The record of an American-British citizen living abroad in Asia with familial ties back to eastern Europe and the Mediterranian. Yeah, life's complicated.
I spent some time with my niece yesterday, and I noticed that she really likes to repeat things. For instance, she'll repeat back words she's just heard for the first time as many times as she can. She'll ask you to draw the exact same thing until you convince her to do something else with you. She'll also sit and solve a puzzle she just got, only to dump all the pieces back into a pile so she can do it all again. I once joked that she had me sing Ring Around the Rosy fifty-nine times and Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed forty-six times because it was all that she asked me to do one evening.
Little children really are Sisyphean creatures, and yet they do it out of joy. On some level, I think that comes from the fact that these activities are still relatively new to her and so she is still learning new things from them, even if it means repeating them over and over again. And, really, I think that's what a lot of hobbies boil down to: completing smaller, specific tasks that are meant to culminate in finishing some project, only to turn around and pick up another project where you have to do it all again. And seeing my niece enjoy herself with it, I feel like I can be a little less cynical than I was before about that.
For some reason, I've found myself most recently reflecting on the words of my middle school PE teacher. Whilst teaching us how to juggle scarves, and then bean balls and rings as our skills increased, he demonstrated to us what he wanted us to do with objects we threw too far for our hands to catch. He threw the ball to arch from one hand to his other hand, but, seeing that the ball was going to fall a few inches away from his other hand, let it drop. As it fell to the ground, he gave us these words that have preoccupied my mind:
Practice does not make perfect. Practice makes permanent. It's better to drop a ball and pick it up to try again than it is to reach out and catch that ball. In the short term, it might be frustrating to have to pick up the ball so many times when you could just reach out and grab it in the air. However, letting the ball drop allows you to learn how to do it properly. When you compensate for the mistake you make in an attempt to salvage your attempt, what you're doing is allowing your body to learn to continue making that mistake. And when you do that, you will always find yourself having the same problem as you try to juggle. And by that point, you will need more effort to unlearn that mistake than you would have needed to learn it properly in the first place.
So it makes me think: people say that experience is valuable because it means you get better at something. But maybe that's not it. Maybe experience simply builds habits, and it's more important to pay attention to what habits you're building than how much experience you're gaining.
And in that case, it's more important to do the right thing so that you naturally fall into doing the right thing without thinking, rather than doing the easy thing and finding it harder to do the right thing later, when it matters most to you and everyone else.
The news tonight is running several news stories related to things in the election. As I type this, my dad is listening to the local news headlines, including one that says the governor of Oregon, Kate Brown, is preemptively putting the National Guard on call for potential violence on Election Night. Upon looking it up an OPB article about it ("Oregon Gov. Kate Brown will declare emergency, ready National Guard ahead of election" on their website), I find that these National Guard troops will only be stationed around "the Portland area," if they are deployed at all, in part as a way to discourage people from discouraging voters to drop off their ballots. With the civil unrest and nightly protests that have been occurring in Portland since the start of the George Floyd protests on May 28, 2020, and the clarification in the OPB article that this could provide authorities with special permission to use crowd-control tactics that have otherwise been banned due to the backlash from their use in those protests, I can only imagine how poorly this will go over with the residents of Portland.
Despite the high tensions in Portland, and the Donald Trump rallies that have been held in the city and around the state, most polls project Oregon to be very likely to give their electoral votes to Joe Biden. As a state that has given their electoral votes to the Democratic nominee for president in the past 8 election cycles (a tradition that dates back to 1988 and which may have been influenced by the influx of people to Oregon due to companies like Intel moving their headquarters to the state), it is not unusual for polls to be projecting Oregon as in "safe Biden" territory, as websites like 270towin.org have phrased it. As someone hoping for the end to the Trump presidency, this projection seems both accurate and comforting. However, my concern, and the concern for most people anxiously watching the election as my family and friends have been doing, is not with Oregon.
Our concern dates back to the 2016 presidential election cycle, when then-Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton faced off against soon-to-be-president Donald Trump. The polls back then were projecting a win for Hillary Clinton.
To people like myself, this seemed like a foregone conclusion: Hillary Clinton had years experience in politics, having served in several different capacities for the federal government. She lead delegations, served in the US Senate, and had been First Lady and Secretary of State throughout her career. Donald Trump, meanwhile, had built his career being known by putting his name on brands and making appearances in shows like The Apprentice, where his tagline quote was "You're fired!" It is true that Hillary Clinton was known to be out of touch with the youth, something that was often shown in her awkward uses of the slang of the day and popular trends such as the Nae-Nae. However, when compared to Donald Trump's platform, which he had built out of exclusion, disparaging people who did not agree with him or fact-checked his statements publicly, and reactionary policies, Clinton's out-of-touch image did not deter me.
There are a number of instances just during the days of Trump's first campaign that should have disqualified his bid for the presidency in any prudent voter's mind. Donald Trump mocked people with disabilities when he mocked the appearance of a reporter on the autism spectrum after the reporter, Serge Kovaleski, called Trump out for creating and spreading a lie that a "large Arab population" celebrated as the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center were hit. He called people coming over the border from Mexico, people who he lumped together as "Mexicans" despite the fact that more Mexicans were moving to Mexico from the US than vice versa after the Great Recession of 2008 according to the Pew Research Center ("More Mexicans Leaving Than Coming to the U.S." from 2015 on their website) and the fact that, by the time Donald Trump was running, the majority of undocumented immigrants crossing that border were from other Central American nations than Mexico, rapists, criminals, and drug-dealers. He was a big contributor to the spread of interest in claims that former president Barrack Obama was actually a citizen of Kenya, a conspiracy theory often referred to as "Birtherism" that has racist undertones for relying on the fact that Obama's father was born in Kenya and had British and Kenyan citizenship. His comment spoken and recorded in 2005 in a trailer with Billy Bush where he claims that he could do anything to women, including "grab them by the pussy," since women would let him do anything came to light and ignited backlash that later found prominence in the #MeToo movement and was incorporated into the 2017 Women's March with the appearance of knitted Pussyhats.
With all of these instances, the polls predicting his demise, and the experience of the Democratic presidential candidate after what seemed to me a leap forward in leadership domestically under a Democratic president for 8 years, it seemed clear to me that Donald Trump was destined to lose. Men like him didn't win offices like the presidency. In my world, fostered by fictional stories from a young age of strong women who worked hard and proved their place at the table with their competence and forged in the faith that the citizens of a nation cared more for uplifting each other than focusing on their own short-term, personal, material gain or the fear-mongering for the need of a strong military against a hazy, foreign (read: Middle Eastern) enemy in the minds of those that had lived through the attacks of 9/11, there could only be one choice. I went to bed that night believing that I would wake up to the news of the first woman elected to be President of the United States.
The world that I had believed myself to be living in proved to be just as fictitious as the stories that had nurtured them. I woke up the next day in my maternal grandmother's house, a comfortable 3-bedroom attached house an hour north of London, England, to the sobering news that Donald Trump had won enough electoral votes to take the election. Over the course of the week, when it became clear that Hillary Clinton had won the majority of votes cast, a sense that the presidency had been stolen was born among left-leaning voters. On that first day in a post-Trump win, however, I wasn't thinking of that. I was roiling with confusion as to how my fellow Americans could believe that a vote for Trump would be in anyone's best interest and struggling with a sense of grief as to what this would mean for the next 4 years to come.
It turns out that there are many Americans who do not place themselves into the shoes of the people who struggle to make a living for themselves and their families. A more forgiving interpretation might be that many Americans were not convinced that a Clinton presidency would provide the security that a Trump one would, though I have always questioned with how much veracity the people claiming this truly believe it to have. I had also underestimated the power with which then-director of the FBI James Comey's "October Surprise" (that is, his announcement that the FBI had "learned of the existence of emails that appear to be pertinent to the investigation [Clinton's handling of sensitive information that pertained to Benghazi, which had Trump rallying his supporters to chant "lock her up" in reference to Hillary Clinton].") would have in the minds of voters.
Perhaps more importantly, I had ignored how deeply unpopular Hillary Clinton was as a political figure. I had several friends and family members with whom I had talked about the presidential candidates, among whom many had expressed a dislike for Clinton whether or not they saw Donald Trump as a good alternative. That sentiment was widespread across the United States: In a 2016 Gallup poll ending the week of November 6, Hillary Clinton's favorability rating was 40% to Trump's 35%, while their unfavorability ratings were 52% and 61% respectively ("Trump and Clinton Finish With Historically Poor Images" on Gallup's news webpage). Stuck between a Democratic candidate from an established political family facing yet another scandal and a Republican one that preached the need for undoing all the policies of the past eight years, many voters chose the one they felt was at least better than the other candidate or, in many cases, didn't show up to the polls at all.
We know now that there was foreign interference in the 2016 US presidential election. It showed up in divisive memes online that hardened people's political stances and disrupted conversations that the right and left were having, polarizing our communities. It showed up in the discouragements of people, such as those in key swing states and BIPOC, to vote by convincing people that voting for officials never changed anything. It showed up in the access that Russian actors gained to voter registration and personal information in some circumstances. And it was Russian hacking of the Clinton campaign that lead to the leaking of tens of thousands of e-mails to WikiLeaks that would later become the October Surprise that James Comey would unleash near the Election Day of 2016. Much of this worked in Trump's favor to win the election.
Today, every news caster, website, or pundit that talks about poll numbers includes a disclaimer to the effect that "polls are not infallible" and stresses that "although the poll numbers are in Biden's favor, there is still a path for Trump to victory in this race." Behind these disclaimers are the memory of the 2016 presidential election. YouTube channel TLDR News US, which has reported on US national issues since June 2019, has made this a topic for more than one video on their channel. Their two videos "Can You Trust Polling Data? Is Biden Really Set to Win the Presidency" from August 11, 2020 and "If Polls Were Wrong in 2016, Can We Trust Them in 2020? Why Polls are More Reliable" from October 28, 2020 have been viewed for a total of 185,085 views as of November 2, 2020, with the majority of those views (specifically, 143, 683 of them) accounted for in the last 5 days for that latter video. Having watched these videos to help myself understand the reliability of the polls, I know first-hand how the anxiety of the election results drives people like me to search out information like this.
As we go into Election Day, this anxiety comes with me. While our election results will likely not be fully accounted for until all ballots can be counted, something that is unlikely to happen until later in November due to the record number of voters casting their ballots early through mail-in ballots and early voting events to avoid crowding the polls on Election Day and/or avoid the long lines typical of the day. While there is evidence that Trump has already decided to declare himself the victor on Election Night if the initial numbers look to be in his favor, polls are showing that Biden still has a lead in most states and could potentially deliver a crushing defeat through the electoral college...while also showing potential outcomes where Trump wins enough electoral votes to secure a second term of his presidency.
Tonight, I have more hope for the chances of a Biden presidency with the guidance of Kamala Harris than I do fear that Donald Trump will win the presidency again. What frightens me is that the fear that is there is so much heavier than the hope. It is not without recognition of the fact that any presidency will be flawed with overseas policy that aims to undermine the self-determination of people or acknowledgement of the fact that the presidency can only mean so much when the rest of the government is at odds with it that I watch this election with dreadful anticipation.
Only time will tell if the polls this election cycle are just as misguided as the 2016 election polls were, and whether I am hopeful or despondent about the path that the White House will take for the next four years. Time that has passed so slowly and yet come all too quickly.
Maybe I'm just not talking to the right people, but when someone brings up 'enlightenment' in a metaphysical sense around me, they tend to be... massively rude about it. So it kind of makes me wonder: why is it so important that I be enlightened? Is it not good enough that I take my own personal journey that I must partake in some cosmic euphoria to feel whole? Pardon my arrogance but... what does that exactly... do?
Something I've been thinking about is how I feel like I've lost my ability to really be content in the moment and empathize with other people in a way that allows perceived slights or rude behavior to slide off of me. I think it was one part taking the work culture of my old school job with me, one part falling out of practice in purposefully empathizing, and one part withdrawing from the world becaue of coronavirus. This made me think: if enlightenment is part euphoria or contentment with how life is, then it's got to be really hard to be enlightened right now amd connected to the people around you.
That being said, I think it's time I try letting go of idealizing an old self and start building up myself and my present again.
look, tomorrow you will wake up and feel a bit better, a bit calmer. you are going to figure things out eventually, it dosnt have to all be done tonight. take a deep breath, relax your shoulders, and get some rest. you will manage.
The news on protests around the country against police brutality and the riots and police response has been constant these past few days. I have seen friends from America (not other parts of the world, just the Americans and one extended Cypriot family member; this is not, as I saw one person post, “the world going crazy”) posting about these things, hearing people say things that range from how the rioting is the wrong approach to how the riots are the only way for the black community to make themselves heard. Something has sat wrong with me about all of this, and though I know that sounds bad, please bear with me.
Many of the posts I see have focused on the protests themselves: the riots, the stand-off with police, the president's response to this or that. And although I think these are all relevant, real-time events that we are struggling to get through, both to wrestle with the state of America today and to try and show solidarity with a community that has always had an unfair, massive burden placed on them by us, I think there's something else we should be asking ourselves.
If we truly believe that a riot is the language of the unheard, maybe we should ask ourselves, as white members of this society, what we are not hearing. What are the things that we didn't listen to that contributed to this anger and frustration?
Are we putting our money where our mouth is if we can't participate and donating what we can to causes like the Minnesota Freedom Fund or The Know Your Rights Camp Legal Defense Initiative, so that protesters there can post bail and have legal representation if they're imprisoned? NAACP? Black Lives Matter? Local causes that aim to address other discrepancies, like the Esperanza Relief Fund (the Latinx community is disproportionately affected by coronavirus in Oregon)?
Are we checking to see if our city police forces are required to wear body cameras? Are we asking our county and state jails what they're doing to make sure inmates are not at risk of higher exposure to coronavirus? Are we advocating for the abolition of posting bail altogether? Are we voting for the levies to fund change and making sure that the money is being put to good use?
With Pride month in June, are we making sure that we acknowledge the intersection of race in our community and calling out white supremacy and racial discrimination when they present themselves? Are we including resources that discuss the intersection of race with faith, orientation, class, etc?
Essentially, are we making sure that we're not just stopping at the news and the feeling they engender, but at least doing a little more to listen to what others have said we can do.
I have a friend I am close to. Closer than I am with most other friends. Close even after she confessed that she'd loved me twice. Close enough to make me want to push her away sometimes because I know how it looks from the outside, and I worry how it feels to her from the other side.
Sometimes I hear words in between her laughter and the things she says. I hear it in my mind. "We only need try. We only need time for you to come to love me. You are not used to love yet. Let me help you." And that's when the wolf in me howls and rankles at the chains of companionship I have anchored it with. It wants nothing to do with this. It wants release. And it wants me to look her in the eyes and tell her "You may think this a sickness, a weakness, something for me to overcome, but this is mine and you are not."
And still I hide the wolf and try to stay close. My friend, you may not say these words or think them. But the wolf will keep a wary eye. And I will trust you not to prove it right.
I’m a gentile, raised Mormon. This year, my dad and his wife are celebrating Hanukkah.
So, question one, is it okay for gentiles to celebrate Hanukkah? They’re being pretty careful, learning the rules, making sure to light the candles right and everything.
Now we go down a bit of a rabbit-hole. In the Mormon religion, there’s a belief - a “doctrine” - that all people are descended from the twelve tribes of Israel. In a special, personalized “patriarchal blessing” you receive around 15 or 16 years of age, your “descent” is revealed - that is, which tribe of Israel you belong to. This is not genetic. Parents and children and siblings can “belong” to different tribes. It has nothing to do with actual family history, and seems to be entirely symbolic, based on your apparent role in God’s plan.
When I questioned why they were celebrating Hanukkah, they claimed it was because they’re celebrating their heritage. As far as I’m aware, however, there is no Jewish blood in my family or my stepfamily, and they made mention of their “descent” from the twelve tribes of Israel, implying that they believe they have a right to this holiday because of that.
I’m baffled. I absolutely support learning about and respecting Jewish culture, but it’s not okay for them to claim that this holiday is for them, is it? They’re Christian. They’re sitting here reading an article titled “Hanukkah is for Christians.”
Do any Jews out there have some advice for this goyim? It’s such a weird, niche issue. I’m not sure Google will have any help for me on this bizarre minutia of the interaction between Mormon and Jewish culture.
My name is Josh (he/him/his) and I’m a student rabbi and Jewish Educator living in New York City.
Thank you so so much for your thoughtful and very thorough question. I really appreciate you reaching out to the Jewish community for some advice.
In short, no. It is not okay for a non-Jewish person to celebrate a Jewish holiday or perform a Jewish ritual unless they either (A) doing so in a Jewish space with or for the benefit of their Jewish loved ones or (B) doing so in preparation to convert to Judaism (and are working directly with a rabbi, cantor, or other Jewish person to help them on their blossoming Jewish journey).
I am not a fan of arguing that other people’s theological understanding of the world is incorrect as theology can be so personal, often confusing, and rather complicated. So I do not feel comfortable commented specifically on this Mormon theology that you pointed out. I believe that all religious beliefs that do not hurt another human being – or group of human beings – should be celebrated. But I will comment specifically on the appropriation of Jewish rituals and why this is an act of antisemitism.
There is a growing movement in the Christian world – not just within the Mormon Church – of folks who believe that they have a right or a privilege to celebrate Jewish customs and holidays. I have heard that many folks do it in the “name of Jesus,” or like in this case “because it is ‘our’ heritage.” Both of these points are rather disturbing when you trace the atrocities committed against Jews by Christians throughout history. Christians are responsible for so much Jewish pain throughout history and have absolutely no right to appropriate Jewish traditions. It is disrespectful, because regardless of how any non-Jew follows the “rules” one attempts to follow, it is still not their holiday, their custom, their heritage, nor their tradition.
This is all my way of coming around to say that you are 100% correct friend. And thank you for coming here for your Jewish siblings to reassure this uncomfortable feeling you might be feeling. I also agree with your statement that learning about other people’s faith traditions is important. Personally I love learning about Mormonism (if you have any fun articles, please send them my way!). You are in the right here.
I’d like to end by adding a few fun tidbits that I am sure that your father and his wife might not be thinking about. Every single Jewish holiday that we celebrate today is a product of evolution over time. Most Jewish customs as well are a product of a slow evolution– meaning that the Jews would have practiced in Jesus’ time, is sharply different than the Judaism practiced of today. As an example back in the first century, Jews were most likely having a debate about the custom around how many candles one should light– and in what order– on the Hanukiah (Hanukkah Menorah). Although Jewish Law states that one should light at least one candle each night, the custom has developed to light one light the first, two the second, three the third, and so on and so fourth. This is all to say that for the elites in the first century who practiced Hanukkah, they probably would not have lit the candles via today’s custom. (If it would be helpful, I’d be happy to make similar arguments about other Jewish holidays, customs, and modes of being Jewish!)
Ultimately friend, you are in the right here. Your gut telling you that this celebration is wrong, is totally on point. Thank you so much for bringing so much compassion to this really rather challenging issue.
I also need to point out that Mormonism does this lovely thing where they posthumously baptize people as Mormon. This includes Holocaust victims.
Anne Frank was baptized as a Mormon decades after her death. Her death BECAUSE she was Jewish.
Many, many Jews have complained about this and the “church’s” standpoint has always been “deal with it.”
They also do this to other oppressed minorities, like Native Americans, without the consent of the person at all. It’s sickening.
So no, unless a Mormon person is willing to take the time to study and convert, I don’t want them anywhere near Jewish holidays, Judaica, temples, anything. Mormonism itself is antisemitic and continues to harm Jews.
Hey, thank you so much for your input, guys. I do want to clarify - I myself am no longer Mormon. I identify as agnostic these days.
I really appreciate you both reaching out and helping me understand this issue. The truth is, I felt in my gut that what they’re doing is wrong, but I didn’t want to broach the argument without asking actual Jews first - because I am not, after all, Jewish, and don’t know much about the culture or religion. Thank you so much for the information and treating my lack of knowledge kindly. I’m going to attempt to broach the issue with my family, but things between myself and them are… tense, and I’m not sure they’ll respect this.
I’ve really appreciated this opportunity to learn, and I hope I might be able to get through to my dad and his family about this.
And, @the-home-kvetch, I’ve heard about the issue with posthumously baptizing people. I believe the “baptism” of Anne Frank happened shortly before I left the church. To put it frankly, it’s not right, and it was disrespectful to Anne’s memory, religion, culture, and death. I don’t speak for the Mormon church, but as an ex-Mormon, I’m sorry. For Anne Frank, and for all the other Jews that Mormons have posthumously baptized.
Thank you for modelling kindness and a yearning to learn about other human beings. In the Jewish world, we would call you a true Tzadik.
@the-home-kvetch - thank you for your important input to this conversation here.
If you are not Jewish, please read this important conversation. And if you have a chance, please read the notes.
I hope that this conversation can inspire us all to learn about other faith traditions and to explore other cultures with the goal of making us better informed, more compassionate human beings. As the Jewish sage Hillel would say, “If I am only for myself, what am I?”
I learned, when I was young, on a visit to a primate research center, that eye contact was a sign of aggression that invited violence. But as I grew up and read more, I also learned that babies will stare at you because they think you’re beautiful, that dogs will look you in the eye because you make them happy. I learned from personal experience that cats will look you in the eyes and then close them to show you how much they trust you, to not have to watch you all the time. And I feel that maybe the world is a bit kinder and a bit more loving of a place than anyone ever told me it would be.
Like the wisteria on a warm spring morning by the riverside, the color lavender calls out to you. Lavender is soft and caring enough to envelop your worries and calm your mind. It’s the color for a certain state of mind; while other colors are certainly more appropriate for certain occasions, lavender is always there for you when you want to come back to the emotions it evokes. I see the dark purple of a sunset and know that tomorrow will be okay; I see the lavender in the garden and know that today, too, things can be okay the way they are.
I still remember the time she asked me a question back.
“So...what about you?”
It had been a hesitant question. It was awkwardly said and almost sounded reluctant. That was uncharacteristic of her, both the awkwardness and the interest in my life. I’d nearly stopped walking from the surprise, but I kept pace with her.
“Oh, y’know. I’ve been trying my best to---”
I hadn’t known her for more than a year, and our first few meetings had left me with the impression that she was not the kind of person who would get along with me. We had some classes in common and a few in-class tasks to work on, but she always seemed more interested in other people than in our studies. Somehow or other, we gradually began hanging out outside of school. It felt like every time we met, something had changed.
Well, it definitely wasn’t her. She hadn’t changed. She was constantly herself, all confidence and frank attitude. Stylish. Young. Up-to-date with the world. Even today, there wasn’t a person in the world who could call her anything but. But ever time I met her, things felt different. And at that time, maybe I had discovered what it was without realizing what I’d stumbled upon.
It wasn’t so much that we were changing. Instead, I think it’s just that we were getting to know each other. Even years later, I am still surprised by how much I was blind to before.
With a glance, I saw what I expected. I saw my own thoughts about who I am and who others are. But with every meeting, I see more of who's really there.
As part of my application for a job, I was asked to write something creative related to one of my favorite video games. I ended up writing two. Why, you ask? Because, my dear reader, this one wouldn’t fit neatly enough into two pages. I wanted to explore this Ace Attorney scenario more than the application would allow me...so I’m posting it here! Better that it gets a shot at being read than to leave it wasting away on my computer’s local memory.
“You forgot one thing, Phoenix.” That tone of voice had never boded well for me.
A bead of sweat trickled down my neck. What did Edgeworth have up his sleeve this time?
“Oh yeah? And what might that be?” Whatever confidence I was trying to exude had no effect on Edgeworth. He shrugged as if even the simplest fool could see what he had spotted, shaking his head with a triumphant smirk.
“He’s the only one without eyewitness testimony to his innocence. All other participants at the scene of the crime have alibis. Therefore, the only one who could be the perpetrator is none other than Mr. Larry Butz. It’s a farce to continue this case any further; he’s clearly the guilty party.” The crowd buzzed, taken by Edgeworth’s words. I swallowed, hard. It was true: I had forgotten about that detail. That old phrase from elementary school ran through my head: when something smells, it’s usually the Butz. I quickly dismissed it. Larry said he was innocent, and I believed in him.
“Objection! That doesn’t prove that he’s the one who stole it. Who’s to say it wasn’t a third party?”
“Do you have proof about this ‘third party’?”
“The hall is accessible to people from the outside,” I waffled. My mind raced; if it wasn’t Larry, and if everyone else at the reception had an airtight alibi, then it had to be someone else—someone who wasn’t on the invitation list and who hadn’t been seen by the partygoers. Someone who would blend in just enough to not be suspicious. Edgeworth waggled his finger, shaking his head at what I had said.
“Every single guest has adamantly testified that they have seen no one suspicious enter or leave the venue. The only suspicious activity they’ve witnessed was committed by our prime suspect.”
My eyes trailed over to Larry. I wouldn’t have blamed any of the guests for thinking that Larry was suspicious. In his tweed, oversized suit with a huge corsage, stinking of cologne, and the way he roamed around hitting on all the girls in the room, it wasn’t hard to see why he would have left a bad impression on most of the people here. Especially when he had bumped into the bride-to-be before the ceremony. He hadn’t changed a day since fourth grade.
“If you have no proof of this mysterious outsider, then it’s time to hand him over to the police.” The buzz of the crowd was growing louder, eyes darting accusingly to the tearful Larry.
“Edgey, you’re heartless! Don’t it mean anything to you that we’re old pals? Old buddies?” Larry’s eyes were practically sparkling with the amount of liquid gushing out of them.
“I don’t give special treatment to anyone,” Edgeworth said dismissively, “least of all liars. We have laws in place to protect citizens from unscrupulous people, and it’s a prosecutor’s duty to make sure no criminal slips away scot-free.”
Edgeworth didn’t know it, but he’d given me the key to solving this mystery.
“Hold it!” The buzz died down a bit, stunned by the sudden outburst as I slapped my hands on the banquet table. All eyes were on me. Suddenly the room felt hotter. Or was I just blushing? I wished I hadn’t yelled quite as loudly, but I couldn’t back off now. Larry’s reputation was on the line. “There’s someone in this building that matches the profile. Someone no one would even notice. Someone who has a penchant for breaking things that aren’t theirs. Someone-“ I made a point to stare straight into Edgeworth’s eyes. It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t flinch. “-who doesn’t have an alibi when the glass centerpiece was broken.”
“You’re blustering.” Edgeworth pointed his finger accusingly at me, but he couldn’t shake me. He’d lost his smile. I was on to something. “If there were such a person, then how did they get in and out unseen? And where are they now?”
It was my turn to smile.
“Why, that’s simple. All the perpetrator had to do was crawl underneath all the tables.” The room was louder than ever, a mix of confused voices with outraged ones. Edgeworth seemed closer to the latter, judging by the glare leveled at me.
“That’s preposterous!” He swept his arm outward, indicating the boisterous crowd. “If someone had crawled underneath the tables as you suggest, then there should be at least one person in this crowded hall that would have witnessed it!”
“Not if they were hidden in plain sight. Or, well, just hidden by another guest.”
“What are you saying?” Edgeworth crossed his arms, tapping his fingers impatiently. I turned to Larry. The tears from his eyes seemed to have been replaced with sweat.
“It’s time to ‘fess up, Larry. You should come clean while you can. There’s a reason you wore such a large suit to the party, isn’t there?” Larry gave his signature cocky grin, but he couldn’t hide the tremble.
“Oo-oopsie～☆ I guess you already figured it out, didn’t you?” As everyone stared at Larry, dumbfounded, he started fidgeting restlessly. The tears started pouring out again. “I just felt bad for the fella, y’know? All alone at home with no one around, while I’m out here schmoozing at a fancy party. You understand, don’t you, Nicky Wicky?”
A loud thump shocked the both of us out of our conversation. I turned around to catch the very look of death radiating from Edgeworth. Seems like it had been his turn to slam the table.
“Phoenix. Larry. Explain.” Larry shot me an uncertain look, so I nodded. Tell them the truth.
“Well, recently I got a roommate. It’s lonely living all on your own, and I wanted to treat Scott to a-“
“And where is this ‘Scott’ now?” Edgeworth pressed.
“He, uh-he got scared when the lights went low for the big finale, so he jumped out of my suit and…jumped on the table. He was in such a hurry, he might have broken that glass thingamajig. Then, like Nick said, he probably hid under a table…” Larry shrunk into himself a little, glancing up at the flabbergasted Edgeworth. “…or something. It was hard to see, with the lights so low. That’s why I’ve been walking all over the place; I’ve been looking for Scott.”
“You forgot to mention a key detail, Larry.” I interjected before Edgeworth could bite off the question he had opened his mouth to ask—or, more likely, demand. “Your roommate, the one you brought with-“
A loud shriek cut me off. It sounded like a bat out of hell, muffled only slightly by the long tablecloth covering the banquet tables. Before anyone could do anything but cover their ears, a lanky white cat walked out from underneath one of the tables.
“Scott!” Larry ran to embrace the raggedy animal. It let out another shriek, but Larry didn’t seem to notice it. Once it was in Larry’s arms, it started….purring? It sounded more like a motor than a purr.
“A…a cat?” It wasn’t often that Edgeworth was perplexed. He looked askance at the creature. He’d always been more of a dog person.
“That’s right. A cat broke the centerpiece.” As the cat let out another jarring yowl, I winced. Larry wouldn’t be getting any visits from me any time soon. “Not Larry. He might be guilty of caring too much for a cat, but he’s not guilty of anything this time.”
“’This time’? Whadya mean by that, Nick?!” I tried my best to ignore Larry’s protests. The more he whined, the more he sounded like his new adopted pet. They say that pets resembled their owners…
A loud cough cut off what would have been an endless tirade from Larry. Even with all the noise, the three of us froze. We turned at once to look at the mother of the newlywed wife. Her smile could’ve cut steel, it was so deadly. Her eyes looked as cold as steel, for that matter. Those eyes were locked onto Larry, only shifting momentarily when the cat yowled again. I shuddered; maybe there was something worse than Larry having the police called on him again.
In the end, Larry didn’t have to go to court. The mother of the bride explained politely how much the glass centerpiece had cost, and Larry (surrounded by an audience of family and friends of the newlywed couple) agreed to pay off the sum over time.
The whole self love thing is good and all but some people can’t fathom being loved. They can’t imagine there being anything good about them. So they can’t simply just stop doing unhealthy things, there’s a process.
If you can’t say “I love my body!” say “my body gets me from place to place.”
If you can’t say “I’m beautiful,” begin by shutting down the “I’m ugly” thoughts and saying “I’m a person.”
If you can’t say “I’m valuable” begun by shutting down the “I’m worthless” thoughts and say “all people deserve basic respect, and I’m a person.”
If you can’t say “I’m important,” or “I’m kind” say “I am the one who waters my plant every week” or “I am the one who tips the kind barista down the street” or “I am the one who makes sure my dog does not eat plastic” or “I am the one who leaves long comments on people’s fan fictions.”
This is a question people would often ask when I was going through grade school: “If you met yourself (as a separate person), what kind of relationship would you have with that other self?” And I think it’s a really thought-provoking question, because it asks you to really examine your own traits as if you were viewing someone outside of yourself. If you’ve made a habit of being kind to other people in your thoughts, it makes it a little easier to recognize the things you appreciate in yourself, too, not just others.
Recently I’ve experienced an onslaught of random memories from my K-12 days. Today’s was from freshman English, when we were watching a video of Romeo and Juliet. Our teacher had us watch it because we were reading excepts of it in class, and supposedly this version had the most period-accurate clothing of the bunch. A lot of kids would titter at the leggings the Montegues and Capulets would wear, but that’s not what got me.
No, what got me was much less than that. It came maybe halfway through the movie. There’s a scene where Romeo runs down the hill after the balcony scene with Juliet, and he just bounds down the steep forested hill like some majestic animal that’s gonna fall at any moment. My 14 year-old brain couldn’t help picturing the movie taking that turn, with poor Romeo tumbling down the side of the hill in that unnecessarily long scene. I got in trouble for not being able to control my laughter.
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