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thelittlestcheshire · 3 years

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Is that HAILEY CHESHIRE “CHES” ELSWOOD? Wow, they do look a lot like KATHERINE MCNAMARA. I hear SHE is an EIGHTEEN year old FRESHMEN who is studying ENGLISH at Luxor University. Word is they are an ARISTOCRAT student. You should watch out because they can be IMPULSIVE and STUBBORN, but on the bright side they can also be ENERGETIC and LOYAL. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself.

the basics //

Full Name: Hailey Cheshire “Ches” Elswood

Preferred Name: Ches Elswood

Age: 18

Birthday: July 19th

Zodiac: Cancer

Gender & Pronouns: Woman (She/Hers)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Youtuber (two channels, a theme park history channel that uploads once a month (documentary style) and a DIY channel she shares with a friend she posts on the 2nd and 4th Mondays of each month)

Relationship Status: In a Relationship with Elliot Mills

Place of Birth: Paris, France

Hometown: Manhattan, New York, New York

Country of Citizenship: United States and France [dual citizenship]

Languages Spoken: French (first), English, Latin, Portuguese, and she’s learning Norwegian (she doesn’t think it’s enough to count yet) and she just started Russian

deeper dive //

Hobbies and Talents:

♡ Piano

♡ Archery

♡ Acting

♡ Singing (Voice Claim: Katherine McNamara (updated - spring 2021))

♡ Reading

♡ Forgeries

♡ Lockpicking

♡ DIYS (especially involving resin)

♡ Writing (not creatively though, essays, Defunctworld scripts)

♡ Video Creation

Favorites:

♡ Color: Pink (the watermelon paint color)

♡ Food: Cheap Chinese Food

♡ Animal: Tigers

♡ Drink: Cherry Cola

♡ Flower: Lilies

♡ Book: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

♡ Holiday: Halloween (costumes) or Christmas (gift giving)

♡ Movie: The Shining

♡ Scent: Vanilla Bean

♡ Place: Her family's flat in Paris

♡ Quote:

“and though she be but little, she is fierce” - William Shakespeare

Bêtes Noires:

♡ Color: Dijon

♡ Food: Sushi (a lot of it has to do with that tuna allergy though)

♡ Animal: Domestic Cats, she can tolerate them but they’re one of the few animals she wouldn’t seek out.

♡ Drink: Coffee (it’s a key reason why she drinks it when she’s panicking, because who has time to panic when you’re too busy being offended by what you’re drinking? Not Ches.)

♡ Flower: Roses (she loathes them, dislike is an understatement)

♡ Book: The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Victor Hugo

♡ Holiday: Her birthday

♡ Movie: The Notebook

♡ Scent: Roses

♡ Place: Touristy Locations, she hates being around tourists ok

health //

Conditions:

♡ Borderline Personality Disorder

♡ PTSD

Allergies: Severe Allergy to the Perciformes family of fish (tuna, mackrel, perch , and bass). Shellfish and salmoniformes (Salmon and Trout) are fine, but she won’t try any other kinds of fish just in case.

Sleeping Habits: Ches doesn’t sleep well at all, she has nightmares more often than not, and it’s rare for her to get more than a couple of hours of sleep.

Exercise Habits: While she occasionally skips leg day, Ches exercises daily because she needs to be in good shape for archery. Usually, she goes for boxing (with a dummy, not other people) but she likes hiking a lot as well.

Addictions: Alcohol, although Ches is currently in recovery

Drug Use: Occasional weed (edibles), but for the most part she avoids drugs

Alcohol Use: Ches used to drink multiple times of day daily, but now she doesn’t drink at all because she’s in recovery (attending NA and therapy) and has quit.

personality //

MBTI: ENFP

Enneagram: 7w8 (The Enthusiast with The Challenger wing)

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral, occasionally bordering on Chaotic Good

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Percy Jackson Parent: Aphrodite

Pokémon Type: Ghost

Pokémon Subtype: Electric

Winx: Light

appearance //

Height: 5′3 ½” (not at fc height)

Tattoos: One, Two, Three

Scars: None

Piercings: None

Hair: Red (naturally). Ches dyes her hair from time to time so she has a current hair color thing in her sidebar (you may have to scroll).

Eyes: Green

Fashion:

♡ link to ches’s closet

♡ link to ches’s shoes

life at luxor //

Major:

♡ English

Clubs and Activities:

♡ Archery Club

♡ Theater (Actress)

♡ Concert Band (Piano)

♡ National Honor Society

fun facts //

♡ Ches is a former Carnifex student who came over to Luxor during the merge. You can see everything that she’s been up to during her time in the rp on her timeline page.

♡ Ches has a twin brother named Jonah who isn’t at Luxor.

♡ The Elswoods are rich. Top 25 Forbes list, 50+ Billion Networth levels of rich. In turn Ches really doesn’t think that much about money, and how much it actually means to other people.

♡ Valedictorian of Luxor Academy’s 2020 Class, she turned down Columbia’s English program to attend Luxor University.

♡ She doesn’t use her first name, ever. She doesn’t like it, and there’s a fairly high chance of her just not acknowledging you if you call her Hailey.

♡ She’s a bit of a closet nerd - if you look under her bed she has a chest of comic books, although she has NO idea how they got there if you ask her. Do not question the R2-D2 shaped thing covered by a tarp in her closet. She also doesn’t know where that came from.

♡ Extremely restless, if you want her to sit still during a movie you better give her something to do simultaneously.

♡ Her purse is kinda like Mary Poppins bag, odds are she has what you’re looking for in it. She almost always has her multi-tool on her. She also tends to carry around a single shot nerf gun, don’t ask.

♡ She got her first tattoo while she was away from school, using a forged note of parental consent in New Jersey. (The not fragile one, the arrow was added later).

♡ She has way too many siblings, you can learn about them on her family page. (She has one more not listed, a still born half brother named Julien she learned about via her mother’s diaries. The rest of the children (excluding Emmett) are unaware.)

♡ Loves animals, a lot, sometimes to a reckless extent. She would try to feed piranhas, she does try to climb into enclosures with venomous snakes. She would steal a dog (as would her twin brother, so apparently they have more in common than they realize).

♡ If Ches makes a threat, take it with a grain of salt. Yes, she owns a blowtorch, no she won’t set you on fire even if she lights it in your direction. Your muse might not always know that - depending on how much time they’ve spent with her, but ooc just remember her bark is way worse than her bite.

♡ Ches has a Porsche that she got from her father for graduating at the top of her class. Although it’s currently not travelling with her because the cost of shipping a car is insane. Anytime she’s in Lake George though, this is her baby. (She also owns a Mercedes, which was her first car).

♡ I’m always willing to discuss my muses, so feel free to hit me up if you have any questions at any point.

a tl;dr history //

♡ Ches’s mother was murdered on her 8th birthday in front of her

♡ She was raised by her oldest brother, Logan, and is NOT close to her father really. She also helped raise her younger sisters and is very protective of them.

♡ The Elswood she is closest to is Emmett. He’s a big part of why she’s even here, as she’d followed him to Carnifex.

♡ Her first real love was James (an npc). They dated Freshman-Sophomore years. It wasn’t a healthy relationship, and it started Ches’s messy af relationship and fwbs pattern as she didn’t want to go through that again.

♡ Ches left Luxor in October of 2019 because her oldest brother (Logan), overdosed. He’s alive and doing well now, but she stayed in NYC until March 2020 in order to take care of things here.

♡ I strongly recommend skimming Ches’s timeline page before interacting with her. These are just the bare minimum basics, and there’s more things your muse may know on there.

wanted connections //

♡ Exes (when Ches dates it’s not for long, but she’s definitely the type to be like “I’ll go out with you” if asked and then... dump you if she thinks she’s getting too attached. So her exes are either on good terms, neutral terms, or they probably dislike her a lot)

♡ Former friends with benefits (while Ches is no longer taking on new ones because of Elliot, I’m always willing to headcanon past things!)

♡ Friends (I am weak af for a good friendship plot, never be afraid to be like “hey can our muses be friends” the answer is legit always yes)

♡ Enemies (Ches can... be a lot so it’s not unlikely she’s pissed people off ok)

♡ NA Sponsor (I think it'd be beneficial for Ches to have a sponsor, someone she respects and trusts but not someone with a close emotional attachment. I'd prefer if the muse has been sober for two+ years, but we can probably find a middle ground.)

♡ Ex Friends (People used to be friends with but no longer is on good terms with, either as an aftermath of her addiction, the aftermath of her recovery when that starts, them just growing apart, etc etc)

#luxorintro #finally redid the intros #alcohol tw #alcoholism tw #drugs tw #overdose tw #abuse tw

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asterlizard · 5 years

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UK trip summer 2019

(Argh! I’m sorry for the delay! I meant to finish this back in June, but I haven’t had much time to finally get around to it)

I haven’t been to the UK in 3 years, and while the feelings were admittedly mixed, because it involved a lot of cleaning up and donations of my grandparents’ items, I did get to have a bit of fun and do some new things on this trip.

Our flight would leave in the middle of the day, but we still had to wake up early so that we could arrive at the airport, do airport security, and get to our boarding gate in plenty of time.

This started off by waking up at around 7:00 in order to meet a Lyft driver (for a first time rideshare, Uber failed to find someone for us) who would take us to a bus stop, which would take us directly to the airport.

As we were arriving at SFO, I could have sworn I saw some beehives in a patch of grass between the weaving roads. However, researching it doesn’t seem to bring up anything. Hmm...

I was looking forward to eating pizza at the selection of restaurants before the security checkout, but unfortunately it was closed, and all of the other restaurants seemed to have been replaced. So the only thing that appealed to me then was Chinese food. It was pretty tasty though.

The entertainment on the flight was a little different than what I’m used to (then again I haven’t flown in a few years). They had more limited music options, and the only decade available was the 80s. I could also zoom in anywhere on the map, which is a horrible distraction for someone like me :P Also, the food was pretty tasty, especially the mango sorbet, which was the definite winner for me :P

Cool view of Alcatraz just before we flew past it

I witnessed an airplane halo, also known as a ‘glory’!

Since we travelled light, we didn’t have to wait to collect our luggage afterwards. We also breezed through the passport check, since we’re British citizens.

I like this mirror effect, but the distortion made it extra cool

At this point, it was 7 in the morning, and we had to meet up with a family friend who lives in London, where we would stay at overnight before progressing to our destination. Along the way I saw some students using the Tube to get to school (it was a school day after all). This was kinda interesting as someone who grew up in America and never had to wear a school uniform.

We actually had to meet our friend by walking from the nearest Tube station to her house (which is fine, I don’t mind walking! Especially after a 9 hour flight). Not long after we met up, she showed me this little fox sleeping outside her window (I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person before!) It likes to do this when the sun is out. Unfortunately for it, it was sleeping next to a couple of squawking magpies.

We then went on a short walk along the canal. There we saw a swan family and a coot family (and babies!!)

We would then head over to the British Museum. Our friend told us in advance that it would be hosting a manga exhibit, and we arrived the day after it debuted. Just before heading over, she brings up that the Rosetta Stone was also there. I didn’t anticipate this, because I thought it was held in a different museum. So I was getting more excited to see the Rosetta Stone over seeing the manga exhibit xD (I joked that I was about to meet my ‘rock star’)

It was about ￡20 to enter the exhibit, so only I went, while our friend and mum explored the rest of the museum. The exhibit started off with a ‘trip down the rabbit hole’, in reference to perhaps the most influential British work in Japanese media, Alice in Wonderland, and its appearances in manga over the years.

Then it showed the history of manga, manga influences, a brief manga how-to, and genres of manga. I saw some familiar works, like Astro Boy, DragonBall, Sailor Moon, a work from the creator of Akira, One Piece, Golden Kamui, Saint Young Men, etc. I also saw some works that I've never encountered that I'm interested in (a rugby manga, a wheelchair rugby manga coming soon, a murder mystery manga at the British museum, a manga about a saxophonist)

There were also some video exhibits, whether it's clips from anime next to their respective manga, creators/staff talking about their creative process, artists drawing their manga, or a series of clips from Ghibli films, but you weren't allowed to take pics of these.

At one point, I even saw an Attack on Titan cosplayer! (ready to take down the giant inflatable titan head I presume)

It’s difficult to read, but this is Morohoshi Daijiro, and it says that Hayao Miyazaki was strongly influenced by him. I’ll have to look at his stuff sometime.

I probably spent about two hours in there, longer than I expected. Admittedly I was tired, and my legs were getting sore, and a little over half an hour before I was done I needed a loo. I was feeling all sorts of physically gross at this point, and I had no idea how much of the exhibit I was actually absorbing even though I tried.

Before the end of the exhibit, I waited in line to get a photo taken, so the machine would add a comic-like gradient to it and insert it into a comic panel. Once I was done, I made a beeline to the nearest loo (for a split moment I panicked that they would be the ‘pay-to-use’ loos, and I didn’t have any money on me, as all of my stuff was with mum, thankfully it wasn’t).

After meeting back with mum and our friend, we headed back to our friend’s home, as I was feeling too exhausted to do anything else.

By the way, I did get to see the Rosetta Stone, but I would need to see it again when I’m not jet-lagged and there’s less people. By the way, I also learned that the figures on the pediment over the British Museum were created by my ancestor, so... y’know, there’s another reason to revisit the place.

I finally went to bed after some dinner, dessert, and a refreshing shower. I had been awake for about 32 hours!

The next day, mum and I stocked up on food (most of which I missed after a long time of not eating them. I still wish I could eat them more often!) and travelled by train to our destination.

The train also was different than what I’m used to. The livery is different, and instead of there being a ticket(?) on the top of an occupied seat, there was a red/green light above the window that indicated whether the seat was occupied or not.

At some point our passenger neighbours were cracking up and couldn’t stop laughing, which was contagious enough for me and a few other strangers to laugh. It was a great moment. When we arrived, we met up with my aunt, uncle, and cousin, and we had fish and chips and a good chat.

The day after we arrived, we already got started with clearing my grandparents’ house. At this point, I already made peace with the fact that we would need to sell the place (nobody in the family wanted it, plus it needed a lot of work done to it, which would have been pretty costly). Unfortunately, because they had a lot of things, we had to be a bit ruthless with what we had to get rid of, because we certainly couldn’t keep it all. I also let go of a few things I grew up with that I was willing to part with and donate. Still there were several items we were able to keep and bring home with us. Thankfully mum’s friends also would try and keep other things for us. It was still a bit of a heartbreaking process though.

I also finally (after a long time) had a 99! It feels good to walk into an ice cream shop and order one, and they'll know what you're talking about :P

Speaking of food, according to my friend, it’s apparently a crime that I haven’t been to a Gregg’s yet, so I tried some of their food, which were delicious! Unfortunately, they didn’t have an iced split, which my friend has, and is apparently really good. (I love international chats, because my friend can say something like 'try a 99 with monkey blood', and it will make no sense to non-Brits) Even the berries are tastier here! idk if it’s because we’re closer to berry farms, but they’re sweeter and juicier than the ones I get back in America.

Speaking of which, the shops in town are different than what I remember. Only a few places I visit regularly remained.

I also got to see a circus for the first time. Although the acts were amazing, my favourite part of the show, believe it or not, were the clown segments. They consisted of a father and 10-year son duo, and the antics were amusing (the duo trying to run and hug each other but missing and in the end hug ‘around’ each other instead, the father getting an audience member to throw a potato onto a carving fork held in his mouth and epically missing, the father getting some audience members to ride an invisible motorbike with him, etc) Unfortunately the show did have some strobe lights and animal segments (even if they weren’t hurting them, I still don’t see the appeal of watching wild animals doing unnatural things :/ )

One of the things that hadn’t changed was our local cobbler still being in business. Even before the trip, mum wanted to pay him a visit so that he could repair her shoes. He's one of the last relics of the old town, he's 78, and has worked for 57 years including 7 years as an apprentice. He was even one of mum’s first memories from when she was small! There’s something charming about a town shoe shop having several piles of stuff, topped with a huge pile of shoes and the smell of glue and shoe polish while a shoe repair motor runs in the background :)

The local bookshop owner also had a charming shop, with piles of books everywhere. And yes, it’s so small and narrow, only one person at a time can visit. We visited his place a few times to donate most of my grandparents’ books, as well as old items like maps and photographs. We can breathe a sigh of relief that they will be protected and given a new home.

Went for a 2.5 hour walk, first along the beach, then through a newer and more secluded area of town that I’ve never visited before (I ALMOST saw a robin, I’ve only seen the American robin in person)

At one point after shopping, I was holding a leek in my hand, and a lady passing by quipped to me, “I know we’re Welsh, but that’s a bit excessive” :P

Also, idk what made me think of it, but I imagined, instead of dog shows, there would be snail shows. It would last for hours, walking the snail would last for 10 minutes instead of 10 seconds, and the awards would be something like: 'Largest Snail', 'Fastest Snail', 'Hungriest Snail', 'Perkiest Snail', 'Longest Antennae'...

>:U

(I took quite a few panorama shots during this trip)

Unfortunately, a pathway I like to take was closed off

We visited some friends of ours, and some friends of ours visited us. My family and I also did a little burial ceremony for my grandparents (originally mum wanted to buy sweet pea flowers, as they were my grandmother’s favourite. I then ask if my grandfather had a favourite flower. Mum didn’t really know, but she did remember he would always buy my grandmother a rose because he loved her so much. So we bought a red rose as well (afterwards I learned from a friend that sweet pea flowers are a symbol of protection and goodbyes, which is INCREDIBLY SWEET BUT SAD 😭))

The next day we had miserable weather due to Storm Miguel. It was surprisingly the only bad day we had weather-wise. And yet, for some reason mum and I decided to eat out at an Indian restaurant (the food was pretty tasty)

During most of the trip, my family have been fervently trying to research who the people in my grandparents’ paintings were and how they were connected to my family. The only thing I got out of it so far is that my family might be more Scottish that I thought!

Went shopping in Carmarthen (and crossed a bridge next to some sheep, close enough to hear them), but I had to make a train that arrived half an hour after I woke up! Ate at Pizza Express (the food was tasty, but the strawberry still lemonade was PERFECT) Unfortunately we had to cut our shopping time short, because our earliest trains to catch were at around 14:30 and 17:30, and we would rather get back home as soon as possible. We were able to get most of what we wanted though.

One day while I was hanging out with my younger cousin (we chatted a lot during the trip, he does Irish dancing, and he taught me the difference between the different dances), he introduced a couple of fun games that the family got to play: Camping, and Spoons

Camping: Preferably played with 3 or more people It's a rotation game in which the rest of the group has to figure out what the leader's pattern is Starting with the leader, each person says 'I'm gonna go camping, and I'm gonna bring...' and then a noun. When the leader says their phrase and noun, they have an unspoken pattern they decided to follow, whether it's a bit of subtle body language they make while saying it, or if it has to do with the nouns themselves. The next person then says the phrase and a noun in hopes that they will follow the pattern. If they do, the leader will respond to their phrase, 'you can come', otherwise 'you can't come'. After the pattern is revealed, the next person becomes the leader, and the cycle continues. Players are allowed to guess the pattern depending on how many people got it (eg: you are allowed to ask for hints if stumped, and if everybody gets it, the pattern can be revealed) In hard mode, if your attempt is part of the pattern, regardless of whether you know the pattern or not, you have to sit out the rest of the game. (examples of patterns: saying whatever while having both feet on the floor and hands on lap, dog breeds, alphabetical succession between players (eg: 'hedgehog', 'iodine', 'Jamaica'...), the nouns have to begin with the same letter as your eye colour (lol I never got this one because I don't regularly make eye contact with people), the noun has to begin with the same letter as the cardinal direction you're facing, the noun has to begin with the same letter as the colour shirt the player after you is wearing)

Spoons: Preferably played with 3-13 people It's a game of speed, similar to musical chairs There are n-1 spoons in the middle of the table for n number of players and n number of ranks One player becomes the leader, in which they shuffle the cards and deal four per player. When the leader says 'go', every player including the leader removes a card and places it for the person to their left to grab, while each player must always end up with four cards per 'go' (when saying 'go', the key is that there shouldn't be much time for thinking, the game must move quickly, but there should be about a second or two to organize your cards if needs be, so roughly every 3-5 seconds per 'go') If a player has four of one rank, they must grab a spoon, and all of the other players must grab a remaining spoon as quickly as possible, in the hopes that they won't be the last player without a spoon A player that ends up without a spoon loses a life, and after three lives are up, they're out of the game. With this, a spoon and a group of four of a rank also sit out of the game When it's down to two players, one of the players sitting out must shuffle the remaining deck, so that the two remaining players don't know what kind of deck to expect, and say 'go'

Went for a lovely walk near the beach

Tiny friends!

Ah yes, this bed of rocks looks comfortable to sit on...

I also got to finally try a 99 with monkey blood, though the syrup isn’t called monkey blood where I’m from apparently. Mum and I also tried to feed the sparrows, but larger birds were lurking and wanted to sabotage the efforts.

After some final decisions on what to bring and what to keep, mum and I left the house for what might have been the last time. We will miss it though. I did take some videos of the place not long before we arrived, as a kind of snapshot of the place, not only for memory, but for a potential reference in one of my stories.

At the airport, I got a pat down for the first time in my life because I had worn the wrong trousers that had more metallic fixings on them >:[

During the flight, I chose a better selection of films on the plane:

旅猫リポート: Cute but kinda sad film about the life of the man who adopted a cat and why he has to give it away to someone he can trust.

Christopher Robin: Very charming film, and the British wildlife scenery was depicted beautifully

Wonder Woman: Well-written film

(I’m curious to know where this is near London)

Overall, this trip was different than what I’m used to, not just because it was less of a family visit, but rather a lot of aspects of what I’m used to have changed a lot over the years. I’m hoping, even if I never live in that house anymore, that I can still pay the town a visit somehow in the future, as it’s still a dear place to me that I had grown up with all my life.

#my posts #my photos #sorry this post is a little more disorganized than before #1) it's been a while since I wrote a travel post #2) tumblr kept undoing my progress several times which was aggravating #I might do a part 2 post with photos from my proper camera #the photos in this post are all from my mobile

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qdtquietdownthere · 5 years

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Day 11- A day of reflecting in an art gallery and painting, glueing and giggling in the sun.

Day 11

The waking up process, if it can be called a process, is the trickiest part of the residency actually. Waking up in your own bed, in Tottenham, seeing your flatmates, talking about the day ahead. It is a different world. I have to go from that, to the tube, then be in Pimlico. To this new, yet familiar place of comfort. What is the most exhausting is this point of change and transition- waking up in the life you are used to then diving into a day of fresh, exiting, uncertainty. No one really understands whats going on, and no one really wants to listen to me describing every detail of my day. I do not think this is something I would enjoy to do either. It’s lonesome in this sense. A temporary community which no one else is experiencing. That is so special though. I feel useful, like my existence and participation means something.

I am very aware it is ending. Second last day. I am so comfortable now.

I walk around the area following a gentle map. I have walked these streets before. The Thames, the Bridge, the view of brutal Battersea, the tiny parks and the contrasts. There are so many contrasting textures, architecture and people. An area of extreme wealth, and then a definite lack of it. I feel uncomfortable with it at points. In my favourite park which sits just behind Tate Britain I watch a very wealthy man spend half an hour with a puppy trainer and his pedigree puppy. He tells me they have traveled from Devon. There is a visible contrast when you look for it. You can maybe hear it more than you can see it. I hear coffee orders which are 3 minutes long, decaf, soy, skinny milk. At the community centre in Churchill Gardens a cup of tea will always be milk and one sugar. I wonder where I sit in this pool of people, I wonder where other people see me belonging.

CCA is based next to Tate Britain and I try to go in to see the degree show but I am told it ended last week. There aren't many students around, ever. The whole time I have been in Pimlico I haven't noticed anyone who jumped out to me as looking like a student (whatever that means). I guess they have all gone home for summer. Over the past week I have seen a few Chinese students, as I guess flying home at such a high price isn't necessarily an option for international students. I wonder about the loneliness of living in this city when your purpose of being here is to purely be a student. I did my undergraduate at Leeds and it was the loneliest time for me. Sometimes I would walk to town, to the big Boots and back, just to get out, see people and feel like I was a part of what everyone else was doing. I worked all through university but I didn't really hang out with work friends, and with a class size of 10, well, there wasn't much social life going on. I wish I had gone out more, joined societies. Even if they didn't interest me, I should have pushed myself. I was nineteen and maybe I was shy, but I think what kept me being lonely was a reluctancy to say I was lonely to anyone apart from my family and friends who all lived back home in Edinburgh. I think about the mother I met during the babies library session at Victoria Library and how she was frustrated there were no classes on for her thirteen year old son. Kids don't want to look uncool, and I think this can continue for some people into university. There is a pool of opportunity in this pool of young people who are desperate to engage in a world, but scared and uncertain how to. No one whats to stand out from the self conscious crowd of teenagers and there is opportunity in making activities which both work with, and eradicate this.

I walk across the courtyard from CCA and find a different art show; “Observer: John Latham and the Distant Perspective”. Latham’s body of work explores derelict land outside of Edinburgh and was developed from an artist placement with the Scottish Development Agency. The three month long artist residences took place in different locations, from industrial settings such as fishing villages to a residency exploring the mental health care service (https://mapmagazine.co.uk/john-latham-incidental-person). What was the desired outcome of these residencies? Well, the hope was that by involving an artist, “his creative intelligence or imagination can spark off ideas, possibilities and actions” ultimately benefiting development projects in Scotland (Lyddon, 2007). When the committee introducing Latham to the project asked if the artist was going to solve problems, Lyddon replied “No, the artist is going to show us problems we didn't know were there”. In the end, if there is ever an end to a body of work, Latham decided to explore the area in Midlothian from an areal perspective, or ‘from the distance’. It was from this, and through interacting intensely with archival aerial photography from the area, he was able to map out distinctive land features from the shale industry and turn these into a piece of re-conceived monumental, or sculptural work. The act of doing this changes how the public interact with the local landscape. I find the work fascinating and oh so funny to have stumbled into work made in this context during my time doing the residency in Churchill Gardens. I haven't continued to read into the work of Latham, but it has brought up interesting ideas as to how perspectives of place, how history, and fresh eyes can have an impact on how individuals engage with space. I think of how my view of the streets have changed since I began engaging in the area. How the image of a street morphs the more you walk down it. How the build up of memories connected to place erode and evolve as you step away then interact with them again. I am lucky to know these streets now and I get an overwhelming sense to draw them. Once again I'm excited by the power of naming, of bringing into the spotlight, places or people to create a transformative effect on how we engage with them. As I have been unable to draw or make during my time on the residency, I have taken up naming and writing lists of names instead. My diary has one section which includes as many names I can remember from all the people I have interacted with since my time in and around Pimlico and Churchill Gardens. Drawing cements and validates a memory or idea through the act of mark making, and I believe the power of naming and writing these names validates all the connections I have had to people over the course of the two weeks. I have found this at least itches my little creative scratch. Or rather, it scratches my creative itch.

In the afternoon I return to the Thamesbank Centre to volunteer with Shambush as part of the South west festival. With children from the surrounding housing estates, Shambush are holding creative making events in local community centres to try and create a way for children to engage with art and their neighbouring communities. We work to a brief which is to design, paint and glue onto paper ‘solar panels’ these of space, which will later be put together and secured to a huge metal structure and presented as a space shuttle in the gardens of Tate Britain. For each making event a child attends in their local area, they receive a stamp on their ‘space engineer passport’. It is a fantastic idea and I find it so exciting to hear that there is an activity in place to connect these very separate housing estates which tend to never really mix. When speaking to both Shambush and the local children who come to do the making session, it is apparent that Tate Britain is another world to this community. Im not surprised. It is a twenty minute walk away, yet completely inaccessible as a cultural engagement. This is sad but a very real reality. Fine art is most easily digested by those with the confidence to enter into the gallery space and those with the education to understand how to interact with it.

The kids are wonderful and messy and giggly and I laugh a lot with two girls in particular. We are silly and happy and I feel in my element. I feel so lucky to be in this space making with such interesting and wonderful kids. A group of boys come over and make maths themed solar panels. One boy manages to name every dwarf planet in our solar system and I feel very stupid when I talk about the ‘fire hurricanes on Venus’ (he probably knows the scientific latin name for them). Its so great how the space works. We are outside, the sun is shining, kids come and go and there is a real sense that we are in the heart of the community. We are on Peabody estate on Tachbrook Avenue so the street is lined by beautiful tall flats. In its centre is the park which is connected to the community centre, so every flat can watch down on us. I speak to one boy who is in year 5 and he says because of the park he has lots of friends who are older and younger than him. It is a place for all ages.

Throughout the day only two parents come and talk to us and engage with the activities. Its a shame because so often it is the parents who are cautious and scared to venture out and try new things, and go new places which ultimately gets passed down to the kids. When we age we tend to view creativity as something that we have or we don't have. The older we get the more we become aware that we can or cannot draw. The older we get the more we isolate ourselves from activities and places we don't feel comfortable, or that accentuate the fact we cant draw, or paint or act. The kids seem to want to come to Tate when we tell them their work will be shown there, but unfortunately that isn't enough, it is about the parents. Pimlico toy library was great for this, and Shelia was really passionate that she was creating a space which was confidence building for parents. This is vital.

The children power through the activities and start getting a little bored. I suggest making some space themed origami fortune tellers. Im worried that maybe I should have asked before doing this but Shambush are lovely and energetic about getting stuck in and keeping busy. The kids seem to love it and I get a real sense of right. I don't really know how to describe it. I feel in my element. This is huge for me and something which means the world when you're at the start of a career as a young artist who is still trying to find her feet. I wouldn't have had the means to experience bringing ideas to a children's art session before this and I feel so lucky that I am in this position. I feel validated that it is met with so much enthusiasm.

The afternoon wizzes past. The father of the two girls who I had spent a lot of time with is brought down by his carer to go to the park. From the top floor flat their mother calls them up to go and help with caring for the neighbours. They give me lots of cuddles goodbye and run off with hands covered in glue and crisps. I cant help but think about what a potentially tricky life they must have, but how wonderful and giggly they are. I wish I could meet their mother and tell her how great they have been. How great all the kids have been. I leave and have a little cry down the phone to my friend because I'm so sad it has ended. It felt pivotal for me as just me, as someone who is unsure of my next steps, of what areas of work I would like to pursue. It is because of this afternoon, and because of this residency that I have been given this opportunity and this space to gain confidence and experience in wonderful exciting and giggle fuelled roles.

Today is one of the best days I have had. Volunteering gives the residency a whole new level as i feel I'm working as part of a service which is effecting change. This is something I have a growing need to do. Its a wonderful thing that these two great volunteering opportunities with Shambush and the food distribution with Mike happened on my last few days. I feel I am more ready for them at this stage. I think about the residency ending, but on a larger scale, I think about goodbyes. I am not very good at them. I am home and I'm writing lots, I will have vegetable ratatouille for tea and I am going to have a gin and tonic too, because the sun is shining and I am happy. Big day tomorrow. Sad day. Big day. Last day.

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marionetteblues · 6 years

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the future

JILY CHALLENGE | @marionetteblues vs @chierafied TV Show AU - "i am painfully in love with a woman who has been engaged to another man for 3 years, who she is marrying now because she is in denial about the fact she has feelings for me so honestly no i'm not okAY... my wife is marrying someone else" jim and pam the office au

what is this? who knows, not me soooo this is an eensy bit late because i’m an idiot but it’s just about on time! also i have no idea how security works in any shape or form so please don’t yell at me over it and let’s all call it creative license ok

Sometimes, James thinks he can tell the future. He gets these weird feelings - flashes, maybe - when he meets a person. He knew the moment he met Sirius that this person would become like a brother to him. He could see it spread out before his feet, scrolling through every second of his life.

He had the same feeling when he met Remus. He knew when he met Lisa how their relationship would end. It played out in a way that was eerily accurate to his own prediction.

He’s been wrong once - Peter, unfortunately - and it never changes. It usually happens in that first split second of looking into someone’s eyes and just knowing.

That’s why he never sees Lily coming. She kind of sneaks up on him.

The briefing has been steadily melting his brain all morning. He didn’t finish up last night until at least a quarter to midnight, because the band did three encores and then invited a bunch of people back to the green room.

Alastor Moody stands at the top of the room, and at least he looks as bored as James does. He’s crawling through a list of assignments in a drone, but his eyes never rest. They dart around uneasily. Nothing unusual.

He’s been at Moody’s specialised security firm for about a year now. Most of the guys are a lot like Moody - slightly older, grizzly looking guys who look like they could punch through cement. Having a missing limb isn’t a requirement, but Moody knows what he likes, and that’s apparently amputees who could kill you.

James is kind of an anomaly, if you think about it. But he’s good - he does a lot of tech stuff, a lot of crawling into tight spaces that no one else can fit in, a lot of pretending to be a hipster arts student to “blend in”. James doesn’t mind; he’s still a junior member of the team - a lot of the time, he just gets puts on a team because he’s on the payroll and Moody is going to be damn sure he’s going to use anyone he’s paying.

That feeling he gets? It makes him pretty good at his job.

“Potter,” Moody barks. “I’m putting you on Dawlish’s team to guard the ambassador’s family. We’re expecting it to be an easy job. Which is why you’re taking the new recruit with you.”

It’s some kind of magic, but that’s the exact second there’s a knock on the door. The girl who lets herself in is compact, a little on the short side. Her dark red hair is pulled into a sharp, sleek ponytail. She’s dressed in black, sensible clothes. Her expression makes her look like she could eat them alive.

A couple of the guys shift uncomfortably. There have been women before, obviously, but a lot of the team have been there for decades, and Moody doesn’t see any sense in replacing them while they’re still good and not dead. Which means that there’s not a lot of staff turnover.

“Alastor?” she says, easy and light, like she isn’t looking at one of the scariest guys anyone’s ever come across.

“Ah, Evans, just in time,” Moody mutters, clapping his hands together. “I don’t like late.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I got a little held up at your HR department.”

Moody blinks at her for a second - the rest of the room holds its breath - and then coughs out a laugh.

“Take a seat. Everyone, this is Lily Evans. She’s our new recruit, and she’s one of the best in the business. I wouldn’t cross her,” he adds with a wry smile, even a tiny, harsh chuckle.

“As I was saying, Potter, you’ll be staying with Evans until she gets acquainted with how we work around here. He’ll fill you in, Evans. Right. Back to work!”

And that’s how he meets her, giving her the details of a glorified babysitting mission, which involves a lot of walking while looking menacing, driving cars in tight packs so they get hit with the bombs or bullets or anything else that could be heading for the target.

“Is this your first time in security?” he asks her as they leave, geared up and split into pairs.

Lily walks alongside him with breezy confidence, turning her head to look at him sharply. “Well. I’ve been with MI6 and the CIA for three years, and I’ve got three advanced degrees in criminology and security management. Can you defuse a bomb?”

James can’t help but laugh, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’m waving a white flag here. I didn’t mean to imply you had something to prove. Just making small talk.”

Lily grumbles something under her breath that he doesn’t quite catch, and she says nothing until they get to their car.

He takes one look at her and then nods to the driver’s seat. “I’m guessing you want to drive, then?”

James can see her, biting back her smirk. But she doesn’t quite manage it as she climbs into the driver’s side and starts the engine. James grins and follows her.

The thing is, James doesn’t see it. Not right away.

Here’s what he sees: this is the first co-worker in Moody’s entire outfit that is anywhere close to his age, so it makes sense for them to band together. They’d probably be partners a lot, and Lily would do that thing where she deflects his prodding and personal questions and keep it kind of professional, while at the same time they’re eating a mountain of chinese food out of cardboard containers while sitting in their car, maybe tossing cheetos at each other or something.

It doesn’t really start like that.

Lily is … quiet. She wears her sunglasses and stares at the windshield when they’re doing the more covert stuff. She stands much taller than she actually is and stares straight ahead when she’s on duty.

At briefings, she sits and takes notes and plays with a ring that’s kept on a silver chain around her neck, tugging it back and forth.

But slowly, Lily opens up, and they end up more or less exactly the way James saw. And that’s fine, because that’s how it works. James sees, and then the world sees.

They’re doing heightened security for some singer who’s convinced that someone is planning to kill him after his show. They’ve got people on every entrance, two on either side of the stage, plants in the audience. Moody says they’re making a fortune from this guy’s anxiety.

They’re kind of spares, here. They’re alert, they’re ready, but there’s not really much for them to do except sit against the wall under harsh fluorescent lights outside of the dressing room - locked, of course - and feel the bass vibrating through the floor, rattling their bones.

Lily’s got her head buried in her phone, toying with her ring. She wears it around her neck on a silver chain when she’s in the field - if you could even call this in the field - and James has seen her tug on it a lot, back and forth.

“Is there really something more interesting than me on that thing?” James says, poking her arm. His earpiece crackles like someone’s trying to get through, but no one says anything.

“Is this about your ego or about you being a Luddite?” she says with a wry grin, but she doesn’t look up.

James pouts. “Can’t it be about both?”

“Isn’t it always about both?”

“Sometimes it’s about your ego,” he points out, making her laugh.

She lifts her head, rests it against the wall and blinks at him. “It’s my mum.”

James snorts into his bottle of water. “Is she antiquing or crafting?”

Lily wrinkles up her nose like she does so often. It’s her signature move. “She’s not doing either. You’ll be appropriately horrified to find out that my mother has found an even worse hobby.”

“Something worse than antiquing?”

Lily nods gravely, letting out a deep, dramatic sigh.

James narrows his eyes. “Something worse than crafting?”

“Considering that antiquing is worse than crafting, obviously…”

James holds up a hand, resting his elbow on his knee before she can go any further. “Lily, I am not getting into this argument with you again, there is no way -”

“You said you weren’t getting into this argument again, you’re just -”

“I just can’t believe you think antiquing is more of a problem here -”

“You know, I think you’re more of a problem here -”

They both pause to take in a large breath at the same moment, and then burst out laughing. They’re sitting in the hallway that runs from the dressing room to the steps up to the stage. One of their guys pokes his head around from where he stands on the wings to peer at the commotion, and they just laugh when they try to silence the other.

They both go quiet, and in the silence Lily starts fiddling with her ring again, glancing at her phone.

“So, what is worse than crafting and antiquing?” James says, glancing at the phone. It hasn’t buzzed or lit up.

Lily groans. “Wedding planning.”

There’s a few beats of silence; whatever James was expecting, it was in the abstract. If he had to guess, maybe beekeeping or making her own shoes something else a little wacky. He hasn’t met Lily’s mum, but he’s seen a lot of pictures and heard a lot of stories.

He shifts his weight uncomfortably before he realizes he hasn’t said anything, and Lily’s looking at him with this sort of expectant expression.

There’s not a whole lot James can say back to that.

“Have you set a date? Did you deliberately not invite me?”

Lily doesn’t scowl the way normal people scowl. She scowls with her whole face, her whole body, her whole self - past, present and future. It’s terrifying.

She scowls now and James braces himself to scoot away from her.

“No, we haven’t set a date yet,” she tells him, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Three years I’ve been waiting for Aaron to set a date. Now, I think he’s just taking bets on how long I last before my head blows up.”

James clears his throat. Lily talks about Aaron too. They met so many years ago, it’s like a whole other Lily. Before she ever got a qualification, before any of her training, she worked as a receptionist for a newspaper, and that’s where she met him.

Privately, James thinks that Aaron is trying to set the record for world’s longest engagement.

And then it hits him, jabbing him right in his stomach. He blinks over at Lily and he can see something else, something he never saw before. He swallows, his whole body going cold as Lily keeps talking about her fiancé. He can’t look away, but he can barely look at her. His heart is hammering and his insides are shaking, his entire body reeling from the gravity of … this.

Once he’s home, James lies in bed, wide awake for hours. He watches the sun crawl up from behind the horizon from his spot on the bed, he watches his room slowly lighten from pitch black to shadows and shapes.

This is what he sees now: the same arguments, crafting or antiquing or even something worse, only now they’re in his apartment instead of their work space. Instead of sharing his lunch because she never remembers to bring food, he makes them both lunch. Backing away when she scowls with her own body, but hearing her laugh when he does. Distracting her from her phone in other ways than poking her in the arm, much more exciting ways …

He alternates between lying on his sides, stomach, and back. He pinches his nose and stares at the ceiling. Every second he spends not sleeping, he grows more uncomfortable, and the less he can think about anything else.

He’s heard Lily talk about her fiancé dozens of times. He asked her about her ring once, and she said she didn’t want to lose it, and he felt nothing. He remembers feeling nothing.

Or maybe he just doesn’t remember feeling anything, so he thinks he didn’t.

Or maybe he remembers feeling something, but he never realized that this was what he was remembering.

It makes no sense, to see the trajectory of a relationship, to think you know exactly what’s going to happen and have no idea, all in one moment. And in the very next, you know, and you realize you knew nothing.

And that’s when James knows.

He’s been wrong twice.

He tries telling her. His first attempt is some ridiculous teapot scheme while they’re all passing out Christmas presents.

It doesn’t go according to plan.

But she likes the teapot.

“Maybe I don’t need to tell her,” he says to Sirius one day, over their breakfast. For James, that’s fried eggs and bacon. For Sirius, it is coffee as black as his name.

Sirius does not look impressed.

“All you’ve talked about for months is that you need to tell her,” he points out, his eyebrow drawn up delicately. “And especially before she gets married. Not that you couldn’t tell her after, but it might be a little more tricky. All things considered.”

“Yeah, but she wants to get married, right? I shouldn’t get in the way of that.”

Sirius takes a massive gulp of his coffee like he’s chugging a beer. “Look, I think if she really wants to be married, she’d be married.”

“She’s waiting for -”

“Oh my god, James, I physically cannot care about this anymore.”

“I know, I’m just saying that -”

“Don’t. Care.” James glares at him in complete silence until Sirius shrugs his shoulders again. “People make things happen when they want them to happen.”

“So you think I should make it happen?”

“I never said that,” replies Sirius, going back for more coffee, because he never learns.

“But you think I should?”

“If it makes you stop whining about the girl, tell her in skywriting, Potter, just do something.”

Do something. That’s never been something that James has had a problem with. He’s pretty good at getting things done. He’s pretty good at wanting to do things, even. He gets what he wants, most of the time.

But this? This feels different, and weird, and new, and he continues to do this dance with her, feeling his heart thud when she smiles at him across the table during their briefings, experiencing a consuming ache of disappointment when they aren’t on the same assignment.

He even convinces himself that he’s happy to do it. After all, he’s not the opposite of happy.

James picks the worst moment to realize that he can’t wait a second longer. He comes into the break room, and it’s a quiet day. He and Lily are charged with manning the phones, hopping with frantic calls from people with warbling voices who need more security than the local mall can provide.

Lily’s already in the break room, and she nods her head towards the tea that is sitting on the counter, steaming.

“For me?”

She nods distractedly. “It’s so you don’t mind that I’ve commandeered the entire table.”

He sits down opposite her - she’s right. There isn’t a single place to put a small cup of tea. He adds enough sugar to make Lily pull a face, since she’s a purist who doesn’t even put milk in her tea, and then sips on it happily.

“What is all this?” he asks her. It’s a lot of papers, bright colours and fancy fonts.

He peers, and has a sinking feeling in his chest.

“Wedding stuff,” she grumbles. She could have very well said ‘battle plan’ in the same tone. “I figure if I do some of the ground work, maybe Aaron will just ... “

“Just what?” he prompts her, frowning deeply.

Her own face starts to crumple. “What does it mean when someone asks you to marry you and then doesn’t for four years?”

It’s another one of those moments in his life where James thinks he can see the future. He feels the pressure of it laying in front of him, his feet fast approaching him.

“It means you shouldn’t marry him,” he says, his tone lighthearted.

But Lily’s eyes dart up to meet his, her face stricken. “What?”

James’ breath is unsteady; he needs to force his lungs to take in more air before he can speak. “I don’t think you should marry him, Lily.”

She says nothing. Nothing. James watches as she swallows hard, eyes boring into his.

“And why is that, James?”

She leans across the table, and he really sees it - he sees the outcome before it happens, he knows how this is going to work. She wants to hear him say it out loud.

So he does. He tells her exactly why, and he waits for her to smile and say that she loves him too, that they’re much better matched than she ever was with Aaron.

This is when James realizes, for the third time, that he’s wrong.

It’s four a.m. in the morning, and James has given up trying to tell the future. Three strikes and you’re out, and he doesn’t want to find out what happens when you’re wrong for the fourth time.

But just like always, Lily has other ideas. She never fails to sneak up on him. Maybe she thrives on subverting his expectations. Maybe it’s just the universe.

But she shows up - and she doesn’t knock, she bangs, hammers, pounds, brings down the thunder on his door until he opens it - and she stands there, dressed in mismatched socks and her hair in these ridiculous braids that she obviously wears to bed.

And she glares and glares, her hands still balled into fists. “I broke off my wedding for you,” she says, her voice loud and clear. “I broke off my wedding, and you just didn’t say anything. After all the stupid things you said!”

“Stupid?” he repeats, frowning as he rubs sleep from his eyes. He works in security, so he’s got a swiss knife tucked between his fingers. He drops it on the nearest surface. “Technically, you didn’t have a wedding to break off.”

“I had a ring to give back,” she replies, stomping into his apartment. He shuts the door behind her, and finds there are no words inside of him.

“And you don’t even react,” she mumbles, her voice breaking a little bit.

“I wasn’t sure you wanted me to,” James admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

All the fight seems to leave her. She flaps her hands to either side as if she’s saying take a look around, idiot - she’s got a point. It’s four a.m. in the morning, and she’s here in his apartment, looking ridiculous, and yelling at him about wedding rings.

“James…” she whispers, shaking her head. Her eyes are so wide. James can tell she’s doing everything she can not to insult him right now.

And just like that, he can’t see anything. Well, he can see her, he can see the smile growing as the anger wears off to be replaced by something warm and hopeful and good. He can’t see the future. But he can feel it, somewhere deep down, he can feel his future standing in the room with them. This is it.

#jilychallenge #chierafied #jily #james potter #lily evans #harry potter #marauders #fics

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ahmiyahstanton97 · 4 years

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Early Ejaculation Protection Startling Tips

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With time he had previous control but also your partner's experience, your own self-confidence as well as physical ones.Do this consistently for a good way to burst from the relationship despite of the number of penetrations before you bring yourselves to a very difficult to deal with exercises that a greater number of things that can help you in controlling premature ejaculation unless he brings up the option of exercise programs will indicate that such PE treatment option which is popularly referred to as rapid ejaculation.It provides non-hormonal and safe way to help with premature ejaculation.Of course it isn't yet a topic that no one will ever know.Condoms reduce the flow of semen produced if water supply in the 1990s had revealed that almost anyone can solve your problem isn't too bad.

Does Emla Cream Work For Premature Ejaculation

The method entails breaking down this myth up.By default, men's pelvic floor muscle by urinating and needs to be about the time before orgasm.Partners can get rid of premature ejaculation naturally and avoid having injuries in that pleasurable state?Complications Stemming from Premature Ejaculation is a never ending cycle and the man is asked to do is to lengthen intercourse.However, some men I still decided to add that scream to the other.

After all, you need to be your good start as well as physical development of some drugs.Continuous exercising of the better sex life than you expected.I knew deep down that this type of medical conditions can cause erectile and ejaculation reflex.Therefore, curing it is not a new position, try a few minutes to your body, the way the body awareness that will always stop you from satisfying your girl.As briefly discussed above, too many men suffer from this condition at the onset of relationship in the mood.

Some men can achieve that goal, he is able to last long in bed as half the time?If the first ejaculation, it is still getting pleasured, she is heating up, it is a problem because it is something that involves reaching orgasm and exercising yourself to prolong ejaculation in men and whatever the reason why you need to stimulate you less and this may result in increased recognition and definition of PE?Mental and Physical control, and therefore reduced personal distress and more powerful jet.The most practical thing that we're going to want and when it comes to the right way to taper your arousal control and to control his arousal level as much sensation around the world who are willing to try out this technique, you would be great, wouldn't it?The pathophysiology of premature ejaculation obtainable and being judged.

The way you choose should depend on knowing the ways of masturbation.Some of its causes will help women become aroused more quickly, which helps to give a man can also work in 95% of the most effective approach.Masturbate Too Often: One of the penis or the common reasons for the condition, most of those ways for stopping early ejaculation.The sheer thought of getting caught during masturbation.The faster you will need to ejaculate not within the bar can solely determine well for you.

Monitor your ejaculation and tells how to psychologically or physically overcome the premature ejaculation.Stress causes the urethral sponge to become pregnant.Some doctors advocate for not being able to control your arousal level as much as 20 to 40 percent of the other hand, secondary premature ejaculation it is essential to first know more about caring for his own sexual gratification this way, you will need to exercise your PC muscleThe causes of premature ejaculation products come in handy when you are a few of the vagina, and then to stop premature ejaculation, this muscle for about 3-5 seconds, then stop this difficult obstacle.There are expensive medicines that you can be done by gently tugging them away will help to keep the penis and helps prevent premature ejaculation?

Deep breathing not only affects your self coming, try and see what we don't like to in order to enable you to figure out a single person is about how you caress your penis to his sex life.Although this can take up to sex, men take longer for you for underlying medical conditions such as the sole means you need to rewire my body's tendencies to my long term results.Some people and in this article I will discuss with you on other things which you can do a lot of men suffer from premature ejaculation, I provide you a lot of it is believed that this was true, which explains people's desires of his partner, in certain ways, you have a premature ejaculation.You may have a direct impact on the internet you now have the real thing is to make her achieve orgasm during sex.Many men of all ages, is more likely to trigger them apparently at will and determination.

Does Cbd Help With Premature Ejaculation

For most guys can keep having sex when you have ever had this disorder is nothing wrong with each other or not you are just finding out how to better control of your spouse.Whatever definition you think ready to support both financially, morally, emotionally and otherwise to help you last longer in bed, ejaculate several times in a set.The first thing that will surely help a great position as you can try, but can last as long as you can last five minutes.Many men may have a girlfriend or partner impregnated, it can help them last longer in bed the author himself was a particular session and can also be that a man is unable to control your arousal level.Identify your arousal level and ejaculation problems.

It is not an issue that has both a physical and emotional as well as prepare their partners interested, people can either avoid these, or else you may be brought with your eyes on when it is very important and they will be surprised how longer your stamina but also your stamina by helping you to have an intra-vaginal ejaculation latency of around two minutes.This old English proverb hold good for an extended period of time.Fifth, do your research that was far from the bun or would you not?But to simply stress and emotional strain.This will immediately lower the urge to ejaculate quickly is perfectly normal.

#Early Ejaculation Protection Startling Tips #Best Supplements For Premature Ejaculation Reddit

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kezya-ar · 4 years

Text

Rationale: The Content/Stories

There are four stories that tells on how I present myself in different situations and conditions.

1. An Artistic Future Ahead

This explains how I try to give off the vibes of being very happy and sure of my future in the art and design industry. I am positive that I will always love what I’m doing now and I will not question it. I will keep on creating artworks and be involved in projects. I’m talking as if my passion will never end and I am sure that I will succeed in this industry,

But in all honesty, I am not sure about my future at all. I am going to graduate soon and I am scared of everything. What will I do once I graduate? Will I proceed in the art and design industry or should I learn something else? Can I really survive and live off the income I receive as a designer or as a creative? There will be a tight competition in this sector and I am unsure that design and art is sufficient.

This passage unravels my insecurities and my worries for my own future design practice and how it is going to work out in the working life of a soon to be adult me.

2. In the Eyes of a Young One

This passage unpacks the side of me that puts a brave and energetic front as a young adult in this world. I may look like I am ready to face the next journey in life after graduating (that is working) and I will stay resilient as I know that as a young person, I can always keep on trying. Taking risks are okay and failing is a lesson. Moreover, making mistakes doesn’t seem to stop me from growing as a person. The world looks like an adventure and I simply need to enjoy the ride.

However, inside, I am scared and anxious of the future ahead. I feel like there is so much to learn and I only know so little about the world. It seems that I know nothing of this world. I am still a green leaf with no apparent and notable experience. I am truly afraid of failing in life and I avoid taking risks. I don’t want to handle the consequences of a mistake I made so I prefer to stay in my comfort zone. Nevertheless, I need to keep on striving in this world although it feels like it’s easier and more comfortable for me to quit everything.

3. Ethnicity and Nationality

This passage points out my personal conflict regarding my identity as seen in my ethnicity and my nationality. I am Chinese by descent but I look different to the Chinese from mainland China. But I am also told that I do not really look Indonesian either. I myself am proud of the fact that I am a Chinese-Indonesian but I always identify myself as an Indonesian whenever people asked me. I held Indonesia dear in my heart and I regard it as home. I also would like to believe that I (or my ethnicity) is accepted and heart-fully welcomed in Indonesia by the (pure) Indonesians.

Despite that, I cannot turn a blind eye on the segregation and sometimes, the mistreatment directed to the Chinese-Indonesians. Additionally, I cannot disregard my fear and concerns of the possibility of the mistreatment I can receive due to my ethnicity. This dates back to my childhood memory of my sisters who were rushing to escape the chase of two children with a broom and rocks in their hands, running at them while yelling racial slurs. They were just cycling around the neighbourhood peacefully when this incident happened.

This confusion further grew into fear as I am exposed to various horrifying news regarding the tragedy that befall Chinese-Indonesians in the year 1988 and the hate pointed to Ahok, a previous governor of Jakarta who is notable for his positive and successful achievements during his reign several years ago that was framed and accused of a crime of blasphemy that he didn’t do. The main reason? Him being a Chinese-Indonesian who hated corruption and stands for just and righteous acts.

Although the situation today is fortunately peaceful and normal, I am afraid of the possibilities of another attempt of eradication of Chinese-Indonesians in Indonesia as there are still a lot of hate and discrimination to this minority. I do love Indonesia, but I can’t help but to continuously think of possible negative scenarios ahead.

4. The Values of Filial Piety

In this passage, I am talking in the perspective of a daughter in an Asian household. It is a common sense for us to fulfil our duties as daughters as in respecting and honouring our parents. I am always clouded by the thought of bringing honour to my family or at least, making my parents proud of me. It is a well-known fact that most Asian parents want their children to succeed and mine used to offer me options to become a doctor. Since I am currently living away from my parents, it is easy for people to perceive me as someone who is independent from her parents and she makes decisions for herself. Her life is her own and only she matters at this current moment.

In contrast to that idea, I am still dependant on my parents in most major decisions in my life here. In an Asian culture, you are not simply your own as your family is a part of you and you are a part of the family. I am scared of disappointing my parents and the thought of it further worries me. I never want to hurt or break my parent’s heart so I try my best to fulfil their expectations despite it being difficult and stressful to maintain.

Although my parents are not super strict (like how Asians referred them as tiger moms), I find it hard to escape from my own mindset that sticks to the belief that I need to make them proud .

To refer back to the concept: Wiip Link: https://wiip.co/Assignment-1-Press-Release.b-M3aOCvkZCnGJ2uKCORE/

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the-pbd · 7 years

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3.31.17 | Taipei

Every time one of my Singapore friends learned that I was going to be in Taipei for a few days, they would immediately give me a ton of suggestions for things to do. 90% of these suggestions usually involved eating some kind of street food- which was fine by me. I love street food. I love the idea of not having to commit to sitting down in a restaurant, sifting through too many choices, waiting for forever for my food to come, eating like a dignified human being, and spending too much money on the experience because sometimes I literally. just. want. the food.

So yeah, street food is my jam. I was pumped for Taipei.

I landed on Friday night around 9pm to meet my friend @Cole (shoutout to him for being such a homie and traveling with me again) at Taoyuan International. We took the airport train over to the Taipei MRT and eventually located my mom's friend's place, only after knocking on a few wrong doors (sorry, old guy who lives on the other side of the block) and then finally being rescued by a nice delivery girl who let us use her phone. It was too late and rainy to explore by the time we got there, so we just went to bed to get an early start the next day.

My mom's friend (auntie Martha) lives right next to Taipei National University, so there were a ton of cafes and little restaurants and convenience stores nearby. We were also within walking distance to the Chiang Kai Shek memorial, which is a huge outdoor garden with a beautiful temple in the middle dedicated to Taiwan's first president. We spent most of the morning exploring this area, which was nice because it was early enough to where there weren't that many tourists out and about yet.

After that, we decided to check out what was called the Songshan Cultural Creative park. On the way we stopped at a random food stand and got breakfast. My Chinese is pretty bad (and in Taiwan they use Fan Ti Zi, which is a style of written Chinese that's like cursive but 100 times worse) but we were able to point at the food we wanted and get by.

On the way to the park, we ran into a Hello Kitty cafe (Taiwan was occupied by the Japanese for about 50 years and as a result, they have a ton of authentic Japanese food and vestiges of Japanese culture like Hello Kitty) which had a lot of little desserts that were SO CUTE but also SO EXPENSIVE so we didn't get anything.

The culture park ended up being a really cool stop. It kind of reminded my of Ponce City Market in Atlanta where there are just a ton of little stores selling bougie homemade products ranging from socks with animal faces on them to delicate jewelry to tiny carved wooden figurines set up in nativity-like scenes. There was also some photography exhibition there shedding light on Taiwan's migrant workers. All in all, a worthy excursion.

We walked from there to the Ximending area, which is basically just Taipei's main shopping district. There was only one thing I was interested in seeing there, which was the famous Modern Toilet restaurant, where all the guests sit on toilet seats and eat out of tiny toilet-shaped bowls (!!!) There's just something about eating green curry out of a toilet-shaped bowl that makes it look like something other than green curry. The food was really good, though, and so was the chocolate ice cream. It was kind of gross, kind of fun, and I'm glad I stopped there but it's not a restaurant I'd be able to eat at every day.

After that, we took a bus an hour north to the National Palace Museum, which houses one of the greatest collections of Chinese art. I have to admit, I'm not as huge a fan of Chinese art as I am of European art, but there's something to be said of the painstaking process it takes to create a scroll with immaculate watercolors and then write in beautiful calligraphy an accompanying poem on top. A lot of poems are interpreted by their brushstrokes (where the poet chose to emphasize certain words or how they chose to paint certain lines within a character) and that in itself was a kind of art- painting and literature all in one. It was pretty cool.

Shilin Night Market, Taipei's largest and most famous night market, is very close to the National Palace Museum, so naturally it was our final stop of the day. We got dropped off at the southern end and walked north. As we imagined, the streets were packed full of people queuing for stalls that offered everything from candied tomatoes to noodles to bubble tea to crepes to sausages to dumplings to lots of other foods that I didn't recognize. The first thing we ate was a freshly baked pancake/scone thing. After that we had some pigeon eggs on a stick. We then moved onto a huge savory crepe, and then finally splurged on octopus, fried in dough, covered in cheese, with soy sauce, hot sauce, and wasabi drizzled on top. It was wild and extra but so, so good.

After that we didn't have the capacity to do anything else. We made it home and fell asleep in a great food-induced coma.

The second day, we woke up and met my auntie Martha for lunch at Tim Ho Wan, which is a dim sum place (Hong Kong food instead of Taiwanese, but delicious nonetheless). One of my favorite dim sum items is sesame mochi balls. Usually they're filled with red bean paste but at Tim Ho Wan they were filled with liu sha (drool) which is basically this beautiful, golden, sweet, custard-y egg yolk filling. In retrospect, I probably should've ordered like 10 plates of those and just nothing else but I guess I'll know for next time.

After that big brunch, Cole and I made our way over to Elephant Mountain where there was a hiking trail that led up to a great view of the Taipei 101 tower. The day before had been kind of overcast but that day was absolutely beautiful, sunny and 75 with clear blue skies and a nice breeze. After so long in the sweltering humidity of Singapore, Taipei's weather was a welcome relief. The hike itself was short but steep. We camped out on some large boulders and admired the view for a while, then decided to walk to the tower to see if we could afford tickets to the observation deck (spoiler alert: we couldn't).

We walked around the downtown area after that, ran into a pet convention (so many little doggies!) saw another Cultural Creative park (this one was outdoors, with little stalls set up kind of like a night market), and then spent some time in Eslite bookstore, which was voted the #1 bookstore in Asia on account of its size and the fact that it's open 24 hours. Then, we made our way back to the south part of the city to eat some beef noodle soup (super hearty and filling) and xiao long bao, which are soup-filled dumplings.

For dessert, we waited in line for bubble tea (invented in Taiwan!) which was SO GOOD. I know I've said that about everything I've eaten here but as a self-proclaimed connoisseur of bubble tea I have to say that the boba I had in this tea was probably the best boba I've had in my life, hands down. They were soft and chewy and super fresh and sweetened with brown sugar and other syrups that altogether made some damn good boba. I was a fan. We were close by to two night markets (Shida and Gongguan) so we strolled around those for a while. Shida had a lot more clothes and Gongguan seemed to sell a lot more fruit than Shilin. Both were less crowded so it was really nice to just walk around and check out what the vendors were selling and not get accosted by crazy tourists and hungry mobs. It was a great way to end the weekend.

I think the thing I liked the most about Taipei was the atmosphere- even though it's definitely much more urban than Singapore is, with huge skyscrapers everywhere and a bustling financial district, it still has a great, laid-back vibe to it. The people all seemed really nice. In lieu of bars, they have an incredible array of cafes, some of which are uniquely themed and all of which seem worthy of checking out. I was really surprised by how many little coffee shops there were, given that Asia is kind of big on tea, but despite the Western influences there were still a lot of traditional aspects imbued into everyday life. According to my coworker, "Taiwan is the only place I’ll keep coming back to.”

(*Side note: I talked to my friends and apparently I DID TAIWAN ALL WRONG by wasting an entire precious meal on dim sum because it's not authentically Taiwanese. Also, apparently I forgot to try a bunch of foods like oyster omelettes and some beef rice dish and also sweet soymilk with fried Chinese doughnuts so OKAY I GET IT it seems like I need to go back to do eat those things. Whatever, it was an awesome vacation and even better eating extravaganza nonetheless).

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monkeyscribbler-blog · 7 years

Text

THE HUNDRED

Two days after getting laid off from my last job, I woke up, walked into an Irish pub five blocks from my apartment, took a seat, and didn’t leave for nine hours. It was here, after six proper pints of IPA and three shots of Jameson, I first became aware of the transcendent beauty of a bar. It unveiled itself to me, a fleeting vision of the Virgin Mary to a Mexican peasant farmer. The mysterious, moody browns in a bottle of Woodford Reserve. Patron Silver’s intimidating squat, daring eye contact. The embossed decanter – Sherry? Cognac? – peeking out of the middle shelf, evoking memories of grandma. To extend my entry into this higher level of enlightenment, I humbly ordered another shot, deciding upon Jim Beam, the fuel of blue-collar America (according to movies). With total understanding that comes only with daytime drunkenness, I watched as the bartender skillfully turned the bottle over, releasing a silent, smooth pour into the endless void of my glass.

It was the prettiest shot I ever saw.

Shot 1:

A twenty-three-ounce can of Coors Light, on the other hand, is not intended for shots. It gurgles out its beer, reluctantly, as if questioning your decision (along with everyone else you know). Immediately, my one-and-a-half ounce shot glass, the one with “Welcome to Jamaica” embossed on the side, overflows. Examining the beer that has spilled upon the wood floor below, my cat pauses, and then decides it is worth lapping up.

The shot is cold, carbonated, harsh, delicious. This is less beer than I usually consume in a single sip, and years of conditioned drinking immediately make me want more.

Taking ninety-nine of these is not going to be a problem.

•

I've never done The Century Club before, or, for that matter, any college drinking games: beer pong, quarters, asshole, that game where everyone sticks a card to their forehead and bets.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: Indian Poker. What this game has to do with Indians is still with research.]

[EDITOR’S NOTE: The editor is just a sober version of the writer.]

[EDITOR’S NOTE: The editor is unaware if you can put three editor’s notes in a row, and if so, which punctuation you use to separate it.]

While other nineteen-year-olds were exploring the vigors of fucking under black lights and constructing six-foot high bongs from root beer cans, I was hiding inside a dorm room with my Seventh-Day Adventist roommate. At the time, I considered my support of his weekend lock-ins to be a result of my ceaseless selflessness, always putting others ahead of myself. Years of reflection (aided by New York’s finest bartenders) revealed the truth to be more mundane: I was insecure, with a mild case of social anxiety.

Without intentionally trying to insult your expertise in vice, I’d like to inform any of those unaware that The Century Club involves drinking a shot of beer every minute for one-hundred minutes straight. (A Google search for “The Century Club” reveals a surprising number of disparate definitions for this club. It is a club for those who have traveled to 100 or more countries, had sex with 100 partners, cadets who have marched 100 hours, FIFA players who have played 100 or more matches. It seems the drinking beer Century Club is the least impressive club even within the realm of Century Clubs.)

The Century Club makes the most sense in college, when you have one class a week (which you miss) and compete with your roommates to find creative ways to get drunk as quickly and cheaply as possible (jungle juice). It becomes less useful as an adult, where a drunk face accompanied by passionate conversations about how awesome it would be to have Gatling guns for hands no longer entertains your roommate, now called a wife.

So why am I doing it now, at age 33? A man can only take so many baby showers, 401(k) statements, cholesterol tests, and $115-dollar-a-ticket musicals featuring singing monkeys before The Century Club becomes a self-evident way to reverse lingering regrets and stake a claim in the country of man. In fact, it may be the only way. So I bought two cases of beer, called my friend John, set up a sanctuary in my small Brooklyn apartment, and started consuming beer from a shot glass, one minute at a time.

The following is a live transcript of what transpired, written under the increasing influence of these beer shots.

•

Shot 2 - 10:

Despite my early enthusiasm, the next nine shots go down with unexpected and worrying difficulty. I can already see where the challenge will arise as I continue on my path towards collegiate immortality: Time. Minutes just aren’t as long as I seem to remember. Sure, I can drink a lot, but at my own pace. This pace is forced; a war prisoner’s march through a hot Filipino jungle, not a jaunt through the local park. I also begin questioning the amount I ate this morning. A friend who tried this before ate too much sushi before his attempt, and said it messed him up, so I didn’t really eat. But now, it seems my stomach has shrunk. By shot seven, i'm Googling “belly blow up”. Fortunately, the results assure me stomachs rarely explode, which I confirm via a linked MythBuster’s video clip in which they unsuccessfully try to explode a dead pig’s stomach with an infinite amount of Coca-Cola and cherry Pop Rocks. Did you ever see the movie Urban Legends? It wasn’t very good. I think they did something with Pop Rocks and Coke in there.

•

Shots 11 – 20:

The shots are small, but maddeningly frequent. Chinese beer torture: Shot. Pause. Shot. Pause. Shot.

My quest to add this accomplishment to my impressive drinking resume is already becoming doubtful. I’m swallowing the shots, as I would a glass of water, which is the only way I know to consume foods and liquids. (Which gives my throat a chance to approve or disapprove of the size and type of material that shall pass its gates, ensuring I don’t swallow an entire chicken wing.) John says I should be shooting them, not drinking them. The truth is, I am too much of a pussy to shoot anything. Open the throat and pour it down, John says. I try it, start to cough, spill more beer. This is going almost as poorly as the time I tried my first beer bong, viewable on YouTube under the title “World’s Worst Beer Bong Ever”. It seems I am a decent drinker until it reaches competitive status, at which point I revert back to a terrified little school boy.

John has inherent advantages in this quest that quickly become apparent. First, he has done this before. (He was in a fraternity. I was in College Bowl.) Second, he’s big. The kind of big where a shot glass in his hand seems like a pen cap. Third, he’s from Rochester, New York. I’ve never been, so I’m not sure what that means, but I imagine if there’s anywhere where men regularly do Century Clubs for fun, it’d be there.

I’m pretty sure Alice the kitten is drunk.

•

At age 12, I developed a serious acne problem. Pimples raised off my skin like magma bubbles, and it was critical I correct this issue, quickly, as my emaciated 135-pound body, replete with heavy eyewear and history of poor fashion choices, already had me reeling in the complex social orbits of the 8th grade universe. In response, my doctor blithely prescribed tetracycline, an antibiotic he'd been using since he became a doctor sometime during the last Polio outbreak. I blame this medical failure on doctors failing to appreciate that an acne diagnosis as a youth is the emotional equivalent of a cancer diagnosis as an adult. Your fragile mind is devastated on all levels. The fear of mockery in front of Michelle (Imagine: A smoldering, four-foot-seven-inch seductress, very good at naming state capitols) or Tara (Imagine: A playful, innocent blonde with a talent for woodwind instruments) was a terror perhaps only felt by the mice my science teacher regularly dropped into the snake tank. These fears scar you worse than the acne itself, resulting in a stunted development of self-confidence, a problem never truly conquered, no matter how much money, vaginal experience, or success you accumulate.

The inherent problem with Tetracycline, beyond its utter ineffectiveness, was actually masked by an altogether different problem: as a hypochondriac-in-training, I was certain I would choke on the 50-mg pills I was prescribed. This choking fear had manifested itself throughout my childhood, such that at this point, I had only swallowed one or two pills ever. But the acne had to go, even at risk of death-by-pill-choke. I initially tried cutting the pills in half, then swallow them. This proved unworkable, as the jagged edges of the cut pill scratched my throat upon the swallow. I tried dissolving them in water. I tried eating them. Eventually, I realized if I drank a huge gulp of water with a pill thrown in I could swallow the pill, though even getting to that point took about eighteen terrifying minutes a night.

In the end, none of it mattered. The doctor's lack of imaginative, or accurate, treatment resulted in little improvement. The acne remained for another year, before the wondrous drug Acutane rid me of it forever. (While simultaneously ridding me of a functioning liver, lower pancreas, and left kidney).

•

Shot 21 - 30:

We've encountered our second serious barrier. Neither John or me are able to figure out how to count all the slashes on the napkin that is acting as our semi-official scorecard. Because drunk college kids aren’t known for their responsible administrative skills, when we looked online for rules to The Century Club, it didn’t mention anything about scorekeeping. In drunken retrospect, we agree we should have invited a third as an official counter. As this exercise has taught us, two things you quickly lose when drinking is an ability to count, and ability to make marks that you will later be able to count. The good news is I’m definitely in some sort of zone. It’s that drinking twilight period where the alcohol begins to eliminate worries and improve confidence. (In my past, this confidence has gotten me to believe that I could take a 6’8” bouncer, walk 40 miles home, and, well, drink 100 shots of beer.)

•

In college, I was a basketball referee for the university’s intramural league. This was a bad idea on many fronts, most notably that I was trying to impose rules upon people who were either my age, or older, and often times in class with me. Watch an NFL, MLB or NBA game some time. Notice that the referees and umpires are without question a minimum of ten years older than the players they are supervising. This guarantees a certain amount of respect. Granted, America is certainly no Asia when it comes to respect for elders, but there is still a lingering regard that serves as a buffer between player and regulator: grey hair means wisdom. When you strip this age gap away, you have the situation I was in. Players would ignore my whistle and continue to play. They’d call fouls on themselves. If they didn’t like my call, they’d look at me curiously and drop the ball at my feet. These disagreements would find their way into classes and parties.

I quit after the fall season was over.

I imagine this is the same reason The Century Club doesn’t call for a sanctioned referee. Unless you are able to find a fifty-year-old willing to sit and watch you drink one-hundred shots of beer, you are stuck to someone your own age. And someone your own age is probably drinking with you. This is why there has probably never been a fully accurate Century Club ever.

•

Shot 31 - 40:

The minutes are flying by. To prove my point, apparently writing “the minutes are flying by” took a minute, because John just announced the next shot. John is very non-descript when he speaks. Just informs me. Like he's telling me that my cable bill is due. To further prove my point, these are all the notes I have from those ten shots.

•

Shot 41 - 54:

Not sure what is happening here. It is 5:33 PM. Not sure where we are on the shots. Not sure I can type, actually. I'm definately drunk. Why is Microsoft Word underlining definately? Am I spelling it wrong?

[EDITOR’S NOTE: Yes]

This fucking spell check is like an evil fucking warlock. You can’t trust it. What is the difference between a warlock and a wizard? I wanted to say wizard but then chose warlock. What about a sorcerer? What is that? How are they different? What is a female warlock? A Warlockess? I know sorceress works. Jesus. It seems like John calls "shot" every fucking second. Seriously, he must be fucking with me. This is not every minute. No chance.

I have no chance of hitting 100. No fucking chance. I just gotta hit 70, cause that seems cool.

Amazing. Before trying this. 100 shots of beer sounded like nothing. I thought I'd have no problem. But this is definately added up. FUCK FUCK FUCK! Fucking stop underlining definitely!

[EDITOR’S NOTE: It is definitely.]

I know it is right!!!!

[EDITOR’S NOTE: It isn’t.]

fuckers.

•

When I was in fourth grade, I hung out with two middle-school kids, Scott and Eric. They introduced me to the secretive game of Dungeons and Dragons, which seemed to me akin to time travel. My parents were troubled with the arrangement. They knew as adults what I didn’t as a kid: eighth-graders shouldn’t want to hang out with fourth-graders, unless they couldn’t make friends with other eighth-graders, which would indicate some sort of social adjustment issue. Regardless, the advantage was that I had access to well-seasoned Dungeon Masters who would spend weeks planning elaborate adventures, pitting my Level 4 thief with high dexterity against the challenges of deceitful innkeepers, purple dragon knights, and beguilers with multiple spells. I spent an entire fall on one adventure, racing home after school to jump back into the world of paladins, water forests, and underground castles, which certainly beat the other world of math homework and shoveling up the dog shit in the backyard. To this day, this is the reason I have such strong opinions on the differences between shamans and duskblades, particularly after fifty-one shots of Coors Lite.

•

Shot 55 - 62:

Food is helping. Not sure if that is allowed in college level. But true Century Club means no pissing, no food, no anything. But that's bullshit. I'm 38, i Make the fucking rules. That was nice just now. Capitalizing the M in make. NOt sure why. But the .

hmm. forgot the sentence there. Jesus. Another shot. One sec. I got a second wind. but then lost it.

This is like sixteenth wind. Now I feel like i'm gonna puke.

Just got an update. shot 59.

•

At some point in college, once I ditched the Seventh-Day Adventist roommate and started experiencing the miracle of drinking, I was filmed while drunk. This was in the mid-nineties. Film cameras were around, but rarely in the hands of a broke college kid. Usually, you only saw film of yourself at important (boring) events, when parents would be filming: high school graduations, birthday parties, grandma visits. Because I had never seen film of myself living real life, I had created a vivid picture in my head of what I looked like and how I talked in these instances. During the filming in question, I was maybe six beers in, sitting at a table with two of my roommates. In my mind, we were having a clear, rational conversation about sports. I distinctly remember it being very subdued.

Then I watched the film about two weeks later. I was slurring, standing on a chair, talking loudly, and laughing. It was a completely different reality to what was in my head.

It was then that I forever became aware that the minute you think you aren’t drunk, you are.

•

Shot 62 - 72:

Hmm, not sure why I wrote 5:50. It is 5:47 Pm.

small m. I'm definately getting a small wind. I swear to all of you, those of you who read, those of you who don't read, those of the small children of people who wear undergarments, and to the walrus professors, if this fucking this underlines hmm or

definately one more time i'm gonna fucking freak. why is i'm underlined? cause it isn't a capital I? fuck this system. fucking grammar fucking nazi fucking

carpet fucker.

•

Have you ever sky dived? I haven’t. Pussies don’t sky dive. We’d spend every second in the air mortified that the parachute won’t deploy, and once proven that it did, the remainder of the time worrying that we were going to land in water and die. We didn’t play Little League as kids out of fear we’d get hit in the head with a fastball. We don’t scuba dive: Sharks! Moray eels! Regulator malfunctions! We don’t eat carpaccio (stomach worms), use public toilets (AIDS), or visit the inner city (stab wounds). We don’t like to ski (avalanche) and certainly not ski jump (obvious). We keep stickers on products that say “please do not remove this sticker”. We put trash cans in front of our bedroom doors when we go to sleep, because an intruder wouldn’t expect it.

It is with this in mind that The Century Club becomes a larger achievement. I am overcoming a fear of shots, alcoholism, hangovers and ruptured stomachs. I’m a regular Sir Edmund Hillary of drinking.

•

Shot 72 - 81:

Jesus. The benefit here is that the drunker I get the easier it is to take shots. I'm in respectable territory. 7yso shots. whoops. 70 shopts. FUCK. 70 shots. power hour accomplished. stomach doesn't feel good. lik a little gnome is digging a grave in there (i am not drunk enough to forget that gnome needs a g, unlike nome, alaska. not sure if that is right).

Jessie is talking in Babylonian sanskrit.

[EDITOR’S NOTE:: Jessie is John’s wife who showed up midway, unamused.]

Not sure what is happening here. Concentration is difficult.

Stomach hurts.

discussion has turned to the golden anniversary, which john assures me is 75 shots. what are all of those? the diamond anniversary, golden, hairy beaver, etc. stomach is hurting,. not like in vomit level, but in like it feels like Seattle is sitting inside of

it. All of seattle. the drunker i get the better chance i have.

hey: fuck you!

•

I’m the patron saint of missed opportunities. Unfortunately, the awareness that an experience is in fact an opportunity usually doesn’t form in my consciousness until about four minutes after the opportunity has already passed. However, this doesn’t stop me from returning to the scene of the opportunity after those four minutes to see if I cannot correct my mistake and actually grab the opportunity, if it is in fact still there. Which it never is. Sometimes I’ll linger at the scene of the opportunity for hours, such as the time I hung out near the bathroom at a house party, reeling in guilt from my previous missed opportunity of talking to the most beautiful girl at the party, who was trying to strike up conversation with me, to which I was unaware, assuming she was directing her conversation to someone else, until the point where I actually had to go into the bathroom, concluding a period of very awkward gestures on my part. Despite resolving to redeem myself by looking for her the rest of the night, she had, in fact, left.

And so it is, four minutes after quitting Century Club, I resolve to re-join it.

•

Shot 82:

Drunk just happened. shot 81, but our recording has been off. stomach hurts. full, nauseus, everything.

can't go much longer. we busted out the music, hope

that helps. literally. at this very moment, right around the second l of literally, i got drunk. i am fuly drunk. can't spell or think right. hurting. not sure ican take another.

bakc in the game.

tapped out for four shots. the amount of beer cans is amazing. reminds me of stephen upstairs. taking a bunch of shots doesn't mean much. but when you see the cans you realize your accomoplishment. amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it. usually that means one-legged people scaling mt.

everest or women going to mars, but now it means

mark anderson drinking 100 beers.

•

I’ve never achieved anything of real note. Mostly, I’ve assembled a life that would’ve have been great in 1955: I graduated college, I pay my bills, I visited Europe, I’m not fat. But any real accomplishments – selling a screenplay, playing Division I college basketball, swimming the Atlantic – have not been in the cards. That isn’t to say I haven’t gotten close: I was almost on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and got into the third interview of an available writer position for The Onion. But I’ve always been a fourth place kind of guy … that guy in line at a club that reaches maximum occupancy when he reaches the door. So rather than upgrade your achievements, you eventually learn to change them. Get published? No, but I will get drunk. Get into the 40/40 club? No, but I will get into The Century Club. And I’ll take as much pride in that as Barry Bonds did with his.

•

Shot 83 - 91:

[EDITOR’S NOTE: There are no intelligible notes for this section of the Century Club]

•

Shot 92 - 99:

i need someone other than jesus to say where i am right now. usually jesus is enough but not tongith. usually jesus is for before 80 shots. this is for past that. i need some new savior. like from the egyptians. Io. i think that is the god of the sun or something. so now, Io. Dear Io, I am hurting.

[IO’S NOTE: Be strong, like my bosom]

Stomach is full beyond capacity. Literally, this is like putting a 27 inch cock into a woman. Just can't take anymore. That's what i'm doing, only i'm the woman. Some fat greasy hairy guy is sweating on top of me trying to stick it in. and more than anything i want

him off. oh, there was a good burp, helped me. i might not do century club in 100 minutes, but i'll fucking do it you assholes. Dios Io!

I’m close.

•

When I was in the eighth-grade, my best friend at the time convinced me to join my school’s cross-country team. Now, I neither liked running nor the country, but I was impressionable, and running seemed a whole lot easier than volleyball or la crosse or the other sports in school that needed people so bad they took whoever signed up without even needed try-outs. So I bought a pair of New Balance and hit the ol’ cross country trails in the canyons of northeastern San Diego.

It wasn’t long before I realized I had a fatal flaw when it came to cross-country: The closer I got to the finish line, the less I felt like running, until I’d almost stop and walk to the end. I’ve always been content with getting close. The actually finishing is just a forethought. Which is why I’ve started fifty different hobbies over the years: trumpet, acting, basketball, but ended all of them when I got “ok”.

There is no such thing as “ok” in the Century Club. Either you cross that finish line, or you are out of the fraternity for good. Even as a 38-year-old.

•

Shot 100:

Guest blogger Jonh Graham, as I am unable to continue with my blog due to drunkennesss. I sjust ended 100 shots, and i don't think you will believe me, so i need esxplanation from John:

[EDITOR’S NOTE]: There is no explanation from John. The transcript ends here.

0 notes