#I’m one of the only people on my course without a job for September

[damonfuckingalbarn]

Do you ever just feel really lost in life? Like I’ve never felt this way but the past few days have been hard

#I’ve wanted to be a teacher all my life but now I don’t know if it’s for me #I’m one of the only people on my course without a job for September #and that’s obviously a reflection on my teaching abilities #I feel so lost #I don’t know what I want to do with my life #teaching is all I’ve ever thought about #and I just don’t know what else I could do #genuinely no idea #I’m happy to go into a different career I just don’t know what

[1d1195]

Made to be I

I moonlight as a teacher by day. I don’t have a choice, I’m sorry.

Warnings: sensitive topics included (toxic/borderline abusive relationship, sad, angsty poor student home life, etc.) This is gonna be a couple parts.

He had only known her for the better part of a couple months at most, and he was certain she was his soulmate in some form or another. Harry was certain that the love poems start to make sense when in love.

September/October

She was a history teacher in the room across the hall from Harry’s English class. They stood across from each other in between classes saying hi to their students and making each other smirk and laugh from across the way.

“Are you guys in love with each other?” One student asked Harry in the middle of class when she kindly brought and then left a coffee on his desk without a word. The students were reading a passage Harry had assigned while he wrote a few questions on the board. He gave her a small nod in thanks and grinned at her smiling face as she retreated across the hall. Harry chuckled at the student.

“No,” Harry shook his head with an eye roll. “And don’t go around saying that. If she gets in trouble, I will blame you,” he said knowingly.

But the boy wasn’t wrong necessarily. At least it wasn’t for lack of trying on Harry’s part. Because while they were not in love with each other, there was no way around the fact that he was in love with her. She looked so adorable every single day. The sweet girl admitted in passing that she had a shoe addiction and Harry certainly wasn’t interested in feet, but he made sure to note every pair of cute shoes that adorned her feet each day. He loved her floral outfits and bright colored blouses that made her rosy skin look like the finest porcelain even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the school. She was so graceful, it looked like she tiptoed around the school and certainly in her classroom while she bounced around the room helping her students memorize dates and people from the past.

She was made to be a teacher. Harry thought the only way she could look any better was if she wore a flower crown on her pretty head, but he was also certain if she did, he would lose it in the middle of the school hallway.

The pair had met the first day for teachers of the current school year. She was a new to the school, and this was going to be Harry’s third year in the building. Harry introduced himself when he saw her struggling to carry a heavy box and open her classroom door all at the same time. “Ooh, hey there,” he said gently and hurried to unlock her room. He shoved the door open and grabbed the box from her without asking. “You okay?” He asked sweetly setting it down on the empty table. She stretched her fingers and arms, cramped from holding the box in one position for so long.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said softly. “Thank you,” she said. She knew she was staring a bit, confused that he was helping.

“M’Harry, I teach English across the way. You’re the new history teacher?” He asked her.

She stuck out her hand to shake his and offered her name. Harry wondered if she felt the electricity coursing through her hand as much as he did. She smiled so sweetly at him and nodded. She tried to remember how to speak. Harry was very attractive, and she was going to be across the hall from her the whole year? “History, yes...I’m...I’m pretty nervous. This is my third school in as many years...budget cuts and the like,” she explained. Harry nodded understandingly. It was a major issue in the education realm. He was lucky to keep his job here for so long, but also lucky that some of his peers had left the department after he arrived for one reason or another.

“You’ll be fine, and m’right across the way if y’need anything,” he said seriously. “We have a lot of teacher turnover, but I’ve been here three years and s’challenging at times, but I love it here and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

She took a deep breath. She sounded relieved. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I don’t really know anyone here, so thank you for the help,” she said softly.

“Course, love. Do you have anything else you’re bringing t’your room?” Harry asked.

“Um...nothing I can’t handle. Thank you, though,” her smile was gorgeous to say the least. Her teeth weren’t crooked, but her smile seemed to rise higher on the left of her face than the right. Her cheeks turned into tiny apples that made Harry want to kiss each of them, cup his hands around her face and stare into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen all day long. He felt as if his heart turned to liquid, and he hoped he wasn’t drooling over her. She was lovely and he already adored her and would do anything to see that smile.

“Do you...” he didn’t want to make it obvious that he wanted to hang out with her some more, but he still wanted to be polite. “I have t’do a few things in my room, would you like a tour of the building? I can show you the ins and outs of the copy machine too. I’ve had m’fair share of battles with that monster.”

She giggled. “That would be really nice, thank you. I’m just going to set up a few things here but let me know when you want to do that.”

“Okay, great,” Harry could hardly contain his excitement. He felt like a literal kid in school meeting a new student and helping her out. “If...if you need help with anything in the meantime, just give me a shout, yeah?” He asked. “Seriously, no bother at all,” he said walking backwards out of her room with a grin and wave.

While Harry wrote the opening day activities on the board, he thought about how adorable she was, and he wondered all kinds of things about his new coworker, and he hoped he would get to discover them all. The smile on his mouth couldn’t be removed and he was suddenly more excited for the poetry unit he’d be teaching and imagined a few of his own love poems in his head, too.

*

She didn’t elaborate much about her personal life. She had two younger sisters, her mom and dad separated when she was young. She was closer with her youngest sister but of course adored them both with all her heart. Harry still hadn’t figured out if she was single or not—it wasn’t his business. It was probably entirely inappropriate for him to have a crush on her, but he couldn’t help it. Not when she was effortlessly lovely and adorable. He thought about running his fingers through her hair, letting them get tangled at the back of her head. He imagined she tasted like sugar because she was just so sweet and how could he not believe that?

She was already working on her master’s degree and if she wasn’t a history teacher, she would want to be an accountant or a statistician. “Math?” Harry said wrinkling his nose at her while they shared their lunch time in her room.

“Statistics is very nearly an English class, Mr. Styles,” she rolled her eyes knowingly at him. “I fared much better in stats than I did in algebra.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” he chuckled.

“I had to work probably three times as hard in Algebra than I did Stats.”

He knew she was brilliant. She always downplayed it. But it was obvious. He saw it when she was afterschool with students helping them with other subjects because they liked her more than their actual teacher. She seemed to know everything and was always willing to help any student—even the ones she didn’t have in class.

“Did you always want to be a teacher?” Harry asked her while she rewrote the objectives on the board in her neat script.

Her cheeks burned at his assessment. She wasn’t embarrassed but she liked the idea that he thought about her. “Is it that obvious?” She smirked.

“Yes, but it’s...it’s perfect. It’s like you were made to be a teacher.”

“My mom said that,” she giggled cutely. “Tried teaching my baby sister to read fresh out the womb,” she snickered.

Harry smiled. “Well? Did you teach her to read?”

She paused her writing, tilted her head to the side and nodded slowly. “I had a hand in it, yeah,” she realized. “Never really thought about it.”

“A natural,” Harry said simply.

Harry shared his personal details as well. Mum, sister, always wanted to live in the states, fell in love with English. Went to a classroom to help a friend with a unit he had spent extensive research on over his second to last semester, fell in love again.

And he wanted to tell her that he fell in love with her too, but since she didn’t offer her love story, he thought it best he would keep his own to himself too.

*

It was late October when Harry realized he was truly in love with her. And it wasn’t only because she was beautiful and intelligent. No in fact, he was almost certain it had nothing to do with either of those things (but he would tell Gemma later that night he was the luckiest man in the world to work across the hall from an angel). Instead, it was just her demeanor and her kindness that made his heart tap out this rhythm he had never heard before while his brain swam with thoughts of her.

A student was screaming from her room. Harry was on his break period, and he looked up from his computer to the room across the hall—his coworker glanced at the door as well and hearing nothing crazy out of sorts, continued on. But Harry was still on alert because he would probably strangle a student if she was harmed in anyway. He could hear her gentle voice murmuring as the student just yelled louder. Harry moved from his desk toward the hallway, he was ready to intervene if it escalated any further, but she managed to convince the student to step in the hall, so Harry stopped at his whiteboard and busied himself by rewriting the agenda, the date, the objectives on the board, and the like. Harry was happy to eavesdrop just in case.

“Hey,” she said softly when in the hall. “What’s the matter?” She asked.

Harry watched as the boy stared at his feet. “Why don’t you just send me out like every other teacher?” He snapped.

“Well, this is our time together. If I send you out, I don’t get to teach you and then that means I’m doing a bad job,” she explained. “And I don’t like doing a bad job.”

He snorted. “I’m not going to learn.”

She shrugged. “You’ll learn something,” she said knowingly. “Might not be history, but you’ll learn.”

They were quiet a moment and Harry was watching in awe. The boy was taller than her by at least a foot, but he refused to look at her. He looked small. Harry was worried by the sheer size of him that he could seriously injure her if he got angry enough. She was standing with her hands behind her back looking adorable in her flowery dress. She wore ballet flats and her hair had two soft curls pulled on either side of her head. She was as beautiful as ever and he wasn’t giving her the time of day. Harry wasn’t as worried as when he first heard the yelling, but she didn’t even look prepared to brace herself in the event he got angry again. He wondered how she kept her cool like that, or maybe she really didn’t think he would. “Are you going to write me up?” He asked her with a huff.

“Depends,” she shrugged. “I don’t have to if you want to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re comfortable with that. Or I can send you to someone that you do want to talk to,” she said softly. “But I’m only going to write you up if you continue with this out of character behavior today. I can’t have you yelling at me like that in class. It’s not really fair...I don’t yell like that because honestly, that hurt my feelings,” she told him. “And I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings. I also wouldn’t want to make you look bad in front of everyone else, and you sort of did that too...and that wasn’t cool. But you never act like this, so I’m letting it slide if you promise it won’t happen again.”

He glanced up at her briefly and was quiet for another moment while he thought about all the logical things that she deduced from his short episode of yelling at her in front of everyone. She had endless patience, she leaned against the wall and waited while he stared at his shoes. Harry was organizing the markers and erasers on the shelf of the board; he rearranged the magnets into different shapes wondering where she stored all this patience. Harry was in awe of her unending kindness and understanding. “I haven’t eaten,” he said eventually.

She nodded, almost if she expected the answer. “I get pretty hangry myself,” she said knowingly. “Definitely hard to focus when you’re hungry...Were you running late, skipped breakfast?” She questioned gently. She didn’t want to pry and make him tell her something, but she wanted him to know she was listening.

He shook his head and was silent.

She nodded and swallowed. She knew what was coming next. It was so frequently true in their school that this happened to so many students. Worse yet, it wasn’t just their school this happened. It became an increasing problem every day in every school. Harry knew too, nearly broke his heart and she was so quiet when she asked her next question. “Did you eat dinner last night, honey?”

He was still a moment. Shook his head once. “No,” he breathed.

She nodded. “I see. Well, that simply won’t do.” She glanced across the hall. “Mr. Styles,” she said with a grin. Harry smirked at his board and turned toward the pair in the hall with a gentle smile. “Would you mind if he sat in your room for a bit?” She asked. She knew that Harry heard every word, the student did not.

“Not at all,” he said simply.

“Just a minute, honey,” she said pressing a hand on his arm and tilted her head toward Harry’s room. Harry returned to his desk as the boy sat warily at one of Harry’s seats.

She disappeared into her room for a moment and returned with a plethora of snacks and a water bottle. “Eat whatever you want,” she said as she settled the granola bars, fruit snacks, and animal crackers on the desk. She also had two pieces of candy as well. She walked out of the room and back across the hall without another word. The boy stared at the snacks for a moment and Harry could see the confusion, the gratitude, and everything else that was hurting his heart on his face.

He started to munch on the snacks. “Do you need anything else?” Harry asked as he ate.

He shook his head. “I...I feel bad I yelled at her,” he said quietly.

Harry shrugged. “Happens to the best of us,” he said simply. “I don’t think she minded. You can always apologize.”

The boy nodded and ate quietly. Ate every snack she offered. “I’ll go back to class now,” he said.

Harry nodded. “Have a nice day,” he said.

“You too.”

Harry never really had students yell at him. He was utterly aware of how female teachers were treated differently than male teachers. The standards may have been the same, but they were subject to the yelling she just experienced so much more frequently than Harry and his other male coworkers. He knew she felt pressure in that situation. It was practically a power struggle while the rest of the class continued working on her assignment. Harry wasn’t sure how he would have handled that situation, but he knew it wouldn’t have been the way she so elegantly and wonderfully did.

He spent the remainder of his break period typing up the scenario exactly as he heard and saw it. With the printed copy, he delivered it to his principal’s office just so he knew how lovely his coworker was and it would be a shame to lose her this year—even though the year had hardly started. Harry would leave the school if she did too.

*

But as wonderfully as she handled that situation, not every one of them could be like that. So, when the yelling started a few paces down the hall from her door and the two boys dropped their bags, Harry was floored to see her cute being fly down the hall to their sides as one swung his fist into the other boy’s face. Harry ran as quickly as he could to pull the pair apart, but she was still shoved against the locker as she pulled at the boys. She winced quickly, seemed to hold her breath from the pain. Harry felt his pulse quicken at her pain. He yanked as hard as he could to shove the boy away from the other one. She gripped onto the other boy’s arm, all the while she was shouting, nearly the only time he ever heard her voice take on such an octave.

She reached her free hand to the back of her head, and she winced again as she touched the tender spot. Harry nearly lost it. He wanted to shove the poor teenager away, gather her in his arms and make sure she was alright. The assistant principal finally made his way to the still arguing boys. Once relieved of her duties she started ushering everyone back to class loudly while the bell rang. Harry was still holding one boy at bay, and she stood in the middle of the hall directing her students to get into class and then telling Harry’s to get their writing journals out for the prompt on the board. If he wasn’t so worried about her head, he would have been floored she knew what Harry asked of his students at the beginning of each class. Maybe it was because he had no idea what she had her students do at the beginning of each class. He wanted to remedy that soon.

Harry was finally able to leave the boy’s side and he hurried back to her side in the middle of the hall. She flinched as he touched the back of her arm in surprise.

“Love, are you alright?” he said quietly while the halls finally dispersed of students. He was desperate to know she was okay, and he knew she was but the way she flinched wounded him. He wished he had quicker reflexes than her to see that scenario coming about and stop it before she got hurt. “Do you need some medicine? Or the nurse to check you out?” He asked nervously.

“Um...no, just banged my head a bit.” She wondered what her face looked like because Harry’s face was unconvinced that she was okay. “Just a little bump, seriously, I’ll be fine,” she promised. She gently squeezed Harry’s forearm and then meandered toward her room. “Thanks for stopping them, though,” she said over her shoulder.

Harry brought her medicine and water anyway, and she smiled gratefully when he exited her room while she was teaching her next lesson, unfazed by seemingly everything.

*

They were staying late for the fall athletic awards ceremony that was starting at five. It was fairly short, offered free food and was a great way to get to know the kids a bit more and how some shined as leaders on the field so to speak versus the classroom.

They both decided it didn’t make sense to go home and come back. For which Harry was very excited to spend the next three hours alone with her uninterrupted by other coworkers or students while they chatted away. Harry got a quick take away for the two of them from the Mexican place down the street from the school. They ate in Harry’s room and talked about everything they could think of. Students, parents, books they were reading, holidays, birthdays, childhood memories, vacations. Again she didn’t elaborate too much, but Harry really felt like he was starting to know her.

“Hey, would you mind helping me move my desk?” She asked after they finished eating. “I...I wanted to try this arrangement you have going on here,” she smiled. “The kids have mentioned it on occasion they like your room.”

He nodded. “Course, love,” he said softly.

He lifted the desk with her help. She wasn’t going to just stand there while Harry did literally all the heavy lifting. She did hold her own, but the desk was heavy. “Oof,” she grunted when they settled it into place.

“Y’okay?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together.

“Yeah...just uh...” She shook her head. “I got a bit of a cut,” she wrinkled her nose. “Sharp edge.”

“Oh, that’s no good,” Harry said worriedly. She wasn’t gushing blood, but it had to be sore. He pulled her back to his room where he had a small first aid kit. “These desks are old, who knows what you cut it on,” he said holding her hand in one of his while he put some antibiotic cream on her fingertip. She gasped a little and Harry glanced up at her. Her lips were parted in shock, her eyes wide as Harry took care of her. “Y’okay, love?” He wondered quietly. She nodded, didn’t say anything as Harry rubbed the cream over her fingertip. They were silent while Harry bandaged her finger. Her hand sparked fire along his palm and he patted the inside of her hand when he was finished but didn’t dare release his grip from her. She was staring at her finger and Harry waited until she glanced up at him.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Course, love,” he answered. His eyes stayed trained on her then slipped to look at her lips. They looked like two little pillows, and he could feel her warm breath breezing over his hand. He closed his eyes a moment and his head inched the tiniest fraction toward her because he really wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t in their best interests being coworkers at a school.

“I have a boyfriend,” she blurted then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Harry dropped her other hand immediately. “I’m sorry?”

She closed her eyes and removed her hand from her mouth. She shook her head rapidly wincing as she did. “I...I’m so sorry. I just...I want you to know that...should have told you a long...” she looked at the floor and then shook her head again. “I don’t know why...” she sighed. “I...I like you a lot, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship...but I think it’s...” she pressed her lips together and there was such a long pause before she spoke again. “I just want you to know,” she swallowed what looked like a rock in her throat.

Harry only heard that she liked him a lot. While his heart was breaking that she was taken, he did adore her regardless. He would never want to lose her as a friend, and he would probably wait forever for her. He had only known her for the better part of a couple months at most, and he was certain she was his soulmate in some form or another. Harry was certain that the love poems start to make sense when in love. “Love, it’s...S’okay,” he shrugged. “Uh...s’not....” he shook his head and bit his lip. “Probably wise we don’t give the kids some ammunition, y’know,” he chuckled. She blushed this beautiful rosy pink, her lips pressed together, and she cast her eyes down for a moment.

She looked up at him. “You’re...I haven’t had a friend in a really long time,” she said softly glancing back at her feet. Her hair fell from behind her ear and hid her beautiful face.

“Then that’s what we’ll be, love,” he assured her and pressed a kiss to her cheek because he had to, or he was certain he would die. Her skin was so soft, and he was glad he did it. Harry never thought he would experience this all encompassing love. The type that knocked him off his feet. Whenever he thought of her a smile pulled his lips across his face. His pulse raced. He never believed in love at first sight. But he had never seen her before. She was everything to him. No matter what. She was made to be a teacher, sure. That much was obvious. But she was made to be in Harry’s life. She was his soulmate, he was absolutely sure of it. “M’happy t’be your best friend. Let’s move the rest of your desks.”

#one direction #one direction imagines #one direction imagine #one direction preferences #one direction blurbs #one direction blurb #one direction fluff #one direction angst #one direction writing #one direction smut #1d #1d imagines #1d fluff #1d blurbs #1d blurb #harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #made to be

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

You Should Watch Wiseguy:

The show that changed the face of television while no one was paying attention

If you've ever watched and enjoyed anything that gets tossed around as “prestige television—”  you know what I’m talking about— long form narratives, high stakes, actors with something to prove— shows like The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, The Wire, etc.— you have Wiseguy to thank. While largely forgotten by mainstream audiences (for a variety of reasons, including sheer lack of availability), Wiseguy was one of the first non-soap-opera shows with a fully serialized story— one that expected you to see every episode, in order. When it began airing in September of 1987, really the only other thing on TV like it was Michael Mann’s Crime Story (also worth a watch), and Crime Story would be canceled before Wiseguy even hit its second season.

Writers, actors, and industry types of all kinds cite Wiseguy as a major influence— Vince Gilligan and Tom Schnauz credit watching Wiseguy in the 80’s as why they cast Jonathan Banks as Mike— Chris Carter hired writers from Wiseguy when he started the X-Files— actors like Stanley Tucci made their names on the show— and hell, David Chase wrote an angry letter to the New York Times claiming he was absolutely under no circumstances at all influenced by Wiseguy ever, which feels like the kind of thing you don’t need to write a letter about if it’s true. 

Of course, just because something is influential doesn’t mean it’s good. 

Wiseguy is really damn good.

Much like Miami Vice (and some of the later shows that took influence from Wiseguy), Wiseguy takes the position that there’s very little difference between criminals and the police, and that the justice system is wildly ill-equipped to create justice. Mafia movie blood, with all its inherent moral ambiguity, runs through Wiseguy’s veins, and then after episode nine, it asks you to think about how that blood would pump in a different milieu— corporate espionage and the destabilization of the global south by American capitalists, insular rural politics and the easy rise of small-time dictators, congressional politics and Twelve-Angry-Men-worthy courtroom drama, the music industry and the cutthroat disposal of talented young people. Money and power structures are always suspect, and good-hearted tough guy lead Vinnie is constantly torn between doing his job, doing the right thing, and doing the thing that makes sense to him emotionally.

The show is heartfelt, tense, funny, and above all else, incredibly human. The characters behave irrationally— they self-sabotage, they struggle with moral decisions, they lash out at people they care about— because they’re people, not plot devices. Little things will come back to haunt them, often many episodes later, in believable and sometimes gutting—but rarely shocking— ways. Despite this realism, and a deep sense of cynicism about our institutions, Wiseguy never falls into the trap of wallowing in grim bleakness. The writers and the actors clearly believe in people— it’s a show that says— ‘yeah, the world sucks. So how do we keep going, together?’ The characters are lovable not because they’re all good, but because you feel like you could know them, with realistic flaws and foibles and senses of humor. Sometimes it’s a little silly, and sometimes it’s a little melodramatic— but it works, because sometimes that’s how real life is, too.

Wiseguy is four (well. three and a half) seasons [cross out— and a terrible TV movie that disregards canon], and is notably divided into 4-11 episode arcs within those seasons, and occasional “breather” episodes between arcs. It’s actually a brilliant bit of plotting that I wish more shows would do today— it allows for overarching narratives and real stakes without running into DBZ-like “the next threat has to be BIGGER and MORE DANGEROUS” power level bullshittery that’s common to a lot of long running serialized shows. One of my favorite aspects of this design is that the cast partially rotates every few episodes, but the show still expects you to remember what was going on with the characters from the previous arcs— because they often return later in unexpected and narratively satisfying ways.

The three characters that remain more-or-less consistent throughout the show are Vinnie Terranova, an undercover agent for the Organized Crime Bureau, Frank McPike, his handler, and Dan “Lifeguard” Burroughs, the OCB call-center operator who gives Vinnie field instructions. 

Vinnie Terranova is just on the border of thirty when the series begins, a gregarious kid-from-the-neighborhood, just out of a cover-establishing 18-month stint in prison. He is a bundle of contradictions— quick to fall but slow to trust, a practicing Catholic who chose a job in the field of lying and murder, a 50’s hood irritated by bigotry. Vinnie is both far smarter and more sensitive than anyone gives him credit for, which is both his greatest strength and his fatal flaw— empathetic undercover agents burn out fast. He spends a surprising amount of the series trying and failing to quit his job. He has a marshmallow center, a steel-trap mind, and the general affect of your cousin who dropped out of college to marry his pregnant high school sweetheart. He also has no idea that his type is “angry asshole” and keeps being surprised when he falls for them. 

Frank McPike is a curmudgeon's curmudgeon, a career fed with a chip on his shoulder, a fathoms-deep sense of cynicism, and a collapsing marriage. He and Vinnie begin the series at odds, and as you watch the first few episodes, you're going to seriously struggle to believe me when I say that the affection between Frank and Vinnie becomes the absolute thematic and emotional heart of the series. Frank is also a genuine oddball failing to pose as a tough guy; he makes noises, he lurks in strange costumes, and the words he chooses when he’s irritated beggar normal human understanding.

We don’t get to know Dan as quickly or as deeply as we get to know Vinnie and Frank (in fact, he’s introduced as “Mike”), but he’s the man behind the curtain, a guiding moral and emotional star for Vinnie, a talented musician, and a cheerful face with a lot of anger bubbling just below the surface. He offers life advice even as his own home life is in constant meltdown, and loves both Vinnie and Frank with a fierce, sarcastic weariness. Dan is also an amputee, and his disability is portrayed with respect and without pity— a rarity for television even now, but especially in 1988. 

You’ll absolutely fall in love with these three, but one of the things that makes Wiseguy so special is its fantastic supporting cast. The world is fleshed out and lived in, and you get the distinct sense that all the recurring characters have their own lives we don’t get to see off screen. There’s Carlotta— Vinnie’s mother, as contradictory and sharp as her son, Pete— Vinnie’s brother, a progressive basketball-playing priest, Roger Lococco— a killer-for-hire who refers to every person on the planet as Buckwheat, Rudy Aiuppo— an elderly don with the heart of a trickster spirit, and a whole host of others who enter and exit the narrative throughout the arcs of the show. There are also a whole host of wonderful arc-based characters played by incredible actors, journeymen and and famous alike— including turns from Tim Curry, Debbie Harry, Jerry Lewis, Stanley Tucci, Patti D’Arbanville, Stephen Bauer, and Billy Dee Williams. You can tell everyone involved in the show had a fantastic time working on it, and nearly every actor who comes aboard really puts their whole Wisegussy into it gives it their all.

You notice that as I’ve been speaking, the lights have dimmed slightly, and the strains of an organetto have started to play quietly in the background. A man in a rumpled suit is smoking nearby, though you are fairly certain smoking indoors hasn’t been legal in a number of years. I pass you a plate of espresso and biscotti. 

Let’s talk arcs.

The first arc of the show, known as the Steelgrave arc, is a lot of fans’ favorite arc of the show, and for good reason. Vinnie infiltrates a New Jersey mob organization, and gets very, very close* to this man:

Sonny Steelgrave, human Knife Cat, is a complicated man, and Vinnie has complicated feelings about him. He’s very nearly a co-protagonist to Vinnie in this arc, and the show artfully toes the line between condemning him and making it clear that he’s not always entirely wrong. Vinnie’s goal is to get Sonny into prison and take down the entire family— how and whether he achieves this goal is best left unspoiled. Sonny may not have been the first complicated, likable villain on television, but his arc is intense, heart-wrenching, and splendidly morally grey. I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that the Steelgrave arc is the best nine hour mob movie ever aired on television.  

*I’m really not kidding about the closeness. There’s an episode where Sonny announces he’s getting married and literally all the other mobsters are like ‘oh, now I understand why Vinnie has been in a bad mood all day.’ They are as close to canonically in love as a federal agent and a mobster have ever been portrayed on screen.

Lest you get Kevin-Spacey-jumpscared, the following arc unfortunately has Kevin Spacey in it. Thankfully he plays a slimy sister-kissing coked-up hypercapitalist, so it’s fairly easy to just hate his character in the same way you hate the actor and move on with your life. 

This arc, the Profitt arc— in which Vinnie is tasked with taking down a wealthy business mogul who is suspected of drug-and-gun-running— is, for many fans, a close second to the Steelgrave arc. It’s an interesting change of tone and locale, and introduces Roger Lococco, who is a really stellar supporting character. Personally, I rank a bunch of other arcs above Profitt, because no matter how much I like Roger, Mel and Susan are bananas, and they wear out their welcome before they exit the narrative. Regardless, it’s a stylish arc— one that rather  kicks truth, justice, and the American way in the teeth— and Mel’s machinations have serious reverberations later in the show. The Roger subplot is also genuinely excellent, and good old Corey Matthews’ Dad plays him with aplomb.

Back home, after trying to quit his job and failing, Vinnie has to deal with a threat with much smaller, but far more personal stakes. A white supremacy group has moved into his neighborhood and is attempting to recruit working-class Italians to their cause, pitting an older immigrant group against a newer one, pitting Catholics against Jews, and pitting a previously “ethnic” group’s newly acquired “whiteness” against people of color. I have mixed feelings about the Pilgrims of Promise/White Supremacy arc, because it’s truly quite good, and it pulls no punches about the kind of people fascists are and prey on, but it’s also exceptionally fucking upsetting that nothing has changed at all since 1988. Literally you could remake this arc word for word today and a) it would be exactly as believable, and b) your show would be immediately boycotted and canceled for being too “woke.” Great writing, great stakes, great character motivation; so, so uncomfortable to watch.

And then Ken Wahl breaks his leg in real life, and they have to replace him for a few weeks. 

The Garment Trade arc starts off pretty promising— Vinnie meets with the son of a clothing manufacturer, they have great (borderline meet-cute) chemistry, it’s a wonderfully New-York-in-the-80’s kind of storyline, Jerry Lewis is there, and I think it’s the only time I’ve ever seen Sukkot represented on TV— and then Vinnie has to leave for the next four episodes because of Wahl’s broken leg. They rewrote the arc on the fly, and considering that, it’s pretty good. Jerry Lewis is still there, and he gives the serious, dramatic performance of a lifetime, and Stanley Tucci chews scenery as The World’s Slimiest Businessman. We meet Vinnie’s childhood bestie, “Mooch,” whose actor, delightfully, starred beside Ken Wahl in 1979’s The Wanderers. My beautiful and talented wife Joan Chen even shows up for an episode. However, all of this is undercut by the lack of Vinnie; his replacement, a semi-retired agent named Raglin, is… a bit milquetoast. He’s okay, and he’s given some interesting backstory in his final episode, but he’s no Vinnie.

Once again sporting a functional leg, Vinnie returns, and my favorite arc other than Steelgrave follows. 

In the Dead Dog arc, Vinnie has to pose as a music producer, because the OCB traded an airplane for a music label. It’s the dumbest, most fantastic plot device of all time, and brings me incalculable joy. I literally made Dead Dog t-shirts because I love this stupid fake music label owned by a fictional government agency so much. 

The Dead Dog arc sees Vinnie at his happiest (the poor man really, really just wants to quit undercover work and stop being involved with Murder Organizations), and the crime he’s investigating is… wait for it… bootleg CDs. You would think this would be a ridiculously boring premise for an investigation, but the Dead Dog arc has Tim Curry, Debbie Harry, Glenn Frey, and Patty D’Arbanville playing a cadre of unhinged music industry moguls all attempting to stab each other in the back, and it is exactly as chaotic as you would expect based on that cast. This arc also had a bunch of original music produced for it, which is extremely fucking cool, except that then the studio lost the rights to the music it created and this arc became inaccessible and unwatchable except through circulating the tapes, so to speak, of early 90’s TV rips. (The irony is not lost on me that the arc about the Evils of Piracy is the arc that one must pirate.) Miraculously, in the last year, Wiseguy’s rights have been renegotiated, and the newest sets of the show have Dead Dog restored. Accessibility via streaming is still a bit of a mixed bag— the episodes were streaming on Tubi and Youtube briefly, but now appear to have been taken down again.

After his turn as a surprisingly successful music producer, Vinnie returns to his roots: the mob. In the Mob Wars/Trash Wars arc, Vinnie unintentionally becomes the temporary leader of the local mafia commission (I will not spoil how.) The OCB wants to use this as an opportunity to take down the entire organization from the inside out, and Vinnie must deal with mafia backstabbing, pressure from Frank and the OCB, and surprisingly personal stakes. It’s an unspectacular but solid arc that regrounds the series, and the interpersonal aspects of the story— and its examination of fathers and sons and generational inheritance of social rules and expectations— are excellent. The Mafia Wars storyline won’t blow your pants off, but it’s thoughtful and well-executed and reminds us of who Vinnie is and where he came from.

What follows is another of my favorite arcs, referred to as the DC or Counterfeit Yen arc, but perhaps better described as the Mr. Terranova Goes to Washington arc. Vinnie is summoned by the federal government to investigate counterfeiting, and thus unfolds a multinational conspiracy that ties back to the Profitt arc. Much like the White Supremacy arc, this arc is distressingly current— Vinnie is a patsy for a group of corrupt republican senators who want to destabilize the currency of a perceived East Asian economic rival. It’s Yen here, but all you’d need to do to bring this arc into 2023 is swap out references to Japan for China, because the American government has changed very little from the 80’s and has to be awful about some country somewhere or, I don’t know, a bunch of horrible old racist politicians will shit themselves. Vinnie enters talking like Jimmy Stewart, and leaves with one more thing to be crushed and disillusioned about. We get some riveting and stomach-churning courtroom drama, the bad guy turns out to be capitalism all along, and Frank threatens to shoot a Howard Hughes stand-in on a ski lift.

And then somehow we end up in Twin Peaks. The Lynchboro arc predates Twin Peaks by a whopping two months, indicating a total coincidence of premise similarities, but it does take place in a corrupt rural Pacific Northwest town unduly influenced by one large family/company, wherein an outsider has to investigate a tangled conspiracy and deal with strange townsfolk and some spooky happenings. There’s no way either show could’ve plagiarized the other— they were assuredly written and in production at the same time— but it is deeply bizarre. In the Lynchboro arc, Vinnie goes undercover as a local beat cop, and finds himself faced with both a serial killer and a land-rights and building-contracts espionage plot. He also has to deal with Mark Volchek, the ostensible “owner” of the town, and his eccentricity and decreasing grip on reality. Roger returns, and Vinnie must finally confront the enormity of his trauma. One major character is literally brought back from the edge of death by another character’s crushing love for them, expressed via church bells. It doesn’t exactly end on a cliffhanger, but it doesn’t not, either.

And then Ken Wahl quit.

Season Four begins with a deeply depressed, heavily bearded Frank struggling to find the will to live after Vinnie has disappeared. (I don’t think I’m really at risk of spoiling anything serious by saying that we are “supposed” to think Vinnie is permanently gone, but that there are a huge number of blatantly spotlighted contradictions in that story. Wahl left on decent terms, and I firmly believe the Wiseguy staff was expecting to eventually win him back to the show and have his absence turn out to be a ruse. Unfortunately, Wiseguy got cancelled before this could happen.) Frank spends the first (and only complete) arc of this season investigating his partner’s disappearance, eventually working with the supposedly-corrupt DA who helped establish Vinnie’s cover back before Season One. 

It’s not an uncommon opinion to say, ‘hey, just skip S4’— and honestly, if you chose to watch S1-3, you’d have consumed a wonderful story with a reasonably coherent ending. But I don’t actually hate Season Four. The “new Vinnie—” Michael Santana, played by pretty-boy Scarface alum Stephen Bauer— is exceptionally likeable, and he brings with him a new set of characters who are also quite compelling. Furthermore, if you’re a Frank fan, he really gets the spotlight in this season, and if you’re a Frank/Vinnie fan, Vinnie may not be around, but Frank’s despair is really fucking something else. It’s almost worth it just to see him lie to the FBI and tell them he “never crossed the line” of professionalism with Vinnie.

Unfortunately, the next arc sets up something really compelling and unique, but it’s only 3 (unaired on TV) episodes, and ends on a complete cliffhanger, because the show was unceremoniously cancelled. After his niece is shot in the midst of teenage gang violence, Michael teams up with Billy Dee Lando Calrissian Fucking Williams to investigate red-lining and racist underfunding of schools. Oliver Stone shows up in the last like, ten minutes of the last episode?? I would be all over this storyline if it wasn’t just dropped like a moldy tomato, but I guess that’s what fanfiction is for. It’s not how Wiseguy deserved to go out, but hey, it was really aiming for the stars even as the plug got pulled.

Oh, and if anyone tells you there’s a 1996 TV movie, no, there isn’t.* 

(*The movie is so deeply mediocre that it’s worse than any of the controversy surrounding Season Four. It essentially retcons all of S4 and, frankly, really the last few episodes of S3, and presents a bland, uninspired “getting the gang back together” story that retreads thematic materials from the show without saying anything new. Vinnie has apparently been doing wiretapping for 6 years, which is completely at odds with everything we know about his character, and he and Frank are treated as “dinosaurs” that the OCB doesn’t know what to do with, and yet they are also simultaneously the only ones who can take care of a nearly-kidnapped child. It’s rushed, it’s emotionally hollow, the actors are phoning it in, and it ignores all of the character development from the series in a way that renders its plot nearly nonsensical. Furthermore, Ken Wahl had been in a seriously disabling motorcycle accident a few years before, so his apparent discomfort and stiffness throughout the film is because he’s genuinely in significant pain. Don’t watch the movie. You can always write fix-it fic for how Vinnie manages to come back after Season Four. It’s much harder to write fix-it fic for boring character assassination written by the 'due-process-is-for-pussies-and-torture-works' 24 guy.)

One of the other delightful things about Wiseguy is that Vinnie is both a big softie and yet is also saddled with a bizarre sort of erotic smolder, and therefore he has ridiculous chemistry with basically half the cast of the show. Vinnie very much seems a guy like you could say some blandly nice things to and buy him dinner, and you’d wake up, exhausted and satisfied, the next morning to him cooking breakfast. You’d think, wow, this guy is so thoughtful, he must be the one— and then you’d turn your head and he’d have immediately been seduced by the next schmuck down the line. He’s a good boy, but his “acceptable romantic target” sensors are so wildly mistuned as to render him, affectionately, a tragic slut. Will he end up with a mobster? One of a number of widows? His boss? No one knows but god.

Vinnie is also heavily bi-coded— his relationship with Sonny is almost explicitly romantic, he calls out Roger for homophobia (in 1989), one of his old friend asks if the reason he’s not married is because he ‘likes boys,’ and he doesn’t say no, and he has a borderline I-love-you moment with Frank. The boy just wants someone to love him, goddammit. 

I’m also really not kidding about Vinnie and Frank developing into the emotional core of the series. They live together for a period of time. They both imply they can’t live without the other. They go shopping for Dan’s birthday together. They pick up Frank’s ailing father from the nursing home together. Frank picks out Vinnie’s tie.

You pick at the plate of spaghetti that appeared in front of you, unsure of either its provenance or why it came after dessert. It’s the best spaghetti you’ve ever had, and that frightens you, somehow. 

I lean in close to whisper to you about crime. You note that at some point I changed into a pinstriped suit. You don’t remember me changing, or even getting up— you console yourself with the notion that maybe I’d been wearing it from the start, even though you know that isn’t true.

So, the thing about Wiseguy is— well— it’s more available than it used to be. The whole series was recently released on blu-ray, and both that set and the most recent DVD sets actually have every episode, a change from the previous releases. As of August 2023, all of the series except Dead Dog is available, legally, on Youtube. This is a vast improvement from even two or three years ago, when multiple episodes weren’t available through any means but blurry, VHS-tracking-laden downloads of TV rips. 

Unfortunately, the most recent renegotiation of the series home video and streaming rights still failed on the music rights front. Dead Dog has been spared the hammer, but there are still places where the series has gaps. Notably, there’s an episode (Stairway to Heaven) where Frank murders a jukebox, and looks completely fucking insane, because the original (thematically meaningful) music the jukebox was playing was replaced with generic elevator music. Worse, the final episode of the Steelgrave arc (No One Gets Out of Here Alive) is missing two musical cues: in one instance, Sonny himself is singing, in a fit of mania, and the footage has straight up been cut from the episode because they couldn’t get the rights to The Young Rascals’ Good Lovin’.  Equally egregious, The Moody Blues’ Nights in White Satin, which originally played over nearly a minute of sustained, silent eye contact between Sonny and Vinnie— has been replaced with the Wiseguy opening theme. It renders a scene which should be quite clearly devastating and unsubtly romantic instead utterly awkward and bizarre. It’s hard to demonstrate just how jarring the change is unless you’ve seen the scene, but suffice to say that everyone I know who has seen both versions— in either order— has expressed horror and bafflement at the substitution. 

Which is to say: there’s a couple of episodes of Wiseguy you’re probably going to want to locate those shitty old TV rips of. It’s worth it, even if it seems like it wouldn’t be.

I place my hand over yours. You jump a little. I have a number of large, dark-stoned signet rings, and my hand is strangely cold. 

I make you an offer you can’t refuse.

You’re going to watch Wiseguy. 

#wiseguy #tv recommendations #fandom #80's #retro tv

[iceeericeee]

September

Here is my contribution to NATM day <3

Notes: This is basically how the Shroomies get together (romantically). Also, I'm aro, so excuse me if none of this makes sense, but romance is not my first language :')

Drew POV:

‘Ugghhh, my head hurts. I’m never sleeping outside without a tent again.’ I think to myself. ‘Maybe I can get back home and take a nap.’

“Where d’yah reckon she came from?”

‘What the fuck?’

“I dunno, new addition, maybe?”

‘Since when did we have yeehaws in Washington? And what’s this dude going on about?’

“Then shouldn’t she be in a position? Why’s she lying down?”

‘In position? What am I, an actor? Oh god, are they using my campsite for a film?’

“Beats me.”

I shifted a bit, pressing my hands against my temple. I slowly sat up, opening my eyes. I saw three people in a loose semicircle in front of me, dressed up like cowboys. When they saw me move, they quickly shuffled away, giving me space.

“Someone get Jed, he’s better at explainin’ this to newbies,” the guy on the left ran off, leaving a small trail of dust behind him.

‘Hold up. Dust??’

“You need some help gettin up there, sunshine?” One of them offered.

“Uh, yeah, no thanks. I’m fine.” As he raised his hands in defense, I quickly got up to look around.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

I was at a railroad, and right in front of me was a short expanse of sand and dirt, which suddenly stopped after a few yards, and opened to an enormous hallway, with a giant bench in the middle. I’d recognize this place anywhere.

“How- how in the hell-” Oh wait. ‘Fuckin Annabel. I know she did this, and when I see him, I’m gonna wring his damn neck.’ Then I looked down to see what I was wearing.

“Oh, hell no.”

I’m wearing one of those dresses you only see in those old western movies. It’s a flattering shade of pine green, with small white flowers decorating the hem. It’s pretty, but it’s definitely not me. I can almost hear Annabel laughing.

‘Speaking of Annabel, why did they think it was a good idea to put me here? There’s really no point,’ I think to myself. ‘Unless- no, they wouldn’t. They’re not-’ But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. But then, where’s Charlie? If they’re trying to get us together, then wouldn’t she be here too?

‘Wait. Didn’t that one guy say-’

“Hey there! You alrigh’?”

‘Fuuuuuuuuck, it’s Jedidiah.’

I turn around, and sure enough, it’s Owen Wilson’s Jedidiah Smith in all his glory.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, I’m doin good,” the words almost rush out of my mouth. ‘Damn you, bisexual panic.’

He stuck out a hand. “Name’s Jedidiah, but you can just call me Jed,” he introduced.

Resisting the urge to say that I already knew that, I shook his hand. “I’m Drew. I'm looking for someone, maybe you've seen her?"

"Well, there ain't been anyone new here, 'cept for you, 'f 'course,"

'Damn, I guess she's not in this part of the museum.' "Can you help me find her? Please?" At this point I'm practically begging. I've got to find Charlie, I need to make sure she's alright.

"Of 'course! We'll go over to Octy, see if he knows where your friend's gone off to."

*time skip to when they get to the roman side*

We get to the Roman side, and I almost pass out when I see the architecture. It might all be done for looks, but from what I could see, they did a fantastic job on the details.

I'm interrupted from my gazing when Jedidiah says, "Y'know, yer takin' this a lot better than most,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, fer one, yer not panickin at the fact yer tiny, now."

'I'm too surprised I'm in a movie to be upset that I'm small, but okay.'

"And two, well, it's mostly just you not panickin', that's all I really got." As he says this, I start hearing talking in the distance. Some voices I don't know, but two of them stick out.

"-and, oh my gosh, your actually Octavius! This is wild, wow!"

We turn a corner and there she is, talking to Octavius and some of the other roman soldiers. And- oh god, she's wearing a toga. If she wasn't cute before, she definitely was now.

Running as fast as I can towards her, I shout, "Charlie!"

She turns around just in time to get tackle hugged by me. I almost cry into her shoulder. 'We might both be small here, but at least we're not alone,'

I vaguely hear Octavius ushering the Jedidiah and the others out to give us space, too focused on hugging Charlie. 'Wait, I'm hugging Charlie.'

I awkwardly back up, blushing. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to just hug you, I just- I- fuck, I'm just sorry."

"Drew! It's okay, you're fine!" I look at her and she's smiling at me, and without missing a beat she goes on. "You don't need to apologize, you know how much I love hugs!"

Ah, fuck. Now I look like an idiot. In front of Charlie, too.

Before I can say anything, she says, "I can't believe we're in a movie! And not just any movie, Night at the Museum! I was just talking to Octavius! Octavius, Drew! The emperor of Rome, lover of Jedidiah Smith! And-"

I interrupted her before she could continue. "Charlie, we can't stay here. We have to go home."

"But, Drew, there's so much to do here! We can't just leave without saying hi-"

"...Charlie..."

“-and we can talk to all the different exhibits! Oh my gosh, Drew this is gonna be so fun! Who should we talk to first?”

“Charlie…”

“I was thinking Sacajawea, she’s so cool! Oh! Do you think she’d like me?”

“Charlie.”

“What am I talking about, of course she would. Maybe after her we can go see Ahk!”

“Charlie-”

“Maybe he’d even let us look at the tablet! The Tablet! I wonder if it’s cold? Or does the magic make it warm?”

“Charlie-!”

“*gasp* Oh my gosh I almost forgot about the stars! Maybe we could-

“Charlie! Listen to me, goddammit!”

She stopped, startled at my outburst, looking at me with those big eyes.

“Charlie- *sigh*” My voice trembles as I say, “Look at us, Charlie, we’re too small.”

She gives me a look that says she doesn’t understand.

“We could die here, Charlie. Can’t you see that?”

It looks as though a switch is flipped in her head. She's quiet, so I go on.

"Charlie, we can't stay here, you have to understand. It's just- it's not- I can't-"

"We're- we're gonna die here?" her voice quivers, tears are starting to build in her eyes.

'Oooohh, I fucked uppppp,'

"No- no, Charlie, we're not-"

"Drew, I don't wanna die." Her voice is vibrating now, and she can't hold back her tears.

"Charlie, honey, look at me. No, don't look over there, look at me, okay?" She looks at me, and seeing her cry almost makes me break. But I have to be strong. For the both of us.

"Okay, I want you to repeat after me." She nods.

"We are going to get home."

"We- *sniff* we are going to get- get home."

"We are going to be okay."

"We are- going to- to be okay."

"We are not going to die."

"We are not- not going to die."

"Good. Now, let's figure out what to do first, alright?"

"Alright."

"Let's go and find the others, they might be able to help us out." Charlie grabs my hand as I walk away, making me stop.

"Drew. They went this way."

I let out a small sigh and smile a bit to myself. 'Good, she's back to normal. Somewhat.' "Yeah, you're right. We'll go and ask for help, this way."

That gets a small laugh out of her.

'Don't worry, Charlie. We'll get home. No matter what it takes.'

---------

Aaaaaaanndd that's all for now :) I'll make a part 2 to this, it's just starting to get kinda long for me, so I'm stopping for now.

#Shroomies #night at the museum #natm #my OC's #Charlie #Drew #Charlie x Drew #Drew x Charlie #Jedidiah Smith #Jedidiah natm #Gaius octavius #Octavius natm

[demonicintegrity]

So if y’all don’t know I do go to SCAD, and I will be staying at in the new dorms in the fall. As a student I was not told anything about the new dorm nor given a floorplan because it’s still being finished. I was under the impression it was just some old apartments being renovating for the ever-growing amount of students. I can tell you that me and my roommates were just scrambling to find a dorm to live in during the housing registration in the spring. We originally wanted to live in Boundary where we had separate rooms and a kitchen.

I did not know it used to be affordable housing. I only discovered this today while I was looking online to see if a video tour had come out yet. (It had not. My friend had shown me pictures from one of their instagram accounts yesterday and I checked the housing pages this morning.) These former apartments wouldn’t even have a kitchen in them, even though they obviously would have the facilities necessary. So we all have to get a meal plan again.

Now that alone definitely sounds like gentrifying, doesn’t it? Even without telling you we need to pay to use our washing and drying machines ($1.50 each) that have been contracted out to a separate company and that all the meal plans are outrageous. Anyone can see that this college absolutely makes money. And they apparently don’t pay taxes on it.

And yes, the town of Savannah is definitely split on it, it’s not the first time they’ve bought up the town. And they’re building a 17 story apartment building not far from it.

So where do the students fit in this? Well, because I was a freshman circa covid lockdown I never got to visit the town. So when I moved into the Hive last September, I was shocked to be greeted with protesters blaming the students for the gentrification. I didn’t even know there was gentrification in Savannah, I had never been in it or any other city for that matter. Before moving in all I knew about was Scad’s amazing programs and how established and revered they were in the art world, according to their own material of course.

It wasn’t that I started walked down Broughton did I realize there were problems here. Now I’ve seen closed down and renovating buildings before, I’ve seen homeless before. But I’ve never seen it so close to a busy street. And seeing a homeless man down the block from high-end chain stores like Lululemon and Banana Republic was an experience.

I was warned not to go over the train tracks at night, that’s where people get mugged. I heard second hand many students apparently were mugged within the first week.

I visited the Victory Village once. It’s a dorm that had a kitchen and I was hanging out with classmates there. It’s so gentrified. You see this amazing pristine building with the tallest chain linked fence I’ve ever seen, taller than the building itself, next to crumbling sidewalks.

It didn’t take any of the incoming students long to see where the problems were. Just outside our own buildings really. But what can we do? I take out a private loan every year just to attend. (I can’t believe that articles said they make $10,000 profit each student, while I took out a loan for $47,000 this year.) I’m looking for a job, within the student job portal, even though the minimum wage in Georgia is $7.25. (I’d be making $2.50 + tips if I worked at that tea house.)

So how can we help? I really don’t know. I’m just a student with no backup plan SCAD doesn’t work out for me. But when I go down in the fall I can try again. I’ve given food to the homeless but that doesn’t change the Georgia heat. Maybe I can gather some students and we can talk to admin about any sort of charity outreach. Or sponsoring some low income housing. I don’t know. I’m just rambling because I never would’ve thought I’d be this intimately close with a gentrifying source. And I feel a bit of responsibility towards it but also powerless to do anything about it.

#scad #gentrification #rambles

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to the working week although, for those of you working in the NHS, welcome to just another day. And welcome to October! Yes, mate, the tenth month of the year!

Friday was actually a bit weird and everybody who works from home will know what I’m talking about. I didn’t have any pressing work to do or any deadlines; I wasn’t in a chain and didn’t have anybody waiting for me to finish a piece of work. In truth, I could have watched telly all day and it wouldn’t have affected my work flow. I had free time Saturday evening, Sunday evening, I have time this morning. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to waste the day – you know me – so I found other jobs that needed doing (less important jobs!) I found some time to go for a walk, which revived and refreshed me. I prepped for future lessons. I prepped for future radio shows. I found time for a 20-minute power nap. I even got Henry out of the cupboard beneath the stairs and vacuumed the carpets. And then, at about 4.00, I began to feel lonely. Just like that Police song, ‘The Bed’s Too Big Without You’. Weird feeling. I missed the other (irritating) inhabitants my house. Of course, I’m never alone. There’s 20 people I should call and another 20 I should write letters to. Thankfully, my son and The Mighty Josiah turned up, and so did the volume in the house!

Many thanks to everyone that listened to ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’ live and many thanks to Debra Marie Wallace for being executive producer on Part Two. Didn’t she do a good job? I was cracking up in the studio. She always makes me laugh. Unfortunately, the software at Mixcloud has decided I have broken their rules (for the fourth time!) I have not, of course! I know their bloody rules all too well! I have put in an appeal, which will hopefully get resolved this week? Next Saturday’s executive producer is Mark Dezzani, who is the man that connected me with my most recent (and very luxurious) blue towelling robe.

One of our lovely friends lost her mum over the weekend, so we now have a funeral in our diary. Another friend is waiting for two different people to pass away and spends each day waiting for that phone call to arrive: grim feeling! As you know, we’ve reached that age. Relatives and friends are leaving us with alarming regularity. Some of your relatives and friends might be saying to you, “You’re always going away!” or “You’re always going out!” We know why, don’t we? We are LIVING life. Life is to be LIVED! If you’re not LIVING life, you’re just marking time, innit? While we can, we are living the hell out of these days because, when we’re gone, that’s it! Dust in the wind.

Terrible, terrible story in the paper last week. One of the world's biggest airlines has been called into the spotlight after a black father was accused of trafficking his own children on a flight from Atlanta to Los Angeles earlier in September. David Ryan Harris, a musician who has collaborated with the likes of John Mayer, Carlos Santana and the Dave Matthews Band was aboard an American Airlines flight two weeks ago, heading to LAX with his two biracial sons, Truman and Hendrix. As they were de-boarding the plane, they found four police officers waiting for them at the gate. Trying to control which races you can have children with? Racists stooping to new lows. Abhorrent behaviour!

I hope your week goes well? I shall be saying my atheist prayers for you. Have a marvellous and momentous Monday. I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #books #weekend #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #radio

[lamentschaft]

Are we on the same level?

A better yet unexpected Friday, on 15th September 2023

The same hour as yesterday’s, at my usual table…

Here I suddenly remember what sort of calms me down a bit as a human living in this immortal world. It then changes me as who I am now that still sometimes feel rather ungrateful for what has happened to me or what I have been destined to. At first, quite on and off, I was questioning myself not really with great intense through a number of whys and whys. It then confused me eventually that why I turned to be someone like that? My heart and soul are totally against it all. They know it’s not the right way I should live my life with.

Unlike other people I met and probably will meet, I feel myself very unlucky though not thoroughly as a man. While they were fully filled with good fortune, money, prestige and special treatment or I’d love to call it as a lucky privilege, I was the opposite. I had to experience being ‘different’ in a way how God creates my life. I didn’t have the experience like what they did in the past. I had to firmly yet sadly face the fact that my whole life is not like theirs. That’s absolutely only about myself, and it excludes my parents, siblings and family entirely. It’s just me who’s often times very silly to act.

As a grown-up, I begin to understand slowly and learn to accept that life is always fair to all of us. God specifically has planned the right one for me, you, and of course them, my super nice friends and colleagues. I can see now why I was just given this ‘privilege’ that I used to see as ‘personal disadvantage’. In fact, throughout my life, I am always paired with anyone who gets what I expected to have on the same level. Isn’t it such a pearl deep down in the sea? I am just too naïve to admit that I’m as special as they are no matter what. My destination and theirs are basically the same; however, our roads are just different. Mine is so distinct that not many people can smoothly pass it through like I probably did. This road is just going to what I need to be and not what I want to be. That’s the most important thing I should’ve realized long and long time ago.

It's just so remarkable that I am successfully over it now. I did it. As a matter of fact, the success is not the moment when you finally gain so much money, reach higher position in a job or people’s perspective, or even live in luxury. It’s actually when you just awake and open your eyes widely with bigger smile you’ve ever had that you realize everything. You realize that you should be way more grateful and thankful for those who have raised you up until now than ever! Really, without them, you could be still stuck in a middle of nowhere, with no proper life or blessing.

Today, I really want to thank to what inspires me, so I am able finally to write down this really longing personal lament. In particular, my not-really-me ability in writing is at last unearthed, and it makes me feel a bit prouder now, at least.

Thank you, ND, wherever you are.

#lamentschaft

[alyjojo]

September 🐿️ 2023 Monthly - Aries

Whole of your energy: 3 Pentacles

Some of you could be hiring contractors or fixing things around the house, I get a repair vibe from this area. There’s a lot of options on how to do something, and it’s like Step 1: save the money for it - is already complete. But you could need help bringing something to fruition or deciding on what the best course of action is. Calling in a professional, or more likely, a friend that knows how to do what you’re needing.

What’s going on in September:

Justice:

You’ve gotten a fair answer (you feel) from someone you trust, could be a Cap. Or this is showing you’ve exhausted every option of possibly doing something yourself, which was the initial goal, and Queen of Pentacles tends to have no problem pulling off amazing feats all by herself, and still being on time for the next major task, there is no rest. Aries energy is similar in that regard, and you’re conflicted inside because you really wanted to just knock something out solo, without the need for assistance. But alas, you need a professional opinion or handyman to do the job. Or at least assist, I’m getting you’re willing to spend 4 Pentacles…and hardly. Could end up costing a lot more than that, just fyi. It’s retrograde season after all.

5 Wands:

You’re majorly conflicted about finances, maybe you’re getting quotes or ideas from different sources, and you’re not sure which is more beneficial to you in the long run. Is the cost difference a quality difference, and should you just spend more…but maybe you don’t have more. You have 4 to spare. Period. You don’t want to rush into a job like this to only be able to get it partially done and have to leave it on the back burner while you save up some more money. Or whatever it is doesn’t work like that. All or nothing 💯 Your reading is the first that’s not emotionally intense, I’m not clapping for financial problems or anything but honestly, your energy is like a breath of fresh air 😅 It could be worse!

The High Priestess:

You’re being quiet with the people you’re involved with, getting quotes from, or advice from, while you work the details out in your head. You refuse to start anything you can’t finish, 8 Pentacles shows this could be something major, or you wouldn’t care this much. For now, you’re holding back until you either get the answer you want/need to hear, or the money to go with the best one you can find so far.

10 Pentacles:

Your family may disagree with you on the decision to hold back right now, they don’t want these plans to fail or be held back, everyone seems to have a point of view on what you should do, probably why you’re moving silently in the first place. You see it as if you continue ahead without being sure, you could put yourself into massive debt, or still be forced to stop at a more vulnerable time when it’s not possible to deal with something unfinished. I’m thinking of like…a roof? My husband’s been on and on about a roof that’s why that’s what comes to mind for me. He’s right, but that’s besides the point 😆 You probably are right too. To have half of a roof ripped off and half brand new is kinda pointless when it rains so, that’s the best example I can muster for this energy. If you don’t have enough, or something isn’t right with what you’re trying to do, then this plan will simply have to wait, whether people agree or not. Probably for the best.

Knight of Pentacles rev:

This goes from moving along to an absolute dead stop 🛑 Zero progress. You have your wishes and dreams in doing this thing, The Hierophant shows “an expert” needed at whatever you’re trying to do. Maybe a teacher that teaches you to do it yourself, again that’s THE goal, but…don’t be reckless. When it comes to money, I don’t think you will, otherwise I’d be like every wife in a the world lecturing about how you can’t just learn how to roof off of YouTube, please stay alive and pay a professional…when you can 😆 Is it happening this month, no. Nothing is. But are you getting clearer on your options and the course of action you need to take? Yes. That’s all you can do. Be patient. I know, you’re not. If you’re resisting even asking for quotes, this whole reading is saying “can you just do that?” instead of trying to do everything on your own. Besides, you’re thick in the middle of retrograde season, signing contracts and getting major repairs done isn’t the best idea right now anyway, look at it like that. It’s also not a good idea to jump into something yourself. That’s not a challenge. You probably could but…wait ❤️

How you pulled Aubergine too, I have no idea. You and everyone else. Retrogrades 😵‍💫

888 in your reading shows the action to be taken is - no action 💯 All in a row even. 8 Wands rev is literally no movement, no work, holding back your efforts until a more opportune time, more clarity, a better deal, whatever the thing is, the answer is not right now. You’re needing to use your intuition with some of these things, and you’re also needing guidance from people that know what they’re doing too. Neither of which are coming this month. Assume there’s a reason, something better is coming later.

4444 shows to take a break, give this a rest, step back and focus on saving money for the time being, spending more time at home with your family, or refraining from making any major purchases, repairs, or adjustments. You don’t want to make the wrong one.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Capricorn, Libra, Sagittarius, Leo, Virgo & Scorpio

Oracles: ✨

21 - Truth

An honest desire to know and speak the truth produces beneficial results.

10 - Wish Granted

Believe in your abilities as a Magic Maker to manifest your wishes; they will soon be your reality.

44 Home 🏡

This card represents a homecoming of the soul, of finding your tribe, of coming home. The situation you are inquiring about has the potential to be a homecoming - a safe and secure place that both nourishes you and facilitates your growth, whether it be a school, a relationship, a job, or truly a home. Go for it! All paths lead home. Home doesn’t have to be where you grow up; family doesn’t always mean the people of your birth family. Look at an expanded meaning. Family are people who share the same core values and path. Home can mean a place you have yet to visit or experience, but once there, it feeds your soul in a way that gives you no doubt you are home. Alternately, find your safe place. This is where the answers you seek will be found.

We enter into September as:

A Woman Named Aubergine 🧙🏻‍♀️:

“You are not to know.”

A situation is perhaps not as you think. It would be wise to be an observer and not speak out just yet, for there is not enough information to act upon, and you must not respond until you are certain. You will know what you need to know when it’s time, and do not worry. Do not think about confrontation at this time, even if you’re right, it will not serve you. The unknown is not an easy place to be, but it is indeed where you are meant to be, for now. It is no longer necessary to fear, just watch & observe.

What is to be learned in September:

Bahana Beige 🎨

“I quietly listen, allowing you to color your own palate.”

If you are drawn to Bahana Beige, it is time to take an impartial look at your situation and drop the excuses. Your answers will come when you remain still. Take no action at this time. The action of Bahana Beige is to listen. Now is the time to consider the other side, because there may be some valuable insights in another point of view. This technique can help produce great strides in communication in your relationships. When we are fixed on a position (or opinion), we are not in the neutral space of Bahana Beige.

This is an opportunity to see who you are in a relationship. Ask yourself, “How does my present attitude or position serve me?” When you answer this question, you will begin to gain more insight into choosing what is for the highest good in any situation. Another way to position a question is in thinking from the other person’s point of view. Is there another way to see this situation? What do you see now?

Beige may be a lucky color 👜

#aries tarot reading #monthly tarot reading #monthly #September 2023 #Aries #tarot #tarotblr

[that-fema-corps-blog]

Day 44

September 15, 2022

First day in the office. Up at 5:30 (ugh), out by 6:15, arrived at FEMA headquarters about an hour later. We scanned our personal identification verification card to get into the main area, then met our FEMA liaison officer and another team in an office. A couple FEMA members gave us a tour of the building, then let us take whatever we wanted from the supply closet. I grabbed some pencils, a pencil sharpener, pencil lead, a sharpie, rubber bands, sticky notes, etc. Highlight of my day.

No context image (and likely the only one I’m allowed to take inside headquarters):

I worked on independent study courses and continued taking notes on the supplemental response teams materials we read yesterday until lunch. I came back an hour later and completed the remaining two independent study courses we were assigned yesterday. Afterward, I worked through some Accenture professional development virtual trainings we were given back during the Corps Training Institute. We were allowed out at 15:00, but a couple of my teammates were stuck in a meeting until 17:00. The remaining teammates left to explore DC, but I had a mild headache by then, so I opted to stay at headquarters.

I continued the professional development trainings, but was later informed that it wasn't mandatory. Sunk cost fallacy means I'll complete it anyway, but in my not-so-professional opinion, there is barely any point to the Accenture trainings... Sure, there is some basic info on writing cover letters, but it is little use for anyone who is already familiar. It also provides advice on how to manage time and communicate with people in a professional context that I can't help but interpret as "do more work without compensation" (yet somehow keep a work-life balance), "feel guilty for relaxing," and "don't be autistic." It's worded in an inoffensive, almost feel-good, corporate propaganda sort of way that must be common in job trainings, but it still makes me uneasy. Fortunately this was not the norm for the AmeriCorps and FEMA trainings.

We eventually arrived back at the hotel at around 17:30. I took a break for an hour, then ate and sent a road trip photo to the overall FEMA Corps Community Relations Representative (this will get confusing, as I have the Community Relations Representative specialty role, but only for my team). I emailed my team leader what I had done for the week, and called it a day.

#fema corps #onboarding #round 1

[ledenews]

Janine Varner: A Mother's Life Lessons Forever Invaluable & Never Forgotten

Patricia Brown is a smart lady, and she’s a mother, too, so, of course, Happy Mother’s Day to Mrs. Brown. We know she’s intelligent because of the guidance she’s offered her daughter, Janine, one of four magistrates in Ohio County who, in fact, is a mother herself. So, yes, Happy Mother’s Day to Janine, as well. Now, no one is talking about the usual guidance “stuff” that mothers and daughters discuss. Nothing about boyfriends – or husbands named Joe – and not necessarily about children, either. Those conversations took place, sure, but it was during one of those life-advice consults when Momma Brown taught Janine to be sure to love wholly, to never give up, and to fight with grace when combat is the only option. So, that’s exactly what Varner did when an anonymous coward filed a complaint against her with the state Judicial Investigations Commission in September 2019 because the New Jersey native was graduated from a vocational institution rather than a regular high school. The JIC admonished her, and Varner resigned, but there was a window-to-make-it-right chance during which she had to pass the Mountain State’s equivalent to the common GED test. So, Varner refused to surrender and she fought as-politely-as-possible for the magistrate’s position because of how much she loved the job, her family, and her community, just like her mother taught her daughter to do. So, Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers, and a particular thank you goes out to Momma Brown for raising a daughter who now is spreading a special kind of goodness to those who need it most. Varner was appointed to Magistrate in Ohio County but then won the position in 2020. Who is your favorite comic book character of all time? Honestly, I’ve never really been into comic books. If I had to choose a favorite superhero, I guess Batman, and Wonder Woman. What is the biggest difference between your hometown in New Jersey and the Upper Ohio Valley? I love New Jersey, my hometown of Point Pleasant. I was blessed with an amazing childhood growing up playing on and working at beaches and boardwalks along the Jersey Shore. The Upper Ohio Valley has been very kind to us, my family for 31 years now. I believe there are so many things to do for so little money here. The difference is the people. The community vibe is so strong here, it really is. This is such a small town really, and whether it be folks that I’ve met through our children or jobs that I’ve had, I can proudly say I have special bonds that still hold true today with so many. I love that so much. I could drive around New Jersey for hours without seeing a familiar face, but here, I drive around with one hand on the wheel, one hand waving to people. It’s awesome. What advice have you offered the most as a magistrate? Magistrates have to abide by many canons according to the rules of judicial conduct so we are very limited in what we can say. Sadly, we see a lot of drug charges. I often tell folks during their first appearance if in front of me, that they are better than what they are dealing with, that they deserve a happy and sober life and just wish them luck. It is not often, but it does occasionally happen where we do see a very happy ending, and I always think that deserves a hug. I have been out and about somewhere with someone coming up to me and thanking me and updating me on their progress and lives … that’s always way cool and makes my heart smile. This position I hold now is at times the most stressful yet rewarding (if that makes sense) I’ve ever had in my life. Joe and Janine have been married since 1989 and now reside in the village of Bethlehem. What song from the 1980s do you love the most and why? Oh, I’m my opinion I believe the 80s was the best decade and I absolutely love love, love music. Oh my gosh, there’s so many great songs. It is so hard to choose just one. I would have to say the soundtracks of my youth, the songs that can throw me back, make me smile, and bring me to good reminiscing tears would be anything by Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi & throw in some Van Halen/Hagar, too (giggling). The Varner family recently had a wedding, and that brought together the entire clan. What is the biggest lesson you have learned from your Mother? Oh, my goodness, there are so many, she is just an amazing, beautiful inside and out woman. My mom will be turning 80 years young in June. My mom has an amazing outlook on life and very strong faith. She has taught us to always, always be kind, to do what’s right, to accept flaws, to always look for silver linings, to always look for and believe in signs, to work hard and prove yourself, to take of others including taking care of ourselves, to see three sides of a story, to love wholly, to never give up, to fight with grace. Just to name a few lol I always get choked up and am so grateful when I am told I resemble her … it is an amazing compliment. We are miles apart, phone calls and Facebook messages away, but always, always connected by our hearts … I love my Mom so much. Read the full article

[tryst-art-archive]

September 2012: "Why I Write"

Another day, another assignment in which I was terribly depressing. I feel bad for everyone who had to deal with me.

------Text follows---->

            It’s sad to say, but writing is becoming increasingly decentralized within my identity. There is exactly one universe and six (admittedly long) stories I’d like to tell, and after that, it would seem, my mind is barren. I’m not ready to give the whole endeavor up wholesale just because my priorities have shifted from glory to comfort and personal sustainability, but it seems only fair to admit that though I continue to write (on and off as the mood strikes), the act itself repeatedly falls by the wayside in favor of other pursuits—a social life I began far too late, web design, graphic design, copyediting, occasional photography, videogames, the simple task of turning the shell of a house into a home. It would seem that writing, in the way I have always understood it at least, has been but one of the necessary steps in the wobbling walk to my true, ever-unknown passion. But still, I must continue to write at least a little, as I must continue to think.

            I have always been better with the written word rather than the spoken version, and perhaps that is a product of circumstance—I spent the better part of my life online, shutting out the real world in favor of a much more soothing and accepting digital one, and to some extent I remain in that mode of thought; people terrify me—and practice. Years of conversation, discussion and debate, and journaling to an imaginary audience, all safely tucked away on the internet, prepared me for writing, and not speaking. (A retail job in my freshman year of college taught me to speak.) My thoughts poured directly from my mind into the ubiquitous comment box and from there, with little editing, out unto the world. In this way, writing and thought were and are synonymous for me. Thus, we have two initial reasons to explain my predilection for writing: it is easier for me than social communication, and it is a natural and effective way for me to think.

            I am and have been drawn primarily to fiction; I began generate a complex fantasy world and partially living within it through roleplay (online, where else?) and through the maintenance of what might be considered imaginary friends (in an eight-year-old, though I was much older at the time). Over the years, this world and its characters became more than just a set of tales, a set of peoples, and became a psychological landscape, a fantasy setting that is as much me as the human body and the human thoughts before you; it is equally representative and equally sensitive to interference. Yet, human beings are eager to share, to be seen and known and, most importantly, understood, and to that extent I have aimed toward writing out my world and its characters, and, thereby, myself. Thus we have reason three: to release the hounds!

            Still, the novels are not written, and any writing I might do outside of a classroom setting is nonexistent. I have taken every fiction course [...] College has to offer, and so I began in on poetry—not to my liking; I find myself too pretentious with poetry in my grip—and tried screenwriting—a class that drove me to my knees; never a Sunday night went by without tears—and now I would like to complete my quest to test every literary water [...] can offer me. I move now to drama—which seems promising—and nonfiction—which I meant to take years ago but somehow never got around to. I am here to try my hand at something I have only ever done as a hobby, a passing amusement, and in the most informal way possible; I am here to absorb and to try and to experiment and to come out the other side with a greater understanding of myself both as a writer and as a person, and if I have made some useful work in the process, then all the better.

#it huuuuuurrrrttss #oh my god it is so hard to read some of this stuff #like baby boi u were doing it to yourseeeellllfff!!! #old writing #writing archive #assignments #college #10s #2012 #Age 21 #personal essay #why i write #writing

[letgolovemyself]

2022

Alright where does one begin? I really thought this was another great year, following 2021, and then September-December were an absolute shit show, of course being aligned with 555 which I saw from August till now. This year I feel like I spent more time alone than I have ever in my life. This is the first year of my life where I actually enjoyed the comfort of being by myself, looked forward to retreating to solitude, etc. This year was one of expectations versus reality: with people, myself, my job, my life, pretty much everything. At the beginning of this year I was pretty hopeful that I would meet the love of my life and finally get this happily ever after, which of course did not happen. IMO I “dated” 3 people this year: Mike, Adam, Pierce, Adam & Pierce at the same time LMAOOO jk you know that I was talking to at least 5 other people at the same time. I think the person I was most into was Adam, I was most heartbroken by Pierce. I also realized that I wasn’t actively dating until probably May/June of this year because I was in therapy, got diagnosed with BPD, I was changing jobs, finally got over Brendan and it took about 2 years. Which is honestly pretty impressive to me because I definitely thought it would take me probably the same amount of time that we dated. BUT WE MADE IT TO THE OTHER SIDE BITCH. I can listen to all the songs, go to raves, think about us without thinking that we should be together, I can look at photos and feel almost nothing - I am really 100% over it. 

I thought that 2020 was the hardest year of my life but bitch was I mother fucking wrong. I think 2022 was the hardest year of my life. I came face to face with Brendan and realized that he really isn’t shit and that he does this to every girl he encounters, which is so scary, but it helped me get over him and stop romanitcizing the abuse in my head. And yes, it was abuse (on both ends) because lying to someone, gaslighting them, just to string them along is abuse. Which is why when I apologized to him, he really stopped me mid sentence and told me not to apologize. I think he knows too that what he did was incredibly incredibly wrong and so fucked up. This was February when I also got into a bad accident, which likely is the reason my car ended up killing itself. The day after I saw Brendan is when this car accident happened as big old fuck you, realize your self worth, here is your punishment. But did I learn???? NOOOO hahahahah

I was absolutely miserable at CQA just being ignored, feeling like garbage with admin and my coworkers, being told that I called a child stupid... So I respected myself said fuck you to Glenn and I quit. I decided on a Thursday that I’m quitting, had my first round of interviews with Graham, second round on Sunday with Justin and in 3 days I was hired at Forte, and I didn’t return after spring break. This year I got a $7 thousand dollar raise. 

One highlight from this year was definitely moving to a job where I feel appreciated, seen, and valued. Forte is such an incredible school, the kids are great, staff is pretty good, and Justin trusts me to teach this curriculum, and said I have a talent for teaching reading and that it comes so naturally to me. 

When the school year ended, my summer plans were to go to Deadrocks and then come back and go to Spain, and I did all of that. Deadrocks was sooooo incredible, the most perfect experience I’ve ever had. I only knew Justin and Keyla, everyone else were strangers but they were the best group of strangers, we had such an amazing time. Refer to your notes app for more details bc I don’t want to get into all of it. I met Adam at Deadrocks, picked him up from the airport at like midnight, vibed the whole weekend, finished the weekend together at the airport. He is an absolute mindfuck of a person, but damn bitch if everything was perfect in the world, it would be him 100000%. I think we really get each other on a level that I can’t really explain, it’s just a feeling, it feels very much like I’m looking in a mirror sometimes. While at the same time I don’t quite feel I have to put on my best self in order to seem more appealing to him, which I do with literally every other guy. He feels like someone I’ve known for a long time, but I don’t know him that well at all. He feels like my favorite sweater. Which is type cute because I actually have his jacket right now. I wonder how different it is from his perspective because obviously I have a problem idealizing people as person with BPD. 

Spain was so amazing, I really can’t believe that I went to a whole different country by myself and spent basically the entire time alone. I was social and met some people around my age who were also traveling. I really shooted my shot a lot this year and it worked out every single time because men are bitches. While I was in Spain I was admitted to UAlbany to get my masters in literacy!! 

So in August I started grad school and my first full year at Forte, which was definitely the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. I worked my fucking ass off at my job, ran a club, built strong relationships with my students, helped them grow, and got a 4.0 GPA at the same time. 

Around the same time Mida and I stopped being friends, which I still don’t think I’ve processed because I’m unwilling to really think about how painful of an experience it is to kind of just continuously be dropped by people that switch up so fast, it is psychological torture when someone is your best friend and then the next day they say they don’t fuck with you anymore. The same thing happened with Justin, which was honestly for the best because I really wanted to end the friendship, but I didn’t want to lose the connection because I knew it would damage other relationships because he is literally a diagnosed narcissist, but ultimately he ended the friendship for doing the exact same thing he was doing, talking shit HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH. 

Anyways when I returned to Forte, I was seated next to Pierce and I was like alright this man is okay but he is definitely into me, so again I asked him if he could help me carry a TV, we started seeing each other in the beginning of September this lasted until Thanksgiving because I was so over begging this man for the bare minimum all the time, making all the plans. 

I just realized through this journaling that the men that broke my heart this year are both people that I actively pursued first meaning that I let my attraction/feelings be known. I’m not doing that anymore. I’m stepping out of my masculine energy and stepping into my feminine energy. 

Anyways I feel like this year I lost a few people that I was sure would be in my life for a long time, but I have realized I break my own heart so often because I invest in people so much more than they invest in me. I put so much more effort into my relationships than the other person does, so moving forward I will not be doing that. I’m giving everyone the same efforts they give me and only giving my energy to those that have shown me over time that they deserve it. I’ve been so extremely disappointed by people this year, and mostly I am disappointed in myself because I let so much slide, I gave people so many chances, and they showed me time after time exactly who they are, I knew in my gut they were not supposed to be in my life, but I made excuses for these people so many times just to keep them in my life. And I’m not doing that anymore. I think this is a normal part of getting older, you lose friends, etc. 

I’m only putting my time and efforts into the people that do the same for me.

I’m not forcing relationships anymore and I’m not begging anyone for anything ever again. I’m not looking for answers or reasons for why people have decided to leave my life or do the things that they’ve done. 

I’m being extremely exclusive and mindful of the people that I surround myself with because I’m over putting so much of myself into people just to end up by myself.

[davidcampiti]

"ANOTHER CHANCE" EXPLOSION

True story:  An artist whose work I long appreciated wanted to join our roster. He'd sent samples periodically since 2016; I'd watched him grow, enjoying his covers, pinups, and occasional story but wondered why he had not soared to stardom status.  Perhaps I could make the difference. 

I started him with a cover assignment, but he didn't follow the description and even his revised layout required a lot of back-and-forth.  Then he went quiet for many days.  He finally responded that he'd had to take care of his mother after complications with COVID, but he was back in the studio to resume work. Too late. I'd already reassigned the cover, which was drawn/colored/approved/paid for before I heard from him.  And I wondered precisely how COVID had affected his keyboard and telephone. What stopped him from a 1-sentence update warning me he couldn't finish the job on the agreed-upon schedule?  I told him as much, saying he needed clear communication; he told me he understood. Another project came his way, a 4-pages-wide banner/poster for a big event to honor certain people.  A reasonable budget, basically 8 large panels, lots of references all provided, a clear deadline -- I wrote to him, "Our last attempt to work together didn't go so well...."  He took three days to accept the job offer, blaming it on his sick mother.

On September 14th, he agreed to the 4-page assignment and generous three-week deadline of October 5th, acknowledging that included time for a colorist to do his part. On September 20th, the client asked why she had not received a layout to review.  I emailed or texted the artist multiple times each day asking for updates, to which he didn't respond. In fact, he didn't deliver the layout until September 29th.  I reminded him that he needed to pencil and ink the art in time for the colorist to deliver by October 5th. Client asked for corrections to the layout; October 5th, deadline day, still no revised layout, and the artist begged for "extra days,"  

Client gave him an extension to October 15th, which of course he blew right past.  The artist wrote, "Sorry about that, I was sick and that's why I missed the deadline I asked for more for you, and soon after that i took a test i was diagnosed with COVID and went to the hospital and stayed a few days away from my studio and drawing board, but I'm fine, i just had this mishap that made me waste time, I would like to finish the work, I will do my best, but i need a few more days to finish the pencils and inks, if i can continue i will be grateful. Sorry I didn't let you know I was sick."  Yet again, I was left wondering what prevented the artist from having someone text me a 1-line warning me, so I could reassign the job to meet the deadline.  He promised to deliver by October 22nd.

On October 18th, he wrote he was "finishing the details and will be sending it to you tomorrow." "Tomorrow" became four days later, yet he turned in only pencils for two of the eight large panels.

Eight more days passed before he completed pencils, on October 26th.  Bizarrely, some of his figures were oddly distorted, as if references had been adjusted in Photoshop without the Proportions locked.  I questioned the error multiple times. When he finally addressed it, he blamed the client, saying the distortions were in the pencils but the client approved them that way. The artist began delivering inked images one panel at a time for the colorist; of course, those distorted images were still not corrected, so the colorist had to make the revisions as best he could.

What's more, when the client and colorist asked about missing images in the Dropbox, the artist insisted he'd uploaded them.  So I screen captured a shot of everything in the Dropbox, sent it to the artist, and said, "SHOW me exactly where those images are."  He blamed the error on Dropbox and not on his failure to check/confirm the upload, and we lost yet another day waiting for him finally to upload the remaining pieces.

In the end, the colorist stayed up working 28 hours straight to deliver the files, coloring and adjusting and finessing and assembling the many pieces to deliver an acceptable final piece to the client.

Oblivious to his harm to the client and his many, many. muck-ups, the artist wrote to me afterward, "Sorry again for this inconvenience and delay, but in the end the job worked.  I would like another chance and hope we can continue working together."

Seriously?  My webmaster removed him from our roster today.  I don't need that kind of stress or damage to our company's reputation.  And our clients deserve professionals.

[preyforthewicked]

21.

I dated Eli for about a year and a half. It was fun for a college relationship. He was deeply insecure about a lot of things (he was over 21 years old without a driver’s license because his mom was a crazy neurotic hellbent on keeping him at home forever because she couldn’t stand the thought of not being needed by her kid anymore) and though I tried to be the best girlfriend, I was fucked up and got a lot of things wrong, too. Still, it was good until he made a sorry attempt at a sexual joke (“I wish you’d grab your ankles more!”) and out he went. This abrupt goodbye happened in July of 2015 and I never regretted it. He thought he’d bagged a good thing and I felt I could do much better. 

What followed was a sloppy summer fling and then a tightening of my physical boundaries. Once Senior year had begun, I entered the online dating sphere, went on a few dates, got ghosted by a guy I really liked who ended up getting back together with his ex (whom he of course swore up and down to me was crazy and he was beyond over her), and by March of 2016 had given up on boys. The ones around my age all seemed to be immature, uninteresting, or have psychological problems.

Then, serendipitously, I met the man I would later marry at a psychology conference in New York. 

From the very start, he was nothing like David. When we first saw each other in that huge conference room full of people, he looked at me and really seemed to see me, not just my physical form but whatever me was on the inside, too. We talked for four hours about music, movies, books, religion. I got his phone number and within a week, we decided to give dating a shot.

Whatever I had thought was love before was a pitiful shell of what I felt for Joseph. It was heady and almost overwhelming in its power. Being so deeply in love with someone is like being possessed or tripping on acid 24/7. I was overcome. It felt so good to connect with someone so deeply, so passionately. We told each other we were not only on the same page, but the same letter of the same word on so many things. Joseph told me I was the female permutation of his soul. We were so in sync and in harmony it was hard to believe it was real.

We married in September of 2017, a year and a half after meeting. Joseph was and is so incredibly amazing as a life partner; he loves me for everything I am. He appreciates my body, sure, but he also loves that I’m a writer, a fellow gamer, a Lord of the Rings fan, a lover of music. He knows my ambitions, interests, desires, and fears almost as intimately as his own. He takes care of me like I never imagined a spouse could. He loves me for me, all of me, not just the fleshy vessel I happen to occupy and what it might be able to do for him. 

We do have phenomenal sex, though, in case you’re wondering. I’ve never been eaten out and overall pleasured so much in my entire life.

The seeds David sowed did not stop growing after Joseph entered my life. I never had the desire to reach out to him again, but he still haunted me. On paper, my life was fantastic. Great marriage, stable full time job, owned a house, was physically the fittest I’d ever been, had a couple books published and worked on writing nearly every day. But in my head, I was never good enough. There were always things wrong. I felt attacked by my own thoughts, startled by their harsh negativity. My body, though in the best shape ever, was still nowhere near perfect. 

Alcohol became easier to acquire, my drinking easier to hide. Whenever I felt bad, which was more often than not, I drank. It got bad enough that I was drinking at my full time job just to get through the day. Just to cope with living inside my head. It was not a nice place to live. I was not kind to myself. I was not happy, and I couldn’t even articulate why.

It was not until 2020, 3 years into my perfect marriage with alcohol abuse and depressive thought loops in full swing, that it occurred to me David had never been in our relationship for love. That I was a victim of his abuse, something very far from a consenting party. 

This was 7 years after I ended it.

10/12/2020

A letter to my oppressor.

I loved you

(Or whatever it is a 15-year-old girl thinks is love).

I trusted you.

I sacrificed sleep

And friends

And time for you.

And you abused my naivete with relish

For years – 4 to be exact – 

And all that time I never knew

I was dressed as the victim in this play.

Did you really love me? Or was that just a leverage word

To pry my top off?

To peel open my legs?

I never questioned it, but now

7 years later,

A moment of bitter clarity.

After everything you took from me

I want nothing 

Except the apology you owe

Not only me

But my family, then and now.

You tricked me. Ruined me.

Fucked me in more ways 

Than one.

And all I want now 

is to know –

Are you sorry?            

(I never heard you say it.)

Did you know what you were doing

All along? Preying on innocence

In a time of vulnerable isolation?

Spinning stories about a future together

To a gullible girl with stars in her eyes?

From the bottom of your soul,

Trembling at the judgmental feet

Of Old Testament God, 

Are you sorry? 

Do you think that’s enough to save you

From the gates of Hell?

It was not until now, 2022, 9 years after I cut ties, 24 weeks pregnant with mine and my loving husband's first child, a daughter, did it dawn on me that David had abused me. Taken full advantage of me and abused me. Not by force but coercion and pressure. With “I love yous” and smiley emojis and promises of marriage. Yes, I was a precocious teen, a “wise for her age” fifteen-year-old girl. And it is true I agreed to everything he asked me to do. But he never really had my consent. 

#preyforthewicked #sexualabuse #autobiography

[crazybigredlove]

4th September 2013

Oh Pete. Miranda pulled me aside at work yesterday. 

Gulp. I would've told you yesterday but I was completely consumed with self-pity after that phone call from the ginger King Kong. 

Tried not to nervous vomit my lunch on her when with a sympathetic look she took me by my forearm down the hallway towards her office, all the while the unmistakable feeling that something bad might be about to happen began to well from deep inside. 

Sitting in her little office she folded her hands and looked over at me with such a caring, maternal expression that I knew it could only be bad news. Had there been anyone in the company that I cared dearly for (obviously with the exception of Michael, but had been talking to him only seconds before so knew that he was okay) I would have feared she was about to tell me that someone had passed on. As it was, I was starting to suspect that maybe my own doctor had asked her to deliver some tragic, terminal diagnosis. 

Turns out she is increasingly concerned by my mediocre performance of late. It has not gone unnoticed that I have missed the last three deadlines, and while all three pieces were eventually turned in, each was well below the usual standard. 

Honestly, it just seemed a little harsh for her to keep kicking me like this. How many times have we had this talk now? 

Of course, I start to shift uneasily in the seat. Sweating in that gross way that I do when I'm nervous, I'm practically sticking to the chair. This is it. Going to get fired. I will lose my job and be forced to turn to prostitution in order to keep Buffy in the manner in which he has become accustomed. 

Or worse, I’ll have to start touring him in dog shows to make money. I would rather prostitution. 

Just as I'm about to pass out from anxiety and lack of oxygen in the room, she suggests to me that she is aware that things haven't been great in my private life and perhaps I should take a week or two of annual leave to sort my head out so that I can come back refreshed and ready to tackle the world. 

Oh sweet baby, Jesus. Thank you. 

Now, safe in the knowledge that Buffy and I are not homeless as yet, I am actually quite excited about the prospect of spending some time during those two weeks weighing up my career options. No doubt Christopher will tell me to write a novel, but I'm not sure that's ever been done before. An entire manuscript in two weeks? This is one of those times when self-belief can only get you so far... Then again, I am completely broke and can neither afford to go away nor leave the house for even short periods. Staying at home writing is actually my most feasible option. And watching movies. Probably mostly watching movies. Having romantic fantasies of writing in all different cafes across the city and eventually finding the one that will inspire me to write a hit novel in the manner of JK Rowling. Aiming high, yes, but what is the point in having dreams and goals if achieving them doesn't take you to a level higher than the funk you're in? 

It sort of brought home how tough things have been lately. Those fine-tuned coping mechanisms I thought I had in place are clearly failing if Miranda is onto me. As surprising as it was that she's helping me out like this, it was a bit unsettling that she kept squeezing my hands and looking at me like, well, like people used to look at you when you first got sick. It's pretty obvious that she thinks I'm completely insane. It was nice to hear her say that she appreciates my work though and that the fitness section wouldn't be the same without me. She also said that she feels perhaps lately they haven't been challenging me enough, and if when I get back I am doing better she will give me some features to write, but without the extra demands. 

Never has a near breakdown been more rewarding. 

Rather than celebrating the start of a two-week vacation from the comfort of my couch wearing yoga pants, I had dinner with Jamie instead. Insistent as she was that I drink copious amounts of wine with her, I couldn't possibly say no or I'd be that rude guest, so I'm writing this from her spare room relying heavily on the autocorrect function in my email and apologise profusely if certain words or sentences are nonsensical. We went full pathetic and watched How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days. Pointed out to her the ridiculousness of watching that movie given that I practically have a Masters degree in how to lose men in far less time than that. Sympathetic as her eyes were at first, the wine flowed and they made a definite transition to pitying. Relax, she wasn't so saddened by the state of my life that she was discouraged from talking incessantly about Holly's fast-looming wedding. 

"Seven." I cut her off and squint at the wedding picture hanging on the wall. "Seven what?" She eyes me quizzically. "Seven days," I state matter-of-factly. 

"For what?" "Seven days was the length of my shortest relationship." "No! Really?" "Yup. Seven days. Although if you count Big Red it's less than twenty-four hours. He asked me to be his girlfriend and the next time I heard from him was like a fortnight later when he was telling me he had a new girlfriend, so I feel like maybe that was a pseudo-relationship and shouldn't count. If that one doesn't count then it's seven days." "Wow. I mean I knew things didn't always work out for you, but that is just cruel." "Yeah," I try to hide a hiccup. "He turned out to be more of a jerk than he let on. I think that's the unfair bit. They shouldn't be allowed to hide it. They should just have to be open at the start. Like, 'Hey I'm a jerk. Don't date me.' Why don't they ever say that?" "It would make it significantly harder to get laid." 

"That's right. And all they care about is getting laid. See. Jerks." "Liv, you knew he was bad news. You knew it from the start. Right now I think you're only holding on so tightly because you realise you want a committed relationship, you want your life to move to the next phase, and you're scared you won't find someone to do that with. It's okay, sweetie. Lots of people in your situation feel that way. No one ever thinks they're going to be the one who is in their thirties and single. Now hand me those ribbons would you? I want to put bows on the envelopes. Did you think the silver and blue theme like the invites or the usual penis theme on the night?" 

Is it clear to you now why I'm drunk? I'm refusing to be lured into bridal shower talk. Especially when it is penis-themed bridal shower talk. 

"I mean, I knew. I wrote a list. But I didn't really know. How can you ever really know that?" Jamie's tongue pokes out the side of her mouth as she drunkenly tries to paste a ribbon on an envelope and it was impossible to tell whether she was even listening. "I think it was the point about his maturity level that should've made the argument to not date him beyond refute. With a quizzical expression Jamie looked up. "Why are you still thinking about him? He has a girlfriend and he spends his time calling you and trying to make you cry. That guy is bad news. Such bad news. You have got to get rid of him." 

She's right. Of course she's right. And I have. I think. Until the next time he calls anyway. I'd block him but then I wouldn't know if he called or not and the fact that I need to know tells me I may not have completely grasped how people act when they are over someone. 

"Yeah. I will. Find me a Franco. That would make it easier." 

"This probably isn't the time to point out to you that it's unlikely you'll be marrying a Hollywood heartthrob." "Feed my cookies, tell me I'm pretty, and let me have my fantasies." 

"Here. Have a cookie." She reaches out with a plate and a smile. "You already know you're pretty. If you want to marry a famous actor I will even got ordained so I can be the celebrant for you." "See, I knew you could be supportive." 

"Now no more cookies or you'll get fat." Supportive only goes so far apparently. 

Liv x 

[thisisafuckingassessment]

POST 1

What am I doing here?

Today is the day it came into my mind that I have to do this assignment and I am a 26-year-old adult now, so I told to myself: ‘Fanni, just sit the fuck down and start typing, because you’re going to hate yourself during your Christmas break - when you are drinking the 5th pálinka shot and regretting eating all those bejgli that grandma made - for not writing even a word and the assignment is due to midnight. As I mentioned I am a responsible adult now I’m so determinate I’ve even changed my bedsheet today so believe me when I say I’m going to write EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

But first things first let me make myself a frozen pizza, because I’m hungry.

Ok. Pizza is in the oven. 190° 10-15 minutes. So 10 or 15? Tell me exactly, because if I leave it for 15 and it is burned, I’ll be mad for sure. Now I have 15 minutes to tell you the story about how I got to MDD. (or 10?)

Today Robin told me that he felt empowered that he got accepted to this master, because 300 or 400 people were applying and at that point I just couldn’t help myself and just laughed. I was in that belief, that I am only in this course because there were a few free spots left.

In the meantime my pizza is done and I created a blog, called pálinka. Yes, pálinka. Why? Don’t ask me why. I needed to come up with a name and the only thing came into my mind were pálinka and bejgli so I choose the better option.

So back to the story of how I got to MDD (it could be a good title of a series like How I Met Your Mother). So I was at home in my bed around February thinking about that there is a deadline of applying to MOME (this school was kind of the only option for me to apply for master in Hungary). I was feeling shit about it applying for the third time, because the first time my application was a mess, I didin’t have time to finalize my portfolio and I didn’t prepared for the interview, not even a minute and they accepted my application… with 98/100 points (I’m not writing it down because I am trying to flex with this but it is needed information to understand how ironic i felt later). Later my application got cancelled, because I didn’t earned my BSc degree in time. Next year I applied again, at that time I was working at the same design studio for 2 years. I uploaded a very nice portfolio, I prepared for the interview, I felt empowered and I got rejected in the first round, with very low point. It really didn’t make any sense. So this February I was about to apply for the third time and then it felt like a big joke. I didn’t even want to study there, just because it is the best option in Hungary it doesn’t mean it is the best option for me. So I started to search master programs in Germany, because Dani my (later ex) boyfriend was living in Berlin and I was in love I really wanted to move there. (I was even learning German just because of him lol). And then when I started to search there were more Master programs coming up from Europe and I was like, why not apply to all that I am interested, what can I lose? I only have to decide in September anyway. So I applied to MDD as well. I’ve sent all the documents, had my interview and that’s it.

As I told this was in February and I was still working at a design studio, but I wasn’t really satisfied with that job at that time, I was trying to find a designer job in Germany, but I got rejected 241 times (yes, exactly 241, I have an excel sheet about it) At that point I wanted to quit my job and just move in with Dani, without any new job opportunities. I felt unhappy at home, so at least I could be unhappy, but not in a fucking long distance relationship. I applied as a hostess to Soho House Berlin, because if I can’t work as a designer why not serve them. I got the job, I told the good news to Dani, who came home (Bp) the next day and broke up with me. What a jerk. I mean for real. I was like what the fuck is happening? I am about to leave everything behind and he is the one breaking up with me. I felt like shit and why not make big decisions when I am emotional so I’ve decided to move to Amsterdam to Szonja (my sister). The next morning I went to work and I quit and bought my one way ticket to Amsterdam. That’s it, the hardest part was done. I figured that they have Soho House in Amsterdam, so why the fuck not serve the designers in Amsterdam instead of Berlin. I had an interview with Ben (he is my boss now) and he hired me the day before I moved here. Fun fact: he hired me with 0 experience, because he needed somebody to design the menus and it is easier to teach somebody how to serve the guests than teach how to design. I moved here on the 28th of April and started to work 1st of May. On my first day of work it was very busy at the restaurant, no one taught me about my job, lot of guests were rude to me and I had literally no idea what to do. I came home at the evening and I was crying so bad, I was feeling like shit and I thought ‘what am I even doing here, I should just go back to Budapest, it was not a good idea to move here’. But next day I went to work, and then the next day and I am still there after almost 6 months and after a lot of shit but also good days. I was living this new life of mine, working late, partying until the morning, discovering the city. I was living at Szonja’s couch for 2 months, until Ancsi (her flatmate and our good friend) decided to move out, so I took over her room. I got registered, life was definitely moving forward.

It was about the middle of August, when I got an e-mail from Paul ‘Welcome to MDD”. I was like ‘who is Paul and what the hell is MDD? So i read the e-mail, it was about the introduction week and I was trying to recall which university is it. I figured that the school is in the corner of the street I am living, so I kind of decided to start, but this late notice was a bit weird. I went on a tinder date at the end of August, it was not so bad but also not so good, but the guy told me a very important detail: I needed to pay the tuition fee until the end of August. I never got any e-mail about it, so thanks to this random tinder date guy, I’ve paid my tuition fee in time. That is when I got the next e-mail and I quote ‘Dear Fanni, You do not appear to have had an interview yet.  Were you interviewed and sent an offer? Did you send your diplomas to be checked or did you complete a Dutch education even though you are Hungarian. You have paid your fees but nothing else that was needed has been done unless I am missing information.’ So I was questioning myself if I was hallucinating the whole interview and all the documents I uploaded. After a little investigation in my mailbox with thousands messages I figured, that I was NOT hallucinating, which is good, because at least I could convince myself that I am accepted to the university, I just needed to convince Tracy as well.

Plot twist: I did.