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#who knows but this lady singing to me in italian or latin is so pretty
wiipes · 3 years
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everybody SHUT UP I'm embracing my love for choral music, not like church stuff but like choral choral, like the kind choirs sing and stuff. mostly because I was in choir before quarantine struck and I can't sing with my peers. Also fuck what my boyfriend says, opera is BEAUTIFUL AND ENCHANTING.
But also my likes are kind of fucked.
In order, in one section, is Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, EGIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE by Corpse, and then Vivaldi: Orlando furioso by Vivaldi + Bartoli + Ensemble.
WHAT VIBES IS THIS??
in any case, I can never play my likes playlist at work or even shuffle, the monstrosity would cause mass mayhem and as much as I would adore the chaos, I need this job lmao.
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horrorslashergirl · 3 years
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Slasher OC: Decebal Avram Chirilă
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Full Name: Decebal Avram Chirilă
Nickname(s): Dacia, Dece, The Impaler, Vladislav, Tiger, Lynx, Dracula, Casanova
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Nationality: Romanian
Place of Birth: Bucharest, Romania
Current Location: Travels from country to country
Occupation: Former Romanian Soldier; Now Hitman
Languages: Romanian, English, German, French, Italian, Hungarian, Russian, Turkish
Appearance:
Height: 6'8
Weight: 240lbs
Body Type: Middle Bulky and Atheltic
Skin Color: Warm Beige
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Hair Style: Short on the sides and longer on top, wavy
Eye Color: Pale Grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind
Face Claim: Stephen James
Clothing: He opts for comfortable clothing mostly because of his job as a hitman and because he is always on the run. He mostly goes with black T-shirts or shirts, a khaki army coat with many pockets, along with camo army pants again with many pockets and black combat boots. He has a long black scarf with the colors of the Romanian flag trimmed along that belonged to his father.
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Other features: He has many scars on his broad back and down his arms; his back's scars are covered by tattoos of an eagle and a grim reaper with two swords in an X shape. His has full sleeve tattoos down his arms, picturing all kind of nature scenarios from his country, mountains and wild animals and AK-47's on each forearm. His neck, chest and legs are also covered by tattoos along with his hands. This guy is all inked up. He also has a silver earing on his right ear. He also wears an eyepatch that is covering his scarred eye that he got from a fight with his brother Alexander, the scar mimiking the ones Alexander has, coming from his eyebrow down his eye and over his cheek.
Weapons: Twin Swords, Twin Guns, and throwing knives.
Power/Skills:
Murderous expertise
Brute strength
Skilled usage of weaponry
Skill in hand-to-hand combat
Knifesmanship
Swordsmanship
Multilingual
Cunning Nature
Charisma
Driving expertise
Ruthlessness
Fearlessness
Manipulation
Marksmanship
Master tactician and strategist
Stealth mastery
Symbols: Here is the link to Decebal's symbols
History/Bio:
Decebal was named after a Romanian king by his parents, father Apostol Chirilă, and his mother, Maria Stratulat of Moldovic heritage. They were a poor family that lived in Bucharest during the communist times, a hard period for them. Decebal's father, Apostol was one of the rebels that were against this form of a system of social organization in which all property is owned by the community and each person contributes and receives according to their ability and needs.
Because of this Apostol and Maria, along with their three years old son, Decebal, were dragged into the communistic jails where they were tortured in all kinds of ways from whipping to starvation to being chained into coldness.
Decebal tried to protect his parents even though he was a small child and the army warden that took care of the horrific jails was surprised by the child's braveness and he took him away from his parents, not before forcing him to watch how his parents were killed brutally.
During the rest of his childhood and teenage years, Decebal spent most of his life in the dark underground jail, training with the soldiers, doing hard work. Despite that, the warden thought Decebal about all kinds of languages, cultures, and history. 
'Just because you're a stray dog that doesn't mean you cannot learn to bark and bite.'
In his late teenage years as he grew into an adult man, he got more to the light outside, following the warden wherever he went and did was his so-called 'father' figure did; smoke, drink and got laid with all the ladies.
The warden's words during a drunken late-night:
'You know boy, you will do something big, much bigger than you can imagine. I saw how all these sluts looked at you... You make them fall into your arms like they are desperate whores.'
'Use everything you got; charms, brains, muscles. In this world, there are the ones that walk every inch of the ground as they own it and the ones that follow, all chained. Tell me, boy... Which one you are?'
One of the greatest abilities that Decebal earned during years in the darkness was that he got so used to it that now as an adult, he sees perfectly into the darkness, just like cats do. 
Some people called Decebal 'Lynx'; the moniker originates from the fact that Lynx has exceptional night vision, remarkable hearing, and incredible instincts. The spiritual lesson Lynx carries to you is a reminder to partake of quiet observance, remembering there’s more to the world than what’s accessible through the physical eyes and ears alone.
After communism fell down in Romania, Decebal still maintained the attitude he grew up around; being sadistic, cold, and cruel. People weren't too fond of his attitude; his habits including fighting and torturing people that opposed him, getting laid with other men's wives, strolling down the streets like he owned everything.
He disappeared from Romania when there was a reward on his head to be finally executed. The Romanian army was hot on his trail, turning against him, but he simply vanished.
He strolls from country to country, not having a definitive home and working as a rogue hitman to earn money and to survive.
After a brutal fight between him and his twin little brother, Alexander; the two brothers which resulted in both of them almost dead, they get on an agreement of peace between them, with the help of their third part, their little sister Nadia.
Family: His little brother Alexander Chirilă and his little sister Nadia Nikolina Chirilă
His favorite killing style:
He prefers a kill that will put on a good show, he will shot his victims in both their knees, then he will dismember them with his sharp twin swords.
Personality:
Decebal has two paths of personality; the civilian one and the hitman one, that sometimes cross path depending on the situation at hand. In hi day to day life, he is a charming, handsome man, confident and sure of himself, but also having a modesty edge, just to draw people in closer, because he loves the attention, having a God-like complex.
Despite his childhood, he is a very educated man that speaks many languages, sometimes taking people by surprise, he can even put on fake accents. He also has vast knowledge about other countries history, mostly because that's what his 'father-figure' talked a lot about.
He is a flirt, he simply adores to make women swon by his charming looks and mysterious persona wherever he goes, people always wondering from where he comes. He knows how to sweet-talk people, being extremly manipulative. His looks; big and strong, in his eyes a flaming white glow.
You will rarely see Decebal without his charming smile or dark smirk that makes the ladies sigh and faint. He always puts on a winning attitude, knowing for creating many divorces along his travelings. 
Here goes his saying: 'If the female raised her tail, who I am to deny.'
He has a romantic side, after all he does speaks the romance languages, but it's highly influenced his his Casanova attitude.
He is blunt; this man will tell if you're damn gorgeous or if you're down-right ugly or stupid. He has no problem putting his opinions straight on the table.
His favorite drink: Țuică- is a traditional Romanian spirit that contains ~ 24–65% alcohol by volume (usually 40–55%), prepared only from plums.
His favorite food: Sarma is a dish of vine, cabbage, monk's rhubarb, kale or chard leaves rolled around a filling of grains, like bulgur or rice, minced meat, or both. It is found in the cuisines of the former Ottoman Empire from the Middle East to Southeastern Europe.
His scent: Decebal's scent could be described as a 'game of seduction' with an "exciting rush" of citrus and cool spice top notes. Pungent bergamot "bites" with freshness, revived by cardamom and lavender. Caviar gives a provocative and erotic touch “like a trickle of sweat on a man’s chiseled body.” Masculine and rough notes of tobacco and orris root facilitate the heat of the composition. He has that scent that could be described as smoky confidence irresistible to women.
Other Characteristics:
He is a very good dancer, especially traditional ones and he also knows singing. Attending important parties with his 'father-figure' he learned from the women how to dance and sing. The women basically made him such a charismatic man.
He is a heavy drinker and holds his alcohol like it's water; his moldovic genes showing off. 
He is more of a night person that a day one, mostly because of his very good nocturnal sight.
He is pretty much an Outlaw.
His accent sounds like italian, latin, but with a little bit of russian or another slavic accent. (That's how a Austrian woman described his accent one night)
He is a master at Poker. Another way he earns a lot of money is through poker and plus, he is a master cheater. FUN FACT HERE: He won a man's wife through poker for one night.
He is a sword swallower, bonus he has no gag reflex.
He also loves to smoke from his pipe.
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There lived a certain man in Romania long ago
He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow
Most people look at him with terror and with fear
But to Bucharest chicks he was such a lovely dear
He could preach the Bible like a preacher
Full of ecstasy and fire
But he also was the kind of teacher
Women would desire
DE DE DECEBAL
Lover of the ROMANIAN queen
There was a cat that really was gone
DE DE DECEBAL
Romania's greatest love machine
It was a shame how he carried on
He ruled the Romanian land and never mind the Tsar
But the kazachok he danced really wunderbar
In all affairs of state he was the man to please
But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze
For the queen he was no wheeler dealer
Though she'd heard the things he'd done
She believed he was a holy healer
Who would heal her son
DE DE DECEBAL
Lover of the Romanian queen
There was a cat that really was gone
DE DE DECEBAL
Romania's greatest love machine
It was a shame how he carried on
(This is an interpretation of the song ‘Rasputin’ by Boney M, mostly because the song inspired me into creating him)
For power became known to more and more people
The demands to do something about this outrageous
Man became louder and louder
"This man's just got to go!" declared his enemies
But the ladies begged "Don't you try to do it, please"
No doubt this Decebal had lots of hidden charms
Though he was a brute they just fell into his arms
Then one night some men of higher standing
Set a trap, they're not to blame
"Come to visit us" they kept demanding
And he really came
DE DE DECEBAL
Lover of the Romanian queen
They put some poison into his țuică
DE DE DECEBAL
Romania's greatest love machine
He drank it all and said "I feel fine"
DE DE DECEBAL
Lover of the Romanian queen
They didn't quit, they wanted his head
DE DE DECEBAL
Romania's greatest love machine
[Spoken:] Oh, those Romanians...
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But when his drinking and lusting and his hunger
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cynicalhag · 2 years
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This Or That ABCs
[hxcsingingsk8r]
Animals
Cats or Dogs?
Hamsters or Gerbils?
Fish or Birds?
Polar Bear or Grizzly Bear?
Lions or Tigers?
Giraffes or Elephants?
Dolphins or Sharks?
What's your favorite animal?
I have a few. I like cats, but I also have a huge thing for sea mammals, so like seals, walruses and especially manatees. I love them. They are so squishy. I saw a walrus for the first time in Belgium in August and I was so excited.
Books
Harry Potter or Twilight?<< I’m definitely one of those people who got sentimental about Twilight in 2021. They were so bad but I love it. 
The Hunger Games or LOTR?<< Haven’t read either but I prefer the LOTR movies over Hunger Games.
The Host or Eragon?<< Haven’t read either.
House of Night or The Immortals?<< Also haven’t read.
Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet?<< Haven’t read.
Perks of Being a Wallflower or To Kill A Mockingbird?<< I haven’t read To Kill A Mockingbird yet. I really want to. I do love Perks of Being a Wallflower, both the book and the movie, so I’ll pick that.
Holes or Anne of Green Gables?<< Haven’t read either.
What is your favorite book? Or do you not even like reading?
I love reading. I don’t have a all time favorites but a few that I can think of are all of Simon Häggström’s books, The Incendiaries by R.O. Kwon, Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood, Room by Emma Donoghue, Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women and the rest of us by Kate Bornstein, A Simple Plan by Scott Smith and 1984 by George Orwell, 
Colors
Red or Orange?
Yellow or Green?
Dark blue or Aqua?
Purple or Pink?
Black or White?
Gray or Brown?
Neon Colors or Dark Colors?
What's your favorite color(s)?
Black.
Drinks
Pepsi or Coke?<< Cause I’m controversial like that.
Sprite or Sierra Mist?<< Haven’t tried Sierra Mist. Never heard of it.
Dr. Pepper or Root Beer?
Hot Tea or Iced Tea?
Hot Coco or Coffee?
Beer or Wine?
Whiskey or Vodka?
Do you drink alcohol at all?
I do, but very rarely with the intention of getting drunk. Only cause I like the taste.
Exercising
Baseball or Tennis?<< Neither, I don’t do sports.
Soccer or Football? << Neither, I don’t do sports.
Swimming or Running?
Weightlifting or Treadmill?
Skating or Biking?
Volleyball or Lacrosse? << Neither, I don’t do sports.
Dancing or Gymnastics?
What's your favorite way to exercise?
The only exercise I do and enjoy doing is yoga or pilates.
Food
Italian food or Mexican food?
Chinese food or Indian food?
Greek food or American food?
Hotdogs or Hamburgers?
Pasta or Pizza?
Cake or Pie?
Fruits or Vegatables?
What's your favorite food?
I’m not a huge foodie. Eating is mostly a chore for me, or just fuel, but I do like Asian food of all kinds.
Genres of Music
Alternative or Indie?
Pop or Rock?
Jazz or Classical?
HipHop/Rap or R&B?
Metal or Screamo?
Techno or Electronic?<< Hate both.
Country or Oldies?
What's your favorite genre of music?
What I find myself listening to mostly is rap, hardcore punk and pop. A wide variety.
Hobbies
Singing or Dancing?<< I suck at both.
Sports or Videogames?
Drawing or Painting?<< I once again suck at both.
Acting or Photography?
Cooking or Baking?
Reading or Writing?
TV or Computer?
What are your hobbies?
I like reading, listening to music, watching TV shows and movies. Also surveys.
Insects
Butterflies or Moths?
Roly Polys or Ladybugs? <<Is this even a question?
Spiders or Ants?
Caterpillars or Worms?
Scorpions or Tarantulas?
Bees or Wasps?
Gnats or Mosquitos?
Do you hate bugs?
I don’t hate them, but they’re not my favourite thing in the world, obviously.
Jobs
Doctor or Lawyer?
Writer or Artist?
Musician or Actor?
Athlete or Photographer?
Hairdresser or Waiter?
Secretary or Teacher?
Firefighter or Cop?
What is your dream job?
I have my dream job, but I would love to specialise in palliative and end of life care. 
Knowledge
Public School or Private School?
Online School or Actual Classrooms?
Stay In School or Dropout?
Preschool or Elementary School?
Middle School or High School?
College or Grad School?<< Didn’t go to either so I don’t know.
School or Work?
Do you even like school?
I’ve never really enjoyed school, but I’m enjoying my current schooling in adult education, cause I actually like the classes I’m taking. I’ve enjoyed them all so far, except for the one I’m currently taking that’s health education. It is so boring.
Languages
American or French?
Spanish or Italian?
Chinese or Japanese?
German or Russian?
Hebrew or Arabic?
Sign Language or Latin?
Portugese or Esperanto?
What language(s) do you speak?
Swedish, English and a tiny bit of French. I also understand Norwegian but I don’t speak it.
Movie grenres
Action or Comedy?
Comedy or Drama?
Drama or Foreign?
Foreign or Horror?
Horror or Indie?
Indie or Romance?
Romance or SciFi?
Nature
Beach or Desert?
Arctic or Savannah?
Forest or Jungle?
Ocean or Lake?
Trees or Flowers?
Grass or Sand?
Mountains or Island?
What is the prettiest part of nature to you?
Oceans probably. And snowy landscapes. I love my country for that, despite the fact that I hate the cold.
Opposite Sex << I’m gay but ok.
Hugs or Kisses?
Face or Body?
Looks or Personality?
Good Guy/Girl or Bad Boy/Girl?
Sex or Cuddling?<< I wouldn’t know
Eyes or Smile?
Funny or Serious?
What do you look for in a guy/girl?
Intelligence, empathy, independence, humour, good hygiene. Looks wise, I enjoy dark hair and tattoos. Style is also pretty important.
Places
USA or UK?
Mexico or Canada?
France or Spain?
Italy or Greece?
Israel or Iraq?
China or Japan?
Africa or South America?
Where have you always wanted to visit/live?
Italy, Iceland, Japan, Tokyo, Paris and Morocco are the places I immediately can think of, but I’m open to going anywhere.
Questions of Opinions..
Boys or Girls?
Gay or Straight?
Abortions or No?
War or No?<< Obviously?
Democrat or Republican?
Religious or No?
Optomist or Pessimist?
While I'm being random, what's your name!?
Josefin.
Randomness Again!
Sleeping or Eating?
Movies or TV Shows?
Xbox or Playstation?<< I have no opinion on this. I don’t play video games.
Chocolate or Vanilla?
Scene Kids or Preppy People?
Pikachu or Hello Kitty?
Paramore or Finding Clarity? (Look them up if you don't know them)<< Don’t feel like checking them up.
What's your favorite band(s)?
My all time favorite bands are Nirvana and Arctic Monkeys.
Stars
Zac Efron or Justin Bieber?<< Don’t care for either.
Taylor Lautner or Robert Pattinson?
Ian Somerhalder or Paul Wesley?<< Don’t care.
Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt?
Emma Stone or Natalie Portman?
Kristen Stewart or Emma Watson?
Lady Gaga or Katy Perry?
TV Shows
Vampire Diaries or True Blood?<< I have seen Vampire Diaries and I wasn’t a fan, but I haven’t seen True Blood so I can’t answer this.
American Idol or The Voice?<< Neither.
Lost or Charmed?<< Haven’t seen either.
Secret Life Of The American Teenager or Kyle XY?<< Haven’t seen either.
House or Psyche?<<Haven’t seen either.
MTV or ABC Family?<<Never had ABC Family so I don’t know.
Disney or Nickelodeon?
What are your favorite TV shows?
American Horror Story, Black Mirror, Orange is the New Black and Shameless are a few.
Ur mom!
Your mom jokes or That's what she said jokes? 
Christmas or Hanukkah? << Don’t know what Hanukkah entails and I’ve never celebrated it so I don’t know. I love Christmas though.
Halloween or Thanksgiving? << Never celebrated Thanksgiving before so again, I don’t know. Though I don’t care for Halloween.
Easter or Passover? <<Haven’t celebrated Passover so I don’t know.
New Years or July 4th? <<I’m Swedish, I don’t celebrate July 4th.
Valentines Day or St. Patty's Day?<< Don’t celebrate neither.
Fuck or Shit?
Do you even cuss or no?
I cuss way too much, it’s really bad.
Vrooom!
Car or Truck?
Minivan or SUV?
Train or Bus?
Plane or Boat?
Bike or Motorcycle?
Scooter or Skateboard?
Ferrari or Lamborghini?
What's your dream car?
I don’t care for cars. I’m never even planning on getting a driver’s license.
Woot! We're almost done here!
Super speed or Super strength?
Mind Reading or Invisibility?
Flying or X-Ray Vision?
Time Travel or Having Visions?
Captain America or Iron Man?<< Don’t care.
Batman or Spiderman?<< Don’t care.
The Hulk or Superman?<< Don’t care.
Did you like The Avengers movie?
Haven’t seen it. I don’t care for superhero movies in general.
X Is An Interesting Letter<< Weird category
A or B?
E or F?
I or J?
M or N?
R or S?
T or W?
X or Z?
Oh hey! How old are you?
22.
YEAH MONTHS!
January or February?
March or April?
May or June?
July or August?
September or October?
November or December?
December or January?
When's your birthday?
September.
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kingofthewilderwest · 4 years
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"#just because you have a bias about certain socioeconomic groups which tend to listen to country doesn't mean" // Yup. I tend to side-eye folks who are like "I like all kinds of music except country and [Insert a genre of music usually associated with Black creators like rap and hip hop]" You're not slick, ppl. I know what you're saying.
^^^^^^^^^ You hit the nail on the head.
It’s racial bias. It’s socioeconomic bias. It’s bias against people groups who have less respect and say in society.
From my tags on this post:
#don’t get me started on a long rant of the progressive side of country music and what’s been progressive FOR DECADES#from times near its BEGINNInGS#through the modern age#just because you have a bias about certain socioeconomic groups which tend to listen to country doesn’t mean#that that’s actually what the genre is or who the artists are#I could go for a LONNNNG time about this#a LONG time#some of the best protest songs I know of today’s current political situation#are country#or have like ya’ll forgotten about the folk revival#of the 1960s#or…#gahghfnfddhgnghfngh#I AM GAY AND I LISTEN TO COUNTRY#NYEH!!!!
Now. I understand disinterest in a genre because it’s not your aesthetic, but when people express their feelings for country, R&B, hip-hop, etc. …the dialogue isn’t casual “It’s not my thing.” The dialogue is a hateful, passionate retaliation.
Other genres aren’t treated like this. It’s normalized and encouraged to hate on country and rap. These genres are systematically treated with less respect and that disrespect culturally arose because these genres are associated with less-respected demographics. 
(Country music is associated with people of low socioeconomic status, for people who aren’t explicitly aware.)
Anecdotally: I’ve caught something interesting about anti-country music sentiment. Many people tell me they can’t stand the “twang.” Half the time, I’ve noticed that their internalized definition of “twang” isn’t the vocal technique; it’s that they can’t stand the presence of a Southern accent. And hooboy does that have TONS of sociocultural bias issues. As a linguist, I’ve read endless sociolinguistic studies about how Southern dialects are treated as “lesser,” and how speakers of the dialect are automatically judged to be less intelligent, etc. It’s not good, folks.
Sometimes, to help friends get out of their anti-country mindset, I’ve “tricked” them into liking country. See, genres like bluegrass grew closely out of Scots-Irish folk music. Often, we’re playing the same tunes on both sides of the Atlantic. So I play a few instrumentals, my friend goes, “Oh! I love Celtic music
The biases against those demographics color how people view the music. There’s endless things that can be said about hip-hop bias, holy shit. I won’t focus on that today because I don’t believe I am qualified to be a spokesman. Someone who understands that genre better, and other genres associated with the African-American community, and is African-American, would be a better human to listen to than me. I defer to their knowledge and experience. It’s hella important to understand what bias has been reflected against those genres.
But there’s just as much bias against country music, against another demographic. And I’ve found it wild how it gets treated on places like tumblr, which wants to stand up for underprivileged groups, but somewhat inaccurately associates country music as “anti-gay conservative evil white person music” rather than music of people historically of lower socioeconomic status.
Yes, some of the demographic that listens to country music or plays country music are bad apples. But like… thinking the music is JUST THAT is a huge disservice to what country actually is and who the music artists actually are.
The history of country music is one giant collaborative melting pot of people from many different cultural backgrounds. Broad West African influence. Mexican influence. Italian influence. German influence. Scots-Irish influence. Cherokee influence. More. Early record labels like OKEH foolishly separated “hillbilly music” (presumably white folk music) from “rhythm and blues” (presumably Black folk music) without understanding the constant racial, demographic, regional, and cultural cross-pollination that occurred between the musicians from country music’s origins. And while there ARE certain issues in country music’s past and present, and we can’t let those issues go forgotten, that’s far from the whole story. We shouldn’t romanticize issues, but we should acknowledge that this music genre has given us major strides too.
Country music is the banjo, brought from Africa, combined with the mandolin, brought from Italy, combined with the fiddle, brought from Ireland, combined with the guitar and the dobro and the accordion and the upright bass and the electric guitar and the electric bass and whatever instruments you want to put in there.
Country music is African-American musicians like DeFord Bailey, the first radio star ever introduced on the Grand Ole Opry (THE most revered country music hub out there), blues harmonica performer, playing to crowds decades before segregation was de-legalized. He toured with white Opry musicians who treated him as one of their own. It’s soul music genre pioneer Ray Charles producing a studio album entirely dedicated to country music hits like “Hey Good Lookin’” from Hank Williams. It’s country star Charley Pride, who despite the racism against him in the 1960s rose to fame and made audiences fall in love with his beautiful voice. It’s the African-American musicians who inspired many commercial country stars, like Arnold Shultz influencing Bill Monroe and the railroad workers inspiring Jimmie Rodgers.
Country music is stars like Johnny Rodriguez and Rick Treviño, singing country music in Spanish, and using obvious Latin flavors in the genre.
Country music is filled with badass women like the ladies who STARTED THE GENRE ROLLING IN THE FIRST PLACE, Sara Carter and Mother Maybelle Carter (whose guitar style is hugely influential to this day) and Maybelle’s daughters Helen, June, and Anita; the first female music manager in the music industry, Louise Scruggs; songwriters like Felice Bryant and Loretta Lynn; the most awarded female artist in Grammy history Alison Krauss; and powerhouses like Dolly Parton who stepped out of an over-controlling entertainer’s shadow to become a badass in all things like supporting the LGBTQ community, contributing to pro-transgender films ahead of their time, and starring in sex worker positive productions like “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.”
Country music is filled with activism. Johnny Cash showed a heart for those forgotten by society. He toured many times in prisons. Cash especially was an activist for Native American rights. He toured with Native American songwriters so audiences could hear their own words (I’ve been trying to find names but I’m having difficulties re-finding that information, so my apologies for not giving names of those who deserve to be mentioned). Cash released albums dedicated to exposing past and present injustices against the Native American people. He went on tours specifically to Native American reservations. 
And it’s not just Johnny Cash!
Country music is many stars from the Grand Ole Opry banding together to release AIDS benefit albums - big names like Alison Krauss, Willie Nelson, Marty Stuart, aurgh I’m too lazy to write them all, PEOPLE.
Country music is Earl Scruggs and his sons playing at the Vietnam War Protests.
Country music is tied in with the fucking folk revival of the 1960s, which was deep in left-wing activism and the Civil Rights Movement. Folk singers sang traditional Appalachian and English ballads alongside their own compositions, topical pieces protesting the current political situation. You can call one artist “folk” or “Americana” and another one “country,” but the influences were intermingling, and it’s why we have Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie and Joan Baez and John Denver and Pete Seeger owning a banjo that says, “This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender.”
Dammit, I have a full BOOK that discusses country music and political ties. 
There’s another book out there, which I haven’t read, that discusses the relationship between country music and the queer community, and how bias against country music is NOT as reflective of the listening demographic as we stereotype. I’ll take the word of one reviewer who said:
[Nadine Hubbs] explores country music lyrics, presenting a great deal of evidence suggesting that working class America is not inherently homophobic, but that as middle class cultural taste has changed to include formal acceptance of homosexuality, this process has included pinning homophobic ideas on the working class.
Country music is lyrics like this 1975 controversial song “The Pill”:
You wined me and dined meWhen I was your girlPromised if I’d be your wifeYou’d show me the worldBut all I’ve seen of this old worldIs a bed and a doctor billI’m tearing down your brooder house‘Cause now I’ve got the pillAll these years I’ve stayed at homeWhile you had all your funAnd every year that’s gone byAnother baby’s comeThere’s a-gonna be some changes madeRight here on nursery hillYou’ve set this chicken your last time‘Cause now I’ve got the pill
Country music is lyrics like this 2013 song that feels as relevant than ever:
If crooks are in charge, should we let them pick our pockets?If we don’t want trouble, should we not try to stop it?We could just sink into the quicksand slavery we’re born inBut fighting endless wars for greedy liars is getting pretty boringThey think they got us trained, so we’ll think we’re living freeIf we got time and money for junk food and TVBut it’s plain honest people never stand a chance of winning electionsThey just let us pick which liars take our rights away for our own protectionThe corporate propaganda paralyzes us with fearDestroying our ability to trustFear keeps us fighting with each other over scrapsStarving to death in the dustOrganized religion really helps you submitBut the meek are inheriting the short end of the stickFear surrounds compassion like a layer of moldAnd weakens our defenses so we’re too weak to be boldLife could be heaven, but this corrupted systemTakes away our rights, expects us not to miss themThe middle class is shrinking while the lower class growsIf we don’t wake up soon, we’ll have no class left to lose
Country music is Christians themselves criticizing the hypocritical Evangelical culture in the USA for the bullshit hatefulness stewing inside it:
Every house has got a Bible and a loaded gunWe got preachers and politicians‘Round here it’s kinda hard to tell which oneIs gonna do more talkin’ with a crooked tongue
And as that one post I just reblogged shows, there’s MANY queer country musicians out there producing explicitly pro-LGBTQ+ music.
I’m brushing over so much. I’m sorry for the simplification that goes with me doing such a pass-by overview. I’m sorry I’m focusing more on history than the present (I know more about the 1920s-1960s eras, so I’m talking from my strong suit). I hope the information is at least strong enough to get my point across.
There are definitely listeners and artists in country music who are uber-conservative white hateful Christians. Yes. I know why country music gets associated with that. But.
Country music is not ABOUT this uber-conservative white hateful Christian side. The genre is not “polluted”. It is a thousand voices from a thousand perspectives of people from many backgrounds and beliefs. And many of those thousand voices are old traditional songs that came from Black communities, or were composed by Mexican-Americans, or were performed by folk artists as part of a protest for equal rights. 
(Note: I’m *NOT* saying all Christians are bad or that different political angles don’t have merits. I’m Christian myself! And you don’t know my political party. I’m just trying to get the point across that country music isn’t ENTRENCHED in one questionable demographic.)
You don’t have to like country music. It doesn’t have to be your aesthetic. But if you find it fun to get in on society’s popular country hate roasting… please rethink this. The reason country music has been hated from its roots is because it’s associated with the socioeconomically disadvantaged.
I’m with you 100%, Ashley. When someone says they like all genres “except country music and rap,” I get a little leery. I used to be one of those people when I was younger. I had to learn to grow past those biases. But once I did, I realized there was so much I was hating on that I didn’t understand. Now, I hope I can help people overcome their own biases, such as ones they don’t realize they’ve had - for things like music.
Hi ya’lls. I’m queer and I love country.
P.S. If anyone has anything to add or correct, please feel free to add on! I’m doing my best but I do not know everything and would be happy to learn more, too!
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my18thcenturysource · 4 years
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How important was French in the English gentry and aristocracy classes?
Well, hello! (read please in the voice of Eva Green), the fast answer to this is: pretty much for appearances and practical reasons, but many did not managed to master the language.
(This was supposed to be a short response to this ask and well, it ended as a long LONG post. You all have been warned (ohohohohohoho).
Now, this is the LONG answer:
The French language have been an important part in the courts of England since the Norman Conquest in 1066 (Flashback to the Middle Ages!), when French was used at court and by the aristocracy, clergy, and law courts. I mean, the Normans were French, therefore they spoke French, BUT it was not the language of the common people, they spoke English (kind of, or more properly, the Middle Ages version of English, Old English and then Middle English). In the 13th century the French territories of the Norman king were lost, and the high class became more focused in their English lands. With the black plague in 1349-50, 1/3 of the English population died and the English language rose with the dead of Latin and French speaking clergy and the rise of the middle class. English finally became the official language in courts and Parliament in 1362.
Making a wild jump forward to the 18th century, French was taught to the aristocracy, and it was important in intellectual circles, and was a language largely taught in other European courts even before the 17th century (let’s remember that in the 18th century, France became the major European power replacing Spain), since the French cultural influence in the continent was (and still is, worldwide) very strong, being considered the cultural, learning, and fashion centre of Europe, and of course the French nobility was married with a lot of European nobility.
What does this even mean? Well, if you wanted to learn anything in the illustration period, you had to know French and Latin. If you wanted to learn dance, all the books  were in French (until they started to be translated into English); if you wanted to know the latest fashions, you had to know French to read the magazines… and there’s a long etcetera. Even the treaties of Ultrecht, Rastatt, and Baden (which ended the War of Spanish Succession) were written in French, it was the language of global diplomacy and commerce. Think of it as we nowadays think of English: if you’re from Mexico, Congo, Poland, Japan, or wherever, you’re expected to know English and you know that a lot of academic and business doors are going to be closed if you do not speak the language.
Now, let’s move to Britain where  French was considered to be a light, clear Language, and in contrast, English was energetic and warm, therefore both were suited for the Enlightenment agenda. But, also thinking about the conflicts between both countries, many Britons (especially some Tories) dismissed the French language at all, to the point that fluency in any foreign language was reason for mistrust (yeii monolingual patriotism #not), and being bilingual could be a dangerous ability in the age of intrigue, espionage and war.
Philip Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield, used French words constantly in his letters, not only was he bilingual but he also managed to be very critical of the French manners and attitudes, like seen here in a 1751 letter to his illegitimate son:
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But as the 18th century advanced, the middle class was rising along with their desire to be perceived as refined, they also looked for the learning of French, not to be fluent in the French court, but to raise their social status within Britain itself. This way, French was often taught in schools and at home, along other prized artistic skills like drawing, singing and dancing, being especially important for girls’ education, because boys were supposed to be taught “manly” languages, like Latin and Greek (modern European languages like Italian and French were for women).
French was a way to show polished social graces for the élite and middle classes, but it was not the only reason for desiring to learn: for the ones directly involved with the Industrial Revolution, the French language was a pragmatic choice to have a bigger market in Europe and North America, making business-related French to be learnt by tradesmen, manufacturers, and entrepreneurs, often using self-learning textbooks (like an 18th century Duolingo), like “Grammar of the French Tongue”, by Louis Chambaud (1750), but this could result in a perfect mastering of the reading and writing, and have absolutely no idea about the pronunciation, like the Scottish encyclopaedist William Smellie. This became so important for the industrial cities, that sometimes they favoured the teaching of French over Latin and Greek in schools.
Even with the options of learning, it was widely recognised that to be flawlessly proficient in French, you should live in France for a while, or the services of a native speaker were required. The Grand Tour would be a solution for the first one, making a particular kind of literature to flourish with popular and influential works like Tobias Smollett’s “Travels Through France and Italy” (1766), or John Moore’s “A View of Society and Manners in France, Switzerland and Germany” (1779). The ultimate purpose of the Grand Tour was for the aspiring gentlemen to acquire cultural refinement, that of course included perfecting their French. Now, being overseas was not always perfectly accepted, because, according to some Britons, some people returned to England as Catholics if they stayed in France for long enough, creating an aversion to their own country (me, laughing in Catholic).
So, to avoid the “dangers” of living abroad, a native speaking teachers were required. These men and women, French teachers at schools and governesses living in British homes, were often émigrés (especially after 1789, because you know, people liked their heads where they were supposed to be), with credentials hard to check, and of course Catholics (terrifying!). And if we add the fact that some of the most famous French people in the 18th century were atheists (Diderot, Rousseau, Voltaire), that was even worse.
Anyway, even though the French language was surrounded of misconceptions, and class and education related status, even the most prominent writers, intellectuals, and politicians, could feel insecure and embarrassed by their lack of proficiency in the language. Like Horace Walpole, who despite being educated at Eton and King’s College Cambridge, confessed to Lady Hervey in 1765 that, when chatting in Parisian salons, he was “hampered in bad French”; or Edmund Burke, who in 1791 confided that he was ashamed “of the bad French which I speak”.
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In Resume:
So, as a resume of all this answer that ended up being a LONG post, here some key facts about the French Language in England during the 18th century:
It was the international language of the 18th century, spoke in European courts, in business meetings, and used for the writing of treaties.
It was considered appropriate for polite conversation.
A sign of refinement, education and sophistication.
Associated to gracefulness and good breeding.
People were supposed to imitate and know the French manners, and use them in few occasions, like while in France, but adapt to the locals in other places.
Since languages were gendered (like taken from r/pointlesslygendered), French was considered effeminate and foppish, being very refined, but lacking strength (of course the Brits did not know what to say after The Terror and Napoleon happened). Girls were supposed to learn modern European languages like French and Italian, and boys would learn “manly languages” like Latin and Greek.
It was a basic in the aristocratic education, and was expected to be learnt and mastered.
Aristocracy would learn French with native speakers at school, at home, or while traveling and living in Europe.
The middle class would learn though books, school, and if was possible, living abroad.
The use of the language chances with class: aristocrats would use French while traveling, in polite conversation at home, and at courts in Europe, especially France; the middle class would use it for business and learning of new technologies and science.
Sources to learn more:
TheHistoryOfEnglish.com
“The French Language and British Literature”, by Marcus Tomalin, Routledge, 2006.
“The long adieu: how Britain gave up learning French“, by Ed West, The Guardian 2016.
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caddyxjellyby · 6 years
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Alcott Readathon 2018: An Old-Fashioned Girl (1869)
Alcott’s third or fourth depending on how you count Good Wives novel, featuring cane-shaking, a menage a trois, and America’s favorite fighting Frenchman. Polly Arrives Fanny tells Tom to pick up Polly from the station. Tom says "She'll think you cared more about your frizzles than your friends, and she'll be about right, too." Fanny says "If I was the President, I'd make a law to shut up all boys till they were grown; for they certainly are the most provoking toads in the world." I wonder what Tom means by wearing a thingumbob? A veil maybe? The naughty boy tells Polly the hack-driver is tipsy so he won’t have to sit with her. It boggles my mind that a fourteen year old would refer to herself as a “little girl.” I suppose back them children didn’t have to bend over backwards to be taken seriously. That is, if you refer to yourself as a little girl people won’t take you seriously. But if they just do it as a given you don’t bend over backwards to earn it. Polly sings for Madam Shaw, the grandmother, and they talk about how they were brought up properly unlike the Shaw siblings. Madam Shaw doesn’t approve of children calling their father Papa. What the fuck. I bet “the old man” would make her spontaneously combust. The girls see a vulgar play; Polly doesn’t understand half the jokes, and the girls on stage are dressed as jockeys, which I think means wearing trousers. Scandalous. Madam Shaw praises her innocence.
New Fashions
Apparently eyeglasses were trendy in 1869. Polly follows Fanny to school, where the girls gossip about Carrie who ran away with an Italian music teacher.
Fanny: "I like to read about such things; but it's so inconvenient to have it happen right here, because it makes it harder for us. I wish you could have heard my papa go on. He threatened to send a maid to school with me every day, as they do in New York, to be sure I come all right. Did you ever?"
Belle: "That's because it came out that Carrie used to forge excuses in her mamma's name, and go promenading with her Oreste, when they thought her safe at school. Oh, wasn't she a sly minx?"
Trix: "I think a little fun is all right; and there's no need of making a talk, if, now and then, some one does run off like Carrie. Boys do as they like; and I don't see why girls need to be kept so dreadfully close. I'd like to see anybody watching and guarding me!" GO TRIX KEEPING GIRLS THE SLIGHTEST BIT “CLOSER’ THAN BOYS IS PSYCHOLOGICALLY HARMFUL AND DISRESPECTFUL. ...I have a lot of feels about gender and child-rearing, okay? Okay. The constant ads for the Blockers movie keep bringing it to mind. (Kathryn Newton, the most recent Amy March, is in it.) The Bostonians gush over some exciting novels; Polly doesn’t know them. Polly: "My mother says a real gentleman is as polite to a little girl as to a woman; so I like Mr. Sydney best, because he was kind to me." I want that embroidered. “Polly was not a model girl by any means” Sure, Louisa. The kids say ain’t a lot. Creosote sent my mind straight to Discworld. Polly’s Troubles Polly wished the children would be kinder to grandma; but it was not for her to tell them so, although it troubled her a good deal, and she could only try to make up for it by being as dutiful and affectionate as if their grandma was her own. Awww. The fact that they name their sleds is adorable. Me, I’ve never been a person to name inanimate objects, other than occasionally referring to something as the precious. Fan reads Lady Audley’s Secret. "I shouldn't think you'd make him laugh, when he's always making you cwy," observed Maud, who had just come in. Good one, Maud. Little Things Polly is a perfect child who can do no wrong, except spend some money on bronze boots instead of presents for her family. We learn that she has a dead brother named Jimmy. They studied Latin together so she helps Tom with his. Tom falls off his new velocipede and hits his head. Polly holds it while a doctor gives him stitches. Scrapes AFTER being unusually good, children are apt to turn short round and refresh themselves by acting like Sancho. For a week after Tom's mishap, the young folks were quite angelic, so much so that grandma said she was afraid "something was going to happen to them." I kind of loathe this line of thinking? If you want children to be good, don’t insult them by not trusting them. Polly, if you’ve never had to lie to your parents then you know you have good parents, and not everybody is like you. A boy sends Fanny flowers and that’s unacceptable. “I'll send you to school in a Canadian convent,” says Mr. Shaw. Oh boy. Tom dresses up in Fanny’s outfit, then they and Maud look at Polly’s journal, which is full of sketches of the family and friends, and Polly’s thoughts on Fan. If she would be as she was when I first knew her, I should love her just the same; but she isn't kind to me; and though she is always talking about politeness, I don't think it is polite to treat company as she does me. She thinks I am odd and countrified, and I dare say I am; but I shouldn't laugh at a girl's clothes because she was poor, or keep her out of the way because she didn't do just as other girls do here. I see her make fun of me, and I can't feel as I did; and I'd go home, only it would seem ungrateful to Mr. Shaw and grandma, and I do love them dearly." Grandma Tom was reposing on the sofa with his boots in the air, absorbed in one of those delightful books in which boys are cast away on desert islands, where every known fruit, vegetable and flower is in its prime all the year round; or, lost in boundless forests, where the young heroes have thrilling adventures, kill impossible beasts, and, when the author's invention gives out, suddenly find their way home, laden with tiger skins, tame buffaloes and other pleasing trophies of their prowess. The Shaw kids find Polly up in Grandma’s room, listening to her stories. They’re like you never told us that story and Grandma’s like you never asked. "At eight o'clock on the appointed evening, several of us professed great weariness, and went to our room, leaving the rest sewing virtuously with Miss Cotton, who read Hannah More's Sacred Dramas aloud, in a way that fitted the listeners for bed as well as a dose of opium would have done.”Surprisingly snarky Grandma. "Wait for your turn, Tommy. Now, Polly, dear, what will you have?" said grandma, looking, so lively and happy, that it was very evident "reminiscing" did her good. "Let mine come last, and tell one for Tom next," said Polly, looking round, and beckoning him nearer. Oh come on now Polly. Tom wants to shoot cats? Okay. Polly asks about a glove; Grandma tells the story of Lafayette kissing the glove with his picture on it and then kissing her on the cheek to avoid that. Grandma’s Aunt was married to John Hancock, just like Abigail Alcott’s grand-aunt was married to him in real life. Also she thinks leg o’mutton sleeves are beautiful and becoming. Let’s not hold it against her. Colonel May, that’s LMA’s grandfather. Next we go even further back in history - Grandma produces a letter “written by Anne Boleyn before her marriage to Henry VIII, and now in the possession of a celebrated antiquarian.” How she acquired this letter is not explained, and it does seem to be the original letter and not a copy. Good-by [sic] We get it, Louisa, you think fancy clothes are sinful. They hold a going-away party for Polly, inviting some girls to keep Maud out of the way and Tom’s school-friends, Rumple, Sherry, and Spider. Polly and Tom open the redowa; he’s bad at keeping time to the music, like me. She doesn’t know how to dance the German so she plays with the little girls in the library. Aww, they snuck presents for her family in Polly’s trunk. Six Years Afterward "WHAT do you think Polly is going to do this winter?" exclaimed Fanny, looking up from the letter she had been eagerly reading. She’s returning to Boston to teach music. Mr. Shaw respects her for being independent. Tom says she’s pretty in a moment of foreshadowing. Madam Shaw has died. "Where did you learn so much worldly wisdom, Polly?" asked Mr. Shaw, as his wife fell back in her chair, and took out her salts, as if this discovery had been too much for her. "I learnt it here, sir," answered Polly, laughing. "I used to think patronage and things of that sort very disagreeable and not worth having, but I've got wiser, and to a certain extent I'm glad to use whatever advantages I have in my power, if they can be honestly got." What is this, the Shaws doing something good for once? Holy hell! “You must come and see my pets, Maud, for my cat and bird live together as happily as brother and sister," said Polly, turning to Maud, who devoured every word she said. "That's not saying much for them," muttered Tom, feeling that Polly ought to address more of her conversation to him. Geez, Tom, entitled much? Tom is engaged to Trix. Polly keeps bees at her country home. It must be so nice to be able to clean without the paranoia that you’re going to get mocked for doing it wrong. All hail living alone! Lessons Polly finds her drudgery a bit harder than she expected but her pupils love her. She found Fanny enduring torment under the hands of the hair-dresser, who was doing his best to spoil her hair, and distort her head with a mass of curls, braids, frizzles, and puffs; for though I discreetly refrain from any particular description, still, judging from the present fashions, I think one may venture to predict that six years hence they would be something frightful. The problem with writing books set in the future. Polly comes home one day to find her landlady, Miss Mills, sewing a dress for Jane, who also lives in the boarding-house and tried to kill herself because she couldn’t find work that paid enough for the rent. Polly goes to visit Jane. Brothers and Sisters Polly’s brother Will visits her every Sunday and they’re BFFs. Tom hates being called Carrots; I want an Anne of Green Gables crossover. Maud informs him that Polly thinks he’s handsomer than Mr. Sydney. "Don't make such a noise, my head aches dreadfully," said Fanny, fretfully. "Girls' heads always do ache," answered Tom, subsiding from a roar into a chuckle. Um, fuck you Tom. He suspects Trix of wearing makeup because she won’t let him kiss her cheek, only “an unsatisfactory peck at her lips.” That’s less satisfying than the cheek? Whatever you say, Tom. Fanny confirms it. He doesn’t approve. Will arrives to take Maud to Polly’s; LMA gets a dig in: “They were very good friends, but led entirely different lives, Will being a "dig," and Tom a "bird," or, in plain English, one was a hard student, and the other a jolly young gentleman. Tom had rather patronized Will, who didn't like it, and showed that he didn't by refusing to borrow money of him, or accept any of his invitations to join the clubs and societies to which Tom belonged. So Shaw let Milton alone, and he got on very well in his own way, doggedly sticking to his books, and resisting all temptations but those of certain libraries, athletic games, and such inexpensive pleasures as were within his means; for this benighted youth had not yet discovered that college nowadays is a place in which to "sky-lark," not to study.” We'll see more of that when we get to Jo’s Boys. Polly talks better than other girls who are coquettes. Seriously. Jesus Christ. Maud has “a talent for betraying trifles which people preferred should not be mentioned in public” and “a queer way of going on with her own thoughts, and suddenly coming out with whatever lay uppermost, regardless of time, place, or company.” Huh. Needles and Tongues Fanny’s sewing circle meets at the Shaw house. Polly listens to them gossip. “Another divulged the awful fact that Carrie P.' s wedding presents were half of them hired for the occasion.” That’s pretty funny. Polly and Trix butt heads over giving charity. “[Trix] felt the same antagonism toward Polly, that Polly did toward her; and, being less generous, took satisfaction in plaguing her. Polly did not know that the secret of this was the fact that Tom often held her up as a model for his fiance to follow, which caused that young lady to dislike her more than ever.” I am not entirely unsympathetic to Trix. Polly tells them about Jane and they’re very moved and resolve to hire her for sewing. Forbidden Fruit Polly, Fanny, and Tom go to the opera. Polly buys new gloves for the occasion and their dog chews them up and she’s like serves me right for buying something I didn’t need. Her new bonnet survives, though, and Tom mentions how becoming it is. "Dress that girl up, and she'd be a raving, tearing beauty," he whispers to Maud, and Polly overhears. A bit of sarcastic fourth wall breaking: I deeply regret being obliged to shock the eyes and ears of such of my readers as have a prejudice in favor of pure English by expressions like the above, but, having rashly undertaken to write a little story about Young America, for Young America, I feel bound to depict my honored patrons as faithfully as my limited powers permit. Otherwise, I must expect the crushing criticism, "Well, I dare say it's all very prim and proper, but it isn't a bit like us," and never hope to arrive at the distinction of finding the covers of "An Old-Fashioned Girl" the dirtiest in the library. Polly wears her hair down, holy shit. Maud comments on what a lovely bride she would be, Tom refers to her as “Mrs. Sydney,” and Fan goes to the carriage “in an usually lofty manner.” Love triangle ahoy. And who should appear at the opera but Arthur Sydney? Polly, on her reaction to heartbreak: "That's not my way either," she said decidedly. "I'd try to outlive it, and if I could n't, I'd try to be the better for it. Disappointment needn't make a woman a fool." Sounds like Rosamund. We are reminded that French novels are evil, and Polly calls Tom a modern Beau Brummel. The Sunny Side Fanny and Tom discuss Polly/Sydney. Tom thinks being a fine lady wouldn’t suit her; Fanny disagrees. Tom realizes his sister likes Sydney and says nothing about it. Polly introduces Fanny to her friends Becky and Bess, two artists who live together. Becky is sculpting “the coming woman” and needs to put a symbol in her hands. Fanny suggests a queen’s sceptre, Polly a man’s helping hand, and Bess a child. Becky turns those down. Kate, an accidentally successful author, suggests a ballot-box. They have a lunch of sardines, oranges, crackers, and cheese, on mismatched plates which one 1860s reviewer found too unfeminine to be realistic. We learn that "Bess is to be married in the spring, and Becky is to live with her." Kate wants to put Polly in a book. Very funny.
Nipped in the Bud Polly inner monologues about how she can’t love Arthur Sydney as a wife should, so she ought to tell him before he proposes. Particularly since he and Fan would suit each other. She changes her route home so as to avoid meeting him, then he sees her coming home from Fanny’s one day and they talk. He says that Fanny hasn’t improved with her years and Polly defends her friend. “She puts on that dashing air before people to hide her real self. But I know her better; and I assure you that she does improve; she tries to mend her faults, though she won't own it, and will surprise you someday, by the amount of heart and sense and goodness she has got." Breakers Ahead Tom gets expelled for knocking down the Chapel watchmen. At least he didn’t need that degree for a job. And Mr. Shaw’s business has failed, and Tom has acquired a significant amount of debt. Oh no. Polly comforts him and then Fanny, who doesn’t actually need much comforting, being glad for the distraction from her unrequited love. Indian cake . . . is that cornbread? A Dress Parade The big house was given up as soon as possible and the little house taken; being made comfortable with the furniture Madam left there when she went to live with her son. The old-fashioned things had been let with the house, and now seemed almost like a gift from Grandma, doubly precious in these troublous times. At the auction, several persons tried to show the family that, though they had lost their fortune, friends still remained, for one bid in Fanny's piano, and sent it to her; another secured certain luxurious articles for Mrs. Shaw's comfort; and a third saved such of Mr. Shaw's books as he valued most, for he had kept his word and given up everything, with the most punctilious integrity. Maud enjoys herself learning to housewife. Polly gives Fanny advice on freshening her wardrobe, such as turning her grey suit. Fanny used to give Maud her old dresses for tableaux. Polly’s story is based on real life. From LMA’s ”Recollections of My Childhood”: People wondered at our frolics, but enjoyed them; and droll stories are still told of the adventures of those days. Mr. Emerson and Margaret Fuller were visiting my parents one afternoon; and the conversation having turned to the ever-interesting subject of education, Miss Fuller said,-- "Well, Mr. Alcott, you have been able to carry out your methods in your own family, and I should like to see your model children." She did in a few moments,--for as the guests stood on the doorsteps a wild uproar approached, and round the corner of the house came a wheelbarrow holding baby May arrayed as a queen; I was the horse, bitted and bridled, and driven by my elder sister Anna, while Lizzie played dog and barked as loud as her gentle voice permitted. All were shouting, and wild with fun, which, however, came to a sudden end as we espied the stately group before us, for my foot tripped, and down we all went in a laughing heap, while my mother put a climax to the joke by saying with a dramatic wave of the hand,-- "Here are the model children, Miss Fuller!" Playing Grandmother Tom has a harder time than his sisters. He’s too bad at business to help his father so he hangs out with Mrs. Shaw. "I'd cut away to Australia if it wasn't for mother; anything, anywhere to get out of the way of people who know me. I never can right myself here, with all the fellows watching, and laying wagers whether I sink or swim. Hang Greek and Latin! wish I'd learned a trade, and had something to fall back upon. Haven't a blessed thing now, but decent French and my fists.” Oh my gosh I think Tom’s a millennial. Polly teaches Maud how to make raisin cake for Tom’s birthday. He receives two letters: one from Trix dumping him, and one from Arthur Sydney saying that’s he’s paid Tom’s debts. Tom, unwilling to owe him, decides to go West, young man, like Polly’s brother Ned. The Woman Who Did Not Dare POLLY wrote enthusiastically, Ned answered satisfactorily, and after much corresponding, talking, and planning, it was decided that Tom should go West. Never mind what the business was; it suffices to say that it was a good beginning for a young man like Tom, who, having been born and bred in the most conservative class of the most conceited city in New England, needed just the healthy, hearty, social influences of the West to widen his views and make a man of him. Polly goes home for the summer, Maud to the shore with Belle, and Fan stays home. I’m pretty sure Polly lives in Concord. Does she know the Marches? She returns to Boston in the fall and Fanny says have you been sick? No, it’s love. Polly gives vague answers and Fan replies that she thinks Sydney is starting to like her. She shows Polly a photo Tom sent and Polly’s face makes her go Aha. Winter passes, and in May Fan and Sydney get engaged. Tom’s Success "Come, Philander, let us be a marching, Every one his true love a searching," would be the most appropriate motto for this chapter, because, intimidated by the threats, denunciations, and complaints showered upon me in consequence of taking the liberty to end a certain story as I liked, I now yield to the amiable desire of giving satisfaction, and, at the risk of outraging all the unities, intend to pair off everybody I can lay my hands on. Tom comes home and tells Polly he loves her. "Now, Tom, how could I know you loved me when you went away and never said a word?" she began, in a tenderly reproachful tone, thinking of the hard year she had spent. "And how could I have the courage to say a word, when I had nothing on the face of the earth to offer you but my worthless self?" answered Tom, warmly. "That was all I wanted!" whispered Polly, in a tone which caused him to feel that the race of angels was not entirely extinct. I suppose if I liked Tom more the romance might work for me but I don’t and it doesn’t. Neither pairing seems to happen naturally, the narrative forces them together. Will marries Jane and Maud remains a spinster, “[keeping] house for her father in the most delightful manner.” The End and I’m glad of it! Next is Little Men.
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wiremagazine · 5 years
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CALM DOWN, IT'S THE MTV VIDEO MUSIC AWARDS WITH OUR FAVORITE DIVAS, DIVOS & FRESH NEW ARTISTS!
By DJ FR8-O
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The world's most unpredictable awards show just threw us another curveball. Hosting this year's hottest night in music is comedian and actor Sebastian Maniscalco. Yeah, never heard of him either, but the outspoken Italian is ready to bring the laughs and the chutzpah back into the VMAs. Joining him will be all our favorite divas, divos and fresh new artists who've been dominating our playlists over the last 12 months. This year's ceremony is going to be a battle of the pop princesses with both Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift snatching 10 nominations each. Who will take home the most Moon Persons is yet to be seen, but here are my top picks.  
BEST NEW ARTIST Ava Max Billie Eilish H.E.R. Lil Nas X Rosalía
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Lizzo It may seem like Lizzo just came out of nowhere and went straight to the front of the class, but she's been schooling her fans since she was 14 years old. In an industry that puts so much pressure on image and tries to hide flaws with photoshop and camera tricks, Lizzo celebrates her curves and literally puts it all out there. Her confidence is only overshadowed by her talent, with a stream of hits and sold-out shows over the past year.  
BEST COLLABORATION BTS (featuring Halsey): "Boy with Luv" Lil Nas X (featuring Billy Ray Cyrus): "Old Town Road (Remix)" Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello: "Señorita" Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber: "I Don't Care" Taylor Swift (featuring Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco): "Me!"
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Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper: "Shallow" As if she wasn't jaw-droppingly gifted all on her own, no one has ever brought the on-screen chemistry as Gaga and Cooper did in the big-screen blockbuster A Star is Born. The heat was so intense that it raised suspicions of the two being more than just co-stars. While those rumors have since been squashed, I still get a few raised hairs every time I hear their duet from the diva's Oscar-winning film.
BEST POP 5 Seconds of Summer: "Easier" Cardi B and Bruno Mars: "Please Me" Billie Eilish: "Bad Guy" Ariana Grande: "Thank U, Next" Khalid: "Talk" Taylor Swift: "You Need to Calm Down"
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Jonas Brothers: "Sucker" Everyone has their opinion of what makes a great pop song, or in this case a great pop video, but I'm sure you would agree that Nick soaking in a claw foot tub and Joe tied up in his underwear would be somewhere at the top of the list. Not only does this earworm bury deep into your brain with its throwback vibe and razor-sharp hook, but watching these guys all grown up and having more fun than ever makes this clip as timeless as the track. Did I mention the bathtub?
BEST HIP HOP 21 Savage (featuring J. Cole): "A Lot" Cardi B: "Money" DJ Khaled (featuring Nipsey Hussle and John Legend): "Higher" Lil Nas X (featuring Billy Ray Cyrus): "Old Town Road (Remix)" Travis Scott (featuring Drake): "Sicko Mode"
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2 Chainz (featuring Ariana Grande): "Rule the World" Is there nothing that Ari can't do? It's hard to tell who the actual guest artist is on this track, but are we really surprised? Even during her early days on "Bang Bang," she managed to hold her own with two powerhouse divas. Now it looks like she's the one bringing the noise.
BEST R&B Childish Gambino: "Feels Like Summer" H.E.R. (featuring Bryson Tiller): "Could've Been" Alicia Keys: "Raise a Man" Normani (featuring 6lack): "Waves" Anderson .Paak (featuring Smokey Robinson): "Make It Better"
Ella Mai: "Trip" After a 13 year absence from the show, the R&B category is back! Maybe it's because of the genre's resurgence into mainstream music; but whatever the reason, it's opening doors to a whole new pool of talent that may otherwise be overlooked, like this incredibly gifted and well-deserved artist.
BEST LATIN Anuel AA and Karol G: "Secreto" Benny Blanco, Tainy, Selena Gomez and J Balvin: "I Can't Get Enough" Daddy Yankee (featuring Snow): "Con Calma" Maluma: "Mala Mía" Rosalía and J Balvin (featuring El Guincho): "Con Altura"
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Bad Bunny (featuring Drake): "Mia" Watching this video reminded me of growing up in Miami, and showing up at the impromptu house party that someone hosted while their parents were away. Of course, Drake never showed up to any of them, but of all the nominees, this one captures what everyday Latin life is really about, minus all the half-naked women.
BEST DANCE The Chainsmokers (featuring Bebe Rexha): "Call You Mine" Clean Bandit (featuring Demi Lovato): "Solo" DJ Snake (featuring Selena Gomez, Ozuna and Cardi B): "Taki Taki" David Guetta, Bebe Rexha and J Balvin: "Say My Name" Marshmello and Bastille: "Happier"
Silk City and Dua Lipa: "Electricity" Music trends will come and go, but classic house will never go out of style. These guys took the essence of "Show Me Love" and "Finally" and weaved it into a track that's as fresh as it is nostalgic. Throw in Lipa's sultry vocals weaving a hypnotic melody and you've got yourself a dance anthem that no one can resist.
VIDEO FOR GOOD Jamie N Commons and Skylar Grey (featuring Gallant): "Runaway Train" Halsey: "Nightmare" The Killers: "Land of the Free" John Legend: "Preach" Lil Dicky: "Earth"
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Taylor Swift: "You Need to Calm Down" It can't be a coincidence that this category debuted the same year as this track. In a time when LGBTQ lives are being attacked – physically and politically – on the daily, it's refreshing and inspiring to see an artist take a stand and put her influence where her mouth is. Not only is the track brilliantly written, but I haven't seen that many LGBTQ icons together since the Tony Awards.
BEST DIRECTION Billie Eilish: "Bad Guy" (Director: Dave Meyers) FKA Twigs: "Cellophane" (Director: Andrew Thomas Huang) Ariana Grande: "Thank U, Next" (Director: Hannah Lux Davis) Lil Nas X (featuring Billy Ray Cyrus): "Old Town Road (Remix)" (Director: Calmatic) LSD: "No New Friends" (Director: Dano Cerny)
Taylor Swift: "You Need to Calm Down" (Director: Taylor Swift and Drew Kirsch) Okay, I know what you're thinking, "this queen must be a huge T-Swift fan, so he's voting for her in every category." Quite the contrary, actually. I've always been pretty lukewarm when it comes to the country-turned-pop singer, but any director that could wrangle that many divas in one video shoot and not end up on the nightly news deserves a trophy.
BEST VISUAL EFFECTS DJ Khaled (featuring SZA): "Just Us" (Visual Effects: GloriaFX, Sergii Mashevskyi and Anatolli Kuzmytskyi) Billie Eilish: "When the Party's Over" (Visual Effects: Ryan Ross and Andres Jaramillo) FKA Twigs: "Cellophane" (Visual Effects: Analog) Ariana Grande: "God Is a Woman" (Visual Effects: Fabrice Lagayette at Mathematic) LSD: "No New Friends" (Visual Effects: Ethan Chancer)
Taylor Swift (featuring Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco): "Me!" (Visual Effects: Loris Paillier and Lucas Salton for BUF VFX) I'd hand over the award for this vid just for the visual of a smoldering Brendon Urie alone, but if you've seen the clip you know the allure is more than just his pretty face. Reminiscent of a modern Moulin Rouge, the screen oozes with splashes of color, action and special effects galore, from start to finish.  
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BEST ART DIRECTION BTS (featuring Halsey): "Boy with Luv" (Art Directors: JinSil Park and BoNa Kim (MU:E) Ariana Grande: "7 Rings" (Art Director: John Richoux) Lil Nas X (featuring Billy Ray Cyrus): "Old Town Road (Remix)" (Art Director: Christian Zollenkopf for Prettybird) Taylor Swift: "You Need to Calm Down" (Art Director: Brittany Porter) Kanye West and Lil Pump (featuring Adele Givens): "I Love It" (Art Director: Tino Schaedler)
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Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello: "Señorita" (Art Director: Tatiana Van Sauter) In a world where videos are trying to be bigger, brighter and bolder than the last, it takes a good eye to keep things in the background simple and let the singers take the spotlight. Subtlety is an art in itself, especially when it's meant to help a love story unfold before your eyes. My only note is that we need to see more of Shawn in his Calvin Klein's next time.
BEST CHOREOGRAPHY FKA Twigs: "Cellophane" (Choreographer: Kelly Yvonne) LSD: "No New Friends" (Choreographer: Ryan Heffington) Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello: "Señorita" (Choreographer: Calvit Hodge) Rosalía and J Balvin (featuring El Guincho): "Con Altura" (Choreographer: Charm La'Donna) Solange: "Almeda" (Choreographers: Maya Taylor and Solange Knowles)
BTS (featuring Halsey): "Boy with Luv" (Choreographers: Son Sungdeuk and Quick Crew) K-pop isn't exactly on heavy rotation on my playlists, but I must give credit where credit is due. Sure, the competition shows some beautiful moves of their own, but this vid is all about color, dancing, and more dancing. Don't ask me what they're singing about, but I could tell they were having fun while singing it.
ARTIST OF THE YEAR Cardi B Billie Eilish Halsey Jonas Brothers Shawn Mendes
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Ariana Grande This may seem like I'm playing faves here, but if you take a look at all the work the other nominees have put out in the last year together, they still don't add up to the number of albums, singles, videos and collaborations Ari has checked off her to-do list. While it may not have been ground-breaking, and there's no doubt this award will actually go to Billie Eillish, no one can argue that this diva has put in more blood, sweat and tears this year than any other artist in the biz.
SONG OF THE YEAR Drake: "In My Feelings" Ariana Grande: "Thank U, Next" Jonas Brothers: "Sucker" Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper: "Shallow" Lil Nas X (featuring Billy Ray Cyrus): "Old Town Road (Remix)"
Taylor Swift: "You Need to Calm Down" Yeah, I'm going there again because this is an anthem we all need to hear and remember; not just this year, but for many years to come until the tables are turned, the planets are realigned and the haters finally take their seats for good.
VIDEO OF THE YEAR 21 Savage (featuring J. Cole): "A Lot" Billie Eilish: "Bad Guy" Ariana Grande: "Thank U, Next" Jonas Brothers: "Sucker" Lil Nas X (featuring Billy Ray Cyrus): "Old Town Road (Remix)"
Taylor Swift: "You Need to Calm Down" The same goes for the video! While others might have tried to battle hate with hate, Swift chose instead to take the high road, celebrate our community, shine a spotlight on some of our favorite LGBTQ icons and hold an honest mirror up at those with narrow minds. One little music video won't change the world overnight, but if it can inspire a new generation to think differently than the one before them, then that's something to get excited about.
The 2019 MTV Video Music Awards will air live from the Prudential Center in Newark on August 26th at 8 p.m. ET.  
This was originally published in Wire Magazine Issue 17.2019
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Summary: All about Georgette pretty much ahaha I had started this when I was trying to figure out who in the world I was going to end up with and finally finished it completely todayyy!!!!
Trigger Warnings: Rape
ORIGINS & FAMILY:
Name: Georgette Ryelyn Midler
Nickname: Close friends call her Georgie and are the only ones who are allowed to do so (she’s very particular with who can give her a nickname). Her dad calls her his Princess.
Reason for name: She was named after her paternal grandmother, who passed away when her father was very young
Birthday: October 25th, 1993
Age: Twenty-Three
Gender: Female
Place of birth: New York City, New York (Manhattan specifically)
Places lived since: Up until now that she lives in Swynlake, Georgette has only lived in NYC. She has vacationed and traveled practically every where though.
Parents’ names, backgrounds, occupations: William and Addison Midler. William is a famously known news anchor in NYC and Addison is currently a stay-at-home mother/wife. Addison was in the pageantry life and had won Miss America two years straight. It was in an interview about her win that William and Addison met and they had hit it off since then. On top of their careers, both of Georgette’s parents hail from old money.
Number of siblings: None, Georgette is the only princess
Relationship with family (close? estranged?): In the beginning, Georgette was very close, especially with her father (she was such a daddy’s little girl). Now, however, with making her stay quiet about her trauma and then practically shipping her off after their master plan of keeping quiet severely screwed their daughter up, Georgette has no relationship with either one of them.
Happiest memory: Her happiest memory was her very first pageant win because after that very first win Georgette practically took the pageant world by storm and even broke the record for the most wins to date.
Childhood trauma: Georgette’s childhood was absolutely beautiful. It was full of glamour, luxury, everything. There really wasn’t any kind of trauma in sight. That came later in life.
Children of his/her own?: None
If so, relationship with their mother/father?: N/A
Age he/she gave birth/became a father: N/A
PHYSICAL
Height: 5’ 7” (wow she’s actually pretty tall)
Weight: 120 lbs
Build: Slim
Nationality: American since she was born in the states.
Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): Georgette is currently suffering from PTSD, but she’s not exactly aware of it since she’s never been formally diagnosed with it. She is unstable as far as her spiraling is concerned haha. She’s taking into drinking, wouldn’t say she is an alcoholic, but the drinking does help her forget about her trauma.
Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birth marks): Georgette has clear and clean skin, currently without acne or any blemishes. She’s very into skin care and keeping on top of her own skin.
Distinguishing facial features: Her eyes!!!!!!! Ughhh Georgette has gorgeous, and beautiful ocean blue eyes!!!!!
Hair color: Blonde
Usual hair style: Georgette’s hair is usually up, most of the time in a very pristine ponytail, but lately it’s been down and loose in waves which is her natural hair.
Eye color: Blueeeee
Glasses? Contacts?: None
Style of dress/typical outfit(s): Georgette always dresses to impress. Never has anything less than designer clothing on. She has a very clean-cut, classy look to her. Comfortable for her means a pair of heels. She’s very into skirts and dresses prefers those over pants, but is definitely not oppose to jeans as you’ll see her wear them when she goes out, that or a cocktail dress.
Typical style of shoes: Heels!!! Louboutins, stilettos, pumps, you guys get the deal haha
Health (is this person usually sick? or very resilient?): Physical wise, Georgette is very healthy. She’s extremely into keeping fit, and goes to the gym daily. She has a gymnastics history on her. A talent is needed for pageants and she has been doing gymnastics since very young.
Grooming (does she/he wear makeup? shower daily? wear only clean clothes? pluck her eyebrows?): Georgette never steps out of her place without looking completely immaculate from head to toe. She is hugely into make-up. In fact, she does her own make-up, rarely did she like when make-up artist had to do it for her during photoshoots and/or commercials. There is never a hair out of place or a nail undone. Her clothes are pristine and Georgette showers a lot!!!! Ever since the trauma she can’t find herself clean enough.
Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: The standard two piercings on her ears. Her parents disapproved of anything else. Now, she does have a long dream catcher tattoo that covers her entire right torso. It’s covering a scar she had gotten during the night of the rape. She got it done much to her parents disapproval when she began her spiral. She actually really likes it and ended up getting another tattoo, a star, on her left foot that could sometimes be seen depending on the heel she’s wearing.
Accent?: A New York accent if that counts for anything? But she’s really good at turning it off.
Unique mannerisms/physical habits (bites nails, talks with hands, taps feet when restless): Georgette is very expressive with her hands and talks with them a lot especially when angry. She’s very horrible with having patience (we are working on that haha) and you can tell when she’s reaching her limits because she starts tapping her fingers on the nearest counter. If she’s very nervous, aside from the normal body tensing, Georgette tends to incessantly turn whatever bracelet she has on on her wrist.
Athletic?: Actually, yeah she kind of is haha. Georgette makes an effort to hit the gym daily because she does believe in keeping her body fit. She also has a long gymnastics history behind her. After the trauma, she took up kick-boxing and self-defense classes.
INTELLECT
Level of education (high school drop out, undergrad BA/BS, PhD, MD, etc.): Georgette graduated from Columbia University in New York. She has a bachelor’s degree in Business and Chemistry. Business was more so for her parents who pushed towards making sure she had something such as that under her belt. Chemistry was her own personal choice. Georgette is very into make-up so she became interested in the properties involved with it. She needs to make sure whatever she puts on her skin is healthy and would not cause her damage!!!!!
Level of self esteem: To the public eye, Georgette appears to have an extremely high self esteem. She always has her head up and exudes confidence. She can have a cutting bite to her words when necessary and could appear very full of herself. Inside, however, Georgette feels like extremely used goods, and basically hates herself.
Gifts/talents: Georgette can singggg. Shocker hidden talent there haha. She took singing lessons around the same time she started her gymnastics because she didn’t want to have just one talent to present while doing her pageants. She can actually sing pretty damn good!!!
Shortcomings: Homegirl doesn’t exactly have the best of patience. She can also have quite the temper and be very feisty. She has no problem barking back when the temper hits and Georgette can be pretty spoiled. (It’s some thing that is also being worked on haha)
Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): Georgette is articulate with her manner of speech, at the same time though when that temper gets spiked the woman can get loud. Rarely does she curse, but again get her angry at just the right angle and she’ll give two flying shits about cursing not being lady-like.
“Left brain” or “right brain” thinker?: Ummm, she’s probably a bit more of a left brain person, but not all the way, so maybe sort of a mix.
Artistic?: Aside from her musical talents in singing, nope not at all. She can appreciate all forms of art, but she can’t draw for shit or do anything along those realms.  
Mathematical?: Now math she is very good at, probably ten times better then me!!!! Which means I’m screwed, but like she majored in Chemistry so that sharpened her math skills tremendously.
Languages? Georgette can fluently speak French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian. She knows Latin as well, but you know that’s a dead language soooo. Her parents thought it was very important for her daughter to have a variety of languages under her belt.
Makes decisions based mostly on emotions, or on logic?: Emotions. I really wanted to say logic because she has been raised to do so, so like it’s second nature to her, but Georgette can be very impulsive and will react to emotions in a heartbeat.
Neuroses: None
Life philosophy: If you want something done perfectly, you have to do it yourself.
Religious stance: She doesn’t have a particular stand
Cautious or daring?: Daring. Maybe in the beginning she might have been a little more cautious because she had the media constantly behind her tail, but not really anymore.
Optimist or pessimist?: Probably a bit of both. She’s more so of a realist than anything, at least now she is.
Extrovert or introvert?: Extrovert!!!!
Level of comfort with technology: Very comfortable!!! Georgette basically grew up around technology.  
RELATIONSHIPS
Current marital/relationship status: Single
Sexual orientation: Heterosexual
Past relationships: Georgette has been in a couple of relationships here and there. None lasted super long. She definitely had her flingsss. Her last relationship was her longest and she thought that her ex would be like the #one and yeahhhh umm things went bad haha.
A social person? (popular, loner, some close friends, makes friends and then quickly drops them): Georgette is like a social butterfly. She does love talking to people, especially those that giver her attention hahaha. She’s not so much like that now. She’ll talk to people, yeah, but she keeps a little distant too because of the trauma that she has been through. Plus, she use to be heavy in the media and now that she ran off she’s not trying to have that many people know her.
Most comfortable around (person): Right now she doesn’t know a whole of a lot of people in Swynlake, so she’s probably the most comfortable around Perdita since they were close childhood friends.
Oldest friend: Tiffany is her oldest friend and her best-friend who funnily enough she isn’t speaking too right now haha. Aside from her, her oldest friend would have to be Perdita.
SECRETS
Life goals: Ummmmmmm right now she’s in the process of trying to figure out what exactly that issssss since her life has been turned COMPLETELY upside down. Before though, she wanted to be successful in her pageantry career and then settle down with like the perfect husband and all that jazz. Now she barely believes that there is such a thing as a healthy and sweet, genuine relationship and she finds love to be all bullshit.
Dreams: Georgette’s biggest dream was to become Miss America and even beat her own mother’s run, but it doesn’t seem like that dream will be happening what with everything that has occurred.
Greatest fears: That would currently be that what had happened to her could end up happening again.
Most ashamed of: Georgette’s the most ashamed of the fact that she had listened to her parents when she had returned home after the rape had occurred. She’s ashamed of the fact that she never reported it, never went to the police and essentially allowed a criminal a free card to what had happened to her.
Compulsions: Every time Georgette drinks wine or even champagne, she needs to gently twirl her glass cup three times, or she won’t drink it.
Obsessions: Chocolate, she loves chocolate. Any kind makes her very happy. Georgette is a chocolate addict okay, just like shower her in chocolate!!!!
Secret hobbies: Georgette actually loves scrapbooking!!!!! And she looovvessss dancing.
Secret skills: Georgette is extremely flexible. It stemmed from her gymnastic background, but she’s also double jointed on her arms and legs since she was young. It was the reason her mother had placed her in gymnastics, since Addison realized the potential that could bring for her daughter.
Crimes committed (and was he/she caught? charged?): Let’s seeeeee, well she was never charged for anything. Mommy and daddy Midler were good at paying off who ever needed to get paid to keep things under wraps. She really only started going cray cray after what happened to her. She has driven while drunk, gone skinny dipping, has tried prescription drugs, and ummm anything really stupid that a person would do while being very drunk Georgette has most likely done. Yeeaappp.
What he/she most wants to change about his/her current life: That the night of the rape had never occurred!!!! It ruined her life and Georgette wishes for nothing more then it to be erased from existence.
What he/she most wants to change about his/her physical appearance:Nothing actually, Georgette loves her physical appearance. She finds herself to be divinely beautiful. Errr well we’re having issues with that right now because presently she hates herself and can hardly even look at herself in the mirror because of it, BUTTTTTT before hand pffttt Georgette was like in love with herself hahaha.
DETAILS/QUIRKS
Night owl or early bird?: Night Owl
Light or heavy sleeper?: Heavy
Favorite food: Italian food, anything Italian she loves. She kind of has a guilty pleasure for pizza. I mean NYC does make the best pizza aroundddd, but you know for a rich girl who’s suppose to be eating healthy and whatnot, Georgette would stuff down a pizza asap. Screw eating ettiquteeee.
Least favorite food: Sea food. She does like shrimp though, but other then that Georgette isn’t a fan of any sea type food.
Favorite book: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Least favorite book: The Great Expectations by Charles Dickinson.
Favorite movie: Mean Girls hahahaha I am so mad too that that is her favorite movie
Least favorite movie: She’s not that much of a fan for comedy movies. They hardly ever make her laugh, and half of the time she finds them more pointless then anything.
Favorite song: I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston. Georgette is such 80′s trash when it comes to music.
Least favorite song: Anything that’s basically Heavy Metal. She just has never been able to get into that she feels like it’s all basically screaming.
Coffee or tea?: Coffee annnddd of course Georgette always has some complicated ass order when she asks for a coffee.
Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?: Smooth
Lefty or righty?: Righty
Favorite color: Pink!!!!!!!!!! That shouldn’t even be a question for Georgette hahaha
Cusser?: Georgette was brought up to be an absolute lady hahahaha sighhhhh, buttttt get her angry enough and she’ll forget all of that and will start cursing.
Smoker? Drinker? Drug user?: Never smoked, but she does drink. Drinking has sadly become like a medicine of sorts for Georgette. She isn’t a drug user, but she can’t say she hasn’t tried some prescriptions during parties she has hopped into. Wow Georgette you are a mess…..  
Biggest regret: Georgette’s biggest regret is the same as her biggest shame. She wishes that she would’ve reported her rape, spoken up, ANYTHING. She feels like it’s too late to do anything about it now and it’s a guilt that eats at her a lot!!!
Pets?: She has a POODLE!!!!!! hahahaha I couldn’t resist I’m so sorry!!!!! Her name is Peaches, you know like Georgia peach hahahahahaha sighh I think I’m funny xDD
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hell-heron · 6 years
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I like the sceneries\costumes a lot more for Midsummer than for King Lear! Probably because being a comedy it was less wanky\symbolic (little to no fallic shapes\gaping vaginas, thank God) and more straight up funny, with stuff like... an huge glittery apple shaped swing and a little circus stand for the Mechanics and so on. (Unfortunately, this didn’t stop one of my friends I was with from going on the whole play about how a classy theatre would not have done this ridiculous shit and used proper period costumes and so on which... really. Girl, we already have to thank all the saints we even have a professional theatre in this town)
I really adored the Rude Mechanics, I straight up cackled all the time, they were all so fun. A lot of their grammar mistakes where basically italianizing English words which is... pretty on point satire of something that happens a lot now. And honestly the part about puttin a disclaimer in the prologue that the swords are wooden and the lion is fake not to scare the ladies is kinda Tumblr culture in a nutshell :’D The four lovers I didn’t like a lot because there was a choice mad to make the girl act dumb and bratty and hysterical - Helena improved later and became really relatable in the part about everyone making fun of her but Hermia was fucking intolerable. I had expected her to be really fiery and cool not... 14. The boys were pretty nice though, Demetrius obviously kind of an asshole but overall really chill and smooth and uderstandable bc they played Helena as kinda creepy at first. But everyone was way cattier than they should have been, even before the whole thing happened wtf the girls are supposed to be friends. There was a lot of singing and rap too, like in the first scene when Egeus tells about Lysander singing for Hermia he pulls his ear and tells him to show them what he sung and he’s super dorky and off-key. The rap was all on Puck though.
aaaaand if anyone doubted, I STILL would relinquish all m earthly possessions\possibly take a bullet for one wink of Violante Placido’s angelic blue eyes. Yeah, I unfortunately have a girl crush. Happens. Thank God I had a shitty cheap seat and barely saw anyone’s face because I was already floating on my happy gay cloud for good part of the show as it is (there was the same couple double casted as Hyppolita\Theseus and Titania\Oberon). She sung a little too and was generally really lively and sexy (except the whole part where she describes how her marriage troubles are ruining EVERYONE ON EARTH’S lives, which was very well done with all the ominiousness (?? I don’t speak English at 2 am)  and had some really good smoke\lights effects too). Oh, and when they talked about her Indian friend who died a girl in a sari came in and acted it all out, which was pretty sweet and gay. Oberon was sassy af and randomly bursted into French a lot and... EXPLICITLY hit on Puck a lot, who however didn’t seem to want him back. Sad!
Oh and can I say the story of Pyramus and Thisbe gave me war flashbacks to the first year of high school when I had to translate it all from latin? Still don’t know who the hell picked it for a bunch of 14 year olds. Latin is depressing enough as it is
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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years
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Saint Gerard Mejalla - Feast Day: October 16th - Latin Calendar
Introduction
The life of St. Gerard Majella reads like a fairy tale for children: full of surprises, full of impossible things that happen anyway because of him. An archangel brings him Communion! A statue comes to life! Empty pantries suddenly bulge with bread! A bird bolts out of the air to perch on his finger and sing for a crying child! The life of St. Gerard teems with such things. If you are one who finds wonders hard to stomach, if dozens of “commonplace” miracles tax your forbearance . . . this booklet is not for you. Lay it aside.
Children will love this story . . . and their mothers, too. That is only as it should be. For today, for some secret reason of Divine Providence, little ones and their mothers are St. Gerard’s favorite beneficiaries. Thousands of children in the United States bear the name “Gerard” because of his powerful intercession. He is commonly called the Patron of Mothers.
The Beginning
Annibale Rosso! It was incredible. He had suddenly given up membership in the Communist Party. Even more surprising, he was seen at mass. People naturally talked in the small town south of Naples. Communism was on every lip just then, for it was the month of April 1948. On the third Sunday of the month all Italy would vote and Communism might well take over the government. But one thing was certain. The vote of Annibale Rosso would be against the Hammer and Sickle. He said so himself. He swore a solemn oath, he would have no more truck or traffic with the Party . . . not after last night.
Last night he had been ranting in his usual fashion against the “duplicity and trickery of the Church.” If anything he was more boisterous, more caustic than ever. The occasion was a candlelight procession that had come to town. People singing. Little children in white carrying spring flowers, and priests in the black cassock and rosary of the “Liguorini” – the Redemptorists. Annibale cursed the “tomfoolery.” He was all for stoning the priest preaching in the public square before the church. “What new-fangled sort of nonsense is this?” he muttered . . . “digging up a saint two hundred years dead and carrying him round the countryside! It’s a trick. The whole thing is a trick of these priests.”
At the wish of the Archbishop of Conza, the remains of St. Gerard Majella had been traveling through the Archdiocese since the first of April. They would continue visiting town after town until April 15th. It was an attempt at waking the towns of the Archdiocese to the practice of their Faith; to warn them of their duty as Catholics to vote on April eighteenth and avert the red menace. Gerard Majella had come from that neighborhood. He had visited these very towns as a Redemptorist laybrother two centuries ago. He had died at Materdomini in 1755 at the age of twenty-nine. Wonders were his specialty. Stories of his miracles were still handed down from father to son all through that countryside.
During the fifteen-day tour of his native diocese of Conza, St. Gerard continued his wonders. All spring the skies had been clear. The fields were parched and dry. Farmers, among them Annibale Rosso, were hoping for rain for their crops. The evening the procession came to the town, it rained for the first time in weeks. The same thing had happened in many other places. Then there was a little thirteen-year-old girl suffering from an incurable malady – tuberculosis of the bone. The afternoon St. Gerard passed through the village, she was cured instantaneously.
The rumor of all these happenings ran like wildfire. By the time the procession came to the town of Annibale Rosso, new wonders were already passing from lip to lip. It was too much for Annibale. The peasants with their beads and shawls, the smoking candles, the church bells, the sermon, the flower-decked statue of Our Lady of Materdomini. People stood in queues waiting to confess their sins. Eight Redemptorists were constantly busy. And there was to be a Mass at midnight! Annibale Rosso swore a withering oath and went home to bed.
Then it happened. In his sleep he saw St. Gerard Majella accompanied by a group of priests. “Annibale Rosso, have I not helped you often before this?” The saint’s face was stern. His dark eyes flashed disapproval. “Have all my graces been fruitless? Do you think you can make sport of the Saints of God and come off unscathed? It is not as you say, a “trick” of these good priests, that I am carried through the countryside. I am visiting my friends . . ." Annibale Rosso sat up in bed. He was trembling. Dressing at once, he hurried down to the church, waiting with his townsmen to confess his sins and receive the absolution of the missionary.
In 1948, just as in 1755, Brother Gerard Majella of the Redemptorists was busy – not only battling with Communists in Italy, but leading the counterattack in America on the forces of Anti-life, pouring favors on countless mothers, and blessing the unborn.
A Pretty Lady
He was born in the South of Italy in a small town called Muro on the sixth of April. It was in the year 1726. His father, Domenico, was a tailor. His mother, Benedetta, had already borne three daughters. Gerard was the youngest – the only son. They were an ordinary hard-working Italian family. Pious too. Donna Benedetta often brought her three youngest to Mass with her at the shrine of Our Lady of Graces at nearby Capotignano. And, like thousands of other small boys, then and now, Gerard was all eyes for the strange new things he saw. Not quite four, he was too young to know what was going on. But he did know this: he liked the “pretty lady with the baby.”
“Mama, Mama, see what I got from the little boy.” In his hand he clutched a small roll of bread. Nobody paid him a bit of attention as he chattered about a pretty lady and her baby who had given him the bread. Small boys love to make up stories! But the next day he brought back another white roll, and again the next day, and the next. His mother decided to investigate. Next morning she followed her son. Off he ran the two miles to Capotignano, making straight for the chapel. Benedetta followed. It was then she saw who his playmate was – the Christ-Child himself. The statue of Our Lady of Graces had come to life. The infant climbed down from his Mother’s arms to romp with Gerard. A bewildered Benedetta ran home to Muro. At mealtime, little Gerard came back with another roll of bread.
In after life this childhood attraction for the “pretty lady with the baby” ran over into a love for all children and their mothers. This can be seen in the most cursory glance at his life. There are so many wonders wrought for little children . . . and for mothers. The “Mother’s Saint” has earned even greater claim to the title in the nineteen decades since his death.
His Lordship’s Latch-Key
Ten years later when he was houseboy for Bishop Albini at Lacedonia, children went home to their mothers with all sorts of stories told them by Gerard Majella. But the townsfolk had learned about the new houseboy themselves. Everyone had tales of his kindness, his visits to the poor in the clinic, his compassion. How he bandaged the wounds of the sick and brought them leftovers from the bishop’s table. Anyone who noticed him at prayer in the cathedral knew Gerard for what he was.
But the morning they saw him running down the cathedral steps with the Bambino, they didn’t know what to say! It was the last week in December in 1743. People stopped and stared at Gerard racing down the street with the statue of the Infant from the crib. A crowd followed after him. He paid no attention. On he ran to the public well.
What happened? What’s the matter?” Someone explained how His Lordship had gone for his morning walk, and the house-boy had locked the door and come down to the well for water: but as he leaned down to haul up the bucket, the bishop’s key had dropped into the well.
Gerard had by now tied a rope around the Bambino, and was lowering it gently into the well. “Gesu, Gesu Bambino” he prayed aloud, “find me my key. It’s the key to His Lordship’s house . . . and he’ll be back in half an hour . . .” Bystanders craned their necks to peer into the well. Others shook their heads and walked off. Some smiled a little smugly at the antics of the frightened houseboy. But when he pulled up the rope from the well and the dripping statue of the Infant came into view, there in Bambino’s tiny hand was the Bishop’s key.
In June of 1744, Bishop Albini died at Lacedonia and Gerard returned to his hometown of Muro. He had been apprenticed to a master-tailor before going to Lacedonia to work for the bishop and knew the trade quite well. Now after a short apprenticeship with a second tailor, he set up his own business in his mother’s house.
There’s magic in an established name. And the sign “Majella the Tailor” hanging over the shop brought many of his father’s old customers to the door. His growing reputation for faultless workmanship won him patrons from all walks of life. His prices were always fair. He was scrupulously honest. From the poor, he took no payment at all.
One day, a man came in with some goods for a suit. Gerard spread it on the table, and laid his tape measure along its length. “Mmmmm!” He shook his head. The cloth was much too short. The poor man could not hide his chagrin, as he had no money for more. “It is nothing,” said Gerard, running his fingers along the edge of the cloth. He measured it once more. Three yards . . . four . . . five! More than enough for a fine substantial suit! As a matter of fact, when the garment was finished, the man received a good extra piece of material. The cloth had grown longer under Gerard’s miraculous touch.
One and Twenty
April 6, 1747. How the years fly! Gerard was twenty-one and as yet had not found his heart’s desire. He had a fair business: at least he could support his mother. He gave he a third of all his earnings. Another third went to the poor of Muro. The rest was for Masses for the Poor Souls. As for himself . . . God would provide. Not too practical to a hard-headed businessman, but he was more than just a small town tailor. He wanted to be a saint.
His mother was driven to distraction by her son. He would not eat her meals. He was lean from fasting and penance, pale from long vigils of prayer in the nearby cathedral. But if his constitution was frail, his disposition was always on a holiday: gay as a lark, merry as a little child.
Hope Deferred
Twice he had applied for admission to the Capuchin monastery at Muro. But a glance at his sunken chest and thin white hands, and the Capuchins turned him down. Candidly, they told him, he had not the health nor stamina for so strenuous a life. Perhaps he should go off into the hills to live as a hermit in seclusion and holy meditation! He tried it but his confessor firmly forbade it. So Gerard went back to his needles and tape. He understood that a man can achieve holiness in any walk of life, in the faithful discharge of his duties. If it were God’s will that he be a tailor, then he would be a good one.
And God showed evident approval. The whole countryside spoke openly of his supernatural powers. Had he not cured little Amata Giuliani! The little girl had tumbled into a vat of boiling water and for all the medications of oil and wax, the child whimpered in her mother’s arms all day. As Gerard was passing the house he heard the child and went in. “It is nothing,” he said, laying his hand on the scalded skin. Suddenly, little Amata Giuliani was smiling. The next morning all trace of the burn was gone.
Walking down a side street of Muro another day, Gerard noticed a new house abuilding. Work was at a standstill. The carpenters stood awkwardly by while the foreman ran his fingers through his hair in a helpless rage. The rafters had been sawed too short. “Pull them with ropes,” suggested the onlooker. Practical men though they were, they took the suggestion. The rafters fitted snugly from wall to wall, and work was resumed.
Always in Church
No matter what was ado about the cathedral, Gerard was there. He attended all the Sunday Masses, the May devotions, the tridua. In fact, he often spent the whole night locked up in church. One of his relatives happened to be sacristan. The rest was easy. One evening while deep in prayer, Gerard heard a voice . . . “Pazzarello . . . My little fool, what are you doing?” looking up at the altar, he answered. “Ah, but you are more a fool than I, a prisoner for me in your tabernacle.” When the bells rang for Mass the next morning, Gerard was still in church.
He was there the afternoon of Low Sunday, April 13, 1749, for the start of the parish retreat. A newly founded congregation of missionaries were to preach in all three churches of Muro. Their founder had been a well-known lawyer at Naples, Alphonsus de Liguori. Wherever these missionaries went, they moved all hearts with their fervent words. It was the same in Muro.
One of the missionaries, Father Paul Cafaro, made a deep impression on Gerard Majella. “I must join these men as a lay brother,” he decided. Each day the resolution grew more insistent in his heart. He even gave away all his worldly goods – one extra shirt and a pair of linen breeches! Finally, he went to see Father Cafaro.
No Encouragement
But like the Capuchin superior a few years before, Father Cafaro gave him no encouragement. He was too frail for the rigorous tasks of a lay brother. Despite the rebuff Gerard was not disheartened. He was convinced that God wanted him to join his new Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer. He went on making preparations for departure.
When his mother discovered the plan she was frantic. His three sisters wept aloud, pleading with him to stay. “Mother needs you at home,” they insisted. But Gerard stood firm. He was going to Iliceto to become a Redemptorist! They ran to the missionaries, begging them not to accept their brother. Father Cafaro has no intention whatever of accepting the young man. However, he shrewdly foresaw it would be hard to dissuade this importunate youth. “Detain him at home somehow the day we leave,” was Father Cafaro’s advice to Gerard’s distracted family. They promised to do so.
Benedetta bolted Gerard’s door the morning the Redemptorists left Muro. But later when she tiptoed into the room, he was not there. His bed-clothes, knotted together, streamed from the open window, and on a small table lay a scrap of paper: “Mother, I am off to become a saint,” it read. It was signed “Gerardo.” He had gone after the missionaries.
Success
“Wait, wait for me!” The group of missionaries half way to Rionero turned to see a cloud of dust on the road behind them. It was that young man again. He had pursued them for twelve miles. Gasping for breath, he commenced his entreaties all over. He was too frail for the life, the missionaries countered. He had better go back to Muro. But Gerard would not be put off. He argued. He nagged. He pleaded. He prayed to Our Lady. He made such a holy nuisance of himself during the next few days in Rionero that Father Cafaro at last gave in. He wrote a short note for the Rector of the monastery at Iliceto, and gave it to the persistent young man. At once Gerard was on his way. By nightfall, he had reached the novitiate of the Redemptorists.
On a Saturday evening, the seventeenth of May in 1749, a tired young man, dusty from long hours of walking, knocked on the door of the monastery at Iliceto. Soon he was presenting his precious letter to Father D’Antonio, the rector. He had no idea of what Father Cafaro had written. As the Rector unfolded the note, Gerard was all happiness, his face wreathed in smiles. “I am sending you a brother, who as far as work goes, will be perfectly useless.” The Rector glanced up at the young man over the letter, noting the frail little frame and the pallid face. He read on . . . “But because of his many earnest entreaties, and the high reputation he holds in Muro, I could not quite deny him a trial . . .” Now Father D’Antonio was smiling. “This is not an easy life,” he dryly remarked, “But we will give you a chance at it.” Gerardo Majella was happy unto tears. He was going to be a religious . . . a lay brother of the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer.
Gerard Majella, the Redemptorist Lay-brother
A lay brother is lay: he is not an ordained priest. He is not bound to the Divine Office. He does not say Mass or hear Confessions, or preach missions. But he is a brother to the priests of the community, wearing the same Redemptorist habit, living under the same roof, eating the same meals, sharing the community’s prayers and good works. He is a religious with the three vows of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience . . . the same vows as any Redemptorist priest. In no sense is he a servant to the priests. He is their helper. He takes care of the material upkeep of the monastery while his confreres are busy with the spiritual work of the apostolic ministry. He has little commerce with the world beyond the monastery walls except when the business of the house may require it. He should be modest, humble, simple, and joyously obedient. Above all, he must be devoted to prayer.
Knowing what we do of Gerard, we can appreciate how ideally he fitted these requirements. Today, in the Constitutions of the Lay Brothers of the Congregation, St. how ideally he fitted these requirements. Today, in the Constitutions of the Lay Brothers of the Congregation, St. Gerard Majella is named their patron and model. But, back to Iliceto in May of 1749.
Next morning he began his new apprenticeship: doing odd jobs here and there about the monastery, helping the brothers at their various tasks. His first assignment was the garden . . . hard and back-breaking work for a lad accustomed to needle and thimble. Somehow he managed to finish his own work and always have time to help the others. “This new-comer does the work of four of us,” was the comment of his new companions. Their admiration mounted wit the weeks; and by the time Father Cafaro came as Rector to Iliceto in October of that year, the young man from Muro was considered the jewel of the house.
The Will of God
The new Rector of Iliceto was quick to realize how premature he had been with his scribbled recommendations. Absolutely worthless! It embarrassed him to remember what he had written. Not only could the postulant do the work of four, he did the downright impossible! He read the minds of total strangers. He cured sicknesses. He set the natural laws at naught. His recollection was constant. So fixed were his thoughts on God and His Holy Will, he became a model of punctilious obedience. That was the secret of Gerard’s holiness: that in everything he sought the Will of God. For him the Redemptorist Rule in its minutest detail was the express Will of God. He knew it by heart. Were the rulebook to be lost, he could have rewritten it from memory, line for line. He obeyed his superiors to the letter. Often they had but to think of a task for Gerard, when at once he began to execute their wish.
There was the morning the Rector sent him off to Lacedonia with a letter for one of the priests of the town. He had been gone some time when the Rector remembered a post-script he had meant to add. “If I could only get hold of that letter,” he thought. Hardly had he phrased the thought when there was a knock at his door, and Gerard walked in with the letter. Without a word, he laid it on the Rector’s desk.
Some weeks later, the Rector was visiting the Bishop of Melfi. Conversation turned to the young man at Iliceto whom everyone regarded as a saint. The Rector spoke glowingly of him, so much so that the Bishop wanted to meet the young novice: would it be possible for Gerard to visit with him at Melfi? When the Rector agreed, the Bishop called for a messenger; but the Rector smilingly assured him a messenger would be unnecessary. “Your lordship, I will show you the extent of this young man’s obedience. I will close my eyes and desire him to come to Melfi.
At that same moment, Gerard went to Father Minister at Iliceto for permission to go to Melfi, as the Rector wished to see him. And while the Bishop was still conversing with the Rector, Brother Gerard came into the room.
“And what brings you here, Brother?” the Rector feigned surprise. “Obedience,” said Gerard. “I sent no message for you to come here,” the Rector spoke sternly. “No,” replied Gerard meekly. “But in the presence of His Lordship you commanded me to come, as he desired to meet me.” So the Bishop of Melfi met the novice. He remained at Melfi for three weeks.
Intruder
Reports of his wonders came from all quarters. One afternoon a rough looking character came to Iliceto and asked for the Rector. He wanted to go to confession. After making his peace with God, he told how he had come to seek out Iliceto. “I was coming down the road quite a distance from here thinking my own wicked thoughts, when just below Acadia at an intersection I met one of your Brothers. He stood there as though he were expecting me. I hastened my pace as I had no mind to talk to him. When he saluted me, I snarled that he mind his own affairs. He was a frail, thin fellow; but then he reached out and grasped my arm and held me as in a vice. “Where are you going?” he asked. “I may be able to help you.” I was furious at his impertinence! I tried to jerk my arm from his grasp. “I know what is in your heart. You are in despair. You are on the point of giving your soul to the Evil One.” I turned pale at his words, because it was the truth. That very moment I had been mulling over that very idea. “God knows what you are thinking. He sent me to this spot to warn you.” Frightened at the way he could read my soul, I admitted I was about to commit a crime, and asked his guidance. He told me to come here to Iliceto to you.
Acid Test
The days of Brother Gerard’s novitiate were drawing to a close. He had tried the Redemptorist Rule and found it to his liking. His various superiors had tried him in many ways and found that he passed their tests. Anyone who observed him in chapel knew he was a man of prayer. His fellow Brothers could vouch for his alacrity at the hardest work. From all over came reports of his wondrous dealings with the poor and the sick and the sinner.
Professed Religious
On the feast of Our Lady’s Visitation in 1752, Brother Gerard commenced his fifteen-day retreat in preparation to make his vows as a Redemptorist. On July sixteenth, the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, he knelt in the chapel at Iliceto and pronounced in the presence of his community, the vows of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience, and the oath of Perseverance until death. Brother Gerard Majella was a professed member of the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer. Two months later, with the consent of his Director, he made a fifth vow: To do always that which was most pleasing to God.
Much as Gerard preferred solitude and meditation, his life as a lay brother demanded that he often leave the monastery on business. He traveled with the missionaries, helping them in every way possible, in their tedious weeks of preaching in many villages and towns. Often too, he was called by the poor and the sick. Wherever obedience demanded his presence, Gerard was there to “do the Will of God.” And God in turn seemed to do the will of Gerard for the benefit of countless souls.
His hometown of Muro was his first assignment after Profession. It was now three years since he had climbed from his bedroom window and run after the missionaries. His mother was dead. She had passed away in April, four months before he returned. So during his stay in Muro, he lived with Alessandro Piccolo, the watchmaker, though he had invitations from nobles and well-to-do, and was greeted like a hero by everyone in the town.
Not in Text Books
The students of the new seminary in Muro could hardly believe their ears. Their rector had invited Brother Gerard to give them a conference on the first chapter of St. John’s Gospel. Some of them had been boys with him. They knew he had left school at the age of twelve; that he could barely read or write; and had never studied theology. And yet when he began discoursing lucidly on the eternal generation of the Second Person of the Trinity, he held them spellbound. He made it sound so simple! Canon Bozzio was later to write of Gerard . . . “Learned men are silent before this poor unlettered Brother. He draws knowledge from its source, the Heart of Christ, not from the muddy cisterns of the human mind. In his mouth the most obscure mysteries become luminously clear.” Is it any wonder that confessors flocked to Gerard seeking advice?
And always there were the children. They flocked to him from all over Muro. He told them stories, taught them to pray. One little fellow tumbled from a cliff and was found, to all appearances, dead. He was the son of Piccolo, the watchmaker, with whom Gerard was staying. “It is nothing,” he told the distracted father. He traced a little cross on the boy’s forehead and the child awoke.
Mind Reader
Back at Iliceto that winter, there were the usual retreats for men, held at regular intervals. During several of these, Gerard was instrumental in regaining souls to Christ. There was one man, especially, who, despite all the urging of the lay brother, refused to make a good confession. One evening Gerard obtained permission to go up to the man’s room. He carried a large crucifix, and before the man could open his mouth, “Look at these wounds!” he told him. “Your evil deeds have made the blood to flow.” Red blood began oozing from the nails of the crucifix. “For you, He was born in a stable,” Gerard continued. Suddenly the trembling man beheld the Infant Jesus in Gerard’s arms! “If you persist in your sins, you will be damned . . .” The brother made a gesture and a soul from hell appeared in the room writhing in torment! After that there was no need for words. At once, the man ran down the stairs two at a time to one of the confessors. He told what he had seen and asked that the whole incident be made public for the instruction of all. He made a good confession. Brother Gerard was indispensable to the success of the retreats.
Pied Piper
It was the month of April and Gerard was on his way to the town of Corato, when a poor farmer, thinking him a priest, called out to him: “Padre, can you give me consolation?” The man pointed sadly to his farm. “See how the mice have eaten my seedlings. They are everywhere. My family will die of hunger because of them.” Gerard raised his hand and blessed the fields. “There now,” he said. “Everything will be alright,” and was on his way. The wretched farmer stood there watching the “Padre” awhile. He turned back to his stricken fields. He blinked his eyes and took a second look. All along the furrows, little field mice lay by the hundreds, not a one alive. “Wait, man of God, wait,” he shouted, but Gerard was turning a bend in the road. Corato was waiting.
During the greater part of the Lenten season, Gerard was at Corato. Word of his doings there came by post to the Rector of Iliceto . . . “his good example has attracted everyone and wrought many conversions,” the letter said . . . “Crowds follow him everywhere in Corato. They carry him about as though he were a Saint come down from Heaven. From six in the morning till six at night, they gather round the house of Don Felice Papaleo where Gerard has been staying. The people here want not only a mission by the Redemptorists, but a retreat. A large group are planning to go to Iliceto around the twentieth of next month . . . There are so many wonderful things (about Brother Gerard) I can recount for you, when I see you in person . . .”
While at Corato, Gerard paid a call at the Benedictine convent where Mother Abbess begged him to pray that she be relieved of her duties, as the responsibility weighed too heavily on her heart. Gerard assured her, she would soon be relieved of her cross, but that the Lord would give her another cross that she must carry to the grave. Shortly after Gerard’s departure, the good woman was relieved of her office, and as Gerard has predicted, she had developed a cancer of the foot, which remained incurable to the day of her death.
He often foretold that persons were to die. In June of 1753 while in Muro at the home of his old friend Piccolo, the watch-maker, he called the wife aside one day and told her a secret sin that had been troubling her for quite some time. “Make your peace with God,” he urged, “as you have but a short while to live.” At the time, she was in the pink of health. But a few days later she fell ill and died so unexpectedly that could not even have the priest. Later Gerard met Piccolo and told him that his wife had passed away with the name of Jesus on her lips.
Everywhere he went, he visited the sick. Some he cured; others he passed by, and often he gave his reasons. At Castelgrande he paid a call on the mother of a three-year-old boy whose little hands were crippled from violent convulsions. “The child will suffer no more,” said Gerard, and made a cross on the boy’s head. Long years later, the mother attested to the truth of his prediction. Her boy had been well ever since. Little Judith, the daughter of the mayor of Castelgrande, was blind. Her mother begged Gerard to pray that Judith regain her sight. Gerard said, “No. If Judith were to see, she would lose her soul.”
The Man Who Disliked Redemptorists
Sometimes there is a touch of irony in the stories recounted of Gerard Majella. One of these concerns a young Michele de Michele. For some reason, he bore a grudge against religious, and he particularly disliked Redemptorists. He lay ill of fever at Melfi and Gerard cured him instantly with a little sign of the cross. Awed at such power, Michele spread the story all through Melfi.
A few days later, he met Gerard in the street and stopped to speak. Before long, however, he saw that all dissembling was useless. Gerard could read his inmost thoughts . . . even his antipathy for religious. “Michele,” Gerard said to him as they parted company. “The day will come when you will be one of us.” That was a little too much. “I’ll join the Redemptorists the day I can touch the sky with my thumb,” quipped Michele. In less than six months, Michele de Michele was a Redemptorist novice at Ciorani.
Michele had not come to Ciorani as yet when nine young Redemptorist scholastics made their memorable pilgrimage to his patron’s shrine, St. Michael the Archangel at Monte Gargano. It was in September and Brother Gerard accompanied them. The Rector put Gerard in charge of the pilgrimage, entrusting him with the money for the trip – thirty silver carlins. In our money, it amounted to $2.00 . . . hardly enough to defray the expense of food and lodging of ten young men for a fortnight, even in 1753! The students were all for abandoning the trip but Gerard calmed them. “Money isn’t everything,” he said. “God will provide.” So they set out.
However, by the time they reached Manfredonia at the foot of the mountain, all Gerard had in his purse was twenty cents . . . and they had twelve more days and nights to go. Being a thoroughly practical saint, he spent the twenty cents on a spray of flowers and took them into the chapel at the castle of Manfredonia. After praying awhile with the students, he walked up to the altar. “See, Lord, we’ve thought of You. Now you must think of us.” With that, he laid the bouquet in front of the tabernacle.
The chaplain of the castle was spectator to this little scene, and after greeting the group, invited them to spend the night there. Next day they climbed the mountain to St. Michele’s shrine and spent the night at a nearby inn. By this time, the students were thoroughly worried. How would they pay for their lodging? They were whispering among themselves when a well-dressed Signore came up to Brother Gerard and without further ado, he presented him with a purse of silver.
Exorbitant
The inn near Monte Gargano did a brisk trade. Long lines of pack mules brought provisions up the steep slopes each day. There was always good food to be had there, but prices were high. When it came time for Gerard and his party to leave, he asked the inn-keeper for the bill. Exorbitant! Gerard questioned this item and that to no avail. The inn-keeper could not be swayed. “Very well, my good man, I’ll pay you.” Gerard counted out his silver coins . . . “But if you are over-charging us, you will suffer. All your pack mules will die.” The inn-keeper reached for the money, chuckling to himself, when the door burst open and his son rushed in. “The mules, Dad! They’ve got the plague! They’re all lying down half dead.” The inn-keeper crossed himself in terror. Clutching Gerard by the sleeve, he admitted he had added this item and that to the bill. “Your lodging will be on the house,” he pleaded. “I will give you food for your trip home,” he cajoled. “Only keep my mules from dying!"
Gerard paid the amended bill. “Signore,” he said. “I gladly forgive you; but never forget that God is with the poor.” As the ten pilgrims trooped into the inn-yard, the mules were again on their feet.
Summer had been all sunshine and no rain. By mid-September, the roads were a powder of dust and the rivers low. Along the way from the shrine to Manfredonia, Gerard asked a farmer for water as the students were parched with thirst. “But if I let every passerby take a drink from my well, I’ll soon have no water at all.” The man was reluctant. “Look out, Signore,” Gerard was angered at his selfishness. “Your well may refuse water even to you!” As he spoke, the well ran dry. Panic-stricken, the farmer promised them all the water they wanted. So Gerard dropped the bucket into the dry well. It landed with a splash and came up filled with cold water. The nine young men had plenty to talk about when they got home to Iliceto.
The Plague
In late November of that year word came to Iliceto that an epidemic had broken out in Lacedonia. Doctors were powerless to check it. People were dying off by the hundreds. Finally, a letter came from Bishop Amato; an urgent request for the presence of Brother Gerard in the stricken town. Gerard was shortly on his way.
Death hung like a mist over Lacedonia. As Gerard approached, he saw the hills were a patchwork of new dug graves. Church bells were constantly tolling – funerals wending through the streets and out to the cemetery. Scarcely a home in the city had escaped the plague. At once he commenced his rounds of mercy. Here he prepared one for the end. Another he assured hat the illness would pass. But he wrought many miracles, too – with a simple sign of the cross. Doctors stood helplessly by. Not so Gerard! Patients got well as he touched them – all trace of their fevers gone.
During the seven weeks in plague-ridden Lacedonia, Gerard stayed at the home of Don Constantino Capucci, a brother of the archpriest, in the cathedral. Two of the gentleman’s daughters had already entered the convent. Two more were still at home. Here Gerard often delivered short discourses to the people crowding round the house. Some came for counsel. Some for solace or encouragement. He found time to give instructions to anyone seeking information on matters religious. His nights and days were spent in an endless activity for God and souls. Towards the end of February, the epidemic had run its course, and Gerard left for Iliceto. His own health was none too good.
A Wagging Tongue
One girl in Lacedonia escaped the plague, though it might have been better had she succumbed! Neria Caggiano with several other girls of the neighborhood had gone to the conservatory at Foggia. They had been admitted through the efforts of Brother Gerard and were happy in the convent. Then Neria came home. Soon, she was slandering the nuns, and the whole way of life at Foggia. However, as many families in Lacedonia had daughters in that very convent, they turned a deaf ear to Neria’s gossip. People avoided her. They feared her tongue.
Resenting this, she turned her spite on Gerard who had helped her to enter the convent. She belittled his “so-called sanctity”; blamed him for all her troubles. The good people of Lacedonia turned from her in horror.
Now she tried a new tack. Very demurely she confided to one of the priests of the town that she had been highly disedified by Gerard’s love for Nicoletta Capucci at the house where he had spent his stay in Lacedonia. She feigned to know of secret meetings between them! The priest was perturbed at such a confidence. If it were true then by all means Neria must write to Father Alphonsus Liguori at Nocera, the Superior General of the Order. She must inform him of the fact that he might dismiss Gerard from the Redemptorists before it were too late. Neria Caggiano took up pen and wrote.
Dilemma
When Alphonsus de Liguori read the letter from Lacedonia, he could not believe it. At once he ordered an investigation of the girl’s allegation. No evidence was forthcoming to prove the Brother’s guilt. But none could be found either to prove his innocence. The word of Neria Caggiano stood alone. She had sworn to the truth of her statement, and the priest of Lacedonia had given her credence. Alphonsus summoned Brother Gerard to his headquarters at Nocera de Pagani. Reports on this lay brother had always been the best. On all sides Alphonsus had heard of wonders wrought be Gerard. He had been seen in an ecstasy on Good Friday by the people of Corato. His confreres at Iliceto could vouch for his punctilious obedience . . . even to reading his Rector’s unspoken wish. He fasted much. He prayed long into the night. They even called him saint! Alphonsus had never met Brother Gerard face to face. Not until today . . .
Sitting at his desk, Alphonsus read the letter aloud to the young man standing before him. He folded it slowly, awaiting Gerard’s denial of so preposterous a charge. But Gerard just stood there looking at the floor. Baffled beyond words, Alphonsus sat studying the lean face . . . quietly waiting . . . affording him every chance to clear his name. Gerard said nothing. He would not deny his guilt. He would not affirm it. He simply stood there in silence.
There was nothing to do but impose a severe penalty until the matter could be further resolved. Expulsion was the normal penalty for such a misdemeanor, but Alphonsus had not been a lawyer for naught. He prudently bided his time. Gerard was to have no further communication with the world beyond the monastery. He was not to receive Communion until further notice. That was his penance. He accepted it in silence, quietly leaving the superior’s room.
April, May and most of June, Gerard remained at Nocera under the surveillance of Alphonsus de Liguori. For all practical purposes he was in disgrace. The community, when they noticed his abstention from Communion, suspected a calumny of some sort. Several of them urged him to clear his name – to speak. But, “It is in God’s hands,” Gerard would always say.
“If He wills that my innocence be proven, who can accomplish it more easily than He?”
Trial
Meanwhile, the damp climate brought on a recurrence of his malady. Gerard was confined to bed. Though still deprived of Communion, God was with him. His miraculous faculty continued as before. One of the Fathers, making the evening meditation with the patient, saw him fall into an ecstasy that lasted for hours. The Superior General himself experienced Gerard’s gift of Obedience to the unspoken wish. One morning Brother Gerard rose up from bed and went straight to Alphonsus Liguori. “Why are you not in bed, Brother?” the superior asked. “I came because you desired to see me.” It was true. Just at that moment the thought had passed through the mind of Alphonsus. Thus, Gerard left his case in God’s hands, and the Lord took care of it. That he burned to receive Communion can be imagined. One morning when a priest asked him to serve his Mass, Gerard begged off . . . “Please do not tempt me,” he pleaded. “lest I snatch the Sacred Host from your hands.”
In June, Brother Gerard was transferred to the house of Materdomini at Caposele. The climate there would benefit his failing health. Here too on the last Sunday of June, he was again permitted to receive Communion. The clouds were lifting from his life.
A few days later, a letter sped from Lacedonia to Nocera. Neria Caggiano, gravely ill, now admitted that he previous letter was a tissue of lies. The innocence of Brother Gerard was at long last confirmed. Alphonsus Liguori was overjoyed. It was not long before the two saints met again.
“You were innocent all the time, my son, and yet you said nothing,” Alphonsus Liguori’s face was radiant with solicitude. “How could I, my Father,” said Gerard simply, “when our Rule forbids that we make excuses.” It seemed the warm Nocera sun poured in more brightly through the window!
A Mother Pleads
The last brief year of Gerard’s life was spent a Caposele, with a few short sojourns to Naples where he assisted the Procurator General of the Order. He also began a tour of the Archdiocese of Conza at the request of the Archbishop, but illness brought him back to Materdomini – to die.
Caposele and Naples won the favor of his wonders, as did Iliceto a year before. At Naples, great scholars came to him seeking advice. People begged his blessing in the streets. One morning, the Duchess of Maddaloni approached him as he entered the Cathedral, begging him to cure her little daughter who was ill. Gerard pointed to the altar, saying it was not he but God who wrought such miracles. But the mother persisted until Gerard promised to pray for her little one. An hour later, a liveried footman came to fetch the Duchess, bringing news that the little girl had suddenly recovered.
One day when Gerard was in Naples, one of those summer storms blew up, bringing lowering clouds and a chill wind from the Appenines. At once the fishing fleet hauled in traps and sail and made for shore. They well knew the damage a squall wrought. Off the rocks of Pietra del pesce the sea was leaping in huge bursts of spray, tossing a hapless boat like a stick. Fearing shipwreck, the panicky rowers signaled shore, but not a soul would dare put out to their rescue.
At the moment, Brother Gerard happened along and saw the little fishing smack pitching helplessly among the whitecaps. Walking down to the shore, he made the sign of the cross, threw his cloak back over his shoulder and without more ado, began to walk across the churning breakers till he came alongside the boat. Then while the crowds on shore shielded their eyes to watch, he grasped the prow and pulled the boatload of fishermen in the harbor. “Santo! Santo!” screamed the people. They mobbed around him . . . so that he had to dart away and hide in a shop, as though hunted by the police. By evening, all Naples was talking of Brother Gerard.
The crops had been meager that fall, and by winter famine stalked the hills round Caposele. Gerard had been appointed porter there in November and was delighted: he had thus to care for the poor. Every morning, several hundred peasants came to the monastery for clothing and warm food. No matter how many came, there was always plenty. Food seemed to double and triple in his hands.
However, to the brother who baked the bread, this lavish charity of Gerard seemed imprudent. He had filled the pantry with fresh loaves that very morning . . . and there was not a loaf left. Hearing of this, the Rector reprimanded Gerard. There was nothing left for the community! Nothing for dinner! Gerard looked so dumbfounded that Rector and baker went down to the pantry to show him his folly. The baker threw open the cupboard, and . . . it was loaded with fresh baked bread.
When spring came in 1755, Gerard was extremely frail. Several times he had to take to his bed. But he recovered and accompanied a group of missionaries to Calitri, where his presence brought many back to the practice of the Faith. The mission was an outstanding success. That summer he made his last trip on business for the monastery, visiting a dozen towns and in many working wonders.
At the town of Senarchia, they were repairing the church roof. Workmen had felled great trees in the nearby woods. They were so heavy that a whole gang could not pull a single tree over the rough terrain to the church. Gerard heard of the problem and promised to help. The workmen followed him into the woods where he tied a stout rope to the largest log. “I command you to follow me.” He then pulled the huge trunk as though it were a child’s sled. The workmen, at his bidding did likewise, and the logs slid along at the slightest tug.
In the same town, a young mother was in danger of death after an extremely difficult birth. Gerard assured her friends that he would pray for her. Later, he told them the woman would recover. Both mother and child survived as he had predicted.
Auletta, Vietri da Potenza, San Gregorio, Buccino . . . Gerard visited town after town. At Buccino, he fell ill and the doctor advised that he go to Oliveto where the climate would be better for his lungs. Here he wrote to his Rector at Caposele, “Tell me what to do, I beg your Reverence. If you wish me home, I shall come at once. If you wish me to continue the tour, send me an emphatic obedience, and all will be well . . .” His superior wrote him to wait at Oliveto until he had strength enough to come home.
Materdomini
But Gerard’s strength was waning. He must set out for Caposele to spend his last days at Materdomini. On the way, he paid a brief visit to the Pirofalo family, telling them to watch for a white flag flying from the house at Materdomini. As long as they saw the flag, he would be alive. As a matter of fact, even on a clear day it was all but impossible to see that distance. But the family could see the monastery plainly, and the white flag flew all the days of September, and for half the following month.
Gerard had already left the house, when one of the Pirofalo girls called after him, telling him he had left his handkerchief. “Keep it,” he told her. “You may need it someday.” Long years after, when married and all but dying in childbirth, she remembered the words of Brother Gerard. She asked that the handkerchief be applied to her. Almost at once, her pain abated and she gave birth to her child.
Home at Last
The Rector of Materdomini was heartbroken that last day of August when Brother Gerard came back. He was so worn and emaciated! “Cheer up, Father. It is God’s Will,” said Gerard with a smile. “We must do His Will with gladness.” He scarcely stopped speaking of union with the Will of God. When Doctor Santorelli, the house physician, asked him if he wished to get well or to die, Gerard looked up from bed and answered simply, “I wish only what God wants.” His one last request was that a small white placard be tacked to his door with the inscription:
Here the Will of God is done, as God wills, and as long as God wills.
On September fifth, the acting Rector gave Gerard an obedience to get well. The Will of God! At once all trace of his malady vanished. He got out of bed, ate with the community, walked in the garden, and was present at all the religious exercises. For a full month, he was well again. Then on October fourth, he said to the doctor, “I should have died a month ago, but for obedience. Now my time is near. Tomorrow, I go to bed.” And so it was. For the next ten days, he grew steadily worse. The afternoon of October fifteenth, he tried to sit up, crying to his confreres, “Look! Look! It is the Madonna!” and fell into a sudden ecstasy of love. That evening at seven-thirty, he died. He was twenty-nine years, six months, and nine days old. For six years, he had been in religious life.
To recount the happening after his death in 1755 would demand a large book. Because of the numerous miracles performed through the saint’s intercession, proceedings for his canonization were instituted shortly after his death. In 1893, he was beatified. Eleven years later on December the eleventh, 1904, Pope Pius X proclaimed his solemn canonization at St. Peter’s in eternal Rome. Brother Gerard of Muro and Materdomini was now Saint Gerard of heaven and the whole world.
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