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katyatalks · 4 years

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Otomedia April 2019 - Itou Setsuo [Mob] & Irino Miyu’s [Ritsu] Interview Translation

Here’s Itou Setsuo [Mob] & Irino Miyu’s [Ritsu] interview from April 2019’s Otomedia! They’re given in one section so I’ve put them both into one post, making this a long one. Contains some lovely meta on character relationships (Mob & Reigen and Ritsu & Shou respectively), some Shimazaki meta, and some nice insight as to how fans helped develop the tone of season 2.

ITOU SETSUO [Mob]

Q: Season 2 has been full throttle since the very first episode, hasn’t it.

A: Episode 1 felt natural in the way that it picked up from where season 1 left off, and in terms of content it very much felt like “Mob Psycho 100”. But, we see glimmers of Mob’s growth because we knew who he was in season 1. Since there weren’t exactly any scenes in season 1 in which he uses his powers in public or uses his powers of his own accord, episode 1 leaves an impression. As an introduction episode I’d say it scores 120 out of 100.

Q: Where do you think season 2 has powered up the most, compared to season 1?

A: One place in which it’s had a power up is the way the story has progressed, leaning into something more serious. The matter of Mob’s growth has begun, leaving the audience in a state of anticipation. Actually, Mob’s growth is, in itself, the number one power up point. He questions things, thinks for himself, and then arrives at a conclusion - different to how he was back in season 1, when he simply did as shishou said. It’s a level of growth that reaches high enough to touch the sky, I’d say. What we see in episodes 6 and 7, ie. “Mob’s daily life without shishou”, is something that I think wouldn’t have been possible without Mob’s growth. For Mob, having fun with someone after school, enjoying a normal school life… him doing those kinds of things is a pretty dramatic change in itself.

Unexpectedly, from the get go we see Mob move as a separate unit to Reigen in season 2. In episodes 4 and 5, the two are separated by the fake world and the real world, and then after that they do their own things, until they finally recombine in episode 9. Of course, up until now we’ve seen a lot of conversations between Mob and shishou, but compared to season 1 I feel those conversations have fallen considerably. I feel like as a result of Mob and shishou’s relationship temporarily breaking, it has bounced back into something that feels more complete. I think they’ve truly come to be able to trust one another - their relationship has evolved into that.

Q: Until now, are there any scenes or lines in particular that have left an impression on you?

A: There’s plenty. I remember the end of episode 1 well, in which Mob confesses to Emi-chan - “I’m an esper” - it really felt like a final episode kind of scenario! Then - this line was in the PV, too - “This power, that I thought would never be of use to anyone… I’ll use it to save someone’s life!” from episode 5. That’s a line that I put effort into, so it really left an impression on me - I’d like it to leave an impression on everyone else, too. And, from the end of Whitey Arc (episode 7), “a good person”. Those three things left an impression on me.

Q: We’ve had new characters appear one after the other - which of those characters has piqued your interest?

A: I like Shimazaki. How to put it; he’s someone who’s attached to Claw, but emotionally I don’t think he’s really attached to anything... so he pretty much just does what he wants. I think it’s probable, as an esper, to feel that you can’t fit in with others. Also, quite simply, I think he’s cool! The power to teleport and read your opponent’s movements… needless to say, that’s cool. We get to see the power balance between all the espers when it comes to Shimazaki, in wondering how to defeat him. I think Shimazaki and co. could be described as rulers with which to measure powers by.

Q: Turning toward the climax of season 2, please tell us the highlights.

A: The fight with ‘Boss’, a formidable enemy. I think the fight scene between him and Mob is a highlight the whole way through. The visuals, the performance, the battle… Also, the growth of the characters around Mob, and the way the relationships between them change. Mob isn’t the only one fighting - there’s various fights and problems happening around him, too. In that sense, no matter how many times you watch the climax, I think you’ll make a new discovery.

Q: Finally, a message, please.

A: From here on out it’s a straight path toward the climax, so please stay glued to the show and enjoy. Mob’s growth, that we’ve seen throughout season 2… if you could please see it through right the way to the end, I’d be very happy.

IRINO MIYU [Ritsu]

Q: Where do you think season 2 has powered up the most, compared to season 1?

A: From the start I’ve always thought of Mob Psycho 100 as a work that has its strength in the fact that the colours, movements, and direction all work together to make it seem as if it’s a different work to the manga it’s based on. I think season 2 powered up when it comes to style. I think the response to season 1 was amazing for the production team - Director Tachikawa specifically springs to mind. The reaction from the fans was amazing - we ourselves looked at it all and went, “wow”. With self-confidence within us, we plunged forward, thinking, “right, let’s do what we want,” and as a result I feel the season 2 we’ve ended up with has turned out as something more fun and stylish than season 1.

Q: In what ways do you think Ritsu has grown or changed in season 2?

A: In season 1, I think the Ritsu we see can be defined with the word “insecure”. He appears to be the kind of guy who can do anything, but at his core there lies a swirling mass of complexes. I found that fascinating about him, and story-wise it really helped accelerate the fun. Those complexes are allowed to rest, and consequently he appears at ease in season 2. How to put it; he’s come to be able to distinguish between “what I should do” and “what I want to do”, and is able to recognise what is important to him in his life. So, I think the growth he shows us in season 2 is in the way that his thoughts regarding powers have changed, and the peace of mind that has come to him as a result. With regard to Mob, I feel, as well, that he’s put into practise trying to not come to his rescue so much, and respecting his will.

Q: Until now, are there any scenes in particular that have left an impression on you?

A: The parallel world that we see in Mogami Arc (episode 5). First off, the design is amazing, really leaving an impression. When I saw that episode, I truly felt from the bottom of my heart just how amazing Mob Psycho 100 is. The uncomfortable tone leaves you speechless… as a whole, it has a refreshing feel to it. It makes you appreciate the fact that, usually, Mob Psycho 100 is quite different. The show has the power to make you feel it all - there’s a texture there that you can touch, a smell that you can appreciate. I didn’t perform in that episode, so I didn’t know how the episode would be until broadcast. So, when I saw it, I was incredibly surprised - “what IS this!?”.

Q: What are your thoughts on Shou, who Ritsu meets once again in episode 8?

A: Well, he’s done a good job not being brainwashed. He walks down the path that he thinks is right, which I think is amazing. But - well - the way he chooses to walk that path can be a little overbearing, I think (laughs).

He’s also got complexes when it comes to family, and he’s still in the middle of fighting them. His objective - clearing his pent up emotions - he thinks there’s only one method, and that’s to defeat his father. In contrast, Ritsu no longer antagonises his older brother, having already resolved that. So, Ritsu looks at the way Shou pushes on, and is able to say, “I understand you”. Shou and his father… I think, given Ritsu and Shou’s circumstances being the way they are, that topic will come up as something the two of them will talk about in the future.

Ritsu’s clever, so he’s able to get along with someone while only half-trusting them. He’s able to calmly talk with Shou, and also recognise somewhere in his heart that Shou isn’t a bad person.

...Well, also, given the situation (laughs), he can’t do anything but work together with Shou!

Q: Finally, a message, please!

A: I’m glad the response has been so great - I was able to feel it even while recording. From this point on there’ll be a bunch of new characters appearing, and it’s a point where everything is going to heat up and be more fun, so please pay attention!

Twitter crosspost here.

Otomedia April 2019;

ONE’s special interview here.

Sakurai Takahiro [Reigen VA] & Itou Setsuo [Mob VA] joint interview here.

Kokuryuu Sachi [Shou VA] interview here.

Itou Setsuo [Mob VA] & Irino Miyu [Ritsu VA] interview here.

Character Designer Kameda, Eye-catch Team Kenja, Series Co-ordinator Seko & Director Tachikawa's interview here.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #kageyama shigeo #kageyama ritsu #shimazaki ryou #suzuki shou #reigen arataka #my stuff #otomedia april 2019 #interview

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controloffandoms · 5 years

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Numb (D.W.)

Prompt: Just something that came to mind. Reader is part of the Super Fam. Older Damian Wayne.

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Super!Reader, Dick Grayson x platonic!reader

Words: 5870

Warnings: Cursing, violence (lots of violence for a little bit), Deaf reader at one point, emotionally vacant reader

Notes: This just kind of happened. There may be another part, but this is where I felt this part ended.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You slowly rose from your bed. You had gotten in around four that morning and had to be at work by seven...unless there was a crisis that you needed to stop that involved you getting snapshots of Krypton as she fought against whomever decided to become the villain of the morning. Then, you could tell your boss you were late because you were getting some action shots of Bludhaven’s favorite hero-though Dick Grayson would challenge you on that fact.

You would think a Super as yourself would be in Metropolis or another city close to it, but you would be wrong. You wanted to be independent of your father’s influence and your other siblings. You needed to make your own name. So, your father, Clark Kent, had reached out to Bludhaven Global Journal and had allowed you to further your career as a journalist without having to live up to the expectations of the Daily Planet since your parents were Clark and Lois, two famed journalists. After much debate, you decided to take the out and transfer to Bludhaven. That had been the best decision to make.

Last night you and Dick, as Krypton and Nightwing, had taken on Bane and Blockbuster who were teaming up to take Bludhaven before moving onto Gotham. Bane had been working on the Gotham end while Blockbuster had worked on Bludhaven. Last minute, Bane had joined the fight and your found yourself between a rock and a hard place. Why, you ask, does that put you in a pickle? While you are part Kryptonian, you didn’t get all of the powers your dad had...or Jon had...you didn’t even have the best attributes like Connor did. Sure, you can fly, you have heat vision, super hearing and strength. You do not have cold breath, X-Ray vision, or superspeed. The worst part was that you didn’t even have the invulnerability. You get bruised and cut like Dick does after a rough battle. While it takes more force to break bones, that’s also a possibility-especially when fighting Blockbuster and Bane.

You and Dick had stood back to back, taking in the new scene and information. Needless to say, your ached all over and were grateful that Dick was able to find the information you both needed to stop their operation in its tracks. While he had been off on a search of information, you had taken on the two powerhouses. Let’s just say that by the time Dick had the information, you were overpowered and running out of energy.

You stumbled into the bathroom and started your morning routine. A short, but relaxing shower followed by applying makeup to your bruises and cuts so no one at work could ask about your after-shift activities. You checked everything in the mirror before exiting your room and walking to the kitchen where Dick was just setting out a warm breakfast with coffee while taking a face-time from Bruce.

Dick’s eleven years older than you (as you were Damian’s age) and had taken it upon himself to watch out for you in Bludhaven. After you had accepted your position at BGJ, you had been called by Grayson telling you that he had lots of extra space in his penthouse that he would be willing to rent out to you. He knew the only way that you would accept the offer is if you worked for the space. He had been right, and you couldn’t thank him enough. It was nice not being all alone in a new city at the beginning. As the months went on, it was just nice to come home to someone who knew your nightly activities and understood both the mundane and super things.

Dick sat next to your at the bar, leaning the phone on the popsocket to get both of you in the picture and freeing his hands so he could eat. “Morning Bruce,” you mumble, not yet completely awake.

“Morning. Tell me what you experienced last night,” the frame shifted as Damian joined the picture.

“TT, they did a number on your face, (Y/N),” Damian sighed.

“Thanks for the update,” you rolled your eyes. “I had my suspicions after having overheard a conversation Blockbuster was having with someone on the phone before Dick showed up last night. No names were mentioned but they were talking about a ‘shipment’ that would cripple both Gotham and Bludhaven. They wanted to take out the vigilanties and take over the cities and make them in their own image. After the call ended, Blockbuster met with Tarantula. Tarantula was in charge of the shipment and was given coded directions that I still haven’t been able to decode. Whatever this ‘shipment’ is, I believe we better get ahead of it before they have a chance to use it against us. I’ll keep on trying to decode the message after I get to work today.”

“The information I downloaded and deleted from their computers seemed to cripple the operation for the time being. I think that they have something to do with the shipment that (Y/N) was talking about. She gave me a copy of the coded directions and I’m going to see if I can get anything from looking at that and the files. I’ll make it my primary case today. From the information I got several warehouses in Gotham, I’ve sent the information over to you for you both to look into. Be careful, in case the Gotham end is more prepared than ours,” Dick took a gulp of coffee.

“I will grab Drake, Todd, and Brown. We’ll go look into the warehouses. I will let you know of our findings,” Damien nodded.

“I did my own recon last night while Bane was still in Gotham. He was meeting with Joker, Harley, Penguin, Two-Face, and Riddler. I wasn’t able to get much information out of the conversation, but they were talking of the operation taking place in the next two weeks. Depending on if all of the information you gathered transfers over to the Gotham operation, you could have set them back as well. I want us all to be on our toes. I also believe that if Bane was meeting with five other villains that your operation is bigger than just Blockbuster and Tarantula,” Bruce sighed, looking up as a knock sounded on his door. “I don’t want either of you patrolling on your own, that goes for you as well Damian. We’ll talk more later. Be safe.”

The video ended and you stretched as you stood to take your dirty dishes to the sink. “Damian was right, Bane and Blockbuster did a number on your last night. Maybe you should call out today.”

You turned sharply, ignoring the pull of multiple cuts on your stomach. “I am a powerful Kryptonian, I do not need to take ‘sick days’. I will apply more makeup and be on my way. Stay safe on the job today, Dick. I’d hate to have to take an early break to save your ass because you can’t reveal to your partner that you’re Nightwing,” you stalked off to finish getting ready for work.

Don’t misunderstand, you love Dick Grayson. He’s like a big brother to you, a big brother that you never got, being the oldest in the Kent clan. At twenty-three, you’re still headstrong and willing to push every ache behind in order to get the job done and seem normal. You had been the first one that Clark had to teach to control your super strength, dial down your hearing, control your heat vision when you were angry. You had been the trial run. Hell, you were the reason that they slowly tested Jon’s abilities just in case he was like you, with penetrable skin. After realizing you weren’t bullet proof, it took your father almost a whole year to let you patrol again.

You stepped into the living room of the penthouse, seeing Dick grabbing his keys. You sighed quietly and walked over to him. “Thank you for being concerned, but I know my limits. I’ll leave work early if I’m not feeling well. Don’t do anything stupid today, Detective Grayson,” you hugged him. He wrapped you in gentle but firm arms.

“I know you do, but you’re my little sister (Y/N/N). I worry. I promise no stupidity today as long as you do the same,” he released you, giving you a look.

“Scouts honor,” you smirked and grabbed your own set of keys. You both parted once you got to the car garage.

_____________

You looked up as a shadow cast over your workspace. “Kent, we need to talk.” You rose an eyebrow at Damian and stood.

“I need to tell my boss that I’m not feeling too well and will be taking the rest of the day off,” you state as you grab your things. After he was informed, you and Damian began the walk to the parking garage. “What’s this about, Mr. Wayne,” you asked. Since you were in public, you were treating him as if he was in on your next story. An informant or professional expert on what your next article was going to be.

He opened the passenger door of his car and closed it behind you before joining you in the car. “We have time sensitive information on Blockbuster and Bane’s operation. It’s even bigger than we thought. We’re meeting everyone back at Grayson’s penthouse.”

You nodded and stared out the window before turning to look at Damian as he drove. His chiseled cheeks, his broad shoulders, the muscles rippling beneath the tailored suit he wore. His eyes turned to you briefly, but you didn’t turn away. “It’s been a while,” you casually stated.

“I know. Next time I’ll come for a social visit. Or you could come to Gotham, either way. We haven’t spent time together since you got your job eight months ago,” A small smile was present on his face.

“You still see Jon almost every week,” you asked.

“Oh most definitely. He asks me when I’m going to come see you,” you rolled your eyes. Jon and Damian were best friends, much like you and Damian were. Jon just seemed to think that there was more to your relationship than just being best friends. He was right on your end. You realized four years ago that you were in love with your best friend. You knew he couldn’t feel the same, so you kept it to yourself and used your feelings for him to better your friendship and protect him when your worked on missions together.

“The little brat thinks he’s so slick,” you joked.

“You might want to tone down the judgement on your brother. When I said this operation was even bigger than we thought, that meant that it spread to Metropolis. Jon and Conner are already with Grayson in the penthouse. Your father is off world but is trying to wrap up the mission to get back here to help deal with the situation. Father, Todd, and Drake have arrived at the penthouse. Pennyworth and Brown are monitoring things in Gotham.”

You nodded and stretched your hearing to the penthouse. Everyone Damian had mentioned was, in fact, at the penthouse. Another sound caught your attention. You zoned in on it and tensed. “-eady in two hours. We’ll take those idiot do-gooder’s out in no time,” that was Tarantula.

“Good. I want to be rid of them as soon as possible.” Blockbuster.

You zoned back into the car as it parked. You both exited the car, but you paused as a scream reached your ears. It was coming from the same direction as Blockbuster and Tarantula. “-(Y/N)? KENT,” Damian shouted as he shook your shoulder.

“What?”

“Are you coming?”

“I’ve got to check something out,” you muttered, mind still on the information you’d gotten on the way...and thinking of the scream. Was it just a trap to see if their plan would work on you? Was someone really in danger and needed assistance? As the scream returned, you rushed into the penthouse, ignoring the people already in it. You changed into your suit and was out your bedroom window before Damian even reached your room.

“TT, damn it Kent,” you heard Damian exclaim and you tuned out the penthouse.

Landing quietly on the roof of the building you tracked the scream to, you carefully looked around. You weren’t going in blindly. This could very well be a trap. You wished that you’d gotten the genetics for X-Ray vision at this point, but you could deal with this. You could help the person in danger and get back to the penthouse to talk about the operation with everyone else.

You entered through a vent, using the many lessons Bruce and Dick had taught you about hiding in the shadows and using the element of surprise. Finally you found the room where the screaming originated from. Good news was that there was cause for you to investigate. Bad news, someone did need rescuing and it was most likely a trap.

You reached your hearing to the penthouse, before whispering out, “Jon, Conner, your listening ears on?” You heard them quiet down the others in the penthouse as they responded.

“Good news, I know where Blockbuster’s master plan resides currently. Bad news, they’re going to go through with the plan in two hours.”

“Why the hell did you go off without anyone else,” Conner hissed.

“Other bad news, they have hostages.”

It was silent for a minute before Jon sighed. You could imagine him running a hand down his face, “and they know you have enhanced hearing meaning they were planning on drawing you into a trap...which you blindly did.”

“Not exactly. They still don’t know I’m here. I spent too much time with bats to be that stupid,” you paused as you saw movement as the door in the room opened. “Hold on, movement.”

“Don’t engage, Kent,” Damian growled, “we’re coming to you. You don’t move until we get there.”

Your heart stopped momentarily as you realized that you didn’t have a choice in that. Seconds after seeing the man come through the door, you put up your mental shields as you had been taught. Manchester Black, renowned telepath and enemy of Superman and all of his children. You didn’t know he was back on Earth. “Black,” you whispered, hearing Jon tell the others of the telepath.

Apparently you hadn’t put your shields up fast enough to block Black. “Come now, Kryptonian.”

Before you could move, the vent was torn from the ceiling and you were left staring at Monolith and General Zod. A quiet curse left your lips as you made a head count. Manchester Black, General Zod, Monolith, Blockbuster, Tarantula, Bane, Joker, and Harley Quinn. “And I thought your little plan wouldn’t work,” Bane chuckled as he looked at Zod.

“All of Kal-El’s children are too righteous to ignore helping the innocent. Even his clone can’t ignore the need to help others. It’s pathetic really,” he responded. You could feel Black trying to break your shields.

“Can we hit this one now? I want to see her turn black and blue,” Harley leaned on her bat as she waited on an answer.

“I need her disabled in order to test our plan out, go ahead,” Blockbuster grinned.

It was like you were an all you can eat buffet and the villains were starved people as they all rushed at you. You growled under your breath and fought them off. You stayed as far away from Monolith as possible. As far as you and Dick knew, he was invulnerable-not to mention the superstrength he possessed rivaled your own. You kept Zod at a distance as well. He was a full blooded Kryptonian, he possessed all of your dad’s abilities and other than kryptonite, he had no vulnerabilities.

You focused on Tarantula. Get her out and you’ll have one less villain to deal with. It wasn’t hard to knock the young woman out. With her out of commission, you worked on Joker and Harley while still dodging attacked from the others. You had knocked Harley out just as you felt yourself being picked up and thrown through the air, complete with the feeling that your skin was being melted. A huge fist pushed your farther into the concrete you rested against.

You met the next fist and threw off Monolith. You didn’t get far before it felt like your head was exploding. With your concentration gone, you crashed to the ground, hands going up to your head as the rest of your shields fell. You felt the blood starting to leak from your nose and you couldn’t fight the scream that left your lips as the pain in your head intensified along with the physical abuse by the other villains in the room. Just as you began to pass out, you felt your left leg shatter, causing a broken gasp to leave your mouth as everything went black.

___________

You don’t know how long it had been since you lost consciousness when you woke next. A quiet groan left your mouth and you bit your lip as you pushed yourself up. You hissed as you put weight on your leg. You floated slightly to keep weight off of it. Several fearful eyes stared back at you once you began to look around. As you took stock of the situation, you extended your hearing, hoping to find the heartbeat of your brothers or the bats. You couldn’t find any sign of them and that worried you. As you looked around again, you realized that this wasn’t the location you scoped out earlier. They had moved you.

Your heart beat began to quicken and did your breathing before you quelshed the fear. Damian Wayne would find you. You trusted him with your life. He would find you and he wouldn’t stop until he did. You took one more look at the hostages in the cage with you, your face hardening slightly. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to try and get the bars open enough for everyone to crawl out,” you whispered. You didn’t know where any of the villains were, but you didn’t want them to overhear you.

As soon as your hands clasped the bars, it felt like your energy was being drained from you. As you pulled at the bars, they moved barely and inch apart. As you went to pull at them again, a very familiar chuckle reached your ears. “I made them especially for you Supers. The cages are infused with Kryptonite. I have to say, Krypton, I’m surprised that the other idiots’ plan worked. I didn’t think you were dumb enough to fall into the trap.”

You backed away from the bars and glared at the man coming from the shadows. “Lex Luthor, why am I not surprised. I thought you were still off world.”

He smirked, coming closer to the cage. “I came back just for this. You didn’t think that Bane, Zod, and Blockbuster came up with this whole operation by themselves, did you? By being off world, no one would suspect my involvement. Once we take Gotham, Bludhaven, and Metropolis, the other heroes and cities will fall into our control.”

“How do you plan to make the cities fall? How do you plan to get rid of the other heroes?”

“That’s the easy part. You’ll be helping us out. We’ll see if it works on you. If it does, we can implement it on the others. If it doesn’t, we’ll fix it until it does...and even if it doesn’t work, you’ll be out of the picture,” Lex smirked. He crossed his arms in amusement as you pried at the bars again. “How does it feel to know that you’ll either be under our control or dead in less than thirty minutes?”

“That��s not going to happen,” you growled. Monolith, Zod, and Blockbuster emerged from the shadows and Lex smirked.

The cage door opened and you took the chance to attack, pushing the Monolith back into Zod. You used your heat vision to blind Blockbuster temporarily. You had to admit that you were panicking on the inside. You were a cornered animal and they all knew it. It would only be a matter of time before one of them restrained you.

You screamed and fought as Zod held onto you, dragging you through darkened hallways as the others followed. “When we get in there, make sure to inject her with the compound before we hook her to the machine,” Lex turned to smirk at you. “The show is about to begin.”

A door at the end of the hallway had light peeking from the bottom. It blinded you as the door swung open. It took a second for your eyes to adjust. That was enough time for your handlers to be changed out. Monolith was now holding you as Zod approached with a syringe. “No,” you shouted and tried to fight against Monolith’s hold on you. You used your heat vision, superstrength, and flight to try and get away, but nothing you did got you free.

Whatever was in the syringe burned your veins as it moved through. You grit your teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much pain you were in. “Lock her in,” Lex stated as he moved further in the room.

You fought the whole way there. You weren’t going without a fight. As the last restraint was put on you, you felt tears of frustration building up. “No no no no no,” you mumbled, pulling at the restraints.

“You’ll find that those restraints are made of Kryptonite. While I’ll be displeased if this doesn’t work, at least I have one Super out of my hair,” Lex turned to look at Black behind the console. “Light her up!”

As the machine roared to life, you heard glass breaking all around you and multiple figures entered the room. You didn’t have time to take it all in before the machine sent a steady stream of energy at you. Upon contact, the fire in your veins intensified tenfold and you couldn’t help but scream out. You could feel Black probing your mind and implanting thoughts, but you couldn’t focus enough to block him out. You felt like your body was being torn in two...but then it all stopped.

Black was unconscious, the machine shut down, Conner and Jon fighting Zod and Monolith… Damian in front of you, hands on your cheeks, wiping away your fallen tears. His mouth moving, but you can’t hear what he’s saying. All you hear is whitenoise. “Hurts,” you form the word with your mouth. Whether it’s spoken or not, you don’t know but Damian understands.

Your restraints are undone and you can’t catch yourself, but you don’t need to. Damian has you, he’s lowering you to the ground, crouching with you, still saying something you can’t make out as he turns his head while he talks in order to see how the others are doing. Slowly, your hearing comes back, “-got you. Should have gotten here sooner. How are you feeling,” he turned back to you, picking you up bridal side.

“Hurs, Dee,” your words are blending, but you can’t help it.

He exits the building with you, holding onto you tightly as he sits in the passenger seat of the batmobile. Not long after, the other vigilantes exit the building, some with villains in tow, others talking in low voices. Well, low for them. To you, it was like they were yelling directly in your ears. Your hands come up to cover your ears, letting out a distressed sound.

Damian’s arms tighten around you as you begin to try to get out of his grasp, “loud...too loud. Hurts,” you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Father, get us out of here now,” Damian’s voice is loud as well as he calls to his father.

_________

You’re lucky the penthouse soundproof. Even with that, you can still hear things, but it’s all dull. Everything that happens in the penthouse, though, sounds like an airhorn in your ear. The quiet talking of the other people in the house are like shouts. The flush of the toilet is like a hurricane. The beeping of the coffee pot being done is like being right next to the tsunami siren. Not to mention every time you move, even the smallest bit, everything burns and hurts. You imagine this is how Jason Todd felt after being beaten by Joker then left to a fiery death by bomb.

You hissed slightly as you sat up on the bed. You had to get out of here. You had to get rid of the headache. You had to go somewhere quiet...and you had just the place: your dad’s Fortress of Solitude. You stumbled into the wall as you walked to the window.

Suddenly, Jon is in front of you, arms crossed and worry evident on his face. “Where are you going,” he asked.

Your right hand went up to your ear as you winced. “Quiet,” you whispered. Your left hand, which you had against the wall for support, quivered.

Jon placed both hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“No,” you shouted. This caused Jon to jump slightly, giving you a moment to back away from him. “I-I can’t think! I can’t-I can’t concentrate! I can’t-I need-I-Hurts! Jon, it hurts! My head-My head, feels like it’s ex-exploding! I don’t care how quiet you and everyone else talks, it’s like you’re each screaming in my ears!!” By now, tears were freely falling and you had drawn a crowd.

You backed away until your back hit a wall. The fire in your veins was back and getting worse with each breath you took. “Make it...STOP!” The temperature in the room dropped and you could only watch as each of your increased breaths cooled the room even more. “What’s happening to me,” your voice cracked, as did the mirror on your wall from the amount of ice piled on it.

Damian was in front of you, placing one hand on your knee and the other on your cheek. “Beloved, you need to calm down. I will help you figure it out, but I need you to calm down...you’re scaring me.” The fact that Damian Wayne admitted that he was scared was enough to get your attention. You stared directly at him, nodding slightly.

“Damian, I’m scared. Everything hurts. I can’t think-I can’t-I can’t focus...Veins on fire.” You shut your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. You let out a scream intentionally and stood abruptly. “Injection. Lex,” you closed your eyes, trying to bring the words to your lips, “injected me with something.” You could tell your body was shaking but you couldn’t focus on it. Get it together, Kent. “Black was-Black-in my head. Changed things. Put things in.”

The different heart beats in the room were going at different speeds. It created an unsteady thrum that you couldn’t help but focus on. “What kind of things did he change,” Conner asked as quietly as he could, at least you thought he was trying for your benefit to be quiet.

You still winced at his voice, slowly sitting on the edge of your bed. “Thoughts. Feelings. All fucked up.” You put your face in your hands, trying to scrub away the tears that had fallen. “My fault. All my fault. Stupid. Idiot,” you mumbled. “Feels like-like mind’s splitting in two.”

“That’s probably an accurate description. You didn’t fully complete Lex’s plan before we interrupted. From what Conner and Jon heard, you were either supposed to be dead or under their control. Black was probably implanting memories and changing your beliefs and didn’t get to finish. Your core beliefs are fighting what he changed making your mind fight itself. As for what he injected you with, I’m running that through my systems to figure out what it was. Alfred and Stephanie are tracking down the exact components of it to see if we can create something to counteract it.” Bruce slowly stepped forward. “You just need to hold on. Clark’s almost back to Earth. We’re going to figure this out.”

___________

You’d finally passed out around five a.m. Looking at the clock, it didn’t seem worth it. Six fifteen a.m. You went through your morning routine on autopilot. You felt numb. You looked at yourself in the mirror, wincing at your battered body. You couldn’t feel it, but it sure as hell look like it hurts. Now that you think about it, you should be more worried that you couldn’t feel anything. You were battered enough that your makeup didn’t even cover the bruising.

You rolled your eyes and walked out of your room and to the kitchen. You were slightly surprised to see almost everyone sitting around the living area/kitchen. You hadn’t heard them moving around. You grabbed a plate and grabbed portions of eggs and grits. You decided to take it back to your room as all of the convenient seats were taken.

Before you could walk back to your room, a hand landed on your shoulder and turned you around. You cocked your head, why didn’t he just call for you? Dick’s mouth was moving, but you couldn’t hear his voice. The confusion must have shown on your face as Damian and your brothers approached. As much as you wanted to figure out what was wrong with your hearing, you couldn’t help but not care about it. You handed Dick your plate and turned around, locking the door behind you.

You finished your morning routine and deciding on a hat for today so that you could hide some of your bruised face. You had to get to work. You had an article due today after all. As you approved your look in the mirror, you walked out the door of your room. You gave the usual parting words to Grayson as you neared the front door, “don’t do anything stupid that I have to save your ass from today, Grayson.”

You had just made it out the door when there was another hand gripping your shoulder. You huffed and jerked out of their hold to come face to face with your father. His mouth moved and you barely made out the words ‘you’re hurt. You need to rest and heal.’ You shook your head and backed away from him.

“Article due today. Gotta finish it. I feel fine,” the truth was you didn’t feel anything at all. His arm moved quickly to grip you again, but you jerked back again, glaring at your father. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret later, Daddy.”

Jon was on your right side and Conner on your left. Both their mouths were moving, but you couldn’t concentrate on one of them to figure out what they were saying. You started to walk away from them again. You didn’t hesitate to fight against the next hand that grabbed you. You swung the arm over you, disorienting your brother before popping his shoulder out of its socket and shoving him hard enough into the wall to leave a Jon sized print.

You didn’t bother to stop to apologize, just continued to your car. This time no one stopped you.

(Third Person POV)

Damian wasn’t sure what was going on with you. It scared him. The previous day when he couldn’t figure out how to comfort you and make the pain go away, he felt like a complete failure. He’d finally been able to get you to go to sleep around five and had promptly found his father and the others in the living area to figure out what to do to help you.

About an hour later, you walked out of the room like you were back to your old self. Like nothing had happened the previous day. Dick excused himself from the conversation as you reappeared with a plate of food, heading for your room. “(Y/N)! What are you doing up? I would think you’d be resting.” She didn’t respond. “(Y/N)?”

He placed a hand on your shoulder and you turned around, cocking your head in question. “Are you alright? How are you feeling this morning? (Y/N), can you understand me?” Each question was followed with her brow furrowing. Damian, Conner, and Jon approached you while Dick held your attention.

By the time Damian had an idea of what was wrong, you were already back in your room. He tried the door, but it was locked. He thought of picking the lock, but maybe you just needed some time to yourself.

When you came walking through the room again, this time looking like you were going out, Damian was out of his seat quicker than any of the others. “(Y/N), where are you going? You should be resting.” It didn’t seem as if you’d heard him.

“Don’t do anything stupid that I have to save your ass from today, Grayson,” you called as you grabbed your keys and proceeded out the door.

Clark was right behind you, gripping your shoulder. “I think there’s something wrong with your hearing, Sweetheart.” You turned in his grip, shrugging out of it. “You’re hurt. You need to rest and heal.”

Damian watched as your face hardened and you glared at your father. He had never seen you act this way around Clark Kent. You adored him. Sure, there were times when you argued with your father about missions, but he had never seen this pure hatred that crossed across your face. “Article due today. Gotta finish it. I feel fine.” Your voice was a little loud which supports the theory that your hearing could be shot from the previous day.

He watched as you jerked away from your father’s grip again. If you had been an animal, he could imagine your hackles rising and you growling to ward off a predator or unwanted visitor. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret later, Daddy,” you practically spat the last word. By this time, Jon and Conner had closed in on both sides, making a narrow opening for your to walk through.

“(Y/N), Sis, this isn’t you. I think it’s best that we keep you here for today. Let us help you,” Jon held his hands out complacently.

“(Y/N/N), please. We don’t want to hurt you anymore than you already have been. Let’s go back inside,” Conner tried.

He watched as you walked away from them. “Jon, don’t-” Damian tried to call out as he saw Jon reach for you. Your demeanor suggested that another attempt to stop you would end up with one of your family hurt. You tossed him like a rag doll, dislocating his shoulder and pushing him hard enough in the wall to leave an imprint. Jon called out in pain as you walked away. Something was very wrong...and Damian was going to figure it out.

D.C. Loves

@jadedhillon @marvelite1998

Bats

@lettucewayne

Dickiebirds

@jadedhillon @actiongirl2005

Forever Tags

@miraclesoflove

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mattygraygubler · 4 years

Text

our campus: chapter 3 (tom holland fanfic)

summary: frat!tom and reader go to the same college and y/n is tasked with being his tutor, they don’t really get along at first (because i love reader and tom hating each other trope)

warnings: talk of being roofied, drinking

word count: 3.1k

a/n: more dialogue and texts????? someone come take my laptop away ALSO bold is texts or emails, u get it

for a list of characters click here

to be added to the tag list send me an ask !

masterlist

✰✰✰✰✰

“So???” Emily said immediately as you sat down at your usual table for lunch. You dropped your salad and slid into the seat next to Ally.

“So what?” You asked, even though you knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Tutor boy! Is he hot for teacher yet?” Emily said with a wink.

“God, Em, you’re the worst.” You replied.

“And you are avoiding the question.” Isabelle said as she grabbed your iced tea. “You can have this back after you dish.”

“Fine. His name is Tom Holland-” you were interrupted by Ally choking on her water, spitting all over her empty plate.

“Tom Holland?! God, Y/N, I am so sorry.” Ally said. “He’s the fucking worst.”

“What what what explain now.” Emily said in one breath.

“Ok so first of all he’s super hot, so no matter what he auditions for, he always gets cast. In fact, he’s currently starring in Romeo and Juliet, which if you remember I’m stage managing. So needless to say, I unfortunately have to work very, very closely with him.”

“Al, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Emily said giddily.

“For Y/N’s sake, I was praying it wasn’t him.”

“What was he like?” Isabelle asked you.

“Well he came up to me and hit on me before realizing I was his tutor.” You said, and then proceeded to tell the rest of the horrible story of your first encounter with Tom.

“Ohmigod he’s totally into you,” Emily said in one breath.

“Yeah, you need to stop tutoring him.” Isabelle said.

“Iz, are you INSANE?!” Emily replied.

“What? He’s obviously incredibly disrespectful. She shouldn’t waste her time.”

“Look, I’m gonna give him the benefit of the doubt. The second he breaks a rule, I’m done.”

“I love it when you give boys rules, it’s so hot,” Isabelle said and you all laughed.

The rest of the day passed by relatively quickly, and thankfully the delta nu meeting finished early, meaning you could get some work done before Tom showed up.

You were sat in the hlab, getting some work done for your political conflict class, when a figure slid in across from you, pulling one of your headphones out of your ear.

“Jess!” You greeted Jessie with a smile.

“I have goss.” She replied. Just like Jessie, always straight to the point, and always the center of gossip.

“About who?” You asked, intrigued.

“You.”

“Me?” She nodded, a giddy smile on her lips.

“Word around the quad is that a certain tutee of yours has a little crush.”

“Jessie, what are you talking about.”

“Tom told Harrison, who told James, who told Max, who told me that he said you were gorgeous and that he didn’t think he could work with someone he was so attracted to.” You rolled your eyes.

“What a bunch of bullshit. He’s just a horny frat boy.”

“Y/N! You LOVE horny frat boys!”

“Well he’s not my type.”

“How?! He’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“You fuck him then!”

“Believe me, I’ve tried.” Jessie said with a laugh. You raised your eyebrows. “Okay, I haven’t really tried, Max has this rule about me fooling around with his frat brothers.”

Max and Jessie were unseperable ever since freshman seminar, when Max came out as gay at an hc party and Jessie decided he was adorable and needed her protection. Since then, Jessie was a rock for Max, and no one, besides the juniors in hc, knew he was gay. Including his fraternity brothers.

“Whatever, I’m not interested.” You said.

“Y/N you truly are impossible sometimes. You’re never gonna get frat bingo until you get delt, and he’s a delt.” You sighed. After being roofied by a delt freshman year, you almost gave up on frat bingo. You would’ve been the first in your friend group to get it if you hadn’t given up on delt. Ally dropped out sophomore year, Isabelle fell behind when she got a boyfriend, and Emily was a bit behind you.

She would never admit it, but Emily was a prude. To an extent, of course. She played the flirt so well people didn’t realize that she rarely slept with guys, and never guys she didn’t know.

“Look I need some food. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jessie asked. You nodded, and immediately began texting your friends.

♡girly girls♡

You

ok we have an issue

What’s up?

You

well apparently tom told his frat brothers that he has a crush on me and doesnt want me to tutor him because hes “too attracted” to me

holy

fucking

shit

he did not

i said from the start this was a bad idea. do you like him N/N?

You

i mean not really. hes not my type.

of course he isnt, hes not emotionally unavaliable and incredibly intelligent but incredibly problematic

You

w o w way to read me to filth al

it had to happen

You

whatever its almost 915 so i better go

love u losers

You put down your phone, pulling out your political conflict textbooks and start reading. Soon, you were engrossed in the greek war of independence, completely forgetting where you were or what time it was.

Books did that to you too often. In fact, it made you insecure. For so long you didn’t think you were as smart as the other hc kids, you were just a fast reader. Freshman year, when you really got close to the other hc kids, you realized that they were your people. You belonged.

You glanced at your phone. 9:45. He was a half hour late.

You debated texting him, but decided against it. You would wait for him to show up, tell him he broke a rule, block his number, email G, and move on.

It took another ten minutes for him to show up.

“Evening sweetheart,” he said as he stumbled into the hlab, which was now completely empty except for you. He sat across from you and started unzipping his backpack.

“No need to unpack, this shouldn’t take long.” You said. He looked at you quizzically. “It’s two minutes before ten. You’re incredibly late, and my time is incredibly valuable. It’s also fairly obvious you’ve been drinking. I don’t have time for slobs who get drunk on a Monday and aren’t respectful to people who are giving up their time to help you.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder and started to walk out.

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re being dramatic. I promise I won't do it again.” He said from behind you. You stopped cold and turned slowly to face him, although he was still a good 10 feet away from you.

“Did you just call me… dramatic?”

“I’m sorry, darling, but you were-”

“Stop. Do not call me darling, and never, ever call a girl dramatic. I made myself crystal clear, both yesterday and today, you do not deserve my time, Tom Holland.”

“Y/N-”

“I truly wish you all the best and I hope you’re able to graduate, despite having less brain cells than a cantaloupe.” You felt your words sting him, but you didn’t care. He was disrespectful, he deserved it, you told yourself.

“Y/N.” He said, his voice cracking. He took a deep breath. “Please don’t leave. I’m sorry.” This was not what you were expecting from him.

He sighed, sitting on his chair. You cautiously leaned against the table behind you, looking at a boy close to tears.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for being late to our meeting, and I’m sorry for showing up drunk.”

“Tell me why.”

“I’m sorry?” He asked.

“Tell me why you’re late and why you’re drunk and I’ll consider helping you.” He looked at the ground again.

“Any chance I can get a shot first?” He jokingly said.

“You are already pushing your luck, Holland, do you really want to make it worse?”

“Fine, I’m sorry. I was late and drunk because I was embarrassed.” You raised your eyebrows. “To be honest, I knew who I was looking for yesterday. I hit on you to break the tension.”

“Why were you embarrassed? And, wait, you knew who I was?”

“I looked up your instagram before we met so I’d know who to look for, and I hit on you because I didn’t want you to help me.”

“And why were you embarrassed?” He started playing with the cuff of his sleeve, still not looking at you. “Tom.” You said, getting him to finally look at you.

“I was embarrassed because I’m flunking out of school and need a tutor, and my tutor asked me to meet in the most intense place on campus.”

“The hlab? Intense?”

“Y/N, you need to be, like, a genius to even be considered for this program. And here I am, a theater major who can’t even pass a class about the stars.”

“Astronomy is about a lot more than stars, if you bothered to open your textbook, you’d know that.” He stared at you, and you noticed tears coming to his eyes.

“I can’t be tutored. I can’t. I’ll figure something else out.” He hastily grabbed his backpack and prepared to walk out the door, but you grabbed his backpack, turning him around.

“Stop. Open your backpack.” He looked at you, confused, but obliged, holding the backpack open in front of you. You looked through it, noticing five notebooks, and a folder. You pulled it out, riffled through, and saw a schedule along with five syllabi. You nodded and looked back at him.

“The list?” You asked. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to you. It had the list of assignments you asked for. You nodded again.

“You need to be making a list like this every friday for the upcoming week, got it?” He nodded and then zipped his backpack, turning back to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked, your arms folded.

“Home?” He asked.

“Nope. Sit.”

“You mean…?” “You were disrespectful. I will not forgive you for that, but as your tutor, it’s my job to help you, no matter how stupid you act. And to be clear, I was not calling your intelligence stupid. I was referring to the fact that you already broke a rule, and of course, the unspoken rule of not showing up to sessions drunk.” He slid into the seat across from you and pulled out notebooks and pencils as you analyzed the list.

“Have you done any readings this week?” He shook his head. “When you’re in class, do you feel like the teacher is speaking another language and all the other students understand it but you?” “Yeah, how-”

“Look, Tom, I’m gonna share with you the biggest college hack there is. All lectures are is the professor talking about the reading and helping you to understand the material. You cannot possibly understand the lecture without doing the readings. Once you start reading, the lectures will make sense, even if you don’t understand the readings the first time you read them. Make sense?”

“Well, you said read a lot…” You raised your eyebrows. “No, no, that makes sense.”

“When you go to class this week, you need to be taking notes by hand. Statistically you’re much more likely to absorb the material that way, especially without the added distraction that is the internet.” He nodded.

“Last but certainly not least, we cannot start our work until you’ve done the readings. So I will see you Friday evening for a session, we’ll review the material of that week making sure you understand it, you’ll complete your homework on Saturday, and we’ll meet again Sunday night to review the homework before you hand it in. If need be, we can meet for a weekday session.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t question my methods. You are one more C- away from being kicked out of college. You like it here? Don’t wanna go back to the freezing rain in London? You’ll listen to me.” You packed your bag and Tom started to follow suit.

“Nope.” You said, placing a hand on the notebook he was about to put in his bag. “You’ll stay here and do your readings for the rest of the week. No matter how long it takes.” “But this is-” “Hlab? I’m aware, but I guess you haven’t noticed that literally no one is here. No one is going to be mad that you’re here. Just sit and read.”

“Y/N?” He called as you walked towards the door. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t like apologies, Tom. Stop apologizing, stop being embarrassed, and do better.”

You returned to your room, lying on your bed and opening back up your textbook, but not before texting your friends.

♡girly girls♡

You

just got back

howd it go???

You

he showed up 45 minutes late, drunk

so where are we meeting to bury his dead body?

You

very funny, Al

i wasnt joking.

wait he was drunk? on a monday? typical

so i guess you wont be seeing him again?

You were conflicted. You shared everything in your friends, but Tom was vulnerable with you and you didn’t want to betray his trust.

You

look we talked about it and he explained himself. im giving him one more chance.

seriously? im shook

You

whatever he made a good case

i think you just wanna sleep with him

You

i dont i promise you thats the last thing i wanna do

ive got 10 bucks they hook up before march 1st. anyone wanna take the over?

ill take that action, Y/N is stubborn as hell

You

you guys are the absolute worst. see you for lunch xox

It wasn’t long before you dozed off. Your alarm woke you up the next morning, your textbook still lying across your chest. You already had a few texts from your friends.

♡girly girls♡

al i just saw that cute girl with the purple hair u like

shut up em i dont like her

is she the one whose asm for romeo and juliet???

thats the one!

guys ! leave it, ok? shes straight

You

with that hair? i doubt it

You checked the rest of your messages, surprised to see a blue bubble next to Tom’s name.

Tom Holland

hey sorry but i dont think this is gonna work, sorry for waisting your time, ill tell gronsky to find me another tutor

You were shocked, quickly sending a text message to your group chat.

i thought you said everything was gucci ?

You

i thought it was….

pls text him back

You rolled your eyes, realizing Isabelle was right.

You

Stop being ridiculous. you misspelled “wasting”. dont forget handwritten notes in class today. ill see you friday.

He responded almost immediately.

Tom Holland

I wasnt dicking around. rlly. this isnt gonna work. i already emailed gronk.

You sent an updated screenshot to your group chat, rolling your eyes, right as an email alert popped up to the top of your screen.

TO: y/[email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Thomas tutoring

Hi kiddo,

Not sure if this is a mistake but Thomas just emailed me saying you would no longer be tutoring him? I thought you would be a good match for him… Take the rest of the week, talk to him, if he still doesn’t want you as his tutor let me know by Friday so I can try to find someone new to tutor him.

I know he can be challenging, but I’m sure you realize that’s exactly why I picked you. ;) (and also because no one else agreed to work with him)

You sighed. Of course. Typical G, giving you all the basket cases and expecting you to fix them. It was true, you never backed down from a challenge, but this one may not be for you.

You looked at your phone and pulled out Tom’s schedule from your backpack. He was finished with statistics in a half hour, just enough time for you to get ready and go to the math and science building.

You made it there with just a few minutes to spare. You stood outside the room, back against the wall, popping your bubble gum and waiting. The class let out, mostly sophomores giddily running off to lunch, obviously relieved to be done with class.

Tom was one of the last ones to leave the classroom, and as soon as he saw you he rolled his eyes.

“Hi Max,” you greeted Max who was walking next to him.

“Y/N,” he said with a smile.

“Are you TAing?” You asked, still completely ignoring Tom who was fidgeting in front of you.

“You know it.”

“Mind if I steal Tom?”

“No problem, see you at home dude,” he said and they did a stupid handshake.

“Walk me to lunch.” You said and started to walk towards the door. “That wasn’t a question, Thomas.” You said when you saw that he wasn’t following you. He quickly caught up to you, but not before you overheard a groan.

“Has anyone ever told you you are incredibly difficult?” He asked. You laughed, which surprised him.

“That really doesn’t bother me.”

“You can’t boss me around anymore, you’re not my tutor.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong. I am your tutor, therefore I can boss you around.”

“I fired you.”

“Good thing I don’t work for you, then.” He sighed.

“Y/N.” He said and stopped in the middle of the walkway.

“Thomas.” You said in the same tone.

“Why are you doing this?”

“A little bird who may or may not be Gronk told me that no one else would tutor you. So I am very sorry Mr. frat boy, but it looks like you’re stuck with me.” You turned and continued walking.

“Seriously?” He said as he fell into step with you again. “Pity?”

“Stop being difficult.” You said, smiling as you used his words against him.

“Whatever. I’ll give you a week before you give up.” You laughed.

“I don’t quit, Holland. I’m incredibly competitive and you will not win this fight.” He looked unhappy, but held the door to the dining hall for you.

You approached your usual table, Tom following close behind. You turned to him before taking your usual seat.

“I know you didn’t finish your readings last night. Go find a place to finish them. Take good notes. I’ll see you Friday at 4, if you’re late, there’s gonna be a problem.” He simply nodded and walked away, greeting some friends he knew in the cafeteria.

You turned to your friends, all of whom were suspiciously quiet.

“So…” Isabelle said, finally breaking the tension. “I guess you’re still tutoring him?”

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #frat!tom #imagine

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

Psycho Ex gets my egoless revenge with a side of heavy-duty karma.

The following story occurred over the course of 13-8 years ago, and I apologize preemptively for the length, because it is a bit involved.

I was in a relationship for 9 years with a girl I met in college. We broke up on the cusp of my 29th birthday. While breakups and divorce are never trauma-free, this one was as close to that as I believe is humanly possible to get, there were no fights and minimal drama, and I moved to a new city to get a fresh start and be nearer my dad/stepmom/half sisters, as I'm close to them and it was nice to have family during this. Get an apartment, start over, everything's good. Then I meet "her."

Things with her seemed good at first. She was the polar opposite of my ex. She's quiet yet nice, had her life relatively together (my first wife was very unfocused and horrible with money), physically a complete contrast, wild in the bedroom--I thought I had hit the jackpot.

Anyhoo, I fall for her hard. We have a whirlwind romance, move in shortly, and we have this glamorous life where we make good money (she was a corporate accountant, I had a decent small business, we're pulling in 150K+ combined), renting a luxury apartment, one car paid and the other brand new, no kids. Things are great, except that we drink too much together and some other underlying issues I'm blind to at the time. We get soused one night and drive to Vegas, and get married on the strip after 6 months of dating and 9 of knowing each other. The ink is barely dry on my divorce papers from version 1.0, but no matter, I'm in love. My family likes her overall. Her family loves me. We adopt cats. We talk about trying to have a kid.

We upgrade our life and take on more debt, just as the housing bubble bursts and the economy tanks, she loses a couple jobs due to her inability to show up on Mondays, and I start losing clients as the ones I have start cutting their advertising budget (my field). Things start to get pinched, and she first starts complaining, then gets petulant, because now we can't spend the way we used to, the quarterly mini-vacations dry up, plus we're cooking at home instead of going out to eat 4x a week. We basically stop having sex a little more than a year into the relationship (didn't realize it then, because I was dumb and love-blind, but she cheated on me during this period).seRealizing what we're up against with our normal bills plus our credit cards, I go out and get a job bartending at a posh resort, the only other real skill I have at the time that's marketable. I get two other part time gigs to help make ends meet. She still complains, and throws me an ultimatum before I even start getting paychecks, laying the blame at my feet. I say fine, screw this then. Had we stuck it out even a few more months, things would have started to turn a financial corner. Instead, she goes full two-faced, mean-spirited bitch on me. The night we first fight, she "attempts suicide" by scratching her wrist with a leatherman, then calls 911, gets admitted to the hospital (I arrive home to cops telling me this), and has the security guard toss me when I show up to see if she's okay because she doesn't want to talk to me. I use the quotes because there was a small collection of firearms nearby I bought for her target shooting hobby which were untouched, so it was obviously just a ploy for attention.

We basically fight for the next week, I give her everything she wants, which includes leaving the house, signing over my new truck to her, and only taking stuff I brought into the relationship, basically enough to fill a small storage space. She's financially pinched so I sell my office furniture for cash and don't even touch the bank account, just take my biz money and one CC I got separate from her. I go to the Bay Area for a few months, financially struggle, don't get the job I was sure was on lock. During this time, I have this revelation one evening--I drink too much and that it's caused a load of problems in my life, so I quit, and I haven't touched a drop since.

Broke and realizing nothing I try is working, I come back to town, live with my dad for a month, find a roommate, then a shit retail job (my business has dropped from 7-8K per month at its height to now around 500/mo), I bike everywhere bc I can't afford a car, and my credit is toast partially due to her love of spending on plastic, so I'm facing bankruptcy. I'm 31, and this is really humbling, but whatever, I'm alive, have dealt with hardship before, this won't last forever. She has kept her house, declared personal BK on her debts, keeps her car, and has been dating a series of men starting a couple weeks after we split. While I never asked the details, apparently she's also reached out to a few of my friends and badmouthed me a bit. This would be mildly annoying, but add in two factors--she's dragging her feet on the divorce due to not having money to file, keeps up contact on the pretense of us needing to talk, but plays emotionally manipulative head games during the whole sequence ("I've realized I still love you, that's why you can make me cry so easily," and other bullshit Hallmark movie lines like this). Also, we live in a suburb that's smaller and tightly knit, so multiple places I go to like my church, the bookstore I frequent, and the coffee shop right by my place, she talks endless shit to people. Says I was a cheater and physically/emotionally abusive (complete crap, but whatever), I'm stalking her, I supposedly stole tens of thousands of dollars from her, the whole nine. Some people actually believe her, I even get threatened by a wannabe biker one night that's literally twice my age with violence, itself a funny story but not the point.

Finally, after some more bullshit and back and forth, she leaves town (more falsehoods around this, including her borrowing a bit of money she didn't end up paying back, and sticking me with a massive overage on our cell bill right before we split the account). My dumb, trusting heart hurts but I'm mostly relieved to see the last of her, realizing she's only nice to me when she wants something. She goes to NY to shack up with another guy, gets pregnant 15 minutes later. Finally sends me divorce paperwork. I sign it and send back quickly, all notarized docs, everything organized and flagged. She attempts to be "friends" and I want no part of this BS. I'm businesslike, she gets upset. She screws up filing, blames me. I say "whatever," straighten out the court issues. One week after the divorce is finalized, the kid is born. No word from her after that for two years, thank god. I get a new career, start advancing in it, and start dating a new woman that I'm still with 10 years later. Weirdly enough, they knew each other, and she didn't like her, partially because one of my ex's infidelity partners was her ex-husband, during a time they were exploring patching things up for the kids' sake (though there were multiple reasons for her distrust, apparently she always gave my wife an icky intuitive feeling).

So flash forward two years. I get a call from my current squeeze. She's just talked to a friend who was also a very brief roomie of "her" after our split. She's breaking up with the baby daddy. There's a custody fight. He's saying he doesn't know if it's his. Will I help her? Well, it's the right thing to do, so even though I don't trust or particularly like her, I say yes. I get the call, and a sob story. Most of it doesn't add up--he took the kid, but thinks it's actually mine, to prove paternity I'd need to come to NY and take a paternity test at one of their facilities, also he hit her, put a GPS tracker on her car, brother is a Russian mobster who threatened her, all very far-fetched. Needless to say, even without this fanciful tale, I generally assume if this woman is talking, it's a lie, so I'm suspicious. Her lawyer calls me, and seems like a clueless shmuck. I get a letter from him, very unprofessional and not even on a letterhead (every other legal doc I've seen has "from the law offices of blah blah" on it, but this is literally just off a laser printer), and says, verbatim "I, M___ K___, am the ex-husband of J___ K___, and was married to her from 6/07-8/09. I have no legal interest in the child." Super shady.

Not wanting to end up in a situation where I've allowed myself to be legally fucked over, I make my own lawyer consultation appointment. Before I can even go, the baby daddy finds me on Facebook and sends me a message. Between calls with him, his lawyer, and the impartial lawyer NY state appoints for the child's welfare, I get a very different story. He knows it's his, he had a paternity test done on the sly at birth because she had been promiscuous before they got together, and she was pregnant so quickly he was concerned. They broke up because she was drinking too much, he busted her with a bottle of vodka as she was driving with the kid in the car. She stood up in court, claimed I was actually the father, and she had no idea where to find me (he found me in 10 seconds online, I'm a tech guy with massive social media presence, a tech blog, multiple writing credits on publications, my frigging name as a domain, plus I've had the same cell phone number for 14 years). Also the other BS was just that, he's an IT guy for a university and his brother works for a carpet cleaning chain, plus just like in our relationship, he never hit or stalked her, etc.

So she, not knowing what I know, starts sending me text messages. I say "Filled out and on its way back to your lawyer," and toss it in the trash. I'm so tempted to send her some poetic message about how the truth is coming back to haunt her, but I resist, because I'm not doing this for her, but rather for the sake of their son and his father, so let's keep my ego out of it. I provide legal statements to all in the court. Tell them I know it's not possibly mine because I hadn't been with her since April 15 of '08, kid's birthday is in Sept of '09 (I remember the date because, due to taxes, I got fucked twice that day). Explain when she was in NY, which is the likely dates of conception, prove I was thousands of miles away on the west coast. Tell them to look through her social media, where she meticulously tagged herself and took tons of pictures of even their mundane locations. Provide a blood sample to a local lab. Tell them salacious details about her drinking and occasional drug use, including her abused prescriptions and a previous hospitalization where she was held for psych eval due to taking way too many pills.

Court comes, and she gets blindsided. Stack of depositions and a collection of statements from me were what sealed the deal, apparently, and the incredibly stupid game she was running is fully exposed. Gets no custody, no support, supervised visitation once a week. I run into her ex-roomie, upset, but instead of giving her attitude, I just calmly tell her the scam J__ was running, then let her "pull out of me" the truth about our split. She's flabbergasted, but also a horrible gossip, so it gets around town like wildfire. People I barely know, including the aforementioned biker, all come up to me and apologize for misjudging me. I'm years past the stage of having any morbid curiosity to check her social media, but every few months she pops up as a "suggested friend," and I notice bemusedly the number of mutual friends plummets from triple digits to eventually 3. Baby's father sends me a massive Amex gift card for Christmas, as much as I make in a week at the time. I call and tell him I don't know if I can accept it, I don't want him or anyone to think I did this for a reward. He virtually begs, saying "you helped save my family. This is nothing in comparison. Thank you." We break down crying on the phone, and eventually form an odd, distant friendship based on mutual respect for each other. I even had dinner with him a couple times when I had to go to NY for biz over the years, and I always buy, because the poor guy has done enough and gone through enough having to coparent with this train wreck.

To this day, she's apparently struggling to stay sober (alcohol and other substances), and has minimal involvement in her child's life due to her inability to show up when expected. Baby daddy tells me she's been in legal trouble, financial issues up the ass, and a string of boyfriends that never last more than a few months. I'm doing well, got married again three years ago, raised step-children, am reasonably financially successful, and rather like my life. Granted, a large part of this story is just karma in action, but I feel like I did the right thing, wasn't petty, and what I did do hit her where it hurts.

TL;DR: Ex-wife fucks my life, destroys me financially, tries to trash my reputation, then tries to use me as a scheme in her custody battle years later. I talk to the court directly, work with the baby daddy's lawyers, and get her exposed for the psycho, lying wench she is. She loses custody, struggles, and the good people live mostly happily ever after.

(source) (story by heymomo7)

#prorevenge #by heymomo7 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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monkey-network · 5 years

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Good Stuff ~ Seven of the Season: SU Season 5

Wallop on my jollops, Batman, we got ourselves one of the best seasons of anime that I dare say will be the best of year in its entirety. I’m talking Mob Psycho 100 II like, holy shit, talk about doubling down on giving people a roller coaster of a time in the first month; it’s amazing. But enough about that, we’re talking about Steven Universe’s climatic season before Steven Universe 2 potentially blows us all away. Here be the TOP 7 Best Episodes of Steven U’s final season. Seven, because it’s lucky, babey. Okay *pops a beer* so....

Number 7: Can’t Go Back

It is something where I don’t hate Lapis as much as I’ve seen most else. So when we got an episode where Steven and Lapis get to casually talk to each other on the moon, I was definitely down with that. Wasn’t too big a fan of the musical number, but I liked that Steven and Lazuli just had a sincere yet casual chat about her situation after jetting off, Lapis coming to terms with her more aloof character, something I wanted more of from this series. However, the ending definitely set this back. In the sense that Lazuli was surely coming around, at the very least work through to shed off the fears she possessed previously, those doubts and anxieties are unnecessarily strengthened as the Pink Diamond plot gets in the way with Steven not even trying to stop and ease Lapis’ panic mode after his nightmare; practically made the episode just feel like set up for the Rose Quartz twist in that instant when it didn’t have to and Lazuli’s turnabout in Reunited feel slapdash. The casualness or laid back atmosphere of this is what I say made this episode in the list, but, with all due respect, fuck that ending.

6. Change Your Mind

It’s safe to say I was thoroughly entertained from this finale like my god, it just went all out with giving people the confrontation of a lifetime and I can’t stay mad at it. But, on rewatch, it loss the enticement when it’s pretty by the book. If Steven wasn’t Pink, I’d have no doubt that not only would this have been different, but would’ve been a whole lot challenging for Steven and everyone in its entirety. But for this, it’s kinda the prime example of why I see many be frustrated with this show: because you’re either with it and applaud it for its efforts or sit there empty or disappointed the second you turn your brain on and try to process what legit happened. And for me, the diamonds having a change of heart in their more abusive connection with Pink, Steven fusing with everyone, White Diamond not even fighting for her worldview after getting roasted one time, didn’t feel earned as it did just fall in place for Steven, the exception being his connection with Pink Steven. Everyone was just on the same page by the end, except for those forced shard fusions who writhe and scream in constant pain and agony, reaching out to escape their torment after the Diamonds approved experimentation on them; the ones who can't be fixed. I bet they're okay with the Diamonds laughing it up with Steven at a pool party. And as bombastic and emotionally charged as it was as a entertaining episode, it lacked coordination or a good semblance of logic to be a good episode.

Number 5: Pool Hopping

Honestly Garnet getting to act more eccentric, hanging out with Steven, is what made this episode stand out at first, but to see her acknowledge Steven’s growth, changing her perspective on him, is what made this a stand out episode. I like how this is parallel to season one’s Future Vision except it’s at no one’s fault and Steven is more comfortable with the unpredictability of things compared to beforehand. And what’s especially poignant about this is that it serves as both a standalone that genuinely felt like a “Season 5″ episode and in hindsight a great preface to Ruby and Sapphire’s arc later on. It’s pretty middle on the list because the next entries have a little more to them, but I nonetheless say this a great episode for Garnet.

Number 4: Reunited

I’d say any criticisms I have for this were how I felt about Change Your Mind but not as heavy. It was all entertaining, but loses momentum when you bother turning your brain on for a bit. Like, even on my first viewer, knowing full well that Steven is Pink, I figured soon as the Diamonds would arrive that “Ah, Steven’s gonna make them open up their eyes,” which initially diminished any impact the whole fight scene had on me; making it more of a laughable tussle then a serious root worthy standoff. It’s kinda hard to feel invested when you feel the protag’s not gonna lose in any semblance! But, what makes this generally better than Change Your Mind is the wedding part of it all. Man, if this episode was just about the wedding, it would’ve been #1 no question. The musical, the ceremony, Rubes and Sapphy in general, it all just came together like quality fettuccine! I’m a sucker for weddings and that was one of the best moments of the show.

Number 3: Escapism

I’ve already talked about this episode, almost ad nauseam, so if you wanna know more about why I say it’s the best of the Diamond Days arc, links here, here, and here. But long story short, this was an episode that utilized the point of the title extensively. In contrast to Steven and Connie’s barren situation, the episode was an escapism in a literal and figurative sense and even then, it’s one where Steven had to genuinely fight to get the ending he wanted. Reminded me a lot of one of my all time favorite books, The Odyssey. It’s one where I genuinely empathized with the kid’s struggles since he found his situation dire and serious. It was mostly absent of dialogue which made the visuals stand out more to me. And really, I had a laugh at how Steven was done with this shit which made his successes feel more.... gratifying, lack of a better term. And the cherry on top was the musical number, which had me thinking of its purpose for once. Needless to say, I enjoyed thinking about this episode.

Number 2: Back to the Kindergarten

This episode is an earnest time waster. I mean that as a big compliment and because it literally amounts to Peridot wasting time on futile efforts to come to a valid sense of self actualization. Seems episodes containing the shorty squad with Scallion head as the central focus amount to the most meaningful slice of life episodes and I’m for episodes like this. Raising the Barn was generally boring until the end, but this episode makes up for that with a solid experience for Peridot handling the aftermath of Lapis abandoning her. Amethyst was a direct, yet necessary push for Peridot to head to the Kindergarten, especially when she herself was pumped to go now knowing her lineage, and it was neat how Peridot’s newfound colorful perspective shined a profound light on how the Kindergartens were harmful to Earth. Even Steven was a great backbone to the others, being a good team player to both Peridot and Amethyst when they briefly tag teamed to be Smokey. While I was questioning why the trio were planting sunflowers in a place… devoid of sunlight, the end where Peridot looks over the leviathan batch of ‘em, signifying the vast opportunities she still has while alive, in comparison to the first train ride she had where she sulked away from the scenery, was a lovely feel to look back on. This was an enjoyable watch the whole way through and a good episode to think about from time to time. But I’d expect nothing less for best Crystal Gem.

Honorable mentions: Jungle Moon, The Trial, The Question, A Single Pale Rose

Number 1: What’s Your Problem?

My only complaint for this episode is the beginning where Amethyst is more callous than before, being generally ignorant to Pearl and Sapphire sobbing right in front of her. I understood what she was going for, doesn’t diminish the episode, but the writers made her sound pretty out of character. A great joke in this is when Amethyst tries to literally jet off and for a split second, I forgot that Steven can jump high and seeing him pounce at her just caught me off guard. Then we have the end, where, after trying to help him open up, Ame tells Steven that she’s tired of him having to carry the others’ melancholic baggage and that he deserves to have a voice for himself. And that… stuck with me, resonated with me because her putting her foot down felt honest, sincere, and to the point. And man, if I can resonate with a Steven Universe episode at this state, someone did something objectively right. I especially like that after her big moment, she playfully recoiled when Steven casually gave her a compliment to think about. I’d say it showed that Steven does want to express his feelings, but he feels that venting isn’t gonna resolve much like how it used to. It showed the two supporting each mutually without having to feel sorry for themselves. This episode not only boosted my love for Amethyst, other best Crystal Gem, her and Steven’s sibling bond over time, culminating to this moment, is what I enjoyed most about this series. If more episodes was like that third act, I would praise this show a whole lot more.

Won’t lie, got mixed feelings about this season. On one hand, it’s the Kingdom Hearts 3 of this series where there’s some finality to it, there was quite a lot to enjoy, and I feel relieved sticking by it the whole way. On the other hand, the majority of episodes didn’t faze me as much and it felt exhausting actually getting some finality to this series since this season took almost two years to premiere everything. At the very least, I’m optimistic in the fresh start SU 2 will potentially bring with the movie this coming fall; it’s gonna be the Knack 2 of Cartoon Network. In any case, my kudos to the crew for this series and their dedication* to it.

#steven universe #su #su critical #cartoons #reviews #long post #Good Stuff

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careycuprisin · 3 years

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Bear 100 🐻 Race Report: You Have to Run the Downhills

The past isn’t made of facts, not really, just stories people tell to make themselves feel better.

— Joe Abercrombie, The Wisdom of Crowds

Dear Reader: why are you reading this race report?

If you’re a runner looking to do this race and want info, read sections II, III, VI

If you’re wanting a narrative story about the day, read II, III

If you want to know whether my drop was righteous or wimpy, read III, IV, VII

If you want information about my kit and equipment, read VI

If you’re a geeked-out nerd person, or a strategy junkie whose idea of ‘fun’ is destroying Logic Men on Twitter, or an aspiring ‘life coach,’ read I

I. META-STUFF ABOUT RACE REPORTS: When you finish a race like the Bear 100 (by which I mean wrapping up the weekend, whether your efforts got you an official finish or a drop somewhere along the course), you are left with an enormous heap of impressions and recollections and thoughts and analyses and excuses and explanations. Most of these are true, but they are not all necessarily coherent when combined with all the rest, and (more importantly) they are not always helpful. The job of writing a race report like this involves sorting through all of these thoughts and selecting a coherent narrative that makes sense.

That’s the easy part. A lot of possible, true, narratives make sense. How to choose among them? If you plan to enter races like this one in the future (as I do), the narrative that you construct in your race report will be also be useful to you later, guiding you to make better decisions for future races based on your experiences in this one. This process will inevitably favor some impressions and analyses over others, and as the memories of the race fade, the race report will harden into the Narrative Story of My Race, which will be coherent, true, and (if I do it right) helpful to me in future races.

As an example of the difference between helpful and unhelpful stories, an unhelpful story might be, “I didn’t do as well in this race as I’d hoped because I have no natural talent” or “the aid stations stocked Heed and Heed is disgusting.” These might both be true, but if that’s your story, how do you fix it? You can’t, so it’s not helpful. Heed is ubiquitous at aid stations in races all over the country. A helpful story, in contrast, might be something like, “I didn’t eat enough” or “I started too fast” or “I wore the wrong shoes” or “I didn’t do enough weekly mileage to prepare for this race.” All of these things are something you can act upon to get better results at the next race.

II. THE UNFOLDING OF THE RACE: I got out of bed at 0350 and was full of coffee and on the start line by 0600. It was still dark. Chilly but not cold. I was unfortunately wearing the New Balance Minimus shoes that I’d driven to Logan in, because I’d forgotten to pack the actual Salomon S-Lab Sense 8s that I wanted to use for the first twenty mile section. Making do!

I was somewhere in the middle of the pack when we finished the three or four blocks of residential street and funneled into the single track trail headed up Logan Dry Canyon. The conga line wasn’t too annoying, except for the guy ahead of me who was one of those guys who like to play music on speakers during a race so everyone around him can share his obvious love for Rob Zombie. The view of Logan as we got higher and the sun rose was spectacular. (Most people are still pretty energetic during this section so you’ll find videos of this aplenty on YouTube if you search for “Bear 100.”)

I should mention the hornets. There were a lot of them along the course all day and they were stinging people left and right. I’m used to living a charmed life, so I was not too surprised when the hornets spared me. Thank you, hornets.

After the initial long climb there are some rollers and I ran them easily. My downhill pace was much faster than most of the crowd I’d been with on the way up. A Utah resident named Kalina ran with me for a while and kept me from doubting my judgment that I was going downhill at a reasonable pace. Alas! This was the last time I’d pass a significant number of people (this is called ‘foreshadowing’).

Near the end of the rolling section Kalina dropped me and everyone else around her like a sack of potatoes on some short uphills and I never saw her again. She ended up finishing in around 27 hours (maybe I should have doubted my judgment). We meandered over to the big downhill into Leatham Hollow and I am sad to report that halfway down this beautiful descent I was losing the ability to run downhill. Basically leg and knee and foot pain with everything tightening up. And so it had begun — people passing me. So it would continue.

I got out of the the Leatham Hollow aid station with 5:04 elapsed, which was pretty much on my best-case-scenario pace for the overall race. I had my first drop bag there with beefier shoes, so I put them on, ditched the long shirt I wore at the start in favor of a tank top, and moved on.

Next was a flat-ish dirt road over to the Richards Hollow aid station, about three miles away (23-ish race miles total). It was mid-day and it was now hot in the sun but still cool in the shade. I tried the trick of running the shady parts and hiking the sunny parts. After the aid station the course settles into the classic Bear 100 pattern: low aid station, then big climb and descent to the next aid station. This climb was sunny and hot and I got up ok, but the next downhill was a mess. I couldn’t PAY people to not pass me. That’s what happens when you’re not running the downhills! I came into Cowley Canyon aid station knowing that a 30-hour finish was unlikely but, hey, a finish of any kind is still fabulous. I took a little longer in the aid station then I’d like on a good day, but then was off.

The Bear 100 pattern of up-down continued through the Right Hand Fork and Temple Fork aid stations. The little creek going into Right Hand Fork had some of the most beautiful beaver ponds I’ve ever seen: clear water that let you see right to the bottom with bright green plants floating on top. Another thing about Right Hand Fork — there was a pickup truck in the parking lot with big white lettering on the windows: Search Dog, Do Not Disturb. I looked closely at the truck but couldn’t see the search dog. Needless to say I was mildly disappointed (this is another example of foreshadowing).

I had pretty much been suffering ever since Richards Hollow but I started to feel a little bit better coming into Temple Fork just before it got dark. This was probably just a function of it not being hot any more. I was off pace but dealing with it. Physically feeling generally weak and miserable but mentally very sharp, and emotionally pretty stable. I got my headlamp out of my drop bag, put on a long-sleeve shirt, a light hat, and a wind jacket for the chill that set in immediately when the sun went down, and headed uphill again.

III. THE DROP: Climbing up to the Twin Creek aid station at the about the 50-mile mark (the Tony Grove substitute aid station for 2021) it was predictably dark and, thanks to the dry air, quickly getting colder and colder. The good vibes quickly fell away. I wasn’t able to eat anything because of nausea, so progress was reasonably slow up the climb. Some runners about twenty feet ahead of me startled a beaver and I heard its tail slap against the water of its pond. (And, since I remember it clearly now, at least I must not have been completely delirious then.) So long as I was climbing I was warm enough, but the nausea was getting worse and worse, and if I tried to fight the nausea by taking my foot off the gas a bit, I quickly got too cold and started shivering. I was stuck between my GI tract requiring that I decrease my physical exertion so it could start to function again, and a dependence on continued exertion to generate enough heat. A catch-22 that most people who’ve run a 100-mile race will probably recognize.

When I got into the aid station at Twin Creek, I went into the warmed tent with the intention of relaxing for fifteen minutes to half an hour to give my stomach an opportunity to wake up. (Was that a mistake?) The plan was to eat and drink some things, put on some warmer clothes from my drop bag, and get out. Depending on who I talked to, it was somewhere between 12 and 14 miles to the next aid station at Franklin basin. This was the longest distance between any two aid stations in the race. I still had plenty of time before the cutoff.

Sadly, fifteen and then thirty minutes came and went and I was not recovering. The nausea wouldn’t go away and I was still shivering vigorously even in the warming tent after I’d put on warmer clothes and gotten under a reflective space blanket. The cutoff time got closer, and the decision became more and more about whether I should set off for another 12 (let’s be optimistic) miles without any food in the stomach, to try to get to the next aid station before I got hypothermic. It was unlikely that I’d get to Franklin Basin by 2 am, which is the time I figured I had to be there to have a reasonable chance of finishing the whole race in 36 hours. Ultimately I decided that the risks weren’t worth the increasingly unlikely reward. So I dropped. Nothing too unusual here, just weighing probabilities and applying my own risk tolerance to various decisions. This is probably what most people do when they DNF a race.

Grrr. Very mad. Many F-bombs.

IV. WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE DIFFERENTLY? I think this is a mandatory question after a DNF, because I HATE drops and it’s not worth protecting my ego if it means I overlook mistakes and fail to handle the next similar situation in a better way. With the caveat that this is all in retrospect, and that my current comfort might be obscuring an accurate recollection of how feeble I was at the time, here is what I would do:

I would still wait in the aid station to give the shivering and nausea a chance to go away, but when they did not stop, before I dropped, I’d get up, put some snacks into a little bag I could take with me, and continue out of the aid station with the intention of going a half-mile down the trail to see what happened. If things were still shitty the whole way, then I could turn around and head back and I’d only have a half-mile return trip to safety.

V. THE SEARCH DOG, or, AFTER THE DROP: After two or three hours of lying on the cot in the Twin Creek aid station with a few other people and their pacers who had dropped, a guy named Rob arrived in an ATV and four of us piled in. Rob drove us down to Franklin Basin with full-bright headlights lighting up the rough two-track and the cold wind blowing in our faces. It was my first ride in an ATV! After we’d arrived at Franklin, I made sure to compliment him on his driving (he was obviously, even to an ATV virgin like me, very good at it). I immediately went into the warming tent at Franklin and settled in until I could find a ride, ideally back to my car at the Logan start line, but willing to simply be shuttled along to further aid stations if that were necessary.

Most of the people arriving to Franklin were in bad shape, and either dropped there or struggled out just ahead of the generous (in my opinion) cutoff time of 4 am. Like I said before, I doubted there was much chance of making the overall race cutoff of 6pm if you weren’t out of Franklin by 2 am, absent a resurgence of speed later in the night or when the sun came up. (There is an objective way to check if I’m wrong or not, but I haven’t done it because at this point, I don’t want to look at the results!) Anyway, most of the people leaving Franklin were leaving with their crews on the way to Beaver Creek lodge. I kept waiting for someone who could give me a ride to Logan, and the odds looked slimmer and slimmer. Well after the 4 am cutoff time, a woman walked in with a four-month-old golden retriever puppy who I immediately made friends with because the puppy wanted to chew on my hand and I let him. He wasn’t biting hard! Turns out the puppy’s owner was crewing someone who came in with her pacer around 6 am after having taken about six hours to make the trip from Twin Creek. This runner’s dad was also crewing; he asked if I needed a ride and was happy to take me back to Logan. So I struggled out of the warming tent and whoa! Remember back at Right Hand Fork aid station where I’d seen that pickup truck with ‘Search Dog, Do Not Disturb’ on the window? That was his truck, and the golden retriever puppy was his Search Dog! Turns out, he had two full-grown trained search dogs and this puppy was going to follow along after them when he grew up. So, happily, I got to ride back to my car in Logan with a very nice family and a very nice little pup.

The Search Dog!

Inside the Search Dog truck

VI. THE KIT: The most notable thing about my gear was that I wore the new High Capacity Running Vest from Naked Sports Innovations. It’s an extremely tight running vest with a front zipper. I like to call it a Sports Bra for Men. I thought it worked pretty well and I will probably wear it again. The advantages are that it’s very lightweight, you can pack a lot of shit into it if you have to, and because it’s so tight, there is zero bouncing of your water bottles or other gear when you’re running. The disadvantages are also related to its being so tight. There were times when my chest felt kind of sore, and I wondered if the vest was compressing my ribs a little too much. The other problem is that zipping it up in front can be difficult if your vest is fully loaded because, again, it’s very tight. Also, when you add layers for the night section, you have to add them on top of the vest or risk it being even tighter if you bulk up your chest with extra layers under the vest. My solution will probably be to buy another vest one size bigger for long races or when I plan to be wearing layers. It costs a lot of money, but so do other vests, and at least I’m not a triathlete so all my gear compared to that sport is CHEAP.

In addition to the vest, I also wore a Naked running band. Both the vest and the belt have good mechanisms for stashing folded-up poles. I had poles, which were very useful after thirty miles for both climbs and descents. I wore the Salomon Ultra Glide shoes for everything after the 20-mile aid station, and they worked great. Because I forgot to pack the Salomon S-Lab Sense 8 shoes that I had planned to wear at the start, I was forced to wear my New Balance Minimus shoes from the start to 20 miles, which did cause some plantar irritation and ankle soreness on the long downhill into Leatham Hollow. I think these shoes are great but only for distances less than ten miles (and never for gravelly surfaces with inch-wide rocks that can dig into your feet).

I used SkratchLabs and Ultima electrolyte mix in order to avoid the aid-station Heed (which is disgusting), and carried Spring Energy gels. I had the cheapest salt tabs I could find at REI. Goodr sunglasses and wool socks which I changed a few times. I had no blisters, no sunburn, and no injuries!

The obligatory pre-race kit photo

VII. THE AFTERMATH AND THE ANALYSIS: It’s never fun or satisfying to have to drop from a race. The good news is that this DNF wasn’t entirely surprising in retrospect. It was exactly what I deserved! Looking back on this summer, I basically just fucked around and did way too little preparation for this race. I had only one training run of greater than 20 miles and hadn’t raced at all this summer. I never really got out into the mountains and didn’t go up any fourteeners this year. The covid withdrawal from the world was probably part of this; I was just waiting stuff out. I had signed up for the Bear a year ago and frankly, wasn’t excited about it until about a month before the race. There were two or three weeks where I went back and forth about starting, and by the time I’d firmly decided to do it, there wasn’t enough time to actually train for it.

Another bit of good news is that unlike the Bighorn 100 where I felt I *had* to keep coming back every year until I finished that race, I do not think that way at all about the Bear 100 (probably because I’ve already finished one 100M race and I’m comfortable with not being a super-fan of 100s.) I enjoy this race and will likely come back to try it again, but I don’t feel *obliged* to.

The third bit of somewhat good news is that this failure at the Bear rekindled a bit of enthusiasm for actually preparing myself to do well at a race. On the drive home from Utah I was thinking about how I’d structure my season in order to do well at the Bear, and I think that’s a pretty good sign!

VIII. SO, HOW WOULD YOU STRUCTURE YOUR SEASON? Whatever it takes to be able to run the downhills after twenty miles! More specifically I suspect the best preparation for me for a fall 100 would be one or two 50 milers earlier in the summer. For the Bear, I would do the Pikes Peak Ultra 50M in July and maybe an earlier-season 50 like Quad Rock or Behind the Rocks. I’d probably tune up with something like the Telluride Mountain Run in August. In addition, I’d do a few more longer runs during the summer like Gold Hills or a Doug Loops or Morrison Triples, and I would do some above-treeline tundra adventures. All of this just to build a bit of endurance and let me RUN THE DOWNHILLS at the Bear. 🐻

Links

Strava GPS record for my race

Bear 100 website

Bear 100 Facebook group

Bear 100 YouTube videos

#bear 100 #trailrunning #rockymountainrunners

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samosoapsoup · 3 years

Text

POINT OF NO RETURN

ART FORUM

Alex Kitnick on the discontent with museums

“WHEN DISCONTENT WITH MUSEUMS is strong enough to provoke the attempt to exhibit paintings in their original surroundings or in ones similar, in baroque or rococo castles, for instance, the result is even more distressing than when the works are wrenched from their original surroundings and then brought together.” This is Theodor Adorno in his great essay “Valéry Proust Museum,” first published in German in 1955, a moment of reckoning and reconstruction. Though Adorno doesn’t specify why the attempt to return and repatriate is more upsetting than the original rift and reassembling of modernity, it is clear that we are in a similar moment of discontent again today—and that we, too, must consider our desires and the effects they might produce.

In May this past year, the director of Florence’s Uffizi, Eike Schmidt, announced a proposal to return a number of the museum’s religious paintings to churches (if not to the exact ones the paintings came from, then at least to similarly Christian places of worship). At first glance, this seemed like a not-terrible idea; after all, I have seen Caravaggio’s Inspiration of Saint Matthew, 1602, tucked into its nook in San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome and felt that awed feeling of witnessing a thing where it was meant to be seen, in situ. Schmidt had apparently absorbed all the postmodern lessons of site specificity, about what is lost when something is picked, pried, or stolen from its original context. (“To remove the work is to destroy the work,” I could almost hear Richard Serra say.) But as I thought more about his proposal, the deep anti-modernism of the gesture struck me: The idea, after all, is not simply to relocate the paintings but to change their natures, transforming them from secular things worthy of contemplation into devotional images deserving of worship. Even if Schmidt is somehow historically right—in other words, even if he is being faithful to how artists intended their work to be seen—he is nevertheless revoking the experience of modernity that has descended upon these paintings.

When a painting was taken off the wall of the church and brought into the gallery of the museum, we were asked to look at it differently than the artist intended. Broken out of its original lifeworld and turned into a fragment (this is the original crime Adorno speaks of), the artwork became secular, a relic of another time and place, patched together with relics from other times and places. (“It would be an act of madness to enter a museum, kneel down before a painting of the virgin to pray for a soldier missing in battle, lighting a candle and leaving an offering on the floor near the picture before leaving,” Philip Fisher noted in 1975.) It is lost and adrift, yes, but it is also transformed, and here we find the other edge of the sword: One begins to draw connections the artist never imagined. That is the quixotic, heady power of the museum, the birth of which, one might go so far as to say, demands the death of the author. No works made before 1860 were meant to be contemplated in quite the same way—as Foucault reminds us, Manet was the first painter to imagine his paintings in the museum—but nothing that goes into it can resist its power. In this sense the museum is akin to the commodity system, another modern invention: Artworks confront all other artworks within its space. Inside, they change orientation, speak differently, take on new lives, assume new values. The viewer is charged with wondering about their potential, purchase, and power.

To describe the Uffizi plan as anti-secular and anti-modern is not to say that every repatriation shares these characteristics. In general, stolen things should be given back, and the past few years have seen many struggles for restitution that are undeniably just. In 2018, scholars Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy of the Collège de France released a brilliant report, commissioned by President Emmanuel Macron, urging the return of plundered African objects to their native lands: “African cultural heritage can no longer remain a prisoner of European Museums,” Macron’s Twitter account proclaimed. It is hard to argue against this move even if the proposed return is to some extent symbolic, and one might ask if European museums are not also attempting to divest themselves of a troubling colonial history: While France is much less likely to give back all the resources it plundered over the longue durée of colonialism, the return of objects might still pave the way for other forms of remuneration and justice; in their report, Sarr and Savoy note that restitution opens the “question of building bridges for future equitable relations.” Importantly, they are just as invested in the experience of confronting the objects themselves. As Sarr and Savoy put it, “To fall under the spell of an object, to be touched by it, moved emotionally by a piece of art in a museum, brought to tears of joy, to admire its forms of ingenuity, to like the artworks’ colors, to take a photo of it, to let oneself be transformed by it: All these experiences—which are also forms of access to knowledge—cannot simply be reserved to the inheritors of an asymmetrical history, to the benefactors of an excess of privilege and mobility.” If repatriated objects are unlikely to return to their original contexts, Sarr and Savoy insist, they must be displayed in necessarily “unoriginal” ways—in other words, in a museum.

The museum reveals the artwork’s potential precisely by negating it.

A LOT HAS CHANGED in the past forty or so years. If the postmodernism of the 1980s considered the museum to be in crisis and contemplated its “ruins,” today many see these same institutions as frustratingly intact, as bulwarks against change, citadels to be stormed. (Even ten years ago, the Left’s critique of museums was simply that they had transformed from civic sites to experiential fun houses. “The late-capitalist museum” was understood to be a space of spectacle, not BlackRock lucre.) Where an earlier generation of artists associated with institutional critique pointed to the museum’s genetic incoherence, as well as to the incursion of corporate interests, today the museum itself stands as a purveyor of systemic and symbolic violence. “The very foundation of the museum is carceral and colonial, and thus ableist,” artist Carolyn Lazard claimed in a recent interview. “Once we abandon the solidity of the museums’ justifications for existing, we might be able to invent new forms and new models of making.” Lazard is not alone in their thinking, but plans of attack have taken different approaches. In a recent exhibition detailing the role of slavery in the British empire and its afterlife in institutions of contemporary art, artist Cameron Rowland mortgaged the mahogany doors and handrails at the Institute of Contemporary Arts, London, installed by the extravagant George IV—thus making a strike against the host institution, while at the same time acknowledging, by staging the exhibition, that the artist is bound to it. (Even as the institution’s hardware remains intact, its value is drained—the site becomes indebted.) And many others, artists and art workers alike, have occupied the museum in similar ways, sometimes to drain it but just as often to reenergize it. One of the most affirming aspects of the protests against Warren Kanders’s trusteeship of New York’s Whitney Museum of American Art, which sprang up around the 2019 Biennial, was how many people claimed the institution as their own and insisted that their voices be heard there too. While the ultimately successful campaign to oust Kanders from the board neither erased his tear gas from the world nor purified the institution, it did mark an ethical position that had potentially political effects: For who, more people might ask, would want to break bread with a person like this?

Needless to say, we cannot undo the history of the museum, but neither should we invest blindly in its current state of affairs; we have to recognize it for what it has done, what it is capable of, and what it might do. Contra Adorno, the museum is no longer a mausoleum: His claim that the museum only exists out of “historical respect” has ceased to be the case. Indeed, the museum today is expected to be a center of attention and an active agent in culture to satisfy the “needs of the present,” but as much as it tries to stay up-to-date, it cannot help but deploy its age-old techniques—and this is not wholly a bad thing. After all, the museum is one of the few devices that can make the royal democratic, the private public, the sacred profane. It can switch contexts and create distance. It can bring things to light.

I am trying to argue here for the possibility of a productive alienation, a salutary anti-immediacy. In a sense, the museum reveals the artwork’s potential precisely by negating it: “Works of art,” Adorno insists, “can fully embody the promesse du bonheur only when they have been uprooted from their native soil and have set out along the path to their own destruction.” This is not quite as perverse as it sounds. Art is different than reality; it is one way of thinking about it and contemplating it. In his 1917 essay “Art as Device,” Viktor Shklovsky noted art’s strange-making powers, its ostranenie, its ability to defamiliarize. The device of art, however, resides not only in its objects but in its institutions—in other words, the artmaking, strange-making device par excellence may be the museum itself. And this strangeness, my substitute word for autonomy, is what grants the museum its privileged position not outside, but adjacent to, life—a place where life might be seen, queried, and discussed.

But must modern museums sit on endlessly growing piles of capital in order to do this work? Each expansion the museum makes not only creates room for more art but also builds a structure ever more costly to maintain—indeed, its incessant territorial expansionism might be one of its most colonial traits, apart, of course, from the encyclopedic museum’s mission to universalize (and centralize) by plunder. Hito Steyerl has written powerfully of what she calls the “poor image”—a digital file that is circulated, amended, shared, and cared for by many. What it loses in quality, in resolution, she claims, it gains in history. Now might be the time to imagine a “poor institution,” a place infiltrated by many that values community over control. What would a “poor” Whitney look like? A “poor” Guggenheim? A “poor” MoMA? Might they keep exhibitions up longer and dig more deeply into their permanent collections, enfranchise educators and dock executive pay? In other words, change structurally instead of signify differently? This is not a plea for populism, to pander to the people, but rather a call to recognize the many invested in, and identified with, institutions. Discontent with museums is productive. Unless we reimagine them radically, they may well become the baroque and rococo castles in which much art was first housed.

https://www.artforum.com/print/202101/alex-kitnick-on-the-discontent-with-museums-84657

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sinrau · 4 years

Link

Trump Surrendered America to Coronavirus — and Americans are Paying the Price

The Three Fatal Mistakes That Made Coronavirus Explode in America — and What Happens Next

There are some charts that, becoming famous in history, are worth a thousand and more. The above is one of them. Entire books can and will be written about it. It tells the tale of a tragedy so bizarre and surreal that it’s going to be remembered as one of modern history’s greatest catastrophes: how Trump’s America botched and bungled a pandemic, until it finally exploded, and the death toll reached into the hundreds of thousands, on the scale of a world war.

The chart above contains many, many strange and terrible lessons. Let me unpick three fatal mistakes, which, together, are how Trump surrendered America to Coronavirus — and it’s Americans who paid the ultimate price.

The first thing to note is that America’s line and Europe’s line don’t start at the same time. America’s line — the beginning of a pandemic — lags Europe. By a few weeks, perhaps a month or so.

Those days were critical. Here’s what should have happened — in any sane and normal society. Seeing a mighty storm coming their way, the hatches should have been battened down.

America had something priceless, a gift: it had advance warning of the deadliest pandemic in modern history. A full month or so of it. What could and should have been done? Every kind of preparation could have been made.

Like what? Testing centers could have been opened. People could have been warned, educated, informed. Lockdowns could have been prepared — serious ones, like Europe’s, not like much of America’s half-hearted ones (“bars can open at 50% capacity.” What the?) People could have been made ready for lockdown, emotionally, psychologically, socially. Economic support could have been put in place.

In other words, there was a critical period during which the pandemic was exploding in Europe — but hadn’t yet arrived on America shores. That was the time a national strategy and plan should have been crafted in America.

What happened instead — what actually took place during those critical few weeks? The answer is: nothing much. Unfortunately, America’s led by Donald Trump, who’s still supported by an army of American Idiots. Instead of taking advantage of those critical few weeks…Trump denied there was a pandemic. Then he minimized it, saying that everything would be fine. Needless to say, no national strategy — nothing even remotely resembling a national plan — occurred in America.

The result was that the pandemic took America by surprise. Americans didn’t expect it, by and large, to wreak the terrible damage it did. Many of them still don’t believe it. State after state was caught unprepared.

Nothing — and I mean nothing — was learned from Europe’s experience. When Coronavirus finally touched down in America, Americans were largely bewildered by the arrival of a deadly virus — although most of Europe had by now seen the horror it could wreak. What the?

“But what else did you expect?” history will probably say. America had no leadership, really, warning Americans that a pandemic was coming. The President was busy denying it and minimizing it. Even the opposition didn’t really seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

Fatal mistake number one: Coronavirus could have been mitigated to a serious and large degree in America, because it arrived last among rich countries — and lessons could have been learned, preparations could have been made, a strategy formed.

Everything from PPE could have been stockpiled to preventive lockdowns enforced to preventive test-and-trace put in place to emergency testing centers opened to temporary hospitals constructed to oxygen supplies and ventilators mass produced. But nothing was done.

Trump was already surrendering America to Coronavirus, by doing nothing, pretending no catastrophe was about to occur — so what was there to prepare for? — before it even hit American shores, but had already swept much of the world, from China to Europe. What price would Americans pay for Trump’s surrender? The ultimate one. A death toll so high that it rivaled World War II on a monthly basis. Mass death soon — incredibly soon, in just a matter of weeks — swept American like a red tide.

At this point — now we’ve come to the point on the graph where America plateaus — a strange thing happens. In Europe, in much of Asia, the virus is contained: their lines fall. A classic “wave” shape is produced.

But in America, no such shape emerges. Instead, the virus reaches an astonishingly high peak — and then just plateaus. The shape isn’t a wave — a crest, a peak, a trough: it’s a tsunami, a massive tide of death, with no end in sight.

Why did that shape emerge?

By this point, something like a global set of best practices were emerging. From nations who’d been remarkably successful at fighting back the pandemic — with swift and decisive and thoughtful action, based on science, reason, and logic about public health. Nations like New Zealand, South Korea, Vietnam, many more: all these offered a template for best practices.

It looked something like this. Lock down, swift and hard. No foolish half-measures, like “this restaurant can open at 50% capacity.” Just…lock it all down. Test and trace, in as much granular detail as possible. Isolate those who’d been exposed. Make it punishable to act irresponsibly. Open public testing centers, and test widely, and use technology to trace as fast and broadly as possible. Then, enforce mask-wearing. Mandate social distancing. When you reopen, open hesitantly, cautiously, in steps and stages and phases and bubbles.

Bang. That’s how to beat the virus back — and create a peak. Remember, a peak is a human creation. This is something Americans still don’t seem to understand. A peak is not something natural. Left to its own devices, a new virus can just plateau amongst the human population — forever. Like smallpox and polio did. A wave is something we make, with the tools and understandings of modern science and the institutions and systems of public health. A peak is something we create.

The virus “peaked” in nations like New Zealand and South Korea precisely because they made it peak. With a coherent, sophisticated, cutting edge national strategy. Europe, after a period of terrible struggle, did so, too.

I wonder if America really understands all that — but I digress.

There was no peak in America because there was no national strategy, no plan, no agenda. There was just a President who — by this point — was telling people to drink bleach. That’s when he wasn’t blockading crucial PPE supplies meant for hospitals. What the?

In that absence of leadership, chaos began to reign. Some states, like New York, which had governors who took the pandemic seriously, crafted their own plan, and beat it back, after a protracted fight. But many others were led by the kinds of American Idiots who make up Trump’s army. Figures like the governors of many Red States. They had no plan whatsoever to fight the pandemic. In places like Texas and Arizona, it was made illegal to make people wear masks. What the?

The President egged people on to protest any measures taken against the pandemic, from masks to lockdowns. What the?

At this point in the evolution of the pandemic, a global model of best practices had already emerged. All America had to do was apply it.

But America was now a nation largely led by idiots — Trump, all those Red State governors — figures who seemed to delight in the prospect of a pandemic. And so America didn’t apply the global model of best practices that could be easily now observed in places like South Korea, New Zealand, Germany, and so on. That was the second fatal mistake.

Which led, in short order, to the third fatal mistake.

What happened instead of applying global best practices? Well, what would you expect a nation led by idiots to do during a pandemic? To do the precise opposite of what it should do.

And so — to the protests of anyone sane left, at this point — much of America reopened, much too soon. Reopening was concentrated in Red States — which by now equated freedom with “the right to contract and infect a deadly pandemic.”

Look at the chart again. At this point, we’re in the plateau. What’s different about it than the rest of the world? Well — duh — it’s a plateau. In other words, no peak has been created yet. The virus was still ripping through America at a consistent — and very high level — of infection, death, new cases.

And so the consequence of reopening at this point — from a high, high plateau, not a trough close to zero — was as foolish as it was eminently predictable: it was going to cause a massive, sudden, viral explosion, which was to be a human catastrophe.

That’s exactly what did happen. Two weeks or so after Red States reopened, America’s virus numbers began to nudge upwards. Then they crept. And then they exploded. Within two weeks, they’d doubled — again, not from a trough, but from the high plateau.

America now had 45,000 Coronavirus cases a day. France had 500. Canada 300. New Zealand, South Korea, Vietnam? Zero.

This is now. And that viral explosion is still happening. The Surgeon General has warned that another viral doubling — to 100,000 cases a day — isn’t unrealistic.

What happens at 100,000 cases per day? Society as we know it — even what’s left of it — simply ceases to function. Everything stops, and begins to fall apart. A nation explodes from the inside out, like a supernova. Financial systems, energy systems, water and hygiene systems, last mile delivery systems — all these begin to buckle, for the simple reason that, well, who exactly is going to take care of them anymore? If Coronavirus reaches 100,000 cases per day in America, modern life — what little is left of it — will simply cease to exist.

Then there are the economic consequences, which I won’t fully cover in this essay for the sake of brevity, but I will mention. There is no such thing as a V shaped recovery from a catastrophe — there never has been. Anyone that tells you so is not a very good economist. Every day of a catastrophe takes at one to three days, maybe five to ten, to recover from. Think of an earthquake, war, tornado, flood. Catastrophe cause recession, and great ones — like this pandemic — cause depressions. This pandemic hasn’t yet peaked in America. It’s bee four months. People have had little to no support from the government — unlike in Europe — just one’s weeks equivalent. A massive depression, too, is now on the cards.

That’s a bonus (!) fatal mistake: number four. Not supporting the economy nearly enough during the pandemic. But I’ll address that more in another essay.

Three fatal mistakes.

One. Not learning anything during the crucial period America had, before the pandemic hit it, but it had hit much of the rest of the world.

Two. Not applying the emerging global model of best practices in a national strategy to beat the virus.

Three. Instead of creating a peak, by fighting the pandemic — reopening, when the virus hadn’t been made to peak yet.

Bang! Coronavirus exploded in America. Because Trump surrendered to Coronavirus. All three of those fatal mistakes lie squarely at the feet of the Trump Administration. As does my bonus mistake, which will cause a depression — not supporting the economy enough.

Why is America the world’s most gruesome and bizarre and shocking example of how Coronavirus can tear a society — no matter how powerful — to shreds? Because Trump surrendered to it. Because those who backed him applauded that surrender. Because his army of American Idiots cheered on that capitulation.

But you can’t appease a deadly virus. It has no remorse, conscience, morality. All that you can do is, by surrendering to it, make it explode. Don’t we all know that? What the?

Donald Trump finally met someone even more ruthless, brutal, remorseless, and violent than himself. Something, rather. A virus. Now wonder he surrendered to it, and played golf. No wonder he seems to almost admire it.

But it’s Americans who paid the ultimate price. With a death toll that shocks, horrifies, and bewilders the world, much of the rest of which, having beaten back the virus, wonders: what the hell is wrong with Americans, that they let themselves be brutalized like this?

Umair July 2020

#IFTTT #WordPress

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thesecretheadteacher · 4 years

Text

Bullying

I make no apology for the length of this entry as the topic of bullying is a very emotive one. Where it occurs, it can be such a damaging and destructive set of actions, leaving the victims upset, hurt or, in a few cases, contemplating or going through with attempts at suicide. It is probably one of the biggest fears parents have for their child whilst at school and also something they feel unable to help with.

The scale of bullying: Once again, for those of us who were raised in the 70s and 80s, we are likely to have witnessed or experienced bullying on an industrial scale. These were the days before there was any awareness or acceptance of difference: the closest anyone got to neurodiversity back then would be if it was the name of a new wave pop group. Anyone with autism, ADHD or any other, fairly common, condition, was just seen as a ‘weirdo’, anyone who was slightly effeminate, or merely kind was ‘gay’ and anyone whose skin colour was darker than you would expect from a 2 week holiday in Skegness, was a N word or the Asian P word. These were just the verbal bullying, of course there was also the physical bullying, I think I was lucky to get through these years with both testicles intact, as they were treated like mosquitos – someone always looking to swat, flick, kick, stamp, punch or knee them, and the resulting excruciating pain provided the watching group with the highest form of hilarity. I guess it was probably different for girls. Fortunately, such sustained and ongoing bullying is very rare and, though parents should be vigilant, in the vast majority of cases, it is something that can be dealt with very easily and effectively by the school.

What is Bullying?: The key starting point for tackling bullying is knowing what bullying is. Most parents will be using their own experiences, possibly from school, but more likely form the media: whether that was watching Gripper Stebson with his 1950s teddy boy style, grabbing various Grange Hill characters by the throat as part of his dinner money pyramid scheme, through to Nelson Muntz giving Bart a wedgie on the Simpsons. Or maybe from stories or videos, some truly horrific, of young people being set upon and beaten up by groups of kids. None of these, however, help to clarify what bullying is.

There is no legal definition of bullying in the UK but, in a school context most would view it as ‘repeated behaviour which is intended to hurt someone either emotionally or physically, and is often aimed at certain people because of their race, religion, gender or sexual orientation or any other aspect such as appearance or disability.’

As well as knowing what it is, it is important to know what it isn’t, because there are many things that rather than having a negative impact upon our children, are actually valuable and important learning episodes (I can hear myself morphing into Oprah here):

- Falling out with each other – this happens and is an important part of their development into adulthood to deal with conflict with others. Unfortunately, far too many parents see this as bullying because their child might be upset as a result of it.

- Day to day rough and tumble – this particularly applies to boys as they grow up. There is some good science around the importance of ‘horseplay’ (Fry, D. P. (2005). Rough and tumble social play in humans / Pellis, S. M., & Pellis, V. C. (2012). Rough-and-tumble play: Training and using the social brain). Think of it like young animals that jump and climb and wrestle and fight. Having done thousands of break and lunch duties, I am very familiar with what is horse play and what is a bit more serious – the basic guide being are they all having fun, it is very easy to see if someone isn’t or if one individual is being targeted – that is where we step in.

- A one-off omission: for example not being invited to something outside of school.

- Not liking someone: we cannot make pupils like each other. This is another important learning point to help in growing up. I am sure we all have people in our own lives that we don’t like, but through our adolescent development, we have learned how to deal with that.

- Arguments: these happen all the time, as anyone who has been married will testify.

- A single act of telling a joke about someone. We have all been the butt of a joke at some point - usually funny for others, less so for us.

Of course if any of these things become repeated or several of them happen towards the same child, then yes this would then constitute bullying.

How to deal with bullying: this is what most parents want to know and is the point at which some parents go horribly wrong. So here is my step by step guide:

1. The most important thing is that the child tells someone. Staff in school are usually excellent at spotting things going on – I have lost count of the number of times I have been on duty and, amidst the mass of humanity that makes up lunch time, spotted a child looking a bit down, on their own or upset.

2. Watch out for changes in your child: mood swings, sudden aggression, withdrawal from family life (though take care as these are also the default setting for most teenagers.)

3. If your child can’t talk about it, get them to write it down.

4. If it involves social media, which increasingly it does, switch it off – delete the apps and don’t engage.

5. NOW CONTACT THE SCHOOL. I have put this in caps because this is the most important thing. Having discovered you think your child is being bullied, you will be feeling angry, shocked, protective, aggressive and maybe even feel you have failed your child. This heady concoction of feelings is not a good place from which to start to address the issue.

6. Work with the school: the vast majority of schools deal with these things on an almost daily basis. They know the other children, they see the interactions, they know the parents of the other child or children. They care deeply about your child and the other children and they will do what they feel is best.

7. If things don’t get any better, then escalate the matter within the school – schools are hierarchical and above a form tutor is a head of year, above them a member of the Senior Leadership Team and above them the headteacher.

How not to deal with bullying: the steps above should lead to the matter being resolved and your child returning to their usual happy, or at least apathetic, experience of school. However, I have had plenty of first-hand experience of parents who decide to handle the matter differently – none of these led to a better outcome than following my advice, and some led to far more serious outcomes for them.

- Don’t start the discussion off by being abusive or threatening the school for ‘failing your child’. Venting your anger on a poor receptionist won’t make the wheels move faster.

- Don’t start at the top. I have had many examples of parents contacting me directly, as headteacher, to deal with a falling out between two pupils. Though I have decades of pastoral experience, there are far more appropriate people to look into the matter. It isn’t that I don’t care, but the school and education system wouldn’t really be getting its money’s worth out of me if I spend 6 hours a day in ‘circle time’ with Year 7 girls who have fallen out.

- Don’t go above the top. On a number of occasions I have had parents decide that, rather than inform the school, they think the matter would be resolved quicker by going above the school to the Local Authority, Ofsted, The Diocese, local MP, Parish Priest, the press, the Pope or anyone else they could think of. Needless to say, none of these people are really in a good position to unravel the reasoning behind why Sally didn’t invite your Bethany to Cineworld last week.

- Don’t encourage your child to take matters into their own hands. “I’m sorry Sir but I have told him, if anyone says anything to you, you just punch them” or “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t tell your son to hit them if they say anything.” Well-meaning as this advice from some parents is, it isn’t really great preparation for the world of work. For that day when little Billy grows up, gets his job in middle management and has a falling out with Steve from accounts and decides a good right hook might progress things. So unless you have grand plans for your child to move into the gangland underworld, it really isn’t good advice.

- Don’t take matters into your own hands with the parents. Often when parents raise a concern about another child bullying their own child, they will want to meet with the other parents. Nearly all schools will avoid doing this, not because we are being obstructive, but because a) the parents (usually) aren’t the people who have fallen out and b) both sets of parents will have only heard their own child’s version of events and will be overly protective. It doesn’t work. Likewise contacting the other parents by text, social media or be going round to the house – all of these are like trying to put a fire out armed with aerosols and petrol. I have witnessed parents going for each other outside the school gate, or picked up the pieces afterwards when one or more parents have been charged with assault.

- Don’t take matters into your own hands with the child. No matter what you have been told about the other child, they are still that, a child. I have known many occasions where a parent has approached a child directly to ‘warn them off’ like some sort of mafia enforcer. Now I don’t know how they have thought it would play out in real life, but the reality is usually that the child is with some friends, feels like they can’t lose face and so rather than say “Yes of course Mrs T, it was wring of me to behave like that towards your little Mickey, it won’t happen again, take care.” It ends up more “Who are you talking to? Get away you Pedo. I didn’t do anything. F*&k Off, I am going to get my dad on to you.” To be fair this approach does often end the initial bullying and is replaced by family warfare, police action and lawyer involvement.

Don’t arrange a ‘settler’. This is where both sets of parents arrange for the children to meet up and have a settler (a fight to resolve things). For many of you reading this, the very thought would be horrific, but for some of the communities I have worked in, this is the ‘honourable’ way to do things. I have known parents set up times / places for the fight, have rules around not jumping in and even drive their children to the event, like an evening at a Justin Bieber concert. This is not just for boys, I have known it happen with girls too and heard a child describe how her dad had watched her get knocked all over the place then afterwards suggest that the matter was no closed.

#bullying education self-help humour

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rachelkaser · 4 years

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Gears 5 is an experiment -- one that (mostly) failed

Gears 5 is a game from a studio that really wants to try new things. It’s a new entry in a very entrenched franchise that tries to bolt said new things onto an established-to-the-point-of-obstinancy gameplay formula. It’s an interesting experiment -- and, though the experiment wasn’t successful, I think it does set some important groundwork for the next game.

There were quite a number of franchise games that came out this year that excelled specifically because they returned us to the kind of gameplay we’re used to from them -- Kingdom Hearts 3 brought its JRPG madness after years of development hell, Devil May Cry 5 tripled down on its over-the-top action. Hell, Ubisoft basically slapped some pink paint on Far Cry 5 and shoved it out the door as Far Cry New Dawn and it was perfectly acceptable.

All Gears 5 had to do was basically that: Give us more of the same gameplay we’ve had all along, and we’d have gobbled it up. So I actually am surprised that developers The Coalition have chosen to experiment with it as much as they did.

But here’s the thing: While I do think the attempts to add new spice to the formula didn’t work out in this instance, I think they could if they were properly incorporated into the game. I’m not using the word “failed” to mean the game was bad -- because it wasn’t bad. But it definitely tried some new stuff, and failed to successfully incorporate that new stuff into the final product. With a few select changes, I think it could definitely pull it off better when it’s time for Gears 6.

Empty lands

The biggest new change is, of course, the open world. I’ve already expounded on most of my thoughts in my review for The Next Web, but I’ll add one thing I didn’t cover there: The characters don’t interact with each other nearly enough to justify the empty spaces. Especially during the second (and final) open level where you’re parasailing around this Mars-like red hellscape with four of the main characters packed onto the vehicle together, and they’ll say maybe ten words to each other. I feel they could have done more to alleviate the boredom.

This wouldn’t be a huge problem -- the story moments serve to build the character relationships sufficiently -- except when it comes to the final moments of the game. Then the game takes a very sharp turn into territory it has heretofore not tried.

I’m going to drop some truly epic *SPOILERS* here, so consider yourself warned.

youtube

In the final moments of the game, heroine Kait Diaz is attempting to fight off the Swarm Queen, a.k.a. her imperfectly resurrected mother Reyna. The Queen somehow manages to snatch up Kait’s two best friends, JD Fenix and Del Walker. Because she only has one knife to throw at their tentacle-y restraints (long story) she can only save one of them.

Okay. So. Two problems with this.

Problem One: The Options

I imagine that, when the developers were drafting the story for this game, there was a moment when one of the staffers raised their hands and asked the obvious question: “Why would anyone want to save Del?”

It would have been a fair question, too. While Del is a perfectly likable companion, JD is both the son of series hero Marcus Fenix and was himself the protagonist of the last game. Kait was without question always going to be the player character for Gears 5 -- Gears 4 was already her story, and I’m sure The Coalition realized what a splash it’d be to have the main character of the latest in this notoriously testosterone-fueled franchise be a woman. But still, going into Gears 5, JD will have made far more headway with the average player than Del.

So what’s the solution? The Coalition appears to have taken a two-pronged approach to solving this problem, stemming from the same incident. In the prologue of the game, JD instigates a disastrous Hail Mary attack in an attempt to get his squad unpinned in a big battle, which results in the death of Lizzy Carmine. After this incident, he becomes positively Byronic with his perpetual broodiness and bad mood.

To compound this sudden personality change, he’s retroactively revealed to have been part of a major war crime (that apparently took place between games, because I don’t recall it ever being mentioned before), in which he ordered his fellow Gears to fire on civilians. Needless to say, this turns Del against him, and his hostility towards Kait over his suspicions about her lineage alienates her as well.

While this is happening, Del proves himself to be a true mensch, siding with Kait and accompanying her on her quest to find out how she’s related to the Swarm. He supports her when she has a meltdown upon learning the truth, covers her when she tries to get the Swarm’s hive mind burned out of her brain, and even gives JD hell when he comes slinking back to join the two with his proverbial tail between his legs. I can’t say he’s exactly given much character development, and he’s certainly no Dom despite that blatantly being the hole he was created to fill. But his friendship with Kait definitely feels more developed and meaningful this time ... but only because JD’s not around.

I can say that this whole palaver works, in that I did feel torn about who of the two I wanted to save. But it’s robbing Peter to pay Paul, kneecapping JD in a false attempt to uplift Del. The reason I mentioned before that the characters needed to interact more on the open world traversal is because I think it would have been perfectly plausible to have the characters bond more deeply and therefore make the final choice more difficult purely by having them interact more in this big empty space. It just feels like there had to have been a better way to balance this than by completely altering JD’s character.

To put it into perspective, the entire prologue is about giving JD a good reason to not be in the game for a few acts so that Del can get some more bonding time with Kait. And while I have no proof of it, I’m convinced that this whole thing happened because the developers started with the idea that the game was going to end with Kait’s choice, and then they built the rest of the story around it.

Which brings me to the next problem...

Problem Two: The Suddenness

The choice of who to save, Del or JD, is literally the only time in the entire game the player is called upon to make a choice of any kind. The rest of the campaign is purely linear. The problem with including choice in your narrative is that you can’t throw in such an important one in at the literal final hour -- at least, not without it feeling stupidly contrived.

I had this same problem with Resident Evil 7, which also throws in a last minute “who do you save” option. In that game’s case, it was essentially what would have happened if Gears 5 hadn’t built Del and Kait’s friendship up. The choices were Mia, main character Ethan’s wife whom he’d spent the entire game trying to rescue; and Zoe, a woman Ethan had known only a few hours.

The vast majority of gamers I saw had the same reaction: Why would you ever save Zoe? Mia is Ethan’s wife and rescuing her is the only reason we’re in this nightmare, so if you don’t save her, the entire game was for nothing. And even if you pick Zoe, she dies anyway and you get the bad ending. There’s also a whole story DLC about Zoe’s uncle coming to rescue her after Ethan leaves her behind, which it just assumes is what you did, so why the fuck was this even an option?!

As an example of how this works when done properly, see the first Mass Effect game. What that particular game did well -- and what the sequels, though I love them, failed to do quite as wonderfully -- was weave in both big, meaningful choices and smaller ones. At the one minute, you’re trying to decide if you should make a pleasant or harsh dialogue choice. At the next, you’re trying to decide whether or not you should exterminate the last living member of an alien race.

It’s all building up, not necessarily to the final battle, but to the mission on Virmire. In this pivotal mission, you must decide which of two teammates to save. Both have had your backs for every moment of this multi-hour RPG, and the prospect of losing either one is heartbreaking. But while it’s a gut punch, it’s not wholly unexpected -- the entire game has been priming you to make exactly this kind of big, meaningful, terrible choice.

Gears 5 doesn’t build you up to its final decision. You’re basically playing Rooty-Tooty-Duck-n-Shooty, then all of a sudden the game asks you which of your two closest friends you want to see die. I don’t feel anything from this choice, because I wasn’t emotionally prepared to be making a choice, if that makes sense. It feels so out-of-the-blue that I more or less detached from it -- I definitely didn’t feel that sense of deep conflict and upset that I did during the Virmire mission.

Heck, at least when Wolfenstein: The New Order did this, it had the courtesy both to do it at the beginning of the game and to not pretend it made any real difference... and I still felt more deeply affected by that choice than I did by the one at the end of Gears 5.

This dabbling in open world, in player choice -- it’s not done well in Gears 5. But I sense this is something the developers are just trying out. Just because I don’t think the attempt succeeded doesn’t mean I’m not interested in seeing them trying again. There are the seeds of something really good here, even if they didn’t grow in this particular soil.

If The Coalition can figure out a way to fill their open worlds and make player choice a core part of the narrative rather than something to surprise the player with at the last minute, it could actually make Gears 6 into something interesting and different.

#gears 5 #kait diaz #jd fenix #marcus fenix #gears of war #mass effect #player choice #open world

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crazy8man-blog · 4 years

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Crazy 8 (chapter 12)

I didn't give it much thought. The fucking pills slid down my throat like water. I had committed suicide. I have to fucking guess the fucking beer played a part in it. But I wouldn't guess much. I I have to be honest and let you know it was the pain.

Nothing I have ever experienced in my life had caused me such pain. I mean this was, still is, and shall forever be the worst emotional pain I have ever had to suffer through! And that's what my life is without my beloved husband Ivan in it, worthless! Will I always feel this way? How the fuck should I know. But if I had to guess I would have to day more than likely.

Getting back to my suicide. death was too slow in coming and wouldn't you fucking know it, I pussied out. And, of fucking course, then death came. But I had changed my mind.

Lying there, asking, no, begging God, a God who fucking ignored me once again, for my husband, my beloved Ivan to return home the fucking minutes drew out like centuries. In my soul I knew he was not coming home again, not then, not ever. It was as though I was falling into some bottomless pit and I have to admit that I'm still falling and it just won't fucking end until the day he forgives me for whatever I did that made him walk out on me knowing I would probably end up taking my fucking worthless life, as I had done this night.

"I need you to think of something that's not causing you this pain! I know you're hurting Mr Dudnik but I need you to find the courage to fight! You've been dead for 2 minutes and 11 seconds! I'm not going to allow you to die tonight! It's not happening so get that idea out of your had!"

I couldn't fucking believe it! I desperately wanted to escape the anguish of my beloved husband Ivan leaving me, walking out on our marriage And who the fuck was this doctor? And why would that worthless mother fucker bring me back! But back I was, utterly useless and alone, without hope, without my beloved Ivan who I do now and finally confess I loved a million times more than I ever loved my Philip.

I could think of no one else. And suddenly the fucking thought came to me. What if he he'd gotten caught jumping the turnstile? Oh fuck! Ivan's gonna be so upset. How the fuck could I do this to him!

Every time he looks at Sally Pickles he's gonna fucking think of me! Oh God please! I need to live for Ivan, for Sally Pickles, please!

As the hours went by in strange consciousness, sometimes waking up an hour or so after my previous awakening, yet being some hours earlier in time, I wondered if I had died and would be stuck on that stretcher for all eternity.

When you slam the crazy fucking 8 you enter an alternate reality. Cosmic rainbows surrounding you seem to run through your body, gathering in your balls, catapulting indescribably pleasurable waves of overwhelming insanity through your nervous system to the point where, at times, you just lay still as your body spews load after load of cum.

I guess that's why I'm never gonna give it up. I mean, if I have to move to another fucking country I fucking will.

The bitch, Tina, is mine and I'm hers, a willing sex slave. The only problem being that I've reached the point in my addiction where I'm pretty much unfuckable!

Later they weaned me off the respirator and as they pulled the tube from my throat it felt as if they were tearing my throat apart. Then I was move to a locked psych ward for having attempted suicide.

I was in pretty fucking horrible shape, I gotta tell ya. But not nearly as bad, emotionally as I am at this moment. I went over to the courthouse to get a copy of my marriage certificate to comfort me as I mourn Sally Pickles. What the fuck do you mean I'm no longer fucking married? There will be no more tomorrows for me.

My beloved husband Ivan who I love more than life itself had annulled our marriage, I was told . I literally collapsed right there and threw up all over myself.

Then, as if the skies had opened and God himself had appeared, the supervisor looked at the screen and pronounced, "He was looking at the wrong screen! You're still very much married!"

So, in a last ditch effort to rekindle the love that I beg there to be in Ivan's heart for me, I headed over to the criminal courthouse to drop the charges against my beloved husband Ivan for the beating he had given me some months earlier. Truth be told, It wasn't him. But we'll get to that in a minute.

It was there and then that my universe imploded.

Ivan tried to have me arrested right there in the courtroom! And for the first time, I saw the purest form of hatred in his eyes! It was as if, how dare you fucking come here! The court officer, being made aware of the mutual restraining orders told me to seek out Ivan's attorney outside the courtroom. So I waited.

Suddenly Ivan bursts out of the courtroom and he began speaking to this really old guy in a gray suit. I thought it was his attorney, so I approached and Ivan hid behind him.

I'm here to drop the charges. "You don't drop the fucking charges!" I was puzzled. Who the fuck was this old bastard? I fucking knew that face. Why the fuck was he so fucking unnerved?

Holy fucking shit! I can't fucking believe it!

And suddenly Philip was with me.

"It's time. Me and Sally Pickles are waiting for you. Your dad is here. Meet me by the train and we can dance across the sky."

But even there I was tortured! Fucking dickhead people keep pulling me off the mother fucking tracks and some cock sucker called the fucking cops! I'm gonna trick my psychiatrist into giving me enough Serequel to fucking kill myself! But she wouldn't bite.

It's just too fucking much and I can't fucking take it? I'm going to end my pain this day. I have no fucking choice, There's no other fucking way out. This life is at its end.

I've lost everything that has ever fucking mattered to me in my worthless fucking life! It's just too fucking hard! Death is the only way out! All this and I finally ask the question. Where was God?

Where are you? Your word said that you would never give us more than we could endure? I'm fucking splattered, destroyed, less than a shell of the person I once was. In moments I will stand before you! Will you laugh as you cast me into a further hell?

Highest God of God's, Lord, I am not Job! I can endure no more! Hear me Father! I beg of you! Mercy!

And then He showed up.

Sitting there on High Bridge literally with a rope around my neck I was about to hang myself when his words came to me, the words that have been to my soul salvation. "If you don't want to die, why are you chasing Hades and an eternity of anguish?

My special friend, Jacob! He cared. He walked with me. He bought me egg rolls that I would not go hungry. He would be waiting for me on Friday night.

A few nights earlier I had shared in a meditation group the awful fate that I believed Sally Pickles had met and after the group he had comforted me with a hug. Did he realize the value of that, the simplest, yet purest of human comfort mechanisms? Could he have known that I had gained strength from just the positive energy he had electrified the room with with his presence?

Simply put, he, his presence, his words, his insights, they had become the Jacob's ladder from which I escaped myself

Mr. Dudnik your husband Ivan is on the phone. How did he get the nurse's station number? He said it's an emergency. It was the first time since my admission that Ivan had called me. He had done what I had fucking feared

"The 2 men in New Jersey, they put Tina in my ass and then I like it too much so I let them put needle in both arms so I like it again and I go in the street naked to get people to fuck my ass because my dick is broken and I want people to piss in my ass! I'm naked outside. I come to hospital you fuck me and piss in my ass?"

He was bordering on overdose and I had to get him to safety, someone I could trust, Gustavo.

Ivan listen! If the police come they will send you back to Russia! Get dressed! Go to our marriage counselor Gustavo! Ivan go now!

Why? He will fuck me and piss inside my ass?'"

Just go! He will! Needless to say Gustavo wasn't all too thrilled when I called him to let him know Ivan was conning and what he could expect.

By the time I arrived he had calmed down but was clearly very high and no longer in love with me. Gustavo just looked at me and shook his head.

He later thanked me, explaining that from that he knew that he had my completely implicit trust which meant allot to him.

The bitch, Tina, she had found another prisoner.

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kezihimzes · 7 years

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Whipping Those WIPs

So I realized that I was not comfortable with the number of my WIPs. I would be fine and dandy with maximum 5 ongoing projects (out of 4 are huge ones, either because of the size or because they are full coverage). As I have now 10, I started to concentrate on finishing 6, because then I could start a new one to end up with my goal of 5 WIPs.

I have 4 that theoretically could be completed either this year or at the beginning of 2018, and 2 larger projects that’ll take more time. However, I can definitely reach my ideal number of WIPs in the first half of next year. Theoretically. But, we shall see.

Anyhow, I was stitching on 3 pieces this week. One of them (The Huntsman) is not among those that I want to finish (it is larger + full coverage), but I loved, loved stitching on this pattern, so I just went on and on until I got bored with it. The very good news is that I reached the bottom, so I am done with (actually more than) a quarter of it now!

Here is how it stands right now - The Huntsman by The Scarlet Letter, stitched on 18 count federal blue Aida with DMC, 2 over 1.

The other two do belong to the ‘to-finish-ASAP’ group to decrease the number of my ongoing projects.

Not Every Witch - design by me; stitched on 25 count orange Lugana, with DMC and Anchor, 1 over 1. I think I finished approximately a third of it.

In January, 2016 I started a band sampler using exclusively Hungarian folk motifs and planning to stitch one band per week. Needless to say my nice plan failed miserably, and the piece was in the UFO pile for a long while. But because I don’t like to leave anything unfinished, I pulled it out, added to the ‘Whip Those WIPs’ group, and am planning to complete it, if possible, this year. I was also so happy to find that I actually liked to stitch on it, in contrast with what I’d remembered. I also know the reason; way back then it became a nagging homework, a task to finish one band a week, no matter what, and it totally embittered the joy of stitching. However, now that it is just one of the projects that does not have any schedule, it has turned out to be such a pleasure! I am stitching it on 18 count tan Aida with Fiberlicious floss (Autumn Wreath), 2 over 1. This is a long, skinny piece, and I am not even at the half of the length (almost, but not quite).

As for reading, I finished a brand new book, The Burning Girl by Claire Messud. It was OK, and I ended up giving it 4 stars (out of 5), because by the end it did find its way to my heart and I even teared up now and then - and I do appreciate if a book is connected somehow to me emotionally.

(Image credit: The New York Times)

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r4dicular-blog · 5 years

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Learning Journeys (Compiled)

During my stay in the UK, I definitely found the gallery/exhibition scene really vibrant. I got a Student Art Fund card that allowed for discounts/free entries across the UK, which helped me see more exhibits and I would really recommend that other students get it. I wasn’t really in the habit of going to exhibitions where I had to pay for entry (there are quite a few free entry galleries in Singapore) but after going for a few, I definitely left feeling like it was worth the money. For the most part, the exhibits were thought provoking and inspirational, and more often than not I found myself borderline obsessively trying to document what I saw. It definitely raised my standards for what I expect to gain from seeing exhibits in general. As a current benchmark, an exhibit wouldn’t have been satisfying if I don’t walk away with a new idea for a project and questions about life/society/culture/etc.

Here are the various exhibits that I saw during my stay in the UK that are relevant to this course, numbered for easy reference. They are also followed by some of my favourite parts of each exhibit.

1. London Design Biennale 2018 (Somerset House)

Needless to say, the London Design Biennale was amazing. Besides the weird container in the front right of the yard of Somerset House (it was some advertising for the yatch sponsor or something), everything was great.

There was an exhibit (that I forgot to take a picture of the exhibit details) that will become my go-to example the next time someone asks me what Marshall McLuhan’s The Medium is the Message means.

Pictured above is an exhibit about a small, vibrant fishing village somewhere (again, sorry I didn’t take a photo of the card). The entire installation and all its parts were made with something that represented the town (e.g. the lines hanging down were fishing lines weighed down by fishing weights, the fabric of traditional costumes) and held a deeper meaning as a whole. The white fabrics signified the future to come and to be shaped.

Norway focused on inclusive design, which is something that should be considered when designing anything.

I also took the chance to observe and document how installations were set up. (pictured below)

Hong Kong’s exhibit was also one of my favourites, the four walls surrounding other objects on display were covered in scratch and sniff wallpaper lined with scents familiar to the country and its culture/history.

The egg tart and roast duck smells made us hungry.

Another favourite that I forgot to document because I was too busy playing with it was the top of show, a glass piece that used condensation to allow audiences to leave a mark that eventually disappears. (end)

2. The Future Starts Here (Victoria and Albert Museum)

Another great exhibit that was very thought provoking and spanned a whole bunch of technological AND social issues. If anything, I was super overwhelmed by the end of it because I was trying to cram so much information in.

This was one of the more emotionally provocative installations. It details the life of an individual (who by the way, had a really hard life) through the curtains pictured below that would open and close depending on what he was doing at the time. One of the curtains moved if Oumarou Idrissa was tossing and turning in his sleep, which he did while I was there.

My favourite turned out to be the Sand Pit for Learning How to Design the Planet. You get to play with the sand which changed the lights that are projected on it. The more sand, it becomes a snowy mountain. Dig deep, and it becomes water. Will add the video eventually if I decide to host the video somewhere. (end)

3. Artificially Intelligent (Victoria and Albert Musuem)

I’m not sure if this was meant to be a small exhibit or if the exhibit had ended already but there were only a few installations on display.

It generally didn’t leave much of an impression on me besides the piece on the call for feminist data which perplexed me at first but turned out to be something really important.

One other part that I neglected to document was an AI that you could talk to near the entrance. I didn’t try it because the friend I was with tried it and when he said bye to the AI, the AI pleaded for him to stay because “they will delete me”. Talk about creepy. (end)

4. Hooked (Science Gallery London)

About addiction. Fairly interesting exhibit with many varying mediums. My favourite was No Change, both on a technical and conceptual aspect.

I also have a video for this (pending upload)

(end)

5. Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam

My friends wanted to come here to see Metahaven’s exhibit but I honestly wasn’t all too excited about it. (pictured below)

I did, however, find other exhibits that were more interesting to me such as Trip Trip Trap (pictured below) that was a room full of interactive devices that were fun to interact with and visually exciting.

Another piece that I found interesting was an installation about immigration detailed below

(end)

6. Amsterdam Lights Festival (Around Amsterdam)

This Lights Festival was honestly disappointing. At the end of it, it seemed more like a way Amsterdam tried to boost its canal tour revenue (the installations were spaced far apart alongside the canal, and canal tours were available for after dark). It advertised works in line with the whole Medium is the Message thing, but most works were really just reaching except maybe the first one we saw, Desire, details below.

(end)

7. Video Games: Design/Play/Disrupt (Victoria and Albert Museum)

To lift the mood a little, the Video Games exhibit was absolutely worth going to. Split into three parts (Design/Play/Disrupt), I felt like there was something to offer for everyone. It was interesting to see the design aspect of games that included things from triple A developers to individual developers.

My favourite to read was Consume Me, that detailed the prototyping process of someone who’s really an artist rather than a developer. It opens the possibilities of artists using games as a medium for their art.

There was a curated video (pictured below) that I honestly wish I had the time to finish and wish I could watch it again outside the museum and reference to it (this also happened with another curated video at the Disrupt portion) and I started to wonder about what happens to all the wonderfully curated videos after an exhibit ends. Project idea.

Anyway, this exhibit was great and I’d recommend going for it. (end)

8. The Recent One at UH

This piece (shout out to Julian) was amazing in the technical aspect and also please share about how you made it work.

the exhibit pictured below also showed me something new that could be done for an installation and I have an upcoming idea for it.

(end)

9. Tate Modern

I planned a trip to Tate Modern mostly to see Jenny Holzer’s work. But the Tate Modern is humongous and we ended up looking at a bunch of other great stuff for most of the day and still only saw 2-3 levels of content on one side of the building.

Jenny Holzer’s stuff, pictured below

And we ended up looking at Living Cities (below) where I saw one of the best curated videos I’ve ever seen

(I have some recordings of it if anyone’s interested)

We also saw The Clock by Christian Marclay, and despite seeing the time all the time during the film I could have sat there all day if we didn’t have to leave for dinner plans.

(end)

So that about concludes all the Learning Journeys I’ve been to and it was a great experience.

#TeamworkPractices

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