Fru Furb

Recently, I’ve been reading Ron Chernow’s ‘Alexander Hamilton’ biography, and there’s a few things in there I find note-worthy. (If you’re as obsessed with Hamilton as I am, I do recommend reading this book. It is, after all, the foundation on which Lin-Manuel Miranda built ‘Hamilton’ and it gets into a lot of depth about Ham’s life. The excessive amount of research done for this book amazes me. I applaud you Ron Chernow.)

One time during the war, civilians in Broadway tore down a large statue of King George then melted it down and made 42,088 bullets, a fact which I find, for some reason, utterly savage

It’s no wonder people thought Hamilton and Laurens were gay, the letters they wrote to each other, primarily, the letters Hamilton wrote to Laurens… ah, I’ll just leave the examples down below

Hamilton to Laurens: “Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, it might be in my power by action rather than words to convince you that I love you.”

Not enough for you? But wait, the letter goes on to say later:

“You should have not taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent.”

Another one from Hamilton to Laurens: “I have written you five or six letters since you left Philadelphia and I should have written you more had you made a proper return,”

Looks like Ham is being clingy. He even admits to it:

“But, like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued.”

After his engagement to Eliza, he writes to Laurens again saying:

“In spite of Schuyler’s (Eliza’s) black eyes, I have still a part for the public and another for you.”

Hamilton made dick jokes. He wrote to Laurens about finding a wife making bawdy references to ‘the size of his nose’.… his dick, guys. He was talking about his dick.

Before their famous duel in 1804, Burr was so broke, he asked even Hamilton for help. (Note, they already hated each other at the time.)  Burr came to Hamilton early in the morning and you can imagine the awkwardness of the situation. Like, “Hey bro,  did I wake you? Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, I know we hate each other and stuff, but could you like, help me out here, since you’re so good with money and shizzz?” The best part was, Hamilton did help, and managed to raise 10,000 dollars in cash for Burr…… and still Burr shot him. Savage.

Hamilton impressed Adams’ cabinet and there was a conversation that went a little something like this Adams: Whom shall we appoint Commander-In-Chief? Pickering: Hamilton Adams: lol no, pick someone else Pickering: But sirrrr, Hamilton is fully qualified- Adams: NOT HAMILTON.

While the Reynolds affair was going on and Eliza was away, Hamilton wrote letters urging her to stay far, far away from home as he was “greatly concerned for her health”. Yeahhhh. Riiiiight. You two-faced little LIAR.

To make the above worse, Eliza, despite the affair, did remain wholly devoted to Hamilton. In fact, when she was old, she is supposed to have said, “I am so tired, it is long, I want to see Hamilton.” IT’S OKAY ELIZA, I DIDN’T NEED MY HEART ANYWAY

Voldemort

At the beginning, Even is in a relationship with Sonja but by his own account they’ve been drifting apart which is a shitty situation when you’ve been together since you were 15

Sees Isak at the first day of school and must be immediately gut-punched since he joins effing kosegruppa a full month later just to corner Isak in the bathroom and steal all the paper towels (smooth, Even)

Gets involved with Isak while still with his gf, which is clearly not a terribly great choice, and he has to deal with the fallout of that, but takes responsibility immediately and has a difficult conversation with Sonja so that he can be with Isak properly

Isak then tells him that his life is better without mentally ill people in it

I mean can you IMAGINE. I M A G I N E. you’ve been eyeing boy since first day of school, you broke up with your longterm girlfriend and boy is like “actually tho, mentally ill people need to get far away from me” 

So he pulls away because what’s the option, really? Even can’t wish away his illness and trying to is compromising himself for someone else. but how shitty it must be to feel that rejected for a part of you that you can’t help by someone you desperately want to like all of you for you

He gets texts from Isak but he doesn’t respond because he has to be strong. Nothing good can come of it. He cracks and leaves the drawings, because in a parallell universe where Even isn’t ill, they could be together and he could be what Isak wants or Isak wouldn’t care about his illness at all

Isak is like “stop sending me drawings if you don’t want anything more” and, like. Even has to choose whether to cut all contact or go all in even though he knows Isak doesn’t accept this part of him. 

And he can’t stay away

And he keeps it hidden, tries to desperately because he wants to be with Isak and it’s so good when they’re together and things are great and he feels on top of the world like they can just keep going and going

The Thing happens. And yeah, we know that Isak was hurting and confused and it’s terrible, but Even is the one who lives with it, who probably feels embarrassed and overcome and angry and frustrated

Even spends the week knowing that humans are always alone, like he’s always known

And then he has to tell Isak that he loves him, that he’s sorry, that in an alternate universe they’ll be together because Even would maybe be someone else or Isak would be different and they would be on the same page

“You’re not alone”

Hey so I wrote this poem/description thing for English about the Doctor so I though Tumblr might appreciate it.

                                                 The Doctor 

A wandering man of many faces,

Who flies through time escaping to places

That one would never dare to dream exist;

Traveling in his blue box, the TARDIS.

This last son of Gallifrey seeks to save

The earth, now his home, from total decay,

for his world was destroyed by the time war,

leaving him to return home never more.

He is endangered, the last of his kind,

With his two lonely hearts he tries to find

A companion to accompany him,

Though the chances of survival are slim,

For those who choose to travel by his side,

So for his rules they had better abide.

             The doctor is old and very clever,

He has the power to live forever,

This Time Lord is a millennium old,

He has witnessed time born and time grow cold,

Regeneration is how he cheats death,

When the Doctor dies, he’ll draw his first breath

In a new body of a different man

With a different face but the same plan

To travel space and time and set things right

But even now as I attempt to write

This one thing I cannot answer for you,

This final morsel of a peanut butter and jelly almost started a war between myself and The Kid. He’s a bantam weight minus thirty pounds. The kid lives on cheeseburgers, PB&J and the cries of his little sister and it’s a chore every night to get him to ingest anything off his plate.

So he’s down to the last bite of sandwich and the octogenarian Italian woman in him said “finish the last bite” and he refused and I’m like “come on it’s one bite” and I’m not sure if it was spite or lack of appetite (after just eating the rest of the sandwich) but he just wouldn’t eat the damn piece and in my mind I’m yelling “EAT THAT FUCKING PIECE OF SANDWICH” but the health conscious, exerciser, prone-to-overeat person inside asked “why does he have to eat that?”

Am I trying to prove a point? Trying to get as many calories in him as possible? Waging a war where there’s technically no winner?

So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?

Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.

Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.

Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.

Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).

Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.

Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.

Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.

Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.

Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter. 

Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.

Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.

Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.

Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.

Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.

Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.

Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.

Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.

Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.

Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.

Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing. 

Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.

Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.

The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.”  Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted. 

The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of  Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway.

The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.

I carry this water bottle around on purpose because I know the kids will ask me why I have a pink one. This is how every convo has gone:

Kids: Mr.C Why do you have a pink water bottle?

Me: Because I like pink, why?

Kids: Pink is for girls

Me: Why?

Kids: ummmmmmm

Me: Do you know why it’s for girls?

Kids: No it just is

That’s when I go into a brief lesson about how pink is JUST a color (I am the art teacher so they think I am the authority on colors) for everyone.