#(for the same reason i refuse to use self-checkout)

[girlwhyumad]

Girl, Why U Mad? Take charge of your anger and learn the secrets to live in peace.

Intro to a Girls’ Madness

           

One of the most revealing moments of my life occurred eight years ago during a quick run into the self-checkout line of a packed supermarket. There I stood a mother, wife, and overworked preachers’ kid in the twenty items or less lane with my then nine- and seven-year-old sons. I swiped my Visa debit card to pay for purchases. However, for some strange reason, I could not complete the transaction. I knew there were funds in my bank account since I got a paycheck that very morning. But the only message the register returned was one of these:

 “Ask cashier for assistance.”

I swiped my card repeatedly with no success before I did as the machine instructed, I approached the attendant who stood at the very front of the checkout area and I said,

“Sir, the register is not working.”

The attendant made no eye contact before I could ask I could formerly ask for his assistance, he said,

“I’m not a cashier, follow the instructions.”

Well of course I was a bit puzzled, I considered he was the closest uniformed person, stationed in the check-out area, and of course he was there to help. I stood there for a moment. Then, I walked back to the register and asked God to make it work. Maybe I missed something, because hey - just maybe I missed something. So, I swiped my card again but only this time I paid extra attention to how I inserted the debit card.

I got the very same message,

“Ask cashier for assistance.”

I returned to the attendant,

“The register is telling me to see you for further assistance,” I said.

The attendant responded, “Not my problem.”

I at that point I had had it, so I said, “Well you’re pretty much useless.”

I spent another ten seconds to explain that I could not proceed with the transaction without his help, that did go anywhere because after a few seconds of refusal, he finally admitted what he wanted to say all along,

“I’m not paid to do all that.”

By this point I was mad. Jesus was no longer on my mind nor in my radar. My immediate reaction, ATTACK!

“Dude, you’re an idiot!”

That is the clean version. I conjured up a few impolite two letter words that began with F and ended with the letter U which made matters worse.

                 "What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you?

Is it not this that your passions are at war within you?

                                         James 4:1

You see precious minutes had been wasted. I wanted to make my purchase and I wanted the attendant to do his job, like right at that moment. I rightfully deserved, help. I had already dragged my kids out to the grocery store and spent about an hour to collect just under twenty items. Does he not know kids and a grocery store do not mix? Someone must make the register work. The register must work -at that very moment, just for me…right? I needed relief. I wanted results right now. Let me ignore, I have two small children watching their mother communicate with an absolute stranger during a difficult moment. He and I continued a terrible screaming match that had my youngest son in tears. I used a lot of colorful words to stick a knife through the attendants’ heart. I saw red. A manager eventually came out of his office onto the floor and to make a long story short, the police arrived. The attendant was fired for his bad behavior, but I was not fired for mine.

I left the supermarket with a cart full of free food (as an apology from the store manager, thanks again mister) with anger towards the attendant but even more frustration with myself. How did I allow a person, a stranger I might add, to get me so upset that we screamed back and forth with one another which left my children afraid? The was the ultimate breakthrough. I felt responsible for my children’s fears. I did not protect them. I caused their pain. I vividly remember my eldest son later ask,

“Why U MAD mommy? Why can’t you talk softly?”

Talking about crawling under a rock, I wanted to crawl out of earth. I knew immediately why my son asked that question. My son was not old enough to say “Mom you are too loud, very rude, and mommy you’re angry too” but I knew what my nine-year old meant.

The attendant was obviously wrong to speak to me in the manner that he did since I was a customer. He refused to assist me. I, however, had fault too. My reaction to his bad behavior made me an equal culprit. My hands were not clean.. It was not the first time my son heard me shout when angry. I used expletive language that would embarrass even the most vulgar person. You see my sons’ question forced me to reevaluate me and my crazy. The crazy thing was up until that point I did not know I was mad. I knew I was involved in a lot of drama, but I did not know I was a mad woman. But I was triggered. Yes, I was triggered very easily. But I knew I was the familiar face in all the shouting episodes. Like the time I was screaming obscenities at the slow driver because I was in a rush behind the wheel of my car. How about the cashier at the Wendy’s drive through who failed to greet me as I drove up so I gave her attitude just so she could respond in a negative manner than I could spaz out (go crazy) on her. That is folks, madness. And what about when my husband failed to rub my six-month pregnant fat feet after a long day at work, so I kindly walked into our bedroom where he lay watching TV and threw the 50-inch television off the stand. Side bar- People, I was pregnant, that was hormones, I think. Speaking of pregnancy, I attacked, yes, I physically attacked a woman after she dismissed my request to play age-appropriate music at a teen party. How ridiculous was I? I slashed tires, broke glass, and was downright mean when provoked.

Let me come back to this thought, I attacked a woman at a teen party for inappropriate music.

I physically assaulted relatives while not pregnant and said very unkind words in the name of superiority.

"Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but

The Lord weighs the heart."

                                                              Proverbs 21 vs 2

I was the last word woman.

We all know a last word woman, or you are that person. The last word woman is a woman who must have a final commentary in an argument or any contentious debate- just because she wants to win the argument. The idea is to “finish you off” sentiment. It’s no different from a check mate during a chess game or the winning shot of a final four basketball game.  I had to have the final say, the very last word in every argument. Period. Since I was that last word woman, somehow, I had convinced myself people attacked me for no good reason. I had to respond to any negative feedback even when I was not in the right. I wanted to “stick it” to whoever crossed me. Everyone else was rude and I was the target, poor me. I lost my cool many times but that day for sure was at its’ worst, it was the worst because I caused my children hurt.                               

I could cut a person down with my tongue when there was an ounce of me being triggered. I was unapologetically mean and vulgar when pushed-or brushed. Mad people hurt people. Hurt people hurt people. But the madness I struggled with went beyond normal behavior. There was always a need for revenge. The anger exceeded all level of crazy. I hurt people I loved and usually felt awful about it afterwards. Often, I was very upset and embarrassed with myself, but I would end up blaming others for my actions. Let me be clear, these are not positive things about myself but for sure it was a revelation.

That very day I knew I had work to do. I did not like the person I was. But finding a cure was impossible. How do I fix a thirty-six-year-old wife and mother with a bad attitude? I attended church, prayed, fasted, and did all the meditating in the world but once faced with an uncomfortable situation it would all go out the door. But it did not take long after the supermarket incident for me to develop in my mind tactics to inject less of me and more of connecting something greater than myself. You see, things could not work for me because I did not like the person I was, how I behaved and of course I knew I could not trust myself. I reflected on powerful messages, biblical messages, prayer, and reflect on things that uplift me. No one could have changed the way the attendant responded that day. But I could control the way I did. So, I set myself on a path to understand why I was triggered by my violent responses. I wanted to know why I responded in such an awful way. I love my children. If it took breaking me to help them, I was willing to do it. So, since you elected to read this book, you may have had one too many supermarket moments.  You are a woman, a daughter, maybe a mother, a sister, a friend, single, married, too busy, or maybe not. You may consider yourself successful or maybe not, comfortable or maybe not, overwhelmed, underpaid, overworked, unappreciated, uninspired, and or all in between who struggle with the madness day to day. You want to address it. I am calling you out you mad woman. You deserve a second look because your condition does not work for you or anyone who experience you.  Have you had one too many outbursts?  If I had to guess you are not seeing the “best” you in real form.

Hey, I am not a psychiatrist nor am I a licensed therapist. In fact, this book is my personal journey to taking charge of my anger and finding peace in the very simplest way. My journey completed in seven days but my commitment to this would last much longer. If you are struggling with your mad, or struggling to release frustration, you can achieve the unachievable plague of madness, with simple steps. This book will teach you ways to face your mad, how to respond to hard things and to how experience hard people, it won’t come from you. My hope is to help you to dig deep because God gives us the ability to do it and to do it better than we can imagine.

Here’s what I know about me: I am a loyal, loving, driven and an understanding person. But as loyal as I am I also can become a very mean, cold. All in a milli-second. I realized I needed to change. To do so I had to tune out my own emotions and channel in what the bible said about me. My hope is this book would help to rid you of unnecessary fights and move you upwards because there lies within us greatness. Knowing this, you find self-love, patience and an internal peace that leads to satisfying relationships. You will learn about my journey and techniques I used to find my center. You will read some of my own real-life experiences, real issues, real consequences that taught me how to grow. You will learn about anger and ways it affects your day-to-day life. You see, life experiences teach us. I cancelled my peace to go gun for his. To be crystal clear, we all know there are people that will work your very last nerve for no good reason. There are people placed on earth to find all your wrongs and hate you for your right. We all know at times people can do all the wrong things to give you a good reason to lose your cool. That my friend, will not change. The point of this book is for you to be able to walk upright, chin up, shoulders broad, and your head perked throughout a highly stressful situation. You should be able to walk away from a tense situation knowing respectfully that you could avoid choking another human being who struck accord. You walk away with clean hands, class and dignity. Listen, I get it, folks will test you, they will pull ugly out, and then you end up with the ugly shame cry later. But that incident made me realize that I was doing harm, no good for myself. My level of madness had trickled to my babies. What example was I setting for my kids?

Do you feel guilty about not responding like a “normal” person would? Normal people right – who are they? Everyone has a trigger point, but it is important to know that the bible says in

Proverbs 15 vs 18 “ a hot-tempered person stirs up conflict, but the one who is patient calms a quarrel”.

Triggers are likely to cause more disturbance.

Proverbs 20 vs 3 “It is to one’s honor to avoid strife, but every fool is quick to quarrel”.  

You are no fool. Because you are embarrassed by your response suggests you are ready. Do you struggle for calm words in a debate? Do you debate when there is none? Do you struggle to respond in less aggressive way? Or are you accused often of being aggressive? Do you create friction just for the hell of it? Are you unsure of how to pick yourself back up? Are you ready to break free?

Do you want to stop feeling guilty about the way you behaved? Are you prepared to keep triggers at bay when an idiot does not respond the way they should? Do you get mad when faced with emotionally difficult situations? Or you too can kill someone with your words? So, it sounds like you are ready to end the burning pain in your chest (it is not heartburn either). If you are mad and you don’t know how to turn it off, you can change how you respond by following these steps. Do you want to come out on top? Psst, it will not be easy. In fact, this seven-day challenge will be a lifetime one. Because the next seven days is guaranteed to bring you to tears, fears and your truth. When faced with the hard facts you can make a change. But hey, let’s be honest, you and I both know, being mad blocks, your God given right to live in peace. Peace is necessary for a fulfilling life. Do you want to start living? I challenge you to be honest with yourself and start the greatest aspect of life, living in God’s presence, in His peace. Now push.

#secrets #ultimate #hack #breakthrough #insider #growth #unbelievable #love #kindness #peace #joy #motivational #inspirational #powerful

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

Beefing With Robots

My drugstore got a lot more self checkouts. We still have a cashier at the front and one by our mall side entrance but we also have seven self checkouts. Because we don’t tend to have a never ending flow of customers, us cashiers also work on stock and tidying up the aisles, thus we are not always stationed at the tills. So, what people see is an empty till and a butt ton of self checkouts. However, instead of reading the signs on our counters that say “PLEASE RING FOR SERVICE” with a wee bell beside them, customers will stalk down all the aisles to find a uniformed individual and complain that there’s no cashiers anymore.

Have ye any idea how many times I have had a customer rant to me about our nonexistent cashiers whilst my name tag clearly displays that as my position? I had a lady tell me that we were forcing her to use the self checkout now because no one was at the counter anymore. Force her? You’d think we were dragging this lady by the scruff and throwing her in front of the robot version of us and threatening her with death if she refused to pay there. Nay, there’s no forcing going on here, simply a lack of reading.

There will also be the people who brave the automated checkouts but instantly get flustered when the screen changes and instead of taking a breath and puzzling it out, they get immediately enraged and stomp off in a huff. Humans have fought in countless wars. We have survived from the stone age to now. We have ancestors who were conquerors, generals, inventors, philosophers. A self checkout can be figured out, it’s not the end of the world. I get that technology is finicky, my till shuts down on a regular basis, but letting one’s irritation of something new consume them so completely in such a short amount of time when reading the screen would save them so much trouble is astounding.

I also enjoy when people actually do ring my bell, but because I don’t teleport there in two seconds, they get impatient and use the self serve instead. Or, they’re in line and I’m serving someone, and that someone takes a minute to get out a card and the human behind does that thing where they sigh really loudly to show their exasperation before marching to the self checkout. I find that funny because they are the same people who complain about no cashiers yet haven't the patience to let us do our jobs.

It’s a funny little world we live in for sure with these automated machines. I understand people's grievances with them, I have my own. They replace people but people don’t get any higher wage despite there being less of us. They break down, malfunction, don’t always take cash or coupons or sell gift cards. They aren’t human and don’t give that human connection so many of us crave and enjoy. There are benefits though, they’re good if you don’t like talking to people. I use them for that reason as much as I can. They’re an option to avoid a long lineup at times. They feel less rushed because they aren’t a person with an agenda.

A balance still needs to be found for sure, but rest assured, there will always be at least one human to serve as well as these mechanical entities. When in doubt, use those squishy seeing orbs in your noggin to locate helpful clues like a sign or instructions. It’s amazing how much reading things can aid us in any confusion.

#rants #writing #blog #weeklyblog #friday post #retail

[ripples-of-thought]

Abortion in 1987

My junior year in high school I met a young man from a rival school during a New Year's Eve lock-in at a roller-skating rink. This is about what happened about 8 months later, just before my senior year.

Since I had a steady boyfriend, I started on "The Pill". My mother knew I was having sex with him and supported my decision to use birth control. At the time I was not living with her, so I went to Planned Parenthood. Although I could not have afforded them full price, PP allowed me to purchase them on a sliding scale. It worked well for months; however, as time passed I started to get a little sloppy about taking my pill on time every day. Some nights I'd forget altogether, and the next morning I'd swallow the previous night's pill with a prayer that this one time wouldn't be the one that got me pregnant. One month at the end of the summer, my period didn't show.

I was anxious about getting pregnant, so I got a home pregnancy test as soon as I was a week late. The next morning, I peed on the stick. One line was negative, two lines... yes, the two lines right there on the stick... that meant positive. I was pregnant. I told my boyfriend, the one I was "in love" with. He meant the world to me, and would be my rock. Since my menses were normally very regular, I was pretty sure there was no mistake, but before being able to do anything, I would need a doctor's confirmation anyway. Back to Planned Parenthood I went, where they were able to verify the results, again at a price even a high school student in the 'burbs could afford.

The fact that this doctor's visit, and the potentially life-changing nature of it, seemed so routine that, years after, I've nearly forgotten it, is a testament to the professionalism of the care I received at that clinic. Everything was calm that day. The anxiety of deliberation all came afterward.

I told my parents. Being a pregnant teenager is scary, but I had two parents who loved me, and a mother who told me she'd support whatever decision I made.

She very much wanted me to be able to follow my own heart and mind about this, and I admire and appreciate that. I knew the history of abortion in the USA, had seen Dirty Dancing, I knew other times and other families had provided neither the freedom nor support that mine did. I was, and am, grateful for that.

But to no fault of theirs, I was not able to freely choose what to do with my body - whether to use it to continue growing this other human, or have the procedure that would end my pregnancy. My choice was smashed to pieces by my "rock".

For, while I was weighing the options - whether my family, my education and means, had room for an infant at this time... whether I was strong enough to carry a baby to term only to give it up to an adoptive family to care for it beyond my ability... whether to terminate the pregnancy and carry on with life's plans (such as they were) as if I'd never been pregnant... my boyfriend was thinking about his future career in the military.

His only ambition his entire life was to be part of an elite military unit such as the US Special Forces (the Green Berets) or what he saw as their modern equivalent, the Airborne Infantry. He was already a career Boy Scout, and an Eagle Scout, something he took great pride in. He'd talked to recruiters and was ready to enlist as soon as he graduated. And he saw my pregnancy as a threat to that.

At least, that's what he told me. I really can't understand his reasoning now... and I'm not sure I even seriously questioned it then. When I told him that I was considering adoption instead of abortion, he refused to even consider it. He couldn't stand the thought of "his" child being "somewhere out there" ...raised by someone else. He told me that if I did not have an abortion, I would never see him again.

There's a lot of hurt behind that statement... hurt that actually has nothing to do with him. Because while he had plans for a career after high school, I did not. I had vague ideas about what I wanted to do... I wanted to be artistic. I wanted to paint and write... but beyond that... I had no idea. I certainly didn't have plans for university... I didn't have the money to pay for it myself and I didn't have the grades or extra-curricular activities to get me a scholarship.

I knew I wasn't cut out for the military. I lacked the discipline and the physical fitness for that kind of life, whatever the film STRIPES made it out to be. So that left ...what? Becoming someone's domestic help? Being a grocery checkout clerk? Becoming a ...housewife? And with graduation looming ahead, I knew my days as a carefree teen were numbered. My mother had said so, jokingly, a few years before. I took it way too literally and way too personally. Mom had quipped about my dad's brother living in his parents' house in his 30's... "When you turn 18, you're on your own, kiddo." She didn't mean it. Hell, she wasn't even really talking about me at all! It was about her ex-brother-in-law, but I didn't realize that at 14 and I didn't realize it at 17. And so it went until that day... My self-esteem defining me through my romantic partnerships, never as the hero of my own story. So when he said my pregnancy threatened his future, and said he'd walk if I didn't terminate, I saw my future, the only future I could envision, endangered. I saw this pregnancy as a threat to the marriage I expected and all the children he and I might have in the future.

When I told my mom about my decision to terminate, I didn't tell her why. She took it calmly, but told me years later that she had been hoping I would choose differently. She offered to be there for me, she paid for part of it, and my boyfriend paid the rest. She drove me there and took me home after.

The Planned Parenthood in Beaverton did not perform abortions, and they referred me to a clinic in Northwest Portland, close to downtown. I had to make one appointment for "counseling" in which I had to lie and say that nobody was forcing me to get an abortion, and then I could set the appointment for the procedure.

I suppose that, in my mind, it wasn't really a lie. If I had been a stronger personality at the time, I could have refused to abort the pregnancy and sued him for child support... I never think about this event without a list of "what-ifs" as long as my arm.

I remember it as quiet, clean, with a neutral palette. I don't remember any of the other young women. It was the most normal thing really... just a trip to the doctor... just an "outpatient procedure". The table, the stirrups, the speculum... just like any gynecological visit I'd ever been to. I didn't pay much attention to the aspirator (the machine that provides the suction) and just focused on breathing slowly and staying relaxed. I was given local anesthetic and it was over very quickly.

I remember waiting in the recovery room for my mom to take me home, and I was relieved that it was over with. I was sorry that I had felt the need to do it, and I remember even apologizing to the fetus. I had already started believing in reincarnation as a teenager, and hoped that in the future, the same spirit might grow within another body that mine would build, when I was ready to have children. This was just not that time.

What followed the next week was pretty much what I usually went through during my period. Cramps, bleeding, and then... life went on.

I do want to write about that arms-length list of "what-ifs"... but this post, this blog, is not about what could have happened. It's about what did happen. And what did happen was not nearly as traumatic as some would have you expect.

It didn't result in any more depression than I was already experiencing due to undiagnosed chronic conditions. It's far more truthful to say that my depression led to needing an abortion than that my abortion caused depression.

I was not wracked with guilt afterward... although years later when I went through a Christian conversion experience I did feel a sort of guilt about not feeling guilty...

One out of four women in the USA have an abortion at some point in their lives. The reasons they list for having one are usually complex, involving multiple facets of their life; most often some intersection of emotional and financial stability. My story is not rare. It's common. It's normal.

It's okay.

For more information about the effect of unwanted pregnancy and abortion on the women who experience it, I recommend reading The Turnaway Study.

#abortion #reproductive rights #teen pregnancy #sexuality #reproductive health #gender equality #reproductive freedom #right to life #pro life #pro choice

[cindylouwho-2]

RECENT NEWS, RESOURCES & STUDIES, late February 2020

Welcome to my latest summary of recent ecommerce news, resources & studies including search, analytics, content marketing, social media & Etsy! This covers articles I came across since the early February report, although some may be older than that. I am a bit behind due to my trip last week and other events, but some things here are a bit time-sensitive so I wanted to release this now. 

I am still looking into setting up a new ecommerce business forum where we can discuss this sort of news, as well as any day-to-day issues we face. I need some good suggestions for a cheap or free forum space that has some editing tools, is fairly intuitive for inexperienced members, and is accessible. If you have any suggestions, please reply to this post, email me on my website, or send me a tweet. (I will put out a survey once we narrow this down to some good candidates, but if you have any other comments on what you want from such a forum, please include those too!)

As always, if you see any stories I might be interested in, please let me know!

TOP NEWS & ARTICLES 

Since we are seeing more shops closed due to Etsy’s customer service level standards, my blog post on ODR now has major revisions explaining what we have learned, and includes some tips for staying out of trouble and if necessary, appealing a suspension. Please circulate the info widely, as many sellers still haven’t heard about this, and some were closed without having any clue this was possible. 

Mobile continues to grow while desktop use is slowly shrinking. It should affect how we design web pages. “Mobile visitors also behave differently from their desktop web counterparts, staying on pages for shorter periods of time, for example.” Other interesting takeaways from this SimilarWeb report: “[Facebook] lost 8.6% of [web] traffic over the past year alone” but increased in app sessions. 

The price of domains ending in “.com” will almost certainly be going up soon, and will go up most years after that, unless something changes at the last minute. If you are absolutely certain that you will continue to use the same domain name for your website, blog, ecommerce forwarding etc., then you might consider paying a few years in advance to save a few bucks. 

Another article explaining how people are selling thrift store and vintage clothing on Instagram, without setting up a checkout/cart anywhere. (The article focusses on teenagers, but does reference other examples.)

ETSY NEWS 

Two weeks ago, Etsy Support posted on Twitter that they were no longer monitoring the account, and asked everyone to use the help page maze instead when they need support. Forum thread here.  

Another trend report for 2020 from Dayna Isom Johnson [podcast links & transcript] She leads off with tips on how to get featured: “ so it's incredibly important to see a bright representation that really clearly shows your product...Do be original. I'm always trying to find the latest and the greatest that isn’t already on the shelves...Do be inclusive. ... I'm talking about models of all ethnicities, all genders, all body types, all ages.” Etsy chose chartreuse as their colour of the year: “in the last three months, there's been a 12% increase in searches for green already, and a 55% increase in neon green.” The wedding trends part was mostly already covered in a blog post, but she does also answer a few seller questions. 

Website user experience (UX) is a big part of getting people to convert, and an outside group ranks Etsy’s as “acceptable”. Many will be unsurprised that search gets a score of “mediocre” and Accounts & Self-Service get a “poor” grade.  

The migration to Google Cloud services is complete, so now Etsy can run more experiments more often, including those involving AI. (Although the forum thread was laughing at the idea of bad reviews helping shops, there is actually some research supporting that, so it is a logical thing to test.)

Etsy sellers in the US, UK & Canada who use Instagram can apply to win a trip to Etsy HQ here, until March 1.

Etsy is launching an Etsy U program which just seems a bit sketchy. Forum thread here.

Reverb (owned by Etsy) named a new Chief Technology Officer on Feb. 18.

SEO: GOOGLE & OTHER SEARCH ENGINES 

Google does not confirm every large search update, so this one remains a mystery at the moment, since Google refused to give an answer. That means it’s not a core update. 

Another video (with subtitles in several languages) from the SEO for Beginners series from Google, on the basics you need for good website SEO. 

If you are interested in “searcher intent”, this 500 person survey asks about what people are really looking for, and what they think of the search results the end up with. Overwhelmingly, they say they prefer organic results to ads, and the majority see targeted ads that they can’t figure out the reason/s behind. “Sixty-eight percent responded that Google adding more ads to the search results would make them want to use the search engine less.” Also, a slight majority preferred text results to images, video, & audio. “When asked which factor had the most significant impact on their decision to click a result, 62.9% responded it was the description, followed by 24.2% who said the brand name, and 13% who said title.” That means that the first part of your Etsy listing description, or the coded meta description on a page on your website, has the most influence on people clicking on your link once they see it. 

I usually strongly suggest that people setting up their own websites make sure they do some SEO work & keyword research for their category/shop section pages, and it turns out that there is new research showing I am correct. “Specifically, e-commerce category pages – which include parent category, subcategory and product grid pages with faceted navigation – ranked for 19% more keywords on average than product detail pages ranked for. The additional keywords they ranked for drove an estimated 413% more traffic, based on the keywords’ search demand and the pages’ ranking position. With optimization, those ranking category pages also showed the potential to drive 32% more traffic.”

Semi-advanced: explaining the (seemingly endless) debate on whether subdomains or subdirectories are better for SEO. 

SEO study - do you really need to use H1 tags on a page? Maybe not, although some screen readers recognize them as the page title so they help with accessibility. (Etsy & many other marketplaces don’t let you make this coding choice, so don’t worry about it there.)

Confused about how to apply all of these SEO tips I post here to your Shopify site? Good news! Here’s a list of what is most important for Shopify SEO. Note the attention to setting up your category pages, which is something I completely agree with. (it’s by Ahrefs so of course it pushes their tools; you don’t need to pay for that.)

CONTENT MARKETING & SOCIAL MEDIA (includes blogging & emails) 

Some businesses say social media doesn’t work, but maybe they aren’t doing it right. See if you are making one or more of these three mistakes. “Understanding who your target audience is - what they want, what they need, where you fit in, etc. - is critical to maximizing your social media marketing performance.”

Email marketing also works better if you do it right, so here are 5 things you might be doing wrong. And if you like a quick read, here’s an infographic on the psychology of email marketing. 

8 ideas for getting more interactions on Facebook (detailed infographic).

More fourth quarter reports continue: Pinterest’s 4th quarter revenue was up 46% but they lost $1.36 billion, and they are introducing a verified merchant program. “Almost all (97%) of the top searches on Pinterest are unbranded, according to the company, giving merchants a chance to stand out.”

Want to tap into that Pinterest traffic? You should because “90% of weekly Pinterest users log in to make buying decisions.”  Here are 10 ways to get more attention, followers, and pins. 

Like almost all social media, Twitter has an algorithm that mediates what users see (although you can turn it off, or use apps such as Tweetdeck to get around it as a reader). Ranking factors include recency, engagement, media and activity. The article includes a few tips on how to make it work for you, but then slides into promoting its app as the solution - you can just skip that part. 

ONLINE ADVERTISING (SEARCH ENGINES, SOCIAL MEDIA, & OTHERS) 

Google search ads get more results than Facebook and Instagram, simply because more people who see them want to buy something. “Less expensive products tend to sell better than more expensive ones on Facebook and Instagram, per the study.”

If you are running ads where you can choose your keywords, don’t forget to examine your organic search results and impressions for new words to advertise. Google Search Console is a great source.

If you found Instagram ads too expensive, check out this post on how the ads are priced, which can help you make decisions on your spend. 

ECOMMERCE NEWS, IDEAS, TRENDS 

Amazon has nearly 40% of the US ecommerce market, according to a report by eMarketer. Etsy is not in the top 10; eBay is 3rd behind Walmart. 

Sales on Shopify sites during the Black Friday-Cyber Monday long weekend went up 61% to $3 billion in 2019. They claim that the “direct -to-consumer” approach can be successful for both big & small brands. 

Japanese authorities are going after Rakuten for the ecommerce company’s push to make its sellers offer free shipping. 

eCommerceBytes’ annual Sellers Choice survey placed eBay first out of the online marketplaces that were rate. Note that this is not a scientific survey and largely covers the site’s readership only. Bonanza was the most improved & Etsy showed the worst drop (from 1st to 5th place). 

A review of that article last month that says ecommerce sites should have info pages as well as product pages, if only for SEO reasons. The author approves. 

The CBC show Marketplace did a large test buying branded items on AliExpress, Amazon, eBay, Walmart and Wish. It turns out that most were fake. 

Facebook’s cryptocurrency plans (Libra) finally have a partner: Shopify. The potential benefits include no credit card processing fees. 

BUSINESS & CONSUMER STUDIES, STATS & REPORTS; SOCIOLOGY & PSYCHOLOGY, CUSTOMER SERVICE 

Younger people (think Gen Z) expect to see gender treated expansively and beyond traditional stereotypes, and they expect this from companies and advertising. “Half of women and four in 10 men in the U.S. now believe that there is a spectrum of gender identities, according to a recent Ipsos poll titled "The Future of Gender is Increasingly Nonbinary." An additional 16% of those surveyed said they know a person who identifies as transgender”

MISCELLANEOUS (including humour) 

Google employees are pushing back against the sea change in the company’s culture and values - and some are being fired. 

Turns out that the “Peleton Wife” ad might not have hurt them as much as you might think. However, their stock dropped 12% after the fourth quarter report showed a 77% increase in revenue that still managed to be below market predictions. Interesting discussion around going viral in a negative fashion.

#Cindylouwho2newsupdates #seo #search engine optimization #search engine marketing #Etsynews #etsy #social media #Contentmarketing #Content marketing #ecommerce #Smallbiz #Seotips #Customer service #Ppc advertising #onlinemarketing #ecommercetips #EmailMarketing #socialmedianews

[berniesrevolution]

Rochester, New York, is a notorious model of terrible urban planning and idiotic corporate sponsorship. On the underdeveloped side of the Genesee River, next to the bus station, sits the “National Museum of Play,” an odd institution founded by Margaret Woodbury Strong — a Rochester native who inherited millions of dollars and used it to collect thousands of dolls.

The museum has rotating exhibits, but its centerpiece is an elaborate model of a Wegmans grocery store, sponsored by Wegmans, which is owned by the Wegmans family, which is the area’s sole billion-dollar dynasty.

In the mini Wegmans “Super Kids Market,” children select groceries (plastic produce, but real cereal boxes and genuine Chef Boyardee cans) from real grocery shelves, put them in real (miniaturized) Wegmans shopping carts, ring them up on functioning cash registers with real grocery scanners, and print themselves real receipts with a real Wegmans logo at the top.

It’s so fun. Pretend to work in a grocery store? Pretend to have money? Pretend you alone are in charge of what you eat and all you are going to eat forever is Cinnamon Toast Crunch and alphabet soup? Amazing.

But (for me, at least) that was the late ’90s. Far from novelty or spon-con child’s game, self-checkouts pop up everywhere now: at the new Target in Barclays Center where I buy my useless seasonal objects and knockoff Urban Outfitters clothes; at the CVS where I buy my disgusting seasonal candy; at the Panera Bread where I buy a seasonal autumn squash soup and half a grilled cheese. I’ve heard they are in grocery stores throughout the city, but I refuse to look.

I saw a self-checkout in the Urban Outfitters in Herald Square and almost called the ACLU: Some lucky employee sits on a stool near the self-checkout stations and does nothing but remove ink tags from things before you buy them? Sure. What is a person if not just a slightly more dexterous arm than the ones that robots so far have?

Blessedly, I am not alone in fearing self-checkout. John Karolefski, a self-proclaimed undercover grocery shopping analyst who runs the blog Grocery Stories and contributes to the site Progressive Grocer, tells me, “I’m in a lot of supermarkets around the country. I watch people. I can tell you that I’ve been in stores where the lines that have cashiers are very, very long, and people are a little upset, and there are three or four self-checkout units open and nobody is using them.

“Wouldn’t the shopper be better served, customer service improved, if those weren’t there?” he asks. I’m not arguing. “Why do I want to scan my own groceries?” he asks. I have no idea! “Why do I want to bag my own groceries?” he asks. An equally reasonable question with no reasonable answer. The simple solution, he points out, would be to hire enough cashiers to serve the number of customers that typically shop at the store. I agree, and this seems very obvious.

But before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s go back. To 1917, when Clarence Saunders opened the first grocery store — a Piggly Wiggly in Memphis, Tennessee — where customers were permitted to remove items from shelves and put them into a hand basket without the assistance of a clerk. He successfully patented this idea, called the “Self-Serving Store,” which is ridiculous. It took 60 years for the idea to move forward in a meaningful way, which it did when Florida business executive David R. Humble created (and patented) a self-service register and founded a company called CheckRobot in 1984.

Because it was a bad idea, it did not do very well. CheckRobot hemorrhaged money, then merged with a similarly flailing Jacksonville, Florida, software company in 1991. Kmart was the first big-box American retailer to add the company’s self-checkouts to its stores in 2001, and in 2003, it took them out.

A few more rounds of acquisitions and asset relocations brought Humble’s original idea into IBM’s hands in 2003, where it still didn’t find mass adoption. IBM is not even currently the major player in the self-checkout game — that designation goes to Atlanta-based National Cash Register Corporation, which survived a few juicy bribery scandals and one brush with violating US sanctions in Syria, and today boasts that it produces nine out of every 10 self-checkouts in the UK. (Its FastLane system is probably most familiar to Americans as the go-to at Walmart and Home Depot.)

Fujitsu, a Japanese tech company acquired by Montreal-based Optimal Robotics in 2004, supplies the systems you’ll see in major grocery store chains like Kroger (the largest grocer in the US), Harris Teeter (a popular Kroger sub-brand in the South), and, before its demise in 2015, the major Northeastern chain Pathmark (formerly an off-shoot of ShopRite, owned by A&P).

Each time a projection for future adoption rates of self-checkouts is made, it is wrong. In 2006, the same year Target was telling press that it had no plans to experiment with self-checkouts, IHL Consulting Group predicted there would be 200,000 self-checkout lanes in operation by 2007. There were only 191,000 by 2013. Experts then predicted that number would rise to 325,000 by 2019, but by 2016 there were only 240,000 and numbers were revised again. Most recently, the BBC has predicted there will be 468,000 by 2021. We’ll see, but there are still less than 300,000 worldwide right now, and seemingly everyone hates them.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #VOX #corporatism

[jaehyunpeachy]

i am you // you are me - yoonkook - 5k

some weird soulmate shit happens.

read: yoongi keeps running into this cute cashier boy. and they keep matching?

(music to listen: 1. belief - mabinc 2. i am you you are me - zico 3. soulmate - zico ft. iu)

man, seoul has a completely different atmosphere and air to it - way different than in daegu. literally, the air smells different here and yoongi thinks it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that he notices this small and random detail just makes him a little more depressed because he longs for his cozy home back in good ole d-town.

he’s lounging in a flimsy lawn chair on his apartment balcony and distastefully sniffs the stuffy seoul air again. his mind wanders back to old, familiar places - the bustling family restaurant, his mom’s soothing voice, his father beckoning him to taste the family’s famous galbi-jjim , his brother’s annoying method of showing affection via noogies when yoongi grudgingly accepts his chores for the day.

the fond memories in his head are juxtaposed with the outside sound and sight of the bustling nighttime atmosphere. everything in seoul is so,fast-paced , even the night life, which he can clearly see from his vantage point. he hasn’t really gotten used to it all, more like, barely tolerating it. he’s kinda stubbornly refusing to settle completely which serves to make him more homesick and then he’s stuck in this cycle of stubbornness and nostalgia and longing and stubbornness and nostalgia and longing.

yoongi breaks his nostalgic reverie when he stands up, the chair loudly scraping against the floor. if he’s going to drown himself in memories and be a sad, depressed sack he might as well do it right - with some alcohol.

he checks the fridge to grab a can of beer but fuck - he’s out. all that’s left is a pack of sliced turkey meat, a sad pile of lettuce, a lone half-empty gallon of milk, and a fully empty carton that used to hold eggs.

damn, his produce is mocking him.

just a few hours ago when he opened his fridge he saw the same turkey, lettuce, milk, and egg carton and the word minimalism smugly appeared in his head. yoongi prides himself on not being wasteful; he’s able to use each and every one of his ingredients until they’re completely gone, thank you very much.

but seeing as he’s in a less than ideal mood to be holed up at home and he has a dire need of alcohol, yoongi tears his eyes away from his sad produce, grabs his wallet and keys, and wrestles himself into a big sweater to combat the chilly night-time seoul air. he grumbles as he steps out of his apartment complex. daegu was always on the warmer side. who knows, maybe the seoul air will help clear his head. maybe.

yoongi finds himself deep in thought as he’s walking, a result of his melancholy mood and the atmosphere of night probably. as a result, he doesn’t realize that he’s actually not walking in the direction of the nearest 7-eleven. when he hears the distant sound of a car angrily honking five times - goddamn, chill - he’s shaken out of his thoughts and glances at his surroundings.

nice. he’s in a random alley.

well, way to go min yoongi. this night is just continually fucking with him and becoming more and more disappointing. he takes a minute to inwardly curse at himself for his obliviousness before he has the smart idea of grabbing his phone out his pocket. he googles the nearest convenience store. the top result is ten yards from his current location.

he rounds a corner and walks a few paces before he spots it. only a single neon sign that reads “ level” adorns its storefront and he assumes that’s what the store is called. yoongi power walks toward it, through the front door, and straight towards where he thinks they should be keeping the alcohol because dammit, he is a man on a mission.

somewhere on the other end of the store, which isn’t actually far from where yoongi stands now, the clock goes from 11:59 to 12:00.

yoongi surveys his surroundings. he’s bombarded with neon colors from every angle, which makes the store feel bigger than it actually is. from the outside, it looked cramped and dull and drab and not colorful. due to this very misleading outward appearance, yoongi immediately thinks that this is exactly the type of store that is empty seventy-five percent of the time and will most likely be out of business within the next month.

okay, it is midnight, but yoongi can tell when a store is being frequented or not, in this case: not. it’s the only possible explanation as to why his sneakers squeak so unusually loud on the unusually pristine tiles.

he strides towards the refrigerated area and for some reason, he feels a strange sense of familiarity, like he’s been here before; a type of vague awareness that comes from something like a dream.

actually, yoongi’s seen stores like this before. namjoon has a very cultured and particular sense of tumblr aesthetic and this store fits the bill perfectly.

yoongi chalks that niggling feeling as a latent reaction to all the posts he witnessed namjoon reblogging to his tumblr, as they sat on the couch on their respective phones. he’s suddenly bitter again because now, with his current situation and location , he can’t even call namjoon out for trying to be hipster because he’s too far away to even see namjoon or his stupid hipster-aesthetic-whatever tumblr in person.

yoongi spots the alcohol, finally, and grabs two - he hesitates and turns around - three bottles of the brand he likes and walks to the checkout station.

well fuck, he was hoping for a some sort of self-checkout machine - this is seoul, the largest metropolis of korea after all - but he should have known not to expect anything when he set foot inside.

god, he’s too impatient and drained and sad to deal with another human being but sucks up his feelings once again as he steps up to the counter. no one is actually there and yoongi spots a bell and rings it twice. a couple more times, more insistently, for good measure. suddenly he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. he checks and sees it’s from namjoon.

at that moment someone stumbles out of the ‘employees only’ door and utters a quick apology for making yoongi wait.

yoongi quickly glances up from the phone and sees that the cashier is a young twenty-something boy. all he sees is a mop of soft brown hair and just under it, a pair of soft brown eyes which he unwittingly makes eye contact with. but suddenly it is broken - the cashier beginning to ring up yoongi’s items, and yoongi looking back at his phone.

dance monster [12:10 am]

hyung

you’ll never guess wat happend today

me [12:10 am]

what

dance monster [12:11 am]

so u kno that tattoo i got a while back ????

me [12:11 am]

joon ur gonna have to be a little more specific

dance monster [12:11 am]

ok ok that one on my wrist !

the moon one !!1!1 !

me [12:11 am]

so...what

dance monster [12:11 am]

idek hyung like

ok fuck

this sounds so weird but like

for some reason i woke up this morning

me [12:11 am]

a goddamn miracle

dance monster [12:12 am]

shut up hyung

anyway i woke up

and now i have a new sun tattoo

me [12:12 am]

wait

what

dance monster [12:12 am]

idk !!! hyung idek wats goin on ajoer

i think it’d be better if u called me

asklejroijga

“excuse me?”

right, yoongi still needs to pay for his things. he jams his phone into his back pocket and fishes for his wallet. he awkwardly fumbles for some bills, “ah, sorry - here you go,” and all but flings them on the counter in his haste to get back to his conversation with namjoon and to go back home and avoid strangers altogether, let alone semi-attractive strangers.

it looks like his original plan of drowning in sorrow will have to be put on hold. nonetheless, he welcomes the new interruption in the form of his dear friend.

right as yoongi’s about to exit the store, the cashier calls out to him.

“um,” he pauses cutely, “nice sweater.”

yoongi looks down. it’s an old number, one that jimin got for him as a christmas present. it’s kinda not his style because it’s colorblocked - well, color in general - but it’s the first thing he found as he left his apartment and it’s oversized and it’s a gift. from jimin. so.

he looks up again and sees the exact same sweater on the cashier.

o-kay. what a coincidence.

at this moment, yoongi gets a really good look at the twenty-something cashier boy. well, as good of a look as he can seeing as half of cashier boy’s body is obscured by the counter.

the cashier is clearly taller and bigger than yoongi but the sweater still looks oversized and his fingers just barely peek out from under the sleeves. yoongi gets a good look at cashier boy’s doe eyes and button nose and his whole look just screams soft.   fuck semi-attractive. this guy is possibly the most attractive guy yoongi has ever seen. the most attractive person in seoul, by far. at least to yoongi’s standards. and this is only the visible half - yoongi gulps - doesn’t even want to think about anything lower than that.

he eloquently chokes out a word. “cool.”

real smooth, min yoongi.

well, time’s up. yoongi’s just about done with social interaction and he’s itching to get home and he wants to maybe forget this whole thing because goddamn, he’s awkward and the cashier is cute.

cashier boy blinks and fuck, yoongi can see his eyelashes from here. and then, cashier boy smiles , all twinkling eyes and soft lips, “have a nice evening, sir.”

yoongi bolts out of the door.

/

jungkook just barely managed to keep his fluster in check. he tried to not to stare at the strange man’s silvery hair, or at his sharp profile, or at his attractive piercings, three silver hoops on each ear - fuck, since when did jungkook find piercings on anyone but himself attractive?

but the thing that caught jungkook’s attention the most was the sweater. not the fact that it was so large that it swallowed the man’s entire frame but still made the entire fit scream effortless and attractive. not the fact that the color palette complimented his silver hair.

they had the same fucking sweater?

taehyung, who is privy to jungkook’s unique tastes, had carefully chosen the very sweater as a christmas present. he claims that he happened upon it in some random thrift store and thought it screamed jungkook and bought it even though christmas wasn't for another three months.

jungkook thinks otherwise. the sweater is just. so nice. taehyung probably bought it at a non thrift shop last minute, which would explain why jungkook ran into another person also wearing it. yeah. that would explain the coincidence. it’s definitely embarrassing, but people are bound to be caught wearing the same clothes, seeing as they’re mass produced for that reason - to be worn.

as he starts cleaning up, jungkook silently thanks himself for choosing the night shifts at level supermarket because 1. he likes staying up late 2. he gets to meet interesting and colorful characters like that one sweet ahjumma with cotton candy pink hair that comes in every day at 9:36 pm sharp to buy a bag of lollipops and nothing else, for example.

jungkook’s checking the inventory for the third time - it always helps to be extra thorough - but his mind begins to wander back to that silver-haired man.

a small - admittedly very small - part of him wants to never see that man again because he was a stranger, a very attractive stranger, and jungkook acted like such a freaking loser. god he’s blushing again. but the bigger- much bigger - part of him wants to see the silver-haired man again. like, he was fucking attractive. but also something about a frustrated looking man coming in a store at midnight that hardly anyone ever comes to just.

he’s like a novel jungkook is itching to read.

jungkook just wants to know.

jungkook wants to know. jungkook wants to know how this man likes his eggs cooked. does he have any tattoos? is he a morning person? okay, maybe not that because he’s up and about at midnight.

what is his opinion on soulmates? does he listen to dean? what does his smile look like? does he like smiling? is he a smiley person? is he doing okay?

because most of all, jungkook wants to tell him that things are going to be okay. something about this man seemed - lonely and jungkook has an urge to reach out and be like, me too, i understand, i hope you’re okay.

but. jungkook shakes his head to clear the thoughts. he’s doing it again. he’s getting ahead of himself and he’s doing that fantasizing thing he tends to do. at his core, jungkook is a very kind and empathetic person and the times he does feel good about himself he wants to meet people and reach out. back at his small hometown, the people were very friendly and accepting, and this made it easy for him. and with the town being so small, eventually jungkook knew everyone and everyone knew him and he was very comfortable with this.

however, this is seoul. and after making the difficult decision to leave the comfort of his town to pursue his dreams in the form of a dance degree, jungkook has learned that not everyone feels the same way in this city.

‘city people’   he thinks with distaste - but mostly - disappointment.

jungkook closes and locks the store’s front door, as well as his hopes for seeing the silver-haired man again. he’s no stranger to how this kind of thing works. nothing good happens when he gives into wishful thinking.

/

as soon as yoongi is back in the safety of his apartment he calls namjoon. “joon, what’s up?”

“okay, so. like. yeah. i don’t know, hyung!” yoongi goes to open a bottle of beer, his silence prompting namjoon to continue.

“i just woke up and now i have a new sun tattoo on my wrist! honestly, it looks pretty good paired with the one i already have of the crescent moon.”

“well, as long as you’re happy with it joon, i guess it’s cool.” yoongi takes a long gulp, “could’ve been worse. could’ve woken up with the word ‘penis’ tattooed in large letters instead.”

namjoon cackles heartily and yoongi smiles at the sound. “yeah, you’re right hyung.” he laughs again, “this is like some weird soulmate shit.

yoongi elegantly swallows some beer down the wrong airway. “yeah,” he coughs a few times to clear his throat, “come to think of it-,”

on second thought, maybe yoongi will keep cashier boy to himself. what happened earlier that night still felt - unreal. yoongi feels like he’ll break the enigmatic anonymity of the attractive cashier boy if he says anything.

“hyung?”

“no, nothing. nevermind,” yoongi changes the subject, “how’s that new track going?” and namjoon enthusiastically explains his progress.

/

the next day, yoongi finds himself slouched at his desk, pen tossed somewhere to the side. he’s looking down at what he can only call organized chaos atop his desk. this is usually how his song production process starts anyway. he scans some of the lyrics he just scribbled all over and he sees stuff like ‘ enigma and mystique ’ and ‘ eyes that hold stars ’ and ‘ deer in headlights... i’m struck by your beauty mystery loveliness- ’

uh-huh. yup.  okay. yoongi stands up and gathers all those loose leaf papers in a pile and goes to deposit them in the wastebin.

he pauses and throws them in a random drawer in his nightstand.

he needs to get out. he grabs his leather jacket draped across the back of his desk chair and power walks his way out of his apartment.

yoongi finds himself wandering the city again and wait. it’s that store again. what the fuck? did he just subconsciously make his way to back to the store and it’s attractive cashier-

shit. yoongi sees said cashier boy through the front windows, presumably stocking a shelf. he gets up and starts walking back to the counter, but as he’s doing that his body faces the front doors, which probably puts yoongi in his plain sight.

yoongi quickly backpedals, hoping he hasn’t been spotted.

he stands in place for a beat.

he refuses to acknowledge how hard his heart is hammering.

after much internal debate, yoongi decides that fuck it. he’s already here and he sees a huge jar of cheese puffs from where he’s standing and he might as well get that. because. he needs. inspiration.

he walks in, trying his best to put confidence in his steps and not looking at the cashier - who is now sitting at the counter with earphones and bobbing his head to a beat and is he humming?

yoongi walks down the chip aisle, deciding that he needs to have different flavors on hand when he gets tired of the cheese puffs.

over the top of the aisle, yoongi can see cashier boy stretching and fuck. his shoulders look good in that leather jacket too.

yoongi reaches the end of the aisle and is about to stroll into the next one, but almost trips on his shoelaces of his black converse. he kneels down and glances at the counter, seeing that the cashier is now standing. they make awkward eye contact and yoongi quickly goes back to tying his own shoelace, not before seeing a flash of black converses disappearing behind the counter.

when yoongi goes to pay for his items, cashier boy has taken off the leather jacket, leaving him in a simple white tee with a simple supreme logo. and now his incredibly toned biceps are out on display. wow. is it getting hot in here? yoongi sees the veins in cashier boy’s arms when they flex to hold the large container of cheese puffs. yoongi gulps.

it’s too hot - yoongi strips off his own leather jacket and slings it over an arm. eyes looking anywhere but the cashier, he taps his foot and waits for cashier boy to state the price and yoongi can pay and then he can leave.

except. cashier boy hasn’t said anything for a little while. yoongi chances a quick glance upwards. cashier boy is staring at - yoongi’s chest? fuck, did he wear his kumamon jammies out or something?

but like, if this boy has something against kumamon, yoongi has a serious bone to pick with him.

yoongi glances down at his own shirt. then back up at cashier boy. then back at his own shirt.

weird. yoongi’s wearing a supreme shirt. cashier boy’s wearing one too. cashier boy squints, like he’s suspicious of yoongi or something.

yoongi clears his throat, “uh - can i pay for my things?”

this seems to shake the cashier out of whatever stupor he’s in, “ah - sorry.”

yoongi pays for his things and goes to grab the bag the cashier is holding out for him to take. yoongi overshoots a little; okay, maybe he’s a little flustered and accidently knocks his hand against the cashier’s.

there’s a little clink as yoongi’s ring bumps against cashier boy’s.

okay. fuck. they’re wearing matching rings too?

they both face each other with similar looks of shock and confusion. before either of them have a chance to say anything, yoongi books it out of there real quick.

/

something weird is going on and jungkook doesn’t know what to do.

he’s just minding his own business, listening to offonoff’s new album while doing his math homework at the register to keep an eye on the store in case anyone does come in. it’s midnight but still.

then, jungkook sees movement in the corner of his eyes and realizes that someone has come in without him noticing.

it’s the silver-haired man again. and shit, he looks really good. he’s standing in front of the snack shelf, with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and he’s wearing this large leather jacket.

jungkook does not salivate.

but wait. jungkook looks down at himself. how is he also wearing a leather jacket?

it must be another fluke. jungkook hurriedly stands up and takes his jacket off, pacing around for a bit.

he looks over at the silver-haired man again and sees him tying his right shoelace.

jungkook looks down at his shoes.

his left shoelace is untied.

a mixture of mild horror and panic starts thrumming through his body, but he refuses to tie his shoelaces and resumes his nervous pacing.

he turns around and jumps slightly. the silver haired man is right in front of him, fidgeting with his hair.

jungkook goes to ring up his purchases, which are all comprised of various family size chip bags. he goes to ring up the last item, a jumbo container of cheese puffs, and pauses. the silver-haired man has taken off his leather jacket and. why. is he wearing a supreme shirt. like jungkook.

jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at that stupid supreme logo and the man’s prominent collarbones before he clears his throat and asks for jungkook to ring up the total.

right. jungkook hurriedly bags everything and thrusts them towards the man, hoping he’ll leave quickly.

the man accidentally knocks his hand against jungkook’s and this time jungkook does not hide his shock.

you've got to be fucking kidding. they have matching rings. it's like they're a couple or something.

what. is happening.

/

the next night after his shift at the local coffee shop, yoongi actively seeks out level convenience store, as well as its resident attractive cashier. he’s wearing this ostentatious, bright yellow, furry thing. it’s so. loud. and lowkey ugly. hence the reason why he’s out at night.

however, yoongi swears his sweater is bright enough that he’s probably glowing in the dark.

but, yoongi also needs to prove a point. whatever cosmic fuckery is going on, whatever deity is fucking with him, yoongi just wants to prove to himself that this is all bullshit. running into a cute stranger repeatedly is enough, and yoongi doesn’t need any other unexplainable shit happening.

/

jungkook is tapping his foot, a habit of his that surfaces only when he’s nervous or anxious. jungkook is definitely focusing on math homework and definitely not looking out for a certain silver-haired stranger.

he rubs his nose with the sleeve of his sweater and almost sneezes. geez. jungkook had asked taehyung to lend him his craziest article of clothing at the moment, seeing as taehyung’s fashion style is overall - crazy. so, taehyung tossed him the first thing he laid eyes on in his closet, and it was this gucci sweater. gucci my ass, jungkook thinks. this sweater is just a very good excuse to cosplay as big bird.

jungkook just wants to figure out what is going on. like, he meets some cute stranger and-

holy shit. he sees said stranger standing outside on the sidewalk.

okay, somebody up there must hate jungkook because - he looks down at himself just to make sure - both of them are once again, matching.

like, how does the stranger still look striking in such an ugly sweater?

jungkook can only stare as the stranger swiftly turns around and bolts down the street.

/

yoongi slams the door of his apartment closed, breathing heavily. he looks through the peephole to make sure no one had followed him. he’s not taking any chances.

that’s it. something is up and yoongi’s solution is to - hole himself up in his apartment.

wait, can he do that? oh yeah, it’s friday. and he doesn’t have any shifts until monday.  fantastic. he can devote himself wholeheartedly to his unfinished tracks over the weekend.

yoongi wakes up saturday afternoon, but allows himself the luxury of lounging around in bed for a few more hours. this effectively brings the start of his day well into saturday evening. he fishes around for some spare instant ramen packets, and begins working as soon as he gives himself some salty sustenance.

his weekend goes by like this: immersing himself with writing lyrics and producing elementary beats for a few straight hours and then taking short naps in between. he eats if he remembers. or if namjoon reminds him.

all in all, he does a good job of not thinking about the weird stuff that’s been going on, and especially about the soft-looking cashier boy.

except.

yoongi stumbles out of his bedroom, finally succumbing to his stomach’s urges, as well as namjoon’s rapid texts.

he fumbles around for a cup of ramen - his last one, he’ll have to refill - and goes to find a scissor to cut off the plastic wrap.

his fingers slip and he ends up cutting himself.

he sighs as he looks down at his bleeding finger. he dabs at it lightly to try to clear away the blood, but it just keeps oozing out. he grabs a tissue and presses on the fresh wound, waiting for it to clot, but the blood just keeps coming.

what the heck? he didn’t cut himself that hard.

ah, shit. he doesn’t have any bandaids.

he checks his phone. 2:55 am. is there a store open at this hour-

there might be one.

before yoongi thinks about it too hard, he wraps a clean tissue around his finger and books it out of his apartment. he’s not about to hold a tissue around his finger for the rest of the night to keep it from getting infected.

as he fast-walks to level convenience store, yoongi thinks about cashier boy again for the first time in awhile (a couple days.) maybe whatever matchy-matchy curse or spell or shit is over, since yoongi hadn’t seen or even thought about the boy. wow. an achievement.

cashier boy probably isn’t even there, seeing as it’s so late.

whatever, yoongi just needs to grab some bandaids and then he’s out.

he heads into the store, notices that the register is unattended, and goes to grab a box of bandaids. while he’s at it, he stops by the ramen aisle to refill his stock.

as he makes his way to the register, he sees someone now sitting behind the counter. yoongi stops in his tracks. it’s cashier boy. he looks as stunning as ever. and he’s fiddling with one of his fingers, which happens to be bandaged. he looks up and only then does yoongi continue walking towards him.

none of them say anything as cashier boy rings up his items, but he does raise his eyebrows slightly when he notices the blood-soaked tissue around yoongi’s finger.

after he pays, yoongi doesn’t leave right away. instead, he rips open the box of bandaids and slaps one around his finger.

“how did you hurt yourself?”

holy shit, even cashier boy’s voice is attractive - what the fuck - with a soft, lilting tone to it.

“uh, i cut myself trying to get some ramen.” god he sounds stupid.

“wait, really?” cashier boy’s doe eyes widen - yoongi sees his eyelashes, - “me too! i was doing inventory and had to refill some ramen for the shelves and yeah.” he gesticulates with his injured finger.

yoongi is silent for a moment. they even have matching wounds.

“this shit is real, isn't it?”

cashier boy tilts his head. “oh. you mean the weird clothes thing-”

the lights in the store flicker and then suddenly fade out completely.

yoongi panics for a second as his eyes adjust to the darkness, but that initial shock instantly goes away as soon as he sees cashier boy’s big eyes reflecting the street lights outside.

he finishes cashier boy’s sentence. “...yeah. the weird clothes-matching thing.”

“well, my best explanation is that the universe continually derives pleasure from fucking with me.” cashier boy pauses, “n-not that it's always a negative thing! i mean, this time wasn't so bad!” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “i-you - sorry! i didn't mean to make that sound like an insult to you.”

yoongi chuckles, “hey, it's fine. the universe likes fucking with me too.”

cashier boy shyly ducks his head.

yoongi looks around the store, now shrouded in complete darkness. “should we maybe find the fuse box or something..?”

cashier boy sits down on his stool. “nah, it’s fine. this happens quite often, actually. i don’t even know why you bother coming here when there are plenty of 7-eleven’s,” he sighs, “this store is pretty shitty and rundown.”

“i don’t know. i kinda like the warm, colorful vibe.” yoongi thinks, also, it’s because you’re here.  

“well, the longest the power’s been out was like, thirty minutes.” cashier boy unlocks his phone and begins scrolling through, “um - you’re free to leave..? i have everything under control.”

yoongi makes no move to leave and hops up to sit atop the counter. in doing so, he’s inevitably brought himself closer to cashier boy. when yoongi turns his head, he sees cashier boy up close, ensconced in moonlight, the contours of his face highlighted by shadows.

yoongi stares at cashier boy’s dark eyes, and at his eyelashes as they fan across his cheeks when he blinks slowly.

yoongi’s eyes are immediately drawn to his lips when he worries them between his teeth. if they begin leaning into each other’s orbit, none of them are the wiser.

suddenly, yoongi feels a sharp sting on his forearm. at the same time, cashier boy jerks away, hissing in pain.

something is etching itself into yoongi’s skin and he squeezes his arm to try to take away some of the pain.

his arm is still searing when the lights flicker back on.

“god, what the fuck was that-” yoongi looks down at his right arm, all red and puffy, and sees a tattoo.

it's a lock.

yoongi looks up in shock.

cashier boy has a similar look on his face. and on his left arm, is a tattoo of a key.

there's still specks of blood on cashier boy's fresh tattoo and yoongi grabs a nearby napkin and slowly dabs on it.

cashier boy flinches slightly, but yoongi places a hand on his upper arm to comfort him, to ground him. yoongi traces the boy’s tattoo lightly with his thumb and looks back at his own. a perfect match.

“i’m yoongi. min yoongi.”

cashier boy smiles softly. “jungkook.”

/

me [12:01 pm}

joon

quick question

so like

did anything weird happen

before ur tattoo appeared

dance monster [12:15 pm]

i mean

not that i can think of ??

hyung just cuz u and jungkook had some storybook soulmate romance doesn't mean smt like that happened to me

me [12:32 pm]

well what happened that day

dance monster [12:44 pm]

nothing really

i just had a study session with jin

me [12:49 pm]

‘study’

what exactly were u two studying

dance monster [12:50 pm]

hyung

need i remind u that jin is my metaphysics and epistemology tutor and wait wat were we studying ?

oh yea !!!

~metaphysics and epistemology~

me [1:00 pm]

you think he's cute, don't you

dance monster [1:05 pm]

im not answering that

me [1:06 pm]

im sensing a blush

dance monster [1:10 pm]

actually

now that i think about it

i came into that session late that day

as i was leaving my apartment i somehow

hit my knee on the doorframe

and fell

and dropped all my stuff

left a nasty bruise

also got a paper cut across my right palm as i was tryna pick up all the books in a hurry

me [1:16 pm]

you would

i fuckin bet smt like that happened to jin

hello

joon?

/

yoongi is rudely awakened by big bang’s ‘bang bang bang’ - why did he let his boyfriend pick his ringtone?

said boyfriend stirs in his sleep, burying his face deeper into yoongi’s shoulder and wrapping his arms tighter around yoongi’s waist. “mmph - hyung. make it stop. let’s nap more.”

yoongi turns his head and places a kiss atop jungkook’s forehead, “sorry baby. just let me take this real quick.”

he blindly grabs around for his cell phone and sees namjoon’s caller id lighting up.

“what.”

“hyung! what the fuck. what is happening.”

yoongi groans. “yes, what is happening. please enlighten me.”

“me and jin have matching bruises! even cuts and everything! i met up with him today and remember that cut i got on my palm? he had one too, and then we realized we have the same injuries!”

yoongi tries to process this information as fast as he can with a sleep-addled brain. “so, he’s a masochist?”

“no! god, no. he’s the one with the sun tattoo! remember how my sun tattoo appeared? well, he’s the one that had it, and he said that a moon tattoo appeared on him! like mine! hyung, we’re matching!”

“well, congratulations.” yoongi sounds grumpy, but he means it. “though i feel bad for jin. you’re a fucking klutz. don’t kill him before you ask him out officially.” he yawns. “i’m going back to sleep.”

with that, yoongi hangs up and turns back to wrap himself around jungkook.

“hyung, what was that about?” jungkook murmurs with his eyes still closed.

“nothing. just some weird soulmate shit.” he buries his nose in jungkook’s fragrant hair. “let’s go back to sleep.” ~

#bts #bts fic #suga #yoongi #jungkook #soulmate #soulmate!au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoonkook #sugakookie #mine

[qanitahmutsla]

The other night I had an enlightening conversation with Tiara (for the nth time, what would I do without them), one after sooo long of no deep conversations with anyone, and they mentioned writing as one of the most effective methods of self-healing. Of course, I've always known journaling is good, but there's always something holding me back from holding onto it as a way of coping.

I think part of the reason why I stopped writing, aside from not making time for it (this is a real concern as well), is that at one point I just started to overthink it.

I used to wonder who would read my content, if it's nice enough to read, if I make a lot of grammatical mistakes, if I complain too much about my life, if I fail to present myself in such a way that people would think of me as always capable of seeing the good things (hikmah) behind whatever happened in my life at that moment.

Even my Instagram posts, usually I would only post a story/phase when it's ended, when I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel and how I always want people to understand that there will always be that light at the end of every tunnel we're going through. It's not that I want people to think of me as wise, it's just that I want people to get something from my story and not just me complaining and spreading negative vibes, and so whenever I struggle in life I would just wait it out until I see the end of it and then I would share it with people. I guess it also has something to do with that message of "work in silence and let your success speak for you"?

They don't need to know how much I bleed and suffer, but then I forget that I do.

I need to see myself. I keep on focusing on my relationships with others and how I strive to bring them happiness but I keep abandoning the relationship with myself. I need to express myself to, well, myself. I need to have a space where I talk to myself about what I'm feeling as it is, unfiltered, as raw and ugly as it may be.

Never once I wrote about that.

I pushed through because I just had to pass those stages (life goes on duh), but I didn't really grow from it. Of course I gained and learned some things, but still I came out of the other side not knowing myself enough.

There's also the fact that I choose to write all of my contents in English because I think I could express myself better that way. I feel like if I do it in Bahasa it would come out as too cheesy or it just wouldn't come out at all. However, I also happen to be very conscious about my grammar control and I always have the motivation to set out a proper example so that people can see the correct way of writing in English. Obviously I'm not perfect, but it's literally the only thing that I want people to look up to me about, skill-wise, if they ever do (cause I feel like I have no other "worthy" skills hehe). I may or may not still have the pride of being an ex-journalism student as well lol. Now this wouldn't be a problem if I could just stop going over my writings again and again and thus hindering myself from just letting my thoughts flow out. I can't help it, not when I was taught and trained and "polished" to write correctly down to the last dot. From there I simply became reluctant to go over the cycle of me being a grammar perfectionist, so I wrote less and less and then nothing.

My friends, the real good friends that they are, reminded me that writing, especially as a journal of healing, is never supposed to be perfect or eloquent. It's supposed to be honest, maybe a little messy and a lot heart wrenching. I'm always down when it comes to listening to and "being there" for others but now that I really think about it, I've never really listen to and be there for myself.

(ok I get really sad at this point, writing and admitting this to myself hurt)

I've been told that I'm self-centered and too dominant (downside of being extroverts), that label stuck with me for years and I judge myself the same way in turn. In conversations I would talk too much about myself in a way that may be annoying to some people (especially if they are not genuinely interested or in the mood to listen to me). In retrospect, I begin to realize that (1) I talk mostly about my experiences and where I come from, not my real feelings (2) I may be unconsciously and unintentionally talking too much because I want to be heard and understood, and I am unheard because I don't listen to myself when there is no one around. I never stop and have a conversation with myself about what I feel and what I want, so it's just simultaneously piled up and pushed down, and when I'd then meet people I would "burst" and feel like I have to say something under the pretense of "connecting" when in fact I indeed just want to talk about myself to feel somehow validated (Sabi would say this is an enneagram type 2 thing, and sue me, I want to be loved).

Sabi also used to tell me how different we are when it comes to handling conflict, how I would face it head on (because I hate fighting with the people I love) and how she'd "sweep it under the rug". That term ironically resonates with me right now. I would be the first to try and fix it if something is not fine between me and others, but I would do just that, sweeping things under the rug, when something is not fine between me and myself.

With how outgoing and chatty I am who would've thought how hard it is for me to open up and be vulnerable, even with myself? Who would've thought how much it hurts to admit that things within myself are not as fine as I've been pretending they are? (I've only realized now that it's a pretense at all). How long have I been refusing to see how much I have to fix in me when nothing is wrong from the outside and "I should be more grateful"? (I have health and money and family what more could I possibly ask for??)

I am such a hypocrite.

I have this mindset I keep telling myself: "I'm not kind enough, I could and should be kinder, I need to be kinder". I just realize that all this time, in my head, it unconsciously only applies to others.

I'm not kind enough to others.

I could and should be kinder to others.

I need to be kinder to others.

I've always thought that mushy quotes of "stop being too hard on yourself" as menye-menye and a mere excuse to slack off and not work hard. Whenever I do or have things for myself, it's almost always accompanied with this instant-guilt and judgements to myself that I am selfish, that I need to be more considerate of others (what if one of my siblings suddenly need some sort of financial support and I spent the money on myself instead?)

Allahu, I've been mean and horrible. It never crossed my mind that I'm not kind enough to myself.

I may be regretting ever writing this when I read it again in the future (idk, for being weak, for spewing unnecessary things and then sweeping it under the rug yet again), but the me right now only wish for a start in healing.

I just want to be able to point out when it all began. Is it because I'm a firstborn? Is it because I lived in dorm-settings for years and years since I was twelve? Is it because of the ways my parents raised me? What are my triggers and how do I cope with them?

Let's find out bit by bit, hopefully :")

.

Mataram, July 26th 2021.

03.26 WITA.

.

PS: I bought myself a pair of earphone and panci listrik today lol. They've been in my cart for months and I just never had the guts to click on the checkout button. I hope future-me would be able to smile with no guilt upon reading this.

[creativitytoexplore]

Tony Ambrosio's Unsuccessful Life of Crime Is Finally Looking Up by Michael Drezin https://ift.tt/2xnTIVE It takes a lot to teach hapless petty thief Tony Ambrosio a lesson; by Michael Drezin.

Anthony Ambrosio, Tony to his friends, is not an honest man. No need to be. No one who ever made it big, made it big being honest. Honest or not, indications are Anthony Ambrosio will never make it big in crime because he doesn't have what it takes. He pulls mostly minor scams like selling weed that isn't weed, or bootlegged CDs where the cover doesn't match what's inside. And he gets caught like flu in winter. Tony's always getting caught. He does his time without complaint, 'cause that's the way real men do time. And then he starts the cycle all over again. No thought about what went wrong, or how to do it better. He does the same thing, in the same way, every time. He can't see that a life of crime is not for him because Anthony Ambrosio, Tony to his friends, is not an honest man. Not even with himself. And so when he told himself he had enough money for a fine meal at the Actor's Crib (insiders call it the Crib), a five star restaurant in the heart of NYC's theater district, it turned out he did. It's just that it wasn't on him. Upon the direction of management Alberto, the waiter, called the police. When they arrived Tony was arrested and until he was able to see a judge, he spent an afternoon, evening and the next morning in jail.

Anthony Ambrosio aka Tony Ambrosio aka Little Tony of Arthur Avenue, has been arrested like 100 times before. Pull a job. Get arrested. Tony was so regularly arrested he knew what to expect for dessert any day of the week whenever he was jailed. Tony started his life of crime at age 14. Beer, his first heist. Problem is, he got regularly caught doing it. His mentor suggested he bring his own shopping bag, but by then Tony was banned from most places that sold alcohol. Years later, when he graduated to burglaries, it took only one try to realize a yellow Dodge with a bumper sticker saying Proud parent of a Harvard graduate was a poor choice for a getaway car. It's not that Tony had bad ideas. It's more like he had no ideas. Like an impulse purchaser, Tony was an impulse desperado who never kept his impulse in check. Could be he was raised that way.

Tony's mom supported her and Tony by playing poker. Most often, she did so wearing a low cut leopard print blouse while chain smoking Evet's filtered cigarettes. She played in high stakes games held in the private room at Gino's (Fine Italian Cuisine) in the Little Italy section of the Bronx. It was mostly a men's game, but anyone who could afford the five thousand dollar minimum could play. Big fat cigars were banned ten years ago because they stunk up the restaurant, and except for Francesca these were no smoking games. She knew the dangers of smoking, everyone does, but she felt she had a realistic perspective on her habit. It was the same as her realistic perspective on life. Nothing bad would ever happen to her. If she thought about it at all, I'm sure she wasn't happy her son was sent to the principal's office nearly every day, but boys fight. What could she do about boys being boys? She didn't do much in the way of cooking, or cleaning, or any of the things formerly known as woman's work, but she always left Tony money for McDonald's, or pizza, or the like. Tony never lacked for anything that up to twenty-five dollars could buy. Besides poker, Francesca had a talent for attracting well-to-do men. It was just such a man who, in return for intimate companionship, staked her to her first major league poker game. That was maybe ten years ago, but even in early middle age, she was eye candy. She had a trim figure and an oval face framed by long, formerly dark, brown hair. If there was any flaw in her package, at least in my view, it was the unoriginality of a woman with tip over bazookas having brassy blond hair. The fact that she wore black framed glasses toned it down some, but not enough for men who liked a reserved looking woman. Still, anyone thinking Francesca was an uncaring mother would be wrong. She was teaching self-reliance to her young son, same as her parents taught her. In that effort, although she didn't know it, she was getting help from her boyfriend Joey Sanitation. Joey was in private sanitation, that is, he collected business refuse while the city collected residential garbage. The industry was heavily regulated in New York to rid it of the mobsters who once dominated the field and who, through front men, still do. Joey was too advanced in his legitimate career to break the law the way street thugs do, but not too old to tell stories of his own, earlier days, when a street thug was exactly what he was. Tales of crimes and tales of survival in prison, make for interesting listening even if you are not an impressionable 14-year-old. (If incarcerated, find a guard to bribe. There will be one. From special meals to skipping out on your work detail, they make life easier.) Joey was someone Tony could look up to, a substitute for the father who left too long ago to be remembered. With Joey Sanitation as inspiration, Tony lived his life the way any 14-year-old on his own would. He did whatever seemed like a good idea at the time.

First time Tony was arrested for shoplifting, his first time out, a security guard reached into a jacket pocket and found items not paid for inside. When asked how they got there, he had a simple defense. "I borrowed the coat," he said. And he's the kind who needs someone to blame, and so when he got arrested for not paying at the Crib he blamed his waiter for believing he had money to pay for dinner at a place as expensive as that place is. The thing is, when he wants to, Tony can make a decent enough living dumpster-diving for information to sell to identity thieves. But making money, having it on you, and spending it are three different things. No talent or special skill is required to buy things with money. A child can do it. The thrill for Tony, the excitement, is in getting over, in getting something for nothing. If you don't understand that, you're either too square to explain it to, or not being honest with yourself. Still, some might argue, given that Tony did order and eat, no gun to his head, his waiter could reasonably assume he would pay when the time came. The way Tony sees it, that's a mistake. Not his mistake. It's a mistake in the way restaurants are run. Tony came to this insight by way of life experience, which taught him that placing trust in people almost never works out well. He thinks restaurants should be run like stores. There they make you pay before you get the merchandise. They do that for a reason. Clearly, it's not Tony's fault the Crib isn't run that way. And using that logic, that impeccable logic, Tony was certain at the conclusion of the Crib's case against him, he would be a free man. "It's not like he asked if I could pay, Your Honor. Is he not, thus, as guilty as I?" But the judge did not consider the guilty waiter theory much of an excuse, and he sentenced Tony to thirty days of dishwashing at the cafe. Alberto, as witness for the prosecution, hearing of Tony's defense, was deeply offended that a man of honor, such as he, would be accused of being a negligent waiter. But what could he do? He was not long in this world before he realized dishonest people abound. Tony fulfilled the obligations of his sentence with admirable diligence. For 30 days he arrived on time, kept to himself, scrubbed dishes for eight hours and then left. At the end of his sentence, Tony told himself he had enough money for a fine meal at the Crib, and he ordered one. He ordered lobster prepared in clam sauce. No wine to go with it. Coffee was fine. When he was through and unable to pay, Alberto was, once again, directed to call the police. When they came, Tony was arrested and once again blamed Alberto, witness for the prosecution. And once again Alberto was offended at Tony's attempt made to sully his good name, but what could he do? Waiters do not get to pick their customers. Alberto was satisfied that he lived his life doing unto others...

It was high noon when Tony was released from the Bronx House of Detention for Men. Like checkout in a hotel, his time inside was up, his probation sentence to be served. As the gate clanked closed behind him, after walking through the cement yard and past the barbed wire fencing, he looked up at the cloudless sky and then down the block where children, five or six in all, ran under water spraying from a capped fire hydrant. A time and temperature sign brought to the community by Third Avenue Bank read 89 degrees. A Mr. Refreshment ice cream truck was approaching, its bell ringing the same few sounds over and over, and all looked right with the world except that not ten feet away a purse snatcher was plying his trade on the oldest-looking, shortest (under four feet), whitest- haired, most wrinkled, bony fingered, four-eyed woman in oversized pink-lensed sunglasses Tony had ever seen. Her silver-tone cane fell to her right side as she struggled with her assailant to hold on to her purse, and what Tony guessed were the proceeds from a cashed Social Security check inside. Tony suspected she was fighting, as best she could, to hold on to her food and medicine money and that part of her rent not paid by the government. He and Tony were in the same line of work, but Tony had standards. Stealing from the elderly was permissible, but doing so violently was out of the question. That's just wrong, was the way Tony saw it. Problem was, Tony wasn't much of a fighter. So he walked on by, called 911 from a safe distance, and hung up satisfied he made the world a better place for being in it. Before he left, he heard a police siren in the distance. Tony hopped the turnstile and took the number 4 train to Times Square. In the city he walked past the places where the peep shows used to be before Times Square was ruined by becoming a family-friendly destination. He stopped to remember the girls he saw- on film for 25 cents a peep. Where are they now, he wondered. A short time later, after waking past some of Broadway's oldest and most famous theaters, he was at the Crib.

As required by his sentence, for 30 days Tony arrived at the Crib on time, kept to himself, scrubbed dishes for eight hours and then left for the day. When his sentence was up, Tony was very hungry and so he ordered lobster, stuffed with shrimp and scallops and accompanied by a fine Chardonnay. He had baked clams to start. He skipped the coffee. Being pleasantly looped, he saw no need for coffee to kill his buzz. But by now Tony had learned his lesson. Take care of others (at least those that can help, or hurt). This time Tony left a generous tip that he removed from a nearby table just as Alberto was delivering the cheesecake. He slipped it into Alberto's outstretched hand. In brotherhood with a fellow employee, of sorts, Alberto forgot to leave a check. Well, better late than never. Twenty-two years after beginning life, Tony learned something new. Who knows. Could be he'll learn all kinds of lessons. Like plan an escape route. Wear gloves. Bring your mom's DNA to the job. The friends of Anthony Ambrosio, the ones who call him Tony, hope, however unrealistically, that someday he will succeed, that he will be at the top of his game and that the FBI will consider him to be a most wanted man, his face on posters, a major player in the minor leagues of crime.

#FICTION on the WEB short stories

[pretzel-lift]

A Lifetime of Lifting

I wanted to publish this post to just tell my story; I’m seemingly at least a decade older than many lifters in the community and wanted to share where I’ve been, how I’ve gotten there, and what’s changed.

I’m going to start off by saying that this is gonna be long and probably boring, but if you’re into autobiographies then please stick with me lol. ---------

The first time I ever remember taking anything was when I was eight years old. I was playing at a friend’s house and she had an orange plastic toy compass that I remember thinking, “I want that.” I waited for her to leave the room and I stuck it in my pocket. I was so nervous, I remember my heart racing and making up an excuse that I needed to go home. I got on my bike and pedaled away from her house. I was never questioned about the whereabouts of the compass.

I don’t remember what I felt - I just know that “taking things” became a habit for me, always from school. Paperback books were a favorite; I could easily take them home from the classroom to read and just never return them. In fifth grade, I spied a brand-new multi-pack of rainbow colored overhead projector markers. A dozen beautiful colors called to me to steal them. Again, I waited for the opportunity for the classroom to be empty, and quickly zipped the package into my backpack.

A few days later, the teacher that I loved and never wanted to disappoint asked us to search the classroom for the package of markers. My heart began to pound again, but I knew the markers were safe at home, so I pretended to look for them along with everyone else. The search expanded to our bookbags and desks. Our teacher was beside herself as to where the markers could be. I never stepped forward and said that I did it, and I never returned them either.

This was the mid-90s, and I was ten years old. I knew nothing of security cameras at the stores, I don’t think it even dawned on me that stores would have such a thing to catch lifters. This was the first time you could say I was caught. One night, my mother and I went out to Big Lots, and I mentioned to her that there was a coffee mug I wanted a couple of aisles over, and it was $1.00. For whatever reason, my mom deemed that it was too expensive, and we kept shopping. I went back to “look” at the mugs again, and succeeded in peeling the sticker off a .39 mug and pasting it over the $1.00 sticker on the mug I wanted. I thought I was a genius and showed my mom that I’d found a cheaper mug. We went to check out and all was good until just before the cashier totaled the merchandise. To my mother’s embarrassment and my prepubescent chagrin, the manager came up and told my mother that I had been caught changing the price tag on the mug. My mother was fuming, and I denied it at first, but they had me caught and gave me a lengthy scare about shoplifting and how I was lucky to not be arrested. Ha. 

When high school hit, lifting was a weekly thing for me. I had saved enough money from working for the down payment on a car, and was free to lift any time I wanted now. Two big-box retailers had made their way to our town a few years earlier, and suddenly, so much was mine - my entire makeup collection, novelty items, pens and notebooks, clothes, shoes. I concealed everything on-person initially, but I became braver and started using my purse. My boyfriend at the time stared in awe as I dumped dozens and dozens of packages of lifted Magic and YuGiOh cards onto his bed, yanked from the displays. Me1jer was a great store to lift condoms, lube, and cigarettes from - this was about 2001 and they still had old self-serve cigarette displays at the beginning of their checkout lines. I was a minor, so this was my go-to for cigarettes, stuffed away in my black canvas crossbody purse studded with (lifted) pins. This era of my life also saw the advent of me stealing my mom’s medicines to sell and even taking her wedding set to a pawn shop. 

The year after graduation, I met my only lifting buddy to this date, Cat*. Cat worked at a mom-and-pop restaurant in a nearby town and pocketed at least a hundred a night from the register, or just taking the money the customers paid her with and only pretended to cash them out. I didn’t condone this personally, but it delighted me that I could exploit Cat for my personal gain, and soon Cat and I went on shopping sprees and it felt good to “buy” things, in our own way. 

The year after that, I met my oldest child’s dad, and things were getting tougher. I was 20 years old and had been living on my own for two years at this point, and had an apartment full of friends with no jobs who were staying with me because they had “no place to go.” I was struggling to pay the bills (minimum wage at this time in my state was still $5.15 an hour), and had no money left over. I was working at a major retailer as a cashier, when one afternoon a customer knelt down in front of  my register and came back up with a credit card. “Here, someone dropped this,” they said, and my head began swimming with the possibilities. “Thank you, I’ll take it to the office,” I told the customer, but the card was never turned in.

I realized that I had a very short window in which to act, so after work, I went on a shopping spree, packed my fridge and cabinets, and filled my gas tank. I signed an alias on the slips and promptly destroyed the credit card after the spree, which lasted no more than 24 hours. At the time, I assumed I wouldn’t be caught, that no cameras could denote who I really was, that nobody would be able to catch my license plate number. Very fortunately, I was not caught, but I had breached into new and very dangerous territory.

During that summer, I was very enamored with my (completely lazy and piece of shit) boyfriend, and would do anything to fund his every whims. Dropped credit cards showed up more often at my register, and I began treading into the waters of ORC, gift card fraud, and even check fraud. Hundreds of dollars were becoming mine with the ease of a few keypunches on the registers. I knew that I could get in huge trouble for all of these things, but I told myself that I was smart, I was ahead of the game. To this point, I had stolen money from every job I had worked at, and been fired from a few for doing such. But even with everything I was doing to stay ahead, the money was never enough - and I found myself pregnant that fall.

Shortly after becoming pregnant was the first time I was really caught, and it was so careless and embarrassing that it’s almost funny. My now-ex, his friend, and I strolled into one of the big-boxers with a freshly nabbed stolen credit card. Right off the bat, even for the given store, we looked sus as fuck - screwing around, dressed like trash, being loud. We stopped at the accessories department first and I foolishly took a pair of earrings off of a pack and put them in my ears. We laughed and joked through the store for at least two hours as we filled up our cart with the usual - food mainly, but other things like DVDs and candles and crap. We checked out at the register and I signed my alias on the credit card pad and we were on our way out the door with our several-hundreds-dollars haul. Just before the doors, we were stopped by two LP, they were talking so fast and shoving something in my face that it took me a minute to realize what was going on. One LP was holding up the placard that held earrings, one pair missing. The other was telling me I could not leave until I came with them and let them know what I did with the earrings. I became angry because I was caught, but I played it off like I was trying them on (what even?) and “forgot” I had them. The LP allowed me to go back through the line and purchase the whole package - which I did so with the stolen card I had. Irony. We were let go on the premise that we wouldn’t come back for six months. That didn’t last.

That scare set me back from lifting when I needed it the most. I was now pregnant, jobless, and even homeless - my boyfriend and I were staying from couch to couch with friends where we could. We had burnt bridges everywhere. My boyfriend refused to get a job and for some reason, I believe I deserved to be with someone like this. I scammed up six months of unemployment benefits, which was the best I could do in my condition, and we lived on $115 a week until the baby was born (rent was $100 a week).

A couple of months after our daughter was born, I was hired by another big-box retailer and found myself working at the customer service desk. I was mainly alone on my shifts after I had learned the ropes, and it got a little boring back there. I willed myself not to lift, even though I was needing it more than ever - even with a job and food stamps, I could barely pay bills, and still didn’t have a car. I discovered a gem while cleaning out the drawers in customer service one day - a drawer with lost IDs and gift cards in them. I surreptitiously pocketed the gift cards, left the IDs and whatever else was in there - junk jewelry, keychains. I went home that night and checked the balance on the gift cards, One of them had $100 on it. That week, at least, I could breathe easy. 

I was becoming careless, though. The gift card I found with $100 on it was for the store I worked at, and I was nervous as all hell to shop for what I needed, so I went to a location out of town to spend it on body wash and stuff I needed for home. During my employment here, I gathered the skills I could to process fraudulent returns. All of the returned merchandise was kept behind the desk and sorted in to various carts to go back to stock at the end of the night. I was routinely (like every shift) beginning to take items that were brought to the service desk and process fraudulent returns on them to pocket the money or gift cards. It worked like this: a customer would do a return and I would give them the money. That’s fine, right? But I’d later take the same receipt copy I had and “return” some other things from the receipt, or just gather receipts from the parking lot and “return” the items. LP was gone after a certain hour (their office was right next to my desk). How would anyone know unless they were REALLY watching the cameras, and seeing that I was doing fake returns, haha right?

Haha indeed. One night, I was told to go on break, and someone came to relieve me of the desk. I knew that I had $60 in my sock from a fraudulent return I’d done way too early in the shift, and it wasn’t time for break. My stomach dropped and my mouth got hot and I knew I was caught even though everyone acted normal. I walked toward the break room, eager to sneak into the restroom and hide the money a little better, but I was stopped on the way and taken to the LP office. They had called a police officer and everything. They accused me of taking a little more than $1000 at this point, they’d been “watching” me. It never dawned on me that LP would build a case against me and then bust me later. I had assumed that the minute they catch you stealing, your jig was up, and they didn’t let it go further. I was wrong. I handed over the money they knew I had in my sock and tried to cry my way out of it.

What LP had caught me with paled in comparison to what I had actually made off with - of course, I didn’t let them know that. I complied. I cried. I told them I was scared and had nothing and just couldn’t make ends meet. Spoiler alert, they didn’t believe me, or care. LP left the room after awhile and left me in there with the police officer. By the grace of god knows what, and very graciously, the police officer told me that he was not going to arrest me, but that this was extremely serious and could land me in prison. The retailed had accused me of over a grand - but instead of pressing charges or showing camera footage or anything “proving” what I’d done, I was made to sign a couple of papers. One was terminating my employment, and another was sort-of a promissory note of payback. I was banned from this retailer for a number of months, ordered to pay back what they accused me of taking, and a few other stipulations. I left that night crying and calling my mom for a ride - again, I was 21 and alone with no job or car, only this time I had an infant to care for with very little help from anyone. I had nothing to my name, not even a bed or a couch in my disgusting apartment. I managed to scam up 10 weeks of unemployment benefits again, but that was the last.

This incident was over 11 years ago. I was shook to the core and vowed to never lift again. Eight years passed and I found a very long and hard way to “better,” involving leaving my ex (he still to this day does nothing for his child), going on to marry someone else, gaining financial stability and independence, and not lifting a single cent in that time.

But a few years ago, I felt like I was going crazy. I was severely depressed and manic. I have long since been diagnosed with OCD and kleptomania, but I abated myself and the urges. I joined tumblr in 2013 on my main. In 2014, I got curious about lifting again - and searched the tags for shoplifting hauls or something like that. Holy shit, what a world I’d stumbled on. See, up until I got popped at work and terminated, I had no internet to turn to, no community, no reddit, no tumblr, and I never even searched up forum boards on my illegal pastime. I learned it all on my own, every victory, every misstep, every twist and turn - but here, oh here on liftblr...holy. fucking. shit. These people knew EVERYTHING. They knew how to take hard security tags off (something I had never considered fucking with), they knew entire store layouts and how to lift and most importantly, how to stay safe. Fuck. Here came the urges again - and I was absolutely certain that if I studied, I could do this again.

Well, it’s 2017, and here I am. Two thirds of my life as a lifter. I am now in my early 30s, I am a wife and a mother, I work a great job. I am not financially insecure. During the eight years I was inactive, I established a rapport with many of the store staff in the town I live in, and have been taught what to watch out for and what to avoid. I feel like this is a pertinent step in not being caught, and I often lift along with my regular shopping. I am eternally grateful for finding this community because without it, I’d be lost. I’m grateful for every (good) tip and love admiring people’s hauls. I don’t have a ton of tips, but I do want to share what I do.

- The majority of my method is simply walking out of the store with items, or leaving them in my cart (under a purse or bag). I do this a bit brazenly and I do not recommend it. But the idea behind lifting, no matter WHY you do it, is to beat LP at their game. Your objective is to outsmart them. I choose this method because at my age, the repercussions are greater, and because the ONLY thing that will get you caught is INTENT. If it never looks like you intended to lift, you will get out of this every time, I promise. I’m not saying to walk out with mounds of clothing draped over your arm - that’s simply un-doable. But I am most comfortable walking out with a couple of things here or there, especially in crowded stores, because the intent isn’t clear - did I mean to walk out with those items, or didn’t I? I do conceal when I need to - when I go on a “bigger” haul and use my magnet and such. But I’m mainly still not totally comfortable with it. 

- I don’t fuck with K0hl’s, M@cy’s/C@rsons, and generally don’t fuck with W@lmart. They’re way, way too good in my town, and have been known to hire actual uniformed police officers to assist LP in watching for theft.

- Do your research and check Facebook for a local police scanner page for your area. This has helped me many times when they post theft calls and to which store (for more info on this please message me). Google lifting in your area, especially store-specific. 

- Always pay in cash. Do not leave a paper trail of any type, and the best advice I can give is to be natural. It is a HUGE risk to drive to a store and park and lift and hope they don’t get your plate number...but it’s also sus to be walking from a long way away, and can be unreliable to be dropped off.

- You will be suspected if you don’t act the part. When people ask you about your thoughts on lifting, or mention lifting to you in conversation, you must join their opinion and pretend that lifters are scum trash who deserve to fry in prison. Literally, that is what all of my coworkers think. As much as it pains me and I want to argue with them, you just HAVE to agree.

- By now, you all know not to leave packages behind, and not walk around the store with your items, obviously searching for a blind spot. Pro tip: conceal as you move, if you’ve got to conceal on-floor. Utilize your phone and wallet to hide items to easily into your bag or jacket. Conceal on-person as much as you can. I submitted the tip about using a magnetic back brace/knee brace to lift with/make your magnets non-sus. Use this tip. 

- Give yourself a limit per store, especially when beginning. You have a craft to hone, and you likely aren’t going to haul off with a grand in merch the first time. Start small and keep practicing this item limit. Begin with one item per store so you don’t get overwhelmed. Work on this and master it then move up to two or three, mastering each level confidently. Always leave your items behind if you suspect you’re being watched. Greed will kill you if you have not mastered the basics.

- If caught, I personally do not recommending running. I know that some have, but to me, the risk of a resisting arrest charge and possible injury are not worth it. I have no parents to answer to and nobody to punish me except the police, so I will stick with this.

- Most of us are pretty curious about lifting in our teens, even if only to just see if we can do it. This is illegal and I’m telling you right now that if you can’t or are not comfortable lying, this activity is not for you. Because eventually, you will be lying a lot to people about items and activities. Some people are simply not good lifters and this should be learned sooner rather than later (for the sake of your permanent record).

- Some have been caught/beeped a lot, some have never. Some is luck, most is skill, but the main thing you must remember is that if truly caught, you risk jail time, fines, and humiliation. You risk losing a chance at gainful employment if you catch a felony. Your name and maybe even photo, along with your charge, will be posted in your local newspaper and everyone will know and they won’t trust you anymore. Research your state laws but remember that if you are caught, it is VERY hard to use what you remember on Google to get out of an arrest. If you’re facing a felony, hire a lawyer and they will do the talking for you.

- Graciously, I have still to this day never been convicted, not even of the ORC activities, fraud/forgery, or identity theft. I do not know how or why I was released that night from the officer when it was pretty obvious that I was guilty. I hope to maintain a clean record permanently.

[prongsno]

This is not the end;

She’s never going to see him again. And he was perfect.  

Lily meets the love of her life in Tesco Extra at 10pm.  

read on ao3, part II

Happy birthday to the cutie-pie ria @gxldentrio

The first time Lily Evans meets him is at the self-checkout service at Tesco Extra. He’s got these tall, gangly legs that look like they could go on forever and (from what she can tell from the back of him anyways) an unruly bed of jet black hair.

And, if first impressions were anything to go by then he was also an absolute fool. Clumsy and, to be honest, bordering on idiotic.

He’s furiously trying to scan a litre bottle of full fat whole milk and he makes it seem like it’s the hardest and most gruelling task one can take. His back is tense and he’s tapping his left foot against the tiles. She doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there already, but from the way he’s acting she can tell it’s been longer than he intended.

The store is silent apart from his incessant mumbling (she hears a lot of ‘bugger’s and ‘bloody’s amidst the groans of frustration and the sassy voice of the checkout machine). After his fifth try she’s ready to intervene right then and there. There's a particular art to scanning; you have to be slow, patient. In short, the complete opposite of what that guy is trying to do.

The machine lets out a beep, successfully scanning the milk. Finally. She lets out a sigh of relief along with the guy.

“Unexpected item in bagging area,”

“I just scanned that you absolute -”

“Remove item before continuing.”

He grasps hold of the milk in a fit of anger and plonks it back down without delay. That seems to do it.

The last thing he picks up is a package of pasta from the deli counter, presumably his dinner Lily thinks with pity.

He’s either one of the unluckiest people she has ever met or he just simply cannot cope when it comes to the self-checkout service. Once again she finds herself fascinated and in complete awe by this strange boy and his seemingly never-ending supply of energy, because the next thing she knows his pasta has dropped out of his hands and it’s gone everywhere on the floor.

There’s an aggravated groan of frustration, followed by his large hands going up to his head.

It looks like he’s about to strangle himself for a second, his hands shoot up to his face and he pulls at his hair for a second before they fall limply at his sides. He stares at the splatter of pasta and lets out a deep breath of aggravation.

It’s now all too much for Lily. Instantly she covers her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the laughter that’s threatening to bubble up her throat. Although this is one of the most hilarious things she’s witnessed, she thinks it’d be rude to laugh at his misfortune like that.

The poor sod.

He looks so lost and utterly helpless and she debates with herself about whether it would it be weird to go forward and help him? 

She’s so tempted because watching him is almost unbearable. It’s late, the store is nearly empty, and no one deserves to get covered in pasta at ten o’clock in the evening. But then again, since it’s late she’s not really up for any social interaction; all she wants to do is buy her food, go home, go on Netflix and procrastinate all her uni work.

She doesn’t even say anything as she moves forward; she just kneels down next to him and joins in scooping up the pasta with her hands next to him.

And it’s then that she finally gets to see his face. A breath catches in her throat as their eyes meet. Hazel upon bright green, it’s as if life stops for a second (no matter how cliché she thinks it sounds).

His cheeks are red and flustered now that he knows he’s had an audience for god knows how long of him making a fool of himself. If anything the blush makes him look even more attractive and for a second she looks completely gormless because she can’t stop staring at that gorgeous face.

He looks shocked, like a deer caught in the headlights, but his eyes turn back to the floor in a flash. His cheeks are tinged pink as he continues to pick up the pasta with shaky fingers.

“Thanks for that,” He says once they’ve finished. He throws her a sheepish kind of grin that she can’t help but blush to in response. She would have hardly called it helping, but gives him instant brownie points for being polite.

She intends to whisper back a quick ‘no problem’, but her throat closes up, dry, and she ends up croaking out the words instead. Her hopes of being cool and suave are out of the window. She’s wearing old leggings and worn out trainers for goodness sake.

The boy says nothing. Instead he just stares at the mess of tomato sauce on the floor for a second before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a packet of superman pocket tissues.

Lily doesn’t know what to think. 

This guy just pulled out a packet of superman tissues like they were his magic wand. He doesn’t even seem embarrassed by the fact he had them in his pockets, he just kneels to the floor again and starts wiping like a mad-man.

This is such a bizarre and unusual experience for her, and yet part of her feels like it’s completely normal. Watching this guy make a fool out himself and then clean up his mess with superman tissues.

His tongue lolls out the side of his mouth in concentration as he wipes and he doesn’t stop until it’s as clean as he can get it. He ends up using the whole packet before he gives the floor a satisfying nod. 

She doesn’t realise he’s talking to her until he taps her shoulder with a new packet of tissues. Her shoulders flinch, Henry Cavill’s face is pressed against her and she doesn’t know how she feels about that.

“Sorry, what?” Heart hammering against her chest, she tries to breathe as slowly and as calmly as possible.

For some reason this guy is making her feel like she’s got butterflies fluttering around the pit of her stomach and she doesn’t know what to make of that. Or about anything for the time being.

He grins, and repeats his question. “Do you want a tissue?”

The answer is pretty obvious; her hands are covered in the red sauce but she finds it commendable that he felt the need to ask her. She accepts one, refusing to let her shaky hands get the better of her. Deep breaths.

“Sorry about your pasta, are you going to get another?”

They’re still crouched next to each other on the floor, their heads almost touching. The boy clears his throat and moves to get up, stretching all the while. His knees click as he stands and Lily scrambles up to follow his lead.

“Nah,” He shakes his head. “I think it’s best if I do nothing, before I end up doing something else stupid.” She’s relieved to hear humour in his voice..

He says nothing as he places a tenner into the machine and waits for his change.

Honestly, she doesn’t know why she’s still standing there next to him. She feels drawn to him, like a magnetic pull is between them.The space between them is tingling so much that the hair on the back of her neck stands up on edge. 

She can’t help but just stare and stare and stare at him. Her tongue clicks against her lips, watching his long fingers fiddle as he places his wallet back into his pocket.

She should say something...  

Something witty so this meeting can be something like in the books or movies. A meet-cute. 

He’ll realise that she’s gorgeous and amazing and that life is complete now that he’s found her. He can whisper sweet nothings in her ear as they walk out of the store never looking back-

Her daydream is interrupted by the checkout machine. It gives out a loud and dangerous whirring noise before countless amounts of coins sputter out and the two of them stare at the machine in horror. 

In true self-check-out fashion The Handsome Boy gets the majority of his change in 20ps but at this rate it looks like he doesn’t even care anymore, he glares at the machine and it's like the two of them are having some sort of stand off. When the machine is finally finished he grabs all of his change in one swift movement, hurriedly catching a 2p coin that manages to escape from his grasp before it decides to roll away under the counter, never to be seen again.

He’s not even bothered; he pours the coins into his pocket which is now so stuffy and bulky that she’s tempted to offer to carry some. But that would be weird… and she realises she’s been staring at his crotch area for longer than she had intended. She snaps her head forward and meets The Handsome Boy’s eyes.

He’s smirking at her and she tries her hardest not to blush. Her heart shivers, pounding against her chest as she watches him pick up his bag of shopping. The handles stretch against the weight and Lily holds her breath- waiting for it to snap and for his shopping to crash all over the floor.

Luckily, it doesn’t.

“Well,” The Handsome Boy lets out a deep breath, as if he had been expecting the same thing to happen,  and gives her a firm nod. “You really helped me out there, so thanks. Hopefully my night is changing for good now.”

When he smiles his eyes shine like constellations and his face seems to brighten up the dimly lit store.

Sweaty hands. Dry mouth. She must look like an idiot as he waits to see if she’ll say something.

“Cool, see ya.” She finally manages to choke out, all the while wanting to slap her face onto the counter. What kind of a response is that?

The Handsome Boy’s smile falters a little, hands tightening against his bag. His face is free from any emotion and Lily instantly regrets the words that slipped out of her lips in panic.

Then he’s turning around and she can’t help but breathe in a gasp, shocked at how much it hurts when it feels like there’s no air left in her tight, collapsible lungs.

Why can’t she say something? Her body is shaking, her fingers itching to just reach out and pull at his sleeve and bring him back to her.

She doesn’t even know his name. And she realises with a shock that he doesn’t know hers, either. She’ll forever be just that girl at the grocery store that helped to pick up his dirty pasta… she’ll fade away into his memory until one day he won’t even remember the moment that they shared together at all.

And then, just like that, he’s gone. The last bit of his body is hidden behind the aisles and shelves of the store and Lily has never hated herself more.

Someone coughs behind her. There’s a grumpy looking woman waiting rather impatiently with a basket full of food behind her and suddenly Lily remembers where she is and what she was doing here in the first place.

She scans her items with ease and no problems (honestly, how the heck did He make it look so difficult?!), trying not to think about the distinct smell of tomato pasta coming out of the bin nearby. Then she’s following in his footsteps, it’s as if he’s still next to her.

She can hear the thunderous downpour before she’s even left the building and quickly thanks God that she remembered to bring her umbrella with her (you can never trust the weather forecast these days).

It’s chucking it down outside, the rain hitting the pavement so heavily that puddles are already forming and the cars that are whooshing past spray the sidewalks even more. It’s as if the skies are tormenting her, the pathetic fallacy making her feel even more pathetic than she already feels. With a scowl her brolly goes up and she releases a deep breath before stepping out into the rain.

The sound is so harsh, like bricks falling from a great height and flattening anything in its path. She lets out a surprised shock as her feet tread into a puddle and her socks and shoes become an instant soggy wet mass against her feet.

She stops.

Either her mind is playing a dirty, rotten trick on her or... the guy that had just suddenly turned her world around on its axis is standing underneath the store roof, frowning up towards the sky with his arms folded against his chest.

Dirty and soggy feet are not going to stop her getting her second chance and before she has time to think against it hurries towards him, a smile growing wider and wider on her lips. The giddy feeling in her gut is back and it’s like she’s walking on clouds to get to him.

As if he sensed her presence (or just heard her, but she prefers the former) he glances up in her direction and there it is again: his bright smile that just dazzles her beyond words.

“This has been one of the worst days ever!” He shouts over the intense downpour, his voice sounding so angelic and harmonic that it gives her goosebumps.

She can’t hear him properly against the harsh sound the rain makes against her umbrella, so she has to move forward towards him, not that she’s complaining.

“Huh?” Once again her words fail her, she’s never had a problem with eloquence before. Her throat just instantly dries up and she can’t help it. 

She dives under the small ledge that’s covering him, their shoulders inches apart. He has a rain droplet running down his cheek and Lily gathers all of her inner strength to refrain herself from wiping it away with her fingers.

“I’m going to wait until the rain stops,” The Handsome Boy says, glaring at the sky again. Judging from the large dark grey clouds that cover the sky like a blanket it’s something that won’t happen any time soon.

“Because I just realised I forgot my umbrella and there’s no way I’m going to go out in that.” He shakes his head, another droplet falls on his face but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He’s got this beautiful smile etched onto his lips, his eyes glowing as he mutters out, “Knowing me I’d probably fall on my arse into a puddle.”

Lily swears, it’s at this moment that she is one hundred percent certain that he has just stolen her heart. 

The poor guy is drenched and yet it looks like he just walked out of a magazine shoot, clad in perfection but like he’s had a sexy dance in a waterfall or something. And when he lets out a little shiver and wraps his hands tighter against his chest she has already made up her mind.

“You can come under my umbrella,” She says as smoothly as she can, trying her very hardest not to copy Rihanna and go ‘ella, ella, ella’.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that right?” He flashes her a grin and she feels light and giddy on her feet. His feet shuffle, avoiding the puddle and he ducks under her arm so he’s under her umbrella. 

She catches a whiff of fresh lemons and lavender before she has to hold her breath. 

Did he look like this before? Tousled black and wavy hair with hazel eyes as bright as a thousand star constellations… and a smile so soft she feels like he could break at any second.

He’s so much taller than her; he stares down as she stares up and he has to bend his legs slightly so he’s covered by the rain.

“Would you mind if I…” 

His voice trails off and he puts out his hand, asking silently if he can be the umbrella holder. 

She hands it to him in an instant, words failing her anyways so there’s no point in even trying to speak, and gulps as their hands brush. His fingers are cold like ice but they feel… right? Soft and delicate, like she could hold them forever and never get bored of entwining hers against his.

“I’m James, by the way.”

James.

Finally. Finally. 

She knows his name. It echoes inside her head and she can’t help but smile; the name fits him perfectly. Although ‘Handsome Boy’ does have a nice ring to it.

“I’m Lily,”

She insists that she walks him home and is relieved when they find out they live in the same student residence halls. It’s about a ten minute walk back.

What would have been a walk of silence and full of dull boredom becomes a walk full of laughter and joy. 

James swears he’s not usually as clumsy as he was today, but does recall an incident where he twisted his left ankle after going down some stairs, thinking there was an extra step.

“My friend, Sirius, thought it was blinking hilarious. He wouldn’t let me live it down for the whole week… until he was swinging a computer chair in the library and it toppled over and he fell arse first on the floor.” James laughs, shaking his head at the memory.

The ten minutes have gone in a flash and they’re both standing by the entrance of the student village. James directs her to his halls, building E, floor 4, and she makes a little mental note of it (she’ll have to make a friend in the building and hopefully find him again and call it fate).

“You have definitely been like a knight in shining armour tonight, Lily.” Her name on his lips causes her heart to swell and she smiles.

Her chest still feels tight, her voice giddy and shaky still. How does he have this kind of effect on her?

“The pleasure was all mine,” She says, hopefully not too eagerly. “I had fun.”

“Me too,” He puts a hand in his pocket and pulls out his key, handing her back the umbrella. “Maybe we’ll see more of each other.”

Ten minutes isn’t enough. 

She wants their talks to be endless. Hours and hours of talks; the kind of conversations where your words trail off, yawns fill the empty spaces and silences and you fall asleep next to each other and wake up and smile because you can talk again.

Lily grips onto the umbrella tight, blinking hard. There are hundreds of students in these halls, almost a thousand. 

Suddenly the words don’t seem to bring that much hope to her at all.

“Yeah, maybe.” She says regardless, wanting it more than ever.

It can’t end like this. 

They’ve just had the most bizarre encounter; one that she can see telling her kids and grandkids ‘and that’s how Grandpa James and I met’. And yet here he is now, walking away from her.

James gives her a little wave and then he turns the key into the lock and the doors open.

He looks back and smiles and waves again and she feels like a hopeless idiot, standing there and watching him like a stalker as he goes inside the doors.

Maybe he’ll turn back, maybe he’ll be feeling the same way and not want it to end either. 

But he doesn’t look back. 

He climbs up the stairs and then he’s gone.

Lily stands there, dumbfounded. 

The rain has stopped but still she stands there, watching the door of the E building with her umbrella up, no doubt looking like a wally. The handle is still warm from his touch and she can’t help but sigh.

God Lily, she thinks with a grumble. She finally turns her back to the door, takes a deep breath and walks down the small hill to her own building, P.

She’s never going to see him again. And he was perfect.

#jily #jily fanfiction #hiddenpolkadots #alrightevans #jily fic #txt #part 2 coming soon #when i have the strength to

[rimofwell]

I wouldn’t consider myself a nostalgic person when it comes to my eating disorder history. I don’t ever feel super inclined to compare where I am now to where I was, and for the most part, the fact that I had Anorexia just isn’t something I think about at all. It’s strange, in a way, since I was diagnosed in April of 2008 and didn’t fully recover until the summer of 2015, right after my gap year. That’s a little over 7 years, so an actual third of my life.

Anyway, I was going grocery shopping with my mom today and just casually buying all of the things I usually do. I spent like a solid 10 minutes staring at the ice cream deciding what flavor I wanted to get and it was all very normal and calm. The store we were shopping at is the same one we’ve been shopping at since I was a kid and for some reason it didn’t hit me until today that years ago in that very same place I was having literal meltdowns about getting juice that had 130 calories per serving instead of the 120 that I was used to. Back then, I would sit at the table for actual hours upon hours because I refused to eat the meal in front of me and I wasn’t allowed to get up until I “took a bite.” I would strategically eat my meals so that I had places to hide the food. I actually had cups and bowls positioned at various places in my house so that I could transfer my food to them when no one was looking and just throw it out later. I would have these horrendous tantrums that ended up with both my parents and I smashing plates and breaking glasses and screaming at the top of our lungs. It was all honestly unreal and crazy. Not to mention all of the time spent in hospitals, pleading the nurses to let me get out of bed and shower instead of use a washcloth in bed because they thought if I got up I’d somehow have a heart attack and die, or spending weekends with my parents on pass playing endless games of monopoly and fighting over exchanges.

Right now, I feel entirely, unequivocally separated from all of it. Genuinely, it’s as if all of the memories I have of that were from some documentary I watched, or a book I read---that’s how separate it feels from where I am now, and what my life is at this moment. 

As I was walking to the checkout I almost started laughing because these two selves seem entirely incompatible to me. I can’t fully reconcile with the fact that I did all of those things, and that I was that person for quite some time. It’s just literally unbelievable that things transpired the way that they did. WILLINGLY purchasing and/or consuming food of ANY kind is something that would have never happened in any capacity years ago & willingly purchasing and consuming things like ice cream, chips, peanut butter etc? Unfathomable. My then-self would have thought she’d die before embracing any semblance of recovery. And my current self can’t even fathom what would compel me to nearly starve myself to death over and over again. I almost wanted to call my mom over and say, “Can you believe that five, six, seven years ago we were having screaming matches over a 10 calorie ice cream difference? Can you believe that I was that scared of food and of life?” Yet, here we are on the other side of what at the time seemed like the one thing that would never change. 

Of course, I didn’t say anything. I just bought my Ben & Jerry’s, drove home, studied for exams and wrote this post. Something that would have been completely unimaginable years ago. 

Eating disorders can be utterly incapsulating, to the point of suffocating the logic and rationale out of what otherwise would be a very sensible person. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and I don’t think anyone really thought it would, but I am so glad I got better.

#weird eating disorder reflection bc when have i ever done this??? #ed post

[fuck-customers]

Promotions, Disrespectful Coworkers, and Shitty Customers

So long long story here, takes place over three? months. TL;DR at bottom.

So I've been working at the Freshest of Grains for over a year now, my first job and I've shifted between two different departments for mental health reasons. Anyways, I shifted onto checkouts at the same time another girl joined that team of people. We bonded over our mutual suffering of working at a 'rich people' supermarket. So needless to say for awhile at the beginning I had a really shitty attitude (no idea why they kept me on to be honest) but over time I came around and started actually trying and everything was pretty okay, was still friends with coworker - I'll call her A.

Cue about 5 duty managers (people who have been trained to approve the sale of alcohol while also blocking minors from buying) leaving all around the same time and 3 checkout assistants leaving too. So we're ridiculously short staffed, and a lot of the new people are struggling because it's nearing Christmas so it's getting busier. This is when A starts calling out A LOT, like every second shift. She's a party girl, goes out probably 4 or 5 times a week. And she hates working at this store. Not hard to guess what's going on. So me and another coworker (H) basically pull double time because we're having to cover her shifts on top of doing ours (say I have a 11am-7pm, I was doing 8am-7pm) so our manager K, notices this. Whenever she asks us to stay behind or come in early, we always do it.

A only comes in for her Christmas Eve shift, and has a shitty attitude as per usual. So after this the manager starts hinting at me and H that we might be getting promoted - naturally we are both stoked about this. This is a few weeks after Christmas when it starts getting more serious and K is pushing us to train under the remaining duty managers. This is when A's behaviour gets insulting, and only towards me. She has no problem with H. But when it comes to me, she's snide and catty and refuses to call my name when I am on alcohol training on the floor - which is a serious risk because I may not catch the alcohol if she puts it through herself. (K trusts the team to call on DMs to approve alcohol even if the whole team knows the code to put the alcohol through themselves)

So that's another stressor added onto my list aside from training for being a duty manager & having to deal with the knowledge that there is a huge fine with my name on it if I sell to a minor. It hasn't come to a head yet, but A is claiming she's leaving soon (as she's been threatening to do ever since she started working here) and I really can't be bothered dealing with that when I have other things on my plate it's easy enough to ignore.

The customers though... They're another story. The regulars (all bar one) are fine, they're pleasant enough to us, and we know them by name, that's fine. It's the people who come once or twice and expect us to pull shit out of our asses for them that really twist my underwear. I only recently gained my cert to be able to duty manage, but I'm considered one of the senior staff & if there are any newbies I am the one to usually train them (since I probably made the most mistakes when I started so I can tell them what Not to do)

So one day I'm training a girl and she's doing really well and not freaking out too much and she's listening to what I say and then we get a customer we call the 'dog lady' - she has a couple of dogs she brings to the store and the dogs wait outside. They're ridiculously obedient and wait at the exit door for her and they're super cute, but the lady herself is a total cow. She treats the store like it's her home, coming in 5 mins before we close most times & staying until well after 8pm. She's also very very finicky about how she likes her food packed. So I'm with this trainee and the dog lady comes to the counter & is her usual self. I get the trainee to pack since I know the order this customer likes her things packed. We finish the transaction and all is well until the lady takes a look in her bags and just??? Lets out this awful screech like she'd just seen the body of her dog in the bag. She starts going OFF, like full tantrum mode. I'm not too fazed because I've seen this a couple of times before but the trainee is just frozen and stuttering out apologies and I feel awful for her. So I diffuse the situation and let the trainee take a ten to chill out and when she comes back she just has her bags and says she doesn't think she can take it! Fair enough, but at least finish the shift!! She had maybe another hour left.

(Side note: I suffer from GAD so I can totally understand if an angry customer is going to put you off but have the decency to finish the shift, even if you need half an hour for a breather - which I've had to do once before)

We have another semi-regular too. He's American, intimidating and generally just unpleasant to deal with. I'm his favourite cashier (when I'm on till) because even though he doesn't acknowledge any of our existences EVER, I'm still nice to him. He's also pretty fucking racist because about 85% of our team is made up of non-white people. So of course he ONLY goes to the white people (this is attested to by myself, since I'm his favourite and a few other people that have dealt with him). I've taken to just jumping off till if I see him come through & I'm the only white person on the team at that time just to cause him some discomfort. Though to be fair, half of the old people we get are passively racist in this way too because we'll have say five tills open with 4 manned by non-white people, and they'd rather queue at the 1 that has a white person than go to the other ones. It gets sickening after awhile because you know they don't do it consciously it's a prejudice thing of 'a white person will be polite to me so I'll go to them'

It also comes down to, it's my job and a $10,000 fine or a person getting alcohol (when THEY SHOULDN'T BE) - I've had to turn down people for alcohol just because I ask them for I.D. and they don't have any. It's laughable when they get angry because you managed to drive here... You should have your driver's licence on you. As much as I like my coworkers and most of the regulars, sometimes this job just sucks the life out of me.

I've also got a close friend who is having an affair with another married coworker from a different department & every week she comes to me with sob stories about how he wouldn't buy her something or how he doesn't have enough time for her.... BITCH HE'S MARRIED WITH KIDS.

TL;DR Bitchy coworker would rather drown her liver than work but resents my promotion to Duty Manager that was caused by her calling out anyway. Customers that shop at a 'Artisan' store are mostly middle-class assholes that don't mind blowing $300 on a week's worth of food. Trainee full-on abandoned her shift after experiencing 1 angry customer that I dealt with, with no notice of resignation either. Close friend is also having affair with married coworker and keeps complaining about not spending enough time together, married coworker has a Marriage and Kids.

#submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #server problems #fuck coworkers #submission

[ciminonroll]

School So Far

During the first semester of classes I ran into Cassandra three times.  The first time I was going to clubfest.  Clubfest is an event at the beginning of the year where a lot of the campus clubs and activities set up booths so students can talk to members and join clubs they might be interested in.  The event was held in the building known as the Memorial Union.  In front of the front doors is a set of stairs that lead to a fountain.  On each side of the stairs there’s a path that angles off to either side.  I was going up the path on the right and suddenly Cassie and some friend of hers came out the door.  They started to go down the path I was on when suddenly Cassandra spotted me.  She stopped dead in her tracks and went wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights.  She grabbed her friend by the arm and changed paths, literally dragging her down the stairs in the center.  She then proceeded to put her hands on her friends shoulders and duck behind her trying to hide but being extremely obvious about it.  It was kind of embarrassing to watch.  I almost felt bad for her.  I was wearing sunglasses so I just pretended I didn’t see anything and kept on walking inside.

The second time I was shopping at Target and ended up in the self checkout next to her.  I noticed she kept giving me sideways glares the whole time I was checking out so as soon as I payed I turned to her and when she glared up at me I just smiled politely and gave her a friendly wave.  My policy for any time I see her is just to kill her with kindness.  She hurt me so much more than I ever could have imagined.  But I don’t believe that’s any reason for me to try and hurt another human being back.  If I was rude to her then I’m no better than she is.  I refuse to fall that low.

The third time I saw Cassandra needs a little bit of backstory.  Over the course of the semester I made a lot of new friends.  It was a goal of mine to be more social and slowly working on that aspect of my life over the summer really payed off when classes started.  I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be someone people felt like they could go to if they ever needed me.  I knew what it felt like to be in the low points of depression and I had to face it alone.  I don’t ever want anyone else to have to face that kind of pain alone.  No one deserves that.  A few of my friends would confide in me for their more serious problems.  I pride myself on being someone who will drop whatever they are doing to be there for one of my friends in need.  

At this point I had also lost 40 pounds and completely changed how I take care of myself physically.  I started dressing better, shaving my neck, keeping clean cut facial hair, styling my hair, etc.  I had always had a bit of an image in the back of my mind ever since the summer that one day I would be walking along on campus and Cassandra would be walking by on the same sidewalk and there would be no one else around.  I would just walk by casually and I could see how much she regretted everything she did to me as she sees the new person I’ve become.  But that never happened... for most of the semester.

On the last day of the semester one of the friends I helped when she started cutting herself asked me to go get food at a dining center with her because she had a few more meals in her meal plan and semester was about to end.  This girl is one of the prettiest girls I know and she’s a really great person.  After we eat I offer to give her a ride back to her apartment so we start walking to my car.  On our way lo and behold guess who I see walking in our direction?  I finally had my moment of passing by.  She saw the new me and even better yet I was with a pretty girl laughing at a story she was telling me.  Cassie flipped her hair over her face and almost ran past us.  It felt good like I was finally getting the closure I was never allowed to have.  The closure Cassandra denied me almost a year ago.  The closure I deserved.

[instantdeerlover]

Our Three Favorite Spots For Everything (During Quarantine) added to Google Docs

Our Three Favorite Spots For Everything (During Quarantine)

In the beforetimes, when Corona was just a beer, we launched a recurring feature called Our Three Favorite Spots For: Everything, where we wrote about the very best spots for very specific dishes - from gluten-free pastas to big ol’ chicken parms, and everything in between.

Well, things have changed a bit since then, but even during quarantine, we still get cravings. Luckily, most of our favorite dishes can now be delivered right to our doorsteps. And as restaurants shift to takeout, we’ve discovered even more meals to obsess over. So here’s a brand-new, shelter-in-place version of our Three Spots guide. We’ll be updating it regularly, so check back often. (And let’s be honest; it’s not like there’s much else going on).

All restaurants featured on The Infatuation are selected by our editorial team. Our Three Favorite Spots For: Everything (During Quarantine) is presented by Uber Eats. In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, supporting our local restaurant community has never been more important. Uber Eats customers can now give directly to the restaurants they love at checkout. 100% will go to the restaurant. Order now to support. See app for details.

THREE SPOTS FOR: TACO TUESDAY (SINCE EVERY DAY IS TUESDAY NOW)

Listen: LA Editor James Montgomery has come unstuck in time. If you got that reference, yes, he’s spent quarantine re-reading Slaughterhouse-Five. (Also, how’s that English degree working out for you?) If you didn’t, you can at least understand the sentiment: Every day is the same. So you might as well lean into the monotony - and discover some of LA’s overlooked gems - by making every day Taco Tuesday.

Los Cinco Puntos $ $ $ $ Tacos ,  Mexican  in  Boyle Heights $$$$ 3300 E Cesar E Chavez Ave 8.3 /10

Quite possibly my favorite taco spot in all of LA, this deli and market in Boyle Heights is known for their carnitas (for good reason), but my favorite things here are the crispy, crackly chicharron tacos. Though, to be honest, their thick, chewy tortillas are the perfect vessel for just about anything.

 Jakob Layman My Two Cents $ $ $ $ Southern  in  Pico Robertson $$$$ 5583 W Pico Blvd 7.8 /10

An Infatuation reader (Hi, Mallory!) let us know that this fantastic Southern spot has turned to tacos during COVID, opening a side hustle called Tacos Negros. And I’m glad she did - their turkey tacos (smoky, spicy, and served in a deep-fried shell) are fantastic. Don’t worry, you can still order their stupendous shrimp and grits, too.

 Order delivery   Jakob Layman Coni'seafood $ $ $ $ Mexican ,  Seafood  in  Marina Del Rey $$$$ 4532 S. Centinela Ave. 8.5 /10

Yeah, it made our Best Tacos In LA list last year, but IMHO, there may not be a more underappreciated taco in town than the marlin taco at Coni’Seafood. Stuffed with smoked marlin spread and cheese, it’s simple, savory, satisfying, and certainly not the kind of thing you’d see on your Instagram feed - but what good taco is?

THREE SPOTS FOR: CURED MEATS

Since quarantine started, Staff Writer Brett Keating has been unabashedly riding the sourdough train, and now that he’s perfected his loaves (or so he says), he’s been eating a lot of sandwiches. Here are his favorite places to pick up cured meats to put inside of them.

 Roma Market Italian Deli $$$$ 918 N Lake Ave

Roma Deli in Pasadena serves my favorite sandwich in LA. It’s an Italian cold cut sub on crispy bread, it only costs $5.50, and it’s perfect. But they’ve also got the city’s best Italian cured meats, from prosciutto di Parma and capicola to mortadella, salumi, and bresaola. I always pick up some Calabrian chili and fresh bread, too, to make an extremely professional-looking (amateur) cheese board.

 Jakob Layman Gwen Butcher Shop $$$$ 6600 Sunset Blvd.

Gwen in Hollywood makes all their charcuterie in-house, resulting in some excellent (and occasionally surprising) cuts, like cold-smoked duck speck, coppa secca cured with garlic and chilies, and incredible duck and pork ’nduja.

Sahag's Basturma $ $ $ $ Sandwiches ,  Armenian  in  East Hollywood $$$$ 5183 W Sunset Blvd Not

Rated

Yet

This Armenian market in East Hollywood is my go-to when I’m making basturma sandwiches. Their basturma - salty cured beef - is sliced so thin it literally melts in your mouth, and goes great in a sandwich with some pickles and tomatoes.

THREE SPOTS FOR: WHEN YOU MISSED OUT ON THE N/NAKA KAISEKI BOX (AGAIN)

There are two types of people in this world: Those who have tried the n/naka to-go box, and those who haven’t. Editorial Assistant Kat Hong is, unfortunately, the latter. Here’s where she orders from when she (inevitably) fails to snag one the prized bentos.

 Jakob Layman Holbox $ $ $ $ Mexican ,  Seafood  in  Downtown LA ,  South Los Angeles $$$$ 3655 S. Grand Ave 8.7 /10

If Tock refuses to let you ball out at n/naka, then it’s time to console yourself with some of the best Mexican seafood in the city. Holbox’s new at-home taco kits come with three different kinds of tacos - Baja-style fish, octopus, and scallops - as well as their excellent mixed ceviche, black beans, rice, and pico de gallo. Sure it’s “meant for two people,” but just like my continued, naive optimism, that really means nothing.

 Jakob Layman Tokyo Hamburg $ $ $ $ Japanese ,  Bar Food  in  Koreatown $$$$ 600 S New Hampshire Ave. 8.0 /10

Why the hell are there such a limited number of sets available? Can’t they just... Anyway, if it’s incredible Japanese food you’re after, I can’t recommend this little spot in Ktown enough, specifically their chicken katsu curry plate, which comes with an Olympic pool-sized container of thick, gravy-like sauce.

 Order delivery   Jakob Layman The Tam O'Shanter $ $ $ $ American ,  Steaks  in  Atwater Village $$$$ 2980 Los Feliz Blvd 7.8 /10

Sometimes the highest form of self care is to just say f*ck it and order a quart of creamed corn. The Tam O’Shanter gets it. The Tam O’Shanter always gets it.

THREE SPOTS FOR: DISCOUNTED SUSHI OMAKASE

As restaurants started to pivot to takeout-only a few months ago, Editorial Lead Brant Cox figured he’d have to put his love for sushi omakase on hold for a while. He was wrong. Some of LA’s best sushi bars have reopened for takeout - many for the first time ever - and are offering their iconic omakase at prices that won’t completely terrify you.

 Jakob Layman Sushi Note $ $ $ $ Wine Bar ,  Sushi  in  Sherman Oaks $$$$ 13447 Ventura Blvd 8.8 /10

Over the weekend, I picked up Sushi Note’s Half Note omakase - one of my favorites in town - and it was almost as good as eating there. Eight pieces of premium sushi (including their legendary gravlax), two appetizers, and a roll for only $45. I’ll be back this weekend.

 Order delivery   Holly Liss Sushi Park $ $ $ $ Sushi  in  West Hollywood $$$$ 8539 W Sunset Blvd #20 9.5 /10

The fact that Sushi Park is doing takeout at all is monumental. The fact they’re doing a ten-piece omakase for only $65 is borderline insane. I was worried it might not be that much food, but I was quickly proven wrong. The sushi is huge, the variety is immense, and I was extremely sad when it was over.

 Jakob Layman Matsumoto $ $ $ $ Sushi  in  Beverly Grove $$$$ 8385 Beverly Blvd 8.7 /10

I’m quarantining fairly close to Matsumoto, so it’s become a biweekly pit stop for me. There are several different omakase options on the menu, ranging from $55-150, so whatever you (and your wallet) are in the mood for tonight, they’ll have you covered.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/los-angeles/guides/best-takeout-delivery-la-quarantine-covid Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created May 20, 2020 at 11:42PM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 124, October 2018

On Monday afternoon, Mum and I drove down the Princes Highway and visited the Lady Lavender's Tea Room in Bunyip. It was a beautiful 22 degree Spring day and we thought we should take the opportunity to make the most of it. We’ve driven past this place a few times on our way to other destinations such as Yarragon, Warrigul and Bairnesdale but today was the first time actually going in there. The venue is located on a large acre lot featuring many rows of lavender plants, a water fountain, scrubs, flowers, a gift shop and the tea rooms.

The tea room borrows heavily the interior decoration styles of the 1930’s with gilded floral print furniture, an old fashioned record player and varnished antique bookcases. Mum and I treated ourselves to a serving of Devonshire scones with jam and cream, a club sandwich and a pot of tea. Next we visited the gift shop next door and picked up a few items including an ABBA vinyl record from 1977, lavender spray, bag and pillow case, a plastic lotus flower.

On Monday night, I attended my Men of Doveton - 2018 session at Doveton College. After my absence last week, I was really in two minds about continuing and finishing off this program. I had so many conflicting thoughts going on inside my head (Do I really belong in this group? Do the other guys really care about me? Am I getting anything out of this program? Should I bother finishing it or just drop out now?). I guess you could say that I’ve always tried to finish what I’ve started and I’ve also started some positive lifestyle habits so it hasn’t been a waste of time for me.

I think I’ve also put a lot of internal pressure on myself to quickly form friendships and contribute more during the talks when perhaps I’m just not ready for that. Maybe letting it all sink in is a better idea. The other dilemma is my attendance record. I’ve missed two sessions and now I’m on the borderline of collecting enough stamps in my passport. If I miss one more session, I might as well kiss the graduation ceremony goodbye. So it’s now or never. Two more weeks to go.

In the first half of the session, we had a basketball training session with Brent from Casey Basketball. This is one of the few sports I actually enjoyed back in primary school, even playing it at lunchtimes and after school with some friends. But that certainly doesn’t mean that I found it easy to play. We began by doing some warm-up drills which tested our hand-eye coordination and ball handling skills. Doing dribbles and figure 8’s around your legs was challenging but fun at the same time. http://www.caseybasketball.com.au/

We then participated in a few games which involved learning how to shoot a basketball into the ring, controlling the ball and defending/attacking the ball from others. Whilst my first few attempts were crap, I was amazed to see myself scoring a few points when I focused and really tried hard. And that’s the one compliment I’ll always give myself: I do try fucking hard even if I suck at it. It was admittedly a great moment when people gave me a round of applauds for getting the ball in the ring from the three-point line. https://www.breakthroughbasketball.com/basics/basics.html

In the second half of the session, we had a lady named Sylvia return to present information on the LIFE program which helps with the prevention of type II diabetes. She got us to fill out a questionnaire to determine our level of risk as well as have measurements like blood pressure, weight and waist circumference taken by the nurse. We also had Mo talking about the benefits of physical exercise and doing a stretch demonstration as a group as well as getting us to fill out a weekly exercise planner. https://www.lifeprogram.org.au/

I was doing the best that I could to keep a straight face on throughout all of this. I feel like they tried to pack way too many activities in tonight, which I’m sure was not intentional, but I was struggling a lot. My brain was fried by the end of tonight’ session. I think there was a number of factors at play: lack of sleep and poor quality of sleep, heightened anxiety levels, not eating enough before coming, chronic fatigue, feeling pressured to get the sheets filled out and being too much of a people-pleaser. Plus the talk of type II diabetes was a major trigger and very confronting territory for me considering my grandma had a late diagnosis of it. I pretty much refuse to have the same diagnosis.

I’m still getting to know these guys and the level of trust is just not there for me. I still have a very hard time saying no to people and I feel like within this particular group of men, having a different opinion or disagreeing with someone else will ultimately go against you. It’s probably why I was beginning to feel physically ill and uncomfortable because being a “yes” person and being pressured or manipulated by others isn’t in my true nature. It’s very much an issue of self confidence and not being able to stand up for myself.

I’m all for being encouraging, supportive, positive and helping others but not at the expense of being fake. And that’s not me being negative, that’s me being real. There is also an extreme hesitation to speak up and contribute in this group. Mo does his best to encourage it but I feel like this group is just far too large to feel comfortable enough to open up. The select few that do instant get congratulated. The majority who don’t are left on the sidelines. Like many groups I’ve been a part of in the past, I feel like I’m on the outside looking in, struggling to be noticed and included.

By the time I left tonight, I actually felt relieved to be out of the building and back in my car. I think I just had a lot of pent up energy and releasing it around those guys wouldn’t have gone down well at all. I’m still determined to finish off this program but after that, I think the gate will be shut for me. https://www.caseystadium.ymca.org.au/whats-on/upcoming-events/event/men-of-doveton-free-health-program-2/2018/07/30

On Tuesday morning, Mum and I visited IKEA Springvale. I was still feeling pretty worked up about everything that went down at my Men of Doveton session last night. Not only that, but I felt completely overloaded by so many commitments I had going on including work-related changes, getting my approved NDIS plan, preparing myself for my first appointment with Dr. Ricardo (consulting psychiatrist), wanting to participate in a sleep study for autistic adults, going to the gym and small group training classes, counselling sessions with Ruth, applying for jobs and waiting to hear back from them.

Thankfully going to IKEA was the positive distraction that I needed from everything that’s causing my stress and anxiety in my life. I only go there a couple of times a year but I always appreciate all the changes they make to the showrooms and items that they sell in the store. Of course the layout is still bewildering and sensory-overload with so many things to absorb at once. My favourite part will always be the Market Hall downstairs, particularly the kitchen, bathroom, lighting, wall art, flowers, plants and candle sections.

We spent about 2-3 hours just slowly navigating our way through each section, picking up mostly inexpensive homeware items like cushions, glasses, artificial plants and flowers, a lint roller, plastic bag sealers, Christmas ornaments, a bath mat, an apple-shaped candle holder. My energy levels and fatigue were very much being tested today so we decided to skip parts of it and we had to rest at the restaurant.

I’ve always found most of the food here to be pretty bland and average in quality, though I was really pleased to see that they’ve improved their coffee blend. By the time we got there, the cafeteria was packed with the lunchtime crowd and it got a bit much for me. Luckily we found a quiet area to sit down and have our lunch. Of course being IKEA tradition, we also bought a $1 hotdog each after going through the checkouts.

On Tuesday night, I attended a Yin yoga class with Aaron Petty at Level Up Yoga in Berwick. It’s been a month since I last attended a class here with a lot of other commitments taking up my time. There was also many excuses and lies brought on by my relentless, interfering anxiety (Do I really fit in here? I’m too tired to do yoga. I can’t be bothered driving there). It’s true that I’ve also been rather harsh with myself in some of my previous classes when I couldn’t perform a movement correctly or just wasn’t getting it.

Tonight I managed to let all of my unrealistic expectations and inner critic go. Accepting help from others is often a challenge for me as I used to see it as being incapable or not good enough or weak. Same with making mistakes. I had some trouble getting into the Reclining Butterfly pose with my strap getting all tangled up and not quite in the right position. But instead of beating myself up over it or getting embarrassed like I usually do, I actually laughed at myself and accepted that “Yeah, shit happens!”.

It’s good to see that the sense of community spirit is still alive within this yoga studio. I did have some reservations about coming back to Level Up Yoga but not enough to put me off entirely. A lot of it has to do with my perception of how others view me which of course leads to overthinking. This is still something I’m continuing to work on but it’s nice that other students, even ones that I’ve only just met, make the effort to include me at the studio.

That’s one of the reasons I keep coming back. Another is the fact that Aaron is passionate, committed and genuinely invested in his yoga teachings. He challenges everyone in a beneficial way and never puts anyone down. And that’s the kind of environment that I thrive in, one that is encouraging, supportive and nurturing. Where we all help one another no matter what shit we’re going through. https://www.aaronpetty.com/teaching-schedule/

On Thursday afternoon, Mum and I went out to Cranbourne Park Shopping Centre. You wouldn’t have to be a clinical psychologist to figure out that I haven’t been myself lately. After discovering that my counsellor Ruth had to cancel my appointment this afternoon, my mental health seemed to take a downward turn. Paired with my poor sleeping patterns, I was experiencing severe levels of irritability, poor concentration, lack of focus, low motivation, daytime sleepiness, low energy levels and low mood.

Mum was doing her best to manage my manic mood swings, treating me to coffees, a bacon and egg toastie and carrot cake but these didn’t seem to help me much. I was just spewing up a lot of negative crap like a volcanic eruption. I’ve literally been counting down the days until my first appointment with Dr. Ricardo Peralta and get myself a prescription for medication that will help me. I’m not the easiest person to deal with when I’m feeling depressed and worthless like a lifeless zombie. But Mum has always been on my side, even during the darkest of moments and I’m extremely thankful for that.

On Friday morning, Jen Angee, Mum and I went on a car trip to visit the suburbs of Ashwood and Ashburton. It was a beautiful Spring day with a light breeze and plenty of sunshine. Considering how rough this week has been for me, this was exactly what I needed to feel better about myself: Vitamin D and pleasant childhood memories. Jen gave us a history lesson of her old childhood memories growing up in the Ashburton area off High Street Road and Ashwood off Cleveland Street.

Whilst some building have been torn down, demolished, rebuilt or been renovated on, it was pleasing to see that some of the older commission houses and shops still remain in tact. A mixture of brick veneer, cement render and weatherboard with newly built front fences and modern features, they all have a historic charm to them, surviving for many decades and standing the test of time. http://www.victorianplaces.com.au/ashburton

We decided to have a browse at the nearby Op Shop and have lunch and coffee at the Milk Cloud Cafe. Of course the one thing that has changed is the degree of traffic driving down the main street with a few residents walking their dogs, riding their bikes and rushing across the pedestrian crossings. Meanwhile, the three of us were just taking our time, appreciating the many shops and elements in the streetscape. It really made for a great day out. https://www.weekendnotes.com/melbourne/ashburton/

“When I'm on my feet, I can take the heat. But when I get low I prefer the cold. I can be a hard light to ignite. All my nightmares feel like real life. Wait for the explosion. Only to anticipate. Running in slow motion. I can never get away. Sweet paralysation. No one here to keep me safe. Hyperventilation. I'm about to go insane. Wake me up and keep me conscious.” Broods - Conscious (2016)

“No one can make you change who you are. No one can take one beat from your heart. When you're standing tall. You're unbreakable. No one can make you bend, you won't fold. No one can take your shine, you're all gold. When you're standing tall. You're unbreakable.” Birds of Tokyo - Unbreakable (2018)

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The Definition Of "commercial" Remains Murky

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