Well, this whole magic sword thing was a lot easier than I expected. I just treated the sword parts and the human parts as necessary. Now, if this kid would polish or sharpen their sword once in a while, that'd be great. I pulled a fresh batch of butter cookies out of the oven and let them cool. There's no way Alex won't eat these. I'm probably going to have organic food moms breathing down my neck for the next month, but, since Alex sometimes won't eat at all, I needed to get some calories in her.
I went back to repairing a bow. The thing was simple and had some vine engravings, which usually represent longevity and prosperity. The bowstring had snapped right in the center, presumably from excessive tension. Generally, people who tighten their bowstrings too much are of a high-strung (no pun intended) nature while those who do not do it enough or at all are more laid-back. I threaded a new bowstring and tensed it to perfection. This person should be out having sniper duels with skeletons in no time.
I checked the clock. Assuming that the severe wind warning is just another overreaction on the media's part, Ali should arrive in no time. I put some cookies on a plate for Alex and took them up to her room. She took a bite. We'll visit another psychologist in about a week. The time window will allow Alex to sort through her emotions and articulate them more effectively. Outside, the wind picked up and roared angrily.
I found Ali waiting outside the door. Liz was as good as new, but, to prevent further problems, I threw in polish and an anti-rust treatment free of charge. They took the regalia and left, leaving me with a relatively fat wad of cash. Considering that the psychologist doesn't accept money from the blockchain, this would come in handy.
Friday, March 31, 2017
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Lost and Won (Mark)
I cannot believe how stupid people can be.
First, I had to deal with a fight that broke out between my students. This wasn't just a little dispute over a broken reed, but it was a full on hair-pulling face-scratching brawl between two female flutes. Anyone who isn't afraid of a girl fight has obviously never seen one. When girls fight, they pull out all the stops. They throw water, scream, and kick the girl who's down. Having taught high school band for four years now, I've learned about many different kinds of fights.
From what I could tell, these girls weren't fighting over anything in particular. They were just on edge in the same space and somehow set each other off. Here in Mineplex High School, it happens all the time. After dragging them to administration, I went back to teaching the songs: Colonial Song and Foundry.
Our stellar low brass would have carried us through Colonial Song if not for a flat second flute and a saxophone that was playing an entirely different chord progression. After checking some notes and making sure our new contrabass clarinetist wasn't going to pass out, we ran some parts again to make sure everything was good. It was. Our piccolo player took a tacet for this one.
Next came Foundry. One of my first clarinet's reeds decided to just completely snap; the thing broke cleanly into two parts. Considering that this clarinetist took excellent care of their reeds, this came as a surprise. After changing reeds, we ran the beginning and some percussion stuff again. For some reason, they weren't all together. Having been a percussionist myself, I knew exactly what was wrong: They weren't listening to each other.
"Why aren't you guys listening to each other?"
"We are."
"Doesn't sound like it. Play it again." Again, they had the same disconnect. What has gotten into the percussion section? Normally, they can blend their sounds like butter, even on a sight read. After the bell rang, they all left except for Catalina, my aide and contrabass clarinetist.
"Mr. Navoa," I handed the originals to Catalina for her to copy. "I've been following #Caitgate for a while." Oh no. Not this again. "I need to do this project for my journalism class on a current event. May I ask a few questions?"
"Go right ahead." I was prepared to answer anything.
"What is your stance on Caitgate?"
"Caitlin Netherfield was harassed into suicide. I have screenshots and URLs to prove it." Currently, the organization had turned towards pretending to sympathize with those who mourned her death.
"Can you show me?"
"Some of the things they said I cannot show to students, but I do have a few that may interest you." As Catalina read the screenshots, she covered her mouth in shock.
"Who would do such a thing?"
"These people, I guess. It's a battle lost and won."
"Why do you say that?"
"The battle's lost because a key figure in our lives passed on in such a horrible way, but it's also won because it exposes something about the organization that not a lot of people are aware of."
"Thank you for your time." Catalina took the copies and left. I went on Twitter to find that some idiot spammed me with borderline nonsensical DMs.
If you're going to pick a side, pick the right side! You side with Caitlin and her edgelord friends!
Quit pretending that you didn't see any problems with her opinions.
You're an ableist oppressive homophobic bigot.
I'll dox you if you don't side with us.
We'll do it to your students too.
Good. Keep going. You're shooting yourself in the foot. I took screenshots as they went on.
You can't see that your privilege is a problem because you're committing serious microaggressions with it.
What are those?
You enforce the gender binary by tone policing.
You should be ashamed of yourself.
I checked their biography and, sure enough, this user identified themselves as a nonbinary girl with xirself pronouns and an anarcho-communist totalitarian. They were 28 years old too. Despite my initial impulses, I decided not to respond.
Again, I've lost and won.
First, I had to deal with a fight that broke out between my students. This wasn't just a little dispute over a broken reed, but it was a full on hair-pulling face-scratching brawl between two female flutes. Anyone who isn't afraid of a girl fight has obviously never seen one. When girls fight, they pull out all the stops. They throw water, scream, and kick the girl who's down. Having taught high school band for four years now, I've learned about many different kinds of fights.
From what I could tell, these girls weren't fighting over anything in particular. They were just on edge in the same space and somehow set each other off. Here in Mineplex High School, it happens all the time. After dragging them to administration, I went back to teaching the songs: Colonial Song and Foundry.
Our stellar low brass would have carried us through Colonial Song if not for a flat second flute and a saxophone that was playing an entirely different chord progression. After checking some notes and making sure our new contrabass clarinetist wasn't going to pass out, we ran some parts again to make sure everything was good. It was. Our piccolo player took a tacet for this one.
Next came Foundry. One of my first clarinet's reeds decided to just completely snap; the thing broke cleanly into two parts. Considering that this clarinetist took excellent care of their reeds, this came as a surprise. After changing reeds, we ran the beginning and some percussion stuff again. For some reason, they weren't all together. Having been a percussionist myself, I knew exactly what was wrong: They weren't listening to each other.
"Why aren't you guys listening to each other?"
"We are."
"Doesn't sound like it. Play it again." Again, they had the same disconnect. What has gotten into the percussion section? Normally, they can blend their sounds like butter, even on a sight read. After the bell rang, they all left except for Catalina, my aide and contrabass clarinetist.
"Mr. Navoa," I handed the originals to Catalina for her to copy. "I've been following #Caitgate for a while." Oh no. Not this again. "I need to do this project for my journalism class on a current event. May I ask a few questions?"
"Go right ahead." I was prepared to answer anything.
"What is your stance on Caitgate?"
"Caitlin Netherfield was harassed into suicide. I have screenshots and URLs to prove it." Currently, the organization had turned towards pretending to sympathize with those who mourned her death.
"Can you show me?"
"Some of the things they said I cannot show to students, but I do have a few that may interest you." As Catalina read the screenshots, she covered her mouth in shock.
"Who would do such a thing?"
"These people, I guess. It's a battle lost and won."
"Why do you say that?"
"The battle's lost because a key figure in our lives passed on in such a horrible way, but it's also won because it exposes something about the organization that not a lot of people are aware of."
"Thank you for your time." Catalina took the copies and left. I went on Twitter to find that some idiot spammed me with borderline nonsensical DMs.
If you're going to pick a side, pick the right side! You side with Caitlin and her edgelord friends!
Quit pretending that you didn't see any problems with her opinions.
You're an ableist oppressive homophobic bigot.
I'll dox you if you don't side with us.
We'll do it to your students too.
Good. Keep going. You're shooting yourself in the foot. I took screenshots as they went on.
You can't see that your privilege is a problem because you're committing serious microaggressions with it.
What are those?
You enforce the gender binary by tone policing.
You should be ashamed of yourself.
I checked their biography and, sure enough, this user identified themselves as a nonbinary girl with xirself pronouns and an anarcho-communist totalitarian. They were 28 years old too. Despite my initial impulses, I decided not to respond.
Again, I've lost and won.
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
The Dream (Landon)
Sensing that I needed to be there, I pushed through the crowds. Surprisingly, no one tried to fight me, not even the police. Although the school was mostly a charred mess, a few residual flames burned. Somehow, I knew to follow the flames.
I found a boy with red hair who looked to be about 15. He was dressed in all black with a bandanna around his nose and mouth. Weeping penitently and bitterly, I wondered if he was mourning his friends not knowing if they were dead or alive. When I found the bow at his side, I realized that he had done the deed. He scrounged around for an arrow, presumably to plant it through his head.
I approached him slowly and got down on his level. Upon looking more closely at the boy, I realized that he was my past self. I put my hand on his shoulder and he did not flinch. Instead, he clung to me and didn't seem to keen on letting go.
"Let's get out of here. This place is a mess." I led my past self out of the building and into the light.
As I led him out, the crowd began to fight us. Someone knocked past me down and, oddly enough, I felt compelled to defend him. I told him to get out while he could and took hit after hit. Leaving the bandanna behind, he escaped. My vision started blurring and fading to black until I finally woke up.
Usually, in my past self dreams, I end up arguing with and fighting with 15 year old Landon and he usually ended up trying to kill me. Sometimes, he succeeded. At other times, I managed to get away. Ever since I started my presentation research, I began to realize why talking about Havencraft from my perspective mattered to me. Not only did I want to debunk rumors that I'm a sociopath, I want to help students like me who are going through similar things I want through. No student should feel the need to open fire on their classmates.
I was taught about preventing weapon violence in schools, but it was all the same witch hunt kind of stuff. As an example of what vigilante justice does, a student was expelled from DesiredCraft High School for listening to the song World Domination How-To by Neru. All the student did was listen to the song. Staff claimed that that the song "encouraged weapon violence" when that's not even the predominant focus of the song. All the incident told me was that the fine arts department, no less, had no idea how to read a composer's intentions. Tsuji and Azuma, the characters in the video, were two students who felt that they had no place in life. They were worried that they were going that things weren't going to end for them, that they would end up stuck with some boring desk job bullied by bosses and coworkers just like in high school. The flying desks are just symbols of Tsuji and Azuma breaking out of their hopelessness and realizing that they can break the cycle.
Caitlin was my Azuma. She, too, felt lonely, out of place, and was at odds with the world. I knew it the moment I saw her face. At first, I took out some unchecked anger and insecurity on her. I saw an adversary, another version of myself in Caitlin. Eventually, she got the guts to confront me...to my face...in front of other people. No one's ever done that for me before. Thanks to her, I had a fresh start. I had the opportunity to at least try to understand my 15 year old self and not fight him.
Checking the calendar, I realized that it was my birthday: March 28. I am 22 years old today. I have a Gudetama T-shirt on and my life is of reasonable quality. I evaded the death penalty by a hair and now I'm making something good out of my life and serving something greater than myself. As I finished reading the article on sociopathy, I heard the doorbell ring. This had better not be more death threat mail.
A delivery person handed me a cake. Hmm...cake? I'd hate for it to be poisoned, but, if I died eating cake, I died eating cake. On top, it featured some art of Tsuji and Mamoru from Neru's songs. Wow. Someone knows my tastes very well. I looked at the description on the receipt. The cake itself was lemon on top and chocolate on the bottom. Those are my two favorite cake flavors. I can't say which one I like more, though.
"Thank you so much." I accepted the cake, left a generous tip of two emeralds, and took picture of the cake with my phone. After that, I read the note. It was in Helvetica this time. Is it my mysterious secret admirer again?
Will you be my Tsuji? -Mamoru
Hmm. That's pretty cryptic. Was it a Twitter troll? Nah. A Twitter troll wouldn't know where I live--or give me something this nice, for that matter. I looked at the back. There was nothing else, so I couldn't tell who "Mamoru" was...at least, not without a little reasoning.
Between the presence of the note, and the fact that "Mamoru" knew where I lived, I narrowed it down to two options: Steve or Mark. That left me to look more at the cake itself, which had blue frosting around the border. It was a signature Steve move to use symbolic colors, but Mark was familiar enough with Steve that he could imitate him pretty well. The blue frosting could have been a Mark move as well. I looked at the sprinkles on the frosting border: purple hearts, blue sand sugar, green smiles, and red flames. That was awfully specific. Mark wouldn't have gone to the trouble to incorporate this level of symbolism into a cake...or would he? The doorbell rang again.
"Someone decided to order you a none pizza with left beef." The other delivery person paused. "Oh, and this person also ordered a giant bottle of pink lemonade for you. Whoever they are, they must have a great sense of humor." I left another tip and found a note with the pizza. It was handwritten.
I think my friend here likes you. I'll give you three clues to this person's identity. If nothing else, there was a good chance that Mark sent the none pizza with left beef. Steve is much more tasteful than that. If Steve sent me a pizza, he would at least send me one that had sauce and cheese.
- Male
- Plays a brass instrument
- Band director
Those aren't very helpful clues! There are many people who could fit that description. I unfolded the note some more.
Ha! Just kidding. Here are the real clues.
Ha! Just kidding. Here are the real clues.
- Likes the color blue
- Famous
- Ex-violin prodigy
So it was Steve! I didn't know how to feel. Did he feel the same way about me? My heart started racing and my face must have turned as red as my hair. Impulsively, I took a bite from the none pizza with left beef and thought of the future I could have with him.
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
With the Orchestra (Steve)
"Um, Mr. Lowell." It was Lisette. I let her ask her question. "Do you want vibrato on my solo?" What kind of question is that? Of course I want vibrato on that violin solo! The problem I have with most violin solos is the lack of vibrato.
"Yes. As much as you can." How do I turn a shy, but rather talented freshman into an excellent concertmaster? By bolstering her confidence, that's how. "You set the example for the rest of the violins."
This move will get me accused of nepotism, but Lisette was honestly the best out of all the violins. Not only did she play well, she had a good heart. I interviewed ten potential concertmaster candidates and most of them, from what I would tell, just wanted something to slap something on a resumé. Looking back, I remembered how unbearably arrogant I was in the past and I didn't want my students to have to suffer under that kind of leadership.
Lisette played again, this time with vibrato. We rejoined the others in time and I led them as a conductor. Alongside me, Lisette would lead with her violin. After running through and refining our solo viola (Kenji)'s entrance, I fixed some bowing problems in the cellos and the basses dragging so much that everyone was a measure behind. Kyle skipped one of his classes to rehearse the timpani and chimes parts with us. As usual, I made sure he didn't drown anyone out.
"I just want an excuse to get out of pre-calc." Kyle laughed.
Don't we all?
"Yes. As much as you can." How do I turn a shy, but rather talented freshman into an excellent concertmaster? By bolstering her confidence, that's how. "You set the example for the rest of the violins."
This move will get me accused of nepotism, but Lisette was honestly the best out of all the violins. Not only did she play well, she had a good heart. I interviewed ten potential concertmaster candidates and most of them, from what I would tell, just wanted something to slap something on a resumé. Looking back, I remembered how unbearably arrogant I was in the past and I didn't want my students to have to suffer under that kind of leadership.
Lisette played again, this time with vibrato. We rejoined the others in time and I led them as a conductor. Alongside me, Lisette would lead with her violin. After running through and refining our solo viola (Kenji)'s entrance, I fixed some bowing problems in the cellos and the basses dragging so much that everyone was a measure behind. Kyle skipped one of his classes to rehearse the timpani and chimes parts with us. As usual, I made sure he didn't drown anyone out.
"I just want an excuse to get out of pre-calc." Kyle laughed.
Don't we all?
Monday, March 20, 2017
Not Forgotten (Landon)
I opened my door to find these two people just standing, staring at me blankly. It was raining. Obviously, if they didn't intend to do something important, they wouldn't be here.
"What do you want?" That deters a lot of the people who come to give me death threats. On the other hand, if they're radical true crime fans who want me to have their babies, I'm slamming the door in their faces. They looked at each other and decided to introduce themselves.
"I'm Juliette Kurfield with Daggerfall News."
"And?" Is this TMZ in disguise? It better not be. Juliette and her assistant looked too poised to be TMZ people.
"I'm here to interview you." Sounds good.
"Okay, but you must adhere to one condition: You cannot release any of this to TMZ, The Enquirer, or any similar "journalism" of that sort."
"Noted. I was sent to conduct research on school shootings." No. Not this. Anything but this. I started to smell smoke and burning flesh as the memories came back.
"Are you familiar with the Havencraft High School shooting?" Believe me, I was.
"Yes, I am."
"Why do you think Landon LaCoste did what he did?" This was getting worse and worse. Other than declaring my love for Steve wearing nothing but a rainbow loincloth, there were a thousand things I'd rather do than answer that question.
On one hand, I could just answer the question like anyone else and say "I don't know" or I could be honest and give others a perspective that seems to be a missing link. To be honest, I didn't really know why I did it myself. I guess it was a snowballing of a lot of things.
"Well, lucky for you, I am Landon LaCoste." My name sounded disgusting, but I put on the old Landon charm because I was useless without it. "It was a lot of things, but, mainly, I was sick of being pushed around by my peers and teachers. I thought I could show them that I was not to be messed with. I started stockpiling arrows and studying advanced combat techniques so that I could prove that, for once, I could do something right and maybe...not be forgotten." That made more sense in my head than it did coming out of my mouth. Now, there's nothing I wouldn't give to be forgotten since I was remembered in a way that I hated.
"How do you think future tragedies could be prevented?" It was her assistant this time, Xavier.
"It needs to start with one's self. I was warned about dying in a school shooting, but I wasn't warned that I could end up doing the killing. Instead of going on 'vigilante witch hunts' as one of my friends said, we should make sure that no one ends up like me."
"Thank you for your time." Juliette took off her press badge and slipped it into a pocket. "Now, I have another question to ask of you."
"And this is off the record, right?"
"Yes." I can't tell you how many times undercover Enquirer "reporters" had told me that my words would be off the record, but later ran off and blabbed about it to the world.
"How can I be sure of that?"
"Just trust us." They seemed pretty reputable.
"We're offering you a deal. You should get a public speaking gig talking about this stuff."
"Really?" Who would want to listen to me talk?
"You have a perspective that no one else has and can clear up a lot of misconceptions on school shootings. Your speeches could save lives." I could right the wrongs of my actions through...public speaking? Was it possible?
According to Juliette: Yes, it was.
"What do you want?" That deters a lot of the people who come to give me death threats. On the other hand, if they're radical true crime fans who want me to have their babies, I'm slamming the door in their faces. They looked at each other and decided to introduce themselves.
"I'm Juliette Kurfield with Daggerfall News."
"And?" Is this TMZ in disguise? It better not be. Juliette and her assistant looked too poised to be TMZ people.
"I'm here to interview you." Sounds good.
"Okay, but you must adhere to one condition: You cannot release any of this to TMZ, The Enquirer, or any similar "journalism" of that sort."
"Noted. I was sent to conduct research on school shootings." No. Not this. Anything but this. I started to smell smoke and burning flesh as the memories came back.
"Are you familiar with the Havencraft High School shooting?" Believe me, I was.
"Yes, I am."
"Why do you think Landon LaCoste did what he did?" This was getting worse and worse. Other than declaring my love for Steve wearing nothing but a rainbow loincloth, there were a thousand things I'd rather do than answer that question.
On one hand, I could just answer the question like anyone else and say "I don't know" or I could be honest and give others a perspective that seems to be a missing link. To be honest, I didn't really know why I did it myself. I guess it was a snowballing of a lot of things.
"Well, lucky for you, I am Landon LaCoste." My name sounded disgusting, but I put on the old Landon charm because I was useless without it. "It was a lot of things, but, mainly, I was sick of being pushed around by my peers and teachers. I thought I could show them that I was not to be messed with. I started stockpiling arrows and studying advanced combat techniques so that I could prove that, for once, I could do something right and maybe...not be forgotten." That made more sense in my head than it did coming out of my mouth. Now, there's nothing I wouldn't give to be forgotten since I was remembered in a way that I hated.
"How do you think future tragedies could be prevented?" It was her assistant this time, Xavier.
"It needs to start with one's self. I was warned about dying in a school shooting, but I wasn't warned that I could end up doing the killing. Instead of going on 'vigilante witch hunts' as one of my friends said, we should make sure that no one ends up like me."
"Thank you for your time." Juliette took off her press badge and slipped it into a pocket. "Now, I have another question to ask of you."
"And this is off the record, right?"
"Yes." I can't tell you how many times undercover Enquirer "reporters" had told me that my words would be off the record, but later ran off and blabbed about it to the world.
"How can I be sure of that?"
"Just trust us." They seemed pretty reputable.
"We're offering you a deal. You should get a public speaking gig talking about this stuff."
"Really?" Who would want to listen to me talk?
"You have a perspective that no one else has and can clear up a lot of misconceptions on school shootings. Your speeches could save lives." I could right the wrongs of my actions through...public speaking? Was it possible?
According to Juliette: Yes, it was.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Caitgate Opinions (Mark)
A/N: This story is written in the style of a vlog transcript.
All right! We're back and ready to discuss the hot, new scandal #Caitgate. Now, what is Caitgate? I'll tell you.
Caitgate technically started when the disability organization Respect Ability Minecraft harassed Caitlin Netherfield, a well-known figure in our public lives, to the point where she got severely depressed and committed suicide by jumping off a building. However, the precursors have been around long before then, so let's check some of those out.
Here are screenshots of some things she said.
"If you need to use your disability to get people to respect you, chances are ableism is not the problem you face. #disability #ableism #didactic"
"I don't support going witch hunts to deal with weapon violence at schools. This is an issue we should approach using compassion, not some vigilante justice system. #havencraft #schoolshooting"
"Seizures suck, am I right? 😛 #epilepsy #seizures"
I have responses to each of these three Tweets from the organization.
"They're not going to respect us either way, so why not make things easier on ourselves?"
"We believe that *URL censored* deserves the death sentence for his actions."
"You shouldn't be so glib about a serious issue. Go kill yourself."
After she got attacked similarly via live Twitter feed on this news channel, Caitlin began expressing feelings of worthlessness as evidence by this Tweet.
"I'm a burden. I'm not worth what I make teaching music and I'm certainly not worth all the medical bills. *URL censored* isn't that right?
So, like any good journalist (I use this term loosely), I interviewed Steve on the matter. He said that Caitlin, quote, "already had low self-esteem to begin with" and that "the online attacks made a problem that she already had even worse."
Now, I'm no psychologist, but, though personal experience, I know that a lot of people with disabilities tend to have low self-esteem. The fact that a disability organization had the nerve to attack one of the people it claims to support speaks to what their true narrative really is. Respect Ability Minecraft's narrative is one of control and censorship rather than one of "empowerment for all disabled", which is their motto.
In other words? Respect Ability Minecraft shot the albatross and I hope this case rots on their necks.
All right! We're back and ready to discuss the hot, new scandal #Caitgate. Now, what is Caitgate? I'll tell you.
Caitgate technically started when the disability organization Respect Ability Minecraft harassed Caitlin Netherfield, a well-known figure in our public lives, to the point where she got severely depressed and committed suicide by jumping off a building. However, the precursors have been around long before then, so let's check some of those out.
Here are screenshots of some things she said.
"If you need to use your disability to get people to respect you, chances are ableism is not the problem you face. #disability #ableism #didactic"
"I don't support going witch hunts to deal with weapon violence at schools. This is an issue we should approach using compassion, not some vigilante justice system. #havencraft #schoolshooting"
"Seizures suck, am I right? 😛 #epilepsy #seizures"
I have responses to each of these three Tweets from the organization.
"They're not going to respect us either way, so why not make things easier on ourselves?"
"We believe that *URL censored* deserves the death sentence for his actions."
"You shouldn't be so glib about a serious issue. Go kill yourself."
After she got attacked similarly via live Twitter feed on this news channel, Caitlin began expressing feelings of worthlessness as evidence by this Tweet.
"I'm a burden. I'm not worth what I make teaching music and I'm certainly not worth all the medical bills. *URL censored* isn't that right?
So, like any good journalist (I use this term loosely), I interviewed Steve on the matter. He said that Caitlin, quote, "already had low self-esteem to begin with" and that "the online attacks made a problem that she already had even worse."
Now, I'm no psychologist, but, though personal experience, I know that a lot of people with disabilities tend to have low self-esteem. The fact that a disability organization had the nerve to attack one of the people it claims to support speaks to what their true narrative really is. Respect Ability Minecraft's narrative is one of control and censorship rather than one of "empowerment for all disabled", which is their motto.
In other words? Respect Ability Minecraft shot the albatross and I hope this case rots on their necks.
Thursday, March 16, 2017
The Award (Steve)
I want blood.
Having been seeing red for the past few days, I went on a sword fighting spree the night before, ended up getting ten iron ingots and five pairs of dented gold boots from it, and failed to sleep properly. I sat down to a Skype meeting about yet another academic award. (Really?)
"This award," our principal declared, "is different from all other awards." He says that about every award, but it's all the same. Who's in twenty different activities? Who has a solid 9999.0 unweighted GPA? Who can put up the veneer and not let it crack at all costs? "This is the Steve award and it is to be given to two students who displays true heroism: one in high school and one in middle school." The criteria likely go against everything I stand for; the award's probably going to go to some contest combat kid. "Our middle school candidates are Adrian Roth and Estelle Messina and our high school candidates are Ayako Miyazawa and Adrienne Weiss. Please decide between the two candidates one at a time and we'll go from department to department starting with English and ending with fine arts."
I nearly spit my coffee out. I asked why she qualified for the award. The others all had something positive to say about her, but I saw no semblance of heroism in what they said. It was all the same 9999.0 unweighted GPA stuff. Like a coward would, she probably cheated in half of those classes. I overhear stuff about using Slader to do homework in all the time from the band, so it's pretty likely that the orchestra does it too.
My blood boiled as the other teachers practically sang praises to Adrienne. She had them all under her thumb, her cowardly, switchblade-pulling thumb. After the choir director said she had to go with Adrienne because of she had some sort of beef with Ayako, I took a deep breath and told them why Ayako should receive the award. I know next to nothing about Ayako apart from the fact that she plays second clarinet in band, but I did see a similar-looking girl posting lists of suicide hotlines in the halls.
When I said that Ayako should receive the award, the other teachers stared at me as if I had suddenly switched to Chinese. They all told me how great Adrienne was and how she had the Code of Honorable Combat memorized. (How ironic.) At this point, I had a choice. Do I show them the switchblade or do I not? Although I was tempted to expose the Adrienne behind the charming girl everyone else knew, I believe in dealing with disciplinary issues personally and privately, so I just praised Ayako's initiative instead.
I nearly spit my coffee out. I asked why she qualified for the award. The others all had something positive to say about her, but I saw no semblance of heroism in what they said. It was all the same 9999.0 unweighted GPA stuff. Like a coward would, she probably cheated in half of those classes. I overhear stuff about using Slader to do homework in all the time from the band, so it's pretty likely that the orchestra does it too.
My blood boiled as the other teachers practically sang praises to Adrienne. She had them all under her thumb, her cowardly, switchblade-pulling thumb. After the choir director said she had to go with Adrienne because of she had some sort of beef with Ayako, I took a deep breath and told them why Ayako should receive the award. I know next to nothing about Ayako apart from the fact that she plays second clarinet in band, but I did see a similar-looking girl posting lists of suicide hotlines in the halls.
When I said that Ayako should receive the award, the other teachers stared at me as if I had suddenly switched to Chinese. They all told me how great Adrienne was and how she had the Code of Honorable Combat memorized. (How ironic.) At this point, I had a choice. Do I show them the switchblade or do I not? Although I was tempted to expose the Adrienne behind the charming girl everyone else knew, I believe in dealing with disciplinary issues personally and privately, so I just praised Ayako's initiative instead.
Friday, March 10, 2017
Fair and Foul (Mark)
"What kind of flimsy sophistry does Respect Ability Minecraft believe in? I mean, the #Caitgate tag is trending and its idiot supporters keep trying to justify the organization's driving Caitlin into suicide." Across from me, Landon sipped his espresso. I wondered how he could stomach the stuff without adding any cream.
"In this world, fair is foul and foul is fair." I will never understand why some people insist that they're right simply because they claim to support a certain group of people and then end up not doing it.
"And it's a fair and foul day today."
"How so?"
"Excuse me." Landon left in a hurry. Judging by the placement of his fork and knife, I knew he would return soon. Though we had little to discuss, I was glad to talk to him. I checked my phone notifications. Steve tweeted a few things. The first one caught my eye, so I read it.
Turns out I'm bi. Funny thing is, high school me seemed to be as straight as a ruler. #bisexual #lol #lgbt #what #wow (rainbow flag spam)
Ranging from "Oh, cool. Me too," to various biphobic comments about gay erasure to quotes about rape statistics, the responses were a mixed bag. My only concern is that Steve and every person who has ever made eye contact with him will get harrassed by TMZ "reporters". I read the Caitgate tag.
@SteveDoesTrumpet You're a homophobic ableist. That's why you side with Caitlin in #caitgate.
@respectabilityminecraft Maybe I'd support you if you weren't responsible for her suicide. #caitgate
@SteveDoesTrumpet She brought it on herself.
@respectabilityminecraft Then why did so many people troll the live Twitter feed during this interview? (link to the video)
@SteveDoesTrumpet Because she was weak.
@respectabilityminecraft Then why didn't you stick to your motto, "Empowerment for All Disabled", and, I don't know, empower Caitlin?
@SteveDoesTrumpet Because she was human passing.
@respectabilityminecraft #TeamCaitlinFTW
Landon returned, took a seat, and downed the rest of his second espresso. He ordered a third and, this time, he added cream.
"I have a crush on Steve." Whoa. I did not see that coming.
"Who doesn't?" I'm sure a lot of people were pining after Steve, but most of them just wanted the secondhand glory. Landon's earnestness indicated that he wasn't after glory.
"What should I do? It seems so inappropriate that I have romantic feelings in these circumstances. I mean, I chickened out the last time I tried to say something."
"Just ask him again." As you can tell, I'm terrible at relationship advice.
"And humiliate myself? No thanks."
"Give it a chance. He might feel the same way about you."
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Getting Her Back (Jordan)
It was 9:00 AM. Alex hadn't eaten breakfast yet, which was odd considering that she was usually hungry at all hours of the day. I've been calling everywhere hoping to find another vocal teacher for her, but everyone who's good is booked to the gills and everyone who's available is someone I would not let Alex within ten chunks of.
I tried calling her down. She wouldn't come. That means one of two things: She's trying my patience or she's ill. I guessed that it was the former. I went to her room where she lay with her eyes open and her blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Alex only does that when she's sick, which was a sign that something was really wrong. I tried to touch her, but she retracted. Alex refused contact only one other time in her life and that was when a witch hit her in the chest with a splash potion of pain.
"Is everything okay?" Alex didn't answer. Something was really up. I offered a roll. She didn't take it. "Tu es malade?"
"Non."
"Come down and get something to eat. I made brioche."
"Je n'ai pas faim." Refusing fresh brioche? For breakfast? Something was very very wrong. I got a plate of rolls, some butter, and some jellies and left it for Alex to nibble on if her appetite returned.
I went back to working on my newest repair project: a regalia. A regalia is a sword that can turn from human to sword on command. This was obviously from another universe because the only best witches can do is make iron golems that turn into iron swords. And that's only the best witches who can do that.
Liz, said regalia, was with Dr. Lai at the moment to make sure nothing else was wrong. Having heard much positive feedback about his practice, I took her there. Aside, as far as I know, from a headache, some minor scrapes, and an intense bread craving, there were few complaints in the human department. The sword department, however, was another story. Liz was full of dents, rusted badly in one area, and covered in old blood stains. I don't know much else about her owner, but I know they've had a few nasty run-ins with some savory characters.
Mindcrack is going to get a piece of my mind. I've pulled Alex out for good and will re-enroll her if things improve, but for now, I'm just working on getting her back.
I tried calling her down. She wouldn't come. That means one of two things: She's trying my patience or she's ill. I guessed that it was the former. I went to her room where she lay with her eyes open and her blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Alex only does that when she's sick, which was a sign that something was really wrong. I tried to touch her, but she retracted. Alex refused contact only one other time in her life and that was when a witch hit her in the chest with a splash potion of pain.
"Is everything okay?" Alex didn't answer. Something was really up. I offered a roll. She didn't take it. "Tu es malade?"
"Non."
"Come down and get something to eat. I made brioche."
"Je n'ai pas faim." Refusing fresh brioche? For breakfast? Something was very very wrong. I got a plate of rolls, some butter, and some jellies and left it for Alex to nibble on if her appetite returned.
I went back to working on my newest repair project: a regalia. A regalia is a sword that can turn from human to sword on command. This was obviously from another universe because the only best witches can do is make iron golems that turn into iron swords. And that's only the best witches who can do that.
Liz, said regalia, was with Dr. Lai at the moment to make sure nothing else was wrong. Having heard much positive feedback about his practice, I took her there. Aside, as far as I know, from a headache, some minor scrapes, and an intense bread craving, there were few complaints in the human department. The sword department, however, was another story. Liz was full of dents, rusted badly in one area, and covered in old blood stains. I don't know much else about her owner, but I know they've had a few nasty run-ins with some savory characters.
Mindcrack is going to get a piece of my mind. I've pulled Alex out for good and will re-enroll her if things improve, but for now, I'm just working on getting her back.
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
A True Hero (Steve)
Help. Me.
No one did vibrato in the violin section. We were testing over Kokoro, our one performance number, because I sensed that the chair placement was way off. One of the seconds has the best bow control of anyone I've seen in this ensemble and the concertmaster has horrible intonation. Our cellists clearly had no idea what they were doing. Surprisingly, our violas were doing just fine. This arrangement of Kokoro featured the violas, which masked the fact that our violins' intonation was comparable to creeper dung.
I was about done with the first violins. Though I've haven't decided on a concertmaster yet, I had a few likely candidates: Kaitlyn Berg, Maxwell Cox, and Aliyah Zhu. All of them were well-qualified, but, seeing that I'm a concertmaster myself, none of them have what it truly takes. Aliyah's heart is with her flute in band, which was good, but why was she in the orchestra and not doing other flute stuff? Maxwell is busy with STEM and Kaitlyn is just plain mean-spirited. I could see her across from me with that saccharine smile of hers. However, the moment someone finished a test, she would start whispering comments to her stand partner, Adrienne. I overheard the name Lisette and something about yanking hair.
That brought me to the second violins. I tested until I saw a Lisette. There weren't many Lisettes in the world, let alone at Mindcrack, so I could only assume that this was who Kaitlyn and Adrienne were talking about. Lisette raised her bow and played her part almost perfectly. After giving her the music for the first part and telling her to play the solo, she soared. Something about the way she played transcended everything else I've heard so far and then the music stopped. I came back down from my musical high to see that Lisette was crying and not from the beauty of what she just played.
Kaitlyn snickered at Lisette's pain. I completely lost it. I just sent her out of the room and gave her a zero on her playing test. If there's one thing I do not take kindly to in the music world, it's sabotage. Music is about putting on your best show, not ruining someone else's. Being rather concerned, I pulled Lisette aside for a bit. She got out of her wheelchair and walked over to me. She had an odd gait, but it seemed to do the job for Lisette. I lowered the volume on my device to something barely above a whisper.
"What happened?"
"Someone yanked my hair while I was playing and now my wheelchair doesn't work. The wheels won't move." She hobbled over accordingly and showed me the problem at hand. The wheels would not budge. I looked at the axles. They were jammed with gum.
"What is that?" I pointed to her arm.
"Oh. I felt something stab me." She wiped the blood away, but it came back just as fast and ran down her arm. That wasn't a something. That was a someone. It was a switchblade wound. Switchblades are the weapons of cowards. They are rarely, if ever, used in any sort of honorable combat. Being largely tied to criminal activities, switchblades are banned on a variety of campuses. Mindcrack doesn't ban switchblades, only chemical and biological weapons. I made note of the other seconds and I was done with the tests. I had a good idea of what the violas, cellos, and basses would do.
Because I didn't want to risk her being around Adrienne any longer, I escorted Lisette to the nurse myself. She had red coppery hair the color of acacia wood and silver eyes. They almost looked unnatural, but they weren't piercing like gray eyes normally are. Instead, they looked especially soft and innocent. It wouldn't be an issue because the bell was four minutes from ringing.
About halfway down the hall, Lisette's wheelchair started falling apart. I looked more closely at it. A few key screws had been loosened with, from what I could tell, a bloody switchblade. Lisette handed me something and, instantly, my suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed a switchblade. It had no name, but it did have a poppy engraving. I'm not well-versed in engravings on weapons, but, generally, those with poppy engravings are not to be trusted.
I asked Lisette if she would be okay walking to the nurse. After she shook her head, I ended up carrying her to the nurse. I dropped her off and took the switchblade to the office.
After describing the incident for a bit, which was difficult because my device decided to rage quit on me in the middle of a sentence. How convenient.
When school got out, I got a notice in my inbox saying that the school would shut down for a week starting tomorrow. I saw Lisette with a cane and she thanked me for carrying her to the nurse's office.
"Not many people would do that. You're a true hero."
"Why not?"
"Well, it's because of my brother." She looked down shamefacedly. "You know about the Havencraft High School shooting?" I did, as a matter of fact. My school was shut down for the day because the shooter was in the area. "It was my brother who did that and I keep getting harassed because of it."
"And his name?"
"Landon LaCoste."
No one did vibrato in the violin section. We were testing over Kokoro, our one performance number, because I sensed that the chair placement was way off. One of the seconds has the best bow control of anyone I've seen in this ensemble and the concertmaster has horrible intonation. Our cellists clearly had no idea what they were doing. Surprisingly, our violas were doing just fine. This arrangement of Kokoro featured the violas, which masked the fact that our violins' intonation was comparable to creeper dung.
I was about done with the first violins. Though I've haven't decided on a concertmaster yet, I had a few likely candidates: Kaitlyn Berg, Maxwell Cox, and Aliyah Zhu. All of them were well-qualified, but, seeing that I'm a concertmaster myself, none of them have what it truly takes. Aliyah's heart is with her flute in band, which was good, but why was she in the orchestra and not doing other flute stuff? Maxwell is busy with STEM and Kaitlyn is just plain mean-spirited. I could see her across from me with that saccharine smile of hers. However, the moment someone finished a test, she would start whispering comments to her stand partner, Adrienne. I overheard the name Lisette and something about yanking hair.
That brought me to the second violins. I tested until I saw a Lisette. There weren't many Lisettes in the world, let alone at Mindcrack, so I could only assume that this was who Kaitlyn and Adrienne were talking about. Lisette raised her bow and played her part almost perfectly. After giving her the music for the first part and telling her to play the solo, she soared. Something about the way she played transcended everything else I've heard so far and then the music stopped. I came back down from my musical high to see that Lisette was crying and not from the beauty of what she just played.
Kaitlyn snickered at Lisette's pain. I completely lost it. I just sent her out of the room and gave her a zero on her playing test. If there's one thing I do not take kindly to in the music world, it's sabotage. Music is about putting on your best show, not ruining someone else's. Being rather concerned, I pulled Lisette aside for a bit. She got out of her wheelchair and walked over to me. She had an odd gait, but it seemed to do the job for Lisette. I lowered the volume on my device to something barely above a whisper.
"What happened?"
"Someone yanked my hair while I was playing and now my wheelchair doesn't work. The wheels won't move." She hobbled over accordingly and showed me the problem at hand. The wheels would not budge. I looked at the axles. They were jammed with gum.
"What is that?" I pointed to her arm.
"Oh. I felt something stab me." She wiped the blood away, but it came back just as fast and ran down her arm. That wasn't a something. That was a someone. It was a switchblade wound. Switchblades are the weapons of cowards. They are rarely, if ever, used in any sort of honorable combat. Being largely tied to criminal activities, switchblades are banned on a variety of campuses. Mindcrack doesn't ban switchblades, only chemical and biological weapons. I made note of the other seconds and I was done with the tests. I had a good idea of what the violas, cellos, and basses would do.
Because I didn't want to risk her being around Adrienne any longer, I escorted Lisette to the nurse myself. She had red coppery hair the color of acacia wood and silver eyes. They almost looked unnatural, but they weren't piercing like gray eyes normally are. Instead, they looked especially soft and innocent. It wouldn't be an issue because the bell was four minutes from ringing.
About halfway down the hall, Lisette's wheelchair started falling apart. I looked more closely at it. A few key screws had been loosened with, from what I could tell, a bloody switchblade. Lisette handed me something and, instantly, my suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed a switchblade. It had no name, but it did have a poppy engraving. I'm not well-versed in engravings on weapons, but, generally, those with poppy engravings are not to be trusted.
I asked Lisette if she would be okay walking to the nurse. After she shook her head, I ended up carrying her to the nurse. I dropped her off and took the switchblade to the office.
After describing the incident for a bit, which was difficult because my device decided to rage quit on me in the middle of a sentence. How convenient.
When school got out, I got a notice in my inbox saying that the school would shut down for a week starting tomorrow. I saw Lisette with a cane and she thanked me for carrying her to the nurse's office.
"Not many people would do that. You're a true hero."
"Why not?"
"Well, it's because of my brother." She looked down shamefacedly. "You know about the Havencraft High School shooting?" I did, as a matter of fact. My school was shut down for the day because the shooter was in the area. "It was my brother who did that and I keep getting harassed because of it."
"And his name?"
"Landon LaCoste."
Thursday, March 2, 2017
Almost Out (Play Style)
(A/N: I'm trying a new writing style.) I hope you like it.
Scene 1:
Enter Landon, and a server. They are at a café.
Landon: Two coffees, please, with milk and sugar on the side. *smells something delicious* Can I get a basket of that? It smells divine!
Server: Absolutely, sir. *Exit server*
Landon: Where is he? *checks phone, setting it down*
*Enter server and Steve*
Steve: I am sorry. I was with Alice in the hospital.
Landon: How's she doing?
Steve: Pretty well. She's lost a lot of hair, but she's still putting up a fight.
Landon: That's good. *Landon starts nervously stuffing his face with pain au chocolat.*
Steve: *cocks his head confusedly after preparing a coffee for himself* Are you hungry?
Landon: Yes. I...I'm always hungry!
Steve: *takes a pain au chocolat* Is something wrong? *sips coffee*
Landon: *runs offstage in a fit of nervous impulsivity*
*Exit Landon, with Steve following quizzically after he leaves*
(A/N: To decide what happens next, comment A or B).
Scene 1:
Enter Landon, and a server. They are at a café.
Landon: Two coffees, please, with milk and sugar on the side. *smells something delicious* Can I get a basket of that? It smells divine!
Server: Absolutely, sir. *Exit server*
Landon: Where is he? *checks phone, setting it down*
*Enter server and Steve*
Steve: I am sorry. I was with Alice in the hospital.
Landon: How's she doing?
Steve: Pretty well. She's lost a lot of hair, but she's still putting up a fight.
Landon: That's good. *Landon starts nervously stuffing his face with pain au chocolat.*
Steve: *cocks his head confusedly after preparing a coffee for himself* Are you hungry?
Landon: Yes. I...I'm always hungry!
Steve: *takes a pain au chocolat* Is something wrong? *sips coffee*
Landon: *runs offstage in a fit of nervous impulsivity*
*Exit Landon, with Steve following quizzically after he leaves*
(A/N: To decide what happens next, comment A or B).
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