"I will," he promised, chuckling. "Let's go quickly, then. If we eat now, we'll be able to catch the last showing of the movie, right?" He wasn't half interested in the movie itself, but spending a relaxing evening with Sakura sounded like just what the doctor ordered. Literally. He could still see Tsunade's smirk as she shooed him away. Out of habit, maybe, from her aid during his rehabilitation, or maybe out of gentlemanliness, he extended one elbow to her as he reached the door.
continued from 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
“Yeah, we should have time,” she answered, keeping the panic at Tsunade’s expression out of her voice. Sakura was going to die. Why did Shishou have to see them leave? Now the entire hospital was going to be talking about them. It’s not like it was a date or anything! Unless Tsunade heard him–
She was so caught up in her inner dialogue, she slid her hand around his offered arm without a second thought.
The walk was just what she needed. They walked in silence, content to watch the comings and goings of shinobi and civilian alike in the early evening bustle. It didn’t take long until all worries were gone and she was genuinely enjoying herself. Iruka had a wonderful sense of humor and had her laughing in no time. It wasn’t until after the third or fourth curious glance she realized she was walking arm-in-arm with Iruka.
So this was a date!
Sakura glanced up at Iruka, taking in his quiet smile as he nodded to a mother walking past and couldn’t think of a single reason to keep herself from enjoying this. “How’s your class going? Have they gotten used to you yet?”
Bernie Sanders has been sincere and consistent over the course of his decades-long career in politics, and this is a large part of his appeal.
A blog that shares quotes from a man who’s stump speech has not radically changed in over thirty years faces an obvious problem: Repetition.
Going forward, in order to avoid excessive rephrasings of the same messages from the same man, this blog will also share words from others with similar points of view.
This blog hopes to show that Bernie is not original, nor alone, in his belief that as a nation we can level the playing field to allow every citizen a well-warranted optimism in their pursuit of not just money but happiness.
Each like, each share, each contribution, each rally, and–in time–each vote serves as proof.
It started when she was a young girl, just starting kindergarten. Her parents knew a lady who ran a daycare and arranged for Selene to go there after school. Every day at one o'clock, Selene would walk the three blocks to her sitter's house to play with the other children and wait for one of her parents to pick her up at six. It was there that she found Miss Kitty.
Miss Kitty was a small white stuffed cat with black spots, the perfect size for cuddling. Selene carried her everywhere she went and cried every time she had to leave Miss Kitty at the sitter's. Selene asked, one day, if she could keep Miss Kitty, since she was her best friend, but the sitter just laughed and told Selene that Miss Kitty had to stay, because once Selene was grown, she would be the best friend of other boys and girls.
Selene didn't like that.
So, one day, when all the other kids were playing in the yard, she took Miss Kitty over to the curb by the gutter. When she was sure no one was looking, she hid Miss Kitty safely in her little bag and started to cry.
"Miss M! Miss M!!"
The sitter ran over to her. "What happened, Selene? Did you get hurt? What happened?"
"Miss M-- Miss Kitty-- she fell down the drain! I tripped and she fell and I can't get her back!" She collapsed into Miss M's arms in hysterics, not to be consoled by anything.
But that night, in the darkness of her bedroom, she pulled Miss Kitty out of her bag and cuddled her close, whispering promises that she'd never let her get lost down a gutter or get hurt by some terrible child.
When she was eight, her father had an accident that kept him off work for a long time. She never knew exactly what had happened, only that his accident meant that they didn't have as much money anymore. Her mother would try to pack Selene something for lunch every day, but by the end of the month, all their food was being saved for dinners. Selene learned how to get by a whole day without lunch, but, of course, some days were worse than others.
Rich Angie-Mae--rich because her parents owned two cars that both worked--always bought lunch at school on pizza days, but never finished it all. She'd eat everything but the crusts and throw them away into the trash. Selene would watch her, clutching Miss Kitty tightly, as she delicately nibbled all the cheese off the edge, and tossed them into the garbage. Once, Selene asked her for the crusts, since she was done, and she was so hungry. But Angie-Mae just laughed, the gaping hole where her top left tooth should be angering Selene more than anything else, and threw away the crusts right in front of her.
"Get them out of there if you're so hungry. Trash-digger!"
Selene just glared as Angie-Mae and her friends laughed, silently swearing revenge.
For the next week, Selene was seated next to Angie-Mae, and every day she would take a few cents from her and her friends. Finally, on the next pizza day, Selene bought two slices for herself, eating every last crumb. She watched Angie-Mae whine about not having enough money for pizza, and smiled. Angie-Mae never even guessed it was her.
By the time she was fourteen, Selene Caro could steal anything from anyone she wanted. She always had money for new clothes and new nail polish and new makeup. Her mother almost asked her where she kept getting the money, worried about what her daughter might be doing to earn this new income, but Selene looked healthy and they had food, so she let it go. Her father, on the other hand, sat her down one night to have it out with her, speaking in slow English to choose his words carefully.
"Cara, I don't want you doing anything hurting yourself."
"Yes, papà."
"I know you want to help your family, but we will get by. Your body is your--"
"Papà! I'm not doing anything. I just find the money! Gotham people are careless."
"Selene! Se stai mentendo a me-- I'll trust you. But remember, cara, no matter who tempts you, there is not enough money in the world worth making yourself impure."
"Sì, papà. I'll remember."
At sixteen, her father was working again, long hours, but lots of pay. He was gone before she woke for school and didn't return until long after she was home, but Selene didn't mind. She got to spend more time with her mother, and that was well worth it.
"Maman, what do you think of... impurity?"
"'Impurity'? Where would you hear that?"
"Papà says I shouldn't make myself impure. He's been saying it a lot lately."
"Quel salaud! There is nothing 'impure' about you or anything you choose to do! Impurity was designed by men to keep women in their control. You listen to me, Sélène! You can do whatever you like with whoever you like, so long as you're safe about it. Comprends?"
"Oui, maman. Je comprend."
She stopped listening to her father from then on, with his constant talks of "protecting her purity" and of her "gift to her husband". Selene didn't want a husband. Boys were fun, sure, but not that fun. She had boyfriends and sometimes she had sex with them, but she only confided in her mother.
At eighteen, immediately after graduation, she left for Gotham proper, aiming to become a model. Gotham was bright and gorgeous, all glamour and lights and people. On her first paying gig, she met Stan Miller, lead photographer and all-around sleaze.
"Who's Suhleen Car-o?"
"Selene Caro."
"The hell's that? Spanish?"
"Italian."
"Y'don't look it."
"I'm half. Half-Italian, half-French."
"Yeah, well this is all-American, so if ya wanna work, ya gotta have a better name. Somethin' plain, easy to say."
"I'll work on that. Do I have a job?"
"Fiery. I like it. I think I know just the thing for you."
She saved the photos from her first shoot--a perfect 50s housewife that turned into a dominatrix--and sent a copy of the magazine to her mother, with strict instructions to never allow her father to see it.
The logo is way better though, I'll give them that.
I have major design issues with this one.
It is very mid 2000's I suppose, which is to be expected.
It always seemed a little cheap looking to me. Like they found someone in the office who knew the basics of photoshop and said "Make us a logo something or other and fast! Make sure there's lots of lens flares and a cheap stereotypical scifi font and OH! ORANGE! Make it orange! Everybody loves to have their eyes assaulted by various unrelated shades of orange. NO SCREW DESIGN PRINCIPLES. ORANGE I SAY!."
Hey everybody. Things have been pretty hectic in the last few weeks. I've been adjusting to a new city (Austin, TX), a new school (University of Texas), a new apartment, and now a new job. Thanks to my friends at The Granada Theater in Dallas, I've been able to hook up with Transmission Entertainment down here in Austin, a really great bunch of people who love music and love the town they live in. Transmission is mostly known as the folks who sponsor Funfunfun Fest, a super eclectic festival that just seems to get better every year, but most of the time they run an extensive blog on the Austin scene, live shows, and new music and I am very happy to announce that I will be writing from now on reviewing live shows in Austin and new albums. It seems like all the hours I've spent hunched over my laptop, subsisting on granola, coffee, and midwest hardcore records, pounding out reviews of albums I liked or didn't like for this little independent project have actually paid off and I have all of you people out there who have read this blog to thank for it! So thank you all very much I couldn't have done it without all of your support! Now the exact details are going to be shaken out in the next few days, but this blog may become a bit of an afterthought once I really get going with Transmission, I'm not entirely sure about that. But if you like what I have to say about music or are interested in some shows in Austin I really encourage you to come check out my column! Here is the first review I wrote of Handsome Furs' recent show at The Mohawk in Austin. Thanks everyone, I'll see you on the other side.
