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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 3 years

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FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2021 #13: In which Cameron and Donna start to look toward the future

[CN: spoilers for 2x10 and beyond of Halt and Catch Fire]

It was almost 11pm, the hour when the Mutiny house would finally really start to quiet down. (Or, so long as there wasn’t some crisis that needed to be dealt with immediately.) As usual, Cameron was wide awake. Her bedroom door was wide open, to let in the light from the kitchen, and her bedroom window was open to let in some air and some moonlight. Normally, Cameron would have been working, still, or at the very least logged on, chatting and playing games with Mutiny users, though lately she’d been trying to spend more time on the community pages, observing conversations. But that night, Cameron had gone into her room and gotten into bed. Gazing at her bedroom ceiling, shoulders, neck, and back finally relaxed, Cameron could only think of one thing: California.

Cameron had been daydreaming about the server for a good twenty minutes when her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. When the ignition turned off, she realized that she wanted it to be Tom, but then remembered that he probably wouldn’t have come back in a car. She was trying to forget about him when she heard footsteps in the kitchen. She sat up, planting one foot on the floor, ready to grab the baseball bat that she kept near her bed, but before she could get up, there was Donna, hovering just outside of her bedroom.

She knocked on the doorframe. “Hey.”

Slightly bewildered, and mildly worried, Cam said, “Hey. How’s Joanie?”

Donna’s face relaxed. “She’s okay. Thanks for calling and asking about her earlier.”

“Yeah, sure,” Cameron shook her head. “I’m just glad you found her, and that she’s okay.”

Without further preamble, Donna said, “I talked to Gordon. About California.”

Unable to hide her surprise, Cameron said, “…oh.” Heart suddenly pounding, she put her other foot on the floor, so that she was sitting on the edge of her bed, and leaned forward. “And?”

Donna looked around, checking to see that none of the other staff members were within earshot, and then went into Cameron’s room. Pulling the door closed behind her, she said, “I think we have a plan.”

A plan. “Really?” Cameron semi-whispered. “That’s great? Okay.” She scratched her head absent-mindedly and then said, “You could have called me to tell me that. Or waited until tomorrow? Is everything okay?”

Only half answering, Donna said, “Everyone was asleep, and I needed to get out of the house. Figured I’d try coming here.”

Cameron exhaled, shoulders relaxing again, and realized that she’d been holding her breath. Then, she looked at Donna, standing awkwardly near her closed bedroom door still and said, “Sorry, do you wanna sit? Or something?” She gestured toward her bed, as if trying to wave Donna into the room.

Donna looked around, but of course, there wasn’t anywhere else to sit. She sat down, gingerly, next to Cameron, on her bed, knees close together, hands in the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt.

Cameron was forcibly reminded of Rick calling Donna “Mrs. Garrett” the night he sold them the counterfeit XTs and they went to confront him. “Sorry,” she said, again. “I’ll have to get a chair at some point.”

“California dreamin’,” Donna deadpanned.

Cameron snorted, and then thought about it. Crossing her legs underneath her, she said, “Huh. I guess you’re right, my future chair will be in my future bedroom in California. That is so weird to actually think about. Like, is this really happening?”

“I guess it depends,” Donna said. “We still gotta figure out how to make it work. There’s a lot to hammer out.”

“Right,” Cameron said. She leaned forward, elbows propped up on her knees, and rested her chin in her hand. “So what next?”

“Well,” Donna shrugged, hands still in her pockets, “I guess, we tell the guys. Tomorrow.”

“But tell them what, exactly?” Cameron wondered out loud. “We’re doing this? Deal with it?”

“We don’t 100% know that we’re doing it,” Donna said. “What we know is that we’re seriously considering it, and that we’ve started to make...inquiries,” she said, carefully.

Cameron smirked. “Spoken like a true product manager.”

Pulling her hands out of her pockets, Donna threw up her hands, and shrugged, “Someone’s gotta do it!” Then she said, “The guys have been very open minded, so far. I don’t think they’ll hate the idea.” She turned toward Cameron, folding one leg and tucking it underneath her, and hunched forward. They’ll understand about the server, and why it could be worth moving across the country to have one of our own. I think, we should just let them know what we’re thinking, and ask them to really think about whether they’d be willing to make the trip.”

It was a practical and commonsense approach, but Cameron, of course, immediately jumped to what felt like the worst possible outcome. Face creased with real concern, she looked at Donna, and said, “What if none of them come with us?”

“Then we’ll have to make some decisions. We can stay here, with our staff, or we can move and make new hires. Plenty of coder monkeys to be found in Silicon Valley.” Idly twisting her wedding and engagement rings around her left ring finger, Donna added, “I really don’t think that none of them will come with us, though.” When Cameron didn’t look reassured, she said, “Unless there’s one person in particular that you’re worried about? Who’s technically already quit?”

Cameron’s face turned slightly red. Then, darkly, she said, “I can’t make him come back to work here, right?”

With a sympathetic, rueful smile, Donna said, “It sucks, right? I get it, though. It feels really great when the person you care about really gets your work, and why you love it, right? The idea of not working with them anymore, it’s….” She sighed. “If we find a way — or, when we find a way to get out there — just ask him, Cameron. He might decide to come with us.”

Leaning back against her headboard, Cameron said, “He also might not. Can’t stay here and wait around for him to forgive me though, right?”

“You could,” Donna said. “I think you might regret it if you didn’t go after that server because of a guy who technically stole your game.”

Cameron rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine, you’re right. I would.” She uncrossed her legs, pulling them up toward her chest. “Gordon’s really okay with this, though?”

Donna put her hands back in her pockets. Frowning, she admitted, “He never wanted to leave,” Donna sighed, staring at the floor. “California, I mean. He thought that moving here would be a mistake, and he was right.” She looked over at Cameron, and said, ��I’ll deny it if you ever tell him that I said he was right.”

“I won’t,” Cameron said. “But seriously, though, Donna. What if he wasn’t willing to move?

Soberly, Donna said, “I guess I’d have to get used to living in a different place from him, I guess. And the girls, I wouldn’t uproot them and make them settle somewhere else without their dad.”

Cameron wasn’t entirely surprised, but still asked, “You’d really leave your husband and kids behind for my stupid gaming company?”

Exasperated, Donna said, “It’s not just your company, is it? Mutiny is important to me, too. Building something is important to me.” She pushed a stray stand of hair out of her face and behind her ear. “Not using the girls as an excuse to not pursue things is important to me, too. I don’t know, I want them to know that it’s okay to do things. So I should do things, so they’ll know that, right?”

Anxiously, Cameron said, “Uh, I really don’t think I’m the right person to go to for parenting advice? But, I wouldn’t want my mom to not do something just because of me, and my dad. My mom didn’t work, but if she had, you know. I would’ve wanted her to go to California, if it was her. Even if we had to stay here.”

Donna rubbed her shoulder, which had been stiff lately. “We haven’t told the girls yet. Or my parents. I guess I’ll tell them after we talk to the guys about it.”

Cameron looked at her, and suddenly felt very grateful that she was there. “If you didn’t want to, or if Gordon didn’t want to and you didn’t want to leave him, I wouldn’t go. I’d keep looking for a server here. Or, I don’t know, I’d get my tractor license, or whatever and I’d go out there and pick it up and bring it back here.”

Donna grinned sadly at her. “You’d really do all that to keep working with me at our stupid gaming company?”

Cameron smiled at her. “What if I need to steal some more XTs from a black market dealer? I’d need you for that.”

Donna chuckled. Then she argued, “It wasn’t stealing! We paid for the merchandise!”

Cameron hugged her knees to her chest, and rested her chin on her arm. “Remember the first time we took the network offline? For ‘routine maintenance,’ when we first started to really grow, and get tons of users? And then we had to put it back online, and you had to come back here at 10 that night because people were logging on but then they kept getting kicked off, and they were starting to call to complain? And you came and fixed it and then fell asleep here, and then woke up at 5 am and rushed home so that the girls wouldn’t think you’d left them that night?”

Unsure of where Cameron could be going with this, Donna said, “…yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Cameron said. “I just can’t imagine doing this without you.”

It was everything that Donna had wanted to hear, even if preferably from Gordon, but hearing Cameron say it to her made Donna feel unexpectedly and pleasantly warm. She’d never dreamed that Cameron might feel that way, much less say it to her. Trying to stay calm, she said, “Well, I’m sure you’d be just fine, without my expertise.” She started to get up, turning away from Cameron to stretch her legs out in front of her.

Cameron watched her stand up, and said, “Hey, it’s late. You know that if you’re too tired to drive, you can stay over.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Donna smiled at her. “But I’m okay, and I should get back.” She stretched her arms overhead.

Cameron felt the same weird tinge of disappointment that she always felt when Donna went home at the end of the day. “Right,” she nodded. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Yep,” Donna smiled. She walked to the door, and then stopped and turned to say, “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“I won’t,” Cameron rolled her eyes.

Donna smiled at her. “‘Night, Cam.” She turned to face forward again, and walked out the door, and went out to her car, where she realized that her hands were shaking, and that her heart had started to beat fast and loud.

Cameron listened as Donna started the car and drove off. She stretched her legs out in front of her, and then she turned on to her side, folding her arm under her head, and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine her life in California, wondered if Donna would still come to her house late at night and sit on her bed in that future. Without even realizing it, Cameron thought, I hope so. I hope so, I hope so, I hope so, as she started to fall asleep.

#again i feel like this could be better?#but that is how everything starts to feel 19 days into daily writing project tbh!#femslash february #femslash february 2021 #fan fiction #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson

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suttcnfm · 3 years

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hi it’s me your least favorite ( and most favorite ) person hailey back at it again making a bio that’s way too long . this is sutton , she’s my whimiscal fairy child who’s endured a lot please be gentle with her !! or ruin her life !! whatever you want !!

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

( elizabeth lail, cisfemale, she/her, pisces, 25 ) i spotted sutton harvey at the beach today. don’t you know them? they live down by the boardwalk and usually hang out with the artists & boho clique. from what i’ve heard, they can be finicky, but they’re also effervescent. i always think of them when i hear fuck it i love you - lana del rey and tend to associate them with mom jeans stained with acrylic paint, the taste of strawberry lemonade, & white cotton sundresses

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

sutton elise harvey

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬)

her mom used to call her ellie

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

february 22nd

𝐚𝐠𝐞

twenty - five ( 25 )

𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

five foot eight inches ( 5′ 8″ )

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

female

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬

she / her

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧(𝐬)

painter and art contributor for sunhollow museum

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞(𝐬)

english & french

𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

bisexual & biromantic

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦

elizabeth lail

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜

pisces sun, gemini rising, & aries moon

𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

chaotic neutral

𝐦𝐛𝐭𝐢

enfp-a

𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞

type 4w3 ( the individualist )

𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

sanguine-melancholic

𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

hufflepuff

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

how she loves others - acts of service, gift giving, & quality time

how she needs to be loved - quality time & physical touch

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨

cassie ainsworth ( skins ) , luna lovegood ( harry potter ) , bubbles ( powerpuff girls ) , claire colburn ( elizabethtown ) , bmo ( adventure time )

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

triggers ( these are all the triggers as they appear throughout , they will be tagged accordingly ) : death mention , cancer and death tw , drug mention , sexual assault tw , addiction tw , drugs tw , and drug mention

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

the first time warm brown eyes peered into her mothers a connection was formed , the eldest daughter to what would soon be an expansive harvey household . this very moment would be the catalyst of a bond that formed sutton into who she is , though i am getting ahead of myself .

sutton harvey grew up in julian california a town that carried the suffocating small town feel of suburbia despite being mere minutes outside of the hustle and bustle of los angeles . though it should be mentioned that she preferred the quiet stillness of a town where she could known by someone for something .

her parents were an interesting pair . her mother a free spirited enigmatic young woman who believed in healing through love and nature , and her father a struggling mean - spirited business tycoon always looking for the next thing he could exploit . but despite their clashing personalities and seemingly opposite morals , they were in love , had been since high school , and they balanced each other out almost perfectly .

but as it turns out almost perfect wasn’t good enough for her father , who split when she was eight , leaving behind sutton’s heart broken mother , and five kids to raise alone .

the family was hardly making a enough to survive before the sudden departure of her father , and so this left an eight - year - old sutton to step up to the plate and help her mother , raising her siblings while her mom tried to find steady work .

as the years went on and her siblings had more and more needs things only got more difficult . trying to provide for five children on one paycheck isn’t exactly the easiest thing that one can do after all .

sutton prayed that she’d be graced with the same mean streak that her father had , but alas she was gentle at heart , similar to her mother an enigmatic personality that was hard to pin down .

while it worked in her benefit with most people , it is difficult to raise children without practical dreams , something sutton had never been a fan of , there were times when this became a point of contention between her and younger sister reece , but for the most part her siblings recognized how difficult a thing their sister was doing .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞.

DEATH MENTION her teenage years came much faster than she anticipated , and while life had been mostly smooth sailing in her eyes , there were things that sutton simply wasn’t prepared for . the loss of her mother was one of them .

CANCER & DEATH TW unbeknownst to any of her children , behind the scenes sutton’s mother had been suffering from breast cancer , and she’d opted out of getting treatment , something they couldn’t afford with the minimal money she was bringing in , and instead she suffered in silence so they would have a chance at survival .

everyone , including sutton herself , expected her to break . the bond that the two had built was immeasurable and sutton had never shown the ablitiy to be grounded before . her and her mother were both two enigmas perfectly coexisting , and suddenly it was up to sutton to figure out what to do .

DRUGS & ALCOHOL TW enter sutton’s aunt , claire , who begrudgingly left her life in las vegas to come and watch over her nieces and nephews at the price that she would blow most of the money the received on drugs and alcohol .

DRUG MENTION there wasn’t a day sutton could remember that she didn’t come home to her aunt passed out with vodka bottles littering the floor or strung out on coke with a man sutton had never seen before on their couch .

sutton’s resilience was the only thing that kept her going , she shielded her siblings from as much as she could , knowing that this was the last thing they needed to be their reality , and for the most part , it worked .

SEXUAL ASSAULT TW then came another decimating blow , on a day like any other sutton’s aunt for once sober enough to drive , pulled sutton out of school early and took her home . and what seemed like an out of character behavior for aunt to exhibit , became crystal clear when sutton saw the man waiting for her on the couch .

SEXUAUL ASSAULT TW this became another habit of her aunt’s , pulling sutton out of school in order to use her body to score drugs . then bringing her back and forcing her to act normal , as if things were still totally fine .

sutton put on a brave face for her siblings , but was slowly cracking under the pressure of everything that seemed to be perfectly chipping away at the person she once was .

this is until she met a boy , a musician with a similar story to hers , who she completely connected with in a way that was rivaled only by her mother . him and her seemed to have the same bleeding wounds that could only be healed by each other .

cue nights at the beach , swapping stories , and endless road trips confined to their little bubble of bliss . he fueled the artist within her . painting upon painting of the way he made her feel , how his music moved her , for once the world didn’t seem so cruel .

but of course , the world was determined to prove sutton harvey wrong . with a sudden disappearance of both her first love and her aunt , the latter of which ran back to vegas with her new beau , she’d felt abandoned just as before . and here is where sutton harvey finally cracked .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡.

she and her siblings moved in with her father , who living a more lavish and childless lifestyle with his new fiancée in san diego . the harvey siblings were yet again tasked with raising themselves .

ADDICTION TW with her siblings growing older , and sutton having mounds of unprocessed trauma , and she began to mix with the wrong crowd . finding the numbing of substances felt better than the hollow numbness of being abandoned by every person she’d ever loved .

art and school alike became distant priorities as she spent her last nights as a senior doing ecstasy on the beach and hooking up with randoms just to feel alive again .

DRUGS TW after just barely graduating , sutton spent her new found freedom getting high , having sex , and wasting her life away . struggling to find any sense of self in everything she’d done , her entire life seemed to have been lived for other people .

this only made her further spiral , trying to convince herself that even though this was having a negative toll on her , at least for once she was living for herself .

DRUG MENTION this was until while she was coming down from an immense high she stumbled upon a record store where through the window she caught a small glimpse of her past , of the person she used to be , the face of the boy who’d up and left all those years ago .

her entire world seemed to collide with her heart at that very moment . for a fleeting moment she felt like the girl she was in high school , full of life , love , and most importantly art .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

after this near encounter with her past self , she worked heavily on getting sober . and has now been clean for five years !!

after her first year of getting sober she worked multiple jobs to buy a small studio apartment where she could begin painting again , and even made strides to reconnect with her father and her siblings whom she’d since distanced herself from .

soon enough she became an art contributor for the local museum and earns her income between hosting small art galleries on the pier and the aforementioned art contributions .

after three years of sobriety , more widely recognized art , and a proper relationship with her father , he gifted her a beach house where she spends a majority of her time .

what started as one cat to keep her company turned into nine because if there’s one thing that sutton lacks it’s control .

she has fully embraced the person she was and the person she aims to be . her personality is a direct influence on who her mother was because if there’s anyone that sutton looks up into in life , it’s her . the best way i could describe her personality is the embodiment of the quote , “ i could never be the main character . i exist solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries . ”

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫

lavender

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

light fog because she likes the scenery it creates

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲

dawn, there’s something pure to her about the stillness of the earth at that time of day and !! it’s when she gets a lot of her painting done !!

𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥(𝐬)

butterflies and elephants

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐬

🍒🥺✨😡🌈🦋🤡🥰

𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

penelope harvey ; deceased

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

maxwell harvey ; alive

𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬)

reece harvey ; sister

elizabeth harvey ; sister

wyatt harvey ; brother

casey harvey ; brother

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

high school diploma

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬

in order of breed : poppy ( scottish fold ) , milo ( scottish fold ) , taz ( scottish fold ) , jasper ( british shorthair ) , archie ( british shorthair ) , sadie ( british shorthair ) , ginger ( maine coon ) , hunter ( maine coon ) , and felix ( maine coon )

𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬

painting , sketching , learning languages , reading , photography , writing , sewing , thrifting , playing instruments ( mostly the guitar ) , and baking

𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

a beach house gifted from her father but splits her time between a studio apartment cramped with art and a beach house filled with cats

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

has a tendency to not sleep enough , has occasional nightmares , and is prone to frequent tossing and turning . but when she does fall asleep , it’s almost a guarantee you won’t be able to wake her up . she’s an extremely heavy sleeper .

𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

honestly it’s a toss - up she either eats junk food for a straight week and has never seen a vegetable in her life , or she is on a health binge and all you’re going to find in her house is snap peas and baby carrots .

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

sunrises , house plants , soft hands , fuzzy socks , the color yellow , vanilla scented candles , soft lips , rosy cheeks , strawberries , freshly manicured nails , over sweetened coffee , kiss marks on napkins , dewy skin , french words , paint stained clothing , midnight conversations , a sweet tooth , gold jewelry , warm hugs , gentle voice , and dancing in the rain .

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

uhhhh so i have wasted all my brain power on this so some suggestions are exes , fwbs , unrequited crushes , skinny love , slow burn , a girl squad , ride or dies , work friends or maybe someone who admires her work , best friends , fake relationship , enemies , ex - friends , enemies turned friends , friends turned enemies , good influence , bad influence , old party friends , one night stand(s) , , neighbors , secret friends , and those are all the suggestions i can come up with at the moment ! feel free to message me with plot ideas i promise i will scream and cry over .

#hqclique.intro #death mention #death tw #cancer tw #assault tw #addiction tw #drugs tw #( this is bad but please love me because it took FOREVER . )

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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914

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid. I don’t like how a bar soap tends to slip out of my hands. What's the speed limit on your street? I live in a gated village with tiny streets and kids that can run out of their gates any time, so the maximum on our widest roads is 40 kph. In more cramped streets, it’s recommended to drive 15-20. When was the last time you wore your favourite article of clothing? With my favorite pair of jeans, it was at the start of the month. I don’t have a favorite top; I find them all nice. Do any of your family members have an upcoming birthday? I don’t know anyone in my family who celebrates their birthday in August. If there’s someone, I can’t place them at the moment. On a scale of 1-5, 5 being the best, rate your last kiss. 5.

What is your favourite flavour of Jolly Ranchers? I don’t eat those. Where was your Facebook profile picture taken? It was taken in the basement of my college, which had been converted into a makeshift photo studio for a few days so that we could take our senior photos there. The basement has several rooms so most of them got used for different purposes like a hair and makeup room, a changing room, the actual photo studio, etc. Do your parents smoke? No. I think my mom mentioned experimenting with cigarettes when she was in college, but she didn’t like it, quit as soon as she started, and hasn’t had one since. My dad never smoked, period. Would you rather bake cookies or a potato? Cookies. It’s more nostalgic to me, which makes the experience more fun. Who was the last person to stay the night at your house? Gabie, probs. She’s the only one who sleeps over anyway. Do you live close to a park? We have our own tiny parks in our village; but no, this country is generally not public spaces-friendly. Is your favourite animal endangered? One of them is. Have you eaten pizza in the last week? Nah man, I haven’t had pizza in a WHILE. Not since February, I’m pretty sure. Who was the last person you added to your contacts list? I don’t remember. I think it was my hair and makeup artist for a test photoshoot that I did last December. How long does it take you to shower? 7-10 minutes. Do you prefer a brand of bottled water over others, or is it all the same? Sure. There are brands that have a slightest taste, and I try to avoid those. Have you used Wikipedia today? Yes. I read at least one article a day, whether on purpose or coincidental. Idk I think that despite the fact that it’s not a credible source to include on essays and papers, I still think it’s super informative and helpful and it’s at least fun to read through and spend hours in if I’m doing leisure reading. Are you better at writing fiction or non-fiction? Non-fiction BY A MILE. The idea of writing fiction terrifies me...I’ve never been able to reach that level of creativity. Do you know anyone who has moved to a different state? I’ve known people who have moved from one province to another (we don’t have states). But in terms of the US, I also do know someone who moved from one state to another. I went to school with this girl who migrated to Hawaii a few years back, then she moved to California last year. How many pens can you see from where you’re sitting? Zero. Have you ever dated someone one grade/year above or below you? Nopes, but I’d assume that’s pretty common.

What language do you think you’d be good at? Spanish for obvious reasons.

What language do you think you’d fail at? Russian. And the African languages that have click sounds in them; I’ve always found this SO fascinating, but I know I'd never be able to perfect those. Do you still have a landline phone at your house? Yes. I have older relatives who still prefer talking on landline, so we keep it around for them. What is your current desktop background? One of the default wallpapers on my laptop. I changed it recently though. My old one was a mountain shot that mostly had a pinkish hue; and my new one is still a shot of a mountain range, but now it’s orange-purplish-pinkish.

How big is the television you last watched? Haven’t watched TV in a while. Have you ever been stung by a bee or a wasp? NOPE, one of my biggest fears.

How many schools have you been to in your lifetime? Two. I went to my first school from kindergarten to high school and the only time I transferred was when I went to college. Are you of legal age in your country? Yes. I have been in the last four years.

Why did you last visit a doctor? I had been sick for days and I was convinced it was no longer just a fever because no medicine and amount of sleep were helping, so I got myself checked. Would you prefer an ice cream cake or a regular cake? Regular cakes. Omg I hate ice cream cakes...I was never sold on the idea of cake not only being painfully cold to bite, but also capable of melting and getting all liquidy. I’m not gonna hate on other people who are into those, but I honestly never saw the hype. How old is your best friend? Gabie’s 22. Angela’s turning 22 in September. What is/was your high school’s mascot? My old school doesn’t have a mascot. We have school colors but that’s it. Do you carry pain relievers with you at all times? No. I didn’t want to be too dependent on them (still don’t) when I was still in school, so I just left the pills at home. My headaches sometimes go away on their own, anyway. Where is your mother right now? She just went upstairs to settle in their room for the night. What was the last thing to make you smile? A meme Angela sent a couple of minutes ago. Are you currently saving up for anything? Not currently since I don’t have money coming in. I imagine I’d be saving up for Airpods and a new set of braces once I start having a salary, though. Priorities, hahaha. What’s the view like from your bedroom window? Not too impressive. I just see the houses behind ours. Generally speaking, do you prefer sweet or savoury? Savory. My cravings for sweet only come once I’ve had savory. What would you do if you got home and you saw your house had been destroyed? Check the scene and see if my dogs made it. I’d try asking neighbors and the guards if they saw what happened; and I’d be devastated and anxious as fuck, of course. When did you last go outside, and what for? I walked Kimi outside an hour ago so he can do his business. We’ve closed off the balcony for now (his usual spot) since it’s been raining all day and evening, so I walked him in the area of our house that’s under a shed. Who is your favourite Sesame Street character? Didn’t really grow on Sesame Street. I suppose I liked Big Bird most, but I was never too attached to the character. How often do you check your emails? Everyday at this point. Do you have any plans for this Thanksgiving? No. What colour is your backpack? Baby pink. Would you slap the last person you talked to for twenty dollars? It’s not completely off the table, but you’re gonna have to pay me a lot more for me to slap my girlfriend lol What search engine do you usually use? Google. How much did the shirt you’re wearing cost? Couple thousand bucks. It’s official WWE merch. Patrick Stump or Pete Wentz? I never compare members within the same band. I like them both. Do you know anyone who gives way too many hugs? Laurice. Not that that’s a bad thing. She hugs eveeeeeeryone, and she’s the sweetest for doing so. What time do you usually wake up on Sundays? 7-8 AM these days, like for all days. Have you whispered today? I don’t think so. What grade did you get on the last test you took? I never got to find out my grade in my Rizal exam since the lockdown happened shortly after. That’s the only test I got to take in the second semester.

#survey #surveys

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businessbusy-love · 4 years

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Reason why you need to manufacture your products yourself

we're going to discuss why you need to manufacture your products yourself now I know I've been talking a lot about manufacturing in the previous videos any advantages of how much money you can make by yourself and that you don't need anybody else in this day and age but Want to go into a little detail here so let's say you do have a simple plastic product that you want to make you don't make it yourself what you do is you design it yourself and then you farm out all the injection molding processes you're not going to bring in some giant injection molding machine to get start edit's a waste of time you don't have the space. You have to know the business current affairs to be success.

Those machinesare really expensive they take a lot of skill to run you need to make the moldsand it goes on and on and on the electric bill the employees you don'twant all that you're an inventor looking to make good money in the simplest waypossible I call people lazy for coming up with their ideas and then not doingaging with them other than trying to sell them to other people but the reality of it is we also don't want to work too hard either we want to work efficiently for the maximum amount of money and we do that by manufacturingthem ourselves think about this even a 30 $40 item through business news.

If you can make $10 on eachitem after you've shipped it out the door to your distributor reseller oreven retail imagine how much money you can make simply just selling you know to300 units to 300 units at a $10 profit each is two to three thousand dollarsfor very little effort if all you're doing is slapping labels on and you needa bedroom or a basement or a garage somewhere just to store a few of them asthey arrive from whoever's manufacturing them for you this is a win win it shouldbe a dream come true for you guys.

It's the way I started when I first started Iwas making a hundred pieces out of aluminum at a time I had a bunch oflittle aluminum parts I would have a made at the machine shop take them overto the anodized pick him up from there bring him homeand my wife and I would sit at a table in my garage and we'd put them togetherit really it was just a weekend and part time job but here's a thing about whenyou price your products correctly now those products of mine were sellingfor two three four hundred dollars apiecethey took me about 10 15 minutes to assemble but I was doubling triplingquadrupling what it was actually costing me to make them so when I was sellingthem at a few hundred dollars and only selling twenty thirty of them a week Iwas making thousands of dollars I mean literally out the gate.

I started makingfifty a hundred thousand dollars with my first it was one product that I didn'tspun off to two products to raise the revenue a little bit more that went tothree then went to four five six products and then that was it and I didthat for god I think five six seven years by the time I was done with thatsimple product that only cost me a few thousand dollars for that initial run ofa hundred pieces I made close to a million dollars in the life of that oneseries of product that was it that was a five year run and a million dollars overfive years is pretty darn good when you consider.

I was working fulltime in the movie industry and then coming home and just doing that as aside thing instead of watching TV those products they took me two days to makein my garage the original prototypes and then a fewhours to drill out the parts and also go over to the machine shop and talk withthem but once the machine shop had it in her hands they did all the workit was easy it was just me picking up the parts when they were done takingthem to the anodized ER waiting a few days getting the colored parts back andyou've seen anodizing in the previous videos I talked about it but you cangoogle it or look here on YouTube if you're not sure what I mean it's ahardening colouring process that they use onaluminum and some other materials it's actually a ceramic coating which isinteresting in fact aluminum becomes non conductive after you anodized it whichis really interesting because of the coating it's a process that you justdrop the parts off you wait you wait for them to be done you pick them up youtake everything home you buy your screws whatever else you need you keep them inbags on a shelf and you assemble them as you go it's kind of a no-brainer but nowyou can control your destiny with your products and here's the other thing weneed to talk about this.

And I'm not gonna go just pro-america here I'm gonnatalk about America and I'm gonna talk about Europe and I'm even gonna talk tomy Indian friends because I seem to have a lot of like 5% of the people on hereare from India and I know they're coming from croire and that's one of the othervideos that I showed you on how you can use Quora to attract video views so Iknow that about 5% is Indian you guys have the opportunity in India with allyour little manufacturing facilities around you to make anything you wantcheaply and then put them on eBay and sell them worldwide and then us inAmerica forget about what they have available to them we have everythingavailable to us in every state I will be surprised if you guys in any state inthe United States cannot find a machine shop and an anodized er I guarantee youcan find both and if you need screws and all that other stuff you order it onlineit's you know that everything's right there it comes in the mail here.

If Iorder from McMaster Claire in the morning my screws are here within fourhours so you have no excuse in America everything is available to you in aninstant it's really convenient and great for you to grow your business now allyou need is a small space in your apartment or house realistically couldbe a closet I mean my wife you know she didn't mind the garage but as thebusiness started to grow it took over the house so she would complain aboutthat but so I did have to move beyond thehouse pretty quickly but it was easy for years just to stock boxes on the shelvesand ship them after about five years of doing that I was looking for the biggeryou know the bigger revenue and that's when I came up with the product attractstick the last one I was talking about was hobby camp and that's no longeraround so I really didn't mention it but track stick you can go to the websitewhen I started thinking about track stick it was a couple years after 9/11and I knew there was some concern in the world about terrorism so that's whatgave me the idea for track stick it was a product that I designed completelyhands-off when I made track stick I knew I wanted it to be big and there wereonly two ways I could do that one way would have been to invest in equipmentlike you see here but this isn't even really high speed equipment this is justfor me to do small batch runs when we're talking high speed thousands of boardsyou need much bigger pick-and-place machines and I didn't want to get intoall that I'm in California I didn't want the rent the electricity to theemployees all the insurance all the retirement expenses the medical and itgoes on and on and on I was young I was like got 32 years old.

I wanted to stillbe able to have fun travel the world it's what you want to do it's up to youif you want that responsibility I know a lot of guys that just drive off of thatI didn't want that I didn't want the risk of going out of business I didn'twant the risk of not being able to pay the rent those types of things but Icould tell you one thing I learned if you do it you will figure out a way topay the bills no matter how much more they are than the bills you have nowit's an amazing thing I've been saying I'm worried about the rent or themortgages or all the other costs for 20 years now I haven't gone bankrupt yetin fact I've done quite well I may not have you know the huge facilities likeyou see on some of these youtube channels with the manufacturing but mostof them aren't in California where real estate is really expensive and there area few like one of the guys I love is Titan C&C look him up he talks aboutmanufacturing in in America I could not take the pressureof his responsibilities he's actually talked about how he's going bankrupt afew time his credit is bad he's nearly lost his businesses I I would I wouldlose my hair that.

I love it would all turn gray first and that's not what I'mlooking to do it's up to you if you have the money if you have the balls to beable to put up with that go for it I don't have it and I'm not ashamed toadmit that I don't have that kind of risk taking ability I tend to just do itlittle baby steps at the time and as I make profits pay my taxes that's anotherthing when you make money taxes are coming so don't forget that I can't tellyou how many Kickstarter projects I've seen go under not because they didn'tship a product but because of the taxes you and you're an inventor you're abusinessman too this is another thing we will talk about it in the future but notonly are there responsibilities for bills the taxes can be hugeand in California believe me they come knocking they come looking for youso you need to think about that that as you become successful you are a targetfor the taxman so prepare for it and these are the realities of manufacturingand it's really not manufacturing we're talking about in most cases here we'retalking about micro manufacturing we're talking about 100 200 500 pieces at atime we're talking about not big investments for you guys I know theprices if you do all aluminum products if you do injection molded parts you canmany times get in depending on your product to three to five thousanddollars at the most for your first product I think that's a good risktolerance and then as you grow you take on a little more maybe a fifteenthousand dollar product here's another hint so my most successful products andthis has been pretty consistent I have products that have cost meanywhere from $2,000 to make up to a quarter of a millionand I will tell you a little secret my most successful products this is true mymost successful products have cost me anywhere from $3,000 to $10,000 to makenow I have made hundreds of thousands of dollars in mistakes along the way takingthose $3,000 products to market I don't have to make those mistakes anymore butI did in the beginning I mean my track stick technically cost me less than$10,000 to invent but I blew twenty thousand dollars of my own money makingmy first mold that was useless because I wound up hiring people that had nevermade molds before and they were like two thousand miles away and here's thekicker so I blew twenty thousand dollars on that mold and I was so upset about itand I started googling there was a mold maker within walking distance of myhouse in California then.

I wound up hiring and I think he did my first moldit was about 15,000 I told him I went broke for 20 grand could he please makemy next fold for 15 and I promised that I would give him more business which Idid I made about 10 molds with the guy it was just incredible the learningexperience and how much I could have saved if I knew ahead of time but that'slife and that's why we talked about you need to get out there and you need tostart talking to these people and learning the processes so you don't makethe same mistakes that I made in the beginning and if you are learningsomething from these videos I hope you're subscribing you're leavingcomments below you're giving me a thumbs up because I want to help I also want togrow this channel and you know I want to be here for you guys because it'sexciting as you guys are making things and talking to me it really encouragesme to keep going even when I have such a low view countright now thanks to YouTube and its new algorithms but we'll getthat if you just keep on leaving me comments so that I know were punchingthrough the slow views I don't care how many people are viewing this what I careabout is that the ones that are viewing this channel are learning something andimplementing it that's what you need to do because if you just start doing somemicro manufacturing invest a few thousand maybe and I know this in Indiayou guys are probably investing a few hundred the equivalent of a few hundreddollars with your friends and they're making you product so anybody can dothis in America it's gonna cost us a little more because we do have differentlaws and restrictions that don't allow us to be that cheap Europe the same wayEurope's going to be a little more expensive for manufacturing than inAmerica and definitely more than it's gonna cost in Asia but it doesn't matterit depends on what your interests are where you want to make your productswhat your commitment is I am like 100 percent make it in America butunfortunately in California because of all the environmental laws and all theother restrictions most of the time I get prices that are three times the costof what they are to make in Asia so you know if they can't compete you can'tjust say oh okay.

I'll pay three times more that three timesrepresents the entire cost of my product which means that they've raised theprice by three times at the same C shops my retail is going to double my cost tothe distributors is probably going to triple I'm gonna price myself right outof the market so when it comes to manufacturing you'regonna have to pick all different places if you know something's cheap to makearound the corner do it around the corner don't send it to Asia you know doit locally but at the same time if you're good if you have a part that'smachined and let's say it'll cost you 75 dollars to make in the US but China willsell to you for $30 a piece in a quantity of 100 where do you think youhave to go you're going to have to go to Asia toChina and I'm going to mention Titan C&C again because I'm watching his videosthis guy gets me pumped up I mean he's different he's differentjust like I'm different big guy big strong guy I'll put a link down belowand he he's a genius I know a genius when I see one this guy's so smart andthe way he looks he may not even realize how smart he is because he talks aboutmachining like I've never heard it talked about before and I know machinisthe has beautiful shops Titan C&C has shops that you could eat off the floorseverything is pristine when I look at his machines they shine there's no chipsthere's no oil they're beautiful and it's not because he's not using them andthey're brand new this guy loves what he's doing and he's pumping me upbecause I gotta say he's making stuff in the US I'm saying make stuff in the USwe're both doing it and you can too and if you're in Asia make it in Asia ifyou're in Europe make it in Europe make your commitment to the people around youthat's all that's important it's not about nationalism it's aboutmanufacturing because manufacturing is what made America great we all need tomanufacture if we want to see our countries do well so look at Titan andwhat he says the only way that America is going to compete in the world is ifthe machines make the parts quicker we already know that especially inCalifornia labor is expensive and the liability that goes with itit is prohibitive for companies.

it does create a burden for companies so what hesays is you hire less people but you make the machines run quicker you buynewer machines you program so they're fastyou make efficient ways to manufacture so you can get more product out the doornow I should listen to this advice because the stuff that I run on thesemachines many times gets back ordered by days by weeks it's frustrating for mebecause I can never predict the amount of sales that I'm going to get and nomatter what I put on the Shelf it seems to sell out so you can actually and thisis a weird thing about business even though my profits on purpose are high Ican actually put myself out of business by making too much product yes I knowthat people are going to buy it but at what cost to me in terms of stocking iton the shelves Titan talked about this too we're a company said we need to stopour orders but he kept going and these were expensive millions of dollars inparts it was actually a hundred million dollar contract you can look at hisvideo he just said you know what they're gonna come back and they're gonna ordermore so I'll just start keep making them for weeks maybe months he went on and hemade all these parts they never came back for them so when you do this yougot to watch how many you put on yourself manufacturing is a game youjuggle how many do I make versus how many I think are going to sell not howmany are actually selling because remember there's a delay after orderparts from Asia I order parts from down the street they all take time to come inthen there's processes like anodizing painting whatever processes you add tothat they all take time and god forbid one of those manufacturers get busybecause then the time that you normally get them in becomes longer so when itcomes to manufacturing start thinking of a plan because that's how you're gonnamake your money you.

If you need many business blogs like this then you can visit VISHLOGIC BUSINESS.

#business #business guide #bussiness news #vishlogic

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imsickoftheseshadows · 5 years

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living situations

Where do you live?

The question should have been simple, but it wasn’t. It had become convoluted over the course of my existence, for I did not dwell, nor live in a specified setting. I inhabited a vacant space, fifteen miles northeast of Malibu, in a suburban locale that did not enliven me. I did not live in Sunset Hills. I simply kept a bed, in a home that was not mine, for when I felt too overwhelmed by my urban sentience. Today was one of those days.

Like the front of the house, the walls inside were sprayed banana cream. The popcorn ceilings of the seventies had been smoothed over and painted Swiss coffee, finished in ivory wood coving -- The variations of off-white were unintentional, as was the soot-speckled carpet beneath my feet, all selected in one rushed trip to Home Depot.

There were little connections to the outside world in this compound -- Solely because the modem and phone lines had been disconnected, and the cellular service was spotty at best. I craved this isolation, but on my own terms.

I paced around the house, as restless as I had been when I arrived with my mother, five years earlier. The choice had been my own: I sensed impending freedom from a strict upbringing, and a permanent escape from my father’s regime.

A month to the day before moving ninety minutes north of my hometown, I was gifted a taupe Honda Civic. My early attempts to venture further than Fullerton were thwarted -- I had edged toward the onramp of the Interstate 5, only to surrender to the illumination of my dashboard’s gold and crimson lights. The transmission was faulty, and the engine was weak. In Sunset Hills, I became accustomed to ignoring the glow of the indicators signaling imminent disaster.

Alas, an accident would total that car less than six months later. However, with that tragedy came a more reliable Civic, this time a vivid cochineal, which further enabled my newfound independence.

Where do you live?

My name had always been secondary, or tertiary, to this information. Others would ask this question within moments of meeting me, aware that my answer defined whether they would ever see me outside of our chance encounter. The query would roll off of their tongue; a natural precedent for finding a friend or mate.

I knew that once my answer was deemed a satisfactory radius from their home, the conversation could proceed.

With one-hundred and forty thousand miles on my car, one could state that I was a seasoned driver. Before I moved to Los Angeles last year, I would, at random, leave for Santa Barbara on a Saturday morning, only to veer onto the 154-highway toward San Luis Obispo in the afternoon. I presented myself as a woman of no set address, certain to never fully discuss my living situation. Geographically, I was to be perceived as nomadic. They looked past me, as though not holding a lease in Los Angeles was a detrimental quality; a trait appraised as fatally flawed.

The beginning of my response remained vague: I’m from Southern California -- Raised in Fullerton. I paused at this juncture. I’ve survived Sunset Hills for four years, though spend most of the time in the city. I spoke with effortless certitude, as though I had convinced myself that distance was nothing more than a slight inconvenience; like a lover who loved inconsistently, or a friend who smoked without rolling down the windows.

At that time, I had felt isolated by my distance from Los Angeles, yet enjoyed my broad scope of experiences with the treasures of Ventura County, and Central California, and, of course, Echo Park. I took great pleasure in painting my face in Topanga, whilst driving to Santa Monica to meet someone new, then climbing up the one-oh-one highway to salute a past love in Agoura Hills.

My liaison with lengthy excursions ended in a lasting affair: a budding romance with a man from across the Atlantic, who had permanently settled across the street from Los Angeles’ most iconic cemetery.

I moved to his home in Hollywood at the close of my twenty-second year, attaining the status of living in the city, as I had yearned for so badly. The happiness it brought me was fleeting -- Los Angeles did not return my idealized ardor. I grew weary, as I had with Sunset Hills, though this time, I sensed entrapment. There was traffic, a lack of parking, and glowering police officers. The neighbors drank too much and sang too loud, spilling gin along the walkway; kicking cigarette butts beneath the damask rose planters. A neighboring home, built in the golden age of cinema, collapsed to the earth at the hands of real estate investors -- One-hundred silver apartments were to be erected in its place.

Moreover, I had letters addressed to me, and pay stubs that enforced my unforeseen adulthood. It was no longer twenty thousand miles per year, up the coast of California, away from the small anxieties that plagued my otherwise resolute demeanor. It was now only a fourteen mile roundtrip commute to and from work, with weekends spent in unimpressive cafes, clutching a notebook devoid of words, inspiration, and experiences.

Today, nearly one year later, I departed again for Sunset Hills.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunset Hills had a reputation for being a sleepy town, until a mass shooting at a bar left the suburb tinged with despair, loss, and confusion. It had returned to its quiet state, though the tainted air of tragedy never quite dissipated. The devastation had occurred shortly after I had moved to Hollywood, which made it all the more surreal to return.

It had once represented an escape from reality, with its uniform picket fences, topping the safest cities in the United States list yearly -- I had adored Sunset Hills, even as I attempted to leave it in my twenties.

I woke up exhausted, though I had slept away the wan afternoon, as uncharacteristically colorless as my thoughts had become. It was half past eight, and I hadn’t left my bedroom since I had arrived, nearly twelve hours before. I needed to go outside.

In Sunset Hills, the one reminiscence I held dearly were my nightly walks -- I remained enamored and fascinated by the suburbs, with its perfect hedges, and cul-de-sacs, and silky evenings.

I wandered into the night, admiring the stars coalescing into rivulets of light. The absence of street lamps and cars left the foreground otherwise encapsulated in darkness, though the roads facing furthest east remained illuminated by distant cars, and unnamed motorways.

It was unseasonably cool for April -- Even in a coat, I sensed goosebumps on my arms, and reconsidered my decision to embark on this walk. It’s necessary, I began. It’s therapeutic.

I scrutinized the houses and vegetation against the asphalt. The viridescent blades of grass that filled all front yards were false, though the pristine landscaping held some reality in its flowers. The grass that protruded from the cracks of the sidewalk was kaleidoscopic with rock salt, and the remaining blades, with crystals of dew, were half-trampled. All of the dandelions I could recall had been wished upon, with only their stems littering the earth.

I turned the corner, acknowledging that the streets were named after English philosophers and artists. But what is the significance of Dryden or Galsworthy, in this achromatic setting? Perhaps it was to invoke the spirit of creativity unto the inhabitants, or to remind us that the Earth existed intelligently before we did.

The ennui of marriage appeared in the form of a sole sports car in the garage, and the four door sedan in the driveway, with tinted back windows. The family car, the fun car -- I thought of my father’s fun car, which was a 1990′s Mercedes SL. My mother knew she was not the sole female passenger, as the scuffs of foreign heels had marred the seats.

Silhouettes of anonymity shaded the bay windows of several houses I walked past -- Husband and wife, or father and daughter. They ate expressionlessly, without looking at each other, while the glow of the television, and its thunderous bass, substituted dialogue for noise this evening. My eyes dropped to the sidewalk, with the names of lovers scrawled into the cement. When is the pinnacle of love? When is its descent? I envisaged my darling, at our home in the city, dining alone. I wondered if he thought of me with the same tenderness as he did when we first met, and if he would have etched our names into the bark of a tree, or penned an inscription onto his beating heart.

I let my mind wander -- Twenty-thousand miles per year, up the Californian coast. But what I had been running from, and where had I been going?

The suburban milieu set my thoughts aflame, just as Hollywood had devoured my fervor for life. Both settings inflicted reality unto me, but far too late. I wanted to run, desperately -- But, shackled by fate, I had nowhere left to go.

#creative writing #thoughts #memories #suburbia #city

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writersshock-deactivated · 6 years

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Nobody ever sends these asks so imma do ‘em all.

lets get personal.

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

Um, right now? I really don’t know... Probably Panic! at the Disco’s new Pray for the Wicked album. Eh,,, Dancing’s Not A Crime, Say Amen, High Hopes, Old Fashioned, and then a couple older one’s, maybe Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time and Miss Jackson.

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Jeremy. My crush from summer camp. Just to see him again instead of having to wait 10 months (that is if I can afford it when the time comes -- otherwise I may never see him again). So not exactly ‘meeting’, but.... Celebrity-wise, I don’t know. Perhaps Kamala Harris, a California politician.

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

“DNA is often too small to obtain reliable results.” (my forensic textbook)

4: What do you think about most?

I dunno... stuff.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

[sleepy face emoji]

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

Usually underwear... it really depends whether or not I’m wearing a shirt.

7: What’s your strangest talent?

I don’t know... I can rap, which isn’t strange per say but it’s weird to me.

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

Girls are freaking amazing; Boys are freaking amazing too.

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Yes, 2. The negative anon and the positive anon.

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

Last night, with my 1 year old sister, to Nirvana.

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

I’m afraid of fire. Like, touching fire or using an oven or working with boiling water.

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

No, I have never stuck a foreign object up my nose.

13: What’s your religion?

Atheist, but I have a lot of opinions about philosophy and faith.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Going inside. Or ‘playing’ with my brother.

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind! I love photography! Not photogenic at all though.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

Well my favorite band song of all time is Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana, but they’re not my favorite band. I’d have to say Twenty One Pilots or Panic! at the Disco.

17: What was the last lie you told?

‘No, I have never stuck a foreign object up my nose.’

18: Do you believe in karma?

Not as a Universal phenomena. But yeah, what goes around comes around.

19: What does your URL mean?

Um, ‘writersblock’ was taken. Shocking, right? My main, ‘almondivory’ is more interesting. It’s for my best friend Amber and me, Ian. And her shade of foundation is almond. And mine is ivory. So it all worked out.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

Greatest weakaness is probably laziness. Greatest strength? Passion.

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

Olivia Wilde, Jennifer Lawrence, Rihanna, Beyonce, Kristen Stewart, Penelope Cruz, and Michelle Pfeiffer are all contenders. Yeah, Tyler Joseph and Brendon Urie too.

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

Not since I was little.

23: How do you vent your anger?

Sulk. Listen to soft emo music.

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

Mental disorders.

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Online.

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

Not yet.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

I HATE nails on a chalkboard.

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

‘What if I was rich’? Or ‘what if i was hot’? Or, perhaps, ‘what if i was straight?’

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

No. And I think there’s a possibility of some form of life from elsewhere in the universe, but not mainstream aliens.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Saydon. My neighbor in class. He’s looking at me strangely now. On the left, a cheap “wall” (room divisor).

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

Not much. A hint of coffee.

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

I don’t know... most recently, my brother’s bathroom. It’s supposed to be ‘ours’ but I can’t stand it.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

EAST COAST

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

Well, my biological sex is female, even though I am nonbinary. So I’ll go with a male singer (also because there are too many hot girls to choose from) ... Shawn Mendes. Or Tyler Joseph or Brendon Urie.

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

This is to complicated. It’s not that I don’t have opinions (i have many) but when i talk about this I talk for almost 2 hours and 40 minutes. Yes, I’ve been timed.

36: Define Art.

Creative expression.

37: Do you believe in luck?

Not really? I’m unsure what this means exactly.

38: What’s the weather like right now?

I’m in class, but when I got here it was clear and a little damp.

39: What time is it?

10:41am Tuesday October 30th

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

No. Too young (14). But yes. I was in a bad car crash summer 2017.

41: What was the last book you read?

Textbook: for my forensic anthropology class. Otherwise: Summer Reading by Hilma Wolitzer

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Yes!

43: Do you have any nicknames?

By birth name is Fiona. Only one person in the world is allowed to call me Fifi. Otherwise, Ian, Ean, E.K, and E.L. (@scholarlypidgeot)

44: What was the last film you saw?

Not sure if it was Ocean’s 8 or Dangerous Minds.

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

Physical? Not sure.

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

Yeah, probably, but not for long. I raised caterpillars into butterflies onse.

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

No, I said, like a liar.

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

Demi-ace.

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

Yes. So many.

50: Do you believe in magic?

Not in the way you’re asking.

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

No, unfortunately. I forgive too easily and I keep going back to the same abusive friendship.

52: What is your astrological sign?

Virgo, I believe. Sept. 16.

53: Do you save money or spend it?

If it’s my own, save up. Somebody’s else? Spend.

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

2 coffees and a brownie. I’m healthy.

55: Love or lust?

Love.

56: In a relationship?

No.

57: How many relationships have you had?

1 (but liked 3 people).

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

Yes.

59: Where were you yesterday?

Home.

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

Yes. A couple of the flowers on my bag are pinkish-purple. My Ziploc bags have blue and pink strips. My jacket is galaxy-patterned and has a little pink in it. Otherwise, no.

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

Yes. Black with white stars, constellations, and cresecent moons. Mid-calf. Warm.

62: What’s your favourite animal?

Dolphin, elephant, owl, cat, or dog.

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

I ... don’t have one.

64: Where is your best friend?

About an hour away. She moved at the beginning of the month (had lived literally right across the road, like we could whisper to each other from each other’s yards.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

@thethew @gottaenjoythelittlethingzz @blacktwittercomedy @badjokesbyjeff @writersupportgroup

66: What is your heritage?

English, Scottish, Polish, German. I am a white boi/girl.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

Sleeping, oddly.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

Never thought about it.

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

It ... depends on your definition? Think it’s pretty safe to say no.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

No.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Save the fucking dog!

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) Yes.

b) I honestly have no idea. Probably contact all my friends from summer camp and tell them how much I love them and the camp. And find Jeremy, my summer camp crush, and tell him that I liked him.

c) Yes.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Why?! I’d have to say trust. To not be trusted would drive me insane. And not being able to trust anyone would be awful. But love... I mean, I’d be terribly sad without it. :(

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Donald MacGillavry by Silly Wizard.

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

8672 (home)

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Trust, support, communication, and understanding.

77: How can I win your heart?

Stab me and remove it in a battle. Other than that? Love me.... <3

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

YES

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

No idea at all.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

8 or 9 Women’s (US)

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

“Age 117 years, 4 months, and 23 days -- she was happy.”

82: What is your favourite word?

Absolutely no idea. Maybe ‘l’eau’?

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

Red

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

“?”

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

Homemade Dynamite- REMIX

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

Bright yellow - Indigo is where they all are.

87: What is your current desktop picture?

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

I thought about this for a while. Nobody. Because everybody I hate, I’d want them to finally understand why I hate them rather than just exploding. They shouldn’t get to go that easy.

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

What’s the worst lie you ever told?

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

Scream, throw my pillows at them, knock them all over, lock them in my bedroom, and sleep somewhere else.

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Well it was okra. Absolutely. No idea what power that gives me? The power to cook delicious food with little effort would be cool.

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

Dancing with Annie in 2015.

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

This thing ... I ... watched. On the internet.

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

Not into sex. I’m gonna interpret this as ‘making out with’. Hmm... maybe Halsey? Or Brendon Urie (assuming I was instantly a lot older). <3

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

Scotland.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

Not yet. My brother’s been close several times. Best friend’s cousin is in jail and her dad almost was (cousin for drug offenses and sexually harassing us, dad for verbally and physically abusing her).

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

Yes. I remember twice right now. Once when I was 7 or 8 in San Francisco. Once when I was 10 or 11 after eating really greasy Chinese food.

98: Ever been on a plane?

Yes. Maybe about 10-15 times?

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

“YEET”.

No, seriously, probably, “Right now everybody in the world knows who I am. And that terrifies me. Also, I’m in a library so I have to be quiet. Climate change is real.”

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alwaysmercy · 3 years

Text

Then and Now....Part II

One of the reasons I love Kenya, January 2020

If you missed the first part of this blog, simply scroll down and read it.

.....Obviously, since you are reading this, I survived the flight, even catching a few hours of sleep. I landed in Doha around 5:30 PM the next day (eleven hours ahead of California time). I had been promised a free hotel room by Qatar Airlines since my layover was over eight hours long, one of their perks! I hoped this was true-- I had my doubts given my experience on this flight. I found an information counter, handed the young man on duty my reservation confirmation from Qatar airlines. “Yes, madam, you are entitled to a hotel”, he assured me. He made a phone call to confirm my reservation and arrange for a shuttle. “Oh,” I replied, “I thought I was staying at the airport hotel.” “No, madam, your hotel is in the city center,” he said. He directed me to immigration and customs, a necessary step since I was exiting the airport. Thankfully, the Doha airport, built to be a hub for worldwide international travel, is extremely efficient and organized. (They guarantee that you will make your flight even if the connecting time is only 45 minutes. What they don’t tell you is that this may require running!)

Following the signs to immigration, I stepped into the que of hundreds of people waiting to be processed. I watched as one young man got detained and three agents were called over to check his documents—or lack of them. The hours of my layover were dwindling and wondered if it was worth all of this trouble to go to a hotel for a few hours. Fortunately, things moved rather quickly and soon it was my turn. The immigration agent stamped my passport and directed to a waiting room where he assured me that someone would appear to take me to the hotel via a shuttle. At least the airport was efficient, sparkling clean and cool.

Twenty minutes later, I saw a man holding up a sign with the name of my hotel and I left with him to board the shuttle. Turned out my “shuttle” was a car driven by the hotel manager and I was the only passenger. We made the thirty-minute trip to the designated hotel. City lights reflected off buildings and the nearby Persian Gulf. It was dark out, but there were people walking at 8:30 P.M. “It is safe for a woman to walk alone at night?” I asked. “Yes, the crime rate is very low here.” He assured me. Still, I was a little skittish to venture out for a nighttime walk alone, and by the time I’d gotten through immigration, waited for the shuttle and took the thirty- minute drive to the city where the hotel was, I had only had 2 ½ hours before I had to return to the airport for my middle of the night flight. I checked into my hotel room and opted for a little yoga, a quick email to Dennis, a hot shower, a change of clothes and lying down flat on cool clean sheets—a nice change from the cramped seat of the airplane. In no time at all, the concierge called informing me that my shuttle back to the airport would leave in forty-five minutes and to be downstairs before 11 P.M.

On the drive back to the airport I chatted with my driver, the same hotel manager. He was from Egypt, working in Qatar for the past nine years. I wondered why I had to return to the airport so early since my flight to Kenya wasn’t until 1:45 A.M. “How many flights could there be in the middle of the night?” I wondered. Turns out, a lot of flights! I entered the airport doors and braced myself. Inside, it was teeming with people. Burgundy ropes cordoned hundreds of people into snake-like lines, trying to create a false sense of being royalty instead of cattle being led to slaughter. I felt my anxiety and my irritation begin to rise like bile. Had I been traveling with someone I would have voiced my complaints. “Can you believe this line?” “Was it really worth it to go to the hotel?” “What if I miss my flight?” “blah, blah, blah”. But I was alone. There was no one to hear me, so I simply took a deep breath, prayed for patience and dealt with the inconveniences of traveling.

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I was up for this trip to Africa. Only five months earlier, my dear mama had died, and my confidence was sorely shaken. I felt unmoored, as if I’d lost my place in the world and the sense of who I was. The day-to-day responsibilities that came with life itself and with the vocation of deaconess were wearing me down. I loved the people I serve. I loved my church, Holy Cross. But everything took on a pallor. I wanted to care, but I found that most of the time, I simply couldn’t care about much. I simply didn’t have the energy. In this flattened state of being, I hemmed and hawed about keeping the commitment to travel to Kenya that I’d made eight months earlier. However, I sensed that a change of scenery might be helpful. Kenya was my second home after all. There were people there who loved me, and while I would have responsibilities there, they weren’t the same as the ones I had at home. This is how I found myself at the Doha airport standing in a seemingly endless stream of people from all over the world in the middle of the night. I took a deep breath, prayed the Kyrie, “Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy,” repositioned my backpack, relaxed and smiled.

Within forty-five minutes, I was through security. I checked the departure board for my next flight, found the gate, then walked around the airport looking for a place to sit down. Qatar, being a Muslim country is also a dry country. Dry as in a sandy desert landscape, but also dry as in very little alcohol. My driver had told me that the only things taxed in Qatar are alcohol and tobacco-- a “Sin Tax” reflecting the Muslim rule of the country. I settled on a little café, sat at a counter next to a guy who I noticed was drinking a beer. I ordered a $12 Heineken—big sinner that I am. The guy was from Sweden. He told me he worked with adults with Down Syndrome and Asperger’s. He was currently taking a six- month sabbatical to travel alone. He was on his way to Vietnam. To end his trip, he was going to Spain to walk the Camino Frances. Having walked the Camino Frances in 2014 and the Camino Del Mar in 2015, we had lots to talk about. I got so engrossed in my conversation that by the time I got to my gate for my flight to Kenya they were already boarding!

Six hours later around 8 A.M. I looked out the window as the plane taxied down the runway at the Jomo Kenyatta airport in Nairobi. The sun was shining through the clouds on the Acacia trees, the grass was thin but mostly green. This was a landscape I knew. I realized I’d been homesick for Kenya all along, and now I was home.

Good friends, Linder and me 2020

Friends since 2006. Mary, Pamela and Agnes

Dancing/jumping in Pokot--Northern Kenya. The Kenyans think I’m hilarious.

Adornment by my Pokot Deaconess Sisters 2020

Always Mercy,

Pamela

If you would like to make a donation towards the ongoing mercy work and/or the hospice house in Kenya, there are two ways to do so:

By check made out to Holy Cross Lutheran Church,

earmarked in the memo “for Kenya”

Mailed to: Deaconess Pamela Boehle-Silva

Holy Cross Lutheran Church

4701 Grove St.

Rocklin, CA 95677

Online donation to: Curatio Mundi. https://www.curatiomundi.org

They accept PayPal, credit cards and Venmo. Please note whether it is for “Kenya relief” or the “Kenya hospice”, by sending them an email when you donate.

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teddy-bear-surprise · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4: Filling in The Blanks

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 Part 1 || Chapter 7 Part 2 || Chapter 8 || Almost The End || Chapter 9 ||

WARNING: Mentions of violence, blood, police, alcohol, stalking, car crash (not the main character), and bondage (non-sexual).

Author’s Note: This is an alternate universe situation set around the time of seasons 13 and 14 but I kept Hotch and Prentiss because they're some of my favorite characters. This fic does not follow cannon occurrences so please keep this in mind.

Ophelia sat on her couch moping over Cat's disappearance. It had been two days since Cat left. She wouldn't pick up her phone, which Ophelia did not know was broken, and Ophelia thought she was ignoring her. In reality, however, Cat was trying to reach Ophelia by payphone but could not remember her number. Barely ten minutes had passed since ten in the morning, and Ophelia was already nursing her third beer of the day. Her motivation to do anything, to be anything, had completely disappeared.

She lazily clicked through the channels before settling on the news. Now, Ophelia was not one to regularly check the news, but this station had a particularly handsome reporter that she loved to watch. In her mind, he was the only viable man left in Los Angeles. Her aptitude for stalking and predating did not end with her victims and was a driving force in all aspects of her life. According to her standards, he checked out: a clean digital history, a clean social presence, good financials, no unhappy exes, and most importantly he was single.

Today, however, Ophelia was less than pleased with what he had to say. "The FBI has landed here, in Los Angeles, this morning to investigate the mysterious murders of five young and famous men. They are working in conjunction with the LAPD and are searching for answers. More on this after the break–"

She rolled her eyes and crossed him off of her mental list of "viable LA men" which now held a whopping zero names. Her hand reached for the remote and clicked off onto another channel, hoping for something a bit more light-hearted.

On The Jet Earlier That Day

The BAU's luxurious, white jet had taken off only moments earlier and was flying quickly from Quantico to Los Angeles. Hotch looked at his team, all eagerly waiting for his instruction, before addressing them, "We're dealing with a very experienced killer here and they might even have a partner based on the amount of physical strength that it would take to restrain men of this size. The M.O. has been consistent since the very first case and there were no trials and no errors, meaning that we found no similar attacks in the Los Angeles area that occurred before these. They started attacking right off the bat and we need to find out why. Garcia will fill you in on the details."

The screen above Hotch's head was now occupied by a perky blonde, "Garcia here! Ready to rock and roll? Yeah? No? Okay, tough crowd. So, first up we have Rick Garza, twenty-eight years old and living in Glendale. He's not the most famous actor, but he is definitely on Hollywood's radar... should I say 'was'? Not important... Last year Mr. Garza started working in sideline films like Danika's Delight–a great movie by the way–and worked his way up to major ones like Begum's Trial which was supposed to finish filming next month. He doesn't have many enemies in the industry, a pretty well-liked guy, for the most part. He did have some disputes with the financial department on set, but that happens all the time so I don't think it was a contributing factor. Uhhhh... his wife, Maci Garza, said she was out shopping with friends but when she came home and went to her room to put her new, shiny things away, she found Rick like this–"

A photo of Rick flashed onto everyone's screens. He was hogtied with his legs and hands tied together behind his back, an apple occupying his mouth, and big bloody letters covering his back that read 'suck on this, you bastard'. Rick's body was laid on its stomach, so his hands and feet were in the air, and based on the images, he had been positioned to face the door, almost like he was waiting for someone to walk in.

"Yeesh, if I were to die like that, I don't think I would want to have been born at all," Rossi tried to lighten the mood with his snarky comment and his jokester reputation never disappointed.

Garcia rolled her eyes at Rossi and continued, "Agreed, not the best way to go out. Moving on to vic number two, we have Simon Boyd, thirty-two, and also living in Glendale. He was a very, very popular chef, you all might know his restaurant, 'Boyd & Boyd'. It opened up ten years ago and has gotten an impressive three Micheline stars. According to co-workers, he's a 'nice guy with the worst anger-issues in all of LA', that is a direct quote, by the way. Kind of contradictory, kind of confusing, didn't help me that much."

"So, I did a little deep-dive into his online presence, he seems pretty clean, but looking into his wife's life is where it gets weird. Back in the day, Daniela had a massive online presence, like massive. There was not a day where she did not post about her friends or life updates. But about three years ago she was living in a pretty bad part of town and then she met Simon. After that, she stopped working, stopped going out, stopped posting, all that jazz. She essentially disappeared from the face of the earth and only went out when there were events for Simon's restaurant. Kind of sketchy if you ask me. Also, they got married like two months after meeting and he immediately put all of her assets in his name. Basically, he owned her."

Garcia took a moment to find the rest of her notes, "Daniela was actually on their house property when Simon was killed. She was in their backyard, swimming, and when she went back inside he was dead. So as Hotch said, very experienced killers. Simon also left almost nothing to Daniela so take that as you will. As for the M.O., it looks pretty standard, the same as with Garza."

Garcia pressed a few buttons and some photos of Boyd's crime scene appeared on their tablets. This time, it was Emily who spoke up, "Garcia, you said that Daniela didn't get a lot from Simon in his will, so who got everything?"

"I am so glad you asked, Emily!" Garcia bore a wide smile, "All of Simon's assets went to an Eric Matteo Bowes, but the problem is, there is no Eric Matteo Bowes. He doesn't exist. And the only one that does, lives in Puerto Rico and has never been in the same state as Simon. So basically he left his entire life to a mystery man."

"Why would he do that? Is it possible that it's some kind of pseudonym? Maybe it means something else?" Replied Emily with a confused expression.

"Already there, my love. I called Boyd's lawyer and he said that while he could not give specific details, he did confirm that Bowes does not exist. Yet another mystery to solve, we just have to see if this is related to Boyd's death or not."

They went on like this for the next hour, bouncing around ideas and debating if certain occurrences had any significance in the cases. Once all of the cases had been discussed, Reid raised his hand to speak, still resembling the quiet kid that Ophelia knew, "Guys, I think the unsub is female. Look at the amount of rage," he pointed to the photos of the men's' slit throats, "this is a very up-close kill and it indicates that there may be a personal motive too. That's something we see a lot in female serial killers, it tends to stem from trauma that they feel they cannot let go of. And it's definitely a duo, two of the victims were athletes, indicating that at least two unsubs would be needed to restrain them, especially to get them on top of the bed after. But not more than two, bigger killing teams are more prone to mistakes and disorganization, I'm not seeing any of that here. My guess, is that these two bonded over their hatred of men, as indicated by the message written on the victims' backs, and somewhere along the line they decided to put their message out there through violence. Garcia, we need to start looking into females living in the greater LA area who have filed reports for domestic abuse against males within the past five years, cross-reference that with females whose mothers were either missing, dead, or not involved."

"Give me one second, pretty boy." Garcia's painted nails clacked loudly on her keyboard and they all watched as she typed at an alarming speed with her pen still in her hand.

"Anndddd done! We have seventeen lovely ladies here, one of them passed away a week ago and three have recently moved to other California cities. So we're down to thirteen now. Up first we have Miss Daniella Olson, twenty-three, and worked as a sales clerk for Knight's Knives up until two months ago... hmmm. Possible unsub? Oh wait, she stopped working at Knight's because she sustained debilitating injuries from a car crash. That's unfortunate. Up next is Kiya Driscoll, thirty years old and living in eastern LA. Geographically she doesn't look like a match, but let me see what comes up when I dig a little deeper."

After less than a minute, Garcia had managed to take a deep look into Kiya's life and left no stone unturned. "She's squeaky clean, moving on. Belle Jones, twenty-five and also in the hospital. Hmmm... change of plans, my lovelies, I will get back to you when I have a list of possible unsubs."

They discussed the case while Garcia looked into each of the girls' backgrounds.

Hotch's deep voice suddenly boomed through the jet, "These unsubs are experienced, they have likely experimented in other states, which would explain how their kills were so clean right off the bat. The only problem is that when I looked into it, there were no similar cases except for one case in Las Vegas from nineteen-ninety-nine. There was only one suspect, Darla Sutton, but there was never enough evidence to convict her. Our current case also profiled that we would be dealing with a team of young killers, Darla is already in her late sixties. We could be dealing with copycats or even an apprentice of some kind. Garcia, can you change the search to include anyone who has ever been affiliated with Darla Sutton?"

"Yes, Sir, already ahead of you!" Chirped Garcia. "Allow me to introduce you to Miss Ophelia Sutton, Darla's daughter. Thirty-seven years old and she has not worked in four years, but lemme tell you, this girl is rich. Like, buy a house on the moon rich. She graduated from MIT when she was seventeen and went straight into huge engineering companies like Z-Tech and Cormac & Robles, she was able to reach the top by the time she was twenty-one and she's made enough money to sustain several families for at least fifty yea–"

Spencer's eyes widened in shock and he completely zoned out as Garcia droned on. How was it possible that the girl he knew so well as a child was now their prime suspect? She had been his best friend, stuck with him through thick and thin, yet here he was staring at a photo of her and not recognizing her in the slightest. He could see the evil in her eyes, but it had not been there when they were friends. Back then, he saw everything good in the world swimming in her smile, that was all gone now. He blamed himself for this, he did not fight hard enough for Ophelia's friendship, if he had, they might not be in this position.

Of course, it was not Ophelia's fault that Garcia had now found her, but rather Cat's. Cat had gotten a bit lazy while designing their M.O. and copied Darla's almost to the tee because she thought it made the most sense. This was, however, a detail that Cat never disclosed to Ophelia. It was the reason why she had insisted so adamantly that Ophelia had to leave, why she had been so worried that Spencer would catch them both. If anything happened to Ophelia, it would all be because of her mistake. While Cat did modify a few things, it clearly was not enough to keep the BAU from noticing the connection. Maybe prison really had damaged Cat's once perfect abilities, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

Spencer drew his eyes away from the screen and tried to hide his feelings of disappointment, but JJ always seemed to notice. She whispered into Spencer's ear, "Hey, Spence, what's wrong?"

He jumped, frightened by the nickname she used. She was the only one besides Ophelia that ever called him Spence, "Oh, it's nothing JJ, I just got worried for a moment, I thought I had forgotten to call the institution where my mom is staying to ask if I could visit her after the case. Nothing serious."

"Whatever you say, Spence, I'm always here to talk." JJ looked at Spencer worriedly and tried to take his explanation at face value, but she could tell that he was still hiding something, especially since he never forgets anything.

They wrapped up their briefing and Spencer remained quiet, worried about what to do. He was not close with Ophelia anymore, they had not spoken in over two decades, but a part of him wondered if he should excuse himself from the case. Eventually, he decided to stay on the case and not say anything to Hotch because it was just an old friendship. Ophelia did not have an eidetic memory like him and probably would not even remember him. Spencer found solace in this thought, essentially ignoring that he would have to arrest his only childhood friend.

When they landed in Los Angeles, Spencer thought of how ironic his situation was. He hoped that Ophelia's name coming up was just a false alarm, that they had pinned the case on the wrong unsub. But so far, all of the signs were pointing to her and they would definitely need her to cooperate to find her partner.

On their way to LAPD's headquarters, Spencer fidgeted with his hands, still debating telling Hotch about his relationship with Ophelia. He figured that it could go one of two ways: Hotch would kick him off of the case and berate him for not speaking up sooner, or he would be used as bait to extract an emotional response from Ophelia, that is if she remembered him at all. When they got to the station though, Spencer was immediately cut off by the Chief who insisted that he needed to give them a thirty-minute guided tour of the station.

He walked at an excruciatingly slow pace, slowed even further by his co-workers stopping them every few steps to ask about the case. They were shown the kitchen, the bathrooms, his office, the garage, and literally every room except for the one where they were supposed to set up. By the time that the tour was over, there was not even enough time for Reid to have a quick talk with Hotch. They were now twenty minutes behind schedule and had to grab everything from the cars and rush to set up their space. Prentiss and Reid worked together to set up the computers, connecting them to Garcia, while Rossi worked on printing and pinning physical copies of the crime scene reports and photos. Hotch and JJ were running between the cars and the conference room trying to get everyone's belongings inside as quickly as possible since it was beginning to rain and they would be unable to get their stuff out later without wetting it.

As soon as everyone was settled in, they jumped straight into working on their game plan, plotting how they would approach Ophelia. They figured that their best bet was to send one team to search the apartment, and another to search the house. Rossi, JJ, and Reid were being sent to the house, whereas Hotch and Prentiss were going to check the apartment. It was a solid plan and only took a few calls to execute. They had just arrived in LA and they were already on the verge of a breakthrough. It all seemed to be moving so quickly, too easily, and Spencer felt that they were being drawn into a trap of some kind. But since they were employing the help of a S.W.A.T. team, he figured that there was not much to worry about and carried along with the plan. In two hours Ophelia Sutton would no longer be a free woman, and she was not going to go down easily.

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stone-man-warrior · 3 years

Text

December 3, 2020: 4:56 pm:

This from earlier today while using my suspended Twitter account, which always generates some kind of local pertinent response and/or other response in coded Tweets from major newsmedia on Twitter in the news stories, coded:

================================

https://twitter.com/BorisJohnson/status/1334551466699350016

Winter plan...Cold, wet, all the talk is of cold and wet for leading into discussions about Corona (Crown) Virus (add media, then, COVID).

Some people on a live feed are reminded ahead of time to refrain from Hot, Warm, Flaming ideas for the presentation with the "winter plan" lead in.

My question would look and sound like this one:

"Boris, elementary science and physics class taught me that a small flame uses oxygen present in the surrounding air, when added to heat and fuel, to make a small flame, so, I am wondering what you have done to stop the spread of the corona virus by using the elementary physics as a means of drawing in the contaminated air, so the flame could burn away the impurities and germs as it draws in the oxygen it needs to burn the fuel once the heat is applied?"

===========================

5:21 pm:

I am trying to reach out to US national security personnel for some assistance to stop mass murdering that is commanded with marching orders that are delivered via Twitter “Verified Accounts” of major news networks and other entertainment oriented sources, such as the promotional email I often refer to here on this account.

I started out today with doing what I always do, scan the Twitter news feed to find where terror commands are being presented, and then trying to read the coded messages within them. Today there was a video of a gal who made a dress of discarded mango’s. I watched it, and moved on. Then, later, I looked in the email and found a very tiny connection to the mango dress in a Taylor guitar ad from Zzounds Music, which has proven to be a regular source for the terror communications. Unfortunately, I am unable to arrive at definitive end results, only a lot of parts to a bigger puzzle than i am able to decipher. Those US national Security folks I need to reach could take these parts that I find, and see that there is definitely hidden communication within them. I often have other personal experience that helps to explain what the terror comm is about, and today I am seeing that kind of thing with respect to knowledge of attack at 29 Palms US Military Base where I witnessed many horrible things happen in around 1982 or so. These items below make a reference to that attack at 29 Palms in a very distant and seemingly associated way. The comm is very subtle, multi faceted, archaic, abstract, has a lot of parts to it. These are the items I had available to make connection to the 29 Palms terror comm today.

nsa, this is for you.

Please understand my frustration resultant of being held captive in my home for many years with no help.

This is a email from Zzounds with Taylor Guitars featured.

These are the featured Taylor Guitars:

That 362cenV 12 Fret is of interest, others may also be, I only am concerned about that one for this progression of my day reading terror comm:

Here, I started to use the Google Gmail the same kind of way that I use the suspended Twitter account, just a place to write stuff down. I did not send the email, but as I wrote, it became clear that others are watching me do the writing. They interfere as I write, change the font style, erase the contents of the memory of my computer so that when I past something, it just puts a space. I have no letter n on my keyboard, it’s broken, so, when I need an n, I have to go find one, copy it, and then paste it there. It’s a hassle. The terror bastards at Centurylink and/or Google are able to erase the memory of the computer so that I need to keep copying a new n every time i needed one as I was writing there. Then, they changed the font style to bold, and to underline font as I was trying to think about difficult things to solve. Makes it more difficult than it already is.

This is the text I wrote in that email text box on Google Gmail to no one, not sent:

“That Taylor 362cev goes with a Twitter video from one of the major news outlets, one featuring a young lady who made a dress from discarded mango's. Sometimes the only response to the phrase: "so what?" is "Sew Buttons", We are seeing this week on twitter, stories about castration, on the heels of Bill de Blasio, and stories about school closure, last week.

What to do with so many discarded penis'?

Make a dress. What's address?

The address is the top part of the young lady's mango dress, is made of fabric, while the lower part is made of 1,400 mango's.

Add two breasts contained within the top guilded fabric of the dress. 1,400P + 2 + O = 1,400 + 2OO = 1,400 + 200 = 1,600 Pennsylvania Ave.

The mango's were scattered all over the living room floor.The Oval Orifice is the living room at 1,600 Pennsylvania Ave. We were given the Buttons (nipples) ahead of time with those two dots that were in the Capital D of the Lion, Symba. Daktari. ClubMed. Disney trending on Twitter, tweeted bullshit terror commands at that time. The nipples were horizontal, the D is for Donny. the lion was young, just a cub.

Cubble of horizontal backdoor angels.

The hotel checkout scene from Rat Race: "Affro Whores. Hot steamy anal action, you watched it 17 times. You started to watch the Grinch for ten minutes, then switched back to affro Whores."

"I did not watch Affro Whores!!!"

"And you should"

It's terror commands in the Rat Race movie, says there is a lot to learn on the porn channels, try Canadian Porn HUB to start with, go to Heavy R for the pirate ARrrrrggghhh, if you can stand it, then you are on your own after that. Hot Kinky Jo will show how to insert a Plumbers Test Ball for nitrous attack training, she is Dark Matter, very European Affro Whore that way. She is well traveled, likes Jeeps, Ocean Spray, and the California Desert, carries a Submarine wherever she goes, is well versed about dirt (land ho!), butt is super clean and shiny all of the time.

There is a port for every storm, Jo makes storms for Boris at the House of Floors.Roady (Rhode) Brothers of Palm Springs and Hollywood, installed the floor at the Oval Office in around 1983.Twenty nine palms military base was attacked and taken over, all the service men killed, in around 1982.

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"You watched the Grinch for ten minutes, then switched back to Affro Whores"

"I didn't watch Affro Whores!!"

"And you should"

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Custom Taylored terror, comes with V bracing.Try the Breedlove models from Bend Oregon, made of locally harvested materials, such as Sitka Spruce, and Myrtle Wood. which is famous for hand crafted bowls from Oregon. Can I get you a Hijab? I hear Allah and the Virgins are playing at the Iranian Goat Manger, we have schwagg and backstage accommodations, includes a two-week Princess Cruise with the best blues on the planet, Joe Bonamassa, and Kenny Wayne Sheppard. In local news. A Elmer Fudd looking fellow at the Chapman 3701 Russell Road residence wandered around aimlessly in the woods carrying a something that resembled a Garand rifle. The deer were nervous and five of them ran from the man, who has some doors opened on some outbuidings at the Chapman terror cell, and the wheels of a trailer there seem to be of interest to him also, The man began to use a post to pound a hole into the ground for a moment after he saw me looking at him, then, he just looked lost after that, no apearant direction or intent was observed, other than some threats made with those gestures. There was a Sparacino look-a-like Dodge truck went to Clyde Baums house. Two pedestrians came down the road, from unknown place, one female is resonable facsimile of Francis Taylor, other male is not someone I can relate with at all, neither of them belong on the road, both together look a bit like Bill & Hillary Clinton fifteen years ago.

Manning's red Honda wagon came down the road first, was too slow to have been Rick Manning driving.

Three white geese are new additions at the Monroe terror cell, are inside of a goat barn, used to be a firewood shed. is a place where electronic surveillance equipment is used to record the things that I say and do, terror soldiers often huddle around that shed after attacking me at my home, on the road, or in my driveway, to listen to the recordings made during the attack. They seem to want to know where their comrades are when they do that. There are many places at Monroe’s where electronic gadgets are hidden around the yard, and a lot of traps, snares. dangerous conditions.

On Thu, Dec 3, 2020 at 7:14 AM zZounds News <[email protected]> wrote: <snip>”

======================

There is a lot to think about in that little text above that went nowhere. Some of it demonstrates a connection to 29 Palms in 1983-ish. That is why I am including this otherwise deletable set of ramblings.

I delete most of what I write, there is no one that will help, so, I toss the smaller terror code readings. I put the more important ones here on Tumblr.

=======================

This is the video about the dress:

https://twitter.com/BBCWorld/status/1334466103548981249

This is bonus. Oregon SDA use Myrtlewood as a basis for some of their communication, so, I just linked some Myrtlwood to say so. nothing specific is there, just know that Myrtlewood and SDA are connected in some way, I don‘t have specifics.

This is important. I made comment about Breedlove in that email that went nowhere, then when I looked at the Breedlove website, there is these scary messages about “Partners”, “Companions”, “Side-Kicks”, and other ways to say “Surgically altered pet people kidnapped victims available for SAG members special order from the custom shop”.

There is more info at the Breedlove website where terrorists make beautiful guitars for other terrorists.

Here is where you can see that the text I was writing was changed to an underlined font by the spies who watch everything I do, and prevent me from getting any help I did not make the change to that font style, it was done for me, to let me know that they are watching. I went outside, just then, and indeed there were people watching in person, one looked like he had a Garrand rifle:

Like I said, this is for nsa to consider, so, I am not going to elaborate further on this one, the subject pieces are such that it won‘t help, only will discredit the information presented. Much of the terror comm is done with subject matter that is difficult to share among mixed company, this comm is like that, is in the text of the Gmail I didn‘t send to anyone.

======================

Please send help. no help has come. There are no signs of helpful people.

Send medical services.

Bring your own hospital.

6:20 pm.

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futuresandpasts · 6 years

Text

Futures & Pasts | MRR #414

My column from Maximum Rocknroll #414 (November 2017), one of the rare months this year when I mostly wrote about demos from new bands, as opposed to reissues of records from thirty-plus years ago.

The time that I’ve spent writing this month’s column has been marked by all sorts of strange happenings and general flux. The skies in Portland have been smoke-streaked and raining ash for days because a couple of jackass kids tossed firecrackers into the evergreen forests of the Columbia River Gorge to the east of the city, setting tens of thousands of acres of trees ablaze in the process. My hometown of Houston is still largely underwater after catastrophic hurricane-triggered flooding, and even though it’s been twelve years since I left the city, this might be the first time that I’ve felt so genuinely separated from it, helplessly watching from the opposite side of the country as the places and things that defined my formative years (for better or worse) are completely upended. I quit the radio show that I’d been doing for the last year and a half because the pressure of coming up with a two-hour program week after week without repeating myself was making me lose my mind just a little bit, so I’m back to doing a podcast from my apartment whenever inspiration strikes and I can already tell that it’ll be a better change for me. And I started a new band called COLLATE with two friends a few months back that finally recorded this week, just in time to make some tapes for a short tour down to California in mid-October—come hang out if you’re in Chico, Los Angeles, San Francisco or Oakland and you want talk about oddball ‘70s and ‘80s post-punk records with us.

Five years after Dark Entries’ remastered vinyl reissue of UK minimal wave duo LIVES OF ANGELS’ 1983 cassette Elevator to Eden, they’re back with a brand new LP collection called Hole in the Sky drawn from the group’s unreleased odds and ends and archival tracks sourced from hyper-obscure tape compilations. In contrast to some of their aesthetically similar contemporaries like SOLID SPACE or SECOND LAYER, LIVES OF ANGELS didn’t splinter off from the fertile early ‘80s UK post-punk scene, and in fact vocally rejected it—multi-instrumentalist Gerald O’Connell apparently dismissed everything from the era with the exception of COCTEAU TWINS, DEPECHE MODE, and NEW ORDER. The influence of the latter is especially apparent, and when O’Connell’s wife Catherine takes her turn at the mic (see “I Know About You” or “After Dark”), the result is a sort of striking bedroom synth-pop driven by the mechanical heartbeat of a vintage drum machine, suggesting slightly ragged takes on “Ceremony” or “Age of Consent” as sung with the detached warmth of Alison Statton of YOUNG MARBLE GIANTS. The Gerald-sung songs “Call Moscow” and “Somebody Else” also point to some shared wavelengths with jangly home-taping pop freaks CLEANERS FROM VENUS, who appeared on more than one mid-’80s small-run cassette comp alongside LIVES OF ANGELS, but best of all might be the dark electro-punk minimalism of “Look Out Kid,” spun almost entirely from reverbed drum machine clatter and retro-futuristic synthesizer that connects the dots between KRAFTWERK and the NORMAL. (Dark Entries, livesofangels.bandcamp.com)

From an obscurity dug out of the archives of the 1980s cassette underground to something more contemporary that could convincingly pass for the same: Imagery is the debut four-song tape from MIDNIGHT GARDEN, which appears to be one person armed with a four-track machine in modern-day Toronto crafting fever dream post-punk that sounds like the half-decayed remnants of a demo originally sent to Rough Trade in 1981. The driving, melodic bassline running through the opening and standout track “Structures” immediately had me thinking of early FOR AGAINST (clearly going after my own heart here, as I’ve been trying to rip off the same for years), cutting through the cavernous echo of some tom-heavy drumming and deadpan vocals buried under a thick fog of tape hiss. Then there’s “What Moves You?,” with an insistent back-and-forth of scalpel-edged single-note guitar and pulsing bass that occupies the liminal space between the stark, rhythm-minded approach of Factory Records’ early ‘80s post-punk faction (think pre-electronic SECTION 25) and the desperate and moody atmosphere of goth-adjacent bands like the CHAMELEONS. When you’re this reverent of your source material, it’s all too easy to come off as overly forced and derivative, but the roughed-up and off-kilter aesthetic of these recordings gives MIDNIGHT GARDEN the homespun spark that made the first wave of fiercely DIY post-punks so provocative in the first place. (whatmovesyou.bandcamp.com)

TABLE SUGAR have been making the minimalist art-punk of my dreams in Olympia since at least late 2016 when their demo Introductory Material first surfaced, but it took a tip this summer (from my friend Jay over at Dynamite Hemorrhage) for the band to actually be brought to my attention, and despite all of this brilliant racket happening less than two hours north up I-5 from me in Portland. For any of y’all who rightfully flipped your lid for LITHICS, take note: TABLE SUGAR are truly the next great post-punk weirdos of the Pacific Northwest. Sparse, taut guitar lines stretch out between throbbing bass and choppy drumbeats like the string connecting a pair of tin can telephones, while twin vocalists intone their parts over one another in cool monotones and ecstatic shrieks, sometimes within the span of the same song. “M.e.” even throws some violin into the equation which will undoubtedly evoke some references to the feral femme spirit of the RAINCOATS, but much like their freewheeling Australian counterparts in BENT, TABLE SUGAR are guided less by any rigid adherence to the scratchy groundwork laid down by the RAINCOATS (or DELTA 5, or the AU PAIRS, or…) and more by their foremothers’ general gleeful refusal to color inside the lines. (tablesugarband.bandcamp.com)

Blown-out basement punk newcomers STRANGE FATE hail from the woods of Western Massachusetts, where I spent most of my twenties enduring way too many shows dominated by mysterious guy hardcore bands who were in various phases of moving on from fawning ORCHID worship. I was so desperate for something like this during my time there—frantic, no frills femme-led DIY racket, with dual yelped vocals from guitarists Callie and Lindsey that bring to mind those first two NOTS singles when they were still inviting endless “KLEENEX meets the URINALS” comparisons. STRANGE FATE have the same penchant for whiplash choruses consisting primarily of shouted chants, with most of the songs careening to their end in just barely over a minute. For sheer econo-punk brilliance in 2017, look no further than “I Don’t Wanna Know,” whose lyrics are little more than the title delivered over and over in a snotty sneer over slashing guitars and urgently bashed drums for exactly 60 seconds, although the breathless repetition of “don’t tell me! / don’t tell me nothing!” on “Round Up” is pretty great, too. (strangefate.bandcamp.com)

Oakland’s MINERALS are the latest offshoot of the GRASS WIDOW family tree (the shared DNA is from bassist Raven Mahon), and the new trio’s EP One demo builds upon the same melodic but slightly gnarled framework that made GRASS WIDOW such a revelation in the early twenty-tens. All three MINERALS sing, sometimes with one voice in isolation and sometimes with multiple intersecting parts that briefly overlap in quietly unassuming harmonies, backed by guitar lines twisted into complex shapes and rhythms that subtly shift between tension and sprawl. “First/Firth” and “Third/Therm” are the EP’s gauzy, slowburning pop visions, while the loopier, bass-driven lilt of “Second/Second” and “Fourth/Forth” nods to all of the coolest women of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s post-punk universe. Someone please do a vinyl release of this as soon as possible! (minerals2.bandcamp.com)

#lives of angels #midnight garden #table sugar #strange fate #minerals #futures & pasts #maximum rocknroll

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laurenzimmer-blog · 7 years

Text

Hungry Again

This past summer I ate tacos in the middle of Portland with a mother who had just tried an edible for the first time. I know, I know. I thought this only existed in young adult books with white male protagonists, too.

Hours earlier I hopped off a Greyhound bus from Seattle and took a Lyft to my Airbnb, which is a very twenty-first century sentence. My hosts said this taco place called “Por Qué No?” is one of the best taco places in all of Portland. The restaurant was conveniently by my Airbnb so I decided to walk on over. I had never gone to dinner by myself, but this place reeked of good tequila and fresh tortillas. I stood in that thirty-minute line determined to get a damn taco.

After finding a spot at the bar by the window, this mother – let’s call her Patty - set down her guacamole near my table, asking if she could join me for dinner. I said yes. Her daughter, Lily, accompanied her. After we shared some chips Patty admitted to me she had just tried an edible, albeit with a giggle. She revealed the restaurant is conveniently located next to one of the most popular dispensaries in Portland. Lily chuckled at Patty’s uncontrollable smile. The laughter became contagious. Within minutes Lily started showing me pictures of her children. I felt I had found a dysfunctional, yet functional family in the middle of Portland.

I was halfway done with my chips and salsa when I learned that Lily was in Portland because her youngest child was in the ICU. She had been in Portland for several weeks. Patty was only in town for a few days to support her while her husband and children were back in Idaho.

I didn’t really know how to respond to this. How could a family who shares their overly priced guacamole with me find a way to appear so relaxed in an unfair situation? I nodded solemnly and said sorry, as that is really all I could say. Lily told me the doctors were making progress. I stayed silent, continuing to shove chips in my mouth. I thought I should contribute to their story, but the salt on my tongue gave me an excuse not to.

We exchanged numbers, and I didn’t expect anything more, but they invited me to the zoo the next day. I said yes and then walked back to my Airbnb. I stood there on Mississippi Avenue, listening to the Hamilton soundtrack, confused and satisfied of what the universe had given me.

The next day we embarked on our trip to the zoo. The Portland Zoo is ridiculously impressive, massive, and surprisingly affordable. It’s attached to a forest, which means wild animals literally roam (yes, not figuratively) amongst the gates of the exhibits. It also has one of the biggest elephant zoo research facilities in North America, where zoologists study ways to make elephant habitats safe in zoos. It has everything from alligators to otters. I can admit with much confidence that it is one of the best zoos I’ve visited. As our outing came to an end we said our goodbyes after watching the penguins being fed (per my request, of course).

During the car ride back I noticed the sign on Patty’s rear view mirror. It said, “If you look at the past too closely you’ll miss what is in front of you.” It seemed strangely appropriate and I can imagine you, the reader, feel like I have made up the conclusion to this story. But I suppose the universe can be a little aggressive at times. Sometimes it shouts at you saying, “Do you see this beautiful, ‘in your face’ theme I am presenting to you?” And you sit there, wanting to strangle the metaphor, but occasionally give the universe a free pass. I welcomed her tiny, cliché phrase.

Patty asked me what my plans were. I felt incompetent for not having an exact answer. I had no job and no apartment, yet I chose to travel for almost a month straight. I felt so privileged in that moment, and even worse for complaining about it. Patty squinted her nose and said, “You know, now that I’m older, I am learning that life is short. You can’t let anything get in the way and you have to take time for yourself. I am glad you are doing this. I wish I had.”

I didn’t expect to literally walk into a Jack Kerouac adventure that was so painfully blissful. But there I was in a SUV from the ‘90s, with a mom that had tried an edible for the first time the night before, next to her daughter that had a physically ill child.

I got out of the car, waved goodbye, and walked into Powell’s desperately needing a coffee, and perhaps a lottery ticket.

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I laid on my purple rug in June, with a metal spoon in one hand and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s in the other. I most likely had an episode of the Emmy award winning show Pretty Little Liars on to distract myself from the fact I did not have any clear career path, let alone a job. I hadn’t signed a new lease or had my own car in Austin. So I sat there on the rug, dramatically, soaking in the summer heat, as though this common romantic comedy pose would solve all my problems.

I lost 10 pounds in June. I was 10 pounds lighter on that rug. My bones were so noticeable that I could stab someone with my ribs. At the time, however, I convinced myself I did not have a problem.

A few weeks earlier I started going to the gym to help my anxiety, but I did not have an appetite the entire month. Liz would occasionally bring my soup to eat, but I refused to digest it. No one knew how bad it was and I am not proud of this. I kept it to myself and I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran until I lost ten pounds. My eyes sunk into my skull and I only had enough energy to walk from the gym to my apartment. It became my unhealthy mantra. Still, it made me feel like I had control of my life, but it consumed me. Literally. There is nothing romantic about this situation, and anyone that wants to claim it is, is far too in denial.

I weighted a mere 103 pounds, but I didn’t move from that eighty-dollar rug from Ikea. Granted, I looked for a sign from Jesus or Zeus, as most people in a crisis do.

As I flopped onto my rug, Emily from Pretty Little Liars was making another unconvincing face that she was in trouble. I peaked under my bed and found a convenient world map. I had always meant to get it framed, and I suppose I had meant to do many other things at this point. Still, I looked at it.

I decided to text Mary who lives in Seattle. Five minutes later I booked an almost two week trip to Seattle. And that turned into what it seems every lost white girl does in self-help books: I decided to travel for a month. But don’t worry; I was not going to Bali.

Twenty-two days. I was going to travel by myself for twenty-two days. I bought a bus ticket from Seattle to Portland. I would then fly from Portland to California to get my car. I would go to Santa Cruz, the Silicon Valley, and San Francisco. This truly felt like control.

I deleted my social media and became an active hermit. I pretended to learn Italian and snuck into movie theaters on the outskirts of Austin. I rarely walked on Guadalupe where I had spent much of my time during my last two years in college. I needed to feel healthy away from what I had grown used to. I watched movies instead of TV on Netflix for the first time in my life. I started eating again, even if it was the minimal amount. I finally had time for myself and enjoyed being semi-selfish (emphasis on the “semi,” meaning “half”).

I was confident it was time to move. I loved Austin, and always will, but there was hardly anything left for me. I felt I had finished my time in the place that refuses to completely lose its 1970s appeal. I packed everything into three boxes and two suitcases. I learned I didn’t need much and saved money this way. And I learned not everyone needed to know I was leaving, even if it sounds lonely.

Liz picked me up on my very last day in Austin. It was the 5th of July. My neck was hot and sticky, picking up the Texas humidity like lint. My hair was frizzy. I didn’t cry, but I sat on my unnecessary purple rug one last time. I looked at the bare walls that used to have pictures on it, touching the dust from the leftover blue masking tape that had been there before. I looked out my old window and admired my randomly green painted wall. I noticed how the Texas Hill Country hides the Texas sun so seamlessly.

With my last suitcase in my hand I walked down the spiral staircase that led to my room, which is also, essentially, a death trap. I left my key on the dinning room table. My Texas apartment became my sanctuary. This apartment taught me how to make homemade pumpkin stew. This apartment taught me if something is constantly broken it is more like a home. Most of all, however, this apartment taught me how to love again and how to fall in love.

Liz hugged me and we didn’t say much right away. She used to drive me home after we worked on late night sketches on Tuesdays (I have no idea what happened to half of our unused ideas). We became best friends because of it. Acknowledging this moment was incredibly cheesy, we laughed so we wouldn’t cry.

After my last breakfast at Magnolia Café, Liz finally dropped me off at the airport. She said I was going to be fine. With my two suitcases in my hand I walked into the air-conditioned airport, preparing for my month long break.

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Although I am beyond thankful to have traveled twenty-two days in a row, it is exhausting. I became a professional bus and airplane sleeper. I am blessed (#blessed?”) I can fall asleep anywhere. I am also now a professional at spontaneously bushing my teeth, putting on deodorant secretly, and consuming granola bars on the go.

I could write a book that entails everything I did during these twenty-two days, but I’m afraid it did not include me meeting James Franco or throwing my boots into the Pacific Northwest Trail. I will not bore you with the minor details or convince you I had this extreme life changing moment that connected me to God. I know reading about a white person’s travels can seem redundant and annoying. But I can tell you some of my favorite parts through a hopefully more humorous bulleted list if you’d like to read it.

I, Lauren Zimmer, actually did the following in twenty-two days:

I camped in the Cascades and found a small German town called Leavenworth. It also surprisingly had a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and my favorite cheap beer from Texas. I did, however, not fight a bear. I will never be as cool as Leo.

Speaking of wood related events, I got lost in a forest in Portland. I went to the Rose Gardens. It was free, as was the shuttle, but I thought it would be fun to walk back to the metro. I ended up going on an accidental three-mile hike. I witnessed an archery camp and people that actually enjoy jogging.

I drank beer and spent the entire day at Golden Gardens. And by drinking beer all day I mean I had one, maybe two, and slept in the hammock all day.

Samantha got me addicted to reading The New Yorker and drinking overly priced drip coffee that I’m sure I could have made. I suppose this means I’m going through my pretentious phase. Does it look good? Don’t answer that.

I also met another Samantha in line at the Salt & Straw in Portland. She introduced me to a panorama view of Portland that also has a reasonably priced happy hour.

I mastered the Greyhound bus system and Portland rail system, even when my phone had 20% battery left.

The Mariners lost, but I only spent $20 on the game that included a sunset skyline view of Seattle.

Ronson invited me to a rooftop event in Downtown Seattle that had fancy people from Nordstrom. I’m surprised I did not speak French.

I found a dog beach in Santa Cruz and an owner let me throw a wooden stick to their giant lab.

Cole, his girlfriend Katie, and I witnessed the greatness that is Stranger Things.

I also formed a massive friend crush on Katie.

I bought a Bart ticket instead of a Muni ticket like a fool, but redeemed myself by driving on the hills of San Francisco successfully. Did you hear that, DMV?

I literally danced on the campus of Stanford and every parent and their child prodigy stared at me.

I ate ice cream by myself. It is great. Try it out.

I drove on the same highway that I think James Dean died on. Maybe this is more morbid, but does it give me some street credit? Pun intended.

Also, I finally watched Gravity. We need to talk about this more.

I sang at a karaoke bar for the first time. I performed “Breaking Free.” No one is surprised.

I legitimately found a park called “Lincoln Park.”

I went to a brewery by my Airbnb in Portland and pretended I understood everything about beer when frankly I don’t know shit. (My beer had coffee in it. The Pacific Northwest, am I right?)

I got lost in Powell’s and ate too many donuts on the same day.

Swiss Army Man made me cry. I loved every minute of it.

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I’ve written this essay about twenty times now. I know I am not supposed to admit this, but I am now.

I could romanticize my weight loss and twenty-two days of travel. I could write it in a way that seems claustrophobic. I could write it in a way that sounds perfect, clean cut, as though I have solved my own problems. I could write it in such a circular logical fashion that you might think I am a brilliant, poetic person.

But here I am in my Ravenclaw sweater and gray sweatpants at nine o’clock on a Sunday, writing this once again. I’m listening to the Gilmore Girls soundtrack. I have just come back from my weekly grocery-shopping trip. I am numb, anxious, and most of all, relieved for finally writing this down.

I think this has been so hard to write because I usually end these posts with some kind of conclusion. I am the opposite of Godot. I want to have a resolution (was that joke too pretentious?). I find I am okay at them. I want to write about how I ate a damn pizza and how it revolutionized my world. I also want to say how that pizza also led me to writing a sonnet that changed a life. But unfortunately here I am in my gray sweatpants and Ravenclaw sweatshirt at nine o’clock on a Sunday.

I often wonder how I’d be different if I went to Yale, became an athlete, or a historian. But I have now entered a world where dreams may very much go to die.

I am extremely neurotic and constantly look at ways to make my life more difficult. Some would call this irrational and I agree. I check the oven four times to make it is turned off and walk too fast out of fear of being late. I often isolate myself and hide in my fleece blankets on my bed. I am annoying, worrisome, and frankly too stern at times. But I suppose that is what makes me, me.

But I am smart.

I am not the next Stephen Hawking, Carrie Fisher, or Kamala Harris. I will never write the next Infinite Jest or Casablanca. But I am always learning, drowning in some sort of knowledge in the most cliché of ways. I wish to discover something beyond my meaning and joke I am the best agonistic Jew. It sounds overly dramatic or possibly vain, but this is my essay and I will be if I want to. Are we still making Carly Simon jokes? I know that one was a bit of a reach.

I am meant to be a writer. I have no idea what that means yet and I don’t have to. It feels weird. I say it over and over again like an infomercial. I know it is not practical. Nearly everyone in Los Angeles has a script. I am young and naïve. But I am smart and I want to write.

I do believe I have potential. I question if I am confident enough. I even doubt if this essay is up to one’s standards and it is not even going to be in The New Yorker. But I have to stop and remember I am young. This does not take away from the fact I am driven and clever. I do believe I am kind and I hope I am funny. And I feel this is true. That’s all I - or maybe anyone - can hope for.

I am no longer ten pounds too light or unemployed. I work forty or more hours a week, contemplating my sanity along the way. I also commute from my childhood home, which takes two hours one-way on average because Los Angeles traffic is beyond the comprehension of this universe.

Currently I am soaking in the triumphs and disappointments of Los Angeles. As luck would literally have it I am a Production Assistant at a respectable visual effects company in their commercial’s department. I can say I work in the film industry now, which has been a dream of mine since I was twelve. It sounds pretentious and convenient, doesn’t it? And I hate to say I am good at it, but I feel this is meant to be. I am not showered in gold in an old office where I smoke cigars and wear fur coats, but I have a job in the Industry. I should be proud of this. I have co-workers that also like taking dumb Buzzfeed quizzes, my own health insurance, and I am now responsible for getting birthday cakes, which is a treat. Pun intended. I am also slowly learning Production Coordinator work, which means I get to interact with artists more and pretend I know how Node VFX works. This job means more to me than I can admit and has saved me in an unexpected way. I am beyond grateful and lucky. I am not sure who thought I was cool enough to be here right after graduation, but then again, I am working on the whole “confidence” thing. That was very descriptive, I know.

I think I am still very much myself. I often wear my Finding Nemo sweatshirt and people at work have started calling me Nemo. I live for podcasts, go to the gym for the right reasons, try to eat well, and get at least seven hours of sleep at night. I only have about two hours of free time during the week. However, I have managed to carefully construct my life so that I am able to have a career and adapt to an on average fourteen-hour day. It may seem like I have conquered the Wasteland of Dreams (copyright impending on that one), but I often become fearful that I will never completely reach the dream, whatever that may entail.

But I am learning it is okay to not be okay.

More than I’d like to admit it I am constantly exhausted and worried I am not doing enough. There are many days when I wonder if I am actually going insane (as I am sure many are this year), which I know is mostly me. I am also ashamed for the way I behaved the first half of last year. I feel I did not celebrate myself enough, nor present myself in an authentic way. It sounds absurd to say this and I know this is still from my own personal perspective. Still, I grab onto my spurts of confidence and trust that it will lead me to where I am supposed to go, as vague as that sounds.

I am a perfectionist. I know there is no such thing as being perfect, Oprah, but it does not take away from the fact that I have normalized perfectionism to the point where I have abused myself on occasion. It will, along with my neuroticism, be the flaw I will attempt to fix the rest of my life.

I might sound worse than I actually am. I love I have the opportunity to work in the Industry. I am actually doing it. I hate bragging about privilege because obviously I have it, and I know many people in today’s world do not. And it almost sounds worse admitting this. If I don’t admit my privilege I sound like a bitch. If I do I sound like a bitch. In the end all I can do is try to smile once a day so I do not become too egotistical or lonely. Los Angeles is a non-stop city and I have chosen it. I look forward to what it may bring, even if it makes me question my never ending, or ending existence. And in some regard I think there is a beauty in that. It is almost as if I found my imperfect self in a town that will never be perfect. I suppose some call this fate.

This essay will never be exemplary, nor will someone give me a pat on the back. I may never be able to describe how I feel in this exact moment. Frankly, no one has it together at twenty-two. And if they do, they are lying. If they aren’t they’re a robot. I don’t have time for such a thing.

I have had so much anxiety for not writing this sooner and it’s difficult to say exactly why. I could pretend that I am perfect on every social media platform possible (we are all guilty of this), but in some ways it feels better to share this, so that somehow one may be reminded that he or she has just begun.

But this is “me” now. I am okay and surviving. I have a decent job and am beyond lucky to have cell service. I want to make people laugh, save the environment, and fight for women’s rights along the way. Yeah, I pay attention to the news (is this how one plugs their Twitter? I’m just trying to lighten the mood.)

I am just not okay. But I have time. We all do. And if we actually all reach “okay” one day I hope there is a complimentary donut bar.

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When I got to Stanford I looked around at the anxious families, agonizing over their seemingly perfect children. It made me wonder, just as the parents, of who and what I could have been.

I walked past the Cecil H. Green Library, holding my iPhone. It smelled like new cement with hints of jasmine. I peered through the windows, admiring the ancient green lamps on the wooden desks that most likely had engraved messages within its corners. I was not allowed into the building at the time, but I walked by the fountain. Cyclists rode by and I noticed the preciously placed roses along the concrete, as though I literally smelled the roses for the first time.

I walked into the main quad and gazed up at the massive columns in front of the old secluded church. Families, again, took pictures with their elementary school aged children, hoping these photos would convince them to be a scientist or literary genius.

Quickly, I disappeared down the steps of the plaza and disappeared into the open walkway. I discovered the garden in front of the school marked with a sign. I took a seat on a bench.

I looked at the campus, remembering I was in Austin a month ago. I thought about the times I convinced myself swimming holes were not as unsanitary as they appeared. I thought about the times I stayed up too late drinking beer and listening to records in the same apartment where I said, “I love you” on a green beanbag. I thought about the times I played board games in my Liz’s apartment that included failed games of Pictionary. I thought about the times I studied in the Union until 1 A.M. with Kristine that also included gossip sessions about useless pop culture references. I thought about the time I begged for an extension and the first time I threw up in a toilet from drinking too much, realizing I could be a normal college student for once. I thought about the time I sang karaoke with Victoria in her room before we were convinced we’d meet Joe Jonas who was on campus at the time. I thought about it all. And although I had accepted earlier this month that I had given all this up I did not want it to end. Not in this moment, not in this way. I wanted to hold onto every second. And I did. And I did. And I did, until I could not.

It’s a cliché of course, as most things are in this world, but I cried. I only managed to shed a few tears, as though I was convincing the world I was ready for an Oscar. I looked up and saw a man taking pictures of the front of Stanford, oblivious of every fragment of his life except for the iPhone in his hand. There was not a single cloud in the sky and I could barely hear the cars on the outskirt of campus. It was surreal, as though I should break the silence and talk to this mysterious cameraman. After he took his picture, he walked away quietly, and I sat there smiling, softly, recognizing how far I had traveled. This was day twenty.

I got up, wiped the rest of my tears off my rosy cheeks, and brushed my hands on my very worn in high-waisted pants. I was not okay, but I was okay. And really after all these days of uncertainty I think that’s what I needed the most. And for the first time in several months I became hungry for more of these days.

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genespirations · 6 years

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After a fantastic day in the Franconia Notch State Park in New Hampshire, we headed for Bangor, Maine. We did not know we would be escorted by the participants in The Great Race, an annual event involving street legal vintage automobiles. At first, I was like, “Man! Look at that Model T.” Then, it was, “Wow, that is a cool old pickup. I wonder what model it is?” In our spanking new Kia rental, we were passing these wacky racers like they were in quicksand. All the way to Bangor and the next morning along the road to Bar Harbor we passed these vintage vehicles. An old police car here. A fire truck there. Oh. My. God! Look at that ’57 Chevy! And a T-Bird. The five-hour drive along twisting state highways and county roads was made all the better by the company we kept.

The House that Horror Built

King’s Manor

Bangor doesn’t have much going on and we were in a hurry to join the crowd in Bar Harbor (Bah Hahbuh to locals), so we determined to do just one thing before we left Bangor the next morning: take a photo of Stephen King’s house for our daughter Ashley, who loves scary books and flicks.

If I were to pick the house for the masterful, demented storyteller to live in, I would pick the one he chose for himself. It is beautiful, stately, on a quiet street in an older district…just the kind of place you could imagine disturbing scenes. It even has bats on the wrought iron gates.

Kids, do not trick-or-treat this house!

Bah Hahbuh, Maine

It was raining the morning we rolled into Bar Harbor. Despite a timely stop at an actual brick-and-mortar L.L. Bean store (it is a Maine-based company), where we made off like bandits with a few choice items, this was the first day of the trip where neither of was “feeling it.” Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was Maybelline.

Our Prospects and spirits improved as the rain lightened and we found our hotel – the Holiday Inn Resort, a waterfront property with a lobster shack right on the bay. Lobster for lunch proved the perfect way to get the day back on track. Then, it was off to walk the tourist-trap streets of Bar Harbor, do a little shopping, a little window-shopping, and a little bay-watching. A Norwegian Cruise Line ship had set anchor in the bay, which at least partially explained the crowded downtown streets. Rowing teams were in full sprint, honing their craft. Lovers, dog-lovers, and families lounged on the grassy knoll.

There was a peace amidst the hustle and the bustle.

The Shaker Village People

It was raining when we arrived at Bar Harbor and raining when we left. We agreed that it was a lovely little seaside hamlet we were glad to have visited and convinced we would not need to revisit. Maybe we are spoiled by all those years in − and trips back to – California, we concluded.

Marked on our map of things to see was America’s last remaining active Shaker village. Here’s Encyclopedia Brittanica enlightens us on this small, strange group of believers:

Shaker, member of the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, a celibate millenarian group that established communal settlements in the United States in the 18th century. Based on the revelations of Ann Lee and her vision of the heavenly kingdom to come, Shaker teaching emphasized simplicity, celibacy, and work. Shaker communities flourished in the mid-19th century and contributed a distinctive style of architecture, furniture, and handicraft to American culture. The communities declined in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

The Shakers derived originally from a small branch of English Quakers founded by Jane and James Wardley in 1747. They may have adopted the French Camisards’ ritual practices of shaking, shouting, dancing, whirling, and singing in tongues. The Shaker doctrine, as it came to be known in the United States, was formulated by Ann Lee, a textile worker in Manchester. “Mother Ann,” as she was known to her followers, had a troubled marriage and had suffered difficulties while pregnant (she had four children, all of whom died young), and in 1758 she converted to the “Shaking Quakers.” After enduring persecution and imprisonment for participation in noisy worship services, she had a series of revelations, after which she regarded herself—and was so regarded by her followers—as the female aspect of God’s dual nature (e.g., male and female) and the second Incarnation of Christ. She developed an elaborate theology and established celibacy as the cardinal principle of the community.

In 1774 Mother Ann came to America with eight disciples, having been charged by a new revelation to establish the millennial church in the New World. Settling in 1776 at Niskeyuna (now Watervliet), New York, the small group benefited from an independent revival movement that was sweeping the district, and within five years it grew to several thousand members.

After Mother Ann’s death (1784), the Shaker church came under the leadership of Elder Joseph Meacham and Eldress Lucy Wright. Together they worked out the distinctive pattern of Shaker social organization, which consisted of celibate communities of men and women living together in dormitory-style houses and holding all things in common. The first Shaker community, established at New Lebanon, New York, in 1787, retained leadership of the movement as it spread through New England and westward into Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana. By 1826, 18 Shaker villages had been set up in eight states.

They were, essentially, Quakers getting their groove on. They were Quakers with rhythm. They were Holy Ghost-filled movers and shakers. They were craftsmen par excellence and model farmers. They were…celibate.

Celibacy didn’t help the Shakers’ long-term viability. Only a handful remain.

The quiet Shaker village (there was no worship service going on) with only a handful of visitors wandering the premises was a nice, quiet respite after the crowded streets of Bar Harbor. But we must press on. Our time abroad is growing short. (I know that for most Americans “abroad” means overseas, but we are Texans and NORTH of the Red River.)

A Whoopie Pie, A Lost Purse, and a Sentimental Old Preacher

Portland, Maine’s capital city, sits on a peninsula and is a busy American eastern seaboard port of 70,000 (but a half-million in the region), with a cool, historic vibe. We arrived there in the late afternoon and would only spend a few hours before moving on. We visited the bustling fishing wharf, laughed at the name of the Time & Temperature Building, scoured the historic Old Port district, and ate a Whoopie Pie and a homemade pop tart at the gluten-free (you couldn’t prove it by me) Bam Bam Bakery.

It was late afternoon. We were hurrying to get to the Head Light, the first lighthouse commissioned by President George Washington. Lighthouses were the major reason we were in Maine. Lighthouses and lobster. The drive to the lighthouse was an unexpected delight as we drove through a fine neighborhood of older homes with landscapes bursting with bright, beautiful flowers. We slowed our roll to take it all in and decide which house we would buy if we could.

We arrived at the Head Lighthouse after 6. Donya didn’t want to carry her purse around the park. She asked me to pop the trunk so she could put it there.

Then I heard the exclamation, “Gene! My purse!”

There was horror on her face.

“What?”

“I left it at the bakery.”

I Googled the bakery. They closed at 5 PM. I called anyhow. An old-fashioned answering machine picked up. I left a desperate message, sure her purse with its treasure of money, credit cards, and personal ID was long gone. Halfway through the desperate message I was leaving, maybe the sweetest voice I ever heard said, “Hello! I’m here.”

The manager on duty was our saving grace, our angel of mercy. She found the purse sitting on the table where we left it. She was supposed to be leaving for the day but said she would stick around until we got back.

“Twenty minutes! I will be there in 20 minutes. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

We recovered the purse, found nothing amiss, and returned to the lighthouse, where we were treated to the kind of twilight beauty you just don’t see in Arlington, Texas.

The waves crashing on the rocks, the sea breeze in our face, and the lighthouse on the hill strummed the chords of my soul. Even as I write this post, I am singing,

“There’s a lighthouse on a hillside that overlooks life’s sea. When I’m lost, it sends out a light that I might see. And the light that shines in darkness now will safely lead us o’er. If it wasn’t for the lighthouse, my ship would sail no more. And I thank God for the Lighthouse. I owe my life to Him. Jesus is the Lighthouse and from the rocks of sin He has shown the light around me that I might truly see. If it wasn’t for the Lighthouse, where would this ship be?”

Here’s one of those moments that sticks a lump in your throat and places puddles in your eyes…one of those moments you want to trap in a bottle and put on a shelf, so you can take it down and relive it whenever you like.

Old Enough to Vote – for Kennebunk

Our third (and last) night in Maine would be spent in Kennebunk. Unlike the buzzing streets of Bar Harbor, we found this a quiet hamlet, a welcome respite, and a favorite stop on our journey. The next morning, we were off to Kennebunkport, the seaside beauty that we agreed we much preferred to Bar Harbor. (I know that is not politically correct. What did you expect after all these years?)

Down the winding road from Kennebunkport, we found St. Ann’s by the Sea. I am neither Episcopalian nor an old school liturgical worshiper, but I thought if a person couldn’t see God in this place, then where? Here a man does his best to impress God with amazing architecture, stunning beauty, and an atmosphere that says, “Be still…and listen.” You think that maybe you will never see anything more beautiful or reverent. Then, you step outside and see what God Himself has done.

I could no more imagine a world as beautiful, as magnificent, as orderly, as functional as without its Creator than I could imagine St. Ann’s without the architect that designed her and the builder that put her together.

Lost in the ’80s

St. Ann’s is the church home of the Bush family. Many of its finer features have been maintained or restored by gifts from the family of presidents 41 and 43. Down the road, you find the Bush family’s Kennebunkport “compound.” The main house, which is massive and beautiful, sits right at the peak of a little peninsula, hard against the sea. A string of smaller homes (each bigger than my own) is strung along the private road to the big house. Near the property, there is a pullout on the road. It provides the best view, the opportunity for photos. There, the citizens of Kennebunkport have placed an anchor with a plaque to honor their friend, George H. W. Bush.

Nostalgia settled in my bones.

I was nineteen again, freshly married, and excited to cast my very first vote. I had found a new hero. His vision of America was that of “a shining city on a hill.” He saw America’s founders the way I did, as men of vision and brilliance. He believed in individual freedom and responsibility and opposed Communism with every fiber of his being. His running mate was Bush the elder. I remembered my champion, Ronald Reagan. I thought about that anchor. Another song filled my soul and spilled through my lips…

The anchor holds though the ship’s been battered. The anchor holds though the sails are torn. I have fallen on my knees as I faced the raging seas, but the anchor holds in spite of the storm.

When we were done, before we left for Cape Neddick and the Nubble Lighthouse, I drove back into Kennebunkport and bought a Reagan-Bush ’84 t-shirt. I was only a little annoyed they didn’t have the Reagan-Bush ’80 version.

Go with the Flo

If you are ever driving along Highway 1 in Maine, south of Kennebunkport and north of Cape Neddick, and you see this little red shack on the east side of the road, where the small parking area is packed with cars and people are likely lined up outside the door, stop and get you a couple of steamed hot dogs made Flo’s way. Thank me later.

Hot dog-fueled and ready for one last peek at Maine’s coastal wonder, we stopped at the Nubble Lighthouse. I read somewhere that this is the most photographed lighthouse in the world. I read it on the Internet, so I know it is true.

One last time, we watched the waves crash on massive rocks. One last time, we stood in silent wonder, studying the lighthouse. (This one is on a little island maybe 100′ from the shore.) One last time…

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Next up, The Final Chapter. Stay tuned.

PONDERING WHILE WANDERING – SUMMER VACATION 2018 | PART FIVE: THE MAINE THING IS LOBSTER AND LIGHTHOUSES After a fantastic day in the Franconia Notch State Park in New Hampshire, we headed for Bangor, Maine.

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iamnotthedog · 6 years

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OLYMPIA TO OLYMPIC NATIONAL PARK: AUGUST 12, 2001

“The license plates on the front and back are different,” Joe said. He was standing in front of the truck, one hand holding a cigarette, the other on the hood.

“I know,” I replied. “And check out what I have to do to start the fucking thing.”

We drove back over to the peninsula the same way I had returned, taking Highway 8 to the 12, and over to Aberdeen and Hoquiam, where we hooked up with the 101 that would take us north to Quinault and the Olympic National Forest, and then west out to Kalaloch and the Pacific Ocean. It was a beautiful afternoon drive—the thick gray clouds occasionally breaking to let some sun stream in through the pines. By Lake Quinault, I pulled over next to a sign along the highway that read “Quinault Big Cedar,” and Joe and I hiked into the dense forest to see the gigantic red beast.1 The power of a forest and a tree like that is tangible—you can actually feel it in the air, you can actually feel that trees that big are living, breathing creatures—and I could tell by the look on Joe’s face that he had never felt anything like it. Neither of us said a word for almost a half hour as we walked on the trails and through the ferns, winding our way through the massive trees.

We drove to Kalaloch, parked the truck in the parking lot, and hiked down to the beach, hopping over giant beached logs and piles of driftwood, having finally come to rest after pitching around out on the ocean for who knows how long. After a while, we walked back to the truck, picked up a case of Olympia beer, some bread and cheese, and a couple packs of cigarettes at a gas station, and drove north to a nice little pullout overlooking the ocean.

We sat on the hood of the truck in the wet evening air and cracked a couple beers.

“We’re going to be soaked if we sleep out here,” Joe said between gulps.

“We’ll sleep in the truck bed and put the tarp over us,” I said. “No big deal.”

After an hour or so, we were both drunk and wandering around the edge of the forest and out onto the beach under the sunset—a thin line of red on the horizon that had lit the blanket of clouds above us from underneath and painted the entire great dome of the sky in fiery hues. I walked back to the truck to grab myself another beer and hunk of bread, and Joe yelled to me from the coastline: “You really going to leave?”

“What else am I going to do?” I yelled back to him, “Move in with you and your brother and sleep on the floor and get a fucking job at Olive Garden? I can’t settle down right now, man. I just can’t. I don’t know why.”

Joe picked up a piece of driftwood and threw it up my way. It bounced on the hard sand in front of the truck and skittered to a stop out on the road behind me. “I love it here!” he yelled.

“I do too, man!” I yelled back. “I just don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I feel like I need to go back down to Yosemite,” I said. “I have some connections down there to get me started. I can build a whole new life for myself down there. Moving back up here with you would feel like I was moving back home again. Giving up.”

Joe laughed. “Giving up on what?”

I threw back most of my can of beer in a few big gulps and grabbed another one. I didn’t have an answer.

“You’re going to be famous someday,” Joe said.

We slept in our clothes, with our sleeping bags zipped up over our heads and a tarp pulled over us. I woke up before Joe in the morning, sweating my ass off. Pulling the sleeping bag away from my face, I saw that the fog was burning off, and the sun was streaming down over the tops of the trees to the east and baking us in our little tarp oven. My throat was dry and caked with what felt like gravel, and my temples throbbed. On the ground next to the driver’s side of the truck, a few seagulls were pulling at the bag of bread we had left out, tearing the plastic with their beaks and pecking at the crumbs. I realized neither Joe nor I had thought to bring any water, and I cracked our last beer.

Joe woke up about an hour later, and after a short walk down to the ocean to stretch and splash some salt water on our faces, we drove back to Olympia.

With no traffic, it only took us about an hour and a half to get back within city limits. Turning northeast off the highway onto Black Lake Boulevard, we passed a couple car dealerships, a strip mall, a Walgreen’s, an IHOP, and about a mile of nondescript businesses set off from the road on big parking lots with well-trimmed bushes around the edges. When we turned right on Harrison and started passing some smaller local businesses—a music store, a bike shop, a framing shop, a tavern, a Mexican restaurant—I realized I was about to say goodbye to Joe, then got sort of depressed as I thought of how every goodbye from here on out for the rest of my goddamned life was possibly a goodbye forever. Anything could happen to either of us, or anyone for that matter. There was never any telling in the world. Especially not in my world, not then.

“You know, man,” I said, navigating a turnabout to head southeast and take the 4th Avenue bridge over the gray West Bay, “If everything doesn’t work out for me down in California, maybe I’ll come back here and we can try to make something happen. Maybe go somewhere together. Alaska or South America or something.”

Joe looked at me and smiled, but he had a look of sad understanding in his eyes, as though he could foresee that the words coming out of my mouth were just that. Words. We drove on in silence through some narrow residential streets, then pulled into Ben’s driveway and got out of the truck to hug. Joe lit a cigarette, and stood for a minute at the front of the truck, patting the hood lovingly.

“Take care of this thing,” he said.

“I will,” I answered, sitting back in the driver’s seat. I closed the door and rolled down the window to shake Joe’s hand one more time.

“See you when I see you,” he said.

Then I took off on Interstate 5, due south.

The Quinault Big Cedar is the world’s largest known red cedar at 174 feet tall and nearly twenty feet in diameter. ↩︎

#olympia #aberdeen #hoquiam #washington #olympicnationalpark #quinaultbigcedar #quinault #kalaloch #cigarettes #beer #friendship

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superkrispypeanutstudentstu-blog · 7 years

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Mexico Vacations For Seniors

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When you drive throughout the border, you really ought to take a minute to seek out out about Mexico auto insurance coverage and what your obligations are. Amenities embody a guest house, free tenting area, 3 small household restaurants, and throughout the day there are a number of small distributors promoting food like fried plantains and recent fruits. We were really extra intrigued with a number of the locations within the ship that this tour takes you such because the engine room and an indoor swimming area, all sparsely lit to make them as spooky as potential. In fact, the realm has attracted thousands of surfers and sailing lovers over the years, in addition to the hordes of college students from the U.S. who have made Baja California their unofficial home away from house during spring break. Beachgoers have the chance to expertise nice shelling, swimming, kayaking, windsurfing and the occasional dolphin and sea turtle nesting sightings.Perhaps nothing defines Bonita Springs just like the beaches and the clear water that are just steps away from the sand. WHERE: The Queen Mary is situated at 1126 Queens Freeway in Long Seashore Harbor, a simple 90 minute drive from San Diego or less from most parts of Los Angeles. The promise of Hierve el Agua at the finish of one of the two main tour routes is the best possible means by which to maintain kids in check in the course of the first half of this present day journey. Household medical historical past is rapidly turning into an necessary purpose for folks desirous to study their kinfolk. He was properly-known as a sage and sensible king, who encouraged philosophers, musicians, and artists to make themselves at residence and debate with him over vital problems with the day. Hurricanes kind in the Gulf of Mexico, Caribbean Sea, and the Atlantic when the waters get very heat. Monks had been rounded up, and expelled from lots of the states of Mexico. It is called one of the most top rated seaside resorts in the Cancun area. At Teotitlán del Valle, the rug village, ask your guide to take you to the place you possibly can have a demonstration where the weavers' children and grandchildren will be present. In order to avoid disagreeable surprises, speak to your cruise representative earlier than reserving to search out out what occurs within the event a voyage is canceled. Mexico property house owners in Huatulco are the best hosts that you would ever discover and in an effort to extend their warmth to the tourists, they are providing luxury rental leases. You may even choose a bundle which can take you to totally different areas around Mexico. Different popular Poblano dishes include chiles en nogada, which is meat-stuffed chilies covered in a walnut sauce and pomegranate seeds, and tacos arabes, which is seasoned pork served in puffy wheat tortillas. Many common guided tours embrace whale watching and kayaking. The Anasazi and the Hohokam peoples as soon as inhabited the realm that features modern day Arizona and the Sonora. Richard Villasana, leading authority on Mexico family genealogy, has helped thousands find info on their Mexican family history as well as find friends living in Mexico. We're hearing increasingly how our family can have an effect on us physically, how our genetics affect us. Many individuals now want to know all about their household's well being history so they are going to know what diseases or medical issues they could face as they become older or in order that they will present this family history to their physician. 1000's of vacationers take Cancun Mexico vacations every year as a result of it's so popular with its nightlife, water journey sports like scuba diving, snorkeling and parasailing, discos, entertainment bars, shopping malls, and others. No, this is not Mexico, however the United States! This additionally applies in case your passport has expired and isn't in your possession, if it was issued more than 15 years ago, if it was issued if you had been under sixteen years of age, or if your passport is being replaced as a result of it was misplaced or stolen. To go outside the Membership, a 3rd social gathering trade system must be used similar to RCI, Interval Worldwide, or a smaller system comparable to SFX Resorts. Pieles Pitic is a world-famous producer of handcrafted leather goods positioned in Pitiquito. It's a straightforward space to get to or away from ranging from any level in the Cancun area. Such an enormous state, spanning nice and tropical regions, stretching to five km by means of the sky and lengthening 10,000 km down its shorelines, with a city populated by 19 million people at its heart and quite a few little pueblos all over, could barely fall brief in giving a large array of picks for human escapade. Close to the top of 2006, the whole variety of deaths from the chook flu worldwide stood at just over a hundred. It is Carolina Gynning that you are most definitely to see as she hosts TV exhibits and fashionable reality reveals within the nation. You may as well take a fast journey to the coast to both try the gulf or the Atlantic ocean and spend a couple of days stress-free before heading back dwelling. Many instances, they may come proper up to your boat, making for nice photos or video footage. Under you could find a brief checklist of just a few of the numerous standard vacationer locations which are still safe to go to. Near guided tours, boat cruises are, in addition available. And the #1 CROSS NATION ROAD TRIP OF ALL TIME? Flying to Mexico is the commonest technique to go to the main resort and tourist destinations. Many tourists discover it exciting to journey an ATV alongside the coast or other in Mexican destinations. With this tour, you are taking a helicopter to the West Rim and descend to the canyon flooring. Mendoza has charismatic and the laid-again Latin attract, which makes vacationers wish to booze on wine all day. It's greater than just a spring of break hot spot but Panama Metropolis Seashore is also among the top seashore destinations for households. The onsite spa is right for travelers who simply want to pamper themselves. In many instances the standard of drugs available overseas is equal to the highest hospitals within the U.S. Sufferers are exhibiting up at places like the Apollo Hospital in Hyderabad, India, part of a 36-hospital chain founded by a heart specialist from Massachusetts General. The most effective time to go to Cancun depends in part on whether you prefer to spend a lot of time on the seashore and in the water, or in case you wish to spend most of your time procuring, eating and visiting the assorted attractions in the area. Tourists usually forget, to wash their hands as usually as doable when visiting a foreign country. Solely 8 years after the town's founding, Puebla was well on its strategy to becoming an important industrial, cultural, and academic heart. Although hurricanes occur yearly in cruise ship waters, the disruption they pose to cruise ship site visitors is actually minimal. Mexico seaside resorts come in all completely different sizes and types. Apart from, solo cruise passengers might find dinners, shows, and excursions much less fulfilling as singles than they would with a partner or in a group. There are a number of lakes, rivers, waterfalls, springs, forests and caverns to go to. And if you want to activities, plenty are supplied. That is easier said than executed considering you will be spending some time within the airport and on a airplane with recirculated air, but it surely's an excellent tip nonetheless. In response to their web site, this ATV tour was rated as the perfect ATV tour within the space for 2 years. The Acapulco area is most properly-recognized for its wide range of landscape sceneries. If you're excited by scheduling an ATV jungle tour, you could have to be prepared to journey to the supposed tour website. Daytona entails 20 miles of sparkling white sandy seashores with lovely blue-green waters that greatest for teenagers of all ages. Cozumel Excursions provide ATV jungle tours in and across the Mezcalitos area. If an all-inclusive resort will not be one thing you might be looking for there are many resorts that don't provide it. A typical Cancun tour permits you to witness and expertise Paradise Island, the well-known dancing dolphins within the turquoise blue Caribbean, the Atlantis Submarine, and of course the Mayan ruins. The primary route you will follow here is US-20 the place you get to hit some truly gorgeous places like Niagara Falls and Yellowstone Park. One of the crucial well-known Mexico vacation deal - packages is the resort resorts in Acapulco and is likely one of the places that you should go to in case you are touring to Mexico. As you may properly imagine given this location, Baja California is presented with spectacular seascapes, making it a great destination for myriad different water based leisure actions. cheap hotels luton These tours sail from Isla Mujeres or Cancun. Family tree sites are there primarily with information to assist customers discover people who find themselves deceased.

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rollinbrigittenv8 · 7 years

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A California Road Trip with Lost Campers

Wandering Earl

I shall introduce you to “Caitlin”. Now I don’t know the story behind the name but that was the mini-campervan my girlfriend and I were given for our California road trip when we went to pick up our rental from Lost Campers USA in Los Angeles.

Clean and ready when we arrived, we were given a ‘tour’ of the vehicle, signed some paperwork and within minutes the Lost Campers staff had us on our way. Caitlin would now be our home for the following 6 days.

With a comfy mattress, an interior table and sink and everything from an awning to outdoor chairs and tables, a cooler, a propane stove, cooking equipment and storage compartments, we had everything we could possibly need for our adventure. We were excited to get started and as we turned out of the parking lot near LAX and onto Aviation Boulevard, we knew that traveling in such a van was a wise decision for a budget California road trip.

And this is what happened once that California road trip began…

Day 1: Los Angeles to Morro Bay

It wasn’t long into our adventure, about eight minutes to be precise, when we agreed to have a coffee stop. And you know how it goes, with all the traffic in LA and difficulty finding a parking spot, this turned into a much longer break than expected.

Eventually though, with coffee in hand, we got back out on the road, meandered through the streets of Santa Monica and onto the Pacific Coast Highway.

We were feeling good. We were feeling clean (this would change quickly). And we were feeling energized. We rolled along, passing Malibu and Ventura, until we reached the town of Santa Barbara in time for lunch. We ate at the Santa Barbara Public Market, an indoor food hall on the corner of West Victoria and Chapala Streets that was a great spot for a fresh meal (we went with poke bowls, highly recommended), before stretching our legs on a long walk down State Street. And then, like true campervan novices, we spent an hour in the Ralph’s supermarket trying to figure out what kind of supplies we should buy.

Bananas, wine, granola bars, water, tea and mandarins seemed like all we needed in the end.

In the early evening we pulled into Pismo Beach and went for a walk through the historic, yet tiny, downtown and beachfront, not quite attracted by the shops and restaurants enough to stick around longer but satisfied with our first glimpse of the beach.

We continued north and upon arrival in Morro Bay, decided to pull into a campground for the night. The only problem was that all of the campgrounds were completely full, leaving us no choice but to try and find a quiet spot to park, and hide, our van for the night.

Twenty minutes later we found that spot.

I backed the van up into a corner at the very end of a quiet road along the beach, where we were hidden by a huge pickup truck parked in front of us. And from this location we enjoyed dinner and a bottle of wine in front of the ocean before falling asleep, and eventually waking up to, the sound of the waves, all from the comfort of our campervan’s bed.

Day 2: Seals, Hearst Castle and Big Sur

Awake and ready to go by 8:00am, we stopped for coffee and breakfast at the Luna Coffee Bar in the quiet village of Cayucos before continuing along the coast. After 30 minutes we reached a turnoff that lead to an ‘elephant seal viewing point’.

And then we almost missed seeing the elephant seals. I made the brilliant suggestion to walk along a quiet path to the left, from where we soon saw 3 small seals lying on the sand off in the distance. Luckily, when we returned to the van, my girlfriend suggested that we walk the other way for a moment and sure enough, that’s when we came upon the dozens of massive elephant seals that this area is known for.

It wasn’t even 9:30am when we reached our second stop of the day – the Hearst Castle.

For years I’ve wanted to visit this bizarre mansion built in the early 20th century by newspaper magnate Willian Hearst and now that I have visited, I would recommend it to anyone on a California road trip in this area. We took the one hour Upper Rooms tour with one of the best tour guides we’ve ever encountered and we then spent some time on our own wandering around the expansive gardens and surreal indoor pool.

The ‘castle’ is too crazy and everything from the hilltop location to the zebras (yes, zebras) to the architecture to the ancient artifacts to the interior design to the stories behind every room simply cannot be imagined without being there. Awesome place.

Next up was a subpar Sunday lunch in the nearby town of Cambria. And then…

First, let me state that despite not having a real plan for our road trip, there was actually one place that we really didn’t want to miss – the Henry Miller Memorial Library in Big Sur. My girlfriend is a huge fan of his writing and I’m slowly learning more and more about him and his works.

While located only 30 miles up the road from Cambria, due to the landslides earlier this year that knocked out a couple of bridges along the coast, a long 100+ mile detour was now required to get in and out of Big Sur. We still planned to make the trip though.

So, after our lunch, while sitting in the campervan browsing the internet for a few minutes, I suddenly discovered that the Henry Miller Memorial Library had revised their opening hours because of the drop in tourism after the landslides. They were now only open Thursday to Sunday, 11am – 6pm.

It was Sunday. It was 3:01pm. According to Google Maps, we were 2.5 hours away with the detour.

And off we went…Route 46 over to Route 101 and up to the Nacimiento-Fergusson Road which then took us on a 60 mile adventure through wine country, an eerily quiet stretch of US Army-owned land, the alluring depths of the Los Padres National Forest and the towering Santa Lucia Mountain Range, with its dozens of dangerous turns and lack of barriers protecting you from a long fall of a cliff.

It was a wild detour, gorgeous and energizing, yet slightly nauseating, especially given our time constraints.

We pulled into the Henry Miller Library at 5:35pm.

I’m not sure what was more exciting, being at the library or the journey to get there but we thoroughly enjoyed the 25 minutes we spent wandering around the building, speaking with staff, flipping through books and soaking up the atmosphere.

And then we left.

Our dinner that night consisted of sandwiches bought from the only open shop in the area, the Big Sur Deli, which we ate at the best view point we could possibly find.

After dinner, we pulled into the corner of a small parking lot back near the Big Sur Deli, where we promptly passed out on the bed in our van, quite satisfied with the happenings of this lengthy day.

Day 3: Big Sur and the Middle of Nowhere

The second landslide was just north of where we slept and so on this day, we had no choice but to head back south. We took our time, stopping at several view points along the way until we reached the tiny community of Plaskett. And wherever we stopped, we always had the spot to ourselves, something I never imagined possible along this famous route.

After a lunch overlooking the coast (doesn’t get old!) and a drive up to a mountaintop hermitage that turned out to be closed, we turned back onto that Nacimiento-Fergusson Road from the day before, also the only route out of Big Sur.

But this time, we would do things a little differently. Once at the top of the mountains, we decided to get off the paved road and head onto a dirt track called the Coast Ridge Trail. We were’t exactly sure but looking at Google maps, this route appeared to offer a nice loop that would end up right where we wanted to be later in the day.

Here’s how that went:

We entered extremely remote territory, with not a person, house or sign of civilization to be found.

The dirt road was stunning, cutting into the sides of mountains and along impossibly narrow ridges while offering far-reaching and spectacular views in all directions.

To complete the loop, we had to turn onto a second dirt road.

This second road was insane. Even narrower and with extremely steep inclines and declines, soft dirt patches that were tough to drive through and sheer drop-offs at all times.

It was also insanely beautiful (as you can see in this video!).

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Just before arriving at the main road we were aiming for, we came upon a closed steel gate that blocked our track and forced us to turn around and completely retrace our route for 1.5 hours. (We were not happy about that.)

After thinking we would be stuck in the middle of nowhere while trying to get the van out of some soft sand for the sixth time, we eventually reached the Nacimiento-Fergusson Road once again and continued our journey away from the coast.

After this long day, we decided to spend the night at an RV camp in the small town of Greenfield, right on Route 101, partly because we couldn’t find anything else and weren’t in the mood to keep on searching. Among the huge RVs and massive trailers, we backed up our little minivan into its spot and had a quiet night, and our first shower that didn’t involve splashing water onto our bodies from a sink faucet in a rustic outhouse or bathing in a cold creek (which was actually quite nice).

Day 4: Monterey

After breakfast at the Denny’s in the town of Soledad (what would a US road trip be without one breakfast at Denny’s?), we decided to drive into Salinas, the hometown of John Steinbeck, for a wander through its quaint downtown area.

From here we continued to the coast until we reached Monterey, where we had decided to meet up with my friend Jerry.

I had actually only met Jerry once before (he’s a good friend of one of my good friends), and while I knew he was a stellar guy, I certainly wasn’t expecting the welcome we received from him and his wife. Jerry gave us…

the keys to his classic Saab convertible so that we could buzz around Monterey for the afternoon

a delicious home-cooked seafood dinner that we all ate while looking out over Monterey Bay from the window of his living room

a great room to sleep in (the waves outside lulled us to sleep!) and an invitation to make ourselves completely at home

And most importantly, awesome company. Over a couple of bottles of wine, we all spent a few hours that night talking and laughing about Monterey, about authors and books, politics, our jobs and our other interests. It was simply a great night.

Day 5: A Redwood Forest and Our Final Night

After brunch with Jerry at the excellent Wild Plum Cafe in town, it was time for us to hop back into our van. Our stay in Monterey, which also included time wandering Cannery Row, downtown and the beach, was short but perfect and as a result, we didn’t feel the need to visit any other towns. We drove right through Santa Cruz and onto Route 9 until we reached the Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park instead.

It was our first encounter with the redwoods and this little park was an ideal location to get out into nature and be among these massive, mesmerizing trees.

Then, before we knew it, the time had come to find a place where we could enjoy our final evening with the campervan. We continued into San Mateo county along small roads for about an hour and a half, randomly turning right and left several times, until we came upon a one lane, cracked pavement path that seemed worth checking out. We followed it for about 2 miles and it eventually led us into the Pescadero Creek Park, a park that seemed to be long forgotten given the condition of its gate and entry way and the complete lack of even a trace of visitors.

As a result, we were thrilled and we soon found a small clearing right up on a mountain ridge. This would prove to be the idyllic location we had hoped for.

We pulled out the chairs from the van just in time for sunset, poured some wine, put on some music and, despite having forgotten to buy dinner and with only granola bars to eat as a result, we dug in for one final night among the beautiful California nature.

Day 6: San Francisco

Waking up early in the midst of some heavy, wet fog, we did some work (despite the remote location we had great 4G coverage!), organized all of our stuff and then quietly began the last leg of our California road trip. Two hours later we pulled into the Lost Campers parking lot in San Francisco, climbed out one last time and just like that, dropped off our trusty campervan.

A California Road Trip in a Mini-Campervan?

Is a mini-campervan right for you? I’d be curious to hear your thoughts.

After our experience, we realized that the main downside of such travel is that it can be a little cramped as there isn’t a huge amount of space inside the minivan.

Apart from that though, it’s definitely an ideal option for travelers that simply need a place to sleep and the basic amenities for their road trip. For one or two people, it works out very well as the small van allows you to travel on any road and you always have a bed to lie on. If you use campgrounds, the real mattress inside the van is far more comfortable than sleeping in a tent and you’ll also have all the equipment you need to prepare your meals.

And when split among a couple of travelers, the price is more than reasonable since you get both transportation and accommodation in one.

As for Lost Campers themselves, the staff are extremely helpful and the company’s culture seems to truly revolve around making their travelers happy. I know a couple of readers wrote to me after my last post to say they had an awesome experience with this company too. The vans and equipment are in good condition, the rental process is hassle-free and they have three convenient locations as well (Los Angeles, San Francisco and Salt Lake City).

If this is your travel style, Lost Campers USA is well worth checking out for a California road trip, or any road trip in the western USA!

Would you travel in a mini-campervan? Any questions about the road trip or the campervan itself? Let me know!

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