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chloroformthelittleb4stard · 3 years

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Family Relations - Part 2

Summary: Your criminology teacher is acting all kinds of weird, which is the norm, except for the part where his eyes glaze over and he tries to kill someone. Stiles, the hero he is, tries to stop your professor with little avail until he gets some unnoticeable help from you. Stiles seems to find himself with you at the location of multiple attacks, just barely making it out alive. Through the bloodshed feelings, family, and friends mix to create a perfect blend of chaos and calm.

T/CW: Blood, gore, panic attack mention, violence

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You didn't see Stiles for another two days, but when you did see him, he wasn't alone.

"Y/n! Over here!" Stiles called you from across the quad, despite the almost murder college life hadn't slowed down much at all, and your local coffee shop was still swamped with people. Instead of leaving your place in line to see Stiles and the tan man next to him, you beckoned them over to you, indirectly inviting them for coffee as well.

Stiles shuffled up next to you, still not use crutches, and dragged Scott along with him, introducing you both immediately.|

"Scott this is Y/n, Y/n this is Scott." You both shook hands and exchanged greetings, a comfortable small talk taking over the three of you. You'd been so close to getting your sweet iced tea when a blood curdling scream rang out from the shop. Everyone ran towards it, including you, Scott, and Stiles, but when the general population saw the body of a barista, throat slit and bleeding out onto the counter still holding someone's drink, they ran away. Another scream came, this time from behind the "employee only" door and you all looked at each other before running towards it. Stiles burst through first, taking off seconds later to round the corner with you and Scott not far behind. You barely avoided running into one another as Stiles stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a man, possibly a college senior, holding a knife to the throat of a crying barista who couldn't have been older than 19. She cried out to you three and immediately you all sprung into action.

Without a second thought Stiles grabbed the nearest object, a wooden crate, and ran towards the man who in response dropped the barista and charged at him. Scott had already transformed and was charging towards the man as well, fangs and claws out, his eyes glowing a blood red as he focused on his target. You panicked for a moment, frantically looking around for a way to help, when you caught sight of a pipe hanging above the man's head. Taking a deep breath you blocked out the scene around you, focusing only on the pipe you threw your hands forwards, sending blades of air to cut off a section of the metal which then fell just behind the man, the metal rolling forwards and tripping him into Scott's waiting claws.

Stiles at this point had backed off and run towards the barista, who was curled in a ball and crying on the floor, still bleeding slightly from where the knife had pressed into her throat. She was sobbing as he talked her down from her panic attack, a skill he had mastered by now. When she calmed down he made her promise to not tell the police what he, or his friends, looked like and she agreed, still shaken up from the entire ordeal.

On the strong possibility that you and Stiles would be suspects, having been at, as you're aware of, the only two crime scenes, you all decided that you'd simply go back to Stiles' dorm to have his watered-down coffee. The walk back was quiet, no one had seen your feat of magic and you pretended not to have seen Scott's shift, blaming the chaos and fear for your being frozen in place, which the boys believed. Stiles and Scott had comforted you the entire walk back to their dorm and you played heavily into the role of the scarred witness, leaning into Stiles' side for comfort and ignoring the warmth that spread through your body at the contact.

"I take it you're not from here Y/n." Scott assumed, head tilting in your direction as you settled into the boys' dorm for a cup of mediocre coffee.

"Nope, I'm from out East, DMV baby!" You laughed, proud of where your home was.

"DMV? No way, I wanna work out there." Stiles' eyes went wide, not paying attention to the coffee machine and almost spilling it onto his hands. Thankfully you managed to redirect it away from his hand with a small gust of wind, sparing him some nasty second degree burns.

"I kind of figured, FBI and all that." You waved your hand submissively, making Scott chuckle since you were the first woman outside of the pack who wasn't immediately taken with the fact that Stiles wanted to be a FBI agent.

"Well what do you want to do smartass?" Stiles rolled his eyes, not being used to someone who was unfazed by his career choice.

"I want to work for the ACLU in legal defense and legislation." You held your head high, the legacy of the ACLU and your family shining behind you as you were reminded of your mom's accomplishments before she passed.

"Ok I want to be a vet so I don't know what the hell you two are on." Scott's comment made you all laugh, the energy friendly and calm as you personalized your coffees to make them less plain. Stiles' cup looked almost light brown by the time he was done, it had a swirl of whipped cream on top of it and he slurped it down greedily.

"Can that even be considered coffee?" Your comment made Stiles roll his eyes, Scott having made similar ones before.

"That's what I said! He doesn't even need all the sugar, look at him he's hyper enough." Scott made an exasperated noise as he gestured to Stiles who was fidgeting as per usual and his leg was bouncing a mile a minute.

"ADHD?" You wondered aloud, a quick nod from Stiles and Scott confirming your theory which in turn caused you to mention your own ADHD casually so that Stiles hopefully wouldn't feel so called out.

"Great now you'll both be bouncing off the walls." Mutters came from Scott and you gave a snort in response, Stiles slipping his arm to lock with yours and playfully defend you of his roommate's accusations.

"She's not bouncing off the walls, look she's perfectly still!" While gesturing at you Stiles noticed your tremor, and the way you kept moving your feet in your shoes, choosing to ignore them in favor of winning in his defense of you.

You spent the rest of lunch with Stiles and Scott, milling about their dorm room while the conversation hopped from topic to topic, ending with a heated debate between you and Stiles over Star Wars and Star Trek.

"I cannot believe you're a Star Trek fan, that's so old!" You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the idea that something being old means it's bad.

"It's original! I can't watch Star Wars without thinking of Star Trek every second, they're a total rip-off!"

"That's not true! Star Wars has an entirely different plot, and they have different fights and different universes even!" Scott was banging his head against the wall, the nerd speak of his best friend and his best friend's new friend driving him absolutely insane with boredom.

"Enough! I have studying to do, or something, Stiles you have class in twenty minutes. No more nerdy stuff please." Letting out a chuckle you made your way towards the door, lingering so you could exchange numbers with them both. Stiles walked you down to the door of their building, gently holding your arm so you wouldn't leave immediately.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me a couple of days ago, again." His hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck while he chuckled, leaning against the doorframe to take the weight off of his injured leg.

"Yeah, 'course, no problem really." A shy smile appeared on your face, the blush heating your cheeks making you tilt your head down slightly as you tried to avoid looking in his eyes for fear of giving your feelings away.

"Well, I really appreciate it. So, I'll text you?" He was still nervous, the energy around you both crackling with tension.

"Yeah, absolutely." Your eyes met his for a final goodbye as you reluctantly turned away, giving him a wave while you suppressed the grin that was threatening to overtake your face. A grin that finally came out as soon as you turned away, and didn't leave until you made it back to your own dorm, smiling like an idiot while you thought about him.

#tw gore #violence tw #tw blood #panic attack mention #Family Relations #Family Relations part 2 #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski/witch!reader #teen wolf

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kingofthecon · 3 years

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Things I don't get paid enough to do: Fast Food dealing with assholes.

Things I really don't get paid enough to do: Fast Food dealing with assholes on Super Bowl Sunday.

If you're going to order fast food or pizza or whatever remember to be courteous, especially to the people answering phones. In the case my store us grunts don't have access to GPS tracking devices on our drivers therefore we cannot tell you the route they're going to take. We cannot predict the weather. We cannot predict traffic. We can give you an estimation of how long it'll take for your food to arrive based on the distance from the store to your residence but not from the store to residence to residence to residence with all these outsider factors. Humans are not predictable. Sometimes you need to go a different way. Sometimes there are car accidents and flat tires. Chill out with that yelling and cursing. Its the same song and dance every year. You are not the only one ordering food for a sporting event. Keep in mind people have parties with dozens of people even IN the pandemic. We've seen this with celebs, YouTubers, and Tiktok stars so no, just because you live five minutes away means nothing. If all our drivers are out taking ten to twenty boxes of food to five or six different address and your order is still at the store then you will have to wait for one of the drivers to return to the store to pick up not only YOUR order but other people's orders as well.

Get that mentality of your order will arrive in fifteen minutes out of your heads. That's only if you're ordering for carry out and that's because it takes our food roughly fifteen minutes to go in and come out of the oven. This thirty minutes or less free nonsense is not a thing. It was at some point. It's not now. Its not funny. Stop harassing people on the phone. If we say there's nothing we can do about it after sitting on the phone with you for fifteen minutes then there is nothing we can do.

If you ask to speak to the manager or if we ask you if you want us to connect you with the manager and you say yes there is a chance you'll have to sit on hold for a bit. The manager doesn't just sit in the back waiting on calls. Managers also help to make food and if its busy for whatever reason and the grunts need help then the manager is most likely going to be a little preoccupied. If you hang up and call back REPEATEDLY and other people are calling in to order then you'll lose your place.

It's like a those lines for lunch or the DMV. If you step out of line you get sent to the back.

Here's some general advice.

· Don't try to pop off on us because some people have short fuses and the world is crazy now. You don't know what's liable to happen, especially if you're ordering delivery. We literally have your address. We can ban you or, absolutely shitties worst case scenario, someone can drive to your house.

· If you're gonna throw a party and know that holidays and certain events get a lot of traffic come and pick up your food if you are able. It'll save you a ton of trouble and time and you won't have to worry about whether your food will be hot or late. It sucks but you know the saying: If you want something done right then do it yourself.

· Listen to the person that's trying to help you. I can assure you that the person currently working their shift knows what's going on in their store more than you do regardless of whether you've worked at the same restaurant. Franchises and corporate stores have different people running them. Don't tell us how to do our job. We know what we're doing...most of the time.

· We've been on the other side of the counter. Most of us can relate to your frustrations and will try our damndest to help you. I've paid for people's food when they've genuinely forgotten their wallets. I've given people sodas when they’ve had to wait extended periods of time for errors on our part, used my discount, etc. We know what it's like to have a bad day or to have lapses where your forget things. Some people will help. Others won't. Don't expect handouts. Don't expect everyone to feel for your plight.

· Don't try to fight the employees. You're liable to get a chair thrown at you. I say that with all the seriousness of witnessing an employee throw a chair at a customer in self-defense. Don't bring weapons. Our drivers are packing heat. Don't get shot over food i promise its not worth it. Don't beat up the 17 year old employee because you ordered your food incorrectly online.

· When ordering online make sure you are paying attention instead of whizzing passed the review screen. So many people get upset with us because something wasn't added to their order even though they pressed the button. This is why you review it. Make sure that your address is correct especially if you use an outside delivery app and have ordered from multiple places otherwise you might end up sending your order to a different address than the one intended. In some cases we cannot change that and you'll have to manually cancel your order. Do. Not. Immediately try to order again if you've paid with card and are low on funds. Check your bank account first to see if the money has been refunded otherwise you will end up overdrafting.

· If you're placing an order over the phone and you know you want to pay with your card PLEASE have your card out and ready. Don't start yelling for people to grab your purse or wallet. Us phone people tend to have the phones ringing off the hook and you're tying up our phone lines. Same with people who repeatedly hang up and call back. Don't do that. Please have your card at the ready or please know your number by heart.

These are pretty much friendly reminders, warnings, and general pet peeves of mind. Please do your part as a customer to make everyone's experience as painless as possible. We won't spit in your food, but drivers will go to your house last (unless you tip well) and phone people can mark in the notes to ban you and give bogus reasons as to why (or legit ones when someone threatened to shoot me and our driver). You make our lives miserable we'll return the favor. If you're decent and considerate and a regular customer not only will we remember you, but sometimes we'll sneak extra dipping sauces in there (our dipping sauce cups are 75 cents each?). So yeah, that's your PSA from a disgruntled fast food employee.

#—KotC™#—Con-Ar #Rant #TW Fast Food #Customers Are Not Always Right #Super Bowl #Super Bowl Sunday #Fast Food #Uber #Grub Hub #Door Dash

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spideycentral · 5 years

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Fandango: How does it feel to finally have a trailer out there that speaks to the events of Avengers: Endgame?

Jon Watts: Oh my gosh. Oh man. Endgame being out, everyone knowing what happened... and now this trailer is such a relief, such a burden off of my shoulders to carry new secrets around with me.

Fandango: How far after the events of Avengers: Endgame does this film pick up? What is the New York that we're introduced to in this movie? What does Queens look like, post-Endgame?

Jon Watts: We don't say specifically how far after, but the idea is that it's almost immediately after the events of Endgame. So we get to see the neighborhood from the first movie dealing with the implications of all of the crazy fallout of Endgame. And, you know, in classic New York style, everyone is just moving on and getting on with their daily lives. Ya know, half the people that disappeared are now back, so let's move on. [laughs]

Fandango: Let's get to the most important question: Does Far From Home introduce the Multiverse to the MCU?

Jon Watts: Well, I mean, yeah. We had to look at it in terms of the scope of what happened at the end of Endgame. Seeing all the crazy things that they did and all the questions that raises. So we're definitely trying to answer one of the big ones -- alternate timelines. So many possibilities opened up at the end of Endgame, and Peter Parker is one of the few people on the ground dealing with them.

Fandango: Are you able to explain the rules of this multiverse in terms of how it differs from the Spider-Verse that we were introduced to in Into The Spider-Verse?

Jon Watts: I wouldn't dare! I'll let Nick Fury do that.

Fandango: Speaking of Nick Fury, what version of Fury are we seeing in this movie? Is he back running a new organization?

Jon Watts: Well, that was what was very exciting to me because this is a version of Nick Fury I don't think we've ever seen, which is a Nick Fury who is playing catch-up. He disappeared for five years and the world changed dramatically in his absence, and here he is trying to put together a new team.

Fandango: So is that his mission here -- to put together a new team?

Jon Watts: Yes, Spider-Man and Mysterio are being recruited to tackle this threat of the Elementals. That's what Nick Fury does, but now things are crazier than usual.

Fandango: The most memorable line in the trailer belongs to Nick Fury, when he says, "B*tch please, you been to space." What was the origin of that line, and did Samuel L. Jackson improv it?

Jon Watts: No no, we wrote that. I'm so happy it made the trailer. But I mean, how you gonna argue with Nick Fury? [Spider-Man] has been to space. You can't be pulling that card anymore cause Nick Fury will be the first one to call him on it.

Fandango: Who is Mysterio when we first meet him and what is his agenda?

Jon Watts: In the film, it's similar to the trailer, he is introduced as a potential ally to fight off this elemental threat.

Fandango: And these elemental monsters... are they from another Earth, too? The same one Mysterio claims to be from?

Jon Watts: Yes, exactly. Exactly. They're both from the same sort of parallel dimension, yeah.

Fandango: Gotta ask about Miles Morales, who was hinted at in Homecoming. Does this new multiverse mean we get to meet Miles in this film?

Jon Watts: There is no Miles in this film, or at least not yet. But who knows... we edit these films down to the last second, so you never know.

Fandango: We don't get to see Laura Harrier or Michael Keaton's characters in the trailer. Are they in the film?

Jon Watts: Keaton is not in the movie, and Laura is not in the movie.

Fandango: What about Aunt May? We don't see her in the trailer either... did she survive the snap and age five years or was she snapped?

Jon Watts: She disappeared and came back.

Fandango: In the trailer, Fury says it was the "snap" that caused this rip in the universe. Does your film answer which snap it was? Was it the one that brought the heroes back or the one that killed the villains?

Jon Watts: Yeah, these are all great questions and there are so many answers, but I don't want to give it away.

Fandango: Five years have passed and Peter's friends are all still the same age. Will there be characters who we met inHomecoming who appear in Far From Home having aged those five years?

Jon Watts: Yeah, that's one of the fun things that we get to play with -- the sort of real-world, ground-level implications of something like that. You don't get to see any of the fallout in Endgame, and we get to explore that in our movie. It's really interesting and fun.

Fandango: That was one of the best parts of Homecoming, in terms of it giving us this ground-level version of the MCU. Like what happened to all that debris left over from the Battle of New York in The Avengers. Do you do a lot more of that in Far From Home, but with regards to the world post-Endgame?

Jon Watts: Yeah, exactly. I've always seen Spider-Man as the most relatable superhero for that reason. He is on the ground level of this fantastic universe. So many things happened in Endgame, but you don't see any of the fallout. So I used Peter Parker/Spider-Man as an opportunity to get that ground-level perspective to show you what it would look like if all these crazy things had happened. What would day-to-day life be? If you were snapped away, you'd have to work backwards and retake your midterms.

Fandango: Or what would the lines at the DMV even look like? Renewing your license or updating your passport? Are these things addressed in the film?

Jon Watts: Yeah, that was one of the most fun things -- just talking through what the most mundane implications would be. Like, your birthday on your driver's license or passport would say that you are five years older than you technically are. Those sorts of questions are just so fascinating to me, and I really wanted to get into the minutiae of it and really explore that.

Fandango: What is Happy Hogan's role in this film, and what is his life like, post-Tony Stark?

Jon Watts: Similar to Peter, who lost his mentor in Tony... you know, Happy has been there since the very beginning. I think a big part of this story is trying to find your place in the world if the center of your world is gone. I've always liked Happy as a character, and to use him to explore some of these things was really exciting. To explore a world without Tony, who was the man that created Iron Man.

Fandango: This time around, it seems the theme revolves around Peter's desire to remain a kid while struggling with this responsibility to take over Tony's role in the MCU. How accurate is that?

Jon Watts: Yeah, you know in the last movie, it was like he was ready to step up, but the world was telling him no. Now, the world is asking him to step up, and he's not sure whether he's ready for that level of responsibility. Like, he's still a 16-year-old kid from Queens. It's something I can relate, too. I remember being a kid and you desparately want to be treated as an adult. But then suddenly you're treated as an adult, and suddenly you realize that maybe it was better back when I was being treated as a kid. Once you cross that threshold, there's no going back.

Fandango: Homecoming felt very much inspired by the movies of John Hughes. What would you say are some of Far From Home's influences?

Jon Watts: I thought there were a lot more movies about high school kids going on European vacations. I thought that was totally a genre! So there wasn't the same kind of canon to draw from, which were like '80s and '90s coming-of-age movies, but as a result I think we got a lot more diverse influences across the board. It gave us an excuse to rewatch every James Bond movie.

Fandango: Are the James Bond movies a big influence on Far From Home? Did you screen them for the kids?

Jon Watts: No, we didn't do that this time around. I feel like Tom Holland has already seen every James Bond movie because he loves James Bond. For myself, the crew and the cast, it was all about immersing ourselves in European travel movies. There's so much to draw from there -- a lot more diverse.

Fandango: Early on in the trailer, we see Spider-Man fighting off some criminals. Are those criminals perhaps tied to someone like Kingpin?

Jon Watts: Well, I don't want to say too much, but I will say they're not specifically tied to Kingpin in this movie. But you do get to see what it's like now for Spider-Man to be a very confident and friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I feel like he's got the neighborhood under control.

Fandango: What were you able to do in this film that you didn't get to do in Homecoming?

Jon Watts: Getting to work with Jake [Gyllenhaal] and Sam Jackson was amazing, but in terms of a pure filmmaking level, I really wanted to turn up the action and make that huge. In the last movie, we kept things a little bit smaller, intentionally, to remind people why they love Spider-Man. And without changing the tone, I wanted to keep that ground-level relatability, but also turn up the level of action to create something really spectacular. I wanted to show people things that they've never seen before at the movies.

Fandango: In terms of what we see in the trailer, is there a ton more we're not seeing?

Jon Watts: You know, for a trailer that has a lot of stuff in it, it's just really scratching the surface.

#sm:ffh #endgame spoilers #article #jon watts #long post

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artiemoonqueen · 4 years

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Baby

By: Monica Lebron

I was part of a family that had very few pets. We had a turtle that was always there since I can remember but was never...never named. We had doves that my dad once built a coop next to our garage. We would have them in the house as they would sit on our shoulders and often lay unfertilized eggs everywhere. My brother and I were definitely too young to take care of doves. One perished from a night in said coop by a predator, the other was wounded and healed inside the house. We somehow...crushed this one during one of our rough housing. I know I know, we are heathens and should be sent to Peta jail but we were children. Being only three years apart from one another at ages 8-10, we were wrestling and playing on the couch with a comforter and one thing led to another. Our last friend from a pair seems to have gotten tangled up with us. We were very very mournful I swear to you all. After that, our parents had divorced(not because of the doves) and I was left to entertain myself without any responsibility to a pet. It was another story for my brother and mom but this isn;t about their many adventures with pets. This really isn't about the ‘previous’ pets we had in the past. This story is about Baby. In the year 2018, long before my 28th birthday I had to figure out a living situation.

1)find roommates that I knew

2)find roommates that I didn’t know

3)move back with my dad

4)live on my own

Since I had lived two years with roommates that I knew and some I knew too much. Before that I was living with my father that would sometimes ‘break my soul’. And I was a bit hesitant to move with people that were strangers at that time, I took the opportunity to live on my own for the first time. $650.00 for an apartment that has high ceilings, beautiful lighting that I will admit that I am currently kicking myself that I didn’t take enough selfies. Furniture and decorations of my own taste and pretty chill neighbors, the location was a little out of ways from anyone visiting and just down the hill was a large pharmaceutical company that was the ‘leading biotechnology company that invents life-transforming medicines for people with serious diseases’ in other words, high possibility that they are working on zombie-endulced material that a friend of mine who once worked there, would swear that that wasn’t happening but promise to text me ‘code red’ as a warning to get my ass far away from that place in anything were to happen.

So I was alone finally and I had really fucking felt it. I went through a winter before looking through websites for adopting an adult feline. I had no preference other than friendly, pettable, I pick up and hug when I need it, but independent. Spoilers(with tears coming down my face I was able to find that. Sorry I thought this was going to be easier) Before our paths would tangle as the dove with my brother and I’s wrestling match, I first looked on the local humane society website to look for potential companions. While I knew I wanted an older cat because of less time training and the idea of giving an older cat a better life, I saw a green eye, black cat with the christen name ‘Monica’. Now if you want to take this moment to go back to the top of this tale and look at the author’s name, I too am named ‘Monica’. What kinda psycho names a cat with a human name like ‘Monica’? I’ve heard names like Sprinkles, Scooby, Donut, Ringo, Chucky, and just about any reference to a greek god/goddess or dessert. Who was the previous owner that watched too many episodes of ‘Friends’ that decided to name a kitten Monica? I quietly laughed in my lonely one bed-room and moved along the website until the next day, on May 21, 2018. A week before my 28th birthday, my little cousin and I drove our way to the adoption center to look at cats that I had no idea whether I would go through with it or not.

“There’s a cat there named Monica?” my cousin had asked after I told her the musing I did the night before.

“ Yeah, she was cute but I can’t take her! I’d look insane.”

“ You don’t know Monica, maybe she is the one.”

“ Hell fucking no.”

We got out of the car and walked in. The front desk had a box of kittens that needed to be processed in. Their mewls were delightful to hear but were too young to be adopted out. I had signed in and asked ‘what’s your most friendliest outgoing cat here right now?’ The person attending us was quick to say all the cats were great but in her time there she had gotten to like a cat named...Monica. I could feel my cousin's smirking gaze on me. I was not going to subject myself to ridicule for having a cat with my same namesake thank you very much. There were many potential companions to see anyway. Some very old and very young. One with just an eye that I was close to choosing and others with large ears that reminded me of season 1 of ‘Girls’ Adam Sackler. But in the room with both a ‘mr and mrs. Incredible’ was also the notable cat named Monica. Let me tell you a little about the cat that will soon be renamed ‘Baby’. She knew how to get ya’ to want her affection. She knew that being present, unafraid. In the open, fluffy with hints of grey and a rich reddish brown coat along the black, open wide green eyes and a meow that was certain. She was her own saleswoman. In a true cliche, I was ‘hook, line and sinker’.

After $90.00 in cash, in a cardboard ‘cat carrier’ and her meowing away, I took a female, domestic longhair, black, eye color that was the color green. Birth Date 10/2009, formerly named ‘Monica’ home. Our first week, I thought she wanted to get close to me at night so when I awoke to a bat that brushed across my face and not her, that was fun. Eleven shots and two weeks of follow up maintenance shots for rabies, we had gotten familiar to one another. I would feed her half a can of wet food at 5:30 am before my morning shift at my part time job at the dmv and feed her the rest at night after my shift from my salon job. She lay on her back sometimes when we were both in the living room while I enjoyed binging on tv. And meow when I say ‘what?’ when we would eye at each-other. She will follow me to a basement apartment that I shared with my close friend David. We call her ‘pizza’ baby because of the time she climbed alongside the back of the couch while we were eating pizza from Pizzaroni. I felt a tug on my left arm that was holding up my cheese slice. When I looked, she was leaning far to reach my pizza to eat it. Not a successful attempt that time but she will try again. She constantly wanted the attention of David to which he would gladly and promptly pet her while she purred and then quickly turned around to bit his hand away. He always gave her the attention though. For that I am grateful for David. You made sure she ate and loved. You affectionately talk about her to your parents on your long distance phone calls with them and tell your two ideal brunch buddies about your time with Baby. You were the best coparent for her when I would leave for a week long trip to Europe or weekends away to work conventions. She loved you. You had to know that, and you Mike. She loved you too. But she didn’t love the dogs that would shit all over the backyard on the walkway to the trash. Those assholes.

Her next adventure with a month long excursion to my dad’s house before the final move together. While I worked my last few weeks at the salon to save for the time that I would become a true ‘City’ woman. She would find ways to break into my dad's room to lay on the middle of his bed and sleep. His heater would be right in her direction, while we sat unknowing in his recliner in front of his tv. He didn't want to like her. I know this. But who could meet a cat like Baby and not love her. Who would not love seeing a black cat go on her hind legs to look out the window that you have looked through to see the ongoings of the gentleman club next door. Yes, from grades eighth to age 26 I had lived in an apartment that was a stone throw away from a gentleman’s club that late at night, my dad would wake me up to see out the window and watch as the patrons would take pictures of topless dancers on the sign of the establishment before a game of ‘catch me if you can’ through the usual busy main street formerly known as The Bowery before 1867 however that should be left for another drawn out tale. Baby will have a final destination and despite her short time here, my dream of her sleeping peacefully near me while I lay on my bed on a raining day did come to fruition. Super Bowl LIV, February 2, 2019. Both my birth mother and I are hungover from separate nights from each other. She picks up my stuff, Baby and I. And we head to my current apartment in Brooklyn, New York. A dream that I have had besides the many others that will be done and accomplished, I swear. Baby is free to roam the car but she opts to explore little and sleeps most of the way to hear and then to Long Beach for two nights of rest. She walks around like the fearless cat that she is in any space she is in. Never cowers. Never shows fear or intimidation. She is fucking awesome in all her glory and we live together here for another six months until she seems to not to be herself.

As I live in a time of fear for my health during a pandemic, I don’t realize that Baby could be going through a decrease of quality of life with some kind of kidney failure. It was all too quick the deterioration in her appearance and behavior. I was quick to get her to a vet but the results showed more than we had thought and I had to bring her to an emergency vet. They were so kind but when the doctor told me the treatment that would be done to her, I agreed to then going to reception to find out that I would even have enough money to keep her there for a day of treatment. I paid for blood work, exam fees and medicine just to try and figure a way and she seemed to perk up again and walk her way to her favorite rooms to look out the windows or spy on us watching another extructating episode of White Lines. But she wouldn’t eat. For almost three weeks she wouldn’t eat and I had to force feed her food but she didn't want it. I would just get frustrated and I’m sure she was frustrated with me but why wouldn’t she just eat and take the medicine and be like another girls cat that has had kidney failure for years but the cat was still going? Why?

I knew what was going to happen if I made another appointment. I knew and I didn’t want to know. I just had to make the appointment because what if? What if, despite the week before she was back to her ‘old self’ she got even worse the following week, and couldn’t even walk in a straight line. What if her constant sleeping was just her trying to heal herself? What if I bring her one more time and they have a better option that I can afford and I can bring her home and she could lay right beside me on the bed like she use to and look at me with her beautiful green giant eyes that a kid once said were evil eyes but your are dumb kid, really dumb. What if? That’s not how it goes though. We know in our souls when it’s time to say that horrible and final goodbye. So we push through, kiss them more and hold them close and bring them to the vet. We will wait and listen with tears already shed for the answer we didn’t want. The answer that didn’t fit with the what ifs. And you try to say your goodbye while uttering so many I’m so sorry. This isn’t a mom in hospice or a phone call from the police saying your sibling has passed. It’s nothing close to seeing the numbers of people dying from a virus or you dad getting in an accident and obtaining horrible injuries. Those pains are harsh, and grasping air. Those pains affect the heart, and brain for the rest of your life. Baby is like one in a million pets that people have lost. There will be millions of pets to come and go after my time here. However Baby was mine for a short time, but mine. I love her. I miss her. I feel her but I know she can never be here with me again. Feeling her not in the room with us but still having her body left was eerie. She made me happy, and loved like a familiar to its owner. Her snores by my head will be missed. Her purrs and weight on my chest. Her constant knots in her long hair. Her allowances of my kisses on her head. Goodbye Monica, Goodbye Baby.

END

#personal #personal essay #animals #pets #memior #funny story #sad story #healing #writing #creative writing #essay #artiemoonqueen #writer #relatable #relatability #pet death

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schoolfullofmorons · 4 years

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title: therapy

description: She sighed softly. "It sounds like you may be developing PTSD. Have you ever tried going in for a trauma screening?"

A sort-of sequel to cigars and constellations.

"You know, you probably could've gone to this thing yourself. I mean, haven't you like - I dunno, been to therapy, like, thousands of times at this point?"

Gary tore his eyes away from the window to stare at Pete, who had both his hands on the steering wheel of the car. The shorter boy had his eyes on the road, hardly paying any attention to his ex-friend. Gary took in a sharp breath in the back of his throat as he stared at Pete's collarbone for a long moment, then looked at his face again.

"Yeah. I mean, I guess. But it's been a few months since getting out of the asylum and- and I don't know. I just thought it'd feel less overwhelming with you here." Gary tried to ignore the way his heart clenched. "You didn't have to come."

Pete's face softened, and he glanced at Gary, his brown eyes reassuring. "No, no, it's fine. I was just curious, Gary. It's been so long, I don't really know how you think anymore."

As Pete's eyes returned to the road, Gary turned his face back out the window. This new therapist had been recommended to him by Pete himself, actually, after Gary and him had had a conversation on the dorm couch, Gary telling him all the things that had been going through his head recently. The office was outside of Bullworth by about ten miles. At first a lump had formed in his throat, wondering if it was possible for him to even do this. Gary had never been able to leave Bullworth unless it was with his family, and he knew his father would never approve of him going. It would ruin the family name, or something. Plus, Gary didn't have his licence. But Pete had offered to drive him once he noticed Gary's week-long hesitation, and now here they were, out on the highway in uncomfortable silence.

It was November, and truth was, Gary had been trying his best to avoid having to do this. His experience in Happy Volts Insane Asylum had terrified him. But with senior year came harder classes, not to mention makeup work due to skipping out on his junior year. Plus with his ruined reputation came constant bullying, both from peers and authority. He wasn't even gonna mention college applications. It was exhausting, and then it was overwhelming, and then it was too much.

"I guess I've grown a lot." Gary mumbled to Pete. "Still can't drive, though."

Pete laughed. "Yeah, I remember that horror story you told me about the DMV guy not letting you get your licence in like, what, tenth grade? I think it was sophomore year, anyway, before everything happened. You said you crashed the car."

Gary winced at the story Pete recited back to him. "Aha. Yeah. That was me."

Truth was, he hadn't crashed any car. He had run a red light, and then a stop sign, and his instructor had looked at him and asked for his mental health history. Already showing signs of impulsive behaviors and violent thoughts, they had contacted his current therapist at the time and they had agreed that Gary shouldn't be allowed to drive. Legally. Ever. He was too unwell for it. Gary remembered the disappointment on his mother's face when she had told him he had been declared legally insane, so much so that he wasn't allowed to be a functioning member of society.

Not sane enough to be independent, but sane enough to get punished like someone with normal needs, Gary thought to himself and glanced at Pete. He felt guilty that he had lied, but he wasn't about to apologize now. Apologizing now meant unpacking why he lied in the first place, and unfortunately that reason was that he had ugly cried in his father's convertible on their way home from the DMV. Too embarrassing. Maybe another time.

"Gary, are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, I know I left super early, so maybe we could get something to eat? I dunno man, you just- I just want you feel good about this. About reaching out for help, I mean."

Pete took in a deep breath and Gary turned to watch him as he talked. "Like, you've always kinda tried to reach out but everyone in Bullworth just fucking sucks so you always get shit on for it. Your therapists have always sucked, that asylum probably sucked, it all sucks. Bullworth doesn't care about you and I want to give you better but I need to make sure you're ready to receive better."

"Petey..." Gary mumbled, feeling overwhelmed from the emotions coming off of his best friend. Ex-best friend. Whatever they were now.

"I just want to make sure you're okay. So like, do you want McDonald's or not? I got paid today at my job, we can get a fry or something."

Gary felt a smile growing on his face, and he raised a hand to wipe his mouth, trying to hide it. "Yeah man. A fry would be dope."

Soon enough, Petey had turned into a McDonald's and parked the car. Before he knew it they were standing in line, and Gary was looking over the toys displayed for the kid's meals.

"When I was little I always wanted one of those stupid cars." Gary told Pete, pointing at the little toy truck they were selling. The line shuffled forward slightly, and Pete turned to look at him curiously. "My dad always said it was too childish, though. He wanted me to have books and fancy oldie movies such as Forrest Gump. Watching cartoons was for babies."

"Your dad's lame." Pete shook his head once, then twice. "Who could think that cartoons are bad?"

"I dunno." Gary laughed and bumped Pete's shoulder with his own. "I always, like, okay. Don't laugh at me for this, but I liked letting you pick movies, cause you'd pick Disney cartoons and they made me feel really happy."

"You always did like The Aristocats." Pete mumbled thoughtfully.

"I think I had a thing for Thomas O'Malley, in all honesty. Maybe I'm a closeted furry or something." He grinned and Pete rolled his eyes.

"I think you have a thing for himbos. I mean, you've had a crush on Jimmy for what? Months?" Pete laughed as Gary's face turned red, and he could feel his heart in his throat, thumping hard.

"Jimmy's... not my crush. He doesn't even- I mean, I haven't even- we haven't spoken, Pete." Gary mumbled in a low voice and his eyes burned as Pete looked at him, really looked at him, and then seemed to understand with a soft 'oh' as he looked away and nodded.

"I mean... he did lead you to my car, didn't he?" Pete asked, but didn't look at Gary. "Didn't you speak with him then?"

"Not about sophomore year." Gary groaned. "God, I really fucked up with him. I fucked him up bad, I fucked up our entire relationship and I don't know how to make it up to him."

"Just talk to him, Gary. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"Oh yeah, I guess I'm just supposed to walk up to him and go, 'sorry for almost killing you, James,' and hope he peacefully accepts that." Gary rolled his eyes. "Think logically, Petey. He's gonna be mad - furious, even - and he'll probably yell at me, and frankly, I don't have the mental energy for that right now."

"Well, I'm proud of you for giving it some thought at least." Pete got to the front of the line and put in an order for fries, handing the cashier their money. Gary thought about that for a long moment, about how someone was proud of him despite everything.

When they got back in the car, Gary stole a fry from Pete's hands and laughed at the scandalized look he got in return. He turned on the radio and practically yelled when Nirvana came on, setting to the task of singing Smells Like Teen Spirit at the top of his lungs. Pete laughed at him, then joined him, and the rest of the ride was fun until they stepped out of the car at this new therapist's office and Gary was forced to confront a building he had sworn to himself months ago that he'd never step back into.

Pete let him hold his hand as they walked inside. The waiting room was quiet, almost deathly so, and Gary found that his leg was bouncing with anxious energy before a woman came out and called his name. He was seperated from Pete (who gave him a reassuring smile), and led into the back room.

Gary was traded off to a short, red-haired lady with piercing ocean-blue eyes and a scatter of freckles over her face. She had a tattoo poking out from the sleeve of her jacket, and regarded him with a friendly air that made Gary's head spin. The last time he had had a "nice" therapist - well, let's just say it didn't go so well. As Gary observed her, however, he kept thinking to himself how much she reminded him of Jimmy, and that was a comforting thought in of itself.

"Hello, Gary. My name is Adrian." She closed the door to the small room and led him over to a small couch that he sat down on, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. "What brings you to my office today?"

"Well..." Gary chewed on his bottom lip and looked to the side, his gaze locking on an office plant. It had pretty leaves, and Gary wondered vaguely if he could touch them. "You see, my friend Pete took me to McDonald's today, and I was thinking about my dad. He didn't like for me to get the kid's meals as a child, and he didn't like for me to play with toys or watch cartoons, and I dunno, I think I grew up too fast. And it made me really sad, you know? I just, I've been realizing recently that I don't have to be so angry all the time, I don't have to be on the offensive, but now that I'm relaxing a little everything's been hitting hard."

"I see why you came, then." Adrian's voice was soft. "Parental issues dig deep, I'm glad you can open up about them so effortlessly."

"Yeah. Well, that and I spent twelve months in a mental asylum recently."

Adrian paused, staring at him. He could feel his face burning, and briefly wondered if he had said something wrong before she nodded. "Okay. And what was that like?"

Gary took in a deep breath. "It sucked. Like, really sucked, and now I can't seem to get it out of my head." This isn't going to make any sense, she's going to think you're crazy. "I used to not be afraid of anything, now I feel so scared all the time. It feels like people are watching me, and I'm really- I'm scared someone's going to like, hurt me in my sleep and sometimes I have these really intense nightmares about it and-" Gary looked away as he noticed Adrian's stare, his eyes burning for the second time that day. "Wow, this must all sound really stupid."

"No, no. Keep going." Her voice was reassuring, comforting, and he shifted, nodding.

"Sometimes if people hit me the wrong way I have these really intense flashes like stuff in there is happening again, and then I'll go days and it'll feel like nothing is real... it- it all feels like I'm watching a movie from my own body, like there's- there's stuff in front of me but it's not really there, it's just objects. It feels really strange saying it out loud, but sometimes it comes with these painful headaches and I just don't get it, I'm already on medicine for stuff but-"

"Gary, did something traumatizing happen to you in the asylum?" Adrian was looking at him very seriously, and Gary felt uncomfortable. He nodded. "Can you tell me what it was?" Gary opened his mouth to respond, but then slowly closed it again and shook his head once, twice.

She sighed softly. "It sounds like you may be developing PTSD. Have you ever tried going in for a trauma screening?"

Gary felt his head spin. "PTSD?"

"Yes. It happens when a brain cannot process a painful expierence. Usually comes with flashbacks, nightmares, and in this case," she closed her eyes, "dissociation would mean a special case of PTSD called C-PTSD."

"I..." Gary looked down at his hands. "I had no idea."

Adrian looked down at her clipboard and wrote something down. "I'm going to make you an appointment for a trauma screening, alright? We'll have to see if that's what it is. I can't say for certain with just a one-on-one conversation, but if it comes up that you really do have this, it may be best to get it treated immediately before it progresses so far along that it affects your entire life."

"Does that mean I have to get rediagnosed with everything again? I mean, I'm already diagnosed with-"

"No, no, previous diagnoses don't have to be taken into account just yet. Let's just focus on this for now, okay?" She handed him a paper with an address, date and time on it. He thumbed the paper and then nodded.

"Now, what else has been on your mind? We still have a good fifty minutes before your time is up."

- - -

He hadn't spoken a word to Pete since getting in the car. Pete had tried to talk with him, but once it was clear Gary wasn't saying anything, he had stopped and turned on the radio. Gary stared out the window, watching as the Bullworth sign passed by the car window. His chest tightened.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, man?"

"Well, you see, I have another appointment next week, and I, um..." Gary tripped over his words and Pete was shaking his head.

"No, don't worry about it, man. I'll take you."

"I also have a- a trauma screening-"

"A what?"

Gary went quiet and Pete threw him a glance. "Gary, seriously man, a trauma screening? Why?"

"Adrian thinks I have C-PTSD." Gary fidgeted with the paper in his hand and shrugged as Pete's gasp sounded from beside him. "It's no big deal so please don't worry about it, I just-"

"Gary," Pete was suddenly pulling over the car, and Gary's heart thumped loud in his throat as he put it in park and turned towards him. "PTSD? What the hell happened to you? You've never shown signs of PTSD before, even with your dad."

Gary chewed on his bottom lip and shook his head once, trying to indicate that he didn't want to talk about it, but Pete continued. "Is it the asylum? Did you talk about it with her?"

"N-not a lot..." Gary whispered, stunned by the persistence of Pete's questions. Pete reached over to take his hand and squeezed it.

"Gary, are you okay? I mean like, what happened to you man?"

And then Gary was crying. Pete pulled him into an embrace as loud sobs wracked his entire body, and Pete murmured comforting things in his ear, brushing his fingertips through the taller boy's hair.

His sobs eventually faded into sniffles, and he felt exhaustion weighing down on him heavily. He still didn't speak, but Pete didn't push him too anymore, which made him feel a little guilty. Eventually he offered, "I don't think I can talk about the asylum. I don't think I'll ever be able to."

"It's okay..."

"I don't know what's going on either. You're right. This is new and it's scary and I don't know how to handle it. I promise I'm trying I just..."

"Gary, man, stop. It's okay." Pete sighed softly and squeezed his shoulder when he pulled away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay." Gary wiped his face and they looked at each other. Pete smiled faintly at him and then pulled away to start the car.

By the time they got back to the school, night was beginning to fall. Gary dragged himself out of Pete Kowalski's car, exhausted, and Pete walked around to hold his hand and lead him inside the gates. When they reached the dorm's doors, Gary could see Jimmy sitting on the steps, spinning a yoyo in his hands absentmindedly. Gary stopped abruptly but Pete tugged him along, whispering reassurance.

"Hey Jim." Pete greeted, and Jimmy looked up. He stood, still shorter than Gary, and looked at their hands twined together with an air of curiousity.

"So, how was therapy?" Jimmy finally said, his voice joking yet serious all at once. Gary planned on letting Pete do the talking before Pete pulled his hand away and shrugged.

"Let Gary tell you about it, man. I got stuff to do." Pete stepped around Jimmy and entered the boy's dorm, and suddenly Gary was panicking in front of his ex-friend turned enemy.

"Um." Gary shifted his weight and rubbed a hand over his face. "I-"

"Have you been crying?" Jimmy reached a hand up to touch his face and Gary practically froze, surprise rippling through him. His face burned as Jimmy's fingers brushed over his cheeks.

"I don't see how that's any of your buisness," Gary murmured, but Jimmy only shot him an exasperated look and rolled his eyes. Taking Gary gently by the wrist, he steered the taller boy inside and led him towards Gary's room.

Gary felt his heart in his throat, not knowing how to respond to any of this as his brain took a mental check out. Jimmy let him go once they were by his own dorm room and then shrugged, looking a little lost himself.

"Look man, I know we aren't on the best terms right now, but I can't hold grudges against someone who's like, actually struggling and trying to better themselves past that or whatever. Grudges are tiring anyway. I just want you to know that like, Pete told me you've been struggling and I'll do anything I can to make sure you don't collapse and cause another schoolwide riot, alright? Don't let it get that bad again. I'm not making the same mistakes twice."

Gary didn't know what to say, processing this new information briefly. "Thank you..." He finally said. After a brief moment of silence Jimmy jerked his head in a silent nod, then turned and walked away, leaving Gary on his own again.

#gary smith #jimmy hopkins #pete kowalski #peter kowalski #petey kowalski #canis canem edit #cce #bully scholarship edition #bse #bully

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stone-man-warrior · 4 years

Text

November 18, 2019: 9:24 pm:

I just returned from another socio-terrific shopping experience in Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon.

I went to 6th Street Market.

Walmart

Carl’s Junior

There are still no signs of helpful people, conditions remain the same.

I did not encounter any swordsmen this trip, and that is appreciated.

At 6th Street Market, things were slightly different. Usually, when I go into the store there, at least one terrorist comes in to the store just as I am using the debit machine to pay for my items, that did not happen, and that is the first time that I have not been followed into the store.

The store clerk did not seem to know where any of the items are kept behind the counter, he was a store clerk that I have seen in there at least three times in the past, but when I commented about him not knowing where the items are at, he claimed he was new to that store, and was used to working at the “Why-Not” market on the other side of the river in town. Same owner, he said, owns both stores.

That clerk looked right at me and said: “Did you get him yet?”

I replied: “Yeah, we finally got him, it was expensive and we lost a lot of soldiers”

He said: “yeah, we did”

Then he added something about getting his cut of the “loot”, I don’t recall exactly what he said about “the loot”

I replied: “Later. They are still working on counting”

So, the clerk thought I had been killed, and that I was in disguise.

Someone was hiding under the counter, that person began releasing gas when the clerk figured out that I was bullshitting him. and the one under the counter started to complain about being Hot as his Nitrous tank ignited after I lit my lighter.

The clerk then did the same thing he has done before, he failed to ring up a fifteen dollar item of tobacco, the total was about fifteen dollars less than it should have been. I have played this game before, so I advised that he finish ringing up the items because I don’t like being accused of stealing things.

The clerk thanked me for reminding him to ring up the items. The Canadian terrorists are so friendly and courteous when they are attempting to kill you, that it’s not believable. Had I left without that fifteen dollar item of tobacco paid for and on the receipt that would be a valid reason for the impostor police to pull me over or hassle me in the parking lot.

You have to pay even if it’s the clerks fault, there are so many ways that the terrorists do their terror that I cannot keep track of all of them even though I have been victim to most of the ways before.

So the clerk then did some kind of manipulative magic on the debit machine and was able to steal my PIN Number from my debit card. That is worrying me. If I call the bank to refresh the PIN Number, that is no good either, they are also terrorists at the bank.

I got out of the store without further incident. I am really shocked that no one came in behind me when I started to use the debit machine. Every other time I have been there, I have had to kill someone in defense at the register. One time, I cut a man in two pieces long way with the sword that was being waved around by the clerk there, and the one behind me had a .25 caliber, and shot me in the back with it. Like I have explained, the .25 does not have a barrel, so, it is not powerful enough to kill, and does not even penetrate the leather coat I wear. It does hurt from the impact when it hits my spinal cord injury area.

So at the Walmart, things were especially quiet. There were two terror soldiers that ignited and burst in the store, bit no swords or people trying to poke me with the euthanasia.

I noticed that the Walmart removed the photo finishing department, and they seem to have plugged up the access that was nearby the photo department that leads to the underground tunnel that leads to the Sheriff’s office and the DMV and the Fred Meyer store nearby. I have been told that underground tunnels lead all the way to the Three Rivers Medical Center on Ramsey Avenue, and that is about 5 miles away.

I asked a store clerk terror soldier where a product was at, and that clerk terror soldier then began trying to convince someone nearby that I was wearing heavy Hollywood still make-up and a fake beard. She wanted to convince someone that I was in a disguise. I was not and never have done that. If I did do that, it would work out bad for me, that is what the terrorists do, and If I try that, they will just say I am the only terrorist, and I was wearing the disguise, and the problem will be said to have been solved by the impostor police.

So that is not going to happen.

The most scary thing that happened tonight at the Walmart was at the self checkout when the store clerk in yellow vest approached and asked if I wanted to use an extra empty cart to load my groceries. Had I agreed, I would have been put into the cart that a clerk would have brought. That clerk wanted an excuse to bring an empty cart to out me into.

Then, at the time I was finished with my checkout, and about to use my card to pay, just as I began to find my debit card in my pocket, that is when he came back, while another terror soldier in yellow vest was releasing nitrous gas right near me, and, a small group of fake shoppers also walked past me while fogging the checkout area with nitrous gas. I almost forgot to pay because of the gas, I just put my groceries into the cart, and was ready to leave, when that clerk made sure that he interrupted what I was doing right then. All he did was come and say “have a safe trip home”, and that is another Canadian friendly and courteous way they kill you at the Walmart. I did remember to pay. This small detail is not a small detail. They have killed many hundreds of thousands of Americans with these seemingly non-offensive ways.

That clerk was upset at me because when I declined to use the extra cart he offered, I told him that I did not want to wind up inside the cart, and that I know that he wanted to put me into the cart to take me into that hold they have behind the service counter that is right there across the isle from the checkout I used.

So, there were some small problems arranged for me in traffic with the big-rig trucks and lane changes, but I overcome those easily.

At the Carl’s Junior restaurant, I was shot at by some people who were angry that Suzanna Dietrick is dead. They said I killed Susana Dietrick last night, and shot me with the .25. It bounced off of my coat, and I am sore from the impact.4

Last night, I don’t remember going outside, but the versed gas is such that I could have fought with Mitch and Suzanna, and not remember. I do remember some things that were said, and I do remember that one of the Deb Monroe’s were killed, but I do not recall participating in that at all. I don’t even recall if I went outside of my house even once yesterday, but those people at Carl’s Junior shot me because they said I killed Suzanna yesterday.

Same conditions when I left the house as always: The same people driving the same cars are always on Three Pines Road when I leave my house, and are going in the opposite direction that I am going. One thing they try to do, is make sure that there is a very big truck with a trailer going around “Dead Man’s Curve” on Three Pines near Monument, at the same time that I am going around that blind corner. That corner is favorite place that the terrorists make people crash. and there is always a tow truck nearby to haul away the wreckage quickly. Three Boys Towing is always right there near the freeway waiting for victims.

And that concludes the shopping experience report for today.

End report writing at: 10:24 pm.

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throughtheglassdarkly · 5 years

Text

Missing Pieces, part 6

Welcome back. When last you were here, Day got all schmoopy. Onward.

So, Denny’s happened. Later, we agreed that eating at Denny’s at 8:00 p.m. was somehow less respectable than eating at Denny’s at midnight. But it was a long day and we all could stand to have some greasy comfort food. We all decided to head home, get an early night’s sleep, and then head out to Schenectady in the morning to check out the beer hall. Bella decided to stay over at Pam’s place, letting Duke Lamington know where she was, and everybody else went back to their places. I spent a solid 25 minutes giving Adrian index card updates via Paisley.

As I was about getting ready to go to bed, I noticed a quick flash from across the street. Upstairs, Yova noticed it, too, and we both looked out the window to see a jalopy. Yova quickly got dressed and dashed downstairs, while I was able to see a pretty big guy – not big in the Day or Nash sense, but a heavyweight human man – jump into a car and drive away. It was a beat-up old sedan that looked about as functional as Yova’s crappy pickup. Around this time, I heard banging at the door. When I checked to see who it was, Yova was on the other side. We quickly confirmed with each other that we’d seen what we saw and we quickly decided to get the others and have them bunk in our building for the night. She drove off to get Pam and Bella.

Around this time, Pam heard the banging of a jalopy coming down the street. She went to take a look and saw a figure hop out of the driver’s side of the car. She opened her window and called out, asking him if he needed any help. He was pretty taken aback and stammered out some explanation. “Well, you know, you should get your muffler examined, because there are noise regulations around here,” Pam said. Facing the full fury of the Parent-Teacher Association, the dude took a solid minute to come up with something else to say, but before he could, there was the sound of another car coming. The guy hopped back in and peeled out, but not before Yova was able to snap a picture of his license plate. She got out, hurried up to Pam’s door and explained what we saw. Pam and Bella each packed an overnight bag to come stay with us. On the way back, they picked up Day, who was disgruntled and unhappy and even less talkative than usual.

Yova and I each gave up our beds for the evening so our guests could have them. In Yova’s case, it was because her couch was long enough for her to sleep on comfortably and Pam and Bella were small enough to share her bed. In mine, it was because I felt my bed was more structurally sound than my couch as far as supporting Day. Before we went to bed, Day said that we should try to make a visit to the DMV in the morning to try and track the license plate down.

We all hunkered down for the night and four of the five of us got some sleep. I’d like to say that I was one of them, but the chainsaw noises coming from my room couldn’t be drowned out, no matter how many pillows I pressed against my ears. The next morning, Day was bright-eyed and bushy tailed, coming out of my room and asking what was for breakfast. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and said, “You know, the first eight times or so, I thought that it was just head-on collisions between tractor-trailers on the street outside. How much freaking coke did you snort to fuck up your septum that badly?” “It wasn’t coke, it’s sleep apnea! And I had a rough day, I needed some me time!” he retorted. After a few moments of dead silence, I managed to get out, “That lotion is for my feet. Not. Nefarious. Purposes.” “And yet, it smells like lilacs,” Day said. I got off the couch, stomped over to the fridge and slapped a box of Eggos on the counter. “All right! You got peanut butter and jelly, too?” he asked. I pointed to the pantry and fridge and went off to take a shower.

Upstairs, Yova was about to go out and start her morning workout routine, only to discover that Pam was up early and had already made breakfast for her, some Russian dish involving almost-stale bread. Yova told me later that it was something her mom used to make, which stopped her dead in her tracks from going to the gym. Day went upstairs for second breakfast and Pam whipped up some eggs and bacon for him and some blueberry pancakes for Bella. I spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning up the mess in my kitchen before I met the rest of them downstairs.

We hightailed it over to the Albany County DMV. Thankfully, we got there early enough to where there wasn’t too long of a wait. A Mrs. Pepperpot type person called Day up to her window. They bantered for a minute with Day first trying to be friendly (it worked about as well as you think it did), and then leaned on her with the bad-cop routine. She rolled her eyes and finally agreed to enter the license number, at which point her eyebrow raised. She leaned on her elbows and told Day, “I really don’t have time to deal with some guy’s bullshit today. The queue isn’t going to get any shorter and my lunch break is four hours off. I’ll throw you a bone, just get out of here and let me do my job. Now, I could tell you who owns the vehicle, but it’s not going to do you much good, because this vehicle was reported stolen two weeks ago.” He asked her where it was stolen from and she told him it was from a neighborhood up in Amsterdam, about thirty minutes east.

While they were going on about this, I sat in the waiting area, completely traumatized and telling the others about the mess that was left. “He snored like a drunk grizzly,” I said. “Well, that’s not something he could control,” Pam said. “He dragged the Eggos through my peanut butter and jelly,” I said. “I mean, in terms of sins, that’s not a mortal one,” Yova said. Then I looked up at them and said, “And you don’t even want to know what I found in the wastebasket next to my bed.” That led to dead silence. “That bottle of lotion was three quarters full yesterday. Now it’s half full,” I said. “Oh. We’re going to have to get rid of your bed now,” Bella said.

Day came back over with the information he’d gotten and we traipsed out to Amsterdam, me giving the thousand-yard stare all the while. When we pulled up to the street where the car had been taken from, we realized that it wasn’t exactly an affluent neighborhood, but certainly not a bad part of town. It kind of reminded me of the working class neighborhood I grew up in. Day, unwisely, decided to take the lead on the investigation and scouted around, looking for someone to ask for info.

Eventually, he spotted a pair of hausfraus having a chat over their fences and he went up to talk to them. From the sight of their faces, it was obvious they had absolutely no idea what to say to the giant of a man standing before them, but eventually one of them greeted him. He started asking questions about the missing car, telling them he was a PI, and trying to be friendly. I don’t mean to drag the guy (too much) but friendly isn’t exactly his strong suit. They were not interested in the conversation at all, but one of them did let slip that there was another PI asking around about the same thing, a woman. “I think you should probably go talk to the police,” one of them said, and then they turned back to each other and continued their conversation. Yep. He got Karened.

Fortunately for our investigation, we had a secret weapon of our own: a fully-fledged by-God member of the Parent-Teacher Association. While Day sulked in the car, Pam walked up a few minutes later, asking the women if she could talk to them about the local school district and how her family was planning to move to the area. They were much more receptive to Pam and they started telling her each and every gossip about the area. When Pam asked about crime, they said that the neighborhood was usually pretty safe, except for the strange car robbery a couple of weeks past. Pam managed to out-Karen the Karens as she led them into conversation, learning about how nobody was that sorry to see Mr. Jeffers’s car go because it was a real piece of junk. They stage-whispered to her about how they wondered if there was a possibility of drugs and whether Mr. Jeffers might have smoked five whole marijuanas.

Once we knew whose car had been stolen, we dropped Day and Bella off to talk to Mr. Jeffers while the other three of us went to go talk to the po-po. Day started asking Mr. Jeffers questions using the same techniques that got him nowhere with the Karens and Bella mercifully interrupted, turning out the cutesy act, batting her eyes, and asking Mr. Jeffers if they could get some info from him to help find his car. He was disarmed and agreed to tell them what he knew, what wasn’t much. He wasn’t all that upset that the car was stolen – the insurance company was already processing a claim and he was going to get a better car out of the deal. He was able to tell them that there were a ton of cigarette butts all over his driveway, but aside from that, he didn’t see anything because he wasn’t home when the car was stolen.

Pam, Yova, and I went to the police station, which was pretty small, only covering a couple of neighborhoods. Yova took the lead with the receptionist, telling her she needed to make a report with a detective about a man taking pictures of her through her apartment window (not, technically, a lie). The officer came out and Yova gave him her report, but gave him a phony address from nearby. When she gave him the info for the car, he mentions that an Albany PD officer came through, asking about the same info. Yova asked for her contact info and he gave her card. The officer’s name was Brenda Break. When Yova tried to call, the voice mailbox was full, so we decided to swing by the precinct on our way back to Albany.

“So, Brenda Break,” I said when we got back in the car. “Her parents must have hated her.” “I wonder what her middle name is?” Pam asked. “Probably Beatrix. Brenda Beatrix Break,” I said. “Ooh. Or Bethany. Brenda Bethany Break,” Yova said. “Brenda Bridget Break?” Pam asked. “Brenda Barbie Break?” I asked. “Brenda Brianna Break?” Yova asked. “Brenda Belinda Break?” I asked.

You get the picture. Point is, we were still coming up with middle names for her when we picked Day and Bella up. He looked kind of – surprised? Taken aback? – when he heard what we were saying and we explained that we were trying to figure out what the middle name of the officer from Albany PD who was looking into the car was. He went pale when we said we were going to go speak with her and started stammering out some obvious lies about why he couldn’t come along. We saw right through that and asked him what was up. He let out a long sigh and came clean about it: Brenda was his old partner on the force, someone who he didn’t always get along with but who he had a mutual respect for.

It was at this point that Yova had a horrible realization and she turned to me. “Derek, didn’t you say the guy who you saw out your window was on the heavier side?” “Yeah,” I said. “Bigger dude, not like Day, but hu – ohhhhhhhhhhh,” I said, realization dawning on me as well. “What? What is it?” Day asked. Yova and I looked at each other, then at him. “Day… do you think maybe the guy who stole this car was…” “Was who?” he asked. “Your Fetch,” Yova and I said in unison. He slumped against the side of the car. “And maybe that’s why Brenda’s looking into it, because she thinks it’s you?” Yova asked. Day didn’t have much to say to that. “Listen, if you want, we can drop you off back at your apartment. You don’t have to come see her if you don’t want,” Pam said. Day took a minute to respond, then nodded, saying that he’d rather not. We dropped him at his place and agreed we’d pick him up when it was time to go to Schenectady.

As we pulled away from his apartment, I said, “Okay, I wasn’t going to say it when he was in the car, but were they seriously Day and Break?” “You see, I was thinking that, too…” Yova trailed off. “I mean, it could have been worse,” I said. “She could have been Nancy Night.” And with that, we drove off to speak to the po-po for the second time that day.

Albany PD was considerably bigger and busier than the Amsterdam PD. There was a secretary at the front desk who somehow managed to look both stressed and bored at the same time. Yova took lead as usual and asked him about Officer Break, saying that she had information about a case she was handling. He agreed to go get her and disappeared down the hall. When Brenda came down the hall, I was surprised to see she was much younger than I was expecting, and attractive. Kind of like a battle-hardened, corn-fed Emma Stone.

When she saw us, she stopped in her tracks and told the secretary that she was going to step out for a few minutes. She asked us what information we had for her and Yova gave her the cliffs notes. Brenda held the door for us and led us down the hall to an out-of-the-way room. Once she got us down the hall, she started acting positively giddy, saying, “Oh, man, this is so great. I’ve been trying to talk to some of you guys for so long, and you always run from me. But now you’re here! This is great! This is awesome!” The four of us looked at each other, clearly not understanding. But then she started dropping hints that she could see what we really are.

“Wait, so… what do you see me as?” Yova asked. “You’ve got this crazy bright hair and eyes, it looks like starlight and nebulas,” Brenda said. Yova pointed at me and said, “And does he have feathers?” “Oh, yeah. A shit-ton of feathers,” Brenda said. I bristled a little at this and said, “I don’t have that many feathers…” Brenda told us that a little more than two years ago, she’d suddenly started being able to see changelings (she obviously didn’t know what we were, but from what she was describing, it was clearly changelings).

I asked her when she was able to start seeing us, and if it was around May 2015. “A little later than that,” she said. “I had this partner – big, gruff guy. And he used to wear the most godawful aftershave. Smelled horrible. He disappeared and… this one day, I would swear I could smell that aftershave. I went out my front door, smelling it. Only it wasn’t my front yard. It was this weird brambly maze, I didn’t recognize it. But I kept going after that scent.”

She told us that eventually she made her way through the Hedge (not that she knew it was the Hedge) and found her way out at a Little League field a few minutes from her house. And ever since then, she was able to see things that she hadn’t before. This, as you might guess, left us all completely nonplussed. She wasn’t threatening or anything – she seemed completely thrilled to be talking to some of us. “You have to understand, we’re a skittish lot,” Yova told her. “If someone we don’t recognize comes running full on at us, our first instinct is to bolt.”

Brenda wanted to talk with us at length about what we were. As much as we realized we probably had to do this, none of us were comfortable to keep going with that conversation in the precinct. She told us that she had a lunch break coming up and we agreed to meet with her at a nearby restaurant.

And that’ll about do it for this week’s installment. Next time: brunch with Brenda! And other shenanigans. Until then, be safe, and may you always keep your Bath & Body Works under lock and key.

#Changeling: The Lost #changeling #ctl #recap #ic #that bottle cost me 14 dollars

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outhereperusing · 5 years

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LIMA TAKE A SELFIE: WE ARE YOUNG

Let me just start off by saying that Lima is a real city. What I mean by this is that Lima is always awake and people are constantly on the move. My two weeks in Lima were full of bus rides, beaches, museums, good food, and nightlife. It was nice being in a big city and feeling like my California self before returning back to Cusco and Andahuaylillas. The quick flight from Cusco to Lima brought me closer to the Pacific coast and feeling at home. I remember being in the taxi from the Lima airport to the Colegio de la Inmaculada, which is the Jesuit high school we were staying at, and freaking out because I could see the ocean. In addition to the seeing the oceanview, we drove through Miraflores and Barranco, two districts known for their nightlife, shopping, restaurants, and beaches. Driving through the different districts reminded me of San Francisco and the variety of districts a city could have. Being back in a city for two weeks excited me for the possibility of trying new things and feeling a sense of normalcy.

Lima take a selfie

Tonight

We are young

So let's set the world on fire

We can burn brighter

Than the sun

(Fun.)

After picking up our keys at the Inmaculada one of the first things we did was check out their zoo. The second year volunteers had told us about the zoo, but I was not expecting the diversity of animals on this high school campus. The first animal I saw when walking on their campus were deer, and I mean a whole herd of deer. The deer were so friendly that they would come up to the fence, sniff us, and let us pet them before moving onto something else. When it felt like the deer had enough of my excitement we settled into our rooms and refueled with some aji de atun, which is a Peruvian dish made from an aji pepper cream sauce with tuna and served over rice, before checking out the rest of the zoo. The high school’s zoo has chickens, goats, an emu, macaws, parrots that talk, a llama, bears, jaguars, panthers, a monkey, and capybaras.

All the animals

In addition to the zoo, the high school had orchards of pecans, avocados, chirimoya, and oranges. Driving through the orchards was one of my favorite things because it led to a panoramic view of Lima. At the top of the orchard, I saw the juxtaposition of desert, ocean, and mountains. I also saw how socioeconomic status’ differ between the Inmaculada and the communities surrounding it. The Inmaculada is a upper-middle class Jesuit high school surrounded by a gate and has security around the clock, while the community behind it is on the come up. Seeing this difference in status in the community I was staying at was just the beginning of noticing socioeconomic status and privilege in Lima.

Views of Lima

Our main purpose of going to Lima was to begin the process of changing our visa status. On New Year’s Eve, my fellow first year volunteer and I went to Interpol to ask what we would need to start the process. Finding out that we would need some paperwork from two different banks, we walked from Interpol to the banks and back. When we returned to Interpol, we got in line, but when we said that we were Americans they took us out of the line and brought us to a room to fill out paperwork, get fingerprinted, and receive a dental exam. We were at Interpol for a total of two hours, when it seemed that other people were going to be there all day. Our American citizenship bumped us up to the top of Interpol’s priority. While this is something that I enjoyed because Interpol reminded me a lot of the DMV and airport security screenings, I did not appreciate the looks other people were giving us when we were pulled to the front. After we finished our paperwork we were given an envelope to be mailed back to the US for a FBI background search and allowed to leave. Finishing the morning at Interpol, we made the walk home with pit stops at starbucks for some wifi, the US Embassy, and a mall. With our work at Interpol done in one day, we had the rest of our two weeks to have fun and explore Lima. I knew I wanted to go to as many beaches as possible and check out the club scene in Lima. When planning the rest of our two weeks we prioritized one activity per day to cross off things on both of our bucket lists. After consulting travel books about Peru, our second year JV’s, the Jesuits, and people we knew who have visited Peru we had a jam-packed schedule of things we wanted to see and do.

Tonight

We are young

So let's set the world on fire

We can burn brighter

Than the sun

(Fun.)

The following day we went into Miraflores to start crossing things off our bucket lists. We walked through Kennedy Park, which has cats roaming freely. I was living my dream in this park because of how many cats there were! These cats were the most photogenic cats I have seen in Peru, and because they are so accustomed to people, they did not mind me getting close to them to get the perfect picture. This park quickly became one of my favorite places and was an easy landmark to orient ourselves in Lima. Cats quickly became a highlight of my trip in Lima. Everytime I would see one I would be instantly happy because they reminded me of my cats at home. One cat in particular takes the honor of being Peruvian Harry. Harry is my Brother’s fluffy one year old black and white cat that I love so much. In college, I would FaceTime my Brother so my roomates and I could see Harry as a kitten. Now in Peru, I Snap-Video-Chat Harry and get pictures of him from my Mom. When we went to the Museo Larco, which is Peru’s premier museum for Andean art, I saw Peruvian Harry and I was in love! We went to this museum for the art, but after seeing Peruvian Harry I only wanted to be there for the cat. This cat looked exactly like Harry except for his nose, American Harry has a pink nose, while Peruvian Harry has a black nose. Seeing a cat that looks so similar to Harry makes my Peru experience easier. It reminds me that there are things here that remind me of home.

Peruvian Harry

One of the things that really made me feel at home was the nightlife. During college I would go out with my friends on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights just to dance around, sing, and overall have a good time. The clubs were places that I felt most like myself and totally free. In Lima I automatically felt like myself because I was back in a city, but I wanted that extra feeling of over-the-top freedom. We went to the club on our second Friday night in Lima, and bounced from two different clubs before finding the best one. What made our final club the best was that it was a smaller venue, had a centralized dance floor, played really good music, had a ton of young people, and there was no cover charge. That night I danced like nobody was watching and sang to all of the songs! That’s how I knew that this club was the best–every song was a sing-a-long. Going to the clubs felt like all of the times I went out with my friends. It felt like they could have been there even though they are a continent away. Feeling like my friends, family, and home are close to me is all that I want while in Peru.

Pre-clubbing photoshoot

Another home that I got to visit was the beach. I was lucky enough to go to the beach a bunch of times while in Lima! I remember walking through Miraflores to get to the beach and feeling a sense of bliss because it was something familiar. The mix of the salty air with the sound of the waves brought me back to San Francisco and being home. I was content to sit and watch the waves roll by, surfers do their thing, and the paragliders soar for hours. When sitting on the sand and getting into the ocean all I could think was that these are the same waters that I have back home. Being on the Pacific Ocean made me feel close to everyone in the states. Because of this, I started to collect sand from the beaches I have been to in Peru. In my room in Anda, I have three different jars of sand and a pile of rocks from Peruvian beaches to remind me that home is not as far away as I think it is. Looking at them on my windowsill reminds me that I am slowly creating a new home here in Peru, while my home a half a world away is still within reach. My heart may be in the United States, but with my feet in Peru I am establishing a new normal that is both exciting and challenging. I can only imagine what I will be feeling about my new home in the many months that are to come.

Home

#peru #lima

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heliumlitter5 · 2 years

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Enhance Your Taxi Cab With These Tips

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Yellow Cab of Prince William County strives to make your ordering options as versatile as your wants. Nonetheless, in a flip of occasions, Uber is now teaming up with Conventional Yellow Taxi Cabs in a really unlikely… The TLC licenses and units standards for the brand new York City’s various taxi and for-hire vehicle industries. Throughout these processes, the car is updated in TLC’s system and is registered with NYS DMV at the TLC. best deal cab service & Olufsen sound system are both further options as effectively. The agency additionally licenses greater than 100,000 vehicles, in addition to over 1,000 for-hire automobile bases, in keeping with its 2016 annual report. It is common for TLC-licensed drivers to work for several companies, as well as in different business segments. The car rental companies, whereas giving Self-Driven Automobiles on rent, don't present all the paperwork in unique. Return the auto after hours and keep away from the second-day rental as prolonged as it's returned earlier than they open the following day. A golden weight-reduction plan of fried foods will solely add calories to your day and contributes to an unhealthy journey. During your appointment with TLC’s DMV, your automobile info will likely be added to the TLC and DMV techniques.

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The aim of the VERZO Technology, LLC is to enter the smartphone market, develop and broaden the product base and change into publicly traded firm on the American inventory alternate. They could challenge a reference number for the complaint, which will likely be essential to have readily available later. Authorities agencies, universities, non-governmental organizations, and other establishments have all been leveraging the online for a larger part of the last twenty-5 years, and people who're additional alongside of their journey have realized that APIs are essential to their mission as properly.. The outcomes: Last yr, the town agreed to pay the McClain family $15 million to settle the civil rights lawsuit the family filed after his loss of life. The dying knight's skeletal flying mount became a spectral griffin. If new Medallion plates are required: FS-6 (motorcar receipt for the outdated plates), or a Notice of Violation from the NYPD or TLC, and $25.00 fee paid by Money Order, Visa, Master Card, AMEX, or Discover. Receive a TLC license plate from the brand new York State Division of Motor Vehicles.

#best deal cab service

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futuremusicmoguls · 6 years

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Farwell....for now

Wow...now that I actually sit here and even think about what I am about to type. Time went by fast. I literally feel like I’m ready to take on the world with the stuff I learned from FMM.

Over the past 3 months, I’ve gained knowledge the music industry, I have gained friends that I will have for life. It's crazy how fast we got close in that short of time. In the beginning, it’s going to be very weird. You might think “how am I going to get along with these people that I don’t even know?” “How are we going to last in these next 3 months?” Simple. Be. Your. Self. This program is of open arms. All the staff is friendly, nice, and warming. During, this program don’t be afraid to be wrong. I was wrong a lot of times during my process but I learned from my failures of being wrong. Then when I keep working I began to get things right. Also, you always have help from Marat, Nicole and any of the TAs.

To the TAs mannnnn, you guys are the bomb.com. Muriel, you are my DMV sista, you are soooo great at what you do. I can’t wait to hear some new music from you and see you shine. Devon, you are the most down to earth girl I ever knew. Thank you for all of your mixing help and ears to educate me in everything you have learned over your career. (When I come back to NY I’m coming over for food) Much appreciated :). Federico, with the most laid back personality of the TAs lololololol. You were very helpful in the beginning of the class teaching us how to work the studio and even gave the education behind it all. Thanks bro. Ethan, my main man (we lowkey made a hit). Thank you so much for making time for me outside of FMM and teaching how to better myself with Maschine. I appreciate and love you all. You guys are the best. Hopefully y’all graduate. Invite me to the grad party pls :))))

Now to my FMM 2018 colleagues/friends, I love you all. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. (I did most of my venting on IG, follow me @jae.greatness to see more lol) I never ever met a group of talented people in my life before. You guys are my best friends now. I had fun these past 3 months jamming, bonding, making music with you. It’s been a blast. You all have great futures ahead of you. We still have much to learn. But throughout these 3 months hopefully, you do not forget me lol. Also, keep grinding with everything you are passionate about forget what everyone else says. No matter how uncomfortable or stupid it may seem. Do what you think is best for you. I hope we can work more in the future so we all can eat lol. But This is not a goodbye, more of a...see you later.

Before I end this as well, I know Marat knows this already but I really appreciate you and staff picking me for this year's class of FMM. Everything is meant for a reason but I just wanted to remind you of how much you are loved and appreciated. Thank you.

#JaelanMitchell #farewell

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shirlleycoyle · 5 years

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Apple Music’s Excel Graveyard: Where Your Favorite Songs Go to Die

When it first launched in 2015, Apple’s music streaming service was painted by some as slow to adapt and cluttered. After all, Spotify’s streaming platform debuted seven years earlier, providing a wide-spanning, free(ish) service with social engagement features that Apple Music lacked.

Now, four years later, the dust has settled and Apple Music is no longer memed to death. In fact, according to Statista, 8 percent of all U.S. consumers say they employ the service monthly and over 60 million subscribers use the platform.

Like many of those users, when I’m particularly into a song and want to let the algorithm know that I’d like to hear more similar music, I tap the “heart” symbol from a drop-down menu. I recently realized I’ve been unconsciously collecting these “hearted” songs for years, and that it would be neat to see all my favorite songs in one place. That’s how so many other apps and internet services work. You “heart” a tweet and you can go to the “Likes” tab on Twitter at any time to find it later. Similarly, “hearting” a song on Spotify siphons it into a playlist titled Favorites.

Surely it’d be just as easy with Apple Music, right? Sadly, as I found out, getting a list of your favorite songs on Apple’s streaming service is a confoundingly difficult and time consuming process.

A cursory Google search reveals that there is no piece-of-cake way to find all your “hearted” songs. Surprisingly, these “hearted” gems don’t automatically filter into a playlist, nor can they be compiled and sent to users in a quick email—in fact, they aren’t stored on the app at all. So, how can we find our favorite songs on Apple Music?

What began as a fleeting thought led me down a rabbit hole of answer forums. An initial route you might take is to create a Smart Playlist on iTunes desktop app with settings including only Loved songs. This is supposed to funnel “hearted” songs into one place. However, this doesn’t work on Apple Music mobile, and when I attempted it, only included five of my “hearted” songs.

But there’s another way, and rather than imposing the DMV-like process of sourcing the answer on anyone else, I’ll share my findings:

First, go to https://privacy.apple.com and sign in with your Apple ID.

Input the two-factor authentication code that will pop up on your phone or computer (to confirm it’s you and not some random).

Click “Request a copy of your data” under the header “Get a copy of your data.”

Select the first list option called “Apple Media Services information” (AKA, everything you do on Apple Music).

Choose 1GB file size, which lets you download the most data, and click “Complete request”.

Wait a week. Go about your daily routine, “heart” some more songs, watch some Netflix originals, learn to cook a consommé.

Receive a confirmation email from Apple music, which will prompt you to click through to your privacy portal once again to download a .Zip file.

This .Zip file, called “Apple Media Services Information” will house three similarly-named folders inside it, like a Russian nesting doll. Click the one that is opaquely named “Apple_Media_Services.”

Now click “Apple Music Activity” – this will take you to a of .csv files, one of which is named “Apple Music Likes and Dislikes.csv.” Click that one.

Finally, the long-awaited creature emerges from its chrysalis:

Yep, that’s it—no gloss, no graphics, no sleek interface. A simple gridded spreadsheet is your prize for navigating what might feel like a poorly constructed video game mission. For further context, I reached out to Apple, but did not receive a reply. This is an obtuse process because it’s not implemented in the usual, user-friendly way Apple usually implements features in its app. Apple started offering this information before the implementation of GDPR, a European law put in place last year, which, among other things, allows users to see what data companies collected on them.

Despite my initial annoyance, scrolling through the sheet transported me to simpler times. The bare-bones space acts as a refreshing reminder that big tech can’t necessarily anticipate all user needs and adjust accordingly. Some processes are still just spreadsheets clunkily hiding in a dimly-lit back room.

The “hearted” songs graveyard brings to mind the early days of iTunes, or even torrenting tools like LimeWire and Kazaa. These clunky early services forced users to stare expectantly at torrent speeds for hours, mirroring the week-long wait for Apple Music’s “hearted” songs. Only, back then, you’d find out you unintentionally downloaded an episode of a Ukranian TV show instead of the intended album.

The manual retrieval of the “hearted” spreadsheet acts as a reminder that no matter how fast big tech paddles under the surface to keep up with user needs, there are still gaps. This incompleteness provides the nostalgia-tinged comfort that not everything can be automated, wrapped neatly in a bow, shipped to an inbox in a millisecond. At least, not yet.

Apple Music’s Excel Graveyard: Where Your Favorite Songs Go to Die syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[RF] The Appraisal

Hello, thank you for deciding to read. I hope you enjoy. It is a bit longer than other posts I've seen on here FYI.

The Appraisal

(Short Story)

Part 1: The Tootsie Incident

During his first term in office, John Mueller, the 47th President of the United States was set up to have a date with Russian supermodel Anastasia Petrovksi. They were seen together on Valentine's Day at the Russian Tea Room in New York, right next to Carnegie Hall. The following day the headline in the New York Daily News exposed “The Tootsie Incident” as referenced by the famous 80’s movie. Ms. Anastasia Petrovksi had once been Mr. Igor Smirnov. The youngest male ever recorded to have a sex change, Mr. Smirnov became Anastasia at the age of thirteen. In the Presidents defense, he claimed to have never known Ms. Petrovski was formerly a man. Regardless of that truth, the press had a field day that made Watergate seem like the latest TMZ gossip.

The outrage amongst citizens and paranoid politicians led to the formation of The Human Appraisal Committee (HAC), who now provided oversight over the general public and businesses alike. For those of you who don't know about the HAC, it is a government organization that ensures all of its citizens have accurate online profiles based on actual facts surrounding their identity.

After the "Tootsie Incident,” the government warned that misrepresentation with social media was a threat to national security. Petrovski was one of millions of misleading online profiles, and so in the best interests of the people, facebook and all other platforms were outlawed or at least ran through the HAC.

At the age of twenty-two years old, every citizen would enter the system, having their appraisal with objective facts, such as their education, ethnicity, net worth, and of course profile picture. The HAC was more than just a way to connect, it was an evaluation of your decisions and your assessed value as a citizen, your social ranking. In the beginning, the government’s aim was to make sure its people felt safe, though they quickly realized they could cash in on everyones obsessive nature with social media.

As Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh stated before enacting the legislation, “The American people deserve to know the truth!” And so now they could get that truth.

At the right price of course.

…..

This brings us to September 13, 2028, Chase McLeary’s 23rd birthday. He carefully placed the red sticker across the pocket of his new blue blazer. The sticker red Hello!, and underneath it read 6747 written in permanent marker. Tossing the sticker’s paper backing into a trash bin, Chase entered a large room that looked just like the DMV but was actually The Human Appraisal Committee’s office for his district of Minnetonka, a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Chase took an empty seat near a woman dressed in white and gold. She reminded him of a Greek Goddess with all her necklaces and bracelets. Like most people on the day of their appraisal, she was dressed to impress. Chase himself had spent over $150 dollars for a stylist to groom him for today, which was much more planned than last year where he wore his green satin suit from prom and mop top hair cut.

Leaning over to the woman, he inquired with a friendly whisper.

“Hey, hows it going today?”

In that moment, the woman was on her phone, scrolling online through the “newest and hottest seasonal wear for cats.” Chase had obviously interrupted, which was apparent by the sneer she gave him. With her drawn on eyebrow rising, she assessed Chase top to bottom like a stray dog. Accessing the HAC phone application, she pointed her camera at his face, to bring up his profile. After a quick read through, the woman stood up, and moved two seats away.

Chase was obviously of no interest to her.

This didn’t bother him too much though, most people these days would divide themselves based on their social ranking. Looking at the hundred or so seats available in the room, more than half the seats were available, and no one was sitting next to each other.

Twiddling his thumbs, Chase decided it might be better to keep to himself until after his appraisal to avoid any further embarrassment.

Focusing his attention on the hands of the large old circular clock at the front of the room, Chase supposed he had about an hour before he’d be out of there. Then as fate would have it, the most beautiful woman Chase had ever seen sat down right in front of him. Her tight black dress fit around her body like an extra layer of skin. Chase could feel that people behind him had already begun taking pictures of her as she walked, to bring up her profile.

Chase thought he might be in love.

Part 2: The Beautiful Gloria Dominguez

Moments of silence, interrupted only by the ticking of the old fashioned clock in the room made Chase McLeary feel anxious. He could not avoid the perfume from the woman he was head over heels for. First her beautiful physic, now her smell had caught his lust, like blood to a shark in the water. Getting up to get a drink from the metal fountain at the front of the room, Chase pulled his phone out at his hip and began taking picture surreptitiously in the woman’s direction. All he would need is one decent image, for the facial recognition technology to work.

After a dozen attempts, Chase felt confident that he got one good shot, and returned back to his seat to pull up her HAC profile. He successfully accessed her first page which showed the following:

Name: Gloria Dominguez:

Age: 28 years old,

Ethnicity: Italian & Spanish,

Hometown Minnetonka Minnesota

Education Level: Bachelors in Communications, University of Miami

Profile Picture: Gloria wearing a tight blue dress.

“Pay to Access More Information Here”

Reading the final words on her account meant one thing, Gloria ranked higher than Chase in value. Unless you were friends or family through the HAC, the government required an Evaluation Match between strangers to access more personal information such as her occupation, the city she currently lived in, and of course more pictures. Chase had never paid to access a persons profile before, so he decided he would approach Gloria the old fashioned way through face to face conversation.

…..

Then, just as he was contemplating his opening line, the voice of god entered the room which was actually the administrator working at the front of the building.

“6739, please come to room 101” projected out through the intercom.

It was for the woman in white and gold, as she stood up only a few feet away. She began her strut towards the door at the front of the room, directly in front of them both. Her jewelry must have weighed a lot, as with every step she took it seemed to take an inordinate amount of energy. Chase swore he heard a chuckle from Gloria, and saw this as an opportune moment.

“Who invited Cleopatra to the party?” he joked in Gloria’s direction a little too loudly.

Like a harpoon out of a spear gun, his words reached the old woman right as she was about to enter the Appraiser’s office. Instead of entering, she turned around, and scanned the crowd until she found her assailant who was ripening up like a tomato.

Melting away in his seat, Chase was unsure how to recover. He was holding his breath, waiting on Gloria’s response when his body produced a pocket of gas which had been held up in his stomach for the last half hour. The result was a loud croak that made Gloria jump from her seat.

“Ay dios mio” she said in Spanish or (“oh my god”)

With her hand over her heart, Gloria turned around and said something in Spanish to Chase that he didn’t understand. His head hanging low in embarrassment, retreated to his original idea of “keeping to himself.”

….

Defeated from his feeble attempts at conversation, Chase struggled to located a positive thought in his head. He reminded himself that very soon he would receive the good news of his new recorded value for the 2029 year.

Burying himself in his work, Chase exceeded the expectations of everyone in his office in 2028, making over $85,000 in his first year. Sacrificing his time was necessary as his mom had gotten sick, and his father was struggling to pay off his little sisters college tuition. Every month, Chase would wire $1,000 to the University of Minnesota to lessen the burden on everyone.

Though he felt empowered by helping, he sometimes compared and thought negatively when he saw people he went to school with receiving praise and recognition for they’re HAC rating. In one case, there was Stephen Oleander who barely graduated college, but still managed to be in the top 80% because of money his grandfather had left him.

In relation to the rest of the United States Chase was valued at 73%. This put him the Evaluation Bracket of anyone between 0-74%. Receiving that score post college made 2028 tough, underestimating the impact an HAC profile could have in certain social circles. It wasn’t easy to make or retain friends when before he had a chance to talk, someone was already judging him for his C-rating.

Chase pondered this, and began to wonder exactly how much higher Gloria might rank than him. Opening up the HAC application, his hand hovered over the “pay to access more information” button.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the woman in front of him and decided that he would approach her after the appraisal. Hopefully after his increase, they would be a match after all?

Then, just as he was about to close his phone, a women tapped him on his shoulder, the result was a loud authoritative voice to projecting through his phone. He had clicked the button.

“Please say Yes or No, if you would like to pay to access Gloria Dominguez's HAC Profile"

Immediately Chase tried to exit out of the application, but accidentally turned the volume up and so the voice repeated in its automated response.

“Are you sure you would not like to access Gloria Dominguez’s profile, please say yes or no.”

There were giggles and whispers throughout the room, and Chase felt worse than he did earlier. Gloria only a few feet away had overheard the response, but was ignoring it. In truth, she was used to this kind of thing and learned it was better to just pay no mind than get in the middle of it. Also, her english was broken, so she willing to “play stupid” rather than force a conversation like she had done in previous incidences.

“I am so sorry sir.” Apologized the person who had caused the catastrophe.

At a glance, Chase noticed the woman over his shoulder. She was older and seemed a bit underdressed, wearing a white blouse, jeans, and flats. Her hair was blonde, with streaks of grey in parts. If Chase were not wearing his emotions on his sleeve in that moment, he would have saw that her blue eyes were friendly and sincere.

His angst and fear however had caused him to instead mumble weakly.

“It's okay, it's okay” half talking to her, and half to himself.

Then, the voice of god broke into the room again.

“6747, please come to room 109”

Chase stood up, and straightened himself out before walking towards the left side of the waiting room. The woman watched him move across the room from a distance, she felt quite horrible for what happened. If Chase were to have pulled out a picture of her HAC profile, he would have seen her name was Sasha. She was in the top 90% in the United States.

Part 3: Meet your future self

Opening the door, Chase walked into a room that was about the size of a two car garage. The walls were a cream color, and empty except for The Human Appraisal Committee logo and Minnesota State flag. The logo consisted of large block letters leading to a percentage symbol, sort of like this :

THE HUMAN APPRAISAL COMMITTEE%

Sitting down at the large desk, Chase folded his hands in his lap. There was the same model computer monitor from last year where he would see his score. Last year he remembered, seeing 0 net income, as well as the $20,000 he owed in student loans, now all paid for.

Across from him sat his appraiser for this year.

"Hello Chase, I'm Julie I'll be taking care of you today”

Julie just turned 30 years old. She had worked her way up through the HAC after college, and didn’t disappoint, given her background in sales, growing up working on a used car lot. On the shelf behind her, Chase saw a number of awards from 2025-2027, they each read Top Appraiser of the Year for Minnesota. These were in reference to the commission she would make by selling people back privileged information only the government had access to.

Her tactics were simple: Press on the insecurities of everyone in the most genuine empathetic way possible, and sell them back data behind their life problems.

“So would you like your pictures before or after the news, sweetheart?”

“Could we do after?” Chase answered with a smile.

Julie was attractive. She wore a denim dress and high heels. Her dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin and freckles gave her an authentic look. Chase wondered what her percentage might be.

“Not a problem Chase, we’ll get you taken care of right away” Julie began to run the most updated version of their algorithm, the HAC 4.0.

Within seconds the results were up on the screen.

“All right Chase, lets see here okay, the results are up on the screen. It looks like you are in the 73% for the 2029 year.”

……

“Chase?”

“I’m sorry can you please run the numbers again, that is my percentage from last year”

“Hmmm, let me see. You are Chase McLeary right?

“Mhm”

She continued.

“Did you get a chance to read our updated terms with the HAC 4.0, you should have received notice for it in the mail?”

Thinking back, Chase had received a large amount of mail over the last year. He moved home to help take care of his Mom. In retrospect, there was a chance Chase may have accidentally threw it away with a pile of credit card solicitation’s.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to read it”

“Okay, well I can understand then why you are concerned then about your score. Our analysts have included more data and factors regarding you personal records, families records, credit card statements, spending habits, economic trends, and even your health records to give a proper diagnosis of your value. You know who we have doing these calculations right?

Chase nodded his head. He knew who it was the same people who predicted sports gambling in Vegas, they anticipated their results to be 98% accurate.

“Yeah its supposed to be very accurate. It just doesn’t make sense, if you saw the year I just had, you would be surprised by these results too.”

Reaching her arm across the desk, Julie took his hand, and locked in on his eyes.

“I understand this is tough. We see it all the time, and it's not always fair, but what we can do for you is help you better understand why you’re so lowly rated.”

Pulling his hands away, Chase felt the pitch coming and so prepared himself.

“How much is this going to cost?”

Not missing a beat, Julie responded

“I can get you a high level overview at a discounted rate for $500 today, and we can send you an updated version 6 months from now. If you want the full year, we can do it for $850 and of course there is tax.” Julie offered a friendly smile, reading his reaction.

Chase felt uncertain. In his heart, he wanted to leave the HAC and never come back. Another year of social inadequacy sounded unbearable. He calculated before today how much he would make in this next year with his trajectory which was more than $120,000.

“Lets just take the picture, and get this over with.”

Standing up, Chase walked over to where the camera was. He thought about Stephen Oleander and what his HAC experience might be like. He imagined him in the same seat as he was in the waiting room, and the type of interactions he may have had. Maybe Gloria would have preferred to talk to Stephen.

“Before taking your picture Chase, I want to run one more thing by you.”

Julie had trotted around the desk and was now literally in front of him. Her heels were 4 inches high which made her Chase’s height of 6”0. She had one final shot to reel Chase back in and so taking his hands in hers she began with a prayer.

“Dear lord, we don’t know why these things happen but they do and we must accept….”

Julie’s eyes were closed and Chase didn’t really know what to do. He hadn’t been to church in over 20 years, though majority of the community practiced regularly. Instead he tried not to focus on how sweaty his hands might feel to Julie.

After about one minute, she opened her eyes and gave Chase a hug.

“Hey, I know the new algorithm is brutal, but I think I have just the thing to help you increase your score for next year. It sounds like you might be interested to see your expected value appreciation over the next 10 years given your hard work this last year. Is that right?

“My expected appreciation?”

“Yup.”

She was not scooting back around to her desk.

“Based on market trends and your performance in the office, the HAC 4.0 considers your current path and where it might lead.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. How much would that cost?

“Well, if you just wanted to do a single analysis for today, we can do one payment of $275, and you’ll have everything you need in the short term.”

Chase thought it over quickly. What he couldn’t get over were the giggles and laughs he had heard in the waiting room while he genuinely tried to connect with others.

"Okay run it”

“Okay, great!” After pressing a few buttons, Chase heard a ding on his phone for the charge.

“So Chase, you grossed over $85,000 last year, and have a current net worth of roughly $16,987 in savings, which is good. Hmmm it says however that you have over $60,000 owed back in student loans. So basically, your head really isn’t above water yet.

Taken back, Chase became furious. He had paid off his student loans. The ones they were referencing tied to his little sisters college tuition. He heard these words, which felt immoral. He was being judged for helping his sister now?

He didn’t know what to say or feel, because he knew couldn’t hold this against his sister or that because his Mom had gotten stomach cancer and had to quite working to start chemotherapy.

“So that mostly explains why your percentage didn’t go up. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

Checking the time on the clock, Julie noticed they were approaching the 30 minute mark and she was satisfied that she had closed her deal.

“So Chase, we’ll just slide through the rest of this information and get you on your way”

Chase listened as Julie gave him the numbers which said the following:

In the next 10 years, he could at best be in the top 83% or below. These were all factored by his decisions, but considered heavily that his productivity in the specific market he worked in.

Even worse was his medical prognosis, which told him his life expectancy, 84 years old. In addition, based on his families medical records, Chase had a pre genetic disposition that within the next 5 years, his likelihood to begin balding was 20% dependent on stress levels, and that within 10 years he was 43% likely to be completely bald.”

“Thanks to his mother’s side," there was a good chance he would get diabetes between 35-50 years old depending on his diet and exercise. Also, because of his father’s history of heart problems, specifically of atrial fibrillation, the HAC recommended he look into natural and pharmaceutical enhancements he approached 40.

By the time Chase was propped in front of the camera, he looked as if he had been taken through the ringer. A nightmare of information which was now forever imbedded in his mind. The supposed truth of the future, all derived from an algorithm considered to be 98% accurate. It was an algorithm created by the same people who “used to” predict the results of sports gambling.

If Chase was a gambler, he would safe to put money down that by 45 years old, he’d be a bald middle class diabetic, one twinkie away from a heart attack.

The room was set at 68 degrees, though Chase had burned up to over one hundred. Sweat was beginning to build up around his forehead, and he was breathing irregularly. Small droplets of hair gel were making their way down his forehead into his eyes causing him to cry.

“Are you okay Chase?”

“Yes, its just... I did so much this last year, and I…”

“Here take a Kleenex” Julie responded cutting him off. The clock read 2:04pm, which was 4 minutes longer than Julie liked for a deal size less than $500.

“So how can I get into the top 83%?” responded Chase wiping his face.

“Just use the metrics in that overview, and work on the area’s that need fixing, okay? Thank you so much for coming”

Part 4 - An Unexpected Turn

Walking out of the HAC, Chase considered what the next step might be. He had a busy day at the office ahead of him, however in his depleted state, he considered just going home.

Taking a seat in the pick up area, he held his hands together and looked out to the clouds as they formed and separated in the sky. A light breeze from the North came through, which felt good on his forehead. Untucking his white dress shirt, he took off his jacket, and folded it across his lap which felt much better.

Pulling out his phone, he check out his new updated picture. His formerly groomed haircut was untamed, taking its natural curls. There were stains on the shoulders of his jacket from the expensive hair gel her purchased. Worst of all were his eyes, which looked lifeless and sucked in, like 2 marbles that had been left out in the sun for too long.

“Time to set some new goals” Chase thought, and so he began highlighting all of the area’s the HAC had pointed out. The thought of another of social isolated came to him again, and he wondered how his life could be so hard?

Then, as if on cue, Gloria Dominguez walked out of the HAC. She was now dressed in workout clothes, and seemed to have a heightened amount of energy. In truth, her HAC Profile had just increased 2% into 80% thanks to her husband. Chase didn’t know this, and couldn’t because they hadn’t spoken and he couldn’t access her profile.

With her headphones in, Gloria bopped around the ride share area as if ready to run out of a tunnel into a football stadium. Chase watched, intrigued by her physic, and confidence.

Pulling out his phone, he decided to do something out of character and snapped another picture of Gloria, and this time, with his headphones in. The same button appeared from last time. “Pay here to access more information.”

Chase clicked the button and within seconds he received a call from the HAC representative.

“Hello this is Mike with the HAC, am I talking to Mr. McLeary?”

“Yes, um yes hi”

“Great. How are you doing today?”

“Doing well.”

“Thats great to hear. I see you were inquiring for Ms. Gloria Dominguez. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I’d like to see what it would cost for more information.”

Mike was located in Boulder Colorado at a call center that strictly took inbounds like this. When he wasn’t at work, he spent his time snowboarding or mountain biking depending on the season. His goal was to eventually become an appraiser, so customer service was a step in the right direction for him.

“Certainly, and before we get into price… Was this for personal, professional, or emergency reasons”

“Um, Personal reasons I guess.”

“Oh alrighty then, well I am obligated to ask. Do you know or have any relations with Ms. Gloria Dominguez?”

“No, not really”

“Got it, well thats not a problem Chase, we can certainly share some more information with you, though it will be at an increased rate due to your non existent relationship with her, okay?”

Picking up his head, Chase saw that Gloria was still bopping around to her music. Shaking her hips left to right as if ready to hit the dance floor, Chase felt like such a creep. Behind her were a few older men sitting and staring.

“Oh, I'm sorry how much will that cost”

“Well considering your percentage of 73%, and hers of 80% let me run the numbers in our database.”

“Alright sir, thank you for your patience. Access to Ms. Gloria Dominguez’s personal profile is going to run you $200 for 1 hour, and since you’ve made a purchase with us today, we will also give you access to one phone call and an additional email sent through the HAC. How does that sound?”

“Oh, I’m sorry thats a bit high for me. Thank you though."

“Chase, Chase Chase, before you go”

Mike deepened his voice, and again Chase knew he was being pitched.

“Let me level with you before you go."

“Lets say you did take Gloria out on a date, how much would you expect to pay for the night.?

"I don't know maybe $100 or a little more depending on how it went."

“Exactly dude. I see girls ALL THE TIME, and they love to see when guys are willing to pay for this type of stuff. It makes them feel valuable, kind of a new age romantic gesture. Its damn near 2030, this is how we’ve got to do it these days. You know what I’m saying?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.

“Alright, so the best I can do is a text message for $50 dollars, 20 words whatever you want.”

Chase closed his phone, and took a deep breath. The clouds overhead were now blocking the sun. And he decided that it would probably be better for him to go to work, rather than feel sorry for himself. He agreed that this year he would focus on making more money and fixing all of his problems. One day he would be in the 83%, and maybe happy eventually. In his phone he began typing out his goals for the year, when he received a tap on the shoulder.

…..

“Hello, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened earlier.”

It was the woman who had bummed into him earlier in the waiting room. Chase noticed now that she had very kind eyes and friendly smile.

“Thats okay, I don’t think I had much of a chance anyway.”

Chase said this and laughed though inside he felt uncomfortable.

Taking a seat next to him on the bench she continued.

“Oh yes, that girl over there is very pretty. Is that who you wanted to talk to?”

Chase looked and saw Gloria now bent over touching her toes showing her full figure to the masses.

“Yup, thats her.” Chase said embarrassingly.

“My late husband was a lot like that girl, in certain ways.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear of his passing.”

“Thank you, its quite all right though. He carried a lot of demons with him in his final days, I wish he were happier towards the end of it all.”

Chase was unsure how to move forward in the conversation. Most people preferred to stray away from people they didn’t know. Why was this woman opening up to him about her personal life? Strange he thought to himself, this woman must be really down in the dumps willing to talk to someone like me. Still her eyes seemed genuine, so Chase continued the conversation.

“I’m sorry, when did he pass away?”

“This last year, a week or two after new years. He had a heart attack.”

“How long were you two married? Almost 23 years, he was 52.

The wind blew again, and Chase sat there still. Contemplating what was appropriate or inappropriate to ask, then She broke the silence in a laugh.

“You sort of remind me of him. I heard your comment earlier about the woman with the all the jewelry, I swear some people go through such inconveniences in life.”

“Oh yeah” Chase smiled to himself.

“That may have been inappropriate” Chase said out loud.

“Oh it's all right. She has her own story which she tells herself and thats her deal. Still, it’s not right to treat people so poorly”

“Yeah.” Chase took a deep breath, and continued “But thats the point of the HAC, and having our appraisal’s, to keep everyone safe and understand what we contribute or bring to society?”

“Hmmm.”

She didn’t answer at first, and then continued.

“I think it is up to you to decide what you contribute to society. Like that woman Gloria, her husband of one year is twice her age and worth quite a bit, though I don’t believe the business he is in actually contributes positively to society.”

Chase wondered how this woman knew all of that information. She must be at least in the 80% or higher to have accessed Gloria’s profile, and to access even her husbands was privileged for the highest classes. Why wasn’t she at least dressed the part?

“My husband began working for a company, after we had our daughter. I didn’t know much about it, except that it brought us a lot of wealth. What happened in our relationship was an increasing distrust of each other. After the police showed up to our house a few days before Christmas, we found out that we would lose everything.”

Chase knew in that moment, exactly who she was. The newspapers had covered the story for almost 6 months, because it was such a scandal within the Minnetonka community. Engaged, he let her finish the story.

“My Henry had started lying to me for many years, and because of it I lost nearly everything except my Laura. When Henry passed, all the material items were taken away. The house, the cars, the jewelry, and savings all given back to the government. So yes, I’ve seen what can happen when we use the value of things to determine the worth of our lives. It can poison the mind and make you forget that other people have feelings to.”

Chase sat there, and digested everything she just said, and let these words settle.

“The question you might want to ask is: what is the most important thing in your life, if you lost everything today?”

“Are you, Henry Goldman’s wife.” Chase asked.

“Yes, I was once. My name is Sasha.”

The two of them shook hands, and for the first time that day Chase felt a little lighter than he had before. The calm breeze picked up again, giving him the chills.

“Mom, well that was fun. They clocked me in at 75%.”

Turning around, a girl a few years younger than Chase stood with her arms folded. Chewing a fresh stick of gum, she had her hair in pig tails and had the same friendly blue eyes as Sasha. Dressed in jeans, sandals, and a white Woodstock t shirt, she waited for her mothers inevitable introduction. She reminded Chase of Kate Hudson from the classic movie Almost Famous.

“Chase, this is my daughter Laura.”

“Hello.”

“How do you do Chase?”

“Not bad, just got told my whole life story. And you?”

“Meh, I don’t pay attention to the statistics, I prefer to think of myself as the sole author of my own story.”

Laughing at this, Sasha invited Chase over for lunch. He only had to call in his work to explain he would be taking a personal day. The three of them entered the autonomous driving car, and left for Sasha and Sophia’s house for a cup of coffee.

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