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I knew youd be back. Even as you walked away from my door the last time you were here, even when you called me to tell me youd never return. Even as you told me you never wanted to see me again, I knew youd be back. And here you are. Strapped naked to my flogging bench. The leather cool against your cheek, your heart bounding in your chest like a puppy thats just seen its mistress. Like you when you see your Mistress. Your secret Mistress.
You did try, didnt you? You tried to stay away. Tried to find other things to distract you, to erase me from your mind. But none of them worked. Not the alcohol. Not the drugs. Not even that pretty little girlfriend of yours. You try so very hard but your soul never quite reaches that plain of calm shadows, does it? Yet I can take it there quite effortlessly. One touch of my hand and youre almost there. That place where nothing else can reach you. Far away from the person that everyone wants you to be. Here, on the calm plain, you can be yourself - completely without ego.
You lie there waiting for me, enjoying the soothing darkness of the blindfold, enjoying not having to think. Every nerve in your body is alive with anticipation. You did wonder for a moment what I might have planned for you but you dont need to wonder, do you? You just need to lie there and let it happen. Lie there and let the pleasure and the pain fight for supremacy. It doesnt matter which one succeeds, the end result with be the same - bliss
You feel rather than hear me enter the room. It always amazes you how quietly I can enter a room in such high heels. Your breathing becomes faster just thinking about those shoes. Shoes, or boots? No matter. They are the source of desire, objects of fetish. You dont know whats to come next but you want it. You want it. I run a gloved hand down the length of your spine, pausing at the base. I take an arse cheek in each hand and spread them, gently at first, until youre completely exposed. You hear me spit and feel the warm saliva run down that exposed valley. Your arsehole tightens and puckers involuntarily. I spit again and the splittle dribbles from your tight little hole, over your balls. You feel the head of my dildo push against the tight sphincter, feel it give and stretch. I roughly grab the hair at the back of your head - painfully arching it back. You gasp and hold your breath as you feel my teeth press hard against the skin of your neck and I bite - not quite breaking the skin. You manage to keep from whimpering but youre panting now. Panting and shivering with desire as the bliss builds. As it begins to overwhelm you, as you convulse and moan, you pant out the words, Mistress, my Secret Mistress, Im yours, Im back.
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Born in Memphis, raised in Toronto, the 50,000+ who downloaded Aubrey “Drake” Graham’s new 2009 mixtape can’t be wrong
What are you bringing to the table for 2009? I want to make music for people to listen to. But I also want them to believe in someone who is somewhat of an underdog, establishing a lane for myself, and getting to the point where other artists can be compared to me: “Oh, that sounds like a Drake type right there.” I want to get to the point where I’m a name that people use to describe something new.
How did you meet Lil’ Wayne? The connection was a gentleman named Jaz Prince, the son of the founder of Rap-A-Lot Records, J Prince. He just called Wayne on a day when Wayne felt like hearing some music. I was actually getting a haircut at the time, which worked for me, because Wayne called my cellphone and wondered if I could meet him in Houston the next day.
No other Canadian rapper has rocked a room of 20,000 like you did at the Air Canada Centre with Wayne. I was just proud of my city. And, to be completely honest with you, I was nervous. Not about forgetting my lyrics, or tripping, or anything like that. But up until that moment I could never be sure if I had any fans in my own city – 20,000 people is a lot of people to win over, and even if one-quarter don’t like me that’s still intimidating. But it ended up being a great night. Wayne definitely noticed the city was behind me, because I got the same reaction from the Toronto crowd that he would get from the audience in New Orleans.
Which place do you want to call home for the next few years? My heart is in Toronto, and this city definitely inspires me, but I enjoy L.A. and Atlanta. Once the music is out there, and I have a retail album that we can all profit from, I’ll probably get back into acting which means moving to Los Angeles.
Where did you get the idea to call your third mixtape So Far Gone? The title has many meanings. Toronto is struggling for an icon, but I feel the furthest out there of all my peers, where the only people I feel understand me are the ones close to me. I feel like we live with a very genuine, pure, elevated level. But there’s also a distance from others who aren’t in my circle. I feel like they don’t understand what’s going on.
How does it compare to the previous mixtapes? Well, people started hearing my music as soon as I started making it, so I really was growing. Southern Smoke was a very early project that reflected my interests at the time – I was into the Roots, Little Brother, Mos Def and other great hip-hop music. Then I started to understand the value of a hit record, and became more interested in melodies than a track of overwhelming lyrics. Comeback Season started leaning toward songs that were fun. Now I’m confident enough to convey a personal message, reflecting what’s going on in my mind, like a timeline of my personal life.
Which of the forthcoming collaborations stand out most for you? There’s an interlude with Lloyd that solidifies the fact that I’ll be singing more in the future, embracing the fact that people loved tracks like “Brand New” and “Sooner than Later.” Working with Lil’ Wayne is also a very humbling experience – he’s like my mentor. I know it’s the right combination because, no matter how many times we do something over, it always seems to come out the right way.
Who else have you worked with lately? My usual people: Boi-1da has a lot on there, and my engineer 40 really made the sound, painting the picture and creating a story for it. When I was unsure what kind of tape I wanted to make, it was 40 who kept cranking out those instrumentals that basically laid it out for me.
Are you planning to collaborate again with Trey Songz? Yeah, he’s actually on my mixtape, and one of the funniest people I know. We always have a great rapport, so we talk often, and just laugh and joke about life. At this point, he’s more a friend than a business colleague.
Do you think XXL slept on you by not putting you in their “Freshmen 10”? Nah, the guys they selected were great and had a phenomenal year. I don’t consider myself part of any group, because I have a completely different story, and a different approach to this whole thing. Being separate from the pack is actually a positive thing for me.
Are you signed to Cash Money, or Interscope? I’m actually not signed to either. I’m still an unsigned artist, and think I have a couple more bullets in my clip to let out before I really open my eyes and see what the aftermath of all my shots were.
And, speaking of Aftermath, how did your mixtape land on Dre’s desk? On whose desk?
Dre. Who’s that?
Dr. Dre. I didn’t know my mixtape landed on Dre’s desk.
Did you ever hear the mixtape by DJ Ill Will and Rampage called Best of Heartbreak Drake? I had no part in it, even though a lot of people have told me they liked hearing it – it’s my songs, after all, so … enjoy it.
How have the changes in your personal life been reflected in the lyrics? I’ve always been very honest about my emotions, but things haven’t drastically changed, since I have a new emotion to express in every song. “Every Girl” is just having fun and talking shit with a bunch of dudes; “Replacement Girl” is me giving a piece of myself to women that pay attention. I’m speaking to both genders: the guys who want to have fun and feel fly, and the women who want to know what we think.
The track “Get Over It” mentions that you’re Jewish. How did your bar mitzvah go down? Mine wasn’t as extravagant as the other kids. It was just at a restaurant, where I slow danced to “I Want It That Way” with Heidi Gold. That’s a little fact that you may not know about. But now you know.
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So anyway, shes the first person I see when I walk in, already feeling like total crap. So what happens next? She shakes Ts hand and then shakes mine and INTRODUCES herself like weve never met. When she said, m Melissa I just looked at her and said, Then T says he has to use the restroom and LEAVES ME STANDING ALONE WITH HER at the bar. Okay, so Im on the verge of a panic attack and he leaves me alone with the one person I cannot stand in a small bar filled with people I dont know. Fine, he has to use the bathroom, but I wish he had waited until we settled in at a table or something. Standing alone in public is awkward enough, but standing alone, feeling like a loser, next to HER was just unbearable. Then, T comes out of the bathroom and, instead of beelining back to me, he stops to chat with other people. Again, not a big deal if I wasnt ready to lose my ever-loving mind while standing next to her - and he knows how I feel about her. I grab my purse, walk back to him and hissed quietly at him, What the fuck? Why did you leave me with HER???
He got mad that I was upset, and snapped at me in front of his friends. Yeah, that helped the looming panic attack. I sit at a table and then this other girl, who had been standing with The Whore at the bar, comes over to show him pictures on her cell phone and laugh and talkand T never makes a move to introduce me, much less include me in the convo. I was just stunned - the night really couldnt be going worse for me at that point. So I stuck my hand out and introduced myself as Ts wife. T thought we had met before (we had, for 2 seconds about 3 years agolike Id remember???) and apologized, but at this point, Im feeling about 2 inches tall and Im completely about to cry. Then T walks away from me to talk to more people and leaves me alone, again. The worst part was he was talking to people in a group that The Whore was a part of, so I just felt even more deserted.
Dont get me wrong, I know T wasnt TRYING to make me feel like shit. I do that on my own. But I tried to explain to him what I was going through and it made no difference. Its not that I wanted him to feel like he had to babysit me all night, but I just wanted to feel included in his world. I didnt. I felt like an intruder. It didnt make me feel any better when he pointed out that I didnt have to go in the first place. Yeah, that makes me feel really wanted. Im just at a point right now where I feel very unsure of everything around me. I survived a dramatic company bust-up and was thrust into an insane new work environment that is anything but comfortable (or stable), I lost two loved ones, I gained a ton of weight and lost every ounce of self-confidence that I had built up. Nothing feels secure anymore. I trust T, but I absolutely would not blame him if he left me. In my mind, thats what I deserve. It didnt help that his ex is incredibly thin. Not pretty (she looks like a retarded horse on Prozac), but thin.
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The three tested students included one 10-year-old girl in the fourth grade who fell severely ill Monday and left the rural school north of Gilroy, said Gilroy Unified School District Superintendent Debbie Flores. A couple others followed immediately, and those three exhibited severe flu symptoms - including vomiting and diarrhea - but they tested negative for swine flu and are now recovering. After reviewing the results and consulting with the district, county doctors decided this morning to investigate the students' illnesses, but they agreed to reopen the school because there was no evidence of swine flu. Shutting down a school requires the presence of at least one probable case.
Federal health officials believe the flu, which regularly affects pigs but rarely humans, originated in Mexico, and they are concerned because it is a new virus for which people have little or no immunity and no vaccine. The flu has been confirmed in 13 countries in at least 367 cases of swine flu, including more than 140 people in the United States, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the World Health Organization.
Friday was also opening day at the Arturo Ochoa Migrant Farmworker Center off Arizona Circle in southeast Gilroy, and by mid-afternoon, county health officials there had screened about 95 of 100 incoming families coming from Arizona, Texas, California and, in lesser numbers, Mexico, according to Chris Finn, Sthe county's assistant nurse manager, and Alex Sanchez, executive director of the Housing Authority of Santa Clara County - which oversees the state-run quarters.
Bottles of hand sanitizer sat on tables and masks and gloves were also available for arriving families, but as of 3 p.m. Friday, nobody had been referred for follow-up testing, Finn said. The mobile, RV-like county health clinic she and three others worked out of arrived this morning, but it spent the afternoon idling outside a crowded waiting room where the screening took place.
"It's just the flu," incoming resident Art Urrutia said as his grandson ran around the nearly full parking lot while families unpacked their cars. "I'm not worried. I've heard some things here and there, down by Mexicali, but nothing here."
Urrutia and his wife, daughter and two grandchildren said they felt fine after their trip from Arizona, where they said he spends about seven months of the year before driving here to find him work as a mechanic. Of the 260 or so people expected to arrive, about 100 will be children who will enter district schools until summer vacation. The camp shuts down Nov. 20, and Gardner Family Health Network also has a mobile clinic that regularly visits the seasonal quarters.
Kaiser Permanente has been following direction from the CDC by screening people who believe they have swine flu over the phone before telling them to come in to clinics, nearly all of which have set up ad hoc rooms and tents for patients suspected to have swine flu.
"Otherwise, if you're not feeling well, just stay home," Kaiser Spokesperson Karl Sonkin said.
Not one probable case has surfaced in Gilroy or its schools, and Superintendent Flores let out a cautious "phew" when she about the negative results this morning.
"It's a major relief the first few were negative because one of the children had all the symptoms, and the other two were very ill," Flores said Friday, adding that fall and winter flu outbreaks commonly remove 10 children from the school of about 640 students. "This looks like a different influenza, and we were being very cautious Thursday when we decided to close the school."
The district has forwarded the names of the seven additional students showing flu symptoms to the county, Flores said. Some of the students have been hospitalized and have been lying in bed at home. The kids' guardians have taken all seven to see doctors, but it is up to them and county officials to work out medical solutions, Flores said.
"We're asking the children to see doctors, and so far they have complied, but at that point it's a medical call," Flores said. "Hopefully now, with three days off, we'll have fewer children sick on Monday, and we'll be reducing the risk at school" on Monday with common sense hygiene practices.
The county analyzes swabs and cultures of "possible cases" taken at local health clinics. If the results come back positive for type A flu virus, the case is labeled "probable" and forwarded the samples to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, Ga., for confirmation.
In addition to the classroom disruption, the school district decided Thursday - after waiting 36 hours too long for the test results because of an unrelated swab error - to cancel this year's Run for Fitness, an annual exercise event of about 2,000 students to raise fitness awareness. The event at Luigi Aprea Elementary School will be rescheduled soon. No other events have been postponed, Flores said.
The county health department's precautionary closure of Rucker was the first such school closure in Gilroy and the sixth in the county. The decision came as officials were waiting for test results from Saint Louise Regional Hospital. The initial swab analysis taken there from the 10-year-old girl in the fourth grade was inconclusive and had to be retaken, and county officials thus labeled the suspected sample a "high priority" Thursday, said Molly Carbajal, a health department spokesperson. Saint Louise representatives refused to comment.
The sick Rucker students were mostly fourth graders but included at least one first grader, according to Rucker Principal Barbara Keesaw, who said "a couple" of students' families visited Mexico during spring break two weeks ago. The closure did not affect state standardized testing, which will resume when the school reopens Monday, Flores said.
When Rucker closed at its normal time Thursday - an hour or so after the county decided to close the school - Melissa Valdez, who takes care of a first grader after school, said she thought the health department should shut down the whole school district, which serves about 10,000 students. She also questioned the prudence of closing just one school, whose students are bused in from different areas in and around Gilroy - unlike other neighborhood schools.
"These are not just the country kids. These are kids from all around Gilroy," Valdez said as she held a bright pink letter that Flores wrote to guardians about the closing.
Lisa Muzzio appreciated the prompt notifications and advice from the school district - which reportedly bought up all the hand sanitizer at Costco Thursday afternoon - but she said she would stay calm, continue to practice common sense hygiene and encourage her sons in fifth and second grade to do the same.
"I'm not going to panic. There's no sense to that," Muzzio said.
Councilman Perry Woodward was down in Mexico with his wife and two young children in Cabo San Lucas this week, which sits at the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula. The professional pilot with a private plane housed in San Martin took a commercial flight to Mexico Monday before the CDC issued travel precautions, and he said Wednesday people "were still partying," but in thinner crowds than usual.
Down in Mexico City, Gilroy High School teacher Gretchen Yoder-Schrock is on a Fulbright exchange, but her life and those of her two kids "have been radically altered" after schools across the country closed April 24. She washes her hands about 30 times a day, but there's not a lot to do - concerts and other public events in Mexico City are canceled, restaurants only sell food to go, and movie theaters, gyms, and pools are closed.
"Its been nearly a week that we've been cooped up but we are staying entertained," Yoder-Schrock wrote in an e-mail. "Thank goodness for the Internet!"
Staff writer Sara Suddes contributed to this story.
WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING
-"Give us time to get the results. We don't want people panicking." - GUSD Superintendent Debbie Flores
-"In hindsight, I should've taken my plane." - Councilman Perry Woodward, a pilot speaking from Mexico about his impending commercial plane trip home
-"Right now we're treating this as a suspected case." - County health department spokesperson Molly Carbajal talking about one of seven Rucker students who have flu-like symptoms
-"I'm not going to panic. There's no sense to that." - Lisa Muzzio, mother of two Rucker students
Masks: What to look for
-According to a Consumer Reports blog (blogs.consumerreports.org/health), wearing a mask "makes sense" for people who are likely to be exposed to the virus, such as someone caring for a sick person.
-Consumer Reports advises looking for a mask labeled N-95 or higher, which means it has been cleared by the FDA. If you choose to wear a mask, it should fit tightly over your nose and mouth with no gaps. For the most effectiveness, masks need to be worn as long as you're in a high risk situation and replaced after each use.
-Masks are no replacement for other preventative measures, such as frequent and vigorous hand washing.
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One of my favorite authors is Michael Chabon who won the Pulitzer Prize for comic book industry influenced “The Adventures Of Cavalier Clay” and the wonderful “Wonder Boys” (which is also a great movie). Not so great is the 2nd Chabon novel-to-movie translation “The Mysteries of Pittsburg”. “The Mysteries of Pittsburgh” is a coming-of-age tale set in early 1980s Pittsburgh. Here we have a young man, Art, who is the son of a mobster (played by Nick Nolte) who falls into a love triangle with a young, uninhibited woman named Phlox and her highly literate biker boyfriend Cleveland. While Nolte plays a strong gangster, he doesn’t appear anywhere near enough to elevate the story as the young cast seems unable to really fully capture the range of emotions needed to portray these highly complex characters. That is not to say the movie isn’t worth watching, but it doesn’t come close to the emotion of the highly superior “Wonder
Boys”. My grade is a C. It has been announced that Chabon is currently working on a screenplay for the new John Carter of Mars movie.
Speaking of people on the edge of the comic book community, it looks like the new Amanda Palmer book is out. When I had Amanda on my radio show (wxou.org from 8-10AM Sat mornings) we talked about a coffee table book of pictures of her getting killed a la ‘Twin Peaks’ Laura Palmer which accompanying poems by Neil Gaiman (best known for his Sandman series). The book is full color, red-cloth-bound, hardback with dust jacket, coffee-table sized and very beautiful. There are only printed 10,000 copies of the first edition and 1,500 of those are already spoken for so if this sounds like something of interest, the preorder will launch at noon EST on Monday April 20th. You can order from JSR's webstore HERE.
Metal fans can get excited by the return (well they actually never stopped touring) of Anvil (“Metal On Metal”) who will be playing at the Crofoot on April 21st. Before the performance of this speed metal legend, that inspired such bands as Metallica and Motorhead, you can see the documentary “Anvil! The Story the Anvil” which looks at their recent history as they try to capture the glory that seemed to pass them by 30 years ago. We see the band, mainly Steve "Lips" Kudlow and Robb Reiner, during a failed European tour (sometimes playing in clubs with about 10 fans) and trying to shop around their 13th album. Screenwriter Sacha Gervasi (best known for the screenplay for the tom Hanks movie “The Terminal” and as a founding member of Bush) was a roadie for the band in ’82, ’84 and ’85 and wanted to put down the history of his favorite band for the world to see. Sacha really captures “Lips” optimism as he constantly keeps the
band together and focused on achieving the success they feel they deserved. The movie will also be paying at the Main Art Theatre and is more than just a movie for people of heavy metal, but a movie of inspiration of someone trying to make his dreams come true and not allowing people to tell him no. I would say going to the Crofoot on Tuesday will be the best way to experience this film as the band plays afterwards.
I also managed to get to Ann Arbor this weekend to see the newly renovated U of M Art Museum renovations of their 53,000-square-foot expansion which almost doubles the size of the museum. Designed by principal architect Brad Cloepfil and his team at Allied Works Architecture, the $41.9 million transformation really adds to the beauty of the museum and allows for some nice viewing opportunities. There is an exhibit entitled “Museums in the 21st Century: Concepts, Projects, Buildings through May 3, 2009 Organized and circulated by Art Centre Basel” which highlights the trends in international museum architecture across four continents including the UMMA expansion and 26 of the world's leading museum building projects planned, in progress, or finished between the years 2000 and 2010. Besides this exhibit, the new building has many well lit galleries dedicated to the art works of Africa, Korea, Japan, China, India and pop art (including 2 Picasso’s
and a painting by the poet e.e. cummings). The renovation really improves the status of the gallery and puts it in the same class as the DIA and Toledo Museum of Art so make sure you get out this spring to check it out. You won’t be sorry!
David Sedaris is a Grammy Award-nominated American humorist, writer, comedian and bestselling author and radio contributor who was first publicly recognized in 1992 when National Public Radio broadcast his essay "SantaLand Diaries". Recently, “SantaLand Diaries” was performed by the Ringwald Theatre, so if you want to meet the mind behind that and other popular works, he will be at the Detroit Opera House on April 21st.
On the upcoming concert calendar, there is the Bamboozle Road Show featuring We Are Kings and Forever The Sickest Kids @ Clutch Cargos on Apr 23rd. When I was in high school, I bowled every Sat morning and our theme song was “Freeze Frame” by the J Geils Band (also the theme for the Rochester Amerks) and they will be bringing their music to the Fillmore for 2 nights (April 24th and 25th). The 25th will also showcase the folkish band Girlyman @ the Ark or hard rockers Silverstein @ the Majestic. British indie band Noah The Whale has their rescheduled Detroit date and they will be at the Magic Bag on Apr 26th.
Lastly, the group Stomp will be performing at the Fisher Theatre from 4/21-4/26 and they put on a must-see show that is full of energy and excitement. The way they incorporate dance moves with the music of common everyday objects is very engaging. I had a member on my show last week and he said there is a number with swinging paint cans that is something to see. He also mentioned in their rehearsals, it wasn’t uncommon for a member to get a glancing blow which hopefully won’t happen onstage but adds to the thrill.
Also, tune into Wild At Heart on WXOU 88.3FM or online at www.wxou.org this Sat between 8-10AM for your chance to win tickets for Sonic Youth a week before they officially go on sale for the Royal Oak Music Theatre.
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Prologue
OrNek Gabada, Prime Minister of all the Centauri Empire, stared in fuming discontent at the holomap suspended before him. The map was a mottled yellow-black concoction, marking Centauri territory in black, and non-Centauri territories in yellow. And there was too much yellow.
Ors eyes traced the main hyperspace routes, until they came to one of the major intersections- a small planetoid. Earth. It was a blot on the map of the galaxy. The people who lived there, these humans, they believed they were supreme beings.
His anger grew, and he started pacing, his four hooves making regular, staccato noises on the deck. The chime on his door rang, and he jerked around, his eyes widening at the impertinence. he bellowed.
The door irised open- the multiple thin doors spinning outwards to retract into the frame- and a young colt came trotting in, his eyes wide. He held out a data cube, his hands visibly shaking. OrNek snatched the cube from the young one, and waved a hand. The colt turned and hastily trotted out, the door spinning inward to close.
OrNek plugged the data cube into the reader. The data screen came up, and the face of his most trusted Admiral popped up. Blessed Minister. I am reporting that the schedule is advancing as expected. All ships and units will be ready within the week. Glorious victory will be ours.
The other snapped his fists to opposite shoulders, and the data cube shut down. An enigmatic smile flickered over Ors face. Yes, this was excellent. Glorious victory would indeed be theirs, and Earth would become black.
Chapter 1
Message sent. the computers annoyingly mechanical voice echoed through the uncomfortably large bedroom. Jackson Hill started up from his seat in front of the desk, raked his hands through his dark brown hair, and looked back to the confirmation message blinking on his screen.
He hit the button to shut the screen down, and it instantly went black. So far, so good. His mind ran over the checklist he had compiled. Making a decision as to what to do next, he grabbed his blazer on the way out the door, his mind already going over what he was going to say to his dad.
Jackson Hill was a tall, good looking young man of about 23 years of age. He had an energy and a vitality that many found appealing, but a certain sense of detachment that some found annoying. But all agreed that the young man was truly privileged, his dad being a StarNavy Admiral and all. Jacks opinion on that matter was extremely neutral.
He climbed onto the banister at the top of the stairs, sliding down it to the bottom. He pulled on his blazer, and made his way out to his hovercar, his mind still running over the soon-to-come interview between he and his father.
Climbing into the car, he started it up and flew the few miles to the StarNavy Headquarters- his fathers workplace. It was a soaring hundred story building with an incredibly imposing front. Jack once more took a deep breath, got out of his car, and walked inside, trying hard to be cool and calm.
When he reached the receptionists desk, he stopped, and smiled at the young woman in attendance. Hi. Is Admiral Hill in?
The woman looked up at him, then down at a small display on the curved panel in front of her. Yes, he is. Would you like me to page him?
Jack shook his head. No, Ill just drop by. Thanks. the young woman nodded, and Jack turned away from the desk, and headed towards one of the metal doors that led to the turbo lifts. Stepping into the lift, Jack keyed in his destination- floor 45, area 6- and waited as the lift slowly hummed upwards.
It stopped smoothly, and Jack stepped out. was proclaimed in black letters on the wall just ahead of him, and he turned down the hallway to his right. At door six of 45-6, Jack stopped, and knocked on it, returning his hands into a lax position. He was awfully nervous about this. Too nervous.
Come in! the familiar voice of his father came, and Jack pushed the door open. Sitting behind his broad desk, Admiral Jordan Luis Hill sat, dressed in the splendor of his SN uniform- the dark blue coat, matching pants, and the thick band of off-white slashing diagonally across his chest that denoted his rank.
Jordan looked up as his son entered, and a pleased smile came over his face. Jack! Good to see you son- I was hoping youd drop by.
Jack only smiled. His father continued. What do you think of SN service?
Jack laughed and shrugged. t gotten to see much of it yet sir.Of course, of course. But dont worry Jack. Im working on getting you a posting on one of our newer ships- the Orion. the Admiral said.
Actually dad Jack paused, uncertain, then rushed ahead. d like to get my own posting if you dont mind. I mean, its great that you want to help me and all, butd rather do this on my own. If thats OK
Jordan sat there, staring into space a moment, then nodded. re right, youre right, of course son. Your mother told me I should let you do that, but Ithe foibles of an old man my boy.
Jack smiled in relief. Thanks dad. I really appreciate it.
Jordan nodded. re welcome. I just want to help you, you know.And you have. Jack hastily assured him. I mean, the training and allthe support. I uhreally appreciated it. So umabout the posting. Ive already picked out where I want to go.s eyebrows went up. Busy busy, arent we? Lets see it.
Jack pulled a data card out of his pocket and plugged it into the computer. A moment later, the information popped up on the screen. Jordans eyebrows went up. Valiant? That ship is twenty years old if shes a day, andI dont care. Jack interjected. s the one with the best, and I want to be with the best.The best scientists, you mean. Son Jordan began, his forehead furrowing with concern.
Dad, Im a scientist, remember? The Valiant is the best scientific vessel the shipyards have ever produced. Jack looked at the specs of the tiny, seven-deck cruiser. s a beautiful ship.
The Valiant was a tiny vessel, by anyones standards. Only seven hundred feet long, with seven decks, one of those decks was wholly devoted to engine space, another three to science labs, and the others to everyday life- dorms, the control center, a small lounge and messhall. But she was the best scientific vessel in the fleet, by far. While her engines and cosmetics were rarely upgraded, her science labs were always beyond up-to-date.
Jack stared at it a moment, then his father spoke again. Beautiful? Son, that hunk of metal could hardly be considered . ButI suppose I could Jack interrupted. ve already messaged the Captain, a man named Rorck. Hell decide whether I get to join his crew or not.
Jordan sighed and nodded. Alright son. Good luck. a beep from the computer drew his attention away from Jack. m expecting Captain Valaris. Ill have to let you go son. See you tonight.Thanks dad. Jack said, truly glad that the interview had gone so well. He had been afraid Jordan would overreact and act as if Jack had done something wrong. He stood, nodded goodbye, and silently left.
Walking back to his hovercar, he felt enthusiasm for the path he was embarking on welling up in him. He climbed back in and headed back home.
Lieutenant Jackson Hill, please report to 501 Rockford Ave. at seven pm to meet with Captain Rorck. He will receive you in suite 62, floor five.
Jack read over the message for the seventh time, his eyes devouring the two concise lines on his computer screen. Captain Rorck was actually going to meet with him! Yes, he had hoped for something like this, dreamed of it. But it seemed so strange for it actually to be happening.
He finished buttoning his uniform, and smoothed it out so the red rank band lay flat and unwrinkled across his chest. He then grabbed up his personal data pad that had all relevant information the Captain might want to see, and tucked it under his arm.
He then hurried downstairs, hovercar card-key clutched in his hand. He climbed into his hovercar, and headed off. He reached 501 Rockford with plenty of time to spare. The address turned out to be an eight-story hotel building, made in the old-fashioned style of brick and set windows.
Jack got out, and went into the lobby. It was comfortable, if a bit small for modern tastes, and was filled with comfortable furniture, as well as a holoscreen set up in the wall that was showing a current program. Jack hurried to the lift, and directed it to floor five.
The doors opened up moments later, and Jack found suite 62 with little trouble. Several minutes later, he stood in front of an unpresuming plain wood door with on it in brass numbers. Jack raised his hand to knock- and the door swung open with such abruptness he startled.
Just inside the door, a tall African gentleman stood, staring at Jack with keen intentness. The man wore not a uniform, but a loose pair of black slacks and a sea-blue shirt. Jack managed a smile, and stammered- m uh, Jackson Hill. You wanted to see me?Oh yes! Im Silas Rorck. the man answered, and stepped aside, a welcoming smile creasing his face. Come in, come in. You look like a loon, standing there. Jack had no answer to that, and wordlessly followed the order. Rorck shut the door behind him, and stood there a moment longer, staring at Jack, then he nodded. I like the look of you. Youve a strong chin and bold eyes. Both attributes of the Hill family. I know your father- hes a wonderful gentleman, and an even better officer. Now then- what are you doing still standing there, man? Sit!
Jack once again followed orders without a murmur, and was even more surprised when Rorck stared at him in surprise. You follow my orders without a why! Why, thats incredible! And not at all what I expected!
Jack finally managed to stammer- Your message said you wanted to see meOh that wasnt my message! Rorck said. Not my personal message. Those receptionists at SNHQ cant make a fellow feel welcome. Consider this a chat among friends young man- Im not your prospective Captain, and youre not my prospective subordinate. Understood?
Jack managed a nod. Who- or what- was this person? Was he really the Captain? Why, Jack had been expecting a proud, bold man who would act the part. But no, here was thiswhat was he?
Jack puzzled on it until he felt a warm cup press into his hand, and saw the smiling face of Silas Rorck settle into a chair across from him. Yes, the Valiant and I returned home for a little upgrade on her science journals and some of her equipment. We need to do that every so often, you know. he began another stare at Jack. You havent spoken a word young man. You arent impressing me very much. he said frankly.
Jack swallowed, and spoke. Well, Im sorry sir. You knowCall me Silas. Rorck interjected. sounds so formal. Jack continued, once again wondering how in the world this man ever got to be a Captain. Well si-Silas- I read about the Valiant, and she sounds like a wonderful ship.She is! Rorck assured him enthusiastically. And so is her crew, every man of them. Some of them have more than a bit of mischief in them, but we love them just the same!
Jack was getting more and more confused- from the way Rorck was talking, it almost seemed that the crew of Valiant, consisting of some 50-odd souls, were a sort of family. he heard himself saying. s great. he cringed at the false enthusiasm in his voice, but it couldnt be helped now.
Yes, yes. So tell me about yourself. Rorck said enthusiastically, leaning forward expectantly.
I just recently graduated college. I also just attained my scientific commission in StarNavy last week. Jack said, and thought a moment longer. I guess thats about it.
Rorck rolled his eyes, seemingly exasperated with Jack. No, no. I know all about your academic record- thats as easy to come by as rocks. Tell me about yourself. he repeated.
Jack felt himself at a momentary loss for words. Apparently, this man wanted to know about Jack, the person- not Jackson, the Lieutenant. And Jack hadnt prepared for that eventuality. His mind struggled over what he could say, and finally latched onto what seemed an acceptable response.
Well, Im 21 years old, I enjoy tinkering with mechanics, I like biology and geology the best, but Im best at geology. Rorck exclaimed. Fascinating. I myself am more of a biologist, but my second-in-command, Rener, Commander Yirmi, is more of the geologist. Youll probably like her. If I accept your application.m sure I will Captain. Jack answered, hoping that was the response this strange man was looking for.
Rorck nodded. You will, you will. Youll enjoy meeting everyone else. Hmm, wholl we put you with? I know. Quentin. Hell be just the thing for you. Jack queried.
Our engineer. Sort of. Hes very Jack said lamely, unable to think of anything else to say.
Rorck nodded, and slapped his knees. Anyway. Can you meet me at the landing pad tomorrow morning? he asked.
Jack stared a moment, then managed to stammer- You mean, youve decided to accept my application?
Rorck laughed- a great, booming sound that seemed to rock the room. Why, of course. I had that decided before I ever told the receptionist to call you. Youll learn young man, that I never ask a prospective crewmember to see me unless Ive already decided to accept their application. As it is, we could use you. We just had one of our more promising young crewmembers transfer out. he stopped, and laughed fondly. Something about the Valiant being a bit old, and there being not enough opportunities for advancement. I cant imagine what she meant. Sat- our pilot- suggested maybe she was scared off by us.
Jack was speechless. His dream was coming truebut he didnt feel quite as sure about his choice as he had when he had sent off his application. thanks. Itll be an honor serving your sier, Silas. I
Rorck cut him off. Sure, sure. he stood, and continued. Meet me at landing pad B-23 at 8am sharp on Saturday. The Valiant is departing at noon, and I want to be there for the pre-flights. Understood?
Jack also stood, and took a sip of the now cool- what was it? Tea? Whatever it was, it was good. Thank you sir. he said, opting for the sir now that Rorck himself seemed to be using that mode of address.
Your welcome. Take the tea- those cups were given to me by my sister, and I hate them. Jack laughed without meaning to. He had the feeling he was going to get to like this oddball of a Captain.
Jack stood at the edge of landing pad B-23 at three minutes before 8. His mother and father were standing next to him, his mother tearful at her sons leaving, his father gruffly unemotional. A voice called out, and Jack turned to see Rorck striding towards him, this time dressed in a uniform. A small carrying case was in his hand, bulged just slightly.
Rorck stopped short of them, and stuck out his hand towards Admiral Hill. Sir. I promise Ill take good care of your son. Jordan gripped the hand, and managed a nod, then turned to Jack.
Good luck son. he said, and Jacks mother nodded her agreement. Jack gave them one last smile, then turned and followed Rorck to the small shuttle that was sitting on the landing pad, ready to go.
He climbed into the tiny interior behind Rorck, and took a seat on the small bench that was along the side. Rorck climbed up to the cockpit area, and took the copilots seat. Turning to look back at Jack, he motioned to the pilot. This is Satara Rawlins, our pilot.
Satara turned too, and Jack just stared. She was a slim, beautiful young woman. She couldnt have been older than he, and she had long jet black hair contained in a modest French braid. Luminous black-violet eyes were set above a mouth with the reddest lips Jack had ever seen. She was grinning companionably.
He pulled himself from his reverie to hear her say- Hey new kid. Welcome to the family. she said, a teasing grin tugging at her lips.
Jack returned the smile. Thanks. Its uhgreat to be in the family. he said tentatively.
Silas laughed. Wait until you meet them, young man, then make a judgement call! Satara turned back around with an answering laugh, and slowly lifted the throttle. A moment later, Jack felt the trembling bump as the shuttle lifted up. He leaned forward, and caught one last glimpse of his parents as the shuttle left earth.
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Apparently Santa Clara County is doing a bit better financially than our great state (maybe they understand that you have to actually levy taxes if you want to spend money?) because the entrance station was actually manned, and I later saw not one but three rangers. Thats more than Ive seen in four trips to Nisene Marks. Anyway, it was $6 for a day use pass, which I didnt begrudge them, even if I was only going to be there for a few hours.
He gave me a trail map, and I drove a short distance before I pulled over and read it. Already kind of unsure of where I was or where I wanted to go, I decided to just drive until I found an actual lot to park in. This was easily accomplished, and soon I parked next to a large picnic shelter which they had mysteriously determined was an . The symbol on the map looked like an amphitheater, but the building looked like a picnic shelter, and even had a big barbecue pit thing in the middle of it, which is not generally a feature of amphitheaters. But thats what the sign said it was, in addition to the map, so Im pretty sure I was looking at the right thing. I was actually kind of pleased the lot was right next to something big and obvious, because it would make finding the car again using the map easier. At Nisene Marks everything centers around the creek, so theres kind of a focus to the trails that makes me unconcerned about finding the car. This was a complex network of trails that I could easily have wandered in circles around for hours.
Anyway, landmark established, I headed into the woods at the nearest trailhead, the Rock Springs Trail. This wasnt one of the longer trails, but I kind of feel like the first time at a park I like to stick to some of the shorter, less ambitious trails before trekking off into the backwoods. That way I can get a feel for the terrain and get a feel for how fast I can cover distance on the map (I dont really have a good sense for how long it takes me to walk a mile, but Im pretty good at looking at a map and saying Okay, it took me 25 minutes to walk that, and that trail looks about twice as long, so if I guess an hour, Ill probably be okay) Cindy was home with two grouchy kids, so I didnt want to hike off somewhere remote and not get back in good season.
At the very entrance to the trail, leaning against the sign were two sticks, obviously someones walking sticks. There was a short one, presumably a childs, and a tall one. I felt a little bad breaking up a family of sticks, but I liked the look of the larger one, so I grabbed it and took it with me. It was a nice walking stick. It was redwood, and it had been cut (probably not by the previous ownerthey seemed unusually zealous about keeping trails clear here, so there were lots of cut limbs lying around) so it was good, fresh, solid wood, not dry or rotten junk that had been lying around the forest floor for years. It was nearly as tall as me and had a pretty good heft to it. It was really probably overkill for a walking stick, but I liked it.
It was the sort of trail that called for a walking stick. It went steeply downward for a long while, zig-zagging some. The forest was a mix of second-growth redwood and various other species. Occasionally a nearly dry streambed crossed the path. The must be perpetually nearly dry, because the solution for crossing most of them seemed to consist of dumping a load of sand in and just letting the water percolate through the other side. Near the bottom I stopped and followed the stream back a bit, to a little pool into which water was dripping down a two foot drop. It was actually fairly deep, maybe a foot and half. Little beetles of some sort were swimming in it, and I crouched next to the pool and watched them for a while.
I heard movement nearby, and I stood and saw a teeny-tiny little bird hopping along, and then fly off into the woods. I have no idea what kind of bird it was—it was probably smaller than any bird Ive ever seen, save hummingbirds, but it didnt appear to be one of those.
I made my way to the bottom of Rock Springs Trail, and continued to meander about on other trails. If this park had one problem, it was that there were so many trails overlapping each other that it was kind of easy to get confused, particularly when they crossed a road and then didnt continue directly across but required wandering up and down the road in search of the trail. At one point I got on the right trail, going the wrong way and found myself back at the ranger station. Soon after I decided to go off-trail exploring and made it about fifty feet before encountering the large specimen of poison oak Ive seen in my short history of encountering poison oak at all. So I gave up on that idea and what back to trails.
From my detour down at the entrance station, I decided to swing up near the edge of the park, and then back east to the car again. This proved easier said than done. After finding myself at a mysterious camping site full of some strange youth group, I concluded I had no idea where I was and decided to wander off trail again, since none of the trails I was on seemed to be taking me in the right direction (I was using the sun to navigate, otherwise, Id have just kept walking in the wrong direction).
My second foray into offroading went much better, though I ran into a steep slope very quickly and had to pick my way down slowly with the help of my stick. Walking along I came across a fence and the roof of a house, and I decided I must in fact have hit the edge of the park, a realization that eventually did help me figure out where I was. I turned about 90 degrees and continued.
After a little while I came across what I first thought was just a heap of brush, but as I walked around it I realized it was hollow. I walked around until I found a small entrance. There were the remains of a piece of caution tape that appeared to have once spanned the entrance, but they were ripped, so I declared it safe and went in (leaving my walking stick outside to blend with the rest of the heap.)
Inside it was cool and kind of dark, though there were enough gaps that it wouldnt have made much of a shelter. Although the entrance had required me to get pretty low, there was actually enough room in it for me to sit up comfortably, and a lot of space to spread out. I leaned against one side and relaxed. Id been walking a long time, so it felt good to just sit for a while. I took out my water bottle and had a drink, and then I just sat and listened for several minutes.
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By Al Weisel
US Magazine, June 1996, pp. 90-98, 117-118
Male supermodels don't throw tantrums, give attitude or make moviesyet. They're hot right now, but how long will they last?
Imagine you're walking down the street in New York City on a beautiful sunny day when suddenly you notice something strange: People are being nice to you. They're smiling at you. Strangers say hello as they pass. Women lower their sunglasses; men stare into your eyes. This is no dream. You're supermodel Joel West, and everybody wants you.
"I don't think I will ever quite accept the attention," says West, 20, who signed a one-year, seven-figure contract with Calvin Klein last August. "People whispering, talking about me. The acknowledgment of society knowing who I am wherever I go." Of course, West's predicament is not news. Supermodels had been treated like celebrities long before West was launched into the world by the band of his Calvin Klein underwear. What is news is that West, thanks in part to those Calvin's, is one of the first male models to become an international sex object.
Not long ago, the idea of male models as sex objects was almost laughable, if not suspect. Men's fashion represented just a fraction of the industry, and men who worried about their looks were considered, somehow, less masculine. Male models, in turn, were treated as mere props and background-anonymous walk-ons who made far less money than their female counterparts. But changing attitudes toward male beauty - reflected in and even propelled in part by Klein's advertising campaigns-have empowered men in the only profession (besides, perhaps, the world's oldest) in which they had been second-class citizens.
FASHION WEEK IN NEW YORK: AT CALVIN KLEINTHE MOST prestigious of the New York menswear showsmodels listen in rapt attention as Klein recites his pre-show instructions. "Don't look serious," he says. "But no big smiles. You already look like you could wear a $2,000 suit, so you don't have to try to look proud." Klein makes a quick exit, then returns just as quickly. "I just thought of something else," he says. "If there's one word to describe the feeling, think sex."
One of the sexiest models isn't here today. Tyson Beckford, who made history last year as the first African-American male to ink an exclusive deal with a major designer, is prohibited by his contract with Polo Ralph Lauren from doing other designers' shows. So it's up to models like Alex Lundqvist, 24, a sweet-faced Swede with long blond hair and a wispy mustache and goatee, has compelling eyes, clear and blue. Fellow Wilhelmina model Mark Vanderloo is a trim Dutchman with spiky blond hair. At 27, he's the world's highest-paid male model, with an annual income of more than $1 million.
Across the room, Jason Olive, a volleyball player who graduated last year from the University of Hawaii, displays his massive chest. But he's not just showing offhe says he'll be wearing a turtleneck in the show and doesn't want to mess up his makeup. "Why don't you parade around shirtless like Olive?" Lundqvist is asked, and he snaps back, "Because I think it's tacky." Then he reconsiders. "Well, maybe if I was as big as him..." Olive isn't the only model who makes Lundqvist envious. Looking over at Joel West, he whispers, "Did Joel tell you how much money he makes?"
It's natural that West would be the source of jealousy among other models. Last August the small-town boy from Indianola, Iowa, was plucked from obscurity and vaulted to the top tier of male supermodels when he signed on with Calvin Klein. Apparently, though, there is trouble in paradise. "I'm not doing many shows this year," says West, sighing. Last season he was Klein's star model. Now, he says, disappointed at his placement in the show, "I'm 57th."
IN THE LOBBY OF BOSS MODELS, A GIANT BLOWUP OF THE now infamous Calvin Klein underwear ad featuring Joel West looms: "It makes me proud," says West, who has stopped by the agency to pick up his fan mailall of which turns out to be from men." I wish some girls would write me," he says plaintively, quickly adding he doesn't mind having so many male fans. Later, West confesses, "I'm a very trusting person." Which might explain why he wasn't fazed when a photographer approached him at the Mall of America Dairy Queen in Minneapolis while he was eating a Blizzard on an outing with his church group. The photographer asked West, 17 at the time, to model for him. West's mother, Jan Gipple, was more wary, having "heard things about the fashion industry," he says, and insisted on accompanying him. "We had a five-hour drive to get him to [the shoot]," says Gipple. "It's in this abandoned warehouse, and I'm thinking, This is great; we're just going to leave you at an abandoned warehouse with this stranger. I wonder if you're going to be there when we pick you up." The photographer turned out to be aboveboard, but Gipple, 42, a veterinary technician who herself grew up in Indianola, still wasn't convinced West would make it: "In Iowa, what are the chances of your getting anywhere in modeling?"
West, however, with his otherworldly beautylithe, defined body, pouty lips and exotic eyessoon became familiar to anyone who picked up a magazine. But he had no idea just how familiar he would become. In October 1995, a couple of months after he signed on with Calvin Klein, West was propelled to instant notoriety with a controversial underwear campaign featuring him spread-eagled and clad only in his Calvins. The advertisements' sexual frankness made them ripe for attack (especially coming after Klein's much-assailed ad campaign featuring teen-age models a few months earlier), and West became nightly fodder for tabloid TV shows, which camped out in his family's yard in Iowa.
West's father, Rob West, 41, who operates a backhoe for a construction company and hasn't seen much of his son since divorcing Joel's mother when Joel was 14, says, "I. was happy he was making the money, but I didn't really like the ads. They were risqué." Gipple, on the other hand, had a more practical view: "I said, 'It's pretty hard to sell a product if you're not going to show it."' The strongest reaction, surprisingly, came from Linda J. Wachner, CEO of Warnaco, which owns Calvin Klein's underwear division; she publicly excoriated them. "This ad which appeared with this gentleman's legs spread apart was not approved by Warnaco," she said. "There are no plans to use that shot again."
West was shocked by the controversy. "I didn't understand where they were coming from," he says. "I took it very personally." Meanwhile, he had to deal with instant celebrity. "I've lost a lot of my privacy," he says. "There were a few months of adjustment where I was in limbo. I wasn't happy." He denies media reports that the pressure made him flee New York for Iowa. "I love New York," he says. "I purchased a home in Iowa to be close to my family." West shares his new housewith its circular driveway, pillars and fountain in frontwith his maternal grandparents, who take care of it when he's away. "It's like something out of Gone With the Wind," marvels his mother.
West's mother and stepfather, Michael Gipple, a fleet mechanic for the Mid American Energy Company, live just down the road with Joel's 17-year-old brother, Jake. West has nicknamed Jake "Deviant" because of his penchant for mischieflike trying to break into West's laptop. Joel's father, who grew up in and still lives in Indianola, says, "Joel looks like me and takes after his mom. Jake looks like his mom and takes after me. Jake's more wild. Joel's more laid-back."
West's high-school teachers have nothing but nice things to say about him, which isn't surprising since he was voted biggest brown-noser by his class. "Joel always had a ready smile," gushes his chemistry teacher, Irene Bertsch. "He was a very hard worker." She wasn't shocked by the ads. "I saw Joel at several swim meets, and actually there was more covered in the ad than there was in the tiny little Speedos they wear," she says.
But things in Iowa are not quite the same. "I have a lot more friends and family members," West says cynically. "People coming out of the woodwork." He says that people who once thought he was "a geeky bookworm" now think he's "cool," including his girlfriend, Joy Ashbaugh. She ignored West when they attended high school together"She was in the elite, the cool girls who hung out with the cool guys," he saysand started dating him only after he became a successful model. "I've stayed the same," he says. "The only thing that's changed is the people around me." His mother, however, has detected some changes in West. "He may be more leery of people than he used to be," she says. "Since I'm not familiar with the media, Joel kept telling me, 'Don't tell them everything, Mom, because things get twisted.'" But she also thinks "it made him very worldly. He acts a lot older than any 20-year-old I've met."
Otherwise he's the same kid she raised. "He's possessed to excel in everything he does," she says. "He drives everyone crazy being an overachiever." But there's also another side to him. "He's the biggest romantic," she says. "For his girlfriend at Thanksgiving he filled his room with balloons, had a candlelight dinner and cooked this gourmet meal. I'm thinking, Most guys would just pull up, honk, and you run out."
ONE MIGHT THINK THAT BEING AN OBJECT OF DESIRE WOULD make it easy to find a mate. But most models say maintaining a relationship is one of the difficulties of the job. Tyson Beckford, who has dated Chilli from TLC, says that in addition to the fact that "you're never home," jealousy can be a big problem. "I've dated girls, and they'll be like, 'Oh, she was looking at you,' and I'll be like, 'No, she wasn't. She was just being nice.'" One of the best things about the woman he recently started dating is that she's not jealous. "We went to a pre-Grammy party, and all these girls were coming up to me, but she was cool about it," he says.
Some models end up with the people who best know what their lives are like: other models. "Another model knows what you have to go through," says Vanderloo. "And they aren't the ugliest girls in the world, either." Ask Alex Lundqvist. He dated supermodel Nadja Auermann for more than a year (although the relationship ended in February).
For models who aren't ready to settle down, there are plenty of opportunities for fleeting pleasures. "One time I was dog tired and went out to a club for a drink," recalls 24-year-old Jason Lewis, who has been modeling for three years. "A woman recognized who I was and basically offered to go to bed with me. I said, 'That's great, but I'm really tired,' and walked out." And when he's not so tired? "I've certainly had relationships with women that lasted an evening," he says, "but I don't screw around that much. I don't want anyone greeting me with bulls, and I don't think it's fair of me to do the same."
Of course, women aren't the only ones who have crushes on guys like Lewis. The top male models, however, don't seem either publicly or privately to identify as gay. Not that they're homophobic, either. "I've had men have crushes on me," says Atlanta native Mark Fisher, 20, who is currently appearing in the new Polo Sport campaign. "I treat them the same as anybody else."
"TEN YEARS AGO, THE STANDARD MALE MODEL WAS PERFECT face, perfect body. Boring, really," says casting agent Leslie Simitch. "I think now there's a much wider range of what we consider attractive in a man." In the '70s, the elegant, square-jawed GQ look was in. In the '80s, renowned fashion photographer Bruce Weber popularized more-athletic bodies with pumped-up pectorals and chiseled abdominals. "Many male models now are scrawny," says Simitch. "And a lot have long hair."
But the idea that men can be just as sexy as womenand that male models can be marketed as sex objectswhose men's division is the largest in the worldand his New York director, Jason Kanner, have been doing everything in their power to cultivate this phenomenon and make it last. One of Kanner's first assignments when he joined the agency in 1991 was to manage Marcus Schenkenberg, now 27, who was soon to appear in a 116-page advertising supplement for Calvin Klein photographed by Bruce Weber. In the most famous shot, Schenkenberg is naked in a shower, his ripped torso dripping wet, and holding jeans in front of what he modestly refers to in Swedish-filtered English as his "fireman." Kanner had a radical plan for promoting Schenkenberg: Market him like a female model. The agency raised his rates, from $3,000 to as much as $20,000 a day, and was more selective about the jobs he took." He'd do three or four campaigns instead of 12 but get more money," explains Kanner. "This was done with women, never with men." The strategy worked: Schenkenberg was in such demand after the campaign, his rates went up, which helped increase rates for other male models as well.
One February afternoon, Kanner is looking through a sea of photographs spread out before him. He's just returned from scouting in Milan, where he chose five of the 500 men he saw. Kanner points out the attributes of the men he selected: the "sunken cheekbones, ivory skin and jet-black hair" of one, "the perfect nose, full lips and great jaw line" of another. Then, sounding like a high-school misfit getting revenge on the popular guys, he sizes up the rejects. One model "looks like a schoolteacher," he says. Of another he complains, "There's way too many odd things happening on this guy's face." Kanner knows he has an advantage over them. "When I'm 60," he says, "I'm still going to have a job."
Looks aren't everything, though, even in modeling. Jennifer Starr, who was Bruce Weber's casting assistant for four years before going free-lance recently, says that she looks for qualities that are more than skin-deep. "At first it's the physical look," she says. "But after that it's all attitude. When I find someone on the street and take a Polaroid of them, I'm looking to see how they react to me and the camera- if they're stiff, how they hold themselves. You have to be comfortable with who you are." But not too comfortable. "Sometimes after you've been in this business awhile," she says, "you've got it down, and that's not interesting to work with anymore. That spontaneity is gone."
THE STANDARDS OF BEAUTY, LIKE THOSE OF FASHION, DO change. But some models, like Tyson (Beckford is his last name, but like some of the female supermodels, he eschews his surname), are so stunningly beautiful that it doesn't matter if their look is "in" at the moment. Although he's 6-foot-1, Tyson looks smaller in person than in photographs, but his face is even more breathtaking, with Asian eyes, full lips and silky, dark skin. When he smiles, he can look as gentle as a kitten; when he frowns, as mean as a rattlesnake. Before shooting a commercial for Polo, Tyson changes clothes, taking off the baggy B-boy jeans he prefers and dancing around as he struggles to pull tight jeans over his massive thighs. Then he takes off his shirt, revealing jaw-dropping muscles as well as something one never sees under the tailored suits he wears so elegantlya rebellious streak. After he signed a Polo Ralph Lauren contract for a reported $550,000 last year, Tyson covered his arms with tattoos.
Dragons are etched on his biceps. Both forearms have Chinese inscriptions. He translates the sentence on his right forearm, a tribute to his older brother Patrick, who was murdered in a mugging four years ago. But Tyson declines to decipher the message on the other arm: "It's a secret," he says, "for me and my homies. We all got the same thing." The tattoo illustrates why he will probably survive no matter what happens to him in the treacherous waters of the fashion world. In English it reads, "Don't trust anybody."
While watching a comedian in New York's Washington Square Park in the summer of 1991, Tyson was approached by an editor for the hip-hop magazine The Source who offered him a modeling job. "This guy goes to me, 'You got pretty eyes,'" Tyson, 25, recalls. "I'm thinking, Must be some porno magazine:" But then the editor said something that piqued Tyson's interest. "The opportunities," he said, "are endless:" Two days later, Tyson had his first gig. But because he really wanted a job in the music industry, Tyson drifted out of modeling. Patrick encouraged him to pursue it. "In modeling," his brother told him coincidentally, "the opportunities are endless."
Tyson was born in the Bronx, N.Y., but the family moved to Jamaica when he was just a baby. His mother, Hilory Dixon, who once won third place in a Miss Jamaica contest, moved them back to New York when Tyson was 7 after separating from his father. She later married Lloyd Dixon, who worked for a collection agency and was always calling people up saying, "You owe us money," Tyson remembers. "I grew up not really having a father image," he says. "I used to think my stepfather was the meanest man in the world." Tyson resented being forced by Dixon, who now works for Citibank, to learn how to do taxes for the money he earned from his paper route when he was 13. "I said I'm never gonna need to know how to deal with that," he says. "But now I'm dealing with it. I didn't understand when I was a kid. He's still in there with me today. He means a lot to me."
When Tyson first moved to New York, the other kids made fun of the way he looked and talked. "I was this dark-skinned Chinese kid with an Afro who spoke with a heavy Jamaican accent," says Tyson, whose paternal grandmother is Chinese. "If you think about it, it's kind of funny. They called me Mr. Chin." Because he spoke Jamaican patois, he says, "I had to take classes to learn to speak so-called English. Since I couldn't speak too well, I had to stay back a year." After graduating at 19, he attended a community college but dropped out after one semester. Then, in August 1992, Tyson's brother Patrick was murdered. "I got in my own shell and didn't want to do nothing," he says.
A year later Tyson saw actor Kadeem Hardison on The Arsenio Hall Show talking about his mother Bethann's modeling agency. Recalling his brother's words about opportunities in modeling, Tyson went to see her.
Hardison was impressed with Tyson but cautious. "You never know who's going to take off, because you have such racism in the industry," she says." Most fashion people don't know the beauty of blacks, so you don't want to encourage someone too much. "Hardison herself was a modeland as one of the first successful black models in the '60s, a pioneer. With dreadlocks down to the small of her back and a radiant smile, she's stunning, and as tough as she is charming. When she was 19, Hardison dropped out of fashion briefly to become a corrections officer after being "inspired by The Snake Pit [the 1948 film about mental illness]," she recalls, laughing.
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No one knows how many of us have at one time or another experienced mystical awareness. The experience seems to be uncommon, but not actually rare. Perhaps, then, a few million people worldwide have experienced it.
Despite that mystical awareness is not nearly as common as conscious awareness, it can be obvious to even a casual reader of the world’s religious literature that the experience of mystical awareness has informed and inspired much of that literature. That seems especially true in the East.
For instance: While the foundational literatures of the Abrahamic religions the Torah, Bible, Qur’an, etc are comparatively devoid of references to mystical awareness, the foundational literatures of the great Eastern religions the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, the Tao Te Ching, the Dharmmapada, etc. are thick with such references. It is even possible to assert, with reason, that mystical awareness is at the very core of such Eastern religions as Buddhism and Taoism.
The Study of Mystical Awareness
In my opinion, the phenomenon of mystical awareness has yet to be adequately studied by science. There is, for instance, no effort to study mystical awareness that is comparable to the efforts to study conscious awareness. In part, that may be because science has traditionally been dominated by Westerners, and Westerners usually come from cultures where mysticism is more or less a cultural backwater. But it is also because mystical awareness presents a number of challenges to easy study. Some of those challenges will become evident later on in this essay.
My hunch is some people are shocked by the notion mystical awareness should be scientifically studied. That is likely because for some people, mystical awareness is inseparable from supernatural forces, entities, and so forth. To suggest that science should study mystical awareness is for those people much the same as saying that science should study the gods an impossibility. However, I’m of the insufferable opinion that mystical awareness is a natural phenomenon that can be studied by natural means.
During the Muslim Siege of Constantinople in 1453, St. Elmo’s Fire was seen emitting from the top of the Hippodrome. The mysterious Fire caused quite a stir. It was not understood at that time that St. Elmo’s Fire was a natural phenomenon. The Byzantines attributed it to a sign that the Christian God would soon come and destroy the invading Muslim army.
I think the way the Byzantines responded to the sight of St. Elmo’s Fire illustrates the human tendency to attribute unexplained natural phenomena to supernatural causes. What we cannot explain, we often call an act of god. Yet, merely because the science of the day cannot explain something is no logical reason to deem that thing metaphysical in origin.
For over thirty years, I have been interested in mystical experiences (especially the sort of mystical experience that is sometimes called “enlightenment”). Mystical experiences seem to me to be natural phenomena. That is, they seem to be phenomena that can be wholly explained in natural terms.
Maybe I’m right about that, maybe I’m wrong.
Anything is possible, and mystical experiences may yet defeat all efforts to explain them entirely in natural terms. But even if they do even if a hundred years from now we still have no entirely adequate natural explanation for mystical experiences it would even then be illogical to assume on that basis alone that mystical experiences require us to posit a supernatural origin for them. St. Elmo’s Fire proves that.
If we had reasoned in 1543 that St. Elmo’s Fire must have a supernatural cause, simply because we don’t know of any natural cause for it, we would have been wrong. And if we reason in 2009 that mystical experiences must have a supernatural cause, simply because we currently don’t know of any natural causes that wholly explain them, we would again be wrong.
Naturalism is the notion that phenomena can only be explained in terms of natural causes. It is the opposite of the doctrine that at least some phenomena can only be explained in terms of metaphysical causes. Naturalism comes in more than one flavor, which allows folks to argue passionately about which flavor they like best:
Ontological naturalism is the flavor of naturalism that asserts nothing metaphysical exists. Nature is all there is.
Epistemological naturalism is the flavor of naturalism that asserts we can know only nature. Our ability to know ends where nature ends.
I usually find ontological naturalism too speculative for my tastes: How can we possibly know whether or not anything exists metaphysically — beyond nature? There seems to be no reliable method for accomplishing that chore. So most days I am more kindly disposed towards epistemological naturalism than ontological naturalism. Thus I have approached the study of mystical awareness from the standpoint of an epistemological naturalist.
Please Don’t Sue Me Disclaimer
Despite all I’ve said so far, there are limits to what can be consciously known about mystical awareness. The word “mystic” can be traced back to an Indo-European root meaning “to be silent or mum”. It is widely recognized by mystics of all cultures that many aspects of mystical awareness are and will always be beyond the understanding of conscious awareness. In any discussion of mystical awareness, it cannot be over-emphasized how radically distinct mystical awareness is from conscious awareness:
The tao that can be told
Is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named
Is not the eternal Name.
Where the one awareness is, the other is not.
What is a “Mystical Experience”?
What a mystical experience is depends on who you speak with. Some people would call an experience “mystical” if it involved an intense emotion — such as an overwhelming feeling of awe when witnessing a large waterfall or a sunrise. Others might call an experience “mystical” if it involved something they considered metaphysical — such as seeing a ghost, experiencing god, or using magic crystals.
Those are legitimate uses of the word, of course, but they are not my usage. When I refer to an experience as “mystical”, I am referring quite specifically to an awareness in which subject/object perception has come to an end while experiencing continues. During such an experience, there is no awareness of a distinction between the observer and the observed, the knower and the known, the self and other than the self — That is, between the subject and the object of awareness. All within the field of awareness is perceived as a unity as one.
At this point we might ask, who or what does the experiencing when conscious awareness is interrupted and the mystical experience occurs?
For normally, when our conscious awareness is at work, we tend to think it (i.e. our mind, our conscious awareness, our consciousness, our self, our ego, our “I”) experiences the world. But when conscious awareness ceases, then who or what does the experiencing?
Of course, one answer is the organism, the individual, the body, the senses and the brain these are still experiencing even though conscious awareness has ceased and is no longer experiencing.
How Do We Know Anything At All About Mystical Experiences?
Near as I can tell, no one has actually observed themselves having a mystical experience because, during the experience itself, the observer (which is a property of conscious awareness) is not present. There is simply an awareness without, however, anyone who is aware. Thus it might be reasonably asked how we know anything at all about mystical experiences?
Well, if I’m right about these things — and, of course, I’m usually painfully wrong about these things — then everything we know about mystical experiences is ultimately derived from what we know of their aftereffects on our consciousness.
Imagine a calm pond with a smooth surface. Then imagine a stone thrown into that pond. Now pretend you didn’t see the stone go into the pond. Instead, you turned only in time to watch the aftereffects of the stone’s entry into the water. What can you deduce about “whatever it was” that made those spreading ripples you now see on the pond?
Sally is not consciously aware of her mystical experience during the experience itself. Only as Sally’s experience ends as her consciousness once again reasserts itself does she notice something has happened.
At that point, it is somewhat likely, but not guaranteed, that Sally will try to interpret what has happened, for it seems that some people immediately try to interpret what has happened to them, while others refuse to do so. I myself don’t know whether refusing to interpret a mystical experience is completely possible, but it does seem to some extent possible.
For an unknown reason, there appears to be a correlation between holding out, refusing as much as possible to interpret an experience, and how much that experience transforms us. If that’s so, then the less Sally interprets her experience, or the longer she holds out, the more it will transform her.
Let’s say Sally tries to interpret her mystical experience immediately upon becoming aware something has happened. It is highly likely Sally will think she is in the very midst of her experience, rather than recognize her experience has already ended. However, it seems logically impossible for us to be both mystically aware and consciously aware at the same moment. Either we perceive a division between subject and object, or we do not. Either the observer is present, or it is not. What Sally is simultaneously observing and interpreting are the aftereffects of a mystical experience. She is not seeing the stone enter the water, but is instead seeing the ripples on the pond.
Conclusion
I have barely touched on some of the issues involved in the study of mystical awareness. However, I think it was about time that I discussed them to the extent I did. After all, I had written several posts to this blog that discussed mystical awareness, but had yet to write anything about how we know about mystical awareness. If I have had the good fortune to be right about some of these issues, then please leave your compliments in the comments section. On the other hand, if I have screwed up in my usual fashion, then please go to Rambodocs blog and complain to him the more bitterly, the better. He likes it that way.
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An American university professor/blogger doesnt get it. He says I want to people. Actually, no. I want them to act professionally. I dont want them to come on to, date and/or sleep with someone, then grade their work, decide on their scholarships, etc.
Of course, Dr. Bourrie is playing words games. He wants to coerce them if they act in a manner that he finds unprofessional. If they act like he wants them to act, if they act like him, no problem. Nothing new here, particularly in the area of sexuality. Follow my sexual standards or else! Nothing new here in reference to authoritarianism, just follow the ethic handed down from above, and all will be OK.
And then there is Bourries naivete or is it verbal manipulation? Note his statement- I dont want them to come on to, date and/or sleep with someone, then grade their work, decide on their scholarships, etc. This is sexism to the nth degree! Male active, female passive. A female student coming on to a male prof is nothing unusual, such has never been unusual and will never be unusual. Maybe the case is that female students do not find Bourrie attractive but such does not mean that they do not find other male profs attractive. I know this to be a fact based on my 35 years of experience as a professor as well as based on the experiences of many other professors and the many female students who have contacted me in regards to their love of their professor. And if Bourrie is unaware of male profs and female students marrying, such is other worldly. If female students were not attracted to male profs then the issue of consensual relationships would not be an issue.
Then Bourrie states-
If sex between profs and students is so right, why do the profs involved keep it a secret? I figure anything that cant take public scrutiny tends to be illegal, immoral or fattening. U of T gets that aspect, too, and its a good start.
I ask Bourrie and his confreres, if in the past homosexuals believed their homosexuality right, then why did homosexuals keep their homosexuality secret? Why were homosexuals so closeted? Any person with some degree of common sense knows the answer to these questions. Being in the closet, keeping such things secret, does not mean that the secreted believe they are wrong, but often means that they do not want to be harassed, stigmatized and fired. As persons without power, they do not want to be subject to the power abuse of bureaucrats, police and various agents of moral zealots; moral zealots who act self-righteously in the name of their morality, their professionalism, etc.
And in more general terms about Bourries feeling that anything cant take public scrutiny tends to be illegal, immoral or fattening. Very funny if one does not believe in the right to privacy, in this case the right to privacy by consenting adults. I assumed that even so-called professionals believe sexual relationships between adults in private was OK. If the Concordia prof and student came out publicly, I guess Bourrie would feel OK about this rather than feeling that they were flaunting their relationship. I believe most people who are opposed to student professor relationships want them to be in the closet, not out in public for all to see, not engaging in marriage ceremonies, etc.
Bourrie then cites the University of Toronto policy in he following terms-
Heres U of Ts policy. At least they recognize the conflict and say the affair must be disclosed, but look at the weasel word in the first paragraph. I would prefer :
University policy does not prohibit sexual relations between consenting adults. However, if you form any kind of intimate personal relationship with someone who teaches you or otherwise makes academic decisions affecting you, that teacher has a conflict of interest. She or he should disclose the conflict of interest to their academic supervisor - usually the Chair of the department or the Dean of the faculty - and should ensure that your work is graded by a colleague.
If your teacher does not disclose the conflict of interest, s/he is not simply in breach of University policy: s/he is showing a negligent disregard for your academic interests, and placing the legitimacy of your academic accomplishments in question.
Has Dr. Bourrie really thought thru the implications and possible consequences of policies of this sort? If not, I suggest that the good professor put himself in the position of the involved student and the professor who is committed to following university rules. One day, you as the student are removed from the classroom and theoretically put in another class for your own good. (Sometimes the student may not be physically removed from the class, but graded by another prof, no matter whether she stays or goes, the problems remain essentially the same.) And, in addition, you know that the university administrators who are you, know of your sexual activity that led to your removal. And then you will have to deal with the reality that it is your special professor who informed on you and has helped to remove you from his class. What kind of professor would do this? What kind of professor would do this to a woman who he supposedly loved? And for the involved professor his life goes on, no serious disruption since the disclose dispose policy, as some call it, has been implemented. I ask Dr. Bourrie, who professes to be a person who believes in this policy, have you ever given one iota of thought to the exiled student? Or was she simply a non-person who was disposed of? And this policy is implemented by some to correct a power imbalance; this is power imbalance at its worst.
But, of course, there is more, much more which is damning about this sort of policy. Supposedly the student is removed from class so that differential non-prejudicial grading can take place. But once the student is removed one can be assured that differential grading will take place since all the students but one will have the same grader. For the professor who is committed to fair and objective grading, the professor grades all the students using the same standard irrespective of whether the prof likes or dislikes the student.
However, dealing with the possible reality of the student being removed from class, who will be the grader and will the grader be able to grade this student as the regular prof grades all of the other students? How can it be assured that a colleague of the professor will grade the student objectively, that his or her feeling about the special prof or the student, will not interfere with the grading? Will the grader be told that the student is the lover of the prof? And what if the grade is based on an in class project, on class participation, how will this be dealt with? And what if the student is taken out of an art or music or theatre arts or sports class? How can the prof deal with this? Shouldnt the grading prof be forced to sit thru the entire class and then grade the student?
It is amazing that so many people, so many academics, are taken in by a policy that after a bit of thought one cannot help but label said policy as a sham. Academics often have knee jerk responses to these policies. Why? Because most academics give little thought to the intricacies, complexities and ethics of grading. Grading is at the bottom of the academic totem pole. Tell me about one professor at Concordia or UT who was hired in part because of their grading practices. Tell me about any university that has workshops for new or old faculty on grading practices. Of course, many faculty dont grade, they ship out grading to teaching assistants. So much for the importance of grading.
Bottom line is that the policies that Bourrie, et. al., advocate are not based on a commitment to good grading but are rather based on rooting out those who they see as sexual deviants. In the dankprofessors opinion the irony regarding Bourrie and his concern for his daughter at the hands of a so-called predator professor is that his daughter would probably be at much greater risk if she becomes involved in the hookup and drinking culture associated with all too many colleges than if she became involved with her English or Theatre Arts professor. As the dankprofessor has indicated previously-
the love of knowledge can lead to the knowledge of love. Such passions simply cannot be destroyed or regulated by campus bureaucrats or professionals of any kind.
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this is a gift my friend gave me that traveled all the way from china but found a way to me. its pretty random but its relevent to how im feeling today.
[ HOSTESS BAR THE SEX WORKER INDUSTRY. ]
. cultural experince and internet response .
i blogged this on my account on alivenotdead.com: i went to my first hostess bar, and for me, it was a cultural experience and for me, self reflection. i spent most of the night hanging out with clients, one was informing more about the culture of hostess bars. hostess bar is lingering in the grey of sex worker industry, in my opinion. and im not to say that hostess bars are bad, they are deeply rooted in asian culture. from the standpoint of an american, of a female, and of a chinese american, i have sympathy for both sexes in this culture: i was informed that some men that go to hostess bars go to seek attention that they are not getting at home, because no one will pay attention to them or listen to what they have to say to me, i cant imagine having to throw down cash in exchange to feel appreciated. i have sympathy for the girls because the culture in hostess bars is sexual harassment/assault that is socially acceptable. perhaps im too proud as a person and i cant put a price on my body or to be degraded mentally. i couldnt allow someone to throw cash at me so they can put their hand up my skirt or down my shirt. not gonna lie though, the cash can be good. some girls get $600 a day, which is a pretty penny. the stuff i witnessed at the hostess bar was pretty g-rated, but is something i personally have no desire to go back to. i dont have pity for people who are invoveld in this culture, just sympathy to these ideas because i am not one to judge. and i have no quarrels with the sex worker industry per say, more or less sympathy for some areas as well respond more to an individual basis, does the person understand themselves and what they are doing? is it healthy? how can they progress and lead their lives? etc. personally i dig strip clubs, hooters, seeing import models, perhaps i have a better understanding of the culture as well (according to ariel levys female chauvinist pigs, i would fall on the lines as a female chauvinist, which is a terrible oxymoron.) i need to thoroughly research the image scene of southern california, because thats fascinating as well - for instance, i know that its hard to keep record of polling the sex worker industry, but technically about 98% of sex workers were sexually abused.
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Synopsis of the Pre-Pius XII Ritual
When the Solemn Prayers are finished, the major ministers go to the sedilia, and remove their maniples; the priest removes his black chasuble and subdeacon removes his black folded chasuble. (The deacon by this point is already in "broad stole" which he changed into during the chanting of the Passion. This he he leaves on.)
The deacon in broad stole then goes to the altar, takes the veiled Cross, and brings it to the priest. The Cross is uncovered in three stages; the title is uncovered first, then the right arm and head, then the veil is completely removed. At each of these three stages, the priest raises the Cross and sings the words Ecce lignum Crucis the deacon and subdeacon sing together with him in quo salus mundi pependit. To this the choir answers Venite, adoremus, and all except the priest kneel down, turning towards the Cross. At the first stage, this is done on the floor of the sanctuary, on the Epistle side; for the second, they ascend to the middle step of the altar, remaining on the Epistle side; for the third, they ascend to the middle of the predella.
When the Cross has been completely uncovered, all remain kneeling, while the priest carries the Cross down to the middle of the lowest step of the altar. During the Solemn Prayers, the acolytes lay on the floor, in the middle of the sanctuary, a violet carpet, and upon the lowest step itself, a violet cushion, symbol of the regality of Christ. This cushion is covered with a large white veil, which represents the Shroud of His burial. All rise, and the priest, deacon and subdeacon genuflect to the Cross once more. They then go to the seats, where they remove their shoes, as do all of the acolytes and the attending clergy; the adoration of the Cross is done barefoot, an ancient gesture of repentance. Meanwhile, the choir begins to sing the Improperia, or Reproaches of Christ to His people, one of the most beautiful texts in the Missal.
All those who are in the sanctuary go in procession to the Cross, first the priest, then the deacon and subdeacon together, then the acolytes and attending clergy in pairs. As each person comes towards the Cross, he stops before It three times, and makes the so-called double genuflection, that is, kneels and makes a profound bow. The third of these stations is made immediately before the Cross; each person kisses the feet of the Crucified Lord, then rises, genuflects again, and returns to his place. When all those in the sanctuary have thus adored the Cross, it is brought outside the sanctuary, together with the violet cushion and its white veil, for the adoration of the faithful. (It should be noted that in the Byzantine Rite, the double genuflections and adoration of the Cross are done in a very similar way during the ceremonies of Good Friday.)
When the priest, deacon and subdeacon have returned to their seats, they put back on their shoes and the priest and subdeacon wear again the chasuble and folded chasuble. The first acolyte comes to them with the altar missal and kneels down, holding it open before them. While the attending clergy and faithful are still doing the adoration of the Cross, the three major ministers read the Improperia sub voce, as certain sung parts of the Mass, e.g. the Creed, are also read by the priest, deacon and subdeacon together.
When the three major ministers have finished reading the Improperia, the candles are lit upon the altar. The deacon rises and goes to the credence, where he takes the burse with the corporal in it, and a purificator, and goes to the altar. He lays the Corporal upon the altar, as at Solemn Mass, places the purificator next to it, and returns to the sedilia.
When the adoration of the Cross by the faithful is complete, the acolytes bring it back to the sanctuary; the deacon then takes it and brings it back to its place at the altar. All kneel before the Cross when it passes in front of them, as it is brought through the sanctuary.
At this point, the Blessed Sacrament is brought back to the principal altar of the church, with a solemn procession done in reverse order from the procession of the day before. With this ritual of the double procession, the Church emphasizes in the clearest way possible the connection between the Lords Supper, and His Sacrifice upon the Cross.
The priest, with all of the major and minor ministers and attending clergy, goes in procession by the shortest way to the Altar of Repose, where he kneels down along with the deacon and subdeacon. The deacon then rises, opens the tabernacle, genuflects, and brings the chalice with the Host inside forward so that it can be clearly seen, without removing it from the tabernacle; he then returns to the side of the priest. The three major ministers rise, and the priest imposes incense in two thuribles; with one of these, he incenses the Blessed Sacrament as at Benediction. He then dons the humeral veil, while the deacon goes up to the altar, and brings him the chalice with the Host inside. All of the acolytes and attending clergy form a procession, and return to the main sanctuary of the church, while the choir sings the hymn Vexilla Regis. Immediately before the priest, who holds the chalice under the humeral veil, two acolytes take turns incensing the Blessed Sacrament.
When they arrive before the main altar, the deacon receives the Sacrament from the priest, takes It up to the altar, and unties the ribbon which holds the veil on the chalice. He then arranges the veil, without removing it from the chalice, in the same way that a chalice is set upon the altar for the celebration of Mass: another clear sign of the connection between the Mass and the death of Christ upon the Cross. The priest incenses the Sacrament once again, and the Rite of the Presanctified properly so-called begins.
The priest, deacon and subdeacon go up to the altar and genuflect. The deacon removes the chalice veil, paten and soft pall, then holds the paten with two hands over the corporal. The priest takes the chalice, and allows the Host to slide from it onto the paten, then places the chalice upon the corporal. He receives the paten from the deacon and places the Host upon the corporal. The deacon puts wine in the chalice, and the subdeacon a drop of water, as at Mass. The deacon gives the chalice to the priest, and, after the latter has placed it in the middle of the corporal, covers it with the pall. All of the Offertory prayers and gestures are omitted.
As at the Offertory of Mass, the thurifer comes to the priest, who imposes incense without blessing it, and, accompanied in the usual way by the deacon and subdeacon, incenses the Host and chalice, Cross and altar as at a Solemn Mass, genuflecting whenever he passes before the Sacrament. (Neither he nor anyone else is incensed.) Then he washes his hands, as at a normal Mass, but saying nothing.
Returning to the middle of the altar, with the deacon and subdeacon in line behind him, the priest says the Offertory prayer In spiritu humilitatis he then kisses the altar, turns to the people and says Orate fratres. The response is not said, and the priest does not complete the usual turn in a circle. As the rubrics of the Missal say, he omits the rest, (secret, preface, Sanctus and Canon), and passes directly to Oremus. Praeceptis salutaribus. and the Lords Prayer, sung in the ferial tone. He then sings the embolism Libera nos out loud, also in the ferial tone, omitting all of the gestures which normally accompany it.
The deacon and subdeacon kneel on either side of the priest, slightly back from where he stands. As the priest solemnly elevates the Host, they lift his chasuble, and in place of the bell, the or noisemaker is sounded. The deacon and subdeacon rise, and the deacon uncovers the chalice. The priest performs the Fraction of the Host, saying nothing and omitting the signs of the Cross. Then, bowing over the altar, he says the prayer Perceptio corporis tui following the usual rite of Mass, he communicates with the Sacred Host. He then consumes the chalice, omitting the usual rites.
All of this rite follows, step by step, the rite of the Offertory of the Mass, and the prayers of the celebrants communion after the canon. Obviously, all of those elements which refer specifically to the celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice are omitted, along with the Canon itself. (The fraction, however, is done after the Embolism, since the latter is sung aloud.) Here we have another clear sign of the sacrificial nature of the death of Christ. The very rubrics of the Missal underline this principal that the rite is modeled on the rite of Mass; everything in them is described in reference to the practice of the normal celebration of Mass.
The priest purifies the chalice and his fingers as at Mass. The subdeacon then re-builds the chalice as at Mass and the deacon removes the broad stole and vests again in the folded chasuble. Since it is a longstanding custom of the Church that only the celebrant receives communion on this day, at this point the liturgy is effectively completed and the priest, the major and minor ministers, and the attending clergy return to the sacristy in silence. The altar is stripped again, except for the Cross and candles.
One of the most important and solemn aspects of this rite is the way in which it leaves a true and powerful sense of absence at the death of Christ. The altar of Repose is taken down, and the few Sacred Hosts remaining (kept, where necessary, for Viaticum) are brought to the sacristy or another tabernacle, not that of the main altar. The church thus left empty can only look to the Cross, awaiting the renewal of all things on the following day, the completion of the Paschal mystery. This absence of Christ is a part in itself of the rite of the Presanctified, since at the end the Sacrament is not on the Altar, and the tabernacle is left with the door open.
Synopsis of the Pius XII Reforms
The following modifications are made in the 1955 Holy Week reforms.
In the reformed Good Friday rites, black chasuble for celebrant and black folded chasubles for deacon and subdeacon are no longer used. Instead, black cope, black dalmatics, violet chasuble and violet dalmatics are used at the specified times.
When the Solemn Prayers are finished, the three major ministers return to their seats, and remove their black cope and black dalmatics. The deacon and subdeacon remain standing at the sedilia, while the deacon, together with four acolytes, goes to the sacristy to get the Cross. (As mentioned in the previous article, there is no Cross on the altar in the reformed Holy Week rites.) As he returns from the sacristy, the deacon is preceded by two acolytes, and accompanied by two others carrying lighted candles. When he arrives before the altar, the priest and subdeacon meet him in the middle, where the priest receives the Cross from the deacon. Nothing is sung during the change of vestments and the bringing in of the Cross.
The rite of uncovering the Cross is not changed, except that the two acolytes holding the candles remain at the sides of the priest.
As soon as the Cross is completely uncovered, the priest hands it to the two other acolytes, who hold it upright by the two arms, standing on the predella and facing the people. The two acolytes with the candles kneel on the predella, on the sides, where they put their candles down. The violet carpet and cushion and the white veil are not used. It is no longer obligatory for the clergy to remove their shoes. (si commode fieri possit, prius calceamenta deponunt.)
As in the earlier rite, all come in procession to the adoration of the Cross, first the priest, then the deacon and subdeacon, the acolytes and the attending clergy. The three no longer consist of the double genuflection, i.e. kneeling and making a profound bow, but rather three simple genuflections. (simplici genuflectione ter repetita.) After the third genuflection, each person kisses the feet of the Crucifix and returns to his place; the rubrics do not mention the genuflection after kissing it.
When all in the sanctuary have adored the Cross, it is brought out of the sanctuary for the adoration of the faithful. The acolytes hold it up straight, accompanied by the two other acolytes who hold the candles. The text of the Improperia was not modified, but the new rubrics specify that they are no longer read by the three major ministers.
When the adoration of the Cross is done by the faithful, the acolytes bring it back into the sanctuary, and set it in its place upon the altar; this is not done by the deacon. The two acolytes who held the candles set them on the altar.
When the Cross and candles are thus arranged upon the altar, the priest and deacon remove their black stoles; the three major minister dress as for Mass, except in violet. The maniple is not used, and the deacon and subdeacon wear dalmatic and tunicle.
The deacon ascends to the altar with the burse in hand, and extends the corporal; at the same time, an acolyte places the Missal on the Gospel side, with a purification vessel and purificator for the purification of the priest's fingers after Communion.
The deacons and acolytes go to the altar of repose to bring the Blessed Sacrament back to the main altar. (The Sacrament is of course not present as a large Host in a chalice, as in the earlier rite, but rather in a ciborium full of small Hosts.) Nothing is sung during the change of vestments or the preparation of the altar, nor while the deacon goes to the Altar of Repose.
The Sacrament is carried by the deacon under a humeral veil; two of the acolytes carry candles on either side of the deacon. The priest and subdeacon do not participate in the bringing back of the Sacrament; incense is not used. The hymn of the Cross par excellence, Vexilla Regis, is substituted by three new antiphons.
When the deacon arrives at the altar, he places the Sacrament on the corporal, while the acolytes place their candles on the altar. The deacon removes the humeral veil, genuflects, and withdraws to the Epistle side; the acolytes leave the altar, which now has four candles on it.
The priest and subdeacon make a double genuflection before the Sacrament, ascend the altar, and genuflect again with the deacon. The actions in imitation of the Mass -- the preparation of the consecrated Host upon the corporal, the preparation of the chalice, the incensation, the washing of the hands, and the prayers from the Offertory -- are no longer performed.
The introduction Oremus. Praeceptis salutaribus... is recited, not sung. The Lords Prayer is also recited, not sung, by everyone in the church, not just the priest. (A new rubric specifies that it is to be said in Latin.) The rubrics also prescribe that the priest keep his hands closed for the Lord's prayer, a rubric that does set it in distinction from the typical practice in this regard.
The Libera nos is recited, not sung, by the priest, but with hands open. He then says in silence the prayer Perceptio Corporis tui, and communicates with the normal rites of Mass. Holy Communion is then distributed to all who wish to receive, with the normal ceremonies of Mass.
When Communion is done, the priest purifies his fingers in the vessel set on the altar for the purpose; there being no chalice present, he does not perform an ablution as at Mass. The entire rite of the distribution is done almost exactly as a general communion outside Mass.
The Blessed Sacrament is returned to the tabernacle of the main altar. The Missal is then placed in the middle of the altar. The priest sings three new prayers, each one preceded by only, (without Dominus vobiscum, or Flectamus genua - Levate.), ending with the minor conclusion (per eundem Christum Dominum nostrum), keeping his hands closed. The deacon and subdeacon stand on either side of him, rather than in line behind him. The priest, with the major ministers descends from the altar; they and the minor ministers genuflect together before the altar, and return to sacristy. Afterwards, the Sanctissimum is brought to the sacristy or another tabernacle.
Copyright (C) Gregory DiPippo, 2009
(Part 5 will continue the consideration of Tenebrae. This will be followed by the Vigil.
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(My husband and Ihave been to Hawaii several dozen timeseach visit unfolded like another honeymoon).
Aloha all newlyweds and future brides and grooms heading to Hawaii for the big honeymoon celebration. No doubt you’ll love this tropical paradise with its swaying palms, sensational sunsets, verdant mountains, azure-colored seas and aloha spirit.
Like all Divas your Diva on the Go knows all the best places to go.
Great Beaches—The sugar coated sands of Kailua on the eastern shore of Oahu. “Airport” (which the locals named to protect their secret), Maui’s top swimming-snorkeling-sunning beach, snuggled along a sandy quarter-mile strip next to Kaanapali Resort. Lanai’s Hulopoe Beach where you can lose yourselves in a tranquil cove while watching pods of dolphins play in the surf. Any one of the contiguous tiny beaches on Kauai’s sunny southern shore at Poipu-Baby-Brenneke where gentle waves and soft sand sedate the senses. Hapuna Beach at the Hapuna Prince Hotel with its soft sands and crystal clear waters. Hamoa Beach at Hana Maui, “the most perfect crescent beach” according to author James Michener—reachable by a breathtakingly beautiful 2-½ hour drive to Hana Maui. Romantic DiningA romantic repast lovingly created super Island chef Gerard Reversade, at Gerard’s in the charming turn-of-the-century Plantation Inn in Maui. Choose a cozy table inside the intimate dimly lit dining room or outside under starry skies on an adorable patio set with white wicker tables and chairs. Your taste buds will tingle with every bite of dishes like Shiitake and Oyster mushrooms in a puff pastry, roast pork, filet mignon or fresh Island fish prepared to perfection and ooh la la, a chocolate mousse filled with profiteroles. 174 LaHainaluna Rd., LaHaina, Maui. 877-661-8939, (www.gerardsmaui.com). Dreamlike fantasy feasts served at a Kauai beach of your choice catered by Heavenly Creations (www.havenlycreations.org, 877-828-1700). You’ll feel like you just stepped of the set of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous while your personal attendant pours the wine, and serves an aphrodisiacal spread like pineapple shrimp kabobs, grilled fish or chicken with Macadamia nut sauce, filet mignon, Macadamia nut baked Brie, chocolate decadence and other savory dishes. Sensational Snorkeling—Head over to Black Rock at the end of Kaanapali Beach where colorful tropical fish swim straight up to your mask and nibble bread from your hands. On Maui go to Laperouse Bay; on the Big Island nothing beats Mauna Kea and Hapuna beaches’ crystal clear, lava-encrusted waters. Waikiki’s best snorkeling spot, San Souci Beach, across from Kapiolani Park, also known as “dig me” beach for the bikini-clad eye candy is also favored for the clear water and great view of nearby Diamond Head. Consuming ShoppingShop ‘til you drop at Ala Moana, Oahu’s prettiest and most illustrious mall. You have a choice of 200 shops and pricey boutiques like Chanel, Juicy Couture, DKNY, ESCADA etc., along with plenty of places to fuel up with everything from sushi to hot dogs. (ww.alamona.com). Pound the pavement along Maui’s famous Front Street. The place to go for funky stuff and souvenirs, this century-old street teems with adorable boutiques, jewelry shops, art galleries and souvenir shops (www.visitlahaina.com). For higher priced goods browse (that may be all you can do at those prices) The Shops at Wailea (Fendi, Gucci et al). But there’s also a Gap and Banana Republic and even an ABC Store for tighter budgets. (www.shopsatwailea.com). Marvelous Mai Tais—Enjoy Hawaii’s national cocktail under a towering Kiawe tree at the Halekulani Hotel’s enchanting House Without a Key seaside terrace fanned by balmy breezes and entertained by gentle hula dancers swaying to the rhythms of live musicians. The murderous Mai Tai is so potent you’re guaranteed to see that green flash as the sun hits the sea. Just one of these potent potables is guaranteed to motivate your mojos. To try it at home mix 1/3 Orgeat syrup; 1/3 orange Curacao; ½ rock candy syrup; ¾ Amber rum, ¾ dark rum; 1 ¼ lemon juice, ½ oz of lemon heart and ½ oz of Bacardi 151 (float). (www.Halekulani.com), (808-923-2311). Super Spas – Captivating, cozy, sensuously swank, the honeymoon-friendly, outrageously romantic Honua Spa at the Hotel Hana-Maui raises the bar for discerning couples who prefer solitude and personalized service. Tucked away in a lush, tropical paradise at the end of Hana Highway on the eastern coast of Maui the stylized sanctuary offers native treatments using spiritual local plants, minerals and waters that arouse the senses to new heights. (www.hotelhanamaui.com), 808-270-5290 or (email:spa@hotelhanamaui.com). Bliss out at the knock down gorgeous Spa at Four Seasons Hualalai on the Big Island with a romantic side-by-side Lomilomi massage in an open air thatched roof hut. (www.fourseasons.com/hualalai.com), (888-340-5662). Or at the Four Seasons’ fab facility in Maui with rapturous, mood-enhancement Hawaiiana treatments like a Wai Aulia—a floating massage performed on a cocoon bed, guaranteed to motivate your mojos. (www.fourseasons.com/maui), 808-874-8000 or 800-332-3442.
The Spa Moana at the Hyatt Regency Maui Resort And Spa, another pamper pleaser indulges couples with opulent body treatments that combine coffee, sugar, honey, seaweed, lavender, macadamia and kukui nut oils. Massage lessons are available in case you’d like to do each other. www.Maui.hyatt.com (808-661-1234, ext. 4500; (800-55-HYATT). Picture Postcard Pool—Aesthetically attractive, the oval-shaped Ryo Urano-designed mosaic pool at the Halekulani Hotel in Waikikithe most romantic man made swimming hole in the Islands with its colorful Hawaiian orchid, comprised of more than a million tiny tiles, painted on the bottom. The ocean side pool is so inviting that couples often spend countless hours just sitting on the side of the pool, arms tightly wrapped around each other or holding each other in the water. (www.halekulani.com) Cool Culinary Treat Shave Ice rules as the statewide delicacy. And get this, one of the best can be found at WF Washerette in Kahului, Maui (125 S. Wakea Avenue, 808- 877-0353). Order the pineapple, cherry or rainbow spiced with a scoop of Azuki beans and/or ice cream on the bottom of the cone. Yummy. Matsumoto’s in Haleiwa on Oahu’s North Shore is another local favorite serving scrumptious flavors such as mango, papaya and lemonade. Rad Rooms with a View—Any ocean front room or suite at the Four Seasons Maui at Wailea, especially those on the private Club Floorwhere on a clear day you can catch glimpses of the uninhabited island of Kahoolawe, the lush West Maui mountain range curved gracefully out into the sea and even ti8ny Molokini, Molokai and Lanai. (808-874-8000 or 800-332-3442, www.fourseasons.com/maui). Waterfront rooms at pretty Hapuna Prince with spectacular views of the Big Island’s rugged Kohala coastline and the sea. (800-882-6060) All beachfront accommodations at the Halekulani Hotel where visions of Diamond Head dancing off the blue Pacific are so magical you’ll never want to leave your lanai. (800-367-2343, www.halekulani.com). Fun Stuff— Feel the fireworks for real at an Aloha Friday’s King Jubilee celebration at Hilton Hawaiian Village. Showtime begins at sunset with a Village Guard Precision Rifle Drill followed by a poolside jubilee show and after an hour or so fabulous fireworks illuminate the star-filled Hawaiian sky. 800-HILTONS. (www.hiltonhawaiianvillage.com). Snowboarding (yes you read this correctly) over pu’us (volcanic cones) on magical Mauna Kea on the Big Island you can do two mile runs with 2500’ to 4500’ of vertical, coupled with a 360-degree panoramic view of Mauna Kea’s moonscape, the Pacific Ocean and Maui’s Haleakala. Polish off your snowboarding excursion with a dip in the warm surf at one of the many beaches below. (www.skihawaii.com, 808-885-4188).
Heavenly Hana Mauidrive to romantic road to heavenly Hanamiles of picture postcard vistas of waterfalls, verdant mountains, the blue Pacific smashing its waves against the rugged shoreline.
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A lot has happened in the two months I haven't posted. I thought about it, but never actually did. It's kinda funny considering that in the last entry I made before my hiatus I said I would try to update every day like i did durin the summer. As you can plainly see, I'm not a very reliable person when it comes to daily deadlines. Anyways, I'll go ahead and tell ya everything important that happened while Istopped posting. Let's just hope I remember everything.
SEPTEMBER 30
My 17th birthday! Woohoo! I didn't have a party or anything, but I did go to an Earth, Wind, and Fire concert with my uncle Spencer. My mom works security at the theater they were performing and and was able to get me a couple of tickets. It was all sorts of epic awesome!! If you don't know who Earth, Wind, and Fire are then you have no real taste in music and you should be ashamed of yourself. I love older music to be honest. I remember listening to their songs while riding in the car with my parents back whenI was younger. Man, did it bring back a feeling of nostalgia. I actually stood up and danced to some of their songs. For me, that's HUGE! I never dance in people, mostly due to lack of knowledge, introvertedness, and self-consciousness. I didn't know much of what i was doing and just copied what everyone around me was doing, but I still had loads of fun.
I really liked the other attendees, Unlike at concerts with newer bands or whose listeners are a lot younger and stuff, the older people there don't shout their heads off during the songs or flash the band or crazy nonsense like that, which pleased me greatly. And everyone there was so friendly!! The people sitting next to me and Uncle Spencer were really nice and would talk and chat with us and stuff! Hell, they're the reason I got up and danced (They kinda yanked me outta my seat).
Oh God, and the opening act was AMAZING! I wish I remembered who it was; all I remember is the lead singer's last name was McDonald. Anyways, they were phenomenal!! I mean, I knew they'd be great so they could get the crowd pumped up for the main attraction, but HOLY CRAP I didn't know they'd be that great!! They were so good, that if it was just them having a concert, I would go. They just blew me away.
OCTOBER 10-11
I recently joined a program at school called Producing Leaders of Tommorow, or PLOT for short. It doesn't officially start until later on this month, but this weekend they had a special camping trip/retreat for the first 20 people to register. I got mine in super early and was one of the first people registered. A lot of people from different schools were there, so Ifelt a little out of place, but my friend Chelsae was there too so Ifelt better. We rode in one of those really fancy buses with the tv moniters to watch movies, the cushiony seats, and a bathroom (Which was very unpleasant to use; I didn't mind the smell, but it's incredibly hard to move around in there when the bus keeps turning and knocking you all over the dang place).
The place we went to was called Camp Wamatochick (Try saying THAT five times fast) somewhere up in Prescott. Good God Almighty it was COOOLD!! It was between 60-40 degrees the whole weekend. To some people that's nothing butwhen you live somewhere where it almost NEVER reaches that low you freeze out there. It had really nice cabins, a cool fireplace, indoor plumbing, a nice kitchen... It was really cool. After everyone got their stuff off the bus we sat around the fireplace and introduced ourselves and stuff before taking our things to our cabins. The group of girls I was with got relocated from the cabin to an actual house (With bedrooms and a bathroom and kitchen and everything!), but I couldn't really enjoy it. It was an awesome upgrade from the cabin we were in, but there were a buncha spiders in it!! And they were BIG suckers! One was in the kitchen sink and the other was in the bedroom me and another girl were sleeping in. It was on the far corner of the room and never once moved from that spot all day. It did go into the other bedroom at night, though, and freaked them the hell out.
While we were there we went hiking, made arts and crafts, played archery, and did team building workshops. My personal favorite was one where everyone stood on one box and using a rope had to swing from our box to another box a few feet away without touching the ground. You had to get everyone across, then sing Row, row, row your boat If anyone fell off the box or touched the ground, everyone would have to start over. We musta had to start over at least six times before everyone got across. When it was my turn I was super scared. I wasn't sure I'd make it or something, but with enough encouragement I swung across (Screaming the entire way) and actually made it. It was scary, but really fun at the same time.
OCTOBER 13-16
This week was homecoming week at my school, so for spirit week our theme was Back to the Future
Monday was 50's day. I wore a loose black tee shirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue jeans with the bottoms rolled up and a pair of low tennies. I didn't have a poodle skirt or blouse Icould wear to that had to do. I was shocked at how many girls wore poodle skirts. Before that day, I wasn't sure any place still had them or anything.
Tuesday was 60's day so I dressed up as a hippie~! I had a sparkly flowery top with big butterflies on it, a brown vest, flowers in my hair, tight jeans and a pair of white backless Betula sandals. That day was so much fun!! My guyfriend Willie dressed up as a Black Panther. He wore all black and an army vest, and he had this giant sign that said No Vietnamese ever called me the 'N' word, which was a famous quote back them due to the stuff going on in the Vietnam War. They treated black people the same as everyone else and kinda liked them, yet back in their own country people treated them like crap and called them names. My friend Michael made fun of my bewbs. The vest I was wearing buttoned up, but I couldn't get the top button because I have so much boobage. Everytime I finally got it to button, it would pop back open. Everyone thought it was pretty funny.
Wednesday was 70's day and I dressed up as a late 70's... something. I dun't think there's a name for that style.My costume was really last minute because I didn't have ANY of the disco/punk clothes everyone wore. I was scrambling to get something put together that morning. Thanks to my mom, I was able to put together an outfit. Anyways, I wore a black shirt with a lot of the shoulders cut, a redtank top, a tight red skorts, leg warmers and white tennies. To be honest I felt kinda slutty that day because I'm not used to showing that much skin. My shoulders, legs, and arms were all just showing, and if it weren't for the fact that Ihave a kinda big chest I'm pretty sure my black shirt woulda fallen off. One of my old teachers dressed up in a light blue leisure suit. I wish Igot a picture of him; he woulda looked SO funny!
Wednesday was also the night of the Powderpuff Game. Basically the seniorgirls play flag football against the junior girls and the boys dress up as cheerleaders. A lot of them looked a little bit too comfortable in those cheerleading outfits. It made me sad I don't have a camera. I also missed the halftime show, which I had been dying to see. That sucked. Anyways, the seniors (Of course) won the game 16-8. The juniors were actually pretty hard! I mean, if you didn't stop them right away you'd never catch them. They were really good runners! My friend Lesilia was definitely the MVP of that game! She always caught the ball, she ripped flags off like no one's business, and she was a hell of a runner!! She made it look easy!
Thursday was 80's day. i dressed up as a prep. I wore a lavendar collared shirt, a sweater around my neck, and a pair of jeans. I felt like such a spoiled little rich girl. I lotta people wore ripped jeans, shirts with the sleeves torn off, mullets, and band shirts with 80's bands on them. It was a really cool day.
OCTOBER 17
Tonight was our homecoming game. I was really hoping we'd win; I even bought a hoecoming shirt! Unfortunately we lost. Miserably. The final score was 38-8. I was so upset. I want a refund for the shirt I bought! We just did terribly. The only really good thing about that night was the announcement of the Prom king and Queen. I forgot who they were, though. I just remember the winners weren't the people I voted for. We had a pep rally earlier that day that was really fun. I think it knocked a couple of points off my hearing though.
OCTOBER 25
I received an acceptance letter in the mail from Northern Arizona Unicersity! Woohoo for my first College acceptance letter!! Both me and my mom were super excited. I called all my friends and family to tell them! I still can't believe it! NAU is way up on Flagstaff somewhere; it's really cold up there! NAU is actually my second-choice college. My first choice is University of Arizona. They're already offering me free tuition and lots of financial aid, which is awesome considering how much college actually costs (About $20,000 a semester).
OCTOBER 31
HALLOWEEN~!! Woohoo!! Since Halloween was on Friday this year, the school said studen'ts weren't allowed to dress up, which sucks in my opinion. I dressed up anyways, though. I wore my schoolgirl outfit! It's not techinically a costume because it's all stuff I've worn to school before. I wore a white button-up blouse, beige and white polkadot skorts, knee socks and a pair of cute slip-on shoes. I even put my hair up in pigtails. i was so happy! My friends dressed up too! Eric was a vampire; he had some red makeup under his eyes and had caps put on his teeth that looked like fangs! He woulda wore his yellow contacts, but one of them is all scratched up. A lot of other people dressed up to. There was a girl dressed as minnie mouse (Black and white polkadot dress and mouse ears), a girl dressed as a catgirl, and asome mexican guy I don't know dressed as a dude in a mariachi band.
Unfortunately, everything after that sucked. I had no plans for Halloween! None of my friends were doing anything! Willie was playing in a football game, Nancy and Monica refused to tell me what they were doing, Sarah was passing out candy, Kelsey was going to a football game, Casey was hanging out with her boyfriend, Becky doesn't celebrate Halloween, Eric was going to Fear Farm (As big a coward I am, I couldn't go. I'd have nightmares). I even called too late to go to the church function my church was having!! This was the first time I ever spent Halloween at home, and I didn't like it one bit. I passed out candy for a little while, but then got really bored. I chatted on the computer for a little bit, then I went with my mom and Uncle to JB's for all-you-can-eat shrimp. After we were done eating my uncle took me to the bookstore and we stayed till closing.
NOVEMBER 1
I had to retake the SAT test since I missed my chance last time. This time I made sure I had my admission ticket and everything, but I forgot my picture ID. Luckily I was able to call my mom so she could bring it and they let me start the test. I think i did pretty well on the reading and writing, but I probably tanked on the math section. there was so much stuff I had forgotten how to do and stuff I'd never seen before!! Of the three math sections I had to do, I didn't finish two of them and most of my answers were complete guesses! I left feeling incredibly grumpy and frustrated. I really hope I passed. That test is pricey and I don't want to have to retake it. Once sucked enough.
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Kenya / Swiftly Enact Special Tribunal / International Criminal Court Should Be a Last Resort for Justice
NAIROBI, Kenya, March 25, 2009/African Press Organization (APO)/ The Kenyan government should urgently renew efforts to revise and enact bills to create a special tribunal to try those responsible for last years election violence, Human Rights Watch said today. The organization also issued a memo explaining the procedures of the International Criminal Court in relation to the special tribunal.
The Commission to Investigate the Post-Election Violence had set a deadline of January 30, 2009, to pass legislation to establish the tribunal, with Kenyan and international judges. But on February 12, parliament voted against a constitutional amendment, the first of two bills that would have established the tribunal. On February 24, Kofi Annan, chairman of the Panel of Eminent African Personalities and the broker of the original agreement that ended the violence, granted the government more time to reintroduce the measures.
The special tribunal is the best option for justice for the victims of last years election violence, said Kenneth Roth, executive director of Human Rights Watch. If the tribunal is manipulated by the government, then the threat of the ICC remains, but it should be a last resort, not the first port of call.
Human Rights Watch called on the Kenyan government to amend the flaws in the draft legislation and take steps to win public support for the bill before reintroducing it in parliament. Among other steps, Human Rights Watch urged that:
· The government of Kenya consult with civil society and legal experts to address criticisms of the existing draft bills for the special tribunal and constitutional amendment. In particular, the bills need to ensure that the tribunal judges are completely independent and that no one is immune from justice under its jurisdiction.
· The United Nations and African Union offer technical assistance to the Kenyan government to redraft the bills.
· Parliament involve itself in early consultations to guarantee that members concerns are addressed before the bills are reintroduced.
· The government complete the revisions and reintroduce the bills as soon as possible.
· Foreign governments reiterate that the special tribunal is the key test of the commitment of the coalition government and the 10th parliament to the accord brokered by Kofi Annan, the former United Nations secretary-general, to end the violence and pave the way for the power-sharing agreement. Foreign governments should also provide all necessary legal and financial assistance to the tribunal.
· Kenyan authorities ensure that there is coordination between the special tribunal and the Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission.
· The Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court continue its monitoring and analysis of the process.
Kenya has a responsibility under international law to bring those responsible for crimes against humanity and other international crimes to justice regardless of whether parliament establishes the special tribunal. Establishment of a special tribunal with international participation would be an important first step in improving the capacity of the Kenyan judicial system. Furthermore, trials in Kenya of those most responsible for post-election violence will make such proceedings fully accessible to Kenyans and will show that Kenya can bring its criminals to justice.
The International Criminal Court retains jurisdiction at all times, and if at any point the Kenyan government proves unwilling or unable to administer justice, the ICC will have the right to step in to prosecute the main suspects.
Kenya cannot simply choose to abdicate its responsibility as a state and fail to prosecute those who caused death and destruction last year, said Roth. If there is no national accountability process, a few chief suspects might end up in The Hague, but allowing the others to escape justice will only encourage more violence next time.
Background
Following the violence set off by the controversial 2007 presidential elections, the Kenya National Dialogue and Reconciliation Committee, led by Kofi Annan, agreed to set up the Commission to Investigate the Post-Election Violence (the Waki commission), an Independent Review Committee to look at the flaws in the election (the Kriegler committee), and a Truth, Justice and Reconciliation Commission to help heal historical grievances dating from before the 2007 general elections.
The Waki commission recommended wide-ranging reforms of the police as well as the creation of a special tribunal for Kenya, independent of the judiciary, anchored in a constitutional amendment and staffed by both Kenyan and international judges and prosecutors. Justice Philip Waki, who headed the commission, set out a clear timetable for the establishment of the tribunal and handed a sealed envelope containing names of suspects to Annan for forwarding to the International Criminal Court, should the government fail to set up the tribunal in time, fail to meet his standards of independence, or subsequently subvert the process in any way.
Annan has delayed twice in sending the envelope to the ICC to give the government an opportunity to establish the tribunal. There is no constitutional impediment to re-introducing the bills and setting up the tribunal as soon as possible.
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