I feel this would have been much better if I hadâve been able to finish it when I started but I was genuinely struggling to keep my eyes open (I havenât had that in years so it was weird as hell).
Thereâs a decent amount of swearing, implications of vomiting, and basically either a panic or anxiety attack - Iâm still a little spotty on the difference.
-
Fuck.
One moment Reno was fine, the next he found himself stumbling towards the bathroom as if heâd been possessed. The air was growing thinner with every step as the Turk tried to regulate his heavy breathing on his fervent journey.
With a blink, Reno found himself knelt in front of the toilet. He didnât recall entering the room though the distant ringing of a slammed door danced through his skull. Everything had been fine during his time off from his last mission, so why was he suddenly feeling awful now?
Renoâs head pounded as he panted over the toilet bowl, fighting his growing nausea. The world spun as he lost his battle, throat burning as lungs cried for air. He sobbed as he slumped against the wall and the pounding in his head finally ceased.
Why now? He was fine for the last few days. Why was the plate separation incident getting to him now?
Fuck, Reno felt like a mess.
Fingers buried themselves amongst flat locks of bright red hair and gripped them so hard Renoâs scalp stung as the Turk curled up against the wall with his ankles crossed. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fought in vain against another sob and the pounding headache returned.
From the plate separation incident to now, Reno had been stuffing down and ignoring everything to do with it, even going as far as to ignore reports regarding the incident, and he was doing well until he caught a whiff of smoke through an open window and everything surfaced so quickly. So many deaths - so much blood on his hands - despite attempts to evacuate as many people as possible. A memory of the estimated death toll popped into his head: at least fifty thousand.
Fifty-fucking thousand people were unaccounted for. Minimum.
His only coping mechanism was no longer working. Everything was flooding back as Renoâs aching chest heaved and his insides threatened to rebel yet again.
Reno wasnât a begging man but as everything came crashing down upon him, he couldnât stop the repeating âpleaseâ as his eyes stared at his crossed ankles.
The world spun again and a pathetically soft ânoâ passed through quivering lips before the spinning stopped and he barely felt the presence of a gentle squeeze around his shoulders.
Where was he again? He wasnât at his apartment, was he?
Registering the presence as familiar and safe, Reno slowly eased himself against the warm presence until he was firmly pressed against them. His grip on his hair relaxed and he draped an arm over his knees with a shuddering breath.
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âDown the hall! Just one knock and the doctor will be with you in a moment!â Amurel said, barely suppressing the giggle in their voice.
They waved him down the hall and, as he did every time he visited the clinic, followed their directions. He knocked.Â
âComing!â A female voice called and the door opened not five seconds later, offering a Raphael, leaning forward:Â âWhat can I do for y-â
Her eyes went wide. She stood up straight and then straighter, squaring her shoulders and and taking a deep breath. If her skin tone would be any lighter he would say she blushed, her hand clawing at the door knob.
âFuck!â
Asmodeus blinked. And then laughed: âWhat was that, dear angel? A wish? An invitation?â It was an automatic answer, âdeadpanâ is an inflection not used every day when someone said âfuckâ in his presence.
And Raphael scrunched up her nose, managed to look apologetic. The flour on her clothes, hair and everything probably helped. She said: âThat... no. I... just realized itâs Thursday. Of course itâs Thursday. I knew it is. But now I have to make cake. And... I apparently forgot the timeâ For a moment, she was silent and stared to the floor, Asmodeus waited for her to continue, because it could only be entertaining, whatever came next.Â
Raphael nodded with a determined face and then looked straight at him: âItâs probably for the best, too. I am told my cake decoration is outrageous and possibly a breech of the geneva convention - which it definitely is not, I read the document. But... I think impeccable taste would help, anyway! And since you have it in...â She looked him up and down. â... everything, I could use our help!â
Reaching behind the door, she grabbed an apron and held it out to him:Â âWe could combine talking with cake. And you could... tell me the last interesting cake story you had? Iâm sure there are a few. At least as a start. And I can do something with my hands that is not clicking my penâ
With every word, Asmodeus brows rose a little higher. And he almost snorted when she frowned at the pen as if it had personally wronged her.Â
Whatever was bothering the good doctor - Raphael babbled too much to be entirely alright - he could make a cake. Why not. He grabbed the apron: âI wanted to offer to come back later. But Iâve seen your last creation... and maybe it can use a bit of oversightâ
âThank you!,â she grinned, wide, and turned back to the dough, swing in her step.Â
Apparently, the king of hell would make cake. And by the smell of it, cherries were involved.
Event: A Philosophical Journey Through A Concept (Why)
The first half of this book had merit, the second half not so much. â¨â¨
There were so many things that did not make sense, or were directly contradicting. Was this a style of writing to make one point stronger, or was it just trying to overachieve? It could be the subject matter that was being discussed. As it was a different type of reasoning for how and why events are realized. The concept itself was rather confusing, but I felt that the second of half of the book was just listing examples instead of like the first half that took more time to explain itself.
The purpose of the text, from what I gathered, was that the creation/realization of the event is not linear, but could also be circular. (Or just an odd paradox explanation, as provided via "it is at the same time only theology which can provide the frame enabling us to somehow approach the scope of this catastrophe â the fiasco of God is still the fiasco of God." pg.111)". The use of sex and sexual desire as a prime example or something referenced so many times did not make sense to me. Why was it so needed? I figured it was because I was looking at the text trying to understand the event from something I could use for class rather than philological. The use falling/being in love as an example however, made sense to me in explaining the situation. The topic of fantasy was interesting, but I wish was touched more upon. It was used as an example far too many times, yet I felt it needed more explanation. Also more building of examples of non-sexual fantasy, which I believe is a thing. The author uses the âcakeâ metaphor to explain about how fantasy creates itself or to give shape to an event, yet then goes to say that all fantasy is derived from something else.I did not understand the need to validate Freud or to use him so much in the text. I can understand using him as a base, as something to build upon, but as used as a truth so many times, it raises questions. When discussed in class it makes more sense why Freud is used as an example/validating source, but I wish it explained in the text why it was so important to use Freud and not some other person. These few things were what really bothered me about the text, which made it hard to wade through. In all, I can see the importance of the theory of an event now.
If you live anywhere near a big city, you know what a problem rush hour can be.  It's annoying, it slows everybody down, it's an unproductive waste of time.  And sure, public transit can help with that, but often it just moves the problem elsewhere - you end up crammed into a train or a bus without anywhere to sit, and now in addition to being inconvenienced physically by having to stand for a long trip to work, you end up also being inconvenienced temporally, since you can only leave the city when there is a train going your direction.  It's a mess.  So we should find a way to solve it.  Obviously reducing the number of people going in, or more specifically, reducing the number of cars, helps.  Also, increasing the capacity of the roads, although that is expensive and bad for the environment and tends to result in simply more traffic after a few years.  We need something else.
My suggestion is that cities with this problem put out a guideline. Â No a rule, not a law, nothing that is rigorously enforced. Â Just a guideline, a suggestion, a "hey, how about giving this a try". Â I suggest that any building that have people who work a 9 to 5 job in the city instead go on one of two plans: those in odd numbered buildings start work on or before 8:45am and finish work on or before 4:45pm, while those who work in even numbered buildings start work on or after 9:15am and finish work on or after 5:15pm. Â The basic idea is to make it so that there are fewer people trying to get into or out of the city at any given time, and stretch rush hour out over more time. Â The idea is to try to keep the times that people come and go fairly close to the times that they are used to, but far enough apart that the congestion on the roadways is reduced. Â My hope is that a system like this, combined with encouraging public transit and increasing the capacity of the streets, would allow those who start work at the earlier time would actually be able to get up at the same time they currently do, since they wouldn't have to sit in traffic as long, and those who leave work late would get home at the same time they currently do, since they also wouldn't have to sit in traffic as long. Â Because any time sitting in traffic is generally wasted time, filled with frustration and annoyance, when it could be spent at home with loved ones.
