Me:
Because when I was growing up, we were forcefed the idea that if we didn't want to be 'flipping burgers at McDonalds,' then we'd better go to college.
Therapist:
And?
Me:
And now we've all gone to college, have degrees, can't get a damn job, and the same people that told us to go to college call us entitled assholes because we refuse to flip burgers
Okay, y’all, some questions. I’m a broke college student, I don’t have the couple hundred bucks to drop on a video game console, BUT I really want to try Dragon Age (this will entail me learning how to use a controller, because I’m a failure at that right now, and it’s very stressful to have someone try to ‘teach me’ rather than figuring it out on my own). Now, I know DA is on Steam, but I also don’t have the money to drop on a computer designed for gaming. Which brings me to my questions.
Is Steam going to crash my computer and/or force me to get a new graphics card or whatever?
Is Steam playable with computer controls, or is a controller mandatory?
Is Steam going to make me significantly broker?
Does Steam demand a high level of technological capability?
Does anyone have other suggestions for a game an ADHD newbie with a fantasy obsession might enjoy?
if you are going to do historical inaccuracy, then go big. Just take it to a whole ‘nother level.
I mean like Knight’s Tale “chanting Queen at the jousting tournament ‘foxy lady’” levels of anachronism. Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters with Hansel injecting himself with insulin and Gretel wielding a multiple-shot crossbow levels of anachronism. Go for Blazing Saddles, Blackadder, Jack of All Trades, Connecticut Yankee levels of anachronism
you either have to play by the rules or throw out the book.
Go full on Xena. All of history happened at the same time. Get your legs broken by Caesar and find out Lao Tzu didn’t write that book, his wife did, and she hitting on you…all 10 years before you go meet up with Helen at Troy. Fight with Beowulf and commission Sappho within a few months of each other. Abraham and Issac? Only like 2 years before Jesus. Invent CPR and the kite during the bronze age. Watch your gal pal teach Homer how to be a better bard. Have a fucking battle of the bands in Ancient Greece. TIME IS MEANINGLESS.
Go Full On Xena
EXCELLENT. Either admit that you’re basically not following any rules ever, that you’re going Full Xena and inventing the tracheotomy the year before the Trojan War, which is also just a few years before Caesar and at the same time as Homer, or DO YOUR GODDAMN RESEARCH. Also, if your only ‘historically accurate’ thing is sexism/rape, I will sideeye the fuck out of you.
“Did you ever think you’d be this happy? No, never. Not in my wildest dreams.”
I think for most of us who grew up in the 90s, the genuine happiness of Britney Spears is easily on our top 10 wishlist for eternity.
shes taking courses so she can help her son w/ his homework like thats honestly heartwarming that she’s placing that level of importance on not just completing homework but making sure her kids learn and understand like honestly thats such a great thing to do as a parent im so happy for her
Fucking finally. A ray of fucking hope.
This woman means so much to me and I’m so happy that she gets to be as happy and content as she has always deserved
I’m not really a big fan of Miss Spears’ music but goddamn am I happy for her. Like I will support the fuck outta of her because her life has been a nightmare for so long
This put me damn near in tears; read this encounter with police that professor Steve Locke went through, and it will explain everything you need to know about being black in 21st century America. If you dont get it from this then really I’m wasting my time trying to explain it.
“This is what I wore to work today.
On my way to get a burrito before work, I was detained by the police.
I noticed the police car in the public lot behind Centre Street. As I was walking away from my car, the cruiser followed me. I walked down Centre Street and was about to cross over to the burrito place and the officer got out of the car.
“Hey my man,” he said.
He unsnapped the holster of his gun.
I took my hands out of my pockets.
“Yes?” I said.
“Where you coming from?”
“Home.”
Where’s home?”
“Dedham.”
How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
He was next to me now. Two other police cars pulled up. I was standing in from of the bank across the street from the burrito place. I was going to get lunch before I taught my 1:30 class. There were cops all around me.
I said nothing. I looked at the officer who addressed me. He was white, stocky, bearded.
“You weren’t over there, were you?” He pointed down Centre Street toward Hyde Square.
“No. I came from Dedham.”
“What’s your address?”
I told him.
“We had someone matching your description just try to break into a woman’s house.”
A second police officer stood next to me; white, tall, bearded. Two police cruisers passed and would continue to circle the block for the 35 minutes I was standing across the street from the burrito place.
“You fit the description,” the officer said. “Black male, knit hat, puffy coat. Do you have identification.”
“It’s in my wallet. May I reach into my pocket and get my wallet?”
“Yeah.”
I handed him my license. I told him it did not have my current address. He walked over to a police car. The other cop, taller, wearing sunglasses, told me that I fit the description of someone who broke into a woman’s house. Right down to the knit cap.
Barbara Sullivan made a knit cap for me. She knitted it in pinks and browns and blues and oranges and lime green. No one has a hat like this. It doesn’t fit any description that anyone would have. I looked at the second cop. I clasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking.
“For the record,” I said to the second cop, “I’m not a criminal. I’m a college professor.” I was wearing my faculty ID around my neck, clearly visible with my photo.
“You fit the description so we just have to check it out.” The first cop returned and handed me my license.
“We have the victim and we need her to take a look at you to see if you are the person.”
It was at this moment that I knew that I was probably going to die. I am not being dramatic when I say this. I was not going to get into a police car. I was not going to present myself to some victim. I was not going let someone tell the cops that I was not guilty when I already told them that I had nothing to do with any robbery. I was not going to let them take me anywhere because if they did, the chance I was going to be accused of something I did not do rose exponentially. I knew this in my heart. I was not going anywhere with these cops and I was not going to let some white woman decide whether or not I was a criminal, especially after I told them that I was not a criminal. This meant that I was going to resist arrest. This meant that I was not going to let the police put their hands on me.
If you are wondering why people don’t go with the police, I hope this explains it for you.
Something weird happens when you are on the street being detained by the police. People look at you like you are a criminal. The police are detaining you so clearly you must have done something, otherwise they wouldn’t have you. No one made eye contact with me. I was hoping that someone I knew would walk down the street or come out of one of the shops or get off the 39 bus or come out of JP Licks and say to these cops, “That’s Steve Locke. What the FUCK are you detaining him for?”
The cops decided that they would bring the victim to come view me on the street. The asked me to wait. I said nothing. I stood still.
“Thanks for cooperating,” the second cop said. “This is probably nothing, but it’s our job and you do fit the description. 5′ 11″, black male. One-hundred-and-sixty pounds, but you’re a little more than that. Knit hat.”
A little more than 160. Thanks for that, I thought.
An older white woman walked behind me and up to the second cop. She turned and looked at me and then back at him. “You guys sure are busy today.”
I noticed a black woman further down the block. She was small and concerned. She was watching what was going on. I focused on her red coat. I slowed my breathing. I looked at her from time to time.
I thought: Don’t leave, sister. Please don’t leave.
The first cop said, “Where do you teach?”
“Massachusetts College of Art and Design.” I tugged at the lanyard that had my ID.
“How long you been teaching there?”
“Thirteen years.”
We stood in silence for about 10 more minutes.
An unmarked police car pulled up. The first cop went over to talk to the driver. The driver kept looking at me as the cop spoke to him. I looked directly at the driver. He got out of the car.
“I’m Detective Cardoza. I appreciate your cooperation.”
I said nothing.
“I’m sure these officers told you what is going on?”
“They did.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“From my home in Dedham.”
“How did you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Where is your car?”
“It’s in the lot behind Bukhara.” I pointed up Centre Street.
“Okay,” the detective said. “We’re going to let you go. Do you have a car key you can show me?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my car key.”
“Okay.”
I showed him the key to my car.
The cops thanked me for my cooperation. I nodded and turned to go.
“Sorry for screwing up your lunch break,” the second cop said.
I walked back toward my car, away from the burrito place. I saw the woman in red.
“Thank you,” I said to her. “Thank you for staying.”
“Are you ok?” She said. Her small beautiful face was lined with concern.
“Not really. I’m really shook up. And I have to get to work.”
“I knew something was wrong. I was watching the whole thing. The way they are treating us now, you have to watch them. ”
“I’m so grateful you were there. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Don’t leave, sister.’ May I give you a hug?”
“Yes,” she said. She held me as I shook. “Are you sure you are ok?”
“No I’m not. I’m going to have a good cry in my car. I have to go teach.”
“You’re at MassArt. My friend is at MassArt.”
“What’s your name?” She told me. I realized we were Facebook friends. I told her this.
“I’ll check in with you on Facebook,” she said.
I put my head down and walked to my car.
My colleague was in our shared office and she was able to calm me down. I had about 45 minutes until my class began and I had to teach. I forgot the lesson I had planned. I forget the schedule. I couldn’t think about how to do my job. I thought about the fact my word counted for nothing, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t a criminal. They had to find out. My word was not enough for them. My ID was not enough for them. My handmade one-of-a-kind knit hat was an object of suspicion. My Ralph Lauren quilted blazer was only a “puffy coat.” That white woman could just walk up to a cop and talk about me like I was an object for regard. I wanted to go back and spit in their faces. The cops were probably deeply satisfied with how they handled the interaction, how they didn’t escalate the situation, how they were respectful and polite.
I imagined sitting in the back of a police car while a white woman decides if I am a criminal or not. If I looked guilty being detained by the cops imagine how vile I become sitting in a cruiser? I knew I could not let that happen to me. I knew if that were to happen, I would be dead.
Nothing I am, nothing I do, nothing I have means anything because I fit the description.
I had to confess to my students that I was a bit out of it today and I asked them to bear with me. I had to teach.
After class I was supposed to go to the openings for First Friday. I went home.”
Honestly, if any person of color sees something like this please stay and comfort them. We need to protect our black brothers and sisters. They are a target in this racist shitty country. We don’t need another innocent life taken away.
Is there anything that I could do if I ever see anything like this. While I may be Jewish I am not black so I want to know what I can do to be of help and support in situations like these.
What can I do to be supportive and ally and helpful in this situation.
I would like to know what my best course of actions is so that I can be supportive.
I feel like my guts reactions which would be to yell at the cops might endanger their victims life.
Would filming what is happening be the best course, should I say anything. I am only asking because I just don’t know.
First off, I have never been in a situation like this. I have had to deal with the police, and it is never pleasant, but never in the role of the accused. That being said, I am mixed and this is something I think about a lot. This is the advice I would give to my white friends:
* If you don’t know the person involved, stay far back enough that you’re not “part” of the situation and film it. It’s ok if the cops see you filming (depending on the situation, it might help), but don’t do anything to attract attention. If you’re addressed by the cops and they ask you to stop filming, politely decline. If it seems like they’re going to escalate the situation, back away further but try to continue watching and/or filming without being noticed.
* If you do know the person and are white(-passing), I would personally find it comforting to go up to the person and officers with a friendly / concerned demeanor. Something like “hey <person>! what’s going on? is everything ok?” don’t interfere, but do stay to watch as a Concerned Member of the Community. I’m not sure if filming would be helping in this case, but see the next point.
* If the person in question gets into a police vehicle, PLEASE FILM THAT IF AT ALL POSSIBLE. Verbally confirm the date, time, and location, as well as the situation as you understand it. That will be helpful if something happens while they’re in custody.
* If you do know the person and can provide an accurate, verifiable alibi, try to do so calmly and respectfully. This is especially helpful if you’re white(passing), because you’re simply more likely to be believed.
* If nothing else, do that that sister did: stay and bear witness. If you understand nonverbal communication, try to communicate that you are compassionate toward the person being detained, not judgmental.
Things not to do:
* Get aggressive toward the cops.
* Try to intervene physically.
* Try to intervene at all if the situation seems volatile.
* Say anything about the person in question if you are not 100% confident it is accurate and verifiable. You don’t want to complicate their testimony.
If anyone has corrections / additions, please share them. This is mostly hypothetical for me.
gather round tumblr it’s time for a story about why you shouldn’t solicit conversation with a stranger with a put down about their generation
i sat down about 30 minutes ago in the lobby of a very nice hotel, intending to do some writing. i have my laptop and my cellphone. as i settled, i checked some stuff on my phone, then turned to my laptop. because there aren’t many plugs, i’m sitting in a cluster of couches and instead of being by myself there’s an he’s an older gentleman across from me, polo shirt, salt and pepper hair. was very polite when i asked if he minded if i tucked myself in the corner of the couch
but apparently
apparently
he thinks computers are full of satan or something
because no sooner have i opened up goddamn word when he goes, “you kids and your electronics.”
ah, excellent, unsolicited conversation with a perfect stranger that comes with a critique of modern communication. fight me, bro, you got no idea who you’re tangling with. so naturally i push up my metaphorical sleeves (metaphorical because i’m in a goddamn resort and pavement is melting; i’m wearing a very nice goddamn dress and i’d look like a fucking soccer mom named helen if i had blonde hair) and very politely, i smash his face into the floor with “i’m sorry?” in an utterly flabbergasted tone because dude wtf and no one delivers slick put downs when they’re caught off guard
“i’m here reading my newspaper and after this my wife and i are going on a hike” (lol good luck with that dude the pavement is melting and you want to hike in the mountains) “and we’re going to interact with each other.” he gives my computer a v pointed look
naturally, i have the perfect response to this. it is pithy and eloquent and will surely put him in his place: “i… like to write, and it’s easier on a laptop?”
“it seems to me” (HERE WE GO) “that your generation” (OH GOOD) “is losing the ability to interact with other people.” (O OK) “my grandchildren never take their eyes off their cellphones anymore!”
and here he pauses and looks at me. as if he expects me to agree.
so i say “you were born in the 50s, right?” he says he was born in 59. “well, it seems to me that your generation is really fond of adultery, embezzlement, and corporate fraud, among other things, and i’m really enjoying paying for your retirement.”
i admit: i had this line canned after a little snarl i had with my mom the other night.
he stares at me. i stare back.
“you also realize,” i say, quickly typing socrates kids these days quote into google, “that people have been saying kids these days since socrates said, and i quote, children now love luxury. they have bad manners. contempt for authority. they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise.” i look up at him. he’s staring at me still.
i’m shaking because man fuck confrontation but also how hilarious is this because i literally had a fight with my mom about this twelve hours ago. i literally have a cranky tweet about it. “so it seems to me that making sweeping generalizations about people based on pretty arbitrary age groupings is kind of ridiculous since i’m pretty sure you’re not cheating on your wife or stealing from your company.”
he goes beat red because now i’m embarrassed him, and i feel really fucking bad because i didn’t mean to embarrass him, but also hey dude fuck you
SO OF COURSE he says “did your parents teach you any manners?”
and there goes the last of my embarrassment because hey fuck you dude the only person who can insult my parents is fucking me. and i say, without even thinking because this is when you have the snappiest rejoinders, “well they did teach me not to open unsolicited conversation with a stranger by insulting them so.”
at this point the dude’s wife shows up and they leave, and the waiter asks me if i want anything to drink and i’m like “yes please give me all your vodka” but instead i say “ice water” because the pavement is melting and if i puke from nerves after that, i don’t want to snort alcohol out my nose
