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hiswhiteknight · 4 years

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Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 1

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1900

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It has been a long time coming, you haven’t been on a real vacation since you graduated high school. You joined the Marines immediately, went into training and university. With you, it was always work, work, work. For you, it made sense since your brother was a Navy Seal and you both didn’t really have family. And you didn’t stay anywhere long enough to make super close friends to vacation with. But this trip, this was for you and only you.

You got your degrees in psychology, battle strategies, and world cultures, but your true love was literature. You made it this far living a pretty isolated life because of your brother and your books. You generally just loved to read, so after leaving the Marines, before you started to find your new pathway you said you were going to take this vacation around Europe stopping in different places described or lived in by some of your favorite authors. Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Sir Doyle, Thomas Malory, etc. And it’s been amazing seeing all these places that inspired your idols, imagining how your favorite fictional characters lived.

And here, alas you were in Scotland. Not necessarily because one of your favorite fictional characters lived here or your favorite author grew up near here, but because of your brother. He wanted you to explore where you both came from, he felt it would help understand life before you both lost your parents. Plus, he was a huge history buff – it was his hobby outside the Seals.

He told you all about the battles and culture amongst the decades before us. He told you about our Irish and Scottish ancestors. He’d tell you, you can’t have a name like Y/N O’Mulligain and not think of the Irish.

There was this nearby village you were passing through. An author named Diana Gabaldon wrote a romance novel based on this rock formation. Your old college roommate wrote a thesis paper about historically accurate romance novels and pop culture. You thought, what the hell, since your here minus well check it out.

It was strange at first, wondering through this supposed magical place. People clearly flocked here for Outlander’s popularity. You more enjoyed watching the people. You sat against a tree, pulled out a sandwich from your bag, and watched the middle age woman touch these rocks like they were the rock hard abs of a character from Outlander. It was quite amusing. You liked to think your mother would be doing the same thing if she were still alive.

“You must not be a fan, girly,” you look up to an older woman, clearly Scottish from her accent.

Shaking your head, standing up to shake her hand, “Is it that obvious,” you laugh, “I’m Y/N. Just a tourist, watching other tourist. That obvious hugh?”

“Mary, deary,” she grinned answering you with her name while look up at you. You were about five three, but this woman had to be four feet something tall because she was tiny, “Just by the way you’re gazing all around, a girl looking for her own adventure, not through someone else’s eyes or story, but of your own.”

“You get all that from just looking at me,” you laughed, looking at her curiously. You loved people like this, authentic and wily – it was usually the case with old people.

“It’s the glimmer in your eye,” she gripped your chin softly, shaking it.

You laughed, smiling down at her, “May I ask you a question? Do you believe the tales of this place? I know the Scottish culture has a lot of tall tales and superstitions, but a story like that?”

“Aaa,” she nodded her head, “A skeptic,” she nodded, “These people wandering about, they don’t really believe in the tale. But I believe in the magic of this place, it just doesn’t work from anyone. It’s for the special.”

Watching her with amusement and skepticism, you laugh nodding your head, “I hope I didn’t offend you with my question.”

“No, of course not dear – though I believe in the magic of this place. I mostly come to watch these woman fawning over these rocks. I like to bet on which woman will kiss one of those moldy old things.” You laughed so loud, she grinned up at you, “I am about to go home to my hunny Wallace, but you stay here for me? Those three woman over there,” you looked in the direction she was pointing, “I believe they are each going to lick one of these things.”

Laughing again, you nodded, “I’ll keep a close eye on them. It was an absolute pleasure, ma’am,” she gripped your hand tightly for a second before releasing.

You sat back, glancing at those women laughing, “And dear,” you look back up to her, “Most people will be leaving to their beds or finding a pub, but you should stay. While the sun is setting – this place will give you the most magical sights.”

She truly intrigued you, “Of course ma’am, thank you again.”

“Enjoy your adventure lass,” she grinned once more, walking off down the path.

She was right, people started to trickle out. Husbands getting annoyed or bored, ladies feeling exhausted, or people just fearsome of loss of light – they just left group by group. You were left alone eventually, starring at the sun sinking into the horizon. She was right again, Scotland was magical with sights. You took a mental picture of this moment – the smooth silence, the color the sky made, and just being one with this experience. Your life was never slow, silent, or peaceful. You had always lived in the rush of things. But here, you sat taking in this moment. You felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

The sun eventually went down and you were met with near darkness – which exception of the full moon. You collected your things and got ready to leave. And it dawned on you – you came all this way and have never even touched these rocks. The book aside, these rocks have had legends and tales for centuries. You should respect the stories and culture. With one touch, maybe you’ll feel the stories, tales, and people that touched it before you.

It felt odd to reach out and touch the stone. It was cool and surprising smooth. You laughed at the thought of all the tongues that touched this exact spot. And with a single breathe, everything grew black and all the air punched out of you.

Next thing you felt was the slam of the ground and your oxygen returning to your lungs. The sun from the tree burned your eyes. And you heard it, gun shots. You thought you were having another Post-Traumatic Stress attack, but the second bang brought you to reality. And you started to run, your bag still on your back, darting through the trees. You heard shouts, but you were not taking the chance. Being in the military, you didn’t stand still to figure it out.

Someone gripped your arm as you ran past them, pointing a sword right in your face, “Are you for real,” I yell at them.

He had a musket pointing directly in your face. You stopped breathing; he was dressed like a 18th century soldier. Thoughts sped in your mind, could this be a reenactment? Could this be a sick joke? The bullet sounds shook you out of your thoughts, the man was about to speak. You grabbed his musket, yanking it towards your body. The gun went off as his head smashed into yours. He groaned, tripping backwards, and smashing against a tree. The light from the headbutt blasted on in your head.

The light started to blind through, and the forest became vivid again. The sound of bullet fire caused you jump out of it and look at the man unconscious before you. You had to be dreaming, everything was so real. The sound, the smell, the world around you. Where and when were you exactly? You got drug out of your thoughts as a bullet graved your arm. You gasped in pain and your body took flight again. On the run again, you slide down an embankment, meeting eye to eye with another redcoat.

You gasped, “Holy hell,” you whispered looking at the man, “Forgive me,” you said out loud, as the man watched you, straightening up. You saw his insignia, “Captain?”

“Jonathan Randall, Esquire – Eighth Dragoon of your majesty’s army, mistress,” he answered.

Something inside you reminisced, that name was familiar. Watching him closely, as he made his micromovements - he was also watching you, like some predator to prey, “I seem to be in the wrong time, wrong place,” you awkwardly laughed.

“It does seem that,” he paused to see if you’d introduce yourself.

“I had someone taking me to some distant family and they tried to attack and rob me,” you tried to play the damsel in distress, “My brother always told me I was too trusting.”

“Yes mistress, women are naïve sheep,” he tiptoed towards you, his hand resting on his sword, “Your accent,” he nodded towards you. You slowly started taking steps back, “I’m unfamiliar with it.”

He didn’t believe you, clearly you were off your game. Maybe it’s because the blast you took a few minutes ago getting you to this point. It could be the fact that this was surreal, “I’m grew up in the colonies,” you shrugged it off, you could only imagine how far away your accent was to actually existing, “But my brother sent me to our parent’s home country after their passing.”

You forgot the first rule of lying, keep it short with no unneeded details. His uniform was familiar, the military and your brother trained you well. You had inclined the year and it was clear the woods of Scotland were not safe with the Redcoats. This man was an enemy, not a gentleman of the era you’ve heard and learned so much about. You had to get away, find safety, and figure out what exactly is going on.

You knew self-defense, hell you were trained well at the art of combat, but this man had weapons and the only thing you had was a backpack and no adequate footwear for a run in the woods, “You don’t dress like a lady,” he motioned towards your clothes. You stop breathing at this, “In fact, only traitorous women wear clothes such as this,” your back was against the hill behind you. His breath was on you. He gripped your neck tightly, “There is only one way to deal with a woman like yourself,” he went for his buckle.

Your brother drilled into you about protection during moments like this. He trained you on what to do, it was natural. Headbutt to the nose, hike up of the knee, a tool – in your case a rock – to the head. And soon you were breathing heavily and looking at the Captain unconscious on the ground.

The sound of the Redcoats was not far off, “Druid,” you heard. You were surprised that someone could sneak so close and not make any noise. This Scottish looking fellow reached out his hands, “Come now,” he said. Your only instinct was to take it for now. This man pulled you behind a tree.

“What year is it,” you whispered to him.

“1743,” he mumbled, trying to shush me, taking the time to give you a questionable look.

“Pinch me,” you were hoping this to be a dream. It was a final test of your predicament. He looked at you strangely before helping with your request. He did, and you felt it and suddenly everything went black.

PART 2

#jamie fraser imagine #jamie frazier x reader #jamie fraser #outlander imagine #outlander #outlander fanfiction

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chibifoxwrites · 3 years

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Since someone showed interest

During my rewrite for Cyber Heroine, it was originally going to be 100% based on the manga for Megaman NT Warrior with some occasional details from the anime and games thrown in. Some of the stuff stayed for the current, other stuff did not. Here were some ideas I had drafted:

The main cast were high school age, not elementary school.

Netto and her friends had drifted away come middle school but would get back together as friends during high school.

Netto was a loner and would spend her free time coding food, clothes, and toys for Net Navi’s, which is how she got income on the side. She is an unofficial intern at Sci-Labs since they double check her work.

The link was already in place thanks to X. Netto and Rockman have a betting pool as to when Yuuichiro was going to tell Netto that she used to have a twin.

70% of the twins using the mental link is just to share bud puns, jokes, and memes.

Many of Netto’s classmates thought that her parents were divorced since Yuuichiro was never seen at home for more than a day or so.

It was known amongst Netto’s friends and peers that Rockman was modeled after Saito.

Netto and Rockman operated under the aliases of Aile and Vent, a famous hacker duo who operated like the Leverage team. Most of their crimes were giving back data stolen by major corporations to their rightful developers.

Multiple civilian Net Battlers actually fought against WWW if they were registered as B-rank or above, but only if they were near the attack site.

Many of the WWW attacks were actually targeting Netto, with those specifically being arranged by the Professor. Wily did not want anyone killed but hurt was fine.

To keep her cover, Netto had a wardrobe for her regular outfits and one for her Aile outfits.

Enzan and “Aile” had a Batman/Catwoman kind of relationship, where Enzan’s nickname was Mr. Official.

Rockman already had Style Change but had to undergo a trial for Saito Style.

Enzan was not their heir to a major corporation but the heir to a very old family involved in law enforcement, hence his involvement in police work at such a young age.

Enzan was jealous that another teenager, one that had better scores than him, was brought onto the force.

Netto and Enzan’s relationship was like that of Sakura and Syaoran.

When Rockman was first deleted, Blues would come over and watch Studio Ghibli and Disney films with Netto to just be there for her.

Mamoru was still the same age as when he first appeared in canon and raised by his aunt Tamako. He lived with her in the countryside when he wasn’t in the hospital. Netto would bring him books and games to keep him occupied. When Netto wasn’t around, he played with Serenade.

Serenade was VERY protective of Mamoru and would do anything to help Netto since she could make their NetOp laugh even when he was having a bad day.

Much of Rockman and Forte’s drama/rivalry was due to Netto. Forte wanted Netto to forsake humanity and be his friend/partner like when she was a kid, but Netto wanted to stay with Rockman and wouldn't turn against humanity.

Despite rejecting his offer, Forte would still come to Netto’s defense if she and Rockman were attacked.

Arcadia existed as a civilization of programs before it was attacked by a splinter cell in Sci-Labs led by Regal. Neo Arcadia was built by the remnants of the first attack.

The Four Guardians (Harpuia, Fefnir, Leviathan, Phantom) were condensed into small files and turned into the Element Programs, which Netto and Rockman stole back.

While operating as Aile in real life, Netto would use the Guardians.

Blues was made from data stolen from Arcadia and was created to be a prototype independent Net Navi that was the perfect soldier aka a Forte that only followed orders.

Laika and Netto were penpals as Laika stayed with the Hikari family when he was younger due to Sharro’s economy and his mother’s declining health. Yuuichiro and Laika’s mother were colleagues, so Laika stayed in Electopia until the economy got better and a permanent home could be found for him.

When the Cyber World and Real Worlds temporarily merged, Alia and Haruka had a girl’s day out.

Saito Style going out of control was due to repressed anger form both Netto and Rockman.

Netto has access to pop culture that didn't come about as planned because of the universe reboot so every once in a while, she makes a reference that nobody understands.

The cover for the illegal Net Battles was movie night, using movie from before the timeline reboot, hence Code 80s Dance Party.

When Double Soul activated, Netto got to keep chips of it like in the anime and people volunteered to try it with Rockman.

Dark Rockman was one of the multiple attempts of Yuuichiro trying to bring back Saito but deemed it a failure when it would not activate. He became a Darkloid due to the anger of being thrown away and abandoned.

Dark Rockman tried to force Netto to go Perfect Synchro with him. When she refused, he tried to kill Netto himself instead of having Shademan do it.

Netto was revealed as Aile during the Netopia Arc but was never formally arrested due to X being involved plus many people lobbying for her release.

Netto also had an identity crisis as to if she was really Hikari Netto or Aile Light due to past life memories.

The Netopia Arc had some real repercussions since the military technically abducted a citizen of another country under false pretenses, which is how X got properly introduced in person.

X, Zero, and Axl were merely mentioned until the Netopia Arc, where they actually showed up. Up until then, the only action they took was smiting opponents they knew ordinary Net Navis could not defeat.

Data Ghosts of the original Classic Robot Masters appeared to stop Nebula Grey.

There were only 3 Cyber Elves and they were larger than most Net Navis.

Cyber Elves had their own language and Netto would slip into it at times of high stress.

Forte was caught because he came to movie night and many were put under arrest for not reporting Forte’s whereabouts, including Blues, Searchman, and Tomohawkman.

X fist fought Duo to save the planet when it was found out that Slur rigged the entire trial.

Rockman got both of Gregar and Falzar’s data, not just Gregar.

Cache found a way to absorb the world like in the anime, not the Cybeasts like in the manga.

Trill was a prototype Net Navi for a Sci-Labs program that would allow Net Navis to have children of their own. He was created during the one year that Rockman was missing.

In the workshopped Ryuusei no Rockman spin-off of the series, Trill grew up to be the King of the Net Navis that fled Earth with the help of Duo when they became completely obsolete outside of basic functions and even helped Subaru return to Earth because it was what his older brother Rockman would want.

Subaru and Misora were main characters who came to the past to help stop Cache and were able to travel back in time thanks to Trill.

By the time Ryuusei no Rockman comes about, there is entire semester dedicated to the ‘Cyber Wars’ aka Netto and friends fighting crime. Subaru is an expert, has all the documentaries, and even fought Gonta for a replica of her headband.

Each college has at least one history degree path that covers history from before the universe reboot and is dedicated to finding the data and traces of it. Sharro has the leading university in the world concerning this subject and a statue of General Laika is in the lobby of the main building.

Cities, buildings, and other landmarks are named after Netto and her friends.

#cyber heroine #plot ideas

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Review : The Tomorrow War (2021)

HBOMax and Netflix both had entries for the weekend of July 4, so it only makes sense that Amazon Prime would make sure that their presence was felt as well. After the swing at big budget glory that was Infinite, Amazon Prime’s recent science-fiction offering starring Mark Wahlberg, another big box office presence finds himself as the face of an Amazon production in the form of Chris Pratt, the household name whose fame grew after a stint in Parks & Rec and a star-making role as Peter Quill in the MCU’s Guardians of the Galaxy franchise. Based on the trailers, the film has all the trappings of a big budget, special effects and action-driven popcorn flick, so I decided to give it a shot.

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If it weren’t for the deep science-fiction premise, The Tomorrow War could almost be mistaken as a commentary on the Military Industrial Complex, like an inverse take on the Starship Troopers approach. Watching Dan Forestor instantly transform from a teacher and family man into his former war-hardened soldier form feels noble in terms of its intent, and maybe it’s just the cynic in me, but it immediately puts a coldness on the entire future war affair, as if pure detachment is needed to survive a threat that draftees are given zero time to comprehend. The fact that a worldwide draft is implemented to subdue a universal threat is oddly timely for the conspiracy theorist in me, especially in light of the fact that there seems to be an interesting sea change on the horizon in regard to the political stance on public knowledge of extraterrestrial existence. Even with this otherworldly threat standing as antagonist, the film doesn’t hesitate to play on the beat that having the enemy emerge from within is a strong possibility. Despite the way that I’ve rambled about this particular spectrum of The Tomorrow War, Chris McKay and company balance these threads quite well, and all while ramping up the energy and momentum of the film from story beat to story beat.

With Infinite standing as Amazon Prime’s other attempt at rolling out a blockbuster (as previously mentioned), one can garner that a fascination with time-based narratives is becoming a common thread. The Tomorrow War borrows the best aspects of the Terminator franchise and Shane Carouth’s Primer approach to build its framework, which allows the logic needed for this particular suspension of belief to be sold due to concepts that seems easy to explain at face value, but above the head of standard comprehension upon reflection. For example, the acknowledgement of the generational gap that would exist between the young military force from 30 years in the future and the middle-aged draftees helps us dispel the worry for potential time paradoxes due to meeting yourself in the future, but it also sets up a slight John Connor mythos once you realize the Forestor father and daughter relationship will boomerang back and forth through time, at least from Dan’s point of view. Positioning time as fluid and always moving allows McKay and company to implement the fixed point theory of time travel, which instantly raises the stakes of the story due to the built-in ticking clock that comes from making sure you don’t miss your return window. With these two foundational points strongly set, a sort of narrative tuned mass damper is built which allows you to stack all types of realistic and imaginary science on top of what the audience has already accepted.

There seems to always be some sort of indistinguishable gap between the historic big budget releases in theaters and the small sample serving of streaming service attempts, but The Tomorrow War is a huge step in closing that gap when it comes to production value. Viewers will immediately notice the impressive use of effects for both the time travel and the Whitespikes, and when we are given moments to view the post-apocalyptic world, it is stylized enough to have an emotional impact. The combat is appealing to watch, much like the previously mentioned Starship Troopers, as a good mix of novice, survivalist and pure military approaches are mixed in among our characters, with as much adaptive learning being present as there are unfortunate casualties. There are a number of powerful allusions to Vietnam present in the film, such as the use of choppers and air strikes, the post-traumatic stress and shattered worldview of returning soldiers, deserters, and much more. The overall tone of despair and danger weighs heavily on the film, and using unconditional familial love as the driving force of hope rather than traditional romantic love is a nice change of pace.

Chris Pratt does what he does best, mixing his natural charm, humor and ability to symbolically and literally gather the troops in his role as the leading man of The Tomorrow War, while also being one of the most believable members of the combat force. Edwin Hodge matches Pratt’s intensity in terms of combat while providing an edge that stands in opposition to Pratt’s warmth, which makes them a formidable dynamic duo. Yvonne Strahovski manages to present a façade of military leadership to mask a clearly volatile presence of love that must be held in check in order to make sure her mission is successful, which echoes the adoration shown by Ryan Kiera Armstrong in her role as the younger Muri Forestor. Betty Gilpin remains hopeful (and even mentally sharp) in the face of a threat that would cause many similar characters to go to pieces and play their characters as fragile, one-note worried housewives. Sam Richardson provides a solid mixture of comic relief and scientific knowledge, which is welcome within the midst of a very heavy soldier presence that dominates the film, giving the average viewer someone they can latch on to. J.K. Simmons makes a couple of notable appearances (I wouldn’t mind seeing him work with Chris Pratt again in the future), while Jasmine Mathews, Keith Powers, an interestingly cast Mary Lynn Rajskub, Mike Mitchell and Seth Scenall round out the supporting cast.

The Tomorrow War reminds me of my time working at the movie theater back when I was in high school, specifically the summer that Independence Day was released. I’m not saying that McKay has found that Roland Emmerich magic, but he has managed to match the spectacle of Independence Day in a way that modern day audiences can relate to. If streaming services can match the quality of films like The Tomorrow War moving forward, I may have to stop mentioning the movies in a light that makes them sound lower tier.

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #ChrisMcKay #TheTomorrowWar #ChrisPratt #YvonneStrahovski #JKSimmons #BettyGilpin #SamRichardson #EdwinHodge #JasmineMathews #KeithPowers #MaryLynnRajskub #MikeMitchell #SethScenall

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allythurston2 · 3 years

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A Little About Me

Hello, my name is Allyson Thurston, but you can call me Ally. I attended high school at Newburgh Free Academy, graduating in 2013. I currently am majoring in Psychology; my end goal is to become a marriage and family counselor. I chose to pursue psychology due to my love of helping others. All my life I have found myself being the “therapist” or “mom figure” of my friend group, everyone seemed to gravitate towards me when they needed a listening ear. My goal is to pursue a career through the government, I would like to work on military bases as a counselor and give help to those who have dedicated their lives to keeping us safe, as well as their families. Aside from helping those who need it, pursuing this career would also enable me to travel and live-in different countries. Before covid-19 I used to travel as frequently as I could. I find myself going crazy being restricted to one place for a long period of time, I like to blame it on my adventurous soul. Until 2019 I was fortunate enough to live in Okinawa, Japan, a prime location for anyone wanting to explore the Asian Pacific region. Living in a different country gave me a completely new perspective on life. Seeing how another culture lived made me appreciate the diversity every culture has to offer. Once it is safe to travel again, I plan on returning to Okinawa, it has become a place that I feel most at home. Beside traveling, I enjoy cooking and writing. Cooking for others has become a huge therapeutic outlet for me during the pandemic. While my dinner parties have not extended beyond those who live in my home, it still brings me great joy seeing them eat my creations. I myself am not a picky eater, cooking has made me very open minded when it comes to try things that may seem odd to others. Writing has been a huge hobby of mine since I was in middle school. At the time I was a very shy kid, I rarely talked in school. More times than not, my fellow classmates thought that I was mute. I always found a little enjoyment in shocking everyone when I finally spoke up for the first time. Due to me being quite anti-social I found myself taking to reading and writing. I loved getting lost in a good book, the entire world around me seemed to just disappear. After a while I wanted to challenge myself, reading still brought me great joy but it was becoming a bit repetitive. I remember picking up a pen and an old notebook, completely unsure of what I was even going to write about, yet the second my pen touched paper I found the words flowing out of me. Until this day writing brings me a comfort I could not even begin to describe. I have never allowed anyone to read my work, it has become a nice private “secret” that is all my own. When I’m not partaking in one of my hobbies I enjoy watching television with my husband. Our most recent tv show that we are hooked on is an anime called “Demon Slayer”. Normally I am not really keen on anime, but this show has me absolutely hooked! A show I recently watched by myself was “Bridgerton” on Netflix. I personally would recommend that show to anyone who either enjoyed the series “Gossip Girl” or who enjoys balls and beautiful dresses. I hate to admit that I binge watched the entire season in three days. The most recent movie my husband and I have watched was “The Dirt”, this film is based off of the book “The Heroin Diaries: A year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star” by Nikki Sixx. For those of you who are not familiar with Nikki Sixx, he is the lead singer of the band Motley Crue, a metal band from the 1980’s. The most recent book I have finished was “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone”, I am a huge Potterhead, I currently am rereading the entire Harry Potter book series. Why I am choosing to put reread such a length series is truthfully beyond me, but I can already tell I am going to enjoy it like I did the first time around. I truthfully am not a huge fan of video games. The last video game I can recall playing was Pokemon: Leaf Green on my Gameboy advanced. As a kid, my brother and I would play Pokemon together all the time, but I found that as they continued to add new Pokemon, as well as change up the series I grew up loving, I became disinterested in pursuing the games further. Recently I have had a huge case of writer’s block, so as far as creating anything literary I have nothing to report. I have however, been very busy in the kitchen making different soups and stews to combat the cold weather we have been having. My most recent creation was a shoyu ramen from scratch. Unlike traditional shoyu ramen, I did not stick to a complete soy sauce-based brother. To give it a little pizzazz, I added some beef bones and an array of vegetables to make the broth even better. To top it off I added sliced sirloin steak, a marinated soft-boiled egg, green onion and garlic on top. While the noodles were store bought due to not owning a pasta machine, overall the ramen was a hit! While ramen is one of my top five favorite foods, if I had to choose one meal to eat for my last meal on earth it would be authentic Mexican tacos. I would eat tacos all day every day if I could! If you have made it this far, thank you for reading my first ever blog post. I look forward to reading each and every one of your posts and getting to know you all better throughout this semester.

I wanted to include some photographs from my time in Japan. I would love to one day live there again, Okinawa will forever be home to me. The first photo is of my husbands R32 GTR, the car scene was phenomenal over there. The second is of a crepe in the popular American Village/ Chatan area. The last photo is of me at a hidden beach some friends and I found when we were out exploring. The third and forth were during a trip to Osaka during Sakura (cherry blossom) season. We managed to also visit the Shitennoji Temple, which was by far one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

#com105 #firstassignment #aboutme #okinawa #japan #travel #cooking

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simplelittlebrowngirljae · 4 years

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What being a black student at a PWI taught me

I grew up in working class family. My father was in the military and my mother was a civil servant. Neither had went to college, but they did have job training. My sister was a first generation college student of our immediate household, although I had an aunt who had her PhD and her daughter had gone to college and had her Master’s and was officer in the Air Force, we didn’t speak much about college in my family until it was time for my sister to graduate. I went along on college tours, financial aid nights and many other things associated with getting ready for the college experience. It was very exciting to see what this was all about because this was not anything we had ever experienced. My mother became ultra-educated and an advocate for my sister and wanted to get the most for our dollar and the best experience possible for my sister’s college years. My sister ultimately landed on attending Norfolk State University, and urban Historically Black College and University or HBCU for short. She also received a prestigious scholarship. When the time came, we dropped her off the short 30 minute drive and wished her well. She came home virtually every weekend or we went over there to attend events and football games and I got to see what it was like to be in college too. And I learned what things I wanted in a school and started to think about if I even wanted to attend college.

College was a foreign concept because many of my peers came from these legacies of college graduates from specific schools and that is all the spoke about, even when I was in middle school. They pretty much already knew where they were going because their parents graduated from a specific school, and their grandparents graduated from there and their great grandparents graduated as well. I was not so lucky and had to do so much research about degree programs and campuses and what I actually wanted in a school because well, college just didn’t run in my family like that. While yes my sister went to college, and I had an aunt and a cousin who attended school, we just didn’t openly discuss life after high school except that you had 3 options: get a job, go to school or join the military. I knew I couldn’t join the military because I was flat footed and had asthma so it was get a job or go to school. If I wanted any type of future, I was told going to school was the path I should take. So I started exploring colleges and then I took the SAT’s and ACT’s and school brochures started flooding my mailbox. I started making a list of schools I wanted to see because of what they offered. I attended local alumni events of schools to chat with past students and get a feel if that school could be for me.

The summer before my senior year I took a road trip to visit several schools in South Carolina and North Carolina. I loved them but then my mom broke my heart and told me if I go too far away from home I wouldn’t be able to come home like I want. So I started to factor distance into my choices. As my senior year began, I started looking at schools close to home and there was one school in particular that was just AMAZING and I fell in love with. Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) was just different. It was in an urban setting and just yelled ‘’Hello Opportunities”. I went to the campus many times, worked hard and applied. I received acceptance letters from so many schools and waited anxiously for my decision from VCU. The day it came I was beyond elated I almost hit the roof! I was ready to start this next chapter of my life.

Now, I applied to a variety of schools, to include HBCUs and PWIs or Predominantly White Institutions. I didn’t even think about if a school was an HBCU or a PWI. I just applied based on how their programs ranked. I wanted a good education. And honestly when counselors were working with us, that did not even come up and my counselor was black and graduated from an HBCU. So why does it matter? I will tell you why. In this day in age, it is almost as if you are judged about your blackness by where you went to college or the things you did while in college. HBCUs do provide a very unique experience and are the pillar of the black community, I will say that. There is a magic and wonder that is unparalleled, especially at their sporting events and homecomings. I will say I did not have that where I attended college. And HBCUs were there when White schools would not allow us to attend. I respect them. However, it was not for me. I visited several and did not feel at home. When I walked on VCU’s campus I felt at home. And that is why I chose to attend. But because I chose to attend a PWI does not mean I do not support HBCUs. I 100% do. And because I did not attend an HBCU does not mean I am any less of a black person. I am still very black, please remember that. I have been made fun of and criticized for my choices, or told I am not really black because I went to a PWI and didn’t pledge as well ( meaning join a black sorority during my time there. That is not true either. Newsflash: you can attend a PWI and be black and not join a sorority or fraternity and maintain your blackness. My choice to attend was to grow myself and learn things and well, all of that happened. Let me share what I learned during my 4 years there:

1. I can hold a diverse conversation- While at VCU, I came across some unique individuals. And for that reason I have had to adapt and adjust my conversations and ways of talking to many situations. I am grateful to have been in an environment that allowed to experience such because it has made me more aware of the population I am engaging with and tune into sensitive to topics of conversation, in addition forcing me listen to understand and not just respond.

2. I am very cultured – VCU is one the most diverse schools in the world. We actually have a campus in Qatar! We have so many countries represented it is just overwhelming! I remember checking into my dorm and seeing people from India, Ethiopia, Pakistan, Laos, Israel, Nigeria, Puerto Rico among other countries and it just blew my mind. Where I am from, we had some diversity, but nothing as rich as this! With so many diverse cultures I learned about different traditions, their food and other great things. Around campus we had food from these different cultures as well. I remember tasting Indian food for the first time, and then Thai and then Venezuelan. It was like “whooooaaa… what have I been missing my whole life?!?!”

3. I know how to network- now, not saying I would not learn this at an HBCU but I had many an opportunity to attend so many events at the State Capital and with other officials which has made me learn to network and engage with others. These opportunities have been unparalleled and I am beyond grateful to have attended this institution and to have had mentors who worked hard to present these opportunities to us students.

4. I have refined my public speaking skills- this is self-explanatory. I had to give umpteenth presentations and take God knows how many classes on public speaking, but I am thankful for the rigorous curriculum that was provided to me that made me refine these skills. With my public speaking skills also came great research skills so I am grateful for that as well.

5. I learned about topics I would have never imagined to include veganism, Islam, Celiac’s disease, and various holidays- this is pretty self-explanatory. Being around so much diversity and around many unique persons allowed me to learn about many different things. So many things I had not been exposed to and I was beyond thankful to have been in an environment to learn, experience and understand.

6. I met my best friend who is from a totally different county and culture than myself- my best friend is form Sudan and is Muslim. She has taught me so much it’s unreal. Like I learned about different foods, about Africa, about Islam, the Quran, and not just learned about these things but have developed a strong respect from African culture and Islamic culture. She is one of the best things to happen to me and I swear I learn so many things from her every day…yes you read that correctly, I learn something new daily from her.

7. I was presented with many opportunities to travel and participate in conferences and events- many of my professors belonged to many organizations and would speak at many conferences, they would have spaces available to take us to conferences with them and we would get credit for it! So I was able to travel to several conferences and meet amazing people and learn about various career paths and how to integrate what we were learning into the real world. All of that was invaluable.

8. I learned it is okay to ask for help – this was a big one. I found myself in many a situation where things were not going as planned and I was epically failing. And my pride would not let me ask for help. But then things got so bad to where I had no choice. The crazy thing is, I should have asked for help sooner because I would have been better off. Like, those who were providing the help were more than kind and more than gracious and wanted to help. So the moral of the situation, don’t let your pride stand in the way of you getting what you need.

9. I learned that therapy is great and not a bad thing- in Black culture, therapy is shunned. And we often suffer in silence. I was very stressed out one semester and it came out as anger. So I went to the Student Counseling Center and go help. It was the best thing I ever did. At VCU, they publicize and encourage students to use counseling services. It is a beautiful thing. Never feel ashamed of needing therapy. It is there to help you, not harm you.

10. I learned a lot about poverty and its effect on communities and America- VCU is an urban campus. The downfall of that is that there is a large homeless population that roams around the campus. Many of these persons have mental illness, and in a few of my courses we learned about whey people are homeless and how the resources for those with mental illness are almost nonexistent once they are discharged from inpatient care. We also learned how community mental health is a joke as well and many families often disown their family members who have mental illness because it becomes too much. We also learned that there are some homeless people who are actually not homeless and who have a lot of money and who just sit on the corner asking for money for fun. It was quite interesting to learn about such. On the flip side of all that we learned about the ‘working poor’ which are folks who may be working and barely providing for themselves but they live in substandard housing but cannot afford much else. We learned about the implications of such on public health and it taught me so much and guided my whole career essentially. Because of where VCU is located we actually got hands on service learning in such topics and it made our education worthwhile.

11. I learned about drugs, alcohol, their distribution and economic impact in society – so many men would hang out on campus during the day trying to pick up women. And the sad part is, many were drug dealers and these young innocent girls did not know. After a while one would pick up on such, however we wouldn’t engage them to the point of a relationship. I would say I would engage theme enough to learn about drugs, and how they system worked and that was enough. Ladies, just know everything that glitters isn’t gold and you should respect yourself enough to walk away from situations. Know better, do better.

12. I learned that self-care is imperative – we all take on so many things and it can get overwhelming. I learned in my 4 years it is essential to take breaks and set boundaries in order to protect your peace. People may get mad but you cannot pour from an empty bucket.

13. I learned it is okay to not have it all figured out- college is supposed to be the best time of your life. However, as you get closer to graduation things get a bit scary. And there are some people who expect you to have it figured out. Well guess what, it is okay to not have it figured out. VCU had a great internship program and Career Services department. And it was mandatory for me to have a 700 hours of an internship to graduate and go to the Career Center 3 times before I graduated. I learned that it was okay not to have a concrete plan during these times. I learned that sometimes the plan you had will change direction because of circumstances. And that made me feel great.

14. I learned to hold my own- because there were so many races and cultures, I had to hold my own. I had to ensure my voice was heard among the other while still portraying a positive image. I broke stereotypes and learned to outshine others. I learned to be loud without saying a word. Sometimes I was the only black female in a class but I learned to be comfortable with that and how to contribute in my own way. I learned from my professors who looked like me and who didnt look like me and it made me a stronger woman...it molded me to be the woman I am today.

15. I became comfortable in my own skin- this is the biggest lesson I learned. I have always been judged for how I look and how I talk. I have been called white girl, told I talk white criticized for how I dress among many other things. But being in this unique setting at VCU taught me it was okay to be me. There was nothing wrong with how I dressed or spoke or the music I listened to or any of that. I am fearfully and wonderfully made and all of these things make me who I am. I am no blacker because of my likes and dislikes or how I talk or because of my hobbies. And that alone is worth gold.

Now, am I saying that I could have only learned these lessons at a PWI? No. But I know that my experiences at my school made me who I am and even made me more comfortable in being a black female in today’s world. I feel more prepared to handle certain situations because of my situations which caused me to learn certain things. My experience was amazing. Now, if giving advice to a young black student trying to choose I would tell them this: explore your options, do your research, pick the school that feels most comfortable to you. It can be an HBCU or a PWI. But don’t ever think that going to a PWI makes you less black. You are black regardless of your choice.

#awareness #hbcu #pwi #educated #melaninated #blackgirlmagic #melaninmagic

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gtunesmiff · 4 years

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Ravi Zacharias (1946 – 2020)

When Ravi Zacharias was a cricket-loving boy on the streets of India, his mother called him in to meet the local sari-seller-turned-palm reader. “Looking at your future, Ravi Baba, you will not travel far or very much in your life,” he declared. “That’s what the lines on your hand tell me. There is no future for you abroad.” By the time a 37-year-old Zacharias preached, at the invitation of Billy Graham, to the inaugural International Conference for Itinerant Evangelists in Amsterdam in 1983, he was on his way to becoming one of the foremost defenders of Christianity’s intellectual credibility. A year later, he founded Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM), with the mission of “helping the thinker believe and the believer think.” In the time between the sari seller’s prediction and the founding of RZIM, Zacharias had immigrated to Canada, taken the gospel across North America, prayed with military prisoners in Vietnam and ministered to students in a Cambodia on the brink of collapse. He had also undertaken a global preaching trip as a newly licensed minister with The Christian and Missionary Alliance, along with his wife, Margie, and eldest daughter, Sarah. This trip started in England, worked eastwards through Europe and the Middle East and finished on the Pacific Rim; all-in-all that year, Zacharias preached nearly 600 times in over a dozen countries. It was the culmination of a remarkable transformation set in motion when Zacharias, recovering in a Delhi hospital from a suicide attempt at age 17, was read the words of Jesus recorded in the Bible by the apostle John: “Because I live, you will also live.” In response, Zacharias surrendered his life to Christ and offered up a prayer that if he emerged from the hospital, he would leave no stone unturned in his pursuit of truth. Once Zacharias found the truth of the gospel, his passion for sharing it burned bright until the very end. Even as he returned home from the hospital in Texas, where he had been undergoing chemotherapy, Zacharias was sharing the hope of Jesus to the three nurses who tucked him into his transport. Frederick Antony Ravi Kumar Zacharias was born in Madras, now Chennai, in 1946, in the shadow of the resting place of the apostle Thomas, known to the world as the “Doubter” but to Zacharias as the “Great Questioner.” Zacharias’s affinity with Thomas meant he was always more interested in the questioner than the question itself. His mother, Isabella, was a teacher. His father, Oscar, who was studying labor relations at the University of Nottingham in England when Zacharias was born, rose through the ranks of the Indian civil service throughout Zacharias’s adolescence. An unremarkable student, Zacharias was more interested in cricket than books, until his encounter with the gospel in that hospital bed. Nevertheless, a bold, radical faith ran in his genes. In the Indian state of Kerala, his paternal great-grandfather and grandfather produced the 20th century’s first Malayalam-English dictionary. This dictionary served as the cornerstone of the first Malayalam translation of the Bible. Further back, Zacharias’s great-great-great-grandmother shocked her Nambudiri family, the highest caste of the Hindu priesthood, by converting to Christianity. With conversion came a new surname, Zacharias, and a new path that started her descendants on a road to the Christian faith. Zacharias saw the Lord’s hand at work in his family’s tapestry and he infused RZIM with the same transgenerational and transcultural heart for the gospel. He created a ministry that transcended his personality, where every speaker, whatever their background, presented the truth in the context of the contemporary. Zacharias believed if you achieved that, your message would always be necessary. Thirty-six years since its establishment, the ministry still bears the name chosen for Zacharias’s ancestor. However, where once there was a single speaker, now there are nearly 100 gifted speakers who on any given night can be found sharing the gospel at events across the globe; where once it was run from Zacharias’s home, now the ministry has a presence in 17 countries on five continents. Zacharias’s passion and urgency to take the gospel to all nations was forged in Vietnam, throughout the summer of ’71. Zacharias had immigrated to Canada in 1966, a year after winning a preaching award at a Youth for Christ congress in Hyderabad. It was there, in Toronto, that Ruth Jeffrey, the veteran missionary to Vietnam, heard him preach. She invited him to her adopted land. That summer, Zacharias—only just 25—found himself flown across the country by helicopter gunship to preach at military bases, in hospitals and in prisons to the Vietcong. Most nights Zacharias and his translator Hien Pham would fall asleep to the sound of gunfire. On one trip across remote land, Zacharias and his travel companions’ car broke down. The lone jeep that passed ignored their roadside waves. They finally cranked the engine to life and set off, only to come across the same jeep a few miles on, overturned and riddled with bullets, all four passengers dead. He later said of this moment, “God will stop our steps when it is not our time, and He will lead us when it is.” Days later, Zacharias and his translator stood at the graves of six missionaries, killed unarmed when the Vietcong stormed their compound. Zacharias knew some of their children. It was that level of trust in God, and the desire to stand beside those who minister in areas of great risk, that is a hallmark of RZIM. Its support for Christian evangelists in places where many ministries fear to tread, including northern Nigeria, Pakistan, South African townships, the Middle East and North Africa, can be traced back to that formative graveside moment. After this formative trip, Zacharias and his new bride, Margie, moved to Deerfield, Illinois, to study for a Master of Divinity at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. Here the young couple lived two doors down from Zacharias’s classmate and friend William Lane Craig. After graduating, Zacharias taught at the Alliance Theological Seminary in New York and continued to travel the country preaching on weekends. Full-time teaching combined with his extensive travel and itinerant preaching led Zacharias to describe these three years as the toughest in his 48-year marriage to Margie. He felt his job at the seminary was changing him and his preaching far more than he was changing lives with the hope of the gospel. It was at that point that Graham invited Zacharias to speak at his inaugural International Conference for Itinerant Evangelists in Amsterdam in 1983. Zacharias didn’t realize Graham even knew who he was, let alone knew about his preaching. In front of 3,800 evangelists from 133 countries, Zacharias opened with the line, “My message is a very difficult one….” He went on to tell them that religions, 20th-century cultures and philosophies had formed “vast chasms between the message of Christ and the mind of man.” Even more difficult was his message, which received a mid-talk ovation, about his fear that, “in certain strands of evangelicalism, we sometimes think it is necessary to so humiliate someone of a different worldview that we think unless we destroy everything he holds valuable, we cannot preach to him the gospel of Christ…what I am saying is this, when you are trying to reach someone, please be sensitive to what he holds valuable.” That talk changed Zacharias’s future and arguably the future of apologetics, dealing with the hard questions of origin, meaning, morality and destiny that every worldview must answer. Flying back to the U.S., Zacharias shared his thoughts with Margie. As one colleague has expressed, “He saw the objections and questions of others not as something to be rebuffed, but as a cry of the heart that had to be answered. People weren’t logical problems waiting to be solved; they were people who needed the person of Christ.” No one was reaching out to the thinker, to the questioner. It was on that flight that Zacharias and Margie planted the seed of a ministry intended to meet the thinker where they were, to train cultural evangelist-apologists to reach those opinion makers of society. The seed was watered and nurtured through its early years by the businessman DD Davis, a man who became a father figure to Zacharias. With the establishment of the ministry, the Zacharias family moved south to Atlanta. By now, the family had grown with the addition of a second daughter, Naomi, and a son, Nathan. Atlanta was the city Zacharias would call home for the last 36 years of his life. Meeting the thinker face-to-face was an intrinsic part of Zacharias’s ministry, with post-event Q&A sessions often lasting long into the night. Not to be quelled in the sharing of the gospel, Zacharias also took to the airwaves in the 1980s. Many people, not just in the U.S. but across the world, came to hear the message of Christ for the first time through Zacharias’s radio program, Let My People Think. In weekly half-hour slots, Zacharias explored issues such as the credibility of the Christian message and the Bible, the weakness of modern intellectual movements, and the uniqueness of Jesus Christ. Today, Let My People Think is syndicated to over 2,000 stations in 32 countries and has also been downloaded 15.6 million times as a podcast over the last year. As the ministry grew so did the demands on Zacharias. In 1990, he followed in his father’s footsteps to England. He took a sabbatical at Ridley Hall in Cambridge. It was a time surrounded by family, and where he wrote the first of his 28 books, A Shattered Visage: The Real Face of Atheism. It was no coincidence that throughout the rhythm of his itinerant life, it was among his family and Margie, in particular, that his writing was at its most productive. Margie inspired each of Zacharias’s books. With her eagle eye and keen mind, she read the first draft of every manuscript, from The Logic of God, which was this year awarded the Evangelical Christian Publishers Association (ECPA) Christian Book Award in the category of Bible study, and his latest work, Seeing Jesus from the East, co-authored with colleague Abdu Murray. Others among that list include the ECPA Gold Medallion Book Award winner, Can Man Live Without God?, and Christian bestsellers, Jesus Among Other Gods and The Grand Weaver. Zacharias’s books have sold millions of copies worldwide and have been translated into over a dozen languages. Zacharias’s desire to train evangelists undergirded with apologetics, in order to engage with culture shapers, had been happening informally over the years but finally became formal in 2004. It was a momentous year for Zacharias and the ministry with the establishment of OCCA, the Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics; the launch of Wellspring International; and Zacharias’s appearance at the United Nations Annual International Prayer Breakfast. OCCA was founded with the help of Professor Alister McGrath, the RZIM team and the staff at Wycliffe Hall, a Permanent Private Hall of Oxford University, where Zacharias was an honorary Senior Research Fellow between 2007 and 2015. Over his lifetime Zacharias would receive 10 honorary doctorates in recognition of his public commitment to Christian thought, including one from the National University of San Marcos, the oldest established university in the Americas. Over the years, OCCA has trained over 400 students from 50 countries who have gone on to carry the gospel in many arenas across the world. Some have continued to follow an explicit calling as evangelists and apologists in Christian settings, and many others have gone on to take up roles in each of the spheres of influence Zacharias always dreamed of reaching: the arts, academia, business, media and politics. In 2017, another apologetics training facility, the Zacharias Institute, was established at the ministry’s headquarters in Atlanta, to continue the work of equipping all who desire to effectively share the gospel and answer the common objections to Christianity with gentleness and respect. In 2014, the same heart lay behind the creation of the RZIM Academy, an online apologetics training curriculum. Across 140 countries, the Academy’s courses have been accessed by thousands in multiple languages. In the same year OCCA was founded, Zacharias launched Wellspring International, the humanitarian division of the ministry. Wellspring International was shaped by the memory of his mother’s heart to work with the destitute and is led by his daughter Naomi. Founded on the principle that love is the most powerful apologetic, it exists to come alongside local partners that meet critical needs of vulnerable women and children around the world. Zacharias’s appearance at the U.N. in 2004 was the second of four that he made in the 21st century and represented his increasing impact in the arena of global leadership. He had first made his mark as the Cold War was coming to an end. His internationalist outlook and ease among his fellow man, whether Soviet military leader or precocious Ivy League undergraduate, opened doors that had been closed for many years. One such military leader was General Yuri Kirshin, who in 1992 paved the way for Zacharias to speak at the Lenin Military Academy in Moscow. Zacharias saw the cost of enforced atheism in the Soviet Union; the abandonment of religion had created the illusion of power and the reality of self-destruction. A year later, Zacharias traveled to Colombia, where he spoke to members of the judiciary on the necessity of a moral framework to make sense of the incoherent worldview that had taken hold in the South American nation. Zacharias’s standing on the world stage spanned the continents and the decades. In January 2020, as part of his final foreign trip, he was invited by eight division world champion boxer and Philippines Senator Manny Pacquiao to speak at the National Bible Day Prayer Breakfast in Manila. It was an invitation that followed Zacharias’s November 2019 appearance at The National Theatre in Abu Dhabi as part of the United Arab Emirates’ Year of Tolerance. In 1992, Zacharias’s apologetics ministry expanded from the political arena to academia with the launching of the first ever Veritas Forum, hosted on the campus of Harvard University. Zacharias was asked to be the keynote speaker at the inaugural event. The lectures Zacharias delivered that weekend would form the basis of the best-selling book, Can Man Live Without God?, and would open up opportunities to speak at university campuses across the world. The invitations that followed exposed Zacharias to the intense longing of young people for meaning and identity. Twenty-eight years after that first Veritas Forum event, in what would prove to be his last speaking engagement, Zacharias spoke to a crowd of over 7,000 at the University of Miami’s Watsco Center on the subject of “Does God Exist?” It is a question also asked behind the walls of Louisiana State Penitentiary, also known as Angola Prison, the largest maximum-security prison in the United States. Zacharias had prayed with prisoners of war all those years ago in Vietnam but walking through Death Row left an even deeper impression. Zacharias believed the gospel shined with grace and power, especially in the darkest places, and praying with those on Death Row “makes it impossible to block the tears.” It was his third visit to Angola and, such is his deep connection, the inmates have made Zacharias the coffin in which he will be buried. As he writes in Seeing Jesus from the East, “These prisoners know that this world is not their home and that no coffin could ever be their final destination. Jesus assured us of that.” In November last year, a few months after his last visit to Angola, Zacharias stepped down as President of RZIM to focus on his worldwide speaking commitments and writing projects. He passed the leadership to his daughter Sarah Davis as Global CEO and long-time colleague Michael Ramsden as President. Davis had served as the ministry’s Global Executive Director since 2011, while Ramsden had established the European wing of the ministry in Oxford in 1997. It was there in 2018, Zacharias told the story of standing with his successor in front of Lazarus’s grave in Cyprus. The stone simply reads, “Lazarus, four days dead, friend of Christ.” Zacharias turned to Ramsden and said if he was remembered as “a friend of Christ, that would be all I want.” =====|||=====

Ravi Zacharias, who died of cancer on May 19, 2020, at age 74, is survived by Margie, his wife of 48-years; his three children: Sarah, the Global CEO of RZIM, Naomi, Director of Wellspring International, and Nathan, RZIM’s Creative Director for Media; and five grandchildren. =====|||=====

By Matthew Fearon, RZIM UK content manager and former journalist with The Sunday Times of London

Margie and the Zacharias family have asked that in lieu of flowers gifts be made to the ongoing work of RZIM. Ravi’s heart was people.

His passion and life’s work centered on helping people understand the beauty of the gospel message of salvation.

Our prayer is that, at his passing, more people will come to know the saving grace found in Jesus through Ravi’s legacy and the global team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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winchesterbrotherstan · 4 years

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Kong: Skull Island- Family

Pairing: A little itty bit of flirty Reg Slivko x Irene Brown

James Conrad x Irene Brown (brother-sister relationship)

Jack Chapman x Irene Brown (brother-sister relationship)

Also Stephen Brown was physically based off of Nick Robinson

Summary: Conrad interrogates Chapman and Irene flips through old family photos and memories come back to haunt her

Warnings: mentions of basically abuse, probably cursing, crying, etc

Word Count: 1696

James had come around right as I got off Reg’s lap and he stood. Reg cleared his throat and I avoided my brother’s glance. He settled next to Jack, who was writing something. My stomach turned quickly at the thought of them talking. I had been bumped around so often as a kid that I really liked to keep all the parts of my life separate. Mason and Reg both picked up on my discomfort, sending me concerned glances.

“I have to go.” I mumbled softly, brushing past Mason toward my brothers.

James raised an eyebrow at me, “So that’s Slivko, huh?”

Jack perked up at the mention of one of his men. He looked back to see Reg rejoining the original group, Mason following with her camera. I only nodded and sat next to Jack, positioning myself between the two.

“Slivko is a good kid.” Jack said, the smallest hint of defense in his tone.

“It’s just harmless fun, Jay.” I placed my hand on James’s shoulder.

“Right.” His voice was serious as he turned in our direction, “So, Jack. Tell me about yourself.” His accent thickened, and I got the feeling it was some sort of intimidation trick.

Jack shrugged, setting aside his notepad and pencil. I could read as far as the Dear Billy in his scratchy handwriting.

“What do you wanna know?” He asked, making no move back to intimidate James.

“Where are you from?”

“Tennessee.” Jack’s southern accent rang true, and the contrast between their voices would’ve made me smile had I not been tense.

“Family?” James shot right as Jack finished speaking.

“My wife’s name is Grace and I’ve got a little boy named Billy.” A smile grew on Jack’s face and his voice was softer. He missed them, it was obvious by the way his eyes glazed over.

“How old is Billy?” It was like an interrogation from James’s side.

“He’s turning six in a few days. He’s got the same birthday as Irene.” Jack bumped my arm with his fist and I smiled at the both of them.

James didn’t crack. I began to fiddle with my own hands, nails scraping along my bones in an effort to keep calm.

“So how long have you been in the military, Jack?” James asked.

“A few years now.”

I tried to catch Mason’s attention, but she was too caught up in taking pictures to notice. I made eye contact with San and Houston instead. They would be more help than no help. I motioned them over subtly, eyes wide. San realized faster than Houston did that I needed help, and she pulled him over.

James was in the middle of shooting off another question, something about why the hell Jack would agree to dragging his men out here for a last minute mission to an unknown island. San elbowed Houston, who stuttered his question out.

“Major Chapman? I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but I had a quick question about the helicopters we’ll be flying in tomorrow.”

“Excuse me.” Jack smiled politely at James and patted my head before leading Houston away to answer whatever questions he could.

“Uh, I had a few questions of my own as well.” San directed herself to James, who was now looking at her with raised eyebrows, motioning for her to ask away.

“You’re a tracker, but Randa told us you have military background.” She spoke hesitantly.

“Yes.” His reply was curt.

“What was your official title? What did you do? Has any of that contributed to your skills as a tracker?” She rapid fired before catching herself, looking down at her hands shyly.

“You conducting an interview or something?” He laughed, his harsh demeanor breaking as he patted the spot between me and him.

She laughed, “No, sorry. I’m just very curious. I don’t know much about how the armed forces of other countries operate.”

“Well come sit and I can answer whatever questions you have. The official title was Commander James Conrad, but the friends I had liked to tease me by calling me the Commander of the Air.” He kept talking, San listening intently.

I gave her arm a nudge, a thank you, without distracting her or James. I slunk off to our room, dropping myself on the bed. I hoped Houston and San could keep them apart long enough that James would have decided to drop whatever he was trying to do. Jack posed no threat to him, so why would he go after him like that?

I moved off the bed and grabbed my journal from my bag. I opened it and shook it out, letting photos fall out from between the pages. I had taken pictures with everyone I had ever allowed myself to call family. The only reason I kept them was because my father ripped me away from any place I grew comfortable enough to call home.

There were six pictures total, including Jack and James. The first was from when we lived in the Amazon. I had a brother then, a biological one. We were twins; he was only an hour or two younger than me. He apparently looked just like our mother, but I couldn’t remember. She died when we were three, and it broke my brother. He had turned to my father since then, but the man was the definition of psychotic, and he burrowed his way into Stephen’s head by the time we were twelve. Things were never the same, and when we hit age thirteen, our father decided Stephen needed to go to boarding school. Our father died months later, and then our step mother. From there on out, I was left with James. We never found my twin, so I forced his memory to the back of my mind and James had seemed to purge it from his own.

Stephen and I were four in the picture, which had been taken the same day we got the tribal tattoos. My smile was wide and I was excited, brown eyes large and gleaming. Stephen was curled up next to me, crying hard enough for his face to be tinted pink. The picture didn’t do either of us justice.

The next picture was from the first time I could remember being in the United States. From age five to age six, we lived in Philadelphia, with a woman named Janice and her two kids, Alice and Michael. They were much older, and we never felt right with them. They weren’t in the picture. It was me and Stephen, both smiling this time, eyes larger than life at the birthday presents our father had given us. Mine was a crossbow, hand carved. It was the one I took any time James and I traveled. Stephen’s was a katana, longer than he was tall.

The third picture was when we were seven, when we lived in Virginia with Louise and her son Casper. He was a year younger than us, and the three of us fit together like a puzzle. Once we grew close enough to call him our brother, our father picked us up and moved us to Tennessee.

That was the fourth picture, from age eight to age ten, in Tennessee. Our father really liked Elise Chapman, so we stayed for two years. Jack loved us the minute he saw us, and we warmed up to him fairly easy. I liked having an older brother instead of a younger one, and Stephen liked having another brother regardless. The three of us lived attached at the hip.

Once we hit age ten, our father started trying to “train” us in his ways. What he was really doing was giving us our weapons, setting us loose in the forest, and trying to hunt us down. Stephen, so parent starved and desperate to please, went with it. I didn’t think it was okay, so I told Jack about it. My father gave me the option to stay with the Chapmans or to come with him and Stephen to France. At the end of the day, I had picked my younger brother.

The fifth picture was from the mother and daughter we had only lived with for a year. Her name was Marie, and she was five years older than us. I liked her. She was calm and quiet, with long dark hair and big dark eyes. She was smiling wide in the picture, and Stephen was fixed next to my father, staring up at him in adoration. My eyes didn’t shine. I had ripped my father’s head from the picture long ago.

Our training continued, and I never spoke a word again. When we turned twelve, we moved to England, and our father finally got married. I bonded with James quicker than I had with Jack, maybe because I had felt like I had lost Stephen. Either way, you know what happened from there. The sixth picture was just James and I, after Stephen had been shipped off to another part of Europe. I looked happy in this one, and I actually was.

There was a knock on the door. I gathered the photographs into a stack and put them in the journal. The door cracked open.

“Are you awake?” It was James.

“Yeah.” I answered with a scratchy voice.

He came in and shut the door behind him, leaving the lights off. He sat in front of me, pushing the journal over to my side.

“Looking at old photos?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

I only nodded, chewing at the inside of my cheek. He knew how I felt about Stephen, and he knew how guilty I felt about not staying with Jack.

Neither of us spoke. I picked at my nails and he rested a hand on my knee.

“Do you want to come eat lunch?”

I sighed and nodded, taking the journal and shoving it back into our bag before taking his outstretched hand and following him to the cafeteria.

The rest of the day went spent in silence between the two of us as we sat high up on the ship and watched the neverending ocean and the drowning sunset.

Previous: Photographs and Flirts

Next: Handholding and Flushed Cheeks

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berniesrevolution · 5 years

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In the early summer of 2017, a little less than a year after his Presidential campaign had ended, Bernie Sanders spent a few days on a speaking tour in England, to promote the European version of his book “Our Revolution.” The Brexit resolution had passed twelve months earlier, a general election looked likely to consolidate the conservative hold on the country, and Sanders’s audiences—in the hundreds, though not the thousands—were anxious and alert. I was at those events, talking with the people who had come—skinny, older leftists and louche, cynical younger ones—and they were anticipating not just the old campaign hits but a broader explanation of why the world had suddenly gone so crazy and what could be done. Sanders had scarcely talked about foreign affairs in his 2016 campaign, but his framework had a natural extensibility. Under way in the world was a simple fight, Sanders said. On one side were oligarchs and the right-wing parties they had managed to corrupt. On the other were the people.

In the thirty months since Sanders’s 2016 campaign ended, in the petulance and ideological strife of the Democratic National Convention, he has become a more reliable partisan, just as progressivism has moved his way. He begins the 2020 Presidential campaign not as a gadfly but as a favorite, which requires a comprehensive vision among voters of how he would lead the free world. In 2017, Sanders hired his first Senate foreign-policy adviser, a progressive think-tank veteran named Matt Duss. Sanders gave major speeches—at Westminster College, in the United Kingdom, and at Johns Hopkins—warning that “what we are seeing is the rise of a new authoritarian axis” and urging liberals not just to defend the post-Cold War status quo but also to “reconceptualize a global order based on human solidarity.” In 2016, he had asked voters to imagine how the principles of democratic socialism could transform the Democratic Party. Now he was suggesting that they could also transform how America aligns itself in the world.

In early April, I met with Sanders at his Senate offices, in Washington. Spring was already in effect—the cherry blossoms along the tidal basin were still in bloom but had begun to crinkle and fade—and talk among the young staffers milling around his offices was of the intensity of Sanders’s early campaign, of who would be travelling how many days over the next month and who would have to miss Easter. It was my first encounter with Sanders during this campaign. Basic impression: same guy. He shook my hand with a grimace, and interrupted my first question when he recognized the possibility for a riff, on the significance of a Senate vote on Yemen. His essential view of foreign policy seemed to be that the American people did not really understand how dark and cynical it has been—“how many governments we have overthrown,” as Sanders told me. “How many people in the United States understand that we overthrew a democratically elected government in Iran to put in the Shah? Which then led to the Revolution. How many people in this country do you think know that? So we’re going to have to do a little bit of educating on that.”

One condition that Americans had not digested was the bottomlessness of inequality. “I got the latest numbers here,” Sanders said. He motioned, and Duss, who was sitting beside him, slid a sheet of paper across the table. “Twenty-six (Continue Reading)of the wealthiest people on earth own more wealth than the bottom half of the world’s population. Did you know that? So you look at it, you say”—here he motioned as if each of his hands were one side of a scale—“twenty-six people, 3.6 billion people. How grotesque is that?”

He went on, “When I talk about income inequality and talk about right-wing authoritarianism, you can’t separate the two.” No one knew how rich Putin was, Sanders said, but some people said he was the wealthiest man in the world. The repressive Saudi monarchs were also billionaire Silicon Valley investors, and “their brothers in the Emirates” have “enormous influence not only in that region but in the world, with their control over oil. A billionaire President here in the United States. You’re talking about the power of Wall Street and multinational corporations.” Simple, really: his thesis had always been that money corrupted politics, and now he was tracing the money back overseas. His phlegmy baritone acquired a sarcastic lilt. “It’s a global economy, Ben, in case you didn’t know that!”

When Sanders’s aides sent me a list of a half-dozen foreign-policy experts, assembled by Duss, who talk regularly with the senator about foreign policy, I was surprised by how mainstream they seemed. Joe Cirincione, the antinuclear advocate, might have featured in a Sanders Presidential campaign ten or twenty years ago. But Sanders is also being advised by Robert Malley, who coördinated Middle East policy in Obama’s National Security Council and is now the president of the International Crisis Group; Suzanne DiMaggio, a specialist in negotiations with adversaries at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace; and Vali Nasr, the dean of the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced Studies at Johns Hopkins and a specialist in the Shia-Sunni divide.

Few of these advisers were part of Sanders’s notionally isolationist 2016 campaign. But, as emergencies in Libya, Syria, and Yemen have deepened, the reputation of Obama’s foreign policy, and of the foreign-policy establishment more broadly, has diminished. Malley told me, “Out of frustration with some aspects of Obama’s foreign policy and anger with most aspects of Trump’s, many leaders in the Party have concluded that the challenge was not to build bridges between centrist Democrats and centrist Republicans but, rather, between centrist and progressive Democrats. That means breaking away from the so-called Blob”—a term for the foreign-policy establishment, from the Obama adviser Ben Rhodes. DiMaggio said, “The case for restraint seems to be gaining ground, particularly in its rejection of preventive wars and efforts to change the regimes of countries that do not directly threaten the United States.” She and others now see in Sanders something that they didn’t in 2016: a clear progressive theory of what the U.S. is after in the world. “I think he’s bringing those views on the importance of tackling economic inequality into foreign policy,” DiMaggio said.

Since the 2016 campaign, Sanders’s major foreign-policy initiative has been a Senate resolution invoking the War Powers Act of 1973 in order to suspend the Trump Administration’s support of Saudi Arabia’s military campaign in Yemen. Mike Lee, a libertarian Republican from Utah, and Chris Murphy, a Democrat from Connecticut, co-sponsored the resolution; on April 4th, it passed in the House and the Senate. It was the first time that Congress invoked the War Powers Act since the law’s creation, in the aftermath of the Vietnam War. When we met, Sanders said that he thought the Republican support for the resolution was significant, in part because it reflected the strain of conservatism that is skeptical of military interventions. It also demonstrated, he believed, “a significant mind-set change in the Congress—Democrats and Republicans—with regard to Saudi Arabia.” He added, “I don’t see why we’d be following the lead or seen as a very, very close ally of a despotic, un-democratic regime.”

Sanders was warming to a broader theme. Our position in the regional conflict between Saudi Arabia and Iran should be rebalanced, he said. There has been, he went on, “a bipartisan assumption that we’re supposed to love Saudi Arabia and hate Iran. And yet, if you look at young people in Iran, they are probably a lot more pro-American than Saudis. Iran is a very flawed society, no debate about it. Involved in terrorism, doing a lot of bad things. But they also have more democracy, as a matter of fact, more women’s rights, than does Saudi Arabia.” As President, Sanders said, he imagined the U.S. taking a more neutral role in the countries’ rivalry. “To say, you know what? We’re not going to be spending trillions of dollars and losing American lives because of your long-standing hostilities.”

Sanders turned to the conflict between Israel and Palestine, which he described in similar terms; he wanted to orient American policy toward the decent people on both sides, and not to their two awful governments. “While I am very critical of Netanyahu’s right-wing government, I am not impressed by what I am seeing from Palestinian leadership, as well,” he said. “It’s corrupt in many cases, and certainly not effective.” He mentioned the United States’s leverage in Israeli politics, because of its alliance and economic support. (“$3.8 billion is a lot of money!”) I asked if he would make that aid contingent, as some Palestinian advocates have suggested, on fuller political rights for Palestinians. Sanders grew more cautious here. “I’m not going to get into the specifics,” he said. He was worried about the situation in Gaza, where youth unemployment is greater than sixty per cent, and yet the borders are closed. (“If you have sixty per cent of the kids who don’t have jobs, and they can’t leave the country, what do you think is going to happen next year and the year after that?”) But he also said that he wanted to “pick up from where Jimmy Carter was, what Clinton tried to do, and, with the financial resources that we have of helping or withdrawing support, say, ‘You know what? Let’s sit down and do our best to figure it out.’ ” He seemed to want to strike an earnest, non-revolutionary note. “I’m not proposing anything particularly radical,” he said. “And that is that the United States should have an even-handed approach both to Israel and the Palestinians.”

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #bernie sanders #foreign policy #New Yorker #2020 election

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amyadamsnews · 6 years

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Amy Adams on equal pay, family life and her grittiest role to date

In a corner of the genteel lounge of Los Angeles’s iconic Chateau Marmont, Amy Adams is launching into the opening lines of the Abba classic The Winner Takes It All – and it’s pitch-perfect. With other Hollywood actors, this tuneful showcase of talent, five minutes into an interview, might come across as showing off.

But the star of American Hustle, Nocturnal Animals and Arrival – a five-time Academy Award nominee and the recipient of two Golden Globes – seems atypically unstarry. Our conversation has simply prompted a demo of one of her great passions: karaoke.

Fresh-faced and freckled, today, the 43-year-old is dressed casually in jeans and a peach blouse, her red hair pulled into a loose ponytail. In spite of her success on the big screen, you might not recognise her if she strolled past you on the street.

She’s one of the most in-demand actors in Hollywood, skilled at switching between roles – from wide-eyed and vulnerable in Junebug, which launched her leading-lady career, through tough-talking and trashy in The Fighter, to religious fanatic in The Master and – most memorably – sexy, seductive con artist in American Hustle.

Amy’s latest part looks set to make her more immediately familiar, however. Next month, she stars in HBO’s hotly anticipated new mini-series Sharp Objects, an adaptation of the novel by Gillian Flynn, author of the bestselling thriller Gone Girl. ‘I’ve been attracted to Gillian’s work for years, because she creates these incredible, flawed females,’ she says.

Directed by Jean-Marc Vallée (who also directed last year’s critically acclaimed TV hit Big Little Lies), Sharp Objects is set in small-town Missouri, where restraint, manners and strong cocktails mask brutal violence and deep dysfunction.

Amy plays what is easily her darkest, most damaged character to date: Camille Preaker, the acerbic, alcoholic, self-harming protagonist. Recently released from a psychiatric unit, Camille, a reporter, is dispatched to Wind Gap, the town in which she grew up, to investigate the murder of two pre-teen girls.

It quickly becomes clear that the intense pain that affects her also infests the other women in her family – her uptight, neurotic mother, Adora (Patricia Clarkson) and her manipulative younger half-sister, Amma (star-in-the-making Eliza Scanlen).

As is becoming increasingly common among Hollywood’s leading ladies, Amy was also an executive producer on the series. It was she who suggested French-Canadian director Vallée. ‘There’s something about the way he tells women’s pain: he circles around it, yet gets to the heart of it,’ she says.

‘He’s not afraid to approach the violence in a way that’s also very emotional.’ For his part, Vallée praises Amy’s bravery in taking on bleak themes. ‘It was scary material, and she was so courageous to tackle this, to be so naked – literally and metaphorically,’ he says.

To help her dig into the darkness, Gillian Flynn recommended she read A Bright Red Scream. ‘It’s first-person accounts by people who self-harm,’ explains Amy, who had to wear prosthetic scars from the neck down during filming. She admits it wasn’t easy to leave Camille behind at the end of each day. ‘I’ve trained myself not to bring a character home, but there were times – whether from living in her head space or just exhaustion – when I suffered insomnia.’

The role also required her to research the psychological condition Munchausen syndrome by proxy, which causes a parent to harm their son or daughter to create the illusion that the child is ill. ‘I did a lot of reading about that too,’ says Amy. ‘It’s so against every parental instinct I have, so I just can’t imagine it. Our daughter [seven-year-old Aviana] has been hurt twice in a way that required trips to the hospital and that’s not something I’d ever want to revisit – it was traumatising.’

Happily, both Amy’s disposition – upbeat, energetic and quick to laugh – and her family life would appear to be a far cry from Camille’s. She and her husband, Darren Le Gallo, met in 2001, at an acting class in Los Angeles, and today live in the city’s glamorous Hollywood Hills. She describes their life as ‘quiet’, save for the odd karaoke night out, or in – the family’s portable karaoke machine even accompanies them on holiday.

When Amy travels for work, her husband and daughter generally go with her. ‘If I’m on my own, I engage in not-great behaviours, like hotel-room eating – sitting in bed every night with a bag of crisps and salsa and a beer,’ she admits.

The middle child of seven, Amy was born on a military base in Vicenza, Italy, where her father was stationed at the time. Her parents were Mormons and, although their adherence to the faith was ‘more cultural’ than overtly religious, ‘church played an important part in our social interactions’, she has said. ‘It instilled in me a value system I still hold true.’

The family eventually settled in Castle Rock, Colorado, when Amy was eight, where her father, having left the army, began singing professionally in nightclubs and restaurants. The rest of her family was more sport-orientated. ‘I was surrounded by these incredibly coordinated siblings who excelled at everything, whereas I just liked to read in my room,’ she laughs.

Her parents divorced when she was 11, and left Mormonism. Her mother, Kathryn, a former gymnast, was also, for a while, an amateur bodybuilder. ‘We have a good relationship, but my mom is tough and always challenged me to push myself,’ says Amy. ‘I wasn’t allowed to be afraid of things, even though I’m naturally very risk-averse. For instance, if a guy pulled up on a motorcycle, I’d be like [adopts goody-goody voice], “Don’t you understand that those are just coffins on wheels?”’

When her mother would take her to her gymnastics class, she goes on, ‘She would say: “We’re not leaving until you do this really tricky move.” That taught me to do things I was afraid of, because the sense of pride in having done something difficult was always worth it.’ It’s a skill that appears to have served her well in her career.

‘I had a kind of autonomy from childhood on,’ she continues. ‘There were so many of us that I knew my parents weren’t going to be funding my life, meaning my choices were my own and I wasn’t worried about what they thought of them.’

She gave up gymnastics, focused instead on dance and trained at a local ballet school. At 18, however, she decided she wasn’t good enough and switched her focus to musical theatre. She worked in dinner theatre for a few years before scoring a chance to audition for Drop Dead Gorgeous, the 1999 beauty-pageant comedy starring Kirstie Alley and Kirsten Dunst, in which Amy played a promiscuous cheerleader.

With Alley’s encouragement, at 24, Amy moved to Los Angeles, where her first few years attempting to break into the industry weren’t easy. ‘I auditioned a lot, but couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t working,’ she has said. ‘The problem was a lack of confidence and self-esteem,’ she tells me today.

In 2004, she was cast as the lead in the CBS series Dr Vegas, alongside Rob Lowe, but the show was dropped after just a few episodes. At that point, she considered quitting the industry.

‘I began thinking I should do something that was more secure,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t willing to be as unhappy as I was in danger of becoming and I didn’t like what it was turning me into.’

Then her fortunes began to turn around. In 2005, she was cast as the lead, Ashley, in the indie comedy Junebug. Her portrayal of the garrulous pregnant woman won her the Special Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, and two years later, scored her the part of Giselle, the optimistic princess, in Enchanted.

Achieving success at 31, rather than 21, has its advantages, she now believes. ‘At least I was able to enjoy my 20s before anyone was paying me too much attention,’ she sighs, nostalgically. ‘No Instagram, no Twitter, no Facebook – thank God! I had a bad habit of taking photos on disposable cameras that didn’t belong to me. I have no idea how many complete strangers’ cameras I mooned into back then!’ she laughs.

Since the downfall of Harvey Weinstein and the rise of the #MeToo movement, are there incidents from early in her career that she feels she wouldn’t be OK with now?

‘Yes, and I wasn’t OK with it back then either,’ she says. ‘I had to audition in a bikini. I didn’t get the role, because the character would be filmed wearing one and I don’t look good in swimwear.’

I scoff at this claim. ‘I really don’t,’ she insists. ‘And that’s OK – that’s not why I was put on this earth. But I don’t know a single woman, working in any industry, who doesn’t have a story like that, about feeling vulnerable.’

I wonder whether, beneath her sanguine exterior, some of the self-esteem issues she mentioned earlier still lurk. Despite being petite, Amy is surprisingly self-deprecating about her body.

‘I always look pregnant in photos,’ she claims with a laugh. ‘I wear loose dresses because I have a paunch. It’s not a big paunch, but it’s there!’ And she’s less than comfortable being snapped on the red carpet. ‘I understand it’s part of the job, but it’s not my favourite place,’ she has said.

‘I love fashion, but having to be somebody who promotes that industry has always been a tricky one for me, because of the way it affects women’s sense of self,’ she says. ‘I’ve lectured several designers about their sizing. If a dress in my size is five inches too small for me, what’s happening?’

Even before the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements began, Amy was catapulted into the centre of rows about sexism within the industry. When thousands of email accounts at Sony were hacked in 2014, the revelations about American Hustle focused mainly on the fact that Amy and her co-star Jennifer Lawrence were paid less than their male counterparts, Bradley Cooper and Christian Bale.

At the time, she chose not to comment. ‘Everyone wanted me to talk about how I felt about it, but I want to fight for people outside our industry, so to come out and look ungrateful about what I’m paid as an actress just didn’t feel right,’ she says today.

‘I do believe in equal pay, but let’s start with our teachers. Let’s get waiters paid the minimum wage. That’s what’s great about what’s happening with Time’s Up – we’re starting to have bigger conversations than just about what’s happening in Hollywood.’

Other emails were also leaked, alleging that the film’s director, David O Russell, was so tough on Amy that Bale stepped in to address the problem. ‘He was hard on me, that’s for sure. It was a lot,’ Amy later said, and she has admitted in interviews that she cried ‘most days’ during the making of the film. ‘I remember saying to my husband, “If I can’t figure this out, I can’t work any more. I’ll just have to do something else. I don’t want to be that person, not for my daughter,”’ she has said.

When she talks about coping during the making of Sharp Objects, it’s clear that she was determined for it to be a very different experience. ‘I’m now able to think, “OK, I know what’s going on here. I just need to go to work, do my job, then come home, make dinner and do something grounding.”’

She was recently reunited with Bale for the upcoming biopic Backseat, about former US vice-president Dick Cheney. She whips out her phone to show me an image of her in character as his wife, Lynne, alongside Bale, who played Cheney, and both are virtually unrecognisable thanks to extensive prosthetics.

The lengthy process of transformation renewed her respect for her co-star. ‘I had to wear the prosthetics for only two weeks, but Christian was coming in at 2am every day to have his applied before the day’s filming started. His work ethic is just incredible.’

Amy is keen to do more producing, too. ‘There’s lots in pencil on the calendar, but I don’t talk about anything until it’s in pen,’ she says. Risk-averse to the end. And with that, she gives me her top karaoke-bar tips and slips back to her quiet life in the hills.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/life/amy-adams-equal-pay-family-life-grittiest-role-date/#comments

#amy adams #telegraph #sharp objects #hbo #gillian flynn #jean marc vallee #cheney #christian bale

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sage-nebula · 6 years

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In Mystic Messenger, it feel like all MCs from Good Ends are meant to be what the route owners want and need, their ideal MCs in a way. Like I could figure out the characters' preferences from their routes, but that's not the case with Saeyoung. He even said outright that his route MC (naive and obnoxious???) fit 707 the mask better than the real him. Sure, what he likes might not be what is right for him, but then that wouldn't be ideal. What do you think is Saeyoung's ideal MC?

While I agree with you that the minimal characterization MC has in Mystic Messenger varies depending on whose route you choose (in that MC has to behave a certain way to get the Good End for whatever character the player decides to pursue), I don’t really like using the word “ideal,” because I think that it makes MC less of a person and more of a fantasy. Which, I mean, don’t get me wrong, MC as she is in the game isn’t a character. She’s a placeholder, a blank slate; her purpose is for the player to project onto her, which is why she doesn’t have a stated canonical history, or any real personality to speak of. It’s also, as much as the fandom likes to meme about it, why she doesn’t have any eyes. “Eyes are the windows to the soul,” as the cliché goes, and by not giving her eyes Cheritz is showing us that MC doesn’t have a “soul” of her own, so to speak. Her soul is supposed to be our soul. She is supposed to be us.

With that said, as you probably know I grew extremely frustrated with MC during Saeyoung’s Route. I don’t feel that MC, as Cheritz writes her, is a good fit for him. I don’t think she’s what he needs, and in honesty I don’t even think she’s what he wants; she’s what he’s made to want because Cheritz had to make the relationship romantic by the end of the eleven days, and having him reject MC when she was being intrusive, pushy, and clingy would have made players upset. Rather than write an MC who would actually be good for Saeyoung (and thus be someone that he would naturally want to be with), they instead warped Saeyoung to force him to give into her, even if not the Manic Pixie Dream Girl™ version of her. And that, as you could imagine, was pretty disagreeable to me.

So when I say that I ship Saeyoung/MC, what I actually mean is that I ship Saeyoung and the MC that I created. I ship them as I write them, and I ship them based on the version of their story as I rewrite it (which deviates from canon during the apartment days, albeit not by too much, because honestly, it’s not that hard to fix). I’m happy to describe her, but I feel to get the full picture, you’re going to need some backstory. Well, that, and a picture; for reference, my MC (and the one that I imagine being with Saeyoung) is MC 4. This girl:

So with that said, let’s begin.

First, the backstory. How I have it, MC’s name actually is MC … as far as she knows, anyway. You see, sad backstories are par for the course in Mystic Messenger, and MC is no exception. When she was little (say, around nine or so), she was in an accident. It was a pretty major one; details are hazy, but as the story goes she was on a train with her parents, traveling somewhere, and the train derailed and crashed. MC was thrown clear of the train car; she somehow (quite miraculously!) survived without serious injuries, but she woke up on the ground, completely alone, with no memory of how she got there or where she was. It was quite frightening; she called out for help, but no one came. As a result of that, and since she could still walk, she picked herself up off the ground and, well … walked. When she located the train tracks, she followed them until she managed to make it back to a station. There, some adults found her, and they asked her where her parents were. She said, truthfully, that she didn’t know. They asked her what her name was. And she said, again truthfully, that she didn’t know … but then she said, “MC.” It was all she could remember. She didn’t think it was really right (it was sort of right, she thought, it felt right, just not … complete), but it was all she could think of, it was all she could remember. And the adults, in lieu of anything else to call her, went with it.

(In reality, her parents had named her Mi-Cha. Her father did a lot of business overseas, and so he had taught her how to write her name in English as well as Korean. She had thought the English letters looked funny, so she had a lot of fun writing them out … and since the M and C were capitals, those were the ones she remembered. Mi-Cha, MC. Head injuries can be funny like that, I suppose.)

Of course the adults at the station knew about the accident, but of the few survivors of the wreck, none of them laid claim to MC. MC didn’t recognize any of them, either. And so without any other options, particularly since MC couldn’t remember if she had any other family, the adults at the station turned her over to the police, who put her into foster care.

The foster families that MC had weren’t … bad, per se. She moved homes a lot, especially in the beginning as the system tried to put her front and center to see if they could find a family to adopt her. The thing is, they couldn’t; MC was already older than most children who get adopted by the time she entered the system, her name struck potential parents as odd and she wasn’t willing to change it, and the fact that she was not exactly the cute and sweet type didn’t help matters, either. So she changed homes a lot, until finally she found one that stuck. The home was … again, it wasn’t necessarily bad, but it … this particular foster home had a lot of kids. And as a result of having so many kids, the foster parents were … very strict. It was almost run like military barracks; there were always chores to do (a lot of them), and the foster mother in particular was rarely satisfied with the job that was done. As MC grew, the fact that she was very independent and mouthy really didn’t earn her favors with the foster parents. It also didn’t earn her favors with potential adoptive parents. And though it could likely be guessed, it didn’t earn her favors with her foster siblings, either. MC spent about two years in that home before she decided she had enough, and decided to take matters into her own hands. In this case, “matters” meant robbing a little safe that was in the study one night while everyone was sleeping, and—with all the cash she could carry and a backpack of clothes on her back—running away.

MC was fourteen.

She was fourteen, but even at fourteen she knew that it wouldn’t be wise to stay in the same city, so she used some of the money she stole to get a train to skip town. (The second she boarded the train, she felt like she was going to suffocate. It was anxiety—she was having a panic attack. But she couldn’t remember the accident that had killed her parents and left her an orphan, so she told herself this reaction was stupid and forced herself to suck it up.) She rode the train a couple towns over, and then decided that it would be best to lay low for a while, to make sure no cops were going to come look for her. Unfortunately, she was a fourteen-year-old with only a wad of cash, no diploma (since she was now a … she might not have even finished middle school), and no way of getting a job. This meant that she was now homeless. But MC figured, well, in a way she had been homeless ever since her parents died, since the foster homes never really felt like home to her. She had always known that they were going to be temporary. So she could do this. She could. She would do this.

It wasn’t easy.

MC had, at least, the foresight to run away in the spring, so it wasn’t too cold out. But she had a lot of nights curled up on porches so she could avoid the rain. She was able to buy food, at least, with what money she had, but because she had a limited amount of money she sometimes resorted to stealing fruit from market stalls, and she really wasn’t very good at it at first. After a time she managed to find a church, and the people there helped her. They gave her food, at least, because they felt bad, but any time they started to ask questions about her family life, she always made sure to beat a hasty retreat. She was still afraid the cops would arrest her if they found out that she had stolen the money from the foster home and booked it, after all. In her mind, she was a fugitive. She didn’t want to push her luck.

But the church was warm (enough), and safe, so she stayed there a lot, even though she technically wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t hard; she would hide in a bathroom stall until the church was locked up for a night, and then sleep on one of the pews. The church had a communal bathroom, with a shower and everything, so that helped her keep clean. And so long as she made sure to duck out of the way and retreat back to the bathroom whenever she heard the church doors open in the morning, she could avoid being caught. It was a foolproof plan. MC was pretty sure it wasn’t a problem that she had dropped out of school. Clearly, she was smart enough without it.

This continued on for about two, maybe three, years. And then, when she was about seventeen, she met Byungho.

Byungho was a businessman about five years her senior (so, around twenty-two) who came to the church every so often. MC didn’t talk to him at first; she made it a practice of not talking very much with others, because again, when she talked to people, they tended to ask questions, and that was something she wanted to avoid. But he took notice of her anyway, given that she was frequently in the church, and so one day, he struck up conversation with her. It was light, innocent; he asked her what her name was, commented that “MC” was a rather odd name to have. He tried to make small talk, and she made an excuse to get out of it. But the next time she saw him, he tried talking to her again. And the time after that, and the time after that. And on the fifth time, he invited her to go get lunch with him—his treat.

MC felt that it was probably a bad idea. But she was hungry, and he seemed nice enough all the times she talked with him, so … what the heck. She went.

As it turns out, Byungho seemed quite nice. He seemed that way. They went to a restaurant and had lunch, and he confessed that he thought she was quite pretty. MC, as a seventeen-year-old homeless girl, was caught pretty off-guard by this. Had he … was he blind? Her clothes were shabby and ill-fitting, since by now they were donations from people at the church. Her hair was unkempt, and cut unevenly since she had cut it herself. She had acne. She never got enough to eat, so she was underweight. Like, honestly … had he seen her? But he insisted that she was pretty, and that he liked her, and that he wanted to spend more time with her. And she, well … she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard such kindness. It was flattering, and it made her feel good, so she accepted the compliments. And when he said he would drive her home, she confessed that she was staying at the church, because she had nowhere else to go.

And that was when he invited her to come stay with him.

The good news is that it wasn’t hard for MC to move into his apartment, because all she had was her backpack of worldly possessions. The bad news is that Byungho was not nearly so nice as he seemed. Sure, he seemed nice at first; he treated her kindly at first. But you know … that’s how they get you. And that’s how he got her. It didn’t take very long for things to get bad. At first it was little things, like he was irritated that she hadn’t prepared dinner for him by the time he came home from work, as he felt a good girlfriend should (particularly one that was staying with him for free). But then it escalated. His annoyance turned to anger, turned to violence. And his expectations from her, as his girlfriend, kept mounting.

MC tried to stick it out at first. This was better than being homeless, she told herself. His apartment was nice. He wasn’t home all the time. He had to work during the day. And maybe this was what girlfriends did. She didn’t know, she had never been anyone’s girlfriend before. And who else would want her? He had wanted her when she was just a grungy, scrawny homeless girl. No one else would have wanted her. This was … this was as good as she was going to get, so she should suck it up, and maybe she could learn to like it.

Of course, she never did. It would be impossible for anyone to like that.

She stayed there for about a year and a half before she hit her breaking point. Really, in honesty, she had hit her breaking point before that; while Byungho was at work, she would spend her time on the internet, trying to learn whatever skills she could so that she could get a job. Most places required some kind of degree, but call centers (and particularly international call centers) didn’t seem to (and even if they did, MC felt maybe she could forge one). International call centers did require some kind of English competency, though, so she did her best to try to learn at least basic English on the internet. And when she finally hit the last straw, well … she did what she does best.

She waited until he was at work, and until he had been there for a couple hours and thus wouldn’t double back. Then she robbed the safe he had in the apartment, stuffed all that cash and her worldly possessions into her backpack, and got the hell out of dodge.

Once again, she hopped a train (panic attack or no panic attack, it wasn’t worse than the Hell she was escaping) and skipped town, this time because she was terrified he would find her if she didn’t. This is how she ended up in the city where Mystic Messenger takes place. By this time she was eighteen or nineteen, so although she was homeless once again, she decided that she wasn’t just going to be homeless this time. Instead, she purchased herself a pay-as-you-go cell phone, and used a local library’s public computer to put in applications at whatever places in the area were hiring, as well as applying at various businesses around. Fortune was on her side; she got hired at a tech support call center (international; she spoke just enough English to secure the position), and after a month of working there, she was able to use her first paycheck and the money she still had after robbing Byungho to buy a small, modest apartment.

MC managed to keep this up for about four years, and in honesty, it was the happiest she had ever been in her life. Oh sure, she had to forge a couple documents in order to make it work, given that she didn’t have a state issued ID and was terrified of being on any sort of radar that Byungho might find if he looked hard enough (plus she was technically still a minor at eighteen, so she lied about her age and said she was twenty so that her employers or landlord wouldn’t think to alert the foster care system), but that was nothing that a library computer and dedicated research couldn’t help her do. Plus, the call center she worked at wasn’t exactly prestigious, and neither was her apartment. Her employers were just happy to have someone else on the phones. Her landlord was happy to have a quiet tenant. It was fine—great, even. She was able to have a nice little flat, she was able to be regularly fed, there was no one there to abuse her, she had steady income. Everything was great.

… until about six months before Mystic Messenger took place.

As I said, MC maintained this lifestyle for four years. She did so off the grid (i.e. no social media; Saeyoung lies through his teeth when he says he found her Facebook, because she doesn’t have a Facebook, because she’s not giving Byungho any way to find her), but she still did it. But six months before Mystic Messenger takes place, her call center went under. There was no explanation for it that MC could see; one day she had a job, and the next it was out of business. She was unemployed. Completely jobless, and definitely in trouble.

For two months, she tried finding a new job, but the job market was … not good. It was a wonder she got hired so quickly the last time; this time, it was like nowhere was hiring. She had money saved up, so for two months she was fine … but she could see that her savings were going to dwindle fast. MC felt she had two options: she could stay there until she was evicted with nothing, or she could leave when her lease ended and wait until she got a new job to get a new apartment.

She took option two, figuring it was safest.

She sold off her furniture for extra money and, hating everything, hit the streets once again. Fortunately, she wasn’t on the streets for very long; there was an apartment building she knew of on the other side of town that, well … it wasn’t in the greatest condition, honestly. Practically no one lived there. But the plus side of this was that no one would notice if someone was squatting, at least if the squatter was careful. So MC took advantage of this. Specifically, she took advantage of an unused, unlockable storage closet up on one of the higher floors. It was a walk-in storage closet, with threadbare carpeting and a bare bulb, but it was enough. It was enough, especially since there was a rec center with public bathrooms (+showers) right behind the apartment building. It was temporary, anyway, MC told herself. She would use her pay-as-you-go phone and find herself a new job. Once she had a new job, she would get a new apartment. She wouldn’t be homeless for long. She did it once before, and she could do it again. She would do it again.

But as the months—four of them, to be specific—wore on, it became more and more difficult to remain upbeat and optimistic.

She had been homeless before, so she could do it again. And she did. She told herself that her storage closet was a studio apartment. She told herself that she would get herself someplace nice. But the job market was just not good, and since her old place of employment was just gone it wasn’t even like she had a reference despite working solidly for four years. In honesty, MC felt like she was at an all-time low, even as she told herself (over, and over, and over again) that she had to stay optimistic, because if she let herself get depressed (or rather, if she acknowledged that she was depressed), then it would just make the whole situation worse. She she tried to combat her sense of hopelessness and depression with aggressive optimism. She tried very, very hard.

And that … that was when she met Unknown.

More specifically: In lieu of any callbacks about jobs, MC browsed the app store on her cheap phone, looking for something to amuse herself with. She came across a free app called “Mystic Messenger” with a blank icon. It caught her eye, and honestly … she couldn’t say why it did. But it did. So, figuring that maybe it was a dating app or something else she could waste time with, she figured “what the heck” and downloaded it. Sitting there in her little “studio apartment,” she downloaded it, because she was depressed and bored and had nothing else better to do since no one was calling her back about a job.

And that was how she met Unknown.

Make no mistake, she gave him hell. She interrogated him about his name. She interrogated him about why he was so obsessed with returning a phone to its owner. She called him on his vague non-answers. And oh, you better believe she trolled the hell out of him. It got to the point where he ended up getting rather irate and snappy with her during their exchange, his patience clearly lost as he tried to get her to agree to go to some stranger’s apartment, and honestly … she strongly considered just saying “no u” and deleting the app. She did. But it was only 6pm. She had nowhere to be, and nothing to do. And while she was now a far cry from the naive teenager who had taken a man at his word—while she was now a much smarter twenty-two or twenty-three-year-old—she figured … well. She had nothing else better to do. She had nothing worth stealing save the sparse clothes, money, and other basic toiletries in her backpack. And even if he was going to be lying in wait, waiting to rape and murder her, well, she could fight back. And even if she couldn’t, it’s not like she had anyone who would miss her, anyway.

So she figured, what the heck, and she went.

As it turns out, Unknown didn’t try to rape and murder her (although, as she pretended not to see the door lock, and he once again grew terse through the texts, she had the strangest feeling that he was … but that was stupid, he couldn’t be watching her. But all the same, she stopped trolling after a bit), but he did want her to go into the apartment. And MC, against her better judgment (because this was a stranger’s house, what if the cops were called on her?) … well, again. Nothing better to do, and a creepy feeling of eyes on the back of her neck. So she did. She entered the apartment.

And that was when she met the RFA.

Now, you have to understand: MC was more than a little bemused as she joined this group chat. She was more than a little aggravated how they kept referring to her as an “it.” And she thought that it was kind of hilarious how a party was treated like Super Serious Business™ (she laughed out loud when 707 bolded and increased the font size as he exclaimed Hosting parties???). But when they said that they wanted her to be the party coordinator, and that being the party coordinator meant staying at the apartment …

Listen.

It’s not that MC had a secret passion for hosting parties. It’s not that she felt sympathy for these people who were, apparently, sad over the death of some woman named Rika, and wanted to carry on the parties in her name or whatever. It’s not that she thought that any of the guys were hot (although, to be fair, everyone in the chat was strangely attractive, Jaehee included), and that she wanted a boyfriend. No, this had nothing to do with any of that.

Instead, it was … listen. Not thirty minutes ago, MC had been living in a storage closet that she tried to insist to herself was just a shitty studio apartment. Now she was seated in the living room of an apartment with very nice furniture, and nice walls, and a bathroom with a toilet and a really nice shower. There was a kitchen where she could make food, and a fridge and cabinets where she could store it. It was just down the street from a convenience mart. And while it was clear that being the RFA party coordinator was not a paying gig, in MC’s mind, the equation went as thus:

Do a good job as temporary party coordinator and impress RFA

RFA wants to keep her on for more parties because they are impressed

At that point, she mentions need a paying gig on top of this

One of the now impressed members of the RFA with a career (e.g. Jumin, V, Jaehee, etc) offers her a job with them

SUCCESS AND PROFIT

It was as good a plan as any in MC’s mind, and in any case, Rika’s apartment was a HUGE step-up from where she had been staying before. So she readily agreed, and didn’t even call 707 out on his bs when he said that he looked up her social media (social media which didn’t exist, and anyway, he only had “MC” to go on, like … she scoffed at the idea that he could dig up anything on her). Instead, she played along with him. He made her laugh. He genuinely made her laugh. And it had been … well, it felt like it had been years since she had laughed or smiled that much. She really liked talking to him. He was a funny guy.

She thought that, the perks of having a nice place to stay and the potential for a future job aside, she rather liked this situation she found herself in. She still wanted to know who tf Unknown was (and she forwarded the text messages and chat log to Seven), but all the same, she still had to say (to herself and not through text) …

Thanks, Unknown.

So, with all of that foundation laid, what do we know about MC? Well, succinctly:

MC is smart. She’s not a technical genius by any stretch (though she does, thanks to her call center job, have some background knowledge on computers to an extent—she can troubleshoot, at least), but she is street smart. She has spent a good chunk of her life living on the streets, and she knows how to get by, even if it’s scraping by due to how hard homeless life is. She’s not naive; her circumstances have forced her to grow up ahead of her time, and in honesty, being treated as naive is pretty grating for her. She knows how to take care of herself, because she’s had to learn the hard way, and she really doesn’t take well to that being dismissed.

On that note, she’s independent, and extremely so. Again, she’s spent pretty much her whole life looking after herself. She didn’t always do a great job of it, but she did her best, and she’s still doing her best, and this is something she takes pride in. She’s not helpless; even if she’s in a bad situation, MC doesn’t see herself as even remotely helpless. She’s not a damsel who ever needs to be rescued. She can protect and rescue herself. She always has, after all, every time. Any time she was in a bad situation, the only person who ever got her out of it was her. So again, MC chafes if she’s treated like a helpless damsel, just as she chafes at being treated as naive, and she doesn’t do well with having her independence compromised. She’s rather headstrong like that.

She’s gutsy. Daring, brave, bold—you name it, she’s it. It takes guts to rob your foster family and then run away like she did. It takes guts to do the same to your abusive boyfriend. And more than that, it takes resilience to be able to survive the way she has. MC, despite everything, doesn’t break. No matter how bad a situation gets, no matter how badly she’s hurt, she always manages to push herself up and keep going. Even if it takes every last ounce of willpower she’s got, she does it. And she doesn’t back down, either; no matter how intimidating someone may seem, if she has to fight, she’ll do it. Sure, she might be afraid, but she’ll still do it. She’s incredibly brave and incredibly determined. It’s how she has survived for this long. But she’s also …

… paranoid. MC is secretive to the point of paranoia about her personal information and identity. She doesn’t use social media because she’s afraid of being found. She forges official documents as best she can to obscure her identity (not thinking, of course, about the national registry; if her call center job hadn’t been shady, they wouldn’t have hired her). She relentlessly grills Unknown and is honestly even a little savage with him in the prologue chat because the fact that he won’t reveal his real name sets off warning bells for her, because what ulterior motives could he have for keeping his name secret? And she doesn’t tell the RFA much about herself, either. She shares her name (MC), but she doesn’t bother to tell them that the picture she had in the chat was a selfie. Better to let them believe she looks like something else. She doesn’t tell them her age, and she lets them believe that she had a place to stay before Rika’s apartment (well, a nice place to stay). Even when Seven asks about her, she dodges around her questions no differently than he dodges hers. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him; it’s that she doesn’t (easily) trust anyone.(Plus, wouldn’t they judge her if they knew she was a jobless hobo before this? Better safe than sorry in that respect, too.)

She has … ZERO tolerance for abuse. Given her own life—her time in the foster home, and especially her time with Byungho—she has no tolerance for abuse or abusers. None. Zero. She refuses to “let” herself ever be in that situation again, and if she ever sees anyone else in that situation, she gets real mad, real fast. Her attitude toward Rika is pretty much summed up as “bring the bitch to me so she can CATCH THESE HANDS” and nothing short of it. But that said, she also wouldn’t tolerate, say, Saeran abusing Saeyoung, if it ever came to that. She’ll feel for Saeran. She’s been abused herself. But being abused is no excuse to abuse others. She’s not about to have it. No tolerance for that. None whatsoever. None, nada, zip, zilch, zero.

And she’s not nearly so cheerful as she seems. MC has had a hard life. That hard life has left her with quite a lot of emotional scars. And while she tried to tell herself, over and over and over again, that things would be okay and she couldn’t let herself be depressed, that doesn’t change the fact that she was depressed enough to follow some stranger’s instructions to some strange apartment even though she was fully aware that she was at risk of being raped and/or murdered when she got there. (Or having her backpack of worldly possessions, which she can’t leave in the storage closet since it has no lock, stolen from her.) Again, she’s not actually naive or innocent. She plays along with jokes because she loves to laugh (and oh, she does—she loves laughing and joking and playing around!), but that’s all it is—playing. When play time is over, she can and does get serious. She still tries to not feel depressed, but … well. It’s harder than it seems, even if she still pushes through it and keeps going for the sake of it.

She is, should she find someone she can truly connect (safely and happily) with, quite devoted. MC’s never really had someone to truly love, who truly loved her in return. This isn’t to say that she has no idea how relationships work, because she does. She was friends (casually) with her coworkers at her call center job, for instance, and after Byungho you at least better believe she knows what not to do or settle for in relationships. But she’s never had a really loving relationship of her own. No family to speak of, no best friends, and Byungho was certainly not a loving boyfriend. MC has been pretty isolated in this way for pretty much her entire life. Casual work friends are nice, but … it’s not the same. So as a result, should she find someone that she truly cares for—even if they don’t love her in return, if she loves and cares about them, she’s devoted to them. She’ll stand by them through anything. She’s steadfast and loyal. She’s protective and caring. And she doesn’t really need anything in return, because for her, it’s enough to have this chance to help someone that she cares about, and to do something good—to do what’s right.

On that note, she’s got a strong sense of justice. Or at least … she has a good sense of right and wrong, and she also does have vested interest in helping the less fortunate (obviously, look how many years she has spent homeless). The charity party actually sounds like a great idea to her (even if internally she’s like “can I bet on the donation side and can you people donate a job to me because tbh …”) because she knows better than most how absolutely awful it is to have literally nothing. She wants to help those that are “less fortunate,” she wants to host the party not just because she wants to impress the RFA (but mainly that), but also because it’s a legitimately good cause in her mind. It’s something she cares about. Though, on that note …

Strong sense of justice or not, she’s resourceful, and is not afraid to lie or steal to get what she needs to live, i.e., she can be ruthless if she has to be. I mean, again … look at how much stealing she has done, look at how she might lie and deceive to protect herself. She has a good sense of right and wrong, but she’s not above doing what she has to in order to survive, even if it’s illegal. MC figures her continued survival is a good enough cause to justify that sort of thing.

So with all of that listed out, what does that say for the story? And more specifically, her relationship with Saeyoung?

I see the story playing out mostly as it does until the apartment days are reached. Once Saeyoung arrives at the apartment, and makes it clear he doesn’t want to pursue a relationship with her—that’s fine. It hurts, sure, to have him be so cold when before this he was honestly the closest to a best she ever had (and she knows that’s ridiculous given they’ve only known each other a handful of days, but still), but it’s fine. If he doesn’t want to date her, that’s fine. It’s not like romance is the most important thing in the world, and he has other problems. He has way more important problems. Hell, the entire RFA has way more important problems. Whoever knew a charity organization could be full of this much drama? Jfc.

But that said, there are still … other difficulties.

When they get into arguments, their arguments are because she wants him to eat something, and he refuses (and you know, she respects his boundaries, but he needs to eat, he doesn’t get to harp on her for not eating if he won’t). Their arguments are because she wants to go to the convenience mart, and he’s paranoid about her leaving the apartment. (They compromise by being on the phone the whole time, even if they’re not speaking.) Their arguments are because he, unintentionally or otherwise, treats her like she’s naive and/or helpless, and she gets pissed off, because he has no right to judge her like that when he knows nothing about her. When he tries to warn her that there are dangerous men out there, she laughs, bitterly and without humor, because yeah, trust her, she knows. When she makes an offhand comment about how, even with the bomb, Rika’s apartment is still way better than where she was before, and he shrewdly asks her where she was before, she dodges the question. And when, ultimately, they get in their last big fight and he demands to know why she likes him, she lists off all the reasons why she does, because unlike Canon MC, this MC knows. She likes him because he’s smart, brave, selfless. Yeah, he made her laugh, and that’s a plus, too, considering laughter is a rarity in her life, but the jokes aside, she loves him—likes him, she amends, way more for his cleverness, his bravery, his selflessness. He risked everything with the agency to come protect her. He does everything for the RFA despite being so busy with his own work. No matter how stressed or bogged down he is, he’s determined enough to push through. He cares enough to go the extra mile for others, not expecting anything in return. She likes him because underneath the jokey, pranky 707 exterior, he’s a genuinely good person who tries his best even if he doesn’t always manage to succeed. There’s sincerty in how much he cares even if he tries to deny it. And that … she can relate to some of that, and admire even more of it. She started out liking the 707 in the chat room, yeah, because he was fun to talk to. But now? Now she genuinely cares about the Seven that’s right in front of her.

He’s at a loss. She just went on some huge speech about everything she likes about him—and at some point, yes, she included how serious and dedicated he is, she likes him being serious, even if she adds she’d also like it if he would take breaks to sleep and eat—and he’s … at a loss. He admits he doesn’t know what to do. So she says:

“Just think about accepting help. That’s all I want. I just—it doesn’t have to be me. If you don’t want me helping you, fine. But let someone help you, Seven. Let Jumin help you, or Jaehee. Maybe even Zen. Just—I want to help you. I’m here to help you however you need. I want to help you find and rescue Saeran, I want to help you get through this. But if it’s not me, just let it be someone. You don’t have to be alone, Seven. You don’t have to do this all by yourself. I … I know how hard it—I know what it’s like doing everything by yourself even when it’s something far less risky than all this. I know how it is doing just basic level hard stuff all by yourself. But what you’re dealing with is extra. It’s a lot, even for several people, but especially for one. So just … please think about accepting some help. Think about accepting your friends. That can include me, or it can not … and if it does, then you can still tell me to get lost when all is said and done, that’ll be fine. I’ll respect that. But just take some time, and think about accepting some help from someone. That’s all I ask.”

And after a moment … that is what he’d quietly agree to.

He and MC would not become a couple at this point, but he would accept help from her. He’d start to tell her more about Saeran. He’d explain what he’s doing. She’d help him prepare for the trip to Magenta, and she’d go there with him. And she wouldn’t go there just so that she could get in the car when he tells her to when V shows up, or so that she could hide behind him. This MC, as you can tell from all of the above, is proactive. She’s brave, and she’s a fighter. This MC is not someone that Saeyoung stands before like a shield; she is someone who stands by his side, who gives him a hand to hold without any expectation of a relationship (despite their mutual crushes; it’s just not the time). Sure, he still tells her to stand behind him, but her attitude is “no u” before she moves to stand by his side. Will he protect her? Sure. But she’ll protect him right back, or go down swinging at the very least. Saeyoung, much like MC, has spent his entire life taking care of himself. He’s spent his entire life having the burden entirely on his shoulders. So it’s about damn time he had someone to share it with, just as it’s about damn time MC had some help, too, however much she (like him, tbh—they’re both so stubborn about it) thinks she has everything under control. Saeyoung has more technical knowledge that she does, given that he is a canonical, literal genius, but outside of that, they’re equals. She’s not a damsel for him to protect, rescue, and pamper. She’s a partner who stands by his side and gives him the support he needs to make it through, just as he does the same for her.

So as you can imagine, she’s a lot more proactive in my version of the Secret Endings as well. She floors the getaway car when it’s time. She learns from Vanderwood how to do first aid treatment for Saeyoung’s injury. When Rika says that she’s going to brainwash Saeyoung, MC says, “Over my dead body,” and moves to stand in front of him. At which point, of course, we get this from Rika:

“That would be a waste, because I believe everyone has a place here at Mint Eye. But if that’s truly what you want … that can be arranged.”

At that point, Believers enter the cell to drag MC off, and Vanderwood has to hold Saeyoung back as he starts flipping out, but Saeran intervenes since Rika promised him that he could have the toy that he personally sent to her old apartment …

As you can see, things really start to deviate.

(Note that once they’re away from the cells, Saeran tells MC that he has zero interest in her. He only said what he did to mess with Saeyoung. MC’s pretty unimpressed and lets him know it. He’s irritated by how unimpressed she is, and she’s petty and satisfied.)

Unlike canon, where they’re engaged promptly once Saeran is rescued, MC and Saeyoung don’t even officially start dating until after Saeran is rescued and has started the healing process. Note that, also unlike canon, MC can’t really stay at Rika’s apartment anymore, because RFA isn’t having that, what with there being a bomb and all. But she also never told them that she was a homeless squatter, so … #awkward. She ends up having Vanderwood take her back to the storage closet, and when he sees that it is, in fact, a storage closet—

“I like to think of it as—it’s not a storage closet. It’s a studio apartment,” MC says.

“It’s a storage closet,” Vanderwood says. “Oh, for fucksake—”

MC and Saeyoung aren’t officially dating yet, but Vanderwood still thinks Saeyoung would flip if he knew his not-girlfriend was staying in a storage closet. Aside from which, over the course of the Secret Endings, Saeyoung, MC, and Vanderwood became The Secret End Squad™, and that’s a bond not easily broken. So Vanderwood says, “Get your backpack and let’s go” and takes her back to his place. Yeah, that’s right: post-Secret Endings, MC is (at least for a time) roomies with Vanderwood.

#RoomieAdventures (and also #JobSearchAdventures because at this point they’re both unemployed lololol)

(Saeyoung’s reaction when he learns this is priceless, I’m sure.)

So yeah, all in all, the MC that I imagine for Saeyoung is someone who stands beside him, as his equal. Someone who respects his boundaries and does not push a relationship, but also someone who does push the notion that he should let someone help him, because she genuinely cares about and wants to help. She’s had a hard life, but that hard life has made it so that she can stand at his equal. Just as his hardships developed him, hers have developed her. She’s someone who can support him, as much as he supports her. She’s someone who wants to.

And ultimately, arrogant though it may sound, I think that an MC like this … is much better suited for him than the MC that Cheritz vaguely defined. But that’s just my opinion; everyone else’s mileage may vary.

#atnak16 #scrawlers chats with a mystic messenger #(not really but that's as good a tag as any)#mm MC #mcseven #(not so) fun fact: Saeyoung's agency is the reason why MC's call center went under #it was a paid hit #Saeyoung himself might have even been involved (but maybe not)#so whoops. sorry MC.#(it's ok. it all worked out in the end)

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bloomsburgu · 3 years

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How this alumna went from respected business leader and Army veteran to state treasurer

By Tom McGuire Marketing and Communications

To say Stacy Garrity ’86 is not your typical politician is an understatement. She went from political unknown to winning a state row office, a journey that has taken the Bradford County native around the world. Her election victory shocked even the most optimistic of supporters and has suddenly thrust her into the thick of the political world.

So how did the Athens resident and retired Army Reserve colonel make it to Harrisburg as Pennsylvania’s new state treasurer?

The oldest of four daughters of Howard Garrity and Beverly Arbie, “we were raised to be about God, country, and family,” says Garrity. “We went to church every Wednesday and Sunday. In the summer, we attended vacation Bible school, and every morning at school, we recited the Pledge of Allegiance. And on top of everything, no matter what, I had to watch out for my sisters.”

“My parents were very encouraging,” says Garrity. “They always made it a big thing to say that whatever you put your mind to do, you can do it. I grew up just believing it in a naive sort of way.”

Following graduation from Sayre High School, Garrity knew she was going to college. It was something her parents drilled into her and her sisters. However, the first-generation student admits she didn’t put much thought into what school she would attend. “My reason for [first] choosing Lock Haven was simple; my friends were going there.”

“I wasn’t well-traveled and lived a pretty sheltered life, soI figured I could carpool and come back home on the weekends,” Garrity says. “After a year of adjusting to college life, I realized I should look for a school with more of a focus on business, which is what I was interested in. When I looked around, I saw that Bloomsburg had a very good program and so I transferred.”

As a student, Garrity was intrigued by business and economics and how markets function. It was a field dominated by males in the 1980s, which did not worry her in the least. At BU, Garrity studied finance and accounting and was influenced by then chair of the accounting and business law department, the late Bernard Dill.

“Professor Dill was very engaging with his students,” Garrity recalls. “He was funny, he was motivating, and he made me take a strong interest in the major.”

Garrity, a runner in high school, also found time to be a varsity cheerleader, but more importantly, she joined the Army ROTC on the encouragement of her parents, both 20-year Navy Reserve veterans.

“Basic training was an eye-opening experience. I wasn’t mentally prepared for people being in my face and yelling. We weren’t allowed to call home for a few weeks, and when we did, of course, my mom immediately said forget it and to come home. My dad said never quit. So, I stayed so I wouldn’t disappoint my father.”

“My dad supported us and told us ‘whatever your mind believes you can achieve, you can achieve’ and that ‘winners never quit, and quitters never win.’ It stuck with me.”

After graduating from BU, Garrity joined Global Tungsten and Powders Corporation , or GTP, in Towanda and advanced through several positions, becoming vice president of two of GTP’s three business units. She was VP for government affairs and industry liaison before stepping down to assume her elected position.

At the same time, Garrity was a member of the Army Reserve, but certainly had no plans for what would become a 30-year military career.

“My original idea was to do my six years and then get out. Of course, after 9/11, I went to Kuwait. That was my first deployment. Upon returning home, I just could not bring myself to get out. I felt I needed to stay and serve our country.”

GTP management shared Garrity’s commitment to the Reserve. “At some companies, when you return from a deployment, management will try to reorganize you out. But every time I got back from a deployment, GTP would promote me. They are a great company that has been around for more than 100 years. We have many third-generation employees. And, of course, they were always very proud of me and my work.”

“The entire GTP Group organization has deep respect for Stacy,” says Hermann Walser, president and CEO. “She is always looking beyond her direct responsibilities. The well-being of all stakeholders, customers, employees, community, and country, is her priority. Her ability to motivate and convince people, to communicate, and to network are unique. We will desperately miss her in this function, as well as a member of our GTP family.”

During her last overseas deployment in 2008-09, Garrity earned the nickname “Angel of the Desert” while serving as the acting battalion commander of the military police at Camp Bucca in southern Iraq.“Our mission was to provide care and custody with dignity and respect to the 7,000 detainees.”

“To make sure all the rules and regulations were being followed, I would walk the camp after midnight because I always said nothing good happens after midnight. I would walk with the senior staff and just check on soldiers. Then we would have meetings and make sure everything was going OK.”

“We also had a deal that as long as the detainees weren’t doing anything to hurt our soldiers, then we would allow family visitation or even some soccer matches. The detainees would also get videos once a week. But, among our staff, we had zero tolerance for abuse. We were the first internment facility to have zero abuse allegations. I’m very proud of that fact.”

Garrity’s outstanding work in Iraq did not go unnoticed. She was twice awarded the Bronze Star and received the Legion of Merit before retiring from the Army Reserve with the rank of colonel. Back in Bradford County, she and her husband Dan Gizzi, married since 2005, kept busy with water skiing, snowmobiling and running. But the desire to serve others was always an itch.

“As I was thinking about what to do, volunteer work and politics were two of my choices. I’ve always liked politics, so I called our state representative Tina Pickett, who I knew from my job in government affairs since my real passion is the industrial base and making sure that we keep jobs in the United States.”

Pickett recommended jumping into the race for Tom Marino’s U.S. Congressional seat after his resignation. “The next day she had me lined up with a political consultant, and they pushed me right into the deep end.” Despite 31 candidates in the race, Stacy finished a respectable sixth. That showing led the state GOP leadership to reach out to her in late 2019 to gauge her interest in running for statewide office.

“I started praying about it, and I thought, OK, Lord, if you want me to do this, then open the doors. And, he did, and then I still was pretty hesitant. When the GOP leadership said they couldn’t find anyone to run for treasurer, I decided, if not me, then who’s going to do it.”

Shortly after making the decision to run and receiving the state Republican Party’s endorsement to challenge incumbent Democrat Joe Torsella, the COVID-19 pandemic hit.

“Trying to campaign and raise money during a pandemic was hard. I had to go total grassroots with the odds stacked against me. A Republican had not defeated an incumbent Democrat since 1994. Many people told me ‘Stacy, you’re running a great campaign, but there’s no way you can beat this guy.’”

As Election Day grew closer and the polls showed a tight race, Torsella mounted an advertising blitz with a campaign chest of more than $2 million. But on election night, as results showed her in the lead, she was cautiously optimistic. A week later her opponent called to concede. She had pulled off a win no one had expected. “Joe was extremely gracious and very helpful in the transition. I’m sure it was tough for him because he was told there’s no way you’re going to lose to somebody from Bradford County who had never run before.”

At her swearing-in ceremony in January, Garrity did something most unusual. She offered Torsella an opportunity to deliver some remarks. “Joe rose above politics and helped ensure a smooth transition. As we say in the military, thanks for your service.”

In her inaugural address, Garrity touched upon several key points that have been a part of her life. “Service to others, be it in elected office or wearing the uniform of our country, is the highest calling.”

“Getting the job done in good faith and with honest effort is the watchword by which I promise to serve. I say we look ahead to a place of optimism and cooperation.”

Garrity says her goal for the office is to make transparency a top priority and put taxpayers first. “Putting those checks and balances in place is what I want to focus on so that we can make sure that we’re being a good steward of our taxpayers’ money. Taking transparency to the next level is something that I want to do, and then probably further enhancing the savings programs.”

Throughout her journey from rural Pennsylvania to the battlefields of Iraq and then through the rigors of a political campaign, Garrity has never forgotten her roots. Her advice to young girls and women is to remain true to your values.

“I’ve really tried to live my life with integrity, selfless service, honor, loyalty, and duty. If somebody like me from Bradford County, who grew up on the left side of middle-class, can put myself through college, join the military, then work in manufacturing and become the first female vice president in my company, deploy three times overseas, and retire a colonel, then anyone can do it.”

As for the next part of the Stacy Garrity journey, only one person knows for sure.

“People have already called me about running for other offices, and I’ve told them I campaigned on staying in the job for four years and want to be the best treasurer I can for the people of Pennsylvania. And then we’ll see what God has in store for me.”

Spoken like a true non-politician.

#BloomOnward #HuskyNation #WomensHistoryMonth #StateTreasurer #IraqWar #ArmyReserves #Army #MilitaryFriendly #BUClass1986 #FirstGeneration #FirstGen #business #finance #accounting

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newstechreviews · 4 years

Link

Rising 34 stories above Bangkok’s Phetchaburi Road, the Thai Summit Tower is the headquarters of Thailand’s largest car parts manufacturer. Until recently, it was also home to an upstart political party headed by the company’s 41-year-old heir, Thanathorn Juangroongruangkit. On the fifth floor, he and the fresh-faced activists of the Future Forward Party (FFP) would hold boisterous press conferences and hushed policy meetings. They gained 17% of the vote in last year’s general election despite being barely a year old.

That remarkable showing should have thrust 81 FFP lawmakers into Thailand’s 750-seat National Assembly. But the political establishment struck back. First, Thanathorn was banned from politics over shares he allegedly held in a media company. (Thai law says electoral candidates cannot hold such shares; Thanathorn insists they had been transferred to his mother.) Then, on Feb. 21, the party was dissolved over alleged funding irregularities. The legal action was described as “politically motivated” by Human Rights Watch. With it, the political will of 6.3 million voters was snuffed out.

Sitting down with TIME in the week before that decision, Thanathorn was sanguine. Over the past two decades, populist governments in Thailand have been removed from power twice by the military and three times by the courts. The FFP may have been a long way from Government House but the power nexus centered around the palace, the courts and the military was evidently spooked.

“The Future Forward Party is a vehicle, but even if they dissolve us, we will continue the journey,” shrugged Thanathorn at the time. “This year, I’m sure, with me leading, or otherwise, we’ll return to public demonstrations.”

That’s to be expected. In the parlance of travel marketing, Thailand has long been sold as the Land of Smiles, but it could just as fairly be called the Land of Protests or Country of Coups. The Southeast Asian nation of 70 million has gone through seven attempted and 12 successful coups over the past century, while recent years have been punctuated by color-coded street protests aimed at paralyzing the sprawling capital. (Urban and southern royalists typically don yellow; rural voters from populous, rice-growing northern provinces wear red.)

Today, people are taking to the street once again. Clad in face masks, and flashing the three-fingered Hunger Games salute to the sound of Thai rap, thousands of protesters have thronged the capital over recent months, demanding political reform of a military-backed government seen as bungling and corrupt. While political grievances have festered for decades, “the FFP dissolution was the last straw,” says Thitinan Pongsudhirak, associate professor of political science at Bangkok’s Chulalongkorn University.

In terms of numbers, these are the biggest demonstrations since those preceding the 2014 coup d’état. In their ambition, however, they are unprecedented. Protesters have drawn up a 10-point manifesto that includes reform of the sacrosanct royal family and an overhaul of political institutions including a new constitution and elections. Coup leader General Prayuth Chan-ocha—now serving as prime minister, largely owing to a new constitution dictated by the military—warned last month that the protesters “really went too far.”

University and high school students are in the vanguard. Thitinan hasn’t seen anything like it in 27 years of academia. “The students feel empowered, they are wide awake, pay more attention, nobody’s falling asleep in class,” he says. “It’s astonishing for me, personally, as a teacher.”

Young Thais are also being galvanized by the pandemic, given the damage to Thailand’s tourism-reliant economy, which is forecast to shrink by 8-10% this year—the sharpest contraction in Southeast Asia. Coronavirus’ role in stoking the protests has “been huge, as people don’t see a future,” Thanathorn says. “The anger is there. It’s waiting to burst.”

Soe Zeya—Reuters Thanathorn Juangroongruangkit of Thailand’s progressive Future Forward Party gestures to his supporters at a rally in Bangkok, Thailand on Dec. 14, 2019.

‘It’s divide and conquer’

Instability in Thailand matters. It is America’s oldest ally in Asia and has served as a bulwark to more authoritarian, left-leaning neighbors ever since the Thai establishment, backed by Washington, constructed a national identity and cult of personality around Massachusetts-born King Bhumibol Adulyadej. During the 60s and 70s, huge posters of Bhumibol, paid for by American taxpayers, were distributed across the country to help win over hearts and minds in the face of a communist insurgency. But as the Cold War thawed, Bhumibol’s influence faded along with his health. By the time of his death in 2016, he remained an object of veneration for ordinary Thais but his role had morphed from a guarantor of political stability to underwriter of enormous wealth for courtiers and brass hats.

The latter still grip the levers of power. In the diplomatic vacuum left by the isolationist America First policy of President Trump, the junta has pushed Thailand towards China. Bangkok and Beijing have inked joint development projects and arms purchases, and the Thais have repatriated Chinese dissidents with scant regard to due process.

“As Washington condemned the [2014] coup and the junta cracked down on dissent, Beijing sidled up with infrastructure funding deals and promises of no-strings support,” says Sebastian Strangio, author of In the Dragon’s Shadow: Southeast Asia in the Chinese Century.

Meanwhile the relationship between palace and army continues to be extremely close (Thai historian Thak Chaloemtiarana calls it “despotic paternalism”) and the stock justification for every military intervention remains “protection of the monarchy.” Thanathorn is not alone when he says the generals are responsible for Thailand’s cycle of protests and coups.

“We have enough evidence to show that a military-sponsored information operation installs hatred into society,” he says. “It’s divide and conquer.”

The military is getting richer in the process, controlling golf courses, horse-racing tracks and muay Thai stadiums. It owns hotel chains, conference centers, free trade zones and even TV and radio stations. In parliament, the 81 senators who are also generals have an average wealth of 78 million baht ($2.5 million) each, but 40 years of a general’s official earnings amounts to 48 million baht ($1.5 million)—and that’s assuming not a satang (or penny) is spent. According to legislative documents obtained by the FFP, Thailand’s military had off-budget spending of 18 billion baht ($580,000,000) last year.

“It’s a state within a state,” says Thanathorn. “Even MPs cannot see through their budgets, cannot audit income [and] expenses. Imagine if we used this money for schools and hospitals.”

On Feb. 8 and 9, the venality turned deadly. In Korat, a city 180 miles northeast of Bangkok, a soldier went on a killing spree that claimed 29 lives and wounded 58 others. The deadliest mass shooting in Thailand’s history began with the 31-year-old perpetrator slaying a superior officer, as well as the officer’s mother-in-law, whom he accused of cheating him in a lucrative land deal. He was eventually cornered in a shopping mall and killed. “Rich from cheating and taking advantage of people” he posted online during the rampage. “Do they think they can take money to spend in hell?”

In the wake of national mourning, reforms were promised. Still, in a tearful address, Thailand’s top general, Apirat Kongsompong, referred to the military as a “sacred” institution.

“What the hell? It’s a freaking army,” says Tony Davis, a Bangkok-based security analyst for IHS-Janes. “Every country needs one but do your job properly instead of floundering around in business activities.”

For Thanathorn, Korat offered “the best opportunity in 100 years” to push for reform. “We should not let those families suffer for nothing.”

Mladen Antonov—AFP/Getty Images A Bangkok inscription on a sky train bridge is seen through the hole of a banner during a commemoration of the anniversary of the 1932 revolution which ended absolute monarchy with heavily symbolic events in Bangkok on June 24, 2020, demanding reforms to a political system dominated by the arch-royalist army.

‘He’s pressing all the buttons’

Despite his considerable wealth, Thanathorn has long been an iconoclast. His uncle served as minister of transport between 2002 and 2005 and is now a senior figure in Thailand’s biggest pro-military party, but Thanathorn insists his family were always outsiders. His grandfather emigrated to Thailand from southern China’s Fujian province in the early 20th century. In 1977, Thanathorn’s father started Thai Summit, and he says he grew up in a middle-class household, walking or taking the bus to class like his peers. It wasn’t until high school that the family firm started booming on the strength of lucrative contracts with Japanese auto firms, beginning its transformation into an empire with $2.5 billion in annual revenue.

“That’s when I could see the gap between me and my friends,” Thanathorn says.

It’s also when Thailand’s glass ceiling became apparent. “When we began having wealth, my parents wanted to be recognized, to be one of the elite,” he says. “They tried to donate, to mingle with politicians and people in power. But we learned no matter how much we tried, we cannot be one of them, because we are new rich. So my parents stopped trying.”

But they refused to spoil the princeling. From the age of ten, Thanathorn was sent during school holidays to toil in restaurants, washing dishes and scrubbing floors. At a hotel, he lugged bags and cleaned rooms. He loaded pallets of goods onto sooty trucks at a warehouse.

“I wasn’t very happy about it at the time,” he laughs, “but I learned the gap between rich and poor. But back then, I didn’t think that it was structural. I didn’t know whether this gap was about opportunities or individual performance.”

It was while studying mechanical engineering at Bangkok’s Thammasat University that he had an awakening. “In my second year, I went to a slum in Bangkok for the first time,” he says, “My thinking changed drastically because I saw the social struggle.”

Thanathorn became a student activist for progressive causes, campaigning for issues like compensation for those evicted to make way for state development projects. Then he studied at Nottingham University in the U.K., where he became involved with the student branch of the far-left Socialist Workers Party. “I learned the way they mobilize, the way they organize,” he says. Afterward, a joint masters in global finance between Hong Kong University and NYU beckoned.

For Thanathorn, those studies laid bare the realities of Thailand’s kleptocratic economy. Minimal property taxes mean the rich can sit on huge assets, while many sectors are sealed off from competition. For example, craft breweries have sprung up across the world to cater for a new generation of beer fans. In Thailand, however, selling small-batch brew is banned under a decades-old law that shields two huge family-run corporations, which monopolize 90% of a $5.7-billion market. And while in most countries, several duty-free concessions are assigned for commercial airports—Seoul’s Incheon International Airport has a dozen—in Thailand, one firm with close government ties has been awarded the sole concession to Bangkok’s main airports for over two decades without formal bids, creating a multi-billion-dollar family empire from scratch. In Thailand, “you create billionaires within one generation without innovation or anything,” says Thanathorn.

After completing his studies, Thanathorn had plans to pursue a career in international development with the U.N. But following his father’s death from cancer in 2002, he returned to Thailand to assume leadership of Thai Summit at just 23, helming it for 17 years until he founded the FFP.

His political style wasn’t without detractors. Many disagreed with Thanathorn’s abrasive tactics, such as his public shaming of senior establishment figures—not done under Thailand’s strict social codes.

“He’s pressing all the buttons that are guaranteed to rile [the elite] instead of framing the problem in a manner which they cannot dispute,” says Davis.

Even those who have built a career out of needling the establishment harbor doubts. The political artist Headache Stencil—dubbed “Thailand’s Banksy,” says “Thanathorn is more like a revolutionary than a political leader … But he can shepherd the transition to someone else who is calmer and more suited to lead.”

But large numbers of voters were won over by the self-styled “billionaire commoner” with the sharp, handsome features and boy-band spiky hair. According to a late 2019 poll by the National Institute of Development Administration, 31% of respondents tabbed Thanathorn as best qualified to be prime minister, with Prayut named by just 23%.

Jonas Gratzer—LightRocket/Getty Images Protesters perform a ‘Hunger Games’ three finger salute during anti-government demonstration in Bangkok on Aug. 16, 2020.

‘Thailand’s inconvenient truth’

Father to four young children, Thanathorn professes a love of reading everything from Khaled Hosseini to Game of Thrones. “I preferred the books to the TV series,” he says.

There is certainly no end of palace intrigue in Thailand. After a string of scandals—and with his lavish, eccentric lifestyle—King Maha Vajiralongkorn, Bhumibol’s son, has failed to command the same respect as his father. The four-times married, former Air Force pilot once promoted his pet poodle, Fu-Fu, to the rank of Air Chief Marshall. Since ascending the throne, he’s consolidated power while spending much of his time overseas. In 2017, the King introduced a new salute and haircut for the armed forces to match those of his own bodyguards. That same year, a 1936 law was amended to give him full control of the Crown Property Bureau, which manages the palace’s estimated $30 billion fortune. Last October, he ordered the transfer of two prestigious army units to his direct command, making them an effective “praetorian guard,” says Davis.

On Sept. 2, reports emerged that the King’s former consort, Sineenat Wongvajirapakdi—who last year was arrested, stripped of all royal titles and had her family home demolished for disloyalty—was suddenly deemed “untainted” and had her privileges restored. The hashtags #FreeOfBlemish and #ReformTheMonarchy were top trends on Twitter in Thailand after the news broke.

“The King’s treatment of Sineenat as a possession, put away and taken out at his will, is one of many reasons why protesters in Thailand have broached the taboo topic of the monarchy,” says Tamara Loos, professor of history and Thai studies at Cornell University.

That such lurid plots play out against the backdrop of Thailand’s worst economic crisis since 1997 incenses young Thais. Unbound by the same existential fear of creeping communism as their parents and grandparents, today’s youth demand a more equitable society. But the Thai monarch is protected by what are considered the world’s harshest royal defamation laws—known as lèse majesté or Section 112—that carry a penalty of 15 years in prison, and which have increasingly been used to quash dissent.

On June 4, a Thai democracy activist, Wanchalearm Satsaksit, was kidnapped in Cambodia and is believed murdered. He was on a government list of 29 exiled activists accused of violating Section 112, of whom at least eight have disappeared or been discovered dead. The situation inside Thailand is also deteriorating. On 9 July, a man from Thailand’s northeast was thrown into a psychiatric hospital for wearing a shirt emblazoned with, “I’ve lost faith in the institution of the monarchy.” One protest leader, human rights lawyer Anon Nampa, who has been outspoken in calling for royal reform, has been arrested three times in recent weeks and charged with sedition. “Thailand’s inconvenient truth” is how Thanathorn describes co-option of the royal institution.

“Let me be clear about this: reforming the monarchy does not equal abolishing the monarchy,’ he says. “It’s the powers and goals of the monarchy that don’t suit the principle of democracy that have to be changed.”

Thanathorn says he and the current protesters “share the same ideas about the future of the country” but have chosen different paths—within the system and outside it. His ban from politics means he cannot stand for election, though a loophole has seen him appointed by sympathetic lawmakers to a budget scrutiny committee, which has already trimmed $1 billion from the books, including the cancellation of two Chinese-built submarines for the military. Thanathorn has also broken a taboo by openly questioning the royal budget.

It’s a risky strategy. The government still holds all the cards, including the backing of the parliament, military, palace and judiciary. Thanathorn has already been charged with seeking to abolish the monarchy and sedition, though was acquitted on both counts. Other than disappeared and caged activists, in recent years two anti-establishment Thai prime ministers have been forced into exile and convicted in absentia on charges they claim were politically motivated. Thanathorn insists he won’t flee his homeland even if it means jail—or worse.

“So be it, I’m not afraid,” he says. “If I don’t do this, I don’t see anyone else doing it.”

#Blogger

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tinymixtapes · 6 years

Text

Interview: High aura’d

When you listen to any of John Kolodij’s releases under the High aura’d moniker, American Primitive mixes with scorched blues rippers, subtle drone freakouts, and dark ambient excursions. For fans both old and new, Kolodij’s latest LP, and first for Seattle’s Debacle, No River Long Enough Doesn’t Contain a Bend, is as accomplished a record as he’s ever released. Save for the final track, featuring Angel Olsen’s vocals, No River is an understated showcase of Kolodij’s acoustic and electric guitar instrumentals, coupled with adventurous experimental song-scapes. In the run-up to the release of No River, John and I emailed back and forth from his current home base of Ohio, discussing the history of the project, his work as a chef, and how his home state’s natural beauty inspired the new record. --- I want to focus primarily on the here and now of the High aura’d project, but tell me a little bit about yourself, and how the project came into existence? I’m 44 years old. I grew up in Trumansburg, NY, right outside of Ithaca. The Finger Lakes — what people toss off as Upstate. I’m married to a wonderful, creative woman, who is also the mother of our three girls. High aura’d began as a duo, but then quickly became a solo path. I had always been in bands, and still clung to the idea that I needed someone to bounce ideas off, and fill space with. Due to an imminent tour with Barn Owl, and some new technology, I quickly fleshed out my ideas and was able to get the density of sound I wanted by myself. Listeners have the High aura’d discography to sink their teeth into, but what is your view on the evolution of the project? Any releases that would have surprised you when you first started? It’s purely an evolution. My earliest work was more meditative in conception, and I’ve been feeling a need to reclaim that, but again, it all represents who I am, and was at that time. That day. I don’t think I’m surprised by anything I’ve recorded. I’m truly grateful some people enjoy listening to my work, and I always will be. I’ve been very lucky to work with some fine people and have their support and encouragement. Finally hearing it on vinyl was the kicker… It has this warmth that I was always hoping to hear; and the art, which is photography of mine, but treated by Kevin Gan Yuen and incorporating the work of William Cody Watson; it’s a beautiful, singular package that I hope will make people want to own it. In a 2015 interview with Decoder, your previous collaborator Mike Shiflet mentioned that you were a chef. I would love to hear more about it. Are you still a chef, and what kind of foods were/are you specializing in? I was a professional cook. Chefs are owners. This all comes from the military system of rank. Chef being “chief.” I did not attend a cooking school, but I did unpaid stages for a chef in Boston where I was living, for a year on the weekends, and she offered me a job and I ran with it. I had just wanted to learn how to cook like someone’s great-grandmother, to intuitively know what to do and how to put ingredients together, to think seasonally, and cook from a whole food prospective. I’d always gone to farmers markets as a child, and we had a decent vegetable patch at our house. I’ve always been into Japanese and Vietnamese cooking — all of the places I cooked were New American (minus one very high end Italian place, which was trying to push that envelope) — local-sustainable, worked with local farmers and purveyors to raise and butcher or source as much as possible. We also had the flexibility to incorporate new techniques and ideas. But now, I have four clients, and I try to keep that as happy as possible. I still aim to cook like an elder would, just maybe one from Hokkaido, or a Buddhist temple cook. I try and stay up to date as possible regarding what’s going on in food trends, and I’ve got my various noodle soups locked down. My pho is pretty on-point. When you say, “to intuitively know what to do and how to put ingredients together,” I can’t help but think of music, composition, and songwriting. Do you see any connections between the way you approach cooking and music? In as much as they are, or should be creative crafts, yes. I’m often drawn toward minimal ingredients presented in their finest way; Pickled mackerel, a foraged mushroom. A tomato in late summer, with fresh basil that grew next to it, dressed in great olive oil. I only eat tomatoes when in season. I hate the false flavor a hot house tomato brings. I listen to tons of dub in the summertime, drink more tequila then as well. Are these linked? Your music, especially the new album, combines established sounds of blues and Americana with drone, noise, and other modern flourishes. Blues and roots music is associated with travel, migration, and movement. With a recent move from Rhode Island to Ohio, how did you approach your songcraft with your lived experience of migration? I think unless you’re trying to push your art in an unnatural direction, it’s always a reflection of the sum of your experience up until that point. I’ve moved around a good deal; Ithaca, NY, to Providence, Rhode Island; Brooklyn, NY, and Boston for a dozen years; Narragansett, Rhode Island, for two years, and now right outside Cleveland, Ohio, going on three years. I’ve been in bands since I was 13, my first being a ridiculous thrash-metal band. My next bigger band was super shoegaze, and then next was a slowcore-/country-influenced quartet with a cellist [ed. note: The Pines of Rome]. I feel like all that is in me at anytime. A lot of this record is done with acoustic guitars at the core, but there’s still oversaturated electric guitars, pedal steel, piano, and even acoustic drums, so it’s just me. I don’t feel I honestly consider fans’ expectations, or part of a musical tradition. I just try and hone in on whatever interests me in my work and dig out and polish what I like and present the truest version I’m able to. No River contains traces of both classic tropes of Americana, but mixed with modern drone and ambient composition. How do you balance carrying on the traditions associated with acoustic and blues guitar, while finding new ways to push the boundaries of fans’ expectations? Robert Johnson was probably my first guitar crush, from probably the most embarrassing point of entry, the 1986 Ralph Macchio vehicle, Crossroads, which featured sweet shredder Steve Vai as well. America was in love with hair metal, but I got this Robert Johnson boxset for Christmas, and I was hooked. I’ve always dug Bukka White, Blind Willie Johnson, John Lee Hooker…and this eventually led me to John Fahey, which led me to Gastr Del Sol, and then to Loren Mazzacane Connors and Keiji Haino which led me… all without The Interent! But on a parallel line, Sonic Youth led me to Bill Frisell, Bad Brains led me to Scientist, Led Zeppelin led me to Annie Briggs and Fairport Convention, King Crimson led to Fripp & Eno, Coltrane led me to Alice Coltrane and beyond… I don’t feel I honestly consider fans’ expectations, or part of a musical tradition. I just try and hone in on whatever interests me in my work and dig out and polish what I like and present the truest version I’m able to. Debacle wrote that you “dove into discovering the old forest and rivers of Steelhead Alley” after your move to Ohio. Did you find that exploring the surrounding natural area spilled over into your songwriting? I’d hope it has. Cleveland has the worst reputation nationally, and it’s completely undeserved. The people (as much as they are human, which is to say, as much as any other place) are open minded and kind. The natural wonders around here are spectacular. The forests are grand, the rivers wondrous, and the sky is intense. I’ve become an avid fly fisher, catch and release, and it’s truly amazing being out in the middle of a river and only hearing & sensing the natural world. I often try, when working on a piece to envision myself, somewhere else: in a desert, at the edge of an ocean, nighttime in Sonoma, crossing a footbridge in Miami, wherever feels evocative, and then trying to score that moment. I’ve been in love with cinema forever, and I just try and score everyday life. A lot of cinemas host screenings with live or newly composed scores. Have you had your eye on a film you feel you could do justice with your sounds? I love snowy films. John Carpenter’s The Thing, Paul Schrader’s Affliction, even Tarantino’s The Hateful 8, The Revenant, Fargo, A Simple Plan, The Shining… So perhaps something like that? Most of those are rather perfect as they are. I have performed quite often to films others have made for me, often over-saturated color rich impressionistic pieces. I love doing that. When you lived in Rhode Island, were you playing live often? Was there a venue or scene you were associated with? Have you established a new musical space or community in Ohio? I did play often, perhaps more in Boston at first, but I got out at least every 2 months on average. I played at Machines With Magnets quite a bit, bringing some shows there. I played a bunch with Work/Death (Scott Reber is simply the best). If you’re asking if I was down with Fort Thunder, I was down with Fort Thunder in real time. As far as Ohio, I’ve been playing out less, much of last year, as High aura’d because I wanted to focus on freeing my guitar playing up, and trying to expel learned or histrionic playing — I wanted to get free. There’s a wonderful music scene here with multiple layers and venues. I’ve been playing with some more improv/free people, which is well represented here by New Ghosts and venues like The Bop Stop and Dan Wenninger’s monthly nights. There’s the classic experimental people like John Elliot, Prostitutes, Machine Listener, Chromesthic, Talons, & Trouble Books. And great suppostive record shops/distros like Bent Crayon, Hausfrau Records, and Experimedia. As a listener, it’s fitting to dive into No River Long Enough Doesn’t Contain a Bend as fall kicks into high gear. Do you have ideal conditions or times of day well suited to working on and recording new High aura’d material? I like to try and work on music as early in the day as possible — my mind is as uncluttered as it’s going to be at that point. I do also enjoy relaxing, later at night, and watching really slow movies with grand cinematography and just free associating on an acoustic guitar. I often try, when working on a piece to envision myself, somewhere else: in a desert, at the edge of an ocean, nighttime in Sonoma, crossing a footbridge in Miami, wherever feels evocative, and then trying to score that moment. I’ve been in love with cinema forever and I just try and score everyday life. Is most of the material on No River based off of improvisation? How long did you spend on this project? If you mean recorded improvisation that became a song, 3 songs on this would qualify. Most others were worked on, over the course of 2-3 years. The move to Ohio, slowed me a bit, not that I’m swift to begin with. Finally hearing it on vinyl was the kicker. Helge Sten, who’s work at Deathprod and is a member of Supersilent, mastered the LP, and he just added this magic sheen. It has this warmth that I was always hoping to hear; and the art, which is photography of mine, but treated by Kevin Gan Yuen and incorporating the work of William Cody Watson; it’s a beautiful, singular package that I hope will make people want to own it, and not just download. Music was meant for more than laptop speakers. I’ve seen how other writers, labels, and musicians play drone and noise music for their kids, whether as a way to help put them to bed, or just to see how they react to it. How do your children respond to your work? It’s always strange to think of what our parents do as “cool,” but I imagine hearing some blaring guitar and drones growing up can make quite the impression on a kid. When our first child would need some help falling asleep, say while we were out doing something, and they were tired, but no quite there yet, we’d put on Tim Hecker’s album Harmony in Ultraviolet, specifically “Chimeras.” It would always do the trick. Plus it’s like another favorite, Aphex Twin’s “Stone In Focus,” it just has this glorious decaying motif. They love music, and they’ve all just recently started playing instruments they chose: ukulele, viola, and guitar. We never forced anything on them, they just have always had access. I’m sure to one degree they think my work is strange, but they also are keenly aware of all the spooky music in television and films. And they mostly think it’s too loud. My kids were more responsive to the band my wife and I had together, a fuzz/pop band called WORKING. They love pop music, and we listen to a bunch of that constantly, but I listen to a lot of hip-hop and soul, and they humor me there. Also, spare bits of metal. I think everyone enjoys spacing out on Arvo Part or Ryuichi Sakamoto, no? I know they enjoy it to some degree. My eldest daughter’s favorite record for a while was John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, so I did something right. How did No River find its home on Debacle? Sam [Melancon, Debacle’s founder] has wide ranging tastes, but there are several records in the catalog (Hayden Pedigo, Elkhorn, Daniel Bachman) that, like you, take American Primitive and blues outside the box. Where do you see your place within the label and its ability to document varying scenes and movements within underground, D.I.Y. communities? I’ve long admired Debacle’s streak of representing what they like and giving at a physical manifestation. Their varied tastes are easily viewed, from records by my old friends Kevin Gan Yuen, Golden Retriever, and Daniel Bachmann, to Total Life, and Chambers, which features Gabriel Saloman of Yellow Swans. [It] reminds me in all the best ways of my former label Bathetic, who purely pushed what they dug, simply. With the record’s impending release, do you plan to tour? What’s next for you and High aura’d? I don’t plan on touring, but I do plan on getting out, radially, from here. I’d like to hit Chicago and play with some friends along the way. As far as what’s next, I have some great collaborations finished, looking for homes, one with Matt Christensen of Zelienople, and a brewing LP2 with Mike Shiflet. I may retire the High aura’d moniker, or keep it strictly for more sound/drone recordings. I hope to start work on a new collection soon. I feel like this year has had numerous wonderful records released and this is a glorious time for new music. I’d like to collaborate sincerely and seriously more in the coming year, and keep growing. And to do so freely. http://j.mp/2hWpQES

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theliberaltony · 5 years

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to Political Confessional, a column about the views that Americans are scared to share with their friends and neighbors. In an increasingly polarized political climate, adherence to party or ideological orthodoxy on the issues of the day seems de rigueur. Social media serves only to amplify that perception at times. But Americans’ political views are often idiosyncratic and sometimes offensive, and they rarely adhere neatly to any particular party line. In this column, we want to dig into Americans’ messy opinions on politics, morality and social mores. We hope that this exercise gives readers a glimpse into the minds of those with whom they might disagree — or agree! If you have a political belief that you’re willing to share with us, fill out this form — we might get in touch.

This week we talked to Chris, a 40 year old white man from Tennessee who works as a higher education administrator. Chris wrote, “I believe the United States should implement mandatory military service for all young men and women. Many people believe the end of conscription was a great accomplishment in this country. The people around me (mostly left leaning) think this is an inherently hawkish position that makes war more likely.”

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Clare Malone: So, how did you come to this view?

Chris: I have not served in the military. When I graduated from college in 2000 the world was at peace, the economy was booming, and we had won the Cold War. I did have a sense of civic responsibility and wanted to give back somehow so I was in Teach For America. It’s shocking to say “reinstate the draft!” But what I’m thinking more broadly about is some kind of obligatory national service. I think for a lot of people it would be the military.

I just finished my doctorate of education, and I was in a social context class and our professor — who is the stereotypical liberal sociology professor — was talking about all the important things that schools do to build the social capital of our society, to teach citizenship and blah, blah, blah. And I just realized that that’s a load of crap — that they just don’t do that anymore. I thought about, “Where is it that I do see that common vision of who we are as Americans and what our community is supposed to be like?” Because that’s a huge problem we’re facing right now. And I thought about the old men that used to go to the prayer breakfast at my first church and they had all been in World War II. And a lot of them said, “I wouldn’t have known how to peel a potato if I hadn’t been in the army; I wouldn’t have known how to iron; I wouldn’t have ever met so-and-so from the North because I’m from the South.”

So I said something in that class and I got on that professor’s bad side. I said something like, “What if we had the draft again?” and she shot daggers at me. It came from thinking about the role of education in particular, just given my career trajectory, in shaping our civic and social life and the way that we are really not doing that very well.

CM: Where do you think education is falling down on building that social capital stuff?

Chris: I think the performance of public schools, particularly in urban and rural settings is an example. The public schools in the United States are underperforming, in part because of white flight. I think the proliferation of private education and, in particular, Christian private education, really seems to be catering to a white middle class. Then charter schools are pulling some of the parents and kids who are really interested in good public schools out of public schools.

CM: You think the problem is children aren’t being integrated with people who aren’t like them?

Chris: I think that’s one thing. I think failing public schools are also about how we’re so desperately trying to keep our heads above water that any sense of civic responsibility takes a back burner. And maybe I’ve seen too many World War II movies where the platoon pulls together, but I do think that’s a huge part of it, getting people together.

CM: Let’s talk nitty gritty. Are you imagining something like bringing back the draft or are you looking at something more like Israel’s compulsory service?

Chris: Israel does this really well, based on what I’ve seen when I’ve traveled. Not everybody is going to be willing to go into the military. When you get to the policy level, you really have to create exceptions and opportunities.

In World War II you got rejected if you had any physical disability at all — well, you want those people to be a part of the civic fabric, so how do you create opportunities where those people can be engaged? The military is the quick and dirty way, and the path that a lot of people would take. Programs like Teach For America, City Year — I think there are a lot of different ways it could look on the ground. I know there would be conscientious objectors who wouldn’t want to do military service, so you would need to create opportunities for those folks to step into a classroom and experience that.

CM: I want to drill down a little into the values that you think the military instills specifically.

Chris: As a higher education person, I think a lot about how we’re teaching values and what are the values we want to teach and are they helping us to create a cohesive community. I think we talk the language of citizenship a lot, but we don’t have any sense of the flip side of that — the obligation and responsibility that comes with rights and freedoms. I think Robert Putnam put his finger on something in “Bowling Alone”; the Rotary Club and the bowling league and the garden club, all those things are declining and having a sense of connectedness in your community is becoming more difficult. And teaching that connection to community is important. That active and engaged sense of community is important.

I also work with college kids, and I was a college kid. And I know college kids are dumb sometimes; they make bad and immature choices sometimes. An example would be in “Hillbilly Elegy”; the author talked about how valuable the Marines were in helping him mature and focus and get on a path with some particular life skills that he wouldn’t have had otherwise. My family could have been in “Hillbilly Elegy” — my mother’s brothers all were on the path to juvenile delinquency in their teen years and joined the military and it gave them a sense of discipline and purpose and I don’t know how they would have developed it otherwise because they grew up in a chaotic home with an alcoholic and absent father.

CM: Are you thinking at all about how this policy would affect the nation’s likelihood of going to war? Or does that not factor in?

Chris: I think that’s huge. Right after the Iraq War started I think Charlie Rangel was the one who was beating this drum [to reinstate the draft]. He’s part of the generation that was shaped by the experiences of World War II. There’s a lot of class things that comes into this too. My dad was a middle class white kid, was in the National Guard and did his active duty at Fort Sill in the artillery. He trained forward observers to go to Vietnam, and he said invariably that they were black and poor and were going into the most dangerous job in the artillery in Vietnam. And I think he came away with a pretty bad taste in his mouth.

I do think that this kind of broad net that brings a lot of America’s young people into military and national service would lead our policy deciders to be more judicious in their use of the military. Tim Kaine and Jim Webb have talked about their experience of having to make policy decisions on the use of the military and having children who are serving. And down the road, people will have served who are moving into Congress and policy roles at the Department of Defense and things like that. I think it would make for more judicious use of the military and engage more people in that debate.

CM: Lots of people have family or know people who served in Vietnam who were quite scarred by it. We now know PTSD is a huge problem among veterans. Do you think there could be unintentional but very real bad effects if we put more people into combat situations?

Chris: I do think there would be some very real consequences, but people experience PTSD living in America’s inner cities. And they experience depression and anxiety dealing with the fact that their family farm of five generations is failing around them. There are always consequences for the choices that we make and this is not a thing you slip past people — this is a big conversation.

CM: Do you worry that in your hypothetical military/national service plan, the same sort of class and race stratification would happen that we currently see in the military?

Chris: Maybe. I would hope that we as a society — well, I hoped until 2016 and maybe I’m wrong — that we are more aware of those dynamics as a society and could build into the policy mechanisms to make sure there’s accountability.

CM: Have you talked about this outside of that class where you got that bad reaction?

Chris: Not really. It’s interesting, I remember on the morning of Sept. 11th I was teaching and the school was right by the airport, and when I went by the airport there were humvees lined up along the road and people with machine guns were standing on the roof of the airport. I remember thinking, “I’m going to get drafted.” I was 23. It was terrifying. But it was something I would have been willing to do. Because that’s what I think it means to be an American.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Clare Malone

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