#this is not the story i want to be told take me back to calabria and leonardo primofx

[casicroaks]

Tiffany Valentine has two things in her mind: love and murder. The origins of the brains behind the infamous Lakeshore Strangler and the string of broken hearts she left along her way to Chicago, interwoven with the development of the tempestuous relationship between her and a certain Charles Lee Ray.

CHAPTER 3

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 // CHAPTER 13 // CHAPTER 14 // CHAPTER 15 // CHAPTER 16 ]

NEW JERSEY, 1966

I woke up to a radio broadcast of a new draft being put into effect for soldiers to be deployed somewhere outside the US. For a moment I wondered if dad would have to go. Unlike mom, he did talk a lot about his life before marrying her, about his mother and his brothers and his father’s barber shop and his grandma’s stories of Calabria and his own stories growing up in Newark before moving to Hackensack. He had gone to war back in the day, like his brothers. He lost a couple. He ended up staying a longer while abroad than what his parents had hoped for, dad told me and Bri. When mom wasn’t around, dad told us his parents had wanted him to get to Calabria and find himself a good wife there. But he wasn’t good at speaking Italian, though, and didn’t find himself a woman who liked him enough to marry, even though he had a uniform and a medal for something. He eventually came back home. And then, he met our mother. And they married. And now, he’s just our dad. Dad always sounds disappointed when he gets to the end of these stories.

Bri had already had breakfast and was now watching TV in the living room. My mother had to renew her driving license, since dad wouldn’t be able to take us himself to Gladys Buckman’s garden party. I didn’t understand why. He said he was busy, and then mom got angry and began arguing with him, and then they were shouting about something else entirely. He left to meet with some friends, and mom stormed off the house and into the car, grumbling curses.

Anyways, it was another Sunday afternoon in which Bri and I were left alone at home. But I had a plan. I always had to find projects to entertain myself with, and this afternoon was no different. As soon as mom left the house, I rushed upstairs and into her bedroom, and opened her vanity where she kept all her makeup and jewelry. I remember being amazed by it all when I saw it. Little shiny tubes of lipstick, and elegant round boxes of eyeshadow, and cases of fake eyelashes, and pots of cream and brushes of different sizes. There had to be a way that, with all of that, I could make myself look truly pretty.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying it all out, starting with the lipsticks. I found two that I liked the most, one that was this lovely deep red, like a ripe cherry, and one that was really dark, almost purple, which seemed to have almost no wear. Those two, surely my mother wouldn’t notice them missing.

“Tiffy, what are you doing?”

Bri startled me –I almost dropped one of the round powder compacts, it could have been a mess.

“Buzz off, weirdo,” I grumbled.

“Is that mom’s makeup?”

“I said buzz off!”

“I don’t think mom would be okay with you doing this…”

She always knew what mom would think of things. Mom wouldn’t allow this, she would want you to do that… I huffed, ignored her, and continued trying on the makeup. From watching our mom I knew that there was some powder that went on the cheeks and some that went on the eyelids, but which one was which was hard to say. Using one of the brushes I patted bright pink dust on what someday would be my cheekbones, carefully watching my reflection in the cracked vanity mirror to guess when it would be enough… Which was sort of hard to say, with the bad lighting in the bedroom and how I already was looking pretty pink. At some point I gave up on the blush and decided to go with the eyeshadow, with a blueish-purple one just like what the pop stars in the dentist office’s magazines wore. Smiling at my reflection I admired what I thought was a pretty neat job. I opened my eyes as wide as I could. There was still a strip of color below my eyebrows. I thought, it was not as difficult as it seemed. Then it was time for mascara, which was definitely the hardest, and I finished it off with the lipstick. I had always wanted to put on lipstick. I remember watching my mother pressing the waxy red bar against her lips, and doing the same with my favorite crayon. Lipsticks, though, stained a lot more a lot faster.

Barely had any time to admire my work, when Bri came back into our parents’ bedroom.

“Tiffy, I’m hungry.”

“So?”

“Mom’s not home yet.”

I looked back at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “Huh. She’s taking her time.”

“I’m so hungry…!”

Bri was already doing that thing she did with her face when she was about to throw a tantrum. It was the only moment in which she wasn’t looking cute.

“Alright,” I sighed, leaving all the things on the vanity table. “I’m pretty hungry myself.”

Mom hadn’t left any food cooking for us, so I improvised. We had some ham slices and cheese and some bread. I used what was left of butter in the fridge to warm it up in a pan and make some nice fried toast for sandwiches. Bri watched along, her eyes growing wide, bouncing and tapping the counter with her hands. She wanted to put mayonnaise and peas on hers, so I let her put as much as she wanted. And then, because she insisted we needed to have something for dessert, we raided all the kitchen cabinets in search of something we could use. We finally found some slightly stale vanilla cookies forgotten behind soup cans. They were really crumbly, so in order to make them a bit sturdier we slathered strawberry jam on them, and topped it off with a dollop of whipped cream that was left in the bottom of a bottle. It wasn’t exactly chiffon pie, but I was quite proud with the little lunch I had managed to make for the two of us.

We filled our glasses with milk and watched cartoons while gobbling down our food, the cheese having melted on the warm bread and making a gooey mess, and we laughed. Bri was an unbearable little sister, no doubt about it, but sometimes it felt like she was the only person I could laugh with. Maybe it was because we were forced to live together. We were like two jail mates who had no choice but to coexist. If she hadn’t been my sister, I knew for a fact that I would never have exchanged a word with her.

Our dishes were empty, Bri was having her second glass of milk, and the mascara was beginning to itch my eyes –when there were the familiar heeled steps on the porch signaling mom was home. I ran back into her bedroom, put the two lipsticks in my pocket, and grabbed a couple of random boxes of eyeshadow, and quickly rearranged everything so as to leave as little evidence as possible of me sticking my hands in there. Then I blew on the vanity, just to make sure there wasn’t any eyeshadow dust on there that could give me away, and I ran toward the toilet and closed the door. I kept quiet for a while, waiting for her to go to her room, waiting with bated breath for her to notice something out of place. But there was nothing. I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The makeup didn’t look half as nice as I had thought it did an hour ago. I washed my face and scrubbed it as best as I could to wash away all traces of the makeup, which wasn’t easy because I was definitely a beginner and didn’t know shit about how to apply it, even less how to remove it. It took a while and I ended up sopping wet, but with a clean face. Out of sight, out of mind.

Bri startled me with a loud knock on the bathroom door. “Tiffy, I need to use the toilet!”

“Leave me alone, dork!”

When I finally came out of the bathroom mom told me off for making such a mess in the kitchen, and ordered me to wash the frying pan, the dishes and the counter. All the while Bri lounged on her chair and kept watching cartoons. It was her who was hungry. I told mom this, but she said I had been the one who made the meals and therefore I had to clean it up.

“Do I need your arms around me? Do I live my life for you?” I hummed to myself as quietly as I could, under the warbling of the tap water dousing the soap off the greasy dishes, to focus on the task at hand and to keep my mind from wandering away to the TV behind me. “Do I always feel so warm each time I look in your eyes of blue?”

Mom had taken the remote control off Bri’s hands, and was now watching some soap opera while my sister played in our bedroom. I watched some of the show with mom but got bored pretty quickly. I went back to my room, singing the Ronettes song under my breath, and distracted myself by spinning one of the lipstick tubes up and down, up and down, admiring the metallic details in the fading light from our little window.

I had a plan for the next day at school. For some stupid reason, I was convinced that my best chance at making friends was to show the other girls in my class that I was actually really pretty, as pretty as they were, and if they just realized that then they would stop bothering me. And that tube of lipstick in my pocket was gonna help me do just that.

After brushing my teeth and combing my hair into the two pigtails I always wore, I made the decision to apply some of the lipstick before boarding the school bus. I had to make a good first impression from the get go. But I couldn’t go too wild too soon, or my mother would notice. There would be time for me to retouch it, like movie stars did, at the school’s bathroom. I grinned, liking the idea. All the girls gossiping in the bathroom, and then I would walk in, just to put a brighter layer of color on my lips. They would ask me where I had gotten the lipstick, and I would tell them it was a gift from my mother. They would think, wow, isn’t she grownup? I would tell them how to properly put lipstick on, and we might take turns each helping the other. And we would leave the bathroom a little bit friendlier with one another, and maybe by the end of the day the girls would say goodbye to me, for once, and call me Tiffy instead of Whiffy. I grinned, blowing my reflection a kiss. Yes, that would make for a wonderful day at school for once.

“Wait—” As I was walking out the house my mother grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. I tried to look away from her, but she grabbed my chin and noticed what I had done with wide open eyes. “Are you wearing makeup, Tiffany!?”

“No…”

She didn’t buy it for a second. Immediately she pulled from the corner of her apron and scrubbed my mouth with it, wiping the painstakingly-applied lipstick away. “Have you gone mad!? Wearing makeup –at your age –to go to school!? What will people think of you!?”

“I just wanted to look pretty—!”

“Pretty? You look like a painted woman –like a floozy! Good God, Tiffany…” She licked her thumb and rubbed my cheeks to clean off whatever was left. “Sometimes I wonder what goes through that head of yours, child…”

“You wear makeup all the time, though…” I said, putting my palm against my cheek, feeling it hot. “I just wanted to look pretty, like you do…”

She scoffed. Compliments worked with some teachers, they used to work with mean girls like Peggy Buckman, but they had never worked with my mother. She saw right through them.

“Well, why is it wrong when I do it, then?” I insisted. “When you wear it always –aren’t you a painted woman, too?”

“How dare you say that,” she said, becoming as red as I was. “Apologize to me, Tiffany, right now.”

I kept silent, with my hand on my cheek, curling my fingers and cupping it. I had my mother’s fat face. I looked up at her. Someday I would end up looking just like her. I had just said I wanted to look pretty like she did –but she wasn’t pretty, and she hadn’t been pretty for a long time now. There was only her wedding picture as proof of it.

“Can’t you just be nice, for once, and apologize?”

I looked down. I think she thought I was covering my ear with my hand and she grabbed my wrist, hard enough I let out a little cry, and pulled my arm away from my face.

“Apologize!”

I didn’t yield. I pouted and kept staring down at my feet. There was a honking –the school bus was about to leave –and mom finally let me go. I ran away towards the street and away from her, grabbing my wrist, rubbing it and feeling the pain become softer and more constant.

Little did she know that I had managed to hide one other little tube of lipstick in my backpack, in my pencil case.

“You got a job at the circus, Whiffy?” Johnny laughed once I got out of the school bathroom. I had applied the lipstick as best as I could, and after quite some minutes of checking it and comparing it to a mental image I had of Marilyn Monroe at all times in my head I thought it was quite an improvement over my first attempt. Clearly, though, it wasn’t good enough.

Miss Collins, of course, had to have a problem with it. She ordered me to wipe it off my face this instant. I asked to go to the bathroom to wash it off, but she said I was not excused from class. I had to rub it off with the side of my arm, and by the burst of laughter when I was done I had to guess I had only made a mess of it. There were no mirrors in the classroom, obviously, but I managed to get a glimpse of myself in one of the windows. Even in the hazy reflection I could see it was a real mess.

It had to have been Bri, right? She had seen me putting makeup on the day before. Surely she had ratted me out to mom, the little bitch. I redirected the anger I felt towards Miss Collins into something more productive: a plan to take revenge on my little sister. Nothing too violent, just a good scare. Something we could laugh about in a few years’ time. Something, though, that would scare the shit out of her for now.

After Miss Collins’ class we had art class with Miss Klasky. She was soft-spoken and thin as a twig, and looked like a soft shove would snap her in half. Looking at her for too long could make you want to cry. I pitied her, her and her big bulging watery eyes, her sunken cheeks and bony fingers, but most other kids just found her funny-looking. Regardless, she was probably the teacher who we were the least afraid of, and that was close enough to mean she was the teacher we liked the most. She never sent anyone directly to the principal’s office, she never raised her voice, she just watched in horror with her big eyes open wide when something went down. Perfect for me to take advantage of the inevitable distraction Darry Cade and Bobby Farrell would make –that day it was a chalk fight, in which each one threw pieces of chalk at each other until one of them landed in the other’s eye and someone was sent to the nurse –and pocket a small jar of red paint for my revenge plan. But it seemed I wasn’t the only one with a plan. While Miss Klasky tried to stand between the two boys without having one of her own eyes poked out by a piece of chalk, and while I made sure the paint jar was closed tight enough to not spill and stain my dress, the other kids at art class opened their own paint jars.

When I looked up at the rest of the desks, I realized, too late, what was going on. And, since I was the only one without a paint jar open at the ready…

Everyone I could see, from Susie Hines and Steven Ciccone to Amy McNab and Johnny Curtis, grabbed their jars and, at Peggy Buckman’s command, they splattered the paint all over me, from my position in the middle of the room. The first splotch of yellow paint fell square on my head, like yolk from an egg, and the shock made me open my mouth –big mistake –because the next one was a green blob that landed on the right side of my face. I tried to cover myself with my arms. That didn’t stop them in the slightest. They kept throwing the contents of their paint jars on me, orange and pink and violet and red and blue, laughing louder and louder. I tried to scream but I had paint in my mouth. I tried to spit it out but there was so much of it…

“What is going on here!?” Miss Klasky exclaimed.

Only then it stopped. I realized I was sobbing, and I got furious at myself for not being able to keep it together, at least until I was alone. There was a silence now, but some kids were still giggling and chuckling behind their hands. I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked like a weird modern painting.

“Whiffy started the paint fight!” Johnny Curtis cried, pointing a finger at me. “We saw her opening a jar of red paint—”

“Yes, she was about to throw it to me!” Peggy Buckman lied shamelessly.

“I wasn’t—!”

“Miss Valentine, I’m afraid I’ll have to send you to the principal’s office,” she said in a tired sigh. “This is… Goodness, this is a mess. Why do you kids do this? What could you even gain from this?” she continued saying in her teary voice. “Why can’t you all be kind and sweet to each other? You don’t understand how difficult it is to be a teacher, to try and keep these sorts of situations under control…”

I just sighed and tried to stop crying, feeling paint dripping down my nape, under my dress, down my neck, down my arms. It was hard to blink with yellow paint over my eyes.

“Go on, Valentine!” Miss Klasky insisted, pointing at the door. “To the principal’s office!”

I huffed and left the room, fidgeting with the little red jar of paint in my pocket, but I stopped right on my heels once I was out of the art classroom. Miss Klasky wasn’t escorting me. I didn’t have to do what she said.

And, before some other teacher saw me running in the halls, I rushed out the backdoor of the school, deciding against wasting even one more second in there, even only to wash my face in the bathroom.

That ugly dark area behind the school was where students came to smoke, make out and not be seen by the teachers. I had heard stuff about fights going on there, about one kid from the eight-grade biting another kid’s ear off a year ago. It was the sort of place Bri wouldn’t set a foot in. It was not the sort of place I would have expected to find the janitor I shared my lunches with.

I stood there for a moment, watching her smoking with her back to me and sitting very still. She eventually turned around and glanced at me with one raised eyebrow.

“Don’t you have class, you?” the janitor said.

“… Don’t you have work?”

There was a silence, but then the janitor smiled, giving me a flash of her rotting teeth, and let out a throaty laugh. “Alright. Do whatever you want, sweetface.”

I looked back at the hall, where any moment now a teacher might pass by and notice me out of the classroom. I decided to sit down beside the janitor, on the concrete steps. It was better to spend that time I needed to kill with her than alone, I thought. She was in her cigarette break, it seemed, but then again it could be she was skipping work too. I didn’t ask her about it.

“Can I have a drag?” I did ask her. She shot me a glance. I smiled as innocently as I could. She sighed and handed me her cigarette.

“You kids start smoking too young.”

“At what age did you start?”

She didn’t answer me. I had started that same year, mostly because Lisa Altomare had started, too, and I thought it would give me something to talk about with her. It really didn’t.

“Do you hear a lot of student gossip, as a janitor?” I insisted.

She let out a hearty laugh. “Are you looking for something to challenge princess Peggy Buckman, Miss Valentine?”

I blushed, gritting my teeth. The janitor just gave me a strong shoulder squeeze that hurt a little.

“I can’t fault you for it,” she said. “I see what these girls do to you, what they do to the other kids. But I promise you, sweetface: nothing I can tell you is strong enough to get Buckman down a peg.”

I let out a small scoff. “Well, I would like to know regardless.”

The janitor took a long drag. “… Amanda McNab practices her crying in the bathroom every morning before anyone else arrives. Movie actress-style,” she told me quietly. “She stares at her reflection in the mirror and begins to sob, and if she doesn’t like it so far she stops and starts over again.”

“How do you know that? Does she do that while you’re still cleaning the bathroom?”

“Indeed she does,” she grinned. She had really bad teeth, yellowing with black gums. Still, I rarely ever saw the janitor smiling, so I was happy to see that. “Are you that surprised to know most people barely register me being there?”

I thought of that for a moment. Of course I wasn’t surprised, when I only had realized the janitor was even a person since I had to have lunch at the same table as her. I was even less surprised for someone like Amy McNab to be so self-centered to not realize there was someone else in the room with her. Still… Didn’t it bother the janitor? I knew I hated it when people ignored me. I was used to it, partly, yes… But that didn’t mean I was alright with it. I was just a kid, though. Nobody cared about what I had to say. The janitor was a grown woman. Shouldn’t she have a way to demand more respect?

“What about Peggy Buckman?” I asked her, scooting a bit closer to her. She smelled rather strongly of bleach. “What weird things does she do?”

“Margaret Buckman… I’m sorry, sweetface,” she sighed. “What can I tell you? Buckman keeps her secrets well hidden, well off this school’s grounds. She complains about her parents to her friends. She discusses whether or not John Curtis is cheating on her. She insults Amanda McNab and Lisa Altomare when they try to joke with her. She’s been calling little Steven Ciccone a fag lately, along with the other boys in the fourth grade. Amanda McNab has been telling her to add Susan Hines to their little clique, but Buckman seems more interested in rejecting her for the time being. But I have a feeling you already know all that.”

I did, mostly, except that last thing about Susie Hines. She was this very pretty girl with soft blue eyes and natural red hair, not like my mom’s but much softer, like copper, and who had joined the school this year. I thought that since she didn’t know anyone else yet, I could be her friend. But Peggy made sure that first thing she knew was that I was a freak and that nobody would like her if she spend any time with me. Since then, apparently, she had decided Susie was a potential enemy.

“… Were you ever bothered by girls like Peggy and Amy, back when you were in school?”

She looked at me with sad eyes, like a cow’s, leaning her head against her hand that held the cigarette. It almost seemed like the smoke was coming out of her right temple. Like she was sad, but somehow still furious, like when cartoon characters were fuming like a steam train. “Yeah, something of the sort.”

I nodded. I wouldn’t end up a janitor, but if I did, I would try to help other girls like me.

“Can’t you tell Principal Hughes about the horrible things they do?” I asked her. “They would listen to you.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I barely talk with Hughes. None of the teachers give a single shit about what I think or what I do. As long as the bathrooms are clean and the halls are waxed, I’m like a ghost with a wage.”

“You think they would fire you, if you told them about Peggy Buckman?”

“No. If I pressed enough, they would, of course. They don’t want me being a bother. But… I really can’t do much to help you, sweetface. I’m simply this school’s janitor. That’s just a fact of life.”

The janitor gave me another of her very sad looks. I didn’t want her sympathy. I wanted her help, and I refused to believe that she was as powerless as she said she was. At the very least, she had experience. If she couldn’t do anything about my situation, she surely knew something about what I could do.

“At the end of the day, the only one you can count on is yourself,” she sighed, as she puffed a big cloud of smoke.

“How did you get through school, when you were my age?”

I wondered if I was annoying her. Most of the time I do, and grownups told me so –usually much earlier into the conversation. By this point, though, I had a feeling the janitor was alright with me asking such questions. If she was bothered by them, after all, she would probably have said something about it. She was a tough-looking woman. She was big and fat and strong. If she smacked me on the back of the head, I knew it would truly hurt. If she grabbed my arm and squeezed hard, she might manage to break it.

“First of all, you must not show fear. That’s how the bullies get off,” she said, putting out the cigarette against the cement steps. “You can’t let them know you’re afraid.”

I wasn’t afraid. I was angry. But in this case, it felt like the distinction didn’t make any difference. “That sounds a lot like what the principal says,” I huffed. “‘Just ignore them’…”

“Well then, sweetface, you go to step two,” she said, and turned to face me. She had a few warts on her face, which made me think of the cardboard witches that decorated the town during Halloween. It felt like she had some sort of ancient wisdom to her. “Make them afraid. Make them wish they never crossed you in the first place.”

I examined her face more closely. Apart from the warts, I noticed some scars on her hands and on her right cheek that I couldn’t see before, because of how she was sitting beside me. I wondered how she got them.

“… I can do that,” I said with a smile.

The janitor kept smoking in silence for a few minutes more before telling me she needed to go back in. I nodded, and told her I was going to skip school for the day. She said nothing to this. I told her I hoped to see her again next day at lunchtime. To that she smiled, and said she hoped the same. While I walked away from school, I wondered if the janitor was my only friend at school. I thought that sounded pretty pathetic, and decided I would not consider her a friend. It would be weird –like considering a teacher a friend. It was just weird.

I had to walk home, since I wasn’t gonna stay around and wait for the school bus to take me home. I knew the way back; it went back to the town center, and from there to the suburbs where most of us lived. That didn’t change the fact that it was a long walk. There was time, though, I told myself. There was no rush to get home.

I rubbed my face with the sleeve of my dress. The paint had already dried, but I still wanted to at least be more or less clear-faced. I was going to be moving across town, and even if it was a weekday, I had the feeling I would come across plenty of people who would look at me funny, with how I was looking.

I passed by the town center just as the church bells rang three in the afternoon. I had no money for an ice cream. The toy store had a sign that said ‘WILL BE BACK IN ‘5’, but I had a feeling they wouldn’t even let me in in the state I was. I wondered if I could sneak into the little cinema on the next block, that I knew was probably open at that time, without paying the ticket; but I really didn’t feel like watching a movie right then.

So, with nothing to do, I decided to hunt for spiders again. The one I had caught the other day hadn’t returned to its web. I wondered what would happen to it, if another spider would take advantage of a fully formed home and move in. That’s what I would do, if I was a spider.

A radio was turned on out of a sudden, startling me, and began playing some music. I didn’t know the song, but I recognized the voice humming along to it.

“Wild thing, you make my heart sing… You make everything groovy… Wild thing…”

It came from the auto shop nearby. My heart made a leap in my chest. Heath was there, his forehead beaded with sweat, his hands dirty with car grease. He took occasional gulps from a coke bottle he left right by the toolbox. The orange afternoon sun shone on him and made him glow. He really was the most beautiful man I had seen.

“Wild thing, I think I love you… But I wanna know for sure,” he said, echoing the words from the radio. “So come on and hold me tight… I love you.”

‘I love you’. When Heath sang it, I could almost imagine he was saying it to me, quietly and softly and sweetly, just to me and me alone.

And I was standing there, looking like a dirty paintbrush, with my sticky pigtails and my ugly dress and my face crossed by color blotches. I was so entranced by the sight of him that I didn’t even have time to run away and hide when he noticed me.

“Hey, you, kid,” he said, crouching down, looking at me with the curiosity of one who finds a weird bug in their backyard. “Are you lost?”

“No…”

“What happened to you?”

I didn’t want to say. Mostly, I didn’t want the first thing Heath knew about me to be how I had no friends at school. I just kept silent, desperately trying to think of something clever to say. He went back into the house, though, and I silently cursed myself for being such an idiot… And he came back, carrying a wet rag, which he kindly handed to me.

“Here, wash yourself up,” he said with a smile. “You went headfirst into an art project, or something?”

I smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s what happened.”

After rubbing my face thoroughly with the rag, wiping as much dry paint off my face as I could, I just had to hope that Heath would believe that ‘art project’ story. I wondered if he liked creative girls the best.

“Thank you,” I said, handing back the rag. My face felt a lot better, even if I still felt some paint itching behind my ears and under my chin. I ran my hands through my hair with the hope that at least that way I would manage to smooth it out.

He glanced at me up and down. I stood very still, throwing my shoulders back very slowly. My mother often criticized my posture, and I didn’t want Heath to think I was a hunched-over creep. He probably already had a pretty skewed first impression of me anyway, though.

“What’s your name, doll?”

It was the first time anyone had called me doll. I grinned even wider. That probably meant he liked me already. “… Tiffany,” I replied, before realizing I should probably speak up. “Tiffany Valentine.”

Heath raised his eyebrows before letting out a little scoff. “Tiffany. Bit of a mouthful. What do your friends call you?”

After considering lying to him for a moment, I couldn’t quite decide what I would like for him to call me. If he was really going to call me at all. “… I don’t have a lot of friends,” I finally admitted. Tiffy was too childish. And I definitely wasn’t gonna tell him what my classmates called me.

“Hm. How old’re you?”

I was about to answer him, but thought it over. “… How old do you think I am?”

Heath laughed, throwing his head back and scratching his chin. God, he was so cute. “Hard to say… You kinda sound like a five-year-old.”

I touched my throat. Did I really sound that childish?

“Here,” he said, handing me the cigarette. “This’ll help you get your voice to catch up with the rest of you.”

I took the cigarette and glanced at him again, wondering what he was thinking about me. I took a drag, making sure to hold the cigarette between my index and middle finger, like I had seen it in movies, and blow the smoke up, like my mother did. When I looked back at Heath’s face he had this rather surprised expression. “I steal cigarettes from my mother,” I explained.

“Huh,” he said simply, taking the cigarette back, looking sort of disappointed. “I wouldn’t have guessed it from the look of you.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, a bit worried. “What do I look like?”

He laughed. “Hard to say. I guess…” Heath glanced at me up and down again. It didn’t feel like he was judging me, like the kids at school did. It felt like he was appreciating me. I felt so glad about it, even though I was still an awkward-looking, paint-splattered fourth-grade kid. “… I guess you don’t look like anyone I know.”

I giggled. The way he said it, it sounded like a compliment.

“You, um… You live here?” I asked him, pointing at the auto shop.

He smiled and nodded. “My very own castle.”

“You live on your own?”

“No, not yet, luck has it,” he sighed, patting the brick wall. “With the old man, he’s back there. He’s deaf, though. An old war wound. So I help him out in whatever way I can… And in return I can do whatever I want.”

“That sounds great,” I smiled.

“Yeah, guess it is,” he shrugged. “Especially for a kid like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I see you, passing by after school,” he said, lowering his voice. “I see your angry face. You make this sort of pout, you see,” And he imitated the pout, frowning hard, puffing his cheeks. I giggled. He had noticed me! “I guess you’re pretty unhappy at school. Makes sense. I hated school.”

“You did?”

“Those who don’t are just lying to themselves.”

“But… Don’t you go to school anymore?”

“Fuck no,” he said, acting offended. “Dropped out in the ninth grade. I’m much more useful here, with my old man.”

I blinked. I knew that kids skipped school, but not that they could drop out entirely. “I want to drop out,” I declared.

“Would your parents be okay with that?”

“No…” I muttered. “But I don’t care. They’re not okay with anything I do anyway.”

“One of those families, hm?”

I didn’t know what he meant with that. It seemed like he had a pretty perfect family. He helped his father around, and his father didn’t bother him. I didn’t think his father would yell at him for forgetting to tidy his room or for not having the best grades or for not getting along with a sibling. Then again, Heath seemed to be pretty sociable. This was one of the rare times in which there wasn’t another guy his age helping him around with a car, laughing with him, sharing a smoke. Maybe those other boys had a family like mine. Maybe we all wanted to be friends with Heath, to have a moment in which we felt like he was part of our family, and that everything was alright. I knew I wish I could have stayed with him there, at the auto shop, and reinvent myself.

“I’d like to learn to drive,” I said out of a sudden.

He laughed again. “You? I don’t think you’d manage to hit the pedals, Tiffany. You still got some growing up to do.”

“Well, I gotta learn someday…”

“Surely you’ll eventually get yourself a nice guy who’ll drive you around,” he said, leaning back against the hood of the car.

“Maybe… But I’d like to know, anyway. I wanna be able to get into a car and leave… To go anywhere I want.”

Heath nodded with a sigh. “That’s the dream, isn’t it?”

So he understood. “Yes.”

“To be free.”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Where would you like to go?” he asked me.

“Um… I would love to go to Hollywood,” I admitted. “I would like to be an actress, a glamorous one, like Marilyn Monroe. Or to go to New York. I heard it’s full of big shows, and there’s ballet and music and places to go to dance…”

He handed me the soda bottle. There was still some of it left. I took a tiny sip. It was a bit warm, sickly syrupy sweet, and the bubbles tickled my nose. We didn’t have soda at home. It was an unnecessary expense, dad said, only fitting for birthdays or special occasions.

“So, you got it all figured out already, huh?” Heath said with one of his beautiful bright smiles.

Feeling emboldened by his words, I dared to take back the cigarette from his hand. “… I guess I do, sweetface,” I said, stealing the expression from the janitor, keeping my voice low, imitating something I saw on TV. In my mind I was older, and my badly-painted smile was close to seductive, and my voice was not squeaky and baby-like anymore. It was the sort of voice you could say one was using on purpose.

He laughed out loud. I laughed along. “Yeah, you certainly seem to know what you want to be,” he told me. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I kept the smile on my face, believing myself to be quite charming, and nodded.

I wondered once again what Heath thought of me. Did he think I was silly, for showing up to talk to a stranger almost twice my age, about family and cars and running away? Did he find it pitiable? Did he find it relatable? I had a feeling he understood me. He had shared a cigarette and a coke with me. I felt like that was the sort of thing you did with someone you considered a kindred spirit. Maybe, even with me looking like I did, Heath would start to consider me a friend.

“I’m… I’m sorry for showing up looking like this,” I blurted, making a quick vague gesture at my paint-splattered dress. “I know I’m a mess.”

“C’mon, as if I could judge you on that,” he chuckled sweetly.

I frowned, not really understanding what he meant. He smiled a bit wider, and rubbed his hand against his cheek. Only then I remembered he had black car grease all over him. I giggled.

“Now we’re matching,” he chuckled along.

I giggled some more. For a moment I couldn’t look away from his face, his perfect face, how beautiful it seemed even when covered with grease and sweat. I had been watching him ever since I came along with my father to get the car checked, something around a year or two ago. Ever since, Heath had been my image of a perfect man. When I fantasized about being swept off my feet, the prince who did the sweeping off had his features. When I dreamed about a romantic encounter like those in the movies, in which nothing could be said outright but everything was silently understood, it was with a man who looked much like Heath. I wanted him so badly, even as a bratty kid. I wanted someone like him, who understood me and loved me, so desperately. And now that I knew his name, and that I knew what my name sounded when said by him, I felt like I was so much closer to him than ever before.

Eventually I had to said goodbye and get going. However happy I was for that one good thing that had happened that day, I was so tired from walking that, by the time I arrived home, I couldn’t even try to slip in without my mother noticing. And I didn’t really need to. Before I could open the door, it swung open by itself –and my mom stood there right between the porch and the living room. I looked up at her, gathering whatever strength I had left to say hello…

But she didn’t say anything, she just turned bright red and grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the bathroom. She turned on the faucet of the bathtub, shot me one of her glares, and left –and I heard the clicking of the door being locked.

“Mom?”

I banged on the door. I couldn’t open it.

“Mom!”

I paced back and forth, using all my willpower to avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I finally took off my clothes and decided to take that bath that my mother had implied I should take. Joke was on her, I actually wanted to take a bath as soon as I got home. She just didn’t need to lock me up in there for me to do so.

When the bathtub was full, I stepped in. The dry paint peeled off of me and dissolved into the water, making colorful swirls that kept me entertained for a while. Half an hour later or so, though, the colors had all mixed together to make this sort of ugly greyish, dark brownish shade. The water was no longer warm and my fingers were all pruned. I sighed. With the water being that dirty that quick, I thought, I wasn’t gonna get any cleaner. Still, I knew I had paint on my hair, and after putting on some shampoo (we were running out, and to make the most of it dad usually watered it down before we finally threw it away and got more from the store) and washing it as thoroughly as I could, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and dipped my head under water. I loved doing that. I imagined that the sounds I heard while doing that were not too different from those from the ocean. I think what I heard was actually just the rumbling of pipes and sewage system, but in my mind, it was all much more interesting.

I got out of the bathtub, pulled out the drain plug and watched the water being sucked out. When I began being called Whiffy at school, I actually took really long baths every day, and if I hadn’t classes so early in the morning I would have probably taken baths before school too. I used to be worried that I actually did stink. Even mom noticed I ended up all red after my baths after scrubbing myself so hard. She had told me that I didn’t smell bad, that it was just something kids said to annoy me. Now I wondered if my mother smelled something rotten about me.

There was a click on the door. It opened, and mom handed me my pajamas and underwear in silence before leaving back to the kitchen. I put the dirty dress in the laundry basket, but remembered to take the little paint jar and the soda bottle out of my pocket and, before going to the kitchen for dinner, I hid them under my pillow.

“… Where’s my dinner?” I asked once I sat at the table.

Dad, Bri and mom were already halfway through the meal. I had no dish, no glass of milk, nothing. Had mom forgot?

Bri glanced up at me, playing with the peas in her plate. Dad kept on eating as if he hadn’t heard me. Mom stared at me for a moment longer, but sighed and took a sip of her glass. I felt a little nudge against my knee. There was a bread roll, being handed by a small hand across my chair. I shot Bri a little surprised look, but took the bread. Mom noticed, though, and snatched it right out of my hungry fingers, leaving me only with crumbs.

“But—!”

“How was the office today, dear?” mom said mechanically, turning to her husband.

Dad shrugged. “Same old, same old. Rob’s due for a promotion, it seems –though God knows what he has done to earn it.”

“I learnt how to spell my name today in class!” Bri exclaimed.

Dad gave Bri a little smile and continued eating his dinner. Mom kept looking directly at me.

“What about your grades, Tiffany?” she asked me.

“They’re alright,” I said, looking down at my lack of a dish. They weren’t, but I didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“You used to be so smart,” she sighed. “What happened?”

I shrugged. At some point growing up I lost whatever ability I had to keep focused on something. Sounds were all too loud for me, too loud to ignore. Every little movement called my attention. And literally everything, from a lice crawling through Mark Hawkins’s hair to a new mole on Amy McNab’s shoulder, was more interesting than whatever Miss Collins was yapping about. I knew that if I said anything about this, though, mom would say I was just being difficult. Good grades were extremely important for her. She often said a good education lasts forever. I was sure Bri was going to take that advice to heart: even as young as she was, she was already getting the best grades. Me, I was a lost case. I think everyone at my house knew that already, even if we all preferred to pretend it wasn’t an issue.

“You should get a hobby, or something along the lines,” my mother said, serving dad some more mashed potatoes. “Maybe that’s how you can make some friends.”

“Yeah, find some people who share your interests,” dad said.

“Well… I do like baking—” I said with a shrug.

“A hobby that’s not baking,” mom interrupted with a glare. “You bake for others, and if you don’t have friends for baking right away, I know you’ll…” She let out a big puff of cigarette smoke. “… You’ll just eat it all up by yourself.”

“But… There’s not much else I’m that interested in,” I said.

“So, you find something,” dad said, shoveling forkfuls of potatoes into his mouth.

“What was your hobby when you were my age, mom?”

“I didn’t have any hobbies. I had work to do.”

I frowned. “Well, there must have been something you liked to do—”

“I didn’t have time for hobbies, Tiffany.”

“What about sewing?” I asked her, lilting my voice higher, to sound more like Bri. Sweeter, nicer. “You know so much about sewing… You probably sew since you were my age, right?”

“I learnt to sew since I was your age because I needed to, Tiffany, not because I enjoyed it. I needed to make clothes for myself. I needed to earn money to help buy us a meal.”

“Besides, sewing’s probably not the sort of activity you can learn with other kids,” dad commented. “Nowadays you can just do everything with a sewing machine. Think of something like… I don’t know. What do kids do nowadays, Bri?”

“Some of my friends are joining the Girl Scouts,” she said chipperly. “It sounds pretty fun! You could join too, Tiffy.”

“I’m not joining the goddamn Girl Scouts,” I groaned, watching the warm mashed potatoes with hungry eyes. “They wear that silly uniform, and they have to work… And I’m definitely not joining if you’re joining too.”

Mom pursed her lips, but I think she gave up on trying to get me to behave. I knew now that she could just decide for me not to have dinner, though. So, whether I wanted to or not, I had to behave, at least so I could make sure I would have a plate waiting for me the next night. The rest of the dinner, while Bri told us about some dumb thing that a friend of hers did during recess, I kept absolutely silent, lost in thoughts of Heath’s smile and a shiny new car that would take me away from that place.

After dinnertime mom watched us carefully while we changed into our pajamas. I guess she wanted to make sure I didn’t lose my temper with Bri and try to shove her again. When my sister and I got into bed, she had one last drag of her cigarette, turned off the lights and went back to her own bedroom. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, counting silently to myself as far as I could count. Once I couldn’t hear Bri tossing and turning anymore, I decided it was time.

“Psst… Bri!” I called in a whisper. “Are you up?”

Silence.

“Bri, you little bitch, wake up!”

She still said nothing. I got out of bed and into the hallway, from where I could see my parents’ bedroom. I could hear them snoring. They were all asleep.

I took out my love altar from my closet, and the matchbox I had hidden in my sock drawer. I carefully lit the candles in my little altar and placed the soda bottle in the middle of it, touching the lip of it with the tip of my finger. It was still somewhat sticky. I thought of how Heath looked that afternoon, glowing in the sunlight like in a TV ad, drinking straight out of it, like a kiss. Like I wanted him to kiss me someday.

“Please, please, make Heath love me…” I pleaded in a whisper, my eyes tightly shut, my hands intertwined in a prayer. “Make him fall in love me… Let us be together and in love. Please, please, please…”

The flickering light of the candles made shadows dance on the face of my little Marilyn Monroe cutout doll, on the plastic skulls, shining on the sequins of my altar. It felt religious indeed. Having the sense that something was missing, I picked one of those candy hearts I had sprinkled around, closed my eyes, and laid it on the tip of my tongue, like the Eucharist wafers at church. The ceremony, then, was complete.

I didn’t have much of an opportunity to see if it had changed anything in Heath’s feelings towards me. Soon we had Gladys Buckman’s garden party, and that was the sole center of my mother’s attention (and, therefore, me and Bri’s) for the remaining week leading up to the eventful Saturday.

That morning dad had to leave to do something at work, that excuse that made mom angry but which she said nothing about. While mom finished cooking the casserole she had decided to bring along as a gift and Bri had her bath, I found the perfect moment to put my revenge plan into action. I grabbed all the baby dolls that I had to share with my sister and brought them to the garage, where dad had his tools and all the stuff for fixing his car (he didn’t know how to do it, but he had the tools to show he intended to) and for eventually fixing the lawn mower (which he hadn’t shown any interest in fixing in the last two years). I found a funnel that would work perfectly to what I had in mind. Holding each doll as still as I could, I made the little holes in their mouths just the tiniest bit bigger with a nail and a hammer. Then, I mixed the red paint I had smuggled out of school with a little water in a bucket, to make it liquid enough for it not to dry too soon. I looked around for something to make it less of a bright red, and found a bottle of something called Danish Oil that had a slightly brown color, perfect to darken my paint. I mixed it in (it had a horrible smell) and was delighted to realize that it even made the mixture a bit thicker. Perfect. Now all I had to do was mix like one would mix cake batter, and use the funnel to carefully fill the heads of the baby dolls with the resulting liquid. I couldn’t fill their heads up, of course, because then it wouldn’t be a surprise at all. It had to be just enough so that nothing would be evident while they were sitting down on the shelf –but just enough that they would puke blood when Bri tried to bring them down to play.

“Tiffany!” mom called me while I was making sure the dolls were sitting just like when I had found them. “Come here.”

I had a wave of fear wash over me, wondering if she had seen me. But, as I walked to her bedroom, I realized it was nothing of the sort. It was almost midday but the room was almost dark: she had drawn the thin orange curtains, and she seemed like a hazy silhouette among the cigarette smoke.

“Did you brush your teeth?” she asked me.

“Yes, mom.”

“Did you make sure your nails are clean?”

“Yes.”

“And behind your ears?”

“Yes, mom.”

She nodded in silence. The curlers piled up under the net in her head made her look taller. When she took the cigarette off her lips, I got a glimpse of her mouth. Mom often forgot to buy floss at the store, so she often simply plucked a hair off her head and used that to clean between her teeth. I knew when she did it because her pink gums would have little bursts of blood, like lipstick stains.

“Zip me up, Tiffany.”

I nodded. She turned around and I saw the dress she was wearing under her dress, a skin-colored thing made of elastic and stretchy fabric that, I had to assume, was worn to dissimulate the rolls that apparently popped out right after being taken her wedding picture. If she was to wear a tight dress like that which she had prepared for the occasion, it made sense for mom to want to appear as smooth as possible.

“Remember to be extra polite today, do you hear me, Tiffany?” she said while I struggled with the zipper. A drop of sweat fell down her back and under the floral fabric of her dress. “And don’t forget to smile. Remember, the face you give the world tells the world how to treat you. And don’t take more than two pieces of food from the buffet. And don’t wolf things down like you often do, eat slowly and properly. And always say please and thank you. Our behavior will be closely watched by the Buckmans. We need to make a good impression.”

There was a fat pink mole on my mother’s back, like a weirdly placed nipple, squeezed upward by the collar of her dress. I wondered if mom knew about it. Then I realized that of course she did, and that she probably had tried to hide it under the dress. What she probably did not know was that it had reared its head back out.

“Done,” I said, staring at the mole. Mom sighed and took the net off her head, and began removing the curlers. I watched her, trying to remember how she did it. Someday I would wear curlers too, and my hair wouldn’t be straight and dull anymore.

It was too late for curlers then, but still, I wondered if my mother, in her experience, had something she could do for me. “Um… Could you do my hair, please?” I asked her. Even a ponytail would be better than what I had. Two pigtails, a crooked fringe, and a forgettable face.

Mom the tried to brush my hair and make it so that it curled inwards at the end, like the pretty little girls in the fashion catalogue magazines at the dentist’s. Problem was, my hair didn’t seem to want to stay any other way but straight. So I sat on her lap while she pulled and brushed and brushed, trying to force it into shape. By the time she was done and hair-sprayed it securely in place, I had tears in my eyes and felt like I had just been scalped.

“Mom, how do I look?” Bri asked, coming into the bedroom, twirling in her new dress. Mom smiled at her, bringing her hands together.

“Lovely, dear,” she said, kneeling carefully as to not rip any seams in her tight floral dress (she had already hurriedly mended the sleeve of my pink dress that Bri had ripped before, and I assumed she didn’t want to have to do that all over again), and adjusted the waistband of Bri’s skirt. “This needs to be worn higher, though…”

She pulled it up and Bri winced. Higher and it clearly squeezed her too much. Bri was still pretty small, and she didn’t even have a semblance of a waist. The dress was meant to create an illusion of one –though it wasn’t very successful. Still, mom tried. She huffed quietly and undid the bow at the waist to tighten it. Bri groaned; mom shushed her.

“Now, that’s better. You look like a doll,” she said with a smaller smile. She didn’t seem to really think it was any better. Bri did look more like a doll, though, for what that was worth. Not like one of those beautiful Barbies, of course –more like the misshapen baby dolls I had just improved.

“What about me, mom?” I asked as I barely dared to touch the hair she had tried so hard to make pretty. “How do I look?”

Pursing her lips, she gave me a look up and down.

“You look… Acceptable.”

Bri and I sat on the bed while she redid her makeup. I thought of what she had told me, about the painted women, the floozies. I had looked up that word in the dictionary in the tiny bookshelf we had in our own bedroom. It read, ‘a vulgar or sexually promiscuous woman’; I wondered if mom really thought I was vulgar or sexually promiscuous. I wasn’t even a woman yet! Still, I didn’t understand why the way someone looked would reveal how someone behaved. Peggy Buckman, after all, was as pretty as could be, and she was easily one of the most awful people alive.

Finally, mom decided she had done the best she could, pulled at a couple of red curls to properly frame her face, and turned to us with a new cigarette between her fingers. “Are we ready, girls?”

Peggy Buckman’s house was huge, the largest in the neighborhood. The Buckmans lived in an angular piece of work that tried very hard to mesh some old style with the new modernism that was predominant. They had a big roomy lawn, though, surrounded by trees, with a little blue pool, a grill and a few lawn chairs, which seemed to have been plucked out of Better Homes and Gardens. There was a greenhouse worth of flowers all around the house, in the foyer (the house was so big it had a foyer), in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in vases adorning the few little garden tables.

“Tell your mama, girl, I can’t stay long… We got things we gotta catch up on,” sang the music on the radio. I tapped my feet, bopping my head along, just to not appear too serious or too nervous. “Mm, you know, you know what I’m sayin’… Can’t stand still while the music’s playin’…”

All the women announced themselves by clicking of heels and a big heavy cloud of strong perfume. Each varied in scent but it was mostly fresh flowers and bright citric, reminding me of that little spray of juice an orange has when peeled. At some point it all mixed together though. I sniffed myself from time to time, wondering if any of it had rubbed off on me, whether I should have stolen a spritz of my mother's before coming. For all that was worth, Peggy smelled like roses, even from a distance.

My mother’s bright red hair, so bright it seemed unnatural, were in curls so tight that it made it all look like a wig. There weren’t other red headed women at the party. There were light brunettes and blondes of different shades, maybe a strawberry blonde (what a wonderful little expression for something so mediocre) here or there, but mostly things that don’t defy belief. It was easy to spot my mom in a crowd. Maybe that was why I immediately walked away from her when she began socializing with the other parents, even though I didn’t really want to socialize with my classmates myself. Still, I looked pretty. Prettier than what I usually looked, at least, which wasn’t much; but I had my lovely pink dress on, and my hair was brushed nicely, and I had practiced my smile in front of the mirror every morning this week for the specific purpose of improving the relationship between me and the girls at school. The cigarette smoking hadn’t worked, the makeup wearing hadn’t worked either. I was running out of patience and of options. Regardless, I had to try.

“Hello,” I said, approaching the group of girls, with my rehearsed smile. They all just stared at me, at my audacity. “Um… Peggy, I want to say something to you.”

She exchanged a slightly surprised look with Amy, who just giggled nervously. Peggy turned back her attention to me. “Go ahead, Whiffy.”

I swallowed my anger, like I had done so many times before. I kept in mind what mom had said about being polite, and what Heath had said about my voice sounding like that of a younger child. For them to take me seriously, I made an attempt to lower my voice just a bit, just enough so that they could understand I was being a hundred percent honest. “I wanted to apologize for what I said to you back in school. When I called you the ugliest bitch in the world. It was mean of me to say so—”

“You don’t say.”

“And so I wanted to say that I’m truly sorry for what I did, and that I hope you can forgive me,” I finally said. I didn’t really feel sorry for what I did, but if it took me to lie about it for Peggy to forgive me and realize that maybe she didn’t need to keep calling me names and mocking me, then it would have been worth it.

Unfortunately, that it very much not what happened.

As soon as I finished talking, Peggy, Amy, Lisa and all the other girls burst out laughing.

“You, Whiffy, sorry?”

“Do you think we’re stupid?”

“You’re crazy! As if you could ever be anything other than a crazy ugly weirdo!”

“Apology not accepted,” Peggy said coldly. “I don’t even know why my mother invited you here.”

“Yeah, go away!”

“Go back to the farm where you were born!”

“Yeah, look at that dress!”

“Look at that hair!”

“She looks like an old ragdoll!”

“Is that what you think people in parties wear?”

“You never go to parties, clearly!”

“It’s like a dress from a hundred years ago!”

“You look ridiculous, Whiffy!”

“Go back to the circus, Whiffy!”

I felt my eyes becoming hot and glassy. I was about to cry. The janitor had told me, to not show fear. And I wasn’t afraid. I was angry. I was sad. But I wasn’t afraid –but I was crying, and I knew what they would think about it. I wanted to say something clever and curse them and insult them, but I knew that whatever I said they could tell their parents, and they would tell my mom, and I would end up looking like the bad girl. There was nothing I could do. There was never anything I could do: if Peggy Buckman and Amy McNab and the rest of the girls called me Whiffy, then there was nothing I could do about it, no amount of smiles and apologies and kindness that would change that.

Feeling dizzy, I tried to run away. Where, it didn’t matter –anywhere but next to the cackling crowd of girls. I tried to spot my mom in the crowd, and I saw her red curls pretty far away, inside the house, far from the yard. Some other kids were now coming closer, having heard the laughs, and were probably wanting to laugh, too. I turned around and tried to find some other direction to run towards –when I stumbled –I tripped –and next thing I knew I was hitting my shoulder against something hard and I had first my head, then my body, and lastly my feet underwater. I had fallen in the little blue pool. Too shocked to do anything, I sank to the shallow end, looking up at the sky, at the blurry faces of the kids watching me watching them. Underwater, I couldn’t hear anything but the rushing of my blood thumping in my head and the echoes of faraway voices. I wished I could stay there, hidden from the others. But I had to breathe at some point –and I pushed myself upwards –and took one big gasp of air –and suddenly I heard all the laughter, all the music, all the noise, and my own desperate sobbing and coughing.

“Hey, she got the way to move me, Cherry… She got the way to groove me…”

I dragged myself out of the pool. I was sopping wet, my hair all ruined, my pink dress clinging to me, no longer puffy and cute –though, apparently, I had been the only one who had thought it looked cute. A few hands reached out to me, pulling my hair, my dress, and I tried to swat them off. I hoped that the water streaming down my face from my fringe would hide my crying.

“God, you’re a mess, Whiffy,” Peggy laughed loudest of all. “Where are you going, now? Cry into a piece of cake?”

“Go back to the circus, Whiffy!”

“Look at the sad clown!”

“Gonna eat some cake to cheer you up, Whiffy?”

“You should leave,” Peggy said, now walking beside me while still keeping a bit of distance just so she didn’t get water on her own stylish and modern green dress. “What are you even gonna do here? Keep being laughed at?”

I said nothing. What could I possibly say?

“Grab your little sister, your ugly fat mother, and leave.”

“Yeah, Whiffy, leave!”

“Shut up, Amy,” Peggy said, giving her a shove, before turning back to me. “So? What are you gonna do?” she insisted. “You’re gonna leave, right?”

‘You fucking ugly bitch’, I thought, my hands curling into fists. Thinking it didn’t make me feel any better. I needed to scream it to her face. But I couldn’t not think of the consequences. I knew what would happen if I dared.

“Yeah –what are you gonna do?” Amy yelled.

What could I do? I was about to cry again. But what would that do? I would just keep feeling shitty. Nothing would change. Peggy and Amy and her other toadies would keep on bothering me, and I would have to see them every day of school, and every day this would all happen again, and nothing I ever did would change that. Nothing. Nothing, except…

“Hey, Whiffy!” Amy shouted. “I’m talking to you!”

And then it happened, like a sudden switch. My patience snapped.

It was like with Bri –but worse, because at least Bri was my own blood. Amy, however –oh, she just deserved a good pummeling.

I jumped towards her like a frenzied animal. I barely gave her a moment to react. Before she knew it she was with her back to the lawn and I was sitting on top of her, straddling her waist and raising my small eight-year-old fists. And, with a furious howl, I punched her directly on the nose. No slaps, no hair-pulling, no name-calling anymore. Full on blows.

There was a cracking sound. I felt a sting in my knuckles. I didn’t stop.

I continued punching her with all the strength I had. She tried to push me away like Bri had done. As soon as she got a hand on me I gave it a bite –she shrieked in pain –but another punch shut her up, now straight to the teeth. Couldn’t see anything but her oh-so-pretty face, now bloodied and bruised, her mouth half open, covered in drool, teeth crooked and one chipped, one eye half-closed and becoming red, her nose all fucked up –and kept on punching it, growing more and more ferocious, hitting faster and faster. Even as I felt the strain in my arms I didn’t feel tired at all. I just felt this burst of energy, this exhilaration. I even smiled. I was happy. Shit, I wasn’t happy –I was ecstatic. It was as if I couldn’t stop even if I tried.

I didn’t, certainly. I wanted to beat Amy McNab into a bloody pulp. I wanted to beat her within an inch of her life.

Maybe I could have been able to do it, if only the noise of the kids gathered around us, watching the show, hadn’t called the attention of the parents.

#childs play #chucky series #fanfiction

[lahijadelmundo]

PARAGUAY – ÑAMONGARU

Ñamongaru – this is a word in the Guarani language, which is one of the national languages of Paraguay. It is being used when in conversation two people or more are agreeing on the same thing or have felt the same. The word can be used, and an action might follow after that. It might be also used to promise something.

The flag of Paraguay

The emotion of going back to Latin America after 4,5 years was indescribably big. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the fact that I will be there again, no matter what happens, was enough to make me really excited.

My friend Julia invite me on a Erasmus+ project, called “Entrepreneurship Skills 4 Youth” which was happening for 21 months now with various activities as job shadowing, training courses and youth exchanges between the countries of Spain, Italy, Paraguay, Uruguay, Belgium, Bulgaria, Chile and Argentina and financed completely by the European Commission. I was lucky to be part of the last training course in Calabria, Italy and now, on the final Conference and biggest youth exchange in Paraguay, where 5 participants of each country took part in.

Our group of 5 Bulgarians started the trip from Madrid, waking up at 5am to take a transatlantic flight with Air China. All good until the moment when we somehow realized (as the crew wasn´t speaking very well English?!) that the plane must go back as of hydraulic problems. So, after 3 hours of flight over the Atlantic Ocean we turned around to go back to Madrid. At some point there was water coming out from the fin of the airplane. The moment we landed the whole plane was applauding the pilot that he brought us back alive. (Although this manner with the final applause is usual among the Bulgarian population, every time it flies, curious fact, I think). The fact that we were at the point where we started was exhausting enough. After hanging for hours at the airport with no information and some vouchers for junk food, we were finally brought to a hotel where we were told to wait until the plain is fixed and we can fly again. It was a false alarm to pack again and jump into the bus again to take us to the airport, as we have found out, that the plain wasn´t fixed yet…. Back to do the line for check in in the hotel (let us not forget, that the whole plain was checking in in the hotel). At least we got some good sleep and in the morning we had to wait again (with no information provided, again). Later, the bus came and brought us to the airport.

Who would know that this initial, full of stress adventure, will mark our travels? Our friends from the project were joking, that we are bringing the bad luck in the group, but it was no joke that many more crazy and inconvenient things happened - we are laughing about the fact that someone cursed us (maybe not really consciously :D)

Our Bulgarian group in front of the waterfalls, Brazilian side

After many, many hours we finally reached the most gorgeous place in Paraguay -  the biological reserve Tatí Yupí.   It is situated in the district of Hernandarias, Alto Paraná Department and located on the right bank of the Paraná river. The reserve is one of 8 sites earmarked as the ecological reserve by the Itaipu, the largest dam in production in the world, located between Paraguay and Brazil. (The story about the dam later in this post!). When we arrived in the reserve, the only thing we wanted was to sleep. I really don´t remember the last time I went to bed at 9pm and the fact that there was a party and an opera singer in front of our dorm of 20 beds (top and down, unsecured and without a ladder) wasn´t bothering us much, we slept like babies. I woke up naturally at 5am because of the time difference and took a walk towards the river. So peaceful. I was thinking the whole time – I am in heaven. After a chaotic everyday life in a polluted and frenetic big city, being in Tatí Yupí felt like magic to me and something I have been waiting for a long time now. I went to the river dock where at 5:30 I saw the sunrise watching towards Paraná river. I wished I could stay at least for a month in this paradise, but as you know not all wishes come true because of various reasons. We enjoyed for a pretty short time the wild, gorgeous mammals walking around freely (like monkeys and coatis) and the amazing subtropical flora, as we had to go back to reside in Ciudad del Este in a random hotel. Now the reasons for that I will spear, as the whole story pisses me off. :D

Coatis in their natural habitat

Ciudad del Este has nothing much to impress with, as it is an industrial city with much of a trading activity as a border town to Argentina and Brazil. I need to always remind myself, that Ciudad del Este does not represent whole Paraguay, as much difficult it is to imagine that, as we have spent most of the time there. We had some fun nights out and got closer with all participants day by day. We had some great dynamics of getting to know each other, starting with games to remember our names and continuing playing games all night in the reserve.  After our first night out, we stayed until sunrise, still drinking, went straight away to breakfast and then woke up to go to the Itaipu dam.  As mentioned before, this is the largest hydroelectric dam on the Paraná River located on the border between Brazil and Paraguay. We went there at midday, all pretty tired from last night, after waiting quite some time again, we realized, that we were late to catch the latest day visit of the dam. (It is important to mention, that all things, that failed to happen on this trip, were mostly because we were late for some reasons as f.e. the drivers were always late or (spoiler alert!) never appeared :D). Most of the group decided to go back to the hotel to take a rest, before we can visit the dam at night and some of us stayed on a cute little beach called Costanera de Hernandarias where we saw the sunset and had the chance to relax. 

Costanera de Hernandarias

Тhat moment of rest was like a sip of fresh air, as our program continued being filled up with activities and we all wanted to spend as much time as we could together. We were still very tired as we came back to the point to see the light show at the electric dam. And we still waited. I was craving to sleep already; the exhaustion was huge. We were loling so hard after the “breathtaking” light show that lasted no more than couple of minutes and for which we waited literally all day long.

Itaipu Dam

But HEY, this is Paraguay. We have been training our patience big time, as waiting turned out to be the national sport there. We also had a motto “No tengo ni idea” Which means – “I have literally no idea”. That was the most probable answer to many of the questions asked in general. As much as we learned to don´t get angry if something is not functioning, the fact, that we missed out 2 nights of partying just to get up very early, so that we can go the Iguazu falls and the bus organized for us did not come at all, was frustrating so all the hopes, all the plans, all the waiting… in the garbage bin :D

The day we managed to reach the Argentinian side of the waterfalls started with almost no waiting (just 20 minutes) and everything seemed wonderful by then. (About the majesty and the natural wonder itself embodied by the waterfalls I will dedicate my next blog post, because the falls and their charm deserved to be described separately.) 

Iguazu Falls

The moment we did the boat tour, though, it started raining. Really hard. At some point it even started to hail. We were just having bikinis and light clothing on, as you get completely wet under the waterfalls. It was a slight storm in the river, even the boat needed to stop, as nothing was visible. All of us were covering our bodies with the waterproof bags we had, where we have put our valuables – the only thing which helped to cover us a bit. At some moment I was just taking deep breaths and was thinking “relax, it is going to be ok”.  We saw some caimans relaxing on the sand while we were disembarking the boat, thinking “hmmm, we would have made a nice breakfast for these buddies if the boat turned down occasionally”. We reached the starting position, but as the rain did not stop for a very long time we boarded an off-road bus which was the only way to go back, so half an hour more in the pouring rain while in the bus. (That was a roofless bus). And THAT was kind of crazy. No, wait a minute. That was beyond crazy. We were shouting pumped up with adrenaline to feel less the cold. My body was already shaking big time. The moment we dropped off my friend Maria and I gave up on the last part of the tour as we were soaking wet and the only thing we dreamt of was warmth and drought. We bought a T-Shirt as a souvenir, but that was more like a saving lives thing, as the most of us have not planned to take extra clothes. Finally, couple of hours later, when we made ourselves on the way home, some strange “eco-tourism” guys in Argentina stopped the bus and told us that all foreigners have to pay a certain fee, just because of the fact that we are foreigners. All the information provided was peculiar enough for us to refuse to pay, which caused unfortunately more circumstances as the police came and told the driver that he was lacking some documents of the bus, so the vehicle has to be let there and we were thrown out short before the Brazilian border with no idea how to get back to Paraguay (to go back there one shall still cross Brazilian border first in order to cross the so called Friendship Bridge to get to Ciudad del Este). In this crisis situation we were told from our organisators to walk toward a hotel in the middle of nowhere in a forest during the night and to wait there until cars will pick us up. We did not know whether to cry or laugh after all this. As it was somehow an extreme situation, there were tensions between us, but this is normal, when people are not used to situation like this, they have difficulties to stay calm. After we got some water, food and blankets in this hotel we felt again like humans and almost knew how a refugee feels like. The top of the cake was, that when we reached after hours our hotel, our suitcases were left in the Tatí Yupí reserve, as it was planned for us to reach there by night on the first place. There was no chance to go there for one reason or another (``no tengo ni idea``), so practically we stayed in the hotel with the soaked clothes we had on until the next day, when our stuff was brought back.

In the end of our stay, after saying emotional goodbyes, our Bulgarian group was brought the last to the bus station (respectively waited the longest :D), as we needed to catch a bus to Foz do Iguaçu. It turned out, that we have missed the last bus to the city. Nothing can surprise us anyways after all what we have been through. But bad things happen for good, at the end our organizer payed us a taxi to reach our hosts - we have split in two groups and did couch surfing. The half of us had a good experience, the other half landed in a miserable, stinky place with no windows, full of fleas and dogs barking, with a miserable one sofa for two people to sleep on. They have switched to a hostel after getting uber twice -  first to get to our place to get some WiFi and secondly to reach the hostel. The next day the other half of us booked the hostel as well to stay together. Marco das Tres Fronteiras, Eating Açaí Icecream and visiting the local gasolinera for a night party was on the program that last day for us in Brasil.

Marco das Tres Fronteiras 

The journey ended as it started though, I had to wake up after 2.5 hours of sleep and catch a plain from Foz to São Paulo, where I waited for 10 hours to catch a 10 hours transatlantic flight to Madrid, to wait there 12 hours again to catch a 4 hours Ryan Air flight to Sofia. It was soooooo surreal reaching Sofia, it was hard realizing where we were. And don’t ask me how we survived. Worst part was that our Friend Julia had to stay in São Paulo for one more day, as they fucked up something with her flight. Oh, not to forget as well, that they have switched her bag with the bad of another friend, while checking in so she stayed there with her stuff flying away towards Europe.

Hard to believe that all this and much more happened during last two weeks and it was hard to come back to cold Sofia, without all this 40 wonderful people around. These stories above are fun to tell, but the sensationalism will fade with  with time. As one of our Spanish friends said – the people have marked me more than all the mud in the ecological reserve (and this mud does not wash away, by the way). I feel the best when I am in a multicultural environment, it just feels home. All the obstacles and problems we had made us more united, closer and stronger. Despite the extreme situations and all the suffering, we created an amazing and strong connection and this will surely be the seed to something great in the future. All of us had something to give an teach to the rest and it was a remarkable experience overall!!!

Our lovely group

I want to learn Guarani or another indigenous language! I want to learn how to animate a big group of people!  I want to learn how to empower local youth and give it sense of belonging! I want to learn how to create things with my own hands! I want to deepen my knowledge in intercultural communication! I want to learn more about the cities of the future and to get even more familiar with the digital word and social entrepreneurship! I want to meet again all these wonderful people, learn and share with them! I will never forget the awesome moments we had. After all, going back to Latin America has covered my expectations and left me with inspiration and excitement about mutual future projects, that we might work on together.

I am sipping out from my tereré (infusion of yerba mate, similar to mate but prepared with cold water and ice rather than with hot, and in a slightly larger vessel) right now, feeling in the past days and I just want to to say to all my new encounters: “Te veo y veo la belleza, que hay en ti.  Ñamongaru.”

Tereré

[daveliuz]

[janiedean]

(part 1) ur gonna roast me for this but im legit curious why mafia AUs are so bad? im asking in a non confrontational way, i get it romanticizing mafia is wrong, but i also believe that 1)most mafia AUs are a really toned down type of mafia;2)they do make for some interesting kinds of dynamics with fanart and with fics; 3)in a fic specifically u can create your own world and call something mafia and still make it so they don't kill innocent people but only idk members of other gangs or sth

(part 2) plus theyre a way to put ur charas in a completely diff context and see what theyll do. i mean i dont believe that writing ships in a certain context (like mafia) equals romanticizing that context. mafia AUs arent even my fav things to read (in fact i almost never do), im sure many ppl romanticize it and i obvs dont agree with that but im just trying to udnerstand bc i believe fandoms are a way to explore things that we normally wouldnt.

I’m not gonna roast you don’t worry xD okay wait let me check if I replied to this already if yes I’m gonna c/p because it’s half past midnight otherwise I’ll just go at it again wait *checks tags* fff obviously I don’t have a general post but anyway pls read this after you’ve done with my post and then this which is also choke-full of links. plus for a (not nice) laugh: here. AH WAIT I FOUND THE POST.

okay, so, let’s have it out of the way: I have nothing against mob aus or crime aus. I have a problem against calling them mafia AUs because in the US mafia = organized crime at large, in Italy mafia = ACTUAL EXISTING ORGANIZATIONS THAT ARE ACTIVELY HARMFUL. now that I introduced the topic I’ll c/p you the reply I gave to another anon who while discussing the issue pointed out that most writers don’t even know Italian mafia is a thing, which is pretty much on the same discourse so...

*The thing is - in the US it might not be enough of a deal anymore and I honestly do get why people make the mafia = regular mobsters, since the mafia was the first foreign organized crime being exported to the US via italian immigrants (sorry if this sounds horrible in English but I just woke up and I still didn’t have coffee) so I understand that mafia became the umbrella term.But the thing is that - as you said, these people don’t even know that there’s a mafia in Italy anymore or where the word comes from.

 I’m going to link to italiansreclaimingitaly’s tag about the mafia and its perception outside Italy because they posted about this extensively and it’s an excellent resource, but meanwhile I’m gonna do a very short bullet point list and about the topic:

Mafia might not be a big deal in the US, but it still is here. We have the beauty of four different mafias (Cosa Nostra - the Sicilian one, camorra which is the one in Campania but has tendrils spread everywhere, the 'ndrangheta which is in Calabria and the Sacra Corona Unita in Puglia) which are all active [especially camorra and 'ndrangheta] and whose actions have direct impact (negative) on our economy and on our society. Actually mafias are one of the main reasons we’re currently economically fucked up, and if I start talking about how mafia culture keeps some areas literally backwards I could talk about it for three months.

There are still people who are killed for standing up against them. These days the most prominent personality is Roberto Saviano who is a writer who dared to put together a book documenting minutely the way camorra works and he’s been living under protection for years by this point. Like, they want him dead because he wrote a book. And I’m sorta sure that he was talking about leaving Italy and going to the US after years of sticking with it here because he can’t take it anymore but I don’t know if it was a taken decision or if it’s still debating it.

It wasn’t even thirty years ago that we had the stragi di mafia - in english it’d be something like the mafia slaughters, basically around the beginning of the nineties there were a number of bombs planted by the mafia targeting people who were trying to oppose it including judges Falcone and Borsellino, actually the anniversary of Falcone’s death is like... tomorrow. And they’ve killed people for way longer than that. Here is a list of only Cosa Nostra victims including the ones from the eighties/nineties. And people are still dying because of it. The slaughters I’m referring to are just the ones in the nineties which are enough of a number.

They also perpetuate a culture where if you testify against your mafia-employed relatives you’ll be shunned forever. There are women who testified against their families and couldn’t see their children anymore never mind that they weren’t automatically considered a relative anymore the moment they sided against the mafia. Some people have committed suicide after becoming witnesses also because our police force/justice system can be terribly non-supportive in this kind of situation so they got left on their own. Never mind that back in the day - it was the beginning of the nineties? - I recall at least a particular story of - I think, correct me if I remember wrong but I can’t remember the names for the life of me - where this guy testified against the local mafia when he either used to work for them or was forced to pay them the pizzo and in retaliation his six-year old (or five? Anyway he had a son younger than ten for sure) got kidnapped, killed and thrown into acid to dispose of the body. That happened in what, 1993? 1994? It’s pretty much yesterday. And now the camorra is doing the same - there’s a list here of camorra victims among which accidental passerbys that got killed because they were in the way which I can tell just by glancing is not complete. And I’m not even going into the 'ndrangheta. That is to say, here mafia still kills people and cripples our country.

Now, I get that it’s a word, but the point was: let’s say that instead of the Italians the Japanese came to the US first and the umbrella word for organized crime was yakuza rather than mafia and let’s say yakuza was still what it was originally in Japan while in the US it stopped being a big deal and people write yakuza!AU instead of mafia AU. Let’s say someone Japanese gets angry at that and goes like 'listen the yakuza is a real deal it does this this this and that and it’s a plague in our country so can you please at least look it up before writing your fanfic’, which is what had happened way back then when this whole mafia and fanfic thing blew up. A bunch of people told us to get over it because it’s just a word and if it’s a problem in Italy it’s not in the US so why should they care? Now, if we had been Japanese (or Chinese or Russian or Mexican) would they have said the same thing? Considering the general tumblr attitude I’m pretty sure they would have received either an apology or 'this is an important deal let’s keep that in mind’ with signal boost reblogs and stuff. 

It’s the fact that we should get over people not knowing that it’s still a real problem for us and that they can’t take five seconds to google it that is the problem imo. Especially when instead of mafia au you can just say mobsters au or tag it as organized crime and everyone is a lot happier, mostly because as the tag above explains romanticising the mafia is a good thing for them because it means they can act outside Italy with less stigma because everyone thinks that the mafia is dead or not relevant anymore, if I’m explaining myself. (And it’s active outside Italy - like, there was a mafia kill in Germany in 2007 where six people died (sorry the link is in Italian but there isn’t an English wiki page, if you look the city up you’ll find something probably) and it was because of the 'ndrangheta.

I’d really like to not get worked over it because it meant it was a thing of the past y'know, but the problem is that it isn’t and I’d rather spread some awareness in hope some of these writers look it up (because it’s a good thing that people know what mafia is since as stated they have tendrils everywhere - if you read Saviano’s book the entire first chapter is about how camorra regularly deals with Chinese import/export in Italy for one) than shrug and figure that since they’ll think everything is good for fanfic then it’s not even worth my time.*

Now, ^^^ that was the c/p-ed reply that should answer most of your doubts. What I didn’t address was:

im sure many ppl romanticize it and i obvs dont agree with that but im just trying to udnerstand bc i believe fandoms are a way to explore things that we normally wouldnt.

aaaand as we say here in Italy, this is where the donkey falls (sorry we have weird sayings), because in theory there’s nothing wrong with that... except that in 99% of the mafia aus I’ve seen around the thing is that they’re supposed to be cute.

like, I see a lot of shit with TINY MAFIA BOSS STEVE ROGERS with RUSSIAN ENFORCER BUCKY (????? bucky isn’t even russian???) and the yoi thing I saw before had the japanese character being the leader of a russian mafia gang which is... like... guys it doesn’t happen it really doesn’t, and a lot of them re-use wrongly terminology taken from the godfather without context or knowing what the hell it means, and it’s always from the criminals’ pov and they’re somehow seen as criminals doing justice where the police can’t (???) and like... no. mafia bosses/enforcers/employees are bad people period, and at least here if you try to leave or repent they kill your family in retribution. like, not even ten years ago there’s been a woman who used to belong to a mafia family (or one colluded with the mafia) who testified and her entire town/family shunned her and she couldn’t take it anymore and... killed herself drinking acid if I don’t recall wrong. it’s not even special cases. this shit is not funny, it’s not cute, it’s not adorable and it’s not good fodder for your imagine your otp scenario (srsly I saw one like.. let me find it,

LIKE. just look at this shit. in a regular context, the enforcer goes to the show owner to force them to pay a monthly sum to their boss lest they destroy their shop and their lives and their family’s life never mind that mafia culture is deeply homophobic so the mafia enforcer flirting with the shopkeeper is like completely fucking out of the question. I mean, people here like to shit on the sopranos but that show was actually excellent representation of Horrid Criminals Who Were Never Supposed To Be Good People and the small arc that happened when one of tony’s friends turned out to be gay (closeted) was REALLY well done. btw, it ended that when they found out he was gay most of the crowd rejected him and thought badly of him until I think they killed him also for other reasons, but that spiraled from finding out he liked dick. and that’s american mafia that they actually based on well-done research of the culture in Italy it came from, I assure you that here it doesn’t work that differently. like. the shit above is so inaccurate and frankly offensive, it’s like... I get people romanticizing problematic stuff but the thing is that when you tell them that it’s actually offensive you get brushed off as ‘ah well you’re being too sensitive it’s just a word u__u’. now, I’m all for exploring shit we wouldn’t be into, but not like THAT, because that’s like mafia romantic comedy and that’s not how it works. now, you wanna do a fic where the mafia characters are deeply flawed and bad people and the police tries to catch them? fine, great, go ahead. you wanna do a fic where the enforcer above deals with dunno an entire life of internalized homophobia when he finds the shopkeeper attractive and feels conflicted over having to con money out of him and doing horrible shit for a living and maybe understanding that crime isn’t worth it and then he actually collaborates with the police and gets shit from about everyone he knows and loves for that? okay, awesome, go ahead. nothing bad in that.

but the shit above is not exploring things we wouldn’t/writing darkfic, it’s THINKING THAT A CRIMINAL ORGANIZATION WHICH IS STILL A THING IN OUR PART OF THE WORLD IS CUTE AND ADORABLE. and that only plays in their favor because it takes the bad aura out of the word and we really should not let that happen. like. that is what is bad about mafia aus and mafia discourse, that people don’t realize the mafia is alive and well and thriving and not a thing that doesn’t exist or a generic word for organized crime.

you wanna write the shit above? okay, CALL IT CRIME AU or mob au, not mafia au.

btw, add-on: idk if I mentioned it in the above post or not, but in case I didn’t, I said that people would balk at the idea of a mexican cartel au. sadly since then I’ve found out a fandom where not only there is one but it’s also extra cutesy and people apparently love it and it has a bunch of kudos/comments and idek I’m not even touching that with a ten foot pole but like... I’ve avoided it and everything that author wrote because to me it’s just... nope. like, nope. if you do mafia aus don’t make them fucking cute. (also: in the same fandom I had to mute a v. famous fanartist whose art I actually liked but did cutesy mafia aus and.. like... haahahhaahahahahaha nah sorry. can’t go there. nope.)

#mafia #mafia for ts #Anonymous #ask post

[annittavalence]

Fallout OC Interview

Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same.

If you want to do this! this is your sign!

What is your name?

Annitta Valence shortened to V or Vee.

How old are you?

34

What do you look like?

Human, Caucasian/Italian, slightly mutated. Hair, shaved on the sides, long on the top with a mowhawk, often worn down (not styled). Eyes are crazy, green, orange glow, due to mutation. Scars and markings facial Vitiligo around her left eye, scars on her right temple and under eye, above lip on the left. Neck tattoo that comes up onto her chin. Heavy facial piercings. Medium, sunkissed skin tone.

Where are you from? Where do you live now?

My family was from Italy, a small village Stilo, Calabria but they moved to America before I was born, eventually they ended up in Boston since my Father settled into a job at Corvega and my mother raised me at home. I ended up buying a house with Nate in Sanctuary hills once we married and I was pregnant with Shaun. Now though? I prefer to spend my free time in Goodneighbor, Hancock organised an apartment for me in one of the buildings, it’s quite nice.

What was your childhood like?

It was..like most I suppose? rough at times but we had what we needed and we did alright. I didn’t enjoy school and I’m not very academic, so I pushed and begged and nagged until  my Father let me learn from him. I became a Mechanic since I found I had the mind for it. I persuaded the place my Father worked at to let me do some volunteer work around their workshop. I guess I did well because they offered me a solid job after just under a year. Never seen my Father so proud of me, it’s a memory I cherish.

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

The Railroad, The Minutemen and Goodneighbor.

Tell me about your best friend.

Hancock is my closest friend, if it weren’t for him..I’d probably be dead. I would do anything for him, without question. I made a lot of deep friendships in The Railroad and that’s all I’ll say about them. Sturges is an absolute delight and is the first person I bonded with, about mechanics and tinkering of course! Many nights were spent sitting around Sanctuary exchanging knowledge, I always stop by with him whenever I stay in Sanctuary. And of course, MacCready, much more than a lover, so much more.

Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

Well, there’s Shaun of course, even if I don’t know whether he’s alive.. there was Nate..my parents..Family in Italy.. My parents, I’m sure died when the bombs dropped, I’ve not found them at least.. and my family in Italy? I have no idea, I have no way of contacting them.

But really, I have my new family, here in the Commonwealth. So many of them, MacCready and hopefully Duncan, Nick, Piper, Nat, Ellie, Hancock, Daisy, Irma, Ham, The Railroad, The minutemen, Preston, Sturges, The Longs, Mama, Cait, Longfellow, Gage, Danse..gosh..

What about a partner or partners?

MacCready, my sweet soul. We are quite open and polyamorous, so often Hancock, Deacon, sometimes Cait, Ham, Gage and Mags.

Who are your enemies, and why?

The Institute..they probably have Shaun and god knows what they’re doing to him! They ruin lives, orphaning children and taking spouses, sometimes replacing them with a replica to feed back information for whatever reason. They are constantly shitting on the underdog and I can’t stand it.

The Gunners, I hadn’t even heard of them until I overheard them yelling at Mac in The Third Rail. Didn’t even know Mac back then, let alone thought we would be where we are today..but..the way they spoke to him, the things they said..it just got my back up and that was enough for me to hate them. Then I ended up hiring Mac, getting to know him, he told me more about them, we had several run ins with them until eventually, we formulated a plan to take down Winlock and Barnes, driving them back. No one fucks with anyone I care about.

The Disciples, a raider gang in Nuka world. NOTHING I did or said would convince them to live in peace with the traders and settlers of Nuka world. I gave them their own section, I fixed up the fucking park but no, they were just too far gone, cannibals and psychopaths. I managed to save a couple of them, who were just going along with them so they didn’t die, but eventually we had to wipe them out. It took MONTHS to clean their base up, burn all the bodies of the people they’d killed, and theirs of course. Now it looks quite nice and we’ve turned it into a big housing hub for the traders. The pack and The Operators are actually doing really well together, Mason and Mags agreed to weeding out the more barbaric of the members, the ones who didn’t want to live in relative peace. Now they have a couple settlements each in the commonwealth where they’ve actually been hunting game and running jobs for my other settlements, they get a cut of the caps and loot and we always call on them for big jobs like institute attacks and mutant takeovers etc. 

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

I despise the way they speak to Hancock and Nick and when they’re in my presence, they tend to hold their tongue but I have smacked a few of them for their comments. Maxson is...a problem, he’s way too extreme but I do feel like there’s a reasonable and genuine person under that mantle, which honestly must be quite heavy. A lot of the members I’ve met are actually really pleasant and helpful, Knight Rhys is an asshole but there’s always one. 

From what Mac tells me, the Brotherhood inhabiting the Capitol Wastes are a bit crazy, but they DID do a lot for the wasteland, clean water was returned, which sounds amazing. I’ve been to DC a few times, pre war of course but I’d like to see it now..as morbid as that sounds, plus Duncan is there and I can’t wait to meet that tiny man!

Some people have told me stories about outcasts from the Brotherhood who were truly insane, just killing indiscriminately and stealing from settlers...which kinda sounds like the ones here....a little.. and then I met a trader from the Mojave and they told me about the presence there...the less said about that one the better.

I like Danse though! 

What about The Enclave?

I’ve only heard stories, Mac has experienced them first hand and he doesn’t really talk about them too much. Everything I’ve heard has been bad though.

How do you feel about Super Mutants?

Strongs cool, funniest one I’ve ever met but LORD he never shuts up! I built him his own place, got him a couple of dogs and taught him how to farm. He’s doing alright, travels around with his dogs and visits the settlements....much to the settlers dismay. I’ve had him start wearing a specific hat so that the guards don’t just shoot at him when he’s on his travels. Most of them have grown to like him and a lot of the children love him. For some reason he’s very protective of Mac...none of us know why.

I met another friendly Mutant in Far Harbor, he takes in dogs and trains them, sells them onto people. I’ve given him a lot of business since I found him. Cant persuade him to come to one of my settlements though.

As for the hostile ones.. most of them aren’t too hard for us to take down anymore, it’s when there’s a swarm of the fuckers. Mac and I tend to travel just the two of us and we’re both snipers, we can use shorter range weapons of course but we are way more deadly with our rifles, so it’s always a bit awkward when they close the distance. Suiciders will always send me into a panic though.

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

Nisha...Mac and I must have given her 5 shots each..and she still kept coming, screaming and bleeding, waving her blade around. She finally stopped inches from my face, Mac got her in the face through the space for her eyes. I was just frozen, never seen anything like it. Mac had to walk me over to a bench by the shoulders and sit me down.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

A few, we try to avoid them though.

Do you like fighting?

Yes and no, neither of us likes to have to do it, it’s a means to live but sometimes the adrenaline is amazing.

What’s your weapon of choice?

50cal Sniper rifle, NV recon scope, recoil compensating stock with a suppressor. 

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

Depends on the situation, I’m pretty good at talking us out of a bad situation, I’m pretty strong for my size and fairly agile. ( S:7 P:8 E:5 C:9 I:7 A:6 L:5)

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?

Yes..not a big fan.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

I have a few mutations now, my eyes are all messed up, I get nausea which makes it difficult to remember to eat. I visit a Dr regularly to get my rads cleared and get some fluids. We thoroughly cook our meat and veg and maintain the water filters regularly to try and reduce the exposure.

What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

RAD CHICKEN! I love them!

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

Cave Crickets...fuck those.

How do you feel about robots?

They’re cool! you gotta make sure your coding is solid though, or you might have some issues.

How many caps do you have on you right now?

Uhhh, like 2k? I tend to store the rest.

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

Nuka Cola, never had a Sunset though.

Do you do chems?

Stimpaks, Med-ex, Rad-x and Radaway, not so much the others.

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

Every day..

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

It’s hard to say because anything could mean I would never have met Mac and even though this world is...terrifying and awful..I have never loved someone the way I love Mac.. I...have no idea.

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

So far my biggest achievement is earning the pride of my Father. Something I hope to achieve? destroy the Institute, save my son and become a family with Mac and Duncan.

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

For the future, I want everyone to get to experience peace, I want the world to heal and for us to rebuild. It’s unrealistic..but I want everyone to be safe.

For me? I just want to be with Mac, be safe, both of us, Duncan and Shaun, safe and happy, always full and never wanting. I want the same for my friends and loved one. I want the same for the world.

#fallout OC #fallout 4 #fallout fanfiction prompts #annitta valence #myoc #fallout #fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction

[nicholerestrada]

Trump goes primetime – POLITICO

Editor’s Note: This edition of Morning Money is published weekdays at 8 a.m. POLITICO Pro Financial Services subscribers hold exclusive early access to the newsletter each morning at 5:15 a.m. To learn more about POLITICO Pro’s comprehensive policy intelligence coverage, policy tools and services, click here.

Trump goes primetime — President Trump pressed his case for a border wall in a nine minute Oval Office address in which he spoke of a “crisis of the soul” at the southern border and made a series of factually inaccurate or misleading statements.

Story Continued Below

House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer offered the Democratic response in which they rejected Trump’s request for $5.7 billion in border wall funding. The dueling addresses, both of which were pretty low energy, are not likely to change the shutdown dynamics. The White House wants a bump in public support for a wall but it would be surprising if that materializes.

Republicans on the Hill realize that once workers start missing paychecks the shutdown will become even more untenable. So they are increasingly supportive of Trump declaring a national emergency at the border, though that would come with significant legal issues.

The good news on jobs – “Those who thought that the job market was at full capacity a year or more ago, and a lot of prominent people thought that, I think the evidence is they were wrong,” Jared Bernstein, former chief economist to Vice President Joe Biden, said on the latest edition of the POLITICO Money podcast.

What happened to Nellie Liang? — MM is told that Nellie Liang told the White House she didn’t want to move forward with her Fed nomination because it was completely unclear when she might get a vote and in the meantime she could not push forward with other work including research and speaking engagements. More on Liang below.

** A message from H&R Block: We’re shaking up the tax prep industry by becoming the only national brand to offer upfront, transparent pricing. We’re always working to innovate on behalf of our clients — to provide the best tax services and quality financial products that meet our clients’ needs, giving them confidence and financial flexibility. Learn more. **

GOOD WEDNESDAY MORNING — Greetings from Park City, Utah where MM is sadly working, not skiing. Email me at [email protected] and follow me on Twitter @morningmoneyben. Email Aubree Eliza Weaver at [email protected] and follow her on Twitter @AubreeEWeaver.

THIS MORNING ON POLITICO PRO FINANCIAL SERVICES — Katy O’Donnell on mortgage lenders and financial institutions’ efforts to help federal employees pay their bills amid the ongoing government shutdown. To get Morning Money every day before 6 a.m., please contact Pro Services at [phone] or [email protected].

Trump attends a Senate GOP lunch on the HIll … Congressional leadership heads back to the White House at 3:00 p.m. for another round of shutdown talks as TSA agents threaten to quit if they don’t get paid on Friday … FOMC minutes at 2:00 p.m.

MORE ON NELLIE LIANG — The biggest underlying problem, MM hears, is that the Fed still has frosty relationships with Senate Republicans who are suspect of pretty much anyone who comes out of the institution, as Liang does. The open Fed seats are not an especially high priority right now. The administration is more focused on getting Mark Calabria confirmed as the next FHFA director.

Counter-intuitive take on Liang — Via Cowen’s Jaret Seiberg: “Liang is a systemic risk expert whom we believe would have supported the Fed’s deregulatory approach. Risk now is [Trump] picks an interest rate dove who may be even tougher on big banks

More from the pod — We also spoke with Pat St. Claire, a journalist in Atlanta, who is among those who had given up on finding a full-time job after getting laid off by CNN in 2013. “It was really discouraging, quite honestly,” St. Claire said. “I was applying to maybe two jobs a week or so, maybe two or three jobs, because I would really take my time and try to craft letters, and nothing, I got no bites at all.”

Bernstein on Biden — Jared Bernstein on his former boss: “I think any cognizant, plugged-in reader of the newspaper would recognize that he’s definitely leaning in. I think it’s a decision he hasn’t quite made yet.”

“A lot of Democrats are asking themselves, ‘Who can beat Trump?’” And a lot of people think that Biden can do that. … A lot of people come up to me and say, ‘Can you please tell Joe Biden to run for president?’ And they don’t say that about anybody else.”

Chamber warns on shutdown — Fairly significant moment on Tuesday when the U.S. Chamber of Commerce warned that the shutdown is “is harming the American people, the business community, and the economy.”

And the hurt is growing— Our Caitlin Emma leads the roundup of all the ways the shutdown is screwing stuff up: “With the partial government shutdown lurching into its third week, thousands of federal employees are applying for unemployment benefits and the Trump administration is scrambling.

“Acting White House budget director Russ Vought said Monday that tax refunds won’t be delayed — heading off the Treasury Department, which had been trying to figure out if that’s even legally possible. But a Department of Homeland Security spokesperson confirmed that Tuesday is the last day to process federal paychecks — essentially guaranteeing no pay for employees there on Friday without an immediate spending deal.”

China talks progress — Remember when we said Trump was eager to get a China deal to calm rocky markets? And that he was likely to tweet positive things about talks going on this week in Beijing? Well, here he was, right on schedule on Tuesday: “Talks with China are going very well!”

The Dow, S&P and Nasdaq all closed up another 1 percent or so on Tuesday. These things are directly connected and they continue to point to some kind of agreement with China before April 1, no matter what the hawks say.

SHUTDOWN HITS HOUSING MARKET — Our Katy O’Donnell: “The government shutdown is rattling the housing market, according to two new industry reports. The roughly 800,000 unpaid federal employees owe $438 million in mortgage or rent payments this month, according to a report from Zillow” More for Pros.

FOOD STAMPS WILL CONTINUE — Our Helena Bottemiller Evich: “Trump administration officials said Tuesday that the Agriculture Department will be able to pay out food stamp benefits for the entire month of February — tamping down fears that the partial government shutdown could have resulted in rationing or halting of benefits.”

SEC FACES ‘GAG ORDER’ LAWSUIT — Via Patrick Temple-West: The conservative-leaning Institute for Justice will represent the Cato Institute in a lawsuit to be filed Wednesday that challenges the constitutionality of the SEC’s gag-order policy, which has been criticized for preventing people from talking about their enforcement settlements with the agency.

STOCKS RISE AGAIN — AP’s Marley Jay: “Stocks climbed for the third day in a row Tuesday as the latest round of trade talks between Washington and Beijing continued. It’s the longest winning streak for U.S. indexes since late November. …

“An agreement between the two biggest economic powers in the world could remove a major obstacle to global economic growth, and many of the biggest gains Tuesday went to companies that usually do better in times of faster growth, including internet, technology and industrial stocks. Oil prices also kept rallying.” Read more.

And Wall Street has Apple, Facebook to thank — Reuters’ Noel Randewich: “The S&P 500 jumped to a three-week high on Tuesday, led by Apple, Amazon, Facebook and industrial shares on bets that the United States and China would strike a deal to end their trade war.” Read more.

How do American stocks tie to the rest of the world? — WSJ’s James Mackintosh: “The volatility crash of February 2018 hit the U.S. and other developed markets equally, too. But from mid-May until the September peak American exceptionalism kicked in: the S&P jumped 7.3 percent to a new high, while the rest fell 3.2 percent. The U.S. economy was boosted by tax cuts while Europe fought over Italy, car makers in Germany and Japan struggled and China suffered from the trade fight.” Read more.

WORLD BANK CUTS GROWTH FORECASTS — AP’s Paul Wiseman: “The World Bank is downgrading its outlook for the global economy this year, citing rising trade tension, weakening manufacturing activity and growing financial stress in emerging-market countries.

“In a report titled ‘Darkening Skies,’ the anti-poverty agency said Tuesday that it expects the world economy to grow 2.9 percent in 2019, down from the 3 percent it forecast back in June. It would be the second straight year of slowing growth: The global economy expanded 3 percent last year and 3.1 percent in 2017.” Read more.

AMEX SUSPENDS A DIRECTOR — WSJ’s AnnaMaria Andriotis: “American Express Co. suspended a director in its foreign-exchange department as part of its ongoing investigation into pricing practices in the division, according to people familiar with the matter. Foreign-exchange employees were informed last month on a company call that the director, Taylor Simonin, was suspended, the people said.” Read more.

DEUTSCHE BANK TO SLASH BONUS POOL — Bloomberg’s Steven Arons: “Deutsche Bank AG’s management board plans to cut the bonus pool by around 10 percent as the German lender juggles cost pressures while trying to retain key employees, according to people familiar with the matter.” Read more.

TRANSITIONS — Andrew Busch has left the CFTC where he was the chief market intelligence officer. He will have a consulting/speaking/research business on the global economic landscape, challenges for future growth and how tech is shaping the economy and the markets.

** A message from H&R Block: Unlike other tax companies, we think clients should know the price of service before they begin filing — in person or online. This represents an important shift in the tax industry, and a significant improvement in the current experience for consumers. But we also know life doesn’t stop at the end of tax season — in addition to our tax preparation services, we offer clients access to a variety of quality financial products. These products meet our clients’ needs, giving them greater financial flexibility at tax time and throughout the year, with the confidence of H&R Block behind them. Learn more. **

Source link

Source: https://hashtaghighways.com/2019/01/10/trump-goes-primetime-politico/

from Garko Media https://garkomedia1.wordpress.com/2019/01/10/trump-goes-primetime-politico/

[michaeljtraylor]

Trump goes primetime – POLITICO

Editor’s Note: This edition of Morning Money is published weekdays at 8 a.m. POLITICO Pro Financial Services subscribers hold exclusive early access to the newsletter each morning at 5:15 a.m. To learn more about POLITICO Pro’s comprehensive policy intelligence coverage, policy tools and services, click here.

Trump goes primetime — President Trump pressed his case for a border wall in a nine minute Oval Office address in which he spoke of a “crisis of the soul” at the southern border and made a series of factually inaccurate or misleading statements.

Story Continued Below

House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer offered the Democratic response in which they rejected Trump’s request for $5.7 billion in border wall funding. The dueling addresses, both of which were pretty low energy, are not likely to change the shutdown dynamics. The White House wants a bump in public support for a wall but it would be surprising if that materializes.

Republicans on the Hill realize that once workers start missing paychecks the shutdown will become even more untenable. So they are increasingly supportive of Trump declaring a national emergency at the border, though that would come with significant legal issues.

The good news on jobs – “Those who thought that the job market was at full capacity a year or more ago, and a lot of prominent people thought that, I think the evidence is they were wrong,” Jared Bernstein, former chief economist to Vice President Joe Biden, said on the latest edition of the POLITICO Money podcast.

What happened to Nellie Liang? — MM is told that Nellie Liang told the White House she didn’t want to move forward with her Fed nomination because it was completely unclear when she might get a vote and in the meantime she could not push forward with other work including research and speaking engagements. More on Liang below.

** A message from H&R Block: We’re shaking up the tax prep industry by becoming the only national brand to offer upfront, transparent pricing. We’re always working to innovate on behalf of our clients — to provide the best tax services and quality financial products that meet our clients’ needs, giving them confidence and financial flexibility. Learn more. **

GOOD WEDNESDAY MORNING — Greetings from Park City, Utah where MM is sadly working, not skiing. Email me at [email protected] and follow me on Twitter @morningmoneyben. Email Aubree Eliza Weaver at [email protected] and follow her on Twitter @AubreeEWeaver.

THIS MORNING ON POLITICO PRO FINANCIAL SERVICES — Katy O’Donnell on mortgage lenders and financial institutions’ efforts to help federal employees pay their bills amid the ongoing government shutdown. To get Morning Money every day before 6 a.m., please contact Pro Services at [phone] or [email protected].

Trump attends a Senate GOP lunch on the HIll … Congressional leadership heads back to the White House at 3:00 p.m. for another round of shutdown talks as TSA agents threaten to quit if they don’t get paid on Friday … FOMC minutes at 2:00 p.m.

MORE ON NELLIE LIANG — The biggest underlying problem, MM hears, is that the Fed still has frosty relationships with Senate Republicans who are suspect of pretty much anyone who comes out of the institution, as Liang does. The open Fed seats are not an especially high priority right now. The administration is more focused on getting Mark Calabria confirmed as the next FHFA director.

Counter-intuitive take on Liang — Via Cowen’s Jaret Seiberg: “Liang is a systemic risk expert whom we believe would have supported the Fed’s deregulatory approach. Risk now is [Trump] picks an interest rate dove who may be even tougher on big banks

More from the pod — We also spoke with Pat St. Claire, a journalist in Atlanta, who is among those who had given up on finding a full-time job after getting laid off by CNN in 2013. “It was really discouraging, quite honestly,” St. Claire said. “I was applying to maybe two jobs a week or so, maybe two or three jobs, because I would really take my time and try to craft letters, and nothing, I got no bites at all.”

Bernstein on Biden — Jared Bernstein on his former boss: “I think any cognizant, plugged-in reader of the newspaper would recognize that he’s definitely leaning in. I think it’s a decision he hasn’t quite made yet.”

“A lot of Democrats are asking themselves, ‘Who can beat Trump?’” And a lot of people think that Biden can do that. … A lot of people come up to me and say, ‘Can you please tell Joe Biden to run for president?’ And they don’t say that about anybody else.”

Chamber warns on shutdown — Fairly significant moment on Tuesday when the U.S. Chamber of Commerce warned that the shutdown is “is harming the American people, the business community, and the economy.”

And the hurt is growing— Our Caitlin Emma leads the roundup of all the ways the shutdown is screwing stuff up: “With the partial government shutdown lurching into its third week, thousands of federal employees are applying for unemployment benefits and the Trump administration is scrambling.

“Acting White House budget director Russ Vought said Monday that tax refunds won’t be delayed — heading off the Treasury Department, which had been trying to figure out if that’s even legally possible. But a Department of Homeland Security spokesperson confirmed that Tuesday is the last day to process federal paychecks — essentially guaranteeing no pay for employees there on Friday without an immediate spending deal.”

China talks progress — Remember when we said Trump was eager to get a China deal to calm rocky markets? And that he was likely to tweet positive things about talks going on this week in Beijing? Well, here he was, right on schedule on Tuesday: “Talks with China are going very well!”

The Dow, S&P and Nasdaq all closed up another 1 percent or so on Tuesday. These things are directly connected and they continue to point to some kind of agreement with China before April 1, no matter what the hawks say.

SHUTDOWN HITS HOUSING MARKET — Our Katy O’Donnell: “The government shutdown is rattling the housing market, according to two new industry reports. The roughly 800,000 unpaid federal employees owe $438 million in mortgage or rent payments this month, according to a report from Zillow” More for Pros.

FOOD STAMPS WILL CONTINUE — Our Helena Bottemiller Evich: “Trump administration officials said Tuesday that the Agriculture Department will be able to pay out food stamp benefits for the entire month of February — tamping down fears that the partial government shutdown could have resulted in rationing or halting of benefits.”

SEC FACES ‘GAG ORDER’ LAWSUIT — Via Patrick Temple-West: The conservative-leaning Institute for Justice will represent the Cato Institute in a lawsuit to be filed Wednesday that challenges the constitutionality of the SEC’s gag-order policy, which has been criticized for preventing people from talking about their enforcement settlements with the agency.

STOCKS RISE AGAIN — AP’s Marley Jay: “Stocks climbed for the third day in a row Tuesday as the latest round of trade talks between Washington and Beijing continued. It’s the longest winning streak for U.S. indexes since late November. …

“An agreement between the two biggest economic powers in the world could remove a major obstacle to global economic growth, and many of the biggest gains Tuesday went to companies that usually do better in times of faster growth, including internet, technology and industrial stocks. Oil prices also kept rallying.” Read more.

And Wall Street has Apple, Facebook to thank — Reuters’ Noel Randewich: “The S&P 500 jumped to a three-week high on Tuesday, led by Apple, Amazon, Facebook and industrial shares on bets that the United States and China would strike a deal to end their trade war.” Read more.

How do American stocks tie to the rest of the world? — WSJ’s James Mackintosh: “The volatility crash of February 2018 hit the U.S. and other developed markets equally, too. But from mid-May until the September peak American exceptionalism kicked in: the S&P jumped 7.3 percent to a new high, while the rest fell 3.2 percent. The U.S. economy was boosted by tax cuts while Europe fought over Italy, car makers in Germany and Japan struggled and China suffered from the trade fight.” Read more.

WORLD BANK CUTS GROWTH FORECASTS — AP’s Paul Wiseman: “The World Bank is downgrading its outlook for the global economy this year, citing rising trade tension, weakening manufacturing activity and growing financial stress in emerging-market countries.

“In a report titled ‘Darkening Skies,’ the anti-poverty agency said Tuesday that it expects the world economy to grow 2.9 percent in 2019, down from the 3 percent it forecast back in June. It would be the second straight year of slowing growth: The global economy expanded 3 percent last year and 3.1 percent in 2017.” Read more.

AMEX SUSPENDS A DIRECTOR — WSJ’s AnnaMaria Andriotis: “American Express Co. suspended a director in its foreign-exchange department as part of its ongoing investigation into pricing practices in the division, according to people familiar with the matter. Foreign-exchange employees were informed last month on a company call that the director, Taylor Simonin, was suspended, the people said.” Read more.

DEUTSCHE BANK TO SLASH BONUS POOL — Bloomberg’s Steven Arons: “Deutsche Bank AG’s management board plans to cut the bonus pool by around 10 percent as the German lender juggles cost pressures while trying to retain key employees, according to people familiar with the matter.” Read more.

TRANSITIONS — Andrew Busch has left the CFTC where he was the chief market intelligence officer. He will have a consulting/speaking/research business on the global economic landscape, challenges for future growth and how tech is shaping the economy and the markets.

** A message from H&R Block: Unlike other tax companies, we think clients should know the price of service before they begin filing — in person or online. This represents an important shift in the tax industry, and a significant improvement in the current experience for consumers. But we also know life doesn’t stop at the end of tax season — in addition to our tax preparation services, we offer clients access to a variety of quality financial products. These products meet our clients’ needs, giving them greater financial flexibility at tax time and throughout the year, with the confidence of H&R Block behind them. Learn more. **

Source link

from RSSUnify feed https://hashtaghighways.com/2019/01/10/trump-goes-primetime-politico/ from Garko Media https://garkomedia1.tumblr.com/post/181891966699

[garkomedia1]

Trump goes primetime – POLITICO

Editor’s Note: This edition of Morning Money is published weekdays at 8 a.m. POLITICO Pro Financial Services subscribers hold exclusive early access to the newsletter each morning at 5:15 a.m. To learn more about POLITICO Pro’s comprehensive policy intelligence coverage, policy tools and services, click here.

Trump goes primetime — President Trump pressed his case for a border wall in a nine minute Oval Office address in which he spoke of a “crisis of the soul” at the southern border and made a series of factually inaccurate or misleading statements.

Story Continued Below

House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer offered the Democratic response in which they rejected Trump’s request for $5.7 billion in border wall funding. The dueling addresses, both of which were pretty low energy, are not likely to change the shutdown dynamics. The White House wants a bump in public support for a wall but it would be surprising if that materializes.

Republicans on the Hill realize that once workers start missing paychecks the shutdown will become even more untenable. So they are increasingly supportive of Trump declaring a national emergency at the border, though that would come with significant legal issues.

The good news on jobs – “Those who thought that the job market was at full capacity a year or more ago, and a lot of prominent people thought that, I think the evidence is they were wrong,” Jared Bernstein, former chief economist to Vice President Joe Biden, said on the latest edition of the POLITICO Money podcast.

What happened to Nellie Liang? — MM is told that Nellie Liang told the White House she didn’t want to move forward with her Fed nomination because it was completely unclear when she might get a vote and in the meantime she could not push forward with other work including research and speaking engagements. More on Liang below.

** A message from H&R Block: We’re shaking up the tax prep industry by becoming the only national brand to offer upfront, transparent pricing. We’re always working to innovate on behalf of our clients — to provide the best tax services and quality financial products that meet our clients’ needs, giving them confidence and financial flexibility. Learn more. **

GOOD WEDNESDAY MORNING — Greetings from Park City, Utah where MM is sadly working, not skiing. Email me at [email protected] and follow me on Twitter @morningmoneyben. Email Aubree Eliza Weaver at [email protected] and follow her on Twitter @AubreeEWeaver.

THIS MORNING ON POLITICO PRO FINANCIAL SERVICES — Katy O’Donnell on mortgage lenders and financial institutions’ efforts to help federal employees pay their bills amid the ongoing government shutdown. To get Morning Money every day before 6 a.m., please contact Pro Services at [phone] or [email protected].

Trump attends a Senate GOP lunch on the HIll … Congressional leadership heads back to the White House at 3:00 p.m. for another round of shutdown talks as TSA agents threaten to quit if they don’t get paid on Friday … FOMC minutes at 2:00 p.m.

MORE ON NELLIE LIANG — The biggest underlying problem, MM hears, is that the Fed still has frosty relationships with Senate Republicans who are suspect of pretty much anyone who comes out of the institution, as Liang does. The open Fed seats are not an especially high priority right now. The administration is more focused on getting Mark Calabria confirmed as the next FHFA director.

Counter-intuitive take on Liang — Via Cowen’s Jaret Seiberg: “Liang is a systemic risk expert whom we believe would have supported the Fed’s deregulatory approach. Risk now is [Trump] picks an interest rate dove who may be even tougher on big banks

More from the pod — We also spoke with Pat St. Claire, a journalist in Atlanta, who is among those who had given up on finding a full-time job after getting laid off by CNN in 2013. “It was really discouraging, quite honestly,” St. Claire said. “I was applying to maybe two jobs a week or so, maybe two or three jobs, because I would really take my time and try to craft letters, and nothing, I got no bites at all.”

Bernstein on Biden — Jared Bernstein on his former boss: “I think any cognizant, plugged-in reader of the newspaper would recognize that he’s definitely leaning in. I think it’s a decision he hasn’t quite made yet.”

“A lot of Democrats are asking themselves, ‘Who can beat Trump?’” And a lot of people think that Biden can do that. … A lot of people come up to me and say, ‘Can you please tell Joe Biden to run for president?’ And they don’t say that about anybody else.”

Chamber warns on shutdown — Fairly significant moment on Tuesday when the U.S. Chamber of Commerce warned that the shutdown is “is harming the American people, the business community, and the economy.”

And the hurt is growing— Our Caitlin Emma leads the roundup of all the ways the shutdown is screwing stuff up: “With the partial government shutdown lurching into its third week, thousands of federal employees are applying for unemployment benefits and the Trump administration is scrambling.

“Acting White House budget director Russ Vought said Monday that tax refunds won’t be delayed — heading off the Treasury Department, which had been trying to figure out if that’s even legally possible. But a Department of Homeland Security spokesperson confirmed that Tuesday is the last day to process federal paychecks — essentially guaranteeing no pay for employees there on Friday without an immediate spending deal.”

China talks progress — Remember when we said Trump was eager to get a China deal to calm rocky markets? And that he was likely to tweet positive things about talks going on this week in Beijing? Well, here he was, right on schedule on Tuesday: “Talks with China are going very well!”

The Dow, S&P and Nasdaq all closed up another 1 percent or so on Tuesday. These things are directly connected and they continue to point to some kind of agreement with China before April 1, no matter what the hawks say.

SHUTDOWN HITS HOUSING MARKET — Our Katy O’Donnell: “The government shutdown is rattling the housing market, according to two new industry reports. The roughly 800,000 unpaid federal employees owe $438 million in mortgage or rent payments this month, according to a report from Zillow” More for Pros.

FOOD STAMPS WILL CONTINUE — Our Helena Bottemiller Evich: “Trump administration officials said Tuesday that the Agriculture Department will be able to pay out food stamp benefits for the entire month of February — tamping down fears that the partial government shutdown could have resulted in rationing or halting of benefits.”

SEC FACES ‘GAG ORDER’ LAWSUIT — Via Patrick Temple-West: The conservative-leaning Institute for Justice will represent the Cato Institute in a lawsuit to be filed Wednesday that challenges the constitutionality of the SEC’s gag-order policy, which has been criticized for preventing people from talking about their enforcement settlements with the agency.

STOCKS RISE AGAIN — AP’s Marley Jay: “Stocks climbed for the third day in a row Tuesday as the latest round of trade talks between Washington and Beijing continued. It’s the longest winning streak for U.S. indexes since late November. …

“An agreement between the two biggest economic powers in the world could remove a major obstacle to global economic growth, and many of the biggest gains Tuesday went to companies that usually do better in times of faster growth, including internet, technology and industrial stocks. Oil prices also kept rallying.” Read more.

And Wall Street has Apple, Facebook to thank — Reuters’ Noel Randewich: “The S&P 500 jumped to a three-week high on Tuesday, led by Apple, Amazon, Facebook and industrial shares on bets that the United States and China would strike a deal to end their trade war.” Read more.

How do American stocks tie to the rest of the world? — WSJ’s James Mackintosh: “The volatility crash of February 2018 hit the U.S. and other developed markets equally, too. But from mid-May until the September peak American exceptionalism kicked in: the S&P jumped 7.3 percent to a new high, while the rest fell 3.2 percent. The U.S. economy was boosted by tax cuts while Europe fought over Italy, car makers in Germany and Japan struggled and China suffered from the trade fight.” Read more.

WORLD BANK CUTS GROWTH FORECASTS — AP’s Paul Wiseman: “The World Bank is downgrading its outlook for the global economy this year, citing rising trade tension, weakening manufacturing activity and growing financial stress in emerging-market countries.

“In a report titled ‘Darkening Skies,’ the anti-poverty agency said Tuesday that it expects the world economy to grow 2.9 percent in 2019, down from the 3 percent it forecast back in June. It would be the second straight year of slowing growth: The global economy expanded 3 percent last year and 3.1 percent in 2017.” Read more.

AMEX SUSPENDS A DIRECTOR — WSJ’s AnnaMaria Andriotis: “American Express Co. suspended a director in its foreign-exchange department as part of its ongoing investigation into pricing practices in the division, according to people familiar with the matter. Foreign-exchange employees were informed last month on a company call that the director, Taylor Simonin, was suspended, the people said.” Read more.

DEUTSCHE BANK TO SLASH BONUS POOL — Bloomberg’s Steven Arons: “Deutsche Bank AG’s management board plans to cut the bonus pool by around 10 percent as the German lender juggles cost pressures while trying to retain key employees, according to people familiar with the matter.” Read more.

TRANSITIONS — Andrew Busch has left the CFTC where he was the chief market intelligence officer. He will have a consulting/speaking/research business on the global economic landscape, challenges for future growth and how tech is shaping the economy and the markets.

** A message from H&R Block: Unlike other tax companies, we think clients should know the price of service before they begin filing — in person or online. This represents an important shift in the tax industry, and a significant improvement in the current experience for consumers. But we also know life doesn’t stop at the end of tax season — in addition to our tax preparation services, we offer clients access to a variety of quality financial products. These products meet our clients’ needs, giving them greater financial flexibility at tax time and throughout the year, with the confidence of H&R Block behind them. Learn more. **

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from RSSUnify feed https://hashtaghighways.com/2019/01/10/trump-goes-primetime-politico/

[jakehglover]

How Activating Your Body's Cell Repair Processes Can Improve Your Health and Well-Being

By Dr. Mercola

Naomi Whittel is the former CEO of Twinlab and has written an interesting book about how to achieve radiant health by activating your body's natural autophagy processes. In "Glow 15: A Science-Based Plan to Lose Weight, Revitalize Your Skin, and Invigorate Your Life," she shares a number of valuable strategies for doing this naturally. Her deep-rooted interest in healthy living was an outgrowth of her lifelong struggle with eczema, an autoimmune deficiency.

"The inflammatory process just ravaged my body," she says. "My skin would bleed, it would pus. My parents were so conscious, they would even be aware of the kinds of material I would wear because our skin needs to breathe — it's our largest organ — and the foods that I ate. I was born on a biodynamic farm, and yet this autoimmune disorder and so many [other health problems] that I developed over time controlled my life.

So, I have always been trained to eat specific foods and drink certain types of water. My parents never let me have fluoridated water. I was never vaccinated. So much thought went into what I was putting on and into my body, and yet I couldn't squelch the inflammation. When I was in my midteens, I would constantly cover myself with long sleeves, kind of like what I'm doing today. But it wasn't for the same reasons.

I would cover myself because I was so ashamed of what I really looked like. It was the spring dance, and there was a boy that I really wanted to go to the spring dance with. My mother said to me at that time, 'You know, you shouldn't always cover yourself.

You have a lot of friends. You can have some more self-confidence.' I listened to her, and I wore short sleeves and shorts. My skin was exposed, and he got a glimpse of me, and he didn't invite me. That was a defining moment, because I had been so rejected by the way I looked."

From Natural to Conventional and Back

Following that spring dance rejection, Whittel decided to try the conventional route for a change. For a time, she used steroids to control her eczema, but the side effects prompted her to return to her all-natural roots. In her early 20s, she was able to eliminate about 95 percent of her eczema using a combination of Chinese herbs, acupuncture and fasting to detox.

Alas, when she was preparing for pregnancy a few years later, she discovered she had heavy metal toxicity, which her doctor attributed to the Chinese herbs she had taken, due to the soil they were grown in and the way they were processed.

"I had poisoned my body through these herbs that had been so therapeutic," she says. "That was the other defining moment for me. I decided I needed to know, from that moment forward, exactly where things came from. So, I started the process of always going to the source … Ultimately, I built a company called Reserveage, where we aimed to find where things come from.

I started with the polyphenols, the antioxidants, that come from the red wine grape, and I searched all over the world for the grapes that had the highest levels of these different polyphenols, including resveratrol … I ultimately landed in Bordeaux, where the organic and biodynamic vineyards are so rich in these powerful nutrients.

I was in Calabria, Italy, when I first started to really learn about the citrus bergamot fruit. The researchers over there were teaching me about drinking whole citrus bergamot tea. The lead researcher, Dr. Elzbieta Janda, was drinking four or five cups of this every day, and while I was there, I was doing that with her. I asked her, 'Why?' … She said to me, 'I use it to activate my autophagy.' That was the first time I had heard the word."

"Auto" in Greek means "self," and "phagy" means "to eat," so autophagy refers to a self-eating process in which your body digests damaged cells. It's basically a cleaning-out process that encourages the proliferation of new, healthy cells. Reserveage, which was later sold to Twinlab, was founded on the principle that each and every ingredient is carefully sourced and processed in such a way to ensure the highest quality and purity possible.

This includes doing soil testing and working with the farmers and middlemen to understand and clean up each step of the process from farm to bottle. Unfortunately, few companies actually invest the time and resources necessary to do this. "It surprises me, because it's a disconnect," Whittel says. "Ultimately, there's so many things that can go wrong along the way."

Fish Oil's Dirty Little Secret

Whittel recently worked with Jeff Bland, Ph.D., on a trip to Alaska to investigate the manufacturing of cod liver oil. "For me personally, fish oil is an important part of my health. Because of my autoimmune disorders, I grew up drinking a little shot every morning of cod liver oil … But when I built my company, Reserveage, I never could find a source other than krill, that I was comfortable bringing out into the market," she says. What's the problem with most fish oil? Whittel explains:

"What happens is the fish are caught in large nets. Even if you think the fish oil is coming from Norway or Europe, it's caught in Central and South America in these large nets. The fish are then brought onto and thrown into the bottom of the boat … [where] they go completely rancid. They're just left there. By the time they get to Europe, the guts are so rancid that in order to get the omega-3s out, they have to go through a process of extracting these poisons and this rancidity.

[In the end], you're left with something that has none of the cofactors. It's been so heavily contaminated to clean out the rancidity that if you want to get any of the benefits of the vitamin A or vitamin D, they have to be added back. So, there's a huge disconnect … When I learned about this, it just ruined my relationship to fish oils."

Finding Pure Cod Liver Oil

Bland told her he'd partnered with David Little, an engineer and fisherman who owns six large fishing boats in Alaska. Little built and implemented a flash freeze process on his boats. As soon as the cod are caught, they're flash frozen. The fish are sold to the Japanese, but they weren't doing anything with the livers and guts of the fish, which is where the fish oils are extracted from. So, Bland and Little partnered up to extract the fish oils from the fish guts, while the rest of the fish gets shipped off to Japan.

The beauty of this process is that it preserves the specialized pro-resolving mediators (SPMs) in the oil — many of which are powerful anti-inflammatory components — along with the vitamin A and D. "I was able to literally take the oil right out of the processing equipment and drink it, right there in the factory," Whittel says. "It smells fresh, and it [tastes] good. That's why I, for the first time in my career, felt confident enough to bring a cod liver oil into the market … There's nothing like it, from a cod liver perspective, out there."

This story is just one cautionary story of many, showing you really need to do your homework when it comes to food and supplements. Whittel estimates about 98 percent of the omega-3 products on the market are inferior due to the way the fish are caught and processed.

Aside from this Twinlab cod liver oil, krill is another excellent source of marine-based omega-3 fats. Contrary to cod, krill are also a far more sustainable source of these valuable oils. You can learn more about the safeguards in place to ensure the sustainability of krill in this previous krill article.

The Importance of Cyclical Autophagy

Like myself, Whittel also reached the conclusion that it is  important to cycle many lifestyle choices to improve your health. For her, it began with the intuitive understanding that cells are either building or detoxing, and each phase has its own requirements. Fasting, meaning abstaining from food altogether, turned out to be a crucial component that ultimately allowed her to control the inflammation in her body, and she's been doing cyclical fasting for nearly 25 years.

Again, one of the things fasting does is activate autophagy, your body's cleanout process that cleanses and detoxifies the cell and recycles the parts of the organelles that are no longer needed, so that your cells behave more youthfully. But autophagy cannot remain continuously activated all the time. You also need to allow the cells to rebuild and rejuvenate, which occurs during the refeeding phase.

In her search for experts on autophagy, Whittel came across the work of Dr. Richard Wang, a dermatologist and autophagy expert, Dr. Beth Levine, whose focus is on exercise, and William A. Dunn, Ph.D., at the University of Florida, who has been researching autophagy for 30 years, among others. She then put together a protocol to build up her own health.

" … David Sinclair at Harvard … was sharing with me a lot of the insights around how we can reduce the impact of these accelerated agers. When you look at all the ways that we age — the effects of the DNA impact, the inflammation, the telomere shortening, all of these things — autophagy and the way that autophagy slows down as we age due to these accelerated agers, is at the foundation of the way we age.

So being able to activate [autophagy], and then also deactivate it, is something that is fundamental to the aging process. 'Glow15' is that protocol. What was so fascinating, when I first did it on myself, was that my energy skyrocketed. I increased my lean muscle mass and reduced my body mass index by about 6 percent, so I went from 24 to 18 percent [body fat].

I wasn't doing anything other than activating my autophagy. My energy, my mental focus, my sleep improved, and I just felt so much better. And I looked younger, for sure, so everyone in my world said, 'Hey, what are you doing?' Then I started to try it on my friends and family. Then some of my friends at Jacksonville University, some of the researchers there, said, 'Why don't we create a lifestyle study?'

So, we took a group of 35 participants, and we put them through this lifestyle. Every single participant achieved results … in 15 days, and that's how the book got the name 'Glow15.' They lost weight, they reduced their fine lines and wrinkles … they got off medications. It was truly remarkable, the benefits. So that's how the protocol was developed."

How to Activate Autophagy

So just how do you go about activating your body's autophagy mechanism? Here's a summary of four of the 11 strategies detailed in her book:

1. Intermittent fasting coupled with protein cycling (IFPC) — Intermittent fasting every other day (16 hours of not eating, which is the time needed to activate autophagy, and eight hours of scheduled eating). On days when you're not doing the intermittent fasting, eat the regular amount of protein you would normally consume, and on your intermittent fasting day, cut protein to about 5 percent of your calories for the day.

"So, for somebody like me who would normally eat about 45 to 50 grams of protein … [on low protein days] I'll take about 5 percent of my overall caloric intake, which is about 25 grams of protein," Whittel explains.

2. Timing of nutrients — Eat fats first and carbohydrates last, whether you're intermittently fasting or not.

"On a low [protein] day, when you've done an intermittent fast, your first meal will be about fat, and fat first. Then at the end of the day, you'll have carbohydrates, and we talk about the quality carbohydrates that we need for health.

Also, when you're eating carbs later on in the day, in the evening as your last meal, you're getting all of the benefits, from recovery to helping you relax and get ready to go to sleep. So, fat first and carbs last is my second principle," Whittel says.

3. Cyclical exercise — Every other day, do 30 minutes of high-intensity interval training or resistance training. "It could be as simple as walking faster for a minute and then slowing down, and doing that back and forth for 30 minutes. Resistance training could even be doing yoga," she says. "It's that acute stress, that good stress, that has a beneficial impact on autophagy."

4. Eat more autophagy-activating foods — Whittel includes 140 different types of foods that help activate autophagy — such as citrus bergamot tea, green tea and turmeric — and different ones are recommended depending on whether you're doing intermittent fasting and low protein that day or not. For example, on a fasting, low-protein day, she recommends removing the egg white (the high-protein part) when eating eggs. On nonfasting, high-protein days, eat both the egg white and the yolk.

Cyclical Autophagy Activation Is Crucial for Optimal Health and Longevity

"In 2016, the Nobel Prize in medicine was given to the Japanese biologist Yoshinori Ohsumi for his research around autophagy … It's going to be such a big part of our health and well-being over the next decade, and now the research is really starting to come together," she says. Her book is an outgrowth of diving into the available research, so to learn more about autophagy and how to activate this rejuvenating process, be sure to pick up a copy of "Glow15."

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader https://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/06/17/how-to-activate-autophagy.aspx