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Life and Death
The world is brighter than I can remember; I can almost feel the life that the sun is giving the world. I wonder what can I possibly offer such a breathtaking world that my eyes feast upon?
I close the curtains and stare back at the quiet Lucas, his eyes never remove themselves from my silhouette that is now covered in shadow from me closing the curtains. His ravishing eyes reveal nothing as I think my thoughts, never once do I forget that he can hear me. He sits on my black desk chair that I had bought at a furnisher store last year. I remember the petty nature that I had shown when deciding whether one worth ten dollars more was really worth it. I had settled for the cheap one and occasionally suffered from a soar bottom. Karma strikes you in the weirdest ways. His legs are crossed and his hands, pale and immaculate, lie intertwined on his lap.
He is the simplest form of perfection.
Thank you, I hear the all-too familiar voice respond to my praise, but I am not anything compared to you.
I hold back my smirk as I insistently deny his compliment. I have always thought of myself as pretty, but hearing a compliment of sorts from a man like Lucas, well, that is just unheard of.
"So what are you--we--exactly?" I ask out loud, finding the bathroom right behind where Lucas sits uniquely intriguing.
"We are a rare species, there are a few of us out there, but much unlike fabled stories, we do not turn mortals into one of us if we do not find any sort of connection." He explains while I start to make my way to the bathroom, the idea of hot water entices me. "If I were not in love with you Carol Ann, then you would most likely be dead right now."
I find myself amused as I realize that he has used my entire name. "No one has called me that since--"
"Since your mother." He answers for me and I pause with my shirt half up over my head.
"How did you know that?"
"I am very perceptive." He answers simply, but his answer makes no sense. "But, on the topic we were speaking of, amongst the human race there are many diff--"
"No," I interrupt, "Tell me, what do you mean by being 'very perceptive'? What does that have to do with anything?"
"I have been watching you for many years Carol Ann," he does not face me, but I sense his tension in his thoughts. You were so young.
"What is my whole name and when was I born?" I ask, challenging his knowledge of me feeling more curiosity than anything else.
He does not turn his head to face me as he answers, knowingly, "Carol Ann Taylor, but it was changed to Carol Ann Williams when you were adopted at age eleven. You were born May fifth nineteen-eighty-two and from the moment that your parents uttered their last breaths you have felt nothing but loneliness."
I stand still, not because of how accurate his information of my life is, but because of how much I unknowingly love this mysterious man. "How do you know all of this?"
"I am perceptive, and you are my subject of interest."
I stand under the hot water now thinking of his words and I try to grasp at the idea that my life may be immensely different. I rub the soap bar up my arm and am unable to reach my back. Well, not everything has changed.
The shower curtain is suddenly shoved aside and Lucas appears in its place. Embarrassment has always been a large issue in my life, but Lucas feels so natural, like the other half of my life, of my being, that I do not feel frightened to show him my deepest secrets. He grabs the soap from its location and I casually stare back at him, my chin resting on my shoulder as he washes my back.
"Do you know," he begins, "That from the moment I saw you crying as a child, that my heart belonged to you?"
I stare at him, quiet, not answering and he continues, "What I have made you, it will not make life easier, but it will promise new difficulties. You have to promise me something Carol Ann."
Yes. I answer, my voice unneeded.
"Whatever you see, hear, or learn--promise me--you will never leave my side?" He says, taking extra precaution in washing above my bottom.
Always. I promise and let myself feel the comfort of love that is engulfing me for the first time.
I stand, dressed and ready to leave my apartment with Lucas for the first time as something new I am still trying to grasp. My purse, which I had dropped only seconds before, lay by my feet (the sound prompting Lucas to reach my side unnaturally fast).
In front of me, looking pale and ragged, stands my father. Not my adoptive father, no, but my biological, non-breathing father. Who died sixteen years ago.
"About that," Lucas says quickly noticing my look of terror, "We can see dead people too. Since our lives are a mixture of death and life, they can contact us, and I forgot to tell you: your parents have something they want you to know."

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Three years ago, Louis Franklin chose three sophomores to call up to his Tokay Tigers varsity football team.
Kelse DePauli-Wiltse, Travis Dart and Eric Stipe each admit to being nervous as underclassmen who made the jump back then. Three years later, they've forged a bond as friends and will play their final game together.


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Nokomis Travel Guide
Photos from NokomisPictures of Nokomis (55)
Hotel Deals in Nokomis
Hotels in NokomisNokomis Accommodations (3)
A Beach Retreat Nokomis
105 Casey Key Rd, Nokomis, United States
Palm Garden Beach and Tennis Estate Nokomis
424 Albee Rd W, Nokomis, United States
Addys Villas Nokomis
330 Tamiami Trl N, Nokomis, United States
Travel Blogs from NokomisNokomis Travel Blogs (7)
The Blogging challenge
... of the wind but the set of the sails that direct one's course". We set our sails towards this great little house in Nokomis, FL. No matter how hard the wind blew in the opposite direction, our sails were set and we kept the ...
just workin our way down to the keys
We spent 4 days here just to try out the campground and break up the drive to the keys. Also wanted to fish from the sunshine skyway bridge. Did a little fishing and wandered around the campground. was a very nice campground, well ...
Our new puppy, Katie
We've been staying in central west Florida since November 1st along the Gulf of Mexico Coast at an RV resort and, about 5 weeks ago, we started the process of buying a new puppy. Her name is Katie and she's a Havanese. She's 5 weeks old now and we'll ...
Our old blog location
We used blogger for this journey. You can find it here... http://stricksretirement.blogspot.com/ ...
Attractions in NokomisNokomis Attractions (3)
Just Ducky
1011 Tamiami Trl S, Nokomis, Florida, United States
Calusa Lakes Golf Club
Nokomis, Florida, United States
North Jetty Beach
, Casey Key Nokomis, Florida, United States
Jetties at the tip of this key make this an exciting beach for surfing.


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One Friend, Recently Unrequited Lover
One touch,
A moment later you were gone,
But your touch lingered on and on,
Till memory rolled like film,
Across each sane path of thought.
One thought,
I was adrift and helpless,
No bridge to help my resistance,
Alone in thought and memory,
Desire began to unfold.
One spark,
I could resist you,
Said 'No I think I'm through',
I can go on without hope of you,
And start my life as a friend to you.


text:
A worried mother had two agonising nights waiting for news of her former All Black son whom she feared had been caught up in Japan's deadly tsunami.
Susan Tuitavake, the mother to former All Black and Blues centre Anthony, now based in Japan, constantly checked her phone and her son's Facebook page for updates but there were none.
Mrs Tuitavake called the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade for any word and registered his details on Saturday night.
"I couldn't think right. I cried and I prayed but at the same time I put trust in the lord that he was safe."
Mrs Tuitavake was preparing for a service at the United Church of Tonga at Grey Lynn yesterday morning when her phone rang.
"It was Anthony, he said "hi mum, I'm in Rome"."
Anthony Tuitavake, in his second season with the NEC club in Chiba, left Japan for a brief holiday in Italy - the day before the earthquake struck.
"Maybe it was the lord who was looking after him all that time," said Mrs Tuitavake.
Meanwhile, another rugby mother breathed a sigh of relief when she got a call from her son, former All Black great John over the weekend.
Patricia Kirwan yesterday told the Herald from her Auckland home that she had spoken to her son, who as coach of the Japanese national side since 2007, makes a regular 18-hour commute from his home near Venice, Italy to Tokyo.
"But he's not in Japan," said Mrs Kirwan.
"He's in Italy. It really is a relief."
Mrs Kirwan said her son arrived at his home in Italy on Friday to the news that Japan had been devastated by an 8.9 magnitude earthquake.
Kirwan, 46, who played 63 tests on the wing for the All Blacks between 1984 and 1994, could not be contacted yesterday but his sister Judith Rippon said she called him immediately when news of the quake broke.
"He had only just realised what had happened because he had only just got back from the UK," said Ms Rippon.
"I don't know how he is but he just said he had called mum and had been trying to get hold of everybody in Tokyo. He really was quite concerned."
Ms Rippon said it was fortunate neither Kirwan or his teenage daughter, Francesca, who had been living in Japan in training for the Italian national volleyball team, were in Japan at the time of the quake.
"I know it's an awful thing to say but there was so much devastation. It's just appalling, probably they would have survived the quake but then there was the tsunami."
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade said yesterday that 828 New Zealanders were now registered with the Ministry as being in Japan.
As of yesterday there were no reports of New Zealand casualties as a result of the earthquake or tsunami.
A press statement said MFAT staff in Wellington and Japan were making on-going efforts to contact a small number of New Zealanders in the affected areas to determine their whereabouts and safety.
People who cannot contact loved ones in the northeast of Japan please are asked to contact the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade.
New Zealanders in Japan are asked to register their details on www.safetravel.govt.nz


text:
A/N: This story is the second full-length entry in the "Ame no Murakumo ga Miteru" series, which can best be described as "Chikane and Himeko's life after Kannazuki no Shimai is a slice-of-life story." The first story is called "Red String," and if you haven't read it already I'd suggest that you check that one out first!
Similarly to that story, because these are Japanese characters in a Japanese setting, I'm doing my best with using honorifics (mind you, Alice and Arrow both will omit them on the slightest pretext) and similar forms of address (I even ran a reader poll while "Red String" first went up, and you folks voted that I continue it). Please feel free to point out the inevitable places where I screw up completely!
This story is dedicated to my friend Fuyu no Sora, without whom you probably wouldn't be reading this. I actually began it back in 2010, not long after finishing "Red String," set it aside for a while, and did more in 2011. I shared the parts of the story I had done with my friends, and Sora in particular offered considerable commentary and review of various aspects of the plot and characters and small details that had slipped my mind over time but not escaped her attention. You know you're getting an in-depth review when the word count of the review exceeds that of the actual chapter! So one of the reasons I've been motivated to return to this story and finish it was a desire to let Sora find out how it ends, especially given how she's been so much help in piecing things together. ^_^
Sometimes, Himemiya Chikane decided, selfishness wasn't a bad course of action. In this case, for example, selfishness would have been to sneak off with her girlfriend, Kurusugawa Himeko, to their secret spot in the rose garden and spend lunchtime together with her, just the two of them. Preferably spending most of the time kissing and leaving most of lunch uneaten. If she had done that, they'd be there now. Instead, rather than give in to selfish desire, they were going to eat lunch with their friends and because of that when Chikane had gone to get her lunch basket, Himeko had been cornered alone by three of her fellow classmates.
"This is simply unacceptable, Kurusugawa-san!" shrilly exclaimed the leader of the three girls, her blonde drill-curls bouncing with her emotion. "A nobody like you, a new transfer student, dragging Miya-sama down with your perversions?"
"Miya-sama is the shining idol of our school!" chimed in a second girl, who had a brown braid and glasses.
"Do you think we'll stand for it? Miya-sama may be too kind to tell you the truth, but even if she takes pity on you, there are others who won't," snapped the third girl, who had green hair.
That was more than enough, Chikane decided. She stepped out from around the rack of vending machines and rapidly strode towards the three girls. Himeko caught sight of her approach and gestured, trying to wave her off.
Don't worry, love, Chikane thought. I'm not going to do anything crazy.
"Are you ignoring us, Kurusugawa-san? We're having an important conversation here!"
"It's not that, Kisaragi-san," Himeko replied nervously. A casual bystander might have assumed that it was the bullies making her nervous, but Chikane knew better. Himeko was no doubt recalling incidents of their two previous lives, incidents when Chikane had expressed her opinion of those who would threaten Himeko.
The green-haired girl, Misaki, turned her head to see what Himeko was looking at and had the experience of coming face-to-face with Chikane.
"M-M-M-Miya-sama!" she yelped. Because she was startled? Because she knows what she's doing is wrong and was ashamed to be caught at it? Chikane strongly doubted that one. Or perhaps my expression is not so controlled as I would like it to be.
"Good day, Ozawa-san," she said to the girl with deceptive mildness, then as the others turned, added, "Kisaragi-san, Mifune-san. I am deeply gratified to hear that I can place my romantic future in the hands of such diligent and generous matchmakers. Why, I find myself positively overwhelmed by your kindness. To think that you would do this for me, all without ever being asked, or indeed without us exchanging more than a word in passing, that is selflessness indeed. And to think, that without your gracious intervention I might have been led astray by the intensity of my own emotions, by the deep love I feel for Himeko, and, of course, the trust I foolishly placed in my parents' judgment in approving of a suitable girlfriend."
Continuing to advance on them, she withdrew an embossed envelope bearing the Himemiya family seal from her basket and extended it to Himeko.
"Speaking of my parents, Himeko, Okaasama wanted me to pass on her invitation to your family to join us for an informal dinner this Sunday."
Himeko took the envelope.
"Th-thank you, Chikane-chan." She still looked a little nervous, probably because she'd noticed that Chikane hadn't stopped advancing on the girls. Misaki and Kyoko had stepped aside, but Chikane kept on towards Otoha, making the blonde back up step by step until her back met the wall.
"A piece of friendly advice, Kisaragi-san," she said softly, her face but inches from her fangirl's. She let the mask drop, then, her expression reflecting exactly what she was feeling. "I would be careful on stairs if I were you. My experience has been that pushy, aggressive busybodies tend to be reckless in rushing about where they're not wanted and often have...accidents."
"Th-thank you, Miya-sama," Otoha stammered, unconsciously echoing Himeko.
"Do remember it." She forced the smile back in place. "As student council president, I would hate to see something happen to a classmate because I was remiss in properly advising them." She turned and extended a hand to her girlfriend. "Shall we go to lunch, Himeko?"
They walked off, leaving the three fangirls staring after them, still a little unsure of what had just happened.
Himeko, on the other hand, was sure and wasn't happy about it.
"You went too far, Chikane-chan."
"And yet, I feel like I didn't go far enough. How dare they cause trouble for you?"
"If you'd just left off with what you told them at first, that would have been fine," she chided. "You did a very nice job of shaming them, and even I noticed how you brought in your parents' names to provide extra evidence of how far they'd gotten out of line. You didn't need to threaten Kisaragi-san, too."
"They were my honest feelings," Chikane protested. "I'm not going to let you be bullied or pushed around."
"You threatened to kill her! And you meant it!"
"Not really," Chikane protested.
"Do you know what the word 'yandere' means, Chikane-chan?"
"Well, you never were a manga reader," Himeko noted. "It means someone who goes violently insane for the sake of love. They attack or even murder threats or love rivals..."
Chikane winced.
"..become jealously possessive, wanting nothing more than a world where only the two of them exist..."
Chikane winced again.
"...and sometimes even go so far as to kidnap or sexually assault their love interest if things aren't moving fast enough for their tastes!"
Chikane smacked her forehead with her empty palm and groaned. Himeko burst into giggles.
"Strangely, I find myself attracted to that type," she said, then leaned up and kissed Chikane on the cheek. "Come on, let's go to lunch. Arrow-chan is probably half-finished already!"
"Now, for the next edition, I'd like if we could do something of local interest. We have ideas for stories about the people at the academy, but what about the academy itself?"
Kisaragi Otoha was barely paying attention to the editor of the school newspaper, the Newspaper Club president. That was extremely out of character for her, given that she'd joined the club in the first place because Nanase Saya was the editor. Tall, elegant, beautiful, Saya had a lot in common with Himemiya Chikane. Indeed, she was the daughter of Mahoroba's second-wealthiest family, although the Nanase family didn't have the history of the Himemiyas or Ohgamis. Otoha's admiration for her had always been nearly as great as what she felt for Miya-sama. Her elegance, her serenity of manner, her poise, the slight angularity of her face giving it just enough character to be really beautiful instead of having cookie-cutter prettiness, her sleek figure with enough of a curve at breast and hip to be unmistakably womanly without the overripeness of the gravure models the boys would drool over...
Ah! No, stop it! Otoha protested to herself when she recognized where her thoughts were going. That isn't right! I'm not like that Kurusugawa girl, I'm not! She'd seen the looks the strawberry blonde gave Miya-sama, all but undressing her with her eyes. Miya-sama was everyone's ideal. It wasn't right to think about her that way, about kissing her, touching her—
And yet, Otoha found herself forced to admit, it wasn't just that Kurusugawa thought that way about Miya-sama, but that Miya-sama felt that way back! That she liked that sort of thing! To touch another girl, to hold her and kiss her, and maybe even...
She choked off her traitorous thoughts before they went too far in that direction. If Miya-sama wanted to lower herself to the level of a commoner, entering into a wholly inappropriate relationship, then didn't that just prove that she wasn't worthy of Otoha's devotion? Wasn't that it, what had her upset—the scales dropping from her eyes?
That was it, wasn't it?
At least staying away from Kurusugawa would be easy enough. She never wanted to see either of them again, let alone talk to them! It would be...would be...
It at last penetrated the frenzy of her thoughts that Saya was calling her name.
"Yes, Nanase-buchou?"
"What do you think about the story idea?"
Her voice brushed across Otoha like silk, commanding her attention. Despite being in a crowded room, it was as if only the two of them were present, in a private connection.
Otoha bit her lip nervously.
"I'm sorry, Nanase-buchou, but I let my attention wander. Could you repeat the idea?"
"It was suggested that, as a lighthearted piece of school interest, that we do an article on the 'Seven Mysteries of Ototachibana Academy,' with research into which ones are real and which might be urban legends, designed to fill out the list at seven." She didn't snap or get angry with Otoha's inattention, but there was a wistful disappointment in her voice that made the blonde feel ashamed, like she had just crushed a flower underfoot or torn up a piece of artwork.
"That could be fun," Otoha said. "I like the aspect of researching the backgrounds. Every time you hear about the mysteries of a school or other place, it's always seven, so it'd be interesting if people started making them up to fill out the list."
"Are you sure you weren't listening, Kisaragi-san?" asked the assistant editor, a third-year boy named Takara. "'Cause that's pretty much exactly what I said when I suggested it."
Otoha flushed hotly and more than one of the other club members laughed, but Saya wasn't among them.
"Now, Takara-san, that wasn't nice," she chided. Saya apparently had the same kind of effect on him as she did on Otoha, because he at once looked sheepish and ran his hand through his short, light-brown hair.
"Sorry, Kisaragi-san."
"No, it was my fault, Takara-sempai; I should have been more attentive to the meeting."
Saya smiled at them both.
"Now, it was decided last week that we would be working with a member of the Photography Club on one of this issue's stories, and I believe this one would be good. Taking photographs of the sites of the 'seven mysteries' could allow opportunities for artistic composition suited to the kind of work a club member works on doing. If you would invite them in?"
One of the girls opened the door, and karma rose up to smack Otoha in the face.
"My name is Kurusugawa Himeko. I'm pleased to be working with your club."
"Oh, man, you went and assigned the queen fangirl to work on a story with Himeko?" Ohgami Shizuka laughed.
"I didn't know whom it was the Photography Club had sent!" Saya protested.
The two friends were walking down the long staircase that led from Ototachibana Academy to the base of the hill. Shizuka was a tomboy through and through: tall, broad-shouldered, with short, unruly dark hair and a face that was more handsome than pretty. She played against stereotypes in multiple ways: she was the daughter of the priest of the Ohgami Shrine, and her nickname was Arrow because unlike all of her closest friends she was as straight as one.
"I didn't even know that Kurusugawa-san was in the Photography Club. Isn't she on the kendo team?"
"Oh, yeah, that's right; you had that family thing last weekend, when she asked about it. She really likes photography, and the rules say a person can belong to two clubs if they get approval from both. Since Himemiya's the kendo team captain that was one approval there, and the Photography Club president agreed right off, too, on Monday morning."
"I just feel so embarrassed. And what's worse is that I'd had to chastise Kisaragi-san just moments before, for being inattentive in the meeting, so I'm afraid she thinks that I did it to punish her. Plus, what about Kurusugawa-san? She'll be so hurt."
"Ah, relax. Himemiya knows you didn't mean a thing by it, and she'll explain it to Himeko. No, what you need to worry about is if Alice laughs so hard her spleen comes out her nose when she hears this story."
"Hey, somebody taking my name in vain?"
Arms clamped around Saya from behind as a short girl with a startling red ponytail glomped onto her. Saya yelped and swayed; Arrow stuck out her arm suddenly in case they were in danger of falling, but the new arrival had her body weight under control so that she actually steadied herself and Saya in mid-pounce.
"Arisu-san!" Saya wrestled her way free. "Stop that!" Dropping her voice to just barely above a whisper she added she added, "What if somebody gets the wrong idea?"
"You're no fun," Alice Ishida pouted. Everybody knew the irrepressible girl was originally Canadian and that she'd been Chikane's best friend nearly ever since she moved to Japan when she was eight. What nobody other than Arrow, Chikane, and Himeko knew was that Alice and Saya were dating—and Saya wanted to keep it that way. "I glomp my friends all the time. I've glomped Miya so much it'll take Himeko a year to catch up on skinship."
"Well, don't," Saya snapped.
"Things are tough at home?" Alice asked, lowering her voice so that it wouldn't be overheard by the other students on the stairs.
"Yes; my parents did not take Himemiya-san's coming out well at all, and it was even worse because her parents are openly supportive of her. They argued for several hours, and revisited it more than once, over the question of whether they, and I, should drop the Himemiyas socially."
"Wait, they want you to cut Himemiya at school because she's gay?" Arrow boggled. "What a couple of jerkasses."
"Well, they finally settled on not doing that, because they were more concerned with not offending the Himemiya family than with enforcing their own beliefs."
"Yeah, I can see that," Alice decided. "Figured it was too risky to try the 'see, we really do stand for traditional values while the Himemiyas are just old' routine to make a grab for community leadership?"
"I believe so. It helped to settle their minds when the Ohgamis chose to carry on like nothing had happened."
"My dad's cool like that."
"Especially for a priest," Alice noted.
"Hey, now, just because there's a fair whack of jerks in religion doesn't mean religion itself is bad."
"Yeah, you're right. Sorry, Arrow."
"S'ok; we're good."
"They're really on edge about it, though," Saya continued. "What with Himemiya-san turning out to be a lesbian, and they're half convinced that Arrow-san is one, too—"
"Irony, gotta love it."
"—and given that Arisu-san is a very casual girl with her foreign ways, I'm afraid that my parents will seize on anything to claim that my friends aren't suitable companions for the daughter of the Nanase family."
"Yeah, after all, the family's got glorious history and tradition that reaches all the way back to last Tuesday," Arrow snorted. Alice didn't laugh, though, and Saya had no trouble figuring out why.
"I'm really sorry, Arisu-san. I wish there was something we could do, but if my parents ever found out..."
"I wish we could just tell my parents. I know they wouldn't mind; my mom actually cheered right there in the living room when I told them about Miya and Himeko."
"I can't risk it, Arisu-san. Don't you understand? All it would take would be one word out of place! I wish that you hadn't told Kurusugawa-san; she isn't very discreet."
"If you mean she can't lie to save her life, well, yeah, but I kind of had to. I mean, you don't want her finding out by accident and gasping 'Alice and Saya are dating!' at the top of her voice because she's so startled, do you? And she'd find out, too, because Miya tells her everything."
Saya exhaled heavily.
"I know. I know you're right; it's just that I get so nervous. I care so much that I can't let go and give them what they want, but then I worry about them finding out and what they'd do..."
"I...I understand, Saya. I know what you're going through. I just...Well, you know me. Secrets aren't my thing." She brightened then and said, "So hey, what is it I'm going to laugh about?"
"Oh, yeah! Get this, Alice; you won't believe who our editor-in-chief here paired up to do a story!"
Saya just groaned.
"I'm home!" Himeko called as she changed out of her shoes in the foyer of the house. She still wasn't used to her new home in terms of where all the doors led or that she didn't have to go to a public bathhouse if she wanted a soak instead of just a shower, but even so it definitely felt like "home" to her. Maybe it was because her whole family was there, or maybe because they were in Mahoroba, where the Solar Priestess had spent so many lifetimes. Either way, it was a warm, nostalgic feeling.
She followed the scent of sesame oil into the kitchen.
"Mmm, that smells great, Okaasan." Himeko caught sight of the noodles ready to be added into the stir-fry. "Soba? Isn't Otousan coming home for dinner?"
Kurusugawa Eiko shook her head.
"No, he called and said that he and several of his co-workers would be going to a sports bar in town for the game." She smiled at her daughter. "I immediately seized the chance to make soba!"
Himeko grinned back. Her parents shared many important opinions on life goals, ethics, values, and politics, but on soba noodles they found no common ground; Eiko's family ran a noodle restaurant, and her husband couldn't stand soba.
"Who's playing?" she asked.
"It's the Marines against the Buffaloes."
"Oh, so it's the newcomer from Chiba against the locals!" Himeko laughed, knowing how passionate her father was about sports generally and the Chiba Lotte Marines in specific. She could only imagine what it would be like at the bar.
"Exactly, so Hajime will have to cheer four times as hard to make up for it. But how did your day go?"
"Well, the Photography Club assigned me to take pictures to go with a story the Newspaper Club is doing on the Seven Mysteries of Ototachibana Academy." That should be pretty fun.
"The 'Seven Mysteries'? That's interesting; the kids always used to talk about the Seven Mysteries of the high school your father and I attended."
Himeko thought about that.
"That's interesting. You sometimes see it come up in manga, too, when there are seven mysteries at a school. I wonder if that means it's a kind of urban legend. Saya-san said something about finding if some of the stories are made up to fill out a list, so that's probably it, that there are supposed to be seven mysteries as part of the story." Belatedly, she remembered that in at least half of those stories, a horrible fate was supposed to overcome anyone who found out all seven mysteries, and wondered if that was part of Ototachibana's story as well.
I hope not; that's kind of scary! she thought. A moment later, she realized how silly it seemed that the Shrine Maiden of the Sun, who'd fought Yamata no Orochi, would be scared of ghosts. Not that it ever helps me on horror movie night, she thought ruefully. Wait—if there is a ghost, does that mean that as a priestess I'm supposed to exorcise it? This is more complicated than I thought!
"I think so. Well, it certainly sounds like fun, and you've always had a good eye for artistic composition. The Photography Club seems much more like you than the kendo team."
"Well, that was mostly Chikane-chan's idea. Arisu-chan says we have a chance at being nationally ranked this year! Nobody's scored a point off Chikane-chan since junior high, and Oomori-sempai and Hachibe-sempai are both really good as well. Oomori-sempai's been really nice about teaching me the rules; I'm just afraid I'll get so nervous in a match that I forget and commit a foul." She pouted and added, "I wish Otousan was a kendo fan instead of baseball and sumo; I have all the rules of those sports memorized just because he watches them on TV!"
Her mother couldn't help but laugh, though the smile quickly faded.
"Still...Himeko, are you sure that this is for you? Are you sure that girl isn't just keeping you around to cheer for her?"
"Oomori-sempai is ranked as a 4-dan, Okaasan, and I beat her nearly every time in our practice matches, except when I forget the rules." She said it sheepishly, because it sounded a little like bragging, especially as she did feel a sense of pride. It was, after all, the first time in her life—several lives, actually—she'd been praised for something physical or athletic, and that was exciting.
Eiko's eyes widened slightly. Himeko felt a little bit sorry for her mother: the move to Mahoroba had been a big enough change to confuse anyone, and it had been rapidly followed up by multiple revelations from her daughter. In retrospect, Himeko wished that she'd revealed her interest in girls earlier, so that it wouldn't have been so surprising when she started dating Chikane.
"Oh! That reminds me; Chikane-chan gave me something to deliver to you." She got out the envelope, which was all done up in fancy style. Chikane's mother, she had a feeling, had fun putting on a show and playing games with appearances. Of the four parents, she was the one who was openly supportive of the girls' romance, unlike the fathers (who didn't necessarily like the idea but accepted the facts and were determined to make the best of things as they were) or Eiko (who was still having trouble with the idea that this wasn't just a phase and was confused that the other adults assumed it could be more than that). "It's a dinner invitation from the Himemiyas."
"Dinner? Oh, my word; I don't have anything I can wear!"
"I don't think it's supposed to be a formal party, Okaasan," Himeko suggested.
"Yes, but what we call casual and they do can't be the same!"
"You may be right," Himeko agreed, then suddenly giggled at the thought of Chikane's father wrestling with a barbecue grill. No, Himemiya "casual" definitely wasn't the same as Kurusugawa "causal"!
"I can't think that encouraging the acquaintance is a good idea, and yet the Himemiyas seem to be interested in pursuing it." She paused to shake her head. "I just do not understand what they can be thinking."
They want to build a relationship with their future in-laws, Himeko thought, but was bright enough not to say it out loud. The idea of Himeko and Chikane's relationship being a permanent one, to say nothing of Chikane's family openly treating it that way, would just spark an argument. The mental image of Chikane in a bridal gown, though, put a happy smile on her face all the way through dinner.


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Arizona's Minimum Wage Will Increase On January 1, 2015
On January 1, 2015, the Arizona minimum wage will increase from $7.90 to $8.05 per hour.
Each year, on January 1, the Arizona minimum wage increases pursuant to a statutory cost of living formula that was built into the 2006 Arizona Minimum Wage Act. The Act establishes the minimum wage in Arizona and contains detailed employer recordkeeping and enforcement provisions. Arizona's minimum wage is currently higher than the federal rate and employers need to remember that when Arizona and federal minimum wages conflict, they must pay employees the higher of the wages.
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The Green Blade
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this wiki
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The Green Blade is a longsword in Dragon Age: Origins.
Acquisition Edit
This longsword can be found as part of A Missing Child quest in Redcliffe Village.
Notes Edit
- This blade was once owned by Bevin's grandfather, a dragon-slayer.
- The Green Blade has the same model as the Dar'Misaan.


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Proves the Rule
James Kincaid
Few of us can plumb the depths of clichés, even ones we use and depend on. I include myself in this indictment. Some clichés are actually profound. Formulated phrases, called up too often and flabbily applied, do have the power to muddy our thinking; but that's because we're so careless with them, ignore their potential.
Let me cite one: 'That's the exception that proves the rule.' Who really understands that insight into the way we misnavigate the world? Samuel Johnson it was who pointed out that refutations of generalizations can be both technically valid and also supportive of the formula they imagine they are confounding: if you cite a freakish occurrence to refute a commonplace, that very stretching supports its validity. 'Jews aren't athletic.' 'What about Hank Greenburg?' 'Dictators are dangerous.' 'Mussolini enacted domestic reforms.' You get the point. I sure as hell hope so, as I need to assume a certain level of cooperation here.
The other point has to do with reliance on anecdotes. We all know people who reduce the fixed patterns of life to random occurrences. Something might be true for 5,000 people, but if Aunt Gladys found a variant in the pattern, that fact outweighs the general truth in the minds of those faithful to Aunt Gladys, when, in fact, her experience counts for – let's see: nothing! Mother was a great anecdote-citer and it drove everyone around her, me anyhow, bats. I was never allowed to have a bike because a friend of a friend's kid had pedalled over a cliff. That sort of thing.
So, let's see how this works out in reference to my own belief that rich people are lousy bastards. I want to hold that belief up to our two propositions: the exception that proves the rule and the uselessness of anecdotes. I won't be referring directly to them, not wanting to be a big bore; but I ask you to bear them in mind.
There are people who have principled reasons for hating the rich, often political at the core: personal wealth comes at another's expense; some people, through accidents of birth, are placed in positions that have allowed them a leg up in grubbing for money, goods, power. To take this fundamentally unjust advantage and exploit it, even claim for it a personal virtue, is a double whammy of odious selfishness.
Well, blah – blah – blah, I say. Maybe that's all true, but who really gives a rat's ass about such abstract stuff. I mean, what's it have to do with ME?
I hate rich people because of Leon Richards, Sally Lou Gearson, and X. Keep our focus right here, on them. Violent human passions do not attach themselves to anything beyond the material and the personal. Objects of our love and detestation can be non-human – cats, cars, paintings, porch swings – but never abstract. We pretend to have such feelings for country, God, truth, but it's only material things attached to them that rouse us: a nice job, a pretty girl, good sex. It's just that we cannot love abstractions: a country, a God, truth, power. That's just the way it is.
When it gets dangerous is when we convince ourselves that our collection of anecdotes adds up and becomes defensible. Thus we get 'the love of humankind' or 'anti-Semitism' or 'capitalism'.
When I say, 'it gets dangerous,' I'm not really sure what I mean. It's high-sounding to put it that way; but why we would think our anecdotals added up to 'dangerous' I don't know. Probably we're fooling ourselves saying that.
I'm not sure if the capacity to fool ourselves isn't a good hedge against being high-sounding. The worst people I know boast with pride about being 'honest with themselves'. People who have no tolerance for their own need for fantasy are awful.
Let's give this some room. It's good to be able to fool yourself, not to be tied to rigour. As you hang around in this, our world, you find how necessary it is to find a comfortable story to live inside; you learn to be adept at making alternations in the plot, ones according not with 'facts' but with one's fantasy needs.
No need to make all this a moral issue, to call it hard names. We manage to live by our storytelling abilities, as they adjust to keep us from seeing too much, having too much to bear. Almost always, our stories harden into a self-perpetuating tale at which others scoff or yawn. So what? Life gives us so few chances.
Just for instance: my mother convinced herself that my older sister was 'a charming young woman' and that I was 'deep'. Mother sounds like Amanda Wingfield; but she was neither that interesting nor that consistent, simply because she was a woman forced to live as flesh and blood and not a character in a play. But she was capable of gathering anecdotes, often distorted, into pleasing and repetitive fictions. My older sister was a long-toothed, chinless brunette who giggled tunelessly when she was nervous. She was smart and witty, but her marketable 'charm' resided in her willingness to have sex with any boy willing to ignore her looks. She had plenty of action until she hit about seventeen and her physical attributes made screwing her less appealing than paying someone else for it. After that point, my mother converted 'charm' to 'spirituality'. Real joke there, as Martha was an atheist nearly rabid in her views. Don't get me wrong: I like Martha and imagine I'd have done just what she did with my loins, under the circumstances; she says maybe 10 per cent of the sex was okay. Martha doesn't mind being thought charming or even spiritual, and it adds something to the comfort of my mother's otherwise pointless days – so what the hell.
It's a little different with her insistence on my depth.
One day, when I was a cute ten or eleven and subject to grabs from neighbours and family friends, a visitor, one hand on my ass, asked me a question designed to allow him to keep his hand where it was: 'How do you like school?' Before I could sort through possible responses – 'At least my ass is safe there' – Mother cut in: 'No use asking him – like talking to an oyster.' 'Ah,' said Mr Barkin, 'still waters run deep,' kneading my butt as if it were a loaf of sour dough.
That's all Mother needed, a cliché – 'deep'. No longer just rude and self-absorbed, I was running two miles below the surface.
In point of fact, Mother was on target with me, which just goes to show you that every now and then a stopped clock is right – or however that goes.
My depth in reference to our current subject, the odious rich, consists of the following: an ability to analyze the secrets of the well-off, the source of their power and also their vulnerability. I found quickly that a small expenditure for clothes and a willingness to suck up would put me in a position to use my depth to exact revenge on a series of rich people, starting with junior-high assholes and running through to where I am now, a sophomore at Stanford University. My junior high was a private school – perfect for collecting privileged assholes – and, as you know, Stanford University is an Ivy League wanabee collection of snobs and shits. Also perfect!
The plan I devised depended on an initial willingness to suck up. I guess I said that, but it's important to understanding my plan: rich people are able to draw others to them but also desperately need the affirmation provided by toadies, rendering them oddly dependent on these hangers-on.
Become a hanger-on, then, and you gain power.
That's step number one. But you need to hate the rich. Too many hangers-on admire their pole star and are happy to exist in the reflected light of their love – for love of a sort it is. That odd mutual dependency can lead to a fixed orbital movement. To avoid that, hatred is mandatory.
Given that hatred, a bit of acting talent, and a strong stomach (the rich tolerate the most egregious flattery), the toady quickly seizes control over the vulnerable rich kid. (Let's start with kids, since I did; though older ones are no different.)
Rich kids have, every one of them, established a glossy and glamorous surface, often dazzling: clothes, cars and electronic equipment; but also an ease and assurance, a trust in the admiration of others to support their act. They have nothing but the glow surrounding them, a glow they have no means of regulating, need simply to assume.
Of course the power of such assumptions is usually enough, given how shy and uncertain most of us are around the rich. But when the toady turns, starts thinking about what's going on, the rich are impotent: their power is paper-thin, sustained by a fantasy it takes two to uphold.
More specifically: in seventh grade, there was this piece of arrogant shit named Leon McGarry. Leon was a super-rich pretty boy, parents pillars of the country club. Some rich fucks depend more on appearance than others. Leon was almost all appearance, from clothes to haircuts to special manicuring. (Manicures in the seventh grade? I may be misremembering, but it's MY memory.) In another environment, Leon's dainty pretties might have landed him in homophobic hell; but a private school of this quality is very slow to make this association, for obvious reasons: everybody would seem gay if that route were opened. Are you delicate, unathletic and girly? Only in a posh private school will you be the norm, escape gay bashing.
Leon was an expensive target for me to set up: I pretended I needed him as a fashion consultant, being careful to let him know I could never match, only imitate. I lacked his taste, his money. The last admission was tricky, since Leon was sure not interested in hanging with the poor. I had to suggest plenitude but with limits below his. I did this so well, Leon began buying me things – a sweater here and a jacket there.
Thing is, Leon started to like me. He would call me and suggest outings, even started hinting at overnights. That's what I was waiting for.
Leon was easy pickings, once the overnight idea came up.
'How about we camp out, buddy?'
'You think?'
'Not if you don't want to, Leon. But you have a backyard the size of most counties. We could set up a good half mile from the house, have all the privacy we want, smoke some pot – I'll get it.'
What I was really thinking of was attacking Leon through his appearance. He depended so much on clothes, the first part of my plan was to rob him of those. Make him naked, humiliated, reduced.
'Why are you setting up the camera?'
'You object, Leon? I thought it'd be fun to have later.'
'Oh, yeah.'
He didn't count on the play I then directed and filmed. It involved slowly undressing a drugged-up Leon in front of the camera, reversing him and painting obscene messages on his butt. Then I'd copy the tape and use it to blackmail him into becoming my very own toady, willing to submit to minor servitudes, and further filmings.
Leon didn't work out too well. He became agreeable so quickly, and so willing to serve me – that's the word – that the fun almost disappeared:
'I'll come over tonight for a blowjob, Leon.'
'God, Leon, don't you object?'
'Why would I?'
Worst of all, I found myself enjoying conversations with Leon, who turned out to be well-read and quick, trapping me before I knew it into almost – damn it – friendship.
So my first attempt not only didn't work; it backfired, because of the peculiar nature of Leon and not because my scheme was in any way defective.
Girls are different, I found. Sex is central in one's plans, had better be. With this in mind, I turned to target number two, Sally Lou Gearson, and a project more challenging and yet conventional: after all, sophomores in high school find easy reasons for dating. Still, to date across social classes required that Sally be off-centre. She was just that. Sally was kewpie-doll pretty but she was a bit smarter than she looked and a little bored with what was expected of her, though she didn't know how bored she was. Sally was skinny, boyishly figured, but sure as hell attractive. Naturally, she knew how to dress.
Naturally, so did I. Sally didn't strain my budget in the same way as Leon: I could get by with saggers and tees, pretending to the cheapest cool type available and countering it with 'gentleness' and 'sensitivity'. Some bad poetry – though as good as I could plagiarize – went a long way with Sally.
Sally and I started by kidding around in the hall, an outgrowth of an English class where I arranged to be her writing partner – thanks Ms T. Before long we were making joint trips to the library, attending poetry readings at a local café and drinking lattes.
Sally was, by nature and habit, a modest girl, and her bohemianism was largely theoretical. I soon found that it was a major turn-on (to me) to induce her to write personal poetry that was 'direct', i.e., erotic. It became routine for me to get Sally blushing as she wrote, pushing her way past her limits of decency (and experience) with subjects I introduced and suggested that a poet would be wrong to ignore.
'Sally, you have a little time today? Okay if you are in a rush.'
'I have all the time you have, Tom. I love being with you – writing.'
'I sometimes think I embarrass you, being so direct.'
'Not at all – well, a little, but I need to get over that. You're good for me. It's silly for me to let barriers exist. I should be able to write about anything.'
'That has to do with being able to feel absolutely anything. Can you?'
'I can try.'
'But are you willing to try? I sometimes think you hold things back – from me.'
She leaned over the coffee table there in the café and grabbed my hand, her boyish chest exposing itself as her flowered blouse flopped forward. I could tell her breath was coming fast. 'Give me a chance.'
'Well, let's see.' I leaned forward and kissed her, letting our lips barely touch but extending my tongue to see if she would meet it. She did, moving forward and almost losing her balance.
It was our first kiss, very passionate.
I said nothing, stood and pulled her up beside me. More kissing in the lounge. She would either be embarrassed past hope or a pushover from here on out. I pulled her close, running my hands down her sides and inside her low-slung saggers.
'Not here, Tommy. Oh God. Do it.'
We did it – not there. We managed to make it to the city park, behind some trees, naked and unprotected in any way. Our asses were scratched raw by the gravel as we banged each other repeatedly, backwards, forwards, sideways.
Funny thing is it was neither brutal nor calculated, at least beyond the kiss in the coffee bar. It was pure teen passion – or, if not pure, then fun, hormone-driven.
Afterwards, Sally didn't seem humiliated, ready to weep from shame. She was laughing: 'Well, Tommy, I guess we lost our purity pretty completely! Hope you're not sorry, but I practically raped you! I gotta pad my ass next time.'
Nice girl, you're starting to think. Me too. Before long, I did institute the taping; but turns out she found it 'spicy', hardly the perfect lead-in to blackmail. Then she took on tutoring my little sister, Sally did. My little sister is the dearest person, so how could I ruin Sally after she took on my graceless, sweet-hearted Molly? Plus she was the sexiest woman I ever knew, and the funniest: once she gave me a blowjob in Latin class, crouched under my desk. And she lured me to the gym and, with other kids there, led me to a corner and proceeded to climb an exercise ladder ahead of me – beskirted and without underwear, doing a little dance and getting me so inflamed that I had no choice but to pursue her skyward to the upper running track, there to have my way – make that her way – on the curved, heavily banked section.
General point, you are thinking, not yet established. But I am undeterred. I understand the power of anecdotes and the way they can, in odd ways, establish logical sequences that are irrefutable if hidden. There are reasons for hating rich people and I am laying them out here – or will soon. Don't be impatient.
What we have so far is an evolved species, a social type that has moved beyond its elemental form. Of course it has, through natural selection, rid itself of its most obnoxious arrogances, its markers of self-satisfaction and contempt for others. It has learned 'niceness' and 'consideration'. In order to make our job doable, we must find a specimen of richness less polished (disguised) and thus closer to its essence.
Which is to say a rich black kid. Rich whites have been around since riches came into being as a form of cultural life. Not so rich kids of other colours.
So X was perfect for me. X was possessed of a charming sort of egocentric bisexuality I often encountered in my freshman year at Stanford, but never to this degree. That he would call himself 'X' indicates a great deal of primitive self-consciousness, you could say.
I ran across X shortly after arriving – really did – in a field as we were playing a game of touch football, or, rather, others inclined to such hilarity were playing, while I drove a golf cart. Don't ask how we ended up there. Unimportant.
X, slightly built and delicate, was not well suited to withstand the impact of a motorized vehicle.
'Damn, man! You about knocked me into next week.' (Such antiquated phrases, were characteristic of X, a strained way of shooting for 'cool', I thought at once.)
I don't know if I need to give you many details on X, those details being pretty much all of a piece. Unluckily, we became lab partners and found ourselves spending an inordinate amount of time together: yes, in moments of what you would call intimacy. It was also X who told me that my mother had died and who came back with me to the funeral, standing as a buffer between me and my brute of a father. He's lent me money on many occasions and he has been instrumental in helping Molly get into a hotshot leftist prep school.
So, there you have it, what seems to me a fine example of causal reasoning and cunning social observation. If I do say so myself. I'd better.
(Issue 25)


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Mr. Bean's Holiday
Read Our Full Review & Parent Discussion Questions Here
Mr. Bean's Holiday
Rating & Content Info
Why is Mr. Bean's Holiday rated G? Mr. Bean's Holiday is rated G by the MPAA Re-rated: previously rated PG.
This comedy features a bumbling man who wins a trip to the south of France, but finds his vacation fraught with a myriad of obstacles of his own making. Content concerns include the depiction of a man who appears to be committing suicide by jumping from a low bridge into a river. People slap each other on two occasions for comedic effect. Another man is seen from behind using a urinal (no nudity is shown). A man burns his finger with a cigarette lighter in an attempt to stay awake while driving. A big dog surprises a man. Some explosions are seen on a movie set. Two uses of "darn" are noted. Finally, Mr. Bean does get himself into some stressful situations, which may leave very young viewers momentarily concerned.
Page last updated March 9, 2009
|Rating Descriptor
|British Columbia
|Not Recommended for Young Children
|Canadian Home Video
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News About "Mr. Bean's Holiday"
Cast and Crew
Mr. Bean's Holiday is directed by and stars Rowan Atkinson, Jean Rochefort, Willem Dafoe.
Home Video
The most recent home video release of Mr. Bean's Holiday movie is November 26, 2007. Here are some details…
DVD Release Date: 27 November 2007
Mr. Bean's Holiday is served up on DVD with a side order of deleted scenes and three featurettes (French Beans, Beans in Cannes and The Human Bean). Audio tacks are available in Dolby Digital (English), with subtitles in English (SDH), French and Spanish.
Related home video titles:
Rowan Atkinson spoofs the spy genre in the film Johnny English and lends his voice to the character of Zazu the Hornbill in Disney's The Lion King.


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Residenza Trastevere
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TripAdvisor Reviews Residenza Trastevere Rome
Travel Blogs from Rome
Rome...so many people..and simply not enough time
... to the Vatican museums to pick up our tickets and head through the security check point. From there were were herded like cattle through the museum area. It was extremely crowded and unbearably hot. There were far too many people being admitted for it to be safe. I couldn't believe how insanely packed it was. This had to be against a fire code or some other offense.
It was too hot and crowded to be able to enjoy or appreciate our ...
... but was not. No one spoke english and they used numbers to order (queues are big in London, you don't mess with the queue. In Italy, it is a free for all or there is a weird number queue thing.) We had not idea how to order. Eventually we did, but were never asked to pay that also took a while to figure where the register was. Finally we could eat. We then found a good gelato place down the road. We then took ...
Pompeii & Vesuvius
... the stone in the doorway. They had fast food shops with containers in the bench for keeping food warm. So everything old is new again. Pretty cool hey! What they have found is that there has now been decay in the areas and things that have been uncovered. Hence they don't plan to uncover any more of the town but instead concentrate on restoring and maintaining what they have. About 16,000 people a day visit so there are lots of tour groups competing for space. ...
We arrived!
... that kinda looked at us sideways after all Kata is weird hahaha. We went for a swim and did some grocery shopping. Going to finish our bottle of wine then head to bed early!! Long day at the Vatican tomorrow, ps hopefully more public transit!! (Noooooooooo from Kata)
Love K & ...
Rome in Ruins
... was closed off, empty and covered in scaffolding. It was one of things I was most looking forward to. Now ill deff have to come back. I still tried to throw money in but I suck so obviously it didn't quite make it. We saw a lot in the little time we had in Rome, as we did a walking tour as soon as we arrived, went to the Spanish steps (I didn't count them ... couldn't be bothered), the pantheon was pretty neat, it represents all ...
Other places to stay in Rome
Parco TirrenoTrastevere/Aventine, Rome | 4 star condofrom $115
- Great is you want to combine sight-seeing with relaxing
- Great hotel but location not for everyone
Aldrovandi Residence City SuitesParioli/Pinciano, Rome | 4 star condofrom $208
Adagio Rome VaticanTrionfale, Rome | 4 star condofrom $93
Residence CandiaPrati/Trionfale, Rome | 3 star condofrom $101
Bollo ApartmentsRegola, Rome | Condofrom $97
Residence Colombo 112Ostiense, Rome | 3 star condofrom $104
Hotel Mayfair Residence RomeHistoric Center, Rome | 4 star condofrom $401
Residence Aurelia AnticaTrastevere/Aventine, Rome | 3 star condofrom $60
Aurora ApartmentHistoric Center, Rome | Condofrom $90
Trianon Borgo Pio ResidenceBorgo, Rome | 3 star condofrom $122
C&C historical centre ApartmentsPonte, Rome | Condofrom $125
Luxury Manfredi ApartmentsCelio, Rome | 4 star condofrom $439
- Thank you
- A good choice
- Loved this hotel
Eur Torrino ResidenceEUR, Rome | 3 star condofrom $152
Trionfal ApartmentTrionfale, Rome | Condofrom $126
Rome Holidays - TestaccioTrastevere/Aventine, Rome | Condofrom $111
Trastevere ApartmentsTrastevere/Aventine, Rome | 3 star condofrom $152
Rome Holidays - Via Del PavonePonte, Rome | Condofrom $103
Trastevere ApartmentTrastevere, Rome | Condofrom $109
Nazionale 51Via Nazionale 51, Rome | Condofrom $134
Piccolo Principe B&BHistoric Center, Rome | Condofrom $99
Aabacus Roman Pyramid HouseGarbatella, Rome | Condofrom $134
Antica Fontana di Traiano ApartmentsHistoric Center, Rome | Condofrom $149
Casa Edoardo B&BArdeatino, Rome | Condofrom $40


text:
ED Magedson – Founder
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Independent Wireless IWS -Shantee Williams- Kevin Chambers- Darlene Brown-Taylor Small- Ms. Freemanwww.Getindependent.net At;antal, Georgia U.S.A.
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text:
Gabriel Palma
Lecturer in Economics
Faculty of Economics and Politics,
Sidgwick Avenue
Cambridge CB3 9DD
Mr. Palma is currently University Lecturer, Faculty of Economics, University of Cambridge.
His Research interests include: The economic development of Latin America and East Asia and their integration within the World Economy. In particular, the study of these economies from the point of view of their economic history, macroeconomics, international trade and international finance.
Focus: Development, Economy, Finance, Trade
Link: http://www.econ.cam.ac.uk/faculty/palma/index.html
Selected Publications:Trade liberalization in Mexico. Its impact on growth, employment and wages
Specialization:Economic development, economic history, macroeconomics, international finance and trade
Language Fluency:English
Last Updated: Sep 25, 2006


text:
Heh. I bet you weren't expecting me today. I swapped with JB. And now you're stuck with me. Bwa ha ha.
For the past few weeks... months... okay, the past year or so, I've been so buried in trying to bring all my books out into the world, I haven't really been paying much attention to anything else. In doing so, I think I might've forgotten something really important - the readers. You guys. You're why we do this after all.
Okay, so part of it, if I'm being honest about myself, is the need to get these stories out of my head and into the world. The 'out of my head' part is necessary so my head doesn't explode. The 'into the world' part is so I don't sit here wondering if I've just wasted the better part of twelve years.
I mean, if the stories weren't meant to be read, why would any of us bother editing? It's not like it's exactly fun - at least not for me. I can write stories all day for myself. Duh.
Anyway, part of being a published author is being out there and available. Accessible, at least to a certain extent. Yeah, umm, that's something I struggle with anyway, so it's the first thing I shift aside. I'm a hermit. But I should still be a friendly hermit. :waves from her spot under the rock:
And it's not that I'm not friendly. I just don't think about it sometimes. It's like walking through Walmart. Some days, I smile and nod and tell people to have a nice day. Some days, I'm lost in my own head and the only thing on my mind is getting through the list so I can go back to my hole. It's not you. It's me.
Other authors really do this part so much better. They're fun and interesting and approachable. I see them out there doing it. Like the wallflower at the dance, watching the other kids having fun but fearing the chance that should I trot out onto the dance floor, I'll be dancing alone. (Ugh, shades of my 10-year class reunion coming back to haunt me.)
Anyway, feel free to follow me or friend me or whatever. Follow along on this wild ride that doesn't always make much sense. If nothing else, it should be interesting.
Oh, and thanks for following the Killer Chicks. JB and Karyn are the cool kids. And thanks, JB, for letting me have your spot on the dance floor today. It totally rocked.
Now's your chance to leave a comment. Tell me who you are and what you're up to in life. Or to quote a line from Muppet Christmas Carol "Come in and know me better, man."
Cuz, hey, I'm the kinda gal who quotes Muppets.


text:
Please wait for an announcement from Ricoh for the future cloud API offering.
RICOH Cloud API (Beta)
RICOH Cloud API (or Ricoh API) is a cloud API which enables you to access BaaS (Backend as a Service) for imaging devices including THETA. You can use RICOH Cloud API after you complete your entry of RICOH THETA × IoT Developers Contest presented by RICOH.
What's New
- July 28, 2016 - SDK Updates
- Media Storage:
- Added Search function in Ruby SDK, Swift SDK and Java SDK
- Enhanced Metadata function in Ruby SDK, Swift SDK and Java SDK
- Media Storage:
- July 8, 2016 - SDK Updates
- Image Processing:
- Released a sample program
- Image Processing:
- June 29, 2016 - Cloud API & SDK Updates
- Image Processing:
- Released Cloud API
- Media Storage:
- Released Java SDK
- Added Search function in JavaScript SDK and Python SDK - You can use metadata to search for specific media items.
- Enhanced Metadata function in JavaScript SDK and Python SDK - You can attach your own metadata to media items.
- Video Streaming:
- Added another sample app - You can see how to broadcast your live videos to the web.
- Image Processing:
- News & Announcements…
RICOH Cloud API requires Ricoh API Client Credentials (client ID and client secret) and User ID.
- You gain Ricoh API Client Credentials, after you complete your entry of RICOH THETA × IoT Developers Contest. When the entry is completed, you receive an email with Ricoh API Client Credentials as well as an entry completion email.
- For User ID, you need to create an Administrator Account on Unified Communication System web page.
See User Account Setup Guide for more information.
Getting Started
The following instructions are designed to show you the common usage of RICOH Cloud API in your projects. See SDK & Sample Apps for detailed instructions on each SDK. In the instructions below, Media Storage SDK for JavaScript is used as an example.
1. Install an SDK
$ npm install ricohapi-mstorage
2. Load and Set Up the SDK Modules
const MStorage = require('ricohapi-mstorage').MStorage;
const AuthClient = require('ricohapi-mstorage').AuthClient;
const client = new AuthClient('<your_client_id>', '<your_client_secret>');
client.setResourceOwnerCreds('<your_user_id>', '<your_password>');
const mstorage = new MStorage(client);
NOTE: You need to pass your Ricoh API Client Credentials and User ID to the client module.
3. Connect to the Ricoh Cloud Server
.then(() => console.log('connected'));
4. Enhance Your Project
Now you can use the methods provided in the SDK to enhance your project. The following examples shows how to upload and download image files.
Upload a .jpg file to the cloud storage
.then(() => console.log('uploaded'));
List IDs of uploaded files
.then(list => console.log(list));
If successful, you see a list of files with the following structure:
Download a file by ID
mstorage.downloadTo('download_media_id', './download_file_path.jpg')
.then(() => console.log('downloaded'));
SDK & Sample Apps
Media Storage
- Media Storage REST API
- Media Storage SDK for Ruby
- Media Storage SDK for JavaScript
- Media Storage SDK for Python
- Media Storage SDK for Swift
- Media Storage SDK for Java
- Media Storage Sample App


text:
There are different priorities among the folk of Kent and Durham this season. For Durham, in their first season in the top division since they were relegated from the inaugural upper tier six years ago, mere survival will suffice.
Kent, the only county never to be relegated, have more pressing matters on their minds, more pressing even than the absence of their two South African overseas players Andrew Hall and Justin Kemp. In the plans for the £7m redevelopment of the ground, displayed in the pavilion yesterday, there is no provision for the ground's sacred lime tree, which was only replaced last year when the original died. Questions are being asked.
Durham, who won promotion in both leagues last season, looked comfortable in their new upmarket neighbourhood. After winning the toss they ended the first day on 401 for five thanks to a career-best 193 not out from Gordon Muchall, his fourth championship century.
They reached their maximum fifth batting point when Muchall pulled the last delivery of the day, bowled by Darren Stevens, for four. Durham, however, will miss Australia's Mike Hussey, whose inspiring batting last season was matched only by his positive captaincy.
Their bowling is a bigger worry. Last season, when they won their first four matches, gaining an impetus and confidence they never lost, their first four bowlers were Steve Harmison, Liam Plunkett, Mark Davies and Paul Collingwood.
They were all missing yesterday - as was their overseas quick Mick Lewis, who has a tender hamstring. The absence of Harmison, Plunkett and Collingwood was requested by England, though Harmison is injured in any case. Davies is still out because of the stress fracture which ruled him out of the final six weeks of last season, when he was on the verge of becoming the first bowler to 50 championship wickets for the second year.
In the morning, Kent bowled a little too short on a slow pitch. There was some away swing from the pavilion end and some in-slant from Nackington Road, neither of which caused Durham much concern. The sluggish surface did not suit Amjad Khan and Robbie Joseph was the best of Kent's quick bowlers. The breakthrough came when Simon Cook changed to the Nackington Road end and immediately bowled one that held its line and trimmed Lewis's off bail.
When Joseph had the half-forward Jimmy Maher - Hussey's replacement - lbw at 52 Kent, led by their new captain Robert Key had the edge. But the busy Gary Pratt then joined Muchall and the pair added 118 in 22 overs. Pratt reached his fifty with his seventh four but was then bowled by Min Patel, who troubled the left-hander bowling into the rough.
Durham faltered. Dale Benkenstein was also bowled by Patel, sweeping, and Gareth Breese played a loose shot and was caught at backward point. But Muchall, who pulled and drove most of his 30 fours, was joined by Phil Mustard, who reached 67 not out, and the new boys' dominance was restored.


text:
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Always read product information, including warnings, directions and ingredients contained on actual product labels before using. If you have any safety concerns regarding a product contact the manufacturer. WWSM accepts no liability for inaccuracies in information given, or provided by manufacturers, nor for any loss or damage that may arise from use of the information contained within material on this website. Read our full Legal Disclaimer
Contact: MHRA 151 Buckingham Palace Road, London SW1W 9SZ
Email email@example.com
Telephone 020 3080 6000
Fax 020 3118 9803
Website: http://medicine-seller-register.mhra.gov.uk


text:
CharlotteS... Model
Heimdall_73Photographer Male Porsgrunn–Skien, Telemark, Norway
My Website: My homepageMy MM URL: http://www.modelmayhem.com/heimdall
Mayhem # 1506212
About MeStarted photographing in 2001 and think it is a lot of fun. I am always serious in my work and messages and mail are always answered if i get them. Always looking for good ideas and like challenges in life. Like alternative pictures like emo, goth, piercings and tattoos but every idea is interesting.
Have a great day.
Have you worked with Heimdall_73? Add Credits for Heimdall_73! >>
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Tag cloud phrases:air traffic austrian air ban air down lax flights temporarily iceland removes lax air removes ban rumbling volcano spy plane stop stop temporarily vanish traffic control traffic controller traffic controllers traffic flights traffic plans traffic rumbling update spy vanish austrian


text: One thing is for sure, if you ask developer Chris Lacy for something enough times, he's going to do it. Well, maybe. Case in point, the new version of Action Launcher includes a number of highly requested features. You can grab v3.4 from the Play Store right now to check it out for yourself.Read More


text:
What do stream processors mean on a graphics card?
Stream processing is a form of computing derived from, and similar to, parallel processing. Stream processing is simplified by limiting the types of operations that are allowed to be performed on t...
Read More »
Does onboard graphics mean I don't need a graphics card?
Yes. If a motherboard has onboard graphics, it means that the motherboard contains a Graphics Processing Unit (GPU). You do not need to install a graphics card unless you are dissatisfied with the ...
Read More »
What does tv out on a graphics card mean?
The TV Out jack on a graphics card is used to connect a laptop or desktop computer with a compatible television in order to view the computer's display on the television. Not all graphics cards inc...
Read More »
What does integrated graphics card mean?
An integrated graphics card is not a piece of computer hardware per se, but is rather a section of a computer's motherboard that is dedicated to producing and processing graphics information. Integ...
Read More »
If a 1.5 GB Graphics card performs identically to a 3GB Graphics card, why is the 3GB $200 more expensive?
For the same reason that HP charges $120.00 for 8g of ram when configuring a computer on their website. - (Newegg price for 8g - approx $40.00) - If they charge it, sheeple will pay...


text:
Hotel Excelsior le Terrazze
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How has this hotel rated in the past?
- Swimming pool
- Restaurant
- Free parking
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- Swimming pool
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TripAdvisor Reviews Hotel Excelsior le Terrazze Garda
Travel Blogs from Garda
Serene Sirmione
... 3 kilometers down) a huge lake called Lake Garda. I packed my bags on Saturday morning and next thing, I was on a train to Sirmione!
Ways to reach Sirmione from Milan using public transport:
- One of the best ways to reach Sirmione from Milan is ...
... other places we have been. he water is very clear & in the small fishing harbour we saw a few fish, some gulls, ducks & swans & a lone cormorant, so it must be reasonably healthy we assume. On the way to Garda we passed Lazise which still had quite a lot of its old wall intact so on our return journey we left the bus & walked around the little walled town. It appeared to be older than Garda, with another tiny fishing boat basin & ...
... that looked nice, but otherwise the city seemed to be dark and covered in graffiti. I decided I would just head back to the area where my hotel was, just few minutes out of the centre and find some food there. What I didn't know was the only restaurant in this are was a steakhouse. Not wanting to ride down the major road in the dark back to the centre, I decided to just have whatever was cheapest. This turned out to be something like ...
Day 48 - Verona Vistas
We got a later start due to a restless nights sleep. Nice hotel but noisy neighborhood around it. The weather however was perfect for touring Verona today. After breakfast at the hotel (coffee was strong!!) we set out to cover many of the sights we had seen the day before on our wine tour but did not stop and enjoy.
We started at the Arena di Verona. An old coliseum akin to the one in Rome but smaller. It is however the third largest in Europe. ...
Day 47 - Vino in Verona
... Soraighe". Great tasting, full body with a very nice finish. We even tried to buy some locally but could not find it. There is a website for it however - www.soraighe.com.
The tour was a great way to get a first look at old Verona, a classic Italian town with a lot of old Roman construction including a remarkable arena.
We completed our wine tasting / tour of Verona about ...


text:
Looks Like Netflix Is Raising It's Price Again. Will You Continue Your Subscription? [POLL]
I have Netflix. I like Netflix. I've had it for a few years now back when it was a disc + online service. When they split so you had to pay separately for both I kept the streaming as I didn't need the movie by mail, but I'm still a fan. I just heard they were raising their price again. My question is, no matter how much they raise it, will you keep it?


text:
Johnny Football be really good
By KRISTIE RIEKEN
Associated Press
COLLEGE STATION, Texas — Johnny Manziel certainly has the statistics worthy of a Heisman Trophy winner. He plays in the powerful Southeastern Conference. He has a signature win — all things Heisman voters typically look for.
The only question is whether the voters will give the award to a freshman for the first time.
Adrian Peterson, star running back for the Vikings and the only freshman to finish second in the voting, is hoping the jinx ends Saturday night.
"Hopefully, they don't rob him like they did me," Peterson, who lost by 328 votes to junior Matt Leinart in 2004, said in an interview with The Associated Press. "I hope he wins."
Manziel may be a favorite this year, but who knows? Kansas State quarterback Collin Klein and Notre Dame linebacker Manti Te'o are the other finalists and both can make strong cases, too. But neither caught the attention of the fans quite like Johnny Football, who led the Aggies to an upset of No. 1 Alabama in Tuscaloosa.
Manziel accumulated 4,600 yards of total offense in 12 games to break the Southeastern Conference record for total yards in a season. The record was previously held by 2010 Heisman winner Cam Newton, who needed 14 games to pile up 4,327 yards.
The Aggies, who went 10-2 in their first season in the SEC after moving from the Big 12, certainly hope Manziel is the one to finally break the freshman curse (Manziel is a redshirt freshman, not a true freshman).
On a website the school created to promote Manziel for the award, they point out that he's different than many freshman. Manziel enrolled in college in January 2010 and will be a junior academically this spring. He turns 20 on Thursday, making him older than Mark Ingram was when he took home the Heisman as a sophomore in 2009.
He would also be just the second Aggie to win the award and the first since John David Crow in 1957. Crow got a push from his famous coach before the voting was done that season.
"If John David Crow doesn't win the Heisman Trophy," then-A&M coach Paul "Bear" Bryant said, "they ought to stop giving it."
Crow got a good laugh this week when asked if he believed the same was true of Manziel.
"I don't have near the audience that coach Bryant had," he said, still chuckling. "I'm not sure how big that would go over."
Then the 77-year-old former halfback got serious.
"He is very, very deserving," Crow said. "I don't care what age he is, whether he is right-handed or left-handed, wears a 17 shoe or nine shoe, he is very, very deserving of being named the outstanding player in college this year."
Manziel's whirlwind season had a modest beginning with him having to beat out two other quarterbacks to win the starting position in mid-August.
As his numbers grew, so did the legend of Johnny Football, a nickname Aggies bestowed him with as he settled in at College Station. When the Aggies beat the defending champion Crimson Tide on national television behind an outstanding performance by Manziel, the phrase seemed to be everywhere.
It's a name that still amuses him.
"I don't know if I really see it as a legend," he said. "It's more of a folk tale, I guess."
His numbers alone seem like the stuff of some exaggerated Texas football folk tale. He has thrown for 3,419 yards and 24 touchdowns and run for 1,181 yards and 19 more scores to become the first freshman, first SEC player and fifth player overall to throw for 3,000 yards and run for 1,000 in a season.
But his eye-popping numbers don't tell the whole story. The improvisation is what really sets him apart. Manziel has a knack for evading defenders, staying on his feet and finishing plays that seem impossible. Kind of like Robert Griffin III, the Baylor star who won the Heisman last year. Or Fran Tarkenton, another wizard at avoiding defenders.
"I don't think there's many people in this world that could do some of the things he did," Crow said. "He was born to run around back there — at least it looks that way to me."
Manziel was so disappointed when he came out of spring practice as a backup that he enlisted the help of quarterback guru George Whitfield to refine his skills this summer. He spent a week at Whitfield Athletix in San Diego, training up to five hours a day with Whitfield, who has worked with scores of players including Newton, Vince Young and Andrew Luck.
Whitfield was struck by Manziel's competitiveness and his desire to soak up every bit of knowledge that the coach had for not just him, but all of the quarterbacks in training.
Whitfield said the only other quarterback he's seen who can improvise like Manziel is Newton. But he said the 6-foot-1 Manziel might be tougher to deal with than the 6-5 Newton.
"Cam poses a lot of problems because he's so imposing," Whitfield said. "Johnny, on the other hand, causes as many problems and it's more overwhelming to defensive players because they think: 'If I can just catch him, I can get him on the ground.' But you can't get him."
He's enjoyed watching Manziel develop this season, and saw some flashes of what he could be when the pair worked this summer.
"He's got this great sense of awareness and vision. He's so creative," said Whitfield, who then offered a James Bond analogy. "There's always some kind of 007 escape route in mind. If Cam is Superman, I would say that Johnny is like 007."
Growing up in Kerrville, Texas, Manziel didn't dream of football stardom. He always pictured his path leading to a baseball diamond.
"I always thought since I was a little kid that I would play pro baseball," said Manziel, who also starred on his high school baseball team. "My biggest dream was that I wanted to play in the MLB. I wanted to play for the Rangers and wanted to play shortstop."
But fate stepped in and altered his dream.
"Then football came along and took center stage," he said.
Manziel's success on the field seems almost too good to be true. And when he rescued a kitten from the middle of a busy, four-lane road near Kyle Field earlier this season, it only added to the mystique of Johnny Football. (The semi-daring rescue is referenced on his Heisman page.)
"Just rescued a kitten from the middle of Wellborn Rd," Manziel tweeted in September when he wasn't allowed to talk to the media because of coach Kevin Sumlin's ban on freshmen interviews. He added a picture of a scared-looking black cat to prove his story.
Things haven't always been rosy for Manziel. In June, he was arrested in town after police said he was involved in a fight and produced a fake ID. He was charged with disorderly conduct and two other misdemeanors.
"It was a critical mistake in my life," Manziel said. "It was something that I learned a lot from. It had consequences with coach Sumlin and my teammates and everyone here in Aggieland. From that I've had to make changes in my life."
Less than six months after his arrest, Manziel has helped the Aggies to their best season since 1998, and made Texas A&M one of the top teams in the nation after last year's disappointing 7-6 finish.
He's proud to have helped put the Aggies back in the spotlight and knows winning the Heisman would only add to it.
"To bring a Heisman Trophy back to Aggieland for all these fans since it's been so all these years since we've had a Heisman Trophy winner … to really bring the excitement and really bring something positive back to Aggieland would be something that is truly an ultimate goal," he said.
He's got a fan in Peterson, who ran for an NCAA freshman record 1,925 yards at Oklahoma in 2004 and believes the only reason he didn't win the Heisman was because he was a first-year player.
"It's sad when you think about it, because the Heisman goes to the best player in the country so the voters shouldn't look at it and go over what they've done over their career," Peterson said. "If he's the best player that year? Then that's what it needs to be."
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text:
Last Night
"How did it go at Wellesley Books last night?" says Admin.
"No one threw anything," says Spence.
"That's our metric! And you have to have one these days, when everything has to be measured and quantified."
"Is there a problem with that?"
"Not if you're working for McKinsey. Yes if you're just trying to live a normal life."
Tags: appearances, Paw and Order Tour, Wellesley Books
This entry was posted on Thursday, September 18th, 2014 at 8:08 am and is filed under Chet The Dog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.