#I am enjoying these two much more in this than MSP

[artisanoftheredscience]

Incident Reports From An Unidentified Revolutionary

@fallenlondonficswap @the-avaricious-meddler

Hi Void! I'm the person who got you for the Secret Swap! I had a lot of fun with this prompt, so I hope you enjoy the fic! :) I've also posted it to A03, which you can find here. The fic will be under the cut. Enjoy!

Prompts Used: The Masters, Revolutionaries, Light Fingers related content, Games

Incident Report for March 18XX 

Writing this from an undisclosed location. Please destroy your copy of this once you’ve read it. Can’t afford to blow my cover. 

I’ve ingratiated myself into a Ministry’s internal affairs department. I won’t say which, for security reasons, but let’s say that it has provided me with much closer access to the Bazaar. I hope to study their movements and provide clearer information about the suspected activities of MF.  MF’s sudden interest in certain industries must mean something, though as of yet I cannot determine what. I am under the impression this may be an attempt to encroach on MSP’s territory- infighting, perhaps?  Given that MF and MSP have not been outwardly hostile before, I can only imagine there is more going on there. 

Infighting could be good for the cause, but I worry too much will destabilise London before we are ready to deal with the consequences. Total liberation cannot be achieved if half the city is obliterated by a tyrant’s temper tantrum. Again. Back to the usual reporting- today under the guise of delivering permits, I snuck into the back of one of MF’s processing plants and witnessed an unusual altercation. MP had apparently been visiting; abnormal behaviour, as MF and MP are not allies as far as we are aware. We may need to look into that- I will see if some recent censorship has MF’s grubby fingerprints on it. The Ministry of Public Decency has been used for governmental overreach by other Masters before. Perhaps MF needed something covered up. Then again, no such conversation was had. It was mostly pointless, unnecessary bickering. Perhaps the two have some dispute. I will have to ask those who keep a closer eye on MP if it has been acting strangely lately. Perhaps something to do with the printing presses? They are technically machines- MF may have some claim, whether real or imagined. That could be an interesting angle to work if we wanted to pit them against one another. 

Regardless, the conversation was mostly whispered, so I did not get a clear picture of what exactly they were arguing about. I have a feeling it may come in handy to get a better idea later.  I will have to ask around and see what I can find. 

I will report with more information later. For now, au revoir. May the month serve you well. 

Collected Notes on The Frigid-Hearted Professor

I have been hearing reports through a mutual associate that there has been reported engagement between MW and The Frigid-Hearted Professor (henceforth abbreviated Professor FH). Professor FH is not usually the type to become involved in any of MW’s ventures, which is why this stood out to me. 

His history is much easier to find than I would have expected. Respectable background, sudden and intense fall from grace alongside the fall from the Surface, a rocky history, a brief period of something resembling a normal life, and then he completely fell off the map. It’s a tale as old as time, down here. The Neath takes as much as it gives. In this case, it has definitely given more than it has taken. I will admit I feel a bit sorry for the poor fellow. I cannot imagine the isolation is doing him any favours. Well, I would feel sorry for him. He has been, according to various sources, buying up a great deal of Black Wing Absinthe. Which is likely not a good sign. I am not as familiar with the stuff, but I have a contact who has dealt with past Vake Hunters. They are… not the easiest people to get along with. Something about that one specific bounty drives people to lengths most would consider untenable. The reward money is a great deal of money, enough for most people to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, and for future generations to do so as well.  Still, I don’t think I believe that is what is drawing Professor FH to this particular hunt. From what little I’ve learned about him, I don’t think money is a particularly strong motivator. I mean, he lives in the Marshes. I can think of few places worse to live in than those awful, awful marshes. 

I digress. When I discovered the issue of the Black Wing Absinthe, I presumed that MW had been keeping an eye on his purchases and was perhaps monitoring the situation itself. Which would be unusual, but alcohol of all kinds does fall under its domain. Perhaps MW suspects some sort of illegal smuggling? Given Professor FH’s history of (admittedly petty) crime, that is not entirely unlikely, though I doubt it would have been enough to warrant such personal attention. MW is not the kind of Master to do its own work. It has servants for that. 

Perhaps some other plot of its has Professor FH as a key element? Who knows. It may very well simply have hired him for some sort of work. It would not be the first time for such things. Either way, I suggest we keep an eye on their interactions until we can know for certain. Whatever Professor FH and MW are getting up to, it could be troublesome. I would not like to have to work around the two of them if they were in league with one another. 

Either way, however, there’s nothing much I can do for now. I will send a follow-up if I learn more. May the month serve you well. 

Incident Report for May 18XX

I’m sending this letter more as a warning than a formal report. Please follow standard protocol with this missive once you’ve read it. 

MW and MSP are fighting again. It appears to be more viscous than their usual fare, which leads me to believe it will begin to bleed out across several areas of London. Commerce, at the very least, will likely be tense for some time. I’d also suggest informing any operatives working closely under/around either to take caution. Now seems like a very good time to get one’s head severed from their body for minor offences. MW and MSP were spotted in a small stretch of processing facilities in Spite; I believe there was disputed Ministry territory nearby, and they had come to sort something out, only to end up in a conflict. They left the area rather disturbed- I believe that factory will remain abandoned for some time. 

I managed to get close enough to record their conversation. Below is a transcription of their conversation. Read at your own risk. 

MW: We think you are being purposefully obstinate to get a rise out of Us, and We will not be falling for the bait. We have better things to do than feed into your delusions. MSP: I’m the delusional one? Me? You must have hit the bottle too hard today. I am being perfectly rational in my demands. 

MW: We will concede nothing! You have not won. You are the one insisting that We give up something that is rightfully Ours. 

MSP: You are such a sore loser. One would think with how often one has lost in all things, that you would have gotten used to it by now. MW: We are- no. We have already said our piece. You are pressing your luck. You always do this! You always insist on being covetous- first with your encroachment on our territory, and now with this petty dispute of yours. It is a bad look on you. MSP: You are just too frightened of facing the consequences of your own failings. I suppose I cannot have expected better from you of all people. Your own failings got you stuck down here, and you’d rather play at being allies than actually-

MW; We are done with this conversation! We have nothing else to say to the likes of you. If you wish to whine some more, we suggest finding someone who will care to listen, because it will not be us. 

MSP: You are running away with your tail between your legs! Again! Upset because I am right-

MW: Good day!

After this exchange, MW stormed off and MSP began to look a little twitchy, so I made the decision to get out of the building before it started on a rampage of its own. As you can see, something has definitely happened between the two of them. I am unsure as to what, but it spells terrible things for London’s immediate safety. I will report back with more information once I’ve determined what has caused such intense conflict.

May the month serve you well. 

Compiled Notes on The Avaricious Meddler 

Recently I’ve received reports of rumours involving supposed fighting between The Avaricious Meddler (henceforth abbreviated AM) and MF. This intrigued me, so I have decided to do some digging into the matter.

The first thing I ought to note is that it is extraordinarily hard to pin down a consistent history for AM. Frankly, I could not even tell you how old they are. It does not help that AM has a decent enough cover-identity that discovering what they are up to at any given moment is near impossible. Though, I do find that particular skill of theirs highly intriguing. Would that half the people I know were so good at blending in. We’d lose far less operatives, surely. 

Regardless, what I can tell you is that they appear to be causing MF a world of trouble. I have never seen MF so obviously irritated. Well, more so than usual. MF is always irritated. I cannot speak to what AM is doing to cause this- I have noticed one of MF’s usual henchmen, whose name I dread even abbreviating in case it summons him like an evil spirit, has been suspiciously active. Not in his usual ways- activity at the Docks has slowed down considerably. No, something else is going on there. I would bet both my arms that it has to do with AM’s sudden uptick in activity. Perhaps AM has stolen something? Foiled some plan? Skipped out on coal taxes one time too many? I will have to ask around some.

Perhaps I will ask around the University. There has been some kind of hubbub in those circles as of late. I cannot say for sure any of these facts are connected, but one never knows? In this line of work, I’d not rule anything out. 

And until I get confirmation on just what AM is planning, I will have to discreetly keep an eye out for them. I wonder if I can get into some of their usual haunts. I’m not one for the rooftops myself, but they have been spotted around Urchins a number of times. Maybe one of them will speak to me. That is all I have to share for now. May the month serve you well. 

Incident Report for June, 18XX

I witnessed today an encounter between MH and MV that may be another sign of the increased infighting between the various parties in London. 

MH and MV are not a pair I usually see in my observations. MH is not the most sociable of them, from what I have gathered, or at the very least keeps odd hours, and MV is volatile enough that most of the others avoid it. And yet there they were, outside a set of factories in Spite, conversing. If I did not see it with my own two eyes I would not have believed it. 

I immediately set myself up to continue observing. In Spite, pretending to be engrossed in the fabric market is an excellent way to keep oneself faded into the background. I did end up having to buy several yards of cheap linen, but it was worth it to get a sense of what they were talking about.

It seemed to be a rather heated argument of some kind. I couldn’t get enough of it to compile a transcript- MV speaks rather low at times- but the gist of it seemed to be about a debt to be repaid. Perhaps those rumours of MV’s struggling factories were not too far off. I ought to look into it. Another project for the list. Whatever the case may be, the reminder seemed to upset MV, worse than usual. MH was as jovial as ever, perhaps moreso. It must be owed a great deal. Or it delights in causing its companion grief. 

It said something further to its companion, and this seemed to be some sort of tipping point. MV got in extraordinarily close, and then it appeared to bite MH.  Admittedly I nearly blew my cover out of shock. I know that MV has never been the most sociable of the Bazaar, but I never in my life would have expected to see it bite another of its fold in public. It must be under a special sort of duress. 

Whatever this debt of its is, it must be causing a great deal of trouble. Perhaps we can use this. I will endeavour to find out what is going on so that we might use it to further our own goals. Until then, may the Month serve you well.

Incident Report for July, 18XX

I am going to quit this life and flee back to the Surface to raise goats in some far-flung mountain. 

I have been investigating the aforementioned incidents that have been plaguing London as of late. It’s tedious, stressful work, wading through records about trade and any odd rumours about their activities. It’s been a lot of work, but I hadn’t made much progress. Until today. I met up with someone who works rather closely with one of the Masters. They’re by no means a confidante, but they hear much more than the average Londoner. I chanced asking them about my research, and they looked rather tired for a moment. They then proceeded to explain that for the past several months, the Masters have all been at one another’s throats over a disagreement. I asked what kind, and after a long period of silence they explained that the Masters had, in a moment of unexpected levity, deigned to play a game of cards together. This had, apparently, gone horribly. As in, broken furniture, bones, and alliances horribly. Some of them are still not even speaking to each other. Every Ministry has felt the effects of their terrible moods. 

Hearing this admittedly made me want to slam my head through the table. Which means all of this infighting, all of these strange shadowy movements, all of the anxiety I have experienced in the past few months, all of it was because of a game of cards!? And not even one of the important ones!?

What a waste of time. Well, at least now we know what has been happening. Perhaps they will get over this petty squabble soon. Perhaps something new will have them all taking sides again, and the cycle will keep continuing until the next city falls on our heads. It doesn’t matter. All we can be sure of is that they will continue to be a problem until our plans succeed. 

I don't even know who will read this. My lines have been dead for weeks. I may be the only one left in this circle. No matter. I will keep doing my job. I will keep my eyes on the shadowed movements of our oppressive tyrants and my fingers in every plot to thwart them. For all of London’s sake, the show must go on. May the month serve you well. 

#fallen london ficswap #fallen london #fallen london writing

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

I finally came to a realisation. I understand now, why I love those innocent highschool bls, like Bad Buddy, My School President, Light on Me, this much. And I guess also every other bl. It took me some time...years...and this will be a fucking deep dive into my own mind...I am thinking about writing it down for the last couple of hours, and after a long session of listening to "Down" by Jason Walker, I thought fuck it...if not here, then where?

I'll take MSP as an example. We witness a cute, innocent first love and how it starts and growth and how it becomes something really special and wonderful. How those two communicate with each other, understand each other, help each other in their own ways. I don't care that we had to wait for the first kiss for like forever, it made it special. And this was something I never had. The boys I liked, loved to mob me. I was told I am ugly and unlovable. So good first impression here. My real first partner was 15 years older. I don't care that much about age and age gaps in general, if it is a healthy relationship, but I came to the realisation, that I was robbed of that innocent first love, because the love for him made me grow up real fast and I had to deal with stuff you don't want to deal with in a first love story. I had to live with his immense jealousy and insecurities. He was jealous of everything and young me was obendient. From today's perspective, I hate the person I became when I was with him. I didn't have the shy cuddling and the innocent hand holding like Gun and Tinn, because he wanted a grown up relationship. And I wanted my first love to be like in the movies, with flowers and sunshine. Instead I got alcohol and jealousy...a really great combination.

I never was my true self with the partners I've been with, because from the very beginning I was trained to be a chameleon, adaptable to the moods of the men in my life. Perhaps this is the reason I am still single after my last toxic relationship ended years ago. I never listened to my self, I listened to the thoughts of my partners and how I have to behave; infront of them and infront of others (especially other men). I felt small and at some point non existing. And I never want to go back to this person and those feelings. I know, the question comes up, why did I not leave them sooner? Because I wanted their love. I needed it more than my pride and myself, because my self-confidence was so fucking low and I thought, if they love me, than I am really lovable, than I am a worthy person. So fuck all those Why didn't you leave! Because it is hard to understand you are hurting and giving up yourself and destroying yourself more and more, when you selfreflect through different eyes than yours.

And because I have never witnessed such a cute love like in MSP, I live through those moments of pure joy and can feel their happiness and this is more than I ever felt in my past relationships. And the fact it is a bl plays a big role for me. Because I can't and don't want to identify with the girls in most if these kind of love stories. Because I never had the chance to be that girl. So I take something that feels safe. Where the men are something I wish I could have had in my life. bl feels safe for my feelings to be true and validated, because I don't have to compete with the protagonist, I don't have to be jealous, I don't have to see my own flaws and the past I will never have. I can relax and enjoy a love story.

And in my heart I am still this young girl, wishing for a cuddly love, dipped in flowers and sunshine, but reality showed me in a cruel way, that my hand for men is really shitty and at some point I thought I'll never have such a relationship. I am still healing, not just from those realtionships, but other traumas thanks to men, but it takes time. My self-esteem could grow during the past years and I could heal some of those wounds and almost forgive myself for being the person I was. Right now it is enough for me to have those shows and this community ❤ If you read this far, my sincere thanks for listening.

So with the words of my new favorite song "Alive" by The Scarlet Opera, I say The whole world is watching, but nobody cares. Do what you want baby, get what you can. Life keeps rolling (so) Keep the party alive.

#personal #my head is fun and broken place... #my school president #healing #trauma #it took me years to finally connect the dots! #perhaps I delete this later #it feels really good writing this whole shit down

[aylinaliens]

hello :) i saw your post where you said that tinn reminds you of sarawat (among other emotionally repressed queer male leads) and wow great minds must think alike as i made a similar post to that a few days ago! wat is still on my list of top bl boys and i’m sure that by the end of the series tinn will be as well. as you said, guys like him pine from afar and are more than pleased with just that as long as they get to keep this person in their life, no matter what form that takes in the end. they wear this mask of apathy, and at times hostility, all in order to hide what the other person means to them and the lengths they’re willing to go for their happiness, regardless of whether they know of their efforts or if it’s at the expense of themself. anyways, i’m glad that others seem to be enjoying this silly little show as much as i am!

hello!! within the first few minutes of msp i was hit with this nostalgic feeling—something about tinn felt so familiar, so instantaneously endearing. it’s because he reminds me so much of my fav emotionally repressed queer leads. except he’s not a carbon copy of them if that makes sense? he has his own flavor and personality while still maintaining what we saw sarawat/kurosawa/lwj/etc. go through.

the pining and yearning and wishful hope that maybe one day they would look at you and actually see that you have been standing there this whole time with your heart and soul bared. but…well…that’s scary. whether it be rejection, low self-esteem, or simply just the acknowledgement that it’s better to keep that mask in place…there is something holding them back. the one thing i love about dynamics like this is that the emotionally repressed one is going to have that big italicized Oh moment where they maybe get this burst of bravery to fight for what they want.

i think it’s neat that going into msp i had zero expectations. i was hoping for something silly and fun to balance out the heavy stuff i was rewatching. i didn’t think i would be this enamored or sucked in. although i don’t *love* 2gether like i used to anymore too, wat is still a character that i hold near to my heart (and tine!!).

tinn is just that type of self-sacrificial character who just wants the person he likes to be happy. sure, he sort of messes around and teases gun but it’s never malicious or cruel. it seems like tinn is actually amused that he can get gun riled up. there’s never any ill intention behind what he does, in fact the poor lovesick fool was so earnest asking people to vote for gun’s band. he did the totally innocent thing of doodling his crush!! he takes satisfaction in hearing gun refer to himself with tinn’s last name. tinn just…he has a lot of strong feelings and he might not know what to do with them outwardly whenever he’s around gun but he sure knows what to do behind the scenes.

anyways. thank you for sending this! i’m glad that other people are enjoying this silly little show too. i have a lot of feelings about it already which is wild considering there is only 1 episode out. i can’t wait to watch tinngun grow as characters and learn their backstory! i cannot wait until episode two comes out tomorrow 🥰

#uh. so i’m totally normal about msp. #i can’t explain it well but msp is nostalgic and comforting #it makes me happy and warm inside 🥺 #my-year-2002 #kay answers #my school president #my school president the series #tinngun #sufa 💌

[inonetoomanyfandoms]

Our skyy 2 overall mini ratings

This is just me giving my unneeded opinions. This is all relatively at face value btw.

NLMG: 7/10

Would never expect anything else from the doomed delusional lovers. I honestly really loved Palm in particular in this. Would’ve loved more context for background characters (aka why the fuck is Marc there) but I liked watching them work together a helping others again. Otherwise was good.

SIMM: 4/10

They dragged it too much for my liking. Cute but highly annoying by the time we reached like the end of ep 1. Would’ve been better with just one ep or if they also did sky in your heart. It would’ve been nice to see Prince and Fah again. Also robbed of Sean and Maitee

The Eclipse: 6/10

I think khaofirst’s chemistry saved this. I loved seeing them all together but AkkAyan’s emotional constipation is showing and isn’t solving idk. I also would like to know why they uncomfortably suggested a relationship between Wat and Teacher Sani. Like I know they’re out of school but still. Neo is still gorgeous as ever and Thua still gets on my nerves.

Vice Versa: 7/10

I think the main reason I liked this a lot was cause the lack of product placement. I thought it was actually super cute and I loved Puen and Talay taking care of a child together. I don’t think that would be legal though but yknow. Also I’d love to understand the thought process of giving your nephew to your friends to solve their marriage problems. But apart from that honestly I actually enjoyed it.

MSP: 8/10

I’m too biased to make a legitimate opinion on this so I’ll save my breath. I thought it was a great a idea to swap and I really think they delivered tbh. I just think though that the original series nailed the casting cause as much as I love fourth playing Tinn he just couldn’t nail it like Gemini. This applies the other way around although I do think Gemini did a slightly better job at playing Gun. Literally only problem I have was that it was little awkward.

That and that fucking bullfrog song getting stuck in my head at worst possible times.

ABAAB: 7/10

I understand the timing of it airing but that was cruel to put it in between MSP and BB like cmon. Because a boss and a babe is great and actually the our skyy was pretty damn good considering everything. Gun needs to chill though this man. Also I don’t think I’ll ever get over how cute Zo is. Like if I was Thi I would also treat him the same way he’s so cute. But it really did feel like a nice little special (two) episode, it was nice.

Bad Buddy and ATOTS: 8/10

I am also too biased here to give a stable opinion. This fed all my dreams and more. I loved the parallels both to themselves and also across shows. I understand how phupha and tian are a lot more emotionally constipated than patpran my gosh. But honestly I really loved it despite its rush. They did however spend way too long lost. Like they could’ve fit a bit more character development in those times but I guess you gotta make up the budget so.

Overall thoughts:

giving many 7/10 but honestly most of these were just simply good. Not mind boggling great but I wasn’t disappointed.

Obviously pretty much all of these were rushed and half baked in some sort of way but that was expected considering it’s only two episodes and they’re trying to cater to headcanons and fan service at the end of the day. The callbacks and domesticity of the shows is pretty evident of that.

Overall it was fine to be honest. It was relatively true the way the characters are and it gave us just that extra bit people would like. I can’t complain about being given exactly what I was expecting.

I can’t wait to see all of the actors again!!!

(especially baby Ohm I love him so much)

[kittywildegrrl]

MAMA CAT AND THE VERY HARD SLOG

In Which MamaCat Gets Her SAG-AFTRA Card and It Makes Her Start Blogging Again

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?

Write day and night like you're running out of time?

Ev'ry day you fight, like you're running out of time

Keep on fighting”

-- Lin-Manuel Miranda, “Non-Stop,” HAMILTON, Act 2

Oh, look, I’m back.

The agent looked at me with clear confusion. “Diana,” the agent asked, “How do you DO it?”

The agent in question, here in Minneapolis, is a good friend of many years, a responsible person with spouse and family, mortgage, all the Adulting, if you will. Also, a really wonderful actor as well. So, somebody I was glad to answer honestly. And if you’re taking the time to read my little bloggety blog, then I shall extend the same courtesy to you.

The agent was asking how, essentially, how does it happen that I seem to be always heading off to or getting back from New York, when I don’t seem to have a whole lot of money. I have heard friends say things like, “But you have agents in New York, don’t you?”; “I wish I could do that”; “New York must be so fun!” The answers are, (a) it seems that way because I often am on my way there or back here; (b) no I do not; (c) you could, if that were your priority; and (d) yes, it is, but I’m not going for fun - I just happen to have fun while I’m there.

There comes a time in your life when you just know that THIS IS IT, this is the thing I am going to do with my life, with the time I’ve got left. It may come to you as a child, or it may come to you in something that looks to others like you’ve had a complete crackup from your midlife crisis. It may come at any time, and it may change your life if you let it. It may come back after detours of many years, and tap you on the shoulder, and say, “Hey, did we want to Actualize or what?” Parts of it may suck. Parts of it will definitely be much harder than you had anticipated. Parts of it will amaze you. All of it will require risk and courage (cue “Climb Ev’ry Mountain”).

Five summers ago, I was doing a season at Allenberry Playhouse in south-central Pennsylvania. It was the summer I grew up, at the ripe old age of 56. I made a few lifelong friends, did some delightful work, took some hikes, enjoyed some bananas Foster, got some nice reviews, had a nervous breakdown when I saw the rehearsal & production photos and realized what my body actually looked like after years of sitting… you know, the usual.  

Among the lifelong friendships that were born that summer, is that which blossomed with the lovely and talented Shannon Haddock, actor, blogger, wife, singer, in no particular order. My pal. My sister from another mother. She offered to all and sundry at Allenberry a safe place to crash in the Bronx, on their couch (hers and her hubby’s). I guess I was the only one to take her up on it. And I have done so again and again. I have also accepted invitations to sleep on April & Andy’s couch, and Bethany & Adam’s couch. At a time of life when most of my peers are either already retired or just about to retire, I am couch-surfing like a college student. AND LOVING IT.

If you’re a Facebook friend of mine, you’ve seen a lot of photos uploaded from New York… but few seem to notice that you don’t really see me doing a lot of spendy things. Or touristy things. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Welcome to New York, now spend your money and go home! Two baseball clubs, every kind of cuisine, Fashion Week, FLEET WEEK!!! Have a blast! But my path is a little less Vacation-y and a lot more Focus-y.

I may check into the restaurant on Facebook, so my husband knows where I’m eating and whatnot, but the odds are pretty good that it’s not a famous or trendy place, & there aren’t any fab pictures of fancy, expensive meals. Maybe one cocktail. Maybe I’m splitting something with a friend whom I couldn’t make time to see otherwise. What you don’t see is the two bags of groceries I carry home after I get off the train, to pitch in for meals with my benefactors (or, one bag of groceries & another with a bottle of wine in it. Let’s get real.). Or me shopping at the dollar store on Upper Broadway instead of, say, Bergdorf’s.

Sure, I’ve seen this show and that show… but some of them only because a dear friend sprung for tickets (thank you Fern!!!!!). Most of what I’ve seen on Broadway, I’ve seen because I could grab $39 nosebleeds, or I hit a Lottery deal. Quite a few trips go by without me seeing anything on Broadway at all, except the tourists in the streets. Some of the shows I’m fortunate enough to have seen have been Off-Broadway & Off-Off-Broadway; not just because that’s the surest way to catch fresh work, but also because that’s usually where I’ll be able to see my friends performing, and the tickets are much cheaper Off-Off (so are the bars).

I see folks waxing rhapsodic on the Social about their trips to the City, the amazing things they’ve seen and done and eaten, and it looks and sounds great! But it’s a version of the City I never see. And I am just fine with that. One thing I can confirm about New York: there is literally something for everyone.

I go on the cheapest flights at the most annoying flight times. My last trip back, for example: from the apartment in the Bronx to my husband’s arms in Minneapolis took well over 12 hours, but it was barely $125 including meals. Leave the Bronx on a train to go get on a bus to Boston. From there, take a train into Logan to catch a flight back into NYC. Change planes for a flight to MSP. Yes. That’s how Mama rolls.

I live like the other actors live while I’m there; $25 - $50 for some class is CHEAP AF, but the same $25 - $50 is WAY the hell too expensive for a meal. The train may only be $2.75/trip (less when you’re savvy about your MetroCard refills), but look here, there’s time walk between at least two or three of these appointments and I can get cardio while saving almost enough to afford the lunch special at that place in the Garment District where they always have a 1/2 sandwich with a cup of soup for $10 if you go at the right time of day. If a friend is taking a dance or improv or acting class on the regular, that allows one free drop-in session, you can bet your bagels I’ve gone with her and taken the free drop-in.

It’s a freaky weird choice of lifestyle, but I’m committed. Many people have suggested that I should be committed – but I think they were thinking of something else. Perhaps in later installments I’ll tell you tales of what I’ve sacrificed to pull it off, regale you with fascinating (or boring) vignettes, detail some of the moments and connect the dots. It’s the best possible way to work things out in a world in which we can’t pick up and move to New York, but in which I need to be there for karmic and professional reasons.

But six weeks ago, I got the break. A really cool one. It may or may not lead to Really Exciting Stuff; no one can predict the future, but it was most definitely something cool. And it goes directly to these efforts over these five years. And it’s supported by the friends & husband who have helped me suck up the sacrifices, live through the tears, and learn to go without the shiny things in order to earn the greater things.

“Diana,” the agent asked, “How do you DO it?”

I do it on the cheap, babe. I do it on the 1 Train. Just like Lin-Manuel.

Meow, darlings.

#actorslife theatre musicaltheatre film NYC unionmaid

[blessed-but-distressed]

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

also on ff.net and ao3

Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal , @kat2609 , @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon  @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld , @natascha-remi-ronin and whoever else asks me.

Killian

Killian had the entire bus ride out to the wilds of Musselburgh to get a grip on his anger. A whole forty minutes to compose his thoughts, an hour if you factored in having to stop home to change. A leather jacket wasn’t going to cut it with this crowd.

It was Ladies Day at the races.

The one day a year when the movers and shakers of South Eastern Scotland congregated to blag their way through a succession of conversations about horse racing as if they had any clue. Anything to impress the boss, or seal that deal. The place was fit to bursting with moneyed types and semi-famous faces. People he’d shaken hands with at various luncheons and dinners, and other pretentious press events masquerading as dining opportunities.

He never grew used to it. It didn’t matter how long it had been since he’d welcomed Elsa and her not-inconsiderable trust fund into the family, or lived in that veritable mansion on East Castle Road. When it came to mingling with the blue bloods, Killian always came out of the encounter feeling like some kind of Dickensian orphan, who’d accidentally wandered into the wrong part of town.

There was a clear distinction in this crowd, between the girls in their frocks and fascinators sipping champagne on the grass, and the shifty-eyed types sitting in the stands, betting slips clutched tight in grubby fists.

Killian knew the type well. The kind who still thought his losses could be recovered, if only he chose the right horse. The right name. Wore the right socks, and said the right prayers. They were the usual faces, who’d shown up despite the pomp and inflated prices at the gate. That might divert the usual punter to a betting shop on Clerk Street, but not these diehards. They wouldn’t let a small thing like that stand between them and the ponies. They were also probably the only ones in attendance who’d actually bothered to read the form guide beforehand.

For now, the weather was holding, but Killian predicted there might be something of something of an exodus, sooner or later. Dark clouds were unfurling on the horizon, and he didn’t think those women in their strappy high heels stood much of a chance when the deluge arrived. It would be a quagmire.

He was almost tempted to stick around long enough to enjoy the spectacle, but that wasn’t his primary goal. He had another, less entertaining focus for his attentions.

Malcolm Weaver.

He was, as Killian suspected he would be, right in the thick of things. It was his laugh that first gave him away, the oily artifice of it audible from twenty paces. The face, when it came into view, merely drove that impression home. This was not a man content to age gracefully. Instead, Weaver seemed to be doing everything in his power to keep the years at bay, his hair plugs and unmoving forehead a testament to his vanity.

Killian caught the moment Weaver clapped eyes on him, his dentist white smile dimming mid-anecdote before he had a chance to recover himself.

Killian swiped a champagne flute from a passing tray and took a sip as he watched Weaver excuse himself from his conversation. But before he could speak, a third party appeared from Killian’s left, two meaty fists grabbing him roughly by the lapels of his borrowed suit jacket.

Of course. A lackey. Every wannabe gangster’s favourite spring accessory.

“You might’ve bought me a dinner first,” Killian cracked, as the man relieved him of his champagne, and started in on a none-too-gentle pat down. When he got to the prosthetic he hesitated, but Weaver just waved him away.

“Even Killian Jones isn’t stupid enough to impale me on his own hook in front of twelve MSPs and the Chief Constable. Leave us.”

The goon did as instructed, slipping into the crowd scarily easily for a man approximately the size and weight of a mountain gorilla.

“Friendly chap,” Killian commented idly, smoothing down his jacket from where it had been crumpled in the man’s grasp. He was missing a button, he noticed. There’d be hell to pay for that later.

“Felix? He’s a good lad. Very… effective,” Weaver finished, drinking down the last of his own champagne. “I take it this is about the money.”

“Aye, it’s about the fucking money.”

“I’ve been expecting you to come beating down my door for months now, or has the elder brother Jones become better at hiding his dirty laundry than he used to be?” Weaver mused, indicating to a passing waitress for a refill.

“You should’ve turned him away,” Killian ground out, with something approaching a snarl. “You should’ve left him alone.”

“Left him alone? Dear boy, he’s the one that came to me. All I did was help out an old friend.”

“Help?” Killian practically spat the word. “By charging him, what? Forty percent interest? Fifty?”

“Well, I am a businessman,” Weaver replied, accepting his refreshed beverage with a sly grin and a wink in the server’s direction.

“You’re a snake,” Killian corrected. “A slimy, nouveau-riche bastard so terrified of your own mortality you’ve turned yourself into a human Ken doll.”

Weaver’s answering smile was venomous, white teeth flashing as his lips strained against his frozen facial muscles. “Well,” he said, making eye contact with someone behind Killian’s shoulder, “so much for pleasantries. At least I’m not a one-handed man with a drinking problem.”

The blow came out of nowhere, a fat fist square to the eye socket.

“Bloody hell!” Killian staggered backwards, hand clutched to his face as it exploded with pain.

Somewhere from outside of his haze of his agony, he could hear the sound of Weaver’s voice close by, cold and menacing. “Try to interfere in my business again, and you’ll lose that other hand. And do tell your brother I said hello.”

It can’t be that bad. ES

-KJ has sent you an image file-

I stand corrected. He got you good. And he’s what? A source? ES

Something like that. KJ

Might be time to re-evaluate that relationship… ES

I concur. KJ

Pint? ES

Please. KJ

“So?”

Emma took a few steps back to survey her work, a deep crinkle settling between her eyebrows.

Killian sighed, reaching for his pint glass. “I knew it. He knocked the handsome out of me.”

Emma snorted, twisting the cap back onto her concealer with an involuntary smile. “The concealer helps,” she admitted. “But there’s not a lot I can do about the swelling. My advice? Frozen peas. And if you have to show your face in public? Aviators.”

Killian thought of the pair she’d worn the week before, as they’d sat out in the Meadows after her latest 5k torture session, and wondered how much of this advice might stem from experience. How many of those light, precise touches she’d used to disguise the worst of his injury she’d already perfected in the mirror.

He wasn’t oblivious to the reputation of the foster system where Emma had grown up. She certainly didn’t seem to have too many positive things to say about the experience. He’d only had to endure being in care for a few years. She’d been raised by a revolving door of strangers from infancy.  

The way her hand had shaken as she grazed the worst of his bruises-

Clearing his throat, Killian turned his attention to the front of the bar, where the storm he’d predicted earlier now lashed against the windows with a steady ferocity. It hurt to raise an eyebrow, but still, he managed it.

“Or maybe a cool cover story?” Emma suggested smoothly. “Apprehended a purse thief? Foiled a kidnapping? Insulted Mike Tyson?”

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

Emma grinned, downing the last contents of her glass. “You are welcome. You can keep those. And the concealer,” she said, placing the little tube onto the bar in front of him.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, noticing her reach for her jacket. It was the same one she’d worn when they’d first met, soft red leather, and hardly weather appropriate considering the downpour outside.

“Maybe I am,” she said airily, pulling her arms through the sleeves. “But if you think I’m going to tell you about it so you can gossip to all of your subscribers…” She gave him a level look.

“Ah.” Perhaps, in hindsight, he could’ve been a tad more circumspect when it came to the Grant issue in his last column.

“Yes, ah. You should’ve seen the amount of notifications I got after Mary Margaret read your piece. Not to mention the sidelong glances I’ve been getting at work. Those have been super fun. You’re kind of a son of a bitch, you know that?”

He did. He did know that. And one day, he might even make it up to her. Perhaps. In the meantime though…

“Indeed. And that’s why I pay you the big bucks,” he said sarcastically, reaching into his satchel to extract the agreed fee, £100 of pound coins, wrapped in a calico bank bag. Rather than pressing it into her hands, he settled for leaving the bag at her feet, as if this were a far more clandestine exchange.

“Why do you always have to make this out like it’s sordid as hell?” she wondered aloud, frowning as she stuffed the contents away into her messenger bag.

“I must have a knack,” Killian shrugged. “Those are new coins, by the way. I do hope your landlord has changed that barbaric coin meter of yours, because the bank has stopped giving out the old ones.”

Emma made a face. A face that said her landlord had probably done nothing of the sort. “Yeah, I’ll get on that. Thanks.”

She stood up to go, but was surprised when Killian’s prosthetic tapped her on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “Jones?”

He held out an umbrella. His umbrella, hurriedly retrieved from his bag. “Probably too soon in the relationship for Graham to meet Drowned Rat Emma, don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes, but she took the umbrella.

“You forgot to mention how dashing I look in this suit!” he called after her.

She turned her face away, but he still caught the smile stretching wide across her features as she pulled open the door. “No, I didn’t!” she called back, her shout barely audible above the roar of the rain.

Are you icing that eye? ES

Are you texting me while Graham is in the loo? KJ

You mean the bathroom? Maybe. Possibly. Yes. Don’t change the subject. There had better be some frozen vegetables in close proximity to your face right now. ES

Waitrose branded sweetcorn. Are you satisfied? KJ

I never knew corn could be elitist until right this minute. ES

Believe it. And that’s not forgetting the time I zoned out reading the ingredients on the box of Waitrose brand cereal and came to five hours later in a voting booth, pen poised to vote Tory. Every day in this house is a struggle. KJ

Ha. Graham’s coming back. Look after that eye. And try not to give in to any sudden conservative tendencies. ES

But who else offers Strong and Stable Leadership? KJ

Thin fucking ice. ES

He’d debated how to approach the conversation, but in the end he decided to just rip off that plaster once and for all. He was tired of the secrets. Of the lies. Of pretending everything was normal when everything was so very far from normal.

This was probably how his mother had felt, he realised, when finally confronted with the truth of her husband’s addictions, of the spiralling debts and tangled web of half-truths and broken promises.

He was there to greet Liam as he came in the door, house keys still clutched in his hand, tie askew after another long day cooped up in his office, reading over the latest copy edits.

“Is that my suit?” he asked, shrugging his laptop case from his shoulders with a frown. Which Killian took as all the invitation he needed to properly step into the light, letting his brother see his face.

Even with Emma’s best work, there was no hiding the worst of it. And it must’ve still looked pretty bloody awful because Liam stopped dead where he stood, house keys falling from his hand and clattering onto the floorboards.

“Kil?” It was the same tone he’d used in the hospital, the day Killian’s life had fallen apart. The same one he’d used that morning twenty three years ago when they’d woken up and found their father’s car gone, his wardrobe stripped bare. By their mother’s graveside, as they’d buried her in the cold earth.

“Malcolm Weaver sends his regards. And it’s about time you and I had an honest conversation for once, don’t you think?”

Emma

It had been a while since Emma had played the dating game. The getting-to-know-you game. The how-many-siblings game. The where-did-you-get-that-scar game. Like subjecting someone to a chronology of your more embarrassing teenage anecdotes made tumbling into bed together after three martinis and an awkward handjob in the back of an Uber less sleazy somehow.

For some people, the little things were just that, little. But for Emma, even the most innocuous first date questions turned into stumbling blocks.

“So, what do your parents do?” Ha.

“Where’d you grow up?” Ugh.

“What does the tattoo mean?” Geez.

Sometimes, she wished she could just skip all of the tedious minutiae, and proceed with the naked bedroom aerobics. Did that make her a tramp? Probably. So sue her. Graham Humbert, Professor of International Relations was cute, he was interested, and he was available. But how long would that last, when he learned the truth? Spilling your guts about your shitty childhood and non-existent family was not exactly a precursor to hot, sweaty good times.

God, she really needed to get laid.

But if Graham knew where Emma’s thoughts lay, he was playing it coy. It was their third official date, and so far, there had been zero hints he had any wild seduction plans for later. Just a nice dinner, and drinks at a trendy cocktail bar in the New Town she’d only ever read about.

“You okay?” he asked, setting down her third daiquiri on the bar in front of her. “Is it evaluations?”

Oh, right. Evaluations. As in, all of the student feedback that would be collated over the next week or so, frankly assessing her merit as a teacher. As in, the single largest obstacle which would stand between her and a renewal of her contract. As in, what she probably should have been focusing on, instead of counting the days since her last orgasm.

Still, she took the easy out, releasing a relieved breath. “That obvious, huh?”

He shrugged, a grin forming. “You do seem a little wound up.”

Maybe Graham was gay. That would explain it. How else could a man be so, so oblivious? Killian would’ve seen right through her by now, would’ve already made at least three double entendres and a sly offer to “relieve the pressure”, just to torture her.

God, why was she even thinking about him? Graham was right in front of her. With the biceps and the accent and the research grant. Maybe it was time to take the bull by the horns, so to speak.

“You know,” she began, twirling her straw suggestively between her fingers, “I’m sure there’s plenty you could do to take my mind off of it.”

Okay, so it was a cheap line. But judging by the flare of interest in Graham’s eye, the way his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, it hit its mark. So maybe not so gay after all.

“Yeah?” he said, leaning closer, gaze definitely falling to her lips.

“Yeah.”

She was within a hair’s breadth of making contact when the shrill insistence of a strange ringtone pierced the air, causing them to both jump in their seats, their foreheads cracking together with all of the grace of a slapstick comedy duo.

“Ow. Sorry.”

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Still rubbing at the spot where they’d collided, he reached inside his jeans pocket. His phone. Of course it fucking was. He answered it on the third ring.

Emma didn’t catch much of his half of the conversation, what with the lump rapidly forming on her forehead, but she caught enough of it to know this evening was not going to end the way she’d been imagining when she’d picked out her underwear this morning.

Not that the conk to the head had been that great of an omen.

His face was regretful, and that alone would have to be enough to sustain her. “I’m really sorry, Emma,” he began, but she cut him off before he could continue with the sorry spiel.

“Rain check?” she offered.

His smile was a relieved one. “Definitely,” he said, letting a parting kiss graze her cheek. “I’ll text you.”

Once he was gone, Emma let her fingers trace the all-too-brief path his lips had tracked across her skin, considering the untouched whisky he’d left behind. She took a sip, letting it burn its way down into her chest. Added some water. Then let the rest follow, warming her from the inside out.

So I see your shiner, and raise you one bruised forehead. I didn’t antagonize anyone though, my life is just a comedy of errors. We probably shouldn’t be seen together for a while, or people will assume we’ve joined an underground Fight Club or something. ES

Really? Nothing? ES

Did you seriously fall asleep before 10 on a Saturday? I’m almost disappointed. ES

You are asleep, aren’t you? Because if you somehow sustained a concussion, and fell into a coma I’ll feel really bad. ES

Please text me tomorrow and tell me that isn’t the case. ES

On the other hand, if through some miracle you still managed to “pull a bird” even with that grotesque black eye, and are currently warming her bed, I’d rather not hear the details. As you were. ES

Just… don’t be in a coma. ES

Good morning. Not in a coma. I promise. KJ

With the semester over, and a couple of weeks left until she had to teach any summer school modules, Emma Swan found herself with a serious problem. Free time. A lot of it.

Huge swathes of empty hours when she had nothing to focus on except her lack of a social life, her lack of a sex life, and how her academic future lay in the hands of a bunch of 18 year olds who could only be convinced to fill out their evaluation forms with the inducement of a prize draw to win a free iPad.

If only she hadn’t just dropped a large chunk of change on her flight home for Christmas, she could’ve gone somewhere. The Continent. London. Instead she settled for an off-peak train to Glasgow, sheltering from yet another torrential downpour in the baroque confines of the Kelvingrove Museum.

Ever since she was a young, Emma had always loved museums. Very few places let a skinny kid with hand-me-down clothes and a permanent scowl linger for hours at a time in the middle of a blizzard. It felt like everywhere she went, she was being shadowed by security guards and shopkeepers, just waiting for her to make a wrong move.

Museum attendants, though? They were always looking to indoctrinate the next generation.  And growing up in the North East, there’d been no shortage of monuments and exhibitions devoted to freedom-loving America’s heroic triumph over Britain.

Back then, it had seemed like a Cinderella story to her. Better than a Cinderella story, even, because instead of balls and dresses and true love, there’d been something worth fighting for. There’d been the scrappy underdog winning against the guy with all the money and fancy uniforms.

She was old enough now to know she’d been projecting, but it didn’t seem to matter anyhow. The course had been set, the die cast. Emma was a history nerd, and she liked museums. The faint whiff of epoxy, the lingering scent of cosmoline. Mothballs and musty books. It was home, in a way a single place had never been.

Even the crowds of dripping tourists couldn’t ruin this for her, as she narrowly ducked out of the way of a visiting tour group, crowded around a canvas Emma had once written a paper on in Art History 101.

“Suck it in!” the tour operator declared, in aberrant English. “Now there are some who might say this painting is ‘kitschy’ but I let you make up your own mind. But it is, without doubt, the most enduring vision of the crucifixion painted in the 20th century. Notice the triangle? A clear reference to the Holy Trinity. And do you see the circle?”

The crowd leaned in, chattering excitedly between themselves as each layer of meaning was revealed, as the origins of the work were discussed and debated.

This. Emma had missed this. She’d spent so much time lately repeating the same tired lectures to the same uninspired freshmen, she’d almost forgotten what it was like to really just enjoy the art. The history. The mysteries that lingered inside half-forgotten volumes and coded diaries, still waiting to be discovered.

And with that, Emma thought she might just have an idea. Her best one in a while.

I’m dying, Swan. Dying. KJ

Before our year is up? You wouldn’t give me the satisfaction. ES

True. KJ

Still feel bloody awful though. KJ

I’ll never forgive Lachie for bringing this plague upon this house. KJ

Aren’t you his godfather? ES

Details, love. KJ

Emma didn’t make a habit of turning up unannounced in well-heeled neighborhoods, her bag crammed with every over-the-counter cold medicine available in Boots. On the whole, she preferred her own more derelict side of town, her bag drug free. But Killian had just sounded so pathetic in his texts she’d somehow convinced herself it would be a good idea to check up on him.

It was stupid. She was stupid. And as she heard the approaching slap of bare feet against the hardwood floors from within Killian’s ridiculous mansion, she quickly debated the merits of just making a run for it.

No, she wasn’t a kid anymore. She didn’t just knock on people’s doors and run away as fast as she could. She was an adult. Bearing medicine. It wasn’t that weird.

Fortunately, before she had to talk herself down again the door swung open.

Emma was aware of Elsa Jones. She’d clocked the wedding portrait sitting on the mantelpiece last time. The Nordic beauty with more money than God, and no bad angles. The owner of the bluest of blue eyes, that put even Killian’s to shame. She sat on the periphery of Killian’s tales of his crazy family, always a benevolent presence, a peacemaker. An ally.

But if Emma had the good sense to be intimidated by her two-dimensional mental rendering of Elsa Jones, it was nothing compared to the reality that stood in the Jones’ front foyer, giving Emma the skeptical once-over.

It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. Or the way she wore her designer loungewear, with just the right amount of casual elegance. Not even the way she held herself, with posture right out of a Swiss finishing school. It was that first, frosty look.

The one that caught Emma in its wake and rendered her mute, as her carefully opening lines died on the vine. The woman waited, silent but expectant.

“Hi, I’m-” Emma cleared her throat, and tried again. “Sorry, hi. I’m Emma. Is Killian up for receiving visitors?”

She would ordinarily have stuck out a hand at this juncture, anything to punctuate the grotesque silence. But both of her hands were occupied with bags, and even reaching for the knocker had been painful enough.

“Emma,” Elsa repeated, letting the word settle on her tongue like a new vocabulary word. And then her entire aspect seemed to thaw, as the name registered. “You mean #FindEmmaSwanAFriend Emma?”

Clearly Killian’s column had at least one reader who wasn’t an octogenarian.

“Uh, yup.” At a loss for what else to say, Emma held up the bags she’d lugged all the way from the high street. “I uh, I was just bringing some stuff over for Killian, but if he’s not up for visitors I could just leave it with-”

But before Emma could make with the hasty retreat, there came the sound of frantic footsteps behind her and she turned to see none other than the patient in question, barefoot and limping from contact with the gravel driveway.

“Swan?”

Sick Killian was a study in contrasts. On one hand, the sweatpants, bed-head thing was a good look on him. But there was definitely a sheen, a pallid tinge to his complexion that hinted of a drawn-out conflict against foreign antibodies. But it was the T-Shirt that really stole the show. The one with the cartoon Tyrannosaurus Rex on the front catching some Z’s, with the caption: Dino-Snore.

Emma resisted the urge to dig out her phone and take a picture, for posterity’s sake. But she couldn’t quite stop the grin spreading across her face.

“Dino-snore?”

He scowled, but whatever snide comeback he had forming on his lips died a swift death when he caught the look in his sister-in-law’s eye. With a roll of his eyes, Killian propped the door open, and motioned for Emma to come inside.

“Swan, my sister-in-law, Elsa Jones,” he said, with a weary wave of his hand. “Elsa, this is the eponymous Emma Swan.”

Now things were official, Emma dumped her bags down onto the area rug, and held out a hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the blonde replied, a perfectly manicured hand finding Emma’s own. “I’ve been reading Killian’s columns, of course, but it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Elsa’s grip was firm, confident, even if her hands were a little cold. Poor circulation, maybe.

Killian gave a pointed cough, a hand coming up to scratch up behind his ear. “Well, this is all very civilized. So, what brings you to our plague den, lass?”

Emma looked from Elsa, back to Killian. “Speaking of which, why were you outside? I thought you were practically at death’s door?”

Killian hesitated, and that was when Elsa stepped in, a sardonic smile in place. “Killian’s room has its own entrance. He probably thought he could intercept you before we ever came into contact.” She turned to her brother-in-law with a shrug. “Too slow.”

Emma liked her immediately.

“Would you like something to drink, Emma?” Elsa asked suddenly. “Tea? Coffee? A glass of water?”

Yeah, someone had definitely been drilled in the finer points of etiquette as a child. But before Emma could decline the offer, Killian took a step forward, interrupting her. “She’ll take a water, love. And any chance you’d fix me up another Lemsip?”

Elsa’s eyes narrowed, but after shooting Killian a meaningful glance, she plastered on a smile. “I’ll be right back,” she assured Emma, before disappearing down the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

“So…” Emma began, lamely.

“So…” Killian finished, no better. “Been shopping?” he asked at last, pointing out the bags she’d abandoned earlier.

“Oh, those. They’re, uh, they’re for you.”

“Me?” He knelt down to peek inside one of the bags. “Did you just bring me industrial-sized quantities of phenylephrine, love?”

Well, when he put it like that it sounded weird.

“Erm, I guess? And some tea. Mary Margaret swears by it when you’re sick, and I just had it laying around and-”

“Swan?” he interrupted, before she could make any more excuses.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t mean to upset you, but I think we might be friends.”

#cs ff #cs au #findemmaswanafriend #it's been a while #you still with me?

[emmanuely494003]

Using Any Office Assistant With Microsoft Outlook 2003

This must always be finding. Before you do anything else, backup all your files on the old server. Back up your text files, image files, and database. May possibly take several hours, with regards migrate exchange to office 365 the size of one's website. Everywhere number of obvious potential customers and prospects. Make a list of influencers within your market and think about strategies achieve them and office 365 private cloud a relationship with these guys. There's no private branding or resale of Office 365. It's 100% direct bill from Microsoft. You do not get to mark it up. It is then hard to incorporate in a fully managed service agreement incidentally. Microsoft really needs repair this to enhance adoption by Managed Providers (MSPs). Dedicating just one hour everyday to look at your business, would add office 365 private cloud hours for growing your business enterprise. or an extra 45 days in. 9 WHOLE WEEKS eligible your practice optimization. Just from creating more and focusing one hour per working! The main diamonds are the best investment is the factthat the diamond sector is a monopoly that has controlled the price of the past fifty quite a few. Emeralds used to be controlled to a certain degree from Columbia but that ended in 1998. In Brazil, a person small, coloured stone mines that will sell their merchandise for the best price these people could get once they need bucks. I've seen some coloured stone prices drop by 50% until recently five many decades. Diamonds, however, are controlled, an issue price of "rough uncut diamonds" rising at least 20% per annum to site holders. Tend to be two fewer than 100 site holders globally who may buy diamond rough only 10 times per new year. They, in turn, manufacture the rough into cut and polished diamonds that are then purchased from your local jewellery dealers. There's no private branding or resale of Office Office365 support. It's 100% direct bill from Microsoft. You aren't getting to measure the level up. This will make it hard to use in a fully managed service agreement that brings to mind. Microsoft really needs to repair this increase adoption by Managed Companies (MSPs). How should the videos play back? Well you could use Windows Media Player or equivalent video playing software packages. The format for this videos might be in WMV or Avi format. Each video become played back on the computer by storing it on your own own hard use. A better option is to watch the videos online. Whatever format is used, flick should be playable at full screen if directed. Well, that's was end of our little walk between Kathmandu and Tibet. See ya on Freak Street one of these simple days. Maybe we could try hiking the Annupura Circuit Trek or the Everest Bace Camp so when. I suggest planning together with end in your head. Most people start a business or get involved as an opportunity owner healthcare priorities . feel discovered that do a superior job by working for themselves. However, say Office365 support really is a common to find that a majority of people am not aware of exactly what they're looking develop a when they start a organization. A real tip for managing mental interruptions might be to do a mental download of all kinds of things you need or can do in all facets of your world. Combine this with the reality that "most things are finished with to performed today," and you will then see that doesn't only talking about a pretty long list, but several things from your list may need to wait weeks, months, or even years. Does that mean you should just forget about them? And whether that hotel has a roof deck or not, chances are Office365 support's not filled with new friends buying various other rounds. Then there's no doubt, it's 10 x as expensive as your friendly little hostel. Her company, Austin-based DMS & Associates, provides outsourced bookkeeping, accounting and tax preparation services. Kimberlee, a CPA for easily 20 years, is meticulous, timely and financially clever. I have held my CPA certification for longer than 20 years too. Problem is, We're never simple with details. If it was close enough, it was good so much. You don't want me since your accountant. And for that reason I stopped practicing public accounting a long time ago and just sell business software. Web domain serves can register your domain in many cases or you can preserve your domain at a registrar that is separate from the hosting service. A person don't keep your domain at a service other than your hosting account, ideas a little more flexibility down the road and has no impact on the performance or associated with you internet hosting account. If the having excessive sweaty palms or palmar hyperhidrosis, may want to just find your solution here. Here, I will share along with you how after more than twenty involving suffering from excessive hand sweat twenty four hour by 7 days, 365 days a year, I finally managed end sweaty care. Relish the simple joys of life - everything does not have to be a destroy. The key here is finding something in your work that you would like enjoy. If you are happy with what are generally doing, may can never call that work.

[robertmcangusgroup]

The Daily Thistle

The Daily Thistle – News From Scotland

Sunday 28th January 2018

Hello, Good Morning and Welcome….  I’ll let you guess what Sunday was named after. No, go ahead; I’ll wait. Come on…it’s big, gassy, and orange; and it’s not your uncle on Halloween.

GLASGOW PRIMARK SELLING BASEBALL CAPS EMBLAZONED WITH THE WORD ‘HUN’…. A branch of Primark in Glasgow is attracting attention on social media - because of a three-letter word on hats for sale in the store. A tweet by Glasgow-based journalist Aoife-Grace Moore showed a picture of a grey baseball cap with the word ‘Hun’ on the front of it. Ms Moore accompanied her photo with the caption: “Dear Primark Glasgow: This is a very very bad idea.” Although the word is ordinarily recognised as a shortened version of the word ‘honey’, it has an alternative meaning in Glasgow, having been used as a derogatory slur against Protestants and Rangers supporters. In June 2016, fans of the Ibrox club lobbied to make the use of the word in a footballing context a hate crime, and viewed in the same light as ‘fenian’, a derogatory term for Catholics. Research carried out by communications regulator Ofcom later that year deemed ‘hun’ to be inoffensive, describing it as: “Mild language, generally of little concern. However, seen as less acceptable by those familiar with the history and use of the term as a sectarian insult.” However, in 2015, then Celtic striker John Guidetti was charged by the Scottish FA over a TV interview he conducted with a Dutch broadcaster, in which he repeated the words of a song that Celtic supporters had sung which included the term.

PRINCE WILLIAM’S NEW BUZZ CUT ‘COST £180’…. The Duke of Cambridge’s new haircut reportedly cost as much as £180. Members of the public got their first look at Prince William’s closely cropped hair as he launched a health programme at Evelina London Children’s Hospital on Thursday. READ MORE: Meghan Markle gets an apron as first official Royal gift It is understood the heir to the throne, 35, opted for a buzz cut after receiving advice from the Duchess of Cambridge’s hairdresser, Richard Ward. Mr Ward charges a base fee of £125 for a men’s cut and finish, his website states. According to The Sun, the cut was reportedly carried out by Joey Wheeler, one of Mr Ward’s deputies, during a private session at Kensington Palace. Younger brother Prince Harry, 33, has openly joked about William’s receding hairline and once said: “I think he definitely is brainier than I am - but we established that at school, along with his baldness.”

CALLS FOR RETHINK AS HOLYROOD PIGEONS NOW ‘WISE’ TO BIRDS OF PREY…. HOLYROOD bosses have been urged to think again about their decision to spend £80,000 on using birds of prey to scare pigeons away from the Scottish Parliament building over the next five years. Hawks and falcons are brought in regularly to fly over the parliament in a bid to deter pigeons from making it their home – but MSPs claim the pigeons have got wise to the practice and now just wait for the birds to be driven off by their handler before settling back on the roofs and ledges of the £414 million building. The parliament has renewed its maintenance contract – of which the birds of prey are now a part – for another five years with a possible two-year extension. Overall pigeon numbers are thought to have been reduced as far as they are likely to go, but the parliament believes the hawks and falcons are necessary to stop them increasing again. However, Lothian Tory MSP Miles Briggs, a member of the cross-party animal welfare group at Holyrood, said it was time to reconsider spending so much money on a bird handler coming to Holyrood and flying birds of prey. “I don’t think they have looked at how effective it is actually being,” he said. “For a lot of building users it has become a bit of a joke. The pigeons are sitting up on Arthur’s Seat waiting for him to go away. “The pigeons seem to be quite bright. The effectiveness of him turning up now and again is questionable at least.”

SCOTTISH RESEARCHERS ISSUE QUIDDITCH HEALTH WARNING…. It’s the biggest sport in the wizarding world, but now muggles have been issued with a safety warning. Quidditch, the fictional sport played on broomsticks in the Harry Potter series has found a following among non magic folk (muggles) across the world.  They may not be able to take to the skies like their literary counterparts but the past time is still fraught with hazards, a health study has found. The research - led by Edinburgh University’s medical school - issued a warning about the competitive nature of the game. A paper in the International Journal of Sports Physical Therapy found it can lead to high rates of concussion among players, prompting experts to draft guidelines to improve the game’s safety. In the fictional version players use flying broomsticks. Quidditch is a fast growing, physically intense, full-contact sport. Originally adapted from JK Rowling’s novels, quidditch was first played in 2005 in the USA but is now played worldwide. Two teams attempt to get a ball, the ‘quaffle’, through tall standing hoops. The game only ends when ends if another ball, the ‘snitch’ is caught. A total of 348 participants of 684 eligible quidditch players responded to the health study. There were 315 injuries reported by 180 athletes in total, an overall incidence of 4.06 injuries per 1,000 hours of play. A statistically significantly different rate of concussion was observed with female athletes in the mixed gender sport sustaining more concussion than males. Over 20 per cent of quidditch injuries reported were described as ‘concussion’.

PETER PAN HOUSE PROJECT FUNDING BID BACKED…. A council has endorsed a bid for a final slice of funding to help create a national centre for children's literature in Dumfries. It has applied for £600,000 to help complete the last phase of conversion work on the Moat Brae mansion. The gardens of the building were credited by JM Barrie for helping to inspire him to write Peter Pan. Dumfries and Galloway Council has already given £500,000 towards the scheme but is seeking further funds. A report to the local authority said £7.4m was now in place towards the major overhaul of the site. However, the additional £600,000 is needed to complete the project. The Scottish government's Regeneration Capital Grant Fund (RCGF) has been identified as a potential source of funding but it is only open to local authority applications. The council has submitted a bid with the outcome expected to be known by March. If it is successful, the local authority will be required to monitor the project and submit a post-completion evaluation of the scheme. It has therefore agreed to update its service level agreement with the Peter Pan Moat Brae Trust should the funding bid be approved.

On that note I will say that I hope you have enjoyed the news from Scotland today,

Our look at Scotland today..It was bitterly cold when Derek Coull photographed the sunrise at Aberdeen beach on Tuesday. Within hours it was snowing, he said.

A Sincere Thank You for your company and Thank You for your likes and comments I love them and always try to reply, so please keep them coming, it's always good fun, As is my custom, I will go and get myself another mug of "Colombian" Coffee and wish you a safe Sunday 28th January 2018 from my home on the southern coast of Spain, where the blue waters of the Alboran Sea washes the coast of Africa and Europe and the smell of the night blooming Jasmine and Honeysuckle fills the air…and a crazy old guy and his dog Bella go out for a walk at 4:00 am…on the streets of Estepona…

All good stuff....But remember it’s a dangerous world we live in

Be safe out there…

Robert McAngus

[nancyxvalentine]

Greetings From Iceland!

After not getting any sleep on our 6 hour flight from MSP to KEF, James, Kaitlyn, Dan and I began our first day in Iceland at 7:00 am. We were pleasantly surprised to find out that Iceland Customs is nothing like American Customs in that the staff that checked out documents were pleasant to work with and shuffled us through quickly. We picked up our checked baggage and eventually found our way to the Yellow Shuttle Bus that took us to our rental car agency.

We picked up our 7 passenger Kia Serento (which fit the 4 of us and our luggage perfectly) and headed toward Rykavik. Without any particular plans in mind, we ended up at Hallgrímskirkju Lutheran Church (pictured above) to watch the sunrise from the top of the tower! The view was absolutely fantastic, but the chill from the high altitude drafts were so cold that I headed down a few floors after a short while to catch the views from the clock tower level.

When we left we all realized how cold we were and stopped at a local petrol station to grab hot coffee and add on wamer layers. After changing and spending too much money on Icelandic chocolate treats (mostly talking about myself here), we loaded into the vehicle and began our trek to see the gysers in Arnessysia. The landscape in Arnessysia was absolutely beautiful! The horizon was filled with purple and pink capped mountains that were just barely visible through the steam of the exploding gysers!

The weather in Iceland hovered around -1 Celsius for the majority of the day, which would have been bearable for the most part, but due to the cold blasts of ocean wind, we ended up shivering and struggling a bit more than desired. There was a gift shoppe on location at the Gysers, and even though I brought a bomber hat, I ended up purchasing the cute "Iceland" beanie pictured above because it was SO MUCH WARMER. Praise, Jesus!

There's only about 6 or so hours of sunlight to enjoy here in the winter months, so after watching the gysers burst a few times, we hopped back in the car to head to check out a couple of super cool waterfalls on the way to our Hostel in Vik. At one point during our commute the whole clan was simply in awe of the beauty of our surroundings! So much so that we were compelled to pull over to take photos. Well, James ended up picking out the PERFECT side road to park on because after snapping a few photos of the majestic horizon, we turned around and saw a team of horses behind a fence trotting toward us! We spent some time sharing some crackers with them and enjoying caressing their luscious manes.

We eventually parted ways with the pretty ponies and went on our way toward Vik. We found the largest waterfall (of the 4 we were scheduled to pass) and stopped to capture some photos! There was a stairway to heaven (not really, but practically) that I was NOT intending on climbing...but ended up climbing and snapping a killer photo of some amazing views! By the time I finally made my way down the eternal stairway of forever-ness, the gang was waiting patiently in the car for me. We took off toward Vik and ended up struggle-bussing on our hunt for the hostel. After consulting some wait-staff at a local restaurant and being instructed to "go beyond the darkness," we looped around a few dead-end cul-de-sacs and eventually found the place we will call "home" for the next two nights.

We checked in and thanked the Lord for clean water, hot showers and somewhat comfy bunkbeds and headed to the closest restaurant for drinks and dinner. Kaitlyn tried a local aquavit (she said it tasted like caraway and was very refreshing), Dan and James enjoyed an Icelandic beer, and I cherished my more-than-hefty serving of a delightful Shiraz. With full tummies, happy hearts and exhausted bodies we're all settled in for the night to rest up for a full tomorrow.

What an incredibly packed first day! I'm so excited to see what fills the rest of our week! Thanks for reading along!

Cheers, Nancy

[peterabell]

The MSPs not troubled by the electorate

There’s been talk amongst SNP MSPs and MPs about changing the way the Scottish parliament list system works. They’re fed up that some folk stand at election after election, often coming third or even fourth but then entering parliament anyway on their party’s list.

I initially viewed this as a bit of light political fun; SNP MPs taking a pop at parties who can’t win constituency seats. But the more you think about it today, the more there does seem to a problem which really does threaten public confidence in the Scottish parliament. The election system for the Scottish parliament does indeed seem to be being abused by a class of MSP which seems to be treating the voting system and voters with contempt. Perhaps it is time MSPs took a serious look at it.

Peter A Bell's insight:

While I'm far from convinced that British Labour's motives in devising Scotland's electoral system were all that 'noble', the phrase "a cynical abuse of a system designed for a noble purpose" does seem to perfectly describe the situation that has developed.

 This is one of these situations which is personally gratifying n that it allows me to demonstrate how open-minded I am. Like Eric Joyce, I used to be quite content with the list system. While there were obvious issues with it - primarily the risk of having two classes of MSP - I regarded this as having been adequately addressed by parliamentary rules and not enough of a problem to outweigh the advantages of proportionality and diversity.

 I've changed my mind. Once, I would chastise people for treating list MSPs as inferior. Over time, this insistence on parity grew increasingly forced and false until I reached the point where it became just too much of a denial of reality to be sustained.

 That undeniable and unacceptable reality is, perhaps, most starkly illustrated by the now well-publicised case of Murdo Fraser. An individual replete with the smug pomposity and contemptuous audacity that stems from being accountable to nobody other than the sycophants in his own party.

 There are others, of course. I wouldn't pump up Murdo Fraser's already over-inflated ego by suggesting that he was capable of single-handedly bringing Scotland's parliament into disrepute. But he serves to illustrate what now has to be recognised as a serious issue.

 A large and important part of the legacy of the first independence campaign is a more engaged electorate. The inertia of apathy, that great enemy of democracy, has been at least to some extent overcome by the momentum of the Yes movement. People have been awakened to the power that they hold. They have been given a glimpse of their own potential for political effectiveness. It would be a tragedy if this well of new-found confidence and spirit were to be poisoned by a cynical abuse of the electoral system.

 It is no longer possible to pretend that list MSPs such as Murdo Fraser, Anas Sarwar and Adam Tomkins can enjoy the same status as constituency MSPs. To attempt to continue the pretence is to mock the intelligence of voters who can see for themselves just how much of a charade this is. Something has to change.

 But we must be cautious about throwing the bonny baby out with the murky bathwater. However flawed it may be, proportional representation has facilitated the development of Scotland's distinctive political culture. Any reform of the electoral system must not put this in jeopardy. The aim must be to devise a system which rids us of the Murdo Frasers but allows us to keep the Patrick Harveys.

 It's a phrase which has been rendered an intensely irritating bit of politician-speak by its use as means of suggesting a policy is flawed without offering any alternative solution, but I'm obliged to say it anyway. We need to have a debate.

[adriennefrank]

Abdul

"Ring this bell

Three times well

the toll to clearly say:

My treatments are done

Its course has run

and I am on my way"

The bell mocked me from the other side of the waiting area in the newly built facility as I walked in that first day.  Though the atrium, right outside the doors, was flooded with sunlight pouring in, this comfortable room relied on unnatural bulbs.  The snack bar in the corner was fully stocked with processed foods and high fructose drinks.  This always felt odd to me.  Why would they offer such unhealthy options to people who are trying to get healthy?

I wanted to run up and grab the cord attached to the clapper and ring that bell.  More than three times.  I wanted to ring it until everyone in the waiting room looked over.  I didn't want to wait until my 30 treatments were done.  In fact, I didn't want to have thirty treatments.  Thirty more treatments.  On top of the thirty and thirty I had already faced.

Radiation sucks.  And I am so terrified of it.  In a way that surgery doesn't scare me.  How will my body stand up to this toxic beam that is destroying this mapped out area of my face and neck?  What side effects will I suffer due to the unknown?  Will radiation follow the path of DDT?

One doctor is convinced that my right jawbone died because of the two full rounds of radiation it endured.  We will never know.  Cancer attacked the bone and it's gone.  To where, I have no idea.  A medical research laboratory?  An incinerator? Gone.  Would the same happen to my left bone?

I knew what the next six weeks, plus six months would hold.  Pain.  Loss of appetite.  Taste changes.  Pushing back on doctors.  Dry mouth.  Fatigue.  Extreme fatigue.  I had done it before and I didn't want to do it again.  But my doctors held out hope for a cure, and the Lord knows I would have done anything at that point.  So, radiation it was.

The unfortunate fact (although at that time it seemed most facts were quite unfortunate), was that this amazing new, state of the art, medical facility was approximately 90 miles from my home.  And I had to go there every day, Monday through Friday, for six weeks.  Thirty trips.

Jan came over in the July heat with her notebook.  "How can we help?  What do you need?"  The most pressing issues: child care, meals, and rides to Rochester.  She took the needs and ran.  Ran to friends, family, strangers, searching for help.  I had no idea how I was going to get to treatment each day while carrying the burden of side effects.

My people responded, just as they have every time.  So many wanted to help, but most had jobs that kept them from being able to physically drive me to my daily appointments.  Jan worked with the responders and coordinated dates and times while I checked into transportation options to fill in all the gaps.   There was a shuttle that ran from the Mall of America, but I would still have to get myself to the mall and find a parking space, which I knew might be more than I could handle on some days.  Hell, it's right up there with about as much as I can handle most days.  Not to mention the cost: $800.  I knew that people would want to help with the cost, but boy am I tired of asking for help.  I even checked into daily flights from MSP to Rochester.  Wasn't there some high-level executive, some Mayo doctor that flew his own plane in each morning with an extra seat for me?  Not the most safe of all options, but I wouldn't complain.  Now, that would have been the good life.

I voiced my concerns to the social worker who had been assigned to help me.   "How do people do it?" I implored.  "It's impossible."

Karen gave me a number to call.  There was a possibility that my insurance could help, she said.  Medical transportation.  

I called.  I was approved.  From August of 2016 to August of 2017, my insurance would help me get to every doctor's appointment that I needed to.

It was hard to wrap my head around this amazing gift.  I would have my own personal driver that would drive me to Mayo each day.  The story was worth sharing with everyone I met.  It felt like a miracle.  I didn't even know this benefit existed and now I don't have to worry about driving or coordinating a ride or finding some millionaire with a plane.  Even now, months later, as I think back on this, it feels unreal.  And while I have been so angry with God over my lot in life, this feels like He handed me a diamond.  He pried my tight fists open and laid this jewel on my palm. 

I set up my transportation as the start date grew closer.  I didn't have any preference for a transportation company, so they just set me up with any old one.  Days later, I wondered if this company happened to have the availability for a reason.

They continuously showed up late, even after I would call them that morning to remind them I needed a ride.  The drivers didn't speak much English, which isn't the most horrible of sins, but when you are car sick and need to get out of the vehicle immediately, English is pretty important.  Speed limits were mere suggestions to them.  One of my drivers wove around cars on 35W going 80 MPH (where the speed limit is 55).  I asked him to slow down, recalling the previous car sickness as well as the highway patrol cars that line the path to Rochester.

"I'm just trying to get you to your appointment on time!", he sharply replied.

"Well, if you had been on time to pick me up, you wouldn't need to speed," I responded.  "Please slow down!"

I can't remember the exact number of chances I gave them.  It may have been four or five.  I called the transportation coordinator back and told them I needed rides from a different company, citing my complaints.

That night I got a call from an unfamiliar 651 number.

"Hello, my name is Abdul, and I will be picking you up tomorrow to drive you to the Mayo Clinic."

It certainly was nice of him to call the night before, but would he actually remember to pick me up the next day?  I had very low expectations.  

The sky was overcast and gray the next morning when a silver van pulled up in front of my condo building.  There was a sign on the side, noting the name of the medical transportation company.  I cautiously climbed inside.

The driver introduced himself in a kind, accented voice.  I think I thanked him for being on time and mentioned my past experience with medical transportation.  As we merged onto 35W, I asked this stranger if he was planning to be my permanent driver or if it might change day-to-day.  He responded that if I wanted him to drive me each day, he would.  I thanked him, but then feared that I had too quickly signed on with this unknown person.  What if he ate stinky food really loudly during the entire ride?  Or subjected me to techno music?  Or was a serial killer that was looking for his next victim?

Abdul carried on a very polite conversation as we drove south.  I can't remember what I shared about myself, but I remember learning about his family, the places he lived, his love for travel, his previous employment, and so many other topics.  I despise small talk, but I truly enjoyed learning about this new person.

Other than being about the same age, we couldn't have been more different.  After being born in Ethiopia and living in Africa for several years, his family relocated to The Netherlands.  Then, after his father passed away, his mother and siblings all moved to Minnesota.  I, on the other hand, had spent my entire life in the good ol' US, never travelling to explore new cultures or lands.  I tried to keep track of his siblings, but between my painkillers and the fact that he had what seemed to be siblings upon siblings upon half-siblings, it was no easy feat.  Compared to my one brother and one sister, holidays at his home sounded quite a bit more exciting.  Different religions.  Different personalities.  Different backgrounds.  Different life experiences.  Different careers.  Other than our October birthdays, there wasn't much we had in common.

And yet, these rides became the high point of my day.  Some days I slept, but most days we talked.  We spent the drive discussing politics, cancer, family, and travel.  I introduced him to Etsy.  He introduced me to the newest models of cars as he debated what type he would buy next.  We spent many hours while he educated me on Islamic holy days and the inter workings of his small business.  I educated him on cancer and radiation treatments.  With the election on the horizon, we discussed the joke known as Donald Trump and our disbelief that he had supporters.

I never had to call to remind him that I needed a ride to Rochester; he was organized and kept track of my appointment times.  He always pulled up to my curb with the headrest of the front passenger seat pulled off, so I could see out the windshield in an attempt to avoid the dreaded motion sickness.  When pain drove me to the ER, he offered me a ride in his silver van.  Always reliable, always kind.

I thought I knew what to expect when I went through radiation.  I knew all the negative side effects and pain that would follow from this treatment.  I had done it before.  Didn't I call myself a "cancer expert" with an air of arrogance and sarcasm?  And yet, I hadn't expected that deep in the heaviness of fighting for my life, I would meet a stranger who would become an ally.  

So, when day 30 of my radiation treatments arrived, I knew Abdul needed to celebrate with me.  He had put in almost as much work as I had, driving hours upon hours to make sure I reached my appointments safely and on time.  This was his victory too.  

After that final blast of the radiation beam, I walked out into the waiting area and stood near the bell, waiting for Abdul to join me.  Once there, I grabbed the cord and rang it "loud and clear", wanting the whole world to know what I had accomplished. What we had accomplished. My treatment was done and as the poem reads, "I was on my way." Literally.  With a new friend. 

#cancer #radiation #mayo clinic #rochester

[mathematicianadda]

Combinatorics at Strathclyde

Two years ago, we enjoyed a successful British Combinatorial Conference at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow. For me it was memorable for several reasons: the appearance of my book “Notes on Counting”, my fall to the floor during the ceilidh, the booksale, and (more seriously) some fine lectures including Graham Farr’s lecture commemorating Bill Tutte’s centenary.

Now the Combinatorics group at Strathclyde (David Bevan, Sergey Kitaev and Einar Steingrímsson) is under threat.

I have received two documents; one on reshaping the Department of Computer and Information Sciences, signed by the Head of Department; and a response from the three members of the Combinatorics group.

The first document is pretty much what you might expect, with lots of fine words about “emerging vision”, “imperative”, “resources … aligned with opportunities for future growth”. Mathematics finds no place in this emerging vision. I quote:

Combinatorics is not considered to be of fundamental importance to UG-teaching. More broadly speaking, discrete mathematics is of fundamental importance but this can be covered by many staff (eg MSP, Data Analytics and Cybersecurity staff) in the Department.

And more along the same lines. In particular, the group is castigated for not getting “grants around a million pounds or more”. [How many mathematicians anywhere hold such grants?]

The response is a much better written and argued document. (Mathematicians, after all, have to be clear – it is an important part of the job – so I am not at all surprised by this.)

They point out that the three-member group is one of the very strongest research groups in the department, having produced 35% of the department’s four-star papers in the current REF and getting grant funding of close to a million pounds in the last four years. Moreover, discrete mathematics underpins computer science, and the group (being the departments only experts in the area) have developed courses for this. Members of the group have had important administrative roles in the department, having greatly improved systems for interacting with PhD students (criticised in an earlier report).

Moreover, combinatorics, or discrete mathematics (the terms are closer in meaning than the Head of Department seems to think, and if there is a difference, the group’s expertise is broader than “just combinatorics”) is perhaps the most applicable part of mathematics in the information age.

Last year, the Bond report, titled “The era of mathematics”, highlighted the importance of knowledge exchange in mathematics, argued (with many examples) that all parts of mathematics can have application, and pushed for a big increase in funding for mathematics, especially the training of PhD students and postdocs. The Council for the Mathematical Sciences has set up two committees to push forward with this, one to prioritise the recommendations in the Bond Report, and the other to convince policymakers of their importance. I would have thought that Strathclyde would be well-placed to benefit from this, if it is successful. (But not of course under the current reshaping plan.)

There have, sad to say, been several instances in Britain of universities closing down mathematics or getting rid of mathematicians in other ways. One incident that sticks in my mind, in a case where I was involved, occurred when the head of another department, at the start of an interview with the committee, said “I couldn’t hold up my head to be in a University with no mathematics department”. In another case, mathematics was closed down so that computer science could expand; this computer science department now finds that its main job consists of teaching arts students how to switch on the computer. (I exaggerate, but not too much.)

It seems to me that the Strathclyde proposal is a very short-sighted move, and unlikely to be in the department’s long-term interest. Moreover, there is plenty of evidence that collaboration between mathematicians (either a department of them, or a group in a computer science department) and informaticians can be of enormous benefit to both.

If you feel as I do, you may wish to know that the head of Computer and Information Sciences at Strathclyde is Professor Neil Ghani. I am sure you can find his address; you can probably even guess it. You may also wish to contact higher authorities in the University. These are our friends and colleagues; please help if you can.

from Peter Cameron's Blog http://bit.ly/2WY3XMd from Blogger http://bit.ly/2L1hnjk

#Blogger

[escapetocanada]

December musings

Well I’ll start out with the bad news. There’s been another set-back in me receiving my permanent residency card, which I need in order to get my social insurance number, which I need in order to work. So it looks like it will be two more months of waiting before all that gets resolved. All good thoughts and crossed fingers are appreciated. But moving on, healthcare! I am finally eligible for MSP (medical service plan), the provincial health insurance program. Since I know there’s always debate over is the Canadian healthcare system really cheaper than in the US I thought I’d share my numbers. First of all, Canada has universal coverage, not free healthcare; those are two different things. Everyone is eligible for coverage and everyone is required to be covered. Monthly enrollment costs in MSP are $37.50 for an individual. Comparatively I was having $140/month deducted from my pay check at Hopkins to cover my healthcare and that was through an employee plan, not a plan purchased on the exchange, which would have been more expensive. So yes, MSP is cheaper. But of course its not that simple. I take medication and in the US on my employee health plan I had prescription coverage which meant that I only paid $10/month for my meds. MSP does not include prescription coverage, people either pay out of pocket, get coverage from their employer or enroll in the provincial pharma program. I am not employed right now and not able to enroll in the provincial pharma program because I don’t have a SIN number (see above) so I am paying out of pocket. Here my medications cost $118/month. So when you add that to my monthly MSP cost it equals out to almost the same as what I was paying in the US ($5 more a month, actually, but also those numbers are in Canadian dollars). However, I will almost certainly get prescription coverage in the near future either through my employer or through the provincial pharma program and while that will cost me something it will likely be less than what I’m currently paying, so I will most likely wind up spending less on healthcare than I was in the US. This doesn’t even get into the savings seen when you actually wind up using health services (there aren’t any copays to see primary care providers and the amount that doctors and hospitals can charge for things like x-rays and blood work is regulated) so yes, healthcare is less expensive. And before anyone says the words wait times let me just say that we do have wait times for healthcare services in the US, we just call it “being too poor to be able to see a doctor/get treatment and waiting until you die”. The healthcare system here isn’t perfect (birth control isn’t free, for example, which I find pretty appalling, and IUDs are not covered by MSP) but its way better. It just objectively is. And the numbers show that too; life expectancy is higher in Canada than the US and the discrepancy in life expectancy between rich and poor is significantly less (its an 8 year discrepancy between high and low income earners in Canada vs 14 in the US, nearly double). So there’s the info on that.

You know what else is bad for your health? Murder! And Canada is better at addressing that issue as well. There was a recent news report here about how the national murder rate is at a 10 year high. That sounds pretty bad! How many murders is that, you might be asking. 660. That’s it. 660 murders for the whole country this year. In contrast Baltimore has had over 300 this year and that’s just one American city (albeit a city with a very high murder rate). But the population is so much lower, you might be saying. Yes it is, but the numbers are still lower even when looked at proportionally. In Canada the murder rate is 1.8 per 100,00 people. In the US the national average is 5.3, which is almost three times higher. And the biggest single thing that can be attributed to this difference is gun control. So yes, it really does reduce the murder rate when its harder to buy a gun, and no, that doesn’t mean no one in Canada has a gun. People have guns, people use guns, they just have a lot less of them and use them less to murder other people.

In terms of what I’m doing with my time, I recently toured the Dr. Peter Center, a local HIV/AIDS community care center and was completely blown away by the services offered there. They have a day center and a walk-in nurses station, two free meals a day, art therapy, music therapy, counseling, temporary and long term housing (12 short term beds, 12 long term beds) and a safe injection site and that’s just scratching the surface. Its truly amazing. I’m trying to secure a volunteer position with them so stay tuned for more info. Also my dad came to visit at the end of November and we went to a Canucks game, so I have officially been to a hockey game now. I’m pretty sure that’s a requirement should I ever apply for citizenship. Other than that I’ve been watching a lot of movies and listening to lots of podcasts. My new favorite podcast is This Podcast Will Kill You; its all about diseases and epidemics and is totally awesome.

That pretty much sums things up for me right now. I’m going to Portland the 22nd through the 29th to see folks and then I’m moving into my new apartment on Jan 1st (oh yeah, I found an apartment!) Photos to follow once I’m moved in. Until then enjoy this pic I took at the hockey game. Thanks for reading!

[longevitytechnologies-blog]

The Reality of Cyber Security and the Myth of Protection

***Authors note: I am a cyber nerd and not an author. Yes, you will find grammatical mistakes in the following piece and no, I do not care about it. I write just like I talk, at least that is what a middle school teacher told me once. What I care is that you get the underlying message! *** Most of the articles that we post at Longevity Technology are sourced and reposted from many of the major security news sites and blogs out there on the big www. Being honest and humble (read: true nerds), we always provide source links to the material that we repost to not only give credit where credit is due for the original words and/or opinions but also to help drive traffic to our sources which can be quantified in Google analytics where we can see the clicks that we are driving their way. I elaborate on this because, while we are always busy at Longevity Technology being a managed service provider and a true managed security services provider under one roof, I occasionally feel compelled to write something original based on the news of the world or interactions that I’ve had with my fellow nerds. This post is in the same category and was motivated by an article that I reposted yesterday from Bleeping Computer about the ransomware infection at COSCO, a major and worldwide shipping Corporation. I reposted this article late in the afternoon/early evening and as it was extremely fresh off the presses, and credit to Bleeping Computer for how quickly they hit the street with the information, I was still thrown by how quickly the clicks started adding up. The story went viral and our analytic show that we were part of that spread of information as we hit the social media scene and mass. So where am I going with this? Last night in the late evening I received a call from a lawyer that had come across our reposted article on social media. Yes, my heart sank, with the initial thought that this must be either a lawyer from COSCO or Bleeping Computer, who didn’t appreciate us being in the mix with a source article. Now granted by giving credit where credit is due we are not guilty of anything and again we drive significant traffic to our sources. After taking a deep breath listening to this caller explain why he was calling so late at night and realizing that I had one of two situations, I relaxed a little bit and enjoyed the conversation. What I had on the phone was either a lawyer who was extremely concerned about the ramifications of a major corporation, such as COSCO, getting infected and how can he as a small to medium-size business protect himself when major corporations can or I was getting catfish/socially engineered by a fellow MSP trying to discover who we were and why our reposted article was blowing up the way it was. After an hour and half conversation, in which this “lawyer” stated adamantly that he wanted his staff to be able to open any document without worry of any repercussions and that cybersecurity measures should be able to protect his environment regardless of what his staff does, electronically, and wanted to know what technology out there could provide that level of security and could be implemented for him. The funny thing to me is that this was his response to the following statement that I made: “there is no one technology in the security world that can 100% guarantee a truly safe environment. You can invest significantly in endpoint protection and then get hit by a zero-day attack. You can invest significantly in infrastructure protection and then get hit by a zero-day attack. You can invest in sandbox technology and then get hit by……. Wait for it……. A zero-day attack. A news article just came out today that showed an old piece of malware that when distributed with a recently discovered bug can actually recognize that it is being sandbox and wait for its payload distribution until it is moved out of the sandbox upon execution. So where does that leave us, especially in the lower budget small to medium-size business sector, as the single best preventative tool in the cybersecurity arsenal?” I paused here to allow my welcome caller to digest what I’d said and offer any thoughts that he had. Of course, this being a business owner who is not technical, he wasn’t offering any real thought other than the concept that he wanted total security in a single package that allowed his staff to do anything that they wanted without repercussion or threat. So, I continued: “The single most effective preventative measure in cyber security, that is shown in study after study to have the greatest effect on protecting a network of any type, whether that be home or business, is user awareness training.” Now of course, being the nerd that I am and having such a hard time understanding the end user’s perception of cybersecurity, or more correctly stated, the resistance by end-users, I was still amazed at his response of “I don’t have time for my staff to take awareness training. They are lawyers and not IT people.” I’ve heard that statement many times when discussing the concept of user awareness training, so you think I would not be allowing my jaw to hit the floor like I do every time I hear someone say this, but the reality is that we need to put this concept into perspective. I would like for you to take a guess at this math problem. If a lawyer’s billable rate is approximately $300 per hour and the simple awareness training of how to recognize a phishing/malware email from a legitimate email can be done in approximately 30 minutes, which of the following two options will cost a business more: the lost billable time of training 20 lawyers simultaneously for, let’s be conservative, one hour on differentiating between a malicious email and a legitimate email? Or having your server environment and those 20 lawyers’ laptops encrypted by ransomware? Hurry up, the final Jeopardy theme music is playing in the background. I could sit here and list study after study and research after research on the cost of recovery and downtime following a cybersecurity incident, but the answer to this question should be so blatantly obvious that I’m not going to waste my billable hour and digging up the links. Business owners and leaders must begin to recognize the value of user awareness training and that in the end that there is no cost comparison between training and infection outbreak. I sometimes compare it to sexual harassment training. Back in the day, organizations would simply pay off or let their insurance pay off any sexual harassment lawsuit that came their way but over time the cost and value of awards group to such a point that it forced the hands of business executives and owners to require sexual harassment training so that they could say that they were at least making an attempt to prevent it. Today, I cannot think of any organization that I have worked for in my career or entered as a service provider that did not have some form of required human resources-based training on sensitive topics of this nature. Now before I get jumped verbally or my email box blows up, I am not comparing the emotional and damaging impact of sexual harassment upon an individual to the financial implications of a cybersecurity incident. What I am comparing is that when an organization has an issue that they recognize as being preventable through education, the financial impact of that education is always significantly less than the impact/damage done by the lack of user education. For all that read this article, and yes, yes, I know I am long-winded, I want you to stop what you’re doing and put on your critical thinking cap. If you are a business owner, executive or in some leadership position within your organization. I want you to think about the concept of user awareness training versus the financial damage and reputation damage that would be caused by your organization’s name being plastered across all of the security blogs and social media outlets that exist. Is there any real comparison in the billable hour of your staff versus what can happen from a user opening an attachment in an email, because they didn’t know how to tell if that email had the potential of being malicious based on the content? I think the answer is obvious, the real question is why aren’t businesses rushing to provide this education? As a managed security services provider, we at longevity technology provide both the before and after technical response to security issues and incidents and I can tell you without a single doubt in my mind that, because we provide partner and web based user awareness training, that an ounce of prevention is worth so much more to your organization than what it will cost for me to come in and fix your incident that was preventable. Just think about it, you’ll get it!       Read the full article

#awareness #cyber #training #user

[euroman1945-blog]

The Daily Thistle

The Daily Thistle – News From Scotland

Saturday 26th May 2018

"Madainn Mhath” …Fellow Scot, I hope the day brings joy to you….  Slightly cooler this morning, with a gentle breeze blowing in off the ocean.. I love weather like this hot in the day and cool at  night makes for great sleeping… Scotland was hot yesterday I see 27c in parts equally as hot as the coast of the Costa del Sol… although Granada was 35c and Summer is not even here yet!

NEW WHISKY DISTILLERY IN MORAY 'LIKE NOTHING ELSE'…. A new landmark whisky distillery is "like nothing else in the world", according to the man responsible for one of the premium brands it will make. Scott McCroskie, the head of The Macallan brand, said the Speyside building was an "incredible" space. Edrington, the firm that owns Macallan, has taken the risk of closing down its old distillery. It has created an entirely new one less than 500m (547 yards) away, with precise copies of old copper stills. The new distillery, on the Easter Elchies estate near Craigellachie in Moray, has been camouflaged under a vast turf roof, to blend in with the rolling hillside. It is believed to be the most expensive in the country, going 40% over budget, with a total cost for the production facility and visitor centre of £140m. The ceiling consists of 2,500 panels, few of them the same. The roof, with 10cm (4in) depth of turf and meadow flowers, covers 14,000 sq m. Underneath are ventilation, vapour control, flexible waterproofing and irrigation systems. Under those is a complex ceiling structure comprising 2,500 panels, few of them the same. The distillery blends into the Speyside scenery The building was the subject of an international design competition won by Graham Stirk of Rogers, Stirk, Harbour & Partners. His inspiration for the different-sized mounds on the landscaped roof were Scotland's ancient brochs. Mr McCroskie said: "When you see the distillery, you will see it is like nothing else on Speyside, arguably like nothing else in the world."

FIFE BEACH 'WORST' FOR NURDLE POLLUTION….About 450,000 plastic pellets, known as "nurdles", have been found on a single beach in Fife as part of a UK-wide survey. North Queensferry, about 12 miles from the Ineos Polymers plant where nurdles are produced, recorded the largest number, weighing 9.35kg (20.6lb). In the marine environment, the pellets can be mistaken for food and eaten by fish and seabirds. Ineos has previously promised to ensure "zero pellet loss". Environmental charity Fidra arranged for volunteers to count the number of lentil-sized nurdles on 85 beaches around the British coast. The plastic beads, which range in colour, were found on 93% of locations surveyed. At North Queensferry, about 14 miles from Ineos at Grangemouth, across the Firth of Forth, there were so many nurdles that sieves were used to separate them from the rest of the beach. It took just two hours to gather the 450,000, with many more left uncollected. Alasdair Neilson from Fidra said: "It is shocking to see how prevalent nurdles are across the UK coastline. "While parts of industry have cleaned up their act, it is clear the status quo cannot solve this issue. "For nurdle pollution to be eliminated, responsibility and transparency is needed right across the supply chain." Nurdles are the raw materials used for the manufacture of most plastic products. They were found as far west as Barra and as far north as Collieston in Aberdeenshire. Concern has been growing about their impact on the environment since the BBC's Blue Planet 2 series highlighted the impact of plastics on marine life.

SCOTT HUTCHISON MURAL UNVEILED IN GLASGOW…. The mural will be on show until Sunday at Barras Art and Design A mural of Scott Hutchison was unveiled in Glasgow this weekend. Artist Michael Corr's tribute to the singer will be on show BAaD (Barras Art and Design) until Sunday after being first shown during Scottish Street Food Festival. The artist said he wanted to make a tribute to the Frightened Rabbit singer who died on 10 May. He said: "I knew that I wanted to create something colourful and expressive for Scott." He added: "I was grateful to have a big space to create the piece. I have a small painting studio so I was glad to have the opportunity to work on Scott's portrait at this scale. 'His music meant so much to people' "My wife Nikki helped paint the squares and a wee girl asked to help too. I gave her a bit of Scott's shirt to colour in." The artist wanted his work to be a tribute to the Frightened Rabbit singer. When asked to create some art for the festival he knew that it would be a tribute to Scott Hutchison after being given control over the subject. Created over two days, the installation of the singer was put in place by the artist to remember Scott Hutchison's music career and what his words meant to others.

FRESHWATER PEARL MUSSELS POACHED IN ASSYNT…. Several dozen freshwater pearl mussels have been killed by poachers in Assynt in the north west Highlands. Assynt Field Club said the shellfish were forced open in the "off chance" one or more might contain a pearl. The group said the poaching had happened at some point during the last two months. Freshwater pearl mussels, which are a protected species, play a part in healthy river ecosystems and are found in some of Assynt's rivers. Assynt Field Club urged anyone who believed they were witnessing illegal pearl hunting to call police, and not to approach the suspected poachers. Other incidents of poaching in recent years have included more than 100 being killed at a river south of Lochinver in the Highlands. Scottish Natural Heritage has previously warned that freshwater pearl mussels may be extinct from several rivers in Scotland due to poaching. Pearl mussels are similar in shape to common marine mussels, but can grow larger and live for up to 130 years in fast-flowing rivers. Early in their lifecycle they live harmlessly on the gills of young salmon and trout. Poaching, loss of habitat and pollution are among the reasons for dramatic declines in their numbers. Scotland's Highlands and Islands are among Britain's last strongholds for the critically endangered species. In history, Julius Caesar's admiration of pearl mussels is cited by his biographer as a motive for the first Roman invasion of Britain in 55BC.

FIRE CREWS TACKLE INDUSTRIAL ESTATE BLAZE IN PERTH….  Crews were called to a "large and well developed" fire within buildings in Friarton Bridge Park at about 00:50. A Scottish Fire and Rescue Service spokesman said seven appliances were in attendance at the height of the blaze. Police Scotland later tweeted that the fire had been fully extinguished.

SWAN POISONING SITE REMAINS A MYSTERY AFTER FAIRNINGTON DEATHS…. Tests have been unable to identify "where and when" a group of whooper swans found dead in the Borders ingested the lead which poisoned them. Sixteen bird carcases were found in the Fairnington area near Kelso between December 2017 and January this year. South of Scotland MSP Colin Smyth asked Environment Secretary Roseanna Cunningham about the incident. She said five of the swans had been found to have died from ingesting lead and had not been shot. "The cause of death for the remaining 11 whooper swans was not identified although, as they were found in exactly the same set of circumstances, it is highly likely they suffered the same fate," she said. "However, this could not be confirmed during post mortem due to the advanced state of decomposition in most of the carcases. "It is not possible to say where and when the swans ingested the lead." Ms Cunningham told Mr Smyth that the area where it might have happened was a large one. "It is understood the swans migrated from Iceland to the UK for the winter and the lead could have been ingested anywhere on that journey or before, during or after," she said. "There is no evidence to suggest the swans ingested the lead over a wetland area, although this remains a possibility. "There is no wildfowling undertaken at the location where they were found."

On that note I will say that I hope you have enjoyed the news from Scotland today,

Our look at Scotland today is of by Janina Dolny who took this picture on the way down from the viewing platform at the top of Charles Rennie Mackintosh's Lighthouse Building in Glasgow.….

A Sincere Thank You for your company and Thank You for your likes and comments I love them and always try to reply, so please keep them coming, it's always good fun, As is my custom, I will go and get myself another mug of "Colombian" Coffee and wish you a safe Saturday 26th May 2018 from my home on the southern coast of Spain, where the blue waters of the Alboran Sea washes the coast of Africa and Europe and the smell of the night blooming Jasmine and Honeysuckle fills the air…and a crazy old guy and his dog Bella go out for a walk at 4:00 am…on the streets of Estepona…

All good stuff....But remember it’s a dangerous world we live in

Be safe out there…

Robert McAngus #robertmcangus

#robertmcangus #robert mcangus #scotland #travel #news #blog #crime

[kim26chiu]

Northern Ambition: Young and Foreign in the Twin Cities Circa 1987

[ When I wrote about there being social factors other than the cold keeping people from moving to Minneapolis, Sami Karam, a Lebanese immigrant who now lives in New York City and posts insightful demographic analysis as his site Populyst, mentioned that he’d had similar experiences trying to fit in there when he lived in Minneapolis in the 1980s. I asked him if he’d write up his experience, and he graciously agreed. While this story is about 30 years old, I believe it still holds relevance today. You can also follow Sami on twitter at @sami_karm – Aaron. ]

“For how much longer will you go by Sami instead of Sam or Samuel?… Because after a certain age, a Robby, for example, would revert to a more grown-up name like Bob or Rob or Robert”, I was once asked and informed by a man in Minneapolis. My answer that Sami is a real first name, albeit not necessarily one that I favored over its variants, did not seem to satisfy him.

A decade later, when I started working on Wall Street and heard a similar comment, I found that this reaction to ‘Sami’ was not unique to the midwest or to the less diverse non-coastal US but that it was instead emblematic of cultures that were somewhat insular. Minneapolis did feel insular when I lived there as a young immigrant in 1986-88.

When Aaron Renn recently suggested that I write about my experience there, I was not sure that I could do a fair job of it. Would I use a chronology, as in a fragment of biography? Would I showcase the 1987 Twins triumph at home in game 7 of the World Series? How would I insert my fast weekend escapes to New York or L.A. on discounted fares that I bought in bulk from People Express ($45 to New York)? And my slow other weekends spent alone writing computer code in the office because I had nothing better to do?

When undecided, use data! So in the end, I settled on five main data themes. Minneapolis in 1986 was 1) cold, 2) flat, 3) remote, 4) rich, and 5) very white. The first four are still true today.

But first a few general comments.

Minneapolis was (is) a great place in many ways. The people around me were unfailingly kind. I liked the city’s well-designed infrastructure and amenities and its perennial ambition to turn itself into something bigger and better. “It wants desperately to be New York”, a Minnesotan college friend had volunteered before I moved there.

But after living there for two years, I was dubious. I thought that Minneapolis, though known as the ‘Minneapple’, was very happy just being Minneapolis. Further, if I want to be lucid, these same unfailingly kind people did not seem all that interested in me. I was an oddity in a place that seemed perfectly content without too many oddities.

As to Minneapolis becoming bigger and better, the most visible of the city’s major improvements, for example Cesar Pelli’s stunning Norwest (now Wells Fargo) Center then under construction, seemed destined to remain off bounds for the likes of me. I projected, rightly or wrongly, that were I to stay, it would take me a very long time to penetrate the higher circles of local industry.

Norwest (now Wells Fargo) Center. Image via Wikipedia/Public Domain

On the whole, my time in Minneapolis was comfortable but not easy. Although I had already lived in many places away from home, I felt in this case an unfamiliar isolation that was heightened by the cold winters and by the city’s remote location deep into the northern plains.

Of little assistance to my outlook was the fact that I was reading, in the dead of winter, Roland Huntsford’s The Last Place on Earth, a chronicle of the 1911 two-team race to reach the South Pole. Would I sail through and emerge victorious like Amundsen? Or would I endure an exhausting slog only to then freeze to death like Scott? Neither, of course, though my February psychology was trending to Scott.

COLD

How bad is the weather in Minneapolis? Regarding the temperature, it is as cold as Anchorage in winter, but no worse than Chicago in spring, and similar to New York and Denver in the summer and fall. On the whole, I found it quite bearable, and even enjoyable, except for the most extreme days of winter.

There are other weather factors beside temperature. For one, Minneapolis enjoys an unusually high number of completely cloudless days. “It is too cold for the humidity to hold up in the air”, my recruiter had deadpanned during the first interview.

Minneapolis-St Paul (MSP) has more clear days than Chicago and more total sunny hours than New York, and far more than Seattle. Its annual snowfall is similar to Denver’s but Denver is even sunnier. Surprisingly, Denver has more clear days than Miami and as many sunny hours.

So in sum, Minneapolis is abysmally cold and snowy in winter. But overall, it is frequently sunny even in winter. If you prefer sunny cold days to tepid wet grey ones, you could argue that the weather in Minneapolis is in fact better than in Seattle. The temperatures in Seattle are less extreme and there is little snow. But the sky is frequently overcast and releases rain in forty more days every year than in Minneapolis.

FLAT

Minnesota has little variation in its land elevations and is the fifth flattest state in the US. Standing at any high point in the city, say on the tenth floor of a building, the view is unobstructed by natural topography in all directions. Except on hazy or foggy days, the towers of downtown are clearly visible from far away. In winter, the chill wind can do its work unbothered by natural obstacles and its steady sweep undulates drifts of snow from one side of the road to the other (‘snow snakes’, per one of my friends).

Lake Harriet in Winter by Amy Mingo. Licensed under CC BY 2.0

I once took a drive north to Duluth and pressed on along the north shore of Lake Superior. We encountered few hills until we reached the Sawtooth range of low mountains along the lake.

REMOTE

In my view, the most unique geographic feature of Minneapolis is not its weather, but the combination of its weather and its remoteness. It is very far from any other sizable city. Its own metro population has 3.6 million today, up from less than 2.5 million when I lived there. But the closest large city is Chicago, 409 miles away. That is the same distance as Boston to Baltimore, and 30 miles more than San Francisco to Los Angeles. Unlike on those trips however, there is little to break the monotony of a day-long trek through rural Wisconsin, except for a quick bypass of Madison and perhaps a lunch break at Wisconsin Dells.

On my first long drive to MSP, coming from Indiana, I was thrilled at dusk to finally reach Eau Claire because that meant that I only had… 90 miles to go to get to MSP.

Minneapolis is even more isolated to its west. Driving in that direction, the first city of over one million inhabitants is Seattle, 1,656 miles away. I never ventured in that direction. But I did head to Kansas City for New Year’s 1988. That was a mere 436 miles of driving through the frozen grey-brown fields of southern Minnesota, Iowa and Missouri. The city of Des Moines, helpfully located half way, was the only pretext to take a break.

The next large cities beyond Kansas City were Denver and Dallas-Fort Worth, both at over 900 miles from Minneapolis. But I never went there by road.

The brave that push northward from MSP into Canada will not encounter a sizable (say greater than 500,000) concentration of humans until Winnipeg in Manitoba, 460 miles away.

I wonder if MSP’s remoteness made it more insular back then. Today, people fly more easily and everything seems closer. But in 1986-88, I met some people in their 50s or 60s who had never left the state. In some cases, they were proud of it and intent on keeping it so until the end. There was no need to venture anywhere, other than for curiosity or a love of travel, especially when the local economy was doing so well.

RICH

Minneapolis-St Paul was quite content with its economy. Back then, it boasted higher median household income (MHI) than the US average. Today too, the MHI in Hennepin, Dakota, Ramsey, Anoka and Washington counties (the metro Minneapolis-St Paul area) is significantly higher than the national average, roughly in line with that of Manhattan.

Minnesota is home to corporate giants Cargill (agriculture, trading), Carlson (travel), United Health (health care), Target and Best Buy (retail) and others.

I saw first hand and was inspired by the Minnesota work ethic that seemed to strike just the right balance between personal ambition and team work. I was employed by an architecture-engineering design firm that had at the time its headquarters in Minneapolis and a small satellite office in Milwaukee. I had no doubt that it would grow smartly. Today it has eight offices coast to coast.

WHITE

When I lived there, Minneapolis’ ethnic makeup was over 80% white. Today, this percentage has dropped to the mid 60s. I am guessing that the new diversity has changed the character of the city and opened up new cultural vistas.

Someone like me would probably find it easier to integrate today than I did in the late 1980s and may more readily decide to settle in Minnesota for the long term. To be sure, it is still brutally cold. It is also still very far, but it may feel closer today thanks to easier travel and social media. The locals are probably more interested in the foreign-born today because there are more of them around. And they bring with them something new and interesting.

My guess overall is that Minneapolis is a much better place for an outsider today than thirty years ago, though still not as socially navigable as the traditionally more universal cities on either coast. Nonetheless, as I alluded above about Wall Street, coastal America seems more inclusive overall but it still comprises smaller sub-cultures that can be just as exclusionary as some midwestern cities. The outer walls are gone but smaller inner citadels remain off limits.

In 1986, as a Mediterranean in the land of the Scandinavian and German-American, I sought warmer personal connections. As luck would have it, baseball rescued me in the end. When the Twins made it to the 1987 World Series, a groundswell of camaraderie and good cheer spread through my entourage, one that was broad and generous enough to see me invited to several homes where I watched the games and liberally high-fived everybody. There was no going back to formality after that.

Forever etched in my memory is a night drive into downtown on the last day of the World Series. Every window of every building was lit up in tribute to the Twins victory and the entire city was glowing like a celebratory thank you to the heavens.

  from Aaron M. Renn http://www.urbanophile.com/2018/05/15/northern-ambition-young-and-foreign-in-the-twin-cities-circa-1987/