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orionsangel86 · 1 year

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I don't often ever really talk about these things but like, does anyone else have MAJOR franchise fatigue?

Marvel, Star Wars, Disney, HARRY FUCKING POTTER

I am so done with them all.

I'm gonna rant about Harry Potter for a bit. Fair warning.

I got tired of Harry Potter well over 10 years ago. The final movies hadn't even been released and because I have the disadvantage of living in bloody England Harry Potter bullshit has been EVERYWHERE for TWO FUCKING DECADES. I remember my friend dragging me to the studio tour because she got tickets for her bday. I like movie BTS stuff but my god the amount of BUY THIS BUY THAT that gets shoved in your face drove me mad. Proud to say that other than the OG books I read when I was a teenager I have never owned a single bit of HP merchandise in my LIFE. It took my irl friends bullying me to finally go on pottermore and get sorted into a Hogwarts house when I was 27. TWENTYSEVEN. I resisted for years!! I don't even care. They sat me down and made me log on to that stupid website and take the stupid quiz whilst I raised an eyebrow the whole time and tried to smile and pretend it was fun. After all, I'm not actually a total bitch and they are my friends and were enjoying themselves and I didn't wanna upset them. But why do I need to know if I'm a hufflepuff or whatever? Oh thats right, so I can buy the appropriate MERCHANDISE.

You know real witches make their wands? They go out and find a tree and ask the tree if they can take a branch, you have to give the tree something back and say a blessing. You can add crystals or ribbon or whatever you want but a wand is NOT something you buy in a bloody shop. I hate that HP made kids think that.

Why would anyone wanna buy a game about a nearly 3 decade old franchise thats been shoved in all our faces practically our whole lives (if you are a millennial or younger). Im not a gamer anyway so I don't get the appeal but even without all the transphobia and antisemitism involved the whole concept is extremely tiresome to me.

Can we please be done with Harry Potter now??? I dont wanna see it. I dont wanna see anything about it. I didnt give a fuck when I was in my early twenties and I dont give a fuck now in my late thirties its never been any fucking good. Its a rip off of Lord of the rings crossed with the writing of Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman anyway.

For years I felt awkward even mentioning to people that I didnt like Harry Potter, like it was a cardinal sin or something. I'm glad people are finally seeing it for what it truly it, even though I wish it didnt take the lives and rights of transpeople to get to this point. Its disgusting that its still so damn popular even WITH JKRs blatant transphobia. I hope the boycotts work. Trans and Jewish people you have my love and support, for both your sakes and so that bloody franchise can stop being shoved in my face everytime I leave the bloody house. Im glad people are finally picking it apart and realising how problematic it was. Things I think made me uncomfortable about it before I really understood the depth of reasons why.

I have been obsessed with witchcraft and paganism since I was a child. I was a weird kid. Harry Potter turned something I was passionate about in a deeply personal way into a consumerist nightmare. Witch became synonymous with it, spells, charms, magic, I'm honestly surprised JKR didnt try to copyright the terms.

Look I dont often talk about social issues. My tumblr is my escape from the injustices of the world and I take my mental health very seriously. But I support trans and jewish people in boycotting this game.

I care about trans rights, about the rights of LGBTQA+ people. The rise of antisemitism AGAIN deeply disturbs me. People truly never learn from history do they? I try to do my bit where I can offline. I have signed petitions, I have donated to causes where I have found them and I am most definitely gonna do my damndest to get everyone I know to vote the transphobic (and otherwise generally evil in every way) Tory government OUT at the next election.

This rant may come across a bit selfish. It is tbh. I am fucking glad Harry Potter isnt popular anymore. Though outside of online communities particularly in the UK its still huge and everywhere. I wish we could wipe it off the face of the Earth.

I am fed up of all these franchises though. If I never have to sit through another Marvel movie it'll be a happy day. If I never have to hear the fucking Star Wars theme again I'll celebrate, if I never have to read about another Disney remake again Ill be so relieved (although I do get some satisfaction reading about them flopping). This post capitalism hellscape we exist in is fucking exhausting.

What we really need to do with these franchises though is pull an Avatar on them (the blue people not the cool cartoon). We need to stop talking about them. Stop letting them infect our collective cultural consciousness. The only way to get them out of our faces is to actually let them die. We did it right with Fantastic Beasts. We can do it again. Remember that in capitalism, even negative press is good press, and the more the press focuses on the controversies and discourse, the more the name of the game is getting into the minds of consumers, especially those that dont give a fuck about trans rights or antisemitism.

I dont know where it ends, but my god I hope it HAS an end. Something surely has got to give right? Anyways. I dunno if there was a point to this rant other than im fed up of a lot of things and feeling particularly grumpy today, but anyways. Boycott Harry Potter and all things related to it.

Support trans rights. Trans women are women. Trans men are men. Enough of this bullshit already.

#anti harry potter #boycott hogwarts legacy #trans rights #personal #sometimes i need to rant #and today was one of those days

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thoughtlessthinkythoughts · 3 years

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From Jonny’s recent stream:

Ko-fi: Hi Jonny. I was wondering if you have a particular audience in mind when you write. Thanks for the streams.

Jonny: Like, I do and I don't, like, it's weird because Magnus has taken off quite a lot among, like, sort of, queer teens. Basically, and so, I feel a bit bad when I often say the audience I'm writing for is them in about 10-15 years. Uh, just, because a lot of my writing is informed by like, the world of work and day jobs and small and petty compromises that you end up having to make, like just throughout life, and like I feel like some of that. It doesn’t entirely get, to say that some of that gets lost is ..it feels too dismissive of the audience that we have which is great, and I legitimately am so grateful and really, really love the audience that Magnus especially has gathered. But it is interesting the differences between that and the audience that like in my mind I’ve always been writing for, I guess, so it’s a weird one.

What I really hope is that the people who love Magnus at the moment, a lot of the younger ones, revisit it further on in their life and get new and different things out of it. That’s what my deal....[at this point Jonny gets distracted by the game.]

#tma #the magnus archives #i thought this was interesting #and that this was a very thoughtful answer #and of course there are plenty of highly mature teens and immature adults in fandom #but it is fascinating to see how teens interpret a show #that is the most late twenties early thirties millennial thing ever #I saw people discussing this but not the full text #apologies if anyone else already transcribed this #feel free to reblog with commentary

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amanda-glassen · 3 years

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The Wonder Years: Ch.2

Part of @svuappreciation #WSVU Week Day 1: Getting ready for a party. While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Sequel to this post

Olivia loved the outfit she and her mom had picked out, but when she looked in the mirror the next morning, there was still one thing she wanted to change about herself－her hair. Olivia’s shoulder length hair was usually in a ponytail for the purpose of keeping it out of her way when she played sports, but that morning, she realized she wanted a change. She wanted to have her hair neatly cropped like Jamie’s－her mom’s new girlfriend. Olivia had met her two weeks ago when their relationship became official and, although she wasn’t into sports or anything else Olivia was interested in, she made her mom happy and, if her mom liked her, Olivia wanted to give her a chance.

What she found intriguing was that Jamie didn’t wear dresses and heels and makeup like her mom. She wore ties and vests when they went out on dates and her mom used words like ‘handsome’ and ‘debonair’ to describe her to her friends instead of ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ and, when she looked at her hair in the mirror that morning, she realized she wanted to be handsome and debonair, too. Maybe not debonair after all, Olivia thought. I did run away when Alex flirted with me for the first time.

Three hours later, Olivia found herself sitting in a chair at a barbershop that Jamie worked at. It was upscale, but made to look rustic, and most of the employees and the patrons were twenty-something and thirty-something hipsters with beards and flannel shirts. Jamie and Olivia were two of only three females there, but Olivia loved the vibe and the way she was made to feel like she fit in.

“I want my hair like yours,” Olivia told Jamie once she sat down in the chair. Jamie’s hair was neatly cut into a classic side part haircut and Olivia knew it was the look for her.

With every inch of her hair that was cut, Olivia felt like she was becoming who she was always meant to be. She didn’t have to feel confused anymore or worry about why she didn’t fit into the cookie cutter expectation of what a girl should be. Olivia Margaret Benson could now define her identity on her own terms.

As soon as Jamie was finished, Olivia walked over to the chairs in the waiting area to show her mom. “Mom, how do I look?”

Serena nearly gasped when she saw her daughter. “Come closer so I can get a better look at you.” She began to touch her daughter’s newly cropped hair. “You little Cassanova. Look at you! I’m not letting you go out tonight. I don’t want Alex and every other girl at the dance to fall in love with you and steal you away from me.”

“Mom!” Olivia giggled. “I look okay?”

“Very handsome,” Serena responded. She playfully kissed her daughter’s cheek and Olivia giggled again as she tried to wipe off the red lipstick print that her mom had left on her cheek.

“Mom, not in front of the guys,” Olivia said while she looked around to make sure no one was watching.

“I’m not letting you wash that lipstick off,” Serena teased. “I’m going to make sure it stays on your cheek to deter Alex from kissing you there.”

Olivia smirked. “She’ll just kiss me on the lips.”

“Ollie!” Serena’s eyes grew wide. “That’s it. No dating until you’re twenty.”

Olivia noticed Jamie walking over with a face wipe in hand. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“Here, kid,” she said as she handed it to Olivia. “I keep these at my station because your mom has a tendency to mark her territory. Just be grateful she didn’t wear her burgundy lipstick. That stuff stained my cheek for the rest of the day. But, Ollie, I’ll be over in a couple of hours to help you get ready for tonight. I have some gifts for you, too.”

“Really?” Olivia asked. “Thanks!” Under normal circumstances, only her mom would be able to get away with calling her Ollie, but since gifts were involved, she figured one more person calling her Ollie couldn’t hurt.

As soon as she got home, Olivia scarfed down a frozen pizza for dinner despite her mom offering to make something much healthier. “Frozen pizza gives me energy,” Olivia told her. “And now that there’s less than ninety minutes until it’s time to leave, I need all the energy I can get.”

While her daughter was eating, Serena began to iron Olivia’s outfit, mainly because she didn’t trust her twelve-year-old’s ironing skills before such an important event in her life.

“Mom! I’ll get it!” Olivia called out when she heard a knock at their door. It’s Jamie with my gifts! Olivia opened the door to find Jamie holding a dozen roses and she tried unsuccessfully to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she figured that might be her gift.

“Relax, kid,” Jamie laughed. “Only one of these is for you. Eleven are for me to give to my woman and one is for you to give to yours.”

“...girls really like this sort of thing?” Olivia asked as she examined the perfect red rose Jamie had handed to her.

“A single red rose is one of the most romantic things you can give your girlfriend,” Jamie pointed out.

“Then why eleven for my mom?”

“Because eleven months ago today, I had my first date with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jamie smiled at her.

Olivia gave her a confused look. “You started dating her eleven months ago and she barely became your girlfriend two weeks ago. What took so long?”

Jamie tousled Olivia’s hair. “You of all people should know that you can’t tell Serena Benson what to do. If it were up to me, she would have become my girlfriend the day I met her, but I wanted to wait until she was ready. Even if I had to wait years, your mom is worth the wait.”

“Was I supposed to hear that?” Serena asked when she entered the living room. She had changed into a somewhat short black sweater dress and black stilettos with a 4 inch heel. How anyone could walk in those was beyond Olivia and she could imagine herself falling the moment she took her first step. I’d probably look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk.

“You look incredible.” Olivia noticed Jamie get up and make her way over to her mom. Do not kiss my mom. Much to Olivia’s chagrin, she did kiss her and even if it was a chaste kiss it made her mom smile in a way that Olivia had never seen her smile before and she was practically beaming when Jamie gave her the flowers. I still don’t want to see anyone kissing my mommy, though.

Olivia made a mental note to compliment Alex’s appearance and give her the rose. I guess girls really do go for that sort of thing. I wonder what else Jamie can teach me.

“Ollie, go get dressed,” Serena urged her. “We have to leave in an hour.”

Olivia groaned. “It doesn’t take an hour to put on pants and a shirt. The game is about to start.”

"Ollie!" Serena gritted her teeth. "Go get dressed."

"Oh, I get it," Olivia tried and failed to wink. "Get rid of the kid so you can kiss."

"No," Serena responded. She held out her hands to help her reluctant daughter off the couch despite the fact that Olivia would miss the first pitch of the Mets game. "I'm getting rid of my kid because she volunteered me to drive her and her girlfriend to the dance without telling me until today and I don't want Mrs. Cabot judging me for being late. I saw her at the parent/teacher conferences last trimester. The woman is...judgy."

"Judgy?" Jamie laughed. "Judgy says the Ivy League English professor. I know you're 10 or 15 years younger than the other moms but you're 33 and 33 is not a child, Serena."

"You're only saying that because you've yet to see Mrs. Cabot's 'you're an irresponsible Millennial' look," Serena responded, finally able to get Olivia off of the couch and away from the Mets game. "She looks you up and down as if she is judging every little detail of your appearance, smirks, and then looks you up and down again."

"Maybe she's just checking you out," Jamie shrugged. "Ever think of that?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Serena gently tugged Olivia’s arm. "Come on, Ollie."

Putting her outfit on took less than two minutes, so Olivia wondered why her mom made her get ready so early until she remembered that Jamie had some more gifts for her, one of which was a product for her hair. They were soon standing in front of the vanity mirror in her mom’s bedroom and Olivia was about to begin her first lesson. “This is my favorite pomade,” Jamie told her. “Your girl is gonna love the way it looks on you, kid.”

“Hopefully not too much,” Serena cut in. “She’s still my little Ollie.”

“Babe, your little Ollie has a date to get ready for,” Jamie reminded her. Olivia didn’t exactly approve of anyone calling her mom ‘babe,’ but she was eager for Jamie’s lesson to begin so she could look good for Alex. “Okay, kid, get a dime sized amount on your fingers and rub them together to get it all over your fingertips. We’re gonna keep your hair parted on the side just the way it is, but now we’re gonna slick this front part back and the side down. Move your fingers from just near the roots all the way to the tips and then use the palm of your hand to smooth your hair back.”

Olivia tried to mimic Jamie’s motions but she wasn’t pleased with the end result. “Why didn’t mine come out as good as yours?”

“I’ve had years of practice, kid,” Jamie said as she fixed Olivia’s hair. “It’ll become second nature before you know it and when you run out of this stuff let me know and I’ll get you some more.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Olivia responded while she admired her new hairstyle in the mirror.

“Next is your cologne. What do you usually wear?”

“A gummy bear scented body spray,” Olivia said sheepishly.

“Hey, don’t be shy about that,” Jamie said as she placed her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “That’s fine to wear for school or when you’re hanging out with your friends. I have an everyday body spray, too, and then cologne that I wear for more special occasions like when I take your mom out on a date.” She turned to face Serena. “Babe, can you get the cologne from my overnight bag?” Overnight bag? She’s staying overnight and calling my mom ‘babe’ again? But if my mom is happy then I guess she’s okay.

Serena handed Olivia the small bottle of Abercrombie & Fitch cologne that Jamie had purchased for her. “I don’t approve of you wearing anything other than your gummy bear spray,” Serena told her. “But I’m willing to let it slide for tonight.”

“Mom,” Olivia groaned. “Can we please let Jamie work her magic here?”

“Magic?” Serena tried not to laugh. “Don’t let me stand in the way of the magic woman herself.”

“I managed to get the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jamie reminded her. “That means I must have done something right.” That statement earned Jamie a few kisses, so Olivia decided to make a mental note. Compliments lead to kisses, so be sure to compliment Alex the entire night. What am I saying? I’ll probably faint if she kisses me.

“Okay, Ollie, spritz some of the cologne on yourself here and here,” Jamie said as she pointed to her neck and wrists. “Remember a little goes a long way. You don’t want your girl to start choking when she’s near you. This was my favorite when I was your age and I think you’ll like it, too.”

Olivia spritzed a small amount just as Jamie had instructed her. It smelled somewhat woodsy and very masculine and Olivia had a feeling Alex was going to love it on her.

“Your turn, Serena,” Olivia heard Jamie say.

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked worriedly.

“Relax, kid,” Jamie laughed. “Now it’s your mom’s turn to work her magic with the styling. She styles me all the time. I don’t know how but most girly girls are experts with sleeves and ties. You should let Alex cuff your sleeves before your next date.”

“Okay, I have two problems with what you said,” Serena began. “One, I’m a grown woman and not a girly girly and, two, can you stop trying to turn my Olliegator into some kind of stud like you? She’s still my baby.”

“I think she’s Alex’s now,” Jamie teased, although her girlfriend was less than amused.

Olivia stood in front of her mom while she styled her long sleeves into ¾ sleeves and tied her tie. It was a more intricate process than Olivia imagined, but her mom’s delicate touch made it all seem so easy. Once her tie was tucked in under her vest, Olivia noticed her mom’s big brown eyes welling with tears.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, reaching out to touch Olivia’s cheek. “You just look so handsome, Ollie, and so grown up. I feel like just yesterday you were wanting me to cuddle you and now you’re going on your first date. It’s all happening so fast.”

Olivia gave her mom a kiss on the cheek. “Alex is my girlfriend, but I’ll always be your Ollie and I’ll always love you more than anyone else in the whole world.”

“I love you so much, darling,” Serena said softly. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to hug Olivia without wrinkling her shirt, but she tried to anyway. “I want you to enjoy yourself. Jamie is going to keep me company so I’m not a nervous wreck, and then when you get home tonight, I want you to tell me that you had the best night of your life because you deserve it, Ollie. You’re such a sweet kid and you deserve so many good things to happen to you.”

The drive to Alex’s house felt like an eternity for Olivia, especially with her mom’s playlist of ‘00s pop music playing throughout the entire drive. When Jamie pulled into the Cabot’s driveway, a pep talk felt appropriate. “You’ve got this, kid,” she said to Olivia who was nervously clutching the stem of the rose she was going to give to her girlfriend. “Alex is gonna love your new look.” Jamie then kissed Serena’s hand. “And babe, try to play nice with Mrs. Cabot.”

#WSVU Week #cabenson #alex cabot #olivia benson #alex and liv: the wonder years

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bookishpower · 3 years

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One of the most awesome parts of my job is that I get to evaluate programmers who want to put on programs at our library system, or go out and search for them on my own.

What’s not always so great is when they come to me, because then I have to try and figure out if they actually are subject experts or trying to secretly sell something (essential oils pyramid schemers, I’m looking at you).

Pre-pandemic, though, I was called up to talk to a guy who wanted to do motivational speaking at our library. He walked in and wanted to know how to talk to me. He had filled out a worksheet we provide for people who want to put on programs, and I’d seen it and promptly ignored it, because he listed no qualifications or previous speaking engagements, attached no resume or speaking/program outline. But he wasn’t going to take my polite silence sitting down, hence a visit to the library.

I met him at circulation and shook his hand, and indicated that we should sit and talk at the armchairs nearby. (For story purposes that will become clear later, I put him in his late sixties, early seventies)

I sat down, and instead of taking the chair next to or across from me, he perched himself on the armrest of my chair. I told him that this was liable to make it tip and that he should sit in his own chair. (Did not mention that it made me rather uncomfortable) Not a great beginning. My work dress was appropriate, but if you had his vantage point right above me, you could see straight down the cleavage.

I asked him to tell me about his public speaking experience, and perhaps outline what he thought would make a great program that people would want to attend.

He launched into his life story, which I won’t detail, but was mostly a STEM background with no speaking experience. I asked him if he’d ever done this before, and he said that he was a manager, so he was used to public speaking. Not quite the same thing, but I could tell he wasn’t done.

I asked him more about what he wanted to speak about, and he started talking about how he wanted to help millennials be successful in the workplace, and how they could start getting jobs, how they could be professional in them, because he realized they were starting out in the job market, and needed some good advice about how to fit into business norms.

“They’re just not professional!” he complained. “The colored hair and the ear piercings and the inappropriate clothing...”

Before he could go on a total Fox News rant, I asked him why he wanted to do this. Sometimes I get sincere answers, sometimes lies, sometimes just blank stares, but it helps me understand a little more about who I’m interviewing.

And this was where he got a little emotional. He revealed that he has a teenage son, and that he’s aware he’s having him later in life, and knows that he won’t be there for all of the big things in his son’s life, and wants his son to remember him as a success. He referred to his son as a millennial.

At this point, I kind of brought things to a halt and told him that the library wouldn’t be hosting his talks. He started to protest, and I told him that if he wanted to host a talk on workplace professionalism, he should probably not start an interview by sitting on the armrest of a chair currently occupied by someone. I also noted that I was a millennial, that most of our generation was in our late twenties and mid-to-late thirties, and had been in the workplace for some time - additionally, that his son was Gen Z, not a millennial.

But so as not to end it on a down note, and because I could tell he was really hurting over his son, I recommended that if he wanted to make his son proud of him, he spend time with his son and tell him about the things he had accomplished, but mostly, to spend time with him now.

He looked a bit shook, but seemed to take it in, shook my hand, and left. I hope they’re doing okay.

#librarianproblems #librarylife #programming #interpretation between generations #millennials #explainingthingstoboomers

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kindledspiritsbooks · 4 years

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My Month in Books: November 2019

Ninth House - Leigh Bardugo

Galaxy “Alex” Stern is the most unlikely member of Yale’s freshman class. Raised in the Los Angeles hinterlands by a hippie mom, Alex dropped out of school early and into a world of shady drug dealer boyfriends, dead-end jobs, and much, much worse. By age twenty, in fact, she is the sole survivor of a horrific, unsolved multiple homicide. Some might say she’s thrown her life away. But at her hospital bed, Alex is offered a second chance: to attend one of the world’s most elite universities on a full ride. What’s the catch, and why her? Still searching for answers to this herself, Alex arrives in New Haven tasked by her mysterious benefactors with monitoring the activities of Yale’s secret societies. These eight windowless “tombs” are well-known to be haunts of the future rich and powerful, from high-ranking politicos to Wall Street and Hollywood’s biggest players. But their occult activities are revealed to be more sinister and more extraordinary than any paranoid imagination might conceive.

The White Album - Joan Didion

First published in 1979, "The White Album "is a journalistic mosaic" "of American life in the late 1960s and throughout the 1970s. It includes, among other bizarre artifacts and personalities, reportage on the dark journeys and impulses of the Manson family, a visit to a Black Panther Party press conference, the story of John Paul Getty's museum, a meditation on the romance of water in an arid landscape, and reflections on the swirl and confusion that marked this era. With commanding sureness of mood and language, Didion exposes the realities and dreams of an age of self-discovery whose spiritual center was California.

An Echo in the Bone - Diana Gabaldon

Jamie Fraser, erstwhile Jacobite and reluctant rebel, knows three things about the American rebellion: the Americans will win, unlikely as that seems in 1778; being on the winning side is no guarantee of survival; and he’d rather die than face his illegitimate son — a young lieutenant in the British Army — across the barrel of a gun. Fraser’s time-travelling wife, Claire, also knows a couple of things: that the Americans will win, but that the ultimate price of victory is a mystery. What she does believe is that the price won’t include Jamie’s life or happiness — not if she has anything to say.

Claire’s grown daughter Brianna, and her husband, Roger, watch the unfolding of Brianna’s parents’ history — a past that may be sneaking up behind their own family.

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion - Jia Tolentino

Trick Mirror is an enlightening, unforgettable trip through the river of self-delusion that surges just beneath the surface of our lives. This is a book about the incentives that shape us, and about how hard it is to see ourselves clearly in a culture that revolves around the self. In each essay, Jia writes about the cultural prisms that have shaped her: the rise of the nightmare social internet; the American scammer as millennial hero; the literary heroine’s journey from brave to blank to bitter; the mandate that everything, including our bodies, should always be getting more efficient and beautiful until we die.

Three Women - Lisa Taddeo

It thrills us and torments us. It controls our thoughts and destroys our lives. It’s all we live for. Yet we almost never speak of it. And as a buried force in our lives, desire remains largely unexplored—until now. Over the past eight years, journalist Lisa Taddeo has driven across the country six times to embed herself with ordinary women from different regions and backgrounds. The result, Three Women, is the deepest nonfiction portrait of desire ever written. We begin in suburban Indiana with Lina, a homemaker and mother of two whose marriage, after a decade, has lost its passion. She passes her days cooking and cleaning for a man who refuses to kiss her on the mouth, protesting that “the sensation offends” him. To Lina’s horror, even her marriage counselor says her husband’s position is valid. Starved for affection, Lina battles daily panic attacks. When she reconnects with an old flame through social media, she embarks on an affair that quickly becomes all-consuming. In North Dakota we meet Maggie, a seventeen-year-old high school student who finds a confidant in her handsome, married English teacher. By Maggie’s account, supportive nightly texts and phone calls evolve into a clandestine physical relationship, with plans to skip school on her eighteenth birthday and make love all day; instead, he breaks up with her on the morning he turns thirty. A few years later, Maggie has no degree, no career, and no dreams to live for. When she learns that this man has been named North Dakota’s Teacher of the Year, she steps forward with her story—and is met with disbelief by former schoolmates and the jury that hears her case. The trial will turn their quiet community upside down. Finally, in an exclusive enclave of the Northeast, we meet Sloane—a gorgeous, successful, and refined restaurant owner—who is happily married to a man who likes to watch her have sex with other men and women. He picks out partners for her alone or for a threesome, and she ensures that everyone’s needs are satisfied. For years, Sloane has been asking herself where her husband’s desire ends and hers begins. One day, they invite a new man into their bed—but he brings a secret with him that will finally force Sloane to confront the uneven power dynamics that fuel their lifestyle. Based on years of immersive reporting, and told with astonishing frankness and immediacy, Three Women is a groundbreaking portrait of erotic longing in today’s America, exposing the fragility, complexity, and inequality of female desire with unprecedented depth and emotional power. It is both a feat of journalism and a triumph of storytelling, brimming with nuance and empathy, that introduces us to three unforgettable women—and one remarkable writer—whose experiences remind us that we are not alone

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merlyozknocker · 4 years

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My Month in Books: November 2019

Ninth House - Leigh Bardugo

The White Album - Joan Didion

First published in 1979, “The White Album "is a journalistic mosaic” “of American life in the late 1960s and throughout the 1970s. It includes, among other bizarre artifacts and personalities, reportage on the dark journeys and impulses of the Manson family, a visit to a Black Panther Party press conference, the story of John Paul Getty’s museum, a meditation on the romance of water in an arid landscape, and reflections on the swirl and confusion that marked this era. With commanding sureness of mood and language, Didion exposes the realities and dreams of an age of self-discovery whose spiritual center was California.

An Echo in the Bone - Diana Gabaldon

Claire’s grown daughter Brianna, and her husband, Roger, watch the unfolding of Brianna’s parents’ history — a past that may be sneaking up behind their own family.

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion - Jia Tolentino

Three Women - Lisa Taddeo

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c-is-for-circinate · 6 years

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A funny thing that happened this week: I think I finally understand at least one side of the ‘damn kids these days with their phones and their internet’ argument in a way that actually has a lot of resonance with me?

I was co-leading a community engagement workshop (I do community engagement work now??? I’m a freaking biologist, but life and non-profit work takes you funny places, and now I’m a person who teaches community engagement, and I’m actually good at it, go figure--in part because of things the internet taught me, both in the ‘good example’ and ‘bad example’ ways) with about 35 people in it, which is a pretty huge group for us. There’s some really neat diversity in this group, too. We’re still, on the whole, far more white than we’d like, but we’ve got a really wide age range, a really obviously wide socioeconomic spread, several trans and non-binary trainees, and just generally a pretty big spread of different types of folks with different life experiences and opinions.

Which is awesome.

The big theme of our community engagement training is that every community is different. We can’t tell you how to engage your community, specifically--we can teach you how to talk to your community and learn who they are in particular so they can tell you how to engage them yourself. Having a group full of people with such diverse communities in their lives can be really great for driving that point home. (Plus we’re not doing our job right if we’re only talking to people from one specific kind of community in the first place.) We love it. It just also causes friction sometimes.

So we had a trainee--youngish guy, probably about 30, very much a millennial, talking about how he’s lived in apartments in three completely different neighborhoods in the past six years and it’s really hard for him to feel connected to any of the geographic communities he’s lived in because it’s so temporary. Which is a really relatable, cool, and interesting point to consider in our ‘community’ of millennials-in-our-early-thirties-who-still-rent-apartments-and-don’t-know-our-neighbors. (There are a lot of us.)

But this led, through various discussion, to another trainee chiming in. She’s a Black woman in her late 60′s who still lives in the same low-income neighborhood where she raised her children decades ago. And she was talking about cell phones.

What she said--and at first this really did sound like a tangent into the same old cell phone rant--was that part of the reason young people aren’t connecting with their communities is because they’re too busy connecting with a screen. She sees kids in her neighborhood walking around looking down at their phones instead of up at their neighbors. The older generation, she said, didn’t need those. Didn’t have them. Doesn’t know how to use them.

All things we’ve heard before, right? And so another trainee spoke up. Young college kid, maybe twenty-ish years old. Outspoken. White kid with they/them pronouns. They reminded me, I remember thinking when I first met them, of someone I’d run into on Tumblr. They probably have a Tumblr.

And they were really offended. They said, don’t devalue and look down this thing that we use to keep in contact with our communities. You don’t even understand. You don’t even try to understand. This thing has value. They basically gave the pissed-off argument Tumblr echoes amongst ourselves when we run into another article on Those Damn Kids And Their Cell Phones, only I think this might have been the first time I actually heard it coming out of someone other than me, directly to the source of criticism in person.

And as the older trainee went into explaining that she’s not against cell phones, she just wishes people would look up for an hour, and the younger trainee fumed in self-righteousness, and my coworker finally got a word in edgewise to table the whole discussion and move on productively please, I realized--they are saying the exact same thing.

I have a community and I love my community. (I love this neighborhood, where I’ve lived for decades, where I’ve been for good times and tough times and seen people come and go and watched people grow, that’s supported me for so many years. I love my internet friends, the disparate group of hard-won people like me, a thing that means so much in my life it’s almost magic, that I can’t see in person all the time or maybe even ever.)

In this community that I love, we talk to each other a certain way. That’s how we communicate. That’s our culture and part of the fabric of what binds us together. (We text and we chat and we like each others’ posts and we have three different conversations at once and we nightblog each other through insomnia and it keeps us sane and alive. We say hello on the street and we check in if we haven’t seen someone in a while and we keep an eye on each others’ children and know each others’ names and watch out for each other because this is a hard scary world and we need to.)

In my community, we acknowledge each other. We recognize each other as people and it makes us more fulfilled and more secure and more human, because this is what a community does for each other. This matters.

We like each others’ selfies. We wave hello in the street. We recognize each other as part of a culture and a community that we share.

And YOU, person-not-in-my-community, you maybe don’t belong there and you’re not really invited, but. People like you refuse to get it. They refuse to acknowledge my community as important. They won’t participate. They won’t even learn the rules of participation. And a whole world would open up to them, if they would just try.

I guarantee the young trainee has read six million articles on how millennials have murdered everything good in the world and Gen Z is gearing up to be even worse. I guarantee they’ve heard people demonize the technology they’ve used to find people to support them when their geographical community couldn’t or wouldn’t, a million times over. Because we’ve all been there. And it fucking sucks. It is the collective social devaluing of our community. And we all know how that is.

But the older trainee was saying--my community is being devalued, too. The little acts of acknowledgement that bind or bound her community together--people who know each others’ names and look at each other in recognition, people who are loyal to this place--her neighborhood that she loves is now full of people who don’t engage in those ways. Who won’t engage in any of the ways she and the people like her, aging and elderly, a community in their own right that’s been through decades together, know how.

She wants the people around her to recognize her community and learn their language. Which ends up sounding really, really familiar.

I don’t know if there’s a moral to this story. Self-righteousness and self-defense often sound really, really alike, and frequently enough they come out in the same breath. There are lots of community engagement principles we teach that Tumblr could stand to learn, but Tumblr’s not a monolith either, for all we talk about it like one. But it’s interesting to hear somebody make the argument you usually make yourself, and finally be in a position to realize the other side might have a point. It’s interesting to think about how we self-select for the communities we most want to talk to just by talking a certain way. It’s interesting to realize just how similar the bare bones of needing human connection become, whatever trappings we put on them.

Community engagement is really cool.

#tales from the RL front #this seemed like a good story for Tumblr to enjoy #or think about #or cuss me out for idk our Tumblr community is kind of a wreck sometimes #but only we get to say that because we're us #and that's part of it too #I might have more stories from this group as the course goes on #this is going to be An Interesting One

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stupidfanfics · 6 years

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Till Death Do Us Part: A Barry Allen Fan Fiction

Chapter 4: Begin Again

Word Count: 3,710

College was like a five-year vacation for me. It really gave me the chance to find out who I really was and start what I thought would soon be the majority of my life.

But, if there was one thing I could never get off my mind, it was how I had left my life in Central City.

Of my four years staying in Seattle, I never visited my mom, she only came to visit me. Which, in my defense, makes sense. I had no one to talk to in Central City, but she had friends in Seattle. Anyways, even after getting my purple hair, and a few tattoos here and there, there was still some kind of guilt that was hidden behind my rebellious lifestyle.

The guilt of leaving Barry Allen in my wake.

And if I wasn’t such an anxious person, I would have hopped on a plane and fixed things with him as soon as I could. So, for about five years (I took a year off to travel), I continually battled with my conscience on whether or not I should fix my old life.

Then the coincidence occurred...

It was another gloomy day in Seattle and I was walking to Pike Place to pick up my morning coffee and muffin. The heels of my black knee-high boots hit the concrete at a rather quick pace, as I rushed over to a small cafe before work. My skirt wasn't helping me walk any faster either, my legs felt like they were slightly bonded together, shortening my strides. I continued walking as fast as I could, clutching my purse as I made my way down the streets. Then my phone began to ring, causing me to stop in my tracks. No one ever called me, at least not this early in the morning. I looked at my phone screen staring at the unknown number, deciding to accept the call after two more rings.

“Hello?” I asked, nervousness in my tone.

“Hello, is this Miss Monica Bell?”

“Um, yes?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“Miss Bell, this is Dr. Harrison Wells from S.T.A.R. Labs…” I didn’t answer so he continued, “Well, somebody sent me your resume, and I was reading over it yesterday and I’d really like to offer you a position here.”

“A-at S.T.A.R. Labs?” I dumbly questioned.

“Yes, I know it’s not your main field of study but we really need a Biologist on the team.”

“Biologist? For what?”

“Well, as you may know, the Particle Accelerator will be started in a week and we need some biologist to study any effects it has on the environment. Or anything living for that matter.”

I bit my lip, the position sounded great, I had always dreamed of working at S.T.A.R. Labs. But, was I really ready to go back to Central City?

“Ms. Bell? Monica?” Dr. Wells’ voice broke me from my thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Will you accept the position?”

To hell with it, I thought, I live for taking risks.

“I will, when do I start?”

Within three days, I packed up my stuff, left my shared apartment, and moved back to the place I called home for seven years. Stepping out of the airport, a burst of nostalgia coursed through my veins. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the city’s air. I was home, I was where I belonged.

“Monica!” my mom shouted running towards me, engulfing in a huge hug once she was close enough.

“Mom.” I smiled back. “So you’re here for good now?”

“Yes, Mom, I thought we already covered this.”

“Right. What happened to those lilac locks of yours?”

I rolled my eyes, “Well, purple hair didn’t seem very appropriate for a job at S.T.A.R. Labs- speaking of which, you still need to explain why exactly you sent in my resume! Anyways, I set up an emergency hair appointment and got it dyed back to a natural color.”

“Well, it still looks great. Ready to head home?” she asked. I nodded my head, eager to crawl into bed and sleep.

The next morning I woke up pretty late, seeing that I didn’t start work for another two or three days. So, after straightening my hair and throwing on a black dress, some light makeup, and my glasses, I began my walk to the best coffee shop on this planet. CC Jitters. Walking down the streets of Central City, I couldn’t help but smile. Central City has always had that modern-suburbs feel to it which was oddly comforting. Opening the familiar glass doors, the aroma of coffee beans and steamed milk filled my nostrils. I walked up to the counter, heels clanking loudly on the floor.

Narrator’s POV

Iris and Barry were sitting in Jitters Wednesday afternoon during Iris’ lunch break. Barry was rambling on and on about the Particle Accelerator that was set to go off in about two days. Iris’ was trying to act interested, but really she was just unconvincingly nodding her heading letting out a “Mhhm” every few sentences.

“I mean imagine all of the advances in science they could discover. A cure for cancer, new elements, the ability t-” Barry cut himself off, turning his head to face the source of the loud clicking behind him. A tall, blonde woman wearing a black dress and glasses walked into the coffee shop, catching the eyes of every customer and employee.

“Hi, one bulletproof coffee,” she chirped to the cashier.

“Is that…” Barry’s words dragged out, so Iris finished his sentence for him. “...Monica?” Barry and Iris looked into each other’s eyes, sharing the pure emotion of shock. The possibly familiar face of Monica Lucille Bell stepped off to the side to wait for her order.

“What is she doing here, wasn’t she supposed to stay in Seattle?” Iris mumbled to Barry.

“How do expect me to know? I haven’t talked to her in five years!” Barry shouted back in a hushed tone.

Iris cocked her head to the side, “I don’t know, it just seems a little fishy that she shows up here the day after you come back from Starling.”

“Maybe she’s visiting her mom-” Barry suggested.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Iris stood up, pushing in her stool.

“No, no, no.” Barry breathed trying to get Iris to stop, but miserably failing. “Iris!” he shouted turning red.

Monica’s POV

I snapped my head around hearing a familiar name, my eyes landing on a dark-haired woman.

“Iris?” I sang, walking up to my childhood friend, engulfing her in a tight hug.

“Monica, I’ve missed you so much. How’s Seattle?” Iris asked me, as we stepped back to face each other. Unsure of how to approach the matter I just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Seattle was good.”

“Was?” Iris pressed on, doing exactly what I was hoping she wouldn’t.

“Yeah, um, I actually just moved back here yesterday.” Iris’ eyebrows stood up, a toothy grin growing on her face. Suddenly she grabbed my hand, pulling me to a table where a young man was sitting with his face tilted towards the ground.

“Ba-”

“Barry?” I whispered when he brought his face up, his eyes meeting mine. What four years did to him is still a mystery to me. I had never expected nerdy, awkward Barry Allen to grow into the twenty-something-year-old sitting in front of me. He waved his hand at me, giving subtle tight lip smile.

“As I was about to say,” Iris continued, “Barry, Monica’s moving back to Central City!” Barry’s eyebrows rose like Iris’ did minutes before, but not to show excitement.

“Oh, um, r-really? That’s great…”

“Yeah, I got a job offer at S.T.A.R. Labs. They need some biologists to do research after the Particle Accelerator goes off.” Barry and Iris raised their eyebrows in unison.

“You mean the S.T.A.R. Labs?” Iris asked.

“I wasn’t aware there was another one.” I chuckled and looked down at my phone screen. “Well, I should probably get going, I’m apartment hunting today. It was really nice catching up with you guys.” I gave an unconvincing smile then walked away, shaming myself for not thinking about the fact I’d probably be running into Barry a lot now that I moved back to Central City. You’re an idiot Monica, a real fucking idiot.

After spending two days of apartment hunting, I finally found a decent place to live until I was able to find a better place, like maybe a condo or a townhouse. I spent all of Friday unpacking and preparing for my first day at my new job. Yes, starting a new job on a Saturday is weird, but being offered a job like this, as a young biologist, was weird. So, I’ve just learned that weird is normal.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to work under the genius that is Doctor Harrison Wells. And now I was getting that chance of working with him and a small handful of scientists on S.T.A.R. Labs’ newest project, the Particle Accelerator. Unlike most girls my age, I’ve always been a science geek. I guess that’s what made Barry and I such great friends. Our love for science built such a strong bond between us. A bond that was now broken, and since I was back in Central City, I’d probably have to mend it.

After about an hour of rummaging through cardboard boxes, I finally picked out a ‘First Day of Work’ outfit.

I settled on a button-up corduroy pencil skirt and a striped dark purple turtleneck, convincing myself I’d have more than enough time in the morning to pick out shoes. Boy, was I wrong. Being the so-called ‘Lazy Millennial’ I am, I hit snooze about five times before finally waking up with only forty-five minutes to get to S.T.A.R. Labs.

Realizing this, I quickly got out of bed, threw on some light makeup and tied my hair into a ponytail. Rushing out of the door, I grabbed a protein bar and my pristine, white Keds and sprinted to my car, almost forgetting to lock the door to my new apartment.

Somehow I made it to S.T.A.R. Labs at exactly nine o'clock. Pushing open the doors of the lobby, I rushed over to the receptionist.

“Um, hi, yeah I’m looking for Dr. Wells… I’m Mo-”

“Ms. Bell.”

I swivelled around to be met with the source of the somewhat familiar voice.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you in person.” I walked forward and went to shake his hand.

“I could say the same for you, Dr. Wells.” I smiled, trying my best to bury the geek inside of me deep into the dark place where it belongs.

“Well, now that the pleasantries are over with, I’ll take you on a tour and show you to your lab.”

After walking around S.T.A.R. Labs for about thirty minutes and grabbing some coffee, we finally reached a pretty large room with monitors, three computers, and other equipment deliberately placed.

“And this is where you’ll be working the next three days until the accelerator starts running. Then you can begin your research in your personal lab. Ah, and these are the three scientists you’ll be working with the majority of your time here,” Dr. Wells said, motioning hand toward a woman and two men staring at a computer screen. The woman nudged the two men causing all three of them to turn around and stare at me.

“Ms. Bell, meet Doctor Caitlin Snow, Ronnie Raymond, and Cisco Ramon. Guys, this is Monica Bell,” he said turning to face me, “Our new biologist.”

I smiled reaching out to shake the hand of the man dubbed Ronnie Raymond, then Caitlin Snow, and lastly Cisco Ramon who unexpectedly pulled my hand and embraced me in a tight hug.

“Sorry, I’m more of a hugger,” he chuckled, finally allowing me to breathe.

“Me too,” I giggled.

“Hey, I love your shirt,” I chirped scanning over the hands printed on his blue shirt.

“And I appreciate your pop culture knowledge.” He grinned.

“Really, because I prefer her taste in skirts,” Caitlin chimed in.

“Ditto!” I smiled back.

“Well, now that we’re all, somewhat, formally introduced, I’ll be taking Ms. Bell to her workspace,” Dr. Wells butted in, turning towards the hallway.

“It was nice meeting you all, really,” I blurted out, waving goodbye and running towards the direction of Dr. Wells.

“I just met the Caitlin Snow,” I blurted out laughing in amazement once we were far enough down the hallway. “Whoops, I’m sorry. That was so unprofessional,” I muttered.

Dr. Wells chuckled. “No, it’s fine. It’s good to be happy sometimes.”

“I don’t think I can agree with you on that Dr. Wells…” an odd, snobby voice retorted from behind me.

“Hartley, why would you say that?” Dr. Wells said turning around.

“Well, happiness keeps us from being productive,” he stated staring at me. “Who is she?”

“She is Monica Bell our new biologist. Monica this is Hartley Rathaway.”

I stuck my hand out, “It’s a pleasure to m-”

“I don’t shake hands with foolish biologists who run around in the forest wearing Keds,” he retaliated, an evil smirk spreading across his face. Suddenly, the lid popped off of my coffee cup that was now completely crushed and laying on the floor in a puddle of steamed milk and espresso. “Oo, be careful Dr. Wells, she’s a feisty one,” he laughed, turning around and leaving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice that I-”

“No, it’s fine. That’s just Hartley’s way.”

The next two days I spent my time setting up my lab, but if I had any free time, I went to help Caitlin, Cisco, and Ronnie, whom I had grown very close with over the weekend.

“You two are adorable! Is it too late to get a wedding invite?” I joked as Caitlin and Ronnie longingly stared at each other across their desks.

“We’ll see if we can squeeze you on the list,” Ronnie chuckled, “But more importantly, how am I going to attach these valves together.”

“Oh, I can help!” I yelped, running over to his computer.

“But you’re a-”

“Biologist? Yeah, I’m very aware of that. But I was the mechanic of the family for my entire childhood so step aside,” I said cracking my knuckles. “Pish’ that’s a simple fix! Just mend it together with some steel and you’ll be good to go. I’ll be right back,” I said backing away.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To fix your problem.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’ll be fine Ron, check out these guns,” I giggled flexing my muscles.

“Yeah, still going with you,” he said standing up.

“Woah. This. Is. AWESOME!” I screamed when we walked into the pipeline.

“You sure you don’t need help with all that metal?” I shook my head at Ronnie’s question. “What, do you work out like twenty-four-seven or something?” I turned to face him, furrowing my eyebrows.

“How crazy do you think I am? I’m just a naturally strong damsel in distress.”

“Well, if you’re a damsel in distress, wouldn’t you need some help?”

“Yes, Ronald, why don’t you just go sit in the corner and watch?”

The few conversations like that were the reasons why losing Ronnie was so hard. I may not have known him as well as Caitlin or Cisco had, but he was one of those people who’s very easy to approach. He never deserved what happened to him.

None of us did.

Before I knew it, the night of the Particle Accelerator’s - well - accelerating had come, which also meant the next day, S.T.A.R. Labs would become all work and no play. But all I really needed to focus on was that night’s events and what I was going to wear.

Desperately pushing hangers aside, I searched for the perfect ensemble. I wouldn't be doing too much that night, so I could basically wear anything I wanted. Still, finding something to wear was definitely a challenge... Until-

“BINGO!” I yelled, pulling out an emerald green dress from my tiny closet.

Hair and makeup was a breeze, giving me plenty of time to make it to S.T.A.R. Labs before the ceremony. Walking into my kitchen I grabbed my phone, screen glowing from receiving a notification.

Iris: Barry and I will be at STAR Labs tonight! Hope we can find some time to catch up.

I smiled looking down at the text. I missed Iris. She was always such a sweet, genuine person who at the same time wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion. Twiddling my thumbs, I finally began typing.

Monica: Yay! I can’t wait to see you.

Great job Monica! Mental High Five! I thought to myself while nodding my head. Looking further up the screen I realised that I only had fifteen minutes to get to the ceremony and there was bound to be traffic, so I ran out the door like I had a few days ago.

“My name is Harrison Wells. Tonight, the future begins. The work my team and I will do here will change our understanding of physics. Will bring about advancements in power, advancements in medicine, and trust me that future will be here faster than you think.”

The applause began to come to a halt as Dr. Wells began his speech. After nodding and smiling for a while, I decided to scan the crowd for Iris and maybe Barry. Looking into the sea of people in front of me, I couldn’t help but feel - I don’t know - super. It was like thousands of people were looking up to me, like I had just made their lives a thousand times better. I loved that feeling. In Seattle, I had lost touch of that, and in that moment, I remembered just how much I missed it.

“...ica, MONICA!”

I snapped my head around feeling someone nudging at my side.

“Hey, it’s time to go inside and accelerate this accelerator,” Cisco said beaming.

“Ok Costco,” I joked walking past him.

“Hey! You don’t have the right to call me that yet. I don’t even have a nickname for you.” I turned around giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Awww, poor Crisco.” I giggled.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

I snorted as I walked off the stage, heading towards Dr. Wells to find out where he needed me.

“Ms. Bell, you can go home now. We’ll be expecting you here early tomorrow morning.”

I nodded my head vigorously. “Oh, I know. Umm, is it okay if I just stay here for a while? I just got dolled up and I’m really hoping I didn’t do it for nothing.”

“Whatever you need,” he said walking away. Quickly, I took off my heels and ran to the stairs. Gracefully, I made my way up to one of the many roofs of S.T.A.R. Labs, and as I stared at the glowing city before me, I smiled. I closed my eyes and breathed in the city air, the sound of cars and busses surrounding me.

“What happened to the Keds? Did little baby Monica play dress up in Mommy’s closet?” I heard a familiar, smug voice taunt from behind me.

“Hartley, you shouldn’t be here. You quit two days ago. This is private property,” I muttered, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Well neither should someone like you!” he yelled awkwardly running towards me and pushing me to the ground. “See, I can be feisty too.”

I stood up, straightening my dress. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, you know what I’m doing,” he whispered.

“Actually, I don’t,” I bluntly stated, “So why don't you tell me what’s going on here?!”

“I’m here to show you what you’re truly capable of,” he muttered. “Kryptonian.”

I cocked my head to the side, “How the hell am I a cryptogr-?” Before I could finish my question, I felt my toes leave the roof of S.T.A.R. Labs, leaving me quickly falling to my doom.

As the wind caused my hair to dance around, I looked down at the ground below me. So this is how I die, I thought to myself, a tight lip smile appearing on my face. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to think of any possible way to save myself. I could make my dress into a parachute, oh, or hook my heels onto-

Everything stopped.

The wind, the moving buildings, my hair.

I looked down, I was…

“Floating?” I murmured allowed in confusion.

“Not exactly Monica!” I heard Hartley yell from atop the roof, “Try pushing up.”

At first, I questioned him, but he seemed to know something. So, I pushed my heels up, causing me to move in the opposite direction than I was only a few mere seconds ago. My feet gently landed on the roof, a grin growing on my face.

“How did you know?” I asked, staring down Hartley.

“That coffee cup incident and my years of studying alien history. Guess that-”

“Wait, I’m an-”

“Alien, maybe. I prefer outsider,” he wickedly laughed. Suddenly, a surge of anger coursed through my veins and I sprinted forward, punching Hartley in the nose and knocked him out.

“Oh, my, I’m, gotta go…” I stammered running towards the Cortex. “Caitlin! Caitlin!” I yelled running through the halls. “Cait, there you are! You won’t believe what just-” I stopped talking when she turned around to face me. Her flushed cheeks stained with tears. “What, what’s wrong? Where are Ronnie and Cisco?”

She shook her head at me. “Something went wrong,” she whispered. “Ronnie’s in the Pipeline. Monica, what if he never comes back?!” she sobbed, causing me to jog over to her. I pulled her into a tight hug, unsure of what to say I rocked her back and forth as we waited for something to happen, some glimmer of hope.

Instead, we were met with a big bang.

Taglist:

@lexeeehhh

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kentthewolf · 3 years

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You’ll STOP🛑 Checking Your Morning Emails After Reading This!

If you’re like most Americans, you've put in a couple of additional hours at the workplace now and again. Regardless of whether that implies coming in on time, staying late, or working as the through the weekend, Americans are known for their amazing absence of work-life balance. In fact, just about 33% of laborers report feeling stressed, overwhelmed, and overworked in their positions.

One of the biggest wellspring of lost time in the working environment are email messages, representing about 2.6 hours of your time each and every day. With expanding requests to complete more and work longer hours, numerous individuals feel the ever-lasting strain to get their inbox to zero. With cell phones in our beds, and under our pillow, we never need to take a break from email again.

To sort out exactly how long the normal American waits until they browse their email in the morning; 1,000 Americans were surveyed by Sleep Specialists. They found that the vast majority browse their email before they go into work. Here are a portion of the other key discoveries:

55% of individuals browse their email some time before they go in to work.

17% of Americans browse their email quickly after waking up.

1 in 3 of millennials browse their email the minute they wake up

We realize that Americans work more than in different nations, with 11% working over 50 hours every week. The quantity of businesses offering work-from-home alternatives has risen 40% over the most recent five years. With the very thin line that separates work from personal life, vanishing before their eyes.

Millennials

Known as the innovative techie generation, it makes sense that they would extend the use of technology for their work. Twenty to thirty year olds appear to be the most associated with the 30% that checks their work emails quickly after waking. Which to me, it comes to an absurd surprise that Millennials have gained the negative reputation for being a lazy. Our outcomes are considerable evidence that we are in reality diligent employees. Studies show that recent college grads are bound to leave vacation time unused, in order to avoid dread and remorse. It’s for this reason that Millennials find it harder and harder each day to detach themselves from their work.

The Impacts of Checking Emails First Thing In The Morning

While it might feel productive to catch up with a few emails in the early morning, studies have demonstrated that checking your notifications when you first wake up really builds more tension and anxiety. When you’re setting your workday on an anxious place, you’re more likely to feel overwhelmed, unhappy, and ultimately underperform.

As opposed to attempting to crush in a couple of emails every morning take a stab at rehearsing solid work-life balance for a more productive and happier life. Organize isolating your work-life and home life to ensure that you are healthy and getting enough rest.

#sleep #sleep deprivation #productivity #personal development #tips #life #work

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estefikrol · 5 years

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CHECK OUT

Short Story 03

-Inspired on true events-

Los Angeles, California.

And the police never came. The girls were scared to death at first, but cried for laughter the minute they knew what really happened.

It was April, season were California becomes the spotlight for music lovers. Where influencers, instagramers and any other type of millennial celebrity chooses their best hippie-chic outfit to go take selfies in Coachella and dance to the most mainstream music. A time to inhale cheerful vibes, when the summer gives it’s firsts steps making the weather perfect to enjoy an exciting three day festival. By that time, while playing some local classics like The Doors, these two argentinian girls started their adventurous road trip through the routes of the West Coast. Since then, a bunch of exquisite moments come into being. As a friend once said:

“In the city of L.A In the city of good ol' Watts In the city, the city of Compton We keep it rockin”, California Love by 2pac.

But not all that glitters is gold... after days of having fun, drinking wine and attend to epic hip hop gigs, their last night in Los Angeles burst with a series of frightening unfortunate events.

Let’s start from the beginning of the end. The story is about two mid-twenties girls, who came from a land far, far away - well not that far, I meant to be poetic but Buenos Aires is just a couple of hours flight- to enjoy the dreamy city of Los Angeles. They rented an Airbnb in Fairfax District, located a few blocks from The Grove shopping mall, a pretty cool area actually. It was a big two bedroom apartment, luminous with big windows in the living room and an impeccable nice view. They were supposed to stay there until they flew back home. On saturday morning, they woke up early to seas the day, they had plans to spend some golden hours wandering around the outstanding Malibu beaches. Minutes before taking off, without another apparent reason more than a hunch, one of them took her phone to check the emails and saw a message from the apartment owner. It went something like this: “Girls, the cleaning lady is waiting for you to go so as to organize the apartment for our next guests. Let me know when you leave the keys on the front door. Thanks!”. When she read it, her face went pale and immediately took her iPhone calendar to check the dates. Her eyes wide opened as realizing she and her friend were completely wrong since it was scheduled to leave the flat that day. And they did it in a blitz.

No hesitations, they packed her stuff in a rush and left. Wherever they put foot a bad mood cloud could be seen from miles, angry with no other than themselves and carrying their entire lives in their bags, they went to have a matcha latte at Whole Foods. They couldn't even speak, not because they were mad at each other but due to the feeling of stupidity that surpassed them. While having mini pretzels they found a super nice apartment in an online renting web. It was located in the Beverlywood neighborhood next to Beverly Hills, it was kind of suspiciously cheap for the cool photos shown. With haste and without laps, after a simple click they had a place to spend the night.

Half an hour later they arrived to the direction given, still curiously nobody was there. The sun was burning the girls’ white skins during some eternal minutes as they waited for the owner to show. Suddenly, a peculiar woman in a black long dress, with suspicaz look in her eyes, appeared walking towards the place. Once next to the girls, while trying to open the building door, slowly turned her head towards them and asked:

Resting bitch-face lady: “Who are you waiting for?”

The brunette girl: “The apartment owner”

Resting bitch-face lady: “Why? are you moving here?”

The blonde girl: “No, we are staying just for the night”

Abysmal resting bitch-face lady: “Airbnb is prohibited here. You are not staying, I’m calling the police”, she added as she crossed the door and slammed it in their faces.

They were stunned, speechless, without knowing what to think more than that something very strange was going on. The street was empty, so empty that the girls could listen loudly to their own anxious heavy breathings. Okay, not that empty, they saw a man who walked twice in the same block and watched them every time he passed by. After two or three deep sighs, when about to leave, a mid thirties man came from around the corner calling her names. Looked like a regular guy, with kind of geeky vibes and weird from the top to the bottom beige clothing.

Nerd looking guy: “Hi, sorry for the delay”

-Received no answer from the other side-

Nerd looking guy: “I gave you the wrong address, i’m so sorry for that too. The apartment is a few blocks from here, we can walk… let me help you with the baggage”.

The argentinians with the worst and coldest look: “You gave us the wrong address? How come!? Uhmm That’s weird”.

He gave a shitty explanation on how the community manager working for them got it all wrong and messed up with the direction. The girls did not believe it so easily, but they were so tired that agreed to go with him, leaving the situation to God’s will.

Within a 5 minute walk, not a soul in the streets, they arrived to a small building. The guy who couldn’t stop talking about unimportant stuff, lead the girls in to their apartment. Detail by detail he explained every little thing about the place. No words heard from them, their attention quickly dispersed wishing for him to finally stop talking. A while later he miraculously ended and after exchanging phone numbers, for the relief of the girls, he finally left. To make the situation more weird, while unpacking, they saw labels in all the furniture like if they were recently bought, like if no one would’ve ever step foot in the place... A lot of terrible things crossed their minds, what if this place did not existed before? Is not an Airbnb at all? Just a place dressed up like a sweet home but meant to kidnap innocent tourists?. “Haha that’s too much”, said one of the girls laughing. Even though knowing they were maybe embellishing the situation, genuinely dramatic, they did not want to stay much longer and went off to the beach with one song on repeat in their minds:

"All I am is a man

I want the world in my hands

I hate the beach

But I stand in California with my toes in the sand", Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood.

It was too late then, so instead of going to Malibú, they spent a not so chilling time in Santa Mónica. The peer was disappointing, dirty and invaded with cheesy tourists carrying their big cameras with cheap lenses. What made it worst, they saw how a man was having heavy convulsions on the floor, yelling the names of dead historic hip hop artists (Yeah, WTF). And what did make it even worse, there was a man standing like a statue staring at this ‘crazy’ screaming dude, and who he was you may wonder? The same who passed by a couple of times, watching them back in Beverlywood. Gave them the creeps!

They got back around 7pm, the sun was about to vanish when one of the girls said: “I need red wine, a whole bottle”... And that’s how the second part of the thrilling adventure begun. Once again, the neighborhood was weirdly empty, block by block everything seemed to be dead and that desired red was nowhere to find. A whole hour of intensely and almost desperately searching passed as quickly as the blink of an eye. Whilst the alcohol detectives were in duty, a glorious super small and almost hidden liquor store appeared. They got the wine, but spoiler alert: the happy beam in their faces did not last long.

Both ran out of battery, no phones meant no maps… no maps meant: “How the hell are we going to find our way back to the apartment?”. One of the girls shook her head and said: “Don´t worry, it’s easy, I think I remember”. The sun came down completely as they walked in circles for half an hour. How to describe the desperation that was growing inside of them, like a fire in the stomach mixed with deep cold sweat rolling down the neck, symptoms that combined nervousness and fear. But please, stop crying your heart out, the solution was about to come. For second time, the sky opened and a spotlight went down to show them the glorious solution: A Starbucks Coffee to charge their iPhones. Of course, due to the time, it was closing its doors. Like cry babies they asked for the biggest and life savior favor, simply to open the door and give them some energy. And so it happened. “Thank you super handsome Thor for showing us the path”, they prayed. The phone turned on and the route magically showed up.

Finally they arrived, breathless, with the feeling of being followed, but safe and sound. Although this sounded mega exhausting, just wait to read what happened next.

Saturday, around 9pm, the girls started packing the luggage as they were leaving early in the morning. Tired? Nah… They were definitely going out, nothing could ruined their last night in the city of angels. They had plans to meet up with some local friends at the indie-cool club named Tenants of the Trees at around 11pm. Also, above important, it was their last dinner, what undoubtedly did they ordered? To be faithful to all the movies they ever saw in their lives, they called Domino’s Pizza.

Lana del Rey as background music, chilling vibes all over the place and a wine bottle waiting to be opened… one of the girls went to take a bath while the other was waiting for the double cheese non spicy pizza to come. As you can expect, this nice atmosphere did not last long, one more setback was around the corner. When the girl realized they had no corkscrews, she sighed annoyingly, took her phone and write to the owner asking if there was any bottle opener in the place, having no answer at all. She was determined to drink that damned red, so, she put some blue jeans on and went down the hallway to knock door by door, no matter what she was going to find or who was going to run into. It was a long dark hallway, it was impossible not to think of films like The Shining, for example. One, two, even three doors and nothing, there was cemetery silence. She kind of panicked a little because clearly there was nobody in the entire floor, they were all alone in a place they did not know, in a dim neighborhood and in an apartment that looked pretty much like taken out from The Truman Show. Run baby run, after having all that thoughts invading her head she looked around and rushed faster than ever.

When she got to the apartment, she locked the door and tried to shake off that odd sensation left in her body. By that moment, the doorbell rang so loud that made her jumped almost half a meter. "Domino's Pizza", a voice intoned. That simple phrase was like music to her ears, hunger won any other feeling she could had. That's how the hungry lady took the keys and ran downstairs. The main hall had a big glass door through from you could see the street, so the minute she got there, saw there was no pizza man at all. "Maybe he's in a car outside", naively said to herself. Once again, the goddamn hungry girl, went out alone to the street hoping to find that die for fast food. Oh boy! She was all alone again but this time outside in the darkness without her phone. She heard a crunchy noise in the corner, a couple of meters away, automatically she turned to see who or what it was. What do you think? Noup, not the delivery guy, it was the creepy guy again! The one that mysteriously appeared everywhere that day. He was in his middle 50s, had white hair, pale face, was a little chubby and looked like a Yeezy fan -Kanye West's clothing brand- because all of his clothes were ripped. Or maybe he was a homeless, a crackhead, something totally common to strike in L.A. Now she was truly scared, as he passed through her, she intended not to move or even breath. Unfortunately, the freakish stopped walking and stayed in her flat, to fan the flames, he had a bunch of keys in his hand with which he tried one by one to open the door. A tear rolled over the girl's cheek, over dazed she saw death. What to do? Well, she decided to act like nothing happened planning to get in to the place and not let him enter. Once she gave a step, the man put his gaze on her and asked with a peculiar and friendly voice: "Hi lady, do you live here?". The chat went something like this…

Scared girl: "No, I'm just waiting for my boyfriend". With deep fear in the tone she continued "You might know him, he goes by the name Harry Styles". (Lol just kidding, the Harry part did not happen).

Creepy guy: "Oh, cuz I'm looking for two friends… you maybe saw them. They are argentinians...Are you one of them?"

Super mega scared girl: (Swallows) "What? No, uhmm I'm from here, I definitely don't know what you are talking about and really, sir, I can't help you".

Even creepier guy: "Okay, they are in the third floor, apartment E, can you let me in? I need to get in".

WTF he knew exactly were they were staying, her mind went blank and had no words to say more than speak up her last wish. What would that be? Perhaps, let her eat the last pizza. Oh wait! Where was the pizza guy? Was even real that he came? Wondrously in that exact moment, he came into view, he was walking from inside the building. The girl's head almost exploded in a thousand pieces, how could that be possible. She approached the door, went pretty close to it so the second the delivery boy opened it she could enter speedy without letting the other one in. Clap, clap, clap, her plan succeed. She did not let the man in but did not let the pizza guy leave either. "Excuse me I have to go", Domino's said. "No please, that man outside is creeping the hell out of me, stay while I go for my phone and call the police", she begged. "Sorry I can’t, I have to deliver these pizzas and go home", not a bit kindly he replied. "Okay go, but give my pizza first", she ordered while he assured he had already delivered her stupid pizza. She grabbed the door and slammed it as hard as she could in the disturbing guy's nose, as he yelled to let him in with his fist hitting the glass.

An intense noise came about when the man broke the door, little sharp pieces spread all over like confetti in a piñata. Suspense classical music was playing from who knows where. She was already in the elevator, its door was about to close when a knife appeared to stop it with the intention of not letting it go. She closed her green eyes and counted to three. Once opened, the man was not there, the music was not on and the elevator was clear. She imagined the scene so vividly that genuinely thought it was real.

The elevator arrived to the third floor -Ding- it went as it swished opened. She ran into the apartment, locked the door and exclaimed: “Call 911!”. The place looked like a murder scene, her friend struggled to open the wine bottle hitting it from the bottom with a Nike sneaker. It worked yet not as expected, the cork came out yeah, but a huge amount of the liquid fell on the carpet leaving a stain that hinted like a bloodbath on the floor. On the top of everything, Domino’s Pizza was served on the table. Everything was so fucked up that she didn’t even dare to ask how on earth the delivery entered the building and went upstairs in a matter of seconds, without running into her. Total and completely mind blown. However, she focused on the actual problem: “There’s a guy, the one we saw a couple of times today, in the door asking for us… he wants to get in, he wants to kill us or rob or rape us. IDK call the police right now”, desperately cried. She could not finished talking when the doorbell started ringing incessantly. Deeply frightened, they looked at each other and screamed loudly. They knew they were alone in the entire place, so nobody would listen their crave for help. While the bell went on ringing, they called the police. “911 what’s your emergency”, the operator cinematographically went whilst her friend was thinking how to tell the story. “Just tell them there’s a crazy person threatening our lives”, the girl yelled to her friend, who did it with a trembling voice. Unluckily they hung up on them, twice in a row. Could this be worst? Definitely. The bell stopped, letting a deep uncomfortable silence posses the room. Suddenly footsteps and other messed up noises came from outside, like if the psycho was trying to get in by reaching the window. Still in shock, after shutting the curtains, with a knife in one hand they sat down on the floor to take another shot in calling the police. Can you believe they never answer nor came? Sadly astonishing.

“Let's think straight, maybe is your phone that’s not working so let’s make the call from mine. Or I can tell Ben (a local friend) to send help!”, she whispered. “Yeah but quiet please”, the blond one replied while nodding his head. So she silently crawled to the other room, unplugged the phone and when the screen went bright she saw a million messages coming from the apartment owner.

9:21 pm: “Hi, sorry we don’t have a corkscrew. Do you need it right now?”

9:35 pm: “Hey, do you still need it?”

9:40 pm: “Stay alert, I’m sending you one”.

9:50 pm: “Heeeeeey. Alfred is at the door, he has the corkscrew. Can you open him?”

9:51 pm: “Don’t worry, he is my partner… Are you in the apartment right now?”

10:21pm: “We don’t need it anymore, we went out for dinner… please tell him to leave”, the girl wrote after taking a relief breath.

She grabbed her head and called her friend, who went desperately running to see what was going on. Without any sound coming out from her mouth, she showed the messages and asked her if they should believe all this. Everything was so weird, the guy looked so strange… Why did they run into him several times that day? Why he did not say he had a corkscrew? Or even better question, why he did not have it when the girl saw him?

Despite the many ends to tie, they both calmed down and decided to ‘believe’ the owner, maybe they had no other choice, no friends or family close, no police to the rescue.

"Down on the West Coast they got a sayin. If you're not drinkin' then you're not playin', West Coast - Lana del Rey. Ergo, the only thing left to do, the only reasonable choice was to drink that problematic wine till it was over, eat the cold pizza, cried for laughter and go out till dawn. And so it be!

They left the next morning, joking about the mistaken situation, rejoicing at the great tragi-comic anecdote they could now tell everyone back home.

A week later, among a beautiful stormy grey morning in Buenos Aires, one of the girls was reading an online magazine when an article headline captured her attention. She numbed, as she took her hand to her mouth with surprise, the toast she was eating fell down on the side fully loaded of raspberry jam, Murphy's law of course. “Los Angeles, California: Two men arrested for robbery, sexual abuse and fraud”, followed by a picture of two terrifying men. Yes, of course, one was whom rented them the place and the other, the stalker.

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morrisbrokaw · 6 years

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It’s Okay Not to Have Your Career Figured Out Right Away

The best part of adulthood is the small talk, hands down. Meeting new people, sharing that perfectly firm and definitely-never-clammy-on-either-end handshake, exchanging pleasantries on all the most exhilarating of topics. Never gets old!!

Within the wide realm of questions brought up most frequently in these generally uncomfortable little back-and-forths, the favorite seems to be the following: “What do you do?” Ingrained in this one tiny question are, of course, a million other inquiries: “Do you like your job?” “How much money do you make?” “Where do you rank on the wholly subjective career hierarchy I have in my head?” and (no pressure or anything!!) “Is what you do your passion?”

Ah yes, that last one, the biggest kicker of them all—is what you do your passion? I, millennial that I am, cannot say whether previous generations felt this so strongly, the pressure to do what you love. But it seems that, given the across the board delay of other milestones that once signaled success among twenty and thirtysomethings—home ownership, marriage, having children—the generation in which I’m firmly planted has saddled itself with new definitions of success: the places you’ve traveled, your selfie-taking proficiency, and your career success, to name a few.

Maybe I’m projecting. Maybe I’m flinging my own ingrained insecurities and self-doubt onto you. If it feels like I am, you are more than entitled to yell, in my general direction, “Woah, Jackie! Settle down! Have you considered that not everyone feels the way you do??” And in that case, thank you for calling me out! No, really, thank you. If you are one of those people who has always known what you wanted to do, since you were a youth; who mapped out a path and followed it and are genuinely happy with where you’re at in your career. Well. Hot damn. I am genuinely happy for you. Keep on killing it, okay?

The words I’m writing today, however, are for the other folks. These are for the people who had one million different interests in high school, who had a bunch more in college, who were never quite able to distill all of those singular activities into their *one true path*. They’re for the people who did find out what they wanted to do, but feel like they found it too late, and without a linear career trajectory plus 18 perfectly aligned internships under their belt, they feel like they can’t quite catch up. They’re for the people who sometimes feel like they’re merely drifting along through their careers, directionless, discontented or stuck.

Maybe that’s you. Maybe you feel behind. Maybe you’re in your twenties or your thirties or your forties or your fifties and maybe you feel lost. Maybe you dread being at a party and meeting new people and being asked that one seemingly innocuous question: “What do you do?” Allow me to say, firstly, THAT IS OKAY. I am saying it in all-caps because I mean it!! It is okay to feel behind. It is okay to feel lost. It is okay to dread small talk at parties. It is all okay.

Allow me to say, secondly, that I am right there with you, friend. At the ripe old age of 28, I am still figuring it out as I go. I am still a work in progress. I am still learning what interests me and, as I do, I am learning not to be so damn afraid to pursue those interests.

My personal career trajectory has been windy and disjointed, a road weaved together out of both passion and obligation. I entered college as an interior design major, and pursued that path for the impressive length of an entire few days, before switching my major to architecture. I loved a lot about the program, but toward the end of my four years, I decided that pursuing architecture as a career wasn’t for me. My heart wasn’t in it, and I think another part of me didn’t believe I was good enough at it (a fun, reoccurring theme in my life!).

I left college with a degree, yes, but also with hardly an ounce of direction. I didn’t have a job lined up. I didn’t have a clear career path to dive into. Yet, with the naiveté and occasionally blinding optimism that seems synonymous with being in your early twenties, I went after the opportunities that felt right to me then. I applied for countless jobs; sent countless cold emails to people I admired; pursued a graphic design internship with a website I loved. I took an internship at a nonprofit, a field I’d always considered entering, if only for a long-held, deeply ingrained desire to help people. At the end of the summer, I was offered a full-time job with that same nonprofit and, simultaneously, after 3 months of persistence, I landed the graphic design internship, too.

That was my life for a good, long while: I worked full-time during the day and spent many late nights and weekends working on the ol’ side hustle. The graphic design internship turned into a graphic designer role, which then turned into an editorial role. I loved what I did, in many ways, but a lot of my time was also spent exhausted—both physically and mentally—and, after two and a half years, I decided to let that side hustle go. A few years later, I still work at the same nonprofit, and while it’s an amazing organization, there is an ever-growing part of me that knows I have other interests to pursue.

Most of my twenties have been spent in a deep, dark cave of ennui—never knowing, assuredly, which path to take. I’m learning, ever so slowly, not to fight so hard against the unknown. I’m learning it’s okay not to have everything figured out. I’m learning that we’re all making it up as we go.

I promise that if you feel lost, I believe in you to find your way. You don’t have to figure it out right now. You don’t have to figure it out tomorrow. You don’t even have to figure it out next week. Unless you’re a person of the clairvoyant variety, you can’t know ahead of time which of your decisions will be fruitful, or which precise course of action will propel you toward your ideal career. All you can do is take one step at a time; all you can do is keep moving in a direction that feels right.

Maybe open up a word doc or a fresh, crisp notebook, and write down one thing (tiny or otherwise) you’re doing each day to move your career in a different direction. Maybe make a commitment to connect with one person each week who works in a field that piques your interest, whether it be face-to-face or via e-mail or through social media. Maybe take that course you’ve been meaning to take. Maybe apply for that job you’d so hastily convinced yourself you weren’t qualified for. Whatever it is you do, just don’t stop trying. Don’t get lost on the well-worn path of believing you’re not good enough. Don’t give up on yourself, okay?

I recognize that I am not an expert in, I don’t know, ANY area of life?? But I know what being lost feels like. I know what being behind feels like. I know other people feel this way sometimes, too. And I know it can be nice to have a reminder that you’re not wading through the occasionally murky waters of life alone.

So if we ever see each other at a party (I just go to SO MANY PARTIES, you know??), please come say hello. I promise I’ll ask you what your hobbies are, what you like to do for fun, and if you have any pets. I promise I’ll do my best to find that one conversation topic that lights you up. I promise I won’t start by asking what you do.

Images via: 1 / 2

Jackie Saffert is a human person who lives in Minneapolis. In her spare time, you can find her running along the river road, loitering in the vicinity of the nearest puppy at a local brewery, or recharging her soul (?!) in her tiny sanctuary of an apartment. She likes to write; she thinks you are very kind for reading the words above.

The post It’s Okay Not to Have Your Career Figured Out Right Away appeared first on Wit & Delight.

It’s Okay Not to Have Your Career Figured Out Right Away published first on https://workbootsandshoes.tumblr.com/

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andrewdburton · 6 years

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Money story: “I’m 21 and pursuing the path to financial independence.”

This guest post from Cody is part of the “money stories” feature at Get Rich Slowly. Some stories contain general advice; others are examples of how a GRS reader achieved financial success — or failure. These stories feature folks from all stages of financial maturity.

In January, I attended Camp FI in Florida. While most of the attendees were thirty- or forty-somethings pursuing early retirement, one young man stood out. We were all amazed at the presence of Cody Berman, a 21-year-old hustler who defies the Millennial stereotype. Cody works hard, saves tons, and has a vision for his future. I asked if he’d be willing to share his story with GRS readers. Here it is.

From a young age, my parents instilled the value of saving into me. Throughout my early childhood, my father would match my contributions to my savings account dollar for dollar. This made me excited to save birthday money and miscellaneous earnings because the money would double. (Thanks, Dad!)

When I turned eleven, I started my first job working in the snack shack at my uncle’s local disc golf course; I earned five bucks an hour. Throughout middle school and high school, I worked various jobs and saved nearly every penny. At age sixteen, I bought my first car with the money I had accumulated over the years. I still drive that car to this day.

During high school, I took several AP courses and received college credit for them. If I had only known then what I know now, I would have taken nearly every AP course and CLEP exam available. When it came time to select a college, I was torn between Bentley University and the University of Massachusetts Amherst. I calculated that Bentley would have put me in approximately $80,000 of debt after four years but that I could attend UMass Amherst virtually for free. My frugality won. I chose the latter.

Making the Most out of College

Upon my arrival at UMass Amherst, I joined as many clubs and organizations as possible. Simultaneously, I obtained a job as a teacher’s assistant to financially support myself. After several weeks of attending dozens of meetings for multiple groups, I decided that the Investment Club, Fixed Income Fund, and Finance Society were particularly interesting to me. [J.D.’s notes: Where were clubs like these when I was in college?]

I soon realized that in order to get a leg up on my peers, I needed an internship. I applied to nearly thirty positions and heard back from only one. That summer, I worked in a low-tier operations role at a small branch of a major bank.

I came back sophomore year with increased confidence and a motivation to achieve the best internship possible. This time, I applied to nearly 35 positions and received responses from about 20% of them. Initially, none of my top prospects were interested in me.

Then, one day in early April, I received an email from a private equity company who asked me to come in for an interview. Three interviews later and the position was mine. That summer, I commuted two hours each way to my internship and worked long days. I thought I was on my way to become a rich, successful investment banker. What could be better, right?

Finding Financial Independence

During my junior year, I networked relentlessly and received offers from various top-tier investment firms. I knew that whichever firm I chose to work for following my junior year would probably be the firm I received a full-time offer from. I aimed for high-caliber, high-paying jobs in New York City.

It was during this year that I discovered the financial independence movement and realized something important: Time is more valuable than money.

Because of this newly-acquired perspective, I declined all of my high-powered NYC offers and chose to work for a financial firm that valued hard work, respected work-life balance, and compensated for overtime (extremely rare in the finance space). My friends and mentors all thought I was crazy for turning down the ultra-high-paying, high-stress offers, but I knew that I was making the right decision.

Once I discovered the financial independence movement, I was immediately attracted to the idea of a side hustle. I wanted to unlock an alternative income stream to allow me to reach my financial freedom quicker. I took steps to start a t-shirt company and tutoring business, but both failed due to lack of interest and commitment.

Eventually, I collaborated with James, a mechanical engineer friend of mine, and we created the ultimate side hustle: Arsenal Discs. Our company manufactures premium golf discs and equipment for the disc golf sport.

My passion for disc golf, coupled with my business mindset, made me a great fit to run the finance and marketing arms of the business. My business partner James, who loves to design and create, complemented my weaknesses perfectly by taking over the technical, engineering side of the business.

An Alternate Path

I see too many adults miserable in their jobs, complaining about money, and never having the time to do things. I’ve decided that this was not the life I wanted. I want freedom.

This yearning for freedom initially stemmed from my resentment of authority and being forced to perform tasks that I found neither useful or beneficial. Financial freedom grants you autonomy to work on projects that you’re truly passionate about. Once the need for a financial reward is eliminated, then altruism, passion, and authenticity foster motivation, not money.

My goal is to have a deep impact on society and, ultimately, the world. Whether this be through financial consulting, global volunteerism, or content creation, I strive to change others’ lives for the better. I feel that the typical nine-to-five job won’t grant me this satisfaction, and even if it could, I’d like to discover that career from a position of financial independence, not financial need.

I’d also like to help other young adults discover the road of financial freedom.

In my three years since discovering and advocating for the financial independence movement, I’ve had only one friend reach out to me for guidance. Most people in my peer group can’t be bothered with planning for their financial futures. They’re just finishing college. They may have just accepted their first job offer. The last thing they have on their minds is their financial situation ten years from now.

My advice to any college-aged reader out there is simple: Continue living on your college budget, even after you begin your career. As Jim Collins says, you can eventually reach financial independence by following one simple rule: “Save more than you spend and invest the rest”.

A single, twenty-something with no kids can easily live on $20,000 or less per year by making educated financial decisions. With the average graduate salary just topping $50,000 in 2017, a young adult can start with a nearly 60% saving rate! Using Mr. Money Mustache’s shockingly simply math behind early retirement, and assuming income grows at the same rate as expenses, that person could reach financial independence in eleven years. That’s incredible!

Plans for the Future

Luckily, I’m not alone in the path to financial independence.

My girlfriend Lauren, who is frugal by nature, is 100% on-board with my plans. It’s hard to argue against the idea of financial freedom in five years or less! Plus, I have my mom Ruth to thank. She’s turned me on to new blogs, podcasts, and other sources of information to add to my ever-growing repository of skills and lifehacks. She’s been extremely supportive in all of my efforts, whether it’s my studies, new ventures, or financial planning.

I’m a firm believer in creating multiple income streams to diversify risk. At this point, I have my high-paying W2 banking job, my side hustle, and miscellaneous side jobs and weekend jobs earning me income. I plan to further accelerate my wealth accumulation through real estate (e.g. house hacking, live-in flip, etc.). Developing these passive and semi-passive income streams will allow my saving rate to soar.

My hope is to work for less than three years in a traditional nine-to-five job. Instead, I’d rely on my (hopefully) successful side hustles and real estate ventures. Once I reach this point, I can put all of my time into passion projects, volunteerism, and traveling. I’m sure to make some mistakes along the way, but the goal of becoming financially independent at age 25 sounds too good to not pursue.

Nothing that I’m doing involves prodigious intelligence or tremendous abilities. I’m not a genius. I’m just a guy who wants to truly enjoy life and extract as much value out of it as possible. All it takes is a game plan, hustle, and ambition. The rest will follow. It’s never too late to take back control of your life.

Reminder: Please be nice. After twenty years of blogging, I have a thick skin, but it can be scary to put your story out in public for the first time. Remember that this guest author isn’t a professional writer, and is just learning about money like you are.

The post Money story: “I’m 21 and pursuing the path to financial independence.” appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/cody-berman-story/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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foursprout-blog · 6 years

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Money story: “I’m 21 and pursuing the path to financial independence.”

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/money-story-im-21-and-pursuing-the-path-to-financial-independence/

Money story: “I’m 21 and pursuing the path to financial independence.”

Making the Most out of College

Finding Financial Independence

It was during this year that I discovered the financial independence movement and realized something important: Time is more valuable than money.

An Alternate Path

I see too many adults miserable in their jobs, complaining about money, and never having the time to do things. I’ve decided that this was not the life I wanted. I want freedom.

I’d also like to help other young adults discover the road of financial freedom.

Plans for the Future

Luckily, I’m not alone in the path to financial independence.

The post Money story: “I’m 21 and pursuing the path to financial independence.” appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

#Wealth

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kevinsfavoritetracks · 7 years

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Tracklist, Vol. 1

“Seaweed” / Mount Eerie / 2017

“Our daughter is one and a half / You’ve been dead for eleven days / I got on the boat and came to the place / Where the three of us were going to build our house / If you had lived,” begins the second song on the album devoted to Phil Elverum’s -- performing under the moniker Mount Eerie -- wife, who died of cancer.

Jesus fuck.

The song -- and the album it’s from -- is a difficult listen. The arrangements are sparse, the vocals unsteady. As a piece of art it could be thought of as a reflection of our times in that it is a very public form of grief. Think of what your Facebook feed looked like when David Bowie or Prince died, only this is 1000 times more intensely personal.

“Seaweed” strikes me not just because its lyrics are relentlessly sad, but because of the little details within: “What about foxgloves? / Is that a flower you liked? / I can’t remember / You did most of my remembering for me.” Your details of your own loss don’t have to match his to foster a connection over having lost something dear to you.

To be honest I was shook up the rest of the day after listening to this, and I’m not sure if I ever need to listen to it again. You don’t listen to this kind of music to have a good time, or even to drown your own sorrows. (Though that could probably work.) You listen to it because it ignites a pang of empathy and sadness within, the things that can make us feel connected as human beings.

(Listen on Spotify) (Listen on YouTube)

“I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times” / The Beach Boys / 1966

Surfing. Girls. Cars. Those were the subjects of The Beach Boys’ hit singles up until the release of the landmark Pet Sounds. It wasn’t just an artistic statement but an emotional one. “I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times” might as well be Brian Wilson’s mission statement.

Wilson’s arrangements and lyrics on the album brought a certain lushness and beauty to teenage longing. ‘Times’ in particular perfectly captures that feeling of not quite fitting in, of feeling alien amongst one’s peers. The repeated refrain of “Sometimes I feel very sad” hammers home the point of just how awful being alone and different really feels.

I fell in love with this song in my late teens and early twenties -- a flag of lonerism I could proudly fly. But it still resonates with me today, what with our divisive political landscape and the stranglehold social media has on our lives. I still don’t fit in, and I’m pretty sure I never will. If that is something that seems ridiculously teenage and desperate**, than I’m not sure I ever want to grow up.

** Stolen from Radiohead’s “Fitter Happier”

(Listen on Spotify) (Listen on YouTube)

“Stairs” / Joyce Manor / 2016

Pop music is fraught with quarter-life crises both real and imagined. “Yeah, I'm 26 and I still live with my parents / Oh, I can't do laundry / Christ, I can't do dishes” goes one such predicament from pop-punk outfit Joyce Manor. It is both mundane and utterly ridiculous, but that is not why I was drawn to write about this particular song. (It really isn’t even the song itself, as the lyrics about an obsessed lover are actually kind of creepy.)

As a thirty-five year old with a college degree and a full-time job, I can do laundry and dishes. But I keep coming back to these songs about millennial malaise because I don’t really think it matters how old you are, the goalposts for what it feels like to be an adult keep moving. I might have a job, but it’s not a career; I have a place of my own to live, but it’s not a house that I own. I’m married but I don’t have kids. The longing for something more in this song is universal.

They say it gets better but I -- and Joyce Manor and countless other artists -- don’t buy it. “Be happy with what you have” is only really said by people that already have what you want.

(Listen on Spotify) (Listen on YouTube)

“(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” / Otis Redding / 1968

What do you say about Otis Redding’s most famous song that hasn’t already been said? I’ve been staring at the blank space underneath the title for parts of two days now, and I’m not sure I have anything. (This is, of course, why I’m writing this on a stupid personal Tumblr and not for a job.)

The aching in his voice that is present in so much of his work is in full force here; the fact that he doesn’t belt it out underscores the feeling of the lyrics beautifully. The line “This loneliness won’t leave me alone” is probably the hook for me. To feel alone is like being in a room thick with cigarette smoke. It never dissipates fully; it just lingers. And even when it seems like it’s gone, the stench remains. Its doggedness would be admirable, if it were a feeling I actually want to have.

Sometimes all there is to do is listen to a good, sad tune. Wallow in it and empathize. That lonesome whistle at the end gets me every time, and serves as a sign that, despite the pain inherent in living, one has got to keep moving on.

(Listen on Spotify) (Listen on YouTube)

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