#to live in the nicest unit in the building and he just fixes everything as soon as he texts him

[angel-deux-writes]

I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this On Here, but I really want to tell the story of the guy who put in my kitchen floors because it was terrifying

im putting it under a cut bc it’s probably not that long, but who knows.

(scrolled back up after i actually wrote it to confirm that it is in fact long)

Some backstory is that I was INCREDIBLY lucky and got my condo very cheap in a neighborhood I already knew I loved. The other unit I’d looked at was a full 30k over my budget, but this one was perfect because the owner hadn’t updated ANYTHING since it was built in 1985, so it was just...awful. Awful rugs, awful floors, awful walls. My dad is like...the dad who loves a project, so he was all “I can fix all of this except the floors!!! it’ll be great!!”, so I bought it. We hired a local company to do the floors, not wanting to go to Home Depot or whatever (Which i still support in theory, just......not this company lmao). Everything except the kitchen and bathroom was originally carpet. Hallways, stairs, every single room. And it was cheap industrial carpet, too. Like the kind in office buildings. The dude who did the carpet was like “what the fuck were they thinking???” 

Also, one of the carpets had a truly upsetting rusty stain, so. My guest bedroom might be haunted. 

Anyway, the carpet guy was great. He was the owner of the company, and he was older and very kind. I had my mom come over with me when he was doing the carpets, but I didn’t even need her there. He was cool. His son was in charge of the hardwood portion (I say “hardwood”. I mean, like, the cheapest laminate while still looking nice lmao). He was less great. He had a team of like 3 dudes and 1 lady who would show up and work, doing my office/dining room and upstairs hallway. I know carpet is easier, but the carpet guy took one day, and these guys took a week and a half. They messed up a few times, and it was kind of stressful, but overall it was okay. They had to redo all the subfloors, because condos built in 1985 were almost universally built in buckwild, impossible-to-explain ways, so it took forever. The hardwood guys were loud as hell, but they were nice! 

At one point, one of the nicest guys accidentally broke a few of my kitchen tiles while putting in the transition from the wood to the tile. I was cool with it, tbh, but he offered a discount on a new kitchen floor because, shocker, the subfloor under the broken tile was really jacked up, and it wouldn’t be as simple as taking a tile from under the fridge and replacing it. I was like, okay, cool! We set it up. 

I did not hear from them for four months. Which, I get it. It was a discounted job, so obviously they wanted to do full-price jobs first. I have no problem with that. The same hardwood guys came back to do the subfloor, and then they were like “okay [the owner’s son] will contact you about the tiles. That took about a week. Finally, I got a date. It was a Friday, a day when my sister was already working from home, so she was like “yeah, I can handle it.” She works in interior design, so she’s used to dealing with construction people, and she was REALLY useful when it came to talking down the son of the owner, who was like...every bad stereotype about contractors meshed with a used car salesman. 

So I’m at work the day the tiling is supposed happen. My sister is fine at first, texting me about how the son showed up with one single guy, and then left, so it was only the single guy working. She was annoyed like “it’s supposed to take one day, right? That’s what they said? There’s no way he’s finishing at this pace. Why are they making this guy do the whole thing by himself?”. She called him “nice, kind of cute, but a very slow worker”. I was like ‘well, if they have to come back tomorrow, whatever, that’s fine’.”

Around 10:30 she starts texting me increasingly insane shit. 

“He’s talking to himself downstairs? Maybe he’s on the phone”. 

“He keeps dropping stuff and yelling SHIT really loudly.”

“Someone just showed up with a bag, and he let them in, and they chatted in the kitchen for like ten minutes, and then the person left, and they didn’t take the bag with them”. 

“He’s standing outside using the tile cutter and SCREAMING whenever it’s on.”

“He’s out in the rain and shout-singing something while he’s cutting tile”

“He is BARKING LIKE A DOG TO THE TUNE OF THE RUGRATS THEME SONG CAN YOU PLEASE COME HOME”

I’m half convinced she’s making this shit up, but she’s uncomfortable so I tell my boss what’s going on and race home. When I get there, there’s a vaguely adam driver looking guy who seems nice enough. A little startled to see me, but we make pleasant conversation, I see that he’s not very far along, and then I go upstairs to see my sister. I brought her takeout as a treat, and we sit there for a while talking about normal things. Gradually, downstairs, the dude starts talking to himself. I’m thinking that’s still not THAT weird. Then he starts singing and clapping along. Okay, a BIT weird, but not terrible. I decide to go downstairs into the living room and play some Playstation. Like, maybe he thinks we can’t hear him upstairs and he’ll be more chill when i’m down there? NOPE! HE ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT! He does the barking thing again (and it is, in fact, the rugrats theme song), he’s working at a pace of about one tile per hour, and he starts singing a song that consists only of the word “bitch” over and over again. 

I’m texting my dad, freaking out, and he tries to get in contact with the owner or his son, but nobody’s answering the phone. My other sister and her friend are on their way for game night. My sister’s boyfriend should be home soon from work, but not soon enough. It is, at this point, 7 pm. There is absolutely no chance he’s getting these tiles done today. He’s not even halfway done. My kitchen is VERY SMALL, by the way, so this reasonably could have been done in a day with two people, but I suspect that because it was a discount job, we got the discount treatment. 

My other sister and her friend show up, and the guy is perfectly pleasant and normal to them. We all go upstairs into my sister’s room, and we sit there, waiting in silence for it to start again, hoping that maybe with more people in the house, he’ll be okay. 

NOPE! He starts singing the “bitch” song again. I distinctly remember my other sister whispering “I love this song” and pretending to groove, which was kind of funny but NOT THE TIME. I’m sitting on my sister’s bed clutching a camp axe like a maniac, because I’m like “we are going to be killed by this giant kylo ren asshole”. I’m still texting my dad, who’s like “if you need me to come over, I can, i’m out of work”, but at this point it’s almost 8 and I’m also thinking about my neighbors. Like, he can’t be here at night. He just can’t. He’s so loud even just doing regular tile things! 

I muster up LITERALLY EVERY IOTA OF COURAGE THAT I HAVE, and I head downstairs. I ask him when he’s planning on wrapping up, because I know there’s no way he’s going to finish tonight. He tells me it’ll probably take about two more hours. That is 1) absolutely not true and 2) not something I’m willing to deal with because I live in a condo with neighbors on either side of me, and one of my neighbors is a truck driver who gets up at like 4 am! So I explain that my friends and I have an obligation to get to, and I would love it if we could arrange for someone to continue the work tomorrow. He’s SUPER NICE ABOUT IT and is like “oh, okay, no problem!” He leaves. Just...walks into the rain. Leaves all his tools and his tile cutter. I move it inside because it was on my front porch and it is, again, raining. 

My sister, a Nancy Drew Game fiend, starts searching the entire downstairs and eventually finds the plastic bag that someone brought him. My other sister, who is a nurse in a hospital that primarily treats overdose patients, is like “yep, that’s drug residue for sure”. I’m like, okay, so he didn’t hurt any of us, and he was nice, just....high and weird. But it’s over now, so whatever. My dad says he’ll call the owner’s son the next day, and everything’s cool. He also says that he, my mom, and my brother will all come over to watch the football game at my house the next day just to be there (which...im less than thrilled about the football part, but sure). I also beg my friend to drive up from the Cape to pick up his hat that he left at my condo over the summer just so he can chill for a few hours in the morning. 

The next day, the same guy returns, with the owner’s son this time. The owner’s son is like “why did you only get this far along?” but otherwise doesn’t really say anything. The barking guy is TOTALLY FINE, totally polite. My friend lingers as long as he can, but there’s an ice storm coming, so he peaces out eventually. I’m alone for about an hour with the guy, and nothing happens. He’s quiet, even when the owner’s son peaces for a bit. My parents show up, we watch the football game, and nothing happens. I feel like A LUNATIC, because my dad is like “he seems fine now” and I’m like NO BUT YESTERDAY WAS TERRIFYING. 

Anyway, so that’s the story. I didn’t end up saying anything to the owner’s son, but my dad reamed him out a bit for sending only one person to do a job meant for two. And now every time I drive by that business I suppress a shudder, and sometimes the barking version of the Rugrats theme song still gets stuck in my head.

#genuinely it was so so scary but he never even did anything? he was just weird #and almost definitely high #the barking thing was almost funny? like it would have been funny if he wasn't in my house

[hailcyeon]

hiraeth | 03

Pairing: Jaehwan x Reader Genre: Sci-Fi, Royal AU Word count: 2.6k Warnings: Mild cursing

To your horror, Jaehwan arrives like a knight in dark leather, huffing from having run the last block.

It's the morning Bridge shows up in front of your apartment block that you give Jaehwan a call.

“How the fuck does everyone know where I live?” you mutter to yourself, furiously shoving clothes into a small suitcase, phone in the crook of your shoulder merrily ringing away. Already dressed for work in slacks and a blouse, you hadn't anticipated your typical morning routine being interrupted by a hasty getaway. You hear a click, and then Jaehwan’s raspy sleep-addled voice.

“Hello?”

“It's me. We're leaving.” You've thrown the phone on your bed on speakerphone, rummaging around for your work laptop.

“Princess?”

You roll your eyes at his epithet. “Yeah, we gotta go.”

That seems to wake him up. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“No!” Your shout startles even yourself, but the idea of a confrontation with the man outside terrifies you. “We can meet somewhere. Do you know where Kowen Vista is?” you ask. You give him directions to a park a couple blocks away and hang up, rushing through your apartment so as to keep yourself from thinking about what you're doing.

You risk a peek out your window, where Bridge is still waiting, leaned up against the opposite apartment block. Cursing your misfortune, you hurry out your door, making a mental note to message your landlady later. You're headed out the rear exit of the building, determined to avoid a meeting with your dreaded ex. It's not to be, as a voice you're all too familiar with calls out your name.

Spinning on your heel, you turn to face Bridge. He looks heart-clenchingly the same as he did when you left, with pale eyes and dark hair that you once loved.

“You're a hard woman to track down, you know?” Still just as infuriatingly hard to read, his face betrays nothing.

“And yet here you are.” Your grip on your bags tightens, unsure of how to end this confrontation.

“Did you really throw out my scarf?” Bridge asks, his tone calculated and light. “It's been getting colder and colder.”

You swallow heavily. “I'm a big girl now, Bridge, I can take care of myself.”

He cracks a small smile. “That you can. I heard you broke Ilsung's finger.”

You grit your teeth, remembering the night in the alley. “He got handsy with me.”

“Poor kid didn't know who he was dealing with,” he says almost proudly. His gaze upon you is hungry, making your skin crawl. Bridge runs a hand through his hair with bruised knuckles, and you know poor Ilsung has more than just a broken finger.

“Are you going somewhere?” he continues, nodding toward your packed suitcase and backpack.

“Just a business trip,” you respond as evenly as you can, grip on the straps ever tighter.

He shakes his head and steps closer. “You don't travel, Birdy. Not without my knowing.”

Your heart hammers at his encroaching figure, every muscle straining not to turn tail and run. You're spared from a poorly thought out lie by a shout behind you.

“There you are!”

To your horror, Jaehwan arrives like a knight in dark leather, huffing from having run the last block. Your shock only grows as he drops a kiss on your cheek and winds an arm around your waist.

“Running late as always, sweetheart? I expected you half an hour ago!”

What.

Through your confusion and the lingering warmth on your cheek, you notice Bridge's clenched teeth as he raises his eyebrows at the newcomer.

“And you are?” he grinds out.

Jaehwan fixes him with a blinding smile and holds out a hand. “Lee Jaehwan, at your service.”

Bridge looks at the offered hand as if it's diseased. “What is this?” he directs at you.

“Um, my new boyfriend?” you offer weakly.

“Aww, she's still so shy about our relationship,” Jaehwan coos, and you kind of want to die right now. “We're taking a weekend trip to visit my parents, they're so excited to meet her!”

“Right.” Bridge's disdain almost takes a life of its own.

“Well, must be off! We're already late for the train as it is.” Jaehwan wheels you around, dragging you with him. “Very nice meeting you!” he calls back over his shoulder.

The second you round the corner from your apartment block, you spring from Jaehwan's grasp as if burned.

“Think he bought it?” he says, giving you some space.

“Absolutely not. What were you thinking?!” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down.

Jaehwan shrugs. “I was thinking he looks like the kind of guy who won't leave a girl alone unless she's attached to another guy.”

You bristle at the thought of being attached to Jaehwan, or indeed any other man.

“You probably just made him mad.” You chew on your bottom lip, thinking of all the ways this could come back to haunt you. “Bridge isn't the type to give up so easily. He found me again after all.” You glance over at Jaehwan who has been leading you toward the subway. “What happened to meeting me at the park?”

He scoffs out a laugh. “You call me out of nowhere to say we have to leave and you expect me not to investigate?”

“It's not that absurd,” you mutter, taking the stairs underground. The two of you are quickly swallowed up by the crowd of commuters traveling to work.

“You had a very sudden change of heart,” he says pointedly.

You shake your head. In truth, the question of leaving had occupied your mind since the day Hakyeon arrived. The reappearance of Bridge had only spooked you into action.

“You don't know Bridge. I will not be controlled by him again.” Your resolution is ironclad, but you wish your heart could be just as steady. You have stark memories of moving all around the city, being denied work because of Bridge's blacklist, being tailed day in and day out. The fear makes your heart waver, but the memories make your mind resolute.

“Besides,” you continue. “Hakyeon is right.”

“Is he?” Jaehwan asks, skeptical.

You nod regretfully. “I owe him.” You would not be alive were it not for your cousin, a fact that haunts you to this day.

The wait at the subway platform is short, and soon the two of you are boarded on a line heading to the main transit hub of the city. You have no idea what the plan is, but you're trusting Hakyeon to have laid everything out. Once in the city proper, you follow Jaehwan to the ticket kiosk for an international bullet train line.

You wait on a nearby bench and close your eyes briefly, exhausted from your life the past few weeks. You're used to waking early for work, but the weeks of poor sleep are taking their toll. The world moves on around you, oblivious to the chaos of your life. The Armistice megacity never truly sleeps, but morning rush hour is when it is most alive, with office workers and college kids all rushing about, coffee in hand. You're idly wondering if you should bother with caffeine yourself when you hear Jaehwan approach.

“The train leaves in half an hour. Look alive, Princess,” he says, handing you a laminated ticket and taking a seat next to you.

You examine the ticket, turning it over slowly. “Stop calling me that,” you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Jaehwan quirks an eyebrow. “Is that not what you are?”

“I haven't been a princess in a very long time.” Now that the adrenaline is wearing down, your heart feels heavy and you have anxiety writhing in your stomach again. “This is a very expensive ticket,” you say absently.

He laughs and flashes you a conspiring smirk. “I've got the royal credit card on hand. Everything is on Hakyeon, so feel free to explore how far his balance goes.”

You crack a smile at the thought of your cousin's face upon seeing the bill. The next half hour passes in a gently awkward silence, but before long you find yourself seated in one of the nicest trains you've ever been on. Jaehwan has booked a whole compartment, so you're spared the disservice of having to interact with anyone else. He excuses himself briefly to take a stroll down the corridor, allowing you to sink into the plush leather seats and close your tired eyes.

You wake to the setting sun and Jaehwan across the compartment staring at you curiously.

“Have you been watching me sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Did you know you drool in your sleep?”

You sit up with a start and rub your mouth furiously, glaring at him. A glance outside shows you're traveling on a high bridge over glittery waters. It only deepens your glare.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere over the Strait of Thule,” he says, naming a thin body of water connecting the United Northern Federation to the Tuvan Republic in the west. “You've been out almost seven hours.” Arms crossed and leaning back, Jaehwan is the picture of nonchalance.

It's more consecutive sleep than you've had in weeks, and farther away than you've traveled in years. You shouldn't be, but you're impressed by the speed of the high-tech bullet train that's already started crossing over to the next continent. Ever closer to your homecoming.

You're jolted out of your reverie by a miniature chocolate bar landing in your lap, thrown by Jaehwan.

“Hungry?” he says at your confused look, popping a chocolate of his own into his mouth.

“Please tell me there's more food on this train than your candy stash.” You look down at the offending piece of candy in disdain, but slip it into your pocket for later anyway.

He responds by striding over to the compartment door. You think he's about to leave, but instead he presses a small button that slides open a touchscreen panel.

“You can order anything you need through this. It's essentially room service, which is super cool,” he says, grinning.

You tilt your head, once again impressed, trying to keep the wonder off your face.

“There's also a bathroom in the next car if you need to brush your teeth or shower.”

Realizing your mouth feels decidedly un-fresh, you pull out your toothpaste and brush and are about to step out when you hear Jaehwan start to follow.

“You are not following me to the bathroom,” you say with a glare.

He quirks his mouth in a lopsided frown, apparently taking his job as your bodyguard very seriously. “Hakyeon said to keep an eye on you.”

“No.” You refuse to be followed around everywhere, least of all to the bathroom.

He shrugs and gives up, sitting back down.

“It's on the left!” you hear him call out behind you as you step out into the hall.

Following his directions, you walk down the corridor to the left. The automatic door to the next car slides open and you walk through, only to run directly into a man coming through the other side.

“Sorry!” you say quickly, stepping back to give the man some space.

“Ack, I’m sorry miss.” The man’s voice is a low rumble in his chest as he turns to the side to let you through. “Are you okay?”

Embarrassed, you quickly walk past him, noting his close-cropped black hair and considerable height before bowing your head in apology.

“I’m fine. I should have been looking where I was going, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good!” He chuckles in a just-as-low booming way before heading down the way you came.

The bathroom turns out to be nicer than the one you have in your apartment, with stainless steel faucets and even a small tiled shower. You quickly brush your teeth and wash your face, feeling a little readier to handle life. Satisfied with your minty fresh breath, you return to the compartment and pull out your laptop, settling down to be productive despite the circumstances.

Jaehwan is fiddling with the service screen as you open your emails, grateful for the abundant internet access. You're starting to compose some sort of explanation for your landlady when Jaehwan interrupts your thoughts.

“When's the last time you ate, Princess?”

A quick glance over shows that he's swiping through some sort of menu, but you're more interested in your email. “I thought I asked you to stop calling me that,” you mumble half-heartedly.

“Hakyeon's gonna kill me if you die of starvation before we get you to him,” he retorts. “I'm ordering food, what do you want?”

You're about to tell him to surprise you with anything, but ultimately realizing you don't trust him not to order more candy, you give up and make your way over to the screen.

“The train's also about to make its first stop, if you wanna hop off and find something there,” Jaehwan says. “We won't have a lot of time though.”

You shake your head and poke at the screen, picking out an entree for yourself. Leaving Jaehwan to make his own selection, you busy yourself with your laptop again, wondering just how much of your work you can actually do remotely. Explaining your situation to your supervisor is going to be a headache and you feel bad for dropping out on the rest of your team, but you'd worked way too hard to get this position to just give it up now.

You're looking through some code, accompanied by the sounds of a game Jaehwan is playing on his phone. Try as you might, the characters all swim in front of your eyes as you lose your concentration, lost in anxiety about going back to Asadal. Ten years is a long time, and you're not sure what you'll find when you return.

The food eventually arrives, carted in by a courier. Delicious smells of noodles and rice fill the compartment as your attention is finally torn from your work. Looking at the cart though, you realize that there are about ten dishes extra from what you ordered.

“Royal credit card!” Jaehwan exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

“You can't possibly eat all this,” you say, fixing him with an incredulous look.

“You're going to help me, of course,” he responds matter-of-factly, grabbing a pair of chopsticks.

You cross your arms in defiance. “I did not sign up for that.”

“Sit down, Princess.” He pats the seat next to him and shoves a dumpling in his mouth. “You're just as stubborn as Hakyeon, you know that?”

Mildly offended, you take the seat opposite him and pick up some chopsticks of your own. Living on your own for so long, you had few opportunities to eat out, and your own cooking skills are limited, to put it kindly. The spread of dishes in front of you is almost overwhelming in comparison.

You load up a plate of rice and the entree you chose, but Jaehwan keeps adding to your plate, looking away and munching on his food innocently when you glare. Resisting the urge to fling something at him, you begin to eat quietly. It's all so very delicious, and you have to work hard not to show Jaehwan how much you're enjoying it, lest he be too proud of himself.

The meal passes in silence, punctuated only with Jaehwan's insistence you try something. Your full stomach makes you feel sleepy again, and you officially give up on work, leaning back against the seats and staring out the window. You're on dark land now, the stars illuminating the blurry landscape. Being surrounded by city lights for most of your life, the star-studded sky is an unfamiliar but unforgettable sight. You close your eyes again, trying to prepare yourself for the coming days as best as possible.

Hours later, you're shaken awake by Jaehwan who is kneeling next to you and sporting a serious look you've never seen before on him.

“Rise and shine, we have to go.”

#vixx #vixx au #lee jaehwan #vixx fanfic #vixx fanfiction #ken #vixx ken #ken x reader #kpop fanfiction #idol x reader #f: hiraeth

[tstravels]

May 12, 2017 - Day 2 (first full day)

Disclaimer: the first few posts will be pretty long since everything is new and I have so much to say. I promise they won't be as lengthy once I get into a routine. Wow, today was exciting and full. So let’s start from the beginning. We woke up and had yummy Swiss cereal and milk and tea. The Kalenga Guest House was actually very nice and I wouldn’t mind moving back there. We then sat around and checked email for a bit, waiting for Dr. Ngoma to come talk to us “between 9-10am.” He arrived around 10:30 and immediately whisked us off to Muhimbili Hospital (full acronym: MUHAS). MUHAS MUHAS was really cool and interesting to explore. He had his assistant Miriam show us around. The campus is similar to U of M in that there are a lot of schools in one place. It’s open air, but closed buildings. Faculty have offices in air conditioned hallways, but there are not many of them at all. In 5 steps, we could pass the faculty offices for the Department of Public Health, Pediatrics, and Surgery. The courtyards were filled with tall, but neat, bushes and palm trees, among other exotic plants. We saw our first scarily large bug today when it landed on Miriam’s shoulder and she freaked out. We also had the opportunity to visit the EMD (Emergency Medicine Department) and hear from one of the nurses there. Apparently this EMD is the first (est. 2010) and only EMD in the country. If you are anywhere else and you need an ambulance, that’s too bad. Even if you were in Dar, I doubt an ambulance could get to an emergency in time. The nurse estimated that there are a total of 12 specialist clinicians working at the hospital. Total. However, she did mention that three of the physicians have gone back to their home towns and started EMDs there. They’re still trying to get started, but progress is being made. She talked about how insurance is mostly private here, and a lot of people can’t pay. There’s an initiative by the EMD to raise money for children’s insurance ($25 a year, per child), since many of them don’t have it and therefore don’t receive the proper treatment because they cannot pay for it. It makes our insurance issues in the US seem stupid. The waiting area for the hospital is in the hallway, and the family has to wait outside the building. The nurse explained to us that there is a hierarchy of treatment in Tanzania, and MUHAS is at the top of the pyramid, or the last resort, depending on how you look at it. She also showed us the “casuality room,” which is where people had to stay if there was a big accident that killed many people (like a bus crash). She said there have been 3 of those incidents since 2010. Right outside the busy MUHAS complex, there’s a bustling dirt road with as many street vendors as there are potholes. After MUHAS, Dr. Ngoma kindly drove us to the Ocean Road Cancer Institute (ORCI), where I’ll be working. ORCI ORCI was a lot calmer than MUHAS, probably by nature since there isn’t emergency medicine there, but rather cancer patients. It was beautiful, at first glance. It’s a big complex of white buildings right across the street from the ocean, with a nice air-conditioned office where I’ll be working. I still haven’t met my doctor yet, but I did meet someone else that I’ll be working with. I’m honestly just excited to get to work at this point. We didn’t stay for very long, though, because we had to tour apartments. Keep in mind Stacey and I have not eaten since breakfast and are starting to get hungry. Ocean Front Suites We walked from ORCI down a long road covered by trees on either side. The entire time, I was trying to coordinate with someone to meet us in the lobby so we could see the apartment and make a deposit before another group of people did. Which now that I’m typing it, may be was a false thing he said to try and get us to sign the apartment quickly. His manager gave us a tour of the 3 and 4 bedroom apartments, but of course we had to choose the 4 bedroom. At first glance, it is the nicest apartment I’ve ever lived in. Four giant bedrooms, each with a wall of windows and a balcony with an amazing view. They’re all furnished, except for some strange items that we had to buy ourselves (sheets, towels, hangers, clothesline, etc). Every room has its own AC unit, and two of the rooms have bathrooms. Stacey and I were so eager to get the apartment, we just said we wanted it. We decided to walk home, which took about 30 minutes and was super hot, but I’m proud that we did it all by ourselves. We quickly packed up all of our stuff at the Kalenga Guest House and hopped in a taxi to Ocean Front Suites. The manager was there and put all of our stuff in a locked room while some people cleaned our apartment. We then went on a quick walking tour to the supermarket and to other random stores to get sheets. Stacey and I, exhausted and hungry, had to go to the supermarket to get food, towels, and internet. The internet store was sadly closed, which really sucked cause I want to talk to people so badly right now and my data’s not working. The market was actually quite expensive, even though we only got a few things. We ate at Stone Town Kitchen and had tikka masala with garlic naan and mango juice for $7 each. That was about 8 hours without eating. Our apartment When we finally got home, we quickly realized our apartment was falling apart. First of all, the lights are horrible. They’re like neon bulbs in really fancy chandliers. I also have bright red leather couches, cause that’s always in style. First, we figured out the AC didn’t work in any of the rooms. Then, we found a puddle of water in one of the nice bathrooms (the one with the jacuzzi tub) in one of the big rooms. Slowly we uncovered more and more problems; there was no toilet seat in one bathroom, the shower door was completely broken in another, the door wouldn’t close to one of the balconies, the lights didn’t work in two rooms, the faucets leak, and the one shower that did work flooded when you showered. EDIT: We fixed all these things the next day. Ocean front suites is really a good place to live. I hadn’t felt homesick or bad about Tanzania at all until this point. Day 2, I know, I’m weak. I think it’s cause my data wasn’t working so I couldn’t talk to anyone about it and I was just so frustrated that we didn’t notice any of these things when we were looking at the apartment. From now on, when I tour an apartment, I will test all of the lights and faucets and everything. Either way, I’m totally exhausted and it was hard to even finish this post. I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, because honestly today was amazing up until we discovered everything was wrong with our apartment. Even with all of the flaws, I think our apartment is pretty stellar compared to the living conditions we’ve seen all around us. Misc There are no sidewalks (for the most part), you just have to walk in the road. Still no sign of mosquitoes. Just kidding, got my first mosquito bite during this writing. JK Not mosquito bite… but what is it???

#Tanzania #africa #travel #day 2 #adventure #dar es salaam #orci #apartment #muhas

[driftwork]

Hotel Stories: Tokyo 2 - Literary moods Hotel, room 34, third floor...

The day passed uneventfully the safe house was 20 miles to the south, they had to follow a circuitous route along side streets and through residential areas, only crossing main roads when necessary. Only once did they accidentally cross paths with their pursuers, at three in the afternoon a black SUV containing four yak gangsters of the white syndicate came across them by chance, turned and drove towards them. She emptied half a magazine into the car probably killing or seriously injuring  the driver. It crashed. The man in the passenger seat got out of the car and tried to raise his gun. She shot him.  The remaining two stayed in the car as she waved her gun at them. She took the gun and the wallet from the man she'd just shot.Taking the magazine before throwing the gun on the ground. They ran down the street and disappeared before either of the remaining ones managed to phone for help. They were tired, still five miles from the safe house at dusk.  She did not want to approach the safe house in this state so they found a hotel with a discreet brass and neon sign. The Hotel lándes, Vam-Acta 6.

It was a rundown  boutique hotel that needed refurbishment.  The carpet in the foyer was threadbare. The paintwork and wall covering was dull and rubbed. The brass door handles on the entrance were dented and misshapen. To the right an open double door that led to the restaurant and bar associated with the hotel. It wasn't very busy. They registered for two nights using his Amex card, they reasoned that they shouldn't yet have managed to identify him. They sat at a dark table in the corner of the restaurant, the waiter came and lit a candle for them handing them menus. The restaurant had a shelf of books on the window sills, and a wall covered with book covers, dust-jackets and front covers. He would have liked to look at the wall but knew he shouldn't in this situation.  [The waitor assumed  because of the way they talked and looked at one another that they were a couple] They ordered Udon noodles with some sliced vegetables  in a miso sauce with a fillet of seabass.  They began to  talk about their lives and personal histories. In some ways trying to understand how they had ended up in this dark corner of the hotel restaurant. They failed. He talked about his separation from his girlfriend, work and books. She spoke of childhood, the training beginning at five;  taekwondo, karate, tai-chi, swords, guns. She spoke about the impossibility of having relationships, her family and a life in which most people were scared of her.  The violence and crime. He didn't care. He liked her face. The intense muscularity of her movement and gestures. He didn't know whether it was desire or something else. He spoke of his family and friends. The high levels of fear he had been living with for the last day had become normalized or  perhaps it was simply that he was sitting at a table eating with her. The waiter had a tee-shirt on which the word 'waiter' printed on it in english.  He brought more tea and suggested shaved ice for dessert. She was amused by the way the waiter was speaking to them as a couple. Over the four days they speak of this many times - but the second night. In the Hotel Landes is the most romantic and perhaps the clearest indicator of the changes that were taking place. He asked her why they were reacting like that. They are scared of me. Why? Because of who and what I am. She asks him why he didn't go when he still could. [The unspoken implication being - Though we have been careful they must be close to identifying who you are by now] I don't know. Later he would suddenly say “Ï don't want you to be on your own" In the restaurant beneath the gentle sound of Japanese electronic music he asked her why she didn't leave him. I don't know either, Perhaps because I survived the initial attack and it seemed better to be with someone. She paused. She always paused at this point in this repetitive discussion.  I think I would have died on my own, given up rather than run. Later in the hotel room whilst looking at the ceiling with her he says that "I will never be scared of you." She  thinks that this is the nicest thing anyone has said to her for years.  He doesn't know this.

Each room of the hotel was named after a literary them or genre. They had a choice between Romance (she shuddered) and Dystopia. They chose Dystopia. The dark grey door had a code pad on it,  the keycode was 1923. It opened directly into the room, facing the windows and balcony out onto the courtyard. Behind the kingsize bed was an oversized reproduction of a Soviet poster extolling the virtues of work. A bookcase along along one wall contained an array of 20th and 21st century dystopian novels,  along with a few utopian novels and related non-fiction. A short shelf on eugenics and Mendelism, a few unreadable books on economics, various translations into English and Japanese of 'We',  copies of Louis Chardenneau novels,  Rolin, Huxley and so on....   The floor had a heavily patterned carpet with a pattern of broken rocket ships. Beneath the carpet is  a wooden floor had been laid, it was floating on chipboard that is glued to the concrete floor. Each board glued along the long tongue and groove edges. Over the years of constant heat and moisture changes the wood had  expanded and contracted so that now  cracks were appearing where the boards were separating. His bare foot could feel the gap between the boards when he moved it across the line. In the dark the only light was from the led light of the radio.The ceiling had a gold  lightening bolt that decorated across it and down into a point on the wall above the door into the bathroom. The window frames were light grey. The duvet and pillows with brilliant white Egyptian cotton.  Against one wall there is a small heater ( 9 chrome plated heating elements) above it some shelves with model rocket ships, flying cars, clockwork robots and androids and a misplaced small and hideous painting of a village scene, the village reflected on a lake in the foreground of the painting. If you look out of the windows you can see the bright neon lit night, almost as bright as daylight. Over the road  there are some signs in green on white with "Hotel" written horizontally and "restaurant written vertically. Around the district are low level housing mostly two or three stories made of concrete and wood with flat roofs, lots of wood and gray with white shutters.  A few street signs in either white on blue or  red on white.  The street lamps hang off the buildings with wires strung between the lamps.  The bathroom is all white, grey and chrome, All the walls are covered in large rectangular white tiles, The  grout between the tiles is on off-white colour, verging on a pale grey. The walk-in shower has soft grey tiles, with a rain shower fixed against the wall about 2.2 metres above the floor tiles, and an adjustable hand shower attached to the  riser and the flexible pipe attach to the control unit that can be height adjusted as required. On the left  of the control unit  is the selector for either the rain shower or the adjustable hand shower.. On the other side of the unit is the flow and water temperature control. It is set at the midway point.  The wash basin is adjacent to the shower it has chrome taps, one hot (on the right) and the cold tap (on the left) both are fed from tanks.  There is a grey bobble mat on the floor before the shower entrance and the basin.  A single light  is attached to the ceiling, there is a crack in the white opaque shade. There is an extractor fan in the corner above the chrome shower unit that starts to hum when the light is on. Besides the mirror on the wall above the basin are two strips of lighting. Everything else in the bathroom is shiny and white apart from the two button controls (one large and one small) on the loo and the chrome towel rail.  Plastic bottles of shampoo, conditioner and shower gel, a pump bottle of skin lotion, stand in a wire chrome container hanging on the wall in the shower . A small unmirrored cabinet on the wall containing unused bottles of shampoo and shower gel and new throwaway Fusion razors.  A few books are resting on the clear shelves, a surrealist childrens' book in English and a copy of Spinoza's Ethics in Japanese. After they have showered, she is lying on her back in the white toweling robe decorated with what she thinks is an appropriately broken rocket ship over her left breast, looking up at the gold lightening bolt on the ceiling she thought that perhaps Romance would have been better. She feels slightly hot and sits up. He is sitting, looking a little damp, in front of the book shelves looking at a copy of Zamatyn's novel.  He looks round, telling her that he likes the Zamatyn book and how was she feeling now. They had talked their way across twenty miles or more of Tokyo, tiny gestures, facial expressions,  semiosis across the city. She looked at him seriously, "please sleep with me."  (Transference is a process of the actualization of unconscious wishes. Together in this hotel, the grouping of relating objects.)  She woke up to the sound of the socio-technical machines of the hotel  beginning the early morning work. There is sunlight edging into the room from the corner of one of the blinds. One of his arms on her back. He was still asleep, he had put on a teeshirt on during the night just as she had, the toweling robes dumped on the floor besides the bed, one on each side. She looked at him, feeling a smile appearing on her face and wondering again how they had ended up sleeping together. He traces the tattoo on her back with his fingers.  She thought the sex had been understandably unspectacular, unmemorable, already forgotten and was amused to discover that she didn't care. When he woke up and smiled at her as she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, she thought how nice it was to be with him.

They left early in the morning, drinking tea and coffee and eating a light breakfast before following the business men and women who were staying in the hotel out on the road. They walked for half an hour before stopping at a cafe for another drink. Afterwards walking for three hours along back streets towards the safe house....

#everyday practices #tokyo story #fiction

[baburaja97-blog]

New Post has been published on Vin Zite

New Post has been published on https://vinzite.com/how-to-spread-the-good-news-of-the-gospel/

How to Spread the Good News of the Gospel

When we spread the good news of the Gospel, we can expect to face opposition. The apostle Paul was no exception. He boldly preached the Gospel to the Thessalonians in spite of suffering and mistreatment. First Thessalonians 2:1-8 is a model for all Christians to follow, especially when they are called to spread the Good News of the Gospel. In particular, we are to pay attention to the example Paul set for us. His bold preaching was direct and to the point. He did not use words that would please his audience. He did not resort to manipulation. He did not try to “tickle the ears” of his listeners. He did not try to use his ministry for financial gain. Unlike some preachers. Paul was honest, and honesty is refreshingly simple. No ulterior motives or hidden meanings. No need to manipulate people. No matter how much opposition he encountered, he never took his eyes off of his calling to bring people to Jesus.

If we want to build the Christian community, we must proclaim the Gospel boldly. In the words of Dr. Michael Youssef, who is the president of Leading the Way Ministries, we must “passionately proclaim the uncompromising truth.” We must be fearless when we speak out against things such as social injustice, lax morals or the abuse of power within the Christian community.

Paul was entrusted by God to speak not to please man, but to please God. Paul was entrusted with the Gospel, just like God entrusts all of his people with the Gospel. The Gospel has been safeguarded throughout the nations. It is the responsibility of each generation to safeguard the Gospel for generations to come.

Paul and his fellow missionaries could have made demands as apostles. In particular, they could have asked to be paid for their preaching, but they didn’t. Paul made his living as a tentmaker everywhere he went to preach. This supported the claim that the motives of Paul and his colleagues were pure. Lay ministers such as me do not get paid for leading worship services unless they take services in a parish other than their home parish. In my case, I was paid for leading worship services at the United Churches in Liverpool and Bridgewater this past summer. The love of God speaks to the insecurity and the need that is at the center of greed and as we focus on God’s gift of grace, and we remember that in Jesus we have been given abundant, eternal life, there becomes less and less we have to have, less and less we want.

The Christian church does have some ministers with large egos who have to put their pictures on all their books, parade their degrees after their names, or have the best parking places and the nicest offices. They are no better than the Pharisees in Jesus’ day. True preachers can’t separate their preaching from their daily lives. They must literally “practice what they preach.” If only all preachers-indeed-if only all Christians-served one another as Paul served his fellow Christians. He served his fellow Christians in the following ways:

1. He served with boldness, truth, and honesty, seeking to please God and not men. 2. He served without flattery, covetousness, or seeking glory from men. 3. He served with labor night and day, seeking to be devout, just, and blameless. 4. He served with the gentleness and affection of a nursing mother and the guidance and encouragement of a caring father.

Paul was an effective witness because of what he did. He lived out his faith in his relationship with God. The only way we can be effective witnesses is to live our faith in our relationship with God and with each other.

Those of us who provide spiritual leadership have to provide tender loving care to our flocks. We have to provide the spiritual nourishment that people need just like a mother cherishes and nurses her children.

Those of us who preach the Gospel must have courage. Courage is often associated with bravery, but courage can take many different forms. Courage is related to confidence, but in this case, confidence is less about being right than it is about being comfortable. It means remaining non-defensive when we are challenged, to listen respectfully to others recognizing that God may be speaking to us through them. While we must have the courage to share the Gospel, we must also be vulnerable. We must share what we know and how we strive to live what we know and how we have failed and doubted along our Christian journey.

Evangelism must always be focused on leading people to Christ because it is a matter of their spiritual life and death. Evangelism must be done with a sense of urgency. We must not allow our daily routines to distract us from our Christian duty. We must preach the truth boldly without using tricks or manipulation. We must please God regardless of whether or not there is any growth in the number of Christian followers.

Paul was successful because of he, like most good ministers, took the time to cultivate relationships with people. He cared for them by getting involved in their lives. As the old saying goes, people don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care. He shared himself with them by getting involved in their lives.

Paul was bold and direct in his preaching, but he was also a warm and gentle man. That is why he used the image of a nursing mother in 1 Thessalonians 2:7. Paul and his colleagues were eager to give themselves to others just like a mother gives herself to her family and just like Christ gave himself for us. Paul also got involved emotionally in their lives. He loved the people he met, and he treated them as people of value. When we love others, we must also treat them as people of value instead of a means to an end. When we talk to others, we must talk about our affections, and that includes the gestures of love and kindness such as hugs, handshakes (like those we use when we pass the peace.

We must lead lives that are stirring enough to start a movement for God. We must have a burning desire to change the world. That must be our passion in life. We must serve others with the tender loving care that Jesus showed. We must encourage each other in our spiritual journey. Even when things look dark and dismal in our broken, human world, God will prevail. God will triumph over evil. God is at work in the world, and he will work through people of faith. God can’t be limited. Even God’s enemies are used by God to do his work in the world.

God also works through the church. We are his agents of change. We are entrusted with the Good News of unconditional love, never-ending grace, and ultimate peace. This means that there is something for each and every one of us to do. There are lots of things we can do in the church such as teaching Sunday school, volunteering with the ACW or the Altar Guild or serving on a committee, church council or parish council, or even serving as a lay minister. There are things we can do in our everyday lives such as being godly parents or children or community members.

We are to be focused on the mission. The only way we can accomplish this mission is to live our lives with integrity. Living a life of integrity means genuinely caring for the people and churches we serve. We must have a passion for making God look good each and every day.

Dr. Haddon Robinson, who is regarded as one of the leading teachers of the art of preaching, once told the story of a writer for a newspaper in Toronto who undertook an investigation into the ethical practices of auto repair shops in his city. He took a spark plug wire off of his engine, making the car run unevenly. He took the car into different shops and asked them to fix it. Time after time people sold him unnecessary repairs or charged him for repairs that were not done.

Finally, he went to a small garage. A fellow named Fred came out, popped open the hood, and said, “Let me listen to that thing.” After a few seconds, he told the reporter, “I think I know what’s wrong.” He reached down and grabbed the wire, announcing, “Your spark plug wire came off.” And he put it back on.

The reporter asked, “What do I owe you?”

“I’m not going to charge you anything,” Fred replied. “I didn’t have to fix anything; I just reattached the wire.”

The writer then told Fred what he was doing and that he had been charged all kinds of money by mechanics looking at that same wire. He asked Fred, “Why didn’t you charge me anything?” Fred said, “Are you sure you want to know? I happen to be a Christian and believe that everything we do should be done to glorify God. I’m not a preacher and I’m not a missionary, but I am a mechanic and so I do it honestly. I do it skillfully and I do it to the glory of God.”

The next day in the newspaper was a headline that read, “Christian Mechanic, Honest to the Glory of God.”

Regardless of what we do for God, we must not tone down his message. Even when our message is challenged, we must not back down. We are to be good shepherds, servant leaders whose job description includes leading others to God. God empowers us as leaders and as followers to build up, to influence and to persuade others. We build and strengthen our community of believers so that we may reach out to serve.