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Once upon a time scientists thought the world was flat.
Then they discovered chromosomes .
(these two events have nothing to do with each other, I'm simply using them of references to establish a time line)
Scientists discovered the (X) Chromosome and (Y) chromosome. The pattern in which these chromosomes occur decides whether someone is born (male) or (female).
All eggs start out with with (XX), female. Then once fertilized a surge of hormones in the uterus decide whether a fetus stays female or becomes male.
This path to maleness or femaleness originates at the moment of meiosis, when a cell divides to produce gametes, or sex cells having half the normal number of chromosomes. During meiosis the male XY sex-chromosome pair separates and passes on an X or a Y to separate gametes; the result is that one-half of the gametes (sperm) that are formed contains the X chromosome and the other half contains the Y chromosome. The female has two X chromosomes, and all female egg cells normally carry a single X. The eggs fertilized by X-bearing sperm become females (XX), whereas those fertilized by Y-bearing sperm become males (XY).
That was a lot of science talk, I'm sorry. But are you with me so far? Good.
So... time skip...
Due to ADVANCES IN SCIENCE (dun dun dun... oh no! that means somethings going to change!) scientists have now discovered that this isn't always the case! They have found that their are MORE THEN TWO POSSIBLE CHROMOSOME PATTERNS! (le gasp!). So what does this mean?
(get ready for some more SCIENCE!)
Some genetic men possess an extra X chromosome (XXY) or more rarely, two or three extra Xs (XXXY, XXXXY); they typically produce low levels of testosterone, leading to less-developed masculine sexual characteristics and more-developed feminine characteristics than other men. In contrast, some men receive an extra Y chromosome (XYY) in the genetic lottery (and while they have been referred to as "supermales" that is more sensationalism than science).
Some genetic women have only one X chromosome; they often display less-developed female sexual characteristics than other women. And people with a genetic mosaic possess XX chromosomes in some cells and XY in others.
Even if you get the "right" combination of sex chromosomes, it's no guarantee that you'll fit into the little boxes society has defined as of male and female.
For example, genetic women (XX) with congenital adrenal hyperplasia produced unusually high levels of virilizing hormones in utero and develop stereo typically masculine sexual characteristics, including masculinized genitals.
Similarly, genetic men (XY) with complete androgen insensitivity syndrome don't respond to male hormones and fail to develop masculine sexual characteristics. Most live their lives as women.
So what does this mean for society?
Some people with penises are more feminine and some people without penises are masculine.
The way we characterize this difference is called GENDER.
(I know it's scary, but please, stay with me!)
Sex refers to what sexual organs you have. There are two kids of sexual organs, MALE and FEMALE. And there fore four possible combonations
but! We're not done.
Gender refers to your mind, behavior and thought patterns; wither someone displays more 'masculine qualities' or 'feminine qualities' , which is in part determined by you chromosomal patters (which we have now learned has MANY MANY options) and how you were raised/ influenced throughout your life (nature vs nurture debate is on going).
Since the discovery of these chromosomal patters that differentiate from (XX) and (XY) scientists realized that not only does your sexual organs not always match your personality qualities but that their is a
(wait for it..... )
SPECTRUM OF POSSIBILITIES!
Now referred to as Gender Spectrum.
This is Science (biology, sociology and psychology)
So since there are more then two options we need more then two classifications, but unlimited possible patters mean way too many classifications for people to keep straight.
Non-Binary is a good start. it's an umbrella term for anyone who doesn't fit into either the 'masculine' or feminine' box.
But mostly what it means is;
Once scientists thought the world was flat.
Once scientists thought that the earth is the center of the Universe and that all other objects move around it.
Once scientists believed illnesses could be cured by bloodletting.
Once scientists believed the Earth was constantly growing and shrinking in size.
Once scientists thought frogs and toads could give you warts.
Once scientists thought lightening never struck the same place twice.
Once scientists thought there were only two genders.
Science changes, people. Get with the times. Educate yourselves.
This has been A Science Lesson with Professor Lee.
Thanks and Have a nice day
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It's live! We've finally hit the release day for Earning His Trust, which originally started here on GA as No Flash. AND guess what? It's 30% off at Dreamspinner Press through the 8th! You can get it there for just $3.49 if you haven't already.Purchase Links:Dreamspinner Press: https://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/books/earning-his-trust-by-alicia-nordwell-8830-bUniversal Amazon Link: http://mybook.to/earninghistrustBarnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/earning-his-trust-alicia-nordwell/1126959085?ean=2940158790324
Evin lost the only two men he ever loved. But he might get a second chance with one of them—if he’s willing to take the risk.
Following the death of his husband, Evin is living in Portland and raising the infant son they had through a surrogate. Six-month-old Micah is his life, and if it means no time for activities or friendships beyond his minuscule support network, that’s a sacrifice Evin is willing to make. When he suffers a burn baking teething biscuits, the last person Evin expects to encounter in the ER is Ben, his lover from college—and the man who left him without a word of explanation.
Ben knows it won’t be easy to earn Evin’s trust and prove he’s not the same man Evin once knew, but he can’t bear to watch Evin struggle to care for Micah, hurting and alone. He wants back in Evin’s life, as a friend and hopefully more, but Evin’s heart is fragile, and the years have changed him too.
The curtain slid on the overhead rails, and Evin held in his urge to snap about how long it took to get to him when the nurse said the ER was slow, but he froze with his mouth open.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Perez. I see you burn—” The doctor snapped his jaw shut and stopped before he reached the head of the bed. Micah was oblivious, sitting between his legs and playing with his fake keys, chewing away on the rubber tips and drooling. He clutched the soggy remains of a biscuit in his other hand.
Evin had to swallow hard himself. Of all the hospitals, in all the cities, his old boyfriend had to be in this one.
He looked… good. Older, some wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. It had been… how long since he’d seen him? Not since Ben was graduating medical school the same year Evin was graduating with a business degree. Evin certainly never expected to see him here, and by the shocked look on Ben’s face, he hadn’t known Evin lived in Portland either. Evin waited for Ben to say something else, but he just kept staring. Evin took a deep breath. He could be an adult. He was a dad now.
“Burned my hand,” he finished the sentence Ben never did. “I did it about an hour ago, and it really hurts.” Maybe he could move this along. Plus, Micah was on his third biscuit and getting fussy again. He probably needed to be changed, have some lunch, and then would fall asleep for the afternoon, just so he could keep Evin up all night again.
Ben dropped his gaze to Micah and then looked up to stare at Evin again. “What happened to you?”
Did he mean how Evin probably looked like he’d aged at least ten years since Ben bailed right before graduation, the last night they’d spoken? Well, spoken wasn’t a very good description for the fight they’d had after weeks of Ben ducking Evin’s questions about what he was planning. Maybe their relationship had run its course; maybe it was better for them not to be together.
But he’d never expected Ben to just up and leave. It’d been hard, but Evin had a job offer in Portland and he’d taken it. Fortunately, his best friend, Gianna, came with him, and they got an apartment together in a not-so-great area of Happy Valley. It’d been nice to have a friend he knew would stick by him, but then she met Carl, and they fell in love. Not long after that he met someone, but that had gone wrong too.
Gone was the bright, glittery guy who lit up the room in a flash, and this version of himself was all Evin knew how to be anymore. It was probably a disappointment. His hair was cut short instead of hanging down to his shoulders, and he was in a blue T-shirt and a pair of gray sweats instead of skintight everything. Nothing at all like how Ben would remember him.
Was he wondering how in the hell Evin had a kid, since he’d never even kissed a girl—at least before when Ben knew him? Probably.
Or had he brushed off their history, leaving Evin as the only one thinking about how the years had changed them—Ben definitely for the better. Most likely, he meant how Evin got the burn. He was a professional after all, and Evin was probably just another patient to him.
In the end, it didn’t really matter. His appearance, how he got hurt, it all came down to just one thing.
1 (15.25 ounce) pkg. devil's food cake mix
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 pkg. Andes Mints
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
In a large bowl, combine cake mix, oil and eggs.
Drop spoonfuls of dough onto a baking sheet.
Bake for 6-9 minutes.
Take baking sheet out of oven and while cookies are still very hot, place an Andes Mint on top of each cookie.
In about 5 minutes, the mint will be melted. Take a spoon and smooth out each mint like frosting.
Note: I have found it easier to buy a bag of the andes mint pieces (can be found with the chocolate chips). I mix some into the batter, and then melt the rest to drizzle over top of the cookies instead of using full Andes Mints and having to wait for them to melt and then spread them. You could also melt the extra pieces and dip the cookies and place them on wax paper.
*Recipe courtesy of Six Sisters
As most of my friends were graduating college and moving on with their lives, I was getting left behind. I couldn't afford to finish school and worked my life away. Every day waking up and doing the same thing. Go to work. Go to a second job. Go to sleep. Repeat. It was horrible and I started falling into a pretty dark depression. Writing was the one thing I could turn to that would make me feel happy. Make me feel like me again.
Any free time I had I would try and write something. Many ideas came and went, just like all writers, but one idea stuck with me. A story about Patrick and his college experience. For months I wrote about him, his friends, his school, his loves. All these different stories making me feel nostalgic for college but helping lift my spirits. I fine tuned his adventures and compiled things into a neat little snippet of his freshman year. From move in day to the start of winter break. It wasn't half bad either. Something I rarely said about my own work. In those weeks, The CSU Stories were born.
Most of my projects sit on a computer or notebook somewhere and are never seen again. It didn't feel right for Patrick to fade into obscurity though. I shared the story with my Mom. An editing queen and published author herself, she read the story and was not shy about leaving her remarks. At first I felt discouraged. Like maybe it was garbage that I wrote but then I got to the last page. She wrote a paragraph telling me how proud she was of me and how amazing the story was and would be after I finished the editing process. Something a Mother had to say.
It spurred me on. I edited everything she marked and resubmitted it her. Round two of edits came down and I flew through them. Patrick was finished and ready to be something. What I didn't know. My Mom suggested I make it an ebook and I thought she was crazy. No one would want to read it. She pushed me until I finally did and in 2013, Patrick was released on Amazon. Four years later we worked together to make Patrick a paperback as well. It's been an amazing journey to this point but I'm proud of the work we did. Now almost six years since I started work on Patrick the next book in the series will be releasing on Friday!
You can get Patrick on Amazon in either format at https://goo.gl/szVDR5
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I've been instructed to write this letter. For my actions and reactions to an issue with a friend. I did not handle myself in an appropriate way. Being irrational.
I apologize to the Sirs I disrespected. With the way I may have addressed them. Along with not honoring with proper title. I deeply regret my actions to you. I've embarrassed myself and Sir.
I promise to be more mindful in future. Respecting Sirs and friends. Showing respect and settling my issues directly with individuals involved.
I hope you can forgive my outbursts and current irrational behavior. I'm working through what I need too. With Sir, and hopefully Dr. help.
Time to dust this blog thing off.... I haven't written anything since November 2015.
So over the last few months I have come to the decision that moving back to the Maryland area was the wrong decision. While it may help with my career aspirations, I really want to move away.
I pretty much have decided if I stay with Big Red (even though our colors changed the nickname sticks) I will either land up in Colorado or Minnesota. While Minnesota would be preferred I am not ruling anything out. I was given a heads up on an opening that is coming and I have been waiting for it to post.
When I told a few co-workers my plan/idea... all my old boss could say was I told you so. When I chose to come back East I pretty much ignored the reasons I left which was a huge mistake. My boss new she couldn't talk me out of it as family was weighing on my mind heavily. Now that I am back I miss it.
Yes it could get really cold out there. I learned what -50 felt like. Which is why when it is 20 degrees you will catch me in short sleeve shirt with no jacket.
I bought a house here.... yeah it was cheaper than rent. The commute of one and half hours to two is killing me and the gas costs are though the roof.
Friends... everyone complained I was too far away in Iowa. I moved closer and I am still too far. Despite the fact they go to the outlets 10 minuets from me.
My parents seem ok with idea of me moving back. They noticed I am not as happy as I was. Actually a lot of people have. I need to do what makes me happy.
My health... I was better off. No issues at all. No chest pain or kidney issues. I will find out Monday what they want to do about my right kidney. 10 months since the stone removal and it drains at a snails pace. I had a scan a few Friday's ago and the contrast was still chilling in my Kidney 45 minutes later. I also have another stone that may require surgery to remove.
Here's to hoping I can pull this off.... maybe with relo this time so I am not paying out of pocket.
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So, I'm writing again. I'm sure that'll excite the 2.7 people who remember when I used to post stories here.
I don't think I've had writers block, it's just rare that opportunity and inspiration intersect in my schedule these days. The only reason I'm even writing this week is because I'm recovering from surgery to insert plates in my face. Bad hockey injury, cheekbone broken in three places. Do not recommend.
Anyway, would really appreciate feedback on the prologue I've been working on. I have thirty-two chapters mapped out in Scrivener, so hopefully the words start to flow nicely now that I've figured out the beginning.
“Hey Jordy, what’s orange and sounds like a parrot?”
Stuart Bomford delivered the joke like a seasoned late-night comedian, despite the fact that his current audience consisted of a solitary, disinterested teenager.
“You know you tried that one on me last week, right?”
Jordan Russell didn’t even bother to look at his best friend, choosing instead to bounce the basketball in his right hand three times and bring it smoothly to his right hip, before calmly swishing another free throw. It was a routine that had served him well over the years, delivering countless made baskets in a string of high school gyms, and it looked certain to deliver another victory today as Jordan collected the ball and jogged back to the makeshift free throw line on his driveway.
“You really need some new material, Stu.” Jordan moved back into his shooting routine, needing just one more made basket to win the game. He bounced the ball three more times with his right hand, brought it smoothly back to his right hip, and then, just as he was about to flick his wrist…
“Why wasn’t Cinderella very good at basketball?”
Jordan paused in the middle of his shooting motion, momentarily distracted by the question. Had Stuart actually sourced some new material? He glanced sideways at his best friend, curious to know both the material’s origin and the source of Cinderella’s woes.
“Are you gonna finish the joke or what?” Jordan asked, continuing to stare at his friend. He got nothing but a shit-eating grin in return.
“Ugh, you’re such a dick.” Perturbed by Stuart’s lack of response, Jordan resumed his shooting routine, bouncing the ball three more times with his right hand before…
“Her coach was a pumpkin!”
The punchline was delivered at the exact moment of Jordan’s release, causing him to miss the shot wide right. The ball clanged off the side of the rim and straight into Stuart’s grasp.
“HA!” Stuart briefly held the ball aloft, before swooping past Jordan’s outstretched hand and dribbling it back towards the half-court line.
“I feel violated.” Jordan shook his head at Stuart’s childish humour, annoyed at both his poor execution and his inability to keep a straight face. “That joke was terrible.”
“Suck it up, princess.” Stuart had zero remorse for his actions, especially now that the ball was back in his possession. “You had your chance. Deal with it.”
The pair began to size each other up again, like they’d done thousands of times before in this setting. Though Jordan was the quicker and more skillful of the two, Stuart was able to hold his own by utilising superior size and strength. Their backyard games of twenty-one often came down to the final shot.
“You know I’m gonna beat you, right?” Stuart spoke the words with absolute confidence, though he was still trailing by two baskets. “Like Chris Brown beat Rihanna.”
“Settle down. Jesus.”
Jordan gestured toward his eight-year-old brother, Rory, who was playing with his Transformers just a handful of metres away. Though Rory appeared blissfully unaware of Stuart’s vulgarity, he was known to repeat their words at the most inopportune times.
“I forgot you’re on babysitting duty.” Stuart at least had the grace to look mildly embarrassed. “Wouldn’t want you to be grounded again.”
“Whatever.” Jordan dismissed his friend’s faux concern, instead focusing on the defensive task in front of him. “You gonna shoot the ball or what?”
“Oooooh, talk dirty to me.” Stuart began dribbling the ball again, though he made no immediate attempt to attack the basket.
“Come on, get on with it.” Stuart continued to dribble the ball, hoping that Jordan would become impatient and potentially be lured into a mistake.
“Seriously, do you want a written invitation?” Right on cue, Jordan started pushing up into Stuart’s personal space, attempting to push him further and further away from the basket.
“Do you… DAMN IT!” Jordan pushed into Stuart’s left shoulder again, but this time Stuart used his momentum against him and muscled his way past for an easy layup.
“You really are too predictable sometimes.” Stuart dribbled the ball back to the halfway line, grinning all the while.
“Try it again,” Jordan challenged, immediately crowding his personal space again. He was now bouncing on the balls of his feet, mirroring Stuart’s every move, determined to steal the ball away and put an end to the charade.
“You really need to work on that first step, Stu.” Jordan was more in control of his aggression now, staying in front every time Stuart jab-stepped and attempted to catch him unawares. “It’s almost as bad as your haircut.”
“Screw you, boyband.” Stuart used his non-dominant hand to flip Jordan the bird, briefly leaving the ball exposed.
“DAMN IT!” Jordan darted to his left and made a quick swipe at the ball, missing by mere millimetres. The move did force Stuart to pick up his dribble, however, meaning that he’d now be forced to shoot from where he was standing or risk a double-dribble violation.
“Sucked in.” Jordan planted his feet and raised both hands in the air, knowing that all he had to do was wait for Stuart to attempt an unlikely 33ft jump shot.
“You’re a dick, you know that?” Stuart let out an exasperated sigh, annoyed that he’d been checkmated. “I don’t know why the fuck I play with you sometimes.”
“Hey, easy on the language.” Jordan gestured toward his little brother again, still quietly playing with his Transformers in the front garden.
“Yeah yeah, whatever.”
Neither of them cared to the repeat the ‘What’s a Dirty Sanchez?’ incident from three weeks ago, especially now that Jordan’s mother knew how to use Urban Dictionary.
“Anyway,” Jordan turned his attention back to Stuart, “you may as well shoot. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Whatever.” Stuart again sized up his options, however limited they were, and made a quick decision. Flipping the bird once more in Jordan’s face, he spun away to his right and planted both sneakers on the pavement, before leaping high into the air over Jordan’s outstretched hand.
“KOBE!!!!!!!” He shouted the name of his basketball idol, hoping to emulate his feats as he released a one-handed hook shot that could only be described as a ‘prayer’.The ball sailed over the top of the backboard and landed on the garage roof.
“Nice job, dickhead.”
“Language!” Stuart mocked Jordan’s earlier chastening, as both boys moved to stand next to the garage. “You know what happened last time.”
Jordan mirrored Stuart’s earlier middle-finger gesture, before beginning to assess their options.
“What are we gonna do?” Stuart asked, acutely aware that the game was still tied at 20-20.
“Climb up.” Jordan pointed toward the wooden frame attached to the garage’s side wall, originally installed by his father to train an ivy plant.
“You want me to climb this thing?” Stuart inspected the latticework more closely. Though it had hand and foot gaps big enough to accommodate an adult, he seriously doubted its ability to carry his 6’3”, 100kg frame.
“Unless you have a better idea?”
“Don’t you guys have a ladder or something?” Stuart pushed and pulled at the wooden frame’s joints, wincing as they made a groaning sound. “Surely your dad owns a ladder?”
“Don’t think so.” Jordan made no immediate move to test this theory.
“Can you at least check?” Stuart rolled his eyes, watching as Jordan opened the side door to the garage and began rummaging through its contents.
He returned after a minute or so. “Nope. No ladder.”
“What about a broom? A rake?”
“Maybe.” Jordan went back into the garage, emerging a few seconds later with a broom.
“Thank you.” Stuart took the broom from Jordan’s grasp and attempted to poke the ball loose, but the handle wasn’t long enough. Even with a running leap, he came up two and a half feet short.
“Fuck sake.” Stuart cast the broom aside in frustration, earning another 'look' from Jordan. “Is there anything else we can use?”
“Not unless a ladder has materialised in the last sixty seconds.” Jordan’s sarcasm wasn’t appreciated by Stuart. He checked the garage again anyway, unsurprisingly coming up empty. “Nope, definitely nothing.”
“What are we gonna do then?” Stuart asked, inspecting the latticework again. He still didn’t trust its integrity. “I really don’t think this will hold my weight.”
“You sure?” Jordan inspected the wooden frame himself, eliciting the same groaning sound that Stuart heard earlier.
“Okay.” Jordan surveyed their other options again, quickly dismissing a rake that was the same length as the broom and a fence that was too far away from the garage wall. His attention returned to the wooden frame, as he inspected it more closely. The structure groaned each time he pulled at it, but it actually seemed to maintain its structural integrity. It wouldn’t be able to hold Stuart’s weight, but maybe it could hold a smaller mass.
Jordan’s brother looked up from the battle between Megatron and Optimus Prime, a brief flash of apprehension in his eyes. “Yeah…?”
“Need a massive favour, buddy.”
“What…?” Rory hoped that he’d misheard the conversation he wasn’t supposed to be listening to.
“We need you to climb up on the roof and get the ball down.”
Rory looked all the way up to the top of the garage, to where the ball was wedged behind the backboard, before looking back down at his brother.
“I left my other ball at Stu’s.” Jordan added a pleading tone to his voice, as Stuart nodded to confirm the story. “Can you please help us?”
“I dunno…” Rory placed his Transformers down on the grass, but didn’t make any move to stand.
“You won’t get into trouble.” Jordan offered Rory his biggest and most comforting smile, though he had no ability to promise such a thing.
“What if dad comes home?” Rory asked, still not convinced. “What if mum comes home?”
“Dad’s at work, Mum’s at the supermarket.” Jordan truly had an answer for everything. “They won’t be back for ages.”
“But what if they come back early?”
Jordan could see that Rory’s defenses were beginning to wear down. He watched as he broke off a blade of grass and began to fidget.
“If you do it, I’ll take you to McDonald’s.” Jordan moved to seal the deal now, smiling as the fidgeting stopped.
Rory finally climbed to his feet, taking Jordan’s promise at face value. With a whimper, he accepted a leg-up from Jordan and began to slowly climb the latticework, the structure easily supporting his lesser weight. Eventually reaching the top without issue, he slowly crawled across the roof to dislodge both the lost basketball and a couple of long-forgotten tennis balls.
Then he made the mistake of looking down.
“I-I’m scared, Jordy.” Rory’s bottom lip began to quiver, as he realised the enormity of his predicament. He was frozen to the spot, unable to lift even a single finger. Tears began splashing onto the corrugated iron beneath him. “H-Help me!”
“It’s ok, buddy.” Jordan was regretting his decision now, as he watched helplessly from ground level. Many, many metres below. “I’ll help you get down.”
“B-but I’m s-s-scared.” Rory’s trembling grew more pronounced, as the tears continued to fall. “I don’t wanna get caught.”
“You won’t get caught.“ Jordan gave Rory his warmest and most comforting smile, in the hope that it would be enough to settle him down. “Mum and Dad won’t be back for ages.”
“B-But Dad said not to climb on the roof!” Rory continued to argue against climbing on the roof, even as he sat atop it. “I’m gonna be in real big trouble if he finds out.”
“You’d better get a move on, then.”
Before the words had even fully left his mouth, Stuart found himself in Jordan’s cross hairs. The comment was meant to be sarcastic, meant to be taken as a joke, but it had only served to upset Rory further.
“Not helping, Stu.” Jordan cut a sideways glare at his best friend, as Rory’s sniffling grew louder.
“What I meant—”
“Whatever.” Stuart rolled his eyes at Jordan’s outburst, muttering some additional four-letter words under his breath as he scooped the basketball up from the concrete and disappeared back down the driveway.
“You ok?” Jordan turned his attention back to his little brother, smiling as he nodded between sniffles. “Good.” Stuart’s sarcasm aside, he really was now conscious of the time it was taking. Though he didn’t necessarily want to, he decided to push Rory a little bit harder. “Now, let’s get you down off this roof. Can you move your hands for me, buddy?”
“Ummm…” Rory stared down at his hands, the motion causing a few leftover tears to leak out. “I-I guess.”
“Good.” Jordan gave his brother an encouraging nod, his smile still warm and bright. “We’re gonna do this one step at a time, okay?” He nodded again, hoping to show enough confidence for both of them. “Move your right hand forward, then your right knee.” Jordan watched as Rory began to regain control of his extremities, staring intently each time he placed a hand or knee down as if the iron sheets may part from under him.
“That’s it. You’re doing great.” Rory continued to crawl slowly across the corrugated iron, as Jordan offered more encouraging words.
“N-Now what?” Rory asked, after eventually reaching the edge. He surveyed the 12ft drop beneath him, eyes threatening to overflow again.
“It’s ok, there’s no rush.” Jordan was mindful of his brother’s state of mind, even as time continued to tick away. “When you’re ready, swing your legs out over the edge and hold onto the gutter really tight.”
Jordan watched as Rory dangled one foot out over the edge, before quickly retracting it.
“I-I’m scared, Jordy.” Rory was again rooted to the spot, unable to stop the tears from falling again.
“Don’t worry, I’m right here.” Jordan inched closer to the garage wall, ready to catch his brother in a worst case scenario. “Nothing bad will happen.”
“P-Promise?” Rory still didn’t look certain.
“Pinky swear.” Jordan wiggled his little finger to reinforce the statement, smiling as Rory unconsciously mirrored the gesture. “Now, are you ready?”
“Okay.” Jordan inched closer again to the wall, ready to act as Rory’s safety net. “Now swing your leg over and hold on really tight.”
“Okay…” With one last sniffle, Rory slid his left leg over the edge and began to follow Jordan’s instructions. He used his left foot to gain a foothold in the latticework, then repeated the same process with his right foot.
Jordan watched as Rory took a strong grip of the guttering, oblivious to the fact that Stuart was waving his arms and calling his name from the bottom of the driveway.
Then he heard the slam of a car door, followed by an angry voice.
“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!”
Jordan panicked. Seized up. An instinctive reaction after eighteen years under his father’s roof.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU—”
He didn’t see Rory lose his grip until it was too late.
It's here, it's finally here!
"Rivers of the Dead" looks amazing with its brand new cover and renovation to this new-fangled age of digital media. That's right, it's available as both a paperback and as an ebook, and here's four reasons why you should consider buying it:
1) It's a story about love, about sacrifice and overcoming grief—it'll pull on your heart over and over again as you journey with Caleb as he journeys to The Underworld to reclaim his friend's soul.
2) The mythological perspective is fresh, even if it returns us to the classic Greek myth of Orpheus. He may be ancient, but he's traded his lute for a guitar and a wickedly sarcastic attitude. You'll love him.
3) If you like my stories, you'll like this one, too. If you trust me to tell a good story, you'll definitely like this one.
4) If for no other reason, I'm taking the plunge in October and quitting my day job to become a full-time writer. Your support simply by purchasing this book will do more for me than you can possibly imagine.
Whether you decide to pick up a copy or not, know that I appreciate you getting this far. I love being part of this community, and I appreciate all the support you've given me over the years.
That being said, there's a link here I hope you'll check out:
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Wen my niece was 3, I was in my sewing phase. Some fabric company had just come out with a set of watermelon fabrics, with one looking like the rind, and another being red with white and black watermelon seeds. I also found a pattern for preschool girls dresses that was a watermelon. I made it. It had this huge bib like collar that was half a watermelon, and the pockets were triangle watermelon slices. I even found lady bug buttons and added felt leaves and ladybugs.
It was my first zipper, and I messed it up. My niece's stepdad's mom replaced it for me. So for years my niece insisted Grandma C made it, even though everyone including Grandma C told her that's I made it.
the dress was a swing dress and my niece was a twig, very tiny. She literally wore the dress for about 4 years, two as a dress, then two more as a top?
Dress Lilly now has a watermelon dress, and my niece wants it. Odd to see I influenced her tastes as we aren't close at all.
I wrote this poem the other day after watching about five minutes of 'America's Got Talent'. Hope you can relate.
With curious gazes do we transfix
Our eyes to things bizarre;
O! how we know (or entertain)
Ideas that are so far
From things we maybe ought to think-
Or also entertain
But no heads turn, no gaze transfix
Upon me or my name-
I am the invisible; the sensible; the good;
And ev’rything opposed to it
(though nothing really should)
Is led, descending, into, the deepest depths I know,
With resounding shouts of glee:
“Watch him go! Watch it go!”
A droopy, weary figure draws
A picture in the sheen-
And though they may have followed laws
Not one can really glean
A story or a notion behind the shaky glyph;
But the who went is able to-
And does not save them from the cliff.
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The thing that scares me most is love. I'm scared because I love easily. I find someone I can connect to and within a week I feel love for that person. I've done this twice and both times that love was not returned. In fact the first time the other guy and I were planning to celebrate his birthday together. The day before I was to come over I tried texting him and he didn't reply as a matter of fact the message was never delivered. I then called his number and that's when my heart broke when the message said 'the number you are trying to dial is no longer in service' my heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. I cried, I didn't eat, I barely slept. I felt rejected and alone. Being bipolar this didn't do much for my mentality. So now when I go into a relationship I try not to get attached to people but it doesn't work. I'm not saying I'm easy to love, but I love easy. That's what scares me more than anything
Something came across my Facebook feed recently that I thought I should share here.
At last year's Toronto Pride parade there were issues that many of you are aware of. The end result of those issues had the Toronto Pride Committee banning uniformed police officers from participating in this year's Pride festivities. (I won't even get into the irony of Pride Toronto still expecting the police to be there as security for the event.) I have many acquaintances and friends who are either police officers, or have family members who are and I can tell you, Pride Toronto's decision hurt them deeply. There have been a lot of strides made for LGBTQ officers to be accepted, and this puts a stain on their accomplishments. I know there are issues still to be resolved in the LGBTQ community and law enforcement, but I've never found excluding a group solves anything, and generally only leads to polarized positions.
In response to Pride Toronto's decision a small group decided to spearhead their own celebration, in honour of first responders. The celebration, dubbed the First Responders Unity Festival is being held on June 25, 2017. I hope the festival is well attended, and these first responders enjoy a day meant to honour them and their fight for acceptance. After watching police officers in London racing towards the danger a day ago, I feel like they could use a little extra appreciation right now.
This is the powerful, touching story of a young gay man's struggles to survive, beginning as a child in the suburbs of Ohio,
then moving on to the bright lights and big city of New York. Throughout his journey of life, Nick Buchanan encounters some
difficult obstacles, painful hardships, and discovers the ins and outs of show business while trying to make it in an often exciting,
but sometimes devastating world.
After nearly giving up, Nick discovers a new sense of strength and resilience that comes from facing his fears, standing up to
prejudice, and learning what genuine love and respect for himself truly are.
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So I fell off with my blogging, obviously, but honestly it's for the best. The last few months were important, but would've been unpleasant to read about week by week.
To sum things up:
1) We've moved closer to campus, chopping fifty entire minutes off my commute, which has been game changing.
2) The "we" in question is the sort-of boyfriend I seemed so dead-set on breaking up with in my last entry. I'm not interested in hashing out exactly what all has happened, but it will suffice to say that we radically renegotiated our relationship: we're entirely open; I bear a lot less of the chores/finances/being an adult burden; and I get a lot more alone time. At first he had some issues, but now that I've gotten some distance and seem to be really into him sometimes, and now that he's had some side flings of his own, we are both very, very happy.
3) I was sober for a solid three months, dropped fifteen pounds, and now I'm letting alcohol back into my life, which I'm sure will backfire shortly enough, but for now it's under control.
In short, I can't believe how happy I am. It's weird how I always end up on GA just before making a bunch of life changes. I wonder why that is. I have some ideas, but I can't pin them down entirely.
One of my first acts after redefining my relationship with my non-boyfriend was to go on a complete fucking rampage. I can't believe how many guys I've been getting lately. It feels selfish, immature, and even irresponsible, but I really don't care. I've had nearly four years of suppressing monogamy, and what I've learned is that I really, really, really love guys. It's not just that I like men, it's that I like men in their plurality. I love how much variety there is among men. I would never be satisfied with just one, and as long as my sex drive holds out, I will never agree to monogamy again. I'm having the time of my life.
As a side note, I've also discovered that telling guys I'm on a rampage is a great pick-up line, for whatever reason. As soon as I explain that I'm on a rampage, they want in on it. I think to bottoms it implies a certain kind of sex, so they get all excited. I hope I'm not disappointing them
Tonight was a little sloppy though. Some surfer type guy (this is California) came over, and he was pretty attractive, and we watched most of a movie together before starting to cuddle. I gave him what I thought was really stellar head for a bit, really enjoying myself, and then before finishing, he asks me to cuddle naked with him. I strip to my underwear and we start cuddling. He mentions he's dizzy because he had a few shots earlier. I thought nothing of it until he got up suddenly and vomited powerfully into my sink.
The funny thing about that is that that was the second time those dishes had been vomited upon. One of my friends in the department lives in the same apartments and visits herself upon me sometimes, often after she's had an unclear amount to drink. A few nights ago, she came over, we were talking, and I was fucking around on my phone. I look up at her as she's talking, she casually turns her head to the side, projectile vomits, and then starts to talk to me again as if nothing had happened. I told another friend about it and she called it a "casual side-vom'," which I found funny.
I've gotten a student loan as a living cushion (I don't pay tuition and I get income as an instructor, so it's not so ridiculous), and I'm using part of it to finally get a professional wardrobe. That shopping trip hasn't occurred yet, but I did buy some cute boxer briefs online, and I'm using them as a weight loss incentive. I bought three wonderful pairs. One pair I'm allowed to wear now. Another pair I'm allowed to wear once my weight stays under 162. My favorite pair I'm allowed to wear once I get under 157, around which weight my abs re-emerge. I'm hoping this is a good dieting strategy.
Anyway, things are pretty awesome right now. I hope to keep blogging in the near future, and I hope you're all doing well.
Yes, it has been forever and a day since I added anything to the blog. I feel like one of those co-workers who leaves the office for a new job and promises on their mother's grave they'll stay in touch. Then you only see them when lightning strikes and you're in the same place at the same time and you swear once again you'll stay in touch, but in reality you know the demands of your job will never allow for it. That's a convoluted way of saying, sorry I've been so absent, but I've been crazy busy.
That said, I need to say thank you to GA and Caz Pedroso for nominating Chosen of Honorus for story of the month. Chosen of Honorus was the precursor to The Last Grand Master - the first book in the Champion of the Gods series that DSP Publications is publishing. It was/is the book that jump started my publishing career. I owe a big debt to GA for taking a chance on me and giving me the confidence to push out into the wide literary world.
There is a prequel to Chosen of Honorus - First Love - that is available on the DSP Publications site or you can find a link on my website. If you sign up for my monthly newsletter, there is a link in one of the welcome emails as well. If you want to sign up for my newsletter, you can use this link:
In addition, if you like Chosen of Honorus, there are now three more books in the series available from DSP Publication and the last book in the series will be released in 2018. Books 1-3 are also on sale now through the end of April. Here is a link to the sale page on my website:
Despite what I said above about being the co-worker who left, sometimes a little jolt reminds you of what you're missing. In my case, I realize how much I miss the people I met here. I think if I have time to socialize with fans on Facebook and Twitter, I can use some of that time to come here once a day too. I'm going to do my best to do that. That said, the new set up is going to take me some time to get used to so if I miss your comments, you can always email me - Andrew@andrewqgordon.com. I'm usually very good at responding to emails.
Thank you all again. It's humbling and flattering to realize people haven't forgotten you. It's a very good feeling.
PS In case you forgot what I look like or want to see a new picture of 'lil q (way more likely than wanting to see me) I'll post a few pictures in a few minutes. .
Recent events started me thinking. I have made many good friends online, both here at GA and elsewhere. I would worry if one of them went missing with no warning or explanation.
When SkinnyDragon found about his prognosis, he took the time, something he had precious little of, to fill us in.
I am one of those super organized people. After having to make the arrangements for both my parents, then my father in law, I decided that was something I didn't want my loved ones to have to deal with. When I got a diagnosis of cancer, one of the things I did was a visit to our families choice of funeral directors. We discussed what I wanted and put it all in a file "just in case".
My family is well aware of my membership here, but some would prefer to keep GA a more private part of their life. While speaking with Hugh, (yes we are on a first name basis, we have known each other since highschool) he asked what I thought at the time an odd question, if there were anyone my family might not know about that I would want notified in the event of my death. After discussing it, I gave him the info he needed to get to GA and one of the things he will do when the time comes is post a notice here.
Please friends, consider including info on contacting us in your "when I am gone" stuff. If you are in a position where you would prefer your family not know, reach out to someone you trust. It gives me peace of mind knowing I will not just go poof.
So, I was fumbling through my stuff, looking for the chip for a wireless mouse for my sister's new laptop when I stumbled upon loads of books I had when I was a 16 year old sausage.
One was filled with prototypes of my story Bffs with the occational weird fairytale-esque stories with talking cats and an angry little prince on rooftops escapades.
But one book hit the feels real hard.
I had kept one notebook filled with my inner feelings and angry thoughts;of those one would expect to see in a teen. The angry verses and hateful phrases were based on the struggles that my family and I experienced some time ago (tho most of my struggles were OF my family). Every page was filled with curses and thoughts of death to all mankind with the occasional sarcastic praise to God's cruel game. At first, I thought it was funny, then disturbing and then it really hit me hard.
The book was completely filled; with only a few more empty pages left. The last entry states my complaint on my seemingly lazy and useless siblings needing the most affection and attention.
With the last few pages left I thought I'd fill for the last time, my thoughts. But this time, instead of angry rants, I drew my conclusion. I simply hushed my former self and assured her that for all the years passed, things have finally gotten better. I assured her that she was capable of loving her family and that now, almost 6 years later, she does; and they her. And assured her that now she is working on a better future and is living comfortably with nice pretty things. I told her that she could now lay her anger to rest and she no longer have the need to despise God. All is well, and hopefully, the future will stay bright. I was finally able to sign the page with my true initials. I was at peace.
Around four pm, mini-cat became restless. She wandered around the house and followed me everywhere. Then around ten, she had her first contractions. The first kitten, a large black and white, was born at 11:15. Sadly Alpha was dead by the time it was finally born.
The second (Bravo) came an hour later. It was barely alive and we quickly cut the umbilical cord and rubbed it dry with a towel. For a short time, we thought we would lose it too, but it got stronger when we fed it with dry milk for kitten. Whew!
The third, Charlie, and fourth, Delta, came really quick. We had to cut the umbilical cord and rub it dry because mini-cat was busy with giving birth. After Delta mini-cat and her kitten went to sleep in one of three very cozy cardboard boxes and we slept on the couch beside her. You never know...
Around three am I woke up because Nox barked in the next room. He was thirsty. When we looked at mommy and the babies, we found a fifth baby, Echo, lying before the box, crying pitifully. Obviously, mini-cat secretly had another one and left it outside because the others started crying. So, once again, cutting the umbilical cord, rubbing it dry and back to mommy.
All is well so far, they are drinking and sleeping and mommy only leaves them to eat and drink. So cute.
We hope it stays well and nothing more happens. Fingers crossed.
I woke up this morning and Echo was really bad. On the way to the vet, but it doesn't look good.
You and I, we have a strong bond
Like brothers, like lovers;
We disgust the world with our vain perversions,
our inane attachment with the word and the seas of heresy
part at our command revealing the shells of untruths hiding
beneath the silt of social justice.
Ecstasy beyond judgement is what we share
in the binding fallacy of corporeal pain
battling to win over the spirit.
Our ascension begins at the alter of ego.
Broken down pieces of the mirror of self-hate, we tread
upon our steps to immortality. Morality, ethics, civility, higher power
are all suspended in space as dwindling starlights, reaching us
from the outer edges of cosmos.
You and I, we have a strong bond.
Like brothers, like lovers;
We step over millions of corpses to reach the quintessential truth, the poesy of nature.
When I see you talking to others I think of it as betrayal
When I see you smiling with others I question if you are loyal
When I see you moving on with life going roundabout your business
I feel I have been left out from it all in order to hide your menace
I know the wheels are turning
I know the fires are burning out
Emotions are condensing in big chunks of ice
And soon it won't suffice to tell you that I love you,
that the earth only blooms for you,
that my breath begins & ends with you
And soon you will leave me for the others who make you smile, who kiss
you behind my back, smell your hair, bend you over to the road of infidelity
And it drives me mad, mad like a ragging bull,
Like a substance user craving his previous high
I can't stand them making you smile
One of these days I will tell them of your lies
A song I like - and so it was also the first greek song I tried to sing in my favorite Greek restaurant. There exists a much different version in english, more like a nonsense /fun kids song.
Ακούστε την ιστορία του Κεμάλ
ενός νεαρού πρίγκιπα, της ανατολής
απόγονου του Σεβάχ του θαλασσινού,
που νόμισε ότι μπορεί να αλλάξει τον κόσμο.
αλλά πικρές οι βουλές του Αλλάχ
και σκοτεινές οι ψυχές των ανθρώπων.
Στης Ανατολής τα μέρη μια φορά και ένα καιρό
ήταν άδειο το κεμέρι, μουχλιασμένο το νερό
στη Μοσσούλη, τη Βασσόρα, στην παλιά τη χουρμαδιά
πικραμένα κλαίνε τώρα της ερήμου τα παιδιά.
Κι ένας νέος από σόι και γενιά βασιλική
αγροικάει το μοιρολόι και τραβάει κατά εκεί.
τον κοιτάν οι Βεδουίνοι με ματιά λυπητερή
κι όρκο στον Αλλάχ τους δίνει, πως θ’ αλλάξουν οι καιροί.
Σαν ακούσαν οι αρχόντοι του παιδιού την αφοβιά
ξεκινάν με λύκου δόντι και με λιονταριού προβιά
απ’ τον Τίγρη στον Ευφράτη, απ’ τη γη στον ουρανό
κυνηγάν τον αποστάτη να τον πιάσουν ζωντανό.
Πέφτουν πάνω του τα στίφη, σαν ακράτητα σκυλιά
και τον πάνε στο χαλίφη να του βάλει την θηλιά
μαύρο μέλι μαύρο γάλα ήπιε εκείνο το πρωί
πριν αφήσει στην κρεμάλα τη στερνή του την πνοή.
Με δύο γέρικες καμήλες μ’ ένα κόκκινο φαρί
στου παράδεισου τις πύλες ο προφήτης καρτερεί.
πάνε τώρα χέρι χέρι κι είναι γύρω συννεφιά
μα της Δαμασκού τ’ αστέρι τους κρατούσε συντροφιά.
Σ’ ένα μήνα σ’ ένα χρόνο βλέπουν μπρος τους τον Αλλάχ
που από τον ψηλό του θρόνο λέει στον άμυαλο Σεβάχ:
«νικημένο μου ξεφτέρι δεν αλλάζουν οι καιροί,
με φωτιά και με μαχαίρι πάντα ο κόσμος προχωρεί»
Hark to the story of Kemal
a young prince of the East
descendant of Sinbad the Sailor
who thought he could change the world.
But bitter is the will of Allah
and dark the souls of men.
In the lands of the East once upon a time
the purse was empty and the water stale.
In Mosul* and Bushehr* on the old coconut tree
the children of the desert now cry bitter tears.
And a young man of an old and royal line
hears the lament and grows near.
the Bedouins** look at him sadly
and he gives them an oath in Allah's name, that times will change.
When the lords heard of the lad's fearlessness
they set out with wolf's teeth and lion's skin
from Tigris*** to Euphrates***, from the earth to the heavens
they hunt for the deserter, to capture him alive.
The horde descends upon him like rabid dogs
and takes him to the Caliph to place the noose [on his neck]
black honey and black milk he drank that morning
before he breathed his last on the gallows.
The Prophet**** awaits before the Gates of Heaven
with two elderly camels and a red horse.
They now go hand in hand and it's cloudy
but the star of Damascus kept them company.
In a month and a year they see Allah before them
and from his high throne he says to the simple Sinbad:
"my beaten smart-aleck, times do not change,
the world always moves on by fire and blades"
Goodnight Kemal, this world will never change.
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Today Timothy M. reviews GA Author Diogenes' story, "About Carl" for our Gay Story Reviews blog site. He says, "The story takes you on the sad, but also beautiful and believable journey through Mark’s life..." Read more of his thoughts on the story in the review on GSR!
Watched this really amazing documentary on Netflix last night. I’m sometimes struck by how men who have spent so much time embedded in a war zone can afterward convey this sense of utter calm and inner peace even in the face of huge life obstacles. Nayyef conveys that sensibility in interview clips in this documentary, no matter whether his post-war life is despairing or joyful.
This documentary brings us an example of steadfast love between these two men through years of hardships. Although I was certainly aware of the taboo and dangers of homosexuality in Iraq, I didn’t realize until watching this film that the executions of gay men are largely carried out by civilians. As Btoo and Nayyef explain, there is no need for the government to act when civilians are all too ready to rid the country of the “problem.” All the government need do is nothing - do nothing to the executioners so as to allow the murders to continue.
The journey of these two men is quite extraordinary to watch and it is certainly touching to witness their reunion at the film’s end. It also put another real story to the impact and importance of the legalization of gay marriage. Although never pointed out in the film, because their commitment ceremony occurred in a natural timeline for them, the fact remains that it was only two months after marriage had been legalized in the U.S. What could be more like living a fairy tale than that to two boys who grew up gay in Iraq?
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