#i painted these both at the beginning of covid

[kate-inhaler-1975]

I loved your last dad!Matty blurb so much that I couldn't help but spiral into thinking about Rosie and her relationship with her Uncle's.

Like, I need to know who her favourite is and all the little adventures they have 😭😭

Pls feed us I'm begging!!!

NEW DAD MATTY UNIVERSE BLURB TIME❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️

Now, where do I begin….RIGHT! COVID BABY!!!!

Even though Rosie was a Covid baby, Matty and George were in enough distance of each other to be able to sit in the garden or to have him talk through the window (you weren’t okay with ANYONE coming into the house because there’s no way you were risking lil Rosie getting Covid) so Rosie wasn’t shy when it came to George’s presence.

In those moments George was so riddled with pride because he convinced himself he was going to be her number one Uncle….but that was until Rosie was introduced to Ross 😭😭

Rosie and Ross, the two R’s, the best friends, the partners in crime. To Rosie, Ross is her best friend. Even when she grows up and she’s a teen, he’s always the one she runs to when she feels like she can’t tell you or Matty about something.

But now, in present day, they’re the sweetest and silliest little duo.

Rosie wants an ice cream?

He’ll buy her an entire ice cream van.

Rosie wants to have a sleepover?

He gets her favourite snacks and makes sure the spare room is full of Rosie’s favourite things and that she’s 110% comfortable.

And then Ross’ favourite thing to do?

Oh yeah, he LOVES and I mean LOVES telling Matty off if Matty ever has to tell Rosie off (which is very rare).

Ross does be like “Matty, shut up! She’s only little, and she doesn’t fully understand! Come on Ro, let’s get away from this evil man” and lifts her up and takes her to catering at whatever arena they’re at to get a lil treat because Matty made her cry LOL.

You think it’s hilarious but Matty is so unimpressed that Ross is painting him to be an “evil man” and he’s shitting bricks that Rosie will actually turn on him 😭😭.

She spends a lot of time with Adam as well, especially since herself and Baby Hann are so close in age. So there’s a lot of play dates, and now because of their ages they have sleepovers and it’s just so cute seeing them get along so well and it’s the best thing ever that they both can have a built in best friend their own age.

I know you didn’t mention it anon, but oh my god does she love feeling like a part of the girl gang when it comes to you and her aunties!!

She’s known Carly and Charli her whole life, so both you and Matty were a big apprehensive about how she would react to meeting Chloe for the first time, but all she did was stare at her in awe and then whispered to you shyly “she’s so beautiful, mummy” making your heart burst and making Chloe nearly cry when you told her later.

Rosie’s always coming to little brunch and dinner dates with you and the girls (unless it’s a boozy brunch, in that case she’s stuck playing mortal combat with her dad, uncles and Baby Hann) and Charli loves spoiling Rosie by taking her into the heart of London and taking her to little afternoon teas.

Just pure love and pure cuteness all round and the love between Rosie and her Aunties and Uncles are VERY mutual 😭🥰

#matty healy #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x reader #george daniel #ross macdonald #dad!matty #dad!matty blurb #dad!mattyhealy #Adam Hann #trumanblack #truman black #matty healy blurb #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic

[bonesandthebees]

I would love some makeup and skincare tips if you're willing :)

-🌼

of course!! (these answers are very general/assuming you're starting from the very beginning. if you want more specific advice lmk just give me more specific questions)

so I've talked about skincare on here before so I'll put that at the bottom of this ask, and I'll start with make up instead this time

makeup takes a learning curve to figure out how to use. there's no getting around that. it took years for me to figure out makeup stuff and I started playing around with it when I was only 12-13ish. don't feel embarrassed if your makeup doesn't turn out how you want. depending on what you're doing, you're basically learning how to paint but, like, really specifically and only on your face. it takes practice and that's ok! if you're embarrassed about people seeing you with makeup on, just do it alone in your room. the only reason I got good at winged eyeliner was because I made myself do makeup every day during the first quarantine era of covid so that I'd have a daily routine established and wouldn't just sit in pajamas in bed all day. I wasn't going out at all, so I made myself do winged eyeliner every time bc I knew no one was gonna see it, and it didn't take long for me to get good at it. so practice when you're alone and wipe it off when you're done. you'll figure it out eventually.

now as far as what kind of makeup to do on your face. well, that depends on what you're trying to achieve with makeup. do you want to cover up acne? do you want to do fun eyeshadow and eyeliner? do you want to enhance your natural features? if you're completely new to makeup I'd recommend starting with the basics of just trying to enhance your natural features. that's usually very simple and easy makeup that'll help you learn the foundations of it all so you can build up from there.

'natural' makeup routines that you read about online are probably going to consist of some kind of tinted moisturizer, maybe some concealer, maybe mascara, and probably a bit of blush. it depends on how much you want to do. if you're going for something with more coverage to cover up acne, look for foundation instead of tinted moisturizer.

if you're just starting out you're probably going to want to go for drugstore makeup instead of the expensive stuff. maybelline anti-age rewind multi-use concealer has been my go to concealer for years now. elf as a whole is a really low-priced and generally well recommended makeup brand with a lot of variety to what they sell. for whichever product you're trying to get, tbh just google 'best drugstore brand [insert product here]' and you'll find a ton of magazine articles pop up with recommendations.

last tips for now. here's what you don't need when you're just starting out: primer (you are probably not going to be doing heavy daily makeup right off the bat it's not worth it in that case). look, I know everyone talks about primer being amazing. but I basically never use foundation or tinted moisturizer, I just use concealer. so it's very unnecessary for me. later on you might find you need it, but at the start I promise you don't

hope that helps with some makeup stuff! skincare info below!

okay so for skincare, I've found that it's easiest to build a routine one step at a time. don't feel like you have to rush into everything all at once. first get into the habit of washing your face every morning and night if you don't already. make sure you have a good facial cleanser that's suited to your skin type (please don't use body soap for your face). cetaphil and cerave are both very highly rated drugstore skincare brands that have a lot of options for face cleansers for all skin types (oily, dry, sensitive, etc). then you need a moisturizer. again, I recommend either cetaphil or cerave to start off with bc of their low price point and how highly rated their products are. I use cetaphil daily face cleanser and cetaphil's daily oil free moisturizer with spf 35. definitely try to get one with spf in it because sun protection is the other essential part of a bare bones skincare routine. when looking for a face moisturizer, try to go for ones that say they're non-comedogenic which means they won't clog your pores. oil-free is probably preferable too especially if you have acne.

after you have the basics you can get into other stuff! this stuff is going to depend on what skin issues you have. there are a whole lot of serums out there you can look into (niacinamide I think is one of the best serums for most skin types and you can get a bottle of it from both good molecules or the ordinary for like $6). different serums are formulated to target different things, so again try to google stuff to see what might be most helpful for you. skincare brands besides cetaphil and cerave that I think are good to start out with is the ordinary (high quality at a very low price) and good molecules. neutrogena also has some pretty good products, and I really love elf's eye cream. but if you're really unsure where to start, the ordinary has an online quiz you can take on your site which will recommend products to you based off what you say your skin issues are, so even if you don't end up buying anything from them that can give you an idea of what products to start looking at.

#ask #daisy anon #skincare #makeup tips #skincare tips

[the-hornedwitch]

Utinam Ne Illum Numquam Conspexissem

Part Two: Good Morning Lucifer

Note: As I said before. What I speak of is my own personal walk and experience. I am speaking from my soul.

When "They" (Those who wrote the books) say "He" enjoys predawn and early morning rituals, "They" mean it. Call it intuition, call it stupidity, Hell could be "His" influence, there came a point in my wanderings I got the very bold notion to Greet the Morning. I did so in a simple fashion for a time. As I started my day I would face the East, watch the Sun rise. Breathing in the cool morning air. Breathing out, "Good Morning Lucifer". Waiting, listening and just being in the moment.

I did this for a time, I couldn't tell you how long. It became a routine, a mild meditation of sorts. I was blessed with a job that had me up and out the door before the sun woke up. A job that had me outside before 7am. A job I could walk around outside, and just be for an hour or so. Seeing the opportunity for what it was, I incorporated the greeting. Deciding it was far better then sitting in my car, waiting for the day to start by mindlessly scrolling through the social media's.

As I built my routine, and navigated both spiritual and mundane there came a morning that brought me out of my Agnostic and mildly atheist views.

I stood as I often did, facing east, focusing on my breathing and where my mind was wondering. Focused on the awakening Dawn, and said. "Good Morning Lucifer"

There came a slight breeze and the feelings I had felt during my candle ritual resurfaced. I couldn't help the sudden onset of Flyleafs lyrics of. "I can feel you all around me, circling, in the air I'm breathing." Repeat in my head. (Yeah I know, don't judge me)

Then;

"Good Morning"

It wasn't "spoken", not whispered in my ear through the trees or wind. It was vibrating in my sacral, heart and third eye. *oh shit*

To say I did not have a school girl moment would be an utter lie. I did not screech like a 14 year old at a Jonas Brothers concert (or how I simped over Datth Vader at Disneyland that one time) no, I got *shy*.

Eons old Deity who has seen the rise and fall of man a thousand times over, The Dark Lord whom many meet at a crossroads to bargain their souls. Just said "Good Morning " yeah, I had a moment.

As time continued, so did my ritual. I wish to keep my mundane life away from this telling as much as possible, but as I write I have realized things will overlap from time to time. I won't go into gritty detail (my memory is shit due to prolonged stress) I do know this; things where shifting for me. The rose colored glass where coming off and I was beginning to see parts of my life for what they were, except for one. My relationship.

As covid spread and became a talking point, I became very nervous. (However you feel about all that is yours I'm not here to debate anything)

Despite the outside world and the pandemic I continued my morning ritual. Incidentally, I was blessed to have my kitchen window facing east. Little changed in my routine, except instead of being outside I sat at my table with the kitchen window open and sipped my coffee.

Contagion and being ill has always been a stressful thing for me. Their is a lot of childhood trauma around illness for me, let's leave it that.

Eventually I bought an altar cloth for Lucifer, The Morning Star. Hanging it in the window, which my (ex)Husband seemed alright with. He was a night owl, often worked the overnight shift and was dead to the world once home. The mood shifted however when I painted a sigil for Lucifer, and hung it on the wall. The (ex) husband's demeanor shifted when I spent more time in my craft.

*photo is my own, taken that day*

#satanism #theistic satanism #left hand path #satanic #witchcraft #demonolatry #lucifer

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: The Residents by Matthew J. Friday

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/the-residents-by-matthew-j-friday/

The Residents begins with the author’s arrival at the height of the COVID pandemic and explores his new #life as a US resident. The #poems reflect on this new journey and study what being a resident means for other people, flora and fauna. While #Oregon’s inhabitants and #landscape form the basis of many poems, others explore residency in a wider sense, crossing borders near and far away.

Matthew James Friday is a British born writer and teacher. He has an MA in Creative Writing from Goldsmith College, University of London. He has had many poems published in US and international journals from all corners of the world. He has published numerous micro-chapbooks with the Origami Poems Project (US). Matthew is a Pushcart Prize nominated poet. The Residents is his first chapbook. More of his writing can be found at: http://matthewfriday.weebly.com

PRAISE FOR The Residents by Matthew J. Friday

We have been honored to publish Matthew Friday‘s poetry. So I am delighted to celebrate this chapbook of his poems—rich in imagery, voice, and a delightful playfulness with language. The poems connect the conscious mind with the heart ( what Mary Oliver says poetry can do).

–Kimberly Hill Campbell, Editor of Oregon English Journal

The Residents challenges me to look into the world and to realize that I’m connected to it. With depth and weight, Friday’s lyrics exalt the ordinary natural world into something I can grapple and hum with. The Residents is a subtle hurricane of poems that illuminate the mysteries and paradoxes we all might experience while getting a haircut or visiting a pumpkin field, wondering why. Friday writes from a place high above, encompassing all that the land has to offer, yet not so high that he misses pumpkin seeds, hummingbirds, and Easter eggs. These poems are offerings my soul gladly accepts. In the Residents, Friday brings the reader through a glorious expedition of the natural world and that which transcends it. His poems paint lucid images of the natural, while inviting the reader to contemplate the unknown. These poems are a call for awareness in a world that might be too sleepy to wake up. I’ve been a reader of Matthew’s poetry for years, and this collection is his best yet.

–Mike Leyland, School Library Media coordinator, Craven County Schools.

Matthew’s collection of poetry, The Residents, connects the reader with the beauty and power of the natural world, the strangeness of modern life and our alternately sweet or disconnected fellow human beings. He writes with empathy and self-awareness of all he encounters, finding poetic elements in the smallest gestures and actions, as well as the ancient forces of the planet that will outlast us and our temporary dramas. Desperate migrants, unfair privilege, flying birds, rushing water, random hardship, bureaucratic paperwork, a child’s joy in jumping in puddles, unexpected connections between people from different parts of the world—all combine to capture the imagination and stimulate recognition of our shared humanity. Classical literary and mythological references flow through the observations of physics and earth science juxtaposed with human actions, both positive and negative, that in the end are only momentary. Above all, Matthew’s words capture fleeting moments that make life more beautiful in the midst of our current world.

–Vivienne Blake,Librarian, EF Academy New York

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

#poetry #flp authors #preorder #flp #poets on tumblr #chapbook #chapbooks #finishing line press #small press

[blue-kyber]

I dont get all the posting about Caesar and AI but when will Test of Will update again? Miss your updates + whoever hurt you sounds like a fuggin douche you should call cops

No, no. No cop-calling.

Yes, I am emotionally eviscerated from the whiplash betrayal and shattered trust from someone whose opinion I once respected, and someone I once called 'friend.'

It's incredibly hard for me to make friends to begin with. I wasn't going to join the server, but my therapist said I make an effort to make friends, so I took a chance. I opened myself up to being hurt again.

And like usual, it happened.

I had tried hard to not upset anyone.

The betrayal, the stab in the back, the ban, and the final message days later cutting me off permanently with a civil goodbye shoved that dagger through my heart again.

I am very angry, and very hurt, and crying. But I will get over it.

I felt like I was walking on eggshells in that server around everyone anyway, afraid that anything I said or did would trigger one of them.

So it's probably best that I'm out. I don't need that.

I am not a bad person. I hate confrontation. I hate drama. I avoid both like the plague.

When I'd thought I'd made a friend after trying for years to find someone who would stay, I was happy. I'd thought I'd found it with them. I was genuinely happy. That's why I was trying so hard to not cause waves. That's why I deferred to their ideas most of the time in fear of losing them.

I lost them anyway, because I had one meltdown day where I blew up at everything.

I'm human and I screwed up. I accept that.

I have RSD. What I feel is amplified 10x beyond someone who doesn't have it. That's why I'm so easily hurt, why I've been working on controlling that hurt, and why I actively avoid people and situations that cause that hurt.

When I was blocked, that was a stab to the chest. I wanted an answer as to what I'd done, so I asked for one. That was the wong move apparently. The escalation they caused kept hurting me more and more and more as I kept apologizing, trying to end it.

I was muted for trying to apologize and end it.

I expressed extreme hurt over that. I posted in anger, and then realized I'd screwed up, and deleted the post.

They banned me because I'd kept trying to apologize, and because I'd messed up with that post. They didn't' care that I was TRYING to set things right. It was all about them. Their boundaries. Their feelings. Their upset. I became the bad guy, and they turned me into a pariah over the AI thing - which they wouldn't let me explain to begin with. I became a target for their insecurities as they threw false accusations, fabricated drama to justify their own actions - that never needed to shoot to a high level - and dragged up old issues to paint me in as a villain - when all I ever tried to do was stop all of this while staying calm and apologizing. At that point, I should have fought back, because I was being needlessly attacked over tiny things that they blew out of proportion. But I took the high ground, even though inside I was bleeding.

I'm convinced they were looking for a reason to kick me out.

I was not being disrespectful.

Yeah, they annoyed the hell out of me, but the difference between being an adult and being a child is the ability to not outwardly expressing it. The difference is recognizing when you're wrong, and admitting it instead of digging your heels in due to wounded pride and a perceived threat to your life. The difference is being goaded into situations that will escalate if you participate, and choosing not to participate.

Children don't know how to de-escalate. Only escalate. And gen Z is bad at this. I blame the years of Covid that inhibited their social exposure and growth. So I can't blame them. Their caretakers are the ones who should have taught them.

These are children. A couple of them may be over the age of 18, but as stated above in behavior, the adults were children.

I tried to show them how to handle that and be the adult by example.

I took accountability for my actions.

I didn't make excuses for myself.

I fucked up, and I owned up to it.

I issued apologies without a defense attached to them - the correct way to apologize. I openly gave them the power to accept it.

They did not.

3 days later, I get a friend request. Thinking they're going to apologize, and that we can have a rational conversation to work out this rough spot in a new friendship, I accepted it.

It turned out to be a 'let's let bygone be bygones and go our separate ways forever. Don't call me, I won't call you' type of civil message.

They blocked me again before I even had a chance to reply.

Stabbing me all over again.

I know it was a civil message, but it still fuckin' hurt, because it's so final - so Exiled.

One rough spot in a friendship was too much for them to work through, they couldn't handle it, so they Blocked instead. I was willing to fight for it. They weren't.

It's possible they never learned how regulate themselves to fight for a friendship.

That means it wasn't a friendship at all. They even said in the letter, "I don't want to make friends." Well, then why did they invite me to join the server if they didn't want to make friends?

They wanted to use me for what I create. They unjustifiably hurt me - the entire server did - threw me out crying "Horrible person! We're victims!" and consume what I create while simultaneously hating me, shutting me out, ignoring me, and likely believing I'm still the villain.

It was all about how they felt. Their comfort. Their boundaries. Them not being upset. Not mine. Not respecting anything about mine. Because why should I matter? I'm not a person. I pump out the content they consume.

If there was a way to hide it, I would.

But I'm bigger than that. I'm more mature than them. I'm taking the high road and leave it open.

But 3 days later, sending a friend request to someone you had an argument with just to tell you that the friendship is through under the belief of lies... Even out of context, that's messed up. Well, I got my answer.

I forgive too easily. I always have. So what I was going to say to them if they had given me a chance to respond was this:

"Thank you for contacting me. Monday was one hell of a day. Emotions were high on all sides. We were both stressed - are both stressed out. Very stressed out. Stress has a way of compromising people. Things were said that shouldn't have been said. Issues that ended were escalated, and should have been left alone.

Misunderstandings happen. I'd like to tell you my side of the story without any rants, raves, arguments, or venting if you're willing to listen and let me explain. I want you to understand where I'm coming from, and I want you to help me understand where you're coming from, and why things blew up so this doesn't happen again. Let's sit down and talk - rationally and calmly with open minds. Please let's have that chance."

I am willing to talk, and forgive, and come to an understanding.

They clearly are not.

I left them unblocked as a show of goof faith.

I will not be contacting them again. If they want to talk, they'll have to come to me - though I'm certain that will never happen.

So that's it.

It's over.

If they comment on "A Test of Will," I will do as I'd always done; I will like it, and reply positively - happy to hear their thoughts and their take. Because that is the truth. I honestly do look forward to their comments. I'm going to miss seeing them if they stop.

So.....

That being said...

I wish them well, that they take care of themselves, and that they have a good life.

This is the last time I will ever talk about this or mention them from here on out.

If anyone responds to this bringing this up to start a fight, I will not respond.

It's officially over.

I won't have anything to do with toxic people who do not respect my boundaries, and refuse to admit when they've done something wrong.

-----

Now that that's over...

*deep breath* As for "A Test of Will" updating, I posted chapter 15 two days ago.

Here's a link.

Please enjoy. :)

((Oh, for everyone who's not in on this story, it's a safe vore fan fiction for an original story. Safe vore involves elements of guarding someone, protecting or being protected, caring, no harm, no gore, no death, no cruelty. No fetish. No sex. No kink involved. Nothing NSFW except for the fact that it's vore, and thus stigmatized. A lot of hurt/comfort. Weird, with some gross moments, but hurt/comfort. The whole premise of the story is one person healing another.

This is the ONLY type of vore I like. The rest make me uncomfortable, and honesty scare me. Why do you think I'm still disturbed and having nightmares about those scenes from NOPE that I should have never watched, and I'm still hearing those screams of suffering, imagining them over and over and can't sleep and can hardly eat? I can't handle that shit. I'm an HSP (highly sensitive person). I can't handle horror - especially something that viscerally terrifying. I really wish I could forget I ever saw it. Curiosity didn't pay off this time.

The topic of vore is uncomfortable for a lot of people, so if you click on the story, know that's what it is. And that it's the safe, soft kind. :) ))

[feartheoldblog]

ok here goes i guess. full disclaimer ghost is the only band i have a shirt of so uh yeah i think their music is ok. also your post reminded me they have a new ep i havent listened to yet so ive been playing that all day.

the chronology is kind of split up by album so ill go by that

Opus Eponymous (good fucking metal album):

So ghost started out as a concept band of over-the-top tongue-in-cheek anonymous satan worshippers. That has since changed for a couple reasons I'll get into. Anonymity was a big thing for the first few albums, every song was credited as written by a "nameless ghoul" and they all wore masks and the frontman wore corpse paint and i think some facial prosthetics so you couldnt tell who anyone was. Of course some people had guesses (and they turned out to be right lmao). The frontman was called Papa Emeritus and he wore like evil satan antipope clothes and shit. There's also this whole "Clergy" thing which is like the satanic church ghost represents - they're also a band in lore, and their goal is to gain converts by getting fans through the music.

Infestissumam (my favorite album):

Papa Emeritus 1 was an old man and one day he died. I think. Or he retired or something. So to release the new album, we got Papa Emeritus 2, who was Papa 1's younger brother (still like in his 40s or 50s or so). It was still obviously the same guy behind the makeup but who cares its lore baby. I think they actually summoned satan? There's a reading of the first two albums as concepts of a group doing evil magic devil summoning and then a world where the antichrist is actually walking around doing stuff. Anyway I don't remember Papa 2 doing much.

Meliora (their best album but not my favorite. ):

Papa 2 got taken out behind the shed or something i wasnt really into the lore at this point. Being into Ghost and being into the lore is two very different things, you really gotta be paying attention to be in on the lore. Papa Emeritus 3 debuts with this album, which also marks the band's beginning of their shift towards a more poppy sound (the is Ghost metal? debate has been waged for years by the worst metal fans in the world [on both sides] and all i have to say is if you need music to fall into a definition of your preferred genre in order to like it you don't like music, you like putting things in boxes and sounding smart). Papa 3 was the youngest brother, and he was big into the limelight and rockstar image in a way his more serious older brothers were not. This was also a height of their popularity anecdotally (i swear i heard square hammer on the radio once). Papa 3 was a slut, he was absolutely the one to fuck with socks on. Which is funny, cause I had never heard that bit about him fucking with socks on but I do know a guy in real life who fucked with socks on. Crazy.

Prequelle (came out right before covid lmao their weakest album though imo):

Papa 3 was abducted by goons right at the end of their big tour. oh no what happened? They started putting out "Message from the Clergy" videos on their youtube (might still be there) which introduced our boy Cardinal Copia (not a member of the family) who was a mousy little clergyman, and Papa 0 who was like the head of the church (and a few nuns i forget their names). Also in one of those videos all 3 former Papas were killed (they were alive? huh). Prequelle is also where the lawsuit happened which, uh, was a big fucking mess to put it lightly. Band members of the previous three albums were arguing with the frontman about pay (which was an issue cause like i said before, all the songs were credited to an anonymous ghoul), and like limb bizkit says its all about the he said she said bullshit. anyway they had to break the anonymity to go to court, so people learned that the frontman was actually Tobias Forge (formerly of Subvision). This was the prevailing theory by the way not the hugest surprise. I'm not going to get into details of the trial (cause i forget really) but im sure you can find it on the fuckin sweden legal database or whatever. Anyway, the band did kind of break up over this - some of the original longtime members left and Forge continued with the name Ghost and a rotating group of musicians.

Impera (impera is good but when i listened to it i was also having kind of a major depressive episode so that may have affected my opinion):

This is where I largely fell out of the Ghost lore loop. I hear Copia got promoted to Papa 4 which is good for him, nice kid. He's in like his 40s too i think.

They're kinda like the Four Kings cause a new one comes in when the old one dies and if you don't do enough damage there's actually 5 of them. and their music sucks

THE FOUR KINGS REF 😭😭😭

ghost WISH they could have a cultural impact as profound as dark souls 1’s four kings battle and boss theme

thank you for the proper run down i was fighting for my life trying to piece everything together from the shreds i could find (i refuse to watch a 40 minute youtube video sorry i’m stubborn). it literally reminded me of when i first played bb and was like ‘what the fuck happened’, went researching and ended up even more confused.

also you’re so real for your comment on forcing music into really specific categories. why can’t people just enjoy something without arguing over stupid shit like that………… rock? metal? nah, they’re just cringe. embrace it and be free.

question to leave bc i’m a souls bro

who would win in a fight: copia or patches dark soul?????

discuss

#asks #this is all light hearted and affectionate btw #the fucking with socks on haunts me for personal reasons #papa no three please stop #well ig he’s stopped cuz he’s dead #i started watching the message from the clergy vids n they’re so silly i love them

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #8: Roe me down river

Words:  ca. 6,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: no Content: mentions of drug and alcohol use, abortion Image: Link

+++ 

Anna sat down on the edge of the tub. Her leg bounced as she chewed at her lip and fiddled with the tiny plastic stick in her hand.

“You need to breathe,” Elsa said. She was leaning on the door frame, her arms folded across her chest.

“What if it comes back positive?” Anna mumbled, not taking her eyes off the object in her hands, as if that would make time go by faster.

“Then, we’ll figure it out, together.”

A ding from Elsa’s pocket caught both of their attention. Anna’s head shot up so fast she was sure she gave herself whiplash.

“It’s not the timer,” Elsa offered, holding up a hand. “Just my news app. I’m sure it’s ‘breaking news’ about another gas price hike or more covid cases because everyone forgot how to use masks.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, nonchalantly unlocking it to check the notifications. Anna watched her only so she would have something else to focus on than the stick in her hand. She watched as Elsa’s face paled, as her eyebrows came together, as her jaw dropped open and hung there agape.

“What is it ?” Anna asked, her mind running through the usual burdens of bad news.

“They fucking…” Elsa let her words drift off and turned away from Anna to walk briskly towards the living room.

Anna leaped up and followed; something horrible had to have happened. She found Elsa at her laptop clicking through news articles so fast that Anna couldn’t read the headlines.

“Elsa,” she prompted, not daring to sit down.

Elsa let out a short harsh breath and glanced at Anna, then back at her screen. She didn’t say anything, just turned the laptop towards Anna so she could see the headline.

‘Roe V. Wade Overturned by Supreme Court.’

Anna’s hand holding the plastic stick started shaking, or perhaps it was her entire body. She tried to open her mouth to say something, but nothing came.

Instead, the silence was broken by a beeping. this time from the timer on Elsa’s phone. Anna closed her eyes, unable to look. She felt a soft hand wrap around her own and take the pregnancy test from her.

“Anna you need to look.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, I’m right here.”

Slowly Anna opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Elsa’s laptop still open and the subheadline that read 'Abortions will now be illegal in 13 states, more are likely to follow’

The next thing she saw, there in Elsa’s hand, was a positive pregnancy test.

+++

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” Anna stated as she paced back and forth in front of the couch where Elsa sat.

“Well, maybe if you sat down for a minute.”

“I can’t sit, I feel angry and scared? I think? I don’t know. My head feels like an ensemble song that was written by Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

Elsa tilted her head to the side. “I’m sorry but what?”

“You know, like there’s a lot going on all at once,” Anna responded.

“You need better metaphors.”

“Yeah well, you can make fun of me later. What are we going to do?” Anna finally stopped moving and plopped down in the worn chair in the corner of the room.

“That depends,” Elsa closed her laptop and crossed one leg over the other. “What do you want to do?”

Anna sighed again and threw her head back, her eyes flicking between the spot they missed while painting and the few rogue cobwebs on the ceiling.

“I want to get a cheeseburger and an overpriced beer in a glass that would make a man cry,” she mumbled without looking at her.

This time Elsa sighed. Anna heard a shifting from the couch followed by soft footsteps. Soon after Elsa’s face appeared in her view, strong pale arms planted firmly on either side of Anna’s head. The older woman’s face was suddenly only a few inches from her own.

On a different day, in a different timeline even, this would have been the beginning of something else. But now, here, Elsa’s stern face, her mouth set in a thin line, and her blue eyes lacking any sparkle – it only served to anchor Anna back to the present. Like a comet coming crashing to earth so too did reality set back in.

“Anna,” Elsa said as if to drive the point further in.

Anna opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. Instead, she just felt her features fall with guilt and shame.

“Anna,” Elsa repeated, this time softer. She leaned down and kissed Anna’s forehead and backed up. Shifting to kneel in front of the chair, she reached toward Anna’s hands but stopped short of grabbing them.

Anna closed the distance, taking Elsa’s perfectly manicured hands in her own. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Elsa slowly nodded, breaking eye contact. “There’s just a lot of things that I wish were different. And I’m glad you’re here and we’re trying to work on things. I really am, but this…” She rubbed her thumb over the back of Anna’s hand.

“I know.”

Elsa’s eyes flicked back to Anna’s. “I want you to know that regardless of where we land, dating,” she exhaled, “not dating. I will still support you. As much as I want to be mad at you, I still love you.”

“I love you too, I didn’t mean for this–” Anna gestured at her stomach. “to happen–”

Elsa let go of Anna and held up a hand. “I don’t want to go over that again right now, it’s too much today after the news and this news.”

Anna nodded and looked down, that guilty feeling rising in her again like floodwaters, threatening to pull her under and drown her. She picked her head up to gasp for air and watched Elsa move back to the couch and open her laptop again.

A few clicks and lo-fi hip-hop started to flow through the speakers around the room. It wasn’t Anna’s taste in music but she was glad for the reprieve from the crushing silence.

Elsa left her laptop and walked out of the room, leaving Anna alone, her thoughts swirling. Maybe the test was wrong, maybe she should take another. Maybe this was all some bad dream and she would wake up and Elsa would be beside her in bed again.

A soft thud on the end table next to her brought Anna out of her thoughts. Elsa had placed a mug of tea next to her, next to the stack of books there. The blonde was already back on the couch. “Thank you,” Anna said plainly.

“You looked like you could use some 'hot leaf juice’ ” Elsa mused, using Anna’s nickname for tea.

Anna smiled and picked up the mug. It felt normal, sitting here in Elsa’s reading chair, drinking tea while music played in the background. It felt like old times, before their fight, before Elsa moved out.  

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Anna announced, standing again, much to the protest of her legs that had since fallen asleep.

“Okay? You don’t need to tell me.” Elsa mumbled, not taking her eyes off the article she was reading.

“Sorry,”

“Here take this with you, it doesn’t belong on the coffee table.” Elsa reached out her arm; in her hand was the pregnancy test once again.

Anna took it and with it, the weight of reality came crashing back in once again. She hurried down the hallway to the bathroom as if she could outrun what was clutched in her hand, what was growing in her own body.

+++

Anna needed to breathe.

She felt suffocated like her face was covered in a thick mask that wouldn’t let air flow easily. She reached up to touch it, her arm draped in a red sleeve. She looked to her left and saw nothing but white, the same to her right. Her heartbeat quickened and sweat beaded on her upper lip.

She opened her mouth to scream but her tongue was gone. She tried to run, only to fall to the ground. It was only when she looked up that she saw them. Hundreds of women, clad in red robes with white hoods.

A man dressed in black military tactical gear approached her. He was unclipping a cattle prod from his belt.

Anna recoiled and shot upright in bed. Drenched in a cold sweat, her breathing was rapid and shallow.

There was a knock at the door causing Anna to jump, her fists gripping the bed sheet.

“Hey, are you alright? I heard screaming.”

It was Elsa, and Anna let out a shaky exhale as she released her grip on her bedding.

“Hey, yeah. Just a bad dream.”

“Can I come in?” it was a question now, instead of a given like it used to be. Anna glanced over at the empty space beside her. They were working on things, but they weren’t there yet.

Breaking was quick, repairing took time.

“Yes,” Anna croaked out, her voice husky from sleep.

The door opened with a soft creek and Elsa stepped inside. She was clad in shorts and a tank top. Her pale skin almost glowed in the dim light leaking in through curtains that never quite closed all the way. She stepped carefully, stopping at the foot of a bed they formally shared. She seemed to be hesitating and Anna anticipated another question but was surprised when Elsa sat down. She pulled her legs up, pivoting to face Anna.

“Do you want to talk about it? This is the fourth night in a row,” Elsa asked; she sounded tired but fully awake. Either Anna had woken her up a while ago or she hadn’t slept yet.

“It’s always the same, there’s nothing to talk about. I just want it to stop.” Anna shifted back so she was leaning against the headboard.

Elsa nodded and fiddled with a loose thread on the duvet. “Maybe you should avoid the news for a little while, till you figure out what you’re going to do.”

“How can I? It’s everywhere and everything is so loud.”

“It’s not in a book,” Elsa held up her hand to stop Anna from protesting. “You can escape to Middle Earth, walk the ring to Mordor.”

“I’m not a nerd, Elsa.” Anna crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

“You are, just a different kind. Would you rather read about orcs and elves than the crumbling state of the world?”

“I would rather walk off a cliff than into Mordor.”

At this Elsa laughed, it had been so long since Anna had heard her laugh. The melody drowned out the guilt for a few precious moments.

Then just like that, the mood shifted and the silence crept in like the early dawn.

“Have you decided what to do with… you know?” Elsa gestured towards Anna.

Anna exhaled and closed her eyes. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

“Is anyone?”

“Dude, I don’t know.” Anna opened her eyes and looked directly at Elsa. “I just know I don’t want to keep it.”

Elsa nodded with an expression that was hard to read. “So that leaves us with two options.”

“Yeah– wait, us?”

“I told you I would support you. And I told you that, despite everything, I still love you.”

“I know I just didn’t think…” Anna looked down at her hands.

“I will tell you as many times as you need me to,” Elsa whispered, almost as if to herself.

“I– Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. Let’s talk about this more in the morning though, it’s late. You need sleep.”

Elsa stood to leave.

“Wait,” Anna called out, causing Elsa to turn. “You can sleep here if you want to.”

Elsa hesitated again. She glanced from the door back to Anna. And Anna waited, not daring to breathe; she couldn’t remember how long it had been since Elsa and her shared a bed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Elsa finally answered and Anna felt her chest fall. “But I’ll sleep in the chair over there okay? Compromise.”

All Anna could do was nod and watch as Elsa crossed the room and settled into the large chair that was essentially a mini couch. It was something Anna got for free from someone at her mom’s church when she first moved into this place.

The church was one of the many places Anna wasn’t allowed in anymore. Coming out to her mother caused those doors to slam faster than the pages of a heavy Bible at the end of mass. Elsa had been there though, Elsa was always there, for years her arms were safety, a shelter from whatever storm Anna was facing. However, Elsa’s arms, just like the church, were no longer an open harbor.

Anna settled back into bed, laying on her side and staring at the wood grain on her nightstand. She was glad Elsa was here, but the woman was confusing, claiming love and support but only at a safe distance – like Anna was a science experiment that could explode at any time. Which was probably fair; Anna was the one who had screwed everything up.

The day Elsa left, she slammed the door behind her, causing a vase full of water to fall off a nearby shelf and spill liquid and glass shards everywhere. It stained the floor and ruined a book Elsa left behind. For a long time, Anna left the stain there, a reminder of what she had lost. She was the one who had ended things, she was the one who broke Elsa’s heart, she was the one who didn’t deserve an unstained floor.

Now that Elsa was back, that they were working on things, Anna put an area rug over the stain. It wasn’t a good rug. They both tripped over it a lot. Patching things between them had been anything but easy. They existed mostly as roommates, dancing on eggshells around each other. When Anna told Elsa she was late and scared to take a test, it had been the most compassion the older woman had shown Anna in months.

Soft snoring from the corner of the room let Anna know Elsa had fallen asleep. She smiled to herself before putting a hand on her stomach.

“Maybe you should stay,” she said into the darkness of her bedroom, “maybe you’ll be the ticket to bring Elsa back.”

It was a stupid idea, Anna was fully aware. Lately, her life was a series of stupid ideas, but if it meant Elsa would stay, perhaps it was worth it.

+++

“Did you forget to breathe?” Elsa asked, putting her mug down on the table with a little too much force. “Anna, you can’t support a child, you couldn’t keep your fish alive for longer than two weeks.”

“But those are stupid fish, this is a human, I have experience being a human,” Anna countered.

“Last night you said you didn’t want to do this.”

“And last night you said you would support me.”

“I did yes.” Elsa rubbed one of her eyes with her hand.

“So we can raise the kid together, we can put it in your room and you can come back to mine and–”

“Wait, stop.” Elsa stood. Her shoulders looked stiff and her frown was sat so deeply on her face that you could no longer tell the color of her eyes. “Did you change your mind because you think this child means there’s an us?”

“But you said…” Anna trailed off, she glanced at the doorway to the living room. The kitchen suddenly felt too hot and too small.

“I said I would support you, I meant emotionally, I meant I would be your friend and listen to you and help you figure things out.”

“Be my friend,” Anna repeated with a scoff. “Real rich Elsa, you walk around my home that I welcomed you back into, claiming you love me and you support me but you just want to be my friend.”

“No, don’t do that.” Elsa pointed a finger at Anna, her other hand clenched into a fist at her side. “You welcomed me back, sure. I tell you I love you because I do. But, I wasn’t the one who broke up with their girlfriend of seven years out of the blue. I wasn’t the one who was suddenly unsure of their sexuality and kicked out someone who they used to love.”

“I still love you.”

Elsa laughed at that but it wasn’t the melody from last night; it was harsh and shrill. “No you don’t Anna, you made that pretty clear. You love the idea of not being alone. My friends said I was crazy coming back here, and maybe they were right. Maybe I am insane.”

Anna took a few steps forward, her fingers tapping against her leg in a random rhythm. She opened her mouth to speak and was surprised by how quiet the words came out. “You’re not insane.”

“Well, I feel like it,” Elsa said, lowering her hand and squeezing her eyes shut. “I walked back in here thinking we could work things out somehow. Only to find that you’re going out every night, running around with strangers and drunk and high. I wanted to fix what we have, not be your drunk bus.”

“I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“Do you even know who the father is?” Elsa opened her eyes and looked at Anna with such intensity that she could have set her on fire.

“I–” Anna started and closed her mouth again, just choosing instead to hang her head.

“That’s what I suspected. I don’t know why I’m surprised.” She sighed and picked up her mug off the table, glancing inside before tipping it back and finishing the few mouthfuls. “I’m going out, I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Elsa turned and left the kitchen, making her way towards the front door. Anna’s feet carried her forward before she could fully wrap her head around what was happening. Her eyes fell on the suitcase and overstuffed backpack by the front door.

“So you were planning on just leaving then.”

“Look.” Elsa shouldered the bag. “You said it yourself that you need to figure things out. I have a business trip anyway. I’ve been trying to tell you for a week now but you never listen to me, Anna.”

“Well, excuse me for being preoccupied!” She put a hand on her stomach to drive the point home.

Elsa only rolled her eyes. “You need to figure out a lot of things really quickly. I might or might not extend my trip. You have my number.” And with that Elsa yanked the front door open, stepped out into the sunshine, and slammed it shut behind her.

+++

“I just need to breathe,” Anna said to the empty house.

It had been three days since Elsa left, and Anna had no idea how long her trip was supposed to be. She kept unlocking her phone to text her and locking it again. She didn’t know what to say.

The TV was on quietly across the room, videos of protestors and old men arguing what was a good or bad choice by the court. Every time they cut to a map with the states and highlighted where abortion was illegal, it made her heart rate spike and her hands get sweaty. Her state wasn’t one of those affected, at least not yet.

Social media was on fire just as much as the news. Abortion rights were everywhere and Anna could not escape the coverage. She chose to not tell her friends, at least not over text. Maybe the next time she hung out with them she could have a discussion.

It was scary, being unsure of what she was able to say and where. The nightmares woke her every night and she had a hard time going back to sleep.

She wanted to talk to someone, anyone. But her phone remained quiet. Elsa wasn’t speaking to her and her ‘friends’ never texted first. It should have occurred to Anna sooner – having to invite herself all the time wasn’t a good sign.

Anna picked up her phone again, hovering over Elsa’s name for a moment before clicking on google instead. She typed in ‘should I have a baby or have an abortion’ and clicked through some articles, ignoring the obvious religious slanted ones.

The doorknob clicking stirred Anna’s thoughts back to the present. She looked up from her phone, her eyes blinking into the now dark room as Elsa stepped inside.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her but remaining in the entryway, a good distance from the couch where Anna sat.

“Hey,” Anna responded; she wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Are you just sitting in the dark?”

“No, well yes. I was doing some research and I lost track of the time.” Anna shifted so her feet were on the floor, ready to stand. “Are you hungry, do you want a drink or anything?”

Elsa gave her a small smile and shook her head. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Me? No, I think some folks are doing something because I keep seeing Instagram notifications but I wasn’t invited.”

“Well, why don’t you get changed and we can go grab some food.”

“You want to hang out with me?” Anna asked, slowly standing and stretching her back.

“I think we need to have a talk,” Elsa answered and Anna once again felt her chest fall, but she just nodded and left the room to change.

+++

Anna took a deep breath.

Elsa had left her at their small table to get drinks at the bar. A cocktail for herself and some soda for Anna. Elsa had taken them to a restaurant downtown. It was a two-story place, the bottom of which was a semi-fancy dining room and the top a more laid-back bar. They had been here a few times; it was a favorite of Elsa’s. The place had a warm feeling, cherry wood paired with industrial black steel. The roof was retractable and open when the weather was good. Large windows, opposite the bar, overlooked the city and the busy street below, and the tables were spread out enough that you could hold a conversation without having to shout.

“They only had coke,” Elsa said as she sat back down at the table, placing a glass of dark amber liquid in front of Anna.

“That’s fine,” Anna said, glancing at the large selection of whiskey behind the bar.

“One day, but not today.”

“I know.”

“I got us a few appetizer plates too, wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I ordered a selection.”

“You didn’t have to do that, I could have ordered.” Anna stirred her straw in her glass. Elsa was trying, but it felt weird, like a heavy weight between them that was threatening to tip over and crush them at any moment.

“I know, but I wanted to.”

There was a long moment of silence that followed. Elsa sipped on her drink and Anna stared at her ice cubes, unable to look the blonde in the eyes yet.

“I’m sorry,” Anna mumbled, still not looking up. When Elsa didn’t reply she lifted her head and repeated her words a little louder. “I’m sorry, Elsa.”

“I think it’s a little late for apologies, but who am I to say, because I would…” Elsa sighed and took a large sip of her drink.

“I’m going to say it anyway. I’m still not sure about a lot of things, but I know that when you’re gone I’m a mess. I think I realized it back when you first left, that year was really rough. I put my body through the wringer, drowning my feelings. And then you came back?” Anna paused and tapped her fingers on the table.

“Is that a question?”

“No, I’m just trying to gather my thoughts. You came back and I was so happy even though it was different and you were closed off, you were still there, in my home, in our home. But I was in too deep, too caught up in that scene that I kept going out, kept putting my white blood cells to work. I was so scared you would leave again and I would be alone, so I kept going out with those people.”

The bartender came over and placed a few plates on the table, a variety of meats and vegetables, and a mountain of fries covered in cheese. Anna went into detail about her destructive evening adventures between bites. And Elsa, for her part, sat there and listened to every word, leaving her drink untouched.

“So,” Elsa said once Anna had finished. “What do you want to do?”

“With what?”

“Well, mostly the baby but selfishly, us.”

“Oh.” Anna bit her lip and pulled out her phone. “I spent all day reading things and I don’t think I want it.”

“Okay, this is a big decision though so I want to make sure that you’re sure.” Elsa finally took another sip of her drink, the ice having long since melted.

“No I know, but I’m sure. I might have a home, but I didn’t pay for that. My mother did. And I don’t have a steady job, freelancing as a photographer only gets you so far. Plus I don’t think I’m mature enough, even at almost 30, to raise a kid.”

“I agree, you’re extremely immature,” Elsa said, smirking and causing Anna to roll her eyes.

“Also, I’m sorry for being stupid and trying to use it as a way to keep you around. I just really miss you and yeah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I mean that wasn’t okay, but I forgive you.” Elsa folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “I need you to tell me, honestly, if you chose to not keep the baby for those reasons you outlined or because you think the baby would get in the way of an ‘us’ in the future.”

“No, I’m sure. I can’t raise a kid, I’m still a kid.”

“Alright, so do you want to look at adoption agencies or…?” Elsa trailed off while giving a quick glance around the room.

“The ‘or’ option,” Anna responded. “I was wondering, and you don’t have to, but would you like to go with me? If not that’s okay, I can take an uber.”

“I’ll go with you.”

+++

“Just breathe,” Elsa said, they were a block away from the clinic and Anna could already see the large groups of protesters. Separated by the street, one side waving crosses and large signs painted with Bible verses and graphic images. The other side held up pride flags and large blankets, in an attempt to block the entrance from view.

Elsa parked the car at the back of the building, and they were immediately met by a young woman in a bright orange construction vest with large letters stitched to the front reading ‘clinic escort’. She waited outside with a blanket draped over one arm and gestured to them to take their time.

“This is a lot,” Anna commented, looking around the parking lot. It was only slightly quieter back here, the building blocking most of the noise of the people shouting on the other side. It was a real shame there wasn’t a back entrance.

“It is, but I’m right here.” Elsa turned to open the car door but Anna stopped her.

“Hey, I just want to say, thanks for coming, and for coming back.”

“Of course, but let’s get inside okay?”

They met the other woman outside, and she asked if they wanted to cover themselves with the blanket if that would make them more comfortable. Anna declined.

The protesters were louder as they rounded the corner of the building and seemed to pick up the volume even more when they caught sight of Anna. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt Elsa’s arm wrap around her shoulders. The shouting was so loud it was hard to make out what they were saying but a few phrases broke through the noise like shattering glass.

“Murderer.”

“Whore.”

“You’re killing a living child.”

“It’s a clump of cells you uncultured swine!” Someone nearby screamed, and it took a few beats for Anna to realize it was Elsa.

The noise was suddenly cut off when the door to the clinic shut behind them.

“You have to go through security here, and then they’ll check you in at the desk in the waiting room. Good luck!” The other woman said before disappearing outside again. Anna never learned her name.

Security was more involved than any airport she had been to. Elsa’s purse was extensively checked, and both women were patted down and passed over by a metal detector wand before finding walking through a standing metal detector. The waiting room was down a short hallway, brightly lit with blue floors and yellow walls. 

“Fill these out and we’ll call you in a few minutes,” A tired-looking older woman said once they made it to the end of the hall.

They sat down in worn chairs covered in outdated fabric. The waiting room was only about half full, women of various ages populated the room, some alone, some with a partner or friend.

A door clicked open and a nurse stepped out, “Anna?” She called, looking around the room.

“Right here,” Anna replied, standing. Elsa copied her but the nurse shook her head.

“Whichever one of you is the patient can come with me, the other has to stay out here. Clinic policy.”

Anna quickly glanced at Elsa but she was already sitting back down. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

She followed the nurse through the door which shut behind them with a loud eclectic lock sound. They walked together down another hallway before entering a small office with a computer, desk, and two chairs.

“Alright,” The nurse said, taking a seat at the computer and gesturing to the open chair. “I’m Pam, I’m your nurse today. I just want to review some information and we’ll go from there.”

“Sure.”

“Can you please give me your name and date of birth?”

“Isn’t it already on the form?” Anna asked, she could see the screen the nurse pulled up with all her information already filled in.

“Yes, but I have to verify it’s you,” Pam answered, seemingly unphased.

Anna sighed and answered the questions she had already written down.

“Alrighty so, we’re going to have you take a pregnancy test and we’ll go ahead to do the sonogram. After that, we can decide on next steps.”

“You can’t just pop it out? I already took the test.”

Pam gave her a soft smile. “This is part of the process sweetie.”

The vinyl chair covered in scratchy paper was cold against Anna’s back as she laid back. The pregnancy test in the clinic confirmed the same thing the stick at home had. And now she found herself watching Pam set up the sonogram machine next to her.

“Alright sweetie, I’m just going to lift your shirt and put some of this gel on your stomach. It will be cold, I’m sorry.”

Anna just nodded, she decided she didn’t like being called sweetie as the gel was squeezed on her abdomen. It was cold but she ignored it, the sooner this was over the sooner she could go home.

Pam moved the probe around while staring at the screen, after what seemed like far too long she clicked her tongue and turned to Anna. “Would you like to see?”

“Not really, but sure.”

Pam pivoted the screen towards her and Anna saw a grey mass with a black center. It looked like a charcoal drawing of an egg sunny-side up. It looked like nothing to Anna and she knit her brows together in confusion.

Pam noticed and pointed to a small grey blob within the black area. “That’s your baby right here.”

Anna could have sworn that the small thing on the screen was glare from the overhead lights. That wasn’t a baby, it wasn’t anything. The movies always made it look like a baby shape regardless of how big the actress was.

When Anna didn’t say anything Pam continued. “So you’re about 8 weeks along, which is good because if you were any further we would have to refer you out of state if you would still like to move forward with terminating the pregnancy.”

Pam took Anna back to her office after that and told her to wait while she got someone else. The next hour was a whirlwind of people in and out of the tiny office. Different nurses and counselors and at one point a financial person.

“Are you sure you wish to terminate your pregnancy?”

“How many partners have you had in the last year?”

“Are you using protection?”

“Can you tell me what lead to your decision today?”

“Is anyone pressuring you to be here today?”

“Do you use any drugs regularly?”

“Do you have a support system?”

Anna answered their questions in a fog, her brain drifting back to Elsa in the waiting room. She didn’t realize this would be such a long process with so many hoops to jump through. By the time the doctor came into the room, Anna was exhausted.

“So miss Anna, I’m Dr. Collins. I know this has been a long day, but I have to ask you a few things and then we can get you on your way.”

“Okay,” Anna responded already not a fan of having to answer more things.

“Are you certain that you wish to terminate your pregnancy? Changing your mind once the process begins can result in serious medical risks.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright, and are you okay with taking a pill?”

“Yeah, that’s not an issue.”

“Alright, so I’m going to give you your first pill here, and then I’m going to give another to take at home. Would you like some anti-nausea medication as well?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

“Alright, you can take ibuprofen for any pain but do not take aspirin. Any severe bleeding or pain, or to the ER. You can call this office if you have any questions. We’ll see you in a week to make sure everything went well.” He put a small cup in front of Anna containing a single pill and handed her a bottle of water.

“This is it?”

“This is the first step, the pill you take at home will be the main event. As long as you are absolutely sure, you can take that pill now.”

+++

“Breathe” Anna told herself, her teeth clenched.

The pain after the second pill felt like Anna’s worse period cramps turned up to an almost blinding intensity. The point of no return made itself known. Elsa found her that evening, curled up on the floor crying. She didn’t say anything, just sat there and let Anna cry into her lap.

A few days later the smell of fresh coffee woke Anna and she trudged blurry-eyed, into the kitchen. Elsa sat at the table reading the news on her tablet and there was an empty mug left next to the coffee pot. It felt so normal and comforting that Anna wasn’t totally sure if she was still dreaming or not.

“Good morning,” Elsa said, “There’s a bagel in the toaster for you, you just have to turn it on.”

“Thank you,” Anna moved over to the toaster and the feeling hit her. If she was honest it was always there, a tiny voice in the back of her head. She turned to face the other woman.

“Hey Elsa, do you think we can try again?”

“I think we can.”

#elsanna #june 2022 contest #prompt: point of no return #submission #cw: alcohol #cw: mentions of drug use

[stuckinotherplaces]

Animal Farm/ 1984 by George Orwell

Genre: Classics/Dystopian/Science-Fiction

Pages: 400

Publication date: 1949

I read a book that combined two of George Orwell's books, Animal Farm and 1984. Animal farm is a retelling of the Russian revolution, where the animals of the farm take it over and run the farm themselves. The animals come up with the motto "all animals are created equal" but the farm quickly falls back into oppressing certain animals while others prosper. 1984 is about a society in which everything a person says, does, and even thinks is monitored by the government, to make sure that everyone falls perfectly in line and knows their place. It follows one man as he desperately tries to have a life inside the confines of this society. Both books are hard to summarize in any real way

Both of these books were an easy, quick read. I made my way through it, horrified, in a single session. They were the kind of books that, despite knowing the ending, you just can't put them down for a single second. Both books were extremely well written, though I preferred Animal Farm personally.

I read Animal Farm first, so I'll talk about it first. I loved this book, though I'm not sure it had the effect on me that Orwell intended. In the beginning of the book, when the animals had first taken over the farm and were working together, their new society worked exactly the way that it should. It's no secret that I'm an anarchist communist, so the beginning of the book was my ideal world. Laws set and maintained strictly by the people affected by them, and the concept of "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs" executed perfectly. The book showed me that true communism/anarchy would work. The problem in the book was that they allowed leaders to take over, and once they allowed those hierarchies to form, they just got stronger and stronger until the other animals on the farm were being oppressed again. Orwell intended for this book to be about the dangers of communism, but all I took from the story was the dangers of capitalism.

I also loved 1984, but less for its themes and more for the actual story. The picture that was painted of this dystopian all-controlling government was horrifying. It was horrifying to look between that book and the things currently happening in the US. The way the government is trying to ban tiktok, police trans and queer bodies out of existence, states trying to ban masks in public again despite the fact that covid is not even close to over, the bans on abortion and birth control, all the horrific limitations on bodily autonomy, personal freedom, and the right to try to find happiness are all heading towards a dystopian society much like that from the book. My initial review after reading it was short: "If I weren't already an anarchist, this book would have been the only thing I needed to radicalize me." That feels even more true now than when I read the book. I've been watching America's slow descent into fascism for years now, trapped on the inside, and this book was a huge reminder that it is everyone's responsibility to fight against it.

The actual story was excellent and perfectly written. I could feel the way the character started to finally feel comfortable, the small shred of happiness that he finally had for the first time in his life. I could feel the anxiety that he would finally be caught. I could feel the fear of being constantly watched. And there was a point, right near the end, where I was almost convinced that there would be a happy ending. I knew, of course, that there wouldn't, that it would end in tragedy, but Orwell wrote it so well that a small part of me really believed that it would end happy. It made it that much worse when I actually read the end.

Animal Farm 4.5/5 stars

1984 4/5 stars

Finished reading December 5th, 2023

#animal farm #1984 #george orwell #bookblr #book review

[tandytoaster]

I have so much to complain about all the time lately I'm so sorry I'm just like [ head in hands ]

Last year I had 2 friends lie to me repeatedly for months in cahoots (""dating""🤡 each other). 1 I don't care for because he's lied and been sneaky before but the other has like fucking devasted me. Like the last person I would assume to pull one over on me, but about a month into the whole thing I gathered my suspicions and was Right‼️ much to my dismay.

I know I'm regressing here venting online in detail about the dramas of my life but shits getting to me.

Let me paint the picture for you. My 2 irl best friends are who I'm talking about. My ex boyfriend and my best friend of 17 years.

Last year my ex started working at where I'm currently working at, and my best friend just so happened to work there as well. They both put in a good word for me and now I work there and they've since quit ( unrelated ).

I was excited about this because I've never ( and I never will 🤡 ) had an irl friend group of people I know Really well so in the beginning I was really optimistic. My ex was like, "[best friend] is really pretty but I'm not gonna try to date her" and I'm like, "ok I trust u!" I did not trust him but that's a fight that didn't need to happen so I didn't let it.

We all went out 1 night with 2 other friends and it was very fun and I liked it a lot and then like 2 days later me, my ex, and my best friend made plans to go out and do stuff around town But Then I Got Covid so obviously I couldn't go out. They still went out which makes sense but it still like. Hurt because those were Our plans and now I've been excluded from Our plans.

This is when the bullshit started because allegedly when my best friend tried dropping my ex off at his place he held her hostage in her own car (???) saying shit like, "ohhh i wanna kiss u but i shouldnt" for like 2 hours. Ever since then they contiously complained about each other and I've never ever heard a positive thing from either of them about the other.

Not even a month later thats when I'm like, "okay something is up" because my ex sent me a fuckin. Pokemon go gift from the pokestop beside my best friend's house. When, weeks prior she was like, "I DONT WANT HIM TO KNOW WHERE I LIVE I DONT TRUST HIS ASS".

I keep trying to make plans with my best friend but its always, "oh, no I'm too busy with school. I'm too tired to go out" she was at his house the entire time apparently. She confessed to me like 2 months in, I had her come over and she was like, "you're going to hate me you're going to hate me. [ Your ex ] broke up with me. I loved him and he did this to me" SHE DIDNT EVEN TELL ME THEY WERE DATING SHE TOLD ME BY TELLING ME HE BROKE UP WITH HER? And then tried to say she loved him when I know damn well she didn't

I'm pissed at the overall lack of integrity here. Like yes I think it's fucking weird that she decided she wanted to date my ex boyfriend when she knew everything that happened with us from all the good and nice things to why we broke up. This is an individual I have been extremely sentimental about ever since I met him 10 years ago, someone who has been nothing but nice and passive with me (for the most part). And you got in the way of that. You inserted yourself in between my nice sentiments

The other big part of this I fucking hate is, she told me, "I knew there was a chance you would hate me for this and never talk to me again but I still did it I'm so sorry I'm such a bad friend". But You Still Did It! You ran that chance because I am beneath dirt to you, I am WORTHLESS in your eyes. I am not worth keeping. 17 years all for what. I really should have told her to get out of my apartment right then and there but noooo I'm too good at peace keeping and staying rational, to a detrimental amount !!! "I did this thing I assumed you would never talk to me again over" then why did you do it. Why am I worth throwing away. Unforgivable.

And I know what you're thinking, "why are you just mad at her, he was a part of it too" because I expect it from him. He's uncommitted and indecisive with a need for attention and I can handle it and put him in his place so to speak (uphold boundaries) when need be. It's just another day with him, with my best friend this isn't something I ever wanted to be suspicious of ( especially when she would tell me every day how much she hated him when they were 'dating' )

My best friend is the person who introduced me to "girl code". One of the many rules being, "don't go after your friend's ex" FUNNY!!!!!! How funny. She actually introduced this to me many months prior, before her and my ex ever actually met.

See, she was telling me about girl code because another girl in her group was interested in her ex bf. And she didn't like that. Its the hypocrisy, its the double standard. 'Don't do it to me but i can do it to you'. And then later on, some cable guy came into her then-place of employment and one of her coworkers was flirting with him because they thought he was her ex. When she told me this she told me she didn't appreciate her coworker doing that to her. 😇 I wanted to bring up the hypocrisy then and there but I didn't. Because she can't handle conflict. Any and all anger I have with this situation is unproductive and talking about it with her serves no purpose since the situation has ended and what has been done cannot be undone. But it festers inside me. If I get mad at her, she will come back swinging at me because thats what she does with everyone. Someone starts a fight and she digs her knife in and twists.

Thats all just one issue thats been pissing me off since forever and I'll die mad about it I will be so honest. She's ran my ex's name through the mud and has called him a gaslighter ( this i believe hes tried with me when backed into a corner but i dont fall for it ), a narcissist (she calls everyone she hates a narc btw), a woman beater, an abuser. And like. Because I'm her friend, her best friend (supposedly), I want to believe her. But shes also a self confessed chronic liar. And like, I know my ex, I've known him for 10 years and she knew him for 4 months. We saw each other for a little under 2 years and the worst he ever did to me was avoid me, which did hurt, and then ultimately chose to date someone else, which also hurt.

I realize how shitty this all sounds on my end, like, "oh my friend said this dude abused her but i dont believe it", but its because i know him and i know her and i know she lies about everything

She complains constantly about her other friends, has nothing nice to say about them, they're all toxic narcs too in her words. SO THEN I WONDER!!!!! Wtf is she saying about me. I really do wonder. She's very supportive to my face but it wouldn't surprise me if she talks badly about me to her other friends who she complains about to me.

I can only guess what she would complain about regarding me, my guesses are that she thinks I'm annoying [ gestures to my whole self ] and that I'm dirty.

My apartment is a whole mess and I hate it so so so so so much but I don't have the energy to get it clean. I use my energy doing the dishes over and over and over and over and then everything else falls to shit.

And!!!!!! I have a Filthy Disgusting Unhygienic cat 😁

I've had cats my whole life and she knows DAMNNNNNNNN well they are my favourite things in the entire world. So tell me why does she say to my face with such confidence she thinks they're gross and dirty. I think the men you date are ugly as fuck but you don't hear me saying that to you!!!! She's done it twice, first time was the post just below this and the other was 2 days ago where she said if she's going to move in with this other friend he can't have a cat because she thinks they're dirty.

I've also had a suspicion that she's never eaten anything I've baked. I like to bake. Baking is my talent, art is my skill. I like to give treats to my friends. I don't think my best friend has ever eaten anything I've given her. Probably because she thinks I'm dirty. I've never seen her eat anything I've given her, and anything I Have given her she doesn't acknowledge unless if I ask how it was. I Could give her the benefit of the doubt that she doesn't like eating in front of people and just forgets to say anything. But given everything else, again, I'm not that stupid.

I have no plans on stopping being her friend because she's nice to my face i can just play stupid. But idk if she keeps bringing up the cat thing i might have to be like, "hey man. I get it. You think I'm dirty. You don't have to hang out with me if you don't want to"

I love her but she kinda sucks

#noop nooping #negative

[flying-alwina-esnardo]

"Emerging from the Shadows: A Resilience, Hope, and New Beginnings"

In the year 2020, the world was swallowed in the never ending grip of the COVID-19 pandemic. It was a time of uncertainty, fear, and isolation. I was in Pangasinan and in the middle of it all, I found out that this year would become a turning point in my life, shaping my journey in ways I never expected. As the pandemic went on, the walls of my home became both my shelter and my prison. With my parents and family residing in Cavite, I felt a profound sense of loneliness and sadness. Additionally, the weight of personal issues began to crush my spirit, and I lost interest in everything around me, including my studies. It seemed as though the world had lost its color, and I was merely a shadow drifting through the days.

Moreover, in search of solace, I often found myself venturing out to our backyard. There, in the tranquil embrace of nature, I discovered a sanctuary of peace. The golden hues of the sunset painted the sky, casting a warm glow upon my weary soul. The melodious symphony of chirping birds filled the air, their songs carrying a message of hope and resilience. And the gentle murmur of the nearby river reminded me of the constant flow of life, urging me to find my own rhythm once again. It was in those quiet moments, surrounded by the beauty of nature, that I made a decision that would change the course of my life. Finally , I decided to travel to Cavite, to reunite with my parents and family, and to start a new one. It was a jump of faith, a jump towards a brighter future. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, I ride on a journey of self-discovery and growth. I embraced the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that they were stepping stones towards a better tomorrow. The transition from the melancholy landscape of my past to the promising horizon of my future was not easy, but it was necessary.

As I continued my studies, I found solace in the power of bravery and determination. In the end, it was my resilience and determination that carried me through. The pandemic may have disrupted my education, but it could not extinguish the fire within me. With each passing day, I grew stronger, more determined to create a better future for myself. Now, as I reflect on that transformative year, I am filled with gratitude for the lessons it taught me. It was a year of challenges, of loss, and of resilience. But it was also a year of hope, of self-discovery, and of new beginnings. As the sun sets on the memories of 2020, I embrace the dawn of a new chapter in my life. The journey continues, and I am ready to face whatever lies ahead with a strong courage and a heart filled with hope.

Output No. 8: MEMOIR

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Another Top Ten Favorite Reads of 2023

I’m ranking this group of books as well. 

#11

The Sin of Abbé Mouret Émile Zola (1875)

The Belly of Paris Émile Zola (1873)

The Bright Side of Life Émile Zola (1884)

Nana Émile Zola (1880)

Zola! Zola! Zola!  All lower tier Zola novels, but interesting just the same.  In The Sin of Abbé Mouret a priest falls in love with a woman and then Zola recounts their love as if he were retelling the Garden of Eden story.  Beautiful, maddening and one of the most experimental of all his novels.  The Belly of Paris deals with what we call Farmer’s Markets.  It isn’t disgusting like Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, but the butcher shop that is the focal point for the characters involved isn’t always a paragon of good health.  The Bright Side of Life uses the title ironically as a family takes in a ten year old who has inherited the wealth of her parents who ran the butcher shop in The Belly of Paris.  The family taking her in manage to rob her of that wealth and then blame her for allowing them to do so.  Nana is about a high class prostitute who enjoys ruining every man she meets until she meets a man who delights in abusing her.  What happens to Nana in the final pages of the novel is almost abusive on Zola’s part. 

#12

Crook Manifesto Colson Whitehead (2023)

Last year Colson Whitehead’s Harlem Shuffle made my Top Ten list.  It is a about a Harlem furniture salesman named Ray Carney, a character who introduced me to medieval sleeping and his hilarious hijinks as he struggles to be both a good citizen and a criminal.  In the second book of this trilogy, Carney is back, but this time he plans on going the straight and narrow. No more criming for Carney.  At least until a detective threatens him with serious time if he doesn’t pull off a heist for the detective to benefit from.  Another very funny novel that ultimately has some rather serious consequences for Carney.  Of course, I look forward to the final book about Ray Carney.

#13

My Last Innocent Year Daisy Alpert Florin (2023)

When Isabel Rosen has an affair with her writing professor at a prestigious college, we know the professor should know better.  What makes this interesting is that it is told from the point of view of the student having the affair and we catch glimpses that tell us she is recounting this affair in the future, which means she has processed it and weighed it out.  For better or worse, Isabel Rosen is a wise young woman. This is a remarkable debut.

#14

Day Michael Cunningham (2023)

Taking place on the same day over three consecutive years beginning in April 2019, we discover how love/ marriage is entered into for the worst reasons (loneliness, a union of two like minded people, because prospects weren’t going to improve, etc) and how that slowly ebbs away at people.  It also documents how COVID changed the world, yet never at any point in time does that word enter into the novel.  I assumed this would be a downer of a book but it is blisteringly funny…and sad.  Social media just ruins everything. 

#15

My Death Lisa Tuttle (2004)

This freaky novel takes a (fictious) legendary mistress of a (fictitious) famous painter and a (fictitious) author who wants to pen a biography of said mistress and then turns the entire situation inside out.  The mistress turns out to have been a painter herself not to mention an expert at behind the scenes manipulation.  The book’s title is the name of the outrageous painting the author discovers. Was the author really encountering serendipity when she discovered that painting by the mistress or was this all a grand scheme to trick the author?   Who is being played here: the mistress, the author or the reader?

#16

Big Day Coming: Yo La Tengo And The Rise of Indie Rock Jesse Jarnow (2012)

Once upon a time I used to read virtually every bio about bands I loved and then one day I stopped.  A massive Yo La Tengo kick lead me back to this book that I ignored back in the day.  How is it there is a trio of people who have no controversy swirling around them other than maybe occasionally one of them isn’t always the nicest of people.  Ooh.  That might describe all of us.

#17

The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly Sun-Mi Hwang (2000)

A hen who yearns to lay eggs yet can’t and is eventually culled but doesn’t die and then is saved by a mallard who everyone makes fun of.  Together this pair of misfit animals manage to raise a family and the cycle of life marches on.  This is a fantastic tale of dreams and familial bonds crossing species because like with humans, the one who puts in the work gets the right to be called Mom. 

#18

Address Unknown Katherine Kressmann Taylor (1938)

Written in 1938 and told in epistolary form it contains 18 letters and one telegram passed back and forth between two German men.  One of the men is Jewish and runs an art gallery in San Francisco.  His partner, not Jewish, has returned to Germany.  What happens is expected of course (through our own awareness today of what took place), but again this was written in 1938.  Anyone claiming America knew nothing about the Nazi threat during that time is a liar. 

#19

Lucy Gayheart Willa Cather (1935)

Yes, this is minor Cather.  But I was so enraptured with the titular character I fell deep into this book.  Keep in mind, I never read the backs of books, so I rarely actually know what I’m getting into. I assumed this was a minor retelling by Cather of her brilliant Song of The Lark which is about an opera singer. Lucy goes to work for an opera singer.  From that point on, nothing, and I mean nothing I believed was going to happen, happened.  How is it that I have read all of Cather and I still did not realize that in Cather’s novels anyone who falls in love is doomed. Cather hated marriage and she demonstrated that endlessly by punishing anyone in her novels who was foolish enough to fall prey to marriage.  While Lucy didn’t marry, she did fall in love and was equally punished for that fault.

#20

Justine, or The Misfortunes of Virtue The Marquis de Sade (1791)

Is it possible for a book I absolutely detested to land on this of Favorite Reads?  Well, here it is, so the answer is obviously yes.  This wasn’t a favorite read but it was so memorable that I still think about it six months after the fact.  Justine and her sister lose their parents at an early age.  Justine gives herself to God and the sister marries a wealthy man and then ensures he dies young so she can inherit his wealth.  All Justine gets is raped by every single man (and occasionally a woman) that she encounters.  De Sade was an atheist and he believed that atheists lacked a moral code which allowed them to behave as terrible as they desired.  He takes this belief and punishes poor Justine for believing in God by ensuring she is raped, beaten, tortured over and over in the most excruciating detail.  This book is punishment.  It angers me because I am an atheist and I have a moral code.  De Sade even believes that women are such a blight on humanity that they should be done away with altogether.  Okay, genius, let’s see how long humanity would last without women.  De Sade was a fool but this book stays in my head like a song that won’t go away.  The only good thing about this novel was the ending which actually made me laugh out loud.  Poor Justine, in the end, even God didn’t love her.   This was the first and the last book I’ll ever read by Citizen de Sade.

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Embracing solitude in the Holiday season, Magz new pop anthem ‘Alone For Christmas’ delivers catchy sound and empowering words

Independent singer, songwriter, and producer Magz reigns from within New York City, boasting an incredible 20,000 monthly Spotify listeners since her 2020 musical beginnings. Now entering the Holiday season with a bang, Magz shares the all-too-relatable ‘Alone For Christmas.’

Setting up the Christmas spirit early, ‘Alone For Christmas’ offers the perfect dreamy pop combination of twinkling magic and anthemic lyrics you’ll be singing along to any time of the year. Whimsical and bright right from the start, ‘Alone For Christmas’ dazzles in vibrant instrumental chimes and hazy undertones of drawn-out synth, painting the picture of winter’s snowy skies and captivating spirits from hanging lights to love-filled Christmas movies. This enchantment carries through into the opening verse as softly padding beats join into the gentle concoction of sounds, all the while Magz vocals soar through the agile vastness of the soundscape, airily cascading into higher tones with an undercurrent of melancholia seeping through. Deep piano keys add to this saddened feel, reverberating through the pre-chorus, seemingly also fading out of the initial chimes’ and their more ethereal qualities for a moment more paired-back and sentimentally confiding. The chorus merges both of these senses into one, finding a sense of solace in what others may deem to be a negative, clasping around what sounds like tambourine rattles, elegant drum beats, rich piano and Christmassy bells and chimes. Magz floaty words only further add to the comforting warmth of the sound, melting your freezing heart with her two and a half minute embrace. As things push forward, the instruments of ‘Alone For Christmas’ only continue to build in their strength and interlacing tones, along with a multitude of backing vocal layers that shimmer with a haunting encapsulation of the entire single’s resonance.

As many of us perhaps experienced due to COVID or just due to the world’s rise in loneliness, Magz pens a narrative of the holiday season spent alone inside of ‘Alone For Christmas’ for everyone everywhere to relate to. From the opening line’s change in perception, ‘some shiny things aren’t so shiny anymore’, it’s immediately established that Christmas doesn’t have quite the same glow as it once did in youth and over-sensationalised media. Continuing ‘this season doesn’t look the same as it did before’ , there’s an evident shift in opinion and appreciation for what this holiday truly means, no longer relying upon traditions and surrounding yourself with others to be happy. The chorus hook pushes this narrative front and centre, beaming ‘you’d think I’d be writing a wishlist, but all I really need is me’ , a declaration of self-love that we could all do with taking on as we learn to navigate life’s more solitude moments. As this evidently isn’t her first time spending this time by herself, Magz lines like ‘looks like it’s another year alone for Christmas’ look to find positives in what was likely once hard to bear, turning this event into a celebration of her own. Though so much of the track is doused in this uplifting sentiment, there are nods like ‘I’ll be playing blues instead of jingle bells’ that seemingly still carry some sadness for the loss of family and loved ones for Magz to surround herself with, burying a lot of these emotions as she navigates it with strength and her own gratitude for what the experience has to give her alone. There’s a definite sorrow between the lines but that is to be expected as the world promotes grand parties and get-togethers, with Magz instead focusing upon all the casual magic and beauty that can be found through cherishing such an occasion in the company of just yourself.

Check out ‘Alone For Christmas’ for yourself here to find some reassurance in spending the holiday season alone this year, or just to play it loud and have a jolly good time!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#tatiana

[deafwishesblog]

My Mother Might Be Haunting Me - A Bittersweet Notion

I'd like to begin this chapter on a relatively uplifting note, delving into a topic that holds a special place in my heart. As I reflect on the past, I can't help but recall the reactions of those close to me during the trying time of my mother's passing. Many of them, understandably, turned to well-intentioned yet ill-fitting grief literature for solace. One prominent recurring theme was the phrase or variations of, "she will always be with you." The idea that my mother is watching over me, a constant presence, "no matter what," might sound reassuring on the surface, but in truth, is horrifying.

My mother was a delightful woman, full of her own quirks and characteristics. She did however, possess a strictness, a strong set of opinions and an unwavering stubbornness that defined her. The thought that she might be ever-present, observing every aspect of my life, is an idea fraught with complexity. Was she really there when I grazed her car in the garage? Did she witness the moment her cherished poppies refused to bloom due to my forgetfulness? And what about my first date with my boyfriend—was she a silent companion then? The more one contemplates this notion, the less comforting it becomes, shedding light on the unintended implications of such a sentiment.

While I wouldn't label myself as religious or spiritual, I am a firm believer in the idea that events carry some form of purpose. I've adopted the practice of assigning meaning to occurrences, a sort of insurance against the uncertainties of life. I don't hold a belief in a higher power or subscribe to the notion that my mother is perpetually observing my every move. Yet, there's a thought that lingers: What if she is? With this uncertainty in mind, allow me to share a few instances where I've sensed her influence on the course of events.

In doing so, I hope to capture the essence of these moments and explore the intricacies of belief, remembrance and the unexplainable connections that persist beyond the physical realm.

The Poppies

The relentless progression of my mother's inoperable brain tumour, entwining its way along her optic nerve, threatened to steal her vision, adding to the hearing loss she had already endured. The prospect of confronting a world devoid of both sight and sound had inflicted profound anxiety upon her and the weight of that thought was crushing. In moments like these, I find myself thankful that she was spared such helplessness.

These circumstances, however, pressed upon me a heavy teenage responsibility: passing my driving test. The urgency was twofold — for everyday errands and potential emergencies. I dedicated hours to mastering the skill, yet the relentless disruptions caused by COVID threw obstacles in my path, forcing the cancellation of my test not once but five times. All this effort was for her. I was determined to prove my capability, especially as she considered palliative care. It's challenging to reflect on how I was primarily motivated to learn to dissuade my mother from dying.

Passing the driving test was a formidable endeavour. Countless hours navigating the bustling streets of London, combined with my own financial struggles, painted a vivid picture of determination. My free hours were spent divided between my mother's bedside at the hospital and anxiety-ridden driving sessions. This taxing schedule, in hindsight, perhaps helps explain why my partner of nearly two years chose that juncture to exit my life. It was the eve of my test, a mere few weeks after my mother's departure, adding another layer to an already complex time. But that's a story for another day.

Eventually, I succeeded in passing the test. As I was dropped off at home by my instructor, my initial excitement gave way to a bittersweet reality—I had no one to share this triumph with. It's customary to inform your parents of such a milestone achievement, but both my parents were no longer around. The silence in the house was palpable, my friends were occupied, and my former partner had chosen to leave. The weight of loneliness engulfed me, and I wept, a torrent of emotions that underscored the primal desire to share accomplishments with those closest to us.

Amidst this storm of emotions, I compelled myself to step outside, to take in a breath of fresh air and regain composure. And there, in that moment of vulnerability, I saw them—the poppies. Those very poppies I had believed were casualties of my distracted grief. My mother's cherished poppies, once seemingly lifeless, now burst forth in vibrant bloom. Their bright, delicate petals were a poignant sight. They had persisted and thrived. I could not conjure a more fitting symbol of my mother in that garden. While reason might attribute their blooming to nature's timing and resilience, I choose to embrace the belief that my mother's energy, whether a cosmic force or at their planting, was a guiding hand. In that moment, her presence felt tangible, her pride in my achievement an undeniable truth.

The poppies' resilience was a reflection of her spirit, a testament to the enduring love that transcends the boundaries of life and death. In this intricate dance of life's moments, I find solace in the belief that she, in some form or another, was there with me, celebrating a milestone that was as much hers as it was mine.

This one's for you!

In the latter years of my mother's life, music faded from her world. Deafness had gradually taken hold during the mid-2010s, much to her heartbreak. Yet, amidst the gradual silence, there remained a handful of notable artists who broke through, of which she could recall and hum, and boy did she hum. Bruno Mars is one such artist.

Last year, a poignant moment unfolded after my brother and I concluded our annual pilgrimage to Littlehampton—a coastal town where the ashes of my mother found their final resting place. As we parted ways, dropping my brother off, I found myself in a state of emotional fragility. The day had unfolded beautifully, a gentle reminder of the joys life could offer, yet beneath the surface, a storm of grief remained unresolved. I had rushed through the day, my thoughts pulled in a myriad of directions, leaving me unable to truly confront the depths of my sorrow. In moments like these, I've learned that it's crucial to carve out time for mourning; otherwise, grief surges forth uninvited.

On this particular day, as I navigated the road ahead with teary eyes, I was suddenly compelled to pull over. The weight of my emotions overcame me and my car became a sanctuary for my unbridled tears. It was in this raw, vulnerable moment that fate played its hand. The voice of a Heart Radio host uttered a simple yet profound statement: "If you're finding yourself having a tough day, this one's for you!" The ensuing notes carried a familiar warmth, the opening strains of "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars.

Now, I'm well aware that recounting this might evoke a cringe-worthy response, even from myself.  Yet, amidst the almost therapeutic absurdity of it all, I couldn't help but understand the profound symbolism. If my mother, in her realm of limited auditory experiences, had the chance to choose a song for that exact moment, "Just the Way You Are" would have been her resounding selection.

An Explosive Drive:

Lately, the concept of coincidences and the idea of my mother's presence accompanying me have occupied my thoughts, particularly since embarking on the journey of crafting this blog. In a remarkable twist of fate, reminiscent of the prior anecdote, I found myself once again engulfed in tears as I sat behind the wheel of my car. It's no surprise that such episodes unfold commonly after the dual occurrence of losing a parent and gaining a driver's license within the same month.

Seeking to test the boundaries of my mother's potential influence, I vocalized my feelings of being lonely and adrift in life. I articulated a longing to feel her presence and with a hint of humour, I threw in a half-joking remark about how she could put on another song, fully aware that I was tuned into Heart's late-night techno show—a genre far removed from my dear mother.

The night was a warm, unremarkable August evening. As I embarked on my drive, I turned a corner and there, directly in the middle of my windshield, an isolated firework burst into a vivid display against the night sky. Its brilliance illuminated the darkness. A solitary firework, unexpected and inexplicable.

In that extraordinary moment, my scepticism wavered. It was as if the universe itself had conspired to respond to my plea. While I understood the logical explanations—perhaps a nearby event or celebration was responsible for the firework—I chose to perceive it as something more. It was as though my mother had found a way to orchestrate a message beyond the realms of conventional communication.

As the echoes of the firework's brilliance faded into the night, I felt a profound connection. Whether by the mysterious currents of fate or by the gentle touch of my mother's spirit, that firework became a beacon of assurance. A reminder that even in the darkest of moments, when logic and reason falter, the universe has its ways of delivering answers. It might not always be through sentimental lyrics or familiar tunes; sometimes, it's through the unexpected, the unscripted and the uncanny.

Conclusion:

I hope the sentiments I express here don't come across as naive. I acknowledge that I can't assert with absolute certainty that my mother orchestrates these coincidences from beyond, nor can I even entertain the possibility under duress. However, on a personal level, I've chosen to imbue these occurrences with meaning, a way to cherish and narrate them with newfound fascination.

I'm well aware that this notion might evoke sadness in some; nevertheless, for me, these instances offer solace. It's not the notion of her everlasting presence that brings me comfort, but rather the idea that she materializes when her guidance is most needed – just as a mother's presence should. This is the very essence I seek in my adult years, a parental connection that I find myself yearning for. I am profoundly thankful that these seemingly insignificant episodes bestow upon me a faint semblance of the support I crave.

Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts. Following to hear more of these anecdotes would hold immense significance for me.

#grief #griefsucks #memoir #parent loss #griefandloss #grief journal #coping with grief #blog tips #off my chest #r/offmychest

[kathrynnagy]

Nature Captured in Paint Strokes

Nature in Oils is a small corporation created in 2011 by artist Grant Hacking. Hacking runs his cooperation all on his own in North Conway, New Hampshire where his home and studio is located

     Hacking photographed with one of his paintings

 “Nature in Oils”  is also a book written by Hacking where he created a collection of paintings inspired by nature. In the book, you will find many art pieces by Hacking, along with his life story and all about his career. The name comes from his inspiration being nature, and he uses oils to bring his reflections to life. 

The book “Nature in Oils” by Grant Hacking

When I asked Hacking what his inspiration for his work was, he mentioned that both of his parents were artists. “My parents met in art school and so I grew up surrounded by art ever since I was little,” he said.  His father would paint just for fun, but then soon realized he could make a living off of it and so he did. When I asked how long it took him to figure out he had the talent, he said, “I think that painting is definitely genetic so I was able to pick it up from a young age.” He won many art competitions and different awards when he was a child. 

Hacking’s life story is anything but ordinary. He was born and grew up in Northern South Africa. His parents placed in him a love for wildlife by traveling around Africa. Hacking also has a love for photography and has captured so many unique moments of African wildlife. 

Hacking in South African wildlife taking photographs

In 1990 he moved to the states and continued his work specializing in African animals but has expanded his work. I asked Hacking what to tell me about what he paints now and he said, “a bit of everything. Mostly I paint wildlife because it’s a very good seller because people in this country love the outdoors,” he said. Wildlife is a small fraction of artists with a very large audience which is very beneficial to Hacking. Along with wildlife, he also has created many extraordinary landscape pieces. 

A landscape piece created by Hacking

Nature in Oils has work in galleries across the country. The galleries are in Colorado, Nashville, Charleston, Florida, Montana, and Utah. Hacking also promotes his work in several ways. One being art shows. This year, hacking was in art shows in Charleston, South Carolina and Nashville, Tennessee. Hacking mentioned this year was a very special and exciting year due to his complete sell out in Nashville. He even said that he almost didn’t do the show, but had to pull a few strings and everything worked out even better than he had imagined. “It’s all about showing up,” he said. 

  Hacking’s show set up in Nashville

When it comes to painting, every artist has their own style and preferred materials. Hacking uses only oils for his paintings and he uses them on linen which he specifies is a fancier form of canvas.

Hacking performing the beginning stages of a painting using his oil pants and linen canvas 

 Each painting needs a special frame and Hacking emphasizes how carefully each frame needs to be created to fit the art work perfectly. One of the many unique things about Hacking is that he makes his own frames which gives him the opportunity to make sure everything goes together. He is very thoughtful and cares so much about his clients. When someone buys a painting, he makes sure that the frame will work well with the environment of their home. “I love the look of old African wood that you could find on the ground and I try to replicate that and add things like gold leaf to make it more upscale,” he said.

    Hacking’s process of making the frames in his workshop. This is one of the final steps: gold leafing.

Covid was a hard time for everyone and many businesses. However, when I asked Hacking about its effect on Nature in Oils, he jokingly said, “I miss Covid… I’m just kidding, but the one good thing that came out of it was that it was an amazing time for my business.” When covid first hit, Hacking thought his career was over. “I thought, that’s it. I don’t know how I’m gonna sell my work and make money anymore,” he said. Hacking has always been good at figuring out how to stay successful. He talks about how he decided to do little paintings and record himself doing this to give people some entertainment and hopefully sell his work. 

Hacking painting for an audience

“I would take videos of these little paintings and decided to send them out in emails to everyone hoping it would help and I just watched my computer light up with emails from people wanting to buy… I couldn’t believe it,” he said. Nature in Oils continued doing extremely well after that. 

One of the mini frames Hacking sold during the pandemic and the set up he had for his videos.

Nature in Oils is an exceptionally inspiring corporation and is amazing at capturing nature’s beauty. Hacking is an outstanding artist with a beautiful life story that he shares through his art. He continues to put smiles on peoples’ faces and share his talent with the world. When I asked Hacking what one of his favorite parts of his work was, he said, “when people are struggling, they turn to artwork. And I love being able to provide that artwork that makes someone happy.” Grant Hacking grasped his talent and created something so beautiful with it that continues to inspire everyone. 

Hacking photographed with a painting he created

[wroteonedad]

Bath, Bristol & Beyond - Peter Brown

The weather is getting colder outside. I am beginning to get to that stage in the year where I start layering up 7 cropped tops underneath a jumper so I can still go out and wear a cute little skirt and look fashionable. It's starting to feel Christmassy outside. The markets are all popping up, people are beginning to get into the festive spirit and families out in public are still as rude as ever to get through. When me and my partner were away in Bath two weeks ago, we watched the final set up for their Christmas market. The giant tree that appeared outside of the cathedral within around 3 hours, it was very pretty and it's a shame I wasn't able to stay there long enough so I could see the market fully set up for the city. While I was away in Bath, I managed to catch the Peter Brown show that was on at the city centre's Victoria Gallery. A £7 entry felt a little bit steep for a one roomed exhibition, especially in this living crisis, but we agreed to pay it anyway and see what the works were all about.

In the description left by the gallery themselves, they state that Peter Brown is the president of the New English Art Club (I've never heard of this club by the way) and that he is Britain's best plein air painters. The works he had featured in the exhibition were pieces that for the majority, had been painted during the Covid-19 lockdowns. This alone didn't feel like a very strong starting point for a collection of works. Being in uni at the time of lockdown, many people's works began to be based around what life was like for them during lockdown. Or it was going to be something like the guy in London who decided to take drone images of the capital city to show everyone how quiet life was like during that time. The concept of creating a piece of work based around Covid-19 and the lockdown began to get very old very quickly. However, Brown chose to paint some of these scenes during lockdown and also get back to them again when the restrictions were lifted so you were able to see a nice side by side comparison of the time.

Foggy Morning, Putney Bridge is a little bit unclear as to whether or not this was painted during lockdown. It never really specifies, and that's okay. The way in which Brown paints things allow them to be picturesque in nature as he captures an entire still image through different hues of oils. They're postcard worthy. Some of these paintings are so good from afar that you even convince yourself that they're actual photographs. Up close looking at these paintings, I feel like I am looking at a game on an old console as a kid. Bath as a whole is a very historic, but looking at these paintings also remind me of the types of settings used in games such as Bully for the PS2. Despite it being a simulation game, the way in which the setting of the game is created is similar. Dark, murky and urbanised, it's just like England really when you think about it. Maybe it's the overuse of grey in the game and how grey this country is.

Hot September Morning, Kingsmead Square 2021 and Kingsmead Square from Westgate Street 2021

Did I mention the part of the exhibition where the majority of the wonderfully crafted paintings were all painted from Kingsmead Square? If there was a central part of the city, or a part of the city that you always find yourself in, it's Kingsmead Square. When I was on holiday there, I fell for the charm. There is a large selection of culture all stuffed within this one small square that leads off to other central parts of the condensed city. Endless cobbled streets, endless selections of food and both independent and chain bars litter the streets. Speaking of litter, there barely is any in this part of the city, it's incredible actually. Kingsmead Square is the part of the city you go to when you want to dine outside and take some pictures to make it look like you're out in Paris. One of my friends even told me that she believed I was actually in Paris because I went to a place called La Baguette which literally just sells baguettes, I don't know how when I don't have a passport. Brown becomes aware through the descriptions of the works that he does indeed spend a lot of time painting this small part of the city from every angle possible. As it turns out, he hyper fixates on areas that he can find so much beauty in. He would watch the comings and goings of people flowing through the area and all the hustle and bustle as people left. I too think Kingsmead Square is beautiful and I could spend a whole year in that square and I'm convinced that I would find a new place to go every day, though while I was there I only took one measly photo of the square from my final breakfast there.

Adding to the hustle and bustle of the city culture in Bath, Brown also painted Christmas Tree and Rain, Abbey Courtyard 2021. I think we can all agree that Christmas in 2021 was still a little bit strange. It had been a good 6 months since the freedom day, but it still felt like everyone was a little bit on the edge of the seat over knowing how to spend Christmas. We were in a time where by this point we had spent so much time alone and away from the people we loved the most that suddenly we had no idea how to be in a room with them again or celebrate. Christmas festivals were still a little dull, there was much more happening in comparison to 2020, but it still felt like we weren't ready, and I think that is something that this painting shows. The painting captures some of the first real and raw emotion of the Christmas buzz in the area, being in an area that is full of life and community. Brown said he would arrive to paint early in the morning when the courtyard wasn't so busy and would watch how much busier it would get as it got later into the day. I am a big fan of this piece, to put it plainly. There is something so magical about the feel of the painting, I feel like I'm there. Locked into a festive period that is all of a sudden all year long, Being able to see so much detail, but not much detail at all is also a very clever approach to the style of the collection of paintings.

The Horse Chestnut, Prior Park, Buildings II 2022 is my favourite piece from the collection of works, maybe because of its large scale imagery and how you can see every detail of the work from so far away. Brown created this painting in particular as a study he had made in April, however it was put away and worked without reference. The reason it was placed in the gallery space is because he has to have one large painting in every show he does. Most of these large paintings are typically the busy areas of Bath, the streets and their people, but this type of painting creates a peaceful reflection in such a manic space. This whole section in particular is very peaceful, all based around the same area and the greenery that it has. Across from these paintings, there is a TV with a short film about the works created for the show. It's nice that it hasn't been made to be a distraction from the greenery works as the short film is on silent and only contains the subtitles.

As a whole, I liked this show, I like the selection of work that is there, however paying £7 in this climate feels a little bit eye watering for what I did see. The paintings all seemed to be thrown on top of each other and I'm not quite tall enough to be able to look to the top and take the detail of those paintings away from me. For Peter Brown to make such a statement about most of the works being painted during the lockdown, it felt like a reach. The only connotations with Covid-19 and this set of works is that the paintings are in a chronological order, and even then most of his paintings don't feature a human subject rather they are just buildings and streets is a beautiful city. I was also shallow, I tended not to mesh with the works about Bristol purely based on the fact that I have never been to Bristol. Brown also uses the exhibition space to sell his paintings so if you have a spare £5250 in your back pocket then you can own a lovely framed realistic painting too.

Bath, Bristol & Beyond by Peter Brown is on at Victoria Art Gallery, Bath until 15th January 2023.

You can also check out the online version of the exhibition here

#writing #art review #peter brown #victoria art gallery #bath #realism

[thedaveandkimmershow]

It a Saturday sunny morning.

I like to let that thought sink in a little because it really is quite lovely... even though it snowed a little last night. It was really cold last night. And now it's sunny and warmer this morning.

I've got a lot to juggle today and because I feel this window opening the slightest crack, I'm gonna make good on what in the past has been a yearly tradition (ish).

It's an acknowledgement of my old neighborhood bible schoolteacher, Mrs. West. She's been gone for quite a while now and somehow I slipped into this sort of yearly visit to leave a poinsettia and a brief note at her graveside.

A few years ago, I had an artificial poinsettia and the card ready to go... but then December got away from me... and then Covid. And then another year of Covid.

Yeah.

I still wrote brief notes in those two pandemic years and today I go to lay them where they should've been... had December not gotten away from me followed by two years of not doing what we usually do.

But first I have this year's note to pen.

In the meantime, I leave this history, this once upon a time, when I was just this little boy who met someone that would be part of his thoughts every year.

This time of year.

Among the most persistent of my Christmas traditions is one with roots in my childhood… with a woman whose patience I know I pushed to its furthest limits.

Her name was Eleanor West. She lived a couple blocks from us, a few doors down from that church on the corner of 34th Avenue & Elmore Street in Magnolia, and she was a bible school teacher. She called her group of kids “The Good News Club”, and the little red-painted, white trim home she shared with her husband is where she taught us once a week after school.

I’m not sure how my mom found Mrs. West or why she decided to sign me up, but later in life Mrs. West told me how my mom actually sat in on the classes a few times, in the beginning, to make sure this was all legit.

Now, Mrs. West was one of those people in life (as were most of my grade school teachers) who I only ever knew when they were already wrinkly old. This was also a phase of my life when I was ADD boy and pretty energetic. You might also substitute the word “hyperactive” and that would work too.

Basically, I drove adults crazy.

So I know for a fact that I was not a source of peace and joy in Mrs. West’s life. Neither did I learn much from her bible school.

I would’ve had to be paying attention for that to happen.

I don’t know when I stopped attending “The Good News Club” but figure just as soon as grade school became Jr. High, if not sooner. I’m also not aware of when Mrs. West started doing this after I stopped attending, but every year on my birthday, December 23rd, she would walk the couple blocks to my house and drop off a birthday gift and a Christmas gift.

These were not extravagant gifts, of course, neither were they ever anything I wanted. In fact, I don’t remember a single present she gave me, although I do remember the scribbly handwriting attached to these small gifts and how they were not, let us say, professionally wrapped.

Eventually, Mrs. West was no longer able to walk the two blocks to my home, so I started going over to her place either on my birthday or Christmas Eve.

Why did I do this?

Well, either out of habit… or because my mom sent me over there.

Even so, I was a teenage boy, and Mrs. West and I didn’t seem to have much to talk about that I found interesting. So those first times spent in her home were mostly characterized by me figuring out the earliest opportunity I could legitimately leave.

Yeah.

Somewhere in there... I grew up.

No, really, I did.

And those times spent in Mrs. West’s home became both a kind of yearly telling of our stories as well as an opportunity to learn more about this woman I’d known for so long… but didn’t know at all.

I became fascinated with the history of her life... for hers was a life that began waaaaaaay back on July 30, 1901.

Nineteen. Oh. One.

Needless to say... there was a lot to tell.

Now, one of the different things about going over to Mrs. West’s house is that the tv was always on kind of loud. The 700 Club is what I remember most. The news a lot, too.  She had no problem tracking our conversations, though.

The first time something about her struck me as not right... was that time she became suddenly and terribly distracted by the tv. It was a news “talking head” shot, and she had the distinct impression the person doing the talking was speaking directly to her. Speaking directly…

To her.

Moments later, she seemed to shake herself out of it and explained what was happening.

There were indeed times, as it turns out, she truly believed people in her television set were having conversations with her.  

For a couple or three years, Mrs. West lived in this area between lucidity and full dementia. She was aware of her mental faculties slipping away.

And so it went.

At least one year in there, whilst Kimmer and I were dating, I brought Kimmer with me as well. It was possible to have conversation with Mrs. West, you just had to allow for such time as she mentally went off-line.

She still remembered tons, though.

I don’t recall the last time we were at her house, but one year I telephoned before heading over only to discover that she’d had some kind of medical event and was at what's now Genesis Healthcare: Ballard Center, a short- and long-term healthcare facility barely south of Holman Road on 8th Avenue Northwest. Kimmer went out there with me not long afterward.

It was, I’m certain, the last time we saw Mrs. West alive. We didn’t get to speak with her... because whatever happened had left her in a coma. What struck me, though, was that she physically looked the best and healthiest I’d ever seen. Someone in her life was providing for amazing physical care as the clock ticked away the final months of that life.

I called again the next year... and by that time she had, of course, died.

February 1, 1994.

She was buried at Mount Pleasant Cemetery, the one I used to pass all the time on my way to Queen Anne High. So instead of visiting at her little red home or the assisted living facility, I paid my last respects with a little card and a red poinsettia on the plaque marking her final resting place.

It was my way of saying Thank You, Mrs. West.

And that was that.

Only it wasn’t.

Every year, as Christmas draws ever nearer, she comes to mind.

She died in 1994 and I've thought of her ever since at Christmastime.

In the years following my visit to her gravesite, I've continued to leave my respects, thankfulness, and a poinsettia by her grave. Not without fail, of course, some years it doesn’t work out. Like I missed 2019 and then wasn't able in 2020 due to COVID restrictions.

Gah.

At this point it's the 22nd and yes. I've got a poinsettia. I've got a card in which I wrote a little message.

So we'll see.

There's gotta be a little time in the next week.

Still, why do it? Why is there even the need?

Good questions.

You can certainly look at it as habit or tradition... and that would be legit.

You can look at it as a gesture of thankfulness... and that would be true as well.

You can even look at it as one of those lasting connections human beings are sometimes fortunate to make.

Me?

I think of it as a reminder to myself, and anyone else who cares, that once upon a time there was a vibrant woman who, even though I drove her to distraction, managed to still show me what patience and grace look like. Up close... and in person.

The story of her life was a faith that empowered her to, and did indeed, make a difference.

Not only in my life...

But in the lives of a lot of other children as well.

Amen.

Photos from today...

#bible school teacher #poinsettia #thoughts #prayers #when i was a kid