain is authentic, in favor of the consolatory belief that I am angry because I'm a feminist (rather than the truth: that I'm a feminist because I'm angry).

And there is the denial about engaging in misogyny, even when it's evident, even when it's pointed out gently, softly, indulgently, carefully, with goodwill and the presumption that it was not intentional. There is the firm, fixed, unyielding denial—because it is better and easier to imply that I'm stupid or crazy, that I have imagined being insulted by someone about whom I care (just for the fun of it!), than it is to just admit a bloody mistake. Rather I am implied to be a hysteric than to say, simply, I'm sorry.

Not every man does all of these things, or even most of them, and certainly not all the time. But it only takes one, randomly and occasionally, exploding in a shower of cartoon stars like an unexpected punch in the nose, to send me staggering sideways, wondering what just happened.

Well. I certainly didn't see that coming…

These things, they are not the habits of deliberately, connivingly cruel men. They are, in fact, the habits of the men in this world I love quite a lot.

All of whom have given me reason to mistrust them, to use my distrust as a self-protection mechanism, as an essential tool to get through every day, because I never know when I might next get knocked off-kilter with something that puts me in the position, once again, of choosing between my dignity and the serenity of our relationship.

Swallow shit, or ruin the entire afternoon?

It can come out of nowhere, and usually does. Which leaves me mistrustful by both necessity and design. Not fearful; just resigned—and on my guard. More vulnerability than that allows for the possibility of wounds that do not heal. Wounds to our relationship, the sort of irreparable damage that leaves one unable to look in the eye someone that you loved once upon a time.

This, then, is the terrible bargain we have regretfully struck: Men are allowed the easy comfort of their unexamined privilege, but my regard will always be shot through with a steely, anxious bolt of caution.

A shitty bargain all around, really. But there it is.

There are men who will read this post and think, huffily, dismissively, that a person of color could write a post very much like this one about white people, about me. That's absolutely right. So could a lesbian, a gay man, a bisexual, an asexual. So could a trans or intersex person (which hardly makes a comprehensive list). I'm okay with that. I don't feel hated. I feel mistrusted—and I understand it; I respect it. It means, for me, I must be vigilant, must make myself trustworthy. Every day.

I hope those men will hear me when I say, again, I do not hate you. I mistrust you. You can tell yourselves that's a problem with me, some inherent flaw, some evidence that I am fucked up and broken and weird; you can choose to believe that the women in your lives are nothing like me.

Or you can be vigilant, can make yourselves trustworthy. Every day.

Just in case they're more like me than you think.

...As I lie awake at night wondering what happened to the light hearted, easy going, flirty girl I once was, I read this and understand. I am angry and also saddened. Trust is important in order to live a complete life. To feel that trust from people you love, and depend on, makes life a secure and happy place. No trust, no security, erodes your very being. Soon, you become someone who you barely recognize. Someone who questions everything. One who decides to do nothing. Who is scared and just plain tired of fighting so hard for respect and dignity.Who trust no one.

#melissa mcewan #trust #misogyny #demeaning #discredited #marginalized #scared #sad #dignity

[abjectionproductions-blog]

An Interview with Interregnum

Could you introduce the group? Who you are and what you do in Interregnum?

Gregory: The idea for the project has been evolving for around two years. Joshua and I met through Tumblr, when he submitted a collection of short stories to Cutlines Press (I was acting as co-editor). It turned out that we shared so many interests, from music and literature to occultism, that we began working on a publication that came out last December, a literary collection called Collapsed Cartographies. [http://www.cutlinespress.com/category/e-book/]  Other authors and artists contributed, and Joshua and I recorded an album to go along with the literary material. [https://collapsedcartographies.bandcamp.com/album/collapsed-cartogrophies]. In the group I do vocals, synth, harmonium, stick dulcimer, bells, rattles, field recordings and samples, etc…

Joshua: Hello, there. My name is Josh. I play things in Interregnum, I suppose. I sample stuff as well. Gregory and I kind of play everything. I don’t think we have set roles in the project. He plays the harmonium. I can’t play that. Or, at least I don’t own one. It’s my favorite part of our sound, though.

What's the origin of the project? Why the name Interregnum?

Gregory: As I said, we began with a pretty ambitious literary collaboration, and that has grown into Interregnum as a specific musical outlet.  The word “interregnum” means an interval or pause, and especially a period between reigns, of governmental transition. I first encountered the word around a year ago, and have found it increasingly useful in terms of political analysis. I think that, globally, we are definitely in a disorienting situation, where the coordinates of the 20th century (the Cold War, for example), are no longer adequate. I came of age during the era of the Bush administration in the U.S, which was a time when it looked like the U.S. was going to be able to set the agenda for the world, on the heels of the 90s boom, and so on. Now—after the global financial crisis, the failure of U.S. imperial policy (reminiscent of the decline of Soviet power, e.g., in their inability to control Afghanistan) all the ideas even of the Bush era seem totally inadequate. So many big projects and visions have failed, whether we are talking about U.S. imperial “democracy,” 20th century socialism, or even the new age movement – the whole millennial atmosphere of the turn of the century is dispersing. We’ve had record temperatures worldwide every month for almost a year. I mean, I saw spring flowers blooming in the middle of winter here in Louisiana in 2015. I am interested in exploring these zones of in-betweenness musically.

Joshua: Gregory and I actually met through the kind of transgressive literature scene. He published a few short stories of mine. We still connect on that level I think. I’m working as a kind of third creative mind on his novel The Ugly Spirit, which is fucking great, by the way. I’m the E.K. to his Edmund Spenser. We started making music together to soundtrack the publication and we just clicked. We both have hands in the same kind of experimental sound.

Why the choice of Scandinavian mythology as a concept for the Wolf Age album?

Gregory: I don’t have an exact answer of why we decided to focus here. I have worked with Odin and the runes in the past. The mythology is something that comes up periodically in my life. After working on Collapsed Cartographies, Joshua and I were talking about a possible EP centered around Norse mythology. I suppose I’ve always been drawn to the apocalyptic current in northern mythology (i.e. with the idea of Ragnarok), and that seems like a fitting motif for the times, given that we are in some kind of interregnum. 

Joshua: Gregory contacted me regarding putting together a project based on Norse Mythology. We both have a complicated relationship with the occult. I think our concept for the album, the lack of gender binary in Norse folklore, has a good academic basis and also might stop neo-fascist, dude-bro Asatru types from listening to our music, which is good.

During the creative process of the album there was some sort of material (musical, literary, artistic, etc.) or personal experience that influenced your way of work?

Gregory: At a highly abstract level, the mood suggested by this corresponded with a number of things happening in my life at the time. My grandmother was dying and I was also coming out of a period of pharmaceutical drug addiction, so I was in a dark and foreboding mood, but also being forced to start over on various levels. Joshua began sending me skeletal tracks with titles referring to specific episodes in the Poetic Edda. From there I added vocals or whatever else I felt inspired to add. In retrospect, I think that I benefitted by being prompted to create around mythic themes, which drew me away from the purely close-up view of my own life. In everything I did, I tried to maintain a certain fidelity to the stories in the Edda.

Joshua: This was recorded during a period of immense, but painful personal growth for me. Lots of stuff changed while we were making this. As far as artistic influences, a lot of David Bowie. Old gay pornography. Death in June. Metro Boomin. The devil, perhaps.

Could you describe the process of recording?

Gregory: We did everything remotely. Joshua would send me a base track, or I would send him one. He would add something. I would add something. I think we both gravitated toward a combination of improvisational, noisy approaches, with a structured style of song writing. I definitely wanted to have choruses, verses, and all of that sort of thing, but also a tendency for that coherence to dissolve, and then come back together.

Joshua: We recorded our parts separately and then emailed them to each other. Postal Service style.  

Wolf Age possesses a strong ritualist vibe. Is there some sort of proceeding to fully appreciate the music as a listener?

Gregory: My approach to music reflects my life-long interest in the occult. I haven’t made any music specifically for rituals, but the music is, as you say, ritualistic. I do hope that listeners will have some interesting experience with the music. The tracks on this album refer to a mythic temporality, as does ritual. I would like for listeners to have a sense of being transported outside of our mundane sense of being in the world.

Joshua: Not for me. Take from it what you will.

The album is going to be released in cassette, could you comment briefly about that and why this media was chosen?

Gregory: We both have a strong interest in analog musical instruments. We use analog synth, drum machine, etc. I’m a good decade older than Joshua (30), so I have a certain nostalgic interest in these formats. The first album I ever bought was on tape, and my earliest sound experiments were with tape recorders. On a very pervasive level, this continuing interest is related to my long-term engagement with the work of William S. Burroughs, and the tape recorder-fueled influence that he had on a certain moment in time, particularly in the U.K. My primary touchstones, musically, are Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV, Current 93, and that whole occult musical scene…I see myself as continuing Burroughs’ research, as it were, to the point where I’ve literally done magical work to be in contact with Burroughs from beyond the grave. Also there seems to be a cassette revival going on now, like what has been happening with vinyl. I am interested in being part of that, precisely because it doesn’t seem to be purely backwards-looking. In fact, through the establishment of networks, particularly online, the cassette revival is intertwined with a lot of musical innovation. I like what Croatian Amor is doing, for example. There are so many new cassette releases at the moment.

Joshua: It’s just the classic underground music format. I love the scale of it. I love that it can be manipulated and destroyed and reshaped.

Do you see any relationships between the religious traditions of New Orleans and the ones practiced by the old Scandinavians?

Gregory: That’s an interesting question. In short, yes.

There has always been a lot going on in Louisiana. On the one hand, it is certainly a U.S. city, but it is also part of the Caribbean—in many respects the northern limit of the Caribbean. Many of the forces that have operated in Latin America have also been present here, so we have this kind of imported Mediterranean/pan-Latin/Catholic thing going on. For instance, I grew up outside of New Orleans in a rural, Sicilian ethnic community, embedded in a majority black town. It’s an odd experience of race and culture, considering, say, the historical composition of the Midwestern U.S. Another part of my family is from a Canary Island immigrant community, here. So I grew up around official Catholicism as well as folk Catholicism. The latter involved many essentially magical practices and orientations. Now, living in New Orleans, I see the ways that Hoodoo is still alive here, along with growing practices of Santeria, Mexican curanderismo, the Santa Muerte cult, etc. I’ve practiced Golden Dawn-style ceremonial magic for a long time as well. I feel very close to that, but there is something missing in that sort of practice, namely the veneration of ancestors and things like that, as I see in folk Catholic practices. I suspect that there are similarities between these kinds of approaches and how northern Europeans, in a shamanic culture, would have related to reality. I have more understanding of the contemporary traditions I just mentioned, whereas northern paganism is a reconstruction, except in the sense in which it survived and came down through fairy tales, folk songs, and so on. In that regard, we’re left speculating based on textual evidence and our own spiritual experimentation. Freya Aswynn has said that she sees similarities between northern paganism and West African diaspora religion. Something to think about.  

Joshua: I’m actually not from New Orleans. I’ve been there a few times, though. Last time I ended up drinking absinthe with Ad-Rock from the Beastie Boys. Wild.

In your opinion, what type of role does paganism exert in our contemporary society?

Gregory: Modernity brought about a radical de-centering, so that the Christian God is no longer at the center of social life in western civilization, or whatever we want to call it. Global capitalism has created a situation where extreme mixing of cultures is an accomplished fact. I don’t see any potential in resisting that mixing; we have already lost the ground of former identities, such that they ever existed. In some respects, maybe this is like a hyper-driven version of what happened in late antiquity, where Egyptian and Greek religious practices blended together, and Hermeticism and strange Gnostic cults flourished amid wild experimentation…This was brought about by the existence of a cosmopolitan empire that foreshadowed capitalist globalization. Gods abounded. This was the death of an old world but also a time of great creation.

Joshua: Paganism IS our society. Everything humans will ever do that is not directly related to our baseline survival implies faith and implies symbolism and implies archetypal thinking.

Any message to your listeners?

Gregory: If you’re out there, I want to connect with you! I want to find others who have the same deep longings that are driving me create art and think about the world, even in the face of the major disasters that are unfolding around us.

Joshua: Don’t ask permission. 

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