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wondernimbus · 4 years

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stressful times — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

request #1: Can I request soft Fred Weasley comforting his girlfriend when she’s not feeling well/on her period and falling behind in classes/ homework? Pretty please 🥺

request #2: Can you write a Fred x reader where the reader is on her period while at Hogwarts during a time when a lot of tests are happening and she needs to be studying but isn’t and Fred notices cause usually she’s like Hermione and always does homework/studies and he figures out why she isn’t and helps her feel better?

a/n: THIS IS WAY OVERDUE IM SORRY but i decided to combine these 2 reqs bc they were pretty similar !!

[Y/N] is stressed.

School has never been a piece of cake for anyone—not even for Hermione Granger, who is one of the brightest people at Hogwarts, and certainly not for her, one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team's Chasers, and on top of that, a prefect currently studying for her N.E.W.Ts.

Wood expects her to practice out by the Quidditch pitch every free period in preparation for the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. This goes for every member of the team—even the ones who, like [Y/N], are studying for the so-called "big exams". And despite [Y/N] wanting to do well in her tests, she also doesn't want to lose her position in the Quidditch team—so she goes to the practice sessions, anyway, even if it's at the cost of her sleep.

That—coupled with her prefect duties and schoolwork—is wearing her out. So far she has managed to miraculously plow through, but when that time of the month comes and she can barely even bring herself to get out of bed, [Y/N] begins to wonder whether giving up would be a better option.

She could do it. Drop everything and lay in bed all day for the next week or so with a bag of chocolates at her side and pillows cushioning her entire body.

She could—technically, anything in the world is possible—but she shouldn’t, because she has obligations. Prefect tasks; patrolling the corridors and making sure no first-years go astray in the Forbidden Forest (it already happened once—she's not going to let it happen again), N.E.W.T. revisions, homework, Quidditch practice, homework, and then even more homework—

The very moment she wakes up and feels the pain in her lower abdomen, she knows she is done for. She only barely drags herself out of bed and trudges to her classes the entire day feeling like pure and utter dung. Her entire body is sore and her entire mood cranky, but that hardly matters because she has homework to do. And classes to go to. And Quidditch practice and patrolling and studying and Merlin-knows-what-else.

The sourness of her mood doesn't go amiss by any of her friends, and certainly not by her boyfriend, Fred Weasley, who automatically just knows when something is out of the ordinary with her. And while her friends decide to leave her alone after noting her less than pleasant mood, Fred does quite the opposite.

Which is, of course, no different from what he does everyday: stick by her side like glue. And while they'd been best friends for a while, it's only been a few months since Fred finally sucked up the courage to ask her out. So naturally Fred has very little experience with, ah, women’s dilemmas.

To put it simply, he doesn't know how to deal with a girl on her bloody (no pun intended) period. For the love of Merlin, he can't even tell.

So he's a little surprised and his feelings are a teeny bit hurt when he nudges her in the middle of Charms class and whispers, "Was that an earthquake? Or did you just rock my world?" only for her to shake her head without even as much as looking at him.

And so Fred's thought process goes like this: he's done something terribly wrong. He doesn't know what, but he must have, and now he has to make up for it—whatever it is.

First, though, he has to figure out what.

—

It's midnight. [Y/N] doesn't know how on earth she managed to get through the entire day without passing out, but she did and now here she is in the nearly empty common room, sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace with several sheets of parchment and open textbooks splayed out before her.

Jotting down History of Magic notes, her face is scrunched up in the utmost concentration. Fred watches her from where he's sitting on the couch, pouting a little.

"Don't you think you should be resting by now?" tries Fred, the concern in his voice audible as his gaze darts from her to her homework.

She doesn't respond. Fred sighs and gets up off the couch to sit down next to her on the ground. But even then, she doesn't look up from her homework, so Fred takes matters into his own hands and reaches out with his hand to gently cup her cheek, trying to tilt her head towards him.

"Not now, Fred.." she mutters, leaning away from him a little to keep writing. His hand hovers in mid-air, fingers now just barely brushing her face as she's moved away. "I have to.. finish this.."

Her tongue is poking out in concentration as she almost feverishly moves her quill over paper. Fred tries not to feel too dejected and lets her be, waiting until she's broken out of her trance enough to grab her attention again. In the meantime, he props his elbows on his knees, the pout on his lips very much evident as he watches her work. He still doesn't know why she's been acting so distant, and no matter how much he tries to mull things over in his brain, he still doesn't know why exactly she's angry at him. Or if she even is angry.

Was his pick-up line really that bad? Could it maybe be because he'd kept trying to play with her hair in potions class the other day? Or is it because of what he did last week, when he’d talked McGonagall’s ear off about how wonderful a girlfriend he had? Maybe Fred should've been a bit more considerate—[Y/N] has always been a teacher's pet, after all, and he knows that the teachers themselves were surprised when they found out that she was dating him, one-half of the devious Weasley twins who had six O.W.L.s combined..

[Y/N]'s hand stills, and for a moment Fred thinks she's finally finished her homework, but her shoulders have bowed a little and her eyes have closed. The effect this image has on Fred is instantaneous: the pout on his lips is replaced quickly by a fond smile as he lets out a quick breath of slightly dubious laughter and moves to gently tap her on the shoulder.

Slowly, slowly, her eyes blink open.

Another tiny laugh. "You fell asleep for a second there, love," says Fred softly, hand moving to touch her hair, and he's so bloody endeared by her it hurts. Voice a mere mumble like he’s afraid of speaking too loud, he says, "Reckon we should turn in for the night, yeah? You and me both."

There's silence as she exhales, leaning into his touch almost unconsciously as her eyes close and her shoulders slump. "I'm really tired," she tells him quietly, nose wrinkling a little as her mouth stretches open in a yawn. (Good grief, Fred's heart aches.) He scoots forward a little into her, gathering her into his lap where she almost automatically curls up, head on his shoulder and her lips just barely grazing the side of his neck.

Fred can't even remember what he'd been agonizing over just moments before. All his fluttering heart cares about at the moment is his sleepy girlfriend, who's shifting a little in his lap to get herself more comfortable, mumbling something inaudible in her half-asleep state. He has to physically suppress himself from throwing his head back and laughing out loud, because something about the situation he's in is making him feel oddly euphoric. He only has to think about if for a few moments before he realizes why: it's because of how adorable she's being. And Fred’s heart might be melting in his chest—should he be concerned?

"I'm gonna carry you up to your dorm, okay?" says Fred, tone just loud enough to make himself heard but quiet and soft enough so as to not jar her awake. He feels her nod a little against his shoulder. Carefully, he gets to his feet, one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back the way a groom would carry his bride. (The thought crosses Fred's head very briefly and just like that he's smiling goofily to himself.)

And the moment is romantic and intimate in a quiet, calming way, until Fred makes the big mistake of murmuring, "I'll fix up your homework and bring it to you so you can work on it tomorrow" and [Y/N] quite literally freezes in his arms. Her entire body goes rigid.

"Homework. Oh, crap." Fully awake now, she lifts her head off of his shoulder, looks back at her pile of homework still on the ground, and then, her panicked eyes meeting his, she says, "Oh, no. No. I can't—I've got to get it done now, Fred."

An incredulous sound tumbles past his lips. "I could've sworn you were asleep two seconds ago.”

She sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds before peeling them open again. Fred notes that the bags under them look even more pronounced up close; something that has him frowning at her. “Put me down, please? I really have to get that essay done."

He huffs, shakes his head, and starts walking towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. "What—" [Y/N] yelps, looking up at him with an expression that suggests he’s admitted to strangling a rabbit. "Fred, I said put me down—"

"And let you work yourself to death? No can do, love." Fred looks down at her, lips pressed together in a sorry smile as he shakes his head. He lifts his gaze back away from her as he begins climbing up the steps, trying not to jostle [Y/N] too much in his arms. His tone sing-song, he says, “You need to rest. The essay can wait."

[Y/N] opens her mouth to predictably retaliate, but Fred stops halfway up the staircase and presses a kiss to her lips, effectively cutting her off. At first she’s stiff, but it only takes her a few seconds to relax and melt into him.

When Fred pulls away with one last peck to the lips, he smiles down at her, eyes twinkling. “Have I changed your mind with my superior snogging skills?”

Unable to help herself, she lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. But even then her gaze lingers on her homework, still on the floor in front of the fireplace—totally not yet finished—

“But I’ve only got a few pages left to go,” she says in one last stroke of adamancy.

”And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you stay up all night without getting enough sleep?” They’ve reached the top of the staircase now, and Fred is fumbling with the doorknob of her dorm room, trying to open it with one hand without having to set her down.

“But Freddy.”

Fred pauses trying to open the door, lips unconsciously twitching up into an incredulous grin as he raises his eyebrows at her. Of course she had to use his one big weakness against him—he loves when she calls him Freddy. Or perhaps love is a severe understatement, because he always goes all putty in her hands whenever she sings it into his ear or shouts it at him from all the way across the hallways.

But Fred isn’t having it, not this time. “But [Y/N],” he mimics her tone, still grinning, and the voice in his heart tells him to peck her lips again, so he does. “I'm telling you, love, you need sleep. And besides, we’re already here—once I get this door open—aha!”

The door clicks open and reveals behind it the dark seventh year girls’ dorm room. Fred peers inside, unsure as he steps a single hesitant foot through the door, and then he withdraws back into the landing. “Suppose I'll have to drop you off here,” tuts Fred. “Can’t really barge into an all-girls dorm room in the middle of the night—even when I’m with you. Mum would have my head.” Gingerly, he sets her down on the ground, making sure she’s standing up completely before he takes his hands away. Grinning, he holds his palm out towards her and says, “That’ll be twenty galleons.”

”I didn’t even ask for—“

“A kiss, then.”

And her incomplete homework is still lingering in her head, bothering her—she really does need to have that done at least before breakfast tomorrow—but Fred is standing in front of her with the same playful smile that [Y/N] has never learned to resist so she sighs and stands on her tip-toes, places her hand on the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss.

Fred is smiling—she can feel it against her lips. Eventually she starts smiling too, unable to help herself. When she pulls away, Fred cups her cheeks in his hand and pecks her forehead—and then her nose, and her cheeks, and her eyelids, and then she’s laughing, saying, “What are you doing?”

Fred lands another kiss to the tip of her nose, then drops his hands back to his sides. “You look far too lovely for someone in dire need of sleep.”

At the mention of sleep, a yawn tears its way out of her throat. Fred has to restrain himself from doubling over and sobbing because Merlin’s beard was that adorable.

”Fine,” [Y/N] says through yet another yawn, hand coming up to rub at her eyes. “Fine. Maybe I am tired.”

Fred gasps far too dramatically. “Who ever could have guessed?”

[Y/N] may be sleepy, but she still has enough strength within her to reach out and shove him lightly by the shoulder. Fred is as theatrical as always; he clutches the spot where she’d touched him as though he’s been fatally wounded.

She rolls her eyes, smiling. Another yawn. Fred drops his act and shoves his hands into his pockets, expression somber as he looks at her, eyes dancing over her own tired ones. “Go get some sleep, alright?”

She purses her lips, shoulders slumping in defeat as she nods. “Okay. Suppose I’ll just try to finish it as fast as I can tomorrow.” And then, voice going soft, she says, “Thanks, Fred.”

Fred is so goddamned endeared.

“And. Um.”

”Yes?”

“Sorry about being so bloody cranky. I'm—“ she pauses, eyes darting away for a moment as she gestures wildly to nothing in particular.

Fred raises his eyebrows.

“On my period,” she mutters. “Have I made it awkward? I'm sorry. I just didn’t want you to think you’d done something wrong for me to be acting.. you know.”

Fred’s brows have risen so far up his forehead he’s surprised they haven’t disappeared into his hair. His mouth has fallen open a little in surprise; whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it certainly hadn’t been that. But part of him is relieved at the knowledge that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting like someone pissed in your tea,” says Fred teasingly. She rolls her eyes again—another yawn; the largest one so far, actually. He can’t help the fond laugh that tears its way out of his heart and past his lips. Reaching out, he places a hand on the back of her head and kisses her forehead. “Sweet dreams, love.”

She wraps her arms around his middle and nods into his chest, and Fred’s heart melts. “You too, Freddy.”

—

The next morning, [Y/N] wakes up to a mysteriously completed set of History of Magic homework and a bag of Honeydukes' chocolates on her bedside table.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley oneshots #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #weasley twins

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accioxreparo · 4 years

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ahh!! i've just read your surprises kisses w fred weasley, as well as neck kisses w george and i loved them both!! they're so well written!! would i be able to request first kisses with fred weasley?? thank you so much xx !! have a good day!!

Oh my god thank you so much 😭💖 This ended up being a little longer than drabble length but I was living for the mutual pining lol. Hope you like it!

~~~~~~

You and Fred were complicated, to say the least. The two of you were a lot alike in the sense that you were both great at not acknowledging the mutual attraction between you.

For quite a while now you’d been very obviously flirting with each other. Stealing glances while the other wasn’t looking, touches that lasted just a little bit too long, smirks and winks sent across the room to each other, suggestive comments being traded back and forth if you were brave enough that day.

Frankly, everyone else had had enough of the two of you dancing around each other so they took matters into their own hands. One ruse led to another and you supposed that was how you found yourself in Fred’s room late one night.

None of your friends had disturbed you in the past few hours and you were sure that was on purpose. You were supposed to be helping him with a Herbology essay but instead, your textbooks sat abandoned on the floor.

The two of you were on his bed, you practically on his lap leaning comfortably against him, a pile of candy from Honeydukes at your side, and talking about the quidditch match that’d be happening the next day.

“Seriously though,” You laughed and then immediately yawned afterward. “Oliver Wood needs to calm down. For Merlin’s sake, he had you guys practicing in the rain the other day. Say the word and I’ll tell him off for you.”

“I’ll remember that for next time he keeps us out on the pitch until curfew,” Fred grinned as he pulled you closer to him, leaning his head against yours. “Wood won’t stand a chance against you, love.”

“Good answer,” You hummed as you made yourself more comfortable, feeling your eyes start to grow heavy.

“So speaking of the game tomorrow,” Fred noticed how tired you were and he reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, trying to move as little as possible so he didn’t disturb you. “You’re going right?”

“I don’t know,” As if on cue you yawned again before turning your head up so you were looking at Fred. “I’ve barely slept all week with all the work we’ve been assigned. I was kind of hoping to catch up on some sleep.”

“What if I told you that you being at the game would encourage me to play better?” Fred winked in your direction and grinned when you gave a soft laugh.

You shook your head a little, a faint smile on your face. “I’d tell you to get your priorities straight.”

“I’ll have you know my priorities are very much in order,” Fred gave a firm nod before beaming down at you. “You, the most amazing person I’ve ever met, will always come before some quidditch match.”

It wasn’t until the words left his mouth that he thought maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say judging by your reaction. You looked away from him abruptly and started playing with the edge of the blanket, brows furrowed as you seemingly contemplated what he’d just said.

Slowly he reached forward, prying the blanket out of your hands and instead held them in his own, making you look at him once more. Finally, he dared to ask what was on his mind. “Why do you look so surprised, love?”

“It’s just,” You were at a loss for words. How could you possibly explain to him everything you felt? The brilliant twisting in your stomach every time he held you like he was now. The sheer joy you felt when you were doing something as simple as talking. The way he was present in nearly every single one of your daydreams recently. You didn’t know how to put your thoughts into words so instead, you gave a short laugh and shook your head. “It’s a pretty bold statement coming from you.”

“It’s true, though,” Fred, for what felt like the first time, didn’t know what to say next. He was tempted to tell you everything. How you were the only thing he could focus on at any given time of day. How he longed to be near you when you weren’t beside him. How he loved the moments you shared together just like this one.

That’s when everything became astonishingly clear to him. He had to show you. No more tiptoeing and dancing around feelings that were clearly reciprocated. He was through with pretending those feelings weren’t there.

Slowly a soft grin broke across his face and he gently dropped your hands. He leaned towards you a little and waited for confirmation that what he wanted was also what you wanted. When you reciprocated and started leaning towards him he set one hand on the side of your face, almost trying to make sure it was really happening.

Then when your lips met his own you both knew it was a moment long overdue. Despite that, the first kiss you shared was sweet and gentle and held worlds of emotions. Both of you were grinning like lovestruck fools when you separated, which in a way you supposed you were.

“You mean the world to me. You know that right?” Fred kissed you in between each word, making sure you understood that he was serious.

You laughed a little before relaxing back into him, pulling the blanket up so you were both underneath it. “I do now.”

Fred nodded, now convinced that you did indeed know it. He made a mental note to never stop reminding you of that fact, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he did so. “Good.”

send me a kiss prompt and I’ll write you a drabble

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #my fics

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goodnightyoongi · 4 years

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Yoongi x fem!reader pt4

genre: hurt/comfort/smut

rating: E

word count: 4,5k

summary: In this series, Yoongi and you are childhood friends, and he’s helping you through some issues you’ve been facing lately, while your relationship slowly blossoms into something more.

warnings: implied depression, self-critical thoughts, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral sex) in the later part of this chap. Start and finish are indicated

Can be read standalone, but is part of a chaptered series

Part I: Catalyze

Part II: Flicker

Part III: Rise

“...and yeah, that’s...why I haven’t been keeping up with my schoolwork.”

You finished the sentence with a timid glance at the curly-haired woman on the other side of the desk. Her hands were knitted on top of the table, one of her eyebrows slightly arched. You understood why. Answering the question “so what seems to be the issue here, Miss Y/LN ?” hadn’t been easy, and you were pretty sure it hadn’t made sense, either.

Basically, you had just stuttered some disjointed, vague gibberish about "feeling a little under the weather lately". Aka, nowhere close to the truth. And now, the anxiety was making itself known. In the form of beads of moisture running down your neck, and your hands fidgeting in your lap.

Because you didn’t want to be here. In fact you wanted to be anywhere but here.

But once again, Yoongi had showed himself perfectly able to push you into motion and help get you back on track. Using his steady, encouraging flow of reassurances, and fingers laced into yours as he pulled you with him to your final destination. And now you were here. Squirming uncomfortably in a chair in the university counselors office, and discussing why you had fallen behind on your studies, all entirely against your will if you were honest.

Your eyes wandered over the neat rows of folders on white shelves, the piles of documents on her desk, the sterile academic environment. Run, is what your brain told you. Just get up, walk out, escape this situation – but Yoongi’s hand, inconspicuously resting on your thigh, prevented it.

Because he’d insisted on coming with. And now he sat next to you, like a parent there to discuss his child’s progression. Clad in his usual uniform, black hoodie and snapback pulled far over his forehead, all in order to avoid being recognized. It worked, and you alone had the counselors undivided attention.

“So, if I understand correctly,” she started, pushing her half-moon glasses further up her nose. “You’ve been...feeling ill? That's why you’ve been absent?”

"Uhm...kind of..."

“I see here that you have a lot of overdue assignments...and you haven't attended classes...but it would be best if you book an appointment with the university healthcare, if you have a condition that interferes with your ability to study.”

Your ears heated up as you digested this information. A tiny, sober voice within you told you yes. Do it, open mouth, voice the issue. Another, more overpowering and toxic one told you no. Repeatedly, until it was basically chanting it like a whole firing squad in your brain.

“No, no, I don’t need to. I...uh, I’ll make sure to finish all the assignments, ma'am. Just been feeling a little...unwell, but, yeah. I’m fine.”

You ignored Yoongi’s pointed glare, along with his attempts to kick you in the shin under the desk. Your counselor expressed clear puzzlement over the sudden change in your narrative.

“Oh? But didn’t you say that you’ve been feeling down and experiencing difficulty with keeping up with your studies?”

“Uh...yeah but, it was just a temporary slump,” you lied, and accompanied it with the most convincing smile you could conjure. “I really am fine, and I will catch up on it. Promise.”

“Miss Y/LN...I really do think you should go see the healthcare unit.”

“No need, I’m fine, I’m absolutely –”

“She’s depressed.”

The sharp exclamation draped itself over the three of you, and the office fell silent. You slowly turned to your left, quiet anger flaring in your gut. And Yoongi, the bastard, was wearing a polite smile and blatantly ignoring your burning looks.

The perplexed-looking lady opposite you blinked about a million times in confusion, before clearing her throat.

“Is what your friend is saying true, Miss Y/LN? You've been feeling depressed?”

Your airways were blocked, by what felt like a thick bundle of dry cotton. You didn't get a word out. Yoongi decided to just nod in affirmation on your behalf.

"Yeah, yes, she’s...been down. Not left her apartment much and just slept and not eaten and...I think she needs to see someone.”

“Oh, oh dear...well, that sounds worrying indeed." The lady turned to you with a motherly smile. "I’ll book you an appointment to the healthcare center, Miss Y/LN. They can refer you to a mental health professional if there's a need for that...hold on a moment...”

She started tapping something on her computer, while she kept talking, but you didn’t focus on it much. You were forced to just listen and accept the documents shoved into your hands, with the appointment date and other information. Forced to nod affirmatively when she announced it would be next week.

Not like you were about to go. No way.

Once you were dismissed, you were fuming. You stormed out and over the university grounds, leaving Yoongi and the repeated stream of requests to slow down behind you.

“Y/N, fucking wait – jesus, can you wait!?"

He finally caught you, but you ripped your arm from his grip instantly, backing further away while spitting furious words in his face.

“No, I can’t! Why the hell did you have to tell her that, Yoongi?! You had no right to tell her I’m…”

You came to a screeching halt just as you were about to say it, and gathered yourself. Yoongi regarded you from a distance, his eyes like dark, tranquil oceans as usual.

Always so understanding, always compassionate. Even now when you wanted none of it.

“I’m not depressed. Everything is fine with me.”

You said it with steadfast conviction. Maybe, if you said it enough times, it would become true.

The wind rustled the leaves in the trees around you. It was actually a beautiful day. The warm rays of sunshine heated your back up, and Yoongi’s sympathetic smile was securely in place as always.

“Y/N...I had to. If you get to decide yourself you just dodge your issues and pretend they don't exist for all eternity. I can’t just stand by and witness it anymore, okay? Please just trust me. Everything isn’t fine with you.”

“Yeah it is,” you interjected stubbornly. You shook your head, shook it until nausea hit you and you just stumbled uselessly when trying to vocalize what you felt.

“It is, and I don’t want to go...it makes me feel sick. I don’t want to talk about it...I don’t want to be the person who has something wrong with them, Yoongi...I want to be normal.”

Your voice was suddenly saturated with hysteria and tears, and Yoongi was on you in an instant. Picking you up, just like he always did, collecting the pieces and patching you up again. You sobbed into his hoodie, and asked him, over and over again, why it was so hard.

“It’ll get easier,” Yoongi promised. He hugged you as you cried, while a warm breeze blew past and gently ruffled your hair and dried your cheeks. “It will. But not until you face it, hun.”

During the next few days, you spent a lot of time hunched over your laptop. Slogging your way through email after email, and doing your best to figure out exactly how far behind you were in your studies.

Really damn far turned out to be the answer.

You did his best to fix that, finishing up half-written essays and projects collecting dust on your hard drive until you were close to crying from the effort. All of this happened while Yoongi sat next to you, peering over your shoulder and making sure the process was moving forward. But it left you exhausted, and the list of assignments was mile-long.

“I’ll never have energy to finish all this...might as well drop out,” you whined, face buried in your hands, multiple times when it all felt too overwhelming. But Yoongi wasn't about to just accept that. Of course he wasn't.

“Nope, you sure as hell won’t,” was his stern reply to that. He was like an impenetrable wall you couldn't bulldoze your way through, and so you remained in front of the laptop, while his hawk eyes made sure your attention stayed on the screen.

Annoying. It was, but you had to admit it was effective. After many cups of espresso and bordering-on-meltdowns the list gradually shortened, and you were left slightly less stressed. But you’d transformed into a wet rag at the end of it, a wet rag that Yoongi transported to the couch and kissed and hugged and showered with compliments about how you were doing so well.

And it felt good, admittedly. Even though he must be lying through his teeth. His arms wrapped around you also felt great, and his gentle kisses made you all tingly – but that was the problem. He was too gentle. Too soft, like you were some kind of fragile flower to be handled with care.

Yet another week had passed since your almost-steamy-encounter on Yoongi’s couch. Another week’s worth of wet daydreams, of imagining the two of you in scenarios that stretched so much further than just kissing. Another week’s worth of not daring to make the first move.

Because without alcohol flowing through you, you remained much too shy and insecure, even though he was your boyfriend now.

The desire you felt for him made your blood pump faster, made your lower regions heat up. Every time Yoongi held you, every time he sat next to you with his elbows leaning on the table. Because you just wanted so badly for those veiny hands to undress you. To wrap around you. To travel further down and envelop you, all of you.

But at the same time, you were scared when imagining it.

Maybe Yoongi’s vision of you wouldn’t match the reality, the you hidden underneath the oversized sweaters and baggy sweatpants you’d worn for the past week. Maybe he would just see what you saw in the mirror.

Someone a little too gray and washed out, who didn’t get nearly enough sun and who lacked that rosy, healthy glow on their cheeks.

Maybe Yoongi’s feelings would even cool once he saw your body. Despite all the things he’d said for the past weeks about how you were gorgeous and beautiful and perfect.

The thought brought you close to tears.

You just felt like an illusion, about to crumble anytime now.

All of this messed things up, and soon you found yourself in bed. At 5PM on a Saturday evening. And all of Yoongi’s messages sat in your phone, unread and ignored since a good 24 hours.

You were pushing him away again, and it was just a matter of time until the doorbell would ring.

It did, like an ominous church bell ordering you to return to the land of the living. And you dragged yourself over the same damn floor, towards the same damn door, mentally preparing for yet another lecture by the same person you’d let down, again.

“Hey there, bun,” Yoongi greeted casually, leaning against the wall in the corridor when the door slid open. “What’s up? Ignoring my messages again?”

“Yes,” you confirmed dully. Unnecessary to pretend otherwise, and you were aware how wantonly snappy you sounded. Yoongi took absolutely zero notice of it. He looked stunning as ever, the dark hair slightly tousled by the wind and hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

Hands that still hadn’t touched you where you wanted them to and when would they?

You slammed the door with unnecessary force after Yoongi strode past you, causing him to turn around in surprise.

“Woah? Easy with that. Bad mood huh? Look kinda rough.”

“Yeah. I always look kinda rough, if you haven't noticed.”

“Hold it right there. Don’t twist it into something it’s not. I just meant you look a little tired.”

He gave you a sharp glance, a warning that clearly told you "don't even try to argue". You yielded, heaving unhappily.

“I’m sorry. I just...I wasn’t feeling well, and everything just felt shit, and...I couldn’t get out of it”

“Uhuh...that’s...kinda why you need some help, sweetie.”

“I don’t need help.”

You tried, but it was weak at this point. Yoongi closed in on you, raising a hand to cradle your cheek and sneaking the other one around the small of your back.

“Sorry to slap you with uncomfortable truths, but...yeah, you do. And I understand that your mood shifts and you want to be alone sometimes...but please don’t ignore my texts. You're making me sick with worry when you don't answer. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, baby. So did you shower today?”

“No.”

“Eat?”

“No.”

“Y/N...that’s no good." He trapped you in a kiss, before separating you and giving you another look that left no room for arguing. "Come on. Go get showered or changed and whatever you need and let’s head to the shop.”

You huffed, turned and stomped off to your bedroom without a word.

Getting changed and going outdoors didn’t feel tempting at all. You dug through your closet, but once again there was nothing of use, because once again you'd failed to do the laundry. Because you’d been nestled in bed instead. And crawling into it again felt like a splendid idea now.

"How's it going over here?"

Yoongi had made an appearance in the doorway. He raised a critical eyebrow, skeptically eyeing the pajama shorts and coffee-stained t-shirt you were still wearing. You just stared blankly ahead, cross legged on the bed and not about to move another inch if you could avoid it.

"Badly. Have nothing to wear and I'm hideous."

You knew how that sounded, oh you knew. But you could do absolutely zilch to prevent it. Yoongi closed the distance between you, his gaze oddly dark, like a looming thunderstorm.

"Stop saying those things about yourself."

You bounced up, gurgling with unidentified frustration you just couldn’t seem to kick.

"No. Because it's true."

“It's really not. I understand it feels true to you. But you’re stuck with these ideas about yourself, because you’re seeing everything through a skewed lens. That makes you overly critical of yourself. Understand, baby?”

“Nope. You’re fucking wrong.”

Yoongi's finger on your mouth silenced you. He was right in front of you now, and he leaned in until his lips brushed over your ear.

"You're not hideous. Get that through your thick skull."

And then he pulled back, and kissed you. And it wasn't gentle. In fact it was everything but gentle. It was demanding, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and his fingers weaving themselves into your hair and his nails scraping over your scalp.

When you finally parted, your body was already in overdrive, your pulse crashing through your veins and your lower regions practically on fire and thumping almost painfully.

"Think it's about time I touched you, huh,” Yoongi pondered, eyes half-lidded and with his finger pressed down on your lower lip.

You just swallowed, whining something that sounded like "uhuh" in response. Yoongi's hands were all over you in an instant. He swung you around with your back facing him, and moved your hair out of the way so he could press feather light kisses down the junction of your neck. You were lost, to the unexpected shivers worming all over your skin, lost until you heard a request that made your knees weak.

"Is it okay if I take off your clothes?"

"Ye– yeah," you managed, without really thinking. There was just a split second of self-consciousness, and then your shirt was pulled over your head, your shorts hiked down – and you were bare, save for your underwear. You went rigid for a second, shielding yourself, but Yoongi untangled you quickly.

"Nah, none of that. Don’t do that. Let me see you."

He looped his own arms around your waist, and sprinkled kisses all over your exposed skin – your shoulders, your jawline, everywhere he could reach. And then, he spun both of you around. Facing the full length mirror, the one you’d been about to throw out so many times now.

"Look at yourself."

You looked. And looked away the next second. You saw yourself, the body you hadn’t studied for a while. You saw your skin illuminated by the lamplight, showing every little imperfection in unforgiving technicolor. And you saw Yoongi's toned arms blanketing you.

"Yeah, I'm looking. What's there to see? I'm, just...whatever. Just...meh."

"No. Not meh. Everything but meh. Stubborn, a little bratty, but definitely not meh."

He forked fingers into your hair, yanking you back to stress the fact.

"Or ugly. Or useless Or anything negative you want to imagine. I know you don’t see it yourself, but trust me, then. Can you do that?"

“Maybe.”

^^^^^^^^

You couldn’t, still – but you were coming undone, basically unable to speak, unable to do anything but succumb to Yoongi's voice and touch and tongue leaving goosebumps all over your skin.

Your breaths picked up as he unhooked your bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the side. You let out a pitchy whimper and dropped your gaze as he cupped your breasts. One by one, gently caressing them and rolling the pink buds between his fingers.

“Beautiful. Beautiful and mine,” he whispered into your hair.

He kept one hand loosely around your throat, while the other traveled down your spine – down, down down and all the way down. There, he gathered one of your asscheeks into his hand, squeezing possessively and pressing his own, very blatant boner against your ass.

“This too,” he purred cheekily, a little louder, and slapped it once, very lightly.

And you choked.

Well, nearly. Choked on the feeling of the pulsating, warm and very real body pushed up against you. It infused you with a craving that practically hurt, and you gasped in surprise when Yoongi’s hand snaked its way to your front, sliding down to part your thighs. He nibbled on your neck, while his fingers found your clit, lightly brushing over it and drawing moan after bated moan from you.

"You're hot, okay. I love your face, I love your body, I love your personality, you’re gorgeous and don't ever doubt that." Yoongi murmured, while stroking you through your underwear and holding you steady with his free hand. "I've wanted to fuck you for ages."

Oh shit. Okay. All you could do was whimper needily in response. The sinful confessions into your ear made your head spin violently – and that voice. Surely couldn’t belong to Yoongi – it was too husky, just oozing dominance – but it did. It did and it seeped right into every corner of you, into every cell of your body all the way into your fingertips and not least, your crotch.

And you felt like you might suffocate from the pressure. From Yoongi's fingers rubbing teasing circles all over you, his breath hot and wet against the nape of your neck.

"I want to see you too,” you whined, wrenching yourself loose and pawing desperately at his t-shirt.

"Sure thing, baby.”

You held your breath while his clothes were discarded. Shirt, jeans, briefs, and then he stood there, stripped in front of you. Not just a smudgy almost-Yoongi in one of your vivid dreams, but the real Yoongi. With a heinous twinkle playing in his mischievous eyes, his posture self-assured and his dick half-hard and smooth and...actually a little menacingly thick in girth.

You swallowed down the nervously flapping butterflies, and stepped forward, tentatively running hands all down his pale chest and around his back and his ass and absolutely everywhere.

You’d imagined this man naked so many times. All throughout your adolescence, and now that it finally happened, it felt like some trippy dream.

"God, you’re fucking...beautiful, Yoongi.”

"Says you.”

He grabbed you, kissing you and pressing the two of you together, with his hands firmly on your ass. And you heated up to scorching temperatures, while your brain was filled with only one thought.

“I want you.”

“Want you too. But we’re taking it slow.”

You grumbled, but he just briefly let his finger travel into your mouth, and smirked in response when you sucked on it like it was a lollipop. Then, you were hauled up and lowered onto the bed on your back, and turned into a shivering, whimpering wreck of a person. Yoongi kissed you, pushing his tongue in to drag it over the roof of your mouth, and continuing down your torso, your chest, your tummy until you shivered pleasantly underneath him.

He mumbled little words of praise at you while he went, and your breath came out shorter and shorter the further down he traveled. Soon he had to tell you to remember to even breathe.

“Relax. You’re so pretty, been wanting you for so long.”

He parted your legs gently, wrapping his hand around your thigh and sucking teasing love bites into the sensitive skin until you were almost crying from the sensation.

“Want me to touch you, baby? Can I take these off?”

You curled your spine against the sheets, desperate for him to just do it already. “Yeah – yeah. Please.”

"Good. Cause I'm really dying to."

Your panties slid off, finally, and Yoongi crawled between your legs, blinking up at you, dark eyes clouded with lust and tousled bangs falling into his forehead. All of you was practically vibrating, filled with electricity sprouting underneath the tips of his fingers as he rested one hand on your tummy and settled the other one between your legs.

“Look at you...already so wet for me.” He spread you with a thumb, sliding it between your lips, and you whined in response. Not like he was wrong. You’d basically been soaking wet since that first kiss. “So pretty. I want to make you feel good, hun. Can I eat you out? Do you want that?”

You nodded frantically. You could feel your release literally around the corner, and whatever Yoongi was about to do to you would lure it out at record speed. He offered you one of his gummy grins, gripping your thighs with both hands for leverage and pushed his pink tongue out, dragging it all over your clit and making you cringe against the sheets.

“God – Yoongi, holy shit-”

“You taste good. Fucking sexy as hell.”

You didn’t care about restraining yourself anymore. You allowed yourself to moan unabashedly while he sucked on your clit, and tantalized you by pushing his tongue into you and pulling it out the next second.

You hadn't been touched for so long, you hadn't come for so long . An eternity. And now you watched, eyes feverish, as Yoongi turned you into a slobbering mess in minutes. Your orgasm was close, and Yoongi must have felt it, because he quickly pulled back, lips glistening and cheeks flushed.

Next you felt his fingers teasing your entrance, and he threw you a quick, questioning glance and asked, voice hushed and dripping with lust, if it was okay. You hurried to nod again, crying out when he pushed a finger into you, slowly gliding over your walls and filling you up, while his thumb rubbed against your clit. Settling on his knees, he threw one of your legs up and squeezed your thigh as he started finger-fucking you, slowly but surely.

You couldn’t help but wonder, amidst all the hazy pleasure, how the hell he was that skilled with his hands.

Probably because he was experienced. You knew he’d had kind-of-girlfriends, but maybe he'd even had multiple partners. That thought made you irrationally jealous, once again, and also worried you’d appear like a rookie in comparison.

But those thoughts were quickly washed away, for now, as Yoongi hit the spot again, and a pitchy whimper escaped you, echoing through the whole bedroom.

“You’re tight,” he hummed, gaze heavy on you. “How’s that? Feels good?”

“Y– yeah...feels great…”

Your neck cringed, your hands gripping the sheets as he picked up the pace, before adding a second finger. Soon he had two of them knuckle-deep in you, fucking you while working your clit while you squirmed against him to create even more friction. You watched him, his lustful dark eyes plastered on you, the veins in his arms tensing as he brought you closer and closer.

"Yoongi...I'm gonna...c-come...if you keep doing that–"

"Well that's the goal, right? You're moaning so prettily, turning me wild," Yoongi teased, leaning forward. He positioned himself half-laying on top of you, so he was able to reach your quivering lips while his fingers slid in and out of you.

He kissed you hungrily, and you could feel his cock poking you in the side. You glanced down. There it was, all stiff and veiny and fully erect and – damn.

Yoongi wanted to fuck you with that.

You pictured it, and then you were done for.

"Coming?"

"Uhuh..."

"Go on, baby girl.”

Well. That did it. You shuddered your way through your release, spasming against Yoongi’s fingers and crying out a lewd and elongated “fuck” as you came. You faintly heard Yoongi mumbling something as you rode it out, and then you collapsed into the mattress. Completely drained, and with your chest heaving and droplets of sweat running down your neck.

^^^^^^^^

Yoongi pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and withdrew his hand. "You okay, pumpkin?"

You nodded wordlessly, slow waves of pleasure still rippling through you. Yoongi sneaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against himself and squeezing you tightly.

"See why I wanted to take it slow now? Yikes...you look like you just finished a marathon. Didn't take you very long.”

He nuzzled into your hair, and you weren’t even able to provide anything coherent in response yet. Soon he announced he was taking you to shower, and before you could protest you’d been scooped up and carried off, bridal-style.

The shower was turned on, and you were dazed when jostled into position underneath the spray of water. It splashed down between the two of you, heating you up as you rested your head against Yoongi’s chest, just enjoying the warmth and being so close to him for now.

He pushed strands of soaked hair out of your forehead, and propped you up more securely when you were in danger of sagging to the floor. "Are you alright, sweetness?”

“Yeah...sorry, it’s been a while since I, uh…was...touched...”

You quietened, bashfully pushing your nose against his chest again to avoid meeting his eyes. He gave a little chuckle, and ran his hands all over your back in reassuring circles.

“Yeah, I figured. That’s okay. Just take it easy, baby. I’ll take care of you, don't worry.”

Yoongi gathered you into his arms, and your throbbing muscles were soothed by the flow of hot water. But you also felt a rigid boner poking your thigh, still. Belonging to him.

You peeked down at it. It was a little intimidating, but you were also eager to return the favor. Even though your tummy turned into slush at the thought of doing something wrong.

You swallowed down a lump, and Yoongi noticed your hesitance.

“Y/N. Just relax.”

"You're still hard though, I can –"

"Yeah, duh, I'm hard,” Yoongi chuckled, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips to shut you up. “...cause that was hot,” he added, and your cheeks instantly turned tomato-red.

"But we got all the time in the world. I can wait. You're the most important, bun."

"Fine, ugh...okay."

You burrowed into his chest, letting out a soft moan when he squeezed some shampoo out and started massaging it into your scalp. Yep. You could definitely see yourself getting used to this.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts self insert #min yoongi #bts fluff #bts angst #bts romance #bts au #bts reader insert #yoongi scenarios #bts si #bts x reader

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lockdownuk · 4 years

Text

Lockdown Diary Part 3

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 61: Writing this in the afternoon on day 62. An exercise driven day. Two walks and stair climb as usual plus I popped round Jeff’s early evening. First time I’ve been to his house, 1 Garden Row, Elmington. It’s further than I thought so, with walking there an back, I managed a daily total of 14km. It was good to see him and have a social (but social-distanced) beer. When I got home, @9:45pm, I made thai green chicken curry, watch The Report (a great, if worrying film) and then TikTok-ed until gone 5am!

Day 62: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Missed Sam’s quiz.

Day 63: Typing this on day 64! Beer round Karen’s. Again! Well, it is bank holiday Monday! Had dirty pizza for tea and watched The Heat. Again! It is the most piss funny film.

Day 64: Well, I have been feeling guilty about treatung the bank holiday w/e l;ike a bank holiday w/e. It’s dawned on me that that guilt is way too self-disiciplned. I got up about midday, usual two walks and stair climb but that’s it. I need to clean the house from top to bottom, get on top of my online courses, get the garden done, get the car fixed, go shopping…fucking hell - if only I had the time…

Day 65: Today I swapped Amazon prime free trial for about the 5th time in my life. Same card and address - will they get wind of my skullduggery. This is all so I can finish watching Hunters and catch Homecoming S2. I went shopping at Asda near Raunds. I wish I hadn’t, it’s no good for a comprehensive shop. Received an email from RCI inviting me to a Zoom meeting with Pal Mulcahy for a business update. I fear the worst. And it’s at 10:00am, FFS!

Day 66: Logged in an attended zoom forum with Paul Mulcahy and over 250 RCI staff this morning. The message was that there is going to be redundancies. I expected this and expected to fall victim. All staff that are going to be put through cionsultation would be contacted today. I however wasn’t! Very, very surpised. meanwhile, Nick Reilly asked to connect via LinkedIn (including become a LinkedIn staff team member - that’s new to me so I’ll see what it is but I accepted the invitation) Later, I WhatsApp-ed him and asked who has been affected from IT. All he could tell me was no one on Jon Rodger’s team is under threat. Also, Mark C emailed - I’ll respond tomorrow. I got up at 09:00ish and had my mornming walk before the 10:00am meeting. I am now, at 09:30pm, fucking knackered. Dinner and then bed, methinks but not before one more episdoe of Hunters!

Day 67: Typing on Day 68. Got pretty drunk last night. I’ve got blisters from walking (new boots) so I don’t think I’ll walk tomorrow (well, today!).

Day 68: I did fuck all today. Got up after 1pm, no walking. I did manage to clean the bathroom (and smash my little mirror) and do my 26 stair climb. I am typing at 9pm and I feel whacked!

Day 69: I have an abscess. It’s not too painful (today) but I am going to call the dentist tomorrow (Monday). I think antibiotics are in order. I watched a film, which I actually started yesterday, called The Voices starring Ryan Reynolds, Gemma Arteton and Anna Kendrick. Fuuuuuuuuuuuucking weird. The closing credits are the most bizarre, in context, I’ve ever seen. But, in general, a very good film. Back to normal exercise regime today plus hovered the hall and stairs. Get me. It’ll be interetingh to see my Google Fit figures for May tomorrow.

Day 70: Contacted the dentist who advised salt water rinsing and ibuprofen. But, tbf, it’s a lot better today and the swelling has gone right down. The dentist I called was the Oundle House (Rodericks) one. I was not hopeful since last time I saw them they referred me to their Northampton clinic for root canal work which was quoted at over £600. However, the dentist was very nice, had my x-ray to hand from that last visit and seemed more interested in making sure I’m OK than gaining a paying customer. He still wants to see me when possible though! I must mention the weather. It has been glorious weather nearly every day throughout May (it’s June 1st today). Seriously sunny and like a holiday every day. The news mentioned it today - the level of sunshine throughout the transition from spring to summer is unprecedented, apparently. My T shirt tan is, quite frankly, ridiculous!

Day 71: Today’s ‘must mention’ is what’s going on in the US and it’s not particularly related to Trump. There was a black man killed while under arrest. George Floyd died Monday 25th May (8 days ago) A policeman, who knelt on his neck for minutes while he complained of not being able to breathe, has been charged with murder. Now there are riots and curfews and military intervention all over the country. It’s similar to the English riots of 2011. It’s worrying, sad, scary and not what the fight against the pandemic needs. Most of all, it’s racism rearing its ugly head yet again. I’ve had a normal-ish day. received an email from Jim checking in, talked to a recruiter about a promising job lead (although the hours are 8-5 which I am not happy about), talked to Barry across the road and sent Barzzy a WhatsApp. And I logged in Shaw Academy and started lesson one of module 2 of web Design. It’s been a while, so long overdue, but I only did about 15 minutes. Must try harder / do better! As I type, late (10:10pm) I have dinner cooking and a strange pain in my left side and am in the middle of No Country for Old Men. Don’t think I’ve seen it since the cinema (13 years!)

Day 72: As soon as (well, within a couple of days) I mention the weather, it turns. It’s rained a little and is a lot cooler (15° rather than mid-20s). Much better for walking, I have to say. I finished Hunters today (Amazon Prime series). While I enjoyed it, it got too surreal at the end. It is loosely based on the real story of Nazi hunters in the US in 1977 but the straying from loosely based to down-right ridiculous fiction annoyed me. If it goes to S2, I will watch it, however. Received some of my rental deposit back today (the law changed so that only 5 weeks rent can be demanded as deposit). Over £600. Nice.

Day 73: I made a short video for Marc and Clare’s 26th wedding anniversary. I ‘dressed up’ for it. I enjoyed doing it and I think it was appreciated.

Day 74: Typing on Day 75 for no other reason than I couldn’t be bothered on day 74! I received a letter either today or the day before (well, yesterday or the previous day!) from Mr Minos at the eye clinic informing me that, while there is some stuff going on in both eyes (garnered from the photo scans done at the last hospital appointment), he wants to see me in three months. Always a refief when that happens. Been getting into two series on Amazon: Alex Rider and Modern Love. One is a male Hanna, the other is soppy affairs of the heart based on real life stories (from essays written in the NY Times). Both enjoyable for totally different reasons.

Day 75: Lazyish day. Well, not really, just that I only went for one walk, alebit 6km andI got pissed on. Wehn the rain hit, it was also fucking freezing! Some of the clouds were stunning today, made for great photos. As I type, it’s 21:12, I’m listening the wonderful Phoebe Bridgiers. Now, I’m gonna make some tea and sup a few ales, I reckon.

Day 76: Done lots of walking today (over 13,000 steps) I made sausage casserole with too much chilli (scotch bonnet and birdeye). I had an online (fb) debate with Sam over whether the George Floyd murder was a racial.

Day 77: Received a new (used) wing mirror for the car. £18 with delivery, I reckon that’s a bargain. I cashed in £20 from Prolific as well, so I’m satisfied at the financial full-circle. Dropped the car off at Barnwell (Nene Valley Body Shop) and walked back - 7km. Just about to dive into tea - finishing the blazing hot sausage casserole from yesterday. Then I’m going to do some more Rubik’s cube practice with my recently acquired GoCube.

Day 78: Lots of daily walking, 26 stair climb, press-up and late nights watching TikTok (gone 3am this morning) are making for a constantly knackered Tim Stubbs. Today I made veg soup and cooked up some meatballs. Both are delish. How did I ever to learn how to conjure up such stuff? The Rubik’s cube learning is coming along except that I need good daylight to distinguish between the yellow and white faces on the flipping thing!

Day 79: Listening to Radio 6 most the day and the news is making for dire listening. Forecast of severe recession, especially if there is a second peak of the virus, which I think there will be. Plus, an offshoot of the George Floyd murder and the #BlackLivesMatter movement, institutions and town councils are being lobbied by campaigners to remove statues of anyone associated with things like slavery (one was toppled in Bristol at the w/e) and rename buildings etc. that were named after historical characters with any links to something that now is deemed wrong or offensive. I agree with it but it’s not pleasant to hear amongst other bleak news. Walked to Barnwell to collect my car - front trim reseated and new wing mirror fitted, £20 - bargain (I source the replacement wing mirror). But, also, forked out £165 on car tax! Cleaned the lounge from top to bottom. Knackering!

Day 80: Chatted with Dad and Rita - he’s pissed off with the slavery backlash but otherwise they are both OK. I saw Baz in the Tesco queue where I mentioned my disgust at the Thursday market being allowed (I found I could not maintain 2m at all times just walking to Tesco’s!) and that I really don’t want to catch Covid19 as I will probably die. Maybe a bit dramatic but he messaged me later today to say he’d been thinking on what I said and offered to shop for me. I replied that I am OK to shop but am scared at how people are taking things so much less seriously than when lockdown started yet the virus is still out there just as it was then! I am very touched at his massage. I thoroughly cleaned the bedroom and changed the bedclothes today. House work really knackers me out!

Day 81: Spare room cleaned today. Not much else to type about. It’s Friday, I making curried mince and I don’t feel like a beer. How I’ve changed!

Day 82: I did have beers last night. Ended up going to bed with daylight and dawn chorus for company. Today, when I woke, gone 1pm, I have been greeted by what can only be described as thoroughly depressing news from every quarter. This includes violence in the capital, further virus outbreak in Beijing. Fog’s political posts on FB make for depressing (but vaild) reading. I’m feeling thoroughly fed up today. Not even music can lift my mood…

…but, I am currently listening to Craig Charles on BBCR6 and, I have to say, he’s putting in quite an exceptional effort - there may be hope that my mood might lift, even at gone 8pm! I might have a beer or two and grab something postivity and enjoyment from the day after all.

Day 83: Another late one last night but up before noon today. Started watching something called Condor on Sky One. It’s OK - there’s stuff I wanna waytch on Amazon Prime but, more often than not, it keeps telling me there’s ‘a problem’ when I try to play anything. Pissing me off. I just checked and I have two weeks of the initial 12 of furlough to go. I shall started asking the questions about what might happen on the Connections website.

Day 84: Typing this on Day 85. On the way back from dropping off some shoes for Sean Davies at his brother’s (martin) I met Karen and she said why not pop round for a beer so I did. Certainly not used to a drink on a Monday so that, and the genral upheaval to my evening, while good fun and a nice change, put pay to my usual diary entry! I sorted Amazon Prime out by leaving the TV turned off for over an hour. Day 85: Tim did the garden today and it looks great. The pipes in the bathroom have been knocking loudly, on and off, for a couple of weeks now. Last night, they were so loud that today I took it upon myself to resolve it or ring Woodfords. So, having turned off the water, run the taps dry to get rid of any trapped air and then turned the water back on slowly, I discoved it’s the cistern and its pipes. Woodfords are arranging Corvee to visit. Meanwhile, leaving the water turned off at least stops the noise which is, otherwise, costant and unbearable! I emailed HR a couple of days ago about what’s happening in a couple of weeks time in terms of furlough when the 12 weeks will be up. Sue Cockimngs got back to me attaching an email Deryn sent on 15th May which I never received. Basically, they’ll extend furlough if need be and an update should be forthcoming late May/early June. Well, that time has passed, so who knows what is going to happen. The furlough scheme (CJRS) has been changed by the govenment, I’ve read, and it looks like any new people would have to have been furloughed by June 10th (it’s the 16th today) so no furlough rotation, which is annoying. The CJRS ends 1st October with employer contributions required from 1st August - that’s D-Day as far as I am concerned….so job hunting will have to step up a notch! Day 86: Pete’s birthday and he bought himself the same speaker as me. When I asked if it lived up to his expectations he mentioned it’s better through WiFi than Bluetooth. That confused me as I haven’t got WiFi available on mine…..long story short, I bought the wrong fucking speaker. I got a AudioPro AddOn T10 instead of C10. To say I am fucked off is an understatement. To think I was so pleased at the cheap price I paid. Now I feel like I have wasted €200. Bollocks.

Day 87: Finished Alex Rider last night. Another series that started off so well and ended a litte weak but, overall, not bad. I’ve started keeping strange meal times…lunch very late (4pm) and dinner really late (11pm). I need to sort it ‘cos it’s playing havoc with my sugar levels. I had a huge hypo while having my second walk today, second day on the trot that’s happened. My late dinner was Chinese chicked curry with a quarter of a scotch bonnet and two birdeye chillies. Delish.

Day 88: I have managed to be bitten yesterday or the day before on one of my walks. There are strange, itchy lumps on my right inner forearm. And I do mean itchy. I trimmed my sideburns today, I was very pissed off with them. My hair looks just a little less shit. I did a shop at Tesco in Corby today. Mainly booze as follows: 20 cans Sam Miguel £18 18 cans Stella £15 20 bottles Bud £10 8 cans Tyskie £9 3 lrg bottles Warsteiner £5 £57 Bargain.

Day 89: Lazy day. One short walk and usual stair climb. Howard and Sue popped round to give me a pressie - bottle of Monkey Shoulder. I’m building up quite a collection of whisky!

Day 90: Dad called and we chatted for an hour or so. I had to apologise for not sending a father’s day card! Dan messaged me and offered to pay for a pizza delivery which I declined.

Football has started again this past week…Prem and Championship only. L1 and L2 season was cut short and Posh missed out on the play-offs by one place. As I type, Everton v Liverpool is on Sky Sports on a Sunday evening - it’s very strange with no crowd. There’s crowd noise being played thorugh the tannoy.

#Diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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johnnq · 5 years

Text

Study Hour: Johnny x Reader (Chapter 1 of ??)

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: none (for now, I have no idea if this’ll take an angsty or smutty turn, so you’re all safe for now ;) haha)

Summary: Johnny is a badboy, and more importantly; probably far too adventurous to be even slightly interested in you, the girl that everyone wants as a friend but never anything more unless it’s strictly ‘no strings attached’ because you’re far too overbearing for your own good, and everyone else’s. After a chance encounter in a library of all places, the race against time before he changes his mind about you is on, but the question is, when’s the deadline?

It all started on a Wednesday afternoon during a day that had surely exhausted you; the foundations of the thing that would forever plague you, keep you pleading for more and have you second guessing yourself enough to last a lifetime.

One thing you knew for certain about anything that day while looking at your blank computer screen with only the title to your overdue literature essay, was that you sure as hell wished you hadn't waited this long to finish the work you needed to do.

To you, studying wasn't top priority - at least as of lately. You'd been too heavily weighed down by family problems and external stresses that plagued you to focus on your dream of becoming a writer, abandoning the hobby and future career you so desperately craved and worked for from around as long as you'd been able to walk, and instead replaced it with days on end of balancing adult life far before you were ready or willing to start doing it.

Your mother was an alcoholic to put it bluntly, and caused you endless strife throughout the years. Since the age of fifteen when your father passed away from a rapid and agonising battle with cancer, she'd gone from being his carer, wife and a mother with the father of her child to help her raise her teenage daughter, to a widower, a single mother and a woman of many financial worries. When the bills started piling up and she had no way to keep them all paid, she went to any length to find the money.

That's when she started with drinking the occasional martini during the day, and eventually escalating to the point of being completely intoxicated by the mid afternoon. Truthfully, she'd never been the same, not even since the first day after you were told he had passed. Turning to a bottle and a terrible night of sleep on the couch instead of talking about it became the norm, and the more you both stopped talking about it, the more she decided to drink to numb the feeling. She often prioritised alcohol or anything like that over you, and would let you down more often than she would fulfill her promises. But nonetheless you were always there to pick up the pieces when she made a mess of things.

Over the last few weeks she'd been particularly careless, going missing for days on end after drunken nights out, leaving you to run a house on your own at the age of nineteen. Nothing unusual for you, having to hold the fort for a day or two, but after four days you really started to wonder if you should of been more worried. Bills, cleaning, taking care of the dogs you owned, going food shopping, and keeping things afloat were all you could care about for nearly a month all at once with your mother occasionally showing up and leaving to go on another bender.

You made up some phony excuse to college about there being a death in the family and you needing to go abroad to attend the funeral and help keep things going, and your professor - being the gentle and empathetic soul he was, insisted you take as much time as you needed, but urged you to try and keep at least a little up-to-date on essays, lecture notes and study. Instead, you spent those weeks simply trying to keep your head above water while with each day that your mother didn't come home, you got more and more rapidly concerned of her wellbeing.

That's how you got there: studying in the library at your college. The day previous your mother had finally come home, professing to you vehemently that she wanted to 'change for the better'. She put on her best apologetic face and swore up and down that she'd do better from now on, even offering to do the dishes that night after cooking a less than satisfactory meal for you both, but you didn't believe it before, and you didn't believe it then. Your mother wasn't the woman she was four years ago and you both knew it. She lied, she cheated, she went to any length if it was of any gain for herself. Still, you gave her the benefit of the doubt and feigned belief in her.

Your first morning back after nearly a month started in the only way someone with your lack of luck would; you missed the bus to your college campus after spending just a little to long on your hair, and ended up frantically running after it flailing your arms ridiculously as you missed it by mere seconds. Knowing the bus journey was shorter than the walk, and realising that another bus would take at least another twenty minutes to turn up, you decided to walk, adjusting your usual pace to a slightly more rapid one in order to try and minimise the length of time you'd be late by.

In true fashion - that didn't go as planned either. Walking is easy, right? Nothing can go wrong with that, surely? But no, unlucky you managed to fall and hurt yourself while running across the crossing just a meter or so from the entrance to the campus, nearly getting yourself run over in the process.

Apologising profusely at the driver in the car that nearly just flattened you and going as red as a beetroot, you limped to your lecture, only to find that you were late and the lecture had already started, awkwardly inserting yourself into the room, sitting uncomfortably on a small patch that could barely be considered a seat right at the front, next to someone you'd never spoken to.

After the lecture was over, your professor called you over and addressed the issue of your falling grades, telling you that you risked not making it through your first year, and that you passing the unit you were working on would require a lot of hard work and 'going the extra mile once in a while'. Upon hearing this, you agreed that you had indeed been slacking in your studies and promised to work harder and catch up what you missed, taking your professors suggestion of studying in the library for more peace and quiet and setting yourself up at a computer in the quiet study zone tucked up in the corner.

"..so, I'm sitting there and she's just finished shouting at me in front of the entire class right? I go to speak up and actually answer her and she just points at the door. At this point I'm just so fucking fed up I get up with my all my stuff and leave the room.. She has the nerve to ask me what I'm doing!" you hear someone say from somewhere in the room, followed by laughter at what you deciphered from the little of dialogue you heard, that it must of been a story you would of liked to of heard in full.

It takes all that you have in you to not let out a giggle at the way they said it. For a moment you almost don't realise who it is until you see his trademark swoopy reddish-brown hair through the tiny gap in between the other side of the desk and you, also spotting the leather jacket he so insisted on wearing everywhere, realising it's him.

Don't look over there, he'll see you! your subconscious internally screeches at you as you try to type up your literature essay and consistently lose focus because of the boy sitting directly opposite you, Johnny Seo; one of the most popular, sauve boys in your college, and the boy you happened to absolutely despair about seeing.

It wasn't because you didn't like him (even if he could be one of the most annoying human beings on earth at times) but because you thought he was attractive, very attractive. Every single time you saw him in the hallway to the lecture halls, or you saw him in the canteen eating with his friends you usually just tried to blend in as much as possible to avoid him making any unnecessary observations about you.

But today was different. Today, you couldn't blend in, and today you couldn't ignore him. He was right there in front of you and he wasn't going away anytime soon knowing your luck.

Johnny and you weren't madly in love with each other, or so you thought - and your textbook college crush on him was a slow burner, although one-sided as far as you could tell.

You didn't like him at first, not one bit. No, you really disliked him at first actually. He was the type to be the loudest in the room because of his need to always be the life and soul of the party, and the shining light that everyone marvelled at. Your first encounter was a mix of you remarking on how idiotic you thought he was acting and sounding like, and you trying to figure out what his real motive was.

It was easy to tell that Johnny craved attention, right down to the clothes he wore. Studs, chains, leather, ripped jeans and t-shirts you'd never imagine yourself buying, never mind wearing. He was the bad boy cliché to a tee, and strangely enough, you grew to love it. You would often try and take a peek at the day's outfit just to try and judge how good he was when it came to fashion; turns out, he was surprisingly good at it, and had a talent for knowing what colours really went together, and used that to get the attention he desired.

"Fuck." you absentmindedly slip out upon coming to that realisation. Quickly, you scramble to put your hand to use, covering your own mouth once you register what you just said, and laugh nervously hoping nobody heard you or even worse, saw you.

In that same moment, Johnny peaks his head up at you and lifts his head slightly above the computer screen in front of you to see you properly. He takes a moment to say anything.

"Thinking out loud, hmm?" he confidently observes, eyeing you and shooting you a twinkly grin.

You take a moment to think about how you're going to play this, pondering on if you would you reply genuinely, or opt for the cocky and sarcastic approach you so desperately wanted to try out on him.

There'll be time for sarcasm later on, just say something nice and move on, it's not worth the distraction it'll cause.

Cheerfully grinning back at him, you giggle and nod.

"A bad habit of mine I guess, gets me in all sorts of trouble if I'm not careful." you absently blurt out after not even a moment of reflection, and cock your brow suggestively, laughing at your own words.

Hearing the words that escaped you, Johnny thinks for a second, eyes scanning the desk below him as if somehow it'll help him figure out how to reply appropriately to your statement. You can just see the mental cogs turning in his head as he scrambles in his own mind to come up with a coherent sentence in response. The friend sitting next to him, Mark Lee, makes absolutely no attempt to help him out either which is quite amusing to watch, and if anything he enjoys staring at him the same as you are a little too much by the way he's on verge of absolutely losing his mind in fits of laughter, waiting to see what he'll say next.

"Habits can be grown out of though, right? Thinking less might help, perhaps. You do enough of it in between classes and outside of college." he specifies, seeing him realise what he actually came up with and wishing the words could go straight back into his mouth as soon as they left it.

This intrigues you. Johnny never seemed to notice you before, and you didn't have any classes with him, so how in the name of God did he know any of this? It was true, you were always a very thoughtful person, and spent a lot of time in your own head when you didn't need to be paying attention to much else. It was a trait and a very annoying habit that you'd developed through the years you spent helping your father write his latest article or laying the finishing touches to the latest project that he insisted only you could introduce, and it had stuck with you to this day.

"And how would you know that, Johnny? Come to think of it, I HAVE been seeing a really strange guy following me around campus and down my street, wouldn't happen to be you would it?" you playfully wonder, giggling and waiting to see whether you could make him sweat just a little bit.

Once he hears the whole of your statement, he looks around for any escape from the conversation, immediately realising that once again, his impulsive and cocky nature had gotten the better of him again. He also quickly realises that you're definitely not as unknown to him as he originally theorised, on account for the fact that you knew his name quite clearly.

For you, it brings you to finally realise that you two aren't so different after all, and seeing him murmur to himself and second guess himself gives you the impression he's faking all that confidence that he carries around with him just as much as you are in that situation.

"N-no, of course not! I just really know how to read people, and whenever I see you, you're always deep in thought, you know? I think it's probably quite a virtue to be able to get into that mindset so easily. I really struggle with it as you can see, my mouth runs away with itself. You must have so many thoughts you can just have all to yourself and not ever share." he rambles on, nervously itching at a small cut on his hand and picking at the scab.

Mark looks over at him as he says this, and watches Johnny squirm uncomfortably, laughing a little more outwardly by now, knowing that his best friend is struggling and that he's loving watching it unfold.

"Wish I'd keep some of mine to myself once in a while though." he continues, trailing off into nervous chatter about how he appreciates your ability to be so collected.

At this you can only let out giggles and laughs as he continues to ramble. The realisation springs upon you quite suddenly in the heat of that moment that you're quite interested by him, and that you'd like to get to know him more if he'd let you.

"I get it Johnny, it's nice that you actually notice me to be honest. Many don't." His head immediately tilts to the side and his eyes narrow sharply.

"Many don't? Wow. Well I must be the first one to truly see you for how intriguing you really are y/n. All the other people in this campus must be blind." he pushes out, effortlessly and so charismatically you felt like your cheeks were the colour of roses by now.

Suddenly, a hand slams on the desk and both your focuses turn to Mark, now sitting there with a stern but joking expression on his soft and supple looking exterior.

"I think that's enough flirting for today, hmm Johnny? We have to get back to class anyway, you're in enough trouble as it is." Mark interjects, having Johnny in agreement that they do indeed, need to go back to class now.

Before they leave however, you feel a hand cover your shoulder and caress it in a calming and reassuring fashion.

"Next time, I promise I'll try and make it just the two of us - no Mark to interrupt us. You're far interesting y/n for me to just leave it at that. Plus, I'll probably have more overdue work to finish knowing me, no escape from me then since it looks like you're in the same boat." he chuckles, running his free hand through his crimson locks, knowing he's really testing his luck here.

"Ah, Johnny Seo hinting at a second meeting? That really is an event for the history books. Well maybe, I'll get it all done today just so you have to come looking for me first." you expressed jokingly.

Playfully hitting your arm, Johnny lets out a laugh that you've never heard from him, a laugh that sounds so bouncy and lighthearted you could almost die from how ridiculously adorable it was to you.

"Then it's a date!" he echoes as he walks away, leaving you in a state of shock.

A date?!

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dynamic-instability · 4 years

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In one of my classes we have to write weekly personal narratives about an experience with illness. This week, mine turned into this. It’s probably too personal, and too... immediate?? to turn in to a professor without cutting out a lot of stuff, but not too personal to post online I guess lol

_____________________________

It’s November again.

In 2009 the lights were too bright. Mid-October one morning I woke up to my dad turning on my lights and it was like having to look into the sun while posing for a photo—my eyes wouldn’t stay open, if I forced them to, they couldn’t stay pointed in one direction, they spasmed and hurt. When the light was dimmed, I still saw double. That morning, I showered in the dark, and I remember being scared. They gave me eyedrops that paralyzed my accommodative muscles. In November my pupils were giant discs and I wore reading glasses over sunglasses to look at the computer, and when it was all said and done, the lights were still too bright, and I still saw double.

In 2011 I was tired. There’s fatigue and then there’s fatigue, I learned that Fall. In May of that year I had pulled two all-nighters in a week, and that was the only other time I’d felt this kind of tired, a sensation in about the 30th hour of the second time where it’s like my brain itched. I once saw someone else online describe it as “nausea, but in your head and eyes instead of in your throat and stomach” and that’s the closest anyone else has come to describing it. By November this was happening more and more often. I remember laying down in the corner of the room during a break of Citywide choir and thinking what the hell is wrong with me? I got a cold the next week, and I thought that maybe that was all it was. It wasn’t.

In 2013 I went to the ER for the fifth time in three months of college, and when I wanted to leave before waiting another couple of hours to eventually see a doctor who would tell me once again that they couldn’t do anything to help me, the woman from student life who was there to drive me back to campus made me call my parents on speaker phone and get their permission to leave before she would turn on the car. I had missed more chemistry labs than I could afford to miss without failing, passed out in a voice lesson, was asked by the director to drop out of choir because watching me was distraction when I looked like I was in pain, and if I passed out it would have ruined the concert for everyone. I remember leaving calculus in the mornings mid-class to go to the bathroom and lay on the floor and cry. I remember not being able to lift my hand off the mattress of my dorm room bed. I withdrew from half of my classes on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, and took the Spring semester off.

In 2014 I had made a promise to myself that I would come back to college full time for that Fall semester just to see if I could do it, and then if I couldn’t I would drop out for good. There was one week where I thought that might be happening. Mid-November. The girls in my dorm had made a fort in the lounge out of sheets and blankets and colorful scarves and I remember laying on the couch through the green-filtered light and feeling the world spin and thinking oh god I still can’t do this. The door opened with a rush of cold air and my friends came in with food for me, since I’d been too sick to go to dinner. They sat with me and helped me with chemistry, offered to type up a paper if I dictated it, told jokes and made me laugh. I took an incomplete in one class, but I passed everything else, just barely scraped through, and came back in January.

In 2015 I just wanted to sleep. I passed out in an elevator and heard familiar voices, concerned voices, as I came to, and I stayed there laying motionless for another minute longer, because as long as I wasn’t awake I didn’t have to keep pushing. I wrote whole pages of completely unreadable ochem notes because my hand wasn’t working any better than my brain, and woke up on the floor and was wheeled out on a stretcher crying. It was dark all the time. My cane slipped on wet leaves and I felt my wrist crunch and there it was, one too many missed organic chemistry labs. I couldn’t stand for an entire choir rehearsal because breathing to sing made me lightheaded. I slept for 16 hours a day. The week before Thanksgiving, I called my mother to tell her I had decided to take another hardship withdrawal, and she sighed. I had applied to transfer schools during my much more optimistic Spring semester and Summer, and the week I left was also the week I found out I’d been accepted.

And so okay now it’s 2019, and it’s October and now November again, semester plan again, dark again. My reading is piling up again, feeling overwhelmed again, laying on my kitchen floor again. But here’s the thing—my health is… fine? Midterm week I didn’t sleep, and yes I passed out twice, but no ER. For the past 18 months, I can count on one hand the number of mornings I’ve been unable to get out of bed because of fatigue. My heart still pounds too hard but my head doesn’t swim every time I sit up. I walk the streets of New York City like mobility has never been a problem. I always take the stairs. My brain doesn’t itch until it’s been 30 hours no sleep.

I couldn’t go to class last week. I lay on the floor of my kitchen and stared up at the ceiling and tried to get up, tried to type out an email to my professors, and I couldn’t do it. I was not too tired. I was not too weak. I was not in pain. I could not move. I try to write and try to write and try to write and the words don’t come. I eat instant oatmeal at 9 PM because I haven’t been to the store in a month. I have lost nearly 15 pounds since moving to New York. I clean the stove for two and a half hours but can’t bring myself to take the dead spider off the side of the bathtub. I check the door lock one-two-three times, pace the floor, sit back down. I do not read Austerlitz. I write a Canvas post for Self and Other but it’s nonsense. I do not write a Canvas post for Accounts of Self. I do not write a Canvas post for Applied Writing. I write a Canvas post for Illness and Disability and somehow forget to post it, the one thing I’ve actually done, because I’m too busy feeling sick at everything I haven’t. I shadow a doctor for the clinical witnessing assignment and everything is fine but when I try to write it up I have a panic attack that leaves me sobbing on my couch and the assignment nine days late and counting. It takes me eight hours to write two pages. I watch 18 hours of YouTube video essays discussing drama about creators I don’t even watch and play a stupid game on my phone for an entire weekend until I’ve spent $25+ in a labyrinth of microtransations and every time I close my eyes I see the moving dots.

In November of 2015 I had three overdue essays for Global Literature, and two more due in the next two weeks. More than half were on books I had not read. My pre-lab wasn’t done for organic chemistry, and I wondered for a moment, if I pretended to pass out, if that would be easier. I stayed up until 4 AM laying on my floor and listening to Hamilton. I was sick, that much is true, but when I felt okay I still sat at my computer and could not bring myself to write.

In 2011 I had so many unfinished assignments for my college-level English class that I resigned myself to failing and I went to school the morning of the final class, but I hid in the stairwell by the choir room until I heard the bell, and I never went back to that class.

2009 was the year my dad stopped being able to yell at me for not doing my homework, because no one, including me, could tell whether it was actually my eyes stopping me.

In 2008 I wrote 6 essays in the 5 days of Thanksgiving break because I had not done any work for Intro to Lit all semester. I pulled it off, somehow, even aced the class because of an unusually lenient late work policy, but what I most remember is the sick feeling of dread as I lay on the floor in the living room staring up at the Christmas tree and feeling invisible sand slip through an invisible hourglass and a vice tightening in my chest.

In 2006 I stayed up almost all night writing a paper and crying my eyes out because I couldn’t find the words to explain to anyone why it had been so impossible for me to get the work done, that I wasn’t being lazy or distracted, I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t necessarily reading YA novels or watching TV or IMing my friends instead of working, I could sit and stare at a blank word document for 6 hours straight and still it would not get done. Everyone talked about potential, talked about how smart I was, but a gradebook that is half 100’s and half 0’s still averages out to an F. No one, including me, could explain the discrepancy. The logic of that simple math was not lost on me, the knowledge that turning in half-finished or not very good work was mathematically better than not doing it, but that didn’t mean I could do it. Words failed me when I tried to explain the illogic of my particular suffering.

I didn’t hear the term executive dysfunction until I was in my 20s. In retrospect I was tentatively told at 16 that I had “probably some ADHD and OCD”, but that psychiatrist was someone I’d been sent to by a neurologist because he thought she could fix my eyes, and when she said she couldn’t, I stopped making appointments. After I got sick, physically sick, the lines blurred between what was causing what, to the point where even I have no idea. Two of the Novembers missing here are ones I spent at CC, on the block plan where I only took one class at a time. My physical health arguably improved a little after transferring in January of 2016, but mostly it didn’t, not until Spring of 2018 at least. And you can see that evidence in dropped blocks, concussions from passing out onto hard surfaces, a couple of incompletes taken when viral illnesses (or concussions) compounded my other problems. What the block plan changed was the way things pile up, lessened the struggle of constant task switching between classes. (Admittedly, I also had fewer papers when taking mostly science classes. Writing takes much more energy, and it’s much harder to convince myself it doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth submitting.) At CC nothing ever really reached the level of catastrophe. Some of that is purely the ability to drop a single block, meaning when it was my physical health that was the problem, I didn’t lose a whole semester, just one class, then reset. But I should have realized sooner that the block plan wouldn’t account for the level of improvement if my physical health had really been the only barrier.

So we’re back to now. Grad school. November again. Dark again. Semester plan again. Too much writing again. Crushing dread again. Dysfunction again. Panic attack in the middle of the night increasingly elaborate organizing rituals scream of the subway tracks in my mind can’t stop can’t start can’t breathe can’t move burnout again. This time without the explanation of chronic fatigue to fall back on.

I have my tricks, have actually learned somewhat to cope in the past 18 years. Schedules help, break tasks into pieces that are as small as possible. Mindfulness meditation. Forgive yourself when it’s not perfect. Get started with something easy, set a timer for 20 minutes and only work for those 20 minutes and then let yourself stop if you want to (and surprisingly often, you won’t want to, sometimes that momentum is all it takes). If you work better in the night, work in the night, who cares what society says your sleep schedule should be. When switching tasks, physically get up and move to a different location. Allow yourself to procrastinate on work with other work if that’s what you have to do. Delete the stupid games from your phone. One or two missed assignments are not actually the end of the world, if you let yourself view it as piling up, you won’t be able to get anything done, so if you absolutely have to, just move through and move on.

It’s not a catastrophe, this November. It’s a fight, but it’s not a catastrophe. I read Austerlitz and forgive myself for skimming it. I write a Canvas post and forgive myself when it’s only 500 words and doesn’t make complete sense. I read Toni Morrison and Édouard Louis and classmates’ discussion posts about Deaf culture and identity and remember why this matters in the first place, that it’s not just a series of assignments to overwhelm me, it’s a series of interesting complicated exhausting important thoughts and questions. I get it done. Some of it. Most of it. I let myself sleep. I breathe. I remember to be grateful because I can get out of bed in the mornings and take the stairs. I am okay.

#chronic illness #executive dysfunction #chronic fatigue #College and chronic illness #personal lol

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aquarianlights · 5 years

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Happy Personal Update Time!!

I know I promised to do this forever ago, but things got busy. So here I am!

Most of you know this is my personal blog, but it has become a lot less personal since pursing medical education. I’m still here, though, and I still love coming here to read all the asks I get and interact with all my followers and all that good stuff. What I really miss is being able to post text posts. They have always been my way of venting and letting go of inward pain, anger, frustration, etc... Text posts/ranting have always been super cathartic for me. But my life is great now and I’m happy to just jump back in to give a long overdue update every once in a while because I miss doing it and I know I still have longtime followers somewhere in that list of people. Haha. Exciting stuff is happening, though!! And I’m very excited to share it, as well.

SO.............this is gonna be long because THERE’S GREAT STUFF HAPPENING!! :D AND I WANT TO SHARE IT ALL!! I hope someone will read this coz man oh man have I come a long fucking way from the whiny little drug addicted suicidal little boy I used to be. Haha. :)

This fall semester is going to be just lovely. I’m going to have the opportunity to work with one of the clubs I’m joining to teach high schoolers how to properly do dissections. I’ll be taught how to properly clean equipment like microscopes and auger plates and such. And I’ll be working alongside a couple of my professors and other club members to mentor high schoolers in some cool biology stuff. :)

The other night, I finally got official international membership with Phi Theta Kappa and also got international membership with the Omega Nu Chapter. I’ll be receiving all that good proof stuff soon like certificates and such, but the reason I’m primarily excited about that is because that opens me up to a TON of scholarship opportunities. Both of those societies give out a fuckton of money every year for academic achievement and with me transferring schools, I’m hoping to be lucky enough to snag some of that.

One of my professors recommended me for a student council officer position and I found out recently that he spoke with another professor in the same department that had me as a student and she got on board with that, but I’m not entirely sure I want to go that route because while I was writing up my essay to submit to the current SGA explaining why they should choose me for one of the officer positions, I really didn’t feel all that passionate at all about it, so I’d much rather someone with a passion for the position have it, but it made me feel good that my professors have that kind of faith in me. I’m still debating on it, though.

Another professor of mine submitted my name for an internship position with a student partnership that eventually leads you to an invite-only online community where you can be set up with more internship opportunities and helps to make connections in your field and all sorts of stuff. The internship has a $200 stipend for the first semester that you do it and a $250 stipend for every following semester that you do it.

I was going to try it out with her this summer semester, but I had *NO* idea there was so much involved. By the time I had completed my 10 hours of training, I was in shock by the amount of work I was going to need to do to prepare for the role so I’ll actually be taking it on for the first time during Fall semester instead of summer, which is annoying because part of this internship requires you to make a short presentation in every one of the classes that the professor has that term for the students their class (and any other professor in the department who uses the software who may need you), record said lecture and put it up on canvas with the professor for anyone who missed the 1st day of class and for any online classes, be open for any questions after the presentation from both the students and the professor, hold at least 2 hours worth of office hours during the first week, and a *TON* of other stuff that happens prior to the semester before this and after this throughout the semester that would take forever to list. This is annoying that I am having to start in the fall because summer semester has less than HALF the students that fall has. There’s barely anyone there in the summer at all and summer classes are usually very laid back. The teachers are so chill in the summer and usually don’t care much, whereas the Fall semester is serious business and there are TONS of incoming freshman all confused about where they are going and everyone is lost and in a hurry and nervous and it is just total chaos literally everywhere on any campus you go to. So we really wanted to test this out during summer, but there’s just no way. The amount of representatives I have to meet and sit down with and hash out certain details with prior to even making this presentation is going to take me at least a couple weeks and summer semester starts next week. Lol. I only had like 3 weeks from the time my professor submitted my name. Was not nearly enough time.

It’s a very overwhelming internship and the work is... daunting. I mean, it is going to be a *LOT* of work and it is something I have never done before and it will be a style of leadership that I have never had placed on my shoulders before, but everyone has to take that first step at some point in their life. I hope I can do it. I’m going to try... I won’t say I’m not nervous about standing in front of a lecture hall full of students... but I’m probably not as nervous as some would be. I used to hold rally’s in my town square when I was younger to inform the public on the dangers of puppy mills, so I’m quite comfortable with public speaking, but I will say that it has been a good minute since I have done it and I have never stood up in front of a lecture room full of college students who are the same as I am and tried to pretend to know exactly what I’m doing. That’s a little scary to me. Ngl. Lol.

I’m going to be taking American Sign Language as a fluff class to boost my GPA, so I’m really excited about that because I’ve been wanting to learn it really badly. Just wanted to throw that in there haha. :)

That’s about it for the really BIG things for Fall Semester right now, not including like... the normal hard classes, graduating and switching uni’s soon and stuff. Which I’m super excited about!!

BUT!!...This summer is gonna be lit as well!

I got a volunteer position that I’m going to be in orientation for sometime soon (I think next week is what she said) where I’m going to a local shelter and all I’m doing all day is walking dogs, socializing dogs (basically playing with them and getting them comfortable around humans and other dogs so they’re more adoptable), bathing dogs, and basic training (sit, stay, etc...). It is basically my DREAM volunteer position!!

I just remembered reading an article at one point that said “most people don’t know that shelters really need people to just walk the dogs because regular volunteers usually don’t have the time”. And I remembered volunteering at the Humane Society when I was more able bodied than I am now and that was not something I could do now. It was much too physically taxing. Cleaning kennels, washing over 100 dog bowls in a massive sink that I had to stand on a stool to reach, washing tons of worn out dog blankets and toys, carrying heavy loads of laundry, carrying heavy water dishes out to the play yard, filling up buckets and carrying them, scrubbing the floors with a scrubber thing, etc etc etc... like, I could barely do it as able bodied as I was then. There was no slowing down because you had to rotate the dogs out and you only had a certain amount of time to clean the few bowls and toys/beds/towels we had and only a certain amount of time to power wash/spray down the kennels they were in. It was very very fast paced work and one large break in the middle of the day and I had to leave early and I know I could not do that now. Not in a million years.

Dog walking is something I can do with any size dog. Dog washing is still something I can do and something I have done professionally many times in the grooming industry. Dog socializing is wonderfully cathartic for me AND them. And I’m quite good with basic training, despite what it may seem with Echo...lmao (he just hasn’t been around consistency, which is a huge problem).

So I’m very very excited to get through my orientation and get started on this volunteer position! They were so kind and said that my physical disabilities would be no problem and they could work with me on my pace. I’m really looking forward to this and I’m hoping I can maybe fit it into my schedule when school starts up, even if I have to cut it down to just a couple hours, one day a week.

AND THEN........

In my PERSONAL life...

I’ve made a really cool circle of friends who isn’t intertwined with one of the most toxic people in my life that I really love and will most likely keep in my life forever because I truly believe they can unlearn the toxic behaviour and they’re one of my platonic soul mates. So I now have this really awesome circle of friends that I’m experiencing and learning all these new things about myself and about New Orleans and I keep getting closer with them.

((I may or may not post a rant I wrote up about that, coz it’s painful to talk about. And this is a happy post so it doesn’t go here!!))

I’m learning how to cook through one of those friends. I don’t have enough money to throw at a Hello Fresh subscription, but one of my next door neighbours in my apartment complex has turned into my really good friend and she has a Hello Fresh bi-weekly subscription and it usually is a 2-serving dish and we both live alone and we are both learning to cook for the first time, so we are doing it together. :D She invites me over to her apartment whenever she’s cooking and we’ll just muddle through learning how to cook together. It’s going to be a lot of fun honestly because I have SOOOOO much to learn!! :) Recently got a NutriBullet so I can make protein shakes, but I need to look at recipe’s coz mixing protein powder with just milk or water is awful. Ugh.

I’ve made up my own 30 day challenge for exercising and basically just becoming more healthy and getting my heart and muscles in better shape. June has 30 days so I figured what better way to do a 30 day challenge than on a month that has 30 days lol. Easy to keep track of, right? I made myself a chart and put it on my fridge and everything. Going to keep a log. I’m very excited to see the difference between day 1 and day 30. Going to take pictures for comparison. Idk if 30 days will make that big of a difference, honestly but... we’ll see??? Lol.

I guess this should go up in the school section, but I’m also working on quite a few scholarship entries so we’ll see how that goes!! I had NO idea so many easy essay scholarships were out there!! Keeping it to 1k words is the hard part. :( Eeeeeeeeeeep!!

Been studying for the MCAT’s and tryna find a medical math tutor. It’s gonna be hard, but... we’ll see. Hopefully the MCAT prep classes will help.

I’m in love with deep cleaning and organizing and my neighbour is gonna pay me to clean her apartment and then I’m going over to her mother’s house that she’s renting out (her mother passed away recently and she couldn’t handle staying in the house anymore) to help her Marie Kondo the place. We’re just gonna kind of... go at her own pace, slowly thank everything for doing its job, and get rid of everything that we can and deep clean everything while we are doing it. Probably just take it a day or a week at a time. I’ll be there with her to support her through the process...like if she needs to cry on someone when she sees a certain item or something. I’m excited to help with her journey to recovery and I’m so honoured to be given the chance to be someone’s rock. I love the bond me and my neighbour are developing. I just feel so honoured.

I’m going up to my parents house, then up to Virginia, then hopefully MA towards the end of the summer. Looking forward to the trip quite a bit. :)

HONESTLY...

I’m just so freakin’ excited. My life is going so wonderfully. Everything is so great. My apartment is wonderful, my relationship with my mom is on the mend because of how well in school I’m doing (you all know that’s all she cares about lol), I have wonderful friends and a great support group, my therapist and I click really well, I’m making opportunities happen and having opportunities open up to me in return, I’m meeting new people and seeing new things, I’m feeling physically healthier than ever (even though my chronic pain is worse than ever), I almost always wake up in a good mood, I’ve been getting a good amount of sleep almost every single night, school is good, connections in the professional world are growing...

The ONLY thing holding me back right now is money. I’m pretty much living paycheck to paycheck and it is killing me. The amount of things I *WANT* to do but don’t have the money for is just killing me. I’ve been wanting to take dance lessons, but I don’t have the money. Been wanting to sign up to a yoga studio and FINALLY found one IN MY AREA(!!) that had instructors trained in dealing with people with ehlers danlos syndrome (which is crazy coz lots of yoga instructors turn me away when they hear I have ehlers danlos type 3), but I can’t afford it.

I can barely pay my rent. :| I’m lucky I have EBT, otherwise I literally would not have had any food over the past 2 months. I would have had to choose between having a roof over my head or having food, so thank FUCK I have EBT coz I have a full cabinet and fridge right now. Fucking bless. Lololol.

I’m just so content. There’s a lot of stuff going wrong here and there and a lot of stuff stressing me out, but OVERALL... I couldn’t be happier.

Things have really taken a turn in my life and I have been waiting for them to all come crashing down for 2 years now and they still haven’t and that’s amazing to me.

And there’s my update lol. Hope you enjoyed the Killian Chronicles. 😂 😂 😂 Love and missed you all! 😘

((PS: This has not been proofread and most likely never will be. Free-flow-thought writing is my specialty lol.))

#personal #me.txt

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yellowpeach · 5 years

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For the film asks, all of them? (2010/Chris Evans/Brie Larson/Edgar Wright for the *insert here* questions)

ahh!!! thank you so much for asking anon! this will take a while so i will probs stick most of it under a cut :)

a movie you’ve seen most times in cinema.

i answered this one here!

your most rewatched movie.

that’d be between toy story, the lord of the rings trilogy, moulin rouge, to all the boys i’ve loved before and this weird animated film called tubby the tuba. my grandma owned it on vhs and i spent basically every school holiday at her house so i watched it more times than i can think of!

a movie you quote on a daily basis.

i quote dumb youtube videos more than films on a regular basis, but i do quote a lot of lord of the rings lines like “it comes in pints?!” or anything else that comes out of one of the hobbits mouths.

favorite movie soundtrack

probably moulin rouge? that or the first guardians of the galaxy. they’re the only two that i still own on CD..

top 5 films of your favorite actor and actress

okay so my initial thought for favourite actor is actually tom hanks, so in that case.

forrest gump

philadelphia

toy story

the green mile

larry crowne (not the most amazing film in the world but it’s so endearing to me!)

and for actress i would probably say toni colette? her or blake lively, but i don’t have a top five for either of them. for toni it’d be;

about a boy

muriel’s wedding

miss you already

and for blake it’d be;

a simple favor

the age of adeline

elvis and annabelle

top 5 performances of your favorite actor and actress.

see above, they’re one and the same to me.

a movie storyline you wish you had actually lived.

about time. might be biased since i’m watching it now, but it’d be nice to do things over if i could.

a movie that reminds you of your mum.

local hero. i’ve watched it with her many times and it’s one of her favourites.

a movie that reminds you of your dad.

any of the harry potter films. we went to all of them at the cinema together.

favorite movies from your childhood.

it’s gonna be toy story again. this will likely be a running theme, i fucking love this movie.

favourite quote(s).

too many to count from the lord of the rings. sam’s monologue at the end of the two towers, gandalf speaking to pippin in return of the king. also sam saying “i can’t carry it for you, but i can carry you!”. this is really just a love letter to sam now, isn’t it….

top 5 favorite female performances.

i would have to come back to this, i can’t brain right now.

top 5 favorite male performances.

see above.

favourite year for movies.

after googling, it looks like 1993 was a bloody good year.

your favorite movies from [insert year].

2010 is the year you mentioned and from looking on google, my faves are toy story 3, how to train your dragon, black swan, scott pilgrim vs the world, easy a, megamind, tangled, AHH DAYDREAM NATION CAME 2010!! MY FAVE!! man, 2010 was a good one :D

favorite [insert actor/actress/director] movies?

so you said chris evans, brie larson and edgar wright. so faves in order would be:

short term 12

captain america: the winter soldier

hot fuzz or the world’s end (can’t pick between the two soz)

list all you’ve seen from [insert actor/actress/director].

so many, my dude. so many.

an underrated actor.

brain is fried. i’m sure there’s some but i’m blanking hard.

an underrated actress.

see above.

an underrated director.

see above.

an overrated actor.

johnny fucking depp.

an overrated actress.

scarlett johansson soz lol

an overrated director.

QUENTIN FUCKING TARANTINO

a film you wish you had seen on the big screen.

like any of my favourite 80s movies or the original psycho. also the lord of the rings, for some reason my folks didn’t take me to those.

a movie you’ve seen that you think no one else’s here will have heard of?

i am yet to encounter someone who knows the previously mentioned tubby the tuba.

favorite movie characters.

steve rogers, rapunzel from tangled, leia skywalker, lara-jean song-covey

a film that was better than the book.

i love to all the boys i loved before, but the film captured me in a way that the book didn’t as much.

best remake.

i’d watch tom holland or andrew garfield over tobey maguire for spiderman any day fight me.

your first favorite actor.

probably orlando bloom? back when i was a wee bab, i watched anything of his that i could find at the video rental.

your first favorite actress.

hilary duff probably. child me watched all of lizzie mcguire and any movies of hers.

favorite animated film.

if you’ve read this far and can’t figure it out, i don’t know what to say. it’s toy story, obviously.

your most anticipated films.

endgame and basically any other superhero movie coming out, toy story 4, the sequel for to all the boys i’ve loved before, the richard curtis movie called yesterday that is coming out in june (???) i think, STAR WARS.

last movie that disappointed you.

sierra burgess is a loser. fuck, no one else wanted that movie to be good as much as i did.

last movie that surpassed your expectations

nothing will ever match how blown away i was by pacific rim when i saw it. i went with my cousin knowing literally NOTHING about it. also i guess 2017′s it. i’m not big on seeing horror at the cinema and i didn’t expect to find it as funny as i did because the kids in it were so great.

actor in need of new agent.

idk bruh, i can’t think of anything right now for this.

actress in need of new agent.

see above.

share an unpopular film opinion you have.

idk how unpopular this is because i’m pretty sure thanks to #metoo most people want these kind of people want out of hollywood, but i despise woody allen and roman polanski films. the fact that i had to study them while getting my degree is despicable, and the argument that they’ve done a lot for the film industry is trash. don’t make their work important, studying it so thoroughly gives it power and i want to never have to speak about their trash again.

favorite Oscar win/speech.

who couldn’t say olivia colman’s from this years oscars. that warmed my cold dead heart and i cried for her.

biggest Oscar snub(s).

arrival should have won/been nominated for more than it did.

who do you think is overdue for another nomination/win?

amy adams!!! she was so fucking amazing in arrival, i wanted her to win all of the things.

how many movies have you seen (rough estimation)?

must be hundreds (not that these answers are any indication since i’ve talked about approx four films) since i own hundreds of DVDs, i go to the cinema regularly, i am constantly watching stuff on netflix and any other streaming services.

a movie that made you go ‘wtf was that’.

un chien andalou, requiem for a dream and mothlight. the first two because they’re fucking disturbing, the last one because its just close ups of parts of moths and i had to watch it for a film paper. it’s a no from me.

a film that scarred you.

the mummy. the beetle under the skin gave me nightmares and i haven’t been able to watch it since.

most movies watched in a single day.

i havent’t taken notes, but i did watch all of the mcu movies with cap in them recently in a day?

a film that always makes you cry.

coco. i’ve yet to make it through without having a full on mental breakdown for the last third of that movie. also marley and me because doggos. and the last part of mamma mia: here we go again. and philadelphia. the take away from this answer is that i cry a lot in movies.

a film that always makes you laugh.

hot fuzz. in my first flat we watched it nearly everyday for like two weeks when we all moved in and watching it makes me think of how much we all laughed and quoted it to one another.

movies that you think everyone should watch (not necessarily your favorites).

get out, psycho, star wars, at least one classic film noir, arrival, the cornetto trilogy, back to the future. there’s more but i think this is a good starter for what i at least find to be important viewing.

a movie that took you a couple of viewings to appreciate.

honestly probably the lord of the rings. they didn’t really click with me until high school, and then they really really clicked. also fight club i guess; the second time around watching it, i got the toxic masculinity themes more. it sucks that men read that movie as the exact opposite.

a book you want to see adapted to the big screen.

i believe i already answered this here!

a book you really, really, really don’t want to see made into a film.

does jk rowling’s twitter count? i want to see nothing more from the harry potter universe that she has had anything to do with.

favorite child performance.

the kids in the goonies and it 2017 come to mind. let kids act like kids!!!

favorite pre-code.

mate, you are making the assumption that i remember enough of the old films i studied in my degree, and that i remember the pre-code dates. i’m sure i have one, but that is buried far too deep in my brain to actually remember.

Favorite silent film.

i really enjoyed the buster keaton stuff we watched when i did my history of film paper.

favorite coming of age film.

boyhood, love simon, the edge of seventeen, my girl (i’ll be honest, i just googled coming of age movies and picked my faves from the top results. doesn’t mean i don’t stand by these!!)

favorite superhero film.

captain america: the winter soldier, spiderman: into the spiderverse, black panther and the dark knight rises.

best cinematography.

i still really like her and wes anderson for their cinematography.

movies you know you should watch, but can’t bring yourself to do it?

so fucking many, my dude. the amount of movies i wrote essays about when i had watched maybe three scenes and read the synopsis is insane. after getting a degree in it, and with how burned out i got, i found it very hard to give a shit about classics that lecturers told me were important. the big one is the godfather; it’ll be a cold day in hell when i finally watch that one.

favorite genres.

i’m a sucker for anything romantic. also film noir, superheroes, animated, female-led, stuff set in the 80s, lgbt film (that isn’t gross and exploitative), comedy horrors. idk man, it’s hard to describe.

least favorite genres.

dull as fuck period pieces that say approximately nothing new and hash out the same old tired shit about treatment of poc and/or women. comedies in the same vein of austin powers, napoleon dynamite and sasha baron cohen stuff. white feminist narratives. anything that is shitty about fat women.

biggest movie pet peeve.

dark for no fucking reason!!! let films be bright and happy!!! ya girl hates having to strain her eyes to see what the heck is going on.

#answered #anonymous

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rapeculturerealities · 6 years

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In the wake of Anthony Bourdain’s tragic death at age 61, there are many things the chef and journalist will be remembered for — from his immense contributions to the food world to his empathetic and insightful travel reporting on Parts Unknown. In the past year, however, Bourdain also took on another important mantle that deserves to be part of his lasting legacy: that of #MeToo activist.

Since the Harvey Weinstein allegations broke, Bourdain has been one of the most vocal male allies of the #MeToo movement — simultaneously magnifying and championing women’s voices while engaging in the difficult work of reckoning with his own past behavior.

Amid the revelations of abuse and harassment in the restaurant industry, Bourdain was unwavering in his support for victims. Like many people in the past year, Bourdain watched as people close to him were accused of horrible deeds, but he never allowed his personal relationships to overshadow his principles. As he wrote in a Medium essay responding to allegations against fellow chef Mario Batali (a longtime friend) and restaurateur Ken Friedman, Bourdain did not want to “waste anybody’s time with expressions of shock, surprise, or personal upset,” but rather to stand firmly with their accusers.

“In these current circumstances, one must pick a side. I stand unhesitatingly and unwaveringly with the women,” he wrote. “Not out of virtue, or integrity, or high moral outrage — as much as I’d like to say so — but because late in life, I met one extraordinary woman with a particularly awful story to tell, who introduced me to other extraordinary women with equally awful stories.”

He went on:

“Right now, nothing else matters but women’s stories of what it’s like in the industry I have loved and celebrated for nearly 30 years — and our willingness, as human beings, citizens, men and women alike, to hear them out, fully, and in a way that other women can feel secure enough, and have faith enough that they, too, can tell their stories. We are clearly at a long overdue moment in history where everyone, good hearted or not, will HAVE to look at themselves, the part they played in the past, the things they’ve seen, ignored, accepted as normal, or simply missed — and consider what side of history they want to be on in the future.”

Bourdain has said that his reckoning was largely spurred by witnessing firsthand the experiences of his girlfriend, Asia Argento, one of Harvey Weinstein’s accusers. Just this week, he told IndieWire how proud he was of Argento’s Cannes speech calling out Harvey Weinstein’s enablers. “It was absolutely fearless to walk right into the lion’s den and say what she said, the way she said it,” he said. “It was an incredibly powerful moment, I thought. I am honored to know someone who has the strength and fearlessness to do something like that.”

In addition to his staunch support of Argento and other Weinstein accusers, Bourdain repeatedly called out men who were critical of #MeToo, from Alec Baldwin to James Corden. He also publicly wrestled with the question of his own past, and scrutinized his own history to see how it may have contributed to “meathead” restaurant culture. As he said in a powerful Slate interview with Isaac Chotiner: “I had to ask myself, particularly given some things that I’m hearing, and the people I’m hearing them about: Why was I not the sort of person, or why was I not seen as the sort of person, that these women could feel comfortable confiding in? I see this as a personal failing.”

Bourdain was forthright in acknowleding his own complicity in upholding a certain macho bad-boy chef archetype; as he told Chotiner in the Slate Q&A, he has spent a lot of time reevaluating his popular memoir Kitchen Confidential, and questioning the extent to which his writing glamorized a toxic system. “Because I was a guy in a guy’s world who had celebrated a system — I was very proud of the fact that I had endured that, that I found myself in this very old, very, frankly, phallocentric, very oppressive system and I was proud of myself for surviving it,” he said, candidly. “And I celebrated that rather enthusiastically, I mean, I became a leading figure in a very old, very oppressive system so I could hardly blame anyone for looking at me as somebody who’s not going to be particularly sympathetic.”

Since the news broke this morning, tweets have been rolling in celebrating all aspects of Bourdain’s life and legacy, including his feminist activism.

His empathy, insight, and courage should stand as a beacon to other men grappling with their own place in the #MeToo movement. For this, and so many other things, he will be missed.

#rip #feminism #Bourdain #allies #METoo

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daleisgreat · 4 years

Text

Pulp Fiction

2019 saw the release of Quentin Tarantino’s ninth written and directed film, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. It won me over like most of Quentin’s work and I instantly picked it up when it hit home video several weeks ago, but that is for a future entry. I reference the slightly belated latest release from Quentin so I can piggyback off it to catch up on another backlog box entry from a previous Quentin joint I upgraded to BluRay several years ago and did not get to pulling out of said box until now. That film is Tarantino’s movie that launched him into his first worldwide commercial and critical success in 1994’s Pulp Fiction (trailer). I have not seen the film since shortly after I got my original DVD copy as a birthday gift some 16-17 years ago, so a re-watch has been long overdue. For those unfamiliar, Quentin was riding high from the indie breakout success of his debut feature directed film, Reservoir Dogs (which I already covered right here). His unique filmmaking attracted A-list star attention, and Pulp Fiction brought in Bruce Willis, transitioned Samuel L Jackson and Uma Thurman into top level stars and re-introduced John Travolta as Hollywood-headliner material. An intro title card defines the meaning of ‘Pulp Fiction’ and it is how Quentin takes us for a ride on four tales of about 30-40 minutes in length each that each has their own unique gritty journeys that occasionally interweave with one another.

One of its iconic scenes is where gangster hit men Vincent (John Travolta) and Jules (Samuel L Jackson) have a seemingly ordinary back-and-fourth water cooler-esque conversation about Vincent’s recent vacation. The banter comes off very workman-like and they have a vintage Tarantino-style lengthy dialogue until they arrive at their destination which turns out to be a hit on a few targets who double-crossed their boss, Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames). How the two seamlessly pivot from everyday chit-chat into their job description is remarkable and Tarantino pulls it off with aplomb. The film then segues to Vincent taking Wallace’s wife, Mia (Uma Thurman) out for a night on the town. It is highlighted with the two eating at an extraordinary 50s-themed diner, Jackrabbit Slims, where the two enter into a dance contest that sees Travolta retained his dance skills from Grease and Uma able and willing to keep up in another evergreen scene. I had a riot checking out the alternative angle b-roll from this scene in the BluRay extras that sees a sweat-soaked Quentin enthusiastically dancing along about as well as I could (which is not very well at all, but dammit he is into it!) in the background.

From there the film focuses on boxer Butch Coolidge (Bruce Willis) and how he not only ignores Wallace’s orders to throw a fight, but unknowingly kills his opponent in the ring. Him and his wife, Fabienne (Maria de Medeiros) are then on the run until they realize Butch’s prized possession (masterfully explained in a flashback cameo from Christopher Walken) was forgotten at home. The unfolding aftermath where Butch goes to retrieve the item knowing that hitmen are on the prowl for him, and the whole world of out-of-nowhere hurt that transpires for both him and Wallace is the most gripping material in Pulp Fiction. After Butch’s tale concludes, the film jumps back to Vincent and Jules again from where it left off before after they finished the job, and follows Jules questioning his lifestyle until fate lands the pair in multiple precarious scenarios and saves the most pivotal dialogue in the entire picture until the very end that succeeded in once again in me finishing the movie floored by taking in this entire journey and thinking hard over Jules’ climactic final words. Another reason I wanted to re-watch Pulp Fiction for a while now is that Chris Jericho and Kevin Smith collaborated their podcasts to do a two-part commentary for the movie. The podcasting veterans have a nonstop dialogue, and Smith has a lot of useful filmmaking insights to add since his debut film, Clerks, also hit from Miramax in 1994 and both Smith and Tarantino were being billed as the next great wave of filmmakers. I admittedly wound up ignoring large chunks of the commentary though because I was reinvigorated from re-watching Pulp Fiction for the first time in nearly two decades and taking in all of Quentin’s elaborate verbiage exchanges again.

The BluRay is jacked with bonuses, both new and recycled from the DVD. Not the Usual Chit-Chat is the standout new HD extra where most of the cast touches on how they first met Quentin and how they landed the role and key production memories. Travolta’s memories I got the most out of from how he said Quentin gave him the boost he need to get back on top of his career and additional details on the aforementioned dance scene. Here are Some Facts on the Fiction is another BluRay exclusive extra with a roundtable discussion where five critics dissect their key takeaways from the film which brought a whole new perspective on the importance of Pulp Fiction to me. There are a surplus of carried over extras from the DVDs like fact tracks, deleted scenes, photo galleries, award speeches, press tour junkets and previous interviews. The two I want to emphasize though are an episode of Siskel & Ebert at the Movies covering Quentin’s early fame. Watching this again made me forget how much I dug the classic Siskel & Ebert show and this is the only movie I can recall that used segments of that classic film review show as a home video extra. A near hour long episode of the The Charlie Rose Show is also included where Quentin and Rose have a discussion about Quentin’s background and influences with a couple heated exchanges when Rose follows up Quentin on some pressing details. What was not carried over from the original DVD release is the special edition packaging, and Criterion Edition-esque booklet filled with critic essays from Entertainment Weekly and on-set photography. A replica Jack Rabbit Slims menu also did not get bundled with the BluRay, and all this is reason enough for me to retain my DVD copy.

I would be remiss if I did not mention my desire for the Tarantino commentary track he is notorious skipping out on for his own films. That, and the lack of original packaging and insert booklets are my only nitpicks with this otherwise excellent BluRay edition of Pulp Fiction. Tarantino is my favorite director, and being a big fan of most of his films makes it hard to rank Pulp Fiction, but it is definitely at or near the top. Watching it all these years later and I found no problem with it not holding up, and it only got better with age watching this now in my mid-30s compared to back in my early 20s. This is an important piece of cinema that put an exclamation point on Tarantino’s style and revolutionized cinema. For you youngins’ this is highest recommendation viewing if you have not seen it already. Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hercules: Reborn Hitman Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Major League Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

#random movie #pulp fiction #Quentin Tarantino #bruce willis #john travolta #samuel l jackson #uma thurman #tim roth #maria de medeiros #ving rhames #Steve Buscemi #christopher walken

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hl-herewegoagain · 5 years

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A court-appointed interpreter’s account of the May 12, 2008 Immigration and Customs Enforcement raid on Agriprocessors, Inc., the largest kosher slaughterhouse in the United States. 900 agents were involved in the raid. He says, “nothing could have prepared me for the prospect of helping our government put hundreds of innocent people in jail.”

Then began the saddest procession I have ever witnessed, which the public would never see, because cameras were not allowed past the perimeter of the compound (only a few journalists came to court the following days, notepad in hand). Driven single-file in groups of 10, shackled at the wrists, waist and ankles, chains dragging as they shuffled through, the slaughterhouse workers were brought in for arraignment, sat and listened through headsets to the interpreted initial appearance, before marching out again to be bused to different county jails, only to make room for the next row of 10. They appeared to be uniformly no more than 5 ft. tall, mostly illiterate Guatemalan peasants with Mayan last names, some being relatives (various Tajtaj, Xicay, Sajché, Sologüí...), some in tears; others with faces of worry, fear, and embarrassment. They all spoke Spanish, a few rather laboriously. It dawned on me that, aside from their Guatemalan or Mexican nationality, which was imposed on their people after Independence, they too were Native Americans, in shackles. They stood out in stark racial contrast with the rest of us as they started their slow penguin march across the makeshift court. “Sad spectacle” I heard a colleague say, reading my mind. They had all waived their right to be indicted by a grand jury and accepted instead an information or simple charging document by the U.S. Attorney, hoping to be quickly deported since they had families to support back home. But it was not to be. They were criminally charged with “aggravated identity theft” and “Social Security fraud”—charges they did not understand... and, frankly, neither could I.

The offense clearly refers to harmful, felonious acts, such as obtaining credit under another person’s identity. Obtaining work, however, is not an “unlawful activity.” No way would a grand jury find probable cause of identity theft here. But with the promise of faster deportation, their ignorance of the legal system, and the limited opportunity to consult with counsel before arraignment, all the workers, without exception, were led to waive their 5th Amendment right to grand jury indictment on felony charges. Waiting for a grand jury meant months in jail on an immigration detainer, without the possibility of bail. So the attorneys could not recommend it as a defense strategy. Similarly, defendants have the right to a status hearing before a judge, to determine probable cause, within ten days of arraignment, but their Plea Agreement offer from the government was only good for... seven days. Passing it up, meant risking 2 years in jail. As a result, the frivolous charge of identity theft was assured never to undergo the judicial test of probable cause. Not only were defendants and judges bound to accept the Plea Agreement, there was also absolutely no defense strategy available to counsel. Once the inflated charge was handed down, all the pieces fell into place like a row of dominoes. Even the court was banking on it when it agreed to participate, because if a good number of defendants asked for a grand jury or trial, the system would be overwhelmed. In short,“fast-tracking”had worked like a dream.

Of Agriprocessors’ 968 current employees, about 75% were illegal immigrants. There were 697 arrest warrants, but late-shift workers had not arrived, so “only” 390 were arrested: 314 men and 76 women; 290 Guatemalans, 93 Mexicans, four Ukrainians, and three Israelis who were not seen in court. Some were released on humanitarian grounds: 56 mostly mothers with unattended children, a few with medical reasons, and 12 juveniles were temporarily released with ankle monitors or directly turned over for deportation. In all, 306 were held for prosecution. Only five of the 390 originally arrested had any kind of prior criminal record. There remained 307 outstanding warrants.

This was the immediate collateral damage. Postville, Iowa (pop. 2,273), where nearly half the people worked at Agriprocessors, had lost 1/3 of its population by Tuesday morning. Businesses were empty, amid looming concerns that if the plant closed it would become a ghost town.

Some American parents complained that their children were traumatized by the sudden disappearance of so many of their school friends. The principal reported the same reaction in the classrooms, saying that for the children it was as if ten of their classmates had suddenly died. Counselors were brought in. American children were having nightmares that their parents too were being taken away. The superintendant said the school district’s future was unclear: “This literally blew our town away.” In some cases both parents were picked up and small children were left behind for up to 72 hours. Typically, the mother would be released “on humanitarian grounds” with an ankle GPS monitor, pending prosecution and deportation, while the husband took first turn in serving his prison sentence. Meanwhile the mother would have no income and could not work to provide for her children. Some of the children were born in the U.S. and are American citizens. Sometimes one parent was a deportable alien while the other was not. “Hundreds of families were torn apart by this raid,” said a Catholic nun. “The humanitarian impact of this raid is obvious to anyone in Postville. The economic impact will soon be evident.”

His case and that of a million others could simply be solved by a temporary work permit as part of our much overdue immigration reform. “The Good Lord knows I was just working and not doing anyone any harm.” This man, like many others, was in fact not guilty. “Knowingly” and “intent” are necessary elements of the charges, but most of the clients we interviewed did not even know what a Social Security number was or what purpose it served. This worker simply had the papers filled out for him at the plant, since he could not read or write Spanish, let alone English. But the lawyer still had to advise him that pleading guilty was in his best interest. … To him we were part of the system keeping him from being deported back to his country, where his children, wife, mother, and sister depended on him. He was their sole support and did not know how they were going to make it with him in jail for 5 months. … Before he signed with a scribble, he said: “God knows you are just doing your job to support your families, and that job is to keep me from supporting mine.” There was my conflict of interest, well put by a weeping, illiterate man.

We will never know how many of the 290 Guatemalans had legitimate asylum claims for fear of persecution, back in a country stigmatized by the worst human rights situation in the hemisphere, a by-product of the US-backed Contra wars in Central America under the old domino theory of the 1980s. For three decades, anti-insurgent government death squads have ravaged the countryside, killing tens of thousands and displacing almost two million peasants. Even as we proceeded with the hearings during those two weeks in May, news coming out of Guatemala reported farm workers being assassinated for complaining publicly about their working conditions. Not only have we ignored the many root causes of illegal immigration, we also will never know which of these deportations will turn out to be a death sentence, or how many of these displaced workers are last survivors with no family or village to return to.

I remember reading that immigration lawyers were alarmed that the detainees were being rushed into a plea without adequate consultation on the immigration consequences. Even the criminal defense attorneys had limited opportunity to meet with clients: in jail there were limited visiting hours and days; at the compound there was little time before and after hearings, and little privacy due to the constant presence of agents.There were 17 cases for each attorney, and the Plea offer was only good for 7 days. In addition, criminal attorneys are not familiar with immigration work and vice versa, but had to make do since immigration lawyers were denied access to these “criminal” proceedings.

One of my colleagues began the day by saying “I feel a tremendous solidarity with these people.” Had we lost our impartiality? Not at all: that was our impartial and probably unanimous judgment. We had seen attorneys hold back tears and weep alongside their clients. We would see judges, prosecutors, clerks, and marshals do their duty, sometimes with a heavy heart, sometimes at least with mixed feelings, but always with a particular solemnity not accorded to the common criminals we all are used to encountering in the judicial system.

The interpreter is the only one who gets to see both sides of the coin up close, precisely because he is the only participant who is not a decision maker, and is even precluded, by his oath of impartiality and neutrality, from ever influencing the decisions of others. That is why judges in particular appreciate the interpreter’s perspective as an impartial and informed layperson, for it provides a rare glimpse at how the innards of the legal system look from the outside. I was no longer sorry to have participated in my capacity as an interpreter. I realized that I had been privileged to bear witness to historic events from such a unique vantage point and that because of its uniqueness I now had a civic duty to make it known. Such is the spirit that inspired this essay.

The essay points out that the criminalization of “illegal immigration” arose with the creation of ICE as a part of the Office of Homeland Security. ICE was created “as a law enforcement agency for the post-9/11 era, to integrate enforcement authorities against criminal and terrorist activities, including the fights against human trafficking and smuggling, violent transnational gangs and sexual predators who prey on children.” This charge does not provide enough work for an agency that employed 16,500 in 2007 or justify its $5 billion 2007 budget.

The real numbers are in immigration: “In FY07, ICE removed 276,912 illegal aliens.” ICE is under enormous pressure to turn out statistical figures that might justify a fair utilization of its capabilities, resources, and ballooning budget.

#Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)#immigrants #immigration #race #racism #detention #asylum #Guatemala #inadequate legal representation #solidarity #court interpreters #bearing witness #undocumented immigrants

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oovitus · 5 years

Text

Weekend Reading, 2.10.19

My current internship rotation is a pretty big departure from the last one. It’s outpatient nutrition counseling at a community health center with multiple locations around the city; I’m splitting my time between Harlem, Chelsea, and the Bronx. The work is nearly all diabetes management, with some weight management and general nutrition guidance thrown in.

The work often feels repetitive, and in some ways I miss the intensity and variety of intellectual challenges that I had working in the hospital this fall. But this rotation brings me back to counseling, which is my passion; it’s the very thing that made me pursue the RDN in the first place.

Nutrition counseling is a funny thing. In some ways, it underscores how incredibly different each person’s food story is. It definitely affirms the fact that there’s no “right” eating style or nutrition formula for everyone; in many years of working one-on-one with people, I’ve yet to see an approach that didn’t have to be tailored sensitively to the individual.

Yet at the same time, I’m continually struck by how much shared terrain there is in peoples’ experiences with food. The internship year has given me an opportunity to work with new, and extremely diverse, populations of patients. In spite of how many cultures, ages, lifestyles, and stories I’ve crossed paths with, so much of what I hear echoes what I’ve heard from clients in my own practice for years. Every patient finds a way to communicate to me a fundamental desire to preserve good health. Most people say that they know how they “should” be eating, but that everyday life often vies with their intentions. Nearly everyone feels a little better when they move and eat vegetables.

And then there are the shared struggles. In nearly every nutrition counseling environment I’ve worked in, I’ve heard people admit to deep shame surrounding how and what they eat. People spend a lot of time apologizing, for the food choices they’ve made, for the things they crave, and especially for their bodies. Too big, too slow, too weak, too small—I hear so many apologies for shape, size and ability. Many people carry around good/bad binaries surrounding food; oftentimes, their conceptions were shaped very early in life, by caretakers or peers and the way their appetites were criticized.

I’m both heartened by how much we share in our experience of food and saddened by how universal these issues of shame, regret, and struggle are. I feel sorry that eating is so often complicated, be it for practical, socioeconomic, or psychosocial reasons.

What motivates me in the work is the fact that, at least once in each counseling session, I see a patient or client’s face light up in describing something positive about eating. It might be a memory of something delicious, the happy surprise of discovering that a healthful food is much tastier than was assumed, the pride and reward people feel when dietary changes lead to health improvement, or the relief they express when their experiences are acknowledged and validated.

In any of these cases, I feel deeply lucky to be present and to bear witness. This rotation is reminding me of how difficult and tricky nutrition counseling can be, but it’s also giving me daily reminders of why I love to do it. And it’s making me excited for next fall, when I’ll be doing it on my own again.

I’ll be taking my meals with a sense of appreciation for our shared experiences with food this week. Wishing you some good eats. Here are my recipe picks and reading links!

Recipes

Green apple in guacamole! I’d never have thought of this, but I love the idea.

Pretty much drooling over Cadry’s vegan reuben. It looks so authentic, right down to the marble rye!

If I didn’t already love falafel enough, here’s a version that’s stuffed with vegan feta (made with Violife cheese, which is pretty great).

An umami-packed vegan miso mushroom bowl from the talented Ania.

Finally, and just in time for Valentine’s Day, the prettiest vegan chocolate cupcakes.

Reads

1. New research suggests that vegetarian diets might boost insulin sensitivity.

2. A really interesting article on the science that underlies loneliness. It’s a topic that hits close to home for me, and I like the author’s suggestion that loneliness is part of life, but that there are ways we can choose not to be crippled by it.

3. A very interesting new study points to links between metabolic factors and the risk of developing eating disorders. This is news to me, but I was interested to read that prolonged low body weight/BMI in childhood may be linked to higher rates of anorexia nervosa. I’d be curious to see more research on this, but the findings definitely help to explain why and how EDs can develop very early in life (before social pressures to diet would be prevalent).

4. I enjoyed this essay on the power and meaning of rituals. Especially this line: “Tiny, everyday rituals are a hand-crafted prayer to domestic order, beckoning the divine to step inside a moment.”

5. Perhaps I’m biased—rutabaga is one of my favorite vegetables—but I loved Alicia Kennedy’s tribute to the humble root (and the recipe that accompanies it).

Most of my breakfasts this winter have been in the form of baked oats, which I prep over the weekend and enjoy with fresh fruit and/or nut butter before leaving for work. This week, though, I’m returning to my savory breakfast roots with the leftovers of a favorite tofu scallion scramble. I’m sharing the recipe (long overdue!) in a couple days. Till then, be well.

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gardencityvegans · 5 years

Text

Weekend Reading, 2.10.19

https://www.thefullhelping.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/weekend_reading.jpg

I’ll be taking my meals with a sense of appreciation for our shared experiences with food this week. Wishing you some good eats. Here are my recipe picks and reading links!

Recipes

Green apple in guacamole! I’d never have thought of this, but I love the idea.

Pretty much drooling over Cadry’s vegan reuben. It looks so authentic, right down to the marble rye!

If I didn’t already love falafel enough, here’s a version that’s stuffed with vegan feta (made with Violife cheese, which is pretty great).

An umami-packed vegan miso mushroom bowl from the talented Ania.

Finally, and just in time for Valentine’s Day, the prettiest vegan chocolate cupcakes.

Reads

1. New research suggests that vegetarian diets might boost insulin sensitivity.

5. Perhaps I’m biased—rutabaga is one of my favorite vegetables—but I loved Alicia Kennedy’s tribute to the humble root (and the recipe that accompanies it).

[Read More ...] https://www.thefullhelping.com/weekend-reading-2-10-19/

#infrared #health

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just-searchiing-blog · 6 years

Text

What a fucking trip

I forgot that this page existed.

It’s been a wild couple of years. Fuck me.

Mum’s build a fucking house. Like a brand new house and she’s killing it. Currently over in America for a few weeks, filling her cup with all the goodness and joy life has to over. Never been so proud of someone in my life.

Last year was fucking crazy for everyone. We were surrounded by so much death. Firstly, Granddad passed away. He was the absolute cornerstone of the family and really, Mum’s ultimate sounding board and confidant, especially since Grandma passed, so it’s been really rough on Mum - even though she doesn’t show it. But, I mean. It must be so hard losing both parents. There was a decent gap between Granddad and Grandma, about seven years. Granddad was always lost after Grandma passed, but he was still the head of the family. Christmas last year was so weird without him being there, sitting at the head of the table, but I guess that’s life now.

The process was horrific though, he was diagnosed with cancer and although it was relatively short, the last few months were really bad.

Once he was in respite care it really hit home. I don’t want to go into details of his passing, but rather reflect on how hilarious it was, because he would appreciate that. All the cousins camped out for the last few days and in the end, sort of run crazy in the building. There was one night where me and three of my younger cousins were the last ones standing and we were huddled around the little shitty coffee making area and we all just started laughing, completely jacked on coffee. We were just making the darkest possible jokes and we all just lost control. I mean, picture it in your head. We are LITERALLY surrounded by dying people, its 3am in the morning and we can’t stop laughing.

The funeral was sad and the weeks that followed were sad. But we all stuck together, just like Granddad and Grandma taught us... and in a way, I guess that’s what makes the current situation so sad. Mum’s sort of holding the family together right now because her other siblings don’t really want to talk to each other, in fact they hate each other - both have decent reasons and both are as childish as each other.

When Granddad passed I remember Mum saying that it was the beginning of the end, because he was the thing that held everyone together.. I told her not to be stupid, but as usual, it turns out that she was right, and that makes me so sad.

Family functions always made me so happy - especially Christmas, I really hope it all doesn’t change but it seems like it will and that makes me so, terribly sad.

Some of my best memories are from hanging with the whole family. From growing up and playing minions in the backyard and coming up with other random games, to now all being old enough to drink and play beer pong. It will honestly crush me if things change.

Aside from Granddad, we also lost Fran, Inge and George all in the space of about 5 months. It was just so painful to watch people I cared about go through so much pain, especially when there was nothing that I could do to fix it. We all just had to go through it and be there for each other on the other side. I know death is part of life, but I’m fucking over it. I’m over funerals. I’m over losing people that I care about and I’m extremely over watching people I love and care about in pain. It just fucking sucks.

The oldest person in my family is now only something like 57. No Grandparents left. Life is crazy.

Through everything over the last few years, I can definitely say that I’ve not only grown but also grown to understand myself better.

I’ve worked in my producer role now for nearly three years and have finally given my notice.

I loved working there and the work was easy and enjoyable, but I absolutely stagnated, I lost enjoyment and cared less. This has been a long time coming and is probably at least six months overdue, but I’m finally doing it and it feels right.

I’ve already started studying and I’m really enjoying it. (Essay writing can get properly fucked though)

My goal posts have shifted and thats alright.

I know that I don’t want to be a producer long term, but It’s taught me so much about myself over the last three years that I certainly can’t look back on the experience in regret, but it’s absolutely time to do something else.

I think I still want to produce my own content down the track in some degree, but I think I’ve matured a bit and no longer want to be the centre of attention (thank god) and I actually thrive on the idea of building and cultivating the skills that will eventually enable me to take the reigns of an organisation or sporting club and push it in the right direction. I also want to tell not only athlete stories but everyday stories. I think it’s important and it’s something that I get a lot out of. I love understanding and learning how people tick. What motivates them and what drives them.

I’m actually looking forward to the next few years. I’m looking forward to working a dead end/boring job and not driving three hours a day. I’m looking forward to being bored and letting my creativity flow. It’s crazy that the best ideas come from just being bored out of your brains, but it’s so true. The last few years have just been spent working pretty much 6 days a week and driving ALOT. Many good things have come out of it, but also many things have been lost because of it.

I know I’m doing the right thing, but it still makes me nervous. I’m going to grow so much from leaving and learning more things & going down different paths. But change is always scary, for everyone. But if you don’t change, you stay the same, you get comfortable and you don’t grow. I’m 26. Not growing anymore for 50+ years is more terrifying than leaving this job.

Nothing has really changed in my mindset, if anything it’s grown to be more resolute. YOU know what you need and what you want to do. YOU know what is good for you and YOU know what you need to do to grow. YOU just have to have the balls to follow it, no matter what that means or no matter what it means you have to leave behind. So many people get comfortable in a place in life and settle. They forget to be risk takers, they forget to be daydreamers. They get that comfy 9-5, they get the pay cheque and the pay off the mortgage. They stop living, they stop chasing, they stop dreaming.

I don’t want that, I can’t allow that. There is so much left for me to do. I HAVE SEEN IT. I just have to keep pushing. Keep learning, keep chasing and I’ll eventually be fulfilled.

The Universe WANTS you to succeed. YOU have a path and it’s a path that only YOU can follow. You have to be stubborn enough to chase it.

If I sat back and looked at it holistically, I would say that I have had ore failures thus far than I have had successes. I still haven’t travelled. I don’t own a house, I don’t have a career that I want to chase for the next 25 years. But I’m okay with it. And I wouldn’t change my path for one that is deemed more successful If I had the chance.

Because my path has taught me many lessons. About myself and about life, and the fact that I’m awake to these lessons and eager to learn from them, mean that I will be more successful in the future than I would’ve been if I took the easy path and settled into a position. At the Real Estate place, or the producer role, or If I studied straight out of school. Whatever the other options were.

I know that family is everything. I know that money corrupts and creates greed. I know that I’d rather have a smaller inner circle than a large general circle. I know that I’d rather be 110% myself than whatever society deems to be correct. I would rather laugh at things that society says I shouldn’t.

I know that the opinions of the majority don’t matter to me if the people on the inner circle give me the thumbs up.

I know that it’s more important to have respect for yourself than have a pay cheque.

I know that it’s not only important to follow your dreams but that you CAN achieve ANYTHING you want if you go after it.

I know that the universe will give if YOU give.

I know that I can solve stress with meditation or exercises and I’ll instantly feel better.

I know that cleaning your room when you’re feeling stressed and overwhelmed can make you feel better and clearer than any medication can.

I know that surrounding yourself with GOOD people can fix any life issue.

I know that Fortnite wins are hard to come by

And I know that I am currently half crying and half smiling.

It’s 2:30am. I’m properly drunk. And Reflection is good for the soul.

Writing goals is more powerful than anything else you will do. if you write a list of things down that you HAVE to do tomorrow and you cross them off as you do them, the moment you cross off the last one, you will feel INCREDIBLE.

You always have to remind yourself that small progress is progress and daily progress leads to big progress and big progress leads to growth and growth leads to evolution. Just keep going. Write down FIVE things each day that you HAVE to achieve and you will start building momentum and before you know it, that momentum will turn into a snowball and you will become an unstoppable force.

As Tim Ferris says... Start each day by making your bed, use it as one of your daily goals. “Today I will make my bed before I leave the house”

It will take less than 45 seconds but it will make the WORLD of difference because it helps to build MOMENTUM.

Just DECIDE what you want to do and set yourself GOALS to achieve it. Daily goals, monthly goals, yearly goals until you’ve achieved it.

It’s not rocket science. Just DECIDE, ACT and be FUCKING CONSISTENT.

BELIEVE in the path and you’ll make it. Nothing will make you feel better within yourself, than achieving the little shitty goals that no one knows about.

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oovitus · 5 years

Text

Weekend Reading, 2.10.19

I’ll be taking my meals with a sense of appreciation for our shared experiences with food this week. Wishing you some good eats. Here are my recipe picks and reading links!

Recipes

Green apple in guacamole! I’d never have thought of this, but I love the idea.

Pretty much drooling over Cadry’s vegan reuben. It looks so authentic, right down to the marble rye!

If I didn’t already love falafel enough, here’s a version that’s stuffed with vegan feta (made with Violife cheese, which is pretty great).

An umami-packed vegan miso mushroom bowl from the talented Ania.

Finally, and just in time for Valentine’s Day, the prettiest vegan chocolate cupcakes.

Reads

1. New research suggests that vegetarian diets might boost insulin sensitivity.

5. Perhaps I’m biased—rutabaga is one of my favorite vegetables—but I loved Alicia Kennedy’s tribute to the humble root (and the recipe that accompanies it).

The post Weekend Reading, 2.10.19 appeared first on The Full Helping.

Weekend Reading, 2.10.19 published first on

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