#'normal' people get a dopamine hit after they finish something to make up for the drop sustained while doing it
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Pulling Teeth
haiiii, i am still working on that au fic buttttt its ended up longer than i anticipated and because of that i wanted to write something shorter just to get that dopamine of finishing something.
this is is a uh- oc x canon fic so sorry abt that, cyril x william, i am so sorry if this is some of y'all's first time ever reading anything about cyril. normally i'm nicer to him. today was not that day.
this fic is literally for no one except myself and like 4 little gay people that live in my phone i won't lie.
warnings: mentions of vomit, blood, implications of drugging and unethical medical procedures, abusive and manipulative relationships, you- you get it- theyre not a healthy couple
The room was freezing yet Cyril found himself drenched in sweat, hands shaking as he pulled himself onto his feet. There was a panging sickness in his stomach as he looked around the barren room, nothing but a mattress stained with blood and something else he was uncertain the origin of on the floor, tucked away into a corner. The tile floor was cold against his bare feet but he didn’t care, stumbling into the hall of the building as he began gagging.
He doubled over, dry heaving as saliva dripped from his lips, little effort being made before he felt whatever contents of his stomach that were or weren’t there be puked up, splashing at the ground as he clung to the wall. Dizziness overtook his senses as he wiped away the vomit on his lips with the bottom of his shirt. With the contents of his stomach emptied onto the floor he felt more of his body seem to come alive, a pounding ache in his head just behind his right eye making his vision blurry.
Stumbling towards the bathroom, he could barely think about anything besides the pain in his head, in his eye. The tremors in his hands stopped being something he noticed as he opened the door, gripping onto the porcelain sink for support as he met his eyes in the mirror. He could barely make out anything besides the dark stain that covered the front of his shirt. It felt impossible for him to breathe as he realized how much of browning stain was still bright red, leaning into the sink he roughly ripped off his shirt.
He wasn’t able to speak before he noticed someone standing in the doorway, barely able to turn his head before the man standing there spoke.
“I didn’t expect you to be awake already.”
His words seemed muffled to Cyril, barely able to make sense of what was happening as he tried to respond, noises barely able to form as he stood there. Though, the moment didn’t last long as a scoff hit his ears, his arm grabbed as he was dragged to the bathtub.
“Sit,” he heard, a command, and so he did. Still looking up at the other, he tilted his head, feeling like he was swimming despite being on dry land.
“You look a mess. Couldn’t even clean that shit in the hall.”
“I was… I was gon-”
“Did I say you could speak?”
That made Cyril stop talking, his skin still feeling tacky from the sweat that covered him. At some point the tap behind him had been turned on, groaning in relief as he felt a rag dampened with cool water against his skin. He closed his eyes, leaning into William, the man who had interrupted him. Though, that didn’t last long before he felt the rag reach his chest, wiping away pooling blood and making him in hiss in pain. Instinctively, he jerked away from William’s hand, whimpering as his wrist was grabbed to steady him.
“Sit still. I’m not the one who reopened the wound,” Cyril heard hissed into his ear, making him grip his knees and accept the pain.
“It still- It hurts.”
There was a moment of silence after such a pitiful statement, Cyril feeling a hand run through his hair, gently parting tangles and scratching at his scalp. The motion was rather sweet for how he was usually treated, barely paying attention to the pain of the injury that spread across his chest. A Y-shaped cut going down to his navel, gently being cleaned yet such care didn’t stop the fact every touch sent waves of electric pain to his head, drowning out any proper thoughts.
Such a mixture of sensations left him almost unaware the other had finished giving him what amounted to a sponge bath. He felt William’s warm hands gently caress his face, a gentle kiss left on his lips.
“I’ll go get you a painkiller,” he whispered to Cyril, simply getting a dazed nod from him before his hands moved off his face, leaving Cyril forced to keep himself steady by himself.
It couldn’t have been much longer than five minutes, if that, when William had left Cyril alone, yet every second that ticked by felt like an eternity. The pain behind his eye, radiating like heat from his chest, his skin burning for the other’s touch once more. Yet, his desperate, silent pleas felt washed away as he listened to the still raging water behind him. Pouring from the faucet like a wound, it wouldn’t wash away what he had been an accessory to. Sins buried into his skin, as if they were always a part of him.
He didn’t notice when William had returned, or perhaps he did and simply chose to ignore it. It wasn’t like the distinction mattered much anyways. He felt his jaw drop as he was told to open his mouth, no reason to argue, several reasons to comply. Even if it wasn’t a painkiller, if it made him stop caring about the pain it was good enough.
The feeling of cold water hit his lips after the pill was placed on his tongue, barely thinking as he drank the almost sweet elixir William poured into his mouth. He could feel himself panting as the bottle was pulled away, whining quietly as if it were some kind of magic cure for his problems.
“Relax, you can have the rest in a second,” William’s tone was still so impatient yet felt so caring to Cyril. Perhaps the pain kept him delusional, as if the person who looked after him was bound to truly care about him. He heard the man’s sentence continue yet it ended up drowned out, no longer paying attention to his surroundings.
At some point he had begun standing, being escorted back to that barren room. At some point that vomit had been cleaned up, that was the only change Cyril noticed about the area. A minute one he only cared about because he had been scolded.
“Go get some more rest, I’ll talk to you in the morning,” he heard spoke to him before he received a gentle kiss against his temple.
The door to the room was shut and locked the moment he managed to stumble in, taking that as his cue to return to the blood soaked mattress kept lodged in a corner. He curled up without a second thought, regretting having woken up so soon.
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“ WE GET HIGH WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM OUR FRIENDS”
Helpful hints for newborn to old fuckers...
Why A Torch Lighter Is Ideal:-Your product liquifies, then smokes, almost instantly
-It is MUCH easier to control the direction the meth flows, as well as what is receiving heat
-You can get MUCH bigger hits
-You can avoid burning it so much easier than with other flames
-No flickering flame
-Butane refills are cheap as fucking shit (I got a hairspray-sized bottle of Zippo butane for the price of 2 disposable lighters)
-Don’t burn your thumb as much
-Sessions can be initiated and/or finished faster
Downsides-If you don’t pay attention, you can burn the shit out of your product, or yourself. BE CAREFUL, PAY ATTENTION, AND BE PATIENT
-Smoke through your stash quicker
-Possibly worse burns because its hotter than a bic
How to smoke meth with torch lighter for beginners:
1)First ensure that your pipe is clean.
Why?
For the ice to smoke properly. DO NOT load fresh product in a pipe with product that has been smoked, burned, or otherwise heated. If you load fresh on top of a still smokable bowl, the new and old will melt/smoke at different speeds/temperatures (can’t remember which is which right now, but I think old smokes faster), ensuing that it is very difficult to evenly heat the product. Then you get spots where part of the crystalized mass liquifies and will move with the flame, but some of it needs more heat, and for me at least, some always gets burned or darkened, and has a bad taste. If you load fresh product in a pipe with burnt shit in there, IT WILL TASTE LIKE SHIT. It will often also not melt/smoke right, AND your new stuff will taste like burnt stuff, which is THE WORST taste in the world (IM0). (FYI-I’ve heard that blowing cigarette smoke through a oil pipe (like you were going to hit it, but exhaling smoke through it instead) removes the taste. I have tried with pot smoke and it didn’t work, but have read many people say that cigarettes work.
How to Clean the Inside of A Pipe-If it is not clean, a very easy method is to fill a microwavable container (like a coffee mug) with 50% water, 50% bleach, and put the pipe (bowl facing downwards) in the water.
-Put it in the microwave for 4 minutes (yes, seriously that long-I tried after 1, 2, and 3 minutes and it didn’t work. May even take 5.)
-Let cool. Once cooled, remove from mug and drain all water.
-Using Q-tips, insert through carb hole and “mop up” the stuff left in the bowl. This may take several qtips depending on the bowl. If there is still black/brown stuff in the bowl, apply more pressure
(be careful not to break the bowl by pressing the q tip too hard on the sphere, OR accidentally pressing on the side of the carb when trying to reach around inside with q tip.) If there is still stuff in there, I have read that small bits of Magic Eraser stuffed in, and manipulated with a pole (like a q tip) work wonders, but also have not tried.
How to Clean the Outside of a PiPE
-Using a wet rag, or balled-up wet paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc, rub the outside of the bowl. This should cause the stuff on the outside to transfer onto the paper.
-If this doesn’t work, steel wool may work.
Handling/Prepping Product
-Dont handle meth by hand. It’s bad for your skin, and little amounts will dissolve. Instead, use:
Ideally: a 7/11 straw (this is a straw whose last inch or so is a scoop, sometimes used for slurpees or w/e those frozen drinks are; these straws I have found to be ideal for handling all sorts of drugs).
Realistically: Normal Straw: Straw been sealed on one end (tape, seal it with flame), and on the other has a 45 degree angle (45 degree is diagonal; if you cut a square in half diagonally, the diagonal line is 45). This allows you to scoop small fragments out of a bag, tin, or other carrying device easily, as the angled mouth scoops up crumbs, especially in corners of bags; while the sealed back prevents any from accidentally spilling.
Size/Shape
-Make sure your product is all of the same consistency. I find it best to use one crystal, preferably large (but not to large). I find the size of a tic tac, or slightly larger, to be ideal. Also, cubic or rectangular is best possible shape IME. I will often break long, skinny crystals because they dont burn as well as more square ones, and broken into small squares, they will smoke more evenly.
-While you can load bigger crystals with smaller bits/shake, I generally find it is best to load similar sized rocks. That is, load all shake, load two or three crystals of equal size, or put one crystal in there (usually a big one).
-If you need to break a crystal into smaller bits to make equal sized crystals (or to make odd shaped crystal more square), place a sanitary, nonabsorbent material on top of/around the crystal (no dollars bills here, printer paper works great.) and either snap it in two, or push against a surface. If pressing, you can use a finger, debit card, whatever, just slowly apply more pressure so you can crush to consistency of your liking. If you crush it all the way, you have shake(aka powder).
Differences Between Methods
Single Crystal (often large): Crystal will slowly lose mass as it melts, evenly becoming a pool (as long as you thoroughly spread it around the bowl).
Multiple Little Ones: If you evenly heat them: Will slowly melt into each other. Will be left with a very spread-out puddle, possibly multiple spread out ones.
If unevenly heated: There will be areas meth of varying thickness, accompanied by uneven melting and probable darkening/burning,.
Shake: Will liquify very quickly; little bits that haven’t yet been heated may go to weird parts of the bowl when you begin twisting, so you end up with tiny blotches and a single large or a few smaller puddles.
Loading Product
-Using straw, scoop your product into the chamber. Keeping upright, grab oil pipe and tilt at an angle so that the carb is pointing sideways, or angled down slightly. This will allow you to insert straw opening into carb before tipping the straw, ensuring you don’t miss the hole and lose any.
-Once inserted, twist pipe (while holding onto straw of course) until carb is once again pointing up. Tap straw to get all the little bits into the pipe (if meth is still sticking, use a scraper of some kind).
-Remove straw, and put pipe on level surface, BETWEEN TWO OBJECTS. THE PIPE WILL ROLL PEOPLE, AND WILL SPILL ALL YOUR GODDAMN PRODUCT AND/OR FALL ON THE FLOOR AND BREAK. UGH!
Now that you have a loaded pipe, ensure that you are ready to begin. Suggestions include
-Water
(lots of it!!) Both meth and smoking dehydrate you, and the more dehydrated you are, the more you will suffer from dental damage and brain damage (neurotoxicity). A large amount of methamphetamine neurotoxicity (and most dopamine toxicity) is temperature-dependent, as it often induces hyperthermia (This is similar to MDMA, aka XTC, Molly, rolls, etc). Water cools your body.
You should be urinating with irritating frequency, and should be voiding clear urine, otherwise you are already dehydrated (unless taking assloads of vitamins or something).
-Music
I can’t even describe how much music enhances the experience of smoking meth. It synergizes well-the meth makes the music sound insane, and in turn the music intensifies the high, making me feel even more intelligent/strong/attractive/cool/special. This is the part of the high I crave, and it rarely occurs (at least with the intensity I like) without music.
-Spare lighter/butane refill
When smoking meth, you are always running out of fuel. The spare lighter is also useful because lighters get really hot when ignited for long periods of time (like when smoking meth) and you can swap them out.
-Wet (but not sopping) rag or bundled tissues/paper towels/toilet paper/etc
This is to set the pipe on when not using it (a hot pipe will burn fabrics, fucking up whatever its on as well as the pipe), and to cool down the pipe after a hit. The pipe stays hot for a while, and if you don’t hit it, drugs are being lost/wasted. If you cool the pipe, it will stop heating the drugs faster (duh). Do not do this immediately after getting the pipe really hot-heat and cold on glass can break it. Wait for it to cool slightly, then use it.
When you use the rag to cool underneath liquified dope, it will emit a lot of smoke while crystalizing I read somewhere that the meth actually vaporizes/produces smoke when it hits cooler surface, but I don’t know the validity of that. I do know that cold makes it smoke more though.
-Salt Water
Swishing and gargling salt water while smoking meth (ie after a hit, and definitely after a session) will help prevent canker sores, help kill bacteria (which will inhibit meth mouth) clear mucus in back of throat (which will build up from smoking ice, and may possibly absorb some of it), and prevent sore throat. Its really easy-just add table salt to water (not too much). Some people say to use hot water, but there is more bacteria in hot water pipes, so I use cold.
-Biotene Products
These are oral healthcare products designed to combat dry mouth. There is an oral gel that you kind of spread in your mouth and coats it to act like a artificial saliva. It tastes kinda bad (not awful) and feels weird, but it beats dry/cracking skin, and is good for oral health. They also make alcohol-free (alcohol makes dry mouth worse) mouthwash that I find makes me produce a bnch of saliva for like 10-30 minutes, which can be helpful. They have toothpaste, but that is only to not irritate dry mouth. Finally, they have oral mouthspray, which is apparently the best, but I have not tried yet.
-Weed
Weed makes meth smoking more fun I find. Its hard to describe. Go slow as you may have negative anxiety reaction
Positioning:
The pipe will need to be twisted back and forth, so for me, I hold it in the middle of the stem between my middle finger and thumb. This allows me to easily roll the pipe back and forth. The carb is facing the sky/ceiling, and I have the pipe slanted, so the bowl is slightly closer to the floor than the mouthpiece. This allows me to put my index finger over the mouthpiece. so that when I first heat up the bowl all the initial smoke (that you will not yet inhale because it is not super thick and you want to build up a good hit) goes up the stem and is trapped by my finger rather than out through the little carb hole (which it will do when the stem is filled with smoke). Finally, it also allows me to use my pinky to cover the carb (I rarely do this because often the carb is hot).
Lighter
[Torch] Lighter is held in the other hand, underneath the dope in the bowl. Adjust your flame to lowest setting (if you can). While initially hitting the bowl, since your mouth is not on the mouthpiece, you can hold the pipe in front of you while you heat to gaug distance between flame and bowl, and make sure the flame is under the drugs. However, once you begin inhaling, you have a much worse view (through the bowl), and it is easy to hold the lighter too close (or far, but usually close), or to have it not even under the bowl. Due to poor depth perception (which I assume is from the drugs), or some visual warping from the curvature of the glass, its really easy to do this, and happens a lot. A mirror is helpful so you can see yourself. Another option is attaching flexible tubing (like aquarium tubing) to the mouthpiece so you can inhale through that while holding the pipe in front of you. This will also enable you to make meth bongs (search it).
Philosophy of Smoking Meth
Meth becomes a clear liquid when heated, then vaporizes into a white smoke. The idea is to heat whatever you placei n the pipe evenly so that it all melts down to liquid, then, by twisting the pipe, spread the liquid all around the bowl, so that it doesn’t stay in a hot place for too long and burn. Once liquified, the pipe can be twisted. This allows you to put your flame ahead of the liquid (think of the liquid chasing the flame), so that once the glass is heated, it will fall/roll down the curve towards your lighter and smoke. As you get close carb, you begin to twist the other way, keeping the liquid following your flame. However, with a torch lighter, you can soon twist the pipe without the flame and the liquid will still run for a while, and when it doesn’t is when you reapply the flame.
Quick Info On Torch Lighters
Torch lighters are very hot, much hotter than bics. Their flame is much more intense, and the heat above is much hotter than a bic. Therefore, you must keep much more distance between your lighter and pipe than with a bic. It will vary according to lighter type, pipe thickness, and especially flame size; but my flame is maybe between 1/3 and ½ of an inch, and my lighter stays 1-3 inches away from the pipe; with me increasing distance the longer its lit.
-Also, you do not heat the bowl with a torch lighter for long periods of time like you do a bic. Once it begins to smoke, quit using the lighter, and only reapply once the liquid quits moving when you twist the pipe. Also, be sure to twist pipe while lighting the whole time with a torch lighter, even if it is slowly. You cannot really get away with heating in one spot for a short period of time like you can with a bic.
Smoking
Premelt:
-Keeping your flame 1-2 inches below the bowl, roll flame in a circle around the perimeter of your product, so the outermost portion begins to liquify. Remember to continue moving the flame.
-As it begins to liquify, begin twisting the pipe back and forth. You want to heat the edges of the product and then the glass adjacent to the edges to make it flow there. However, when reversing the direction of the twist, make sure to heat the inside/middle for a moment as well so that it will melt once the dope bordering it has melted.
-Eventually you will have a puddle of liquid that is mobile-stop heating! COntinue to twist the pipe to spread the stuff around and wait for it to recrystalize (turn back into a liquid). You can speed this up by touching pipe with damp rag/paper towels/etc, but I like to let it cool by itself the first time. Wait for the pipe to cool down-its worth it.
Smoking
(this is assuming you are covering the mouthpiece and have the pipe angled like I mentioned in positioning)
-Now you should have a thin puddle of clear crystals stuff. Once again, heat with flame around the perimeter (much bigger this time, but it will also melt faster now because its thinner). Once melted, it should soon begin to smoke. Cease lighting once it begins smoking a fair bit and continue to twist.
-Because you have your finger over the mouthpiece and the pipe angled, the hot vapor will travel up the stem, and be trapped. Once vapor begins to emerge out of the carb hole, quickly take your finger off the stem and begin inhaling (do this quick because the stem is filled with vapor).
To Inhale:
You do not need to actually suck most of the time. With the pipe angled, simply forming a seal on the mouthpiece is usually enough, and if you have to inhale, do not suck like smoking. Instead, inhale like you are breathing but VERY slowly/softly. It takes very little pressure and the bigger hit you get, the better IMO.
Reheating
Use the torch for very brief periods of time. Once the liquid is moving and smoking agian, stop. You can also use more, but never use less once its burned.
Finishing your hit:
If your lungs are full and it is still smoking, cover the carb and mouthpiece and continue twisting. I like to hold my hits for 4-8 seconds, some say blow out right away, but I dont like that. You can also use a damp rag or damp paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc and wipe the bowl, to cool it down and make the liquid recrystalize faster (dont do this when the bowl is still super hot because it can break it). This will make it smoke a lot for a second so I like to do it while inhaling.
For Experienced Users:I have found the torch lighter to be far superior to the bic. With the bic, I would experience uneven and slow heating/melting. Now, I have almost instantaneous liquification, followed by thick smoke, and as long as I use the torch sparingly, no darkening of product. The trick is to be patient and methodical:
-Use the torch 1-3 inches away from the bowl
-Move it quickly
-“Encourage” the liquid to trael all over the bowl by leading it with the flame
-Use inward swirling movements, especially during the melting phase
-I recommend using single, squareish crystals for this.
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Hi! I really like the weekly updates on writing you post (I’m in favor of adding teasers for upcoming chapters btw). This might be an obvious question, but how you keep track of your progress? Do you log evert writing session, or have a weekly round up? I write really slowly and sporadically, so it’s hard for me to gauge how much progress I’m making. Thanks!
Gosh, thanks!
So, first and foremost, I want to make it clear that tracking my writing both helps my productivity and it makes me feel good. Writing, especially long things, can be sort of a lonesome enterprise, and having some "numbers go up" aspect of it is positive feedback that gives me that sweet, sweet dopamine. For some people, tracking metrics results in stress and guilt, in which case, just don't do it! But I am happy to talk about what works for me!
So, I def do not track by individual writing session. That stressed me out even just thinking about it. 😂
I vary this up a little bit depending on what I'm working on, but I'll use my current project as an example. It's a longform story that I had been working on, on-and-off for a while, but I picked it up in earnest in July. I had about 50k words of disconnected scenes scattered around three Google docs, and a somewhat functional outline, at least for the first half of the story, although it was a little rougher towards the end. The first thing I did was to work on the outline a little more and get that into better shape.
At that point, I started a few Google doc and set my tracker to 0. As you might expect, the early part of the fic was a lot better filled out than later sections. I started at the beginning, and copy-pasted the scenes from one of the three old docs into the new one until I hit a hole. Then I had to fill in the hole before I could move forward. I sort of do this on a chapter-by-chapter basis, where I am allowed to have TODOs (I literally mark things I haven't written with the word TODO because it's easy to use the search function for) within the current chapter I am working on. As I finish each chapter, I make a note in the outline as to how many words it is.
Now, because I have been keeping these sorts of statistics for a few years now, I have a very honest understanding of my own writing productivity. I know what 1000 words feels likes and I know what 10,000 words feels like. After getting about three chapters filled in this way, I said, 'this is going to take me 1-2 weeks per chapter, working at my normal pace.'
Every week, as you know, I do a post on Tumblr, which includes how many words I wrote, and also some stuff about how I felt. I literally just do a Shift-Ctrl-C to get my total word count and subtract the number from the previous week's Tumblr post. These posts are very valuable to me for a couple of reasons:
1) Accountability. I'm more likely to meet a goal if every week I have to own up to how much work I did.
2) Looking back at the week before and saying, hey, what worked? What didn't work? Sometimes I just have bad weeks. Sometimes I hit a piece of sticky writing and my word count might be really low because I re-wrote something sixteen times. It happens. It's okay. The goal is for me to know how I am, because that helps me better set my expectations.
3) Looking forward to the upcoming week. Maybe my kid has a big project due at school, and it's helpful for me to say, "I'm not gonna get a lot done this week and that's fine." Or, I might say, "This week looks clear and I have every expectation of finishing Ch 7 this week" and then I do it.
Setting achievable goals and then consistently meeting them is an extremely powerful productivity skill. I do this in micro, too. I said earlier that it would stress me out to track wordcount per session, but what I do do is I sit down with an intention. If I have a big open section with nothing written, the goal might just to freewheel a little, to get some ideas on the page, to see where it's going. Conversely, I might have three scenes that are almost done, but they lack beginning or endings or they don't flow together properly, and that might be one evening's work. (Which is sometimes, like, 7 sentences, but those 7 sentences can be harder to write than 50 sentences of the freewheeling). I'm not super strict about those per session goals, but it's something to focus on and I meet them more often than not.
A lot of people talk about having a certain time to write every day. I do, because that's just the way my life works-- It's usually about 7:30-9:30 pm, between the times that my kids start their pre-bed wind-down time and when my husband and I watch tv together. This is not 100% writing time-- it's also when I draw or write Tumblr posts and I also just goof off a lot, it's just my free time. I may have other times that I get to write, especially now that my kids are back in school, but I've had this time blocked out for several years now.
Every time I try to describe one of my writing processes to my husband, he makes fun of me, because it turns out to be some bastardized software engineering technique. If this sounds like a pared-down, one-woman version of Scrum, it's because it is.
To summarize:
- I set a realistic goal over a medium length period (two weeks for one chapter)
- I set a mini goal every time I sit down to work
- Every week, I report on my progress, reflect on how the last week went, and think about the week ahead
- I track word count because it's very measurable. How many words I write in a given time period is one measure of "how well I did" but it also gives me a sense of the pacing of the story and how to get the chapters balanced. Different stories are different-- in the one I'm working on, the chapters are 7k-12k each, but in another fic they're 2-4k. There is no right or wrong answer, the purpose is just to have self-knowledge.
Oh, one more thing I do is to keep up with my outline. When I start a new chapter, I look at what I already had written down (sometimes I find things I forgot about). I add any new bullets, because I may have brought up something in the previous chapter that I need to address further. I do a strikethru on any scenes I've already written. I refer to the outline a lot while I'm working on the chapter, and by the time I'm done, the outline reflects every scene in that chapter and an overall wordcount. In the end, I might need to go back and add a scene somewhere, or move some things around, and having an accurate, shorthand overview gives me insight into the overall structure of the story and makes it super-easy to figure out which chapter could handle an extra scene. (oh god. OH GOD. I document my own fanfic. throw me right in the garbage)
I really, really hope some of this was helpful! This probably sounds like a lot of work, but without this kind of structure, I feel really unmoored and it's easy to become depressed and overwhelmed. Doing it this way makes me feel like I know where I am in the journey and I'm able to feel concrete progress every week or two, which is really motivating for me. Good luck!
#writing advice#productivity advice#i am a very cool person and lots of fun at parties#this isn't true at all but i am a great co-worker and a champ at finishing things on deadline
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What You Want
Anon: ...Can I request a Bruce x fem!reader smut, with Bruce having been exposed to sex pollen while fighting a villain during one of his night patrols and reader being Bruce's ward who's been harboring a crush on him, and who decided to help him through the patch? Cue to Bruce facing various dilemma but reader is 100% consenting to help him...
Notes: NSFW I think we can all agree that after part 13 we all deserve some smut. This almost had some Jason phone sex. Almost.
Words: 2,316
Bruce can’t get the image of you out of his head. An hour after patrol, he was still in the cave in front of the computer when you walked back in after taking a shower. A towel was lazily pressed against your breast and hang down only to cover half of your body.
Your skin was highlighted by the artificial light bouncing off of your still wet body, droplets of water were sliding down your curves agonizingly slowly. But what caught his eyes in an instant was the obvious redness of your face.
You were breathing through your mouth and he could see your chest rising and falling. Your eyes were half-open, your lashes damp, your lips quivering when your shivering voice calls out to him.
“Bruce… I think something’s wrong with my body.”
Batman is now standing in the dead center of Poison Ivy’s greenhouse after having just trashed the place from your last patrol. He had apologized before but now he had come back to ask for a favor.
“Fix it.”
Ivy should have expected less formality and more crass. She already knows why Batman is here.
“The only way to get rid of it is by having sex with the girl,” she replies bored, tending to her plants. She would’ve thought the greatest detective on Earth would’ve deduced such a thing from the name alone.
When she doesn’t hear a reply she suspects that he’s left. But she looks to make sure anyway. Ivy’s surprised to find Batman still there and standing… awkward? She laughs out loud.
“What’s wrong? Can’t get it up?”
Batman walks away from Ivy but takes his time on his way back. When he pulls up in the cave, you’re already waiting for him in his chair, a little calmer, breathing better.
“You don’t look happy. I’m guessing Ivy didn’t want to help.”
Bruce tries to avoid your gaze as he moves slowly toward you.
“How are you feeling?”
“Just… embarrassed, I guess.” You laugh. “Did she at least say what it was that I inhaled?”
Bruce purses his lips. As a father figure, he feels he shouldn’t tell you. But as a man constantly in the pursuit of truth, he does. “Sex pollen.”
You feel the heat rise up to your cheeks coming from the depths of your core. “Wh-what?” you say nervously, trying to mask it with some laughter. “Has Dick or Jason ever been hit with this thing? What did you do?”
Bruce coughs, visibly uncomfortable. “Not to my knowledge but if they did--” he pauses.
If they did? They would’ve gotten rid of it on their own…Bruce wouldn’t know.
An awkward silence stands between you. “Bruce,” you say out loud but your lips are quivering and you can feel the heat traveling to the tips of your fingers. You reach out to try and tug back his cowl.
But the moment freezes you. Are you willing to risk this step? You may be drugged up on sex pollen but once you make this move, there will be no turning back.
You take your hand back instead and try to hide your nerves with a chuckle. “I guess I’ll call Dick and ask. Goodnight!”
You jump up from the chair and swiftly kiss Bruce on the cheek, something you’ve always done, but when you’re pulling back this time, it feels as if time has slowed down, tempting you to take his lips next.
You clamp your mouth shut and quickly leave the cave, your heart is pounding as you rush through the manor to reach your room. Quickly, you lie in your bed and grab your phone. Your finger hovers over Dick’s number.
You can’t actually call Dick about something like this. It would be too awkward.
You dial Jason instead. It only rings twice before he answers.
“Good evening, my favorite bird.”
Jason’s teasing voice suddenly riles up your insides and you suddenly can’t think straight again.
“Sex… pollen.”
When Jason heard the first word, he didn’t know what to expect. After hearing the whole thing, he almost choked.
“Give me five minutes to wrap this up. Then I’ll call you ba--”
Jason doesn’t even finish his own sentence before he hangs up. There was a sense of urgency in his voice and you mentally hit yourself for not thinking that he might be on patrol. Of course, he would be on patrol. Jason never takes a night off.
When your phone rings, the vibrations it made on your bed reminds you of your current predicament.
“Are you lying down?” is the first thing Jason says before you could say hello.
“Y-yess…”
“Fuck. You’re already shivering. Okay, Y/N. You just gotta do as I say, okay?”
“Mm.”
“You gotta touch yourself.” Your eyes widen at his order. “How many hours has it been since you’ve been hit?”
“I… I don’t know. 3 hours?”
“Okay. Fairly normal. You still have some control. And I know you’re sexually active so--”
“Jason!”
“Don’t worry I don’t judge. Also, you’re not very good at hiding your string of lovers all over Gotham.”
You close your eyes and bite your lips. This is not how you expected this conversation to go at all.
It’s not like you actually had sex with them. You just wanted to forget Bruce. Forget you’re his ward and forget that you’re in love with him. Whenever the touching started, you would always imagine it’s his hands caressing your body and his lips roaming your skin. But the moment you open your eyes, you feel repulsed and you run away.
“Y/N, you still there?”
“Ye--… yeah.”
“Like I was saying you, sex pollen gets worse the longer it stays in your body. It takes away inhibition-- like alcohol-- but these are spores that settle in your system--”
“Ewwww.” You sit up suddenly because that information is enough to put your inhibitions back up.
He chuckles, “Right? Anyway, it’s weakness is dopamine. Just flood your body with it and you’ll be all good in no time.”
“So it doesn’t… necessarily have to be sex?”
“Nope. When people’s inhibitions are low they resort to their primal instincts and everyone’s most primal one is mating. But from experience...” you wait and when Jason finally speaks again, he’s fake whispering. “A good lay after patrol really takes the edge off.”
You want to groan and cuss at him but his low voice is only making you wet.
“Jason… can you… pretend to be Bruce for me?”
Jason knows about your crush since the first day Batman brought you to the cave. You were shocked and terrified and you would not let go of his cape. It got to the point where Bruce had to lie in bed with you, in his suit, until you fell asleep. Even then, your sleeping form wouldn’t let him go.
He and Dick thought it was just a phase everyone goes through every time they first encounter the magnitude and safety emitted by Batman’s presence. But the more he watched how you handle yourself around Bruce, as Batman and as himself, the more your infatuation had evolved.
“It doesn’t have to be him, Y/N. It’s just mastur--”
“Jason… please.”
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. When he first confronted you about your crush and he became your only confidant, he never expected to be put in this kind of situation somewhere down the line.
He coughs and puts his hand over his phone. He practices a few times before he finally speaks again, as best he can, adopting Bruce’s voice.
“Y/N.”
You feel guilty. You’re biting your lips and closing your eyes because you know this is wrong. Unfair to Jason. Not enough for you. And completely an injustice to Bruce.
But you can’t help it. You can already see Bruce’s eyes looking down at you, his muscular body hovering over you, built shoulders trapping you, and his knees caging your hips. His eyes are glazed over and his jaw is tight, clenching his teeth.
You reach up to touch his face and your eyes widen when you come in contact with skin.
“Bru--”
His hand covers your mouth gently and hushes you, blowing hot breath on your cheeks.
“Y/N, want me to keep going?”
He takes his hand away and takes your phone. He places it near your mouth.
“I... I’m good now, Jason. Thank yo--”
Bruce hangs up the phone and throws it on the floor.
He’s no longer touching you in any way but his body is still hovering over you. When you look at him, his face is flushed red, sweat dripping down the sides of his head, and his eyes are narrowed and staring at you. “Bruce, you’re...”
“Some of it got on me… when I helped you.”
The pollen had fallen on you when you crashed into Ivy’s greenhouse. Batman quickly made sure you were okay but you had already inhaled some of it. You suddenly remember coughing as he helped you stand up.
“You-- you want me?” you couldn’t help asking. He had come from Ivy’s greenhouse, he could have tracked down Selina, could have called any one of his past lovers, but right now, he’s with you.
You watch Bruce’s eyes narrow, “I… I… What am I doing…”
Bruce starts to lift himself off but you grab his arms to keep him there. “It’s okay--”
“I’m taking advantage of you.”
You shake your head, “Bruce, I consent. I want to do this-- I want to do this with you!”
His eyes narrow, full of disbelief, “That’s the pollen talking--”
“No-- it’s me. I’ve always--”
“Don’t,” he interrupts you quietly, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t say it.”
Your wide eyes shift around as you try to understand him. “Why not?” you whisper.
Bruce knows. Of course, he knows. How could you have been so stupid to think you’ve hidden this so well, or underestimated Batman and thought you could hide it at all.
You purse your lips and you glare at the impossible man above you. “I want you, Bruce. I’ve always wanted you.”
Bruce’s eyes widen and they search your face for any hint of a lie, a forced confession brought on by the pollen. But he couldn’t find any.
“Okay.”
You stare at him with disbelief but your hands are already reaching up and wrapping around the back of his neck. “Just okay?”
You pull him down and he lets you. His lips hover over yours and you stop breathing.
“Y/N.”
His voice. His own voice. The husky sound that crawls on your skin and invades your body.
As soon as Bruce kisses you, the pollen takes over.
Your hands are gripping each other’s bodies. Fingers and nails digging into the skin. Hips pressing against each other. You’re getting wetter and Bruce is getting harder.
He sits up and quickly takes off his shirt and his pants. You don’t have to time admire his naked form because he’s already undressing you. You’re almost surprised by how quickly and expertly he does it. But that’s not what you want to focus on right now.
Before Bruce can take over, you want to make a claim. You sit up only to bend over and take his cock into your mouth. The sudden feeling of warmth and wetness makes Bruce grip your shoulders, veins popping out of his arms as he controls his hold and his desire to buck his hips hard.
You take your time tasting him, sucking on him, and playing with him using your tongue. Every time you press the tip of your tongue against the head of his cock, his fingers dig deeper into your skin.
When you hear him growl, you finally release him with a popping sound that vibrates in the silent room. Before you can look up, Bruce pushes you down against the bed. His eyes are wide open and he’s baring his teeth. You’ve never seen Bruce on the verge of losing control.
You touch the side of his cheek, “Bruce. I want this.”
You watch his face soften for a millisecond before the face of an animal returns. But his features are much tighter now. More in control.
“Turn around.”
Bruce controls himself and lets you flip your body over without his help. But as soon as your forearms are supporting you, he grips your hips and you can feel his hard cock against your pussy.
You’re soft and wet and Bruce grunts as he enters you. When your warmth completely covers him his nails dig deep into your skin, making you flinch and release a long moan as the pain and pleasure diffuse each other.
You smother your head into the sheets and bite through it. Bruce is fucking you without reservation, reaching all the way inside, making your hips slam against the mattress. The tighter you get, the faster he moves, hungry and relentless.
You grip the sheets. “Bruce--!”
Suddenly he stops. The sudden pause lets you catch up with your breath and relax your heartbeat but it’s also making the blood rush to your head. Before you can say anything, he slowly pulls out and gently turns you around so he can look at you.
He looks different. There’s no more hunger there, no more frustration, the pollen has worn off. You stare at him frozen, afraid of what he’ll say next.
But Bruce doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he bends down and kisses you. Gentle. Long. Meaningful. When he pulls away a few inches, his eyes are hooded over and his voice is low and soft.
“I want to see you.”
Bruce watches your eyes glaze over as you slowly take in his words. When you nod, he kisses you again. This time when he enters you, there’s no more pollen to demand it. It’s just you and him.
✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧
#requested#Bruce Wayne#Batman#Sex Pollen#DC imagines#DC fanfiction#DC reader insert#Bruce Wayne fanfiction#Bruce Wayne imagine#Bruce Wayne x reader#Batman fanfiction#Batman imagine#Batman x reader#watchtower-feed
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thanks, it's the mania
I'm pretty sure I'm hypomanic right now. I'm bipolar; most people know the 2 extremes of those poles, severe depression and abject psychosis. Mania is below psychosis, hypomania is like Mania Lite, then there's "mixed states" where you have symptoms of both depression and mania at the same time. Anyway.
I like to make birthday/xmas presents for the very few close people in my life. I'm talking painstaking realistic portraits of a dog from the background of a friend's FB profile because she hasn't posted any other pics of her.
My best friend in the world, Connor, who lives in Toronto (2h away) and I see maybe 3-4 times a year, was coming home for labour day.
I've had some shit going on that meant I had delayed the main present I was making for him until this week, thinking labour day was next weekend.
Then, Thursday night, I realized I was wrong, and Connor would be here at noon Sunday. I had to make a decision: bite the bullet and forget about the gift, or bite the bigger bullet and spend the next 72 hours putting in insane amounts of work for a project that might not even come out very good.
I decided I really wanted this to get made, and for him to see it before I don't see him again till Christmas.
Sorry for waiting so long for the reveal. It's a card game. Hope it was worth the build-up.
I've made games before - card, board and video. I'm good at it, and it's a very satisfying result to play a game with a friend that you personally made.
So when all my roommates played a game called Gloom last week, I knew I loved the concept but hated the execution. I could do it better, and change it up enough to make it an entirely new game. It's called Casting Call. It's pretty hard to explain but I'll try.
Basically your job is to "write" a reality show. You're dealt 5 "cast members" and use "drama cards" to construct their stories throughout the show. Play the "lost an ally" card on Jane for minus strategy and luck points. But the thing is that in order to play that card, you need to tell the story of how she lost that ally, and if any other cards/stories have been played on her, it all has to flow together.
Anyway, I've never undertaken such a huge project with so little time, and I had to work 5 hours today. I knew as soon as I sat down to crunch this fucker out by Sunday that I needed to Optimize The Machinery.
I wrote macros and shortcuts for programs to make writing, printing, cutting and sealing 85 cards across 5 categories as seamless as possible. I started at 9pm Thursday, and buy 9pm Friday with 4 hours of sleep, I was so close to being done.
I had neglected a lot of tasks so I took 3 hours to do that, relax a bit, and then suddenly remember I'm missing 15 cards. So I worked from 12pm to 3am to make those. I finally went to sleep at 4am Friday with nothing left to do except the packaging/box and to write out the rules. I could do that in a few hours after work.
Well, I overslept, barely made it to work on time and had some chores to do when I got home. When I started working, I was already exhausted, but I knew I wouldn't be likely to get much if any sleep again that night.
Then Connor said that the trains weren't running that day and he'd come visit next weekend instead and I almost collapsed from relief.
I know it sounds completely insane to do what I did. For a fuckin card game.
But it's really, really good, and I loved every minute of making it, and I know it would've been worth it to see Connor laugh at the funny cards and appreciate the subtle inside jokes we have.
It's not like he could take the game home and play it with anyone else but me and maybe our friend Casey if we explained some of the references. But I've made him another game, and whenever he visits he always brings it to play with me.
I don't own many board games myself, because they're expensive and I don't have a lot of friends, and the friends I do have to play board games with "just don't get" Cards Against Humanity. We play mostly Catan-like games and Harry Potter Trivial Pursuit which is over in 5 minutes because every one of us knows every single answer.
But Connor loves every game I've made him play. He was so resistant to Trivial Pursuit for years until he played it, loved it, and proceeded to kick my ass at it for the past decade.
I was relieved to hear he was postponing his trip, but honestly, I would've stayed up all night tonight to finish it, and it would've been worth it.
Not sure why I wanted to write about this; it's just not really something I can tell people. When my coworker asked why I was so tired today I couldn't exactly tell her this essay of a reason, and saying "I worked 20 hours straight on making a card game that only one other person on the planet would enjoy playing with me". I said I didn't sleep well.
I get to have a normal night's sleep tonight and do some other shit tomorrow, but then I'll be back to finishing it up. Looking forward to that dopamine hitting when I open the box to my new game.
Stay Greater.
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Snowdrop Part 7
So y’all can tell where my brain is since this is the only thing I seem to be able to write right now 😂😂😂. This chapter is dark, but there’s a special guest star! Usual content warnings for this piece apply. Enjoy! Master list is here.
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Task wise, this may have been his least favorite mission, for a multitude of reasons, really. Not the least of which was just how many corpses he had to deal with. It may have been a mark of how truly a cold bastard he was, but Bi-han preferred making corpses to dealing with them. This one was requiring quite a bit of transportation and handling of the dead, which was made easier with his ability to freeze the bodies, but was never the less as unpleasant as it sounded.
The other matter was his slow growing realization for what this mission was ultimately going to mean for him and quite a few others within the Lin Kuei. He wasn’t stupid, the only reason to be so dedicated to this unique brand of research was to use it to “improve” the clan members. What he was still figuring out was the extent of which these improvements were intended to be put in place, but the more time he spent guarding and aiding the unpleasant waste of human the scientist was, the more he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy the answer.
If it weren’t for you, as complicated as you were making things, this whole situation would be his least favorite thing he’d ever done. Matters with you were becoming more and less complicated, after all he was standing there staring at the face of your former boyfriend seconds before it was to be cremated and mixed in with the ashes of a father and family man. If he had more morals he’d be offended for the poor fuckers family that he was going to have to spend eternity in an urn with a woman beater. He didn’t care though, it mattered only in so far that it meant that no one was ever going to find your ex again. There was even some grim pleasure he took in knowing the various indignities the corpse had to endure while under the unpleasant care of the scientist. He knew you wouldn’t enjoy that the way he did, even if you deserved that vengeance.
This was why you were complicating things, because even while the situation was on its way to being finished with, you were now invading his thoughts during his mission. He was a man who could compartmentalize almost anything, he could stuff the admittedly limited feelings he felt about his situation and life to the side and deal with what was at hand. Yet, you were the thing that was proving hard to keep from his waking thoughts. He knew the truth was simple, he enjoyed thinking about you, that little flood of dopamine and the image of your face or sound of your voice was keeping him hooked. Not enough that he was suddenly finding it difficult to do his tasks, but enough that he knew he could risk making a bad decision regarding you eventually.
That didn’t change anything though, he’d made a promise that he’d take care of you until he was done here, and he fully intended to keep his word to you. Right now, though, he was dealing with the strange sensation of wanting his least favorite mission ever to last as long as it possibly could. For everyone’s sake he hoped it would be over soon, and he hoped that whatever the Grandmaster had planned for this cybernetic experimentation wouldn’t cost him everything.
---
Kabal hated having to work these sort of cases. The kind where you have to investigate on behalf of the worse sort of person, the type that no one really cares that they’re gone in the first place. It was hard to picture anyone shedding a tear for a man with more arrests for beating up on girlfriends and being drunk and belligerent in public than he had hairs on his head. He was the sort of just successful enough that he could get away with it, but not enough that people were actively covering for him. Only his boss, seemed to have anything nice to say. That fit the sort though, kissed up to the people above him while stomping on the people below. It became clear that he was a man with an “uncontrollable” rage that never seemed to be a problem around his superiors or clients.
Still though, he had to investigate, even for assholes. He had just stopped coming into work and couldn’t be contacted in anyway. His credit cards weren’t being used, and there were no massive recent withdrawals. If he did just up and leave he did so quickly and in a panic. So he started where it made the most sense, he headed over to the potential victims home. Not before he did his due diligence on who he was dealing with though.
He’d combed through all the police reports, saw all the pictures and read all the interviews and descriptions. He’d tried calling the number they had for you, but no answer. The concern was present from this being a single missing persons case to something along the line of a murder-suicide. However, that was pure conjecture until he had more information. When knocking on your door produced nothing, he immediately moved onto the neighbors. It was honestly no small relief when you opened the door, though it took a second to recognize you. The pictures he’d seen were not you at your best.
“Lucky me, just the person I was looking for,” he said with a half smile, not that he’d ever voice this outloud but he’d much rather you be the murderer than the victim. Nor did he automatically assume you were responsible for it, after all this man was liked by so very few. Still statistics weren’t in your favor, but you had enough evidence and reports that someone in your case could probably plead down to a much lesser charge, even if it was premeditated. At least that was true in this county, other places wouldn’t be so kind.
“What the fuck?” You looked surprised, and it hit him just how weird that was for a stranger to exclaim excitedly, especially because he was in plainclothes. So he put on his best, charming and apologetic smile.
“Yeah, sorry,” he said as he started rifling through his pockets, “didn’t mean that to sound as creepy as it did.” It didn’t take him long before he had his badge out, which he held up for you to see. Not the quick flash of the movies, he wanted to make sure you saw who he was. Your jaw clenched a little, brows furrowed, definitely a reaction but not one that meant anything meaningful.
“I saw your picture in some files I pulled for a case I’m working on. Got a few minutes to talk?” He asked still smiling, and avoiding the cop tone.
“This isn’t my apartment, and the renter isn’t home, so it would be rude for me to invite you in,” you said it with a sarcastic hint of malice and he was surprised you didn’t just slam the door. From the way you held onto the corner, it was clear you debated it. The uncertain nibble on your lip told him you were torn about how to handle this. So he kept with the calm casual voice and hoped that would encourage you to talk a little more.
“That’s fine, we can go back to your place, that’s it isn’t it?” He asked and pointed at the next door over. You leaned out the door and looked, and he could tell from your expression you didn’t want to be in there. Which meant he really needed to see what was in there.
“I was hoping you’d let me look around anyway, so we can kill two birds with one stone, and then I can be out of your hair,” he put a little more pressure in his tone, and hoped the suggestion of him being gone soon would encourage you to comply. To his surprise it did.
“Okay, fine,” you said, and ducked back into the apartment to grab your keys. While you walked over to the apartment, you both properly introduced yourselves, and he explained exactly what he was doing there. Not that you needed him to say it, it was obvious you knew who he was looking for.
You held the door open for him, something he wouldn’t usually accept. Normally he’d make it a point to hold the door for others, but the way you looked into the apartment told him this was not a gesture of courtesy. No, you really didn’t want to be in there. So he went in first, and watched you from the corner of his eye linger outside the door for a brief moment before coming in. After he got the relevant permission to start looking he made it a point to avoid staring at you too hard while he looked around. It was a little dusty in spots, but otherwise clean, like you hadn’t been there in a while.
“Can you tell me about the last time you saw him?” He asked as casually as he asked everything else, while he glanced around for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. This was far from a full sweep, he’d have been here with a warrant and more officers if that were the case.
“It was maybe a month ago, I guess. We had a fight.” Your arms were crossed over your chest, and you were rubbing your shoulders like you were trying to comfort yourself, and he realized he might have misunderstood your apprehension over being here.
“Was it-“
“Violent?” You cut him off with a dry tone, but a pained look in your eyes.
“Like I said I saw you pictures from the file,” the second the words left him, he regretted it. That look on your face, like something deeply personal had just been violated. It must have been a special kind of terrible knowing there were strangers who had seen you that way, in the worst moments of your life.
“Yes it was,” you said a lot more quietly, so he shifted his tone to something much gentler as well.
“Why didn’t you call it in?” He asked and straightened up so he could address you directly. You let out a cynical scoff, with an eye roll so high he knew you were using it to keep back a few tears.
“So that he could make bail the next day, come home and be twice as mad? Been there, done that.” The frustration in your voice spoke to a helplessness. He really hated these sorts of cases, not just because the victim most definitely deserved what he got(whatever that was), but because there were a lot of people that got left in the wake that he just didn’t have the ability to help.
“You know there are-“
“Yes I know about the hotlines, the crisis centers, the restraining orders, and shelters and blah, blah, blah,” again you cut him off, you sounded so bitter and angry that he knew better than to push it further. But then something flashed in your eyes, a little bit of an apologetic expression before you pulled cigarettes and a lighter out of your purse. You stared at him with those eyes for a moment before lighting one up, and even though you didn’t verbally offer it, he did accept your apology for snapping.
“Didn’t think there were many apartments that let people smoke in them anymore,” he said, choosing not to acknowledge the awkwardness and letting the unpleasant moment pass.
“Oh it’s not allowed, but my landlord is going to try to keep my deposit anyway, so...” you shrugged and puffed on your cigarette for emphasis. Then flicked off the ash on the carpet, a little act of disrespect for a lot of things, he figured. He remained quiet for a few moments, a little breather during a difficult discussion before he got back to business.
“So you two were fighting, what about?” He asked and went back to his fruitless search, he was even pawing through some old mail on the counter for anything overdue to indicate he may have had a reason to leave on his own accord.
“He was jealous, I’d been hanging out with a neighbor a lot, we were friendly,” he stopped looking through the mail long enough to shoot you a little look.
“The one whose apartment you were in?” He asked using a neutral tone.
“The very same,” you said, and then immediately realized you should clarify, “I wasn’t cheating. Kinda wish I had been, to be honest. Is that incriminating?” You said it like you were teasing him. He wasn’t sure he entirely believed you, and it definitely put another player on the field he wasn’t originally aware of.
“So what happened then?” He tossed the envelopes back down and leaned against the counter to watch you for your responses
“I told him to leave and he wouldn’t, so I left. Went to the neighbor’s, half because he’s a big strong scary looking guy, half because I knew it would piss him off. We grabbed a couple of drinks so I could calm down, and when I came he was gone. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.” Well, now you had a convenient alibi with another possible suspect should this turn into a murder investigation.
“You didn’t think to report him missing?” He asked point blank, letting how suspicious that was clearly seep into his voice. You blinked for a moment, looked at the ground and took a shaky breath.
“I’ve honestly just been trying not to panic thinking about what’s going to happen when he comes back, even being in this apartment is fucking my brain up,” you said quiet once more. His brow furrowed, it was a good explanation, and you were clearly upset here.
“It’s... like I’m staring at a museum dedicated to my fucked up life. Like none of this stuff is really mine, it’s all just replicas. The attachments gone, but I’m just so bitter about it. Almost like one of those out of body experiences.” You were no longer talking to him, not to anyone really. You had a distant look on your face, it made him uncomfortable. You had left something out of the story, something that made it much worse than he’d pictured, but he wasn’t going to get it out of you when you were about to disassociate.
“Do you want to wait outside while I finish up? I won’t be long.” He rubbed his brow, this was going to be a pain in the ass to follow up on. There was nothing suspicious enough here to get a warrant and tear the place apart, and you’d given him nothing but more questions.
“Thank you,” you said, and it sounded like you meant it. Even though he was pretty certain that there was nothing to see, he never the less crossed the t’s and dotted the i’s thoroughly before he left the apartment himself. As predicted, nothing of note, nothing suspicious, nothing out of place enough to cause concern. Of course, you said something violent had happened here, and there was no indication at all of that. Frustrating. It was frustrating.
When he exited to the hall outside your room, he found you there with who he could only assume was the neighbor. When you’d described him as a big, strong, scary looking guy, that was not what he’d pictured. He was expecting tattoos, or a meathead looking guy, the kinda guy that made suburban moms cross the streets. This man was something else entirely, something that made his instincts flash with warning. Not his cop instincts, the ones from his Black Dragon days. He was intense and the air around him felt cold, as cold as the look he sent Kabal when he approached. In that moment Kabal knew they were never going to find the victim. He didn’t know if you were involved, but he was positive you weren’t guilty of murder. The man however, probably had more than a few of those under his belt, and he would bet a lot of money they’d never find any trace of your ex.
“Are you just about done here?” He asked his voice remarkably free of any emotion. He didn’t sound agitated by Kabal’s presence here. He likely had no reason to, especially with how thoroughly he’d removed any trace of conflict from your apartment. His hand was on your back, though if he was comforting you or making a clear mark of territory was unclear.
“Yeah, I think I can cross this off my list for now,” Kabal said pleasantly, though he didn’t particularly care for this turn of events.
“Good, I need a drink,” you said and took a long inhale from a brand new cigarette you were working on. He didn’t know exactly what the relationship was between the two of you, if this man was a danger to you or just to other people, but Kabal could see a potential future disaster.
“Careful with that,” he said gesturing to the cigarette, “you don’t want to trade one bad habit for another.” He said it playfully enough, but made it a point to look at your “friend”. The growing frown on your face meant you had at least caught his implication. He started to walk away but made a little show of turning around and pulling out his card.
“Oh and, if you think of anything, or hear from him,” he said and deliberately made eye contact with you, “or need any help, you can call me directly.” He offered you the card, and you took it with reluctant fingers. You stared at it for a moment, and he had to hope you intended to keep it on the off hand chance his dark prediction came true.
“Have a good day, officer,” the man said still sounding unmoved by any of this. He shifted his arm around your shoulder you to guide you back to his home. Kabal didn’t feel especially good about watching you leave.
#mortal kombat#mk#bi-han#bi han#angst#snowdrop series#reader insert#tw domestic violence#tw abuse#dv mention#abuse mention
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(I wrote this email to my grandmother, aunt, and uncle last week and felt pretty good with how it turned out so decided to publish it here.)
Friday, May 1st, 2020
Coucou !
I’ve been wanting to write you for a while now, I even started a draft and wrote about ¾’s of it, had to stop to make dinner, and then never finished it. Maybe I was overthinking how I wanted to get the writing perfect when I should’ve just sent something to say hello, give you an update, and check-in that all was well with you. Mieux vaut tard que jamais.
How to describe everything and nothing that has happened since mid-March? Both on a personal level and on a “what’s the situation in France” level?
Personally, I’ve been cooking, both familiar recipes, and trying new ones such as Chickpea Curry, Mushroom-Stuffed Eggplant, One-Pan Wine Braised Chicken with Artichoke Hearts, Shakshuka, Spanish Tortilla, Roasted Red Pepper Cheese Toast, Peanut Butter Chile Sauce drizzled over broccoli and rice, Butternut Squash & Shallot Hash w/Poached Eggs, and a couple others. Let me admit, some were successes, others...will have to be adjusted and reattempted. Not to mention there are days when not having a dishwasher gets to be exhausting.
I still have multiple school projects that I have been working on, both group and individual. My classes were already supposed to end mid-April even before this all started, so it didn’t change much and most classes didn’t have any online classes, as the projects were more important and already put in place. I have three more to turn in before grades are due mid-May, and now the first part of my thesis is due one month later, at the end of June. Productivity has been difficult, as there are days that I feel like I need to do things for me, rather than sitting on my computer switching between reading the news and trying to do school work, but I’ve gotten a little better at it. My job, checking guests into apartments, and working in the office, is obviously non-existent, and likely will be until at least September, but because of the government's chômage partiel or temporary/partial unemployment of over 10 million people in France, I’m still getting 90% of my salary, which I am very thankful for.
What I have been doing for pleasure these days is listening to podcasts, my favorite being Spilled Milk, which I discovered in September when I was doing the grape harvest, a comedy show about food recorded in Seattle. I was taking a photograph or two a day with my dad’s 1984 Minolta 35mm film camera but ran out of film and can’t find a viable way to get more. I’ve been reading every day, finished two books so far, and have started a third. We’ve been watching movies and TV shows, such as Breaking Bad, the Jason Bourne trilogies, Charade, Star Wars, and others I’ve put off watching until now. Something I never thought I would do was a virtual dance/fitness classes but they have been a great source of dopamine and just physical movement. There are also weekly video chats with either Benjamin or I’s friends, which has been especially nice when we can reunite multiple time zones all in one call. My friend that works at Politico’s audio department asked if I’d be interested in recording an audio-diary twice a week as part of a project they’re working on of different people’s experiences during lockdown so I’ve been contributing to that (though not sure what’s become of the project so far). The most coincidental thing that has happened to me during confinement is changing the channel on the TV maybe the second week into the lockdown, as the Prime Minister’s press conference was ending (otherwise we hardly ever watch the TV), to a different channel only to see someone that looked vaguely familiar, and then see the street we live on. We soon figured out the people across the street we had seen filming once or twice were making a documentary on the lockdown. I contacted them after we finished watching the episode and they asked if I was interested in being interviewed. So that happened, haha. I don’t believe it’s possible to stream the episode outside of Europe so I’ve included the video here, it’s in English.
There are of course the daily musings outside the window to see what the neighbors across the street are doing or what is happening on the street below. Avenue de Saint-Ouen has calmed since this all began but it still is busier than I would’ve expected, both with cars and people, not resembling photos you may have seen of an eerily empty Paris. Sundays are the exception, when I can almost clearly hear what someone is saying on their balcony across the way, where the joggers' loud steps hitting the pavement echoes as they try to reach home before their 10am curfew, and the church bells ring telling us the time. The typical characters I can see on their balconies every day include the bald man that drinks his cup of coffee while smoking his morning cigarette, the retired man on the top floor that tends to his potted herbs that dangle over the balcony railing, or his neighbors that have two young boys that run back and forth. The weather has been clearer than any Parisian spring I’ve seen and the temperatures even got to the high 70’s last week but have now dropped and the clouds are back. We are allowed to walk for up to one hour within a 1km radius of our address, as long as we have a form, now available to download on our phones, filled out, otherwise there can be fines, though I have only seen police officers stop people twice.
So what is the situation in France right now? As of Thursday night, 24,376 people have died from Covid-19 in France, 26,283 people are currently hospitalized (551 less than the day before) and 4,019 are in the ICU (188 less than the day before). On May 11th, the lockdown will be lifted to a certain extent, but many restrictions will still be in place. Starting May 7th each département, kind of like a county, will either be classified red or green, depending on multiple factors, and this can change the severity of the rules after May 11th. Preschools, elementary schools, and daycares can reopen, on a voluntary basis by each family, so those in need that cannot do online learning and depend on the meals can return to school under certain hygiene measures. Public transportation will increase slightly but not back to the normal frequency, masks will be obligatory, every other seat must be left empty, employeurs are encouraged the adjust hours of employees that have to return to work to avoid rush hour, and that those not commuting to and from work should avoid public transportation during these hours. We will be able to leave the house without filling out a form, as long as it’s less than 100km from our address. Farther than this (62 miles) we will need to have a legitimate reason, such as professional or imperative family needs. No meetings, private or public, of more than ten people. Individual sports any time of day (currently in Paris jogging isn’t permitted between 10am and 7pm) but no team sports. Libraries and small museums may reopen while abiding by hygiene procedures. Parks may reopen but if considered dangerous, such as in Paris, they may remain closed. Most businesses can reopen, except restaurants, bars, cafés, large museums, movie theaters, concert venues, or theaters, while controlling the number of people in the business and customers may be turned away if they aren’t wearing a mask. Farmers markets may reopen as well. Malls may or may not reopen, depending on their size. Working from home is still strongly encouraged. The government hopes to test 700,000 people a week, though who can get tested isn’t clear. If you test positive you must self isolate for 14 days either at your residence or an allocated hotel, and teams of people will attempt to get in contact with those who may have been infected by said persons to get tested. An app is also in development to track this but is also highly controversial and will have to be voted on by parliament. Masks will be distributed by employeurs, by schools, to nonprofits for those in need, social action centers, and La Poste has set up a website where they can be bought, the government paying for part of the costs. The second phase in which things could change is June 2nd.
Voilà, I think that’s everything. I would love to hear from you when you can write back. Miss you and thinking of you.
Love,
Melissa
P.S. Some recent Articles/Blogs/Newsletters/Podcasts that are Paris related:
David Lebovitz's May 2020 Newsletter
When Cookies Fly and Other Tales of Staying Entertained During Quarantine
Lettre Recommandé: Notes from France by Lauren Collins
Podcast: Documenting confinement in Paris, checking in with the French psyche, May Day history (interview with the couple making the documentary that I was featured in briefly among other interesting things.)
The New Paris Podcast: Paris in Confinement
The Earful Tower Podcast: What does Paris look like in lockdown? (he has recorded several episodes about what has been going on, this is just a more recent one, light-hearted)
The Street That Still Offers Paris Hope
Denuded of Tourists, Paris Reveals Its Old Beating Heart
France 24's English Coverage of the France Lockdown (a great news outlet in English with a more French perspective of whats going on in France with articles and videos)
#spring 2020#a letter from France#a letter from Paris#my personal writing#melissa ann#jacquelinep21#quarantine cooking#recipes#may 11th#may 2020#podcasts#Spilled Milk podcast#Paris#paris in confinement#confinement journal#lockdown life#le 11 mai#an american in paris
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Unpacking Childhood Trauma. *trigger warning. rape*
Well, it’s been 5 blog posts now since I ditched the “chronological” version of talking about my trip to Portland. I don’t know if it matters if I finish it exactly as planned. Who needs to know EXACTLY how things are going to work out, anyway? It’s all a huge journey.
Two days ago, I finally got deep enough into my experience to unlock a certain childhood trauma that has been one of my most long-standing challenges. Now that I’m absolutely 100% okay with it and admitting it to myself, I can admit it to other people.
For those of you who don’t know, I was essentially emotionally and psychically raped for a good portion of my formative years. Now, before I go into detail about the circumstances, I just want to make it clear that I don’t blame anyone for their roles in how this all happened... it’s all due to lack of understanding in their part. There is no space for anger or blame in me for how this all worked out. It is 100% my responsibility to deal with the fallout and how I have become as a result of it.
Let’s start where it all began, the Doctor’s office. When I was having difficulty staying still in class, causing disruptions (such as build a paper fort out of my desk and throwing paper balls at people when the teacher was teaching), my 4th grade teacher suggested to my mother that I get medicated for ADHD... since that was the common thing to do in year 2000... Therapists obviously didn’t exist and word of mouth from a fourth grade teacher and my mother, an Emergency Room nurse was enough to bypass the psychological exam or even a suggestion of asking another party for help and head straight to the medications. I was 7.
We went to this one N.P. who was a known “ADHD specialist” and she told me about how the Dopamine and Serotonin in my brain was all off and that I needed medications so I could make friends and be happy and do good in school. She prescribed me Ritalin... which became the first of about 6 or 7 drugs that I was on from age 7 until I finally kicked pharma when I was 22. So, now there was both a medical doctor, my mother and my teacher telling me that I was somehow “broken” and needed help. Over the next 15 years, not once did I ever receive a psychological examination from a qualified therapist or psychologist. I ended up on a high dose of Concerta (long acting methylphenidate... street legal speed), Ritalin (quicker acting, harder hitting, street legal speed), Strattera (a relatively benign Selective Norephinephrene Re-Uptake Inhibitor that balanced out my depression slightly that my doctor had coined, “The light at the end of the tunnel”... but the kicker was when I was prescribed Apiprazole, aka Abilify, a potent anti-psychotic used for a diagnosis of Obsessive FUCKING Compulsive Disorder because of my DISORGANIZED COLLECTION OF WILD HARVESTED HERBS.
Back story time... At this age, I had a decent collection of locally harvested herbs, flowers, leaves, bark, etc... mostly labelled (all identifiable by my eye) on two shelves in my basement. This “disorganization” was apparently grounds to label me as an obsessive compulsive hoarder at age 11, hence the powerful antipsychotic medication prescription for the next ten years... needless to say, I didn’t collect herbs too much after that. One day my mother threw them all away without asking me.
If you ask me what I’d have done in the situation, I would have helped my child pursue his or her own interests by hooking them up with a herbalist or someone who does that kind of thing the child is interested in... but I don’t get to make that kind of choice. I didn’t get to make any choices because I wasn’t 18 and my mother thought she knew better what I needed and AS A CHILD, I BELIEVED HER.
It took me until a few years ago to realize that the anger that I’ve held inside for so long wasn’t at her for all of that... It was at myself for all those years of letting someone else tell me what was good for me and what I wanted.
I was a child. Even if I had other opinions, why would I believe myself when all these capable, functioning adults told me I was wrong?
I was reading in Maya Angelou’s book, “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings” about how she blamed herself for the death of the man who raped her. When she traveled to St Louis to her biological mother’s place from her mother’s husband, Mr Freeman raped her and then held her like she would be safe from anything that could threaten her. Next, he said he would kill her brother if she ever told anyone about it. She then talks about how, after he raped her again, eventually her family found out and Mr. Freeman was put on trial. During the interrogation, she was asked if he had touched her before the one reported rape incident and she lied and said “no”. Her “lie” resulted in his sentence being substantially less, his lawyer got him out that very day. That night, he was killed and his body left in the slaughterhouse lot.
Maya blamed herself, her one lie for the death of the man who she somehow loved. She closed her mouth for years after that, never uttering a word, for she blamed herself for the his death. Only after she realized that, by sharing her story, was she able to connect to the greater human experience... all the deep emotions we all feel and to find the liberation that self-love brings.
So, I guess that’s why I’m sharing. Thanks, Marguerite Angelou. Thanks for telling your story. Here’s mine. I don’t blame anyone for how it happened. It is not my fault, not another’s fault... merely how it happened...
Now, the part that I only figured out recently about this... I realized why I was being disruptive and hyper in the first place.
Because my first crush, “Nicole” had completely ignored me when I wrote her a letter, asking her if she wanted to be my friend. I was a precocious little brat... and honestly, I had very little rapport with my mother, a notoriously bad advice giver who would often suggesting relationship sabotage or manipulative behaviors. I had no real “friends” to talk about this problem with... so when one thing led to another, I acted out and that’s how I ended up medicated and thus OBEYING WHAT MY FAMILY WAS TELLING ME ABOUT MYSELF. THAT I WAS BROKEN. THAT I NEEDED HELP. THAT I WASN’T WORTH INVESTING ANY REAL EFFORT INTO. THAT I WAS A BURDEN and THAT I SHOULD SHUT UP AND TAKE WHAT THEY WERE GIVING ME. They couldn’t control me without medications, so they hit me where it hurts and got me started on a violence cycle towards myself of self-deprecation, isolation and drug-addiction that it would take me years to resolve.
Now, it’s the times, really that caused this. This idea that it’s acceptable to medicate a child PERMANENTLY is terribly detrimental to our society as a whole. Not only to most of these medications cause severe side effects, both long and short term but it’s literally drugging and raping an entire generation to do as they are told and to not question the way of things. Fucking traumatic generational bullshit that is COMPLETELY normalized. In the Early days, Shamans didn’t look at people as having “mental illness” as a disorder that is characterized and labeled... People were an infinite spectrum of personalities, all with their own individual wants, needs and path that must be respected and honored so that the person can grow as a whole. Medicine focused on the WHOLE PERSON, not just a specific character trait that the doctor deems as “non-beneficial”. We have moved so far from our center as a human species.
Now, I’m learning to love myself more... to be less violent in thought and action towards myself... to accept when I don’t know what to do to fix something... to channel my anger appropriately (into art, craftsmanship, poetry, music) and to love people, despite their flaws or lack of “knowledge”. I have a deep well of compassion for humans in all walks of life. I have better boundaries now and know where my emotions and desires end and another person’s begin. I am strong and I will be respect from here on out as a survivor of childhood trauma.
To you, Mom... I love you anyways.
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24-hour Tech Break: Reflections and Realizations from a Screenless Day
For 24-hours this weekend, I joined up with Imaginarium and took a tech break. Starting at 6pm on Friday and going until 6pm on Saturday, I turned my phone off – not “do not disturb” or airplane mode, but just completely off. I closed my computer and iPad as well and zipped them up in my workbag and put them in my closet, out of sight and relatively out of mind. During my time away from screenland, I had a few realizations that I want to share.
Before that, I do want to acknowledge one thing.
I understand that people have actual hardships in life, and that taking a 24-hour tech break is not one of them. And I know a 24-hour tech break sounds like something that would be recognized at the Millennial’s Choice Awards.
“Oh my god, is that the guy that did the 24-hour tech break?”
“Wow, I can’t believe it’s him!”
“I thought he died at hour 13.”
“No, the doctors actually rushed in and were able to resuscitate him after the 24th. That’s why he’s the guest of honor at this year’s MCA’s.”
Anyway, you get the point. But here’s what I learned.
Silence is Golden (for real)
I didn’t realize how much of the day my attention and thoughts were being guided by noise. My typical daily routine consists of nonstop noise.
When I wake up I put in headphones first thing and listen to a podcast while I make coffee and breakfast, then I take out the headphones to write my morning journal of three pages by hand, then the headphones go back in and I clean up breakfast. Next up I swap out headphones for Spotify to play on my phone while I shower and get ready for the day, then I go headphones again and get my stuff together to head out the door. As I get in my car, I switch from headphones to my car audio, so I’m either listening to music (SiriusXM Fly channel 47, 90′s-00’s hip-hop and r&b, to be precise), or I’m making calls. My workday then consists of either interviewing people, training, staff meetings, or doing in-home sales presentations, which is pretty much me talking 80% of the time, which is just more noise. During a lunch break, or anytime between appointments/meetings, I toss the headphones back in and pick back up on a podcast. Eventually I hop back in the car to head home, so it’s back to music or phone calls. When I get home, the headphones go back in as I cook dinner, and then they come out as I eat dinner while catching up on the previous night’s Late Night with Seth Meyers (and other shows) on my DVR. As that finishes, I’m mindlessly scrolling through social media, just refreshing stuff waiting for the next little dopamine hit that is a new post, story, article, etc. To end the day, I toss the headphones back in while I do dishes, I still have them on as I get ready for bed, and then I pop them out only to fall asleep to Netflix on my iPad that is a foot away from my face, which I then wake up to 30-minutes later to find it still playing, so I close the case and go back to sleep.
Whew. That looks WAY worse typed out. From the moment I get out of bed to when I fall asleep (for the second time), it’s just noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise, with zero breaks.
My first realization during the tech break was how vital the silence was. I needed it desperately. The silence revealed to me exactly how much noise I fill my day with.
I like to think of clarity of mind as a mirror that I’m looking into. Every bit of noise throughout the day adds a little fog to it. Podcasts – fog, phone calls – fog, texts – fog, every refresh of social media – fog (and fog and fog and fog and fog). These things aren’t inherently bad on their own, but my relationship (or addiction, really) to them is unhealthy, because I let them fog the mirror all day.
The silence, however, is the only thing that would clear the mirror. Each hour of silence during the tech break was a small wipe across the mirror, until finally the fog was gone, which happened maybe at hour 17. The more fog you put on the mirror, the longer it takes to clear it.
When the mirror finally cleared, I was reminded of who I am and what I want to do with my energies that particular day. My creative juices started to flow, I had three or four short story ideas come up, and I was able to look in the mirror and see what the next right thing to do was. When the mirror is foggy, I don’t have a chance at seeing the next right thing. I’ll get an idea, but then a Facebook notification will completely derail that train of thought. With a clear mirror, I was able to think through a story idea completely uninterrupted, even sketching out a quick outline so I could return to it later.
Silence is vital, and it brings clarity along with it. I don’t mean that you have to treat your tech break like a silent retreat – you can talk to anyone you’d like in person – but when I say silence I really mean just a break in the noise of screenland, whether the screen is making noise or not. The silence recharged my batteries.
Productivity
Without the constant interruptions of noise, I was able to accomplish more tasks in my 24-hour tech break than I had done in the first two months of the year. I always have a running list of things I’d like to get done around my house on a day off, but then stuff comes up and those things get pushed aside, or I’ll start one project and then come back the next weekend and try to finish it, usually leaving it 75% done.
Over the 24-hour tech break, I did laundry (sheets, towels, clothes), reorganized my bedroom, cleaned out my car, deep cleaned my entire house (not just dusting and cleaning the floors, but like the scrubbing the shelves of my fridge kind of deep cleaning), raked leaves, pulled weeds, trimmed all my hedges, bought new succulents for inside, moved everything off my front porch, swept the floor, wiped down the furniture, and then rearranged the layout of the porch, I read 50+ pages of a book, I wrote my three morning journal pages, wrote 50% of this post (by hand, of course), I cooked, and I got rid of (donated) two trash bags full of clothes I haven’t worn since I moved into this house in 2016.
All done in 24-hours, with ~8 of those hours spent sleeping.
I don’t mind a good day or two of cleaning and organizing because I would usually catch up on podcasts or listen to music while I did those things. But without any distractions from noise or screenland, I was able to accomplish each task in about 60% of the time they would normally take because I was solely focused on that particular task.
For example, if I have headphones in while trimming hedges, I’ll come across a song I don’t want to listen to on a playlist, so I’ll get my phone out of my pocket to change songs, but then I’ll see an Instagram notification, and when I open Instagram I’ll see some new stories pop up, then I’ll comment on a friend’s story, which will remind me to text another friend back about something else, and then 10-minutes go by and I’m standing on a ladder with hedge clippers in one hand and my phone in the other, all while my playlist is now 5 songs past the one I wanted to skip in the first place. When finally get back to work on the hedges, another song will come on that I don’t want to listen to, and the cycle starts over.
(Exhale)
I told you my relationship to screenland was unhealthy.
Without my phone in my pocket, I was not only able to complete the tasks much quicker, but I was also able to do them better because they had my full attention. Instead of just buying new succulents and putting them in new pots, I cleaned out all of the old pots and mixed in new dirt for the succulents I already had. At the end of the day, I was tired, but it was that good kind of tired, where you’re proud of your work.
I was at my most productive when the mirror wasn’t fogged.
Constant Contact
Last point, so I’ll make it quick.
I was stunned at how many times I would think of something that would make me reach for my phone to text a friend. The smallest thought would pop in my head, and I’d reach for my pocket for a phone that wasn’t even there because my first instinct is, “Oh, I gotta text that person about that.” I do that ALL DAY, which puts me in constant contact with so many different people. The reaction to reach for my phone was Pavlovian like.
The shirt I wore yesterday was one I bought in Encinitas last year when I was visiting my friend Luke, and I thought, “Oh, I need to send him a picture of this shirt.” Later on I was getting my golf clubs out of my car and thought, “Oh, I need to see if my friend Patty wants to walk 9-holes tomorrow because the weather is so nice.” Then I found an old jacket from college that made me think, “Oh, I need to send a picture of this to my friends because it reminds me of this thing we did back in 2009.” This routine happened over and over and over and over.
Again, texting my friends isn’t a bad thing – in fact, it may be a nice pick me up for both of us in the process. But the quick reaction to reach for my phone anytime those thoughts popped in my head scared me. It was like I was desperate to be in constant contact with a bunch of people all day, and that constant contact is going to add more and more fog to the mirror, distracting me from writing, cleaning, reading, or whatever I want to spend my energies on. Plus, each time I open my phone to send one of those texts, I’m more likely to come across something else on that shiny, 5.5” screen that will take me down a different rabbit hole, which will, in the end, make me forget to send the original text.
The break from constant contact was incredibly calming.
If you read one part, let it be this
As the clock approached 6pm, I started to get a little sad. I wasn’t ready for the tech break to be over. I wasn’t ready to return to my old way of doing things. Texts, calls, social media, emails – I knew it would all come flooding back with the press of one button. Or even worse, what if no texts came flooding in? OR, what if only one text came in and it was from the pharmacy saying that my monthly prescription was ready for pickup? That wasn’t the case, but I digress…
I loved my time off of the grid, and quite frankly, I liked no-tech Jeremy a lot better than screenland Jeremy. It reminded me of being a kid, when I could jump from task to task, pursuing whatever interested me at the moment, free of anything buzzing or lighting up in my pocket, and solely focused on what was right in front of me at that exact moment in time. I got out of my own head. The mirror was clear.
A power shift had taken place – one I was dying for and didn’t even know it. For the first time in probably a decade, I owned my phone instead of my phone owning me.
So going forward, I’ll make some adjustments to my routine: I’m going to limit the amount of time headphones are in my ears, I’ll swap out Netflix for a book before I go to sleep (because I know I don’t need to watch all of The Office for the millionth time), I will leave my phone in a different room of my house when I want to get stuff done, and I’ll continue not checking social media before noon, which I’ve been doing for Lent this year.
If you’d like to try a 24-hour tech break, here are my suggestions:
1. Do it over a regular weekend at your house, because it’s easier to analyze your habits when you are in your typical routine. If you do it outside of your routine, then you’ll have other distractions to keep you away from technology in the first place, which won’t reveal your tech instincts enough. It’s best to have as little planned as possible.
2. Get someone else to do it that doesn’t live with you, because it’s a nice little encouragement to know other people out there are doing it as well.
3. Keep a notepad with you and write down your accomplishments every time you complete one. By the end of the day, you’ll be shocked at what all you’ve done.
I know one tech break isn’t a cure all, so I’m planning on doing this once a month for the rest of the year. In the meantime, I’ll be working hard to keep the mirror clear.
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What is HAPPINESS? Happiness has different meanings for different people. #happiness #exercise #balanceddiet #bethankful #meditation #music #therapy #sleepproperly #happylife #happy #healthmystic #potimist #bliss #life
Happiness has different meanings for different people. As a matter of fact, for some happiness means having a peaceful life and on the other hand, it means having a party at the club. Every individual has different ways of perceiving what happiness means to them. Some people find happiness in small little things and some others find it an expensive and lavish lifestyle.
What is important to stay happy? Generally, developing a positive habit does affect your happiness. Moreover having a productive and healthy routine also impact your happiness.
Here are 27 habits one should follow to know the real value of happiness and cherish it.
27 Habits to stay Happy
1.Exercise daily
Working out daily can have a positive impact on your body and mind.
It can help you stay fit and fresh.
Thereupon it can generate a sense of satisfaction and joy inside you.
Also, it prevents anxiety and symptoms of depression.
It can also reduce stress.
Consider these exercise starters:
Adopt the routine of taking a walk in the morning and after dinner.
Start with yoga classes or maybe dance classes too.
Start your day with 5 minutes of stretching.
2. Have a balanced diet
Food plays a major role in the efficient functioning of the body.
It is stated that "Your face is the mirror of the body". If you keep your body unfit it will eventually be reflected on your face.
Hence, having stable food and diet keeps you healthy and fit.
It also helps you stay happy and joyful.
For example:
Add Carbohydrates in your diet which release feel-good hormones called SEROTINE.
Avoid food that contains sugar and starch and consume greater amounts of simple food.
Increase your consumption of fruits, vegetables, fiber, and grains.
Having protein-rich food also improves your diet.
These foods release dopamine and norepinephrine, which boost energy and concentration.
Avoid consumption of fried food as it makes you dizzy and lazy.
Additionally, it makes you feel heavy and as a result, you start skipping meals.
Try to adopt a lifestyle of more and more homemade food.
Make your consumption of junk food limited.
Adopting a healthier lifestyle will help you feel active and happy.
3. Be Thankful
Being thankful for what you have holds paramount importance in well being of an individual.
It boosts your confidence and makes you feel more positive signs.
According to a recent study, gratitude makes people feel confident and positive.
Wake up each day and be thankful for what you have in life.
Focus on what you have achieved and what you have already received.
Focus on the brighter side of life and do not think about the negative aspects.
Starting at small steps will make a bigger difference at later stages to nurture the fruits of a happy lifestyle.
4. Smile a lot more
When you smile you tend to show that you are happy.
When you smile your brain releases a hormone called DOPAMINE.
It affects your body and brain and you start feeling positive and happy.
People usually say that faking a smile in times when you are not happy is important. All the more, expressing your real emotions are equally essential.
It is not important to smile when you are sad inside.
It is okay to feel sad, it is okay to vent out your feelings.
But after you vent out your feelings, go in front of the mirror and repeat YOU ARE STRONGER THAN THIS and then smile even more.
Remember bad days are temporary and also remember about the bad times you have already fought and come out of it even stronger.
5. Having enough sleep
Having an adequate amount of sleep is very crucial for the healthy functioning of our brain.
It is also important for the proper functioning of our brain and our emotional well being.
At least 7-8 hours of sleep is very important for every individual.
People take naps because their body is not able to complete the right amount of sleep that is required by everybody for its healthy functioning.
Here are a few tips to help you build a better sleep routine:
Firstly write down how many hours of sleep you get each night and how rested you feel. After a week, you would have a better idea of how you’re doing.
Go to bed and wake up at the same time every day, including weekends.
Avoid activities that require mental strain before going to bed. Also, avoid eating before you go to bed.
Your surroundings should be comfortable enough for you to get enough sleep.
If you have to take a nap, try to limit it to 20 minutes.
If you have a disturbed sleeping pattern you should visit your doctor because it can be an indication of sleeping disorder.
Sleep plays a pivotal role in happiness.
If an individual does not get enough sleep they feel grumpy the entire day and thereupon end up affecting their mood.
Most importantly waking up after a proper sleep helps in being positive and motivated throughout the day.
6. Practice meditation
Meditation helps you to stay focused and concentrated.
It helps you stay calm and positive.
Waking up every morning and practicing meditation can change your entire lifestyle.
It can help you stay focused and cheerful.
You will feel a positive change if you adopt this into your lifestyle.
7. Stay kind to people
Be a person who has positive vibes and who brings a smile on people’s faces.
Compliment people for their positive qualities.
Help people when needed as much as possible.
Do not hurt people, or do not be mean to them.
Be polite to everybody.
If unintentionally you have hurt someone, do apologize to them.
8. Respect for your bad times too
Every individual has had bad times and good times.
Having a positive attitude in life, even during your bad times is important.
Your bad times teach you a lot and make you even stronger.
Take deep breathes, relax for a while and remind yourself that bad moments will pass.
Having this attitude can help you to stay positive and calm.
9. Keep a Diary
Keep a diary to express your feelings, emotions, and thoughts and to make plans.
Express your day to day thoughts and emotions and feelings.
It will help you have a better idea of your actions
If putting certain things in writing makes you nervous, you can always shred it after you’ve finished. Remember, it is the process that counts.
10. Meet your friends
Humans are social beings, and having close friends can make us happier.
Taking to your friends, sharing your feelings with them helps you feel relaxed and happy.
Get yourself involved in various hobby classes and finding like-minded people can make you feel happy.
11. Plan your week
Make a list of things you would want to plan for the weekend which makes you happy.
Give yourself a break and do things that give you happiness.
These small little things will change your mood and will give you a break from your daily schedule.
12. Avoid using your phone for some time
Ditch your phone for a while, distract yourself and do some positive stuff.
Phones emit negative energy and can harm your brain.
Working diligently without a phone can help you feel fresh and energetic.
13. Listen to good music
Listening to music can help you feel motivated and fresh.
It changes your minds in seconds and helps you distract from stressful situations.
Moreover, it helps you feel positive and energetic.
14. Choose Therapy
We feel happy and motivated if we learn to overcome obstacles in life.
If you feel like you’re hitting a brick wall, consider speaking with a therapist every week.
You don’t need to have a diagnosed mental health condition or an overwhelming crisis to seek therapy.
Even just a few sessions can help you add some new goodies to your emotional toolbox.
15. Have your self-pampering days
On weekends pamper yourself with things that you love.
Maybe it’s unwinding your workweek with a long, hot bath. Or adopting a skincare routine that makes you feel indulgent. Or simply setting aside a night to put on your softest jammies and watching a movie of your genre from start to finish.
What so ever makes you happy put it in your diary and do not avoid it.
16. Go Out have fun
Even if you don’t have anyone to go out, just leave with your company.
Go to your favorite restaurant, watch a movie, or go on that trip you’ve always dreamt of.
Even if you don’t like to go out alone, try it this time.
Your own company is the best company one could have.
17. Let go your Grudges
This is often easier said than done. But you don’t have to do it for the other person.
Sometimes forgiving the other person is very important.
It helps you feel less burdened and you grow as a stronger person.
18. Stop comparing
Everybody has different definitions of happiness but if you compare yourself with others, you will never stay happy.
Whether we compare our finances, our body type, our vacations, our talents, our house size or even our shoe size, there are no winners in the game of comparison.
One thing you have to focus on is self-growth and self-love.
Be thankful for what you have, appreciate your hard work and keep working hard for yourself.
19. Don’t work without breaks
Take rests in between, indulge in anything which calms you down.
This will help you remain focused and concentrate on work.
Don’t take the stress of work and let it affect your body.
Love your work, it will make you happy.
20. Make Adjustment
When something goes wrong or you feel a bit off. Your mood is having a roller coaster ride hence distract yourself.
When you’re feeling stuck or heavy, take a walk, do something different than your normal routine rather than meet up with a friend.
If feeling anxious or stressed, tune-up with extra sleep, meditation/yoga or a hot bath.
21. Choose wise people in life
Always surround yourself with people that help you progress in life.
When these people help you stay happy and motivated you will see the changes.
Stay away from people who hold you back from achieving the best of your capabilities.
In short, always choose your company wisely. Don’t be around people who hamper your personal growth, they will hold you back in life.
22. Breathe for a moment
Firstly take your time to relax even after all the stress you have. Take short breaks in between to restore all the energy to work again.
Take a long breathe and then pause.
Close your eyes for a minute and focus on recollecting your energy.
You will feel much better and will be able to focus on work again.
23. Say it out loud
Even if there's no one listening, talk to yourself about what you need to do, and how fun that reports on Rome are going to be.
Take out negative things from your mind and focus on the positivities.
Stay as calm and positive as you possibly can.
24. Keep yourself busy
While you may have been looking forward to slouching on the couch, stuffing your face with cheese puffs and getting orange powder all over the cushions, having this lazy time in the dark will gradually make you think little of yourself.
Also if you are tired then read nap, do yoga, stretch, or do something peaceful and creative. If you're up for it, jog, go on a brisk walk, anything to push off the laziness.
Keep yourself busy as much as possible henceforth productively utilize your energy.
Doing nothing takes your brain in the wrong direction.
24. Find your happy place
It may be sunning on a rock in your garden surrounded by flowers, or it may be snuggling into your mattress or even dozing over a good book.
It doesn't matter where it is, just get there at least once a week! Make sure that you quiet yourself now and then and be grateful for all you have.
This will leave you refreshed and with a pleasing outlook on life.
25. Accept
Yourself, your flaws, your limitations.
Most important smile more often, and know that everything is balanced. Don't get plastic surgery, settle for something that makes you happy.
The simple, sunbeam, every day, buttermilk pancake, fresh breeze, blue waters, the mountains, the snow and those deep deep blue oceans kind of happy.
26. Go for It
Do things that make you happy, do not resist in front of your own needs.
Keep your happiness as your priority.
Most importantly, Live for yourself.
27. Adopt one social cause
At least help one person.
Bring a smile on their face.
Talk to them about life, make them forget their problems for a while.
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Homestuck is postmodern AF and that’s why you hated the ending (an english major’s take)
I’m 1000 years late to the party, but I just finished Homestuck, My excuse is that I’m violently busy for 95% of my life. The upshot of what I’m about to say is this: Homestuck is postmodern as FUCK. It is not a normal story. It is what we might call “writerly.” And that is why so many people were disappointed with the ending, myself sort of included.
I’m glad I waited until now to finish it, because a couple weeks ago I finished taking a graduate-level class on postmodern fiction (I am one semester away from earning an MA in english lit, hence violently busy). I think if I had not just taken that class, I would have cried out of frustration and agony over the ending of this webcomic which I have been reading for four years and have loved enough to get an image from it tattooed on my skin.
First, let’s get familiar with some terms. We all know what “meta” means, but do we really? While I was taking that grad class, I realized I only thought I knew what it meant. My initial understanding of “meta,” in reference to a work of fiction, is that it breaks the fourth wall; it is self-referential and self-aware. Yes, that’s true, and a valid way to understand meta. But the earliest of metafiction doesn’t quite play out like this. Take an early example, “The Balloon” by Donald Barthelme. My professor assigned this piece along with many other short pieces, all of which she referred to as “early metafiction.” If you don’t have time to read the story yourself, here is a quick and dirty summary: a giant balloon appears over a city, and nobody knows why it’s there. Then, trucks cart it away. The end. It’s actually a great read, and if you like puzzling through things, you will likely enjoy it, as I did. But the day we discussed it in class, I raised my hand and asked my professor, “How is this meta?” That question extended to all the other short pieces we had read for that day.
Now, allow me to paraphrase her answer in a way that does not approximate her finesse. Basically, the story is meta because it makes you work for meaning. This is what we mean when we say that fiction is “writerly”: the reader has to participate actively in order to make meaning out of what is on the page. If the story is just passively read, it is utter nonsense. A story like this is meta because it forces you, the reader, to participate in the act of making meaning.
The opposite of writerly fiction is, as you might imagine, readerly fiction. In this category is the vast majority of stuff you will pick up. It’s your Stephen King and your JK Rowling and your Suzanne Collins. Great stuff (subjectively, of course), but the only work you have to do is moving your eyeballs across the page.
This is not what Homestuck is. It’s not readerly, and it never was. It was always utterly opaque, confusing, and convoluted--from the very beginning. That’s part of what, I think, so many of us love about it. And Hussie has acknowledged this. Thanks to @bladekindeyewear, my go-to theory blogger whenever I don’t know what to do think, I know that Hussie has said that Homestuck is “a story that is also a puzzle” (I recommend clicking for full quote, via @bladekindeyewear). In other words, you have to do work to make sense of it. It is writerly. It is META.
Ok, so now we’ve defined Homestuck as meta in two ways (the obvious, self-referential way and the “writerly” way), but there is a third way I would like to consider, and that is the “knows it’s a story and fucks with you” way, which might sound like the same way as “self-referential,” but allow me to explain.
Let us turn to another father of metafiction, John Barth, author of the short story collection Lost in the Funhouse which I have mostly read. The title story exemplifies my point perfectly. Here’s another quick and dirty summary for you: a kid goes to a carnival with his family and gets lost in the funhouse, then finds his way out. That’s literally it, but the story is 30 pages and really good, so as you can imagine there’s a lot of funky narration shit going on. This story’s narration constantly breaks with the comfortable, well-worn narrative flow and comments on the process of telling the story. It anticipates the reader’s expectations and undermines them. It also completely skips over the part where the kid gets lost, which should be the climax, and the part where he finds his way out, which should be the resolution/denouement (all of which it gleefully notes). In summation, it is keenly aware of the formula of a “successful” narrative, and it intentionally breaks from that formula, possibly to frustrate the reader (among other reasons).
This is a HALLMARK of postmodernism. Postmodernism flips the bird to “metanarratives,” or master ideas. It farts in the face of well-worn convention, because by that point in literary history (postmodernism spans the latter half of the 20th century), they’ve gotten pretty old and boring. So it breaks the rules in order to breathe new life into storytelling as a practice.
We are now in the “post-postmodern” period, which is still being defined and needs a less stupid name, but these ideas still bear relevance. I’m not going to try to talk about the period we’re in now beyond that because I’m far from an expert (my school doesn’t offer a grad class on it yet!), but postmodern influence in Homestuck is clear as day, in more ways than I will get into in this post. But the point I’ve been getting to is that Hussie does exactly what Barth did in “Lost in the Funhouse”: he broke narrative convention. And that’s why the ending is so frustrating.
I won’t go into detail about that. Instead I’ll direct you to this extremely informative visual essay (that I’m sure many have already seen), which explains exactly how Hussie breaks narrative convention and why it’s frustrating to read. I will say that, despite all I have typed and will continue to type, reading the ending was frustrating for me as well. We all wanted to mainline the same precious plot ambrosia that we got circa Act 5/Cascade. But sadly (or not), the reward of Homestuck’s ending cannot come as instant gratification.
Instead, we have to continue to put together the puzzle.
@wakraya had the right idea. They did not despair over the ending (for long). They got to thinking and came up with the Homestuck Meta Theory, and I personally feel that they are super onto something. So check that out if you haven’t already.
There is no One Answer though. We can all build on each other’s ideas, and our own ideas. Personally, I see the “meaning” of Homestuck as a set of concentric circles. That was the deep, intuitive impression I had after finishing it and reading @wakraya‘s theory, which, again, really rang true for me. There’s so much contained within Homestuck, and there cannot be just one meaning. There are many smaller meanings contained within a large meaning, and who knows where that chain of meaning ends?
There was no dopamine-hit of instant gratification at the end, but I love Homestuck, and I will continue to think about it until I get bored, which may be never. Keep on theorizing, people.
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A neighbour is barbecuing outside and damn that smells good. This is the reason why I’m not a vegetarian: I have decided to only eat organic meat when I eat meat and it’s already so difficult to find foods you can eat (most restaurants don’t do organic so either you don’t eat meat or you eat some shitty vegan fake-meat [boradbeans are actually a nice meat replacement but idk about restaurants]) and all the organic meat pretty much is limited to minced meat and sausages. And everything but minced meat has just so many E-codes in them that it makes me want to avoid them too.
And it’s just so so so so so annoying because I really do like the taste of meat and sometimes when I smell meat, it’s like... almost like some animalistic instict. It just tastes so good and I feel like eating all the meat in the world and sometimes I just crave for hamburgers and whatnot just because of the meat. It’s even worse if you decide you are not allowed to eat when you know that a) meat does not make you sick and b) it tastes so fucking good and deciding to become a vegetarian is like deciding to never use the computer again. I just can’t do it. Some days I’ve been like “fuck it” and didn’t care about what I ate anymore and just ate, but then I was woken up again and decided to go back to organic meat only. And it’s so restricting, like I said - I can only eat in places where they have food made from fish which is why I almost always end up eating pizza as I always eat it with tuna.
Idk, the taste of meat just gives me so huge dopamine rush that sometimes the smell alone is making me crazy. Right now I’m not working but whenever I work with horses, my body also needs meat, not just craves but needs it. It’s very physical job and I literally cannot stay healthy nor alive if I don’t eat properly and something that can go into my muscles. I could eat only fish too, but fish in Finland is ridiculously expensive and I don’t have the money. I usually always buy fish from the -30% sale only because 1kg of fresh salmon costs 10-18€, depending on which cut it is. And it mainly comes from bred salmons in Norway and you shouldn’t even eat that that much because of the enviromental issues. And if it’s marinated and cut to pieces, it costs over 20€/kg. And if you want to buy FINNISH fish... unprepared costs over 13€/kg and cut ones can cost over 30€/kg. I often buy frozen tuna steaks from Lidl and that already is 5€ for 250g. Tuna in a can is no longer as cheap as it used to be, I buy only the MSC ones and they cost almost or over 3€/can. So if you were to eat fish every day in Finland, you’d need to be either rich or not eat anything for the last 2 weeks of every month.
So, that is the biggest reason for why I can’t be vegetarian. Another one being that I literally start to feel sick and weak if I go too long without meat. Like I said, it’s not as bad now as I don’t work and I can survive by eating fish or broad bean stuff to replace the meat but I can’t do that for too long until I start to feel really weak. And I have a habit to listen to my body and it will tell me what it needs when it needs it - it will crave for foods when I’m in need of vitamins and such. Last year, when I was to Poland and I was stressing to much, eating way too little and sweating 24/7, and then next week had to go to a blood test, it showed low levels of potassium. That explained why I was constantly feeling like and eating bananas, and why I suddenly craved fo avocados with herbal salt so much after seeing a photo of an avocado on an ad, and I don’t even LIKE avocados. It was because it contains lots of potassium and my body was in need of potassium. And if I don’t get enough whatever you get from meat, I start craving for meat. Be it proteins or iron or whatnot, the reason I crave it is because my body is lacking something you get from it. And I like to listen to my body.
This is also why I can feel like a moody toddler when I look at photos of hamburgers because I just feel like I restricted everything fun from myself. I have never had the best relationship with food. I have never been that good at eating and my mom has always said that I have a “bird’s stomach” because my eating habits have always gone in phases - sometimes I eat A LOT and all the time and then sometimes I eat barely anything, I’ve been like this since I was a kid. And at school we always had do little time to finish eating and I am REALLY slow at eating + the food often tasted bad, so I learnt to take as little as possible so I don’t need to throw away too much and so that I could finish with the food before the time ran out. I was often running late for lessons only because I would sit there eating for ages and not realizing the time’s passing, until I got older and understood the clock better. So eating as a process became more like a task for me. I was eating for living and a full plate always felt like a task that I did not know if I had enough time to complete. And if I did it before the time ran out, I was feeling relieved. I also remember every time I saw people eating in movies, my only concern was “how can they eat if they are not hungry?” because I could never eat if I was not hungry and thinking about being an actor and eating because of a movie scene while not hungry made me feel almost sick. And sometimes even today I feel like I’m not on the mood for eating but I have to get myself something to eat because I’m hungry, and I just feel like eating is an unpleasant task I need to complete and sometimes I just can’t finish it properly.
Things kinda turned upside down when I was depressed and never ate because I was neve hungry nor feeling the hunger - school left me hungry every time so I stopped being able to differentiate the real hunger from the normal feeling in my stomach. I was often feeling really bad because I didn’t eat and my sugar levels kept dropping so down and it was just insane, I was malnourished but I didn’t see that (and I had always been relatively skinny). And then when I was 20, I was quitting my antidepressants but it happened in the middle of too stressfull situations and I hit the rock bottom and after that I had food anxiety - fear of low blood sugar which I often call as “mental diabetes”. I don’t have a diabetes but I couldn’t tell anxiety apart from low blood sugar symptoms. So I started eating when I didn’t need to eat anything just because I had anxiety and my first thought always was “LOW BLOOD SUGAR!!! EVERYONE, PANIC, NOW!!!”
Over the couple of past years I’ve gotten over this anxiety but it sometimes takes over if I haven’t eaten a warm meal in a few days. My body starts to have symptoms of the low blood sugar anxiety and my mind satrts to obsess with food because “we need something nourishing ASAP”. There was a time when I got anxiety attacks after seeing someone eating white bread because my mind started to empathisize and think “what if they get low blood sugar because white bread is not healthy?” and that’s why I ate only rye bread. And sometimes I felt like I need to put away a piece of rye bread in case of them feeling low blood sugar so I can help them if they suddenly get low blood sugar. And if I ran out of bread at work, I would be so anxious the whole time because what if I get low blood sugar but have nothing to eat? That’s why I still carry fruit sugar pills with me everywhere I go - I don’t necessarily need to eat them, but it makes me feel better to know they are there if I need them. I immediately get anxious if I don’t have any with me and I start to create “escape plans” and how to get something to eat and where to get something to eat if there’s an “emergency”.
I’d say it’s some sort of an eating disorder but I don’t know what. It has nothing to do with losing weight or binge eating, basically it might be bit like when people want to eat as healthy as possible but it’s not that either. It’s just me “feeding” my anxiety because HSP makes me feel hunger stronger than how others feel it. I get the biggest anxiety only when I know I either don’t have access to food or when I have access but the situation might include social anxiety - schools are the worst because can’t just walk out of the room. Even at work I sometimes had food anxiety when I was driving horses because I knew I could have not taken a fruit sugar pill because I needed both my hands for driving.
Idk why I felt like opening up now. All this just because of a neighbour barbecuing? Weird.
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17. Christmas Evening
Don’t have the time/patience/desire to read with your eyes? Don’t have eyes? Well, have your friend read you this: You can check out the audiobook for free on Apple, Google, Stitcher, or Spotify. Subscribe for new episodes every Wednesday!
25 December 2054
After the relieved anticipation of opening new Christmas presents, the logical next step to sustaining Holiday Excitement is to try out the gifts as soon as possible. Aside from inevitable outliers, this is how most kids and honest adults spend the latter half of their Christmas and the end of their calendar year.
The reactions to Lucidity were slightly more ambiguous. Some families were ecstatic about the new technology. Others weren't quite sure what to make of it. In most cases, because it was the children receiving Lucidity as a Christmas gift, there was an extra level of anxiety for many parents as they anticipated their children trying it for the first time.
Like their parents, many of the gift receivers also didn't know what to make of the new technology. They had a feeling it was some sort of grand new paradigm shift, but they weren't sure what exactly they would do with it yet--after all, there was currently only one application on the device.
Others, however, were, for the first time in their lives, excited to go to sleep on Christmas night. A handful of the more unconsciously-oriented receivers had actively thought at one point or another in their life about what it would be like to play back their dreams. It was these children who were most immediately excited for the new technology. The rest were, in general, just happy to have something new and cutting edge.
This difference in attitudes toward this new technology was perfectly displayed in the reactions of the Caston and Miller family.
The Castons had enjoyed their Christmas, going for a walk around the mountains, watching Lex's live announcement about Lucidity, having a dinner with a few neighborhood friends, and just taking it easy in general, finding time to be grateful for the company of their small family. By the time the evening rolled around, Snow had resigned himself to another Christmas completed, his seventeenth, perhaps the twelfth he could really remember. By 2000h, he was packing up his clothes and organizing them in his room.
'Snow?' his mother knocked on his open door and peeked her head inside. 'Are you going to bed?'
'Not yet. Just putting stuff away.'
'Sounds good, honey. When you are ready to go to bed, just let me and dad know, and we can all try out Lucidity together.'
'Okay.'
'If you still want to.'
'Yeah. I'm interested in seeing what it's all about.'
'Okay, honey.' Emilie walked out the room and downstairs to wait with her husband in the living room.
'Does he still want to do it?' asked Darren
'Yes, he told me he does.'
'You didn't pressure him or anything, did you?'
'No! Of course not. I mean, I really did want to do it tonight. I've been kind of anxious about it all day. But, no, I didn't pressure him at all.'
'That's good.' Darren leaned back on the couch and shut his eyes for a moment. 'It is a bit anxiety-inducing, isn't it?'
'Mm.'
'I mean, we don't really know what's going to happen.'
'It kind of reminds me of the first time you smoke pot, or something like that.'
'It's like we're about to drink some Electric Kool-Aid. Will we see pink elephants? Who knows.'
'You know, that sort of does scare me.'
'What does?'
'You know, like--are we going to do something irreversible? It's like those rumors we used to hear about taking acid--how it might get stuck in the brain stem, and you start tripping forever.'
'Well, yes, Emilie, but this isn't a drug, per se.'
'It reads your dreams!'
'Yeah?'
'That's about as intense as any drug I've used.'
'Yes, but it doesn't affect your perception. It just reads your perception.'
'I guess you're right.'
'I thought about this a lot, Emilie,' Darren leaned forward and looked his wife in the eye, 'I mean, you know I was against even getting Snow on this train for the longest time. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It really does read your mind--but it doesn't write to your mind. That's an important distinction. When you take a drug, that is literally changing your brain chemistry . But this, I guess you could say, is just the opposite. Your mind is what influences it.'
'I guess so. But technology does change your mind, in a lot of ways. Remember when cell phones first came out? No, you're too young.'
'You're only two years older than me!'
'I know, I know. So I don't remember it either. But I do remember my mom telling me about when cell phones came out, and she and all her friends would feel this phantom vibrating in her pocket.'
'I remember that when I got my first iPhone.'
'Right! So you know it. It was happening with the smart phones too. But you see, with the smart phones, there was even more to it. People would compulsively check their phones. They would mess up their circadian rhythms by looking at the screen until they set their phone down right next to them to go to bed. It was soon common knowledge that people got a dopamine hit from looking at their likes and notifications.'
'Right, I've heard all that, too.'
'So that changed people's brains. And you and I were born in Gen Z, so we didn't know a world without it. But who knows how that's changed the human species.'
'We've evolved.'
'Maybe. But in that case it would appear that we chose our own evolution. Or Steve Jobs did, anyway.'
'So I guess the question is, do we want Lex to handle our next evolution.'
'In a way he already has. The real question is, do we let him take it even farther?'
'Are you two ready?' Snow had just come down the stairs, already dressed for bed.
Emilie responded to her own question: 'It looks like we're about to.'
'Yes, son, lets enter the future!' Darren said and smiled at Snow. 'Do you have your Lucidity?'
'Yup, got it right here,' Snow said, holding up his playing card-sized box. There was no plastic wrap on the product--even if it had been bought at the store, that wasn't Lex's preferred style. Too much waste. Instead a small white circle on the top of the box showed that it had not yet been opened.
The box itself was beautiful. It was made of a tough cardboard with a matte finish that made it feel almost metal. As with most Lucid products, the white circle on the top edge of the box represented a magnet. As soon as the top was lifted off the product, the circle darkened and the magnet ceased to work. Underneath the lid, laid into the center of a tray made of the same firm material as the box, was a patch about the size of a quarter. The outer rim, where 'L I B E R T Y' would normally have been spelled, was outlined in a bold white, finished in matte so it didn't reflect the light very harshly. From the rim inward, the item was totally black.
Snow held the patch in his hand. 'So do you, like, have to glue it on or something?'
Darren smiled. He hadn't been told the answer to this one, but he knew it anyway. 'Do you see an instruction booklet?'
'No.'
'That's Lex's way of assuring us that we know exactly what to do with it. It's the same ethic Steve Jobs brought to Apple. Intuitive simplicity that transcends a manual.'
'Oh, what would we do without Steve Jobs,' Emilie said, rolling her eyes.
'Anyway,' Darren said, 'you should only have to place the patch on your temple. He wouldn't have made it any more complicated than that.'
'Oh.'
'And you should probably have your Lenses on--but it looks like you do.' Darren now held his Lucidity in his hand, as did his wife. 'Are we ready?'
Together, the members of the Caston family touched the Lucidity to their temples, just as they had seen Lex do on stage one week ago. Snow was surprised at how it seemed to latch onto his skin without him even feeling it. He ran his hand over the patch. It felt much smoother than he expected. He could hardly tell where the patch ended and his skin began. His father was right--the patch had been masterfully designed. Now to see if it worked.
A small notification appeared about a foot in front of Snow's face. He could tell by his parents' reactions that they were looking at the same thing. The notification took the form of a three-dimensional virtual representation of the Patch. Underneath it were the words: 'Would you like to Pair Lucidity with your Lenses?' and under those, two boxes with affirmative and negatory commands.
Snow waved his hand over 'yes'. After a brief loading period, a card appeared in front of him requesting that he place one finger on the center of the patch and hold it. He did as he was told. An icon in the shape of the Patch appeared on the right of his field of vision with a prompt requesting he swipe the icon to his right. As Snow swiped the Virtual Patch into the center of his field of vision, it expanded into two separate icons--the obligatory gear for settings and what looked like purple 'Z's rising and expanding until they dissipated into fog. In the near future, Snow imagined this screen would be filled with even more applications.
'Why don't we sync up?' Darren asked. 'I always feel like we share the experience better that way.'
The family accessed their Lenses’ Quick Menu from the top left of their field of vision and turned on Lens Syncing, allowing them to see what everyone else was seeing. Sure enough, each member of the Caston family had the same two icons floating in front of them. Darren waved his hand over the settings and revealed a small menu listing an option for general settings above a list of the apps on the device (Lucid Dream being the only one). Other than that, there were options for touch sensitivity and control.
'The main settings for Lucid Dream must be in the app itself,' Darren said, closing the menu.
'I'm going in,' said Snow, waving his hand over the Lucid Dream Icon. One of the 'Z's floating out of the icon grew to the size of Snow's head and expanded into a slab of purple fog. On the fog was written, "Welcome to Lucid Dream. Would you like to record your dreams tonight?"
Snow looked at his parents. 'Well? We're really doing it, aren't we?'
Emilie nodded. 'Let's see what this is all about.'
As the Caston family agreed to have their dreams recorded for the night, the Millers were getting ready for bed just down the road.
'Alright, everyone got their patch on?' Ricky said to the family gathered before him.
'God, dad, you can see our freaking heads.'
'Ricky 2. Come on.' Ricky shot his son a dirty glance. 'What I meant to ask, I guess, is whether everybody is ready.'
'I don't like how this feels,' said Sera.
'You can't feel it at all!' said Ricky 2.
'You don't know what I can feel, Ricky 2.'
'It's not supposed to feel like anything.'
'Come on, you guys,' said Shelly. 'If Sera says she can feel it, I’m sure she does. Maybe she is just too small for Lucidity.'
'No, mom!' said Sera. 'I want to do it!'
'Family, family,' said Ricky. ‘We're all going to do it. Chill out, alright?'
The family navigated through the menus and set up Lucid Dream. When they finished agreeing to the request of the purple fog, Ricky 2 spoke up again.
'Is that really all there is? I want my money back. Jesus.'
'You have to go to sleep, stupid,' Sera said.
'She's right, dear,' said Shelly. 'When you wake up, then you can watch your dreams. Isn't that cool?'
'I guess so,' said Ricky 2. 'I guess I hope I have some good dreams.'
'I never dream,' said Sera.
'Everybody dreams,' said Ricky 2. 'You just don't remember it.'
'Well,' said their father, 'I guess tonight we'll see if that's the case. Alright, kids, ready for bed?'
'Yeah, let's see what this baby can do!' Ricky 2 said. He gave his parents a hug and a kiss, thanked them for a good Christmas, and made his way upstairs to his bedroom, hoping simultaneously that he dreamed up something sexy and that his parents didn't ask to watch his dreams the following morning.
#New Idaho#Ben Vizy#New Novel#Writing#Writing Community#Novelist#Novel Writing#2054#Augmented Reality#Futurism#Unboxing#Christmas Evening
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Regal Keto Implementation
Take in more here about the advantages of outrageous temperatures
Fast mental tip: If you're remaining under cold water pondering the amount you need to get out, you won't make it. Rather, center around the vibe of cool, or of the water hitting your skin. Stand tall as opposed to shying ceaselessly. This is the place versatility comes in: acknowledge that you're awkward, and perceive that it will be alright. It constrains you out of your dissenting personality and into the present minute. Along these lines, a chilly shower ends up reflective and useful for your science.
Stick it out for 2-3 minutes. Congrats! You've finished the very first moment of the versatility challenge.
Complete an advanced detox
The normal individual devours 174 papers of data each day.[1] Distraction is dependably readily available. Feeling forlorn? Draw up Facebook. Exhausted? Peruse the news. Unbalanced Regal Keto quiet in a lift? Check Instagram.
Online networking is intended to be as invigorating as could be allowed, and when your cerebrum becomes accustomed to that dimension of moment delight, something like a wonderful dusk or a calm minute ends up good for nothing. Nothing unexpected that utilizing internet based life has solid connections to sorrow and nervousness. Genuine can't contend with the interminable, falsely serious incitement of innovation. Jettisoning that speedy hit of dopamine gives you a chance to get back in contact with the basic joys of life, which constructs joy and appreciation.
Try not to fill the little snapshots of your day with online life, news, TV, computer games, or legislative issues. Erase all your online networking and news applications from your telephone for the following 24 hours. You can generally download them once more. You can likewise utilize a free site blocker like SelfControl to keep you off Facebook and news locales while you're at your PC. Focus on when you go after a diversion, and notice how you feel when you don't get it. It may be more awkward than you anticipate. Grasp that uneasiness for now.
Get dismissed deliberately
Experiment with dismissal treatment — when you request things you figure you won't get, hoping to hear "no." I compose progressively about this procedure in "Distinct advantages." You'll rapidly discover that being rejected isn't such a major ordeal. You'll endure the "no's," and you'll just get harder the more you hear them. So effectively search out dismissal today. Here are a few instances of approaches to get rejected: Strike up a discussion with an outsider, or request a markdown whenever you purchase something. The outcomes may astonish you, and you'll likely be dismissed less habitually than anticipated. You'll understand that individuals need to help other people when given the shot. People are wonderful.
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September 24, 2018 (Monday)
This Monday was meh..
These are coming later and later but it’s really hard to have time to write. Even when I have time I can honestly say I’m not thinking about wanting to write but just have my time if you know what I mean. Monday is hospital day at LPH.
I enjoy LPH more than the rural health clinic because I feel the more I go there the more I have familiarity with the people and they don’t mind getting to know me. I can tell they enjoy my company and want to know more about me. The Emergency room here had only one nurse and one doctor with maybe two technicians. I always arrive on time at LPH and leave at noon especially when there are no patients.
The nurse todays name was Lyna. She was very proper and super busy today. Their was at a point 8 patients kind of laying around, some sick some not so sick. The lesson of the day is that Filipino nurses do not panic. Even when I see an obvious peoblem, Lyna’s temperament didn’t change.
An elderly patient had a blood pressure of 80/40, and it stayed that way for an hour. I placed her IV and connected it to the Iv tubing directly, letting it drip slow. All patients who received an IV had it connected to an IV bag at a slow drip rate. I read the hand written orders and it stated to give a 200 ml bolus.
After about 30 minutes the patients blood pressure has not improved and I notice the nurse was hanging dopamine. I see her “eye balling” a slow drip rate. Not really counting but just eye balling it. I noticed because they still were a total needle system, even in their IV tubings for medication administration, they had no proper way to connect another Secondary to the already hanging IV fluids. Lyna hangs a secondary line and then connects the bottom to a twist on needle and then tapes the needle to secure it to the main fluids line. It seemed so ghetto rigged. I was shocked and impressed all in one.
I sat down and told the doctor how different it was here, I said normally we would hang a couple of liters of fluid to bolus her and try to hydrate her first before jumping to dopamine. The doctor said she’s bolused her 200cc but didn’t want to fluid overload her. I didn’t want to say, “well according to my research and CEN background only 200 ml's of a liter bolus make it into someone’s intravascular space.” That would come off douche like. I was here to learn and I sure did!
They were super resourceful. They didn’t have much time to “play around” and see if step one and two work. I rechecked the patients blood pressure and it was 125/62. The nurse looked at me and said, “see we don’t panic like you do ahahahahahah” as she interpretated a panic Courtney. I pretty much nodded as a touché touché but still like my comforts of monitors and computers. I honestly would want to have these nurse lead a world apocalypse. Because the US would be like chickens with their heads cut off from living the work life so comfortably.
It’s funny to think that the United States has strikes and unions when others are working 16 hour shifts with no break or extra pay. They make it work because it has to work. They can’t afford to cross their arms and say something isn’t fair.
After work I went volunteer for the visayans office to start a powerpoint presentation on CPR. I was asked to teach CPR to grades 11 and 12 in the northern Tacloban School. I was there for hours making the presentation and still didn’t finish. I felt like I overstated my welcome on Flitz’s laptop and headed home. I planned on finishing the PowerPoint later.
When I went home. I do what I always do if it’s too early for dinner. I go upstairs to my hot sauna room and take a bucket bath and the lay on my bed with no clothes on and have the fan pointing at me. That’s not typical of me but I think everyone has their ways of coping with the heat. I motivated myself to get up and go for a run to the convention center. It was exactly three miles. In the HEAT.
I came back and was pouring sweat. It was a smooth run around 9 min mile pace. I ate dinner then headed impstairs. I felt… achy. After I took another bucket bath. I noticed when the water hit my body it was as if it hurt my bones. Like someone touched me with a tuning fork. Each bucket was the same shocking feeling. I brushed my teeth and peed bright yellow pee and went to bed feeling a bit off.
I fell asleep around 730pm. I felt very weird, but I awoke to the water turning on and filling my bath bucket up. I had chills, body ache, and sore throat. I looked at my throat and it was full of exudate, red, and swollen. I panicked and didn’t want to feel terrible. I dug into my meds and took Motrin and a z-Pak. I didn’t have many options but it was the closest I could get.
I bucket bathed once again. Layed in bed until I fell asleep.
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It’s not that simple
I thought stable meant stable. I mean I take the meds every evening, and though they don’t let me sleep and cause some dizzy spells, they are working really great. I reacted so incredibly well on the smallest dose I was really hesitant to increase to the next level. However, a couples days prior to upping I could tell a difference. That seems to be the rotation I will be following until I get to a respectable dose.
The anxiety is back. I woke up with it. Not entirely foreign, but definitely not the norm. I’ve started the deep breaths again which sucks. A lot. The weight is starting to increase in my chest, my shoulders are having a harder time staying relaxed, my mind seems resolute on refusing to focus. And then it shifts to that darker and yet scintillatingly greater place.
The addictive delusion of grandeur, my internal monologue of self centered thinking starts. It dances and swirls around the equally destructive increased sex drive, which arrives in tandem with these thoughts and creates a double helix of bad ideas. Even now I sit here thinking about delicious mistakes, impulsive behaviors, terrible actions I wouldn’t be able to come back from. And while picturing shameful fantasies I simply think “I can pick up the pieces later”. My sexuality kicks into overdrive and I’m desperate to find a man to satiate it- ugh that sounds so stupid.And, ya. I said man. Bisexuality doesn’t really present much since I have been with the wife for so long. I don’t bother defining cuz there is no point. I’m not a gay or a bi, I’m a “Her”. But in these moods, I am as straight as an arrow and yearn to be man handled and fucked into oblivion. I know that’s crass but it’s the only thing I can think of. I grit my teeth and try to focus on work as best as I can. It’s painfully awkward to speak to anyone in this state. Mercifully, the mood passes like a receding wave and the pressure on my chest returns. Maybe I should increase the meds sooner... maybe my body fights the improved mood too hard. But I wonder if it has anything to do with the exercise yesterday.
I used to condition daily in high school for basketball. I would go to the elementary school basketball court in my neighborhood and practice without requirement because the act of pushing myself was addictive. I would run miles around my block in a neighborhood were no one went running. In college the internal discipline continued as gym days were any day that ended in Y. Then something happened in my late twenties; the long time love of physical exertion abandoned me. I wasn’t the same. I somehow managed to run a couple marathons but it was during the reprieves of the disorder. Since the bipolar hit in full force (6 years ago? 5?) I’ve gained almost 30 pounds, become a sedentary, miserable, gluttonous sloth. I’ve been told liquor and alcohol stimulate the dopamine receptors in your brain mimicking the feelings of happiness. It makes sense then that people (read: I) tend to find refuge in these vices.
Since the meds, the yearning has stopped, at least for the vices. The liquor impulses have receded significantly (which is amazing but I’ll explain that later). Yesterday, I challenged my meds to see where I was at after the mrs. inspired.
She played golf this weekend and a 2 hour tennis match. Yesterday she played another round of golf in 95 degree weather then played another 2 hour match outside on blazing clay courts. She kicked ass- and I was there to support. Something I miss out on constantly when unmedicated. She walks off the court as red as a pomegranate and exhausted but happy. I felt, in comparison, like a sack of fat. So instead of joining her for dinner, I went for a run.
It was still rather warm, so I assumed I would collapse after the first half mile. I turned on my run tracker and set off hesitantly. Mile one flew by like a breeze. I felt almost manic in my happiness. Turning the corner after the next block, I decided I was determined to run 2 miles, and found to have the energy to do so, so I kicked up the speed (which by the way isn't much- an 11:30 mile is rather good for me so "kicking it up” is a 11:00). I typically run with music, but marathon training has shown me the benefits of running with only your breathing as a soundtrack. That’s what I choose to do this run. It allows me to ensure that I don’t short myself and start wheezing too early. But by the time I hit the mid way point on my second mile I could feel an ache settling in. I began to panic. I wasn't ready to quit but I didn't think I could complete the 2 miles if I continued the same way. My last recourse was to use my phone as a speaker. I know that's pretty obnoxious but I didn’t care. Speaker in my hand I slowed slightly, determined to hit my target. I started the internal conversation I used to have with myself.
I scolded my quads, angry at my body for thinking it could stop before my mind commanded it. Then a song came on, one of my youth. One that I would use to sink into the pain and lean into my illness as a sort of comfort. I almost skipped it but something pulled at me. I kept it on, and went back to my run. Bipolar hasn’t allowed me to enjoy music from certain bands, because as soon as I hear it I immediately sink into a dark place. Jimmy Eat World is one. Their track “Kill” is the worst. As I ran, it the opening guitar strumming began to play.
Funny how I'm nervous still
I've always been the easy kill
I guess I always will
The more it sang, the faster I went. I listened to the lyrics. I started to sing. I realized I was singing to myself. Simply mouthing at first, then I began to whisper the familiar bridge between huffing breaths and felt a hit to the heart. 30 seconds into it I realized I was addressing myself, the bipolar victim that I’d been for years.
Oh God, please don't tell me this has been in vain
I need answers for what all the waiting I've done means
You kill me, you've got some nerve, but can't face your mistakes
I pushed on. My phone’s GPS interrupted and told me I had hit two miles. I ignored it and focused on the song in the background. I tore out.
So go on love
Leave while there's still hope for escape
Got to take what you can these days
There's so much ahead
So much regret
That was it- I was sprinting. I was screaming at myself in my own head. Angry that I hadn’t been able to do this in so long. Angry that I couldn’t or wouldn’t push myself. Angry that it had been years since my muscles were forced to build up that lactic acid because I fucking said so. Then the lyrics that are normally my undoing approached. At the anticipation of the next words, I know I'm about to break
I can't help it baby, this is who I am
Despite my wants, tears begin to stream down my face
Sorry, but I can't just go turn off how I feel
Impossibly, I push harder , run faster. I want to force it out. I don't want to hear this any more.
You kill me, you build me up, but just to watch me break
I scream. Out loud. To no one. And everyone.
I know what I should do, but I just can't walk away
I stifle one more scream as I lunge the last few steps.
"Workout ended. Total distance 2.25 miles. Average Pace 10 minutes 42 seconds. Fastest pace, 8 minutes 59 seconds"
A smirk breaks across my face. At least as well as a smirk can creep along your face when you are dying from over exertion. I began to walk in order to regaining the breath I cannot find. Laughing as I finish the loop, I feel lighter than I have in years.
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