Just A Journal

He advanced, close enough that the threads on his rich robes could be counted by the naked eye. After a furtive glance over his shoulder, he dropped his voice to a desperate whisper and said, “Could you… could you do it again? Please?”

“Not if they disagree with you.”

“They can do that?!” He licked his lips, trembling with excitement. “And voting! You say I… you say I could lose?!”

“Yeah, uh. And you probably would.”

“Or you could just… not have me executed.”

“You’ve ruined my gown,” said the space emperor, regarding the growing purple stain on his sleeve. “These fibers were harvested on Lutoya-29, a planet that was demolished six units ago. There is no other like it in the galaxy. I could have you harvested for washing-water for this.” He looked up and met the hero’s eyes, his thoughtful expression melting into a delighted grin. “But I don’t have to, do I?”

“No, Your Incandecense,” whispered the woman. Her sweat-beaded skin had grown translucent with fear.

“I don’t even have to have you killed at all!” he exclaimed. “I could… I could…” he cast around the chamber, as though searching for inspiration in the lavish furnishings.

“Please, Your Incandecense.” The woman’s voice was low and unsteady, but her gaze remained fixed on the floor. “I’ll do anything, please, forgive—”

“Anything! You’re right!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, stamping his feet in a little dance. “I could do anything! In fact—” he reached over the table and clasped the hero’s hand in his own. “Nothing is anything! I could do nothing! Nothing at all!” He giggled merrily and then froze, gingerly releasing the hero’s hand and leaning back. He tapped one bejeweled finger against his temple and gave an exaggerated wink. “Oh, right. Consent.”

The serving-woman’s eyes flickered to the hero’s for a moment, nervous questions burning in them. The hero gave a barely-imperceptible shrug and a very tiny, reassuring smile. The emperor did not seem to notice.

“Is there more wine?” he asked. “Splendid. Please. Do it again.”

“What…?” The woman’s skin flashed an alarming yellow.

The emperor gestured enthusiastically between himself and the crystal pitcher. “The wine. My gown. I think you should reacquaint them.”

“He wants you to spill the wine on him again,” explained the hero. “No, really. He’s, uh… he’s having an interesting day.”

“None of this seems right,” he confessed to his wardrober, after rejecting the seventh gown he was presented with. It was deep blue silk, studded all over with crystals that glinted and sparkled like a night sky. “It’s just not working for me today.”

“That is one of the finest gowns in the galaxy, Your Incandescence,” said the wardrober. “It is an accurate starmap of the constellations as seen from your boyhood home, rivaled in beauty and quality only by your other raiments. But perhaps this is more to your impeccable tastes–” It offered an eighth gown, a trailing cascade of iridescent blue-green fabric layered with shimmering, diaphanous beetle wings. “A species of rare insect went extinct for the construction of this one,” it said. “It was considered sacred to the inhabitants of that world. Wearing this gown declares your might and majesty to the galaxy.” 

The space emperor pursed his lips. “Hmm,” he said. “Not that one, I think.” There was an unfamiliar twisting sensation in his gut when he looked at the gown.

“It is not to my pleasure!” cried the space emperor, lashing out and knocking the platter to the floor. The attendant winced as the tureen shattered and bent to clean it up. “I want to go back!”

“That would be inadvisable,” said the war magnate, rolling her eyes. “It is not yet safe for you to return planetside; there may be traps or other assassins lying in wait. I’m sure your friend is fine.” 

The doctor would have to wait. He had more important business to attend to. 

He ran his thumb along the special weapon the General had given him. It was simple in design, as unlike the ornate ceremonial laser he always wore at his hip as it was possible to be. He didn’t understand exactly how it functioned, but he didn’t need to; all that mattered was that it worked. The General assured him that it would be a most fitting punishment. 

The General bowed his head and held out his arm. The space emperor took it numbly and allowed himself to be led from the room, away from the acrid smoke rising from the dead robot. “You must forgive me, Your Incandescence. I will bear the blame for this… unfortunate oversight. Walk with me, if you please, and I will explain.”

“How kind of you to join me,” he forced out, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to think about the way the muscles in the other man’s arms flexed when he tested his restraints. “I hope you are enjoying our imperial hospitality.” It was not the self-assured and dangerous voice he had planned to use, but something strained and uneven.

“Not really, no. This kind of stuff isn’t my cup of tea,” said the Lutoyan dryly. “Speaking of which… is that a coffee machine?”

“What?” The space emperor’s eyes shot open. “No.”

“Tell them to release me and stand down,” the Lutoyan said into his ear. “Now.”

There were no new stories because there had only ever been one worth telling. The first story, the only story, of which all others were merely variations, was simple: a hunter pursues its prey. 

The rest was ornament.

Some questionable comments from people working on this reclamation project: Imagine being in the mining business, leaving an isolated First Nation with one of the worst and most toxic mining sites, seeing the First Nation organizing to replant vegetation, and then seeing it as a business opportunity and talking about it like this:

—

In southeastern Yukon, the Faro, Ketza and Wolverine mines have all seen their owners go bankrupt, leaving behind contamination and hefty cleanup tabs. Here, the community of Ross River, which is less than 180 kilometres away from all three mines, sees an opportunity. The native plant nursery will be the first of its kind in Yukon, according to the project’s organizers, with a scale and mandate of supporting major reclamation projects that sets it apart from other nurseries in the territory. […] But it isn’t only the delinquent miners and abandoned contaminated sites of today that Ross River has in its sights. Mining companies still operating in Yukon, or still working towards opening their doors, will be the reclamation projects of the future and an opportunity to get it right. […] Mining company B/M/C Minerals is already on board with the idea of a native plant nursery for industry, contributing $35,000 for a feasibility study of the project (the Canadian Northern Economic Development Agency contributed another $80,000, while the community of Ross River kicked in the rest, but declined to share the total amount). BMC’s Kudz Ze Kayah project, a proposed open-pit and underground mine roughly 115 kilometres south of Ross River, is working its way through the environmental assessment process right now. […] “We’re not looking to do charity here,” Noel said. “We are looking to create a business that is profitable, that gets us involved in a meaningful and sustainable way. We’re responding to an opportunity, more than anything, and we’re going to do everything we can to incorporate what the community needs and wants.”

i am not a little boy pretending to be an airplane in the back of the classroom. I was never allowed to be, because I was a little girl. i was a little girl who couldn’t sit still but i had to because ladies sit still while the boys shout and fidget in the background. i was a little girl who got left behind when recess ended because i was so engrossed in my small rock garden i didn’t hear the bell; i was a little girl who grew up smart enough to take precalculus, but couldn’t for the life of me remember my times tables; i was a little girl who got so angry and didn’t know how to stop it (“you can control your emotions!” my dad told me; “don’t bottle it up,” my mom said; “scream into a pillow, write it down, take deep breaths” everyone told me, and none of it helped); i was a little girl who lay awake every night terrified i’d forgotten to do something due tomorrow; i was a little girl who couldn’t make friends because socializing was hell because if i made one wrong move, received one negative response, i might as well have set myself on fire; i was a little girl who took pride in being the Weird Girl, because i had to; i was a little girl with adhd 

It took until college for me to get a definitive diagnosis of ADHD, and even then I second guess it. I can focus on video games for 18+ hours, with no breaks, not even for food. That’s not inattentive! Doesn’t matter if I can only focus on a few very specific games or that what’s really happening is hyper fixation. I can focus therefore no ADHD. My classmates comment on how surprised they are that I didn’t make a lot of noise in class from fidgeting? Everyone fidgets, still not ADHD. Literally feel like my brain is being crushed in a voice whenever I try to study or work? I just don’t have the discipline to get my work done, not ADHD. Want to start crying cause you can’t focus and what your learning/working on just does not make sense? Suck it up, still not ADHD.

“Everyone experiences those things”

I got diagnosed with ADHD when I was seventeen years old. I was almost done with school by then. but that didn’t matter. we got me on meds, but they made me so sick I couldn’t eat anything and I was almost a zombie, no emotions to even struggle to regulate. (which when I had issues with that I was just “over emotional” and “a crybaby”) so we got me on new meds, and I think they worked. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t feel any different. I still hyper fixated on english and reading only now it’s fantasy and fiction because the world I see is too bleak and rattled with horrible things that my mind of anxiety, depression, and ADHD can barely handle.

now I’m twenty and off all medication and not being out back on because “it’s all in your head”. I’m twenty and just learning that the sinking feeling and tightness in my chest when I even THINK I’ve made someone close to my heart remotely upset is something that comes with ADHD that I wasn’t told about.

“co-quarantined with an abuser? worried about having to self-isolate from #coronavirus in a dangerous home situation? 

Please reach out – contact @ ndvh National Domestic Violence Hotline: 

CALL 1-800-799-7233

TTY 1-800-787-3224

Chat at thehotline.org” 

Terminator technology has not hit the shelves in most places. If you put these boys in the ground, they will grow and multiply. You can get enough soup beans to seed I don’t even know how much ground for like a dollar.

And man, you need to get on some beans. There’s a reason beans are cheap food: They’re one of the best staples in the whole world in terms of effort versus yield; especially the red ones, which grow in neat little bushes. You can have beans for ages with very little work. What’s more, bean plants are basically magic; they have a symbiotic relationship with nitrogen-fixing bacteria, which promotes soil health and can help revitalize damaged soil.

https://twitter.com/coff33detective/status/1271463582312673281

This one’s pretty simple. It’s meant to be left in the room to absorb and cleanse energy, my mom showed it to me: 

What you need: 

A bowl 

Water (moon water, river water, and rain water is a plus. I wouldn’t use sea water, just because it starts to get a little stinky) 

Sea Salt or Pink Himalayan Salt 

White crystals (if you use selenite, careful not to get it wet!) 

White candle 

Additional cleansing agent, such as sound or smoke cleansing. 

Instructions: 

Cleanse your space first, however works best for you. I use palo santo and Tibetan singing bowl sounds today. Leave this going throughout the spell. 

Light your white candle 

Set your crystals around your bowl, as seen in the picture. 

Poor water into your bowl

Mix in the salt until it is dissolved. 

As you mix, keep your intent in mind. Mix counterclockwise while visualizing negative energy dissipating, and clockwise while visualizing an energetically cleansed, refreshing space. Depending on the type of salt, this could take a while. I used raw pink Himalayan salt.  

Once it is mixed, place this bowl either in a corner of the room, at the entrance of the room, in the very center, OR under your bed. I always place mine under the bed tho.  

Leave it to do it’s job for a few days. When the water is murky or the salt is starting to dry on the edges, it is done. 

Dispose of the water either in another body of salt water, at the base of a tree (here is Florida, roots are very salt tolerant), or down the drain or toilet. 

Addition: Like many other Hispanics, I use eggs for cleansing negative energy, and adding an egg to this bowl has worked pretty well for me before. If you use an egg, make sure you place the bowl within your line of sight, so you don’t leave it to rot. 

**don’t dump this on your houseplants or garden. Salt water does not allow for osmosis through the plant tissues. It will dehydrate and eventually kill your plants. Many Florida trees are salt tolerant, as our soil is pretty salty already. Look up if trees in your area are salt tolerant as well before dumping. If they’re not it won’t kill them, but, rude. 

Fox News hasn’t just been making up stories—it’s been manufacturing images and video. As the Seattle Times reports, Fox has “digitally altered” images to make the situation in the area seem dire. That includes putting together elements from multiple images to create a misleading collage, lifting signs and symbols from one area to impose them on another, and it means that many of the images Fox is using to present the image of chaos in Seattle … aren’t even from Seattle.

https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/13/media/seattle-fox-news-autonomous-zone-protest/index.html

https://www.rollingstone.com/politics/politics-news/fox-news-alters-protest-images-video-again-1014675/

Just for clarity, living off foraged fruit for ethical reasons would still be veganism, because you’d still be rejecting animal exploitation. But, doing this or managing to grow all of your own food would mean you don’t have to buy from companies where pesticides are used, unfair labour practices, practices which disturb/kill native animals, you don’t have to consume from what are mostly harmful corporations, you don’t have to take part in a capitalist society, support supermarkets etc. There are many impacts of plant farming, albeit significantly less than animal agriculture, they are still there. 

Acti-veg is right, most people can't do this, and veganism is more accessible. But it's nice to see.

I also recommend this documentary for everyone, about the main problems in plant food production and how we can solve it. Rosario Dawson does the voice over. It claims we have 60 years of farmable soil left if we don't change anything. You can help in your own life by composting, growing as much of your own food as you can, and supporting local farmers.

https://youtu.be/0pBYu4U525Y

If you want to learn more about him, there’s a great documentary on him called Brother Outsider: The Life of Bayard Rustin