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corvidsinatrenchcoat · 2 years

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spy mission

There's a kid hovering at his counter.

He doesn't say anything - there’s a group of high school students coming in, and he’s the only one working for the next hour and a half. There's no sense in causing trouble where there isn't any.

The last of the students is anxiously typing something into a calculator - judging whether or not he can afford something, Osamu realizes.

He orders, and realizes at the register that he doesn't have as much as he thought.

The onigiri has been rolled. It's a bit late to take something off.

"It's on the house," Osamu says, waving him off. "It's finals week around here, ain't it? Y'all look exhausted. Go home and sleep."

The kid looks at him in wonder, stars in his eyes. "Thank you, sir!" He shouts and Osamu smiles.

"Just Osamu is fine," he says. "Enjoy your meal, and good luck on your tests."

The rest of the boys chorus their thanks, and they leave much livelier than they came in.

"Why'd you do that? He didn't have enough."

Osamu turns back to the kid, who is still hovering. They haven't ordered anything, and there's no adult in sight.

"Ma always says ya get back what ya give out. If I give out a lil generosity, maybe I'll get some back. Doesn't hurt me, and certainly doesn’t hurt that kid."

"What if you don't get any generosity back? You just gave time, effort, and food away for free."

He chuckles. "Then I was nice for no reason, but at least I was nice. I'd still choose kindness. It's only 'cause people were generous to me that I'm here today, so I owe it to them anyway."

"Is that why those homeless people are always camped outside your shop?"

"Maybe so. Don't know for sure - I've never thought to ask. They don't bother me any, and so long as they don't make a mess of the alleyway, I ask the cops to leave 'em be. It's a sheltered space, but it ain't exactly luxurious. They don't tend to stay long."

"Do you give them free food?"

"Precocious lil shit, ain'tcha?"

The kid smiles cheerily. "That's what my uncle tells me all the time. He says it suits me. My mama claims it's his fault I'm like this."

Osamu shrugs, eyeing an online order that popped up in his queue. He starts making it, as he says, "If they ask, sure. I give 'em food. More often than not, if they can pay me later, they do. If they can't, they do other things for me. Some of 'em help clean the restaurant after hours, or help do some advertisin'. A good business ain't all about money. Sometimes, it's about showing good people a touch of grace and hopin' they do somethin' good with it."

"People pretend to be poor to get free stuff all the time."

Osamu shrugs again. "Poor doesn't have a look, and the struggling don't always have it written on their foreheads. If I give some free food to people who don't deserve it, that's fine by me so long as one person who really needed a break was able to find it under my roof. I could be suspicious of everybody, or I could be consistent. This is what I chose, right, wrong or otherwise."

The kid seems puzzled by this, lips twisting into a frown. "Wouldn’t that just let everyone get food for free?"

"You're too pessimistic. Usually, if someone sees that I cut the person in front of them some slack, they tip well. They pass the good forward. Some days, I make more in tips than I would have if everyone just paid for their food. Besides, only people who order in the store would know, and most people order by the web or the app, which doesn't give ya the option to order without payin'."

"You have a horrible business plan."

Now that makes him outright laugh, and he passes one of the onigiri that was supposed to be for the online order over to the kid. "Maybe so, but it makes me happy, and I think that's more important than bein' a perfect cog in the capitalist machine, don't you?"

The kid considers this for a while as they chew, before saying, "My name is Suna Yuu. My uncle Rin sent me to spy on you."

Osamu laughs even harder at that. "Coward." He sounds much too fond.

"That's what I told him!" Yuu shouts.

"And what does your Uncle Rin hope to find out about me?"

Yuu digs in his pocket, and draws out a crumpled note card. "He gave me a list of questions to ask ya. I went off script."

He reads over the questions, written in Suna Rintarou's jerky handwriting. Sure enough, none of the questions are even close to asking about Osamu’s business. Instead, they’re as follows: is he single, is he looking for anyone, is he queer, would he date a man, has he ever considered dating an old friend, what is a good first date, et cetera.

Suna had never been so easy to read.

Osamu hands the card back. "He payin' you for your service?"

Yuu takes a bite. "Said ya'd feed me for free. Guess he was right."

Osamu laughs again. "Well, ya can tell Rin that if he wants the answers to his questions, he can ask me himself. I don't date anyone who can't talk to me in person."

Yuu grins. "I told him it wasn't gonna work. He was so sure you'd fall for it."

"Ya have the same eyes," Osamu says, definitely too fond. "I suspected before I even knew your name."

Yuu snorts, then hops down from the counter, licking his fingers. "That was good. At least Uncle Rin has good taste in food, if not in business men."

Osamu likes this kid. He reminds him of Atsumu, if Atsumu was 10% more charming, 10% cleverer, and 20% less of an asshole. "Do ya need a ride?"

"Nah. Uncle Rin is parked around the corner, so ya wouldn't be able to see him."

Osamu clucks his tongue. "Loser."

Yuu giggles, holding the door open for a little old lady coming in. "That's what I said! Bye Miya-san! See you soon!"

"Bye, Suna-kun," Osamu calls, mood more than a bit improved by this unexpected news. Just how stupid does Rin think he is? Idiot. "I'll be with ya in just a second, ma'am. I gotta make sure that kid gets home safe."

He pulls out his phone and texts Suna.

Yer nephew's headed yer way.

He shuts his phone off, just in time to feel it buzz. He ignores it, and gets back to work.

#sunaosa #osamu's a softie #i don't make the rules #miya osamu #haikyuu ficlet #pre slash #post timeskip #onigiri miya #this is just fluff #all fluff no hurt

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nikibogwater · 1 year

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A Sparrow Among Lions

“You think Dimitri is wrong to want revenge?” Bernadetta whispered, as though she was afraid to ask such a thing out loud.

“No. I have no right to judge him one way or the other. But I do know one thing.” He met her gaze and held it, willing her to believe what he said next. “No one needs you to hate your father, Bernadetta. No one needs you to want him dead. I can do enough of that for the both of us. But there are plenty of people out there who need compassion, who, unlike your father, would take the chance to be better if someone offered it to them. Whatever happens tomorrow, don’t believe for a second that you need to change."

Or: Yuri knows Bernadetta doesn't have it in her to kill her own father.

Noticed a pretty big and fascinating contrast between Dimitri and Bernadetta that also conveniently gave me the perfect opportunity to push my Yuridetta agenda. Revenge is a huge part of Dimitri's motivations in Azure Gleam, and unlike Azure Moon in Three Houses, everyone around him is on board with it--there's no "live for yourself" moment. Meanwhile, Bernadetta makes it clear in each route that while she never wants to see her father again, she doesn't actually want him to be killed. She even expresses relief in the routes where he survives. And then all of this is made even more fascinating by the fact that Azure Gleam is the only route in which the player can, and must kill Count Varley. So after several months of sporadic keyboard smashing, blank staring, and screaming, I have produced this fic to share with all of you.

Read on Ao3

Or in the post below:

If there was one luxury that Yuri could not afford (in truth, there were many), it was hesitation. Both on and off the battlefield, he did not have time to second-guess or step back. If he was lucky, he might have the opportunity to concoct a scheme or a plan before the time for action arrived. But freezing in his tracks was never an option. Whether he was crossing blades with an Imperial soldier or striking up a deal with a shady business associate, he always had to be decisive. It was a lesson he had learned very early on in his career; hesitating could get you killed. Or at least beaten half to death and left in a gutter.

Which was why he was absolutely furious to find himself hovering just outside of Bernadetta’s tent the night before their great battle to reclaim Garreg Mach.

Why did he always hesitate when it came to Bernadetta? Yuri typically prided himself on being a quick learner, yet here he was, more than a decade later, going through the same motions as he had the night he had tried to kill her. And the most frustrating part of it all was the fact that what he came here for was nowhere near as nerve-wracking as attempting an assassination. All he wanted to do was check on her, perhaps offer some advice or comfort, if it came to that. Why was simple friendship as daunting to him now as the idea of killing an innocent child?

Because I have no right. Because I’m the last person in the world she should be friends with. Because I can’t honestly give her reassurance when the prospect of her father’s death is downright tantalizing to me.

Because I’m afraid she’ll realize all of those things and I’ll lose her again.

“Everything alright, Yuri?”

Yuri’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword as he whirled around. Iridescent green eyes blinked back at him, as moonlight reflected off mint-colored locks splayed over armored shoulders. It was the Ashen Demon.

“Saints, you startled me,” he grumbled, letting his hand fall back to his side.

“My apologies,” she replied evenly. “Though I am surprised I managed to do so. You are usually more alert.”

“Yeah. Guess I’m just a little distracted tonight. You know, what with everything going down tomorrow.” Ordinarily, he wouldn’t admit such a thing to anyone. However, there was something oddly reassuring about the Ashen Demon’s presence--a strange sense of familiarity and warmth that he usually only felt around his mother or long-time friends. Many others had commented on how easily Byleth had settled into their group here--how it felt as though she had always been there to begin with. He had since given up on trying to explain it, and merely accepted it as it was.

“Indeed.” A weighty pause stretched between them for a few moments. “Are you worried about Bernadetta?” she asked suddenly.

“...Is it that obvious? Or are you just clairvoyant?” It wouldn’t surprise him if she really was. There were a lot of things about Byleth that seemed supernatural.

“It is a logical conclusion, wouldn’t you agree? Tomorrow, we will likely face Bernadetta’s father in combat. We may have to kill him in order to take Garreg Mach. You are close friends with Bernadetta, and have been standing near her tent for the last ten minutes.”

“You were watching me that whole time?” Yuri asked incredulously.

“No. I passed by here ten minutes ago on my way to speak with Ignatz. I’m just now returning to my own quarters. But if I may, why are you still out here? Did you not come to speak to Bernadetta?”

“...I don’t really know why I came.”

“Hm.” Though her tone was as neutral as ever, Yuri had the sneaking suspicion that she didn’t buy that lie for a second. “Well, if you are open to suggestions, I would advise that you spend some time with her before we march tomorrow morning. Time spent with our allies is precious. We never know which day will be our last. And it would help Bernadetta’s nerves as well. She finds your presence calming.”

“Yeah,” he agreed halfheartedly.

“Yuri,” Byleth’s voice was sharp and firm, as though he was one of the soldiers under her command. “You are allowed to care for her.”

“I....What?!” he sputtered. But Byleth had already turned on her heel and marched away. Insufferable woman. He had half a mind to leave without heeding her advice, just to spite her. But he also knew that Byleth was rarely ever wrong, especially when it came to her fellow commanders. If she thought Bernadetta should see him, then she was probably right. And if she wasn’t, well he could lay the blame squarely on her now, couldn’t he?

Not really. But the thought had bolstered his courage just enough to enable him to cross the distance between himself and Bernadetta’s camp and loudly clear his throat. A high-pitched yelp issued from within the tent--the usual response. “Bernadetta? It’s me. May I come in?”

“I-I’m not here!” she squeaked, voice muffled on the other side of the flap.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate,” Yuri sighed. “Well, when you get back, can you please let me in? I want to talk to you about something.” Another nervous squeak. “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he amended wearily. “I just want to discuss tomorrow’s battle.” There was a long pause. Then finally, the tent flap drew back just enough to let him inside. Right. Here goes nothing.

Bernadetta let the flap fall back behind him, and stood nervously wringing her skirt as he searched for the right thing to say. It was odd, having to search. He usually knew exactly what to say in any given situation. It was what made him such an exceptional businessman. But for some reason, his carefully constructed facade always seemed to fall to pieces wherever Bernadetta was involved.

“I take it you know we march to retake Garreg Mach in the morning?” he began cautiously. Bernadetta’s hands clenched tighter around her skirt, and she nodded without looking at him. “And Count Varley--your father--we’ll probably end up fighting against him.”

“I know all of this Yuri,” she said softly, albeit a touch impatiently.

“...Yeah. I’m stalling,” he admitted. He heaved another sigh and dropped onto a nearby wooden stool, gesturing for her to sit on her cot. “I’ll just cut to the chase then. Are you going to be okay?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Now she was the one who was stalling. But considering he was the instigator here, he decided it was best to indulge her.

“It must be a lot, having to fight on the opposite side of a war from your family. If it was my mother we had to fight tomorrow, I probably would’ve deserted as soon as I caught wind of where we were headed. No amount of ideological differences between us could erase the fact that she’s my mother. And the thought of having to cross blades with her is...” He trailed off, his mind recoiling from the idea in disgust.

“My father is very different from your mother,” Bernadetta replied bitterly, staring at the floor between them. Though he had long known it to be true, there were certain implications in that statement that Yuri didn’t like the sound of. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask for an explanation.

“Then you’re alright?”

“I....N-no,” she admitted. “No, I’m not alright.”

“Do you want to talk about it, then?”

“No!” she yelped, finally looking up at him. Her eyes were wide and teary with fear. “I-I can’t! If I talk about it, then you’ll hate me!”

“What is it with you and thinking I hate you?” Yuri demanded, exasperated. “Don’t you think if I actually hated you, I would’ve killed you all those years ago? Or any of the dozens of times we’ve been on the battlefield together?”

“B-but you will! You’ll definitely hate me if I tell you the truth!”

“I’ve heard far worse things than the truth, I can assure you,” he scoffed.

“He’s horrible!” she burst out. “He’s so horrible, but I don’t want him to die!”

The silence that fell between them felt as heavy as a cart horse.

“...Nope. Still don’t hate you,” Yuri murmured.

There was only a foot or so of distance between them. Slowly, cautiously, he held his hand out to her. Bernadetta let out a wail and grabbed it with both of hers, sniveling furiously. He had learned early on that physical contact seemed to ground her when she was upset like this, and indeed, once she held his hand between her own, the truth came pouring out as fast as she could draw breath.

But Yuri had been wrong about one thing. The truth was worse than any profanity, any insult, any threat that had been hurled at him over the course of his seedy life.

She told him everything. She told him of the harsh words that made up her earliest memories. Of long, hungry nights. Of the stories she wrote in her journal, later thrown into the fire and burned to ash like the “useless drivel” they were. Of endless hours spent alone and terrified in a pitch black room, ears ringing from the deafening silence. And of a very dear friend who was ripped away from her, who she would long believe had died because of her. Because it was never enough, she was never good enough. No matter how hard she tried, she remained useless, unmarriageable, an embarrassment to her family name. Worthless.

Bile rose in his throat as the pieces he had never wanted to admit were missing fell into place. Strange red marks that he had seen on her arms one afternoon while pushing her in the swing. Her small face pressed into his muddy jacket as she wept for an hour straight, yet refused to tell him what was wrong. Her constant and seemingly inexplicable sense of terror. Her paranoia that even her closest friends secretly wished her harm. Her apparent shock and confusion at hearing Yuri commend her father for protecting her from him.

Up until this moment, Yuri had viewed the prospect of Count Varley’s death as a mere pleasure, much like he viewed the prospect of kicking back with a good stiff drink at the end of a long day. Now, though... Now everything inside him demanded, screamed for the man’s execution. Yuri ached to see Count Varley’s blood pooling at his feet, longed to watch the light fade from his eyes, to hear his rattling gasps as he hung limply on the end of Yuri’s blade. If necessary, Yuri could let some of his personal grudges go, even if he did need a pretty damn good reason for doing so. The Savage Mockingbird, however, offered no such quarter to those who had harmed one of his own. Perhaps Bernadetta couldn’t bring herself to hate her father. But Yuri could. In fact, loathing Count Varley was now easier than ever.

Which, he realized, also meant that Bernadetta must be far, far stronger than he had ever thought before.

“...You’re angry,” Bernadetta whimpered, unable to bear his silence any longer. It was only then that Yuri realized he was gripping her hand too tightly, his own hand white-knuckled and shaking. “See, I told you you would hate me!”

“Enough,” he snapped, releasing her. “Bernadetta, you couldn’t make me hate you even if your life depended on it. But I am angry, you got that part right.” She shrank back a bit, eyeing him fearfully. He forced his voice to soften. “Not at you. Never at you.”

“But you should be!” she insisted. “I....He did all those horrible things to me, a-and he nearly killed you....But I don’t want to fight him! I don’t want him to die tomorrow. I never want to see him again for as long as I live, but I don’t....I don’t hate him, Yuri!” She was crying now, not the panicked, high-pitched wails of anxiety, but quiet, broken sobs of confusion. “I sh-should hate him, I should want him dead, b-but I don’t! What’s wrong with me?!”

“I have no idea,” he replied wearily. “...But I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be better if there were more people like you.”

“H-huh?”

“Compassion isn’t a weakness,” he said haltingly. “It’s a strength, one that a lot of people don’t have or even want. And compassion for your enemies, for the people who have hurt you....Well, that’s a very rare gift indeed. If it weren’t, then I imagine we never would have found ourselves in this war to begin with.”

“You think Dimitri is wrong to want revenge?” Bernadetta whispered, as though she was afraid to ask such a thing out loud.

“You...” Bernadetta’s eyes were shining. “...You think I’m valuable?”

“You are a veritable treasure of unrivaled worth, my dear Miss Varley,” he quipped. “Albeit one that could use a bit of polishing.” He reached out and thumbed away a tear track on her cheek. She giggled and took his hand between her own again, giving it a fond squeeze.

“...Thank you, Yuri,” she whispered. “...Maybe this sounds weird but....I’m glad I was born into House Varley. Because if I’d been anybody else, I might not have met you. And....I’m really happy that I did.”

Yuri had always thought the phrase “heart-melting” was ridiculous. But now, he could think of no other way to describe the wave of warmth that flooded over him, accompanied by a bittersweet ache that he hadn’t felt in years. He looked away and cleared his throat loudly, though he did not try to draw his hand back.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Guess I sort of feel the same way.”

“...Yuri?”

“Hm?”

“During the battle....Can I stay by you? I don’t really know what I’ll have to do tomorrow, but whatever it is, I think it’ll be easier if you’re there with me.”

Ordinarily, this would be the part where he would roll his eyes, heave an exaggerated sigh, and say something to the effect of, Well, I suppose I can’t stop you if that’s what you want. But he had discovered (or rather, rediscovered) over the course of this conversation that being a little vulnerable with Bernadetta....really wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was downright pleasant. So instead, he simply smiled and squeezed her hand back.

“Sure thing, love.”

Thanks for reading! ✨

#fire emblem #fire emblem warriors: three hopes #few:3h #bernadetta von varley #yuri leclerc #yuridetta #fanfic

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strwberriehore · 10 days

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Btw.. don’t hurt Candace!!! I do love and care about her and she already had her face beaten by a grown man and you all already know it will hurt me if she dies

She technically never hurt me physically, sexually or even verbally…

I’m just broken over being abandoned as a child…I kinda feel like a baby that was left at the fire department, also why did she give me to them in the first place and then refuse to take me back? I remember Holly tried to give me back to Candace when I was young and I was excited about that but Candace and Jim said no…I begged Candace to let me be with her as a kid, idk why they wouldn’t, I think one reason is because she was raising someone else’s kids which is creepy? The evil twins

it’s Holly and terry that are the true evil though

I don’t think Candace knew what would happen but I feel like she had to of known something was wrong with Holly and terry ??

what if Holly and terry weren’t evil then maybe I wouldn’t be upset at Candace for giving me to them?? Is that why my siblings are “fine” … I genuinely believe they’d be better if they didn’t grow up with a different family though… like that’s not healthy to grow up with “siblings” and “parents” that aren’t really that..

Since I’m fucking Kamala Harris it’s illegal to be a surrogate because it’s human trafficking

Especially “I’ll give you money to have/raise my child”

That makes it even worse…

You’re creating and selling humans like fucking cars

How is that not evil

You’re never helping a couple that can’t conceive…you’re just traumatizing and torturing a child

There is no “good” or “help” in human trafficking

“Hey Tara I was adopted and my life has been great so far!”

So you’re the exception not the rule…

That’s like winning the lottery and telling everyone to do it because they could win…99.99% of people won’t have the same positive experience you did

More often than not you hear abusive horror stories about foster care and how most people in it are traumatized

You never hear people talk about how great foster care is and how it needs more kids

My heart breaks knowing my PTSD will be triggered when I have kids because it’ll remind me of my own childhood , especially when they start asking about their grandparents, I’ll have to explain this weird surrogate/adoption/human trafficking the family does…🤢🤮and how it creates abuse and is evil

I feel like Everything bad that happened to me only happens to people no one cares about, I even remember someone saying it’s because I’m always alone but I don’t see any other option and that statement falls in line with no one caring about me

You all watched people hurt me but NEVER stepped in the stop it… no one showed up at allys house to save me, you knew I was in her house and didn’t think to come by to get me, you’d rather watch me get raped than help me!! no one made sure my food and water was clean, no one stopped terry, no one showed up to my hair appointment to watch the hairdresser… did you think it would be funny to watch me die? I remember ONCE several years ago I was getting my hair done and rev showed up to stop them… I think the reason he did that is because the hair appointment lasted almost 3 hours, but the last hairdresser last made the appointments really fast like 30 minutes, but if you had the hacking you knew exactly when I would be there because I always made my appointments a month in advance so there’s no excuse…you ALL failed me. Everyone that says they care about me FAILED ME ! You all let me down and allowed others to torture and kill me, several times!!! Not even just once! What the fuck!!! Don’t allow people to hurt me fuck!! Why do I have to BEG for that?? Safety is a luxury I could never afford

When I think of my childhood I can’t picture a place where I could be safe, every home I was in had a person in it or nearby that would hurt me , I was in 5 different homes and after realizing I wasn’t safe anywhere I gave up, safest place I could think was Candace’s home but poisoners were close by

Everyone else in the family had parents and was protected, I feel like the only one that grew up with nothing and it leaves this emptiness in me that hurts , like being dehydrated or hungry, you need something really bad so you can feel normal and you feel depleted/weak, like you’re missing something but you’ll never get it

One thing that makes this hard is that I feel like I was lied to my whole life about everything, who my siblings and mom was , I feel betrayed and that’s also why I’m so emotional about this

When i thought Candace was my aunt instead of my mom and had a stroke I wasn’t upset because that meant she had no role in my suffering, but to find out as an adult the stroke was fake and that I have siblings and she’s my mom

#human trafficking

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hiremaid-verifiedhelpers · 7 months

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The Power of Gratitude

Notice for the Women's day celebrations in my society read: “Nominate a woman who inspires you. We will have a lucky draw to choose the winner for a gift hamper.”

I asked my 16-year-old daughter whom to nominate. “Nominate Rehana Aunty!” she suggested. I was surprised because Rehana is our domestic help. But, the reason she gave was simple, yet I am sure not thought of by most of us:

Rehana is a working mother, with 4 kids. The younger one is about 8 and the eldest 17. All of them go to school. Her husband has taken another wife leaving all 4 kids to her.

Rehana lives in an 8 by 8 feet room, with her kids. The toilet is a shared one at a distance. Before coming to “work” she makes lunch for her kids, cleans the house, gets the kids started on their day, and then walks about 3 kms to our home. Still, she is rarely late for work because if she is late we all will get late. It is a trigger effect as you will realize. And, if she is late she might lose her job, which obviously is not an option for her… she is the sole earning member in the family.

After work she goes straight back home, sometimes talking to someone like herself…but only if they are also walking the same way. She cannot afford the luxury to sit and talk to anyone. There is a lot of work still waiting for her at home so, no networking, socializing, or party, or “me time” for her, ever. Still, she is always smiling and laughing, and proactively doing all odd jobs that we request her to do. And, often we have seen that if she hears azan at a distance while working she will cover her head and thank Allah for all that she has got.

“Isn’t she a real inspiration for all career oriented women, Mom?”

asked my young one, who is on way to being a working woman herself in a few years, as she prepares herself to be an engineer. And, I thought how right she was. We, with all our luxuries, and access to helpers like Rehana, still get grumpy and weighed down by our responsibilities. We continue to demand some distressing, some me time, some free time, some entertainment and what not. In the process we often make everyone around us feel guilty for burdening us with work.

I silently vowed to try and live life with more gratitude. After all, I have a lot more going for me than Rehana has! And I also sent a prayer up for Rehana who has unknowingly instilled an attitude of satisfaction and tolerance in my daughter. Whether or not Rehana wins the lucky draw, she surely deserves a lucky hamper from me on this women's day. We at Helper4U make sure that we respect every househelp and the jobseekers that get registered with us. If you know any jobseeker who is searching for a job please get him/her registered or get the app downloaded on their phones. If you are searching for a maid near your home or in any city, or a cook, driver, or caregiver, you can hire a helper at helper4u at cost-effective rates and get free verification.

#gratitude #relationship #helper near me #maidagency #maid in mumbai #life #verification #helpers #hire #life lessons #hope

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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soul reapers to get paid and their salaries are even quite high! if i remember correctly, lieutenants make around $7k while a captain’s salary is almost triple(nearly $19k)

(cont) that is if my conversion was right, in a JET interview kubo said captains make 2million yen, lieutenants - 700 000yen and an unseated officer - 200 000yen. but then again, i think the living cost in ss is much higher, i remember matsumoto mentioning that clothes in the living world are much cheaper

I have to say this is one of the liveliest discussions on Bleach meta that I have ever participated in on this website. I feel like I can definitively report that is is both fanon consensus and supported by the creator himself that Soul Reapers do, in fact, get paid. For the record, my husband, who started this, conceded days ago and I am sure has not thought about it since.

In any case-- I was very surprised by these numbers, and at first I thought that maybe they were in kan, the fictional currency used in Soul Society, rather than yen. I mean, $19k/year is a terrible salary (for those of you who are not American it is roughly minimum wage). I attempted to figure out the conversion rate between kan and yen once, and at the time, came to the conclusion that kan were worth somewhat more than yen, but I no longer have my scratch pad, so I cannot show my work. Looking at it again, they seem pretty close.

Then, just to get an idea, I googled the salary of a four-star general in the American military, which I thought should be a rough equivalent, and the article I found reported all its numbers in monthly salaries, which I am not used to seeing, but maybe they are more common in other countries. In any case, according to the article I found, the highest salary you can make in the US military is $15,800/month ($189,600/year), which is pretty close to what a Gotei captain makes. I realize that is a lot of money on an absolute scale, but that actually seemed shockingly low to me, in the sense that there have only ever been 246 four-star generals in the history of the U.S., but this is the sort of salary that, say, a C-suite executive might make. A president of even a public university can make 2-5 times this. Now, a career in the military comes with a lot of other perks-- free room and board, free healthcare, etc, but I think this is going to make a much bigger difference to the people in the lower ranks.

The more I thought about it, I do think this tracks, though. Gotei captains are immeasurably valuable and basically impossible to replace. One of the more chilling moments leading up to the Winter War was the part where Hitsugaya is basically like “we don’t know how many Arrancar Aizen has, but if it’s more than 10, we’re screwed” and then it cuts to Hueco Mundo, and Aizen is just surrounded by guys. So, yeah, it honestly makes perfect sense to me that captains are paid a “good living” but it’s insulting compared to the wealth of the nobles that live around them. I don’t usually have a lot of nice things to say about Byakuya, but I do want to emphasize that this has to be chump change for him. This guy definitely works out of a sense of duty, he is not in it for the Benjamins.

The vice-captain salary (~$84k/yr) comes closest to an O-4, which corresponds to a major or a lieutenant colonel, and usually entails about 10 years of service. I guess years count for less when you’re immortal, so I guess that works out. One thing that doesn’t fit is that in another interview, Kubo states that Renji’s sunglasses cost half a year’s salary, but their price is listed in the Bleach Bootleg as 84,700 kan. If a kan is roughly equal to a yen, this is wildly off. I will get back to this later. In WDKALY, there was some mention of vice-captains and captains being given “mansions” to live in (if they chose to). I absolutely cannot accept this fact as canon. I can’t. I mean, there are numerous omake about Hisagi trying to score free food out of Omaeda, yet this man lives in a mansion? And do not tell me he (or Matsumoto or Iba) would pass up living in a mansion if they had the option, even if the commute were an absolute nightmare. Maybe he can’t afford the cost of utilities and furnishings. I don’t know. Please, someone write me a sitcom of Hisagi and Kira living in giant mansions next door to each other, but it’s just like the Bluths living in the sample house in Arrested Development. [Aside: Renji would take the mansion, but he would turn it into an indoor soccer field and continue to sleep in the barracks search your heart you know it’s true]

Back on topic! The unseated officer salary of 200k yen/mo works out to an E-3, which is what an enlisted service member makes after a year. Everyone in the Gotei is considered an officer, and unseating people are awful, so, once again, this seems fine. Well, it seems shitty, tbh, but consistently shitty.

To really answer the question of “is this shitty?” though, we need to consider buying power. Earlier, I mentioned that Gotei service includes free room and board, and that alone is equivalent to a lifetime of wealth for someone from the lower Rukon. I mentioned earlier that I once tried to calculate the exchange rate between kan and yen using a variety of prices for various items. I wish I had kept better notes, because my main takeaway was that prices for things were not very consistent. A copy of the Seireitei Bulletin is 380 kan. Using a straight kan to yen to dollar conversion, that’s $2.80 (I am using 100 yen = $1 because it’s close enough, in case anyone was wondering). Sexy photo books of the captains cost ~$25. The budget of the Shinigami Women’s Association is $2500/year, and the Men’s is $900/year, which is roughly the cost of one pair of sunglasses. I think it must have been the sunglasses that threw me, because I kept trying to peg the cost of a pair of sunglasses to a half year’s salary. The club budgets are just honestly confusing because I have no idea what a calligraphy club budget should look like. It seemed... fine... that a club budget should be equivalent to half a year’s salary? To be honest, I think a kan should be roughly equal to a yen and the sunglasses are just priced too low. (Not a statement I ever thought I would be making).

The comment about clothes being cheaper in the World of the Living makes a lot of sense! Cloth in Soul Society is probably hand-dyed, rather than mass printed, and sewed by hand, rather than by machine. On the other hand, if you wanted goods made in traditional ways, it would be a lot cheaper to get in Soul Society. A chusen-dyed kimono is a luxury good in 2021, because you have to option to order a cheap t-shirt and sweatpants from Amazon. Everyone wears hand-made kimono in Soul Society because that’s what there is, so the price is going to be relatively lower. I do think that cost-of-living jumps sharply inside the walls of the Seireitei, and that it’s very common to do your shopping in the upper districts of Rukongai, where there are lot of highly skilled artisans making goods for the city-dwelling market. I figure that one of the few opportunities for upward mobility, aside from selling your soul to the military is to make enough money to buy your way inside the gates (either through overpriced business licenses, getting a noble patron, or by arranging a marriage to someone who already lives inside)

That being said, I have thought a lot about importing items from the WotL--shinigami usually travel through senkaimon, which do not allow for matter conversion, so they wouldn’t normally be able to bring anything with them. I imagine that it’s sort of a perk of the job that when you go on a mission where you have to go through a matter converter (which would include any time you are bringing a gigai over) you could smuggle back whatever you can fit in your kosode. It’s very strange which technology is adapted from the World of the Living (washing machines, treadmills, urinals) and what isn’t (coffee). In fanfic, it’s common to see shinigami wearing Living World clothing in their off-hours, but I don’t think that’s supported by canon or filler in any way. For my own fanfiction, because it’s fun and world-buildy, I like to pretend that Ichigo is a very popular figure after the Winter War and that World of the Living fashion, music, etc becomes popular, starting during the two-year timeskip, particularly among the younger denizens of the Seireitei, and that there are special bars and such that specialize in that kind of thing. Shinigami who have done extensive stints in the Living World are considered cool for their knowledge of such esoteric subjects as “rice cookers.”

I am done now! I swear! Thank you, everyone for reading all the way down to the bottom of possibly the nerdiest and most boring post I have ever made on this website! (wait, no, I just remembered the one on senkaimon transfer protocols. Second most boring.)

#soul society #bleach worldbuilding #weirdly enough i have just been talking about a number of these topics in my latest chapters of a little in love #i took exactly (1) economics class and it made me a monster

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brynandchristopher · 4 years

Text

The (temporary) end of an era

Well, it’s certainly been a while since we last wrote. We apologize for the delay, we’ve been busy transitioning from New Zealand life to Australia in the last month or so, and then from Australia back to our homes in the last few days, and just haven’t gotten around to writing. But now we’re back! First and foremost, Chris and I are safe, happy, and healthy. It is a crazy time that we are living in right now, but so far we have remained physically unaffected by coronavirus and are keeping our fingers crossed that it remains that way. We are in good health and taking all of the necessary precautions to stay safe in this time of chaos and uncertainty.

In our last post, we had just bid Madeline farewell and were beginning the process of selling our van, Sweetie, in Christchurch. We gave ourselves ~2 weeks before departing to sell the van in hopes that would give us enough time to meet with prospective buyers and try to make some of our money back before taking off for Australia. In New Zealand, there is a bit of a boom and bust cycle in regards to van prices due to the major influx of backpackers at the beginning of the summer and mass exodus at the end of summer. Additionally, most backpackers take a similar route to the one we took - flying into Auckland, exploring the north island, heading down south, flying out of Christchurch - resulting in a huge supply of backpacker vans in Christchurch and not very much demand. We were aware of this cycle going into our trip and knew we wouldn’t get a full return on what we spent, but we were hopeful we could get at least half of our money back to put towards our next van in Australia. Our first few van showings were slightly disheartening. We received significant interest via buy/sell facebook pages and other websites where we posted ads, but when we met in person for test drives and viewings everyone seemed very nit-picky about small things that hadn’t mattered much to us. We soon realized that backpackers looking at vans at the end of the summer could afford to be selective because of how many vans were available to them at a low cost. We didn’t let them get us down though, and after 4 or 5 days of showings we met an Israeli couple around our age that was interested in buying Sweetie. Chris negotiated with them (definitely not my forté, Chris is the master haggler between the two of us) and we were able to get a little more than half of what we had spent. We spent a day driving around with them for a test drive, mechanical inspection, and eventually a transfer of ownership, and by that evening it was time for us to part with our beloved Sweetie. She was a real trooper and everything we could have asked for for our very first car, we felt lucky to have had no car problems for the whole 3 months (which cannot be said for many secondhand backpacker campervans). We were sad to see her go but happy to be leaving her in good hands for her next adventure :)

It was a relief to sell the van in the first few days of our arrival to Christchurch, but we soon realized we had a lot of time on our hands for the next 10 days without a vehicle to go anywhere beyond the city. We stayed in a hostel in central Christchurch for 3 nights and spent a few days exploring the sights of the city. We walked through the botanical gardens, visited the local museum, explored the shops, and hung out around the hostel. One day we went to a climbing gym and spent a few hours bouldering, a hobby that both Chris and I had missed since our travels began. Once our time in the hostel was up, Chris’ dad, John, helped us out with some points so we could stay at the Double Tree Inn for 2 nights. After living in a minivan for 3 months and then staying in a crowded hostel for a few nights, the Double Tree felt luxurious and plush. We were very grateful to be staying in a nice place for a few days and have a bit of a break from the backpacker lifestyle - thanks Wan :)

For the remainder of our time in Christchurch, we booked a cheap AirBnb on the outskirts of the city. We were beginning to get a bit restless - while Christchurch is nice enough, New Zealand isn’t exactly famous for it’s beautiful cities and we felt like we had explored most of what it had to offer. I spent most of our days there starting to look online for vans and jobs in Australia, and Chris played a lot of Pokémon ;) I had applied to a few live-in nanny jobs in Queensland, where we were hoping to post up for a few months to save up some money, and I heard back from the one Chris and I were most excited about. The family of 5 lived on 7 acres in a sleepy beach town called Kinka Beach about 7 hours north of Brisbane, and it seemed like we would be a good fit for what they were looking for. After a few emails back and forth, the mother, Olivia, and I spoke on the phone for a while to sort out the details and get to know each other a bit. Originally Olivia and her husband, Darren, weren’t looking to have a couple, but when we told them of Chris’ handyman/DIY construction experience, they figured they could use his help on some projects around their property in addition to my help with their 3 kids. We agreed on an arrival date in early April and planned to stay in touch until then. Before we knew it, our last night in New Zealand was upon us and we decided to celebrate by going out to dinner at a Chinese vegetarian restaurant a few blocks away from our AirBnb. We ordered a few different dishes, which were fantastic, and recounted all of the unforgettable memories we made in the beautiful country of New Zealand. It was a sad goodbye but we were looking forward to our next adventure in Australia.

At this point, the Coronavirus panic was beginning to ramp up. We were only experiencing it secondhand, as it hadn’t become a problem at all in New Zealand yet, so it didn't really feel real until we got to the airport. There were increased screening and security measures when we arrived to Australia, questions about where we’d travelled recently and separate lines for people who had been to China, Italy, Iran, or Dubai. This, of course, was only the tip of the iceberg and our nervousness about the situation began to increase. My parents were supposed to be visiting about a week after we arrived to Sydney and we weren’t sure what would happen in that time. Fortunately, we had a safe and isolated place to stay in Sydney for the week - my Dad’s childhood friend, Rob, lives in a beautiful downtown apartment in the heart of Sydney and was gracious enough to host us. For the first few days we got to know Rob over dinners and wine and he gave us advice for places to check out around the city. We walked through the beautiful botanic gardens, along the harbor to see the Sydney Opera House, and spent a day soaking up the sun at Bondi Beach. We were primarily in Sydney to start our hunt for a new van, so we met up with a few different sellers that we’d been in contact with to test drive and scope out our options. Because we would be living in this van for a longer period of time, we were hoping to upgrade on a few things that Sweetie didn’t have - a bit more space in the back, a high roof, and an indoor kitchen. We liked 1 or 2 of the ones we viewed in the first few days, but nothing was really checking all of the boxes that we were hoping for.

Three or four days into our time in Sydney, it became very apparent how seriously the world was reacting to Coronavirus. Everyone was being sent home from work, businesses were closing, and fewer and fewer people were out on the street each day. Before we knew it, travel restrictions and bans were being put in place by many countries, Australia being one of them. With very heavy hearts, my parents had to cancel their trip to come and visit us for 2+ weeks. We were all pretty heartbroken about the situation, all of us had been looking forward to the trip for months. I was craving a taste of comfort and home that I knew would come from spending time with my parents, and I knew how excited they were to take a much deserved break from work and go on a big adventure across the world. I soon found out that my sister, Maggie, was also going to surprise me and come along with them (I had suspicions all along (; ), which only made it harder. It was a major disappointment on both ends, but it was out of our hands.

Feeling a bit deflated and sad, we continued our search for the right van. When we came across a van that was everything we were looking for but a little bit out of our price range, we figured we might as well take a look at it and see if we could negotiate our way down. We met with the owner of the van, a Spanish guy named Edgar, who was trying to get out of the country as soon as possible because his visa was about to expire. The van was perfect, we fell in love with it immediately. It had a solar panel on top that powered a refrigerator, water pump for running water, power outlets, and cabin lights, had a whole indoor kitchen set up, and had a semi-high roof. It was in great mechanical condition and had very low kilometers compared to the majority of the vans we had looked at. We spent a day or two going back and forth with Edgar about the price and eventually we came to an agreement- we were now the proud owners of a 1999 fully outfitted Toyota Hiace Campervan! We named him Rollo, a viking name that we felt was well-suited for our van.

A day or two later, Chris and I went through a few hours of panic about coronavirus and whether or not we needed to make the difficult decision to end our trip and go home. It was poor timing to go through this decision making process, as we had just invested the majority of our money into a new home on wheels, but it was an option we knew we had to seriously consider before carrying on with our travel plans. We went through many different hypothetical scenarios, weighed all of the pros and cons, talked it out with friends and family, and eventually came to the decision that we would wait it out in Australia for now. The situation worldwide was changing every day and the uncertainty was scary - our first instinct is to be around our family in a time like this - but we knew we had a safe place to hunker down for a few months with our nannying family in Kinka Beach. With new border closures and travel restrictions being put into place, we decided we would leave Sydney and head straight for Kinka Beach without making many stops in between. Before we left, Rob recommended a hike close by in Royal National Park to the beautiful Figure Eight Pools. These series of pools were formed along a rock shelf of the coastline from centuries of pounding waves and receding tides. When the tide is low enough, you can walk out on the shelf and take a dip in the crystal clear waters of the Figure Eight Pools - take a look at our pictures and you’ll understand the name. We had never seen anything like them before, it was a really cool adventure. After swimming in the pools we spent a few hours on the beach before making our way back to Sydney. We had our last dinner with Rob and he was nice enough to send us off with a basket full of van-life essentials - we were beyond grateful for his hospitality and generosity over the course of the week and hoped to visit if we’re back in Sydney again :)

Chris and I hit the road and began our 3-day drive up the east coast of Australia. On our first day, we stopped in to visit with my great-Aunt, Nancy, who lives in Newcastle a few hours north of Sydney. I had never met Nancy, only heard about her secondhand from my Grandad and the rest of my Dad’s family, so I was very excited to finally get to meet her. Chris and I spent an hour or so with Nancy, chatting over tea and walking through her magnificent backyard garden. It was wonderful to meet her and exchange stories of our travels, I hope to stay in touch in the future. After saying our goodbyes, we continued our drive north. We felt a bit melancholy as we passed exit after exit for all of the places we were supposed to be staying at with my parents, but we were doing our best to stay positive. We knew how lucky we were to have found a beautiful new van and to have a safe place to go to in a time of crisis. We stayed overnight in free rest-stop campsites along the way and made it to Kinka Beach after 3 long days in the van.

Olivia and Darren, the parents, greeted us and we spent an hour or so getting to know each other and taking a look around their property. They own a coral selling business where they harvest small amounts of coral from the Great Barrier Reef and then propagate it in tanks on land to sell to aquarium owners, pet stores, etc. Their property had an old aquarium on it that they were going to convert into a coral-growing space because it already had the tanks and requirements needed for their business. The aquarium was accompanied by a giant concrete whale that you could go inside - it was as big as a house and definitely a trademark of the Kinka Beach area. It was a funky property but we liked it, and we got along well with Olivia and Darren. Because we had been in Sydney and traveling around, they asked us to keep our distance and self-isolate in our van on their property for the first week that we were there, which we of course were fine with. We spent the week going to the beach, stocking up on food essentials, and relaxing in the van. As much as we tried to keep our distance, the older two of the children were very curious about the two new van-dwellers on their property. They would sneak away from their parents to come and say hello, and took a liking to us right away. Our new names were ‘Nanny Chris’ and ‘Nanny Bryn’, it was very cute :) The week of isolation passed and Chris and I moved in to the family’s house. The family also had a separate unit on their property on the second floor of the aquarium that Chris and I were planning on moving into but it had some damage from a cyclone a few years back. Fixing up the separate unit was going to be Chris’ project for the few months that we were there, and he dove right in once we got settled. For the first few days I was with Olivia and the three kids - Henderson or ‘Hendo’ (4), Israel (2), and Kingsley (12 weeks) - playing in their blow up pool, jumping on the trampoline, reading books, and watching movies. The kids were adorable and (mostly) well-behaved, and Olivia and I got along great. I spent my birthday with the kids, and Chris and I snuck away during their nap to have a pizza beach picnic where he gave me a guitar!! I had expressed the desire to start learning throughout our travels and he remembered, it was a very sweet and thoughtful gift <3 The family surprised me with birthday cake and songs later that night and made my birthday feel special, even if it was under somewhat different circumstances than usual.

A day or two into the job, the same anxieties that Chris and I were having in Sydney began to creep back up on us. Coronavirus continued to ramp up, and our fears of being far from home grew with it. We worried about being stuck in Australia if they cancelled all outgoing flights and not being able to return to the US if family or friends got sick, or what would happen if we needed to be hospitalized abroad. Mostly we just felt scared, anxious, and homesick being in an unfamiliar place during a time of such panic and crisis, and it was seriously impacting our ability to enjoy our time there. The family had also asked that Chris didn’t get a job in the community, as they had young children and a baby, and wanted to limit potential exposure to the virus. This would mean we wouldn’t be making very much money, and we knew we needed to resupply our funds if we wanted to continue to travel. At the same time, we were scared by the prospect of traveling if we did decide to go home, which would mean exposing ourselves to airplanes and airports. It was risky and we didn’t want to bring the sickness home to anyone or put others at risk. After a few wrenching days of going back and forth about it and talking it through with Olivia and Darren, Chris and I made the difficult decision to sell the van and go home. It was a heartbreaking goodbye - the kids had begun to get attached to us, and us to them - but after lots of hugs we bid farewell and headed south towards Brisbane to sell Rollo. We stayed at a campground and arranged a few meetings with interested buyers, and after a day we made a quick sale to a Dutch backpacker couple. The next morning we were on a flight to Sydney, where we spent the night, and then carried on to San Francisco the following day. After the 13+ hour flight to California, Chris and I parted ways - I flew home to Boston and Chris to Salt Lake City. It feels strange and sad to be apart after spending literally every hour of the day together for 5+ months straight, but fortunately (and unfortunately, I suppose) we have quite a bit of experience with long-distance. We know it’s not forever and we are staying positive and looking forward to spending time with our families after being away for so long. Both of us are currently self-quarantining in our homes - I’m up in the creative room in my house for the next two weeks and Chris is confined to the basement at his house. We’re both feeling very lucky that our houses are set up in a way that allows us to be physically separate from our families while still being able to visit from across the yard or between rooms. We know not everyone being affected by coronavirus is afforded that same luxury, so we are counting our blessings and keeping ourselves busy for the next 14 days.

Unfortunately this will likely be our last blog post for a while. But don’t worry!! Our travels will continue once we’ve saved up a little more money, and we will be sure to post here when that time comes :) We are relieved and happy to be home and are looking forward to better and brighter days. Thank you to all of our friends and family who have kept up with our travels in the past 5 months, it has been filled with more joy, wonder, and adventure than we could have ever imagined. We feel so lucky to have people in our lives that we can share those experiences with, so thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Stay home, stay safe, and stay healthy!!

With love,

Bryn and Christopher

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odderancyart · 6 years

Text

It Started With a Song

Mobfell with Swapfell thrown in, Blackcherry

Amazing drawing of flapper Razz here

AO3

It's the 1920's. Alcohol is illegal, skirts are shorter, and this particular town is ruled by the Gaster Family mafia. In a speakeasy owned by them, two brothers makes a living performing.

Wordcount: 5002

The piano began to play, and Razz took his place on the scene. The short flapper dress he was wearing swept around his legs, and he could feel members of the audience appraising him. They always did. It was practically a part of the job. Smiling at everyone beneath the stage, he grabbed the microphone, and when Slim hit the right tones on the piano, he began to sing.

The soft tunes carried out over the crowded room, climbing and dipping. The microphone turned warm in his hand. As the song floated around the bar, he studied today’s crowd. The usual rogues, mobsters in fancy suits, their spouses- His eyes widened, breath hitching. Slim threw him a concerned glance from beneath the stage as his voice trembled. Razz shook himself, forcing his voice back to normal. Forced the tunes to remain steady and beautiful. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but stare at the three skeletons sitting by the biggest table, just beneath the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

The Boss. The owner of this speakeasy, and the leader of the city’s most powerful mafia. Ruby red eyes glowed in the dark beneath the stage, staring at Razz. Their owner was wearing an amused smirk, as though he knew why he had stuttered. By his right, a skeleton his height sat, this one with orange eyelights, and by his left, a shorter, sturdier third skeleton was. This one didn’t sit as straight as the other two, instead leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. Didn’t make him any less intimidating, however. His eyes were bright crimson, and they, too, were settled on Razz from beneath a black hat brim. Staring straight into his own eyes, in fact. A huge grin covered his face, a single gold tooth shining in the faint light of the bar.

Swallowing, Razz broke the eye contact. He was trembling from adrenaline. This was the chance of a lifetime. The only chance he’d ever get, probably, to get out of the hell that was being a hired performed in a city like this. The song ended, and he inhaled deeply. If he impressed them, perhaps he could expect a permanent employment. Even a place like this was better than nothing. Subtly, he signed to Slim which song to play. When lively tones began to flow from the piano, he knew the other had understood.

He gripped the microphone harder, and sang.

Razz recoiled in shock, bumping into the wall behind him. He stared at the mobster who stood leaning against the same wall, grinning widely at him. He was one of the best dressed guests in the speakeasy, witnessing of his wealth. A completely black suit with a blood red vest, and a black hat with a hat band in the same red. In his left hand, he was holding a fat cigar. After a moment, Razz managed to collect himself. He couldn’t resist glaring at the other, but didn’t speak. Didn’t want to risk getting thrown out for being rude to the Boss’ brother.

“Hiya, dollface,” Red drawled, apparently not realizing he was too close for comfort. Or not caring. The latter was likelier, from Razz’s experience. “Loved yer singin’. Ya’ve got a good voice.”

Inhaling deeply, Razz studied the other closely. What did he want? If it was anything unsavoury, he’d get a fist to the face, no matter the consequences. Despite his suspicions, he smiled pleasantly and replied, “Thank you, sir.”

Nevertheless, he crossed his arms over his chest, grateful for the false sense of protection it gave. Waiting was awful, when the other didn’t speak for a moment. He would’ve preferred just to ask what the hell the other wanted, but that’d be stupid. Only as a last way out could he afford being less than pleasant. Going back to cleaning strangers’ houses for a few pennies an hour wasn’t an option. Absolutely not.

Razz threw a glance to the side. Despite his ability to throw a punch, he was acutely aware that he was in a very vulnerable position. Being a performer at these places wasn’t a safe occupation, not at all. No one looked this way. Not even his brother, who was preoccupied at the piano. Swing music drowned out most sounds. Wait. There was one pair of eyes on them. Gleaming red ones. The Boss. But he only seemed amused. There was no protection to get from there, of course. A shiver travelled up his spine.

“Calm down, darlin’,” Red suddenly said, startling him. He was smirking. “’M not gonna hurt ya. Promise. Just wanted to know yer name.”

Blinking, Razz told him it. He didn’t trust him for a second, but there was little harm in that, right? Anyway, if Red wanted to know it, he’d find out. He blinked again, staring after him, as Red grinned, tipped his hat politely, and left without another word.

Well. That was weird. After a few seconds, Razz shook himself and returned backstage. Whatever. Time to get his pay, wait for his brother to finish playing, and then get the hell out of here.

Holding his breath, Razz splashed water over his face before drying it off with a brown towel. The towel turned almost black from all the makeup he was wearing. Stars. He hated all those layers of it. It made his face feel smudgy. Nonetheless, it was what the audience wanted. And what they wanted, they got. It paid the bills, after all. The fabric was rough against his cheeks as he rubbed. In his lap, a second towel lied to catch any stray liquid or powder before it stained his robe.

Once he was done, he glanced into the dirty mirror in front of him. Like all performer’s dressing rooms in this sort of places, this one was the absolute minimum. The almost yellow mirror, a small makeup-table, a wardrobe. Nothing luxurious, nothing that was actually clean. Stained wallpapers, water-damaged ceiling. It had been a disappointment the first time he’d been in one. Nowadays, it was just how it was.

It knocked at the door, and after looking himself over, he stood. Sweeping the robe tighter closed, Razz went to open the door. His right hand went to the small switch-blade in his pocket. A small safety measure. A necessary one, at that. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to assault him. Emphasis on tried. No one ever expected a singer to be able to fight. Slipping the door open, just a little, Razz studied the person behind it. He sighed in relief, opening it entirely, he allowed Grillby to come in. The bartender was responsible for the speakeasy, and had this far been more gentlemanly than Razz expected. He nodded politely at his employer.

However, Grillby only took a single step inside, and handed him a letter. Humming in surprise, Razz opened it using a claw as letter knife. He raised an eyebrow at the elegant script as he began to read.

Best Mr. Serif, it said. It is obvious that you are an excellent singer and performer. Therefore, I would like to offer you employment in this very establishment. Permanently, of course. You may negotiate your pay with Grillby, but I assure you, you will find it satisfying. If you accept, your pianist will find himself employed as well. It was signed, Fell Gaster.

Unable to help himself, Razz slapped a hand before his mouth. He stared at Grillby, wide-eyed. The elemental wasn’t helpful, and only smirked in reply. The Boss himself had written him a letter of employment. The head of the Gaster family. When he’d hoped for employment if he impressed him, this was far beyond what he’d deemed realistic.

“So? Do you accept the offer?” Grillby asked him, grinning. His voice was amused, and this was only a formality. The elemental knew perfectly well that he would – even if he hadn’t hoped for this, only someone with a death wish would deny Fell Gaster anything. Shutting him mouth hard enough for his fangs to clack, Razz nodded.

“Of course, sir.”

“Did you get me employed?” Razz demanded, his arms crossed over his chest. Red twitched, turning around to stare at him. When he realized who it was, he grinned widely. When he cocked an eyebrow, Razz resisted the urge to sigh before adding, “Sir.”

Every night he’d performed, the other had been there. Grinning at him, winking, but never approaching. While Razz had been grateful for that at first, it had quickly become disconcerting. Red wanted something from him. He had no idea what, but there was no way the Boss’ brother had just decided to do this out of the kindness in his soul. Razz doubted he had any.

Red took a swing from his whiskey before smirking down at him. The crowd around them seemed to move away, out of respect or fear Razz wasn’t sure. “Sure did, dollface. Like I said, ya’ve got a good voice, an’ a pretty face. Perfect fer my bro’s lil’ establishment ‘ere. Can’t let ya run ta th’ rivals, can I?.”

Huh. That made a surprising amount of sense. More than Razz had expected. He nodded, and moved to leave. A hand grabbed his wrist, making him twist around in alarm. His soul pounded as he pulled, and Red let go off it with an amused chuckle. “Hey now, dollface. I said I wouldn’ hurt ya, didn I? I jus’ thought ‘t kinda rude ta jus’ leave like tha’.”

Rubbing his clothed wrist, Razz glared at him. That only seemed to make the other’s grin grow. In the corner of his eye, he suddenly found a red spot on the other’s cheek. As he stared at it, Red lifted a hand to the spot, drying it off with a finger. When he held it up, he let out a chuckle. “Well fuck. Thought I’d gotten ‘t all.”

He snapped his fingers, and seconds later one of the servers were by his side. After drying his fingers and cheek of on the server’s towel, he tilted his head as he watched Razz. “What, sweetheart? Scared of by a lil’ blood? Ya won’t survive in thi’ place fer long if tha’s th’ case.”

A flash of anger, and Razz spoke before he could think. “Certainly not, sir. I watched my parents being brutally murdered when I was fifteen. So I am certain I can handle it.”

Red stared at him, eyes wide in shock. Probably unused to someone speaking like that to him. Meanwhile, Razz wanted to die. Fucking hell. He hadn’t told anyone that, and now he just blurted it out to a goddamn Gaster. By the angel what was wrong with him? Much to his shock, Red’s face softened, ever so slightly.

“’M sorry, dollface,” he said, causing Razz to growl. Clenching his fists, he stuffed them into his suit pockets.

“Don’t be. It was ages ago, and not even your family.” He moved to leave, and this time Red didn’t stop him. It was true. It hadn’t been the Gasters. In fact, the family who had done it had been eliminated as the Gasters took power over Ebott City. The one good thing they’d ever done, outside of employing him and his brother. Razz gestured at his black suit. A much cheaper, ill-fitting version of the one Red was wearing. “As you can see, I need to change, and my show starts soon.”

Neither said anything else as he left.

When Razz left the stage, Red was leaning at the wall to his dressing room. He froze, panic making his breath hitch. His switchblade was inside, since the dress didn’t have pockets. He should go wait for his brother- no, Red had seen him. The mobster looked up from the metal orb he’d been throwing between his hands, smiling at him. Slowly, Razz made his way up to him, heels clicking against the wooden floor. Ready to scream, should it be needed.

Much to his relief, however, Red didn’t move to grab him. Not even touch. Or tried to get alone with him. Razz exhaled deeply as he watched him, waiting. In the background, he could still hear the jazz band playing. The other grinned, rubbing his neck. The motion was weirdly awkward, Razz thought. Almost as though he was embarrassed. But that definitely couldn’t be. What reason would Red have to be embarrassed around him?

“Hiya, dollface,” Red greeted, giving Razz a slight déjà vu of their first meeting. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the reason he was there. “Great show, as always.”

“Thank you,” he replied stiffly, still confused. Why on earth was Red here? To be honest, every interaction with the other had been weird. At first, he’d just assumed the other wanted sex, and he still hadn’t ruled it out, but by now he was starting to wonder. Someone like Red would’ve just taken what he wanted, right? It wasn’t like Razz actually could stop him; not in here. Not in a speakeasy belonging to Red’s brother. No matter how much he’d like to think otherwise. He would just be deceiving himself.

“So, Razz,” Red continued, and he couldn’t help but boggle. It was the first time the other had used his name. He didn’t say anything else for a while. Impatient as he was, Razz cleared his throat. If the other wasn’t going to speak, could he go change perhaps? Red seemed to realize he was stalling – or whatever he was doing – and fished up a cigar from his pocket before continuing, “Would ya like ta go on a date wi’ me? Perhaps dinner an’ a movie, or sumthin’.”

Gaping in disbelief, Razz was silent for a moment. Then he let out a laugh of disbelief, slapping his hands for his mouth. Red just stared at him as he chuckled into his hands, chewing on the unlit cigar. The other had stuck his hands into his suit-pockets, and stopped leaning at the wall. He didn’t laugh. Razz blinked, ceasing. “Wait. You’re serious, sir?”

When Red nodded once, he couldn’t help but let out another chuckle, this one from pure disbelief. What the hell was the world coming to? Red was an asshole, sure, but he was a rich asshole. A powerful asshole. Razz… well. His and Slim’s rundown apartment witnessed of where they were in life. He considered the offer. Again, Razz was a douchebag. And it might just be a plan to use him, somehow. But it wasn’t like Red couldn’t do that anywhere. Perhaps he could at least get a nice dinner out of this.

Smirking, he nodded. “I accept.”

“Ye did what?” Slim’s voice was unusually loud. It took a lot to get him to raise his voice. Especially inside their apartment; the walls were thin and the landlady wouldn’t hesitate to throw them out if they were a disturbance. Generally, though, Slim was a soft-spoken individual. Therefore, Razz couldn’t help but huff at his exclamation.

“Accepted a date with Red Gaster, brother,” he repeated, sitting down on the armrest of their couch. He crossed his arms. “Not that you’ve got anything to do with it. That’s my life.”

“Ye’r gonnae be killed, Razz,” Slim nearly yelled. A loud knocking came from the wall, and he lowered his voice when he continued, “A Gaster, bro.”

Razz nodded sharply, and opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, however, it knocked on the door. Exchanging a gaze, they went to open. Together, for you never knew who it’d be. When Slim slid the door open, they were surprised to find a nicely dressed carrier outside. They gave them a distasteful gaze, but asked, “Is there a Razz Serif here?”

“That’s me,” Razz replied slowly, unsure why they were here. Those clothes were much too fine for these parts of the city. Without a word, the carried shoved the package they were holding into his arms and left. They stared after him.

Once he was gone, Razz let out a confused noise. Putting the package on the kitchen table, he carefully opened it. His eyes widened as he pulled out a black fur coat, and then a wine-red maxi flapper dress. In the corner of his mouth, he saw Slim stare at it with open mouth, and he shared the sentiment. What. The hell. A note fell out of the coat when he held it up. Picking it up, he read, Wear this. Red Gaster.

For a moment, he felt offended. How rude to order him around. Yet, when he turned to the dress again, he couldn’t help but smile. It was lovely. Nothing he could ever afford on his own. Smoothing out the fabric, he felt warm. Joy, he realized. That was what this feeling was. Stars, he’d always loved pretty things.

“Fine,” he murmured to himself. “I’ll wear it. But just because it’s beautiful.”

The night of the date arrived. They were going to eat dinner, and then go to the movie theatre, as Red had said. It’d be a restaurant of Red’s choice, of course. Normally Razz would’ve protested, but he realized that if they went to one of his regular places they’d be eating hamburgers at the corner. So this was probably for the best. Once Razz was dressed, however, he realized they hadn’t made up how and where to meet.

Watching himself in the mirror, he knew he couldn’t walk or take the bus to the speakeasy. In these clothes, it’d be an invitation to being robbed – at the very least. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw himself, though. Gorgeous. There was no other word for it. He wore the dress and coat, and a thin layer of makeup. He’d never been this beautiful before. No matter how this evening went, he’d cherish it forever.

Slim stuck in his head through his bedroom door. He looked bewildered, and scared. Razz gave him a concerned gaze, trying to see what was bothering him, but he quietly shook his head and pointed toward their combined kitchen and living room. Huffing, Razz followed him out. He didn’t get far, freezing in the door. In their living room, two well-dressed monsters in suits stood. And neither of them were Red.

Fell and Rus Gaster.

Swallowing, he took a tentative step forward. His heels clicked against the wooden floor. It caused the married couple to immediately turn his way, and Razz forced a polite smile on his face as he curtsied lightly. How else to greet the most powerful monsters in town, he had no idea. An amused chuckle came from the orange-eyed skeleton.

“Don’t worry,” he said. His voice was gentle, and he smiled at Razz. He seemed almost out of place next to the other, pointier skeleton. “I know my husband can be a little intimidating, but we mean no harm.”

“Rus is correct, Mr Serif,” the Boss said, placing a hand upon the other’s, which was resting on his arm. Despite the calming words, Razz’s soul didn’t slow down. It was pounding in his chest, drowning out most other sounds. Except the skeleton’s words, which he heard clear as day. “In fact, we are here to reassure you that if you decide not to pursue a relationship with my brother, there will be no consequences. His previous partners have worried, you see. With all right, I suppose. We have quite the reputation, and we protect our own. However, love is a matter in which we do not search revenge, I assure you.”

As Razz tried to gather his thoughts enough to answer, the Boss seemed to take a closer look on the apartment. A small grimace was on his face, and Razz had the strangest urge to apologize for his home. Even if it wasn’t his fault they lived like here. Rather, it was the mafias. They were the ones who kept the lower classes so poor.

“Your home is… somewhat quaint, Mr Serif,” he eventually continued, and Razz couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. Even if his soul dropped after. Luckily the other didn’t seem to have minded. No, his home wasn’t quaint. It was run-down. But it was what they had, so it’d have to do.

“I appreciate it, Mr- Boss,” he replied, unsure on how to title the other. He wasn’t a part of the Family, after all.

“You may call me Mr Gaster,” the Boss told him, much to his relief. He glanced toward the door, before smiling at his husband. Rus smiled back. He seemed to be glowing. Wait. With the small bulge, and that expression- “We ought to get going, though, we have a rese-“

“Are you pregnant?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Goddammit, Razz. Think before you speak, he scolded himself. The two froze, and he could hear Slim stop breathing behind him. Swallowing, he waited. Would they be angry?

Then, Rus let out a loud laugh, grinning at Razz. He felt his shoulder sag in relief. “I am. You’re the first one to notice. Red has chosen a perceptive partner, for sure. Make good use of that with the asshole.”

“Congratulations?” Razz wished them, still shocked over this entire thing. This wasn’t how he’d expected his evening to go. ¨

The Boss smiled at him, nodding. “Thank you,” he said. “Now, as I was saying, we have a reservation. So I am afraid we must leave, Mr Serif. Thank you for your hospitality. Oh, and I would appreciate if you did not tell Red about our visit.”

Razz could only nod as they left. When the door closed behind them, he had to lean against the wall, breathing heavily. By the Angel. Slim seemed to think the same, sinking to the floor.

Less than twenty minutes, it knocked on the door again. Slim went to open, as Razz doing it in his expensive clothing would be a bad idea. It might give someone ideas. They didn’t want to deal with any more burglars. The last one had stolen half the jewellery he wore while performing, and it had cost a fortune to replace it. When Slim came go get him this time, he smiled already when he left his bedroom. Red was standing in the door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

He was even more handsome than usual. Because he always was, Razz had to admit. Very nearly beautiful, even. His suit was black like always, but he had a crimson shirt and black vest and tie, instead of the inverted scheme as usual. He grinned when he saw Razz, eyes travelling over his body. For once, it didn’t feel predatory, as those gazes often did. It felt like he was watching Razz, not his body.

“Lookin’ good, dollface,” Red said, holding up the bouquet. Lilies. Woah. Razz took them, the scent immediately hitting him. It was lovely. “Yer gorgeous. Knew ya’d look good in tha’ dress.”

Snorting, Razz handed the flowers to his brother. Slim took them, even as he was staring at Red with a mix of suspicion and fear in his eyes. Completely understandable. Even now, Razz himself felt worried over how the evening would go. The Boss had promised no harm would come to him over romance, but there were many ways things could go wrong anyway. Nevertheless, this was his one chance at getting out of his boring, grey life. It couldn’t slip away.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking Red’s arm when it was offered. After waving his brother goodbye, he followed the other outside of the apartment complex. On the road, a slick, black car stood, very out of place. There was a driver in the front seat, who kept glancing around. They were obviously scared. Razz couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. There was reason to be.

He studied the car appreciatively. Beautiful. Allowing Red to assist him, he sat down in the seat. To little surprise, it was black leather. When the car began to drive, he twitched. Stars. He hadn’t been in a car for years.

Red laughed at his reaction. However, when Razz glared at him, he didn’t say anything. Just smirked. They soon entered the nice parts of the city, before stopping outside of a high-end restaurant. While the driver stepped out of the car to open the doors for them, Razz stared. The building was white stone, perhaps marble, with enormous windows. Through them, he could see people dining in dim light.

“Watcha think, sweetheart? Nice enough fer ya?” Red asked as they slid out of the car.

Tearing his eyes away, Razz nonchalantly replied, “It’ll do.”

Apparently the other wasn’t fooled. With a chuckle, he led them inside. The interior was even more impressive than outside; the walls were decorated with paintings, the tables with white tablecloths. On every table, candles stood, and both customers and servers wore clothes which were easy to see had cost a fortune. A server greeted them at the door, bowing lightly.

“Mr Gaster,” they greeted politely. Red grinned, waving lazily at them. If the server thought anything about it, they didn’t show it. They were shown to a table, and as the server helped Red with his chair, Razz simply slid down into his.

“Aw, dollface, ya should’ve waited. Now Daniel ‘ere will think he failed his job,” Red drawled. Razz didn’t even bother answering that.

The food was delicious. Razz dug in eagerly, the salmon almost melting in his mouth. Amazing. The prices had been unreasonably high, but he wasn’t paying, so he didn’t give a fuck. Red was watching him, eyelights strangely soft. Though it was probably amusement. How undignified he looked, Razz honestly didn’t care. This was the best food he’d ever had. Once he stopped to breathe, Red grinned at him.

“What do ya call a soldier who survived mustard gas?” he asked, eyes glimmering.

Razz blinked, tilting his head. “A veteran?”

“Close. A seasoned veteran.”

For a few seconds, Razz just stared at him. Then he processed, slapping his hand for his mouth and bowing his neck to hide his laughter. Snorts escaped through them, so he didn’t manage very well. When he glanced up, Red grinned, triumphant. Still smiling, he attempted to look disapproving. “That’s terrible.”

“But ya liked ‘t, didn’t ya?”

He was silent. Then his smile grew. “Fine. It was funny.”

“Can I ask ya ‘bout yer parents?” Red suddenly said. Razz almost choked on his alcohol-free cider, staring at him. Red didn’t look like he expected him to answer. Rather like it was an honest question, out of curiosity. It was a relief. If the other had demanded an answer, he wouldn’t have a choice about it. They were quiet for a while. Finally, he sighed. It couldn’t hurt, could it?

“When I was fifteen, we lived in Salastown,” he began, staring at the golden cider in his glass. Due to alcohol being illegal nowadays, there was no inebriation which might’ve made this easier. Red nodded, recognizing the district’s name. “We were poor, obviously, since we lived there. And at that time, the area was controlled by the Lindere family. Every month, they would demand rent of outrageous sums, and certain… favours. It came a time when we couldn’t pay, though, so they sent a hitman to our two-room apartment. Me and my brother hid in a wardrobe, but our parents were shot. I saw the entire thing through a gap between the planks.”

“’M sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was years ago. And your family exterminated the Linderes so I don’t care anymore.” Despite his hard words, Razz clenched his hand around the glass’ foot. It creaked, sounding as though it might crack.

“Give me your hat.” Razz held out his hand, staring at Red. The other frowned, but as Razz wiggled his fingers he handed it over. Grinning, Razz put it on his head, fishing out a pocket mirror from his inventory. He held it up, peering at Red over the edge.

“Well? How do I look?” he asked. Red chuckled, but his eyes were bright.

“Pretty fuckin’ good.”

When they left the restaurant, Razz was feeling cheery. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. They chatted the entire way to the movie theatre, and when they reached it, Razz felt excited. Nosferatu was the film being shown tonight, and he’d wanted to go see that for ages. It was apparently terrifying. He loved horror novels, so he imagined he’d like a film as well. He buried his cheeks in the fur coat against the cold night breeze, and smiled at Red.

Red smiled back, suddenly yawning loudly. Razz huffed in amusement as his arm came to embrace him, but leaned into his date’s side. Above them, a few stars twinkled. They were hard to see through the city’s lights, but they were there. Angel, he was tired. Yawning, Razz leaned more into Red’s side. He was oddly warm, and his embrace was soft. He’d just close his eyes a short moment before they reached the movie theatre-

The last thing he heard was soft chuckling, and the last thing he felt was someone gently squeezing his arm. Then everything went black and calm.

When he opened his eyes again, he had to blink against the bright lights. Lifting an arm to protect his eyes, he found that they were outside the theatre. He yawned again, and crimson eyelights peered down at him. He smiled sleepily at Red, who laughed quietly.

“Wake up, dollface,” he said, poking at his arm. “The movie would’ve started now if I hadn’t told ‘em ta wait.”

“Well, I guess there’s good things wi’ datin’ a mobster,” Razz mumbled, slipping back into his accent from tiredness, as they made their way inside. Another laugh was the only reply he got.

#blackcherry #spicyhoney #mobfell #swapfell #underfell #underswap #speakeasy #20's au #mafia #flapper razz #my writing #and a huge thanks to Kyuko for being my beta #because i was too tired to edit #this was supposed to be a short drabble #stars help me

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wednesday4econlive · 3 years

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Journal Entries from Different Perspectives on Small Businesses Affected by COVID-19

Megan Vu #83145895

Paulina Pham #16434283

Abraham Najera #24601711

Occupation/Perspective: Server at local ramen and sushi restaurant

Something that COVID has definitely affected is the supply and demand in the restaurant industry, especially small businesses. I currently work as a server for a small business restaurant and supply and demand has constantly been changing based on the county’s new policies. For example, dine-in was not allowed for a while so my restaurant switched to takeout only to accommodate. However, we still were not making nearly as many sales as we usually do and of course because it was takeout only and very minimal service, our tips were much smaller than normal, greatly affecting my and my coworkers’ lives. I know some of my coworkers were late on rent and other payments because of the sudden lack of income. Then, when outdoor dining was allowed again, suddenly the demand was too much to handle. Everyone was getting out of their houses and the supply was unable to meet the demand because county COVID policy stated that restaurants can only open at a certain capacity. Therefore, many people were upset when they would show up and have to wait an hour to eat. With my previous knowledge of economics, I’ve always thought supply and demand essentially move with each other and if they didn’t, businesses would go bankrupt, etc. However, I’ve realized that supply and demand can apply to so many things, even small things like dining at a restaurant. I’ve also thought that supply and demand only really affected the production of a good, the people producing that good, and the people buying that good, but in reality it can affect so many people outside of that transaction. It wasn’t just between my boss and the customers. My coworkers, their roommates, their landlords, etc. were all affected as well. In addition to noticing how the basic principles of supply and demand affected the restaurant, I also noticed how elastic the demand can be for certain restaurants. I heard of a lot of small businesses going out of business around my area. Businesses like sandwich shops and pizzerias that offer very common goods with many substitutes were frequently going out of business. However, the restaurant I work at was still receiving enough business to stay afloat due to the inelastic demand for ramen in this area. Not only does our restaurant still receive enough business, but our food is relatively overpriced in comparison to other ramen and sushi restaurants. My boss has had a great advantage during this time because she owns the only local ramen shop. In fact, she was even able to open up a new Korean barbeque restaurant in the middle of the pandemic due to the highly inelastic demand for Korean barbeque in this city. Her prices at her new restaurant are significantly higher than the next nearest Korean barbeque restaurant’s, but the next nearest restaurants are about a 30 minute drive away, which allowed me to witness firsthand the effect of inelastic demand.

Occupation/Perspective: Restaurant owner of Thai restaurant

One of my closest friend’s parents is an owner of a family restaurant. The restaurant is located only locally in my hometown city, so business is reliant on how often locals are willing to purchase from the restaurant whether it’s take-out or dine-in. Since the pandemic has hit, their business has been suffering from several factors consisting of the quantity and supply rule, the opportunity costs presented, and the domino effect of the pandemic. The quantity and supply has shifted towards the left due to the resulting decrease of customers that purchase food outside of their home.

As depicted in the graph above, the demand curve has shifted to the left, representing how fewer customers purchase from the restaurant due to the pandemic’s personal effects on individuals. The restaurant’s food has been seen as a luxury item or isn’t identified as a necessity; thus, it’s not necessary to purchase the food compared to eating at home resulting in less of a demand for the restaurant. Consequently, the price for the food increases to compensate for the lack of customers. Additionally, the restaurant owner faces opportunity costs when placing value and determining what is more important to them. For example, the restaurant owner allowed dine-in while following safety regulations at a certain point, however, by allowing dine-in, the restaurant owner loses the security of confirmed safety from COVID-19 infection and for her employees. However, when the restaurant owner decides to close dine-in options, she has the opportunity cost of missing the chance to gain more revenue from customers who want to dine in the restaurant. To explain why and how the restaurant is suffering during the pandemic, economists could detail struggles through the domino effect where the cumulative effect produced when one event sets off a chain of similar events. When the pandemic occurred, thousands of individuals lost their jobs due to employers being unable to afford all of the employees for their businesses. This results in individuals being unable to fund for luxury or unnecessary items for themselves like take-out when they could save money and eat at home. By eating at home, this results in local businesses like restaurants suffering due to lack of customers which results in a larger cycle of struggling businesses or individuals.

Occupation/Perspective: Employee at a local gym

Working at a small business during the pandemic has allowed me to experience firsthand the basic principles of economics. I currently work as a front desk employee at a local gym and have been able to experience how the pandemic has affected small businesses. While working there throughout the pandemic I have been able to notice many principles of economics that apply to the gym. The first trend I noticed was just how elastic the demand for gyms is. At the start of the pandemic all gyms in my city had to close down, but after a couple of months some gyms started to reopen again. While some gyms choose to open back up, many decided to remain closed which narrowed the options that people have for choosing a gym to go to. For a lot of people this is not much of an issue at all because gyms are a good with many substitutes. For example, although each gym varies slightly in its qualities and amenities they offer, the basic service of having a place where someone can go to work out is almost the exact same across all gyms. If someone who has a gym membership at EOS Fitness switches over to Crunch Fitness because EOS Fitness closed down, they are still receiving almost the exact same service that they were going to EOS Fitness. This principle of elasticity has greatly affected the gym that I work out because many gyms in my city have chosen to remain closed during the pandemic. Recently I have noticed an increase in the amount of new people signing up for a membership at our gym because they have no other options and our gym provides almost identical services as the other gyms in the area. In the short run, this demand may be very elastic, however, in the long run I am predicting that the demand would be less elastic as people may want to switch back to their original gym because they are accustomed to that facility and know the people that go there. Another principle of economics that I have noticed at my gym is the idea of thinking at the margin. Recently the gym has been experimenting with what hours are best to open throughout the day in order to maximize the profit that gym makes. The gym has been taking note of what hours most people come in and what hours the least amount of people come in. The gym has been trying out different hours to open based on what hours their revenue exceeds the costs they face. The gym incurs fixed costs such as building fees, utilities, maintenance, licensing fees, etc. These are the fees the gym must pay regardless of whether they are open or not and do not make much of a difference when deciding what hours of the day to open because they are paying regardless. The costs that are a deciding factor when deciding what hours to open are the variable costs. The biggest variable costs that the gym has is employee wages. Paying employees is very important when thinking at the margin because if the gym is open they must pay employees to operate the facility, however, if the gym is closed then there are no employees to pay. Thinking at the margin is a very effective way for the gym to decide what hours to open. If the revenue the gym is making exceeds the fixed costs plus variable costs, then the gym should stay open because they are making profit. On the other hand, if the revenue the gym is making is lower than the fixed costs plus variable costs, then the gym should close because they are losing money. The marginal decision for the gym is often only a few people. When the gym has 15 people in the building they are making a profit, however if there are only 12 people in the building then the gym is losing money. At my gym we are only open from 8am - 9pm on the weekdays because if the gym were to open any hours beyond that they would be losing money.

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agilenano · 3 years

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Agilenano - News: My Favorite Home Gear.

*Heads up: Today (November 12th) only, Boll & Branch is offering 20% off sitewide! Discount is applied at checkout. I mention my beloved sheeting AND bed blanket below — great opportunity to buy for yourself or as a gift.

Like all of you, I have spent far more time at home than I have in my entire life this year, and it has given rise to some intense organization projects as well as a new appreciation for the absolute best gear at home. Below, sharing my favorite items for a comfortable and well-maintained home:

MIELE VACUUM // Trust me when I say this is the place to invest. I had been getting by with a cordless option and with a dog, children, and heavy foot traffic in our tiny apartment, an upgrade to a proper Miele was the absolute best thing I could have done for everyone. It is so powerful, has multiple settings (for rugs, upholstered furniture, hardwood floors), and is brilliantly designed. These are built to last. Absolutely worth every penny. I also remember doing a lot of research to figure out the difference between their various models/lines, which are very confusing and unnecessary in my opinion, and this is the exact model I landed on: the perfect balance between utility/versatility for different floors and price.

SIMPLE HUMAN RECYCLER (ALSO AVAIL ON AMAZON) // A well-designed and sleek-looking divided recycler big enough for all the glassware, plastic, and cardboard we go through in our busy family. I specifically love the plastic “liner” bin that enables me to easily lift that piece out and carry it to the bigger recycling bins in our building. It also opens with the tap of a foot, the lid can be clicked into an upright position when removing the bag/bin, and the brushed stainless steel exterior means that it’s fairly resistant to smudges and fingerprints.

RUG PADS // These extend the life of your rug, protect your floors, add cushioning, and — most importantly — prevent rug slippage/movement. When I finally bought these for all of the rugs in my home, I felt like I’d crossed a new threshold into adulthood. (My favorite rugs here.)

PHILIPS HUE BULBS // We have, over time, as bulbs have died, installed Philips Hue bulbs in most of the lights in our home. These are controlled via our smartphones (and Siri, via our HomePod), where we have them configured to turn on and dim on a schedule that mirrors our lifestyle. It feels like the future to walk into a room and say: “Hey Siri, turn on the lights in the master bedroom,” and suddenly they are on. Or “Hey Siri, dim the dining room lights to 30%” and all of the lights go down to a romantic candlelit effect. You can also change the warmth/color of the lights. Often we like really bright light in the morning, but warm yellow tones in the evening. The starter kit might make a great gift for a new homeowner or a tech-loving friend.

EERO WIFI MESH NETWORK // Has given us the gift of faster, more reliable, and easier-to-monitor Internet. This replaces your old WiFi router and includes an app that enables you to track Internet speed, which has been handy whenever there has been an issue with the provider. (We can just show the discrepancy between the speed they promise and the speed we are getting.). Bonus: it looks good and the beacons double as nightlights.

O-CEDAR SPONGES // These are the best sponges I’ve ever used. They are thick, sturdy, absorbent, non-scratch, and they also bend/give nicely. Can you tell I spend a lot of time washing dishes? (We cook A LOT at home!)

OXO SHOWER CADDY // A strange thing to love, but this is just so well-designed! It never slips/slides around, has shelves at the perfect height (tall enough for most shampoo bottles), a hook for a loofah, and a soap tray.

TOSCA STORAGE BINS // J’adore these (dare I say it?) elegant bins for housing bulkier items in our pantry section.

UNDERBED SHOE STORAGE // Fellow women short on closet space: these have been my saving grace. The thing I love best about them is that they are very shallow in height, and my bed affords the slightest of underbed clearance! This was one of the only models I could find that would actually fit under the bed. I like that they keep all my beloved shoes dust and debris-free!

WHITE UTILITY BINS // Used for countless purposes in every closet I have. Great for organizing spices, holding dog gear, housing “backstock” lightbulbs and batteries, etc. Inexpensive, easy to clean, waterproof. (These are great for under-sink areas for that reason, too.)

MICROFIBER CLEANING TOWELS // I bought these begrudgingly when, after we’d fully moved out of our former apartment, I returned to supervise a crew of housekeepers to conduct a deep clean of the emptied apartment, per our lease. When I arrived, after unpleasantly schlepping a ton of gear and supplies on the Subway, I realized I’d forgotten rags to clean with. I dashed out to the local Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and they only had these. WOW. What a happy accident — these are a fantastic tool to clean with. I love that they dust even delicate surfaces (like porcelain, TV screens, Mr. Magpie’s expensive acoustics equipment) but can also be used with cleaning products on wood, marble, glass, etc. They are also deceptively absorbent without ever becoming sopping wet. I don’t understand where the liquid goes! Anyhow, they are fantastic!

BROTHER LABELMAKER // I use this vigor and joy. So handy for spice jars (label the tops!), drawers of the acrylic cube I use to organize first aid and medicine, and even the white bins above (i.e., LIGHTBULBS, DOG GEAR, etc.). No question about where things belong. (If you’re not a labelmaker kind of gal, these pre-written tags covering many common pantry items might be your ticket.)

DRAWER DIVIDERS AND SHELF DIVIDERS // These empower me to keep clothes super-tidy. This underwear drawer organizer also wins my respect — keeps everything so organized and forces me to properly fold and roll my undies. (My favorite undergarments here.)

ROWENTA IRON // Just the absolute best. I thought I was “bad” at ironing until I bought this iron.

BOLL AND BRANCH SHEETING AND BED BLANKET // I know this feels more “design” than “utility,” but these sheets truly enhanced our sleeping experience. They are cool and ultra-soft, and the blanket is one of my absolute favorite items I’ve bought this year. Ultra-soft and warm and just the perfect weight.

FEATHERED FRIENDS DOWN COMFORTER // Deliciously fluffy with just the right amount of heft. Like sleeping in a cloud.

XTREME COMFORTS MEMORY FOAM PILLOWS // Just try it. It is like heaven! You can remove the fill to your liking, but this pillow never gets hot and always feels like a dream.

STORI PLASTIC ORGANIZERS // Love these in my cabinets and drawers for keeping everything organized/jumble-free.

P.S. My favorite gear for small spaces and little luxuries for even the tiniest of homes.

P.P.S. Recent tabletop and home decor finds for under $100.

P.P.P.S. Thoughts on mom guilt.

The post My Favorite Home Gear. appeared first on The Fashion Magpie.

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/my-favorite-home-gear

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followingmywanderlust · 4 years

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Taking A Bite Out of The Big Apple

I have never been a city person. As a kid the tall structures and heavy population made me anxious and I always preferred the countryside. I was intimidated by the honking of the cars throughout the night, the narrow sidewalks filled with people, the dozens of different scents from the restaurants that lined the streets, and the sounds of various street performers. Going to the city was a sensory overload for me and I often left a little bit spooked.

My recent trip to New York City, however, changed my mind. NYC is an excellent place to travel to and there are activities and beautiful spots that are always within walking distance of you. I am fortunate enough to have friends who share a passion for travel and adventure, but as college students we often find ourselves limited by money. We found plenty of activities to do to fill our three days in the city without spending hundreds of dollars. NYC is an enormous city and I only got to experience some of it, but based off of what I saw, the Big Apple is a place you should add to your bucket list. Below I have outlined the highlights of my trip, and things you should know before you take on the city.

JERSEY CITY

We started our journey in Jersey City which is where we stayed overnight. After sleeping two nights in this city, I realized it is a great place to both escape and experience NYC. Many younger people who work in Manhattan often stay in Jersey City because of cheaper rents. Just across the street from the apartment complex we were staying at was a beautiful view of the city. The streets in Jersey City were a lot quieter, and only a trolley would pass every once in a while. In comparison to NYC's crowded sidewalks, Jersey City is a lot quieter. Those individuals who are out seem to be heading to the subway to get to the city and are not looking to walk around. NYC is just a short subway or ferry ride away, so if you need to escape the busy city life at night, Jersey City is right next door.

TRANSPORTATION

During our trip we only took the subway and walked in order to save as much money as possible. The subways were usually very crowded and at one point we had to run along the platform to find a car that the three of us could fit into (we made it though!). The subways were fairly affordable but after going back and forth to Jersey City every day and other locations in NYC, the costs added up. A one-way fare from Jersey City to Manhattan is $2.75. We bought our tickets at the station's PATH vending machine with both cash and cards and only ran into trouble when one of the vending machines didn't work (to learn more about the PATH fares click here). The subways are very clean and efficient and we took one in every day from Jersey City to The Oculus. The Oculus houses the World Trade Center Transportation Hub in Manhattan for the PATH system. The Oculus is located right next to the 9/11 Memorial, and subways depart from and arrive at The Oculus from multiple locations. Of course in the city in addition to the subway there are taxis, Ubers, and Lyfts, but we opted to walk instead.

THE MOST ICONIC SPOTS

THE OCULUS

Opened in 2016, The Oculus has the most interesting architecture I have seen. The Oculus is located in lower Manhattan next to the 9/11 Memorial and serves as a hub for Manhattan. I took the subway into The Oculus from Jersey City every morning and departed from there every night, so I got to experience a lot of the cool features that the building has. The subway ride between the two cities took around 7 minutes and flew by. It is a very open concept with beautiful lighting at night. It is entirely white which felt like the train station straight out of the last Harry Potter movie. The Oculus has a variety of small stores for visitors to go to. For the most part, my experience with the building was getting in and out so I didn't get the chance to shop, but I did take the stairs to the top level of the structure which provides a very beautiful view of the building's entirety. From the outside, the building looks even more unique as it contrasts against the black, tall buildings that surround it.

BROOKLYN BRIDGE

At over 1.1 miles long, the bridge makes an excellent walk with a view on both sides of the city as it leaves Manhattan and crosses over the East River to Brooklyn. The bridge is typically very crowded as it is a tourist attraction, so be aware that there will be people on either side of you at almost all times. Don't be like me and wear heels to walk across this bridge, as you will be much more comfortable in sneakers or tennis shoes. There is the option to bike across the bridge as well but it may be difficult considering the amount of people walking on the bridge. Make sure to bring your camera because along the bridge are some beautiful views - you can even see the Statue of Liberty if you look closely (it looks tiny from the bridge). While walking the bridge you'll see almost everyone stopping for photos and climbing (safely) on the rails to get the best pictures. Just be aware of your surroundings so that you do not bump into anyone!

Once off the bridge there are plenty of spots that make for excellent views from afar -- all you have to do is walk around! We found Soho House, a tall brick building near Main Street Park, where we climbed to the top floor where we discovered an outdoor space with beautiful brick arcs that framed the bridge perfectly. In front of the house is a picture-perfect walkway with a stunning view of Brooklyn Bridge on the water - a great spot for photos without crowds of people in the background. There are various parks surrounding the bridge such as Main Street Park and Brooklyn Bridge Park that have carousels and gorgeous views of the city and bridge.

STATUE OF LIBERTY

I did not get the chance to actually go to the Statue of Liberty, but while crossing the Brooklyn Bridge I was able to see it. I used my camera to zoom in on the statue to get a better view and I was able to take the photo below. Next time I go to NYC I will be sure to visit the statue as it holds such historical significance for our country.

DUMBO

One of the best photo spots for the Brooklyn Bridge is at a place called Dumbo; and no, it has nothing to do with the elephant that can fly from Disney. Dumbo is actually short for "Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass" - cool, right! Dumbo is located in Brooklyn, and the iconic photo spot is located at the intersection of Washington and Front Streets. Influencers, bloggers, and tourists all love this spot for the perfect framing of the bridge between two brick buildings. Your photo may not come out picture perfect as there are crowds of people and cars, but it still is a great spot to see.

ROCKEFELLER CENTER

I visited New York City right after Christmas which was the perfect time to visit the Rockefeller Center. Rockefeller Center is located in Midtown Manhattan and has many places to shop, eat, and see the city. Because of the time of year, the center was packed with people almost everywhere. The Christmas tree is bigger than any Christmas tree I have seen before - It's hard to miss! Additionally, right near St. Patrick's Cathedral there was a light show that lasted only a few minutes but went along to different songs. We grabbed Ben & Jerry's ice cream at a complex located right next to the tree for a yummy desert before we headed back to Jersey City.

ST. PATRICK’S CATHEDRAL

I was astounded when I first saw this cathedral because the beautiful architecture and color stood out in the midst of black skyscrapers and the dark sky. St. Patrick's Cathedral is one of the most interesting buildings I have seen and I was only able to experience it from the outside. The white, rigid structure has beautiful sculptings and patterns within the windows, and archways exaggerated the older yet polished exterior. The cathedral is very long and its brilliant design is not just visible in the front. I was able to walk along the outside of the cathedral and though I did not get the chance to go inside I can only imagine that the inside matches the beauty of the outside.

TIMES SQUARE

Despite only experiencing Times Square from afar, I could tell that it was a hub of the city. Times Square is only an 8 minute walk from the Rockefeller Center and even from afar you can see that people are crowded everywhere. Electronic billboards and neon signs lined the streets making for some great photographs. We didn't go to the center of Times Square, but I was able to experience it at a glimpse at the intersection of W 49 St. and Broadway. I plan to return to Times Square in the future in order to truly experience the beauty of all of the buildings and shops that surround the area.

FOOD

CHICONNIS

Located right off of the Brooklyn Bridge and outside of Main Street Park in Brooklyn sits Cecconi, a higher-end restaurant that has a beautiful view. The interior of the restaurant is extremely luxurious with white brick walls, different colored comfortable seating, and beautiful art that lines the walls. We were given the brunch menu and I decided to go out of my comfort zone and try something new. I ordered the eggplant parmigiana which was delicious, but also super filling - I couldn't finish it! I also decided to treat myself and get a juice as well (which was on the pricier side), but the customer service that came along with it was excellent. A waiter came out with a glass and opened the juice and poured it in for me, and gave me the rest in the bottle for later. I got the watermelon juice which had a very strong gingery taste which I could only drink a little at a time, but for experienced juice-drinkers (if that is a thing!) I think this juice would be delicious. I am not a coffee drinker, but my friends absolutely adored their lattes, and they even came with a little biscuit on the side. Overall, this restaurant had great customer service once we sat down and our food was made swiftly. The only issue we had was our wait time even after making a reservation; the restaurant was incredibly busy when we went and even though we made a reservation we had to wait around a half hour to be seated. I think the food and quality customer service made up for it though! I would recommend this restaurant to anyone for a nice meal in a beautiful spot as long as they make a reservation ahead of time.

THE STANDARD GRILL

The Standard Grill is attached to The Standard hotel in the Meatpacking District which is located in the west side of Manhattan. We went to the grill for brunch and we were met with a surprisingly extensive menu which can be seen here. We struggled to pick our food with so many delicious options, but we were able to make some good choices in the end. While we were waiting for our food we were able to admire the beautiful space that let in a lot of natural light and was lined with green plants that made the atmosphere welcoming and comfortable. I got the Smoked Salmon Platter which was TO DIE FOR. The food was so yummy that we couldn't fit in room for dessert. My platter was arranged very nicely as I was able to construct my own sandwich, and the customer service was excellent as well. In the downstairs of the grill (where the bathrooms are) there was a small photo booth that we felt like we had to take advantage of and we were even sent a digital copy afterwards. I'm no restaurant connoisseur, but this restaurant was a little more on the pricey side for a brunch meal, but the quality of the food definitely lines up with the price - you get what you pay for! The grill wasn't nearly as popular as the Cecconi restaurant so we had no wait time at all which was a huge plus especially after walking a few miles through the city and wanting to sit down.

PHOTO OPPORTUNITIES

ROOFTOP VIEW

While walking around the Meatpacking District, we stumbled upon this perfect rooftop view located in Restoration Hardware, an interior design store. We walked through the store and saw some stunning furniture (which we definitely couldn't afford) and we climbed the stairs to the top level where there are sliders that open up to an open view. We weren't even sure if the sliders opened, but we decided to give it a try. No one else was on the overlook giving us the freedom to enjoy the view and take photos on our own. This store was a great place for some classic city photos without the crowds. Remember to keep your eyes open for spots like these when you're exploring the city, you never know what you will find!

COLORED WALLS

During my visit we stumbled upon a bunch of very artistic walls located outside of The Oculus that made for some excellent photos. There were neon colors, different patterns, black and white, and overall a great place to snap some pics with a cool backdrop. These walls were a part of The Reflection Project by Yoko Ono in which the walls aim to invite people off of the streets to engage with their "personal reflection."

WALKING

Because we wanted to save some money, we walked almost everywhere through the city. Every day we walked at least 5 miles (one day we walked 7!) which was totally worth the sore feet. If you choose to walk, make sure you dress comfortably with sneakers that can help you get to your destination painlessly. We got to see the city from the ground level and walking allowed us to find some great photo spots along the way. During our stay we totally lucked out with the weather being almost 50° every day which made my experience so much better. Traveling on your own two feet gives you the ability to adventure a little bit and go off the roads to find some pretty unique spots. Now, you don't have to walk 5 miles, but make sure to walk around when you're in the city to find some great places for pictures with stunning views.

CONCLUSION

New York City definitely surprised me. I was able to walk throughout the city freely and I saw some pretty amazing art, views, and architecture all the while getting some great exercise. The child who was once scared of skyscrapers and crowds had disappeared. I found myself in the crowds looking at all of the families trying to scramble together and take a picture, couples that were hugging underneath the christmas tree, and photographers yelling out to strangers trying to take their photos. I was able to see all different types of people and rather than anxiously pushing through crowds to get some fresh air as I had when I was a kid, I took a step back and observed my surroundings. Instead of getting dizzy looking at tall buildings, I glanced inside the windows and saw beautifully arranged apartments, people partying, and individuals looking out telescopes. As a photographer I found the city to be photographable at almost any location, but I realized the importance of retracting my eye from the viewfinder of my camera and taking in the city life. Being with my two best friends made this adventure infinitely better as I had people I could trust and make memories with for the duration of my stay. I highly recommend traveling to NYC to experience the stunning architecture, unexpected discoveries, and delicious food. Now go find some friends and schedule a trip to NYC!

for more content visit: https://kyliebreenphotography.com/2020/04/18/taking-a-bite-out-of-the-big-apple/

#newyorkcity #nyc #travel #blog #travelblog #blogging #review #nycreview #statueofliberty #jerseycity #timessquare

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elizabethhgarcia-blog · 5 years

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Welcome to My Life

My name is Elizabeth Garcia and I was born and raised in Los Angeles, CA. I am from the barrio of Glassell Park, more specifically, I am from the 3200 block of Drew Street. A place where gang violence, drugs and crime once thrived. Drew Street, a two-block street, is among Los Angeles’ most notorious streets due to the drug trade and gang violence that grew out of there.

In the late 1960’s the City of Los Angeles built apartment buildings in this isolated neighborhood surrounded by dead ends which would later be a benefit to the gang that ran the street (Pelisek, 2008). In the late 1990’s the small street I grew up on was primarily occupied by Mexican immigrants, most of them from the small town of Tlalchapa, Guerrero, México which was also known for being one of the country’s most violent regions. The one who ran the street was a woman named Maria “Chata” Leon, who was a mother to 13 children and lived up the street from my family. This woman “lived up” to every stereotype one could have on women of color. She had many children, lived off of welfare before she got involved in the drug business, was involved in the drug trade, and was also a criminal. Maria Leon fit the description of the “Welfare mother” as stated in The Black Feminist Thought by Patricia Hill Collins. Though she did not identify as a black woman, she was a person of color that fit the perception of this image. “Welfare queen is a phrase that describes economic dependency- the lack of job and/or income...” (80). This controlling image that individuals have of black women, could also relate to Maria Leon.

Up the street from where I lived, was the “satellite house”. In this place, Maria raised and taught her children how to run the drug business. There was not one person on Drew Street that did not know who she was due to the many fire fights that stung out of here. Some of her children ended up in wars against the other local gangs and therefore ended up losing their lives. There are many negative associations about this neighborhood, therefore many individuals with aspirations left the street and those who remained turned Drew into a hive of drug and gang activity (Quinones, 2008). This categorization that occurs amongst people of color, is a way of being marginalized and being thought as “no good”. As we see in the works of Michael Zweig, What is Social Class: What’s Class Got to do With It, he states that “we are of course all individuals, but our individuality and personal life chances are shaped- limited or enhanced- by the economic and social class in. which we have grown up and in which we exist as adults.” (127) In my case, growing up on Drew Street meant that life should have been different than what it is today. For those of us who stayed in Glassell Park, we had no choice but to try our best to make it out and become someone while avoiding these stereotypes that people from the “barrio” are nothing but a statistic.

Both my parents, immigrants from the small town of Tlalchapa, Guerrero received no education in the United States. My father received an education in Mexico but did not do anything with his accounting degree here, whereas my mother was never able to afford an education but that does not mean that she was not a wise woman. My father often times at work in order to be able to provide for us and my mother always being with us and making sure we didn’t fall out of line and join those on the street. A quote that stood out from the reading by McNamee and Miller Jr., The Silver Spoon: Inheritance and the Staggered Start, was “Most parents only want the best for their children. As a result, most parents try to do everything they can to secure their children futures.” (132) This quote resonates with my life experiences because growing up, though we didn't have much, my parents always strived to give my siblings and I what we needed to succeed. We might not have had it all in terms of luxury items but there was always love, food, shelter, guidance and support in every aspect of life.

Growing up, my mother was very strict as to who I was allowed to play with and talk to but I never understood why. Although I did not have it all growing up in terms of material things, I had the love and guidance from my parents and that is the reason why I continue to work on myself today. In the words of McNamee and Miller Jr., “cultural capital includes but is not limited to interpersonal styles, and demeanor, manners and etiquette and vocabulary...” (133). Just because someone does not have it all economically, it does not mean that you cannot succeed with the values and manners you are taught from the beginning. In the words of my mother, “la educación empieza en la casa”. The household I grew up in, is what I call a “traditional Mexican home” where there are many rules and expectations of the children, family is most important, and future success is always a topic. As a child I never liked being told what to do, how to do it, and being held to the highest expectations. Somehow my parents expected more from me than they did from my older sister and my younger brother.

As I got older, I came to the realization that I was raised very different than those I grew up with. For fun, our father would take us to the library on Friday’s if we did good throughout the week, we went on hikes, and had dinner on occasion. I never met a classmate that did things like my family did but one thing we had in common was the idea of what was normal. Our normal included witnessing several gang fights, gun shots almost every night, and constant lock-downs, a protocol that is taught in schools for security purposes. If something of this nature did not happen in two or three consecutive days, we would wonder what was going on. Growing up on Drew Street was rough. Always wondering if we were safe walking to and from school, if anything would happen to us while we were playing outside, and most importantly, wondering if we would be able to make it out of there and become someone. Without the structure that I grew up with, I could have been a teen mom, possibly in the wrong footsteps, and without a desire for pursuing higher education.

In this graph, we see that Hispanics, like Blacks and Asians, continue to be underrepresented in college enrollements. Though numbers of enrollment have increased over the years, we, POC, continue to be outnumbered by White individuals.

As a child of a working-class family, you learn the values of hard work and determination. You realize that your parents left everything they once knew so that their children could have the best future possible, so it is only right to pursue a higher education in hopes of being successful one day. For minority individuals like myself, pursuing a higher education is not something that is guaranteed. People like me struggle to secure a spot in a community college, let alone a prestigious university. McNamee and Miller state that for “heirs of large fortunes- their future is financially secure. They will grow up having the best of everything and having every opportunity money can buy.” (132). This quote relates to the recent scandal that broke out in March where over 50 people got charged in the largest college admissions bribery case. All of these people: white, upper-class individuals with the money to buy their way into top universities. This might leave people that belong to this cultura of the struggle feeling like they are not receiving the credit they deserve for rightly securing a spot in these colleges and universities. The problem here is that “in recent years, by all measures, the rich are getting richer, and the gap between the rich and everyone else has appreciably increased” (McNamee and Miller, 2004). This enormous gap between us, working-class individuals and the upper-class families is what is causing the underrepresentation of POC in many aspects of life. A concept that plays an important role in the underrepresentation of people of color in higher education institutions is white privilege. White privilege is all around us and those who are white “are carefully taught not to recognize white privilege as males are taught not tp recognize male privilege.” (McIntosh, P., 2008). These individuals fail to see where and how they are to an advantage.

Unlike the dominant race in American society, us Latinos and people of color, are taught to “echarle ganas” y “ponernos las pilas” porque tenemos que salir adelante. Those are just a few things I heard from my parents growing up, as im sure many others have. Education is something that is not for everyone, but it should always be an option. Latinos tend to make up a small percentage of the educated population due to financial hardships or lack of resources and mentorships available in underrepresented communities. From experience, lacking mentorship when in this situation makes it difficult to fill out a simple college application and an application for financial aid. Therefore, many students choose not to go to college simply because they cannot find the resources to pay for it or others may end up going but end up dropping out. Since parents of first-generation children often times do not receive an education in the United States, there is no way you can ask a parent for help.

For me, going to college has been a bit of a struggle. My older sister did go to college, but even then, the uncertainty of not knowing if paperwork is being filled out correctly makes you overthink the slightest of tasks. In my extended family there are only two cousins, not counting myself or my sister, who have made it to college. My sister Lizette, being the only one out of all of us who has graduated and is now in the process of obtaining her Master of Arts in Teaching degree at the University of Southern California.

I started off at the University of Phoenix, yes, that online school that is advertised on TV. Over 40k invested in this institution that did not care for my success and that is why I am here, today, living in Albuquerque.

In the beginning, moving out of state sounded like so much fun, but only because no one in my family had done it before. I would be the first “to leave the nest” as my parents like to say and I had to learn some things the hard way and face some not-so-nice individuals along the way. I transferred to the University of New Mexico in Fall 2017 and that summer, as we were driving here, we stopped at a gas station in Arizona and that is where my first conflicting encounter occurred. As I was standing in line to pay for some snacks, a man approached me and went on to say, “You look like the real life Pocahontas” and in that moment I did not know how to react. I did not know if he meant it as a compliment or as an insult but I was just in shock to hear someone say such thing. Whether or not it was a compliment, in the works of Dr. Derald W. Sue, this would be considered a microaggression. This man who said this to me was a person of color and that is why I believe that there was no ill-will behind this comment. After all, “the most detrimental forms of microaggressions are usually delivered by well-intentioned individuals who are unaware that they have engaged in harmful conduct toward a socially developed group. (Sue, Derald W., 2010)

There have been many other instances where I have received comments from peers including:

- “How do you afford to pay for college?”

-”You have a really white name for being Mexican.”

-”You were born in Mexico right?”

-”What do your parents do for a living?” (after telling someone that my parents don’t work, implying that they must be doing something illegal to allow me to receive an education.)

-”Your culture would be Indian culture right?”

“You have some Black in you huh.”

These are all things I have heard since moving to Albuquerque and I have convinced myself that it is because compared to other Hispanics, Latin@s, Chicanxs, I am of a darker complexion but it is who I am and nothing anyone says will make me question my identity. The road to getting to where I am today has not been easy. Leaving everything and everyone back home, 800 miles away was no easy task but it was been well worth it. Every struggle one faces in life contributes to the person you are destined to become. In a few days, I will be finally graduating with my undergraduate degree and I am so thankful that I get to represent my people, mi cultura, my home, mi familia with this accomplishment.

Always remember : “It’s not where you come from, it’s what you grow into.”

Text Sources:

-Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Feminist Thought. Routledge, 2009, pp. 80

-McIntosh, Peggy. 2008. "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack." in The Meaning of Difference : American Constructions of Race, Sex and Gender, Social Class, Sexual Orientation, and Disability, edited by Karen Elaine Rosenblum and Toni-Michelle Travis. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill Higher Education, c2008.5thEd.

-McNamee and Robert K. Miller Jr,. 2004. The Silver Spoon: Inheritance and the Staggered Start. Edited by Rosenblum, Karen and Travis, Toni-Michelle. The Meaning of Difference: American Constructions of Race and Ethnicity, Sex and Gender, Social Class, Sexuality, and Disability.New York, NY: McGraw-Hill Higher Education, c2016. 7th ed.

-Pelisek, C. (2008, March 5). The Gangsters of Drew Street, Glassell Park. L.A. Weekly.Retrieved from https://www.laweekly.com/news/the-gangsters-of-drew-street-glassell-park-2152296

-Quinones, S. (2008, July 23). A&E Biography Documentary on Drew Street and the Leon-Real Family. Dreamland. Retrieved from http://samquinones.com/reporters-blog/2013/07/23/los-angeles-ae-biography-documentary-on-drew-street-and-the-leon-real-family/

-Zweig, Michael. 2004. What is Social Class: Whats Class Got to do With It?. Edited by Rosenblum, Karen and Travis, Toni-Michelle. The Meaning of Difference: American Constructions of Race and Ethnicity, Sex and Gender, Social Class, Sexuality, and Disability. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill Higher Education, c2016. 7th ed.

Photo sources:

-https://www.omnihotels.com/hotels/los-angeles-california-plaza/things-to-do/area-attractions/dodger-stadium

-https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2014/04/24/more-hispanics-blacks-enrolling-in-college-but-lag-in-bachelors-degrees/

-http://adobeoasis.com/welcome-new-mexico/

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newstfionline · 7 years

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‘Powerhouse of prayer:’ Millennials are drawn to monastic life in Prairie du Sac

Katelyn Ferral, The Capital Times, Mar 1, 2017

PRAIRIE DU SAC--Sister Christina Marie, 33, was an entomologist. Sister Mary Benedicta, 36, studied to be an aeronautical engineer. And Sister Mary Bede, 30, intended to become a professional violinist.

They left those lives to become nuns, cloistered together at Valley of Our Lady Monastery in a small village in Sauk County. It’s home to a Cistercian order, the only Catholic convent of its kind in the country.

In four weeks, Erin Wells, 24, heads there, too.

She’ll come from her parents’ house in Columbus, Ohio, after earning a degree in mechanical engineering from Ohio State University. She’ll sell her car, get rid of most of her possessions and bring only a few things, including a Bible and her rosary.

“I went to college thinking I was going to be an engineer, work for Honda and travel to Japan all the time,” she said, “and be rich and write a book and be on the New York Times best-seller list.”

Now Wells is set to be part of an ancient tradition of communal religious life known as contemplative monasticism. She will live simply, becoming singularly focused on prayer, talking and listening to God without distraction.

“I’ve thought about serving in various ways, but ultimately what would fulfill me the most would be to hold the world in my heart and pray for them,” she said.

Wells will be one of growing number at Valley of Our Lady, an outlier in a 40-year downward trend in women entering convents. With 21 nuns once Wells joins this month, the convent will be at full capacity, millennials comprising more than one-third of the group.

Although the monastery in Prairie Du Sac is growing, nationwide, the number of nuns and priests has decreased dramatically. In 1965, there were 179,954 religious sisters in the U.S. Last year, there were 47,170, according to the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate (CARA), a nonprofit research group affiliated with Georgetown University.

If current trends continue, there would be fewer than 1,000 religious sisters in the United States in 2043 as they die out, according to CARA.

Wells will enter the monastery’s ranks as a postulant, a “trying it out” position that lasts one year. She’ll continue to go through phases called “formation,” eventually wearing a white robe and veil and taking a religious name. Five years from now, she will decide whether to make a permanent vow.

Until then, like others at the monastery, she will live a radically austere life behind closed doors, working out the mystery of what she views as a distinct calling from God.

This begins by waking up at 3:30 a.m. every morning to pray, one of seven formal times throughout the day. The sisters also attend mass before an 8:30 p.m. bedtime.

They can speak to one another during 15 minutes of recreation time each evening. On Sundays, they get 30 minutes.

The rest of the time, they are silent.

The sisters’ daily life includes various jobs to maintain the convent and running a business baking Catholic Communion breads to support themselves.

They maintain simplicity by making their own clothes. Their meals are basic and unchanging, mostly eggs, tuna, cheese, bread and beans.

Every part of cloistered convent life points toward prayer, said Sister Anne Marie, the prioress, or head nun at Valley of Our Lady.

“When we can keep our life simple, then we can keep a balance of work and prayer,” she said. “Most people in the world don’t have the luxury of meeting seven times a day for prayer, but it is very essential to our life. That’s why we’re here.”

Sisters who have made permanent vows have email addresses but don’t peruse websites. Sister Anne Marie assigns one nun to scan the internet briefly each day, only to find subjects for which to pray. A headline is all it takes.

People can also leave prayer requests on the sisters’ answering machine (press 1 for that option when calling) or mail in requests. Asking God to help other people is at the core of their conversations with him, said the prioress.

“Most of the time it’s a walk in faith. Most of the time we have no idea who we prayed for and how God took care of it,” she said. “We join together with people praying for people and it’s just one of the great blessings and mysteries of our life.”

Sometimes Sister Anne Marie prays by geographic region, she said, but her prayer focus varies.

While Wisconsin’s Cistercians sleep, there are others praying around the world. There is a Cistercian monastery in every time zone, she said.

“The young people have this expression, ‘You’re in my face.’ Well, we’re in God’s face. God is being pestered all the time, we don’t leave him alone,” she said. “The pestering is: ‘Lord have mercy, your people are hurting.’”

That kind of prayer, facilitated by a set-apart life of silence, solitude and manual labor, is what draws Wells to the convent.

Should she change her mind, however, Wells can leave at any time before she takes permanent vows.

“It’s not everyone’s vocation and sometimes the only way you can figure out is if you come,” said Sister Anne Marie. “It’s pretty easy for them to know, are they happy? Are they at peace? Can they live the life? Those things show up. We’re not going to keep someone here who is not happy. We’re not going to keep someone here who is not at peace. When they come they still receive grace and help for whatever God is going to call them to later.”

Even permanent vows can be broken, though it is considered extremely serious. Permanent vows include one of obedience.

“We take a vow of obedience which is probably the hardest,” said Sister Christina Marie, who helps run the convent’s bakery. “Having my own life and my own will, having license to do whatever I want, will really just make you miserable. Really, that self-offering, that self-giving love is really where true freedom is found.”

Valley of Our Lady Monastery is a series of cobbled together buildings on 112 acres of farmland. It was founded in 1957 when six nuns from a Cistercian convent in Frauenthal, Switzerland, arrived on Thanksgiving. “Frauenthal” is German for “valley of our lady.”

“The six sisters didn’t know English, they didn’t know our culture and they came with such great courage. They had next to nothing,” said Sister Anne Marie.

From six nuns, the order grew to more than 10 and stagnated. One or two new nuns would come every few years and usually leave.

“The foundresses in their broken, thickly German-accented English would say, ‘They comes and they goes and mostly they goes,’” said Sister Anne Marie.

At the foundation of Cistercian spirituality is simplicity and a vow to be poor like Jesus Christ. Cistercian communities typically live in the country. Early European Cistercians were some of the original swamp drainers, emptying them to build monasteries because they couldn’t afford better land.

“We are known for being given lots of swamps, but again the Holy Spirit comes to our aid and taught some monk how to drain them,” said Sister Anne Marie. “And the Cistercians became experts at draining swamps. Once they got them drained, they were a place you could live in without 5 million mosquitoes.”

It’s a common misconception that cloistered nuns don’t work.

At Valley of Our Lady Monastery, they run a business baking and selling Communion wafers, work that’s both a practical and spiritual necessity. The sisters also maintain and operate the convent building, cleaning, preparing meals, mowing the lawn in the summer and shoveling snow in the winter.

They work to pay their bills, but ultimately, it’s just another vehicle for prayer.

“This is our form of manual labor. It’s a good opportunity to pray while you’re working. It’s fairly repetitive, fairly simple. It is able to free your mind,” said Sister Christina Marie, who is in charge of packaging and shipping in the bakery. Valley of Our Lady sells its wafers to nearly 1,000 parishes nationwide. Last year, it shipped more than 12.9 million of them.

The work enhances the monastery’s mission as a “powerhouse of prayer,” said Sister Christina Marie.

The sisters rotate through work assignments but all nuns start in the convent’s bakery, making the unleavened, 2¾-inch discs. Wells will work there when she arrives.

Like everything else at the monastery, bakery work is silent, too. Sisters can only speak to the bakery manager if they have a question, not to each other.

For Wells, this bakery work will replace a job she was offered with General Electric. The opportunity was one she had worked for throughout school, but when she realized she was interested in religious life, her earlier career ambitions waned.

“I had the opportunities of the world laid out before me,” she said. “But ultimately, what would it amount to? What if I did end up high up in a big company with all the money and technology I could possibly want? What would it amount to? Nothing. Nothing compared with God.”

The Cistercian sisters at Valley of Our Lady don’t think of their former lives, attached to their old names and hobbies, as a loss.

Parents of cloistered nuns can especially struggle, wondering how their child could “give it all up” for the convent, never to return home. Nuns are not permitted to leave but families can visit them at the convent once a year.

Sister Christina Marie was Chrissy Murphy when she was researching microscopic insects and their role in soil decomposition in Puerto Rico. She had just graduated from the University of Colorado at Boulder with a master’s degree and had fallen “madly in love totally unexpectedly” and was planning on entering a Ph.D. program.

“Everything was falling into place except I didn’t have any peace about it,” she said. “There was still something not quite right and at this point in my life, I knew I needed to give God a chance.”

After “a great deal of agony and prayer and tears” she felt like she couldn’t make the commitment to the Ph.D. program. She left Puerto Rico and searched for a religious community. She wanted to try a cloistered, contemplative order and found Valley of Our Lady online. Sister Christina Marie entered as a postulant when she was 24, nine years ago.

She was drawn to the quiet thoughtfulness at the core of monastic life, and said it was how she related to her career in the world, too.

“Even in the world I would have been a contemplative scientist,” she said. Monastic life, she said, “just fed me more.”

Her colleagues and boyfriend were stunned.

“Yeah, people definitely just think you’re throwing your life away,” she said. “It’s really a great gain, just on a different plane. It requires a vision of faith to be able to understand the vocation because it is mystical.”

Though the sisters are separated from other people, “that’s just physically,” Sister Christina Marie said. “We’re very present to the sorrows and the joys and the struggles and the sufferings of the world. It is hard to explain what it is. It’s always something mysterious because God speaks to the heart and the individual in a mysterious way.”

She added: “No one can really totally explain what got them in the door and usually if someone can give you a detailed description of why they’re here, you might want to question their vocation.”

Wells said she is at peace with her impending move. She realized she wanted to be a nun when frustrations with dating led her to recognize and understand the idea of spiritual motherhood.

“The Lord revealed to me that what the religious life was, was to embrace the world as God’s children. Basically if I marry him, everyone is my child other than who my natural children would be if I were to marry someone else.”

The imagery of nuns being “brides of Christ” resonates more with some sisters than with others, said Sister Anne Marie. But human Christian marriage principles of lifelong fidelity and intimacy are reflected in the permanent vows of a cloistered nun.

“In a human marriage, the wife gives herself to her husband, the husband gives himself to the wife saying, ‘I want to journey my entire life with you in a very intimate way,’” she said. “When a cloistered nun makes solemn vows, we are basically saying to God, ‘I am yours, do with me whatever you will; because we know he only wills our best good.”

Of her earlier plans to become an engineer and travel, Wells said: “I was totally fine with letting it go when something better came up. There’s so many other people out there who could have been called to this.

“I get to spend all my time with Jesus, what else could you possibly want?”

Struggling to find fulfillment in a society fixated on personal achievement and run on social media can be a driver for some 20- and 30-somethings to consider religious life. The simplicity of setting aside everything else to pursue only God is attractive, the nuns said.

“They no longer carry the full weight of making themselves happy but it is through relationships with Jesus Christ that they grow into a person who is capable of supernatural love and is able to give that love to others,” said Father Greg Ihm, the vocations director for the Catholic Diocese of Madison, which has made a concerted effort to introduce religious life to young men in its parishes.

Although one may seek a silent and ordered lifestyle, it is not an escape, an end in itself for personal comfort, said Sister Marie-Pierre Sercer, 33, who has a degree in studio art and has been at Valley of Our Lady for 10 years.

It is about the person of Jesus Christ, she said.

“It’s not a spiritual career, it’s not a self-improvement program; it’s about a person: finding that person, learning more and more about that person, falling more and more deeply in love with that person, following that person wherever he leads you, even if that looks like a scary place.”

Wells feels similarly. For her, coming to Valley of Our Lady is the way she can best follow and serve Jesus.

“For one person, serving materially is what’s necessary, for another it’s prayer. Both are necessary to help the world,” she said. “I have to pray.”

#nuns #Cistercian order #monastic life #Prairie du Sac #Valley of Our Lady Monastery #contemplative monasticism #Wisconsin

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aprisonlovestory-blog · 7 years

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I’ll continue on a bit here...

At fourteen, I looked a bit older then I actually was. Already touching 6′ and my body was filling out nicely. I was young but acted much wiser than my years. I had an arrogance that youth seemed to command, still sure in the knowledge that I had many years ahead of me in which to live my life and possibly achieve a few of my dreams. Life was hard and sometimes unfair but you had to play the hand you had been dealt.

At sixteen, I was working when I should have been in school, I was dressed like a skid, even though how I looked was all-important to me. I didn't’ have too many friends because I couldn't afford to take part in their teenage fun, everything it seemed cost money. I was an outcast among people who were classed as the poorest of the poor. I was trying everyday to build myself up and make something of my life, instead of ending up dead or in jail as my adoptive parents and teachers always told me I would. Sometimes I would want to cry because of the pressure, but I had to force back the tears because I knew, even they were a luxury I couldn’t afford.

I had skipped adolescence and commenced strait to adulthood. I had taken to walking home through the back roads, knowing that I’d be an easy mark for scrappers or thugs. I craved the danger. I wanted to toughen up and be fully immersed in the lifestyle.

At seventeen, years old I already understood that clothes did make the man, no matter what anyone else might think. If you dressed well, spent some dollars and looked cool, people automatically treated you better, which in turn made a difference to how you perceived yourself at the end of the day.

At nineteen, I was beginning to make lots of money, this had been a long time coming and I was going to make it my life's work to prove everyone wrong. I wasn’t always a scrapper but throughout my teenage bits in and out of youth detentions centers, I had been forced to fight and unveil the fact that I was a natural born fighter. It was a fulfilling power, in which I was determined to protect myself and others from those who sought to attack the innocent. They would feel the wrath of my pain for every time I was punched, every kick and every thrashing I’d had received when I was younger. I realized it was easy to hurt people, a gift I assumed I partly inherited from my abusive parents. Most people talked a good fight but very few could actually have one. I was going to make a name for myself that was something other than a lowlife, drunk or a waster/ I was going to make a name for myself that garnered respect. Making a life for myself was my spark. I wanted to live the “good life”. I wanted a place to call my own that I enjoyed going home to, not just a place to lay my head and keep the rain out. I promised myself I would never end up like my parents. I was going to live my life to the fullest. Or die in the fucking process.

I looked in the face of the junkie. I didn’t like him. He had a wonky eye so you weren’t sure if he was looking at you or waiting for a bus to come around the corner. The dark circles and sullen cheeks were bad enough, but he also had the added bonus of dilated pupils and scummy flecks of creamy mucus at the corners of his mouth. “Look man, do you want the fucking things or not?” It was dark, and the night air was damp. I was tired and not about to get into a full scale conversation with someone who could barely remember his own name most of the time. I’d begun to sell drugs roughly six months prior as a way to make extra money, but the amount of addicts and retards that I had to deal with on a daily basis was too much even for the added income I’d accumulated. The crackhead pulled a wad of money from his back pocket and snatching it impatiently, I counted it quickly. I knew it wouldn’t be right, but you could never be sure with meth heads. Especially if the addict considered himself a dealer. I handed over the bag of ecstasy pills, which were in fact short, nearly thirty then the agreed amount, but when you’re dealing him more than two hundred pills, a junkie never notices things like that. Counting the bag of goodies would be beyond him, even if he had gotten his head together enough to attempt it. As the crackhead scurried away, I gave it a few seconds before stepping out of the dark alleyway. I stepped into the bright light of the streetlights, scanning the pavement walkers for anything that seemed suspect. Walking through the junkies milling around, in my coat that looked far more adult than anything else someone my age would be wearing. Most of whom were dressed in cheap sneakers and over sized hoodies. It made me feel a slight stab of sorrow for them, because I know they had no idea about life, their own of anyone else’s. It was at this point, when I realized this was not the path in which I was to follow, as much love as I had for the streets of Vancouver, it was not my calling to prowl them at night in search of added cash. It was time to find a new adventure for wealth. Before this all the legit jobs I had worked were basic labor jobs, I wanted to find something more along the lines of a career. My first attempt was a restoration company called “ABC Restoration”. I loved the work, they did emergency restoration jobs on houses or buildings affected by fire, water or flooding, mold and/or asbestos. It suited my personality great, doing mild demolition work even sometimes wearing a hazmat suit and mask, something I also thought was cool. I was earning good money and loving life, soon after that approximately two years later, business got slow and I was laid off. My next job/potential career choice was at a printing press and I began to aspire to be printing press operator. Now, being in my early twenties, I started to party aggressively. I had worked as a press operator for some time now and earning more money then I ever had before, I began to let loose a bit. I worked four ten hour days, Monday to Thursday, giving myself three days off. During the three days,for roughly 2 and a half years, I partied hard. Mainly frequenting clubs and bars I consumed copious amounts of drugs and in turn, spent a large portion of my savings that I had gathered over the years. In 2011 I got laid off my job at the press from my constant nights of fun, which had slowly started to affect my work. Even though I had a great boss with his relaxed “boys will be boys” attitude towards hungover mornings which granted me some slack, he had finally had enough. I needed a change. A change in friends and a change of location. As luck would have it, the week of my job loss, my youngest brother Jacob messaged me asking if one day I’d ever come visit and that if I did I could live with him. I agreed and four days later I was in Calgary. Being in Calgary gave me a new and different outlook on life. A nice home, with a nice family that supported each other was something I have never experienced before. I actually felt like I belonged, it was what I’d always longed for, but god had other plans for me. Like all good things to ever come my way, this too came crashing down.

It was the night of November 23, 2011. and I had just arrived home after a night of hanging out with some friends. After saying goodnight, I shut the car door and started up the snowy driveway. It had been snowing most of the day, and now at 3 am it was almost a blizzard. walking up the driveway I noticed almost every light in the house was on, which was strange because usually by midnight the house is pitch black. I turned the handle and stepped inside to see my aunt and uncle and a my little brother Jacob sitting together on the couch with tear-filled eyes. Alarms started going off in my head, had they found my weed that I kept in a shoe box under my bed? “Chance” my aunt began, “Its about Zeek.” Panic swept through my body like a wave. My brother Zeek had been staying at my place for the past year, and before I left assured me that he would be OK staying with friends. “Hes passed away.” She continued, no sooner did I hear those words did the sickening feeling of dread come crashing through my body, forcing me to back out the front door. I walked in a t shirt through the blizzard that night with my heart in my throat and the most immense, intense feeling of sadness I had ever felt. My uncle picked me up a short while later, and I began to weep for the first time since I was a child, for my brother, who I hadn’t been there to protect, forcing him into a situation where he would've never had to be in, thus leading to his death. The details regarding his death I would like to remain private.

After my bothers passing I fell into a dark depression, fueled by alcohol I sank deeper and deeper. I blamed myself for what had happened, and though offing myself overnight was not an option, self sabotage was.I cashed in my mutual funds and RRSP prematurely and moved back to Vancouver the summer of 2013. Cocaine, GHB, Ketamine and alcohol were the weapons I began to use against myself in hopes for relief from this life, this life that I desperately wanted to be rid of. The agonizing blame was too much to handle. Although in passing, I would smile and laugh, deep inside the sorrow filled turmoil constantly churned. In 2014 I received a job opportunity to work in northern Alberta, Grande Prairie doing oilfield work. Three months after moving there with my girlfriend that I was with at the time, we broke up, she stayed with her mom and I moved in with some friends from work. The first half of 2015 was like a dream, I was dating the perfect girl, had a great job and a fresh start in a new city. Even my constant blame I felt for my brother began to subside, but like every other good thing to every come way this to would soon be snatched away. It was just after Jenny and I returned from our summer vacation, when things started to turn south. I had heard recently that my older bother James was still harboring resentment for my bothers passing.

This is turn sparked me to make a slide show video with music in memory of Zeek. Old feelings began to return and within weeks I was using drugs and drowning myself in booze. My work started to suffer, and worst of all my relationship with my dream girl also began to feel the pressure of my self sabotage... not too long after I ended up where I’m currently sitting, writing this story from my cell on One Alpha Boot camp. If I can get my trial to be dropped from federal to provincial then it will be this summer of 2017, if not then my trials set for July 4, 2018. I have a multitude of self help books here on our unit that I have been reading, many of the authors with PhD’s. Book ranging from spirituality, mental alertness, affirmations for success and philosophy. Everyday I’m getting stronger and wiser, not just physically but also mentally. I’m meditating daily and can feel my love and awareness for other growing. Although I did what I had to do in order to save two lives, unfortunately taking a life in the process was the end result. I know now I will never put myself in that sort of situation again. And you know, I hope whoever reads this, that you find the love and peace that we each deserve and thank you for taking the time to read my story,

In closing, I leave you with something I call “WAKE UP”.

#mylife #memoir #nonfiction #confession #feelings #brothers #love #loss

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weekendwarriorblog · 4 years

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Why Have Movie Theaters Become So Divisive?

I’m probably going to regret writing about this, but someone has to, so it might as well be me. After all, I’ve only been writing about this for months now, and 90% of the people who have attacked me for my opinion on reopening movie theaters probably have only read a few tweets I’ve made without ever reading a single word I’ve written beforehand for any sort of context.

Most people already know where I stand on this debate, an argument that believe it or not (shocker!) doesn’t have a “right” or “wrong” side to it. You can stand on your high-horse soapbox all you like, but as I’ve said before, movie theaters are no more dangerous than any other public activity when it comes to spreading COVID.

I’m not going to repeat myself over and over but when you compare movie theaters even to outdoor dining, the former offers many more opportunities to see whether they’re spreading COVID (and how to stop that spread) than sitting around with friends drinking, eating and jawing away in close proximity to others. (NYC has had these outdoor dining areas, many which are barely six feet across, open for months now with no huge spikes so...) The thing is that you know where I stand, so you should know that I’m writing this from an extremely biased place, too? Got it. Good. Let’s go on...

What’s interesting and actually kind of infuriating is how what should be a discussion about getting movie theaters reopened safely -- just as it should be about getting movie and television production restarted so there’ll be content when they do finally reopen -- has turned into this huge argument where there are two clear sides: The people who want the option to go to movie theaters to see movies and the people who not only refuse to go to movie theaters themselves until there’s a vaccine, but they’ll spend their time writing long pieces about why they won’t do their movie-related jobs until that’s the case. (Few of them have the excuse of being “high-risk” themselves, let alone being around “high-risk” relatives.)

By the way, I’m going to put this caveat here because I have probably said it 100 times already and oddly, when I say this, people completely ignore it to focus on anything else I may be saying: NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO GO TO A MOVIE THEATER. Got it? Just because I or someone else says that people who want to return to movie theaters should be allowed to do so, if you don’t want to go, then DON’T GO. Half of the non-critics complaining about movie theaters rarely were rarely more than once a month to movie theaters pre-COVID. They are outliers. But don’t start railing against me or others for wanting to have the option to make our own decisions.

Let’s make no mistake. Like everything else in this county, this “debate” is first and foremost a political one. It’s the left vs. the right, the liberals vs. the conservatives, the Democrats vs. the Republicans, and it mostly comes down to a President who is saying to reopen businesses to Democratic Governors saying “Hold on, we have to do this sensibly.” And that last statement actually makes absolute perfect sense, and it’s one I outright agree with, too. Yes, things need to be reopened safely in a way that doesn’t create or elevate the spread of COVID, but why are movie theaters specifically being targeted as the “worst possible scenario” for COVID spread? Especially after I’ve written literally thousands of words stating why that isn’t the case.

The latest development is that Fauci the Fearmonger (as I will be referring to him from now on) was interviewed by actress* Jennifer Garner on Instagram (*I don’t want to demean the profession but Garner, while a lovely person who I’ve met before, is not a doctor or a journalist), and she asked Dr. Fauci about returning to theaters to “see people on stage” and he responded by saying that he doesn’t think that even with a vaccine, people will be safe to return to regular activities until mid-to-late 2021. How does say something like this help ANYTHING? What’s happening is that what Fauci said, which again, is not specifically or directly about movie theaters, is being twisted into something that assholes like Cuomo can now use the next time he’s asked about reopening movie theaters. He’s already made it clear that casinos, gyms and the fucking Mets museum are more important than one of the more popular (and safer!) forms of public entertainment.

But even the support for Dr. Fauci is political because Republicans and even Trump have spoken against him, despite him being the leading and foremost authority on COVID... according to the people who support him. It’s kind of amusing to see how influential Fauci is on the public but he couldn’t convince a number of high-powered officials who he was around every single day the last six months to wear masks, to do something earlier to make sure people knew how serious COVID was? That was his JOB and if you’re going to blame COVID fully on Trump than you also have to blame Fauci because he was complicit and didn’t stand his ground when it came to making sure COVID didn’t kill hundreds of thousands of Americans.

So is this just a matter of a bunch of anti-Trump liberals fighting back against the President? Nope, it’s also a number of people who want to fight back against corporations that are quite desperately trying to reopen. Everyone goes after AMC and Regal and Cinemark and the other big chains for wanting to reopen and you know, not got bankrupt, because they see their desire to reopen theaters as “greed,’ as the big bad corporation trying to capitalize on the poor hard-working moviegoers who are desperate to get out of their house and spend time around other people, even if it’s wearing masks and being six feet apart.... which anyone with half a brain agrees is the best way to put an end to the spread of COVID in a pandemic.

People also have repeated attacked Warner Bros and Christopher Nolan and the movie Tenet itself as the worst offenders of greed... this big powerful white male director flexing his muscles to get his way because he believes in the theatrical experience, and anyone who has backed him on this (including other filmmakers) are similarly attacked. The narrative against returning to movie theaters and sitting at home watching the dozens of streaming networks you subscribe to has been so pervasive so of course, no one is going to want to go back to movie theaters since they’ve been badgered and bludgeoned by the people with a voice who want to make sure people know about “aerosols” and enclosed spaces (even when they tend to have less than 30 people spread out), etc. When Warner Bros. reported the first North American numbers for Tenet and they were lower even than the lowest expectations, the theatrical naysayers were back making their jokes on Twitter and saying, “See? No one wanted to go back to movie theaters, so we were right this whole time!” (Granted, many people out there may not have even realized that movie theaters were open in their region. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen a single movie commercial on television in over six months, other than for movies on streaming services.)

But make no fucking mistake. This whole argument is basically about the haves vs. the have nots. It’s about the people who can afford to own a car and go to a drive-in whenever they please, vs. those who don’t drive and are accustomed to taking public transportation everywhere. It’s about the people who can lounge around at home watching movies on their 70″ (or 80″ if you go by Sam Rockwell’s boasting) television vs. those who can’t afford such luxuries who maybe live in tiny apartments where something like that wouldn’t even be physically possible. It’s about the people who can afford to pay $100+ a month for every streaming service and all the new and old movies they may ever need to watch vs. the people who work hard all week to shell out $15-20 for a ticket to the latest blockbuster in theaters. But more importantly, it’s about the people who literally are delivered every movie they might watch for FREE via digital screeners they can watch at home whenever they want without having to go out in public and be around other people (which I will freely admit, I am one of them!) vs. those who have to pay to see movies and who don’t have some of those other options (which oddly, I am ALSO one!)

So you can see why I might feel a little torn about this debate and how I’ve landed right in the center of it, because I’ve chosen not to shut up and be bullied by the vocal minority on #FIlmTwitter who think they know better than everyone else (and not just on COVID or the reopening of movie theaters either.) I’ve decided that I have gone to enough movies and movie theaters over the past 20 years that I consider myself an expert on the pluses and minuses of being allowed to have that experience. I’m not one of those people who never goes to the movie theaters anymore because of “texting” and “talking” and “lazy underpaid teenager workers who don’t care enough to do their jobs properly.” That last complaint is what has really gotten me riled because it is literally one of the most elitist statements in this argument I’ve heard about why movie theaters can’t reopen safely. They attack the corporations for forcing their employees (who probably need those jobs and money) back to work in a “dangerous environment” even after being told REPEATEDLY all of the safety precautions being taken over and over and over.

The next time someone interviews Fearmonger Fauci, they should ask him when was the last time he went to the movies pre-COVID. For all we know, he is such a germaphobe by nature that he wasn’t a fan of being places like movie theaters for LONG before COVID showed up. I’m willing to bet that he has no concept of the benefits of the theatrical movie experience for those that still believe in it. Due to a few casual comments about a possible vaccine, politicians like Cuomo now have even more ammo about keeping movie theaters closed. Who knows why Cuomo is so hesitant because the only time Cuomo was asked, he was so flippant and dismissive of the idea, that maybe there’s more going on. Maybe he feels that places like AMC or Regal don’t pay their fair share of New York State taxes for some reason, and doesn’t see them as an important part of the New York economy despite the hundreds of millions of dollars sold in movie tickets in New York pre-COVID. Who knows? There’s more going on there than anyone is willing to admit, and until I’m allowed into one of those press conferences to grill him about it, we may never know. All I know is that if you want to know what the PUBLIC, what real people, think of what’s going on. Follow one of Cuomo’s press conferences on Facebook and read some of the comments. People are outright ANGRY with him right now.

Listen, this argument isn’t going away. I’ve already lost friends over this and lost respect for a number of people who I cherish having in my life. Losing some of these friends hurts more than others, but the point is that no one seems to be able to even TRY to agree or see another point of view besides their own. You want peace in the Middle East? Bullshit. We need peace right here in America, and it isn’t the alt-right racist pro-life conservatives who are all at fault here. It’s just as much the people (on both sides) who refuse to listen to anyone who has any opinion ... or religious or political beliefs, for that matter ... than themselves. If you’re not willing to listen (or in my case READ) what others are saying, then don’t come back to me with “Oh, but the aerosols!” or anything else you’ve read in the papers that to be honest, I have read, too. I read a lot, believe it or not.

But I also know that this argument doesn’t have a right or wrong. Your desire to do something that you love doing, whether it’s going to the gym or going out to eat or gambling at a casino or riding the NYC subway system “just for fun” and yes, going to see movies in theaters in a better setting/environment than sitting on your futon watching on your 13″ laptop... that is or at least it should be one of your rights as a human and as an American. Someone who has a car or a 70″ television that allows them to watch with their families (another thing some of us don’t have) shouldn’t be making your decisions for you, and in some cases, bullying you or shaming you for disagreeing with them.

Like I said, this was always going to be a biased piece, but after being attacked repeatedly by people who don’t know me, and don’t know where Im coming from, and worst of all: NEVER READ A WORD I’VE WRITTEN BEFORE RESPONDING TO A SINGLE TWEET I MAKE, forced me once again to put “pen to paper” and address the situation. Hopefully, someone reading this will think, “Hey, you know what? This is a stupid argument. Why am I getting so riled up by someone saying they want to go to movie theaters if they feel safe? Why am I railing against an industry that has allowed me and my family to live comfortably under a roof and allowed me to buy this car and large-screen television?” But that won’t happen. Because the people who need to read this, won’t read this, just like everything else I write. They’ll just wait for me to make a short statement on Twitter and then retweet it with whatever context makes them feel better about themselves and/or makes others think worse of the person having an opinion and standing up for their rights to express it i.e. me.

Because that’s what it comes down to. Unlike that frivolous lawsuit against New Jersey to reopen movie theaters (which it actually has now), this argument is about the First Amendment, and it’s also about people who have been paid way too much money for way too long to be deemed “movie experts” who thinks that makes them experts on anything and everything else.

Look, I have a lot to say on this subject. If I’m ever allowed to be around people again, I’ll gladly have a conversation about it, but I don’t even have that option. I have seen exactly ONE person from the film-writing/entertainment community in the last six months... and I had to take a train out to Connecticut to do so. If screening rooms were allowed to reopen, I’d gladly have this discussion with anyone who can break themselves away from their HDTV at home to actually go out to see a movie that’s projected on a screen, as they should be. Believe it or not, I’m always open for intelligent discussion, but only when it doesn’t involve outright attacks on me, my opinion and where I stand on a subject that I’m quite passionate about... and mostly by people who are too lazy or indifferent to read a word I have to say about movies at any other time of the year with or without a pandemic.

#MovieTheaters

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hopingforbabyblog · 4 years

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Even though this vacation to Nevada has been really relaxing I wish I would have planned it for a couple weeks earlier. The first reason being that this particular January has been exceptionally cold in Alaska, and I wish I would have gotten out of our cold snap sooner. The second reason I feel like I planned my vacation a little too late is the timing of it fell within the crucial three-month window prior to FET. The three months prior to FET are important for building up a thick uterine lining to improve the odds of embryo implantation. I’m not aware of definitive evidence that stress in and of itself causes implantation issues, but I do believe that stress can contribute to poor health decisions (i.e., drinking, smoking, overeating) that can in turn affect implantation.

I tend to get stressed when I travel at times. A delayed flight, waiting in a crowded airport, and squishing like anchovies into the ever-shrinking plane seats are just some of the typical stressors when flying. But now the news is talking about the threat of coronavirus. To top it off both of the airports I went through (Anchorage and Las Vegas) had confirmed cases of coronavirus. I later learned the news seemed to overinflate the actual severity of the issue, using dramatic language that might lead viewers to believe it’s an epidemic, knowing that helped put my mind at ease somewhat. A few years back the major risk to pregnant women and women TTC was the Zika virus. I think if you want to play it as safe as possible don’t schedule a vacation during your three months prior to FET, unless it’s a ‘staycation’ or you are traveling for your actual FET.

Catch-up on Previous FET Prep Posts

FET Prep Week 1: 3.5 months until FET

FET Prep Week 2: Supplements, WTF Email, & Increased AMH Level

FET Prep Week 3: You say Future Tripping, I say Future Planning

FET Prep Week 4: Bad News from SIS Test

FET Prep Week 5: Surgery, Depression & Trip to Nevada

Countdown Until FET: 69 days (as of 02-15-2020)

Taking it Easy

You know the type of vacations where you are go, go, go non-stop with so many activities and you have a specific plan for each day, well I chose not to do any of that for this one and it has been working out pretty well. Although we’ve been busy, it’s been nice to not be the ‘planner’ and to just go along with whatever everyone else wants to do. This vacation, I chose to just let go and take it easy. I’ve been to Nevada a few times before and already saw the major must-see things, so I didn’t feel the urge to create a must-see list this time around. I just let my husband and mother-in-law plan the events.

I think this vacation has been a nice balance of relaxing and also going to different events. It’s nice to go to bed and not have to set an alarm for the morning. It felt like such a luxury to be able to sleep in as long as I wanted. There were only a couple days that were warm enough to be outside in the sun since we’ve been here. It’s been crazy windy, so much so that they actually have a high wind warning in effect. The wind is so strong it sometimes shakes the house. It was kind of funny to see about 40 tumbleweeds whip across the street at the same time. Not a good time to go for a walk and catch a prickly tumbleweed to the face. No thanks. I’ll stay inside until it dies down. It’s also been cold outside most of this week, in the 30s and 40s mostly. I learned this cold snap in Nevada was pushing down from Alaska. How typical, just when we try to leave Alaska’s cold weather it follows us.

This wind is redonkulous! One of the many windy days on our vacation.

Okay this one turned out better, with less wind whipping my hair around.

So although the weather has been crappy most of the week while on vacation, we still had fun doing other things. We saw Shin Lim, the magician, at his Vegas show. Normally I am not into magic shows, but this guy I swear is a true wizard. I saw him on America’s Got Talent, where he showed a card to the camera and somehow was able to make the numbers on the card actually change. Here is his show on AGT where he does that trick at the 20:00 minute mark. How in the actual eff did he do that? I was definitely impressed with his show in Vegas. I won’t give away too many details of the show, but it is definitely entertaining and I highly recommend you go check him out.

I also went to my first Tournament of Kings show, and I nearly s**t myself several times when the pyrotechnics went off. I felt like an idiot with how many times I screamed with each burst of fireworks. You definitely won’t fall asleep with this show, I’ll tell you that! So if you aren’t familiar with the Tournament of Kings, it’s a show where the performers act out a medieval storyline. The audience sits circled around the actors as they have epic battles using swords and also do jousting with real horses.

We did some other cool things on our trip too. We drove to Mount Charleston. I didn’t expect to see snow in Nevada, so that was pretty cool (cheesy pun intended).

Of course we went to a handful of different casinos and tried our luck on the slots. Well, I mostly watched Kurtis try his luck on the slots. I’m not much of a gambler. The first time I ever visited Vegas years ago I had very little money. I would go from casino to casino and sign up for their players club card, where you would get free plays on the slots. It wasn’t worth much, maybe $10-$15 but it was still fun to try it out and not worry about losing money. I did a little of that this time also. I tend to enjoy playing bingo more than slots. The first time I ever played bingo back home I won $1,000, beginners luck of course.

Keeping up with Supplements While on Vacation

I am not being super strict about following a diet while on vacation, although I could have been. I had a very laissez faire approach with my FET prep while on vacation. Although I did try to consistently take my supplements.

Here’s what I did to help me stay on top of taking my supplements while on vacation:

Reuse old prescription bottles for free pill organization.

Take a marker and write on the cap when you plan to take your medicine. For example I wrote “AM” on the ones I take with breakfast and “PM” on the ones I take with lunch. Since I am also taking L-arginine multiple times throughout the day I decided to create my own travel bottle specifically for that supplement.

Set phone reminders to take supplements.

Most supplements for FET prep recommend taking with a meal. But if you are not yet in the habit of remembering to take your pills after you eat, setting an alarm in your phone can be really helpful to make sure you don’t miss your dose. You can remind yourself in other ways like putting a post it note on your mirror or refrigerator. Do whatever works for you.

Keep a snack in your purse at all times.

This snack should be your designated backup in times when you cannot have an actual meal with your supplements. For example, if you are going on a long road trip or flight and you are unsure of when you will be able to have a meal with your supplements, that snack in your purse will help you to stay on track with your supplement schedule.

The Game Changer

I plan on adopting in the future, whether I have a biological child or not. And I’ve considered adopting through the foster care system. But what is one of the biggest obstacles that keeps so many people from starting the path to becoming a foster parent? I’d say it’s becoming attached emotionally to raising a child who after some time ends up going back to their biological family. I can honestly say I am not ready at this point in my life to handle that possibility. I’ve read articles and memoirs from foster parents who say it was one of the most painful experiences of their life. Some said it was as painful as grieving the death of a loved one.

I’ve been visiting my husband’s family in Nevada this past week, and my mother-in-law was a foster parent. I explained to her that one of my hesitations for becoming a foster parent was that I didn’t know if I was emotionally ready to handle getting attached to a child that would end up leaving back to their biological family. But she explained that she learned that some foster parents choose to only foster children whose parental rights have been permanently relinquished, and are therefore adoptable. That right there, was a total game changer for me. I did not even know that was an option. I thought it was inevitable that as a foster parent you had to expect that possible loss, I didn’t realize you could avoid that whole scenario altogether. Now it’s just a matter of finding out if that option is available here in Alaska too. The plan for now though is to continue trying infertility treatments until I turn 35, which is over a year from now.

Mini Victories for the Week

Kept up with supplements while on vacation.

Got more sleep and relaxed more this week.

Asked more questions and did a little more research about the foster care system.

Work in Progress

Contact the Seattle Clinic to find out if I need a repeat SIS before my upcoming FET.

Reduce caffeine intake from 1-2 cups down to less than one cup next week. Eventually completely cut out caffeine sometime soon.

Get back on a 1200 calorie per day diet.

This post may contain affiliate links. You can read the disclosure here.

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FET Prep Week 6: Relax! You’re on Vacation. Even though this vacation to Nevada has been really relaxing I wish I would have planned it for a couple weeks earlier.

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