Let’s talk about Mr. Crawford for a bit, shall we?
Honestly I think I’ve never been this worried about Henry Crawford and his upcoming behaviour?! And yes, I’ve read the book and watched the adaptations. Gosh, I have so many thoughts and ambivalent feelings.
FMWL team! *shakes fist*
This is not even about Frankie, you know. I actually wish Henry could eventually really begin to become a better person and recognise and learn from his many mistakes (it’s the potential for change/redemptive pattern thing I’ve talked about in other posts), but… he has to do that for himself. It’s the only way it will work. I don’t quite think he can see that now though.
You have to want to change and improve yourself, because doing it only for other people will never suffice. Changing takes effort and diligence and it’s an everyday struggle. You have to fight all those old unhealthy patterns that have been part of you and your life. It can be easy to be swallowed up by what’s familiar even if it’s not good for you, especially if you encounter something that triggers bad feelings, if you have a all-or-nothing kind of mind… It’s easier to slip back into a persona you’ve created so long ago. Sometimes you’re not even sure anymore who you are without it.
I’m remembering now that conversation from episode 61 between Henry and Frankie about being yourself vs. playing a character. Oh, the underlying layers I saw then. Frankie doesn’t know how to be anyone else other than the self she sees as hers; Henry doesn’t know how to be himself or feels uncomfortable/vulnerable being it so he has tucked it away.
Being self-aware is surely the first step towards change, but you have to truly commit yourself to become better because it’s something you want for yourself. Other people might help us see things in a different light, make us want to be a better self (and that’s noble) and support us, but they’re just catalysts in the path we have ahead of us. We have to have the backbone to walk it for ourselves. Does Henry have it? Probably not. That’s what’s frustrating for us. And it’s his tragedy.
All of this. And these tags! But most especially that last one. #(for what it's worth i don't think that either henry or ed truly deserve frankie) #(basically i support frankie and happiness)
“I can’t get her out of my head. This summer has been agonising. I know this started because of a joke but I think the joke’s on me. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I feel like Mansfield’s finally got into me. You really like her, don’t you? I think about her every day and every night. I just constantly think of ways that I can tell her that I’m not tricking her. I just want to tell her that she’s the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. Wow. I never thought I’d see the day — Henry Crawford has finally fallen for a girl. This is serious. I just, I don’t feel like myself anymore. It’s why I need to get away, for me to feel like I was before. Fine. Go on then. Go get drunk on duty-free booze, fly thousands of miles away, and try to forget about her. Although… Somehow… I don’t think that’s going to work.”
From Mansfield With Love [Mary’s videos, The Taming of the Douche]
Yes, the fic is back. I’m forever officialggf trash. Be warned- this was written at 12:52 am on a phone.
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Gilbert eyed the pile on Anne’s bed dubiously.
“You realise we’re going to college, right? As in, not the wastes of the sub-Sahara?”
Anne glanced over her shoulder from the shelf. “Your point?”
He raised his eyebrows. “They have books at Redmond. Like, a lot of books. Like real, actual libraries.”
She shrugged, tossing a red braid over her shoulder. “I’m studying literature, I think I should be prepared.”
“I’m studying Medicine,” retorted Gilbert, “and I think I should warn you that if you carry that kind of load, you will probably crush your spine and spend the rest of your days a crippled hunchback.”
She snorted derisively. “It’s not that many books! And I have complete faith in you Gil. I know you’ll cure me if it comes to it.”
“I’m going to be a cardiologist!” He protested. “And by the way, seventeen hardbacks and thirty-two paperbacks is definitely a lot of books!”
Half-an-hour later, after much persuasion, some insults, and a rather too-aggressive pillow fight, Gilbert managed to reduce Anne to the “woefully pitiful” stack of six paperbacks (although one was a Jane Austen omnibus so he insisted it was cheating. His protests fell on deaf ears. Obviously.) and a hardback poetry anthology.
Anne stacked the select few books neatly into a box and went to fetch another roll of brown tape, which, for some reason, Marilla had an industrial sized box of. Upon coming back, she found Gilbert lodged halfway into her closet. “Gilbert John Patrick Blythe,” she snapped, “what are you doing?”
He betrayed no sign of guilt as he emerged, a flower crown perched jauntily on his head. “Since we leave in, y'know, a week, shouldn’t you have packed all your clothes by now?”
She gave him a withering look. “And what would I wear during this week, hmmm? God, Diana understands this so much better.”
Gilbert smirked. “I bet that’s why Fred chose her over me- a more understanding packer.”
“Also more intelligent, kind, funny, sweet. And attractive.”
Gilbert clapped a hand to his chest. “I am hurt!”
Rolling her eyes and laughing, Anne shoved him out the way as she reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a jumper, yanking it over her head.
Two things struck Gilbert about the jumper straight away. First, Anne looked adorable in it. Her hair was all messed up from the static formed as she’d put it on, and it was a little too big for her- it covered all of her hands except the tips of her fingers, and it billowed off her slightly. It was, as Anne might say, most becoming. And, secondly- “that’s mine!”
Anne stared at him. “What?”
“That’s my sweater!”
Anne flushed so that her face matched her hair. “Um. Are you sure?”
Gilbert nodded, trying to swallow back a smile. “I’ve had it for years.”
“You must have left it here.” She stuck her chin out.
“I did. And I asked you if I did- and I seem to recall you saying you didn’t have it!”
Anne was opening and closing her mouth like a fish. “Well- I mean- look all this means is- it’s not like-”
“Hey,” he interjected, this time allowing an ear-splitting grin to adorn his face, “you can keep it.”
She recollected herself. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice, nestling into the jumper, enjoying it’s warmth, trying to ignore the fact that she was so aware that it still smelled like him.
She hurriedly picked up her copy of Wuthering Heights. “Are you sure I can’t take this,” she was talking unintelligibly quickly, “because I think-”
“Hey Shirley,” a hint of the flirtation that had always accompanied Gilbert before their friendship coloured his voice now.
“Hmm?” She was far too flustered to trust her voice right now.
He nodded at the jumper. “It looks better on you.”
“[…] scarcely ten days had passed since Fanny had been in the agitation of her first dinner-visit, when she found herself in an agitation of a higher nature, watching in the hall, in the lobby, on the stairs, for the first sound of the carriage which was to bring her a brother.
It came happily while she was thus waiting; and there being neither ceremony nor fearfulness to delay the moment of meeting, she was with him as he entered the house, and the first minutes of exquisite feeling had no interruption and no witnesses, unless the servants chiefly intent upon opening the proper doors could be called such. […]
It was long before Fanny could recover from the agitating happiness of such an hour as was formed by the last thirty minutes of expectation, and the first of fruition; it was some time even before her happiness could be said to make her happy, before the disappointment inseparable from the alteration of person had vanished, and she could see in him the same William as before, and talk to him, as her heart had been yearning to do through many a past year. That time, however, did gradually come, forwarded by an affection on his side as warm as her own, and much less encumbered by refinement or self-distrust. She was the first object of his love, but it was a love which his stronger spirits, and bolder temper, made it as natural for him to express as to feel.”
Today is Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome Awareness Day. (x)
I have been livings with Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, or CVS, since November 2010- the fall after I graduated college and started working as a bedside critical care nurse. I try to be as open as I can about my illness, most notably in this post, but I wanted to talk about it more again today.
CVS is characterized by severe episodes of nausea and vomiting that have no apparent cause, with cycles lasting hours to days. My cycles have lasted anywhere from one day to one week (2-3 weeks if you count prodrome and recovery phases). I have been hospitalized multiple times, for days a time. I legitimately can’t tell you how many times I went to the Emergency Department last year, because I can’t remember. In 2014 I spent 11 days in the hospital. It was my worst year with CVS, but it was also a really good year compared to most who suffer from the disease.
Between episodes, those afflicted with CVS can have periods of normalcy. I spend many days with no symptoms at all. Some days I don’t have a very big appetite, and some days I just feel generally queasy for no real reason other than emotional excitement or anxiety, or maybe just not getting enough sleep. Those are the days I know I need to be extra careful, and I know I need to take my extra as needed drugs to keep my body and symptoms in check, because if I throw up, I have to go to the hospital.
I have not thrown up since 2010 and been able to stop throwing up on my own. Once I throw up, my body goes into a cycle of vomiting every 20 minutes or so, as soon as there is enough accumulated bile to come up, and I have unrelenting, suffocating nausea. If I have nothing to vomit, I often just dry heave acidic foam. At it’s peak, anytime I move or try to talk, I vomit. The nausea is so severe that it alters my breathing pattern, and the vomiting is so severe and the fluid lose so great that my potassium levels rapidly deplete- so rapidly that within half a day I will have a critical potassium level if I haven’t received IV intervention. These combined factors cause my arms and legs to go numb and my hands to lock up, so that I have trouble holding a pen to sign my admission papers. In a cycle, just the thought of picking up my phone to text someone is exhausting.
There is still little known about the etiology and pathophysiology of CVS. There is not much research. Only in the past several years have professionals recognized the adult onset of the disease. Many doctors still don’t even know the disease exists, and of those that do, most doubt it’s validity and the symptoms of the suffers, particularly with adult sufferers, often attributing it to drug-seeking, dramatic behavior.
Estimates are that CVS affects about 2 percent of school aged children and maybe as many adults- the numbers are unreliable as many (especially adults) are mis- or undiagnosed. My case of CVS is pretty light so far. I only had three cycles last year. Many sufferers have cycles more than once a month. And many don’t have nearly as many well days between cycles, instead staying in a prodrome, light nausea state, where they never feel quite well. I have only had two prolonged episodes in the not actively vomiting but not quite well state (about 2 weeks each time)- just spending two weeks feeling unable and uninterested in eating, exhausted or repulsed any time I would try to eat food, was enough to fill me with hopelessness and despair. I can’t imagine how those who suffer more regularly survive physically or mentally.
Yet I spend every day knowing I may cycle again. Knowing the stories of many whose stories started like mine, before they got much worse. I’m still trying to figure out how I live in the reality that my future with this illness is completely unknown, and I am relatively powerless against it once it decides to flare up. CVS has robbed many beautiful, wonderful people of their careers, their social activities, and their general ability to LIVE.
There is NO CURE, and relatively little treatment options. There are some threads of research, mostly with childhood onset (it can begin as young as a few weeks or months old). Maybe it has to do with a genetic miscoding of mitochondrial DNA. Maybe it’s related to chronic migraines. Maybe it’s related to neurons misfiring after receiving certain signals… which is probably why taking a daily antidepressant is helpful in preventing my episodes. What we do know is that there are usually things that trigger attacks, that you may or may not be able to control; that there are several actions sufferers can try to abort an episode in it’s prodrome phase, ranging from a hot bath and a nap, to a variety of medications; and that during the vomiting cycle relief is typically only found through deep sedation. This post breaks down the stages of a cycle more specifically.
Here’s the thing. My most common trigger, and the most common trigger reported, is intense, anticipatory excitement. Getting excited but also anxious and nervous, while still gleefully anticipating something… can literally hospitalize me. Going on a date can hospitalize me. Going to a convention can hospitalize me. You know what else can hospitalize me? Working night shift (and yet my manager refuses to put me on day shift, even after I had to leave a shift halfway through and call out for the rest of the week because I was admitted to the hospital I work in). Being on my period lowers my threshold, altering my eating and sleeping patterns lowers my threshold, traveling lowers my threshold, going to the gym after work instead of going home to bed lowers my threshold. Every time I have stayed up for over 20 hours in the past 5 years I have had a cycle.
I have to live knowing that doing things that make me feel happy, and excited, and alive, might make me so sick that I can’t put anything on my stomach for a week. I am trying to find the balance of knowing and being responsible and proactive about the new limits my body has, while also not being afraid to still live. It’s hard. It’s not fair. I don’t want to live like this. It can be terrifying to think about the future. I knew that health and life can be gone in an instant because of my work in critical care, but now I know that my own personal health is fragile and fleeting.
The pictures on this post are all from my Selfie Every Day project of 2014. It begins and ends with what I like to remember from the year- times with friends, family, enjoying fellowship, enjoying geeking out over things I love, enjoying nature. But the middle posts are me during a cycle- me at my lowest point.
What’s the point of this post? I want you to know that CVS is real, CVS is debilitating, and that everyone who suffers from it is still a person full of life and personality and love underneath all the nausea and vomiting and suffering. The hardest part for most sufferers of CVS right now is that so many people, friends, family, and medical professionals, do not recognize the validity of their illness. It’s just as, if not more debilitating than chronic migraines during an episode, but it’s even less recognized (and I know all my friends who suffer from chronic migraines have the same issues- you are all rockstars to me). It can take years, sometimes decades, for many people to get a proper diagnosis, and even with a diagnosis, treatment options are variable.
What can you do for me or for other CVS sufferers? Validate our symptoms and illness, respect and protect our triggers, provide emotional support (just be there), advocate for me when I’m too ill to advocate for myself, and donate to the CVSA, which provides research, education, outreach, and support.
Okay, so I haven't really been on tumblr much, seeing as how I lack the time for it, but I really really really really really want the Gilbert/Redmond Kickstarter perk. However, I also want a couple other perks - and I can't afford everything! BUT! I'm willing to split the cost of a Gilbert perk. The more the merrier, as long as we can all agree on the shared topic for him to speak on. ;-)
Is this something that would interest anyone? If so, please send me a message! Or better, find me on twitter (@EldawenEmileia) and connect with me there (I'm more likely to see it there). :)
Anne Comes to Grief in an Affair of Honor: Truth or Dare
This is a response to ggfstoryclub's prompt for the following:
[putting possible spoilers behind the "read more"]
5. Anne falling off the _______. Parallel to Chapter 23 (Anne Comes to Grief in an Affair of Honour). Fence? Roof? Trampoline? How does she break her ankle?
It started off simply enough. One day early in summer vacation, Josie was bored on twitter (what else was new). One of her followers suggested that twitter was so boring because Gilbert had stopped posting cheesy pick-up lines, but at the same time, told her that if she was so bored, she should make things more interesting; in fact, she dared her to. But focusing on the first reason, Josie taunted Gil, including his twitter handle:
"He probably lost his sense of humour."
"Is that a dare?" Gilbert replied.
And with that, this same follower, with a bit of mischief in her, prompted a game of "Truth or Dare," to which Josie enthusiastically agreed. Ruby joined in, and the four of them played their game. It was fairly innocent, with silly, harmless truths and dares being played out.
After this, the game rested a while, but about a month later, in another fit of boredom, Josie recalled the game and talked other friends into playing. They latched onto it, as occurs with fads sometimes, and kept picking it up as a game to play whenever anyone was bored. Gradually, the dares overtook the truths as the popular choice, and by the end of summer, they were growing increasingly extreme.
It was now the end of August, the last weekend before school started. Ruby had invited a select few friends over for an old-fashioned tea party, as a sort of "final hurrah" before they would have to go back to the classroom. She sent out special invitations, complete with golden embossed calligraphy and the option to bring a "plus one," inspired by something she'd seen on Pinterest.
The Gillis family had a splendid backyard for the occasion, with a covered patio area, large lawn, tall trees with spreading, climbable branches, a marvelous playground next to a trampoline (both now little-used), and a small Japanese garden. There was a table set out on the patio with dainty, tasteful decorations, courtesy of additional Pinspiration.
On this occasion, Anne, with much talk and persuasion, had convinced Mrs Barry to let Diana be her "plus one," though she was the only one to take advantage of that option. Aside from them, others who made an appearance included Josie, Jane, Carrie, and of course, as the host, Ruby.
After the tea things had been cleared, their conversation petered out, and Josie declared boredom. This had become the cue for a game of Truth or Dare, and Carrie hit her mark, making the suggestion to play it. They all agreed, eager for a bit of excitement.
Ruby, as the host, declared she would go first, and took a dare. Carrie, eyeing the "rock wall" side of the playground, dared her to climb both up it and back down, in her heels, twice, without falling, and to do it in less than thirty seconds. Though Ruby feared injury to the shoes, she did it, much to the discomfiture of the aforesaid Carrie.
Ruby then turned to Jane, who, accepting a dare, was instructed to hop on her left leg around the yard and through the Japanese garden without stopping once or putting her right foot to the ground; which Jane gamely tried to do, but gave out just as she reached the garden, and had to confess herself defeated.
Josie, though not the originator of the dare, was rather too smug about the failure. Anne felt compelled to speak up for her friend.
"What are you so smug about, Josie? I bet you couldn't do that! Or jump off one of those swings and land on two feet. Or do a back flip on the trampoline!"
"Oh yeah?! Dare me. I dare you to dare me," she retorted.
"Okay, I dare you! Do a back flip on the trampoline!" Josie, forgetting that it was actually Jane's turn to put forth a dare, and Jane not protesting, ran across the yard to the trampoline. The sound of its squeaking springs carried across the yard as she gained the necessary height to her jump. Then Josie, with a preparatory jump forward, launched into her back flip... and then continued into a front flip, followed by a second back flip... before dismounting from the trampoline with an airy unconcern which seemed to imply that a little thing like that wasn't worth a "dare." Reluctant admiration greeted her exploit. Josie sauntered back, flushed with victory, and darted a defiant glance at Anne.
Anne tossed her red hair.
"I don't think it's such a very wonderful thing to do a couple little jumps on a trampoline. I knew a girl who could do whole obstacle courses including flips on a trampoline."
"What, like you know some Olympian? I don't believe it," said Josie incredulously. "But even if she could, you couldn't, anyhow." She eyed the playground structure, with its swings, square tower, slide, and climbing wall, with a very climbable tree next to it on the opposite side of the trampoline. "I bet you couldn't run an obstacle course of that playground, climbing from the tree, onto the railing above the climbing wall, onto the roof of the tower, walk across that beam over the swings, and finish with a jump/flip on the trampoline!"
"Couldn't I?!" cried Anne rashly.
"Then I dare you to do it, said Josie defiantly. "I dare you to complete the obstacle course I just described."
Anne turned pale, but there was clearly only one thing to be done, and she stalked toward the equipment, the rest of them following behind her.
"Don't you do it, Anne," entreated Diana. "You'll fall off and be killed. Nevermind the dare. It isn't fair to dare anyone to do something so dangerous."
"I must do it. My honor is at stake," said Anne solemnly. "I shall complete that obstacle course, Diana, or perish in the attempt. If I am killed, you are to have my pearl bead ring."
Anne climbed the tree amid breathless silence, gained the railing above the climbing wall, and gingerly succeeded in straddling the roof of the tower, inching her way across. She reached the end, and scooted over it, her feet dangling toward the beam above the swings. One foot scraped over its edge, to a chorus of "Oh!" from the other girls, but she regained her footing and balanced herself uprightly on that precarious footing, weakly smiling her reassurance to them, and started to walk along it, dizzily conscious that she was uncomfortably high up in the world and that walking playground beams was not a thing in which your imagination helped you out much. Nevertheless, she managed to take several steps before the catastrophe came. Then she swayed, lost her balance, stumbled, staggered and fell head first, arms flailing with a scream as she went—all before the dismayed group below could give a simultaneous, terrified shriek in echo.
Diana very nearly fell heir to the pearl bead ring then and there. Fortunately, one of Anne's hands managed to catch hold of the chain on one of the swings, which, though not enough to stop her descent, at least sufficed to twist her body back upright for the remainder of the fall.
"Anne, are you killed?!" shrieked Diana, throwing herself on her knees beside her friend, who was lying all white and limp on the ground. "Oh, Anne, say something and tell me you're not dead!"
To the immense relief of all the girls, and especially of Josie, who, in spite of lack of imagination, had been seized with horrible visions of a future branded as the girl who was the cause of Anne's early and tragic death, Anne took a shuddering breath, sat dizzily up and answered uncertainly:
"No, Diana, I am not dead, but I think I am rendered incapacitated."
"Where?" sobbed Carrie, "Oh where, Anne?"
Before Anne could answer, Mrs. Gillis appeared on the scene. At the sight of her, Anne tried to scramble to her feet, but sank back again with a sharp little cry of pain.
"What's the matter? Where have you hurt yourself?" demanded Mrs. Gillis.
"My ankle," gasped Anne. "Oh, Mrs. Gillis, please can you or someone drive me home? I'm sure I couldn't hop so far on one foot when Jane couldn't even hop around the garden," she added, trying (though failing) to make a joke in spite of the situation.
"I'll have Ruby's dad out here to help you to the car," was her firm reply, "but I think we'd better get you to the doctor's, first. I'll give Marilla a call."
Marilla was out in the orchard picking a bucket full of summer apples when she heard the phone ring. Slightly annoyed at the disruption, she put the bucket down and went to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Marilla, this is Ruby's mom, Jennifer. The girls were out playing and Anne had an accident."
At that moment, Marilla had a revelation. In the sudden stab of fear that pierced to her very hear she realized what Anne had come to mean to her. She would have admitted that she liked Anne—nay, that she was very fond of Anne. But now she knew in the heartbeat between two words over the phone that Anne was dearer to her than anything on earth.
Jennifer, what has happened to her?" she gasped, more white and shaken than the self-contained, sensible Marilla had been for many years.
The phone must have been on speaker, as Anne herself answered.
"Don't be very frightened, Marilla. I was walking on top of the swings and I fell off. I expect I have sprained my ankle. But, Marilla, I might have broken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things."
"I might have known you'd go and do something of the sort when I let you go to that party," said Marilla, sharp and shrewish in her very relief.
"Well, we're at the doctor's now, waiting to be seen, but we'll need you here to help with some of the paperwork, of course," Mrs. Gillis chimed in, "and—oh, my! She's fainted!"
It was quite true. Overcome by the pain of her injury, Anne had one more of her wishes granted to her. She had fainted dead away.
Matthew, hastily summoned, with Marilla went straightaway to the doctor's, where, in due time, they came to discover that the injury was more serious than they had supposed. Anne's ankle was broken.
The Streamy fan nominations are open, and shows released between November 1, 2012 and July 1, 2014 are eligible…which means Nothing Much To Do (NMTD) is eligible! If you haven’t been watching, basically it’s a really clever modern take on Shakepeare’s Much Ado About Nothing and well JUST GO CHECK IT OUT IT’S DELIGHTFUL.
And then nominate these lovely people for the Streamys!:
Nothing Much To Do for Best Comedy Series
Harriett Maire for Best Actress in a Comedy (she plays Beatrice)
Jake McGregor for Best Actor in a Comedy (he plays Benedick)
Harriett Maire, Pearl Kennedy, Jake McGregor, Matthew J. Smith, Caleb Wells, George Maunsell, Holly Parkes, David Hannah, Tina Pan, Jessica Stansfield, John Burrows, Lucie Everett-Brown, Alex MacDonald, and Reuben Hudson for Best Ensemble Cast
Even if we don’t get them nominated, hopefully we can give them more exposure because they totally deserve it. :D
eldawenemileia answered: How DO you pronounce your name? “No-VAH-chee”? “No-vah-CHEE”? “No-VAH-see”? “No-vah-SEE”? “No-VAA-chee”? “No-vaa-CHEE”? I could keep going..
All of the above!
Personally, I go for No-vah-CHEE, but people use them all
