tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16530232372028219982024-03-28T08:23:39.847-07:00Read It! (For Those of Us That Are Avid Readers)This is the chronicling of the many books that have been read and the opinions given in which they were read.Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-32060931313749402492024-03-01T06:30:00.000-08:002024-03-11T14:21:34.612-07:00Dying Of Politeness<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3STbnSLpdHIybCTIolOQPr8fYvCfhNQHg2PNOiQp_POe34vwc8NvIlIiGlvtzL0v9aLYrCWMlwkgHv2duwOG2rVuXslk4kIZiyHEpT5YyXcQd3ln0RHFtJSynwFCTqYvapf7Bs6408RWq7u85mpgOe8tRDI_o8bC4yGWzzebieK_D5VDIiPpXJOYB6stM/s1000/81u8JQ7NdiL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="661" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3STbnSLpdHIybCTIolOQPr8fYvCfhNQHg2PNOiQp_POe34vwc8NvIlIiGlvtzL0v9aLYrCWMlwkgHv2duwOG2rVuXslk4kIZiyHEpT5YyXcQd3ln0RHFtJSynwFCTqYvapf7Bs6408RWq7u85mpgOe8tRDI_o8bC4yGWzzebieK_D5VDIiPpXJOYB6stM/w265-h400/81u8JQ7NdiL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>This next book was written from a 2x Academy Award winner and a screen <u style="font-weight: bold;">ICON</u>. From a proper and polite upbringing to becoming a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TOTAL</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">BAD</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ASS</u>. Becoming a molding <u style="font-weight: bold;">pioneer</u> in, not just <u>equal</u> opportunities of the sexes, this <u style="font-weight: bold;">POWERHOUSE</u> defied rebellion. Thus, here is the <b><u>TRUE</u></b> story of the one & <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARY</u>, Virginia (<i>Geena</i>) Elizabeth Davis. <p></p><p>Geena has <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> been an ass-kicker on-screen <u>long</u> <u>before</u> she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> in <u>REAL</u> life. The roles she's played have taken her down paths she <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> dreamed when pursuing acting. They helped transform her, slowly, in fits and starts, into someone with <u>power</u>. For what Geena put into her roles, she's taken away <u>far</u> <u>more</u>. Acting has changed Geena <u>every</u> <u>single</u> <u>time</u> she's had the <u>great</u> fortune to do it. Some films in roles inspired others around her. While life on-screen was <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u> different, <u>that</u> boldness in her characters eventually rubbed off on her, and <u><b>made</b></u> Geena a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u> badass. Growing up a crippling polite New Englander was <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tall</u> to hide. Politeness was bequeathed upon her at an early age. </p><p>Politeness was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> <u>stressed</u> upon Geena that it became <u style="font-weight: bold;">debilitating</u>. The <u>BIG</u> task of her life is to close the gap between when something happens to her v. when Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">authentically</u> reacts to it. Miraculously, the roles she's played have transformed her into someone whom could stand-up for herself - she knows what's <u>right</u> for the moment. It wasn't until Geena played Thelma (<i>Dickenson</i>) that she <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> she may have wanted to become an actor <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fervently</u> because she could use acting to fill out the <u>persona</u> of someone <u style="font-weight: bold;">confident</u> in their abilities. Someone Geena could be in <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> life. What people perceive <u>eventually</u> rubs off on you. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRRhDvru9TK5hkC3CEIIkMzsQ5IXpdmPLINDy4Xp3yg3_tVSZiXbnO0EhOB-PZzq8qLsTF0LSpKYmPJ7TW3El69070O3w7BJoaMKFy9ADMjdNxxNpt8R3d6k0XFfyK_WIrwy6qMy6t79Lb79ZqkQsMZm3tEpAgK8DOyDtk0CH2uMtO_wW4iS2to_4Tw9l/s200/impact-zone-training-center-logo.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="200" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRRhDvru9TK5hkC3CEIIkMzsQ5IXpdmPLINDy4Xp3yg3_tVSZiXbnO0EhOB-PZzq8qLsTF0LSpKYmPJ7TW3El69070O3w7BJoaMKFy9ADMjdNxxNpt8R3d6k0XFfyK_WIrwy6qMy6t79Lb79ZqkQsMZm3tEpAgK8DOyDtk0CH2uMtO_wW4iS2to_4Tw9l/s1600/impact-zone-training-center-logo.png" width="200" /></a></div>Before <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u>, Geena felt plagued by the <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u> currents of self-effacing coursing through her, so she decided to take a self-defense class with <u style="font-style: italic;">Impact</u>. Geena couldn't manage to say "Stop!" in time during this class. <p></p><div>By the time Geena reached 40s, she'd become a middle-aged data geek and had her own institute on gender in the media - and became a mom. Geena had her children later in life. It was wonderful. It brought her <u>whole</u> self full circle. Geena could show them what <u style="font-weight: bold;">strength</u> was despite their sex. See men & women as <u>equals</u>. Our culture will <u>finally</u> be able to recognize the <u><b>unconscious</b></u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>bias in all of us if we keep pointing it out. Pretty much as Geena learned that people had jobs, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> what she wanted to do with her life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hailing from Wareham, Massachusetts, Geena's parents <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> their daughter was going to be in the movies. Throughout her childhood, Geena maintained this sort of <u style="font-weight: bold;">unshakable</u> faith that she was <u>destined</u> to become an actor. She began training for her career early. Mimically and learning what she saw in soap operas. Despite their homespun ways, when Geena told her parents of her future plans to major in acting in college; they took it in stride. Of course, this news was <u>not</u> new. They knew what their daughter was from the <u>beginning</u>. Geena's birth certificate reads, "<i>Virginia Elizabeth</i>", but on the way from the hospital after she was born, Geena's mom, Lucille, asked her son, Geena's brother, what a nickname should be. Virginia was named after her mom's sister, whom went by "<i>Ginny</i>". Geena's brother shortened it to "<i>Geena</i>" and their mom liked it <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> she wished she had thought of it before sticking to Virginia. It was always funny that her mom didn't know the <u>correct</u> spelling.</div><div><br /></div><div>The family of 4 lived with a wood stove for heating, kerosene lanterns <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> ready, and bathing resumed on Saturday nights. (<i>They had no shower.</i>) Brother & sister had to take turns on who went first; there was only <u>one</u> bath drawn to <u>save</u> water, being second was always <i>creepy</i>. Their mother grew all of their food - <u>all</u> <u>of</u> <u>it</u> - from A-to-Z in a 1-acre garden. It was a very <u style="font-style: italic;">Little House On The Prairie</u> upbringing without the pinafores and dresses. Geena's skill at being no trouble kicked in early. At times when Kids are <u>normally</u> loud; Geena was <u>quiet</u> without a peep. <u>Maintaining</u> decorum and invisibility. Being invisible while being visible as possible; assertive yet modest; loud but shy. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u> New England way of life. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85OASu8VWZn-zAmNoCa8hwgv4fPQ9KmiFbx6LDvzA3ZNEyEHxSix8pxnEkojA7aV70OwzZae5hdL_3XkjJ_JuIxmetbgf5864VIhErO64bvJX-t40iTBJEfZXnm6KkIMZDzFfYFAkDuypHxZD4jvYEZn4oy-mEGy1w510cuIAlq1-AadP0bBQROwSGYys/s325/images.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85OASu8VWZn-zAmNoCa8hwgv4fPQ9KmiFbx6LDvzA3ZNEyEHxSix8pxnEkojA7aV70OwzZae5hdL_3XkjJ_JuIxmetbgf5864VIhErO64bvJX-t40iTBJEfZXnm6KkIMZDzFfYFAkDuypHxZD4jvYEZn4oy-mEGy1w510cuIAlq1-AadP0bBQROwSGYys/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geena & Dan</td></tr></tbody></table>After Dan & Geena, their parents had another son, Joel, whom was stillborn. Brother & sister were somehow kept <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> in the dark, and didn't find out about him until their mom died, their father wanted to bury Joel with her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredibly</u> shy & quiet as a kid, but even so, her <u>rare</u> bursts of enthusiasm always seemed to cause people to go <u>out</u> <u>of</u> <u>their</u> way to tone Geena the fuck down. The moment Geena wanted change, she did something <u>unselfconsciously</u>, there'd be a price to pay. She had <b><u>always</u></b> been tall. Geena was a tall baby. Being tall felt like a curse for Geena in her childhood. She spent an inordinate amount of time staring into the bathroom sink questioning her identity. Geena was also fixated on the beautification of her and attractiveness in her face.</div><div><br /></div><div>Geena's father had her do things with him from a <u>very</u> young age. If her father was working in his profession;; so was Geena. As a result, Geena grew up <u>believing</u> she could do <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANYTHING</u>, and apparently, so could her father. What Geena's mother couldn't stomach; her dad <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> Geena was made of <u style="font-weight: bold;">sterner</u> material. If <u>anyone</u> could do <u>anything</u>; their baby girl could <u style="font-weight: bold;">DO</u> anything. With Geena having a brother and other boys in the neighborhood, she wanted to join along. So, in her 4TH Christmas, Geena asked for a toy gun. Her parents had <u>no</u> <u>idea</u> what her request meant. So, on Christmas morning, Geena received a $5 bill from Santa tucked in a card for a toy <u>of</u> <u>her</u> <u>choice</u>. Geena burst into tears. She identified her father's handwriting and it <b><u>broke</u> <u>her</u> <u>young</u></b> heart. At the young age of 4, Geena was <u>already</u> able to <u>identify</u> her father's handwriting. Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> facts on the majestics of Christmas. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">demanded</u> answers. But, she <u>inevitably</u> bought herself that toy gun.</div><div><br /></div><div>Geena states that she had a wild imagination congruent to a <u>fairly</u> exhausting childhood. To monsters under her bed, to <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u> of being poisoned. Taking <u>extra</u> precautions. . .at the annoyance of her mother. Geena had such a phobia of being poisoned. Along with these torments of the mind was a case of hypochondria. If she <u>heard</u> of something. . . .Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">sure</u> she had it. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">fervently</u> worshiped her mother. But, her mom's viewing the world was probably a major factor in how <u style="font-weight: bold;">she</u>/<i>Geena</i> viewed the world. When she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> old enough to stay home alone whilst her folk's went elsewhere, Geena's mother would try to convince her to come along by bringing up what would happen . . . <i>the shoulda, coulda, woulda's</i>. For all of Geena's childhood, she didn't have <u>any</u> privacy at home. The bathroom door had no lock; therein leaving her bedroom door open so that Geena could be heard if she had a nightmare. Keeping doors open as a way to keep tabs on Geena - even as a teenager.</div><div><br /></div><div>When it comes to <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> talking about what is either embarrassing or brings out emotions, New Englanders are gold medalists. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">do</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> discuss <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. There was also an <u style="font-weight: bold;">unspoken</u> rule to <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> discuss bodily functions. . .<u>especially</u> anything to do with sex or reproductive organs. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">naive</u> that she was tripping over non-existent land mines within the family. One of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">mortifying</u> things to ever happen to Geena was reading from <u style="font-style: italic;">Reader's Digest</u>. What Geena read in the articles was <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolute</u> gospel. At times, what Geena read would fly from imagination. Letting her imagination run wild overthinking. As it was, Geena didn't receive her "<i>special visitor</i>" until her 16TH year. When she saw the <span style="color: red;">blood</span>, she truly thought she was dying.. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sure</u>. What Geena had <u>previously</u> feared in her life keeping her busy. . . Someone in her <u><b>real</b></u> life was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> monster. Geena had <b><u>NO</u> <u>IDEA</u></b> whom it would be.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_2JF_dLE7Y3NEivprum0UaBl1GGvYSMbBdUX9FxPElM5TZeVKncu_2NjGYIwHrBLGoRUeZYJXyqbr6z-Ix-dioHNxZNyZr1f9j59INKV10ICPNrPJStP5KMGlhC0EzR7zxNM2P_CnFFRrx9qT2Ukofn7fUMc6Xc9rwMgTciGr4Erb1dgUdpJaNnDTb0C/s404/d3096315a88048aadeab06f8b12ebf87.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW_2JF_dLE7Y3NEivprum0UaBl1GGvYSMbBdUX9FxPElM5TZeVKncu_2NjGYIwHrBLGoRUeZYJXyqbr6z-Ix-dioHNxZNyZr1f9j59INKV10ICPNrPJStP5KMGlhC0EzR7zxNM2P_CnFFRrx9qT2Ukofn7fUMc6Xc9rwMgTciGr4Erb1dgUdpJaNnDTb0C/s320/d3096315a88048aadeab06f8b12ebf87.jpg" width="317" /></a></div>When Geena was 14, she got a job babysitting for the neighbors 2 doors down. They enjoyed Geena so much they invited her to go to their church one evening. The Congregational Church Geena grew up in was the very traditional, old-school kind of Protestant Church, but the one they took Geena to was <u style="font-weight: bold;">positively</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>Pentecostal. In grade school, Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">used</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> getting straight A's without trying. The <u>only</u> B that Geena ever got was in 2ND grade, for effort. But, life began to change when Geena entered junior high. </div><div><br /></div><div>Suddenly, there were papers to write that would take <u>several</u> days, tests that <u style="font-weight: bold;">required</u> more than one night's study. Things got <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> <u>fast</u>: Geena was put on the <u style="font-style: italic;">National Honor Society</u>, but that became a huge source of stress: That meant keeping grades up to snuff; which weighed <u style="font-weight: bold;">heavily</u>. If not, there was a warning. . .then <u>ultimately</u> dropped from the program. Geena would inevitably self-sabotage herself and be unable to finish a report or study for a bug test, and then have a single semester to claw her way back up. If not, therein exited her out of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Honor Society</u>, which would've been devastating for a teenage Geena. Her mom was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> there for her daughter. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> what her daughter <u>needed</u> when appropriated. And then, there were times when playing with her friends came a good (<i>breaking</i>) relaxing balance. Any characters they played as a group, they chose the <u style="font-weight: bold;">toughest</u> characters on TV at the time. </div><div><br /></div><div>By the time Geena was in high school, she was <b><u>keenly</u> </b>aware of being <u>too</u> much: (<i>too tall. too odd</i>). Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> she was going to be an actor - that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> in question. There were times when Geena toyed with the idea of becoming a holiday gift wrapper. While family shopping one day, Geena was in <u>absolute</u> <u>awe</u> at the store's artful skill. She <u>physically</u> craved for that job, but her fixation <u>wore</u> <u>off</u> after one holiday year and Geena went back to her regular star <u>goal</u>. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to get out and find a <u>new</u> identity. Geena's older brother, 2 yrs-older than her, was <u style="font-weight: bold;">mercilessly</u> bullied in school <u style="font-weight: bold;">daily</u> with thanks to an <u>un</u>diagnosed case of dyslexia, <i>unknown to the world at the time</i>, that Dan <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> deserve, or understand. But, for Dan's junior year, he transferred to <u style="font-style: italic;">Bristol County Agriculture</u>: which did <u style="font-weight: bold;">remarkable</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wonders</u> for Geena's brother. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PrqnILtcoTtyvMHbocKtikfisN55nfeY_ECeHbYU8vPdsvUut8XmJ-ATh0SXKH7-AOW1iqhrRWlX-K71pSms8xH5RkJpOqBHxb2hT19jDkj5x6u4z9NHfwa-YQK71xFdcFqRWxLg1u6uSh-dFIigZW0OxFMnpqilRc_uzGBHGYijoAGQRGcTxEYUg4zw/s1148/bbivpr-wareham-hs-topleft-logo.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="1148" height="78" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1PrqnILtcoTtyvMHbocKtikfisN55nfeY_ECeHbYU8vPdsvUut8XmJ-ATh0SXKH7-AOW1iqhrRWlX-K71pSms8xH5RkJpOqBHxb2hT19jDkj5x6u4z9NHfwa-YQK71xFdcFqRWxLg1u6uSh-dFIigZW0OxFMnpqilRc_uzGBHGYijoAGQRGcTxEYUg4zw/s320/bbivpr-wareham-hs-topleft-logo.png" width="320" /></a></div>Toward the end of Geena's junior year, <u style="font-style: italic;">Wareham High</u> announced it was partnering with a foreign exchange student program. Geena was the <u>only</u> one to ask for an application. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to go. It was a way to have a chance to try on a different way of life just as Dan did. Her parents <u>promised</u> to find the means to fund the trip. Signing Geena up to spend her <u>entire</u> senior year abroad, and she <u>eagerly</u> looked forward to what country to choose. The <u>only</u> slot available was with a family. . .in Sweden. It turned out Geena <u>didn't</u> <u>give</u> Sweden <u>an</u> <u>ounce</u> of attention. 4,000 miles away. For a year. A few weeks before she was to leave, some of Geena's girlfriends from the track team and her went to a beach near <u style="font-style: italic;">Massachusetts Maritime Academy</u> for a farewell picnic. Geena always fit in with the track squad. But, the girls basketball team <u style="font-weight: bold;">begged</u> her to join. She <u>politely</u> declined due to <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> knowing how to play <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>. She fit in with basketball . . . but, <u>shined</u> in track. In late August 1973, Geena, with her senior year about to begin on another continent, was taken to <u style="font-style: italic;">Logan Airport</u> in Boston for the foreign exchange program.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was a colossal shock - though, of course, it <u>shouldn't</u> have been. Even in a boggled state, Geena <u>knew</u> she'd survive. Maybe even flourish. As she waved farewell to her parents, they were speeding down the runway on their way to London, where Geena would change plans heading north to Stockholm. In Stockholm, a woman working for the exchange program met Geena at the plane and took her <u>straight</u> to the central train station. Geena had a <u>million</u> questions. What Geena would learn on her Sweden trip, it delivered on the fantasy. It gave Geena the opportunity to re-invent herself; to become the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> Geena. Being able to think in a different language also changed Geena's neutral pathways and re-defining whom Geena is as a person.</div><div><br /></div><div>The other thing Geena <u>looked</u> <u>forward</u> to were her girlfriends. Being 18, Geena needed her girlfriends time and soap opera catch-ups. Although travelling far, those in the soaps were just as interesting as her home-based friendships. Once at home, it was catching up abound that resided in a trip with friends along with Geena's brother. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bO2vBzqcQdG7zC2T0iQz1luBQ6uiOoyW4JpmZB20sOiQSuVP5CqGMjfotkFitegchgInPjAKQyOL-rGUDLDLF39bTN16gUQS2b_shNJqCpuJlbJwywT_nYbFa2mcD54bnz2FA49VirYNIlx-zChxghIjUEUgRUaeAbN0A5XVF7nn8QpxCt_tl55OGisT/s1280/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bO2vBzqcQdG7zC2T0iQz1luBQ6uiOoyW4JpmZB20sOiQSuVP5CqGMjfotkFitegchgInPjAKQyOL-rGUDLDLF39bTN16gUQS2b_shNJqCpuJlbJwywT_nYbFa2mcD54bnz2FA49VirYNIlx-zChxghIjUEUgRUaeAbN0A5XVF7nn8QpxCt_tl55OGisT/s320/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Geena once read an article in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Reader's Digest</u> when she was 12 entitled "<i><u>Why Feminists Are Ruining The World</u></i>". Before this, she had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> heard of feminism. But, this article <u>convinced</u> her that <i>scary</i> feminism was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> going to be one of them. <u>HA</u>! Feminism in the 60s in ushered in on <u>interesting</u> phenomenon with characters like <u style="font-style: italic;">Jeanie</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">Samantha Stevens</u>. Geena watched them <u style="font-weight: bold;">religiously</u>. Female characters with special abilities signaled a lighthearted nod to the women's movement. But, in hindsight, it was patriarchy holding the reins of female <u>freedom</u>. Therein, mentally holding their powers hostage. As Geena readied herself for college, she was dismayed at the ideaology of her relative's opinons on education for young women. Being told that college for women was <u>pointless</u>. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> in hell anyone else could talk Geena out of a college education. </div><div><br /></div><div>Geena's <u>first</u> day at <u style="font-style: italic;">Boston University</u> was a rouh one with a small theater. The professor <u>rudely</u> laid out the odds for success. Geena was <u>floored</u> at the odds in his equation. This was the 2ND time Geena was a college freshman. Being out of the country in Sweden meant missing the <u>required</u> try out <u style="font-style: italic;">B.U</u>. acting program. A year earlier, Geena was at <u style="font-style: italic;">New England College</u> in New Hampshire. The first time Geena ever smoked pot was in the company of her brother, whom was also a freshman. A memory Geena holds <u>dearly</u>. Someone handed them a joint, and they basked in the enjoyment. Fear of appearing uncool didn't seem to stop them from continuing. Geena's experiments had her brother in tow. <u>But</u>, she knew New Hampshire would be a one-year layover, though <u style="font-style: italic;">B.U</u>. would be <u>destiny</u>. As a kid, Geena didn't advertise her plans to become an actor. She kept it on the downlow, although in her yearbook, it was listed under <u style="font-style: italic;">Future Plans</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPjVjItkAYdegC5ChDq3Xhe_PPPzNpG2LdXwlitV41xs0alYqRP9SHCzr9iL9jHHzhLf89y9DTvnmVKVp3G8-tgSIXGQGquiJuQr7RfIV3Hr6spLAIf8VhcZfxjkUKgcA3D_-YyfkZf1581wATefkiCpv1BLjNdruhd_5xTnRXJWbs0uCSw7kf3aE5Wx8/s275/download%20(1).jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPjVjItkAYdegC5ChDq3Xhe_PPPzNpG2LdXwlitV41xs0alYqRP9SHCzr9iL9jHHzhLf89y9DTvnmVKVp3G8-tgSIXGQGquiJuQr7RfIV3Hr6spLAIf8VhcZfxjkUKgcA3D_-YyfkZf1581wATefkiCpv1BLjNdruhd_5xTnRXJWbs0uCSw7kf3aE5Wx8/s1600/download%20(1).jpeg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><u><i>Knickerbocker Holiday</i></u></td></tr></tbody></table>Freshman were <u>inelligible</u> to be in school plays if you hadn't mastered the training yet. The first eligibility for Geena was being cast in a small part in the musical <u style="font-style: italic;">Knickerbocker Holiday</u>. When the plays for Geena's last semester were announced. . . there were <u>only</u> <u>2</u> characters. <u>Everyone</u> felt robbed. Some intended to protest. Until Geena was cast in 1 of the 2 roles. When she was a student, the theater department didn't offer <u>any</u> advice for <u>successful</u> work post-<u style="font-style: italic;">B.U</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> told Geena if she wanted to be in film, she needed to be in L.A. <u>not</u> in New York. As a result, Geena worked out her own genius plan to get where she needed to go: Step One - modeling. From there, the roles would come. It has happened before. The <u>best</u> place to start was becoming a model in New York City. When school was over, Geena went to Manhattan with other hell-bent classmates.</div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vf1dSK-Ust-l7zLGy2rsNPAQoBzq1GVh4l2erPEJ3v5xYc_klClo5FIBfVoEBWmMq6I0X2hDcKb9bRPorXrl_yLIGPKF6cpIoVt9F9x1pRfAmS9oLQdOKehXJlxziLhLPV7d5F_8u9r8z9JolfLfUcnwRcELGXaAk2r6j3f8GmaR1fsf5s5dJS7nPdoZ/s2650/Our-Lady-of-Fat..png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2650" data-original-width="2330" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vf1dSK-Ust-l7zLGy2rsNPAQoBzq1GVh4l2erPEJ3v5xYc_klClo5FIBfVoEBWmMq6I0X2hDcKb9bRPorXrl_yLIGPKF6cpIoVt9F9x1pRfAmS9oLQdOKehXJlxziLhLPV7d5F_8u9r8z9JolfLfUcnwRcELGXaAk2r6j3f8GmaR1fsf5s5dJS7nPdoZ/w176-h200/Our-Lady-of-Fat..png" width="176" /></a></div>Lady Fatima's Town House For Young Ladies</u> was where Geena first resided after arriving in New York in 1978. Fresh out of college and having been forced by a professor to <u>lose</u> her <u>natural</u> accent, Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">than</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> to begin a <u>new</u> chapter in her life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">DAMN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NEAR</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DETERMINED</u> to make it in New York City, because if she did, she could make it <u>ANYWHERE</u>! It was up to her. On her very first full day in the city, Geena dressed to the 9's and hit the streets. hoping to land a salesgirl position while figuring out how to be a model. There was a <u>brief</u> time in the early 1980s when Geena had gotten a job as a salesperson that first day in New York. A secure job felt sophisticated and fun, and Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">DRESSED</u> for it. When Geena was there, she found out she had an uncanny ability for motionlessness. A crowd began to form. When she finally moved/blinked, everyone got the deal and cheered. At which point, Geena froze again. After a while, the noise brought a horrified management over. At first, Geena was scolded but the outlook gave them pause. Geena was then instructed to <u>stay</u> in the window display. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was more fun than organizing a display. So, Geena kept up at it. This masquerade was a <b><u>HIT</u>!</b> After that, the manager hired Geena to be a fake mannequin in the window every Saturday. The large crowds increased foot traffic in the <u>actual</u> store. Geena was having a <u>great</u> time while refining her technique. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> to look as much like the other mannequins as <u>possible</u>. Doing what she needed to do for the position at hand. Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">immensely</u> enjoyed it when people <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u> thought it was a fake. The window wasn't the only thing about the store. <u>Generous</u> employee discounts. With on-sale items, Geena could afford to buy designer clothes. She felt like an actor in a movie montage scene with a life ahead of them. One day, the <u style="font-weight: bold;">actual</u> C.E.O. of <i><u>Ann Taylor</u></i> came in and the manager introduced Geena as an example for the employees at their flagship store. She had the image of an <u style="font-style: italic;">Ann Taylor</u> girl. Geena jumped on the opportunity it presented. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJp4_IGFB6qFwI1-Ba3Qd7btqn4X3QJmiLoO9SuwySdIbqVLrP-cear06QZc4hpBYIrXRtdd-PEfynJPoHDFGFvsTSSw93KtoMazKhLtYGtAbX1mtX0j5CtkaeDQyIDXE_vSs7xdII2lPFTwIRKqlCCs1-sbTyLymcJ12XLaCJ9btvpCtTR5imjD5rM0QM/s7000/Sears-Logo-History.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="7000" data-original-width="3840" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJp4_IGFB6qFwI1-Ba3Qd7btqn4X3QJmiLoO9SuwySdIbqVLrP-cear06QZc4hpBYIrXRtdd-PEfynJPoHDFGFvsTSSw93KtoMazKhLtYGtAbX1mtX0j5CtkaeDQyIDXE_vSs7xdII2lPFTwIRKqlCCs1-sbTyLymcJ12XLaCJ9btvpCtTR5imjD5rM0QM/w220-h400/Sears-Logo-History.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>As a pre-teen, Geena would pour over the <u style="font-style: italic;">Sears</u> catalog that was mailed to their home. She once wrote to <u style="font-style: italic;">Sears</u>, asking to be in their catalog. Geena was unable to do it due to their photos being taken in New York, in the <u>presence</u> of CEO <u style="font-style: italic;">Ann Taylor</u>, CEO. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> taken aback. It didn't work out for Geena; but she tried. On a particular Monday, Geena was straightening racks in <u style="font-style: italic;">Ann Taylor</u> when a handsome writer whom brought her lunch in the window called out to her. Asking her for a coffee in a thick Brooklyn accent. Geena froze. She didn't know him at all. She had never been asked out by someone Geena had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <u>officially</u> met. He was an Italian-American waiter from Brooklyn. Geena found him to be <u style="font-style: italic;">so</u> exotic. He was very mature for being 10 years older. Geena was <u>incredibly</u> self-conscious around this man, Richard Emmolo, in the beginning due to his sophistication and worldliness. </div><div><br /></div><div>From the start, Richard was so solicitous of Geena. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u> of her in a way as a partner. Geena got a 2ND job as a cocktail waitress in <u style="font-style: italic;">SoHo</u>; so she walked back home at 2A. Neither of them made much money; but they still had weekly nights out with a nice bottle of wine and all the courses. Even though Geena stressed about bringing Richard to <u style="font-style: italic;">Wareham</u>, he fell in love with her parents right away. Richard reminded them of a throwback to another country. He began calling Geena his <u style="font-style: italic;">Yankee Doodle Sweetheart</u> after what he seen what her parents were like. Geena's mother was <b><u>very</u></b> <b><u>interested</u> </b>in her daughter's career and was worried about anything that might derail that. Whenever Geena visited her parents with Richard, and made eye rolls and side glances at Richard's vocabulary.</div><div><br /></div><div>Geena states to find a partner who <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u> wince at habits others might turn a sore eye to. Once a week on Sundays, Geena would check in with her parents when the phone rates were the <u>cheapest</u>. She kept them in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u> from living with someone (<i>Richard</i>). Every time Geena answered, she pretended she was still <u style="font-style: italic;">Lady Fatima</u>. They <u>knew</u> their daughter had a rumor. . .but wondered why they <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <u>seen</u>/saw her. Her mother was somewhat <u>desperate</u> to hear from this "<i>roommate</i>". <u>Clearly</u> like any mom, Geena's <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> something didn't sound right/true. So, her mom made pop-up calls. But, Geena <u>stuck</u> to her story.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDEUK1B3jdxkYFKL-NoHOZ7J-CTelKfgG3liV0FNEiuAjJn-ADNE40HS1i4BwFyVPGKs8DWn4zETsM7XJR67Lo29coDl-gg13b5W0PTsqO6WS9xbVtQAAnDymYjt_J1CZa1ohRgcQkbOH2B52kyKkLb5BCi3lkkCmt2EnZZzJXNthGG5J7abUPkyavSno/s300/mhdnvsqjjow2vdsn.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="230" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDEUK1B3jdxkYFKL-NoHOZ7J-CTelKfgG3liV0FNEiuAjJn-ADNE40HS1i4BwFyVPGKs8DWn4zETsM7XJR67Lo29coDl-gg13b5W0PTsqO6WS9xbVtQAAnDymYjt_J1CZa1ohRgcQkbOH2B52kyKkLb5BCi3lkkCmt2EnZZzJXNthGG5J7abUPkyavSno/s1600/mhdnvsqjjow2vdsn.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geena & Richard</td></tr></tbody></table>Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">dreaded</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>every Sunday due to feeling like her lies to her parents began to catch-on. From there, her body began reacting from the <u style="font-weight: bold;">stress</u> of the lies. It was becoming <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u>. Geena had begun smoking and drinking. . . .just as Dan did. Unlike Geena, Dan was <u>more</u> <u>upfront</u> of his misdeeds. Her brother <u style="font-weight: bold;">constantly</u> complained to his sister of the <u>grief</u> bestowed to him from their parents; thanks to his <u>truth</u>; that Geena didn't. She <u>hid</u> her's from them. Dan didn't realize that Geena was doing a <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>bang-up job of giving herself <i><u>grief</u></i>. - So, out of the crushing grief/anymore. . .. Richard & Geena decided to get married. </div><div><br /></div><div>The ceremony took place in the church where Geena grew up and where her parents got married. Her mother tried to talk Geena out of it, but also assisted her daughter in the proceedings. After the ceremony, which was in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Fellowship Hall</u> next to the church, where <u>one</u> flute of champagne <u>per</u> <u>person</u> was <u>permitted</u>. Later, they drove to Connecticut to celebrate with New York friends. It didn't take long for Geena to have "<i>wife regret</i>". Even though Geena developed a significant side hustle with the window mannequin job - she was also known to be in the window of a cute boutique in <u style="font-style: italic;">Soho</u> on Sundays, with a mission-at-hand. . Modeling her way into acting.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZAVROCVtfuTIenFM8LQcDxVOgc1zn9BZJqZf82y4DTk4PXx91BYVunXpVgBUaJAnNnNy6WXFUiON6PXsiEROHwPDBSFcgDU8KsQAOAMm5mMXrh8KfhKBU2kcQ4mhhR7JbC42G6wn7u91Q9EgXibN08Von-SAfobzG0a3CqbCY7BJ1hOU82DNkAmkM2Pa/s200/willy.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="200" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZAVROCVtfuTIenFM8LQcDxVOgc1zn9BZJqZf82y4DTk4PXx91BYVunXpVgBUaJAnNnNy6WXFUiON6PXsiEROHwPDBSFcgDU8KsQAOAMm5mMXrh8KfhKBU2kcQ4mhhR7JbC42G6wn7u91Q9EgXibN08Von-SAfobzG0a3CqbCY7BJ1hOU82DNkAmkM2Pa/s1600/willy.png" width="200" /></a></div>Geena'd made a list of the <u>TOP</u> agencies in New York at the time and was picking them off one-by-one, in order of their status. Beginning with the premier <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Ford Modeling Agency</i> . . . .with a profile of <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARY</u> clientele. Geena waited with bated breath, until the agent BOSS herself. For which Geena was turned down due to her jawline. Never to be completely undone by plagued events. . .it was only the <u>first</u> stop! Next was trying for <u style="font-style: italic;">Wilhemina Models</u>. She was informed of her age and her height disqualified her. By the time Geena hit the <u style="font-style: italic;">Foli Agency</u>; she was 5'10 and just 18-yrs-old. She was <u>just</u> what they<b><u> wanted</u></b> and signed her on. So, now Geena was an <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUAL</u> model. Now, life has gone on a fast track from there. . . </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7SyFZV0ci9x7iVKvjNyIALEoy_dBfY0TxssfcGsW1Z87auir_wxWU3TREgPList8M1JYr3x7sDJoEYn59GAPYaxhrG8bueUFublbKY46n_szrsRnfmx5Q_1QrsA6t4WxqfLDfDBdUyNz8NS3Nj5O_vr_pU19Rf-l1HDzbmndFALvVVfNoFR1-V2IOp85/s112/unnamed.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="112" data-original-width="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7SyFZV0ci9x7iVKvjNyIALEoy_dBfY0TxssfcGsW1Z87auir_wxWU3TREgPList8M1JYr3x7sDJoEYn59GAPYaxhrG8bueUFublbKY46n_szrsRnfmx5Q_1QrsA6t4WxqfLDfDBdUyNz8NS3Nj5O_vr_pU19Rf-l1HDzbmndFALvVVfNoFR1-V2IOp85/s16000/unnamed.png" /></a></div>Geena's career as a model was unorthodox. But, <u>unlike</u> the <u style="font-style: italic;">Ann Taylor</u> job; she <b><u>adored</u></b> it. There was something <u>wonderful</u> about walking through the New York streets <u>knowing</u> she was making decent money as a model. She had <u>tried</u> to garner <u>true</u> confidence about body image; but <u>couldn't</u> accept any <u>true</u> compliment. She had to "<i>believe to achieve</i>". Geena <u>knew</u> how to stand . . .the rest were up to her. She <u>did</u> figure out how to trick people regarding her height. She took to wearing high heels everywhere. If something went wrong; she could blame the shoes. To her great excitement, Geena landed the cover of a magazine - the summer issue of <u style="font-style: italic;">New Jersey Monthly</u>; the <u>bastion</u> of <u>all</u> things fashionable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Geena was making enough money to somewhat sadly, leave <u style="font-style: italic;">Ann Taylor</u> behind. Due to her height, Geena was hired for gigs where heights didn't matter. Geena was regularly cast for <u>face</u> modeling. Someone's body with Geena's face. This made <u>no</u> <u>dent</u> in her self-regard. The body-double gigs caused Geena to end up in numerous bizarre scenarios. Before shooting photos for her <u>first</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Victoria's Secret</u> catalog in San Francisco, Geena was asked to dye her "<i>body hair</i>" blonde for the job at hand; so she did. Doing what the job required - <u>politely</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHFgYT0iBBvLwcdUosOp-3Ub9yBlFmslckjxhn4m6wjDkXiRajcoANZFXfsi_Vk9Z7jUR4DsQ8d7pqZbOFJRAZaWi0bxFEP28Ut3Ekn60OpD6hOhyphenhyphenbdzLmKgDehSLoUO3aCL-vPtHHVKZ8wLObXMK3Q2jbxMw3mWLY0IBtcuIvC4Z6f2ZY9DTVycPzwcmV/s800/73187.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="800" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHFgYT0iBBvLwcdUosOp-3Ub9yBlFmslckjxhn4m6wjDkXiRajcoANZFXfsi_Vk9Z7jUR4DsQ8d7pqZbOFJRAZaWi0bxFEP28Ut3Ekn60OpD6hOhyphenhyphenbdzLmKgDehSLoUO3aCL-vPtHHVKZ8wLObXMK3Q2jbxMw3mWLY0IBtcuIvC4Z6f2ZY9DTVycPzwcmV/s320/73187.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Geena's hands had their own career long ago. In a <u style="font-style: italic;">L'Oreal</u> ad for their makeup line. They used another body. . .with Geena's hands. There was a piano and the sheet to the <u style="font-style: italic;">L'Oreal</u> theme song. After playing it, Geena got the gig. She was <u>thrilled</u>. Geena was glammed up for the occasion. She sat at the piano, feeling beautiful, when the time came . . .the director began yelling. Geena was <u>truly</u> embarrassed. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">playing</u> and was <u>supposed</u> to feign it. She could feel tears forming as the boss cranked his neck back. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOUDLY</u> instructed to flatten out her hands. She found a lot of indignity in modeling, especially in the lower rungs where Geena was finding work. Sadly, the look of horror on Geena's face wasn't <u>exactly</u> what they asked for.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pI3PQsMrv1N5uRInRbkeCq7bkc89ENfXm5ELyPEmfKQdvebfyzt8E4ZLRqs1Nkyl_MndQYn4GKgsNqXgfalqG6CGIfXpBrYeQnekBkAQ1CpLwGOUltPbTMFEyAZBilaYF7NzDQ6VcBOa6kgZenFdk0uRdtC71yaDXbH3UelkHwu_OzwD0hqJEV7gcG3D/s300/skor-chocolate-bar-logo-AFA31AE59E-seeklogo.com.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="99" data-original-width="300" height="99" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pI3PQsMrv1N5uRInRbkeCq7bkc89ENfXm5ELyPEmfKQdvebfyzt8E4ZLRqs1Nkyl_MndQYn4GKgsNqXgfalqG6CGIfXpBrYeQnekBkAQ1CpLwGOUltPbTMFEyAZBilaYF7NzDQ6VcBOa6kgZenFdk0uRdtC71yaDXbH3UelkHwu_OzwD0hqJEV7gcG3D/s1600/skor-chocolate-bar-logo-AFA31AE59E-seeklogo.com.png" width="300" /></a></div>Another time, Geena was sent to an audition for a jeans ad. There were also plenty of cool, creative things Geena got to do; including a really fun shoe commercial . . .really, a Swedish candy bar ad, but the candy bar, <u style="font-style: italic;">SKOR</u>, meant "<i>shoe</i>" in Swedish. In the commercial, eating the candy was to turn Geena into a Swede. The late 70s/early 80s were the height of "<i>Sweden and Sexy</i>" era. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, despite getting work, Geena's modeling career hadn't <u>truly</u> taken off. Geena's agency suggested she head off to Italy for another chance of being "<i>discovered</i>". So, Geena went off to Milan. She had <u>just</u> <u>enough</u> money to stay for 6 weeks. Her dreams were hoping to come true <u>fast</u>. Geena stayed in a youth hostel while she was there and had a picture of Richard on her bedside table. While there, her local agents taught her to phonetically announce the line for an Italian ad. Geena <u>truly</u> got the script down and can <u style="font-weight: bold;">STILL</u> recite it verbatim <u>to</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>. The <u>only</u> problem was the condensation in addressing Geena. The woman casting the commercial thought she was <u>PERFECT</u>, and the job was hers - <u style="font-weight: bold;">IF</u> Geena could take the compliment. But, Geena <u>simply</u> could not break out of her training. That was a downfall in her loss of the job.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41Qjc18Y9Y8wcgQzW3SP0ugN4s46e8sImBOp-gxYYKXANAwPqcHciXHaRnulB_Oajm-3Yzwt1jn7pTX70lz-tm9qYRQD6g-08WrTEkh7JGKQweRIn8LVevnUqePKcY0DOkiGzbEL7aUZdUNs8pRYZRcVN6_MGrpSEXjhSVEqg33lv5yNlfwPiPA9y-Zdh/s2048/Ewvy-uEUcAIJ8GJ.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1438" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41Qjc18Y9Y8wcgQzW3SP0ugN4s46e8sImBOp-gxYYKXANAwPqcHciXHaRnulB_Oajm-3Yzwt1jn7pTX70lz-tm9qYRQD6g-08WrTEkh7JGKQweRIn8LVevnUqePKcY0DOkiGzbEL7aUZdUNs8pRYZRcVN6_MGrpSEXjhSVEqg33lv5yNlfwPiPA9y-Zdh/s320/Ewvy-uEUcAIJ8GJ.jpeg" width="225" /></a></div>Geena <u>struggled</u> in Italy. Then, near the end of her sojourn, she lucked into a hand-modeling job for Italian <u style="font-style: italic;">Vogue</u>, for 8 pages of watches. But, all they got were Geena's wrists. So, with all of the misgivings with the job at hand, Geena weaved fudging the truth. Which in turn led to more work from a higher caliber than before. Building a modeling career, finding all kinds of wiles to finagle jobs - <u>all</u> with her <u>eye</u> <u>on</u> <u>the</u> <u>prize</u>. A future as an actor. </div><div><br /></div><div>Geena's commercial agent at <u style="font-style: italic;">Zoli</u> got a call from a casting agent looking for models whom could act. Her agent <u>knew</u> that was the <u>goal</u>. For the first time, Geena was going to get to audition for a part in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">movie</u>. Things were coming together all according to plan. Geena was instructed to wear a bikini under her clothes just in case due to the role at hand. So, off she went to an office in Midtown to the location of the audition. It became trouble for <u>nothing</u>. Geena's mind turned elsewhere. She was soon headed to Paris for the first time to walk the runways. She was thrilled to be hired for a <u>few</u> shows, until she got a call from an <u style="font-weight: bold;">urgent</u> call from her <u><i>Zoli</i></u> agent after finding a pay phone in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Paris Metro</u> that she'd <u>gotten</u> the part. A little confused at first. The director of the movie and the casting director <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> liked Geena's audition tape, and the lead actor <u>especially</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> her Brooklyn accent. The Boston accent Geena worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> for was <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> replaced with ones she heard daily.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygjQiaCvykA58STrih1_2_6HQzCqU3t09MEA3mauoXTrDz9hLwx2hsyOJbxPM-lN8Fi9oYNNAKm6PnYIsKBFzrq09f93rOUXfhKK7JWGlGGxJz286fJ4vMW3WeE4v99vBUsiJNiFQDN9of1ppTA7uQOHORajVlDTVsPoQ-DvdmC7HQdk8tSBEmiHWwmZc/s2560/fc4e51217d03224c5bb3155d48cd6fbfd07dd728b2fcdef7d3d2a635746c57e6.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygjQiaCvykA58STrih1_2_6HQzCqU3t09MEA3mauoXTrDz9hLwx2hsyOJbxPM-lN8Fi9oYNNAKm6PnYIsKBFzrq09f93rOUXfhKK7JWGlGGxJz286fJ4vMW3WeE4v99vBUsiJNiFQDN9of1ppTA7uQOHORajVlDTVsPoQ-DvdmC7HQdk8tSBEmiHWwmZc/s320/fc4e51217d03224c5bb3155d48cd6fbfd07dd728b2fcdef7d3d2a635746c57e6.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Turns out the lack of footage of Geena in a bikini was a mistake on the part of the casting assistant. The strong reaction from the director put the footage into oversight. Either way, the deal was <u>done</u>. Geena got the part. She headed back to New York <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>, although there was no rush. <u>To</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>, something about the role bequeathed to her left a harboring nagging regret that she didn't stay on the Paris' runways. From there, Geena went from modeling to work on a <u style="font-weight: bold;">CLASSIC</u>. . .<u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was beyond Geena's <u>wildest</u> imagination that she would get the <u>first</u> movie role she audition for. It was hard to estimate how fortunate she was. Geena was flabbergasted that such a thing could happen so fast. Before working on the film, Geena was worried about the lack of experience. Her trepidation only <u style="font-weight: bold;">deepened</u> the first morning on set as director Sydney Pollack was seen talking to extras for other projects. He wanted his actors to <u style="font-weight: bold;">FEEL</u> their work. But, then he was getting exasperated. Geena was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u> that she'd be caught <u>not</u> knowing how to do something. In many, many cases, Geena would find a way to BS her way through the task. She was living the "<i>fake it til you make it</i>" concept <u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">before</u> she ever heard the term.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Geena was at <u style="font-style: italic;">B.U</u>., she had a work study job where she was to design signs/posters for the campus, and it was a blast. And now here she was again, only this time on the set of a major motion picture. Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> not to let it be <u>known</u> it was her <u>first</u> movie. She didn't know you were supposed to come to set <u>only</u> during <u>your</u> <u>own</u> scenes to film. She just presumed <u>everyone</u> showed up <u>daily</u>. <u>Everyday</u>, there she was, 6:00A. Despite this, Sydney was <u>incredibly</u> welcoming to her, and treated Geena with <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> respect. Sydney loved the actors; he was one himself. <u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u> was the first time he'd acted. Dustin Hoffman convinced him to take on the role of his character's agent. Geena's confidence only <u>grew</u> as they went along; and it had <u>ALOT</u> to do with Dustin. He mentioned her throughout the shoot and gave her a multitude of advice for the future career she would have. One of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> lessons he gave Geena was on his 2ND day. At lunch, he took her down to see the dailies. He took Geena to <u>watch</u> them. Learn <u>how</u> to watch. Reviewing your work is very valuable to the actor. Since then, Geena watched the dailies on every movie she'd worked on, and it <u style="font-style: italic;">has</u> been invaluable. Anything is good if it works for you.</div><div><br /></div><div>In movies, Geena'd <u>quickly</u> discover, you have one shot at getting a scene right - the day you shot it. Over the years, Geena would come to realize it would <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> be the case if she shot the scene again the next day, she'd done a better job. But, Geena learned that its better to be her best <i><u>at</u> <u>that</u> <u>time</u></i>. She would do better next time. She found it <u>liberating</u> that the feeling would come to be, in every aspect in her life. . . and it <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> stemmed from a moment with Dustin Hoffman toward a beginner in their first movie. Not all of Dustin's advice was <u>so</u> weighty. Another piece of advice was regarding male actors: "<i>Never sleep with your co-stars</i>". Geena squirreled that lesson away.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtoKmLarqdf8vkUigxfknwnshXN6ubUsRVuoaJOx3g7a_u5uVW9c4aXQSA5QzyHsP0GwTX-99iXImzBgUVvwfhgnEOL14IVjluosQo5m4aZH5PKtnEDr2YtgHMsshdZPYjo1Vr9zqGPQUN2QNHYj2Aeezrh8hr3a2dj8DnHQxSi9ba9LMDLqS_pvmoJYB/s1284/tootsie-hoffman-davis.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="1284" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtoKmLarqdf8vkUigxfknwnshXN6ubUsRVuoaJOx3g7a_u5uVW9c4aXQSA5QzyHsP0GwTX-99iXImzBgUVvwfhgnEOL14IVjluosQo5m4aZH5PKtnEDr2YtgHMsshdZPYjo1Vr9zqGPQUN2QNHYj2Aeezrh8hr3a2dj8DnHQxSi9ba9LMDLqS_pvmoJYB/s320/tootsie-hoffman-davis.webp" width="320" /></a></div>When Geena showed up on-set - every single day - she would get a director's chair out of a closet, pull up next to the director and sit & <b><u>learn</u></b>. People thought Geena had some nerve sitting next to the director while he was working, But, the director just <u>presumed</u> Geena <b><u>wanted</u></b> to learn. What Geena didn't know at the time was there was a <u>distinct</u> hierarchy on a movie set and everyone stays in their lane. When an actor has a certain status in the cast, a chair with their name on set is out, but Geena didn't know any of that. There was no chair with her name on it. . . what was on it was her <i><u>character's</u></i> name - April Page, due to her fictional status as a soap star in the film. Geena also noted the closet where the chairs were kept, so she resided there with her <u><i>character's</i></u> chair. Only later did she get the <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">cold</span> sweats of regret. Despite the cringeworthy aspect of it, Geena was happy she did the film. <u>Everyone</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> the film would bomb. Geena was <u>positively</u> <u>sure</u> the film would <u style="font-weight: bold;">succeed</u>. Which it did. Geena's outlook gave the director some assurance. </div><div><br /></div><div>Geena is a <u>certified</u> night owl, but those 6 weeks were the <u>only</u> time she sprang out of bed in the morning. She could not wait to get to set. The film became an exercise in a masterclass in film-making, and from film geniuses. Geena would <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> again have to walk on a movie set feeling <u>inadequate</u>. This film heightened Geena's confidence - <u>slowly</u>. She found her profession to be the <u>best</u> in the world. After wrapping <u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u>, the head of Geena's modeling agency, <u style="font-style: italic;">Foli</u>, thought it would be a good idea to take her and a couple of other models/actors to L.A. to make rounds and meet casting directors. Geena was all for going to Hollywood. She already lucked out in New York.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_EphsfO36604iewT7AYmTK48WzFj22KDdyfO6gm6lwTV-9X1OsvQ2-INwNZ-skkh1h8Kfs2hSy6vbbxasXwYrrPZzNqJ6NW1boRw5UA59zx4-zW6wCMifKHSRqTIaB-5uULUvfUcNl0lwYxR5VAD4qXMfvIMwTzYWzG1N8MmwPd_r2EurnFkzJ6ftqRI/s512/512px-ET_logo.svg.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="290" data-original-width="512" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_EphsfO36604iewT7AYmTK48WzFj22KDdyfO6gm6lwTV-9X1OsvQ2-INwNZ-skkh1h8Kfs2hSy6vbbxasXwYrrPZzNqJ6NW1boRw5UA59zx4-zW6wCMifKHSRqTIaB-5uULUvfUcNl0lwYxR5VAD4qXMfvIMwTzYWzG1N8MmwPd_r2EurnFkzJ6ftqRI/s320/512px-ET_logo.svg.png" width="320" /></a></div>The week before Christmas in 1982, <u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u> hit theaters and was an <u style="font-weight: bold;">instant</u> smash hit. The amount competition for that amount of success that year was <u style="font-style: italic;">E.T</u>. <u>Unfortunately</u>, Geena's parents <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u> delighted with <u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u>; due to the underwear scene. Geena's brother, Dan and his wife, Marilyn, thought the film was great. Although, <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">word</u> from her parents. The entire experience was a little too surreal for them. Overall, there was <u>pride</u> in Geena being in a movie.</div><div><br /></div><div>Geena's next job, amazingly, came along with little effort. Dabney Coleman played the chauvinistic TV director of the film's soap. They both got to know each other on-set in New York. Dabney thought Geena's audition was good enough that she was able to decamp to Hollywood with a paying job. But, L.A. wasn't Richard's kind-of-town. He was a New Yorker through-and-through and didn't <u>truly</u> settle. Thankfully, with no drama in detail, it became <u>clear</u> they were on the way to moving along with their lives apart. They resume being close to this day. Geena had thought she'd never love a place as much as NYC, but she fantasized about L.A. since she was a kid, without <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> realizing it. Geena would draw what her "<i>adult life</i>" would be like. In L.A., for the first time, she felt this was <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> where she was supposed to be. </div><div><br /></div><div>Any environment Geena was in as a kid, she was unfit for. But, she loved everything about California - the scenery, the weather, the homes . . . and she was permitted to drive everywhere which she <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> missed. When her parents visited Geena after a movie to L.A., they had an extra bag with them containing <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> food that her mom prepared for her daughter. During their stay, Geena informed her dad that she was going to write an episode of <u style="font-style: italic;">Buffalo Bill</u> which aired on February 9, 1984. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> script Geena ever wrote. </div><div><br /></div><div>Geena was now firmly ensconced in L.A. and her resume boasted a hit movie and a beloved sitcom. She felt the stars aligning. . .but the success of the show was up in the air. There ended up being a whole year between the 2 seasons - it became a <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u> time for Geena. She was running out of money; so she returned to modeling. The L.A. scene was <u>very</u> <u>different</u> from New York. She was only able to secure gigs like a full-page ad in the <u style="font-style: italic;">L.A. Times</u> Sunday people. Geena received calls from a few people on <u style="font-style: italic;">Buffalo Bill</u> wondering if it <u>truly</u> was her. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">embarrassed</u>. <i>How is she a house-model</i>? The <u style="font-weight: bold;">weight</u> of this question drove Geena to depression. She soon realized she was <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> showering or getting dressed daily. She'd <u>simply</u> sit on the bed and stare off.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38EA0_iHjKhstbvD9jKkvcMuGoBZbsnIqUkqx-d5eYm_1ooxTRokbn9xN8hzatyuBWW4mFQsRh9ipgbvY41QNdOwLJaxiY_V1IQBbtkvRfW8s4sjr0K4uDPGLDSW9aZnje0Nbq8zIOMBquF85OLwiT3_6iDD4JTltrq6UWn_YCoUvhm75WzfyvmwMPlqE/s318/download.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="318" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38EA0_iHjKhstbvD9jKkvcMuGoBZbsnIqUkqx-d5eYm_1ooxTRokbn9xN8hzatyuBWW4mFQsRh9ipgbvY41QNdOwLJaxiY_V1IQBbtkvRfW8s4sjr0K4uDPGLDSW9aZnje0Nbq8zIOMBquF85OLwiT3_6iDD4JTltrq6UWn_YCoUvhm75WzfyvmwMPlqE/s1600/download.jpeg" width="318" /></a></div>It was Dabney Coleman whom recommended a therapist to Geena. If nothing else, she had <u>that</u> to look forward to. As time went by, her therapist was truly bothered by how depressed Geena continued to be, and that problem grew into one itself. A year into therapy, it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticeable</u> that her depression was <b><u>worsening</u></b>. Geena was then <u>fired</u> from her therapist. Her ideal treatment for Geena was to start therapy with the man the therapist lived with. <u>That</u> worked and did <b><u>WONDERS</u>!</b> Eventually, <u style="font-style: italic;">Buffalo Bill</u> returned and Geena was in <u>full</u> <u>swing</u>. But, long term was <u>not</u> to be. The second season was to be its last. After <u style="font-style: italic;">Buffalo Bill</u>, Geena did several guest spots on various shows. She was naive of the status of guest stars <u style="font-weight: bold;">focusing</u> on the <u>star</u> portion of the title and not the <u style="font-weight: bold;">guest</u> of that situation. </div><div><br /></div><div>Geena's <u>first</u> guest starring role was on an episode of <u style="font-style: italic;">Knight Rider</u>. She was the character of Grace Fallon. She was trepidatious when David Hasselhoff invited her to his trailer at lunchtime. He had asked Geena to scrapbook through clippings detailing his superstardom in Germany. From there, Geena was cast on a guest role in <u style="font-style: italic;">Fantasy Island</u>. It certainly came up a number of times over the years with Geena's height. When the male actor was just a bit shorter than her, she came up with a no-fuss way of shrinking herself. . .Depending on how much shorter she needed to be, Geena could delve down deeper to match. Geena wasn't done with guest-starring work. They financially saved her and she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> for the work. Some of the roles were weird and fun. <u>But</u>, these experiences <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">clearly</u> demonstrated the hierarchy of sets. Being a guest role made you low-totem-pole interloper.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vgDNY-L61JHTHS9O5R84QmFoTA0GvmwAjtVo6Fy_uowi8nUtPIFjSrWTTzu4CKObj7WXRyUoT5OKZtktcWEvhWsLb6Km6APybFoVMicaj3BpIUfn2J43AEQJm-Q-twaQX8MYdQe0L9HkYIMo-m6vkomPGoS8gD79cWTeJMh3xOahKEtWT_5MfUpe4lIw/s1000/MV5BNmQ3ZjE3YWYtMTUzOS00MWVlLWFhMzQtNjExNzhmYmUyNGUwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTQ3Njg3MQ@@._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="680" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vgDNY-L61JHTHS9O5R84QmFoTA0GvmwAjtVo6Fy_uowi8nUtPIFjSrWTTzu4CKObj7WXRyUoT5OKZtktcWEvhWsLb6Km6APybFoVMicaj3BpIUfn2J43AEQJm-Q-twaQX8MYdQe0L9HkYIMo-m6vkomPGoS8gD79cWTeJMh3xOahKEtWT_5MfUpe4lIw/w273-h400/MV5BNmQ3ZjE3YWYtMTUzOS00MWVlLWFhMzQtNjExNzhmYmUyNGUwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTQ3Njg3MQ@@._V1_.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>Geena didn't care about the guest roles. But, she felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">horrible</u> about the extras being treated like second class citizens. Therefore, whenever Geena was in the main cast on a project, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> makes sure <u style="font-weight: bold;">everyone</u> feels <u>valued</u> and <u>seen</u>. By the mid-1980s, Geena guest starred in 2 episodes of <u style="font-style: italic;">Family Ties</u> running back-to-back. One job led to the work of another. Working <u style="font-weight: bold;">plenty</u> in 1985. A guest spot in <u style="font-style: italic;">Remington Steele</u>. On the back of her guest appearance in <u style="font-style: italic;">Family Ties</u>, production wanted to make Geena her <u>own</u> show, <u style="font-style: italic;">Sara</u>, with Geena in mind. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">moon</u>. Therefore, Geena wasn't going back to modeling any time soon. <u style="font-style: italic;">NBC</u> was styling <u style="font-style: italic;">Sara</u> as the <u>new</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Mary Tyler Moore Show</u>. Alfre Woodard played Geena's best friend. Partway through the show-running, it was a concern that Geena was "<i>too pretty</i>" to be relatable to audiences.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite this horrible idea, Geena shot certain episodes sans makeup. She was cheered on with help from writers. The next morning, it seemed that <u style="font-style: italic;">NBC</u> agreed with audiences. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> to be <u>purposefully</u> made to look like a <i>plain jane</i> again. In the end, the show went along, but for Geena, not feeling like part of the team made it feel less joyful. Despite being the title character, no one thought Geena should be included in the process. Given that <u style="font-style: italic;">NBC</u> wanted Geena to become the next <u style="font-style: italic;">Mary Tyler Moore</u>, she figured she could talk things through <u>smoothly</u> with the then head of the network, Brandon Tartikoff, with a lunch. She didn't beat around the bush. Therein, <u style="font-style: italic;">Sara</u> was nixed. It <u>wasn't</u> a horrible experience. They had a lot of fun on-set. Geena loved <u>everyone</u> on the crew. They finished their <u>final</u> episodes and had a great wrap party. So, that was <u style="font-style: italic;">Sara</u> in a nutshell. Geena wasn't her character. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> was and <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> would be.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpgoHniOKCFXELmE3-Yrc-99pSeAMQzh0wVKK3DpCcpRXW-XTejn_nYJ8f7_akX8RGzBk1OU7XzGa8CegUEb8Kbh-i_Ccdv4YsRAyJgPI5hgEZryR_VkVV4EnHQ2alJ0Mpo2keOdFoYB6mp8V_95boBsNpBVnzrbO2NxbtpeKCv_tBgFQWt3aeu8q-bOQ/s1200/t-001.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="871" data-original-width="1200" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpgoHniOKCFXELmE3-Yrc-99pSeAMQzh0wVKK3DpCcpRXW-XTejn_nYJ8f7_akX8RGzBk1OU7XzGa8CegUEb8Kbh-i_Ccdv4YsRAyJgPI5hgEZryR_VkVV4EnHQ2alJ0Mpo2keOdFoYB6mp8V_95boBsNpBVnzrbO2NxbtpeKCv_tBgFQWt3aeu8q-bOQ/s320/t-001.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Geena could feel something percolating in the air. Her phone was ringing regularly. Off-screen things were looking up as well. <u style="font-style: italic;">Sara</u> had given Geena enough money to purchase her first home. Turns out Geena bought the house <u>twice</u> and managed to move in/out of it 4 times within this entirety. When Geena was cast in a move called <u style="font-style: italic;">Transylvania 6-5000</u>, starring Jeff Goldblum, with whom she fell in love with, she sold her home to be with him. She bought it again after their split. She continued this pattern through 2 relationships. It was around this time that Geena found out her mom's laminating her daughter's press <u>success</u>, If Geena wanted a big supply of placements with her face on them, she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> set. Geena's mother delighted herself in her <u>new</u> role and therein Geena learned the <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u> origin of her name's spelling.(<i>Being young, Geena's mother thought the original spelling was too familiar of a female body part. . .so she changed it</i>.)</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyskWh9iiiLM1WYuMPVMuZS5dQrB-ducOsfjVnftgeDJdwZFxbAS4Cc1gASeoO2LCbzx3cm976biX7gVsYLT9sN-fpfgN9AzDFFre-I64uPOyBpBVdQbzaYwvJfEh7MXqEjKv1PypxX_B2kwo1EgjZif8uEowFd9WiVsAX1z3CO4Z8jWoMa2WgznjOxicu/s272/download.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="272" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyskWh9iiiLM1WYuMPVMuZS5dQrB-ducOsfjVnftgeDJdwZFxbAS4Cc1gASeoO2LCbzx3cm976biX7gVsYLT9sN-fpfgN9AzDFFre-I64uPOyBpBVdQbzaYwvJfEh7MXqEjKv1PypxX_B2kwo1EgjZif8uEowFd9WiVsAX1z3CO4Z8jWoMa2WgznjOxicu/w320-h218/download.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>It was through a series of multiple incidents in Geena's career that made her <u style="font-weight: bold;">realize</u> that the mistreatment of female actors was <u style="font-weight: bold;">everywhere</u> and plentiful, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> disheartening. Becoming her <u>authentic</u> self and protecting that person was hardly a linear endeavor. As with many things in life, it tended to a 2-step. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> to compromise herself in an audition, but she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> to get past it; her <u style="font-weight: bold;">tougher</u> self was slowly growing within her through such pains and such slights. What the movie lacked in quality, it was made up with on a personal level. By the end of filming, it was inevitable that Jeff & Geena were going to be together. Their mutual interest had grown into romance; and back in the States, they eventually moved into together. When Geena left for the movie, she was living with and engaged to - one of the <u>most</u> <u>wonderful</u> men she ever knew, the actor Christopher McDonald. Geena described him asa truly beautiful person. . .and she therein broke his heart to be with Jeff. Jeff didn't deserve what Geena put him through but he <u>eventually</u> was able to forgive her, for which she will <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> be <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u>. To Geena's delight, they even got to work together a few years later.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUir7ASaiSHiIhuYGgVs2wxzeEsetCXdNL3NTchdhyphenhyphenGXnpbDwCcdY7eL6RVidTq0io2WMyup2XGNUh6bcPSs3Abouaf6qudr5pAWEOuDGXrQTvcnAPF3waXKIUWJWyMtWf0MyrP4X7xIoKxu7Clkl-nm_A5XWxQ8uELT7AEtSxP7c2LCujAp0vPnGOXmh/s1500/8gZWMhJHRvaXdXsNhERtqNHYpH3.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUir7ASaiSHiIhuYGgVs2wxzeEsetCXdNL3NTchdhyphenhyphenGXnpbDwCcdY7eL6RVidTq0io2WMyup2XGNUh6bcPSs3Abouaf6qudr5pAWEOuDGXrQTvcnAPF3waXKIUWJWyMtWf0MyrP4X7xIoKxu7Clkl-nm_A5XWxQ8uELT7AEtSxP7c2LCujAp0vPnGOXmh/s320/8gZWMhJHRvaXdXsNhERtqNHYpH3.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>If <u style="font-style: italic;">Transylvania 6-5000</u> was a silly weird-ass re-entry with movie-making, Geena's next project was the <u>complete</u> opposite, and a <u style="font-weight: bold;">big</u> deal: her <u>first</u> ever lead role, as journalist Veronica Quaife in <u style="font-style: italic;">The Fly</u>. Viewers seen this film as a metaphor for the AIDS crisis ravaging the country in the 80s. Once he was cast, Jeff Goldblum recommended Geena for the role of Veronica. The creative team liked her audition a lot. Production was concerned that they'd breakup during the making of the film, and that would spell disaster for the project. There was <u>no</u> <u>chance</u> of them splitting on <u style="font-style: italic;">The Fly</u>. Jeff & Geena lived and breathed that movie. It was about as intense a creative experience that one could get. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">obsessed</u> with the script and worked <u>tirelessly</u> on it. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Fly</u> was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For Geena, <u>first</u> lead movie role, she couldn't have asked for a better experience. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> what she wanted. To feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">confident</u>. When the film came out, Geena & Jeff snuck into the back of a huge <u style="font-style: italic;">Times Square</u> theatre on opening night, eager to see the crowd's reaction. It was <u>perfect</u>. To their delight. . . .the film was a hit. . .</div><div><br /></div><div>Back in Wareham, to the locals Geena's star seemed to have dimmed <u style="font-weight: bold;">drastically</u>. She soon became the fodder for church gossip. As for her parents, <u style="font-style: italic;">The Fly</u> didn't signal a rise in stature. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Knowing</u> they were going to be watching. Geena eagerly awaited their call. <u>Silence</u>. In the end, Geena couldn't take it and called her brother. Dan <u>loved</u> it. As far as her parents go, they didn't care about certain parts; which they hemmhawed over. Geena was getting a little peeved about their reaction. After a long silence. . .her mom whispered about the <i>sexual</i> nature. Geena always fell in line with her characters. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> wanted to stop being them; so she wanted to do sequels to most of her work - <u>except</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u>. . .<i>As we know why</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw5kMRYJ416QK0Wm6oLSz5rt-ZJXijVVht7OuzLRSxdcn_i5VLLe5QdAPQXwNaljmNwGQmTnG_Zzkz5SqgO4Z4jmDNFqqopPdasTErIl9G9SgCv-lly6rJZGkVWu_BbMzJALsgUIMm3qlUHb2T1-w8pWdbLGw_CupXjuI8Xu6EcSDLpzRgB4y2QVtNJFQ/s2000/geena-davis-dustin-hoffman.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw5kMRYJ416QK0Wm6oLSz5rt-ZJXijVVht7OuzLRSxdcn_i5VLLe5QdAPQXwNaljmNwGQmTnG_Zzkz5SqgO4Z4jmDNFqqopPdasTErIl9G9SgCv-lly6rJZGkVWu_BbMzJALsgUIMm3qlUHb2T1-w8pWdbLGw_CupXjuI8Xu6EcSDLpzRgB4y2QVtNJFQ/s320/geena-davis-dustin-hoffman.webp" width="320" /></a></div>While making <u style="font-style: italic;">The Fly</u>, Geena read a book she was <u>crazy</u> about. There was <b><u>a</u></b> <u><b>lot</b></u> of time in Toronto for reading. In her downtime, Geena read novels. A piece of advice given to her by Dustin Hoffman:</div><div><i style="font-weight: bold;">Always be on the lookout for books that would make a great film</i>. </div><div>One author Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> loved was Ann Taylor. So, when <u style="font-style: italic;">The Accidental Tourist</u> book came out, Geena picked it up and <u>adored</u> it. She called her agent to ask how to buy the rights. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrD2nZMASU0_tAwEu4omW1lk4kgbnyjBNOm-TWzYvrtcIL_OAMsRaEwmksnac3Gt05ku70CwGkVNg-ZYxyupt8PdywYoFP4SRdCxSuozWM7PvZzYwUsZL3vkb7JDcqhFNwEZINd9CwvkMUv5SOUqEh507cvdX3i9x4CSufMK-ylH3gigitPGv947tzwagC/s2000/1124760.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrD2nZMASU0_tAwEu4omW1lk4kgbnyjBNOm-TWzYvrtcIL_OAMsRaEwmksnac3Gt05ku70CwGkVNg-ZYxyupt8PdywYoFP4SRdCxSuozWM7PvZzYwUsZL3vkb7JDcqhFNwEZINd9CwvkMUv5SOUqEh507cvdX3i9x4CSufMK-ylH3gigitPGv947tzwagC/s320/1124760.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Geena had </span><u style="text-align: left;">no</u><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><u style="text-align: left;">idea</u><span style="text-align: left;"> how much movie rights cost great books. In this case, the rights were gone. She was </span><u style="text-align: left;">crushed</u><span style="text-align: left;"> over the loss of the role of Muriel Pritchett. Geena shook it off and moved on: Another bug was crawling up the walls of her career. . .</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fresh off the success of his latest film, Tim Burton was a hot new director. <u style="font-style: italic;">Beetlejuice</u> was his next big project. Geena was cast as Barbara Maitland. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u> opposite fate from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Fly II</u>; dying was <u>essential</u> to the character. This was a movie/story that Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">GOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UNDERSTOOD</u>. That was why director, Tim hired her. Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">GOT</u> the story. She realized that she <b><u>didn't</u></b> really <u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> to play the typical female roles she was used to seeing. She wanted roles that brought a challenge. That's why she chose unusual films like <i><u>The Fly</u> </i> & <u style="font-style: italic;">Beeltejuice</u>. They presented challenges and unusual things to <b><u>do</u></b>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was only as time went on that Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> there was a unifying theme to what she was drawn to: Women taking charge of their destinies. Geena wanted to act out characters who were <u style="font-weight: bold;">bold</u> and self-possessed, probably because she felt herself being <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u> removed from their qualities. These roles would work in the opposite direction as well. They taught her how to configure her <u>own</u> fate in her life <u>off</u>-screen.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the 80s, Geena found herself in what is described as "<i>offbeat</i>" films, but to her they were opportunities to try being more <u style="font-weight: bold;">confident</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">assertive</u>. Geena saw herself as somewhat eccentric, which could explain the offbeat choices, she tried to bring reality to the extraordinary. It's often been Geena's job to make the audience <u>believe</u> in an alternate reality. Geena had gotten <u>quite</u> <u>good</u> at picking the parts she wanted to play - and of course you can only pick what you're offered - but Geena was having a ball with these odd characters. The reason why Geena was suggested for <u style="font-weight: bold;">these</u> particular roles due to the colorfulness <u style="font-weight: bold;">she</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">put</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">into</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">them</u>. She was just great at choosing colorful parts. Geena found that making the female supporting character(s) more interesting was <u>not</u> a top priority for many filmmakers. They were mainly characters with no plot to the story. She often wondered if the idea of making female characters more dimensional is just something male writers and directors don't seem as necessary. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oBChonejutqDVDnEQqfYZYZ_uQSQOhVPbir4Iw7lWE65ZBmioeI30hb9x3JdxF0ScPBr9j7sMDA6AHk4F7hg83doVZIfFLxiDFgEmiurWraxpfsZYSY4xQqH0NKWKBi0_sv1QyiHyn4yQIIxuuoZBbzFFHwI-DAvWzlHuRCMkRG5WCNneEh_romVq5K2/s1600/67c7birsk1la1.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_oBChonejutqDVDnEQqfYZYZ_uQSQOhVPbir4Iw7lWE65ZBmioeI30hb9x3JdxF0ScPBr9j7sMDA6AHk4F7hg83doVZIfFLxiDFgEmiurWraxpfsZYSY4xQqH0NKWKBi0_sv1QyiHyn4yQIIxuuoZBbzFFHwI-DAvWzlHuRCMkRG5WCNneEh_romVq5K2/s320/67c7birsk1la1.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>Beeltejuice</u> was the first set that Geena's parents ever visited. They felt right at home. Being from Vermont and filmed in New Hampshire. So homey that they bought a secondhand <u style="font-style: italic;">Airstream</u> trailer to stay in. As for Geena, she was a ball of nerves worrying about the comfortability of her parents. Fortunately, the A.D. (<i>assistant director</i>) kept them busy by adding them as extras in a couple of scenes, which gave them something to do and eased Geena's tension. Her dad was delighted for a small residual check for <u>extras</u> work. Her mom's <u>greatest</u> contribution to the film was the giant box of baked goods she'd brought to share around the set. She would continue bringing baked goods for the crew on-set, to the point where, when starting a new movie, people/staff would ask if her mom had made deliveries. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Geena & Jeff celebrated one another. They brought it out of one another. They were together for 2 1/2 years when they decided to go for a joint Vegas weekend with Ed Bagley, Jr. and his then wife to join on Halloween 1987. Ed & Ingrid presumed they were joining them to be witnesses for Geena & Jeff's nuptials . . .which was the <u>furthest</u> from their own minds. Jeff insisted since it was on the table. . .Geena froze. She knew she wanted to marry him, but still . . . Vegas? She was teary-eyed and Jeff <u>tried</u> to make her feel better. They called one of those goofy all-night chapels, which sent a limo to pick them up at 3AM. Afterward, the first hint of light was edging <u style="font-style: italic;">Las Vegas Blvd</u>; it was November 1, 1987 when Jeff & Geena were married. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfe1yvpNsxkr9kqVfEpBcuUtTktgW1xMKlsJGbr6Ju7gICW35UZyCtJ1amn8sZDfp_nb-h70hTMuHF9h9HnyPlDyk8ERRK_eHPvDsf1ldIDuNjlgVHo5MnBpQcysuj-Md3vVgnbwSA8YzCJMH_uF9phd5OvJ_bNeB6HgsKj5OXwt7z4kc-L_EfgQA1TmPB/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1035" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfe1yvpNsxkr9kqVfEpBcuUtTktgW1xMKlsJGbr6Ju7gICW35UZyCtJ1amn8sZDfp_nb-h70hTMuHF9h9HnyPlDyk8ERRK_eHPvDsf1ldIDuNjlgVHo5MnBpQcysuj-Md3vVgnbwSA8YzCJMH_uF9phd5OvJ_bNeB6HgsKj5OXwt7z4kc-L_EfgQA1TmPB/s320/s-l1600.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>Beetlejuice</u> turned out to be a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> hit. Geena was on a roll. Now, it was time to work with Jeff on their 3rd project; <u style="font-style: italic;">Earth Girls Are Easy</u>, in which she was a Valley girl and Jeff was an alien. As someone who's made a point of speaking about the quality of roles available to women, being in a movie of this stature was problematic. <u>But</u>, Geena is <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> but precious; she doesn't give a shit what people think. The film was <u>meant</u> to be a goof. <u style="font-style: italic;">Earth Girls Are Easy</u> was also a musical; Geena got up to lip-syncing an 80s song. The film added a freewheeling sense of fun. And then, something weird happened. . . Producers wondered if it was possible for Geena to be "<i>funnier</i>". Though she was thrown by the producer's comment, Geena made a decision: She was not going to change a thing. She felt like she was doing the role the right way; she she went ahead the way she had been. 3 Days Later, with Geena's not having changed <u>a</u> <u>thing</u> in her approach to the character, <u>everyone</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">THRILLED</u> with the terrific outcome. It was <u>much</u> funnier.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Geena received word that the Ann Taylor novel that she <u>loved</u> <u>so</u> <u>much</u>; <u style="font-style: italic;">The Accidental Tourist</u> was being directed to a film adaption. By this point, Geena knew how to fight for a part. But the bigger risk was not to tell him how much she wanted to play the part. So she did, on a night when Jeff & Geena were over for dinner. Geena brought it up. When she shared how <u>passionate</u> she was about this project, the director seemed surprised.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZNXY1-G5DlOO1EJbfbMSJ77iqJfxDYrdsv8gFYLHw3mlWQzKoZM7tVqik5pNfZo51hmL6Up3zMuK4vJN_uGi-c2iI-5Tm0DWxeSuZXuRbWbtWUOmRv4vs9JVU3HIgjbJcxE2oQPDOmpe8v21AGKrw_VnzDH8gnH5KUpPkliUv7SWcAz8c9ujPp0YcXvw/s1920/p11337_v_h10_af.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZNXY1-G5DlOO1EJbfbMSJ77iqJfxDYrdsv8gFYLHw3mlWQzKoZM7tVqik5pNfZo51hmL6Up3zMuK4vJN_uGi-c2iI-5Tm0DWxeSuZXuRbWbtWUOmRv4vs9JVU3HIgjbJcxE2oQPDOmpe8v21AGKrw_VnzDH8gnH5KUpPkliUv7SWcAz8c9ujPp0YcXvw/s320/p11337_v_h10_af.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The director, Lawrence Kasden, had directed Jeff in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">CLASSIC-LY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ICONIC</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">The Big Chill</u>, and resumed a great friendship with Geena & Jeff, along with his wife. As time went on, <u style="font-style: italic;">The Accidental Tourist</u> became Lawrence's next project into a movie adaptation. Geena was sick over it. A good friend was making a film on the book she <u style="font-weight: bold;">adored</u>, and Geena couldn't help but think of getting herself a part. She knew how to fight for a part, but it was with <u>unknown</u> people. This time, she feared that her insane need to be liked hindered the push for a role with an <u>actual</u> friend. Geena couldn't risk the possibility that Lawrence might pull away if she made him comfortable. But, the bigger risks were not expressing her desire for the part. So, she did. . .over a dinner with Jeff and Lawrence. Thank Goodness she brought it up. Otherwise, Geena may not have been suggested for the role at all. She expressed her passion for it for which Lawrence was <u style="font-style: italic;">surprised</u>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Lawrence was unsure of releasing the role to Geena due to her upbringing on Cape Cod. So, she lobbied for the part. So, Geena planned to alter her appearance for the role. <u>That</u> intrigued him. She ended up being 1-in-4 women asking for a screen test for the role; which she'd never done before. Geena was a basket of <u style="font-style: italic;">nerves</u>. She never wanted <u>so</u> <u>much</u> in life. Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> she had the preparation to get to the emotional place required for the role. After finishing <u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u>, Geena took acting classes where she was taught to <u>use</u> her emotions. This all clicked for her the day of the screen test. She was in just the <u>right</u> amount of emotion to do the screen test correctly. But, Geena was in a disastrous situation. Losing the feeling <u>instantly</u> and frantically trying to get it back. . .but it <u>wasn't</u> coming - and then Geena had an AH HA moment: She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u>. She went out and <u>nailed</u> the audition, and the call from Kasden said she had the part that would <u style="font-weight: bold;">change</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">her</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For <u style="font-style: italic;">The Accidental Tourist</u>, Geena made thousands of notes on the discussion of her character, Muriel Pritchett, that her script was <u style="font-weight: bold;">covered</u> with them. She was never to <u>act</u> out of the role. Geena was to be <u>prepared</u> to <u>become</u> her character. The director cared about <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> preparation to <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> inhabit Muriel. Geena was in awe of Kathleen Turner, who played the main character's ex-wife. Her resume by this point was <u>ridiculous</u>. Knowing her work up to this point, Kathleen was <u>clearly</u> a self-possessed person and <u>incredibly</u> glamorous for words. Geena invited her out for a drink to see if she had any advice. Geena'd <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">never</b> invited a superstar out for a drink before, but Kathleen was game. Kathleen showed up in full movie star mode. As they settled themselves, Kathleen ordered a shot of bourbon, lit a cigarette and in their conversation, Kathleen <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> herself to be the <u>total</u> bad-ass that she is.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Working on this film was one of those signal moments in Geena's career in which a role she was playing was leading Geena to personal growth in her off-screen life. Someone's take on the world is theirs; that didn't mean she had to mold herself into it. <u>That</u> was an astonishing moment for her. Geena spent her entire life walking on eggshells, subjugating her <u>own</u> wishes to keep the peace. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u> interested in pleasing other people.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-ggoqFsh08lfU5o9hB5vXABEOwcFEptc7YH2kI8UbICvrSqhaLbRsSSbzPlSYRekCwtHIGZxZzAm7E1jVilZqFS9pnaThMqT5bZVEqVbyXhaKp0sYC2rXLHkTYvKBRAKmucfB6JOQr58m2pEnvOybeDvN3uYsJXhEa1pBQWO60xx0HI5qo8mVbmkJCuj/s1890/main-qimg-f26a459f6030944b4f4e526d78309c9e.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1074" data-original-width="1890" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-ggoqFsh08lfU5o9hB5vXABEOwcFEptc7YH2kI8UbICvrSqhaLbRsSSbzPlSYRekCwtHIGZxZzAm7E1jVilZqFS9pnaThMqT5bZVEqVbyXhaKp0sYC2rXLHkTYvKBRAKmucfB6JOQr58m2pEnvOybeDvN3uYsJXhEa1pBQWO60xx0HI5qo8mVbmkJCuj/s320/main-qimg-f26a459f6030944b4f4e526d78309c9e.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Larry Kasdan</td></tr></tbody></table>Geena's self-effacement was <u style="font-weight: bold;">bone</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u>. That was <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> her way, but not <u style="font-style: italic;">Accidental Tourist</u> and continuously <u>less</u> in her life moving forward. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> to make this work. But, there were things Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> master to <u>perfect</u> her character. The costume designer put together an extraordinary and <u>very</u> <u>limited</u> wardrobe of clothes for her character to choose from. Larry Kasdan and Geena had a wonderful rapport and friendship. Out of <u>everyone</u> Geena's ever known, Larry was <b><u>the</u></b> person most likely to make her laugh. There was something about the way Larry delighted in the sense of humor that made Geena feel funnier than they realized. Her efforts to remain <u>unaffected</u> by working with a big star like William Hurt were working a little <u>too</u> well. One day, William had had <u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u>. He was having a pissy mood fit whilst Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> and <u>prompt</u>. She was <b><u>already</u></b> in awe of William's extraordinary ability, but now she felt she was being taken on as a partner. It ended up being one of the most fulfilling working relationships Geena's had. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJT9r12K9PHCQw5ffXLcvUEaLWucke1DIFgQAOlenrvJt_ErB2mYFADNg4Qhvjpq3fYuux7jboZRcl3boav7nExxzLctsqXwYICiMLT_SEO55MvaBWp-om4aGPs7w6p27FZI47oDj_A-BnXgK2y4andzNmeRwJfJLoXg06jPJ3EAGBVdfO2kBZEHJXAu_/s1438/A14995B5-E3D3-47F3-B9BE-D991A2A22DDE_1400x.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1438" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJT9r12K9PHCQw5ffXLcvUEaLWucke1DIFgQAOlenrvJt_ErB2mYFADNg4Qhvjpq3fYuux7jboZRcl3boav7nExxzLctsqXwYICiMLT_SEO55MvaBWp-om4aGPs7w6p27FZI47oDj_A-BnXgK2y4andzNmeRwJfJLoXg06jPJ3EAGBVdfO2kBZEHJXAu_/s320/A14995B5-E3D3-47F3-B9BE-D991A2A22DDE_1400x.webp" width="240" /></a></div>Geena was with Jeff in Japan when news came through. <u style="font-style: italic;">Excitement</u> abound. Larry Kasdan was nominated for an Academy Award, for both best picture <u>and</u> best screenplay. Geena was nominated for <u style="font-style: italic;">Best Supporting Actress</u>. She had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">let</u> these words <u style="font-weight: bold;">sink</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u>. Geena was 32-yrs-old, and this was her <u>first</u> nomination for <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. A year earlier, Geena was told she wasn't funny enough on the set of <u style="font-style: italic;">Earth Girls Are Easy</u>. Before even finding attire, Geena received a telegram of congratulations from Bruce Willis. She had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> had any association/communication with him before. No mutual friends. <u>Nothing</u>. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> that someone of Bruce's stature would take their time to send a telegram of <u>Congratulations</u>. Geena put it next to the message from Jack Nicholson. Her parents were <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thrilled</u> for the daughter's nomination, an added <u>bonus</u> was the movie's PG rating, meaning they could discuss it with their church circle. The six weeks between the announcement of the nomination and the <u>actual</u> ceremony were a whirlwind of excitement. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before you know it, it's Wednesday, March 9, 1989. You wake up early, and Geena's skin broke out in hives! She <u style="font-style: italic;">frantically</u> called her publicist who suggested an Epsom Salt bath; but Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hyper</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>to sit and soak, so she just went her skin and shook Epsom Salt on herself. <u>Eventually</u>, Geena calmed herself to ready herself. But, there was still time Jeff & Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> be there. The car arrived at 2P; so Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> it took <u style="font-weight: bold;">HOURS</u> to get there. So, she figured to eat something prior to departure. Accordingly, Geena covered herself in a big sheet and scarfed down a <u>huge</u> plate of pasta and watched TV while she ate.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And with that, Geena's <u style="font-style: italic;">nerves</u> went away. With the other nominations, Geena felt the <u>other</u> nominations being <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> good, there was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> she'd win.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YoZq4MMUFBVPiQAf1eSkALDWLFrHybvFBP8SJ7xZIgcnqHzPaANCqf5iAM3WTgwoGvW8k0lhEZDKZeRF0fGZsUaWwQPs4SROnrXlrtnpg9Y3TeHDzvA2JZl7QXGAWsGiWHUbtmC_Lr8_f_2-Nx1hABD3wzXdDP_cq3mDAecbCYd45PIzlepz2Lc1dqHR/s1200/80a50dba-aabe-41c5-8317-aca069a9cb94.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YoZq4MMUFBVPiQAf1eSkALDWLFrHybvFBP8SJ7xZIgcnqHzPaANCqf5iAM3WTgwoGvW8k0lhEZDKZeRF0fGZsUaWwQPs4SROnrXlrtnpg9Y3TeHDzvA2JZl7QXGAWsGiWHUbtmC_Lr8_f_2-Nx1hABD3wzXdDP_cq3mDAecbCYd45PIzlepz2Lc1dqHR/s320/80a50dba-aabe-41c5-8317-aca069a9cb94.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Now, there at the <u>actual</u> show, and Geena's catagory being the <u>first</u> award presented. Everything turned to a <u>slow</u> motion. Geena drifted over to the podium. She gave a speech in a quivering voice, and then her name was changed with her awards name in the title: <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Academy Award Winner</i><u>:</u><i style="text-decoration-line: underline;"> Geena Davis</i> for the rest of her life. Geena thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the evening. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</u> would ever be the same. Geena called her parents after the ceremony, and they were all beside themselves.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The morning after the <u style="font-style: italic;">Oscar</u> ceremony, the school staff where Geena's mom was an assistant had a surprise ceremony held in honor of her mother. On the back of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Oscar</u> win, Geena became a superstar in Wareham. She was asked to be the parade marshal for the town's 250th anniversary year - in 1989. Although Geena had won an <u style="font-style: italic;">Oscar</u>, she still had <u style="font-weight: bold;">plenty</u> of challenges that <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> her to <u style="font-weight: bold;">realize</u> she <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> hadn't been her <u style="font-weight: bold;">authentic</u> self. Life has a way of reminding you that the universe doesn't offer a <u>straight</u> line to fulfillment; there are setbacks, and it's how you grow from them that increases your ability to kick ass! Geena has had the association prior to the <u style="font-style: italic;">#MeToo Movement</u> as a test to see if she was easy to work with. She had just won the <u style="font-style: italic;">Oscar</u> and others thought Geena'd be difficult in post.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz7XWtZad6aNdpyGH-DHckLlIslSf9__D_UrivYsxnIEOojS8fl99KgUPgJo_GqERADgUIVD7oMxH3fIB_3NfnSug3p39Q0riUAObLm7Bb79Uo9CAA5eTiOde8aC8P6nWje8uCGYAMMGAFy_zqGnrYGlCt88jf-ks8Hbw-mPAmG1yi0Uuv7mp0ke4Stp9S/s600/Quick-change-1115l.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="600" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz7XWtZad6aNdpyGH-DHckLlIslSf9__D_UrivYsxnIEOojS8fl99KgUPgJo_GqERADgUIVD7oMxH3fIB_3NfnSug3p39Q0riUAObLm7Bb79Uo9CAA5eTiOde8aC8P6nWje8uCGYAMMGAFy_zqGnrYGlCt88jf-ks8Hbw-mPAmG1yi0Uuv7mp0ke4Stp9S/s320/Quick-change-1115l.webp" width="320" /></a></div>In the film <u style="font-style: italic;">Quick Change</u>, Geena played the main character's girlfriend. Sometimes what is written is how one sees it. . .you see it and portray it differently. . makes <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> the difference. But, things changed when affable, "<i>lovable</i>" Bill Murray came <u style="font-weight: bold;">raging</u> into her trailer, <u style="font-weight: bold;">violently</u> banging the door open. Roaring into Geena's ear from all over, dying from shame. It was <b><u>all</u> </b>a ruse to make <u>sure</u> Geena <b><u>knew</u></b> her place. But, things would change a year later. . .Geena met her "<i>Louise</i>" in the form of Susan Sarandon. And then <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">changed</u>! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Back in 1987, through friendships, and a word of mouth was something that <u style="font-weight: bold;">profoundly</u> changed Geena's life, career and even her <u>own </u> view of the world. All from mentioning a script called <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u>. <u>Every</u> actress in town was after that script. Geena's agent got her a copy. It was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEST</u> script she <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> read. It was smart, funny & <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u>. It was a story <u>about</u> women written <u>by</u> women. <u style="font-weight: bold;">TWO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u> female leads. The backstory to the movie was almost as <u>compelling</u> as the script itself. The author, Callie Khouri and good friend, Pam Tillis, were mugged one night. <u>Before</u> that, Pam was also mugged at gunpoint while being escorted to her car. This incident for the story became the catalyst for the origin story. The idea for the story came to Callie while driving to work <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">nowhere</u>. The director, Ridley Scott, saw the film as an epic odyssey. Ridley <u>understood</u> the film was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">major</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">statement</u> of female empowerment. Geena read the script and asked Callie if this <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> does happen to women?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> The roles of these characters were already cast by the time Geena read it: Holly Hunter and Frances McDormand were Callie's <u>original</u> thought process of the script. After the rights were sold to production, Jodie Foster and Michelle Pfieffer became the next pairing. Timing didn't work for <u>either</u> actress due to projects in the long run. Goldie Hawn and Meryl Streep were also in talks to play these characters, but Mrryl thought one of these characters <u>should</u> survive, on top of that. . . there were scheduling conflicts on both sides. Geena had her agent call Ridley's office 52x to confirm her <u>availability</u>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Geena knew an <u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> script when she read one and wasn't above pressing her case <u>tirelessly</u>. During that year, she prepped and was <u style="font-weight: bold;">insanely</u> fixated on it. Her acting coach convinced her that she was more aptly suited for the more jaded, more mature character, Louise. Director Ridley Scott <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> of Geena's longtime session with the film due to her <u>many</u> phone calls and agreed to a meeting. Geena laid out her stored-up, passionate arguments for why she <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolutely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> have this role, playing Louise. Ridley listened <u style="font-weight: bold;">intently</u>. He asked her opinion of playing Thelma. Geena had to think <u>quickly</u>. In her argument, Geena <u>listened</u> to reasons why she should play Louise. Ridley looked at Geena and just didn't seem right. Then, she inevitably made shit up in her argument for why she <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolutely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> play Thelma.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiFKYerqttDaOo3mF8dUF2Ks6JyZke5bp0u110MMZr3bXf4VnS-Clq6ApzBqXWgNXpT0XNsjvhPheMGS1soQkNtgJ2lSL1Q8XlWy60hxkFC9VOQQ5fHsP4s7YD6gnpaqhonqj-jOqgdOP5CFnJkRy3wcr8s4Jq67ecUXoExanMvORwf4XRIgkz-TQ3IkS/s3000/thelma-louise-30-year-reunion-Susan-Sarandon-Geena-Davis-Main-2.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiFKYerqttDaOo3mF8dUF2Ks6JyZke5bp0u110MMZr3bXf4VnS-Clq6ApzBqXWgNXpT0XNsjvhPheMGS1soQkNtgJ2lSL1Q8XlWy60hxkFC9VOQQ5fHsP4s7YD6gnpaqhonqj-jOqgdOP5CFnJkRy3wcr8s4Jq67ecUXoExanMvORwf4XRIgkz-TQ3IkS/s320/thelma-louise-30-year-reunion-Susan-Sarandon-Geena-Davis-Main-2.webp" width="320" /></a></div>In the end, Ridley cast her as neither as one of the ladies. Geena was <u>loosely</u> attached to the film for quite awhile, but there came a time - while Ridley was on a long exhausted search for the <u>perfect</u> person to play the <i>other</i> role. Geena's agent told Ridley that she would have to sign in to <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">that</u> movie unless <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">locked</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u> by the end of one <u>particular</u> week. Geena was taking a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> risk making an ultimatum, but it had to be done, and just before 5P on that Friday, Geena inked a deal to play either character. Ridley would decide depending who the other actor was. Geena was beyond thrilled. She was still pretty sure she could pull off either character . . . until Geena met her Louise. A woman that would <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> change Geena's life for the better. Susan changed Geena's life <b><u>more</u></b> than anyone else she <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u>. The <u>second</u> Geena met Susan, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">obviously</u> seen her Louise. From there, Geena was delighted to be Thelma. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Once Susan was cast, Ridley asked the ladies to meet him to hammer out the details. Geena wanted to extract her <u>own</u> philosophy: <i style="font-weight: bold;">The single point of life is to make sure no one has reasons to find you troublesome</i>. Geena tried multiple techniques to get his attention. This was where she was at as she was preparing for a role in what would become of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">greatest</u> feminist films of the last 30+ years. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> where Susan Sarandon at. As they went through the script on the first day, Geena was taken aback agape. Her jaw hit the floor. Susan went through <u>each</u> scene with confidence and ease. Ridley was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> unfazed. Geena had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> what she was walking into. Ridley engaged with Susan on <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> point, and when she pitched a whole new <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scene</u> she thought was necessary, Rodley agreed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37FUTPmEfNEloXpI_CSJKHHMZil1rWCgK-7sKzQRtKCwhzmHF9wFs_HnPQ9MRjxizrMjxRlFmeLZvLrKiQprlyRdW0tHYJg553mPexcrQn2_BVKJRJ-IFaAcdfRxierAZYZ9onpc_wNpwaUcWfxKsLUfI2NcqOQqpjJIYm9leLjscYrkefptz3z7o9SuC/s500/darryl-dickinson-7201888-normal.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="355" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37FUTPmEfNEloXpI_CSJKHHMZil1rWCgK-7sKzQRtKCwhzmHF9wFs_HnPQ9MRjxizrMjxRlFmeLZvLrKiQprlyRdW0tHYJg553mPexcrQn2_BVKJRJ-IFaAcdfRxierAZYZ9onpc_wNpwaUcWfxKsLUfI2NcqOQqpjJIYm9leLjscYrkefptz3z7o9SuC/s320/darryl-dickinson-7201888-normal.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> in that meeting that was <u>now</u> on a new planet. A new, exciting powerful planet with Susan Sarandon as Queen Bee. Geena was so long <u>condition</u> to think it was shameful to be seen/heard. Not Susan. She was a revelation. Susan personified just who was these women were. <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRONG</u> women! <u>Clearly</u> something was up, and this was to be a <u>whole</u> <u>new</u> experience for Geena. But, now the film needed the rest of the cast. Geena made a <u style="font-weight: bold;">BOLD</u> suggestion. Geena recommended her former fiance, Christopher McDonald, for the role of her asshole husband, Daryl Dickenson. Christopher showed up in audition in <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u> character. And <b><u>absolute</u>ly</b> nailed it. There were multiple reasons Christopher cracked the others up the other actors up when the cameras were rolling. Harvey Keitel <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> laugh in Christopher's company. The scene in the rainy garden and the way Chris says "<i>nutcase like that</i>" - was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> improvised. It was/is <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> hilarious. <u>Everyone</u> on-set burst into laughter. Harvey cracked up in <u>every</u> take. Christopher's fall in the beginning of the film after berating early workmen was also improvised. Blaming the crew wasn't in the script, giving the non-speaking actor a name, Homer, was improvised as well. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">With roles assigned to actors, all that was left to cast was the role of J.D., the drifter. Billy Baldwin had been <u>originally</u> cast but dropped out to pursue making <u style="font-style: italic;">Backdraft</u>. Ridley and the casting director wanted Geena to read with 4 candidates whom were up for the role at their auditions. One-by-one, they came into the room where Ridley, the casting director and Geena waited. Geena read with the first 3 and they were talented and handsome and perfect for the role. Geena had no preference. She would have been happy either way. Finally, the last auditioner walked in. Someone mentioned to Geena the name of a student of his whom she thought would be <u>perfect</u> for the role, and now <u>here</u> he was at the auditions. <u>From</u> <u>the</u> <u>second</u> Geena laid eyes on him, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> there was <u>something</u> special about him. Besides being stunningly gorgeous, this guy was <u>insanely</u> talented. After launching into the first audition, Geena realized she <u>hadn't</u> memorized the scenes intended.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEd2Sf8dAX66gHGrDXnReGTMed9ZTOxH-h_1_hMsd0ibPEtae_sFLhs7t5WrNs2RW7drnBQX-FOkusxnXFrHEtCQjRnKxRbOcqkjz4nCrBLn25jgc31XM5FpmznjxbaC8IUWSKLduGr8XuoJQOzlfErgDCDoLnL8Wojvv-aD6ksCc2AanbvYk0pf53doH/s400/89e095718dfb8bd4e67b409183cb84424e-25-brad-pitt-thelma-and-louise.rsquare.w400.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEd2Sf8dAX66gHGrDXnReGTMed9ZTOxH-h_1_hMsd0ibPEtae_sFLhs7t5WrNs2RW7drnBQX-FOkusxnXFrHEtCQjRnKxRbOcqkjz4nCrBLn25jgc31XM5FpmznjxbaC8IUWSKLduGr8XuoJQOzlfErgDCDoLnL8Wojvv-aD6ksCc2AanbvYk0pf53doH/s320/89e095718dfb8bd4e67b409183cb84424e-25-brad-pitt-thelma-and-louise.rsquare.w400.webp" width="320" /></a></div>When this actor said his lines, Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u> staring . . . Terribly embarrassed, Geena felt she was ruining this guy's audition. Eventually, they read the lines and he leaves. When they were making their decisions, Geena couldn't resist butting in. Ridley and Louis wondered Geena's opinion. She couldn't help but <u style="font-weight: bold;">loudly</u> state: The <u style="font-style: italic;">Blonde</u> one. It was pretty evident that Brad Pitt would've been chosen without help. Ridley was crazy about him from the start. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">uncomfortable</u> with the extent of skin she was asked to show - <u>unlike</u> in <u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u>, there wasn't going to be any underwear - so Ridley Scott found himself interviewing a slew of body doubles. After taking as much as she could, since she'd already worked as a model, she told Ridley she'd do it. Ridley seemed much more concerned about how <u style="font-style: italic;">Brad</u> looked than she did, making sure Brad looked just <u>right</u> with his abs personally sprayed with <u style="font-style: italic;">Evian</u><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>at Geena's <u>own</u> personal insistence. Brad, for his part, couldnt've cared less for his looks. Even a tiny pimple didn't matter. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On a day when they were filming driving across, they broke for lunch. Ridley <u>suggested</u> they do a topless scene from the car. Unable to say anything at all, even the simplest, Geena stammered in her answer, She ran off to find Susan, who was already eating. She told her of Ridley's request, Susan looked up from her lunch and thought. . ."<i>Oh, for Heaven's sake</i>". With that, Susan simply dropped her silverware onto her plate, stood up, and walked to Ridley's direction. Susan took a <u style="font-weight: bold;">stance</u> in defense of Geena; then going back to lunch. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u> was like that - a kind of reprogramming for Geena. Just to see Susan moving through the world was like learning a new language. Susan was <u>just</u> <u>herself</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>. Susan was <u>perfectly</u> <u>fantastic</u> to work with. Susan was <u>free</u> to speak up and her mind. The normalcy of it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">enlightening</u>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Aside from daily bad-ass tutoring from Susan, they had tremendous fun together making that film. They took various lessons which would better benefit them in the film. When it comes to the scene of taking shots, they asked the props guy to put a taste of booze in each shot they drank, to feel more realistic. After shooting <u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">scene</u>. . . .Susan & Geena were drunk. They giggled and realized they probably had 1/3 of a shot <u>each</u>; which sobered them up P.D.Q. For the scene in which Geena's character was <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hammered</u>, Susan taught her a super technique to acting drunk: Spin yourself around enough to make yourself dizzy; when you stop, you'll sway and falter in the way you do if you're drunk . . .the more you spin, the "<i>drunker</i>" you'll seem. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Speaking of getting drunk. during the scene when Thelma starts to <u style="font-weight: bold;">hysterically</u> laugh about the murder; until Louise cuts her off. . . <i>Thelma, that's <u>not</u> funny</i>. Geena wasn't sure she could laugh spontaneously; even if she could. So, she decided to <u>secretly</u> get drunk, hoping it would help. The props guys put some beers and a bottle of vodka in Geena's trailer, for which she went <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> into it. When they got in the car to shoot the scene, Geena leaned over to tell Susan, but <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> she <u style="font-weight: bold;">could</u> <b><u>do</u></b> was laugh <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> she <b><u>couldn't</u> </b> stop. Her trick worked! The <u>only</u> problem was that once that scene was shot, Geena had to put her ass to bed for the rest of the day. <u>Fortunately</u>, Ridley didn't care, the scene was/still is one of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">powerful</u> of the film.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1rzI7JlqqxKVaIA2yjq27nhPEq8-jcjQkpBi7yblRoUKfsWVuJk3a48C0PvuC7kSeXVFFXi03Eq4E-06gxIZ5bSB3Zu1WFl9kSY9KBj0SBXJWZLyBeTpvzVOYjimoJj8heQNCgauPMESfskOzvDhh-Y_wITx6BZSK1kKMO2ViDwQwWG-gH0Pq5K3FGWT/s600/rs_600x600-140619180537-600.Susan-Sarandon-Twitter.ms.061914.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1rzI7JlqqxKVaIA2yjq27nhPEq8-jcjQkpBi7yblRoUKfsWVuJk3a48C0PvuC7kSeXVFFXi03Eq4E-06gxIZ5bSB3Zu1WFl9kSY9KBj0SBXJWZLyBeTpvzVOYjimoJj8heQNCgauPMESfskOzvDhh-Y_wITx6BZSK1kKMO2ViDwQwWG-gH0Pq5K3FGWT/s320/rs_600x600-140619180537-600.Susan-Sarandon-Twitter.ms.061914.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Meanwhile, the scene in which Louise & Thelma blow up an oil rig tanker was a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">huge</u> deal to shoot. They only had one chance to get it right due to only <u>one</u> tanker at their disposal. Their reaction, due to one tank, was their <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> reaction for that event. They just stood there, utterly expressionless. Ridley came over and asked "<b><u>WHAT</u> <u>WAS</u> <u>THAT</u>?</b>" Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">honestly</u> didn't know how it happened. Maybe they <i>forgot</i> to react?. . .It was like they were watching it on TV. The <u>final</u> scene was the last one they shot for the <u><b>entire</b></u> film. They were on a tight schedule. Ridley was due to leave to go make a different movie, and the sun was going down. They had to nail that scene <u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">then</u><b>/</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>. Susan & Geena became <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">close</u> and this film had meant <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u>, and for the moment it all ended for <u style="font-weight: bold;">both</u> of the ladies and their characters. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejh4_ok-jZ1uGTLTpCDfPxefG9Hr5zzLL__TGVnaspr2kfKKrZj3BbIDJiHxZwCYGfJiknMVnMeCUfcj42u4krbwbsUwiqvRwdO_Oi3D_RbvJiFFw-pVPZhJQhGJJGtkedmJ8YBRlY90L0SHlk-WH6z2Re2wVMStJtIR94EDI1M-KO8JP04BHiBuRkwdQ/s527/1101910624_400.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejh4_ok-jZ1uGTLTpCDfPxefG9Hr5zzLL__TGVnaspr2kfKKrZj3BbIDJiHxZwCYGfJiknMVnMeCUfcj42u4krbwbsUwiqvRwdO_Oi3D_RbvJiFFw-pVPZhJQhGJJGtkedmJ8YBRlY90L0SHlk-WH6z2Re2wVMStJtIR94EDI1M-KO8JP04BHiBuRkwdQ/s320/1101910624_400.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>The end moment of it all at the end of the film was an emotion that Susan & Geena felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>. Instead, they turned to each other, said as little as possible. . . and Susan had the brilliant idea that they should kiss goodbye. This wasn't her <u>first</u> superb read: After Thelma slept with J.D., Louise was <u>originally</u> <u>supposed</u> to be mad at her the next morning in the diner, but Susan sagely pointed out that a real friend would be happy for her, hence the additional line of "<i>getting laid properly</i>". Then, the sun disappeared, and <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u> was a wrap. What came next surprised everyone! The movie was made with a low enough budget they were hoping people would go see it. They thought the film would ended up being viewed as an art house film at best. . .Little did they know the <u style="font-weight: bold;">impact</u> the film would make. As it happened, 2 weeks after it happened, Susan & Geena ended up on the cover of <u style="font-style: italic;">Time</u> magazine - and that issue included <u style="font-weight: bold;">2</u> editors about the film, both positive and negative. Some people loved it, others denounced it. Each side, whether good or bad, fell upon opposing sides of the political spectrum.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometime during the course of the making of the film, Jeff Goldblum and Geena's relationship decided to end it, but it was something she <u style="font-weight: bold;">terribly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">regretted</u>. Geena felt she should have given more time. Her time with Jeff was happiness. It truly was a magical time in her life. Before the film came out, if people who recognized Geena a lot wanted her to share her stories. Stories that changed their lives all around. Ever since then, Geena's made her acting choices with the women of the audience in mind, what would they think of her? If you set out to create a "<i>role model</i>" the character should have a few flaws. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The empowerment of this film brought Geena to the realization a <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">powerful</u> way how <u>rarely</u> women are given the chance to feel that way in film. Men can come out of almost every movie having identified with the led character or one of the <u>important</u> male characters and feeling empowered. Although <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u> kill themselves, they retain control control of their lives to the bitter end; they never give up being in charge of their own fate, once they experience <u>freedom</u>. Their charges were <u>their</u> choice. Deciding their <u>own</u> fate. This made Geena want <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> parts where her character decides her <u>own</u> fate/destiny. The director, Callie Khori, always had the <u style="font-weight: bold;">best</u> answers explaining the film to the press. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Proving</u> that <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u> were role models. <u style="font-weight: bold;">BAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ASS</u> role models.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4K7LibZYZUiehyphenhyphenckr9JfZMLDPFct1U29fWXaijPK1vOEmlmlLEXJBpEtc0GVdYdc_KXyF40gpwhDx9sPdv10Fbh0J0PaM1RfJNmZNhmKPulfb-dzT8WwLnbl5zPpeU6V5irswoZLNiviX7bfGL0Q8mGClZS8BfcUiM9ZN2L6rQzbhMqzcz5Lk9CLYerb/s343/unnamed.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="240" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4K7LibZYZUiehyphenhyphenckr9JfZMLDPFct1U29fWXaijPK1vOEmlmlLEXJBpEtc0GVdYdc_KXyF40gpwhDx9sPdv10Fbh0J0PaM1RfJNmZNhmKPulfb-dzT8WwLnbl5zPpeU6V5irswoZLNiviX7bfGL0Q8mGClZS8BfcUiM9ZN2L6rQzbhMqzcz5Lk9CLYerb/w140-h200/unnamed.webp" width="140" /></a></div>Thelma & Louise</u> premiered at the closing night of <u style="font-style: italic;">Cannes Film Festival</u> in 1991. Susan couldn't attend, so Geena & Ridley went, It was the <u>first</u> time European audiences were going to view it. Geena & Ridley were <u style="font-style: italic;">excited</u> for the post reactions, They kept looking around. . .concerned. At first, there was <u>complete</u> silence. That set in the worry. Then, came the scene where Louise shot the would-be rapist. . .and the audience <b><u>CHEERED</u> <u>&</u> <u>ROARED</u>!</b> That gave a standing ovation for the film. Everyone was nominated to their own work for an Academy Award, and Susan & Geena were <u>both</u> nominated for Best Actress, but Jodie Foster <u>won</u> that year for <u style="font-style: italic;">Silence Of The Lambs</u>. Before the awards were handed out, Susan & Geena were sitting next to one another. One vowed if one won, the other would join them onstage.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVokmOiAH7pUlEp_tvkoy2Jm2upEaKo-BFqwwsmWJXgDHh-3GVkmWzN04RA-0Wds_9Zq8Kg921TRuoaKgjuNuBzQhwd2ByXjxEID03-GlPAkoXdmedqDPGReJiIHgMbkjmf9IAmYMYRo4g_LT_v3QHTAa9Rdqyetc9y3er73KYz2Q4k-nv-8sohPvgWHHU/s1500/353058.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVokmOiAH7pUlEp_tvkoy2Jm2upEaKo-BFqwwsmWJXgDHh-3GVkmWzN04RA-0Wds_9Zq8Kg921TRuoaKgjuNuBzQhwd2ByXjxEID03-GlPAkoXdmedqDPGReJiIHgMbkjmf9IAmYMYRo4g_LT_v3QHTAa9Rdqyetc9y3er73KYz2Q4k-nv-8sohPvgWHHU/s320/353058.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Susan's actions were just another reason why Geena <u>loved</u> her so. <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u> became a <u style="font-weight: bold;">cultural</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">landmark</u>; it was hailed as a bright <u>new</u> beginning for film's starring ladies. They were unequivocal in predicting it would "<i>change everything</i>". Opening a door for future female buddy films. Geena couldn't believe it. She got to be a part of something that was to change for women. In the end, Hollywood may have changed . . . but Geena did. 25 years later, Susan & Geena the cultural impact is <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u> there.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When it came to learning and growing from the roles she's played, you can imagine what an extraordinary double-header it was making <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">A League Of Their Own</u> back-to-back. It was life changing enough to be in <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">one</i> film that struck a nerve, but to have her very next film become a cultural phenomenon caused a <u>tremendous</u> shift in her life. In particular days gone by, you don't think of the <u>lasting</u> impression films had. 30+ years ago, Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> thought how long movies she was in would live on, just about the same numbers of young ladies came to tell Geena the <u style="font-weight: bold;">impact</u> her films have made for <u>Generations</u>. Every time someone tells Geena that one of her films inspired them/their future, Geena took it in <u>gratitude</u>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuEwnmr1fLS8ZJRAYGrOCUcGlE6TFZx6Q1oxBYIhl4Wzpqws_6lgzVLvacgjgDrG2b9WSgHjeCNEJJvoKfSAaFsVm8ULfLGDjHJ1tIAMkSFQpy12P0FWnQySR_GSrHisNiiA4Jw5DeFJrdIEATIpKVgoT4hm_1U19Avl9_7-IYfCrr-l1-eixV5aRIaqp/s1532/81T8rMJH9mL._AC_UF894,1000_QL80_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1532" data-original-width="1179" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuEwnmr1fLS8ZJRAYGrOCUcGlE6TFZx6Q1oxBYIhl4Wzpqws_6lgzVLvacgjgDrG2b9WSgHjeCNEJJvoKfSAaFsVm8ULfLGDjHJ1tIAMkSFQpy12P0FWnQySR_GSrHisNiiA4Jw5DeFJrdIEATIpKVgoT4hm_1U19Avl9_7-IYfCrr-l1-eixV5aRIaqp/s320/81T8rMJH9mL._AC_UF894,1000_QL80_.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>When the chance to be <u style="font-style: italic;">A League Of Their Own</u> came around, Geena didn't hesitate for a second. She began playing catch with her first husband, Richard, on the beach in Montauk during their summer together, and he helped her to develop a good throw. She was sure that with training, Geena was sure enough to learn "<i>movie baseball</i>" to pull it off. Geena's developmental ability to stick to her guns was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tested</u> than during her meeting with director, Penny Marshall. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Whatever</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">she</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u>, her agent instructed Geena to <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> get suckered into throwing a baseball. <u>But</u>, just in case. . . <u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">prepared</u>. No problem. Geena was <u>recently</u> schooled in backbone by Susan Sarandon, not to mention, Thelma herself. She <u>purposefully</u> wore a miniskirt and spiky high heels, just in case, so there was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> Geena could go out on Penny's lawn and acquiesce. The meeting went fine. . .until Geena was prepared to leave, Penny asked her to throw a ball. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">prepared</u>. She stood <u style="font-weight: bold;">firm</u> in not doing so. A <u>full</u> 5 minutes went by before Geena knew it. She was out on the lawn throwing a fucking ball. Penny won that test of wills. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8NHGCC8poSh-3pjoktHamldUngSGXBSCDESmK2djKimm1m1uWh-914F1cXUeO_5Fq-qgBgpwMLoXWsQCezPLS2olIU1KmQgLFFyWoz2_l3SH4KRLrr0GZFSgrFH993ynjKEm-bRELDE-p2tcLg0Kh-4QZQ1E48OpbidSpEEkGPkoyFzcupidXKU0hx7O4/s800/Dottie-Hinson.A-League-of-Their-Own.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="800" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8NHGCC8poSh-3pjoktHamldUngSGXBSCDESmK2djKimm1m1uWh-914F1cXUeO_5Fq-qgBgpwMLoXWsQCezPLS2olIU1KmQgLFFyWoz2_l3SH4KRLrr0GZFSgrFH993ynjKEm-bRELDE-p2tcLg0Kh-4QZQ1E48OpbidSpEEkGPkoyFzcupidXKU0hx7O4/s320/Dottie-Hinson.A-League-of-Their-Own.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Geena successfully revealed herself to her wimpy pushover. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> that the shooting of the movie would be different. This little failure to remain strong would be an aberration; due to the success of <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Thelma & Louise</i>, after an <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> course of standing up for herself. Courtesy of Susan. Geena learned from her how to do it on her own. Making this film turned out to be a <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> milestone in her journey. After doing <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u> and feeling <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">empowered</u>, Geena slipped right back into a hefty amount of pressure, don't-stir-the-pot behaviour. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u> changing difference <u>now</u> was that Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> of herself doing so. A painful but enlightening step. Once she was cast, Geena wanted to punch Dottie up. Make her a little funnier. Everyone else in the cast was too funny; but it was hard to accommodate jokes for women. Geena suggested they write jokes as if she were Billy Crystal. But, jokes for her didn't materialize. So, Dottie wasn't going to be made for laughs. . .She was going to be someone with <u>quiet</u> strength; someone to <u style="font-weight: bold;">get</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">shit</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">done</u>. Years later, when Geena was going on <u style="font-style: italic;">The Rosie O'Donnell Show</u>, Rosie stated she was surprised at how little Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">actually</u> knew what she was doing when they were shooting the film. Rosie came to appreciate the calm nature of Geena's performance and began calling her "<i>Geena the machina</i>". Now her <u style="font-weight: bold;">biggest</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>challenge was learning how to <u>convince</u> movie-goers that she was the "<i style="font-weight: bold;">best baseball player that ever was</i>".</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Six weeks before the shoot (<i>and during the <u>actual</u> filming</i>), Geena was lucky enough to be paired with some big-time baseball coaches and <u style="font-weight: bold;">soaking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u> their expertise. Geena's body began to reflect her character's experience. The experienced coaches thought Geena had <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> untapped athletic ability. <u>That</u> was the <u>best</u> compliment she could have <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> gotten. This gave Geena the <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidence</u> to pull off playing the character, Dottie Hinson. . . Geena pulled it off <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u> well. A few years after <u style="font-style: italic;">League</u> came out, Geena was invited to play in an <u style="font-style: italic;">MLB</u> exhibition game - a <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> game with <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> players in <u style="font-style: italic;">MLB</u>. Geena thought they were insane to think she could possibly hit a <u>professional</u> pitch, no way was Geena going to ruin the reputation she now had of having <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> outsized skills.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4yi5Ot5GNUeA0zyGJLbJzKD9AN4SX6_OClPoGjL7uH5BTwBu0SUR58jJd3sAlKBtaHH8r04lVgwDoeH7J-46m78LGa8VBKm2BeIfYmyT8GeKUzVzZM7xjv5qOXYTOl0wCmr9qD2u04S0j2r_b1SXv0XoBglfWBG8Fqu-d_Ccpvqvo8TIK6xmGacImYyW/s640/8211984820-3554742900155895266390015589503598001vs.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4yi5Ot5GNUeA0zyGJLbJzKD9AN4SX6_OClPoGjL7uH5BTwBu0SUR58jJd3sAlKBtaHH8r04lVgwDoeH7J-46m78LGa8VBKm2BeIfYmyT8GeKUzVzZM7xjv5qOXYTOl0wCmr9qD2u04S0j2r_b1SXv0XoBglfWBG8Fqu-d_Ccpvqvo8TIK6xmGacImYyW/s320/8211984820-3554742900155895266390015589503598001vs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The kind townspeople in Evansville, IN came out in droves to play the fans in sweltering stands, despite heat and humidity. Sometimes, Tom Hanks & Rosie O'Donnell took it upon themselves to entertain them; Roise would do stand-up or get everyone singing and Tom would occupy the crowd; while hiding in the dugout. Tom would bring his 11-yr-old son, Colin. Colin figured out how to make a helmet out of a watermelon for the Roman Guard. After hair/makeup during the many weeks they shot baseball stuff, they'd hang out in their uniforms. This is where they <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> bonded, which was Penny's <u>goal</u> . . .everyone together and <u style="font-weight: bold;">equal</u>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Penny <u>clearly</u> knew what she was doing. They ended up going <u>months</u> over schedule. At one point, Geena had T-Shirts printed for the cast that said "<i>Free The Peaches</i>", which Penny rolled her eyes on. But, what Penny <u style="font-weight: bold;">mastered</u> in editing became something <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">lasting</u> for millions of women <u>everywhere</u>. One night, Penny had the idea to film the cast just playing a <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> baseball game - just playing and seeing if anything special happened. Filming that, they used up <b><u>ALL</u> <u>THE</u> <u>FILM</u> <u>THEY</u> <u>HAD</u>! </b>When Geena told Penny she'd like to come to the dailies, Penny declined as a way to make fun of how they play.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZukuGzcIl1Ce-HRi2-k7nFdf-4G3SPZYWRWqqWX6pLacMN6h_7u4vErHREZWjFkw-rtPzFGO3sE5Wt1V05JfBhD-4s1e4Q0wAtGL5-KOJFvg10_Fkrdak4WAHAlRzmCewzFir647w_S-2Ndwy1Fn_05C9uy6peYdrQwgm9qS3kXnT3lxeZxkDOcu4xPiD/s2560/c723c9150e977e25726f4459d24baa4d466f4ecc0d669e1c4fca8fa5ce94326e.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZukuGzcIl1Ce-HRi2-k7nFdf-4G3SPZYWRWqqWX6pLacMN6h_7u4vErHREZWjFkw-rtPzFGO3sE5Wt1V05JfBhD-4s1e4Q0wAtGL5-KOJFvg10_Fkrdak4WAHAlRzmCewzFir647w_S-2Ndwy1Fn_05C9uy6peYdrQwgm9qS3kXnT3lxeZxkDOcu4xPiD/s320/c723c9150e977e25726f4459d24baa4d466f4ecc0d669e1c4fca8fa5ce94326e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>About halfway through the shoot, Geena's parents came to Indiana to visit. . .which caused confusion on-set. Her parents stood out with their daughter in the dugout with her. They were confused for extras in the film. On another day, Geena and her dad had father/daughter time playing catch with one another. Something they've <b><u>never</u></b> done before. But, it was a <u>wonderful</u> time. When her parents were in Geena's trailer and Penny came to talk to her, Geena's mom <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> fangirled over <u style="font-style: italic;">Laverne/Shirley</u>. Penny was very sweet with her mom. Geena's parents were just beaming at her the whole time, <u>not</u> understanding a <u>single</u> word from Penny due to her <u>accent</u>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_RMDm02_ki6EOwsPKX_GoYJYieJZ1tNdbkRqj416mKg6eNGFDrf6nwrGb2IwI_1yMObKeBnu9lZuqIKQ1QnbNEcoQ_w7hqZvLYgL0zIrMUdEetH7hcUS6Ai5qxpwOrVetvBLqCrXk4vpA5DfwQsAHdFc5onpFiaNW-NGc1yTGqhMMw7K6ylrggqdNq8j/s1000/1-A-league-of-their-own-1.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="1000" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_RMDm02_ki6EOwsPKX_GoYJYieJZ1tNdbkRqj416mKg6eNGFDrf6nwrGb2IwI_1yMObKeBnu9lZuqIKQ1QnbNEcoQ_w7hqZvLYgL0zIrMUdEetH7hcUS6Ai5qxpwOrVetvBLqCrXk4vpA5DfwQsAHdFc5onpFiaNW-NGc1yTGqhMMw7K6ylrggqdNq8j/s320/1-A-league-of-their-own-1.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Very often during the shoot, members of the press would visit to do interviews on-set. Soon, answers became repetitive and spouting B.S. for amusement. Geena's answers led to the conclusion of feminism. When asked of her stance, Geena was <u>Honest</u>. For the '90s, the backlash against the women's movement was in <u>full</u> swing, and most people avoided using terms like "<i>feminism</i>". Geena's read plenty of articles denouncing that term to convince her to say it <u>unequivocally</u> and <u>often</u>. There was much camaraderie among the ladies; they <u>cared</u> about one another. The cast felt something similar to what the <u>original</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Peaches</u> did; bonded by an extraordinary experience they all shared. The cast is still very close <u>to</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>. Thanks to <u style="font-style: italic;">A League Of Their Own</u>, Geena found her sporting muscles. Playing a sport <u>dramatically</u> improved her self-image. It improved her self-confidence. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Proving</u> her athleticism. It pysched her up for <u>future</u> roles. Learn a trade for a role that would be even beneficial in her <u>personal</u> life.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEdEebhSUI8snkZUsn4ZxYW3DDMvHvxKoRe4swZnas5xrhctTvQ2wgBrQ2AOpBhaoOZ7XCupCUpPq9sisoTDpHKgQXaxEAOq_e9XIr6sXxHZ4HrsTzrPOwgDdQhwIgJ0YAlH5ALJ7rjbTgm3vPROailjTdHs92SjksmpH_EbzvmE2fbiFc0ewzAVc9rE8/s475/MV5BMTU4NTU0OTU3Nl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMDgzMzk4._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuEdEebhSUI8snkZUsn4ZxYW3DDMvHvxKoRe4swZnas5xrhctTvQ2wgBrQ2AOpBhaoOZ7XCupCUpPq9sisoTDpHKgQXaxEAOq_e9XIr6sXxHZ4HrsTzrPOwgDdQhwIgJ0YAlH5ALJ7rjbTgm3vPROailjTdHs92SjksmpH_EbzvmE2fbiFc0ewzAVc9rE8/s320/MV5BMTU4NTU0OTU3Nl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwMDgzMzk4._V1_.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>Sometime in the late '80s, the <u>minute</u> Geena wrapped <u style="font-style: italic;">League</u>, she was rushed off to Chicago to begin filming a <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">different</u> film, <u style="font-style: italic;">Hero</u>, with only 2 days off in-between. This was the <u>only</u> time in Geena's career where she knew she was headed <u>before</u> arrival. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> to be reunited with Dustin Hoffman. 10-yrs-later. They picked up where they inevitably left off from their <u style="font-style: italic;">Tootsie</u> days. He eventually coached Geena off-screen, made it <u>more</u> <u>alive</u> and spontaneous by not knowing what he was going to say. It was truly special that Dustin & Geena were able to help one another. But, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">furiated</u> and <u>confused</u> the director. In a scene involving onions, the night before filming it, Geena bought a whole bag of different types of onions and tested their cry volume. Next day, when shooting the scene. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> tears would flow. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</u> worked.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Geena <u>initially</u> accepted the role with the provision to change the ending scene to make Dustin's character who was the <u>HERO</u>! There was a meeting prior to accepting the role. Dustin <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> had Geena's back. Everyone left with agreed upon scenes to be rewritten. Geena didn't know to ask her agents to ask for it in her contract(s). By the time the shooting arrived, no rewrite had shown up. Geena would occasionally bring up the rewrite, but days/weeks passed to no avail. She had to <u>directly</u> speak with the director and he pacified to prolong change. Finally, the night before. . .</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Geena called the producer in a panic for the <u>new</u> script. The next day. . .</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Morning came. <u>No</u> rewrite. But, they couldn't find a rewrite that would work. Geena was <u style="font-weight: bold;">livid</u>. She would've turned it down if the ending hadn't changed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLv9AqvHGbY4xL7m9y7Gok1lLmrsdzQm0pB8IquOaLYTAY6lJthxzJpM59cG6Ar7eTqfT_rjwM8DIA6vltxkpEie0T04pADbHucQIfi2DNCWWDVkLIvZeR-YQaLvPzxGCaDd1VEYA-eDONayQN41duHNdwl0ko1n576HOjLNFvRuIhAKSbPMq6dZs6Dkr/s1137/s-l1200.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="1137" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLv9AqvHGbY4xL7m9y7Gok1lLmrsdzQm0pB8IquOaLYTAY6lJthxzJpM59cG6Ar7eTqfT_rjwM8DIA6vltxkpEie0T04pADbHucQIfi2DNCWWDVkLIvZeR-YQaLvPzxGCaDd1VEYA-eDONayQN41duHNdwl0ko1n576HOjLNFvRuIhAKSbPMq6dZs6Dkr/s320/s-l1200.webp" width="320" /></a></div>It <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> the scene. There was something <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIGGER</u> at play. Geena felt she was <u>expected</u> to be treated like her opinions weren't valued. Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> what she was doing at this point in her career. She had <u>no</u> <u>way</u> of knowing <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> what happened, but she <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> let it stand. Dustin, having agreed with her, emboldened Geena. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">stand</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">her</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ground</u>. The <u>best</u> that production could do was shoot the scene <u>both</u> ways. . .which meant using the <u>original</u> version in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">final</u> cut. This was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">strongest</u> stance Geena took in her <u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u>. Her stance led to production wrapping for the day. Geena was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shaking</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredibly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u>. But, she stood her ground. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> could take that away. 15 minutes later, Geena was given <u>praise</u> from her agent for standing up. A few days later, the scene was back on schedule. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">terrifying</u> way to make herself <u>heard</u>, but it worked. The studio wasn't bothered by it, because Geena worked for them on the <u style="font-style: italic;">Stuart Little</u> films. This experience got Geena wondering. . . </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>If she were a <u>man</u>. . .would this have happened</i>?</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfs18pMH3gnMoLj1_Y-BX6ZWYqPgiZ8C1nUjOxe8x_C6AQl0rpOz_B6ZrTAj6hZzLIyHd0Sa433hyNpoPcUocWCeXfU9X4-eRk53lZvUSyT7Z-cBMcbGzchXBSTGIl06ynXrnP_S4EtuBXzrnmiR_67MTZf_eMzp_r7sjctkIlLAZMUDp_1kTH31hLg5i/s384/Angieposter.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="259" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfs18pMH3gnMoLj1_Y-BX6ZWYqPgiZ8C1nUjOxe8x_C6AQl0rpOz_B6ZrTAj6hZzLIyHd0Sa433hyNpoPcUocWCeXfU9X4-eRk53lZvUSyT7Z-cBMcbGzchXBSTGIl06ynXrnP_S4EtuBXzrnmiR_67MTZf_eMzp_r7sjctkIlLAZMUDp_1kTH31hLg5i/s320/Angieposter.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>Geena had wanted to be in an action movie for a long time. One of her life's goal's is </span><u style="text-align: justify;">still</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> to be a kick-ass villain in a </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Marvel</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> film. She was </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">strong</u><span style="text-align: justify;">, capable and coordinated. The kick-ass part of her was </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">exploding</u><span style="text-align: justify;">. Even before </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">League</u><span style="text-align: justify;">, </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Thelma & Louise</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> gave Geena a taste of doing her </span><u style="text-align: justify;">own</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> stints </span><u style="text-align: justify;">physically</u><span style="text-align: justify;">. A thrill that she wanted </span><u style="text-align: justify;">more</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> of. Geena </span><u style="text-align: justify;">eventually</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> decamped in New York made </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Angie</u><span style="text-align: justify;">, and this character </span><u style="text-align: justify;">made</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> Geena want to justify her actions. She </span><u style="text-align: justify;">lives</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> to play characters whom are </span><u style="text-align: justify;">driven</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> by destiny; but </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Angie</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> became a </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">challenge</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> from the norm. Geena's parents came down from Massachusetts to visit in NYC. They </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">took</u><b style="text-align: justify;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">in</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> the surroundings of their daughter's workplace. In <u style="font-style: italic;">Angie</u>, Geena was finally able to exercise the Brooklyn accent she acquired from her first husband, Richard. Within segments of the film, <u style="font-style: italic;">Angie</u>, Geena wanted to explore playing a woman who makes <u>irredeemable</u> choices to redeem herself. In choosing her own path, you can find a way to come back <u style="font-weight: bold;">stronger</u><span>.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3yqC3GPfXCknJsleCHqXLKDbJB0iCshIpOoTwHmAdtL7WP7HJ_1u9i6OHr3W8ZWx26DViBp2mHDnyhidHx_PE0UJrB9_KPfHDbXonwsp0gZl9mqoY2ddfSbQlQ7qtss7uQhU05_ctdWTT5m0pu47RaQrUGMIpqtkifUB8dXTM_cHnkOBJK4G3Tgb7WTc/s300/p17530_v_h9_ac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3yqC3GPfXCknJsleCHqXLKDbJB0iCshIpOoTwHmAdtL7WP7HJ_1u9i6OHr3W8ZWx26DViBp2mHDnyhidHx_PE0UJrB9_KPfHDbXonwsp0gZl9mqoY2ddfSbQlQ7qtss7uQhU05_ctdWTT5m0pu47RaQrUGMIpqtkifUB8dXTM_cHnkOBJK4G3Tgb7WTc/s1600/p17530_v_h9_ac.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>Geena is a sushi gal; but nothing fanatic. (</span><i style="text-align: justify;">Salmon & Tuna</i><span style="text-align: justify;">). She always tried </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">so</u><b style="text-align: justify;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">hard</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> to avoid being big that someone with an outsized view of life inspired Geena in that direction. The irony is that everything that is wrong size appeals to her. With her accolades and success, spelling itself is </span><u style="text-align: justify;">not</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> her </span><b style="text-align: justify;"><u>strongest</u></b><span style="text-align: justify;"> forte. Production </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">knew</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Cutthroat Island</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> would go belly-up </span><u style="text-align: justify;">before</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> working on it. . .but was talked out of it. She was to receive $5million for the picture. The </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">HIGHEST</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> salary for any woman at that time. With everyone's work behind it and so much at stake, they </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">HAD</u><b style="text-align: justify;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">TO</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> make this film. Despite </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">wanting</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> to scream for the hills, Geena and everyone else </span><u style="text-align: justify;">loved</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> making this film. There was </span><u style="text-align: justify;">so</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><u style="text-align: justify;">much</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> fun to do. The experiences she took from making the film were ones that were useful in her </span><u style="text-align: justify;">personal</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> life. </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Cutthroat</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> came out </span><u style="text-align: justify;">only</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> 5 months after </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">Waterworld</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">TANKED</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> at the box office. Much </span><b style="text-align: justify;"><u>more</u> <u>attention</u></b><span style="text-align: justify;"> was now being paid for the </span><u style="text-align: justify;">cost</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> of films. Geena is a silver lining kind of person. The </span><u style="text-align: justify;">whole</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><u style="text-align: justify;">entire</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> experience was better when Geena was able to further help in the environment for the </span><u style="text-align: justify;">better</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> on-set. Something she took with her on future films/projects.</span></div><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCR8BtghYjJ_95hrMUUzOBGyhOKsiMVXgSOm7pDnypGxK4-jajCZEu_jIBJWemQicLT-319Uf3e1vHbvpEjAL2ix3lDWUiC6yaZa1zY4PhFcu6Pv3usgQxGwUUwpeBJXEr3Ij7FznQxolQfet7Y0pfRd55PvSkrljT40c5SyZQP-QNeGBkOuQyx6gE73n9/s920/png-transparent-honesdale-samantha-caine-the-long-kiss-goodnight-film-director-others-logo-united-states-film.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="518" data-original-width="920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCR8BtghYjJ_95hrMUUzOBGyhOKsiMVXgSOm7pDnypGxK4-jajCZEu_jIBJWemQicLT-319Uf3e1vHbvpEjAL2ix3lDWUiC6yaZa1zY4PhFcu6Pv3usgQxGwUUwpeBJXEr3Ij7FznQxolQfet7Y0pfRd55PvSkrljT40c5SyZQP-QNeGBkOuQyx6gE73n9/s320/png-transparent-honesdale-samantha-caine-the-long-kiss-goodnight-film-director-others-logo-united-states-film.png" width="320" /></a></div>Geena was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">opposite</u> of a sweet little lady in her next film; <u style="font-style: italic;">The Long Kiss Goodnight</u>, which was <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">away</u> from her previous project. <u style="font-weight: bold;">To</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>, <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Long Kiss</i> is the <u>best</u> film she <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> made. A close second to <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma</u>. 2 different characters in <u>one</u> character forum. The key was to keep both characteristic sides <u>plausibly</u> related. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">thrived</u> in the chaos of the prep for these films/characters. Giving herself a natural skill. The screenwriter for <u style="font-style: italic;">Long Kiss</u> reported that the script was <u style="font-weight: bold;">originally</u> written for a man; not a female. But, the lead <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> be a female. Geena wanted to give a woman character as <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> as they would a man. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUoAZnGX8l0blhyphenhyphenPt9wvpwPwYl1xHROa2U52tCCWGtyqqGd-cxHRDOt3nTPM7P18C7b9dIHEnOjmZp3ES2wH730xW-dzXXtBtOd6gr_2qnMiFzuw6sFPXAYoN7tjbuOF3AwJMcM-a-Pioxen-NokOvo9GTZiVVW0Vqhd58_GhuV3oWdTHGN5ozMQKgCdA/s327/Gijane.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="220" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUoAZnGX8l0blhyphenhyphenPt9wvpwPwYl1xHROa2U52tCCWGtyqqGd-cxHRDOt3nTPM7P18C7b9dIHEnOjmZp3ES2wH730xW-dzXXtBtOd6gr_2qnMiFzuw6sFPXAYoN7tjbuOF3AwJMcM-a-Pioxen-NokOvo9GTZiVVW0Vqhd58_GhuV3oWdTHGN5ozMQKgCdA/w134-h200/Gijane.jpg" width="134" /></a></div>Opposite of Geena in <u style="font-style: italic;">Long Kiss</u> was the wonderous Samuel L. Jackson. To this day, Samuel cites his character, Mitch Hennessey, as his <u>favorite</u> character he ever played. Samuel & Geena got along <u style="font-weight: bold;">famously</u>. They were <u>crazy</u> about one another. The character, Charley Baltimore was <u style="font-weight: bold;">tough</u>. Geena had the <u>honor</u> of being the <u>first</u> woman with this dialogue. Second to this was Demi Moore's <u style="font-style: italic;">G.I. Jane</u> - directed by Ridley Scott. For <u style="font-style: italic;">Long Kiss</u>, Geena did her <u>own</u> stunts for this film, including the waterwheel scene. She proceeds to give behind-the-scenes stories following the production of <u style="font-style: italic;">Long Kiss</u>. The film hit theaters 9 months after she turned 40. A year after the premiere, Geena filed for divorce from her husband. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">betrayed</u> her in one of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">painful</u> ways. Geena's <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelming</u> reaction was less to do with the <u>nature</u> of the betrayal than the <u>tremendous</u> feeling of loss. . It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">shattering</u>; but Geena soldiered through.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy61EtqGTX1HGEwnsJsjo4ttjEmadXLTiRqyuzq9FENOsbofdlEZDbIiQEKgfP_WN-sWhE5URZJSybKbdAfsyKvuH4psRfS4qU__QlKbZo6gMYBdxnShO0pl9Jh14CaXxSxiejjiYCKgSyvqs2NEfef4xzjO4U_lBfc6CxQul2_MUzkhhaSPIFllLCjsPx/s900/GettyImages-1065226834.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy61EtqGTX1HGEwnsJsjo4ttjEmadXLTiRqyuzq9FENOsbofdlEZDbIiQEKgfP_WN-sWhE5URZJSybKbdAfsyKvuH4psRfS4qU__QlKbZo6gMYBdxnShO0pl9Jh14CaXxSxiejjiYCKgSyvqs2NEfef4xzjO4U_lBfc6CxQul2_MUzkhhaSPIFllLCjsPx/s320/GettyImages-1065226834.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>As she moved on, Geena <u>sees</u> her <u style="font-weight: bold;">gratitude</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">luck</u> in the roles she's had. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> aggrieved to find the work for which she <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> loved with great passion; it became harder to come by past a certain age. When Geena would watch the <u style="font-style: italic;">Oscars</u>, every year <u style="font-weight: bold;">ICONS</u> seemed to be working all the time. After Geena turned 40, like everyone else, she faced a downturn in the number of roles she was being offered, and the quality of them. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">devastating</u>. She wanted to do more of a job she lived for, not less. Geena found herself turning down roles she <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> wasn't right. Situations the script put her in decided the fate on Geena's decision. She always waited for the <u>next</u> <u>great</u> thing to come along. There was a time when it <u>did</u> come. But, this gap was becoming worrisome. 3 years.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Geena was <u>usually</u> averaging herself 1 film a year. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">WANTED</u> to work. (<i>She wouldn't be the <u>first</u> Davis to <u>publicly</u> lobby for work</i>.) But, she did find something else to obsess over.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgr-Me7LhB4Fwp8IAu6fDgWD1y8BJMmleZ8U2iwHw0JxihcWHANElx4cIPuRr_s1zBojXfmGMFO7-TV9p3dHsmO7Tc741OX-J10IpA7V7aQkcvf4NEN6iUroaWoWxYF5LSF9pIE9lTknx4V3ZRqLAVg9LCrAzGJQDn0MvS6pR3pjcG6ZM9zCES_MoQRbe/s1500/geena-davis-archery-5d0e108851084653a9ab1b7697dcc1f7.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="962" data-original-width="1500" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgr-Me7LhB4Fwp8IAu6fDgWD1y8BJMmleZ8U2iwHw0JxihcWHANElx4cIPuRr_s1zBojXfmGMFO7-TV9p3dHsmO7Tc741OX-J10IpA7V7aQkcvf4NEN6iUroaWoWxYF5LSF9pIE9lTknx4V3ZRqLAVg9LCrAzGJQDn0MvS6pR3pjcG6ZM9zCES_MoQRbe/s320/geena-davis-archery-5d0e108851084653a9ab1b7697dcc1f7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After learning lots of sports/skills for film roles, Geena wanted to learn <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u> athleticism and learn sports the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> way. When <u style="font-style: italic;">Long Kiss</u><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><u>finished</u> in May 1996, Geena took the time <u>off</u> to excel in her athleticism. She began to <u style="font-weight: bold;">notice</u> the men's athleticism being <u>popularized</u> through <u>men's</u> archery competition on TV due to <u>men's</u> dominance. This seemed spectacularly cool to her and sparked an idea in Geena: Her free-time would be spent <b><u>mastering</u></b> the craft. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">instantly</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> hooked. Learning it to a level that she <u>eventually</u> did give her a sense of <u>confidence</u>. She learned the basics of technique but equal emphasis on the mental game. She can't emphasize how <u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> archery was in unquelling her hypercritical <u>never</u> voice.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTLIFV24qAF27n8x1p5sOshToSJ_O-K2yHqK0VRFFSOIvmNDtOkUGolnT14-8-_wBeHIPWMKn1R9-6P4a9hy0y46UAl91CNpYZotE_AlVoy8SenPqYQQFOJ2q7bvNZ_a1RaESCkntnr0l-Yxt4xYUE0BczVP8sLVyHhHQJ7lPGQkKnZqlTFtJJdirbP88/s1000/91ktNjBTa2L._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="1000" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTLIFV24qAF27n8x1p5sOshToSJ_O-K2yHqK0VRFFSOIvmNDtOkUGolnT14-8-_wBeHIPWMKn1R9-6P4a9hy0y46UAl91CNpYZotE_AlVoy8SenPqYQQFOJ2q7bvNZ_a1RaESCkntnr0l-Yxt4xYUE0BczVP8sLVyHhHQJ7lPGQkKnZqlTFtJJdirbP88/s320/91ktNjBTa2L._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In the midst of archery chaos, after a 3-yr-film drought, Geena was offered something <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u>. The role of Eleanor Little, mother of <u style="font-style: italic;">Stuart Little</u>. Talk about varying character roles. The film was <u>well</u> <u>written</u>; when you consider the author itself - E.B.White. Geena began to detail the <u>oddness</u> in making both films and the hopes of continuing the franchise. With Halloween approaching during the making of the film, Geena <u>craved</u> mastering the art of pumpkin carving. . . Whatever it was there was to <u style="font-weight: bold;">master</u>. . . .Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> a <b><u>challenge</u></b>, and <u><b>needed</b></u> things to be <u>difficult</u>. Thanks to a new therapy and a <u>learned</u> diagnosis of ADD. Everything about it holds your feet to the fire to be able to fully engage. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Learning Geena had A.D.D., it <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> rocked her world. <u>Everything</u> in her life began to make sense. This diagnosis created a <u style="font-weight: bold;">tremendous</u> sense of <u>relief</u> in Geena. She <u>now</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">understood</u> the torture she put herself through to <u>not</u> be able to accomplish <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u>. The revelation came with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> sadness, for not being diagnosed earlier. (<i>Just as no one knew that Geena's brother, Dan, had dyslexia</i>). Her therapist compared people with her type of A.D.D. to lions. But, unlike a lion, Geena was training 4hrs/day, 6 days/week and shooting more than 4,500 arrows a month. She finished 29TH out of 300 at the National Championships in July 1999. That elevated her to the Olympic trials semi-finals. If a human being could do it and succeed, she could do it. Little did she know, a huge, unexpected thrill was coming her way. </span><span style="text-align: justify;">Geena was invited to participate in the </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;">2000 Summer Olympics</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> in Sydney. She </span><u style="text-align: justify;">earned</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> her way up onto the Jumbtron. She had turned herself into an </span><u style="text-align: justify;">actual</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> athlete with her "</span><i style="text-align: justify;">real life</i><span style="text-align: justify;">" port. Geena made </span><u style="text-align: justify;">peace</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> with her ADD diagnosis.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqfz1Hr8N1VZNWDjnwWPH0iLeuI4dysD3yRhF5D3Ka0f57jIlQGYqi81GbtZdC5fwHrmOmTtdc0F3YcdYWUrV7EYSlxwRd2zSsc1GuPptp-5JFjLPFmS43Cq9oAS4D9yBs4Zua-0CEG5xDQBG4S12W7KxGyrLCKfYbF-kKxtsw0WhaaXZhS8Du30Q-TZj/s1500/geena-davis-children-Kaleidoscope-5-101922-bf5121446cf1492cb67d24fa8e4c93ef.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqfz1Hr8N1VZNWDjnwWPH0iLeuI4dysD3yRhF5D3Ka0f57jIlQGYqi81GbtZdC5fwHrmOmTtdc0F3YcdYWUrV7EYSlxwRd2zSsc1GuPptp-5JFjLPFmS43Cq9oAS4D9yBs4Zua-0CEG5xDQBG4S12W7KxGyrLCKfYbF-kKxtsw0WhaaXZhS8Du30Q-TZj/s320/geena-davis-children-Kaleidoscope-5-101922-bf5121446cf1492cb67d24fa8e4c93ef.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In her 40s, Geena was able to establish herself as a mother of 3. Her <u>favorite</u> role of all. The press <u style="font-weight: bold;">inadvertently</u> and <b><u>nicely</u></b> asked how: Natural or in-vitro? Answer being the latter. Given the explanation that due to her expectation as an actor, Geena should naturally share every detail of her life. She was <u>weary</u> to share <u>details</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. Geena <u>values</u> privacy. She has a daughter and twin sons with her ex. . .their dad, Reza Jarrahy - an extremely gifted, and compassionate surgeon. An <u>excellent</u> choice for a father. When her daughter was a toddler, Geena decided she wanted the data on one <u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">specific</u> thing: How many <u>female</u> characters were there in film/TV made <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">specifically</b> for KIDS? When her daughter was 2, Geena sat down with her to watch her <u>very</u> <u>first</u> children's show. Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> she'd developed a sense of women's representation over the years. She was <u>floored</u> to see the male/female character ratio. In a show designed to educate young minds; Geena <u>seen</u> these shows gender stereotyping these characters. In <u>almost</u> everything they watched.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">In the beginning, Geena <u>didn't</u> <u>expect</u> it to take over her life. She checked with her mother's friends to see if they'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> Geena's discovery. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> of them noticed. She points out that if we're to achieve <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u> equality, one should outweigh the other. So, Geena decided to bring it up with people in her industry. Their response was to name a film with 1-to-2 female characters to <u>silence</u> questions. Insinuating that gender inequality was a thing of the past. No one took Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u>. They <u style="font-style: italic;">thought</u> they <u>had</u> done it right. She wondered <u>HOW</u> could they <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> notice the huge gender imbalance. Now, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> she <u>needed</u> the numbers. This took her life in an <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">new</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>direction, which Geena <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> would have anticipated. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Geena became a middle-aged data geek by sponsoring the <u style="font-weight: bold;">largest</u> research project ever undertaken on the representation of female characters in kids entertainment - which took <u>2</u> <u>years</u> to complete an <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">extensive </b>testing. Due to outcome from that testing, that's why Geena chose to <u style="font-weight: bold;">focus</u> on what kids see <u>first</u>. Don't create a problem that needs to be solved later. Geena's plan was to ask the maker's of said entertainment, and share with them in a very private, collegial way. She had everything primed for the possibility of opening eyes could bring about <u>unified</u> change. Reactions were <u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u> than hoped. The great thing was that Geena's plan was working. Her data was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">KEY</u> to making change. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRoogTAz_Z4aYHoTPFO3GSIE6sY-LnqqsDcO5ti11_Ce-kHrq23DK9tcZsyxu2k_WdVczaChQRv3vxljyVBFn4X3h9ym5kw68pJMH7U-hr9YDcSfuVXzfI8s7rcz42viiTXL-GfVyQClSKvwYjpLGDEMC_Ck-lXIyCOJ6pcm4Qtgo7QLTYb90_JCQJjDzj/s1275/download.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="1275" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRoogTAz_Z4aYHoTPFO3GSIE6sY-LnqqsDcO5ti11_Ce-kHrq23DK9tcZsyxu2k_WdVczaChQRv3vxljyVBFn4X3h9ym5kw68pJMH7U-hr9YDcSfuVXzfI8s7rcz42viiTXL-GfVyQClSKvwYjpLGDEMC_Ck-lXIyCOJ6pcm4Qtgo7QLTYb90_JCQJjDzj/w200-h133/download.png" width="200" /></a></div>In turn, <u style="font-style: italic;">The Geena Davis Institute On Gender & Media</u> has become the go-to resource for research and insights into onscreen bias in global family and entertainment and media. For this work, Geena was honored to receive a second <u style="font-style: italic;">Academy Award</u> in 2019, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Jean Herschott Humanitarian Award</u> for her work. Geena soon initiated a film festival called BFF: <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bentonville Film Festival</u>; a <u>perfect</u> location for something like this. The festival is <u>solely</u> dedicated to championing women and diverse voices in front of <u>and</u> behind the camera. Including a segment where Geena and her actor friends re-inact <u style="font-weight: bold;">classic</u> move scenes <u>orignated</u> by an all-male cast entitled <u style="font-style: italic;">Geena & Friends</u>. Flipping the entire dynamic on its head: expanding minds along the way,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Geena's theory and mindset to invoke change is: one catagory of gross <u>inequality</u> in American culture where the under-representation of women <u>can</u> be fixed <u style="font-style: italic;">overnight</u>: On-screen. In the time it takes to create a <u>new</u> television show or movie, they/we can <u>change</u> the <u>future</u> through what people see. If you can see it; you can <u>be</u> it. She had long told her agents that she <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> wanted to do an hourlong TV show. It's <u>generally</u> thought of as the <u style="font-weight: bold;">toughest</u> lifestyle in Hollywood for actors; so her plan was to stay <u>far</u> <u>away</u>. Or so she thought . . . </span><span style="text-align: justify;">One day, when Geena was 49, her agent informed her of the TV show. She was </span><u style="text-align: justify;">genuinely</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> appreciative.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNDfiEiMZMjEaCzwoaYzhJKAw9L9Qzw2Wj42EApU2y52c3fA3J8jFOnY466jJ1TYTWaPKjni1c-SuxXIDH_EGSw62Y9uveJ_opfoQ_7juuqQPJ1Tn4x_1ANMVBkwXuWCB-jghVCQWobzIES3M26wia7R1yj2mJu4snXu1JRb3HzSbHuduFlElYWfr_X629/s445/Commander_in_Chief_TV_Series-894106070-mmed.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNDfiEiMZMjEaCzwoaYzhJKAw9L9Qzw2Wj42EApU2y52c3fA3J8jFOnY466jJ1TYTWaPKjni1c-SuxXIDH_EGSw62Y9uveJ_opfoQ_7juuqQPJ1Tn4x_1ANMVBkwXuWCB-jghVCQWobzIES3M26wia7R1yj2mJu4snXu1JRb3HzSbHuduFlElYWfr_X629/w135-h200/Commander_in_Chief_TV_Series-894106070-mmed.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>This was 2005. Geena was preparing to play the POTUS in <u style="font-style: italic;">Commander-In-Chief</u> for <u style="font-style: italic;">ABC</u>. This was a role of a lifetime. The script was genius and a stellar cast. Female representation at its <u>highest</u> level. Ever since, <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u>, the issue of women's representation was at the <u>forefront</u> of her mind. A very <u>significant</u> role, and not only for her. Whenever Geena was between jobs, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> something <u>great</u> was on the horizon - and something <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> did. This was a truly <u style="font-weight: bold;">groundbreaking</u> role. She could <u style="font-weight: bold;">make</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">work</u> with 3 small children. Geena found it <u style="font-weight: bold;">profoundly</u> fulfilling to be on that show. They were #1 for the season <u style="font-style: italic;">Commander</u> was nominated for a Golden Globe, which she won for <u style="font-style: italic;">Best Actress in a Drama Series</u> in January. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITIrlosLHOGxYawu8wb-sx5UBlgj7Uh00vzIpgWQEjzZoDogd6v-3yi-I47AIUPUoJjFQMqSIu7wtmPJoYDw-2WizBeGI-9NBfTgEo-H_knfTKXjXYvLxY1421iaW9sQSjH1VdrFRQ14MLfZrp87JcS1DziMTnCOnrKe042A6T6VHCyP47nnlYxo0RLwb/s400/commander-in-chief_l-e6d16c670e0d4921a7313b731175cbb5.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITIrlosLHOGxYawu8wb-sx5UBlgj7Uh00vzIpgWQEjzZoDogd6v-3yi-I47AIUPUoJjFQMqSIu7wtmPJoYDw-2WizBeGI-9NBfTgEo-H_knfTKXjXYvLxY1421iaW9sQSjH1VdrFRQ14MLfZrp87JcS1DziMTnCOnrKe042A6T6VHCyP47nnlYxo0RLwb/w200-h150/commander-in-chief_l-e6d16c670e0d4921a7313b731175cbb5.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>People loved <u style="font-style: italic;">Commander</u>. The ratings were good. They were rewarded for their success. However, something <u style="font-weight: bold;">huge</u> happened partway into the season. The creator of the show was <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> removed. Geena was <b><u>absolutely</u> </b><u>stunned</u>. It had to do with a turf war between <u style="font-style: italic;">Touchstone</u>, the studio and <u style="font-style: italic;">ABC</u>. A new showrunner, Steven Bochco, was hired on, Geena had the idea to take him to lunch. She thought he wanted to take over the show. It <u>wasn't</u> like that. A <u>new</u> character was added to the cast/story, a campaign strategist. The blessing was Mark-Paul Gosselaar. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuine</u> delight to work with. However, despite Geena's compliation to be unfairly kind, she felt for the reason to prank him on his <u>first</u> day. The plan was to tell Mark-Paul that Geena was <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">always</i> in character. Geena felt <u>evil</u>. With a plan intact. . .<u>everyone</u> in the cast except Mark-Paul was involved. Everything was going according to plan. <u>But</u>, apparently, he called his wife the first chance he got and <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> of the character plan.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Despite multiple attempts for <u>survival</u>, <u style="font-style: italic;">Commander In Chief</u> was cancelled. Geena kept her composure together. She took the <u style="font-weight: bold;">deepest</u> breath possible, went off the stage, gave a speech and walked off. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">devastated</u> to think about telling others that night.She <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> that character. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> that show. The audience <u style="font-weight: bold;">l</u><u style="font-weight: bold;">oved</u> it. But, more <u style="font-weight: bold;">importantly</u>, they brought representation to a <u>new</u> high for women. Then, it was all taken away in an <u>instant</u>. There was no way to think something better would come along. This was was to be that <u style="font-weight: bold;">something</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u>. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> to Geena. The pain of losing it, after pinning <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of her hopes/dreams on it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">unbearable</u>. The loss felt like something tangible. The cancellation of the show - in other words, the brevity of her administration - seen her carry that absence for <b><u>years</u></b>. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhM1jRT4a81NGqg4dQPPIrREqItzB5IdEB1-amMJis0Bb6w1zuo1jmTb71pR4VyNowODrgr9Okr3ap_YV_Ohj2VkA26T6SxVXUnGSZ1BRahQGbzbmRz8g3bShJ5gJpkGbOHrOFerjENt1_stv4ELbkP3FaYsJ3mlTTDyXannT5kSfsQxzVTBp9zI4g8y_b/s694/geena-davis-bentonville.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="694" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhM1jRT4a81NGqg4dQPPIrREqItzB5IdEB1-amMJis0Bb6w1zuo1jmTb71pR4VyNowODrgr9Okr3ap_YV_Ohj2VkA26T6SxVXUnGSZ1BRahQGbzbmRz8g3bShJ5gJpkGbOHrOFerjENt1_stv4ELbkP3FaYsJ3mlTTDyXannT5kSfsQxzVTBp9zI4g8y_b/s320/geena-davis-bentonville.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Geena <b><u>truly</u></b> inherited her father's can-do spirit. She could <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> do anything. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> thing to care for is a parent that you slowly see diminishes in <u>front</u> of you from the person you know. Geena describes the <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> details of these events for <u>both</u> parents. Having been <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">closely</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">intently</u> involved with their care, she couldn't seem to let go. Even in her dreams. She's still working hard for what she set out in life to do: close the gap between when something happens and when it happens <u style="font-weight: bold;">authentically</u>. It might be a challenge, but she's gotten <u>profoundly</u> better at it. Nowadays, Geena feels <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> in the charge of her <u>own</u> destiny, ready to take on the world. Despite <b><u>everything</u></b>, Geena can only <u>claim</u> to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">working</u> on being a <u>full</u>-<u>time</u> badass like <u style="font-style: italic;">Thelma & Louise</u>; it <u>doesn't</u> matter which.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXVmgvGHu-It_qseLdz5QaxX8oCzuHZzIta5Ffp00BRXsOkVglL_QtWUgjx6wMt_OERTB1bH22FsX8_nAFAP8gsGAMuY-n-leZMVcugbgqWZrt7uREEOWlzzB74w-PO7pYjYkcRgeS_dBpUW9jU70ePSRKspjTU8sA75WCE26Hxuuehzl2XvIdzvCppGO/s1080/430174734_7472297166147387_2729796024332655268_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXVmgvGHu-It_qseLdz5QaxX8oCzuHZzIta5Ffp00BRXsOkVglL_QtWUgjx6wMt_OERTB1bH22FsX8_nAFAP8gsGAMuY-n-leZMVcugbgqWZrt7uREEOWlzzB74w-PO7pYjYkcRgeS_dBpUW9jU70ePSRKspjTU8sA75WCE26Hxuuehzl2XvIdzvCppGO/w400-h400/430174734_7472297166147387_2729796024332655268_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-62593122127069145602023-11-15T21:00:00.000-08:002023-11-15T21:00:00.129-08:00Letters To A Young Poet<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yugDBGCkeK0EeHGmoyTqpzQE3fcqvE_ZAkWwbjKW4ki1f7I_msZqb9VRvKMpBl4KeSRVruBB_9djcd5UCLNaLRqaW0nNocKmoQoMCtAZ2GrKrYqITxU2pQS0RD1vD3YdrFXOOqwGx-ZgEfuqgZLfWPVcGF_0BI9cxzYtAaNazduKUnjDcCBAsKbZZvza/s821/61bO3n19sgL._SY522_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="549" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3yugDBGCkeK0EeHGmoyTqpzQE3fcqvE_ZAkWwbjKW4ki1f7I_msZqb9VRvKMpBl4KeSRVruBB_9djcd5UCLNaLRqaW0nNocKmoQoMCtAZ2GrKrYqITxU2pQS0RD1vD3YdrFXOOqwGx-ZgEfuqgZLfWPVcGF_0BI9cxzYtAaNazduKUnjDcCBAsKbZZvza/w268-h400/61bO3n19sgL._SY522_.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>   A young man <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> passionate about the art of writing writes to a professional; the author of this <u style="font-weight: bold;">GLORIOUS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REMARKABLE</u> book, for advice on how to approach becoming what the author has become. So, the young man asks for <u>guidance</u>. The author states it <u>simply</u>. . . .<p></p><p>Don't ask me about the art in which we share. If it's your <u style="font-weight: bold;">passion</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> you know how to do . . . you'll do it. This book is the methodology of how he got there. </p><p>It became a <u>regular</u> correspondence between the fan and the author that lasted until 1908 and then <u>gradually</u> petered out until the author found <u>their</u> <u>own</u> voice in life and in writing. It wasn't so much a collection to read. . . .but only a sampling to which to inspire and understand the writer's worldview.</p><p>The writer asked for <u>approval</u> from <u>others</u>. Sending her work out to various magazines and other outlets that would listen. Looking outward for <u>approval</u> without looking within yourself. Search for a reason that bids you to write. Do you <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> it and what to do if it's <u style="font-weight: bold;">denied</u>? Go into yourself. Search for the reason that causes writing. Delve <b><u>deep</u></b> for a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> answer. If you <u style="font-weight: bold;">must</u>. . . build your life around the <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">necessities</b>. Then draw yourself to the nearest of what comes naturally. Use what life has to offer you. Work in quantity and grow from <u>there</u>. Save yourself from <u>everyday</u> norms. A work of art is good if it springs from <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessities</u>. <u>Therefore</u>, going into yourself and testing the <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeps</u> in which your life takes <u>rise</u>; and so if there's no answer. . . create one. Accept it without inquiring into it.</p><p>Lettering correspondents that deliver a source of inspiration. Various letters unique to each their own predicaments and solutions that leave a trail for thought. What you see as a setback is another eye sees as an opportunity. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Remarkable</u> responses with a lesson on surviving as an observer in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">cruel</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">harsh</u> world.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This book is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">timeless</u> lesson for <b> </b><u>Generations</u>. . . </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZO__AscuGmifg-MWTwv6dR17ilQ_6DuDmdduWdDlH5-Qcdk56jT18r01kIJvgsX8NSeDn1vesR1nA8bqz0SIFOMRW4VjqhJngKO6Bsh9kbM5DvVleIYhLjUdjDzt7I7fis83eaT_srNV1z7FvbyRsWPntJqO3DSwRxGIhg2pdrm2-YlsxwuWBXoFDQB8r/s1259/HrHycBniXPuINzLiXrTHmwz3wiC6ewlqa1VaW0VkzDY.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1259" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZO__AscuGmifg-MWTwv6dR17ilQ_6DuDmdduWdDlH5-Qcdk56jT18r01kIJvgsX8NSeDn1vesR1nA8bqz0SIFOMRW4VjqhJngKO6Bsh9kbM5DvVleIYhLjUdjDzt7I7fis83eaT_srNV1z7FvbyRsWPntJqO3DSwRxGIhg2pdrm2-YlsxwuWBXoFDQB8r/w640-h406/HrHycBniXPuINzLiXrTHmwz3wiC6ewlqa1VaW0VkzDY.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-4428744929186474802023-11-09T14:40:00.001-08:002023-11-09T14:40:00.138-08:00Spare <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFX5zRxrIncvzzSGp0SLr2Vvtw9_Wjzj85ST_kEnDYPsl8rMV5wjf_cYJgX0q4aN7h7EIYgQqvMhmYLMuGTWqWvPbL9rZ4jP2OP19Hr4xMQeTEhVMRl2MRY4YgnoRuo9Khoyx-ie2c8g3nrFBAgmZYLzZetOgaL_I8tHlmnmkNUY5y97gXF2OL-NvAYw/s500/0593593804.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_SX500_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="329" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFX5zRxrIncvzzSGp0SLr2Vvtw9_Wjzj85ST_kEnDYPsl8rMV5wjf_cYJgX0q4aN7h7EIYgQqvMhmYLMuGTWqWvPbL9rZ4jP2OP19Hr4xMQeTEhVMRl2MRY4YgnoRuo9Khoyx-ie2c8g3nrFBAgmZYLzZetOgaL_I8tHlmnmkNUY5y97gXF2OL-NvAYw/w264-h400/0593593804.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_SX500_.jpg" width="264" /></a></div>This next book is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">testament</u> to how life <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> is/was. From a man who has spent his life in others' shadows, here he is <u style="font-weight: bold;">standing</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEING</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HIS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OWN</u> man. For someone who's <u>learned</u> from his past, <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u> forget it and takes a <u style="font-weight: bold;">stand</u> for it and <u style="font-weight: bold;">history</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> repeating itself. This is a story of a man making his <u>OWN</u> way. From the boy <u>believed</u> to be nothing than filing the ranks to stepping out on his own, here is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> story of love, loss & healing with <u style="font-style: italic;">Prince Harry</u>.<p></p><div>Harry missed his mother, the <u style="font-weight: bold;">ICONIC</u> Princess Diana, named after a goddess. She was omnipresent for the <u>very</u> <u>same</u> reason she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">indescribable</u> - because she was light, pure and radiant light. Visible to the mortal eye due to its brightness and dazzleing. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u> was his mother. That was where Harry could see her, sense her, <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> in Frogmore Cottage. Diana wanted to bring among <u>PEACE</u>! to someone somewhere, and Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> how <u>desperately</u> he would want - no, <u style="font-weight: bold;"><i>did</i></u> want - peace between her boys, and between them and their dad, as well as the <u>entire</u> family. There have been styles in their ranks, off/on. going back <u style="font-weight: bold;">centuries</u>, but <u>this</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">different</u>. This was a situation becoming <u style="font-weight: bold;">irreparable</u>. So, even though Harry had flown home <u style="font-weight: bold;">specifically</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">solely</u> for his Grandfather's funeral, while there, Harry was asked for a <u>secret</u> meeting with his older brother, William, and their dad to talk about the state of things. To find a way out of their predicament.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Harry caught up with his cousins at the funeral, all drinking and sharing stories of their grandfather, they looked <u style="font-weight: bold;">tightly</u> aligned. Harry's stomach <u>dropped</u>. Normally, they'd be squabbling about one thing or another, <u>but</u> now they seem more in lockstep sync. Harry <u>didn't</u> <u>know</u> what to expect. . .A walk or a duel. He met with them with a weary smile on his face. Harry's heart began thrashing in his chest. He had to compose himself with deep breaths. Apart from <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u>, Ha<i>rry</i> was feeling a kind of <u style="font-weight: bold;">hyper</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">awareness</u>, and a <u style="font-weight: bold;">vaguely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> vulnerability. Harry experienced this <u>before</u>:</div><div><br /></div><div>. Walking behind his mother's coffin</div><div>. Going into battle for the <u>first</u> time</div><div>. Giving a speech in the <u>middle</u> of a panic attack</div><div><br /></div><div>There was that <u>same</u> sense of embarking on a quest, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> knowing if Harry was to it, <u>but</u> there was <u>no</u> <u>going</u> <u>back</u>. Harry relied on the guidance of his <u>heavenly</u> mother. Here it went.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKuME71PH0wHmnH3OgO_0xZ8WmwyqxxznpLwyKbadY6e6equiwtgV-JKVBw76PAopCw-1nXruASDa5xjLXe1GbNfNB9OtcoOa2QASMNyEfUBI-udnIjASazrzhFSqO8rYSKonPpwrWWnO7Wcaj74LLH19yfPViSThA8DeuyjXREYsT1fQbLms4mEEPg/s1320/16714928992111.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="1320" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKuME71PH0wHmnH3OgO_0xZ8WmwyqxxznpLwyKbadY6e6equiwtgV-JKVBw76PAopCw-1nXruASDa5xjLXe1GbNfNB9OtcoOa2QASMNyEfUBI-udnIjASazrzhFSqO8rYSKonPpwrWWnO7Wcaj74LLH19yfPViSThA8DeuyjXREYsT1fQbLms4mEEPg/s320/16714928992111.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Waking into a situation <u style="font-weight: bold;">PAINFULLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TEPID</u>. Harry told himself <u>not</u> to think about reminders of his mother's funeral, but to think about what he <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">DID</b> have. Small talk collided on secondary subject manner. Harry <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiously</u> awaited them to the <u>privacy</u> issue, wondering <u style="font-style: italic;">how</u> his dad and brother could <u>remain</u> <u>calm</u>? As they all placated their <u>own</u> burial roots, it was only after that they got <u>down</u> <u>to</u> <u>business</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to explain his side of things. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> at his <u style="font-weight: bold;">best</u>. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u>, fighting to keep his emotions <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">check</u>, while also <u style="font-weight: bold;">striving</u> to be successful & <u>precise</u>. <u>More</u>, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">vowed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to let this encounter become another argument. But, Harry saw it wasn't up to him . . . his dad & brother had <u>parts</u> to play and they were <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">ready</b> for a fight. Every time Harry ventured a new exploration, started a new thought, one or both of them would cut him off. William in particular <u>wasn't</u> hearing any of it. After shutting Harry out of <u>several</u> times, the 2 brothers began sniping, repeating the <u>same</u> remarks to one another throughout their lifetime. This time, it got <u>so</u> heated that their dad, Prince Charles, raised his hands for <u><b>ENOUGH</b></u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Taking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stand</u> to <u>stop</u> the arguing in his final years. In this instance, Harry thought about his grandfather, King Phillip.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>All at once, something shifted <u>inside</u> of Harry. He looked over at William, <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">looked</u> at him, maybe for the <u>first</u> time since they were boys. Harry took it <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> in: His brother's scowl, which was William's <u>default</u>; his <u>alarming</u> baldness, William's resemblance to their mother, which was fading with time & age. In some ways, William was Harry's mirror, in some ways he was Harry's opposite. How could 2 brothers who grew up close end up divided? How did this happen? </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">massively</u> tired. He <u>wanted</u> to go home. But, Harry <u>seen</u> that home was not the place he left. Or maybe <u>always</u> was. Harry looked beyond at what was in front of him. What happened, William? Harry left. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> why; <u>claiming</u> he didn't. It was one thing to deny it. . Another <b><u>flat</u> <u>out</u></b> difference to claim <u style="font-weight: bold;">total</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ignorance</u> of the reasons that Harry fled the home of his birth for which he <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> fought for in his mother's country. To claim <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> knowledge of why Harry & his wife took the <u style="font-weight: bold;">drastic</u> step of picking up their child and running like Hell, leaving <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> behind. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Really</u>?</div><div><br /></div><div>William <u>tried</u> to deny it. Harry turned to their dad, who was claiming the <u>same</u> denseless ignorance. Harry thought they <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DIDN'T</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u>. <u>Staggering</u>. If they didn't know why. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> left, maybe they didn't know him <b><u>AT</u> <u>ALL</u>!</b> Maybe Harry <b><u>never</u> </b> knew them either. <u>That</u> made him feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">terribly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">alone</u>. But, it also fired him up. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> tell them. After a mental struggle, <u>Here</u> <u>We</u> <u>Go</u>. . .</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonReEqsj40HRW-KBYN1ompDOtTjCkY2uTc4PU-mCs-6SiQmLjy2e5zp3edN_LlYjxNYI102lf6yCW2lZtHFajC2R1zexPyQZmIUWsAkfKk-G47sLOX29hoNNNUHQBaR_JLOQQa70ASsY3A215-Sbm243Tzswa3LDHxtGY-Q5OU5h3MfrqPuQWKsPgfQ/s700/612e2c1912b9cc00196376cf.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonReEqsj40HRW-KBYN1ompDOtTjCkY2uTc4PU-mCs-6SiQmLjy2e5zp3edN_LlYjxNYI102lf6yCW2lZtHFajC2R1zexPyQZmIUWsAkfKk-G47sLOX29hoNNNUHQBaR_JLOQQa70ASsY3A215-Sbm243Tzswa3LDHxtGY-Q5OU5h3MfrqPuQWKsPgfQ/s320/612e2c1912b9cc00196376cf.webp" width="320" /></a></div>For Harry, <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u> was always simply Paradise. He was always too busy fishing, shooting, running up/down "<i>the hill</i>" to notice anything off. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u> there. <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u> was its own micro-season, a 2-week interlude into the Scottish Highlights. Harry's grandparents were there with Charles & William. The whole family was there with the exception of the boys' mother due to her own holiday somewhere. His mother was in Paris or somewhere. Alas, the memory lies, with a million others, on the other side of a mental wall. A horrible, tantalizing feeling that just a few inches away, the wall is <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">thick</u>. Wherever his mom was, Harry understood that she was with her now <u>friend</u>. <u>Not</u> a boyfriend. <u>Not</u> a lover. <u>Friend</u>. William & Harry had previously just met him. Actually, the boys had been with their mom weeks earlier when <u style="font-style: italic;">she</u> first met him, in St. Tropez, they were having a grand time with <u style="font-weight: bold;">quality</u> time with their mom. Laughter, horseplay and the norm when the boys <u style="font-weight: bold;">spent</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u> with their mom. Everything about the trip to St. Tropez was <u>heaven</u>. The food was tasty and their mother was <u>smiling</u>. It was before a jet-ski misadventure that their mother's friend joined them along. He chatted up the boys and their mom. <u>Specifically</u> their mom. He gave her a present. A diamond bracelet. She liked it and wore it a lot. Then, he faded from Harry's consciousness. . As long as their mom was happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry and the family lived to be outdoors, <u>especially</u> his Grandmother, who would be cross if she didn't breathe <u>at</u> <u>least</u> an hour of fresh air each day. What they <u>actually</u> did outdoors, Harry couldn't remember. What reports could tell Harry sounded <u>lovely</u>. Harry's memory works in <u>remembering</u> the physical setting of something. Dates? He has to look it up. Dialogue? He'll try. But, ask about any space he's occupied - he'll recreate it down to the carpet tacks. His memory assesses and reacts this way due to his inner soldier, assessing <u>every</u> space as a battlefield. An innate homebody by nature, rebelling against a nomadic existence. Whatever the cause, his memory gathers and curates as it sees fit. Things like chronology and cause-and-effect are often just fables we tell ourselves about the past. <i>The past is never dead. It's not even past</i>. Hearing <u>that</u>, Harry was thunderstruck and gobsmacked. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcmCGRxEApy487CP9fYuXlIarnXkkvJAU3gouuJrWDasykYURbkACkNNKp9K6fNpfgdlePoGwP2dl6oFhVZy7E376s53KteC7BrBIPnY1hjy9eTkTMObGSXY-pmIShfl0V6HCqC--nNViN0Ir9wEUQi9dh_tKRUAwFiXppE3Oftf32YU6wWX8xv7Tmw/s612/gettyimages-613464826-612x612.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="403" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcmCGRxEApy487CP9fYuXlIarnXkkvJAU3gouuJrWDasykYURbkACkNNKp9K6fNpfgdlePoGwP2dl6oFhVZy7E376s53KteC7BrBIPnY1hjy9eTkTMObGSXY-pmIShfl0V6HCqC--nNViN0Ir9wEUQi9dh_tKRUAwFiXppE3Oftf32YU6wWX8xv7Tmw/w264-h400/gettyimages-613464826-612x612.jpg" width="264" /></a></div>Born September 15TH, 1984, Harry was christened Henry Charles Albert David of Wales. But from day <u>1,</u> everyone called him Harry. Due to the love of Queen Victoria, Charles wanted to name him after her with Albert, but Diana <u style="font-weight: bold;">blocked</u> him. <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u> had 50 bedrooms, one of which was divided for a nursery for William & Harry. William had the larger half, with a double-bed, a good-sized basin and <u>more</u>. Harry's half of the room was <u>far</u> smaller, <u>less</u> luxurious. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> asked why. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> care. But, he also didn't need to ask. With a 2-year age difference of William being the oldest, he was the <i>Heir</i>, whereas Harry was the <i>Spare</i>. It was used in the press yes, but it was. Shorthand often used by their family. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Heir & The Spare</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u> argument about it, but also <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> ambiguity. Harry was the shadow, the support, the Plan B. Harry was brought into the world in case something happened to William. He was summoned to provide backup or perhaps. . . a kidney if needed.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was made <u style="font-weight: bold;">explicitly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">clear</u> to Harry from the <u>start</u> of life's journey and <u>regularly</u> enforced thereafter. Harry was <u>20</u> the <u>first</u> time he heard the story of what Charles said to their mother, Diana. <i>An heir and a spare</i>. A <i>joke</i>. On the other hand, minutes afterward, Charles had gone to be with his other woman, Camilla Parker-Bowles. Harry took <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">offense</u>. He felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> about <u>any</u> of it. Who could change the <u>inevitable</u>?</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Harry <u>wasn't</u> their Grandfather</li><li>He <u>wasn't</u> their dad</li><li>He <u>wasn't</u> his brother, William</li></ul><div>Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">third</u> in line <u>behind</u> them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Every boy & girl, at least once, imagines themselves as a prince or princess. <u>Therefore</u>, Spare or No Spare, it wasn't half bad to actually <u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u> one. Wasn't that the definition of standing behind those you loved? Acknowledging those <u>before</u> you. Everything at <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u> was either old or made to look like it. The castle was a playground, but it was also a stage. For Harry, few pleasures compared to a <u style="font-weight: bold;">scalding</u> soak of a shower.</div><div><br /></div><div>On August 30, 1997, William & Harry hurried through their evening baths, jumped into their pajamas, and settled <u>eagerly</u> in front of the TV. Posh bone china with fancy dimes covering fish fingers, cottage pies, roast chicken & peas. Mabel, their nanny, who was once their dad's nanny, joined them. 30 minutes later, the boys heard the adults migrating downstairs. With what commotion he heard downstairs, Harry thought it must be <u>Hell</u> being an adult after seeing what they go through. His parents divorce had become <u>final</u> exactly one year before. Almost to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2jFg-QWKkflco1BnkbjvJsOfpGKoruPdAVidswY0OIwTS1xDIRvG9C87wLM9e5v_mHcULRWnpuAYSnTtd7c6YOYpmvHrS7nHN6cvz5hRCsbLoJUEdNkEfZXT6SL3V60HjtDqyWRXrCGZx6M2J1xddSIavzqO3n-o3KJgFQZbIwntU3x2COk_Jgzp-A/s615/young-prince-harry-2-1468838201-view-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="460" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2jFg-QWKkflco1BnkbjvJsOfpGKoruPdAVidswY0OIwTS1xDIRvG9C87wLM9e5v_mHcULRWnpuAYSnTtd7c6YOYpmvHrS7nHN6cvz5hRCsbLoJUEdNkEfZXT6SL3V60HjtDqyWRXrCGZx6M2J1xddSIavzqO3n-o3KJgFQZbIwntU3x2COk_Jgzp-A/s320/young-prince-harry-2-1468838201-view-1.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>William & Harry finished dinner, watched some TV then began their bedtime hijinks. Running around a side staircase and eavesdropping on the adults, <u>hoping</u> to hear something they <u style="font-weight: bold;">shouldn't</u>. Harry's bed was <u>tall</u>. He had to jump to get in, after which he rolled into its sunken center. Harry pulled the sheets and covers to his chin, due to his <b><u>loathe</u> <u>&</u> <u>detestment</u></b> of the dark. His mother was the <u>same</u> way. Harry inherited it from her; alongside a <u>multitude</u> of things. How much sleep did Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">actually</u> cherish until the grogginess wore off of the news. . . </div><div><br /></div><div>Their dad was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down. His dad gave a half-smile, averting his gaze. The room was half-lit. Their dad had looked at them in a funny way. . .more like a <u style="font-style: italic;">fearful</u> "<b><i>What was going on</i>?</b>" Harry remembers thinking: crash. . .OK? Was she all right? Yes? </div><div>He <u style="font-weight: bold;">vividly</u> remembers that thought flashing through his mind. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">vividly</u> remembers waiting for confirmation that his mom was <u>alright</u> from his dad. Harry remembers <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> happening. There was a shift. . .</div><div>Harry began <u style="font-weight: bold;">pleading</u> with God, his dad . . .anybody: No. No. No. Harry remembers hearing there were complications. His mom was <u style="font-weight: bold;">quite</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">badly</u> injured and taken to a hospital, <i>darling boy</i>. His dad always called him "<i>Darling Boy</i>!" His voice was soft and in <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shock</u>. Their mom was in a hospital with a head injury. Did their dad give <u>accurate</u> details? Harry couldn't swear to it, but probably not. Harry <u>thought</u> her injuries would be fixed and she would be home. . .<u>but</u>, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> make it.</div><div><br /></div><div>These phrases <u>remain</u> in Harry's head like darts on a board. He <u>remembers</u> those 2 words: She <u>didn't</u> make it. <u>From</u> <u>then</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> came to a <b><u>STOP</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>None of what Harry said to his dad remains in his memory. What Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">does</u> remember with <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolute</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">clarity</u> is that he <u>didn't</u> cry. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tear</u>. His dad <u>didn't</u> hug him. He wasn't great at showing emotion under normal circumstances. How could he show emotion in a crisis? He did try to <u>assure</u> Harry it would be okay.</div><div><br /></div>That is <u style="font-weight: bold;">quite</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">lot</u> for their dad. He was Fatherly, hopeful & kind. And so <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u><b>un</b>true</u>, He stood up and left. Harry laid there, or sat there. He didn't get up. He didn't bathe, didn't pee. Didn't get dressed. Didn't call out to <u>anyone</u>. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">decades</u> of working to reconstruct that <u>particular</u> morning, Harry came to one inescapable conclusion: He <u style="font-weight: bold;">must've</u> remained in that room, saying <u>nothing</u>, seeing <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u>, until 9:00A <u>SHARP</u> when the piper began playing outside. With bagpipes, it's not the tune, it's the tone. It can bring emotions <u>to</u> <u>the</u> <u>surface</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkZf2L4-rP1ZKL4rGJvwKZZefUqCvw3q_Wx1fbE1ySLecvSyugvH7tXNLD3c0tChdEnyjR-umtv8VKBVhhN8_hvVoEV2hIQzja56KNYjxGWxIBUnwEepJQtRBdEGrrXn_C6KE4vv3QlrEiwzMj5ni9dW5QysU88s5spCUzLNRRFURNNHYr9yf-EKWKg/s680/TELEMMGLPICT000301883955_1_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqqVzuuqpFlyLIwiB6NTmJwWyaKjL1CatlwZEbgNRqSgg.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="680" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkZf2L4-rP1ZKL4rGJvwKZZefUqCvw3q_Wx1fbE1ySLecvSyugvH7tXNLD3c0tChdEnyjR-umtv8VKBVhhN8_hvVoEV2hIQzja56KNYjxGWxIBUnwEepJQtRBdEGrrXn_C6KE4vv3QlrEiwzMj5ni9dW5QysU88s5spCUzLNRRFURNNHYr9yf-EKWKg/s320/TELEMMGLPICT000301883955_1_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqqVzuuqpFlyLIwiB6NTmJwWyaKjL1CatlwZEbgNRqSgg.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry sees photos of them going to the church, but <u>he</u> has <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> memories. On the way back to <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u>, a 2-minute drive, it was suggested that they <u>stop</u>. People had been gathering <u>all</u> morning outside the front gate and had to leave things. Acknowledgements should be <u>made</u>, The boys pulled over, got out of the car. Harry could see nothing but a matrix of colored dots. Flowers <u>galore</u>. Harry could hear <u>nothing</u> but the press' cameras. He reached for his dad's hand, for comfort, then Harry cursed himself due to <u style="font-weight: bold;">unknowingly</u> giving in to the press.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hours later, their dad left for Paris, accompanied by Diana's sisters, Harry's aunts, Sarah & Jane. They needed to learn more about the crash and make arrangements for Diana's body. <u>Body</u>. People kept using that word. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">punch</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">throat</u>, and Harry thought it was a lie, because their mother <b><u>couldn't</u> </b> be dead. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">realization</u> took Harry's breath away, made him gasp with relief. Coming up with excuses to <u>mentally</u> block the <u style="font-weight: bold;">inevitable</u> from <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> Harry thought he felt better until doubt crept in; going on a mental back-and-forth. Soon after, the boys' father and aunts returned <u>first</u>. Their return was captured by <u>every</u> TV outlet and the world watched. Harry & William were kept from the TV, but they heard it all anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmf9L3KKTTMwPPfCNPlhUXcSp9A7LLV2dSZZSKmA-jWnaDWcRBux-QNNAY_rd8Bu7rwbgBtwrQU_S_4dWFDTDjE6sXvn7_fvU0-8Mno6-dTxeZOGLIKYne1MN9_VITNgOIKDX2j8-fA1i0yeo2gZ8FGmk7OVy_CortzPGtYwnahhaloJerQQ42m9R2Lw/s615/2_GettyImages-1358045040.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="615" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmf9L3KKTTMwPPfCNPlhUXcSp9A7LLV2dSZZSKmA-jWnaDWcRBux-QNNAY_rd8Bu7rwbgBtwrQU_S_4dWFDTDjE6sXvn7_fvU0-8Mno6-dTxeZOGLIKYne1MN9_VITNgOIKDX2j8-fA1i0yeo2gZ8FGmk7OVy_CortzPGtYwnahhaloJerQQ42m9R2Lw/s320/2_GettyImages-1358045040.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The next few days passed in a vacuum, remaining ensconced inside their castle home. The only voices Harry heard at home were the <u>mental</u> ones plaguing them. Arguing with himself. Then, one morning, it was <u>time</u>. Back to London. Harry remembers <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> about the trip. He remembers the aftermath; but not so much the events themselves. At times, Harry memory places it there, other times memory casts itself forward, to <u>many</u> years later. Their Aunt Sarah Ferguson, was holding 2 tiny blue boxes. Harry lifted off the top of his blue box. Inside was . . .locks their mother's hair. Sarah explained that while in Paris, she'd clipped 2 locks from their mom's head. So, there it was: <b><u>Proof</u>!</b> Their mother was <b><u>truly</u> </b><u>gone</u>. But, then came the <u>mental</u> doubts, the lifesaving <u>uncertainty</u>: Harry thought he could <u>mentally</u> block/deny what happened. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXxEPMIH66_f-TdDyYboSjL2HneDUEBxzo6I7RsFqJ08EH9PnhzytmiJO5L4MQmr-eY4TxBb9LGD1kzKhyKbNezA9vZZXPIgrIwcdpl28kDYS0gMAQGNYDqPy9l9kZZ9J-iyp5aNcrRwrg_bLlOPN6WXQQhlvb0Xp1eKcp0EjPVMMZgmonhKoxKLx9w/s680/TELEMMGLPICT000301883955_1_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqqVzuuqpFlyLIwiB6NTmJwWyaKjL1CatlwZEbgNRqSgg.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="680" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXxEPMIH66_f-TdDyYboSjL2HneDUEBxzo6I7RsFqJ08EH9PnhzytmiJO5L4MQmr-eY4TxBb9LGD1kzKhyKbNezA9vZZXPIgrIwcdpl28kDYS0gMAQGNYDqPy9l9kZZ9J-iyp5aNcrRwrg_bLlOPN6WXQQhlvb0Xp1eKcp0EjPVMMZgmonhKoxKLx9w/s320/TELEMMGLPICT000301883955_1_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqqVzuuqpFlyLIwiB6NTmJwWyaKjL1CatlwZEbgNRqSgg.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry & William walked up/down the crowds outside of <u style="font-style: italic;">Kensington Palace</u>; smiling, shaking hands, as if they were running for office. The hands were wet from tears. Harry disliked how those hands felt. <u>Moreover</u>, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">hated</u> how they made him feel. Guilty. Why were all these people crying and Harry <u>hadn't</u>? He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to cry, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to, due to his mom's life being so sad that she felt the need to disappear, to invent this strange massive charade. But, Harry couldn't squeeze out a drop. Maybe it was due to the family ethics. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">crying</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u>. Harry remembers the <u style="font-weight: bold;">mounds</u> of flowers all around them. Harry remembers consoling those that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">even</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> his mother. <u>Still</u> don't.</div><div><br /></div><div>There stood a large coffin. The flag <u style="font-weight: bold;">mesmerized</u> Harry. Maybe it was due to boyish games. Maybe it was due to his precocious patriotism. Or it could be the <u style="font-weight: bold;">constant</u> commotion of <b><u>THE</u> <u>FLAG</u>! </b>That was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> Harry heard about. People were up in arms because the flag hadn't been lowered to half-mast over <u style="font-style: italic;">Buckingham Palace</u>. They were trying to deflect the attention of their role in Harry's mother's passing. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> cared about seeing some <u>official</u> show of mourning, and they were enraged by its <u><b>absence</b></u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">How rich</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">coming from the same source of people who "cared" <u>so</u> <u>much</u> about Harry's mother that they chased his mother into a tunnel from which she <u>never</u> emerged</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrqZsHBE_6MO5si9zh_F2K4b9SPM16MjX7WX28S6DyZkG1H7CtQNWm3yTBXFUqKKnueSi1OMtREdbmP9tcpsroRcdpWHW-2Zls4aVH--DUXt_V89KwIQ0olILSQKoZ5EmECXTCcbp19571-xg8i3aW1OxSgCtyWQfRPwLycqF4CjE6lErdZZ957tToQ/s612/381bf3cfa13ccebe4cd95195ffd46051.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="612" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrqZsHBE_6MO5si9zh_F2K4b9SPM16MjX7WX28S6DyZkG1H7CtQNWm3yTBXFUqKKnueSi1OMtREdbmP9tcpsroRcdpWHW-2Zls4aVH--DUXt_V89KwIQ0olILSQKoZ5EmECXTCcbp19571-xg8i3aW1OxSgCtyWQfRPwLycqF4CjE6lErdZZ957tToQ/s320/381bf3cfa13ccebe4cd95195ffd46051.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Standing before the flag-draped coffin, Harry asked himself and wondered if his mother was a Patriot?What did Harry's mother <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> think of Britain? Did anyone <u>ever</u> ask her? Harry wondered when he would be able to ask her <u>himself</u>? Harry can't recollect <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> the family said in these moments. He <u>doesn't</u> recall conversations between brothers; though he <u>does</u> remember people around them saying "<i>the boys</i>" look "<i>shell-shocked</i>". <u>No</u> <u>one</u> bothered to whisper, as if the boys had been so shell-shocked to have gone deaf? Plans were drawn for the boys to walk behind a pulled horse-drawn carriage, It seemed a lot to ask of 2 young boys. <u>Several</u> adults were <u style="font-weight: bold;">aghast</u> including the boys' uncle; their mother's brother, Uncle Charles, who thought it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">barbaric</u>. An alternative plan was put forward.</div><div><br /></div><div>William would walk alone. He was 15. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Leave the younger out of it. Spare The Spare</i>. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">arranged</u> this way to garner <u>sympathy</u>. The boys' Uncle Charles was <u style="font-weight: bold;">furious</u>. But, Harry wasn't. He didn't want his brother to undergo an ordeal like this without him. Had the roles been reversed, William never would've wanted - let alone - allowed him to go it alone.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, come morning, bright & early, off they went, <u>all</u> <u>together</u>. Harry's <u>Uncle</u> Charles was on his right, William was on his Charles' left, followed by their grandfather. On Harry's left was the boys' dad, Prince Charles. At the start of it, Harry <u>noticed</u> how serene his Grandfather was, as if it were just another royal engagement. Harry kept his eyes down the road. So did William. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">remembers</u> feeling very <u>numb</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">remembers</u> clenching his fists. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">remembers</u> keeping William in his eyeline of vision and drawing <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRENGTH</u> from it. <u>Mostly</u>, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">remembers</u> the sounds surrounding the service. There was such a <u style="font-weight: bold;">SHARP</u> contrast to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">deafening</u> <u>silence</u>. The <u>only</u> hint that they were marching through a canyon of <u>humanity</u> was the occasional wailing.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhay8uKSNtVS5JLJ3lPBLTAuBTUoEcHdKeVAO7O2Yhd5Lx0Bt7P2biPSEurPF9J-A7vVCsSBzA7qIpjfUti9Wb1sNdmmNOBMIpGzPHnesdzMP02YuNv2fsFBTXbvEDk65_C7kCNXzQJNT-qdaHCNio0FQ0Ou27l1YkweP9tghdbnB2jaY-SPbVYkj_A/s650/f22566bcc2d2f4c7abc2481cd31a04ce.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="650" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhay8uKSNtVS5JLJ3lPBLTAuBTUoEcHdKeVAO7O2Yhd5Lx0Bt7P2biPSEurPF9J-A7vVCsSBzA7qIpjfUti9Wb1sNdmmNOBMIpGzPHnesdzMP02YuNv2fsFBTXbvEDk65_C7kCNXzQJNT-qdaHCNio0FQ0Ou27l1YkweP9tghdbnB2jaY-SPbVYkj_A/w200-h184/f22566bcc2d2f4c7abc2481cd31a04ce.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>After 20 minutes they reached <u style="font-style: italic;">Westminster Abbey</u>. The funeral began with a series of readings, and a culmination of Sir. Elton John. Elton walked to the front, seated himself at a small piano. He played a <u style="font-weight: bold;">special</u> version of <u style="font-style: italic;">Candle In The Wind</u> he rearranged <u style="font-weight: bold;">specifically</u> for Diana. One <u style="font-weight: bold;">memory</u> Harry has from <u>that</u> <u>day</u> of the song climaxing, his eyes began to sting and tears <u style="font-weight: bold;">nearly</u> fell. <u>Nearly</u>. Towards the end of the service came Harry's Uncle Charles, who <u style="font-weight: bold;">blasted</u> everyone - family, the world, the press - for stalking Harry's mother to her death. You could <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u> everyone recoil from the blow. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Truth</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Hurts</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgua707NFdkhGJzw0fGwtQxBpXauUZVqJDYfWDKbuGl8tLovJ7YTm8JmxoZ6zOabH46bQNYEw28dXBkzfFucAKcz7gzKb4RXEuagEG384jJQBHCIFchN9CQWDlLT90XtbfAG-7Ghg6_mk8t0dx6MjMmCjZfEZbk1g1lYYpafX243caflrs01YyYc_dhXg/s1926/636337201340367284-AP-BRITAIN-DIANA-620141.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="1926" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgua707NFdkhGJzw0fGwtQxBpXauUZVqJDYfWDKbuGl8tLovJ7YTm8JmxoZ6zOabH46bQNYEw28dXBkzfFucAKcz7gzKb4RXEuagEG384jJQBHCIFchN9CQWDlLT90XtbfAG-7Ghg6_mk8t0dx6MjMmCjZfEZbk1g1lYYpafX243caflrs01YyYc_dhXg/s320/636337201340367284-AP-BRITAIN-DIANA-620141.webp" width="320" /></a></div>They yielded <u>pressure</u> and lowered the flag to half-mass; <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> the Royal Standard, of course, but the Union Jack - an <u style="font-weight: bold;">unprecendented</u> compromise. The Royal Standard was <u>always</u> <u>reserved</u> for members of the Royal Family - for which Harry's mother <u>wasn't</u> anymore. This meant Harry's mother was forgiven by his grandmother, The Queen. Harry wondered this as the coffin was slowly carried outside with the <u style="font-weight: bold;">largest</u> crowd <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> seen. It went past <u style="font-style: italic;">Buckingham Palace</u>; up <u style="font-style: italic;">Park Lane</u>, towards the outskirts, over to <u style="font-style: italic;">Finchley Rd</u>. then <u style="font-style: italic;">Henlon Way</u>, then the <u style="font-style: italic;">Brent Cross</u> flyover; then the <u style="font-style: italic;">North Circular</u>. . . .leading its way before passing through the iron gate of Harry's Uncle Charles' estate; <u style="font-style: italic;">Althorp</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQT7oBfVYPVtsMsx-kr1A_NDzhgDOrSF6pLqd1HeqKSJNHb3FGnLU35wro_Ho06xgd_4JOTlpB6vqk0tA0N7Fp_bTxn2wW8baLPQ7cxBSWSndOclwQAA4q1mRhMQeO3CH6tfw4IMjQgA1NsHAtZ0RaafV290J4Rhh92RoyZfRWl2MPGcf86bR0JqX-g/s1200/MJZPFTCZMZFOFOCO3KHXM3XT54.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1200" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQT7oBfVYPVtsMsx-kr1A_NDzhgDOrSF6pLqd1HeqKSJNHb3FGnLU35wro_Ho06xgd_4JOTlpB6vqk0tA0N7Fp_bTxn2wW8baLPQ7cxBSWSndOclwQAA4q1mRhMQeO3CH6tfw4IMjQgA1NsHAtZ0RaafV290J4Rhh92RoyZfRWl2MPGcf86bR0JqX-g/s320/MJZPFTCZMZFOFOCO3KHXM3XT54.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The boys watched most of that car ride on TV due to <u>already</u> being at <u style="font-style: italic;">Althorp</u>. They had sped ahead. Not only did the hearse go the long way around, it was delayed <u style="font-weight: bold;">several</u> times by all of the people heaping flowers into it, blocking the vents and causing the engine to overheat. The driver had to keep pulling over so the bodyguard could get out and clean the flowers off the windshield. When the hearse <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> gets to <u style="font-style: italic;">Althorp</u>, the coffin was removed and carried across the pond, over to a little island, and there it was placed on a platform. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQocXnRyJhM3dCSoUFu4y57xYay-df9h5pqcuMsoD1ULmcrEzKq1lB-Ds6uo8Ps2dPpTcxJ1gOF_nk4ZJMdL1t3iRuFsbUGjYAjwWp_pAxdkVB4KxPO0R1naHWGQIbWUGA8rgXoo1bj7VpV9NJGmgWNq2vLY0V5GqOAb_lJQNwoUv2Xa8AdH-drrMLJQ/s1117/4952b31d22ef986d7167712a2b70a714.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1117" data-original-width="620" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQocXnRyJhM3dCSoUFu4y57xYay-df9h5pqcuMsoD1ULmcrEzKq1lB-Ds6uo8Ps2dPpTcxJ1gOF_nk4ZJMdL1t3iRuFsbUGjYAjwWp_pAxdkVB4KxPO0R1naHWGQIbWUGA8rgXoo1bj7VpV9NJGmgWNq2vLY0V5GqOAb_lJQNwoUv2Xa8AdH-drrMLJQ/w223-h400/4952b31d22ef986d7167712a2b70a714.jpeg" width="223" /></a></div>The boys, William & Harry, walked across the <u>same</u> bridge to the island. It was reported that their mother's hands were folded across her chest and placed between them and laid a picture of William & Harry <u>possibly</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> 2 men who <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> loved her. <u>Certainly</u>, the ones who loved her the <u>most</u>. For <u>all</u> eternity, they'd be smiling at her in the darkness, and maybe it was this image, as the flag came off and the coffin descended to the bottom of the hole, and that <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">broke</u> Harry. His body convulsed and his chin fell. He began to <u>emotionally</u> <u>break</u> and sobbed <u style="font-weight: bold;">uncontrollably</u> into his hands. Harry felt ashamed of violating family ethos; but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> hold it in <u>anymore</u>. Harry <u>reassured</u> himself it was O.K. There weren't any cameras around. Harry <u>promised</u> himself that his mother was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> only in a hole. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">bawled</u> at the mere idea.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, from there, everyone moved on. The family went back to work and Harry went back to school. Back to "<i>normal</i>"everyone stated. If you wanted to find Harry in September 1997, the library would've been the <u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u> place to look. Better to check the woods. Or the sports fields. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> trying to keep moving; keep busy. Harry was also, more often, <u>alone</u>. Harry liked people. He was gregarious by nature, but Harry didn't want anyone <u>too</u> <u>close</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> space. </div><div><br /></div><div><u>That</u> was a <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">tall</b> order, due to Harry's school housed 100 boys living in proximity. They ate together, bathed together, slept together; sometimes 10 to a room. <u>Everyone</u> knew <u>everyone's</u> business; down to <u style="font-weight: bold;">immense</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">personal</u> details. And yet, <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> mentioned Harry's mother when the new term began. Out of respect? More out of <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u>. Harry kept and said <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u>. Days after his return, Harry had a birthday; his 13TH. By long-standing tradition, Harry had his choice. His choice was his mother's <u style="font-weight: bold;">favorites</u> of food. His first birthday without his mom, his aunt Sarah had appeared out of nowhere holding a box. After peering through, Sarah had informed Harry that his mother had bought it for him in Paris. It was an <u style="font-style: italic;">Xbox</u>. Harry was pleased. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> video games. Charles had said that Diana hurt her head. As a defense mechanism, Harry's memory was <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> recording/remembering like he once did. Therein, Harry felt he had hit <u>his</u> head; just as his mother did.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-GE401cDy1jmi-dnfCXKeF8oU7jtqaXUTrAtmd5GpdxjNMUwG-uMswFWQRMv5bZEl--NQXBEnwXe9AzGh5BpORYqJk_NqZidrw99qq02Vg1_pmyDxamnkxp1zqqlg_LdtnSArLbU764ILBzV6uvLnCjKPTrREBmNvD2PuU5jsunWDUGw-mFtjswB2pw/s590/harry.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-GE401cDy1jmi-dnfCXKeF8oU7jtqaXUTrAtmd5GpdxjNMUwG-uMswFWQRMv5bZEl--NQXBEnwXe9AzGh5BpORYqJk_NqZidrw99qq02Vg1_pmyDxamnkxp1zqqlg_LdtnSArLbU764ILBzV6uvLnCjKPTrREBmNvD2PuU5jsunWDUGw-mFtjswB2pw/s320/harry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Despite having 2 Male Headmasters, Harry's school was run by women. Whatever tenderness day-to-day they received, came from them, the women. The matrons <u style="font-weight: bold;">CARED</u> for them. Aside from Harry's outburst, he had not cried again. The matrons fancied themselves as a Mom-Away-From-Mom, which was <u>odd</u>; but <u>now</u> especially confusing; because of his mom's passing, also because the matrons were <u>suddenly</u> . . .hot. Harry developed a crush on a certain teacher, Miss Roberts, whom he felt was <u>certain</u> he was going to marry one day, as well as a pair of sister teachers. Every boy had his own towel for washing up, embossed with their school I.D. number. Harry was 116. As a 13-yr-old, he graduated from matronly bathing assistance. But, he was still dependent on their nightly tuck-ins, still treasured their morning greetings. Harry awoke from a morning visage, framed by the sun hoping for what could've been. . .but <b><i><u>never</u></i></b> was.</div><div><br /></div><div>The matron Harry dealt with the most was Pat. Unlike most matrons, Pat was the <u>opposite</u> of her counterparts that he found attractive. Only the newest & stupidest boys would go to Pat with a problem. Or worse, a cut. She was "<i>empathy challenged</i>" with <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> bedside manner. Pat, herself, had many crosses to bear. Harry didn't so much as torture this poor woman. For him, that wasn't the reward, but making his classmates laugh. It had felt <u>good</u> to make others laugh, especially since Harry <u>hadn't</u> laughed in months. Maybe Pat knew this. Seeing Harry being a <u>total</u> ass was the best. Cracking up his friends, but <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> was better than making a miserable Pat bust a gut with Harry's antics.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tqV-Nj96MmiAR71zkxOqeZruPmp6EJ1SyLY_H4OWCHO--PG2WRe4GimK2awTO88FqsVchkaaoF8cNwgfeHk1AiaLAuDM79zZ9fjp8etmO-NDw8RXDPDAMboTWKXd8NXO3PXTufHwQC_Yk0vPotLFh_QMO8MtFGukJBSxtkjMYoSCwhyKoKB18JMYKA/s561/starburst-logo.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="561" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tqV-Nj96MmiAR71zkxOqeZruPmp6EJ1SyLY_H4OWCHO--PG2WRe4GimK2awTO88FqsVchkaaoF8cNwgfeHk1AiaLAuDM79zZ9fjp8etmO-NDw8RXDPDAMboTWKXd8NXO3PXTufHwQC_Yk0vPotLFh_QMO8MtFGukJBSxtkjMYoSCwhyKoKB18JMYKA/w200-h107/starburst-logo.webp" width="200" /></a></div>On Tuesday, Thursday & Saturday, the school had what they called <u style="font-style: italic;">Grub Days</u>. A day where they would gorge on sweets.A plethora of them. Just the sight of that table made their childhood mouths <u>water</u>. Harry would super-size his sugar rush by taking his <u style="font-style: italic;">Opal Fruits</u> (<i>which later changed its name to <u>Starbursts</u></i>) and squeeze them together into one massive candy, then jam them into the side of his mouth. He could feel the dextrose enter his bloodstream. The <u>opposite</u> of grub day was letter writing day. A letter home to his parents. Harry could <u>barely</u> remember when his parents weren't divorced. So, writing to them without parental drama <u>required</u> the finesse of a career diplomat. After his mom's passing, letter writing was <u>impossible</u>. Harry was told by the matron to write a "<i>final</i>" letter to his mom. He remembers wanting to protest that was still alive. Harry probably dashed off writing something quick, saying he missed her and school was fine. He folded it once and handed it to the matron. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">regretted</u> not taking this assignment <u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry wished he'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">dug</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u>, told his mother <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> that was weighing on him/his heart, <u>especially</u> his <u style="font-weight: bold;">regret</u> over the last time they spoke on the phone. Harry's mother had called early in the evening, the night of the crash, but he was running around with his brother and cousins and didn't want to stop playing. Harry was short & impatient with his mother on the phone and rushed her off. <i style="font-weight: bold;">We <u>all</u> have that moment we <u>wish</u> we could take back that <u>forever</u> haunts us</i>. Being impatient on the phone with his mother is something Harry will <b><u>ALWAYS</u> <u>REGRET</u>!</b> He wished he searched for the words to describe how much he loved her. Little did he know that search would take <u style="font-weight: bold;">decades</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43A497ckdFLHg0qTyAifZzLvWUcTbBrTlCWY36PCY7Nhso-yoRnLIoJkFyDYDrwVwRBEGgc8wYPDcpE-73_EA-2d_UAIqRSBX5pK0_RSv8lpOW5g8g46HlzIjjj-XQTblzzqsqOpAARGC_jmvJp9mrBZW-5ijXv2Bvpg_MiAat_L2QYQe8et28vDClw/s790/prince-harry-nelson-mandela-international-day.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="790" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43A497ckdFLHg0qTyAifZzLvWUcTbBrTlCWY36PCY7Nhso-yoRnLIoJkFyDYDrwVwRBEGgc8wYPDcpE-73_EA-2d_UAIqRSBX5pK0_RSv8lpOW5g8g46HlzIjjj-XQTblzzqsqOpAARGC_jmvJp9mrBZW-5ijXv2Bvpg_MiAat_L2QYQe8et28vDClw/s320/prince-harry-nelson-mandela-international-day.png" width="320" /></a></div>A month later, it was time</span><span style="text-align: left;"> off school. With the press' hysteria of his mother's passing, the nation was in a state that had veered into psychosis. To </span><u style="text-align: left;">worsen</u><span style="text-align: left;"> the top of it all, William wouldn't've been home to watch over Harry. He was at </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Eaton</u><span style="text-align: left;">. So, their father announced that he'd take Harry with him on a </span><u style="text-align: left;">planned</u><span style="text-align: left;"> trip to South Africa to meet Nelson Mandela.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> Harry didn't get it. He wasn't sure <u>why</u> he wanted his dad for him to <u style="font-weight: bold;">get</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">significance</u> of the trip. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> was that Harry's father's <u>staff</u> hoped for a photo-op with this <u>particular</u> political leader to earn him some positive headlines, which he <u style="font-weight: bold;">sorely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u>. Since Harry's mother and the divorce, his father's popularity ratings had plummeted.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Whatever the <u>official</u> reason was for the trip, Harry <u>didn't</u> care. He was just happy to be going along. It was a chance to get <u>away</u> from Britain. Better yet, it was a better time with his dad, due to his father being <u>mentally</u> checked out. Not that he always was a bit checked out, his dad <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> ready for the responsibilities of parenthood. He just <u>wasn't</u> made for single parenthood. But, <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">equally</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fair</u>, his father did try. In the evenings, his father <u>never</u> <u>forgot</u> that Harry didn't like the dark, so he would gently touch Harry's face until he fell asleep. Harry had the <u>fondest</u> memories of his father's touch on his son's cheeks, forehead; then waking up to find him gone, magically. Other than a few fleeing moments, Harry and his father <u>merely</u> co-existed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nsLTIgK_02t-nk7-tn4ub2c0DBWqT5v7r9iRCrNm641qmFFwbAOEFleTKANGiMc7Fs0vJwRaoXh6YSUX5dK3_2r_z4hqW0DY6XXuVGcmvRSpcYeGI8nkJ6-svGKRxXQw3VfHoUPtGIi0oYv8rSuGqVFTgYaj7ecWsA74LyZxjEDwNaKplSXc0G1hCw/s1400/52c31a74f7dc2318b93361c685d73f34c6-prince-harry-spice-girls.1x.rsquare.w1400.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nsLTIgK_02t-nk7-tn4ub2c0DBWqT5v7r9iRCrNm641qmFFwbAOEFleTKANGiMc7Fs0vJwRaoXh6YSUX5dK3_2r_z4hqW0DY6XXuVGcmvRSpcYeGI8nkJ6-svGKRxXQw3VfHoUPtGIi0oYv8rSuGqVFTgYaj7ecWsA74LyZxjEDwNaKplSXc0G1hCw/s320/52c31a74f7dc2318b93361c685d73f34c6-prince-harry-spice-girls.1x.rsquare.w1400.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry's father had trouble communicating, trouble <u>listening</u>, trouble being <u>intimate</u> face-to-face. On rare occasions, after a multi-course dinner, Harry would find a letter on his pillow <u style="font-weight: bold;">saying</u> what his father <u>couldn't</u>. But, Harry would've <u style="font-weight: bold;">appreciated</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> if his father <u style="font-weight: bold;">SAID</u> it. Then, came <b><u>REALITY</u>!</b> A work trip featuring father/son. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Spice Girls</u> concert was Harry's <u>first</u> public outing since the funeral. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> through speculation of the public's concern for his welfare was running <u>high</u>. Harry <u>performed</u> with a smile on his face screwed on . . . just <u style="font-weight: bold;">wishing</u> he could go back to bed at/in boarding school.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u style="font-style: italic;">The Spice Girls</u> cooed at Harry, saying things he didn't understand, while bantering with journalists, whom weren't <u>so</u> <u>much</u> as questioning him, but trying to <u>trap</u> him. Journalists who didn't care for Harry. They were trying to get Harry to say something "<i>Newsy</i>": The <u>more</u> outward <u style="font-style: italic;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">The Spice Girls</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> were to the media, the </span></span><u>more</u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> Harry could fade into the background. Harry was able to </span></span><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <b><u>enjoy</u></b></span></span><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> the show with his dad.</span></span><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> He recalls that as the flashes brightened, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> had his dad that night. Loving him and <u style="font-weight: bold;">needing</u> him. The next morning, Harry and Charles left for a beautiful lodge on a snaky river; <u style="font-style: italic;">KwaZulu - Natal</u>. The <u>whole</u> trip was a <u>smashing</u> <u>success</u>. Not only a terrific adventure, but an <u style="font-weight: bold;">unforgettable</u> bonding experience with father & son.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">Most of Harry's teachers were just kind souls who just let him <u>be</u>. After what he'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">already</u> lived through, the staff didn't want to put Harry through <u>more</u>. Some teachers never gave him any leeway passes. His <u style="font-style: italic;">History</u> teacher found it odd for a British prince to not <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> British <u style="font-style: italic;">History</u>. It wasn't that Harry didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> about his family's <u style="font-style: italic;">history</u>, he <u>didn't</u> <u>want</u> to know. In <u style="font-style: italic;">theory</u>, Harry liked <i><u>British</u></i> history. There were <u>certain</u> bits that he found intriguing due to having visited these locations with his dad. Other parts of <u style="font-style: italic;">History</u> for Harry, he just <u>didn't</u> care. Harry's family had <u>already</u> declared him a nullity. <u>The Spare</u>. Harry didn't complain about it, but there was <u>no</u> <u>need</u> to dwell on it either. Far better position to be in at the time for Harry because he didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to think about historical facts like his father & brother. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> his place, so why go out of his way to study it? What was the point in memorizing past <u>spares</u>? Why trace his family tree when it all leads to the same severed branch - his mom?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">After class, Harry asked his teacher to <u>stop</u> embarrassing him. Harry's argument was that it was cruel and unfair to single him out from other boys the way he did. The teacher had <u>overstepped</u> and he <u>knew</u> it but was stubborn. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmDk3nN9hyCq9w9HNxnAF_zG-Vk1hYAh6D_AYxdFz-CqIs8MAHAwyoFRzb6nuGTXgg5Fr99VvdJSs0rqjzdFWWU0xakxvcEI-r_2lLaqnaZ1Tlm8e33irev1jWjC5T0_z7tCjqVs9JS525GCzNjNtxNd0xo6ig7jJjm1SmV45F7OkktidzX4dNWItMQ/s590/Broadmoor-staff-injured-by-Muslim-convert-inmates-after-prayer-row-596417.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmDk3nN9hyCq9w9HNxnAF_zG-Vk1hYAh6D_AYxdFz-CqIs8MAHAwyoFRzb6nuGTXgg5Fr99VvdJSs0rqjzdFWWU0xakxvcEI-r_2lLaqnaZ1Tlm8e33irev1jWjC5T0_z7tCjqVs9JS525GCzNjNtxNd0xo6ig7jJjm1SmV45F7OkktidzX4dNWItMQ/s320/Broadmoor-staff-injured-by-Muslim-convert-inmates-after-prayer-row-596417.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Late at night, after lights went out, Harry and some of his classmates would sneak out, go roaming up/down the corridors. A <u>strict</u> violation of the rules, but Harry was lonely and homesick, due to <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</u> & depression. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> stay grounded and locked into his dorm. There was one teacher, whenever he <u>caught</u> Harry, would give him a tremendous clout, along with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">hardback</u> version of the <u style="font-style: italic;">New English Bible</u> that he would <u style="font-weight: bold;">violently</u> hit Harry with it, making him (<i>Harry</i>) feel <u>bad</u> about the teacher and bad about the <u style="font-style: italic;">Bible</u> involved. Nevertheless, the next night Harry would go back to flouting the rules. If he wasn't roaming the corridors, Harry was roaming the school grounds, usually with his best mates, mates that Harry would get into <u>shenanigans</u> with. He couldn't remember the punishment he received after getting <u>caught</u>. Whatever it was, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> he didn't mind. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">torture</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Ludgrove</u> could dish out that surpassed what was going on <u>inside</u> of him. Needless to say, abandoned children don't care about a bell. Rambunctious boys don't care about the sound of a bell. Adding to this general sense of bedlam was the psychiatric hospital down the road, <u style="font-style: italic;">Broadmoor</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">Broadmoor</u> had installed a warning siren; and now/then they'd test it to <u>check</u> its working order. It sounds like Doomsday. A teacher's bell on steroids.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJR1xpyzyfs4c6_bjj4Qh5A3nkxcUVCr4MSqqNLhJaRXdMNbacmAV-NqRJz059yi_A8RGOlNZ5oSDsHcKGKRrj3WeXClqCJIlgsgiLlP-uMAmXvFYmbWX3F2TlxgbDTubr_gLyrFAFXIwFtEIMl40aSGNtTqCjE8mLZmOLVhdzlgsAfVqaDUYt1q9bA/s1500/princess-diana-james-hewitt-1-ed03e050974d422f9fbb93f3ff3d9cf9.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJR1xpyzyfs4c6_bjj4Qh5A3nkxcUVCr4MSqqNLhJaRXdMNbacmAV-NqRJz059yi_A8RGOlNZ5oSDsHcKGKRrj3WeXClqCJIlgsgiLlP-uMAmXvFYmbWX3F2TlxgbDTubr_gLyrFAFXIwFtEIMl40aSGNtTqCjE8mLZmOLVhdzlgsAfVqaDUYt1q9bA/s320/princess-diana-james-hewitt-1-ed03e050974d422f9fbb93f3ff3d9cf9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Charles liked telling stories. A patient that was talking <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">crazy</u> circulated a <u style="font-weight: bold;">remarkably</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">unfunny</u> joke, given the <u>rumor</u> that Harry's actual father was one of his mother's <u>former</u> lovers: Major James Hewitt. One cause was due to James' genetic makeup. Tabloids <u style="font-weight: bold;">delighted</u> by the idea. They <u>couldn't</u> get enough of it. <u>Nevermind</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">fact</u> that Diana didn't meet Major Hewitt until <u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">after</u> Harry was born. The press <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> it. There was even talk that some reporters were seeking Harry's DNA to prove it. Charles <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> sat Harry down for a <u>proper</u> heart-to-heart, <u style="font-weight: bold;">reassuring</u> Harry of the <b><u>TRUTH</u>!</b> Major Hewitt <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> Harry's father. If Charles had <u>any</u> doubts, he kept them to <u>himself</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKOEwi52UaPSoEnkFz4eH2Xq1-hj9FzjQC5_TRh8YYPIVqbhLmcQpc0DFEH-hHMcfBRVUYWbamBtjBv03sicAtu22u1uHzfiYv2I7t3pRjoZVbBSD2-aM8ZNuaRAvhA8suGmKT2EIqDD8O9TZSJfQellPV8SXfDE9VkB9k9mW6LL3KUKsKqwEz0Z5YQ/s700/638fb7f58580f70019f7c1a1.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKOEwi52UaPSoEnkFz4eH2Xq1-hj9FzjQC5_TRh8YYPIVqbhLmcQpc0DFEH-hHMcfBRVUYWbamBtjBv03sicAtu22u1uHzfiYv2I7t3pRjoZVbBSD2-aM8ZNuaRAvhA8suGmKT2EIqDD8O9TZSJfQellPV8SXfDE9VkB9k9mW6LL3KUKsKqwEz0Z5YQ/s320/638fb7f58580f70019f7c1a1.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry's mother <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARILY</u> stated that there were 3 people in her marriage. <u>But</u>, her math was off. She felt her boys out of the equation. They didn't <u>quite</u> understand their parents, but they intuited enough. They sensed the presence of the <i>Other Way</i>, due to suffering the downstream effects. William <u>long</u> had suspicions about said <i>Other Woman</i>; which confused him, tortured him and when those suspicions were <u style="font-weight: bold;">confirmed</u>, William felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">tremendous</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">guilt</u> for having done <u>nothing</u>, said <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u> <u>sooner</u>. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">young</u> to have suspicions. But, he couldn't help but feel the <u>lack</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">stability</u>, the <u>lack</u> of warmth & love, in <u>their</u> home. Now, with their mom's passing, it landed on their dad. He was able to be <u>openly</u> <u>free</u> to see the <i>Other Woman</i> as he liked<i>.</i> But, seeing <u>wasn't</u> sufficient. Their dad wanted to be aboveboard. The first step to that was to bring "<i>the boys</i>" into the field.</div><div><br /></div><div>William went <u>first</u>. He was summoned from <u style="font-style: italic;">Eton</u> for a high-stakes private meeting. At <u style="font-style: italic;">Highgrove</u> over tea with Harry went well. Harry & William compared notes later. William stated that his impression of Camilla had made an effort and had appreciated by William. That was <u>all</u> he indulged to say. Harry's turn came next. He told <u>himself</u> this was no big deal. Just like getting an injection: <i>Close your eyes</i>. <i>It'll be over soon</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZXX-ztU76RVKVN9l0BpnEpeep1BiI4y5d_UndX54c69hLYSYgMjprPXXtqwfplj30LAElPt8at9b2mHRt5Re5DGsY6sK2YodJ-T-xX-Ifcn5Cu6HouvsbKvHOZBtSH8d6PgMsdZfJicKJ3d0Q000gehFLx3Z2UXNqTbb07F-UZKMpahKXU6yyL5F6tA/s800/camilla-harry-800x600.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZXX-ztU76RVKVN9l0BpnEpeep1BiI4y5d_UndX54c69hLYSYgMjprPXXtqwfplj30LAElPt8at9b2mHRt5Re5DGsY6sK2YodJ-T-xX-Ifcn5Cu6HouvsbKvHOZBtSH8d6PgMsdZfJicKJ3d0Q000gehFLx3Z2UXNqTbb07F-UZKMpahKXU6yyL5F6tA/s320/camilla-harry-800x600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Harry has dim recollections of Camilla being bored/calm as he. Neither fretted over the other. Camilla <u>wasn't</u> Harry's mother and Harry <u>wasn't</u> her biggest problem. In other words, Harry didn't matter. He wasn't the Heir. This meeting between <i>The Boys</i> and Camilla was <u>merely</u> a formality. The commonality they had in common was horses. Camilla loves them, and Harry knew how to ride. Harry wondered right before the first meeting if Camilla would've been like stepmothers in storybooks. But, Camilla <u>wasn't</u>. Both of the boys felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">gratitude</u> for <u>that</u>. The boys thought their dad should be happy. Yes, Camilla <u>did</u> play a <b><u>pivotal</u></b> role in cementing the events of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">unraveling</u> of their mother, the boys <u style="font-weight: bold;">understood</u> the trappings that Camilla was on in the riptide of events. The boys <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> blame Camilla. They'd steadily forgive her if she made their father <u>happy</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>With the descendency of how their father was raised and the boys <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u>, William & Harry <u>agreed</u> their father <u style="font-weight: bold;">deserved</u> better. Their dad deserved a proper companion. That was why, when asked, William & Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">promised</u> their dad that they'd <u>welcome</u> Camilla into the family. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> thing they'd asked in return was that their dad would <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> marry her. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">pleaded</u> that there was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to remarry. A wedding would only cause controversy. It would've only incited the press. Ingratiating and making comparisons between Camilla and their mother. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> wanted that. Least of all Camilla. Their father didn't respond. Camilla answered. . . <u>straightaway</u>. Shortly after their <u>private</u> sessions with Camilla, began to play the long game; a campaign <u>aimed</u> at marriage and <u>eventually</u> the Crown. Stories began to appear in the press, <u>everywhere</u>, about their conversations with the boys. . . some sourced from William <u>himself</u>. In a 2-person conversation with <u>pinpoint</u> <u>accuracy</u>. . . it could only come from one source. . . William and the leaking had been abeited by a a spin doctor that Charles hired <u>at</u> <u>Camilla</u>'s <u>urging</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4j2BUsmaza7ds5jlYnjw10bIMZyVJehqg3e8On54lz-CWg4Ct4P3kxMTLnyFIDUb-8btMMSsgWrFvj16a9MV8WS7TiIPa2RiunXa0s6T0k0uZvWTcGPNmjHv9P74WRXqBX4m4NJy1Flk19ErFnpLBTwD8KohbCFaz2H8wZzBdIOU878d03tGFO2dxg/s700/5f8419c9bab422001979ab76.webp" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4j2BUsmaza7ds5jlYnjw10bIMZyVJehqg3e8On54lz-CWg4Ct4P3kxMTLnyFIDUb-8btMMSsgWrFvj16a9MV8WS7TiIPa2RiunXa0s6T0k0uZvWTcGPNmjHv9P74WRXqBX4m4NJy1Flk19ErFnpLBTwD8KohbCFaz2H8wZzBdIOU878d03tGFO2dxg/s320/5f8419c9bab422001979ab76.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eaton</td></tr></tbody></table>In the early autumn of 1998, having completed his education at <u style="font-style: italic;">Ludgrove</u> the previous spring, Harry entered <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>; The <u>finest</u> school for boys that was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">meant</u> to be a shock. Harry <u>seen</u> what his ancestor, Henry VI, was some sort of holy shrine, a sacred temple had <u>previously</u> laid. The situation-at-hand became <u style="font-weight: bold;">obvious</u> during Harry's <u>very</u> <u>first</u> French lesson. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">astounded</u> to hear the class was conducted <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u> in French. Presuming all of the students were fluent. <u>Afterward</u>, Harry went up to the teacher and explained that there'd been a <u style="font-weight: bold;">dreadful</u> mistake and he was in the wrong class. The teacher told Harry to relax, assuring him Harry would be updated in no time. So, Harry went to his headmaster, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">begged</u> to be in a <u>smaller</u> class. The principal did as Harry asked. But, it was merely a <u>temporary</u> measure. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVwi7pNhg0GDe-5m-r6p2m5TcL4WP9P2tPLLvtJX3wKQMvcJAGjNXdTZdsl1Am9pFKhL0eZwfGzG-aEWmPcQi5qlMXnf2Ed4Nqyj6IkShNnNaxmFkgjolQqEcnCaJD2AfaZuY8okFLJvtwVHzFPNgEmOIrMkDprUFWhYLlYWqhnzPsPQ3BLZAUJGI8w/s622/SEI_64465700_1556361622.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="622" data-original-width="550" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVwi7pNhg0GDe-5m-r6p2m5TcL4WP9P2tPLLvtJX3wKQMvcJAGjNXdTZdsl1Am9pFKhL0eZwfGzG-aEWmPcQi5qlMXnf2Ed4Nqyj6IkShNnNaxmFkgjolQqEcnCaJD2AfaZuY8okFLJvtwVHzFPNgEmOIrMkDprUFWhYLlYWqhnzPsPQ3BLZAUJGI8w/s320/SEI_64465700_1556361622.webp" width="283" /></a></div>Once or twice, Harry would confess to a teacher that he was <u>merely</u> relocated to said class. Harry was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> over his head. It was explained that if Harry needed anything, he <i>always had William there</i>. At the <u>same</u> time, William told Harry, <u>his</u> <u>own</u> <u>brother</u>, to <u>pretend</u> Harry didn't know him. William, in his explanation, had become <u>territorial</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> was <u style="font-style: italic;">William's</u> sanctuary. No need for a kid brother around. William was forging <u>his</u> <u>own</u> life, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> willing to give that up. William <b><u>hated</u></b> being lumped in with Harry, as if they were a package duo. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">HATED</u> it. When their mom tried to dress twin them as boys. Harry <u>barely</u> took notice. He didn't care about clothes, his or someone else's. Just as long as it wasn't something mischievous, Harry was good. But, for William, it was <u>pure</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">agony</u> to dress the <u style="font-weight: bold;">exact</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">same</u> as his brother. And to attend the <u>same</u> school as his little brother; it was <u>pure</u> murderous <u style="font-weight: bold;">torture</u> for William. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">assured</u> his older brother that he/Harry would <u>forget</u> his brother's existence. But, <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> wasn't going to make it easy. To try to ease things, <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> tried to house the boys <u>together</u>. At least, Harry was on the ground floor. William was <u>way</u> upstairs with his class group.</div><div><br /></div><div>Many of the 60 boys in the house were as <u>unwelcoming</u> as William. Their indifference, however, didn't rattle Harry as much as their <i>ease</i>. At least in <u style="font-style: italic;">Ludgrove</u>, Harry knew his lay of the land. At <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>, Harry had to start from the <u>fresh</u> bottom again. <u>Starting</u> <u>Over</u>. Worse, without his best friend, whom was attending a different school. Harry didn't even know how to dress in the morning. Every <u style="font-style: italic;">Etonion</u> was to formally dress in perpetual mourning for Henry VI. While Harry was sorry for this ancestral passing, he wasn't keen on mourning him 24/7. For a bot who <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u> lost his mom. it was a real kick-in-the-balls <u>daily</u>. Harry <u>tried</u> his <u style="font-weight: bold;">damndest</u> to not be late and have his name <u>LARGELY</u> <u>ENGRAVED</u> in <u style="font-style: italic;">The Tardy Book</u>; one of the <u>many</u> words he <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u> to learn. . . along with <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">many</b> <u>more</u>; including the way they introduced a different inventory of a summary of the location.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR2yhEat3vI5X6umXqRvGiKFIh3QfS2QJmsIvRlfi05-babyspnt-g7y1ifgN277Iyjm7ZNLo0DK1KV4zq1poUvNJFLitnX8nXw2w-k7-c8DQXGqmlgLkrQnakYQDE5ixLOI820HzbfCPc5L0iGpet481O6Vs1SUstxhLwQiL36zVZWmy0rBnIDZogzQ/s634/e7c455bf8a06b23dc335f10e4d6260ed--st-birthday-principe-harry.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="634" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR2yhEat3vI5X6umXqRvGiKFIh3QfS2QJmsIvRlfi05-babyspnt-g7y1ifgN277Iyjm7ZNLo0DK1KV4zq1poUvNJFLitnX8nXw2w-k7-c8DQXGqmlgLkrQnakYQDE5ixLOI820HzbfCPc5L0iGpet481O6Vs1SUstxhLwQiL36zVZWmy0rBnIDZogzQ/s320/e7c455bf8a06b23dc335f10e4d6260ed--st-birthday-principe-harry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sport, Harry would be his thing at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. Sporty boys were separated into 2 groups: dry bobs or wet bobs. Dry bobs played land sports. . .Wet bobs involved water sports. Harry was dry who occasionally got wet. Harry played <u>every</u> dry sport, though <u style="font-style: italic;">Rugby</u> allowed Harry to <u>indulge</u> in rage; <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> pain he felt. . . Harry put on the <u style="font-style: italic;">Rugby</u> field. <u>No</u> <u>one</u> had an answer for a boy who <u>seeked</u> eternal pain to match his external. Harry made some friends/mates. It <b><u>wasn't</u> </b><u>easy</u>. Harry had <u>special</u> requirements. If they could look <u>past</u> Harry's position; If they <b><u>seen</u> </b><u>Him</u>. . .They met the criteria. Someone to treat Harry "<i>normal</i>". Sometimes, Harry and his mates would escape, head for <u style="font-style: italic;">Windsor Bridge</u>. They would head to the underside of the bridge, where they would partake in smoking cigarettes (<i>tabbage</i>) in <u>privacy</u>. His mates did it to being on <u>autopilot</u>. <b><i>Sure, Harry fancied a cigarette after a <u>McDonald's</u> meal</i>; <i>who didn't</i>? </b> Of course, if Harry was to bunk off; he would've golfed with a beer. Still, Harry took <u>every</u> cigarette offered to him, In the same onclarance, Harry graduated to weed.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebl0CniTMchhgYb7XuPaDHlGGLcAmhrvwdEp03hZuQii8V3cuXmW9lZ0h8yqzI7EW1_OVUnqKWdFGOs5jzn7bnEcrVFsac4_Lp_ArjXHQl5G1f1xSkYkpSTWuZ3K32QsM8aR_zXijopUH_n0WfnNeKjxmbTWOArfpRP1MeDt0hM0BiHK5u7qS9O3TRw/s180/download.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="150" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebl0CniTMchhgYb7XuPaDHlGGLcAmhrvwdEp03hZuQii8V3cuXmW9lZ0h8yqzI7EW1_OVUnqKWdFGOs5jzn7bnEcrVFsac4_Lp_ArjXHQl5G1f1xSkYkpSTWuZ3K32QsM8aR_zXijopUH_n0WfnNeKjxmbTWOArfpRP1MeDt0hM0BiHK5u7qS9O3TRw/s1600/download.png" width="150" /></a></div>In an effort to fit in, Harry wanted to be a <u>TOP</u> funny bloke. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">allowed</u> the boys in his flat to shave his head after a smartass comment. Someone fetched the clippers. Someone else pushed Harry into a chair. When the cutter was done, Harry looked down and saw a dozen patches of hair on the floor. <u>Right</u> <u>then</u>, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> he'd made a <u style="font-weight: bold;">COLOSSIAL</u> <u>mistake</u>. He <u>ran</u> to the mirror and <i>screamed</i> in <i style="color: red;">horror</i>. His friends <i>screamed</i> in laughter. Harry ran around in circles wanting to <u>reverse</u> time. Not knowing where else to turn, Harry <u>violated</u> the <u>single</u> rule bestowed upon him <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> to be broken. Harry ran to William's room. Hoping for <u>comfort</u> from William, <u>instead</u> William laughed along with the others. Harry <u>remembers</u> William sitting at his desk, bent over a book, chuckling as Harry grappled in his mistake. William's only words to Harry were a <u>mere</u> matter-of-fact <u>obvious</u> point. After being unhelpful, Harry left his brother. What was worse. . . the <u style="font-style: italic;">Daily Mirror</u> caught slight of Harry's new hair. . The headline says <u style="font-style: italic;">Harry The Skinhead</u>. A schoolmate had sold Harry's night to the press. They had no photo to give. But, they improvised. The image <u>created</u> for the front page <u>looked</u> bad, but <u>not</u> that bad.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry <u>didn't</u> think it could get any <u>worse</u>. . .What a <u style="font-weight: bold;">grevious</u> mistake for a member of the Royal Family. Weeks later, the newspaper put it out there of Harry's accident. Harry had broken a thumb playing Rugby, <u>no</u> <u>big</u> <u>deal</u>. But, the papers incited that Harry was on life support. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Bad</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">poor</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">taste</u> under the circumstances of it being a little more than a year of their mother's accident. Harry had dealt with the press his <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> life, but they had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> singled Harry out. In fact, after their mom's death; it was an <u>unwritten</u> rule of treatment from the press to <u style="font-weight: bold;">lay</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">off</u>. Let the boys have an education <u>in</u> <u>peace</u>. <u>Apparently</u>, the agreement had <u>expired</u>, but of Harry being as a <u>delicate</u> flower. Or an asshole. Or <u>both</u> in the press. And knocking on death's door.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKc54TerTbXhFUBrFBUxoEwTIXtk2I-H6BYbiQw7-5RBUyg9JY7dv_iVsNSKM5Ne5DZSJWHzvsrWk4h1HUJbmOHgvhEHabU0ASJsexYhcqKrfhZbztJYQqCdXVSkpUr6eNbbhFYdhxOsNJDbC_kSvvDoMQIazyvNrI9y8W7x7JaYsn7fadMpITqJmnWw/s640/gettyimages-51459716.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="494" data-original-width="640" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKc54TerTbXhFUBrFBUxoEwTIXtk2I-H6BYbiQw7-5RBUyg9JY7dv_iVsNSKM5Ne5DZSJWHzvsrWk4h1HUJbmOHgvhEHabU0ASJsexYhcqKrfhZbztJYQqCdXVSkpUr6eNbbhFYdhxOsNJDbC_kSvvDoMQIazyvNrI9y8W7x7JaYsn7fadMpITqJmnWw/s320/gettyimages-51459716.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry read the articles <u>several</u> times. He was <u>marveled</u> at its larky tone. Harry's only existence was <u>pure</u> fodder for the tabloids. He was no longer a human being to them. They <u>didn't</u> <u>see</u> a 14-yr-old boy <b><u>hanging</u></b> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">on</b> by his fingernails. Harry was seen as a character to be manipulated and mocked for fun. So, what if their words were <u style="font-weight: bold;">torturing</u> a child? All was "<i>supposedly justified</i>" due to Harry's genes of Royalty.</div><div><br /></div><div>Charles' office forged a formal complaint, <u style="font-weight: bold;">demanding</u> an apology; accusing the paper of <u>bullying</u> his younger son. The newspaper told Charles to fuck off. Before <u>trying</u> to move on, Harry took <u>one</u> <u>last</u> <u>look</u> at the article. What took Harry by <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">surprise</u> was the <u>shitty</u> writing. This was coming from Harry being a poor student, a <u style="font-weight: bold;">dreadful</u> writer <i>at the time</i> and yet Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> the <u>illiteracy</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>. Harry had evidentiary support to the contrary. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">clearly</u> written by a <u>young</u> journalist. Soon to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">forgotten</u>, </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry <u>couldn't</u> pinpoint the source of which it laid, but it was <u>circulated</u> that Harry was cast in his role in the Royal Melodrama. Long before he was able to <u style="font-style: italic;">legally</u> drink a beer. It became dogma. Being given the <i>Naughty</i> title was what Harry swam <u>against</u>; the daily expectation Harry could never hope to shake. Harry <u>didn't</u> want to be naughty. He <b><u>wanted</u></b> to be <u>noble</u>. He <u><b>wanted</b></u> to be <u>good</u>, work hard, grow up and do something <u style="font-weight: bold;">meaningful</u>. But, <u>every</u> sin, <u>every</u> misstep, <u>every</u> setback triggered the same outcome and thereby reinforcing what was bestowed. Things <u>may</u> have been received differently <i>if</i> Harry had received good grades. But, he didn't and <u style="font-weight: bold;">everyone</u> knew it. His grades were <u>publicly</u> posted. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Commonwealth</u> was <u>aware</u> of his academic struggles, which were <u>largely</u> due to being overmatched at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">But</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> wanted to get down to the root of it all: Harry's mother; Diana.</div><div><br /></div><div>Studying and concentration wage a war with the mind. In Henry's teen years, he was waging an <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> war on his. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> fending off his <u style="font-weight: bold;">darkest</u> thoughts, its basest <u style="font-style: italic;">fears</u> - his <u>fondest</u> memories. The fonder the memories, the deeper the ache. Harry found strategies to deal with it. Some healthy. Some not. But, all quite effective. When Harry was forced to sit with a book - He <u style="font-weight: bold;">naturally</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">freaked</u> out. Naturally, He's trying to <u>avoid</u> the situation. <u style="font-weight: bold;">At</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">costs</u>, Harry <u>avoided</u> sitting <u>quietly</u> with a book. It struck him that the whole basis of education was <u>memory</u>. Harry's own memory. . .where life is stored. . . was the part of the brain that was <u>resisting</u>. Harry's memory had been spotty since his mom's passing, by <u>natural</u> design, and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> want to fix it. Fixing it = <u style="font-weight: bold;">dealing</u> with it. Not remembering was <u>balm</u>. Storing memories into a place where Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> to go to.</div><div><br /></div><div>It confused Harry due to remembering/memorizing <i>some</i> things; like lines from favorite films <u style="font-style: italic;">Ace Ventura</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">The Lion King</u>; he'd repeat them often to others or himself. So, despite his <u>clear</u> memory of not wanting to remember his mother, Harry was also trying gamely <u>not</u> to <b><u>forget</u> </b>her. It was also becoming <u>clear</u> that Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">meant</u> to be his father's opposite. What bothered their dad the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> was how Harry went <u>out</u> <u>of</u> <u>his</u> <u>way</u> to <u>avoid</u> books. Unlike Charles who <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> them. <u>Especially</u> <i><u>Shakespeare</u>.</i> Charles often peppered conversations quoting <u style="font-style: italic;">Shakespeare</u>. Charles' point was that due to their <u>shared</u> heritage, they should <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">recite</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Shakespeare</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hand</u>. Harry never doubted how much it upset his father that Harry <u>just</u> <u>wasn't</u> a <u style="font-style: italic;">Shakespearean</u> enthusiast. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> with <u style="font-style: italic;">Hamlet</u>. The story and prologue were <u>too</u> <u>close</u> to home for Harry. Harry <u>slammed</u> it <u>shut</u>. No, thank you! </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJYxQAz2cW13NHz6FqkEQvCxiMCshn1LIU664B_AKPemDMbGehf6e1pdQFaC7i5OIK6BTYaRNpP0RTB3BrfmCAondyJfUzstCrQJCj4ID8YfHF7m4DdRj22F6vU9M6-ckbHIyExQGg5hKcVcVmhz5STXwPqO93uyQzyzU7hMSoSK3LOlkdCLilqILXw/s2883/Of_Mice_and_Men_(1937_1st_ed_dust_jacket).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2883" data-original-width="1844" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJYxQAz2cW13NHz6FqkEQvCxiMCshn1LIU664B_AKPemDMbGehf6e1pdQFaC7i5OIK6BTYaRNpP0RTB3BrfmCAondyJfUzstCrQJCj4ID8YfHF7m4DdRj22F6vU9M6-ckbHIyExQGg5hKcVcVmhz5STXwPqO93uyQzyzU7hMSoSK3LOlkdCLilqILXw/s320/Of_Mice_and_Men_(1937_1st_ed_dust_jacket).jpg" width="205" /></a></div>Charles never stopped fighting the good fight. Finding ways for he & Harry to bond. Either way, it was torturous for <u>both</u>. The one piece of literature Harry does remember <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">enjoying</u> was a slender novel: <u style="font-style: italic;">Of Mice & Men</u>; one that Harry was assigned in <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> class. A story about friendship, about <u>brotherhood</u>, about <u>loyalty</u>. . .it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">filled</u> with inneundo's that Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">related</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> to. So true for these boys. Too bad, William was still pretending to ignore his brother.</div><div><br /></div><div>In early Spring 1999, Harry was home from <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> for the weekend. He was woken up to find his dad on the edge of his son's bed, stating that Harry was going back to <u>Africa</u>. Reason being the same old problem: Harry was facing a <u>long</u> school holiday; over Easter, and something needed to be done with Harry. So, an African safari it was. <u>Alone</u> with William. Harry was <u>so</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">excited</u> about the prospect of this safari. He mentally blocked out the in-between from the news of the trip to <u>actual</u> departure. They flew <u>direct</u> to Johannesburg, then by prop plane to Maun, the largest city in northern Botswana. There they met up with a large group of safari guides, who steered them among a convoy of open-topped land Cruisers. Driving off <u>straight</u> into <u>pure</u> wilderness, toward the vast <u>Okavango Delta</u>. As the travels continued, Harry had trouble catching his breath. A dream in which Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">taking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u>. Lots of high fives, bear hugs and names flying at them. When thinking of this trip, Harry's first thought goes <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> to their campfire. The campfire was where they collected their days activities. Staring into that fire, then up to the universe. Dropping your guard later into the night fire. As time passed, out came the whisky. Then laughter got louder. Harry <u>enjoyed</u> himself. Thinking to himself: <i>More of this, Please</i>. Harry had <u>always</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> the darkness <u>all</u> of his life. Africa cured him of his phobia. The campfire. Marko, the largest member of the group had similarities with Harry. Harry was a ginger, self-conscious about it, but Marko was an <u>extreme</u> ginger who <u>owned</u> it. Harry wondered how to be taught how Marko <u style="font-weight: bold;">embraced</u> himself. Marko was one who led by example. He was one big ginger Mardi-Gras. Harry wondered why <u>most</u> people weren't like this guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry <u>wanted</u> to ask his brother what it was like to have this experience, but <u>apparently</u> the <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> rule carried out over to Botswana. William <u>still</u> wanted <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> to do with his brother any more than if they were at school. When it would be "<i>suggested</i>" that Harry was going to bed, <u>always</u> before everyone else, Harry didn't squawk. The days were long and the tents were a <u>welcoming</u> cocoon. His bed was wrapped in a cozy African rug. For the <u>first</u> time, in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>; months/years, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">fell</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">asleep</u> <u>straight</u> <u>away</u>. Harry found the animal noise <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">soothing</u>. The later it got. <u style="font-style: italic;">Relaxation</u>. No matter how <u>loud</u> the animal, Harry could still hear Marko laughing. Before the end of the trip, Harry <u>promised</u> himself. . . .he was going to find a way to make this guy, Marko, laugh.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQWwLL-xohwOC5XOyntMSag0kc-D737chIl-_hTkH4P1Y4MpO6kI72xMjd06toDL_xQdCTEkVq9nENJ-NLMZbCDLQiwQZA4usckZyQUnCRUuXHTA5ZsvKcbSWRiq45LqbBw_tjn6hkZngSyigbkqIO3p3yZIPSn8ifqgUuAYR6_9IDJio_vlg3-7-iQ/s977/l-intro-1657914225.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="977" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQWwLL-xohwOC5XOyntMSag0kc-D737chIl-_hTkH4P1Y4MpO6kI72xMjd06toDL_xQdCTEkVq9nENJ-NLMZbCDLQiwQZA4usckZyQUnCRUuXHTA5ZsvKcbSWRiq45LqbBw_tjn6hkZngSyigbkqIO3p3yZIPSn8ifqgUuAYR6_9IDJio_vlg3-7-iQ/w200-h184/l-intro-1657914225.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Harry found similarities between him and others. One being their penchant for having a sweet tooth. They <u>both</u> particularly <u>loved</u> puddings. So, Harry being mischievous got the idea of spiking Marko's pudding with <u style="font-style: italic;">Tabasco</u>. After <u>realizing</u> the prank, Marko <u>laughed</u> after realizing that Harry was the culprit, taking it in stride. From then, Harry <u>couldn't</u> wait for the next night. As everyone began to enjoy their dinner, Harry tiptoed out the meal tent. He went 50 meters, into the kitchen tent and poured an <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">entire</b> teacup of <u style="font-style: italic;">Tabasco</u> into Marko's bowl of pudding. The kitchen crew <u>caught</u> Harry in his deed; but Harry put his finger to his lips. They chuckled. Scurrying back into the meal tent, Harry gave a wink. (<i>Mission Accomplished</i>!) He <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> told William of his pranks or kept his brother updated. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> William <u>wouldn't</u> have approved. Harry squirmed, counting the minutes until dessert was served, <u>fighting</u> <u>back</u> the giggles. <u>Suddenly</u>, someone <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> a difference. <u>WHOA</u>! <u>Shit</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div>In unison, <u>everyone</u> turned their heads. Everyone froze. <u>Except</u> Harry. Marko gripped Harry's shoulder. Harry turned back in time to see the adults all look around one another, mouths open. <b><u style="font-style: italic;">Holy</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Fuck</u>!</b> Their eyes <u>darted</u> towards Harry. <b><u style="font-style: italic;">Fuucck</u>!</b> They were all imagining the press banner back home. The world would reel. Harry would roll. Harry was thinking of his mother. A passerby leopard was a <u>felt</u> sign from her. All may have been well; but imagine the <i>horror</i>! As a Royal, you were taught to maintain a buffer zone between you and the rest of Creation. Of course, the family included distance as well. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> how much you love someone, you <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> cross that chasm between Heir Or Spare. Physically, but not emotionally. The older generation maintained a nearly <u style="font-weight: bold;">zero</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tolerance</u> prohibition on <u>all</u> physical contact. In Africa, royal rules were disbarred. In Africa, distance dissolved and creatures roamed <u>freely</u>. Utopia. It was through <u style="font-weight: bold;">seeing</u> this with his eyes that <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u> was what Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">craved</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">desired</u>. What he <u>yearned</u> for all of his life - <u><b>Life</b></u><b>!</b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">Realizing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u>, Harry's eyes were <u>opened</u> and <u>captivated</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> his surroundings and his environment. <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEING</u> it. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Appreciating</u> it. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Circle Of Life</u>. Around the campfire that night, everyone rejoiced in the river. Stories. Harry heard it all night.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOiPzNh7aIpkLwNYr6tfdkG8Xxhe1ofeJrotP3ZlttJnsExFPtOjzlbbeAIe8dHTChfejvhIg5l0Wbd7n7fTnbTNHmV8QygrqpOpRo4pQuNo3iPz7y6wuk7Cw4Tda5X9SuhHvTJ4vNflkF7lL8O2d5LsD9oOWR4Ta2n10Mod5sAZp3ZrxJS9WiVIFtQ/s300/unnamed.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="300" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOiPzNh7aIpkLwNYr6tfdkG8Xxhe1ofeJrotP3ZlttJnsExFPtOjzlbbeAIe8dHTChfejvhIg5l0Wbd7n7fTnbTNHmV8QygrqpOpRo4pQuNo3iPz7y6wuk7Cw4Tda5X9SuhHvTJ4vNflkF7lL8O2d5LsD9oOWR4Ta2n10Mod5sAZp3ZrxJS9WiVIFtQ/w200-h137/unnamed.png" width="200" /></a></div>Speaking of weirdness, the smell of marijuana waifed in the air. Voices grew <u>louder</u>. Harry asked if he could partake. Everyone gauffed. <i>Fuck off</i>. William looked at his brother in <u style="color: red; font-style: italic;">horror</u>. But, Harry <u>wouldn't</u> back off; stating he was <i>experienced</i>/ Heads rolled. . .calling Harry's bluff. Harry had previously slammed down 2- 6-packs <u style="font-style: italic;">Smirnoff Ice</u> with buddies drinking until they passed out. Harry boasted. Other pals allowed Harry to sip off their flask on stalking trips. Adults shrugged. One rolled a joint and passed it to Harry. He took a puff. Coughed, and puked. African weed was much <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">harsher </b>than at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. And the high was <u>less</u> too. The "<i>joint</i>" was just <u>fresh</u> basil wrapped in filthy rolling paper. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS1_RnCuYr51KXAnPjj51sdTotrLje7Jvao5YVVYQ5mjMmngnh2Pu27pYJsqWRDqwSCIstTKsLq1f5khd7N_4HStBLa0UQYN-5zdwkVdHytspOt0WjxjLKGJFPKJkTActpFbBVT3UCMx7-l5OF14HJp-EYWQkTLDyWImR3y6epl4190VrgLsvYMO6KA/s1333/prince-harry-william-diana-comp.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="1022" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS1_RnCuYr51KXAnPjj51sdTotrLje7Jvao5YVVYQ5mjMmngnh2Pu27pYJsqWRDqwSCIstTKsLq1f5khd7N_4HStBLa0UQYN-5zdwkVdHytspOt0WjxjLKGJFPKJkTActpFbBVT3UCMx7-l5OF14HJp-EYWQkTLDyWImR3y6epl4190VrgLsvYMO6KA/s320/prince-harry-william-diana-comp.webp" width="245" /></a></div>When they were kids, William & Harry would play with children who were friends of their dad's. As the youngest/smallest, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> took the brunt. But, he also did the <u>most</u> escalating, the <u>most</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">asking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u>. So, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">deserved</u> everything he got. Black eye. Violet welt. Puffy lip; Harry didn't mind. On the contrary, maybe Harry wanted to look tough. Maybe he wanted to <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">something</u>. Whatever his motivation, Harry wanted to hurt himself <u>more</u>. When Harry fought back in play, he would lose <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> control, all ability to <u style="font-weight: bold;">focus</u> on anything but family, country, tribe, and <b><u>hurl</u> </b><u>himself</u> at something, everyone. . . .just kicking ass. Harry didn't know how <u>effective</u> or skilled a fighter he was. But he always succeeded in providing enough diversion for William to get away. After it was <u>done</u>/over, Harry always felt such love for his brother, and he <u>sensed</u> love in return, but also some embarrassment. Harry was half William's size and half his weight. Harry was the younger brother: William was supposed to save his brother; not the other way around. When there was no one else present, William & Harry would turn on each other. Mostly, it was on the way somewhere. One time after a brotherly squabble on the road, the boys were then divided/separated after Charles <u>stopped</u> the car and shouted at William to get out of the vehicle. William then looked at Harry <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">furious</u>. He felt Harry had gotten away with everything. Looking from the backseat and onto the other car; Harry could <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u> his brother plotting his revenge. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry <u>tried</u> but <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> stomach hunting/shooting. Unlike William. Their dad was religious and felt that if you loved nature, you had to know when to leave it alone. Harry felt close to God and saw reasoning within his dad's words. It was all a form of worship. Harry wasn't religious, but a "<span style="color: red;"><i>blood facial</i></span>" was, to him, baptismal. It was all a part of something to experience. Harry loved skiing and he excelled at it. But, once his mother entered the forefront of his mind, Harry was buried under <u>his</u> <u>own</u> <u>private</u> avalanche of emotions. And questions that evaded him mentally. Harry tried to share his theory of their mother having disappeared mentally with his brother. William had the same notion and entertaining a <u>similar</u> theory. But, <u style="font-weight: bold;">ultimately</u> discarded it. Harry <u>wouldn't</u> <u>hear</u> of his brother's <u style="font-weight: bold;">harsh</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVIbJVWWguZeP1knwpqZxryyOA9MpefyqNUvG5pOpWzz5sNhAlwRgpUgQuamZx4pKYhocSA_dtK3pixxNtj15pH3B4NnVx1dPo4PDW0FF5S3VvuoV4fqC1obu5VsQSaR6BfvzxSN8yZLg8YAM7hf8EVY6jjV9z97sSRTn81vLnJkTl4sdGkc45IlCxlA/s421/2022_Logo_for_Neighbours.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="237" data-original-width="421" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVIbJVWWguZeP1knwpqZxryyOA9MpefyqNUvG5pOpWzz5sNhAlwRgpUgQuamZx4pKYhocSA_dtK3pixxNtj15pH3B4NnVx1dPo4PDW0FF5S3VvuoV4fqC1obu5VsQSaR6BfvzxSN8yZLg8YAM7hf8EVY6jjV9z97sSRTn81vLnJkTl4sdGkc45IlCxlA/w320-h181/2022_Logo_for_Neighbours.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When Harry was at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>, he was walking past the doors to the TV room; <i>one of his sanctuaries</i>. Almost every day, straight after lunch, Harry & his mates would head to the TV room and watch a bit of <u style="font-style: italic;">Neighbours</u> or other programming favorites. But in September 2001, the room was <u style="font-weight: bold;">packed</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">Neighbours</u> wasn't on. The news was on. And the news was a <u>nightmare</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to peer through the crowded boys to <u>see</u> the news. And the news was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">nightmare</u>. Harry asked the boy next to him. It was the events of September 11, 2001 happening <u>LIVE</u>! More-and-more boys gathered. Their eyes <u style="font-weight: bold;">glued</u> on the TV news. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Anxiously</u>. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">stunned</u> <u>silence</u>, in boyish confusion, they watched the <u>only</u> world they knew <u>disappear</u> into a cloud of smoke. Days later, Harry turned 17.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry would often wish to himself <u>first</u> thing in the morning and throughout the day that <u>maybe</u> his mother <u style="font-style: italic;">would</u> reappear. It had been 4 years since the accident. Maybe she forged herself a new life/identity. Mentally having the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">elaborate</u> of dreams at night. His mother was always wearing a disguise in these dreams. And yet, Harry would <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> recognize her. Before <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> form of communication, Harry would <u>snap</u> himself awake. He would look in/around the room, feeling the <u style="font-weight: bold;">crushing</u> disappointment. Only a dream. Again. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> in his heart. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was like a religious fanatic who believed the world would end on a particular day. He still hadn't mourned, still hadn't cried, except for a time at his mother's grave, still not processed <u>bare</u> facts.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7Fna8jyItArFQztI0Zy2eTnhVRciFl4fBkWiSEzeD78T--s10ihsPQCb0WtWPJ_MGBQcDUpw_z8BGkDHZBlR10Iqzv62O_CabprjuYGCJd_GNa-foutB70M1KKANx_5ULiSzlwcOGtOM8uoTXfNWy4whP-SVSsSQUg0LIYyaWqcRMUplJWZ1ylxGQw/s600/13-Family-Guy-Stewie-Griffin-coloring-sheets-1.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="464" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7Fna8jyItArFQztI0Zy2eTnhVRciFl4fBkWiSEzeD78T--s10ihsPQCb0WtWPJ_MGBQcDUpw_z8BGkDHZBlR10Iqzv62O_CabprjuYGCJd_GNa-foutB70M1KKANx_5ULiSzlwcOGtOM8uoTXfNWy4whP-SVSsSQUg0LIYyaWqcRMUplJWZ1ylxGQw/w154-h200/13-Family-Guy-Stewie-Griffin-coloring-sheets-1.jpg" width="154" /></a></div>Part of Harry's brain <u>knew</u>, but part of it was wholly insulated. . . .keeping his consciousness divided, polarized, gridlocked. Just as Harry wanted it. Sometimes Harry would have a <u style="font-weight: bold;">stern</u> talk with himself. He would <u>believe</u> it when he had <u>solid</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">proof</u>. With <u>solid</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">proof</u>, Harry thought he could <u>properly</u> mourn, cry and move on. Harry doesn't remember <u>exactly</u> how they landed on what they were looking for. Whenever they found themselves in possession, they'd gather together in a tiny upstairs bathroom, wherein they would assemble a line. They'd take a hit or 2, blow the smoke out of the window, then move to the next station, in rotation, until the mission was complete. Then they'd all head to one of their rooms and giggle over stupid shit on TV; especially <u style="font-style: italic;">Family Guy</u>. Harry felt an inexplicable bond with lead character, <u style="font-style: italic;">Stewie</u>, prophet without honor. Harry <b><u>knew</u></b> it was wrongfully bad behaviour. His roommates knew it too. They talked about it often; while stoned, about their education being wasted at <i><u>Eaton</u>.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>They even made a <u>pact</u> to <u>quit</u> <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><u>cold</u> </span>turkey throughout the time of final exams. But, the <u>very</u> <u>next</u> <u>night</u>, lying in bed, Harry heard this ruckus in the hall. Heading to the loo, Harry could <u>tell</u> that his mates had broken the pact they made. Harry got out of bed and joined in. They split without bogarting the joint in question; shaking their heads. One night, while high, Harry's stationed security looked <u>peaceful</u> and still <i>out there</i>. In his life, Harry thought it was so <u>peaceful</u> in the world. In the same high context, Harry seen a fox and they <u>both</u> froze looking at each other. Thanks to the high from the weed; Harry felt a <u>piercing</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">powerful</u> kinship with his fox. He felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">such</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">connection</u> to the fox than <u style="font-weight: bold;">anyone</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">else</u> at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. This little fox felt like a messenger, sent to them from another realm. If only Harry knew what the message was. </div><div><br /></div><div>Whenever Harry was home from school, he hid himself upstairs; throwing himself inside his video games playing <u style="font-style: italic;">Halo</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">endlessly</u>. Hiding in the basement beneath <u style="font-style: italic;">Highgrove</u>, usually with William. The boys would start a typical weekend evening by sneaking into a nearby pub; where they'd engage in a few drinks, a few pints of <u style="font-style: italic;">Snake Bite</u>, then round up a few guys and bring the buck to <u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>(<i><u>Highgrove</u></i>). There were never more than 15 give-or-takes. They got on well, and sometimes more than well. Sometimes <u>innocent</u> with the <u>not</u>-<u>so</u>-<u>innocent</u> drinking of <u style="font-style: italic;">Rum/Coke</u> or <u style="font-style: italic;">Vodka</u>, with a splash of <u style="font-style: italic;">Red Bull</u>. They were often tipsy, and sometimes smashed, and yet, no drugs were used in the process. Their bodyguards stayed nearby with a sense of <u>boundaries</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u> was the <u>perfect</u> hideout for teenagers. When Harry <u>wanted</u> <u>peace</u>, <u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u> provided it. When Harry wanted <u style="font-style: italic;">mischief</u>, <u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u> was the <u>safest</u> place to act out rebellion. The same goes for solitude. William felt the same. Harry sensed a serenity around William in <u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u>. It was a <u style="font-style: italic;">relief</u> to be somewhere that William didn't feel the need for estrangement from Harry. When it was <u>just</u> the 2 brothers in there; they'd play games, listen to music or talk. With loud music in play, William tried to talk about their mother. <u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u> felt like the <u>one</u> place to broach the unbroachable. Just one problem: Harry <u>wasn't</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> to go there. He changed the subject. William would be frustrated. Harry wouldn't acknowledge. Being <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">obtuse</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> emotionally unavailable was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> a choice Harry made. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> ready. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">even</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">close</u> to <b><u>ready.</u></b></div><div><br /></div><div>One topic that was safe was how <u>safe</u>/<u>wonderful</u> it felt to be <u>unseen</u>. They talked <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">length</b> about the <u>glorious</u> <u>luxury</u> of <u>privacy</u>. Their <u>one</u> <u>true</u> haven. They were <u>never</u> found from the press. At the end of 2001, Marko visited Harry at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. An excuse to bunk off and leave school <u>with</u> all smiles. While hanging out with Marko, Harry <i>sensed</i> that Mark was questioning him of his recent loss in virginity. An <u>inglorious</u> episode with an older female. Much like this woman's <u>love</u> of horses, she treated Harry like a young stallion. <u style="font-style: italic;">Quick</u> ride. After which she smacked Harry on the ass and sent him off to gaze. Only <u>one</u> wrong problem: It was in a grassy field behind a busy pub. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Obviously</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">someone</u> had to have seen them.</div><div><br /></div><div>The <u>biggest</u> tabloid had called their dad's office to say they'd "<i>uncovered</i>" evidence of Harry doing drugs in various locations; including <u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u>. Also a bike shed behind a pub. (<i>Not the pub where Harry lost his virginity</i>). The editor of Britain's <u>biggest</u> tabloid laid claims that were <u>evidentiary</u> <u>lies</u>. One claim was that Harry was a drug addict. Harry offered a way out, but the editor was now <u>vowing</u> to not only <u style="font-weight: bold;">GET</u> his story on Harry; but <u style="font-weight: bold;">GET</u> at Marko. Harry thought the Palace would kill the press' story. <u>Instead</u>, the Palace opted to play ball with the press. It was the <u>same</u> spin doctor Charles & Camilla had <u>recently</u> hired to throw Harry <u>right</u> <u>under</u> the bus. In one swoop, this would appease the editor and bolster Charles' reputation. This one <u>shiny</u> consolation prize for Charles; no more the <u>unfaithful</u> husband; Charles could now present himself as a harried single dad coping with a drug-addicted child. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was back at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>, trying to <u style="font-weight: bold;">focus</u> on his studies and <u>remain</u> <u>calm</u>. Harry listened to go-to soothing CDs of nature. At night, shutting off the lights, Harry hit <u>play</u>. Those sounds from the CDs were Harry's <u>only</u> way to sleep. After a few days, the meeting with Marko receded from consciousness. It began to feel like a nightmare. But then Harry woke up to the <u>actual</u> nightmare. Front Page Headline: <u style="font-style: italic;">Harry's Drug Shame</u>. In January 2002, more headlines came from Marko's <u>lies</u>. One minute it was habitual drug use; the next it was <u style="font-style: italic;">rehab</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">Rehab</u>. The editor had gotten ahold of photos of Harry & Marko's entering a rehab facility all due in part of charitable Princely duties. Repurposing the photos for tabloid fodder. Harry felt sickened, horrified. He could imagine his country believing these <u style="font-weight: bold;">lies</u>. What <u style="font-weight: bold;">hurt</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u>. . . Harry felt <u>heartbroken</u> at the idea that this was partly the responsibilities of his <u>own</u> family: including his dad and Camilla. They had abetted in this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry called William in need of a brother. He couldn't speak. William was sympathetic; but this was part of Royal life. From there, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Rehab</u> stories <u style="font-weight: bold;">escalated</u> from the Press. <u style="font-style: italic;">Club H</u> was made to sound <u style="font-weight: bold;">WAY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WORSE</u> than it <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> was. Even spectators from Charles came to investigate the rumors thinking Harry was hiding what <u>wasn't</u> there. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdToZ0Ss2O5GrbmDc-ZKBDZujbroW8rbLgp3LPh_thS_69_K-KTCO2H8Ki1L5jfHDcZeKvsX5t9L2zYbi5vg_lrZVmEOzAlt-rasOL8hyU7c7_d_vOAFjsjwZPKwEJSYYHNqFQ4H5FieaxJi_1FpQWXi3eftdb2SjwnFmHSNzL4fuKxr9dnS7GQOM6BQ/s1600/179dd6fb35e8d113a67254d64f8b41ea.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="1600" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdToZ0Ss2O5GrbmDc-ZKBDZujbroW8rbLgp3LPh_thS_69_K-KTCO2H8Ki1L5jfHDcZeKvsX5t9L2zYbi5vg_lrZVmEOzAlt-rasOL8hyU7c7_d_vOAFjsjwZPKwEJSYYHNqFQ4H5FieaxJi_1FpQWXi3eftdb2SjwnFmHSNzL4fuKxr9dnS7GQOM6BQ/w200-h163/179dd6fb35e8d113a67254d64f8b41ea.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>It was <u>strange</u>. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> mourning to <u>just</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">party</u>. But, months later came the 50TH Anniversary of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Golden Jubilee</u>. Over 4 days in Britain, it was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">chaos</u>. While Harry wondered how his grandmother kept an imperturbable serenity, he was an <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolute</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">wreck</u>. There were <u style="font-weight: bold;">several</u> reasons for Harry's <u style="font-style: italic;">nervousness</u>, but the main one was a brewing scandal. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just before the <u style="font-style: italic;">Jubilee</u>, Harry was accosted by one of the couriers and <u>flatly</u> asked if he was involved in cocaine. It was a <u>setup</u> with others wanting a GO at him. He was <u>not</u> submitting to blackmail. <i>Of course</i>. . . Harry <i>had</i> been doing cocaine around this time. <i>The press didn't need to know that</i>. At someone's country house, during a shooting weekend, Harry was offered a line and done a few more times. It <u>wasn't</u> much fun, and it <u>didn't</u> make him <u>particularly</u> happy, as it did for others around him. But, it did make Harry feel <u style="font-style: italic;">different</u>, and that was the <u>main</u> goal. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Feel</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Different</u>. Harry was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> unhappy 12-yr-old boy willing to try <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> that would alter the status quo. That was what Harry told <u>himself</u>. Back then, Harry could lie to himself as <u>effortlessly</u> as he had lied. At this point, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> that cocaine wasn't worth the candle. The risk <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">outweighed</u> the reward.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMO-7zlCRQkhx8sIdfajNl3J5tLAgMs9AWBUwFChIF8enPENVDc9ulHkXc9QpDQRFpN3DL90WsOcGyN8TqvTOJ-a3KyBO_IHCWXTvzFbWjU08dpjRXtmoemVSwMWWhuupyxW8duyZdACC4B0Wuv5meFtScg5PRoD4G05X34r50cA7HFcoJ13yiu78eQ/s1000/COMP-JD-CLARENCE.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="845" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikMO-7zlCRQkhx8sIdfajNl3J5tLAgMs9AWBUwFChIF8enPENVDc9ulHkXc9QpDQRFpN3DL90WsOcGyN8TqvTOJ-a3KyBO_IHCWXTvzFbWjU08dpjRXtmoemVSwMWWhuupyxW8duyZdACC4B0Wuv5meFtScg5PRoD4G05X34r50cA7HFcoJ13yiu78eQ/s320/COMP-JD-CLARENCE.webp" width="270" /></a></div>Harry played the game well. After calling the journalists' bluff, he went <u>silent</u>. (<i>Or maybe not.</i>) The journalist slithered into <u style="font-style: italic;">Clearance House</u> and became very good friends with Camilla & Charles. Harry was ashamed for lying. <u>But,</u> also <u style="font-weight: bold;">proud</u>. In a <u>tight</u> spot, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">hadn't</u> felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> <u>serenity</u>; but at least managed to <u>protect</u> it. Harry channeled his grandmother's heroic stoicism. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">regrets</u> lying, but the alternative would've been 10x <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Tuesday, the culminating day of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Jubliee</u>, marvelous many said it was miraculous it was that Harry's grandmother was so hip, given the array of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">greatest</u> artists of the century performing; including Paul McCartney, that Harry's grandmother was <u>so</u> <u>hip</u>! Sitting <u>directly</u> behind her, Harry couldn't help thinking the same thing. To see his grandmother tapping her foot and swaying in time, Harry <u>wanted</u> to hug her, though he didn't. <u>Out</u> <u>Of</u> <u>The</u> <u>Question</u>. Harry had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> done that and couldn't imagine <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> circumstances to which an act was sanctioned. As the concert went on-and-on, Harry began to feel tired. Harry had a headache from the <u>loud</u> music, and from the stress of the last few weeks. His grandmother showed <u>no</u> <u>signs</u> of <u>stopping</u>. <u>Still</u> tapping/swaying.</div><div><br /></div><div>Suddenly, Harry looked <u>closer</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u> in her ears. As Harry looked <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">closer</b>, he saw that his grandmother had yellow earplugs. Harry looked into his lap and smiled. When he lifted his head again, Harry watched in glee as his grandmother kept time to the music she couldn't hear, or music she found a subtle way of controlling with distance. More than ever, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to hug his grandmother.</div><div><br /></div><div>Whatever/whenever their dad resided, Harry lived there as well. When he wasn't living at <u style="font-style: italic;">Manor House</u>. Harry's final year at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> was approaching. His dad wanted to discuss life thereafter. Everyone was moving on. Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">considered</u> working at the ski resort where his mother took them. Such wonderful memories. Harry especially wanted to work at the fondue station in the center of town, which their mother <u>loved</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> their fondue; hoping to work that particular station. Instead, Harry took up the notion of becoming a ski instructor. That was <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">question</u> for his dad. Same for a safari guide. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to do something <u style="font-weight: bold;">outside</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">box</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Part of Harry wanted to drop out & disappear - as his mother did. Another part of him felt <u>hugely</u> <u>ambitious</u>, Harry, may have been a royal, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">worried</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">quite</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">lot</u> about <u>making</u> <u>his</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">own</b> way,</div><div>finding <u>his</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">own</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">purpose</u> in the world.</div><div><br /></div><div>Their dad was discouraged from hard work. He had been advised that the Heir shouldn't "<i>do too much</i>" for <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u> of outshining the Monarch. But, his father rebelled against it & listened to his <u>inner</u> voice. He wanted the <u>same</u> for Harry. His dad <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> that college university <u>wasn't</u> in Harry's DNA. Harry <u>wasn't</u> against it. . . per se. He even poured over the literature of one university for its <u style="font-style: italic;">Art History</u>. (<i>One was for the pretty ladies in said course as a reason</i>). But, Harry couldn't picture himself spending years bent over a book. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">secret</u> that Harry <u>wasn't</u> the family scholar. No Digs Indeed! Just Facts! </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGrSFziGbjym70SFWlnpBTG57C2k74J5WADnt2BvavnakmlNt5LXBOLBioHNDwBurZV6cl4LY1_aya3X9XhLJmMQiOzHh2L-cf_FF5Mt7iFxseXhIi7BL5g8uTgIsr5lqkL8r113eimbfg1svJDqneEqRI_82_smR7UO31lcWWb0AuKfD9L-I38ilLw/s590/Prince-Harry-to-visit-Mildmay-hospital-following-Diana-s-footsteps-in-fight-against-HIV-626562.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGrSFziGbjym70SFWlnpBTG57C2k74J5WADnt2BvavnakmlNt5LXBOLBioHNDwBurZV6cl4LY1_aya3X9XhLJmMQiOzHh2L-cf_FF5Mt7iFxseXhIi7BL5g8uTgIsr5lqkL8r113eimbfg1svJDqneEqRI_82_smR7UO31lcWWb0AuKfD9L-I38ilLw/s320/Prince-Harry-to-visit-Mildmay-hospital-following-Diana-s-footsteps-in-fight-against-HIV-626562.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Father/son weighted what to do. After going back/forth and by a process elimination they landed on the Army. It made <u>sense</u> It aligned with Harry's desire to disappear outside the box. The military took Harry from the <u>public</u> to blend in. it also fit in with his desire to <u>make</u> <u>a</u> <u>difference</u>. And it is accorded with Harry's personality. His <u>favorite</u> toy as a child were miniature soldiers. Hours of play. Harry's dad <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">agreed</u>. The Army was just the key. So, Harry sat down with Marko and devised a plan. Spending half the year working on a farm in Australia. As for the second half of the year, Africa. Harry wanted to join the fight <u>against</u> AIDS. An homage to his mother; an explicit continuation of His Mother's work. It didn't need to be spelled out for him. </div><div><br /></div><div>After Marko's research, Harry came back and said: Lesotho. Harry <u>admitted</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> hearing of it. After being <u>educated</u> on the matter, Harry has seen <u style="font-weight: bold;">loads</u> of work <u>still</u> to be done. Harry was <u>overjoyed</u> with a plan. <u>At</u> <u>last</u>! After hanging out with friends in 2002 and telling of his plan. . . .<i>Good for Harry</i>! They talked about Africa with plans to meet up there. Hoping to find themselves side-by-side into battle or helping others on the other side of the world. The world. The <u>future</u> and what it held. Harry worried about it. Then, just before Christmas 2002, Harry received a call. His friend and another boy were leaving a party and drove into a tree. The call was blurred. Harry's reaction was similar to that of his mother's demise. One of the boys had passed away. The other boy, the driver, had been <u>critically</u> injured. William & Harry had gone to the funeral. Afterward, unlike their mother, there was <u>no</u> <u>way</u> the press could spin this into a disappearance. <u>This</u> was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">death</u>; no way around it.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyprQy4GCt5_vxfJF88E9IVz-FAOgJdC9tLrx2R75Kd1QhrwxBg1kR6HcSwwH5P876y-uzugbxhiHQ5FYeO2DWH5TcCiPkP5Z9A-Q8CWdArDqtgznQetIucztJ8_ICpnYr-LiHYjPQo3mt7tWbmv8tplpjoaffP4UYJ4hqLg0uVxMeXcWQQPxSpfgfAg/s1722/much-ado-about-nothing-184.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1722" data-original-width="1188" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyprQy4GCt5_vxfJF88E9IVz-FAOgJdC9tLrx2R75Kd1QhrwxBg1kR6HcSwwH5P876y-uzugbxhiHQ5FYeO2DWH5TcCiPkP5Z9A-Q8CWdArDqtgznQetIucztJ8_ICpnYr-LiHYjPQo3mt7tWbmv8tplpjoaffP4UYJ4hqLg0uVxMeXcWQQPxSpfgfAg/w221-h320/much-ado-about-nothing-184.jpg" width="221" /></a></div>Harry wouldn't be able to be released from <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> until he performed in one of their formal dramas before letting him go. It was ridiculous. But, <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> took the dramatic arts <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u>. In Spring 2003, it was <u style="font-style: italic;">Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing</u>. Harry was cast as Conrade, a minor character. With the way the character was written, the way that Harry played the role, he saw it as a bit of typecasting. Stories write themselves. <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>'s drama department instructed Harry to have fun with the role. <u style="font-style: italic;">Whatever</u>. Whatever it took to get the <u>hell</u> out of <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. <u>This</u> acting was the <u>way</u> <u>out</u>. Harry <u>learned</u> it was wrong and <u>reductive</u> to see this role through his side of alcohol consumption.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry found it easy to throw himself into such a ride, and during dress rehearsal, Harry had a <u>hidden</u> talent. Being royal wasn't that far from being onstage. Acting was acting, <u>no</u> <u>matter</u> the context. Opening night, Harry's father sat <u>dead</u> <u>center</u> into a <u style="font-weight: bold;">packed</u> theatre. No one had a better time. Here it was. A dream came true, a son performing <u style="font-style: italic;">Shakespeare</u>, and he was getting his money's worth. Charles' emotional reactions were <u>all</u> <u>over</u> <u>the</u> <u>place</u>. Later on, backstage, Charles was all compliments. They were both <u>baffled</u> by one another's reaction to the play. Only to find out, Charles mimicked what he seen from <u>his</u> <u>own</u> father. Harry's <u>only</u> focal point was that his father was <u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>. In person. That was <u>more</u> than a lot of kids had. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">appreciated</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">valued</u> his dad coming, giving him a kiss on the cheek.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry <u>completed</u> his education at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u> in June 2003, thanks to <u style="font-weight: bold;">hours</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">work</u> and a bit of <u>extra</u> tutoring arranged by Charles. While Harry wasn't proud of himself; exactly, exactly because he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">how</u> to be, he felt a distinct pause in his nonstop <u>internal</u> self-criticism. And then Harry was accused of cheating. An art teacher had come forward with claims of evidence that were found to be <u>un-based</u> <u>claims</u>. Harry was later <u>cleared</u> by the exam board. But, the damage was done and the accusation <u>stuck</u>. Brokenhearted, Harry wanted to hold a press conference to <u>clear</u> <u>his</u> <u>name</u>. <i><u>The Palace</u></i> wouldn't allow him. In this, <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> stuck to the family motto: <i>Never complain. Never explain</i>. Especially if the complaintant was an 18-yr-old boy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thus, Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> to idly sit-by as the papers called him a cheat <u style="font-weight: bold;">daily</u>. (<i>All due to an art project</i>) This was the <u>official</u> start of a dreaded nickname: Prince Thicko. Just as Harry was cast in an <u style="font-weight: bold;">unwanted</u> role in an <u style="font-weight: bold;">unwanted</u> play, Harry was <u>now</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> to sit in a cheater role. The difference was the play was for 3 nights. Cheater would be a role that lasts <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u>. Harry, in near <u style="font-weight: bold;">despair</u>; spoke to Charles. Charles apparently had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>read <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> of it. He read <u>everything</u> else, but <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> the news. The problem was that everyone else <u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u>. Harry's family may not have; but British press <u>suggested</u> otherwise. </div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;">Lesotho</u> was beautiful. But also one of the <u>grimmest</u> places on Earth. It was the epicenter of the global AIDS pandemic, and in 2004, the government declared a medical disaster. <u>Tens</u> <u>of</u> <u>thousands</u> had fallen to the disease, and the nation was turning into a vast orphanage. Harry and a friend signed up to help at several charities & schools. They worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u>, gladly and eagerly. They <u>built</u> schools. They <u>repaired</u> schools. Harry and his friend mixed gavel, poured cement, <u style="font-weight: bold;">whatever</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u>. In this same spirit of service, Harry <u>agreed</u> one day to perform a task that might otherwise have been <u style="font-weight: bold;">unthinkable</u> - an interview. If Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> wanted to shine a light on conditions to help; he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">choice</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> cooperate with the press. This was <u>more</u> than cooperating. This would be Harry's <u style="font-weight: bold;">first</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> <u>solo</u> session with a reporter. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry explained this situation to this reporter. He began asking. Why <u>this</u> place? Of <u>all</u> places? Harry stated that the children in <u style="font-style: italic;">Lesotho</u> were in trouble, and Harry loved children, <u>understood</u> them, so <u>naturally</u> Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to help. Why did Harry love children? They matched his maturity. The subject of children opened the door to Harry's childhood, leading the gateway to the subject of Harry's <u>own</u> childhood. What they <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> wanted to know. Harry looked off and responded with a sense of disjointed words. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVgYEgK2rHRzlj1nGxNVAP4RaDB03Q8pgkUlJfpSJmrql5QI0NLlnwuD2GgLzQAzVeRicYqx1GA6KHJu2lVSC6yK62-LHqvSyR1BICizz57EsFvCoGdM-B81KZuniOCz2bmjJBEIOzFEk1KRUgdRayT45xvGUL5W812APYcRadLuCqohu5JGXM_H--Q/s499/51NOCBbfvBL._SX326_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVgYEgK2rHRzlj1nGxNVAP4RaDB03Q8pgkUlJfpSJmrql5QI0NLlnwuD2GgLzQAzVeRicYqx1GA6KHJu2lVSC6yK62-LHqvSyR1BICizz57EsFvCoGdM-B81KZuniOCz2bmjJBEIOzFEk1KRUgdRayT45xvGUL5W812APYcRadLuCqohu5JGXM_H--Q/s320/51NOCBbfvBL._SX326_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>Harry had referenced to recording his mother had made prior to her demise, a kind of quasi-confessional, which was leaked to the press to coincide with the release of Paul Burrell's memoir. History was repeating itself, and Harry told the press reporter that it was a "<i>shame</i>". That was the first time that either William or Harry <u>ever</u> spoke publicly about their mom, for fear it would cause a disruptive stir, and perhaps shine an unflattering light on Camilla. The reporter referenced Harry's most recent scandal over Harry's supposed trip to a rehab clinic. Harry could <u>barely</u> make out the reporter through the sudden red mist. Harry blurted out something about not being "<i>normal</i>"; which caused the reporter's mouth to drop open. He was getting the news fix he desired.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry explained what he meant to be "<i>normal</i>". He didn't have a "<i>normal</i>" life. Harry told the reporter that <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> but his brother <u style="font-weight: bold;">understood</u> what it was like to live in this surreal fishbowl, and the abnormal was <u>routinely</u> normalized. That was what Harry was <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">trying</i> to say, <u>starting</u> to say; but Harry took another approach:</div><div>. Poverty</div><div> . Disease</div><div> . Orphans</div><div> . Death</div><div><br /></div><div>It made everything else bullshit. In <u style="font-style: italic;">Lesotho</u>, no matter what you were going through, you were well-off compared to others. Harry began to feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> ashamed, and wondered if the journalist felt the same. After the interview, Harry went off to find his friend and they in turn drank a beer. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Gallons</u> of beer. It was also the night that Harry smoked an <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> shopping bag of weed. It could've been another night than this one in question. . . .Who Knows? </div><div><br /></div><div>In March 2004, Harry and his crew were staying in the home of a consulate general, and one night they discussed having people over. Just one small problem, they <u>didn't</u> <u>know</u> <u>anyone</u> in Cape Town. Some of the ladies seemed immune to the common affliction called "<i>throne syndrome</i>". It was similar to the effect that actors/musicians have in people, except <u>they</u> had talent. Harry had no talent - so he's been told. This all was in reaction to Harry having <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> to do with <u>him</u>. It was more like a title or legacy. Harry always wanted to know what it might be like to meet a lady and <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> have their eyes widened at the mention of his lineage, but <u>instead</u> to widen himself; using his mind and heart. This particular young lady, Chelsy, was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u>uninterested</u> and bored with his title.</div><div><br /></div><div>They decided to stick to what they had in common - Africa. Shared experiences through conversation. At some point in the evening, Harry told her he'd soon be entering the Army. He couldn't gauge her reaction. They spent 3 days walking, laughing, drinking, and mingling with the animals. <u>Not</u> <u>just</u> wild animals. Later that night, Harry and this young lady had their first kiss under the stars. They had heard of a nearby camp. 2 filmmakers were doing a wildlife documentary and they were invited to join along. They jumped into a <u style="font-style: italic;">Land Cruiser</u> and soon found themselves in the middle of a raucous bush party. It was an <u style="font-style: italic;">Okavango Carnival</u>. They could tell how at <u>home</u> Harry felt around this community. <i>Harry's body was born in Britain. But, his <u>soul</u> was born in Africa</i>. <u>That</u> was the <u>highest</u> compliment Harry could've <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> gotten. After a few days of <u style="font-weight: bold;">getting</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u><b> </b>them; Harry felt an <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelming</u> peace. And an <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelming</u> sense to see this lady again. Question was: <i>How Does One Make This Happen <u>Without</u> The Press</i>? The<u> resolution</u> was to drive for 2 days <u style="font-weight: bold;">nonstop</u>, drinking whiskey and eating chocolate for energetic purposes. Harry arrived at this young lady's front door barefoot, scruffy with a beanie top on his head, a <u>huge</u> smile creasing his <u>dirty</u> face.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_5xLTCZn74yIxylXcI20w1XRIQ5AYx-LDnrTDILUTvPdMbMSCfQ1Jw1X-e6xDCeeFKLzo5OPGS2sTtVTIX7XtylMBXY-WFJpNvvW9te1IcJiqufGktsDwPrgdIPT00T5vFLJGvDNqSa3p6wQaGiPGWAHvvqfxxMCINRGEyDhUOseZ-ksy6cZhHM0JQ/s200/rmas_grad_200.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_5xLTCZn74yIxylXcI20w1XRIQ5AYx-LDnrTDILUTvPdMbMSCfQ1Jw1X-e6xDCeeFKLzo5OPGS2sTtVTIX7XtylMBXY-WFJpNvvW9te1IcJiqufGktsDwPrgdIPT00T5vFLJGvDNqSa3p6wQaGiPGWAHvvqfxxMCINRGEyDhUOseZ-ksy6cZhHM0JQ/s1600/rmas_grad_200.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Harry and this young lady, Chelsea, learned an <u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> lesson: Africa was Africa. Britain was always Britain. After their arrival from <u style="font-style: italic;">Heathrow</u>, there was the press. There had been a few years, after his mom's passing, when Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">hardly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> papped, but now it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">constant</u>. This <u>wasn't</u> something Chelsea could handle what Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">used</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u>. This was Harry's life. If she wanted to share <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> of it, she'd have to get used to it as well. Thereafter, Harry put his chances at 50/50. Or 60/40 that he'd see Chelsea again. Odds were, the press would cost Harry someone he cared about. Harry tried to reassure himself that it was fine, that he didn't have time for a relationship. Harry had work to do. For starters, Harry was facing the entrance exams <u style="font-weight: bold;">required</u> for the <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Military Academy</u> at Sandhurst. The exams took 4 days, and they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> like those at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. There was <i>some</i> backwork, <i>some</i> written stuff, but <u>mostly</u> they were tests for psychological <u style="font-weight: bold;">toughness</u> and leadership skills. Turns out. . .Harry had both: Passing with flying colors. Harry was <u>delighted</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry's trouble concentrating, his trauma over his mother; <u>none</u> of that came into play. <u>None</u> of that counted against him with the British Army. On the contrary, <u>that</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> what the Army was <u style="font-weight: bold;">looking</u> for. Lads like Harry. Every area fits Harry to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">perfect</u> to join. Along with his passing, Harry received a report date. . . several months away. Giving Harry time to gather his thoughts, tie up loose ends. Even better, time to spend with Chelsea. She had invited Harry to Cape Cod to meet her parents. He did and liked them <u>instantly</u>. They were <u>impossible</u> not to like. Harry didn't know what the future held. He didn't want to put the cart before the horse. If Harry could've designed future-in-laws from the ground-up; he couldn't have imagined better <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>.</div><div> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAWtsgyM6f5yV3SrwiwsRqaGBC_YJBb7FAuzMDRFO6FO6J5yJlODqDW9Vl4z7uDMP024J7neBH3Jl0jKteHKb6-6PJ66pp08CemU_kWt_YKFIN2DkOI_kMlW9dMdI6hNqEFQzibeiOTzUrWEq85u6pmyZcyAJFBzNxYKcUJeQfmSYdIc6aca1dEiygg/s885/Untitled_design_(77).png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="885" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAWtsgyM6f5yV3SrwiwsRqaGBC_YJBb7FAuzMDRFO6FO6J5yJlODqDW9Vl4z7uDMP024J7neBH3Jl0jKteHKb6-6PJ66pp08CemU_kWt_YKFIN2DkOI_kMlW9dMdI6hNqEFQzibeiOTzUrWEq85u6pmyZcyAJFBzNxYKcUJeQfmSYdIc6aca1dEiygg/s320/Untitled_design_(77).png" width="320" /></a></div>Just as Harry was embarking on his new romance, Charles announced that he decided to marry. Charles asked his mother (<i>The Queen</i>) for permission; and she'd <u>granted</u> it. <u>Reluctantly</u> it was reported to the press. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Despite</u> William & Harry's <u style="font-weight: bold;">urging</u> their dad <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to, Charles was going through with it. They shook their father's hand, and wished him well. <u>No</u> <u>hard</u> <u>feelings</u>. The boys realized their father was <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> going to be with the woman he <u>loved</u>, the woman he <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u>. The boys sympathized with Charles & Camilla as a couple. They had taken the term "<i>star-crossed lovers</i>" to a new term. The wedding would take place at <u style="font-style: italic;">Windsor Guildhall</u>. But then the Pope died. It would've been bad press. Bad Karma. More to the point, their grandmother wanted to represent his mother at the funeral.</div><div><br /></div><div>Due to <u>delay</u>-<u>after</u>-<u>delay</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">constant</u> change of plans and feeling sorry for them, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">help</u> but think that some force in the universe (<i>Perhaps Harry's mother</i>,<i> Diana</i>) was <u>blocking</u> rather than blessing their union. When the wedding did finally take place <u>without</u> their grandmother, who chose <u>not</u> to attend - it was almost cathartic for <u>everyone</u> - including standing near the altar. Harry mostly kept his head bowed; eyes on the floor, just as he did his mother's funeral; but Harry did sneak several long peeks at the groom and the bride each time thinking: <i>Good for them</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Farewell to their dad. Harry <b><u>knew</u> </b><u>without</u> <u>question</u> this marriage would take Charles away from the boys. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u> in any <u>real</u> sense, not in any deliberate or malicious way, but nevertheless, their father was entering a closed space where William & Harry would see <u>less</u> of their dad, Harry predicted, leaving him with mixed feelings. Harry didn't relish in losing another parent. Harry had complex feelings about gaining a step-parent, whom Harry felt had sacrificed him on her <u>personal</u> PR altar. But, Harry saw their dad's smile, and it was hard to argue with that, and harder to deny the cause: Camilla. Harry wanted his father's happiness. In a funny way, Harry even wanted Camilla to be Happy. Maybe Camilla would've been less dangerous if she were happy? Harry does <u>remember</u> watching them...thinking: <i>Damn</i>:<i> Harry would've liked for all of them to be happy</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Around this time, just prior to the wedding, or just after, Harry went off with William to train with <u style="font-style: italic;">The British Special Boat Services</u>. <u>Mostly</u> messing around Harry and the family kept in close touch with the British Military. Nothing showed <u style="font-weight: bold;">respect</u> for the military like doing, or trying to do, what they did. Exercises were kept from the press. It was The Boy's mother who took William & Harry on their first military exercise. They were being taught how to respond "<i>if ever</i>" their lives were in danger. But, this day was different. <u>Much</u> <u>more</u> physical, <u>more</u> participatory. <u>Less</u> about teaching, <u>more</u> adrenaline. In the <u style="font-weight: bold;">pitch</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u>, 4 steps from the bottom, Harry fell, landing on his left knee, which was <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> impaled in a fixed bolt sticking to the floor. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Blinding</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">pain</u> washed over him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry managed to get up, keep going, and finish the drill. But, at the end of the exercise, they jumped off the boat's helipad. into the water, and Harry found his knee <u>wasn't</u> working. His <u>whole</u> leg <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">working</u>. When Harry got out of the water and stripped off the dry suit, William looked down and turned pale. Harry's knee was <b><u>gushing</u> </b><span style="color: red;">blood</span>. Paramedics were there in minutes. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> announced some weeks later that Harry's entry into the Army would be postponed. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Indefinitely</u>. Reporters questioned the injury. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">excused</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u> with a lying Rugby injury. Reading the papers, Harry's leg iced and elevated, he threw his head back and laughed. He couldn't help <u>savoring</u> one small particular of self-indulgent glee on the papers, for once, <i>unwittingly</i>, printed a lie for him. They soon got their revenge, however. They began pushing a story that Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> the Army. That he was faking a knee injury as a way of stalling. Calling Harry a coward.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghk5ZbVPZamcxVeS5cUIA3YLdut2CiEJ6VENK9Hd3LeMwDbP4QZvwQXYrer1ntwclJkKE9zgqvL51zaRMkf2mWjZ_ockv3AqD9YCzlX1G0rZIdc69quQ2k9xA2mn2cri1XgNfyLL1GZ8boXaxCKgeJ1MQASjLZ0aHlEIhgDSD3fiUlNIbNmTSrQCxKVw/s1899/prince-william-and-kate-middleton-10th-anniversary-shutterstock-0421-2000-2ccbf6378ee44fe98f47bd8578102ecb.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1899" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghk5ZbVPZamcxVeS5cUIA3YLdut2CiEJ6VENK9Hd3LeMwDbP4QZvwQXYrer1ntwclJkKE9zgqvL51zaRMkf2mWjZ_ockv3AqD9YCzlX1G0rZIdc69quQ2k9xA2mn2cri1XgNfyLL1GZ8boXaxCKgeJ1MQASjLZ0aHlEIhgDSD3fiUlNIbNmTSrQCxKVw/s320/prince-william-and-kate-middleton-10th-anniversary-shutterstock-0421-2000-2ccbf6378ee44fe98f47bd8578102ecb.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>Harry didn't love the fancy-dress parties. And he <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> <b><u>stand</u></b> the themes. He found them to be irritating and baffling. He was much more <u>casual</u> and himself <u>alone</u>. Harry was crashing all over the place; some with his dad and Camilla, other places elsewhere. Living out of a suitcase; so Harry <b><u>couldn't</u> <u>care</u> <u>less</u> </b>about clothes. Being fancy-dressed with a theme was Harry's <u style="font-weight: bold;">nightmare</u>. <u>Fuck</u> <u>that</u>! But, big brother, William insisted. His new girlfriend <u>promised</u> to help. Harry liked this new girlfriend. She was carefree, sweet & kind. Her name was Kate. Due to William's attire, Kate & Harry had a great time pointing fingers at him and rolling around the floor. It was <i>ridiculous</i>, especially in a 3-way mirror. Harry liked seeing Kate laugh. Moreover, Harry <u>liked</u> making her laugh. Harry was quite good at it. They <u>connected</u> to each other's humor. Harry told himself how <u>great</u> everything would be when he had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> girlfriend who could laugh along. He could make Kate laugh with his costume. What was Harry going to be? That was the topic of conversation.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1f_A3Colfxy7UvWaccEb48FkBRxFPdopUzP6N_37OWL0_HW6_divrOgiwY258ICJePi8i6Q94mQCqBEl5tUMo1HWQcKTajl9zg-T8nNezDEks6iFs9ZZNhavlXWhzeFTjJ3O6GKiHqwEHTjdSA-JVLlk9zDEPUVGB8hf8Ka8z9m0JnEBcXN2X5nPM5w/s940/TELEMMGLPICT000319079675_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bq-IWLY18X4-CzgyIcjLEAj0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="790" data-original-width="940" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1f_A3Colfxy7UvWaccEb48FkBRxFPdopUzP6N_37OWL0_HW6_divrOgiwY258ICJePi8i6Q94mQCqBEl5tUMo1HWQcKTajl9zg-T8nNezDEks6iFs9ZZNhavlXWhzeFTjJ3O6GKiHqwEHTjdSA-JVLlk9zDEPUVGB8hf8Ka8z9m0JnEBcXN2X5nPM5w/s320/TELEMMGLPICT000319079675_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bq-IWLY18X4-CzgyIcjLEAj0k9u7HhRJvuo-ZLenGRumA.webp" width="320" /></a></div>On the day of the party, they ventured to a nearby village to a costume shop. Harry went up/down the rows, sifting through the racks, seeing nothing he liked. With time running out, Harry narrowed down his options: A British pilot's uniform. And a sand-colored Nazi uniform. With a swastika armband. And a flat-cap. They questioned Harry's choice. He rented it, along with the moustache, and went back home. William & Kate <u>laughed</u>. Which was to be the point. But, the moustache needed trimming, so Harry made the adjustments. Then added some Cargo pants. Off they went to the party, where <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> looked twice at his costume. Everyone else was <u>more</u> <u>focused</u> on getting drunk and groping each other. No one took <u style="font-weight: bold;">notice</u> of Harry; which was a small win. Someone did indeed snap photos.</div><div><br /></div><div>Days later, this same someone saw a chance to make some cash, or some trouble and sought out a reporter. The crown jewel of the photos was <u style="font-style: italic;">thought</u> to be William in a leotard. <u>But</u>, the reporter spotted <i><u>something</u> <u>else</u></i>. Weeks later, the photo was published to the press. What followed was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">firestorm</u> that gave Harry what he <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he deserved. There were moments over the course of the next several weeks/months. When Harry thought he might've died in <u>shame</u>, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> thinking. When he saw the photos, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">recognized</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> that his brain <u>must've</u> shut down. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to explain himself <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u> Britain. But, it wouldn't have made a difference. Judgment was swift. <u>Everyone</u> had their opinions.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0K7A_IJnAC2w6XadnxfgD9wYP1Kjwx2TqIHKFcZz_pUwytVS7xxF-fjiDS2aHrN-8YaesMDDYBR44giBwArY6468Xs7QRzE8sj-tfjszeG-3SQdiTejcnGpL13IL9dlHDKzAB93AZpa_CvD0ZbO3RjxMgDZRepaSvFCMxcU-0OAYONmI6RxNfRMqFYg/s640/AP_795859943224-640x400.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0K7A_IJnAC2w6XadnxfgD9wYP1Kjwx2TqIHKFcZz_pUwytVS7xxF-fjiDS2aHrN-8YaesMDDYBR44giBwArY6468Xs7QRzE8sj-tfjszeG-3SQdiTejcnGpL13IL9dlHDKzAB93AZpa_CvD0ZbO3RjxMgDZRepaSvFCMxcU-0OAYONmI6RxNfRMqFYg/s320/AP_795859943224-640x400.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chief Rabbi</td></tr></tbody></table>Harry turned to William. He was sympathetic, but not much to say. Then, Harry called their dad. To Harry's surprise, their dad was serene. At first, Harry was <u style="font-style: italic;">suspicious</u>. Playing father to bolster his PR ego. The <u>exact</u> <u>opposite</u>. But Charles spoke to Harry with such tenderness, <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuine</u> compassion. Harry was disarmed & <u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u>. Charles didn't gloss over the facts. Harry's cheeks were <span style="color: #e69138;">burning</span>. Charles explained that he remembers what it meant to be <u>young</u>. Explaining that youth, by definition, is so <u>un</u>finished. Still growing and still learning. Harry knew of Charles' humiliations thanks to books and other media publications. He promised that the <u style="font-style: italic;">fury</u> about this would blow over and the shame would fade. Charles <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">about</u> humiliation. Day-after-day, the scandal grew. Harry was exconated in newspapers, the radio and TV. Members of Parliment called for Harry's head on a spike. In order for this to blow over, Harry & Charles called for reinforcements. He would <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to make some sort of public atonement. So, Charles sent Harry to a <u>priest</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chief Rabbi Of Britain was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> than his title. He was an eminent scholar; a religious philosopher, a prolific writer with a dozen books to his name. He offered Harry a cup of tea, then <u>dived</u> <u>straight</u> in and he didn't mince words. He <u>condemned</u> Harry's actions. He wasn't unkind, but it <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> be <u>done</u>. There was <u>no</u> <u>way</u> around it. Charles placed Harry's stupidity on <u>historical</u> content. Harry arrived at his house feeling <u style="font-weight: bold;">shame</u>. He felt something else; a <u style="font-weight: bold;">bottomless</u> self-loathing. That <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> the Rabbi's aim. He urged Harry to <u>not</u> be devastated by his mistake, but instead be <u>motivated</u>. He spoke to Harry with the eloquence of <u>forgiveness</u>. Harry was showing his <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u> nature, by seeking his atone. Seeking absolution. To the extent that he was <u>able</u>, Harry was <u>absolved</u>. He was given <u>grace</u>. Use this experience to make the world <u>better</u>. To become a teachable moment.</div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> what Harry did, the calls grew louder for him to be <b><u>barred</u></b> from the Army. The top brass, however, were holding <u>fast</u>. Due to not being in the Army <u>yet</u>, Harry was free to be a numb-nuts. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmY0cp45MgCR6vN4Zemj6X8t2lDmSrDlEIO7bVMXIPg388U6OnnkI9-kbhjDcCbStewGXm5tFHUtelx8XShzvGYOoG9zNvhR9zrzDAMEzBNfr6o--QuVv2VJKxj7uDEFoczNIfLz-WcXeMMpSTfVQJ3FP8QJXlyYNmqkTdjtkx5Lf0kbNeKhNBuVjGg/s300/347143559_211912378307190_8115880872171202370_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmY0cp45MgCR6vN4Zemj6X8t2lDmSrDlEIO7bVMXIPg388U6OnnkI9-kbhjDcCbStewGXm5tFHUtelx8XShzvGYOoG9zNvhR9zrzDAMEzBNfr6o--QuVv2VJKxj7uDEFoczNIfLz-WcXeMMpSTfVQJ3FP8QJXlyYNmqkTdjtkx5Lf0kbNeKhNBuVjGg/w200-h200/347143559_211912378307190_8115880872171202370_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Harry carried a small overnight bag containing a few <u>personal</u> items, plus one standard-size ironing board; placed under his arm like a surfboard. The Army <u style="font-weight: bold;">instructed</u> Harry to bring it. From here-on-out, Harry's trousers would be crease-free. Harry knew as much about operating an ironing board as he did about driving a tank - <u>less</u> <u>actually</u>. That was now the Army's problem. Harry, himself, was now the Army's problem. So, Harry wished the Army <u>luck</u>. So did their dad, who dropped Harry off at the <u>proper</u> location. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst</u>. It was May 2005. Charles <u style="font-weight: bold;">watched</u> Harry put on his <span style="color: red;">red</span> name tag, <u>WALES</u>, then signed in. Charles told reporters how happy and proud he was. And off Harry went with a photo-op. <u>Click</u>. Harry was assigned to a platoon of 29 others. Early the next day, you could <u>smell</u> the <u>history</u> - it steamed from the wood. They then recited an oath to the Queen.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMZvFr9LLWBklDWLZuZegmnDd3daUlEjPY7SLlesVc1x7R2MjaH0SNjxmzFcFKyRJ6MhNZNZGRHMjt64m7wNazGndGlaf400egYkqE7T1ZEVDezxQ18jTTAkqzMKLnP8bt8dthkROFl0aEVtEaR0RU_Zm7MNJ4Xzz51kroOFrizj3GV4T9xopsnculg/s2000/Prince-Harry-Military-Career-From-Enlistment-Invictus-Games-0003.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMZvFr9LLWBklDWLZuZegmnDd3daUlEjPY7SLlesVc1x7R2MjaH0SNjxmzFcFKyRJ6MhNZNZGRHMjt64m7wNazGndGlaf400egYkqE7T1ZEVDezxQ18jTTAkqzMKLnP8bt8dthkROFl0aEVtEaR0RU_Zm7MNJ4Xzz51kroOFrizj3GV4T9xopsnculg/s320/Prince-Harry-Military-Career-From-Enlistment-Invictus-Games-0003.webp" width="232" /></a></div>Boot camp - <i>what a <u>ridiculous</u> name</i>. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">pushed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">their</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">limits</u>; physically, mentally, spiot ritually. They were then dragged to a place <u>beyond</u> <u>their</u> <u>limits</u>, and then a bit <u>further</u>, by color sergeants. They got <u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">into</u> the faces of Harry and his comrades, <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shouting</u> through a cloud of aftershave, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">let</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u>. They belitted them, harassed them and made <u>no</u> <u>secret</u> of their intent. They were <b><u>meant</u> <u>to</u> <u>break</u> </b>them. If they <u>couldn't</u> break them. . .<u>Congrats</u>! You were in the Army! If they <u>could</u> break them, even better. Better to know now. Better to be <u>broken</u> <u>down</u> from them then by the enemy. Using a variety of approaches. Physical duress, psychological intimidation - and humor? Within 2 weeks several cadets had topped out. They awoke to find their beds made & their stuff gone. Some of Harry's fellow cadets would confess, before lights out, they <i>feared</i> being next. For the most part, Harry was <u>fine</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Boot camp was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">picnic</u>, but Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> wavered in his beliefs that he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> where he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">meant</u> to be. He thought they <u style="font-weight: bold;">could</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> break him. Why is that> Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">already</u> broken.</div><div><br /></div><div>No matter what they did, it was done <u>away</u> from the press. So far, Harry, everyday was kind of a holiday. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</u> could <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u> <u>hurt</u> Harry in a place where the press couldn't find him. - And then they did. - A reporter from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Sun</u> sneaked onto the grounds, and stumbled around, holding a <u>phony</u> bomb with <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> to <u>prove</u>. Their explanation was to expose the training center's <u>lack</u> of security, to "<i><u>prove</u></i>" Harry's <u>danger</u> status. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>, upon waking up at 5:00A.M., they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> ro down a huge bottle of water. More like Piss Water. After the guzzling, moments prior to setting out on their morning run, some of them would fall to the ground and regurgitate said water, then get out there again for a post-puke run.</div><div><br /></div><div>The running was <u style="font-weight: bold;">constant</u>, sometimes they ran with 40K. on their backs, sometimes a <u>huge</u> <u>loss</u>. Running until passing out, which they sometimes did whilst <u>still</u> running. They would lie there; half-conscious, legs still <u>pumping</u>. In between runs, they ran <u style="font-weight: bold;">sets</u> of exercises to <u>qualify</u>. At night, something <u>more</u> than <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">pain</u> would creep into their bones. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u>, <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shuttering</u> throb. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> to escape it other than to disassociate from it. Surrender yourself from yourself. If you did, you were more of a unit. Harry bought into it, <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Himself? He was <u>ready</u> to shed dead weight. </div><div>Identity? Take it </div><div>Harry <u>rejoiced</u> slowly and steadily.</div><div><br /></div><div>Feeling himself being reduced to an essence. <u>Only</u> his <u>vital</u> self remained. It was an <u style="font-weight: bold;">enormous</u> gift Harry was being given from <u>everyone</u>. With that, Harry gave <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuine</u> thanks.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStFk60BXZ7m6--OwDFJ4k0NXnYkMg5BnJiEGbUL9zPA3BUDP96gCfUjaNDZj4H4UdpYcjhIFa3Gc2L9QpZo2mrAcE6c4_wYdorN8xKjolDgMi4PM-7UCQnKNhgdCLxWb7tI3C9juN2PkKFPKMB6abdMTC7TqcnO1GiuTCiXLDpxDCwtI1sHAILbnjDg/s1200/brookwood-military-cemetery.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStFk60BXZ7m6--OwDFJ4k0NXnYkMg5BnJiEGbUL9zPA3BUDP96gCfUjaNDZj4H4UdpYcjhIFa3Gc2L9QpZo2mrAcE6c4_wYdorN8xKjolDgMi4PM-7UCQnKNhgdCLxWb7tI3C9juN2PkKFPKMB6abdMTC7TqcnO1GiuTCiXLDpxDCwtI1sHAILbnjDg/s320/brookwood-military-cemetery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After the first 5 weeks, after the close of boot camp, the cadets were treated more like soldiers. So much as it was time to learn about war. How to make it and win it. The exercises were supposed to be about war; but to Harry they were about death. The whole Leitmotif of Army training was death. How to avoid it; but also to <u>face</u> it, head-on. It felt <u>natural</u> to Harry, therefore, almost inevitable, that they were put on buses and taken to <i><u>Brookwood Military Cemetery</u></i> to stand on graves and listen to someone read a poem.</div><div><br /></div><div>Poetry, for Harry, was <u>slightly</u> preferable to History. And psychology. And military strategy. The <u>struggles</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">understand</u> in hard chairs to analyze and memorize dates, analyzing famous battles, writing essays on the most esoteric concepts of military strategy. Given a <u>choice</u>, Harry would've taken 5 more weeks of boot camp. Harry fell asleep in <u style="font-style: italic;">Churchill Hall</u>; <u>more</u> <u>than</u> <u>once</u>. Week 12-or-13, they were learning of guns/grenades. Due to his vast experience at the age of 12, Harry was a <u><b>great</b></u> shot. But, now, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>In late summer, they were shipped to Europe and put through the punishing exercise called <u style="font-style: italic;">Long Reach</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Worse</u>, Europe was suffering a <u style="font-weight: bold;">historical</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>heatwave and they set out the crest of the wave, the <u style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">hottest</u> day of the year. On Friday, they were told <u>this</u> exercise would run through that Sunday night. Late that Saturday, during their <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">enforced</u> rest, they slept in bags on a dirt track. After 2 hours, they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">awakened</u> by thunder and hard rain. Harry was in a group of 5, and then stood up, held their faces to the rain drinking and <u>taking</u> <u>in</u> the drops. But then they were wet. It was time to march. <u>Sopping</u> <u>wet</u>, in driving rain. Gradually, Harry felt his resolve start to give way. At a momentary stop, <u>checkpoint</u>, Harry felt a <u style="color: #ffa400; font-style: italic;">burning</u> in his feet. He sat on the ground, pulled off his right boot and sock, and the bottom of his foot peeled away. Trench foot. It was <u>then</u> that Harry was told he <u style="font-weight: bold;">could</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> continue. <u>Shit</u>! Harry was gutted, but also a bit relieved. They were on a country road. In a nearby field stood an ambulance. Harry staggered toward it. As it got Some, medics lifted him onto an open tailgate. After examining his foot, the march for Harry was <u>over</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3d8WhzPn1WoT4K3wCGau-yz9mKrjkzAV3GHwWHVM6qsLTFgd_ShjaO2YGdz4wCGl6RQ3fxFobl4lWLt985INVjWDvnfwVk6VJJUxkfsR86tgQRA_Pd3gZeInxCTGItzbQI1zsPZ4IFxzA8ahgu4QPedklhLuZMRWZF25NAYp4BMyka1u0YRp0y3y6w/s3352/130202024517-prince-harry-afghanistan-wales.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3352" data-original-width="2412" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3d8WhzPn1WoT4K3wCGau-yz9mKrjkzAV3GHwWHVM6qsLTFgd_ShjaO2YGdz4wCGl6RQ3fxFobl4lWLt985INVjWDvnfwVk6VJJUxkfsR86tgQRA_Pd3gZeInxCTGItzbQI1zsPZ4IFxzA8ahgu4QPedklhLuZMRWZF25NAYp4BMyka1u0YRp0y3y6w/s320/130202024517-prince-harry-afghanistan-wales.jpg" width="230" /></a></div>Harry's team was ready to leave. But then one of their color guards asked to speak with Harry. He hopped off the tailgate and limped over to him near a tree. He spoke to Harry in a <u>level</u> tone. It was the <u>first</u> time in <u>months</u> that Harry wasn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">shouted</u> at. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Yelling</u> a pep talk to keep Harry going - he limped over to the ambulance, asked for all the zinc oxide tape, Harry wrapped his feet <u style="font-weight: bold;">tightly</u> and jammed them back into his boots. Upward and onward, forward. He tried to find <u>some</u> <u>way</u> to distract himself from the <u style="font-style: italic;">agony</u>. They were near a stream. Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">thought</u> the icy water would be refreshing. But no. <u>All</u> he could think of is the feeling of rocks in the bed pressing against <u>raw</u> flesh. The last 4 miles were the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">difficult</u> steps <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> taken. As they crossed the finish line, he began to hyperventilate with <u style="font-style: italic;">relief</u>. One hour later, back at camp, everyone went <u>on</u> for the next several days. They shifted about the barricades like old men. But, <u>proud</u> old men. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry may have been <u>exhausted</u>, though he was lonely. He felt <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">radiant</i>. He was in the shape of his life. He was thinking and seeing more <u>clearly</u> than ever before. Everything felt <u>right</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Everything</u> had to be <u>pristine</u>, in order & right. Some rules for <u>privacy</u> made Harry <u>laugh</u>. Rules. Privacy. What is that? At the end of each day, he'd sit in his cell, <u>shining</u> his shoes. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> where Harry was; rules to follow. Afterward, he'd text Chelsy; due to being able to keep his phone for security reasons. After speaking with her, Harry would loan his phone to other cadets to text their significant others. Then it was lights out. No problem. <u>Just</u> then, Harry was <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> <u>remotely</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">fearful</u> of the dark.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_V3NMfhhWVnzpQTdLUxWoIT6sB6282MjUiY213pXgLUuWHROQN3b2-VhacBdHu0uWXZ5h9hEu1YEEvOE0O5mpk4BeiQjOWttl22X_1aI3dtXX2ky5K5aEDGSePwS2o-AzMuKZIVMCoTgbztKuJBKpMcGuDwhgmI1-6bI2nCXaLBjSznxVxOcH14M1Q/s2048/ent-082212-prince-harryjpg-13005c8dc9854f2e.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1358" data-original-width="2048" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_V3NMfhhWVnzpQTdLUxWoIT6sB6282MjUiY213pXgLUuWHROQN3b2-VhacBdHu0uWXZ5h9hEu1YEEvOE0O5mpk4BeiQjOWttl22X_1aI3dtXX2ky5K5aEDGSePwS2o-AzMuKZIVMCoTgbztKuJBKpMcGuDwhgmI1-6bI2nCXaLBjSznxVxOcH14M1Q/s320/ent-082212-prince-harryjpg-13005c8dc9854f2e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It was then <u style="font-weight: bold;">official</u>. He was <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> Prince Harry. He was now titled part of the Household Cavalry; bodyguard to the Monarch. The "<i>passing out</i>" took place on April 12, 2006. Family was in attendance. Harry's grandmother hadn't attended a passing out parade for <u style="font-weight: bold;">decades</u>, so her appearance was a dazzling <u>honor</u>. She smiled as William saluted. He was at <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandhurst</u> now as well. A fellow cadet. (<i>William started after Harry, due to going to college first.</i>) William <u>couldn't</u> resort to his typical attitude when they went to the <u>same</u> institution, <u>couldn't</u> pretend to not know his brother - or he would've been insubordinate. For <u>one</u> <u>brief</u> <u>moment</u>, <i>Spare</i> <u>outranked</u> <i>Heir</i>. As the day petered out, the adults left, and the <u>real</u> partying <u>began</u>. A night of <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> drinking and raucous laughter. Chelsea was his date. There were 2 passing out ceremonies that evening. Harry woke up the next morning with a wide grin and a slight headache. . . .Onto the next stop. </div><div><br /></div><div>Southern Iraq, was where Harry's unit was relieving another's post. In that <u>same</u> month, 10 British soldiers had been killed. In the previous 6 months; <u>40</u>. Harry searched his heart. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u>. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">committed</u>. He was <u>eager</u>. But also: war, death, whatever/anything was better than remaining in Britain, which was a battle in itself. The papers had written a story about William leaving his brother a voicemail, pretending to be Chelsea. Also a story about Harry reaching out for help on a research paper. <u>Both</u> stories were <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u>. <b><i><u>But</u>, how could they have known that</i>?</b> It made Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">paranoid</u>, as well as William. It reminded them and reconsidered their mom's paranoia; though a <u style="font-weight: bold;">whole</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">new</u> lens. They did a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dive</u> into the circles around them; close & outer reaching. They even suggested their bodyguards, whom they <u style="font-weight: bold;">cherished</u>. They'd always been like big brothers to them. They <u>suspected</u> <b><u>everyone</u>!</b> <u>No</u> <u>one</u> was <u>above</u> it. Harry seen it as a <u style="font-style: italic;">relief</u> to be in a <u>proper</u> war zone, which broke from <u>daily</u> traditions. Harry begged to be put-on-a-battlefield where there were <u>clear</u> rules of engagement <u>with</u> a <u style="font-weight: bold;">sense</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">humor</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Once Britain's <u style="font-style: italic;">Ministry Of Defense</u> told the world in February 2007 that Harry was deploying; it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">OFFICIAL</u> Harry was off to war. PR was <u>divided</u>. Half were <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">furious</u>; calling it dreadful to send a royal into a warzone. <u>Half</u>, however, said <u>bravo</u>. Harry should've fought for a country his family represented. One of the insurgent leaders had a plan to kidnap him, then decide what to do with him - torture, ransom, kill. In seeming/direct contradictions of this plan, it was concluded to promise to return Harry "<i>without ears</i>". Harry remembers hearing that and the tips of his ears growing <span style="color: #ffa400;">warm</span>. Days later, another insurgent leader invoked Harry's mother. Stating that Harry should learn from his mother's <u>example</u>, break away from the family. (<i>Rebel <u>against</u> the imperialists, Harry.</i>) Or else, the insurgent <u>warned</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>2 Months after announcing Harry's deployment, the head of the Army <u>abruptly</u> called it off. Outside of public threats from insurgent leaders, British intelligence learned Harry's photo was distributed among Iraqi snipers with instructions that Harry was "<i>the mother of all targets</i>". It was this thanks that Harry was a <u>danger</u> to others around and considered a "<i>bullet magnet</i>". And the reason stated was the press. In the public statement <u>canceling</u> Harry's deployment, he <u>blasted</u> journalists for their overwrought coverage, their wild speculations; which had "<i>exacerbated</i>" the threat level. Charles' staff released a statement, saying Harry was "<i>very disappointed</i>", which was <u>untrue</u>. Harry was <u>crushed</u>. He took a moment to collect himself, then inferred the bad news. Though they spent <u>months</u> travelling, training together, becoming brothers-in-arms. . .these boys were now <u>on</u> <u>their</u> <u>own</u>. Harry didn't feel sorry for himself. He worried about his team. Someone would've had to take over to perform Harry's job, living with presumed <u>guilt</u>.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1TD6YdaVtSXl6uploKaHXgN00BZdPSRkyNu_xVtk0SMTD2HGYHVOO_TmUsgjT8BhUbi_BtnkVK3fVGTzo0Ds_WIB8XqLc2pc5MjA4yE_sHqUUDRnbLBMt8kzDEjTJ041yUD-A0GAEWs2TOMuyzOYLsO_sF22_7Dc0dzXvxvCOC38wcHMlZAqy6DSog/s480/princeharrydrink_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqqVzuuqpFlyLIwiB6NTmJwfSVWeZ_vEN7c6bHu2jJnT8.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1TD6YdaVtSXl6uploKaHXgN00BZdPSRkyNu_xVtk0SMTD2HGYHVOO_TmUsgjT8BhUbi_BtnkVK3fVGTzo0Ds_WIB8XqLc2pc5MjA4yE_sHqUUDRnbLBMt8kzDEjTJ041yUD-A0GAEWs2TOMuyzOYLsO_sF22_7Dc0dzXvxvCOC38wcHMlZAqy6DSog/s320/princeharrydrink_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqqVzuuqpFlyLIwiB6NTmJwfSVWeZ_vEN7c6bHu2jJnT8.webp" width="320" /></a></div>The following week, several papers <u>reported</u> that Harry was in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">depression</u>. Some papers eluded that Harry's about face in his deployment was his <u>own</u> doing. The <u>cowardly</u> story again. Harry pondered quitting the Army. What was the point if Harry couldn't <u>be</u> a soldier? He talked it over with Chelsea. He talked it over with William, whom shared complicated feelings as well. He sympathized as a soldier. But as a sibling? A highly-competitive older brother. Most of the time William & Harry didn't have any qualms with the Heir-Spare nonsense. But, now/then Harry'd be brought up short and <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> that <u>some</u> level it <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">mattered</u> to him. Professionally, personally; William <u>cared</u> what his brother stood and what he was doing. <u>Not</u> getting <u>any</u> comfort from any quarter, Harry looked for it in <u style="font-style: italic;">Red Bull & Vodka</u>. And a gin & tonic. Harry was photographed around this time going in/out of multiple pubs/clubs, house parties at <u>long</u> hours. </div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't so much the photos the next day; what Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">bear</u> was the sound of <u>clicking</u>. No matter its location; it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">triggering</u> for him and made his heart race, but after <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandhurst</u>, it sounded like a gun-cocking or a blade being notched open. <u>More</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">traumatizing</u> & <b><u>traumatic</u>!</b> from the flash. The Army had made Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b>able to <u>recognize</u> threats, to <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u> threats, to become <u style="font-weight: bold;">heightened</u> in the face of said threats, and now it's casting him aside. Harry was in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">bad</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">bad</u> place. The paparazzi somehow caught wind of Harry's mental state. Deliberately trying to <u>incite</u> him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANYTHING</u> to probe him for a response, resorting to <u>violence</u> for a better photo and thus a better payout. Harry got into a scrap that became <u>big</u> news. He walked away with a swollen nose and his bodyguard was <u style="font-weight: bold;">pissed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">livid</u>. The paparazzi had been grotesque people; but Harry reached maturity level, they were <u>worse</u>. You could <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u> in their eyes and their body language. The editors <u>promised</u> <u>publicly</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">again</u> send photographers to chase after what happened to Harry's mother, Diana. Now, 10 years later, here they were again. </div><div><br /></div><div>The editors were still <u>inciting</u> and rewarded handsomely to <u>stalk</u> Harry's family, or <u>everyone</u> <u>else</u> unlucky enough to be deemed famous or newsworthy. And <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> gave a shit. Some would say that Harry asked for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">hounding</u> press. <i>But</i>, <i>how do you ask for what was <u>there</u> <u>prior</u> to your birth</i>? Harry began a very strange routine between himself and security. When leaving a club or anywhere in 2007, he would have the car pull into a back alley or underground parking lot, climb into the trunk, while bodyguards shut the lid, and Harry would lie there in the dark, hands across his chest, while they ferried Harry home. It felt like being in a coffin. But, Harry <u>didn't</u> <u>care</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5IXgPOgbR08roUPNGmrfo2rnUPTqFQZT-MYjEfoIaRi0dvJUh3TtlWEEkjnBLGDAqF0Ct_F1zgXVkPFJcbKpdNUzy450q8cmh-6-ZC1x07mvYwIdGoIqxGWFbDQblyPpenbuQUFNBdI2Gqyf75JvSHr6vXwl_2Qy2-D3y8LDPPqqTl4zD2n8lmCUiQ/s700/MV5BMjFjMjQxOTEtZTY1MS00NWU1LWE4YTAtZDZhMDg5ZjU3MTI5XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTY2MzYyNzA@._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="521" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5IXgPOgbR08roUPNGmrfo2rnUPTqFQZT-MYjEfoIaRi0dvJUh3TtlWEEkjnBLGDAqF0Ct_F1zgXVkPFJcbKpdNUzy450q8cmh-6-ZC1x07mvYwIdGoIqxGWFbDQblyPpenbuQUFNBdI2Gqyf75JvSHr6vXwl_2Qy2-D3y8LDPPqqTl4zD2n8lmCUiQ/s320/MV5BMjFjMjQxOTEtZTY1MS00NWU1LWE4YTAtZDZhMDg5ZjU3MTI5XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTY2MzYyNzA@._V1_.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>To mark the 10TH anniversary of their mom's passing, William & Harry organized a concert in her honor. While in planning the event, the brothers were <u>emotionless</u>. <u>All</u> <u>business</u>. But on the night of the concert, standing backstage; looking at those in attendance, <u>feeling</u> the pulsing energy; that pent-up love and longing for their mother. . . .the boys <b><u>broke</u>!</b> During Elton John's rendition of <u style="font-style: italic;">Your Song</u>, and during the chorus, William & Harry tried for the <u>same</u> energy; but then photos of their mom began flashing on the screen. Each one is more radiant. The boys went from being crumpled to being swept away. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to say something in a speech. But, it was still <u>too</u> much, <u>too</u> raw. The <u>only</u> thing Harry could muster that cane from his heart, was a shout-out to his team.</div><div><br /></div><div>Days later, Harry was in Botswana with Chelsea. They'd stayed with <u>cherished</u> friends in Harry's life. It felt like bringing Chelsea home to a Mom/Dad relationship. One afternoon, as they were all getting ready to go for a walk.A buddy began nagging him. Harry, tired of it, caught himself calling out his friend like a Mom. "<i>Okay, Mom</i>". <u style="font-weight: bold;">IMMEDIATELY</u> catching himself and so did his friend. It flew out of his mouth. But, Harry didn't correct himself. Both friends were <u>moved</u>. Therefore, Harry continued to call this friend 'Mom' all the time. It felt good. Though he <u>made</u> <u>it</u> <u>a</u> <u>point</u> to call this woman <u>Mom</u>; and <u>not</u> <u>Mum</u>! There was <u>only</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">one</b> <u>Mum</u>! It was a happy visit, overall. And yet a <u style="font-weight: bold;">constant</u> subtext of <u style="font-weight: bold;">stress</u>. It was <u>evident</u> in how much Harry was drinking. At one point, they took a boat, drifted up/down the river, and the <u>main</u> thing Harry remembers is <u style="font-style: italic;">Southern Comfort Sambuca</u>. One by day. The other by night. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry remembers waking in the moment of the morning with his face stuck in a pillow, his head feeling like it was fastened to his neck. He was having fun; sure, but also dealing with unsorted <u style="font-style: italic;">anger</u> and guilt about not being at war - not leading his troops. And Harry <u>wasn't</u> dealing well with it. No one around said <u>anything</u>. Maybe they saw nothing. Harry was doing a pretty good job of covering it up. From the outside, Harry's drinking <u>looked</u> like partying. And that is what he told himself. But, <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u>, on some level, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> something <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> change. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he couldn't go on like this. So, the moment Harry got back to London, he asked for a meeting with his Commanding Officer. And Harry was fascinated by him. His base ingredients were different than other men Harry had known. Harry's eyes were still, by contrast, were <span style="color: red;">bloodshot</span> from his <i><u>Okavango</u></i> debauchery, informing his Col. that he needed to find a way of getting back onto operation; or Harry threatened to <u style="font-weight: bold;">quit</u> the Army. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry wasn't sure his threat was <u>believed</u>. He wasn't certain <u style="font-style: italic;">if</u> he believed it. Still, there was no way to <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u> discount it. A prince in the ranks was a big PR asset; a <u>powerful</u> recruiting tool. It couldn't be ignored that if Harry <u>bolted</u>; the blame would fall to the Col. and a chain supply of blame. On the other hand, much of what he saw from the Col. that day was <u>genuinely</u> humanity. As a soldier, he understood and <u>truly</u> wanted to help. Due to Iraq being <u>off</u> <u>the</u> <u>table</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">permanently</u>. No 2 ways about it. But, maybe Afghanistan was an option/ After questioning, Harry's C.O. seen it was a <u>safer</u> option. Harry <u>disagreed</u> and found it <u style="font-weight: bold;">even</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dangerous</u> than the latter. <i>But, who was Harry to argue</i>? If the Col. deemed it <u>safer</u> and if they were willing to send him there. . . <u>Great</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div>The job Harry would have is an FAC. <u>F</u>orward <u>A</u>ir <u>C</u>ontroller. After explaining the position in detail, Harry was <u>salivating</u>. Only one problem: <u>everyone</u> wanted it. It was also a complex job; requiring <u style="font-weight: bold;">loads</u> of training. First thing first, Harry would have to go through a <u style="font-weight: bold;">challenging</u> certification process. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wait</u> to jump onboard.</div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HvCqd5ZhckUfk8t3jqAKksEZtq0fPvyV0D9qh3JUQD519CHxFeqvApbQOo8QGCoX4MAJKtLGKgNB-wm_p5EVgt1bDBCa7p8NuXsiFRgSO3fjmwyHfvhELW8-p5EeMmgB4l97My9pgxOJco8lkKLmS5peEH5fDUji17NgBFNTv-uUfap0KKpP_jSQgw/s1000/william-wordsworth-min.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HvCqd5ZhckUfk8t3jqAKksEZtq0fPvyV0D9qh3JUQD519CHxFeqvApbQOo8QGCoX4MAJKtLGKgNB-wm_p5EVgt1bDBCa7p8NuXsiFRgSO3fjmwyHfvhELW8-p5EeMmgB4l97My9pgxOJco8lkKLmS5peEH5fDUji17NgBFNTv-uUfap0KKpP_jSQgw/w320-h320/william-wordsworth-min.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>Wordsworth</u> was one of the great artists in British history. Harry managed to <u>avoid</u> reading his stuff in school, but now it piqued his interest. Seeming pretty good. <u>Breathtaking</u>. It felt like sacrilege to be standing on a cliff above the place and trying to obliterate it. Of course, it was pretend. Harry didn't <u>actually</u> blow up anything. Still, at the end of each day, Harry felt he had. It began with imagination. The dull each day was the <u>same</u>. Rise at dawn. Glass of <span style="color: #ffa400;">orange juice</span>, bowl of porridge, a full English, then head into the fields for work to begin. In selecting landmarks, Harry had been selected to start something big, move on to something small. Picturing the world as a hierarchy. <u>Hierarchy</u>? That, Harry could handle. Harry enjoyed the rhythms, the poetry, the meditative chant of it <u>all</u>. And Harry found <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeper</u> meanings in the exercise. He <b><u>understood</u></b> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">meaning</u> of it: <i style="font-weight: bold;">Getting the world to see it as you do and not repeat it back to you</i>. Harry would <u>want</u>. <u>Listening</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">intently</u> as the weeks flew by. </div><div><br /></div><div>Once Harry was a <u>trained</u> FAC, he had to be combat <u>ready</u>; which meant <u>mastering</u> 28 different combat "<i>controls</i>". Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">precision</u> of their dialogue and to respond <u>effectively</u>. Sadly, due to his position, work has to be done undercover. Otherwise, Harry would be back to where he started. So, Harry was moved to somewhere else more discreet. . .Someplace like <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham</u>; his grandmother's countryside. It was <u>empty</u> in the autumn. The <u>privacy</u> was <u style="font-style: italic;">thrilling</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">almost</u> <u>anonymous</u>. Harry was <u>delirious</u>. He tried not to say to Chelsea of his whereabouts in the evenings, but <u>that</u> kind of happiness. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">that's</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hide</u>. Chelsea <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> that Harry cared about her. <u>But</u>, she felt <u>unseen</u>. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> how <u style="font-weight: bold;">desperately</u> Harry was going to go to war. How could she <u>forgive</u> Harry's being detached? He was <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">completely</b> taken aback. He explained that this was what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to do. What he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to do <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">all</b> of his life. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to do it with <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u><b>/</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERY</u> bit of him. Anything left, Harry <u>apologized</u> for.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8oadrCPn8yGu7jgUPEWG2pHt-XJAGKAQKfwgqnCmIlL-A_OEPG0-OPsEo85gd8j2vJsFs5bffP2PyCt-_vYkPg_gfkZzrtLsQT2kgRsl9Qo_OTz065VKpfWgOng5pV_pY_OZEdoKEA6lGcDXVTYZ0Rqn2Io_UnbC5asWSH_z-h-pdhPR17fiauEPhA/s1024/18_diana_crash2_g_w.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1024" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8oadrCPn8yGu7jgUPEWG2pHt-XJAGKAQKfwgqnCmIlL-A_OEPG0-OPsEo85gd8j2vJsFs5bffP2PyCt-_vYkPg_gfkZzrtLsQT2kgRsl9Qo_OTz065VKpfWgOng5pV_pY_OZEdoKEA6lGcDXVTYZ0Rqn2Io_UnbC5asWSH_z-h-pdhPR17fiauEPhA/s320/18_diana_crash2_g_w.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pont de l'Alma tunnel</td></tr></tbody></table>On Harry's way to the semifinals of the <u style="font-style: italic;">2007 Rugby World Cup</u> in <u style="font-weight: bold;">Paris</u>; the <u style="font-style: italic;">Cup</u> had provided Harry with a driver. The driver had asked Harry, on his first night in Paris, if Harry had visited Harry's mother . . . . Harry had <u>watched</u> the driver's eyes in the rearview, growing <u style="font-weight: bold;">LARGE</u>. The driver had a <u>openly</u> "<i>What the fuck</i>?" look ache on his face. The tunnel was called <u style="font-style: italic;">Pont de l'Alama</u>. He <u>obviously</u> knew it. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to go through the tunnel <u>himself</u> at the <u>exact</u> <u>rate</u> <u>&</u> <u>speed</u> his mother had, according to police reports, at the time of the crash. The <u>original</u> time and speed of Harry's mother had gone without error. The driver looked over at the passenger seat. Billy The Rock nodded <u style="font-weight: bold;">gravely</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">Let's</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Do</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">It</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJSe3XU8Oa2AYZs3vH1opwP-x34akcHBjKi8MJGMKFhwY31jkv8r2-T7qeACjtNZqcfi8VKNibcfHdEwxfjXaZ92p-hI7bRTEQzIR5KodnWGgZnP0jmSCy-K8w85OCbHtjFQ6815uBNW7CyzfUFCuc2eD6FKblng54DXL1vF_jv-pnLfOpw89MgUr_Q/s240/240_240.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="240" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJSe3XU8Oa2AYZs3vH1opwP-x34akcHBjKi8MJGMKFhwY31jkv8r2-T7qeACjtNZqcfi8VKNibcfHdEwxfjXaZ92p-hI7bRTEQzIR5KodnWGgZnP0jmSCy-K8w85OCbHtjFQ6815uBNW7CyzfUFCuc2eD6FKblng54DXL1vF_jv-pnLfOpw89MgUr_Q/s1600/240_240.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>If it was found out from an outside source of their venture, there'd be hell to pay for the driver. Off they went with a solemn nod to one another. Weaving through the traffic, cruising past <u style="font-style: italic;">The Ritz</u>, where Harry's mother had her last meal, with Dodi Al-Fayed, that August night. Then, they came to the mouth of the tunnel. They zipped ahead, went over the lip of the tunnel's entrance, the bump that "<i>supposedly</i>" sent Diana's <u style="font-style: italic;">Mercedes</u> veering off course.</div><div><br /></div><div>But, the lip was nothing. <u>They</u> barely felt it. As the car <u>entered</u> the tunnel, they leaned forward, <u>watching</u> the light change to a watery orange, <u>watched</u> the concrete pillers flicker past. Harry counted them, counted his <u>own</u> heartbeats, and in a few seconds they emerge from the other side, Harry sat back. <u>Quietly</u>. It was <u>nothing</u> but a <u>straight</u> tunnel. Nothing more. Nothing less. Harry <u>thought</u> and <u>expected</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">No reason <u>anyone</u> should die from it</i>. Harry wanted to go around <u>again</u>.<i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i></div><div><i style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></div><div><span>They ventured through <u>again</u>. It was a <u>very</u> <u>bad</u> idea. Harry had <u>plenty</u> of them in his youth. He <u>told</u> <u>himself</u> that he wanted closure, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> didn't. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u>, Harry hoped to feel in that tunnel what he felt when given the police files - <u>Disbelief</u>. <u>Doubt</u>. Instead, that was the night all doubt fell away. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIT</u> Harry. His mother <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> was <u>gone</u>. Harry had gotten the <u>closure</u> he <u>pretended</u> to seek. He got it in spades. And <u>now</u>, he'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> be able to get rid of it. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> driving through the tunnel would bring an <u style="font-weight: bold;">end</u>; or <u>brief</u> cessation, to the pain, the <u>decade</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">unrelenting</u> <u>pain</u>. Instead, it was on <u>Pain</u>: Part II.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>It was close to 1AM. The driver dropped Harry and his friend at the bar, where Harry <b><u>obliterately</u> <u>DRANK</u>!</b> Some mates were there, and Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">drank</u> with them, and tried to pick fights with <u>several</u>. When the bar threw them out, when Harry was escorted back to his hotel, he <u>tried</u> to pick a fight with him as well. Harry growled at his friend, swing on him and slapped his friend <u>in</u> <u>the</u> <u>head</u>. Harry's friend had <u>no</u> <u>reaction</u>, He just frowned like an ultra-patient parent. Harry slapped his friend <u>again</u>. He <u>loved</u> him; Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">hurt</u> him. Harry's friend had seen him in this behavior before. Recounting Harry to be a <u>handful</u>. Somehow this friend and a bodyguard got Harry up to his room and poured him into his bed. But, after they left, Harry was <u>UP</u> again. He looked around the room. The sun was just coming up. Harry stepped out into the hall. There was a bodyguard in a chair beside the door, but he was <u>sound</u> asleep. Harry <u>tiptoed</u> his way out of the hotel and left.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7XQMheiSppglZJNQx34yKqFgAHstaVnsr9qoRvlxkUDgXnYG7-IJBvj09We1fe3BuH7Pbnfk2geXxGpqW2fYR7OTwqM8sEWX2q2ZSKo_UdG-QbQy33xC5nQQpExfA-cxb5dsfn2FEgbtcKSPa4fHbaBoXmQBAD3VclPqU30uZaLWvp2UQpoeLre8aw/s1298/prince-william-and-prince-harry-at-sandringham-at-christmas-with-a-B6T0FF.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1298" data-original-width="939" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji7XQMheiSppglZJNQx34yKqFgAHstaVnsr9qoRvlxkUDgXnYG7-IJBvj09We1fe3BuH7Pbnfk2geXxGpqW2fYR7OTwqM8sEWX2q2ZSKo_UdG-QbQy33xC5nQQpExfA-cxb5dsfn2FEgbtcKSPa4fHbaBoXmQBAD3VclPqU30uZaLWvp2UQpoeLre8aw/s320/prince-william-and-prince-harry-at-sandringham-at-christmas-with-a-B6T0FF.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>Of <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> the rules in Harry's life, this was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">volatile</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> leave your bodyguards. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> wander by <u>yourself</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">especially</u> in a foreign city. Harry walked along the <u style="font-style: italic;">Seine</u>. He seen the <u style="font-style: italic;">Champs-Elysees</u> in the distance. He <u>strolled</u> along the city, passing coffee drinkers and eating croissants. Harry was smoking, keeping his gaze <u>unfocused</u>. (<i>This was prior to SmartPhones</i>) Later, after sleeping it off, Harry called William and told him of his night. <u>None</u> of what Harry lived through that day/night surprised William. William had done the <u>same</u> with driving through the tunnel. They <u>both</u> decided to head to Paris <u>together</u>. Afterwards, the boys <u>talked</u> about their mother's accidental crash. <u style="font-weight: bold;">For</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">first</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u>. They talked about the recent inquest. It raised more questions than answered them. <u style="font-weight: bold;">After</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">these</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u>. Above all, the summary concluded that Diana's driver was <u>drunk</u> and thereby the <u style="font-weight: bold;">sole</u> cause of the crash; was convenient and <u style="font-weight: bold;">absurd</u>. Even if the man had been <u>shit-faced</u> drinking, he wouldnt've had <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> trouble navigating the <u>short</u> tunnel. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Unless</u>, paps chased and blinded them. The boys were <u>united</u> on <u>ALL</u> points, and also on the next steps. They'd issue a joint statement. Maybe a press conference. They were <u>talked</u> <u>out</u> <u>of</u> <u>it</u> by the powers that be.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>One month later, Harry went to <u style="font-style: italic;">RAF Brize Norton</u> and boarded a C-17. He was the <u>only</u> stowaway on the plane. With the help from the Colonel and <u style="font-style: italic;">JLP</u>, Harry boarded in <u>secret</u>, then crept into an alcove behind the cockpit. Somewhere below, in the cargo below, held Harry's <u style="font-style: italic;">Bergen</u>, <u>neatly</u> packed with 3 pairs of camo pants, 3 clean T-Shirts, 1 pair of goggles,1 airbed, 1 small notebook, 1 tube of sunscreen. It felt like <u>more</u> than enough. Harry could <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONESTLY</u> say that <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> he needed/wanted in life had been left behind, other than a few pieces of his mother's jewelry, and the lack of her hair in the little blue box, a photo of his mother that sat on his desk at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>; all of which had stashed in a <u>safe</u> place. And, of course, Harry's weapons. Harry missed them, feeling their absence <u>most</u> acutely, since for the <u>first</u> time in Harry's life, other than the wobbling morning stroll in Paris, Harry was about to venture <u>forth</u> into a wide world <u>without</u> armed bodyguards. The flight took <u>so</u> <u>long</u> Harry lost count of the <u>HOURS</u>! <u>Felt</u> like a week. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>When your stomach is empty and your mind is <u>full</u>, it's always hard to sleep. Harry spent most of his night <u>staring</u> at the upper bunk. At his feet. <u>Listened</u> to his surroundings. Harry replayed his life. He thought about his family. And Chelsea. The papers <u>reported</u> they'd broken up. The distance, the differences in life goals were <u>too</u> <u>much</u>. It was hard enough maintaining a relationship in the <u>same</u> country, but Harry was going off to war. It just didn't seem feasible. Of course, it <u>wasn't</u> true. They had <u>not</u> broken up. Chelsea had given Harry a touching, tender farewell, and <u>promised</u> to wait for him. She knew <u>better</u> than to listen to the press.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Harry <u>thought</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> on that flight about dying. What did it mean? Did he care? Harry tried to picture his funeral. Would it be a <u>safe</u> one? Private? Harry tried to imagine the headlines. How would Harry be remembered throughout History? For the headlines? Or for the title? Would William walk behind Harry's coffin? Any other family for that matter?</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Before slipping out, <i><u>JLP</u></i> had told Harry he needed to update his will. If <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> happened, the Palace needed to know what Harry wanted done with his few belongings, and where Harry wished to be . . . .buried. Asking so <u>calmly</u> and as if they're going out to lunch. But, that was his gift. The <u>truth</u> is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. No sense in leaning from it. Harry looked away. Looking around unsure of where he wanted to spend the hereafter. He couldn't think of any location that seemed <u>sacred</u>, beside <u style="font-style: italic;">Althorp</u>, maybe, and that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">question</u>. So, Harry suggested <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore Gardens</u>. It was beautiful, quiet & secluded. <u>Peaceful</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">JLP</u> would see to it. Amid these thoughts and recollections, Harry managed to <u>doze</u> <u>off</u> for a few minutes, and when he <u>awoke</u>, they swooped down to <u style="font-style: italic;">Kandahar Airfield</u>. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWuF3IISFZiU2M7Tt2i0jT9Av5RY8Bkd0yPq6OR4g2DCNS43ZZHC9arzElLdW8moxu3ubLfPOsm8SxhMyAkvvNmZAGbKn-IKW5WZz-jtP2xDm8-14yZ1vzdXFq9ih6AKZsUh7EeVb6YuTyjbdCBN3bjTfRfrY7-W30fq5Pf4vZ7v1BslBRRtjBMaYTg/s250/Camp_Dwyer_LZ_sign_(Afghanistan)_01.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="250" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWuF3IISFZiU2M7Tt2i0jT9Av5RY8Bkd0yPq6OR4g2DCNS43ZZHC9arzElLdW8moxu3ubLfPOsm8SxhMyAkvvNmZAGbKn-IKW5WZz-jtP2xDm8-14yZ1vzdXFq9ih6AKZsUh7EeVb6YuTyjbdCBN3bjTfRfrY7-W30fq5Pf4vZ7v1BslBRRtjBMaYTg/s1600/Camp_Dwyer_LZ_sign_(Afghanistan)_01.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>When everyone else was in the air and out on a mission, Harry looked around <u>noticing</u> everyone left in the middle of a meal. Tables were covered with half-empty pizza boxes. Harry tried to remember what he'd eaten on the flight. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</u>. Harry began shoving cold pizza faster than he could chew. He took his in-theater test, <u>one</u> <u>last</u> <u>measure</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> that he knew how to do the job. Shortly after, Harry climbed into a Chinate and flew 50 miles to a <u>much</u> <u>smaller</u> outpost. <u style="font-style: italic;">Forward Operating Base Dwyer</u>. Harry was met by a sand-covered soldier who was ordered to show Harry around. The tour showed the atmosphere had <u>no</u> heat, few lights & not much water. There was plumbing - sort of. But, the pipes were clogged or frozen. There was also a building that purported to be a "<i>shower block</i>", but Harry was advised to use it at his "<i>own peril</i>". Basically, Harry was told to give up being clean. <u>Focus</u> on staying warm due to a <u style="color: #6fa8dc;">cold</u> climate.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>They told themselves they were scanning for the enemy, and in a sense they were. But, you couldn't be in that environment without thinking about <u>eternity</u>. Ashes-to-ashes. Sand-to-sand. Even when Harry returned settled into his cot, drifted off to sleep, sand was <u style="font-weight: bold;">mostly</u> in his mind. When he woke up, there was a spoonful of it in his mouth. Just as some of them were eager to draw the Taliban's attention, Harry was <u>eager</u> <u>not</u> to draw the attention of his fellow mates. His <u>main</u> <u>goal</u> was to blend in. The noise of "<i>the cannons</i>"; 2 <u style="font-weight: bold;">enormous</u> 105-mm guns nearly every day, several times/day. The noise made your <span style="color: red;">blood</span> <b>stop</b>, fried your brain. For the <u>rest</u> of Harry's life, he knew he'd be hearing the vestige of that sound; it would echo <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> in some form of his being. He would also <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> forget, when the guns <u>finally</u> stopped, that <b><u>immense</u> </b><u>silence</u>. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0p59Dxety9GZz6uW9S4ZNOFvX2O1Nx2aJcqlQKabarPshQPfqVBqfqa5wNtdhLC-DSV2uW7fTk7zRYXqq5JW6h-JVj2Cy3jY7AteWdUW6ixcK9V_MHObCNYkXD-GaYW2qKb8mN2SzrcPvzLwRA2pkVLTWa0bg8IpipjRMR-CwYgZk7S7THXUzn8FgQ/s649/Prince%20Harry%20wearing%20green%20beret%20200219%20CREDIT%20MOD_1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="649" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0p59Dxety9GZz6uW9S4ZNOFvX2O1Nx2aJcqlQKabarPshQPfqVBqfqa5wNtdhLC-DSV2uW7fTk7zRYXqq5JW6h-JVj2Cy3jY7AteWdUW6ixcK9V_MHObCNYkXD-GaYW2qKb8mN2SzrcPvzLwRA2pkVLTWa0bg8IpipjRMR-CwYgZk7S7THXUzn8FgQ/s320/Prince%20Harry%20wearing%20green%20beret%20200219%20CREDIT%20MOD_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Harry was greeted by Corporal Of House Baxter. Other than Harry; but they shared the same coloring. They exchanged a few wisecracks and smiles about the involuntary membership in the <u style="font-style: italic;">League Of Redheaded Gentleman</u>. Also <u style="font-style: italic;">the Balding Brotherhood</u>. Harry gave him a hard time about being Irish, and Dwyer returned the favor, laughing; but looking <u>insured</u>. Then, they got down to work. Taking Harry under his wing. In no time, Harry would be <u>no</u> <u>different</u> than those in the same rank. He'd be a security guard. The only fighting Harry would be doing would be against the urge to sleep. Harry cleared his throat, sat down and <u>watched</u>. After a few minutes, Harry raise the volume of the radio up/down. <i>Welcome to the war</i>.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Everything in the Army needed an alternative name. His personal call was <u style="font-style: italic;">Widow Six Seven</u>. Harry had <u>plenty</u> of nicknames in his life, but this was the <u>first</u>, nickname that felt like an alias. He could <u>truly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">hide</u> behind it. After grabbing a headset, the voices coming from the headset, <u>all</u> <u>perked</u> <u>up</u>, turned their attention to Harry. They were like baby birds who were <u>demanding</u> to be fed. Their food was information. Aside from information, what they wanted <u>most</u> often was permission. Harry liked being the keeper of ROZ (<i><u>R</u>estricting <u>O</u>perating <u>Z</u>one</i>). Harry liked the idea of working closely with top guns, being their eyes for Earth. Their need for Harry, their dependency, created <u>instant</u> bonds. Weird conversations/intimacies took shape. They bonded <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>. Comrades. You could feel it.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><u>Every</u> <u>second</u> <u>mattered</u>. Life and death were in Harry's hands. What Harry trained for was exhilarating; but <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrifying</u>. 3 Soldiers killed with 2 <u style="font-weight: bold;">horribly</u> maimed. So every word or digit Harry spoke would have consequences. They were "<i>providing support</i>" that was the phrase <u style="font-weight: bold;">constantly</u>, but it was more euphemistic. They were sometimes delivering death, <u>more</u> <u>so</u> than life, you <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> be <u style="font-weight: bold;">precise</u>. Harry confessed. He was happy. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> work, patriotic work. Harry was using skills honed in different locations leading up to boyhood. Even to <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u>. Harry was a British soldier on a battlefield, <u>at</u> <u>last</u>, a role for which Harry prepared for <u>all</u> <u>his</u> <u>life</u>.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Harry was also <u style="font-style: italic;">Widow Six Seven</u>. He had <u>plenty</u> of nicknames in his life, but this was the first nickname that felt more like an alias, Harry could really and <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <i>hide</i> behind it. <u>For</u> <u>the</u> <u>first</u> <u>time</u>, Harry was <u>just</u> a random name/number. No title. No bodyguard. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">savored</u> the normalcy, wallowed on it, and also considered <u>how</u> <u>far</u> Harry'd journey to find it. <u>Central</u> <u>Afghanistan</u>, the dead of <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">winter</span>, the middle of the night, the midst of a war, while speaking to a man 15,000 ft above his head. How abnormal is your life for <u>this</u> to feel <u>normal</u>? After every action they would be a lull, which was sometimes <u style="font-weight: bold;">harder</u> to <u>deal</u> <u>with</u> psychologically. Boredom was the enemy and they fought it by playing rugby, 1,000 push-ups, and building primitive weightlifting equipment; taping wooden crates to metal bars. Using their duffels as punching bags. They read books, organized chess matches and <u style="font-weight: bold;">slept</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>like it <u style="font-weight: bold;">mattered</u>.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>They also ate-and-ate. Dwyer had a full kitchen. Pasta. Chips. Beans. 30 minute phone time; kind of a phone card. Next thing you know. . . Your old life is down the line. To think of home was <u>never</u> easy, for a complex of reasons. To <u style="font-style: italic;">hear</u> about home was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> easy. It was a stab in the chest. If Harry didn't call Chelsea, he would call Charles. But, Charles much preferred letters.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>At times, Harry worried that he was <u>actually</u> missing out on the <u style="font-weight: bold;">real </u> war. Harry <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> war was closer than he thought. They were put through an initiation test. Harry watched dogs the size of wolves chew apart recruits in the battlefield. Harry began pleading with his C.O.'s: Get Him Out Of There. A few guys made the same plea, but for different reasons. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">begging</u> to be put on the frontlines. Finally, on Christmas Eve 2007, Harry's request was <u>approved</u>. He was able to replace an outgoer, which was inside an abandoned Garmir school. It was part of the British Commonwealth. And Harry's new home. </span>No one would have allowed Harry to go anywhere <u>solo</u>. Royal persons <u>required</u> a royal escort. Often, Harry could head <u>anywhere</u>,and suddenly become <u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> of a shadow to his right. Then another to his left. It was embarrassing; yet touching. Harry adored them, so did others around. even bantering with them about recipes. When the escorts weren't doing <u>that</u>, they intended on fattening Harry up with food being their way of showing love. While they considered themselves 5-star chefs, they were skilled in one dish - Goat curry. When it came to the slaughtering of the goat; Harry wasn't sure why he said no. Maybe it was due to the killing surrounding him <u>without</u> adding more. Harry had to <u>draw</u> <u>a</u> <u>line</u>. At suffering is where Harry drew it. Passing the baton honors to someone else. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry's job in Delhi was the same as those in Dwyer. Only different hours. <u>Constant</u>. At Delhi, Harry was 24hrs on-call. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">work</u> later, Harry was <i>somewhat</i> promoted. To a small lookout high above the battlefield. Hours after Harry's arrival, trouble arose and all was mayhem. What Harry doesn't remember, there was video. The press was there, by Harry's side, filming. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">hated</u> them being there; but he'd been <u>ordered</u> to take them on an outing. In return, they <u>agreed</u> to sit in on <u>any</u> interviews or information they gathered until Harry was <u>out</u> of the country. After boarding a Chinook full of mailbags, Harry lay down to hide. 40 minutes later, Harry hopped off into <u>knee</u>-<u>deep</u> mud. Harry was shown to his quarters in a sandbag house. A tiny bed. And a roommate. An Estonian signals officer. They hit it off. Giving Harry one of his badges as a welcoming gift. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was then that Harry was put on patrol. The road took them down through a wadi, in which they came upon a IED. The <u>first</u> one Harry encountered. It was Harry's job to call in the bomb experts. In the distance were poppy fields. Harry looked off, thought of the famous poem: <u style="font-style: italic;">In Flanders</u>. In Britain, the poppy of the poem was a sign of remembrance, but it was the coin of the realm. All of the poppies would soon be processed into heroin; sales of which would pay for the bullets fired at them. Harry was then joined by 3 journalists. He was <u>ordered</u> to take them into the battlefield; give them a tour - with a <u>explicit</u> understanding that the news embargo was still in effect. Harry was in a <u style="font-style: italic;">Spartan</u> up front of the convoy, the journalists showed inside. They kept nagging Harry. Wanting to get out to take photos and get some film. But, it <u>wasn't</u> <u>safe</u> due to mines in the surrounding areas. Harry <b><u>didn't</u></b> <u><b>want</b></u> the press there in the first place, but he especially didn't want <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> happening to them on his watch. He didn't want <u>any</u> journalists life on his hands. Harry couldn't've handled the irony.</div><div><br /></div><div>In February 2008, their tanks were in a harbor and Harry, along with his comrads, were eating dinner out of bags, talking in low voices. After the meal, around midnight, Harry went on radio stag. He had the desk pulled down and was taking notes off the radio. Harry's <u>only</u> light was a dim bulb overhead in a wire cage. While jotting down a few notes, but stopped writing and looked up at the stars when Harry heard voices. The voices were saying that this <u style="font-style: italic;">Red Fox</u> code was in trouble, no doubt about it. Harry made out that this <u style="font-style: italic;">Red Fox</u> was a person. Judging from the tone of their voices, <u style="font-style: italic;">Red Fox</u> was about to be murdered. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">intently</u> listening, it was being said that <u style="font-style: italic;">Red Fox</u>'s cover was blown, being exposed to the enemy and needed to be extracted <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>. <u>Fuck</u>. <u>Fuck</u>. <b><u>Fuck</u>!</b> Harry's mind went back to being high at <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. The next day they were on patrol and Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u> paranoia, worried he'd be recognized. Harry wore a <i>shemash</i> tightly over his face, with blackout eye goggles, which kept his head on a swivel and his finger tightly on the trigger of this machine gun. </div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>After dusk, Special Forces collected Harry and flew him across the valley, back to Edinburgh. Harry had gotten with his Col. Ed. After filling Harry in on what happened, an Australian magazine had <u>outed</u> Harry of his location. The magazine was inconsequencial, but an American picked up on the story, posted it online and everyone else cowered to it. Now, the news was <u>everywhere</u>. Harry was now essentially <u>outed</u>. Col. Ed apologized. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> this wasn't meant to happen. On the other hand, Col. Ed <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> Harry to know how much his superiors had been <u>pressing</u> the Col. to pull him. So, Harry was lucky the tour <u>wasn't</u> shorter. Harry managed to put together a respectfully long stint with a sterile record. <i><u>Bravo</u></i>.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Harry was on the verge of begging to stay; but he could see there was <u>no</u> <u>chance</u>. Harry's presence put everyone else in peril. Harry shook Col's hand, and left the tent. He grabbed his belongings and said a few quick goodbyes, then jumped back on the Chinook, which was still churning and burning. Within an hour, Harry was back in Kandahar. Harry showered, shaved, got ready to catch a plane bound for England. Other soldiers were mulling about going home. This time was different. <u>Happy</u> to go home. Until the arrival of a Danish soldier's coffin was being pulled/loaded into the cargo hold. They <u>all</u> fell <u>silent</u>. When they got on the plane, Harry could see 3 guys in hospital beds. Harry unbuckled his seatbelt, walked up the aisle and discovered 3 <u style="font-weight: bold;">gravely</u> injured soldiers. Harry spoke with the doctor in charge of their care. Harry felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">angry</u> with himself for having been so self-absorbed. He spent the rest of that flight about those who <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> made it home. He thought about how the media <u>portrayed</u> what Harry was living through.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbON2xe_GFuOr7SdO-AkACiiSj5UpqYtXVMzOCoT0FnkUQVvoP_m2BBONN2xexuRssObhu-PfVT9LzAFiz01bS0ki52It6yGMzvG-mNk6VEGaNqtHD5xCSaLWmrWdEX2dlgY3gA-FuYj7pFMgI9MRwL3yqs37R2dimkFJWKX3kofQL7_8-GhMkQNGq0A/s1280/28859616.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbON2xe_GFuOr7SdO-AkACiiSj5UpqYtXVMzOCoT0FnkUQVvoP_m2BBONN2xexuRssObhu-PfVT9LzAFiz01bS0ki52It6yGMzvG-mNk6VEGaNqtHD5xCSaLWmrWdEX2dlgY3gA-FuYj7pFMgI9MRwL3yqs37R2dimkFJWKX3kofQL7_8-GhMkQNGq0A/s320/28859616.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cat & Custard Pot</td></tr></tbody></table>Harry landed on March 1, 2008. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">obligatory</u> press conference stood between him and a proper meal. Harry held his breath and went for it. Afterward, Harry walked out of the room and straight into his dad & brother. They <u>stared</u> at Harry, wide-eyed. Harry looked exhausted. Haunted. Along the way home, they spoke as if they were in a library. Harry looked out the window watching the atmosphere fly by. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Taking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u>. Harry was given a month off from duty. He spent the first part of it with friends. They heard rumors he was home and called for a drink. Harry went to a place called <u style="font-style: italic;">The Cat and Custard Pot</u>. Harry sat in a dark corner, nursing a G&T (<i>gin & tonic</i>). Those in Harry's company were laughing and chatting. Making all sorts of plans for trips and <u>more</u>. Everyone was <b><u>LOUD</u>!</b> Harry just felt like being <u>quiet</u>. He felt distantly out of place. At times <u style="font-style: italic;">panicky</u>. Other times Harry felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">angry</u>.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>After a day-or-2, Harry rang Chelsea and her family. She was in Cape Cod and invited him. A day-or-2 later, they drafted upriver on a rented houseboat; <u style="font-style: italic;">The Kirby Queen</u>. They cooked simple meals, slept on the upper deck of the boat under the stars. Harry <u>tried</u> to decompress, but it was hard. The press had gotten wind of their plans and awaited them. After heading back from Maun, at a farewell dinner, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> how badly he wanted to be a husband and father. . . .but, Harry himself wasn't so sure. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>The press <u>obviously</u> reported inaccuracies in Harry's relationship with Chelsea. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> once regretted his decision to skip college. But, the press had gotten <u>worse</u>. They were now peddling fantasies, phantasms, while physically stalking and harassing him; <u>along</u> with those in Harry's circle. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">sincerely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">apologetic</u>. She was freaking out. Come to find out, the press had installed a tracking device underneath the car. It was happening to others surrounding Harry and his social circle. What could Harry say? He <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> understood her side. If Harry had a choice, he <u>wouldn't</u> want this life either. But, he would surely miss her. Whenever Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to keep a low profile in disguise, Harry was <u>always</u> found out. They didn't get their photo their night - a small victory. What goes up must come down. Harry seen their relationship was tainted, <u>irredeemably</u>, and in time they agreed it <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> worth the grief and harassment. At <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> turn, life was determined to drag Harry back into a classroom. But, Harry soon spent that summer of 2008 not thinking about it. Toward the end of that summer, Harry's ventures landed him in Botswana.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnREwkQ7NjEZ0tYzf82SXwxYTmAGWFxb0wWc4N0wKPIdMNCRTXGlsJvqwCvgDs2z2tS5Ho7_J6F78g2t3vt1FpWIZecuIIyTNmDgLnzU44Dk4eGhVP8OvaSAVzzyqEW0cP7m3ie3uswYJXVzcCx0vZM0b296QcCLIiQrUGA6x7--811_IA4cVWX6UCvBJ/s590/Prince-Harry-The-duke-reportedly-wanted-to-speak-to-the-BBC-but-was-unable-to-1525779.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnREwkQ7NjEZ0tYzf82SXwxYTmAGWFxb0wWc4N0wKPIdMNCRTXGlsJvqwCvgDs2z2tS5Ho7_J6F78g2t3vt1FpWIZecuIIyTNmDgLnzU44Dk4eGhVP8OvaSAVzzyqEW0cP7m3ie3uswYJXVzcCx0vZM0b296QcCLIiQrUGA6x7--811_IA4cVWX6UCvBJ/s320/Prince-Harry-The-duke-reportedly-wanted-to-speak-to-the-BBC-but-was-unable-to-1525779.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Right at the turn of the new year, 2009, a self-shot video was to kill time prior to their flight, messing around. Harry panned the group he was shouting and <u style="font-weight: bold;">uneducatedly</u> spoke of a racial slur. Growing up, Harry heard <u>many</u> people use this vocabulary and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> seen anyone flinch or cringe. . . <b><u>Never</u> <u>once</u></b> suspected <u>any</u> hint of racism. Harry was 21, awash in isolation and privilege. Harry thought it was <u>harmless</u>. He sent the footage to a fellow cadet, who was making an end-of-the-year video. From a video sent through worldwide news circulation. Heated condemnations began ruling with others thinking Harry learned <u>nothing</u>. They thought Harry hadn't matured one bit after the Nazi debacle. Pointing Harry to be a racist. From denouncing him publicly to condemning him to the <u style="font-style: italic;">BBC</u>. Harry was sitting in <u style="font-style: italic;">Highgrove</u> barely able to process Charles' office issuing an apology on his behalf. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to issue one <u>himself</u> but royal staff advised against it. Harry <u>didn't</u> <u>care</u> about protocol. He <u>cared</u> about people thinking the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> of him being a racist. Those he hurt and reactions made Harry feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u>. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFitONLSdhnE6bnZzevQFfrAxZ_3S97EXH-ZbX_mXtG6qXp6nw8yN0AfUSStaRZQxcZUPEvo8ysZPTWpK3bO40vCJvPTwLUrLjgbHCHe7oWMd74zorArfdRcmcFrnQqnYNmBIL2tjrK0v2t4BYNgF33ArPa_4m-UkgsrHU4tgzPMeV0bUctThQktzfQDzt/s211/raf_bomber_command.gif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="211" data-original-width="150" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFitONLSdhnE6bnZzevQFfrAxZ_3S97EXH-ZbX_mXtG6qXp6nw8yN0AfUSStaRZQxcZUPEvo8ysZPTWpK3bO40vCJvPTwLUrLjgbHCHe7oWMd74zorArfdRcmcFrnQqnYNmBIL2tjrK0v2t4BYNgF33ArPa_4m-UkgsrHU4tgzPMeV0bUctThQktzfQDzt/s1600/raf_bomber_command.gif" width="150" /></a></div>As the controversy continued to spread, Harry shipped off to <u style="font-style: italic;">RAF Barkston Health</u>. He wanted to <u>hide</u> from humanity, flee the planet and this came into play. Before any flight, the Army needed to make sure Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u>. For several weeks, they poked his body and probed his mind. Drug-free. Harry's first aircraft would be an aircraft. With <u>so</u> <u>much</u> on Harry's mind, he went into lessons <u style="font-weight: bold;">distracted</u>, and it <u>showed</u>. Harry had to learn to get go and <u>clear</u> his mind. It worked. Like a charm. Reminding Harry <u>why</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> this to begin with: Speed. Power. Freedom. Only to find out, they were caught by the press. The next came with surprises in training that Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> prepare/acclimate himself to. Soon came time to remove the training wheels and fly <u>solo</u> up he went. Harry may not have been a pilot; but he was on his way. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>During this time, Harry was living in <u style="font-style: italic;">Shroshire</u>m with William, who was training to become a pilot. William found a cottage 10 minutes from the base, on someone's estate, and invited Harry to stay with him. Or maybe the other way around. They all enjoyed the arrangement. Their <u>first</u> time living together since <u style="font-style: italic;">Eaton</u>. It was fun. It was the <u>decisive</u> moment when the unraveling of Murdoch's media empire. Exposure of those abound and punishment soon to follow. Soon enough they would <u>all</u> lose their jobs, and their ill-forgotten fortunes. Justice among the masses. Harry & William were both overjoyed. It was glorious to have vindication among the paranoia. They felt betrayed by those they <u style="font-weight: bold;">trusted</u> to do their jobs. The public was <u style="font-style: italic;">horrified</u> and <u>no</u> <u>one</u> was <u>safe</u>. While the outside world went strange, the boys <u>bonded</u> over the brotherly talk/discussions. While sharing a cottage, they agreed to a joint interview, during which William griped <u>endlessly</u> about his brother's habits. Harry's a slob and William snores. Total opposites of what was stated. Harry laughed, but looking back at it, he couldn't help but think there was something else at play.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Harry was training for the frontlines, the <u>same</u> place William trained to get, but the Palace scuttled his plans. Throw William to the frontlines, but save the <u style="font-style: italic;">Spare</u>. William was training to be a search-and-rescue pilot, but was looking at the objective the <u>opposite</u> way. William was doing exceptional, remarkable work. Still, Harry showed Pride to his brother. He knew <u>all</u> <u>too</u> <u>well</u> the despair of being pulled from a fight for which you spent years prepping for. With his job and duties, Harry learned to be alone, to think alone and function alone. Harry learned to perform one set of skills with his hands, while learning another with his feet. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Harry was turning 25, but it felt more like just another birthday. He was warned that <u>this</u> age was one where many young others come to a fork in the personal road. Harry was ready to move forward. He decided to have a birthday celebration with a trip to Botswana. Everyone <u>noticed</u> how different Harry seemed - again. He seemed older, <u style="font-weight: bold;">harder</u> after his first combat tour. But now, Harry seemed more. . . .<u>grounded</u>.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Harry accomplished achieving his wings as Army Corps. Colonel-In-Chief; pinned to his chest in May 2010. Harry & Charles shared a moment <u>bonding</u>. Camilla was there, his aunts, Diana's sisters, along with Chelsea; whom Harry had requited love with. They were up one minute and over the next with old problems resurfacing. Also, Chelsea wanted to travel and be young. Harry was given his wings and figured Chelsea had been given hers. They went to Botswana one last time. One last trip upriver. One last visit with his friends. They had a great time; counting and <u>appreciating</u> their time together. Harry vocally spoke of ways for this arrangement to work out. They <u>both</u> knew they were avoiding the <u>inevitable</u>. Driving themselves crazy in the process.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYbVJ3iiE0iqmK9pfDWuvJxD-J2ZAd0DT9_pgH-TdwsHxOsiNBwQ1xp-6zOF0J0jDIGw1x9JZfDydqW_lwMYtihZJFAMRDyLr-Jexuf2kCJ9H0UNoLbm4Ck_WgYsrUfCz2-SHJzCWibHekrV8-HP6pH4y9Tse6B4hudtqwIwrEgoTk4ZjuL5gcIoeOs9y/s976/_92816311_prince_harry.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYbVJ3iiE0iqmK9pfDWuvJxD-J2ZAd0DT9_pgH-TdwsHxOsiNBwQ1xp-6zOF0J0jDIGw1x9JZfDydqW_lwMYtihZJFAMRDyLr-Jexuf2kCJ9H0UNoLbm4Ck_WgYsrUfCz2-SHJzCWibHekrV8-HP6pH4y9Tse6B4hudtqwIwrEgoTk4ZjuL5gcIoeOs9y/s320/_92816311_prince_harry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Looking each other <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">eyes</u>, they urged this breakup to be <u>final</u>. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> himself to put the relationship out of mind. Staying busy from one location to another. To that end, Harry went to Lesotho with William working with adult HIV <u>positive</u> patients. After 2-or-3 days, they set off towards more remote schools. Off the grid. Way off. Upon arriving, they went straight to the school for boys as <u>young</u> as 8. <u>Listening</u> to these kids with such an eagerness to learn. Their stories made Harry feel ashamed/shitty to think of his bitching about school/<u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. The joy in these boys' <u>irrepressible</u>. They lit up their day and enriched their lives. For <u>both</u> of them. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ay17JVkM_x7FGp2tI_8GX-5Y5sr29VmQn7oqFy2aQwHfOc3B-78D29xRqhC-WCE3y_R7wsa-KoHoqIQXnSxasNcmVXuq6NGdmf9r_JlMfb5Nb4RrWTcYOc-82Mupna3mVFuMjjEnvzEnjz48mU9HgG09ngeFY2WM-sem0zn48-i7nFmL6vdiN6K9fZfz/s500/Princess-diana-ring.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ay17JVkM_x7FGp2tI_8GX-5Y5sr29VmQn7oqFy2aQwHfOc3B-78D29xRqhC-WCE3y_R7wsa-KoHoqIQXnSxasNcmVXuq6NGdmf9r_JlMfb5Nb4RrWTcYOc-82Mupna3mVFuMjjEnvzEnjz48mU9HgG09ngeFY2WM-sem0zn48-i7nFmL6vdiN6K9fZfz/s320/Princess-diana-ring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When Harry returned to Britain, <u style="font-style: italic;">the Palace</u> announced William's plan to marry in November 2010. News to Harry. All of the brotherly bonding time and <u>not</u> <u>one</u> <u>word</u>. Harry saw the papers that had published florid moments that were <u>precious</u> family memories. Harry was <u>there</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">appreciated</u> the depth of his brother's love for Kate and thus decided to <u>gift</u> William the ring Harry inherited from their mother. He never gave William the ring because it <u>wasn't</u> his to give. William already had it. He asked for it after their mom passed, and Harry was more than happy to let it go. As William focused on wedding prep, Harry wished him well. He thought long & hard about his singlehood. Harry always presumed that he would be a young husband, a young father, because Harry resolved not to follow Charles' footsteps in way of age and routine. Harry promised himself to be the <u>complete</u> <u>opposite</u> of the example Charles set. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdLKj1Exuwq6EL8XGie3O3Q0f3KnpCOvwd7vvtLD7n_kYArA2mbdj-WWDsSWKYn5vkFfotQaicbv1JR8AIiRvlZGua6gaRQa0x3JxKK9hW60Y04RiehhZCpeCDT0aY8NYawfODDsXoVMBD2e3cB1yuLdDH7iR2ISXZVzv2osLfW60ToOVfQO3FMgO68bJ/s579/BaoPDDohmkyJl7bQ3mBGMxG7zzyBSqFill.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="579" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdLKj1Exuwq6EL8XGie3O3Q0f3KnpCOvwd7vvtLD7n_kYArA2mbdj-WWDsSWKYn5vkFfotQaicbv1JR8AIiRvlZGua6gaRQa0x3JxKK9hW60Y04RiehhZCpeCDT0aY8NYawfODDsXoVMBD2e3cB1yuLdDH7iR2ISXZVzv2osLfW60ToOVfQO3FMgO68bJ/s320/BaoPDDohmkyJl7bQ3mBGMxG7zzyBSqFill.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Charles was older as a parent with created problems, and placed barriers between them. Charles had routines. Due to the royal schedule, Charles found his own way and schedule to play and bond with the boys. Long after the boys <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> their father's attention, Charles <u>stopped</u> engaging in physical fun. He just didn't have the enthusiasm. When the time came, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">promised</u> he would. Thinking in his own words: the promise of becoming a young father. Was it the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> Harry making the <u>first</u> <u>MAN</u> promise to himself. What if this promise <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> happened? What would've been Harry's <u style="font-weight: bold;">purpose</u>? If <u>all</u> <u>else</u> fails, Harry could <u>remain</u> a soldier. If anything, Harry could always rely on charitable </span>work. Since the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lesotho</u> trip, Harry felt <u>more</u> <u>passionate</u> <u>than</u> <u>ever</u> to continue his mother's causes. That was <u>enough</u> of a <u>full</u> life.</div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Harry was invited to join <u style="font-style: italic;">Walking With The Wounded</u> on a serendepitious trip. He <u>wanted</u> to say <u>Yes</u>! He was dying to. Just one problem: It was <u>close</u> to William's announced wedding. He would <u>have</u> <u>to</u> beeline there-and-back or risk missing it. Both, Harry and <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> were <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u>. After asking for advice, <u style="font-weight: bold;">realizing</u> it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> go. But, first priorities <u>needed</u> tending to. In direct continuation of the Nazi debacle, Harry and his friends organized a trip to Berlin. And so in December 2010, a <u style="font-weight: bold;">bitterly</u> <span style="color: #9fc5e8;">cold</span> day. Harry stood at the former site of the Berlin Wall, which was also the sight of the SS torture chamber, and Harry <u>swore</u> he could hear the echos of <u>HISTORY</u>! It was <u>there</u> that Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">understood</u> the resonance of him in that Nazi uniform. It was the result of <u>various</u> failures - fail to think, failure of character, as well as a failure of education. <u>Not</u> <u>just</u> school education, but self-education. Harry resolved to change that. Harry <u>couldn't</u> become the person he hoped to be until <u>He</u> changed.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9MOlPEACoT2CiDIBjSencDQ76AOLExzgTZbzW1dtq9apNQe_0rNhsfgiEa8bpBYfuuRW9Xz-daF0yeEev0zfbclreiUx5CGXzxqWL94SRyp92L6Bvj9seFFykMLJvhdyyo9oME4F-HfWnjpG3Y6unZUhJT4Z5H-46U3zH4zJ_byfjZEvrW_d5VBSoNYp/s239/images.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="211" data-original-width="239" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9MOlPEACoT2CiDIBjSencDQ76AOLExzgTZbzW1dtq9apNQe_0rNhsfgiEa8bpBYfuuRW9Xz-daF0yeEev0zfbclreiUx5CGXzxqWL94SRyp92L6Bvj9seFFykMLJvhdyyo9oME4F-HfWnjpG3Y6unZUhJT4Z5H-46U3zH4zJ_byfjZEvrW_d5VBSoNYp/s1600/images.png" width="239" /></a></div>On the eve of William's wedding, the brothers had dinner with Charles at <u style="font-style: italic;">Clearance House</u>, as well as William's best man. The public <u>told</u> Harry was to be best man; but it was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">bold</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">faced</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">lie</u>, and thus the Palace saw <u>no</u> <u>choice</u> but to <u>say</u> Harry was. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>, William <u>didn't</u> <u>want</u> Harry giving a best man speech. William didn't want his brother going off-script with a <u>live</u> mic. William didn't think it was <u>safe</u> to hand him a mic. Harry <u>might</u> say something <u>wildly</u> inappropriate. William <u>wasn't</u> wrong. With what Harry & William are <u>already</u> subjected to, they didn't want to put that on others. William <b><u>explained</u></b> this and Harry didn't blink. Harry <u>understood</u>. They even laughed at what would be <u>inappropriate</u>. It became pleasant and jolly, despite William <u>visibly</u> suffering from groom jitters. Meanwhile, Harry regaled tales of his time at war.</div><div><br /></div><div>There were times when William <u>begged</u> for his brother to be by his side. Harry could <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u> it in his brother's face & eyes that the rum was hitting <b><u>HARD</u>!</b> Harry sensed he needed to be a wingman. <u>Painfully</u> familiar for him. But whatever. Throughout the excitement, Harry couldn't help but shake his head. On the eve of William's BIG day it <u>neared</u> the boys' <u>WORST</u> day. Harry observed his brother <u>several</u> times. William tuned in early out of tipsyness. But, <b><u>every</u> <u>inch</u> </b> of the boys physicality <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">shut</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u>. Harry was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shocked</u>, therefore, when he went to pick his brother up in the morning, William looked like he <u>hadn't</u> slept <b><u>AT</u> <u>ALL</u>!</b> <span style="color: red;">Red eyes</span> and a gaunt face. William tried to play it off fine. <i>But</i>, he wasn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>After dressing and getting ready, after they prepared to get in the car and pulling away, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> say something: <i>DAMN</i>! <i>You reek</i>! Harry tried to cover his brother's ass. He jokingly cracked a window, pinched his nose - offered his brother some mints. This somewhat made Harry's stomach churn; getting married in the <u>same</u> location as their mom's funeral. Harry then shot a glance at his brother.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKpEnYBDu768gS86wLz-i-so1d3AsruHteKl56DIjI0TKWcN8dm9zsDTpcOBYegX5IcXXriMxw-scMGzrhqcwjBXSVvlOF5rKd1c4iVS2SEF3yX1xoK2N7SugrzUI_HGTgzu2bSTOEjRm8yCUlDEaFmMwhHmTf_XuN_cNv6lijTDELr9X-g3FUFemGLsxW/s1024/William-Kate-Harry.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="1024" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKpEnYBDu768gS86wLz-i-so1d3AsruHteKl56DIjI0TKWcN8dm9zsDTpcOBYegX5IcXXriMxw-scMGzrhqcwjBXSVvlOF5rKd1c4iVS2SEF3yX1xoK2N7SugrzUI_HGTgzu2bSTOEjRm8yCUlDEaFmMwhHmTf_XuN_cNv6lijTDELr9X-g3FUFemGLsxW/s320/William-Kate-Harry.webp" width="320" /></a></div>The boys went inside, shoulder-to-shoulder. Harry looked again at his uniform and cap. They were grown men shouldering along, but walking with the same tenacity as their mother's funeral. It wasn't <u>just</u> their mom's memories; it was still so hard to think of their mom in the realm of death. In the many faucets of who his mother was, could Diana be <i>in the Beyond</i> with artists <b><u>GREATS</u>!</b> Harry began pacing, <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shaking</u> his arms; just as <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxious</u> on the groom. Harry tried to break the tension with <u>no</u> <u>reaction</u> as they <u>both</u> paced around. The ceremony is mostly a blank in Harry's memory. Harry loved his new sister-in-law, feeling she was more <i>sister</i> than in-law, the sister Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> knew he had or wanted. Harry was <u>pleased</u> Kate was <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> joined by William's side. She was a good match and made each other visibly happy, and therefore made them happy. In his gut, Harry couldn't help but feel this was yet another farewell in the heart.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry knew this would separate them. He had the same feeling when Charles got married. In the Camilla era, Harry predicted that he would see his brother less and less. After happy occasions, people, even brothers, tend to fare-thee-well and onto their separate ways.</div><div><br /></div><div>It occurred to Harry that identity <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">is</u> a hierarchy. They are primarily one thing rather than a line of succession. Each new identity assumes the throne of Self, but it takes us further from our <u>original</u> self. Each new step into adulthood lures us away from childhood. which is diluted as life progresses. Harry watched as William grew up into the man he became; along with the succession. He would grow up from Willy and become William. Good for him, but a loss for Harry all the same. William relayed several times that Harry was to act as a "<i>compare' </i>". Harry had to look the word up. He road-tested a few lines on <u style="font-style: italic;">JLP</u>, but Harry just winged it<b>. </b>He regaled in childhood stories and a few read snippets. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> to see anyone's face but their mom's. Harry had the <u>clearest</u> vision in his mind of her baby's BIG DAY! </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSchI2IVxqDhooe448sB6_XlvpvVYQwkpSXCmz6pJ9ShWRnz3arfkjSH7HJ0WdgtH9TSFGIaXJQ8dyAGwUgdMd7LBYqkQGA_7EG3wr8e7WgQJtCUhXTyJod4IAXmUCGbzaTs4TyHXZ5JQUEEGb8Zu5T4KJvUi29Jfi96JS-VtyzGlVXsmK510lqSB9tob/s3840/ea.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPSchI2IVxqDhooe448sB6_XlvpvVYQwkpSXCmz6pJ9ShWRnz3arfkjSH7HJ0WdgtH9TSFGIaXJQ8dyAGwUgdMd7LBYqkQGA_7EG3wr8e7WgQJtCUhXTyJod4IAXmUCGbzaTs4TyHXZ5JQUEEGb8Zu5T4KJvUi29Jfi96JS-VtyzGlVXsmK510lqSB9tob/s320/ea.png" width="320" /></a></div>Harry kept feeling the sensation of Frostbite in his Netheregions due to travels in the <span style="color: #3d85c6;">Arctic cold</span>. It was then oscillating between extremely sensitive and borderline <u style="font-weight: bold;">traumatized</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> some home remedies, one which included applying cream from <u style="font-style: italic;">Elizabeth Arden</u>. It <i>creeped</i> Harry out that his mom used the same product. But, Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">guaranteed</u> a cure. Harry found a tube, and the <u>minute</u> he opened it, he was transported through time. He felt as if his mother was <u>there</u> in the room. Harry then applied it. . . ."down stairs". He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to see a doctor <u style="font-weight: bold;">A.S.A.P.</u> But, he couldn't ask <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> to find him one. Word of mouth to the press. Harry couldn't phone a doctor <u>at</u> <u>random</u> on his own. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">fucked</u> from the start. Talk about <u>double</u>. Harry asked another friend, <u>very</u> <u>directly</u>, a dermatologist who specialized in Harry's <u>problem</u>. Tall order. His friend said his father knew just the guy. He gave Harry a name/address and he jumped directly into the car with his bodyguard. A bodyguard snuck Harry through a backdoor, into an office. Harry seen the doctor. </div><div><br /></div><div>Without looking up, Harry was asked to step behind the curtain, disrobe and he'd be with Harry momentarily. Harry went behind stripped & hopped onto the examination table. After 5 minutes, and recognition, Harry showed him his cockery, softened by <u style="font-style: italic;">Elizabeth Arden</u>. The doctor didn't see anything. For <u>whatever</u> reason, Harry's particular case of frostnip manifested as a greatly heightened "<i>sensation</i>". Harry described the cascading dysfunctions: <u style="font-weight: bold;">Everything</u> was difficult: Sitting, Walking, Fucking; was out of the question. <u>Worse</u>, Harry's cockery <u>felt</u> <u>like</u> it was <i>having sex</i>. Or ready to. Harry was at a <u>total</u> loss. He made the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> mistake of researching his symptoms and read him the worst case scenarios. After being assured of relief, the doctor was going to <u>rule</u> <u>out</u> other things. The doctor gave Harry a <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u>, more than evasive, examination with no stone unturned. Only to find out that <i>Time Heals All Wounds</i>. Which was a <u>foreign</u> concept in Harry's experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was hard for Harry to see Chelsea at William's wedding. Jealousy had gotten the better of him, and Harry told her so, which made him feel <u>worse</u>. And a bit pathetic. Harry needed to move on. Find someone new. Friends tried to help. They organized a few. Nothing ever panned out. So, Harry was <u>barely</u> listening when they mentioned another name in 2011. After describing this date's attributes and single status, and she wasn't to be single long. <u>Spike</u>! At first, Harry rolled his eyes and chucked it off his back. Out of wonders-of-wonders, they did. They sat at a bar; chatted, laughed while the world rolled away. Harry then suggested the whole group went back to <u style="font-style: italic;">Clarence House</u> for a nightcap. After the party broke up and gave Florence a ride home, he accepted a cup of tea in her flat. Having his bodyguard drive around awhile.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zVTRXEVLc7aewAWSSmsN4IgbEUDUcE4O_URL8Pksw-WjVlqWFrOoF9Y2EgF2VPekw0bsyeCdnSa23O2bG5Rjsnpr5xAKc9s_3tNgQT4EYsNR7UIvn7ryUoo4YtWsYgG-4YnhWcLoouLbeIYfYzAIQr0LUbHygtp4ICizdueKopSlziy8EQG_U4ZOcVxH/s1044/sir-winston-tea-royal-earl-grey-20-double-chamber-bags-850659-en.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="1044" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zVTRXEVLc7aewAWSSmsN4IgbEUDUcE4O_URL8Pksw-WjVlqWFrOoF9Y2EgF2VPekw0bsyeCdnSa23O2bG5Rjsnpr5xAKc9s_3tNgQT4EYsNR7UIvn7ryUoo4YtWsYgG-4YnhWcLoouLbeIYfYzAIQr0LUbHygtp4ICizdueKopSlziy8EQG_U4ZOcVxH/s320/sir-winston-tea-royal-earl-grey-20-double-chamber-bags-850659-en.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Over the first cup of <u style="font-style: italic;">Earl Grey</u>. Harry wondered if he met the lady of his dreams? Their connection was <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u>. Harry was also <u>that</u> <u>mad</u>deningly <u>pissed</u>. She could see it written in his face. They seen each other often, laughed at lot, and <u>no</u> <u>one</u> knew. Hope got the better of Harry. The press found out and she was upset, crying and Harry <u>felt</u> <u>like</u> crying, but <i>of course</i> he <u>didn't</u>. She was <u>firm</u>. She <u>just</u> <u>couldn't</u> deal with what comes from being in a relationship with Harry. Weeks later, Harry heard this lady was back with an ex. That only this lady would be hounded by the press. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry <u>stopped</u> sleeping. He <u>simply</u> <u>stopped</u>. He was so disappointed, so profoundly dejected, that he <u>stayed</u> <u>AWAKE</u> pacing and thinking. Wishing he'd had a TV. Mornings on a military base, with <u>zero</u> sleep, Harry would try to fly like an Apache. A <u>complete</u> recipe for disaster. Harry tried herbal remedies. They helped a bit, Harry was able to get an hour-or-2 of sleep, but they left Harry feeling brain-dead <u>most</u> mornings. Then the Army informed him he'd be hitting the road - a series of maneuvers and exercises. It could snap Harry out of his funk or be the last straw. They first sent Harry to America in the Southwest. Conditions were said to be similar to Afghanistan. Harry became more fluid with the Apache, more <u>lethal</u> with missiles. Next, Harry went to Cornwall in January 2012. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry had heard a word from his grandmother. She wanted him to go on a 2-week tour to commemorate her 60TH year as her reign in the Caribbean. Harry's <u>first</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">official</u> royal tour of representation. It was strange to be called away <u>so</u> <u>suddenly</u>, with a finger snap, from Harry's duties. Harry's grandmother was after all, his commander. In March 2012, it began with a trip to Belize. From there, he visited a lost city called Yunantunich. In the Bahamas, Harry met ministers, musicians, journalists, athletes, priests. He attended church services,sheet festivals, a state dinner and drank to the crowded toasts. From there, Harry went to Jamaica, bonded with the prime minister, ran a footrace with Usain Bolt. At every step, Harry planted a tree, or several,. Royal traditions - but Harry did them <u>his</u> way. When Harry got home, the reviews were raves. Harry represented well. Reported back to his grandmother. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRyl89XSPhE64wN8SbSrcQ6GSivGoXomyCw13Y_7ybzRExSUeg6TKcoQn-xcARwNdhkWCINla0EG2V4WrbFeyWBgWDIeo4vwUE_0nEUy8T3f5BtaeAz6LjXJHmBCijmY4xl2fZirs3j8a-bIURq35atGB-69VI6JXll-ab0u9ik6XinVdPA-qqiRFJ0lxG/s1000/prince-harry-rupert-murdoch.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="1000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRyl89XSPhE64wN8SbSrcQ6GSivGoXomyCw13Y_7ybzRExSUeg6TKcoQn-xcARwNdhkWCINla0EG2V4WrbFeyWBgWDIeo4vwUE_0nEUy8T3f5BtaeAz6LjXJHmBCijmY4xl2fZirs3j8a-bIURq35atGB-69VI6JXll-ab0u9ik6XinVdPA-qqiRFJ0lxG/s320/prince-harry-rupert-murdoch.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prince Harry & Rupert Murdoch</td></tr></tbody></table>Parties, clubs, pubs, Harry went <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> alot that spring. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">longer</u> caring where he went, paps were there/present. Becoming more <u style="font-weight: bold;">ruthless</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">aggressive</u> than other paps. They blocked his path, chased him in the security car. <u>Blocking</u> Harry's entryway to the car, then chase the car down the street. <u>Not</u> <u>only</u> was Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">hounded</u> by the press; so was William. Following Harry everywhere, tormenting him, getting rich off of him. They also liked to rub his nose in it. Many paps <u>wanted</u> a reaction, a tussle. But some seemed to want to fight to the death. Harry <u>fantasized</u> about punching them. After a few <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> breaths reminding himself: Don't Do It. Just what they <u>wanted</u>. For a lawsuit and fame. Some kinds of fame provide extra freedom; but <u>royal</u> fame was fancy captivity. It was around this time that Harry found Rupert Murdoch's business <u>pure</u> <u>evil</u>. Firsthand. Harry didn't care for Murdoch's politics. Harry didn't like the harm done each and every day. What sickened Harry was Murdoch's ever prowing following.</div><div><br /></div><div>The <u>one</u> <u>goof</u> <u>thing</u> about <u style="font-weight: bold;">hounding</u> press was it made Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> for war. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">filled</u> him with <u>choking</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">rage</u>, always a good precursor for battle. They also made Harry want to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANYWHERE</u> but England. Once Harry begged for his orders, as it often does. . . Harry was at a music festival, and a cousin tapped him on the shoulder to introduce him to someone. Harry still had a broken heart. The situation could tell there were <i>sparks</i> abound. Soon after dinner, she told Harry about her life, her family and her dreams. Her ambition to be an actress. She was soft-spoken and shy, acting was the <u>last</u> profession Harry imagined for him. She confessed it made her feel <u>ALIVE</u>! <u>Free</u>. She made it sound like flying. Weeks later, at the end of another date, Harry gave her a lift home. He wanted to take it slow. Harry leaned in to give her a kiss, but his arm was off. In the midst of leaning in for a kiss and she turned. He tried again on a return trip that became <u>peacefully</u> awkward. The next morning, Harry phoned his cousin. Discouraged and lying about the outcome of the date. Leaving the ending to be desired. They were <u>both</u> in agreement.</div><div><br /></div><div>They met days later for dinner. For their next date being drinks with friends, before Harry knew what was happening, they were a thing. Sadly, Harry could only see her on weekends. He was <u>busier</u> than ever, doing his <u>final</u> preps for deployment. Then, Harry got his official orders, his <u>actual</u> deployment date and the actual clock was <u>loudly</u> ticking. For the second time in life, Harry <u>needed</u> to tell a young woman he'd soon be going off to war. She was willing to wait. . . .but <u>not</u> <u>forever</u>. It was easier for Harry to confess the break-up and others the <u>truth</u>. He was <u>grateful</u> for its outcome. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdzEA3HSKpjZTQvHnL1FZPnUzuyHhawnKA1SJh6xT7fzklkqAx9BNCOxKHMYgkfblTcK9oGemHojdL9bWI9YTmMCp3aAo05UBE6LKw63zi_GaVJv0G41Av4KAQar2jelM9DQlwkkmJknG6ZgjYHJE3GWBOY7ahpdw1TrRbC2VBcdEcAcRjj-eeIdghVqdq/s634/article-2063763-0EDDE19700000578-307_634x471.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="634" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdzEA3HSKpjZTQvHnL1FZPnUzuyHhawnKA1SJh6xT7fzklkqAx9BNCOxKHMYgkfblTcK9oGemHojdL9bWI9YTmMCp3aAo05UBE6LKw63zi_GaVJv0G41Av4KAQar2jelM9DQlwkkmJknG6ZgjYHJE3GWBOY7ahpdw1TrRbC2VBcdEcAcRjj-eeIdghVqdq/s320/article-2063763-0EDDE19700000578-307_634x471.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Due to the aforementioned war upon them, Harry's mates urged him to seize the day. Thinking about the events in his life, Harry seen it as a lesson to <u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">advantage</u> of Vegas. A year prior, after exercises in Gila Bend, Harry and his crew had rented Harley's, ridden them from Phoenix to Vegas. Most of the trip went <u>un</u>noticed. He, now, after a farewell weekend, flew to Nevada to do it again. Then stayed in the same</div><div><span>hotel. Harry and his crew <u>all</u> chipped in on the same suite. That first night, or a blurry next, someone ordered food, someone ordered cocktails. Then, they <u>loudly</u> caught up shooting the shit. For dinner they hit a steakhouse and ate like kings. <i>New York Strip, 3 kinds of pasta, really nice <span style="color: #cc0000;">red</span> wine</i>.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Afterwards, Harry went to a casino, played <u style="font-style: italic;">BlackJack</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">Roulette</u>, for which Harry lost. Tired, after awhile, Harry excused himself and went back to his suite, early. The next morning, they ordered a <span style="color: red; font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">Bloody Mary</span><span> breakfast. Next, off to enjoy <u>pool</u> season in Vegas by buying beach balls for <u>everyone</u> to break the ice. Harry and his crew felt <u>that</u> nerdy and needy. Harry was in it for his friends. He was taken care of thanks to comfort from his girlfriend, texting her <u>several</u> times from the pool for re-assurance. People kept handing Harry drinks. By the time the sun was at its <u><span style="color: red;">HEAT</span>;</u> Harry was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">rough</u> shape and filled with . . . "<i>ideas</i>". He needed something to commemorate his sense of freedom, his sense of <i>carpe diem</i>: A tattoo? Yes! On the side of his foot! A symbol of his time in Botswana. Harry's friend's <u>promised</u> to physically stop him from doing this. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> getting a tattoo on their watch. Least of all, a foot tattoo in Botswana. They would <u>physically</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">knock</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">him</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> - <u style="font-weight: bold;">whatever</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u>! After <u>listening</u> to their arguments, the tattoo could wait until the next day.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrRjxbEDruESmnWbz8HHOvtdqPMfnoKEW06VEuZSffyHks1VNdesTEOx0jRNTng-KyMrXfGo363VgyVrGAXUQBH9KAJlnSNGnkMYUBoBRfyu6Ja4u046GQ8wauCc8gFPOSy6cHvqd1NskclDVJYuqHfzJm1NmZqT0Cekm4jVUVdvrVelNfTVKjQIHsb9y/s737/fa0f23721c0379a46dd36f0131fcc313.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="721" data-original-width="737" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrRjxbEDruESmnWbz8HHOvtdqPMfnoKEW06VEuZSffyHks1VNdesTEOx0jRNTng-KyMrXfGo363VgyVrGAXUQBH9KAJlnSNGnkMYUBoBRfyu6Ja4u046GQ8wauCc8gFPOSy6cHvqd1NskclDVJYuqHfzJm1NmZqT0Cekm4jVUVdvrVelNfTVKjQIHsb9y/s320/fa0f23721c0379a46dd36f0131fcc313.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Around 2AM, after a game of <u style="font-style: italic;">Pool</u> with his bodyguards, Harry returned following ladies to the <u style="font-style: italic;">BlackJack</u> table. For which, they <u>all</u> competed in a game of <u style="font-style: italic;">Strip Pool</u> after upping the betting ante. 10 minutes later, Harry was the big loser; being reduced to his underwear. Then, he lost them as well. It was <u>harmless</u> and silly. Until the next day, Harry found out and photos were <u>released</u> to the press. Harry as then <u>naked</u> before the eyes of the world. . . . seizing his "<i>size</i>". Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">berated</u> himself wondering <i><b>how could he let this happen</b></i><b>?</b> Harry's sense of <u style="font-weight: bold;">guilt</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">shame</u> made it harder at moments to draw a <u>clean</u> breath, Meanwhile, the press had released the photos. Harry thought of his superiors in the Army. While waiting for an outcome, Harry fled to <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u> to reunite with family. Charles was bemused. He felt for Harry and his position; having been in Harry's shoes. Something that <u>both</u> father/son could <u>eventually</u> bond over. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry's Army superiors - like his dad, never cared about what was happening in recent events. His status was unchanged. All systems go. Harry's fellow soldiers stood up for him too. Soldiers <u style="font-weight: bold;">off</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">types</u> posed naked, or nearly so, covering their privates with what's at their disposal, and posted their s online in <u style="font-weight: bold;">solidarity</u> with Prince Harry. <u>Best</u> <u>of</u> <u>all</u>: <u>None</u> of Harry's bodyguards were dismissed or even disciplined - mainly due to Harry keeping it a secret of them being on his accompaniment. But, the British papers, <u>knowing</u> that Harry was off to war, had a field day. It was a good time to leave. In September 2012, the same eternal flight; but this time Harry <u>wasn't</u> a stowaway.<u>This</u> <u>time</u>, Harry was a part of a team. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was the <u>first</u> in his squardron to pull the trigger in <i style="font-weight: bold;">anger</i>. After doing the job that he was <u>trained</u> for; Harry asked himself if he was callous, perhaps desensitized. Harry asked himself if his non-reaction has connected to a <u>long</u>-<u>standing</u> ambivalence towards death. Harry thought otherwise. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> simple math. Bad people doing things to <u>good</u> people. He was convinced by his mates to <u>see</u>/<u>understand</u> that those shooting at him were <u>no</u> <u>different</u> than the paparazzi who shot at him. <u>Through</u> <u>that</u>, Harry <u>understood</u> the assignments. Harry stuffed his <u style="font-style: italic;">Bergen</u> full of dusty-old clothes, plus 2 souvenirs: a rug bought in a bazaar, a 30-mm shell casing from the Apache.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsY2_IGx0Z8KY0a2htxvf4NFgZLhlO9uw2Ft8_hgo8gPy3XiaKfjRBEDOW7tKvppMX92S4azCVlnN3AdI6-6d8nG_NJkqWIOe439mcbTtexn4v2TPecWhYuezm4Jw5jSYuSLwvyZPEaZZJipSYAN8TkMNcVr5dgQ9g3xrXBdNb0BTWTeU4LGP7cf4glvI/s1280/27SZn7k8YjkjMnxscJgEuL.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="854" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsY2_IGx0Z8KY0a2htxvf4NFgZLhlO9uw2Ft8_hgo8gPy3XiaKfjRBEDOW7tKvppMX92S4azCVlnN3AdI6-6d8nG_NJkqWIOe439mcbTtexn4v2TPecWhYuezm4Jw5jSYuSLwvyZPEaZZJipSYAN8TkMNcVr5dgQ9g3xrXBdNb0BTWTeU4LGP7cf4glvI/s320/27SZn7k8YjkjMnxscJgEuL.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>Before Harry could get on the plane with his fellow soldiers, he went into a tent and sat for an interview. The <u>obligatory</u> exit interview. Harry's answers <u>surprised</u> the interviewer. The conversation came around toward the press. Telling him he thought the British press were for shit, particularly in regards to his brother and sister-in-law; who had just announced a pregnancy. Harry thought they <u>deserved</u> to have their baby in <u>peace</u>. Admitting that he read the newspaper out of guilt and it made him <u>complicit</u>. Harry felt a bit of mixed emotions saying goodbye to Afghanistan; but he <u>couldn't</u> wait to say goodbye to this interviewer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry flew with his squadron to Cyprus for decompression. He hadn't been allotted any <u style="font-weight: bold;">mandated</u> decompression since his last tour. So Harry was excited, though not as much as his bodyguards. Everyone was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excited</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> have a <span style="color: #3d85c6;">cold</span> beer. Everyone was issued only <u>2</u> cans per man. <u>No</u> <u>more</u>. Harry wasn't a beer man; so he handed his to a fellow mate who looked like he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> them <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> than he. The mate was <u style="font-weight: bold;">overjoyed</u>. They were then taken to a comedy show. Attendance was quasi-mandatory. The organizer had good intentions for a moment of <u>relief</u> after a <u style="font-weight: bold;">stressful</u> event. It was okay. But offputting. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">unknowingly</u> struggling. They had <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> to mentally/physically <u style="font-weight: bold;">process</u>. There were people on-sight to talk . . .but <u>no</u> <u>one</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u> going to <u style="font-weight: bold;">talk</u> to them.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokfqGCWfkBd-f2OIR7OcOJWYjWZEAl-LzTMjFA1p6KmQtrvmpVqfO-IOQJb_0kDICMgH2XGySuk5RIjoRmapacsueXwx5gqEyj4g0SuXJaJw4zuDHLw-QSurxh9dnrYGdP-AQ_whDFbvugar_Ufk4XA1PvBxQTjtoZyT5JCLHEJVXRj3MbqdGWMTJBwQ3/s768/61Dp2ghRh0L._AC_SX679_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="768" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokfqGCWfkBd-f2OIR7OcOJWYjWZEAl-LzTMjFA1p6KmQtrvmpVqfO-IOQJb_0kDICMgH2XGySuk5RIjoRmapacsueXwx5gqEyj4g0SuXJaJw4zuDHLw-QSurxh9dnrYGdP-AQ_whDFbvugar_Ufk4XA1PvBxQTjtoZyT5JCLHEJVXRj3MbqdGWMTJBwQ3/s320/61Dp2ghRh0L._AC_SX679_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>So, they sat in a comedy show <u>waiting</u>. Harry felt bad for the comedians. He <u>seen</u> what they went through for their craft. Before leaving Cypress, word was out of Harry being in press papers. <u>SHIT</u>! He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">forgotten</u> about the prior interview. Apparently, Harry's words of killing people caused quite a stir. In war. He was criticized up/down for being a killer. In war. And being blithe about it. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>, Harry was a killer in <u>video</u> <u>games</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point, Harry seemed to be in an <u>unhappy</u> routine. He got up, went to the base, did his work and enjoyed <u>none</u> <u>of</u> <u>it</u>. And <u style="font-weight: bold;">boring</u>. Harry was <u>bored</u> to tears. For the first time in years, Harry was without a purpose. A goal. Harry asked himself. . . what was Next? He <u>begged</u> his C.O. to send him back to the war zone. They said <u>no</u>! In March 2013, it was announced that the Palace was sending him on another royal tour. His <u>first</u> since the Caribbean. This time: America. Harry was <u>glad</u> for the monotony. On the other hand, Harry was worried about returning to the events of what happened prior to Vegas. Palace couriers assured him it would be <u>impossible</u>. Time and the war in of itself. A goodwill tour to promote the rehab of wounded British/American soldiers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry phoned his friend whom had their brotherly quality they had <u>each</u> become to one another. These were friends whom had grown-up with William and Harry; knew their mother and reminisced about time gone by. Angry voices, a struggle. Harry put the phone on speaker, shot down the corridor, up the stairs, burst into the police room. It was at that point that Harry <u>heard</u> his friend being mugged. Several bodyguards, along with Harry, <u>raced</u> there and found his friend on the side of the road. Near <u style="font-style: italic;">Albert Bridge</u>. Beaten. Shaken. They drove him to the <u>nearest</u> police station, where he signed a statement and drove him home. Along the way; they were gratuitous in coming to the rescue. <i>What are friends for</i>?</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was given a <u>desk</u> at <u style="font-style: italic;">Wattisham Airfield</u>; which he <u style="font-weight: bold;">hated</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stand</u> sitting at a desk. Memories of his dad and what Harry <u>seen</u>; were <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> his life. Harry was also given a new task and reassigned to refine his knowledge of the Apache. Whatever task at hand, Harry didn't feel like it was his <u>calling</u>. Harry saw it as avenue in returning to war. Once again, the Army <u>declined</u>. At the end of each day, Harry left <u style="font-style: italic;">Wattisham</u>, and drove back to <u style="font-style: italic;">Kensington Palace</u>. He was <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> with his dad & Camilla. He was assigned to his own flat in the new halfway underground. The flat suite Harry's mood. <b>Darkness</b> at noon suited his mood. Plus, it gave Harry a chance to live on his <u>own</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was around this time that William & Kate welcomed their <u>first</u> child. Harry was now an <u>uncle</u>. Prince George. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wait</u> to show him what he knew. Harry <b><u>couldn't</u> <u>be</u> </b><u>happier</u>. The baby moved Harry one link down the chain of succession, making Harry <u>4TH</u> from the throne instead of <u>3RD</u>. Reporters had a field day. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">honesty</u>; Harry was <u>delighted</u> for his brother and sister-in-law. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">indifferent</u> to his place in order of succession. Either way with <u style="font-weight: bold;">ABSOLUTELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> to do with <u>this</u> situation; Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOWHERE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">close</u> to Happy.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqH_JZ2It82Ixgz3hpyNuieCWCsTvFgkRWJlb4Czj4PxubcBJ9swEIkr_pUY7rv3nGsVkHmjQJ_RHL1ptRu_4DLd_oydg2ww3YJfxVQMiKeV8zqQhlWsmANvd_niQcIYIQfXkj4wupwr-YOeNnkH1vt_THg9zoY6Xra0zuLOcgEmq6p-GnC1MZ0zTJ1Gl/s1280/190617141721-harry-diana-angola-mines-split-restricted.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqH_JZ2It82Ixgz3hpyNuieCWCsTvFgkRWJlb4Czj4PxubcBJ9swEIkr_pUY7rv3nGsVkHmjQJ_RHL1ptRu_4DLd_oydg2ww3YJfxVQMiKeV8zqQhlWsmANvd_niQcIYIQfXkj4wupwr-YOeNnkH1vt_THg9zoY6Xra0zuLOcgEmq6p-GnC1MZ0zTJ1Gl/s320/190617141721-harry-diana-angola-mines-split-restricted.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In August 2013, Harry traveled to war-torn Angola, on an official visit. Wearing the same protective attire his mother had worn on her <u style="font-weight: bold;">historic</u> trip. Even working with the <u>same</u> charity that invited her: <u style="font-style: italic;">HaloTrust</u>. What Diana had started was now stalled due to lack of resource.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was Diana's <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">passionate</u> cause at the end. (<i>She'd gone to Bosnia 3 week prior to her trip in Paris 1997</i>.) Diana's vision of a world rid of land mines seemed within reach. Now, the world was going backwards. Taking up his mother's cause, detonating a landmine himself, made Harry feel <u>closer</u> to his mom, and gave him <u>strength</u>, and hope. For a brief moment. But, <u>overall</u> he felt that he was walking each day through a psychological, emotional minefold. Upon returning to Britain, Harry took another dive into the research. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">desperate</u> to find a cause, a treatment. He even spoke to their dad, took him into his <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidence</u>. Opened up to him. Charles sent him to a doctor, which was nice of him, but he was just a GP (<i>general practitioner</i>) with <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HELP</u> to Harry's problem. He wanted to give Harry pills. Something Harry <u>objected</u> to! Not until he exhausted <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">other</u> remedies. </div><div><br /></div><div>In Harry's research, he came across many people <u>recommending</u> magnesium, which <u>at</u> <u>some</u> <u>point</u>, had a calming effect. <u style="font-weight: bold;">But</u>, it also had <u style="font-weight: bold;">alarming</u> side effects - loosening bowels - which Harry learned at the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">inopportune</u> time at a friend's wedding. Over dinner one night at <u style="font-style: italic;">Highgrove</u>, father/son spoke <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">length</u> about what Harry'd been suffering from. Harry gave him the highlights. Story after story. Towards the end of the meal, Charles tended to blame <u>himself</u> to help Harry that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">should've</u> received <u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ago</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">discouraged</u> otherwise but <u>appreciated</u> the apology. As autumn neared, his <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">heightened</u> by an impending birthday, the <u>last</u> of his 20s. Harry began to question himself. His identity. His perceptions of life. <u>Normal</u>, Valid questions one asks himself, except it seemed that the press was mocking him in his search.</div><div><br /></div><div>They dredged up past relationships. Speaking to <u>anyone</u> <u>ever</u> associated with him. Books were written on deviated subjects. <u>Behind</u> all of this being written about him were <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> more about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORY</u> of the Monarch. It was more of an adjourning <u>name</u> in marriage. As a confirmed bachelor, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u> about monarchy responsibilities entitled with wedded responsibilities. <u>But</u>, he <u>did</u> care about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">respect</u>. As a bachelor, Harry seen it as an outsider. If Harry wanted to change, he would have to get hitched. That <u>simple</u>. All of which made Harry's 29TH birthday a <u>complex</u> milestone, and some day a <u>complex</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">migraine</u>. He <i>shuddered</i> to think of his next one: <u>30</u>. Upon reaching this age, Harry'd receive a large sum of inheritance left by his mother.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwfrBK1xijQ-jf9T3WoqSPv36s6nnWzu33mKLgAlWlhxaBE-czJNC-SuxoNcbFVMX7zd32rxhDukRQurn8t-me_RLXwzA-2WN1hclGNxRDNMIFTQdCHia-Gt8_qYd0FUUINjhy55yDisPn3-Did-yM8MQXGfyZnyIqgUWO0GW8ufvXjr09z2r-31j3hldz/s960/BtB3SoCIgN8H5TEf0A1RcNjgt29tMed.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwfrBK1xijQ-jf9T3WoqSPv36s6nnWzu33mKLgAlWlhxaBE-czJNC-SuxoNcbFVMX7zd32rxhDukRQurn8t-me_RLXwzA-2WN1hclGNxRDNMIFTQdCHia-Gt8_qYd0FUUINjhy55yDisPn3-Did-yM8MQXGfyZnyIqgUWO0GW8ufvXjr09z2r-31j3hldz/s320/BtB3SoCIgN8H5TEf0A1RcNjgt29tMed.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking With The Wounded</td></tr></tbody></table>Harry scolded himself to <u>go</u> <u>there</u>. It was just another reminder of her absence, another sign of the void left by her. To <u>excuse</u> his birthday, Harry ventured to travel to South Pole. Another trek to <u style="font-style: italic;">Walk With The Wounded</u>. Due to the incidents of the <u>previous</u> direction, Harry <u>ventured</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">prepare</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u>. Take precautions. <u style="font-style: italic;">Enough</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">said</u>! </div><div><br /></div><div>To prepare for an event such as an <u style="font-style: italic;">International Warrior Game</u>, Harry flew to the Antartic, landed at a research station where the hosts were <u>fabulous</u>. They housed him, fed him and their soups were <u>amazing</u>. Harry couldn't put down their <span style="color: red;">piping hot</span> chicken noodle soup. Harry and his crew spent a week carb-loading, gearing up and throwing down <u>Vodka</u>. At last, they climbed into a plane, flew up to the ice shelf, and stopped to refuel. Harry <u>quietly</u> and <u>serenely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">look</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> the atmosphere of his surroundings. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> been anywhere <u>half</u> as peaceful. Overcome with joy, Harry did a headstand. Months & months of <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</u> <u>passed</u> <u>away</u> . . .if only for a moment.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was then that Harry had, in the event of, drinking, smoking and partying til dawn; breaking his toe by dropping a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEAVY</u> Brass Chair with wheels onto his foot. So, inevitably, Harry could barely walk with his injury. But, <u>no</u> <u>matter</u> <u>what</u>, Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> not to let his team down. <u>Somehow</u>, Harry kept up with his fellow travelers, walking <u>9 Hours</u> each day pulling a sledge that weighed 200LBS. It was hard for everyone to get traction in the snow, for Harry, his <u>main</u> problem was the wind. If there was a point when Harry felt the sense of complaining; he thought of his situation compared to those around him. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">vowed</u> that <u>no</u> <u>whining</u> would come from him. Harry told himself to <u>stay</u> <u>present</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Be</u> the snow, <u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u> the <span style="color: #3d85c6;">cold</span>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u> each step. And it worked. Harry fell himself into a trance, and even when his thoughts were <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u>, Harry was able to <u>stare</u> at them and watch them float away. Thought-after-thought chain into some sort of <u>sense</u>. All factories of life connect. . . .Then came the crazies. </div><div><br /></div><div>The South Pole, counterintuitively, had an altitude sickness that perceived a <u>real</u> danger. Starting slowly, and Harry brushed it off. Then, it <u>knocked</u> Harry <u>on</u> <u>his</u> <u>ass</u>. Head spinning, followed by a <u style="font-weight: bold;">crushing</u> migraine & brain <u>pressure</u>. Harry didn't want to stop. But, his body was <b><u>DONE</u>!</b> His knees buckled and his upper torso followed. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIT</u> the snow <b><u>HARD</u>!</b> Medics examined him, gave him some sort of anti-migraine injection. Could've been a shot of steroids in the ass. When Harry came to, he felt semi-revived. He then <u>tried</u> to get back to the group, and tried to find a way <u>back</u> to his trance. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Be</u> the snow. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Be</u> the <span style="color: #3d85c6;">cold</span>. As they neared their location. they were <u>in</u> <u>sync</u>, <u>all</u> <u>elated</u>. They could <u>see</u> their destination through crusted eyelashes. They were <u>instructed</u> to stop and set-up camp with their destination <u>really</u> <u>close</u>. Camping in the shadow of <u style="font-style: italic;">the Pole</u>, <u>none</u> of them could stop. They were too excited. And thus, they had a party. Drinking. Horseplay.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, at first light, 12-13-2013, they took off and stormed <u style="font-style: italic;">The Pole</u>. On or near the <u>exact</u> spot was a huge circle of flags representing the 12 signatures. They stood before the flags, exhausted, relieved & disoriented. Then, they hugged it out. Some press stories <u>may</u> <u>have</u> exaggerated <u>some</u> things; hell, Harry doesn't remember. Along with everyone else, Harry scurried along this <u>ugly</u> building to warm up, take a piss and drink some cocoa. There was a huge cafe and they were <u>all</u> starving. The cafe was closed. Only to be sufficed with a glass of water. A test tube with a tiny cork on the top. From there, Harry went <u>directly</u> from the South Pole to <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham</u>. Christmas with the family. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was given in a mini-room in a narrow back door; among the offices of Palace staff. Harry had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> stayed there. He liked the notion of seeing and exploring <u>uncharted</u> territory. Due to the living conditions, it made Harry feel <u>underappreciated</u>. For a place that was to be his <u>home</u>, Harry felt like a guest and a bit <u>unloved</u>. He assured himself to make the <u>best</u> of it. Harry, himself, kept it clean. His family had an infection in their hard drives <u style="font-style: italic;">Malware</u>. It was <u>largely</u> due to the achievement records of everyone. At the end of the year, when the numbers were tallied, comparisons were in the press. It didn't <u style="font-style: italic;">create</u> competitiveness in the family, but it <u>surely</u> weaponized it. It may not have been spoken about; but it; but it was felt in the air.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the time the holidays rolled around in 2013, Harry was <u>quite</u> content in the back corridors, in his micro room, looking at the <u style="font-style: italic;">South Pole</u> on his tablet/IPAD. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Staring</u> at his little test tube, Harry couldn't help but <u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">cleanest</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">air</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">world</u>. Taking it all in <u style="font-weight: bold;">AT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONCE</u>! </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSc0Ld4yMrWqHQNz9jRHex6T8y_8veGVNtLhEpesA3kHw30X6EVxOWLFMePYNNRiZ4_iOMkUXrG4oJAbbl-JUDajumVcUyHQxMRdjF69A94eOVMXC3NaRORnKINyR_QDHZ263atomIxrRNArMOrM1pNiDSLj0dQ3Po2nVf5hPMKCBzKgpliX8RJQv-O-O/s4000/21hbo8j0nov51.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2539" data-original-width="4000" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcSc0Ld4yMrWqHQNz9jRHex6T8y_8veGVNtLhEpesA3kHw30X6EVxOWLFMePYNNRiZ4_iOMkUXrG4oJAbbl-JUDajumVcUyHQxMRdjF69A94eOVMXC3NaRORnKINyR_QDHZ263atomIxrRNArMOrM1pNiDSLj0dQ3Po2nVf5hPMKCBzKgpliX8RJQv-O-O/s320/21hbo8j0nov51.png" width="320" /></a></div>Harry soon moved out of <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>. William & Kate had previously resided there. After their departure, they handed Harry the keys. It felt good to be out and neighbors with his brother and sister-in-law. Harry looked forward to popping in from time-to-time. But, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> turn out that way. Let's just say: <i>Life gets in the way of making other plans</i>. Harry seen their lives through <u>their</u> eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>In March 2014, Harry suffered a <i>panic attack</i> walking onstage at a concert at <u style="font-style: italic;">Wembley Arena</u>. He made his way to the center, clenched his fists gave his speech that commemorated <u style="font-style: italic;">We Day</u>. Harry was <u>mentally</u> thinking the last time he gave a speech at this location, of this venacular. . . .at the 10TH anniversary of his mother's death. Harry had been <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u>. But, <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> like this. He hurried off. Wiped the shine from his face, and staggered to his seat to join the others. When his friends seen them, he tried to catch his breath. The next morning, photos were in the press. After nearly 2 years of <u>secretly</u> courting under the radar, they were outed as a couple. Due to the events surrounding them, press really didn't care much for <u>them</u>.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>A friend had asked Harry about his mother. This friend had the right blend of curiosity and compassion. Maybe it was the alchemy of physical fatigue and Swiss hospitality. The fresh air and alcohol. It could've been the snow; or the culmination of the <u>past</u> 17 <u>years</u> of suppressed grief. Either way, in the midst of answering questions, Harry <u>broke</u> emotionally. He was taken aback by the emotions his body released. This was the <u>first</u> time Harry was able to <u style="font-weight: bold;">CRY</u> about his mother since her burial. Wiping his eyes, Harry was <b><u>GRATEFUL</u>!</b> He thanked her for helping him cross that barrier. Help him to unleash his emotions. It was cathartic. To reach the platitude, Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">immensely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u>. He felt indebted for what occurred, and that was the reason why, when returning home, he felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">miserable</u>, due to not being a match to whom he thought. There was emotion; but <u>not</u> everlasting love. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNHUYXMgQYCZ3tNXqBEDROQV3umGdlL95aGOrbmq6M1lls4o3oD4yrbJYIpJybttTKHDQ_-Xj75RyCYBeL4m8HGaI0ElhPvW8KYsGVvVahVYtRb6Qr8qNPv7PkUP71sxxdcRB3J_Hqy9VyctGzBtLTW3Gjohl9FrTMfz9PPzi1I4qMpN7yDSdfBDYO4AW/s767/prince-harry-news-meghan-markle-speech-invictus-games-pictures-latest-4025728.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="590" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNHUYXMgQYCZ3tNXqBEDROQV3umGdlL95aGOrbmq6M1lls4o3oD4yrbJYIpJybttTKHDQ_-Xj75RyCYBeL4m8HGaI0ElhPvW8KYsGVvVahVYtRb6Qr8qNPv7PkUP71sxxdcRB3J_Hqy9VyctGzBtLTW3Gjohl9FrTMfz9PPzi1I4qMpN7yDSdfBDYO4AW/s320/prince-harry-news-meghan-markle-speech-invictus-games-pictures-latest-4025728.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>In the most inopportune time, on the slopes, emotions <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIT</u> Harry. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">CLEAR</u>. Their relationship wasn't to succeed. After going home, Harry phoned a friend for advice. Without hesitation, he was advised to rip the band-aid off <u>quickly</u>. Without postponing the inevitable, little do they both realize. . . they helped <u>each</u> <u>other</u> release pent-up emotions. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was during a best friend's wedding and the occurring events, Harry shared in their joy. But, a small part of him wondered if/when it would be Harry's turn for love and marriage? Considering his life and situation, Harry <u>couldn't</u> see the fairness comparing his life to that of others. But, the universe had other plans for Harry. With the judicial times in London, his faith in the <u>entire</u> system took a <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> hit when a <u>renowned</u> murderer was released scot-free. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> a reset, a faith refresher. So, Harry went for it. He spent a few restorative days with his buddies. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> helped when he returned to Britain. He barricated himself into <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>. Harry didn't venture out much at all. Maybe a pop-in at a dinner party. But, it wasn't worth it. It became a paparazzi Groundhog Day. But, times with his buddies <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> stupidity among them when security's sensitivities were <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEIGHTENED</u> among the dumbass guys. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvT33pSIQRiDzR5A3pfH5rCgzX_2eUUKuYH14eGWZhuUY8gbE0GhF3GGc9qsZTu4inngscv8ql1-tKVAop2D8Po4EuB_Iw9S0IlgCsjUGq0YI9hvhxrjiCgxt_FSmlL6OfhZ7TyjDVt41NAzk5JM3QKtaahxwHZS61QvU9XvCqDaDM7QfOUEH4G-egTd_q/s700/5e270d1eab49fd637240c9f3.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvT33pSIQRiDzR5A3pfH5rCgzX_2eUUKuYH14eGWZhuUY8gbE0GhF3GGc9qsZTu4inngscv8ql1-tKVAop2D8Po4EuB_Iw9S0IlgCsjUGq0YI9hvhxrjiCgxt_FSmlL6OfhZ7TyjDVt41NAzk5JM3QKtaahxwHZS61QvU9XvCqDaDM7QfOUEH4G-egTd_q/s320/5e270d1eab49fd637240c9f3.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry had gone to Australia for a round of military exercises. While there, Harry got word that William and Kate had their second child. Charlotte. Harry was <b><u>HAPPY</u>!</b> As the press questioned Harry, they brought up the line of succession. At this time, Harry would've been 5TH in line. <u>Better</u> <u>that</u> than the <u>spare</u>. Harry <u>seen</u> the press' behavior acting like <u>total</u> assholes over this line of questioning. Harry answered their questions in a way that would make the reporter feel like an asshole. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was speculation that Harry was clinging to his bachelor status. If only they could <u>see</u> him in that particular state. Harry took care of <u>himself</u>. Aside from <u>his</u> <u>own</u> laundry, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">accomplished</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">own</u> cooking and <u>his</u> <u>own</u> food shopping. A supermarket near the palace that Harry ventured to, casually, <u>at</u> <u>least</u>, once a week. He would venture out at different times to throw off the press. He would disguise himself. Running along the aisles at warp-speed, <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWING</u> what he was getting. Harry memorized a map of the store. Then, he'd sprint to the checkout.</div><div><br /></div><div>After honing in on his mission, Harry clocked his time down to <u>10</u> minutes. But, one night, Harry went to return to the store, just as he had done before, only to find out the store had moved and reshelved <u>differently</u>. Harry hurried to an employee to ask why? The <u>truth</u> was to <u>keep</u> people in the store longer and purchased more. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> gobsmacked at their actions. A bit <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">frantic</u>, Harry resumed his shopping up/down the aisles, filling his cart as fast as he could whilst keeping his eye on the clock, then rush to the checkout. The checkout was <u>always</u> the trickiest due to whom was asked. </div><div><br /></div><div>On top of that, the checkout stood near the newsrack with media magazines. On nearly every one stood pictures of Harry and his family. Or his mom. Or Harry himself. More than once Harry overheard the silent whispers of debate concerning him. There were times when he was tempted to bust up the gossip. One night, in disguise, watching some people discussing him and his life choices, Harry became aware of raised voices where he was. An older married couple were abusing the cashier. At first it was <u>unpleasant</u>, then it became <u style="font-weight: bold;">intolerable</u>. Harry stepped forward, showed his face, and cleared his throat. He tried to broker peace between them. The cashier was the verge of tears. The couple identified him. <u>Not</u> <u>in</u> <u>least</u> <u>bit</u> <u>surprised</u>. Just offended to be called out on this couple's abusive behaviour.</div><div><br /></div><div>When they left, and it was Harry's turn to pay. The cashier tried to thank him as she bagged his avocados. Harry <u>wouldn't</u> hear of it. He encouraged this woman to <b><u>STAY</u> <u>STRONG</u>!</b> and hang in there, scooped up his purchases and ran the hell out of there.<b> </b>Shopping for clothes was <u>less</u> complicated. As a <u>rule</u>, Harry didn't fundamentally believe in fashion and didn't understand why others would. From his viewpoint with the press, the writers went crazy with Harry's clothes.<b> </b> </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRKvnX3kT-iECVmXfuz5dfwVjruwjLiv3YkzKGVyWEHIhth1Bz8ZCTsMuvBCW_8NmOtD-AIGH4ztJVD1ZILUCiWidTcGYHCZdv3-5G6Ngn0N5m3kMn5In__5HlK21HNmzwFv6gtLCgSgPkGHBbXYJpGiN3_u37aYD12sXj4KX-LJ2hCZ-hTVN5ImIVGVl/s216/TJMaxx-Logo.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="207" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRKvnX3kT-iECVmXfuz5dfwVjruwjLiv3YkzKGVyWEHIhth1Bz8ZCTsMuvBCW_8NmOtD-AIGH4ztJVD1ZILUCiWidTcGYHCZdv3-5G6Ngn0N5m3kMn5In__5HlK21HNmzwFv6gtLCgSgPkGHBbXYJpGiN3_u37aYD12sXj4KX-LJ2hCZ-hTVN5ImIVGVl/w192-h200/TJMaxx-Logo.png" width="192" /></a></div>Each year, Harry received an allowance for clothing <u>strictly</u> for funeral wear. For daily attire, Harry hit up <u style="font-style: italic;">T.J. Maxx</u>. He was fond of their once-a-year sale, when things were marked down. Harry had a system. Arrive 15 minutes prior to closing. Grab a bucket. Head to the <u>top</u> floor. Begin systematically rummaging the racks. If Harry found something of <u>worth</u>, he measured himself with the clothes in front of a mirror. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">cared</u> about the substance/style, and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> went near a changing room. If it looked nice, and it was comfortable, Harry bought it. If Harry was on the fence about it, he'd ask someone. At closing time, they'd run out with 2 giant bags, feeling triumphant. The press would say these words. <u>But</u>, <u>at</u> <u>least</u>, Harry wouldn't have to think about clothes for 6 months.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPfZmAiRX2EQb5v0LUdnS-wHtityTklvE2pZYdQuCtRYR4QXKSBR0z2zzm3j-4wWfxIB5lKKuXF1YQY38IBpmGkEFrRcHiVkN_nGzqZThOnxDCOkSFL8m80gshImKjJ9Tht3qzEPZ_9bgdcpwHglC5mjhaqLlJ7tYfAZtJm4nz7MDfyjy0GHNXlWRDcuu/s300/friends-logo-9047BF936E-seeklogo.com.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="300" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPfZmAiRX2EQb5v0LUdnS-wHtityTklvE2pZYdQuCtRYR4QXKSBR0z2zzm3j-4wWfxIB5lKKuXF1YQY38IBpmGkEFrRcHiVkN_nGzqZThOnxDCOkSFL8m80gshImKjJ9Tht3qzEPZ_9bgdcpwHglC5mjhaqLlJ7tYfAZtJm4nz7MDfyjy0GHNXlWRDcuu/w200-h125/friends-logo-9047BF936E-seeklogo.com.png" width="200" /></a></div>Other than the occasional shopping, Harry <u>stopped</u> going out in 2015. Stopped <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u>. No dinners. No house parties. No clubbing. <u>Nothing</u>. Every night, Harry would go <u>straight</u> home, eat over the sink, then catch-up on his<u> favorite</u> show, <u style="font-style: italic;">Friends</u>, as background noise. Charles' chef would load/stock Harry's fridge and freezer. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> to not have to venture out to the market as much . . though some foods would remind him of the Army.</div><div><br /></div><div>After dinner, Harry would smoke a joint, trying to make sure the smoke didn't waft into his neighbors. Then Harry would turn in early. Solitary life. He felt <u>lonely</u>; but <u>lonely</u> was better than <u style="font-style: italic;">panicky</u>. Harry was trying to find remedies that would healthfully <u>ease</u> his <u style="font-style: italic;">panic</u>, until he would come up with something better and felt on more solid ground, Harry went to this vice: <u>Avoidance</u>. Harry was agoraphobic. Which was <u>nearly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">impossible</u> given Harry's public role. After one speech, which <u>couldn't</u> be avoided or cancelled, during which Harry nearly fainted, William approached his brother, laughing. Harry couldn't fathom his reaction. William, of all people; who'd been <u>there</u> and <u>present</u> for Harry's first <u style="font-style: italic;">panic</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">attack</u> with Kate. William seen his brother <span style="color: red;">red</span>-faced and sweating. William asked his brother if he was okay? <u>No</u>, he wasn't. </div><div><br /></div><div>They were on a trip of <u>several</u> hours and every few miles, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> his brother to <u>stop</u> the car and pull over so Harry could jump out to catch his breath. All of this was on the verge of a public campaign to raise awareness around mental health. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfTLU-XSg7A_q7sn1oo1tYPx33dkt3CeTic5DddFU5Y5fi53baeG_xsYngkRtyH4YcORGXUvpSw4Hziw1WsH6H0uxQFMQuC_LnZvzIkEQoeGKiwhi6cWxna2x6WQqpbJbPH6d_2qyFVdyepHNSjCs2nH-3X3B6A640Ubr0-gYz2VJ5UILXMlc-DJHS8L_/s1200/Prince-Harry.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfTLU-XSg7A_q7sn1oo1tYPx33dkt3CeTic5DddFU5Y5fi53baeG_xsYngkRtyH4YcORGXUvpSw4Hziw1WsH6H0uxQFMQuC_LnZvzIkEQoeGKiwhi6cWxna2x6WQqpbJbPH6d_2qyFVdyepHNSjCs2nH-3X3B6A640Ubr0-gYz2VJ5UILXMlc-DJHS8L_/s320/Prince-Harry.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry went to East London, to <u style="font-style: italic;">Mildmay Mission Hospital</u>, to commemorate the 150TH anniversary and recent renovations. Harry's mother once paid the place a famous visit. Diana held the hand of a man who was H.I.V. positive, and thereby <u>changing</u> <u>the</u> <u>world</u>. H.I.V. was <u>NOT</u> leprosy, that it wasn't a cure. Diana <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> that the disease didn't disqualify people from love or dignity. Harry learned that his mother's <u style="font-weight: bold;">FAMOUS</u> visit was <u style="font-weight: bold;">actually</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u>. Diana would slip in/out of the hospital ward <u>all</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u> media <u>whatsoever</u>. Diana would drop-in, make a few people feel better, then head home. Patients would regale moments with Diana with him and express <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATITUDE</u> to Harry.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbimLIU-GBK1_ycG_tuff4-SpIk6l--93omLKweinN-ZQ_tp-yxB_tINiow8gpVSir3nc2ARvgVrFQwmZ24EnPTwDNR8PtgOmOX9mC2ZrDy89iOf_VLlaj1kDCJk2v30StkLWnGFuPhTg1rTvLhhnRdc6b4-7Zg7wmg5I5dCkq-btLbRM9yBV4l_VPdWd/s2000/prince-harry-therapy-2.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbimLIU-GBK1_ycG_tuff4-SpIk6l--93omLKweinN-ZQ_tp-yxB_tINiow8gpVSir3nc2ARvgVrFQwmZ24EnPTwDNR8PtgOmOX9mC2ZrDy89iOf_VLlaj1kDCJk2v30StkLWnGFuPhTg1rTvLhhnRdc6b4-7Zg7wmg5I5dCkq-btLbRM9yBV4l_VPdWd/s320/prince-harry-therapy-2.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry had visited Botswana; and spent a few days with his buddies. He craved their company. To sit with his head in the accompaniment of their laps, and feel <u>safe</u>. Feeling <u>home</u> at the <u style="font-weight: bold;">end</u> of 2015. Taking his buddies into his <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidence</u>; telling them about his battles with <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</u>. They were by a campfire where these conversations took place. Harry confided to them that a few things were working. So. . . . .there was <u>hope</u>! For instance, therapy. Harry had taken up William's suggestion, and while Harry hadn't found one compatible to his liking, simply speaking to a few <u>opened</u> Harry's mind to possibilities. One therapist off-handedly commented that Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">clearly</u> suffering from P.T.S.D.; and <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> rang a bell. It lit a fire under Harry's ass. Moving him in the <u>right</u> direction. Another thing that seemed to work was meditation. Meditation <u>quieted</u> his racing mind, down to a degree of <u>calm</u>. Harry isn't one for prayer. Nature was his higher power; but in his <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> moments, Harry would <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAVE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> shut his eyes and <u>be</u> <u>still</u>. Now and then, Harry felt the presence for an answer. </div><div><br /></div><div>Psychedelics did Harry some good <u>overall</u>. He experimented with them over the years, for <u>fun</u>, but <u style="font-weight: bold;">now</u> he'd begin to use them theraputically, medicinally. They didn't <u>exactly</u> permit Harry to escape <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> for a while, they allowed him to <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">redefine</i> it. Under these circumstances of their influence, Harry was able to let go of <u style="font-weight: bold;">rigid</u> pre-concepts, to <u>see</u> there was another world <u>beyond</u> Harry's <u style="font-weight: bold;">heavily</u> filtered senses, a world that was <u>equally</u> real & beautiful. A world that was <b><u>ONLY</u> <u>TRUTH</u>!</b> After the psychedelics wore off; Harry's memory of <u>that</u> world remained that <i>This was not all there is</i>. All the great seers and philosophers say our daily life is an illusion. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> found a fair amount of <u>truth</u>in that statement. It <u>reassured</u> him, after a <u>hint</u> of a mushroom or ayauasca, to experience it himself.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2iw5HVv0izBOVuabYJenXsd30lgQYY8N3NvvRF4UthXLzng97iYQOCs3x9dpTcBcfVDSP7_qSaq57Mwf3OB27DYeVI_qqGoXGpfCiY9tZd15DiKiZWs5C4K8p_ucc8_ETJr_qD0_JVIa30IAVK3sbLc8DzLWgoXKFxMP9v9K3yZl03aLjcFYRYMi6k43X/s2000/Prince-William-Prince-Harry-Prince-Harry-Book.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1329" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2iw5HVv0izBOVuabYJenXsd30lgQYY8N3NvvRF4UthXLzng97iYQOCs3x9dpTcBcfVDSP7_qSaq57Mwf3OB27DYeVI_qqGoXGpfCiY9tZd15DiKiZWs5C4K8p_ucc8_ETJr_qD0_JVIa30IAVK3sbLc8DzLWgoXKFxMP9v9K3yZl03aLjcFYRYMi6k43X/s320/Prince-William-Prince-Harry-Prince-Harry-Book.webp" width="320" /></a></div>The only remedy that <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> <u>effectively</u> was work. Helping others and doing some good in the world. Looking onward than in. <u>That</u> was the path. There were causes <u>closer</u> to his heart. But, he wanted to dig <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeper</u>. Over the years, Harry had spoken to various helicopter pilots, veterinary surgeons, rangers and informed him of a War On. A war-on? Sign him up. One small problem: William; being the Heir, had <u>TOP</u> dibs, and in his power to veto <u>Harry's</u> thing. And William had <u>every</u> intention to flex being big brother. The boys had brotherly fights about it. <u>Almost</u> coming to blows in front of their <u>shared</u> buddies. One of them suggested that both boys <u>shared</u> the princely responsibilities; but William had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> pissy fit. </div><div><br /></div><div>William's pissyness was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">obvious</u>. He cared <u>less</u> about <u>finding</u> his <u style="font-weight: bold;">purpose</u> or <u style="font-weight: bold;">passion</u> than winning above Harry. Over <u>several</u> more <u style="color: red;">heated</u> conversations, it came out from William, that when Harry went to the <u style="font-style: italic;">North Pole</u>. William was <u>resentful</u>. He was slighted that he wasn't the one invited. At the <u>same</u> time, William stated that he'd step aside, gallantly, also that he'd <u>permitted</u> Harry to go, indeed permitted his work with wounded soldiers. Harry vented to his buddies that he'd <u>finally</u> seen his path, that he'd hit upon what filled the void in his heart left by the military. William was blocking his way. With his buddies' encouragement, Harry embarked on a 4-month fact-finding trip, to educate himself on the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> of the war.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry had returned to America with his buddies in January 2016. They were thrown a welcoming party, with a small group of people. Typical Brit, Harry asked for a G/T (<i>Gin & Tonic</i>). After his friends harangued him to have a <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> drink, they thrust a tequila on him. Harry was <u>familiar</u> with tequila. Mostly Club Tequila. Late Tequila. What Harry was offered was a <u>PROPER</u> tequila. High-Falutin' stuff. Harry was being schooled into the many ways of consumption. He tried them all <u>ALL</u>! <u>Every</u> drop, and he began to feel <u>real</u> good. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Loving</u> the drinks. It was a strange time in the way of the world. The day of the Iraqi war announcement from politics; Harry floated on a <span style="color: #ea9999;">pink cloud</span> of tequila fumes. More like <u>piloted</u> the <span style="color: #f4cccc;">pink cloud</span>, and after he landed it - Harry found it <u>miraculous</u> that he woke up with <u>NO</u> hangover. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJuEORtkQlCiclAkX0PW6XZmcddtve9_zTKde17u_R4-wVdRAGKNcC65N0ekvWJ9q3yUwRBXwBd1tOj-srXno6_iZY5lp7DuhIOdbZY0fpPGisvu1K6nmWF_XAyMzQxi5wddpHbUM43faMAqJO0jCMMvePMnnaN71I7LcEn1Rk080wKKt7_TAMEgAMI6R/s1600/friends-desktop-8xj0f0cyw89iv9vt.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJuEORtkQlCiclAkX0PW6XZmcddtve9_zTKde17u_R4-wVdRAGKNcC65N0ekvWJ9q3yUwRBXwBd1tOj-srXno6_iZY5lp7DuhIOdbZY0fpPGisvu1K6nmWF_XAyMzQxi5wddpHbUM43faMAqJO0jCMMvePMnnaN71I7LcEn1Rk080wKKt7_TAMEgAMI6R/s320/friends-desktop-8xj0f0cyw89iv9vt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The next day, or the day after, they moved for some reason. They went from a friend's home of a friend's girlfriend to the home of Courtney Cox. She was traveling on a job, and didn't mind if they crashed at her place. No complaints from Harry. As a <u style="font-style: italic;">Friends</u> fanatic, the idea of staying at Monica's was <u>highly</u> appealing. And amusing. But then. . .Courtney showed up. Harry was <u>truly</u> confused. Courtney didn't mind or care. There was <u>plenty</u> of room. Great. But, Harry was confused. Courtney was Monica and Harry was Chandler. Soon after arriving home, Courtney invited more people over. Another party began. Among those in attendance, Harry seen someone familiar. He knew this person. . .just couldn't identify them. It soon <u>HIT</u> him. <u>Batman</u>. By this time, Harry was into his 3rd or 4th tequila; so he was having trouble processing what was happening. Harry went back to the actor for conformation of identity. FUCK <u>YES</u>! <i><u>Batman:Logo</u></i> movie. Harry was fanning out and just couldn't stop.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then, to get rid of Harry, this friend lost Harry to the fridge, to which he extracted a beverage. Withe door still opened, they spotted chocolate mushrooms. They were for everyone. So, Harry and his friends helped themselves and endulged to the chocolate & tequila. They weren't exactly the hosts' thing. Then, this guy sent these guys into the <u style="font-style: italic;">Batcave</u>. They took themselves outside, sat by a fire pit and waited. Harry remembers needing to use the loo after awhile. It was hard to navigate the house. But, Harry found his way. Inspecting the bathroom. After being agape for a minute due to these amenities, Harry took a piss. He finished and flushed. He turned back to a silver bin, and threw away his cigarette. Harry went, left the bathroom - giggling, and walked into his friend. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wait</u> to share in his joy of his newfound wonderment of the silver bin. Harry left his friend in the bathroom to get another tequila. Due to what was in Harry's system, one seen a dragon's lair that <u style="font-weight: bold;">FREAKED</u> them out. Harry was <u>fucking</u> sorry. His delight had been his friend's hell. </div><div><br /></div><div>The next day consisted of another <u>in</u> <u>house</u> party. <u>More</u> tequila. <u>More</u> names yelled at him. They got around to playing games, a <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Charades</i>-type of game. Someone handed Harry a joint. He took a hit while adoring the night sky. Soon, it felt like these parties ran into each other. It was night. Harry walked down some stairs to a party throwers' beachfront. He stood with his feet in the ocean; watching the surf go back/forth for what felt like ages. He soon directed his attention <u>directly</u> to the moon. Claiming the moon was speaking to him. The <u>same</u> way he felt with the toilet. The message Harry "<i><u>heard</u></i>" was of a good year ahead. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">good</u> <u>big</u> year ahead was promised.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was <u>almost</u> the age Charles was when he had gotten married, and Charles was considered a late bloomer. Harry was <u>staring</u> 32 in the face. Harry, in his state, <u>pleaded</u> to the night sky for a change in his <u>future</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAMf-DO_Y_MHa-hFaMxeZ29b_WBH-8pko3Rojwfdr5QpNVid8IUuv-ydKZAvozn2Yc4plTawtk3ooLDjYS_ye7oewe0qVdjgYXZwpNnmExz2kR5WTc3rnVC678hJntH25AkY_HYO5MbCGBfMJGPk_WKE9ABlPb_a5IK4YhFCVst-BmWq1iFPaB49SAuj6/s300/instagram-171762080.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="297" data-original-width="300" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUAMf-DO_Y_MHa-hFaMxeZ29b_WBH-8pko3Rojwfdr5QpNVid8IUuv-ydKZAvozn2Yc4plTawtk3ooLDjYS_ye7oewe0qVdjgYXZwpNnmExz2kR5WTc3rnVC678hJntH25AkY_HYO5MbCGBfMJGPk_WKE9ABlPb_a5IK4YhFCVst-BmWq1iFPaB49SAuj6/w200-h198/instagram-171762080.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Harry was sitting around <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u> scrolling through <u style="font-style: italic;">Instagram</u>. In his feed, Harry seen his friend, Violet. And another young lady. They were playing with filler apps. Harry <u>took</u> <u>notice</u> of the beauty behind the filter. Making him <u>sit-up</u> <u>straight</u>. Harry was in <u>absolute</u> <u>awe</u>. He could <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> put the phone down. After watching the video <u>several</u> <u>times</u>, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> himself to put the phone down. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> that Harry has seen in his <u>lifetime</u>, what the <u>world</u> had shown him; this woman <u style="font-weight: bold;">stopped</u> him <u style="font-weight: bold;">dead</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tracks</u>. He had <u>never</u> seen anyone <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> beautiful. It was a feeling/sense that Harry was gotten. <i style="font-weight: bold;">This was/is no better feeling for a man to have been gotten by the beauty of another</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry had just returned from a trip with Charles, William & Kate to France. harry had read a <u style="font-weight: bold;">haunting</u> poem: <u style="font-style: italic;">Before Action</u>. It was published by a soldier 2 days prior to his demise in action. Reading it <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOUD</u>; it <u>changed</u> Harry's perspective. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to <b><u>LIVE</u>!</b> It <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shook</u>/<u style="font-weight: bold;">rocked</u> Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">core</u>. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">staggering</u> revelation for him. There was <u>such</u> <u>an</u> <u>energy</u> to this young lady, a wild joy and playfulness. Harry seen <u>pure</u> and <u>true</u> beauty. <u>Confident</u>. Free. She had the belief that life was one grand gesture. Harry seen her eyes luminate. He thought it would be a journey to join her. Harry picked all that up from her angelic face. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> this lady was <u>one</u> for him. <u>This</u> <u>one</u>. Harry asked his other friends. . . . <b><i>Who. . . in. . . the. . .hell. . .is. . .this. . . woman</i>?</b> She replied right away; unaware of others' interest in her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry wondered who she was? An actress. From the TV show <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>. This woman was in London for a tennis match. Violet was there for a fitting from <u style="font-style: italic;">Ralph Lauren</u>. She offered to connect harry with this actress from <u style="font-style: italic;">Instagram</u>. She asked if she could pass along Harry's handle info? <i>Of course</i>. It was July 1ST. Harry was due to leave London the next morning, heading to a sailing race on a yacht. Just as Harry was stuffing the last few of his things into an overnight bag, he glanced at his phone. A message from <u style="font-style: italic;">Instagram</u>. From the American woman. Information was given from Violet complimenting Harry's <u style="font-style: italic;">Instagram</u>. They had <u>inheritantly</u> studied each other's social media. </div><div><br /></div><div>They shared thoughts on various topics. Eventually, they exchanged phone numbers, and migrated the conversation to text, going late into the night. In the morning, Harry moved from <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u> to the car, <u>without</u> a pause in the texting conversation. He texted her throughout the events of the day. Harry sat on a bed texting like a teenager until dinner with guests. Then, after dessert, , Harry resumed the texting. He couldn't type fast enough. His thumbs were cramping. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was <u>so</u> <u>much</u> to say. They had <u>so</u> <u>much</u> in common, though they had different backgrounds/worlds.</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>She was American, He was British</li><li>She was highly educated, Harry <u>by</u> <u>choice</u> was <u>not</u></li><li>She was free as a bird, Harry was trapped in a royal cage.</li></ul><u>None</u> of these differences felt disqualifying or important. On the contrary, it was organically bonding. Energetically. But then, came the contradictions one <u>mentally</u> puts upon themselves through. It occurred to Harry how <u>uncanny</u>, how <u>surreal</u>, how <u>bizarre</u> that this marathon conversation should have begun on July 1, 2016. Harry's mother's 55TH birthday.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWnmJcXk49vmDgNOGxEfrqNRXEWICmLybXYwexyNP1oKviqPtR6YlIw-K0oTlhJdsnvMVPaX-RMi39QlyuEMNskA68a4WFkl797igGN-yo5qa9cAP1rUrNoxVjD75_PNh6lnutCun-zkhl9RvVrxioYPM0PBPXCFtQ4v8H6NeBi_IyhV1wC4hcPMa1QIz/s2260/meghan-markle-suits-premiere.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1700" data-original-width="2260" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWnmJcXk49vmDgNOGxEfrqNRXEWICmLybXYwexyNP1oKviqPtR6YlIw-K0oTlhJdsnvMVPaX-RMi39QlyuEMNskA68a4WFkl797igGN-yo5qa9cAP1rUrNoxVjD75_PNh6lnutCun-zkhl9RvVrxioYPM0PBPXCFtQ4v8H6NeBi_IyhV1wC4hcPMa1QIz/s320/meghan-markle-suits-premiere.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meghan Markle</td></tr></tbody></table>Late into the night, while waiting for her next text, Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">GOOGLE</u>'d this American woman. Hoping she was doing the same. Maybe not. Before turning out the light, Harry asked how long she was staying in London. <u>DAMN</u>! She was leaving soon. She had to get to Canada to resume her show. Harry asked if he could see her again before she left. He waited <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiously</u> for a response. She agreed. Where to meet? Harry's living quarters. At first, she was put off. He <u>didn't</u> mean it the way it sounded. She didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">realize</u> the trouble Harry goes through <u>publicly</u>. Reluctantly to go into <u style="font-weight: bold;">detail</u>. Harry didn't do a good job trying to explain. So, she suggested an alternative. <u>Her</u> place in London. She would reserve a table in a quiet room. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> else would be around. The table would be under <u>her</u> name: Meghan Markle. </div><div><br /></div><div>After texting throughout the night, into the hours til dawn, Harry groaned when the alarm rang. While grimacing, the days events were a distraction from his phone. Harry <u>needed</u> the distraction. To pace himself. A boat race was just the ticket. Harry <u>never</u> feared death before, and now he found himself <u>hoping</u> he didn't drown prior to his date. Then another <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u> took place. The <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u> of an onboard bathroom. Harry <u>held</u> <u>it</u> for <u>as</u> <u>long</u> <u>as</u> he <u>could</u>. Harry swung his body over the side, into the airy sea. . .and still couldn't piss, mainly thanks to stage freight. The whole crew on-looking. Finally, Harry returned to his post, and sheepishly pissed his pants. Their boat race won their class, coming in 2ND overall. Harry's <u>only</u> concern was jumping into the water, washing off the piss from his pants and then <u>racing</u> back to London, where a <u style="font-weight: bold;">bigger</u> race lie ahead. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a <u>horrendous</u> Sunday night; with a <u>nightmare</u> of traffic. Harry ran into <u>every</u> conceivable obstacle along the way. Again-and-again Harry's bodyguards , along with himself, would come to a full stop in the road and <u>just</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">sit</u>. Groaning, sweating, mentally shouting at the mass of <u>un</u>moving traffic. Finally, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u> avoided. Harry made the dreaded call of lateness. Traffic lateness that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">unavoidable</u>. Harry apologized <u>profusely</u>. Her reply was O.K. He <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> she would leave him. As they inched towards the restaurant, Harry texted another apology. They were moving, but slowly. He was jammed with <u>no</u> <u>way</u> <u>out</u>. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> around this <u>stucky</u> situation.</div><div><br /></div><div>Texting wasn't the way Harry wanted to convey it, however. So he just. . .didn't answer. Which was irritating for Meghan. <u>Finally</u>. Harry arrived. <span style="color: red;">Red</span>-cheeked, puffy, sweating, 30 minutes late, he ran into the restaurant, into the quiet room, and found her at a small sitting area. She looked up and smiled. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">profusely</u> apologized. He settled in to the sofa she was sitting at, apologizing again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was forgiven. Meghan was having an I.P.A. beer. Harry asked for a <u style="font-style: italic;">Peroni</u>. He didn't want a beer, but it seemed easier. They both <u>took</u> <u>in</u> the silence. Harry didn't know shit about clothes, but he <u>knew</u> she was chic. She was heart-attacked beautiful. Harry was trying to <u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> her beauty. He was trying to process this, <u style="font-weight: bold;">struggling</u> to understand what was happening to his circulatory & <i>nervous</i> system(s). Harry's brain shut down due to the beauty before him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Everything</u> from then on became a challenge. Meghan filled the gap with Harry's <u>silence</u>. Acting was Meghan's main job,what she was known for , but Meghan had <u>several</u> careers. She had a <u>very</u> busy C.V. All part of her plan. To help people do good and be free.</div><div><br /></div><div>The conversation began to flow. The initial awkwardness was gone. They both felt the special thrill when there's <u>too</u> much to say and no time to say it. Before they knew it, their time was <u>up</u>! Meghan had dinner plans. If Harry hadn't been late for dinner, they'd still have time. Harry cursed himself..(<i>Fuck Me</i>!) After a brief goodbye, Harry took care of the bill. Soon after, she was <u>gone</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBg-NgJlVamYby2tPGwFke7nGPUtqHtiVdpKWAzS2Wv5i7oW6Hg13bmVgXvbjK9VZI81-u7FDOkHFJNwKMvXZ0zAp6-s8IlqbcH_rSYrllQR0r8Bf8FRZzj3gqjLw18DdR2Lh7gMHLqN7SV57IGJtwcmcinnabUQsw87xUydsfp-HL5rCtgwXJoEBfSzh/s1482/MV5BOTgxMDQwMDk0OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNjU5OTg2NDE@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1482" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBg-NgJlVamYby2tPGwFke7nGPUtqHtiVdpKWAzS2Wv5i7oW6Hg13bmVgXvbjK9VZI81-u7FDOkHFJNwKMvXZ0zAp6-s8IlqbcH_rSYrllQR0r8Bf8FRZzj3gqjLw18DdR2Lh7gMHLqN7SV57IGJtwcmcinnabUQsw87xUydsfp-HL5rCtgwXJoEBfSzh/w135-h200/MV5BOTgxMDQwMDk0OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNjU5OTg2NDE@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>Harry made plans with a buddy after. He called him, told him he was on his way. Harry arrived 30-minutes later. His buddy took one look at Harry's face and wondered <i>What Happened</i>? Harry tried to hold off telling him until he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> say something and relieve his burden. Harry recounted the <u>entire</u> date. His end result was wondering what to do? Out came the tequila. Out came the weed. They drank & smoked whilst watching <u style="font-style: italic;">Inside Out</u>. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">perfect</u> choice for Harry's state of being <u>right</u> <u>then</u>. Harry soon became <u>peacefully</u> numb with <u style="font-weight: bold;">really good</u> weed. Soon after, Harry's phone rang. <u style="font-style: italic;">Oh</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Shit</u>! He held it up to his buddy. It was Meghan. She was <u>actually</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTiming</u>. Harry seen Meghan's <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> beauty in that call. They made plans to meet again. 4TH Of July. Back at <u style="font-style: italic;">SoHo House</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meghan had spent the day at <u style="font-style: italic;">Wimbledon</u> supporting/cheering on her friend, Serena Williams., from Serena's tennis box. Meghan texted Harry after the final set as she raced back to her hotel, texting Harry at various times. This time Harry was <u>proud</u> of himself for being <u>prompt</u> and <u>ready</u>! Meghan walked in and was all aglow. Harry arrived with a pink box of cupcakes in tow. <span style="color: red;">Red</span>, White & <span style="color: #2b00fe;">Blue</span> design. In honor of Independence Day. Meghan appreciated the gesture. Their waitress from Date One appeared. <u>Happy</u> to see a Date Two. She could <u>tell</u> something was happening between Harry and Meghan. After bringing them a round of drinks, they disappeared and didn't return for a long time. When she did, they were in the middle of a kiss. Not their first.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-e4X-EiAtr064fRo2Y-FGw8rpGwKlXp1vBRF2rTWK2lZhJ6EOvjX_XtkafDpRSNqoiaj2OPoma57X7U9aEe7_zjuQS41YpZp2EnM7YpRD0RIbHn2vWQQ-CzG59PmfpLola2JQBW1Ews2-L7f3l1NXRJdiclaOlbvC1pzQVhzUdL9qUozc-vqX2Ybi-Igc/s1600/s-l1600.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1043" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-e4X-EiAtr064fRo2Y-FGw8rpGwKlXp1vBRF2rTWK2lZhJ6EOvjX_XtkafDpRSNqoiaj2OPoma57X7U9aEe7_zjuQS41YpZp2EnM7YpRD0RIbHn2vWQQ-CzG59PmfpLola2JQBW1Ews2-L7f3l1NXRJdiclaOlbvC1pzQVhzUdL9qUozc-vqX2Ybi-Igc/w131-h200/s-l1600.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>Again the conversation flowed. Burgers came/went going uneaten. Harry felt the sense that he was ending one half of his life coming to a close. As the night came to a close, they had a frank discussion. There was <u>NO</u> way around it: Where was this relationship headed? Surely in the era of summer, they could find one spot of time. Meghan had been into the <u>GREAT</u> book: <u style="font-style: italic;">Eat, Pray, Love</u>. Since Harry was <u>not</u> big on books; he had <u>NO</u> <u>IDEA</u> of the subject. He felt intimidated. Meghan was the <u>complete</u> opposite of Harry. She read. She was cultured. Meghan was just on her way to a trip with girlfriends. They both checked their phones. Harry found <u>one</u> <u>small</u> <u>window</u>. A castmate advised Meghan to not be <u>so</u> <u>structured</u> on her <u style="font-style: italic;">Eat, Pray, Love</u> journey. Keep one week open and leave room for magic. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry seen a doable week. Come to find out that it was the <u>same</u> week. Harry suggested they spend the same week in Botswana. Harry gave her his <u>best</u> pitch. <i>The birthplace of all mankind</i>. If Meghan was <u>truly</u> interested; she would join the magic and experience it with him. <u>Everywhere</u>. The next time Harry seen her, Meghan looked like perfection. More beautiful than <u style="font-style: italic;">Instagram</u>. As Harry arrived on-location, he handed Meghan a chicken salad sandwich wrapped in cling-wrap. Harry felt like a dumbass wishing he'd brought more. They hugged. It was awkward, not because of the sandwich, but due to <u>unavoidable</u> suspense. They kept communication through social media countless times since their first few dates; but they were/felt <u>new</u> and different. And a bit strange.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meghan joined Harry and his crew into a 3-bench truck and set off. <u>Straight</u> into the sunset. To make time go by faster on this <u>hours</u> long ride, Harry pointed out every flower, plant, bird. After a <u>respectful</u> time period, Harry joined in her hand. When the road got flatter, Harry ventured a kiss. Just as they <u>both</u> remembered. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry's bodyguards pretended <u>not</u> to <u>notice</u>. As they furthered their journey, they saw a plethora of animals along the way. They started down a firebreak road and the birds were going crazy; which sent a <i>shiver</i> down Harry's spine. Shortly before dusk, they arrived at a small satellite camp their friends had set up. Harry carried their bags to a ball tent beside a huge sausage tree. They were on the edge of a big forest, looking down a gentle slope to the river, and beyond. Meghan - whom Harry had now shortened her name to M. or Meg - was stunned in the scenery. She had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> seen <u>anything</u> as beautiful. A world <u>before</u> the world was made.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Meghan opened her suitcase, he <i><u>thought</u></i> it would be <u>filled</u> with female B.S. Only to find out Harry was American stereotyping. Already feeling like shit for doing that, to Harry's <u style="font-style: italic;">shock</u> and delight, he viewed a sight to see, other than Meghan, a <u>few</u> essentials to get by. Shorts, ripped jeans, snacks, and a yoga mat. They sat in canvas chairs watching the sunset and moon rise. Harry whipped up cocktails. They told stories, laughed a lot, and their friends cooked them a <u>lovely</u> dinner. They ate and sat around the stars. At bedtime, Harry escorted Meghan to the tent. They lay down inside, on their backs <u style="font-weight: bold;">being</u> in the moment. With separate beds, Harry & Meghan pushed them together, laying shoulder-to-shoulder. They stared at the roof, listening and watching the night sky. Then a <u>loud</u> munching sound <u style="font-weight: bold;">bolted</u> Meghan <u>upright</u>. It was an elephant eating <u>peacefully</u> from the shrubs around them. Soon after, they heard the <u>LOUD</u> roar of lions. A <u style="font-style: italic;">frightful</u> Meghan lay her head on Harry's chest. She <u>trusted</u> him to <u>keep</u> her <u>safe</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry had awakened early just before dawn, unzipped the tent <u>quietly</u>, tiptoed out. Harry took in the <u>quiet</u> of the world. As the sun came up, Harry gave <u>gratitude</u> for the day, then walked down to the main tent for a piece of toast. When he returned, he found Meghan stretching out for yoga beside the river. When she finished, she <u>noticed</u> a <u>ready</u> breakfast. After they ate, Meghan awaited what was in-store. Harry's surprises. Beginning with a morning drive. They came upon a large group of giraffes. They nodded good morning. Not everyone was so friendly. Strolling by a vast watering hole, they saw a cloud of dust up ahead. They were confronted by a grumpy warthog. He retreated when they stood their ground.</div><div><br /></div><div>They soon went for a swim off the river, keeping their distance from the animals. Harry told her the crocs' water was the <u>purest</u> in the world, because it was <u>all</u> filtered by the papayrus. The anniversary was only weeks away. At dusk, they lay across the bonnet of the truck, watching the sky. When the bats came out, they ventured to find their friends. They turned on music, laughed, talked, sang and ate dinner around the fire. Meghan detailed bits/pieces of her life from this point therein. From personal to professional. In her free time, Meghan did philanthropic work. Her base was women's issues.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-iGW8Cx9kyq3jtxF8hZ5hnQgt-Gh44l9L5R_hfj7FwvmQbDjel5FaOIJKlv0dgYLvRsL6fivv6RY1_kPHCdxb83w3GleG_EWE5sbPb74CATS9slqG7n5SXjw-mOOmIRHGGnoh_bzzfOEdpMh5KH7EhgsEJV8EaJyKDYSHNwIqvbA3xn1abo91IaifdIr/s966/meghan-markle-harry-hold-hands-today-171201-06.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="966" data-original-width="760" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_-iGW8Cx9kyq3jtxF8hZ5hnQgt-Gh44l9L5R_hfj7FwvmQbDjel5FaOIJKlv0dgYLvRsL6fivv6RY1_kPHCdxb83w3GleG_EWE5sbPb74CATS9slqG7n5SXjw-mOOmIRHGGnoh_bzzfOEdpMh5KH7EhgsEJV8EaJyKDYSHNwIqvbA3xn1abo91IaifdIr/s320/meghan-markle-harry-hold-hands-today-171201-06.webp" width="252" /></a></div>Harry was <u>fascinated</u>. Hanging on to <u>every</u> word and <u style="font-weight: bold;">intently</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">listening</u>, while in the background Harry heard a faint heartbeat. His <u>inner</u> voice was telling him that Meghan was <u>ABSOLUTELY</u> <u>PERFECT</u>! <u>PERFECT</u>! Friends often mentioned Harry's Jekyll-and-Hyde existence. Harry'd never been able to synthesize the 2, and it bothered both of them. But with Meghan, Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">thought</u> he could be Happy Harry all the time. By this point, Meghan had taken to calling him <u>Haz</u>. <u>Every</u> <u>moment</u> of that week was a revelation and a blessing. <u>Every</u> <u>minute</u> they dreaded saying goodbye. There was <u>no</u> <u>way</u> around it: Life drew them in other directions. As they said goodbye, Meghan began to cry. Friends promised to look after and take care of her. There was one last wave. Goodbye. . . For now. It broke their hearts to depart. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry and his crew of boys met up together in Maun. They loaded 3-silver flat-bottomed boats and set off. Days of floating, drifting, fishing & dancing. In the evenings, they got <u>loud</u> and naughty. Harry drank brush cocktails, African beer, and ingested "<i>certain</i>" chemicals. Harry <u>learned</u> a lesson when being a dumbass with your boys can cost you your phone. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">immense</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">gratitude</u> to hear from Meghan. Harry felt <u>enormous</u> pressure to write his next letter to her. A paralyzing case of writer's block. He just couldn't find the words to express his excitement, his contemptment, his longing. Harry's hopes.</div><div><br /></div><div>By means of improvisation, and sheer determination, Harry managed <u>somehow</u>, throughout this boys trip, to stay in <u>constant</u> contact. When Harry returned to Britain, he felt a <u>huge</u> sense of accomplishment. Harry didn't let <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> stop him. In this conversation, Harry wondered, in this environment, if he had found <u>THE</u> <u>ONE</u>! Meghan was a shining exception to <u>ALL</u> rules. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> each other. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> Harry. It might've been rash or illogical, but its <u>true</u>. For the <u>first</u> time, Harry felt he was living in <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Through a frenzy of texting and <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTiming</u>, Harry and Meghan were thousands of miles apart; but they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <u>apart</u>. Harry would wake-up to a text. <u>Instantly</u> reply. Keeping communication through chats and texts. And it still <u>wasn't</u> enough. They were <u>desperate</u> to see each other again. They circled a day in August. 10 Days from their text meeting. They agreed it would be best if Meghan went to London. On the big day, just after her arrival, she called as she was walking to her room at <u style="font-style: italic;">SoHo House</u>. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">occupied</u> with his Uncle Charles at <u style="font-style: italic;">Althorp</u>. He had to explain later. They didn't get <u>into</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> yet. </div><div> </div><div>Harry was <u>sure</u> Meghan hadn't <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u>'d him due to her love of questions. She knew <u>nothing</u>. It was refreshing. He seen it as a first step in surviving royalty. He <u>loved</u> that Meghan was an empty slate with royalty; rather than misinformation. After William & Harry lay flowers on their mom's grave, Harry nonchalantly phoned Meg <u>without</u> outing their relationship to his brother. A friend agreed to usher Harry in through <u style="font-style: italic;">SoHo House</u>. When he finally reached the door, Harry knocked and suspended breathing while he waited. The door flew open. Her smile awaited him. Meghan pulled Harry inside and thanked her friend in one fluid notion, then slammed the door before others caught on. <u>No</u> <u>time</u> for a <u style="font-style: italic;">Do Not Disturb</u> sign.</div><div><br /></div><div>By morning, Harry & Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> sustenance. They called for room service. When service knocked at the door, Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">frantically</u> looked for a place to hide. The room had <u>nowhere</u> for Harry to hide. So he laid flat on the bed with a duvet over his head. Meghan <u>quietly</u> tossed Harry into the bathroom. But, he preferred his <u>original</u> spot. Their room service order(s) were brought by an acquaintance of Meghan's that knew her leading to small talk whilst Harry's hiding in the room. <u>Unbeknownst</u> to the staff of Harry's presence. When they <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> left, Harry sit-up <u style="font-weight: bold;">gasping</u> for air. Soon after, they were laughing hard at the situation. Harry & Meghan decided to have dinner that night at Harry's place and invited some people over. <u>They'd</u> cook and make a night of it. First things first, they had to shop for it. They had <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> but grapes and cottage pies.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZBNw9GtNH4HyIEIkjBAU8A5b5w3Dp87_WOFDj3Iasu1O6uD2z4GKw70BMdbBsJOaV1f08gZnowon0ROcNwwrs-l8G9ZklQPaO75hTuZ5GBVNSpOBIuy3MtKP-lzhIJnxNo3kRahJpluUTvLW9Dt0IZXWwlBjZ9IxqjdE2WTjWiRQLc8UKZGO7ABBuCnm/s1423/p14185147_b_h9_aa.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1423" height="95" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZBNw9GtNH4HyIEIkjBAU8A5b5w3Dp87_WOFDj3Iasu1O6uD2z4GKw70BMdbBsJOaV1f08gZnowon0ROcNwwrs-l8G9ZklQPaO75hTuZ5GBVNSpOBIuy3MtKP-lzhIJnxNo3kRahJpluUTvLW9Dt0IZXWwlBjZ9IxqjdE2WTjWiRQLc8UKZGO7ABBuCnm/w200-h95/p14185147_b_h9_aa.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>They decided to shop in parellel segments and in disguise to <u>avoid</u> the press. Meghan arrived <u>before</u> Harry in cover-up clothing. He was <u>s</u><i><u>urprised</u></i> that Meghan <u>wasn't</u> recognized due to <u>many</u> Brits watching <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>. <u>No</u> <u>one</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">paid</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">attention</u> <u>at</u> <u>all</u> to Meghan. Only Harry caught the press' attention. <u>Equally</u> anonymous, Harry grabbed a basket, and casually walked up/down the aisle(s). They kept mental and non-verbal communication from one another. Meghan had cut out a roasted salmon recipe from <u style="font-style: italic;">Food & Wine</u> magazine. With that, they shopped for that recipe. When they finished their list, Harry paid the checkout, then texted Meghan where to meet at their previously disclosed location. Moments later, their shopping was in the clear. They roared out of the parking lot heading for <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>. Harry watched as they passed along the city. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry was excited to <u>welcome</u> Meghan to his home, but also <u>embarrassed</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u> was <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">no</b> palace. It was palace-adjacent. To Harry's relief, Meghan had pre-conceived notions. Until she got inside. She wasn't far off when Meghan stated it looked like a frat house - which she <u>wasn't</u> wrong. It was more of a place for Harry's belongings. It was also constructed by smaller people. The rooms were tiny and the ceilings were doll's house low. Harry gave a 30-second tour. He <u>never</u> <u>really</u> took <u><b>notice</b></u> of the appearance in his home and the shabbiness of it all. The salmon turned out <u>perfectly</u>. Guests complimented Meghan on her culinary talents. They <u>took</u> <u>in</u> and devoured Meghan's stories; wanting to hear about <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>. Her travels. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> it went off without a hitch.</div><div><br /></div><div>After dinner, they moved onto drinks. The wine was as good as the company. Afterward, they moved onto music and dancing. Then, they got into tequila. They were <u>all</u> welcoming to Meghan. Harry remembers <u>thinking</u>: <i>If meeting the rest of his family went as smoothly</i>. . . <i>they were </i><u style="font-style: italic;">home</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">free</u>. Harry <u>noticed</u> Meghan had felt <u>poorly</u>. She complained of an upset stomach and looked <u>horribly</u> <u>pale</u>. Harry thought she was being a lightweight. Meghan took herself to bed. After a nightcap, Harry saw their guests and tidied-up. Harry got into bed around 12A. and <u>crashed</u> <u>out</u>; only to awaken at 2A. to <u>hear</u> Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">awfully</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sick</u>. <u>Something</u> was going on with Meghan. Come to find. . .it was Food Poisoning from British calamari. Harry rubbed Meghan's back in the essence of her projectiling and eventually put her to bed. Weak, near tears; she envisioned a <u>very</u> <u>different</u> end to Date Four. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">proving</u> that one could care and <b><u>genuinely</u> <u style="color: #e06666;">love</u> </b>for one another. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8gSDIvqfuvxekxA6b_62d6d-nQEHJmCRmB2pck86wILiSMctYhOEePDboCAB2NpOEKxWUASvtWRWwJ8df0Tuo2A9Qe6xYNbg5b_9pPV-7KgG24Skgt1DfHsA3-qMbQWxWVGAUWBqfbk5tEAz9GfQZWeLjUE4-m_nebnPFzLHzmonzFgm1QJdpIE7g3_p/s1329/4e53c93fbab9324fbb08adbdc5901fb8af-16-prince-harry-meghan-markle.2x.h473.w710.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="885" data-original-width="1329" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8gSDIvqfuvxekxA6b_62d6d-nQEHJmCRmB2pck86wILiSMctYhOEePDboCAB2NpOEKxWUASvtWRWwJ8df0Tuo2A9Qe6xYNbg5b_9pPV-7KgG24Skgt1DfHsA3-qMbQWxWVGAUWBqfbk5tEAz9GfQZWeLjUE4-m_nebnPFzLHzmonzFgm1QJdpIE7g3_p/s320/4e53c93fbab9324fbb08adbdc5901fb8af-16-prince-harry-meghan-markle.2x.h473.w710.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Just before Meghan returned to Canada, they went to <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore</u> gardens for a walk. It was on the way to the airport and a <u>favorite</u> spot for Harry. It also co-incidentally spoke to Meghan. They <b><u>spoke</u></b> of family, each other's work. But, <u>mostly</u> they talked the status of their relationship. . . .thus far. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">talked</u> their way to the airport, where Harry dropped on the sly. They <u>agreed</u> if they were to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u>; they'd <u>need</u> a <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> plan. Making a vow that no more than 2 weeks went by <u>without</u> communications or seeing each other. Due to their history of failed relationships, <u>theirs</u> had to take <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">effort</u> <u>&</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">planning</u>. Fighting and defeating the distance. <u>Meaning</u>: <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOADS</u> of travel. Alas, Harry's movements triggered more attention & press. <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYONE</u> was on <b style="color: red;"><u>HIGH</u> <u>ALERT</u>!</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>The <u>burden</u> would fall on Meghan. Spending time on planes, crossing the ocean while working full-time on <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u> within the early days of courtship. It <u>wasn't</u> fair for Meghan to take the burden. . . but, she was up for it. The alternative was <u>not</u> <u>any</u> <u>better</u>. . . Distance and <u>not</u> seeing one another. <u>Unbearable</u>. Or <u>Unfeasible</u>. For the 100TH time; since July 1ST, Harry's heart cracked open before departing from one another again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Soon after that particular day, William & Kate invited Harry for dinner. They <u>knew</u> something was up with Harry and wanted to <u>know</u> <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">what</i>. Harry <u>wasn't</u> <u>ready</u> for them to <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u>! As they sat in front of the TV room, the <u>moment</u> felt <u>right</u>. Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">casually</u> mentioned there was . . . . a new woman in his life. They were intrigued. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">swore</u> them to <u style="font-weight: bold;">secrecy</u>. Their mouths fell open with each detail. William turned to Harry and said to <i>Fuck Off</i>! William thought it was impossible. Harry was baffled, until William & Kate stated they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">fans</u> of <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>. Great. Just when Harry thought they would <u>hate</u> Meghan; they may end up <u>hounding</u> her for an autograph or show gossip. They <u>barraged</u> Harry with questions. Going into detail about their meeting, about Botswana and more. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> smitten. He didn't want to give away too much.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry couldn't wait for them to meet Meghan. He <u>couldn't</u> <u>wait</u> for the 4 of them to meet and spend time together. This was a <u>lifelong</u> <u>dream</u> for Harry - to join William & Kate with/as an <u>equal</u> partner. To become a foursome instead of a <u>lonely</u> trio. Harry wanted to <u>move</u> <u>forward</u> with Meghan although William advised him to slow down. Harry stated that: <i>Anything Could Happen</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Meghan returned to London a week later, they had lunch while he introduced her to a few good friends. All good. Everyone loved her. Emboldened, Harry felt the time had come. . . to meet the family. Meghan <u>agreed</u>. First stop was to <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Lodge</u> to meet Fergie due to her acquaintance with Fergie's daughter. . . Baby steps. As they neared <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Lodge</u>, Harry received word on his phone. Meghan thought it'd be fun for her to meet his grandma. Harry seen his grandmother. Meghan seen <u style="font-style: italic;">The Queen</u>. Harry <u>tried</u> to warn her of <u>royal</u> etiquette. <u>Not</u> for his grandmother. But, <u style="font-style: italic;">The Queen</u>. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>They pulled in and were met by Harry's aunt, Fergie, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> asked about the curtsy. Fergie demonstrated. It <u>intimidated</u> Meghan. There wasn't time for a more advanced tutorial, They couldn't keep <u style="font-style: italic;">Her Majesty</u> waiting. As they walked toward the door, both Harry and his aunt whispered <u>quick</u> reminders into Meghan's ear. They entered a large front sitting room and there she was. Granny/The Queen. The Monarch. Q.E.II. Meghan went straight to her and dropped a <u>deep</u>, flawless curtsy. Everyone around <u>acted</u> quiet, proper with a blow-off attitude. Pure British tactics. Harry's grandmother was dressed for church. Fancy. Harry could <u>see</u> Meghan <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">regretting</b> her jeans and black sweater attire. Just as Harry was regretting his shitty attire choice as well. He was occupied to see his grandmother. . .<u>not</u> The Queen. Harry's grandmother busied herself asking Meghan about her visit. Harry's grandmother even asked Meghan her opinion of those in American politics? Meghan <u>personally</u> seen politics as a no-win game, so she switched the conversation topic(s) to Canada. After 20 minutes, Harry's grandmother announced her departure. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq65S6Gqy2rff_4wqZJHCWckIF8ZgtmdCMlgQm2E64snoFDP8ZRP6XHxLQR6d8TRzyUfixrkUeSlTbthgMJnU1EmJz15lMzM9D_o1E2PhWMsHL05xXcGmfojcMCgh2DabdJlNDfhfT_7Y596S5QyzsqEdFbEXdh2dLIbVCShOOP5dNOwOdhd-8vkjzHwRB/s2000/meghan-andrew-43.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq65S6Gqy2rff_4wqZJHCWckIF8ZgtmdCMlgQm2E64snoFDP8ZRP6XHxLQR6d8TRzyUfixrkUeSlTbthgMJnU1EmJz15lMzM9D_o1E2PhWMsHL05xXcGmfojcMCgh2DabdJlNDfhfT_7Y596S5QyzsqEdFbEXdh2dLIbVCShOOP5dNOwOdhd-8vkjzHwRB/w320-h213/meghan-andrew-43.webp" width="320" /></a></div>With the family following suit, they began to escort Harry's grandmother out. Before reaching the door, Harry's grandmother locked eyes with Meghan, gave a wave and a warm smile. As Harry's grandmother departed, Meghan dipped into a curtsy again. After she left, <u>everyone</u> resumed their prior selves. Drinks <u>all</u> <u>around</u>. Everyone complimented Meghan on her curtsy. She asked about the person with whom she <u>thought</u> was his assistant. <u>Completely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">unaware</u> it was her second son and Harry's uncle, Andrew. From <u>there</u>, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> Meghan <u>hadn't</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u>/d them. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnJiv6492f9JUE6zSnVaMIvFdCS8j9UAcSQbodzsvnon4BUVzrHBTvUpHDUrjAXq4V2dBbhbyHXqs2kIcmGh62GrfLH7Okz0ZE78xJ2ckqeCadfObQgE1lrgnpcdjB2ebazq-p6Tw3FvFU7CUqrMrl_oOpuMs-t9OZihb1LmO1mzLkrz0mD0R80LEO7Pi/s2400/royals-today-main-190620-02.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="2400" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnJiv6492f9JUE6zSnVaMIvFdCS8j9UAcSQbodzsvnon4BUVzrHBTvUpHDUrjAXq4V2dBbhbyHXqs2kIcmGh62GrfLH7Okz0ZE78xJ2ckqeCadfObQgE1lrgnpcdjB2ebazq-p6Tw3FvFU7CUqrMrl_oOpuMs-t9OZihb1LmO1mzLkrz0mD0R80LEO7Pi/s320/royals-today-main-190620-02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Next was Harry introducing Meghan to William. Harry knew there would be friction if they waited any longer. So, they both popped over one afternoon, shortly before going on a shooting trip. Walking up to the home location, under the huge arch, through the courtyard, Harry was <b><u>more</u> </b><u style="font-style: italic;">nervous</u> than the meeting with his grandmother. Harry was in conflict asking why with <u>no</u> <u>answer</u> in mind. After a minute of waiting, there was Harry's <u>big</u> <u>brother</u>, a bit dressed up. Harry introduced them. Meghan leaned in and gave William a hug, which <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> freaked them out. They took it very <u>differently</u>. William didn't hug many; whereas Meghan was used to it. Talk about a culture clash. Harry didn't warn Meghan ahead of time. He just saw it as though his brother was meeting his girlfriend from <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Soon came the acquaintances. William got over it. They were soon interrupted by a barking spaniel. Kate was out with the kids. Then, it was time for goodbyes. They each had other priorities which contended with their departure. Meghan gave Harry a kiss. She told the boys to enjoy their outing, off they went to spend her <u>first</u> night alone in <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>. Over the next few days, Harry was a man in love. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u> talking about her. Now that their relationship was out and public, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> had <u>so</u> <u>much</u> <u>to</u> <u>say</u>. William <u>listened</u>, his attention was attentive, always thinly smiling. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">help</u> it. He was like word vomit. To William's credit, he didn't criticize. Harry seemed like he <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> validation from his brother on his choices.</div><div><br /></div><div>Weeks later, Harry and Meghan drove through the gate, into the lush gardens of <u style="font-style: italic;">Clarence House</u>, which made Meghan gasp. Harry informed Meghan of the history of the property. Harry mentioned that he had previously lived there from ages 19-28. After Harry moved out, Camilla turned Harry's bedroom into her dressing room. He tried not to care. But, the <u>first</u> time Harry saw it, he <u>cared</u>. The door opened and they were greeted by Charles' butler and long-time house manager, who also worked with the family. On the landing of the creaky staircase of 12 steps, on the landing above them, stood Charles. Beside him stood Camilla. Harry & Meghan rehearsed this <u>very</u> <u>moment</u> <u>several</u> times. They all went into a large sitting room. Along the way, Charles asked if Meghan <u>truly</u> was the star of an American soap opera! Meghan <u>corrected</u> them; informing them of <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>. Charles found it <u>Splendid</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6tUqHuBdNooatH20EHZzBzhEIiLExvoEI0k-qgMLx-nyTYRGf3TNOBBeU3Uko6Gn7sn0JUmzP_VK_oYhPoUtaSm-3HBJJfIYkwcCmH2y9rWWHUqZG9GFgKML6HlbpBDHW4NyzX7I_G9EAImexD8GKH7_ke6ROOadvbGovf1VIjML9LCOg2AnaTANh6k8/s1200/harry-meghan-queen-react-1623012620978.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6tUqHuBdNooatH20EHZzBzhEIiLExvoEI0k-qgMLx-nyTYRGf3TNOBBeU3Uko6Gn7sn0JUmzP_VK_oYhPoUtaSm-3HBJJfIYkwcCmH2y9rWWHUqZG9GFgKML6HlbpBDHW4NyzX7I_G9EAImexD8GKH7_ke6ROOadvbGovf1VIjML9LCOg2AnaTANh6k8/s320/harry-meghan-queen-react-1623012620978.webp" width="320" /></a></div>They came to a round table. Beside them stood a trolley with tea: honey, cake, flapjacks, sandwiches, warm crumpets, crackers with creamy spread, shredded basil - Charles' favorite. Charles sat with his back to an open window. Camilla sat in front of him. Harry & Meghan sat between them, across from one another. Harry scarfed down a crumpet with </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Marmite</u><span style="text-align: left;">; Meghan had 2 smoked-salmon tea sandwiches. They were both </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">starving</u><span style="text-align: left;">. Being </span><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">nervous</u><span style="text-align: left;"> prevented them from eating. Charles offered pancakes. Meghan loved them. Camilla asked how Meghan preferred her tea. Meghan apologized for now knowing. She </span><u style="text-align: left;">thought</u><span style="text-align: left;"> tea was tea. This brought on the discussion of Americanisms V. Britishisms. One conversation led to another. The conversations were easy, all 4 talking at once. Then Charles talked to Meghan as Harry conversed with Camilla, who seemed keener on eavesdropping than talking to her stepson but, alas she was stuck with Harry. Soon, they all switched. Eventually, it became an outbound conversation where everyone joined in. Talking about the arts & acting generally. Charles had questions about Meghan's career. He was impressed with her answers and her confidence and her intelligence. What Meghan shined at caught the family off-guard. Soon, their time was up. Charles & Camilla had other engagements pertaining to Royal Life. Harry explained the Royal schedule to Meghan later on. They soon stood up. Meghan leaned towards Charles. Harry flinched due to Charles </span><u style="text-align: left;">not</u><span style="text-align: left;"> being one for hugs. Thankfully, Charles gave a royal cheek-to-cheek which he seemed to enjoy! As they left. . . .Welcome to the family!</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJ1c_CoIoKf3u7EFDQNrY-7VzT3TqGShvKgePFl5uZsnLIWq8w9sDz6_-dWWUebYZdFahuR500j-SEwip91KPUDuncJSzjEHG6xqv_eQfYvP32Im6RLvKpJUrp2pukhGts0T8XgYNRKviTEZon50tqh5iIbpwSPCmcMAfX8HbOmkquxMTiZVre8LEbLPF/s700/63bda3d906706e0019a9a355.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJ1c_CoIoKf3u7EFDQNrY-7VzT3TqGShvKgePFl5uZsnLIWq8w9sDz6_-dWWUebYZdFahuR500j-SEwip91KPUDuncJSzjEHG6xqv_eQfYvP32Im6RLvKpJUrp2pukhGts0T8XgYNRKviTEZon50tqh5iIbpwSPCmcMAfX8HbOmkquxMTiZVre8LEbLPF/s320/63bda3d906706e0019a9a355.webp" width="320" /></a></div>At the end of October 2016, Harry flew to Toronto to <u>see</u> Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> her life. <u>Her</u> territory. He was able to <u>see</u> it <u>ALL</u>! Every last detail. They explored the sparsely populated nooks/cranies of her neighborhood. Ever be cautious. Maintain the bubble. Keep up disguises. Harry informed Meghan he <u style="font-weight: bold;">hadn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u> great luck with themed fancy-dress parties, <u>but</u> Harry gave it another go. <i>Fuck it</i>. For help with his costume, Harry turned to his friend, Tom Hardy, prior to leaving home. Harry called Tom asking to borrow his <u style="font-style: italic;">Mad Max</u> costume. The <u>whole</u> thing. He would lend it to Harry before he left Britain. Harry tried it on in Meghan's little bathroom. When he returned from the bathroom, Meghan <u>laughed</u>! The <u>best</u> <u>part</u>: Harry was <u>un</u>recognizable. Meghan wore black shorts, a camo top with fishnet stockings.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The party was ideal. Several people did a double take as Meghan passed through the room. But no one looked twice at her date. Harry wished he could've used the disguise <u>daily</u>. He also wished he could've reused it the following day to visit her onset. . . .Then again, maybe not. Harry made the <u>mistake</u> of Googling and watching her love scenes online. <i style="font-weight: bold;">You can't unsee what you already have</i>. So, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUSED</u> onto Sunday. <u>Everything</u> was rendered moot, <u>everything</u> was changed <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u>, the news of their relationship broke <b><u>WORLDWIDE</u>! </b>They had a heads-up that it was likely to happen that day. They were tipped prior to heading for the <u style="font-style: italic;">Halloween Apocalypse</u>, that another <u>apocalypse</u> was coming. They feared but were <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> for what headed their way. Both are <u style="font-style: italic;">scared</u> for what lies ahead. Meghan reminded Harry of what he said in Botswana. He promised to keep her <u>safe</u>. She believed in Harry then and now. By the time Harry reached <u style="font-style: italic;">Heathrow</u>. . . the story fizzled? It was the <u>calm</u> before the storm.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aA3CGQnfJZjrvgEZCvnCcNhOKLcLf3d33S7i8yT890lZcCsa67aYv0E2mHXfNEZ77M0riraemJiNLd-wX-nPGuI-Ea0I8pUZ-d-G2NDrciR6Qy83Ft3hiAVJR47XgQbyhQVPFQJB6bup34XrNeviQ75Yxa7MPO7FjEkCcDns5ym3SX81M9VXNf4_Cyfq/s709/meghan-markle-prince-harry-doria-radlan-6c6442a2-1d96-4f30-bf21-10bd0294184a.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aA3CGQnfJZjrvgEZCvnCcNhOKLcLf3d33S7i8yT890lZcCsa67aYv0E2mHXfNEZ77M0riraemJiNLd-wX-nPGuI-Ea0I8pUZ-d-G2NDrciR6Qy83Ft3hiAVJR47XgQbyhQVPFQJB6bup34XrNeviQ75Yxa7MPO7FjEkCcDns5ym3SX81M9VXNf4_Cyfq/s320/meghan-markle-prince-harry-doria-radlan-6c6442a2-1d96-4f30-bf21-10bd0294184a.webp" width="316" /></a></div>Harry'd braced himself for the <u>usual</u> madness, the standard liberals, but he <u>hadn't</u> anticipated <u>this</u> <u>level</u> of lying. <u>Above</u> <u>all</u>, Harry hadn't <u>readied</u> for racism. Both dog-whistle and <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">your</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u> racism. The <u style="font-style: italic;">Daily Mail</u> took the lead with their headline<u>s</u>. Other tabloids jumped into the fray. Harry's face froze. His <span style="color: red;">blood</span> stopped. He was angry. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ashamed</u> even more. He felt betrayed by <u>his</u> <u>own</u> country. To make matters <u style="font-weight: bold;">even</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u>, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Mail</u> went onto collaborating Meghan's skin color with the city of Compton. A place she'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> been to or visited. Alleging that Meghan would. . . do something. . .genetically. . . .to the Royal Family. Taint it's blue-blooded pale skin with rich & exotic DNA. Furthermore, inquiries reported on the history of Meghan's mother, Doria. This <u style="font-weight: bold;">blasphemous</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">bullshit</u> was blasted to millions of Britain's. Stereotyping <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">step</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-style: italic;">The Telegraph</u> entered the fray about Meghan being a divorcee. Digging into Meghan's <u>first</u> marriage. Nevermind that the British family itself was <u>wrought</u> with divorce. Divorce in 2016 to the British press deemed a Scarlet letter. The press were becoming Meg-oligists. Mocking taunts with hot garbage: </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry & Meghan <b><u>DIDN'T</u> <u>CARE</u>!</b> Harry huddled with lawyers, <u>trying</u> to work out <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">how</u> to protect Meghan from various attacks from <u>all</u> <u>over</u>. Harry spent <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>, from the moment he woke up until <u>long</u> <u>past</u> midnight, <u style="font-weight: bold;">trying</u> to make it stop. Suing them didn't work. It was <u>just</u> what the press wanted. Harry felt wild with <u style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">rage</u>. And <u style="font-weight: bold;">guilt</u>. He felt he had infected Meghan & Doria with his <u>daily</u> life. Here, he <u>promised</u> to <u>keep</u> both mother/daughter <u>safe</u>; and he felt he put her in the middle of <u style="font-weight: bold;">danger</u>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUU1pxcvydBY6agc05rfncARZgsCPT-y6T0Kp-nL0oGHU2w9eJsJ0OIvja-vg8X7ZpvwygqBvX-fXbKQWHlM-C1GPFgs5ZnGoxFuzkOu2jccdjRJdN8vvEkTq02kWVw_SkIYBzT6aL4BFT197leTXu3bNi9aBIaqWFtK_YQfqwg0AL65FoDCbu3szS8k6p/s2560/HuffPost.svg.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="2560" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUU1pxcvydBY6agc05rfncARZgsCPT-y6T0Kp-nL0oGHU2w9eJsJ0OIvja-vg8X7ZpvwygqBvX-fXbKQWHlM-C1GPFgs5ZnGoxFuzkOu2jccdjRJdN8vvEkTq02kWVw_SkIYBzT6aL4BFT197leTXu3bNi9aBIaqWFtK_YQfqwg0AL65FoDCbu3szS8k6p/s320/HuffPost.svg.png" width="320" /></a></div>When Harry wasn't with the lawyer, he was with <u style="font-style: italic;">Kensington Palace</u>'s communications advisor who <u>urged</u> them to do nothing. It would've given what the press <u>wanted</u>. Silence was the <u>last</u> option. They couldn't let the press continue doing this to Meghan. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">pleaded</u> for <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> to <i style="font-weight: bold;">Do Something</i><b>. </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Say Something</i> to the press. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">blocked</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</u> could/will be done. Harry accepted this as a <u>final</u> straw. Until he read an essay in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Huffington Post</u>. The essayist stated the mild reaction of Britons to this <u style="font-weight: bold;">explosion</u> of racism was to be expected, due to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORIC</u> lineage heir of racial colonists. But, <u>this</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">unforgivable</u>. Harry's silence to the situation. <u>Harry's</u>. He showed the essay to those in charge. They needed a statement. <u>No</u> debate. <u>No</u> discussion. Within a day, there was a rough draft. Strong. Precise. Angry & Honest. Harry didn't see an <u>end</u> to the problem. But, a beginning to an end. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">By the time Meghan landed at <u style="font-style: italic;">Heathrow</u>, Harry's statement was <u>everywhere</u>. And changed <u>nothing</u>. The onslought continued. It generated a <u>new</u> onslaught from Harry's family. Charles & William were <u style="font-weight: bold;">furiously</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">pissed</u>. They gave Harry an earful. They said Harry's statement made them look bad. <b><u style="font-style: italic;">What</u><i> the </i><u>ACTUAL </u><i>f</i><i>uck</i>?</b> They'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> put out a statement for <u style="font-style: italic;">their</u> girlfriends or wives when <u style="font-style: italic;">they</u> were being harassed. So, this visit wasn't like the ones before. It was the <u>complete</u> opposite. Instead of sitting in Harry's kitchen talking dreamily about the future, or getting to know one another, Harry & Meghan were <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stressed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> meeting lawyers, searching for a way to combat the madness.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Meghan was <u>smart</u> to ignore the internet. She wanted to protect herself. But <u>not</u> sustainable if they were waging a battle for her reputation and physical safety. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to know what was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> fact, what was false. Sometimes questioning Meghan on <u style="font-weight: bold;">facts</u> from time-to-time. Meghan would often start to cry. <u>Still</u>. Despite <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of this, Harry & Meghan <u>remained</u> calm with one another. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Never</u> taking the pressure or snapping at one another. They managed to protect their <u>essential</u> bond, <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> snapping at one another during their few days. As they came across the final days of her visit, they were a <u>solid</u>, happy and Meghan announced she wanted to make Harry a special goodbye lunch.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGevRpSaTNTDMMH-5TJwbmoDDZi6Br5V4tVfl02Co4NXjNMCQSdPPbq_yrvP1AtaLd-zJejVhiKB5pQa-_e3tPj7TwYJsSrnvZX__kNDB_rh3rUyvv05-Th7A_FYp6fwmPqqSzcr7BC_NukoPB31tWQ_wdBFnwj8WKTbygLpTELAFwUmW2WZ-6L31hAVs_/s2048/Whole_Foods_Market_201x_logo.svg.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGevRpSaTNTDMMH-5TJwbmoDDZi6Br5V4tVfl02Co4NXjNMCQSdPPbq_yrvP1AtaLd-zJejVhiKB5pQa-_e3tPj7TwYJsSrnvZX__kNDB_rh3rUyvv05-Th7A_FYp6fwmPqqSzcr7BC_NukoPB31tWQ_wdBFnwj8WKTbygLpTELAFwUmW2WZ-6L31hAVs_/w200-h200/Whole_Foods_Market_201x_logo.svg.png" width="200" /></a></div>There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> in Harry's fridge, as usual. But there was a <u style="font-style: italic;">Whole Foods</u> down the street. Harry gave Meghan the <u>safest</u> route of directions, past the Palace guards towards the direction of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Whole Foods</u>. There was <u>no</u> way to miss it. Harry was occupied with a prior engagement but would be home soon. 2 Hours Later, when Harry got home, he found Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">inconsolable</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Sobbing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shaking</u>. Meghan could <u style="font-weight: bold;">barely</u> speak. She did <u>just</u> <u>as</u> Harry <u>advised</u> her to. She ran happily, anonymously up & down the supermarket aisle. But, she was stopped and asked for the exit. She was <u>recognized</u>. . . for <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Meghan <u>politely</u> declined gracefully and returned to the grocery shop. He threatened to get a picture one way or another. This asshole proceeded to whip out his phone and follow her to the deli counter, snapping away as she looked for the turkey. <i>Fuck It</i>! As Meghan hurried to the checkout, she was followed there as well. Before her were the various rows of paper media with <b><u>HORRIBLE</u>, <u>DISGUSTING</u> </b>headlines. . .were her. The other customers noticed as well. They began to pull out their phones, like assholes. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OiunM8xJLBjJgg0nOhXnY9k__Hmd9urBae3X-olQwOQ3HBTmI8cfrRyF2xDZIh47Bx9db4wVkuz62U0vI-QNzUgZFMJNuI2Abquc3d5JyBQqdN9_Zz0KstJBJfW0r8vJYybZxOlOfQ1wYwyCtEUsELZvZXVrXAzr88eNr8-f-WVCoiiNi7p0oT1HpkG2/s1500/markle-harry-2-2000-a8ca6377ea124395b9ff0dd87b887057.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9OiunM8xJLBjJgg0nOhXnY9k__Hmd9urBae3X-olQwOQ3HBTmI8cfrRyF2xDZIh47Bx9db4wVkuz62U0vI-QNzUgZFMJNuI2Abquc3d5JyBQqdN9_Zz0KstJBJfW0r8vJYybZxOlOfQ1wYwyCtEUsELZvZXVrXAzr88eNr8-f-WVCoiiNi7p0oT1HpkG2/s320/markle-harry-2-2000-a8ca6377ea124395b9ff0dd87b887057.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After paying for her groceries, Meghan walked out into a gaggle of phones/cameras. She kept her head down, rushed up to <u style="font-style: italic;">Kensington High St</u>. She was nearly home when a horse-drawn carriage came trolling out of <u style="font-style: italic;">Kensington Palace Gardens</u>, hearing some sort of parade. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> gate was <u style="font-weight: bold;">blocked</u>. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> to go back along the main road towards paparazzi hell. When she <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> reached <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>, Meghan called her girlfriends, in turn, and asked <i>if</i> Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">worth</u> it? He proceeded to put his arm around Meghan. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINELY</u> Sorry. <b><u>So</u> <u>very</u> </b><u>sorry</u>. They just held each other, until Harry became <u>aware</u> of the smell of Meghan cooking lunch. She wanted to feed him before he left. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">3 Weeks Later, Harry was getting an HIV test at a drop-in-clinic in Barbados. With Rhianna. The occasion was the upcoming <u style="font-style: italic;">World AIDS Day</u>. Harry asked Rhianna, at the last minute, to join him. . .raising awareness. To Harry's shock, she <u>accepted</u>. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> day. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">vital</u> cause, but Harry's head <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> in it. He was worried about Meghan. She couldn't go home due to the press surrounding it. Alone. Adrift. Meghan was on-break from filming, and it was the <u style="font-style: italic;">Thanksgiving</u> holiday. Harry reached out to a few L.A. friends whom were house-sitting empty, and generously offered it to her. Problem solved, for the moment. Still, with them being surrounded, Harry was feeling worried, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">intensely</u> hostile. The <u>same</u> royal reporters.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFsSgr05vlzV57WJUAchPG5wpzTVM-XuEVgcrsSP02rOchJcyRcbcK1LB2yflXgF2cnxqWuNfyB4zKePrPDCR6jJsgyDpjfLRirprkkaJNi-0oxye0fscvOYaD32VkNRkAqWCxObD2X0wGRTPmbbd-oQvXFI1IYy3Q0DJRVKHDpeJ2L6YP71PitnvT1tqs/s632/IMG_4162_960.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="407" data-original-width="632" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFsSgr05vlzV57WJUAchPG5wpzTVM-XuEVgcrsSP02rOchJcyRcbcK1LB2yflXgF2cnxqWuNfyB4zKePrPDCR6jJsgyDpjfLRirprkkaJNi-0oxye0fscvOYaD32VkNRkAqWCxObD2X0wGRTPmbbd-oQvXFI1IYy3Q0DJRVKHDpeJ2L6YP71PitnvT1tqs/s320/IMG_4162_960.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Therein, the needle went in Harry's finger. He seen the <span style="color: red;">blood</span> coming and remembered <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of those before; friends associates, fellow soldiers, journalists, novelists, classmates anyone whomever depicted Harry as a blue blood. . .a shorthand for aristocracy. Watching Harry's <span style="color: red;">blood</span> go into the vaccutainer. . . <span style="color: red;">Red</span>. . . .<u>just</u> <u>like</u> <u>everyone</u> <u>else's</u>. Harry sat and converted with Rhianna as he awaited the results. <u>Negative</u>. Afterward, Harry wanted to dash to the <u>quickest</u> Wi-Fi to contact Meghan. <b><i>Life gets in the way</i>. . .</b>with a slate of meetings and visits - a royal schedule with <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> much wiggle room. Harry had to hurry back to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Merchant Navy</u> ship; taking him around the Caribbean.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">By the time Harry reached the ship, the Wi-Fi <u>barely</u> had a pulse. He was only able to text Meghan; if he found aways to do it. They were able to communicate long enough for Harry to know Meghan arrived at the destination <u>safely</u>. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Harry was only able to text Meghan if he stood on a bench in his cabin, phone pressed against the porthole. Better yet, Meghan's mother & father had been able to sneak in and spend Thanksgiving with her. Her father had brought an armful of tabloids; which he inexplicably wanted to discuss. <u>That</u> didn't go well and he ended up leaving <u>early</u>. When Meghan was reciting the story to Harry, the Wi-Fi went out. The merchant ship chugged on to its next destination. Henceforth, Harry put his phone down and enjoyed the rest of the ride. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Meghan was driving home from set. She noticed 5 cars following and <u style="font-weight: bold;">chasing</u> her. It was in wintry Canada on icy roads. She told herself not to panic and not to drive erratically. Not to give the press what they wanted. She called Harry. He was in his <u>own</u> car with bodyguards driving, and Meghan's tearful voice mentally took Harry back to <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u>. To his childhood. Remembering the <u style="font-weight: bold;">MOMENT</u> Harry heard of his mother's demise. Harry pleaded with Meghan to stay calm and keep her eyes on the road. His air-controlling training took over. Harry talked her to the nearest police station. As she got out of the car, Harry could <u>hear</u> the sound of cameras flashing. Meghan told the police what was happening, <u style="font-weight: bold;">begged</u> them for help. They were insisting nothing could be done due to her public status. Meghan went back to her car with press swarming again. Harry guided Meghan to her home, through the front door; where she collapsed. Harry did too, a little. He felt helpless, and <u>this</u> was his Achille's Heel. He could <u>deal</u> with so much for so long as there was action to be taken. But, when Harry had <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> to do . . . He wanted to die! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">There was no respite afterward. Being indoors <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> stop the <u style="font-weight: bold;">hounding</u>. After midnight, when things quieted down, Meghan <u>dared</u> to peep through the blinds and saw men sleeping in cars outside. . .waiting. Neighbors were being harassed as well. Meanwhile, back in L.A., Meghan's mother was facing the wrath of the paparazzi <u style="font-weight: bold;">daily</u>. She was being libeled. There was a time when Meghan worked in pallative care. Travelling all over Los Angeles to help people <u style="font-weight: bold;">end</u> their lives. Paparazzi <u style="font-weight: bold;">constantly</u> flashed their bulbs. . .<u>just</u> <u>like</u> <u>Harry's</u> <u>mother</u>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Once they reunited, Harry & Meghan were preparing dinner together in 2016. They were sharing/discovering the <u>same</u> <u>favorite</u> food: roast chicken. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> how to cook it, so Meghan taught him. Meghan was expanding Harry's horizons, teaching him about folk music/soul. Whether it was the wine or the press wearing him down; but for <u>some</u> reason, the conversation took an <u style="font-weight: bold;">unexpected</u> turn. Harry soon became touchy. Then angry. <u>Disproportionately</u>, sloppily <u>angry</u>. Meghan said something that rubbed Harry the wrong way. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>, he was just overly-sensitive that night. Harry spoke <u style="font-weight: bold;">harshly</u> to her and snapped at her. as the words <u>left</u> his mouth, Harry could feel the room come to a <u>stop</u>. Meghan walked out of the room and <u>disappeared</u> for a <u>full</u> 15 minutes.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry went and found Meghan upstairs. She was sitting in the bedroom. Calm, but she said in a <u>quiet</u>, level tone that she would <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> be spoken to in this manner. Harry nodded in agreement. She <u>wanted</u> to know where Harry's tone came from. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">unaware</u> that he grew up with it. Following him into adulthood. Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> going to tolerate that kind of partner. Or co-parent. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u> kind of life. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> going to raise children in an atmosphere of anger or disrespect. Meghan laid it <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> out. <u>Super</u> <u>clear</u>. They know that Harry's <u style="font-weight: bold;">anger</u> came from <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEP</u> inside. Some place that needed to be excavated. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">clear</u> Harry could use some assistance in getting that job done. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> therapy. Harry didn't find the right <u>appropriation</u> of what he was venturing for. Meghan told him to try again.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6P64g0X8Sfwbc55vnGokTtwAT7t1IFyaVJRY8tt8qRI_FWbUFLzd92aIHRmcWQANVD3KB0AnliKzi8JRyxYPPcuNYQs8TO1GhsbGl_sSA2aVcNSCHTibJiIDkCqpi8agPr8hcBQyi7N8P75oScTXiZI9O8128hHmmLoWfLKSbTS87WjyrB88x9wAQq_4/s2000/meghan-doria-prince-harry-car-chase.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6P64g0X8Sfwbc55vnGokTtwAT7t1IFyaVJRY8tt8qRI_FWbUFLzd92aIHRmcWQANVD3KB0AnliKzi8JRyxYPPcuNYQs8TO1GhsbGl_sSA2aVcNSCHTibJiIDkCqpi8agPr8hcBQyi7N8P75oScTXiZI9O8128hHmmLoWfLKSbTS87WjyrB88x9wAQq_4/s320/meghan-doria-prince-harry-car-chase.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Anytime Harry & Meghan went out in a dark car, they were <u>so</u> <u>intent</u> on not being late, watching the clock. They managed to elude the press for 5 months. The next time was leaving dinner with Doria, who'd flown down with her daughter. They got them; but were devoid of Doria. She returned to her hotel <u>peacefully</u>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> <i>feared</i> meeting a girlfriend's mother, but especially when you're making her daughter's life a living hell. The dinner with Doria was wonderful. Looking back, Harry seen it as the beginning of the end. The next day, the paps were there and a new flood of stories followed. Racism, misogyny, criminal stupidity - it <u>ALL</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">increased</u>. Not knowing where else to turn, Harry called his dad. Harry angrily explained this situation. He <u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> he might lose her to the press' poison. It had already begun to happen in slow motion. Death threats. Isolation. Harry explained more to his dad. He appealed to Charles' self-interest. Doing nothing was a <u>terrible</u> look for the monarchy. Charles was <b><u>completely</u> </b><u>unmoved</u>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">When Harry arrived, the day was autumnal, yet he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">profusely</u> sweating. He apologized. Moments later after a woman returned with a green fan, she aimed it <u>at</u> Harry. It was refreshing. The woman wanted for Harry to begin. Since he didn't know where, he began with his mom. Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> losing her. The therapist already knew bits-and-pieces of Harry's life story. Harry went into <u style="font-weight: bold;">detail</u> of his emotional loss. <i style="font-weight: bold;">The pain of that loss is what drives him. Some days</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">the pain is what holds him together</i><b>. </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Without the pain</i><b>. . .</b><i style="font-weight: bold;">he might forget her</i>. It might've sounded nuts. . .but there you go! <u style="font-weight: bold;">Most</u> memories with Harry's mother, with overwhelming sorrow, were <u>gone</u>. On the other hand, when Harry brought this up with William, he advised for his brother to go through old photo books. . . which Harry had already done. . .to no avail. What Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to rid the heaviness in his chest was help to <u style="font-weight: bold;">cry</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The next session, Harry asked if he could lie down. After doing so, Harry spoke about the physical and emotional <u style="font-weight: bold;">suffering</u>. The <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">painc</u>. The <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiety</u>. The sweats. It had developed 2 years prior; but it had <u>only</u> gotten worse. Harry talked about the time during a skiing holiday and emotions <u style="font-weight: bold;">ran</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u> the place. Harry may have teared-up a little. But, it <u>wasn't</u> enough. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to cry <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u>; but he <u>couldn't</u>. Harry got around to talking about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> rage, the ostensible trigger for seeking her out in the <u>first</u> place. He described the scene with Meghan, in the kitchen. . . shaking his head. He <u>vented</u> about his family. Harry frequently gave himself <u>pause</u> mid-sentence due to traffic passerby's outside.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">One subject led to another: The press. Harry let his mouth <u>fly</u> on that subject matter. He shared that Harry had shown such contempt, such <u>vile</u> disrespect to the woman he loved. Fuck the press. Harry had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u> to take his problems out on Meghan. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Everything</u> they lived through. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> in their right mind would ask for. Meghan was having panic attacks for the <u>first</u> time in her life. The therapist could tell and <u>seen</u> how <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">angry</i> Harry was for what Meghan was going through. Shit. Fuck! Yes! Harry was <b><u style="font-style: italic;">angry</u>!</b> No matter how valid Harry's complaints were, he was <u>stuck</u>. The yelling, angry and lashing out Harry <u>wasn't</u> him. It was more of a traumatized 12-yr-old Harry. A part of Harry is <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> trapped in 1997. Harry didn't like hearing the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. But. . . .there it was. The session lasted the allotted time. 2 Hours. The made a plan to reconnect and reschedule. Harry embraced her lightly with a hug. He spent the rest of the night mentally <u style="font-weight: bold;">soaking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> the day.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItfCY-7DdwpOBwOaYiqsg1_aFtFDHd-Up-lh2YiOM3wx8AyiDUmruVRvufvF0m3B6NgNlQFJ7ORUCbuExIUix1w95SgF2-pEPSWrQn-YbUD5XqB2fO2xPWYtAF8fqUf-gHo-KHdiifCs1vJbecGpYby9t4Ufk7c7uEt_in_nyB0F-W_94VEwuOHkm92-N/s1936/meghan-markle-princess-diana.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="1936" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItfCY-7DdwpOBwOaYiqsg1_aFtFDHd-Up-lh2YiOM3wx8AyiDUmruVRvufvF0m3B6NgNlQFJ7ORUCbuExIUix1w95SgF2-pEPSWrQn-YbUD5XqB2fO2xPWYtAF8fqUf-gHo-KHdiifCs1vJbecGpYby9t4Ufk7c7uEt_in_nyB0F-W_94VEwuOHkm92-N/s320/meghan-markle-princess-diana.webp" width="320" /></a></div>In another session, they talked about how William & Harry had often turned women into surrogate moms. Surrogate mothers made Harry feel better, and worse, out of guilt. <i>Like Harry was cheating on his mom</i>. Then they mentioned talking about <u>guilt</u>. They talked about Diana's parenting, how she could <u>over</u>-mother then disappear for stretches, An important discussion <u>without</u> disloyalty to his mom. More guilt. They talked about life inside the British Royal bubble. Assuming being a prince didn't involve being a <u>HUMAN</u>! That it was all a fairytale. Hearing the word <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal</u> meant no problems in assumption. Harry gave the therapist an overview of the dehumanization playing out in his life. <u>Now</u>, it was the dehumanization of Meghan. More hate, more vitriol - <u>plus</u> racism to boot. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">At one point, Harry sat up on the couch, crocked his neck to see if the therapist was listening. <i>Oh Shit</i>! <i>She was</i>. Her mouth was hanging open. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">honestly</u> thought this therapist would pick up on Britain's racism throughout their conversations. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> didn't know. One thing was <u style="font-weight: bold;">abundantly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">clear</u>: Harry was in the <u>oddest</u> of situations. Harry wondered if he had an addictive personality. If it was <u>one</u> addiction: Harry was addicted to <u style="font-weight: bold;">obsessing</u> over the press. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYS9f0Rhk9hAbmKsDT7mdI5iJVlVIkEWRs-kojAEYFBa832U_tVcARuBN8DZx3WkTEcectGPN_2fgME5aOI8ylwZ2iGARgCmiE3I3McgcU5s-JDp2kWwi-2cMPIKmkpv0ajp469eejh7FSTywSSsOU29-3duWAgsMHsJFdRib7Ha2vUwagP_iug3ZWGZT/s1013/screen-shot-2021-05-21-at-12-09-21-pm-1621613543.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="1013" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYS9f0Rhk9hAbmKsDT7mdI5iJVlVIkEWRs-kojAEYFBa832U_tVcARuBN8DZx3WkTEcectGPN_2fgME5aOI8ylwZ2iGARgCmiE3I3McgcU5s-JDp2kWwi-2cMPIKmkpv0ajp469eejh7FSTywSSsOU29-3duWAgsMHsJFdRib7Ha2vUwagP_iug3ZWGZT/s320/screen-shot-2021-05-21-at-12-09-21-pm-1621613543.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Harry always thought this therapist had performed a miracle, opened him up, <u>releasing</u> suppressed emotions. <u>But</u>, she only started the miracle, now it was been brought to fruition. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u> his life, Harry told people he couldn't <u>remember</u> the point, couldn't <u>remember</u> their mom, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> gave anyone the <u>full</u> picture. Harry's memory was dead! Now, through months of therapy, Harry's memory twitched, kicked, sputtered. It came to <u>life</u>. Some days, Harry would open his eyes to find his mother. . .standing before him. 1,000 images returned, some so bright that they were holograms. Harry <u>remembers</u> bits-and-pieces of his mom <u>on</u> <u>the</u> <u>day</u> of her passing. Moments that Harry & William <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">cherish</u>. In his memory flashback, the therapist <u style="font-weight: bold;">urged</u> Harry to break through. After asking about it, Harry brought her office a bottle of his mother's <u>favorite</u> perfume. At the start of their session, Harry lifted the lid of the perfume; took a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> sniff. . . .like a tab of LSD.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1Wb982UQSmcIpFrBz-ECS41i9PzxbFMviscsRUV-wOGaDeqPWo6T510rRtCFrKOSsdotb-JeGHM7AJSF04Io5swjGXmsE80ouJJswNVdJ8XBb6F92fGVemuufbSkgKz_bVsF1lggCoGDHGzYfG_unxlCAWpHslZdhavg471d9zeNx5k87c0AiJvoGs7d/s884/opal_fruits_packaging_graphic_de.format-webp.width-1440_5KhBlZZCFIpT67h7.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="884" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1Wb982UQSmcIpFrBz-ECS41i9PzxbFMviscsRUV-wOGaDeqPWo6T510rRtCFrKOSsdotb-JeGHM7AJSF04Io5swjGXmsE80ouJJswNVdJ8XBb6F92fGVemuufbSkgKz_bVsF1lggCoGDHGzYfG_unxlCAWpHslZdhavg471d9zeNx5k87c0AiJvoGs7d/w200-h126/opal_fruits_packaging_graphic_de.format-webp.width-1440_5KhBlZZCFIpT67h7.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Harry read somewhere that <u>smell</u> is our oldest sense. That bodes well with what he experienced in that <u>moment</u>, from there, images rose to the front of his brain. Harry <u>remembers</u> a time when his mother stuffed outside sweets into his socks before school. Both of them laughed at the school's rules. Harry even <u>remembered</u> the <u>brand</u> of sweets. . .<u style="font-style: italic;">Opal Fruits</u>. No wonder they were Harry's <u>favorite</u> candy. They brought back a plethora of memories for Harry. The sound of his mother's laughter that day, lost to him all these years, was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> back. Loud and <u>clear</u>. Harry cried with <u>joy</u> to hear it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-style: italic;">The Sun</u> ran a correction for their porn story in a section small enough to not capture attention. What did it matter now anyway? The damage was done. Plus, it cost Meghan thousands of dollars in legal fees. Harry tried to discuss his frustration with his father, yet again. He cut him off. Harry wasn't trying to hear a bullshit excuse. He wasn't a boy anymore. Harry tried a new tactic. These were the <u>same</u> shitty bastards who ridiculed Charles his <u>entire</u> life. Where was his outrage? Harry couldn't get a <u>straight</u> answer for him. Their conversations went in circles. When they hung up, Harry felt abandoned with no help.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix27HG-EJxa98K6BIi8eE0xOPR3cZdeDVN5ED1UgKe7D6XW8igBixiL18ygHmzg7OAusLofQtwhsB6N3ckpbFx9GAv4ASd3fDA8sxj749LXSpZRjvg0CRbLwINKPzKkIUgcCQdL6MPibJ224AkagJXspmMLTLjB8sul6zQYAuM9VVcQZt4CWvGsvr7F8eS/s2000/Harry-Meghan-Skipping-Prince-Williams-Tribute-Event-Princess-Diana.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix27HG-EJxa98K6BIi8eE0xOPR3cZdeDVN5ED1UgKe7D6XW8igBixiL18ygHmzg7OAusLofQtwhsB6N3ckpbFx9GAv4ASd3fDA8sxj749LXSpZRjvg0CRbLwINKPzKkIUgcCQdL6MPibJ224AkagJXspmMLTLjB8sul6zQYAuM9VVcQZt4CWvGsvr7F8eS/w200-h200/Harry-Meghan-Skipping-Prince-Williams-Tribute-Event-Princess-Diana.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Meghan went to Camilla, whom tried to counsel her by saying the press' treatment was <u>common</u> for newcomers. It would pass in due time. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">desperation</u>, Harry went to his brother. He took advantage of the <u>first</u> quiet moment with him in <u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u>. It was the end of August 2017; the 20TH Anniversary of their mom's death. Harry gave his brother a quick summary of what he & Meghan were living through. William didn't have a <u>satisfying</u> answer for Harry's dilemma, so they remained <u>silent</u>. It was then that William expressed the <u>same</u> feeling of his mother's presence. . .<u>among</u> them. They <u>both</u> felt spiritual messages from their mother. Harry felt his mother helped his way to Meghan. William took a step back. . .<i>He wouldn't go <u>that</u> far</i>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJpctbwO-RkNzqlC2pQnYAZe4rgcIPu8gwfd3UWXt6nZmxb8qa4CMEeGo90UReD_ONkzyopdD-Tmatv9-mDVTGZa47ALCKpMF4Anie5IhJuTagmZYiW4kMHop7AaETCJKzN4nC8k6UiDbjugqMJXW80B708wD2REUQvfKCr03j7GPX50V3SZLxIoNgzeS/s259/download.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJpctbwO-RkNzqlC2pQnYAZe4rgcIPu8gwfd3UWXt6nZmxb8qa4CMEeGo90UReD_ONkzyopdD-Tmatv9-mDVTGZa47ALCKpMF4Anie5IhJuTagmZYiW4kMHop7AaETCJKzN4nC8k6UiDbjugqMJXW80B708wD2REUQvfKCr03j7GPX50V3SZLxIoNgzeS/w320-h240/download.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Meghan came to London in September 2017. It was during this trip that Harry <u style="font-style: italic;">nervously</u> asked Meghan to elevate their relationship to her moving into <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>. They talked out the logistics of uprooting their lives. It would've meant an <u>end</u> to Meghan's job. She said <u>Yes</u>! Afterward, they sat down to dinner. After Meghan fell asleep, Harry analyzed himself. In a roll of emotions, there was a steak of <u style="font-style: italic;">relief</u>. Meghan expressed her <span style="color: #e06666;">love</span> for Harry in return. Part of Harry readied himself for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> case. <u style="font-style: italic;">Fear</u> of her <u>fast</u>-departure and run to Toronto. Part of him thought she would've been smart to do so. By <u>pure</u> chance, <u style="font-style: italic;">The 2017 Invictus Games</u> were going to be in Toronto. It was the perfect occasion for their <u>first</u> <u>official</u> public outing. They were <u>both</u> <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">nervous</i>. But, they had to bite the bullet. They'd hidden from the world enough. Once they had a <u>public</u> date, it might slow down the paps. They tried to make the <u>entire</u> affair as <u>normal</u> as possible. Watching the wheelchair tennis front row and <u>focused</u> on the games. They managed to have fun and make jokes with others around. The following day, the press and photos were sweet. Just comments on Meghan's ripped jeans. Other than that, it was pretty <u>safe</u>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry told his buddies his plans to propose. They gave their congratulations. Before doing <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>, Harry had to ask his grandmother for permission. He wondered if this rule was legit or fallacy; due to not knowing of other family members asking permission. It <u>suddenly</u> hit Harry that Charles asked permission for Camilla from his own mother. The rules stated that the <u>first</u> 6 in-line asked for permission. With a heart <u>full</u> of <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u>, a mouth <u>full</u> of dust, Harry turned to the calendar. With a friend's help, Harry circled a date in October. On a day that would enlighten and bring a smile to his grandmother, with his father and brother in tow, Harry wondered if he should tell of his intentions. But, he soon thought against it. William <u>already</u> warned him <u>not</u> to. He was pretty discouraging about Harry courting Meghan. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwiVm2WvFbYyWpR_XX4KGIDoX7D_PRzlZ18XYzCABCExwCH9s12pEcFyS9fJpMmX0_edkQscJ2r92LZulsB6HnDLXQJxb3n9Qy1ny_2JAn_qR2mPRcFedUsFo7H9kfOvJOr4jnhP-W7eJJF-hsNUQzoYz0hiSg88bzPdfTR8eQMNQ4np0Co83Yu5ERiRP/s1500/prince-charles-1-2000-0792c3ee31be4566873fd1813471ea94.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1033" data-original-width="1500" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwiVm2WvFbYyWpR_XX4KGIDoX7D_PRzlZ18XYzCABCExwCH9s12pEcFyS9fJpMmX0_edkQscJ2r92LZulsB6HnDLXQJxb3n9Qy1ny_2JAn_qR2mPRcFedUsFo7H9kfOvJOr4jnhP-W7eJJF-hsNUQzoYz0hiSg88bzPdfTR8eQMNQ4np0Co83Yu5ERiRP/s320/prince-charles-1-2000-0792c3ee31be4566873fd1813471ea94.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Charles always seen Meghan as "<i>that actress</i>". Actress sounded like a "<i>convicted felon</i>". William tried offering his brother advice. The conversation between them landed on finances. Harry turned to his brother <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">taken</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">aback</u> at what their father was saying. William's face was <b><u>completely</u> </b><u>blank</u>. Charles didn't support his boys out of langesse. He supported his boys with <u>loyalty</u> for payment for the Monarchy. Surrender their autonomy and remain in a golden cage of captivity at <b><u>all</u></b> times. Charles <u style="font-style: italic;">hinted</u> that Harry & Meghan were at a higher cost than the Monarchy could afford. Harry tried to appease to the situation. But, it suddenly <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIT</u> him that this situation wasn't about money. It was <u>more</u> about someone now dominating the Monarchy. New popular favorites outshine the Monarchy just as his mother had. Charles & Camilla had no interest in living through the memories of the past. Harry couldn't deal and had <u>no</u> <u>time</u> for petty jealousies and Palace intrigue. He was still trying to work out <u>exactly</u> what to say to his grandmother, and <u>the</u> <u>time</u> <u>had</u> <u>come</u>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry's mind was all over the place. But shooting on the property alleviated his mentality. <u>Focusing</u> on the next step, rather than the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SHOT</u> Harry was about to take. <u>Focusing</u> and hitting his targets. They broke for lunch. Harry tried, <u>repeatedly</u>, but he wasn't able to get her <u>solo</u>. So, Harry ate and bided his time with a <u>classic</u> royal shooting luncheon. A little tea, a drink or 2 then back to shooting. Throughout the day, Harry kept a mental check on his grandmother. She was good and locked in. After the final drive, the party scattered out and so did everyone else. When there was no <u>security</u>, Harry tried his shot.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry tried catching up to his grandmother, While they scanned the ground for dead birds, Harry tried to engage in light chat and loosen up the situation. <u>Not</u> helping the situation was Harry's <u>popping</u> subconscious. Overthinking the situation and <u>possible</u> outcome. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">imagine</u> being without Meghan. Nor could he be <u>openly</u> disobedient to those in <b><u>CHARGE</u>!</b> If she withheld permission, Harry's heart would <u style="font-style: italic;">break</u>. His grandmother wasn't known for changing her mind. So, <u>this</u> <u>moment</u> would either be the <u>beginning</u> of his life or the <u>end</u> of it. It would <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> depend on Harry's verbal delivery. If <u>that</u> wasn't enough to make Harry tongue-tied, there was <u>plenty</u> of press reports, sourced to "<i>the Palace</i>", that <u><i>some</i></u> of Harry's family didn't exactly "<i>approve</i>" of Meghan. Didn't fancy her <u>directness</u>. Didn't feel comfortable with Meghan's <u>strong</u> work ethic.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BReWOh3Ny71McME2xARpYI-MULRA8F_Tip1xfXhOlVqAOiyR-QnZCSCVhWtYgcAZ_mjVs4NK6UMAOBPFxSq3I5RhVCsu9McKqPzIJHQRLdwMRXcnNKy8Jn9pb2aiY0hcex7aes1fQ7HVEfXQNShXEAd_UNZMqplVhcX3m9qYhgYs_uLFElyeaQwpmDC7/s3262/queen-elizabeth-harry-today-inline-160324.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="3262" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BReWOh3Ny71McME2xARpYI-MULRA8F_Tip1xfXhOlVqAOiyR-QnZCSCVhWtYgcAZ_mjVs4NK6UMAOBPFxSq3I5RhVCsu9McKqPzIJHQRLdwMRXcnNKy8Jn9pb2aiY0hcex7aes1fQ7HVEfXQNShXEAd_UNZMqplVhcX3m9qYhgYs_uLFElyeaQwpmDC7/s320/queen-elizabeth-harry-today-inline-160324.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>They didn't appreciate Meghan's occasional questions. <u>Natural</u> and <u>curious</u> inquisitiveness deemed to be of impertinence. There were <u>quiet</u> and <u>quaint</u> whispers with <u>pervasive</u> unease regarding Meghan's race. Whispers and "<i>concern</i>" about whether Britain was "<i>ready</i>". Whatever that meant. Harry wondered if his request would make him the next Margaret. He thought of <u>all</u> of the moments Harry <u>needed</u> permission. His life seemed like an endless parade of permission. All leading to <u>this</u> <u>one</u>. Harry soon quickly-stepped</span><span style="text-align: left;"> after his grandmother and her dogs. His mind began to race.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry turned to face his grandmother. She seen a <u style="font-weight: bold;">look</u> on her grandson's face. Harry was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiously</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</u>. She was <u style="font-style: italic;">impatiently</u> waiting for him to speak. <u>Out</u> <u>with</u> <u>it</u>. So, Harry did! Asking his grandmother, <u style="font-style: italic;">The Queen</u>, permission to marry Meghan. Harry stood motionless... waiting. His grandmother's face was unreadible. She felt she <b><u>HAD</u> <u>TO</u> s</b>ay <u style="font-style: italic;">Yes</u>! Why <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAVE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u>? It soon <u>hit</u> Harry that, in her own way, that his grandmother said <u style="font-style: italic;">Yes</u>! <u>Granting</u> <u>permission</u>. After seeing her in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Range Rover</u>, Harry marched back to his father and brother. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry took a ring from Meghan's jewelry box and gave it to a designer was also the keeper of his mother's bracelets, earrings and necklaces; Harry asked for a ring to be created from one of the bracelets. He had <u>previously</u> cleared all of this <u>in</u> <u>advance</u> with William. William didn't even hesitate for one second, in giving it to Harry. He seemed to <u>like</u> Meghan. Harry recounted the times of dinner with his brother and sister-in-law on one of Meghan's visits, with Meghan cooking. Everything was <u>good</u>. William had a cold. He was sneezing and coughing. Meghan ran upstairs to get him some of her homeopathic cure-alls. <i>Oregano oil and tumeric</i>. William <u>seemed</u> charmed and unmoved. Although Kate stated she had <u>never</u> heard of said remedies. The evening went by <u>smoothly</u>. The only <u>possible</u> discordant note was the difference in which the ladies style of dressing. Along with the diamonds from the bracelet, Harry asked the designer to add a third - a blood-free diamond from Botswana. . . .for a <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">special</u> occasion.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAQ4zhCHtJMYRbCXGCr5106BKwntoIkWBoEqBDt3eRiYApDNc_t6-pmos-Rv9VLNHhvhePZD9NoUuR9cff43tbhxkiDvRsH5Xx2t4RmDD1-GLJniHDnxMbN-DtwWMeLt-YdkrXj7-T7kJEPLC2qAg6S4CDpB9aaRYmaIIY0G9xJ0cQnC92ENCMFG-DPNV/s1301/_99316575_hi043691457.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1301" data-original-width="976" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAQ4zhCHtJMYRbCXGCr5106BKwntoIkWBoEqBDt3eRiYApDNc_t6-pmos-Rv9VLNHhvhePZD9NoUuR9cff43tbhxkiDvRsH5Xx2t4RmDD1-GLJniHDnxMbN-DtwWMeLt-YdkrXj7-T7kJEPLC2qAg6S4CDpB9aaRYmaIIY0G9xJ0cQnC92ENCMFG-DPNV/s320/_99316575_hi043691457.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Harry opened a bottle of champagne - an old gift he'd been saving for an occasion. He led Meghan out to the garden. Cold night. They were wrapped in big coats. Harry set electric candles around a blanket. He wanted it to look like Botswana; where Harry <u>first</u> <u>thought</u> of proposing. Now, Harry knelt on his knees on the blanket. He eyes were <u>full</u> of tears. He brought the ring out of his pocket. Made his proposal. Harry was <u style="font-style: italic;">shivering</u>; his heart was <u style="font-weight: bold;">thumping</u>, his voice was unsteady, but she got the idea. In this mixed-up world, this pain-filled life. . . they did it. Harry & Meghan managed to find one another. Joyous tears and crying along with laughter. They headed for the house. They hurried inside, and finished their celebration in their cozy kitchen. It was November 4TH. Press got word 2 weeks later. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Ordinarily, Harry would've gone to Meghan's father first, asked for his blessing. But, her father, Thomas Markle, was a complicated man. He & Meghan's mother, Doria, divorced when she was 2, and thereafter she divided her time between them. Weekdays with Doria and weekends with Thomas. Then, for part of high school, she lived with Thomas <u>full</u>-<u>time</u>. They were that close. After college, Meghan traveled the world, but stayed in constant contact with her dad. In her 30s, she was still Daddy's Girl. She loved him, worried about him - his health and habits - often relied on him. Throughout her run on <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>, Meghan consulted him every week about the lighting; due to his Emmy-winning success as a lighting director in Hollywood. In recent years, he sort of disappeared and wasn't doing well at all after not working for a while. In every way, Meghan felt her father would never handle the psychological pressure that comes with being stalked by the press; now it was happening to him.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_5B8sER9TSU19byudpvUdqizUyRr-sIVfopPd0Uqxtnz2IJffJXyz5tzEaBwEDCYd8vqoRT5CqQfZy2oKb6JN_Nt_xMaAGAJr0UWHbTOnKAjasFYJH1NX5wSpHGstrurDKEIXJohGd9TahaOAZhwJxS7lvEM7XbLRVUFnEyZWzo5nfOHeNRE0jUMyw5t/s1100/abbey-north-side-c1820-havell.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="1100" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_5B8sER9TSU19byudpvUdqizUyRr-sIVfopPd0Uqxtnz2IJffJXyz5tzEaBwEDCYd8vqoRT5CqQfZy2oKb6JN_Nt_xMaAGAJr0UWHbTOnKAjasFYJH1NX5wSpHGstrurDKEIXJohGd9TahaOAZhwJxS7lvEM7XbLRVUFnEyZWzo5nfOHeNRE0jUMyw5t/s320/abbey-north-side-c1820-havell.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Westminster Abbey</td></tr></tbody></table>It was hard for both Harry & Meghan, while dealing with all of that, to <u style="font-weight: bold;">focus</u> on the details of a wedding. <u>Strangely</u>, <u style="font-style: italic;">the Palace</u> had trouble <u>focusing</u> as well. They wanted to get married <u>quickly</u> due to paps and papers. While waiting for a decree from on-high, from the royal decision-making apparatus, they went off on a ""<i>traditional engagement tour</i>" - traveling up/down the U.K. to introduce Meghan to the public. Crowds went <u style="font-style: italic;">wild</u> for her. On their return trip, Harry called his brother, asked for <u>advice</u> on where to get married. Harry told him they were thinking of <u style="font-style: italic;">Westminster Abbey</u>. William suggested otherwise. If Harry had it <u>HIS</u> way/if both of them did, they would've eloped. Barefoot in Botswana, with a friend officiating, <u>that</u> was Harry & Meghan's dream. But. . .it was up to the Monarchy.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNE7M-MNz-sZwEIBeSKPYtyi1RhLNNCPqRe3uMEqx_saCLctPZwNCTfUaoGagnHhjGqR8wuEiryDMmKlKZqQwQtEqgkwWQMdDwMD5aopojEOruZ9gDi8oWwPqWbVVuBT9J4OIAfqXvtgjBhsq4TyypqWx2tOnuwGF7fH1y9DprHPRLDgMZyDNWUrWiHMhv/s1284/rs539416_st_georges_chapel_showing_quire_stalls_wide_view_-_verticle-lpr.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1284" data-original-width="920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNE7M-MNz-sZwEIBeSKPYtyi1RhLNNCPqRe3uMEqx_saCLctPZwNCTfUaoGagnHhjGqR8wuEiryDMmKlKZqQwQtEqgkwWQMdDwMD5aopojEOruZ9gDi8oWwPqWbVVuBT9J4OIAfqXvtgjBhsq4TyypqWx2tOnuwGF7fH1y9DprHPRLDgMZyDNWUrWiHMhv/s320/rs539416_st_georges_chapel_showing_quire_stalls_wide_view_-_verticle-lpr.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>The Palace</u> returned with a date for Harry & Meghan's nuptials: May 2018. They were accepted for their location: <u style="font-style: italic;">St. George's Chapel</u>. With that settled, the family/brothers & sisters-in-laws made their <u>first</u> public outing with William & Kate. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Royal Foundation Forum</u>. February 2018. All 4 of them sat on a stage showing unity to the future of the Monarchy. Afterward, a journalist dubbed them <u style="font-style: italic;">The Fab 4</u>. Here we go. . . Days later, controversy. Something about Meghan showing support for the <u style="font-style: italic;">#MeToo Movement</u>, and Kate wasn't. . <i>.by their outfits</i>. It was a <b><u>TRULY</u> <u>BULLSHIT</u>!</b> story. But, it had Kate on edge, while putting her and everyone else, on notice that she was going to be <i>compared to</i> Meghan. All of this stemmed from the awkwardness of Meghan's asking to <u>politely</u> borrow Kate's lip gloss. Meghan forgot hers, worried she needed some, she asked for help. Kate grimaced when Meghan squeezed out some and applied it to her lips. Kate's grimace was <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticeable</u> and left a mark in the press. Turning a <u>small</u> bit into something <u style="font-weight: bold;">catastrophic</u>, Here we go <u>sorrowfully</u>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCI4qTFwRJKfHE15_Vg4ObjM5yF_iosxmGEe0TNs9Fd-XVoGEKJROKbq4Ja6amVxPEowWbP3hzF2-RTHEGcf_IUIRLdCCUlNgswERpGL6lPQP95CB38t4CBv24ezEmt7hNQ3EaW1Pku2RnM5u8Zo8JEJD_RikkGihJh294DcdlNIqPptqNjwYBXeg4PbUr/s1308/image.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="982" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCI4qTFwRJKfHE15_Vg4ObjM5yF_iosxmGEe0TNs9Fd-XVoGEKJROKbq4Ja6amVxPEowWbP3hzF2-RTHEGcf_IUIRLdCCUlNgswERpGL6lPQP95CB38t4CBv24ezEmt7hNQ3EaW1Pku2RnM5u8Zo8JEJD_RikkGihJh294DcdlNIqPptqNjwYBXeg4PbUr/w150-h200/image.jpeg" width="150" /></a></div>By royal decree, Harry's grandmother <u>approved</u> the marriage in 2018. Harry & Meghan were soon expanding their home responsibilities with animal adoptions from a friend's litter. They named her Pula. The Setswana word for rain. And <u>good</u> fortune. Many mornings, Harry found himself surrounded by loved ones, who loved him and depended on him. Harry thought he simply had no right for such good fortune in his life. Work challenges aside, <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">this</b> was happiness. Life is good. The decree of the wedding coincided uncannily with the airing of Meghan's farewell season of <u style="font-style: italic;">Suits</u>, in which her character, Rachel, was getting married. Art imitating life from one another. Harry & Meghan seen it <u>decent</u> for them to send her off in that fashion. That spring, the press was <u>quieter</u>. More focus on the <u>intricate</u> details of the wedding itself.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioF0y458KgYMbVCjBpcj9e9EVYvELxXlxzU3XrZMV2WsSuYgZTdATm08fpiUhFaxZi6lgqTxJMTvuZizCIUhLySdfHnqEVt1sL489qqAUajIhmc4vUP60UdWYpy0MEMUCfBTEv8svNWl4ecbAzLDDCh7Vo31JLoy0zh9VAHQWgrsMRcjqUlC1OjuVJOJmm/s801/88NzkxD7TzBjbUswAMY577.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="801" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioF0y458KgYMbVCjBpcj9e9EVYvELxXlxzU3XrZMV2WsSuYgZTdATm08fpiUhFaxZi6lgqTxJMTvuZizCIUhLySdfHnqEVt1sL489qqAUajIhmc4vUP60UdWYpy0MEMUCfBTEv8svNWl4ecbAzLDDCh7Vo31JLoy0zh9VAHQWgrsMRcjqUlC1OjuVJOJmm/s320/88NzkxD7TzBjbUswAMY577.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After all the stress of asking his grandmother for permission to marry Meghan, Harry thought he'd never have the <u>courage</u> to ask for anything else: <u>permission</u> to keep his beard for his wedding. A beard was a <u>clear</u> violation of normalcy and protocol. Beards were <u style="font-weight: bold;">forbidden</u> in the British Army. But, Harry was no longer in the Army and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">desperately</u> wanted to <u>hang</u> <u>onto</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u> that became an effective check on Harry's <i>anxiety</i>. Illogical but <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u>. Harry's beard became his security blanket. A beard as a Freudian mask. Hiding what we don't want seen. Either way, it made Harry feel <u>calm</u> and <u>clear</u> as possible for his wedding. Also, Meghan had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> seen Harry without it. Harry explained the <u>special</u> moments Meghan had of his beard to his grandmother. She <u>understood</u>. Harry was <u>permitted</u> to keep his beard. When Harry explained what happened to William, Harry gave him a quick history lesson of royals who were bearded and uniformed. Helpfully, Harry referred William to <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u>. When he informed him that his opinion <u>not</u> mattering, how Harry was pre-approved by their grandmother; William was <b><u>PISSED</u> <u>&</u> <u>LIVID</u>!</b> He <u>always</u> thought their grandmother had a soft spot for Harry. She <u>indulged</u> him; while holding William to an <u>impossibly</u> <u>high</u> standard. The heir, spare irked him. The argument went on, in person, for <u>more</u> than a week. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldn't</u> let it go. At one point, Harry was ordered by his brother, as the Spare to his Heir, to shave it. William was <u style="font-weight: bold;">PISSED</u> that he had to shave and didn't get to keep his beard. William was <u style="font-weight: bold;">LIVIDLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PISSED</u> about the differential treatment between the 2. Harry thought William was being ridiculous. But, William's anger <u style="font-weight: bold;">worsened</u>. Finally, Harry told him that his bearded brother was getting married. Like it or not.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxq4cpugDEFUX0Zbzvb1T7F3z-aD0VGjYKWJdeeiS54l4gJSFRP9FZS5MYVQMr95GxcQfuzhokxq_0AaKP5j9RNALIOdRnbcYr4r9f-AHjMIz2bMvI5mDJZ5B2TSHPUJvfnRr8MK6JwLrbauQw9L0RwUbvENucn9LtgFBf28fLh0Em_sekeX1i3FiyzEK/s3094/gettyimages-80082847-1522161868.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3094" data-original-width="1976" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxq4cpugDEFUX0Zbzvb1T7F3z-aD0VGjYKWJdeeiS54l4gJSFRP9FZS5MYVQMr95GxcQfuzhokxq_0AaKP5j9RNALIOdRnbcYr4r9f-AHjMIz2bMvI5mDJZ5B2TSHPUJvfnRr8MK6JwLrbauQw9L0RwUbvENucn9LtgFBf28fLh0Em_sekeX1i3FiyzEK/s320/gettyimages-80082847-1522161868.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>Harry showed up at his stag <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">party</u>. To laugh, to have a good time, to <u>clear</u> his mind of wedding stress. Yet, Harry also <u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> to be <b><u>too</u> </b>drunk, <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u> passed out and William, along with his buddies, would hold Harry down to shave him. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">explicitly</u> explained his plans. So, while having fun, Harry was also <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">times</u>. kept William <u>in</u> <u>his</u> <u>sight</u>. The stag party resided at a friend's house in the Hampshire northside. <u>NONE</u> of anywhere the press reported. Aside from his brother, 15 other buddies were in attendance. They were greeted with various boys toys: Giant boxing gloves. A mechanical bull. They rough-housed and painted their faces. After an hour, Harry was worn-out and relieved when lunch arrived.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">When everyone was bored of firing rifles, they dressed Harry as a <u>giant-ass</u> yellow feathered chicken and sent him downrange to shoot fireworks at him. <u>But</u>, Harry <u>offered</u> to do it. It reminded him of being at war. He wondered if William thought the <u>same</u>. Had they <u>truly</u> drifted apart as brothers? Or have they? Maybe they <u style="font-style: italic;">could</u> recapture it. Now that Harry was to be married.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Though the press was <u>mostly</u> laying off of Meghan, and staying <u>focused</u> on the wedding, the <u>damage</u> was done. After 18 months of trashing her, ever since they acknowledged being a couple, Harry & Meghan were <u style="font-weight: bold;">flooded</u> with racist taunts and death threats on social media. In pre-wedding conversations with police, Harry & Meghan learned they were <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the</u> prized target for terrorists and extremists. Harry remembers being called a bullet magnet. Anyone near him would be <u>unsafe</u>. Especially next to the person Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>in the world. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiixsXcXabuVhkC9TDbpcj9pzz5_nW-tbIRhpi9fzMtR9844w3SSp5GDxkPI_F3ZMrwBaNTxgU5j2cCsB6npL2y6C6pO2tPbRZaNcgdU1BkiVQjaqlcRgQ7fZ9V0IXZW4teI0IoOJWhCuvfabBfRrUxbBpgsuy8YWWTA0HAGu-y7_zNX9mIsZsDNKRUy6c/s750/959952.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="750" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiixsXcXabuVhkC9TDbpcj9pzz5_nW-tbIRhpi9fzMtR9844w3SSp5GDxkPI_F3ZMrwBaNTxgU5j2cCsB6npL2y6C6pO2tPbRZaNcgdU1BkiVQjaqlcRgQ7fZ9V0IXZW4teI0IoOJWhCuvfabBfRrUxbBpgsuy8YWWTA0HAGu-y7_zNX9mIsZsDNKRUy6c/s320/959952.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>On the eve of the wedding, Harry stayed at <u style="font-style: italic;">Coworth Park Hotel</u>. A private cottage. Several buddies sat and joined in having drinks. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">distracted</u> with business that pertained to the wedding. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">constant</u> worry of outside <u style="font-style: italic;">craziness</u> was amok. - Best not to talk about it from Harry's viewpoint. The press asked about William. Harry gave a non-answer. Another <u>sore</u> subject.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">William was scheduled to join for the evening. But, like Meghan's father, William cancelled last minute. He used Kate & the kids to get out of it. Harry <u>reminded</u> them of their <u>traditions</u>, having dinner prior to the wedding, and then off to visit the crowds. William held <u>fast</u>. He decided to do it. Harry <u>pushed</u>. He wondered <u>why</u> couldn't/wouldn't William reciprocate how Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u> for him when William tied the knot. Harry asked himself: <b><u style="font-style: italic;">What</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">was</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">truly</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">going</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">on</u>?</b> Was William feeling bad about not being Harry's best man? Was William <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">pissed</u> that Harry asked another? Was it guilt between future sister-in-laws? William gave <u>no</u> indication. He kept saying <u>no</u>!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">William asked why it mattered <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u>? Harry felt sick about it. Harry <b><u>always</u> </b><u>believed</u> that despite their brotherly problems, that their bond was <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u>. Harry thought the <u>bonds</u> of brotherhood would override everything else. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">what</u>. He thought <u>wrong</u>! Then, after leaving his grandmother around 6:00P, William texted changing his tune on coming. Harry showed <u style="font-weight: bold;">heartfelt</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">gratitude</u>. Moments later, as they departed, people wished them well and blew kisses. As they left, Harry invited his brother for a dinner; maybe a sleepover. Dinner was doable. But, William's kids kept Harry delayed his staying the night. Harry stood at the alter, smothered in his Household Cavalry uniform, watching Meghan float towards him. Harry worked hard to choose the <u>right</u> music for her procession; ultimately landing on <u style="font-style: italic;">Handel's Eternal Source Of Divine Light</u>. As the music played, Harry thought he chose <u>well</u>. As Meghan walked <u>closer</u>, Harry gave thanks for <u>all</u> of his choices. When she took his hand, the present dissolved and the past came rushing back. All of their <u>first's</u> since their relationship began. . . <i>The first time they</i>. . . And now, here they were. A finishing line that started a new one.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjMwLuqwGVF_vMeTQOIPUDzxkcWz43VCno8jCJNMrVbH_nidwvkpAcU-cW-K_lPlevV28-pn93jzWG7NB0qg17n-NVbkcGTY5QEpxykuwpqpUzZijWwxp52-k6zgnph5UCmomygNnJrzVlomQ9Y0NDu9K95fsocPa7iR-c95K6aqUGzvmyphjQEV_l_cl/s848/harrymeghanwedding-110-1671121005.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="687" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjMwLuqwGVF_vMeTQOIPUDzxkcWz43VCno8jCJNMrVbH_nidwvkpAcU-cW-K_lPlevV28-pn93jzWG7NB0qg17n-NVbkcGTY5QEpxykuwpqpUzZijWwxp52-k6zgnph5UCmomygNnJrzVlomQ9Y0NDu9K95fsocPa7iR-c95K6aqUGzvmyphjQEV_l_cl/s320/harrymeghanwedding-110-1671121005.jpeg" width="259" /></a></div>For the past few months, <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> went according to plan. But, then Harry took a step back and <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">none</u> of this were <u>the</u> <u>plan</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">This</u> was <u>the</u> <u>plan</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">This</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">love</u>. Harry shot a glance at his father, Charles, whom walked Meghan down the last half of the aisle. It may not have been <u>her</u> father, but it was special <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">same</u>. Harry's Aunt Jane stood and gave a reading in honor of Harry's mother. Something Harry & Meghan both cherished: <u style="font-style: italic;">Song Of Solomon</u>. Strong as death. Fierce as the grave. <u>YES</u>! <u>Exactly</u> what Harry was looking for. The Archbishop reached the <u>official</u> part; bestowing them the tales of setforth by his grandmother: <u style="font-style: italic;">The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex</u>. While they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>for their public near & far, live and on TV, Harry & Meghan's love story began in <u>private</u>, and being public had been <u>mostly</u> pain, so they wanted the <u>first</u> consecration of their love, the <u>first</u> vows to be <u>private</u> as well. As magical as the formal ceremony was . . . they were <u style="font-style: italic;">terrified</u> of crowds. Without underscoring this feeling, the first thing they saw upon walking back to the aisle and out of the church, other than smiling faces, were snipers. On the rooftops, amid the wall of streamers. Police said it was unusual, but <u>necessary</u>. Due to numerous threats picked up. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_lhef-9tFojbpZXvBLLWjh_JlYkzn7tSB8sc3IhNPwhzrtyckT1PBwip_3OvqMdLMKY6D7EpLHkXOxa1OPEVr3K-B2f4G-BmmmYuvFM3pQqPWNlXZCzGhDfok7ZjUT4K0NshbUk7iwr1jovfHV3tVCHumrs9Z9WMEhE3J195Rzv5D_qzOIj3joblfcsh/s1976/queen-elizabeth-meghan-markle.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1976" data-original-width="1976" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_lhef-9tFojbpZXvBLLWjh_JlYkzn7tSB8sc3IhNPwhzrtyckT1PBwip_3OvqMdLMKY6D7EpLHkXOxa1OPEVr3K-B2f4G-BmmmYuvFM3pQqPWNlXZCzGhDfok7ZjUT4K0NshbUk7iwr1jovfHV3tVCHumrs9Z9WMEhE3J195Rzv5D_qzOIj3joblfcsh/s320/queen-elizabeth-meghan-markle.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Their honeymoon was a <u>closely</u> guarded secret. Heading to the Mediterranean for 10 days. Glorious to be away, on the sea, in the sun. But they were also sick. The build-up to the wedding had <u style="font-weight: bold;">worn</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">them</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u>. They returned <u>just</u> <u>in</u> <u>time</u> for the <u>official</u> June celebration of Harry's grandmother's birthday; one of their <u>first</u> public appearances as newlyweds. <u>Everyone</u> <u>was</u> <u>present</u>. Good mood and upbeat. But then: Kate asked Meghan her thoughts of her <u>first</u> royal event. Meghan thought it was <u>colorful</u>; jokingly. Days later, Meghan <u style="font-style: italic;">nervously</u> went on her <u>first</u> royal trip with Harry's grandmother. She was <u style="font-style: italic;">nervous</u>, but they got along <u>famously</u> with their love of dogs. Meghan returned from the trip glowing. They had <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> bonded. Discussing and thinking things would turn around. The papers pronounced the trip an unmitigated disaster. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>, things went as harry's grandmother intended. If she said it, Meghan did it. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAj5qxmlUnkJE1uxHC52fjuVt8XZCRtpT5DO5sRM41uCzUYaviDHzIxtDLuWzpAx8nodN-SrANQYKyP9_tULMbtGM2AwyGaqHs3BxwY8NsNTo-H_GSCeRHaanwsXVTdaJeMSJhOVo1Jhxd20jAEIf1hl1N4VIJ4_bOWY5dZ96MICh-FbdQjT1hpcjXAMh/s750/1228006.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="750" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzAj5qxmlUnkJE1uxHC52fjuVt8XZCRtpT5DO5sRM41uCzUYaviDHzIxtDLuWzpAx8nodN-SrANQYKyP9_tULMbtGM2AwyGaqHs3BxwY8NsNTo-H_GSCeRHaanwsXVTdaJeMSJhOVo1Jhxd20jAEIf1hl1N4VIJ4_bOWY5dZ96MICh-FbdQjT1hpcjXAMh/s320/1228006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In June 2018, William & Kate invited Harry & Meghan for tea to clear the air. Meghan was taken aback with <u>WOW</u>! when they arrived. It was like a gorgeous museum. They informed them of it. Complimenting their <u>lavish</u> renovations, somewhat thinking about the differences in lifestyle. Lavish v. <u style="font-style: italic;">IKEA</u>. What was handed to William & Kate; Meghan had to personally pay for on credit cards for <u>their</u> home. All 4 sat in on opposing sides of the living room. There was an array of tea & biscuits, shooting the shit for about 10 minutes. Meghan then acknowledged the <u style="font-weight: bold;">tension</u> among the 4 of them and ventured that it might go back to those early days when Meghan first joined the family. Kate had thought Meghan wanted Kate's fashion contacts. But, Meghan had her own. There were things under the surface that Harry & Meghan <u>both</u> were unaware of what lied <u>underneath</u>. William & Kate were <u style="font-weight: bold;">apparently</u> <u>pissed</u> at not exchanging <i><u>Easter</u></i> gifts. Charles <u>always</u> made a big deal of holidays. This was a custom that Harry & William didn't grow up with. <u>But</u>, if William & Kate were <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">pissed</u>, Harry & Meghan apologized. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmve8ZUj52xIbzT-uI7xIvMPeBsPdVDEwdsT4a0f4ejvGKII9NpEZUoW8mVE9CVJ9LUqEu8R1BkwEzt6XOAgLh6B1Tuy9BIrVwvBGBIg0PgieQJ67BasvQfxjNHi5xfIoXsUUhbK8kkAQASIFsJ1CcbggPs0wgNScEPU6mfUxoXbNiZbBgrrmU_UPBku0W/s2000/Prince-William-and-Duchess-Kate-Relationship-With-Prince-Harry-and-Meghan-Markle.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1298" data-original-width="2000" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmve8ZUj52xIbzT-uI7xIvMPeBsPdVDEwdsT4a0f4ejvGKII9NpEZUoW8mVE9CVJ9LUqEu8R1BkwEzt6XOAgLh6B1Tuy9BIrVwvBGBIg0PgieQJ67BasvQfxjNHi5xfIoXsUUhbK8kkAQASIFsJ1CcbggPs0wgNScEPU6mfUxoXbNiZbBgrrmU_UPBku0W/w400-h260/Prince-William-and-Duchess-Kate-Relationship-With-Prince-Harry-and-Meghan-Markle.webp" width="400" /></a></div>For their part, Harry & Meghan chipped in that they weren't too pleased when William & Kate switched place cards and seat changed at the wedding. Harry & Meghan followed the <u>American</u> tradition, placing couples side-by-side, but William & Kate were opposed to that, so their table was the <u>only</u> one with couples sat solo. They "<i>insisted</i>" it <u>wasn't</u> them. It was purely blameshifting. They'd done it before at prior weddings. Harry & Meghan were <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> ones to do that; as much as they wanted to do it. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> made a fuss and followed wedding protocol rules. This situation wasn't getting anywhere or any better. Kate then proceeded to announce she had hurt feelings from Meghan, whom was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">unaware</u> of this. Kate had mentioned a phone call in which they'd discussed the timing of wedding rehearsals. She initiated that her memory was off due to baby brain. Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> understood, for which Meghan <u>tried</u> to be comforting to Kate. For which, Kate <u>rudely</u> turned down Meghan's <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u> concern for Kate's mental & physical health. Both ladies eyes <u style="font-weight: bold;">WIDENED</u>. Meghan was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINELY</u> confused. She presumed she could speak to Kate just as she was speaking to just another one of her girlfriends. William, <u>rudely</u>, pointed <u>directly</u> <u>at</u> Meghan. Assuring her one of the rules of Britain. Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">KINDLY</u> asked for William to remove his finger from Meghan's face. <b><i>Was this <u>truly</u> happening</i>? <i>Had things <u>truly</u> come to this</i>? <i>Shouting about some irrelevant bullshit subject matter</i>. . .</b> Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> intentionally would do anything do to hurt Kate. If she did, all she had to do was let Meghan know and she would've corrected it. They kind of hugged it out. Somewhat. From there, Harry thought they should exit the situation while they could. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Their team <u>sensed</u> the friction, read the newspapers, and thus heard the frequent bitching around the offices. Sides were taken <u style="font-style: italic;">Team Cambridge</u> V. <u style="font-style: italic;">Team Sussex</u>. Rivalry, jealously, competing agendas - all poisoned the atmosphere. They were only able to handle about 10% of the press. <u style="font-style: italic;">Nerves</u> were <u style="font-style: italic;">shattering</u>, people were sniping. Any feedback was seen as an attacked insult. For all of what transpired, more than one staff member slumped across their desk and wept. For <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of this, William lead <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> the blame on Meghan. He told his blame to Harry <u>several</u> times, and he got cross when Harry told him he was out of line. The strife <u>originated</u> from outside staff from their offices that <u>came</u> <u>between</u> their <u>brotherhood</u>. In the midst of <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of this, Meghan managed to <u>remain</u> calm. Despite the <u>surrounding</u> negativity, Meghan doubled down on spreading <u>positivity</u>. She sent out handwritten thank-you notes, checked on staff members who were ill, sent out food or whatever may be to whomever was sick or depressed or off sick. The office was <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u> and cold, so Meghan warmed it up with new lamps and space heaters, all bought with her <u>personal</u> credit card. She brought pizza & buscuits, hosted tea parties and ice cream socials. She shared the freebies she received; clothes, makeup with other ladies of the offices.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry stood in awe at Meghan's ability and determination, to see the <u>good</u> in people. There was a <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">moment </b>when Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> the size of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINITY</u> in Meghan's heart that she <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> was <b><u>GOOD</u> <u>PEOPLE</u> <u>LIVE</u>!</b> Harry felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">PRIDE</u> in Meghan. He felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">regretful</u> about his family feuding with his wife. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry & Meghan <u>didn't</u> <u>want</u> to wait. They were <u>both</u> wanting to start a family straightaway. They were both working crazy hours, their jobs were <u style="font-weight: bold;">demanding</u> their time, but their timing wasn't ideal. But, <u>too</u> <u>bad</u>. This was always their main priority. They worried about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">stress</u> of their daily lives, <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u> it might prevent pregnancy. The toll was taking up on Meghan. She was <u>constantly</u> losing weight, despite a <u>healthy</u> appetite. She <u>still</u> kept losing. A doctor <u style="font-weight: bold;">confirmed</u> that Meghan's weight loss contributed to a barrier of conceiving. She was instructed to gain 5LBS. to conceive. So, Meghan ate, <u>continuously</u>, to put in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessary</u> weight, looking hopeful at a calendar. Toward the end of summer 2018, they went to Scotland, <u style="font-style: italic;">The Catle Of May</u> to spend time with Charles.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry & Meghan talked during dinner about the job and stress they'd been under. If they could just convince the papers to back off.. . . for a little while. At tea the next day, the good vibes continued. They were talking and shooting the shit when the butler interrupted with a phone call. Charles was <u style="font-style: italic;">shocked</u> when the call was truly for Meghan. They were all <u style="font-weight: bold;">stunned</u>. She <u>tentatively</u> reached for the phone. It seemed as though Harry's grandmother was calling to talk about Meghan's father. Harry's grandmother was responding to a letter Meghan had written, asking for advice and help in the press' situation. She suggested Meghan <u>forget</u> the press, go see her father and talk sense into him. Meghan explained that her father lived in a Mexican border town and she didn't know how she'd get away from the press and papers safely and <u>quietly</u>. In that event, a letter would <u>safely</u> suffice. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Meghan was late. They bought 2 home pregnancy tests, one for backup and she took them <u>both</u> into the bathroom at <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>. Harry fell asleep whilst laying on the bed waiting for Meghan's results. When Harry woke up, there she was. . .waiting for them <u>both</u> to see the results. The sticks were on the nightstand. Harry only kept a few things there, among them was the blue box containing his mother's hair. Bringing them <u>both</u> luck. Harry reached for the sticks and seen the results. <u style="color: #2b00fe;">Blue</u>. Both of them. <u style="color: #2b00fe;">Blue</u> meant. . . Baby. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4LugV4BFm6beWRJWlwP2SKFvAkQMq9y7mJcG_9dzXOsp6m9sh30wvg2A1fWCx9I8-o3CwKOdq_h12t_7P8oKG48tiMnYI6xV063QJRMj1fayHBu5aN4WNZIH59FGG6uV9T7_ZxjbrITp-Kua5uc2-bSYemZqWZv6Zh_B0Y6CVsodrfDt4Sr9wJRQH9-G/s949/88d65ef7291800b94261e0539ee4295e.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4LugV4BFm6beWRJWlwP2SKFvAkQMq9y7mJcG_9dzXOsp6m9sh30wvg2A1fWCx9I8-o3CwKOdq_h12t_7P8oKG48tiMnYI6xV063QJRMj1fayHBu5aN4WNZIH59FGG6uV9T7_ZxjbrITp-Kua5uc2-bSYemZqWZv6Zh_B0Y6CVsodrfDt4Sr9wJRQH9-G/w270-h400/88d65ef7291800b94261e0539ee4295e.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div>Harry & Meghan were <u>both</u> overjoyed. Harry returned the sticks to the nightstand. Mentally thanking his mother for their miracle. Various family gathering connected to the wedding would give them a chance to pull aside family members one-by-one to expel their good news. In telling that Charles was going to be a grandfather for a 4TH time. Charles' wide grin <u>warned</u> him/Harry. After the drink reception, in <u style="font-style: italic;">St. George's Hall</u>, Meghan & Harry pulled William aside. Harry whispered the news, and William smiled. Insisting they tell Kate. So, they did. Kate gave a big smile and a <u>hearty</u> congratulations.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Days later, the pregnancy was <u>publicly</u> announced. The newspapers tried to diagnose what they thought were Meghan's symptoms. Meghan was tired, but was otherwise dynamic. She felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> not to be suffering <u style="font-weight: bold;">severe</u> morning sickness; since they were soon embarking on a hugely demanding tour. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u><b> </b><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">across</b> the international tour, Meghan dazzled. After one rousing speech, she got a standing ovation. Meghan was <u>so</u> <u>brilliant</u> that midway through the tour, Harry felt compelled to warn her. Harry was paranoid that his wife would suffer the <u>same</u> fate as his mother. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Everyone</u> knew of Diana's situation going from bad-to-worse when she showed the world and the family that she was better at touring, better at <u>connecting</u> with people, better at being "<i>royal</i>" than she needed to be. This was when things took a turn. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Outlandish</u> stories from <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u> from "<i>sources</i>" rolled in. "<i>Sources</i>" that <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> got it wrong. But, this felt <u>more</u> than wrong. Harry will <b><u>never</u></b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">forget</u> the look in Meghan's facial tone as she was <u>infuriated</u> by what was written. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry & Meghan arranged a second meeting with William & Kate. <u>This</u> <u>time</u> on <u>their</u> <u>home</u> <u>turf</u>. The early evening of December 10, 2018. They all gathered in their front annex cubicle, and this time there was <u>no</u> small talk. Kate was in a <u>NO</u> B.S. mood. Acknowledging the stories in the press about making Meghan cry were <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> false. Meghan appreciated Kate's apology, but wondered why William, Kate or their offices <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stood</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u> for them in the press. Kate was flustered with no answer. William chimed in with some <u>very</u> supporting surrounding evasions; but they <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. what had <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> happened between these ladies? What the world doesn't know could embarrass the future queen. The monarchy, <i><u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">costs</u></i>, had to be protected. They tried to find the source of the gossip. They went around/around. The list was getting smaller. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Finally. <i>Finally</i>. William conceded that whilst, Harry & Meghan, were on tour in Australia, William & Kate went to dinner with Charles & Camilla. . .and alas, <u>admitted</u> he "<i>might've</i>" let it slip there was strife between the couples .. . </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry put out his hand over his mouth. Meghan froze. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">heavy</u> silence fell. So now they knew. Harry <u>confronted</u> William. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SHOULD'VE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWN</u>. <u>More</u> silence. It was time for them to go/leave. It just kept on-and-on. It filled Harry with <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">rage</u>. This same media <u>recently</u> swooned over Kate while having <u style="font-weight: bold;">such</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">disregard</u> for Meghan. Someone had it <u>in</u> <u>for</u> Meghan. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> what they printed. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> what Harry and-or-Meghan did. . . they <u>couldn't</u> win. Harry & Meghan had outgrown their residence in <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>. It was charming. But small. And falling down around their heads. It was so bad that one day Harry had to phone his Grandmother. They <u>needed</u> a new place to live. Harry explained that William & Kate had previously been in the <u>same</u> boat prior to their present situation as them. They too had fled it due to all of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">required</u> repairs, and the lack of room and now they were in the <u>same</u> boat. With 2 dogs and a baby on the way. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry explained that they'd discussed their housing situation at the Palace, and they'd been offered several properties, but <u>each</u> was $2,000. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Too</u> lavish. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Too</u> expensive to renovate. Harry's grandmother thought about it and came back to the conversation. She offered them <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore Cottage</u>. Harry <u>knew</u> it well. Sort of tucked away. Part of Royal history. Harry & Meghan loved the gardens at <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore</u>. They went walking there often and near. They went that day, and his grandmother was right. The house spoke to <u>both</u> of them. Charming. Full of potential. Harry rang his grandmother and <u style="font-weight: bold;">profusively</u> thanked his grandmother. With her permission, they got to work on what needed done. With the work-in-progress, they thought they could move into <u style="font-style: italic;">Oxfordshire</u> full time. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> it there. Harry & Meghan were able to call upon the talents of Charles' long-time butler whom <u>knew</u> the <i><u>Oxfordshire</u></i> residence and how to turn a house into a home. Plus, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">history</u> of the home with Diana. Meghan adored this man and vice versa. Harry thought it could be the start of something new/good. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> ally in their corner. Next thing you know, press got wind of the <i><u>Oxfordshire</u></i> plans, thus ending that dream. Shit!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Harry walked home from the office and found Meghan sitting on the stairs. She was <b><u>uncontrollably</u> </b><u>sobbing</u>. Harry met her on his knees. She choked out that she was feeling suicidal. Harry didn't catch her drift at first. He <u>didn't</u> <u>understand</u>. Maybe he didn't <u>want</u> to. Harry's mind <b><u>couldn't</u> </b> process it. The words. It was <u>all</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">so</b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">painful</u>. To be <u style="font-weight: bold;">hated</u> in this manner. She <u>truly</u> wanted to know. Meghan just wanted to make the pain <u>STOP</u>! Not just for her, but for everyone. But she <u style="font-style: italic;">couldn't</u> make it stop. So, Meghan <u>wanted</u> to <u>disappear</u>. Her perspective was that without her, the press would go away. Harry wouldn't have to live like this. Their unborn child would never have to live like this. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">begged</u> her to not talk in a suicidal fashion. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">promised</u> her they'd get through it. They would find a way. In the meantime, they would find a way to <u>help</u> Meghan. He asked her to <u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u>, hang on!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Incredibly, whilst <u>comforting</u> and reassuring Meghan, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u> thinking like a <u>fucking</u> royal. They had a pressing engagement they <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> be late for. Slowly - too slowly - Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> that tardiness was the least of their worries. He <u>assured</u> Meghan that he would make a <u>quick</u> appearance and return home <u>fast</u>. <u>No</u>! Meghan insisted that she didn't trust herself alone with such <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u> feelings. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">So, they put on their best dressed, and Meghan applied <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u><b>, </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u> lipstick to draw from her <span style="color: red;">bloodshot </span>eyes. As they stepped into the <span style="color: #2b00fe;">blue flashing</span> lighted escort of the police and the press' flashbulbs, Meghan reached for Harry's hand. She gripped it <u style="font-weight: bold;">tightly</u>. As they went inside, Meghan gripped even <u style="font-weight: bold;">tighter</u>. Harry was taken aback at how <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> Meghan gripped his hand. Better to hang on rather than letting go. <u>But</u>, when they settled into the royal box, and the lights dimmed, Meghan emotionally <u>broke</u>! She <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> hold back her tears any longer. She wept <u>silently</u>! Harry & Meghan spent the <u>entire</u> length of <u style="font-style: italic;">Cirque Du Soleil</u> squeezing one another's hand. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">promised</u> to keep her safe.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpcj3Dx8dHW4LeqZSsSDmJyljHhV_WwSz08-Uf73Zi67qRBtgq674d3iD9tTlOnDgr7WNJ3o_YPZE-EzmEMTW_Q1DIvr9gl5kCe7MSWz6PQK3y557kMtbYtFR9kbS8MZlJgn1QqlrXafpS1yIyess23JhRGbtKQucP6TMZ_As5NIcuouoUoDwJ23e3uFK/s592/ggb11.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="592" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpcj3Dx8dHW4LeqZSsSDmJyljHhV_WwSz08-Uf73Zi67qRBtgq674d3iD9tTlOnDgr7WNJ3o_YPZE-EzmEMTW_Q1DIvr9gl5kCe7MSWz6PQK3y557kMtbYtFR9kbS8MZlJgn1QqlrXafpS1yIyess23JhRGbtKQucP6TMZ_As5NIcuouoUoDwJ23e3uFK/s320/ggb11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Harry awoke to a text informing him that <u style="font-style: italic;">The Mail</u> had printed a <u>private</u> letter Meghan had written to her father. The letter that Harry's grandmother & father <u>urged</u> her to write. February 2019. Harry was in bed. Meghan was still asleep. He waited a bit then broke the <u style="font-style: italic;">Daily Mail</u> news to her. Softly. At the moment, Harry was <u>decisive</u>. About Mr. Markle., but also about the press. At that moment, Harry had had <b><u>ENOUGH</u>!</b> The newspapers <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it was illegal to publish <u>private</u> letters. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> that Meghan didn't have the staunch support of Harry's family. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Meghan was defenseless. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Meghan's only recourse was to sue, and she couldn't do that to the lawyer being under the tutilege of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u>, and <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> would <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> authorize him to act on Meghan's behalf. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> in the letter to be ashamed of, A daughter wishing her father behaved <u>appropriately</u>. Meghan <u>stood</u> <u>by</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> word. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> the letter could've been intercepted by <b><u>ANYONE</u>!</b> Anything was possible. But, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> saw/thought her father could've been the culprit. The way the press would cut and divy up the <u>innocent</u> letters and make them <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u>. The pain was confounded 10xby the simulations interviews with <u>alleged</u> experts who <u style="font-weight: bold;">analyzed</u> her letters. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The look on Meghan's face as Harry told her about this rolling out. . .Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> his way around grief, <u>no</u> <u>mistaking</u> <u>it</u>, this was <b><u>pure</u> </b>grief. Meghan was mourning the loss of her own innocence. Meghan whispered to Harry that she'd taken a handwriting class in high school, and as a result had excellent penmanship. People complimented her. She even used this skill in college to earn spare money. She inscribed various invitations for others to pay the rent. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> was ashamed or of consciousness to <u>think</u> first. . . then write about Meghan later. If they didn't sue over <u style="font-style: italic;">this</u>, what signal would they send? So, they conferred with <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> lawyer. Harry & Meghan were given the runaround. He reached out to William & Charles. They'd both reached out to the press in the past over invasions and lies. <u>Both</u> of them were <u style="font-weight: bold;">vehemently</u> opposed to the idea of Harry & Meghan taking legal action. Harry asked <u style="font-style: italic;">Why</u>? After they hemmed/hawwed, the <u>only</u> answer was that it simply wasn't advisable. <i style="font-weight: bold;">You would think that Harry </i><b>&</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> Meghan were suing a friend of the Royal Family</i>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">William had asked for a meeting. He wanted to talk about <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u>, the <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> ongoing situation. Just a meeting between brothers. As it happened, Meghan was out of town, visiting friends, so Harry invited William for some brotherly time. An hour after walking in <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u>, William hadn't seen Meghan since they first moved in. William looked <b><u>EXTREMELY</u> <u>PISSED</u>!</b> in his face. It was early evening. Harry offered his brother a drink. He asked him about the family. Everyone was good. William <b><u>rudely,</u> <u>never</u> </b>asked Harry about his family. William just went <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u>. Laying <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> on the table. Saying Meghan was <u>difficult</u>. William <i>claimed</i> Meghan was rude. Abrasive. <i>Claiming</i> that Meghan was alienating half the Royal Staff.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">That <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> the first time William parroted the press' narrative. Inciting Meghan was "<i>Duchess Difficult</i>", all that bullshit, rumors, lies from William's team, tabloid bullshit, and Harry informed him. Harry expected <u>more</u> from his older brother. Harry was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shocked</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">actually</u> see William <u>this</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">super</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">pissed</u>. <b><i>Did William <u>actually</u> think Harry would not stand up for his wife and stand by her side</i>?</b> Harry told William to take a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> breath, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> ask himself to take a look inside himself and the institution they both grew up in? Harry suggested they cut Meghan some slack. Maybe help her. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">William had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">interest</u> in a debate. He had to come to <u>lay</u> <u>down</u> <u>the</u> <u>law</u>. William wanted Harry to side with him and "<i>do something</i>" with Meghan. Harry didn't know how he was to respond to William's request. William didn't either. Nor was William's rationality correct. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u> Harry tried to slow William down. point out the logistics in William's words, William got <u style="font-weight: bold;">louder</u>. Then talking lead to shouting. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TeiJvnF_5LoJdeyLeimq0lgNZ8U_fbZ1E5ZJAwTOHF0REr0EFDG2rgCRFw03gtrlAS99rcc_t-c8KPBxAPAolUd3rrv4XUhvXT_X5b2WIoUkCctgg7kfR5pvG_4rEXwfXWMM-xIeWCdsmNu97kXsPJrH0aiCnH8h3Fr7uNebDOwI7FBqNH0AW3aezwSB/s1200/2000.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TeiJvnF_5LoJdeyLeimq0lgNZ8U_fbZ1E5ZJAwTOHF0REr0EFDG2rgCRFw03gtrlAS99rcc_t-c8KPBxAPAolUd3rrv4XUhvXT_X5b2WIoUkCctgg7kfR5pvG_4rEXwfXWMM-xIeWCdsmNu97kXsPJrH0aiCnH8h3Fr7uNebDOwI7FBqNH0AW3aezwSB/s320/2000.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Out of <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of the <u>emotion</u> that William showed that afternoon, one <b><u>truly</u></b> jumped out at Harry. William <u style="font-style: italic;">seemed</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">to</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">imply</u> that Harry wasn't merely disobeying him; defying him, denying his brother's knowledge that came from Royal Aides. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">audacious</u> to <u>not</u> follow protocol. William was in <b><u>FULL</u> </b><u style="font-style: italic;">Heir</u> mode, and <b><u>couldn't</u> </b>fathom why Harry wasn't following suit of being <u style="font-style: italic;">The Spare</u>. Harry was sitting on a sofa. William was standing <u>over</u> his brother. Harry wanted him to listen. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u>. Calling his brother, Harry, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> outside of Harry's name. William stated that Harry refused responsibility for what was happening. Stating Harry was careless about Royal Offices and staff. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to speak with William, and William was cutting him off, "<i>saying</i>" he was trying to help. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> what William was getting at. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>set William <b><u>OFF</u>!</b> William <u>sized</u> Harry <u>up</u>. Swearing along the way. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At first, Harry felt a bit uncomfortable, but <u>now</u> he felt a bit <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u>. Harry stood up, brushed past him, went to the kitchen sink. William was <u>right</u> <u>on</u> Harry's <u>heels</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">bitching</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>and <u>shouting</u>. Harry poured himself a glass of water and one for William. He handed it to him. He sat his water down, called Harry out of his name again, then proceeded to come at Harry. William grabbed Harry by the collar, ripping Harry's necklace and knocking him on his ass. Harry landed <u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u> the dog's bowl, which cracked under Harry's back; with the pieces <u style="font-weight: bold;">cutting</u> into Harry's back. Harry lay there for a minute, dazed, then he got on his feet and told William to get out of his home. William was <u>insisting</u> Harry fight back like they were kids. Only; Harry <u>refused</u>. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Knowing</u> it would only make William feel better to respond. Harry insisted on William's departure. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzx9dPsHcTCOVzf4hetzm3Ab6Unn0ByULxS9IHhmfwpQJC584xAw8i79fyFHtr4RESmNXs7RrNnY1lgKZEYc1P7NDWT3UvpS-nGfxwbQpjU261r8J8FGVLI-6JU-QZEr0wbWTMub4E8Y52Y5CkqxAQVz8GI2fVx2tKPrltHsEf8_gDPAtt3spOz3WNpGvm/s1200/1201.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzx9dPsHcTCOVzf4hetzm3Ab6Unn0ByULxS9IHhmfwpQJC584xAw8i79fyFHtr4RESmNXs7RrNnY1lgKZEYc1P7NDWT3UvpS-nGfxwbQpjU261r8J8FGVLI-6JU-QZEr0wbWTMub4E8Y52Y5CkqxAQVz8GI2fVx2tKPrltHsEf8_gDPAtt3spOz3WNpGvm/s320/1201.webp" width="320" /></a></div>William left the kitchen. Not <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Nottingham Cottage</i>. Harry <u>could</u> <u>tell</u> William was in the living room. Harry stayed in the kitchen. William was <u style="font-weight: bold;">regretful</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">apologized</u> 2 minutes later. William walked out the front door. This time Harry followed. William wanted to keep this fight between brothers and of William's <u>personal</u> physical attack on Harry. Harry <u>stated</u> he would keep it between them. William thanked him and <u>left</u>. A promise is a promise. So, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">kept</u> his word. <u style="font-weight: bold;">But</u>, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to speak with <u style="font-style: italic;">someone</u>. So, he called his therapist. Thank God, she answered. Harry apologized for the intrusion. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> else to call. He informed his therapist of what went down with William and showed her the evidence. They'd fought before as brothers, but <b><u>nothing</u></b> like this. This was <u>different</u>. The therapist told Harry to take some <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> breaths. Asking him to describe what happened <u>multiple</u> times. Each time Harry did, it seemed like a bad dream. And it made Harry a bit calmer. Harry felt <u>proud</u> of himself. He <u>didn't</u> respond and hit William back. He stayed <u>true</u> to himself. He <u>never</u> told this to Meghan. But, not long after she returned from her trip. She seen Harry coming out of the shower, and gasped. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> lie to her. Meghan <u>wasn't</u> that surprised. She <u>wasn't</u> angry. Just. . . <u>terribly</u> sad. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Soon after that <u>particular</u> day, it was announced that the 2 royal households; <u style="font-style: italic;">Cambridge</u> & <u style="font-style: italic;">Sussex</u>, would <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> share an office. They would <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> be working together in any capacity. The reaction was about as expected. The <u>most</u> disheartening response was from Harry's <u>own</u> family. <u>Silence</u>. They never commented <u>publicly</u>, never saying anything <u>privately</u> to Harry. He never heard from his grandmother. It made Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THINK</u>; about the <u>silence</u> that <u>surrounded</u> both he & Meghan. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> that that. Just because everyone in his family doesn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">explicitly</u> condemn press attacks, it didn't mean they <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">condoned</u> them either. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It <u style="font-weight: bold;">suddenly</u> hit Harry. <b><u>Everything</u></b> Harry was taught growing up believing about his family, about the monarchy, about the <u>essential</u> fairness, the job of unity and <u>not</u> dividing was being called into question. If there was <b><u>no</u> <u>actual</u> </b><u>family</u> <u>unity</u> and/or defending one another. . . what were they? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry & Meghan moved their office into <u style="font-style: italic;">Buckingham Palace</u> and relocated their <u>finished</u> home to <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore Cottage</u>. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> that place. From the <u>first</u> minute. They felt <u>destined</u> to live there. What they thought were to have been <u>forever</u> homes. Toward the end of April 2019; days before Meghan was due to give birth, William called. Harry took the call in their new garden. Something happened between he, Charles & Camilla. Harry <u>couldn't</u> get the <u>entire</u> story. William was talking <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fast</u>, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u> upset and Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't </u>comprehend. William was <u>actually</u> seething. Harry gathered that Charles & Camilla were the catalyst as to why. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">putting</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u> with it <b><u>ANYMORE</u>!</b> <i>Give Charles & Camilla an inch</i>. . . <i>they'd take a mile. They'd done this to Willliam</i> <i>for the <u>last</u> time</i>. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">understood</u> his brother's frustrations. But, it <u>wasn't</u> technically Charles & Camilla. It was their communications team assuring <u>good</u> press for them and <u>negative</u> press for Harry & Meghan. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry believed the stories were being offered as a <u>straight</u> swap, in exchange for <u>greater</u> access to Charles, and also as a reward for the suppression of stories about Camilla's son. Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">livid</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>that this was happening to Meghan, but he had to admit it was happening <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> often to William. And he was <u>justifiably</u> incandescent. William had <u>already</u> confronted Charles once about this situation, face-to-face. Harry went along for moral support. William <u>laid</u> <u>it</u> <u>on</u> to their dad. Charles <u>instantly</u> got pissed. He <u>invoked</u> that William was paranoid. They <u>both</u> were. Just because Harry & Meghan were getting <u>bad</u> press, and William received <u>good</u> press; it didn't mean staff <u style="font-style: italic;">was</u> behind it. <u>But</u>, they indeed had <u>proof</u>! Reporters, inside <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">actual</b><b> </b>newsrooms assuring them they were being sold out. Charles <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u> to listen. His response was curlsih and pathetic.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry was elated and <u>glad</u> that William could confide to him about their father and Camilla, even after what they <u>recently</u> went through. Seeing an opportunity to address their <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">tensions</b>, Harry <u>tried</u> to connect what Charles and Camilla had done to William with what the press had done to Meghan. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">snapped</u>: He had <u>different</u> issues with Harry & Meghan. <u>In</u> <u>the</u> <u>blink</u> <u>of</u> <u>an</u> <u>eye</u>, William released <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of his rage of Harry. Harry didn't <u>comprehend</u> his brother's <u>exact</u> words, due to being <b><u>beyond</u> <u>tired</u> <u>&</u></b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">exhausted</u> from their fighting - and Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">focused</u> on the imminent birth of their first child. But, it was something Harry will <b><u>NEVER</u> <u>FORGET</u>!</b> William was going on-and-on and Harry lost the thread. He <u>couldn't</u> understand and <u>stopped</u> trying. Harry fell silent, waiting for William to subside. Then, Harry looked back. Meghan was coming from the house, <u>directly</u> toward him. Harry <u>quickly</u> took the phone off speaker, but she already heard. William was being <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fucking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">loud</u>. The tears were flowing from Meghan's face & eyes. Harry <u>tried</u> to say something, but Meghan declined his help. Holding her stomach, Meghan turned back to the house. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Zr-t54oMI8d-UUYKjnA-1LcUSdqhUm_91osAbX09FVdJAuB6jcW8BDSIEAZznqXF9FT2LnO4F9D8fsYkdg7xWHqVKchoRupApNKg5zUaOvXsY6A1y15tfz4B7W-LMerYFCubuGKYIU3GkHruxsPJLVeE4p7u7gFNc8-bt5OkH6KZOc_qoohodJ3YkdKc/s1942/V-PH%20logo-CMYK(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="826" data-original-width="1942" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Zr-t54oMI8d-UUYKjnA-1LcUSdqhUm_91osAbX09FVdJAuB6jcW8BDSIEAZznqXF9FT2LnO4F9D8fsYkdg7xWHqVKchoRupApNKg5zUaOvXsY6A1y15tfz4B7W-LMerYFCubuGKYIU3GkHruxsPJLVeE4p7u7gFNc8-bt5OkH6KZOc_qoohodJ3YkdKc/s320/V-PH%20logo-CMYK(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Doria was staying with Harry & her daughter, waiting for the arrival of the baby. Everyone stayed close and didn't stray far. Going on the occasional walk to excel the process. When Meghan was a week <u>past</u> her due date, the communications team and <u style="font-style: italic;">the Palace</u> began pressuring Harry on the baby's arrival. The press was also bringing <u>pressure</u> for an arrival. <u>DAMN</u>! Meghan's doctor tried various homeopathic ways to get things going & moving, but to <u>no</u> <u>avail</u>. After waiting <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiously</u> for a result, to make sure nothing was wrong; they decided to go to the hospital and <u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">prepared</u> for a just in case. They got into a nondescript people-carrier and crept-away from <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore Cottage</u> without alerting <u>any</u> of the journalists stationed at the gates. It was the <u>least</u> suspecting vehicle they'd be riding in. A short time later, Harry & Meghan arrived at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Portland Hospital</u> and they were spirited into a secret life, then a private room. Their doctor walked in, talked it through with them, and said it was time to induce labor.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlvoVe4UvwKvFwXMdufy-6YaqFgCYx-jJVu0iB5uFKXvJEJS_gyXXpiIy7jdthMxWyZ2FuF21IGoNpTam5ir_134lZt266VqrMbCW1hX08Fc7H5XU4Q2TGdebxOJBhC6sAgbYo8uw7EMWLzkRsFbg53b983tP6mPFzLtdad3ZH2tZQuqyKpM3NFy_KnZL/s2600/Nandos-Logo.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1750" data-original-width="2600" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKlvoVe4UvwKvFwXMdufy-6YaqFgCYx-jJVu0iB5uFKXvJEJS_gyXXpiIy7jdthMxWyZ2FuF21IGoNpTam5ir_134lZt266VqrMbCW1hX08Fc7H5XU4Q2TGdebxOJBhC6sAgbYo8uw7EMWLzkRsFbg53b983tP6mPFzLtdad3ZH2tZQuqyKpM3NFy_KnZL/w200-h134/Nandos-Logo.png" width="200" /></a></div>Meghan was <i>so</i> <i>calm</i>. So was Harry. <u>But</u>, Harry seen <u>2</u> ways of <i>enchancing</i>, his <u style="font-style: italic;">calm</u>. One: <u style="font-style: italic;">Nando's Chicken</u> (<i>Brought by their bodyguards</i>) Two: A canister of laughing gas beside Meghan's bed. Harry took <u>several</u> slow, penetrating hits. Meghan was bouncing on an exercise ball as a way to excel her labor and laughing. Harry took <u>several</u> slow, penetrating hits. Meghan was bouncing on an exercise ball as a way to excel her labor and laughing. Harry took <u>several</u> <u>more</u> hits and now Harry was bouncing as well. When Meghan's contractions began to worsen and <u style="font-weight: bold;">deepen</u>, a nurse came and tried to give some laughing gas to Meghan. Both Harry & Meghan <u>used</u> <u>it</u> <u>all</u> <u>up</u>! The nurse could <u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> what Harry had done. Harry meekly apologized. Everyone <u>laughed</u> at the situation, and changed the canister. Meghan climbed into a bath. Harry turned on soothing music. In their overnight bag, they had the <u>same</u> electric candles =. Harry had arranged in the garden the night of his proposal. Now, Harry placed them around the hospital room. He sat a framed photo of his mother on a little table. Meghan's idea. Time passed with minimal dilation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Meghan was doing a lot of <u>deep</u> breathing for pain. Then the <u>deep</u> breathing <u>stopped</u> working. She was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> pain that she <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> an epidural. The anesthetic <u>hurried</u> in. <u>Off</u> went the music, <u>on</u> went the lights. A total vibe change. The injection went to the base of her spine. <u>Still</u> the pain <u>didn't</u> <u>let</u> <u>up</u>. The doctor came back and did it again. Now, things are both quieted and accelerated. Meghan's doctor returned 2 hours later, slipped both hands into rubber gloves. Harry stationed himself at the head of the bed, holding Meghan's hand, encouraging her. The doctor gave Meghan a small hand mirror. Harry <u>tried</u> not to look, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u> to. Harry glanced, seen a reflection of the baby's head emerging. It was stuck. Tangled. Things were getting <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> and Meghan <u>needed</u> to push. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry didn't tell Meghan why. About the <u>possibility</u> of a C-Section. Meghan gave <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> she had. Harry seen the <u>life</u> of his newborn baby. It all <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> begins a struggle for freedom. A nurse swept the baby into a towel, placed him on Meghan's chest and they <u>both</u> cried at the <u>arrival</u> of their baby boy. Their doctor had advised them that, in the first minute of life, a baby absorbs <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> around them. Talk & whisper to the baby.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYec3TNSX6cJ-CssfjmTTpFlqlAlqizaMi_2DQKQfsaLAGnXTxzCWDBlXwkMBcP2W9d4ttqxA7gfRYcoe38r3x6p3JcswAcSCF0Iol9fKZPQoAT4ZCmml2hG7ebA0i7ozsuzCglYj-4JfyogmvY9bE9IPZG9dgEYBy2o-luPTAPMfbHEd2JIPCMLV7nPH/s3408/gettyimages-1142161983.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2556" data-original-width="3408" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYec3TNSX6cJ-CssfjmTTpFlqlAlqizaMi_2DQKQfsaLAGnXTxzCWDBlXwkMBcP2W9d4ttqxA7gfRYcoe38r3x6p3JcswAcSCF0Iol9fKZPQoAT4ZCmml2hG7ebA0i7ozsuzCglYj-4JfyogmvY9bE9IPZG9dgEYBy2o-luPTAPMfbHEd2JIPCMLV7nPH/s320/gettyimages-1142161983.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry doesn't remember calling anyone, texting them. He remembers watching the nurses run tests on his <u>newborn</u> 1hr-old son, and then they were out of there, and out of the hospital. Within 2 hours of their son being born, they were back at <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore</u>. The sun had risen and they were behind closed doors before the announcement was released. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">Truth</u> didn't matter. It was all <i>the Show</i>. After a few hours, Harry was standing outside the stables at <u style="font-style: italic;">Windsor</u>, telling the world of his son's arrival. Days later, they announced the name to the world: Archie Harrison Mountbatten-Windsor. The papers were incensed. Harry & Meghan pulled a <u>fast</u> one. After what they lived through for the last 3 years, and the press <u>expect</u> kindness? In the end, the press showed what kind of people they <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> were with their racist post - a man and a woman holding hands with a chimpanzee and an <u style="font-weight: bold;">awful</u> caption to boot:<u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Baby Leaves Hospital</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70ml5kyIMptdhhzIc9P_q7bSjr1sPWAqERUgUzysDlD_KzthZcWlE21zOd26y7sVaEBsX6SARqdJEUpFwrlAn3yUZPaqWySoMQiGQiq5Z1Rw2VSMqeDNH0VK0C31qep_GaQ7Xn9vVp4Ym6FYvqgSBPmVCFViLJbyjPLNLKA7R2iPojFaPsmiZQM8_w4t0/s2400/prince-harry-archie-diana-mc-main-v2-210521.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="2400" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70ml5kyIMptdhhzIc9P_q7bSjr1sPWAqERUgUzysDlD_KzthZcWlE21zOd26y7sVaEBsX6SARqdJEUpFwrlAn3yUZPaqWySoMQiGQiq5Z1Rw2VSMqeDNH0VK0C31qep_GaQ7Xn9vVp4Ym6FYvqgSBPmVCFViLJbyjPLNLKA7R2iPojFaPsmiZQM8_w4t0/s320/prince-harry-archie-diana-mc-main-v2-210521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Harry had a long tea with is grandmother, prior to her departure, for <u style="font-style: italic;">Balmoral</u>. He recapped her on the latest in his life. She knew a little bit, but Harry filled in the gaps. She was <u style="font-style: italic;">shocked</u> and <u>appalled</u>. Harry's grandmother <u>vowed</u> to send <u>scores</u> of courtiers to consolidate the situation. Harry & Meghan were on the phone with Elton John and his husband, David. They <u>confessed</u> they needed help. Harry &Meghan were both on the verge of losing their shit. Elton invited them to their home in France in 2019. So, they did. For a few days, they sat on the terrace and <u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u>. The atmosphere and comradeie. Freedom of any kind, in <u>any</u> measure, had come to feel like a scandalous luxury. To be out of the fishbowl of royalty for even an afternoon felt like a release from prison. One afternoon they took a scooter ride with David, around the local bay, down the coastal road. Harry was driving. Meghan was in the back and <u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u>. They waved back to passersby and smiled at the environment on the job. The <u>best</u> part of the job was watching Elton & David and their 2 boys fall in love with Archie. Often Harry would catch Elton <u>studying</u> Archie's face and <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> Elton could <b><u>see</u></b> his friend and Harry's mother, Diana, in Archie's face. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> where Elton was coming from. . . .he saw it himself. Time and again, Harry seen an expression across Archie's face and <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> his mother, and caught Harry off guard. How much Harry <u>wished</u> his mother could hold her grandson. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> it - or wanted to. Every hug tugged with nostalgia; every tuck-in touched with grief. On the last night they were all experiencing the familiar end-of-holiday malaise. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHpMZNSVlJXLTCX6UdTXFW9CB0I1RepY_Mqs-Knd9kHSvnU6yT1KyG0dXU2xxYrX6ZyDKRr-ah2jPEu9ItSnD_fTwgyHClIsFI_AbAaWvqlJti1Tng5vpMC17Lht_FYi4jk6tDoIYBKXIRvhDvH6NooBVZVTUTiOSz-iAyZuwjAFMzjhxZDmzfmIgrUqR/s445/41TJxOmPRjL._SY445_SX342_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="289" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXHpMZNSVlJXLTCX6UdTXFW9CB0I1RepY_Mqs-Knd9kHSvnU6yT1KyG0dXU2xxYrX6ZyDKRr-ah2jPEu9ItSnD_fTwgyHClIsFI_AbAaWvqlJti1Tng5vpMC17Lht_FYi4jk6tDoIYBKXIRvhDvH6NooBVZVTUTiOSz-iAyZuwjAFMzjhxZDmzfmIgrUqR/s320/41TJxOmPRjL._SY445_SX342_.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>They were just relaxing, drinking cocktails. David & Harry were chatting about the news. The sorry state of the press. They got into books. David mentioned Elton's memoir, for which Elton toyed with <u>for</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u>. It was <u>finally</u> done and Elton was <u>proud</u> of it, and the publication date was drawing near. <u>Bravo</u>! Harry had his precautions due to the press' treatment of Elton. After the way the press treated Elton, Harry didn't understand <u style="font-style: italic;">why</u> Elton would put himself out there like that? It was a warm night, so Harry was <u>already</u> sweating. Harry reminded him of lies <u>famously</u> printed by him and how Elton dealt with the situation. Harry <u>loved</u> Elton. He'll <u>always</u> love him. But, the news of the book wasn't to spoil the holiday. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It felt like glorious to watch an <u>entire</u> country fall in love with Meghan. South Africa. It was September 2019. Another foreign tour to represent Harry's grandmother. From around the globe, people <u>wouldn't</u> <u>get</u> <u>enough</u> of Meghan. They <u>both</u> felt <u>confident</u>, a bit <u>more</u> <u>courageous</u>. They were even introduced into having their <u>own</u> lawyer. Something Harry & Meghan had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> heard of. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> conditioned to do as told. Harry called and advised his father and grandmother of their plans. Also shooting William a text. Giving <u>advanced</u> notice of the lawsuit and in handling of statements. In announcing the lawsuit, Harry made his case out to the world. The lawsuit wasn't pressly covered as it <u>should've</u> been. It was <u>barely</u> covered. Nonetheless, friends took notes. Others texted. In a few days, the privacy laws in Britain were going to change in the tabloids favor. It wasn't about good/bad press. It was about <u>not</u> letting people get away with abuse. And lies. Maybe Harry <u>sounded</u> self-righteous. But, shortly after announcing their lawsuit, Harry felt energized by a ghastly story in <u style="font-style: italic;">The Express</u>. Never mind who<i> and what parties </i>were <u>hurt</u> in the process. . . including the <u>innocence</u> of Harry's young niece & nephew.<i> </i> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry was called to <u style="font-style: italic;">Buckingham Palace</u> for lunch with his grandparents. The invitation was contained in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">tense</u> e-mail from Anonymous. Harry was instructed to get his ass over there. He put on a suit and jumped in the car. When he arrived, Harry was <u>ambushed</u>. He <u style="font-style: italic;">thought</u> this was a family lunch. Apparently not. Alone, without his staff and without Meghan, Harry was confronted <u>directly</u> about his legal actions. Charles warned about the damage to the family reputation. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to get them to see the reason. Harry tried to use logic and examples for his stance. When he tried, Harry's response was . . . crickets. <u>Silence</u>. Harry stated that they had <u>no</u> <u>other</u> <u>option</u>. They wouldnt've had to do it if Harry & Meghan were <u>protected</u> from the press. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> was doing a <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">total</u> disservice by <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> protecting his wife. <u>Everyone</u> had a <u>stoned</u> <u>face</u> around the table. Was <u>everyone</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> in a bubble inside a bubble that they hadn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> how bad things were?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">From social media to on-air news to print. Some of the posts in the comments on the pages of all 3 <u style="font-style: italic;">Palace</u> social media posts were and <u>still</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> expunged. Things had gotten <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> out of hand, 72 women from <u style="font-style: italic;">Parliament</u>, in <u>both</u> parties, had <u style="font-weight: bold;">condemned</u> the "<i>racial undertones</i>" of <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> newspaper coverage of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Duchess Of Sussex</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">None</u> of these things had merited one comment, public or private, from Harry's family. The press tried to rationalize the treatment, stating it was different than what Kate or Camilla got. But it <u style="font-weight: bold;">was</u> different. . .this was <b><u>HATE</u>!</b> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry looked at his grandmother, looked around the room and <u>reminded</u> them that he and Meghan were coping with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">unique</u> situation, and doing it all for themselves. Their dedicated staff was <u>too</u> small, <u>too</u> young & grossly underfunded. Staff for Harry's grandmother and aides had <b><u>blatantly</u></b> lied about Harry & Meghan's request for support. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry & Meghan attended the <u style="font-style: italic;">Well child Awards</u> in 2019. Harry attended several times throughout the years, but it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> gut-wrenching. Various awards were given for inspiration, fortitude and Harry was presenting for resilience. He & Meghan were filled with hope, and worry, like all expected parents, and they have a <u>healthy</u> little boy at home. But other parents <u>weren't</u> so lucky. Gratitude and sympathy converged in his heart, and Harry was choked up. He's become <u>emotional</u> in a roomful of sick kids. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> the heartache in these parents after becoming a parent himself - there was <u>nothing</u> right about it. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After seeing/hearing from William, William could <u>clearly</u> see his brother was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> struggling. He was worried. Harry thanked him for his concern, assuring him he was fine. William said Harry wasn't well. Stating that Harry needed help. Harry reminded William that he was already in therapy. William recently told him he wanted to accompany him to a session due to fear of brainwashing. Harry took him on a dare to attend a session. He <u>never</u> came. William's strategy was <u>patently</u> obvious: Harry was unwell, which meant Harry was unwise. As if Harry's behavior was called into question. Harry worked hard at keeping their texts civil. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Nonetheless, the exchange turned into an argument, which stretched over <u style="font-weight: bold;">72</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Hours</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Back</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">and</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">forth</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">late</u> into the night. Just fighting through text. It was just as though they were speaking different languages. Now and then Harry <u>realized</u> that his <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u> was coming <u>true</u>: After <b><u>months</u></b> of therapy, after working <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> to become <u>more</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u>, <u>more</u> independent, Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> his brother was merely a stranger he <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">longer</u> knew. He was a stranger to his older brother. They could <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> relate-nor-tolerate one another. Harry <u>still</u> has the texts in his possession. He'll read them sometime(s), with sadness, with confusion, thinking: <b><i>How Did We Ever Get Here</i>?</b> In his <u>final</u> texts, William stated he loved his brother. That he cares for him <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u>. He would do <b><u>anything</u></b> to help his brother. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Never</u> feeling any other way. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At some point, Harry & Meghan reached the decision to get away, but this time it was <u>more</u> than the usual outing with Elton. Harry & Meghan were talking about escaping. A friend knew someone who had a house they could borrow on Vancouver Island. It was November 2019. They arrived with Archie, their animals and their nanny; under covers of darkness; on a stormy night and spent the next few nights trying to unwind. It wasn't hard. Harry could take a bracing swim. The <u>best</u> part was that <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> they were there. Harry, Meghan & Archie hiked, they kayaked, they played - <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">peace</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After a few days, the family needed supplies. They <u style="font-style: italic;">timidly</u> ventured out, drove down the road to the nearest village, walked along the pavement like expecting treatment like people in a horror movie. But, it <u>didn't</u> happen. People <u>didn't</u> freak. They didn't stare. They gave Harry & Meghan respective space and made them feel <u>welcome</u>. They felt like part of a community. They felt "<i><u>normal</u></i>" . . . for 6 weeks. Then, the <i><u>Daily Mail</u></i> printed their addresses. Within hours, they were invaded by the sea. Each boat was aimed with a photo lens of their son. Archie's parents grabbed him and pulled him into the house. They were shot through the windows while Archie ate. Pulling down their blinds. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The next time they drove into town, there were no paparazzi along the route. They <u>counted</u> 40. At their <u>favorite</u> little general store, they were protected by a <u>NO</u> <u>MEDIA</u> sign in the window. They hurried back to the house, pulled the blinds tighter, returned to a kind of <u>permanent</u> twilight. Meghan said she'd officially come full circle. <u>But,</u> blinds <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u>. Security cameras along the back fence of the property looking for a way in. Taking photos over the fence. Brief as it was, the taste of freedom got them thinking: <b><i>What if life could be like that <u>all</u> the time</i>? </b>What if they could spend at least part of a year somewhere far away, still doing work for Harry's grandmother? <u>Freedom</u>. <u>Freedom</u> from the British press, <u>free</u> from the drama, <u>free</u> from the lies. But, also <u>free</u> from the supposed "<i>public interest</i>" that was used to justify the <u style="font-style: italic;">frenzy</u>. The question was . . . <u>where</u> <u>to</u> <u>go</u>?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry ran the idea by his grandmother once before. Even signing off on it. Charles advised that Harry put it in writing, which he'd done <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>. Within a few days, it was all over the press and caused a stink. So now, at the end of December 2019, when Harry was chatting with his dad on the phone, saying they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">SERIOUS</u> about spending the year away from Britain. Harry <u>wasn't</u> having it when he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">told</u> to write things down. Charles <u>couldn't</u> <u>help</u> Harry if it <u>wasn't</u> in writing. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry tried to announce his plan to his father and their plans were leaked to the press and scrapped. Charles announced that it wasn't viable unless it was <u>in</u> <u>writing</u>. They were a government issue. So, in the first days of January 2020, Harry sent Charles a watermarked letter <u>broadly</u> outlined with bullet points, and many details. Harry hammered the <u>essential</u> theme: they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">prepared</u> to make <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sacrifice</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessary</u> to find some peace and safety, <u>including</u> relinquishing their <u style="font-style: italic;">Sussex</u> titles. Harry <u>tried</u> to contact his father. Charles wouldn't come to the phone. Harry soon received a <u>long</u> email from him saying they'd have to sit down and discuss the <u>entirety</u> in person. Charles wished to have them back to A.S.A.P. But, <u>not</u> before the end of January. Harry hoped this wouldn't get out to a public domain and become a spectacle. Charles responded with an ominous threat. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry alerted his grandmother of he & Meghan returning to Britain and would love to see her. He told her that they'd hope to discuss plans to create a different working arrangement. She wasn't pleased. Neither was she <i>shocked</i>. Harry's grandmother <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> how unhappy they were, she seen this day was upon them. <u>One</u> <u>good</u> <u>chat</u> with Harry's grandmother. Harry felt this would bring an ordeal to an end. Harry offered for he and Meghan to have tea and then drive back to London due to plans the following day. She offered for Harry & Meghan to stay in <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham</u>. It made things a lot easier. Harry accepted. He stated it <u>wasn't</u> <u>possible</u> to meet with his father due to being gone until the end of the month in Scotland. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> laugh. Days later, January 5TH, as Harry & Meghan boarded a flight in Vancouver, Harry received a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">frantic</u> note from their staff that his grandmother couldn't see them. Harry informed Meghan of his being blocked by his grandmother. When they landed, Harry considered driving <u style="font-style: italic;">straight</u> into <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham</u>. Fuck Security.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When they reached <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore Cottage</u>, Harry tried calling his grandmother again. He felt he had misunderstood her the previous day about the day's plans. She stated that things had come up without her notice. Harry <b><u>tried</u></b> to reschedule. But, she alluded to being scheduled/booked <u>solid</u>. But, there was an infliction in her voice. . . Harry <u>could</u> <u>tell</u> it was strange. He tried to reschedule. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> having it; stating she was busy all week. In the meantime, Harry & Meghan received word that <u style="font-style: italic;">The Sun</u> was about to run a story staying "<i><u>The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex</u> were stepping away from their duties to spend time in Canada.</i>" . . But, this reporter was <u>sure</u> to get everything wrong. He was rushing a story on behalf of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u>, whose courtiers were <u>determined</u> to get ahead of them and spin <u>their</u> story. Harry & Meghan would have to <u>rush</u> a statement.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry called his grandmother again, told her about <u style="font-style: italic;">The Sun</u> and the situation. His grandmother <u>understood</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">allowed</u> it. . ."<i>as long as it didn't add on to the speculation</i>". Harry gave his grandmother the gist and some of the <u>basic</u> details Harry outlined in the memo Charles had <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> the wording would be precise and calm. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They soon <u>realized</u> it <u>wasn't</u> possible to assign blame and rock the boat. But, they realized Harry & Meghan didn't have time to get their statements out <u>first</u>. So, they opened a bottle of wine to <i>relax</i>. The next morning, the story ran. As <u>expected</u>, the story ran differently than Harry & Meghan's <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> statement. Depicting Harry & Meghan as ones to tap out, rather than self-preservation. The <u>only</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> in the article was the letter Harry wrote to his father that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidential</u>. To which only a small group had access to. <u>Not</u> <u>even</u> their <u>closest</u> friends. On January 7TH, they began to work on the draft of what to say, did a brief public appearance and met with staff. When more details were being leaked, on January 8TH, they hunkered <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u> inside <u style="font-style: italic;">Buckingham Palace</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvYVvjU39homiCwuf8_hDvEAk2gRYbVBmCqjM8haP2NzeFL8MnwmTNdBQldN5XCdNJEwNGY3tP7vFSQ0uzs6m95MtvovD-c8F9p8qdU2FJFNfTHKEoQcFdihhUoW1zIA6qqpiU8WBw6UZ0s8OSmIqo9oGESC2FFydp30TzAFd98taELLHxn3cDoAM0uYQ/s580/The_Sun.svg.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="580" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWvYVvjU39homiCwuf8_hDvEAk2gRYbVBmCqjM8haP2NzeFL8MnwmTNdBQldN5XCdNJEwNGY3tP7vFSQ0uzs6m95MtvovD-c8F9p8qdU2FJFNfTHKEoQcFdihhUoW1zIA6qqpiU8WBw6UZ0s8OSmIqo9oGESC2FFydp30TzAFd98taELLHxn3cDoAM0uYQ/s320/The_Sun.svg.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Harry & Meghan received word that <u style="font-style: italic;">The Sun</u> was to run a story stating <u style="font-style: italic;">The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex</u> were stepping away from their royal duties to spend time in Canada. The editor was <u>sure</u> to get <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> wrong, just as he'd done his last "<i>exclusive</i>". Harry & Meghan didn't want anyone else breaking <u>their</u> news. . .<u>twisting</u> their news. They had to rush out a statement. Harry called his grandmother, told her about the situation. She understood and allowed it, as long as it <u>didn't</u> add to speculation. Harry didn't specify what was said. She didn't ask. Harry gave her the gist and mentioned <u>some</u> of the <u>basic</u> details Harry outlined in the memo Charles <u style="font-weight: bold;">demanded</u> and that they'd seen. The wording had to be <u>precise</u>. It needed to be <u>bland</u>. . .<u>calm</u>. They didn't want to stroke any fires. Add to the speculation. It became a formidable writing essay challenge. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They soon realized that it wasn't possible. They didn't have to put their statement out first. So, they proceeded with a bottle of wine. Just as they suspected. . .<u style="font-style: italic;">The Sun</u> posted their story on the front page. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Completely</u> opposed to <b><u>THE</u> <u>TRUTH</u>!</b> The only <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> was the <u>one</u> document on Earth in which <u>that</u> detail was mentioned - Harry's <u>private</u> and <u>confidential</u> letter to his father. To which a <u style="font-style: italic;">shockingly</u>, damingly small number of people had access. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> said <b><u>A</u> <u>WORD</u>!</b> So, on January 7TH, they spent time on the draft, did a <u>brief</u> public appearance and met with their staff. Finally knowing <u>more</u> on the 8TH and getting things <u>done</u>. Harry began to <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">see</b> what once was with a <u>different</u> eye. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> one. It was hard to get the <u>exact</u> wording. They <u>tried </u>to be <u>respectful</u> with the <u>right</u> tone. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Occasionally, one of them would stretch out on a nearby armchair, or give their eyes a rest by going out the windows onto the garden. When Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> a larger break. He sat forth toward the ocean. Harry underwent out to <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> halls where there was a tall, beautiful Christmas tree, still brightly lit. Harry stood there; <u>reminiscing</u>. He removed 2 ornaments and returned them back to staffers. One each. Figuring <u>no</u> <u>one</u> would miss these ornaments. Late in the day, as they closed in on the <u>final</u> day, staffers began to feel <u style="font-style: italic;">anxious</u>. They feared their employment if it was discovered from their involvement. Otherwise, they were excited. <u>Knowing</u> they were on the side of right. The staff <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> of the pain inflicted upon Harry & Meghan for <u style="font-weight: bold;">months</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">end</u>. At 6P, it was <u>done</u>. Harry & Meghan gathered around the laptop, proof-reading the draft <u>on</u> <u>their</u> <u>time</u>. One staff member messaged his family's private secretaries and <u>alerted</u> them. William's guy replied <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXWwcbJT-0TKJM8Om1ohEj9bdIV-ZBIoI_5Gz8b6bSrJfxvXhG0U1kOENJ-Aswp9eoUlP588BR87LN0qUobiTEEnIWB_Ij1OqECPuugyOhyfoVwnpC3dG_-W8JdAhCDRt79bPcQFlHD7Slbd70L5x9TFDyr3Av1w_WiqrGCuYxRGVJpNeiHRVlW47tXVp/s318/images.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="318" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXWwcbJT-0TKJM8Om1ohEj9bdIV-ZBIoI_5Gz8b6bSrJfxvXhG0U1kOENJ-Aswp9eoUlP588BR87LN0qUobiTEEnIWB_Ij1OqECPuugyOhyfoVwnpC3dG_-W8JdAhCDRt79bPcQFlHD7Slbd70L5x9TFDyr3Av1w_WiqrGCuYxRGVJpNeiHRVlW47tXVp/s1600/images.jpeg" width="318" /></a></div>Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> that Britain would be shocked, and saddened, which made Harry's stomach churn. But, in due course, once they <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. Harry felt <u>confident</u> his family would understand. Meghan & Harry were <u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sure</u> up to this task. They had <u>no</u> <u>other</u> choice. They sent the statement to their social media person. Within a minute, it was on their <u style="font-style: italic;">Instagram</u> page, the only platform available to them. Afterward, on their way home, Meghan & Harry heard the <u>recent</u> news on their car radio. On <u>every</u> channel. They listened whilst holding hands and shared a smile with their bodyguards in the front seat. Then they gazed and <u>silently</u> out the window. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Days later, there was a meeting at <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham</u>. On his way there, Harry got a text about a story in <u style="font-style: italic;">The Times</u>. William & Harry were declaring that the brothers were <u>now</u> "<i>separate entities</i>". Harry has <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> been able to count on the arm of his brother <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>. He just <u>couldn't</u> do it <u>anymore</u>. Meghan had gone back to Canada to be with Archie, so Harry was on his own for this Summit. William looked at him as if he was planning to murder his brother. William sat across from Harry. <u>Separate</u> <u>entities</u> indeed. When all participants had arrived, they shifted to a long conference table, with his grandmother at the helm. The subject of the press came up pretty <u>quickly</u>. Harry referenced their cruel and criminal behavior, but they had a ton of help. The family had <u>enabled</u> the papers by looking the other way, or by <u>actively</u> courting them, and some of the staff had worked <u>directly</u> with the press, briefing them,planting stories, occasionally rewarding and fretting them. The press was a <u>big</u> part of why they'd come to the crisis. Their business model <u style="font-weight: bold;">demanded</u> that Harry & Meghan be in <u>constant</u> conflict. But, they <u>weren't</u> the <u>only</u> culprits. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry looked at William. This was going to be William's moment to jump in, stand up for his brother and <u>agree</u>, talk about his maddening experiences with Camilla & Charles. Instead, William complained and bitched about a story in the morning papers suggesting that William was the reason they were leaving. The private secretaries began to address their grandmother about <u style="font-style: italic;">the Fine Options</u>. <u>Everyone</u> had seen them thanks to an e-mail sent with 5 different ways of proceeding. <u style="font-style: italic;">Option 5</u> was <u>full</u> severance, <u>No</u> royal title, <u>No</u> working for his grandmother and a <u>total</u> loss of security. Otherwise, a compromise was on the table. <u>Close</u> to what was <u>originally</u> proposed. Harry told <u>everyone</u> assembled that <u>above</u> <u>all</u>, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">desperate</u> to keep his <u>security</u>. He <b><u>warned</u></b> about his <u>family's</u> physical <u>security</u>. Harry wanted to prevent a repeat of history; another untimely death like the ones that had rocked their family to its <u style="font-weight: bold;">core</u> <u>YEARS</u> earlier. For which they were <u>still</u> trying to recover. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry consulted with <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">several</b> Palace veterans, people who <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> the inner sanction of the Monarchy and the history involved. . .Stating they all said <u style="font-style: italic;">Option 3</u> was <u>best</u> for <u>all</u> parties. Harry & Meghan had been living elsewhere part of the year, continuing their work, retaining security, and returning to Britain for charitable purposes. A <u>sensible</u> solution and <u>imminently</u> doable. But the family <u>pushed</u> for Harry to take <u style="font-style: italic;">Option 1</u>. Barring him from taking <u style="font-style: italic;">Option 5</u>. They discussed <u style="font-style: italic;">The 5 Options</u> for about an hour. Before <u>any </u>discussions, a draft was written. . .which confused Harry. In other words, the <u>fix</u> was <u>in</u>, the <u>whole</u> time. Everything else was <u>just</u> <u>for</u> <u>show</u>. Other options were available. But <u>not</u> to Harry's disposal. Harry thought this situation was a colossal joke. Harry took a moment for breathable air.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At this point, the entire situation was always giving Harry a <u style="font-weight: bold;">fucking</u> headache. They were wearing him down. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u> anymore at this point, as long as security remained in place. Harry pleaded for a continuance of services. Although Harry was the <u>most</u> <u>popular</u> member of the family; now he was <u>the</u> <u>target</u> - along with his family - of <u style="font-weight: bold;">unprecedented</u> hatred. It was <u>saddening</u>. Harry <u>offered</u> to defray the costs of security from his <b><u>very</u> <u>own</u> </b>pocket. Harry wasn't sure how. . .but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">DAMN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SURE</u> would find a way. After making one last pitch that seemed <u>simple</u> and <u>persuasive</u>, as the meeting came to a close, there was a <u>basic</u> general agreement that would be sorted out over a 12-month transitional period, during which they'd continue to have security. After his grandmother left, Harry was left with one more piece of unfinished business. Harry went off to find the <u>appropriate</u> offices. A few steps later, he saw his grandmother's assistant at work printing out documents. Harry properly declined help with his paperwork. As Harry went further down the corridor, memories flooded him abound. As he walked away downstairs, someone suggested that Harry step outside with William to cool their heads. They went up/down the hedges on a <u style="font-style: italic;">freezing</u><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>day. Harry was wearing only a light jacket and William was in a jumper, so they were <u>both</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">shivering</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry <u>braced</u> himself for a lecture that <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> came. William was subdued. For the <u>first</u> time, in a <u>long</u> time, William <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEARD</u> his brother out, and Harry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">SO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u>! He informed his brother about a <u>former</u> staff member sabotaging Meghan and plotting against her. Taking payments for leaked stuff to the press about <u>both</u> of them. Harry's sources on this were above reproach, including <u>several</u> journalists. William "<i>agreed</i>" to to look into it as the brothers kept up communication. Harry jumped into the car and was <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> told that a <u style="font-weight: bold;">strongly</u> worded <u>denial</u> had been put out by <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u>, squashing that morning's bullying story. The denial was signed by none other than . . . Harry and William. Harry was <u style="font-style: italic;">shocked</u>! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry returned back to <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore</u>. From there, remotely, over the next few days, Harry took part in the drafting of a <u>final</u> statement, that went out on January 18, 2020. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> announced that <u style="font-style: italic;">The Duke & Duchess Of Sussex</u> had agreed to "<i>step back</i>" that they'd no longer "<i>formally</i>" represent his grandmother , that their H.R.H. titles would be an "<i>abeyance</i>" during a "<i>traditional</i>" year - and that they'd offer to re-imburse for refurbishments to <u style="font-style: italic;">Frogmore Cottage</u>. Harry flew back to Vancouver. A delicious family reunion with Meghan & the family. And yet, for a few days, Harry didn't feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> back. Part of him was still in Britain. Harry spent <u style="font-weight: bold;">HOURS</u> glued to his phone, monitoring the fallout. Newspapers had a field day with misappropriated propaganda. Among them were his grandmother's press security, who concluded that Harry &Meghan were to expect "NO MERCY".What the hell? <u>Clearly</u>, this was <u>more</u> than anger. Everyone included began to <u>see</u> Harry as an existential threat. If their leaving posed a threat to the monarchy, then it posed a threat to all of those covering the monarchy for a living. Henceforth, Harry & Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> be <u>destroyed</u>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry's grandmother announced <u style="font-weight: bold;">falsehoods</u> with unfaltering certainty and thus her version of events <u>quickly</u> became "<i>the truth</i>" in many circles. Harry could feel the lies perpetuating the <u>generational</u> history books. Harry sat up late, asking and brooding on <b><u>all</u></b> of it. Asking himself. . . <u>how</u>? <i>Was it always like this</i>? What was being said <u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u> is making Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">think</u> of <u>certain</u> possibilities. Money sits at the heart of <u>every</u> controversy about monarchy. Everything <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> had a <u>financial</u> back-end. One back <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> scratches another. <b><i>Could anyone <u>truly</u> deny it</i>?</b> This put Harry in an <u>awkward</u> position. . .but his bottom line <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u>. He'll <u>always</u> support his grandmother and the Monarchy. Harry <u>loved</u> his country and his family. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> will. His problem was with the press and their <u>sick</u> relationship with <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Gkp7VeyyY-R_EnNOe05yDyUegw45wUu5KXIechb2nANb9IjimI5Qt9LtRvPZlH9siRgHfnjziGjOi3uXi7e5LkQqTwy3BEUbnS2DApnODkXjO5_nxRJNEe78kP6iVVwoWR4dJblrE2QODrN666HZZbvrAk9Re6SsDIxtXoPkiDyN-vd8lyczK0Ynl3ls/s1920/2af58545d8a5-prince-harry-cuddling-archie-z.jpg.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1920" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Gkp7VeyyY-R_EnNOe05yDyUegw45wUu5KXIechb2nANb9IjimI5Qt9LtRvPZlH9siRgHfnjziGjOi3uXi7e5LkQqTwy3BEUbnS2DApnODkXjO5_nxRJNEe78kP6iVVwoWR4dJblrE2QODrN666HZZbvrAk9Re6SsDIxtXoPkiDyN-vd8lyczK0Ynl3ls/s320/2af58545d8a5-prince-harry-cuddling-archie-z.jpg.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Now, the question was <b><i>Where do Harry & Meghan live</i>?</b> They considered Canada. By-in-large, Canada had been <u>good</u> to them. It had <u>already</u> felt like a home there. They had felt like home. Canada <u>may</u> be the answer. Meghan had gotten in touch with a friend from Vancouver, whom connected them with an estate agent, and they began to look at homes. They were taking the first steps, trying to be <u>positive</u>. It didn't matter where they lived - as long as <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> fulfilled their obligations - and what Harry felt like was an <u>explicit</u> promise - to keep them <u>safe</u>. Meghan wondered about the status of their security? Harry assured her that with the climate of hate and the result of his mother . . . plus other family scandals, no one suggested they lose their security. It was February 2020. Harry scooped Archie from his nap and took him out on the lawn. Father & son <u>took</u> <u>in</u> their surroundings. Harry kissed Archie's soft baby cheeks, tickled him and then realized a call came in from security. Needing a moment alone with Harry.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry carried Archie across the garden and handed him to Meghan, then across the grass to the cottage housing bodyguards. With the waves rolling gently in the background, Harry was informed that their security was being pulled. The <u>entire</u> team was ordered to evacuate. So much for the year of transition. The <u style="color: red;">threat</u> level for them was <u style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">higher</u> than any other royal, <u>equal</u> to that assigned to his grandmother. Once word came down, there was to be <u>no</u> arguing. So, there they were. . .the <u style="font-weight: bold;">ULTIMATE</u> nightmare. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">case</u> scenarios. They were able to be <u>easily</u> found. Harry called Charles. He <u>wouldn't</u> take Harry's calls. Just then, Harry received a text from William on availability. . .Harry was <u>sure</u> that his older brother would <u>surely</u> have his back, after their walk/talk in <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham Gardens</u>. He was <u>sure</u> his brother would step up for him. William <u>hid</u> behind it being "<i>a government decision</i>". <u>Nothing</u> to be done. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As of March 31st, the decision was <u>made</u>. Harry & Meghan were by themselves. Harry <u>scrambled</u> to find <u>new</u> security. He spoke to consultants, gathered estimates. Harry did his math and research . . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">filling</u> a notebook in the process. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> directed Harry to a firm, which quoted him a price. $6,000,000/annually. Harry slowly hung up. During this time, Harry received word that his dear friend, Caroline Flack, had taken her life. She couldn't take <u style="font-weight: bold;">relentless</u> abuse from the press. <u>Year</u>-<u>after</u>-<u>year</u>. Harry felt <u>awful</u> for her family. What Harry & Meghan were dealing with themselves was <u>indeed</u> a question of life & death. And time was running out. In March 2020, the beginning of a global pandemic was upon them. Meghan & Harry <u>needed</u> to figure out where to go . . . and <u style="font-weight: bold;">get</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tyler Perry <u style="font-weight: bold;">generously</u> offered his L.A. home to house Harry & Meghan at his residence.Tyler wasn't going to be there due to work; so the house was empty. They <b><u>graciously</u></b> accepted. Tyler's reasoning was from a mother's love. Tyler's mother <u>loved</u> Harry's. Harry was caught <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> by surprise. They <u>both</u> had a bond of trauma loss of losing a mother <u>so</u> <u>young</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_2eyboRVOZfwZ8FOXN3zPVWMJQYWoF-jfKFNWk99yQ8FDgWxiv6Ljpm-llejanowDZv90KcxmylhBDOFZxcODPPMDfPYycNW7v0vBV0ukMVvSM__8eZYxF9kDe9YnEx8MJQDlr0TAHP6YtJQrY035R4bw4vtYYjhtbTqspgF-Y2vHEtmVPQcAn5j-mHA/s2000/harry-meghan-netflix-comp11.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_2eyboRVOZfwZ8FOXN3zPVWMJQYWoF-jfKFNWk99yQ8FDgWxiv6Ljpm-llejanowDZv90KcxmylhBDOFZxcODPPMDfPYycNW7v0vBV0ukMVvSM__8eZYxF9kDe9YnEx8MJQDlr0TAHP6YtJQrY035R4bw4vtYYjhtbTqspgF-Y2vHEtmVPQcAn5j-mHA/s320/harry-meghan-netflix-comp11.webp" width="320" /></a></div>They spent the last days of March 2020 exploring and unpacking. Trying to get their bearings. Meghan introduced Archie to their <u>new</u> environment and surroundings. She introduced him to <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> to offer. Within a week, Tyler's estate felt like home. Archie took his <u>first</u> steps in the garden a few months later, at the <u>height</u> of a global pandemic lockdown. They cheered and gave Archie affection. For a <u>moment</u>, Harry wished to share in the news with his father and brother. Not long after Archie's first steps, he/<i>Archie</i> marched up to his <u>favorite</u> painting in the front hall. Archie <u>stared</u> at it, made a gurgle of recognition. Meghan leaned in for a <u>closer</u> look. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> for a 2ND time. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> for the <u>first</u> time; a nameplate on the frame. <u style="font-style: italic;">Goddess Of The Hunt</u>: Diana. It gave <u>everyone</u> <i>chills</i>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Late at night, with <u>everyone</u> asleep, Harry would walk the premises of his home, checking the doors and windows. He would sit on the balcony on the edge and roll a joint. Taking in the nightly air and mentally place himself in Botswana. Harry & Meghan reconnected with his contacts in world conservation. Things were under control until the press spotted their location. Paps would cut the fences. They (<i>H & M</i>) would patch it up. They stopped venturing outside. Soon after, they would have to find somewhere new, and soon that meant paying for their own security. Harry went back to his notebooks, and started contacting security firms again. He & Meghan went over their finances to <u>use</u> what they could afford in <u>stability</u>. It was right then, while revising their budget, word came off: Charles was cutting them off. Cutting him off was more of a <u>firing</u>, without redundancy pay; casting Harry into the void after a lifetime of service. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSQKsFvO-DOPKDQBssbtFfr_qiQOVJSXxYAteiCI_4D9odcu4VkU6_PTv6EGrhTXJA_hh51dtSGdD8eCsNGXHXeCkE6D9scjvfp_n_OD3YEoA_Gz_il5BTTLvD78vlsyBkPp2CYDYIlO-WN9b6RfzgA3L0kSZJw6qLjoZ0p3MKn0RmCkaKkySMEn5CNUj/s1500/Prince-Harry-and-Meghan-Family-Holiday-Card-6cbf7caa72db41efa19301df559a3e43.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1115" data-original-width="1500" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSQKsFvO-DOPKDQBssbtFfr_qiQOVJSXxYAteiCI_4D9odcu4VkU6_PTv6EGrhTXJA_hh51dtSGdD8eCsNGXHXeCkE6D9scjvfp_n_OD3YEoA_Gz_il5BTTLvD78vlsyBkPp2CYDYIlO-WN9b6RfzgA3L0kSZJw6qLjoZ0p3MKn0RmCkaKkySMEn5CNUj/s320/Prince-Harry-and-Meghan-Family-Holiday-Card-6cbf7caa72db41efa19301df559a3e43.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Harry felt fatted for slaughter. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> asked to be financially dependent on Charles. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> to participate in a never-ending <u style="font-style: italic;">Truman Show</u> in which Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> carried any money <b><u>never</u></b> owned a car, <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> carried a house key, <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> ordered anything online; <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> ordered from <u style="font-style: italic;">Amazon</u>. The newspapers called Harry a sponge. <u style="font-weight: bold;">But</u>, there is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">big</u> difference between being a sponge and being <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">prohibited</u> from learning independence. For decades of being infantized, Harry was now <u>abruptly</u> abandoned and mocked for it. The question of how to pay for a home and security kept both Harry & Meghan <u>awake</u> at nights. Spending <u>some</u> of his inheritance from his Mother was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u> resort.They seen that money as belonging to Archie. And his sibling. It was then that they learned Meghan was pregnant. So, they seen what Harry's mother left was a generational inheritance to her grandchildren.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Harry & Meghan found a place priced at a <u style="font-weight: bold;">steep</u> discount just outside of Santa Barbara. They took a tour. The place was a <u>dream</u>. They were advised to buy it. So, they pulled their resources for a down payment, took out a mortgage, and moved in July 2020. <u>Everything</u> they owned fit into 13 suitcases. That first night, Harry & Meghan had a <u>quiet</u> drink in celebration, roasted a chicken, and went to bed early. But, there was <u>still</u> a pressing issue with Meghan's legal case against the tabloids. Meghan did <u>everything</u> she could and was <u>determined</u> to prevent anonymous friends from reading <u>official</u> court documents. Now, on their first morning in the <u>new</u> house, Meghan reported abdominal pain. And <span style="color: #cc0000;">bleeding</span>. Then, she collapsed onto the floor. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPqHGn4aFzwMuHxXqLi6AKOn0sLwNddHmJPhYFYz2j8Fcazvg05_y9RPSNE_YkRJ68CpZvQaEF8pGNfZwSBbzUN2TBF1ZA9KhCDmx-i1RIFkKFRE5Bmlwv6NDkjoXovj3C3VTVeRu_2zcBbr3P1c92_blryqsdF9671JwstOu1OB6z4JbSIoa8cVJMIXKY/s1800/prince-harry-meghan-markle-21.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPqHGn4aFzwMuHxXqLi6AKOn0sLwNddHmJPhYFYz2j8Fcazvg05_y9RPSNE_YkRJ68CpZvQaEF8pGNfZwSBbzUN2TBF1ZA9KhCDmx-i1RIFkKFRE5Bmlwv6NDkjoXovj3C3VTVeRu_2zcBbr3P1c92_blryqsdF9671JwstOu1OB6z4JbSIoa8cVJMIXKY/w266-h400/prince-harry-meghan-markle-21.webp" width="266" /></a></div>Harry & Meghan raced to a local hospital. When the doctor walked into the room; Harry didn't hear <u>one</u> word. He just watched her face and body language. They <u>already</u> knew. . .They <u>both</u> did. . .There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">blood</u>. Still hearing the words was a blow. Meghan grabbed Harry and they <u>both</u> wept. In Harry's life, he only felt <u style="font-style: italic;">totally</u> helpless <u>only</u> 4 times.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li> In the back of a car while his mother and brother were being chased by paps</li><li>In the Apache above Afghanistan, <u>unable</u> to set clearance to do duty</li><li>At <u style="font-style: italic;">Nottingham Cottage</u> when Meghan planned to take her <u>own</u> life</li></ul><div> <b style="font-size: x-large;">. </b>And now <u>this</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry & Meghan left the hospital with their unborn child. A tiny package. In a <u>secret</u> location only <u style="font-weight: bold;">they</u> knew, Harry & Meghan went to a place under a spreading banyan tree. While Meghan wept, Harry dug a hole with his hands and set the tiny package inside the ground. </div><div><br /></div><div>Five months later, Christmas 2020. Harry & Meghan <u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> the joy of <u>celebrating</u> the season with Archie and festivities. Tree decorating in a new home, a healthy boy and a positive cash flow. They were able to resume their work and spotlight causes they <u>care</u> about. Tell stories they felt were <u>vital</u>. Ad pay for their security. It was during Christmas Eve. They <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTime</u>'d several friends, including ones in Britain. They watched Archie running around the tree. Keeping the <u style="font-style: italic;">Winsdor</u> family tradition. Starting your own traditions may be weird at first, but you soon get into the spirit. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> announced that a review was conducted by their roles, and their agreement reached in <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Henceforth, in February 2023, Harry & Meghan were stripped of <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> but a <u>few</u> patronages. They were stripped of <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u>. It was <u>taken</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">away</u>. Including Harry's military association. No matter what they stripped him of; Harry's <u>real</u> uniform or military status could <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> be taken away. Furthermore, Harry & Meghan would <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> be doing <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u> service <u style="font-weight: bold;">whatsoever</u> for his grandmother. They made it sound as if there was a reached agreement between them. There was <u>nothing</u> of the sort. Harry & Meghan pushed back in their <u>own</u> statement, released the <u>same</u> day <u style="font-weight: bold;">disputing</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u>'s statement. Their <u>new</u> slap-down from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> was like a petrol in a bonfire. Harry & Meghan were under media attacks. <u>Non</u>-<u>stop</u> since leaving. But, that <u>official</u> severing of ties set off a new wave, which felt <u>different</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Harry & Meghan were vilified <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> minute of <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> day, on social media, and found themselves the subjects of <u>fictional</u> stories in the newspapers. Stories <u>clearly</u> spoon-fed by <u style="font-style: italic;">Palace</u> staff - and presumably sanctioned by his family. Harry paid <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">attention</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">avoided</u> the internet as much as <u>Possible</u>. He kept his phone on <u>silent</u>. Not even <u style="font-style: italic;">vibrate</u>. They asked friends not to report any "<i>news</i>" on them. Harry <u>wasn't</u> surprised that <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u> cut ties. No matter what Harry <u>tried</u> to do, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">denied</u> in <b><u>every</u> </b>corner.</div><div><br /></div><div>Harry went to see someone whom claimed to have "<i>powers</i>". He sensed a feeling of bullshit upon him. But, this woman came with <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u> recommendations from <u>trusted</u> friends. So, Harry thought . . . <i>Fuck It</i>. Then, the minute they sat down together. Harry felt an energy around her. He thought there was <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u> in the environment. She felt an energy around him. Harry <u>felt</u> where she was going. She said the presence of his mother was <u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>. Harry felt his neck grow <span style="color: #e06666;">warm</span>. His eyes watered. They stated that Harry's mother <u>knew</u> he was looking for <u>clarity</u>. His mother feels Harry's <u style="font-style: italic;">confusion</u>. She knew Harry had <u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> questions. The answer would come in time. One day in the future. Harry was to <u>have</u> <u>patience</u>. The word <u style="font-style: italic;">Patience</u> caught Harry in the throat.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, this woman said, Harry's mother was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">proud</u> of him. And <b><u>fully</u> </b><u>supportive</u>. Diana knew it wasn't easy. Harry was informed that he was living the life his mother couldn't. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to <u>believe</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">word</u> this woman was saying to be <u>true</u>. But, he needed proof! A sign. Anything. Harry's sign was a Christmas ornament that Archie, so cutely, <u>tried</u> to fix. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hours after his grandfather's funeral, Charles & William were <u>still</u> claiming <u>not</u> to know why Harry fled Britain. <u>Denying</u> to know anything, Harry was getting ready to walk away. Then one of them brought up the press. Asking Harry about his hacking lawsuit. They didn't ask about Meghan, but they were keen to know how Harry's lawsuit was going,because that therein would affect them. Charles seen it as a suicide mission. Harry seen it was <b><u>WORTH</u> <u>IT</u>!</b> Harry set out the press were <u>more</u> <u>than</u> violators; they were in fact lawbreakers. Harry was going to see some of them jailed. That was why they were attacking him <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">viciously</u>. They <u>KNEW</u> Harry had <b><u>HARD</u> <u>EVIDENCE</u>!</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>This time, it <u>wasn't</u> about Harry, it was a matter of public interest. Shaking his head, Charles <u style="font-weight: bold;">allowed</u> the journalists that badmouthed Harry & Meghan. <u>But</u>. There was always a <u>but</u> with Charles. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Dr. Phil McGraw always says</i><b>:</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> Forget everything else on what is said prior to But</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">. . .<u>But</u>, is what I mean in what is being said</i>. Charles hated the press' hate; but, Oh! how he loved their love. A problem with Charles seeding back <u>decades</u>. Charles had been deprived of love as a boy, bullied by schoolmates he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">dangerously</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">compulsively</u> drawn to the press' love. It was something Charles inherited from his father. Speaking of taking things personally, Harry assured he had to endure the press, and forgive the abuse. He <u style="font-style: italic;">might</u>, but his <u>own</u> family's complicity would take <u>longer</u> to get over. Charles & William's offices were not collaborating. </div><div><br /></div><div>The lies orchestrated were <u>so</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">shocking</u>, <u>so</u> <u>egregious</u> that even Meghan & Harry demolished <u style="font-style: italic;">The Palace</u>'s lie with a 25-page, <u style="font-weight: bold;">evidence</u>-filled report to Human Resources. Harry was <u>going</u> <u>to</u> simply shrug it off. William & Charles were trying to <u>convince</u> Harry that he was delusional. But, it was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u> other way around. <u>OKAY</u>! Charles & William had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> done anything against Harry or Meghan - but their <u>silence</u> in accomplicement . . said it <b><u>ALL</u>!</b> It continued and was heartrending. In turn, Charles sided with the press in what he was saying.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ohyphenhyphenBvdWsPyI5kIrRSAaEcM4jY8hEHE_6ik6xUpz5Xl3DQW62RF8rOj7NPWKdfEF3lwsUpQ1isZZGaB2XeY_59JxF3oGnXvEugB0XQeRd1mgP_ikTAETnW19VZ2csKUOwcehKYlL-YCJkLmsiU9bBpXZFSwjWyChq_58dpftY6xLq4roKsxqJa-bzWOh_/s1200/prince-harry-meghan-oprah.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ohyphenhyphenBvdWsPyI5kIrRSAaEcM4jY8hEHE_6ik6xUpz5Xl3DQW62RF8rOj7NPWKdfEF3lwsUpQ1isZZGaB2XeY_59JxF3oGnXvEugB0XQeRd1mgP_ikTAETnW19VZ2csKUOwcehKYlL-YCJkLmsiU9bBpXZFSwjWyChq_58dpftY6xLq4roKsxqJa-bzWOh_/w400-h210/prince-harry-meghan-oprah.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>William saw it was a double-edged sword in cooperating with the press; therein is why William brought up the <u style="font-style: italic;">Oprah</u> interview that Harry & Meghan participated in. Since leaving Britain, the attacks on Harry &Meghan had <u>increased</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">exponentially</u>. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> do <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u> to make it <u>stop</u>. Being silent wasn't working. It <u>only</u> made matters <b><u>worse</u></b>. Harry & Meghan felt they had <b><u>NO</u> <u>CHOICE</u>!</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>Several <u>close</u> friends and beloved figures in Harry's life chastised him for <u style="font-style: italic;">Oprah</u>. Harry explained that he failed to see how speaking to <u style="font-style: italic;">Oprah</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u> different than the family and their staff had done for <u style="font-weight: bold;">decades</u> - briefing the press on the sly, planting stories. The <u>only</u> <u>difference</u> was that Meghan & Harry were <u>completely</u> upfront. They chose an interviewer who was above reproach, and they let people <u>see</u> the words out of <u>their</u> <u>own</u> mouths. <u>Not</u> some source speaking for them. There came a point when Harry thought to <u>realize</u>: What's the point? His father & brother <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hearing</u> him. Neither one of them was <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEARING</u> the other. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> a <u>satisfactory</u> explanation for their actions/inactions, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> would, due to <u>no</u> explanation at their disposal. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to say goodbye, good luck and <i>fuck off</i>! but William was <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY</u><b> </b><u style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">STEAMING</u><b>, </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">SHOUTING</u> that things were <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u> for wear. Then, blame-shifted it <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> on Harry for <b><u>never</u></b> asking for help. <u>F<i>uckers</i></u>! Since they were kids, William always seen that little brother should come to big brother. Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">must</u> come to him. Bend the knee. Otherwise, no aid from ''<i>the Heir</i>''. Harry wondered why <u>he</u> should have to ask his brother to help while he and Meghan were in peril. Harry <u>mentioned</u> the <u style="font-style: italic;">Sandringham Agreement</u>. Harry asked for William's help with <u>that</u>, when the agreement was violated, shredded, when they were stripped of <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u>; William <u style="font-weight: bold;">DID</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> to help his brother. William continued to blameshift it to their grandmother. Take it up with her!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPWWmfwOM-vv61D2LsXhDxMmKs-0PxX_JlqkKxqP7BcdKXpY3xb6mxPSoy77aT5k_tGBfPD-PHU8sBPq5kv3tLNJBXZ4GirmWVnaM2LuogCQZqo7I6fag0RZgDAOAEpcKC_zUkN-fDEEz4LFIn8QPozTJPXYTU8UnmKDALLQQUkdws0wiQW2Y0hbuZnhrU/s613/K3T7PY7UWRDKDHXVEMTVCBYKIY.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPWWmfwOM-vv61D2LsXhDxMmKs-0PxX_JlqkKxqP7BcdKXpY3xb6mxPSoy77aT5k_tGBfPD-PHU8sBPq5kv3tLNJBXZ4GirmWVnaM2LuogCQZqo7I6fag0RZgDAOAEpcKC_zUkN-fDEEz4LFIn8QPozTJPXYTU8UnmKDALLQQUkdws0wiQW2Y0hbuZnhrU/s320/K3T7PY7UWRDKDHXVEMTVCBYKIY.jpeg" width="301" /></a></div>Harry waved hand in disgust, but William lunged at him, grabbed his shirt and <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">force</u> him to listen. Harry pulled away, <u style="font-weight: bold;">refusing</u> to meet William's gaze. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Forcing</u> Harry to look <u style="font-weight: bold;">into</u> William's gaze. While they <u>both</u> wished the other the <u>best</u> of love and happiness. . . but, William's stubbornness. . . was <u style="font-weight: bold;">extraordinary</u>. Harry counteracted his argument. He pulled away again, <u style="font-weight: bold;">literally</u> twisting his brother's arm again to <u>maintain</u> eye contact. William <u style="font-weight: bold;">swore</u> he wished <u>only</u> for his brother's happiness. . . <u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">their</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">mother's</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u>. <b><u>There</u>!</b> Harry <u>stopped</u>! William <u>stopped</u>. Charles <u>stopped</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>William had gone <b><u>THERE</u>!</b> He had used the secret code, the universal password. Ever since they were boys, those 3 words were <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> to be used <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> in times of <u style="color: red; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">crisis</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">On</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">their</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">mother's</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u>. For nearly 25 years, brothers reserved that soul-crushing vow for times when one <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to be heard, to be <u>believed</u> quickly. For times when nothing else would do. It <u>stopped</u> Harry cold, as it was <b><u>meant</u></b> to. Not because William used it, but because it didn't work. Harry <u>simply</u> didn't <u>believe</u> him, nor did he <u>trust</u> him. And vice versa. William seen it too. William seen it that they were in a place of <u style="font-weight: bold;">such</u> doubt and hurt that even those <u style="font-weight: bold;">sacred</u> words couldn't set them <u>free</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>What had <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> happened to their brotherly bond? How much damage is needed repaired? <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u> because of media interference tormenting one very large, very ancient, very dysfunctional family. William wasn't quite ready to <u>accept</u> defeat: William <u>swore</u> on their mom's life. . . he <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> wanted his brother's happiness.Harry's voice broke, as he <u>softly</u> stated his <u>disbelief</u> in his brother's words. Harry's mind was <u>suddenly</u> flooded with memories of their brotherly relationship. Some, in particular, were crystalline. It was such a transcendent moment that they turned and did the <u>rarest</u> of things - William &Harry <u>hugged</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> hugged it out. <u>But</u>, even in their <u>finest</u> moments, their <u>best</u> moments, they somehow involve death. Their lives were <u>built</u> on death. Their brighter days were shadowed by it. Looking back, Harry didn't see spots of time, but dances with death. Harry seen how they <u style="font-weight: bold;">steeped</u> themselves in it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Father & brother continued to over talk over another., and Harry <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> tune it out. He seen himself, already gone, already to the pleasantries with California. A voice in Harry's head had declared. . . . <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENOUGH</u> death <u>already</u>! <b><u>ENOUGH</u>!</b> Somehow, it was somewhat <u>slightly</u> easier. Maybe it was because Harry & Meghan were an ocean away from old chaos and stress. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hUUPWVwqMAHNa83SUBukI-LlYJI3AjYV6b220UOvAkRyPYUogv5LvFeNnfZDkgk4F48pr6FGvYbB7PuyrbYG_P5KXOS6D4A38WF__MCCppvQkqWG6gc-T6Jn17QhJdX8E5qKf6P9BT1jJH48xwqjJMFhudK_sVcAWJPHXCSD-yXhotzEXh9Fl4tpnlSr/s450/logo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hUUPWVwqMAHNa83SUBukI-LlYJI3AjYV6b220UOvAkRyPYUogv5LvFeNnfZDkgk4F48pr6FGvYbB7PuyrbYG_P5KXOS6D4A38WF__MCCppvQkqWG6gc-T6Jn17QhJdX8E5qKf6P9BT1jJH48xwqjJMFhudK_sVcAWJPHXCSD-yXhotzEXh9Fl4tpnlSr/w200-h200/logo.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>When the <u>BIG</u> <u>DAY</u> came for relocation, Harry & Meghan were <u>both</u> calmer and steadier. A <u>blissful</u> feeling to not worry about timing, protocols, journalists at the front gate. Harry & Meghan drove <u>calmly</u>, sanely to the hospital, where their bodyguards fed them <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">In-N-Out</i> meals. And fajitas from a local Mexican restaurant for Meghan. Nothing but love and joy in the room. This time, while watching, Harry left the laughing gas <u>ALONE</u>! Harry was <u>FULLY</u> <u>PRESENT</u>! He was with Meghan through <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> push. They knew they were leaving a daughter. It was during the delivery, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIT</u> Harry. The past and the future were <u>suddenly</u> one. It wasn't that the past didn't matter and the future didn't exist. There was only one intense present. With that, Harry helped hand deliver his daughter into the world. Surrendering her to Meghan. Skin-to-skin.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLn4IYwEulFDWEQ7PzIdBxn6EGdmdYvFYrrusQcPu0bhefVfnnrreNjFuTywJz2PzYcvjnEAVsLWMa65Uhz3mU8ZGKdeaFXO68A4vVgk8dnaEM7dZ2VfQB_4yMDFyGbtSIaq3tWUMbwHFU8jHtx5AcZll7sndXAg1gSEfE8KjQ6cWLdeBYL0MWQh3QB6k/s1500/Prince-Harry-and-Meghan-Family-Holiday-Card-6cbf7caa72db41efa19301df559a3e43.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1115" data-original-width="1500" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLn4IYwEulFDWEQ7PzIdBxn6EGdmdYvFYrrusQcPu0bhefVfnnrreNjFuTywJz2PzYcvjnEAVsLWMa65Uhz3mU8ZGKdeaFXO68A4vVgk8dnaEM7dZ2VfQB_4yMDFyGbtSIaq3tWUMbwHFU8jHtx5AcZll7sndXAg1gSEfE8KjQ6cWLdeBYL0MWQh3QB6k/s320/Prince-Harry-and-Meghan-Family-Holiday-Card-6cbf7caa72db41efa19301df559a3e43.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Later, after bringing their daughter, Lilibet "Lili" Diana, home, after their dissension into a family of 4, Harry, Meghan and their newborn were skin-to-skin. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> unequivocal <span style="color: #ea9999;">love</span> in that room. Meghan jotted some thoughts in a kind of journal. Which she shared. Harry read them as a decree:</div><div>The 4 of them are <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b></div><div>No Spare in sight.</div><div>Just a loving and <u style="font-weight: bold;">accepting</u> family. </div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">In the events of this book, while it is duly noted that this tell-all is a one-and-done deal, there is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DIFFERENCE</u> between slanderous allegations and <u style="font-weight: bold;">FLAT</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OUT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TELLING</u>. Harry's point of recognition on behalf of the Royal Family decrees largely within its ranks. As you get older, you sense to try to find a world view. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u> Harry has.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxN1CHfxYvQLLblrZFT11OSckixeG0KmwWCxlexqtwzsLyOS8CS6vMyh3CvEdNOaOwD7jXhexgddRVAcUb-Lw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-85540774511107263562023-04-01T09:50:00.021-07:002023-04-01T09:50:00.174-07:00The Collected Works Of Jim Morrison: Poetry, Journals, Transcripts & Lyrics<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI4EI2c8LAGAru7Jja_iCPE7OlF5HVnxjdjDgzbCvmuwJv8bBmVro2Um4VB7cQBX9rYQlbYU25o2692tqXeTQHCUebTHRIsgvCQPRGGTYTD4kryTVjDXKP5eGkGBf9XTIqvxcDUsIPP4CCMNxVS3zBdPAdjlNam5QoMyn3KLITBxH9rym2C2CCLJCUag/s1000/91-0IDQTNOL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="732" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI4EI2c8LAGAru7Jja_iCPE7OlF5HVnxjdjDgzbCvmuwJv8bBmVro2Um4VB7cQBX9rYQlbYU25o2692tqXeTQHCUebTHRIsgvCQPRGGTYTD4kryTVjDXKP5eGkGBf9XTIqvxcDUsIPP4CCMNxVS3zBdPAdjlNam5QoMyn3KLITBxH9rym2C2CCLJCUag/w293-h400/91-0IDQTNOL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><u style="font-weight: bold;">  </u>This <u style="font-weight: bold;">INCREDIBLE</u> collection was/is a posthumous magnum opus by one of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREATEST</u> poets of <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u> generation. This book details writings, scriptures, handwritten thoughts and <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u>. This book is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">quintessential</u> published and <u style="font-weight: bold;">un</u>published <u style="font-weight: bold;">collective</u> writings of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARY</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><u style="font-style: italic;">The Doors</u> frontman, and "<i>Mr. Mojo Risin</i>" himself,<div>James Douglas Morrison.<p></p><p>While some may only see him as the lead vocalist of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Doors</u>, what people <u>may</u> <u>not</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> was that <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">heart</u>, Jim was a <u>poet</u> and a <u>writer</u>. He filled journal after journal (<b><u>dozens</u> <u>of</u> <u>them</u></b>) with copious expressions of a literal mind. Music happening by happenstance. Jim composed poems/writings and took notes about the alchemists and Frederick Nietzche. Energizing each and every page is a lost, but determined explorer who goes out his way to pluck the strongest fruit, only to polish them with a cotton cloth of <u>innocence</u>. The myriad, often disconnected verses of Jim Morrison are more <u style="font-weight: bold;">dense</u> than fiery sparks, a mythological rapture or both of the <u>human</u> consciousness.</p><p>At the <u>height</u> of his music career, Jim took steps to clear a space in the public view for the <u>poet</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">and</u> the writer. Jim submitted his work to pop and teen magazines. He began to organize his writings so he could self-publish them...<u style="font-style: italic;">James</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Douglas</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Morrison</u>. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkLmT7YouDPSvAqVTNXXz4nW-osi3DW8rqqpUhsyoqqAxEuInWd_ug6AbpnrErobuhj-QEHkX1G8zVJjh9yIEWS_2d3cS27dg9EQ6vPLcViTVJnqGdSOQqpSwYZhfd1xcL-Msxpu4zDuRtr3OBR1VcaHNVgnp_o16T1yqq_Kx2TSEkjTJr2T5rAxtnQ/s1297/1963-28-september-tallahassee-florida-usa-the-celebrated-rockstar-singer-and-composer-jim-morrison-1943-1971-of-the-doors-founded-in-1965-when-was-a-teenager-boy-aged-20-arrested-by-police-department-in-the-official-mug-shot-jim-had-been-ch.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="865" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkLmT7YouDPSvAqVTNXXz4nW-osi3DW8rqqpUhsyoqqAxEuInWd_ug6AbpnrErobuhj-QEHkX1G8zVJjh9yIEWS_2d3cS27dg9EQ6vPLcViTVJnqGdSOQqpSwYZhfd1xcL-Msxpu4zDuRtr3OBR1VcaHNVgnp_o16T1yqq_Kx2TSEkjTJr2T5rAxtnQ/s320/1963-28-september-tallahassee-florida-usa-the-celebrated-rockstar-singer-and-composer-jim-morrison-1943-1971-of-the-doors-founded-in-1965-when-was-a-teenager-boy-aged-20-arrested-by-police-department-in-the-official-mug-shot-jim-had-been-ch.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>James wanted to <u>separate</u> himself between the writer and the <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARY</u> rock performer he became. Sometimes when Jim tried to involve his audience and evolve a <u style="font-weight: bold;">feeling</u> onstage, the person in charge <u>halted</u> the show, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">abruptly</u> terminated the performance. Jim was arrested a couple of times, and in New Haven, CT, the police marched him offstage in handcuffs. Jim's writings reminded and evoked that of recent <u style="font-weight: bold;">histories</u> of the time of the 1960s. Jim once said <u>more</u> <u>than</u> <u>once</u>: <i style="font-weight: bold;">Life is a trip. I intend to enjoy it while I can</i>. - <i><u>James</u></i> <i><u>Douglas</u></i> <u><i>Morrison</i></u>. <p></p></div><div>It was around 5TH or 6TH grade when Jim wrote his <u>first</u> poem called <u style="font-style: italic;">The Pony Express</u> to which he can remember. Unless he let his hands do the work without his <u style="font-weight: bold;">thinking</u> about it; the writing itself would've been no good on May 21, 1954. Jim kept a lot of notebooks through high school and college - for some dumbfuck reason - maybe it was wise - but Jim threw them away. Living with <u style="font-weight: bold;">regret</u> with those actions. He thought of being hyponotized or taking sodium pentothal (<i>truth serum</i>) to try to remember, due to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">work</u> he put in those notebooks night after night. <u>But</u>, if they weren't thrown away, Jim never would've written <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> <u>original</u>. They were mainly accumulations of things James had <u>not</u> originated. If he never got rid of them; Jim would never have been <u>free</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>The lizard and the snake are identified with the unconscious and the forces of evil. The piece "<i><u>Celebration Of The Lizard</u></i>" was kind of an invitation to the dark forces. It's done with tongue-in-cheek. People <u>don't</u> realize that. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u>. It was meant for <u>irony</u>. Writing of his life and of the times that were alive-and-well in the eyes of Jim Morrison.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hhQyoR7VqFCW7Po_K7SV5qZswdUWqWkxl8lg_iLENLxckq8o2f-4wR422xdj6sTHgYbgIeTecBb1j8BZNgDnVIaO30LmzYfcMaYLp53V85xnLu4DWkxboiGLToUQbMTlQdn5BTXALwD5sTgxxRWfcHzae34cee6d04fEDWJS40veTbMC6OVtcG5OGQ/s1000/51VftApw2BL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hhQyoR7VqFCW7Po_K7SV5qZswdUWqWkxl8lg_iLENLxckq8o2f-4wR422xdj6sTHgYbgIeTecBb1j8BZNgDnVIaO30LmzYfcMaYLp53V85xnLu4DWkxboiGLToUQbMTlQdn5BTXALwD5sTgxxRWfcHzae34cee6d04fEDWJS40veTbMC6OVtcG5OGQ/s320/51VftApw2BL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>Jim relied on images of violence; which brought the <u style="font-style: italic;">shock</u> of pain, to penetrate the barriers people erect and defend, not <u>simple</u> defenses, the <u>phony</u> facades people left behind. Blocking their perceptions from coming in, and blocking their feelings from coming out. There were 2 ways Jim tried to shatter those facades, or at least make a hole where something can get in, to let the trapped feelings out - through violence and pain. When Jim wrote <u style="font-style: italic;">The New Creature</u>, he was <u>very</u> naive. It wasn't something that was born of <u>any</u> great <u>awareness</u> of the universe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Windows work two ways, mirrors one way. You never walk through mirrors or swim through windows. Jim would write <u style="font-weight: bold;">beautifully</u> even of the <b><u>most</u> </b><u>taboo</u> subjects. Hinting the matter but <b><u>never</u> </b><u>direct</u>. Jim did most <u style="font-style: italic;">The Lords</u> when was at film school <u style="font-style: italic;">UCLA</u>. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> was a thesis of film aesthestics. Jim <u>wasn't</u> able to make a film then, so all he could do was ponder and write about them. Alot of Jim's passages became <u>prophetic</u> several years later due to Jim <u style="font-weight: bold;">unknowingly</u> writing what has <u>yet</u> to happen. Jim writes in <u style="font-style: italic;">The Lords</u> about the feeling of powerlessness and helplessness that people have in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u>. No <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> control over what <u>controls</u> them. The closest is a TV set. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Lords</u> is a way to reclaim your own life.</div><div><br /></div><div>The day that Jim was <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> to <u>realize</u> that <u>no</u> <u>one</u> in the world knows any more about what's going on than any other person. Jim kind of lost interest in philosophy as a <u>study</u> of ideas, but philosophy <u style="font-weight: bold;">appreciated</u> from the standpoint of how men of the past have used words, used language. That is why poetry is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">Ultimate</u> form, it defies us as human beings in language. The way we talk, and the way we think is the way we act, and the way we act is the way we are. Soon our voices must unite us as one, or one must leave.</div><div><br /></div><div>If Jim's poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people from the limited ways in which we see & feel. Jim would write of events throughout <u style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORY</u> and find a way to make people <u style="font-weight: bold;">THINK!</u> The irony of human nature <u>is</u> your basic human being. Studying the psychology of others. We used to have <u style="font-style: italic;">Barnum & Bailey's</u>; <u style="font-style: italic;">Believe It Or Not</u>. We used to have TV news. Now we have news transcended from what's no longer <u style="font-weight: bold;">news</u>; but just viable entertainment for which overrides <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> news.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVSixHXvzKpm7gUI0CTrwCBGqqdFuTyHhbzM1AdtppjSL4KTp_BIfKB0fO0qWhjseZu2Dc7CW-7HhZpyy2nCmS8MzBV6dsayUakyB0EEG-m4h0MBSitMNpyc9ywdGD5VXVLgPUI6Z6cW3BxCPaRXgIjf0uQqPGrI2dZ5BmCMrvzemYqmpJh74SAUYDQ/s1280/notebooks-montage3.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1280" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVSixHXvzKpm7gUI0CTrwCBGqqdFuTyHhbzM1AdtppjSL4KTp_BIfKB0fO0qWhjseZu2Dc7CW-7HhZpyy2nCmS8MzBV6dsayUakyB0EEG-m4h0MBSitMNpyc9ywdGD5VXVLgPUI6Z6cW3BxCPaRXgIjf0uQqPGrI2dZ5BmCMrvzemYqmpJh74SAUYDQ/w400-h235/notebooks-montage3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>During the Miami trial, Jim took notes throughout the <u>entirety</u> of the trial itself. Jim said it himself; "<i>It is easier to accept what exists and adapt then try to change it</i>". There once was a group called <u style="font-style: italic;">The Doors</u> who sang their descents upon the mores. To be young they protested. As the witnesses attested, their leader was dropping his drawers. Jim wrote of what he seen in the trial/court. Keep up tales while taking notes and <u>observing</u>. The trial <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> was a trial. It was also an education into one's human nature. They had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> seen the judicial system in action. The process of a trial from the first day to the <u>very</u> last. Jim had to be there for <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u> - being the defendant - and it was fascinating; <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u> educational. Seeing this trial was a journalistic muse for Jim. Henceforth; the Paris journals are created/founded. Journalistic writings <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> written in Jim's <u style="font-weight: bold;">AUTHENTIC</u> handwriting.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2VjL3NRKngnQR1mVPJvUzA0NNv__9t-n9KICRUUqN8dN8eb7hwjvVGfe2HSLW3wRX2WAZ-osDWLwcMiqz0uGfcjQo5kuswv19PM5VA8k7V8kT83WP9Fv3pVuhi-oPEPAaZaivjjD5JL4nKVJBmD2HhvJuFsYhLmZi8RH5MeQHRjV3JcPopjMllhrMpA/s1000/Johann-Wolfgang-von-Goethe.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1000" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2VjL3NRKngnQR1mVPJvUzA0NNv__9t-n9KICRUUqN8dN8eb7hwjvVGfe2HSLW3wRX2WAZ-osDWLwcMiqz0uGfcjQo5kuswv19PM5VA8k7V8kT83WP9Fv3pVuhi-oPEPAaZaivjjD5JL4nKVJBmD2HhvJuFsYhLmZi8RH5MeQHRjV3JcPopjMllhrMpA/w200-h169/Johann-Wolfgang-von-Goethe.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Johann Wolfgang von Goethe</td></tr></tbody></table><br />"<i>Optical illusion is optical truth</i>. <i>It's sacrilege to say that there is such a thing as optical fraud.</i>" - Goethe</div><div><br /></div><div>Jim's words, although written in his time, speak <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOUDLY</u> to resonate <b><u>TODAY</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><u style="font-weight: bold;">Proving</u> time-and-time again how much Jim's words speak that he is <u>indeed</u> a MOSIAC.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jim <u style="font-weight: bold;">literally</u> took his words and what he wrote in-studio sessions and completed them with photo stills with a detail match.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jim's interest in film was due to it being the <u>closest</u> approximation in art that we have to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">actual</u> flow of consciousness, in both fantasy and in the everyday perception of the world. Jim <u>liked</u> to write. Some were for music. Some weren't fit for it until he finished it in post. Songs are <u>special</u>. Music liberates the imagination. When Jim sang his songs in public, it was a dramatic act, but not just acting in a theater, but as a social act with <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> action. </div><div><br /></div><div>Jim had a habit, much like other writers, wrote on <u style="font-weight: bold;">whatever</u> miscellaneous he could write on... <i>envelopes</i>, <i>napkins</i>...<i>etc</i>. Jim wrote of what he knew. He also wrote with a voice of the times that would become and still is <b><u>TIMELESS</u> <u>&</u> <u>LEGENDARY</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><br /></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DNb1-CwzRgSRifAB_YsVgqAmS5GB8Iiuy6EIxucOBHVYbjK5-Gl9YHQDa6_La38IBHcwUEWAkSjm1iRWyrRQ5m8ILdr30MNK38dWn2q6Pq0GjXw6CLhUz1vULdfoMcUhCyL1cN_r4tY6KMHIUnNI26ZUld12Jwb3v2MyhxKe8kaiWJanVw1gpjcnNQ/s3821/Jim+Morrison.+1968+Los+Angeles,+backstage.+Doors.+12_+x+18_.+Glossy+paper.+Signed+in+blue+bottom+right.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3821" data-original-width="2500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DNb1-CwzRgSRifAB_YsVgqAmS5GB8Iiuy6EIxucOBHVYbjK5-Gl9YHQDa6_La38IBHcwUEWAkSjm1iRWyrRQ5m8ILdr30MNK38dWn2q6Pq0GjXw6CLhUz1vULdfoMcUhCyL1cN_r4tY6KMHIUnNI26ZUld12Jwb3v2MyhxKe8kaiWJanVw1gpjcnNQ/w418-h640/Jim+Morrison.+1968+Los+Angeles,+backstage.+Doors.+12_+x+18_.+Glossy+paper.+Signed+in+blue+bottom+right.jpg" width="418" /></a></div> James 'Jim" Douglas Morrison <div> (1943-1971)<br /><div><br /><b> </b></div></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-5006048873785945242023-03-21T15:51:00.005-07:002023-03-21T17:25:39.600-07:00Waypoints: My Scottish Journey<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc_-XNRwCaG0MBnV3CkC1IepgBblEBolYJaVEV0iyVEYo03yslLgIJPnMDRAuj3RS6Tc689GkhS6fhRVcqzyxZKb6HtV118J3zwB7eupZCn2YT8uBY4yZKbMzRLRLJgWCd-1cL710bjQc3Dxsh-17JooLu5qcuRM1EhCWyEVOblgxjI0dpzXIYyxBlSg/s800/9780316495738.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc_-XNRwCaG0MBnV3CkC1IepgBblEBolYJaVEV0iyVEYo03yslLgIJPnMDRAuj3RS6Tc689GkhS6fhRVcqzyxZKb6HtV118J3zwB7eupZCn2YT8uBY4yZKbMzRLRLJgWCd-1cL710bjQc3Dxsh-17JooLu5qcuRM1EhCWyEVOblgxjI0dpzXIYyxBlSg/w250-h400/9780316495738.webp" width="250" /></a></div> This book, which begins the <u style="font-weight: bold;">journey</u> of 2023, is one that ventures on the arduous trek of one <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEAUTIFUL</u> Scottish man's journey across the West Highland Way to a metaphor of a story to who he is <u>TODAY</u>! While this book tells of his journals/adventures, it <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">also</b> tells of his <u style="font-weight: bold;">PERSONAL</u> story of <u style="font-weight: bold;">GROWING</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">UP</u> to be one of the stars that had to <u>find</u> out who <u>HE</u> is. This is the story of a man who took his life and <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEARNED</u> from it. Here are <u>those</u> lessons from <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u>'s own, Sam Roland Heughan.<p></p><p>When Sam walks into a room, the <u>first</u> thing people <u style="font-weight: bold;">notice</u> is how open his face is. <u style="font-style: italic;">Nervous</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">alert</u> and open to the world, <u>trusting</u>. The formality and potential stress of the encounter - a director auditioning an actor for their <u>professional</u> first theatrical role - has not dimmed his eyes or upset his equilibrium. But, for the most part, the audition process can be a <u style="font-weight: bold;">grueling</u> one, <u>especially</u> for the actor. You naturally withhold a part of yourself out of self-presentation. An armor with a cloak of silent charm. The more difficult the challenge, the more we show who we are when we rise to it. This includes the foreboding <u style="font-weight: bold;">unforgettable</u> end of Season 1 of <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u>. The reality of the return journey distorts the memory of the outward as a breeze. Sam has come a <u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u> way to be here! A creative urge can take people in various directions. While visiting a cabin, Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">taken</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> by its majestic surroundings. Along with his brother, Cirdan, and the female cabin owner, they toured the location. Among the tour when left alone, Sam <u>marvels</u> in <u style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORY</u> of where he is. As he moves closer to a stack of shelves, interested in what he'll find, only to register not a book or a DVD that is <u>all</u> <u>too</u> familiar with him. Aside from the films, Sam runs his fingers along the side of books. He didn't have to go far to find a library copy of the first title in a series that is soon to be adapted for television. For which Sam has read them <b><u>ALL</u>!</b> There is a little weight to it, as if it's just a prompt for a response. Little did Sam know, he held the key to his future before returning the book before he was caught. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YVOnk36XjZ7NAWuIzQPyxO0hG82apnppS3rFT8Sf1gVafSTNQbY2ysCG7Q_fKEmlyPeH6BU64qk6vnXRTiS--B7jNqQSJVR5zRn8zXhQTC_2G7xBsv1h72hwhyFL-pS1WUg8m--l4l_8j34rJZ4yusbuh8MU92Heq4naK_1oSp8_22-dHPDTwAgX8g/s1280/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YVOnk36XjZ7NAWuIzQPyxO0hG82apnppS3rFT8Sf1gVafSTNQbY2ysCG7Q_fKEmlyPeH6BU64qk6vnXRTiS--B7jNqQSJVR5zRn8zXhQTC_2G7xBsv1h72hwhyFL-pS1WUg8m--l4l_8j34rJZ4yusbuh8MU92Heq4naK_1oSp8_22-dHPDTwAgX8g/s320/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam loves being busy. But by rights, he should be <u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u> loafing in sweats doing <u>absolutely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u>. But, he <u>can't</u> seem to shut his mind off. He feels restless. He can't sleep at night; only a doze throughout the day. What feels like quiet downtime feels like a <u>dull</u> blur. After 2 cups of coffee, Sam is able to take in the day. Sam is <u>annoyed</u> with himself due to looking forward to a <u>well</u>-<u>deserved</u> break. He craves downtime, but he feels guilty if he's not grafting and pushing himself in some capacity. With the world <u>changing</u> and the season taking a <u style="font-weight: bold;">harder</u> undertone, while it was shorter, it left Sam feeling <u>wiped</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">worn</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">exhausted</u>. Looking <u>forward</u> to his break of the show's hiatus. During the height of the pandemic, Sam dwelled on how <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">much</b> it had touched <u>every</u> aspect of their lives. Sam had only just returned to Scotland, leaving finished work on a movie with Celine Dion called <u style="font-style: italic;">It's All Coming Back To Me</u>. With mask quarantine and separation for safety, along with the slush and melting snow surrounding. . . Sam felt <u>another</u> challenge arise. Whenever Sam was away from the camera, he would find himself drawn to the views of his atmosphere. In Jamie's tattered wardrobe, Sam would <b><u>take</u></b> <u><b>in</b></u> his <u>surroundings</u> off-camera.<p></p><div>So, on the last day of the shoot, Sam arranged with another actor who shared his love of running up to get <u style="font-weight: bold;">UP</u> long before their call time and lace up a pair of shoes to trail. The cold air breeze woke Sam <u>up</u> as they jogged the land. They were beginning to find their stride, but mostly Sam was <u>focused</u> on his feet due to the reluctancy to real-off excuses. <u style="font-style: italic;">The West Highland Way</u> was on Sam's to-do list. The opportunity handed itself to him, quite <u>literally</u> and yet Sam always seemed <u>too</u> <u>busy</u> to do anything about it. But, <u>ironically</u> Sam loved being outdoors. He had even founded a charity dedicated to <u>encouraging</u> people to take in challenges and enjoy happy, healthy lives. Yet, Sam was <b><u>embarrassed</u></b> that he hadn't put his money where his mouth was and walked his <u>own</u> country's trails.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_qKWF-082IpPZhkXYeugg28niIEnQeWzPGn--ooEZT7up5Z3yAM1ekOVYB13C_7dtqb5F9wo1kZfP3mLPBnEDJR8UA3VAJ1SnYDAwRqGIu7y8JFKNZlMnFcbZAGS0OgZ8uN9wm0_tCgTcS2UDxRRj-xB91JfoeizG3IXV6R2YdTSyqLBaJPXjDdWAg/s1280/ols6-ka-stz-tag-newseas-mar6-1280x720-1.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_qKWF-082IpPZhkXYeugg28niIEnQeWzPGn--ooEZT7up5Z3yAM1ekOVYB13C_7dtqb5F9wo1kZfP3mLPBnEDJR8UA3VAJ1SnYDAwRqGIu7y8JFKNZlMnFcbZAGS0OgZ8uN9wm0_tCgTcS2UDxRRj-xB91JfoeizG3IXV6R2YdTSyqLBaJPXjDdWAg/s320/ols6-ka-stz-tag-newseas-mar6-1280x720-1.webp" width="320" /></a></div>As much as Sam liked to make mischief, it was still <u>very</u> early on the trip. This took place around the last day of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">hardest</u> season of shooting the previous season 7. Sam's heart lifted and he was <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">excited</i> to escape the COVID protocols and the tough schedule that had dictated the days, weeks & months of the shoot. By the time they arrived back at the hotel, Sam had just enough time for a <u>quick</u> shower to get back on the road to Hollywood.</div><div><br /></div><div>The <u>final</u> day of shooting was just as <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> as any</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9D235i--qT7-sSl9Rjeq-6S5WeDgG2V9SiD4D-ZcDLKFtguvNEgXwtX1Mjcfx3MYwfoal-r7nbqTJ_S3s_DujIcKBVfz0uaRA3vWHMJav_5Z2mwsn3ZbePwJIyJrGk4p6LZEqAKvF16f_gdrKWg6fu_psT5I3uVuJzaVLEBoYQBLkR3of3nhDKWLZaw/s1051/4cfa24eaa0e79c4b1a2844b8d737e170.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1051" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9D235i--qT7-sSl9Rjeq-6S5WeDgG2V9SiD4D-ZcDLKFtguvNEgXwtX1Mjcfx3MYwfoal-r7nbqTJ_S3s_DujIcKBVfz0uaRA3vWHMJav_5Z2mwsn3ZbePwJIyJrGk4p6LZEqAKvF16f_gdrKWg6fu_psT5I3uVuJzaVLEBoYQBLkR3of3nhDKWLZaw/s320/4cfa24eaa0e79c4b1a2844b8d737e170.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>other. The <u>last</u> scene to film was to open the season. Sam wanted to return to a semblance of <u>normalcy</u> on his motorbike. He could be <u>lax</u> and <u>unwind</u> at home. With <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> commitments for a week, Sam planned to do <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolutely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u>. He decided to celebrate by taking the <u>long</u> scenic route waving goodbye to his location as he passed. Sam then studies the route on the map to his next destination. Scribbling on scrap paper, Sam attempts to calculate his destination. Due to his workout regime, Sam is in good shape <u>physically</u> along with the occasional run, and blind optimism. He has a <u>short</u> time-frame to do it but it <u>can</u> be done. Sam <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">never</b> knew where the opportunity would arise again. <u>In</u> <u>that</u> <u>moment</u>. . . .he <b><u>HAD</u> <u>TO</u> <u>GET</u> <u>SHIT</u> <u>DONE</u>!</b> and <b><u>SMASH</u> <u>IT</u> <u>OUT</u>!</b> He hadn't <u>properly</u> camped out since his cub scout days. (<i>He loved collecting the badges</i>.) Having made a <u>rash</u> decision, he knew he would have to act <u>fast</u>. Not only does he intend to act fast, it would be the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> deal.</div><div><br /></div><div>From the moment Sam started browsing, he felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> unprepared. After gathering his belongings that he would <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u>, he finally navigated his way to the counter for the <u>simple</u> reason he couldn't carry more. That evening, having returned home <u>confident</u> that he would have what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u>, he laid out meticulously to prepare himself both <u style="font-weight: bold;">physically</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">mentally</u> with his own checklist of sorts. As he put himself to bed, <u>mental</u> anxiety plagued him. Considering what he does for work on <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u>, he is <b><u>set</u></b> to become <i><u>Sam The Wanderer</u></i>. In his mind, Sam had cooked an epic odyssey. Little did he know, it rained a relentless rainstorm outside, he wondered if he should <u>cancel</u> it all and ask for a refund. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Sam Roland Heughan was born on April 30, 1980 in the county of Dumfries & Galloway. Sam recalls a memory where he is halfway on the stairwell of the cottage he lived in his <u>first</u> few years of life. The <u>separation</u> of his parents in other rooms in the same room. . . living together but <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">together</u> affected his <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> form of being. He recalls feeling torn. Despite having his parents part company when Sam was only 18 months old; he experienced <u>only</u> love. They only had 2 sons; Sam's older brother, Cirdan & Sam. Their dad was a huge fan of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Lord Of The Rings</u>, naming Cirdan after one of the characters. Sam's mom had a treasured special edition that read over-and-over again. He was enamorately <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">love</u> with the book series. It felt like reading a spellbook from the series. Sam, himself, was adventurous who could also be quite sensitive. Leading the charge when left to his own devices, but in company Sam prefers to not be the <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUS</u> of attention. He observes from the sidelines. When Sam was 18 months old, his father left and <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> came back.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoDh169p8MNvv1B4OSE0igozNFAAhkHNj7iQ7KLIC968dwmnmOlR8DlR0tzf_FlT8GPkcUoKjZxZMIpvyC7ac454dHWnsnjJIQupuD2xbUSXCC8Le5hNjL0nsDP3KNCzfAN_OUhWwWAiTsaTTrAPTZq4F-l5zjDIo4f8tA3Lkexu64uPS2KIRASzLbA/s640/8770250a58bd50ef7ea0bdf2bd44cede.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="623" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoDh169p8MNvv1B4OSE0igozNFAAhkHNj7iQ7KLIC968dwmnmOlR8DlR0tzf_FlT8GPkcUoKjZxZMIpvyC7ac454dHWnsnjJIQupuD2xbUSXCC8Le5hNjL0nsDP3KNCzfAN_OUhWwWAiTsaTTrAPTZq4F-l5zjDIo4f8tA3Lkexu64uPS2KIRASzLbA/s320/8770250a58bd50ef7ea0bdf2bd44cede.jpg" width="312" /></a></div>As Sam grew up and moved on to his surroundings and the people in it, Sam became <u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> that their mother did <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> to create a family for Sam and his brother. With what the world had done, their mother buried herself into her boys. As a family of 3, the Heughan family settled into <u>HOME</u> of New Galloway. A courtyard with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u> community atmosphere. People left their doors unlocked. They looked out for one another. it was a network and it felt <u>calm</u> having been built on <u style="font-weight: bold;">trust</u>. In the wake of his dad's departure, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">valued</u> that. Sam was <b><u>trul</u>y</b> surrounded by families in some ways. Sam's may not have resembled them, or the kind he saw on their black-and-white TV, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> felt anything was missing. His mom made sure of <u>that</u>. With what the atmosphere of Scotland gave...<u style="font-weight: bold;">plenty</u> of room for imaginary play. While <u>today</u>, Sam would like to be invisible in the crowd, he'd <b><u>HATE</u></b> to be that guy who disappoints.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Sam was growing up, there was a difference of 5 years between he and Cirdan. Sam looks up to Cirdan <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>. In some ways, due to the age difference, Cirdan was like a father figure to him. CIrdan has always been <u>very</u> practical. One whom <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">always</b> worked with what he had at his disposal was a quality Sam <u>really</u> admired. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to work with his hands and could <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> quite <u style="font-weight: bold;">perfect</u> it like his brother. Cirdan's experience of their dad's departure was <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u> different from Sam's. Cridan was <u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> of what happened, with Sam having <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> memory growing up of life with parents. Cirdan <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> their dad; but Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> knew a voice on the phone on his 10TH birthday. Sam often asked about his dad, but his mom <u>pressed</u> <u>on</u>, while Cirdan just ignored the subject. He could be <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredibly</u> nonchalant and <u style="font-style: italic;">chill</u>, but Sam seen it was a protective mechanism. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">FORCED</u> Sam to <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEAL</u> with the emotions of family life. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> his mom was <u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">go</u> and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to help. There was only <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> a young boy could do. It certainly left Sam feeling the <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to please people.</div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNx4C4cDbpqN4I8-hmnT5Gjqs3YgWRc-m7lOj83pz4YUgdw2M6Wkz7QCPQIemMHsL7UR7T0bmnn7dd_qy7eclrjZY6sbcNlhSL7k0ZMhY6dsp5WY76woLfkfjww4U-hALmszAVfn9ZuMW-Olif8On2omRsg_vrzqiH04eJ1PrEFAPw5I6dmRg2Z9iYQ/s770/93f7622b3e6ed5bd.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="770" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNx4C4cDbpqN4I8-hmnT5Gjqs3YgWRc-m7lOj83pz4YUgdw2M6Wkz7QCPQIemMHsL7UR7T0bmnn7dd_qy7eclrjZY6sbcNlhSL7k0ZMhY6dsp5WY76woLfkfjww4U-hALmszAVfn9ZuMW-Olif8On2omRsg_vrzqiH04eJ1PrEFAPw5I6dmRg2Z9iYQ/s320/93f7622b3e6ed5bd.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cirdan & Sam</td></tr></tbody></table>Living in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">heart</u> of the Scottish countryside, Sam & Cirdan <u style="font-weight: bold;">certainly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">made</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> of being outdoors. They both loved to fish. Sam would try to tag-along with his brother whenever possible. Sam wasn't cut out to deal with one <u>practicality</u>. He could <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">deal</b> with the fish. . .not the removal of it. Sam's mom was <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> at making sure her son was <u style="font-weight: bold;">CARED</u> about on his own device; food. . .etc. Unwilling to hurt any living thing, Sam would fish out to <u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> his surroundings and <b><u>QUIET</u>!</b> He didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">have</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">deal</u> with <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> and he <u>adored</u> it. In some ways, it was Sam's first taste of acting. It allowed him to <u>be</u> himself by pretending to be someone else. </div><div><br /></div><div>In school, Sam had 4 friends that summoned the total of kids in his year group. The situation in its <u>entirety</u> focused on 20 kids. On weekends, they'd hang out the way they couldn't on the schoolyard. For a kid, Sam was creating a family in his friendships. Sam had this one friend - Annie - whom Sam grew up with since infancy due to their mother's friendships. They, Sam & Annie, grew up together in <u>many</u> ways, including each other's <u>first</u> kiss when they were 10 on a game of <u>pure</u> experimentation - then they were just back to being damn good friends. Even as Sam's <u>feelings</u> for the opposite sex grew <u style="font-weight: bold;">stronger</u>; he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> have much <u>confidence</u> in himself. Sam was <u>very</u> tall for his age. At a time when everyone is getting to grips with their <u>identity</u>; it made Sam feel like he stood out for the wrong reasons. Sam had poor eyesight. His mom couldn't afford proper glasses with no insurance, so he wore a NHS pair with <u style="font-weight: bold;">thick</u> lenses. He was <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">so</b> self-conscious that he <u>couldn't</u> make himself wear them in school. As a result, Sam couldn't read the blackboard for <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. Content with his friends, Sam was cool with hanging back. Occupy the outside edge. Although his eyesight wasn't good, it meant he could listen & take notes.</div><div><br /></div><div>On one occasion, towards the end of school, Sam found himself the victim of a school bully with <u>nowhere</u> to hide. Just a kid asserting his authority. A rowdy, confident kid with Sam minding his own. All this kid did was shove Sam into a locker. Enough for him to respond - <u>unaware</u> of his own strength - Sam threw his bully into the urinals. <u>Immediately</u> apologizing, the kid looked at Sam, bruised & shocked. At first, he thought the kid would come at him vying for a fight. Instead, the kid grinned at Sam as if he missed out on a joke, from there a friendship <u>formed</u>. That kid <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> picked on anyone else again. Sam even trusted the kid to pull out a wobbly tooth for him, which Sam pocketed for later. Sam's not really on touch with any of his old classmates; but <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> can take away the times that would define him for <u>always</u> moving around. As an actor, it was something Sam adapted to. It was the <u>catalyst</u> that made it hard for Sam to put down roots. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> had friends like the ones he had in this age bracket of time... Does anyone? </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp6pQqc290_tdchn5sWlmAazxH2Hdwac6LeZO9BFdQ3_EtLOEyeo14uuK3TNE7L7KqCBjluxTFZ7jBM2wCe8JLIyfxvFWV8LMT40kHd6pG4i9eYFGHK8PmQhbuDsBaiQEVWdeXFLGej6wNFsXGiRt4MEF29q8OGM79YfsMmeJwYJFELpCDNkcyzscNA/s300/ECA%20LOGO%202014%20GREY%20STACK-300px.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="120" data-original-width="300" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp6pQqc290_tdchn5sWlmAazxH2Hdwac6LeZO9BFdQ3_EtLOEyeo14uuK3TNE7L7KqCBjluxTFZ7jBM2wCe8JLIyfxvFWV8LMT40kHd6pG4i9eYFGHK8PmQhbuDsBaiQEVWdeXFLGej6wNFsXGiRt4MEF29q8OGM79YfsMmeJwYJFELpCDNkcyzscNA/s1600/ECA%20LOGO%202014%20GREY%20STACK-300px.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Picking a path through his teenage years, Sam began to see life with more clarity. It wasn't just growing up and confronting feelings, and the needs of people around him, it was more of the fact that Sam was wearing contact lenses. After <u>years</u> of feeling too awkward to wear his glasses, Sam's mom took him to the optician for an alternative. The contact lenses felt like a revelational miracle cure. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">literally</u> changed the way that Sam <u>sees</u> the world. It <u>didn't</u> change his confidence, but his vision prior was a contributor for why he held himself back. By the time Sam wore contacts, the place where he kept to himself became second nature to him. His contacts not only allowed him to <u>see</u> but <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> the world. Sam felt like a late starter in life, but one with a newfound <u>confidence</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">attention</u> to detail. Shortly after his life came into <u>sharper</u> focus, at an age when Sam & Cirdan were coming into their own, their mom applied to art school through the <u style="font-style: italic;">Edinburgh College Of Art</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mquh9b5raUUrwIg-a5a2aW0TkJZLyXZfTw791P5iIxywAmvJHTQhmfVDPxqYESxorZY4jM09xLlq0U7I9SJsRFWUEiNxgZRG9gzb2upQzTeG46A0ZJNTgJhzrW0ba4J9BQsTolhjZ350jGyzTUj5hUeE9DZna4fTUww4yV7MzQWDpOMHLBeGfx2AWg/s254/images.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="199" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mquh9b5raUUrwIg-a5a2aW0TkJZLyXZfTw791P5iIxywAmvJHTQhmfVDPxqYESxorZY4jM09xLlq0U7I9SJsRFWUEiNxgZRG9gzb2upQzTeG46A0ZJNTgJhzrW0ba4J9BQsTolhjZ350jGyzTUj5hUeE9DZna4fTUww4yV7MzQWDpOMHLBeGfx2AWg/s1600/images.jpeg" width="199" /></a></div>Having devoted herself to her boys, the time had come for their mom to find and pursue her <u>first</u> love once more. It was such a thrill for his mom to learn she was going to be studying fine art. It also allowed them to move from their rural home to the bright lights for a big city. Off to a <u>whole</u> <u>new</u> <u>world</u> they went. It was a big change for these young boys; but also very exciting. Sam had just finished middle school and on his way to high school at the rate of his peers. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelming</u> to begin from scratch, but without the dreaded spectacles. Sam began to make friends and make himself <u>comfortable</u> in a crowd. <u style="font-style: italic;">James Gillepsie's High School</u> was run with <u style="font-weight: bold;">anarchy</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u> on rules & discipline. With chaos around, as a boy who was happy. . .just happy to fit in, rather than stand out in a crowd, Sam had his head down and studied <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam never liked to get in trouble with authority, even if it was invited. Mostly, Sam avoided the warnings and reprimands. On one occasion, Sam came close to getting in trouble from the TOP! He was given a badge in school <u>perfect</u>; which Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> that included theft of milk carton that Sam was supposed to dole out. It was the <u>first</u> where Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">tested</u> to hold his nerve and tell <u style="font-weight: bold;">belivable</u> bullshit story. <u>Ultimately</u>, it taught Sam that it was possible if he delivered with <u style="font-weight: bold;">conviction</u>. Sam only spent a year at this school due to his mother wanting him to explore his artistic side. Sam was pitched on the idea that he might <u>thrive</u> on a <u>steiner</u> education. He went for a week and <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> looked back. Instead of feeling trapped in a <u>school</u>, Sam felt <u style="font-style: italic;">relaxed</u> & liberated. There was no uniform; so Sam wore jeans and tie-dyed T-Shirts. Even then, Sam was cool and tried to fit in with artistic kids. He also wanted to make an impression on young ladies; who seemed smart, sophisticated & grown-up. <u style="font-style: italic;">Steiner</u> kids really did seem different, open, kind & inclusive. With his <u style="font-weight: bold;">boldness</u>, Sam was able to make friends <u>quickly</u>. After a while Sam could be himself, as everyone else. Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> a loner. . .he was always more <u>contained</u>. Now, he has friendships that continue <u>to</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>. Thanks to his mother, this new school felt like a second home.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbb9Qq1p_nCkSozVyFynvZbARM1CGOtO9oXysrbBWZXQTEtG78O4jg0UFoI7dsP9xevV_iJc4XQh12GwfnTh8Ov8MOKteYd1ByVWc3GKKSLT4ABiIdlDSUAsN3k7tmszVaq4vDcJWWm5UCSNU-bpdxC0676klpWXlLORbxz1m2wmOCtNtOoBNBaayew/s300/Christina-Grohman-The-Prodigious-Snob-215x300.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="215" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbb9Qq1p_nCkSozVyFynvZbARM1CGOtO9oXysrbBWZXQTEtG78O4jg0UFoI7dsP9xevV_iJc4XQh12GwfnTh8Ov8MOKteYd1ByVWc3GKKSLT4ABiIdlDSUAsN3k7tmszVaq4vDcJWWm5UCSNU-bpdxC0676klpWXlLORbxz1m2wmOCtNtOoBNBaayew/s1600/Christina-Grohman-The-Prodigious-Snob-215x300.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>Aside from standard lessons, they did everything from sketching to sculpting and <u>more</u>. They were encouraged to punish themselves for their misbehavior. Best of all, the school encouraged students to <u>express</u> <u>themselves</u>. As someone who felt content with standing in the wings of life. . . <u>suddenly</u> Sam was in the spotlight and it blew him away. The stage was the <u>last</u> place Sam thought he would be <u>comfortable</u> on stage. To his surprise, he was just <u>completely</u> <u>loved</u><u style="font-style: italic;">relaxed</u>. Why? Because playing a role is being in <u>someone</u> <u>else's</u> shoes. When you're in character, it <u>allows</u> you to express what you <u>normally</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldn't</u> everyday. . .And Sam <u>loved</u> it. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> to learn; but performing felt like a calling. One of the first plays Sam got involved with was Moliere's <u style="font-style: italic;">The Prodigious Snob</u>; a satire on social status where Sam was the lead. In the first performance, Sam hit his marks, delivered his lines and went with every emotion & impulse. Sam felt <u>free</u> and <u>alive</u>, with <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> restraints. What he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> <b><u>expect</u></b> was the audience response. They laughed in the right places, which was an <u>incredible</u> feeling. Like Sam had a connection with these people. They were in this <u>together</u>. As the play progressed, they were <b><u>FOCUSED</u> <u>&</u> </b><u>intent</u>. . .And that was when Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> forgot his lines. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Completely</u> going <u>blank</u> for a minute before a prompt <u style="font-weight: bold;">snapped</u> him into <b><u>REALITY</u>!</b> Chalking it up to an amateur moment that Sam will <b><u>NEVER</u> <u>FORGET</u>!</b> A first . . but certainly not the last time it would happen. Sam was a young teenager whom found this calling. A passion Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">cared</u> about. Just as Cirdan found his calling on a bicycle, Sam found his on the stage. He enjoyed it, and crucially he didn't suck at it. He had alot to learn. . .but that was the basis of its appeal.</div><div><br /></div><div>With the spark ignited, Sam's mom encouraged the flame by taking him to see plays at a theatre in Edinburgh. Money was still <u>tight</u>, but the theatre offered free preview nights. Tickets for a <u>small</u> fee that lasted for 2 matinees. Sam found himself transported by the <u style="font-weight: bold;">STORY</u> unfolding before him onstage. He loved the darkness, as if the world shut down for these moments. The moments of what were happening before him infixed a young Sam. It allowed him to see the inner workings of what his future would hold as an actor. A chance to see behind <u style="font-style: italic;">Oz</u>'s curtain if you will. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Appreciate</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">and</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> what Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">seeing</u>. Moments that would transport the audience to another time/place. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkc7TLh2FnKs6krIXJJnTKcB5rl3fIyMoancf9AJwiFvE45rqe7jS6k5OzXGqMLfRkUtHDcsta43c_vXPi2NC3B4HHNpQSipuOXDizPTod2nVqe0ErStMt967rEmd6K7GBKfxHrPH8indX_uHgwwZi1_PCv3a_k6iiHx4l29wr2DU_WPobADxKaHvwZQ/s577/d526a0ee86d6d87640054df87c15f25f1862c2c1efc5cb8f2df437f3411c8f0e._UY500_UX667_RI_V_TTW_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="91" data-original-width="577" height="50" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkc7TLh2FnKs6krIXJJnTKcB5rl3fIyMoancf9AJwiFvE45rqe7jS6k5OzXGqMLfRkUtHDcsta43c_vXPi2NC3B4HHNpQSipuOXDizPTod2nVqe0ErStMt967rEmd6K7GBKfxHrPH8indX_uHgwwZi1_PCv3a_k6iiHx4l29wr2DU_WPobADxKaHvwZQ/s320/d526a0ee86d6d87640054df87c15f25f1862c2c1efc5cb8f2df437f3411c8f0e._UY500_UX667_RI_V_TTW_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>During his teenage years, Sam would see multiple plays in the making. His <u>favorite</u> was the Scottish version of <u style="font-style: italic;">King Arthur</u> called <u style="font-style: italic;">Merlin</u>. . .working it to their style. Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> blown away. It was so passionate from beginning to end. Sam was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">wandering</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">amazement</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>By then, Sam had seen enough plays to know that his heart skipped a beat when the curtain opened. Sam was <u>completely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">captivated</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>from start-to-finish. The theater had become a playground for these moments. A <u>safe</u> place to <u style="font-weight: bold;">express</u> his emotions/himself. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> spending time there. So, when Sam spotted a part-time vacancy for an usher, he <u>jumped</u> at the opportunity. For a teenager with a love of theater, it was the <u>perfect</u> job. Sam's shifts were in the evenings/weekends, so they fitted around school. It was his <u>dream</u> environment, so it <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> felt like work. <u>No</u> <u>matter</u> the tedious and repeat showings, Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> captivated. No matter the production, Sam was just happy to be involved.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKLrQYpMjCaYkVjcOgBMsvvE3qUQ9lkUmoJLK6_Qmr0PRFZL06WffDseq6z-vjoXLTy5u6ajrY9UbM6d56rtzj6A3mcRDL_tw5J-mb1sgC3mDWb56yBzZlnrvOx6PUvFaIyPRatqjMogZKBGpnL30l2KkLDW-kpn3rs470Tf35gqLzdfs_b8hR85lMA/s300/download.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKLrQYpMjCaYkVjcOgBMsvvE3qUQ9lkUmoJLK6_Qmr0PRFZL06WffDseq6z-vjoXLTy5u6ajrY9UbM6d56rtzj6A3mcRDL_tw5J-mb1sgC3mDWb56yBzZlnrvOx6PUvFaIyPRatqjMogZKBGpnL30l2KkLDW-kpn3rs470Tf35gqLzdfs_b8hR85lMA/s1600/download.png" width="300" /></a></div>Aside from working, Sam enjoyed the accompaniment of his friends. Riding bikes, playing video and board games. <u style="font-style: italic;">Fantasy</u> was the genre that <u>bonded</u> them. The genre of video games <u>enriched</u> Sam's interest in theater. Even so, Sam lacked the confidence to set his sights on drama school. Nor was he <u style="font-weight: bold;">convinced</u> that acting was his path. Instead, as one term led to another, Sam found himself applying to universities that hosted his passions. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Academically</u>, Sam did enough to get by. <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> was where his <u>flourished</u>; but he drowned in <u style="font-style: italic;">Math</u> & <u style="font-style: italic;">Science</u>. Coasting by to get the courses he needed to pass, hoping it would follow everyone else into higher education. It came as a relief when the <u style="font-style: italic;">University Of Aberdeen</u> offered Sam placement on their <i><u>English</u> </i> & <u style="font-style: italic;">Film</u> studies degree. Sam wasn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u> into it. Once the excitement dimmed, Sam began to question his life's choices. So, having deferred from school, Sam left school intent on spending the next year figuring out his life's purpose. It <u>truly</u> was an exciting moment to try to find his <u>true</u> identity after the fact.</div><div><br /></div><div>With school <u>officially</u> behind him, Sam joined his <u>core</u> group of 4 friends to go travelling for <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">REAL</b> adventure. First, they visited Lativia & Estonia, staying in brickhouses and drinking in <u>cheap</u> bars. From there, they decided to venture across the Russian border to check out St. Petersberg and get some culture. They had <u>all</u><u> the correct</u> documentation, but they were heading out of their <u>comfort</u> zone. Any <u>uneasiness</u> Sam felt, disappointed when he was chatting up the bravado with the other lads. They occupied a 4-person compartment in the train carriage, chatting & laughing while taking in the chili & cold atmosphere outside that represented their childhoods. Sam tried to put the coldness behind his train of thought as they <u>settled</u> for the night; only to find himself in what felt like a Cold War movie. The sound of the atmosphere in the train disturbed their <u>slumber</u>. A soldier entered their compartment, shining a light in their faces and shouted <u style="font-weight: bold;">aggressively</u> in Russian. </div><div><br /></div><div>During the ticket inspection, Sam felt <b><u style="font-style: italic;">terrified</u>!</b> Blearily, they rose to their feet to retrieve their papers. Sam kept his in his backpack, which he stored in the overhead storage bin. As his turn came, Sam reached for it, only to dislodge one of his boots, which Sam <u>stuffed</u> his paperwork in the boot. The boot came down <u>before</u> he could grab it, hitting the soldier <u>square</u> in the face. Sam's face/eyes were in horror with him being <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">horrified</i>, the soldier didn't even blink. He just waited for Sam to present his papers. </div><div><br /></div><div>This time, Sam retrieved his passport and ticket. As he tried to gather himself, Sam glanced down. To his <u style="font-weight: bold;">horrific</u> dismay, seen the Swiss Army knife he carried with him. In a rush of packing, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">FORGOT</u> he had it on his person. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">TERRIFIED</u> for his liberty. Without hesitation as the soldier acclaimed the visa stamps in his passports, Sam tried to kick the knife from himself. As he did so, the soldier looked at Sam and glowed. He only broke eye contact with Sam when another object dropped out of Sam's property, which Sam still uselessly held back. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> with him as part of a gagging joke. A stuffed lion that fell onto the floor <u>saved</u> Sam's ass. The soldier returned Sam his documentation, then <u>silently</u> cursed him out. Nobody dared to <u>correct</u> this man. Better to alleviate trouble after this encounter. Within minutes, as the train resumed its journey towards St. Petersberg, they were joking about the incident. A <u>moment</u> that <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> stays with Sam. Despite his career path, Sam is the type of person to stay <u>under</u> the radar. A moment with <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> did little to pursue Sam that he should <u style="font-weight: bold;">dare</u> to dream. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_zb8t1-l4e_neTJj5qOYUW58AIq-w_zsUvrSsm385rQ-lWXhBTY2-VgdM70h0m3xkAmWeROoYT5jLy2meFuFpP0Bdfwq1_6YDmEp509ItX7AR9UvXjPaLtAeus0qq1WklIOMOv4mEXWzqLqSBba1znGxILf09Dk74BP8KW3bW4xci9k6A1klLLJEYQ/s550/tacos-al-pastor.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL_zb8t1-l4e_neTJj5qOYUW58AIq-w_zsUvrSsm385rQ-lWXhBTY2-VgdM70h0m3xkAmWeROoYT5jLy2meFuFpP0Bdfwq1_6YDmEp509ItX7AR9UvXjPaLtAeus0qq1WklIOMOv4mEXWzqLqSBba1znGxILf09Dk74BP8KW3bW4xci9k6A1klLLJEYQ/w200-h150/tacos-al-pastor.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Apart from a couple of minutes of sheer <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terror</u> in a train sliding outdoors of St. Petersberg, Sam <u>truly</u> <u>enjoyed</u> travelling with his friends. An adventure he didn't want to end. Sam went back home feeling <u>flat</u> wondering how he would spend his days of the year. Within a short time frame, Sam was running low on his savings from the theater and was on a plane bound for San Fransisco. Sam had just turned 18. For a young man raised in the English countryside, America was the promised land. He had caught the travel bug from his <u>first</u> adventure by railroad. This time, Sam planned to explore the U.S.A. like those have done in the movies. On the first day, Sam left the hotel where he was staying so he could lay eyes on the <u style="font-style: italic;">Golden Gate Bridge</u>. From his viewpoint, Sam stayed there for hours, listening to his cassette tape of Otis Redding on repeat. In the city, Sam tasted his first of Mexican food, feeding himself with Que ricos tacos. </div><div><br /></div><div>As the days & weeks passed, dreaming became central to Sam's traveling experience. Sam was alone with his thoughts, reflecting on his future and <u style="font-weight: bold;">constantly</u> on the move. Sam had <u>very</u> <u>little</u> money, but felt like he was living the American dream. What money Sam was living on was about to trickle out, and he <u>knew</u> it was time to head home. Sam figured he would go to University with <u>no</u> enthusiasm. He was talking with his friend about Sam's interest in acting and theatre, and his hopes that an <u>English</u> & film studies degree could touch about it. His mate gave Sam the pep talk of <u>encouragement</u> Sam needed to go for it. After finishing his beer and reflecting on his advice and going their separate ways, the next chapter in Sam's life became <u>clear</u> in his mind.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXo1U6C6RMT98Lfd7mfrbbkeMtPhl0WX6uKyGYI5NC_PXht0Yvju49kf9KoFjoAn4ptrId0tArQ_MIMUW1nh4-VGFUe8NXQ26w14KRexqn9MYvegbZ_I8BNGTEPMQjf7EErprJnecwNif8d65vXzCGdnbxRotB02GOF8IcEUl3rSSclwzPHGMIk6lxLA/s590/This-star-sign-is-represented-by-the-Bull-representing-Taurus-stubborn-trait-2557753.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXo1U6C6RMT98Lfd7mfrbbkeMtPhl0WX6uKyGYI5NC_PXht0Yvju49kf9KoFjoAn4ptrId0tArQ_MIMUW1nh4-VGFUe8NXQ26w14KRexqn9MYvegbZ_I8BNGTEPMQjf7EErprJnecwNif8d65vXzCGdnbxRotB02GOF8IcEUl3rSSclwzPHGMIk6lxLA/w320-h190/This-star-sign-is-represented-by-the-Bull-representing-Taurus-stubborn-trait-2557753.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam is a Tauren. Born at home under a full moon. According to his mom, Sam's parents had a friend who read the ephemeris and <u>seen</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u> things for Sam. His star sign indicates that Sam's bullish, stubborn, dedicated & determined. Sam, himself, is the opposite, although considering himself to be <u>highly</u> <u>competitive</u> at heart. <u>Unlike</u> many of his friends, Sam had <u>no</u> real passion for football. He just <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">never</b> engaged with it. Outside of being a spectator of watching rugby, team sports were <u>never</u> for Sam. He has always strived to do his <u>very</u> <u>best</u>. Set himself for <u>high</u> standards and then somewhat push himself if he failed to meet the mark. The closest Sam came to was judo. Sam was a club member for years. During his time at the mat, Sam worked his way up. The judo taught him to fight hard for the position, rewards that came with hard work & commitment. A skill that steered him through his <u>early</u> attempts to break into acting as a career.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioeFdkSV5UTlqdmM9qrWVhJx8L0gVK_ZjuHUzYoDFyn1UAx3ORnnooxD89TebXqPTUWSagDu_jUFzSsW6ahgXA4PAJc4C4zvqvCfHAvtVbso9KoZHqoo4vswH8JrQcYJ1LmAfC_sR4Xszad6mT0aYhdYtMKZGPzsCkkfTBOOBX3_RpW4cPX4JErCU2Hw/s322/p3534.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="215" data-original-width="322" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioeFdkSV5UTlqdmM9qrWVhJx8L0gVK_ZjuHUzYoDFyn1UAx3ORnnooxD89TebXqPTUWSagDu_jUFzSsW6ahgXA4PAJc4C4zvqvCfHAvtVbso9KoZHqoo4vswH8JrQcYJ1LmAfC_sR4Xszad6mT0aYhdYtMKZGPzsCkkfTBOOBX3_RpW4cPX4JErCU2Hw/s320/p3534.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Declining the university offer, awaiting the end of a gap year, Sam had his heart <u>set</u> on drama school. A degree in <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> & <u style="font-style: italic;">Film</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Studies</u> <u>just</u> wasn't enough for him. At first, acting seemed like a constant idea in passing. Now, it was time to put his plan into motion. Sam waited to dazzle in what he learned...but, by then, Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">committed</u> and darted to his future. In terms of timing, Sam had missed his window of opportunity to apply to drama school for the next academic year. To Sam's great surprise, and also delight, one school in Glasgow; <u style="font-style: italic;">The Royal Scottish Academy Of Music</u><i>/</i><u style="font-style: italic;">Drama</u> offered Sam a chance to overlook the standard operation procedure and audition <u>privately</u>. The school was ran by someone Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEPLY</u> admired; Vladimir Miradan. The <u>thought</u> of learning from this man with a formidable mastery of acting, psychology filled Sam with high <u>excitement</u> and <u>dread</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Immediately</u>, Sam felt out of his depth, but attended the audition all the same. And it was a <u>disaster</u>. Sam's instincts were right. The opportunity to try out in front of Miradan was incredible. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> <b><u>have</u> </b><u>enough</u> stage experience to leave an impression. He was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u>. He stumbled over his lines. He could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> connect with the character. He winged it to the best of his abilities, which didn't amount to much. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> by the end of it; he had <u>blown</u> his audition. Sam was advised to work on it and try again the following year. So, for the next 12 months, Sam spent <u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> time on a stage as he could. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPyBNvIlJ38J-PxmIdC1zMAXRLsQA2_JpqvB2X08xRtnPKzwNi5FTViKbp1gDaA8kNVKK5WRsAlCxBRApfg-WdBgE2uQw--syCwiBXW14soJrgtyqNDbyvFu5F5UeuKExigs4PqCfsIQuf-2tetHEshvU_YtzF2Th3pnUtV_tF-H2xDf_c2oEQUq5WA/s500/418Gpmo-fRL._AC_SY1000_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPyBNvIlJ38J-PxmIdC1zMAXRLsQA2_JpqvB2X08xRtnPKzwNi5FTViKbp1gDaA8kNVKK5WRsAlCxBRApfg-WdBgE2uQw--syCwiBXW14soJrgtyqNDbyvFu5F5UeuKExigs4PqCfsIQuf-2tetHEshvU_YtzF2Th3pnUtV_tF-H2xDf_c2oEQUq5WA/w133-h200/418Gpmo-fRL._AC_SY1000_.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>Sam had failed to get into drama school, but that served to incentivise him. Sam was <u>quite</u> prepared to compete with himself. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> that he could do it. So, giving his spot in school, Sam set his sights about doing everything he could to be a student of the <u>great</u> Vladimir Mirodan. Sam joined the local theater with really creative people both onstage and behind the scenes. Tutors became friends. They would sit after workshops drinking spicy Rum & Coke chatting and bonding with one another. It helped Sam to feel like he was moving in the right direction. Making <u>lifelong</u> friendships with various students. It was inspiring to be involved in productions on the main stage. Sam was <u>hungry</u> to learn and improve at <u>all</u> times. Sam fell for a girl in his class and wanted to impress her. He was infatuated. Sam looked forward to going to acting lessons and would arrive early/stay late hoping to catch her eye. In some ways, Sam's rejection from drama school was a humbling experience. It fed into his desire to improve himself with hard work & dedication.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcN62ZSc41uGvdrXS9nym7Zx3GDWTddZPRZ_V84f-Efgsy0Ysa6m5-BuSEOzrF1N2-4kVnRqsMmY6Uu_kVCy1StYI1ghP7ju9xGbF_MEgL_WSowfWzxzx0rGIR9yAFyaiSL0rrAhHzAzZ5F-F-MYLhwMeveeg5_h5isgZehtcSVn2grF9h1OjjRYeQew/s300/Cyberia_Internet_Cafe.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="300" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcN62ZSc41uGvdrXS9nym7Zx3GDWTddZPRZ_V84f-Efgsy0Ysa6m5-BuSEOzrF1N2-4kVnRqsMmY6Uu_kVCy1StYI1ghP7ju9xGbF_MEgL_WSowfWzxzx0rGIR9yAFyaiSL0rrAhHzAzZ5F-F-MYLhwMeveeg5_h5isgZehtcSVn2grF9h1OjjRYeQew/w200-h120/Cyberia_Internet_Cafe.png" width="200" /></a></div>In order to fund his year out, living at home with his mom after Cirdan moved out onto his own place, Sam found work in Edinburgh as a manager at an internet cafe called <u style="font-style: italic;">Cyberia</u><span> </span>Sam's shifts were as <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">busy</u> as they were entertaining. Sam's customer care skills <u>tested</u> his rudimentary know-how. In his downtime between shifts, Sam and his friends would compete in online gaming and hang out in chat-rooms. Sam loved the alternative universe and characters online. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ZsPspAV2XYGEg1VdZe_ICQLRi9JNPV_eqS2kuHltca81OINpyBdmBtU6QIfRe6g5_kam6bFnTkrYGNC-h15F8u9Aix6iw3Ps6fa-rME5cBe9f5mVadRTE5qdlwu9ITPLfkzqzuHYDsssSdGetyUSR6uOX8Ws-gRuE5a4T4xBWk2rQDHHVWvs6o0Lfw/s800/b25lY21zOjRhNGRmMmM2LWU2YmYtNGQwYy05OThjLTFmZmVmZWI1NzhlMDoxMDRhZGJlMS04NmZlLTRiMDItYWQ1NC00N2VlZTg5YzcwOTA=.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="800" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ZsPspAV2XYGEg1VdZe_ICQLRi9JNPV_eqS2kuHltca81OINpyBdmBtU6QIfRe6g5_kam6bFnTkrYGNC-h15F8u9Aix6iw3Ps6fa-rME5cBe9f5mVadRTE5qdlwu9ITPLfkzqzuHYDsssSdGetyUSR6uOX8Ws-gRuE5a4T4xBWk2rQDHHVWvs6o0Lfw/w200-h148/b25lY21zOjRhNGRmMmM2LWU2YmYtNGQwYy05OThjLTFmZmVmZWI1NzhlMDoxMDRhZGJlMS04NmZlLTRiMDItYWQ1NC00N2VlZTg5YzcwOTA=.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Later, Sam switched jobs to become the duty manager at an unconventional cafe; <u style="font-style: italic;">Ndebele</u>. It boasted great African food and Sam <u>loved</u> the sense of community. Everyone was warm and friendly. They would all convene afterward in a bar around the corner that boasted the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEST</u> jukebox in Edinburgh. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">blasted</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u> artists like <u style="font-style: italic;">The Doors</u>, <u style="font-style: italic;">The End</u>, <u style="font-style: italic;">Bob Marley</u> & <u style="font-style: italic;">Oasis</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOUDLY</u> all night while drinking and shooting the shit with others.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfU0jZcglX2bdgIQmdtFTVseBRRjDvKfs_je7gtrFjsqZMNU0kv6Ht__lOSSb_rp6sS0WUW_claj_IWWaPrablPNp2Y3K35dMP3dkfrqBdJetbY_zl16oppjlX2qZzld_8u18TbrLG1Sk8hEEtghiip25AYbBTO12iFyD72rfPXDbraMkddRmg6ir9VQ/s1280/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfU0jZcglX2bdgIQmdtFTVseBRRjDvKfs_je7gtrFjsqZMNU0kv6Ht__lOSSb_rp6sS0WUW_claj_IWWaPrablPNp2Y3K35dMP3dkfrqBdJetbY_zl16oppjlX2qZzld_8u18TbrLG1Sk8hEEtghiip25AYbBTO12iFyD72rfPXDbraMkddRmg6ir9VQ/s320/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>That year, Sam also took on some work as part of the stage crew at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Lyceum Theatre Edinburgh</u>, and at another theatre along the way. Sam is not too proud to say that he was <u>terrible</u> in the role. Sam tried his best for various tasks; but his efforts were lacking. He was just more comfortable on stage than behind it, and that was where Sam felt he could shine. In his bid to become a better actor, Sam's <u>love</u> for theatre <u style="font-weight: bold;">deepened</u>. He had his favorites that he idolized like Tom McGovern. Watching them, Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> to bring his passion into a career. While being tall and broad-built had felt like a challenge growing up - it had taken Sam awhile to feel comfortable with the fact that he <u>couldn't</u> hide in a crowd - becoming a virtue as an actor. On a couple of occasions, <u>simply</u> on account of his stature, Sam found himself promoted from the youth theatre and put into main productions; albeit in <u>minor</u> roles. It was like being an extra in a film with no lines. But, the experience was <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredible</u>. It was also an opportunity to possibly be backstage with those that Sam idolized and considered his heroes.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tELOYan3oPLv17ukz7RoAD5OfttQQnNBmplJePTkxZTmneQZUxw8muv4XrYaS3pZLW_J-BNoul8w9NdW1JbQOspVu8gELHNGlqlqPyce2_BXRoqDVH7OqOUhTexsZ-fBhnCYc--2yiNPmLnQbeb80zsJrM8ucZwW3tLAlkeyAwa3Td8YvbbrPm81Gg/s1142/bildschirmfoto-2018-04-28-um-13-01-40.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1142" data-original-width="946" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tELOYan3oPLv17ukz7RoAD5OfttQQnNBmplJePTkxZTmneQZUxw8muv4XrYaS3pZLW_J-BNoul8w9NdW1JbQOspVu8gELHNGlqlqPyce2_BXRoqDVH7OqOUhTexsZ-fBhnCYc--2yiNPmLnQbeb80zsJrM8ucZwW3tLAlkeyAwa3Td8YvbbrPm81Gg/w166-h200/bildschirmfoto-2018-04-28-um-13-01-40.png" width="166" /></a></div>In the world of acting, head shots open doors. If Sam wanted to attract studio<br /> heads, he had to have one. It had to be something that made his look <u>professional</u>, and not just a young hopeful. Sam found a local photographer to take some pictures and <u>hoped</u> money wouldn't be wasted. Sam had been cast in a TV docudrama as Lord Darnley in <u style="font-style: italic;">Mary, Queen Of Scots</u>. Sam had <u>no</u> dialogue with the actress playing the title. The <u>only</u> drawback to this role Sam discovered, which would follow him in his career, was the <u>uncomfortability</u> of his uniform. It was <u>huge</u> and clanked every time Sam moved around. It was an unexpected challenge Sam had to conquer <u>quickly</u> and he soon found himself enjoying it. Sam found himself enjoying the learning process of the filming procession. As soon as the director yelled <u>Cut</u>! for the <u>final</u> time, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> his heart would <u>always</u> reside with the theatre. That was where Sam was born as an actor. Even though the big and small screen provided <u>many</u> opportunities, Sam always seen the stage as <b><u>HOME</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>By the end of the year following Sam's failed drama school audition, he had <u>emmersed</u> himself into the world of theatre. Sam had already been involved in a string of productions with <u style="font-style: italic;">Lyceum Youth Theatre</u> when he realized he wasn't much of a stagehand, and appeared in a few low-budget TV programs. More significantly, Sam had come in contrast with <u>several</u> professional actors. They <u>all</u> knew of Sam's plans for drama school. As time approached him to audition again, they <u>helped</u> Sam on his quest. Some even helped him to rehearse until he felt <b><u>completely</u> </b><u>comfortable</u> with the characters of Sam's choosing. It helped Sam to build his confidence, which is something Sam lacked in his first attempt.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjkt8PTQ55lorf7I7oUgQ4m5QiaT9GCiAXSpLgTrXv77Vuo3whNPYkdc7CCBUWloH1HsgYAGtNEC8sKfwAovHOggpGQPFHQvjBn-ohnLKfkgZKjYc_WjcttR7IkM-A66ZpVzA7yXW7PgL1-V44rlKloJwiICcI8UnqpY2L2bl78y0Xjixi8dLPqQ3vA/s320/12888671_10153343219886216_8300451209434177261_o.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="320" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjkt8PTQ55lorf7I7oUgQ4m5QiaT9GCiAXSpLgTrXv77Vuo3whNPYkdc7CCBUWloH1HsgYAGtNEC8sKfwAovHOggpGQPFHQvjBn-ohnLKfkgZKjYc_WjcttR7IkM-A66ZpVzA7yXW7PgL1-V44rlKloJwiICcI8UnqpY2L2bl78y0Xjixi8dLPqQ3vA/s1600/12888671_10153343219886216_8300451209434177261_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam returned to Glasgow's <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Scottish Academy Of Music & Drama</u> with high hopes as well as mixed feelings. Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">determined</u> to get to drama school, but by year out, he heard of studying at the <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> capital. <u style="font-style: italic;">Drama Center London</u> caught his imagination. The idea <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</u> & <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excited</u> him. Sam's idol/muse Carolyn Devlin had attended the school and encouraged him to apply as soon as Sam stepped back into the <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Scottish Academy</u>, it felt like <u style="font-weight: bold;">THE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PLACE</u> for him. Sam felt <b><u>AT</u> <u>HOME</u>!</b> He waited to <u style="font-weight: bold;">TAKE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IN</u> what the place had to offer. He felt he made the <u style="font-weight: bold;">RIGHT</u> choice. This time, Sam auditioned with a year's practice under his belt. <u>Everything</u> he had learned in the past 12 months led to <u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">moment</u>. Sam felt both <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thrilled</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u>. It was time for Sam to leave his mom/home and spread his wings. As he prepared to start his <u>first</u> term, word had gotten out that there would be a change in the teaching staff. Still, Sam felt <b><u>very</u> </b><u>fortunate</u> for his position. And had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> plans of wasting the opportunity he was given. <u>To</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>, Sam had <b><u>NO</u> <u>REGRETS</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GnUWq3YVeqJYPN1COv3xvxwFTP3Lhn92VMEWL64nTrjoy41m2VPGIMwEvutyKput3EXruXLwR4bfBSsOc4iK8PFbah8BvTnjPNFK7rfA_pxdqobplRP91dLVfFDWhjAYdBCIqJZ_7VJkQ5o1bi63u8xWrqny1i4RB74-UqKySs85F9NlvqnWSiPYwg/s430/il_570xN.3850964296_muu7.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="430" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GnUWq3YVeqJYPN1COv3xvxwFTP3Lhn92VMEWL64nTrjoy41m2VPGIMwEvutyKput3EXruXLwR4bfBSsOc4iK8PFbah8BvTnjPNFK7rfA_pxdqobplRP91dLVfFDWhjAYdBCIqJZ_7VJkQ5o1bi63u8xWrqny1i4RB74-UqKySs85F9NlvqnWSiPYwg/s320/il_570xN.3850964296_muu7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Moving from Edinburgh to Glasgow was a <u>very</u> <u>happy</u> time for Sam. He made <u>such</u> <u>good</u> friends at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Scottish Academy</u>; and felt like he was being treated <u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u> as a young actor while living <u>independently</u>. Sam moved in with 2 girls from his course, and another actor they never really saw. Like any first year student, they rioted. They got high and wandered the streets looking for the best Sunday roast(s) to curb their munchies. They went out and danced at <u style="font-style: italic;">The Arches</u>; the infamous nightclub venue, or hung out at <u style="font-style: italic;">Trader Joe's</u> during karaoke night. They didn't sleep and their weekends were a <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u> blur. By then, almost 2 years had passed since Sam left school. He was a little older than his cohorts at drama school, and maybe even <u>wiser</u> about the Scottish theatre scene from having met as many of the players whilst working at Edinburgh. Sam also got a glimpse of the <u>professional</u> world he'd be attending. Sam likes to have a <u>genuinely</u> good time; but he knows when to <u>cut</u> the shit and get <u>shit</u> done. So, every lunch break, <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u> fail, after throwing nutrients down his throat, Sam would find one of the numerous empty rehearsal rooms and work for 30 minutes on <u>improving</u> his voice.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam felt <u>driven</u>. His voice work paid off. He entered and won the <u style="font-style: italic;">Elaine Gullen</u> poetry speaking competition. Sam's <u>favorite</u> piece was from Edwin Morgan's <u style="font-style: italic;">Phaedra</u> in full Scots. It was a play Sam had watched whilst working as an usher at <u style="font-style: italic;">Lycom</u>. Sam would stand in the wings; ready to guide the audience to the audience to their seats, but also to allow access for the actors to pass through. It was a play that Sam watched repeatedly and he would <u>love</u> to be in a revived version. Sam was passionate and ambitious; and among people who shared his interests and values. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he had alot to learn, and knuckled down to make <u>every</u> <u>moment</u> count. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXACTLY</u> when he learned to act. That moment occurred in Sam's sophomore year at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Scottish Academy</u> during a production of <u style="font-style: italic;">Romeo & Juliet</u>. Acting is <u>being</u> <u>in</u> <u>the</u> <u>moment</u>. Sam's tutor <u>deliberately</u> tore him down in order to build him back up. Even though Sam was <u>no</u> <u>doubtly</u> being challenged, this view came as a blow. Sam had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">PROVE</u> it. Not just to his tutor, but also to himself.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZug5nszk_wFE7rXZ3QbEP_U909iwACWvTXqs4PbE2lr77q7PzFpGXaeI2vJyeWTSb0gz4pHY7R7KK39igEpZ5rbII0ctqZewOsTCxX2nni0JBkLA5jExp4fHUblF65CJZhw47vAIZxwSDB-YPcV9wKuLynQU7ES-3v9VzgeYIBSIxFxkpy6sjbU0lGQ/s1500/midsummer-nights-dream-intro.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="1500" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZug5nszk_wFE7rXZ3QbEP_U909iwACWvTXqs4PbE2lr77q7PzFpGXaeI2vJyeWTSb0gz4pHY7R7KK39igEpZ5rbII0ctqZewOsTCxX2nni0JBkLA5jExp4fHUblF65CJZhw47vAIZxwSDB-YPcV9wKuLynQU7ES-3v9VzgeYIBSIxFxkpy6sjbU0lGQ/s320/midsummer-nights-dream-intro.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> let go of the outside mentality. Sam knew he had in mind an <u>idea</u> of what it meant to understand the lessons, he had to interpret them <u>his</u> way. Existing in the <u>moment</u> as he played a character, and liberating himself from <u>any</u> sense that he was acting. Allow the text to come <b><u>ALIVE</u>!</b> from you. It felt like magic to Sam. If the actor's body is open, a vessel, then the character is <u>literally</u> in the words and the play <u>comes</u> <u>to</u> <u>life</u>. Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">DETERMINED</u> to <u>show</u> he had what it took. All Sam had to do was let himself go. He <u>knew</u> what the teacher was <u>getting</u> <u>at</u>. But, at the same time, Sam thought of all that could go wrong. Sam had that example happen when he was invited back to his old theatre to take part in a version of <u style="font-style: italic;">A Midsummer's Night's Dream</u>. Sam was playing Theseus/Oberion; a really big commanding character. It was near the end when Sam was due to make a <u>GRAND</u> speech; but midway through. . . .Sam <u>registered</u> the audience and <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> went to hell.</div><div><br /></div><div>When the audience went <u>silent</u>, Sam's brain <b><u>WOKE</u> <u>UP</u>!</b> to what he was <u>supposed</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">focus</u> on. He <u>broke</u> from being frozen. After the applause, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> let this happen again. Sam had to stop being <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">self</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">conscious</u>. Sam had to think at that time <u>alot</u>; not just because it was an epiphany for him. He was learning to feel at home on stage; but Sam still had <u>ALOT</u> to learn. He often thinks back to those early days, because it's one thing to be <u>in</u> <u>the</u> <u>moment</u> on stage. Over time, Sam had learned to <u>disappear</u> into a character with 1/2 of his brain, while the other remains conscious of the rest he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needs</u> to <u>remember</u>. As a student actor, learning to lose himself in a role <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> to be a turning point. It became a <u style="font-weight: bold;">SAFE</u> place. Hiding behind a character blocks Sam from having to <u style="font-weight: bold;">FACE</u> himself. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYwV2ZvbJ055Q8DkOiqM5AkPMRt7U_sLlhNTn4FP8sskDnDEssld6RGawA0NULHU0keazwZdxxjxfQ84suBP77xhzn982cVNCBMJTsRlvJOxn9tbhIx0Eos4b-uMqipzXpyaUhOxiunmGaNKMA_XPEk_gJw95fnDzrUtvUZ4wCIjgBMBlE_O-d66Y8w/s270/7ece12b7ff1e4b4994564cf19586ab7262aa56cf.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="270" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYwV2ZvbJ055Q8DkOiqM5AkPMRt7U_sLlhNTn4FP8sskDnDEssld6RGawA0NULHU0keazwZdxxjxfQ84suBP77xhzn982cVNCBMJTsRlvJOxn9tbhIx0Eos4b-uMqipzXpyaUhOxiunmGaNKMA_XPEk_gJw95fnDzrUtvUZ4wCIjgBMBlE_O-d66Y8w/s1600/7ece12b7ff1e4b4994564cf19586ab7262aa56cf.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>During the production of <u style="font-style: italic;">Romeo</u><i>/</i><u style="font-style: italic;">Juliet</u>, Sam was approached to audition for the lead role in a play called <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlying Islands</u>. Even though Sam was only a student, the director was impressed by the performance after he auditioned that he offered Sam a part straight away. As the play was due to be staged at the prestigious <u style="font-style: italic;">Edinburgh Festival</u>. Sam <u>couldn't</u> turn it down. <u>First</u>, Sam needed to get permission from <u style="font-style: italic;">the Royal Academy</u> to have his studies on hold for this part. Fortunately for him, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">recognized</u> that a <u style="font-weight: bold;">professional</u> production for this caliber could be an <u style="font-weight: bold;">invaluable</u> schooling lesson. They gave Sam a chance to spread his wings & fly. It was like the first tour of a just signed band. The play had done well, and they were transferred to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Court Theatre</u>. It was an <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">incredible</b> opportunity for Sam. Even taking this show to Toronto in the winter.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was an <u>honor</u> to perform the play <u>so</u> <u>widely</u>; especially at <u>prestigious</u> <u>theatres</u>, and yet the <u>smallest</u> venues were the <u>most</u> rewarding. It was such a privilege, like being part of a shared experience. It reminded Sam of his childhood in New Galloway. In bringing the play to the stage across pockets of Scotland that Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> visited before, he hoped youngsters in the audience would've been inspired just as Sam had. By the time the run ended, Sam had just a few months left of drama school. He had returned to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Scottish Academy</u> for the end of his 3RD and <u>final</u> year and they <u>allowed</u> Sam to graduate. It was <u>highly</u> unusual; but Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> for the understanding/support from his teachers. It was <u>unconventional</u> schooling and in some ways a fast track to becoming a professional. Sam was able to repay <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYONE</u> and pay it forward to those who've helped him. Sam also created a play-writing competition that enriches kids' lives. Sam just learned <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> on the job; he wanted to give some back. As much as Sam loved the character on stage, he was to be on the sidelines of life. Looking in . . .no matter the situation or location.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fresh from the <u style="font-style: italic;">Royal Scottish Academy Of Music/Drama</u>, Sam set out to build <u>his</u> experience. This meant auditioning and <u style="font-weight: bold;">proving</u> his resilience. . .something Sam <u>wasn't</u> very good at. Sam didn't know how to prepare, and he would often find himself not being able to deliver what he felt the casting director was looking for. Before the audition, Sam would spend ages researching his character. He would fill journals with cut-outs, timelines, history notes and <u>study</u> the costumes and the director's past productions. Sam would look <u>into</u> the era in which the character lived, or their motivations in the story, and forget the <u>key</u> point to auditioning: learning the lines. Sam would be <u>all</u> prepped as he could be; only to disengage as he muddled through. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> why he wasn't getting the part he wanted, and <u>quickly</u> changed how he prepared for auditions. Sam was also <u>keenly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> that it was a cutthroat business. As much as he <u>hungered</u> for a role, Sam was in competition with actors who knew how to deliver <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> what was required. If <u>anything</u>, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">encouraged</u> Sam to focus on - <u style="font-style: italic;">surprise</u>! - learning his lines and conquering his <b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">nerves</b> by losing himself in a character.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the early years, as an eager actor, Sam discovered that auditioning was a craft in its own right. The more Sam attended, the better he got at them, and <u>slowly</u> the rejections turned into recalls. While Sam sat in a pool of sweat, <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nerves</u>. . .older <u>more</u> <u>successful</u> & <u>experienced</u> actors would be given <u style="font-weight: bold;">priority</u>, and as they left, they'd embrace the casting director. Sam would sit <span style="color: #38761d;">green with envy</span> and a curt NEXT! as he walked through the audition room door as if facing the gallows. Sam didn't despair, however. He just had to build his relationships all around.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mDXyboa2L3mjk8l3Q5psHIOR7BIQgWKU7k3qzUEI-YYtiT2nObsG-YaodpE0VTM2YqdN2d4ioqUNhgAtkukxUGBOnzKcFEaYdvu_keyBwIRcDGpI5zjGmIV0Y1vBYtVEA5AglYtCZykm_ZGnvNc4gVnPFZK-ObFI-GpVKaF1ypim8LT4Ik5PuGo4Jw/s456/36362da1369157ce48425bc2ce09e728.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mDXyboa2L3mjk8l3Q5psHIOR7BIQgWKU7k3qzUEI-YYtiT2nObsG-YaodpE0VTM2YqdN2d4ioqUNhgAtkukxUGBOnzKcFEaYdvu_keyBwIRcDGpI5zjGmIV0Y1vBYtVEA5AglYtCZykm_ZGnvNc4gVnPFZK-ObFI-GpVKaF1ypim8LT4Ik5PuGo4Jw/w226-h320/36362da1369157ce48425bc2ce09e728.jpg" width="226" /></a></div>Sam's <u>very</u> <u>first</u> taste of success came in the form of a television miniseries; <u style="font-style: italic;">Island At War</u>. Sam played a British spy. It was an exciting time, a chance to work with high-profile actors, but Sam didn't quite know how to <u>act</u> for the cameras. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u> of his experience came from reading books. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">devoured</u> Michael Caine, Laurence Olivier and a host of other acting biographies/manuals. Sam was hoping for insight; but <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> beats learning on the job. Sam <u>allowed</u> the character/actions to take over. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to over-the-top elaborate or signify <u style="font-weight: bold;">intensity</u> with his eyes on the scene. He just <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">truthful</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;">Knives In Hens</u> was one of the <u>first</u> <u>significant</u> theatrical parts that Sam landed after graduating. A play that one only dreams of. One that you don't truly <u style="font-weight: bold;">appreciate</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">fully</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">understand</u> until later. It challenges the audience and digs into the human psyche, exposing the dark places. They opened at <u style="font-style: italic;">The Tron Theatre</u> in Glasgow, only for the production to snowball into something <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">bigger</u> than Sam could have <u>ever</u> anticipated. After the initial run, they took the show on the road for what would be an <u style="font-weight: bold;">unforgettable</u> experience for several reasons. Acting gives the opportunity to explore dark places. <u style="font-style: italic;">Knives In Hens</u> provided Sam with one of those roles. In losing himself in his character, Sam saw a chance to <u>release</u> the power and rage of him. Sam was only in his early 20s, and although tall & broad, he had found a place on the sidelines, playing nice guys or decent guys. Sam was given an opportunity to open up in an imposing way. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sam knew he had learned to convey a sense of power & darkness. Using <u>that</u> to bring the character to life for the audience. Everything began to go <u>well</u>, and word was beginning to spread that this was a play <u>worth</u> watching. Going for a long run before any work helps Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUS</u> and clear his mind to <u>relax</u> him. There have been times when Sam has overdone the workouts, only with <u>very</u> little prep time to get into costume and be <u>ready</u>. Sam has needed <u>longer</u> than an allotted time-frame. On the opening night, however, the mix of adrenaline, sweat, loss & fatigue meant that Sam's body was cramping, and he couldn't make the pain. The more he couldn't mask it; the less Sam could concentrate. He wanted to disappear. When the curtain came down, Sam <u>swore</u> he was done and he'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> act again. Sam was ashamed of himself and of his body. Feeling he'd let the cast & crew down for a moment they'd <u>all</u> worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> for.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XT6Zen_qnordlmWPizuiuVHfKbNEuhrROu4He80osipt-mXZfTtQZYsJd7PJ6l9jnXr_5gdQXlv4EcjV1QJrR7LDaE2th-sH5GzVbtg9uA4fuS8gAhGSZZ-SxEkfHL_kiTE9KP4wlXvERMvuqxxLO9G-rrPENuLPGIFzMagyDzhsI4UdM2yf_prpMg/s290/095_438__weblogo_1592048043_standard.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="290" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XT6Zen_qnordlmWPizuiuVHfKbNEuhrROu4He80osipt-mXZfTtQZYsJd7PJ6l9jnXr_5gdQXlv4EcjV1QJrR7LDaE2th-sH5GzVbtg9uA4fuS8gAhGSZZ-SxEkfHL_kiTE9KP4wlXvERMvuqxxLO9G-rrPENuLPGIFzMagyDzhsI4UdM2yf_prpMg/s1600/095_438__weblogo_1592048043_standard.jpg" width="290" /></a></div>Overnight, having dwelled on what happened, Sam resolved that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">won't</u> be defeated. Allowing the character he was playing led the way. The next night, Sam's character <u>returned</u> with a vengeance onstage. He was steadfast and the show brought the audience to their feet. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">swore</u> he would <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> let his <u>personal</u> life dictate his <u>professional</u> life again. If Sam exercised prior to showtime, it allowed him time to recover and be <u>PRESENT</u>. Midway through the run at <u style="font-style: italic;">The Macrobert Arts Cenre</u> in Stirling. Sam was enjoying the process <u style="font-weight: bold;">immensely</u>. Things were going <u>great</u> for him. He was earning enough to get by - or at least pay the rent - but it <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> about that. He simply <u>loved</u> being onstage with the character. Then, midway through that run, Sam received a message <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> out of nowhere. It was from the father whom abandoned Sam <u>years</u> before.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaGJCPs-QYfqJFRIAterCDXM8Cd9oHUU1YPSk_toAa7pW8GRMqfLo-j4zusD5_shhDNV4xtfuGuOvQqTvmY0ExO-OzwzDOevLm--pzOTAFOHlk_jbvlz46TrEEaDGkVFyQmqOYnNLxUR79Tsvo7jmrRNqSzxpzwaR_0uRTGrt4eAUhEKzI1K-WVl7fw/s729/1aa3e8b5060516d7ce81b25d46c7e0d9.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="729" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDaGJCPs-QYfqJFRIAterCDXM8Cd9oHUU1YPSk_toAa7pW8GRMqfLo-j4zusD5_shhDNV4xtfuGuOvQqTvmY0ExO-OzwzDOevLm--pzOTAFOHlk_jbvlz46TrEEaDGkVFyQmqOYnNLxUR79Tsvo7jmrRNqSzxpzwaR_0uRTGrt4eAUhEKzI1K-WVl7fw/s320/1aa3e8b5060516d7ce81b25d46c7e0d9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam's father <u>wasn't</u> <u>just</u> in the country. He was staying close by. So about an hour prior to going onstage, Sam met the man who had walked/left his son's life before Sam had any <u>REAL</u> memory of him. Sam had <u>no</u> <u>idea</u> in his mind about what his father might've looked like. What's <u>more</u>, any feelings Sam might've had about this man's reappearance <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">have</u> time to solidify in his mind. So when this man appeared, Sam felt he was meeting an old acquaintance from a time <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ago</u> that Sam lost <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> emotional connection. With time before showtime, Sam suggested they go for a walk. As they walked the university campus, they made small talk with Sam being guarded, as if he just met a stranger. Sam's brain was half of the experience, soaking up the thoughts/emotions and half of him was mentally checked out. As he was halfway throughout the walk, Sam was taken aback and <u>stopped</u> in his tracks.</div><div><br /></div><div>They had <u>exactly</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">same</u> gait. From their easy stride to their pace, they walked in an <u style="font-weight: bold;">identical</u> manner. They moved their way in the world the <u style="font-weight: bold;">exact</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">same</u> way with energy and direction. It was uncanny and it <u>didn't</u> make Sam feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u> <u>at</u> <u>ease</u>. <u>Anyone</u> could tell they were father/son, but Sam felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">connection</u> to him <u>whatsoever</u>. Sam's performance <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">proved</b> to be challenging. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> his dad was in the audience, and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> disconnect from it. His dad also invited him to dinner after at a local Indian restaurant. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> want to go - he was feeling <u>very</u> overwhelmed & confused - but Sam <u>agreed</u> out of politeness. Due to the past with his dad, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> how to react. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpSNZ87q_PnzWd7aFfFPiWJ2mGRm642CQjBvpfi1oDhJxZNb4TnI-XMEkjH-M9nSpejNT1B669cVNbpNBG3sPDANPGUAW67KriYLjdJBiTjZlg8ymEUR6LuTsAw0--gmBJPy1OglURG9wL88MJu4-YJfNDFmruRRp4vssRO00iN4f3-k4bbt6epCiNg/s740/Outlanders-Sam-Heughan-tried-out-for-several-roles-on-Game-of-Thrones-7-times-1-4590897.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="740" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpSNZ87q_PnzWd7aFfFPiWJ2mGRm642CQjBvpfi1oDhJxZNb4TnI-XMEkjH-M9nSpejNT1B669cVNbpNBG3sPDANPGUAW67KriYLjdJBiTjZlg8ymEUR6LuTsAw0--gmBJPy1OglURG9wL88MJu4-YJfNDFmruRRp4vssRO00iN4f3-k4bbt6epCiNg/s320/Outlanders-Sam-Heughan-tried-out-for-several-roles-on-Game-of-Thrones-7-times-1-4590897.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Sam wondered if he should be <u style="font-weight: bold;">forcing</u> a relationship that <u>wasn't</u> there. The only way Sam could process the situation was to step back and consider his dad to be like a character he was to play with in the future. It was <u>hard</u> to find a way to relate to him otherwise. It was hard to form an intimate feeling for someone that <u style="font-weight: bold;">required</u> all the time his father was absent. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> like hell to open up, but just <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> all the time. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u> let people <u>into</u> his life with ease. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Trust</u> is hard for him to establish. Sam just learned to enjoy his <u>own</u> company. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">craves</u> it. He is somewhat guarded for it, and that is perhaps why Sam is drawn to acting. Onstage, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">needs</u> to be the <u>opposite</u> of something that has become second nature to him. Acting <u>allows</u> Sam to drop layers and let go. That is when Sam comes <b><u>ALIVE</u>!</b> Much to his surprise & delight, Sam finds that being in the wilderness allows him to do the <u>same</u> thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the time, moving to London seemed like the <u>right</u> thing to do. It was a right of passage that <u>so</u> <u>many</u> young British actors felt they had to go through in order to be at the center of things. Go where you could be seen. For all of its <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excitement</u> of living in London, unless Sam could land a role, he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> money. Sam was living with a bunch of struggling young actors in the north of the capital. They survived on bagels and <u>cheap</u> beer. Like the others, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to find a way to support himself <u>financially</u> by taking casual, and then <u>full</u> <u>time</u> work. Sam knew he had to be <u>available</u> for auditions, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">immerse</u> himself in London's culture.</div><div> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJbqUB7e2v1oMeg8H1HqyUyqGjeWZZyUAa7YKr7oM3u7HhFsxZ-8B5be0WMmAqyDxT3vig4XC313iLC1Osr4KGkVuOJFvxzozD05OzuwAdweYWqf8bu0rPXhzWOfgkwhpdSC9pusAqf3Gy4AtgAXWnAnaVOtStCe9iIxph6j0ZAZOzI3Vp7zXrv3JJA/s1200/EjwM2OBWoAAkFfY.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJbqUB7e2v1oMeg8H1HqyUyqGjeWZZyUAa7YKr7oM3u7HhFsxZ-8B5be0WMmAqyDxT3vig4XC313iLC1Osr4KGkVuOJFvxzozD05OzuwAdweYWqf8bu0rPXhzWOfgkwhpdSC9pusAqf3Gy4AtgAXWnAnaVOtStCe9iIxph6j0ZAZOzI3Vp7zXrv3JJA/s320/EjwM2OBWoAAkFfY.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Within a short period of time, Sam found himself holding down <u>multiple</u> jobs. He worked behind the bar multiple times, delivered sandwiches via bicycle (<i>in the <u>dead</u> <u>ass</u> <u>height</u> of winter</i>). Sam found himself in charge of the <u>entire</u> NHS doctors' rotation in South London, and even found himself selling perfume, and then <u><i>Vivienne Westwood</i></u> clothing at <u style="font-style: italic;">Harrod's</u>. In some ways, Sam was playing roles; only to closer in perpetuity to becoming an actor. Most of his free time was spent looking for acting opportunities. That meant travelling around town to auditions by a multitude of transportation that <u>proved</u> to be <u>least</u> expensive, so his bicycle was put to <u>good</u> use. In London, Sam joined the young legion of young hopefuls who <u>dreamed</u> of a big break while working to pay the rent.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam's ambition becomes a <u>valuable</u> asset, because as time wore on, it <u>stopped</u> Sam from giving up in despair. By now, in his mid-20s, Sam had friends who held down jobs, with a <u>proper</u> sense of securities . . .and yet, Sam was counting pennies to get through the day. Sam would get work and be financially compensated for it. . . just enough to stay afloat; and that became a way of life. Sam <u>lived</u> in hope, daydreaming as he peddled through the streets or was rocked to sleep by the city train. It was mundane at times, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">stressful</u> at times, when it came to cash. For jobs to pay the rent, Sam landed a job in a soap opera back in London that was <u>deemed</u> to be <u>more</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">rewarding</u> than what Sam was doing before. Sometimes, Sam thinks of himself as a loner by design. In some ways, we yearn to be with others. . .other times we <u style="font-weight: bold;">EARNED</u> the right to fly solo in life.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakr9udvL8g4kg-F8OnlGkm1DozISQ7gVbrMO2gcxb_fvBnmjs5WpPQtb6VGFrrKro-ooIwfeb1zj5acPHxVd5I7hXMD7ClTXPIh7AiSalx4JKsK935b3Np8LNxJLPjF9FWTURPoDLHDWt_03wfpKxCoHk67mHmzp1kvESX2MSKxp_jxlYE5pJwBfmSA/s275/engraving-Robert-the-Bruce-artist-1797.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="217" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakr9udvL8g4kg-F8OnlGkm1DozISQ7gVbrMO2gcxb_fvBnmjs5WpPQtb6VGFrrKro-ooIwfeb1zj5acPHxVd5I7hXMD7ClTXPIh7AiSalx4JKsK935b3Np8LNxJLPjF9FWTURPoDLHDWt_03wfpKxCoHk67mHmzp1kvESX2MSKxp_jxlYE5pJwBfmSA/w158-h200/engraving-Robert-the-Bruce-artist-1797.webp" width="158" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert The Bruce</td></tr></tbody></table>As a boy, Sam was obsessed with Robert The Bruce; known as <u style="font-style: italic;">King Of The Scots</u>. He was a Hero in Sam's eyes. Imitating his hero as a boy. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> loves how Scottish legends have become entwined with Arthurian myth. Those stories <u style="font-weight: bold;">entranced</u> him as a boy. During the formative years when his mother took to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lycum</u>; <u style="font-style: italic;">Merlin</u> became Sam's <u style="font-weight: bold;">favorite</u> production. As a young actor in the early 90s, Sam was <u>particularly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">fired</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u> on being asked to audition for <u style="font-style: italic;">Camelot</u>. After auditioning several times, Sam was given a callback for the <u>final</u> round; only to lose out to someone else. It was/is Sam's <u style="font-weight: bold;">dream</u> to play <u style="font-style: italic;">Arthur</u>,<u style="font-style: italic;">King Of The Brits</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Holding down cash-in-hand jobs in London, while hoping a casting director might throw a <u>favorable</u> bone at home; Sam slipped into <u>dire</u> straits. He was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">way</b> in discouragement of becoming an actor. Sam found himself dependent on other people, as well as an element of luck, to make himself a <u>success</u>. It meant when an offer came Sam's way, <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> the position, Sam took it <u>without</u> question. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> the money; as well as the experience. Sam was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">position</u> to nitpick. Sam didn't have that kind of luck. So, in 2005, when Sam landed a role in a Scottish soap opera called <u style="font-style: italic;">River City</u>; he saw a chance for a regular income doing something he <u>loved</u>. Sam would miss his life; but he had to jump. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">something</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> do. It meant moving back to Glasgow and an itinerant living out of a suitcase.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlNK9AweVTp6FrlfUbicUX3HyArKa_83ouioqWwELAv8W8rIqoPnwQGf0bTSNCInShweDIMOcEolNp9FEy60oPavAWSiMZZt9Hb13vfkyCddHRGrqNOLtQ4PM7tFZLGR4u4oAoJJI1mblO-aoOu79Qu5SvNk_fzxiZmPmXNPXIvMfYA2kbiaa_XCztw/s1200/p08sb1z5.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlNK9AweVTp6FrlfUbicUX3HyArKa_83ouioqWwELAv8W8rIqoPnwQGf0bTSNCInShweDIMOcEolNp9FEy60oPavAWSiMZZt9Hb13vfkyCddHRGrqNOLtQ4PM7tFZLGR4u4oAoJJI1mblO-aoOu79Qu5SvNk_fzxiZmPmXNPXIvMfYA2kbiaa_XCztw/s320/p08sb1z5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In <u style="font-style: italic;">River City</u>, Sam played a football golden boy named Andrew Murray. Sam saw it as a <u style="font-weight: bold;">challenge</u> due to his <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u> inadequecy with <u>any</u> kind of ball. He was <u>lastly</u> picked in school for <u>any</u> sports team. A <u>challenge</u> Sam was willing to <u>embrace</u>; a first in many to <u>truly</u> be who he was to become as an actor. Filming on the set of a soap opera is <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">difficult</u> from the stage. Sam felt <u>NEW</u> to television. Without an audience, Sam had <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> to learn. With soap opera work, its considered grut work training wheels for a <u>future</u> in a business to <u>success</u>. Sam's brain that didn't want to comprehend his work had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">overtime</u>. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">tough</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">demanding</u>, and a <u>steep</u> learning curve. Sam <u>enjoyed</u> the ride. It <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">wasn't</b> a world of riches, but it paid the bills and fed him. It was <u>priceless</u>. After a year on <u style="font-style: italic;">River City</u>, despite the <u>regular</u> income. . . Sam decided to get back to his roots; seek inspiration elsewhere and play <u>new</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">exciting</u> roles/characters.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YXuX2bg2abKurn6bfWryqZqia8sCrKWNkJMsMWvOiGnuobhDUBTYvECUzSt9Zw55h0WiUH2hfLgalPDBKk3CBxCGuXZH2kpPRXCZMT0vznAg_6jRkwxOwn1KP-zxcSo8po3_YO1_puRaeUeDiDb3L-q5DBKtO1UvkdcC3TjYq38XtP1sJhNlG5W1dQ/s752/tumblr_pqndxkH0Zr1ynddtqo1_540.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YXuX2bg2abKurn6bfWryqZqia8sCrKWNkJMsMWvOiGnuobhDUBTYvECUzSt9Zw55h0WiUH2hfLgalPDBKk3CBxCGuXZH2kpPRXCZMT0vznAg_6jRkwxOwn1KP-zxcSo8po3_YO1_puRaeUeDiDb3L-q5DBKtO1UvkdcC3TjYq38XtP1sJhNlG5W1dQ/w133-h200/tumblr_pqndxkH0Zr1ynddtqo1_540.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>Sam found himself following the work, and landed the role of Dickie Greenleaf in a <u>daring</u> production of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Talented Mr. Ripley</u>. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> the creativity & physicality of the play, which they performed in Northampton. Sam also took on small roles in TV shows, before gravitating <u>slowly</u> back to London. Sam also <u>learned</u> to live outside of a suitcase, staying in hotels for a few days or weeks, or crashing with <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">generous</u> friends before moving once again. Even if Sam wanted to place roots somewhere, it would've been <u>impossible</u> due to being on the move for the job. Thanks to Sam's time on soap operas, having <u>previously</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">struggled</u> to get credit due to his own debts; Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> qualified for a credit card with a 100,000 credit limit. Sam was over the moon. It <u>wasn't</u> about the finances, but the fact that he was <u>making</u> <u>progress</u> as an actor. So, rather than building a home; Sam found himself for the next big deal. Over the next couple of years, it became a way of life. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALWAYS</u> on the move. Sam learned to <u>love</u> it.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadrQv04IP2y0spHTF9fBgsOvZF1yigsENCexVBbX8hpw3wNIuz6McDcVIw8OU3uY927WCl3OEYnfdTDXksXUlTDgq0R8AM0aSbW4MkFGuQPwJHQ9mgwiLtot9-toeET0BK1Nwf2IQNNazeBGb39xOhQl8bRHHHtAHKoQ4fNvTbVHZ9e-E3yIl_kToSg/s270/download.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="270" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadrQv04IP2y0spHTF9fBgsOvZF1yigsENCexVBbX8hpw3wNIuz6McDcVIw8OU3uY927WCl3OEYnfdTDXksXUlTDgq0R8AM0aSbW4MkFGuQPwJHQ9mgwiLtot9-toeET0BK1Nwf2IQNNazeBGb39xOhQl8bRHHHtAHKoQ4fNvTbVHZ9e-E3yIl_kToSg/s1600/download.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div>Every time Sam arrived in a new city, Sam felt like an explorer. He <u>wasn't</u> <u>alone</u> in this. He made great friends with those around him and continued to <u>keep</u> his eyes on the horizon. In 2009, Sam traveled to Birmingham to work on a daytime TV drama called <u style="font-style: italic;">Doctor's</u> where Sam played Scott Nielson; a love interest for one of the nurses. When his character died of a heroin overdose, Sam left the show <u>hoping</u> he would be <u>recognized</u> as an actor who was <u>comfortable</u> portraying dark, conflicted characters. </div><div><br /></div><div>In any profession that relies on opportunity, it's easy to let self-doubt creep in. Several years have passed since Sam left drama school, and though her acting CV was growing, Sam sometimes felt like his BIG BREAK had eluded him. Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> for the parts he's played, and had learned <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> for the experience. As time passed, and Sam continued living hand-to-mouth in London, juggling casual work with audition calls, Sam began to wonder if he was letting himself down in some ways. Part-time work was fun at times, but unrewarding. While some of his peers were falling to the side, Sam <u>stayed</u> resilient. Or perhaps stubborn. For every audition Sam attended, he was <u>increasingly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> that his looks may be an influencial factor. He was 20-something with a physical presence. As a result, Sam aimed to make sure that he hit the right marks in terms of expectation. Sam even worked as a lifeguard, though he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> unqualified. He was essentially required to fold towels and check the PH levels of the jacuzzi, but he still felt <u style="font-style: italic;">nervous</u> each day and quickly handed in his notice, <u>despite</u> the <u>free</u> access to the gym that came with the job.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnGYoe1ySUvxSODgp1xGCC7oEEJthkjuxmrMVIhfwC39YZno_4LOgl8ns5r9ZteR2M0wfjT-GH4aARL0Wl8AupxRTlgHuaDPTSw00LI6VqoQzi1_StXuwAAZEUhfb5wjykZ4clDF2uUKU5jwN97X2MU3QFOu_lOVn38B6Oga25x9T_nXZ8IleuQoa5w/s1457/edc5da1c3334e265943f444042e7850d.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1457" data-original-width="860" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnGYoe1ySUvxSODgp1xGCC7oEEJthkjuxmrMVIhfwC39YZno_4LOgl8ns5r9ZteR2M0wfjT-GH4aARL0Wl8AupxRTlgHuaDPTSw00LI6VqoQzi1_StXuwAAZEUhfb5wjykZ4clDF2uUKU5jwN97X2MU3QFOu_lOVn38B6Oga25x9T_nXZ8IleuQoa5w/s320/edc5da1c3334e265943f444042e7850d.jpg" width="189" /></a></div>Sam was <u>careful</u> with his diet, but now began to <u>understand</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessity</u> to eat more to <u>allow</u> his body time to <u>thrive</u>. He paid <b><u>attention</u></b> to calorie intake, and considered <u>every</u> meal in terms of what it might mean for his chances of getting work. In hindsight, when Sam considers that time in his life, he <u>recognized</u> that he was living for a while with a low-level eating disorder. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">requirement</u> for an actor <u>drove</u> him too far sometimes. Sam <u>loves</u> training, but in his early years, it had led to an <u>unhealthy</u> relationship with food. He rationed what he ate, often consuming salads <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">knowing</b> they were low in calories. We often talk about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">pressure</u> on women to conform. Sam <u>certa</u> made <u>inly</u> felt the same <u>expectation</u> upon him, which is why Sam responded by maintaining a disciplined eating and exercise regime. It was a form of <u>control</u> in a world that Sam wasn't in. He just felt like he <b><u>had</u></b> to do something to make himself selectable for a role. The <u>right</u> clothes, the right hair; etc. There were things Sam <u><b>tried</b></u> to change & adapt as the audition <u style="font-weight: bold;">required</u>. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> healthy, nor was he happily fulfilled. One more sacrifice he <u><b>had</b></u> <b><u>to</u></b> make became more muscular that he began to think of food in terms of nutrition. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">FORCED</u> him to start researching health/fitness, and that's when Sam <u>recognized</u> that the body <u style="font-weight: bold;">needs</u> a healthy, balanced diet to survive & grow. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">vital</u> lesson, and even <u>now</u> he sometimes had to remind himself that there can be <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> compromise.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnuAdUtPpP1-DJ4gN1wO7gDqBrk0xd0PWSD2n9emkBH2Z_AVQuZS8nsN2smiSbKlg0N_Qd0UNcScxeOiHbhyBYKjJVMzW3TedSmztaHllJ-cJHpw5U7aCRPJFUZz_WUK2T-VrKrXXVTH6FWxuaB5NyCURZgH7DUrWDwsxvCq_w5wLHDtkG4MNj9fDSA/s236/154729643a819d4a0053aa0e35012625--young-alexander-the-great-serie-outlander.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnuAdUtPpP1-DJ4gN1wO7gDqBrk0xd0PWSD2n9emkBH2Z_AVQuZS8nsN2smiSbKlg0N_Qd0UNcScxeOiHbhyBYKjJVMzW3TedSmztaHllJ-cJHpw5U7aCRPJFUZz_WUK2T-VrKrXXVTH6FWxuaB5NyCURZgH7DUrWDwsxvCq_w5wLHDtkG4MNj9fDSA/w200-h200/154729643a819d4a0053aa0e35012625--young-alexander-the-great-serie-outlander.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Sam still runs today; <u>mostly</u> to clear his head. His work allows him to <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRAVEL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WORLD</u>. When Sam's running,he becomes <u>invisible</u>. It's his time & place. Each run is a journey. <u style="font-style: italic;">Young Alexander The Great</u> was one of the <u>first</u> movies Sam had made. It was a bit of a car-crash production in the making. Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> it <b><u>NEVER</u></b> made the big screen. Or any screen for that matter. Despite the challenges - and there were <u>many</u> - <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> to calculate. They had a terrific time on-set and made <b><u>firm</u></b> friends with the cast/crew. It was just one of those films with <u style="font-weight: bold;">big</u> ambitions and great intentions, a shoestring budget and compromises that were hard to cover-up. It was an incredible experience, with hundreds of extras in key scenes. It hadn't banked on the fact that in playing a young <u style="font-style: italic;">Alexander</u>, Sam would be expected to ride any horse but a <u style="font-weight: bold;">giant</u> stallion. There was <b><u>no</u></b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> Sam could admit he wasn't able to take on the task. He just took the reins - <u>literally</u> - and hoped for the best. It looked <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> for the camera. Sam had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> how to make the damn thing stop once he had ridden it out of shot. <u>Literally</u>. The director yelled <u>Cut</u>! But, it made <u>no</u> difference. The horse was on a <u>mission</u>, and when it <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> showed and turned around, Sam had to pretend he didn't hear the director's call. He felt like a <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">total</u> dumbass. Even if he had been able to ride <u>convincingly</u>, all of his acting muster could not distract from the fact that Sam was strapped.</div><div><br /></div><div>Regardless of this finished movie, Sam's memories of that production never fail to make him <u>smile</u>. He looks back and recognizes that <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> milestone is <u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> to life. The rewards might be unexpected, while the experience can only make you wiser and better prepared. On his return flight from Egypt, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">vowed</u> that the time hadn't come for him to learn to ride a horse properly. His big break <u>hadn't</u> materialized as Sam had hoped, but if he was ever asked to climb into the saddle for the camera again, he'd be <b><u>prepared</u></b>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaJdpX5WKYTqRvmniF9rDYi9KuG_NhSScIYab5oAJdEnsThPrzjrDz_9u187VMg5fcYNPaNg4pbPLVFqp498dkM4Y-HSrK5aeheD2r-XxmSnjlJejlZ1lPfR8hFjYkwbXNuzvMkPSSE0TEES9vKUdC7885iIKBqDs3B5do5cxl0DmuopGkxgyb09kxw/s256/images.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="197" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUaJdpX5WKYTqRvmniF9rDYi9KuG_NhSScIYab5oAJdEnsThPrzjrDz_9u187VMg5fcYNPaNg4pbPLVFqp498dkM4Y-HSrK5aeheD2r-XxmSnjlJejlZ1lPfR8hFjYkwbXNuzvMkPSSE0TEES9vKUdC7885iIKBqDs3B5do5cxl0DmuopGkxgyb09kxw/s1600/images.jpeg" width="197" /></a></div>Following the release of <u style="font-style: italic;">Young Alexander</u> in 2010, Sam began auditioning for roles in bigger television/film productions. Things <u>seemed</u> promising on paper, and yet the years that followed were fulfilled with rejections. To make things <u>harder</u> to handle, sometimes Sam would find himself recalled. Sam would <u>not</u> try to excite himself for a 2ND interview, but it would be hard for a project that would be career-making. As well as chasing around casting calls in London, Sam began flying out to L.A., or to his great <u>excitement</u> - <u>they</u> <u>flew</u> him out to him. Sam's first visit in L.A. was to test for a big-budget television show in the making. Naturally, Sam was <u style="font-style: italic;">excited</u>. It felt significant, as if perhaps he might be going places <u>at</u> <u>last</u>. His last visit to the U.S. had been travelling prior to the drama school. Before this, Sam traveled the country penny-pinching. Now, the costs were covered by the production company.</div><div><br /></div><div>If Sam was honest with himself, this was <u style="font-weight: bold;">hardly</u> the definition of success. He was still working dead-end jobs due to <u>yet</u> getting the work he <u>really</u> wanted to pursue. Sam had <u>enjoyed</u> the journey so far, but time was ticking. Sam was in his early 30s and bartending. So, having arrived in L.A., Sam was <u>determined</u> to <u>make</u> <u>the</u> <u>most</u> of his short story. </div><div><br /></div><div>With a few hours <u>prior</u> to the audition, Sam decided to <u>tour</u> Los Angeles up to Hollywood, voting <u>all</u> of the cinematic <u style="font-weight: bold;">history</u> that Sam <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">always</b> wanted to visit. As the tour continued, Sam's <u style="font-style: italic;">Nokia</u> phone went off. He was 20 minutes <u>late</u> to his bartending shift. He lost <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u> track of the time in lieu of tourism. He <u>forgot</u> to call the time of work. After finding out his location from work, the phone went <u>silent</u>. From there, Sam continued to enjoy the tour. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHX8feYHEAgATGKavYa8X-eTITR7Fgn98jUU2csIgJrZFd_UB90sSsVAJUJzZwQgQ5sE5vGiqTjMbIFzBVE5i9MaknX90UxjxZt44yV5Te3OrgO0t4M59pc6TZuozFljys38lZ5ZGDt7Ag_J-g9aS4iviCy8Iwp8ZTM3lcNmzkYK3mtYKQo9RcPxsSvw/s750/5af8050f4b2d8420bb4a95b6a2e6ad9f.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHX8feYHEAgATGKavYa8X-eTITR7Fgn98jUU2csIgJrZFd_UB90sSsVAJUJzZwQgQ5sE5vGiqTjMbIFzBVE5i9MaknX90UxjxZt44yV5Te3OrgO0t4M59pc6TZuozFljys38lZ5ZGDt7Ag_J-g9aS4iviCy8Iwp8ZTM3lcNmzkYK3mtYKQo9RcPxsSvw/s320/5af8050f4b2d8420bb4a95b6a2e6ad9f.png" width="205" /></a></div>With a big-time audition that had taken Sam out of his bedside and across the Atlantic, it was <u>impossible</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to get his hopes up. Even though Sam <u>knew</u> the competition to play <u style="font-style: italic;">Aquaman</u> would be <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u>, Sam was disappointed to head home having missed out on the role. The audition had been <u>very</u> strange. They took turns to throw down push-ups, then one-by-one they were paraded in front of suits. It felt like <u>everyone</u> from the network was there. While push-ups were <u>intended</u> to leave you feeling bulked-up, they leave you more sweaty. Heat & Sam <u>just</u> <u>don't</u> <u>get</u> <u>along</u>. That is why Sam settles for black for most situations: Black hides a multitude of sins. Sam began to pick up further calls that sent him back to L.A. as time passed. While Sam learned to be <u>realistic</u> about his chances of success among other actors in his situation, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> gave up on his dream.</div><div><br /></div><div>As Sam came to <u>realize</u> he had to play the game according to L.A.'s rules, Sam relied on the tireless work of his agent. Once he figured the lay of the rules, Sam found himself being advised on what was on the <u>UP</u> <u>&</u> <u>UP</u>! Driven in the <u>right</u> & <u>proper</u> direction, it was <b><u>completely</u> </b><u>new</u> to him. It felt weird, but Sam thought it was part of the process. Having come this far, with little to lose, Sam could afford to expand how he wanted to present himself. It soon <u>looked</u> like Sam was going places, but Sam took public transport. With what little money he had from bartending gigs in London, any travel throughout L.A. was due to the bus or <u style="font-style: italic;">Metro</u>. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> he could afford, but something he <b><u>kept</u> </b><u>hidden</u>. One cannot buy into indulgences; but Sam does <u>love</u> the airy environment. <u style="font-style: italic;">Paramount Studios</u> are Sam's <u>favorite</u> place to visit due to it being a <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> place to change in with the lavatories. Sam learned a fashionable mistake by sweating through white. The receptionist was caught off guard that Sam took the bus. More like taken aback.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1Rt5wlu-WSyQs_FfRtQPle6q9RwPw61MafNySUt_oGPsW6OCQyGpB5SopBqQBFlQ3FBCGL9FQ4ATg0ALPc-php1OYKqM6qKne_gdGbdu2FcQxQd3GHU6wADy9WT1MK6ztPtNcICGEy5v3pM-ewlh8FSanTMg6LpMBRlQmtZD5lRBsWv8oSh8jo46XQ/s1920/Universal_Pictures_%25281999%2529.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1Rt5wlu-WSyQs_FfRtQPle6q9RwPw61MafNySUt_oGPsW6OCQyGpB5SopBqQBFlQ3FBCGL9FQ4ATg0ALPc-php1OYKqM6qKne_gdGbdu2FcQxQd3GHU6wADy9WT1MK6ztPtNcICGEy5v3pM-ewlh8FSanTMg6LpMBRlQmtZD5lRBsWv8oSh8jo46XQ/s320/Universal_Pictures_%25281999%2529.webp" width="320" /></a></div>At a time when Sam was shuffling between couch surfing and short term rentals, he had received an invitation for the film; <u style="font-style: italic;">Tron:Legacy</u>, with a <u>blockbuster</u> budget. The <u>initial</u> audition was surprisingly well. As a result, the studio wanted to fly Sam out. They flew him out on first-class and stayed in a<u> luxurious</u> hotel that Sam could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> have afforded out of his <u>own</u> pocket, up until <u style="font-style: italic;">Universal Studios</u>. It was <u style="font-style: italic;">exciting</u>; but up until Sam came down with the flu preceding the week of the trip. Sam didn't quite feel like himself as he packed. He felt like <u>complete</u> shit. Sam was living in a <u>rough</u> portion of North London. Sam was next door to <u>dangerous</u> drug dealers who piqued interest in Sam's vehicle from the situation. All he could do was jump in and <u>hope</u> a restorative sleep on the plane would help Sam to live up to expectations. It didn't.</div><div><br /></div><div><u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwe0E1LDGw2ZCNLBe1E4WjZ9ftUvLzuOm-QLSBCqe-cmIAP__wucfJjsq8XZQaVFh2zshK6JbJ86dTdCgIsyJLeaakAkdsyawWMYJHTwaGLzExn7yjg1EHk5XTOHTMT_aYrXVQVUruvN9cZ3EWcZJOznkprAiqf0KE4TepxGmR8AhBtetynvkLkdALUw/s600/sam-heughan-lead-1533140008.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="285" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwe0E1LDGw2ZCNLBe1E4WjZ9ftUvLzuOm-QLSBCqe-cmIAP__wucfJjsq8XZQaVFh2zshK6JbJ86dTdCgIsyJLeaakAkdsyawWMYJHTwaGLzExn7yjg1EHk5XTOHTMT_aYrXVQVUruvN9cZ3EWcZJOznkprAiqf0KE4TepxGmR8AhBtetynvkLkdALUw/s320/sam-heughan-lead-1533140008.jpg" width="152" /></a></div>Anyone</u> in the tail end of a flu looks <u>absolutely</u> terrible. Whomever Sam caught a glimpse of himself in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">darkened</u> windows of the car that transported him, Sam seen someone he <b><u>didn't</u> </b><u>even</u> recognize. It didn't help that he was stressing out about the fact that he might <u style="font-weight: bold;">have</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> tip the driver. Sam had only a <u>few</u> dollars in his pocket, and that was <u>it</u>. The driver could <u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> of Sam's financial status because he <u>accepted</u> his pitiful offering with good graces, and wished Sam luck. After a change of clothes that looked <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredible</u> with a leather jacket & a tight shirt from the wardrobe. Sam was <u>practically</u> glowing with good health. It was <u>all</u> a front, but for a <u>brief</u> moment, Sam felt like he <u>belonged</u>. It meant he could be <u>proud</u> of himself. Ahead of the <u>first</u> scene, with a <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">full</b> crew, Sam felt confused. He was used to multiple cameras from his soap opera days. Going with your instincts. The space & freedom to what he wanted them momentarily, and Sam forgot his lines. Then, to regain his memory, Sam did some push-ups, breathed & relaxed. It was fun, to be lax and let himself be <u>Sam</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>On his return flight, Sam heard from his agent that <u style="font-weight: bold;">ultimately</u> casting for the film had gone in a different direction. Sam <u>wasn't</u> surprised. He hadn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">established</u> himself yet, though he did have a Garrett Hedlund look to him. Sam told himself it was only a matter of time. Even if so much of it comes to luck, Sam was doing the right thing by following his path in life. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> push himself forward <u>without</u> turning back. Every time, Sam would <u>save</u> up so that he could spend time in L.A. for pilot season. On the morning before his <u>first</u> audition, Sam stopped off for breakfast at a diner. In true California style, Sam had eggs & avocado toast with hot sauce (<i>and ketchup</i>). The food was delicious, and a coffee to top it. It costs him $20 <u>before</u> the tip. As he stepped outside, Sam seen the immenties he <u>couldn't</u> afford. He would have to pick up his food from supermarkets to eat in his room, and rely on his manager for the rest. . .which he was good for.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7BdLH5CRLgt4N4n9NuvWc1SUHbiqoDVdbifVfPUpbPEUtr1R0uT5ElZxLXKbZNQjKx903ppO-PXaPzTW1VSF6y3u4Rg4-ErdmbK7NnjRdrlUx9_unN5tEshKWwdiYCnlL-VFpjIjJ13FvvH_STUpl0cOR9ZIryyhW16o8FA0pDhI8GsBVzJIqNjvsA/s3331/Four-Seasons-Logo-1960.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1874" data-original-width="3331" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7BdLH5CRLgt4N4n9NuvWc1SUHbiqoDVdbifVfPUpbPEUtr1R0uT5ElZxLXKbZNQjKx903ppO-PXaPzTW1VSF6y3u4Rg4-ErdmbK7NnjRdrlUx9_unN5tEshKWwdiYCnlL-VFpjIjJ13FvvH_STUpl0cOR9ZIryyhW16o8FA0pDhI8GsBVzJIqNjvsA/s320/Four-Seasons-Logo-1960.png" width="320" /></a></div>Sam was <u>always</u> desperate to keep his clothes as <u>fresh</u> as possible, as Sam had a limited wardrobe. Under the West Coast sun, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> all but <u>impossible</u> to stay cool. He had to <b><u>MAKE</u></b> <b><u>IT</u> <u>WORK</u>!</b> Sam's manager's house was a <u>great</u> reprieve from the heat. Sam's manager then <u>treated</u> Sam to a bar from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Four Seasons</u>. Sam was then told by some executives, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">destined</u> to make movies. As the days & weeks passed, Sam found himself changing in <u>subtle</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">unexpected</u> ways. Sam was used to living out of a suitcase with <u>no</u> <u>form</u> of roots with family or routine to keep him grounded. He had traveled <u>all</u> <u>over</u> the U.K. for work, and had grown comfortable with clinging to hope, seeing it slip away and then grasping for the next opportunity, Sam had plenty of friends, some of whom were in the <u>same</u> situation, but in Los Angeles. Sam <u>couldn't</u> relax. Either way, he felt like an alien in the city, or the population was foreign to him. Even though Sam had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> that he could call home, apart from a run-down, <u>miserable</u> London bedsit, Sam felt a long way from something. On a subconscious level, Sam just wanted to fit in. If he could feel like be belonged out there then perhaps the breaks in his career would open up to him. Slowly but surely, Sam's newfound accent is bedded in. On occasion, if someone picked up on it and asked where Sam was from, he gave some vague answers about living in the U.K. for a while. It was an <u>understatement</u>, but he hoped it carried the faintest suggestion that he had started out on a side of the Atlantic. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4nHBq1UDQNg0ekmKC5-6vaJyUHuvW-I2gCMVTRHge0-BQ1JViUxcG79HugAHQbWyHnm-HgapkUGH0cc1dyagmCIHbk8jKSXHv0Stj55axhKELmM4Q_2q4UBjZixK8NH9lV27pCHqKLPhY1oDQvPUM1JVxQlHUU8RB5vcF2JETraP2dTmUCCYpmdurA/s891/4d2eda4cdf344715b175e9c76c451936.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="559" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4nHBq1UDQNg0ekmKC5-6vaJyUHuvW-I2gCMVTRHge0-BQ1JViUxcG79HugAHQbWyHnm-HgapkUGH0cc1dyagmCIHbk8jKSXHv0Stj55axhKELmM4Q_2q4UBjZixK8NH9lV27pCHqKLPhY1oDQvPUM1JVxQlHUU8RB5vcF2JETraP2dTmUCCYpmdurA/s320/4d2eda4cdf344715b175e9c76c451936.jpg" width="201" /></a></div>As Sam's account enriched (<i>at times pretending to be Canadian</i>, <i>with no recourse of the </i><u style="font-style: italic;">actual</u> <i>dialect</i>) what money Sam possessed began to run out. Sam couldn't help but feel like he was letting down those whom helped him. At the same time, Sam's <u>need</u> to feel accepted by L.A. had taken a <u style="font-weight: bold;">desperate</u> turn. Having arrived looking like a low-budget Londoner, Sam had taken to wearing cowboy hats & jeans, a vest and open shirt. . . and a <u style="font-style: italic;">Stetson</u>. It wasn't big or clever. Sam thought if he made a big impression with a big personality that earned him attention in America, if he could create that impression through his appearance, perhaps he could be a contender. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u>, Sam tried to be someone else and lost himself for all the wrong reasons.</div><div><br /></div><div>When the money - and with it his stay - Sam's came to an end. He left his manager's house for the <u>final</u> time. Sam just walked. He had <u>no</u> <u>desire</u> to go back to his hotel just then. Despondently, Sam crossed Hollywood on foot. As a pedestrian, with his dreams <u>all</u> but gone, the streets revealed themselves as dusty and dirty. Sam drifted alongside the <u style="font-style: italic;">Walk Of Fame</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">Sunset Blvd</u>. and various <u style="font-weight: bold;">ICONIC</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Hollywood</u> locations. <u>Traveling</u> through the city, Sam felt the city was laughing <u>at</u> him. At this point, Sam was <u>hurting</u> in <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> areas. He was counting the coins in his pocket, <u>hoping</u> he'd have enough for a <u style="font-style: italic;">Metro</u> ticket back to his hotel, when his phone went off. He was <u style="color: red;">alerted</u> that his bank account was on the <span style="color: red; text-decoration-line: underline;">RED</span><span>. Sam had <u>zero</u> money and <u>NO</u> <u>WAY</u> home. He was lost in L.A. He <u>emotionally</u> <u>broke</u> <u>down</u>. He felt like a <u>failure</u> whom was thrown away.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1NERNXzGdDwSEQjKeTP8yFGeBsym5l394M2hIK3ZBiIsFibHeFClkKAnEAgVItlYKi7wzJinx4ViCKJVrVAcLxOkDc1fc30dyxB2Fchq1wzwQP10Pn0NPNqQOJOktLVubNWc-zFksNO0MMikxo0fNDoNkJ2ZT9WxBnssnR2nLKEIMQSu-GsINoeuXg/s810/pfc.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="810" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1NERNXzGdDwSEQjKeTP8yFGeBsym5l394M2hIK3ZBiIsFibHeFClkKAnEAgVItlYKi7wzJinx4ViCKJVrVAcLxOkDc1fc30dyxB2Fchq1wzwQP10Pn0NPNqQOJOktLVubNWc-zFksNO0MMikxo0fNDoNkJ2ZT9WxBnssnR2nLKEIMQSu-GsINoeuXg/s320/pfc.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>At this point, Sam was well-fuelled from the outside. He had the hotel waiter to thank for that. The waiter's accent reminded him of a time when Sam filmed a movie on-location in the actor's homeland. In <u style="font-style: italic;">A Princess For Christmas</u>, Sir Roger Moore played Sam's aristocratic, castle-dwelling father. Towards the end of the film, both Sam & Roger could <u>tell</u> that their co-star Katie McGrath was feeling the pressure. Sam's been in her shoes/situation, where you muddle through a moment in a scene and just <u>know</u> you've done better. Sam had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u> himself <u>not</u> to smile. Sir Roger had sabotaged a shoot that Katie had to re-do. Sam loved Sir Roger as much as he loves <u>ANY</u> Christmas movie. <u style="font-style: italic;">Bad Santa</u> is one of Sam's <u style="font-weight: bold;">ULTIMATE</u> holiday films. </span>In Scotland, <u>irritation</u> runs amuck when the world runs Halloween <u>right</u> <u>into</u> <u>prior</u> to Christmas. What's the rush?</div><div><br /></div><div>Shuffling between London & L.A. funded by what money Sam earned, he <u>tried</u> <u>out</u> for <u>any</u> role <u>any</u><u>where</u>. Yet, <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</u> crept around the corners. Sometimes, Sam could overcome it, but there would always be occasions where Sam would let himself down. His agent assured him that <u style="font-style: italic;">nerves</u> were <u>natural</u>. To make things <u style="font-weight: bold;">tougher</u>, in America, if Sam made it through the <u>first</u> audition and into recalls efficiently, it would lead to contract negotiations. Even though Sam <u>hadn't</u> secured the part, his agent would be expected to strike a deal with the studio that could be signed if it all worked out. The system is designed to promote <u>confidence</u> and efficiency for the production. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u>, for a broke actor like Sam, it meant that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">value</u> of a role - and it had the <u>potential</u> to be life-changing. Sam would calculate what debt he could pay off, get his priorities in order and begin to dream <u>BIG</u>! Doing <u>very</u> <u>little</u> for Sam's <i>nerves</i>. Whenever Sam found himself in this position, he wondered if the tables were turned, if everything turned out okay. Sam never seen it as a chance to make money; it was more about possibilities open to him.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaO838xk7EkW31v7oEaxezwdPFG0p2jduSCPQUGEwMaxgBOOp8OHns7rUpuGkifhjgUBeOEitJlyTfw1lniVqU8z5Z_R1GUhk1hdb7Yo1WdtXLxSOLBeoCmASQBwhgHxpip9f4drD4JqwsSm0A1nkash7s3rNye6DvUO86hxBUZ1OQA5BE_zZ1kXNsg/s225/download.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqaO838xk7EkW31v7oEaxezwdPFG0p2jduSCPQUGEwMaxgBOOp8OHns7rUpuGkifhjgUBeOEitJlyTfw1lniVqU8z5Z_R1GUhk1hdb7Yo1WdtXLxSOLBeoCmASQBwhgHxpip9f4drD4JqwsSm0A1nkash7s3rNye6DvUO86hxBUZ1OQA5BE_zZ1kXNsg/s1600/download.jpeg" width="225" /></a></div>There were moments in Sam's career when he was up in the running for a project, he would be <u>gutted</u> when the project fell through. Sam was also in the running for a <u style="font-style: italic;">Superman</u> reboot, having been taken under the guise of the film's producer. Like a dumbass, Sam placed his <u>hopes</u> in landing the role. Back in L.A., Sam was lent a house to stay in, along with a personal trainer to help fill out the costume. He was <u>prepared</u> for the part. To do <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> for the part, and that included adding meat to his diet to help build muscle. Sam was living a quaint life as a vegetarian. Then his trainer suggested that protein from sources kike chicken/steak was <u>effective</u> in building muscle, and that was something Sam <u>couldn't</u> ignore. While the <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Superman</i> project went on without him, Sam sought <u>comfort</u> in the fact that working on his physical presence could help him <u>stand</u> <u>out</u> for future roles. Sam <u>always</u> seen himself as a vegetarian inhabiting the body of a carnivore.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpJ3MByJR7eHlSYESRy_8MHyX7KbE2q9iDce73h64-P7k0krrKwAIhrCW4BUHuQNN_YlCWSHPBohzOKdev2ypIxmsAuSLmGPwImwrMosTXGJX4KZM0zkmAm2-CEKq-sZOApAON_G5qkECQos8tecqyGzXzapwUc_M5X_JSd5fPMiZwskztIbYnNHJFw/s739/8a999c9823e9ce2ef76c3f0f9e6772b0.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="415" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpJ3MByJR7eHlSYESRy_8MHyX7KbE2q9iDce73h64-P7k0krrKwAIhrCW4BUHuQNN_YlCWSHPBohzOKdev2ypIxmsAuSLmGPwImwrMosTXGJX4KZM0zkmAm2-CEKq-sZOApAON_G5qkECQos8tecqyGzXzapwUc_M5X_JSd5fPMiZwskztIbYnNHJFw/s320/8a999c9823e9ce2ef76c3f0f9e6772b0.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>Getting close to landing roles but never lighting that cigar, it was technology in the form of home video auditions that was Sam's saving grace. In the world of casting auditions, it sparked a revolution. Recording audition tapes in private and with <u>no</u> <u>pressure</u> did <u>wonders</u> for Sam's <u>confidence</u>. Over in Los Angeles, Sam <u>quickly</u> found it opened doors. Sam was invited across for more auditions or called in to talk about roles in <u style="font-weight: bold;">detail</u>, which made Sam feel like he was <u>itching</u> closer to the role of a lifetime. By accident rather than design, Sam's newfound <u>passion</u> for self-taping into a sideline business. Sam was still <u>striving</u> to earn a living for acting, but mostly making money from under-the-table jobs at catering jobs. Sam's shifts were in the <u>evening</u>, which gave him the <u>daytime</u> to work the audition circuit for a dream. Once Sam realized that recording his <u>own</u> auditions had potential, he spent what <u>little</u> cash he had on a half-decent video recorder and a couple of lamps. The <u>pure</u> <u>&</u> <u>true</u> example of <u style="font-weight: bold;">working</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">with</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">what</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">you've</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">got</u> to create his own D.I.Y. studio. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">worked</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> at creating the right environment that worked <u>best</u> for him. what made his eyes <u>POP</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio7YswSYEOUWaQiat6CS834imlfeun3hElJyi6qE9NR2OvZ4fXsumahF7H1HafALHiO1Qy1RitjfzYqcj5nOiUIBLTOKSu7ym6PizVip2CPThifqzznJQcUaI9baubQhze3FOSvbE3GrHf35XvWL91a-B8hyzub2IQaKSJ9BFTqvhVjXXciBSmArqzdw/s100/81VUavmB6RL._AC_SX679_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="61" data-original-width="100" height="61" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio7YswSYEOUWaQiat6CS834imlfeun3hElJyi6qE9NR2OvZ4fXsumahF7H1HafALHiO1Qy1RitjfzYqcj5nOiUIBLTOKSu7ym6PizVip2CPThifqzznJQcUaI9baubQhze3FOSvbE3GrHf35XvWL91a-B8hyzub2IQaKSJ9BFTqvhVjXXciBSmArqzdw/s1600/81VUavmB6RL._AC_SX679_.jpg" width="100" /></a></div>Sam left <u>nothing</u> to chance, and that was when his other actor friends began to pay attention. He began shooting tests for them, and they also got involved behind the camera. As well as filming auditions, they edited them on their computers to get them into the <u>best</u> possible shape for submission. It was a happy time; full of hope & promise, and then fed into Sam's outlook. Each audition had the <u>potential</u> to take Sam places. In turn, it helped him relax when required to perform in person, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">ultimately</u> led him into a role Sam <u>simply</u> could <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> refuse. <u>Everyone</u> knows of <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Batman</i>. The idea that the concept might translate to a stage show was something Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> ignore. On that basis alone, Sam went to the audition <u>simply</u> to find out how on earth they were to pull it off. <u style="font-style: italic;">Batman Live</u>! was a spectation on <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> level, and <u>completely</u> magical.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam can stand his ground as a fighter. On stage, at any rate. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u> in any reflection of <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> life. Having learned judo as a boy, Sam had gone to pick up martial arts along the way. He also tried a little boxing and very little sword experience. Earning himself a fencing certificate during his time at drama school. It was a tool that would be handy in his acting repertoire. As Sam tried out for the <u style="font-style: italic;">Batman</u> role, his efforts contributed to an outcome Sam had been chasing for years. To be <u>precise</u>, the role in this <u>live</u> extravaganza was shared between Sam and another actor. With a cast of 50 acrobats & actors, and a moving mechanized stage that took on a life of its own under the spotlight; it was truly a grandscale event. When the U.K. dates were <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">successfully</b> <u>completely</u>; <u><i>Batman </i>LIVE</u>! hit stages <u>globally</u>! Other than a few "<i>flatulent</i>" bumps along the way; the show flew like wind with success!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lFyACQeAtutwoXSBBaLetPFq6gxUZFFlVXCo7kjS3bu_MgQR4MkSihDXI8Y0tp2ZQkXMtW_v17LWOIMI_HaLnFOjD_K5r0buWj2_01B7WbH_NF-xyhOxqlBbYkGf1X3Ec6N-PrUg9FL36Q7dGGIkoe9uLpSGHC8HCU7MCw5v7ujOieKwI1jpB3bS3w/s600/large_cBk0TKOc64iR5TDi1k5bWAZwbhz.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lFyACQeAtutwoXSBBaLetPFq6gxUZFFlVXCo7kjS3bu_MgQR4MkSihDXI8Y0tp2ZQkXMtW_v17LWOIMI_HaLnFOjD_K5r0buWj2_01B7WbH_NF-xyhOxqlBbYkGf1X3Ec6N-PrUg9FL36Q7dGGIkoe9uLpSGHC8HCU7MCw5v7ujOieKwI1jpB3bS3w/s320/large_cBk0TKOc64iR5TDi1k5bWAZwbhz.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Sam has always wanted to be known as an <u>approachable</u> and good person. It's not only human nature, and when it comes from the heart, we should feel like we're the <u>best</u> version of ourselves. As an actor, being nice isn't always a quality that opens doors. Even though Sam is able to play beyond his reach, people often fail to see beyond Sam's <u>natural</u> character. During his wilderness years before <u style="font-style: italic;">Batman Live</u>!, when Sam was shuttling between fruitless auditions in L.A. & London, Sam was called in by the <u>creators</u> of Jame Bond to try for the lead. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">blew</u> Sam's mind to even be in the same class as those before him. Sam loved Timothy Dalton's take in <i><u>The</u></i><u style="font-style: italic;"> Living Daylights</u>. So, Sam went along to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Bond HQ</u> and tried out for the casting director.</div><div><br /></div><div>They spoke a little about Scotland and about <u style="font-style: italic;">Bond</u>, read the scene once and then Sam left. It was all just <u>so</u> <u>quick</u>, the swear beneath Sam's leather jacket just began to form. When Sam left, he wondered about the result from the interview. Sam <u>knew</u> there was <u>stiff</u> competition. When Sam learned the role had gone elsewhere, however, the feedback he received boiled down to the fact that Sam just <u>wasn't</u> edgy enough by nature. Sam was <u>always</u> keen on taking criticism so he could <u>improve</u> as an actor; he just seemed to lack the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALNESS</u> of the character.</div><div> </div><div>Even today, it can be <u>frustrating</u> to be assessed by who he was rather than what Sam <u>can</u> <u>become</u> in a role. Even though Sam plays Jamie Fraser and, yes, he does imbrue <u>some</u> of his <u>own</u> personality with <u>some</u> of Jamie's character. . .Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">actually</u> that guy <u>at</u> <u>heart</u>. <u>Ultimately</u>, Sam doesn't believe he needs to be wild or unpredictable in the <u>real</u> world in order to bring qualities <u>alive</u> on stage or screen. Having faced years of rejection, which can be a <u>bleak</u> place, Sam has a wealth of emotion to draw from. That experience <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> him to raise his game, and since then, Sam has <u>always</u> set high emotions for himself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sam is prone to punish himself <u>internally</u> if he fails to achieve what he sets out to accomplish. He is <u>very</u> persistent. Perhaps that stubborness and determination is also part of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Taurean</u> in him. Sam is also duly a people pleaser at heart. While it was a blast to play <u style="font-style: italic;">Batman</u>, Sam wanted to move on to <u>more</u> complex characters who wore their pants on their inside. In <u>truth</u>, Sam still considered himself to be a theatre actor <u>at</u> <u>heart</u>. On stage, there's <u>more</u> <u>freedom</u> to move between very different roles, and yet Sam still hasn't arrived at a point in his career to cherry-pick.</div><div><br /></div><div>Rather than wait for the right roles to come to him; which could have led to more waiting rooms, Sam built on his newfound confidence from 18-months in a large-scale production. Instead of heading home with his tail between his legs; Sam placed his chips on finding success on the other side of the Atlantic. With his earnings from the tour, Sam took a gamble and moved to America. Even though Sam had traveled to/from L.A. multiple times, this time, however, Sam brought a sense of resolve with him.. Having been conditioned to expect rejection, which helped Sam grow a thick skin, he believed he had a sense of something to offer. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor, north of North Hollywood, Sam drove the <u>cheapest</u> car he could find and keep his head down. He, along with his friend, Kirk, from his <u style="font-style: italic;">Batman</u> days, would treat themselves to American BBQ and a few beers at an Irish bar in Hollywood Blvd all throughout the weekends. They felt like they were <u>so</u> <u>far</u>. . .<u>yet</u> <u>so</u> <u>close</u>. Conviction that it <b><u>WILL</u> <u>HAPPEN</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCgjUzuN4JkfONtyfy3tI3-F55e_fjhP4CbahVhAtgI33oKVFHVo1fzLAzQfuxNDwm0yUGpqNTDrtdLbIUW184xLrfC9d5hHJBd_DRpAt_mTrvLi-kKEvIbpBITAk0_GDz-kv5Q7c0gSPWwoRGhDU6LnsU_AURqOKixl9egp3yNv82aQesM63K0MfIA/s225/download.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCgjUzuN4JkfONtyfy3tI3-F55e_fjhP4CbahVhAtgI33oKVFHVo1fzLAzQfuxNDwm0yUGpqNTDrtdLbIUW184xLrfC9d5hHJBd_DRpAt_mTrvLi-kKEvIbpBITAk0_GDz-kv5Q7c0gSPWwoRGhDU6LnsU_AURqOKixl9egp3yNv82aQesM63K0MfIA/w200-h200/download.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>With a temporary visa that allows Sam to work stateside, he found a place to live next door to a <u style="font-style: italic;">Denny's</u>. Sam would wake up early at around 4-5A to watch U.K. sports. Sam also knew how to create the right impression in terms of what he wore and where he hung out.</div><div><br /></div><div>Older and wiser that his last attempt to break in America, Sam felt he had something to offer. Lean & muscular with his hair now brunette, Sam definitely seen the parts becoming more interesting. Now, with new hair, Sam was being seen for more 'bad guy/badass' roles rather than the good-looking jocks. <u style="font-style: italic;">Batman Live</u>! certainly brought Sam <u>some</u> attention in L.A. that he hadn't experienced before, and he didn't shy away from it. Sam filled his diary/agenda book with auditions and meetings, arriving at each one (<i>despite L.A. traffic and a series of parking tickets</i>) truly <u>believing</u> this would be his big break. When rejection came, Sam was so battle-hardened by disappointment that he brushed it off and moved on. When his money began to run out a second-time, Sam <u>didn't</u> desolate the Hollywood streets in loneliness. Instead he took the knowledge that he had put into his heart and soul into making his life <u>shine</u>! Sam also had a small group of friends going through the same as him supporting one another.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83n5A5XfPjBlkGcGHdhCo0hAzfhsOtzIrV5oz0rtlVQgUbqxclEsqfv7vIjj6VDzZMdRDMbU7uDbVLh0Nx-eiAIWi3PWh2r-pk1caVWVgNK-suWz8YHFdbEZz_65IIDMtAdmu-TgpFNuR92tpIBtRDyhMl_Lxpqac0Iw0GumXGvMr2Q-D11yZbQF2mA/s1920/Agents_of_SHIELD_logo.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83n5A5XfPjBlkGcGHdhCo0hAzfhsOtzIrV5oz0rtlVQgUbqxclEsqfv7vIjj6VDzZMdRDMbU7uDbVLh0Nx-eiAIWi3PWh2r-pk1caVWVgNK-suWz8YHFdbEZz_65IIDMtAdmu-TgpFNuR92tpIBtRDyhMl_Lxpqac0Iw0GumXGvMr2Q-D11yZbQF2mA/s320/Agents_of_SHIELD_logo.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Sam had screen-tested for <u style="font-style: italic;">Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D</u>. He was given 3 scenes to learn <u>on</u>-<u>the</u>-<u>spot</u>. His potential love interest had the scenes pat. . .but it took Sam <u>longer</u> to <u>grasp</u> the material. Then despite being told to prepare in his <u>own</u> accent, the execs said to do the next <u>sounding</u> American. This might've thrown Sam in the past, but now, thanks to the experience, Sam felt confident, and he <u>deftly</u> switched to being an American. <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D</i>. didn't pan out for Sam, but he did feel he did a good test. It just wasn't what/who they were looking for. Sam could feel like his experience & growth custioning the blows; amour was <u>now</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">strong</b>. Sam packed his bags with what money he had left and booked a flight to London. He had given L.A. a shot. . .his <u>best</u> shot; but now he had to face facts. Sam felt his luck was fading out. He didn't see for a reason to stay for a 3RD time for a charm that wasn't apparent. When rejection came, Sam was manning up.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was good for Sam to see his London friends again. They welcomed him back with offers of a sofa bed while he found a room to rent. However, Sam's social circle changed upon his return home. Most of his friends were achieving the same dream as him. The second verse is the same as the first. But, this time, it seemed as though everyone else was <u>trapped</u> in their lives prior to Sam's departure. Sam couldn't blame them. They were living a life of <u>RESPONSIBILITY</u> with marriage, kids..etc. Only the other friend was moving to a more conventional way of living with a starting-up catering company serving up a high-end cocktails at social events. It was a means for finding an acting career. Shortly after his return with <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">immediate</u> means of earning a living, Sam signed up for unemployment benefits. Only lasting a <u>week</u>. The whole process was miserable & depressing. Sam went through the <u>process</u> interview. The interviewer made Sam feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> worthless. As a condition, Sam was <u>expected</u> to apply for cash. He is <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> workshy by <b><u>any</u></b> <u><b>means</b></u>. He couldn't recount his <u>entire</u> resume in the interview. Sam had had more embers of a dream smoldering inside of him. Sam had a <span style="color: #ffa400; text-decoration-line: underline;">fire</span><span> inside of him. He had worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> as an actor. He had been <u>patient</u> in the eyes of rejection and seized an opportunity available to him. That <u>ambition</u> guided him through his 20s. Now that Sam was in his 30s, he had <u>no</u> job, <u>no</u> prospects and everyone in his ear trying to deter him.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>it was the <u>first</u> time since he set out to become an actor that Sam questioned what he was doing. Sam knew looking back that he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">confident</u> over the years that he had made <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> effort/attempt to seize every opportunity to him. Rather than accept a state hand-out, for which Sam was <u>utterly</u> <u>depressing</u>, he found work behind a bar with his friend's company. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> what he was doing. He felt <u>comfortable</u> with the role. A role that he thought his life was <b><u>meant</u> <u>to</u> <u>be</u>!</b></span> </div><div><br /></div><div>Sam had readied a point where he was questioning what he was doing with his life. Despite a mental contemplation from flying home from L.A., Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> abandon his ambition. He had to have direction with a steady income that provided the <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessities</u>; food, shelter . . . etc. If he settled in London, Sam would keep himself in London's company and the social life south of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Thames</u>. Working for a friends' catering company business, Sam found out that pretty much <u>everyone</u> in his friends' employment had <u>some</u> connection to acting. No matter their spectrum, it felt good for Sam to be in the accompaniment of those who shared that same passion and experience. They went to the theatre, discussed auditions and shared the bus home. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAug9MB5kANqyKg8sa95w3_GpmjLqrb5AN8p1vAEakq3WFrV0nJUX2nqwYuCi5XD4SggzXU4FGxFlb_yC5BQbCxKqX3HtYgtR7Sks_BOxxWmrOhD9FeDhSDNcejtr6KGHxt4_MH7M6SXYe2zhoi3mz_gU4a13ydBn47OT3NlPmvLOGVhTqycMgUIotfw/s590/James-Bond-Sam-Heughan-DESTROYS-Richard-Madden-s-chances-in-race-for-role-here-s-why-1262527.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAug9MB5kANqyKg8sa95w3_GpmjLqrb5AN8p1vAEakq3WFrV0nJUX2nqwYuCi5XD4SggzXU4FGxFlb_yC5BQbCxKqX3HtYgtR7Sks_BOxxWmrOhD9FeDhSDNcejtr6KGHxt4_MH7M6SXYe2zhoi3mz_gU4a13ydBn47OT3NlPmvLOGVhTqycMgUIotfw/s320/James-Bond-Sam-Heughan-DESTROYS-Richard-Madden-s-chances-in-race-for-role-here-s-why-1262527.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>One of the clientele that Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">unknowingly</u> chatted up with was Richard Madden walking over for a Gin & Tonic on Sam's tray. They had met a few times, but Richard didn't recognize him. Once he left, Sam made a feeble excuse and made for the closest exit. He felt ashamed & embarrassed, but it also made him more resolved. Sam <u>just</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> settle into this hospitality as a way of life. It <u>just</u> <u>wasn't</u> where his heart belonged. As an actor, Sam wanted <b><u>SUCCESS</u>!</b> At this point, Sam had become <u>almost</u> <u>immune</u> to rejection. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">expected</u> it. He would <u>come</u> <u>close</u> but to <u>no</u> <u>score</u>. Some 15 years after graduating from drama school, while bartending, Sam couldn't help but wonder if he had run out of road. He was struggling to find the money to cover his rent - but he also knew <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to wallow. Instead of wishing he'd done things differently, Sam looked ahead and gave himself an ultimatum: If he hadn't made it by the time </div><div>he was 40; Sam would pack in his dreams and go home.</div><div><br /></div><div>By accident rather than design, throughout his years establishing his career as an actor, Sam had become a pretty good cocktail bartender. He <u>knew</u> how to mix drinks upon request. Sam <u>truly</u> took in the effect of having the showmanship of blending in a glass. In many ways, it was like being a chef. Sam wasn't ready to give up becoming a professional actor. He gave the journey to his next milestone birthday. If that failed to happen, Sam would be quaint behind the bar. He was okay with the idea of it. He liked working with good food/drinks. The sense of <u style="font-weight: bold;">urgency</u> fading, Sam could remain committed to auditioning for a few years, knowing everything would be okay. In some ways, it put Sam at an advantage.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuW0d15fs1xOwXcWsS04vc20n6LjkPQ_xha53FExoimRcK6S0UYk7K4fU_ce1-g4_SEhMeKy6vVHe9QyTmXFneaGqpX6xrzzUAvpLzPGi-aaQpXzuyczK1cZuTMDPb4Um1JAiNgkADqBomtPLkq8QpsAGtq9PcKyjpQTfY3FN92U4l-l8VQwZIArc8w/s500/51PrW27sXWL.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuW0d15fs1xOwXcWsS04vc20n6LjkPQ_xha53FExoimRcK6S0UYk7K4fU_ce1-g4_SEhMeKy6vVHe9QyTmXFneaGqpX6xrzzUAvpLzPGi-aaQpXzuyczK1cZuTMDPb4Um1JAiNgkADqBomtPLkq8QpsAGtq9PcKyjpQTfY3FN92U4l-l8VQwZIArc8w/s320/51PrW27sXWL.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>An element of luck plays a hand in life. At the same time, persistence pays off. If you can keep going, Sam was still attending every audition arranged for him. If he heard anything at all, Sam <u>expected</u> the role he went out for had gone elsewhere. A few days earlier, Sam had auditioned for a role in a drama that was described to <u>him</u> as a time-travelling Scottish adventure. It was called <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u>; based on a series of historical fantasy novels by the American author, Diana Gabaldon. Sam <u>hadn't</u> read them, but when he mentioned them to a friend that he was trying out for the <u>central</u> character, Jamie Fraser; she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> excited. According to his friend, if Sam got this role, all eyes would be on him. </div><div><br /></div><div>High hopes cause <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</u>, that always got in the way of bringing a character to <u>life</u>! Ahead of the audition, Sam was given an except for the script. It was normal and it gave Sam a chance to prepare. The <u>amount</u> of what he was given was troublesome. Sam had 12 pages to <u>learn</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEAVY</u> dialogue. Sam had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DEAL</u> to learn, but he also found it revealed a <u>lot</u> to him about the character. Jame Fraser was <u style="font-weight: bold;">fiercely</u> loyal, intelligent & stubborn. He was also <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u>, grounded & stoic. Sam knew the interworking of who Jamie was. As he ran through the lines, Sam knew <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> Jamie was. A few days post-audition, when his agent called to confirm that Sam got a callback, his friends could <u>barely</u> contain their <i>excitement</i>. <u>Despite</u> this, Sam still <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u> to get his hopes up. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was only when Sam returned to the casting agent, it was <u>only</u> then that Sam sensed things would be different. Sam felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">charge</u>. Jamie Fraser felt like the culmination of those he's played before. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u> the skills Sam learned, and the failed auditions he'd attempted failed came into play with scenes. Sam <b><u>COULD</u> <u>DO</u></b> this. A few days later, while <u>literally</u> cart-pushing at his local supermarket; Sam's cellphone rang. After seeing it was those he auditioned for; Sam had <u>gotten</u> <u>the</u> <u>part</u>. Sam had abandoned a trolley he was due to fill. He headed <u>straight</u> for the pub next door to his friends. They partied <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> that night. For the next few weeks, Sam was on Cloud 9. This was a culmination of <u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u> in the making. All Sam had to do was keep faith in himself to <u style="font-weight: bold;">stay</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u> when fate seemed to keep twisting & turning against him. At last, Sam had big role in production of substance. </div><div><br /></div><div>Having been invited to join the <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> production, things happened <u>very</u> <u>quickly</u>. Within days, Sam was back in Los Angeles to assist in the search for the <u>right</u> Sassenach. Suddenly, Sam was being driven through the <u style="font-style: italic;">Sony</u> studios in a large SUV, free water & mints in the back. The studio gave Sam the <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> background. Tough job; but someone had to do it. Sam had felt like he arrived in a different world. The previous time Sam had been in L.A., he was skint. Every door slammed on him; leaving him with a feeling with no option but to return to his life prior to auditioning. This time, Sam found himself being <u>invited</u> to production meetings and <u>involved</u> in conversations about the creative process. It was <u style="font-style: italic;">exciting</u>; but <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> hadn't <u>set</u> in. Sam still sees himself as the guy <u>wishing</u> behind the bar. At lunch with exec producers & drinks with casting producers, Sam's doubts disappeared. They were "<i>normal</i>" people having a seat at the table. Though Sam <u>wasn't</u> ready to let go of his former self in case he had to return to it.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ05aip9jG7DZqekJNLc7KsWSJeo4L3eZZLrUiD8T7gsm1YxIxpGItINELIVoMejhSZ2PJlRiWf6_BkOpAie2DHqWL66eU8EGBxyudel9v2dpXGb5dynqZ-LM_uf6TOHFXHuICV7-lLBFtjknmHQnUByujmY0ehu1YxCG8BxU7aIcNZALF74baV5Zf0A/s261/download.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="193" data-original-width="261" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ05aip9jG7DZqekJNLc7KsWSJeo4L3eZZLrUiD8T7gsm1YxIxpGItINELIVoMejhSZ2PJlRiWf6_BkOpAie2DHqWL66eU8EGBxyudel9v2dpXGb5dynqZ-LM_uf6TOHFXHuICV7-lLBFtjknmHQnUByujmY0ehu1YxCG8BxU7aIcNZALF74baV5Zf0A/s1600/download.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div>Sam found himself sitting on the other side of an audition panel, and it struck him that he would be staying for a while Instead, Sam watched a <u>long</u> string of talented actresses inhabit the role o Claire. This also invokes stepping up as Jamie and acting a scene with them. Surrounding people were <u style="font-style: italic;">nervous</u>, and Sam <u>truly</u> sympathized with them; having been in their shoes <u>multiple</u> <u>times</u> <u>before</u>. Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">prepared</u> to show what they could do with the proper time/space to relax and show what they could do with the role. One of the <u>most</u> memorable was Laura Donnelly. Laura had read for Claire; but was cast as Jamie's sister, Jenny. Another actor whom made it into the show was Graham McTavish; and Jamie's uncle and Sam's fun travel companion. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Pb8olbo4HDgI7ZSRyGF4zuwsGTESFcFVFwf3taDIxrukm5WbyBY5-2X0aPbXbq1gAUqwUtpz_kwZyl02YChkRoXUMOvhKllTqHxwocP0gEDIDZbxd7YzV2fb2sGI8RIJ9XgQTNzN36x9-LWy6ePy5vcDBUFXSWwJ7syaIJ0Xu3kdKLwIzap261T52g/s275/images.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Pb8olbo4HDgI7ZSRyGF4zuwsGTESFcFVFwf3taDIxrukm5WbyBY5-2X0aPbXbq1gAUqwUtpz_kwZyl02YChkRoXUMOvhKllTqHxwocP0gEDIDZbxd7YzV2fb2sGI8RIJ9XgQTNzN36x9-LWy6ePy5vcDBUFXSWwJ7syaIJ0Xu3kdKLwIzap261T52g/s1600/images.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div>When this dark-haired model with beautiful blue eyes introduced herself to the casting panel,Sam paid <u>attention</u>. In the first instance, this was down to the fact that the character of Claire spoke in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Queen's English</u>; while Catronia Balfe has a soft-lovely British accent. Then <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> to be <u>no</u> obstacle for her as Catriona tried for the part, and Sam <u>wasn't</u> alone when their chemistry <u style="font-weight: bold;">meshed</u>. It was after performing a <u>specific</u> scene with her, it left them both breathless. Catriona was wrapped in Sam's arms, and they both <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> that Jamie & Claire had come into existence <u>together</u>. Sam felt bad for Catriona due to his <u style="font-weight: bold;">profusive</u> sweating under the L.A. sunshine.</div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdUDfnyQPGfeuFxr-14DfQyflOEkbL0yM16uPgwhlKNvWG2CgfYzuwikNAhjgy565MJhI9j1c-lhv-XrCRe5Zxj3BCUm7fiGHqlk8RI_VGdVxXfMrALeTwbYvd1cpJnwQxr5-VVGWs3D4kZ3n16VSaN8vGZSHVeTyO769JeeUEQe5Fy39xDezVlYKjQ/s590/Outlander-season-4-Jamie-Fraser-Sam-Heughan-Claire-Fraser-Caitriona-Balfe-998523.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="590" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdUDfnyQPGfeuFxr-14DfQyflOEkbL0yM16uPgwhlKNvWG2CgfYzuwikNAhjgy565MJhI9j1c-lhv-XrCRe5Zxj3BCUm7fiGHqlk8RI_VGdVxXfMrALeTwbYvd1cpJnwQxr5-VVGWs3D4kZ3n16VSaN8vGZSHVeTyO769JeeUEQe5Fy39xDezVlYKjQ/s320/Outlander-season-4-Jamie-Fraser-Sam-Heughan-Claire-Fraser-Caitriona-Balfe-998523.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam & Diana</td></tr></tbody></table>Catriona was <u>new</u> to acting. It was a <u>big</u> leap for her, and Sam felt that he needed to be protective towards her; as supportive as Jamie is with Claire. What they developed off-screen <u>shined</u> with the cameras-on. Catriona was <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelmed</u> by work and the <u style="font-weight: bold;">pressure</u> of being thrust into the feature role of the show, but Cat tackled it head-on. Sam just wanted to <u>make</u> <u>sure</u> he had her back. Before filming commenced, and consumed their lives, they were invited to attend a 2-week <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Outlander</i> boot camp in Scotland. With an assembled cast, they basically learned to become <u style="font-style: italic;">Highlanders</u>. Sam had to set his own experience of riding the rooftop of an Egyptian taxi and riding a horse <u>properly</u>. They got to <u>be</u> <u>comfortable</u> with the grips with 18TH-century weapons, learning to speak Gaelic, and <u>throw</u> <u>themselves</u> into Diana Gabaldon's series of wonderful books so they could <b><u>appreciate</u></b> the world they were entering outside of the script. Sam also spoke to Diana <u>at</u> <u>length</u>, via e-mail and private messages. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuSzzpTpXjanmLehCSkYNWpLrmW8OneyvAjScSKcFXru1Bta64Niseo4AkcamyJHFNHwXBZxXKzvIhUi9V2-1Yq7Ta9KMvdRkUx-95X7AS-EJWu0PlmXX4itrWjXWqUvZ8CQQ4niJib3r_hICJH3ma9nLUPbma_eS2lW5QT4uJh_vBMSw7Esh-NyY8w/s350/Sam-Heughan-Jamie-Fraser-Outlander-1676122.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuSzzpTpXjanmLehCSkYNWpLrmW8OneyvAjScSKcFXru1Bta64Niseo4AkcamyJHFNHwXBZxXKzvIhUi9V2-1Yq7Ta9KMvdRkUx-95X7AS-EJWu0PlmXX4itrWjXWqUvZ8CQQ4niJib3r_hICJH3ma9nLUPbma_eS2lW5QT4uJh_vBMSw7Esh-NyY8w/s320/Sam-Heughan-Jamie-Fraser-Outlander-1676122.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>Sam has <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> <u>loved</u> the kilt, and now he's wearing one for work purposes. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u> of it. Jamie. . .being a fiery redhead, so Sam was <u style="font-weight: bold;">required</u> to dye his hair. They <u>tried</u> <u>so</u> <u>many</u> <u>times</u> to get it <u>right</u>. It was dyed & bleached 7x in the first 2 weeks and then had to be rested every 2-3 weeks. Eventually, Sam's hair rebelled during the beginning of Season 2 and couldn't take <u>anymore</u>. So, production had to have wigs made. As actors, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">immersed</u> themselves in an era of Scots history that has <u>fascinated</u> Sam as a child. Boys with their toys, and they felt like children playing make-believe. Sam felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">passionate</u> about his role as Jamie Fraser. He could <u>not</u> <u>wait</u> for the first day of filming. Such <u>immersive</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> preparation meant by the time they arrived on-set, it didn't seem like an acting job. They'd had a chance to develop their characters and their relationships with each other, so everything felt <u>completely</u> natural. When the cameras rolled, they felt like a family, and continued 8+ years later. </div><div><br /></div><div>After 2 months of filming, they had completed the first 4 episodes. In that time, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> gang forged bonds and created <u>firm</u> friendships. It wasn't until they arrived in New York, that they <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> what a <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DEAL</u> the show had/was becoming. Within the throws of pending success, pride in what they were doing, and the <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excitement</u> from others with <u style="font-weight: bold;">FANS</u>, Sam just needed to get to grips with finding himself the <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUS</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> <b><u>ATTENTION</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5e7UIgnzHh2ktZb3caz5EddzUbPaAFwlwjFVig1Ivlbqg-ULZ7UtLks4v0DHU09lpMb2QMD2-0r4dDZYByPwUXgM2nJ2HyJ3YLykllM4Cl7PgqxULFyjD64JcpFJaeBPQ2Tx1wByFkYABr3JKF2cmABhcQfGavwd8UUR5GQZMGC_5dM22x2IVfv9toA/s600/st,small,507x507-pad,600x600,f8f8f8.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5e7UIgnzHh2ktZb3caz5EddzUbPaAFwlwjFVig1Ivlbqg-ULZ7UtLks4v0DHU09lpMb2QMD2-0r4dDZYByPwUXgM2nJ2HyJ3YLykllM4Cl7PgqxULFyjD64JcpFJaeBPQ2Tx1wByFkYABr3JKF2cmABhcQfGavwd8UUR5GQZMGC_5dM22x2IVfv9toA/s320/st,small,507x507-pad,600x600,f8f8f8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Having gotten a taste of the wild reception that <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> <u>could</u> expect as a <u style="font-style: italic;">relief</u> to return to filming the rest of the series. The schedule was <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u>, often requiring 12-day blocks of shooting <u>every</u> <u>night</u>. It was hard work, but everyone shared the same <u style="font-weight: bold;">commitment</u> to adapting the novels to the screen in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">compelling</u> way possible. As a result, Sam & Catriona didn't have much time to concern themselves with the rising tides of expectation that closed in all around them. As far as the internet fandom, Sam's popularity <u>grew</u> in social media <u style="font-weight: bold;">overnight</u> when he joined. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">longer</u> Sam from behind the bar; it seemed. He was an actor bringing Jamie Fraser to life. Sam enjoyed the interaction with fans and teased as much as he could about what they were shooting. In America, Sam & Catriona attended events, rubbed shoulders with <u>successful</u> actors, mingled at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Chateau Marmont</u>; where Sam had his <u>quiet</u> breakdown a couple of years prior. The fans passion was heartfelt and Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> used to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">intensity</u>. He had become someone people <u style="font-weight: bold;">believed</u> they knew based on the character he was playing. Sam <u>knew</u> that was how it worked. He just needed to <u>adjust</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub7-xbsfM6GPxoHkwTx3wEGLjk7v2T5nE1QsCGYvHzYJZPMRN7Mi2mHF_ywwKL4Anrek03XW0xmVvT0cCwVDTfSoFTcS6N_hjZFsfFJa_kfW-mg_tlMbza53sQWbwy1kaOlq59YllOZuxfALZ_MC5wED6bgOl9qQbWGJk7tGt38o5zoOm3xoK-Lxmtw/s780/b25lY21zOmEwZGMzZDU1LWUxMmYtNDZkOC05OGMzLTA1NmM5ZTdiNDYyYzplYjA3MWUyNy0wMTQxLTQyMjctYTQxNS1mOWQ2NTg2MzI3MTM=.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="780" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub7-xbsfM6GPxoHkwTx3wEGLjk7v2T5nE1QsCGYvHzYJZPMRN7Mi2mHF_ywwKL4Anrek03XW0xmVvT0cCwVDTfSoFTcS6N_hjZFsfFJa_kfW-mg_tlMbza53sQWbwy1kaOlq59YllOZuxfALZ_MC5wED6bgOl9qQbWGJk7tGt38o5zoOm3xoK-Lxmtw/s320/b25lY21zOmEwZGMzZDU1LWUxMmYtNDZkOC05OGMzLTA1NmM5ZTdiNDYyYzplYjA3MWUyNy0wMTQxLTQyMjctYTQxNS1mOWQ2NTg2MzI3MTM=.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Out of the spotlight was where Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u>comfortable</u>. On stage/screen, Sam was <u>free</u> to become the character. He loved <u>both</u> sides of his life. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to find a way to balance the attention without turning his back on it. It was a whole new world. Sam is often how much of <u>him</u> is <u>in</u> his character of Jamie Fraser. <u>Honestly</u>? A <b><u>GREAT</u> </b>deal. Sam can <u>save</u> his emotions for Jamie and the cameras. When Sam thinks he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWS</u> Jamie from the <u>first </u>pages of the script, Sam is <u style="font-style: italic;">surprised</u> by Jamie's involvement. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to let Jamie take over and see where he ventured. At the end of the first season of the show, it had lead to a <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u>, bleak & <u style="font-weight: bold;">challenging</u> place.</div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5ufOJ6UJHtTdWFiyQcKAJRzoS2XVMfms6I0EDfaS3LqtFVckTWpyo-QhVGfjq9LmPQacbPEBv3-rIKnpI4TfeB3ZmEWxrt1ZTMl60UPH1CgUDv5j1byVM9Xn0P5T8t3QwBuj0wnikmVbDBgi5hCzW1k3kkUi7sAgmVKK6Qb_So2JXCCWY0pdNjubrQ/s1000/outlander-finale-postmortem.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="1000" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5ufOJ6UJHtTdWFiyQcKAJRzoS2XVMfms6I0EDfaS3LqtFVckTWpyo-QhVGfjq9LmPQacbPEBv3-rIKnpI4TfeB3ZmEWxrt1ZTMl60UPH1CgUDv5j1byVM9Xn0P5T8t3QwBuj0wnikmVbDBgi5hCzW1k3kkUi7sAgmVKK6Qb_So2JXCCWY0pdNjubrQ/s320/outlander-finale-postmortem.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Outlander</u> has <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> turned away from sexual violence. It is a reflection of the era in the story. It comes with a sense of responsibility. Case in point: Jamie's <u style="font-weight: bold;">brutal</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">rape</u> at the head of his nemesis, Jack Randall. The <u>focus</u> was on the consequences, but at the time, they felt like it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> to not shy away from the act <u>itself</u>. A clause in Sam's contract required him to film nude scenes. In the instance, Sam pushed back on the nudity within this scene to sexualize the <u style="font-weight: bold;">horror</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>of what Jamie undergoes. Eventually they <u>agreed</u> that Jamie should only be seen naked in the aftermath in a state of <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolute</u> defeat for evidentiary support. The closing scenes were <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredibly</u> challenging to film, even though, <u style="font-weight: bold;">thankfully</u> the nude shots ended on the cutting room floor. It was a harrowing experience. Sam spent hours in a state of undress, covered in fake <span style="color: red;">blood</span>; all for the scene in which Jack drives a nail through Jamie's hand to pin him to the table, and then Jamie's eventual rape. The cock shot did <u style="font-weight: bold;">betray</u> Sam's trust in the creative team due to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u> unnecessity of it all. As a result, Sam's always been keen to find ways in which they support & protect other actors <u style="font-weight: bold;">required</u> to place themselves in positions of great vulnerability. Good drama should <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> shy from any subject, but those portraying it should <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> feel protected. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOG8j5J_ntnlp6TOxGvMI9O3zn-KCM7AfaVBCC4O9gH_rtzD4XQm85Vkd6eyerkd16NbyCT2rNFhKFRUGNMMpRmKg6QDPtZpQxxHKAkZnN0rIBJ0B0cZcyXfQDaHw36WGy82tqaagDftjpxDXTs1bvoqb3Dfgmu06A-9IN4ArzvH4uqqHLTpwhiKgQiw/s251/download.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="201" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOG8j5J_ntnlp6TOxGvMI9O3zn-KCM7AfaVBCC4O9gH_rtzD4XQm85Vkd6eyerkd16NbyCT2rNFhKFRUGNMMpRmKg6QDPtZpQxxHKAkZnN0rIBJ0B0cZcyXfQDaHw36WGy82tqaagDftjpxDXTs1bvoqb3Dfgmu06A-9IN4ArzvH4uqqHLTpwhiKgQiw/w256-h320/download.jpeg" width="256" /></a></div><br />Shortly after wrapping the </span><u style="text-align: left;">first</u><span style="text-align: left;"> season of </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Outlander</u><span style="text-align: left;">, Sam landed another role. An independent film that took him </span><u style="text-align: left;">inside</u><span style="text-align: left;"> the Arctic circle. </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Heart Of Lightness</u><span style="text-align: left;">. The perpetual days transported the cast </span><u style="text-align: left;">as</u><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><u style="text-align: left;">much</u><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><u style="text-align: left;">as</u><span style="text-align: left;"> their characters from their everyday lives. Sam couldn't have been more removed from </span><u style="text-align: left;">both</u><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Outlander</u><span style="text-align: left;"> and the outside world. In some ways, it seemed like a sigh of relief for Sam. A </span><u style="text-align: left;">chance</u><span style="text-align: left;"> to </span><u style="text-align: left;">reset</u><span style="text-align: left;"> before Season 1 premiered in America. Sam </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">knew</u><span style="text-align: left;"> life would be different. He just had </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">no</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">idea</u><span style="text-align: left;"> how </span><u style="text-align: left;">transformative</u><span style="text-align: left;"> it would become. When the pilot premiered, it felt like a celebration. </span><u style="text-align: left;">Everyone</u><span style="text-align: left;"> involved, Sam included, was proud of what they created. The critical & commercial success just meant a means to be </span><u style="text-align: left;">built</u><span style="text-align: left;"> on </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Outlander</u><span style="text-align: left;"> quickly became Sam's </span><u style="text-align: left;">central</u><span style="text-align: left;"> part of his life. Looking back, Sam can </span><u style="text-align: left;">appreciate</u><span style="text-align: left;"> how it's shaped him both as an actor and as a person. In Jamie Fraser, Sam had found a role he could call his own. From where he starts to where his journey takes him, Sam </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">just</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">goes</u><span style="text-align: left;"> for it. By Season 3, Sam felt he was channeling </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Macbeth</u><span style="text-align: left;"> & </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Thesus</u><span style="text-align: left;"> rolled into one. To explore a role </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">so</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">deeply</u><span style="text-align: left;"> in a show with global appeal, it has been </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">nothing</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">but</u><span style="text-align: left;"> a </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">privilege</u><span style="text-align: left;">. Jamie has been the making of Sam as an actor. <u>Away</u> from the production, Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u> the same person as he was before. Sam took that call in the supermarket and startled the shoppers with his euphoric cry. What changed? The way people relate to Sam off-screen. <u>Unquestionably</u>, it's a <u style="font-weight: bold;">privilege</u> to meet fans and feel like he was part of a story that has brought <u>joy</u> to their lives. It's only a shame that conventions are where Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">feels</u> that love from the world-at-large. </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvuECw6r9bUuJh16HXIADXMZNd3FW7yeGWGo7mP2Nqf3lxldSW6S0TuBuvnPciPdMbjJfYSBbNe8GN1Xg5PX8zgBUibFQzWBBn-2ZJaB2BZSCaXEnJM77cf5VA75ChiCu1lM0DIxhPe1cP_AaUitcL48YLoBbQqT6zAeXj1SntIBkK247yET1ymJytw/s2880/p14988000_p_v12_as.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2880" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvuECw6r9bUuJh16HXIADXMZNd3FW7yeGWGo7mP2Nqf3lxldSW6S0TuBuvnPciPdMbjJfYSBbNe8GN1Xg5PX8zgBUibFQzWBBn-2ZJaB2BZSCaXEnJM77cf5VA75ChiCu1lM0DIxhPe1cP_AaUitcL48YLoBbQqT6zAeXj1SntIBkK247yET1ymJytw/s320/p14988000_p_v12_as.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Without a doubt, <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> to be a turning point in Sam's career. It's given him <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidence</u>, experience and <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">importantly</u> - opportunity. Starring in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> series like this can be all-consuming at times, but Sam has <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">strived</u> to retain his sense of independence. As an actor, Sam had pursued other projects that provide him with <u>fresh</u> challenges. Sam is drawn to roles that take him far from what other people <u>expect</u>. Sam could've <u style="font-weight: bold;">settled</u> with being stereotyped into one role. . .but he <b><u>wanted</u> <u>MORE</u>!</b> As the show found success, opportunities arose and Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> has been <u>committed</u> to exploring <u>new</u> paths. In the breaks of filming for 6 seasons of <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> with a 7TH to start <u style="font-weight: bold;">later</u>, Sam appeared in action comedies like <u style="font-style: italic;">The Spy Who Dumped Me</u> with Kate McKinnon & Mila Kunis. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">FUN</u> to make. It was a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thrill</u> to play the villain opposite to the hero in the film; <u style="font-style: italic;">Bloodshot</u> with Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">thoroughly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">enjoying</u> the action scenes. On stage on-screen, Sam just <u style="font-weight: bold;">lives</u> to explore what makes us human.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaTc0KW_Zo2UIQlBsyW0DVemv8UPZeqPRxlFWHH8TSvac789XZy3Ondu_6kvatuCdfqg2G2OiJQRbDjVJR24Ry_a1gEzGRK_ABkj6JNp4ctxrz-r8oVik6swcvnoAGb4RMApaZyubGSvzZHwI_Rnk3CGM0kzGxW1Qd6j20nwEGm_k94p4YX_ech6bBw/s1350/tumblr_pnqg1wA4ge1vu24nio1_1280.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLaTc0KW_Zo2UIQlBsyW0DVemv8UPZeqPRxlFWHH8TSvac789XZy3Ondu_6kvatuCdfqg2G2OiJQRbDjVJR24Ry_a1gEzGRK_ABkj6JNp4ctxrz-r8oVik6swcvnoAGb4RMApaZyubGSvzZHwI_Rnk3CGM0kzGxW1Qd6j20nwEGm_k94p4YX_ech6bBw/s320/tumblr_pnqg1wA4ge1vu24nio1_1280.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>Sam doesn't believe in restricting himself to <u>just</u> being an actor. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> years in the wilderness, Sam found opportunities and success. It's been <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> he's imagined. If he did nothing else with his life, Sam would still feel like something was missing. He is <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> looking for the next challenge on the horizon. Thus given rise to several projects <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u> from film/television; including one <u style="font-weight: bold;">dear</u> to Sam's heart that allows him to give something back. <u style="font-style: italic;">MyPeak Challenge</u> started out as a way for Sam to raise money for charity. In preparation to film <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u>, the producers paired Sam with a personal trainer and sent them to London to train for a few weeks. There, in breaks between punishing sessions, Sam began to assess his <u>personal</u> objectives & goals. If he's <u style="font-weight: bold;">honest</u>, Sam feels like his journey is nearing its end, and Sam wants to relish it for miles. What matters is that he could look back at each stage <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> they made the most of it. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFGxLDo8NQgvizSuGguzM81mV-wVZYby7RzuLG_uPAkxcZwFayF-dJcjz_dbh39D3TYpRr-8fJFWYoWrX_RLXGrWpUIPpVqbYY2A0SzkA4CzLuvjUBRCiqsZahIQ7FzbtYmMJNYeJ_-uVtCdLUfI6N12tVK1_3Luovbv0HIRIcsnqGmfzRAo1474BFw/s1200/0_Screenshot-2021-12-17-at-85319-AM.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFGxLDo8NQgvizSuGguzM81mV-wVZYby7RzuLG_uPAkxcZwFayF-dJcjz_dbh39D3TYpRr-8fJFWYoWrX_RLXGrWpUIPpVqbYY2A0SzkA4CzLuvjUBRCiqsZahIQ7FzbtYmMJNYeJ_-uVtCdLUfI6N12tVK1_3Luovbv0HIRIcsnqGmfzRAo1474BFw/s320/0_Screenshot-2021-12-17-at-85319-AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam and The Sassenach</td></tr></tbody></table>Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SERIOUS</u> about his Scottish whiskey. Sam can nerd out on tastings and talk about malts & distilleries with whomever will listen. Over time, Sam has acquired quite the collection. Scotch is the water of life. As Sam had a public profile by this time, they recognized that the <u>easiest</u> way would be to lend his name to a white-label brand. Sam could team with a drink company and mass market it. If they were going to launch a whisky business, it had to be on <u>their</u> <u>own</u> terms. The spirit would have to come <u style="font-weight: bold;">from</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">heart</u>. So, the next logical step in their quest was to take 2 weeks out of their work schedules and tour the <u>finest</u> distilleries Scotland had to offer. They sampled different blends throughout, and <u>gradually</u> began to refine the taste they had in mind. It was a fun & enriching experience. By the time they returned home, having met a master blender whom shared their vision, they found what they were seeking. A blend that reminded Sam of <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> he loved about Scotland, with a <u>unique</u> sweet finish. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Their whiskey <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> be called the <u style="font-style: italic;">Sassenach</u>. There could be <u>no</u> <u>other</u> name. In the summer of 2020, their whiskey launched in the U.S.A., following in the U.K. a year later. It has since picked up a slew of awards. When they found a distributor, Sam made it <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">clear</u> that their drink <u style="font-weight: bold;">isn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u> classified as a celebrity brand. Forging their own path along the way. Despite the time, energy & commitment; creating a tequila to stand alongside whiskey <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> felt like work. This was/is <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> side hustle for Sam. It's about <u>sharing</u> your <u>passion</u>. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Having set out on this journey <u>alone</u>, it feels right to <u>complete</u> it in company. Along the way, Sam has overcome obstacles in the landscape and demons of his own making. Sam has reflected on how he's arrived at <u>this</u> point in life and the friends he's made. Just before the first season of <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> went into production. Sam learned his father was dying. The call came from a stranger. At least a stranger to Sam. She informed him his dad has been living in Canada for many years and was now facing the end battle of cancer. As time was running out, this woman wanted to know if Sam & Cirdan would like to fly out and visit him. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> for Sam to take in during that 1 phone call; and add insult to injury, this woman added that she was in-fact his ex-wife. Not only did his dad remarry; Sam's father started a new life across the Atlantic.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCvrFUJt5eAkWuF2p3LAs4V9ab9JmSoWz2E34yvQHywYU5vVh6u_CSGFwtpaxsuJsFJpx5ya5ebxLD6tTE2kcU2m5xuSFOJTqkwn8BLWUn4tcayOJ_uq8W4G9lIBiHVEigsvE8_kg-EkDUc1NEEDL6JzR5spxgdBNdTdjnHNptyXC7_Y02N_zY93ufA/s736/99eec8efd0bea7660ee65341e341c23c.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="736" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCvrFUJt5eAkWuF2p3LAs4V9ab9JmSoWz2E34yvQHywYU5vVh6u_CSGFwtpaxsuJsFJpx5ya5ebxLD6tTE2kcU2m5xuSFOJTqkwn8BLWUn4tcayOJ_uq8W4G9lIBiHVEigsvE8_kg-EkDUc1NEEDL6JzR5spxgdBNdTdjnHNptyXC7_Y02N_zY93ufA/s320/99eec8efd0bea7660ee65341e341c23c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Given the time-strain running out for him, Sam <u>didn't</u> <u>give</u> <u>much</u> thought to reuniting. He had been absent from Sam's life for <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u> that Sam didn't even consider this man as someone missing from it. Cirdan <u>agreed</u> when answering this odd call was the <u>right</u> thing to do. And so at a time when Sam was preparing to play a character that would <u>transform</u> his career, Sam packed a bag for a part that was denied him since childhood. Sam & Cirdan lived their lives without a father. Thanks to the love, commitment & groundings from their mother, they grew into independent adults. So, in rushing to catch a fight to reunite with someone who should've <u style="font-weight: bold;">meant</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> <u>emotionally</u>; Sam couldn't help but feel like he needed to find himself in the process.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc6MqWpO603_BEUzby6FgtD2-FleFWPaaIn1mioLY2sklX0LgaLetAmOWwIoc2XkKAJPWhmAGt6B1_vX3lcfiEHHLfAwtH7ZjBOP7I_2Vy_vseGY3-5dgM46O4vclLNLAGReuoYE7vcslnGB6frT8eJFbw0GwWpygmKVFZBPLoru9yYNd33DOHtTiOgQ/s1200/b25lY21zOjAzNGQ3Nzc2LTE3NjktNGQ3MS1hNzM3LTI5YjgwOTJhYzAyYTpmYjNmMWYyZC1jNWJkLTQwMmEtYjhiZC05MmY5ZTk3Yzg4ZTE=.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1200" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc6MqWpO603_BEUzby6FgtD2-FleFWPaaIn1mioLY2sklX0LgaLetAmOWwIoc2XkKAJPWhmAGt6B1_vX3lcfiEHHLfAwtH7ZjBOP7I_2Vy_vseGY3-5dgM46O4vclLNLAGReuoYE7vcslnGB6frT8eJFbw0GwWpygmKVFZBPLoru9yYNd33DOHtTiOgQ/s320/b25lY21zOjAzNGQ3Nzc2LTE3NjktNGQ3MS1hNzM3LTI5YjgwOTJhYzAyYTpmYjNmMWYyZC1jNWJkLTQwMmEtYjhiZC05MmY5ZTk3Yzg4ZTE=.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam has always been content in his own company, and yet naturally he looks for love and companionship. He has invested in <u>several</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">meaningful</u> relationships in his life. In the past; when Sam met someone worthy enough, he used to go in with <u>100%</u> commitment. He didn't hold back. Sam adores the romance, and makes that particular person feel good. It's an amazing, heartfelt feeling when 2 people <u>connect</u> and create a <u>genuine</u> bond. Instead of being in the moment, wrapped up in happiness/bliss, Sam wonders if he <u>could</u> sustain it in time. Then, he factors in his work, which makes it hard for him to settle down, and question if it's right to lay a foundation of a relationship. Sam is <u>more</u> guarded & insecure. He hopes for simplicity once again. It doesn't <u>take</u> <u>much</u> for Sam to realize that perhaps he should apply the same approach to relationships. He is also <u style="font-weight: bold;">mindful</u> that he is the son of man who disappeared.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Having <u>committed</u> to setting down roots and starting a family, Sam's dad <u>chose</u> to leave the family, and the last thing Sam wanted to do was follow in his parental footsteps. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> he is <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> his father's son. There is a genetic component, but his father played <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">part</u> in shaping Sam's formative years. He had walked his <u>own</u> path in life, and intends for that to continue. Even though <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u>, Sam <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fears</u> he'll repeat the cycle. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As a result, Sam finds himself bailing from relationships due to things becoming <u>too</u> <u>good</u>. A <u>protective </u>mechanism due to not wanting to harm anyone else or himself for that matter. By looking ahead and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearing</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u>, Sam is <u style="font-weight: bold;">well</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> that he could be undermining his chances of sharing his life with someone special. As an actor, Sam is trained to <u>let</u> <u>go</u>. <u>Not</u> to think about the next step or the next line in a script. He also knows from experience that you can't run a marathon by <u style="font-weight: bold;">focusing</u> on reaching the finish line from the moment you start the race. One step at a time with mindfulness on the move, letting the process dictate the outcome. Having adapted the same outlook on this walk of life, and learned to be himself, perhaps Sam can <u>complete</u> the picture by just being <u>present</u> in his <u>personal</u> life. If Sam can lose himself in the here/now; the future will take care of itself. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sam & Cirdan arrived in <u style="font-style: italic;">Calgary Airport</u> feeling jet-lagged and apprehensive about what awaited them. Despite the fact that both of them felt uprooted from their lives to answer this call for compassion, it was for the Heughan brothers to travel <u>together</u>. On finding themselves thrown together this way, it felt like these brothers had each other. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">cemented</u> bonding experience despite the <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> & strange circumstances. When their dad's ex-wife met them in <u style="font-style: italic;">Arrival</u>'s, she turned out to be lovely. With driving time ahead of them, they rented a car and took turns behind the wheel. Sam & Cirdan simply did their level best to deliver the group to their destination in one-piece. Their dad's ex-wife was <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidant</u> in her directions; but the conversation <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> shifted from polite, formal talk. After 12 hours on the road, they arrived at their dad's cabin; just outside the city. That first visit was brief; cut shirt as their dad wasn't well enough to see the boys, but <b><u>proved</u></b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">momentous</u> for Sam & Cirdan.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The moment they stepped inside to find that their dad had been keeping track of their lives, it brought their dad alive in some way. It gave them time to gather their thoughts, and get some <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> sleep. They had been invited to stay nearby with a friend of their dad's. Everyone was very pleasant & welcoming, but it was hard to <i><u>relax</u></i>. Sam & Cirdan were given a shared room. It had a set of brick beds, which made the Heughan boys feel like kids again. They <u>enjoyed</u> their time; but they <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">forgot</u> they were on a mission to <u>internally</u> process the situation. A day after their first visit to the cabin, they <u>finally</u> had an audience with their dad. It felt like a <u style="font-weight: bold;">lifetime</u> had passed. On setting eyes on him in bed, he didn't seem so bad. They spoke for a while; but <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> was as <b><u>impactful</u></b> as their <u>first</u> moments at his cabin as Sam tried to assess who this man was in <u>his</u> environment. Everything had its place and told a story. In person, their dad was hard to read; his stare unsettled Sam and reduced him to feeling like a child once again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Their stay lasted only a week. In that <u style="font-weight: bold;">instance</u> & <u>intimate</u> time, their dad, David, felt well enough to visit/sight-see with them. They sat under a tree together and he told his sons about himself. He was humorous, a talented gardener and a champion of bodynamic farming. In the view of this man from the fringes of society as much as their lives. In the moments spent with their dad, Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">forgave</u> him for taking off, despite the pain he caused, but Sam still couldn't pin him down. From his time in Germany to his new life in British Columbia, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">struck</u> Sam that his dad was someone <u style="font-weight: bold;">constantly</u> drawn to see over the horizon. As his dad <u style="font-weight: bold;">barely</u> registered in his son's life and then chose to appear in it, Sam recorded <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> he had to say on his phone. Sam felt a means of capturing <u style="font-weight: bold;">something</u> of him, and perhaps when he listened to it again, it would become <u style="font-weight: bold;">even</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">meaningful</u> to him. Sam's dad passed away shortly after their return home. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cirdan and Sam had been <u>expecting</u> the news, but it wasn't just geographical distance that blunted their grief. Despite having his sons, they <u>barely</u> knew the man. Meanwhile, production for <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u> was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u> swing. Sam had <b><u>no</u> </b>life outside of this family of cast/crew, <u>simply</u> living out of a suitcase in a hotel room, or on-set or trailer. Sam would often misplace things in a <u>hectic</u> environment only for them to turn up in due time. So, when Sam lost his phone after filming on location one day; Sam just <u>assumed</u> it would surface. Sam <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">well</u> what was on it, which served to <u style="font-weight: bold;">intensify</u> his search. Sam asked around, but nobody had seen it. Sam couldn't halt production, so he <u style="font-weight: bold;">patiently</u> waited. His phone had vanished into thin air; and with it the <u style="font-weight: bold;">sole</u> recording of his father's account of his life. Sam had to tell himself that somehow in disappearance, it was a fitting epitaph.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLV61AzhrZiKs6GTzwGjDHmkw1TPLL8Yi8QLYUtdJg3bXY18qf0kg9tp_i3E7qmqoIuk_xUeFlCiam_9z1xKrwmf9qWEuDGbd40Rpnt2zWQ5bLZC0Nm7uqKl38bB7v062q8c4ZpoWq0Wu9fSLxJ15nNfAbrF7FAwyrkTKxvb54ctvZtJHBm9J0rX3hQ/s2048/811JhRXxroL._RI_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLV61AzhrZiKs6GTzwGjDHmkw1TPLL8Yi8QLYUtdJg3bXY18qf0kg9tp_i3E7qmqoIuk_xUeFlCiam_9z1xKrwmf9qWEuDGbd40Rpnt2zWQ5bLZC0Nm7uqKl38bB7v062q8c4ZpoWq0Wu9fSLxJ15nNfAbrF7FAwyrkTKxvb54ctvZtJHBm9J0rX3hQ/s320/811JhRXxroL._RI_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Alongside the succession of <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u>, Sam has had <u>success</u> with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">riveting</u> series on <u style="font-style: italic;">Starz</u>! called <u style="font-style: italic;">Men In Kilts</u>: <u style="font-style: italic;">A Road Trip With Sam & Graham</u>; which explores their Scottish homeland, delving into its <u>culture</u> and <u>history</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Since this book's publication, in 2023-24, it was announced that the journey of Jamie & Claire Fraser would be coming to an end with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">final</u> season of <u style="font-style: italic;">Outlander</u>. In the year(s) following this book's publication, Sam has had multiple irons in the fire with projects and notifications on the up/up. So,<u style="font-style: italic;"> stay tuned</u>. . . .!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXSN-nN2etViNBov0_QYqo9H_EbrWDlHzUMPsBPyAAKyhCmfgWsyfLFAPMF74Jueu_tZLIcZJQWoT51oe6xwTbuIy6MlGRrDo3NyVmQCLcqM3cVki-Y8_4cQbUr7Z5qbUlDe6cgcN4JfRDrYXcofBCnYAO7paenrc0ffniZ09FxztpuSUotKKWmtB7g/s1200/FA7CIM5WYAAPIYv.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1200" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXSN-nN2etViNBov0_QYqo9H_EbrWDlHzUMPsBPyAAKyhCmfgWsyfLFAPMF74Jueu_tZLIcZJQWoT51oe6xwTbuIy6MlGRrDo3NyVmQCLcqM3cVki-Y8_4cQbUr7Z5qbUlDe6cgcN4JfRDrYXcofBCnYAO7paenrc0ffniZ09FxztpuSUotKKWmtB7g/w400-h334/FA7CIM5WYAAPIYv.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-52488009989699374522022-12-31T21:00:00.001-08:002022-12-31T21:00:00.156-08:00End Of 2022<p> To Whom It May Concern:</p><p>For those who checked out, read and commented on my blog posts within this past year, I want to <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINELY</u> Thank You. While some stories were planned...others were a run-of-the-mill "<i>gem</i>" of a read. This year's reading's were ones that would've been more if life of the year didn't complicate matters themselves. It wasn't the books that took time, it was the time-frame in which to be able to read. The reason why books were so short this year were because of something I've lived through multiple times throughout my <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> life...the loss of a transplant that I mentioned in 2015...It wasn't the loss of the transplant that put me back on dialysis, I've <u style="font-weight: bold;">LIVED</u> that...but it was the time in which to read these books that plagued me. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>So, for those of you that checked in with this blog and commented...</p><p><br /></p><p>I want to <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THANK</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">YOU</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYONE</u> who read, checked out and commented on this blog...</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHND_-na0WezSJ85uKaHa_TA5SvCi3QqhavJR2rRz7MrpiPhBfs9BtUDN8-00JpazbH1ECTKuL3BmLLvdS6anRpwiCS95EyLXVnU3TtBYgxnoY_0FrSeIeeFXTjsBCFJ-tSl5oiYhmQEXa7R9f4y4lUnfqPfKd0IgZ3B3mnDLVktgYADROPndKYmNEg/s225/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHND_-na0WezSJ85uKaHa_TA5SvCi3QqhavJR2rRz7MrpiPhBfs9BtUDN8-00JpazbH1ECTKuL3BmLLvdS6anRpwiCS95EyLXVnU3TtBYgxnoY_0FrSeIeeFXTjsBCFJ-tSl5oiYhmQEXa7R9f4y4lUnfqPfKd0IgZ3B3mnDLVktgYADROPndKYmNEg/w400-h400/images.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-76101913527033842022-12-07T09:24:00.001-08:002022-12-08T20:55:26.972-08:00The Best Thing About My Ass Is That It's Behind Me. . .<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftvCBZu-NLT-KfBDHECqLx3UY1rZ7c-ck0-YRaaFP1wO-llhfzP2rmWXcRc8kBJuEleECVuJ2WrDLAj5yJbS4G-4TnUMeoNyQjXw28x7wf58p3IZMK0g9ng2aiKiHzeCdzTav8SrDL1YEmJ9bf26fH588pIpkGpR00y6nfIDYsCzXSAo6GJJHWznVKg/s500/book.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiftvCBZu-NLT-KfBDHECqLx3UY1rZ7c-ck0-YRaaFP1wO-llhfzP2rmWXcRc8kBJuEleECVuJ2WrDLAj5yJbS4G-4TnUMeoNyQjXw28x7wf58p3IZMK0g9ng2aiKiHzeCdzTav8SrDL1YEmJ9bf26fH588pIpkGpR00y6nfIDYsCzXSAo6GJJHWznVKg/s320/book.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>This next book was written by someone that is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">Bad</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Ass</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CLASSIC</u> Lady. While some may <u>forget</u> who she is and what she's done. . .I <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> did. That one friend you <u>didn't</u> <u>know</u> you <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEEDED</u>. Stories from <u>her</u> <u><b>own</b></u> life. <u>Owning</u> them and <u>moving</u> on. This is the story from learning the <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> way. In only a way she can, this is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> story of actress, comedienne and <u><b>ALL</b></u> <u><b>AROUND</b></u> Bad-Ass <u style="font-weight: bold;">ORIGINAL</u>; Lisa Ann Walter.<p></p><p>At the age of 8, Lisa Ann learned how <u>easy</u> it was to be/get duped and gyp'd. With the help of <u style="font-style: italic;">Easy-Bake Oven</u> and Skinny Bitch <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Barbie</i>; Lisa Ann adored the doll. She <u>presumed</u> that would be her when she was older. Lisa Ann <u>liked</u> her <u style="font-style: italic;">Barbie</u>; but she <u>loved</u> her <u style="font-style: italic;">Easy Bake Oven</u>. Those 2 toys would become the catalyst of her life. The <u style="font-style: italic;">Easy Bake</u> gave Lisa Ann the cooking bug. A lifelong foodie from there. That toy gave Lisa Ann the power to create what <u>she</u> wanted. By 13, Lisa Ann was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">control</u> for cooking <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> holiday family dinners. After her parents divorce and no one took an interest, Lisa Ann did at <u>13</u>. Working both sides of the aisle using recipes from <u>both</u> parents. We are all subjected to genetic dispositions. Lisa Ann being Italian! When love is food and food is love. Italians don't miss an opportunity to <u>connect</u> food with 3 things.</p><p>- Family</p><p>- Celebrations</p><p> - God</p><p>The <u>first</u> time Lisa Ann cooked for her Jewish former in-laws, she prepared for a <u>week</u> for the meal, They ate it in 20 minutes and Lisa Ann's ex-mother--n-law <u>jumped</u> <u>in</u> to begin cleaning in post-feast. Lisa Ann thought they hated it. Turns out it was accustomed to their <u>enjoyment</u>. Lisa Ann was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEW</u> and didn't know. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> used to it. You <u>cannot</u> fight a "<i>need to feed</i>". When Lisa Ann lost <u>40</u> LBS at the age of 13 and looked "<i>normal</i>", she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u> after the first course. Her grandmother, who is Sicilian, began crying. And the family force-fed Lisa to calm down her grandmother. Italian mothers are like food pushers. They get you <u style="font-weight: bold;">hooked</u> on the entryway dishes. You belong to the family. You'll want their food to rest in your life that high.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_WiJX3FcspCbobn9Xm_0q5Ugz0XBnw-TZP5k165u01xvqD3TEUmOq50OWUuiE4N95gV2-D26ZNSRh5MGmHLCMWTB8I_q25bdri9KEIOCmTC52XWhNekKZabOj3PB3xYaPixghnSfnDJb-9eggjE7RWruQhJJjiPfwX9mTBtdVuF-jili9vRS1R3e5Q/s406/mcdonalds-fries-medium_1-3-product-tile-desktop.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="325" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_WiJX3FcspCbobn9Xm_0q5Ugz0XBnw-TZP5k165u01xvqD3TEUmOq50OWUuiE4N95gV2-D26ZNSRh5MGmHLCMWTB8I_q25bdri9KEIOCmTC52XWhNekKZabOj3PB3xYaPixghnSfnDJb-9eggjE7RWruQhJJjiPfwX9mTBtdVuF-jili9vRS1R3e5Q/w160-h200/mcdonalds-fries-medium_1-3-product-tile-desktop.jpeg" width="160" /></a></div>All of the kids in the neighborhood were growing up without fathers due to divorce sweeping the nation. Overnight; men/fathers had a different perspective. Lisa Ann's mom had suffered a lot that year. Losing a mother to Leukemia, and losing her husband to abandonment 6 months later. On the night that Lisa Ann's dad lived at home, she and her sisters heard their mom scream something about killing herself and heard a scuffle. They make their way down a hill and to the kitchen in time to see a butcher knife high above herself; ready to plunge it into the heart. Then Lisa's dad knocked her down and the knife out of her hand. To say it was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrifying</u> is an <u style="font-weight: bold;">understatement</u>. He left that night to an apartment he <u>previously</u> rented. The next day he picked up Lisa Ann and her sister at school and took them to <u style="font-style: italic;">McDonald's</u> and bought them fries. And cried. <u>Both</u> were singular events in their lives. Picked up, middle of the day. . . by their dad. . .and he cried. The french fries were a bonus with what preceded them.<p></p><p>He then dropped Lisa Ann and her sisters off at home where their mom answered the door with <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">huge</b>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">puffy</u> eyes - one of them <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">black</b>. Lisa Ann <u>knew</u> the back-and-forth routine with her dad. Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he was leaving. Her mom thought it was only <u>temporary</u>; but Lisa <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">permanent</u>. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">9</u>. Her mom became <u>too</u> <u>damaged</u> to function for the next few years. Lisa's mom was <u>truly</u> down-on-her-luck. She didn't know how to <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">be</b> without a guy. Lisa Ann's mom was fucked over by men, yet didn't know how to live without one. As things got worse for her <u>emotionally</u>, Lisa's mom began to binge-drink. A few time she would wake the kids up in the middle of the night to sweep the <u>entirety</u> of their dresser tops on to the floor in a crash while <u style="font-weight: bold;">YELLING</u> of the cleanliness of the house and yank them out of bed to clean up the mess. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> the mom that Lisa Ann knew and loved. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> her mom was in trouble. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis72mKse-8Ru-r2Z1y90OcTeeY4cOkWtd1OGliDMogfZb8trzlU9YIRs7isQWPZ2yNINSzVqpb7Ewjmhr0fZAn3MH5h1Tcx2PWXXxBB3HA89LO8sO91rVwH4zuyIBjU1PaavWXlSp3SoHyIYptKbAYFu9misN9VK68p3MZpRIpPS-Rq1pTv6WujcH8Iw/s3840/cb.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis72mKse-8Ru-r2Z1y90OcTeeY4cOkWtd1OGliDMogfZb8trzlU9YIRs7isQWPZ2yNINSzVqpb7Ewjmhr0fZAn3MH5h1Tcx2PWXXxBB3HA89LO8sO91rVwH4zuyIBjU1PaavWXlSp3SoHyIYptKbAYFu9misN9VK68p3MZpRIpPS-Rq1pTv6WujcH8Iw/s320/cb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Life became hell in-of-itself for Lisa Ann due to a cycle of school and the playground and her <u style="font-weight: bold;">size</u> as a child. A home life where Lisa could run <u>free</u> from her mom and her own life's drama. After all, Lisa Ann and her sister had to <u>hear</u> <u>it</u> <u>enough</u>. They won't get <u>relief</u> from their mom's ranting when she goes out on dates. Lisa Ann was <u>raised</u> verbatim on the entire <u style="font-style: italic;">Carol Burnette</u> sketches. Lisa Ann was trained in comedy by these shows. Learning she could be funny, Lisa Ann thought she could stop or evade her mom's rages. So, in other words, a coping mechanism inspired by her career choice. The universe gives you stuff. . Not all in a pretty package. Lisa Ann's package was family and comic timing.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVogrqQdjmpB100r1XbN4posn9czsXEWmogbP0JhQCWB7qN-aKdfm_lNJ8kvsO7MtQaUm2noUxeBPvznuawvgckqxlilbTtjh1O8YYYoxJXZTTJzbw9H79Zj_Alm1i_0xsDix6R79W3OTuBfyc7gj9F0GXsIIrviufwaW5D7ojZBBNVsjbzM4q5HD41Q/s3840/ww.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVogrqQdjmpB100r1XbN4posn9czsXEWmogbP0JhQCWB7qN-aKdfm_lNJ8kvsO7MtQaUm2noUxeBPvznuawvgckqxlilbTtjh1O8YYYoxJXZTTJzbw9H79Zj_Alm1i_0xsDix6R79W3OTuBfyc7gj9F0GXsIIrviufwaW5D7ojZBBNVsjbzM4q5HD41Q/w200-h113/ww.png" width="200" /></a></div><br />Lisa Ann's dad first seen a problem with his daughter <u>at</u> <u>home</u>. He seen there was something wrong with the way she looked and took her to her <u>first</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Weight Watchers</u> meeting. Lisa Ann didn't notice at first, but it was <u>noticeably</u> <u><b>real</b></u> <u><b>quick</b></u> when she was out front of the place. It became <u>clear</u> that her dad <u>saw</u> something his little girl didn't. After <u>hundreds</u> of times of hearing from her mom, Lisa Ann finally put the <u style="font-style: italic;">WW</u> plan into motion. After hearing it from her dad, Lisa Ann learned she would <u>not</u> be the one who was left for size. Her dad took <u>Lisa</u> <u>Ann</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u> her sister, Laura. <u>Just</u> <u>Lisa</u> <u>Ann</u>. And paid special attention to her. She mentioned the attention from her dad as a <u>motive</u> to lose weight.He tried to help her due to being <u>in</u> <u>her</u> <u>shoes</u> at the <u>same</u> age/weight. It <u>wasn't</u> until she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">THERE</u> at the location of the <u style="font-style: italic;">WW</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOW</u> she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">seeing</u> why she was getting <u>special</u> <u>attention</u> from her dad in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">middle</u> of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">week</u>. Listening to her dance of songs in the car, he <u>could've</u> told her of appointments and lied. Lisa Ann would've been <u>cool</u>. So, she took the incentive of her father's love to lose weight. Give her <u>attention</u> just as she was funny. Or the attention her father gave his new wife. Get them and they are beautiful as well. Lisa Ann began to <u>truly</u> believe her mom was right. She could diet herself into her dad and other men wanted. And thus a comic is born! So, when they pulled into the parking lot onto the site of <u style="font-style: italic;">WW</u>, Lisa Ann's dad <u>trickingly</u> rushed her to a meeting and they left her there until it was over.<p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2IrnX4r4SSlxxpGNwt21ZbxVgfeIUT92D-ru40g41jg5XF9o3BZ-MmMvLVnV7Ntu9FPtJSNRdmH85wWgHaUUDqd2F128narBLAFe9E_Pwtuq5fel4NmhdTJwnlyA_5Gc-MhJhCWj0ennJ5yefBmAV6X-kyiPYon3r2yksj8HnqQ6lDQTHn_FHiw7QQ/s350/rhoda.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="350" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2IrnX4r4SSlxxpGNwt21ZbxVgfeIUT92D-ru40g41jg5XF9o3BZ-MmMvLVnV7Ntu9FPtJSNRdmH85wWgHaUUDqd2F128narBLAFe9E_Pwtuq5fel4NmhdTJwnlyA_5Gc-MhJhCWj0ennJ5yefBmAV6X-kyiPYon3r2yksj8HnqQ6lDQTHn_FHiw7QQ/w200-h200/rhoda.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Lisa Ann stuck to the meetings and information like glue. The following time Lisa stuck to it, she <u>lost</u> weight and <u>gained</u> <u>praise</u>. Lisa Ann's 12-yr-old brain swam in the successes of weight loss, the paternal attention. . .and now anonymous masses. It was Lisa Ann's first go at stand-up. She was able to have grown-up <u>approval</u>, laughing and applauding her. Lisa Ann felt like a pre-teen <u style="font-style: italic;">Rhoda Morganstern</u>. Still she <u>lost</u> weight. Lisa Ann lost <u>40</u> LBS. at <u style="font-style: italic;">Weight Watchers</u> in-between 7TH & 8TH grade. She came back with a pre-teen body and a whole lot of <u>male</u> attention. <div><br /></div><div>College is the place we begin to define ourselves. We stop being someone's child and start meaningfully being <u>responsible</u> for our own damage to ourselves. It's both liberating and <i><u>scary</u></i>. It's the birthplace of both freedoms . and bad habits. Lisa Ann went to <u style="font-weight: bold;">THE</u><b style="font-style: italic;"> </b><u style="font-style: italic;">Catholic University Of America</u>. A college she chose due to their drama department. . . or <u>so</u> <u>it</u> <u>said</u>. When Lisa Ann got there, females <u>outweighed</u> their counterparts. So, what did they learn? The <u>CLASSICS</u> from Greek-to-Shakespeare. What they <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> had in common were an <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">all</b> male cast. 20 pacts for men-to-every females. . .henceforth cross-dressing. Without the full occupancy of the acting thing, Lisa Ann had <u>plenty</u> <u>of</u> <u>time</u> to explore other locations. The Dining Hall where Lisa Ann and everyone else <u>indulged</u>. Suddenly, Lisa Ann's designer jeans were harder-to-zip. Moderation was never Lisa Ann's strong suit. She lived <u style="font-weight: bold;">excessively</u> in college. Then something happened. . . The on-set of what would become an eating disorder of bulimia. Notice how women are giving "<i>do/have-it-all</i>" speeches? But, not men? Pretending like fucktard guy's sexual fantasy just to please him is fucking stupid. College is to <u>free</u> <u>and</u> <u>young</u>; but don't be a fucktard to some dumbass guy.</div><div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaR8KyCkMmAHEQdlvAlbPpBLVxj84ZOUxuVFGknsAmVFng2dnVA9_mCCjlgXfCDOaNUImnrl1KXw-pFkdyn0ldnGV96g3jbIdCsk0xYa-gHcQbMVYuDh9DHqje6UFIB2f-fwCL5QoQ6Iy4kAXys51A9Lsvpdd_FnkU92tgZHsZQMK6aZ7RLih48wBSOw/s261/images.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="193" data-original-width="261" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaR8KyCkMmAHEQdlvAlbPpBLVxj84ZOUxuVFGknsAmVFng2dnVA9_mCCjlgXfCDOaNUImnrl1KXw-pFkdyn0ldnGV96g3jbIdCsk0xYa-gHcQbMVYuDh9DHqje6UFIB2f-fwCL5QoQ6Iy4kAXys51A9Lsvpdd_FnkU92tgZHsZQMK6aZ7RLih48wBSOw/s1600/images.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div>Lisa Ann met her <u>first</u> husband, Sam, during a stage production of <u style="font-style: italic;">A Streetcar Named Desire</u> after graduating college. Sam was Stanley and Lisa Ann was Stella. There were no expectations to/outside the play. From waiting tables on Cape Cod and living together, then moving to Jersey so they could both "<i>make it</i>" in New York City. What happens in time happens . . .Lisa is pregnant. Lisa Ann had to <u>grow</u> <u>up</u> <u><b>quick</b></u>. The whole process was a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shock</u>. You can prep <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">you</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> during your pregnancy. . .until <u>it's</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u><span style="font-weight: bold;">!</span> Lisa Ann was <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredibly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u>. . . with <u style="font-style: italic;">Demerol</u> as a helper. Lisa Ann was poor, married, and a mom within a year of becoming an adult. They moved from a studio-ish apartment in downtown Jersey City with a rooftop and a lanai view of the Hudson River to the suburb of Summit, New Jersey.<p></p><p>Lisa Ann spent the days pushing her baby, Jordan, is his stroller up to "<i>town</i>" being a mom and running errands. . . <b><u>bossing</u> <u>up</u>!</b> post C-Section.. Lisa Ann was coming home from running errands, getting out of breath going up hills due to the anesthesia; Lisa Ann's stomach <b><u>HURT</u>!</b> She was still 2 blocks from home. She was <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">huffing</b>/<u style="font-weight: bold;">puffing</u> when she was <u>vehicularly</u> <u>verbally</u> assaulted and laughed at. It took Lisa Ann awhile for her brain to catch up to what happened. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hBeTyXLXvIAb37TbDOMn7CUI9RS-3tvdWZ9Z9fEYib9ujltYeWYpQhjMbhCktCshXaIrRfab2yOjvtEMovMXmOKc-bE-i2nrg-_WlyFF9vo83bn42v8YfWEixVjWHnaRp_7Ru8imBKZc7hrpsfQ6ug9598-LtWHIUKBgoP-R1rOGReLBxKq7Z6ze3g/s1000/MV5BZDg1YmU1NjYtMzg1ZC00MjYxLTgyNDAtYzgwOTY3N2Q3OTE0L2ltYWdlL2ltYWdlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDkwNTkwNg@@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="770" data-original-width="1000" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hBeTyXLXvIAb37TbDOMn7CUI9RS-3tvdWZ9Z9fEYib9ujltYeWYpQhjMbhCktCshXaIrRfab2yOjvtEMovMXmOKc-bE-i2nrg-_WlyFF9vo83bn42v8YfWEixVjWHnaRp_7Ru8imBKZc7hrpsfQ6ug9598-LtWHIUKBgoP-R1rOGReLBxKq7Z6ze3g/s320/MV5BZDg1YmU1NjYtMzg1ZC00MjYxLTgyNDAtYzgwOTY3N2Q3OTE0L2ltYWdlL2ltYWdlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDkwNTkwNg@@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lisa Ann was stop-tracked, <span style="color: red;">red</span>-faced and stunned. She had gotten used to using overtly sexuality, humor, and bravado to mask hurt. She spent years comparing her worth to <u>avoid</u> nasty judgment by staving herself into contemptment. <b><i>What do they say differs from what I say about myself</i>?</b> College crowds were never Lisa Ann's favorite due to their <u>stupidity</u> and they're <u>spoiled</u>. Lisa Ann had to grow up quick and college kids are assholes. A career that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">launched</u> with a <u style="font-style: italic;">Showtime At The Apollo</u> gig <u>6</u> months after her first gig where she turned a "BOOED" around upside down with a <u>humorous</u> smart-ass remark. She <u>only</u> used <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> heckling infractions as a rule for a <u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u> resort. You can only take <u><b>so</b></u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> until it <u>blows</u> <u>up</u>! A release of <u>pent</u>-<u>up</u> responses to humiliation from <u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u> of teasing, mean-spirited criticism disguised as good-natured ribbing. Not regretting it one bit was the start of the groundswell movement.<p></p></div><div>Lisa Ann and Sam would wait tables well into her stand-up career. Trading off parental shifts and jobs. They did this until they could afford <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> to. No big deal. Working 3 jobs; plus a show was what she had done since she was 16. So life continued to run with errands, waitressing, nursing, self-loathing, cancer-stagnant - an endless run for 6 months or so. Lisa Ann "<i>happened</i>" to read by reaching the top shelf to the back closet and rifled through boxes 'til she found why she loved him <u>MORE</u> than he loved her in his journal. While her ex was <u>thrilled</u> to be a dad; Life among himself was <u style="font-weight: bold;">struggling</u> with his own sexual identity. Which Lisa Ann <u>promptly</u> confronted him with and he <u>utterly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">denied</u>. A <u>decent</u> marriage for a bit of years<u>,</u> although it was <u>obvious</u> that he had loved their children <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u> condition or restraint - Lisa Ann felt less like a mate and more of a mother. Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">HATES</u> being the boss in the relationship. This <u>wasn't</u> even Lisa Ann's first foray into gay. She lost her virginity to a man who turned out to be gay, but didn't know it at the time. . .neither did he. Lisa Ann was 17 and just <u>didn't</u> understand.</div><div><br /></div><div>Even with the loss of a <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> guy that Lisa Ann lost her virginity to, she is <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">supportive</u> of the same guy and is still <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> friends with. Lisa Ann fell in love with her <u>first</u> husband in the parking lot of the theater one night of rehearsals for <u style="font-style: italic;">Streetcar</u>. Lisa Ann was way smitten and thought he was talented, cute & sexy. They had great road trips up/down the East Coast and started a family much, much earlier than others. If it wasn't for Sam, Lisa Ann wouldn't have a career. He believed in her and pushed her when she didn't believe in herself and became her manager. Lisa Ann was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> angry at her ex. She could <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> integrate what she read in his journal to how she <u>partly</u> felt loved by him. It was becoming <u>sensically</u> clear. She <u>wasn't</u> angry. . .how could she be?</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoa0ngQHbxlmDni5VJ37vKZ61VJ_Z6g0SNE3lvuXFVH_7tPQazYVYMh5DrbTgod28kJw1ClbxWXylfIZRyJsyzHIDyuiG8PWgr-Tze3ZqYvwhz-TgZ25m3wucBDF11SxnhnBMbO7YL2KgK7nbLmB7XL66iXIK40ZXG85-YBhFp0ewDeFyAswrw3m5Q0A/s475/eddie.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="475" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoa0ngQHbxlmDni5VJ37vKZ61VJ_Z6g0SNE3lvuXFVH_7tPQazYVYMh5DrbTgod28kJw1ClbxWXylfIZRyJsyzHIDyuiG8PWgr-Tze3ZqYvwhz-TgZ25m3wucBDF11SxnhnBMbO7YL2KgK7nbLmB7XL66iXIK40ZXG85-YBhFp0ewDeFyAswrw3m5Q0A/s320/eddie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lisa Ann stayed with Sam for a long time after he came out to her. She <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> the mental welfare of her kids repeating the parental pattern with Lisa Ann being a child of divorce. She finally moved out after 2 years of separate sleeping quarters. Because Whoopi Goldberg said she should. That's <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> a bullshit lie. They did Lisa Ann's first big studio movie together - <u style="font-style: italic;">Eddie</u> and got to know one another and their lives on/off the screen together. Whoopi was <u>straight</u> <u>up</u> with Lisa and told her the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>, Lisa Ann took what Whoopi said at <u>face</u> <u>value</u> and moved out. Whoopi nursed her back from the last heartbreak. Lisa Ann called her, crying <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">hysterically</u>. Whoopi told Lisa Ann to drive <u>straight</u> to her. She did. Whoopi fed her. They went to a spinning class and listened to Whitney Houston's <u style="font-style: italic;">It's Not Right...But It's Okay</u>. Lisa Ann would be <u>that</u> friend for Whoopi to help bury a body. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lisa Ann had a great time being a mom actually. They were the only couple with a child. She had nothing to compare it to. She and her kids were fun for everyone and she took them everywhere. They included the kids and it enhanced the fun. She would take Jordan into the city and meet Sam in the city and the 3 of them would take a showcase production one of their friends in and watch it with the baby right there with them. Jordan wasn't a noisemaker. He was pretty convenient. They can also run/jump for you when the next one comes. One thing is that <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MATTER</u> how good you are as a parent; you fail somewhere. Even though you love the fuck out of your kids, they don't come with a snooze button. Lisa Ann <u>raised</u> her kids and didn't let the spoils of L.A.ruin them. Lisa Ann didn't know of a "<i>push present</i>" until a girlfriend of hers informed her that something like that existed. She then looks at Sam, in a pissed off way...Where's Mine?</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vCb-vrmjM0pNRCur6lMmd_JtPf0CGjEnJUAbtAMn2Rg8RDz13BHoFfZVJO46Be3Iw3JxM1H4jkWyIiZXbfaKIaf3VCE_aqhCovmdgDkR57McTNArR4SML9X4A14cMyke4sfYXWiN6ALtTmDhz5eR8grUJ6JScYNjm3PG6syAgBYry32dMo3KxP8eQw/s600/OIP-1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="600" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3vCb-vrmjM0pNRCur6lMmd_JtPf0CGjEnJUAbtAMn2Rg8RDz13BHoFfZVJO46Be3Iw3JxM1H4jkWyIiZXbfaKIaf3VCE_aqhCovmdgDkR57McTNArR4SML9X4A14cMyke4sfYXWiN6ALtTmDhz5eR8grUJ6JScYNjm3PG6syAgBYry32dMo3KxP8eQw/s320/OIP-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lisa Ann can handle shit in the morning. She can handle and be the <u>best</u> little suburban <u>mom</u> in the <u>morning</u>. At <u>dinnertime</u>, it's a <b><u>whole</u> '<u>nother</u> </b> story. Angels in the day. . .devils in the evening. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> ever tells you of the half-ass shit it takes from all activity to another to have it <u>all</u> done. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">don't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> you of the nitty-gritty shit-climbing stuff you do for your kids' happiness. Every time you let one of your children down, your heart dies. Because the <u>main</u> thing that you're not prepped for is how <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> you <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">fucking</i> love them. The <u>minute</u> she held Jordan, it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> worth it. From the moment Lisa Ann sang <u style="font-style: italic;">The Beatles</u>' <u style="font-style: italic;">Blackbird</u> to him. . Lisa Ann found out how much she could feel. You're <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> prepared for how much you love them. Lots of <u style="font-style: italic;">fun</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">surprises</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, Lisa Ann has <u>4</u> kids. She had 2 with the first husband. Now, you even out the score to prevent jealousy among exes. (<i>Men Math</i>!) The twins are like the energy of 10x. They're <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">nuts</i>. In payback, if you're going to embarrass your kids in public any/at all, go <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u>. As parents, as our children get older, it's part of our jobs to just embarrass the shit out of them. Lisa Ann is not just a mother. She's an SUV hair blowing in the wind-music with kids blaring out the window kind of mom. Unbeknownst to Lisa, you're not allowed to dance in front of your teenage children. <u>Especially</u>, if their friends come over.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYBi8OfY7TdR_u_iIpUBUBCSFJxFb9POrSTbgKFAsj8XQaIILCPA9bN9LWGznMtZQuloS2LmSZwvya_Z-Nas7mVHfgrSKHwCN4Kw7Ky8LnL3yZMRDn2qkmKIYXz8700BBquiSRO0-7uvTlqNxHAx4gVHOAm_qboDeR4zpI05D6jqd8cKp7C36lk7rXg/s2400/pryorfinalfrid.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="2400" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYBi8OfY7TdR_u_iIpUBUBCSFJxFb9POrSTbgKFAsj8XQaIILCPA9bN9LWGznMtZQuloS2LmSZwvya_Z-Nas7mVHfgrSKHwCN4Kw7Ky8LnL3yZMRDn2qkmKIYXz8700BBquiSRO0-7uvTlqNxHAx4gVHOAm_qboDeR4zpI05D6jqd8cKp7C36lk7rXg/s320/pryorfinalfrid.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When Lisa Ann was a kid, she was <u>never</u> thrown a bone for being funny. It got her in trouble a lot. Lisa Ann <u>memorized</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">line</u> of "<i>blue</i>" comedy albums by <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ICONS</u> from George Carlin and Richard Pryor. Lisa Ann would repeat the <u style="font-weight: bold;">filthiest</u> parts to her mom and the divorce and her mom's resignation from Catholicism. By the time Lisa Ann got to high school, it was <u>apparent</u> that <u style="font-style: italic;">funny</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">meant</u> "<i>laughing like dumbass girl for a guy</i>". So, every morning before school, while <u>sneakingly</u> hiding her trampy shirts under school clothes from her mother, whom was known to claim some of her daughter's clothes from trips to the laundry. Finally, Lisa Ann was <u>wise</u> enough to hand wash her "<i>delicates</i>". She would <u style="font-weight: bold;">try</u> to act the part she wanted to pull off but would blow it by a <u>2ND</u> period.</div><div><br /></div><div>After moving to New York for stage work, Lisa Ann <u>learned</u> that casting directors generally don't come to your apartment and <u>invite</u> you to have an acting career. Since she was <u>convinced</u> that she'd <b><u>never</u></b> get a job through auditioning until losing 20LBS. . .which <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> happened. . .Lisa Ann was talked into trying stand-up comedy by some of her best friends from college. Given Lisa Ann's talent for being <u>loved</u> and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">obnoxious</u> would be brilliant! Since she already gave birth before, stand-up comedy would be easy. Lisa Ann's friends' set her up with a performance date and Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">could</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> backout/cancel. Her friend went with her <u>first</u> open mic and <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> her to get her ass onstage. There was <u>no</u> <u>one</u> to make Lisa Ann say/do anything that she didn't say to herself or wasn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">already</u> said. That way, you can improve by putting yourself in the act. Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">got</u> noticed. It got her tons of work. She went from a 6-minute set from writing material and performing it at house parties for the better part of a year to performing around Manhattan. The first <u>6</u> minutes became 22 minutes because Lisa Ann <u>killed</u> it. Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> she was <u>truly</u> gifted and good at it. She was in the middle of sets between people within 4 months and a national spotlight on <i><u>Showtime At The Apollo</u>. </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">enjoyed</u> making people laugh. She is <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b>smart and picked up how to work a set, where to add tags, crafty callbacks. . .the mile of 3 in comedy law! She dressed as she would <u>normally</u> dress, and Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">rocked</u> it. She was different because what a guy decked out. . .she gave back <u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">them</u>. (<i>Just being one of the guys</i>.) The <u style="font-weight: bold;">bullshit</u> she received by men <u>fueled</u> her comedy. While Lisa Ann was a guy's gal, it sucks to get hit on by men who think it's complimentary to be an asshole. It's <u>more</u> funny when you can turn the crowd on the asshole. Men see themselves as the <u>ONLY</u> judges who dictate what's funny. What do Men know? They're fucking moron idiots.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Lisa Ann was working at the clubs, <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> what she did, there was <u>no</u> foot in the door. . .even though a woman was there in company, Sherry Lansing. The stories that they tired and <u>worn</u> <u>out</u>. Funny? <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u>! Lisa Ann continued to be her brand of funny. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> traded sex for comedy. She was <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">already</b> rebooked.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgPkcxsLRAKVixvNxN17W_PAPfjjzlYd7Ll-sWEVHh4Y9BNgM7p85cchhu4mhXp8x8wBkRD4pstYp_YbINNAnNgYEUE1tGX6a8SjPNBhgTMUkfwWlujrF2xEcn45sG8Zl5p1gdzAQlDCk4-ZOW1K6ktjDSY_IxKZHuF_zmMPuiHDGcbJd_k2iFPbUaA/s531/a900c769d2fc352e_ys_leahr_800x1000.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="425" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgPkcxsLRAKVixvNxN17W_PAPfjjzlYd7Ll-sWEVHh4Y9BNgM7p85cchhu4mhXp8x8wBkRD4pstYp_YbINNAnNgYEUE1tGX6a8SjPNBhgTMUkfwWlujrF2xEcn45sG8Zl5p1gdzAQlDCk4-ZOW1K6ktjDSY_IxKZHuF_zmMPuiHDGcbJd_k2iFPbUaA/s320/a900c769d2fc352e_ys_leahr_800x1000.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>Lisa Ann's career has become one to <u style="font-weight: bold;">remember</u>. She tends to connect the <u style="font-weight: bold;">memorable</u> moments of her career with the friends she's made, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">kept</u> during that particular film. Some jobs wanted Lisa Ann to be of a certain weight. . .Whether it's up/down. Lisa Ann's <u>very</u> <u>first</u> job came as a result of a few stand-ups that had TV shows built around their "<i>voice</i>". Since the basis of Lisa Ann's act as the basis of her life - that of a harried and stressed working mother who balanced career, family, relationships - Lisa Ann was tapping and reflecting multiple women in America. Women like Lisa Ann and Leah Marie Remini that are a <u style="font-weight: bold;">RELATABLE</u> girlfriend. Lisa Ann remembers when the <u>gifted</u> and good friend Margaret Cho were in talks of an <u style="font-style: italic;">ABC</u> pilot; but had to back out due to the network wanting to change her image. Why would networks change what they want? Why call you if you're not right for <u>your</u> image? But, in the meantime, lots of attention and money were being thrown at Lisa Ann for being cute. Lisa Ann got her first in a series of trainers who got fresh - some doughnuts to the point of molestation. Lisa Ann doesn't have a great track record with trainers and she'll just stick to dancing or something more rhythmic anyway. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Lisa Ann did her <u>first</u> feature film in the Whoopi Goldberg basketball movie; <u style="font-style: italic;">Eddie</u>; she was the funny over-the-top slutty friend. Lisa Ann didn't care for the role she had. The part was similar to the fat, funny friend. As long as Whoopi was there with her with her Whoopi way. From this film, Lisa Ann shared stories from those whom would have an effect on her.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQdItqw3aPNU8Vix1v6nPlZ-LASU4HisLb2fTEyCHdeMTlkAzToXBa56A0ub_0nU7UEJ9ykvcNKC1_W31NOy93iAutRYpDGSvi7irudxeOYceXM-Fk7e4K9zq8k2njwFK5yyg-lOxNBwAChXW9TL6dgtHZUlary94uzS0A8teS0E8Xy_YU9vay9cY9w/s1600/MV5BYzdiNTNhYzgtMDcyYi00ZDViLTg1NTctNjQ2M2YyZTg1YjY4XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTEwODg2MDY@._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1169" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQdItqw3aPNU8Vix1v6nPlZ-LASU4HisLb2fTEyCHdeMTlkAzToXBa56A0ub_0nU7UEJ9ykvcNKC1_W31NOy93iAutRYpDGSvi7irudxeOYceXM-Fk7e4K9zq8k2njwFK5yyg-lOxNBwAChXW9TL6dgtHZUlary94uzS0A8teS0E8Xy_YU9vay9cY9w/s320/MV5BYzdiNTNhYzgtMDcyYi00ZDViLTg1NTctNjQ2M2YyZTg1YjY4XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTEwODg2MDY@._V1_.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>From that, it led to, <i>what <u>I</u> <u>personally</u> will and <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">love</u> Lisa Ann for</i>, the <u style="font-style: italic;">ABC</u> short-lived sitcom <u style="font-style: italic;">Life's Work</u>, which ran for <u style="font-weight: bold;">1</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">pretty</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">damn</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">good</u> season. It followed <u style="font-style: italic;">Roseanne</u> during her <u>final</u> season in the 90s. With <u style="font-style: italic;">Roseanne</u> in the lead, it was what <u>inspired</u> Lisa Ann to do that type of program. They had <u>great</u> ratings. #1 in their time slot. Especially since she had her co-creator, Warren Bell. This was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">painful</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> time for Lisa Ann. This was the <u>year</u> that her husband <u>came</u> <u>out</u> <u>of</u> <u>the</u> <u>closet</u> to her. With the whirlwind of what happened, Lisa Ann's <u style="font-weight: bold;">LIFE</u> drama surrounded her experience with success. She sabotaged herself with excessive drinking. Lisa Ann was self-medicating her <u style="font-style: italic;">fears</u> - and what they would do with production TV <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u> in those days. So <u>surely</u>, Lisa Ann was <u>not</u> operating at her high-best level. And <u>now</u>, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">regrets</u> not getting to <u>enjoy</u> the experience as she should. It was during the production of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Parent Trap</u> that Lisa Ann had just quit drinking a few months prior and discovered <u style="font-style: italic;">Marie Callender</u> pies.</div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulBTbqeatK9cP3xB4-1XUCzmwtEvbUWPheMKMOWmFal5KO5mWbh8Z9CGXQQ7P-HlF0zy-S3EDwNF3oVTIUauYnZnt-yrZd_C9MgnKg5EERFsHgzTYKaY12_duzQiMnfSQhDS6wBix3XH8VY0ZHZ6zQbTYAECN8UN9l3X653tFm_eZCG6X9xgzaj2BuA/s1500/MV5BNWYyMzJhNzEtMzFkNC00M2U0LTkwMWYtYWVkN2Y2MGI5ODZkL2ltYWdlL2ltYWdlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTQxNzMzNDI@._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1011" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulBTbqeatK9cP3xB4-1XUCzmwtEvbUWPheMKMOWmFal5KO5mWbh8Z9CGXQQ7P-HlF0zy-S3EDwNF3oVTIUauYnZnt-yrZd_C9MgnKg5EERFsHgzTYKaY12_duzQiMnfSQhDS6wBix3XH8VY0ZHZ6zQbTYAECN8UN9l3X653tFm_eZCG6X9xgzaj2BuA/w216-h320/MV5BNWYyMzJhNzEtMzFkNC00M2U0LTkwMWYtYWVkN2Y2MGI5ODZkL2ltYWdlL2ltYWdlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTQxNzMzNDI@._V1_.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>The Parent Trap</u> is probably the character, Chessie, and the movie that Lisa Ann is <u>BEST</u> <u>KNOWN</u> for. (<i>Although I </i><u style="font-style: italic;">personally</u><i> have </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">loved</u><i> Lisa Ann since </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Life's Work</u>.) <u style="font-style: italic;">The Parent Trap</u>. She is <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> for that movie. Elaine Hendrix, whom played the mean girlfriend, Meredith, sparked what would become a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">lifelong</u> friendship. She is still friends with Simon Kuntz, whom played Martin the butler, whom is still a good friend. Natasha Richardson was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CLASSIC</u> of a <u>LADY</u>! Dennis Quaid was <u>TRULY</u> loving and supportive. Nancy Myers was a <u>TRULY</u> <u>GREAT</u> director. Lisa Ann was <b><u>convinced</u></b> she lost her lust for comedic chops. Dennis came over to her armchair. Lisa Ann was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ASSURED</u> that she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u> with a <u>great</u> <u>positive</u> talk/outlook. There would be times when Lisa Ann would just feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">HORRIBLE</u> about herself and life in general. From where she is to where she was was an <u style="font-weight: bold;">exhausting</u> road and it showed.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4KayTAvRo0xnEcRHMRI1M9bNDv8p87LfbWoJE-vzRJn-EAMVAwH-I7eo_7jJ-j5NsbaQeUFj90bB24J81f5e08HhvvIhz6M6uxX1eiAoJeY_oHyvzAhTQvPFLmYOf5qbQN5cPnHdEAwCthAq-LXi_fbAxzxUXZV0MqBpQM7bQQMo6vnFormucZsPj3w/s810/eddie-poster.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="810" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4KayTAvRo0xnEcRHMRI1M9bNDv8p87LfbWoJE-vzRJn-EAMVAwH-I7eo_7jJ-j5NsbaQeUFj90bB24J81f5e08HhvvIhz6M6uxX1eiAoJeY_oHyvzAhTQvPFLmYOf5qbQN5cPnHdEAwCthAq-LXi_fbAxzxUXZV0MqBpQM7bQQMo6vnFormucZsPj3w/s320/eddie-poster.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lisa Ann wound up feeling a lot <u>happier</u> in this wardrobe than any production <u>at</u> <u>this</u> <u>point</u>. Lisa wanted to write Whoopi and tell her that she was <u>right</u> about the <u style="font-style: italic;">Birkenstocks</u>. They were <u>freeing</u>. It was <u>truly</u> <u>freeing</u> to dress and be comfy <u>without</u> trying to overcompensate. But, getting to <u>that</u> point <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> easy. One day when Lisa Ann was tired in her trailer at 7:00A, she was getting bitched at by production. Lisa Ann was staring at herself in her makeup mirror, teary-eyed and self-loathing. Dennis Farina had come up behind her. Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> it. Unbeknownst to her, Dennis was <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">aware</u> of Lisa Ann's state of being. He put his arms around from behind, looked over her shoulder into the mirror in front of them and gave her the <u style="font-weight: bold;">MOST</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">COMFORTING</u> words Lisa Ann could hear in <u>that</u> moment right then. You have <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> what Dennis did/said that <u>completely</u> <u>lifted</u> her spirits up. Lisa Ann would catch a charge and kill for that man, Dennis. The cast and executives behind the show were one of the <u>most</u> loving, supportive and fun groups she <u>ever</u> had the pleasure of working with. Not only did Lisa Ann work with a good friend, Sherri Shepard, everyone else became like family. From the top - Linda Bloodworth-Thompson and her husband, Harry - down to the staff of actors.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRq3SYwtdn0fmSJtFcvvE76ruJdPDgxNNpNjuGBSZSK5OMMVcWvAD_19DZRts0TAy3K3qs1E9tf2zlFBAcNvokvQSPTylHu3MNmNwfxTOELBCpjU3QiALEx_tAc3V5MD1ZTm6KO0xzxDu39n3Udkest4XdkpziaLn3CzCVle4nNwrS2t-2yq2-Z7d24g/s482/Dance_Off_Your_Ass.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="482" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRq3SYwtdn0fmSJtFcvvE76ruJdPDgxNNpNjuGBSZSK5OMMVcWvAD_19DZRts0TAy3K3qs1E9tf2zlFBAcNvokvQSPTylHu3MNmNwfxTOELBCpjU3QiALEx_tAc3V5MD1ZTm6KO0xzxDu39n3Udkest4XdkpziaLn3CzCVle4nNwrS2t-2yq2-Z7d24g/s320/Dance_Off_Your_Ass.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Sherri and Lisa Ann go <u style="font-weight: bold;">WAY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">BACK</u>. She first met Sherri when Lisa Ann was the MC for a big gala show for a charity event. It was Lisa's 3RD year. She loved going and had a bunch of friends there. It was <u>there</u> that Lisa Ann met her 2ND husband; the twins' dad. The man who was behind the "<i>perfect storm</i>" that <u style="font-weight: bold;">ULTIMATELY</u> led to Lisa Ann having had <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENOUGH</u>. <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">That</b> was the catalyst behind <u style="font-style: italic;">Dance Your Ass Off</u>. So, give your thanks to him! Lisa Ann <u>wasn't</u> born a bitch. Men have made her this way. . .so <u><i><b>fuck</b></i></u> <b><u><i>them</i></u></b>! Lisa Ann hosted the event, showcasing <u>unknown</u> comics at the time. Sherri Shepard being one of them and <u>full</u> of sass, lighthearted and self-depricating humor. Lisa Ann <u>advised</u> her <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>. They continued their friendship throughout the years; talking on the phone and seeing each other at comedy gigs. Lisa Ann has had the <u>great</u> fortune of working with the <u><b>BEST</b></u> that had<b><u> GREAT</u></b> attitudes.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnx5_ez1UU8IM-II4LpaDoqWjxcxmgE2hjM6Zu1fEEJKanvcptX0KXK-ZMaOhYrcYXa-LQp8Cto3tXA4j0l461rLoZtm1n1JjtkKChf4GxWpykrWT78sOdptAyngKFHgjkkx-dmBwfGrVgGjC3IZd3wigTbh0BhrrVrIoFwREAYSpMEC34fr1ccbopOA/s720/MV5BMzJiOWQxNDYtN2NiMy00YmFjLWJmN2MtMGNkMmU3YTcxM2MwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTEwODg2MDY@._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="720" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnx5_ez1UU8IM-II4LpaDoqWjxcxmgE2hjM6Zu1fEEJKanvcptX0KXK-ZMaOhYrcYXa-LQp8Cto3tXA4j0l461rLoZtm1n1JjtkKChf4GxWpykrWT78sOdptAyngKFHgjkkx-dmBwfGrVgGjC3IZd3wigTbh0BhrrVrIoFwREAYSpMEC34fr1ccbopOA/s320/MV5BMzJiOWQxNDYtN2NiMy00YmFjLWJmN2MtMGNkMmU3YTcxM2MwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTEwODg2MDY@._V1_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lisa Ann knew what she <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to do to <u>healthfully</u> take care of herself. She just <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">do</u> it. She was being a blowhard about it. Sherri would ask Lisa Ann of her weight regiment. She told her she just didn't eat. Lisa Ann told Sherri the truth . . .but <u>not</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. To show Sherri a <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u> appetite for Lisa Ann; she took her through a tour of <u style="font-style: italic;">Little Italy</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">Chinatown</u>, then they <u>tried</u> to walk back to their hotel. She told Sherri that the way Lisa Ann made the working mom/cooking healthy they happen was to cook all that was good-for-her stuff on Sunday night and put in plastic containers to be ready for the week. So that neither of them starved. This led to various trips to <u style="font-style: italic;">Costco</u>. What you see with Sherri is <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> what you get. They had a <b><u>BLAST</u></b> marauding their way through the aisles at the store. Causing trouble and knocking shit <u>completely</u> over. Lisa Ann taught Sherri how to shop <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">properly</b> with money. After laying things out from the store, Lisa Ann then proceeded with cooking. Asian chicken with vegetables, oatmeal breakfast cookies, brown rice, steak salad with a meatloaf - while Sherri sat at the island in Lisa Ann's kitchen. Played with her kids, gossiped and hung out with Lisa Ann and her friends. Sherri then took the food and the containers home. Lisa Ann was taken care of <u>previously</u> from Sherri's during a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> depression that Lisa Ann was going through. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_IpCwhGsGcbOtJmyDlCb9aZNSJHq32Mz-9HzNSYOfHJKgk_1ARdyzLbidV3tRDgPUqL4y8MFqQEkl9x6GWVJIfWHKpnEbCmP0boJRAp8MZD9tb4O3CT_HBcALmPufz8994Onatcp4-d8GMZ-tOkDCZhoZmEBI2co5N5YhqDovYxx__qTtM9tIJoEOw/s720/MV5BMDE4NTJiODctNjZlNi00YjhjLTk4YjYtMWFmY2FiYjg0MmI1XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTEwODg2MDY@._V1_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_IpCwhGsGcbOtJmyDlCb9aZNSJHq32Mz-9HzNSYOfHJKgk_1ARdyzLbidV3tRDgPUqL4y8MFqQEkl9x6GWVJIfWHKpnEbCmP0boJRAp8MZD9tb4O3CT_HBcALmPufz8994Onatcp4-d8GMZ-tOkDCZhoZmEBI2co5N5YhqDovYxx__qTtM9tIJoEOw/w320-h240/MV5BMDE4NTJiODctNjZlNi00YjhjLTk4YjYtMWFmY2FiYjg0MmI1XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTEwODg2MDY@._V1_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">most</b> weight Lisa Ann put on <u>outside</u> of pregnancy was in the film; <u style="font-style: italic;">Shall We Dance</u>. She was <u style="font-weight: bold;">asked</u> to gain weight. Lisa Ann was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">excited</i> to be cast in that movie. She auditioned the month before. They stalked her agent for weeks. The audition went well though it was made <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u> due to Lisa Ann being <u>against</u> the type that the director <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u>. On top of that, it was <u>HOT</u> & sweaty. Lisa Ann was getting yelled at the <u>entire</u> way there <u>to</u> the audition by her ex-husband. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQHZy_08RkIqqf80ufY5O9gWM3Vc6NjD3rwFDExbGYaSYQtmD7MdoWx7j0SzcO1KlNct7h_MZ8gILPikYywHnIpbVOnHs8qYYnV7w-HKYtoX4BVAQGFN8HDXCVnkBfAbkeO0RUS7ultMnL-OSdxHRdFEUbkOIsEBKHX05ThA0kWsBcodr0tlOw8WP0LQ/s278/dbee29a0-6771-4895-9dc8-343861f6a116.__CR0,0,300,300_PT0_SX300_V1___.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="255" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQHZy_08RkIqqf80ufY5O9gWM3Vc6NjD3rwFDExbGYaSYQtmD7MdoWx7j0SzcO1KlNct7h_MZ8gILPikYywHnIpbVOnHs8qYYnV7w-HKYtoX4BVAQGFN8HDXCVnkBfAbkeO0RUS7ultMnL-OSdxHRdFEUbkOIsEBKHX05ThA0kWsBcodr0tlOw8WP0LQ/w183-h200/dbee29a0-6771-4895-9dc8-343861f6a116.__CR0,0,300,300_PT0_SX300_V1___.jpg" width="183" /></a></div>Lisa Ann did a fine job with the material, held everyone up for their audition due to being asked to do it a few more times; makes a great address to the director. After impressing her ass off at the audition, Lisa Ann got back in the car with her ex, the twins, got yelled at for the rest of the afternoon, went back home and got into bed to fight off a husband-inducing migraine. The next morning, the phone rang, <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> that she had to <u>finally</u> answer it. Lisa Ann got a call back. She <u>needed</u> 20 minutes to get herself <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u>. After he arrived and waited for an hour, <u style="font-style: italic;">Miramax</u> had seen Lisa Ann's tape. She was a front runner and had to go to a dance callback the following day. She was warned she might wuss out. Lisa Ann didn't care. . .she hasn't taken a ballroom class since she taught them when she was 17. She was going to spend the weekend studying 6-7 hours a day/Monday-Friday. Lisa Ann <u>nailed</u> it with a smile on her face. Lisa Ann was told months later, when she was practicing and on a dance hold, it looked like she was having the time of her life dancing for the audition. Richard Gere was looking at her tapes, and saw Lisa Ann 's big cheesy smile. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> she was <u>the</u> <u>one</u> for the part.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFrUDPwzEEi8hg8Rg2q0Yq29jjF36wLP1m1U6j3MVX0Z5qVA-D2ejX4YHyfzkJhIaZDr65eR3Eldzrl4EvI4FdZ1xUV58U4f8iv-H63rhhTBSwNzgVvjSQUhDdddVLzUukKPBLa0mBo6VkjIKhCBvfdsycl9GytS0ckjtix_5gd4Zgusn78xoAt2V-g/s1300/shall-we-dance-year-usa-2004-richard-gere-lisa-ann-walter-jennifer-B7XBE6.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="914" data-original-width="1300" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFrUDPwzEEi8hg8Rg2q0Yq29jjF36wLP1m1U6j3MVX0Z5qVA-D2ejX4YHyfzkJhIaZDr65eR3Eldzrl4EvI4FdZ1xUV58U4f8iv-H63rhhTBSwNzgVvjSQUhDdddVLzUukKPBLa0mBo6VkjIKhCBvfdsycl9GytS0ckjtix_5gd4Zgusn78xoAt2V-g/s320/shall-we-dance-year-usa-2004-richard-gere-lisa-ann-walter-jennifer-B7XBE6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> eat over 10,000 calories to <u>maintain</u> the weight due to <u>multiple</u> hours of dance rehearsals a day. She had to get over her <u>natural</u> inclination to feel like a bad, guilty person. It was the role of her lifetime - meeting <u>wonderful</u> people who are <u>still</u> her friends while doing it. Tony Dovolani and others <u>prior</u> to their <u style="font-style: italic;">Dancing With The Stars</u> success. Lisa Ann just had to get good enough to <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> depend on Richard Gere. Richard was exceptional. He took care of Lisa Ann in <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> ways, including shoeing off the press crew that happened to be there the day they shot the scene where Lisa Ann's shirt was ripped off during the competition. Lisa Ann went back one and Richard <u>saw</u> Lisa Ann and asked if she was okay. Richard Gere <u>took</u> <u>care</u> of the situation and alleviated Lisa Ann of the crying body trauma. From that, Lisa Ann would <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> love and kill for that man. Lisa Ann had an <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredible</u> and <b><u>unbelievably</u></b> thrilling creative experience that her husband was ruining. <u>Years</u> later, when Lisa Ann confronted him, he wanted to know how she knew. He accustomed to blameshift her due to her <u>working</u> dalliance with Tony Dovolani from <u style="font-style: italic;">Dancing</u>. Lisa Ann assured him of what goes in/on with the dancing process and what it took emotionally to <u>make</u> <u>it</u> <u>work</u> for TV. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</u> happened outside of a <u>professional</u> relationship with Lisa Ann & Tony. . .but she <u style="font-weight: bold;">wished</u> it had. When it came to her ex. . .the quote of "<i>those whom protest too much. . .but in another direction</i>." </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP2SuohK8JSG1VEG_FRP-fPUS7nfkWsGKq0_nm-trCmoErAgPgIWqJZ3mHX5IAX-5F5C1xybfJNeXC2YDBVayZJ2BRLm2a6_UqRcPbNtx_aydRMkRHSXx0IOSyy2Dz4VJbeackKUtnujELnJ3JOfVEuFFMgqsqCMvk72a4hrXtRpTwgUotQ34i1yCv3g/s300/download.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP2SuohK8JSG1VEG_FRP-fPUS7nfkWsGKq0_nm-trCmoErAgPgIWqJZ3mHX5IAX-5F5C1xybfJNeXC2YDBVayZJ2BRLm2a6_UqRcPbNtx_aydRMkRHSXx0IOSyy2Dz4VJbeackKUtnujELnJ3JOfVEuFFMgqsqCMvk72a4hrXtRpTwgUotQ34i1yCv3g/s1600/download.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div>Lisa Ann got <u>both</u> jobs from <u style="font-style: italic;">Nip</u>/<u style="font-style: italic;">Tuck</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">Drillbit Taylor</u> due to the porn blonde hair extensions slut-do and mom-o-rexic divorce revenge figure. Lisa Ann <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> her looks got her those jobs. Although the jobs were off from the aforementioned ways Lisa Ann was <u>perceived</u> <u>to</u> <u>be</u> on-screen. The challenge of putting on weight for a movie - <u>especially</u> when you're not as <u style="font-weight: bold;">famous</u> as others, is that this particular business tries to pigeonhole you. Once Lisa Ann was <u>thin</u>, she was called in to be "<i>ingenious fat funny friend</i>" and was <u>too</u> skinny for that! Nancy Meyers called Lisa Ann in to play one of Mel Gibson's secretaries in her movie; <u style="font-style: italic;">What Women Want</u>, and she had just gotten done with starving herself and exercising herself into a size 2 for pilot season. Lisa Ann was to read for the part <u>several</u> times, then another part and another. <u>Finally</u>, Lisa Ann was able to read for the part of the psychiatrist - a part that went to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARY</u> Bette Midler. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_JefA04V7Wl17z9fCexKE6wkd5K3nKUJw3aW2B2z3pybUA7g4v7DW9XyCAnz-9TvY_5tFKlyMCDnyGGVu6T8_cIo9z370gMFu7HDJUzGRDR16HUeNl17yAXL4QEeO8CZd2fsQiVm59qFq_pIqJYHXCLlzQ_PpMBetp3eiJcyg5vksTeVYR_liLnxJw/s390/14806626-7143313-image-m-47_1560545523416.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="306" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_JefA04V7Wl17z9fCexKE6wkd5K3nKUJw3aW2B2z3pybUA7g4v7DW9XyCAnz-9TvY_5tFKlyMCDnyGGVu6T8_cIo9z370gMFu7HDJUzGRDR16HUeNl17yAXL4QEeO8CZd2fsQiVm59qFq_pIqJYHXCLlzQ_PpMBetp3eiJcyg5vksTeVYR_liLnxJw/s320/14806626-7143313-image-m-47_1560545523416.webp" width="251" /></a></div>While Lisa Ann was auditioning, a picture of her was held up from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Parent Trap</u> era and <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> was what they wanted! <u style="font-weight: bold;">Meant</u> as a <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u> compliment, but Lisa Ann was just <u>un</u>employed. It really was just a question of staying viable long enough to get so old that they don't <u>connect</u> with what they've <u>known</u>. If you're too old for the image of sex. . .then it doesn't matter. Through it <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>, Lisa Ann has been lucky enough to make <u style="font-weight: bold;">lifelong</u> friends <u>all</u> of whom have eaten holiday meals at her house due to the dicey relationships most actors have with their families anyway. That is why they became actors. Damage. Why go to a restaurant when you can have Lisa Ann's home cooking? She's got kids. She's already cooking. . .so what the hell? Friends from high school all the way to co-stars she's worked with <u>TODAY</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75G3pdVQQJ4FtrWVHyOG1HqzFKog19bIT9z0YV9kBtLkPlWNebrWFAhO3teOBL3RxrbRg-73lUo1C_iYpBuv7Gv-kQvRmGEHhd_z4ysuI1u4P9Fmq6spw7k2xCASyZsuZg4Q0DGy9Y3bpFyxBN7P7oQM7hsrbq_4rzqc_5uiyevA9-ePNSvfOdVJ_wQ/s1998/Elaine-Hendrix-and-Lisa-Ann-Walter-friendship-01.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1332" data-original-width="1998" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg75G3pdVQQJ4FtrWVHyOG1HqzFKog19bIT9z0YV9kBtLkPlWNebrWFAhO3teOBL3RxrbRg-73lUo1C_iYpBuv7Gv-kQvRmGEHhd_z4ysuI1u4P9Fmq6spw7k2xCASyZsuZg4Q0DGy9Y3bpFyxBN7P7oQM7hsrbq_4rzqc_5uiyevA9-ePNSvfOdVJ_wQ/w320-h213/Elaine-Hendrix-and-Lisa-Ann-Walter-friendship-01.webp" width="320" /></a></div>When Lisa Ann was a teenager, she never felt threatened by having gorgeous friends. She was the short, curvy girl flanked by a gang of supermodel-looking high school juniors. Lisa Ann <u>didn't</u> <u>care</u>. Because he danced all night. Some of her friends are ones she talks to every day, lived at her house after break-ups and came to family events/holidays. Like Elaine Hendrix from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Parent Trap</u>. They met on their <u>first</u> day on location and talked for 3 hours <u>straight</u> during their first dinner. Which spilled into hanging in her room afterwards, taking fun photos while bored on-set - which led to co-writing a movie and a <u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u> lifelong friendship where they shared their lives. Lisa Ann has had various, multiple friends, many of whom have enjoyed stardom, male (<i>and female</i>) adoration, spreads in <u>various</u> magazines. All struggles within friendships all have the momentum of standing in the mirror and <u style="font-weight: bold;">FACING</u> the people we are. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluBwroKIYTEuvdDaZfwb0JN32ge-Z6aXoZt0y1GNi8Wchz8kPK5tSdmPhTWdKLgBbYkofbsKvZL39IFWd1zLzazEAyUuP_Ozqydv-HzRrNoBwehExWAwocpayRTREWlspS0N8PKDDPpZvxPgXp5lg8P05w3BJvVLtUnQJdVzhYil0lwigSVURyuVt9Q/s2000/81m2nojJFCL._RI_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluBwroKIYTEuvdDaZfwb0JN32ge-Z6aXoZt0y1GNi8Wchz8kPK5tSdmPhTWdKLgBbYkofbsKvZL39IFWd1zLzazEAyUuP_Ozqydv-HzRrNoBwehExWAwocpayRTREWlspS0N8PKDDPpZvxPgXp5lg8P05w3BJvVLtUnQJdVzhYil0lwigSVURyuVt9Q/s320/81m2nojJFCL._RI_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In the end, Lisa Ann said it herself. . ."<i>I'm not a celebrity. . .I'm Celebrity Adjacent</i>." Lisa Ann Walter took time from her successes and raised her children. Once she was able to return to work, in 2021, Lisa Ann was able to <u style="font-weight: bold;">successfully</u> <u>return</u> with the <u style="font-style: italic;">ABC</u> sitcom <u style="font-style: italic;">Abbott Elementary</u> with Lisa Ann as no-nonsense say-it-like-you-mean-it ball-buster Melissa Schemmetti. (<i>While this show is a </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETE</u><i><b> </b>success from Executive Producer/Creator, Quinta Brunson</i>....<i>let's face it</i>; <i>Lisa Ann Walter is what makes this show the </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">HIT</u><i> that it is...so thank you to Quinta and <u>especially</u> Lisa Ann Walter herself</i>.) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This video of Lisa Ann is <b><u>EXACTLY</u></b> what made me <b><u>LOVE</u></b> her. Why I wanted to read her book.</div><div> What I <u>couldn't</u> describe in this video... Lisa Ann did it for me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzBllsVJVRZxCMWb8gG9acACBf0AtytKsc30ADwPVMSoGIWK9MdmbuRCbXBSf-DaSS6e61eYPIvImDc0GpYJA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjaPticSMqGmfsWieN4fatfuo997V3OBIpMpqHo4-CkP6yMS2RTxkzNL8KXe0M0vr9ATgF87eS8GXXfV4e1r3nYbPxenwBqUoxiK0LyWuVj9mfGR9FB-CJVJ6y2tQsqpJgVb_i7aL0Gvf0s1VzJskTxQHWN5WmuVIR9K1NzyWXnRRAjMECX5zal_Sbxg/s528/528x528-Q90_404a7d8de064de1e0f2bcb185f8017ff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="528" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjaPticSMqGmfsWieN4fatfuo997V3OBIpMpqHo4-CkP6yMS2RTxkzNL8KXe0M0vr9ATgF87eS8GXXfV4e1r3nYbPxenwBqUoxiK0LyWuVj9mfGR9FB-CJVJ6y2tQsqpJgVb_i7aL0Gvf0s1VzJskTxQHWN5WmuVIR9K1NzyWXnRRAjMECX5zal_Sbxg/w400-h400/528x528-Q90_404a7d8de064de1e0f2bcb185f8017ff.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> </div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-2703292062042876812022-10-11T11:31:00.004-07:002022-10-23T15:50:34.097-07:00A Very Punchable Face<p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTauXJa3virPzVElAst2QCuRdRYzwx6C_xtbg4IfUAiyht-Hqm29rbMiXvXbc-ChEbzxQAqh-SG3bjv-Zkcy8G2Mcszhw-fZN5IDYbGJc8FDG4f1vsSnvClibQr0eIp2FkXYKQpD_zIda4doqNbijZrfGC1GTSSvsQ0BadhZre6nJbosrda-NsCSiDw/s500/41aMdmJbg9L._AC_SY780_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="332" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTauXJa3virPzVElAst2QCuRdRYzwx6C_xtbg4IfUAiyht-Hqm29rbMiXvXbc-ChEbzxQAqh-SG3bjv-Zkcy8G2Mcszhw-fZN5IDYbGJc8FDG4f1vsSnvClibQr0eIp2FkXYKQpD_zIda4doqNbijZrfGC1GTSSvsQ0BadhZre6nJbosrda-NsCSiDw/w265-h400/41aMdmJbg9L._AC_SY780_.jpg" width="265" /></a></div> This next book was written by one <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> bad-ass comedian and writer. From his <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUMBLE</u> beginnings in Staten Island, he defied the type. Working his way from <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> alumni to head writer at <u style="font-style: italic;">Saturday Night Live</u>! to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>. This <u>incredible</u> man's story is one to say that he is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u> good guy. Someone who would be every guy's buddy. Accolades don't matter when you're just yourself. This is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> story of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">CLASSY</u> Colin Kelley Jost. </div><div><br /></div><div>For someone whose job is <u>essentially</u> <i>speaking</i>, Colin has difficulty taking what is inside his head and saying it out loud. Whereas the act of writing allows Colin's brain to function in a <u>different</u> way. Colin can write and <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> be <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u> of what he's going to say. Colin has a <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuine</u> love of books. They were his first escape and the <u>only</u> way Colin traveled and learned about the world without leaving the Island Colin grew up on. <i style="font-weight: bold;">This is something Colin and I can </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">relate</u><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> the books we read were to learn more than from our surroundings</i>. were Colin's ticket to a good college. Books were also a way for Colin to learn about those he admired; like Teddy Roosevelt. Colin is <u>not</u> someone who opens up <u>easily</u>. Colin is half-German and half Irish-Catholic. That is why Colin <u>rarely</u> posts on social media or does any serious interviews. Colin feels <u>ashamed</u> when talking about himself, even though everyone else divulged themselves openly. Putting himself together in book form isn't gossip or telling on himself; for Colin it's like telling a friend. It also puts Colin at ease somehow, because books were his friends. Math was like a girlfriend and Colin just lost his virginity to spelling.<p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLTy0e3jnPkfT5NSEIVqaKirxhXPty7L9ntEKg96eS17vs8CFOt7ZQgjH7OZHO1lNVpCpRsgCvmoopoTZvsJT8KnIOVSULajMfz28eRNWnlIp6OaNgNl0YOheiPDTxqUSOagcJKF6mPLDmjkAAjkWHFc3tAGNwC7OXCl8ILV_4mO9n-ENPl-QBbTLWQ/s1200/teddy.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLTy0e3jnPkfT5NSEIVqaKirxhXPty7L9ntEKg96eS17vs8CFOt7ZQgjH7OZHO1lNVpCpRsgCvmoopoTZvsJT8KnIOVSULajMfz28eRNWnlIp6OaNgNl0YOheiPDTxqUSOagcJKF6mPLDmjkAAjkWHFc3tAGNwC7OXCl8ILV_4mO9n-ENPl-QBbTLWQ/w200-h200/teddy.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teddy Roosevelt</td></tr></tbody></table>Colin chose this particular title for this book due to multiple <u>friends</u> telling him he had one. So punchable that he's been in at least 4 different sketches on <i><u>S.N.L</u>.</i> Multiple skits and punchline jokes centered around Colin's facial beauty. Colin has learned that anytime he gets physically abused on camera; people laugh. Many facets of this book include these various stories. Colin sees his facial demure as someone asking for it. Colin <u>thinks</u> he has the face of a Republican even though he is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRONG</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WILLED</u> <u>Democrat</u> who's voted in every election for every <u>single</u> office; even the weird ones. As someone who was bullied growing up, Colin realized that it was <u>easier</u> to play into the bullying rather than fighting it. If you're better at making fun of yourself than a bully is, then the bully has no room to operate. (<i>Other than punching</i>.) If people make fun of you; beat them to the punch and they have <u>no</u> material.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3lvVsAzVPv48UUnc55YTg2PXY9-T5seqEccH2B5Od6DL8Jtfs622BBW8B-wM2pn7jxCiKKC1WSZym3En1f6FZIYhfiXjtc3Z9zBAg9mdVGhxEt4m0fM0DV5hVp_KJ9oEo__N2TvIraKHZk_M-C3IXO1QZP2VyDExsYvBDTjmR6KfiiQi17HRXrL_2Q/s411/Childhood-Picture-of-Colin-Jost-with-his-Brother.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw3lvVsAzVPv48UUnc55YTg2PXY9-T5seqEccH2B5Od6DL8Jtfs622BBW8B-wM2pn7jxCiKKC1WSZym3En1f6FZIYhfiXjtc3Z9zBAg9mdVGhxEt4m0fM0DV5hVp_KJ9oEo__N2TvIraKHZk_M-C3IXO1QZP2VyDExsYvBDTjmR6KfiiQi17HRXrL_2Q/s320/Childhood-Picture-of-Colin-Jost-with-his-Brother.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>Colin wasn't able to <u>speak</u> until he was about almost 4-yrs-old. His parents claim they weren't too worried; but this was something that <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> normal. Colin could <u>understand</u> what people were <u>saying</u>; he just <u>couldn't</u> respond verbally. Colin would point or grunt but couldn't form any <u>actual</u> words. Colin's mom finally showed worry. Every other child spoke in <u>full</u> sentences. Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRYING</u> to will the words out, but he just <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> do it. His mom stated that Colin would get angry and lash out. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> respond with words; so he resorted to violence. Other times Colin would get <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u> and not know how to <u>express</u> it. <u>To</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>, Colin is in his head <u>alot</u> of the time. Colin has a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> about <u>speaking</u>. <u>Not</u> public speaking; but regular speaking. It isn't the speaking; it's the getting going and <u style="font-weight: bold;">starting</u>. He fumbles letting his words catch up to his brain. Like a pinwheel on a computer. Getting on the phone and talking to another human feels like a <u style="font-weight: bold;">huge</u> psychological accomplishment.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_DiHR6ZPts_jHQnH2OG7p9kFth0B77r7kU0CfDTqZiOdBs352-XxZ-qINLRBv6uGnv_CvrduVdzbv16MhHnFB0C1YWxbk-puB-mmzP2rujO0zG5Pz_fdFFy4RI_IuFP4S3Qus3kIaFMvi52H3QN6BMJQvk6e_hg-mN9I0g_H3ixisMSYCyzZBNua6A/s750/mermaid.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_DiHR6ZPts_jHQnH2OG7p9kFth0B77r7kU0CfDTqZiOdBs352-XxZ-qINLRBv6uGnv_CvrduVdzbv16MhHnFB0C1YWxbk-puB-mmzP2rujO0zG5Pz_fdFFy4RI_IuFP4S3Qus3kIaFMvi52H3QN6BMJQvk6e_hg-mN9I0g_H3ixisMSYCyzZBNua6A/w266-h400/mermaid.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>That is also why Colin <u>loved</u> performing, even as a kid. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> Colin to speak with <u style="font-weight: bold;">conviction</u> and express emotion in what he was saying. If Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> have an <u>outlet</u> as a writer and as a performer, he has <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> where he would be. Colin is a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants guy. Moment-to-moment. In thought, but not <u style="font-weight: bold;">thinking</u> about it. Being <u style="font-weight: bold;">boring</u> is what Colin <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fears</u> most; so Colin tries to mentally store what to say. The more Colin gets it out of his head and onstage or paper; the better off he is. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Something <u>I</u> can <u>personally</u> relate to. . . If I'm in thought</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">write it <u>fast</u> or <u>forget</u> it with </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REMEMBERING</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> it later</i>. When Colin was 4, due to his inability to speak, they took him to <u style="font-style: italic;">Staten Island University Hospital</u><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>to work on what would <u style="font-weight: bold;">save</u> Colin's life. Colin felt like Ariel in <u style="font-style: italic;">The Little Mermaid</u> only she and Colin were <u style="font-weight: bold;">receiving</u> their voices. She <u>gifted</u> him like the Fairy Godmother in <u style="font-style: italic;">Cinderella</u>. Colin <u>only</u> knows <u style="font-style: italic;">Disney</u>. Like <u>many</u> parents, Colin's mom runs through the rest of the family's names <u>before</u> getting to <u>him</u>. Colin is <u style="font-weight: bold;">ETERNALLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFULLY</u> for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">GIFT</u> of speech. He <u>doesn't</u> remember the exercises. But, he does remember the <u style="font-weight: bold;">FREEING</u> feeling of speech. Colin's <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> was <u>gone</u>. He <u>remembers</u> how <u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u> he was to <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">express</u> himself. He didn't have to justify punching anyone. Colin is still a work in progress; but once he gets going, he'll be <u>okay</u>.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiRnT5HDuh86-FGKxD__ly-vI1gwjoFnno-mLPVB0Ga1nwRFZAWrKn1d1BOwycmwky5X45DPoAAaZkQQ_00xfbFwP8U06t8GkOPVdttSH-z938J2W-KH8hREKcwF9sjhU4l-77jMXb2-D-tDKdBnm_vT7AYVlnqNBB1DtqaiA-N4MdQ_EoYNs08uY-ug/s2048/kid.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiRnT5HDuh86-FGKxD__ly-vI1gwjoFnno-mLPVB0Ga1nwRFZAWrKn1d1BOwycmwky5X45DPoAAaZkQQ_00xfbFwP8U06t8GkOPVdttSH-z938J2W-KH8hREKcwF9sjhU4l-77jMXb2-D-tDKdBnm_vT7AYVlnqNBB1DtqaiA-N4MdQ_EoYNs08uY-ug/s320/kid.webp" width="200" /></a></div>When Colin tells people that he's from Staten Island, they were perplexed with images of stereotypes displayed on TV or media. While the media's perception allocates <u>40%</u> of its population, the rest are grounded, hard-working, normal educated human beings. When Colin finally learned to speak, he sounded like a <u style="font-style: italic;">Soprano</u>. Eventually, Colin trained himself <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to speak that way due to <u>not</u> wanting people to single him out. Colin wanted to fit in other places <u>outside</u> of where he grew up. That is why Colin <u>sounds</u> like he does now. Colin's family has been living continuously on Staten Island since at least 1890. He <u>loved</u> growing up on Staten Island because it felt like kids doing regular kid stuff. They played sports and wandered around unsupervised. Seeing things you would <u style="font-weight: bold;">ONLY</u> in Staten Island. Colin really <u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u> know everyone's names. Not only because it was a close knit community, but also because the people Colin grew up with had fantastic names. Colin <u>loved</u> growing up on Staten Island because it felt like <u>kids</u> <u>being</u> <u>kids</u>. Doing <u>regular</u> stuff. Of course, Staten Island has changed <u>ALOT</u> since Colin's relatives settled there. At the age of 17, Colin's swim coach was giving him a trophy at the end of the year awards ceremony. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Colin's future wasn't in swimming, nor was it in Staten Island. Colin was <u>going</u> <u>places</u>.; looking back, Colin is <b><u>APPRECIATIVE</u></b> of how Staten Island <u>informed</u> the rest of his life.</div><div><br /></div><div>The <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> is that Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALWAYS</u> had a chip on his shoulder about his hometown. But, it stems from a <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEP</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">INSECURITY</u> that Colin doesn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> <u>belong</u> anywhere. Colin is <u style="font-weight: bold;">PROUD</u> of where he comes from and <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEFIES</u> the "<i>norm</i>" of "<i>stereotypical</i>" Staten Island. He feels defensive about it because the people he knew were <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u> people. Colin has come to <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">resent</u> the <u>negative</u> depiction of Staten Island in the media due to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TERRIBLE</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">HORRIBLE</u> stereotypes representation. </div><div><br /></div><div>Colin proceeds to tell the stories of how he succumbed to 6 stitches within his lifetime <u>thus</u> <u>far</u>. The <u>first</u> where he received was half an inch from his eyeball; ripping open his eyelid.. The <u>2ND</u> became <u>Colin's</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">fault</u> in a war of sibling rivalry where he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u> angry at his younger brother due to that simple fact in itself. Colin decided to grab scissors from his dad's desk and <u style="font-weight: bold;">literally</u> stab his brother in the back. (<i>Boys will be boys</i>.) The main flaw in his <u>stabbing</u> was that <u>fast</u>. When Casey saw Colin with a pair of scissors in his hands, Casey <u>darted</u> down the hallway. Halfway down the hallway, the basement door opened outward. Casey, sensing that his fast running <u>might</u> <u>not</u> be fast <u>enough</u>, threw open the door as he passed. Colin proceeded to slam <u>into</u> the door at <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">speed</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">first</u> and Colin's chin <u style="font-weight: bold;">exploded</u> with <span style="color: red;">blood</span>. Being scarred once again. Colin begins to delve into the stories of how he received the rest of the following 5 stitches. (<i>This story was </i><u style="font-style: italic;">just</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">an</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">example</u>.)</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHQ4ky0s9HLarpcxdjAlaORD8hwdHu3aPiQhIIbdWm0JftEWe1w3XX-KtsrM4mnDvoGBgBGUfw0ssR2RKIpMq1LhJdnhoHLT_0UH-E8TFoID0W_jx6cZC-l2V5jzQfvM2brSRyCBdRpPquYjVscSkhye9eCQGY1VzKz1zzhxaZhD1lV-U8WxHbvYPww/s699/hs.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="636" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHQ4ky0s9HLarpcxdjAlaORD8hwdHu3aPiQhIIbdWm0JftEWe1w3XX-KtsrM4mnDvoGBgBGUfw0ssR2RKIpMq1LhJdnhoHLT_0UH-E8TFoID0W_jx6cZC-l2V5jzQfvM2brSRyCBdRpPquYjVscSkhye9eCQGY1VzKz1zzhxaZhD1lV-U8WxHbvYPww/s320/hs.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>Colin's grandfather worked 4 jobs. He was able to put 4 children through college. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> that education was the <u>best</u> way to get ahead in life. <i style="font-weight: bold;">This is before social media and sex tapes</i>. Protect your brain. It's all you've got. Your brain is your ticket wherever you want to go. Colin's brother was <u>definitely</u> his ticket out of Staten Island, because it got him into a Catholic High School called <u style="font-style: italic;">Regis</u> that would <u>change</u> the course of the rest of his life. Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">likely</u> to get accepted to <u style="font-style: italic;">Regis</u> because (a) it was one of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEST</u> high schools in the country, and (b) it was <u>FREE</u>! For Colin, this was the <b><u>ULTIMATE</u> <u>JACKPOT</u>!</b> The only catch was that <u style="font-style: italic;">Regis</u> was in Manhattan. . .So, on a good day it took Colin 1hr &1/2 <u>each</u> <u>way</u> to get there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUGwfQ1CyxFfA5aP0O3RktXva5pjl2RIEfe9siE61isPRoLDoCkYOBAEjxSmNS8htiK-3x5GBAllvc5-zfaID6dM68txbE31tbjEJ69ODu6H31C92qkQvNwRc9w9PriLZxhlDCX0FI1N4MpVudrTa7-UbZau6uQbNGa-uhBUldXmvedNi7Q9AvJCguw/s369/ll.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPWQyBpMuFTvU1SawTn2Rsv_BKAHYa5xGgG3dqZ_3LclGYbrFDyE7kjSuWBhGAKGgNfbyl0fGsfdju6UAw-GyolS-uF54BKasWmovEma93zxJMJ72Dajiw6uXV2ISVDIsRn8nGXHa_MT8DD4ly4wX0auZ9bAhALazPYrTH015yDVKfR3KSJ5ZYvpCng/s369/ll.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="136" data-original-width="369" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPWQyBpMuFTvU1SawTn2Rsv_BKAHYa5xGgG3dqZ_3LclGYbrFDyE7kjSuWBhGAKGgNfbyl0fGsfdju6UAw-GyolS-uF54BKasWmovEma93zxJMJ72Dajiw6uXV2ISVDIsRn8nGXHa_MT8DD4ly4wX0auZ9bAhALazPYrTH015yDVKfR3KSJ5ZYvpCng/s320/ll.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Colin took a bus, a ferry, then a subway. <u>No</u> <u>need</u> to really complain about the commute due to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">gratitude</u> of their position. If you <u>don't</u> want to make the trip, there are plenty of kids who would take your place. <u>Initially</u>, Colin's parents <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> for their 14-yr-old commuting to the city and taking the subway home at night. Like many kids at <u style="font-style: italic;">Regis</u>, Colin was <u>book</u>-smart and <u>street</u> illiterate. Colin would take <u>in</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> within <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> of 4 years that by the time he graduated, Colin looked like <u>hell</u>. Colin grew up in the district of New York; he and his friends near <u style="font-style: italic;">Limelight</u>. Some of his friends did actually fun things by taking in <u style="font-style: italic;">Limelight</u>. Colin was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">opposite</u>. Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">afraid</u> to try drugs because his brain was <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> <u>he</u> had. So Colin enjoyed the "<i>nerdier</i>" perks of Manhattan. Like sneaking in to watch the funeral of one of the publishing houses in town. <i style="font-weight: bold;">That was Colin's idea of fun</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4oQlE0o-L6kY8Xs8I1OLxlt1bIqtxyCeY-oeIhBokOqsEP9ukBZLBjlg_G89zGOgVbbRmpsu_zUqRkJQPLRO37sq5ucTYqbhHJvhjVxyzJqjnFAhTEDyxPaGatxig-bAMgY6w-X3gPAwwgFaB5PHRjaipQstlY5ojvbtCiwUmn1QPlOv4kKO5OrsJYg/s800/Knitting_Factory_(New_York).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4oQlE0o-L6kY8Xs8I1OLxlt1bIqtxyCeY-oeIhBokOqsEP9ukBZLBjlg_G89zGOgVbbRmpsu_zUqRkJQPLRO37sq5ucTYqbhHJvhjVxyzJqjnFAhTEDyxPaGatxig-bAMgY6w-X3gPAwwgFaB5PHRjaipQstlY5ojvbtCiwUmn1QPlOv4kKO5OrsJYg/w200-h150/Knitting_Factory_(New_York).jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Colin wasn't always squeaky-clean, though. Occasionally, he signed out of school under the guise of visiting a nearby museum <u>but</u> instead snuck off to play billiards at a local pool hall. Or sometimes, Colin and a friend would go to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Knitting Factory</u>; they would share a 40 of malt liquor and watch a 12 person band perform songs. The closest thing they had on Staten Island was a waiter who sang <u style="font-style: italic;">That's Amore</u>! And sometimes Colin and a friend would go to an Italian restaurant downtown and order "<i>one glass of red wine, please</i>." And they would serve them. One glass of red wine for 2 out of control teams'. Then they stumbled home, flying <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIGH</u> from wine; thinking <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">The Blair Witch Project</i> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> and coming for them. Colin also got to meet the most intimidating and sophisticated ladies in the world. They attended family neighboring schools - that <u style="font-style: italic;">sounded</u> rich. They wanted them to attend their high school dances, and felt like a way chubbier Jay Gatsby; faking a cultured air to <u>mask</u> his Staten Island bootlegger upbringing. (<i>To be fair, Colin still feels like this at times</i>.) All of Colin's friends would hang out after school for <u>hours</u> because <u>no</u> <u>one</u> wanted to go home. The <u>adventures</u> of the city were waiting for them in the outer boroughs. <u>Knowledge</u> and curiosity was their treasure.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnSXlfLB1xrFy8Ov3rubWdHI8_ceRjjMZ8UffKz-OLsHvC1QKGbowHEPlNnzsv3RFBs39AIgziX4Cafy8K9penU4vcGzoLmS5MD-DtnCiAAkwCuRj480wBExI0aio24z9biOJnLwMcXM00HSnNbm-UCOuq2oCiZnqtVhM6KHMUnta1_ZjRnJdcQATsg/s717/colin%20young.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="304" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnSXlfLB1xrFy8Ov3rubWdHI8_ceRjjMZ8UffKz-OLsHvC1QKGbowHEPlNnzsv3RFBs39AIgziX4Cafy8K9penU4vcGzoLmS5MD-DtnCiAAkwCuRj480wBExI0aio24z9biOJnLwMcXM00HSnNbm-UCOuq2oCiZnqtVhM6KHMUnta1_ZjRnJdcQATsg/w170-h400/colin%20young.jpg" width="170" /></a></div>The <u>upside</u> of having 60 mins of a commute is that you can get a <u>lot</u> of homework done on the way home. (<i>And in the mornings</i>;<i> you can cram for an exam you'd have that day</i>.) There were moments in Colin's high school career where he would hear the principal recite subway juvenilities to where Colin and his friends would <u style="font-weight: bold;">burst</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> in laughter. They still had no idea what was being said, but they were excited a <u>random</u> stranger on the <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">NYC Subway</i> had called their high school to complain about a group of teenagers using this language, Teens and boys with their languages. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Scarier</u> and intense moments include Colin getting jumped along with his friends by older, much stronger teenagers who followed them off the trains late; jumping Colin and breaking his friend's nose. Or Colin watching a man sleep on the street and get hit at <u style="font-weight: bold;">FULL</u> speed by a bus <u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">front</u> of him. Hey, It's New York! Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWS</u> that New York is <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> and overwhelming, especially when your <u>brain</u> is in development and <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fully</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">cooked</u>. But, Colin was <u>always</u> on edge when he traveled home alone late at night. </div><div><br /></div><div>Colin <u>actually</u> tried to look sad, without smiling in fear he would get punched. In keeping with his slow-to-talk, living in his head approach to life; Colin would invent stories in his head for sorrow from a robber. Taking pity on him from a look at him. When the subways <u>weren't</u> empty and scary; they were loud and crowded. So, Colin would <u>read</u> and <u>focus</u> on the train. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Something Colin & I <u>both</u> have in common. Reading is what <u>saved</u> us</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, there was the <u style="font-style: italic;">boat</u> portion of the trip, which always added a funny element to sprinkle into a morning commute. Arriving in Manhattan every morning via ship was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> a "<i>yacht lifestyle</i>". The ferry is known for its <u>fabulous</u> attributes; but with the sweet comes the sour. Let's just say time flies when you're on the verge of tetanus. After the subway and the subway, getting on the bus on Staten Island to finish off his evening commute <u>actually</u> felt like a relief. Colin knew he was almost home when the bus went <u style="font-weight: bold;">silent</u>. <u>To</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>, Colin is <u>more</u> productive while traveling because he <u>knows</u> the journey itself is getting him somewhere, and that frees his mind to be more creative. Colin exited the bus every night at the base of a cemetery run by stray dogs, which then chased him up the street to his house. 8 Hours Later, Colin did it all over again. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN91d71MgvOO5yGUppKZa70Y9G5sEVSY_laHKDaSlWJOULLbsjYDMr_PbTGDBg58mo4YJMsRB7b7on2krqyN0qfn3lVlw_wnK098tGkaY1uV2DXKJERt63ZIWensjElFkdCSAtIYWGNJNSsZyLduDwx_CjI_uj2oiCmC4uPHDmy1jIazuGkvVeekAlTw/s1200/swimming.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN91d71MgvOO5yGUppKZa70Y9G5sEVSY_laHKDaSlWJOULLbsjYDMr_PbTGDBg58mo4YJMsRB7b7on2krqyN0qfn3lVlw_wnK098tGkaY1uV2DXKJERt63ZIWensjElFkdCSAtIYWGNJNSsZyLduDwx_CjI_uj2oiCmC4uPHDmy1jIazuGkvVeekAlTw/w400-h266/swimming.webp" width="400" /></a></div>Growing up, Colin played various sports including basketball, baseball, golf and soccer. He was <u>decent</u> in all of them, but not nearly good enough to play at a <u>higher</u> level. <u>Physically</u>, Colin was <u style="font-style: italic;">NBA</u> <u>ready</u> - but <u>emotionally</u> he <u>wasn't</u>. He was too immature to handle what came with the sport. The <u>one</u> sport Colin was <u>actually</u> good at swimming. Colin swam and dove from ages 4-18 <u>competitively</u>. But, he peeked at the age of 8. Even though Colin <u>loved</u> being in the water, he never <u>enjoyed</u> swim meets. It seemed <u>constructive</u> for something that was meant to be fun. What should be fun should <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> be <u>stressful</u>. By the time, Colin got to high school, he was burned out on swimming. His new commute made it <u>almost</u> impossible to get home in time for afternoon practice. So, once again, Colin prioritized his <u>brain</u> over the inefficient <u>body</u> that housed his brain. The fucked-up part was that the more sports Colin played as a kid, the fatter he got. Which didn't make sense! Colin was a sports athlete and was still <u>HEAVY</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KT4fQ19mtGurNiaj-0V7bXyNs3Xcg1QftOWWCoesHEIv3ncK-bvqZ64yJ7VGd-NTOLjQqt7LicK8gQMlOySuUqbRPTw0COTEY7Yax2VEidwvvelclPcnb-7CT11GyZImJ3D2PIwW7_hju2CDWH1FT3GcG29OfUfjZlmZCrTJ7z7zFCyRPMeyvpNN9A/s497/colin.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="354" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KT4fQ19mtGurNiaj-0V7bXyNs3Xcg1QftOWWCoesHEIv3ncK-bvqZ64yJ7VGd-NTOLjQqt7LicK8gQMlOySuUqbRPTw0COTEY7Yax2VEidwvvelclPcnb-7CT11GyZImJ3D2PIwW7_hju2CDWH1FT3GcG29OfUfjZlmZCrTJ7z7zFCyRPMeyvpNN9A/s320/colin.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>It didn't help that after every practice or swim meet, they would partake in <u style="font-style: italic;">McDonald's</u> and Colin would indulge in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">LARGE</u> meal in <u style="font-weight: bold;">addition</u> to a <u style="font-weight: bold;">VALUE</u> meal, <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> to suffice Colin's young appetite that came to fruition. In addition to food for later. Then, they would go to <u style="font-style: italic;">Wendy's</u> <b><u>after</u> </b><u style="font-style: italic;">McDonald's</u> to polish it off with a chocolate <u style="font-style: italic;">Frosty</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Colin swears he spent most of his childhood <u>convinced</u> he had breast cancer. One of his nipples was puffier than the other one. With <u>that</u>, Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">surely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">convinced</u> he had breast cancer. Colin <u>quit</u> the only sport he was ever good at, but not before he spent one last summer lifeguarding at <u style="font-style: italic;">Hillside Swim Club</u>; which by far had the best swim team on Staten Island. As a lifeguard, you were expected to watch the club; kids and make sure that there were no fatalities. But, what they <u>really</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">expected</u> you to switch the keg before it ran out of beer, or they would <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">legit</b> fire you. There were 3 lifeguards on duty <u>at</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">times</u> to monitor a pool that <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> housed more than 10 kids. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">bored</u> out of their minds. No <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> casualties.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo73DMFlHzE9P7Vh4QOg7HjW-DFl2TvORTDwE0Tjg3uKN6v_jjXmB-Lbm3jZj94dTgRW-wno_GpeMBHV11AY3fH4SxtYct0IXb9CC3aqxfjfA6-28sq8PnZ4YNqhrsgr0g4_5CQ2fnOcWQGmq4vCSiYYQ5PMT9Oonl4f596eItDN-lunK3yY8NXoNV8A/s700/merrill_lynch_logo-700x381.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="700" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo73DMFlHzE9P7Vh4QOg7HjW-DFl2TvORTDwE0Tjg3uKN6v_jjXmB-Lbm3jZj94dTgRW-wno_GpeMBHV11AY3fH4SxtYct0IXb9CC3aqxfjfA6-28sq8PnZ4YNqhrsgr0g4_5CQ2fnOcWQGmq4vCSiYYQ5PMT9Oonl4f596eItDN-lunK3yY8NXoNV8A/w320-h174/merrill_lynch_logo-700x381.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Between lifeguarding shifts, Colin was also commuting back/forth to Manhattan to intern at <i><u>Merrill Lynch</u></i> 3x a week, under the tutelage of a financial advisor. This was <u>right</u> <u>before</u> the .com bubble burst. Due to the <b><u>disastrous</u></b> legacy, <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> distrusts <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> money managers because Colin <u>saw</u> how <u>little</u> they <u>actually</u> managed <u>everything</u>! While Colin worked there, <u style="font-style: italic;">Merrill Lynch</u>'s stock was plummeting. Still, Colin was determined to learn <u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> about their financial system <u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">possible</u>. So, while Colin sat in the lifeguard chair, Colin would read and study textbooks about the subject. The last days before summer ended, Colin was dashed out of his plans if he no longer swam? Colin stated that he would <u>focus</u> on academia. <u>Mental</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">strength</u> and ability <u>outweighed</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> physical strength for Colin. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Something Colin & I both have in common</i>. With the <u style="font-weight: bold;">absolute</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ENCOURAGEMENT</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> do sports <u style="font-weight: bold;">AGAIN</u>, Colin's days of athleticism were <u>OVER</u>! Or were they . . .<u style="font-style: italic;">Speech & Debate</u> <u>is</u> <u>a</u> <u>sport</u>. There are trophies. There are tournaments. You have to stand on your feet for up to 10 minutes at a time. Dammit it's a sport. Otherwise, Colin's high school "<i>athleticism</i>" was a joke. His speech and debate trophies looked similarly <u>exact</u> to a <u>sports</u> trophy. The only differences were the inscriptions written on the trophies themselves. <u style="font-style: italic;">Speech & Debate</u> with the weekends away with tournaments in hotels in random cities with young ladies from other high schools.</div><div><br /></div><div><u>Yet</u>, sex was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">farthest</u> thing from anyone's mind. It was like trying to get laid in a cemetery. Or they would be boys being boys pretending to wrestle like the <u style="font-style: italic;">WWE</u> on the bed. Or a whole group of guys would order a porno on the T.V. and . . .sort of . . ."<i>watch</i>" it together. Let's just say releasing their sexual repressions . . . shit like that. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPX5Q9RCLrTmpfW62kMIPoTERAqYDyTYCz4gzZI-oeg40CuUYV7-xHBovjAq0lpzD0a85K-jMQnl87Akop8Ax6cmeE15IgR6Y_RnKy-10FBcTDz_bnmJE_mHVR8n7hPBzD62Ecs5WEIkBJE9x71cUmaw4nRLutp4SyWwTgISDaqliHaG20VlHqAXyfw/s1280/colin%20and%20pete.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPX5Q9RCLrTmpfW62kMIPoTERAqYDyTYCz4gzZI-oeg40CuUYV7-xHBovjAq0lpzD0a85K-jMQnl87Akop8Ax6cmeE15IgR6Y_RnKy-10FBcTDz_bnmJE_mHVR8n7hPBzD62Ecs5WEIkBJE9x71cUmaw4nRLutp4SyWwTgISDaqliHaG20VlHqAXyfw/w400-h225/colin%20and%20pete.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>To quote Colin: <i>Speech & Debate is like Track & Field for Nerds</i>. The <u>challenge</u> was to debate to get one to see the other side. If Colin's in an argument <i><u>Debate</u></i> with a dumbass, he would call them out. So, he moved to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Speech</u> side, so he could prove his point <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u> calling out some asshole. There were also in-between categories that were neither intellectual <u>nor</u> artistic. Colin prided himself on doing as many different categories as he could (<b><i>probably due to his <u>fear</u> of commitment</i></b>). Colin wrote his own speech in the style as if he were doing stand-up, where he would have a loose theme and then throw some jokes in when possible. Colin went with laughter and <u>not</u> contemplation. There were also <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u> amazing performers who made Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">realize</u> how <u>limited</u> his skills were. A few of Colin's classmates included Josh Gad and Hallie Jackson. <u style="font-style: italic;">Speech & Debate</u> helped Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">discover</u> the rest of America, including <u style="font-weight: bold;">MAJOR</u> universities where ALOT of the tournaments took place. It was like a college tour with your friends. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_fBSm75P5G9AhVCU4-_sD7L6qz6zN0btnZEO0L6autkhIXsOZ3FqYDzc97iZHsOOv387FR0hdtxB8DV9KJYARoVMkkY0w26-Rv6SopFkL6r5khNWTYoT0R4TVZUpIwQUkfTIflAF0rUaKqRUxY1qMo7Z_pTSU5Cg9WPgXcnlaJzA83vQ60iizZK_3A/s2560/harvard.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1920" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF_fBSm75P5G9AhVCU4-_sD7L6qz6zN0btnZEO0L6autkhIXsOZ3FqYDzc97iZHsOOv387FR0hdtxB8DV9KJYARoVMkkY0w26-Rv6SopFkL6r5khNWTYoT0R4TVZUpIwQUkfTIflAF0rUaKqRUxY1qMo7Z_pTSU5Cg9WPgXcnlaJzA83vQ60iizZK_3A/s320/harvard.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>By Colin's senior year, he had been <u style="font-weight: bold;">OVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">QUALIFIED</u><b>!</b> He had ALOT of angels on his bookshelf. This <u style="font-weight: bold;">meant</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> to Colin: From someone who started out at a <u>zero</u> in terms of talking; <u style="font-style: italic;">Speech & Debate</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">validated</u> Colin's ability for conversation. This <u>taught</u> him that <b><u>IT'S</u> <u>OKAY</u>!</b> Each loss is an experiment in redeeming yourself. There's always another chance. </div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> is a really weird place. Not just in terms of the school itself. Partially just name recognition has some kind of mysterious aura that feels like the gathering of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Illuminati</u>. Their <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> is that <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> is like any other school. Mostly its <b><u>NAME</u> </b>in sequence <b><u>ONLY</u>!</b> You just had good grades and something that helped you stand out in some way that <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> looked for. There is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> difference between <u>having</u> a <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> education and having one just for name only. Some people <u>dream</u> about attending <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u>. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u>. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> dreamed about attending <u style="font-style: italic;">University Of North Carolina</u>, because of Michael Jordan's status as being an alumni. Colin would journal his desire to attend there and what he would've accomplished. There was also the simple fact that <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> a place that Colin imagined he would go. Growing up in Staten Island, <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> ever said those questions; <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> or <u style="font-style: italic;">Yale</u>? More of a <u style="font-style: italic;">What Do You Plan To Do</u>? <u style="font-weight: bold;">To</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u>, no one has ever looked at Colin and thought; <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDIJLVCncKnCWNLp9zcHhch6ERWUS1OH2_ClZBkJpSMVG71tN9vO_WwhFug9jy2T-FPnSHLF7ocR5zOEvKVt3vCb-zQ_-_331oEJ7bScfnkndL3Q4_BbV971dKUTwsVNpT1Z3uqw8fyj-E3HabmHuvZCwlWZQGkIkYlmAJBEITS3YPZLJiNGxFcwC1g/s2059/winlevi.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1353" data-original-width="2059" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXDIJLVCncKnCWNLp9zcHhch6ERWUS1OH2_ClZBkJpSMVG71tN9vO_WwhFug9jy2T-FPnSHLF7ocR5zOEvKVt3vCb-zQ_-_331oEJ7bScfnkndL3Q4_BbV971dKUTwsVNpT1Z3uqw8fyj-E3HabmHuvZCwlWZQGkIkYlmAJBEITS3YPZLJiNGxFcwC1g/s320/winlevi.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winklevoss Twins </td></tr></tbody></table>When you're starting out in comedy - particularly stand-up comedy, having <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> in your introduction is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GIANT</u> turn-off and the <u>quickest</u> way for an audience to <u>hate</u> you! But, if they find out your status of the institution, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u> ask out of curiosity. Colin is great in <u style="font-weight: bold;">MATH</u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> was his enemy. During this time, Colin was with the Winklevoss Twins on the row team his freshman year. They were 8FT tall to Colin's left. 200LBS and <u>excellent</u> at rowing, while Colin hadn't rowed a boat since his grandfather took him to a duck pond on Staten Island in 1993.</div><div><br /></div><div>Colin "<i>walked on</i>" to the team, which is what they do for humor and <u>allows</u> you to join the team. By the Spring of his freshman year, Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">by</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u> in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">best</u> </div><div>shape of his life even though he had consumed 4-5,000 calories daily due to rowing a damn boat for <u>hours</u> and <u>then</u> running 6-8 miles. Colin completed the "<i>triathlon</i>", which was rowing 10,000 meters, <u>then</u> running up & down <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">single</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">section</u> of stairs in the football stadium. That was <u>certainly</u> Colin's <u>peak</u> athletic accomplishment. (<i>Other than 6TH grade basketball</i>.) Colin was eventually moved to the lightweight crew team.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMkqt1XhRwb3WAy4Y9j2jbJJX-6j1ZZy7FZMvYXshppqRHayRNtaSRPVdfiU7DAeu-_N13w9W2boAETUe361x6_Y7r8QKLLZi3Cxa57O3UMTWiMMjnNh6LDpd9jNqbkHQ0wkslixZLgVFCjz4is10X0KYJuCwGeqvlAF2VOjbCs9SHJYBb_EqGzkROw/s3046/collegiete.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3046" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMkqt1XhRwb3WAy4Y9j2jbJJX-6j1ZZy7FZMvYXshppqRHayRNtaSRPVdfiU7DAeu-_N13w9W2boAETUe361x6_Y7r8QKLLZi3Cxa57O3UMTWiMMjnNh6LDpd9jNqbkHQ0wkslixZLgVFCjz4is10X0KYJuCwGeqvlAF2VOjbCs9SHJYBb_EqGzkROw/s320/collegiete.webp" width="210" /></a></div>Crew taught Colin discipline and how to stay <u>calm</u> and <u>mentally</u> sharp even when he is <u>physically</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">DONE</u>, which is a skill he <u style="font-weight: bold;">STILL</u> uses at <u style="font-style: italic;">NBC</u>. It also taught Colin that rowing and crew is really hard and maybe more demanding on a pure aerobic level than any sport <u>except</u> boxing. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">FINALLY</u> taught Colin that he didn't want to crew anymore, due to crew anymore, due to it being grueling <u>and</u> endless, and sitting on a rowing machine 2x a day/4hrs was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">satisfying</u> way to spend your collegiate life. So, at the end of freshman year, Colin stopped rowing crew but made the interesting decision to continue consuming 5,000 calories daily. Which is hard to do when you're <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> rowing or running. It requires <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> ingenuity - like when Colin would order a double-decker pizza most nights - just for himself. Keep 'Em Coming! $4.00 each pizza. Also, during this time, Colin <u>discovered</u> beer, which he <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> touched in high school and <u><b>definitely</b></u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> a <u>diet</u> food. He gained <u style="font-weight: bold;">40</u> LBS. Then, Colin realized that his vision was fading and had to get eye-glasses the <u>first</u> time. Plus, Colin had late on-set acne, which made his <u>face</u> look like a pizza, which made him hungrier. Colin basically went through a second awkward puberty; only this time in college. </div><div><br /></div><div>Crew taught Colin discipline and how to stay <u>calm</u> and <u>mentally</u> sharp even when he is <u>physically</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">DONE</b>, which is a skill he <u style="font-weight: bold;">STILL</u> uses at <u style="font-style: italic;">NBC</u>. It also taught Colin that rowing crew is really hard and maybe more demanding on a pure aerobic level than any sport <u>except</u> boxing. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">FINALLY</u> taught Colin didn't want to do crew anymore, due to it being grueling <u>and</u> endless, and sitting on a rowing machine 2x day/4 hrs was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">satisfying</u> way to spend your collegiate life. So, in the end of freshman year, Colin stepped rowing crew but made the interesting decision to continue consuming 5,000 calories daily. Which is hard to do when you're <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> rowing or running. It requires <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> ingenuity - like when Colin would order a double decker most nights - just for himself. Keep 'Em Coming! $4.00 each pizza. Also, during this time, Colin <u>discovered</u> beer, which he <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> touched in high school and <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> a <u>diet</u> food. Colin gained <u style="font-weight: bold;">40</u> pounds. Then, Colin realized that his vision was fading and had to get eyeglasses the <u>first</u> time. Plus, Colin had late on-set acne, which made his <u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u> look like a pizza, which made him hungrier. Colin basically went through a second awkward puberty; only this time in college.</div><div><br /></div><div>Colin was also pretty disillusioned with college in general during Freshman year because he <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> missed high school; it was <u>full</u> of smart kids who never took school <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u>. Whereas other kids at <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> were ones who <u style="font-weight: bold;">rub</u> in faces. Colin also became disillusioned with his religion, because he was used to a <u>certain</u> <u>kind</u> of Catholic he grew up with - the legacy of which comes with Catholics he grew up with school boys. Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">young</u> (<i>or <u>naive</u></i>) to <u style="font-weight: bold;">understand</u> its real-world implications of religion. <i style="font-weight: bold;">In school</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Colin was taught one aspect</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> as he got older</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> he got a <u>more</u> understanding <u>world</u> view</i>. In high school, Colin had gone to Mass every Sunday and studied the Bible. Plus, Colin's mother, who took her son to Mass weekly, was a progressive woman whom was <u>PRO</u> <u>CHOICE</u>, <u>PRO</u> <u>BIRTH</u> <u>CONTROL</u> and <u>IN</u> <u>FULL</u> <u>FAVOR</u> of <u>LEGALIZING</u> <u>GAY</u> <u>MARRIAGE</u> - basically <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> things Catholic Church rallied against it. So, Colin never <u>seen</u> Catholicism as "<i>strict</i>". More of a community; and a place for quiet solace and reflection once a week. As Colin entered college, he seen religious kids v. <u style="font-weight: bold;">RELIGIOUS</u> kids; which <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> freaked him out. The <u>more</u> one <u style="font-weight: bold;">tells</u> Colin to do something, the <u>less</u> likely he is to do it. That is <u>essentially</u> why Colin went to Mass once he got to college.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTp2vbyfNVJfgaBagJWx3VwN7lc7GatvkmB1SqMF0p9-RxbfF8GcLp5C4ph1dUsqgpB7rX6pVmcHHv17ZiL9PMDGRH6SauyeKvHDxGFDBVNuPPqSvFyHq70FMFzWl3AO5HKz9GHYqcm9eZwzwiVGgEhYeg6nHc5Hrz-dsRsZ1bvTetMhTSMNAYoEhQWw/s300/download.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTp2vbyfNVJfgaBagJWx3VwN7lc7GatvkmB1SqMF0p9-RxbfF8GcLp5C4ph1dUsqgpB7rX6pVmcHHv17ZiL9PMDGRH6SauyeKvHDxGFDBVNuPPqSvFyHq70FMFzWl3AO5HKz9GHYqcm9eZwzwiVGgEhYeg6nHc5Hrz-dsRsZ1bvTetMhTSMNAYoEhQWw/s1600/download.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pete & Colin</td></tr></tbody></table>The kids may have been well-meaning, nice people, who want to hang in a crowd Colin has described? Mass made Colin feel like he was in a cult with the <u style="font-weight: bold;">WAY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TOO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CHEERFUL</u> a people. Luckily. there were some <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u>impressive</u> students at <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> who were <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> cocky; but instead went about their way and work acting like cool, reasonable people. That included presidential candidate Pete Buttigieg, and other <u>well</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">known</u> people. What Colin realized by the end of freshman year was that he didn't <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">exactly</b> fit in anywhere at <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u>. Colin felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">lucky</u>, <u>isolated</u> and out of place.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvenOzLUKbkotPD3wYe2D-mURHMyjZhpiSED6NYsqABla_3-GR7w-TKlIC6oZWQc2XarDZ46iLVx-eULniisn1yXAU477AmlvTEuITCO5zYvKIet--XJzK1WZGrWb06YZglMA2KW8aP4U0XPg7jpB3OvCj-HlNgP7ymMRhQTLxeu-PvGOCR3tpoRdBQ/s646/lampoon.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="207" data-original-width="646" height="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvenOzLUKbkotPD3wYe2D-mURHMyjZhpiSED6NYsqABla_3-GR7w-TKlIC6oZWQc2XarDZ46iLVx-eULniisn1yXAU477AmlvTEuITCO5zYvKIet--XJzK1WZGrWb06YZglMA2KW8aP4U0XPg7jpB3OvCj-HlNgP7ymMRhQTLxeu-PvGOCR3tpoRdBQ/s320/lampoon.png" width="320" /></a></div>It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">bad</u> that Colin would wander the streets <u>alone</u> at 2 or 3 A.M.; then return to his dorm and write poetry. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Something Colin & I <u>deeply</u> have in common</i>. Colin would stay up <u>all</u>-<u>night</u> feeling <u style="font-weight: bold;">depressed</u> and then oversleep because <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> alarm could wake him up. Perhaps the 2 pizzas a night were a sign that something was wrong . Maybe he lacked <u style="font-weight: bold;">purpose</u> or any kind of community like he had growing up. Colin left for summer break and went home to Staten Island. The next year, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u> to find <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u> that would make him feel <u>less</u> isolated. Something he <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEPLY</u> cared about. <u>That</u> was the <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard Lampoon</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>The <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard Lampoon</u> is a place while aspiring comedy writers can spend all their free time with other aspiring comedy writers and try to make each other laugh. And it's one of the best places you can experiment as a comedy writer in print, because <u>NO</u> <u>ONE</u> would read the magazine. Everyone who got on staff was the outcast of their school; now they all found their niche'. For Colin, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> was an oasis at <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> where so many students were the ones who <u>heard</u> Colin was from Staten Island and ridiculed him. Whereas the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> was filled with all "<i>alternative needs</i>", you knew growing up who reads 100 books that <u>weren't</u> on the syllabus, Colin and the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> were nerds who felt like outcast even at a school <u>full</u> of nerds. And they <u>liked</u> it that way. Because within the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u>, a nerd could feel like a hug! The <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> is roughly half-female and was co-ed before <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> was. Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> heard of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> until he seen a flyer in his freshman dorm. After attending the introductory meeting, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> seen that it was the <u>only</u> thing he cares about doing in college. <u>Unfortunately</u>, it was <u style="font-style: italic;">Economics</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><u>Unfortunately</u>, it was really hard to get in. <u>Hundreds</u> of people apply every semester and usually <u>only</u> <u>3</u>-<u>or</u>-<u>4</u> writers get in. <u>Unlike</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> clubs at <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u>, this was <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u> merit-based. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter your</u> financial status or family relations. The writers names were disguised with fake names; so members vote <u>purely</u> on content, <u>not</u> the person submitting it. Getting accepted typically means writing <u>every</u> <u>day</u> for at least a year, sometimes 2-or-3. Colin wrote <u>30</u> pieces for his first semester and got <u>rejected</u>. The next semester, Colin wrote <u>50</u> pieces and was <u>rejected</u> <u>again</u>. You couldn't get published in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> unless you were a member; so Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OTHER</u> option /outlet for his writing. Colin had just <u>completed</u> a folder with <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">80</b> pieces of trash in it. It was weird to give feedback on his programs background.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8zuyQGtm0gdS_J5fPb5vV2ye9Fx2fA3SuTyLkq_3jtfd9BnQOWHXPCBROWpEMdkdcBsnlxRHvssiO97tYwvJaYGBsq57BjGfrewTFqfv6-YhP6wgUwoBPnAw5KrW-RGGwU3HzZ51FQPsflfuB1tpqQ6nKGbfWYLNOvqg63PEPco_YHRa53aq5gxLvQ/s4000/logo.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="4000" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8zuyQGtm0gdS_J5fPb5vV2ye9Fx2fA3SuTyLkq_3jtfd9BnQOWHXPCBROWpEMdkdcBsnlxRHvssiO97tYwvJaYGBsq57BjGfrewTFqfv6-YhP6wgUwoBPnAw5KrW-RGGwU3HzZ51FQPsflfuB1tpqQ6nKGbfWYLNOvqg63PEPco_YHRa53aq5gxLvQ/w200-h125/logo.png" width="200" /></a></div>When Colin's dad brought up that kid's in Colin's' class who started <u style="font-style: italic;">Facebook</u>; maybe Colin should've worked there? At the time, Colin <u>thought</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Facebook</u> was a fad going nowhere. Colin thought the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> money was in <u style="font-style: italic;">magazines</u>. Part of the Lore of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> is the building that housed the magazine. As much as Colin believes there is magic anywhere in the world, he believes there is magic in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWjolE2xusPZBlZqTDgXF07iVtdGqYNalA6OVU8IsY5e2k_if5rdEUVzu8li1utjhoSE1zgZVYgmqHbJDUmPwtgAYtgN_X9_VD8x0wMPf1xFLXZl6J3mlG2zvZ5GrNxhFb0w_L27JGLUXTE2ayW28SDdEt-6aZTnG7dn9NWl-pacewWzN2NhUVcIR9g/s400/snl.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWjolE2xusPZBlZqTDgXF07iVtdGqYNalA6OVU8IsY5e2k_if5rdEUVzu8li1utjhoSE1zgZVYgmqHbJDUmPwtgAYtgN_X9_VD8x0wMPf1xFLXZl6J3mlG2zvZ5GrNxhFb0w_L27JGLUXTE2ayW28SDdEt-6aZTnG7dn9NWl-pacewWzN2NhUVcIR9g/w200-h150/snl.webp" width="200" /></a></div>The 3RD time Colin applied, after 18 months of writing <u style="font-weight: bold;">constantly</u>, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">FINALLY</u> made it. When they told him he got in, it was the happiest moment of his life; thus far - before marriage and kids and the first time Colin felt he <u style="font-weight: bold;">belonged</u> somewhere. For a lot of them, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> was their <u style="font-weight: bold;">sanctuary</u>. Colin never wanted to leave the building and for the <u>most</u> part; he truly didn't. He spent 80 hours/weeks at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> and took an approach he would later take at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. Colin wrote <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> than anyone else due to wanting to improve himself <u>as</u> <u>fast</u> <u>as</u> he could. Colin submitted <u>dozens</u> of pieces for every issue, and even if a couple of them made it into the magazine, he was still learning from all of the rejections too. Colin kept a mental <u>positive</u> check to keep writing. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Don't worry about the result</i><b>. </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Just keep moving forward and keep improving</i><b>.</b> <u>Eventually</u>, a way higher percentage of what he wrote <u style="font-weight: bold;">actually</u> was <u>accepted</u>. Over the course of Colin's 2 1/2 years on staff he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">MORE</u> than <u>100</u> pieces published in the magazine (<i>maybe 2 of which <u>still</u> hold up</i>.) It was the <u>first</u> time Colin was willing to put <u style="font-weight: bold;">100%</u> of his effort into 1 single pursuit without <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of failing, because he <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> doing it so much that Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> <u>focus</u> on anything else. (<i style="font-weight: bold;">It's a <u>miracle</u> Colin graduated</i>.)</div><div><br /></div><div>There were also people who took the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u> and acted like <u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TOTAL</u> dickheads to one another in the name of comedy. Colin began <u>overthinking</u> things <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FAST</u>. And he regressed to the childhood he endured <u>once</u> before. Colin also became a lot more closed off <u>emotionally</u> because the culture of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> was surprisingly stoic and <u style="font-weight: bold;">severe</u>! <u style="font-weight: bold;">Never</u> let your guard down on the <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of joke exploitation; something Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> even <u>aware</u> of. But, it <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">was</b> just how everybody operated. They all <u style="font-weight: bold;">cared</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> about what they were doing, to the point that it alienated them from friends who weren't on the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u>. Colin even missed his grandfather's funeral to turn in his final submission when he was applying. It was/is sad and depressing to miss, but joining the magazine was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">MOST</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">URGENT</u> goal in his life and Colin was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> getting in the way. </div><div><br /></div><div>After Colin had worked his way up from staff writer to a "<i>mid-level position</i>". (<i>Colin was <u>literally</u> a janitor</i>,) he was elected president in his junior year, and the election took <u style="font-weight: bold;">14</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hours</u> to decide. That is <u>longer</u> than a U.S. Election for president - <u>DAMN</u>! <u>But</u>, if Colin <u>hadn't</u> joined a group with that kind of zealtry, he would <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> have developed as a writer as quickly as he did. When people ask Colin for advice about how to succeed in comedy, he suggests that they find people who <u>care</u> about comedy as much as they do, even to an unhealthy degree. More than anything, Colin <u>learned</u> that comedy could be an <u>actual</u> job. Growing up, Colin had <u>zero</u> exposure to show business. When he watched <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. or <u style="font-style: italic;">Letterman</u> as a kid, Colin understood that people were <u>involved</u> in the process of these shows and Colin wanted to be a part of it, <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> thinking <u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u> could be a <u style="font-weight: bold;">part</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvw_-5jfmavzSPPXNmta-UI5nOrxbi6ZQgL0BwCk6CMQ3hFA_FcRAKUxg-vObF69cnCgvnD9eQ9R8-CzwClGdnjXUgBa_7PJ6fSBRU_rO4V8PTfzWPPyKTkCFf1LgY3F86kpS1QreuzsMdJp8aK_6H42lvhxkPq7M72mx5_5E47nVyaPGoTgYdevXncQ/s612/gettyimages-856849336-612x612.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="612" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvw_-5jfmavzSPPXNmta-UI5nOrxbi6ZQgL0BwCk6CMQ3hFA_FcRAKUxg-vObF69cnCgvnD9eQ9R8-CzwClGdnjXUgBa_7PJ6fSBRU_rO4V8PTfzWPPyKTkCFf1LgY3F86kpS1QreuzsMdJp8aK_6H42lvhxkPq7M72mx5_5E47nVyaPGoTgYdevXncQ/w320-h269/gettyimages-856849336-612x612.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin and his grandfather<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>Everyone in Colin's family was a firefighter or worked for the city. So, <u>before</u> the <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u>, Colin's <u style="font-weight: bold;">DREAM</u> jobs were doctor, lawyer, pizza model or any city job that had a person. Colin's grandfather told him that the greatest thing you can have in life is a passion.</div><div><br /></div><div>Colin's first day at college <u>sophomore</u> year was September 11, 2001. He had <u>just</u> <u>left</u> New York the day before. Colin's best friend, Chris, and he were sharing a dorm room. Chris' mom called at 9:00A, 2 hours <u>before</u> Colin <u>planned</u> to wake up. It was through Chris' mom calling that Collin & Chris were informed of the world's events that day. <u>Normally</u>, Chris' mom worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">inside</u> the World Trade Center. And that day, she happened to get assigned to a <div style="text-align: left;">different station. Which was a miracle. Colin handed Chris their phone. What about Colin's mom; Dr. Kerry Kelly, was Chief Medical Officer for the NYFD for 24 years. </div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQgz1g64StDcYVErELUXgvcKjBEnuObUjmVHTwx_6MigH_vFmyoIpy9gNa9D80bWf5-ion-HEDgw4jcOxw_PO24V3VF9uaCZrCs0ldNJ_MZAktaKVxqsbOrbqzbrZYL7iuhFrSmM-mkFjyjevLyEy62GeCmme6IMtcF_yxoxMNuwWimW3t8qkKjiQcRA/s744/colin's%20mom.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="744" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQgz1g64StDcYVErELUXgvcKjBEnuObUjmVHTwx_6MigH_vFmyoIpy9gNa9D80bWf5-ion-HEDgw4jcOxw_PO24V3VF9uaCZrCs0ldNJ_MZAktaKVxqsbOrbqzbrZYL7iuhFrSmM-mkFjyjevLyEy62GeCmme6IMtcF_yxoxMNuwWimW3t8qkKjiQcRA/s320/colin's%20mom.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin and his mom, Kerry</td></tr></tbody></table>Colin asked his dad what he was thinking <u>that</u> <u>particular</u> morning? What he thought about his wife's whereabouts? He told his son that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> thought his mom could have gotten there before the towers fell. He did the same calculation that Colin had already done.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin and his father <u>both</u> had <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> faith in New York City traffic to worry about his Mom reaching Manhattan in time. Colin's brother, Casey, was in high school on Staten Island and could <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u> the smoke from the towers through his classroom window. Casey <u>didn't</u> worry about their mom; he was worried about his classmates parents who may have been close or involved. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">hardest</u> part of Kerry's job was informing families when a firefighter died in the line of duty. (<i style="font-weight: bold;">The call </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> wants from <u>either</u> end of the phone</i>.) Kerry <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> had to tell the <u>children</u> of victims <b><u>THE</u> <u>TRUTH</u>!</b> When a firefighter was injured, Kerry was <u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u> at the hospital for the families. Colin began to <u style="font-weight: bold;">describe</u> the details of the involvement within 9/11; offering help therein whenever <b><u>NEEDED</u>!</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">C</div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2T6PypW73pzJGDKEkjSwFzQ9FQ-_koK66-0Ks90tETCq3UdRAXKNwo7bz2PHhN5cVhZ7AdxmdAAiywW02G22fCJLNHoF7CpgDvSArD2qcpAr1mxVtoayIL_azh0jxt-c49uc4SEAy9RVluCFBbeDt7YjYtfk40ej5W7LLnYhmKS4R9B7hU3yiwQN13w/s1202/Colin-Jost-With-His-Mother.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2T6PypW73pzJGDKEkjSwFzQ9FQ-_koK66-0Ks90tETCq3UdRAXKNwo7bz2PHhN5cVhZ7AdxmdAAiywW02G22fCJLNHoF7CpgDvSArD2qcpAr1mxVtoayIL_azh0jxt-c49uc4SEAy9RVluCFBbeDt7YjYtfk40ej5W7LLnYhmKS4R9B7hU3yiwQN13w/w266-h400/Colin-Jost-With-His-Mother.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin and his mom, Kerry Jost</td></tr></tbody></table>Colin <u>still</u> has the e-mail from his dad, informing him that Kerry was <u>OK</u>! Kerry had gotten caught in the secondary collapse of the towers, but dug herself out and is okay. At some point, Kerry came home <u style="font-weight: bold;">covered</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">head</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">toe</u> in white ash. She showered, changed her clothes and went back to work. Kerry spent each day traveling between Ground Zero and the medical office, treating whomever needed help. She <u>endlessly</u> bandaged people only to realize they'd died. There are <u>multiple</u> reasons why Colin loves his mom: Colin loves that while she took <u>care</u> of her fire department family; she <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> neglected her <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> family. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> felt that she was absent or <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <b><u>not</u> </b><u>fully</u> present.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin loves his mom as a role model. Because of Kerry, Colin & Casey have <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> <u>twice</u> about ladies getting/having the same pay or <u>complete</u> independency with satisfying lives. Colin & Casey grew up to <u style="font-weight: bold;">expect</u> independency. Colin loves Kerry's <u style="font-weight: bold;">appreciation</u> for their dad, and how they rely on each other and help one another through hard times. She is the family planner for events.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Most of all, Colin loves how <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> Kerry is. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> as a mother, but just who his mother is as her own person. Kerry drove her up to visit her son at college in late October 2001. It was the <u>first</u> day she had taken off work since Sept. 11TH. Colin didn't know she was coming. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u> for a son to his mother. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXBpqPdlSE1PWNen0W5vc9XCv4kksD9ZmlQRRsdBUPLgzRw1QHgpN7VtmhmeF7yj3bNfvD4ZV45uT5gD2nxMTp0wP4c-XfU2QLhQRBAfjGJPc08QX626CWIfQsMn5PN_9cFsw16OADuiBIPF09dmQQvnW51hKJ2dQTrVeXAMSP-_hpeNPvwO9XBZi_g/s274/ak.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="184" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXBpqPdlSE1PWNen0W5vc9XCv4kksD9ZmlQRRsdBUPLgzRw1QHgpN7VtmhmeF7yj3bNfvD4ZV45uT5gD2nxMTp0wP4c-XfU2QLhQRBAfjGJPc08QX626CWIfQsMn5PN_9cFsw16OADuiBIPF09dmQQvnW51hKJ2dQTrVeXAMSP-_hpeNPvwO9XBZi_g/s1600/ak.jpeg" width="184" /></a></div>When Colin was in college, what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u> studied in college was <u style="font-style: italic;">The History & Literature of Russia and Britain</u>. Colin's love of Russia began in high school when he took a senior <u>elective</u> called "<i><u>Great European Novels</u></i>" and 3 of them were Russian - <u style="font-style: italic;">Anna Karenina</u>, <u style="font-style: italic;">Crime & Punishment</u>. <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Anna</i> was a <b><u>rough</u> </b>read due to <u>violently</u> <u>procrastinating</u>. (<i>As which is Colin's style in all aspects in life</i>.) Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">made</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">himself</u> read the <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> 864 page book in 3 days. (<i>I've <u>personally</u> been there</i>. <i>Striving to finish a book on Friday before being in the hospital or even a new week</i>.) Colin, <u><b>to</b></u> <b><u>this</u></b> <b><u>day</u></b>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> remember <u style="font-style: italic;">Anna</u> due to cramming to finish. The other 2 books were among Colin's <u style="font-weight: bold;">FAVORITES</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">OF</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TIME</u> and enticed him to <u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> to learn about Russian Literature. So, when Colin arrived at college, he abandoned his stated major - <u style="font-style: italic;">Economics</u> - and instead chose the <u style="font-weight: bold;">opposite</u> - Russian Books.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">For some reason, Colin''s teacher <u>encouraged</u> and helped him to get a grant from the department to go <u>live</u> in Russia for summer, with the goal of translating a short story. His parents, <u>understandably,</u> were a little <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u> about their son spending the summer <u style="font-weight: bold;">alone</u> in Russia. You <u style="font-weight: bold;">can't</u> say <u>NO</u> to <u>FREE</u> <u>Money</u>! Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">assured</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> would be <u style="font-weight: bold;">taken</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u> and arranged while Colin was there to his parents. What they failed to mention to Colin was that those that would've been in his company did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> speak <u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">word</u> of <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u>. Colin arrived in St. Petersberg with <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">directions</u>, only an address. This was <u>before</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u> maps. Colin found his way in halting Russian to their apartment. They opened the door, nodded at him, took him to his bedroom, nodded at the bedroom, nodded and then disappeared for 3 days.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin had a <u>careful</u> plan laid out for his time in St. Petersberg: He had no money to eat at restaurants (<i>and no one to eat with anyway</i>.) Colin would survive by going down to the grocery store every couple of days and buy some kind of "<i>pasta</i>" that was made from grain that was DC'd (<i>discontinued</i>) in the U.S. Then, he would buy these weird chunks of "<i>cheese</i>", with the consistency of Gouda and the flavor of wet baking soda. Colin went <u>so</u> stir-crazy at one point that he would write parodies of poems. That is where Colin was <u>mentally</u> broken. After weeks of descending into madness, Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">desperate</u> to meet <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANYONE</u><span style="font-weight: bold;">!</span> He did <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> meet a girl. A group of them. They were visiting from Spain and <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> speak <u><b>a</b></u> <b><u>word</u></b> of Russia. They became Colin's closest friends in St. Petersberg.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHlDJRHAUDNA9cmCmnsWFKOhunaPDMyTr3cMXUoo-aoPe0L2zDziDMI3GLJiMBICaHH8YXB_Jzt0av2mLdCwX16FSTv5kEODLyRWn07zyykopwpeYgnE0vUmpEAy4pl_WjFxUuC4SPeFtzFU07xXCwSn_7xgWFrAdoetMovjIHNAZuP4iuQzu28GrQg/s630/a.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="550" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheHlDJRHAUDNA9cmCmnsWFKOhunaPDMyTr3cMXUoo-aoPe0L2zDziDMI3GLJiMBICaHH8YXB_Jzt0av2mLdCwX16FSTv5kEODLyRWn07zyykopwpeYgnE0vUmpEAy4pl_WjFxUuC4SPeFtzFU07xXCwSn_7xgWFrAdoetMovjIHNAZuP4iuQzu28GrQg/w174-h200/a.jpg" width="174" /></a></div>Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> not to humiliate himself on the 3RD date. After meeting them at a bar, Colin was asked about <u style="font-style: italic;">Absinthe</u>. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> tried <u style="font-style: italic;">Absinthe</u> before, so naturally Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">lied</u> and it was his <u style="font-weight: bold;">FAVORITE</u> drink.</div><div style="text-align: left;">5 <u>tall</u> glasses of <u style="font-style: italic;">Absinthe</u> later, they were all dancing by the bar when Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> excuse himself. He went to the bathroom and <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> threw up <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u> the walls. Didn't even <u style="font-weight: bold;">come</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">close</u> to the toilet. Like a 360-Degree fire hose of vomit. Then, because Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u> his <u style="font-weight: bold;">DAMN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">mind</u>, he just went back to the dance floor and began to start dancing again like <u>nothing</u> had happened. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Roughly</u>, 20 seconds later, an employee came up to Colin and asked him what he had drank . . . Colin figured that he <u>couldn't</u> understand the man. Everyone <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> that Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">profusely</u> sweating and even paler than usual and knew that Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> well. Things were <u>smoothed</u> <u>out</u> with the manager and helped Colin <u>clean</u> <u>up</u> the bathroom. Colin was shivering and seeing ghosts. One of the women offered to take Colin home and even put her coat over him to <u>keep</u> him <u>warm</u> in the taxi.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin and this poor girl sat in a Russian taxi for 45 minutes waiting for the bridge to re-open. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sick</u> he didn't leave his bed for <u style="font-weight: bold;">3</u> days. People everywhere peeked in/out to check in on him. As soon as Colin recovered, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to head back to America <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> to this day felt so homesick in his life. Colin flew back home 2 days later, with 0.0% of the story being <u>translated</u>. As far as Colin can tell from a 10-second <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u> search, it <u>remains</u> untranslated, ready for the sake of Russian Literature. Before leaving for the airport, Colin laid out 7 teddy bears in <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard</u> in T-Shirts on the bed, as per requested.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When Colin graduated college, he was one of many out of work. His first instinct was to create a television show about college? <u>Guarenting</u> his residence without leaving. So, Colin and follow <u style="font-style: italic;">Lampoon</u> writer come up with an idea for a hidden camera show called <u style="font-style: italic;">Admissions Impossible</u>, which would involve them posing as alumni interviewers or college admissions officers in order to <u>trick</u> high school students into saying awful things during their interviews. <u>DAMN</u>! Were they monsters. . . nor a terrible idea for a show! Sadly, no one wanted to buy it. So, with no prospects and no skills, Colin got ahead of the millennial curve and moved back to his parents house and into his childhood bedroom. (<i>One of the </i><b style="font-style: italic;"><u>most</u> <u>humiliating</u> prospects one adult can go through</b>.) Once you hit adulthood from your childhood home; you feel like you're back in high school with a curfew. (DAMN! <i>That's Sad</i>.) There's something about moving back home after college that <u>loses</u> the respect you gained from your parents when you left. You live in their house; yet, they dare not speak your name in public; for fear of being questioned. There is something that makes you question past choices. (<i>Why in the fuck did I major in that</i>?) After a few weeks of <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXTREME</u> depression, Colin spoke to a group of friends from college who were <u>equally</u> miserable and unemployed. They decided to <u>all</u> move to Manhattan or Brooklyn or <u>wherever</u> they could get an apartment and <u>just</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">force</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">themselves</u> to become adults. Colin's parents were like NO! And then closed the door behind them and locked it!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin was living off his winnings from appearing on the game show <u style="font-style: italic;">The Weakest Link</u>, so his prize was only $6,000 (<i>a net of </i>$3,000 <i>after California taxes</i>.) In Manhattan, that was almost 2 months rent. Colin was <u>unfortunately</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">bad</u> at <u style="font-style: italic;">The Weakest Link</u>. So; a week after finally escaping Staten Island and moving to the city; Colin accepted a job at a local newspaper. . .back on Staten Island. Why? Due to no job prospects and due to Colin's college major biting him from behind.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzfAZ_TGxL6rtne4li7Kn90NEwpObhhjCVUPWaRHqcL_FQVHtp52wzhaX8zG2Pvr9G2VWnG5AA77vRhjaXvGkYyZL0Zm8JhZR2A9LUUR3-45Rx4aspPYZXdUmYRRdLOFHYdSK_VXfqTNCS7u8Pep4YLxJvNqdrPFjPGozrjGyU_wvzLPvzHkE_dzUGw/s200/sia.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzfAZ_TGxL6rtne4li7Kn90NEwpObhhjCVUPWaRHqcL_FQVHtp52wzhaX8zG2Pvr9G2VWnG5AA77vRhjaXvGkYyZL0Zm8JhZR2A9LUUR3-45Rx4aspPYZXdUmYRRdLOFHYdSK_VXfqTNCS7u8Pep4YLxJvNqdrPFjPGozrjGyU_wvzLPvzHkE_dzUGw/s1600/sia.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The only reason Colin even was offered the newspaper job was due to interning at the paper for 2 summers in high school and contributed for the "<i>Teen Section</i>"; while also being somewhat hard on himself with the position he was in. That job as team reporter led Colin to become editor-in-chief of his high school newspaper; <u style="font-style: italic;">The Owl</u>, where they published more issues of the paper than any other regime in years. Years - thanks to their <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HITTING</u> news. That led Colin joining <u style="font-style: italic;">The Harvard Crimson</u>'s editorial board; where he wrote memorable headliners and appointed op-ed's . Colin had a "<i>background</i>" in journalism, as much as anyone could. But, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> expected to bring <u>that</u> background into the foreground. The paper Colin worked at, <i><u>The Staten Island Advance</u></i> was actually an <u>amazing</u> newspaper with incredibly talented reporters and editors. The job was <u>fantastic</u>. Colin was a "<i>night editor</i>", which meant he did whatever random stuff hadn't been done before the papers went to press: rewriting articles, designing the layout for each section proofreading every page, and Colin's <u>favorite</u> task - writing headlines, whereas Colin came from a <u style="font-style: italic;">New York Post</u> tradition. Coming close to publication but to no secor. Colin also had to write stories from scratch if they came in overnight. And occasionally, Colin was sent out in the field as a crime reporter to cover "<i>breaking news</i>", from where he was located. One story led to a <u>second</u> front-page story the next day; about the outrage over raccoon enthusia on Staten Island. Which led Colin's Paw-lizer Prize. The weirdness of local news on Staten Island was one reason Colin <u>loved</u> the job. Colin learned <u>tons</u> from the senior editor who went on to more prestigious publications. Colin learned from them. His job at <u style="font-style: italic;">The Advance</u> had an incredible healthcare plan. Full vision and <u>dental</u>. Colin's even <u>tempted</u> to take advantage of it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENq6WE6hSOn7qx2Ly77X67JSsDya550gWDhvd9fqKf3oQBWT2n9LdRjGie5TSHe0AubY8lC2iwFpmAS0Z57zSne4st1yc0sQwLqX7m4DHFuN1YArmvt3COuFGkCGlDEs5IJf8c8FImg4rls-MnHSXJOf78i6Nbl7sjAxQwarOK5tzlwX4NOFeDoJwiw/s852/575c55ba2bc9b8c3e8663353e3c2f4d7--snl-colin-odonoghue.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENq6WE6hSOn7qx2Ly77X67JSsDya550gWDhvd9fqKf3oQBWT2n9LdRjGie5TSHe0AubY8lC2iwFpmAS0Z57zSne4st1yc0sQwLqX7m4DHFuN1YArmvt3COuFGkCGlDEs5IJf8c8FImg4rls-MnHSXJOf78i6Nbl7sjAxQwarOK5tzlwX4NOFeDoJwiw/s320/575c55ba2bc9b8c3e8663353e3c2f4d7--snl-colin-odonoghue.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>The downside to the job was Colin's shift. His shift went from 11P-8A; plus 1hr1/2 commute each way. Colin would be having dinner with his friends; depart from them and head to work. He would walk a mile to an express bus that took him to a local bus on Staten Island, which dropped him 1/2 mile from the newspaper. Colin left work at 8:00A every morning. He was in full New York City rush hour traffic back into Manhattan. As the world was getting up; Colin was losing his mind. He barely slept for 5 months he worked there, and he had <u>headaches</u> <u>all</u> <u>day</u>. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">larger</u> problem was that Colin wanted to be in <u>comedy</u>; <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> journalism. Colin spent <u>every</u> <u>free</u> minute at work compiling news stories he could for stand-up instead. Colin even saved up enough money to pay for 2 rent. He <u>quit</u> the newspaper and decided to put <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> he had into getting a job in comedy. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">While Colin was working the <u>overnight</u> shift at his local newspaper, he was spending his <u>days</u> applying to every television show he could think of - <u style="font-weight: bold;">except</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Saturday Night Live</u>! That was Colin's <u>dream</u> job, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> let himself consider it a <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCubwit-f_RjtKC8qcZGIQ8PK5XQOla7Xwe06e6xIn9jVXyy5x92Vd5HeOyok_un7hq3huW2hJYqTfLP2JgHZD5TrB2rn4hBHRzW9UOeLpTtJXTeYAHBnJx4KxQF22og4LVHkaoEyl9pOgBmuoN6B0anfj_2i8l2tG2KucPupl5A6HpAshB7CaSEDAQ/s655/911.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="655" height="62" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCubwit-f_RjtKC8qcZGIQ8PK5XQOla7Xwe06e6xIn9jVXyy5x92Vd5HeOyok_un7hq3huW2hJYqTfLP2JgHZD5TrB2rn4hBHRzW9UOeLpTtJXTeYAHBnJx4KxQF22og4LVHkaoEyl9pOgBmuoN6B0anfj_2i8l2tG2KucPupl5A6HpAshB7CaSEDAQ/s320/911.png" width="320" /></a></div><u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> possibility. Colin <u>knew</u> that getting a job <u>anywhere</u> in comedy was a crapshoot, and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to get a bunch of rejections under his belt before he could even <u style="font-weight: bold;">think</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u> applying to <u style="font-style: italic;">S</u><u>.</u><u style="font-style: italic;">N.L</u>. Plus, he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> how to actually apply. Colin didn't have an agency or management, so he looked up the mailing address for all these shows and wrote a cover letter begging them to read his submissions. He applied to <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERY</u> late-night production. He wrote a pilot with his friend, Chris, for a show called; <u style="font-style: italic;">The Back Room</u>, it was basically <u style="font-style: italic;">Reno 911</u>, but for the <u style="font-style: italic;">New York Fire Department</u>. Colin's dad, who for some reason, had a strong opinion about this show, kept telling his son that it should be like <u style="font-style: italic;">Barney Miller</u>; which Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> seen and thought it sounded like a department store.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLqiGbLOh63FWK9OFKIc0XUvHBrb72CEyLPxAyle_MOuozdJRKMRZ7sbpbCNj6widGg9JJ4FyTh9KKmUzKwn_InaIZS1xaBGRbQ6s9piSptyntJYNwtZxafomyJU2kCdTVjXFdQpfs9v9WpNWY8WR0RSyIO5Kq3fVJ6dXYRrCpJaVKQHtwNCJZMoJug/s200/ed.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCLqiGbLOh63FWK9OFKIc0XUvHBrb72CEyLPxAyle_MOuozdJRKMRZ7sbpbCNj6widGg9JJ4FyTh9KKmUzKwn_InaIZS1xaBGRbQ6s9piSptyntJYNwtZxafomyJU2kCdTVjXFdQpfs9v9WpNWY8WR0RSyIO5Kq3fVJ6dXYRrCpJaVKQHtwNCJZMoJug/s1600/ed.png" width="200" /></a></div>The problem with writing a pilot as an <u>unknown</u> writer was that Colin had <u>nowhere</u> to send it. He couldn't just mail it to <u style="font-style: italic;">HBO</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">especially</b> masked. So, Colin, along with his friend, Chris, rewrote their pilot a few times, then e-mailed it to a couple of friends, whom were of no help; so they moved on! At this point, Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">desperate</u> to write <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> for <u style="font-weight: bold;">anyone</u> that he began inventing fake anecdotes and mailing them to <u style="font-style: italic;">Reader's Digest</u> for their "<i><u>Life's Like That</u></i>" section. They were supposed to be <u>true</u>, first-person, humorous stories - due to the lack of excitement. Colin made it up. Bullshit his way through it. <u style="font-weight: bold;">15</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">+</u> years later, nothing on a computer <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> disappears. After a few faded stories, Colin was writing his way through.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGyxyqh1tYtVKV5oJNLtDnumpdcmHioO-NsMy7Rq1qo0P_2z7xVdpwsA8rD82_TMoZtLlzEArBJ0s2vpklat7IRXYgi0fEsPqSklVY3hKbE8Gg_Tk4teaXXgayFRsl0WGcI6A52sIVIPmny9wdHQPSVitLt1N21AXLhDVcZp28d_aMGXrSG932v0Lng/s960/p183878_b_h10_ag.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGyxyqh1tYtVKV5oJNLtDnumpdcmHioO-NsMy7Rq1qo0P_2z7xVdpwsA8rD82_TMoZtLlzEArBJ0s2vpklat7IRXYgi0fEsPqSklVY3hKbE8Gg_Tk4teaXXgayFRsl0WGcI6A52sIVIPmny9wdHQPSVitLt1N21AXLhDVcZp28d_aMGXrSG932v0Lng/s320/p183878_b_h10_ag.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Finally, Colin applied to <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. in November, which he later found out was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXACT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WRONG</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TIME</u> to apply. Apparently, production <u>only</u> <u>accepted</u> submissions <u>in</u> <u>the</u> <u>summer</u>. When the show is on-hiatus, Colin had to wait until June to resubmit. In the meantime, out of all of the shows Colin had applied to, <u>only</u> one responded. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Late Show With David Letterman</u>. This was <u>particularly</u> exciting for Colin because <u style="font-style: italic;">Letterman</u> was a hero of Colin's. When he was in 6TH grade, he had convinced their teacher to let them re-create <u style="font-style: italic;">The Late Show</u> at the beginning of every <u style="font-style: italic;">History</u> class. Colin would read <u>several</u> of the TOP 10 lists from 1-out-of-4 in full books of TOP 10 lists that Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> his dad to buy him. They would then re-write their <u>favorite</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. sketches. Some were deemed inappropriate for the Catholic middle school.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHdmqXM6iuNcGAW2lhkeyHUMmM2UXtcK8S5i32q80CInV0elEqEUcQthBiOinqYUuZaGj2cCFCIOXBsz_zuP3hT2Fe86i64c2KciKLO6Lxen2yKpnVQiUlih2bdheu934EBvF8f_XCouggZpuylV8TlTQmeEJtJ-tHs6FOfTUEkKX3YscIFNUYr9H6Q/s640/1eb1d95ddbc24c02d53fb7dee9e8b376_640x640.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHdmqXM6iuNcGAW2lhkeyHUMmM2UXtcK8S5i32q80CInV0elEqEUcQthBiOinqYUuZaGj2cCFCIOXBsz_zuP3hT2Fe86i64c2KciKLO6Lxen2yKpnVQiUlih2bdheu934EBvF8f_XCouggZpuylV8TlTQmeEJtJ-tHs6FOfTUEkKX3YscIFNUYr9H6Q/w200-h200/1eb1d95ddbc24c02d53fb7dee9e8b376_640x640.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The teacher had cut them off when delving off-script when launching into audio of Adam Sandler's game show. Their show was <u>so</u> popular within the 6TH grade community that a <u>school</u>-<u>wide</u> assembly in the gymnasium. (<i>It was </i><b style="font-style: italic;"><u>by</u> <u>far</u> </b><i>Colin's <u>finest</u> hour in the gymnasium</i>.) The event was a <b><u>HIT</u>!</b> Mostly due to <u>no</u> <u>original</u> material. But, that <u>didn't</u> <u>stop</u> them celebrating afterward with a round of <u style="font-style: italic;">Ecto Coolers</u>. So, when the head writers at <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Letterman</i>'s show actually liked his submissions, Colin seen the books <u>truly</u> paid off. Colin was asked to submit a 2ND packet that should've been "<i>similar to the first he done</i>; <i>but better</i>" and Colin was able to work, still thinking it was an <b><u>extremely</u></b> long shot. Letterman had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORY</u> of hiring people who sent in submissions, even if they were mentally unstable or untested. . .Making Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">love</u> Letterman <u>even</u> <u>more</u>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, Colin put together a 2ND submission and they <u>liked</u> it enough that Colin was called in for an interview with the head writers. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> how <u style="font-weight: bold;">stressful</u> and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">exhausting</u> it was to work on a nightly show like that, due to disruption <b><u>every</u> <u>5</u> </b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">minutes</u> for a <u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u> re-write. Colin <u>did</u> <u>not</u> get the job. But, he does still receive a Christmas card from them every year, which was <u>well</u> <u>worth</u> the rejection. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiA8Q7fw1hI8BZfj3ZmmvN_cPqG1gaSKf5hI4c7UYll_pkg-snVJqEr2PKrZv8KsRMIpZTOaU9xzW7M-WksLvNmc4Y6NHe14cgnENnczfZPxrf6PnAHA-ZGvr5Qqxok6fwEE2FBZCjbtbul3nrSHODxGdrJj6spLD2YBmZPWjNbCjhKeF2FmYCJz2nDg/s2716/kappa.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2303" data-original-width="2716" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiA8Q7fw1hI8BZfj3ZmmvN_cPqG1gaSKf5hI4c7UYll_pkg-snVJqEr2PKrZv8KsRMIpZTOaU9xzW7M-WksLvNmc4Y6NHe14cgnENnczfZPxrf6PnAHA-ZGvr5Qqxok6fwEE2FBZCjbtbul3nrSHODxGdrJj6spLD2YBmZPWjNbCjhKeF2FmYCJz2nDg/s320/kappa.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>A couple of months later, Colin took a job writing for a <u>new</u>-defunct animation company called <u style="font-style: italic;">Animation Collective</u>. Colin and 3 of his friends were hired to write 26 half-hour episodes of a <u>new</u> show for <u style="font-style: italic;">Nickelodeon</u> called <u style="font-style: italic;">Kappa Mikey</u> that eventually aired on <u style="font-style: italic;">NickToons</u>. The title was a play on <u style="font-style: italic;">Kappamaki</u>, which is apparently a type of sushi. Colin and his friends were <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> to have written a job <u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">kind</u> even though they endured what in retrospect were <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">illegal</b> working conditions on <u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> levels. Their offices were <u>also</u> their boss's apartment. They'd find condoms on the floor and have to feign <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to <u>see</u> them. Certain employees would have to take breaks from work so their boss could dress them up in <u>old</u> costumes and have them pose for a photo-shoot on the roof.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiM9d0VVjeJxOuyprlIYyKzNoZIq8rb3bJMqgeRUBS1ogfVuhZXM-qOarNxmsjW5WyManrgE7gZ5VweC4CgZi4ynEEm7KSiOk4Eg_7NlxiWPvHmDhXjQjr2fNra09n8QihwzGAHTsCb5E7zpj9WCeYeCq6EsQnQDpMa6ahyMk5Zkdl23svGlUo9M6s-Q/s668/variety.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="193" data-original-width="668" height="92" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiM9d0VVjeJxOuyprlIYyKzNoZIq8rb3bJMqgeRUBS1ogfVuhZXM-qOarNxmsjW5WyManrgE7gZ5VweC4CgZi4ynEEm7KSiOk4Eg_7NlxiWPvHmDhXjQjr2fNra09n8QihwzGAHTsCb5E7zpj9WCeYeCq6EsQnQDpMa6ahyMk5Zkdl23svGlUo9M6s-Q/s320/variety.png" width="320" /></a></div>The good news was that they had <u>because</u> professional writers, even though Colin was making a lower hourly wage than when he was lifeguarding at age 15. When you're starting out, <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> credit is <u>good</u> credit. You can tell people you're working in entertainment, even though you're actually working on a madman's fever dream. <u style="font-style: italic;">Variety</u> called <u style="font-style: italic;">Kappa Mikey</u>; "<i>a cacophony of sights, sounds and ambition interspersed with some relatively clever writing</i>."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then Colin got a call from one of the associate producers at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. after he <u style="font-weight: bold;">properly</u> and <u>finally</u> submitted a sketch packet. They wanted Colin to arrive and meet with Tina Fey & Andrew Steele, their 2 head-writers. <u>Chances</u> were of a meeting with Lorne Michaels. Colin's first immediate question was what to wear? Meeting with Tina & Andrew was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> intimidating than with Lorne, because he seemed that they were the ones <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> making decisions with the writers who got hired. Colin's instinct was to wear a suit because Colin thought that was what adults wore to a job interview, but luckily his friends convinced him that could look desperate, so Colin wore jeans and a button-down shirt and tried to act "<i>normal</i>".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_Lt9AexIfb6YLV0ZCPURw7mZ6NpoVyh7qcArjwAKYDyaImfs4hDRBoa7vNUr3n40kCJ4wan9sUj15aODoiNVr4Zhu16eUfqwmDU-kcP5Ev-1cvMWB1XKDt06dBXC6r4zr26YGySXiwo7kMWUZkYG9W8NL6SXHcs7HJBfKQ9YY12ZosrgQ8m70tTNOQ/s1136/55afb6a62acae70f008b8e12.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1136" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_Lt9AexIfb6YLV0ZCPURw7mZ6NpoVyh7qcArjwAKYDyaImfs4hDRBoa7vNUr3n40kCJ4wan9sUj15aODoiNVr4Zhu16eUfqwmDU-kcP5Ev-1cvMWB1XKDt06dBXC6r4zr26YGySXiwo7kMWUZkYG9W8NL6SXHcs7HJBfKQ9YY12ZosrgQ8m70tTNOQ/s320/55afb6a62acae70f008b8e12.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Colin found out later that they <u>weren't</u> expecting him to be funny <u>during</u> the interview. They were just making sure Colin <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">wasn't</b> a crazy person. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> contain himself. He just <u>had to avoid</u> busting into hysterics. Colin managed to <u>survive</u> the interview without doing <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u>, and was told by one of Lorne's assistant's that Lorne would like to see Colin. Hanging out and waiting at the office, Colin met and found out whom was being hired onto the cast. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> it at the time, but that would be the group, consisting of Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig, he started with and would spend <u>80</u> hours/week with for the next decade. 6 Hours Later, Colin met with Lorne Michaels; (<i>which Colin</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6LBH0jaQdoBwb1MzgFnPSUwqKrP2TdGLKvd8S3DUy5nY2-DzC-DVoTRsinIY7lT3CpWKmqIliveTMW2TKZwqTxGfEAu1eUEZjm6AngHzaylZY7PwJmeAbaHmFHDzgImymergw-oCAXHgwqG1eqSusxp9gITD-8sBdIXfYoCGo7CAHRL09sGz0PVVUw/s400/EAXAS1hWwAAs31b.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="400" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ6LBH0jaQdoBwb1MzgFnPSUwqKrP2TdGLKvd8S3DUy5nY2-DzC-DVoTRsinIY7lT3CpWKmqIliveTMW2TKZwqTxGfEAu1eUEZjm6AngHzaylZY7PwJmeAbaHmFHDzgImymergw-oCAXHgwqG1eqSusxp9gITD-8sBdIXfYoCGo7CAHRL09sGz0PVVUw/s320/EAXAS1hWwAAs31b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>would've waited 6 Days</i>.) </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When Colin entered, Lorne was on a computer arranging talent. They sat in 2 chairs facing each other, and Lorne questioned Colin on his life and experience as an <u style="font-style: italic;">SNL</u> viewer. Colin's cast that he watched the <u style="font-weight: bold;">MOST</u> growing up with the 90s cast. Colin <u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> he blew the interview before mentioning his <u>genuine</u> love of Dana Carvey. After another 5 minutes of discussion, Lorne paused and asked Colin if he therein had any questions?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Somehow, Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> prepared for this portion of the interview questions. In the midst of the moment, Colin panicked and asked where <u style="font-style: italic;">Lorne</u> was from? Colin felt like a dumbass; but Lorne responded <u>honestly</u>. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">sounded</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">like</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> where/what Lorne was talking about. The interviews went off great; but it left Colin feeling <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u>, <u>None</u> of Lorne's assistants or the producers at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. knew what Lorne meant by that either, so they <u>quarantined</u> Colin in one of the writers offices while they figured it all out. 30 minutes later, the phone in the office rang. It was the producers of the show. . . within minutes, Colin was <b><u>OFFICIALLY</u></b> hired. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u> that Colin didn't even process the weirdness of being hired at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>.; but somehow he was hired <u>over</u> <u>the</u> <u>phone</u>. Colin was able to start the job the next/following day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiye-LTeylZc0L7t-nMEC6WlOxFlNKBmLZe1pMYbaeyHcNDBcvudh1I2-nRke7zK6kvQEeHZfIyLNS6IFh138paLNGOn_DufBIzCllpefJprJzCbwqTez2eqU0W0FUP2kA7C_9yqUFy0C5mbhO8fkkWcPOTrwds0aZHxCCXQIH13CLWVt6L1Ox8xQ2idg/s250/Jost-44.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="141" data-original-width="250" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiye-LTeylZc0L7t-nMEC6WlOxFlNKBmLZe1pMYbaeyHcNDBcvudh1I2-nRke7zK6kvQEeHZfIyLNS6IFh138paLNGOn_DufBIzCllpefJprJzCbwqTez2eqU0W0FUP2kA7C_9yqUFy0C5mbhO8fkkWcPOTrwds0aZHxCCXQIH13CLWVt6L1Ox8xQ2idg/w320-h181/Jost-44.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Colin was <u>22</u> when he was hired at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. His first show was guest Steve Carell. As first guests go, that <u>seemed</u> like a pretty outstanding lineup. Considering the events in the 2000s, prior to Colin's joining. There was no "<i>ramping up</i>" when you start at the show. It didn't help that the Walls of <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. are <u>covered</u> with photos from someone of the <b><u>best</u> </b>sketches <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> the show's <b><u>HISTORY</u>!</b> So, while Colin wrote what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> was a <b><u>TERRIBLE</u> </b>sketch, he looked up and seen a framed portrait for Chevy Chase as the Land Shark. It would be like an artist painting <u>inside</u> the <u style="font-style: italic;">Museum Pf Modern Art</u> halfway thinking otherwise.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TFz6mNIj1wuF0CuRfRx91Y1iUv5QWDUjyZX40wMqaMfPRXgB0RCWVT1rfmBzMYCzWzT0wa8Jql3WjBy2o-g6bmvO0_7LDwlBlQvmlKw98bIX4h5KhFdjB1NdQVV38cgTgUFxdsKlJp70sJAqAyIOsXZc_FvYy10V8PRJTY181xJDGdKAOhGAEVfxIg/s380/jet.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="380" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TFz6mNIj1wuF0CuRfRx91Y1iUv5QWDUjyZX40wMqaMfPRXgB0RCWVT1rfmBzMYCzWzT0wa8Jql3WjBy2o-g6bmvO0_7LDwlBlQvmlKw98bIX4h5KhFdjB1NdQVV38cgTgUFxdsKlJp70sJAqAyIOsXZc_FvYy10V8PRJTY181xJDGdKAOhGAEVfxIg/w200-h105/jet.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>When you're starting out, you're trying to write a "<i>great</i>" sketch. You're just hoping to get something funny on T.V. and <u>not</u> be fired. Colin's first week, he pitched about a <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u> news story, where a <u style="font-style: italic;">JetBlue</u> plane had to make an emergency landing and the passengers were <u style="font-weight: bold;">watching</u> coverage of their <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">own</b> plane crash on the <u style="font-style: italic;">JetBlue</u> screens.(<i>Luckily</i>, <i>the plane landed <u>safely</u></i>) People liked the idea. It made the show. . . What was the <u>first</u> sketch after the monologue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, Colin had written the <u>first</u> sketch for his <u>first</u> show at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>., which Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> realize at the time, which is <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">rare</u>. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">fact</u>, in the <u>15+</u> years that Colin has written for the show, he's only had the <u>first</u> sketch post monologue a couple of times. Colin was warned <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> to let <u>any</u> joys get to his head. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">PURELY</u> took it to <b><u>HEART</u>!</b> It was a Puritanical pattern he would follow for the <b><u>rest</u> </b>of his career at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. If Colin had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u> week, he would <u>enjoy</u> it on Sunday, then <u>forget</u> about it on Monday.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> underrated aspects of the show - <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Colin</u> - how a strange time capsule of frame at that moment in time. There are some giant VHS tapes outside Lorne's office with labels of the 80s and 90s and it's like joke combinations you wouldn't see elsewhere. <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> is the show in a nutshell. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREATS</u> with the <b><u>FORGOTTEN</u>! </b>Why would I work elsewhere?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In August 2007, Colin received various calls about a trip to Scandinavia for a week. The <u>plan</u> was Copenhagen and <u style="font-weight: bold;">various</u> other places. Would Colin like to join? Answer: When is he to be there? The next morning. <u>Sure</u>! Colin had little else to do <u>outside</u> work. Colin packed whatever he needed for August in Scandinavia and flew to Denmark on a whim without planning ahead. Colin arrived at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Copenhagen Airport</u> and wondered which train reunited him with friends? This was <u>after</u> his first 2 seasons at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>., so Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">saved</u> a little money, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> liked spending it due to being <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</u> it would disappear. When he met up with everyone, they were met up on high-end men's clothing store near the hotel. Colin's company was suggesting he get one of the <b><u>FANCY</u></b> suits. Up to this point, Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> spent than $40 on a shirt. Colin just believe in spending money on a shirt serving the same practical purposes as an $80 shirt...<i>if it works...it works</i>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, the first thing Colin did in Copenhagen was blow $400 in a whole-button shirt and a really thin black-tie that Colin still had to wear with his jeans from college. After paying for them, Colin realized he was <u>fucking</u> <u>tricked</u>. <i><u>They</u></i> weren't purchasing anything. <u>Fuckers</u>. Similar to ones tricking you to try something they haven't all done before. That night, Colin put on what he just bought during the day. They all got on bicycle's they'd rented to cruise around the city. Biking in a strange city and drinking Danish liquors = what could go wrong!? On the way to the club, they were hiking past a state park with a huge quarter-pipe for skateboarding tricks and Colin watched as a friend of his tricked out. Colin had the jump at <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">speed</u>, but instead of ''j<i>umping</i>"; the bike chipped the top of the ramp and <u style="font-weight: bold;">violently</u> flipped Colin forward onto the concrete. Colin ripped open his $250 shirt and was now bleeding through his <u>white</u> shirt onto his $150 tie (<i>which was <u>too</u> <u>thin</u> to use as a tourniquet</i>) Colin was lying on the pavement waiting for applause/audience. Instead, it was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">opposite</u>. One thing is that Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">HATES</u> to disrupt a good time. So, after he stood up and seen that he was <u style="color: red;">bleeding</u>. . . .Colin <u>tried</u> to <u>play</u> <u>it</u> <u>cool</u>. He got back on his (<i>now dented</i>) bike and caught up to group like nothing was wrong or happened. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWSA-SQoNDCcUbjvck6mpikeaYLPcs_DsqEbeNlRuw5P1xpgbq2xqGcBszN60Qqgis9SNuoUVq6TqJJa_gv95-4NGMs2MoNZ5ev662uGjPdrVWPGUjSROowpde2fgWWBKRVco_uo3vNvhnfGTIbeHhWO-uFdbiRLd-_O7Q0fOX3qys-cMFh8z38wuzg/s265/download.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="190" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJWSA-SQoNDCcUbjvck6mpikeaYLPcs_DsqEbeNlRuw5P1xpgbq2xqGcBszN60Qqgis9SNuoUVq6TqJJa_gv95-4NGMs2MoNZ5ev662uGjPdrVWPGUjSROowpde2fgWWBKRVco_uo3vNvhnfGTIbeHhWO-uFdbiRLd-_O7Q0fOX3qys-cMFh8z38wuzg/w143-h200/download.jpeg" width="143" /></a></div>The other group wondered how Colin came to bleed? Some "<i>dumb-fuck guy lie</i>" fell out of Colin's mouth stating he was fine. Hurting his ribs in the process. Still wondering about their plans later to continue their fun. Colin's first experience in a Danish nightclub was getting Semi-Strips on his ribs from a first-aid kit aided by a friend's sister and bandaged him up in the bathroom while they did shots of <u style="font-style: italic;">GamelDansk</u> which was the closest to a pain reliever. Once he was patched up, Colin being a 24-yr-old kid whom was bandaged up wondered where the <u>ladies</u> were at? </div><div style="text-align: left;"> mile m</div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin had met a cute Danish girl at the bar and they began talking and then dancing and at some point began making out. (<i>Maybe his blood-soaked shirt was worth it</i>) Colin wondered if they should go back to <u>his</u> place? (<i>A hotel room with 2 twin beds that you're sharing with a co-worker</i>.) On his <u>bicycle</u> they went. Only this time, Colin was bleeding and on his bike pedaling, standing up while a Danish girl he just met seated behind him, <u style="font-weight: bold;">holding</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dear</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u>. It was a <u>full</u> <u>30</u> minute bike ride. By the time they arrived at his hotel, Colin could sense <u>her</u> enthusiasm waning. It was after hours and Colin this Danish girl <u>tried</u> to return to his hotel. He noticed a sign that said "<i>After Hours. Ring Bell For Doorman</i>." So, Colin rang and rang the bell. And things were further escalated, the Danish girl (<i>understandably</i>) lost interest in <u>anything</u> <u>remotely</u> romantic. So, they went back to the club.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The second 30 minutes of a bike ride return felt a lot slower than the first (<i>when sex was still a possibility</i>) By the time they arrived, Colin was exhausted and <u style="font-weight: bold;">stone</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">cold</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sober</u>. They said goodbye to one another. Colin went back into the club and found all of his friends still drinking and dancing, so Colin re-joined them. Back at it once again to the bar and the ladies. Colin met a <u>2ND</u> Danish girl. He usually has <b><u>ABSOLUTELY</u></b> <b><u>NO</u></b> game whatsoever, but his <span style="color: red;">bloody</span> shirt gave him a vote of confidence. Colin and this young lady began talking, and then dancing and then kissing. The next thing Colin knows is that the next Danish girl he was talking to was the <u>sister</u> of the <u>first</u> girl he was talking to. Talk about finding yourself in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">tough</u> spot in Copenhagen. Their next stop was to Helsinki, Finland.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A very exciting day in Helsinki where one of Colin's friends wanted to run a rumored marathon. Colin and his friends waited around the 15 mile mark to cheer him on. They ran into the street and jogged along with him for about 1,000ft. before putting him on the back, already winding from a 15 second jog. As the marathon continued, Colin and his friends ventured to the water station where they were giving marathoners cups of water, and they each grabbed a cup of water due to thirst from running 1,000ft. That night, Colin and his friends went out to celebrate in a Scandinavian style - over drinking to a point of near death. Colin volunteered to be a friend's wing-man. He walked up to a lovely Finnish lady. .. putting himself in a dumbass guy situation for a friend. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">does</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u> why he introduced his friend as Gerald Ford, Jr. Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">sure</u> it would seal the deal for his friend. It had the <u style="font-weight: bold;">opposite</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>effect. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">believed</u> their lie. That Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> was Gerald Ford, Jr. This woman proceeded to go on a <b><u>GIANT</u> <u>TIRADE</u>!</b> that escalates for quite some time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1SZYIAOQe5_utFuuM2Vrt92eV4xrwyfbNN6GGkFyukdPMA57lKJbw6x3XS2qRlG8IAhA3_YHrbMS8VSaId36LILpYnBPGo0DfbQkIQo9eXlP7FFZlpByRprEp_r-1XuNZsNKJIMCSTvf842fSYgfuQZCEdg8EG3oQfv9sZHQW5NYIjNofo2gItd8dw/s1200/cj.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="1200" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl1SZYIAOQe5_utFuuM2Vrt92eV4xrwyfbNN6GGkFyukdPMA57lKJbw6x3XS2qRlG8IAhA3_YHrbMS8VSaId36LILpYnBPGo0DfbQkIQo9eXlP7FFZlpByRprEp_r-1XuNZsNKJIMCSTvf842fSYgfuQZCEdg8EG3oQfv9sZHQW5NYIjNofo2gItd8dw/s320/cj.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Colin, being a <b><u>truly</u> <u>stand</u>-<u>up</u> </b>guy, took <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">responsibility</u> for the whole caused by tip-toeing away to stop drinking. (<i>Something Colin often does for self-preservation</i>). Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> anyone of his departure. He just wandered off <u>alone</u>, and decided to walk <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> back to the hotel at 2 A.M. through a city he'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> been through <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEFORE</u>, with a street sign in a language Colin couldn't read. Then, about halfway to the hotel, Colin got <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sleepy</u>. Colin is the kind of person who, once he gets sleepy, <u>cannot</u> stop himself from falling asleep on whatever surface or food his next to him; including falling asleep twice cradling a tray of buffalo wings like a body pillow. During his first year at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>., Colin went out with the cast to a dinner at 7:00A (<i>after the after after party</i>) and fall asleep at the table with his face on a hamburger, earning him the nickname, "<i>Burger Jost</i>". Colin began looking around for a viable "<i>mattress</i>" and saw a nearby park with grass that seemed ideal for a 2A.M. nap. He lay down in the park with his jacket as a pillow and fell asleep to the distant, soothing sounds nearing him. When he woke up, Colin realized he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> fallen asleep/crashed in a graveyard. . . there goes his "<i>nap</i>". </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin reacted to this by his usual Colin Kelley Jost grace by running <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">speed</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> of the graveyard while slapping the spiders off of himself. Colin ran the rest of the way to the hotel, went up to his friend's room and knocked on the door. Colin, in a <u style="font-style: italic;">freaked</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">out</u> manner, explained his situation. . .sleeping for 6 hours (<i>Like he knows</i>). Colin's friend let him into his room and spent the next 5 minutes lovingly building Colin a crash pad using materials from their own beds. In the morning, Colin was awoken to be taken on a tripping boat to Amsterdam with his friends. Colin was in a feverish semi-coma spending the following 3 days in bed while his friends toured their surroundings.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After Colin's first season or 2 as a writer (<i>once he felt semi-confident</i> <i>that he wouldn't be <u>immediately</u> fired</i>) he had a couple of years of unmittigated joy at the show. Colin was 25 at the time, and he was getting written sketches on the air regularly, but he didn't have <u>any</u> serious responsibility yet. Colin could write whatever he wanted, even flights of fancy . . . including a game show sketch for Bradley Cooper called "<u style="font-style: italic;">I'm Gonna Have Sex With Your Wife</u>!" Colin never had to worry about scrambling to write the <u>open</u> it at midnight on a Friday. He rarely had to figure out a monologue for the host. Colin could just write whatever came to him mentally that week. Most of the cast & writers were <u>young</u> enough to match the hours of the show that <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> bothered Colin. He didn't make a <u>single</u> party or after party for at least his <u>first</u> <u>5</u> years. The cast would stay out until 9:00A every <u>night</u> after the show, then go to bed (<i>or a casual breakfast</i>) sleep for <u>most</u> of Sunday, and <u>start</u> <u>all</u> <u>over</u> <u>again</u> on Monday morning. Colin was also running on <u>pure</u> adrenaline from doing what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> wanted to do; Colin always wanted to work at and hang out with really funny friends whom were single and didn't want to go home. Then he had to become "<i>responsible</i>".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin remembers when he found out that he was becoming head writer because it was <u>one</u> of his <u style="font-weight: bold;">proudest</u> achievements and it happened to involve one of Colin's <u>closest</u> friends. Colin was asked to <u>join</u> Seth Meyers to head write the next upcoming season. Seth surprised Colin with the gift of a <u>really</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">expensive</u> pen. The only pen Colin owned that <u>wasn't</u> lifted from a hotel room. The idea of being a head writer was always a distant goal of Colin's . They've always had <u>successful</u> writers on the show; but <b><u>never</u></b> become <u style="font-weight: bold;">head</u> writer. Being in company was a perk of those before him . . .the downside was the <b><u>OVERWHELMING</u> </b> part of the job in ways Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> expect.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One Wednesday after a table read, Colin was called Lorne's office to discuss which sketches were to be picked. On the way there, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">suddenly</u> felt like he was having a heart attack. (<i>Most likely anxiety. . .like you're being called into the principal's office.</i>) Colin's heart was racing and skipping beats. He didn't know what to do. He lay down on the couch outside Lorne's office and his assistant called for a doctor. Colin's heart palpitations were brought on by a combination of stress and <u style="font-weight: bold;">staying</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">awake</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">40</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Hours</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">straight</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">week</u>. Living on pizza and <u style="font-weight: bold;">BULK</u> candy. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <b><u>REALIZE</u> </b>the show was <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> of <u>his</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">control</u>. Colin worked with what he <u>could</u>. He wrote sketches the <u>best</u> he could open for that week. The point was to control was he could. The <u>rest</u> was out of Colin's hands and into Lorne's. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> was that if there were <u>great</u> writers on staff (<i>and a great cast</i>), Colin would look like a great writer. If the writers were so-so, then you better find new writers <u>fast</u> or they're gonna find a new you. The only thing you can do is <u>lead</u> <u>by</u> <u>example</u>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbCP0NJ4IGBOv12YyqoTSi8Bh4SilQiR18sW5krmikFGYZtsN2qAWAirVuFSoq2vDeth5_vGgkbxpnT0Zipr0JDSgnUoRc21A5HQdlLhZSXb954fIW6WZIGpXYdKaOsiO8Uv-8pDGdhAJLefAvFjjnTdPgm9YVklZeq0nOuxwffrnZYUXG4H6Wiz4Dw/s1284/colin-jost-weekend-update-snl.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="1284" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbCP0NJ4IGBOv12YyqoTSi8Bh4SilQiR18sW5krmikFGYZtsN2qAWAirVuFSoq2vDeth5_vGgkbxpnT0Zipr0JDSgnUoRc21A5HQdlLhZSXb954fIW6WZIGpXYdKaOsiO8Uv-8pDGdhAJLefAvFjjnTdPgm9YVklZeq0nOuxwffrnZYUXG4H6Wiz4Dw/s320/colin-jost-weekend-update-snl.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Colin was head writer for 3 years, then he took 2 years <u>off</u> to <u>basically</u> <u>survive</u> on <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>. Then, Lorne asked Michael Che and Colin to be head writers with others. They've done it ever since. When Colin was promoted with Che, his pay and earnings were still the same.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The reason Colin began doing stand-up was because of a club in the East Village called <u style="font-style: italic;">Riffi</u>. Colin went to see shows there when he first moved to NewYork after college, and it was the <u>first</u> time Colin seen <u>young</u> comics whom were <u>truly</u> funny, <u>truly</u> smart and <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">afraid</u> to try weird material and fail. When he <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AbAkLSiusiZ_QgzAh7pnaQ15U4tnzfl56ePQs9AAFnR2NUmOw_IlRFaM27YDczhrZGdt-LITkMuOSoXfpg_xFkH6lBKDkm_T9rvFPOQd0Q-4yJ21IQMgmNOhXnyV3JttHqMA1H45foUPVjZVDspzdfmobOk-5GfbhnxPBBBHHEeb7mHh8wqf3uhBwA/s640/_mkW-xvb2Q8V4Wgh1oCPAMaNj04.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="640" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AbAkLSiusiZ_QgzAh7pnaQ15U4tnzfl56ePQs9AAFnR2NUmOw_IlRFaM27YDczhrZGdt-LITkMuOSoXfpg_xFkH6lBKDkm_T9rvFPOQd0Q-4yJ21IQMgmNOhXnyV3JttHqMA1H45foUPVjZVDspzdfmobOk-5GfbhnxPBBBHHEeb7mHh8wqf3uhBwA/w320-h195/_mkW-xvb2Q8V4Wgh1oCPAMaNj04.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>would see various young comics perform during $5.00/beer night, Colin seen them perform and thought: <u style="font-style: italic;">That's What I Want To Do</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin loved <u>watching</u> stand-up, but the comedians he looked up to - Seinfeld & Chris Rock - seemed of a different generation and way more <u>polished</u>. It's not that Colin seen them as role models or a career path, it's more of a <u>vocal</u> path to what you want to <u>freely</u> say. Colin had told about stand-up as a vocation that he's been doing it for <u>16</u> years - performing <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> over the U.S. 24/7 - Yet, Colin still barely felt like a stand-up comic.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouIG6q6HtRFnhRs-c-3htxl1Qke2CM0LiJQpeGRm_SxkCLuMgt8spV9Q8Js9pdvQ0h7XWRgyQT4aKjBkjSyKQze1RSaZ5SOe_4lidow_3oTFHoRwzi1MI4RpH0XK4fGGm9r7QTp8zc3Pgp7Jzfkm0K_VUMgRF2BYIoaXN647Y567ikfz7q22tzIRruQ/s1599/vegassign.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1599" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouIG6q6HtRFnhRs-c-3htxl1Qke2CM0LiJQpeGRm_SxkCLuMgt8spV9Q8Js9pdvQ0h7XWRgyQT4aKjBkjSyKQze1RSaZ5SOe_4lidow_3oTFHoRwzi1MI4RpH0XK4fGGm9r7QTp8zc3Pgp7Jzfkm0K_VUMgRF2BYIoaXN647Y567ikfz7q22tzIRruQ/s320/vegassign.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>There were years at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. where even during show<br /> weeks, Colin was performing stand-up 4 nights/week. Which is <u>nothing</u> for a full-time comedian, but where you're one of the senior writers at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>., <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u> on top of your normal job is <b><u>ALOT</u>!</b> After about 5 years of doing mostly "<i>bar shows</i>" downtown, Colin began making end roads at some of the most mainstream clubs in the city. Ex. - <u style="font-style: italic;">The Comedy Cellar</u>. What Colin loved about <u style="font-style: italic;">The Cellar</u> was the intensity of it. If you're "<i>medium</i>" at <u style="font-style: italic;">The Cellar</u>, you're an asshole. . .so you better <u style="font-weight: bold;">BRING</u> it or you're <b><u>FUCKED</u>!</b> Colin's deal was to <u>succeed</u> in <u>both</u> locations. He always thought a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u> comedian should be able to kill it <b><u>anywhere</u>!</b> Around this time, Colin met a comic named Steve Byrne, who would help Colin a ton in his stand-up career, as he has done for many other comics. Steve gave Colin an open ticket to join him on the comedy circuit to Hollywood, FL. One of the greatest weekends of his life. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKcJT8MHZnUXX7rD0va3KQdLpVWGpeNY4WliRA9BZnArXuANP4JgJLtMgXlSNUqqV96boQAGAwUkOAnyIascDLWhqIdx9HzJIxY7_IlAaWGEde3H-llwgyu84cXltBPkxLJCYJO0nRMXPQVvoni_koLrebpMcsCPDB4aSuYUFPvAohGOb2Ntp9SXWng/s705/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="634" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKcJT8MHZnUXX7rD0va3KQdLpVWGpeNY4WliRA9BZnArXuANP4JgJLtMgXlSNUqqV96boQAGAwUkOAnyIascDLWhqIdx9HzJIxY7_IlAaWGEde3H-llwgyu84cXltBPkxLJCYJO0nRMXPQVvoni_koLrebpMcsCPDB4aSuYUFPvAohGOb2Ntp9SXWng/s320/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" width="288" /></a></div>There were 6 shows. 1 Thursday. 2 Friday, 2 Saturday and 1 Sunday. Colin was the emcee, Neal Brennan was the feature act, and Steve was the headliner. Colin made $200 that <u>entire</u> weekend, which didn't cover his costs for flight/hotel. But, it was <u>worth</u> it. Let's just say that Colin <u>took</u> <u>advantage</u> of the city of Fort Lauderdale in a way that he would <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> have the opportunity to <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">again</u>. Colin felt he peaked after his <u>first</u> show. But, he'll always have Fort Lauderdale. Colin was <u>unknowingly</u> through a <b><u>hostile</u> </b> crowd <u style="font-weight: bold;">intentionally</u> to see if he could <u>survive</u>. <u>Sticking</u> <u>to</u> the set <u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to do was half the battle. Colin was <u>chosen</u> for <u style="font-style: italic;">New Faces</u>, along with Jack Whitehall and Fortune Feimster, which meant getting a sitcom 6 months later. It gave Colin his <u>first</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">credit</u> as a comedian. Later that year, it helped Colin land his <u>first</u>-<u>ever</u> television appearance with <u style="font-style: italic;">Late Night With Jimmy Fallon</u>. Standing behind the curtain, about to go out on national TV, was one of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">exhilarating</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">panic</u> attacks he's ever had. When the curtain lifted and Colin went out there onstage . . .that was it until it was over. Colin would continue to have this feeling again with <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> of his <u>firsts</u>; including <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>. Colin would feel before he and Michael Che hosted the <u style="font-style: italic;">Emmy's</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRoxV9umQh0PyD9CyqKAlK-HSlbasGdkLgfo81N7teP1mNuUOz_qPjFStIpBUItrpBbJzdxDR9pvdTNTf92nNuIEqqNKakF3ICyC4p3i0bsDzuYgipE8HXlgb_iE3y-0jlsYrGgEsYktKFVq-KKa_IMgn8F5XFKimgKyZ7sKYptkYfLBi6roBKVFsqA/s1280/maxresdefault%20(2).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRoxV9umQh0PyD9CyqKAlK-HSlbasGdkLgfo81N7teP1mNuUOz_qPjFStIpBUItrpBbJzdxDR9pvdTNTf92nNuIEqqNKakF3ICyC4p3i0bsDzuYgipE8HXlgb_iE3y-0jlsYrGgEsYktKFVq-KKa_IMgn8F5XFKimgKyZ7sKYptkYfLBi6roBKVFsqA/s320/maxresdefault%20(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Colin cares <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> about doing a set he's proud of and <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u> he stands behind. He still does about 50-100 shows/annually - from theaters across the country to colleges, corporate gigs, casinos, and sometimes a random show in New York City. Stand-Up is like any other type of performance. You don't rely on anyone else but yourself. It's just you and a microphone; that can go in <u>any</u> direction. <u>That</u> is <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u> <u>liberating</u>, <u>especially</u> in an industry where <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> depends on forces that feel out of <u>your</u> control. Colin used to write out <u>every</u> <u>single</u> <u>word</u> that he would say onstage due to being anal-retentive. He had since made a "<i>set list</i>" for <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> show that looks like it was written in Sanskrit. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIhuilq7dCE2B-ANeegJSP9STxEWw8zmRd7R0m0mzNXE8tM_GjyTJ9rewwRSeaAPDE5MRXcI4UUz1J8KlVzG5a4_NcWTjREsPbqMsdKoP2iSI3YLeyktmkdVZXUNjmkgBM-tgGe1Bnmxz6NX89MFfJkvvckJ0FzB72XwQ1yABZHoRZYHdc4Tjc3lE4A/s300/download.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIhuilq7dCE2B-ANeegJSP9STxEWw8zmRd7R0m0mzNXE8tM_GjyTJ9rewwRSeaAPDE5MRXcI4UUz1J8KlVzG5a4_NcWTjREsPbqMsdKoP2iSI3YLeyktmkdVZXUNjmkgBM-tgGe1Bnmxz6NX89MFfJkvvckJ0FzB72XwQ1yABZHoRZYHdc4Tjc3lE4A/s1600/download.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div>In 2012, Colin had been invited to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Just For Laughs</u> comedy festival in Chicago to tape a 15-minute stand-up set that would air later. This was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u> deal for Colin and he wanted to study for it <u style="font-weight: bold;">intensely</u>. Colin was on a conflicted situation due to a friend's wedding <u>at</u> <u>the</u> <u>same</u> <u>time</u> in Chicago. The bachelor party was the night prior to the wedding. Colin may not be as <u>actively</u> athletic as his friendly counterparts, but he is <u style="font-weight: bold;">fiercely</u> competitive. At a steakhouse in Chicago, Colin is trying to keep up with their drinking. As the bachelor party went under wry, they left dinner; when the group had already consumed approximately 140 bottles of red wine. Outside the restaurant is a Chicago P.D. paddy wagon. Colin thought "<u style="font-style: italic;">Oh Shit</u>!" They were to be detained in the back of a van. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuI60vny_YKkd8v4c31lZbsh69yDXhbc5FaRXKsEAOtdUH6-yJkwBwySNGYcAoNJpB8gFMhd_y_GLn4eXF5Nze_GdDuj6ryvtRUgj-K_GRUMIKBcXsf_wxi6qNC6EfMQHke4iy7GjpoWsReb5nFU7wRrDsdNFvKWElTnbBchr63a3hsbmABWB6oCsGug/s283/download.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="178" data-original-width="283" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuI60vny_YKkd8v4c31lZbsh69yDXhbc5FaRXKsEAOtdUH6-yJkwBwySNGYcAoNJpB8gFMhd_y_GLn4eXF5Nze_GdDuj6ryvtRUgj-K_GRUMIKBcXsf_wxi6qNC6EfMQHke4iy7GjpoWsReb5nFU7wRrDsdNFvKWElTnbBchr63a3hsbmABWB6oCsGug/s1600/download.png" width="283" /></a></div>Colin <b><u>REALIZED</u></b> his luck to the world. . . (<i><u>white</u> in the legal system</i>.) A group of adult men being chaperoned by the police as they drink their way through increasingly sketchy bars across town. But, then again it was Chicago. With the Chicago <u>status</u>, Colin wasn't going to let the party disband. Colin wasn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u> punchable. They proceeded to visit 4 different bars, each time rolling out of a police out of a police van as the patrons inside watched/wondered why criminals were allowed to stop for drinks on the way to prison. 4 Hours Later, they arrived at their <u>final</u> stop: A Large warehouse on the side of an expressway. <u style="font-style: italic;">Chicago WhirlyBall</u>. After a few drinks with liquid courage; Colin is <u>really</u> <u>good</u> at the game. They play game-after-game. Colin feels like he finally found his calling within this game. The <u>more</u> liquid <u>success</u> Colin gains from it. . .this confidence grows. Only to be pointed out as a <u>weak</u> punch from Colin. But, with <u>alcohol</u>; Colin felt like the <u style="font-style: italic;">Heavyweight Champion Of The World</u>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin gets back to his hotel room at 3:00A and crawls into bed with his <u>then</u> girlfriend. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">CRASHED</u> into the bed with <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> of his clothes on. 2 <u>Hours</u> <u>Later</u>, Colin woke up. He was reeling in <u style="font-weight: bold;">pain</u> <u>again</u>. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excruciating</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">pain</u> Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> felt. After 15 minutes of hearing Colin bitch about his hand, his girlfriend <u>kindly</u> drove him to get his hand X-Rayed. The <u>result</u> was that Colin had broken his hand. They get him home at 8AM. Colin sleeps for a couple of hours, and then shows up to the wedding. <i style="font-weight: bold;">What other people don't know won't hurt them</i>. Colin and his friends began <u>laughing</u> within their group. Colin is somehow <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> in the worst shape. He has a broken hand; but Colin is a creature driven by a combination of guilt and F.O.M.O., which overrides <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u>. As Colin ignores his broken hand and impending stand-up performance, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">flat</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">dies</u> for the night.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAKQryT4CUN9FQPwR8y9YZFsqS6N5czda8gjLIjBO8zsLMxoJ5ZCqd2VP8-Jn0LPEEfnRMCkwbRzdxDY-EicRrXhH14o8Nc7-SydhSA7XEIQ_f-6L9vTz6dFaLkq22v_7GjwZxfpSRDbfxvn9QO8j2YuzxjDH1P8iHWxaLILytoYQJSWSc4AgdD0y4A/s2000/3f5902e5-41a6-4f4e-b98d-b87542e71044.fba6ea0ffdf8361161f19da82529d1f8.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAKQryT4CUN9FQPwR8y9YZFsqS6N5czda8gjLIjBO8zsLMxoJ5ZCqd2VP8-Jn0LPEEfnRMCkwbRzdxDY-EicRrXhH14o8Nc7-SydhSA7XEIQ_f-6L9vTz6dFaLkq22v_7GjwZxfpSRDbfxvn9QO8j2YuzxjDH1P8iHWxaLILytoYQJSWSc4AgdD0y4A/w200-h200/3f5902e5-41a6-4f4e-b98d-b87542e71044.fba6ea0ffdf8361161f19da82529d1f8.webp" width="200" /></a></div>It's 5 A.M. Colin tries to justify his actions of the night as material or his stand-up. When you're in comedy, alcohol is almost a performance-enhancing drug. Colin then grabs a <u style="font-style: italic;">PBR</u> to toast and move onto their next morning/day. These moments with his friends; the pain and the hospital and eventual P.T. were worth it. Then, <u>suddenly</u> there were 3 cops busting in wearing <u>full</u> riot gear. <u>Everyone</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Freezes</u>. Colin felt like a high school kid in trouble and threw his beer on the floor; even though it's <u>perfectly</u> legal. A prank from a hockey player impersonating a cop who wanted to enjoy the party. The next night Colin filmed his set for <u style="font-style: italic;">TBS</u>; while sporting a giant bandage. Looking back at their set on video, Colin realized he looked fucked-up. Perhaps because he <u>only</u> slept for <u style="font-weight: bold;">60</u> hours. . . Not the career spring board he had hoped for. It was his <b><u>WORST</u>!</b> Taking his experience from the weekend, Colin used in his comedic act. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGboUPKzVhsjAe8VZfx08DWIlVIah7Pe7jYM7CRXuQ7r3DgWK21rVLL2jL2W3o5H-ofKdftIcb9xtgP_xXNQHUo39hxoF4tE3eqPG51y_ki55SEhmxnWZmeBKa9ANs7a5yqxMNYZgkkWBaEyREpG7w5zpR8IDAe8PkS0mPvqpdqrvWRculJ_z_1Y-7gw/s640/bj.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGboUPKzVhsjAe8VZfx08DWIlVIah7Pe7jYM7CRXuQ7r3DgWK21rVLL2jL2W3o5H-ofKdftIcb9xtgP_xXNQHUo39hxoF4tE3eqPG51y_ki55SEhmxnWZmeBKa9ANs7a5yqxMNYZgkkWBaEyREpG7w5zpR8IDAe8PkS0mPvqpdqrvWRculJ_z_1Y-7gw/s320/bj.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Colin will <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> say who is <u>particularly</u> responsible for writing <u>what</u><span> sketches belong to who on the show. Due to growing up Irish Catholic, pride was a sin. There is also something wonderful about not knowing. . . it alleviates </span><u>pressure</u><span> without being </span><span>critiqued </span><u>directly</u><span>. Safety in numbers. Colin writes a sketch for the week and forgets it by the next. In Staten Island, Billy Joel's music has a strange, mythical power that brought the town together. Colin kept a playlist of Billy Joel's most popular song for mood/inspiration. The </span><u>very</u><span> </span><span>first thing Colin did on </span><u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u><span> was take an </span><i>awkward</i><span> moment to introduce himself... </span><u>Right</u><span> </span><u>out</u><span> </span><u>of</u><span> </span><u>the</u><span> </span><u>gate</u><span>. Colin </span><u style="font-weight: bold;">embarrassed</u><span> himself with his first introduction. It </span><u>wasn't</u><span> even Colin's idea. At dress rehearsal, Colin didn't </span>introduce himself; he went <u>right</u> <u>into</u> the jokes. <u style="font-weight: bold;">But</u>, Colin was told he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> introduce himself. Otherwise, it was weird. Colin learned <u>2</u> lessons he <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">quickly</b> learned:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUqB71L_6FHM5lWTQVfcR0VPdgLVX_ab2K6dH_cBSPZUGXECZoSwX15WXIGorF_U8AdFgW0Up6IHlnsKVvwpmEMWpKS5OUb5SBum5swZbsfFEbmKKcm4zG6fXUFX2CFCt8YompnzSIT2EzCaoEDquNlJVr3Y82scqacKjVwgZQgkmrsG6RZCgAYctBw/s500/weekend.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkUqB71L_6FHM5lWTQVfcR0VPdgLVX_ab2K6dH_cBSPZUGXECZoSwX15WXIGorF_U8AdFgW0Up6IHlnsKVvwpmEMWpKS5OUb5SBum5swZbsfFEbmKKcm4zG6fXUFX2CFCt8YompnzSIT2EzCaoEDquNlJVr3Y82scqacKjVwgZQgkmrsG6RZCgAYctBw/w400-h225/weekend.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>1. You don't <u>need</u> to do anything in life - if it feels wrong or unnatural..it probably is.</div><div style="text-align: left;">2. Colin had no one to blame for <u>never</u> trusting his own instincts and pushing back when he felt something was wrong. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When Colin began doing <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>, he was operating <u>purely</u> out of <b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">fear</b>. He had spent the last 8 years doing stand-up to be prepared for this <u style="font-weight: bold;">exact</u> moment, but this <u>entire</u> time, Colin was also a writer for the show. Within the walls of <u style="font-style: italic;">30 Rock</u>. . </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLpos9clEDzW9AJ2bmH_pw7plxaqcQfjfe-rYLbnH2HWkgbtctKsQqpbtjjPrnY_ZaGt43cYXLyt0Fs5WsVzQeCqfHe1DYoMyfiXH5m1vXzULiS8W_1jbRos5ZxgeIHkurb6G7CSH_xTDYC7D879xXZRdSJEFdyM78l0hXBlQkG82a5JxCqCjkeieZQ/s500/snl-chase-superJumbo.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="500" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLpos9clEDzW9AJ2bmH_pw7plxaqcQfjfe-rYLbnH2HWkgbtctKsQqpbtjjPrnY_ZaGt43cYXLyt0Fs5WsVzQeCqfHe1DYoMyfiXH5m1vXzULiS8W_1jbRos5ZxgeIHkurb6G7CSH_xTDYC7D879xXZRdSJEFdyM78l0hXBlQkG82a5JxCqCjkeieZQ/w320-h212/snl-chase-superJumbo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm Chevy Chase. . .and you're not!</td></tr></tbody></table>That was Colin's <u>identity</u> as a writer. That was how most people thought of Colin and how he earned his money. Where Colin derived his self-esteem. What he also wrote under his occupation of his tax returns:<span style="font-style: italic;">Writer</span>. With <span style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</span>, Colin was about to begin a <span style="font-weight: bold;">very</span><b> </b><span style="font-weight: bold;">different</span> job, but in the exact same work place, which is strange. Colin was <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</span> about ruining both careers. . .writing and performing careers at once. Colin also <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</span> his ability for the job. (<i>Was he going to make an ass out of himself <b>unintentionally</b></i>) He was <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</span> he was going to <b>fuck it up!</b> (<i style="font-weight: bold;">Looking at the </i><span style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORY</span><i style="font-weight: bold;"> of Weekend that came </i><span style="font-weight: bold;">BEFORE</span><i style="font-weight: bold;"> him. . .Chevy Chase</i> <b><i>(and he's not)</i></b>) Colin's goal was to maintain what Chevy did; not re-invent it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The first 8 <u style="font-style: italic;">Updates</u> Colin did from March-May 2014, he felt like he was hit by a truck. he would drink a glass of bourbon before dress rehearsal and airtime; and a third before he went on. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> felt drunk <u>once</u>. The <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> and adrenaline wore itself off. It was a 3 month long, out-of-body experience. What Colin <u>does</u> remember - <u>quite</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">vividly</u> - were the <u style="font-weight: bold;">negative</u> reviews. Until you're on T.V., you never think how America will perceive you. Colin was being <b><u>HIMSELF</u>!</b> He didn't overthink it. He was only 30-yrs-of-age. But, when Colin was on-camera, he was given <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOADS</u> of advice. It made Colin question who he was on-camera <u style="font-weight: bold;">AND</u> in his <u>life</u>. Colin began to worry. When you're <u>unsure</u> of yourself. . . people <u style="font-weight: bold;">try</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> you. . .which <u style="font-weight: bold;">DOESN'T</u> help. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFS44ClBxCeeVMPThLKbg63QakrpoTfOdKssZZTSehaN6hXkrcSXk6ehuhIi2tbbxpiCKIi8dDarkvqqt3gBZN1qv4ucbT4zEgcqC4dvtFQ0ja13oI6mmIPFAPsPt-gLRtrDKimBvq4tlk_S2nmnatyDMstnp7L_lo7XCMOArbKTwrxHxMQRWveTeU8A/s2000/gettyimages-834258906-2000.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFS44ClBxCeeVMPThLKbg63QakrpoTfOdKssZZTSehaN6hXkrcSXk6ehuhIi2tbbxpiCKIi8dDarkvqqt3gBZN1qv4ucbT4zEgcqC4dvtFQ0ja13oI6mmIPFAPsPt-gLRtrDKimBvq4tlk_S2nmnatyDMstnp7L_lo7XCMOArbKTwrxHxMQRWveTeU8A/s320/gettyimages-834258906-2000.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Colin was instructed to <u>be</u> <u>himself</u>. <u>But</u>, be a newscaster <u>first</u> <u>&</u> <u>foremost</u>. Have <u>Fun;</u> but be <b><u>SERIOUS</u>!</b> Different instructions to find a "<i>relatable</i>" personality. Due to allowing these different voices into his head, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>felt <u>physically</u> <u>present</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>. He would get <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u> and his reaction was to smile or laugh on camera; which could probably come across as smug or overconfident even though Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">ZERO</u> confidence and he was acting out of <u>pure</u> <b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">fear</b>. If you're a <u>regular</u> cast member on <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">S.N.L</i>., people may hate a <u style="font-weight: bold;">character</u> you do might criticize your <u style="font-weight: bold;">impression</u> of someone <b><u>REAL</u>!</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">But, when you're on <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>, people hate <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA07ykr0HnxMxOo43bUWn3Vh7N4ibIAXrjr0IaxNXkfUsqKt5su_f5HxUDBeFHNtyNh_cZ_aG4ie0KpjO9b89zd8UGd7QDLYhRgq0KUVPUUSGq5PqsmaqX8o8xx1O6VdOP6i1-HygQoOgLAQN3cfHG7OKH9lWmbENQvD18EDjIbx1EbaJGYwz8qr_NxA/s1200/hero-image.webp" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA07ykr0HnxMxOo43bUWn3Vh7N4ibIAXrjr0IaxNXkfUsqKt5su_f5HxUDBeFHNtyNh_cZ_aG4ie0KpjO9b89zd8UGd7QDLYhRgq0KUVPUUSGq5PqsmaqX8o8xx1O6VdOP6i1-HygQoOgLAQN3cfHG7OKH9lWmbENQvD18EDjIbx1EbaJGYwz8qr_NxA/w200-h200/hero-image.webp" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin as then-Mayor Pete Buttigeig</td></tr></tbody></table><b><u>YOU</u>!</b> There's no hiding behind talent. When a <u>whole</u> group departed, the show struggled for a while due to the new cast being new and unfamiliar. Colin was <u>squarely</u> in the middle of some growing pains, both as a head writer and as a <u>new</u> guy on <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>. Colin began to feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">depressed</u> due to watching his friends move on and suddenly gone. He felt like the kid in high school whose friends were graduating and he was a year behind them.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvN3WMmHA-5MST9Xj1Gi_H87c0fZmkDKfytCeWda0RmTizRmzxHm3xh8pzCMg9PT8-XUy71IiRsAr4EDLpySTsxx2fOFLyuoBC1C6RwBi1VzV-L_M1-PFdEz0u6JBb7UxYte2txttZD20jQSjuP58dzRknr4syGroVid-AWDfsB2WzvGDUSZDtS8TPw/s457/michael-che-2000-75ff528ea6774f6892b89641000a84f0.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="388" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvN3WMmHA-5MST9Xj1Gi_H87c0fZmkDKfytCeWda0RmTizRmzxHm3xh8pzCMg9PT8-XUy71IiRsAr4EDLpySTsxx2fOFLyuoBC1C6RwBi1VzV-L_M1-PFdEz0u6JBb7UxYte2txttZD20jQSjuP58dzRknr4syGroVid-AWDfsB2WzvGDUSZDtS8TPw/s320/michael-che-2000-75ff528ea6774f6892b89641000a84f0.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Che & Jost</td></tr></tbody></table>But, with all of the criticism, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> felt bad for himself because (a) he deserved it early on and (b) that was what Colin signed up for. But, <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> is motivation. You take the good <u>with</u> the bad. You get punched and it <u style="font-weight: bold;">snaps</u> you into <b><u>FOCUS</u>!</b> The reviews felt like a punch. As with most punches, it <b><u>hurts</u> <u>ALOT</u>!</b> Colin took <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> criticism <u style="font-weight: bold;">purely</u> to heart and Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">sad</u> for <u>2</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">FULL</u> years of his life. He felt like a failure in what he wanted to do the <u>most</u>. He thought about quitting many times. . . (<i><u>Unaware</u> of the mental little voices inside his head like everyone else does</i>.) Then, his <u style="font-weight: bold;">anger</u> got the best of him and Colin <u>fought</u> back. The person who helped him come to this realization was Michael Che.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After those <u>rough</u> <u>first</u> 8 episodes on <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>, the season ended and the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">confusing</u> summer of Colin's life began. Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> whether he would be doing <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u> in the fall. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> if he would be rehired as a writer. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> where his options laid. When work is in a terrible paradigm, Colin <u>mentally</u> disappears to the beyond of. . where he <u style="font-style: italic;">could</u> go and just <b><u>BE</u>!</b> Colin goes through this <u>mental</u> escape <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">least</u> once a month. Instead, Colin spent the summer on tour doing stand-up and he decided that whatever happened with <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>, he wanted to be a better performer. Colin didn't <u>exactly</u> know how to . .so he began meeting with an acting coach. <u>This</u> was something Colin <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> for the longest out of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of embarrassment. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> he had to breathe, <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u> his <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">go</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u>. How would he know unless he tried? So, Colin went all balls in and tried <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u> hard. It wasn't just <u>one</u> thing Colin tried, it was the multitude of them simultaneously. Colin was a head-writer at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>., he was a headlining stand-up comedian whom toured the country, <u>and</u> he was filming a movie for <u style="font-style: italic;">Paramount</u>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, Colin decided to narrow it down to <u>one</u> <u>thing</u> he cared about <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u>: <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>. He <u>stepped</u> down as head writer. Colin <u>stopped</u> going on the road to do stand-up during off weeks. Colin let the director and the studio edit the movie. He wanted to succeed at <u>one</u> thing instead of failing at 4. The <u>only</u> problem was, Colin didn't know if he had the <u>one</u> job he wanted <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u>. In August, Colin got a call from Lorne's office. They were holding auditions for <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>. So, Colin was going to audition for a job he <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALREADY</u> had. <u>To</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>, Colin has <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> why Lorne put him through this. Colin just <u>felt</u> like he <u>failed</u>. A week later, Colin got a call from his manager at the time. Putting things into Colin's mind that he relied on staff at the time of the show. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">FULL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PRANK-ING</u> phone call that Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u> get the job. . .so it seemed. The whole exchange was disturbing. Colin did <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u> about this job. He just had a 90s kid mini-fit he dreamed of becoming to have a <u style="font-weight: bold;">FINALIZED</u> answer. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">remember</u> how his manager found out this information <u>accurately</u>. . .but he was right. Colin and Michael Che were doing <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u> <u>together</u>? Because until it's a <u style="font-weight: bold;">DONE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DEAL</u> on the air. . .<b><u>you</u> <u>don't</u> <u>know</u>.</b> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There were 20 different combinations of anchors for <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>. Colin felt like America had drawn the short straw to see him. <u>But</u>, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">motivated</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">PROVE</u> he <u>could</u> do it. At the end of Colin's second season on <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">believe</u> he was <u>still</u> there. After <u>2</u> years of grinding and feeling <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> lost, <u>still</u> having the job felt like a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> accomplishment. But, Colin didn't have <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidence</u>. Leslie Jones <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> helped Colin early on. He was <b><u>so</u></b> in his head, <u style="font-weight: bold;">overthinking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> joke - but when Leslie came on <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>, she would <u style="font-weight: bold;">LITERALLY</u> shake Colin out of his head and into his body. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">FORCED</u> him to be <u>present</u> <b><u>in</u> <u>the</u> <u>moment</u></b> with her, the same way she forced the audience to <u>sit</u> <u>up</u> <u>and</u> <u>pay</u> <u>attention</u>. Colin will <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALWAYS</u> be <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> to Leslie for making Colin better, especially when a lot of <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u> felt like a work in progress.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVFr3MHg2k1XHADsafnUuBLyRreQKWL0tJcrl4_YKsQfB64XflENDxpmIf21_aFHjQjBo4-0h12yTuBoFHj-61KSGPASNn-E01LjIwWUlH47e4oZi8jtNr6aXeoOpE19DqZTzJrRY0inb8FPGlB_Bb4YW-KSnYysAHWk6mTg-AddIyGk9mCD6lRuenw/s1400/michael-che-and-colin-jost.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="1400" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVFr3MHg2k1XHADsafnUuBLyRreQKWL0tJcrl4_YKsQfB64XflENDxpmIf21_aFHjQjBo4-0h12yTuBoFHj-61KSGPASNn-E01LjIwWUlH47e4oZi8jtNr6aXeoOpE19DqZTzJrRY0inb8FPGlB_Bb4YW-KSnYysAHWk6mTg-AddIyGk9mCD6lRuenw/s320/michael-che-and-colin-jost.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Every summer for the first 3 ears of doing <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>, Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">convinced</u> he was going to be fired. Then Colin turned a corner and realized: <i>If he was going to be fired</i>, <i>he might as well get fired for doing what he believed in</i>. Colin wanted to tell jokes and write sketches that <u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u> cared about and not really worry about anything out of his control. The rest is someone else's problem. The thing Colin <u>learned</u> about <u style="font-style: italic;">Weekend Update</u>, and about <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>.in general, is that <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> (<i>including Lorne</i>) actually knows what they want until they see it succeed. With the process, Colin learned to do what <u>he</u> thinks is funny and either it works or it doesn't. And it was Michael Che who <u>helped</u> Colin learn to <u style="font-weight: bold;">trust</u> his instincts. Colin has a <u><i>fear</i></u> of disappointing people. Resulting in him having <u>crippling</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">guilt</u>. Che taught Colin that if you try to do something you love <u style="font-style: italic;">and</u> something someone else wants you to do, they <u>both</u> suffer, and the thing you love might disappear <u>entirely</u>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin has also learned that if a joke makes us laugh, in their office on Friday night, it's probably <u>worth</u> trying even if the audience doesn't like it. Colin learned to <u>eliminate</u> the jokes just because they're <u>safe</u>. Colin's <u>first</u> year at <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u>, he was advised to use the week to <u style="font-weight: bold;">use</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">your</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">voice</u>. <u>These</u> years later, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">gets</u> it. . .making sense. Once they began defining their voices, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u> writers could take more chances because they had a <u>clearer</u> sense of the "<i>characters</i>" they were writing for. Colin credits Che for questioning <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">step</u> of the process and finding the way the production of their work is more <u style="font-weight: bold;">valuable</u>. It was also due to Colin being at the show for <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u>, he began to lose perspective outside of his existing one. That was how Colin & Che began showing up on-camera <u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">lot</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> like they were in <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> life - <u>both</u> as individuals and as a unit. Their sensibility began coming through more; because they would wade through the bullshit they didn't care for. What started out as <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrifying</u> has become - most weeks - <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u> fun.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin has <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> of their <u>legacy</u> on <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u> and he doesn't really care. He is just <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> for the <u>ability</u> to improve. He is <u style="font-weight: bold;">eternally</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> for getting to do <u style="font-style: italic;">Update</u> with Che because Colin would <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> have <u>survived</u> without him. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYV-HXwGnSqF5RYzcip07nVF50esQEitAt4rfiE1m94TEJopgY92eiw1cmR2-AlR9MwJF5s3HDJqeEMyWv_RZ7TUeffikDw0OOOT9IhXNEoWmUQbgxZfKJWsE1yb6nwGOZirBx0ICEb0c6ZbqTxaYH9UYclDpRu_46Sk8CjBVFi1NZdwYtxeQ8pt-uQg/s636/cleveland.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="636" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYV-HXwGnSqF5RYzcip07nVF50esQEitAt4rfiE1m94TEJopgY92eiw1cmR2-AlR9MwJF5s3HDJqeEMyWv_RZ7TUeffikDw0OOOT9IhXNEoWmUQbgxZfKJWsE1yb6nwGOZirBx0ICEb0c6ZbqTxaYH9UYclDpRu_46Sk8CjBVFi1NZdwYtxeQ8pt-uQg/w320-h230/cleveland.png" width="320" /></a></div>Word of note: <u style="font-weight: bold;">Many</u> times in Colin's life, he ended up talking to someone <u>widely</u> famous <u>without</u> <b><u>realizing</u></b> it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">late</u> in the conversation. From then on, whenever Colin was <u>unaware</u> of the person he was conversing with, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">tries</u> to <u>listen</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">intently</u> for "<i>context clues</i>" for a <u>hinted</u> giveaway. <u style="font-style: italic;">Margaritaville</u> being a <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u> contextual clue. Colin <u>loves</u> the restaurants. He <u>likes</u> the song. . .but the restaurant is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">best</u> ever based on a song. Colin may be the only person who knows Jimmy Buffet's restaurant <u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u> than his music. Let's just say Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWS</u> the menu selections/design from memorization. He just <u style="font-weight: bold;">loves</u> the restaurant. Colin began to detail how he had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">threatening</u> surfing adventure with Jimmy Buffet. Only to be embarrassed in front of him trying to impress him while surfing. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tF07cWFsVwv7V1mcSE8nRq24CW0BTAQyxsYq8eOg6QEWizhBgttUy5BIojeRtBoshJYphMQnw3IGQcaxeUOLOsqamKIAxxv2T-Rq_XHdPg85TEDULbovNQX1mBm_sa8MRV1-8RKuiwMbBw7sla7AMKetVbSWmj0oVNjNoCy73YtMX1KwMCWQQXCusQ/s300/magazine-2008-08-0831-barack-obama-and-john-mccain_at.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tF07cWFsVwv7V1mcSE8nRq24CW0BTAQyxsYq8eOg6QEWizhBgttUy5BIojeRtBoshJYphMQnw3IGQcaxeUOLOsqamKIAxxv2T-Rq_XHdPg85TEDULbovNQX1mBm_sa8MRV1-8RKuiwMbBw7sla7AMKetVbSWmj0oVNjNoCy73YtMX1KwMCWQQXCusQ/w318-h320/magazine-2008-08-0831-barack-obama-and-john-mccain_at.webp" width="318" /></a></div>It's strange to look back at the moment in their show's <u style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORY</u> and try to remember what it felt like to work there that week. <u>At</u> <u>this</u> <u>point</u>, Colin had worked for 10 years and had written for presidential candidates like Barack Obama & John McCain. The show, <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. is also a really disorienting place to work in general. Colin had experienced pretty much <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">bizarre</u> show business moment there was. One thing Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">loves</u> about <i><u>S.N.L</u>. </i>is that they <u>welcome</u> musical guests from all over the country (<i>and the world</i>) with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">wide</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">range</u> of social & political views. People <u style="font-weight: bold;">forget</u> that <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. is <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">its</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">core</u> a <u>variety</u> show. A variety show of viewpoints from <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> aspects. The majority of the show had <u style="font-weight: bold;">ZERO</u> to do with politics and the sketches, and the sketches that are <u>beloved</u> are <b><u>rarely</u></b> political ones. If you were to go back and examine <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of the hosts in <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">history</u> - especially after the <u style="font-style: italic;">#MeToo Movement</u> - you're going to find problems. (<i>Henceforth - </i><u style="font-style: italic;">The Episode That Shall Not Be Named</u>. - <u style="font-style: italic;">The Former Twice Impeached Disgraced One-Term "President</u>".) </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lTXpdMwo1nXtU_wqlyS1xFXsLCUo_eZLm5h_UOvvpkT8F6mSV8VQfMUZVbDWKcrjmJvcYhTs8TpZ3eB1h865lvALhYtDWaaS2nZ6wCXjqISl3VOfmWHwULm4TE6HrGUPalwW1JdfIoOg8BsGyKe4diCt9ALbdM-mi_K0vzwIrePZe9_Pzq9ZXxOUDA/s340/45.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="293" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lTXpdMwo1nXtU_wqlyS1xFXsLCUo_eZLm5h_UOvvpkT8F6mSV8VQfMUZVbDWKcrjmJvcYhTs8TpZ3eB1h865lvALhYtDWaaS2nZ6wCXjqISl3VOfmWHwULm4TE6HrGUPalwW1JdfIoOg8BsGyKe4diCt9ALbdM-mi_K0vzwIrePZe9_Pzq9ZXxOUDA/w173-h200/45.jpg" width="173" /></a></div>Colin's grandfather always told him a story about John F. Kennedy. When Kennedy was a teenager, his father, Joe, made him a <u>promise</u>: <i><u>Don't</u> drink <u>until</u> the age of 21</i>, <i>and in return the <u style="font-weight: bold;">promise</u> was of a million dollars</i>. Colin's grandfather <u>made</u> him the <u style="font-weight: bold;">exact</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">same</u><b> </b><u>promise</u> to him. In fact, his grandfather offered 0 dollars. They offered an <u>incentive</u> for Colin to <u style="font-weight: bold;">strive</u> for. Colin made it to 15. At an alleyway in Middle Village, Queens is where Colin had his <u>first</u> drink; during his sophomore year of high school. Imagining himself within John's shoes and living up to the story <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> turn out the same for Colin. He had 10oz of a 40oz of <u style="font-style: italic;">Colt.45</u> and he was <b><u>FLYING</u> <u>HIGH</u>!</b> He had snuck into a friend's parents garage, stole a 5-Iron from this friends' dad's golf bag and began hitting rocks at trash cans throughout Queens. <u>To</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>, the 5-Iron is <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u> unaccounted for, and Colin's friend is <u>now</u> a lieutenant in the NYPD.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin didn't drink in high school. It <u>just</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> that interesting to him, and most of Colin's friends didn't drink either, outside of a <u>few</u> beers. He also felt (<i>and <u>still</u> believes</i>) that it's <u>better</u> to wait until your brain is <u style="font-weight: bold;">fully</u> cooked before ruining it with poison. <b><u style="font-style: italic;">Like</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">me</u></b>, Colin sees alcohol as a poison and <u style="font-weight: bold;">danger</u> to the body. . One <i>should</i> <u>know</u>! Drinking <u>worries</u> Colin due to it being a disease that sneaks up on you! Colin has/had family members gone/deceased to the disease. Colin has seen <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> in his lifetime due to alcohol itself. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Like <u>myself</u>, Colin <u>learned</u> from the world <u>surrounding</u> him</i>. It's part of the ritual territory. It's the same for <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. You have to be vigilant, take days off and limit your intake so it doesn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelm</u> you. When Colin was growing up, his parents <u>almost</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> drank. His parents might've drank during <u>certain</u> occasions. But, for them, <u>not</u> drinking was a reaction to the generation prior to them. Colin had <u>learned</u> from his genealogy, stories & lessons on the <u style="font-weight: bold;">dangers</u> themselves. (<b><i>It could happen to me</i>!</b>)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin is <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">trying</u>, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> failing, to drink <u>less</u>. He'll go a few days/weeks without drinking at all. Soon regretting his decision(s). But the problem is that Colin is a <u>fun</u> drunk. He becomes <u style="font-weight: bold;">ambitious</u>. Drunk with <b><u>powerful</u> <u>ENERGY</u>!</b> He is also easily "<i>dared</i>" into doing <u>dumb</u> shit; like <u>typical</u> guys do. What seems like "<i><u>FUN</u></i>" while intoxicated; your body will <u style="font-weight: bold;">suffer</u> for later. Colin, while intoxicated, is <u style="font-weight: bold;">known</u> to bean idiot and a social menace; which Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">WHOLEHEARTEDLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">APOLOGIES</u> for. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Drugs always <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</u> Colin because of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of enjoyment that would derail his <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> life. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> smoked pot until college and he <u>never</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> cocaine until he was 27 and a writer's assistant at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. walked into Colin's office and offered it. He was <u>truly</u> honored. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Never</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">mind</u> the <u style="font-style: italic;">paranoia</u>, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u> to be <u>alone</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">physically</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">suffered</u> as a result. . .<i>similar to the flu</i>. .sleeping for <u style="font-weight: bold;">12</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hours</u>. That was his <u>general</u> reaction to pot. But,around the age of 28, Colin went on a date with a lady and she offered him a pot cookie. Colin was worried he might feel <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">paranoid</u>, but he had such a deep, eternal faith in <i>cookies</i> that Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">confident</u> they would cancel out the effects of marijuana. Letting him down in the end with disappointment.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhCDryr9tjd1x5ybWcPa6M_bRM6jx0_k8MJ9vzgNLqnYj3LRPbWDZzgxHsEAZg0lDMJmprtPoTZ2uUgrMwzw1W7PoxqfkgoE2d2B20rDeeRfq5HYL900y_A06wRp5pOr-peqXi9pPnfTuCaa38NjpJ9YLmQfSEczVu58Psi-mNlBR07VzCxmNK6YDrQ/s900/unnamed.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhCDryr9tjd1x5ybWcPa6M_bRM6jx0_k8MJ9vzgNLqnYj3LRPbWDZzgxHsEAZg0lDMJmprtPoTZ2uUgrMwzw1W7PoxqfkgoE2d2B20rDeeRfq5HYL900y_A06wRp5pOr-peqXi9pPnfTuCaa38NjpJ9YLmQfSEczVu58Psi-mNlBR07VzCxmNK6YDrQ/w200-h200/unnamed.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Colin was at a <u style="font-style: italic;">GirlTalk</u> concert in New York and having a great time. Then they went back to her apartment and the cookie suddenly <u style="font-weight: bold;">hit</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>Colin. He became <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u> paranoid, Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">convinced</u> he was poisoned. In a moment of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">panic</u> for a kid in his 20s, Colin called his parents. It was 2:00A and his parents had been sleeping for at least 4 hours. Colin spoke to his mom in a <b><u style="font-style: italic;">PANIC</u>!</b> of what to do? Due to <u>still</u> being <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIGH</u>, Colin went back to the hotel and <u>forgot</u> to make the call. Cut to an hour later, Colin and his date were having a <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> time when there was a knock on the door. <b><u>FUCK</u>!</b> Colin was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">surprised</u> when his parents barged in. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">FRANTICALLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">APOLOGIZED</u> to his <u>date</u>. His date was <u style="font-weight: bold;">SO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HIGH</u> she thought it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">SUPER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FUCKING</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FUNNY</u>. His heart felt like it left his chest and is dancing an Irish jig on the radiator. Colin's mom made him <u>lie</u> <u>down</u> in bed and made him a cup of <span style="color: red; text-decoration-line: underline;">hot</span><span> tea to <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>calm</u> </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">relax</u> him. He is <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">paranoid</u> that he <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fears</u> his <u>own</u> mother is trying to poison him. So, Colin <u>fakes</u> it . . .drinking the tea and pouring it into his bed (<i>like a dumbass</i>). And while he's asleep, <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shivering</u>; Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">hears</u> his dad lecturing this poor girl on the dangers of drug usage. Weirdly, there was no second date. </span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGIE4IkYF1WFy7tVtNVZXZ5LFAymhGvnEtuWNeNEgSRfx8Q6PYZkpWt8n8S0eMhptu9wkA02Y-mhKLi25ceCJcJwer328qiDDwYdhaA2VkJmGiHOjyBYOxPrMomHGstHK9rOVk_HzuD8WGROsidUURohUDmD1KYPLBayOauDUxToLPt8vhDtYxP0QOw/s2169/il_1588xN.3469542321_qz6x.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2169" data-original-width="1588" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiGIE4IkYF1WFy7tVtNVZXZ5LFAymhGvnEtuWNeNEgSRfx8Q6PYZkpWt8n8S0eMhptu9wkA02Y-mhKLi25ceCJcJwer328qiDDwYdhaA2VkJmGiHOjyBYOxPrMomHGstHK9rOVk_HzuD8WGROsidUURohUDmD1KYPLBayOauDUxToLPt8vhDtYxP0QOw/s320/il_1588xN.3469542321_qz6x.webp" width="234" /></a></div>The next morning, Colin calls Casey, who was still living at home at the time. At 2A.M., their parents had knocked on Casey's door informing them of their whereabouts. The city for an adventure at 2;00A. Colin then begged for Casey's <u style="font-weight: bold;">help</u> after they left <u style="font-weight: bold;">convinced</u> he had been <u>poisoned</u> with PCP. Casey just laughed it off. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Despite</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u>, Colin tried a pot cookie one more time with the <u>same</u> friends as before. They were in the woods in Pennsylvania for New Year's Eve. Everyone decided to eat a pot cookie, so Colin - who <u style="font-weight: bold;">OBVIOUSLY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> learn anything the <u style="font-weight: bold;">FIRST</u> time - ate one too! They went for a walk in the falling snow, which was delightful. Like something out of a Robert Frost poem, only high. Then they came back to the house to watch <u style="font-style: italic;">Cloud Atlas</u>. A <u>perfect</u> choice for when you're high. The character Tom Hanks played . . . along with the pot cookie . . . put Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">edge</u>. Colin stood up and <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> relieve himself; when he <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> went to hide in a closet for 2 hours until the movie was over and Colin's friends <u>finally</u> found him. Afterward, Colin didn't really know how to feel in <i><u>post</u></i> being <b><u>TOO</u> <u>HIGH</u>!</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVDq1V-k7-YFKpP2cPogES6P5XCTdfHRsHqO36pg1Ut70G-9UE8VtCYMuFU9qnFFZZbKWWHhAtLDQUdLSu9dz18_jwnmxvuXnsoi8ZTByz4UjWwkT0pqyF3o-9wy62nzRH0VW6bTPKfVZxt51_sZtzHzDRpgU_HdwTaeSNssoV0K66Vu6uvcYooVe4ew/s1200/Google__G__Logo.svg.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVDq1V-k7-YFKpP2cPogES6P5XCTdfHRsHqO36pg1Ut70G-9UE8VtCYMuFU9qnFFZZbKWWHhAtLDQUdLSu9dz18_jwnmxvuXnsoi8ZTByz4UjWwkT0pqyF3o-9wy62nzRH0VW6bTPKfVZxt51_sZtzHzDRpgU_HdwTaeSNssoV0K66Vu6uvcYooVe4ew/w200-h200/Google__G__Logo.svg.webp" width="200" /></a></div><br />In the summer of 2016, Colin finally had a week off for the first time in 2 years. He was <u>planning</u> on sitting on a beach and doing <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">but</u> surf <u>and</u> tan. Before leaving town, his agent called and asked if Colin wanted to meet with folks from <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u>? They wanted Colin to create some kind of content for their VR platform; waiting to show Colin their VR technology. <b><i>What could possibly go wrong</i>? </b> Until then, Colin <u>only</u> <u>heard</u> rumors. Colin had also invested a <u style="font-weight: bold;">large</u> part of his savings in <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u> stock, because he trusted the company (<i>as much as one could <b><u>trust</u> </b>any company</i>). Colin arrived and met with 3 employees who worked in the VR department. After arriving in an <u style="font-weight: bold;">empty</u> office, they put a VR Headset on his head, plus noise-canceling headphones and VR gloves so he could partake in the experience. Colin was "<i>fully emersed.</i>" The first demonstration was Colin on a diving board <u>scenery</u>. Soon after they took him on a second level.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They clicked a button and Colin was transported to the second floor of the diving platform of this size. Colin is <b><u>DEEPLY</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">afraid</u> </b>of heights, but over the years, he's <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> himself to <u style="font-weight: bold;">confront</u> that <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> as much as possible. He dove off a 3-meter springboard when he was <u>younger</u> and it was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrifying</u>. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <b><u>convince</u></b> himself to do breathing exercises. It was <u>just</u> water. <u>Then</u>, they wanted to take Colin to the <u>TOP</u> level. Second later, there he was. At the <u>TOP</u> level of the diving board platform. It felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u>. He had to walk to the edge. After he <u>slowly</u> arrived there, Colin looked down. 4 Stories from the ground, it looked way too small to dive in. Now, Colin was instructed to jump. After assuring its <u>safety</u>, Colin took a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> breath and jumped. Colin <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">HIT</b> something <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> in VR. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u>, some dumbass had placed Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">directly</u> in <u>front</u> of a metal desk. When he jumped, Colin jumped <u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">into</u> the <u>exposed</u> <u>metal</u> edge of the desk. Colin hit his knee, elbow and sliced open the side of his stomach. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They pulled the VR equipment off of Colin in a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">panic</u>; worried about his status. What the fuck did Colin hit? A desk. That made Colin question the dynamics of the situation. What the fuck? It was a dare because <u>no</u> <u>one</u>'s ever jumped from this platform before! After hearing <u>that</u>, Colin was <u>oddly</u> <u>proud</u> of himself. On the inside, Colin felt <u>cool</u> for this stunt. On the outside, he felt like a dumbass. While Colin was sitting there, trying to decide whether to go to the hospital, Colin was asked if he wanted to go try another VR game? It's just his cellphone and a headset. Colin tried to play it cool. . .especially being in <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shock</u> from the fall. At this point, everyone <u>seemed</u> sympathetic and remorseful about what happened. After <u>starting</u> <u>over</u> again with the VR, Colin was somehow suggested to vocal text messages in front of his eyes. The texts were between co-workers. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">hearing</u> his reaction from his fall, Colin realized he was being a <u>baby</u> about his knee and <u><span style="color: red;">blood</span></u> on his shirt.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51JyIeSHa11sct0bDA2tu-XvKxsJejJDUzqVNE5PC7vwuSlxuJ5NORM_dnJ-pIqy_iuDgXqXqMfO0Hb45_clznf1-4YHOcjspJvM0aOzWpB1uVvSfjslfIhFsZ-0Rn79YRL8ycfurmL4_fCRO159VGMY0VPKP-IL-3LV5a8h1_GEnP5s3QcEJEjTq7A/s615/colin%20scratch.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="597" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51JyIeSHa11sct0bDA2tu-XvKxsJejJDUzqVNE5PC7vwuSlxuJ5NORM_dnJ-pIqy_iuDgXqXqMfO0Hb45_clznf1-4YHOcjspJvM0aOzWpB1uVvSfjslfIhFsZ-0Rn79YRL8ycfurmL4_fCRO159VGMY0VPKP-IL-3LV5a8h1_GEnP5s3QcEJEjTq7A/s320/colin%20scratch.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scratch from Colin's side<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>One of Colin's <u style="font-weight: bold;">biggest</u> regrets was not getting back at those from the prank fall. Colin soon realized it didn't solve anything. He confronted those who set him up. He channeled what Che would say. Colin was shown sympathy for what happened. But, that only <b><u>pissed</u> <u>him</u> <u>off</u> <u>more</u>!</b> <u>That</u> made Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">WANT</u> to punch somebody. Here Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u> reasonable, about a situation that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u> their fault, sitting there with <u style="color: red;">blood</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">soaking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">through</u> Colin's shirt and then asshole <u>implied</u> it was all Colin's fault whom <u style="font-weight: bold;">instructed</u> him to jump. . .<i style="font-weight: bold;">Talk about being a <u>fucking</u> asshole</i>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u> living up to the textual representation of <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u>. Colin thought <b><u>FUCK</u> <u>THEM</u>!</b> and headed to the E.R. He had an M.R.I. on his knee and had to walk on crutches for his <u>entire</u> vacation. He had stitches on his abdomen and had to steer clear of the sun and water. He even chipped a bone in his elbow. For what Colin was in pain for, he was being looked at as a <b><u>BIG</u> <u>BABY</u>!</b> He saw everyone else as a piece of shit. <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> pay Colin's medical bills and <u>faulted</u> Colin. Nor did they offer condolences. Just don't sue. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> heard from <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u> again. Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> filed anything. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> angry at himself for going to a <u>virtual</u> space and paying for it in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LIFE</u> hospital.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>., they're fortunate to receive very few network notes due to being on at 11:30P on Saturday and <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> knows what "<i>standards</i>" are at <u>that</u> hour, so if someone says "DICK" on <u style="font-style: italic;">NBC</u>, no one's going to <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">freak</u>. <u>Occasionally</u>, they do get notes. <u>Usually</u> from those sponsoring the show. Some may be <u style="font-weight: bold;">aggressive</u>; but <u>fair</u>. Other notes they would receive from the network were "<i>standard</i>". . . because <u>unlike</u> cable or <u style="font-style: italic;">Netflix</u>, you can't curse people on Network TV. Every week, they receive a <u>list</u> of words or phrases in numerous sketches that are "<i>flagged</i>" as inappropriate by the network. Had Colin <u>made</u> <u>a</u> <u>point</u> of collecting these notes over the past 10 years due to being the <u>single</u> <u>most</u> entertaining part of the job. We all miss a way to speak in the world without <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of "<i>cancellation</i>" or retribution. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpqh9ThxiehWmuujvnOgr7oA1yW9BbcxE_wgAdJFllODLeJR_pQNV4USLLSFU2I9cYW19rt_ha5WA1rSDPHS5ePSeJUA7jQDTHQ26l_-0wHLxlbdhd-mgkALpZXa5uv_2z5Le-FmffkERsJvX8Bcb4cdnheD_MTeYyKPfdfK8Z-CpdbBCgyj_qHigiQ/s281/download.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="179" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUpqh9ThxiehWmuujvnOgr7oA1yW9BbcxE_wgAdJFllODLeJR_pQNV4USLLSFU2I9cYW19rt_ha5WA1rSDPHS5ePSeJUA7jQDTHQ26l_-0wHLxlbdhd-mgkALpZXa5uv_2z5Le-FmffkERsJvX8Bcb4cdnheD_MTeYyKPfdfK8Z-CpdbBCgyj_qHigiQ/w127-h200/download.jpeg" width="127" /></a></div>During <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> arguments, Colin can get <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">angry</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fast</u>, but he <u>also</u> has a keen sense of self-preservation. When Colin is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> threatening person in a group. . .acting like a <u style="font-style: italic;">Billy Bad-Ass</u>; that <u>particular</u> group is <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> going to win in a street-fight. It would be like <u style="font-style: italic;">Of Mice & Men</u>. These whom would fuck with Colin physically; would feel like assholes from messing with someone like Colin - a <u>genuinely</u> great guy. Colin had completed a miracle of trolling. No matter what Jersey he wore, Colin was subject to ridicule from outsiders from what he wore/supported. He couldn't win for losing. Michael Che is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> <i><u>WWE</u></i> fan. Colin was a <u>BIG</u> fan <u>growing</u> <u>up</u>. Che is <u>NOW</u>! Colin is an admirer as an adult. . . Che is a <b><u>FAN</u>!</b> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Che texted Colin one day asking if Colin liked wrestling? Colin wondered where</div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATEiISHyrzpz1GNVfFvvsBjUAr7-RiIkjVPOnq4X5lPm8CRInLgtlPibjeBZtvdUIeF1PXpRrCipR7ufABx4fSyvobW1NtMmwfIziNH3Avk1-ZOrTkWz2HK3dbKaaV_U_xVZXLN1eZaX02a2fcARLhtr2aM5xYGzDoeOUmy1320VprW4WgFhvoOmtPw/s320/maxresdefault%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>Che was getting at? Che assigned himself and Colin to do something with the <u style="font-style: italic;">WWE</u>. Colin's passion for the sport <b><u>RAN</u> <u>DEEP</u>!</b> He watched and <u style="font-weight: bold;">built</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">memories</u> bonding with Casey, over the sport. Colin got <u style="font-weight: bold;">into</u> it. So, the idea of being anywhere <u style="font-style: italic;">near</u> wrestling was <u>both</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thrilling</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">WEIRDLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">intimidating</u>. Stephanie McMahon invited them. Their <u>first</u> stop was <u style="font-style: italic;">Monday Night Raw</u> in Philly. So, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">work</u> schedule of these wrestlers. He was <b><u>AMAZED</u>!</b> Colin was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">impressed</u> by the <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> operation and how much everyone <u style="font-weight: bold;">cared</u> about the <u>last</u> <u>minute</u> detail that required <u style="font-weight: bold;">SERIOUS</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>dedication. Before they were <u>allowed</u> to wrestle, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> pass a physical. A doctor came to their <u style="font-style: italic;">SNL</u> offices and took their lab(s) work. Other office members thought of a drug test around. Colin's labs shown a low account of <u style="font-style: italic;">Vitamin D</u>. They then had to pass a "<i>flexibility</i>" test on the morning of. So, they met with the in-house doctor of <u style="font-style: italic;">WWE</u>. The in-house mantra was <u>NOT</u> <u>DIE</u>! which became Colin's <u>personal</u> mantra in this situation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3NnyQO6dOkEHGZh4VkUwf7lkwIkQ0hPQ3L2hXt2xRAsnC16D4vc0aC4-YyCwXDXyl8g8du0DTFIl_WRNDoeo0SEr2K3WpjrMtEaQTkW9A6eWQ_Jf7M92PEX-O2zHVPlQ8cp1Gp3ubQ0vpeFk8g__3oJwe5KXokMIcPR7wjx5tkfhprKSDIn9Pfl88A/s3000/the-70th-primetime-emmy-awards-pictured-hosts-colin-jost-news-photo-1017283898-1537201976.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2254" data-original-width="3000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3NnyQO6dOkEHGZh4VkUwf7lkwIkQ0hPQ3L2hXt2xRAsnC16D4vc0aC4-YyCwXDXyl8g8du0DTFIl_WRNDoeo0SEr2K3WpjrMtEaQTkW9A6eWQ_Jf7M92PEX-O2zHVPlQ8cp1Gp3ubQ0vpeFk8g__3oJwe5KXokMIcPR7wjx5tkfhprKSDIn9Pfl88A/w320-h240/the-70th-primetime-emmy-awards-pictured-hosts-colin-jost-news-photo-1017283898-1537201976.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>They were sent to a practice warm-up. They were taught basic moves. Beyond that, they had <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">little</u> idea about what would happen. Colin had his <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> family/friends come to <u style="font-style: italic;">WrestleMania</u>. Taking cues from John Cena about the sensation. After it was over, Che asked how Colin felt. . .being <u>one</u> of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEST</u> moments of Colin's life. The entire next week, Colin was congratulated & <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> for his being on <u style="font-style: italic;">WrestleMania</u>. Colin felt like a superhero, for a day. Che talked Colin into wrestling and Colin talked him into the <u style="font-style: italic;">Emmy</u>'s.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colin traveled to Central America 6 different times and had never had a problem before. Outside of being held at gunpoint by the police in Guatemala, and threatened to be thrown in jail unless paid a ransom of $200. There was a time where Colin contacted a parasite in Honduras and had had stomach pains for <u>months</u> until he had to give a bowel sample. Colin had to go through several rounds of antibiotics until it was absolved. Colin had <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> had a problem in Central America before. So, when he was bitten by something in Nicaragua in 2019, Colin figured it was a tiny mosquito bite and blew it off. Then, Colin <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> it wasn't just <u>one</u> bite. There were <u>6</u> bites on his <u>right</u> leg and <u>3</u> <u>more</u> on his left. Colin thought they were mosquito bites. The hotel they lodged in had an <u>incredible</u> <u>homemade</u> rum, so that <u style="font-weight: bold;">helped</u> <u>ignore</u> the bites for a couple of days. <u style="font-style: italic;">It was vacation</u>. Everything else came along with it. When Colin got home, he was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shocked</u> by the remanence of his leg.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAK8tYbe5hbPTYGNj369Ho_dnmQQh6DJJFR6ssw-8xb7GuuZCrmuGwaPwSuQSCbN-lDz3-ZOR-pPihV3fuMVqOegxJWAiL1e7BlRPxtsH0RsDSyFB4T0u8hPcZqL-H3F-eEyZEg0YKcAG7-GMilLNMzZfQwGJrJmOO9zCni-uSi6tksD1K9frehvvP3A/s525/eggs.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="525" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAK8tYbe5hbPTYGNj369Ho_dnmQQh6DJJFR6ssw-8xb7GuuZCrmuGwaPwSuQSCbN-lDz3-ZOR-pPihV3fuMVqOegxJWAiL1e7BlRPxtsH0RsDSyFB4T0u8hPcZqL-H3F-eEyZEg0YKcAG7-GMilLNMzZfQwGJrJmOO9zCni-uSi6tksD1K9frehvvP3A/s320/eggs.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">eggs in Colin's leg<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>After pressing down on his skin, instead of his skin bouncing back, it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">indented</u>. Like any other guy, he texted a photo to his mom. Kerry replied <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u>. She asked the usual <u>MOM</u>/why questions. Come to find out. . .Colin had MRSA. . diagnosed from his mom, whom is an RN, who suggested her son <u>start</u> on antibiotics <b><u>ASAP</u>!</b> Just in case. Colin took <u style="font-style: italic;">Doxycycline</u> that his mom perscribed, but <u>didn't</u> work. Colin was <u>particularly</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">freaked</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">out</u> due to a friend from high school who <u>almost</u> died from MRSA. Others Colin knew suffered the <u>same</u> that <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">fatal</u>.Colin took the <u style="font-style: italic;">Doxycycline</u> and waited for 3 days, but his leg only <u style="font-weight: bold;">worsened</u>. Enter Doctor #2 that Carrie referred her son to whom <b><u>agreed</u></b> with Carrie.<u>They</u> agreed to send Colin for a second opinion because his leg <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> improving. This also happened to be a <u>show</u> week at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. So, Colin would stay up until 5AM writing sketches, sleep a few hours at work, and run to the hospital for what became a <u>daily</u> 8AM leg exam. Lorne's office referred Colin to Lorne's doctor (<i>Doctor #3</i>); which charged $2,000/hour, which <u>worried</u> Colin due to expenses. The doctor then turned to his computer and went to <u style="font-style: italic;">WebMD</u>. It was <u>NOT</u> this doctor's <u>expertise</u>. He then typed in Colin's symptoms and looked concerned. Then, he went to <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u> images. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">looking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">things</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u>, it was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> "<i>Scared Straight</i>" moment for Colin. He turned to face Colin and was referred elsewhere to infectious diseases. He went back to <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u> from 2A-7A. The next morning, Colin met with infectious disease doctors. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After showing the doctor his leg, the doctor's face <u>lit</u> <u>up</u>. He scalped a piece of Colin's leg centered on the dark spots of infection. Sending them back to the <u style="font-style: italic;">C.D.C</u><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span> for testing. After questions and examinations, the doctor seemed <u>giddy</u> to share his diagnosis. Best case scenario - wait for the eggs to hatch <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> Colin's leg. Having to run its course for the larva growing under Colin's skin and removing it with tweezers. <u>The BEST</u> case scenario is MRSA - which is <u>TREATABLE</u>! Kill the infection by <u style="font-style: italic;">freezing</u> it. Hoping it heals itself; that does leave scarring. But, start with the basics and treat the MRSA while waiting for the rest of the results. . .going from there! Colin went back to work and started a new round of antibiotics, and began "<i>suffocating the larva</i>" with tape and bandages.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">By the time the show happened on Saturday night, the swelling had gone down and Colin had removed the remaining 8 "<i>sites</i>" from his leg with tweezers. Colin's colleagues were <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u> supportive. After going to the doctor the following week for a checkup, they were <u>pleased</u> with Colin's progress. <b><u>BETTER</u>!</b> It should continue healing on its own. Colin has a recurring <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of being mediocre. Colin had worked at a variety show for the past 15+ years, and variety is <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> what Colin <b><u>craved</u></b> in his life - in his career, in his friends he's made, the ladies he's dated and others he's admired. One of the reasons for doing 100 things <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">once</u> is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of failing. Colin has always had a foot out the door in case life turned sour on a great moment. His <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of leaving <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. is due to finding <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> better. Colin will miss it when the day comes. It has been his <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> identity thus far, as well as the <u style="font-weight: bold;">vast</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">majority</u> of his career. Colin has been <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> & <u>lucky</u> to be at <u style="font-style: italic;">S.N.L</u>. this long. When he looks back someday, Colin's time at the show will be the <u>best</u> years of his life. . . .or so he thinks.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Since this book's publication:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Outside of work, Colin's life <u><b>increased</b></u> immensely with <u>pleasure</u>. He has since become a husband to muti-<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViem2rBIVc1BRlQHlp4rK8vAEOWqM5IOLIJKk1PQHoy0l_bwxlzThs3pQGYMqQI4m2bNoHvkWyd_T4fAoP8TQOLiFCxW5f9AikDa5k32yOAtlOebS4VVQILWN4IiU60jVfxczFZs8-59uDn3oBAXJEoSkGOxgfwUX1keTF1tfbAtcxbYZ5v5FmjK6Ow/s1024/EC5F4DF9-82AD-4F85-A50C-285C69F85EC2-1024x1024.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgViem2rBIVc1BRlQHlp4rK8vAEOWqM5IOLIJKk1PQHoy0l_bwxlzThs3pQGYMqQI4m2bNoHvkWyd_T4fAoP8TQOLiFCxW5f9AikDa5k32yOAtlOebS4VVQILWN4IiU60jVfxczFZs8-59uDn3oBAXJEoSkGOxgfwUX1keTF1tfbAtcxbYZ5v5FmjK6Ow/s320/EC5F4DF9-82AD-4F85-A50C-285C69F85EC2-1024x1024.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose and Cosmo</td></tr></tbody></table>award winning actress and all-around <u style="font-weight: bold;">BAD</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ASS</u> to Scarlett Ingrid Johansson...to whom he shares a son, Cosmo Jost in 2021 and a step-daughter, Rose Dorothy Dauriac that he shares with Scarlett.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/d0UEAr8I9G8" width="320" youtube-src-id="d0UEAr8I9G8"></iframe></div> <br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-50946167842858921812022-06-01T23:05:00.002-07:002022-06-06T06:43:25.210-07:00The First Time: Finding Myself and Looking For Love On Reality TV<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0ohUSyj1ycdf23LrOhcMzdpwBdSUfG2j3MT19W5nPRouE0VVLoA0yaMAkevj3HkZv0xVqoeB1qFAysfHWdIn7JgwdYzJtPfUkXgZejZDbEijgFNN0hJoDOk5OGq91OmKW1a0sihyAJu35Rp2cFycbuIDHe8dD_kRYYQAFRg6yk6Mm5TUL3YLs2mMMqg=s2113" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2113" data-original-width="1400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0ohUSyj1ycdf23LrOhcMzdpwBdSUfG2j3MT19W5nPRouE0VVLoA0yaMAkevj3HkZv0xVqoeB1qFAysfHWdIn7JgwdYzJtPfUkXgZejZDbEijgFNN0hJoDOk5OGq91OmKW1a0sihyAJu35Rp2cFycbuIDHe8dD_kRYYQAFRg6yk6Mm5TUL3YLs2mMMqg=w265-h400" width="265" /></a></div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> This next book tells the <b><u>TRUE</u> </b>story of one </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">popular</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> man's </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">struggle</span></span></u></b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">OWN</span></span></u></b> <u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">HIS</span></span></u> <b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">TRUTH</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">!</span></span><u> </u></b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">While fighting hardships and making </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">GENUINE</span></span></u></b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> mistakes, steam-rolling others in punishment...this book details the story of one man's </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">STRUGGLE</span></span></u></b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to be </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">FREE</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">!</span></span></b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> This book tells the story from one whom </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">HAD</span></span></u></b> <u><b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">TO</span></span></b></u> <b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">unburden</span></span></u> </b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">himself</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> the only way he knew how. From athlete, to </span></span><u style="font-style: italic;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">Bachelor</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> contestant, to being his </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">TRUE</span></span></u> <u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">AUTHENTIC</span></span></u></b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> self...here is the story of what we </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><u>DIDN'T</u> </span></span></span><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">KNOW</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> from finding himself to </span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">TRULY</span></u></span><b> </b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">loving and </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">ACCEPTING</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> himself; Colton Scott Underwood.</span></span><div><br /></div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">Let's start with this...It's </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">okay</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">! It's okay to laugh and cry. Step </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">boldly</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> into the unknown and </span></span><i><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">occasionally</span></span></i><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> jump over a fence. </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">It's</span></span></u> <u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">okay</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to share your heart and show your vulnerability. To love </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">is</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to be vulnerable. In theory...</span></span><u style="font-style: italic;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">The Bachelor</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> therein of itself are a lot like life: Moments coming/going in the blink of an eye. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">Here are </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">facts</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to know about Colton:</span></span></div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">1. He prefers texts over email. Or it's best to just call</span></span></div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">2. He is </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">into</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> country music. Growing up, Colin was Team N'SYNC</span></span></div><div>3. Brussel Sprouts are his favorite food with sushi being a close second</div><div>4. Sangria is his favorite drink. Either that; or a glass of wine</div><div>5. He wears shorts to bed...but <u>nothing</u> if he's alone.</div><div>6. Colton is a <u>neat</u> <u>freak</u>.</div><div>7. He prefers showers over bathing. But, he always showers <u>before</u> a bath.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was during a time when Colton was/is still trying to figure out his life. This much he knew, being with Cassie Randolf was his key to happiness - or so he thought. Colton knew he was supposed to be open-minded; but Cassie was the girl for him. <u style="font-style: italic;">FINALLY</u>! Colton <u>loves</u> the water. He grew up snorkeling and scuba with the family. Colton therein is skilled and confident in his ability. The anticipation made him impatient. Colton is <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> good at waiting around for something to happen, good or bad. Colton teased plans, without revealing specific details, as was his role on <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgU9fgL_cD5E3V384Ick8DYnmXs901rptjSyCdAcrJdYUHuQQEJf4-3r07sK0tJ1zLsGMx4AqvLL4_53ZRYmqXel3ri_mUPAk0b4yNSy6bNbK80ZE0Oia0S83oPA_o6CugPXZcq_isgrvrTToJ-XxXjIe44LM4A_GnlCYhgJriMUsQzWdvKqIQC0GXAXw=s1024" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="1024" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgU9fgL_cD5E3V384Ick8DYnmXs901rptjSyCdAcrJdYUHuQQEJf4-3r07sK0tJ1zLsGMx4AqvLL4_53ZRYmqXel3ri_mUPAk0b4yNSy6bNbK80ZE0Oia0S83oPA_o6CugPXZcq_isgrvrTToJ-XxXjIe44LM4A_GnlCYhgJriMUsQzWdvKqIQC0GXAXw=w320-h227" title="Colton & Cassie" width="320" /></a></div>Colton & Cassie were eager to get to know each other. <u>Aware</u> that Cassie was studying speech pathology, Colton revealed he himself struggled with a lisp s a kid and <u>still</u> has trouble with his S's when he gets <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxious</u>. So, Cassie offered to help him. Cassie asked Colton a question in which he <u style="font-weight: bold;">internalized</u> and is perplexed. . .How Do You Not Know By Now? <u>Blank</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">point</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> what she meant, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> prepared for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">directness</u> and <u>honesty</u> of her <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">valid</u> question. How could Colton answer a question that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">DID</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> have an answer for? <u>In</u> <u>that</u> <u>instant</u>, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> a young woman looking at him with an <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> curiosity that she was dully entitled to!</div><div><br /></div><div>They were <u>more</u> than a month into filming <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u> and its spin-off. Cassie sent his heart aflutter and dance with desire, Colton's emotions for her were <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>. That, in of itself, is <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">SCARY</u>! Express your vulnerability and risk the hurt. On top of that, millions of people were watching. Therein, how did Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u>? Cassie asked herself the same question regarding Colton. <u>Everyone</u> on the show was. Colon had spent <u>years</u> thinking about falling in love wondering whom that person might be and <u style="font-style: italic;">how</u> would he know it happened? Was love possible. . .even on a reality show? Colton was only 26-yrs-old at the time. He was trying to figure himself out. One question only led to more. <u>Who</u> was Colton? Identity and the search for it <u>began</u> a lifelong quest. As a little boy, as a teenager, and finally into adulthood. Then, came the question about sexuality. Some questions Colton knew to ask . . . some he didn't. How would he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u>? One thing was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ABSOLUTELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CERTAIN</u>! Colton was in a state of confusion. On top of that, he also had Cassie.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdvcmANSCHVdBke-G6Expke8ISkqqfrKBHFsd7zTAq-Wlh7XDd-y-OAdzDybEJVHaEl4Zy4pnVKAUcXstoHcKe6j435WrzWeSURDs-XvAHJRTND9ZOekqmW-70zRY9ekU7BMbHJgwlzZL3eDl9sznYLUZtDaXA20mceOfYQ-S4M-25wthLPEBLB69ODQ=s3840" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdvcmANSCHVdBke-G6Expke8ISkqqfrKBHFsd7zTAq-Wlh7XDd-y-OAdzDybEJVHaEl4Zy4pnVKAUcXstoHcKe6j435WrzWeSURDs-XvAHJRTND9ZOekqmW-70zRY9ekU7BMbHJgwlzZL3eDl9sznYLUZtDaXA20mceOfYQ-S4M-25wthLPEBLB69ODQ=w320-h180" width="320" /></a></div>When they were on the Islands, Colton told Cassie that he didn't like playing games. How could he look her in her eyes and say anything without sounding disingenuous? <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u> and its off-spring shows were a dating show on steroids. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Excitement</u> and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> ride on the same ticket. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> the feelings <u>weren't</u> there. Was it even <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u> love? How did Colton not know? He seen it through the eyes of poet Alfred Lord Tennyson. In the end, was it <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u>worth</u> it? Colton hated to lose. He was still nursing a broken heart after being dumped a year prior from his first <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> relationship. When he loved and opened his heart, Colton was <b><u>ALL</u> <u>IN</u>!</b> His heart was <b><u>OPEN</u> <u>WIDE</u>!</b> But, with a broken heart comes a lot of bruises hard to touch. Colton, himself, is sensitive, perhaps overly and unexpectedly so. While Colton had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GREAT</u> childhood, he still felt the scars from his parents divorce. A hit that was just as ferocious as those on the football field. Some hits are harder to get up from. As Colton said before, he loves his parents, Donna & Scott. They are also his best friends. Colton still finishes <u>every</u> call saying he loves them. After becoming college sweethearts and graduation, they married. Within a year, they had a family.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhM0JTtAMhXW3Ztjo1FOCZDnlm7pMC1PM65o9ZQTIAueZFLw54Q4Jrzg0pmrtSTYB-iuDjBUgT9uUOEwyoxfrsegH2Y5FNA9cL0Vu9nbsBU_ydmrFnbKhgGyLILThDKZEaYzGXQPznhqWLYw4bhLttUpZ13_tQkTKny4tO94i6khGAyUyBknKPsTuvAvg=s619" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="411" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhM0JTtAMhXW3Ztjo1FOCZDnlm7pMC1PM65o9ZQTIAueZFLw54Q4Jrzg0pmrtSTYB-iuDjBUgT9uUOEwyoxfrsegH2Y5FNA9cL0Vu9nbsBU_ydmrFnbKhgGyLILThDKZEaYzGXQPznhqWLYw4bhLttUpZ13_tQkTKny4tO94i6khGAyUyBknKPsTuvAvg=s320" width="212" /></a></div><br />Colton Scott Underwood was born January 26, 1992. His brother, Connor, was born 18 months later. When Colton was 6 years old, the family moved to Washington, IL. where his dad grew up. As Scott grew his construction business, he inherited a 20-acre plot of land and began turning it into a family compound, with homes from the <u>family</u>. Connor grew up <u>surrounded</u> by family. He was related to everyone on his block. They even vacationed as a family unit. As the family got older, they added an annual vacation to Mexico or various locations. Colton & Connor grew up in a paradise for boys. Given their father's background, putting on a helmet and pads was inevitable. Connor joined the team the following year. Colton was a <u>big</u> kid and <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u>, but also overweight, goofy and awkward. In addition to being <u>KNOWN</u> in his high school, as well as his father's job, Colton had grown and began to slim down. He was still pudgy, but that fat had turned to muscle from his work <u>paying</u> <u>off</u> spent lifting weights to <u>one</u> <u>day</u> turn pro like his idols; Michael Strahan & Payton Manning.</div><div><br /></div><div>With <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> work, Colton was the only kid to get 3 jerseys. . .making the freshman and sophomore team. He was then put on varsity. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">WORKED</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">PROVE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HIMSELF</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">AVOID</u> Nepotism. His work paid off. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> he was big, strong & fast. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">THRIVED</u> in the sport. <u>Despite</u> the outward appearance, Colton was shy, introverted and insecure. He was on his way to scholarship if he <u style="font-weight: bold;">worked</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u>, which he did. Discipline and <u style="font-weight: bold;">working</u> his craft and another growth spurt turned Colton into an <u>elite</u> competitor. The best and <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">meaningful</u> accolade Colton received was a write-up in the Peoria newspaper. Scott guided his son through the college process. Between his sophomore and junior years, they visited prospective schools so Colton could work with various recruits. Talk about a <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u> check of what to expect. Colton was body <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">slammed</b> on his back <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> to the ground. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> something he was used to. Scott <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> it <b><u>LIVE</u>!</b> A lesson he <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> forgot. But, Colton wised up. He worked harder and smarter. After more bruising in various states, he picked himself up. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">learned</u> from it and did <u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u>. After weighing his options and <u style="font-weight: bold;">seeing</u> what would be best beneficial; playing <u>defense</u> was his <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEST</u> shot and Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOVED</u> it.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjP-W-CIhE-1C_VoTUcTRGtREJZRd5HLgzRzOZR-K_lv3NEEVnaWQzjPo6ggqlGl2VYuA4u-IW6LPSA5Sz76voSsdk2FeHvCtxjn2ERSNt34wSqI1E-0cj8APgjQyXO1zcLh88SbhQSMqvcDf9NzBTCZIa7YHZldQk6u_qE9_sYZkJTYkHj4flmZODTQw=s667" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjP-W-CIhE-1C_VoTUcTRGtREJZRd5HLgzRzOZR-K_lv3NEEVnaWQzjPo6ggqlGl2VYuA4u-IW6LPSA5Sz76voSsdk2FeHvCtxjn2ERSNt34wSqI1E-0cj8APgjQyXO1zcLh88SbhQSMqvcDf9NzBTCZIa7YHZldQk6u_qE9_sYZkJTYkHj4flmZODTQw=w150-h200" width="150" /></a></div>On February 9, 2009, only a few days later after his 18TH birthday, Colton signed a national letter of intent surrounded by <u style="font-weight: bold;">everyone</u>. The local newspaper covered the event, and celebrated with Colton's <u>favorite</u> dinner. .Mashed Potatoes, hot dogs and cheddar cheese baked in a <u style="font-style: italic;">Pillsbury</u> crescent roll. The lure of Wisconsin was obvious to anyone familiar with collegiate football. It was a BIG TEN school that aired on national television. A ticket into the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. In fear of temptation, Scott sat his son down and reminded him to <u>HONOR</u> his commitments. His word was his <u style="font-weight: bold;">bond</u> and reputation. If you <u>start</u> something, you <u style="font-weight: bold;">FINISH</u> it. Nothing half-ass. Although still in high school, Colton was <u>eager</u> to learn the new system. One day, Colton skipped school and drove to <u style="font-style: italic;">Illinois State University</u> to watch the team practice. Thanks to the coach, the guys at the university <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u> amused, and Colon arrived on to campus the next summer with a target on his back. During training camp, Colton worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> to <u>PROVE</u> himself. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u> to stay in his lane. <u>FOCUS</u> on the mission at hand. Learn to crawl... The advice <u>paid</u> off. Colton was one of 2 <u>freshman</u> who started. With 16 tackles, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">than</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> that he <u>belonged</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Coaches came to Colton's <u>defense</u>. Pro-teams scouted them. Colton was <u>ready</u> for his football career to take off in a big way. <u>All</u> of Colton's hard work seemed like it was paying off. He loved playing college football and his dream seemed just around the corner. It was a helluva good time....<u>until</u> it wasn't. Colton was with 3 roommates, whose weekend pursuits of a "<i>typical</i>" college boy. They teased Colton for being a <u>straight</u> arrow, but he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> comfortable being anything else. Colton, <u>therein</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> looking back. Colton was mellow with his family, as he was <u>every</u> weekend. He was a <u>homebody</u>, but he <u>enjoyed</u> hanging out with his family. Until Colton & Connor were given word of their parents divorce. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">EMOTION</u> was written in their parents faces...but the <u>verbal</u> news to Colton was a shell-shock. <u>Emotionally</u> knocking Colton on his ass. Colton seen divorce as the ultimate failure. Colton felt the walls of his security fall apart coming down. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u> he felt was anger. Anger that raged and boiled until it consumed him. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">bolt</u> and get <u>out</u> <u>of</u> <u>there</u>! Colton flashed a defiant look. He got in his <u style="font-style: italic;">Jeep</u> and got the hell out of <u>DODGE</u>! He <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> get away <u style="font-weight: bold;">fast</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u> back to school. </div><div><br /></div><div>As a college junior, Colton's efforts on the football field earned him All-American. He was 6'3, with a weight of 265LB. He was the picture statuesque of a hyper-masculine strongman, the star player. But, the impression Colton gave on the field <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> <u>reflect</u> the emotional and vulnerabilty's he <u style="font-weight: bold;">struggled</u> with off the field. Trauma from middle school due to bullying resurrected on the field to be aggressively avenged then. But in the weeks/months of Colton's parents divorce, he <u>lost</u> it. Colton's size/strengths hid the fact that he was still a 19-yr-old kid in <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shock</u>. Under <u>normal</u> circumstances, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">would've</u> gone to his parents, for help, but how could he? He tried to deal with it on his own, but he felt disappointed and let down. Colton's faith was <u style="font-style: italic;">shaken</u>. Although he never went to church regularly, Colton <u>still</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to believe in God. One day in the middle of football practice, Colton ran off the field <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">feeling</b> <u>strange</u> and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxious</u>. When he got to the sideline, Colton got down on one knee, out of breath, and feeling out of control. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> focused on football. His thoughts were racing. Scott had put their house up for sale. Both of his parents were moving to Denver for a <u>fresh</u> start. Being a child of divorce, even at 19, you wonder about you. <b> </b> </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvwQJVS8LCprwEKv13TfAIreLvytZ1CfG7RnPoxxA9jpnmACFKouEG3TSON0pI667beKxTzCHt1J4YBV4cXyhQHoHFSOZ_ZC3WEtZ5zL75WoilH8BT0-U-R9k8RMFXjFea1xipiobNFf_hq4nTK69WnyKgoHUR_1Ff4cfaKOhe3aE4bq169DuPZ9Li9g=s3200" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1801" data-original-width="3200" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvwQJVS8LCprwEKv13TfAIreLvytZ1CfG7RnPoxxA9jpnmACFKouEG3TSON0pI667beKxTzCHt1J4YBV4cXyhQHoHFSOZ_ZC3WEtZ5zL75WoilH8BT0-U-R9k8RMFXjFea1xipiobNFf_hq4nTK69WnyKgoHUR_1Ff4cfaKOhe3aE4bq169DuPZ9Li9g=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></div>The coach had run over to Colton's location as Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to catch his <u style="font-style: italic;">heaving</u> breath. He could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LONGER</u> hold it in and the dam just <u>broke</u>. Colton explained his family situation. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOST</u> it. He felt <u>betrayed</u>. A week later, Colton went over to his coach's house for dinner as they <u>talked</u> and <u>discussed</u> the outcome of Colton's situation at home. More of a thinking out loud process. Putting the pieces of a fractured puzzle together in his mind. As he recounted these events to his coach, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> his naivete. But, his parents made the best of it. Making the <u><b>un</b>comfortable</u> <u>comfortable</u>. Colton went through a brief stretch when he would show up at home without calling. Psychologically, he wanted to return to his <u>childhood</u> home. . .which was vastly disappearing. Something Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">AWARE</u> of it. Whatever it was, Donna wanted it to stop. Colton's coach kept his eye on him all season. Keeping in touch with him <u>outside</u> of the realm of football. <i>This would explain Colton's reasoning and demeanor further in life's projections</i>. Colton seen his coach as someone to lean on. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes in his conversations with his coach, Colton would go overboard; with his coach being <u>patient</u> and <u>understanding</u>, would rein Colton in and call him out on his shit. <u>Outside</u> of the realm of football, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">excruciatingly</u> antisocial. Colton was <u>always</u> <u>invited</u> out, but politely declined what wasn't for him. He would binge T.V. or video games. After the football season, Colton spent nearly every weekend at home in Washington. Crashing with his grandparents after his parents' relocation to Denver. Occasionally, his roommates <u>pressed</u> him to stay/share in their fun. Colton always <u style="font-weight: bold;">made</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u> an <u style="font-weight: bold;">excuse</u> why he never partaked. <u>At</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u>, it was <u>easier</u> to lie than to <u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u>! One day, Colton was called out on it. He was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u> and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u>. He just <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">like</u> being put in an <u>awkward</u> situation. That was the <u>end</u> <u>of</u> <u>that</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> brought up again until Colton was <b><u>READY</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUwsjnzfXLCGWQ23Ct9QC8xFZfgVXrOWUx8WmrHjVyELwD9QHbagtbXdmKBt1BVYBuKuzA88bN_Pue0S_MrnaZWS92SkQViF1PJZj8jrQABlI2GCbrFKwgNGkxEcpuoqKdgjl9xsJUWqDofP_Fugk8PeG7rnLm-i5XGE57qPpNINBRQLibY6NsytDglw=s780" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="780" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUwsjnzfXLCGWQ23Ct9QC8xFZfgVXrOWUx8WmrHjVyELwD9QHbagtbXdmKBt1BVYBuKuzA88bN_Pue0S_MrnaZWS92SkQViF1PJZj8jrQABlI2GCbrFKwgNGkxEcpuoqKdgjl9xsJUWqDofP_Fugk8PeG7rnLm-i5XGE57qPpNINBRQLibY6NsytDglw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton's parents: Scott & Donna</td></tr></tbody></table>The benefit of having a straight-narrow player like Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> a <u>positive</u> outlook on the town for the coaching staff. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Proving</u> more than Colton could handle. Their <u style="font-weight: bold;">differences</u> between Colton and the team were <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> and oftentimes <u>challenging</u>, but their <u style="font-weight: bold;">bond</u> created among teammates were <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>! His junior team was his <u style="font-weight: bold;">best</u> one yet. Despite a torn hamstring, Colton led the conference in quarterback sacks and received first-team all-American honors. Pro-scouts <u>asked</u> to meet with him. Agents called Scott and his coach. As time passed, a sense of normalcy abound. Some of the wounds <u>felt</u> like they were healing. As life moved on and progressed, Colton came to see that although Donna & Scott were his parents, they were also people. Scott his his <u>best</u> <u>friend</u>. Donna is his <u>confidant</u> whose opinion Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">values</u>. Family dynamics change and <u>everyone</u> is <u>okay</u>.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFU9rGDVRfhpid-6HOIR6TDzeICUIxESJhPBppcjEgSE74KJ9ptlpgGu4wDEMGWJO0JkYf1oyzwv_tFl2GgrGczNXH135DygxynwhJCdK9_hQAThhsQ7qTWYIfKzdG6DUt_ZHjrjnZb1nbTvQ3F7gh7CqGBbuozsErGiJDE7E3qDizX91PbtyyeTwp8Q=s238" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="238" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFU9rGDVRfhpid-6HOIR6TDzeICUIxESJhPBppcjEgSE74KJ9ptlpgGu4wDEMGWJO0JkYf1oyzwv_tFl2GgrGczNXH135DygxynwhJCdK9_hQAThhsQ7qTWYIfKzdG6DUt_ZHjrjnZb1nbTvQ3F7gh7CqGBbuozsErGiJDE7E3qDizX91PbtyyeTwp8Q" width="238" /></a></div>In Colton's senior year, it was the first game of the season. He had been voted team captain. A few weeks later, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">WENT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DOWN</u><span style="font-weight: bold;">! <u>Shouting</u> <u>every</u> </span><u>curse</u> word he knew as he <u style="font-weight: bold;">crashed</u> on the field filling with an <u style="font-weight: bold;">explosive</u> clarity matched by the pain in his knee. In that moment, Colton just <u>prayed</u> his dreams of an <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L.</u> weren't blown. Colton limped off the field and went <u>straight</u> into the locker room, slapped on a knee brace and got <u>back</u> <u>in</u> <u>the</u> <u>game</u>. The next day, Colton went to the hospital for an X-Ray. It showed a torn LCL. Colton kept the knee brace on, threw pain meds down his throat and played the rest of the season. Therefore, Colton had an <u>outstanding</u> season and was named to <u>4</u> First-Team All-American lists. With his sights <u>set</u> on going PRO, Colton signed himself with an agent and <u>readied</u> himself. Her rehabbed his knee and <u style="font-weight: bold;">strengthened</u> himself at <u style="font-style: italic;">St. Vincent High Performance Training Facility</u> in Indy.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7HFr-xsMtA5Cp3fjt2Tklp-pbgzGOkh7yJS55UD_U71GZCK839Uv8Bg6BAnD2VoqFH7yQSd6vDoBJAQA4Y3Wivi9Ux4hw_xjwl9nPMb-_rKp8nd5LmBEKZHKuqWjWlKwjve-G6PVw9qlOqq2Y1znuYUnVmasoBlWz7_YMK_NnbrZDmyV29hIumu0wiQ=s259" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7HFr-xsMtA5Cp3fjt2Tklp-pbgzGOkh7yJS55UD_U71GZCK839Uv8Bg6BAnD2VoqFH7yQSd6vDoBJAQA4Y3Wivi9Ux4hw_xjwl9nPMb-_rKp8nd5LmBEKZHKuqWjWlKwjve-G6PVw9qlOqq2Y1znuYUnVmasoBlWz7_YMK_NnbrZDmyV29hIumu0wiQ=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div>Former teammates, Nate Palmer & Mike Zimmer, offered their encouragement. They <u>honored</u> and <u>believed</u> Colton was <u style="font-style: italic;">NFL</u> material. Colton spoke out giving interviews with word of mouth. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> the resolve. But, when invitations went out for scouting, one door <u>closed</u> so another could <u>later</u> <u>open</u>. Due to his knee injury; he had to put <u>more</u> work into it. Colton ended the day still <u>hopeful</u> about the draft. While he was getting feedback from scouts, Colton was given pep talks from his dad and coach. The future was looking up. Then on May 8TH, 2014, the <i><u>N.F.L</u>.</i> draft. <u style="font-style: italic;">Excited</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">nervous</u>, Colton watched the live event on <u style="font-style: italic;">ESPN</u> from Scott's house in Denver. Colton invited Donna to watch with them, and she <u>accepted</u> the invitation. For Scott & Donna to <u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>, the draft and his dream of getting to the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. was that <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u> of a deal. It was a <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">family</b> <u>reunited</u>; new and extended, and blended. In that aspect, Colton <u>felt</u> like a winner.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigaRfgDXoaZZmZyXdFgRoqKOjesInIYdPUmQi4Ze8qJhLJ6fMDe4szUOySJAbdUaZ3QdIbF3P4WQmS-F-jTCU0-qy2pQ9iZi33WcaaAstA6VPt8_KkLS5or4Be2R0TlwQCshLZOcDZV2EJYIp2RhzYO_lYUMtRrcwyAc3NoEjdlvDDrPayPbZfDsxu0g=s1000" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigaRfgDXoaZZmZyXdFgRoqKOjesInIYdPUmQi4Ze8qJhLJ6fMDe4szUOySJAbdUaZ3QdIbF3P4WQmS-F-jTCU0-qy2pQ9iZi33WcaaAstA6VPt8_KkLS5or4Be2R0TlwQCshLZOcDZV2EJYIp2RhzYO_lYUMtRrcwyAc3NoEjdlvDDrPayPbZfDsxu0g=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div>Colton <u>didn't</u> <u>expect</u> to get picked in the first round on Day 1, so they watched it <u>together</u> as a family like old times. On Day 3, Colton's agent called to have him <u>be</u> <u>ready</u> for teams to call after hearing some buzz on him. Colton was interested in any team that had viable <u style="font-weight: bold;">interest</u> in him. As time went on and drafts passed, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeply</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">depressed</u> and <u>feeling</u> the dream failing to materialize <u>despite</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">working</u> his <u style="font-weight: bold;">ass</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">off</u> his <u>entire</u> life when for the 7TH round come around . . .the phone began to ring. On the other end of the line was head coach, Jim Harbaugh, of the <u style="font-style: italic;">San Francisco 49ers</u>. As they <u>chatted</u>, Colton missed calls from 4 various teams. <i style="font-weight: bold;">One person's loss is another man's treasure</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiHs4Lfua3_G4a7AP8awl6tu103x_ce__RxAfil_AP076ylECM_8dpCH7NpQjCN3F_7wjvNRFjip7K3TjZGhSKxKCEelPvwFzpcqx9TL7hUVUTW8uTroZJNfcVktUCV8cRptiO8i4u6K-kNk8l4zqqQe1eALuSOTVVVjJeT6Tb-v3BkuwhLbfFKylB0g=s385" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="354" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiHs4Lfua3_G4a7AP8awl6tu103x_ce__RxAfil_AP076ylECM_8dpCH7NpQjCN3F_7wjvNRFjip7K3TjZGhSKxKCEelPvwFzpcqx9TL7hUVUTW8uTroZJNfcVktUCV8cRptiO8i4u6K-kNk8l4zqqQe1eALuSOTVVVjJeT6Tb-v3BkuwhLbfFKylB0g=w184-h200" width="184" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dwight Freeney</td></tr></tbody></table>Before he knew it, <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> had signed Colton. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u> of his <u>hopes</u> and<br /> <u>anticipation</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">evaporated</u>. When you're down, your family is there to pick you up. Once the news was out, Colton's agent advised him to <b><u>NOT</u> <u>GIVE</u> <u>UP</u>!</b> He sure wasn't going to! Though he went undrafted; over the next week, 6-or-7 teams extended their contracts to him, including the <u style="font-style: italic;">49ers</u>, offering him $15,000 to sign. Colton <u>politely</u> declined due to it being a cheap shot compared to what they've given others. So, back to the drawing board. In need of a linebacker, Colton signed with the <u style="font-style: italic;">San Diego Chargers</u>. <u>This</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dream</u>. Colton was suited up and on the field with the team's future <u style="font-style: italic;">Hall Of Fame</u> quarterback and many more. One afternoon, as Colon walked back to his hotel room from the practice facility, Colton was offered a ride from his hero and childhood idol, Dwight Freeney, and played it <u>cool</u> until he was back in his hotel room. Then, Colton called his dad and turned into a 10-yr-old again.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3WJgCvBQZ4JnkMWFICFbbl7zfsKrE8eBwOq45Nbp2Q0Ze2FLeygeW8Cc76BunPqRl82alFWUsYrfVusDS9QhPVCgx9vZEU1h2VpsAaO1w8MNhTt8MINvsbCzfMGO5qcsTiggI4-vwpYObRBeRFhYdxqc4jvPa4KxowQOEziTFOr72gbll4DvrL_Aw2A=s1500" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1500" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3WJgCvBQZ4JnkMWFICFbbl7zfsKrE8eBwOq45Nbp2Q0Ze2FLeygeW8Cc76BunPqRl82alFWUsYrfVusDS9QhPVCgx9vZEU1h2VpsAaO1w8MNhTt8MINvsbCzfMGO5qcsTiggI4-vwpYObRBeRFhYdxqc4jvPa4KxowQOEziTFOr72gbll4DvrL_Aw2A=w200-h100" width="200" /></a></div>In his first pre-game season, Colton made 2 tackles, including 9 15-yard sack of the opposing quarterback. Colton felt like the coaching staff seen him as an <u style="font-weight: bold;">added</u> value to the team. Scott flew into town to watch his son play and <u>soak</u> <u>up</u> some of the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. atmosphere. Scott was <u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u> whenever Colton suffered a crisis. After a <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">horrible</u> reaction from contact lens <u>cleaner</u> <u>instead</u> of <u>solution</u>, Colton was pulled from practice, put in a dark room and given <u style="font-style: italic;">Vicodin</u>; which gave a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HORRIBLE</u> reaction <u style="font-weight: bold;">crippling</u> him with <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXTREME</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ANXIETY</u> about <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Paranoia</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">massively</u> abound to where Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">rushed</u> to the <span style="color: red;">E.R.</span> He was given morphine and examined by the ophthalmologist. Colton had circular burns almost down to his corneas. <u>Luckily</u> for him, Colton's eyes healed quickly and needed only a couple of weeks to recuperate. Although Colton was advised to sue, he knew it wasn't worth it in the long run. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> no other team would ever touch him again if he filed. Colton's options were <u>limited</u>. Considering them, Colton put a pair of purple rec specs and kept playing. At the end of camp, in late August, the team <u>finalized</u> its roster for regular season, and Colton's name <u>wasn't</u> on it. He could tell it <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> an easy decision on the coach's part. Colton was put on the waiver's list. He was a good kid. They liked him. They could keep him around. Therein lies the question...How Did Colton <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">NOT</b> know? Heading to Washington to live with his grandparents' basement while going to camp. Colton felt weird and more than little cheated. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">showed</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> his worth. <b><u>How</u> <u>Was</u> <u>That</u> <u>Not</u> <u>Enough</u>?</b> <i style="font-weight: bold;">It's a </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">HORRIBLE</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> feeling to not be wanted</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-MslgGwmeB669LBeqBcio7Dqipw6ZCK6wNbdpUe0c8SPLNFC2SEWeOv_0zjpBwpQckFvM-_8Tkleh0bJfeLF3HzqzdBlNqk7a_tSnkybc4XV-YO4amndvs-BaBxXOb47T0yGnRcs7F71WN7PMAqqtRG9XuDdXwJmhGsrIk36NRJWTECdSC3hVIA3qqA=s825" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="825" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-MslgGwmeB669LBeqBcio7Dqipw6ZCK6wNbdpUe0c8SPLNFC2SEWeOv_0zjpBwpQckFvM-_8Tkleh0bJfeLF3HzqzdBlNqk7a_tSnkybc4XV-YO4amndvs-BaBxXOb47T0yGnRcs7F71WN7PMAqqtRG9XuDdXwJmhGsrIk36NRJWTECdSC3hVIA3qqA=w200-h127" width="200" /></a></div>Despite a bag full of dirty clothes next to his bed from previous travels, Colton got on a plane and flew to San Diego. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Chargers</u> welcomed him with open arms and made him feel like part of the team. As a member of the practice squad, Colton's job was to prep the team for the weekly activities for these games. He took his role <u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u>; pushing himself and therefore setting an example. Every morning, Colton hit the weight room by 4:30A. Then, he hit the sauna, steam room, and hot tub, so his body was <u style="font-weight: bold;">READY</u> for the day. As the season went underway, Colton responded to the routine of life as pro football player. After practice, Colton threw a meal down this throat from the facility and crashed by 8:30A-9:00p at <u style="font-style: italic;">Holiday Inn</u>; where he had a spacious corner room. He hung out with everyone, getting to <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u> them. Exposure to such diversity was one of Colton's <u>favorite</u> aspects of being in the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L.</u> It opened up his eyes-view and <u style="font-weight: bold;">broadening</u> of his world. <i style="font-weight: bold;">The same was therein done for me as a 15-yr-old at an adult dialysis unit in a capital city</i>. Colton began going to a <u>local</u> church and gradually reaffirming his faith in God - and faith in <u>himself</u>. <b><i>Be <u>GRATEFUL</u> FOR THE OPPORTUNITIES GIVEN</i>!<i> </i></b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i></div><div><i style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></div><div><span>Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> a job <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> guaranteed so he <u style="font-weight: bold;">made</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sure</u> his play stood out on the practice fields, but in the football world, actions speak louder than words, it was Colton's words that made the <u style="font-weight: bold;">biggest</u> impression. In response to a practice field question, Colton was asked "<i>What his number was</i>?" in contribution to ladies he's slept with. . .<i>We all know the number game</i>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> thought <u>OH</u> <u>SHIT</u>! After mental languish, Colton went with a here-goes-nothing; balls to the wall truth of <u>zero</u>. The room went <u style="font-weight: bold;">flat</u> and out of air. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> expected this answer. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">even</u> Colton <u>himself</u>. They were 100% <u>supportive</u>. Colton's sex life - or lack thereof one - was one of those things - that <i style="font-weight: bold;">I, again, can <u>personally</u> relate to </i>- life got in the way of having one. Colton was a high school freshman when a <u>female</u> junior became the recipient of his first kiss. Other than a few dates here-and-there, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">focused</u> on football to have extracurricular's, like a girlfriend or a social life. Between workouts, practices, and games, Colton had <b><u>NO</u> <u>TIME</u>!</b> Colton would date ladies. They would get to a point where he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">uncomfortable</u> and say he <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> go home. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Making</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u> excuses. Colton's <u>inability</u> to explain himself made it <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">awkward</u>. How Did Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u>? He <u>just</u> <u>didn't</u>. Colton <u>wished</u> he possessed the maturity to discuss what happened and how he felt. Feeling <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u> and <u>unsure</u> of himself, something few would have <u style="font-weight: bold;">dared</u> suspected of someone his size and stature, as a captain of the football team.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTedpnhOJaZJBgIbk27mVxgON-7q7d4h5aGYJdXlIMAs1_kb4GJ9O9UCgKnljNrOEYK0HISbdsRqmEWUlLlMg-91YzlOfiF3Omjl_ehpyMma4CiEgb9AoDHFrpulfSRZg6rV2jTiYsiJ_eCf2IwGfYouepvk6frl4mBtFHS-T7M55-TnOfz6QLb1XsDQ=s200" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="186" data-original-width="200" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTedpnhOJaZJBgIbk27mVxgON-7q7d4h5aGYJdXlIMAs1_kb4GJ9O9UCgKnljNrOEYK0HISbdsRqmEWUlLlMg-91YzlOfiF3Omjl_ehpyMma4CiEgb9AoDHFrpulfSRZg6rV2jTiYsiJ_eCf2IwGfYouepvk6frl4mBtFHS-T7M55-TnOfz6QLb1XsDQ" width="200" /></a></div>After breaking up with his girlfriend at the time, <u>rumors</u> <u>flew</u> around school that Colton was gay. He resumed the reasons why. The rumor flew <u>fast</u> in their small town that Donna even heard it. They were in the car one day, at a red light, when <u>out</u> <u>of</u> <u>nowhere</u>, Donna showed <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">support</b> of her son's "<i>possible</i>" future. Colton, embarrassed, assured her that that was it was - <u>rumors</u>. He <u>was</u> <u>straight</u>. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> Colton's first time addressing the subject. When Colton was in 9TH grade, he ordered porn on TV; <u>straight</u> <u>and</u> <u>gay</u>. Scott seen a $90 charge on the cable bill and warned he would <u style="font-weight: bold;">KICK</u> his son's <u style="font-weight: bold;">ASS</u> if Colton did it again. Colton <u>didn't</u> <u>think</u> <u>it</u> <u>through</u>. Considering how free it was on the internet. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Unfortunately</u> Colton was busted for that too. The following year, Colton was playing ball in the backyard when Scott called his son into his office. After seeing the <i><u>Google</u> </i>history, which included gay porn sites, came a variety of questions. Therein came a parents <u>concern</u> of questions.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7fGsYbLnvGs9L4b0BT63Vu1LJd68drw5-Sk67grySnQyOKDE9jsT65JOXLeSQEE9kM4pyk5hRqMt2rMohdgKBJzQHVMetvUzebnTKdVrqpJJ5ztMh4qmTeITQmausw87ynADZRVC-Uv-mrK0ew5P0v74bAIIQeuo3F923I2c8qJuyJrKDHIytbARI4w=s774" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="774" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7fGsYbLnvGs9L4b0BT63Vu1LJd68drw5-Sk67grySnQyOKDE9jsT65JOXLeSQEE9kM4pyk5hRqMt2rMohdgKBJzQHVMetvUzebnTKdVrqpJJ5ztMh4qmTeITQmausw87ynADZRVC-Uv-mrK0ew5P0v74bAIIQeuo3F923I2c8qJuyJrKDHIytbARI4w=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton with his dad, Scott</td></tr></tbody></table>At first, Colton <u>denied</u> responsibility. Then, Scott wondered if Colton wanted to discuss it further? Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> figure it out <u style="font-weight: bold;">ON</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HIS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OWN</u>! Colton begged him <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> to tell his mom. Whether Scott did or not, <u>neither</u> <u>of</u> <u>them</u> spoke to their son about it. All that research, even with all immerson therapy, it didn't change who he was or cure him of his fears. It was then that Colton used the internet experience to <u>remain</u> a virgin until he fell in love with someone. Becoming his <u>safety</u> zone. Identity was such a <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u> question mark (?) with him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Who</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">was</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">outside</u><b> </b>of football? At 17, Colton wanted answers <u>without</u> the trial/error. <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOTS</u> of them. <u>None</u> of that history was apparent when Colton came out confessing his <u>virginity</u> at 23 to his teammates. <u>No</u> <u>one</u> asked questions or specifics. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> to them. They were his brothers on/off the field, and they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">supportive</u> of him, as Colton was them. <u style="font-weight: bold;">As</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u> <u>Colton</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">was</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u>. Colton thought what it would be like to fall in love. He seen himself with a family of his own. When Colton was <u>READY</u>! Football was his <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> Colton's teammates told him to have <u>FAITH</u>! Be open. Look For Signs; even a date. . . But, Have Faith.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLOEe-EOrgIJG9YOhxobGwIoBK2tQvE-fsNVwhXzwSWBAV21-nUJVt94YxdZhxeu4I1x7gU2xjaf8p5CF8WglbWo5Ahv6pY4mq7Pkr4nmiICXXRins2BGIC4dU_Ok_ekCLsPk9agcgH2hRadcsG6nFT8p8o6G-YWN47L8sl3q1KtqNTUQLKL2lqxN4dA=s600" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="600" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLOEe-EOrgIJG9YOhxobGwIoBK2tQvE-fsNVwhXzwSWBAV21-nUJVt94YxdZhxeu4I1x7gU2xjaf8p5CF8WglbWo5Ahv6pY4mq7Pkr4nmiICXXRins2BGIC4dU_Ok_ekCLsPk9agcgH2hRadcsG6nFT8p8o6G-YWN47L8sl3q1KtqNTUQLKL2lqxN4dA=s320" width="320" /></a></div>In one of the </span><u style="text-align: left;">final</u><span style="text-align: left;"> preseason practices, Colton pulled his hamstring, and </span><u style="text-align: left;">unfortunately</u><span style="text-align: left;">, that was the end for Colton and the </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Chargers</u><span style="text-align: left;">. The team waived Colton to be injured and credited him the season. The parting was a bittersweet symphony. Colton's leg needed 8 weeks to </span><u style="text-align: left;">properly</u><span style="text-align: left;"> heal. Rehabbing at </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">St. Vincent</u><span style="text-align: left;"> in Indy, and then worked out with various teams. </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">The Oakland Raiders</u><span style="text-align: left;"> liked what they seen and </span><u style="text-align: left;">signed</u><span style="text-align: left;"> Colton to their practice squad in December 2015. Colton was </span><u style="text-align: left;">relieved</u><span style="text-align: left;"> to be </span><u style="text-align: left;">employed</u><span style="text-align: left;">. Re-locating to Oakland, Colton immersed himself in the new system. It would be Colton's 3RD uniform in 2 years, and <u>underscored</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">business</u> aspect of the game. Colton was in the <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">N.F.L</i>; but it was more <u style="font-weight: bold;">gut-churning</u> than it was <u>glory</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Grinding</u> Colton down; physically, emotionally and spiritually. Sensing Colton's state, Raider's QB, Derek Carr, invited Colton to the teams Bible study. Colton sees the direction his life was in this point and threw caution to the wind. Giving it a try. What did he have to lose?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRtFoiTNNwxJTE_amcCC9tn2Ar5ozj2J1Qr9jtYOJ_X0co4DYByBiCnlg6_Hkg8lzIz924e1Z2ls6QgdkRajA3uJtsFcP8aTaW9DUB7jWtQzywG44UkGgcgxU1E0zJ19MuIxFvKvmTcYC6bo723yahBH3zBuKF94T4u5GIDFEnHNA2luxMKpVEZOaP-Q=s1437" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1437" data-original-width="1437" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRtFoiTNNwxJTE_amcCC9tn2Ar5ozj2J1Qr9jtYOJ_X0co4DYByBiCnlg6_Hkg8lzIz924e1Z2ls6QgdkRajA3uJtsFcP8aTaW9DUB7jWtQzywG44UkGgcgxU1E0zJ19MuIxFvKvmTcYC6bo723yahBH3zBuKF94T4u5GIDFEnHNA2luxMKpVEZOaP-Q=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Harper</td></tr></tbody></table>The Bible study met every Thursday morning. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">listened</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">intentively</u> as the guys opened up and confided "<b><i><u>things</u></i></b>" he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> expected or admitted, including their own uncertainties about life. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">impressed</u> by their <u>honesty</u> and <u>inspired</u> by the role <u>faith</u> played in their lives. He was figuring out the same thing. Colton began to seed <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEPER</u> into his relationship with his faith. Colton began to read Bible passages <u>every</u> <u>night</u> and made time during the day to reflect and meditate where his life was at. Aware that he needed to do something <u style="font-weight: bold;">MEANINGFUL</u> with his life, Colton waited until the season ended in January and then launched <u style="font-style: italic;">The Colton Underwood Legacy Foundation</u>; a <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">non-profit</b> to provide equipment and resources to people living with Cystic Fibrosis, inspired by Colton's cousin, Harper. Through Harper's mom, Colton's Aunt Shannon, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">learned</u> of the struggles of other children whom were less fortunate and Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">WANTED</u> to help. He organized a football camp in Washington for 450 kids and by <u>accident</u> raised $50,000. Putting the money to <u style="font-weight: bold;">use</u> in a clinic in Peoria. It was one of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fulfilling</u> days of Colton's life. Throughout this, he continued to play football for the <u style="font-style: italic;">Raiders</u>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Aware this was his make-or-break year in terms of moving up in rank from practice squad to full-time player, Colton invested $15,000 of <u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">own</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">money</u> in a personal trainer and <u style="font-weight: bold;">got</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">work</u> for the linebacker position in the league. After the opening, Colton attended the <u>initial</u> meeting for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> defense. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> told him he was moved to <i>fucking</i> offense. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">clueless</u> on how to handle his <u>new</u> position. Colton hadn't played offense since <u>high</u> <u>school</u>. Even then, Colton played full-back; not tight-end. He couldn't remember the last name he ran a route or caught a pass. <u>It</u> <u>didn't</u> <u>make</u> <u>any</u> <u>sense</u>. Although Colton offered a <u>can</u>-<u>do</u>-<u>attitude</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">mentally</u> Colton was a mess. Then, one day Colton noticed a card on the bulletin board outside the locker room offering mental health services, After practice and in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">privacy</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hotel</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">room</u>, Colton called the number and made an appointment. After <u>one</u> question with the therapist, Colton's floodgates <u style="font-weight: bold;">widened</u> for whatever <u>unknown</u> reason. After <u>one</u> <u>simple</u> <u>question</u>. Colton told the therapist <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> contributing to the <b><u>stress</u></b>, <u><b>pressure</b></u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">anxiety</u>. Therein relation to! There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">pleasure</u> in football. <u>Only</u> <u>a</u> <u>profession</u>. He didn't want to let his father down, <u>among</u> others.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Colton told the therapist <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> Everything he thought was a contributing factor to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">stress</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">pressure</u>, and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiety</u> he felt in regard to football, family and how the 2 overlapped. It felt more like a penance than a passion. He didn't want to let <u>anyone</u> down; <u>especially</u> Scott. Talking <u>helped</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">clarify</u> things. So, Colton had <u style="font-style: italic;">LASIK</u> surgery in June. But then, a few days later, Donna informed her son of Colton's dog, Bullet, needing to be put down. The news hit Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">gut</u>. Raising them from puppies, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Colton and <u style="font-weight: bold;">unconditionally</u> loved him. He burst into tears, caught a plane to Denver and said goodbye. This loss <u style="font-weight: bold;">destroyed</u> Colton to the point of <u>quitting</u> football. After letting time pass, Colton returned to pre-season training camp in August. On the 3RD day, Colton ran <u>flat</u> into getting his knee <u style="font-weight: bold;">blown</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u>! <b><u>BOOM</u>!</b> <b><u>Extreme</u> <u>pain</u>!</b> He felt pain before. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> like this! <u>Slowly</u>. . .Colton got up, unstrapped his helmet, threw it to the ground, and went to the locker room. He was <b><u>DONE</u>!</b> Or so he should've been.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5S1nAS4pjk1bG62LCDLqj6yfhrVvieMuJThpO4XpIYZf3ufBP84J3WUH2DW2Uhv7ZOmlXQItZb6L6BojQKy8CXxnkB_j_0AwemWyeekOVFBCLTtbyPUJmGOSIJetNonWzhy8_NcVLPiPO-5QYoVQ551z0SEcZzgua_8a7xjXEur9TuyLP_HtQLAe-3w=s235" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="235" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5S1nAS4pjk1bG62LCDLqj6yfhrVvieMuJThpO4XpIYZf3ufBP84J3WUH2DW2Uhv7ZOmlXQItZb6L6BojQKy8CXxnkB_j_0AwemWyeekOVFBCLTtbyPUJmGOSIJetNonWzhy8_NcVLPiPO-5QYoVQ551z0SEcZzgua_8a7xjXEur9TuyLP_HtQLAe-3w=w200-h182" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AC Sprain</td></tr></tbody></table>After a brief exam, the training staff diagnosed Colton with an AC Sprain. Colton should recover after 5 days. He didn't buy it. Colton's body was <span style="color: red; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">warning</span><span> him. He couldn't lift his arm without <b><u>EXCRUCIATING</u> <u>PAIN</u>!</b> It hurt to breathe. When Colton questioned them, they called him a pussy. Colton called his agent and <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">insisted</b> on an M.R.I. Colton matched their thoughts and should've been good to go. 5 Days Later, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">suited</u> up and ran out to the field. Colton <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">SCREAMED</u> through <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> practice from the <b><u>PAIN</u>!</b> His body was in <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">SHOCK</u> of <b><u>PAIN</u>!</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span>Finally, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Raiders</u> cut Colton. He was <b><u>SO</u> <u>RELIEVED</u>!</b> At least, <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOW</u> Colton's body could <b><u>HEAL</u>!</b> A few days later, Colton's agent wondered of his progress. Was he ready to go? He was <b><u>NOT</u> <u>READY</u>!</b> His new mission was to <u>get</u> <u>well</u>. After getting another M.R.I., Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEEDED</u> surgery. After informing the <u style="font-style: italic;">Raider's</u> of his condition, expecting them to cover the costs. They bailed on their financial responsibility. Colton disagreed and filed an injury grievance with the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L.</u> Colton's career was <b><u>OVER</u>!</b> What was next and the future plans for Colton? He would try dating.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEeWmKKb4NBBWvy_udw7PaTFZ-ONkYwt8EnQU4x0sRy8_rV_aDCioNyiwL2Sjbu3uDWFo1nfYsUjeQ3kfTLbDUAoh5Des_Xxy5nzUcP_eArOatQewAmW1ogD6lXr_R3yk3_wxR6JWNM2V98YOXtOofzznluBulh9Sq5RmEMazf2Du_foQ40C3p3UbaBw=s1080" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1080" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEeWmKKb4NBBWvy_udw7PaTFZ-ONkYwt8EnQU4x0sRy8_rV_aDCioNyiwL2Sjbu3uDWFo1nfYsUjeQ3kfTLbDUAoh5Des_Xxy5nzUcP_eArOatQewAmW1ogD6lXr_R3yk3_wxR6JWNM2V98YOXtOofzznluBulh9Sq5RmEMazf2Du_foQ40C3p3UbaBw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Aly</td></tr></tbody></table>From high school through college and the pros, Colton was <u>always</u> the guy without a girlfriend, always the guy who was free on the weekend, nothing planned. . .always being setup by others. People introduced Colton in description . .they added, that Colton <u>wasn't</u> gay. Ironic, right? Colton always <u>managed</u> to <u>conjure</u> <u>up</u> an excuse as to why he wasn't available, even though each lady "<i>sounded</i>" like the one of his dreams. One to challenge him, motivate him, make him laugh, chill, and driven to succeed on her own. Colton did everything he could to ensure he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> going to find love; <u>when</u> <u>he</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">said</u> it. . .he was telling the truth. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> was that Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">avoiding</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">LARGE</u> elephant in the room. He did <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> he could to keep himself out of situations that would be <u style="font-weight: bold;">stressful</u> or <u style="font-style: italic;">awkward</u>. Colton didn't spend time with the <u>mental</u> analytics. It was <u>easier</u> to say <b><u>NO</u>!</b> That is until Colton's <u style="font-style: italic;">Raider's</u> teammate, Andrew East, suggested that Colton ask Andrew's wife, Shawn Johnson's, best friend on a date. Andrew & Colton had gotten together to watch the <u style="font-style: italic;">U.S. Women's Gymnastics</u> on TV; marveling as they executed their routines with grace, power, and precision. After the team captured a gold metal, Andrew questioned Colton about Aly Raisman whom they were trying to find a boyfriend, Andrew offered to set the 2 up. Colton wasn't even sure Aly knew who he was. Shawn & Andrew wanted to set it up.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsFbAXJRAsslHsVe9bWVqdWAs8a-hQoYcQF0-5pBGB3G6Z895EBwM38vLxnkJwLAzCjP1QnmCGamuzAkVCLdaWW1dofQKkzz0ipDhRF0Za_WLhj1BAJxE_3-9BRzqGE2RNljKfL36AnHxhuX-8YlWFM3tkJ19tSFB6Rg84P5yMcfCj2UbvhfHYzPlkUw=s600" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="331" data-original-width="600" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsFbAXJRAsslHsVe9bWVqdWAs8a-hQoYcQF0-5pBGB3G6Z895EBwM38vLxnkJwLAzCjP1QnmCGamuzAkVCLdaWW1dofQKkzz0ipDhRF0Za_WLhj1BAJxE_3-9BRzqGE2RNljKfL36AnHxhuX-8YlWFM3tkJ19tSFB6Rg84P5yMcfCj2UbvhfHYzPlkUw=s320" width="320" /></a></div>Colton set up and taped a video congratulating Aly and asking of a double date with him, Shawn & Andrew whenever possible. The setup was cute. Aly, gamely, agreed to a date and Colton found himself feeling <u>incredibly</u> relieved; and strangely even more excited. Andrew gave Colton Ally's number, and Colton texted a more <u>personal</u> hello and congratulations. Therein was a proactive text back/forth. NO B.S. Meeting in person. Conversations over texts. Colton was the <u>same</u> way. Colton let Aly know he was staying at his dad's in Denver while he was having/recouperating from shoulder surgery. A dinner date proceeded 2 days later. <u>Low</u>-<u>key</u> at <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Guard & Grace</i> in Denver and talked for <u style="font-weight: bold;">hours</u>. She was open, funny, bright, honest & inquisitive. It was very late when Colton dropped Aly back at her hotel. When Colton said he had a great time; he <u style="font-weight: bold;">MEANT</u> it. Later that night, Aly texted Colton a <u>Thank You</u>! For a first date, it <u>couldn't</u> <u>have</u> gotten better. Colton had no idea whether there was a second date or whether he would speak to her again. She was off on the <u style="font-style: italic;">Kellogg's Tour Of Gymnastic Champions</u>. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">kept</u> in contact with one another every night for 2 weeks. It was like being together without <u>being</u> <u>together</u>. At the end of summer, Colton & Aly had their second in-person date in Dallas.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcCahSDCDl21Iq6RJw-Qs5EXhl3RsmEC9XnitkeNu6M5Vj6GfawJx8ozrVVf5-vVHfK62gIayRwNcX79hR_99uqQO7Pdop7_BT2kC81DpwrUKbWMyVStXo7LaoN6QUT4rSczkjANunmFXpS1mmUZgg8ryAMvpQ5LDsT2s2Tt5vzX82VytRvt4QH8_V2A=s749" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="595" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcCahSDCDl21Iq6RJw-Qs5EXhl3RsmEC9XnitkeNu6M5Vj6GfawJx8ozrVVf5-vVHfK62gIayRwNcX79hR_99uqQO7Pdop7_BT2kC81DpwrUKbWMyVStXo7LaoN6QUT4rSczkjANunmFXpS1mmUZgg8ryAMvpQ5LDsT2s2Tt5vzX82VytRvt4QH8_V2A=s320" width="254" /></a></div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">They had talked ahead of time about whether Colton was going to stay and they decided they'd share a room. Although he was non-verbal, Colton was </span></span><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">terrified</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">. They may have exchanged </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">personal</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> details with each other over </span></span><u style="font-style: italic;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">FaceTime</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">, this was </span></span><u><b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">different</span></span></b></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">. Colton wasn't with the flow and it was the </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">right</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> choice. Dinner with discussion, talking and making out before falling asleep together, although Colton was </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">too</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">nervous</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to sleep soundly. The night was </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">purely</span></u><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">innocent</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">. The next time they got together, Aly picked Colton up at the airport. Even in sweats, Colton </span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">loved</span></u></span><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u> <u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> her beauty. After a few minutes of small talk, Aly </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">asked</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> of Colton's virginity status. A question that came out of nowhere. Colton </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">assumed</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> it was </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">important</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to her, </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">important</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> enough only one answer was </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">feasibly</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> possible, and </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">that</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> was </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">the</span></span></u> <u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">truth</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">. Colton's virginity truth took Aly by surprise. It was a bit of a relief to her in some concern she might have had about her expectations. The more time Colton spent with Aly, the more </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">attractive</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> he found her. She was </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">very</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> together. She was funny, sharp & cool. Colton and Aly were like 2 kids trying to play house. Their </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">BIGGEST</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> issue they had was </span></span><b><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">TRUST</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">!</span></span></b><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> In </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">all</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">aspects</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> around. They </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">connected</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> and had so may commonailites. They </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">both</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> still lived at home. They cried together watching </span><u style="font-style: italic;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">This Is Us</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> and approved each other's take in music. Leaving each other funny messages. Colton also fell in </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">like</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> with Aly's best friend and Olympian teammate, Simone Biles. Simone was like Aly's little sister. In the middle of October, Colton flew to Chicago to see Aly and Colton </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">found</span></u><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">himself</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> saying the </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">L</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">-word for the </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">first</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> time. They were </span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">only</span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> together for a month and it just </span></span><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u style="font-style: italic;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u> <u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">felt</span></span></u> <u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">right</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> and </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">natural</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">. They were in their own bubble.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIOzXIDr51tbc7fikH0GJwGNOSLH7kB-L4n1Ar7MVN7uoEl99u6Y2P46JTF7hZlHvmkHSb0Xr3iZqqx-pLjWCE28VMCYp6nW-gKk4smJxsQdfzAO5XP-YBSgteC33ylPaDbgVJ2Z0JdIwxc19A6tSx_dM-js7tedOgDtUIAzG81pLktNA81K6CsQVVSg=s600" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIOzXIDr51tbc7fikH0GJwGNOSLH7kB-L4n1Ar7MVN7uoEl99u6Y2P46JTF7hZlHvmkHSb0Xr3iZqqx-pLjWCE28VMCYp6nW-gKk4smJxsQdfzAO5XP-YBSgteC33ylPaDbgVJ2Z0JdIwxc19A6tSx_dM-js7tedOgDtUIAzG81pLktNA81K6CsQVVSg=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love Hurts - Cher</td></tr></tbody></table>As a </span></span><u style="font-style: italic;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">Ne-Yo</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> song came on, Aly leaned against Colton and expressed her love for the artist. Colton heard her say something else and he allowed those words and sweet sound of her voice as she sent them traveling </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">straight</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> to Colton's heart. Only a moment or 2 passed before Colton squeezed Aly's hand and </span></span><u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">made</span></span></u> <u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">sure</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> she </span></span><u style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;">knew</span></span></u><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> how he <u>felt</u> professing the same. Aly looked up at Colton with an expression of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u>. It wasn't what Colton expected, nor did he expect to hear. Colton thought <u style="font-style: italic;">Oh Shit</u>; <u style="font-weight: bold;">massive</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">miscommunication</u>; and they drove in <u>silence</u> to the hotel. It was <b><u>definitely</u> </b><u>awkward</u>. There are <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u> things in life than telling someone you love them. One of them is that feelings are <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> reciprocated the same. <u style="font-style: italic;">Love Hurts</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> the tears in Aly's eyes. She was confused, angry & upset. Placing blame among herself. It's not that Colton <u>didn't</u> care; he <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. He wasn't bothered. Their relationship was <u>still</u> new. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> give Aly <u>space</u>. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">well</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">intended</u> but, <u style="font-weight: bold;">inexperienced</u> whom fell in love <u>first</u>. Maybe <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fast</u> and without a filter. <u>Hoping</u> he didn't scare her off, Colton & Aly were in for the the night...much longer than they hoped.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYQjXKorGdm7Z4Xib5zRJRd8cGiPEGmZwTpgaf76xB-MT9gvoEfooDaoMyz3BFwHqapGBpjrIlXzBKudSNVRKSL-c5_60n9SPiA3kVMt37V53UP1yZ0MtFue-g2zlOmFS87fg7nKfJVwnBgqgZuJfqtryA2SSA5To58cFY8LpBSgCsSX31shRuH1VEHg=s300" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="300" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYQjXKorGdm7Z4Xib5zRJRd8cGiPEGmZwTpgaf76xB-MT9gvoEfooDaoMyz3BFwHqapGBpjrIlXzBKudSNVRKSL-c5_60n9SPiA3kVMt37V53UP1yZ0MtFue-g2zlOmFS87fg7nKfJVwnBgqgZuJfqtryA2SSA5To58cFY8LpBSgCsSX31shRuH1VEHg" width="300" /></a></div>In early November, Colton </span><u style="text-align: left;">finally</u><span style="text-align: left;"> had knee surgery; which was </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">more</u><span style="text-align: left;"> extensive than originated. The doctor found torn ligaments, disintegrated bones, and </span><u style="text-align: left;">bone</u><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><u style="text-align: left;">chips</u><span style="text-align: left;"> that slipped into his pecs. An even <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIGGER</u> issue was the cost of recovery. Since Colton was no longer covered by the <u style="font-style: italic;">NFL</u>'s insurance, Colton went on Scott's insurance bill, but still had to pay the deductible and co-pay of all the procedures, mounting to $15,000/daily at the surgery center. Colton, like <u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> others <u>couldn't</u> afford that, so he opted for the alternative...Recovery at his dad's. They turned the sofa in Scott's living room into a hospital bed. Colton sent Aly a selfie of him lying semiconscious; bandages like he had been transported out of <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u>. <u>Without</u> drugs, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> it. Aly sent a giant care package of candy, magazines and tapes of Colton's favorites. Colton showed her his PICC line from a catheter in his shoulder to a fanny pack on his waist; pumping meds into his shoulder every 30 minutes. Sexy, right? Donna stopped by to check on her son's bandages and to make sure his arm was <u>properly</u> immobilized; which had to be for a month. 2 Weeks Later, post-op, Colton flew to Boston to be with Aly for the conclusion of her gymnastics tour. It was her hometown and they went forward for their 2 families to meet. Colton met Aly's mother first. The optics weren't great. Colton explained chivalry was just temporarily sidelined.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiH0qGMBagVWaJl6nq7Voa2eOdWjIBQOOoBhnW6lpx5iWu9T0SFaTTar4essLMWFCrk-PyfYjs-Vi6KA5Ka2ZPzhXE1ZG24x6i0QfDWVK0RCcQzYFpLaGikW_uGXqvyEgtMoIHe26RoGUUVSvyHAM6GaaSR3226gQcTZBFPWygoScX0Lt634d9ZtxASyA=s1200" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiH0qGMBagVWaJl6nq7Voa2eOdWjIBQOOoBhnW6lpx5iWu9T0SFaTTar4essLMWFCrk-PyfYjs-Vi6KA5Ka2ZPzhXE1ZG24x6i0QfDWVK0RCcQzYFpLaGikW_uGXqvyEgtMoIHe26RoGUUVSvyHAM6GaaSR3226gQcTZBFPWygoScX0Lt634d9ZtxASyA=s320" width="320" /></a></div>After a brunch hosted by Aly's parents, Colton <u>presumed</u> they were Boston liberals, he <u>knew</u> Scott was a Midwestern Conservative. . .fireworks abound. Colton asked his dad to <u>avoid</u> talking about politics <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">what</u>. Within the first 10 minutes, Scott & Aly's dad, Rick, had slipped off by themselves anf then Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEARD</u> the words from another room. . .Trump or Hillary. Colton zoned out of the conversation he was having with Aly & her mom and eavesdropping on their dads, waiting for a bomb to drop which never did. Everyone was on their <u>best</u> behavior. The meeting was a success. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In mid-December, Colton & Aly went <u>public</u> with their relationship after 4 months. They were tired of hiding it. After a night out at an event, they were <i>buzzing</i> internet news. Aly had spent the <u>holidays</u> in Denver with Colton. Colton <u>embraced</u> their different religious beliefs as an opportunity to learn & grow. When Aly <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> Colton's dedication to the outcome and work from the Foundation, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> how <u><b>lucky</b></u> they were when taking a step back. Colton <u>was</u> perfectly happy in this relationship. It was satisfying and serious. But, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">harboring</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">secret</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">One</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> being that Colton was <u>flat</u> <u>broke</u> from the costs of his shoulder surgery costing him $40,000 - a <u style="font-weight: bold;">majority</u> of his savings. The rest went for out-of-pocket to see Aly. Colton went so far as to <u>sell</u> <u>his</u> <u>car</u>. He loved her <u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">could</u>. Colton could tell her <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> - among a <u>few</u> secrets - one being that he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> money. She would've helped Colton and come up with a savings plan. She was there for him in a way that made him <u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> to be there for her 10x over. Aly challenged him to be a better person.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colton tried to be there for Aly after she <u style="font-weight: bold;">detailed</u> the entanglement in the news with being victimized by Larry Nassar. Colton felt helpless. He wanted to do something; but didn't know that. Colton assured her safety. Within time, Aly ended their relationship during a <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTime</u> as Colton was driving his <u style="font-style: italic;">Jeep</u>. Colton pulled over to the side of the road, stunned and unable to comprehend what was happening. Aly had felt overwhelmed, confused, and in need of a break. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">broke</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u> <u>emotionally</u> in his car. He was <u>numb</u> for days. He reached out to Aly <u>several</u> times with <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> responses. After no responses, answers or information, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> <u>where</u> to turn. He would go for long runs, replaying conversations in his head, wondering the <i><u>What-If'</u>s</i>. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">ultimate</u> reasons for the demise of Colton & Aly's relationship <u>at</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u>, were only shared between the 2 of them. She may not have been right after him - <u>understandably</u> so. Aly had more in her life to struggle with without Colton alongside her. All Colton could do, as much as the split <u style="font-weight: bold;">HURT</u>, was show and be <b><u>SUPPORTIVE</u>!</b> Losing in love was <u style="font-weight: bold;">painful</u>, but Colton was a better and wiser man for having opened his heart to her as time would <u style="font-weight: bold;">heal</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> wounds and <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> comes to light.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At the age of 25, Colton had lost his dog, Bullet, football and his girlfriend. Those were the <u>TOP</u> 3. He <u>thought</u> he should've had his life figured out. Colton had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CLUE</u> what he wanted to do next. Colton had no career lined up and was left <u>gutted</u> from a heartbreak. He <u>likes</u> and <u>needs</u> a routine and schedule. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">thrive</u> or <u style="font-weight: bold;">sense</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">purpose</u>. But, he had none of the above. Without the Foundation, where in Colon had advanced a next level chapter called <u style="font-style: italic;">The Legacy Project</u>, a way to give money portable breathing machines to a CF patient in <u>each</u> of the 50 states; Colton would've been lost and utterly lost & depressed. As it was with his life's trajectory, Colton was feeling the "<i>woe-is-me</i>" in Scott's basement. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> to be this way; or one who's glory days were <u>too</u> <u>soon</u>, so he <u style="font-weight: bold;">vowed</u> to find a way out of his rut. He began by signing up for online classes he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to get his degree. But, the acknowledgement felt hallow. He missed having someone say they were proud of him. For <u style="font-style: italic;">blazing</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">though</u> the couses and cheering him on as he plotted his next move. <u>Again</u>, this is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">difficult</u> time for Colton. <i style="font-weight: bold;">When life gets in the way</i><b>; </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">it's </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> to </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUS</u> <i style="font-weight: bold;">on yourself and </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">YOURSELF</u> <b><i>and </i><u>BE</u> <u>HONEST</u>!</b> Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he had the <u style="font-weight: bold;">power</u> to change that, with <u style="font-weight: bold;">growing</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">frustrations</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">daily</u>; Colton threw caution to the wind and stated he was <u>going</u> <u>to</u> <u>date</u>. Since he couldn't get his professional life <u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">track</u>; Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to <u>change</u> <u>the</u> <u>trajectory</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">who</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">was</u>. A <u>fucking</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u><b> </b><b><u>minute</u> </b><u style="font-style: italic;">Hail Mary</u> from Colton's faith. Thinking this <u style="font-weight: bold;">could</u> be what <u>sets</u> him <u style="font-weight: bold;">straight</u>, so to speak. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwPJhU_HnM8GHsutHn5fmvxvPUJmyU5bnr3ioy8l_ccH8ygQTdc2nJ_Y18CKAOFpkohCxt15TbfzY2Zu8s86o4YSyFesZx5XY98KwYdcHrsMTHpECe1gnmtFgrlCxydZguk0QFkTqINehT745Dqn-XXP4TsRp6AksxQX4pGgFqdNNUJoairVXMjcf4BA=s669" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="669" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwPJhU_HnM8GHsutHn5fmvxvPUJmyU5bnr3ioy8l_ccH8ygQTdc2nJ_Y18CKAOFpkohCxt15TbfzY2Zu8s86o4YSyFesZx5XY98KwYdcHrsMTHpECe1gnmtFgrlCxydZguk0QFkTqINehT745Dqn-XXP4TsRp6AksxQX4pGgFqdNNUJoairVXMjcf4BA=s320" width="320" /></a></div>It was a declaration to get busy. Instead of the usual route with apps or outings with friends, Colton pissed out every opportunity. He <u>had</u> <u>to</u> create a social life, but instead hermitted himself the same he did in high school and college. Watching life pass him by on <u style="font-style: italic;">Netfilx</u> and social media. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Making</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">excuses</u> for why he didn't have his shit together. <i style="font-weight: bold;">You will lie because you're </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> sometimes </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shitless</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> of the </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">BETTER</u> and got mad at himself. One afternoon, we went for a walk along the <u style="font-style: italic;">16TH St. Mall</u>. He began walking from one side of the promenade to the other. Colton seen a crowd alongside the <u style="font-style: italic;">Hard Rock Cafe</u> and stopped to investigate. The crowd was a long line of good-looking ladies. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> God was All-Powerful and All-Knowing. If this was God's Hail-Mary that Colton was looking for. . . .Colton was <u>gracious</u> <u>enough</u> to expect. . .but also <b><u>VERY</u> <u>DESPERATE</u>!</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBAveNagZuSm_dQY6NWi3i3PjEbJcpFjrlZWhC7ztmIOSTDM5vKaNTR6kRQoDGWRc3bvCxabK3zhebwRrqI2y14L9VVWbSkQ2T3XnSGSvJskHA0kgDzGbzRa1qyLfwlswjrz8PmpTuPc5SGB0ue_OgrBZjnh7ygUrxirAxK2Gc3Utrrl4miQd9_D7Y6Q=s275" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBAveNagZuSm_dQY6NWi3i3PjEbJcpFjrlZWhC7ztmIOSTDM5vKaNTR6kRQoDGWRc3bvCxabK3zhebwRrqI2y14L9VVWbSkQ2T3XnSGSvJskHA0kgDzGbzRa1qyLfwlswjrz8PmpTuPc5SGB0ue_OgrBZjnh7ygUrxirAxK2Gc3Utrrl4miQd9_D7Y6Q" width="275" /></a></div>As Colton edged his way up the line with several ladies,<br /> smiling as he looked for information. . . there it was. <u>BINGO</u>! A sign next to the door leading inside the <u style="font-style: italic;">Hard Rock</u>: <u>OPEN</u> <u>CASTING</u> <u>CALL</u>: <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. This was Colton's Ah-Ha! Moment. Colton had recalled watching an episode of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u> that advertised an upcoming casting call in Denver. <u style="font-weight: bold;">This</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">was</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u>. The show was casting for Arie Luyendyk Jr.'s season. This explains why <u>only</u> women were in line. As Colton was making his exit, a guy from the show's casting department stepped outside and looked <u>directly</u> at him. Asking Colton of his whereabouts. Moments later, Colton was inside and following him upstairs. He was then ushered past the line and the first round of screening, and then <u>asking</u> <u>him</u> <u>questions</u> in front of a camera. Colton in which played along. Being "<i><u>somewhat</u></i>" <u style="font-weight: bold;">honest</u> of his background. <u>Vaguely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">honest</u>. He was in a funk. He was broken up with. He was in a position to put himself out there. After walking by and seeing the interview line, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">mentally</u> seen a sign of his future. This line. This show. This opportunity. Colton seen it <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">all</b> as his <u style="font-weight: bold;">final</u> steps to a saving grace. He wanted to be honest but not volunteering <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> of himself. Leaving his bullshit at the door. When he's in love, Colton is <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> and looking for it to be reciprocated. He seen this as a <span style="color: #f1c232; font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">golden</span><span><i> </i>opportunity for him. It would <u style="font-weight: bold;">force</u> him to <u>date</u>. Colton couldn't be able to chickenshit his way out. He <u>noticed</u> himself over-talking and blabbering and he insightfully <u>shut</u> <u>up</u>. Colton was then given paperwork to fill out and assigned to return with a self-video he had to create. Answering the questions on-par the video. After it was reviewed, toss-up as to whether Colton would <u style="font-weight: bold;">actually</u> make it on the show. So, he did as directed when he got downstairs <u>right</u> <u>away</u>. As he sat down, a young woman began <u>actively</u> flirting with him. Colton had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> what he was in for. Was he <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> for this next step? Only one way to find out. . .</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>After the traditional questionnaire of his past relationships and criminal record, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">carefully</u> answered the questions that saved face. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">honest</u> in the description of himself in 3 words: Creative, compassionate & charming. <u>Then</u>, came the quencher question: Why? Why find a <u style="font-style: italic;">wife</u> on reality TV? Colton was being <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONESTLY</u> vague. . .He needed <span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;"><u>HELP</u>!</span><span> The next day, Colton made the video, threw it in the mailbox and <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> forgot about it.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1MHvDdGXNrs65QjbapjZpo_vlbkmUz2FTkD09SzclbWB-Rc9M9AbigDSzozQfeu6KedMFMT0wU_UYg3lrTEoghlOWoc4Edc0QAhKLSrk_Fw0BXkxqxe2I0spGbG8V_iYIAFVhlWJcuoiahdJgJgbcTcv4KE0DYVVGX40pyVA3IKHgI-C8kWwrI2kmUg=s300" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1MHvDdGXNrs65QjbapjZpo_vlbkmUz2FTkD09SzclbWB-Rc9M9AbigDSzozQfeu6KedMFMT0wU_UYg3lrTEoghlOWoc4Edc0QAhKLSrk_Fw0BXkxqxe2I0spGbG8V_iYIAFVhlWJcuoiahdJgJgbcTcv4KE0DYVVGX40pyVA3IKHgI-C8kWwrI2kmUg" width="300" /></a></div>For the next 4 months, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelmed</u> and consumed by medical reports, legal papers, and negotiations leading to a settlement of his grievance against the <u style="font-style: italic;">Raider's</u>. The process was like arguing on the playground in 3RD grade where each side called one another out to be a liar, except they were adults and Colton had a massive pile of X-Rays and <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ASS</u> scars as evidence. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><span><u style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">hell</u>, and <b><u>every</u></b> <u><b>day</b></u> Colton prayed for relief. Then, out of the blue, Colton's prayers were answered in the form of a letter, informing him that Colton made it through the next round of casting for <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">forgot</u> the video and questionnaire that he sent in. But, all of a sudden, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> came flooding back to him. He dropped a couple of "<i>What-The-Fuck</i>?" bombs and re-read the letter before it <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> registered with him.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Casting invited Colton to continue the casting process on 1-of-3 upcoming details in Los Angeles. Scott and the rest of the family offered a much better reaction, and encouragements. Colton then explained that they would get to know him better, <i style="font-weight: bold;">as much as he could divulge as <u>honest</u> as he <u>could</u> be</i>, being <u style="font-weight: bold;">fiercely</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u>, as they looked to cast season 14.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Colton arrived at the show's Burbank office at the end of October. He went into a conference room and met 6 people from production and casting. They asked questions in retribution to Colton's questionnaire. Colton added that he combined this trip to L.A. with some post-career training provided by the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. Colton <u>stated</u> he was figuring out what was next. He also added that he was trying to lose some weight explaining that the gaining came on <u>quickly</u> and wasn't working out <u>intensely</u> as he should/liked since his shoulder was tender and life getting in the way. Production seemed thoroughly amused with Colton's weight struggle. It was unexpected. Before he left, Colton was suggested to look at the viewing pictures online the following day of all of the ladies of the upcoming season. Look at the photos, read their bios and let them know which girls were Colton's "<i>type</i>".</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwFUnT-MAbMTBE7W3Sl-TJaeUPsE7mtcPmqJsrspfL5eXW8aiUWUmz2c0btBwZJj1bbEQvhoVKgOttsSfNn-C32M-14AGqOeaD7_6NomLyYK5aOLsKbRvTGRCo21K1nBOsqte0c1iIw2JRdJ17fwaQveR81-_lDX2KCid9-XuN8dkUF1n07wFe_QpiNw=s480" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwFUnT-MAbMTBE7W3Sl-TJaeUPsE7mtcPmqJsrspfL5eXW8aiUWUmz2c0btBwZJj1bbEQvhoVKgOttsSfNn-C32M-14AGqOeaD7_6NomLyYK5aOLsKbRvTGRCo21K1nBOsqte0c1iIw2JRdJ17fwaQveR81-_lDX2KCid9-XuN8dkUF1n07wFe_QpiNw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tricia & Ryan Sutter</td></tr></tbody></table>Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">UNDERSTOOD</u> production assessment. It was like a <u>test</u>. A test whether his "<i><u>straight</u></i>" taste aligned with <u style="font-weight: bold;">theirs</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">In</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">moment</u>, Colton realized the inherent <u>tension</u> that made the show work: people looking for love, those behind the camera and those looking to make <u>great</u> television. Football had honed Colton's instincts to look for the <u>strategy</u>. Everyone had an <u>agenda</u>. - <u style="font-weight: bold;">Especially</u> Colton whom was <u style="font-weight: bold;">privately</u> battling his own <u style="font-style: italic;">Hail Mary</u>. On the return flight to Denver, Colton did his homework of the show and was obsessed with getting on <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">The Bachelorette</i>. Thinking about it. O.C.D. like. Colton wasn't like this prior. His attitude was more <i>playing it by ear</i>. He walked in with a challenge and returned a contender. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> them to pick him. While <u>some</u> of the show's reasons had a <u>purpose</u>, Colton <u>one</u> <u>as</u> <u>well</u>. While it might seem <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">crazy</u> to find love on a reality TV show...was it <u>possible</u>? <u>Absolutely</u>. What Colton knew from his recent meetings, the show <u>boasted</u> of its share of successes. To Colton, the shows were similar to dating apps - just more <u>public</u>. From the catagorical elements that the show had and came with, it was downright <u>nuts</u> to think the psychology of the show <u style="font-weight: bold;">might</u> work on Colton. Not that the show would "<i><u>make</u></i>" him <u>straight</u>. . .Colton, <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">loss</u>, <u>thought</u> it might. Up to this point, Colton's <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> life was strange: He played in the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L.</u> He dated an Olympic gold medalist. He had walked the <span style="color: red;">red carpet</span> at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Golden Globes</u>. He had been in <u style="font-style: italic;">People</u> magazine. Colton was a 25-yr-old virgin. So....why not do <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>? </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Colton started out the window if the plane with his head <u style="font-weight: bold;">literally</u> in the clouds. Thoughts were racing through his head. Thinking of the outcome he hoped would <u>change</u> <u>his</u> <u>life</u>. When the plane hit turbulence, it was a reminder to <u>slow</u> <u>down</u> and pace himself. First things first. . .Colton had to get on the show. Getting his ducks in a row, Colton had work to do. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP5GLneoLVYJ6nV5ZiTTDpqi6222StdkbB8alvWZ7g1jgDNSN2tCkbkFuTUq5e7C5dkJFS4FRu7b_NI0DSL9yDJbx5wiChdxEFL_ZX70J-5MBjwnMN6R-TBukNqc8P09kTHIiSD3dZFBCYAU-iC_41Ma0KOMOKUWK2C9tJ-U4pNDXNL8Jle3oKIGfRlg=s225" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP5GLneoLVYJ6nV5ZiTTDpqi6222StdkbB8alvWZ7g1jgDNSN2tCkbkFuTUq5e7C5dkJFS4FRu7b_NI0DSL9yDJbx5wiChdxEFL_ZX70J-5MBjwnMN6R-TBukNqc8P09kTHIiSD3dZFBCYAU-iC_41Ma0KOMOKUWK2C9tJ-U4pNDXNL8Jle3oKIGfRlg=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div>Once Colton got home, he fired up his laptop, got on the internet, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">immersed</u> himself in <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelorette</u> culture. Watching past seasons, recaps, and giving social commentary = Colton was doing his homework. He visited <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor Nation</u> and liked what he saw. Colton found the <u>same</u> level of fanaticism, insider knowledge, and passion as the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. Like football fans, <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor Nation</u> fans are <b><u>FANS</u>!</b> Colton went and found what the producers had instructed and <b><u>STUDIED</u> <u>CAREFULLY</u>!</b> Colton was mindful of <u>first</u> impressions, noted his favorites and <u style="font-weight: bold;">kept</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">mind</u> those that <u style="font-weight: bold;">kept</u> his attention. Then, Colton looked for something extra. Something that made them <u>stand</u> <u>out</u>. Producers asked Colton to send them his TOP 3 choices as part of the screening process. From research on the Internet, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> the current season had begun to shoot. He had seen spoilers and speculations online while Colton mentally took notes. Watching Arie's season and social media, Colton picked his favorites, sent them to production and followed them on <u style="font-style: italic;">Instagram</u>.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvQ-wYLqnikF3qtt-1MwXFwFICfHugtM5EHvu2QNz77-FU4cNeQ7ybn_9n0VttOPJwUXNwqbz5NkMmUDoOr5ln6f8tr0XM5NL2FtYY_eEtkghAv36wtZPMVJcOgcBoQAvKdY6zMxPBOFZckBBTK5NEVXEvO3rVDF2URFKsvvLbyqWbcE8wbnGQku4xLA=s882" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="882" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvQ-wYLqnikF3qtt-1MwXFwFICfHugtM5EHvu2QNz77-FU4cNeQ7ybn_9n0VttOPJwUXNwqbz5NkMmUDoOr5ln6f8tr0XM5NL2FtYY_eEtkghAv36wtZPMVJcOgcBoQAvKdY6zMxPBOFZckBBTK5NEVXEvO3rVDF2URFKsvvLbyqWbcE8wbnGQku4xLA=s320" width="320" /></a></div>In December 2017, Colton was lying in bed, watching <u style="font-style: italic;">Stranger Things</u>. He took a video giving commentary on the show when he got a reply, which Colton replied <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> with banter on <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTime</u> back/forth. Colton was <u>honest</u> with his considering for <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>, which is how he came to find & follow them on social media. Since they lived in different parts of the country, the chances of a get-together ou wit tside the show were practically zero. Keeping in contact with one another through <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTime</u>. Conversations flying all over the place. In mid-January, the good news <u>arrived</u>. Colton received an e-mail informing him he had made it to the <u>final</u> round of casting of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. The not began and ended with <u>CONGRATULATIONS</u>! Setting life in motion for an interview a few days prior to his birthday. Colton also received his settlement check from the <u style="font-style: italic;">Oakland Raiders</u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">When one door opens</i><b>; </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">another one opens</i>. Since Colton was no longer broke, he decided to splurge for his birthday on renting an <u style="font-style: italic;">AirBnb</u> in L.A. for a long weekend following his interview. Scott worried for Colton to be <u>CAREFUL</u> after <u>hearing</u> of son's reality show plans. How did Colton's dad know? <i>The power of social media</i>. Scott was <b><u>RIGHT</u>!</b> Was Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">scheming</u>? <u>Yes</u>! He wanted a head start among the other lads. Taking in this <u>focal</u> <u>point</u> the same as football prep. <i>What was the harm in this/that</i>?</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifiN-uGFHRC7SJVTrsKoGr6k5kcs0aAHaZEQ9BftKOAhBcbArApzpJ18V8xjR15QJmfNralj6ChR1uR3qOmd1VWtgt33ZXbwAvzfpl7fYENjEWC-nBL7wWFdSXGLy-kDlUIRAJiyS6etKQSJWvLYsSwAvOA6cy3fvKcAPVlUsZEC-0CbVJVmwy1cEaBg=s480" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifiN-uGFHRC7SJVTrsKoGr6k5kcs0aAHaZEQ9BftKOAhBcbArApzpJ18V8xjR15QJmfNralj6ChR1uR3qOmd1VWtgt33ZXbwAvzfpl7fYENjEWC-nBL7wWFdSXGLy-kDlUIRAJiyS6etKQSJWvLYsSwAvOA6cy3fvKcAPVlUsZEC-0CbVJVmwy1cEaBg=w320-h180" width="320" /></a></div>Once in L.A., Colton checked into a hotel near the airport. Using the hotel gym for a workout to avenge nervousness. After a long rejuvenating shower, Colton <u>prepped</u> himself for an on-camera interview. He entered the room where he would be interviewed on-camera and met with whom would be his producer that was assigned to him from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u> franchise. Colton liked her right away. As he had questions flown at him from her, not once did his producer ask him about the relationship with Aly. Colton was <u>sure</u> they <u>already</u> knew or at least wondered about it. A <u style="font-style: italic;">Google</u> search would've shown pictures. Background checks would've shown they followed each other. They <u><i>sure</i></u> <i><u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> a <u>hell</u> <u>of</u> a </i><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">LOT</b> about him after these questions.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_wZiOuAuEbFYbDCd46VuuNMVFegzASHVjyk9wB6yg_L1t8c51SwHgm4vNeWIhSj_d4qP3VuPHi1-CmalJ3CGesYZs1UQ8ikl9Y7yxJik7fitdJsDT7oGJLQbwHSl0ZObSL4emGosHJm6tP2_Ng2GkxsWnqpcqQWwfDUBiUZiBrEnNWbVJY-Ai8IqDsg=s1920" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_wZiOuAuEbFYbDCd46VuuNMVFegzASHVjyk9wB6yg_L1t8c51SwHgm4vNeWIhSj_d4qP3VuPHi1-CmalJ3CGesYZs1UQ8ikl9Y7yxJik7fitdJsDT7oGJLQbwHSl0ZObSL4emGosHJm6tP2_Ng2GkxsWnqpcqQWwfDUBiUZiBrEnNWbVJY-Ai8IqDsg=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">scar being across right shoulder/chest</td></tr></tbody></table>Afterward, Colton was escorted into another conference room to meet, some of her friends/associates, and walked in a room of show running productions. They had been <u>watching</u> Colton's interview on a large TV screen behind him. <u>More</u> <u>questions</u>? Colton was <u>sure</u> they would've asked about <u>ladies</u> of his past. But, they were only <u style="font-weight: bold;">focused</u> on football - highs & low lights. When they asked why he stopped playing, Colton pulled his shirt back and <u>showed</u> them the scar on his shoulder. Some people winced at how he described motion action from movement to pain. They asked if Colton had special talents. That made him laugh. He didn't. They asked him to describe a fantasy date, where he would like to travel, and what a hometown date would be. The only curveball thrown was the question of his number? The number of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ladies</u> Colton had slept with? The producer was <u>intrigued</u> by Colton's lack of dating history because he got <u>straight</u> to the point in a way no one else had.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Colton remembered being asked about his number when he was with the <u style="font-style: italic;">Chargers</u>. He was <i><u>mildly</u></i> telling the truth with one hand. Another producer in the room asked how Colton felt about kissing and making out with cameras pointed at him and a production crew watching, <u>along</u> with <u style="font-weight: bold;">millions</u> of people tuning in with social media. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Alot</u> of the questions posed to him weren't thought about until asked. <b><i>How much was Colton willing to </i><u style="font-style: italic;">reveal</u>?<i> How far will they go</i>?</b> Colton longingly looked at the ceiling tiles looking for the answers. They <u>obviously</u> weren't. This <u>whole</u> adventure would continue to address making Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">uncomfortable</u>. Colton was "<i>ready</i>" to put them behind them - in front of the country. Talk about pressure! Colton gave answers to <b><i>what he was <u>comfortable</u> with</i></b>. He was chill and willing to do <u>some</u> <u>things</u> on camera. Was Colton ready to open his heart and risk heartache <u>LIVE</u>! on-air? Before they could continue on, Colton asked what he thought was an option for the next <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelorette</u>? <u>That</u> he was ready for after reading spoilers. Becca, Tia & Lauren. Production <b><u>COMPLETELY</u> <u>AGREED</u>!</b> Then, Colton was finished. As they finished, Colton enjoyed L.A. for his 26TH birthday the next day with his mom.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJlkLd1zdr9rFY7WCk3e4n2EyHtFl2lPUt3XcZoETh5phroi0Njp351J65-phF7uW9Ucw8dCmC32vDardmc_1wFL3tXodki2514oF_6DPTH_U-_aaWPtMLRqRQWOAAXwlrSHvnSRW0RImlUs0SdeIo5LD0jRlJYnHpFslUYZZVb31r4dDFT9PWxyVC6w=s1024" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="634" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJlkLd1zdr9rFY7WCk3e4n2EyHtFl2lPUt3XcZoETh5phroi0Njp351J65-phF7uW9Ucw8dCmC32vDardmc_1wFL3tXodki2514oF_6DPTH_U-_aaWPtMLRqRQWOAAXwlrSHvnSRW0RImlUs0SdeIo5LD0jRlJYnHpFslUYZZVb31r4dDFT9PWxyVC6w=s320" width="198" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Tia</td></tr></tbody></table>From there, Colton went to his <u style="font-style: italic;">AirBnB</u> in Hollywood. Tia arrived later that night. After a birthday dinner, Tia was ready for a good time, and so was Colton. The only <u style="font-style: italic;">awkwardness</u> in this long sleepover weekend came when Colton & Tia were in bed together that first night. They were making out for awhile. Tia was <u style="font-weight: bold;">READY</u> to go to the next few levels. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">IMMEDIATELY</u> turned off after he revealed his virginity status. She gave him a kiss, got up, and showered and then went to sleep. By the time they said goodbye, their long weekend was <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> as Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">intended</u>. Tia was <u>convinced</u> Colton would get on the show. They kissed goodbye and awaited to see what happened. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Colton was eager to get some insider gossip when he <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTime</u>'d with Tia vacationing in Fort Lauderdale with Becca and another <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u> participant. In the midst of fun over the phone, it was <u>sensed</u> that they wanted Colton to be the next <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u>. They wanted him to . . . They wanted Colton to have the same experience. If it was offered, they wanted him to take it. As Colton waited for an answer, he <u>began</u> to have <u>doubts</u>/<u>concerns</u>. Typical of Colton. Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u> and <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">nervous</i> to blackout. <b><i><u>SCARED</u> </i><u>SHITLESS</u>!</b> It was no different when he was back in high school & college social settings. But, without risk . . .there is no reward. Was he crazy? Colton never signed up for a dating app <u style="font-weight: bold;">before</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">within</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time-frame</u>. It was a recipe for disaster, failure, foolishness. Why bother? After Aly, when Colton had spent a time of his life with, why not with someone else? The debate of whether to do this on <u>LIVE</u>! T.V. raged in his head. In the meantime, was that Colton was no longer broke. He had moved out of his dad's and relocated to an apartment outside of Denver <u>properly</u>. Then on a Saturday morning, Colton <u>heard</u> the ping of his e-mail . . .and within that second. . .Colton's life <u>changed</u>. <b><u style="font-style: italic;">FOR</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">THE</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">FIRST</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">TIME</u>!</b></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHzHwpOClwNATwc5cxEZ4U5nNJhBJUfyWkJiQ9C2TE5HqzpmMhoO7KA_DdRbbRbNcnPVQ_5CTyHS9hhSkZIGdosRyHl8xq13rqOo_4YN5kfRewnvBJxtALc3mIZX_mZkTBsFRtU_M91WYfSAbVOGbRCbOAMauOj59quY4G_SG-Rln9n0P3qlI6-AC9og=s259" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHzHwpOClwNATwc5cxEZ4U5nNJhBJUfyWkJiQ9C2TE5HqzpmMhoO7KA_DdRbbRbNcnPVQ_5CTyHS9hhSkZIGdosRyHl8xq13rqOo_4YN5kfRewnvBJxtALc3mIZX_mZkTBsFRtU_M91WYfSAbVOGbRCbOAMauOj59quY4G_SG-Rln9n0P3qlI6-AC9og=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div>The next 2 weeks went into a <u style="font-weight: bold;">fast</u> track of blur and excitement and anticipation. There was ALOT to do with <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u> time to do it. Colton signed the show's contract and met with <u style="font-style: italic;">ABC</u>'s requirements. He packed his bags along with his <u>essentials</u>. What he packed had to last up to 3 months - <u>if</u> things went well. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Everything</u> had to fit into 2 suitcases, leaving enough room for an engagement ring. To that end, they were instructed to <u>delete</u> and disconnect themselves from dating apps, set their social media to private. Finally, with the checklist complete. . .let the fun & games begin. Colton partnered with a producer and a crew from L.A. on her introductory video; the brief profile of a <u>sense</u> of whom Colton was. They shot him in various locations around Denver: <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Children's Hospital,</i> tossing a football with his dad, relaxing in his condo. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">VERY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> to have gotten his own place. The shoot also included a sit-down interview; something Colton looked <u>forward</u> to. Only <u>one</u> question was <u style="font-weight: bold;">OFF</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LIMITS</u><b>!</b> Colton's relationship with Aly; due to the Larry Nassar lawsuit; and the reasons Colton wasn't able to discuss further. The show <u>respected</u> that <u>request</u>.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Production <i>could've</i> asked about <u>sensitive</u> issues: Tia & Colton's virginity. People <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> By March, Colton was <u>counting</u> <u>the</u> <u>days</u> until his flight until he left for L.A. Spending time with family & friends. With just a couple of days to go, Colton got a call from a woman in casting. He was getting his teeth cleaned when she called. What joy! She wanted to <u style="font-weight: bold;">make</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sure</u> Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">READY</u> with a <u>final</u> checklist. Colton was <b><u>SET</u> <u>TO</u> <u>GO</u>!</b> All Colton had to do was have fun and <u>be</u> <u>himself</u> . . .as "<i>authentically</i>" as he could be!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmnU0gIuX_ddbgovkIGBPEvYte6iq_0nit-9oMNJCn0yYuGnnQDL2XL-K0y5gFpKxS0a04OB7wTjrAdaZ7VDbSxKgKRPS7TsvxSpUj0qBXzoustt_REok2Irff-T1C8XjW7maxRSvEq_9e1wDY6ZyLAkfPktK3L_SB8h69JffNERxrmDJ9dxz82vfI4g=s792" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="634" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmnU0gIuX_ddbgovkIGBPEvYte6iq_0nit-9oMNJCn0yYuGnnQDL2XL-K0y5gFpKxS0a04OB7wTjrAdaZ7VDbSxKgKRPS7TsvxSpUj0qBXzoustt_REok2Irff-T1C8XjW7maxRSvEq_9e1wDY6ZyLAkfPktK3L_SB8h69JffNERxrmDJ9dxz82vfI4g=s320" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris & Colton</td></tr></tbody></table>With <u><b>all</b></u> of the things Colton could've <u>been</u> thinking about on the 2 1/2 hr flight to L.A. from Denver, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u> thinking about Tia and his virginity. Tia & his virginity were the "<i>only</i>" 2 "<i>secrets</i>" therein <u>at</u> <u>this</u> <u>time</u>. Colton seen Tia as <u>one</u> potential reason the show's producers might kick him off <u>before</u> they <u>began</u>. With Tia, Colton meddled in areas that, while <u>not</u> <u>explicitly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">forbidden</u>, seemed like they'd be disqualified of publicized. As for being a virgin, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it would counter the image projected as a 26-yr-old former pro-football player. <u>But</u>, Colton also seen it as a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> responsibility to <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>, which theretofore a reason may not get very busy for when the roses were handed out. . .<b style="font-style: italic;">nonetheless of what isn't disclosed </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">as</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">of</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">yet</u>. Colton mentally analyzed this <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> problem he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> he had. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">vowed</u> to <u>keep</u> his <u>secret</u> deal he made with religion prior to traveling. <u style="font-style: italic;">Good Luck</u>, Chris Harrison. Then, the phone rang and Colton placed his thoughts on the back burner.Just like football, <i style="font-weight: bold;">put the outside away and </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">focus</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> on the </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">mission</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">at</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">hand</u>.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1344otV5CA1j95azzv49EOkpSM7xbQRpoikI17KFoTBw1TMOFvCgLCwm4ydK5_yB3jsMmeKK0ExWgQrHhE3k4bfxZ_pW-YmtWtmVqyXtOwXome_y4hq53bv_7ftt2H5N0TNgNvX9Tcd2nNSQaIBT1ZdFO9-ZnjpCtOPdX-PDpd8sMxBkFRMbAU_-F1A=s1201" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1344otV5CA1j95azzv49EOkpSM7xbQRpoikI17KFoTBw1TMOFvCgLCwm4ydK5_yB3jsMmeKK0ExWgQrHhE3k4bfxZ_pW-YmtWtmVqyXtOwXome_y4hq53bv_7ftt2H5N0TNgNvX9Tcd2nNSQaIBT1ZdFO9-ZnjpCtOPdX-PDpd8sMxBkFRMbAU_-F1A=s320" width="288" /></a></div><br />Colton claimed his 2 bags and found his driver. An hour later, he was dropped at the hotel; <u style="font-style: italic;">Westlake Village</u>. There, a welcoming production coordinator met him in the lobby and offered him a large, empty envelope with Colton's name on it. Colton had to place <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> electronics in this envelope. He found his room and stayed there for 3 days with a producer keeping Colton company during the day, getting to know each other <u>on</u> <u>the</u> <u>surface</u>. Without interaction; Colton had withdrawals. <i>You don't know what you got 'til its gone</i>. Just <u style="font-weight: bold;">cold</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">turkey</u><b>!</b> The other guys had gone through the <u>same</u> thing. Colton scheduled gym time and worked out in privacy; <u>intentional</u> but <u>unfortunate</u>. Colton's room was on the <u>first</u> floor and from the balcony; Colton was right across from the pool and hot tub. On the 2ND day there, the <u>temptation</u> of the hot tub was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tempting</u> to resist. He was going <u style="font-style: italic;">stir</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">crazy</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">waited</u> until the wee <u>late</u> hours of the midnight hour before slipping into the hot tub. After dipping into the hot water, Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u> that others would <u style="font-style: italic;">hear</u> his <u style="font-weight: bold;">loud</u> relaxational pleasure. It was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">perfect</u> hot tub ever - until Colton was hit by a wave of <u><b>paranoia</b></u> <u>and</u> <b><i><u>panic</u></i></b>. Out of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of getting caught, Colton hauled his ass out of the water in a single motion and ran back inside - but <u>undetected</u>! All he had to do was wait <u>one</u> <u>more</u> <u>day</u>! <u>Finally</u>, the big day arrived. Colton and the others were going to meet Becca. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2r5kinz16XDaZ5U83_wuRy2vqPPojWG7FX0BRkO501yT9x-x-GeOyXrd3WGPJMcYSgONe0YXYjmaxM1Z99lEbxkOJobg-0-60ZxvZ7a8w5Dkafmuu521w-ygDTQiiPa_6P-hYMN-o-YI2Wy_plfD4WAbFIN3PxiH3yVtmrel14qCZkWD69nNPAtTFSQ=s1125" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2r5kinz16XDaZ5U83_wuRy2vqPPojWG7FX0BRkO501yT9x-x-GeOyXrd3WGPJMcYSgONe0YXYjmaxM1Z99lEbxkOJobg-0-60ZxvZ7a8w5Dkafmuu521w-ygDTQiiPa_6P-hYMN-o-YI2Wy_plfD4WAbFIN3PxiH3yVtmrel14qCZkWD69nNPAtTFSQ=w213-h320" width="213" /></a></div>They were going to make <u>first</u> impressions. It was exciting to say the least, and reminiscent of bouncing around in the tunnel before the <u>big</u> <u>moments</u> prior to a game. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Nervous</u> energy took over, but <u>not</u> <u>so</u> <u>fast</u>. Shooting <u><b>wouldn't</b></u> <u>begin</u> <u><b>until</b></u> dark, well into the night. Colton, as well as the other guys, were advised to <u>rest</u>! He had brought 2 nice outfits for the first night at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u> mansion. Colton went with a suit and amenities that would make him <u>comfortable</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">hated</u> wearing ties. After being mic'd for the night, Colton <u>played</u> it being cool & calm, although he was <b><u>ANYTHING</u> <u>BUT</u>!</b> It was <u>right</u> <u>then</u> that Colton was hit by a sudden attack of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiety</u>. <b><u>DAMN</u> <u>IT</u>! </b>Colton's mind was out of control. He was having <u style="font-weight: bold;">trouble</u> catching his breath. Colton's face turned a ghostly white. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <u>center</u> himself and call his producers. High level expectations of <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiety</u> bled through Colton. It was showtime! His heart was beating like it wanted to escape his body. His breathing was <u>equally</u> <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">fast</i> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">control</u>. With Colton's face everywhere, on a billboard, because he was sat down next to him, given a shoulder to squeeze. Everything was going to be <u>okay</u>! Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> talk to somebody.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Colton's producer was whom he had to tell what bothered him. His promise to keep Colton's <u style="font-weight: bold;">secrets</u> <u>secret</u> wasn't working. Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">crumbling</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">under</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">weight</u> of his own inclination to <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">tell</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">truth</u>. About telling Tia and other ladies prior to filming. Colton explained their prior histories. Their introduction had been so fast Colton could <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">barely</b> remember it. No more than a hello. After listening without emotion, her response did <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> to help his anxiety or <u>calm</u> his paranoia. Then again, Colton's ass was in front of a camera; not hers. That did <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> to <u>help</u> Colton's anxiety. After being informed of the first conversation. . .the lady would recognize Colton. Becca <u>didn't</u> seem upset. He took that as a sign of Colton's inability to kick off the show at the last minute, which was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGH</u> <u>relief</u>. Colton's breathing returned to normal, and ever so gradually, so did the rest of Colton. Colton was <u>assured</u> he would be okay. He hoped he would be! <u>Let's Get This Party Started</u>!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>As the sun was setting, Colton was being escorted with his producer into the hotel lobby. Then, Colton seen several of the other guys. Before he could introduce himself to anyone, Colton was led to an open door at the back of an idling limo. 3 guys were already inside. A producer and cameraman were also wedged toward the door. Colton got in and broke the ice with a joke! Making the ride itself <u>much</u> <u>more</u> <u>chill</u>/<u>relax</u>. Sharing friendly chit-chat along the ride about how <u>nuts</u> this ''<i>reality</i>' was becoming all the way to the mansion. Conversation stopped. After <u>months</u> of prep; <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u> <u>sat</u> <u>in</u>! All of the guys were thinking of what to say to Becca for an introductory <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">line</i>. <b><i>First impressions count </i><u>ALOT</u>!</b> Production offered assistance where the guys were <u>lacking</u>. Colton settled for party poppers initiating to <u>get</u> <u>the</u> <u>party</u> <u>started</u>/<u>popping</u>! Colton was rehearsing what to say 1,000x as he watched other guys. Colton took it <u>all</u> in. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>, <u>surreal</u> & crazy. Colton managed to <u>block</u> his <u style="font-style: italic;">fear</u> that Becca recognized him. What would happen if she did? <u style="font-style: italic;">Breathe</u>. Then Colton's turn was up.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Colton was <i><u>freaking</u> <u>out</u></i> a little. After being given instructions of what to do; what <u><i>sounded</i></u> easy was <u>completely</u> <u>blank</u>! Colton had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">memory</u> of introducing himself to Becca. He watched it later on TV, and all seemed to go well. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">blank</u><b>!</b> A <u>successful</u> meeting from what he <u>could</u> remember! The next thing Colton remembers, he was walking into the mansion's living room and finding it <u style="font-weight: bold;">packed</u> with a bunch of coiffed & dressed <u>good</u>-<u>looking</u> guys. The room buzzed with a nervous, hyper-competitive energy. Everyone was on edge. There was nothing to do until Becca finished meeting all of the guys. Then one-on-one's would begin. Colton looked around the room and thought <b><i>there were </i><u style="font-style: italic;">alot</u><i> of really good-looking guys here</i>!</b> <b><i>It was intimidating. Colton managed to enjoy meeting some of the guys</i></b>. Colton had won a small victory. Becca <u>hadn't</u> recognized him, or she played it cool. Colton had no idea or recollection other than a <u>HELLO</u>!</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYnkYt3-7Bp4naGEnSAf9GLbUivFt9_KXeVu2Xb17RHTEkj7VLNUi_YqcL1Xvwnfs6kvI3n1FpiuT_gVKITz2DsJXN5BktvG3fi8xTdCYonJ4RqDD34Mk0Dm3zIS10NhKo0IebJp1RHty6jih7J4AEqt6Q6Zf-162ljBDQtGA8qGLKSSxbDvY0ECiLmg=s1000" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1000" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYnkYt3-7Bp4naGEnSAf9GLbUivFt9_KXeVu2Xb17RHTEkj7VLNUi_YqcL1Xvwnfs6kvI3n1FpiuT_gVKITz2DsJXN5BktvG3fi8xTdCYonJ4RqDD34Mk0Dm3zIS10NhKo0IebJp1RHty6jih7J4AEqt6Q6Zf-162ljBDQtGA8qGLKSSxbDvY0ECiLmg=s320" width="320" /></a></div>Their first one-on-one also went by without <u>any</u> <u>acknowledgement</u> of their previous <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTime</u>. If she remembered him. . .she didn't show it. Nor did Colton remind her. He kept it to small talk about the <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. and about the foundation and the satisfaction from it. Colton hit his bullet points. He thought Becca was amazing. They <u>seemed</u> to connect. Colton was good. . .or so he thought. It was close to 4:00A when Colton got his first rose. He was off in a corner by himself- the <u>first</u> <u>time</u> <u>alone</u> Colton had in <u style="font-weight: bold;">hours</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">time</u> to process all that happened. - DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE due to the DEMANDS OF PRODUCTION! Never any downtime. Colton <u>hoped</u> he made a good first-impression on Becca as she had on him. It was then that Colton was asked whether his courtship with Tia should be brought up? That brought Colton to a panic. With his teeth gritting, Colton <u>agreed</u>! <u>Fine</u>! At his producer's prompting, Colton contacted Tia on social media for <u>consent</u>. He expressed <u style="font-style: italic;">relief</u> that Becca <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> remember. He <u>had</u> <u>to</u> bring it up to Becca the next time he seen her. Leaving the <u style="font-weight: bold;">ULTIMATE</u> decision to Colton to <u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u> with her. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>By the <u>end</u> of the night, Colton was one of the few guys who <u>wasn't</u> <u>still</u> holding onto his rose. He was never sentimental about them, unlike some of the other guys. After a few hours of sleep, they'd climbed back aboard the shuttle, this time with their bags, and moved into the mansion. All of them were assigned roommates. Colton claimed a single bed off to the side, though he had to stack his 2 suitcases at the end so his feet <u>wouldn't</u> hang on the side. As Colton began to unpack, he began to think of the historical luck of Becca's previous interests. Colton began to think if he was <b><i><u>indoubtedbly</u> wasting his time</i>? </b><u>Questions</u> lingered Colton <u>mentally</u>. Weighing him down. Colton was amazed at the way one tiny spark of concern could erupt into <u style="font-weight: bold;">major</u> paranoia. He didn't want to go home this soon. Colton gave everyone a 3 month time-frame. </span></span></span>Colton obsessed over whether to tell the truth or keep his mouth shut. In the end. . .the <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONORABLE</u> way was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> of acknowledgement. When it was Colton's turn to speak to Becca, he was <u>straightforward</u> and <u>matter</u>-<u>of</u>-<u>fact</u>. . .as <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> Colton can. The "<b><u>REAL</u></b>" truth. But, that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">HISTORY</u>, as far as Colton was concerned, and a brief one at best.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPvaq5-rq04pvf6g5hc8TE4stnBBqlO-v1Jq1amkb2B_fvQ8aj7v0f7wwxTe1Ni16SImX2sjpBPdatckjJXuWQ_sxjcjSFxZgt-xyzcZc6iG0OeJDg-g3WlabzJurDh0OT8jGS3eyM55fjVOVmryiycpLpbiv2MhJxCD5mB6KMzBgf6kOO_rffDinuPQ=s760" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="760" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPvaq5-rq04pvf6g5hc8TE4stnBBqlO-v1Jq1amkb2B_fvQ8aj7v0f7wwxTe1Ni16SImX2sjpBPdatckjJXuWQ_sxjcjSFxZgt-xyzcZc6iG0OeJDg-g3WlabzJurDh0OT8jGS3eyM55fjVOVmryiycpLpbiv2MhJxCD5mB6KMzBgf6kOO_rffDinuPQ=w320-h320" width="320" /></a></div>At</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">this</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">time</u>, Colton <u>seemed</u> to have "<b><i><u>nothing</u> <u>to</u> <u>hide</u></i></b>". He assured Becca that he thought she was an awesome person he wanted to know, hoping she felt the same. Colton felt <u>good</u> and <u>confident</u>! What <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> knew was others' reaction. Becca may have responded. But, later, at the cocktail party, they had their next encounter where the drama was being <u>drawn</u> <u>out</u> until the rose ceremony where Colton got a rose. He was <u>relieved</u>. Colton <u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> he would be in the danger zone. Sure enough, when he woke up the next morning, he was. The next morning began with a group date of 6 guys accompanying Becca and 5 of her friends to a spa for pampering. It was a <u>hunch</u>, but Colton <u>sensed</u> something was up. Colton began to piece together what would've been in store by production. He wondered if he was being <u style="font-style: italic;">paranoid</u>. He <u>wasn't</u>! His <u style="font-style: italic;">paranoia</u> was an <u>accurate</u> premonition. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Truth</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">told</u>. . .Colton was a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">wreck</u>. He didn't know how much to tell or what to say. He didn't want to be, but Colton has a hard time being <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> but <u style="font-weight: bold;">truthful</u>. He may <u>not</u> lie, and if he <u>tried</u>, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Tia would bust him on it. <u>But,</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> fall for it. <u>Not</u> on National T.V. Colton smiled and moved forward. Colton was only <b><u>4</u> </b><u>days</u> into this thing and knew he was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">head</u>. <b><i>How Did Colton </i><u>NOT</u> <i><u>know</u></i>?</b> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There were <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> moving parts to <u>keep</u> <u>track</u> of going against masters. Colton <u>sensed</u> that Becca was playing the game, but also that she <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> liked him. Colton <u>reminded</u> himself to be "<b><u style="font-style: italic;">AS</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">AUTHENTIC</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">AS</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">POSSIBLE</u>!</b>" in <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> situation. In any relationship, let someone see your <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> self. . .not just your <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEST</u> self. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u> want this to work. As he waited for Becca to enter the party, Colton worked out a plan in his head. It may have been pretty bold, but it would make a statement and serve as a <u>clear</u> reboot of their situation. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Once Becca got in front of Colton, her impression was <u>impossible</u> to read. He did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> see her smiling. . .she had a <u>complete</u> poker-face. Becca was in <u>complete</u> silence . . . .which was deafening and is there anything <u>sharper</u> than a deafening silence? Colton wanted Becca to say <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Anything</u>. Or just smile again. <i>In awkward situations</i>, <i>the mind is a dangerous place to be</i>! Due to past conversations with previous people around, Colton thought she knew more than she led on. Colton had an <u style="font-weight: bold;">overwhelming</u> urge to tell her <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> he'd ever done or about himself; <b><i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">EVERYTHING</i>!</b> Whatever she wanted to know, Colton was an open book. He was willing to confess to <u>anything</u>. <u>Finally</u>, Becca broke out a big grin. Whatever it was laughing at him or nerves, Colton <u>didn't</u> care. They had a good talk, an even better kiss, and he knew things between them were going to be okay.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgevVpNrli-knctFwBwd1u2tkwXfu6qNEKIvEKVhMvsCaiSq6d7fUBTSxVkd8waSJgDaEkD_COj7LiQ5ARFXsJtKpx7B3oFZ7qS-ddLSW5rbnpxKoK4fOcIeS6awTIb3-0vXyYGs3rlPVmR2yCwf6AFNK8pwtIgNSClg8NQNuaBuaBKYxV7D4kdr_BpRA=s900" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="900" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgevVpNrli-knctFwBwd1u2tkwXfu6qNEKIvEKVhMvsCaiSq6d7fUBTSxVkd8waSJgDaEkD_COj7LiQ5ARFXsJtKpx7B3oFZ7qS-ddLSW5rbnpxKoK4fOcIeS6awTIb3-0vXyYGs3rlPVmR2yCwf6AFNK8pwtIgNSClg8NQNuaBuaBKYxV7D4kdr_BpRA=s320" width="320" /></a></div>The kitchen in the house was a free-for-all. In the morning, guys got up at all different hours and made their own breakfast. Colton <u>usually</u> made eggs. Dinner was more of a <u>group</u> dinner. For groceries, they wrote their requests in a notebook and submitted them to producers. <u>Nothing</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">extravagant</u> but they ate <u>well</u>. Steak, salmon & chicken. Those whom did't cook were on dish duty due to a <u>broken</u> dishwasher. Producers were <u>trick</u>-<u>key</u> (<i>tricky</i>). Colton would be thinking he was on the same page with them. But, they avenued the plans down an altered road. Because Colton was talking to one of his producers and they had a rapport, he admitted he didn't have much experience being sexual. He seen the downside to being <u style="font-style: italic;">honest</u>. But, Colton was hiding "<i><u>things</u></i>". Starting the show with <u>secrets</u>. One was already out of pre-knowing somebody. The other was his virginity. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Other <u>secrets</u> would come later</i>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> to go down there. Admitting it is one thing . . .saying it <u style="font-weight: bold;">loudly</u> was another.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colton <u>realized</u> he might as well have had it imprinted on his forehead. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Secrets </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">aren't</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> safe for Colton. . .</i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">especially</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">his</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">own</u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Now, that's </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ironic</u>. Colton didn't want to bring up his virginity status unless he <b><u>absolutely</u> <u>had</u> <u>to</u>!</b> In week 5 of the show, Colton heard the destination was Las Vegas. He had been there a few times and came up with a list of possibilities. But, production had other plans. With as much as everyone could joke, the show tried to keep class among the mission at hand. After a long arduous scheduled date, Colton returned to the mansion to find that his virginity had gone from a hot topic to going <u>viral</u> within the house. Colton had confided to his mansion-mates, the 2 guys whom he was the <u>closest</u>. He<i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">doesn't</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">know</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">why</u> he felt compelled to spill the gossip on himself; but Colton had to <u>slightly</u> unburden himself. <u>Maybe</u>, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">testing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">waters</u>. They were surprised to hear what they heard. The word <u>virgin</u> used <u>in</u> <u>this</u> <u>context</u> was foreign to them for a minute. But, they were <u>supportive</u>! And <u style="font-weight: bold;">talkative</u>! <i>Telephone</i>, <i>telegram</i>, <i>tell</i>-<i>everyone</i>. Traveling was through the house like wildfire. Like a rumor at a slumber party. One guy <u style="font-weight: bold;">admitted</u> to sex addiction. If the showrunners & production knew this, that guy <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldn't</u> be there! Colton and this other guy represented the <b><u>EXTREMES</u>!</b> for the show. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Comments and wisecracks didn't bother Colton. They said more about the person <u>making</u> them than Colton. As he <u>discovered</u> in high school</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">sexual preference is </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">a choice. There may be questioning, fear & embarrassment and figuring it out may take sometime, as well as some courage</i>. <b><i>Asking questions and experimentation. Finding your comfort zone and revealing your <u>true</u>, <u>naked</u> <u>self</u> through an act of love - with someone who will share in that experience and make you feel good about it and about yourself</i></b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Colton had <u>chosen</u> to stay a virgin until he fell in love. But, that doesn't mean that Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">hadn't</u> been intimate. He just <u>hasn't</u> been <u>all</u> <u>the</u> <u>way</u>. Just getting close and making each other feel good. Colton seen <u>NO</u> negative side. <u>Neither</u> was it a reason to be ridiculed or shamed. When someone gave their sexual number, Colton had <u>NOT</u> slut-shamed them, envy of them, nor did he make jokes. Colton <u>respected</u> them as they did him. Whom was Colton to judge? But, on the spe.ctrum, Colton knew he was judged <u>every</u> <u>time</u> he <u>admitted</u> his virginity. Contrary to the image. Those whom got to know him discovered it was only one <u>facet</u> of him. It <u>didn't</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">define</u> him. It was much less interesting than the work Colton did with the foundation. <u>One</u> act helped prolong life, the other lasted a few minutes. The mistake would be to think that Colton would trade his virginity for a fling. He just wanted to <u>be</u> <u>in</u> <u>love</u> when he made love losing his virginity. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u> an <u>easy</u> pre-condition. That was <u><i>one</i></u> reason why Colton was on <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Maybe the fact that Colton didn't make sex the <u>defining</u> issue of his masculinity made him <u>more</u> interesting to some people. There were many multiple variables in which this could be played out, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u> to see a <u>negative</u>. <u>All</u> he could do was make choices that felt <u>right</u> <u>for</u> <u>Colton</u>; that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> there was to say on it. If it made people <u>uncomfortable</u> that was on them/their problem. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Don't judge someone's laundry unless yours is clean</i>. Weren't they <u>all</u> there because of something missing - or someone from their own lives? It was <u>part</u> of whom Colton was. It may have been embarrassing; but that would last long enough to speak it. <u>Everyone</u> was understandable without judgement. It might've made Colton <u>more</u> attractive! Once it was said <u>out</u> <u>loud</u>, they could move on! No big deal, right?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFQuHemKFYD-oHACpwlsBh4fU8Tu25xTdwZMcUNqWZoaXzCWiJ7GhghX00bPzlCDubsJqpvQGeWYjUI48aOWy-1wSyDjGuqfSR-Wvubgo5p9EBQD93ILPJZGEW1lfaCN_M0_vDul0JiY9UMi0u1U31AKpgIuvdCdFr9AlEUVZNnCc4KWW9T9nFfi872Q=s1280" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFQuHemKFYD-oHACpwlsBh4fU8Tu25xTdwZMcUNqWZoaXzCWiJ7GhghX00bPzlCDubsJqpvQGeWYjUI48aOWy-1wSyDjGuqfSR-Wvubgo5p9EBQD93ILPJZGEW1lfaCN_M0_vDul0JiY9UMi0u1U31AKpgIuvdCdFr9AlEUVZNnCc4KWW9T9nFfi872Q=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake & Colton</td></tr></tbody></table>As Colton kept going, if Colton wasn't involved or wasn't due to for anything; he was off to the side. Let them do their thing. Colton enjoyed some quality time with Becca. She liked to hang out after the roses were handed out and shoot the shit. When production took someone for his in-the-moment (<i>I.T.M.</i>) interview, Colton seen something he <u style="font-weight: bold;">shouldn't</u> have. As Blake was doing his interview, Becca was sitting on his lap and they were making out. Keeping that bit of intel to himself. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As they headed to the Bahama's week 7, at this point, Colton didn't care whether he was among Becca's TOP choices. He was in the Bahama's and just <u>taking</u> <u>it</u> <u>in</u> and <u>loving</u> it. The trip to Nassau was better. At this point, Colton was ready for <u>the</u> conversation. It was just a word. Only 2 syllables. Vir.Gin. No. Problem. That afternoon, Becca & Colton went snorkeling. While <u>enjoying</u> themselves, it was an opportunity to get <u>even</u> <u>more</u> <u>personal</u>. It was a much friendly appreciative slip that let Colton know he was on Becca's list for hometowns. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Some</u> of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">pressure</u> was off. Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u> to go back home. <i style="font-weight: bold;">He talked about things on the show that his parents didn't even know</i>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">They were soon to find out</i>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_F9NRs2eU5PYv64w5IY6VRL6onJ3i2UvoqjGG71uMQkImFeaIJSPLPk1I0HOmKcoCIOwCvZ4p_FrrF-ysjZpQin-Q7_8YPEbaN5iR2PMSLd0-UWMt0S6ufW-20EIdPZvW2Ud2GS3QQaFQtaqr_Rm6nGr70N1ZVUr6e2Z6K-LWnVszpsY_wFonQEX6A/s1200/colton-underwood-becca-kufrin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_F9NRs2eU5PYv64w5IY6VRL6onJ3i2UvoqjGG71uMQkImFeaIJSPLPk1I0HOmKcoCIOwCvZ4p_FrrF-ysjZpQin-Q7_8YPEbaN5iR2PMSLd0-UWMt0S6ufW-20EIdPZvW2Ud2GS3QQaFQtaqr_Rm6nGr70N1ZVUr6e2Z6K-LWnVszpsY_wFonQEX6A/s320/colton-underwood-becca-kufrin.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Becca</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;">As the evening progressed, Becca looked opposite him. She had a cocktail in front of her and Colton had a glass of white wine. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Colton <u>wanted</u> to tell her something. It was something Colton <u>struggled</u> with articulating</i>. Take a <u>breath</u>. Colton had put football <b><u>ahead</u></b> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u>; including his <u style="font-weight: bold;">personal</u> life. Among <u style="font-weight: bold;">alot</u> more. One being his virginity. The words came out of Colton in a <u>halting</u> manner. He was <u>more</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">nervous</u> than he <u>actually</u> was. The word <u style="font-style: italic;">virgin</u> had a <u style="font-style: italic;">strange</u> kind of power that made it <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> to say even after <u>committing</u> to tell her. Why? Everyone is a virgin to a <u>certain</u> point. Even at this point in age, it was still off-key and shy for Colton. He only spoke of it <u>literally</u> a number of times; his ex-girlfriend, Tia, the show's producers, several guys on the show and a roomful of <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. linebackers. He wasn't even sure his dad, Scott, knew. Colton addresses that it should be publicized due to everyone involved with him romantically <u>needed</u> to know. Becca had to leave the table to gather her thoughts. They had a nice thoughtful talk at the table. Colton appreciated the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALNESS</u> in the conversation. Colton was <u>assured</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> judgments about his personal decision. He was <u>even</u> <u>more</u> respected. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iS0tZJU2OYi6cmeqYUy-xp7t5PtIYBqFX7axHd_aInixfaRy1D5evrP09tm8WpR-NVV_ze0pNP82J0UabFBVcUrhQCEOKmCbdSXzjQfypgiieWJcPyKgAX-ItXe1wyhkp7r4yyIfSCDXSzv6uPbn87ZoB29E_WISHVPxx4HuLvD9tBlWt2VN-S-4zg/s574/roses.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="534" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2iS0tZJU2OYi6cmeqYUy-xp7t5PtIYBqFX7axHd_aInixfaRy1D5evrP09tm8WpR-NVV_ze0pNP82J0UabFBVcUrhQCEOKmCbdSXzjQfypgiieWJcPyKgAX-ItXe1wyhkp7r4yyIfSCDXSzv6uPbn87ZoB29E_WISHVPxx4HuLvD9tBlWt2VN-S-4zg/s320/roses.jpg" width="298" /></a></div>Although Colton feared her response, he </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KNEW</u><span style="text-align: left;"> she was cool. A</span><span style="text-align: left;">t</span><span style="text-align: left;"> the end of that long night, Becca gave Colton a rose and he returned to his room pleased with the outcome; believing the issue of his virginity was something Colton wouldn't have to deal with again on the show. Colton had 4 more days left in tropical paradise with nothing to do but </span><u style="text-align: left;">enjoy</u><span style="text-align: left;"> it. As they wrapped in Nassau</span><span style="text-align: left;">, shit among the guys </span><b style="text-align: left;"><u>GOT</u> <u>REAL</u>!</b><span style="text-align: left;"> Jealousies </span><u style="color: red; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">boiled</u><span style="text-align: left;"> beneath the surface. They </span><u style="text-align: left;">quit</u><span style="text-align: left;"> talking about Becca among themselves. They all spent time with her and felt a connection. It was </span><u style="text-align: left;">impossible</u><span style="text-align: left;"> to </span><u style="text-align: left;">not</u><span style="text-align: left;"> fall in love; and those feelings were hard to share. </span><u style="text-align: left;">But</u><span style="text-align: left;">, were they shared? Becca had a </span><u style="text-align: left;">deeper</u><span style="text-align: left;"> connection emotionally which led to a </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">deeper</u><span style="text-align: left;"> place. Colton still had hometowns ahead of him. He was </span><u style="text-align: left;">toast</u><span style="text-align: left;"> Let the emotions and roses fall where they may.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Discussions between guys on whom they thought Becca was going to choose was fun; similar to fantasy football. One of the guys asked Colton what he thought would happen next, after Becca dumped one of the guys. They guessed that Colton would be 4TH on the list. Maybe, given that Colton was eliminating <u>himself</u>. In the guessing of how & who, Colton was <u>mostly</u> right. 3 guys & Colton made it to hometowns. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he <u>wasn't</u> going to be selected or picked in the end; so he said his goodbyes; <u style="font-weight: bold;">MEANT</u> it, wished the others "<i>good luck</i>" and flew back to L.A. with his producer; whom took over as his full-time babysitter. They shopped, worked out, and visited Colton's favorite steakhouse <u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">show's</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tab</u>. Still prohibited from access to Internet, Colton <u>couldn't</u> search for <u>any</u> spoliers about their hometowns. He could only hope his was okay. And it <u>sure</u> did.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">After landing in Denver and taking in their <u>first</u> breath of the air, Colton was excited to be there. What began as introductions to their <u>homes</u>, Becca got a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> taste of Colton when they met with kids at the local children's hospital and Colton <u>introduced</u> her to the work he did with the Foundation. As he told her, these visits always made Colton a better person. Confident of having made a <u style="font-weight: bold;">strong</u>, <u>positive</u> impression, Colton psyched himself up for the family dinner at his dad's house. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">held</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his </u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">breath</u> as Becca met his parents and their prospective spouses, Connor and his fiance, Jennica, and other family members. Although the group totaled 18, they weren't a family. They were a team. Team Colton. They were loving, protective, skeptical and <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> unpredictable. Scott prepped his son's <u>favorite</u> meal - salmon, potatoes, asparagus & mac/cheese - Scott was a <u>straight</u> <u>shooter</u>. Donna was even more of a wild card. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">HATED</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> prospect & being of the show. She <u>let</u> <u>it</u> <u>be</u> <u>known</u>. Colton threw footballs. Donna threw <u>foul</u> <u>language</u>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br />When Becca & Colton got to the house, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it was going to be a make-or-break for him. Scott was <u>blunt</u> with Becca. He told her <u>not</u> to pick his son if she <u>wasn't</u> sure. <i style="font-weight: bold;">It was better to hurt them now than down the road</i>. Donna was supportive either way; but she played for cameras until she could hear the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> from her son. Before she spoke with Becca, mother/son went off by themselves and Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">confessed</u> his virginity to his mom. This was the <u>first</u> time Colton admitted it to her; <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u> but <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">anxiety</i> and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervousness</u> would roam when Colton would <i>come out</i> with <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> later with his parents. His producers gave Colton a ton of support leading to the talk. Production <u style="font-weight: bold;">agreed</u> it would be in Colton's <u style="font-weight: bold;">best</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">interest</u> to tell Donna so she didn't find out on TV. This kind of constant push for <u>emotional</u> <u>honesty</u> is what <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u> Colton the <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">most</b> about being in the show and also what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u>. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> Colton to <u style="font-weight: bold;">begin</u> having <u style="font-weight: bold;">brutal</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">honest</u> conversations with his parents that <u>would've</u> <u>remained</u> <u>unspoken</u> otherwise. In doing so, they were able to become closer; especially father/son. Scott got to <u>know</u> his son for <u>him</u> for more than just a football player. They talked about <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">shit</u>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-K4qIUuyd-a_Sa7ZVLF2zY6_EqKwTgaISzA_bV5w2kQKjSpj76rKGjHxAISnak1TBfHQVougpSl206J7ZaBhsJwMtxvOdFy_VZt8KVjansFkar6a6dVxgoInvAk6W-1AnhfQPGsWtzs6E3nl7CsZccwOtUUGsQETdPo9nSWFe6MEZOY_BMzayBPAPJg/s792/colton%20&%20chris.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="634" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-K4qIUuyd-a_Sa7ZVLF2zY6_EqKwTgaISzA_bV5w2kQKjSpj76rKGjHxAISnak1TBfHQVougpSl206J7ZaBhsJwMtxvOdFy_VZt8KVjansFkar6a6dVxgoInvAk6W-1AnhfQPGsWtzs6E3nl7CsZccwOtUUGsQETdPo9nSWFe6MEZOY_BMzayBPAPJg/s320/colton%20&%20chris.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>The show, in itself, was like 2 months of intensive relationship therapy, which Colton highly recommends. Therapy. The hometowns finished. Things had formatted and sent set the stage for Tia and Colton to meet again on <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor In Paradise</u>, except that Colton wasn't thinking that far ahead. They still had the rose ceremony ahead of them. What virgin wouldn't be curious about what went on in the fantasy suites? Colton wanted to know <u>the</u> <u>basics</u>, what to know beforehand. Who better to give you "<i>the talk</i>" than Chris Harrison? Becca had the guys in the palm of her hand, which was where they wanted to be. Colton presumed his virginity made him a shoo-in for the fantasy suites. Who could possibly be more <i><u>awkward</u></i>, <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">nervous</i>, and funny in this situation than Colton?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><u style="text-align: left;"><br /></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><u style="text-align: left;">As</u><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><u style="text-align: left;">soon</u><span style="text-align: left;"> it was </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">painfully</u><span style="text-align: left;"> apparent that Becca's thoughts differed from Colton, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> get a rose. He was surprised and hurt. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Only</u> hurt in the sense that Colton had been "<i><u>honest</u></i>" about himself and opened his heart, <u style="font-weight: bold;">believing</u> the emotions were reciprocated, but in the end it wasn't enough, and it wasn't him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u> kind of hurt <b><u>NO</u> <u>MATTER</u> <u>whom</u> <u>it</u> <u>is</u>!</b> The shock of it actually happening and realizing this dream ride is over. Colton said his goodbyes to the guys; and then Becca & Colton parted ways. Wishing each other the best w/ NO hard feelings. It's better to end on a good note, then lost a good friend. Colton and his producer went back to the hotel. He stayed there for the next 2 days; catching up on sleep and his workouts. It felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">good</u> to <u>just</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">let</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">go</u> and be off schedule from nearly 3 months inside <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u> bubble. When Colton was given back his cell phone, it was like he was given back the keys to his <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">REAL</b> life; although <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> would be the same again. Production looked at the notoriety and status name upgrade that came with Colton's time on the show. As Colton flew back to Denver the next morning, the staff stayed in touch with Colton. They said he would be a good bachelor. Something Colton hadn't given much thought to....considering what else was hidden from Colton <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ready</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> to face. . .let alone </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">say</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">out</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">loud</u>. But, Colton was seeing what was possible.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The next day, Colton powered up his phone. He had 1,600 text messages, 240 missed calls, and more than <u>over</u> 10,000 e-mails. He called his parents with an update, and Scott <u>wondered</u> if his family blew it for his son. Colton assured his dad that Becca was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> going to pick him and gave him the <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">download</u> of the experience a couple of days later when Colton got home from Denver. Despite what she told Becca, Donna was <b><u>relieved</u></b> her son didn't return with the <u><b>supposed</b></u> future of a daughter-in-law. They debated the difference between meeting <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">someone</u> in a bar, a dating app or reality show and in the end agreed it came down to chemistry, timing, desire, compatibility, trust and all that's in-between. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFs8_JrS6yclspj7dm7hWXOMUh1PztZRdzQsDTNAaIUWEbZpsYCWu5QFjtAczEDzx67GnWF1VEJ2n9vwpV8x3fFF-m2fGn17qRYpjNR76FpMv5rjdHmIBUX3xv-CwK4f-2raeX3iJXtoECSPTrfjWfoOYMUG8gddWbsZqczn1tBdo3-wbm2oG7Y_t_Q/s1200/bip.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="1200" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFs8_JrS6yclspj7dm7hWXOMUh1PztZRdzQsDTNAaIUWEbZpsYCWu5QFjtAczEDzx67GnWF1VEJ2n9vwpV8x3fFF-m2fGn17qRYpjNR76FpMv5rjdHmIBUX3xv-CwK4f-2raeX3iJXtoECSPTrfjWfoOYMUG8gddWbsZqczn1tBdo3-wbm2oG7Y_t_Q/s320/bip.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Happy to be back in Denver, Colton slept in, worked out, and went out on hikes with his dog; Sniper. During those first few days back in Denver, Colton engaged in a back-and-forth with producers about <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor-In-Paradise</u>. Before he left L.A., they pitched the idea of going on the show. Shooting began in 2 weeks. Colton had less than a week to decide. But, he didn't need that much time. <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Paradise</i> <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> look that way to Colton. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> see the fun. The culture of the beach, partying, and talking trash to one another <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> Colton. He wasn't in this for that. But, Colton was soon to see that <u>he</u> was <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> <u>himself</u>; but was <u>now</u> a character in their "<i>reality</i>" drama. No one made any promises, but Colton got the feeling that if <u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u> went well, he might have a good shot at <i><b>continuing his prayer</b></i> of becoming <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. Did it feel right? Colton had his <u style="font-weight: bold;">own</u> X-Factor <i><b>situations side of him</b></i>. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u> life. Colton's <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> life. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqatqYLx--NPxj2HTMYWPnj2dWBbW9xSfgQ9tEUG4hUc5ZmFqP7sg0SJcva0JD2KPPoJ_Yn40o8BjT_DMZJofO89bodbQyI9_eJLyXJiHdeHhe26rWNjQgT5tOR-mf4F0h8H3UPEdanGGm1u7iC3sMia6IptuWvGD3Ki3eFVRPfLGu0D-SmB62RoexhQ/s282/fllies.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="179" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqatqYLx--NPxj2HTMYWPnj2dWBbW9xSfgQ9tEUG4hUc5ZmFqP7sg0SJcva0JD2KPPoJ_Yn40o8BjT_DMZJofO89bodbQyI9_eJLyXJiHdeHhe26rWNjQgT5tOR-mf4F0h8H3UPEdanGGm1u7iC3sMia6IptuWvGD3Ki3eFVRPfLGu0D-SmB62RoexhQ/s1600/fllies.jpeg" width="179" /></a></div>Before making his decision, Colton had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">internalize</u> a <u>LOT</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEPLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UNANSWERED</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">conflicting</u> questions. As bad as it was, <u style="font-weight: bold;">badly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u> to be <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. Colton called around and learned about <u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u>. It was a dating themed <u style="font-style: italic;">Lord Of The Flies</u>; the conditions were kind of rough: <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> air-conditioning, the huts had no doors, and bugs were <u>everywhere</u>. Everything Colton <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">hates</b>, insects, humidity, dirt, lack of privacy . . .But, Colton wanted to be <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. From the time Colton heard the idea mentioned, he <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">thought</i> of himself in that role. He didn't know <u style="font-weight: bold;">how</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> he wanted it <i style="font-weight: bold;">or thought he <u>needed</u> it</i> <u style="font-weight: bold;">until</u> he faced the possibility of <u>not</u> being <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. Colton wasn't done with the experience or the people involved in creating it. He also <u>wasn't</u> <u>done</u> with the experience in of itself. Colton was going to roll the dice, play the odds and press his luck. Saying yes to <u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u> was in his <u>best</u> interests. He called the producers and Colton was in. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u> was what you made of it. If you want to party, you can. If you want to chill, you will. <u>Exactly</u> what Colton needed to hear. When Colton settled his affairs, he packed and headed for Mexico. He intended to be there for 2 weeks or less. If he stayed longer, <u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u> would have a potential crossover episode. On his way to the airport, Colton stopped at <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Home Depot</i> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">SMARTLY</u> bought a portable swamp cooler for his hotel room together. The hotel was <u>fabulous</u> but boring. He binged-watched movies <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> overate that when he did <u>finally</u> step onto the <u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u> beach, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> the weight of the food he ate. Chris Harrison welcomed Colton with a date card. As he said, Colton was there to explore the <u>many</u> <u>options</u> <u>available</u> to him. <b><i>Never knew whom it could be</i>?</b> Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> sometime mid-season on <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. When in doubt; kiss. It was <u>easier</u> than trying to think about what to say and much more fun. At the rose ceremony, Colton was given his officiated rose of going home from the show. When Colton handed Tia a rose on <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Guy's Night</i>. He crossed the <u>personal</u> line Colton set for himself on <u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u>. Colton could hear <u>himself</u> saying to himself <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <b><u>LIE</u>!</b> And what exactly was Colton doing? He felt like <b><u>COMPLETE</u> <u>SHIT</u>!</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">On the flight home, Colton purchased the in-flight Wi-Fi and texted Tia. She assured him she was okay. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> better off as friends, and they remained friends. <u>To</u> <u>this</u> <u>day</u>, Tia is still one of Colton's <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">trusted</u> confidants. Back in Denver, Colton slept for <u style="font-weight: bold;">18</u> hrs <u>straight</u> and went to the gym. He had only been back a few weeks and his body <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">suffered</b> in reaction. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>the long<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>sleep and a nard workout to <u>reset</u> his life. He wanted to get back to "<i>normalcy</i>". It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> for his body to adjust to a life past football and all of that life threw his away since Colton just wanted to feel good and figure out <u>WHAT</u>-<u>THE</u>-<u>FUCK</u> was going on. Colton caught up on former <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Bachelor</i>'s talking. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Colton also called his dad, Scott, and warmed him of his emotions </span><u style="text-align: left;">flowing</u><span style="text-align: left;"> of the show. Warning him, Colton tried told his dad of his </span><u style="text-align: left;">overall</u><span style="text-align: left;"> emotional state.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Over the years, Scott caught his son questioning his <i><b>sexual identity</b></i>; going <u style="font-weight: bold;">public</u> on reality TV as a 26-yr-old virgin. And now Colton was preparing him to see his son bawl his eyes out on TV with an <u style="font-weight: bold;">emotional</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">breakdown</u>. Was Colton the All-American linebacker his dad expected? Colton was <b><u>EVEN</u> <u>BETTER</u>!</b> Although, Scott might've spoken too soon.. . . </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Colton needed a couple of weeks before he felt <u>comfortable</u> back in his <u>own</u> home. He had barely lived there since renting it days prior to departing for <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. 4 months into getting home, it was like an adventure on discovering where his belongings were; like dishes, blankets, and old football jerseys. Colton had to make his house a <u>home</u>. Something that was <u>HIS</u>. He relied on the dozens of packs taken from hotels and snacks he saved from planes and photo shoots. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WAY</u> to live. . .and somehow Colton had this <u>feeling</u> of not being able to <u>find</u> <u>his</u> <u>life</u>. <b><i>A life that was too far from where he knew. He was </i><u>LOST</u>!</b> While watching season 14 of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u> set to premiere on May 28TH, 2018. He was counting the days. Colton remembers <u>having</u> the words of his <u>future</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">notoriety</u>. Having growing up in the era of "<i>Reality</i>" TV, not to mention schooling himself, in <u>dozens</u> of seasons of <u>both</u> shows. </span><b style="text-align: left;"><i> </i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton was soon educating himself on what he knew v. what he didn't. He was <i><b>excited and scared</b></i>. On the show, Colton opened up about <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>some</u> </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">personal</u> issues in some ways he <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> shared with his family or close friends, and it was all about to get served up on TV for and opened for discussion to even more people on social media. Colton <u>prepped</u> his parents before he began to trend online. Was he ready? Colton was nervous with anticipation. On the plus side, Colton figured time was on his side. Relieved, Colton planned a viewing party at his dad's house for the season premiere. Scott invited friends with a buffet. Donna brought her crew and arrived with more food. A party-theme filled the packed house. It was fun. . .until the show began to wrap. That was when the bomb was dropped. Chris Harrison introduced a super teaser of the rest of the season and suddenly <u>everyone</u> <u>heard</u> Colton's voice; being shaky and emotional. Colton's words were cut up into different fragments and was <b><u>COMPLETELY</u> <u>FRUSTRATING</u>!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There was no getting up and out of the room. <u style="font-weight: bold;">This</u> was a moment when Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> his life was going to change. Whether it's better or worse, Colton had <b><u>NO</u> <u>IDEA</u>!</b> All he knew was that Colton would get through it. Colton had to take a momentary <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">breath</u> and power through. <b><i>Was there anything else Colton wanted to tell them</i>?</b> Production stated they <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> in that moment, however uncomfortable it may be, was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessary</u> step in <u style="font-weight: bold;">owning</u> who he was and figuring out who he was going to be! <u>Everyone</u> has these moments. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Sooner or later, we're all given a choice. . . .Not choosing is a choice</i>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Self</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">honesty</u> began with him (<i>Colton</i>).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUEc7ZJllNEGLxC6r9VsEJdX-VTmOqle-BE4TeLdyypIhOdePYK3DeEi0lwjia1iHiRrliTyMA5h16ZJZonRhVp_tABOGOAuUjh2N4kwx4MIPeQBW3FkmLxn1KK3iX2hxyTpc0TPTL6_gHpcgHgR0GUO7F_VDd4ILdFj5TpwmWAbMyX3PKEt2V1bLYw/s700/jenga.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="700" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUEc7ZJllNEGLxC6r9VsEJdX-VTmOqle-BE4TeLdyypIhOdePYK3DeEi0lwjia1iHiRrliTyMA5h16ZJZonRhVp_tABOGOAuUjh2N4kwx4MIPeQBW3FkmLxn1KK3iX2hxyTpc0TPTL6_gHpcgHgR0GUO7F_VDd4ILdFj5TpwmWAbMyX3PKEt2V1bLYw/s320/jenga.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Over the years, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">lied</u> to his teammates, his coaches and his friends. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Lying</u> about his sexual history with ladies. It was <u>easier</u> to <u>lie</u> than to be honest. The problem with that is. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">lies</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">cover</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">lies</u>; <i style="font-weight: bold;">like setting up a game of </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Jenga</u>. That is until Colton found an unanswered <u style="font-weight: bold;">hopeful</u> prayer called <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. There, the lies would stop. If Colton was going to have a chance at falling in love, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">LIVE</u> it! Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u> with himself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Everyone saw that Colton had done <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXACTLY</u> that. He took what had <u style="font-weight: bold;">crushed</u> him in high school and <u style="font-weight: bold;">embarrassed</u> him in college and put them out there for the world to see and discuss. In some weird cosmic way, it made Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRONGER</u> for it - or so his way. For the next 24 hours, his media <u style="font-weight: bold;">BLEW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UP</u> with contacts. <b><u>ALL</u> <u>SHOWING</u> <u>SUPPORT</u>!</b> After the premiere, Colton watched subsequent episodes at home solo or at his dad's with whomever was there on Monday night. Colton was <u>pleased</u> with the way he came off in Las Vegas when he opened up to Becca about how his <u>first</u> relationship had ended. Colton was able to <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> the effect it had on her with his <b><u>HONESTY</u>!</b> It was 2 weeks later when Colton's dinner date with Becca that <u>finally</u> aired that Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">understood</u> his life was going to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">different</u>. With the span of a few hours, Colton was dubbed <u style="font-style: italic;">The World's Most Famous Virgin</u>. (<i style="font-weight: bold;">Therein for an undisclosed reason for the moment</i>.) When the episode aired, Colton was in the Dominican Republic at Connor's wedding and was <u>overly</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxious</u>. Colton had to <u>steer</u> <u>clear</u> of social media. Every news outlet had Colton's virginity in their headlines. The world in their messages that reached Colton were <u>positive</u> and <u>supportive</u>; although there were naysayers with <u>pure</u> <u>negativity</u>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton wasn't telling people how to think. No amount of experience makes you more suitable for a relationship. Love is love. It's either there or not. The only thing you can do is recognize it and treat it like the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">precious</u> thing in your life. . . Colton seen the hometowns <u>episode</u> from the <u style="font-style: italic;">Children's Hospital</u>. Sitting there in that situation, looking back . . .from where Colton was sitting. . .it put <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> in perspective. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpa5-pEdoDzQb69so9IYUo_nIfXPq8Y6-nw0neREOLnhYHS1sz3dubOLp19Kz6mEczuVz1xXGbb3tlB9segBYnZD0F2thaLceOUsWhQ_RfQJ8oYlICam7vz2B5TEBhiR673k7cyDSslp94KG_jPTeqLUlPr0rIcg7E2MJQdNDN9pyA8SJ4vke-QqtRSA/s1147/sf.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="1147" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpa5-pEdoDzQb69so9IYUo_nIfXPq8Y6-nw0neREOLnhYHS1sz3dubOLp19Kz6mEczuVz1xXGbb3tlB9segBYnZD0F2thaLceOUsWhQ_RfQJ8oYlICam7vz2B5TEBhiR673k7cyDSslp94KG_jPTeqLUlPr0rIcg7E2MJQdNDN9pyA8SJ4vke-QqtRSA/s320/sf.png" width="320" /></a></div>With </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">The Bachelorette</u><span style="text-align: left;"> and </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Paradise</u><span style="text-align: left;"> behind him, Colton found himself back where he was </span><u style="text-align: left;">prior</u><span style="text-align: left;"> to his auditon, where Colton </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">KNEW</u><span style="text-align: left;"> he was </span><u style="text-align: left;">done</u><span style="text-align: left;"> with football and unsure about what to do next. There was </span><u style="text-align: left;">one</u><span style="text-align: left;"> difference that was a new part of his daily life and </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">impossible</u><span style="text-align: left;"> to ignore. His social media following grew. Colton was </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">NO</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">LONGER</u><span style="text-align: left;"> anonymous. He put off job hunting until </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Bachelorette</u><span style="text-align: left;"> and </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Paradise</u><span style="text-align: left;"> were off their air to </span><u style="text-align: left;">avoid</u><span style="text-align: left;"> dealing with people in the workforce watching him on TV. Another reason was that Colton was in regular contact with producers of </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">The Bachelor</u><span style="text-align: left;">, as were several other guys; but the announcement wouldn't come </span><u style="text-align: left;">until</u><span style="text-align: left;"> the end of August. Colton's life was at a </span><u style="text-align: left;">standstill</u><span style="text-align: left;"> until he received the call. Becoming a </span><u style="text-align: left;">waiting</u><span style="text-align: left;"> game. He worked out every day, but that </span><u style="text-align: left;">wasn't</u><span style="text-align: left;"> enough. Scott, </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">SEEING</u><span style="text-align: left;"> that his son was </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">struggling</u><span style="text-align: left;"> without any structure to his day, he had his son come into the <u style="font-style: italic;">State Farm</u> office and answer phones and learn the business. Colton took online courses and starteds down the road to getting certified as a mortgage broker. Putting football upkeep on hold. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkVZzvXNGWysPGFHdPY5t2ie2Oq24SFBMqNBj4Kkxu43xlWUQLBvLHD4H99RinxZ9wttwzahgyF6eiCRGN1eml0SjCNKMTnpwyEH7XVEyoWix10rivfaNAiOnsjWCW6tAfTqsQhumWRIbvdINBjiCvJQdLIfaipc0hht2BnFChUT-JxYTFvyFtIczvQ/s1500/bip.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkVZzvXNGWysPGFHdPY5t2ie2Oq24SFBMqNBj4Kkxu43xlWUQLBvLHD4H99RinxZ9wttwzahgyF6eiCRGN1eml0SjCNKMTnpwyEH7XVEyoWix10rivfaNAiOnsjWCW6tAfTqsQhumWRIbvdINBjiCvJQdLIfaipc0hht2BnFChUT-JxYTFvyFtIczvQ/s320/bip.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>By midsummer, Colton's communication with the show about <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u> grew more frequent and detailed. At the end of July, Colton returned to L.A. to tape "<i><u>The Men Tell All</u></i>" episode for the show. Colton didn't know what formula production measured popularity by; but Colton wanted to use the platform to grow his. He had to find a way within the hourlong show to create some <u>positive</u> buzz. Colton traded on-liners with other fellows in the house. He also saw that fans were having fun with one another. Getting under one another's skin. Shots fired were cheap and reminded those in <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor Nation</u> that Colton was this good guy. A few weeks later, Becca presented her final rose to another. Henceforth, <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor-In-Paradise</u> began spicing up summers prime-time line-up. <u style="font-style: italic;">Paradise</u> may <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> have lived up to its name for Colton, but he enjoyed the <u>positive</u> notoriety that came with it. They were interested in this next chapter between Colton & Tia. When it turned out to be the last one, understanding that a relationship <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> be <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u>. Colton was even given props for <u>trying</u>. <u>Right</u> <u>after</u> the show, Scott called his son. By then, Colton had flown to L.A. several times to meet with producers in person about <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. He felt good about some of the meetings. The energy had a good rapport. Colton was excited and hopeful. One <u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u><b> </b><u>difference</u> was that Colton's virginity was <u>no</u> <u>longer</u> secret. . .<i style="font-weight: bold;">while others still remained</i>. Colton was asked if he was willing to experience a first time where/if he met the right "<i>person</i>" on the show. <u>Absolutely</u>. No question. Without A Doubt. The only issue was finding</span><span style="text-align: left;"> the "</span><i style="text-align: left;">right</i><span style="text-align: left;">" person.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFo-nCALXrHPhCU4OnoZkJYiC1rur_VvRY0YyJImGCVCODAYd3zUmCL7iewCB1IjHlNDBNm1qL9NsGzgxA7DBoOXR5yTXamPRipDcuFzCzjy4pqbZdw2Bsx_l--DYI8ChZJoIF4eRZkQySlEUM4VpY-tcp8CcBkkMPcbK5tX7k5MY6-_7M_LmNvKUCg/s1000/cu%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1000" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFo-nCALXrHPhCU4OnoZkJYiC1rur_VvRY0YyJImGCVCODAYd3zUmCL7iewCB1IjHlNDBNm1qL9NsGzgxA7DBoOXR5yTXamPRipDcuFzCzjy4pqbZdw2Bsx_l--DYI8ChZJoIF4eRZkQySlEUM4VpY-tcp8CcBkkMPcbK5tX7k5MY6-_7M_LmNvKUCg/s320/cu%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Without forgetting his somewhat original <u><b>undisclosed</b></u> notion, forget the perks and notoriety, Colton's intention was <u>genuine</u> and unchanged from the beginning. He did want to get married and have a family with the "<i>right</i>" person. If that did happen, Colton's wish was more of a <u style="font-style: italic;">Hail Mary</u>. Colton promised production he would lead with his heart and the rest would follow. Colton must've done something right. One question came up in the meeting. Was Colton willing to lose his virginity? If he met the "<i>right</i>" person and fell in love. He left the meeting confident that he had one thing in his favor to the other guys they didn't. Being the world's most famous virgin was must-see TV. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhcviODKqgY6W9XGZmvQh_4_8EsaZDEW4exQJWKlUqy0g3ABjen0a-8NES4035Cs_l7fh81j_Hk_unVPdmNWhoto9u_wMLwf0qs-GzcMJ_wNY7tC71hBVnRGqT6IagKqYswxR5595-hQCr8XmeMcfJk3Dpz8GkcugyoUj67FjQJNnjcvUpfSKXuKFQg/s600/metoo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhcviODKqgY6W9XGZmvQh_4_8EsaZDEW4exQJWKlUqy0g3ABjen0a-8NES4035Cs_l7fh81j_Hk_unVPdmNWhoto9u_wMLwf0qs-GzcMJ_wNY7tC71hBVnRGqT6IagKqYswxR5595-hQCr8XmeMcfJk3Dpz8GkcugyoUj67FjQJNnjcvUpfSKXuKFQg/w200-h200/metoo.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>As the decision-making ticked into its final moments, Colton <u>kept</u> thinking of reasons for producers to pick him. Colton thought his lack of experience might <u>prove</u> to be an <u>advantage</u> over the other guys. Even if their background checks were <u>spotless</u>, which they were, Colton was still the <u>safest</u> bet in an era of early <u style="font-style: italic;">#MeToo</u>. Other than one well-publicized romance, Colton spent <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> of his adolescence and early adulthood in his room, watching re-runs. <i style="font-weight: bold;">This is something Colton & I <u>both</u> have in common</i>: <b><i>We <u>both</u> <u>never</u> got to <u>appreciate</u> life's happiness and freedom to be who we are to get there</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdjAjVBpF98-ZIUJn_-L5grbg6-4CPQtlWUDzwsQKkR_XRiwmjrzWpDZLTtDS5K7aWs8_HA4zwrWsI4jU084R9UvySWtDMuQxmmw35T6cECscaGJU1R9JAXgHKCsYfHpkdt_Q-e4ynHIe9NlaOJfGUDNu5jhHo2FBA2bTkdRXv72TIJyV_0f6NIQtOQ/s555/gma.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="555" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdjAjVBpF98-ZIUJn_-L5grbg6-4CPQtlWUDzwsQKkR_XRiwmjrzWpDZLTtDS5K7aWs8_HA4zwrWsI4jU084R9UvySWtDMuQxmmw35T6cECscaGJU1R9JAXgHKCsYfHpkdt_Q-e4ynHIe9NlaOJfGUDNu5jhHo2FBA2bTkdRXv72TIJyV_0f6NIQtOQ/s320/gma.png" width="320" /></a></div>Before he began white-boarding <u style="font-style: italic;">March Madness</u> - like brackets, the wait </span><span style="text-align: left;">was over. It was a Monday morning, September 3RD. Colton was playing in a full-court basketball game, as he did 3x a week. A hustle game in the street. Midway through their game, his </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Apple</u><span style="text-align: left;"> watch pinged. It was an invoice of the show's producers addressed to Colton. They called and texted </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">really</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">wanting</u><span style="text-align: left;"> to talk to Colton. When he looked up, the ball came at him. Colton blocked the ball in palm, dribbled twice, and dropped from the right of the key and won his game. Colton grabbed his towel, took a swig of his water bottle and called his producer back. Congratulations! Did Colton want to be </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">The Bachelor</u><span style="text-align: left;">? </span><b style="text-align: left;"><u>HELL</u> <u>YES</u>!</b><span style="text-align: left;"> Let's Do It. </span><i style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">Mental checklist in motion</i><span style="text-align: left;">. There wasn't much advance warning. Making an announcement on </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">GMA</u><span style="text-align: left;">. </span><span style="text-align: left;"> It was like going 0-180 in 60 seconds. <b><u>NOTHING</u> <u>WOULD</u> <u>EVER</u> <u>BE</u> <u>THE</u> <u>SAME</u>!</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPtu19T4H_yTRyIzaPI_hGy_RP5aLWZFwb3KhV5RLEIF2MHN2hEGoCmK2M0TH34f_yf5Gy4_zId-oD-Nf1uLz4OJawt8xDLWeEQUJdg7AosEr0yCyPd-WnWUm6bUplI1qV7_gHyTe5w7MBGWBWEc8pX32wMp8W_gGlZlfnKLEb1tt4HjgWsb3jOaULQ/s3000/colton%20&%20mike.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2233" data-original-width="3000" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPtu19T4H_yTRyIzaPI_hGy_RP5aLWZFwb3KhV5RLEIF2MHN2hEGoCmK2M0TH34f_yf5Gy4_zId-oD-Nf1uLz4OJawt8xDLWeEQUJdg7AosEr0yCyPd-WnWUm6bUplI1qV7_gHyTe5w7MBGWBWEc8pX32wMp8W_gGlZlfnKLEb1tt4HjgWsb3jOaULQ/s320/colton%20&%20mike.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediately</u> went home to pack. Within the hour, Colton received congratulatory texts from other <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u> alum; as well as real good advice. Colton swore his family to secrecy for the next 24 hours. Only his mom experienced skepticism. Donna couldn't understand why her son would put himself through this a <u>3RD</u> time. At <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">J.F.K. International Airport</i> in New York, Colton was met with who would be his lead producer throughout the season. His mind was a blur as he checked a suite <u>near</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Times Square</u>. Colton should've gone to bed and slept; but he had too much adrenaline to sleep; so he checked his phone and found a text that said that Colton was going to be the next <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u>. Outside of the family, only a few knew. But, this inner world of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u> had a crazy pipeline for news/gossip. It was no different than the gossip columns. Similar to high school <u>bullshit</u>. The next morning, Colton was sipping his 2ND coffee in the morning. Before he knew it, Colton was answering questions opposite <u style="font-style: italic;">GMA</u> host; Michael Strahan; one of Colton's heroes when he was in high school. It was a lot to take in! </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rti2R8AWYdOEsBPuGq_57L9UCwhj-Fkx5UrD8V6aWvXH_nsILnCzBfv3R-zE-iGwQC9VmYIEPw4sh3uW-2L_gt__Bqo_RMi4n-F-Fj87kFDHbQgFFaVSQ8skzClGxiTENg23Hlq7q_ElbGvjaReIo5RSCzCv3sBGCIzB8qYfVurs0kOD9YMyzsfiwQ/s792/pb.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="792" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rti2R8AWYdOEsBPuGq_57L9UCwhj-Fkx5UrD8V6aWvXH_nsILnCzBfv3R-zE-iGwQC9VmYIEPw4sh3uW-2L_gt__Bqo_RMi4n-F-Fj87kFDHbQgFFaVSQ8skzClGxiTENg23Hlq7q_ElbGvjaReIo5RSCzCv3sBGCIzB8qYfVurs0kOD9YMyzsfiwQ/s320/pb.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Colton checked social media every spare minute he could. The passionate responses reminded Colton the show was <u>more</u> for the <b><u>FANS</u>!</b> <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor Nation</u>. In most ways, Colton was more like them. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">believed</u> in romance and love. Colton wanted his happily ever after. After the appearance on <u style="font-style: italic;">GMA</u> and interviews with dozens of other media outlets, Colton's phone <u>filled</u> up with calls and texts from friends, family and former classmates & teammates offering congratulations and encouragements. Colton was advised to keep a jar of peanut butter nearby for "HANGRY" moments. The last thing he did before his life <u>is</u> <u>irrevocably</u> altered was text his old producers with no response. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> for <u style="font-weight: bold;">fun</u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Here is to a hope for change</i>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">With only 2 1/2 weeks until his first rose ceremony, Colton went to work in his new role as soon as he was back in Denver. When Colton woke up that first morning, there was a camera crew waiting. His introductory video package was an exercise in production. <u style="font-style: italic;">A Day In The Life</u>. Shooting and bullshitting with his teammates on-camera. He was taking heat for being described in the media as a former <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. star. This time was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u>. This time Colton was center stage instead of left of center. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> help the language journalists/bloggers used when they wrote about him. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> called himself a star or anything that <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">wasn't</b> true. Colton did not play on the practice field for 3 teams. But, <u>that</u> made him an <u style="font-style: italic;">N.F.L</u>. player, an accomplishment Colton will <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> be proud of - and he has the scars on his shoulder to <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> it. Colton made one final trip to Denver to say his goodbyes to his family and went to bed early.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">supposed</u> to get on a flight the next morning at 6:30A. His car service pickup was at 4:30A. In the thrill of the excitement, Colton apparently didn't set his alarm correctly and missed <u>both</u> the car service and the plane. His eyes didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">open</u> until 6:30; therein which Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAULED</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ASS</u> to the airport, booked another flight while he was driving, parked his car, texted his dad to pick it up and finally texted his producer that he was going to be late. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">admit</u> he missed his flight. - His <u>first</u> and <u>early</u> flight Colton ever missed. Could only get better from here. They did! The next day, Colton showed up for 3 straight 10 hour days of wardrobe fittings. As Colton's fittings aligned, his head was focused on the hear/now. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">appreciated</u> for being <u>nice</u> and professional. The one who styled Colton had a vision for him that <u>mixed</u> seasonal, casual & sophisticated suits. Just the clothes <u>alone</u>, Colton thought he hit the good life.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">When Colton thought there couldn't be more, he was asked to order more. <u>Whatever</u> he was going to need. Colton can't emphasize <u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u> how <u>indulgent</u> it felt to be spoiled in this fashion. He brought <u>his</u> <u>own</u> clothes on <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u> and <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor-In-Paradise</u>. Now, he was given a wardrobe <u style="font-weight: bold;">teaming</u> with designers. It was quite a turnaround. But, wait there's more. Colton flashed a naughty smile and looked back. Two days later, as he walked through his hotel lobby after breakfast, Colton was intercepted by his producer. <u>Then</u>, it was time. Colton's phone was confiscated after he checked any last minute texts and looked over his social media one last time before relinquishing his phone for the next 3 months. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">OFFICIALLY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">cut</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">off</u> from the outside world. . .<i style="font-weight: bold;">for the first time</i>. Colton was now in <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEW</u> <u>reality</u>!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Like everyone, Colton has his issues. He <u>can</u> be <u style="font-style: italic;">anxious</u> and controlling. Colton worries and stresses about what he was doing with his life or not doing with it, as happened while Colton waited to hear whether he was going to be <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. Colton was there to find his person. While driving through the <u style="font-style: italic;">Malibu Canyon Coast</u>, Colton wanted to find someone to share a seat on the ride with; <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>unaware</u> of who it was going to be</i>. Colton drove to the hotel that would be his new home. The hotel had taken over 2 other adjacent rooms. One was his; the other for production and interviews. Colton's was the largest of the 3. A treadmill had been placed in the living room, as he requested, to workout. As time passed waiting, Colton had a mental <u style="font-weight: bold;">flood</u> of questions. <u style="font-weight: bold;">So</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> questions. When production came in the <u>morning</u>, Groggy-ass Colton <u>warned</u> them, he slept <u style="font-weight: bold;">naked</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">buff</u>. Enter at your own risk. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Once dressed & prepped, Colton tackled his first responsibility <u style="font-weight: bold;">officially</u> as <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>, an appearance on <u style="font-style: italic;">Ellen</u>. Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excited</u> to meet her. He watched her show in college when he couldn't fall asleep and became a major fan. <u>Ironically</u>, sitting across from her was a <u>perfect</u> way to begin a <u style="font-weight: bold;">lifelong</u> journey to <u>himself</u>. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfuQjCvzOiVm6kqNNNpkl3h92SWtXP1WqCpOhkR3cglFWthpflUrQXi0CX9T5tq1bbyIq8FprrmPSDGVnRHnZP_1y7WrDaQQrmwFQC5Cm0dKO2xurnQTNB6RHSQWLQ1ofgkzlr0cOoh8vLxFYznYly1NvllAMYA8j84fdfRvBAEkHYSRbbbZRBWm8yKA/s750/colton.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="750" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfuQjCvzOiVm6kqNNNpkl3h92SWtXP1WqCpOhkR3cglFWthpflUrQXi0CX9T5tq1bbyIq8FprrmPSDGVnRHnZP_1y7WrDaQQrmwFQC5Cm0dKO2xurnQTNB6RHSQWLQ1ofgkzlr0cOoh8vLxFYznYly1NvllAMYA8j84fdfRvBAEkHYSRbbbZRBWm8yKA/w400-h225/colton.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Like everyone,Colton had his issues. He </span><u style="text-align: left;">can</u><span style="text-align: left;"> be </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">anxious</u><span style="text-align: left;"> and controlling. Colton worries and stresses about what he was doing with his life or not, not doing anything with it, as happened while Colton waited to hear whether he was going to be </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">The Bachelor</u><span style="text-align: left;">. Colton was there to find his person. While arriving through the </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Malibu Canyon Coast</u><span style="text-align: left;">, Colton wanted to find someone to share a seat on the ride with; </span><i style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">unaware of who it was going to be</i><span style="text-align: left;">. Colton drove to the hotel that would be his new home. The hotel had taken over 2 other adjacent rooms. One was his; the other for production and interviews. Colton's was the largest of the 3. A treadmill had been placed in the living room, as per requested, to workout. As time passed waiting, Colton had a mental </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">flood</u><span style="text-align: left;"> of questions. </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">So</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">many</u><span style="text-align: left;"> questions. When production came in the </span><u style="text-align: left;">morning</u><span style="text-align: left;">, Groggy-ass Colton </span><u style="text-align: left;">warned</u><span style="text-align: left;"> them, he slept in the buff. Enter at your own risk!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_v3cH-OzvwNE_Nb4cX3V3ZnR59p2ZqJRVe9ugl0_sL87s3OiBF-EwHOAjY430PGe7KtG5CUeVfgBq-WbsFObsW4fV0OMC_Rh_K3BN8ONjL3TIOLS0pGI2vQ1cNec_kTsNgX2LheRQlrwleM9Fs7DJIgVRQrsTj3Z4bbKUAjSd-b8Tl_nkwS3LpaAZg/s1157/ellen.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="1157" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_v3cH-OzvwNE_Nb4cX3V3ZnR59p2ZqJRVe9ugl0_sL87s3OiBF-EwHOAjY430PGe7KtG5CUeVfgBq-WbsFObsW4fV0OMC_Rh_K3BN8ONjL3TIOLS0pGI2vQ1cNec_kTsNgX2LheRQlrwleM9Fs7DJIgVRQrsTj3Z4bbKUAjSd-b8Tl_nkwS3LpaAZg/w400-h217/ellen.webp" width="400" /></a></div>Once dressed and prepped, Colton tackled his first responsibility <u style="font-weight: bold;">officially</u> as <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>; an appearance on <u style="font-style: italic;">Ellen</u>. Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excited</u> to meet her. He watched her show in college when he couldn't fall asleep and become a major fan. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Ironically</u><i style="font-weight: bold;">, sitting across from her was a </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">perfect</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> way to begin a </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">lifelong</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> journey to </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">himself</u>. Colton enjoyed staring into Ellen's <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY</u><b> </b><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-weight: bold;"><u>BLUE</u> </span><span>eyes. They were bright. Colton <u>told</u> her he was looking for a future wife. After asking of his virginity status and small talk, Ellen had a surprise up her sleeve. <u>Classic</u> Ellen; and Colton was <b><u>COMPLETELY</u> </b> unprepared. Even though he suspected something, Colton's <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u> producer kept leaving his dressing room to speak with Ellen's producers. <u>Now</u>, he knew. 3 ladies were brought out to play Ellen's <u>notorious</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Know</u><i>-</i><u style="font-style: italic;">Or</u><i>-</i><u style="font-style: italic;">Go</u> game. At the end, one left standing was a young girl with features similar to Kate Hudson. All in fun promotion for <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u> and putting Colton out there. Before he knew it, Colton had <u style="font-weight: bold;">MORE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FUN</u> with Ellen and the show than he <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVER</u> thought. . . .<b><u>for</u> <u>now</u>!</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIQyhFlZrETH5Pw6ehixX_xWCVd3ty9bcdEOdcLc7I9QuR057BFwgug-a6yqZwv5MyrK7AraQQeJFzuatumvjwAW_CmnMCrHYtHuKwSef4j6EfXNTY2Ft9kXnzg5lh5gCZznNnnRPrUirbUs-aZLxvtE71tuf3eZJstClVyc4317kIJeFpQCEOTVqwg/s700/jimmy-kimmel-teaches-colton-underwood-birds-and-bees.webp" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="700" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIQyhFlZrETH5Pw6ehixX_xWCVd3ty9bcdEOdcLc7I9QuR057BFwgug-a6yqZwv5MyrK7AraQQeJFzuatumvjwAW_CmnMCrHYtHuKwSef4j6EfXNTY2Ft9kXnzg5lh5gCZznNnnRPrUirbUs-aZLxvtE71tuf3eZJstClVyc4317kIJeFpQCEOTVqwg/s320/jimmy-kimmel-teaches-colton-underwood-birds-and-bees.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Jimmy</td></tr></tbody></table>In his first 24 hours of life as a <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u>, Colton shot promotional video with Jimmy Kimmel, who before heading off to his own busy workday, wished Colton luck stating fear of irony if Colton gave Jimmy a rose. Then, he was headed off to a photoshoot with Chris Harrison. Giving Colton some advice and point beforehand. <u>Solid</u>, practical advice from the man who keeps everyone in line. The next day, Colton went to the mansion for his sit-and-chat interview with him. It was the last piece of Colton's introduction package, and he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it would set the tone for his season. It was Colton's opportunity to acknowledge <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> that he wasn't everyone's first choice, but he still wanted to make the <b><u>best</u></b> of it. Chris gave Colton some softball questions and allowed him to speak <u>directly</u> to fans in a way that he hoped endured Colton to them. But, Colton learned <u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ago</u> in his football career, writers don't change opinions, no matter what you say. Some ladies were humorous; some were down to the point. One of the ladies veered off course and wasn't sufficiently pleased with Colton's answers and expressed concern for his mental health. It wasn't what was said; it was the <u>tone</u> in which it was said. Colton felt mocked for it. Mocked for his <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuine</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sincerity</u>. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYc3R3OG2gIwKNs8Fnli3lNYVGAWQ78X6VgdnsJgkXeWK0Qrktq0n4nUCyBIv7qfcSVfl-yIwocULsy1Y8anfyZg8qW7ZPiGUjkWYhmMZNV_gL5KpoM66jMlaoYzipyJkNBb5L6A5lApRhtWXMckMPbEWcmUpEKxqv5SRJwsaNV9sXceUMUmtQNa9org/s1020/whiskey604445766.skrewball.lockups-12-1020x592.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="1020" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYc3R3OG2gIwKNs8Fnli3lNYVGAWQ78X6VgdnsJgkXeWK0Qrktq0n4nUCyBIv7qfcSVfl-yIwocULsy1Y8anfyZg8qW7ZPiGUjkWYhmMZNV_gL5KpoM66jMlaoYzipyJkNBb5L6A5lApRhtWXMckMPbEWcmUpEKxqv5SRJwsaNV9sXceUMUmtQNa9org/s320/whiskey604445766.skrewball.lockups-12-1020x592.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Colton gave a <u>look</u> at the show's publicist for a <u>quick</u> exit. After he was free from the publicists grip, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">pissed</u> wondering why the fuck he was put in this position? After confessing that he seen a therapist, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> he was being made fun of or wasn't taken seriously. <i style="font-weight: bold;">It <u>hurts</u> when you're made fun of for your <u>genuine</u> sincerity</i>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">requested</u> that the show have a therapist on-site. He began seeing a therapist for the <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Oakland Raiders</i>. Colton was still and <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">is</u> an advocate of paying <u>attention</u> to mental health issues, including his own. Colton may not be 100%, but he is a work-in-process. As he stated, you don't have to be a perfect person to deserve love. You don't have to be the perfect person to put yourself out there. It's okay to not be perfect. Colton went back to the hotel and changed clothes for the nighttime taping. It allowed him to calm down. Everyone was calm when they were wrapped for the night by doing shots of <u style="font-style: italic;">Skrewball</u> whiskey ending on a good high note. Since it was a <u>long</u> night, Colton was reminded to stay up as late as possible and sleep in. Reset his inner clock. With his mental state, it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">problem</u>. Dozing off a little after 3:00A. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywX1Kb02ss7tY1SQpG0t_rorkdTDBquVvPKGiedrWbBW2S6QqLZFZgndgqYp9smFRK0N4866ps9ZOyRz5giItN3-Bbo2WwVmFjwhRS4AFFu4AJq4jnV3h5iegx7lCRrn1H5lL117ghhfiadonNszGiagUEShbUDe_a93ciGwGVJJmDXqX2NVyUcXxbA/s727/poem.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="727" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywX1Kb02ss7tY1SQpG0t_rorkdTDBquVvPKGiedrWbBW2S6QqLZFZgndgqYp9smFRK0N4866ps9ZOyRz5giItN3-Bbo2WwVmFjwhRS4AFFu4AJq4jnV3h5iegx7lCRrn1H5lL117ghhfiadonNszGiagUEShbUDe_a93ciGwGVJJmDXqX2NVyUcXxbA/w320-h280/poem.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Colton began to journal from one Scott had given him to document his journey. Colton <u>remembered</u> what Scott said and asked him not to read it until the first night. Colton woke up later in the day, between 1:00-2:00p. A few hours later, Colton took a power nap, ran on the treadmill for an hour, showered and got himself <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">READY</b>! His wardrobe was <u>equal</u> to or if not more than months of rent back home. It was stupid as all get out and Colton <u>loved</u> it. Off he went with Chris Harrison to see what happens next. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span>The first thing to happen was wisecrack commentary from the ladies regarding Colton's virginity. Various ladies gave introductory pick-up lines; sidelined with jokes and sexual innuendos everywhere. Colton expected the jokes about his virginity; but some became <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> which were <u style="font-weight: bold;">annoying</u> close to crossing the line. Colton did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> want the theme of the show about getting him laid. But, he also didn't want a bored audience. Colton wanted to <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>keep</u> <u>the</u> <u>focus</u> on his <u>MENTAL</u> mission of <u>finding</u> his <u>TRUE</u> self at hand</i>. Another issue Colton had at hand that he kept to <u style="font-weight: bold;">himself</u> or tried until it became apparent later was that Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> remember everyone's name. In football, the players had their names stitched onto their uniform. You didn't have to think about it. Then, he met someone who had her own name-tag. Caelyn Miller-Keyes. Hannah B. (Hannah Brown) both had a <i>sparkle</i> and smile that made Colton eager for upcoming sit-downs. If things worked out, they were going to have some heated Saturdays. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span>Cassie Randolf handed Colton a box and said that she had butterflies; <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> she was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u>. Then she spilled a box of fake ones in front of him. Colton pocketed one. He couldn't help but stare at her <u>shoes</u>/<u>high</u> <u>heels</u>. Heels with a Velcro strap and red bottoms that seemed <u>practical</u>. She wasn't spending a month's salary on them. <u>That</u> is what Colton liked about her. Practicality. Colton received a second box from Hannah Godwin (<i>Hannah G.</i>) who explained the empty box in her hand contained his favorite underwear. A nod to him sleeping <u>nude</u>. She made a good impression. Multiple gimmicks flowed through the night. Colton was also spoken to be in various fluent languages. After <u>4</u> <u>hours</u> of introductions came in the mix and mingled at the mansion. Colton lost track with <u style="font-weight: bold;">how</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> energy drinks he'd gulped down; but it was <u>clearly</u> enough to get the party started. Colton had <u>4</u> main objectives for his one-on-one time with the ladies; <i style="font-weight: bold;">was this what he wanted</i>, made eye contact, laughed when appropriate and <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRY</u> to remember everyone's names. Colton <u>remembers</u> previous ladies from previous seasons and their mistakes. Apparently, Colton was <u>no</u> <u>better</u>. Of all people, it was Cassie who <u>busted</u> Colton. They were walking past each other when Cassie stopped and asked if Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> remembered her name. It was a sly move; but typical Colton. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">admittedly</u> and embarrassingly didn't remember her name. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">like</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hell</u> to remember every lady's name; which he <u>eventually</u> did. <u>Admitting</u> his forgetfulness was rude. He admitted that. Hard to remember the names of 30 ladies you <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">met</u>. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZ3DBfTqg9SrRZxYWFrjKFuu2xTyRWskF0tx7YT0Y8IF3pPvWb66OMm8AFDL82Q9eiWN49LNTsD-nvIxnSVZlo5cLnZAi7HzceOdXQcDfIQ2ugjxH73ocxZtQaBLGR9NZOzJTeb4AecjnIbHavyN65WWtY2PsCpmxwViPk4JPxzJPobdTQjz1gk0NUA/s1600/colton%20and%20cassie.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1592" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZ3DBfTqg9SrRZxYWFrjKFuu2xTyRWskF0tx7YT0Y8IF3pPvWb66OMm8AFDL82Q9eiWN49LNTsD-nvIxnSVZlo5cLnZAi7HzceOdXQcDfIQ2ugjxH73ocxZtQaBLGR9NZOzJTeb4AecjnIbHavyN65WWtY2PsCpmxwViPk4JPxzJPobdTQjz1gk0NUA/s320/colton%20and%20cassie.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Cassie Randolph</td></tr></tbody></table>After every few girls, Colton was yanked into a nearby room for an interview with one of his producers. It was hard to answer questions being directed towards him. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">soon</u> to think of anything more. Even on sensory (<i>and cocktail party conversation</i>) overload, a few details <u>stood</u> <u>out</u>. But, it was Cassie that was content to hang back and observe the other ladies as they vied for his attention. In their one-on-one, Colton was asked of her intentions, which were <b><u>truly</u> </b><u>pure</u>. More would come out later on. Cass was smart and <u>careful</u> in her words. It was all good. At nearly 5:00A, Colton gave out the night's first big prize; the first impression rose. <u>Initially</u>, he wanted to give it to Caelynn. They had a good follow-up with a good connection right away; especially with their first kiss. However, first impressions are measured. Colton didn't see things getting any better with her. Looking back, Colton wondered if a football player giving a rose to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Miss USA 2018</u> runner-up was cliche for the opening. Colton <u>does</u> intend to <u style="font-weight: bold;">overthink</u> situations at times, <i style="font-weight: bold;">as do I </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">personally</u>, and this was one of those moments. After some <u>internal</u> deliberations, Colton desired to make the season premiere the best ever by playing it <u>safe</u>.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUf_KSLjDhPwiDXTzwM2wlVL0wehcnW7Q_QChuZOAKY-v6D9FWWqKq2kgxP1M7ToX2Nf1d-CORsHqKmuUSXo-gdpx4UQ9eXoKcrQOboq6FHe97engR40yTdnffblnT5ogJFLKLrF6Iw-USAy0TIlRvNza4howOyq8M88PAEHf8S0vtgF5Zh9cT8pNZig/s1676/Colorado_Bachelor_star_Colton_Underwood_comes_out_as_gay_1.webp" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1361" data-original-width="1676" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUf_KSLjDhPwiDXTzwM2wlVL0wehcnW7Q_QChuZOAKY-v6D9FWWqKq2kgxP1M7ToX2Nf1d-CORsHqKmuUSXo-gdpx4UQ9eXoKcrQOboq6FHe97engR40yTdnffblnT5ogJFLKLrF6Iw-USAy0TIlRvNza4howOyq8M88PAEHf8S0vtgF5Zh9cT8pNZig/s320/Colorado_Bachelor_star_Colton_Underwood_comes_out_as_gay_1.webp" width="320" /></a></div>Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u> as <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hell</u>. He had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">trust</u> the process. These ladies had an intent as well as Colton; <b><i>aside from running and <u>hiding</u></i></b>, an intent on engagement and marriage. Out of 30 contestants, 5-or-6 were picked <u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u> him. The rest were strong, colorful personalities with a wild card. Colton wanted more <u>connection</u> with people than just appearances. The producers liked some of the ladies and advised Colton not to judge so harshly. The <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">irony</u> was that these ladies were trying to prove themselves as Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">proving</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">something</u> to himself <u style="font-weight: bold;">privately</u>. Some ladies annoyed him, but what if Colton was missing out. Looking back, Colton felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">horribly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">bad</u> for judging without knowing. In <u style="font-weight: bold;">real</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">true</u> life, if Colton meets <u style="font-style: italic;">someone</u> new and it's <u style="font-weight: bold;">off</u> for <u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">reason</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">or</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">another</u>; Colton will turn & leave. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u> send them away; only <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u> does that one. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">job</u>. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> personal. There <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u> time to connect, so why waste anyone's time? Colton <u>wasn't</u> going to do that. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span>T</span></span><span style="text-align: left;">he morning sun was already up when the last roses were handed out. Colton's body was <u style="font-weight: bold;">DONE</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">spent</u> from this marathon. Everyone else was dragging ass. Colton tried <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to overthink the decisions he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> make or <u style="font-weight: bold;">regret</u> the ones he did. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Take it from Colton</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>regret</u> is a powerful sword you have to live with hurting himself in the process</i>. As Colton poured sweetness in a cup of coffee, a producer asked how he was doing. <u>Surprising</u> it <u>wasn't</u> evident. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">worn</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">exhausted</u> & the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tired</u> he'd been in his life. . . Thus far. Colton <u>still</u> felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">lucky</u> he could <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONESTLY</u> believe this was happening. . . To him.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRor715puvxTt4v9N1Wfb4F1_eF2p151z076a19pNkNWccNhr1H6pUkp8fxgA5E39loqX7S1IOqXnyprnr7jTE3LbvZwFNoJlHXa4FZm_OvbKDdznGmuXBogW_B0dy5i4972Mhx1Jgd5pZnFhdWsAcvCCmP_Ed7cVyf8TGSos6ggPIAPeJwTVxV5gjw/s876/diney.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="876" data-original-width="605" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkRor715puvxTt4v9N1Wfb4F1_eF2p151z076a19pNkNWccNhr1H6pUkp8fxgA5E39loqX7S1IOqXnyprnr7jTE3LbvZwFNoJlHXa4FZm_OvbKDdznGmuXBogW_B0dy5i4972Mhx1Jgd5pZnFhdWsAcvCCmP_Ed7cVyf8TGSos6ggPIAPeJwTVxV5gjw/w276-h400/diney.webp" width="276" /></a></div>Colton describes himself as a <u style="font-style: italic;">Disney</u> kid at heart (<i style="font-weight: bold;">Something Colton & I <u>mutually</u> have in common</i>.) The interviews on the show were <u>constant</u>. Interruptions were non-stop. Just when Colton would get into a rhythm, he was taken off the field. The <u>entire</u> crew, of 80 people, were in on it. He was given a prompt to wing it. Colton, on the advice of former contestants, were advised to load up on water, which meant what goes in. .. must come out; which was a cause of constant breaks. Colton would give out codes to reference to production that he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">STARVING</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u> to eat, but wasn't and didn't want to be difficult to others. It didn't happen often. But, over 3 months people get <b><u>HANGRY</u>!</b> At the end of <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> night, in Colton's hotel room, he would take a handful of <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> breaths, clear his head, open his heart and <u>mentally</u> weighed the day. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Taking</u> in the quiet time for an opportunity to <u style="font-weight: bold;">process</u>. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKNr0I2m9RprDspOR6wrnekBPmPpvljWIffPiG56E4R-aLsKq-F7bcj4lDP1XgHhTjfne8iFqGYi4gM22_Cl7_2vWvXd02McSn2G9Ja28QLjBN7ze2tIzF94kRpdt-N-iJvXpqk-hVFHOSxdjgJRFBnxFXc2nZ2P3sbZAMWlX4Ak6Zy6Z4_0WJAIAQw/s384/ferris.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="254" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKNr0I2m9RprDspOR6wrnekBPmPpvljWIffPiG56E4R-aLsKq-F7bcj4lDP1XgHhTjfne8iFqGYi4gM22_Cl7_2vWvXd02McSn2G9Ja28QLjBN7ze2tIzF94kRpdt-N-iJvXpqk-hVFHOSxdjgJRFBnxFXc2nZ2P3sbZAMWlX4Ak6Zy6Z4_0WJAIAQw/s320/ferris.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Love is many things, including that mysterious way people react when there is chemistry. You <u style="font-weight: bold;">can't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">thinking</u> about someone. You <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">can't</u>! <i style="font-weight: bold;">Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around every once in a while</i><b>; </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">you could miss it</i>. - Ferris Bueller. So, here was Colton. Colton had a mental note to relay his favorites to his producers the next morning, as would be Colton's routine to the end of production. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Colton dubbed his producers; Nancy, Eileen & Penny, </span><u style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;">Colton's Angels</u><span style="text-align: left;">. They were his pillars throughout the season: </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">being</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">there</u><span style="text-align: left;"> when he </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">needed</u><span style="text-align: left;"> them, offering assistance even when Colton had things under control. A </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">BIG</u><b style="text-align: left;"> </b><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">lesson</u><span style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Colton took away was that </span><i style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">not <u>everything</u> is <u>always</u> handled</i><b style="text-align: left;">. </b><i style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">Never ignore a well-meaning woman's advice</i><span style="text-align: left;">. They </span><u style="text-align: left;">complimented</u><span style="text-align: left;"> each other's company. Colton felt like the host of a big party and they were</span><span style="text-align: left;"> pleased. They reviewed the schedule for the rest of the week, which was crazy busy and <u>included</u> his <u>first</u> one-on-one date with Hannah B. put a smile on Colton's face.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Cp7lonLNvORwhJn2F-xN2XcYML_3KC5_tapOETZ-VvKavXSO7RAUKvsxtJqvLq581X0K1cwAui5_SMUvxmF0AHZB3ZCYE7iaXev9AgyUa4IC-Xe8w8-bij5pTLUCLRPbSwVEKCLNh5fBwGqeYBnhpHiewZMEBBjPNjefUJTuq-XSQKANlGiTItbtKw/s1280/150387_3249.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1280" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Cp7lonLNvORwhJn2F-xN2XcYML_3KC5_tapOETZ-VvKavXSO7RAUKvsxtJqvLq581X0K1cwAui5_SMUvxmF0AHZB3ZCYE7iaXev9AgyUa4IC-Xe8w8-bij5pTLUCLRPbSwVEKCLNh5fBwGqeYBnhpHiewZMEBBjPNjefUJTuq-XSQKANlGiTItbtKw/w320-h256/150387_3249.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick, Megan & Colton</td></tr></tbody></table>On a night out of group dates, it was a trip to the theater where married actors Megan Mullally & Nick Offerman would headline a night of telling stories about their "</span><i style="text-align: left;">firsts</i><span style="text-align: left;">". Each person </span><u style="font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">knew</u><span style="text-align: left;"> what it meant. For Colton, he rolled his eyes. It was the elephant in the room. Colton could hear Chris in his head telling him to pick his battles. Colton was grumpy, but agreeable. He did his part the next day at the theater. Colton was <b><u>asked</u> <u>to</u> </b> give risque stories of their first sexual experiences. Colton had to bullshit his way with the First Comes Love...scenario and recalled a moment in football with the <u style="font-style: italic;">San Diego Chargers</u> revealing his sexual past/virginity. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Glad</u> to have the conversation over. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">During the moment on the "date" with Hannah, <i style="font-weight: bold;">outside of the <u>deeply</u> hidden</i>, Colton wondered if this was <u style="font-weight: bold;">similar</u> to what he missed in high school by not being dateable? <b><i>Not so much be <u>OUT</u>, but being dateable</i>?</b> On the date with Hannah, it was her birthday. Colton wanted her to have a good time. He tried to give a toast in the hot tub. Her eyes filled with fear. She froze and went <u>blank</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> bad for and tried to help. Advising her to <u>just</u> <u>talk</u> to him. Hannah feared how she came across on-camera. She paid attention to her surroundings rather than enjoying herself. Hannah was overwhelmed by all of it until she was paralyzed and had to take a moment. Hannah did ask about Colton's decision to remain a virgin and followed up by asking him of his relationship with Aly. Hannah had done her homework. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> wrong with asking. But, with cameras and mic's., Colton felt put on. Colton explained that the producers and he had <u>agreed</u> to keep the mention of Hannah off-limits. Colton liked Hannah. But, in her I-T-M (<i>In-The-Moment</i>) interviews, Colton said that Hannah to be <u>open</u> to talk . .not amped by production. Colton didn't appreciate the coaching. In pageantry, you're coached. Colton wanted the ladies to be <b><u>REAL</u>!</b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeLtet8fhS8OjqoALtoiN8kAsrCwl5ZpTWaFydw4aaJLGMx8GsYa9CA9JtkD2Pg3pqrLcTz7yiSpI9zC0_R9kvs2uDNXcYy85M9CNBuwtGlP-nAS1dr3tpwJL-DaVYXOSXeeKNprA5veVE-MXxYSE0kBiHp51bfqEgpSwOfSk8zmoXe4WkxWcGF8ZWg/s1200/cb.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeLtet8fhS8OjqoALtoiN8kAsrCwl5ZpTWaFydw4aaJLGMx8GsYa9CA9JtkD2Pg3pqrLcTz7yiSpI9zC0_R9kvs2uDNXcYy85M9CNBuwtGlP-nAS1dr3tpwJL-DaVYXOSXeeKNprA5veVE-MXxYSE0kBiHp51bfqEgpSwOfSk8zmoXe4WkxWcGF8ZWg/s320/cb.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Billy</td></tr></tbody></table>For the week's second group date, it was a day of games and competition. Comedian Billy Eichner was called in to provide commentary. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Ironic</i><b>! . . <i>Considering</i></b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> what follows through later when Colton goes through a <u>difficult</u> and <u>different</u> journey</i><i>. </i>This activity was more of Colton's speed than a night of embarrassing confessions at the theater. During a break in the action, one of Colton's producers walked over with one of Cassie's for a private conversation. Colton liked Cassie's <u>confidence</u>; although she didn't like how she, herself, came across. <u>Clearing</u> <u>the</u> <u>air</u> of any awkwardness. <b><i>Ironic</i>, <i>I know</i>!</b> Colton was delighted to get to know her and see that she grew more comfortable as they spoke. Getting to know each other on a <u style="font-weight: bold;">SURFACE</u> level. Colton <u>wanted</u> to kiss her, but they were pulled away before Colton had <u style="font-style: italic;">that</u> courage. Probably for the better. Colton kept an eye on the rest of the afternoon as the ladies competed in <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u> events. It gave Colton time with Cassie, who had turned out, had a kiss on her mind as well. Later that night, as they sat around the campfire, Cassie orchestrated games for the 2 of them to play where Colton was to be prized with a kiss. But, he screwed it up. Let's just say, they no longer what came first; the kiss or the egg.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton was <i style="font-weight: bold;">still paddling the waters and still in a confusing limbo</i>. He was fine with kissing multiple ladies. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he was on <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelorette</u>. Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u> with riddled <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiety</u>. He sat up questioning himself with the ladies. Would he be making decisions due to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">pressure</u> of being in a TV show and pleasing people? Was Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">GENUINE</u>? He had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOT</u> to figure out for <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>what</u> he wanted</i>. <i><b><u>On</u> <u>His</u> <u>Own</u></b></i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Midway through the 3RD week, competition between ladies <u>became</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">fierce</u>. Caeylynn and Hannah went to Colton talking smack between the 2 of them. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HATED</u> it. A tasteless joke related to one's family member that Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> repeating. The tension on the show together opened old wounds and cast a dark cloud over the week. Colton's team picked up on his disappointments and it <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">improve</u> the week's events. When production wanted Colton to be more affectionate with P.D.A.; he resisted! This made Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">uncomfortable</u>. <u>One</u> being the cameras. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Others to be explained in <u>due</u> time</i>. But, Colton seeing Becca kiss other gents on the show; being in that position, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> want that feeling for the ladies since he'd been there. It's hard to show emotion when there wasn't any. <u style="font-weight: bold;">At</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>, Colton was impatient and frustrated by not getting time with his favorites; like Hannah G. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">At</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">time</u>, Colton was ready to fall in love. He pressed his team for answers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9-Jx-3CdIa22IIS7LKw-9UIeaLfvE8bFRd4Q7HyWpdq5-gPi9e3DQbmSffUF72xUyhGUzMzHdKFj9J4d6lpbQDGN3Ebl3NhTYLn_1uI0EK0ALw90bkEA85FiqnkawTqoarXGkggraWbSHd0pP6vfeQSghK6PYDwKVOSED-VFjK-FiyNGfviUEwce6Q/s1380/ring.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="941" data-original-width="1380" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9-Jx-3CdIa22IIS7LKw-9UIeaLfvE8bFRd4Q7HyWpdq5-gPi9e3DQbmSffUF72xUyhGUzMzHdKFj9J4d6lpbQDGN3Ebl3NhTYLn_1uI0EK0ALw90bkEA85FiqnkawTqoarXGkggraWbSHd0pP6vfeQSghK6PYDwKVOSED-VFjK-FiyNGfviUEwce6Q/s320/ring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It was only week 3 and Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> to come off like a diva; but he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">direct</u> and tried not to waste time when there was a problem. Colton <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he caught feelings for one lady; but production stirred him to another direction. Colton thought Cassie was cool. <b><u>PERIOD</u>!</b> He waned one-on-one time with all of the ladies; but like the song says, <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">You</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">can't</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">always</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">get</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">what</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">you</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">want</u><i style="font-weight: bold;">. </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">You</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">get</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">what</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">you</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">need</u><span>. On a group date for the second time, one of the ladies, a professional dancer, <u>made</u> <u>a</u> <u>point</u> of showing how flexible she was just to piss off Cassie. Everyone was on a high at the cocktail party that night. When Colton had a one-on-one with Cassie, as they talked and kissed , he fidgeted with one of her rings; tugging and spinning it. Once Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> what he was doing, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> the ring had Jeremiah 29:11 engraved on it. A bible verse that Colton tries to live by. <u>Perfect</u> for the <u>moment</u> at hand. Back at the mansion, they chilled out with a pool party prior to the ceremony. After the drama-fulled pool party between ladies, Cassie suggested they play <u style="font-style: italic;">Two Truths And A Lie</u>. An entertaining way for them to learn of one another. Cassie also loved games. She was great to them. The games themselves. Colton ran into Caelynn and saw she was still upset. Colton <u>tried</u> to settle any concern she had and told her to be brave. While Caelynn tried to talk about <u>her</u> past; Colton, in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">comforting</u> tone to discuss later; assuring her she was still to be around awhile. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> 1-or-2 conversations <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u> going to solve everyone's problems. But, in a change of scenery was good for <u>everyone</u>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wait</u> or contain his excitement for the show traveling to Singapore; along with the accompaniment in tow. The <u>best</u> part, Colton didn't have to pack. The show would do it for him. A time of his life that was to get better. . . . <b><u>RIGHT</u> <u>NOW</u>!</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6VUGkCxGwnSPcVUiXKK_DKV0XBkAFkmUJy9v9DW74UeKgsKZjyz_x7Rky0-dTukmE8BEYtY-U8529oKce1vZBQxhJSmzGWExBA_4aBjBKZMymVo-phuz_wxEZ8hXyTpHfwgJt5ti6u6MCgX9iOVqSmbMgjySAthyMKpq60TQ3Xk1cPX4gwfDVKItbg/s300/colton%20&%20tayshia.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6VUGkCxGwnSPcVUiXKK_DKV0XBkAFkmUJy9v9DW74UeKgsKZjyz_x7Rky0-dTukmE8BEYtY-U8529oKce1vZBQxhJSmzGWExBA_4aBjBKZMymVo-phuz_wxEZ8hXyTpHfwgJt5ti6u6MCgX9iOVqSmbMgjySAthyMKpq60TQ3Xk1cPX4gwfDVKItbg/s1600/colton%20&%20tayshia.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Tayshia</td></tr></tbody></table>The first thing Colton saw as they approached Singapore was the flight attendant. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">surprised</u>. The attendants have <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> seen anyone sleep <u>15</u> hours before. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">WORN</u><b>. </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WIPED</u><b>. </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EXHAUSTED</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Coming</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">DOWN</u> from the show. <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXTREME</u> fatigue was <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessary</u> by-product of the show. After he landed, Colton guzzled energy drinks to battle jet-lag. He was in awe. He didn't want to miss <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. Colton's first solo date was with Tayshia Adams; someone that intrigued him. A wild card phlebotomist from Corona Del Mar, CA. They hadn't talked as <u>extensively</u> as he had with other ladies, but Colton had taken <u>note</u> of her the past few weeks. He could tell that Tayshia had a strong sense of faith and commitment to helping people. Colton was privy to her sense of humor and her attitude toward having fun. He knows they would be friends.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span>Although Colton <u>expressed</u> great enthusiasm in <u>front</u> of the cameras for bungee-jumping; he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HATES</u> heights. Colton gets queasy looking down from the second story of the shopping mall. Tayshia abhorred the sensation of falling. A <u>perfect</u> match for the moment. Colton didn't know about Tayshia. . .but he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">guaranteed</u> to freak out. The mission of the date and succession for the show was confronting your fears and going for it. Plenty of puns galore along the way. At dinner in a fancy restaurant atop a towering hotel where they had a windowing table with a heartbreaking view of the city. Colton asked and <u style="font-weight: bold;">kept</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">focus</u> on her. <u>But</u>, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he was falling in love with Cassie. He sensed it during their group date with him and 13 remaining ladies. They engaged in local customs, like leech therapy in outdoor markets and sampled food. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> this segment received criticism for promoting stereotypes. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">respected</u> the opinions and hoped the <u>overall</u> intentions came through. Hoping that it shined through.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cassie & Colton visited a fortune teller who said they had been brother/sister in a previous life. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Which speaks </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">LOUD</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">volumes</i>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">quickly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dismissed</u> any mental languishes. Ending the evening as fairly <u>GOOD</u>! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Whenever Colton was around Cassie, he <u style="font-weight: bold;"><i>thought</i></u> he wanted to try to get close to her and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he liked her <u>very</u> much. Trying to keep things <u>subtle</u>. Colton did the same thing with Hannah G.; but wanted to send the same message to Cassie. Colton was a busy boy. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Aside from harbored buried emotions</i>. Colton knew their destination was Thailand and wanted to continue efforts to prepare for a one-on-one. They had an amazing time together. Alone and sipping white wine, Colton & Cassie laughed again about being brother/sister in a past life. He called it game over when Colton mentioned something about it. <u>DAMN</u>! That night, Colton had his first <u>solid</u>, uninterrupted sleep of the trip and felt <u>fresh</u> and "<i>normal</i>" when he woke up. All of the jet lag was <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> behind him. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">READY</u> for his 2ND one-on-one date of the trip; this time with Caelynn, one of Colton's favorites. Given what she'd statrted to tell him back in the States about having been sexually assaulted in college, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> this was going to be an <u>emotional</u> date.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr23jAaR9sbZH8GPTFFKW68PHeebpQSviXZcaay00-QAuFivse2xp_i4TKmfz8eUe2zFAhb_UNKe_IQJCcf316U5u5Qs5YqIqR7tbjroXa3HKTAYzBKxY1Y_PnAo7mZDUJmm-6yqDGBby6KMES0znJLFILKI3Orh9en5xuMzNtQ1_1vrSraj-NOkajWA/s1000/RAIN-Logo-2.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="1000" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr23jAaR9sbZH8GPTFFKW68PHeebpQSviXZcaay00-QAuFivse2xp_i4TKmfz8eUe2zFAhb_UNKe_IQJCcf316U5u5Qs5YqIqR7tbjroXa3HKTAYzBKxY1Y_PnAo7mZDUJmm-6yqDGBby6KMES0znJLFILKI3Orh9en5xuMzNtQ1_1vrSraj-NOkajWA/w200-h177/RAIN-Logo-2.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>Colton began to <u style="font-weight: bold;">DETAIL</u> the moments of the episode and production notes. Colton <b><u>assured</u> <u>pure</u> </b><u>safety</u> to the ladies in <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> way he could. When the episode aired a few months later, the network provided resources for <u style="font-style: italic;">RAINN</u>. Aly praised her too. All you can do is be there and listen. Offer support. Respect what they need to go through to heal. Caelynn's confession seemed to have a <u>cleansing</u> effect on everyone. Colton was happy with the way things were turning out. Later that night in his hotel room, Colton felt and wondered if this was GOD answering his prayers <b><i>for a completely different outcome</i>? </b>Life is certainly funny and even more unpredictable.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As Colton woke up the next morning in Thailand, drinking coffee and looking out at the water, he couldn't help but think about Cassie. He couldn't wait to see her. The one you never thought you wanted was all you ever wanted was all you ever needed. Colton liked visiting the other ladies, <i style="font-weight: bold;">as per the job of </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Bachelor</u>, but it was becoming <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> than that. He did <u>care</u> about Cassie. He cared about Hannah G. from the beginning; but more <u>doubts</u> aligned that became challenging. Do you want someone who makes you feel at home or someone who challenges you? Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HATED</u> to be cynical, but he knew what was going to happen when he dug into the histories of what the ladies hometown families would say. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Colton might've been the only one with doubts</i>. Don't forget the other ladies had a hand in getting something out of this. A perfect set-up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRo0fWBg7q3-Q7g0U8nyEna9OmHEB7FgGY44JMwfRajG5yLg38xw92P0Us3BtBi3etevRD01lqJQno0Y1oSgHnCa4dbt_hJoSi3HMIjzH4I8CrFj1qteFuvWtCyjShJyzLCw9KMElUUiC_AJdp9ouMRuQsUI5HJDTCRfPRngLVwB9nKcTF-Ex8o_89MQ/s3840/ng.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRo0fWBg7q3-Q7g0U8nyEna9OmHEB7FgGY44JMwfRajG5yLg38xw92P0Us3BtBi3etevRD01lqJQno0Y1oSgHnCa4dbt_hJoSi3HMIjzH4I8CrFj1qteFuvWtCyjShJyzLCw9KMElUUiC_AJdp9ouMRuQsUI5HJDTCRfPRngLVwB9nKcTF-Ex8o_89MQ/s320/ng.png" width="320" /></a></div>The next group date involved a trip to the jungle, where they ate weird food, touched snakes, spiders, eels and other <u style="font-style: italic;">National Geographic</u> images learning survival skills. Hannah B. confessed that she was falling in love with him . . .but it <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terrified</u> Colton. As much as he <u>liked</u> Hannah B., Colton thought she began and started using the L-Word <u style="font-weight: bold;">barely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> him. Colton wasn't ready to send her home; but yet he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> she wasn't the one. An ongoing loop in Colton's brain <u style="font-weight: bold;">weighed</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">heavy</u> on him, <i style="font-weight: bold;">along with what he was emotionally withholding in his heart</i>. Hannah B. felt she was falling in love with him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u> was a holy shit moment, where Colton suddenly felt like enormity and <u style="font-weight: bold;">seriousness</u> of holding people's hearts in his hand. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEAVY</u> responsibility. Only one person didn't cause him to question or doubt himself and Colton finally had a one-on-one date with Cassie the next day. Colton <u>showed</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediate</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">gratitude</u> to production. <u>Whatever</u> Cassie was up for outdoors, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">READY</u> and up for it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBO_s4Kq_2gcsD3167_citGhM4YShqqi2Kl_1SWt9iMa47FtaW55qglD96XguFyn6qWsybjl9NR6nab1o34k2kkBjOm_yvc8UuYgXjc4UHk9tzvXaIV2t24C09_GH7NNvWG7UURY8uy3fdbR3ee_XMWmKUjsu4YL_a0J9pPt-4VWsadmZrNULvXq-uw/s775/DANSHAY-7b900d51-8aa6-49a7-b3df-08788823b4fd.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="775" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBO_s4Kq_2gcsD3167_citGhM4YShqqi2Kl_1SWt9iMa47FtaW55qglD96XguFyn6qWsybjl9NR6nab1o34k2kkBjOm_yvc8UuYgXjc4UHk9tzvXaIV2t24C09_GH7NNvWG7UURY8uy3fdbR3ee_XMWmKUjsu4YL_a0J9pPt-4VWsadmZrNULvXq-uw/s320/DANSHAY-7b900d51-8aa6-49a7-b3df-08788823b4fd.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan & Shay</td></tr></tbody></table>Every morning, Colton & Chris Harrison and sometimes one of the executive producers ran a few miles up and down the road to the beach, passing the private villa where the ladies stayed each way. The next morning, half the ladies were outside cheering them on. The <u>best</u> part of the date with Cassie, other than being with her, was the <u>sheer</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">private</u> <u>without</u> interruption. For nearly 4 hours, they enjoyed their situation as if they were the only 2 people on the planet. <u>Half</u> <u>that</u> <u>time</u>, they waited for the rain to stop. Every half-hour or so it rained; And then it <b><u>POURED</u>!</b> After half-sheltering themselves, Colton had his IPOD with him and listened to Dan & Shay to pass the time, picking songs for another. After 3/4 of the way through, the sky cleared to where they could just lax and play in the water. <u>That</u> was when Cassie turned to him and <u>verbally</u> asked Colton the one question that had <u style="font-weight: bold;">BURDENED</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">BURIED</u> him; <b><i>How Did Colton </i><u>NOT</u> <i>know</i>?</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton been asking the same question or a variant of it all his life. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> able to give an answer to it. The irony was that Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> Cassie that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">If he had</i><b>; </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">so many things that happened afterward might've been different. Now</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">with the perspective of time</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Colton can <u>see</u> the consequences of abandoning the one tool he had for dealing with people that Colton knew was foolproof</i><b>: </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HONESTY</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> dishonest with Cassie. He just didn't come out with <u>honesty</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to be <u>honest</u>; but <u>at</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u>, Colton couldn't. They had 6 weeks to go. He couldn't blow off the rest of his obligations. The thing was that Cassie <b><u>wasn't</u></b> asking out of curiosity. Cassie had her reasons. For her own piece of mind, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to know. She was an observer. She thought things through before stepping out or putting herself in an <u>uncomfortable</u> position. She didn't want to be any more vulnerable than what she already was. <u>To</u> <u>be</u> <u>fair</u>, Colton had not yet had his one-on-one with Hannah B. He did <b><u>technically</u></b> have an <u>out</u>. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u> Cassie didn't press for an answer. With light rain falling, they pulled the tarp over themselves, scrolled through songs, and talked about their favorites. They discovered that simple things like family, board games, and pets made them the <u>happiest</u>. The good times were to continue. Back at the resort, Colton received word that Cassie wasn't feeling well. He had felt disappointment at the time. Cassie had felt a stomach bug come upon her and began throwing up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton thought <u>FUCK</u> <u>IT</u>! And kissed her anyway. He was sorry that she was sick, but he was still trying for the kiss. A short time later, Colton heard Cassie and her producer arrive at his door. Even though Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> of Cassie's oral hygiene, he gave her a <u>BIG</u> kiss. Cassie <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">like</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HELL</u> to not throw up during dinner/discussion that she couldn't keep a straight thought. She ran out of the room several times mid-sentence and threw up. <u style="font-style: italic;">Yummy</u>! After her mad dash, Cassie came back and <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> again. She wiped tears from her eyes. Cassie <b><u>held</u> </b>in and <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to continue the evening. After taking a break, Cassie <u>managed</u> to finish the evening. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to crack a joke, trying to soften the blow of his virginity. But, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>it wasn't the time or a place for jokes. He also <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">understood</b> her position and where she was coming from. Cassie had gotten sick a couple of times before the evening finished. At the end of the evening, Colton <b><u>assured</u> </b>Cassie's illness that her illness was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WAY</u> her fault. Keeping everything the same, Cassie got a rose.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9ukv93Fb5sNNi4RlTE0NcW2btEwyWoxFOvcLsCKNJDeyxKDPvhw6UE4iyDRdEDQMBwqI8Y5-E07ZYK3aVMjnS7Yud3PSw_mI40VX9BQVIjh6GHzmSq6miNFZFnpmtNalMtb3NX6c8VR6spopnauV60LEEdF57P7FuFB1QWsSfolCPWSsMMdbUb_pow/s1322/c.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1322" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9ukv93Fb5sNNi4RlTE0NcW2btEwyWoxFOvcLsCKNJDeyxKDPvhw6UE4iyDRdEDQMBwqI8Y5-E07ZYK3aVMjnS7Yud3PSw_mI40VX9BQVIjh6GHzmSq6miNFZFnpmtNalMtb3NX6c8VR6spopnauV60LEEdF57P7FuFB1QWsSfolCPWSsMMdbUb_pow/s320/c.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div>Before leaving Thailand, Colton was getting a one-on-one date with Hannah G. Finally, despite his feelings for Cassie, he <b><u>KNEW</u></b> it wasn't enough time to know whether there was anything <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> than <u>being</u> comfortable; just to be in a relationship, Colton wanted that <b><u>WOW</u>!</b> factor. For the daytime portion of our date, they went to a spa for treatment/relaxation. Hannah arrived looking like a real life <u style="font-style: italic;">Barbie</u> doll in a red-print dress. Seduced by their surroundings, they gravitated closer to each other until Hannah broke the invisible barrier. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">realizing</u> something Colton hadn't considered until it happened; those intimate moments included <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> physiological responses. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u> on TV, but boners for men are <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>, regular and <u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UNAVOIDABLE</u><span style="font-weight: bold;">!</span> The producers are sensitive to guys who find themselves in a <b><u>HARD</u> </b>situation. (<i>Pardon the pun on behalf of the story.</i>) Colton didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">realize</u> this until he was in this situation himself until being in the ocean with Cassie and production needed him for an interview. Colton sure <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ready</u> to get out of the water. There was some confusion and shouting until one of the producers picked up what Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">trying</u> to bury down <u>discreetly</u> communicated the issue bought him time while Cassie <u>patiently</u> waited while Colton tried to lower a higher tide.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At dinner that night, Colton & Hannah G. bonded over their shared experiences of children of divorce. They definitely got along and had a great time. After getting back to the villa, Colton realized they didn't discuss any aspect of any future. <i style="font-weight: bold;">That which goes unsaid is spoken very loudly</i>. Cassie felt close to Colton, but <u>not</u> <u>exactly</u> I love you. She also felt the time running out. She counted the number of ladies left. She knew hometowns were around the corner. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u> scared her. When would she know? Colton felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXTREME</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPASSION</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SYMPATHY</u> for <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> he put his producers through. Colton was done being surprised. With <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> he learned of these ladies in this short time; it was all <b><u>REAL</u> <u>HEAVY</u>! </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When it came time to home visits, Colton flew to Denver <u>independently</u> of the ladies and checked into a downtown hotel. They stayed at a nearby <u style="font-style: italic;">AirBnB</u>. Being back in Denver surroundings had a re-energizing effect on him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEING</u> the familiar fueled his soul. After the calm before the storm that was the high energetic parental meetings. From there was a <u>tour</u> of Colton's trip back home. Finishing with a fancy dinner. By this time, Colton had 2 roses and lost patience. It broke Colton's heart to walk Hannah outside and see Cassie left wondering if she was left behind going home. Colton gave the last hometown rose to Cassie. Going off-script, Colton told her he <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he was falling in love with her. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he was in love with Cassie. Cassie expressed her <u>craze</u> for him. It wasn't what Colton <u>expected</u> to hear. Cassie <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> that by the look on Colton's face. In recognition of the hard week they endured, production offered Colton a little more time with Cassie. Colton took her to the top of Union Station; where <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> of ice was broken: Breaking the unavoidable tension.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cassie didn't want to leave, but at 4:00A, Colton escorted her down to the lobby. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Colton couldn't wait to meet her family when they returned to L.A. Colton tried to picture life within the hometowns. He thought that the ladies <i><u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">something</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fingering</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u></i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was midway through the hometowns, and Colton & Tayshia were standing in the back of a plane, looking down at the world through the open door from 13,000 feet. Colton thought he was going to die. But, what the hell, right? Colton thought if he died, it would be one helluva ride. Let's Do It! It was the <u>perfect</u> metaphor for the entire week of hometowns in which Colton survived! For the sake of being <u>respectful</u> for the families and the premise of the show, Colton agreed to ask each of the ladies' fathers for permission to get engaged to their daughters; beginning with Caelynn's stepfather. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">lied</u> when her father asked if he saw a future with his daughter. <i style="font-weight: bold;">A lie <u>bigger</u> than one he had in mind</i>. Caelynn's mom <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">seemed</u><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span>like <b><i><u>something</u> </i></b>wasn't on the up/up. <i style="font-weight: bold;">How Did Colton </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">know</i><b>?</b> She <u>seemed</u> like they weren't ready to go down the road they thought. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton did initially ask for permission to marry Caelynn from her stepdad. Was Colton ready. . .is a message/question any father would ask. But, <i style="font-weight: bold;">Colton wasn't ready for a future he wasn't sure of</i>. Not only was Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> ready; Caelynn's family <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> she <u>wasn't</u>. Colton couldn't wait to get the hell out of there! Next, Colton was off to Birmingham, AL.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As a warm-up, they took an etiquette class that served as a warning that courtships <u>differed</u> in the South then what TV projected. Hannah's parents were down-to-earth GOOD people, pure people. Colton could <u style="font-weight: bold;">FEEL</u> and just <u style="font-weight: bold;">TELL</u> he didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">FIT</u> in, which would've disappointed his parents. Colton still felt the <u>respect</u> to ask for permission as he had with other ladies' fathers. Either way, Colton was reading between the lines of what each father's intentional words meant to make him and the cameras go away. When Colton returned to the lobby of the hotel, Hannah B. was waiting in the lobby. She wanted more clairty from from Colton . In <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u>, Hannah waited to vent out her frustrations. Colton gave her the <u>free</u> <u>reign</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">lash</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">vent</u>. Once she raged, Colton didn't know how to <u>stop</u> her. He was done, spent & out of energy. He did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> have the <u style="font-weight: bold;">energy</u> to argue with Hannah. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton met w/ Tayshia's family at their home in Santa Ana, CA. As soon as he met them, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">mentally</u> hesitated reminding him of hometowns. That was a whole nother game involving people who<u><b> haven't</b></u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">signed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u> for this <u style="font-style: italic;">Bachelor</u> craziness. Colton even seen the reservations with his <u>own</u> family. The Underwood family <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to do a good job for Colton, but would have passed off the decision had been <u style="font-weight: bold;">solely</u> up to them. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">worried</u> Colton was a guy who <u style="font-weight: bold;">rushed</u> relationships. Colton, himself, was worried as well even if he asked permission. They worried Colton would lay it on thick with the fact they just met. You can't microwave a relationship. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton met Cassie and her family at their home in Huntington Beach, CA. This was a house where Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to fit in <u>before</u> he arrived. They had met up at a beach for a surfing lesson, her way of showing up her hometowns. After introductions, Colton <u>seen</u> the challenges ahead of him -<i> </i><b><i><u>NOT</u> <u>JUST</u> <u>THE</u> <u>ONES</u> <u>HE</u> <u>EXPECTED</u></i>!</b> Their dinnertime reminded Colton of his family. Down To A T of family flow. In the meantime, production began pulling people in combinations for interviews. Colton thought the night was going well <u>until</u> he got with Cassie's dad. They went outside and sat in 2 chairs next to their fire pit. The usual <u>protective</u> father of his daughter with Colton being a problem <u>before</u> he arrived.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That didn't stop Colton from <u style="font-weight: bold;">praising</u> Cassie and her importance to him. While Colton was giving praise, Cassie's parents were skeptical of his <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Bachelor</i> relationships with other ladies. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">RIGHT</u> to be skeptical. . . <i style="font-weight: bold;">outside of what they know of the show</i>. Colton argued with Cassie's differences. He gave Colton the clear sign that he did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> want Cassie to be engaged at the end of the show. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Like any father wanted. .. his daughter's happiness</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The thing about it was, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">agreed</u> 1,000% with Cassie's father <u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">point</u>. Yes, there were other ladies' involved. Colton would've been the <u>same</u> way being in their father's position. Their values and beliefs were <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sync</u> with one another. What <u style="font-weight: bold;">hurt</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> was <u>they</u> saw Colton as just, <u>another</u> <u>typical</u> guy. <b><i>Not seeing/realizing</i></b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> whom Colton would </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">ULTIMATELY</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">become. Like a flower that <u>hasn't</u> bloomed</i>. Colton had spent his <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> life working to be outstanding in <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">every</b> way he knew how. <i style="font-weight: bold;">He just didn't know <u>yet</u> how outstanding Colton would become</i>. Hoping another suitor could see it too. Looking back, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he was really pissed and frustrated at Cassie's father's response. It wasn't him Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> to have been pissed about, it was the situation at hand. Colton <u>did</u> wish Cassie well. He liked her family. Looking back, he knew he was being stupid. When the 4 hometowns were over/done, getting into the production van, trying to explain his reaction. Too much shit had gone down and Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">fucking</u> over it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>At</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u>, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he was in love with Cassie and wanted to figure out what to do. He was also considerate of her feelings <u>REAL</u> & <u>CLEAR</u>! Cassie was the <i>Queen Of I Don't Know</i>; and Colton didn't know what to do. There were moments when she would go <u>blank</u>. She was <u>everywhere</u> and <u>confused</u>. Colton remembers flying to Portugal and thinking about Cassie and her family throughout the 13TH hour flight. He didn't need airplane amenities when he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">corroded</u> in his thoughts. All Colton wanted at the time was sit and talk with Cassie <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u> cameras. <u>Alone</u>. Whatever happened with Cassie & Colton, he was <u>appreciative</u> of the way the show was <u>broadening</u> his life's experiences. The travel in itself - First Asia and then Europe - the travel was mind-blowing. So, the challenge was ahead of him <i style="font-weight: bold;">among others</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back in L.A., at the rose ceremony that followed hometowns, Colton sent Caeylnn home. The overnights with these ladies were scheduled to start the next day. Colton <u>differed</u> from other guys in <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">more</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ways</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">than</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">one</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> typical. On Colton's way to dinner that night, he seen several producers in the hotel dining room. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEEDED</u> to talk to them for his <u style="font-weight: bold;">OWN</u> mental health. Colton sat down and let the producers know he had thought about Cassie. They <u>knew</u> Colton and listened to him vent until he was spent/done; going back to his room to <b><u>SHUT</u> <u>THE</u> <u>FUCK</u> <u>DOWN</u>!</b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next morning, Tayshia & Colton got together on a helicopter tour and picnicked along the water. Colton had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">tough</u> time with all of the little things that made the date <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">authentic</u>. He didn't want to be there and was <u>mentally</u> checked out with his mind on Cassie. Tayshia had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u>. She was opening up about her own history in relationships. Then, they went to the fantasy suite which viewers seen paralyzed. By 2-3A., Tayshia realized that <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> was going to happen. She could <u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">evident</u> differentiated vibe with Colton as he was with Cassie & Hannah G. Tayshia fell asleep on half the bed,and Colton <u>eventually</u> laid next to her in his sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt. <i style="font-weight: bold;">For someone who sleeps </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NUDE</u><b>; </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Colton was </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">uncomfortable</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> sleep all night The next day, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">cancelled</u> production and interviews. He wanted to catch up on his sleep before his day with Cassie. Colton could tell it was to be the calm before the storm in the air.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A full day of rest did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> to quench Colton's paranoia that Cassie was breaking up with him. Colton's pre-interview with producers <u>supported</u> it. After a while, Colton could see what was coming. Cassie was happy and eager to see what was happening that morning. It was as if <u>nothing</u> was wrong. Blowing off the past week. They drove to Tavira, a romantic town on the coast. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Taking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> their surroundings. Cassie still had alot to figure out. She made it clear that her father's opinion was <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> to her. Colton wanted her to <u>understand</u> that he wasn't happening anytime soon. They didn't resolve <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> before producers pulled them for their mid-date interviews. Which was <u style="font-weight: bold;">frustrating</u>. Colton <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he wanted to be with Cassie <u>period</u>. Before the interview ended, Colton <u>flat</u>-<u>out</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he loved her. As he walked to his car, Colton glimpsed Cassie still doing her interviews, a crying mess. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> her crying was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> a good sign. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As Colton prepared for dinner, he was nervous, excited and <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">anxious</i>. The only thing on his mind <u>at</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u> <u>in</u> <u>the</u> <u>moment</u>: getting on the same page as Cassie. When Cassie arrived for dinner and Colton's heart dropped, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> something was off. It was in her eyes and it <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u> him. They sat uneasily next to one another on a sofa while cameras adjusted around them. Considering the situation at hand, Colton seen that small talk was <u>out</u> and they needed to address their issues with where this relationship was headed. Colton had heard of Cassie's dad, Matt, showing up at the hotel from him; awaiting Colton's reaction. Matt didn't want Cassie to cave to the pressure and stated she <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> when she fell in love; without a doubt. It was all clear & perfect. Everything a parent should do. Matt had dropped <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> and flown halfway around the world to <u style="font-weight: bold;">support</u> his daughter. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> surprised. Matt was an <u>overprotective</u> father. The kind Colton hoped to be someday. <u>Present</u> for his children. Family first. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, there soon became a moment when Colton felt like production was working against him in his relationship with Cassie <i style="font-weight: bold;">while fighting his inner demons and within himself as well</i>. Was Colton doomed to have a broken heart or was it supposed to end happily ever after? <b><i>Little did Colton know/come to realize it Colton's fault. N</i>o!</b> Leading people/everyone on to believe that Hannah G. was the one who "<i><u>wanted</u></i>". But, in Thailand, Colton made it <u style="font-weight: bold;">clear</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> with Cassie. Colton <u>wasn't</u> <u>clear</u>. The second<i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>Cassie said her dad traveled for her, he knew he lost her. Their <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> conversation was <u style="font-weight: bold;">RAW</u>! Colton <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">thought</b> he did his best to explain what was feeling and addressed her doubts; as if his words would convince her differently. Colton <u>fervently</u> apologized for what she went through in Denver and stated they needed more time together. If he could've, Colton <u>would've</u> spent the whole time with her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Suddenly</u>, in an out-of-nowhere hidden fit punishable upon himself</i>, Colton could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LONGER</u> control himself. Words fueled and his emotions were <b><u>EVERYWHERE</u>!</b> Colton then threw the cheeseboard in front of him and <u>blatantly</u> threw it across the floor. Colton's voice fueled with emotion <i style="font-weight: bold;">as his <u>inner</u> rages were coming to the surface</i>. He was only himself with Cassie <u>at</u> <u>that</u> <u>time</u>. <u>At</u> <u>that</u> <u>moment</u>, the only thing that mattered <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>, <i style="font-weight: bold;">was his hiding of the <u>truth</u> </i>with Cassie. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Whatever</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u> to hold on and <u style="font-weight: bold;">repress</u>. If Cassie left, Colton was <u>done</u> and there was no point in being <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It got to a point where it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> for Cassie. She called a time-out, got up and took a brief stroll to gather her thoughts. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Ultimately</u>, the decision was hers, becoming too much for her. She was overwhelmed, overcome and on overload to the point where the easiest thing for her to do was also the hardest. . .Walk Away. After they sat down and resumed her conversation, she realized she loved Colton but wasn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">love</b> with him. Colton, <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>, wondered if their cross positions were being played the <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> time. Cassie had spoken with her father <u>previously</u> on her departure later that evening. When she left, Colton was left <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shock</u>. His head was mind-boggling through a dark sky. Cassie wasn't ready for Colton to stop with her; nor was she ready to quit herself. She was <b><u>DONE</u>!</b> in <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> ways. <b><u>DONE</u>!</b> with <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> She was burned out and unsure of who to trust other than her dust. She left and ran before she felt suffocated. Only many months and <b><u>years</u></b> later did Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">FINALLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UNDERSTAND</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRASP</u> Cassie's position <b><i>with his own self-being</i></b>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As Cassie said, Colton knew the deal in which he got himself in what went on behind-the-scenes. Cassie was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> in the dark. She didn't know whom to <u>trust</u>, including Colton. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Other than the hidden underneath, How could Colton be trustworthy and of principle in this position</i><b>; </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">not just what he showed on-screen being </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Bachelor</u>. She was <u>right</u> not to trust Colton. She was at a point where she didn't even <u>trust</u> <u>herself</u>. . .Therefore, the importance of having her dad by her side. All Cassie knew was that she wasn't ready for marriage. Not to Colton. Not to <u>anybody</u>. And Matt gave her the where-with-all to stand-up and do what was <u>best</u> for her - and that was to go home. Colton walked Cassie out to the van and said goodbye; their last words being that they loved each other. Then he walked back to his cabin, By the time Colton returned, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he had done the same with Cassie and get the hell out of there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNaqwaBSvkfP9o6gfb2IqVzK58eXNM_lwn44cvS77z1VX3QmwLZpwT6qxPunhfFqZsZUxOOvoPZmiGs69gSpnXR5K13VRqHt0seGRjAr889-AGWMsWeCoymeaZYDtfMlFo2hhHE6fzkUYEg8M_OL4sH4wz0XfFaDQXnBPNVPj4yXqEhv_Qcuwvg9eKQ/s640/fence.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNaqwaBSvkfP9o6gfb2IqVzK58eXNM_lwn44cvS77z1VX3QmwLZpwT6qxPunhfFqZsZUxOOvoPZmiGs69gSpnXR5K13VRqHt0seGRjAr889-AGWMsWeCoymeaZYDtfMlFo2hhHE6fzkUYEg8M_OL4sH4wz0XfFaDQXnBPNVPj4yXqEhv_Qcuwvg9eKQ/w400-h225/fence.webp" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton fence jumping</td></tr></tbody></table>Colton, therein, ran upstairs, packed his shit, grabbed his wallet and headed outside. If there were <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u> regrets <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">this</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">point</u>, it was hitting the camera that was <u>directly</u> <u>in</u> <u>his</u> <u>face</u>. It <u>wasn't</u> his property. But. . .Colton did <u>slap</u> it <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>of <u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u>/<u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u>, ripped off his microphone and headed for the gate. Colton opened the front gate and <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> where he had to go. Up & over. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> considered the height of the gate or whether he could <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> pull himself up and hurdle his ass over to the other side. He just did it. His adrenaline kicked in when he started to run through the Portugal wilderness. He had no idea where he was or where to go. In his not-so-appropriate attire, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> dressed for a breakout and a long run. The road was empty and dark. Colton <u>just</u> picked a direction and <u>went</u> <u>for</u> <u>it</u> for 2 miles. He planned on going to find the U.S. Embassy, use the documents in his wallet to get a temporary passport, and fly his ass home. He even fared to pay for it himself. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">direct</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">focused</u> and couldn't deter. He just wanted to go home and be <u style="font-weight: bold;">DONE</u> with the show. He heard people calling his name in the distance. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GONE</u><b>!</b> He was swallowed by the darkness. Multiple cars drove by looking for him. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">surprised</u> that he wasn't attacked by anyone/anything at all, freeing himself to be bitten by something.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">safer</u> in the middle of the road. Fairly soon after he quit hiding, an SUV caught up with him. Colton heard Chris call his name. He ignored and kept walking. This went on for a bit. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> he was being videotaped. Colton assured the camera guy that he'll have to have a few extra battery packs due to a long walk ahead of him/them. Next thing you know, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">fucking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u><b>, </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">done</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u>. He needed a graceful way out of this situation. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">tired</u> to keep walking down a dark road. It was 2:30A, and Colton had been out for an hour when the show's top producers and Colton huddled and had the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">impromptu</u> production meeting in the show's history. Fucking jumping the fence. Hearing phones buzzing with text messages; the sound of outdoors in the night. Colton didn't know whether to laugh, scream, cry, put his hands up in surrender. Everyone in the network <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Colton had gone <u>AWOL</u>! Imagine the messages galore. <i style="font-weight: bold;">In the <u>real</u> <u>reality</u>; Colton was not <u>only</u> running from the show. . He was running from himself. . .Little did he himself know</i>. Breaking it down, Colton wanted to break up with the other ladies. He wasn't into it and wanted to sit through it. <u>Knowing</u>, he wanted to talk to Cassie. <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Thinking</u> she <u>was</u> <u>at</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u> </i><b>THE ONE! </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">The <u>only</u> one</i>. Meanwhile, the text chains went abound with production.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was 3:30A, when Colton returned to the hotel and continued talking with producers about what to do next. Several high ranking producers who hadn't been outside joined them. For their benefit, Colton repeated his plan to break up with Tayshia and Hannah and then sit down with Cassie if she was up to it. Colton's goal <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u> was to let Cassie know that she was The <u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONLY</u>; hopefully to get the 2 of them moving forward from where they were. Taking baby steps that Colton had <u>no</u> <u>problem</u> with if production wanted to use it. Whatever production wanted, Colton would chance it. That entire day was a blur. Colton was taken aback and shown differently than production stated. Then came a sit-down with Chris Harrison, which was essential. Viewers needed to know what happened. Colton had sprinted down a road at 2:00A the last time he seen Chris. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">resting</u>, Chris wondered of Colton's whereabouts. Chris was concerned. He was also letting Colton be aware of his behavior the previous night being pretty weird.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once the cameras were <b><u>LIVE</u>!</b>, Colton told <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">as</u><b style="font-style: italic;"> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">much</u><b style="font-style: italic;"> of the </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u><b style="font-style: italic;"> as he was </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">comfortable</u> to Chris. Colton described the <u>point</u> he reached the night prior, explaining why he hadn't ended up with Hannah G., as everyone thought. Colton couldn't stop thinking about Cassie. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he wanted to start over with her in Huntington Beach. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> he loved her. He felt like something was off <u>with</u> <u>her</u>. Something was holding <u>her</u> back. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Talk about deflection, right</i>. What was Colton going to do? Break up with Tayshia and Hannah. And that's what happened.Once they were face-to-face, Colton couldn't pit it off and did what he had to do. In a mature and respectful manner, then talk, it was confirmed what was obvious; <i style="font-weight: bold;">except for one very <u>important</u> thing</i>. Colton's conversation with Hannah was <u>harder</u>. No one wants to be the bearer of bad news, or hurt other people in the process.; which <u>wasn't</u> Colton's intention. . .<u>especially</u> when emotions/hearts are on the line. It was all <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">confusing</u>, on the very edge of being <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> to handle/figure out, with <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of Colton's eggs in one basket <i style="font-weight: bold;">not to mention a few Robin's ones</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton had his own <u style="font-weight: bold;">BREAKDOWN</u> when he left Hannah's room. <u>Ironically</u>, the walk became <u>very</u> <u>therapeutic</u> for Cassie. Confused. Struggling, overwhelmed, she was able to vent and try to figure things out. Only she could determine how she felt. She still didn't know that Colton had jumped the wall and everything in-between. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton was still sorting through his thoughts. His favorite producer with a camera operator and a sound man. They spoke for 2 hours. They covered <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> from jumping the fence to his feelings to his thoughts on family and the desire to make a life what Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> as meaningful and filled with love. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEARING</u> Colton, his producer was in tears as Colton finished. He put his camera down and gave Colton a hug. With Colton doing what he <b><u>had</u></b> <u><b>to</b></u> <u style="font-style: italic;"><b>at</b></u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;"><b>the</b></u><i> </i><b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">time</b>, in his 20s. A time to take risks and make mistakes. Take Chances. Lead with his heart. His night was restless. He didn't know what was going to happen with Cassie. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> was that he had to <u>risk</u> one emotion and what he <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">thought</b> was right. For an end-all-be-all. The next morning, Colton was driven to Cassie's hotel. They spoke of whether there would be a show without an ending. Then came a moment when all would be decided.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton and the crew got out of the car. They <u>started</u> off <u>great</u>. Once they got to a quiet spot that had been prepped, Colton explained that he had broken up w/ Cassie <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>, Colton went to make sure Cassie <u>understood</u> that moving <u>forward</u> with her in a relationship was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> than getting engaged for the <u>sake</u> of the show. No talk for anything else than that. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> the premise of the show and it didn't matter anymore. Getting to know each other was way past. They would figure out the rest. Day-by-day. The only thing Colton had to hold on to <i style="font-weight: bold;">aside from buried truth</i> <i style="font-weight: bold;">that he <u>failed</u> to acknowledge</i>. As far as Colton, his only goal <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u> was to get to know one another with a 2ND chance. Colton saw a relief in her eyes. There wasn't anymore talk of forever. Maybe today. <u>Hopefully</u> tomorrow. . . .On a trip to Spain with Colton's family. Everyone was happy. Next, Colton had to speak with Cassie's dad. The job of getting Cassie's dad up to speed <i style="font-weight: bold;">therein up to this point</i> fell on Colton's shoulders. <i style="font-weight: bold;">As honest as Colton <u>could</u> be </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">on</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">surface</u>, Colton told him everything. and his reaction to <u>what</u> Colton <u>said</u> was <u>more</u> <u>positive</u>. Knowing where everyone stood, they were all <u>good</u> - <b><i>For Now</i>!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In Mallorca, Spain, Colton was met up with his <u>family</u>; giving them warmth and emotion from missing them, being <u>very</u> <u>emotional</u> the following days. Colton filled them in, unsure of their reaction, but assured they'd be relieved from what the show would air. Scott said it was the best thing for their family. . . <i style="font-weight: bold;">while <u>everyone</u> <u>wasn't</u> <u>aware</u> of what's to foresee to come . . .<u>especially</u> Colton</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">himself</i>. After Colton prepped them, they had concerns about meeting someone who had already broken up with him. But, they were ready to help figure out where Cassie's head was at and provide <u>any</u> insights they gleamed from talking to her. Colton tried to figure out how and why something was off with Cassie. <i style="font-weight: bold;">He just <u>couldn't</u> put his finger on it</i>. Colton could tell that Cassie had been crying. Her eyes met his and they were filled with fear. Colton could <u>just</u> <u>see</u> the breakup coming ahead. Cassie had had a panic attack inside the way freaking herself out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For whatever reason, Cassie <u>chose</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">moment</u> to open up about her ex and how hard that relationship had made her feel controlled/manipulated. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WAY</u> like that. She suffered from PTSD. <u style="font-weight: bold;">So</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">revelations</u> that said <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> about Cassie <u>right</u> <u>then </u>then the <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> time together advised her to breathe. There was <b><u>NO</u> </b>pressure. All she had to do was be herself. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Something Colton </i><u style="font-weight: bold;"> FREIGHTFULLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">FEARED</u>. Everyone in the Underwood family played their roles, and Cassie felt <u>much</u> <u>better</u> by the end. Then producers took themselves to their separate hotel to rest and regroup. The next day, Colton and Cassie met up again for an outdoor adventure. Afterward, they went back to their prospective hotels, until later that night, when they met up again for a romantic dinner. This was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u> dinner prior to the fantasy suite suited <u>for</u> <u>the</u> <u>show</u>, if <u>she</u> accepted. This was to be a redo - a date they never got in Portugal. Colton couldn't have been <u>any</u> <u>more</u> happier when he seen Cassie again. . .<i style="font-weight: bold;">aside from when seeing and coming to </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> realizational terms of himself</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Conversation at dinner was light and breezy; which was given considering the <u style="font-weight: bold;">density</u> of situations at hand the last few days. One topic, <i style="font-weight: bold;">outside of the <u>deeply</u> rooted</i>, which was why Colton hadn't told anyone other than Caeylnn about his previous relationship. Given what was ahead of them, <i style="font-weight: bold;">and Colton to top off mentally struggling within himself already</i>. Colton opened up about sensing the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> beginning of what he hoped would be a <u>lifelong</u> quest of discovering her as a <u>friend</u>. . .<i style="font-weight: bold;">which spoke volumes looking back</i> at her as a human being. Colton hoped and prayed the feelings were <u>mutual</u>. Next, came an invitation from <u style="font-style: italic;">ABC</u> to the fantasy suite. Before Colton said anything, Cassie had the key in hand. When they were left to their own vices after instruction from production . . That was no one's business. . . <i style="font-weight: bold;">which was </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">ABSOLUTELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> <i><b>and</b></i> <b><u>COMPLETELY</u></b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">INNOCENT</u> <i style="font-weight: bold;">which will soon be realized</i>. After looking for electronic bugs from production. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cassie was more in her head than Colton was about things a thoughtful person might and <u>probably</u> should consider before their first sleepover with someone. Then came what others didn't think of . . comfortably on the side of the bed. Were pajamas <u>necessary</u>? Considering how Colton <u>personally</u> prefers. Water running at various times. . .etc. The bed was <u>right</u> <u>next</u> to the shower in the fantasy suite. . .so, talk about no surprises. Colton saw Cassie in her most <u>natural</u> state, <i style="font-weight: bold;">as an amazingly wonderful human being</i>. The next morning, producers knocked on their door at 9:00A. to shoot their last I.T.M. <u>jointly</u>. Colton & Cassie <u style="font-weight: bold;">weren't</u> ready for 9:00A. in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">MORNING</u>. After letting them in, came questions from production. Hinting at what <b><u>wasn't</u></b> <u>there</u>! Trust Colton; <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> talks about sex like they don't have. <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>Especially</u> in his <u>current</u> shoes</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSItA9eGHqEFKeKzCed_EvD5gE_9RLPBD8zZBd_FpJFL0dZLp7_1kzw6r90LHYh7O_gZbVcBiJ-vmdlfdVfRXsJzeUn47HgU4R4BLczmTh3HvPg6RDFchccIw0u4aF-krjGotF9eJ1U3LUoffIPrVV1vsyA1nlThUjwyj0xyyq4vKhVhSTByInMv1zw/s2000/colton%20and%20cassie.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSItA9eGHqEFKeKzCed_EvD5gE_9RLPBD8zZBd_FpJFL0dZLp7_1kzw6r90LHYh7O_gZbVcBiJ-vmdlfdVfRXsJzeUn47HgU4R4BLczmTh3HvPg6RDFchccIw0u4aF-krjGotF9eJ1U3LUoffIPrVV1vsyA1nlThUjwyj0xyyq4vKhVhSTByInMv1zw/s320/colton%20and%20cassie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>No</u> <u>matter</u> how long or short of a relationship, every couple can look back on a moment after their first night together when they face each other with a <u>look</u> of the future asking "<i>What's Next</i>?" For Cassie & Colton, it was a nearby mansion in the hills above Mallorca, the happy couple's house. They spent the next 3 days there and instructed them to enjoy themselves. The producers accompanied them to the mansion. Cassie & Colton ate breakfast; talked through the afternoon. By dinnertime; they were actually talking <u>through</u> about what was next. Where did they stand? How would they co-exist? <i style="font-weight: bold;">Not to mention. . .Colton's inner sufferings</i>. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">lot</u> to think about for a brand-new couple. Then all of a sudden, the <u>whole</u> house went <u style="font-weight: bold;">dark</u>. While scary; it was time for Colton to <b><u>MAN</u></b> <b><u>UP</u>!</b> Cassie grabbed a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GIANT</u> butcher knife and followed close behind him while Colton looked for a circuit breaker. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">READY</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">RUN</u> like hell. She was ready to pounce. A couple of times they separated and Colton called out that he was coming from around the corner. Don't Stab Me!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They didn't search long before Colton found the breaker box and reset the power. Problem solved. But, then another one arose. <u>No</u> communication from/to the outside world. It wasn't safe to be out in the countryside without means of communication. What if there was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> emergency? Questioning the what-if's, and ended up <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanting</u> their cellphones. They were packed away in their producers rooms. They went upstairs, rifled through their luggage, and <u>reclaimed</u> their property. Within minutes, they were both downstairs, connected to the Wi-Fi and <u style="font-style: italic;">Face-Timing</u> their parents. Enjoying wonderful catch-ups. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They were in the process of returning their phones to their hiding places when Colton & Cassie were <b><u>BUSTED</u>!</b> He sprinted his ass downstairs to greet them; but Colton's face was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEAD</u> giveaway. Colton <u>tried</u> like hell to bullshit and sweet-talk his way through it; but was blown off to where Cassie was. Her confession was <u style="font-weight: bold;">immediate</u> and met with an amused chuckle. It wasn't even a big deal. They <u>could've</u> had their phones. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Talk about juvenile</i>. They had 2 months for re-acclimation of life back home. Colton spent Thanksgiving with them. He then visited Cassie and her family in Huntington Beach. She picked him up incognito from the cameras. Her family kept <u>discretion</u> for <u>privacy</u>. Forging a "<i>normal</i>" sense of coupledom was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">challenge</u>; <i style="font-weight: bold;">especially for Colton</i>. After Christmas, almost all of Colton's time was <u>taken</u> with promotion and publicity for the show; <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. From then on, Colton traveled several times a week and stayed in touch with Cassie by morning and late night phone calls, text messages throughout the day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKADBIR3hTkKCme8-1PJ6xJLXJdJKw-aFFL9Al7VEjNrAaPlaZkkCk8flWa5zKGTcFDBPZlnoAIbs3Zy6XUfcDwRrZuMOmL77vQTRG9dYamclPMJt1NcU4ygS7Hm6hlcAm4M7gO2pkx-bSZYxPo1DYmzhBVXV9MFXFBKgbeYQKEsJviS-nllX7H_acaw/s500/colton-underwood-showers.gif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="500" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKADBIR3hTkKCme8-1PJ6xJLXJdJKw-aFFL9Al7VEjNrAaPlaZkkCk8flWa5zKGTcFDBPZlnoAIbs3Zy6XUfcDwRrZuMOmL77vQTRG9dYamclPMJt1NcU4ygS7Hm6hlcAm4M7gO2pkx-bSZYxPo1DYmzhBVXV9MFXFBKgbeYQKEsJviS-nllX7H_acaw/s320/colton-underwood-showers.gif" width="320" /></a></div>They <u>tried</u> to see each other at least <u>once</u> <u>a</u> <u>week</u> and counted the days between hideaways that the show arranged for them; guided under the cover of secrecy. One Happy Couple home was a transition in L.A., where Colton spent an <u>ENTIRE</u> day showering in each of the 5 different bathrooms <u>while</u> the show captured B-roll footage of him lathering up. Cassie was amused by the way Colton's showering had caught on with fans. She exposed the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> about Colton's showers. . .he was a messy clean freak. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">took</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u> in the shower, but like any other guy constituted living with towels on the floor. Similarly, Colton made coffee in the morning but always left a puddle of coffee on the counter that needed wiping up. Cassie was forgiving <u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">point</u>. Colton <u>crossed</u> <u>the</u> <u>line</u> when he used her toothbrush. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">deliberately</u> grossed her out. It was weird and something Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> understood. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Just a word of note that Colton </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">did it again. <u>No</u> <u>matter</u> whom he was with</i>. I could make out with you, but I can't use your toothbrush. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Talk about irony</i>. At the end of January, Colton celebrated his 27TH birthday in another <u style="font-style: italic;">Happy Couple</u> home; where Cassie surprised him with a re-creation of their first date. He woke up in Thailand the next morning and she led him into the backyard. Colton was blown away. There was memorabilia from their trip. Therein lies the question: <i style="font-weight: bold;">How Did Colton </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">know</i><span style="font-weight: bold;">?</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The game wasn't even close to being over. It was fun; but there came a <u>price</u>. They felt like prisoners in these places. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> go outside; nor could they have anyone inside. They were <u>both</u> antsy, active people, so it was <u>hard</u>. Colton got the <u>natural</u>, <u>unadorned</u> version with bad breath in the morning. But, <u>at</u> <u>the</u> <u>t</u><u>ime</u>, Colton was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ecstatic</u> with any version of Cassie.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As much as Colton <u>wanted</u> a "<i>normal</i>" life, <i style="font-weight: bold;">with what he was </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">battling</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">internally</u>, he deemed it <u style="font-weight: bold;">impossible</u> while the show was in season. The 4TH episode - Colton's date with Caelynn in Singapore - was particularly hard on Cassie. Seeing him "<i>connect</i>" with other ladies upset her. The first kiss <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> aired. But, it did get better as the show progressed; but Cassie had it much <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u> than Colton. . .<i style="font-weight: bold;">for the moment</i>. People recognized her and commented. They <u>didn't</u> <u>know</u> Colton & Cassie were together. He reached out to Becca and asked her to speak with Cassie. The 4 of them got together and hashed it <b><u>all</u></b> out. Her advice <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u> helps <u>this</u> <u>situation</u>. They watched the Thailand episode with Cassie's family in Huntington Beach. It wasn't <b><u>too</u> </b>uncomfortable. But, Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">swore</u> he saw Cassie's dad playing with a pocket knife through much of the episode They assumed Cassie's family of <u>good</u> behavior. They were good sports without taking things <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cassie watched hometowns at a restaurant with her family. Colton joined them the next week for their breakup. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> have picked a <u style="font-weight: bold;">tougher</u> episode. The fence jumping was <u style="font-weight: bold;">overly</u> promoted. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OVER</u> the media promotions. Cassie's family had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">house</u> while Colton <u>cringed</u>. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">raw</u> and agonizing and <b><u>hard</u></b> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">relive</u>. But, <u>no</u> <u>one</u> seemed to have a problem, especially Cassie's dad. Did Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> think he was going to have her father's blessing after 6 weeks? Looking at it to find it funny. At least Colton had the benefit of knowing that Cassie was sitting next to him and holding his hand. Cassie was <u>much</u> <u>better</u> at paying <u style="font-weight: bold;">attention</u> to what really <u style="font-weight: bold;">mattered</u>. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> after the episode was <u style="font-weight: bold;">over</u>. His phone and social media exploded with support for him and Cassie. They also quiered about why Colton would be with someone whom <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> want him. Colton also heard from a slew of football players from across the league. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj79Pnf4rHJbeLGkbTpf7-1IUV17mG_DEkCmHahAPpmEyE9E-AY3kB5O8PJF9VFq0kHFiAeLq7aZKOr7kJai2t2Qe5M33nYpkybZsbhZdecEpXu4g7GPQtGoB0mEONfrjxE2pCzjtvzOQ2jH7zQAZb2LBnFYuBTcs43tsylRZxtEz5CDOhIRwpC2ofmNg/s1024/Colton-Underwood-Jimmy-Kimmel-1024x686.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="1024" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj79Pnf4rHJbeLGkbTpf7-1IUV17mG_DEkCmHahAPpmEyE9E-AY3kB5O8PJF9VFq0kHFiAeLq7aZKOr7kJai2t2Qe5M33nYpkybZsbhZdecEpXu4g7GPQtGoB0mEONfrjxE2pCzjtvzOQ2jH7zQAZb2LBnFYuBTcs43tsylRZxtEz5CDOhIRwpC2ofmNg/s320/Colton-Underwood-Jimmy-Kimmel-1024x686.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This was the most traction that Colton received online <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thus</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">far</u> <b><u>right</u> <u>now</u>!</b> The <u>LIVE</u>! finale in March 2019 didn't come <u style="font-weight: bold;">fast</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u>. 3 months of hiding out and keeping their relationship under wraps was <u>finally</u> over. In the afternoon, they limoed to Hollywood to tape an appearance on <u style="font-style: italic;">Jimmy Kimmel</u> for later that night. <u>Technically</u>, Jimmy's audience was the first to see Colton and Cassie together. She liked hearing that Jimmy's wife knew from the beginning they'd choose one another. After <u style="font-style: italic;">Kimmel</u>, Colton & Cassie split up and got ready for the 3HR. <u>LIVE</u>! finale. On his way to the studio, something strange and wonderful happened. While stopped at a red light, Colton's car was suddenly overtaken by <u>thousands</u> of lady butterflies. <u>At</u> <u>the</u> <u>time</u>, an estimated one billion painted lady butterflies were migrating from Mexico to the Pacific Northwest. For a moment, all of them appeared to be surrounding his car. The gift in itself was surreal. It reminded Colton of the mix of butterflies Cassie gave him on their very first night. Several hours later, their couplehood was a secret no more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEUWq_D8F_4bOokuoVBEdJZIrmC7yRlkYm7rcaEjXd5zKuo0Cqy_J49UyNs_SNFD06wtEaho2JjkItR9Ef5mtmS-j4yDzaWGdxBiKZ7EIUU0T8peTAFNeVXiC7C8EeB2j_EyPy-TeO1CvUO1G5HO0dES0QrwHkt36F7PyBhfUS2J6DMzu8QU2zfdlcA/s820/gma.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="820" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAEUWq_D8F_4bOokuoVBEdJZIrmC7yRlkYm7rcaEjXd5zKuo0Cqy_J49UyNs_SNFD06wtEaho2JjkItR9Ef5mtmS-j4yDzaWGdxBiKZ7EIUU0T8peTAFNeVXiC7C8EeB2j_EyPy-TeO1CvUO1G5HO0dES0QrwHkt36F7PyBhfUS2J6DMzu8QU2zfdlcA/s320/gma.png" width="320" /></a></div>Next thing you know, postings online <b><u>EVERYWHERE</u>!</b> Colton told his grandmother of kids' action online today with relationships. Both of their social media were <u>flooded</u> with messages. People were <u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u> for them. <i style="font-weight: bold;">If only for a moment</i>. Nonetheless, people love a good love story. Next came the rounds of exhausting flights and media beginning with <u style="font-style: italic;">Good Morning America</u>. Their "<i><u>plan</u></i>" was to get to know each other. Colton moved to Los Angeles to be closer to Cassie. Simple <u>quiet</u> time together became the moments they <u style="font-weight: bold;">cherished</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> of all. Not surprisingly, those are the <u style="font-weight: bold;">moments</u> that <u style="font-weight: bold;">mattered</u>. They traveled to New York together and the red carpet circuit, as well as the cover of <u style="font-style: italic;">People</u> magazine; but none of that gave them the time they <u>reached</u> to get to <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> each other. They missed that part of the relationship. Courting. Getting to know one another. <i style="font-weight: bold;">For Colton</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">letting Cassie in on what he could/ <u>know</u> how to/how much</i>. The fun stuff that creates a foundation for a relationship to go the distance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colton discovered how special taking it slow can be <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>. Put friendship first and begin to build a relationship. . .not for TV. The relationship therein was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GOOD</u><b>, </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PURE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LEARNING</u> experience. In August, Colton & Cassie broke up. He wanted more. She wanted to relax. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Colton wanting more was more of a delve into hiding</i><b>/</b><i style="font-weight: bold;">running</i>. It's the little things that mean a lot. Navigating a relationship in public is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">unique</u> experience. It was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">fantasy</u> when Colton <u>vowed</u> to become <u style="font-style: italic;">The Bachelor</u>. Who does that? Colton Scott Underwood did; <i style="font-weight: bold;">regretably</i>. He opened his life to TV.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuFU_h0j2HSpgxF70EByxIRqN1qtD_Zv6IWzJOiT7KhdXQSUizZWsEnCPLbAStaVsFCOP-SZglTr47o0Gos9RiUUEWj_IE8ZwjiJ3IEeY7Pu7FkKEoSoWQjwHP0IVhdh56ikNRsiliPTINeXuizqv9Q0XICqmp6wUOQPeBaECQRGREnGtMKguOVIGEg/s1200/hat.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1200" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWuFU_h0j2HSpgxF70EByxIRqN1qtD_Zv6IWzJOiT7KhdXQSUizZWsEnCPLbAStaVsFCOP-SZglTr47o0Gos9RiUUEWj_IE8ZwjiJ3IEeY7Pu7FkKEoSoWQjwHP0IVhdh56ikNRsiliPTINeXuizqv9Q0XICqmp6wUOQPeBaECQRGREnGtMKguOVIGEg/w400-h250/hat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Colton took what crushed him in high school . . ..<i><b>aside</b></i><i style="font-weight: bold;"> from the <u>deeply</u> hidden and acknowledged</i> and in college, along with his insecurities that plagued him and put them out for the world to see <u>what</u> <u>he</u> <u>wanted</u>. Instead of destroying him, Colton got <u style="font-weight: bold;">stronger</u>, more self-confident, and <u>maybe</u> a little wiser. He is <u>human</u>. He was an All-American former pro football player who didn't have the answers. Be who you are, and if you aren't sure, don't be afraid to try things that will help you figure it out. Don't worry about what other people think like <u>many</u> people Colton's age; he is a mix of contradictions as he tried to figure out where he fit in. Colton finds the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> meaning in helping people. There's something about giving <u>selflessly</u> that makes Colton his <u>best</u> self. Colton is/was still unsure where love takes him; but it took him on an <u style="font-weight: bold;">UNFORGETTABLE</u> journey.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Life is a crazy, unpredictable joy-filled miracle. It's meant to be experienced <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">moment</u>, without making sense later, Colton walked <u style="font-weight: bold;">with</u> gratitiude and anger, heartache and hope, trusting that Higher Powers That Be will direct him to his direction. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> of prayer and consciousness come into play for Colton's next life</i>. Colton & Cassie broke up <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOR</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GOOD</u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Each relationship has a learning lesson for the next</i>. It just wasn't the storybook ending people <u style="font-weight: bold;">imagined</u> when their season ended. They had their issues like any other couple. . . .<i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>not</u> <u>just</u> Colton's inner fighting</i>. Cassie felt there was pressure on her to commit one way or the other due to the way their relationship unfolded <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">publicly</u> on television. There's a period that all of us go through where we look inside ourselves and ask questions that no one will <b><u>ever</u></b> be able to answer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cassie was <u style="font-weight: bold;">100%</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u> when Colton was diagnosed with Covid-19; as well as her <u style="font-weight: bold;">entire</u> family. The situation was unfortunate, <u style="font-weight: bold;">impossible</u> to predict, incredibly trying and surreal. <i style="font-weight: bold;">It </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">MADE</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Colton </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">DIG</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEP</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> to </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">LOOK</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">AT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HIMSELF</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IN</u><b>/</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OUT</u><b>! </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">And </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">WONDER</u><b>? </b><i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">Psychologically</i><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>frightening</u> Colton</i>. Making him feel <u>uncertain</u>, <b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">terrified</b> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredibly</u> alone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrjZXCHd9lRMrvq_RN-eSYr15X1AHjC0IO4ypuZlyWXYQvavTmZ10xHif3hZGaLQS5AHfPAVUAsgb8TJwUuW-kzaA_trP8ogJlIsdXr11vhnmU6ckDGSIeKkDP09BDXysm6hZivK8zmvFNsNLm1xTh4NJ6_NRdWQr3dbpJCw5a035Fpqc7XbPWEqdmg/s237/boarding.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="237" data-original-width="212" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrjZXCHd9lRMrvq_RN-eSYr15X1AHjC0IO4ypuZlyWXYQvavTmZ10xHif3hZGaLQS5AHfPAVUAsgb8TJwUuW-kzaA_trP8ogJlIsdXr11vhnmU6ckDGSIeKkDP09BDXysm6hZivK8zmvFNsNLm1xTh4NJ6_NRdWQr3dbpJCw5a035Fpqc7XbPWEqdmg/w286-h320/boarding.jpeg" width="286" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boarding</td></tr></tbody></table>It was late March, and Colton had just gotten back from a ski event in Colorado. Cassie and he were down in Huntington Beach to hang out with her family. When they were body boarding, she got stung by a stingray and a <u style="font-weight: bold;">reaction</u>. They rushed Cassie to the E.R. and were in matching masks/gloves. A few days later, Cassie & Colton were at her place in West Hollywood. Colton had a <u>mild</u> heartache in the late afternoon. . .but didn't think <u>anything</u> of it. In the middle of the night, Colton woke up sick, <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shivering</u> and drenched in sweat. Cassie got so <u style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">hot</u> she drew Colton a bath and instructed him to get in. Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">convinced</u> he had Covid. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">SURE</u> of it and that it would kill him. She kept denying it. Thinking Colton was being dramatic for the sake of it. By morning, Colton was <u style="font-weight: bold;">sicker</u>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3UMz7Eq_Vm9LNuKXq4_xj5gCdRgyi76MxaFTRciLACUKGnspu-0xv-z5l2N5DpRsdPbW2HtF4V8N7mHw7sl_9UMxfwmROuhLI6g2YKtCr8CowZOHcOKYjQ_t9Tg5aZJWJaEyF5ufID_dkVIrSeD6YI0TNS6zXRpH0i7z5z2JdPfN0ZjF8U2_JIMEPA/s1284/61C2eUmL34L._AC_SL1414_.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1204" data-original-width="1284" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3UMz7Eq_Vm9LNuKXq4_xj5gCdRgyi76MxaFTRciLACUKGnspu-0xv-z5l2N5DpRsdPbW2HtF4V8N7mHw7sl_9UMxfwmROuhLI6g2YKtCr8CowZOHcOKYjQ_t9Tg5aZJWJaEyF5ufID_dkVIrSeD6YI0TNS6zXRpH0i7z5z2JdPfN0ZjF8U2_JIMEPA/w200-h188/61C2eUmL34L._AC_SL1414_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />Unsure of what to do, Colton turned to Cassie's mom, who arranged for them to get tested. <u>Sure</u> <u>enough</u>, it came back <b><u>POSITIVE</u>!</b> It threw <u>everyone</u> into a state of concern and panic. The COVID numbers were <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXTREMELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LOW</u> at the time. <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWING</u> his family was in Colorado and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u> of how Colton would fare on his own if he returned to his apartment, Cass' family put him in the 3RD floor bedroom of their beachfront home and banded together to <u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u> for him. Colton debated <u>internally</u> about what to do; whether he should stay or go - Colton was - and <u style="font-weight: bold;">will</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u> <b><u>grateful</u> </b>to Cassie's parents/family keeping Colton's ass placed. For much of the next week, Colton's temperature was 102 or slightly higher, and he felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">terrible</u>. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">struggled</u> to breathe. They worked at about 20% capacity level. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ounce</u> of Colton's body <u style="font-weight: bold;">hurt</u>. His <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRETY</u> of being <b><u>SHUT</u> <u>DOWN</u>! </b>He slept for 15-16 hours/day. One night, Cassie's mom snuck into Colton's room and tested his blood with a finger tip monitor. <u>Several</u> times it didn't work. They thought Colton was dead. He assured them he wasn't. He was still <u>alive</u>. After about a week, Colton began to emerge from the depths of COVID. He sensed a light at the end of the tunnel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As Colton continued to recuperate, he would make his way up and down the stairs of the Randolph's home. Getting something to eat, drop in and play board games, look for conversation/company and a connection to "<i><u>normalcy</u></i>". Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">ADMITS</u> his fault and stupidity and not masking up with Cassie's family or keeping <u>separate</u> quarters after infection. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ANXIETY</u> in the house was at an <b><u>ALL</u>-<u>TIME</u> <u>HIGH</u>!</b> Some people in the neighborhood sneered at Colton <u>running</u> in the neighborhood with a mask and COVID. <i style="font-weight: bold;">This was <u>before</u> various varieties were available</i>. Meanwhile, Cassie and her family <u>remained</u> Covid-Free. Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">apologized</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">profusely</u> to them for his lapses and and <u>continues</u> to live in regret <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u> he thinks of the situation he put them in. In being there for him, they provided Colton with the <b><u>importance</u></b> of opening your hearts and doors to one another. Then came another unexpected <u>twist</u>. Once Colton felt <b><u>strong</u> </b><u>enough</u> to return to his place in L.A., he <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> leave. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> under stay-at-home orders. Colton <u><b>ate</b></u> the Randolf's out of the pantry and cabinet. They had a mini-intervention to tell him that he/Colton was eating <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> peanut butter. (<i>Which Colton <b><u>truly</u> </b>was</i>.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4Xa-rQHvikaiHIuMNeP24-HZzCSXVptQivep0SKRmKAd8iNW765GsvQq6vhYHOAZQOq8eTYbttyaNNa5upiA4Uy1GEz3Ru-XUf_2p0AY0tZGfPRc9HWAhaXAvNBMzJL9KG5HwvkkDZKrgFBs9YEhklCP0eM3HHFIlmXQM2ePPxutpQX1KYeygOWRwg/s600/1.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="600" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4Xa-rQHvikaiHIuMNeP24-HZzCSXVptQivep0SKRmKAd8iNW765GsvQq6vhYHOAZQOq8eTYbttyaNNa5upiA4Uy1GEz3Ru-XUf_2p0AY0tZGfPRc9HWAhaXAvNBMzJL9KG5HwvkkDZKrgFBs9YEhklCP0eM3HHFIlmXQM2ePPxutpQX1KYeygOWRwg/s320/1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>It was only when Colton & Cassie finally tried to grab back a little bit of "<i>normalcy</i>" that Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> the virus was only part of a much <u style="font-weight: bold;">larger</u> problem. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Not to mention</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">the </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FRAGILITY</u> <i style="font-weight: bold;">of life with and/or surviving Covid. That Colton began to </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">see</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> within himself. There's </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nothing</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> like death </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">staring</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> you </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">right</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">in</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">face</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> that you see the </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> of your own.</i> Colton and Cassie were themselves struggling with <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> and didn't know <u style="font-weight: bold;">what</u> to do. That in of itself took Colton for a <u style="font-weight: bold;">fucking</u> mental loop. <b><u style="font-style: italic;">FUCK</u>! </b>In a <u style="font-style: italic;">calmer</u> moment, they would discuss things. <i style="font-weight: bold;">It's the little things that mean </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u><b>. </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">Not what you are. Not what you got</i>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">At</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>, Colton seen an <u>emotional</u> cut that <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">hurt</b> way more than <u>physical</u> ones. Cassie's eyes were <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u> of tears as she tried to explain, <u style="font-weight: bold;">struggling</u> to find the words. Finally, Colton insisted for some <u>silence</u>. They <u>both</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> want to come to a conclusion they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">destined</u> to! So, they didn't. For the next several days, they hung out and returned to normal the best they could considering the circumstances. <u>Uncertainty</u> of their relationship hit Colton hard. . .<b><i>How does one be <u>honest</u> without <u>hurting</u> the other</i>? </b>Cassie didn't want to break-up during the <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEIGHT</u> of coronavirus. The virus in of itself turned the world <u style="font-weight: bold;">upside</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u> as it was. With no recourse <u style="font-weight: bold;">in-sight</u>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was starting to become a point for Colton . . .<b><i>whom was <u>suffering</u> <u>internally</u></i></b> <b style="font-style: italic;">as well as </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">physically</u>; it was better to have Cassie's family that have <b><u>NOBODY</u>!</b> People dying by the <u style="font-weight: bold;">thousands</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">daily</u> during this time of the pandemic. As <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scary</u> as the loneliness was, Colton didn't want to sever a relationship that was dying. He would rather cut the cord. If it was over, it was <b><u>OVER</u>!</b> But, no one would say it. When he got to her family's home, Colton gathered stuff of his that he left strewn about and took an <u style="font-style: italic;">UBER</u> to return to L.A. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cassie's birthday was a few days later. Colton felt sad for the position he had put her in, and later then drove down to her at <u>the</u> <u>last</u> <u>minute</u>, had dinner, celebrated with her family and friends, and then returned to L.A. 2 Days Later, Colton drove to Colorado. He wanted to be with family and put some distance between him and Cassie. She needed the <u>space</u> as well. During the month 1/2 Colton was gone, he and Cassie stayed in touch off/on. Just checkin' in. They were friendly, but <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>. Therein, Cassie stated she wanted <u>both</u> of them to make a <u>public</u> statement about the breakup. Rumors throw a cause for speculation, and Cassie wanted to put the rumors to <u>rest</u>. Colton loves and appreciates those who love him, but he doesn't feel beholden to anyone but himself. He wasn't going to let public opinion dictate his decisions. It's hard enough to live his life in the spotlight. Cassie wanted to be <u>more</u> public; but Colton didn't or see a reason to . Period. <i style="font-weight: bold;">No need to be ostentatious when you can ride out in the quiet</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then one day, Cassie asked about when Colton was going to put out a statement. What was her deal? If that was the case, then Cassie was going to make one <u>on</u> <u>her</u> <u>own</u>. Colton, <i style="font-weight: bold;">still battling with himself</i>, felt like the kid on the high dive who needed a push. Otherwise, they'd never jump. You don't need a therapist to understand why Colton was <u>so</u> <u>resistant</u>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Let alone understand why Colton was distancing himself away. He </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">just</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ready</u> <i style="font-weight: bold;">to face it</i>. Colton <i style="font-weight: bold;"><u>didn't</u></i><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">want</u> to accept that Cassie wanted to break up with him. <i style="font-weight: bold;">If Colton had Cassie</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">he wouldn't have to </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">FACE</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> himself</i>. Sadly, it was<b><u> REAL</u>!</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They posted their statements <u>together</u> while <u style="font-style: italic;">FaceTiming</u> with each other. They <u>both</u> cried. Colton <u>understood</u> where Cassie was coming from, but he wasn't one who hung a relationship on the public clothesline for <u>all</u> to comment on. Colton let time pass and when he got back to L.A., he called Cassie and asked her out for dinner. Afterward, she went back over to Colton's place and had a few drinks, hung out and went to Colton/Cassie again for the rest of the night. After they woke up in the morning, Colton could <u>tell</u> things were different. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Outside of what Colton stated </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">previously</u>. He had the <u style="font-weight: bold;">urge</u> to <u>say</u> he loved her before she walked out the door; he <u>sensed</u> she did too. Colton's heart was <b><u>BROKEN</u>!</b> Cassie <u style="font-weight: bold;">stated</u> that she loved Colton . . . but she wasn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">love</u> with love. She followed her heart. . . .<b><i>As did Colton. . . </i></b>They <u>truly</u> loved each other <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u>. What they did find was sweet, tender, beautiful, <u style="font-weight: bold;">heartbreaking</u> <b><u>&</u> <u>REALLY</u> <u>EYE</u>-<u>OPENING</u>!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuO2qJ-IgDOUUOodlLKlGB7D-vZ7AMRbUf0tSCYyE3JCpymnaivExGD6URpycRmoWWFPuJMYyLZualByMqvzyw0JYzUMwrArWcdyH8RSHHivUy4wSLzH9UlcP7GyMyL7ye8aZ5CmelSJqMb7_ggqVE9CzvEi9v388DuvqS0dF4UypfQajBEJAlP2aig/s400/jzXk0hNr_400x400.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuO2qJ-IgDOUUOodlLKlGB7D-vZ7AMRbUf0tSCYyE3JCpymnaivExGD6URpycRmoWWFPuJMYyLZualByMqvzyw0JYzUMwrArWcdyH8RSHHivUy4wSLzH9UlcP7GyMyL7ye8aZ5CmelSJqMb7_ggqVE9CzvEi9v388DuvqS0dF4UypfQajBEJAlP2aig/w200-h200/jzXk0hNr_400x400.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Falling in love is like open-heart surgery. Breaking up is like seeing your heart in someone else's hands and realizing the anesthesia has worn off. The pain is excruciating. Why? Because <b><u>Hurt</u> <u>HURTS</u>!</b> Colton took time to <u style="font-weight: bold;">process</u>. He could be <u style="font-weight: bold;">tough</u>, but he bruises easily, and Colton <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> <u>begin</u> to <b><u>HEAL</u>!</b> Career wise, Colton spent pre/post-quarantine hosting an internet talk show that allowed him to be on-camera comfortably by doing <u style="font-style: italic;">Coffee With Colton</u> engaging in conversations with people about their passions and <b><u>IDENTITY</u>!</b> Whatever Colton does, he wants to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWN</u> for quality, <u style="font-weight: bold;">honesty</u>, human and a good time. Henceforth, leading Colton to <u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">himself</u> and his <b><u>OWN</u> <u>TRUTH</u>!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We all have pre-existing scars. Colton spent 2 years on TV. Lying at times. <b><u>Ashamed</u></b> and <u>hiding</u>. But, what he found , what America got to see was that Colton couldn't go another day to let people <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u> who he was. To hear more, and the <u style="font-weight: bold;">FULL</u> story from Colton's mouth himself. . . . he speaks his <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEART</u><span style="font-weight: bold;">-<u>WRENCHING</u></span> <b><u>TRUTH</u> </b>in the <u style="font-style: italic;">Netflix</u> series, <u style="font-style: italic;">Coming Out Colton</u>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyhmXfTMmPlUeQQ0uZN47kjX5U4SksB9o__l3Y3CrNsBa0fU9sPPOGmxSwMhDKPa_Dc5oe4tRFyAE4rIBkNSg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Since this book's publication and coming out,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kVof0gzZ9JJflFYNHF4KO6pCelQ0UF4_IxL1K--I0dLiKupfI0ML6wv6ZjeqmTrETs287ar6ue71IfTtomnmLyVD3TLxjvg_WBUcHb4680O5dXzf-l4zvg14Fp0Uuvjs1O2tFlpguH9QI4ZvHq3UHVF_lxS93ibFySW8k8Sa7nUPIDDbBmVOHqa0ZA/s1024/2022-Beyond-The-Edge-cast-2-1024x1024.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4kVof0gzZ9JJflFYNHF4KO6pCelQ0UF4_IxL1K--I0dLiKupfI0ML6wv6ZjeqmTrETs287ar6ue71IfTtomnmLyVD3TLxjvg_WBUcHb4680O5dXzf-l4zvg14Fp0Uuvjs1O2tFlpguH9QI4ZvHq3UHVF_lxS93ibFySW8k8Sa7nUPIDDbBmVOHqa0ZA/s320/2022-Beyond-The-Edge-cast-2-1024x1024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Colton has gotten engaged to his fiance, Jordan Brown, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">actively</u> participated in the <u style="font-style: italic;">CBS</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u> wilderness competition show, <u style="font-style: italic;">Beyond The Edge</u>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div></span></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YR2aVTT2VecJSApoxkYCe918PVM6eoPNg6T6WpydyKZcIlRfUMUzqR6F2l-KfmG0iibnO7bo8r8uw2LQ8lTKNsqzxn1GOtMt0axh1Ij_2EHMtpionBCs-U9cdzgm-YWKAIAJg8LOTyGNF6YcCATsZp8ECgnZNabEjWy7AqYqn903t9-skq_2byKfMQ/s2000/colton-underwood-jordan-brown-80.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YR2aVTT2VecJSApoxkYCe918PVM6eoPNg6T6WpydyKZcIlRfUMUzqR6F2l-KfmG0iibnO7bo8r8uw2LQ8lTKNsqzxn1GOtMt0axh1Ij_2EHMtpionBCs-U9cdzgm-YWKAIAJg8LOTyGNF6YcCATsZp8ECgnZNabEjWy7AqYqn903t9-skq_2byKfMQ/w640-h426/colton-underwood-jordan-brown-80.webp" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colton & Jordan Brown</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-48867029356617252162022-01-17T15:40:00.002-08:002022-01-17T15:57:01.566-08:00All Of It Is You<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCcKI5ai46vmJcvQn_2kkWpd_ci_xAQJtGcXEiOhDBugyei01rJjycTZe3HA-WeHeQbc0WKi3mFxzSFe924hSOZSOYVrE9tAiX-4gY09RSt7G6c3hVm0WUNdJ-EMfXL-ZFF5CAo7aWRGUmQlMlRt3bTdRe8Yen6dJ6LJHkkjcASSU6dp3X8vSx6ug8Wg=s2175" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2175" data-original-width="1538" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCcKI5ai46vmJcvQn_2kkWpd_ci_xAQJtGcXEiOhDBugyei01rJjycTZe3HA-WeHeQbc0WKi3mFxzSFe924hSOZSOYVrE9tAiX-4gY09RSt7G6c3hVm0WUNdJ-EMfXL-ZFF5CAo7aWRGUmQlMlRt3bTdRe8Yen6dJ6LJHkkjcASSU6dp3X8vSx6ug8Wg=w283-h400" width="283" /></a></div>This next book was written by a <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">influential</u> man. One whom, with his writing has given access to his mind. This book sets an array of world into motion with this <u>debut</u> of publication. This book is about <u style="font-weight: bold;">CONNECTION</u>. From a man whom stands out and <u style="font-weight: bold;">makes</u> himself <u style="font-weight: bold;">STAND</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OUT</u>, this book is a collection of essays detailing <u>just</u> <u>that</u>....connection. From the man whom is an advocate and <u style="font-weight: bold;">STANDS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UP</u> for his beliefs, this book takes you on a journey on how <u>all</u> <u>of</u> <u>it</u> <u>is</u> <u>you</u>. Here are the writings inside the mind of Nico Tortorella.<p></p><p>To start, this book is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALEST</u> thing that Nico has ever created. It represents more of him than <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> he has ever put into fruition. Nico knows where he stands in the lots of <u style="font-weight: bold;">ICONS</u> that came before him. Nico knows his place. His greatest insecurity has always been his own intelligence. Nico ponders it himself of what of him makes him matter? You can shed and expose yourself. But, let people know your inner workings; people <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u> you. Nico writes the same as he does in life; raw, loving, engaging, curious. Nico begins to understand his <u>own</u> privilege based on gender, what he looks like, where he came from, socioeconomic status, and the color of his skin. Nico <u style="font-weight: bold;">sees</u> his privilege as a <u>universal</u> voice of <u>understanding</u> for a generation, a <u>positive</u> outlet for a movement, and a source of light in even the <b><u>darkest</u> </b>of times.</p><p>This book is split into 3 sections; body, earth, universe. This book will take you on a journey through human life and connection to the world around us. This book becomes a transformational journey. It is <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONORABLE</u> to be a work in progress. Not everything resonates, but it is <u style="font-weight: bold;">PERSONAL</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>! All Of It Is You. Therein lies the cover of this book. It says it <b><u>ALL</u>!</b> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjvYOf03-7efB3IgkJDi5y3NOKxLKFrN9vbpVfwBlL9K_CU3xuWOBlNMOWe5I8KuK9MooOdwiL5KGQUhiI-8km4N3M_AYAr7Lz30sD2VrNm3m7odvSGEsS84_TPU21XsQqu5GiD7J6RNnglWnJcoRLb-Arr7YMOsvjce4szKtnl018NT8rVCDwbNUsTQ=s400" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="339" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjvYOf03-7efB3IgkJDi5y3NOKxLKFrN9vbpVfwBlL9K_CU3xuWOBlNMOWe5I8KuK9MooOdwiL5KGQUhiI-8km4N3M_AYAr7Lz30sD2VrNm3m7odvSGEsS84_TPU21XsQqu5GiD7J6RNnglWnJcoRLb-Arr7YMOsvjce4szKtnl018NT8rVCDwbNUsTQ=s320" width="271" /></a></div>Your name says <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>about you. Labled into legacy. Nico Luigi Tortorella. Nico came from his mother's maiden name, Niconiconico. Italian for fish and his father's Tortorella turtle dove. His name lands from fishes and birds. A real man is a woman who wears part of himself on the outside for the world to see. When you see your family, you <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> the connection. A piece of them is in you and outwardly vice-versa. We are all connected in the great circle of life.<p></p><div>The heart is <u>so</u> <u>easy</u> to break yet <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">harden</u>. You could be fined and toned and <u>still</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u> not good enough. With a broken wing in your stomach it still sings and it needs to fly. The voice inside your head is <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOUDEST</u> to hear. <u>Listen</u>. If you want to know someone's life...just look at their hands.</div><div><br /></div><div>The only difference between an ass and a Stallion is the way you hold yourself. Sometimes I'm a hardass or a smartass, either way I'm an asshole. So, screw you!</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZIsW5gq_5UGIoS3uiS2ihmMjroj8_w2xCuI6EG-_f1v6kxVoPf9MgJ5ClnDOq7K4Qg-yf_tPJ6S-Gh9vSNMZh5Pu-BC71P6-a2lM0isgLTJNDRiOLfphxkA9bABU5-_nM9Eh1UX3hbCs_X7pSe7yfIA3dOTLYRhnNo-rrWOEh8bQxgc72AVFTDv4Omw=s619" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="619" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZIsW5gq_5UGIoS3uiS2ihmMjroj8_w2xCuI6EG-_f1v6kxVoPf9MgJ5ClnDOq7K4Qg-yf_tPJ6S-Gh9vSNMZh5Pu-BC71P6-a2lM0isgLTJNDRiOLfphxkA9bABU5-_nM9Eh1UX3hbCs_X7pSe7yfIA3dOTLYRhnNo-rrWOEh8bQxgc72AVFTDv4Omw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>At the end of the day, Nico would rather <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> than <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>. Sweat is your body's cry. Sweating the outside means ALOT on the inside. Sleep, in of itself, whilst does recharge the body. . .it also takes in the day to prepare for the next. Your identity is part of expressing yourself. Express your identity and paint with your own colors. When you hate, the only person who suffers is you...most of the people you hate don't know it. Others don't care. - Medgar Evers.</div><div>It's one thing to try and experiment with drugs; if you don't like it the first time, why do it again? You tried it...tasted it...hated it...why do it again when you know better?</div><div><br /></div><div>Nico said it best...water like people are great when they sparkle...but don't be thirsty. Love is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">UNIVERSAL</u> language. Why waste <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">sacred</u> life simply surviving? <u style="font-weight: bold;">Make</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">something</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi65yL_ohZwlfgI5SX9os8_Gza7pOwh_JcLMkBcbt_es_BA0S9Mc5ofAIHEWODPGkjBwJZsoLuo5bAD1dqj1Tx8n7-dcduvYtj7_ok7RqGEMP81dMU7CicUou6C1_dmGFL2nAztsAfF2S4uJykDsWNypklVzHhN2t3EPVNM47up4-7KGUSbGsrcaE5UDw=s850" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="850" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi65yL_ohZwlfgI5SX9os8_Gza7pOwh_JcLMkBcbt_es_BA0S9Mc5ofAIHEWODPGkjBwJZsoLuo5bAD1dqj1Tx8n7-dcduvYtj7_ok7RqGEMP81dMU7CicUou6C1_dmGFL2nAztsAfF2S4uJykDsWNypklVzHhN2t3EPVNM47up4-7KGUSbGsrcaE5UDw=w400-h189" width="400" /></a></div>Like ashes from the fire....I Rise. - Maya Angelou. When you feel an energetic connection...you feel <b><u>INFINITE</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Let there be light and take in the day. Time is of the essence. What you do with it matters. Take in the spring air, take a deep breath. Out with the old...in with the new. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSzk1NnzpVsFrcuk05LB3X0ddr_qtzJj2NLJ4u4iTjuk2kw6N79YIZao-HuCSxYa5VELXBiGR-3snYqQ3X4xtH9uS3a7nZ5SeeNlHEFGkrzEpbzDnIOVWrffcP1AEIH87mIw0zqRdiI50DdR6fLcckT5y_xBPUMndew5uNs-fmJigMce9cEkvLGodETg=s2730" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2730" data-original-width="2088" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSzk1NnzpVsFrcuk05LB3X0ddr_qtzJj2NLJ4u4iTjuk2kw6N79YIZao-HuCSxYa5VELXBiGR-3snYqQ3X4xtH9uS3a7nZ5SeeNlHEFGkrzEpbzDnIOVWrffcP1AEIH87mIw0zqRdiI50DdR6fLcckT5y_xBPUMndew5uNs-fmJigMce9cEkvLGodETg=s320" width="245" /></a></div>Fall in of itself has 2 names. Fall and Autumn. We are all created equal. That is what folks are fighting for. Remember we came from one. This book speaks <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOUD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">VOLUMES</u> on the way the world <b><u>IS</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>This book does not just make you think. It will <b><u>MAKE</u> <u>YOU</u> <u>THINK</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOc0r0fsbpJ1wjFT9wZ7chAwOjvueoRxKJbmk-BR0OP7xW_Xw6gZ-JOKB1E2gcXmnTV63LbGx9mAFGx02BrVMDRGLez4KN99i_HorAtxuNnjy6eZwaCcrJbj41EgV005FK_Y2DihQaT1ogrypkETnZLqRZLhkzIw_FXQ-Qv2PzLmztqjosSfF5jS6l4w=s900" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="900" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOc0r0fsbpJ1wjFT9wZ7chAwOjvueoRxKJbmk-BR0OP7xW_Xw6gZ-JOKB1E2gcXmnTV63LbGx9mAFGx02BrVMDRGLez4KN99i_HorAtxuNnjy6eZwaCcrJbj41EgV005FK_Y2DihQaT1ogrypkETnZLqRZLhkzIw_FXQ-Qv2PzLmztqjosSfF5jS6l4w=w400-h283" width="400" /></a></div>All of our astrological signs <u style="font-weight: bold;">connect</u> us all. Life and the universe connect us <u>All</u>. <b><u>ALL</u></b> <b><u>of</u></b> <b><u>it</u></b> <b><u>is</u></b> <b><u>in</u></b> <b><u>you</u></b>.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-65309067707424847982022-01-05T21:00:00.000-08:002022-01-06T18:57:46.259-08:00Be A Work In Progress: And Other Things I'd Like To Tell My Younger Self<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzrNeCV4WnjWfFzO61yUnyAZURGKFM1zm3LLIrbYXVmF9TP0C8KKk4cfWGfAu6wb-MRMsSmkvTz8BQdEI7sKKXI0hL-ukOIsHoxDfPvEx_0bbm3VVqwr0U36JaZItyel09zbadfOgc13-xEshhmIDm6yk-DXYo_hLjidpY40nnQfvD5LPIyro1kaWlpA=s450" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzrNeCV4WnjWfFzO61yUnyAZURGKFM1zm3LLIrbYXVmF9TP0C8KKk4cfWGfAu6wb-MRMsSmkvTz8BQdEI7sKKXI0hL-ukOIsHoxDfPvEx_0bbm3VVqwr0U36JaZItyel09zbadfOgc13-xEshhmIDm6yk-DXYo_hLjidpY40nnQfvD5LPIyro1kaWlpA=w266-h400" width="266" /></a></div>To begin this brand-new 2022 year, I thought I would begin this blog with a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">jolt</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">POSITIVITY</u>! Spread <u style="font-weight: bold;">positivity</u> and a message of <u style="font-weight: bold;">hope</u> from someone whom <u style="font-weight: bold;">LIVES</u> his life with an <u>attitude</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATITUDE</u>! This book is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">personal</u> reflection from a <u style="font-weight: bold;">POSITIVE</u> outlook. From the man whom has the track record to <u style="font-weight: bold;">PROVE</u> it, this is a <u>heartfelt</u> and <u>hopeful</u> testament from one who <u style="font-weight: bold;">DOESN'T</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FORGET</u> where he comes from. Being open-minded and being <u style="font-weight: bold;">OPEN</u> to every opportunity. Speaking with <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEART</u>, here is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">boldness</u> from the <u style="font-weight: bold;">pure</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">heart</u> man himself, John Felix Anthony Cena.<p></p><p>John is <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> and considers it a <u style="font-weight: bold;">PRIVILEGE</u> to even have a public platform. So, he decided to use <u style="font-style: italic;">Twitter</u> as a way to reach out to people and be <u>direct</u> with people. John hopes to <u>provoke</u> conversation about <u style="font-weight: bold;">IMPORTANT</u> things we might shy away from. That is whom John <u>strives</u> to be as a human. <u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">A</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GOOD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PERSON</u> whom is <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACCEPTING</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYONE</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MATTER</u> the indifferences.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKcmxbdUM1WmKz6yaLrN_-w0cAc-wO93rCzhyCjZ9jTJYTX6aq7IWZcgjX_RYfG05jZJ_jkaaxrKLlO1J88iWQhb86R9Jm8K6_MG6ptLjf9_dfRfng98uHCkz_cv1wcl0FEB03T_FjQoLx8ZgUpaCcsaFLAmOzI25553A31LjCBI-Se_dQErZ-1UuCRQ=s480" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKcmxbdUM1WmKz6yaLrN_-w0cAc-wO93rCzhyCjZ9jTJYTX6aq7IWZcgjX_RYfG05jZJ_jkaaxrKLlO1J88iWQhb86R9Jm8K6_MG6ptLjf9_dfRfng98uHCkz_cv1wcl0FEB03T_FjQoLx8ZgUpaCcsaFLAmOzI25553A31LjCBI-Se_dQErZ-1UuCRQ=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></div><p>John sees it this way...if an experiment fails; so be it. He is just trying to bend the needle towards <u style="font-weight: bold;">MORE</u> <u>positivity</u>. In the world we live in, <u style="font-weight: bold;">especially</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">now</u>; given the status quo, John's hope is that words of <u style="font-weight: bold;">encouragement</u> can help us <u style="font-weight: bold;">stay</u> motivated and <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUSED</u> on what's <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY</u> important: Being <u style="font-weight: bold;">AUTHENTIC</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OPEN</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MINDED</u>, changing to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">BETTER</u>, being <u style="font-weight: bold;">comfortable</u> with the <u><b>un</b>comfortable</u>. <u>Embrace</u> opportunities and <b><u>NEVER</u> <u>GIVING</u> <u>UP</u>!</b></p><p><u style="font-weight: bold;">Be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">who</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">you</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">are</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">let</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">your</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">freak</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">flag</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fly</u><span> and <b><u>OWN</u> <u>IT</u>!</b></span></p><p><span>If you have obstacles; move around them that fits your board. Instead of having hate and throwing away the world around you, one thing people can do is <u style="font-weight: bold;">LISTEN</u> to each other. That is a way to make the world better in your group. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Overextending</u> yourself to help everyone helps <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u>! </span></p><p><span><u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> for the moment you have. <u style="font-weight: bold;">LIVE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MOMENT</u>! Shallow people are <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALWAYS</u> empty! </span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><u>Live</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">grounded</u>. <u>Love</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">gratefully</u>. <b><u>NEVER</u> <u>LOSE</u> <u>HOPE</u>! </b></p><p>There are <u style="font-weight: bold;">MANY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">VARIOUS</u> other <b><u>WISE</u> </b> words to <u style="font-weight: bold;">LIVE</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">BY</u> spoken by John in this book.</p><p>With a <u>small</u> book of this magnitude...it holds a <b><u>VERY</u> <u>POWERFUL</u> <u>POSTIVE</u> <u>PUNCH</u>!</b></p><p>Sometimes you need to see the <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEART</u> behind the head of people.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs6o3ISZC6wuLLTWQOZB4RWQz0HRu6aGMUqZBaNm9B8E1d9mEfpQjUK7QjZnQh2zk3U3o6ZhhEe6YrdiDEvxt9N26YqTmxFppqxR3N7ipJf1QWmpqJtONKaeIWDLuelVg3B8jAkuSGOGR8ZmGF6n2PTQdRlEiFHHGo78BT1RhDez932rs3pgnyUmuBDQ=s1315" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1315" data-original-width="1004" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs6o3ISZC6wuLLTWQOZB4RWQz0HRu6aGMUqZBaNm9B8E1d9mEfpQjUK7QjZnQh2zk3U3o6ZhhEe6YrdiDEvxt9N26YqTmxFppqxR3N7ipJf1QWmpqJtONKaeIWDLuelVg3B8jAkuSGOGR8ZmGF6n2PTQdRlEiFHHGo78BT1RhDez932rs3pgnyUmuBDQ=w488-h640" width="488" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_cc9M4FdH9qUst14uwU8PM0RuLcWOYCEjH3aVVFYiFk3bqkF6Bsdtp-SVPb-KbW_zuY3pS7rW6lssj64cwU9CZy6Ol5L3Rub8uA3F0aKBVcYeNVlNhHHAdoe28Qf5V4rC9_ZWe7EDdpycAVFtsEesOYX06fLpCPqRKncXO8mMHhLokVE7lkylh9R6ag=s250" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="250" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_cc9M4FdH9qUst14uwU8PM0RuLcWOYCEjH3aVVFYiFk3bqkF6Bsdtp-SVPb-KbW_zuY3pS7rW6lssj64cwU9CZy6Ol5L3Rub8uA3F0aKBVcYeNVlNhHHAdoe28Qf5V4rC9_ZWe7EDdpycAVFtsEesOYX06fLpCPqRKncXO8mMHhLokVE7lkylh9R6ag=w400-h371" width="400" /></a></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-72285586302872451352021-12-30T02:00:00.002-08:002021-12-31T00:27:22.548-08:00End Of 2021<p>To Whom It May Concern,</p><p>For anyone whom has checked out, seen, or commented or learned <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANYTHING</u> from this blog, I sincerely <b><u>THANK</u> <u>YOU</u>! </b> To those whom that follow, I would like to apologize for the short array of material. The only way I can explain for my shortcomings was that life happens while you're busy making other plans. - John Lennon</p><p><br /></p><p>While this year is <u style="font-weight: bold;">slowly</u> picking itself up, as am I. So, I hope you will continue to embrace me throughout this 2022 year. So, Stay tuned.</p><p><br /></p><p>Thanks.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHP79KH54aEyoqLhewYd9X7sSV8PRWe0JaVRdJ0BsztMbiZ3_qrN34WQs0Cxh7E6YQCYIDaC2-0FoUEGhW1vbQD_PATwac0p0z6fRErGSQynE_NA0yH41CrBpDJzhWqLvJqj8DnuU8lunI98NcciytLgavqvlEHSsrUmtJ--thAbRIP85mLL8jYDZtIQ=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHP79KH54aEyoqLhewYd9X7sSV8PRWe0JaVRdJ0BsztMbiZ3_qrN34WQs0Cxh7E6YQCYIDaC2-0FoUEGhW1vbQD_PATwac0p0z6fRErGSQynE_NA0yH41CrBpDJzhWqLvJqj8DnuU8lunI98NcciytLgavqvlEHSsrUmtJ--thAbRIP85mLL8jYDZtIQ=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-32627240759377558552021-12-17T15:30:00.001-08:002021-12-17T15:37:49.911-08:00DKMH<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXxbPrNXpF9gc6jhw012oJj-QgBXEIxsydj6YU4sCG2TLtDeoudVTMEukT1FmFDsUSZ7WRXn8q8Iqr3gvXOjvhHUCrkloSlN00YPrNxzueharmZgQBBl-k8NXoOs1DzOs69wrx3nLLqpM/s2048/book+coer.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXxbPrNXpF9gc6jhw012oJj-QgBXEIxsydj6YU4sCG2TLtDeoudVTMEukT1FmFDsUSZ7WRXn8q8Iqr3gvXOjvhHUCrkloSlN00YPrNxzueharmZgQBBl-k8NXoOs1DzOs69wrx3nLLqpM/w200-h320/book+coer.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>This book which would close out this 2021 year is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">magnificent</u> work of art. From the heart and manifested into the world, here is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> display of <u style="font-weight: bold;">ART</u> in one of its <u style="font-weight: bold;">RAREST</u> forms. Speaking with a hint of biographical touch, this tells the story of putting mind to power. . .and power to pen. This <u style="font-weight: bold;">gifted</u> Sir is one whom is proving his power. From his Australian roots to the pages of this book, here is/are the collective writing(s) of the cool, bad-ass himself; <u>D</u>acre <u>K</u>ayd <u>M</u>ontgomery-<u>H</u>arvey.<p></p><p>The smoky cover of this book has a flavor that gets in your eye. Dacre has always had a <u>softness</u> to the emotional <u style="font-weight: bold;">intensity</u> to the world. Both in positive/negative ways. Taking in <u style="font-weight: bold;">harder</u> with the smaller things. Dacre suffered from <u style="font-weight: bold;">heightened</u> anxiety. What he would run from would become his saving grace. When he was younger, Dacre <u>lacked</u> work ethic. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> active in exercise or sports. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> independence to explore what he felt.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDG0wG48KGDaPlGXkNzdOTLw5xPRhrHboEknu3xgcBjn_fZ_UD2aNZLn_OaeE6URaIFxkwA7g4-K3IS4iIbHMFMWyRbAP3IXbd4F57XCVSHUKTMxrwHDkXUKCEfYnkPM7m92r4pKCZQe9/s644/young+dacre.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="644" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDG0wG48KGDaPlGXkNzdOTLw5xPRhrHboEknu3xgcBjn_fZ_UD2aNZLn_OaeE6URaIFxkwA7g4-K3IS4iIbHMFMWyRbAP3IXbd4F57XCVSHUKTMxrwHDkXUKCEfYnkPM7m92r4pKCZQe9/w320-h160/young+dacre.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Dacre was a late bloomer. At 17, he discovered alcohol and partying - An outlet he deemed useful. What became an outlet turned into a repeated cycle. What alcohol treated for anxiety soon became a dimming light for him. While others chased the feeling of ecstasy through multiple <u>negative</u> outlets. Dacre always felt the feeling without the aid of substances. In school; music, architecture, film and design would ripple his skin, giving him goosebumps. This could be his next <u>positive</u> <u><b>high</b></u>. Replace a negative with a positive. <p></p><div>Though epiphanies would not come daily until he was older, Dacre felt as though he had a bottomless pit of passion. He would lock himself in his room and binge film after film. He would <u>largely</u> line his childhood through cinema escapism. . .Not realizing he was creating his own manifestations. His imagination ran <u style="font-weight: bold;">wild</u> and needed to be harnessed. Use his overactive energy as a child and <u>direct</u> it into something <u>productive</u> as an adult. Dacre's O.C.D. manifested itself into his own <u>meticulously</u> cleaning house. Although his O.C.D. was dysfunctional, Dacre began to set goals and work out. Fueling his energies <u>that</u> <u>way</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61XixhmlHrHgYeMS8ONDCKmdnaqMkwuIlbtrQaE2kdqEcSmProYgVgXpHpNg_dfRlmb6FOKNi6TN9dX8a-kl7Xwz6Xlm_Fs7KAX7uqCfnJiSuvVKyM66cfJm4234RmizoHkdsIb65LoF_/s512/bhg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="341" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg61XixhmlHrHgYeMS8ONDCKmdnaqMkwuIlbtrQaE2kdqEcSmProYgVgXpHpNg_dfRlmb6FOKNi6TN9dX8a-kl7Xwz6Xlm_Fs7KAX7uqCfnJiSuvVKyM66cfJm4234RmizoHkdsIb65LoF_/s320/bhg.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>When Dacre first fell in love, he fell <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u>. (<i>I can </i><b style="font-style: italic;"><u>personally</u> <u>&</u> <u>COMPLETELY</u> <u>understand</u></b><i> where Dacre is coming from. I've been in his shoes. Falling in love for the </i><u style="font-style: italic;">first</u><i> time. . . you </i><b><u style="font-style: italic;">FALL</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">HARD</u>!</b>) You obsess over your first love. . .what newbie doesn't? Well, Dacre obsesses over <b><u>EVERYTHING</u>!</b> His first love brought fire and Dacre raged on and eventually burned. Melancholy hit <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> and sentimentality grew <b><u>DEEP</u>!</b> (<i>We've all </i><u style="font-style: italic;">personally</u><i> been there. . .which speaks </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">loudly</u><i> with his role as Nick in </i><u style="font-style: italic;">The Broken Hearts Gallery</u>.) <b><u>Love</u> <u>Hurts</u>!</b> When Dacre <u style="font-weight: bold;">FEELS</u> it....he uses it in his work. When you feel a <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> HIGH...you're hit even <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARDER</u> when you're <b><u>DOWN</u>!</b> Dacre had never written a thing before. . .so, poetry had a way of injecting itself in Dacre's world. Poetry, in of itself, is its own reward. Reading scripts have taught Dacre about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">POWER</u> of words. Each day, Dacre went to the <u>same</u> coffee shop and <u style="font-weight: bold;">learned</u> the art of the <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> language. Little did he know it at the time, this was to become another coping mechanism. Dacre had to find his <u>RIGHT</u> footing. How was he going to dispel the words in which he held upon himself to be released? Not long after waiting for the words to fall. . . they rained on him.</div><div><br /></div><div>After a first date, which seemed like fate, Dacre came home. Nights passed on. Late one afternoon. . . Dacre began something. A journey that <u>hasn't</u> <u>stopped</u> since. Shooting straight like a rocket and never looking back. Dacre began to <u style="font-weight: bold;">write</u> using what tools he has to his disposal and off he went. . That night, the words poured out as he was shedding layers of himself. He felt somewhat "<i>bipolar</i>" due to being <u>one</u> person and becoming an <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DIFFERENT</u> person when he wrote. <b><i>It's <u>understandable</u>. You become <u>entranced</u> with </i>FOCUS</b>. The imagery that Dacre paints/writes with are written with the colors in which <u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u> sees. <u>His</u> colors of the wind.</div><div><br /></div><div>You <u style="font-weight: bold;">can't</u> just <u>write</u>. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> come from within <u style="font-weight: bold;">YOU</u>! Tap into yourself until the word's well runs dry. This book, therein of itself, is Dacre's magnum opus. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">has</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">affect</u> him. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FEEL</u> It! These poems are moments in his life. Defining moments. Moments in which he took note of. This <u style="font-weight: bold;">isn't</u> work to be diminished or tossed aside.. This book is <b><u>PERSONAL</u></b> to Dacre. Make do with it what you will. Let your <u style="font-weight: bold;">heart</u> and <b><u>conscious</u></b> be your guide.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sound has always been Dacre's driving force. He compartmentalized music into 3 variants:</div><div>Music that <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWS</u> him: <i>Nick Drake's </i><i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Bryter Layter</i>. </div><div>Music that <u style="font-weight: bold;">FEEDS</u> him: <i>John Martyn's </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Solid Air</u>. </div><div>Music that <u style="font-weight: bold;">SOFTENS</u> him: <u style="font-style: italic;">Getz</u><i>/</i><u style="font-style: italic;">Gilberto</u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>We become the past and the present at the <u>same</u> time. In the twilight of our lives, we become storytellers. The all-wise. The mature. Painted no color, but neutral. We are relaxed. We are softened. We made it. We Are Human. - DKMH</div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizMTz2XTyjiSwx6gAe7Bqo_dlWmKp1uEZ08LoCjVzsBianX--Ijtc8tiN0cozC19IajpEjIU6hIWOaAlCqcaH0e0Kow3NhPLH8qBc0aG5TSyQ3C2gVq3prJkzfYEX40CCCYSwuZSCrOIdMe9WGQXGXVCg68NIL2ECrKjbIXrKyXW4e9oawgiYFAucwLA=s1300" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="975" data-original-width="1300" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizMTz2XTyjiSwx6gAe7Bqo_dlWmKp1uEZ08LoCjVzsBianX--Ijtc8tiN0cozC19IajpEjIU6hIWOaAlCqcaH0e0Kow3NhPLH8qBc0aG5TSyQ3C2gVq3prJkzfYEX40CCCYSwuZSCrOIdMe9WGQXGXVCg68NIL2ECrKjbIXrKyXW4e9oawgiYFAucwLA=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shattered glass</td></tr></tbody></table>There are writings of Dacre's that set themselves apart to make you <b><u>THINK</u>!</b> The incandescent drawings just <u style="font-weight: bold;">MESH</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WELL</u> w/ the spoken verbage that Dacre is speaking. When it comes to love, Dacre sees it better to try than to live with <u style="font-style: italic;">What If</u>'<i>s</i> in love. Dacre's words are just <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEAUTIFUL</u> and you just get lost in them. Some times <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">you</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> is <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u> to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">clearly</u>. Other times you have to say <b><u>FUCK</u> <u>IT</u> <u>ALL</u>!</b> <u style="font-weight: bold;"><i>ANXIETY</i></u> can <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shatter</u> you like glass. <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">ANXIETY</i> that wakes you in the night. It rattles throughout you in <u style="font-weight: bold;">endless</u> streams. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYcfVeKaIsiGO7BvTWxTRCmAYS5kEKeLgKCfjqluGvYhd_4RsU85h-w_ed9t74UJ9njDV8blhjHpaWTuvMeYew8x-Xredw4Su9tfLWdmCW_nQ6A8DllZv3qoeHjVZ4xx6Kuq2Na-SNmPjn2VewisGB_-EwWHYMzAf3kw05Y4cK9jQz8YKa7DYKXAXmNA=s275" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYcfVeKaIsiGO7BvTWxTRCmAYS5kEKeLgKCfjqluGvYhd_4RsU85h-w_ed9t74UJ9njDV8blhjHpaWTuvMeYew8x-Xredw4Su9tfLWdmCW_nQ6A8DllZv3qoeHjVZ4xx6Kuq2Na-SNmPjn2VewisGB_-EwWHYMzAf3kw05Y4cK9jQz8YKa7DYKXAXmNA=s16000" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Justin Taylor</td></tr></tbody></table>Silence, therein of itself, is <b><u>loudly</u></b> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">deafening</b> with <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> to <b><u>HEAR</u> <u>YOU</u>!</b> You're drowning in your own dreams. It has to <u style="font-weight: bold;">HURT</u> in order to <u style="font-weight: bold;">FEEL</u> it. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u> is in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">hurt</u>. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">hurt</u> is in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">want</u>. - Justin Taylor</div><div><br /></div><div>There is <u style="font-weight: bold;">MORE</u> than a <u>beautiful</u> face. There's a <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEXY</u> mind that comes with it. He's not just a pretty face. There is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">BRAIN</u> behind the beauty. <u style="font-weight: bold;">LISTEN</u> to the world around you!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This therein lies the lessons learned from <u>D</u>acre <u>K</u>ayd <u>M</u>ontgomery-<u>H</u>arvey.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dacre's poetry is an expression of what <u>drives</u> him, what <u><i>scares</i></u> him. what gets him <u>UP</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Thank You, Dacre.</i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigMzSwfHfsePh_JYUHm_9OvPS2exQSR8tdsUQfChMpUZK9fFWcZoe7t-dvnyTeuH9YYL4tm3TtVAIay8wJAwyPu7zX4DlDf6a4-MfJfmMrNTON9Jk7-uWmgfrQWAcTZG5MGB5gVWkwlSmsMhCAqORY7S4EHDxUc2i0cXuw3bCYy6EQBTyzRxAfR_kVsQ=s390" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="340" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigMzSwfHfsePh_JYUHm_9OvPS2exQSR8tdsUQfChMpUZK9fFWcZoe7t-dvnyTeuH9YYL4tm3TtVAIay8wJAwyPu7zX4DlDf6a4-MfJfmMrNTON9Jk7-uWmgfrQWAcTZG5MGB5gVWkwlSmsMhCAqORY7S4EHDxUc2i0cXuw3bCYy6EQBTyzRxAfR_kVsQ=w174-h200" width="174" /></a></div></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-45517250217711134682021-12-08T20:53:00.000-08:002021-12-08T20:53:46.619-08:00Boy Erased<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUhAwxzq9LCrAGffVopES5hPSGRvAxX-YDCwPlYejI3df6mAts3OH_qbob3_4XdJ6sts9d5nRvpBEtt8yqc2Rb9ky-REceVx6_qL30geaxTZkvdr_YX5MvRsuq5XNtWKo7LMAmpneAxfw/s445/boy+erased.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="295" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfUhAwxzq9LCrAGffVopES5hPSGRvAxX-YDCwPlYejI3df6mAts3OH_qbob3_4XdJ6sts9d5nRvpBEtt8yqc2Rb9ky-REceVx6_qL30geaxTZkvdr_YX5MvRsuq5XNtWKo7LMAmpneAxfw/s320/boy+erased.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><div>This new book while <u style="font-weight: bold;">proves</u> that love conquers all. It also <u style="font-weight: bold;">SHOWS</u> how <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARD</u> it is to <u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">YOURSELF</u>! While <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACCEPTANCE</u> is something we <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> deserve. . .sometimes it's <u style="font-weight: bold;">JUST</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EASY</u>. While this is about accepting your child, it's also about accepting yourself. This is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> story of empathy and forgiveness. While this is Gerrard's story...this is also a story where you <u style="font-weight: bold;">CAN'T</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HELP</u> to put yourself within this family's shoes. This is the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> story of Gerrard Clayton Conley.</div><div><br /></div>This place, L.I.A. (<i><u>L</u>ove-<u>I</u>n-<u>A</u>ction</i>) was the type of locale designed to befit resisting your urges' similar one would feel when trying to quit drinking or gambling. The first thing to do is recognize your dependency on sex. The sins of fidelity related to homosexuality or "<i>sexual deviancy</i>". Garrard was 19 when he went to L.I.A. This place would "<i>cure</i>" him and make him "<i>right</i>" with the Lord. Garrard waited for the show to get on the road, he wondered its wait time. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">longer</u> he <u>waited</u>. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">longer</u> it <u>took</u>. Whilst Garrard was there <u>of</u> <u>his</u> <u><b>own</b></u> <u>accord</u>, he felt he had longly awaited to join his family in the light than hide in the dark.<p></p><p>Listening along with the others on the status of "ex-gay" lingo becoming a familiarity to him. Learning that the homosexuality he had been trying to ignore was "out of control" and wind-up becoming a form of beastiality. Garrard had <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">little</u> to go on. He was still young enough to have only a few fleeting experiences with other men. Before college, he had only met <u>one</u> other gay person; his mother's hairdresser; one that Garrard seen as a stereotype around his own environment. As Garrard was feeling his emotions <u style="font-weight: bold;">inside</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> in the church could say he wasn't trying on the outside.</p><p>L.I.A. had taken a <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">extreme</u> stance against the secular world than any of the churches Garrard had grown-up in, though the counselor's way of thinking was not unfamiliar to him. The Conley family was missionary Baptist. <u>Straight</u> <u>&</u> <u>narrow</u> Baptist. Scripture running that Harry Potter was a seducer of children's souls. Garrard had no doubts that his L.I.A. counselors would shun the wizardry student, making him a private pleasure. Before entering L.I.A., Garrard had been told to cast everything aside <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> but his Bible and handbook.</p><p>Garrard had spent the last several months trying to erase his "<i>false personality</i>". Garrard had walked out of his college dorm one winter and <u>jumped</u> into the campus' half-frozen lake. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Shivering</u> but feeling re-baptized. Warming up with a hot shower hoping to be as <u>pure</u> as the water. During his stay at L.I.A., Garrard would repeat the prayer until it became kind of a mantra. The only thing Garrard remembered about the ride to the facility was looking around recording through the passenger window with few details remaining. It was early June. The location was more upscale than much of the rest of the city, part of a wealthier suburb, but the least of attractive places.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhBxMRfL7NXsRHfqOuam6486AGLdb0UADO-u6P1gJXyIOoF2UOov-tjSEHgbry4oWCNUMw61fT3TZ0PfratUIEgtp3BdmHINEMNGPYgx1fnretkuj6kRp81EaYCETgeXBiqbkXkHdz7Yk/s400/hampton+in.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="400" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhBxMRfL7NXsRHfqOuam6486AGLdb0UADO-u6P1gJXyIOoF2UOov-tjSEHgbry4oWCNUMw61fT3TZ0PfratUIEgtp3BdmHINEMNGPYgx1fnretkuj6kRp81EaYCETgeXBiqbkXkHdz7Yk/w200-h126/hampton+in.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>After entering the foyer and signing his name, Garrard was greeted by someone whom came across a video game connessuieur and used the game as analogies for L.I.A. practices. The Conley Family were <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> able to view the facility beforehand. Garrard was only to be in the 2 week program, with access to Garrard at all hours except program time (9A-5P). Evenings, nights, and early mornings Garrard would spend with his mother in a <u style="font-style: italic;">Hampton Inn & Suites</u> nearby, leaving the room only for necessities. A very detailed & regimented schedule followed. Then came learning a <u style="font-weight: bold;">thick</u> L.I.A. handbook and folder to learn. Garrard flipped though the pages randomly as his mother peered over his shoulder. Garrard wanted his mother to think of the best of this place before her departure. He wanted to quit prolonging the inevitable. Every time he realized there weren't other alternatives; Garrard felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u> for asking. He was asking to take things as they came.<div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_r3J17x94ElRCsNAHz3GmkssA168R6ag-SJ0cLJRzNS51Isfc4xxIl6UdVTnhh3GPURn0R5txXH-sXog1-s6LjGsjXsGMODJmuvBb9lOI_SyqXMrIklA6gPK27vbl9vwdGgPLryv3u_n/s1000/journal.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_r3J17x94ElRCsNAHz3GmkssA168R6ag-SJ0cLJRzNS51Isfc4xxIl6UdVTnhh3GPURn0R5txXH-sXog1-s6LjGsjXsGMODJmuvBb9lOI_SyqXMrIklA6gPK27vbl9vwdGgPLryv3u_n/s320/journal.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moleskine journal </td></tr></tbody></table>After their goodbyes, realizing the situation of goodbyes his mother was in, Garrard was reminded of the loss of his grandparents; his mother's parents, part of a necessary grieving process - difficult; but part of Nature's plan. Garrard was there taking among the facility's rules & regulations by someone a little older than himself. During the pat-down of his belongings, Garrard was asked of any phone numbers of any prior boyfriends? So openly of the term Garrard avoided due to a shameful desire to have one. Taking in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEP</u> sigh, he wasn't going to be taken down on his induction day. The <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">only</b> thing he didn't want to give up was his <u style="font-style: italic;">Moleskine</u> journal, which housed his short-stories. No Journaling was aloud due to becoming a distraction. After being <u><b>completely</b></u> checked-in came his first group therapy session. </div><div><br /></div><div>Most of those in the group were from the South, part of the Bible belt with <u>similar</u> stories. They had all been too afraid to fall though the cracks. <u>During</u> <u>this</u> <u>time</u> of the '90s, media scruntiny consumed of open homosexuality and AIDS. Garrard was there as part of <u style="font-style: italic;">The Source</u>, a 2-week trial period that determined what therapy Garrard would've acquired. Most of the staff were former patients of L.I.A. staff, along with his parents would determine what type of hiatus was necessary in his case. A <u>long</u> <u>&</u> <u>difficult</u> journey.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXPfXO4_CBOF992zTTBO-8KR_7-S9C5nqYDcW75mwVLZVYLtXZcun4eQqQJ0gxAME1BwUIeBEVV0jFZq3mMD2UZBo4JkXnTj2hinnQIi5aN4aoMz1SsBDFXOzin6GuhmjLVc34035xgfa/s630/wurthering+heights.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="436" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXPfXO4_CBOF992zTTBO-8KR_7-S9C5nqYDcW75mwVLZVYLtXZcun4eQqQJ0gxAME1BwUIeBEVV0jFZq3mMD2UZBo4JkXnTj2hinnQIi5aN4aoMz1SsBDFXOzin6GuhmjLVc34035xgfa/s320/wurthering+heights.jpg" /></a></div>Patients had a history of <u>several</u> suicide attempts with <u style="font-weight: bold;">whatever</u> they could use to their disposal. For <u>any</u> type of therapy, you have to <u style="font-weight: bold;">WANT</u> to change. Admitting you were wrong, powerless to change and suicide <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> an answer. All of God's children being <u>equal</u> and their names were interchangeable. Along with the abundance and reassurance of deviancy & religious persecution, this was their <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of shame; followed by the <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of Hell that was their <u>saving</u> <u>Grace</u> of suicidal completion. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">hearing</u> his story came a long-paused break to <u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> the group. Upon his return, Garrard was taking in the lessons while taking in those around him. A lesson was of your family tree in which was a genogram. Garrard spent time in his dorm room trying to chart the family history of <u style="font-style: italic;">Wuthering Heights</u> in his <i><u>Moleskine</u></i>. Silence was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nerve-wracking</u> for Garrard; whilst also wanting to <u>make</u> <u>an</u> <u>impression</u> on his fellow group members. The genogram showed <u>heredity</u> patterns & sinful <u>behaviors</u> in their families. Trauma is often linked to generational sin. Garrard recognized the lesson from one familiar in the Bible. Next came a prayer for <i><u>change</u></i>. Tracing their genealogy as far as they could go to point the sources of their sexuality. Was it an abusive father that caused his sexuality? Or his mom having a abortion prior to his birth? The Conley Family past was <b><u>tight</u>-<u>lipped</u> <u>&</u> <u>shut</u>!</b> But, through relaxing his thoughts, Garrard began to mentally dig down deep. Starting with the worst of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was hard to conjure a family tree out of an early childhood. Garrard's family life was <u style="font-weight: bold;">surrounded</u> by his father's calling to be a preacher. Garrard's father was the symbol of their town and community. In less than a week, Garrard and his mom; in the middle of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Source</u> program, planned to drive him from the L.I.A. facility to his father's ordination as a Missionary Baptist preacher. At the church, Garrard and his mother "<i>played the part</i>" from every corner of Arkansas and distill many of the complex issues that had recently began to plague their associations; including homosexuality. Everyone had been accustomed to poster exercises beginning with his family tree with the genogram of problems. It provided Garrard a sense of security to blame others coming <u>before</u> him. As he diagrammed his family tree with shapes & symbols, the genogram <u>began</u> <u>to</u> <u>make</u> <u>sense</u>. All of this confusion about who he was and why his life had led Garrard up to this momentum. He compiled it among the L.I.A. filing cabinets. The dialogue around the group was that the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIGGEST</u> sins skip a generation. Gerrard, along with the group, eyed the posters. Let the "<i>curing</i>" process begin.</div><div><br /></div><div>Garrard surveyed his half-finished genogram, trying to recall the sins of his fathers before him until time was up, afraid he had written something he <u style="font-weight: bold;">COULD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> erase. Something Garrard and his family and the other men liked to tell people about the Gospel: "<i>God has no time for anyone but a plain dealer. Speak your mind; and speak it clearly. There is no neutral.</i>" Working for his father as a car dealer each summer kept him at a respectable distance from the business of saving souls. At 18, Garrard hadn't actually performed any <u>actual</u> ministering duties. The unwritten and said-but-not-saying manual labor was becoming more "<i>masculine</i>" and "<i>manly</i>" Southerner. His workday companions consisted of his environment. But when it came to morning Bible study, jokes wouldn't save Garrard. He was an extension of his father. "<i>You are your father's son.</i>" Garrard always heard. Lunch breaks at a restaurant with his parents lead to unwarranted commentary. No one in this town liked to feel beholden, and no one knew better than his father.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9dSlf8wpBzNjmVr2mellvyN9swRkYMK5WL56C18qe5Z5O7zxf5AQloTkaGCMkgvxsDBZjilq7iHZWAgW4z3SO3MHjt1b_cH1DTCMdiTwR9Edwx4XmckMhcqucwZxseCA-R2Meabu3O2Ef/s1600/billy+graham.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1195" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9dSlf8wpBzNjmVr2mellvyN9swRkYMK5WL56C18qe5Z5O7zxf5AQloTkaGCMkgvxsDBZjilq7iHZWAgW4z3SO3MHjt1b_cH1DTCMdiTwR9Edwx4XmckMhcqucwZxseCA-R2Meabu3O2Ef/s320/billy+graham.jpg" /></a></div>Everyone in the parish was in equal in the follower of Christ and Brothers/Sisters serving the same Lord. Following Scripture <b><u>TO</u> <u>A</u> <u>T</u>!</b> Garrard's father <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> did anything half-assed. He followed through with <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u>. His father's idol was Billy Graham. Garrard's father mirrored Billy's within his own church. He was never willing to let a neighbor or friend go through hard times alone. A man whom <u style="font-weight: bold;">LITERALLY</u> risked his life for strangers <u>without</u> <u>a</u> <u>second</u> <u>thought</u>. Years later, his care <u>showed</u> on his face. With his father at the pulpit and <u style="font-weight: bold;">intently</u> listening, Garrard; down in the stands, sought to the idea that he might be one of whom his father was <u style="font-weight: bold;">un</u>knowingly discussing.</div><div><br /></div><div>At 18, Gerrard was still very much in the closet, with a half-heated commitment to his girlfriend, Chloe, whom was anticipating more. Giving Garrard a <i>shivering</i> <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>cold</i> </span>through his stomach. He <u>wanted</u> to eject himself from the car and <b><u>run</u></b>! Garrard wanted <u>her</u> to wait for marriage. They were already living together for a year 1/2, the church congregation was <u>expecting</u> them to marry before college changed them. Chloe had <u style="font-weight: bold;">high</u> expectations for a change that <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> coming. When they first met in church, they did beget a courtship. There wasn't anything to confide until that intimate moment in the car with looming pressure between them. </div><div> <div><p></p></div></div><div>The existence of Chloe had shielded Garrard from <u>direct</u> questioning about his sexuality; but there were those whim always suspected otherwise. Garrard was always nervous when he had to give an opinion on <u>anything</u> that could open him to judgment. One opinion might <u>lead</u> <u>speculation</u> to another. And, if Garrard was outed after the dots were connected, <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> would stop the congregation from <u style="font-weight: bold;">seeing</u> Garrard for himself and <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> his sexuality. If the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> were to have been out, Garrard would cease to be a man in his father's eyes. Reading the Bible alongside his father and his father's collegues in the church brought him immense <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">anxiety</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>What Garrard was trying to say <u>seemed</u> <u>unforseeable</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u> complicated....but he powered through Men's Bible Study. Sitting with his parents and Chloe hours later at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Timberline</u>, Garrard would fume about Brother Nelson's words. Life the night before, a thunder head loomed across the Ozarks with Garrard re-reading Scriptures trying to quiet the critical part of his brain.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nqJ3Yy-WVU8ZKRF6jIl2PR6-hssQL8Wlxhok9k5Rt_dQUosUloZJ74xqbkkLI8otC7P2l1QRaQs9Mzr-xkxiBiCKq25OmHzLO7Od6sTmuTsm2LIwMkJ9zQhTEsidBI2YeXSCgcNhdS2Z/s261/sony+playstation.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nqJ3Yy-WVU8ZKRF6jIl2PR6-hssQL8Wlxhok9k5Rt_dQUosUloZJ74xqbkkLI8otC7P2l1QRaQs9Mzr-xkxiBiCKq25OmHzLO7Od6sTmuTsm2LIwMkJ9zQhTEsidBI2YeXSCgcNhdS2Z/s0/sony+playstation.jpg" /></a></div>Sometimes it was the simple act of looking at the open <u style="font-style: italic;">Bible</u> that gave Garrard a sense of belonging. Indulging it in somehow brought Garrard closer to his father. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">weight</u> of his world lifted throughout his devotion <u style="font-weight: bold;">into</u> his subconscious <b><u>FOCUS</u>!</b> until Chloe pulled him out by texting. With Chloe's constant texting, Garrard finally replied....trying to evade the issue whilst <u>trying</u> to <u>quickly</u> get off the phone. Garrard <b><u>HAD</u> <u>TO</u> <u>BE</u> <u>READY</u> <u>ON</u> <u>HIS</u> <u>TIME</u>!</b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">NONE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OF</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IT</u> was Selfish malice! Settling into the quiet of the conversation until boredom conquered all. Playing video games until the awkwardness of the conversation dissipated. Due to a sleepless night, Garrard began to play on the <u style="font-style: italic;">Sony Playstation</u>. This allowed Garrard a mental escape from his real world and into a virtual one. He began doing this when he first hit puberty and began fantasizing about men. A <u>distraction</u> from life! Chloe, interrupting the game, wanted to talk. Their relationship had hit a plateau. It had to move. It had to end. It just couldn't stay the same with a long-distance relationship. Different colleges in different directions. With Chloe, Garrard had always felt safe, at least before she reached for him in the car. <u>Until</u> <u>that</u> <u>moment</u>, Garrard felt like God might grant him a free pass, since he was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">trying</u> to be the man his father could recognize as a peer. Now, with Chloe's growing intimacy, Garrard <u>thought</u> he felt the "<i>need</i>" to perform. <i>Maybe one sin would outweigh the balance of another</i>. When thinking about the act of sex itself, Garrard wondered its duration, or post-sex consisted of. <u style="font-weight: bold;">If</u> anything, Garrad thought the action or aftermath might make him straight. When he would fantasize about men, Garrard would <u style="font-weight: bold;">shut</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">down</u> thoughts before entering the fantasy. This was a scenario of sex = marriage. . . .NO IF'S, AND'S OR <u>BUT'S</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO0Ln-WxP-VI5lY1sbFax9EVJHK6re9RYLQSwZcHwtdVSxLNCelILDtCXzEUblQpgmRLH_ipQr4i9p1-R3uFuY2hFVZfy2LuxziotaM-uCzSyCiCqT_-zLBVDI0noaWKNA77H8AiCEYMF/s1761/psycho.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1761" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVO0Ln-WxP-VI5lY1sbFax9EVJHK6re9RYLQSwZcHwtdVSxLNCelILDtCXzEUblQpgmRLH_ipQr4i9p1-R3uFuY2hFVZfy2LuxziotaM-uCzSyCiCqT_-zLBVDI0noaWKNA77H8AiCEYMF/s320/psycho.jpg" /></a></div>While cleaning windshields, Garrard was approached by a woman with her eye on a car. He began to wonder if he was being singled out <u>for</u> a <u>divine</u> reason. It was his job as a Christian to <u>seize</u> <u>the</u> <u>moment</u> as his father would say during Bible study. In helping her, Garrard felt a betrayal for taking advantage of her knowingly. Garrard & Chloe had been watching <u style="font-style: italic;">Psycho II</u> down in the basement. Garrard first learned about sex on a storm-less night when his father wasn't snoring and he was <b><u>AWAKE</u>!</b> Garrard learned of his father's taste in staticy illegal channels. Ratting out his father the morning whilst concealing his <u>own</u> truth. In the midst of his sleeplessness, Garrard ran into Brandon far away from Chloe. They both couldn't sleep after the evening movie. They both resumed their game-play. After a few more hours of <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> concentration, they both lay back in their sleeping bags. Brandon wonderingly asked if their avatars were gay? Looking back at Garrard, they <u>both</u> <b><u>KNEW</u> </b><u>they</u> were. They continued to play night into morning with Chloe popping up in the morning for breakfast.</div><div><br /></div><div>Garrard's father had written a note to God, leaving it into his desk drawer, and told him to <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> open it. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> to touch it....but, leave it there. The last summer that Garrard spent at his dealership, old enough for his curiousity to outweigh his reverance, Garrard read the note. After ignoring and blowing Chloe off for 3 weeks, Garrard's parents began to wonder why? He pretended he was sick on Sundays so he wouldn't have to see her again at church. When he couldn't fake being sick for another another week, he volunteered to work behind the sanctuary. Another week, it was almost time to move to the small liberal arts college where he'd been accepted. Then, late one night, Garrard's father received a phone call from Chloe's mother. She was hysterical. <u>Brandon</u> had been caught with a boy in his bed, a close friend. They had been experimenting. Chloe's mother had <u>no</u> <u>one</u> <u>else</u> to call. That one phone call changed <b><u>EVERYTHING!</u></b></div><div><b><u><br /></u></b></div><div>Garrard was asked <u>flat</u>-<u>out</u> why he and Chloe had broken up? He couldn't have the words. No clear explanation that didn't involve some terrible admission hurting his mother. He didn't want to make matters worse. When his father came home, Garrard was shaken by his visit from Brandon. Garrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> his father suspected something that he <u>hadn't</u> <u>suspected</u> <u>before</u>. Garrard turned away and went to his bedroom. Another week of video game night. Garrard hardly thought about the next phase of his life. When he wasn't playing games, Garrard tried to <u>ignore</u> the fact that not talking to Chloe <u>also</u> meant he would have to stop talking to Brandon. Brandon was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> person whom seemed to know whom he <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY</u> was never would've been a part of his life again. Whenever either of them decided to do about their "<i>urges</i>", they would be alone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Garrard wanted to tell <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> and open himself up. They then drowned his <u style="font-style: italic;">PlayStation</u> in the shower. Done with games, whatever he faced from his parents, Garrard would face <u>directly</u>. 2 full days at <u style="font-style: italic;">Life</u><i>-</i><u style="font-style: italic;">In</u><i>-</i><u style="font-style: italic;">Action</u>; the back-and-forth trips and seeing the news in various stops along the way had Garrard question what the news itself was debating. The liberal attitude was what brought him to L.I.A. If Garrard were to stay with the church and closeted, he <u>would've</u> been part of the mainstream itself. But, he allowed secular influences to shape him. The day before, one of the staff counselors had asked Garrard to take a long, hard look at their lives and draw a timeline that demonstrated their progression into homosexuality. Garrard had an epiphany; Most of his attractions had developed alongside his favorite literature. Reading secular literature were discouraged by L.I.A. Only <u style="font-weight: bold;">pre</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">approved</u> material was permitted. A few days without reading typically sent Garrard into a nightly depression that made it difficult to sleep. In high school, Garrard's love of reading evolved into a protection from the sinful narrative in which the characters followed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Garrard's freshman year of college was <u>so</u> <u>free</u>ing and reading was <u style="font-weight: bold;">widely</u> encouraged. Garrard wondered if he ever got the chance to read so freely again or if he would have to stay there at L.I.A. for as many years at the counselors had been there, learning to live with the side effects of his sin, keeping the rest of of the world at bay. Gerrard wanted to avoid the conflicting thoughts taking up residence in his brain by blocking out the noise with conflict which was <u>highly</u> for forbidden. The <u>M</u>.<u>I</u>. (<i><u>M</u>oral <u>I</u>nventory</i>) took place daily that consisted of a <u>regular</u> reading/writing schedule. Garrard was to put pen-to-paper of his sinful behavior in his past in <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">detail</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">SHARE</u> it to absolve himself of it. Without his <u style="font-style: italic;">Moleskine</u> or his books or video games, stripped and without distraction, Garrard was <u style="font-weight: bold;">FORCED</u> to confront the ugliest most shameful parts of himself. Taking the steps needed, Garrard felt comfortable, being the good student. It must've been comforting for Garrard's mother as well, seeing him the way he often did in high school.</div><div><br /></div><div>As Gerrard was acquiring himself with the facility, he was becoming familiar with the smells of his environment. The smells of other boys. Whilst on the midst of anger, Gerrard realized he had free reign of his vocabulary without consequences. It had only been 30 minutes since his parents departure. On the ride there, Gerrard's father was <u style="font-weight: bold;">immensely</u> impressed by the ascendency of the outside. Taking notes of how he wanted to elevate his <u>own</u> church.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard had lost about 50LBS. over the summer. What began as gradual evolved quickly. He refused to eat more than 500 calories/daily, punishing himself farther by running for 2 hours every afternoon. His weight loss took an angry, maschochistic turn that verged on anorexic and scared his parents into making their minds wonder. As he decided to become more active and renounce gaming. Having the same predicament, Gerrard stumbled upon a freshman named David. As they spoke, they had ALOT in <u>common</u>: from language barriers to daily routines & heavy studies. Heading into <u>easy</u> conversations between the 2 of them. Gerrard was the <u>intro</u>vert to David's <u>extro</u>vert.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard spent more than 30 minutes in the dorm bathroom that first night examining himself in the mirror. When he returned to his room, feeling his new roommate, Sam's, eyes more checking out his legs and complimented him. Sam was an early riser and studious runner. But, not wasn't nearly as charming. Sam stood and shut off the lights for bed. They had settled into <u>silence</u>. Until the sound of the TV came on due to the inability to sleep without sound. Gerrard went to for a walk and ran into David, whom was also insomniac. They talked well into the night. The intimacy he thought he would've accepted from David would soon give him <u style="font-weight: bold;">regret</u> later within the year. They were almost 2 months into the semester and they barely knew each other. Two months in and Gerrard hadn't attended a single service. Gerrard wanted to spend his time with David, not leaving the dorm room unless it was to <u style="font-weight: bold;">go</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> class and <u style="font-weight: bold;">back</u>. He couldn't help but feel that the campus was talking about his secret. The only time Gerrard felt safe outside the dorm was in literature class discussing hypothetical lives into a sense of morality. Gerrard only found comfort in books.</div><div><br /></div><div>Even if you know the person - <u style="font-weight: bold;">especially</u> if you know them - a rape, and the memory of it, becomes a blinding flash. A brush against something bigger than yourself. Sometimes the experience takes form of a divine visitation, such as our need to displace the reality of it. Gerrard tapped into, in <u style="font-weight: bold;">ultra-exposed</u> detail, the swirl of grain wood at the base of David's bunk. Gerrard would remember the events surrounding what happened. . .but <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> the act <u style="font-weight: bold;">itself</u>. He would never get close to the memory of it to see what was there. For the longest time, Gerrard wouldn't allow himself to <u style="font-weight: bold;">admit</u> that it was indeed rape at all. Like many victims, he was embarrassed. Questioning himself. Adding to the shame was the knowledge that Gerrard had secretly pined for the opportunity to be this close to another man, and it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">difficult</u> after his experience with David to consider gay sex as anything other than rape. Small details & flashes were all Gerrard would remember. <b><u>Every</u></b> <u><b>little</b></u> <b><u>thing</u></b> to remember the details. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kX_5hy4U_4yAtBOcNyx6GJgH4ypWV-M5sJA8RXjdb5apKWwZZA0bl2hZEBn-wfuzjSLfktSsTgUYPPviGk62IncHEspQcVnI3YFcJLsdsi306LmRt1-_bXS6Kg0WHeZAqTRSfbi5nIuL/s324/jerry+falwell.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kX_5hy4U_4yAtBOcNyx6GJgH4ypWV-M5sJA8RXjdb5apKWwZZA0bl2hZEBn-wfuzjSLfktSsTgUYPPviGk62IncHEspQcVnI3YFcJLsdsi306LmRt1-_bXS6Kg0WHeZAqTRSfbi5nIuL/s320/jerry+falwell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Gerrard was waiting for a sign from God as David tapped his feet beside him in the church. Gerrard tapped back. Playing a foot dance w/ each other. Sitting beside Garrard, David seemed as if he might already be wearing his invisible armor. He mumbled to himself what was being said in front interpreting. This was during the period in which pastors incorporated Jerry Falwell into their works. Brother Nielson spoke Jerry's word. Gerrard had heard in his own church to condemn those whom are LGBT and at Pride parades in his home town. Signing drafts in documentation of the church. Gerrard felt a fear to sign . . .as if he were signing his draft into the Army; although signing along the dotted line as to not oust himself. As the pastor was telling him he could be strong just by giving in to his faith, Gerrard could enter into David's secret language, feeling the weight of the words leaving his body. In one blinding flash, the promise of intimacy because <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> for Gerrard. <u>There</u>, he might find <u>REAL</u> inspiration.</div><div><br /></div><div>A few hours after church service, Gerrard was in David's room as he/David was trying to clean the room of supernatural forces. Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to stop him after a certain while. Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> him at that moment. David & his body were looking good. The youth pastor had run out of anointing oil. So, Gerrard & David went to the back of the youth pastor's car, popped his track and found some <u style="font-style: italic;">Penzoil</u>. Back to work, David & Gerrard began to mess around after having residual oil on their fingers. A few hours passed, and then it happened. At first, it was like a Baptism. Gerrard felt his body went under but someone else pulled him to the surface. Gerrard worried about the logistics of this newfound situation. He worried how his body would look with its stretch marks. (<i>Believe me...<u>I</u>, <b><u>personally</u>, </b>have been there</i>!) Gerrard worried about his own safety but whilst wanting him to stop. But, he worried about upsetting him. This wasn't what Gerrard wanted it to be . . . . though it wasn't. Previous thoughts of this occurred at the age of 12, standing inside the baptistery of their family church. He was a new man standing on new territory. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Looking</u> into the faces of his congregation, Gerrard was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">longer</u> inevitable. Everything else that led to his enrollment in L.I.A. felt like a deserved punishment.</div><div><br /></div><div>David had confessed that the same night he sexually assaulted Gerrard, that he recently had <u>done</u> <u>the</u> <u>same</u> <u>thing</u> to a 14-yr-old boy in his youth group; with <b><u>no</u></b> <u style="font-weight: bold;">explanation</u> as to the <u>reason</u> why. Gerrad believed that God was physically punishing him for his mental transgressions, He didn't yet recognize it, but the logic of ex-gay therapy, the idea that sinful urges were equal to David's thoughts. Gerrard was sitting on the bed and felt the same encumbrance as a pedophile; according to <i>Scripture</i>, he was no better than a murderer. When Gerrard was told the Presbyterian pastor at their college what David had done to that 14-yr-old boy; he was told to <u>stay</u> <u>quiet</u>. Gerrard believed his silence was due punishment. He kept the rape to himself due to thinking that rape & shame were what gay sex was all about, but mostly in part out of embarrassment to admit that he wasn't strong enough to find them off, and he was worried that the Pastor would interpret this weakness as a submission to homosexuality. If life was ever going to make sense again, Gerrard would have to search harder for clon her ear answers.</div><div><br /></div><div>David called Gerrard's mother a few weeks later, out of desperation & guilt, outed her only son to his mother. Ousting that Gerrard was disgusting and a monster. Gerrard found out from a mutual friend that his mother was on her way to the college to take him home, and he sat in his friend's dorm quietly sobbing sobbing into a pillow whilst putting her son's back. According to a friend who'd heard it from David, Gerrard's mother stated over the phone that his father wasn't going to continue to pay for their son's education if he was going to be openly gay. Gerrard turned off his phone, trying to block out what was coming. Gerrard's mother <u>drove</u> to the college to ask him to come home to talk to his father. She had brought another woman from church with her because of her fear of facing her husband alone. The other woman waited in the car whilst avoiding Gerrard's eye contact, as Gerrard and his mother sat on a bench outside the quad. Shaking& quivering, Gerrard's mother asked if the rumors were true? Gerrard lied. Stating Gerrard was a liar. After a passed moment of silence, Gerrard could <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">longer</u> contain his feelings on the inside. He burst into tears and <b><u>told</u></b> <u>his</u> <u>mother</u> the <u><b>truth</b></u> and <b><u>came</u></b> <u><b>out</b></u>.</div><div><br /></div><div><u>Saying</u> the words out loud made Gerrard sick inside. He wondered if what David had <u style="font-weight: bold;">forced</u> him to swallow had somehow grown inside him, rendering him permanently gay. Embarrassed, Gerrard's mother led him to the car. The other woman didn't say a word. As Gerrard lay in the backseat quietly sobbing, he thought about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> possibilities. The moment Gerrard stepped away from the shower, he had taken on an <u>independent</u> life. He had taken in too much at once, and Gerrard gagged on the freedom of it. Later that night, Gerrard's father gave him an ultimatium. Looking around the house filled with lies & smiles, Gerrard thought he would do <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u> to erase this part of himself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wake up. Shower. Eat breakfast. Arrive at office. By the 5TH day of therapy, Gerrard had already revealed to his L.I.A. group what he felt were all of his carnal sins, though he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">honest</u> of what David had done to them, too afraid God would punish him further if he revealed their secret. Gerrard felt hollowed out. He put himself into a place where he felt <b><u>NOTHING</u>!</b> Gerrard no longer recognized himself in the mirror. In the <u>brief</u> moments when <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> left him, he did feel un-sourced pain that resembled a kind of pride! He could actually accomplish this mission. In his saner moments, Gerrard wondered why he ever indulged. Everyone else had been in the facility longer, knew on a day-to-day basis what the struggle was really like. They had gone through <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u>; but walked away with <b><u>SOMETHING</u>!</b> Something to <u style="font-weight: bold;">KEEP</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FIGHTING</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FOR</u>!</div><div><br /></div><div>The more confused they felt, the closer they got to the source of childhood trauma. Gerrard felt he was being carried away by an undertow into shore-less waters, lost in this constant questioning of his past. The night before, whilst filling out his <u style="font-style: italic;">Addiction Workbook</u>, he had gotten <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">confused</u> that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> get out and go for a run around the neighborhood. Mentally tearing down the wall of questions. He felt like drowning himself in the seas of the Mississippi River. Gerrard wasn't <u>as</u> suicidal as others were, he just felt like flirting with death. The glamour of <i>Ending It All</i> wasn't much of a leap from sensationalism of their family's church. There was also pleasure to be had in <b><u>KNOWING</u>!</b> that the end could come at any time <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">warning</u>. Life takes greater meaning in the aftermath. All of the senseless pain somehow making sense in the end. But, suicide being an unpardonable sin, Gerrard kept to the suburban circuit. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> praying, but fell on echoed ears. For the <u>first</u> time, Gerrard felt in a state of <b><u>NOTHING</u>!</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>The facility was <u style="font-weight: bold;">relentless</u> on faith. But, Gerrard wondered where the faith lied in <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> of the facility. His evidence was synonymous with <u style="font-weight: bold;">unanswered</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">prayers</u>. Becoming more desperate and meaningless with no answers to look to. About an hour after his midnight run, Gerrard was able to <u>COMPLETE</u> his <u style="font-style: italic;">Addiction Workbook</u> to the best of his ability. He didn't know if his answers still rang true, but Gerrard was still <u style="font-weight: bold;">proving</u> himself to his best at public confession.</div><div><br /></div><div>Danny Cosby, one of the main staff counselors, was giving a talk on the importance of sports. Lack of sports in childhood would lead to effeminate behavior. A recovering alcoholic whom came by sports naturally; <u>straight</u> by any man. Being a team player pulled him from his addiction. His life containing all of the necessary raw materials to form a full recovery. Danny had never experienced <u>s</u>ame-<u>s</u>ex <u>a</u>ttraction (S.S.A.), as L.I.A. referred to it. He was hired due to the precedent that his addiction to alcoholism could cure addiction to <b><u>ANYTHING</u>!</b> Taking his teachings of alcoholism and relaying them onto those in the L.I.A. with their attraction to the same sex. J. was sitting across from Gerrard. He tried to keep from looking at him each time Cosby repeated "<i>physical contact</i>". He only looked up once; his gaze was <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">cold</u> it made Gerrard wonder if he had <u>imagined</u> a connection. So quick; but so moving. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">something</u> there. Hidden. <u>But</u>, there!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYpOENYjBQvJ7ncPvv6Dt6En6_svG9pciIZM8ydZFk6buQQVQry7WDbOB2WH43ClpTJwRfYCG-Gwb35XN9OPfw1CPNLeeoRetTxAjtfC_-yKjm0xaAOFDXnSjUAn73kRXxPSZtdvdhG-p/s300/foxnews.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYpOENYjBQvJ7ncPvv6Dt6En6_svG9pciIZM8ydZFk6buQQVQry7WDbOB2WH43ClpTJwRfYCG-Gwb35XN9OPfw1CPNLeeoRetTxAjtfC_-yKjm0xaAOFDXnSjUAn73kRXxPSZtdvdhG-p/w200-h200/foxnews.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Gerrard was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u> of Cosby. He was used to dealing with those whom were <u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OPPOSITES</u> of Gerrard in forms of "<i>education</i>". Cosby <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> see the difference between being gay and being addicted to Heroin. Gerrard had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> how to talk to him. For all of his shame and guilt, Gerrard couldn't put himself in the shoes of those around him. He thought Cosby would see <u>right</u> <u>through</u> him. Gerrard's opinion of Cosby was that of a know-it-all whose been there in Gerrard's shoes. It was strange. From someone whom had been there, Gerrard felt like he was being looked down upon. Gerrard had grown to <u>hate</u> this boy's <u>self</u>-<u>satisfied</u> smile, the same smile he gave as he went through Gerrard's belongings. It reminded him of the look of disgust he'd gotten from others after he came out. Commentary that came from those whom <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">followed</b> <u style="font-style: italic;">Fox News</u>. Gerrard expected Cosby to start in on the metaphors. While watching a movie, Gerrard remembers the look of <u>satisfaction</u> on Cosby's face. Gerrard envied him on his success in the program. He didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to put in the work. You could tell he was <u>previously</u> <u>honestly</u> straight. His straightness entered the room <u>before</u> he did. He didn't feel as self-conscious as the rest of them did. When he didn't look disgusted at the group, he was amused; as though he <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> imagine what the rest of the group was going through. Gerrard wondered what was like in the mind of a straight person. Or at least ever since he discovered he was gay. When in 3RD grade, Gerrard first realized that his interest in his teacher, Mr. Smith, was <u>much</u> <u>greater</u> than that of his other male peers. Gerrard had a string of male crushes that <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldn't</u> go away, a constant ache than ran through his body for so long that he came to believe the feeling of <u style="font-weight: bold;">needing</u> to be <b><u>alive</u>!</b> As Cosby spoke, Gerrard wondered what it would be like to <b><u>see</u> </b><u>himself</u> in roles of the films he seen.</div><div><br /></div><div>In his most stubborn moments - the moments that must've accumulated to such a degree that this blonde-haired boy <u style="font-weight: bold;">distrusted</u> him, Gerrard told himself it must be <u style="font-weight: bold;">really</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">dull</u> to be <u>straight</u>. At his <u style="font-weight: bold;">lowest</u>, Gerrard seen that being gay gave him an <u>advantage</u> for the outcomes that <u>straight</u> people <u style="font-weight: bold;">don't</u> see. This is what <u>inspired</u> him to write. But, the handbook was <u>clear</u> on the subject, on the attitude of superiority that all gay people expressed, designed to <u>hide</u> their inferiority. Often their value is connected to their ability to control others. It was <u>clear</u> to anyone around Gerrard that he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> lost, that he wasn't in control, and that his self-worth was at an <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">low</u>. After all, it was hard <u>not</u> to think that Gerrard ws destroying his family; that its legacy would <u style="font-weight: bold;">end</u> with him. Worse, it was hard <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to think of the money Gerrard's parents were spending ($<i>1,500</i>/2 <i>2 weeks of therapy</i>.) <u style="font-weight: bold;">Hardest</u> of all was the thought of standing beside his father the next day during the ordination ceremony and <u style="font-weight: bold;">lying</u> to the 200+ people whom would gather to celebrate his father's calling, slapping a <u>fake</u> smile on his face for the crowd. All of the questions began plaguing Gerrard's mind. </div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDfEFcvQjOp0pC2WC8tBe1TKGdWVtOZ9c4xRbshJOycZ5QJL7tgdVzzu3ph3jEX4BH01c0tQHNoK4hKw0qlZTZJDjLdsgvsoigpCOOXu1Pz3wHhKa3CipuRYbYx7Fju31b_q-2PxBPiPH/s364/living+word.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="138" data-original-width="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDfEFcvQjOp0pC2WC8tBe1TKGdWVtOZ9c4xRbshJOycZ5QJL7tgdVzzu3ph3jEX4BH01c0tQHNoK4hKw0qlZTZJDjLdsgvsoigpCOOXu1Pz3wHhKa3CipuRYbYx7Fju31b_q-2PxBPiPH/s320/living+word.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Living Word Lutheran Church</u> was particularly inspired by the 1960s Brutalism of old public libraries and post offices. Gerrard seen other patients in the program using certain innotation's that constituted F.I.'s. He was afraid he was going to be reported if he was ratted out or reported. It was important to keep afternoon activities <u>separate</u>, primarily because patients attended L.I.A. for very different reasons. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Source & Refugee Programs</u>, both youth groups under the age of 20, shared afternoon classes together, due to dealing with the same issues shared stories. During his baptism, all of the staring had come from one direction. Gerard had been able to look above the congregant's heads and <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUS</u> on his faith in this public forum. It felt comforting for Gerrard to feel as though he was being looked out for. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">vowed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">break</u> in weakness like his father. They were then instructed as a class to individually craft their feelings into a split mask; symbolizing the 2 halves of their personalities. One they showed the world...one they showed themselves. Therefore putting themselves into <u>mental</u> prison.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard and his father had barely talked on their ride to jail. It would have been a <u>month</u> since Gerrard's truth and coming out and it was almost Thanksgiving break. The week that Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">would've</u> spent with family, he sat beside his father in the passenger seat of his father's car watching the scenes of the road pass by. The Conley Family established roots in this town in 1999 just after they had lost their cotton gin to a corporate competitor to those whom transformed into a shadow of their former selves.</div><div><br /></div><div>Much of the work Gerrard's father now involved educating people outside of the church's door. His increased ambition led to an uprising in customers in the dealership and ingratiate himself in the neighborhood. This was the <u>first</u> <u>time</u> Gerrard shadowed his dad to <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> what his dad <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> did. His new schedule required for him to drive <u>straight</u> home from college. Friday afternoons for family weekends. To the outside world, you would <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">think</u> the Conley family was happy. Closing his eyes to rest on the drive, the images of what had happened the night of his rape has <u style="font-weight: bold;">stayed</u> w/ Gerrard. Through <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">minute</u> of his waking life. One minute Gerrard would remain <u>calm</u>. . .the <u>next</u>; an <b><u>instant</u></b> <u>flash</u>. . .a popping flash would cause Gerrard to react <u style="font-weight: bold;">outwardly</u> w/ <u style="font-weight: bold;">rage</u>. (<u style="font-weight: bold;">1,000</u><b>% </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UNDER</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FUCKING</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">STANDABLE</u><span style="font-weight: bold;">!</span>) Destroying <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> in his sight. After Gerrard was <u>outed</u> to his parents, his mother had driven her son home from college hauling ass in record time. As his mother vomited in an adjacent bedroom, his father led him into his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him,<u>insisting</u> of his mother's confusion. This confrontation, <i>along w/ the coming out process therein of itself in general</i>, had Gerrard feel the urge to join his mother and vomit in the bathroom. No one, <u>especially</u> parent/child ratio, wants the details on one another's sex lives. Yet, here we are!</div><div><br /></div><div>When Gerrard's mother returned from the bathroom, his parents <u>jointly</u> sat on the edge of the bed and explained that they would find a way to "<i>cure</i>" their son. Talking to a preacher about available options. In the meantime, Gerrard was to spend his weekends at home 2 hours away from "<i>unserving influences</i>". Sitting there in this moment, Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> find the nerve to tell them of his sexual assault. The <u>knowledge</u> of his sexuality was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shocking</u> than the <u>knowledge</u> of his assault. They would've deemed it as one followed the other. Either way, their family shame would remain the same. His father gave him an ultimatum of an unfinished education. That night, Gerrard made the <u>quiet</u> decision to agree to <b><u>whatever</u> </b>they had in mind. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Build up a wall and just go along with it</i>. Unlike his mother, Gerrard had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u> of purging himself. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">COULDN'T</u> do it. Instead, he could only cup his hands in prayer and promise God to <u style="font-weight: bold;">try</u> harder. He could only stand before his bathroom mirror and rub the <u style="font-weight: bold;">sharp</u> edge of a pair of scissors against his Adam's apple, until the blade began to leave marks that would <u>prove</u> <u>difficult</u> to explain. To prevent himself from drowning, Gerrard agreed to his parents' plan. As the weeks passed and the next steps solidified, they would decide if he was to stay in college or if more drastic steps needed to be taken. </div><div><br /></div><div><u style="font-weight: bold;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge58ng_npF7h_KT8-ffBWzcVdGH-b9Bo0UqPf6W3t_WkbJiaLhnP3jSQaBXGIA1Dao0-_NJxwRa9UaA7QLNyTL7pxXiSbV81qQnSvGTj0ug0RXCxS6E9stnaw396Gs1EFpcGUp8srFaTpN/s1080/glass+timer.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge58ng_npF7h_KT8-ffBWzcVdGH-b9Bo0UqPf6W3t_WkbJiaLhnP3jSQaBXGIA1Dao0-_NJxwRa9UaA7QLNyTL7pxXiSbV81qQnSvGTj0ug0RXCxS6E9stnaw396Gs1EFpcGUp8srFaTpN/s320/glass+timer.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Each</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">and</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> night, mental fragments were in constant rotation, as if by clockwork. Gerrard had chosen to accompany his father to his jail ministry as a way of <u>ending</u> these images, as an alternative to the suicide notions he <b><u>felt</u> </b><u>nightly</u>. For <u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u> Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">was</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">come</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> suicide, he only wished his dad would pay that same <u style="font-weight: bold;">ATTENTION</u> to others he would help daily in the church. Gerrard would watch vehicles pass on by and often wondered where they went? As if he wondered their path would better a new self for him. Gerrard already learned that there were <u>no</u> simple, straight roads out of town. The night Gerrard was outed, after his father's ultimatum, he ran an internet search on his name and <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CREDIT</u> to his name. He I.M.'d how to file for independence, Gerrard found the risk <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> worth the reward. During the past month in college, literature professors had <u>sensed</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">something</u> of Gerrard's family situation took him under their wing and invited him to their dinner parties, ushering him into their discussions of critical therapy and of the politics of the time. Due to the ancestorial leap between students, Gerrard felt sudden shame from his family. He felt his ancestors judging his attractions to the same sex. Less than a year later, Gerrard wondered why their genogram keys lacked telling <u>proper</u> history. Sitting there in the midst of his professor's intelligent conversations, Gerrard felt like an imposter and a traitor. Yet, it was also true that coming home often made him feel, if not proud of his heritage, at least <b><u>grateful</u></b> for its familiarity. At home, it was a relief to slip back into a world that was known, to deal in platitudes and quiet his mind. With each pilgrammage to/from home, the boundaries between the 2 territories grew weaker, and he grew more terrified of what would happen once he lost his footing. Both sides gave the same solution to <u style="font-weight: bold;">cut</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ties</u>. Staying closeted and <u style="font-weight: bold;">miserable</u> with family or <u>out</u> and distant. Gerrard was leaning toward the latter. Coming to fruition of his life whilst reading the <u style="font-weight: bold;">CLASSIC</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Homer's The Odyssey</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">understanding</b> and putting himself in the narrative's shoes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Brother Stevens had been a pastor at their church and an associate of Gerrard's father. He had invited Gerrard to the jail ministry; part of a scared <u>straight</u> ploy derised by his father. Despite the hunch, Gerrard still believed Brother Stevens might be right. As they drove, Gerrard's father allied the difference between right/wrong. Natural/unnatural. <u>Accurately</u>, Gerrard hadn't felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> natural since his handsome neighbor walking his dog down the street wishing he was the one on the leash; but he wasn't going to voice <b><u>that</u> <u>loudly</u>!</b></div><div><br /></div><div>During the discussion, Gerrard's father said the word "<i>friend</i>" sounding cavalier; <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">trace</u> of irony of <b><u>truth</u>!</b> It made Gerrard <b><u>want</u> <u>to</u> </b>jerk the wheel and <b><u>crash</u> <u>the</u> <u>fucking</u> <u>car</u></b> into the nearest building. His father warned that the neighbor probably outed what happened throughout town. This was the very reason why Gerrard avoided public places. This boy, David, didn't live too far from their town, and odds were he'd <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">already</b> outed Gerrard to protect himself. (<i>What a dick!</i>) Gerrard had found out from a mutual friend that he was on academic probation, no one had heard from him on campus for a month, thinking David moved back with his parents. Completely flipping facts making Gerrard out to be a pedophile. Telling people Gerrard tried to seduce him. Gerrard's roommate, Sam, had already decided to move out of their room. Gerrard was now rooming with his friend, Charles, and that was the reason for Sam's sudden departure. There was nothing Gerrard could do but wait out the storm.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Gerrard got to a point to where he didn't realize what was said. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> the one in the wrong. What Gerrard was <u>saying</u> out of his mouth had no recourse. One of those "<i>Falling out of your mouth and can't put them back in again</i>" moments. Once they came out, it sort of <u style="font-weight: bold;">snapped</u> everything into <b><u>FOCUS</u>!</b> Months later, when first meeting with L.I.A. staff, Gerrard would <u style="font-weight: bold;">instantly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">recognize</u> these words as his own. Only Gerrard wouldn't recognize the <u style="font-weight: bold;">POWER</u> in those words until they were used <u style="font-weight: bold;">against</u> him. Gerrard's father quoted scripture of judging to ease his son of being the better person. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Focus</u> on the <u>mission</u> <u>at</u> <u>hand</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">what</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matters</u>. Although he was wanting/expecting more, Gerrard turned to his father with no other option. Gerrard's father wondered if his son had any <u>GOOD</u> friends in college; in which he instantly thought of as Charles & Dominique; the town music major whom sang spirituals in the dorm lounge, whom all became fast friends with all 3 of them. Although Gerrard would fear his father's reaction of them based on description. It was becoming an evident fact that Gerrard's <u>personal</u> life and <u>home</u> life were becoming separate entities. After being outed by David, Gerrard was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fearful</u> if the 2 were merged. Original sin was a concept that Gerrard and his father <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> <b><u>TOO</u> <u>WELL</u>!</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Gerrard's father pulled rank w/ the "Honoring" your parents would table conversations. <i>That was </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">EXACTLY</u> what he/Gerrard was doing. Or so Gerrard thought. Gerrard's father took a back road with maple trees on either side focusing his attention away from the <u style="font-weight: bold;">heaviness</u> on the interior of the truck. As his father tapped his shoulder for his son's attention, Gerrard raised his rifle and aimed its scope at the space beneath a large doe. As Gerrard fired the gun and a bullet missed, <u style="font-weight: bold;">both</u> were tracking through the forest tracing everything back to where it would become impossible to feat its origin.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEgh-LO_Fn6aEdDrwxljtCNXmDy7251yR1TXOJ1ASRcPm6drfqiwNb5DDCDCKVyEI5ayAJ4F85jR6j8SFrDEYJortPDtyMGdgKgXXMn_b3LdvrH7wAcrk31pHyiHDubUEvSpyNkgrtUG18/s1500/ccr.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1490" data-original-width="1500" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEgh-LO_Fn6aEdDrwxljtCNXmDy7251yR1TXOJ1ASRcPm6drfqiwNb5DDCDCKVyEI5ayAJ4F85jR6j8SFrDEYJortPDtyMGdgKgXXMn_b3LdvrH7wAcrk31pHyiHDubUEvSpyNkgrtUG18/s320/ccr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Gerrard's father wondered if his son had any good friends at his college; whilst driving through a speed-up light. When asked, he thought of Charles & Dominique, the twin music majors whom sang spirituals in the dorm lounge were becoming close friends, but Gerrard feared his father's opinion of them. Although he "<i>claimed</i>" there wasn't any problems, Gerrard <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> his father would find one. There was also the fact that Gerrard's home life and college life were becoming <u>separate</u> entities. After David's call, Gerrard <b><u style="font-style: italic;">feared</u> </b>of the aftermath if the 2 of them merged. <u>Original</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">sin</b> was a concept Gerrard and his father <b><u>KNEW</u> <u>ALL</u> <u>TOO</u> <u>WELL</u>!</b> Gerrard began to think of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">immense</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">liberation</u> he felt in his <u style="font-style: italic;">Western Literature</u> class with his professors. After a few more minutes of <u>silence</u>, Gerrard's father turned up <u style="font-style: italic;">Creedence Clearwater Revival</u> on the radio. He was now living in his father's territory.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuWJ9gZdlv6MSuOoWy4WA7R7GUl1d2ue-AYfzEHv5pzLMH8o40vaOhq8EjqJyumA2Y2YHA5q8qO1RzEG_-tuMLezkHuhTDoSmGWl84Nz1R270yUDvzB9Fuk91_lDo25rj7ejcH7xVLYwe/s678/m+%2526+m%2527s.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="678" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuWJ9gZdlv6MSuOoWy4WA7R7GUl1d2ue-AYfzEHv5pzLMH8o40vaOhq8EjqJyumA2Y2YHA5q8qO1RzEG_-tuMLezkHuhTDoSmGWl84Nz1R270yUDvzB9Fuk91_lDo25rj7ejcH7xVLYwe/s320/m+%2526+m%2527s.png" width="320" /></a></div>At college, when Gerrard learned about <u style="font-style: italic;">Freudian</u> theory during his first semester, he grew more concerned. Thinking about how it related to his father. There seemed to be no branch of psychology, philosophy, or literature he read that couldn't be bent to prove his guilt. By that same token, there seemed to be no idea that Gerrard encountered that didn't complicate his understanding of his belief that wasn't called into question. This was a debate of the mind that drove Gerrard insane. As Gerrard sat up for a better look, it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DIFFERENT</u> from expectation. Looking at his view, he could see why the townspeople wanted different. It was <u>then</u> that Gerrard began to see a cumulative effect to beauty. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Beauty being at the eye of the beholder</i>. Gerrard seen this in the way the church spoke of marriage as a sacred institution in the ONE MAN + ONE WOMAN ideation bumper sticker, ones that would be passed out everywhere. Naming something ugly had a similar effect. The <u>sound</u> of his mother's vomiting the night she drove him home had taught the lesson <u>better</u> than anything else. Gerrard was gay and was <u>OUT</u>. . .a fact that once ingested, had been immensely expelled. Gerrard began to wonder if a pre-planned therapy session was awaiting him upon his release from jail. A plan awaited for Gerrard from his dad among the inmates w/ <u style="font-style: italic;">Peanut M&M's</u> on their knowledge of the Bible. Gerrard began to <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> his father's work w/ a renewed spirit in his eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>A week has passed. Gerrard's parents had visited with Brother Stevens while he was away at college, discussing whether or not there was a "<i>cure</i>" for Gerrard's homosexuality. He knew, surprisingly, very little about how L.I.A. was considered to be TOP-TIER #1 in the country. If they couldn't make Gerrard straight - no one could. In order for preparation for L.I.A., they wanted Gerrard to attend some introductory sessions w/ staff-approved therapist. His mother drove him to the counselor's office, Gerrard confessed what he would later learn was his <u>first</u> <u>M</u>oral <u>I</u>nventory. derailing his same-sex attractions in a vague, desexualized language, <u>leaving</u> <u>out</u> all of the stuff about his ex; David, <u>but</u> <u>including</u> as many sexual fantasies that he could recall. When the counselor asked him if he had any relationships, Gerrard confessed about Chloe, about how guilty he'd felt lying through omission. The counselor suggested to Gerrard, in not so many words, to be "<i>honest</i>" for a future w/ God together. Gerrard couldn't say <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. He wanted to <u style="font-weight: bold;">confess</u> and spill. . . but <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">feared</u> the outcome. That made Gerrard withdrawn and quiet, and the counselor used this time as an opportunity to preach about the need for <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> acceptance. When their hour was up, Gerrard's mother asked if she could speak to him <u>alone</u>, and when she came out of the office, her eyes were watery and red. The counselor had told her <u style="font-weight: bold;">SOMETHING</u> to convince her. Once they got home, they were taking things one step at a time. They were going to try <u>every</u> option. Becoming <u style="font-weight: bold;">silent</u> on the way home. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the jail 2 weeks prior to Thanksgiving, Gerrard's father preached about the <u style="font-weight: bold;">importance</u> of courage. <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> men show emotion. <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> men follow religion. As he prepped the church, Gerrard realized that God also showed emotion. As Gerrard prepared to leave, he headed to the kitchen to find his mother and couldn't leave without asking her about the doctor. They wouldn't know anything until the end of the week. The doctor sent for Gerrard to have tests over Christmas break to seeover his testosterone levels . . .and go from there! This was a doctor whom Gerrard had visited for the past 5 years. She always knew how to make Gerrard feel comfortable. Gerrard had left the house that morning in a stupor. He hardly noticed when his parents entered the church. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">hardly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">heard</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">word</u> of Brother Stevens' message.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanksgiving had ended. Gerrard had returned to college and his mother had been washing dishes. The mail had had come in, but Gerrard's mother feared sorting it due to an upcoming reply from <u>L</u>ove-<u>I</u>n-<u>A</u>ction any time. They also scheduled an appointment to test his testosterone levels. They were taking the steps to "<i>cure</i>" him, but his mother thought they were moving <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u> quick. <i style="font-weight: bold;">If only she knew. . .a year ago</i>. Brother Stevens had set things into motion <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">quickly</u>, telling Gerrard's parents that they needed to act fast or else he might fall into even greater sin whilst away at college. After letting her hands dry and attendance to the mail, Gerrard's mother tended to a stack of envelopes. Therein she found some from <u>L</u>ife-<u>I</u>n-<u>A</u>ction. She tore open the envelope and found a brochure. The brochure had the picture of a familiar looking boy. But. . . .what she <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> were his eyes. His eyes were so sad. They were calling out to her. He wanted to save the boy in the picture. . .but just didn't know how. All these years later, the <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> thing that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">unforgettable</u> were the trapped look in his eyes in a very <u style="font-style: italic;">Picture Of Dorian Gray</u> situation. Something that Gerrard would learn that came with LGBT literature studies. She imagined a boy like this in the brochure. There was order and cleanliness. <i>What could this boy need</i>? Coming from the home he did, how could a boy like this becoming this way? Everything soon became too much at once. The smallest details <u>became</u> her focus. The <u>environment</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">around</u> her was something unfamiliar to her whilst it was <u>common</u> in L.I.A. </div><div><br /></div><div>Listening back to it. . . .Gerrard realized he could <u>retain</u> what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">forget</u> the rest. After realizing this, Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> how much this advice <u style="font-weight: bold;">HELPED</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MUCH</u> long after his time at L.I.A. because it came so easy for him to ignore what he once held closely. He had been so heartless without even trying. The trick was to believe that cutting people out of your life was <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessary</u> in your development. Like weeding out the weak. Cutting out those whom don't <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> you. That includes Chloe, Brandon, David, his college friends Charles & Dominique and Caleb - the first boy he kissed. Wanting to stop for the night, Gerrard's mother turned off the recorder and waited for his father to join her.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-F5yaH3A_1JPFxy5nYuUT5YJNQuPQHGAkjr0_f6xGNEl_j0TXllmiaTVCujf7BSycJsSWmSJY5R5WP3yd4JyQyqanGVcQXXQKzqX28Tac97dfQpmDDCnsOAE8zHRDmuBUl_EHHrOT5H1k/s1200/razr.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-F5yaH3A_1JPFxy5nYuUT5YJNQuPQHGAkjr0_f6xGNEl_j0TXllmiaTVCujf7BSycJsSWmSJY5R5WP3yd4JyQyqanGVcQXXQKzqX28Tac97dfQpmDDCnsOAE8zHRDmuBUl_EHHrOT5H1k/s320/razr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Gerrard had become in a state where the <u style="font-weight: bold;">simplist</u> of decisions had taken on an endless complexity. Gerrard wanted to surprise his mother, only he was no longer sure he knew his mother well-enough to surprise her. Gerrard had come from 5 mornings in group therapy with suicide cases, with lives that had been wrecked in an instant and <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> recovered; therein Gerrard began to expect the unexpected. A moment of grace-or terror - arguably the same thing - could descend without <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> warning. Lying about his sexuality in front of hundreds of people while standing beside his father as he took his holy vow - this felt like the lightening rod, the pillar-of-salt moment, that Gerrard couldn't turn back from. He headed to the bathroom and locked himself inside the stall. Within the stall, there was a number inside the stall. Gerrard took the number and put it into his <i><u>RAZR</u></i> phone and saved it under the pseudonym "<i>Mark Bathroom</i>". He walked out of the stall and acted nonchalantly as if nothing ever happened. It made Gerrard feel slightly good to have a secret once again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Having Mark's number gave Gerrard such <u style="font-weight: bold;">confidence</u> walking tall. Telling people the truth that gets you in trouble. The previous afternoon at L.I.A. whilst working in their <u style="font-style: italic;">Addiction Workbooks</u>, the group was tested on their <u style="font-weight: bold;">intensity</u> to sex; which Gerrard had personally very little of, but was still expected to repent. They had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u> with themselves. What was happening within the group was nothing to what happened prior to L.I.A. One illusion could so stubbornly dictate the way he seen every interaction with the people around him. It was a concept he'd <u>only</u> heard about in one of his all-night reading marathons. With each passing day at the facility, it seemed as though becoming <u>straight</u> was simply a matter of ignoring what you didn't want to see. Next came a choose your own adventure story; Only in this situation, the wrong choice could send you to Hell. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Addiction Workbook</u> made it clear which choice was the <u>right</u> one. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Workbooks</u> gave a '60s arrest scenario. Exiting the gas station bathroom with the mysterious Mark saved in his phone. Gerrard expected half-assed the <span style="color: #444444;">cold</span> slap of handcuffs against his wrist. Gerrard kind of wanted it. At least a trip to the police station would have saved him from his own lying. Gerrard returned to the car empty handed. </div><div><br /></div><div>If Gerrard's mother was disappointed, she didn't show it. At 19, Gerrard's father had already married his mother and taken over the family cotton gin, changing the trajectory his life was to take. Now in his mid-50s, he was about to change everything again. Time was running out for Gerrard to turn into his father. Gerrard had yet to make the jump into hetero life, and create something stable. <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIS</u> son. <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIS</u> life. For awhile, it seemed Gerrard's mother and he had lost themselves in the abundance of all that his father had come to represent for the people around them. While they weren't at fault, they <u>still</u> couldn't stop what was happening. But, they were trying to appease to the church. By L.I.A., standards, it should've been Gerrard's father that turned out gay, since he suffered the most of his childhood. By L.I.A's standards, his father's life made no sense.</div><div><br /></div><div><u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyidm34y-nsP-QexBTs1JlSYaCnHHUTSdbnUFoHLkDOgMpoxeC6Pxf4rE7pukrqsjZMy_Unk1tuwFkHQNp_0GQ_oCu9ruqtiophP-1aldc1DLSiKmsCLj7-NSrz8xhdvxc6BHMZT0F9qK/s1540/sonic.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1540" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyidm34y-nsP-QexBTs1JlSYaCnHHUTSdbnUFoHLkDOgMpoxeC6Pxf4rE7pukrqsjZMy_Unk1tuwFkHQNp_0GQ_oCu9ruqtiophP-1aldc1DLSiKmsCLj7-NSrz8xhdvxc6BHMZT0F9qK/s320/sonic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Silence</u>. With Mark's number in his pocket, Gerrard suddenly knew that what he was thinking was true. Keeping a secret, telling a lie by omission, made it easier for Gerrard to spot <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> of the other lies around him. Gerrard was more mentally distracted with his problems while in the car to <u style="font-style: italic;">Sonic</u>; but his mother had to pull over. Putting into hindsight the length of the ceremony and preventing missed meal cramps. The church was <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u> Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">remembered</u> it. It would later occur to Gerrard that much of the success of the Baptist Church in this part of the country could be attributed to the elegancy of the contrast. Unlike the <u style="font-weight: bold;">heaviness</u> of the Catholic Church. Sensing, perhaps, that most of the congregants, whom came from humble backgrounds, would feel overwhelmed by too much ostentation. When Gerrard was asked of his education, he <u>mentally</u> felt he learned way more than he could've from the church. Brother Stevens had grown so fragile in the year since he last seen him; not wanting to tell him what he <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY </u> thought. Gerrard thought it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">easier</u> for Brother Stevens for being <u>straight</u>. (<i>In an essence, Good For You . . . Mr. Straight</i>) Gerrard tried to find his way out of the room and conversation. He began having a panic attack. Gerrard made a beeline to his old perch at the back of the sanctuary. He <b><u>NEEDED</u></b> space. Needing something to do to calm his nerves, Gerrard walked up to the stairs as the presentations were being prepped. When time came to, Gerrard turned to face his father for the first time since coming to L.I.A. His father's smile was <u>genuine</u>, his eyes sparkled, wishing his son luck. </div><div><br /></div><div>When Gerrard was born, after his father/mother held him and just before the nurse took him away to the<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DrgxNqGKwfHYAXef80wRvS836FrarNo2Mv2vh6517Yz1EUok98iL9O_1bfx9Cux2ZV7mkW-wX3dRGPUYc6s0TdyJyywCwYW6dksUh9_O3u3KfH5USzr1yFJ-G43erEYzHyubiuOr0gaj/s200/vicks.gif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DrgxNqGKwfHYAXef80wRvS836FrarNo2Mv2vh6517Yz1EUok98iL9O_1bfx9Cux2ZV7mkW-wX3dRGPUYc6s0TdyJyywCwYW6dksUh9_O3u3KfH5USzr1yFJ-G43erEYzHyubiuOr0gaj/s0/vicks.gif" width="200" /></a></div><br /> nursery, his father had used the sharp point of his hunting knife to <u>gently</u> etch a small zigzag in the bottom of his left foot; a tiny scar that would prove Gerrard was <u>his</u>; a symbol to ensure that the nurses hadn't mixed him up with some other baby. He was a paranoid father fearful to lose another son. Love could come to you even in a room that seemed drained of it. They went to a movie theater that sounded like the soundtrack to the <u style="font-style: italic;">NyQuil</u> ad. Gerrard sat in the back with his roommates. Afterward, his ex-gay therapy sessions at L.I.A.'s neighboring office, began after his trip to jail, felt like a different life. Since his mother kept putting off scheduling his doctor's appointments, since his mother kept putting off scheduling his doctor's appointment, he hadn't had his testosterone checked, but feared he knew the results. Gerrard wanted to keep 2 parts of his life separate - a sense to be <u>one</u> person - while remaining to be a sinner. This secret life pressed against his student life at all times, in the back of his mind, and their moments his student life began to progress. He would be reminded of a world of sin that awaited him. In his secret life, Gerrard was always at L.I.A. Gerrard and his parents had opened themselves up to this hope just when he seemed more lost, accustomed as they were to the habits of faith, and this hope shot them through the tight circuitry of the ex-gay industry to the <u>heart</u> of L.I.A. </div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard was asked if he was masking a deeper problem without it. The counselor wondered if Gerrard's sexuality was in <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> way connected to his parents. Through L.I.A., Gerrard's mother became something less to him. The bond became less than what it was once before between mother/son. Things don't happen overnight and take their time. Patience is a virtuous key; but Gerrard felt it was long overdue. Whilst everyone was talking, Gerrard was mentally exiting their surrounding words. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2fda9IgqKbLZtQvoeq2PQbjKv8lffohdMNjAWWh92GQGRLkCWOUhgwwdziTWuKuQ7lvKHKSs5sEselvOfLMy6KUHHC0ZCNuLW3IHkRzs4B9szZIad2fdRDLfGUWQqRWIvSTK69CYCDtW/s500/passion.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="282" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2fda9IgqKbLZtQvoeq2PQbjKv8lffohdMNjAWWh92GQGRLkCWOUhgwwdziTWuKuQ7lvKHKSs5sEselvOfLMy6KUHHC0ZCNuLW3IHkRzs4B9szZIad2fdRDLfGUWQqRWIvSTK69CYCDtW/s320/passion.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>Gerrard soon realized he was being sat at the helm watching <u style="font-style: italic;">The Passion Of The Christ</u>. He had seen it various times in his own father's church. The message in the film spoke volumes on his ministry. When Gerrard left each weekend for home, he never stated his whereabouts. There was no discussion about his weight loss or sudden loss in his G.P.A. The world outside their circle was a scary place, and it always would be an arrogance of youth making these problems seem like skin you could shed. The outside world was white noise to what was inside their circle. </div><div><br /></div><div>The more winter gained traction. . .the closer this group became their inseparable clique. In his <u>secret</u> life, the counselor turned to Gerrard and asked him of his first sexual experience. His <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">first</u> time. Given the circumstances, it <u>wasn't</u> shocking. But, Gerrard felt as though boundaries were being crossed. . .Gerrard seen flashing neon signs of Bullshit. But, he gave it a chance. Settling in for the long haul. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Nothing</u> personal gained. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Just</u> professional. The counselor showed <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> concern. Gerrard began to tell of his first sexual encounter w/ Brad; a boy on the sports team in junior high. There was an underlining in the modem of questioning. The counselor wanted <u style="font-weight: bold;">NON</u> explicit details, which Gerrard divulged. <u>Constitutional</u> and <u>mutual</u> between them both. The story of Gerrard's childhood and his developing sexuality took on new colors and associations. Beneath the shame; the counselor suggested to put an end to his actions/feelings and box them away. Diverting the issue to his college applications. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-uN9QRHYsXYK3f_b4XHooDKvXio7NNmeeN8bUjMCbZ32D35mgS804mfL7eeQFkjPKA_zr4syTaOwBCAHcJppQ6h0asCS-60kwnXPVh1ZEfrOtPHNDPYhrvAbod7bgraLeizo1kCW9q1C/s200/mcd.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-uN9QRHYsXYK3f_b4XHooDKvXio7NNmeeN8bUjMCbZ32D35mgS804mfL7eeQFkjPKA_zr4syTaOwBCAHcJppQ6h0asCS-60kwnXPVh1ZEfrOtPHNDPYhrvAbod7bgraLeizo1kCW9q1C/s0/mcd.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Compared to the on-screen pain depicted in the film, Gerrard felt small in his. Shifting his priorities to <u style="font-weight: bold;">get</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">shit</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">done</u> in college prep instead of wallowing. After the movie, Gerrard and his friends met up at a nearby <u style="font-style: italic;">McDonald's</u>; the <u>only</u> area with lighting among darkness. <b><i>Does anyone ever notice that the food you order anywhere is </i><u>NEVER</u><i> as good as the picture</i>?</b> For a bite to eat. To his friends, the film was just that. For Gerrard, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">STAYED</u> with him; considering his own upbringing. Gerrard turned his attention to the bathroom. . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">realizing</u> he didn't recognize himself in the mirror.</div><div><br /></div><div>In his secret life, ex-gay therapy began to cross bear in Gerrard's mind/gut. Not biding well with the food his mother forced him to eat on an empty stomach. His stomach was empty and his mind was full. . .which complicated matters. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> Gerrard could <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEAR</u> was the words lept from therapy living rent-free in his mind. The counselor suggested he attended <u style="font-style: italic;">The Source</u>. If he wasn't doing that, he would try <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> to wrap his head around what his mind was seeing. <i style="font-weight: bold;">You can't run from what you are</i>. The counselor never failed to arouse some feelings of guilt in him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Unnecessary</u> guilt. Therapy engulfed him. Gerrard was with his family during Christmas. The doctor's visit had been on Gerard's mother's mind; for the past few weeks. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> wanted to talk about L.I.A., especially his father. Someone had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">keep</u> things <u style="font-weight: bold;">together</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>The doctor wanted Gerrard to return the following week to check his testosterone. Fearing the outcome, Gerrard seen it as a price paid for normalcy. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Immensely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stressing</u> himself. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Hoping</u> the testosterone would solve his problems, hijack his brain in a way prayer and meditation <u>never</u> could. Holidays pass with Gerrard and his mother go a week without talking. The silence worries him. Only months later did Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">realize</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRONG</u> impact of his family. How far he has come. . .How far he has to go. . .After a shower, Gerrard began to text his mom. Less than a week later, Gerrard and his mother were in the waiting room. His mom was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANXIOUSLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TALKING</u>! Only then, when being called in to the therapist office did Gerrard's mother have a loss of words; not knowing where to begin. Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> his mom talked to the therapist of her son's sexuality. The therapist <u>warned</u> Gerrard's mother of the "<i>dangers</i>" of having a gay son in the <u>South</u>. Meanwhile, Gerrard kept his head down. </div><div><br /></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKRJtPupc6jxsmdm1tPm_kU-CuDwlWWHr-InErN-riHCsXia-QVWXWxwYl4YqH9_PXKkfZJmaX_yrurHs0CcnyVg2TdTb7jJrPLsXU4dk-I6YNXKVLWaLkdehg-rra1Q6AlBcNTKPbdJH/s640/what+do+you+say.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAKRJtPupc6jxsmdm1tPm_kU-CuDwlWWHr-InErN-riHCsXia-QVWXWxwYl4YqH9_PXKkfZJmaX_yrurHs0CcnyVg2TdTb7jJrPLsXU4dk-I6YNXKVLWaLkdehg-rra1Q6AlBcNTKPbdJH/w200-h200/what+do+you+say.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What Do You Say?</td></tr></tbody></table>Starting with the <u style="font-weight: bold;">obvious</u> parental fear of having a gay child. Even in her state, Gerrard's mother knew how to <u style="font-weight: bold;">graciously</u> present herself. Nevertheless, she had been taught to persevere, to wait out within all of the glory she <u>could</u> muster. <b><i>What Do You Say In A Moment Like This</i>?<i> When You Can't Find The Words To Tell It Like It Is</i>? <i>What Do You Say</i>?</b> His mom goes to his appearance and weight in a mother's fear at a loss of where to go and what to say. Gerrard was a <b><u style="font-style: italic;">SHAKING</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">NERVOUS</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">WRECK</u>!</b> He felt embarrassed. It was a miracle he was able to <u style="font-weight: bold;">stay</u> seated. He had lost <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> weight. He wasn't eating and it was <u>apparent</u> to everyone in the room. Often, it felt like a small victory to realize that another point of contact had lost it's hold on him.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_x9X1vOFCCHFF09hKaU9Eb8brvV7pZYeRQaesnR0xazYRC9xDhemyPYMNMLy4rFb6R0QMaSjuIws1w7VRzhpLJz6-Kh5Mdstyod9qTW7Jagk7vNeCCVclT7hLZVDSK6kOdZVYNBqteuf/s1200/nancy-grace-g.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_x9X1vOFCCHFF09hKaU9Eb8brvV7pZYeRQaesnR0xazYRC9xDhemyPYMNMLy4rFb6R0QMaSjuIws1w7VRzhpLJz6-Kh5Mdstyod9qTW7Jagk7vNeCCVclT7hLZVDSK6kOdZVYNBqteuf/w320-h213/nancy-grace-g.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Gerrard felt in a point of control of himself. It felt good to not only to feel the past leaving his body. <i>Weight leaving his heart and shoulders</i>. This was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NEW</u> Gerrard. His mother felt Gerrard was tortured whilst <b><u>HE</u> </b>felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">FREE</u>! Once he gained control of his testosterone levels, he would gain even <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> control. It was then that the doctor wanted to talk to Gerrard <u>privately</u>. Talking <u>openly</u> about the subject of sexuality wasn't an option in most Arkansas towns like theirs. This was <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">VERY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NEW</u> for them. Gerrard's mother <b><u style="font-style: italic;">FEARED</u> </b>his sexuality would affect his future. <i style="font-weight: bold;">You can run</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">but you </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">CAN'T</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">hide from what you </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><b> </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">are</i>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">But</u>, Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> running. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">faced</u> it <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ON</u>! Everything these doctors put him through. <i>You can put perfume on a pig. It still won't smell pretty</i>. Outside of what was going on, the doctor still gave Gerrard a listening ear to talk to!</div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard then received a call from Charles. Shooting him a quick response text. Short & sweet. Later that morning, Gerrard agreed to stay home for a few days for his mother's sake; <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> they would be harder on her than him. After Gerrard's first week of therapy, little intricacies began to become menacing. At any other time in life, they would've been in sync. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">telling</u> that Gerrard and his mother never asked anyone to fix their <u>minor</u> problems. Looking back on it, these <u>small</u> problems paled in comparison to the larger ones. That Sunday night, Gerrard snuck out of the hotel room again after midnight to run through the suburban streets. He had to the point of losing time. Gerrard began to show <u style="font-weight: bold;">futile</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">anger</u> to God above wondering what he had done to have this bestowment upon him? As he tried to <u>calm</u> himself, Gerrard found he had to grin-and-bear it. Therapy was turning Gerrard into someone he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> recognize, and he needed to leave L.I.A. with his heart relatively intact.</div><div><br /></div><div>One thing was certain: Gerrard didn't want to act <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">quickly</u> and alert the L.I.A. staff of his intentions. Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it would lead to a parental phone call and becoming an unbreakable cycle. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Never</u> knowing who he really was. In his own way, Gerrard was warned of this happening. The important thing was to <u>grin</u>-<u>and</u>-<u>bear</u>. Lie and act you way through it became Gerrard's mantra. It's easier to lie when you believed the lie. While trying to find comfort in the small things, Gerrard began to find the enjoyment in the simple acts of <u style="font-weight: bold;">writing</u>. The <u>emotional</u> wear began to show on Gerrard's mother. Gerrard tried to delve deep into his workbooks. There wasn't much to say; only small cues. It was a problem Gerrard was forced to face - being relatively free of sin - but was still a problem.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard began discussing progress with patients who've been in and surpassed his shoes. There were things he wanted to know about him, but couldn't vocally say. <b><i>How could he express his truth and dreams without sounding condescending</i>? <i>On the other hand, how could Gerrard express his desire without <u>feeling</u> looked down upon</i>?</b> Gerrard wrote about his fantasies with a <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">coldness</u> </span>he hadn't even known was possible. He didn't even know whom this fantasy was. A silhouette of every boy he ever had a crush on. There was a boy Gerrard did crush on, but kept in distance within the group. <i style="font-weight: bold;">When in doubt</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">go without</i>. After waiting awhile, Gerrard <u>wanted</u> to let his mother in on the therapy lingo, and test it out on her for reaction.</div><div><br /></div><div>Throughout this exercise, Gerrard found insight onto his family history; beginning wit his grandfather.<br /> The <u>more</u> Gerrard <u>thought</u> of his genetics line, the more L.I.A.'s logic began to break down, and he wanted his mother <u>present</u> when it happened. Gerrard's mother felt a dash of interrogation. The point of the drill was to exercise the futility in childhood trauma. At a certain point, Gerrard's mother wanted the 2 of them to venture out for food for escapism. Gerrard wondered if his father ever fought to leave home. It was better not to ask. Exiting for adventure, you could <u style="font-weight: bold;">FEEL</u> the tension release on the road. Making the impossible possible. It wasn't bailing; <u>just</u> <u>a</u> <u>break</u>. Making their own memories.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard often thought of the life his parents shared before he was born. His father was a quarterback. His mother was the cheerleader. They were the IT couple. Then, there was Gerrard; the boy of their dreams. It was hard <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> to see the disappointment for their otherwise perfect union in their child's eyes. Just that morning, Gerrard was suggested to put themselves in the path of their parents followed. Put yourselves in your parents shoes. What made Gerrard's father take the road of faith he had taken. Crumple the first half of the story and toss it in the trash; all else is distraction. Whom was Gerrard before L.I.A.? A 19-yr-old whose second skin was writing, third was humor and the rest was dubbed in sarcasm. You remove the layers, Gerrard would no longer feel safe from the threat of suicide. According to L.I.A.'s logic, the only option was to convert.</div><div><br /></div><div>At a mother/son dinner, Gerrard began to see his mother outside of her title. He began to SEE whom she is as her own person. He wanted to hold on and capture this moment between them. It was then that Gerrard realized he was part of a much larger mystery - and his mother had given him all of this the <u>minute</u> he was born. Gerrard and his mom <u>attempted</u> to keep up with their L.I.A. literature. It had turned to March. They were putting the world on hold to finish what they started. Thinking about the BIG picture post L.I.A., what would be of a career of Gerrard couldn't change whom he was. His parents <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldn't</u> pay for his education and he felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UNCERTAIN</u> of the future. In order to calm his mind at times, Gerrard imagined his mattress was underneath him to catch his fall for protection. Gerrard was supposed to submit his supplemental essays electronically, his mother had decided to complete the primary L.I.A. application for him rather than mail it. Gerrard had stopped going <u>home</u> due to the atmosphere being uncomfortable. The process seemed endless, and they were required to attach a recent photo of him to the application. along with an $80.00 fee. </div><div><br /></div><div>Taking a deep breath, Gerrard was asked of his involvement with others <u>physically</u>. Gerrard founded a "<i>dumb fuck guy lie</i>". He <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u>, but wasn't confessing to his mother. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">GLAD</u> his mother didn't ask him about <b><u>wanting</u> </b>physical involvement with other people. (<i>Take it from me. . . it's embarrassing</i>) He lied. . .out of embarrassment due to the line of questioning. (<i>Put yourself in Gerrard's shoes.</i>) When she delved into <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeper</u> questioning. When he didn't answer immediately, there was a checklist for Gerrard to choose from. He tried to find a pattern in the line of questioning; but Gerrard fell flat. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">heard</u> the questions from his mom. . .but he also <u style="font-weight: bold;">heard</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">loneliness</u> in the quiet. (<i>The quieter you try to be. . .the louder you actually are</i>!) It felt <u>strange</u> to even <u>hear</u> his mother say certain words. After what felt like an endless barrage of questions, Gerrard felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">exposed</u>.</div><div><br /></div><div>April had passed and Gerrard had had a quiet 19TH birthday party with a few friends. In May, the school year was ending and he had less than a month to go before he was to attend L.I.A. For only a moment, it seemed like the only thing that bonded Gerrard and his mother was their love of literature. Start a strong lead and carry on. What became of shooting the shit became Gerrard & Caleb kissing. For once, Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u> whom was watching. Kissing with <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> more. Just laying together and listening to the audio in the room as the sunset outside drew near. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to stay in bed together. But, the morning schedule <u>wasn't</u> on their side. In talks, they were creating a language for themselves. Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> get up before he was late. (<i>We've all been there.</i>) How could Gerrard encapsulate words in these moments of joy & happiness?</div><div><br /></div><div>Watching Caleb, it was inspirational to see him talk about God in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DIFFERENT</u> aspect than Gerrard. While Gerrard felt like it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">FORCED</u> upon him. . .it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">great</u> to see it <u>embraced</u> by choice. He wondered the fairness of it all; which put Gerrard on the defense. While Caleb was lax and chill with his religion. . .due to his upbringing, Gerrard felt tight and stiff in his. Gerrard took a <u>good</u>, pure afterglow moment and perceived to piss on it aggravating Caleb. Fearing he'd be late for class and Caleb's yearn for him to stay, Gerrard was caught in the middle. A year in Gerrard's life had gone completely undocumented. Grateful for it in a year they would rather forget. Who was the boy he was was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">different</u> than the man he became.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of many of L.I.A.'s assumptions was that their sexuality's deviated from some sort of abuse or neglect. As if sexuality would change the family pattern that repeats. Gerrard <u>tried</u> remembering the moment when everything changed between himself and his parents. He was given a history lesson of what he would one day stand to inherit from his father. A greater appreciation for his isolation. While the process of accommodation takes time, Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> expected his father to accept <u>every</u> <u>shifting</u> <u>detail</u> of his life overnight. . .nor he for him. This was something L.I.A. could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> understand. That afternoon, a group circle meeting convened at L.I.A.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">meeting</u> that Gerrard was <u style="font-weight: bold;">pressed</u> of questions about his father. How did Gerrard feel on the inside about his father? What became of conversation became <u style="font-weight: bold;">tough</u> role play within the group. He wanted to tell the group that there were things he would <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> understand about his father. <u>But</u>, he loved him. The <u>group</u> pushed Gerrard to <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">anger</u>. But, he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> angry at his father. Gerrard was <u style="font-weight: bold;">HELLBENT</u> on <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> backing down from this group. Though he did keep his eyes on the dorway of the auditorium. Everyone in the group wanted Gerrard to <u style="font-weight: bold;">RELEASE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ANGER</u> where there wasn't any. He slowly paced himself backing away until he reached the EXIT sign. Telling Gerrard that if he walked out...no cure awaited him.</div><div><br /></div><div><u>Each</u> <u>step</u> Gerrard took was an exercise in freedom. <u>But</u>, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> leaving without his phone. The receptionist dug his phone out from a pile and handed it to him. Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">IMMEDIATELY</u> called his mother; pleading for her help. Gerrard and his mother were quiet on the way home after she responded to him via phone call. They didn't know how to explain things to one another they couldn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">understand</u> themselves. Gerrard's anxiety arose in his chest. He had to <u>take</u> <u>a</u> <u>stand</u> before history repeats itself. It was like something <u style="font-weight: bold;">SNAPPED</u>. Gerrard began to <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRESSFULLY</u> become ill. He wanted the obliveration of every nerve connected to his skin. </div><div><br /></div><div>Gerrard's mother pulled over in a <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">panic</u>. After several minutes of <u style="font-weight: bold;">trying</u>, Gerrard gave up. <u>Calming</u> his anxiety with closed eyes. His mother feared Gerrard was going to kill himself. What came out of his mouth was an animal cry. Gerrard lodged his knees into his chest and pressed his side <u style="font-weight: bold;">against</u> the passenger door. Gerrard's mother took this as a yes. She put <u style="font-weight: bold;">being</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MOTHER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">first</u>. She put her <u style="font-weight: bold;">SON</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">first</u>. Gerrard had the benefit of <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWING</u> it. He was <b><u>ALIVE</u>!</b> All that mattered. <i style="font-weight: bold;">A mother knows when something's <u>not</u> right</i>. After <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYTHING</u> that happened, Gerrard wondered the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u> of it all? How did her survive it?</div><div><br /></div><div>What Gerrard lived through could've had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">WORSE</u> outcome. On some days, it was hard to believe he lived in a world that operated on <u style="font-weight: bold;">SUCH</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EXTREMES</u><span> of self-annihilation. After turning on the news, Gerrard <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">lucked</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> compared to others; but still the same. What Gerard <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">understand</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">HOW</u> every person involved became mixed in the ex-gay movement. What in the hell drew them to <u>L</u>ove-<u>I</u>n-<u>A</u>ction's doors? Gerrard took a mental trip dumbfounded to find a reason why? <u>Always</u>, Gerrard traces it back to his father. There <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> be something mentally wondering why? Why would Gerrard's father put him through this?</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Gerrard was lying in his bed in a tiny apartment in Auburn, AL. 2 years into a master's degree in creative writing. Looking back, Gerrard couldn't believe this private shame was made public. Gerrard felt protective of this information. The tone of the <u style="font-style: italic;">This American Life</u>; this voice Gerrard had tried to forget reached to declare a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> that he thought would <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> come to fruition and deny. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> that has only gotten <u style="font-weight: bold;">BETTER</u> with time. This was only the beginning of many public apologies. It will take <u style="font-weight: bold;">YEARS</u> before Gerrard finds the <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRENGTH</u> to finish the pages of his own story. Going <u>home</u> won't <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">like</u> <u>home</u>. It'll take time. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Years</u> later, when Gerrard informed his father on the publication of <u style="font-weight: bold;">THIS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">BOOK</u>; is something he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> write. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEEDED</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">FIND</u> Himself. In the end, he wanted for Gerrard to find happiness. Hard-to-believe, Gerrard will <u style="font-weight: bold;">inevitably</u> believe his father.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRVQ8RCsKxWtBQAKWiz3lNNMSZ1owQX9HdeYX4HTTdacxqQuArTmzlOQMj-dqhyphenhyphen8iGccc-G9-3wLhSBiVfw5J9odW6zSDwXMKVhZ4-fBZUGRviOHmySUwspK2BxtkW0mYZqKzRobkrbq7K/s649/be.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="649" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRVQ8RCsKxWtBQAKWiz3lNNMSZ1owQX9HdeYX4HTTdacxqQuArTmzlOQMj-dqhyphenhyphen8iGccc-G9-3wLhSBiVfw5J9odW6zSDwXMKVhZ4-fBZUGRviOHmySUwspK2BxtkW0mYZqKzRobkrbq7K/s320/be.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Although this was published in 2017, an <u style="font-weight: bold;">AMAZINGLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REMARKABLE</u> film was made in 2018 featuring Lucas Hedges as Jared Emmons (Gerrard), Nicole Kidman portraying the role of his mother, Nancy and Russell Crowe in the role of his father, Marshall. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-19482208230639172492021-01-08T21:00:00.001-08:002021-01-08T21:00:05.483-08:00Songteller:My Life In Lyrics<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkuxS9GPiohl6ZEryMR7mlabZpJgixeuMvoALVh5Tqk0ngh9Q8n3Nssfbrpn_yIBmKxjNZEB64r5Z_Tp5HTWtqZp-5p-vjgS3SRP0Q9HUi74bV-7v7_K9RmfWUkGAOaThFM-Eq2zTB0Di/s258/songteller.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="195" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkuxS9GPiohl6ZEryMR7mlabZpJgixeuMvoALVh5Tqk0ngh9Q8n3Nssfbrpn_yIBmKxjNZEB64r5Z_Tp5HTWtqZp-5p-vjgS3SRP0Q9HUi74bV-7v7_K9RmfWUkGAOaThFM-Eq2zTB0Di/w303-h400/songteller.jpeg" width="303" /></a></div>To begin this brand-new 2021 year, I thought I would shine a light of positivity and revelation. This isn't even a biography. It's a life lived written through song. Whilst everyone knows of these songs, this book contains the stories in which these songs came into musical fruition. This is a once-in-a-lifetime storybook written from the heart. Here is the songbook of the life story of <u style="font-weight: bold;">ICONIC</u> country music <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGEND</u>, Dolly Rebecca Parton. <p></p><p><u style="font-style: italic;">Songteller</u> celebrates the chronicle of one of America's greatest songwriters in only <u>she</u> can tell it. As a songwriter, Dolly is influenced by everything around her. From the people around her, and by her own joys and sorrows. Writing from her heart, Dolly has touched on ALOT of issues. </p><p>When she was young, the Parton family didn't go to the movies, so Dolly created her own stories. It was kind of embedded in her to make up songs & stories. She used to love to go to graveyards alot. She would read somebody's name on a stone or see their grave as a kid and wonder what the story was behind the stone. These days, inspiration can strike <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">time</u>. Whenever something strikes. From there, Dolly zones into it. Dolly is a singer, an entertainer, and a business woman. But, if she had to choose just one thing to be, she would be a songwriter. The songs lead to everything else. <u>Everything</u> starts with that song. Dolly has often said that her songs are her children. At the end of the day, Dolly hopes to be remembered as a good songwriter. These songs are her legacy.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This book is a <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">VALUABLE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TREASURE</u> for <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">FAN</u> of Dolly's</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeJFGEGvT4TXpgCepuio0OuZlFeGwTmxQ_U8WIPHR5e0MO9BhrO0N19WM5DI_QxcVFyPPIM19NU_uBrusJyb8sjMdp-2DUBXAoFZp4bbXX3VtJhG9jff9pUgaAaQEejDLoyyhcpMtZgLz/s738/dream+more.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeJFGEGvT4TXpgCepuio0OuZlFeGwTmxQ_U8WIPHR5e0MO9BhrO0N19WM5DI_QxcVFyPPIM19NU_uBrusJyb8sjMdp-2DUBXAoFZp4bbXX3VtJhG9jff9pUgaAaQEejDLoyyhcpMtZgLz/s320/dream+more.jpg" /></a></div>(<i>For the entirety of Dolly's story that is written in this book</i>, <i>there is also Dolly's book; </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Dream More</u><span style="font-style: italic;"> which is previously published</span>.)<p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv99xws90Kci05kn1ijYChnsLzqOkU2DPNHsb2dnzSPac5KL5tE-se0zC3et3khAC0QYmQcuABSMLP4hGWt5MtdnxzWe4vXO3b7LYYpHjItU88HjII7uLlbuzvbWQORcqIBmrYXNHt3FD9/s1000/dolly+signature.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv99xws90Kci05kn1ijYChnsLzqOkU2DPNHsb2dnzSPac5KL5tE-se0zC3et3khAC0QYmQcuABSMLP4hGWt5MtdnxzWe4vXO3b7LYYpHjItU88HjII7uLlbuzvbWQORcqIBmrYXNHt3FD9/w400-h400/dolly+signature.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-58578694167253130612020-12-31T20:45:00.006-08:002020-12-31T20:45:00.255-08:00End Of 2020<p> Well, here goes one <u style="font-weight: bold;">GIANT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TULMULTUOUS</u><b> </b>year. We have <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> had <u style="font-weight: bold;">SO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MUCH</u> happen throughout thanks to this pandemic. I have personally had my own health complications whereas spending <u style="font-weight: bold;">MORE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THAN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HALF</u> of this 2020 year in the hospital (February-September straight through). <b><u>NO</u> </b>transplant complications and <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> coronavirus; but it was one thing right after another. Including a <u style="font-weight: bold;">MASSIVE</u> fear to release me due to being protected from the pandemic that was arising whilst being already admitted. My transplanted kidney is doing just fine. Reading has been very fortunate and pleasing when <u>uninterrupted</u>. While for some in the hospital, reading <b><u>wasn't</u></b> as pleasant for me due to being without so. I <b><u>DO</u></b> intend on picking up my reading in the next year with more stories, more lessons to learn from those who I read upon. There may be some surprises; but I hope people will stay tuned and enjoy what's to come.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><u style="font-weight: bold;">THANK</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">YOU</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYONE</u> whom has checked out, commented learned from this blog. I hope that with <u style="font-weight: bold;">SINCEREST</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATITUDE</u> everyone will know how <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> I am that people will return.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcxo6ASlX222cDq_FypTNF2Cr30yLrXCS04kv_zWON1jgwfeuZDbZWOHkHg7hrcudPQFKRLIArnfhjizyKYqLt-wGbgBa2Wvx_HBNf_ksLO71QfBQhuZkOICLidG-Jjtz5tsR_Tb3l5C6g/s498/thank+you.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="498" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcxo6ASlX222cDq_FypTNF2Cr30yLrXCS04kv_zWON1jgwfeuZDbZWOHkHg7hrcudPQFKRLIArnfhjizyKYqLt-wGbgBa2Wvx_HBNf_ksLO71QfBQhuZkOICLidG-Jjtz5tsR_Tb3l5C6g/w640-h426/thank+you.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-43211274540565693432020-10-22T15:17:00.003-07:002020-12-08T20:16:10.754-08:00My Apologies...For 2019 YearTo Whom It May Concern,<br />
<br />
To those of you whom that like to read and or follow my blog; I want to give a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GIANT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THANK</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">YOU</u>. This 2020 year has been <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u> rocky for me personally. Whilst I have books in the works to read and blog about..I have <u style="font-weight: bold;">SINCEREST</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">REMORSE</u> for not keeping up. I have been in/out of it health wise. I have been feeling under the weather or 1,000% <b><u>WIPED</u>, <u>WORN</u> <u>&</u> <u>EXHAUSTED</u></b> what felt like the <u style="font-weight: bold;">MAJORITY</u> of this 2020 year. I have <b><u>LITERALLY</u></b> been in the hospital from February-to-September <u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THROUGH</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OUT</u>. <b><u>NONE</u></b> of it is transplant or coronavirus related, but it is just as I've stated. Some books that I have had lined up to read had no promises....I have to admit to falling prey to the inside of a cover jacket. While the cover and the jacket seem promising...I had fallen to not really <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> what was so promising in the author's work.<br />
<br />
But, the main aspect of the reason that I haven't kept up with this blog and entries is what I have previously stated. Therefore, I have been doing what I can to get myself well...get and stay rested when I can and <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> purge what has become overcrowded.<br />
<br />
I am so sorry for not keeping in-touch with my readings. But, this new 2020 year is becoming <u>promising</u> and setting a new goal to learn and grow and not fall into patterns. I hope that those who do check out my blog do stay tuned and see what is in store with future entries.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkGXBXJChtoitGdPQKpiyIZHaa87gOhszk-2kIJv10DgCxzAq2fw7_nn9G0IzbHU6nfqNmA02b4G5PaZ7VSfE03HtvdLsBaX7fckoDNv_AeTfkRI0Y0py5u57W1lYXRLvB2bx7M_xFYt3/s1600/best-thank-you-quotes-be-patience.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkGXBXJChtoitGdPQKpiyIZHaa87gOhszk-2kIJv10DgCxzAq2fw7_nn9G0IzbHU6nfqNmA02b4G5PaZ7VSfE03HtvdLsBaX7fckoDNv_AeTfkRI0Y0py5u57W1lYXRLvB2bx7M_xFYt3/s640/best-thank-you-quotes-be-patience.webp" width="426" /></a></div>
Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-54337553964280615212018-12-31T23:30:00.000-08:002019-01-10T14:01:13.804-08:00End Of 2018Whist this is the end of a really tumultous year, I have had some <b><u>REALLY</u> <u>HIGH</u> <u>HIGH'S</u> </b>and <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXTREMELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LOW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">LOW'S</u> throughout this 2018 year. Whether it was <b><u>OVERLY</u> <u>EXTREMELY</u> <u>SHITTY</u> </b>Indiana weather, Mourning family losses and other distractions from life; there have been books that I <b><u>HONESTLY</u> </b>have shelved that I intended to share their stories with you and plan on doing so with some <u style="font-weight: bold;">BRAND</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NEW</u> excellent stories and <b><u>REAL</u> <u>LIFE</u> </b>lessons to learn as I share them with you. I hope you all weren't disturbed with the recent losses of annual stories to share. But, there are some coming in the upcoming 2019 year. I hope you will all stay tuned to what will be in store. I want to <b><u>sincerely</u></b> thank those who have checked out my blog over the years and am very sorry for the loss of up-keep.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="Image result for thank you for being a friend" height="640" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS66m73lFuakdnuJYR0thyKR95LK8vBSZbSJWws_ZMSaVp3CjDzxw" width="640" />Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com168tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-36502595954660321402018-05-21T14:00:00.000-07:002018-06-14T15:34:49.313-07:00To Whom It May ConernFor those of you that read, check out and/or comment on my blog, I'd like to answer a few questions that have come across to me. The first question I'd like to address is the choosing of which books and references of what are inclined in this blog. As far as the choices of what I PERSONALLY pick to discuss is simply either 1) it piques my interest or it is somehow references into a part of <u><b>HISTORY</b></u> that is <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">NEVER</b> discussed in the world or classroom or is in somehow in society forgotten but to me is <u><b>STILL</b></u> <u><b>RELEVANT</b></u> <u><b>TODAY</b></u>. 2) For someone who has spent <u><b>MANY</b></u> <b><u>YEARS</u></b> on hemodialysis and is now transplanted, I would like to say that if it were someone of that I admire and find <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">interesting</b>, then I am/have always been one who has to know more about that person or event in time. Their story from <u style="font-weight: bold;">their</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">own</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">words</u>; which I <u style="font-weight: bold;">PERSONALLY</u> find better due to having read <u><b>their</b></u> words <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">themselves</b> rather than someone who researched it. (<i>The only qualm about that are the books that were written by those of an event or situation that occurred in prior times</i>. <i>For those certain books, there is a reference of which is shown in the blog which explains why I </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MORE</u><i> or <b>the <u>story</u> <u>behind</u> <u>the</u> <u>story</u></b></i>)<br />
<br />
As far as the design of my blog, it is one of my own choosing and the way I would like to see it formatted in which I designed myself. I never have had issues with plagiarism or copyright violations; due to addressing the author's name and references in which the books are written. Hopefully, this will address any/all concerns & questions in which have come my way. I want those of you who do have questions and comments to express, PLEASE DO! I also want to <u style="font-weight: bold;">THANK</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EACH</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PERSON</u> with whom has checked out my blog and have commented. I am <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> to those whom read and find something that ignites a learning desire for the unknown.Thanks again to those whom check out my blog and I hope you continue to read/check out my blog.<br />
<br />
<br />
As for the little postings that there have been, due to the clinical weather of which we were/have been, this blog is one what I hold dear and precious to my heart. When it comes to the little posts, it's due to unforeseen health reasons that have arisen. <b><u>Nothing</u></b> is wrong with my transplant, it's just been a year of <b><u>complete</u></b> and <u><b>total</b></u> exhaustion. From getting up in the morning and getting what needs to be done has drained me <u><b>completely</b></u>. But, I do have some books on the horizon that will be foreseen in this blog when the exhaustion wares/ I hope that those whom follow or read this blog will stay tuned to see what comes in the future. Thanks again to those whom check out, read and comment on my blog. . .I truly and sincerely do appreciate it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WZohrZa5Y6mZZ5HSCU0tKsltZwLFde_B9wkF48IqgBSEcmx5u7Z_9RlE0fMpkw2CHKUiFTIRFPum0iO01dx7OMtXYvITlrZDwnSg1WKbBQiXO6WUCSbZfN5ph0rcc4LinIFoY13JDdEI/s1600/thanks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="1024" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WZohrZa5Y6mZZ5HSCU0tKsltZwLFde_B9wkF48IqgBSEcmx5u7Z_9RlE0fMpkw2CHKUiFTIRFPum0iO01dx7OMtXYvITlrZDwnSg1WKbBQiXO6WUCSbZfN5ph0rcc4LinIFoY13JDdEI/s640/thanks.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com72tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-86106317634726742762018-02-28T10:00:00.000-08:002018-12-31T15:13:19.552-08:00A Hand To Guide Me: Leaders & Legends Celebrate The People Who Shaped Their Lives<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwpj9b8_xZnUD1CU0J-JFpiDKmK8BqVXPF1gwL_MMHCcS5CtuRY5jOeYKM6A-bvNNDybu1BhPba7fHWS-gpPgsuk-9wmNpHC6pZsUjbU7lU5_1fAmr09CBWk0xiqzI5JHMlQBXpNdo4Ke/s1600/denzel+washington.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="333" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwpj9b8_xZnUD1CU0J-JFpiDKmK8BqVXPF1gwL_MMHCcS5CtuRY5jOeYKM6A-bvNNDybu1BhPba7fHWS-gpPgsuk-9wmNpHC6pZsUjbU7lU5_1fAmr09CBWk0xiqzI5JHMlQBXpNdo4Ke/s400/denzel+washington.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
This new book is one I found something <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">profound</u> in this new found book written by <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDARY</u> actor and author with his first book; Denzel Washington. In this book, Denzel writes of his own personal story; along with other Legends & Leaders in the world that tells of their <u style="font-weight: bold;">PERSONAL</u> stories that defined a moment that <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> shaped their lives. Without giving too much away, this intimate reflection <u><b>proves</b></u> that one helping hand can change their lives.<br />
<br />
From actors to those in government, along with many, many more, this book may give you a different respect in a brand-new light and perspective after seeing their perspectives.<br />
<br />
<i>Train up a child in the way he should go</i>, <i>and when he is old he will not depart from it</i>. - Proverbs<br />
<br />
"<i>Show me a successful individual and I'll show you someone who didn't want for <u>positive</u> influences in his/her life.</i>" - Denzel Washington<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAsAuUliWRNtH6vQdM9VfdEN9fh-cO2PfMjjGifYuBSrIqhKW7-v1OagcZXPElGEBSfADohsTgVC4bcG5BAuqlvhyphenhyphen0G6m4a6V5zbYZqdsyDzKa6oTwuOpm65E3etqknBJkYs-0sTxJoHW/s1600/boys_girls-clubs-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="200" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfAsAuUliWRNtH6vQdM9VfdEN9fh-cO2PfMjjGifYuBSrIqhKW7-v1OagcZXPElGEBSfADohsTgVC4bcG5BAuqlvhyphenhyphen0G6m4a6V5zbYZqdsyDzKa6oTwuOpm65E3etqknBJkYs-0sTxJoHW/s200/boys_girls-clubs-logo.jpg" width="200" /></a>For Denzel, the center of his everything from the time he was 6-yrs-old. From where he learned to play ball, learned to focus and set his mind on a goal, where he learned how to be a man was the <u style="font-style: italic;">Boy's Club</u>.<br />
<br />
Others speaking in this book that speak of <u>their</u> <u>own</u> <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">personal</b> moments are of the following:<br />
<u>ICONIC</u> boxer Muhammad Ali, Screenwriter & author Antwone Quinton Fisher; Actor Danny Glover, Whoopi Goldberg; Retired Juvenile Court Judge Glenda Hatchett; actor Mario Lopez, Musician John Mellancamp. Plus Many, Many More. Moments that either reflect on what made them and/or <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> shaped their lives and perspectives.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
While this blog may be short, the reasons in which I can't describe, are that the stories told are best written by those whom stories were reflected.Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-31577761101072393332017-12-31T19:30:00.000-08:002018-01-01T14:37:53.700-08:00End Of 2017To Whom It May Concern,<br />
<br />
For those of you that read, check out and follow my blog, I want to give you the <u><b>SINCEREST</b></u> of thank you's. While this year's books have been exciting, the year itself hasn't. While I, myself, am always reading a book, there are points where life gets in the way. That explains why the shortest of what would generally be a long list of books read. I do want to sincerely thank those of you that continue to read and/or comment on what you've read. I do want to continue educating myself, as well as those who take something out of the books that I've read and you've gotten something out of it to learn. Hopefully, the books that come about in 2018 will be something to look forward to as well as something you consider seeing what I did/do.<br />
<br />
<br />
Here's to 2018.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiN83tyu4tL5dBBFH6vF2yjWYyh_-e9mn8l1zTFWEyTatguRmpzCv8IO3qHvtP9eZMUAd9abxA8J7kNQArJ5MWd3Mi4nCHzsE54D0ZmXlj2NJLPo9E9fgLYQKl9rTyN8BpHUiXNH8h3Kv/s1600/thank-you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="768" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiN83tyu4tL5dBBFH6vF2yjWYyh_-e9mn8l1zTFWEyTatguRmpzCv8IO3qHvtP9eZMUAd9abxA8J7kNQArJ5MWd3Mi4nCHzsE54D0ZmXlj2NJLPo9E9fgLYQKl9rTyN8BpHUiXNH8h3Kv/s320/thank-you.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-31888697688022664692017-10-13T18:30:00.000-07:002017-10-20T13:36:26.896-07:0013 Reasons Why<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnMsoxAc0pvrsraaPPkzqsqlIFh-iV4XL9f9Tc3_YJ5ZGxc_66oPiqXNep7MbYxOxCkNIJO0n2CcyXWgzPgDVH7lipCHpRCXD8k6NBYyjb0oFSw5_FUpg9FhzPZeEm21oVQUBEf2TsZN2/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnMsoxAc0pvrsraaPPkzqsqlIFh-iV4XL9f9Tc3_YJ5ZGxc_66oPiqXNep7MbYxOxCkNIJO0n2CcyXWgzPgDVH7lipCHpRCXD8k6NBYyjb0oFSw5_FUpg9FhzPZeEm21oVQUBEf2TsZN2/s400/cover.jpg" width="260" /></a>This next book is one that tells the story of a young girl, Hannah Baker's, own demise. It isn't just her story; it evolves around her friend, Clay Jensen. Clay begins to hear through audio tapes one-by-one that Hannah had left behind explaining the root of her actions. As he listens, he begins to find out <u>who</u> his best friend <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> was. So, throughout this book, you see Clay and his friends involvement that parlayed explaining her <u style="font-style: italic;">13 Reasons Why</u> that <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> changes his life.<br />
<br />
A Baker's Dozen. That was what was sent to certain addresses due to arrive in multiple areas/doorsteps the following day. Sent by postal service with no return address. As the kids were in the classroom, they had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> a package awaited them when they got home. The only difference was the absence of student Hannah. The previous yesterday, one hour after school had ended. The first to receive his shoe-box sized package was Clay. As Clay got home and began to open the shoe-box, he came upon a rolled-up tube of bubble-wrap. He then discovered seven loose audiotapes. Since each tape had a Number painted on the right-hand corner with its own number, each tape was front & back (1 & 2 and so on). The last tape was <u>only</u> <u>1</u> <u>side</u>. #13.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBe2W_pwkAdMlg1DChKnAoP_4ZKMgjE67_1AqBKtsTnnt5EY2U7mVD-XDhhJZi0BZMod_9JAnh3T5ovtBOAyCDWvSymwtq5ae4tz2I_DUtT47mHzaeHsK9CjxZ30GAFKsGNPdpHWMjJUY/s1600/tape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBe2W_pwkAdMlg1DChKnAoP_4ZKMgjE67_1AqBKtsTnnt5EY2U7mVD-XDhhJZi0BZMod_9JAnh3T5ovtBOAyCDWvSymwtq5ae4tz2I_DUtT47mHzaeHsK9CjxZ30GAFKsGNPdpHWMjJUY/s320/tape.jpg" width="200" /></a>Clay begins to wonder of why on audiotapes? Thinking no one used them anymore. In search of a player, Clay found one in his garage. It was belonging to Clay's dad. A stereo. (<i>If it works</i>; <i>it works</i>). Clay dragged out a stool, dropped his backpack on the floor and began <u>listen</u>ing to tape #1.<br />
<br />
As Clay began to listen, he began to find out that by listening; everyone had a part responsible for Hannah's demise; <u>including</u> <u>him</u>. Unsure what tape brings him into the story; Hannah <u>promised</u> his name <u style="font-weight: bold;">WILL</u> pop-up. She had this meticulously planned out: You listen to the tapes then you pass it on. Clay begins to listen to this in <u>private</u>. Then he began to quit due to his mom walking in. Trying to turn the stereo off before she heard. <i style="font-weight: bold;">While yes</i><b>,</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> it is wrong to lie</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">sometimes there's a </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">NEED</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> for it</i>. Clay told his mom it was for a class project. Just an instant panic answer. He tried his best to get his mom's attention <u>averted</u> from what he's doing. A History project. After a kiss on the forehead, he is left in peace. When the doors close, he goes back to begin <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">intent</b>ly listening. A little <u><i><b>shaken</b></i></u>, he diverts his attention wishing he never seen it. <u>Saying</u> it was easy but, Clay had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> what he was about to hear. One of the most <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">frightening</u> things he'd ever done. He <u>had</u> <u>to</u> continue on.<br />
<br />
Hannah declares that as per directions, if they were tempted to break the foreseen rules, she had made copies of the tapes that were to be distributed in a very public manner <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">if</u> the package doesn't make it through. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> a spur-of-the-moment decision. They were being watched. Clay hardly knew Hannah Baker. He wanted to. He wanted to know more of her if he had the chance. They had worked together over the summer at the movie theater. Not long before that, they had made out at a party. But never had the chance to get closer. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">once</u> did Clay take Hannah for granted. Clay had thought the situation was a <u>terrible</u> joke at first. Hannah Baker's suicide tapes were getting passed around. Clay began overlooking the situation. Thinking he was involved as a joke. At school, he wondered if he was the butt of an endless prank where he was a victim? He didn't know. Hannah did relay that those who've received the tapes; should've received a map. Clay was indeed on the list.<br />
<br />
A few weeks before Hannah had taken the pills, an envelope was slipped through the vent of Clay's locker. It was an envelope that was to be <u>SAVED</u>. It <u>WILL</u> <u>BE</u> <u>NEEDED</u>. Inside the envelope was a folded-up map of the city w/ certain locations marked around town. The methods Hannah used in her tools were learned in elementary school. Clay had kept Hannah's map in his backpack. After forgetting about it for awhile; Clay stumbled upon it. Throughout the tapes, Hannah mentioned several spots around the city for them to see if they wanted more <u>insight</u> if they wanted to know more of Hannah's mystery. After feeling the weight of his backpack upon his leg, Clay found the map at the bottom of the heavy backpack. Listening more . . . . Hannah mentions the <u>FIRST</u> person on the tapes; Justin Foley.<br />
<br />
Justin Foley was a senior who was Hannah's first kiss. Her very first hand to hold, but <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u>. An average guy. But, there was <u>something</u> about him that made her want to be his girlfriend. A sense that came through <b><u>STRONGLY</u>!</b> The previous 2 years when Hannah was a freshman and he was a sophomore, she used to follow him around. <u>Hear</u>ing this, Clay wondered when the tape would get to the portion concerning <u style="font-weight: bold;">him</u>. Tape 2? 3? Hell, #13? Hannah declared that Justin played a <u style="font-weight: bold;">HUGE</u> role in her demise. Whether small-or-<u>HUGE</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">everyone</u> had a role. Betrayal. One of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> feelings. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> just <u style="font-weight: bold;">what</u> they'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">DONE</u> to Hannah. Clay was taken aback to <b><u>WHAT</u>?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
The summer before freshman year where they lived when they first came to town. That was when Hannah first seen Justin; whom was in love w/ Hannah's best friend, Kat. At the end-of-school dance, Justin & Kat were <u>together</u>. A magical moment between the 2. It wasn't so much of what Hannah <u>said</u>; the meaning was that it <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">said</u>. Hearing this; Clay was wondering <i>What's your point</i>, <i>Hannah</i>? Basketball was when Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> Justin playing. Zach Dempsey had come up. The only time Clay seen Zach was when he was with Hannah. The first time he met her. Clay had to think & pinpoint when & where. At first, he <u>thought</u> to throw it all away; the tapes; everything. But, <u>hearing</u> Hannah's voice, Clay couldn't bring himself to do it. And because of the rules, Clay looks at the shoe-box and wondered if Hannah's words & rules were <u>valid</u> about the copies? <i>What If's</i> abound. With the situation at hand, <u style="font-style: italic;">who</u> was willing to test Hannah's bluff?<br />
<br />
The party was when Clay had first <u>met</u> Hannah Baker. He thought she was pretty. New to this town, that was what <u style="font-weight: bold;">GOT</u> Clay/ <b><i>There is no better feeling then that to have been </i><u>GOTTEN</u>!</b> When around the opposite sex, Clay was tongue-tied. But around Hannah Baker, he could be the NEW & IMPROVED high school-er freshman, Clay Jensen. After Kat had moved away before the start of school, Hannah fell in love w/ the boy she left behind. The boy began to fall for her. <i>When around them in school</i>, <i>you want to void classes just to be <u><b>with</b></u> them</i>. At Kat's party, everyone's hanging around the patio even though it was the coldest night of the summer. After awhile, Hannah managed to say hello. Leading to a conversation. She left her jacket at home due to wanting her new skirt to be seen. At the party, Clay bent down to tie his shoe during his first conversation with Hannah Baker. Hannah had asked her mom how to get a boy's attention; play hard to get. Sure enough it worked. Zach began waiting around for Hannah after class. Hannah practiced being real calm & confident like she really didn't care. She was <i style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: underline;">cautious</i>. New town. New school. Hannah was <u>in</u> <u>control</u> of how people seen her. <i>How often does someone get to re-invent themselves</i>?<br />
<br />
Hannah was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">excited</u> that Justin was taking down her phone number. along with Justin's interaction with her. From Clay's hearings, he heads over to a friend, Tony's, house for a "<i>project</i>" after this side of the tape ends. While Tony doesn't classify as a close friend, he & Clay would be considered acquaintances. Most importantly, Tony owned a skinny <u style="font-style: italic;">Walkman</u> that still played tapes. Clay took a few of them with him to listen to them on the way through Hannah's old neighborhood. Clay needed room to breathe and <u style="font-weight: bold;">take</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> what he was hearing. What it was that Hannah seen in Justin was the same as the rest of the other young ladies. Hannah goes into the relationship details. By <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">her</b> description of her audio on the tapes, Hannah may have wanted to a kiss. A freshman girl who had never been kissed. He liked her and she was going to kiss him. There is her story. But, there's the other side. A side she begins to <u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u>.<br />
<br />
Hannah's first kiss was one of <u>innocence</u>; or that's what <u style="font-weight: bold;">she</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> it to be. <u>Innocent</u>. Hannah had taken off her skirt and <u>allowed</u> Justin to filter under her shirt. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">was</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u>. But, why the location in a park? Hannah's <u>dream</u> date at the park ventures into a nightmare. Going into detail of Hannah's night. When hearing of their first kiss, it reminded Clay of his in the 7TH grade w/ Andrea Williams, after school behind the gym. Speaking a proposition into his ear, Clay was hard-up for the rest of the day. After the kiss, Clay found he was a pawn on a $50.00 bet. Hannah's first kiss with Justin was at the bottom of a slide in the park. Continuing a canoodling at the park. Afterward, they split up going their own ways. Clay can still see those invited within this situation just as he normally would at school.<br />
<br />
Clay wanted to talk to Hannah so many times after Kat's going away party. but was too shy. <u>Watch</u>ing Justin & his friends, Clay got the <u>sense</u> there was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> to Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">than</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">he</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u>. Rumors abound overshadowed everything<b> </b>else Clay knew about her. He <u><b>thought</b></u> Hannah was too experienced to even <u>think</u> about him. One <u>innocent</u> kiss was wonderful for Hannah. But then Justin began bragging. One thing led to another and the rumor mill began. Trouble is; you can't <u style="font-weight: bold;">PROVE</u> a rumor. It <b><u>wasn't</u></b> about a kiss; it was about the special memory involved being ruined. <u>One</u> rumor creates a snowball effect. That, for Hannah, is only the beginning.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoM47RFZ7RJa6Bz9P-mwE4uBELXZrc2MoVDR9wqfDinEjEdgvENjti4bvvfJkUW-fLG1SDkza0-tu2Xt2GI0SdvO7gYpMg9K_5sfD8NeDNjFLKPiMZCCaK9EZOHhJavU5CfjHEgs_7CtY/s1600/side+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsoM47RFZ7RJa6Bz9P-mwE4uBELXZrc2MoVDR9wqfDinEjEdgvENjti4bvvfJkUW-fLG1SDkza0-tu2Xt2GI0SdvO7gYpMg9K_5sfD8NeDNjFLKPiMZCCaK9EZOHhJavU5CfjHEgs_7CtY/s320/side+b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Clay then goes to his friend, Tony's, in <b><u>need</u></b> to borrow a Walkman. Tony & his father were in the midst of working on a car. Clay begins to wonder if Tony knows about the tapes? Beginning to mentally <b><u><i>wonder</i></u></b> it <u><b>all</b></u>. Behind the passenger seat, on the floor, is the Walkman, just sitting there. Clay grabs it. Just like that; without thinking about it; Sticking it into the middle pocket of his backpack and zips it shut. After the car work is done, Clay begins to depart while Tony is grateful Clay came over; otherwise they'd be working on the car <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">night</u>. Around the time the street lights came on, Clay begins to depart for home trying not to tip off Tony about the need for the Walkman. Thinking if they've mentioned Tony on the tapes somewhere along the way. Yes, Clay did take/steal Tony's Walkman. As he gets farther down the road, Clay slides his bike to get into his backpack and begins to <u>listen</u> to B-side without delay.<br />
<br />
When Clay gets back to the tapes, Hannah reveals that on Side B, she divulges that Alex Standall was up next. This would be evening around/after dinner. When he first seen the list that was given to him in <u style="font-style: italic;">History</u> class, there were a few names that Clay didn't recognize. Maybe he hadn't met them yet, or wasn't sure he had their names right. But, Clay <u>knew</u> Hannah's name. She was building quite a reputation in a short amount of time. Clay was <u>realiz</u>ing that Hannah's reputation <u>began</u> in Justin Foley's imagination. Thanks to the teacher approaching, Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> find her name on the list; <u>not</u> <u>even</u> <u>caring</u> about class. Eventually, she found her name. The teacher snatched the list away and Hannah turned forward to <u>pay</u> <u>attention</u>. After getting the nerve to look again, she snuck a peek. A list that depicted the differences between Hannah Baker & Jessica Davis. Clay, himself, disagreed with the list and would've voted Hannah. All the way down.<br />
<br />
Clay is listening. Hannah, in audio, had looked over the <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRETY</u> of this list. Every single event documented may <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">have</u> happened had Alex not written Hannah's name on this list. It was just that simple. Thanks to Justin's imagination, Hannah was the perfect choice for the list. A snowball effect. Clay can see that Alex's list was horrible w/ bad consequences that <u style="font-weight: bold;">AFFECTED</u> Hannah. Clay begins to wonder what affect he had on Hannah and what views others would have on him? How could his name be on this list? <b><u>What</u> <u>did</u> <u>he</u> <u>do</u>?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Hannah's old house is flooding Clay with memories of the past. An auto accident had happened in <u>front</u> of her house with a husband, wife & son. The area is <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">as</u> Hannah described on the tapes. A senior from their school was in the car. Clay shouted for a few of them until his gut told him to stay for an ambulance arrival. Then the husband left to be with his wife. It was <u>then</u> that it <u style="font-weight: bold;">HIT</u> Clay of it being Hannah's old house. With Clay <u>in</u> <u>front</u> of Hannah's former home, he goes through and wonders "<i>What If</i>'<i>s</i>?" When it came to the list that was passed around, it made Hannah feel as though that list gave people the go-ahead to treat her that way. Ever since her arrival. Hannah rode a blue bike to school with her backpack in tow! Bypassing Clay, he watched her ride down a long path of sidewalk as she disappears. It was amazing how a town can change so much that's been falling apart for years.<br />
<br />
Hannah had been viewed according to the list as <u style="font-style: italic;">Best Ass In The Freshman Class</u>. It didn't hurt her; but what right was it for <u>her</u> <u>name</u> to be on <u>that</u> list? She had to dispel what was thought of her due to the list. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> what Hannah was talking about when someone had grabbed her wrist and spun her around. He had seen it before. It always made Clay want to retaliate until they let go of Hannah. But, <u>every time</u> he pretended not to notice. They would only be "<i>joking</i>" when he was grabbing Hannah's arm. <u>Staying</u> in Her memory the walk home. First his words - then his actions. Hannah wonders the <u style="font-weight: bold;">meanings</u> of words said. What a guy <u>says</u> <u>vs</u>. what he is <u>SAYING</u>! Clay is beginning to understand. He is beginning to <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u> what Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">means</u>. Opening up a black hole in the pit of his stomach.<br />
<br />
The categorical list feels like a given excuse. An exercise for a guy to use Hannah's tip - If you touch a girl, even as a joke, and she pushes you off - <u style="font-weight: bold;">leave</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">her</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fuck</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">alone</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">DON'T</u> touch her <b><u>ANYWHERE</u>!</b> At a friend's house last summer, a game of spin-the-bottle to crack those whom <u>hadn't</u> played the game <u>before</u>. Clay refused to let the game end until his spin landed on Angela or vice-versa. When it came to Hannah, she wanted that to be known. When you hold people up for ridicule, you have to take responsibility when other people act on it. Later on in the night, Clay & Angela made out on the back porch. All because of a list. After Hannah made some clear ups on the list, Jessica was next on the list. This ends Clay's finishing to the 1ST tape. Now, tape #2.<br />
<br />
The way to get through these tapes is step-by-step. One foot in front of the other. Things get better or worse; depending on how you <u>see</u> it. Hannah wasn't completely alone the beginning of her freshman year. 2 other freshman whom were both featured in Hannah's tapes, were new to the area. Alex Standall & Jessica Davis. They may never have been close, but they relied on each other the first few weeks of school. Listening to the tapes, Clay wonders if mentioned <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> teacher, Mr. Porter, had something to do w/ this equation? Clay feels the atmosphere around him swirl. Having to grab onto a tree trunk for stability. He is in the mode of a panic attack. Touching upon his forehead against a smooth back and try to calm his breathing.<br />
<br />
When rumors of Hannah's unexplained absence began spreading through school, Mr. Porter asked the class why he kept hearing her name mentioned in the halls? He <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u>; but wanted to believe otherwise. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Staring</u> at Hannah's desk. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> said a word. Then he left. Mr. Porter walked out of class and didn't return for a week. After an incidental meeting, Hannah met classmate, Jessica. Clay had never ridden a city bus before, never had a reason to. Getting darker & colder by the minute.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZFrsgrpkg0Xld7Mhil1_aiIY9nXc2i-y-fhzxSKdtzEDSFxOruWTQhLmLiDOHAyZ0gtSeIl_zCjFcHGcsRT3zjJCEUNArQhFLYPMrfvB14N-noL9WDPLWf1fX7KrB8cpY6kpbLaHR24v/s1600/the+max.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="980" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZFrsgrpkg0Xld7Mhil1_aiIY9nXc2i-y-fhzxSKdtzEDSFxOruWTQhLmLiDOHAyZ0gtSeIl_zCjFcHGcsRT3zjJCEUNArQhFLYPMrfvB14N-noL9WDPLWf1fX7KrB8cpY6kpbLaHR24v/s320/the+max.jpg" width="320" /></a>Taking the bus home at night, the glass may be cold, but resting his head relaxes Clay. He'll just sit & listen to the tapes. Falling asleep in the process. A few months later after Hannah & Justin Foley break up, after the rumors began, Alex began a list. Hot-or-not list. As much as he wants to, Clay wants; but <u style="font-weight: bold;">can't</u> rewind the past and prevent Hannah & Justin from meeting. At the beginning with an awkward conversation/introduction, Hannah Jessica & Alex ignited a friendship. Never thinking it would be as it became. Establishment <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">Garden</u> was their safe haven. Clay knew of it; only being there a few times. <i><u>Monet'</u>s</i> truly filled whatever void needed filled at the time. (<i>Think - </i><u style="font-style: italic;">The Max</u> <i>from </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Saved By The Bell</u><i> or </i><u style="font-style: italic;">The Peach Pit</u><i> from </i><u><i>Beverly Hills</i>, <i>90210</i></u>) The first friend to drop out from Hannah was Alex. Becoming just a Hi in passing one another. Things between Hannah & Jessica began to change <u>fast</u>. Hannah slowly quit going to <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u> as well. Clay makes his way off the bus as he's listening at <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u>.<br />
<br />
It was there at <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u> that Hannah was shown a listed presented by Jessica. It was a <u style="font-style: italic;">WHO'S HOT</u><i>/</i><u style="font-style: italic;">WHO'S NOT</u> list. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> what side she was on - according to Alex. Clay had taken a hard swallow when he read; he passed it down the aisle without a thought. Looking back. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">realizes</u> he should've grabbed <u>e</u><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">very</b> copy he could find and thrown them all away. Hannah <u>seen</u> that she was chosen by Alex to get back at Jessica; but no <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> intent for <u style="font-weight: bold;">HER</u>. Similar to hearing gossip and whether you <u style="font-weight: bold;">BELIEVE</u> it <u style="font-weight: bold;">OR</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u>. When Hannah had moved to town, she <u>thought</u> she had left rumors/gossip behind her . . . .for good. Hannah felt she could <u style="font-weight: bold;">TELL</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u>; but rumors were against her. When one rumor quells with a previous one, it's even <u style="font-weight: bold;">harder</u> for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> to be believed. Therein lies Justin Foley. It was easier for Jessica to think of Hannah as a bad girl, rather than the Hannah she got to know at <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u>.<br />
<br />
Clay remembers a bunch of guys whom were joking in the locker room. Everyone <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> what was said. After the crowd cleaned, Alex & Clay remained. Clay did have a tiny bit of jealousy. Ever since Kat's going away party, he couldn't get Hannah out of his mind. Clay didn't want to hear negative of Hannah Baker. Due to Alex's list, Hannah took responsibility where there was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CAUSE</u> for her to. But all <u>Jessica</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">heard</u> was Hannah taking blame. Therein, Jessica swung, punching Hannah in the face. The scar left on her face Clay noticed at the party. A tiny flaw that he found cute. Moments later, Hannah began to find out. A punch in the stomach and a slap in the face. A knife in her back due to a rumor <u>believed</u> over the <b><u>TRULY</u> <u>INNOCENT</u>!</b> Hannah wished Jessica noticed the scars she left behind. There was <u>no</u> funeral for Hannah Baker.<br />
<br />
In honor of Hannah, Clay considered a hot chocolate. The only coffee shop, <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u> that serves them. But, when getting to the counter and is asked, Clay spouted for a coffee because he's cheap. The hot chocolate is a $1.00 more. Clay pours in half-in-half to coat the bottom of the mug. The rest he fills in with <i><u>Hairy Chest Blend</u></i> due to <u>sounding</u> highly caffeinated in hopes to stay up and finish the tapes. He feels in a need to finish them <b><u>THAT</u> <u>NIGHT</u>!</b> Then doubt intervenes of how. When asked in public what Clay's listening to, he replies with a lie of them being just tapes. He's finding out the waitress was a classmate he shared a class with; wood shop. A classmate Clay doesn't remember. She remembered him as <u style="font-style: italic;">Nice Guy Clay</u>. He <u>wondered</u> if what she was saying would've been a different point of view if <u>she'd</u> heard the tapes? After Hannah's suicide, but <u>before</u> the box of tapes arrived, Clay found himself walking by Hannah's mom & dad's shoe store many times. It was the store that brought her to town many times. After 34 years in business, the owner of the store was looking to sell and retire. And Hannah's parents were looking to move.<br />
<br />
Clay was trying to understand what his reasoning's were for trying to connect w/ Hannah outside of school. Looking for answers behind her. The day after Hannah's suicide was the first time Clay found himself at their store standing at the front door. Lights out with a note of <u>CLOSED</u> written in a hurry. After returning a few days later, even more notes were stuck to the glass. On his way home from school, Clay went by the store one more time. The compiling notes were becoming unstuck falling to the ground. Clay simply thought they left without getting things in order. Followed by a fear of what she <u style="font-weight: bold;">hasn't</u> said yet, of what's to come, when Clay's turn comes, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> it's coming and wants it over with. <b><u>What</u> <u>did</u> <u>he</u> <u>do</u>?</b> Going back to the tapes, thinking it was on mute was <u>really</u> Hannah speaking at a low volume whisper similar to a library, movie theater or church. Clay listens more closer. Sometimes you <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">quiet</u> when you're all alone. Example; Hannah. Hannah brings up Tyler Down.<br />
<br />
Tyler is a Peeping Tom. Hannah's trying to understand the excitement of staring through someone's bedroom window. What was Tyler peeping for? Hannah was speaking on the tapes directly from outside Tyler's window. Listing A-4 on a provided map. Tyler had won a statewide contest w/ the lens. The nights Tyler stood outside of Hannah's window, catching her in her natural, unexposed. . . . Clay can <u>hear</u> Tyler's engine idling. Behind her voice, tires roll across the pavement. Tyler didn't stop the engine so, Hannah kept talking. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Hearing</u> Tyler's actions. <u>Every</u> story Hannah's telling leaves <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> unanswered questions. Hannah's rules were that she isn't allowed to date when the parents are away. The rumors <u><b>weren't</b></u> true. Hannah never claimed to be a Goody Two-Shoes. She did go out when parents weren't home, only because she could stay out as long as she wanted. On the night this all began, the boy Hannah went out with walked her all the way to the front door. Waited for her to get inside the door and left.<br />
<br />
Hannah knew of a Peeping Tom when someone was standing outside the window she kept open. But she denied it. She still wasn't dumb enough to change in front of the window. She kept precautions of what she'd do in front of the window of a Peeping Tom. She didn't know what to hope for. Hannah figured ignoring him was her best option. Clay thought Hannah should've called the cops. It <u>might've</u> stopped the snowball from picking up speed. Tyler <u>ruined</u> what protection Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> at home by Peeping in. She began wondering the aftermath of when/how. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">point</u> was <b><u>HAD</u> <u>SHE</u> <u>KNOWN</u>!</b> Had she <u style="font-weight: bold;">known</u> it was Tyler at the time, Hannah would've gone outside and embarrassed the shit out of him. Hannah thought revenge would've given satisfaction, but it satisfied nothing. She wasn't there to <u>watch</u> him. Spending the evening staring. The more Clay is <u>listening</u> to what Hannah is saying; he begins to <u style="font-weight: bold;">sweat</u>. But, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">can't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u> listening.<br />
<br />
Within the silence, Clay <b><u>realizes</u></b> how <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u>ly he's been staring at <u>nothing</u>. He's too intimidated to look at the people around him. Figuring he's being watched. Wondering if people wonder why he's listening to outdated audiotapes. Hannah thought maybe Tyler didn't <u>value</u> privacy as much as she did. A table from Clay's opposite side was once seen as Hannah's other safe place. Who was the mysterious girl featured in Tyler's story? He would find out soon enough. At the party, it's dark and Courtney Crimsen doesn't look happy to be there. Nor does she look mad. Why does she look <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">nervous</u>?<br />
<br />
Courtney Crimsen is one who <u>seeks</u> attention from the opposite sex. Pictures of her were <u>seen</u> by others; but later <u style="font-weight: bold;">posing</u> as though they were <u style="font-weight: bold;">meant</u> to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u>. Hannah brought up Courtney on the tapes due to feeling that while Courtney's actions <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">weren't</b> with intent. It was for Courtney to know that her actions <u>affected</u> her/Hannah. With something/someone seeming <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">perfect</u>; the only problem is <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEING</u> perfect. That is why Hannah gives Courtney credit. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Everyone</u> will <u>like</u> you and <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">a</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">soul</u> would <u style="font-weight: bold;">hate</u> you. It had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> to do with Hate for Hannah. She, <u>at</u> <u>one</u> <u>point</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u> that they were becoming friends. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">once</u> seen them hanging out. Hannah seen that she was used by Courtney for a title in the senior yearbook. After Hannah caught onto it and <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> it, she watched Courtney doing it to others. Courtney's contribution to the anthology of Hannah's life.<br />
<br />
Clay searches the map for the red star at Tyler's house. Clay feels weird about his tracking's. Feeling <b><u>obsessed</u></b>. Part of him wants to deny. Looking at it another way, Clay doesn't see an obsession; he sees a means of fulfilling Hannah's last request. Hannah felt used by others and then thrown away. Friendly to get what you want and then <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> ditch after you've gotten it. Until the night of the party when Tyler needed her again.<br />
<br />
Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u> walk away from the headphones and the tapes; come back to it later. Taking a coffee break at <u><i>Monet'</i>s</u> for 15 minutes. Getting back on his bike and headphones. The bus is at the far corner and Clay finds an empty seat; looking out the window. On the tapes, Hannah brings Courtney into the mix; beginning at the party. Whenever crossing paths in the hallways, Courtney would go over to someone else; losing more of Hannah's respect in the process. She began to wonder how many people in the hallways felt the same? Courtney was one <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> could trust and flirted with everyone. In a way, Hannah felt less than with <u>certain</u> girls around. Clay was wondering why that if Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> this, then <b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">why</b> she still went? Hannah's theory at feeling why she was wanted to be seen at the party was due to being pissed at being ignored by Courtney. At the very least, Hannah was <u>hurt</u>; which wasn't good for their reputation. Having to be fixed.<br />
<br />
Hannah depicts a location for which Clay finds on the map. D-4; Courtney's house. Clay thinks that the directions and map were enough. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> he had to see why. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">understand</u>. Whatever it takes, Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">understand</u> <u>what</u> <u>happened</u> to Hannah Baker. D-4 was only a few blocks from Tyler's house. Hannah <u>wanted</u> to be wrong about Courtney. From arriving to a party together v. getting a ride there. How the party ended; that was a <u>weird</u> surprise. Clay took the bus that neared Courtney's house and further onto Tyler's. Due to parties begging for a police visit, that was why Clay didn't go to many of them. They were so close being valedictorian. One mistake could <u>ruin</u> <u>it</u> <u>all</u>. The party was already in full swing. Football players were collecting money.<br />
<br />
Clay doesn't remember any stories of Courtney and football players, Basketball players, yes. Many of them. But, No Football. Courtney wanted to split up from Hannah. Leaving Hannah to herself. After saying the magic words "<i>Goodbye</i>", that was <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> what Courtney meant. An <span style="color: #3d85c6;">icy</span> chill shoots up Clay's spine. Hannah seen that as Courtney leaving her - <u>Goodbye</u>.<br />
<br />
Clay hears his name called from Skye Miller, his 8TH grade crush. From 8TH grade to where they are now, Skye insists on remaining an outcast. She stopped trying to be a part of anything. Clay is almost at his destination on the bus and gets off where he arrives. He heads his way to Tyler's house. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> where it's at; but <u>doesn't</u> have the address. Hannah doesn't provide it on the the tapes. Trying to find the house based on what Hannah said. The journey gives Clay a smile; his first one in months. After finding it, the smile is gone. As Clay gets closer, he can almost picture Hannah beside his window whispering into a recorder. Finding it off-putting that someone is watching. Clay stumbles upon Marcus Cooley from school. At this point, Clay is exhausted. Marcus <u>doesn't</u> answer if he is on the tapes. He didn't need to! Marcus isn't ashamed to be on them. Clay was the 3RD to visit the location from the tapes. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> on the list. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> of them. They were guilty of <u>something</u>. Marcus <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> up to <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. It was how Hannah depicted things to be done on the tapes.<br />
<br />
Of course, with no answer to what <u>Clay</u> wanted, he <u style="font-style: italic;">thought</u> Marcus was being a dick. They were <u>both</u> on the tapes. After Clay had turned away leaving, he pulled the headphones from his neck and <u>continued</u> to hear <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> of <u>what</u> <u>is</u> <u>on</u> <u>the</u> <u>tapes</u>! On the tapes, Hannah felt used by Courtney. In Hannah's eyes, that party turned into a night of firsts for Hannah. She felt Courtney was polishing her image. From seeing her first fistfight, it <u>disgusted</u> her. Hannah ran to a bathroom feeling <u>mentally</u> sick at the display. Clay began on the next thing from Hannah's list after staring at her dark, empty house. Hannah felt like she was having a migraine <u>emotionally</u>. In a way, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to emotionally vomit her way through. Courtney's reputation was <u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> than Hannah's. Hannah didn't know if she was seen as a friend or as a charity case. After finding the fistfight over and things returned to normal, Hannah needed to leave.<br />
<br />
The outside temperatures continue to fall. Clay tightens his arms as he walks. After approaching the gate to leave, Tyler Down was there fully equipped with his camera. He tried to shield the camera from her view. Trying to hide the obvious. Tyler, himself, is on the yearbook staff. <u style="font-weight: bold;">All</u> an aftereffect of <u style="font-weight: bold;">someone</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">else's</u> callousness. Beside the pool, Courtney was talking to 3 boys from another school.<br />
<br />
Hannah began to socialize & soften. Letting her guard down. She could've been right about Courtney saving an image. Hannah was being passed off and ignored at the party. But <u>what</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> <u>happened</u> Hannah? After speaking to him for awhile, this guy had a confession to make. At first, it seemed like a put-up job by Courtney; but after him overhearing about her, <u>that's</u> <u>why</u> this guy came & found Hannah. This guy stated that he heard Hannah was fun to hang out with. Fun how? She/Hannah began to rebuild her wall back up. Courtney had told this guy that Hannah had a few surprises buried in her dresser drawers; initially setting Hannah up. <u>Hear</u>ing this; Clay's breath stops like he's been sucker punched in the stomach. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Courtney had <u style="font-weight: bold;">made</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u> shit <u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u>. Out of the corner of Hannah's eye, tears began to well up. Tyler Down began to walk away smiling. When asked why did they believe what's been said about Hannah Baker? At first, she was told to calm down. What was said <b><u>ABOUT</u> </b><u>Hannah</u> <u>Baker</u> <b><u>MATTERED</u>!</b> She thought to leave him with a little conversation over by the keg pool; but Hannah had a different idea in motion.<br />
<br />
Hannah ran up to Tyler and stood in front of him and <i>sarcastically </i>asked if he wanted a picture? She told him to follow her; grabbing his arm and leading him across the yard. It hit clay that she was talking about the picture from the scribble book. Hannah wanted him to take a picture of her & Courtney. He began to see something in it; Hannah with the back-rub girl. Asking if Hannah was alright . . . her <u style="font-weight: bold;">exact</u> quote was "<i>Yeah</i>,<i> no</i>,<i> sure</i>, <i>fine.</i>" <u>In</u> <u>the</u> <u>picture</u>, Hannah's arm is wrapped around Courtney's waist. Hannah maybe laughing; but Courtney <u>wasn't</u>. And now Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> why. Courtney had only <u style="font-weight: bold;">used</u> Hannah to up <u style="font-weight: bold;">HER</u>/<i>Courtney's</i> social game. She needed Hannah for an entryway into this social scene. It was then that Hannah discovered and <b><u>realized</u></b> she was sick of this town and everyone in it. Clay can <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> where she was coming from because he was seeing the same in Hannah's eyes in his.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyoQq4sEqF0vIwiWgZJy504FX2EuDVwBqSPjka6C9OoeqiFj7ShGT8pX3lz0crizSX002E-IiL44v1y1uaer_oClsFWolf8RMCZbyltBMrAphguj9nb4vClYnk2QTtaD4I1maxSqs5D0d2/s1600/catcher-in-the-rye-cover-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="946" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyoQq4sEqF0vIwiWgZJy504FX2EuDVwBqSPjka6C9OoeqiFj7ShGT8pX3lz0crizSX002E-IiL44v1y1uaer_oClsFWolf8RMCZbyltBMrAphguj9nb4vClYnk2QTtaD4I1maxSqs5D0d2/s200/catcher-in-the-rye-cover-.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
Hannah felt rated in part due to the dollar valentines. Dollars going to Cheer Camp. With the survey's you filled out, you were going to be matched with another. Hannah filled out one due to her love of a survey. She loved to fill them out, including those in a magazine. Freshman year doled out a survey that helped out what you picked as an elective depicting your future occupation. Hannah's said a lumberjack or an astronaut. Clay's results were a lumberjack as well. The valentine survey was in 2-parts with 20 questions. As Hannah filled hers out, she found herself describing <u>someone</u> at school. For fun, Clay filled his out under Holden Caufield from <u style="font-style: italic;">The Catcher In The Rye</u>; part of their reading list and the first name that came to his mind. Clay presumed everyone seemed the survey's as a joke. Just a fundraiser for cheep camp. After they were delivered to the office, the school secretary, Ms. Benson, asked Hannah about her & Courtney Crimsen? The reason being was of photos with them both together that might appear in the yearbook.<br />
<br />
The photo in question was that taken from a party with Hannah's arm around Courtney <u>seem</u>ing to be having a good time. Hannah corrected them. They were just acquaintances. Sometimes what is seen in a picture are moments that stay <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u>. Everything about or in the photo was <u style="font-weight: bold;">false</u>. Right there in the office, with the realization that <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> of Hannah's life. Her thoughts about the world were shaken. Courtney thought she could jerk Hannah around. Other than the valentine, what <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> reason did others have to pick Hannah? Other than a rumor? W<i>homever picked Hannah was probably <b><u>told</u></b> to or guilted into it</i>. Clay thought if he had been <u style="font-weight: bold;">smart</u>, he would've described Hannah Baker in his questions. Have a <u style="font-weight: bold;">SERIOUS</u> discussion outside of school or at their place of employment.<br />
<br />
Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> of the criticism behind the list. She wasn't setting herself up. But, if she called it <u>correct</u>ly, it was an excuse for rumors to abound. For the first time, Hannah seen the possibilities in giving up. She even found hope in it. Ever since Kat's going away party, Clay couldn't stop thinking about Hannah. He was too afraid to find out for sure. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">afraid</u> she would laugh if he asked her out. In the end, Hannah left the office with the survey unsure of what she was. When Clay went into the movie theater the previous summer for a job application, he pretended to be surprised that Hannah worked there. But, she was the <b><u>ENTIRE</u></b> reason why Clay applied. On his first day at work, they placed him in the concession stands with Hannah. She showed him how to pump "<span style="background-color: white; color: yellow;">butter</span>" topping into the popcorn. Hannah stated her way to get customers back in throughout the movie. But, Clay never did that due to it being <u>Hannah</u> he was interested in. The thought of her doing that for other guys made Clay jealous.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0o-XAF-qKqMA4Q_15VEwgxEr0P5C30lBZ_NYKZTakaXitDGiuk0Mtlkg3G7AU2zTCkYUlhNirOrYxo4fHHwKynI4_O2AFw3ihVfRkOqMAl-6FpA1x-_ocQeS_Jdhlm_5qTRuQAOwFdQH/s1600/rosies+diner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="486" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0o-XAF-qKqMA4Q_15VEwgxEr0P5C30lBZ_NYKZTakaXitDGiuk0Mtlkg3G7AU2zTCkYUlhNirOrYxo4fHHwKynI4_O2AFw3ihVfRkOqMAl-6FpA1x-_ocQeS_Jdhlm_5qTRuQAOwFdQH/s200/rosies+diner.jpg" width="200" /></a>After finding out her career answers from a survey, Hannah hadn't decided to find out about the survey match. When no one was in line at the office, she thought <i>what the hell</i>? Hannah's answer from the compatible match was printed on the list. Hannah agreed that it wasn't a bad list, but it wasn't wonderful, either. It wasn't the most scientific of surveys. Agreeing that <u>2</u> names on the list matched her fairly well. This is where the person in question is revealing <u>who</u> Tape#3 is <u>about</u>. The guy who paid the $1.00 for it. After asking and seeing him in the office, it was Marcus Cooley. Marcus was whom Hannah was referring. Marcus was one of the biggest goof-offs at school. Hannah didn't take his Valentine at face value due to his humor-ism. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">honest</u>ly seen him as though he was joking. So, she thought to make him squirm a bit. Play it up. Now it was Marcus' turn to blush. The invitation was to be at <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's Diner</u> and Clay knew <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> where it was located on the map. Hannah promised to convey the details the next day. The cheerleader wanting details was Jenny Kurtz. Clay, like everyone else, had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">clue</u> of Jenny's connection to Hannah. With every side of the tape, an old memory for Clay gets turned upside down. A reputation twists into someone he <u>doesn't</u> recognize. Clay felt like when he seen a reaction like hers, with Mr. Porter, it threw him back to the moment he found out about Hannah himself. When Clay actually did cry. When instead he actually got angry. If you wanted the <u>FULL</u> Hannah experience, go to <span style="font-style: italic;">Rosi</span><u><span style="font-style: italic; text-decoration-line: underline;">e</span>'<i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">s</i></u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">yourself</u>.<br />
<br />
Hannah had never been to <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u>. A cool, quirky place to hang out. No one went there alone. Whenever Hannah was invited, she always had a prior family obligation. <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u> always had a mystery about it, and a history among its young locals. Hannah was a little way of Marcus. A little suspicious. She wanted to be able to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEEN</u> based on <u style="font-weight: bold;">HER</u>; <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> what's <u style="font-weight: bold;">heard</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PAST</u> the rumors. Alex began hanging out w/ Marcus. Since Alex started the "<u><i>WHO'S HOT</i>/<i>WHO'S NOT</i></u>" list and Marcus hung out with him.<br />
<br />
Clay gets a call from his mom. While forgetting to call, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">can't</u> go home. He had to stay and help Tony with his school project. But, he was <u>almost</u> done with this tape and has one more with him. He asks his mom for a favor. He left some tapes on the workbench for his "<i>project</i>". Clay begins to wonder if his mom <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> of what's been going on! Mentally questioning any aspects. He wanted and <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to do this <u>privately</u>. Clay's mom is getting out anyway to shop for his lunch. Leaning into the bench at Tony's, what falls out in his lie is that Clay is at <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u>. He tried his <u>best</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">get</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">off</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">phone</u> with his mom to <u style="font-weight: bold;">focus</u> on the <u style="font-weight: bold;">mission</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hand</u>. Listening to the tapes from Hannah as she makes a <u style="font-weight: bold;">valid</u> point to <u>prove</u> hers. As Clay sits at <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's Diner</u>, he begins to <u style="font-weight: bold;">get</u> Hannah's viewpoint. When you go somewhere to wait for another or a certain party, after a bit and they arrive; that's one thing. As Hannah waited for her Valentine's date, after 15 minutes, you order a shake. Somebody isn't coming. If 30 minutes isn't coming, you dig in then get the hell out of there; which is what Hannah did. Marcus was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">complete</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ass</u>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllpflpqQa11RTEA3ApORwwDOTcpL2RKhAzztdxURjo5YCJcOIgC1bozRELb7l8ejp4IBz1_jcv1BCRpXYqmiCCo_ie2yNkfJJ4mI584pZEgymY1Rkw9ZRIXpoMMZXNVAaGZyrl2H2wVfp/s1600/Crestmont.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="642" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllpflpqQa11RTEA3ApORwwDOTcpL2RKhAzztdxURjo5YCJcOIgC1bozRELb7l8ejp4IBz1_jcv1BCRpXYqmiCCo_ie2yNkfJJ4mI584pZEgymY1Rkw9ZRIXpoMMZXNVAaGZyrl2H2wVfp/s200/Crestmont.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Marcus stood Hannah up. Hannah began to <u style="font-weight: bold;">mentally</u> question all aspects. Not a good frame of mind for when he finally <u>did</u> <u>show</u> <u>up</u>. Clay may not be physically tired, but he's exhausted. But, Marcus didn't stand her up. He arrived 30+ later and apologized for his tardiness. Hannah wasn't going to hold that against him. He <u>honestly</u> thought the date was a joke. Halfway home, he stopped, thought about it, and headed to <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">just</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">case</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WHY</u> Marcus was one of Hannah's tapes. <u>Just</u> <u>in</u> <u>case</u>, Hannah Baker - Miss Reputation - was waiting for Marcus. Sadly, she waited. When Marcus did arrive, he wasn't alone. He came into <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u> with a plan. Upon hearing this on the tape, Clay isn't able to make himself go into <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u>. From out of nowhere, Marcus had his <u><b>un</b></u>invited hand on her knee. The same way Hannah was grabbed in the liquor store. What Clay is hearing is becoming too much., but he wants to get to <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u> before his mom does. But first, Clay went to the <u style="font-style: italic;">Crestmont</u>; a place where Hannah felt <u>safe</u> as well as the movie theater that employed Clay & Hannah. Clay heard Hannah having <u style="font-weight: bold;">unwanted</u> or <u style="font-weight: bold;">unintended</u> advances upon her. When hearing this, as being one who has <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> hit/punched anyone/thing <u><b>before</b></u>, Clay shoved his hands into his pockets, balled into fists, <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanting</u> to punch a wall. What he <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALLY</u> wanted to do was hit Marcus with a rock. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> asked Hannah if there was a problem. Clay is trying to figure out what is going on? Justin on the first tape. Then an interruption of Clay & Hannah at Kat's going away party. He doesn't want to find out how everyone fits together anymore. Putting all of your heart into a first kiss . . . only to have it thrown back in your face. Someone takes any sense of privacy or security you might still posses. Then have someone use that insecurity to satisfy their own twisted insecurity. Once you feel you have a grip, you slip further down. Stop being so pessimistic and learn to trust those around you. So, Hannah tries <u>one</u> <u>more</u> <u>time</u>.<br />
<br />
The last movie of the night is playing, so the box office is empty. It was Clay's chance, at <u>this</u> theater. to reach Hannah. His <u>chance</u> and Clay <u>thinks</u> he let it slip away. Hannah wonders if she'll ever have <u>control</u> or would she always always be shoved back and be pushed around by those she trusts? Will her life ever go where she wants to go? The next day, Hannah decided to do something in regards to Marcus. She decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> come back? Clay is <u>listening</u> to someone give up. Someone he liked. As he worked the box office one night, Bryce Walker arrived. Bryce arrived with a girlfriend-of-the-moment. You could <u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> that Bryce was one who had/used young ladies as an arm accessory. When the movie was over, he leaned against the concession counter, talking Hannah's ear off as everyone else left, due to the girlfriend tearing out of the theater holding her wrist. As Hannah was talking to Bryce, the entire time, Clay was <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanting</u> to flip the <u>CLOSED</u> sign. But, it was Hannah's job. After selling his last ticket and flipping the sign over, Clay exited through the box office and locked it behind him. Hannah began cleaning . . . reassuring Clay that she <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> who Bryce is. He didn't want to see a look of disappointment or frustration on her face directed at him. Hannah stated something that <u style="font-weight: bold;">STUCK</u> w/ Clay even though he <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u>, "<i>You don't need to watch out for me, Clay.</i>" He did and she pushed him away. "<i>Why didn't you try harder</i>?"<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fGl4tDal3LtMVOB2X4Hox-w2M2yNXKHKpdvmmv3B0x5WHm13Y9A8UENDPP-Cp3435-fgjlsU04Oqigt4401nCeqpfFGZ2kwtXUov_XuXrNe0WY4LksjJ9BWPlNibNgOWZIuBSQvmHO6a/s1600/shoebox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="710" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fGl4tDal3LtMVOB2X4Hox-w2M2yNXKHKpdvmmv3B0x5WHm13Y9A8UENDPP-Cp3435-fgjlsU04Oqigt4401nCeqpfFGZ2kwtXUov_XuXrNe0WY4LksjJ9BWPlNibNgOWZIuBSQvmHO6a/s320/shoebox.jpg" width="320" /></a>After taking in the aroma of <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's Diner</u>, Clay sits at an empty counter as Hannah suggested. 15 minute wait. 15 minutes and then order. Something was wrong w/ Clay and his mom could <u>hear</u> it in his voice. His mom sits on the stool next to him and pulls out a menu. Beside her, on the counter, is Hannah's shoebox of tapes. If his mom stayed, Clay was willing to talk. She had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> of the shoebox. Still under the presumption that Clay was working on a school project. A <u>small</u> mother/son moment before laying $10.00 on the shoebox for her son's shake. Before leaving, she advises him <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">not</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">to</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">be</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">out</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">so</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">long</u>. But it's a hurt smile. 4 tapes remain. 7 stories. And still, <u>where</u> does it get to Clay? Clay's mother wants him to <u>be</u> <u>careful</u> with whatever endeavors he's involved. For which after she leaves, Clay goes back into the shoebox to the <u>un</u>touched tapes. Clay rolls the 3 tapes he's <u>already</u> heard into the bubble-wrap and place them back into the shoebox. <u>Finished</u>. <u>Done</u>. Clay unzips the largest pocket of his backpack and shoves Hannah's shoebox inside it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8jQdX3CHWKXFmo9NftpgC1FjNdh8Uqec0aFSMyZub8xHFyJpHs1PoTqYX5tSeIVsMcty4o5Pc7DaxN-CzD__OiJpdQpvKs__zdndjfZRIfIZGe240vHCD7hY7EoEpXibSNE6Blm26ZI1B/s1600/metal+book+rack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="325" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8jQdX3CHWKXFmo9NftpgC1FjNdh8Uqec0aFSMyZub8xHFyJpHs1PoTqYX5tSeIVsMcty4o5Pc7DaxN-CzD__OiJpdQpvKs__zdndjfZRIfIZGe240vHCD7hY7EoEpXibSNE6Blm26ZI1B/s200/metal+book+rack.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
Clay gathers the next 2 tapes, blue nail polish labeling them 9, 10, 11 & 12 and hides them inside his jacket pocket. The last tape; the 7TH tape, has a 13 on one side; but <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u> on the other. He slips that tape into the back of his jeans. Hannah was talking about the class she had taken: <u style="font-style: italic;">Peer Communications</u>; which was a class of <u style="font-weight: bold;">NONSENSICAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">PROPORTIONS</u> to which they <u style="font-weight: bold;">should've</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to learn. At the back of the classroom stood a wire book rack. The kind that you spin. At the beginning of the year, each student was given a paper lunch bag to decorate as they chose. Then they were hung to the book rack with a couple pieces of tape. The teacher, Mrs. Bradley, know people had a <u>difficult</u> time saying <u style="font-weight: bold;">nice</u> things to <u>one</u> <u>another</u>. so this plan was devised to be anonymously said. If you can't say it to their face, then leave a note. Clay had noticed Hannah had gotten a haircut. In the photo at <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u>, her hair was long. That was how he always pictured it. Even now. But, that's how it was at the end. For Hannah's wonder, what was Zach Dempsey's excuse for what was left <u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">her</u>?<br />
<br />
Next thing Clay knows is that Tony is standing beside him. His finger on the pause button wondering if the <u><i>Walkman</i></u> was his? <u>Obviously</u>. Clay doesn't say anything, because he could read Tony's expression. It was the same look he gave when Clay helped him with his car. Worry & Concern. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Tony was in his right to ask about the <u style="font-style: italic;">Walkman</u>. Clay refers to <u>thinking</u> he asked if he could borrow it. The feeling that Tony was projecting onto Clay was misdirected for his dad. Tony could <u style="font-weight: bold;">SEE</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> why the <u>reason</u>s behind Clay's actions. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u>! Clay just had to return the <u style="font-style: italic;">Walkman</u> when he was finished. No need to rush. As far as Clay knew, Zach was a good guy. Too shy for people to even want to gossip about. Like Clay, Zach had feelings for Hannah Baker. Clay closes his eyes to picture what Hannah is saying/describing. He opens his eyes to the row of empty stools on his side of the counter. After Marcus had left her, Zach began to sit across from Hannah. She pretended not to notice him due to her <u>heart</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">trust</u> were in the process of collapsing. That collapse created a vacuum in her chest. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Every</u> nerve in her body was <u>disappearing</u>. Hannah sat & thought. The more she thought, connecting the events in her life, the more her heart collapsed.<br />
<br />
Clay's eyes began to burn. He reached forward and slid a hand down his frosted milkshake glass. The <span style="color: #6fa8dc;">icy coldness</span> clung to his skin and he used it to cool them down. Hannah sat and <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u>, connecting the events in her life, the more her heart collapsed. Zach was sweet. He went on letting Hannah ignore him until it became comical. Hannah lifted her head onto the tape and touched the base of her glasses. That was the only sign he was going to get that she was listening. He asked Hannah if she was alright, and she forced herself to nod. She began to mentally wonder <u>over</u>-<u>and</u>-<u>over</u> if that was what it felt like to go insane? Part of her felt she was being hit on. Soon, getting nothing from Hannah in response. Zach left a few bucks on the table and returned to his friends. Clay kept stirring his melted, although there wasn't any left, he didn't want the glass.<br />
<br />
Hannah's eyes began tearing up, but she couldn't break herself from her stare. If she uttered a word, she would've broken focus. Meanwhile, Clay kept stirring while listening. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Directly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">the</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">same</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">spot</u> where Clay is sitting, the <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> thoughts <u style="font-weight: bold;">imaginable</u> came to Hannah's mind. It was <u>directly</u> in that <u>same</u> spot where Hannah considered what she cannot say aloud. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> Zach tried coming to her rescue; but that <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> why he was on the tapes! However long it took for Zach to get the tapes; that's how long his discretion was kept. Clay wonders <u style="font-weight: bold;">HOW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MANY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SECRETS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CAN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">BE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HELD</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">1</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SCHOOL</u><u style="font-weight: bold;">?</u> Hannah <u>wondered</u> if Zach was <u>dared</u> to ask her out? He told his friends to watch while he put the moves on her. . . .with Hannah hardly responding.<br />
<br />
Clay had seen it <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTUALLY</u> happen; someone be dared to ask out another. Someone dared him to ask Hannah out. They all worked together at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Crestmont</u>. He knew Clay liked Hannah and that Clay didn't have the nerve to ask her out. He also knew that for the past few months, Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">hardly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">spoke</u> to anyone, making it a double challenge. Due to Hannah's staring gaze, Zach took it into initiative to repay Hannah by stealing her paper bag of encouragements. It wasn't the bag itself; it's contents of what it held gave Hannah <u>HOPE</u>! <b><u>ANY</u> </b>& <u style="font-weight: bold;">EVERYONE</u> were given notes of encouragement for the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">MUNDANE</u> things. There were people in class Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">considered</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">thought</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">of</u> as friends who <u style="font-weight: bold;">would've</u> given notes after she chopped of her hair. When Hannah first walked by Clay w/ her short hair, he couldn't keep his mouth from falling open. And she looked away. Out of habit, Hannah kept up characteristics as if her hair were still longer. It occurred to Hannah that the <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">day</u> she cut her hair, <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u> was the day she met Marcus Cooley at <u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's</u>. The <u style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">warning</u> signs were <u><b>there</b></u>. She needed a change; so she changed her appearance. The only thing she still had control over. Looking back, Clay is beginning to see the signs he missed from Hannah. Even a week <u>after</u> her haircut, then 2-3 weeks later, she still received <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u> encouraging from anyone. It was time to find out what was going on . . . .So, Hannah wrote <u>herself</u> a note. The very next day, the note was gone w/ <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WORD</u> from <b><u>ANYONE</u>!</b> It may have seemed like nothing to Zach; but Hannah's world was collapsing. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> those notes. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OF</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HOPE</u> was stripped from her.<br />
<br />
The <u>longer</u> Clay listens to the tapes, the <u>more</u> he feels he <u style="font-weight: bold;">knows</u> her. Not the Hannah from the records few <u>years</u>, but the one from the past few <u>months</u>. The Hannah Clay is beginning to <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOW</u> is the one one at the <u style="font-weight: bold;">end</u>. The people who passed Hannah in the halls, or sat beside her in class, what <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">would</u> they have done? The day her self-written note went missing, Hannah stood outside the classroom door and began talking with someone she'd never spoken with before. The very next day, Hannah had gone into Mrs. Bradley's room during lunch. She had taken her paper bag off and reattached it with the tiniest sliver of tape. Inside, she placed a little note folded in half. This time, Hannah waited and watched. The perfect setup. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">visually</u> caught Zach <span style="color: red;">red-</span><span style="color: #ea9999;">handed</span> stealing <u>HER</u> encouragements. They turned for just a moment to see if Hannah was watching. For just a moment, Hannah was scared. As she stood <u style="font-weight: bold;">alone</u> watching them getting away with what they've done, Hannah seen that she wasn't worth an explanation or a reaction. Not to Zach, she wasn't. At this point, Hannah admitted she was at a point in her life where she could've used <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> kind of encouragement one might leave. Encouragements that Zach had stolen and stripped from her. When confronting Zach in the hallway, Hannah tearfully asked him <u style="font-style: italic;">Why</u>? Clay heard about this incident. He <u>thought</u> Hannah flipped out for no apparent reason, embarrassed herself in the process. They were wrong. There was a <u style="font-weight: bold;">reason</u>.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cyamdkQQ48LzVnlruEjO85SHeyd9BWKhPG6j-dXCQ5lT2BbiT0sHkRBq6IzhHE_Doh8rA06X3QT0_o5WQelnHfIgYrnESjTs6hXX97A0S0FNSDV1n9SMsjBSyEFSh5q4lIVR4CTPKNqJ/s1600/signs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="830" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cyamdkQQ48LzVnlruEjO85SHeyd9BWKhPG6j-dXCQ5lT2BbiT0sHkRBq6IzhHE_Doh8rA06X3QT0_o5WQelnHfIgYrnESjTs6hXX97A0S0FNSDV1n9SMsjBSyEFSh5q4lIVR4CTPKNqJ/s320/signs.jpg" width="289" /></a>Hannah's parents were in the news every night, warning that if a huge shopping center went up, it put downtown stores out of business, including <u style="font-style: italic;">Baker's Pharmacy</u>. When that happened, her parents became distant. Pressure mounted to make ends meet. When Hannah cut her hair, her mom didn't even notice. But, Clay <u>did</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">notice</u> Hannah's short haircut. With the paper bags hung in Mrs. Bradley's classroom, Hannah wrote a note to Mrs. Bradley that stated SUICIDE was something she'd been thinking about. Not seriously, but in the mind that <u>might</u> escape but <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALWAYS</u> returns. Writing the note over-and-over 12x before delivering it. Write-and-rewrite. Hannah was trying <u>carefully</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> to give herself away. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEGAN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTICING</u> Hannah's change with her haircut. Averting her eyes in the halls. Careful for signs; but they were still <b><u>there</u></b>. Just like that, Hannah snapped out of it; or so Clay thought. A few days before Hannah took the pills, she was herself again. It was so drastic because it had been months since she was her <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> self. Even after Mrs. Bradley brought it up, Zach did nothing to react. The class itself couldn't've helped due to coming with annoyances & pestering. Hannah would've taken in the class discussion of suicide, but for some reason they <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u> a discussion without specifics. Based on what he was told at the party, Hannah would've <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> Clay to see it. She would've looked <u>directly</u> at him, praying for him to see it. At the end of class, Mrs. Bradley passed out a flyer called <u style="font-style: italic;">The Warning Signs Of A Suicidal Individual</u>. Top 5 included a drastic change in appearance.<br />
<br />
When it comes to thoughts we have, whether expressed or not, <u style="font-weight: bold;">that</u> is what is interesting and what Hannah loves about poetry. The more abstract. The better. You have an idea of the author's message but you're not <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sure</u>. A <u>metaphor</u>. Hannah hated poetry until she was shown how to <u>appreciate</u> it. See poetry as a puzzle that seeks to be solved. The results can be amazing . . . .and scary. But, it's <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> deeper than a therapist. Hannah tried it for awhile w/ a couple of days a week. Her first few attempts were subtle. When Hannah reads a few examples on the tape Clay is hearing, there was a sudden <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> ache in his chest. Just <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> she'd be going to <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u> to write poetry made the days more <u>bearable</u>. To Hannah, these tapes are a form of poetic therapy. Telling these stories, Hannah is discovering certain things about herself as well as things about those on these tapes. The more connections, <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> connections, are linking one story into the next. Hannah was wondering if those listening to the tapes are making the connections she hasn't. Meanwhile, Clay is <u style="font-weight: bold;">listening</u> and is barely keeping up. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">reassures</u> that when the tapes finish, they will be one tight, well-connected, emotional ball of words. Looking back, Hannah stopped writing in her notebook when she stopped <u>wanting</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> herself more.<br />
<br />
When Hannah & Clay were alone at the <u style="font-style: italic;">Crestmont</u>, it was easy for him to <u>be</u> <u>himself</u>. When others came around, he cleaned up. He didn't know how to act anymore. In the tiny fishbowl of a box office, Clay's only connection to his co-workers in the lobby was red phone. Whenever Hannah answered, Clay got nervous even if the call was work related. He was always trying to be his best self in the workplace for Hannah. Those moments in the workplace with Hannah Baker made Clay feel <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">special</u>. Due to the workplace, no one would think of or read into it. Hannah had a bad reputation. A reputation that <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u> Clay. The truth came to light a few weeks ago at a party. An amazing moment when everything else seemed to be falling into place. Looking into her eyes, Clay couldn't help telling Hannah he was sorry for waiting so long letting her know how he felt. For a <u>brief</u> moment, he was able to <u style="font-weight: bold;">admit</u> it. To her. To himself, when he found his <u>courage</u> to tell Hannah, she was gone. With Clay's feeling, he feels <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> <u>hate</u>. To himself to be on this list. If he wasn't afraid of everyone else, he might've been able to tell Hannah someone cared. She might still be alive.<br />
<br />
Sometimes Hannah would stop by <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u> for a hot chocolate. Sometimes she'd do homework or read. Hannah <u>stopped</u> writing poetry anymore. She needed a break . . . .from herself. After stepping away from poetry, Hannah <u>missed</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> poetry. She decided to go back to it. Using it to make herself <u style="font-weight: bold;">happy</u>. 2 women pictured on a flyer at <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u> taught a free course called <u style="font-style: italic;">Poetry To Love Life</u>. How to love poetry, but through poetry, how to better love yourself. Hannah signed up at the public library. When at the poetry class, everyone seemed happy to have her there - to provide the "<i>female teen</i>" perspective. After arriving, it didn't seem like the positivity Hannah was looking for when they were wanting to hear your deepest & darkest. In the end, Hannah only made it through 3 of these poetry groups. Someone else from the group, Ryan Shaver, was in there. Ryan Shaver. The one who released Hannah's privacy. While he may not have seen it as a big deal, Ryan had released and <u style="font-weight: bold;">exposed</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">kind</u> of privacy Hannah held dear to her. Clay is <u style="font-weight: bold;">trying</u> to help keep himself <u>composed</u> hoping to <u style="font-weight: bold;">relax</u> and stay in check. Emotions taking their toll cause Clay to <u style="font-weight: bold;">need</u> water before closing time at <u style="font-style: italic;">Monet's</u>.<br />
<br />
After the 2ND week of class, they sat on those library steps, reading some of their poems to one another. Poems written at different points in their lives. Only <u>happy</u>, <u>positive</u> poems; <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>disclosing the <u>painful</u> ones inside. The 3RD week, they took the <u style="font-weight: bold;">biggest</u> chance of all and handed each other their <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> notebooks of poetry. That took <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALOT</u> of <u style="font-weight: bold;">COURAGE</u> for Hannah, as well as it must've been for Ryan. For the next 2 hours, they sat and <u style="font-weight: bold;">READ</u>. Hannah felt Ryan's were <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEPER</u> than hers. <b><u>AMAZING</u>!</b> Ryan's were beautifully written. As she sees hers, Hannah felt she should've taken the time to choose more <u>emotional</u> words. But one of her poems <u style="font-weight: bold;">grabbed</u> him, he wanted to know more. Hannah kept that inside. Ryan wanted to know why Hannah wrote a poem, the poem spoke for itself. Hannah was interested in knowing what <u>he</u> thought it meant. Ryan thought that on the surface, the poem was about <u>acceptance</u> - acceptance from her mother. Acceptance & <u>approval</u>. She wanted certain people - a particular boy - to stop overlooking her.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBC8rY-_qPfCrY-3nq4nSpe9vix0vrdLQHgAXw3Kl4LtrHbCOwe0_gEJwaFgShWrCQjafR7Z7QuihyH-B64mFDJfLPjJRRN0ztLfDNPp0egwBg8IJjfL8WPoARp_NxDyDGpYArDP9ynKUY/s1600/poem+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1571" data-original-width="733" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBC8rY-_qPfCrY-3nq4nSpe9vix0vrdLQHgAXw3Kl4LtrHbCOwe0_gEJwaFgShWrCQjafR7Z7QuihyH-B64mFDJfLPjJRRN0ztLfDNPp0egwBg8IJjfL8WPoARp_NxDyDGpYArDP9ynKUY/s400/poem+1.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hannah Baker's poem</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
With poems come an underlining meaning. Hannah wanted this particular boy to find it. But, Ryan found it. He found the hidden meaning. He found what Hannah couldn't within her own writing. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUTH</u> was that the letter was written to herself . . . .hidden in a poem. Ryan told Hannah she wrote that poem due to her <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">fear</u> of dealing with herself. She used her mom as an excuse. Ryan told Hannah what she was afraid of and didn't want to face in the mirror. Clay covers his ears. He wanted to <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u> Hannah's words. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> of them, as they're said. Hannah felt she could cry at any moment. <u style="font-weight: bold;">WHY</u> did Ryan Dorsey let other people read Hannah's personal poem, dissect it and make fun of it? It was not a lost poem. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">did</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> belong in Ryan's collection. Classrooms full of students cut up her poem, searching for its meaning. Mr. Porter stated that reading a poem by an unknown classmate <u>was</u> <u>the</u> <u>same</u> as reading a poem by a <u>dead</u> poet. Because you couldn't ask about its <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> meaning.<br />
<br />
Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u> to confirm or deny. Becoming a parody in class. Making a mockery of Hannah's pain; hoping to get under her skin. After Tyler's escapade, the school; what was a safe haven for her, <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> that way <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u>. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> safety in a school where Hannah felt <u>safe</u>. Clay seen the ridicule and felt what Hannah did. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> how she felt. She was on her own. Very nice, Ryan Dorsey.<br />
<br />
<u style="font-style: italic;">Rosie's Diner</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOCKED</u> upon Clay's departure. Wondering where to go, Clay hears Tony from his truck. Tony & Clay had known each other for <u>years</u>, working on projects and joking around after class. Throughout their friendship, they've <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">deep</u> conversation. Now, Clay is afraid of having one with him. Tony isn't looking Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> the face. He reaches out having Clay get in his car. Clay places his backpack, with Hannah's shoebox inside it, on his lap, unknown of where he's going. While driving, he won't face Clay. The moment Clay pulls the door shut, like a pistol to a trigger, Tony tells him that Clay is the 9TH person he's had to follow. He tells him that the 2ND set of tapes were in his possession. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> bluffing. Tony <u style="font-weight: bold;">DID</u> have them. What information that Clay is taking in is taking a toll on him. Clay can't look at him in fear of what Tony may alread<b>y </b>know about <u>him</u>. He can try & deny it, <u>pretend</u> he had <u>no</u> <u>clue</u> of what he's talking about. Tony wondered what tape Clay is on? He stated he was on Ryan Dorsey's tape. A poem. Clay wonders why Hannah gave Tony the tapes. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">ONLY</u> thing Tony can say is that Clay is to listen to the next tape. The next tape (<i>Tape#</i>5 <i>Side A</i>) is <u style="font-weight: bold;">now</u> at Clay Jensen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6wgobjub_QisJvhqCqjVtUBEmDxEDwqCVyhJXBKwn3r_jllIpTSqRdAhZzBWIuJKzASLBVB2myHNLV80tA-2Mplrum3AbROdsr-i6-TSQRftj4zNTh-I6cW-XANG2SsMMn4m_cCbpJ8S/s1600/Cher-If_I_Could_Turn_Back_Time_%2528Cher-s_Greatest_Hits%2529-Frontal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="316" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6wgobjub_QisJvhqCqjVtUBEmDxEDwqCVyhJXBKwn3r_jllIpTSqRdAhZzBWIuJKzASLBVB2myHNLV80tA-2Mplrum3AbROdsr-i6-TSQRftj4zNTh-I6cW-XANG2SsMMn4m_cCbpJ8S/s200/Cher-If_I_Could_Turn_Back_Time_%2528Cher-s_Greatest_Hits%2529-Frontal.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Tony ask to drive as Clay listens to the next tape. After he keeps prodding, Tony finally tells Clay that this next tape is about him. Clay Jensen. This next tape is about where his past in Hannah's demise takes place. His heart doesn't jump. His eyes don't flinch. He doesn't even breathe. With the emotions Clay is feeling. Tony <u style="font-weight: bold;">won't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">have</u> him leaving his car until Clay has heard his tape. With tears falling, Clay turns to face him. But, Tony is staring <u>straight</u> <u>ahead</u>. The 5TH tape. Clay is <u><b>#9</b></u>! As Tony begins to drive through the street, Clay begins to <u>start</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">listen</u>ing. Hannah seen Clay as a Romeo to her Juliet. But wherefore art thou, Romeo? Hannah wishes she knew the answer. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> a <u style="font-weight: bold;">point</u> for Hannah where she said to herself that <u>Clay</u> was <b><u>the</u></b> <u><b>one</b></u>. <u>Hearing</u> his name, Clay's head pounding <u style="font-weight: bold;">doubles</u>. He feels an <u style="font-weight: bold;">agonizing</u> twist in his heart. (<i>As one </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">ICON</u><i> lyrically sang</i> - <i>Pride's like a knife.</i> <i>It can <u><b>cut</b></u> <b><u>deep</u></b> <u><b>inside</b></u>. Words are like railroads. They move sometimes</i>. - Cher: <i><u>If I Could Turn Back Time</u></i>)<br />
<br />
Hannah wasn't even sure how much of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> Clay Jensen she got to know over the years. Most of what she knew was secondhand information. That was why she wanted to know him <u>better</u>. Everything she heard - was <u>good</u>. Once she <u style="font-weight: bold;">noticed</u> it, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u> <u>noticing</u>. Overhearing gossip about Clay became a similar distraction. It wasn't anything <u style="font-weight: bold;">about</u> Clay. It was just hard for Hannah to believe that someone like Clay was just <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">GOODNESS</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">GOOD</u> people. How long could Hannah go on hearing nothing but <u>good</u> things about Clay Jensen? Normally, when someone is on a pedestal, another person is wanting to tear them apart. One fatal flaw to expose your <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> self. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Not</u> with Clay. It seemed as though Hannah set him up as Mr. Perfect only to tear him down. Hannah Baker was the one waiting in the wings for Clay. Waiting for a flaw, according to Hannah, and he <u>found</u> it. In Hannah's <u style="font-weight: bold;">DEEPEST</u> heart; Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">DID</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">BELONG</u> on the list. Maybe concentrating on the <span style="color: #0b5394;">coldness</span> will help Clay hold it <b><u>together</u></b>.<br />
<br />
Clay did not belong in the same way as the others. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to be there if Hannah was going to tell her story. <b><u>COMPLETELY</u>!</b> Clay wondered why didn't Hannah just skip him if he didn't belong? He could've been happier never having heard it. Tony <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> it would drive Clay crazy <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> what happened to her. He was <u>right</u>. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> Clay to know. While there may have been <u style="font-weight: bold;">MAJOR</u> gaps in Hannah's story, some parts she just didn't know <u style="font-weight: bold;">how</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> tell. Or she couldn't bring herself to say it <u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">loud</u>. <u>Events</u> she couldn't <u>come</u> <u>to</u> <u>grips</u> <u>with</u>. What Hannah comes to terms with <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u> diminish everyone else. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">magnifies</u> them. At home. At school. When you mess with one person's life, you're not messing with just that part. You're messing with their <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> life. <u>Everything</u>. . . . affects <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u>. The next few stories are <u>centered</u> around one night. The party. <u>Centered</u> around Clay & Hannah's night. <u>Their</u> night due to all the years they've spent going to the same school, working together at the movie theater, there was only <u>one</u> night they <u style="font-weight: bold;">connected</u>. <b><u>TRULY</u> </b><u>connected</u>. A night that drags many of them into the story as well. A random night that <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> can take back.<br />
<br />
For some of them, the consequences may've been <u>minimal</u>. Maybe shame. Or embarassment. But for others, it was hard to say. Hannah wasn't even supposed to be there. Her grades were slipping fast. Parents asked for weekly updates from teachers. When none of them came back with improvements, Hannah was grounded. During one of her Clay moments, Hannah found out that he was going to be at a party. Clay Jensen at a party was unheard of. Clay studies on the weekends, There's a test in most classes every Monday. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> could figure out why Clay was never seen out socializing on the weekends. No negative answers. Just a wonder. Hannah gave a direction of where the party was located. A star on the map in Cottonwood.<br />
<br />
Since no one knew <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> where they'd fit onto this list, they'd have to wait until their names pop-up to hear Hannah's tale. The night of the party, Hannah thought it was nice out to walk. Relaxing. A beautiful night out for the first time in <u>months</u>. A night that felt life held <u>possibilities</u>. <u>Limitless</u>. For the <u>first</u> time in a <u><b>long</b></u> time, Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> <u>hope</u>. Clay did as well. Forcing himself to that party and ready for something <u>new</u> to happen. Something exciting. Knowing what happened between Hannah & Clay, would he still have gone? It <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> was the calm before the storm. Clay would've gone, for Hannah, either way. Even the best moments of the night were affected by 1 incident - in front of Hannah's former home. <i>Sometimes you can't go home again</i>. All you <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> have is <u style="font-weight: bold;">now</u>. Clay sees it from, not only <u>his</u> point of view, but from others whom experienced it, those listened or received tapes <u style="font-weight: bold;">CAN'T</u> go back either. They were <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> different. Clay receiving these tapes was Hannah's apology to him. To explain.<br />
<br />
The party could've been like any other; except to one thing . . .Clay Jensen. While everyone else seen him as a part of the party, Hannah seen Clay as <u style="font-weight: bold;">her</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">reason</u> for <u style="font-weight: bold;">being</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>. With everything going on in her life and in her head, Hannah wanted to <u style="font-weight: bold;">talk</u> with him. A chance to <u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> Clay. Clay, himself, was afraid he had no chance with her. Sometimes, in life, Clay was in fear that Hannah wasn't the girl he <u>thought</u> she was. <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> would <u style="font-weight: bold;">hurt</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u>. As Hannah stood in the kitchen, in line for her 1ST fill-up beverage, Clay walked up behind them acknowledging her. When she first walked through the front door, Hannah had caught Clay off-guard. Like a freak, Clay turned around, ran through the kitchen and straight out the back. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">soon</u>. After the promise he made to himself, Clay began to to back and <b><u>focus</u></b> on his <u>personal</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">mission</u> <b><u>at</u></b> <u><b>hand</b></u>. But then, she walked in and he freaked out. Hannah couldn't believe it. He wasn't there; just out of the blue, there he was. For Clay, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> out of the blue. He paced around the backyard trying to psyche himself to talk to her. After almost missing a chance and beating himself up, Clay walked back to the front door. After being greeted again by the drunken kids, Clay took his shot and went for it. It took him all the guts in the world to keep the conversation going. Guts and 2 Red Solo Cups of beer. Clay did walk up to her with the intention that they'd need to talk. Hannah agreed. Clay offered 1/2 of his drink to Hannah w/ <b><u>GENUINELY</u> <u>NO</u> <u>ILL</u> <u>INTENTION</u>!</b> Keeping a <u style="font-weight: bold;">GOOD</u> momentum going. So, they walked into the living room where one side of the couch was occupied. By Jessica Davis & Justin Foley.<br />
<br />
There was room so they sat at the other end and began talking just like that. Clay felt like Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> escape her past. Everything Hannah could've hoped for was happening. The questions were personal, but they <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> invasive. Hannah's voice through the headphones <u style="font-weight: bold;">come</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">through</u>. She didn't feel invasive because she <b><u>wanted</u></b> Clay to <u><b>know</b></u> her. Clay just couldn't believe that he & Hannah were <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">talking</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">loved</u> talking with her. He felt like Hannah could've told him <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. He kept shut gave her space to vent; spill her guts until there was nothing left if she wanted to; but she didn't. Hannah may have wanted to tell Clay everything. But some things were too scary. Some Hannah didn't even understand. Hannah may have thought of venting to Clay was too soon in their friendship. He seen it otherwise. Clay wondered why Hannah chose <u>NOW</u>? Her words now burn into his heart & mind. Clay never explained what kind of friendship would evolve between he & Hannah.<br />
<br />
Hannah wondered, how would Clay <u><b>know</b></u> they would've been a good relationship? Hannah had already previously seen herself with a life plan of graduating and leaving town. <u>Then</u>, she went to a party. A party to meet Clay. Hannah felt she was/had suffered long enough for waiting so long. Hating herself because it wasn't fair to Clay. Clay seen those tapes as Hannah being unfair. He was <u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u> for her. They were talking. She could've told him <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u>. He would've <u>listened</u>. Due to a girl a drunkin' mess at the party, laughing & bumping into things. Maybe the girl wanted the couch to herself and her guy, so Hannah & Clay left. They just needed to laugh and live to themselves to <u>hear</u> each other. Winding themselves in the doorway to an empty room. Clay remembered <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">perfectly</u>; but how did Hannah? When arriving at the party, for the <u>first</u> time in a <u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u> time, Hannah was <u style="font-weight: bold;">connecting</u>/<u style="font-weight: bold;">connected</u> - with another person.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPeIqTZ9XEY2TnZ04mCQfNi5e6CxTY2Udp2e_dGN86yuZvGkUqMRyzoo52iAOIXkO1QL8mh0jBRVVJomo8ekR9SwECAmlBySCOlUlMAHFcyIgHc5YNeMHv2oUq-z-JYLQR8V7SYsUep4B/s1600/house+of+cards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="900" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPeIqTZ9XEY2TnZ04mCQfNi5e6CxTY2Udp2e_dGN86yuZvGkUqMRyzoo52iAOIXkO1QL8mh0jBRVVJomo8ekR9SwECAmlBySCOlUlMAHFcyIgHc5YNeMHv2oUq-z-JYLQR8V7SYsUep4B/s320/house+of+cards.jpg" width="320" /></a>How was Hannah alone? Even though she had Clay, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to be alone. It was what made sense to her. Connecting with someone was thrown back in Hannah's face. Everything seemed good for Hannah, but like a house of cards, one false move could make it <u style="font-weight: bold;">break</u>. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldnt've</u> let that happen. When Hannah would pull the conversation to lighter topics, Clay would make her laugh. Becoming <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">exactly</b> what she needed. So, they shared a <u>beautiful</u> kiss. He wondered what it was for? An <u style="font-weight: bold;">amazing</u> moment Hannah & Clay <u>shared</u>. A memory he <u>dearly</u> holds. A moment Clay kept private to himself. That night was the <u>last</u> night Hannah thought what others cared about her. Tony keeps driving as Clay is listening with a muffled <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scream</u>. As Hannah continued, Clay began to recite that he was So Sorry. Inside, he felt happy & sad at the <u>same</u> time. Kissing Clay made Hannah regret her other firsts. She began thinking Clay was <u>ruining</u> theirs. She put an <u style="font-weight: bold;">IMMEDIATE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">STOP</u> to it. She hid the reason and Clay never figured out why that night.<br />
<br />
Hannah kept <u>hearing</u> everyone else in her head. What she <u>saw</u> was in her head. Everyone who caused her to be so intrigued by Clay's reputation - Oh, how his reputation differed from Hannah's. He seen them as the same. She thought that Nice-Guy Clay didn't deserve someone with Hannah's reputation. Clay didn't see <u>that</u> from her. He wasn't like that. What began as messing around, she put a <u>STOP</u> to and asked Clay to leave. When he began to talk to her, she screamed into a pillow. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">heard</u> Hannah. It wasn't <u>until</u> <u>then</u> that he seen she was <u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u>. With her face buried into a pillow, Clay got up and <u>left</u>. He was <u>gone</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Listening</u> to the tapes, Clay wondered why he left? But, he did what Hannah wanted. He, too, was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scared</u>; same as she. After Clay's departure, Hannah slid off the bed and down to the floor. Hugging her knees and crying in regret. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> him to go; but she <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u>. That was where Clay's story ended.<br />
<br />
Clay didn't think his story should've ended <u>there</u>. He was there for Hannah. She could've reached out to him, but she didn't. He seen it as though Hannah pushed him away. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">would've</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">helped</u> her. Hannah seen it as though after Clay left the room. they never spoke again. He seen as though her mind was previously <u>s</u><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">et</b>. In the hallway at school, he tried to catch her eye, but she always looked away. That night when Hannah got home, she tore a page from her notebook and wrote down one after another. All the names that were in her head after she kissed Clay. At least <u style="font-weight: bold;">36</u> names. Then . . . . she made the connections. Beginning w/ Justin -then to Alex - to Jessica. Bypassing names that didn't connect. She emotionally went back from anger & frustration w/ all of them to tears. Back to <u style="font-weight: bold;">anger</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">hate</u> w/ every new connection. Then Hannah reached Clay; the reason she went to the party. Circling his name and drawing a line and back. Back to Justin Foley. Soon after Clay had left & shut the door. . . . <u style="font-weight: bold;">Justin</u> reopened it. Hannah did say that Justin's name would <u>reappear</u>, He was at the party on the couch w/ Jessica. In a roundabout way, Justin caused a <u>new</u> name to be added to the list. The one who should receive the tapes after him.<br />
<br />
Clay's eyes were stinging because he hadn't closed them since learning Hannah cried when he left the room. As Clay is <u style="font-weight: bold;">taking</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u> Hannah's words from the tapes <u style="font-weight: bold;">physically</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">emotionally</u>, Tony slows the car and worries of Clay's well-being. He <u>wasn't</u> okay. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">missed</u> her. <i style="font-weight: bold;">You don't know what you got</i><b>, </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">til it</i><b>'</b><i style="font-weight: bold;">s gone</i>. Clay's voice breaks and in that break comes a flood of tears. Tony gives Clay the space he <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEEDS</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">grieve</u>. He was being there for Clay when a friend is <b><u>NEEDED</u> <u>MOST</u>!</b> While Tony's was driving, Clay feels like Tony is stalling for time. He <u>needed</u> <u>to</u> <u>know</u> that Clay was going to be <u>okay</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Impossible</u> for him to answer. Clay did what she asked and left. When he should've stayed. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to hear from someone else that Hannah's demise <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">fault</u> even though <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">BLAMED</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">HIM</u>! In order for Tony to answer Clay's questions, he drove him to the party house. Soon after Clay had left the party, the couple from the couch walked into the bedroom. <u>Stumbled</u> into. The girl was <b><u>smashed</u>!</b> Clay had passed them in the hall. One of Jessica Davis' arms were flopped over Justin's shoulders. The other arm groped to the wall to steady herself. Of course, Hannah didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u> them come in. She was still on the floor, her back against the far side of the bed and it was dark. The sofa buddy kept Jessica from stumbling too hard in the nightstand. When she rolled off the bed . . . .twice . . . he lifted her back on. Keeping the laughter to a minimum. Hannah <u>thought</u> the guy would take the girl to lie on a bed and leave. Clean getaway. End Of Story. But, No!<br />
<br />
Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> Clay's first kiss, but the first kiss that <b><u>MATTERED</u>!</b> After talking with her for so long that night, Clay presumed it was just the beginning. Something, a spark, was happening between Hannah & Clay. You could <u style="font-weight: bold;">feel</u> it between them. With no destination in mind, Clay left the party. Instead of leaving, he began to kiss her. 2 things <u>kept</u> Hannah down that floor at the party. Her alcohol intake made her balance not what it should've been. The other was that Jessica Davis seemed to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> unresponsive. From what Hannah could <u>tell</u>, it didn't seem to go beyond kissing. One-sided kissing. But, he did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> take advantage of the situation. He tried to get a reaction out of her. Jessica <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> passed out. He did the right thing. He tucked her in, said he'd check on her and <u>left</u>. While Clay was listening to the tapes, leaving the party, the atmosphere was a misty haze. The guy in question on this tape <u style="font-weight: bold;">REMEMBERS</u> this. Hannah would've loved to see what he denies what it was that she <u>witnessed</u>.<br />
<br />
Clay wonders what else could've gone wrong that night? Hannah knew that this girl wasn't this mysterious guys girlfriend. He <u>barely</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> her. Hannah began to stand up, stabilizing herself with one hand on the bed. The shadow of shoes were still visible in the light coming in under the door. When he left, they took up post right outside. As Hannah began to walk toward the opened door light, halfway there, 2 more shoes came into view and she stopped. Hannah's heart was pounding. The bedroom opened again. But again, they pulled it shut. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">remembered</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>; even though <u>they</u> <u>didn't</u>. Hannah was <u>silently</u> a witness in tears in hiding. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> heard what Hannah seen thanks to the loud music. <u>Bryce Walker</u> was in that room. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">could've</u> <u>stopped</u> what happened. She didn't. She mentally & emotionally had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> excuse. For Hannah, the world did end. But, for Jessica, the world went on. But then, Hannah hit her w/ these tapes. Hannah remembered and could <u style="font-weight: bold;">STILL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FEEL</u> being there. Waiting for the the closet doors to be opened. To be yanked out of her hiding place. After she came out of it, she wondered what could happen to her. Hannah had been <u><b>witness</b></u> to a sexual assault from Bryce Walker on Jessica Davis from the closet. The person in question to which this tape evolves around is . . . .Justin Foley. Justin <u>started</u> an entire chain of events that <u style="font-weight: bold;">ruined</u> Hannah's life and was beginning to ruin Jessica's.<br />
<br />
Right outside the house, Clay had to throw up. Hanging his head over the gutter. Hannah could tell and <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u> <u>pain</u> in Justin's face. Tony gave Clay the space he needed. Clay assured Tony he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wouldn't</u> puke in his car. Hannah wasn't blaming Justin <u style="font-weight: bold;">entirely</u>. She knew that she & Justin <u>both</u> had let Jessica down for not standing up for her. The <u>reason</u> this tape is about Justin Foley is that he <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> what they knew. Justin <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> what happened in that room. That's why. Clay, himself, begins to hyperventilate. Having to keep Tony's truck door open for air. Tony <u style="font-weight: bold;">COULDN'T</u> answer <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u> questions until Clay listened to the tape in <u>full</u>. How did Justin feel about his friend, Bryce, now? Would Justin Foley be friends w/ that <u>same</u> guy if he <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Bryce was a rapist? Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u> <u>both</u> she <u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u> Justin weren't <u><b>there</b></u> for Jessica. They were <u>both</u> at fault. From there, Clay finishes the 5TH tape and onto #6.<br />
<br />
Tony had been holding back something he now <u style="font-weight: bold;">needs</u> to tell Clay. Clay's stomach is settling by this point. Hannah had gone over to Tony's house. <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> was Tony's <u>chance</u>. Tony seen <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> the signs for Hannah were there <u>then</u>. Clay begins to tell him that he, himself, missed his chance at the party after their kiss. Inside the car it was dark & quiet. Tony felt they <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> had a little part to play. When Hannah had gone over to Tony's, he was working on his car. Hannah had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> gone there before which surprised Tony. She had gone to give Tony her bike wanting him to have it. She was all of a sudden done with it <u style="font-weight: bold;">un</u>expectedly. She didn't have one. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Right</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">there</u>, Tony seen it as a sign. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Giving</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">away</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">possessions</u>. She thought that if her car ever broke down, she could borrow Tony's. Considering Tony's car <u>always</u> breaks down, he told her that he couldn't take her bike. Not without giving her something in return. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">LOOK</u> in Hannah's face, in her eyes, was one Tony'll <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> forget. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> looked away. <u>Straight</u> <u>into</u> his eyes and began crying w/ tears. Hearing her, Clay felt he should've emotionally done something for her. The signs were all there for anyone to notice.<br />
<br />
When asked what Hannah had asked for; Hannah had asked Tony how he made his tapes? He told her of his dad's old tape recorder. She then asked if he had anything to record voices? After finding something, Tony gave it to her <u style="font-weight: bold;">UNKNOWING</u> of Hannah's <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> intentions. She had her mind <u style="font-weight: bold;">MADE</u> prior to Clay's asking. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> him to stop her. A few days later, when Clay gets home from school, there was a package w/ the tapes. But, it didn't make sense to Clay. Tony didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">listen</u> to all the tapes like Clay did. He just fast forward to what concerned him. But, that's when he found out that he was given the 2ND set of tapes. After calling Hannah's parents of her whereabouts, Tony finds out that Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> at school the next day. Tony left home from school that day <u>early</u>. It took him a few days to pull himself together. But, when he returned; Justin Foley & Alex Standall looked like hell. Tony thought most of them deserved it, so he was going to fulfill Hannah's request. <b><u>MAKE</u> <u>PEOPLE</u> <u>HEAR</u> <u>WHAT</u> <u>SHE</u> <u>HAD</u> <u>TO</u> <u>SAY</u>!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Tony figured Clay out <u>easy</u> because of Clay stealing Tony's <u style="font-style: italic;">Walkman</u>. With everyone else, Tony had to run his car after the last bell and drive as close to the school front lawn as possible. When he seen whom was next, a couple of days later after Tony knew the last person had heard the tapes; he'd call them out and inform them. The only reason they can figure out that Tony had the tapes was because he had the tape recorder. <u style="font-weight: bold;">That</u> was Tony's portion. He <u>helped</u> Hannah with a tape recorder. From then, Tony himself, had to go. His dad was going to wonder if his son had broken down somewhere. Clay began to call his mom informing her of his whereabouts. Tony, who was still with Clay, attested to Clay verifying the reasons Clay had given his mom. After talking with Clay's mom, Tony wonders if Clay wanted to be taken somewhere? No, thanks due to being at the <u>location</u> of the party. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">THANKFUL</u> to Tony for <u style="font-weight: bold;">LISTENING</u> to him. For trying to make him laugh on the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> horrible night of Clay's life. Making him not as scared to <u style="font-weight: bold;">keep</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">listening</u> to the tapes.<br />
<br />
After leaving Tony, Clay goes back to listening. Back to the party is where <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">everyone's</u> stories are <b><u>connected</u>!</b> After the situation w/ Justin & Hannah, Hannah wondered down the hall and back to the party. Clay sits on the curb a few feet from where he had vomited outside of Tony's car. Hannah had grabbed for the piano in the living room; then the piano bench and sits. She waited to leave; but not right then. Where would she go? She was too weak to walk and/or try. All she knew was that she <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to get out of there. Just then, Jenny Kurtz, gently squeezed her shoulder. This was where Jenny's story comes in on the tapes. Jenny had asked if Hannah needed a ride home? <u>Obviously</u>, she did. After getting some assistance from her, they began to exit the party. Somewhere in that moment, Clay was walking from block-to-block wondering why <u>he</u> left the party? Trying to figure out what <u>e</u><b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">xactly</b> happened between he & Hannah?<br />
<br />
Jenny <b><u>didn't</u></b> say a thing. Making Hannah feel very grateful. Maybe she'd <u style="font-weight: bold;">seen</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">things</u> at the party she didn't wait to discuss. Jenny had led Hannah to her car. Getting her in and belting her in. Then they left. In Jenny's car, Hannah felt <u style="font-weight: bold;">secure</u>. The rain outside had brought Hannah into the car. Into <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u>. Next thing, Hannah knew they were in a car accident <u style="font-weight: bold;">WAKING</u> her <u><b>UP</b></u>! They were <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">in</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shock</u>! They had only hit a sign. At first, Hannah thought that Jenny was only worried about . . . .her car; not the passenger. After checking the car and seen no injuries, she tells that she wasn't drunk. That <u>wasn't</u> what bothered Hannah. Jenny had gotten away w/ <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> than knocking down a sign. Once again. Hannah could've <u>somehow</u> stopped it. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> could've <u style="font-weight: bold;">stopped</u> it. The part that <u style="font-weight: bold;">mattered</u> to Hannah was a knocked down sign. A sign located on the map. 2 blocks away from the party. On that night of the accident, one of the drivers died.<br />
<br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> the cause of the accident. Not those indeed. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> that Jenny & Hannah did. Maybe Jenny's parents; due to her bumper being fixed <u>quickly</u>. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> the guy in the car. All she knew was that he was a senior. After seeing his picture in the newspaper, she didn't recognize him. Just one of many faces. Hannah didn't know it was a man from her former home. Hannah watched him drive away <u>without</u> noticing her. Some of those on the tapes were at his funeral. Clay knew the guy was driving to return a toothbrush for his granddaughter. Next thing you know, then the police came. The school day was <u>quiet</u> on the day of the funeral. Staff would've remanded those whom attended the funeral. Mr. Porter knew funerals were part of the grieving process. But, Hannah <u>doubted</u> that very much. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">could've</u> stopped it. On the day of the funeral, in <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> class, the staff gave them <u>free</u> time. For the <u>first</u> time, Hannah thought about her <u>own</u> funeral. Hannah could <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> picture life and everything moving on without her. But, she couldn't picture her funeral. She couldn't imagine who would be there or what they'd say. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">know</u> what others thought of Hannah. No one knew how to tackle the conversation about her.<br />
<br />
A couple of weeks after the party, Jenny had done a great job of avoiding Hannah. Forget what they did in the car w/ the <u>STOP</u> sign. But, Hannah won't forget. Clay seen that maybe no one didn't know what to think of Hannah due to her not giving them enough to go on. If not for the party, Clay would <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> have gotten to know the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> Hannah. He liked her. Maybe even could've loved her. But, <u>Hannah</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">decided</u> not to allow that to happen. At this point, Clay begins to leave from the <u>STOP</u> sign. Eventually making it to a gas station located on the map to alert police of the crash. Hannah was <u style="font-weight: bold;">IN</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">TEARS</u> trying to give information to the police. They were already on their way en route. Hannah was <u style="font-weight: bold;">in</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">shock</u> that Jenny had <u style="font-weight: bold;">already</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">done</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u>. When Hannah went to school, it was there that she received the <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">FULL</b> story. Jenny called the police to report an accident. An accident by a fallen sign, for which Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WOULD'VE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWN</u>! After hanging up the phone, Hannah began to wonder the streets some more. To stop crying before she got home. Going home, Hannah couldn't answer the unanswerable.<br />
<br />
That was <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXACTLY</u> what Clay is doing <b><u>NOW</u>!</b> Staying away. He wasn't crying the night of the party; but he can <u style="font-weight: bold;">barely</u> hold back now. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">CAN'T</u> go home. Hannah walked <u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hours</u> imagining the <u style="font-weight: bold;">thick</u> of the night swallowing her whole. The thought of disappearing <u>just</u> <u>like</u> <u>that</u> made her so happy. Clay pops the tape from the <u style="font-style: italic;">Walkman</u> and flips to Side B. 1. Side A is Jenny Kurtz. By this point, Hannah feels she's <u style="font-weight: bold;">already</u> given up. No matter what's happened so far, it <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ends</u> w/ Hannah Baker. Her voice sounds <u>content</u> w/ what she's saying. Before the party, she thought about giving up <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">times</u>. Everytime something bad happens, she thought about it. <u>SUICIDE</u>! The anger, the blame, it's all gone. Her mind is <u style="font-weight: bold;">MADE</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">UP</u>. The word is NOT a <u style="font-weight: bold;">STRUGGLE</u> for her anymore. Becoming even <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">scarier</u> when you feel you <u style="font-weight: bold;">MEAN</u> it. She began to think of her options. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Pills</u> were her second choice. The next day, Hannah began to get up. Walk to the post office and mail a bunch of tapes to Justin Foley. After that, there was <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">turning</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">back</u>. When she later went to school, she <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u> time. Which brings Hannah to her <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u> weekend. The weekend following the accident. The weekend of a new party. A party she <u>didn't</u> want to attend due to house sitting that weekend. A friend of Hannah's fathers was out of town and she was keeping an eye on things due to there being a supposed rager a few doors down. There it was. Maybe not as big as the last party, but definitely <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> one for beginners.<br />
<br />
Clay thought that even if Hannah might've been there, he still would've stayed home. With the way he was ignored at school, he presumed she would ignore him there too! Hannah had heard of others' <u style="font-weight: bold;">bad</u> experiences w/ tequila that <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> follows them. While just <u style="font-weight: bold;">hearing</u> the word of it, it twisted her in knots. One week was <u style="font-weight: bold;">nowhere</u> enough time to get over to the last party. Hearing her on the tape, Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">remembers</u> the last time he seen Hannah. Eventually, there was a time when the party died down. After being shut in for so long, she decided to catch a breath of fresh air from the party. Clay wondered what was it in Hannah's eyes? Sadness? Pain? She moved around him as she tried brushing her hair away from her face. Hannah's fingernails were painted <span style="color: #073763;">dark blue</span>. He watched her walk down the hallway. Clay didn't care. He stood there and watched her <u>disappear</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u>! Hannah continued to <u><b>confess</b></u> the events of the party. <u>Her</u> plan was to just walk by. Maybe spot someone struggling to get in their car with their keys. Clay began going down to <u style="font-style: italic;">Eisenhower Park</u>, the scene of Hannah's first kiss. Hannah, on tape, began to hear her name from the side as she walked the street. Hannah's name was being called from <u>Bryce Walker</u> whom called her over to the party.<br />
<br />
Clay could see it. This could've only ended one way. If anyone can shovel more shit onto Hannah's life, it's <u>Bryce Walker</u>. Clay had seen him <u style="font-weight: bold;">multiple</u> times w/ any of his girlfriends; grabbing their wrists and treating them like meat in public. Hannah's body, shoulders, <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> was <u><b>set</b></u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">keep</u> walking on by. And she should have. But her face turned toward him and just then Hannah seen Courtney Crimsen pop-up next to him. The coincidence was that Courtney used Hannah as a chauffeur to attend a party. Here, Hannah was crashing hers. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> joining them was the <u style="font-weight: bold;">WORST</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">POSSIBLE</u> choice. They were all just relaxing a bit. Afterward, Courtney was offering Hannah a ride home. Hannah was <u style="font-weight: bold;">willing</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">forgive</u> Courtney. But, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">still</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">needed</u> to hear her out. After hesitating for a minute, Hannah joined them in the hot tub. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Seeming</u> so inviting. Hannah had stripped down to her "bathing suit" attire to join. The calming water also came w/ <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">terror</u>. Hannah knew them each well enough <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to trust them for long. Clay narrows his eyes as he walks, <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">wanting</b> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> shut them. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't</u> want to envision anymore of what Hannah is describing. He swings a fist to the side and rattles a rusted down chain-link fence. Shutting his eyes and dragging his fingers across the metal holding <u style="font-weight: bold;">tight</u> to the fence and keeps walking forward with his skin sliced open. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">THEN</u> that Clay hears the <u style="font-weight: bold;">DETAILS</u> that <u>Bryce Walker</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">violently</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">sexually</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">assaulted</u> Hannah Baker in the hot tub pool. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOCUSED</u> elsewhere as Bryce continued his <u style="font-weight: bold;">violent</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">assault</u>. She continued that until and when Bryce was done, she got out of the hot tub and walked home. The night was over. Hannah was <u style="font-weight: bold;">done</u>.<br />
<br />
Through Clay's teary eyes, he watches <span style="color: #cc0000;">blood</span> squeeze through his fingers. No matter where Hannah wanted to go next, Clay knew where he was spending the rest of his night. Mending the injuries caused on his hands within a gas station bathroom. After reaching the sidewalk, Clay began jogging again. There was <u style="font-weight: bold;">only</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">1</u> tape left. #13.<br />
<br />
<i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Eisenhower Park</i> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">completely</u> empty. Clay figured to spend the night to <u style="font-weight: bold;">listen</u> to the <u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u> words Hannah Baker wanted to say before allowing himself to fall asleep. Sitting on the bottom half of the rocket slide, Clay steps onto the area and onto the lowest level. When he stands up, his shoulders poke through the hole. Climbing onto the first platform, Clay reaches into his jacket and presses <u>PLAY</u> on Hannah's <u style="font-weight: bold;">FINAL</u> tape: She was giving <u>life</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u> . . .<u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u>. . . <u style="font-weight: bold;">try</u>. By this point, the recorder Hannah was using is close to her mouth and with each break in her words. Clay can hear her breathe.<br />
<br />
Hannah is giving life <u style="font-weight: bold;">one</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">chance</u>. This time, she is asking for help because she couldn't do this alone. She tried that. Although Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to be there, she told him to leave. Only one person stood between them and the collection of audiotapes:Mr. Porter. Clay thought Mr. Porter couldn't have known this. He & Hannah both had Mr. Porter for 1ST Period: <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u>. Clay thought bringing an adult into this, someone from school, was <u style="font-weight: bold;">beyond</u> what he imagined.<br />
<br />
Hannah was shoving the recorder into her backpack as she <u>quietly</u> spoke into it. Recording the foreseen conversation w/ the <u style="font-style: italic;">English</u> teacher, but also the guidance counselor, Mr. Porter. <u>Trying</u> to make Hannah feel comfortable enough to open up and talk. Hannah was wanting to talk about everything. Mr. Porter gave Hannah as much time as she needed. Whenever <u>she</u> was ready. Her voice was <i>shaky</i>. She didn't know where to begin first or how to sum it up. Mr. Porter just wanted her to begin where she <u style="font-weight: bold;">felt</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">comfortable</u> at first. She <u>admitted</u> to feeling lost and empty. She <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">anymore</u> about <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANYTHING</u>; school, friends, or herself. When asked about friends or those Mr. Porter had seen her converse with in the hallway, she didn't <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u> anyone that she could turn to when . . . . That was why Hannah was turning to Mr. Porter. It was <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">enough</u> for her to set up this meeting. Hard enough to get herself there. Mr. Porter wondered once Hannah left that office, how did she want things to be different for her? All Hannah knew was that she needed <u style="font-weight: bold;">everything</u> to stop. People. Life. Mr. Porter wondered if Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EXACTLY</u> what she was saying? She <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> and wanted Mr. Porter to <u style="font-weight: bold;">notice</u> what she said and <b><u>HELP</u> <u>HER</u>! </b>Mr. Porter asked if Hannah wanted her life to stop. Her <u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u>? Being <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">serious</u> words, Hannah had <b><u>NO</u> <u>RESPONSE</u>!</b> She didn't want her life to <u style="font-weight: bold;">end</u>. That's why she went to Mr. Porter. Hannah summed her feelings as being a snowball effect. One thing on top of another becoming <u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u>.<br />
<br />
Clay's bandaged hand hurts as he strings to put weight on it; but he didn't care. Mr. Porter gave Hannah an <u>un</u>opened box of tissue. Making her be able to laugh. Mr. Porter tried to get her to begin conversation with talking about school. How did she get to this point? School was hard due to certain people she was required to be with in school. <u>Certain</u> people. Hannah felt others were out to get her due to rumors being spread about her. Mr. Porter hadn't heard any rumors. But, not all of them were rumors. Hannah began to tell him of the list ranking polls. People reacting to it ever since. Hannah began to tell Mr. Porter about the details of events at the party. One of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">WORST</u> nights of her life. Mr. Porter had suggested she move on <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">direct</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">detail</u> of the reasons. Suggesting she move on due to "<i>this person</i>"; Bryce being a senior and gone next year. Wanting Hannah to move beyond whatever happened <u style="font-weight: bold;">without</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u>. Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> able to move on from being sexually assaulted. For Hannah, she got what she went to Mr. Porter for and from that, she was <b><u>DONE</u>!</b> She <u style="font-weight: bold;">RECEIVED</u> Mr. Porter's underlining message.<br />
<br />
Hannah leaves Mr. Porter's office w/ her footsteps picking up speed. His door is closed behind her. <b><u>Staying</u> <u>closed</u>!</b> He was letting her go. Clay did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> want Mr. Porter allowing Hannah to leave that room <u>without</u> help. Clay begins to have the onset of a <u>headache</u> beginning w/ <u style="font-weight: bold;">pounding</u> behind his eyebrow. On the tape, Hannah states that she has made herself <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">clear</u>, but <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">one's</u> stepping forward to <u style="font-weight: bold;">stop</u> her. Clay wonders <u style="font-weight: bold;">who</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> was Hannah <u style="font-weight: bold;">CLEAR</u> with? Her parents? Him? She wasn't very <u style="font-weight: bold;">clear</u> w/ him. Hannah continued that while others cared, it just <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">wasn't</b> enough. <u style="font-weight: bold;">THAT</u> was what Hannah needed to find out. But, Clay didn't know what Hannah was going through. He did find out. He was sorry. From that, the recorder clicks off. Clay begins to cry. If anyone in the pack seen him, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> care. He just <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">heard</b> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u> words he'll <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> hear from Hannah Baker. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">ONLY</u> words Clay can muster to find were an <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONEST</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">SINCERE</u> I'm Sorry. Those words will <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> remind him of Hannah. Some people won't be able to say those words back. Some will carry their anger for Hannah's suicide and blame others. Clay would've helped her because he wanted her <u>alive</u>.<br />
<br />
The tapes circles itself over and continues playing. Over 7 tapes and 13 stories, Hannah's voice was kept at a slight distance by a steady hum in the background. Clay allows this sound to swallow over him, reminding him of everything he's heard over the past day. His breathing begins to slow and the tension in his muscles begin to relax. Then with a click of the headphones, a slow breath of air, Clay looks up at the moonlight with Hannah on his mind and IN his heart as he <u style="font-weight: bold;">genuinely</u> thanks Hannah for including him and allowing him to be a part of <u style="font-weight: bold;">Her</u> and this experience.<br />
<br />
The following day after Clay mailed the tapes onto the next on Hannah's request list, he is fighting <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> muscle in his body <u style="font-weight: bold;">begging</u> him to collapse and <u style="font-weight: bold;">SHUT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DOWN</u>! Take an extra day to hide out. But, no matter when, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">eventually</u> has to <u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">everyone</u> on the tapes. Clay approaches the school welcoming them back to high school. With a <u style="font-weight: bold;">full</u> parking lot he's never noticed, this was the <u>first</u> time Clay's been <b><u>late</u></b> until that day for <u>2</u> reasons. The first reason was for Clay to mail the package onto Jenny Kurtz; changing the way she'll <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> see life. The second is for Mr. Porter; Clay's first period class. The empty desk next to Clay's belonged to Hannah Baker. While everyone stared at her desk everyday, Clay seen it <u style="font-weight: bold;">profoundly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">different</u> than he ever will again. So, Clay bid his time taking it <u style="font-weight: bold;">slowly</u>. How many memories did Clay have with Hannah within these school walls? He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> how she felt about him. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">idea</u> who she <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u> was. Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">mistakenly</u> believed what others believed. He was afraid what might've been said about him if it was <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWN</u> he <u style="font-weight: bold;">liked</u> her.<br />
<br />
Clay began to think of times after the party that he said or did something wrong. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Too</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">afraid</u> to try again. After she died, his chances <u style="font-weight: bold;">forever</u> disappeared. It all began a few weeks after when a map was slipped through Clay's locker. Right outside Mr. Porter's door was <u style="font-weight: bold;">directly</u> where Clay <u style="font-weight: bold;">last</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>seen Hannah Baker <u>alive</u>. Over the next week or so, as the tapes move on, Clay will begin doing the same to the rest of them. After Mr. Porter comes down the hall asking Clay to take something to the office for him, Clay finds himself having bumped into Skye Miller. The back of his neck begins sweating. When she looks at him and he holds her gaze for a few steps, she turns to <u>keep</u> walking. The previous last night, Clay left without talking to Skye. He's wanted to talk to her, he's tried to, but he let her slide out of the conversation! Over the years, Skye's learned how to avoid people. Everyone.<br />
<br />
As Clay sees her walk down the hallway, stepping away from his locker, he <b style="text-decoration-line: underline;">wants</b> to call Skye's name; but his throat closes. After watching Hannah slip away, Clay refuses to make the same mistake twice. He can still hear Skye's footsteps. Clay starts to walk towards her. In one hurried glace towards Skye's walking direction, Clay joins her as they <u>both</u> begin to enter Mr. Porter's class. A flood of emotions run through him. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But, the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEST</u> feeling Clay could <u style="font-weight: bold;">POSSIBLY</u> feel: <b><u>HOPE</u>!</b> As he catches up, Clay's throat begins to relax s he begins and is <u style="font-weight: bold;">READY</u> to move from tragedy, sadness and loss - to <b><u>HOPE</u>!</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In 2017, a series was popularly featured on <u style="font-style: italic;">Netflix</u> featuring this <u style="font-weight: bold;">EXACT</u> book with a <u style="font-weight: bold;">TERRIFICALLY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ENSEMBLE</u> cast featuring Dylan Minnette as Clay Jensen; Newcomer Katherine Langford as Hannah Baker, Justin Prentice as Bryce Walker, Brandon Flynn as Justin Foley, Miles Heizer as Alex Standall, Sosie Bacon as Skye Miller and, Derek Luke as Mr. Kevin Porter.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42kCiNs5JC5RR-lLjPWNLpffkOuowI8DxqnRUaBvE7DlMW6IzE9hdP0u8ecOtoPdOsyuavECLHWjL0L3QnGYQux8vLv1C8uA8F8BqcKfj4vzBhqKBU9qxCnDlFQB2gSj3Gpmuros7SB-K/s1600/13-reasons-why-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42kCiNs5JC5RR-lLjPWNLpffkOuowI8DxqnRUaBvE7DlMW6IzE9hdP0u8ecOtoPdOsyuavECLHWjL0L3QnGYQux8vLv1C8uA8F8BqcKfj4vzBhqKBU9qxCnDlFQB2gSj3Gpmuros7SB-K/s640/13-reasons-why-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-79344388284557461982017-07-16T12:11:00.000-07:002017-07-23T12:19:43.693-07:00Till Death Do Us Part<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNkiP3SMbpHdjE0ssEO9ax2VsbUjjLALLZfY9apz8dioFckFWp5wZ539uOartui4EYJ2F1ahuIoHjVy9doyPPz_WtJYcvdPlqdhkegt5Eyp5zXSawySlc6x2LLsy7Bd2UEAbKYV8qW0pxy/s1600/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="326" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNkiP3SMbpHdjE0ssEO9ax2VsbUjjLALLZfY9apz8dioFckFWp5wZ539uOartui4EYJ2F1ahuIoHjVy9doyPPz_WtJYcvdPlqdhkegt5Eyp5zXSawySlc6x2LLsy7Bd2UEAbKYV8qW0pxy/s200/cover.jpg" width="130" /></a>While this book <u style="font-weight: bold;">does</u> cover many true crime stories, this next <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRUE</u> story is one that rocked the San Diego area of California in the 1980s. It tells of the harrowing portrayal of a woman who <u style="font-weight: bold;">REFUSED</u> to rise above what she could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> let go. When the marriage was over; she <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> moving on . . .She let her emotions to override what eventually led her reactions and the deaths of her ex-husband, Dan Broderick and his new spouse, Linda Kolkena Broderick. This is the story of ex-wife & murderess, Elisabeth Ann "Betty" Broderick.<br />
<br />
To take it back, let's start at the beginning to 1965 when Betty Bisceglia met Daniel T. Broderick III at the <u style="font-style: italic;">University Of Notre Dame</u>. Betty was a student at <u style="font-style: italic;">N.Y.U.</u> Dan was a pre-med student. He, upon meeting Betty, already seen himself where he <u style="font-weight: bold;">wanted</u> to be. M.D.A. (<i><u>M</u>edical <u>D</u>octor</i> - <i><u>A</u>lmost</i>). They had both dated for several years. Becoming engaged and were married in 1969. Less than a year after being married, Betty was pregnant with their first child; a daughter, Kim. 3 other children soon followed; including 2 sons and another daughter. The couple/family moved to Massachusetts while Betty tended to the children and Dan finished medical school. After medical school, he transitioned into law attending <u style="font-style: italic;">Harvard Law School</u><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpbgS1kSyr6NAsMUgOM0pytsFGgSgR92oC0AQQRxS-iCZr95JNnoRWz7Zx-yu3a1VpTvrIEwm2EY-NlhcMy7qaxrohpu-TDNSYc9U-00ARmSWZWUs1JoVwLXtHAdlnKai_LnVZh8q490dQ/s1600/dan-and-betty-broderick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="521" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpbgS1kSyr6NAsMUgOM0pytsFGgSgR92oC0AQQRxS-iCZr95JNnoRWz7Zx-yu3a1VpTvrIEwm2EY-NlhcMy7qaxrohpu-TDNSYc9U-00ARmSWZWUs1JoVwLXtHAdlnKai_LnVZh8q490dQ/s320/dan-and-betty-broderick.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Betty supported the family through these years with <u>various</u> jobs from teaching elementary school-to-babysitting-to selling housewares; plus <u>more</u> during <u>lean</u> years to make ends meet. In 1973, the young family moved to L.A. for a short time. Then to San Diego where Dan had taken a job as a junior partner with a local law firm. Overwhelmed by the crushing debts of Dan's student loans, Betty continued to <u>work</u> and earn her real estate license. Her salary helped keep the family afloat. After having their 4TH child, a son; Rhett, Dan had worked to create his own law firm. He was quickly becoming one of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">successful</u> attorney's in Southern California; whereas Dan became <u style="font-weight: bold;">HEAD</u> of the <u style="font-style: italic;">San Francisco Bar Association</u>. His success led to a 7-figure salary. When the 1980s came, so did Dan & Betty. They were able to work and <u style="font-weight: bold;">play</u>. It allowed Betty to stay at home and be a full-time mom. They were able to make ends meet <u style="font-weight: bold;">and</u> take trips; etc. They had finally <u>made</u> <u>it</u>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Despite the appearance of their "<i>idyllic</i>" marriage, all was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">well</u> with Dan & Betty. While Betty <u style="font-style: italic;">thought</u> she had the perfect life and they were partners for life; Dan's eye wondered. He often worked late into the evening, socializing in the local pubs w/ other attorney's. Dan's affinity for local pubs resulted in an <u style="font-weight: bold;">explosive</u> argument while on family vacations when he spent more time in the local bar than with his family. As hard as she tried, Betty felt she could not please Dan although he was thought to be cold & distant. Friends could see changes in Betty's demeanor at the end of the day <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHG-b3ArDtj0Pi8AO6aNLHnoAF-0xloWw-JN71gswDKGtWCAPmhb-FDIm2we8hOr1YKzetdKlp27sUrTtQkmpq7FQqeBdAEz-d6iYcw15PMst1v972LD9UcFh8EBR-8nQV08-G3yx-2VS/s1600/7539_1007746120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="321" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHG-b3ArDtj0Pi8AO6aNLHnoAF-0xloWw-JN71gswDKGtWCAPmhb-FDIm2we8hOr1YKzetdKlp27sUrTtQkmpq7FQqeBdAEz-d6iYcw15PMst1v972LD9UcFh8EBR-8nQV08-G3yx-2VS/s320/7539_1007746120.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan & Linda</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
when Dan got home from work. Betty would transform from happy and easygoing to walking on eggshells. As Dan's law practice prospered, his marriage to Betty faltered. After 14 years of marriage in 1983, Dan's attention was diverting to another woman, Linda Kolkena, after spotting her at a party he attended with Betty.<br />
<br />
Linda Kolkena was only 21-yrs-old, but Dan was so smitten with her he soon hired her as his personal assistant. It wasn't long after they'd met that Betty began to <u>suspect</u> something was wrong. Betty had caught Dan sneaking away to call Linda on the phone; including calls to Linda <u>during</u> family vacations. During one trip to London, England, Betty had discovered that Dan had sent Linda flowers. While away with the kids on a camping trip, Betty <b><u>could</u> <u>not</u> </b>reach Dan on the phone. Upon their return home, Betty finally <u style="font-weight: bold;">blurted</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">out</u> her concern about Linda. But, Dan <u style="font-weight: bold;">denied</u> that <u style="font-weight: bold;">anything</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">illicit</u> was going on. Dan <u>assured</u> Betty <u style="font-weight: bold;">repeatedly</u> that she was paranoid and insecure.<br />
<br />
After a surprise visit to Dan's at his office for his birthday; it was then that Dan had left early. Betty had arrived to his office afterward. She arrived <u>un</u>announced bearing gifts to celebrate Dan's 39TH birthday. Dan had left early for lunch w/ Linda and <u>never</u> returned. Betty had walked into <u>Linda's</u> office and seen a portrait of Dan there. Incensed and <u>believed</u> that Dan was having an affair with his assistant, Betty had driven home and pulled out all of Dan's <u style="font-weight: bold;">expensive</u>, tailor-made suits from the closet. She threw them into a pile in the backyard, poured gasoline <u style="font-weight: bold;">directly</u> on them and set them on <span style="color: orange;">fire</span>. After Dan had returned home, Betty confronted him about his assistant and Dan once again <u style="font-weight: bold;">denied</u> he was having an affair. It wasn't until <u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">after</u> that altercation with the fire that Dan had <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">admitted</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> about his affair with Linda and wanted a separation from Betty.<br />
<br />
Given Dan's stature within the legal community and <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowledge</u> of the court system, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">intentionally</u> used it as a weapon to his advantage against Betty. After announcing his intentions to seeking a divorce, Dan alone moved from the family home that had previously been under construction at Coral Reef upon completion. As a way for Dan to see what she had done, Betty would begin a move that would <u>quickly</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">regrettably</u> <u>backfire</u> on her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtPervUMlfEiABYOC59JaIZHYIyvdVG1PxzIsw8G6_ajwVApB8aQm3StTJINRGH9YkKvmTUi6BASTRkLTgAaDeHrk69K2xpAASQ0r7NZ-d_liAEDTeLUwjp9yB_p573fUotcJlc7LTksr/s1600/cake+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtPervUMlfEiABYOC59JaIZHYIyvdVG1PxzIsw8G6_ajwVApB8aQm3StTJINRGH9YkKvmTUi6BASTRkLTgAaDeHrk69K2xpAASQ0r7NZ-d_liAEDTeLUwjp9yB_p573fUotcJlc7LTksr/s200/cake+2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
To show "<i>what it's like to be a parent</i>" and not have his wife do it, Betty began dropping the kids off at Dan's residence one at a time until they were <b><u>all</u></b> at their dads. After she did that, Dan had legal maneuvered to use Betty's actions against her to which benefited him. Enraged, Betty would visit and <u>vandalize</u> the home Dan lived in. On one occasion with the kids there, Betty had taken a chocolate cream pie that Linda had baked for Dan as a gift and <u style="font-weight: bold;">SMEARED</u> it <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OVER</u> the bed as well as <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OVER</u> Dan's suits. Another occasion was when Betty had thrown a wine bottle through a window. Dan obtained a restraining order against Betty which <u style="font-weight: bold;">infuriated</u> her more.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wItPGo781jrzclJCcD1ie6iZGq7KabAiPOhpKi2w0vCqr8-ETUDCaNBg_qf_Fx_lFdH19nXeUmEOfxeCxd8ewHhe8uTqRVQs6jmzlA9MQjD7WZKzBUIPz7sF1g81yYmLIXzB3ljuGHZl/s1600/car+through+the+door+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wItPGo781jrzclJCcD1ie6iZGq7KabAiPOhpKi2w0vCqr8-ETUDCaNBg_qf_Fx_lFdH19nXeUmEOfxeCxd8ewHhe8uTqRVQs6jmzlA9MQjD7WZKzBUIPz7sF1g81yYmLIXzB3ljuGHZl/s200/car+through+the+door+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a>Dan was the one manipulating their breakup and cast Betty into a rental home and made her <u style="font-weight: bold;">appear</u> to be the bad guy whilst he <u>appeared</u> the victim. Her psyche degenerating, Betty struck again during the Christmas season of 1985. With Dan & Linda's relationship already <u>publicly</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">acknowledged</u>, they had taken the kids away for a holiday vacation. Betty, alone, once again broke into her <u>former</u> home and began destroying holiday Christmas gifts under the tree. She felt it was Christmas and whether the holiday was with her or not; Dan <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">get</u> to take Christmas from her. Things worsened for Betty. Even after moving into a new home, Dan could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> rid himself of Betty. After inciting the sell of the Coral Reef house at the price <u>Dan</u> agreed on without Betty's knowledge/permission/sign-off; all Betty had asked Dan for was what price he sold it for and what <u>her</u> portion of the sell was. She wanted her half of what was sold. When that was <u>denied</u>, Betty <u style="font-weight: bold;">deliberately</u> drove her car through/into Dan's front door. As a result, Betty was taken to a mental hospital and sedated. She was released 3 days later.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nn1vSOmDpAZ_W_kDmZTEuNogtYEwgqQu_UnvfYqksb0S91hcWqfyf2Ryyb_lB_nVW4qL54l68kqZkpl8OUXFuCzIW7Q-yb8GU4tZXNcbM3Qb0bluocqz_X-9lxJOo1iuHQutUjKhrH6W/s1600/answering+machine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nn1vSOmDpAZ_W_kDmZTEuNogtYEwgqQu_UnvfYqksb0S91hcWqfyf2Ryyb_lB_nVW4qL54l68kqZkpl8OUXFuCzIW7Q-yb8GU4tZXNcbM3Qb0bluocqz_X-9lxJOo1iuHQutUjKhrH6W/s200/answering+machine.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">answering machine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Over the next 3 years, despite <u style="font-weight: bold;">numerous</u> restraining orders, Betty continued to harass Dan & Linda by leaving <u style="font-weight: bold;">dozens</u> of profanity-laced messages on the home answering machine. Dan had to institute a fine system that would deduct $100.00 from Betty's alimony payments to her for <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> obscene word left on his machine. Instituting $250.00 for being on his property without consent and up to $1,000 if Betty took the kids away without Dan's consent. The kids themselves became pawns in Betty's fighting with Dan. Betty's anger turned <u>obsessive</u> and torment by late January 1989. Friends of Betty's <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to convince her to <u style="font-weight: bold;">see</u> what she was doing. They <u style="font-weight: bold;">tried</u> to convince her to <u style="font-weight: bold;">let</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">go</u>. For Betty's preservation, it was time to <u style="font-weight: bold;">move</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">on</u>. But, Betty seen it as disrespect for that they're taking Dan's side. On the day that their divorce was <u style="font-weight: bold;">finalized</u>, Betty wasn't given custody for which that went to Dan. She was only left with $30,000 in cash. 3 months later after their divorce was <u style="font-weight: bold;">finalized</u>, Dan Broderick married Linda Kolkena-Broderick.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3X7SoGYCPSJrWfCUhf1EVd9R4zrhk74NcLS_vousOGUhyphenhyphen-7oEZJlslYpv01j5LiKvNfYyJX_EgzNiYLRpbn-Va_3SY4jPCGw6HRMCYnnhipRdFtTb29WnuHFk-u5TH732qhjbsGdtFO2m/s1600/dan+%2526+linda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="520" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3X7SoGYCPSJrWfCUhf1EVd9R4zrhk74NcLS_vousOGUhyphenhyphen-7oEZJlslYpv01j5LiKvNfYyJX_EgzNiYLRpbn-Va_3SY4jPCGw6HRMCYnnhipRdFtTb29WnuHFk-u5TH732qhjbsGdtFO2m/s320/dan+%2526+linda.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dan & Linda</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Within a few days later, Betty went & purchased a .38 caliber revolver. She <u style="font-style: italic;">stated</u> to have bought it as a <u>threat</u> to give her custody of the kids and leave her alone . . . . . This being Betty's argument for purchasing the gun. On November 5, 1989, Betty had awoken before dawn and drove to Dan's home with the purchased gun in her possession. She had used a key that she had secretly stolen from her daughter to let herself inside Dan & Linda's. Betty had walked upstairs to Dan's bedroom; where Dan & Linda were quietly asleep. Looking at them <u>asleep</u>, Betty fired shots at both of them. Killing them both; Dan Broderick & Linda Kolkena-Broderick and taking their lives. After shooting Dan & Linda whom were both fighting for their lives, Betty went to Dan's side of the bed and as Dan was reaching for the phone to call for help/ambulance, Betty <u style="font-weight: bold;">deliberately</u> slams the phone over Dan's hand, smashing it. Betty pulls the phone cord out of the wall. Upon her exit, Betty leaves the phone on the floor <u>far</u> from Dan & Linda's reach.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIFTi9QhR6JIGaqsqvsXIEPmt04pY2PZ7F-hI3sDDVanYL-nSX6J7AMQZ82TwjOCQmw_kltXYmJ4axt9nCKu59TRxI9S-_xUWLXYKAVEE4FP48nC_zWJKzV8QPTClkN47NkVZCx-J2otJ/s1600/betty+prison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="169" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIFTi9QhR6JIGaqsqvsXIEPmt04pY2PZ7F-hI3sDDVanYL-nSX6J7AMQZ82TwjOCQmw_kltXYmJ4axt9nCKu59TRxI9S-_xUWLXYKAVEE4FP48nC_zWJKzV8QPTClkN47NkVZCx-J2otJ/s1600/betty+prison.jpg" /></a>To avert herself into worse situations, Betty had gone to turn herself into the police station. Before turning herself in, Betty had allocated a makeshift <b><u>legal</u> </b>will to her children. Within her time, Betty's first trial ended on a hung jury. During a second trial that commenced a short time later, in October 1991, what difference did the prosecution turn. For the second trial, Kate had testified in defense of her late father & new stepmother, Linda. The prosecution had played the <u>audio</u> of which Betty had spoken on. Dan's answering machine for the jury to hear. The prosecutor, Keri Wells, took in the <u style="font-weight: bold;">best</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">interest</u> of the kids. <u>Taking</u> <u>them</u> <u>into</u> <u>account</u>. The recording heard in the courtroom was what/how Betty spoke to her youngest, Rhett, of their father & Linda. What she said to him on that call <u>backfired</u> on her in court.<br />
<br />
When it came time for the verdict in the 2ND trial, Betty was <u>convicted</u> of 2 counts of 2ND Degree Murder. She was sentenced to 32-years-to-life in prison. Betty <u>was</u> eligible for parole in March 2011. Due to lack of remorse & guilt, Betty remains at the <u style="font-style: italic;">California Women's Correctional Facility</u> in Chowchilla.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjku-nxGZPJsoUroUjF6aqu6a3y8_ZC7UX4kWbpUYzIRhgjEfBQMkeoHecdSmKfUnpvSvsgcyYr9vtd6ghAAmwFt1tmgbSqZImvQXYV14YTIBWutGzOiISxbXQ67lHR2FzUEsSGy3WrFD7L/s1600/betty+on+oprah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="350" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjku-nxGZPJsoUroUjF6aqu6a3y8_ZC7UX4kWbpUYzIRhgjEfBQMkeoHecdSmKfUnpvSvsgcyYr9vtd6ghAAmwFt1tmgbSqZImvQXYV14YTIBWutGzOiISxbXQ67lHR2FzUEsSGy3WrFD7L/s200/betty+on+oprah.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Betty on <i><u>Oprah</u></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Betty described Dan as intermittently abusive. Contrary to comments Betty made on <u style="font-style: italic;">Oprah</u> in 1992, <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> impact on Dan <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>; which is why she escalated the intensity of her actions. <u>In</u> <u>her</u> <u>mind</u>, Dan was going to listen to her <b><u>NO</u> <u>MATTER</u> <u>WHAT</u>!</b> <u>Betty</u>'s version of <u style="font-weight: bold;">Real</u>ity was <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">POWERFUL</u> than the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u>.<br />
there didn't seem to be evidence of physical abuse; but there were signs of emotional. Betty didn't believe that she was having <u style="font-weight: bold;">any</u> impact on Dan <u style="font-weight: bold;">at</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u>, which is why she escalated the intensity of her actions. <u>In</u> <u>her</u> <u>mind</u>, Dan was going to listen to Betty <b><u>NO</u> <u>MATTER</u> <u>WHAT</u>!</b> <u>Betty</u>'s version of <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>ity was <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">POWERFUL</u> than the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Reality</u>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Despite these murders being more than <u>20</u> years ago, the <u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> factor that is plaguing is this . . . . <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">these</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">later</u>, Betty <u style="font-weight: bold;">CONTINUES</u> to have <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REMORSE</u> for these murders or for the kids losing their father and stepmother. During parole hearings, there is <u style="font-weight: bold;">STILL</u> a reason to blame Dan & Linda for Betty to have had her actions. The kids <u style="font-weight: bold;">TO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">THIS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">DAY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">STILL</u> hear their mom disrespect their dad & Linda with her words to which they <u><b>WANTED</b></u> her to <u style="font-weight: bold;">let</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">it</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">go</u>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uYr1e6KnvWlyA_Udfqqljm66e2bOLDeNaf4_z1Zsao33jEwT7CVpgxkojhMK7fWQ34CgEYf3SicTOQQylqv-YoEr-Vw3z0anXzKxk1H0IhUWr8MdZpdAIvNbsvvBkLmUwYsuNTArICkU/s1600/a+woman+scorned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="800" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uYr1e6KnvWlyA_Udfqqljm66e2bOLDeNaf4_z1Zsao33jEwT7CVpgxkojhMK7fWQ34CgEYf3SicTOQQylqv-YoEr-Vw3z0anXzKxk1H0IhUWr8MdZpdAIvNbsvvBkLmUwYsuNTArICkU/s400/a+woman+scorned.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
In 1992, a movie aired on <u style="font-style: italic;">Lifetime</u> detailing Betty's story leading up to the murders called <i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">A Woman Scorned</i><u>:</u><i style="text-decoration-line: underline;">The Betty Broderick Story</i> starring Meredith Baxter as Betty and Stephen Collins as Dan and Michelle Johnson as Linda; which is what <b>this</b> <b><u>TRUE</u></b> <b>book</b>/story <b>is</b> <b>based</b>. It was so popular in its time, a sequel was made leaving where the first film left off with the murders and continuing to Betty's trial and conviction.Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-69574407945217990072017-01-31T23:30:00.000-08:002017-06-14T10:42:48.371-07:00Stronger, Faster, Smarter: A Guide To Your Most Powerful Body<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ElPQ-wRc9bSfW6wD8jsCCYEor9_HthQ8_Kk6qPmh3uJ6XMIcqKPqMWTn8Q0oCKxUz0YOth8PmjYqzp0c8IjKJSLIBBy_RCtfrb7HiJLqvgJkhSPQprZME0OeFUnSWhdX35fKg-ZM7H0T/s1600/book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ElPQ-wRc9bSfW6wD8jsCCYEor9_HthQ8_Kk6qPmh3uJ6XMIcqKPqMWTn8Q0oCKxUz0YOth8PmjYqzp0c8IjKJSLIBBy_RCtfrb7HiJLqvgJkhSPQprZME0OeFUnSWhdX35fKg-ZM7H0T/s320/book+cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
To start a <u>new</u> 2017 year, I thought I would begin with a <u>new</u> book that means <u>ALOT</u> to me. While this book <i>may be</i> about fitness; it also gets <u>personal</u>. It is a story about how <u>in</u>justice in the judicial system is and how this man <u style="font-weight: bold;">powered</u> through to make this time in his life <u style="font-weight: bold;">MATTER</u>. A time <u>not</u> to be <u>wasted</u>, but to <u style="font-weight: bold;">learn</u>. Here is the story of his skill, technique, education & <u style="font-weight: bold;">ULTIMATELY</u> his story of being <u style="font-weight: bold;">wrongfully</u> <u>convicted</u> of a crime he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> commit from the man himself; Ryan William Ferguson.<br />
<br />
"<b><i>God asks no man whether he will accept life. That is not the choice. You must take it. The only choice is how.</i></b>" <i>Henry Ward Beecher</i><br />
<br />
Ryan came of age within the confines of a maximum-security prison for a crime he did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> commit. In total, he lost nearly an <u style="font-weight: bold;">ENTIRE</u> decade of his life. Ryan's life was <u>changed</u> on March 10, 2004. That was the date he was arrested for murder. Over that last decade, Ryan experienced more setbacks & defeats than most people experience in an <b><u>ENTIRE</u> </b><u>lifetime</u>. After <u>see</u>ing the inner workings of the United States justice system at its <u style="font-weight: bold;">very</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> and how the <u style="font-weight: bold;">truth</u> comes <u>second</u> to a conviction; Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">gave</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">up</u>. Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">endlessly</u> fought to prove his innocence. Once he was convicted, Ryan was face with 2 choices: fight or flight.<br />
<br />
Ryan himself was a 19-yr-old kid who had <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> been in trouble with the law and had <u style="font-weight: bold;">suddenly</u> found himself locked up in a county jail and later in a maximum-security prison. After the initial panic subsided and having to face this <u>new</u> reality of a possible life sentence staring down at him, the <u>only</u> thing Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> how to do was fight. <u style="font-weight: bold;">FIGHT</u> for his future. <u style="font-weight: bold;">FIGHT</u> for his life. <u style="font-weight: bold;">FIGHT</u> for his mind, his body and <u style="font-weight: bold;">MOST</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IMPORTANTLY</u> his innocence. Ryan had to <u>find</u> <u>a</u> <u>way</u>. More than that, he had to <u>find</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u> <u>way</u>. His way through the stresses, the pain and the fear in order to make himself <u style="font-weight: bold;">tougher</u>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtguFNKNHuhC95XjGQUKcDYsgVFpJs8As50BGZ2k5AHG3_o9DjEDyx8ABVorBHHehjsqYN5L_RnDQAb69RZipX-M7ssTXBeowrMpyXi24mmfZdXZAkEGNnXM2tBJaj_yeSKThLH8HBbIF/s1600/48+hours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtguFNKNHuhC95XjGQUKcDYsgVFpJs8As50BGZ2k5AHG3_o9DjEDyx8ABVorBHHehjsqYN5L_RnDQAb69RZipX-M7ssTXBeowrMpyXi24mmfZdXZAkEGNnXM2tBJaj_yeSKThLH8HBbIF/s320/48+hours.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Ryan endured many tribulations & trials that could have destroyed his will. That was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> him. With overwhelming <u style="font-weight: bold;">fact</u> and <u>family</u> support, Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">refused</u> to let someone get away with something he did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> do. As time went on, media attention drew cause for the case which was featured on several news correspondence programs; such as <i><u>48 Hours</u></i>.<br />
<br />
It all began on Halloween night 2001. At around 2:10A., the sports editor for the <u style="font-style: italic;">Columbia Daily Tribune</u>; Kent Heitholt, had logged off of his computer and left his office in Missouri. Within minutes, Kent was savagely attacked and murdered next to his car in the parking lot. A murder that had shocked the community. Sitting in the empty parking lot was Heitholt's colleague, Michael Boyd. Boyd claimed they had spoken briefly and then drove away around 2:20A. Heitholt, whom was 6'3/315 LBS, was struck from behind his head multiple times and strangled with his own belt. Nothing of value was stolen from him; aside from possibly an inexpensive watch and his car keys.<br />
<br />
The first people on the scene were 2 janitors. One of them had gone out for a break and observed 2 figures behind Heitholt's car. As suspicion mounted, one retraced their steps and called on their co-worker, Jerry Trump. They had peered out into the parking lot but couldn't see anything. Finally, Trump called out and 2 men stepped from behind the car. The man at the rear of the car called out for help before calmly rejoining the other man and walking away. Jerry Trump's co-worker, Shawna Ornt, had gotten a good look at the man, <u>including</u> <u>his</u> <u>face</u>, before leaving the scene and called 911 at 2:26A. Later that night, Shawna Ornt helped police create a composite drawing of the man who had spoken to her. Police seen her as the "<i>sole witness</i>". Jerry was also questioned. After telling police & later others, he couldn't identify or give a detailed description of the individuals. Meanwhile, Boyd, the last <u>known</u> person to see Kent Heitholt <u>alive</u>, was <u>brief</u>ly questioned by the police and was <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> investigated as a <u>potential</u> suspect.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_deQB3EZO-w417YHFovv8tPy283sf8se1l6Rxc-0CiVmIkHMZu1x5eaoAyuwlmRKPqc9M-bauJGcdzIu2F9h-SOwZTX9_ghheNiMHKaqj8gT3fVdYw1Ym4pQkLllY_vLJfB6KsQSCyjQl/s1600/Missouri_Tigers_M_Tiger_Logo_Mizzou_House_Banner_Flag_27x37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_deQB3EZO-w417YHFovv8tPy283sf8se1l6Rxc-0CiVmIkHMZu1x5eaoAyuwlmRKPqc9M-bauJGcdzIu2F9h-SOwZTX9_ghheNiMHKaqj8gT3fVdYw1Ym4pQkLllY_vLJfB6KsQSCyjQl/s200/Missouri_Tigers_M_Tiger_Logo_Mizzou_House_Banner_Flag_27x37.jpg" width="169" /></a>Investigators discovered a trail of hair, blood & fingerprints at the crime scene. There were <u>2</u> sets of footprints leading away from the scene. A police K-9 unit tracked the scent from those shoe prints to a <u style="font-style: italic;">University Of Missouri</u> dorm. The authorities printed a <u>trove</u> of evidence. <u style="font-style: italic;">The Tribune</u> printed an article in hopes of gaining information about the unsolved murder. The article displayed the sketch that Shawna Ornt assisted investigators with and urged the community to speak up for information.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJAd1ErtqiF1n4tihTnjAQ4PRTIYgxEhRuZzbYtJJiHGRhOW0xeJkbPOAyS_zfVEm5RY1wl_MBHC7Z8WO4yB0d5vXY4si3aHcJ5YoO2lEn8Srm7dRYWUIH35AgPh1m_ROnDOJSg6aOKDO/s1600/Dream-Killer-2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJAd1ErtqiF1n4tihTnjAQ4PRTIYgxEhRuZzbYtJJiHGRhOW0xeJkbPOAyS_zfVEm5RY1wl_MBHC7Z8WO4yB0d5vXY4si3aHcJ5YoO2lEn8Srm7dRYWUIH35AgPh1m_ROnDOJSg6aOKDO/s320/Dream-Killer-2015.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
The Columbia P.D. were <u style="font-weight: bold;">eager</u> to crack the case that <u style="font-weight: bold;">facts</u> <u>became</u> <u>secondary</u>. A lead arrived in the form of a newspaper article by a reader of it. Charles Erickson, a high school friend of Ryan's, seen the composite sketch and thought it vaguely resembled him/Charles. He then appeared to have a <u>dream</u> that he was involved in the murder. On account of these "<i>images</i>", Erickson aired his dreams/fears to his friends; including Ryan. Needless to say, Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">clearly</u> remembered that Halloween night he & Erickson had been at a local bar called <u style="font-style: italic;">By George</u>. They left at closing time. Ryan then drove him home and then drove himself home. Although it <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">make</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">sense</u>, Erickson's story was taken <u style="font-weight: bold;">seriously</u> by one <u>friend</u> who reported the dream to the police. Following that trip, for which there was a $10,000 reward, Erickson was picked up for questioning in March 2004. Erickson had no <u style="font-weight: bold;">actual</u> independent knowledge of the crime. He didn't know what the murder weapon was, how many times Kent Heitholt had been struck, or even where the murder had taken place. And those images from his dreams . . . . <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> of them fit the <u style="font-weight: bold;">actual</u> crime scene. Nevertheless the police, desperate to clear up a high-profile cold case, <u>proceeded</u> to coerce and spoon-fed Erickson key <u style="font-weight: bold;">unique</u> details about the crime. <u>Now</u>, here is where Ryan comes in.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtFzvmlP4L2W5CfThe7hyphenhypheny9hovGHTHx4dQKqLDXUIaJKTs0OwqumE3aPzMVeOKcz44Ui2dJB7nSqcLamVAdOJtljB84Ro8qpoP7UQkHTRmNeSdr1oczpIQxBHRtmJbkKDsJ5y3erW0aqr/s1600/maple+wood+community+college.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdtFzvmlP4L2W5CfThe7hyphenhypheny9hovGHTHx4dQKqLDXUIaJKTs0OwqumE3aPzMVeOKcz44Ui2dJB7nSqcLamVAdOJtljB84Ro8qpoP7UQkHTRmNeSdr1oczpIQxBHRtmJbkKDsJ5y3erW0aqr/s320/maple+wood+community+college.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
That morning in March, right outside of Kansas City, Missouri, was like any other day for Ryan. He was attending <u style="font-style: italic;">History</u> class at <u style="font-style: italic;">Maple Woods Community College</u>. The only thing on his mind was the next exam. There were no worries. Ryan had a decent job, good friends, an amazing family and a bright future. All was going well until Ryan left class and was heading home. On the way there, 2 huge guys were riding up on Ryan in an SUV on his bumper. He thought at first is was assholes on the road. Nothing new. Once the lane he was in went from one-into-two, Ryan was being stared down as they passed. He soon turned off to the parking lot of his apartment. When he put the car in park; that SUV was blocking him, therein Ryan's life would <b><u>NEVER</u> <u>BE</u> <u>THE</u> <u>SAME</u>!</b> (<i>This is something <u><b>I</b></u> can <u><b>personally</b></u> <u><b>relate</b></u> to</i>! <i>While it <u>wasn't</u> a legal action</i>; <i>it was </i><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">severely</u><i> </i><b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration: underline;">medical</b>. <i>It all began in January of 2000</i>. <i>When the kids were back in school</i>, <i>I</i>, <i>on the other hand</i>, <i>was taken down a different road in the 8TH grade at 15-yrs-old</i>. <i>I was born with medical problems from the start</i>. <i>In 8TH grade, I was already on </i>C.A.P.D. - <i>dialysis done at home. When I was on a machine called <u>The Cycler</u> to be given more dialysis fluid to be needed</i>, <i>problems arose shortly after Christmas break</i>. <i>Problems arose with </i><u style="font-style: italic;">The Cycler</u>. <i>Problems came one-after-another to where I had to spend 5 months IN-AND-OUT of </i><u style="font-style: italic;">Riley Hospital For Children</u>.<i> Therein spending the ages between 15-30 on hemodialysis and at </i><u><i>Indiana University </i>(<i>I</i>.<i>U.</i>)<i> Hospital</i></u><i>. Thankfully, I was blessed with a transplant in 2015. From there, life for me </i><u style="font-style: italic;">personally</u><i> whilest on dialysis was & has </i><b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration: underline;">never</b><i> been the same. Seeing the world </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">COMPLETELY</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">DIFFERENT</u><i> then I had back then. Those years in a hospital + <b><u>years</u></b> on dialysis being raised around ADULTS at a young age </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CHANGED</u><i> my life and has </i><b><u>NEVER</u> <u>BEEN</u> <u>THE</u> <u>SAME</u>!</b>)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0zA3nSGjP29g51f9N1FXTUI1GLGuYh3tF4w0bUyANA4bW0sjcl_bLx-9h2uNF9jAdZ4aftfBEUWK-7OLLTzHDVioBoQbnwIgD23zJLRKamN0olRqGJhFWHK1GKJY-oGY1yRzSmCvGhyl/s1600/aefb13d3-feff-45c1-84b3-6405aba742e6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0zA3nSGjP29g51f9N1FXTUI1GLGuYh3tF4w0bUyANA4bW0sjcl_bLx-9h2uNF9jAdZ4aftfBEUWK-7OLLTzHDVioBoQbnwIgD23zJLRKamN0olRqGJhFWHK1GKJY-oGY1yRzSmCvGhyl/s200/aefb13d3-feff-45c1-84b3-6405aba742e6.jpeg" width="200" /></a>These people that Ryan had never seen before proceeded to treat him like dirt under their shoes, rushing at him screaming "<i>F.B.I.</i>" telling him <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> to move. From the arrest, to locking him in a car handcuffed with <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> explanation, to <u>random</u>ly stripping <u style="font-weight: bold;">every</u> right Ryan had, things were becoming intense. Ryan didn't know what to make of it. He even thought he was being arrested for a recent bomb threat at their school. Ryan had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">IDEA</u> what was going on. He was just <b><u>COMPLETELY</u> <u>&</u> <u>TOTALLY</u> <u>LOST</u>!</b> Within an hour, Ryan found himself in an interrogation room. He had told the police time & time again, over multiple hours of redundant questioning, that yes, Ryan had been at the <u style="font-style: italic;">By George</u> bar with Erickson on 10-31-2001. Stating the obvious, he was there, but had left around 1:30A when the establishment closed. Ryan told the police <u style="font-weight: bold;">repeated</u>ly how he'd driven Erickson home on Halloween night 2001. He had driven Erickson home, before Ryan had driven himself home. These were the <u style="font-weight: bold;">FACTS</u> and Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> wavered from them.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, while doing what he could to help, these <u>same</u> police were doing what they could to wring a confession; right, wrong or indifferent; from Erickson. Erickson had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> <u>personal</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowledge</u> of Heitholt's murder, he had stated <u>multiple</u> times that he blacked out and didn't know what happened after leaving the bar, police <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> seem to <u style="font-weight: bold;">care</u>. After many <u style="font-weight: bold;">grueling</u> hours of threats & lies from detectives, Erickson cracked under the pressure. Thinking the police were being <u>straight</u> with him, Erickson told them what they wanted to hear. Over the following months, as Prosecutor Kevin Crane charged them both with murder, Erickson's statement <u>slowly</u> evolved, changing 3x aided by "<i>discovery</i>", which contained fabricated police reports bolstering Erickson's supposed guilt with an exhaustive source of details about this crime, Erickson <u>came</u> <u>to</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">believe</u> his dreams were true that he & Ryan had murdered Heitholt in a robbery gone wrong. Due to this <u>false</u> belief, the fear <u style="font-style: italic;">must've</u> been they committed this crime. Erickson <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">panicked</u> and agreed to a plea deal that would frame Ryan for a crime he <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NOTHING</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">do</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">with</u> and leave Erickson with a lesser sentence.<br />
<br />
From the time of Ryan's arrest in March 2004 until his trial in October 2005, Ryan found himself <u>trapped</u> inside the county jail. The judge that sentenced him, the "<i>Honorable</i>" Judge Ellen Roper, chose to ignore the "<i>excessive bail shall not be required</i>" part of the Constitution and gave Ryan one for $20 million. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">largest</u> of its kind in <u>history</u>. They would soon find it to be the <u>first</u> of many indications that those within the justice system simply not hold their colleagues responsible for its actions. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NONE</u> of the DNA evidence at the scene matched neither Charles or Ryan; there was <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> motive. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> criminal record. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u> was that there was, and would remain, <u style="font-weight: bold;">ZERO</u> evidence connecting Ryan to this case. After multiple coaching sessions in prosecutor Kevin Crane's office, the Charles Erickson they seen in court was a new man. Confident & assured in his testimony. Taking the stand and pointing Ryan out as being responsible for the murder of Kent Heitholt. It was still <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u> from being an open-and-shut case.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgns26-LPL-OMgsiOpUA-u3acUPYFKvbHDMs_MwDsy2fcZwBi09oF4Evfavw2vx6761F8_2H6aF_BpqIHDI-Hvq_Np1qhqOZ2CSFJcIcG_yMkGnoLwMl2Xe1-7O5_NKZOGhIo44-6jRxlJZ/s1600/court.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgns26-LPL-OMgsiOpUA-u3acUPYFKvbHDMs_MwDsy2fcZwBi09oF4Evfavw2vx6761F8_2H6aF_BpqIHDI-Hvq_Np1qhqOZ2CSFJcIcG_yMkGnoLwMl2Xe1-7O5_NKZOGhIo44-6jRxlJZ/s320/court.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Ryan's attorney <u>barely</u> fought back. Partially due to poor preparation for trial; a sad <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> that plays out <u style="font-weight: bold;">way</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">too</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">often</u> and not <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> evidence was given to fight this case to begin with, which <b><u>is</u></b> an illegal action. It tends to happen in a <u>vast</u> of innocent cases. Nevertheless, Prosecutor Kevin Crane had a new "<i>star witness</i>" to place Erickson & Ryan at the scene: janitor Jerry Trump. Trump had <u style="font-weight: bold;">previously</u> stated he didn't see/identify anyone at the scene, he <i>now</i> identified Ryan in front of the jury as the man he seen the night of the murder. Prosecutor Kevin Crane made the <u>choice</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> to ask Shawna Ornt if she could identify Ryan as being there. Shawna Ornt, the <u>sole</u> witness, later testified in a 2008 evidentiary hearing that she met with Crane <u>3</u>x <u>prior</u> to Ryan's trial. Her testimony stated that she told Crane <u style="font-weight: bold;">numerous</u> times that the men she seen that night were neither Erickson nor Ryan. Not enough for Ryan's "<i>attorney</i>" or the jury.<br />
<br />
After hearing 5 days of evidence, coinciding with Ryan's <u>21</u>ST <u>birthday</u>, the jury went into deliberations. Hours later, they had come back with a verdict. Ryan was found <u><i>guilty</i></u> of <u style="font-style: italic;">1ST Degree Robbery</u> <u>and</u> <u style="font-style: italic;">2ND Degree Murder</u>. Ryan was sentenced to 40 years in prison. (<i>Happy 21ST birthday</i>!) Where Ryan was going was <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u> than county jail. <b><u>NO</u>!</b> Instead it would be place Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> expected to be: State Prison. Ryan was shocked, betrayed, scared, lost . . . .you name it, Ryan was <u style="font-weight: bold;">feeling</u> it. A flood of emotions you attempt to avoid in life. Ryan felt powerless whilest those in charge of his sentence held the key. It left Ryan with <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> questions. This, thankfully, was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> the end of his journey. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Incensed</u> by the jury's verdict and <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> Ryan was <u>innocent</u>, the Ferguson family <u style="font-weight: bold;">made</u> <u><b>it</b></u> their <u style="font-weight: bold;">mission</u> to uncover as much evidence as possible to <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> Ryan's case.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42DdqBhaLH3IIj7CSoZswwYj3YvKB0W20i4l15BwNn2dF0ZTHCE7mu_xPzYXi_Sm81CNDr3tjV7vwbGYO08XYWOZSTMpBTwL1hI0yDc2KzEexjrUNiqF00snTjYPgPQjt3ObT9zfSpMKG/s1600/father+and+son.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42DdqBhaLH3IIj7CSoZswwYj3YvKB0W20i4l15BwNn2dF0ZTHCE7mu_xPzYXi_Sm81CNDr3tjV7vwbGYO08XYWOZSTMpBTwL1hI0yDc2KzEexjrUNiqF00snTjYPgPQjt3ObT9zfSpMKG/s320/father+and+son.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill & Ryan; Father & Son</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAQJGDMySutFGMRabzp1TJD7WgU8mqTCa8MXJ3lMxlS7JUSvPLb642RtVBDfaYMJaawQSXohxpkKU3xYzMqVpcuEaOedIkR3dZZb6JxjYcVU6bwQhFrX5sWP_niE9492OGva8PQKG3yRn/s1600/ryan+%2526+kathleen+zellner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAQJGDMySutFGMRabzp1TJD7WgU8mqTCa8MXJ3lMxlS7JUSvPLb642RtVBDfaYMJaawQSXohxpkKU3xYzMqVpcuEaOedIkR3dZZb6JxjYcVU6bwQhFrX5sWP_niE9492OGva8PQKG3yRn/s320/ryan+%2526+kathleen+zellner.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan & Kathleen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlXAj7M5HCqraPCiDVDH6jDm0EMtcUqTt9hbIGbz78TYif0nbDlRi92upVUlUw07y7YpKFwYqiV_o3jYuQR6h9TiAy3NvT1aeVh1jcnRedjYN6zoiHAAvLJP9zLDPR59b8mx8bHTuOb67/s1600/48hours+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBlXAj7M5HCqraPCiDVDH6jDm0EMtcUqTt9hbIGbz78TYif0nbDlRi92upVUlUw07y7YpKFwYqiV_o3jYuQR6h9TiAy3NvT1aeVh1jcnRedjYN6zoiHAAvLJP9zLDPR59b8mx8bHTuOb67/s200/48hours+-+Copy.jpg" width="87" /></a>Ryan's dad, Bill Ferguson, eventually uncovered a shocking series of facts that would help <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> the NON-BASIS of Ryan's arrest & conviction. Following Ryan's conviction in 2008, he was back in court <u style="font-weight: bold;">several</u> times over the years in a series of <u>hopeless</u> appeals & denials. Judges didn't want to stand out among their colleagues. So, Ryan sat in prison for <u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u> while officials lived a high-life. Continuing throughout <u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u> of appeals, <u>even</u> <u>though</u> 2 prosecuting witnesses testified & admitted to perjury, <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> physical evidence to link Ryan to Heitholt's murder and the "<i>sole witness</i>" to the crime stated Ryan was <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> the person they seen in the parking lot. A few months before his trial. in October 2008, the media began to take an interest in Ryan's case. Over the years, 3 major news magazine shows ended up highlighting Ryan's family's extraordinary efforts & their attention that would <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> invaluable in securing Ryan's eventual release. <u>CBS</u>' <u style="font-style: italic;">48 Hours</u> & <u>NBC</u>'s <u style="font-style: italic;">Dateline</u> <u>each</u> ended up airing <u>4</u> episodes on the absurdity of this case. Later, <u>ABC</u>'s <u style="font-style: italic;">Nightline</u> also aired 2 <u style="font-weight: bold;">detailed</u> segments & <u>other</u> <u>media</u> interviews. <u>Beyond</u> <u>that</u>, there were <u style="font-weight: bold;">countless</u> newspaper articles & posts written about Ryan's struggles and his family's.<br />
<br />
All of the media attention eventually attracted the interest of prominent defense attorney Kathleen Zellner. An <u style="font-weight: bold;">extremely</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">well</u><b>-</b><u style="font-weight: bold;">respected</u> lawyer who focuses on appealing wrongful convictions. Kathleen's <u>brilliance</u> & <u>incredible</u> <u>work</u> <u>ethic</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">essential</u> for the fight to come. In the fall of 2009, Kathleen & her legal team met with Ryan and his family, <u style="font-weight: bold;">examined</u> the evidence and <u style="font-weight: bold;">realized</u> there <u>had</u> <u>indeed</u> been a miscarriage of justice. They had taken Ryan's case pro-bono, no expenses and worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">tirelessly</u> to <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> Ryan's innocence. Shortly after they had come on board, an <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredible</u> break occurred in this case. Out of the blue, Ryan had received <u style="font-weight: bold;">un</u>expected <u>good</u> news. In November 2009, Charles Erickson had decided to come clean in a handwritten statement <u>admitting</u> he <u>lied</u> <u>under</u> <u>oath</u> at trial! <u>Finally</u>! After <u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u> of attempting to <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u> the obvious to a bunch of courts <u style="font-weight: bold;">un</u>willing to <u>listen</u> to the evidence, the truth would reveal itself. Ryan was still a bit afright since he <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> how these courts operated. A <u style="color: red;">hellish</u> journey would soon come to its long-<u>awaited</u> conclusion. After seeing the way this went and the evidence to back it up, For the <u>first</u> time in years, Ryan began to <u>dream</u> again. Later on, things began to look even more promising.<br />
<br />
Ryan's defense team ended up speaking with the other witness, Jerry Trump, who confessed to lying during his trial testimony under pressure from the prosecution. <i>A <u>classic</u> scenario for the state's to drum up <u>false</u> testimony and pressure </i>"<i>witnesses</i>" <i>for their </i> "<i>story</i>" <i>that places shots to kill the defense</i>. When Erickson & Trump took the stand at Ryan's habeas corpus hearing in April 2012 and <u style="font-weight: bold;">admitted</u> to their lying, they were subjected to perjury. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAPPENING</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">BEFORE</u> in an American courtroom during a habeas corpus. How else do you describe a moment like this in a case built on <u style="font-weight: bold;">nothing</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">but</u><b> </b><u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">words</u>? <u>This</u> <u>was</u> <b><u>IT</u>!</b> Ryan's time had come, <u>vindication</u> had begun! It was a watershed moment in his case. Or so it seemed. . .<br />
<br />
6 months later, almost <u>to</u> <u>the</u> <u>day</u> of the anniversary of Kent Heitholt's murder, Judge Daniel Green <u style="font-weight: bold;">denied</u> Ryan's appeal, stating that Trump's trial testimony had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">weight</u> in the jury's verdict and that Erickson's habeaus testimony was "<i>unreliable</i>". Green had confused quite a few facts of Ryan's case, <u>not</u> <u>to</u> <u>mention</u> Missouri law. He misstated a witness's testimony of where Ryan's car was parked at the <u style="font-style: italic;">By George</u> nightclub in his 2012 findings. An <u style="font-weight: bold;">intentional</u> <u>attempt</u> to <u>alter</u> the facts. <b><i>How could a man given the responsibility to determine the course of another's </i><u>ENTIRE</u><i> future not even take the time to get the facts </i><u>STRAIGHT</u>?</b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJk-yYLiLhTrcB-vvmsiMv4L-offN1LSanqx6vIX0ZKpR903Z_zUBYjFtq1xxOVqEmfo-p3Lc5j19U3bTp5csksLA6bqnCDZ6bP9b9nCIYlPlYKBYXd_OOmOeLNf0WEfU7ZqZcQcsGedYv/s1600/Ferguson_Erickson2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJk-yYLiLhTrcB-vvmsiMv4L-offN1LSanqx6vIX0ZKpR903Z_zUBYjFtq1xxOVqEmfo-p3Lc5j19U3bTp5csksLA6bqnCDZ6bP9b9nCIYlPlYKBYXd_OOmOeLNf0WEfU7ZqZcQcsGedYv/s320/Ferguson_Erickson2.jpg" width="284" /></a><b><br /></b>
<u style="font-weight: bold;">ALL</u> of Ryan's hopes & dreams for the future were soon <u>gone</u>. Taken away in an instant. It <u>looked</u> <u>like</u> Ryan's future would soon turned to be that of the only person in the United States to <u>still</u> be imprisoned with <u style="font-weight: bold;">ABSOLUTELY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> evidence and with the only <i>alleged</i> eyewitnesses, whose testimony was <u>key</u> in Ryan's conviction, recanting in <u>open</u> court. Nonetheless, they fought. On January 31, 2013, Ryan's attorney filed a petition requesting a writ of habeas corpus from the Western District Court Of Appeals challenging the judge's ruling. Ryan's faith had began to wain in Missouri courts. Even with <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> evidence and the only "<i>witnesses</i>" of this case recanting the Missouri attorney general, opposing the petition seen it as a "<i>waste of judicial resources</i>". Even at this point, justice <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> exist. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> how much evidence, <u style="font-weight: bold;">facts</u> or <u style="font-weight: bold;">proof</u>, they weren't listening. They didn't care.<br />
<br />
At this point, Ryan <u>almost</u> lost hope & faith. Chances were Ryan would spend the next 30 years listening to his cellmate snore as he <u>attempted</u> to sleep while an officer was shining a light <u>into</u> <u>his</u> <u>eyes</u>. On September 10, 2013. Ryan's case was heard in front of the <u style="font-style: italic;">Western District Court Of Appeals</u>. Ryan wasn't there but everyone else he knew and cared about was. A huge day with <u>all</u> media flying down. A crazy time in Ryan's life. He anxiously awaited in his cell on what/how things happened. It was so surreal. Ryan even wrote a post on <u style="font-style: italic;">Facebook</u> about it, one of the many that would highlight his thoughts and feelings at the time. Ryan had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> access to the Internet the time in prison. He would recite a post his girlfriend over the phone, so she could type it in her phone then post it on <u style="font-style: italic;">Facebook</u>.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5M0nKrc_sC9nwhbHcXANoRegR91GpnIT_LGipwSKLS-BFRXfYsffQLGoONA_xmRgRdHTWSjW4Mo5ze8n0hyphenhyphenS5UZ5Jq92MTd0uSSmwLxbICG_UW0fjd-O-Oxz4qbXP9lRLMLcLzq5BBmnb/s1600/806987383-200_s.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5M0nKrc_sC9nwhbHcXANoRegR91GpnIT_LGipwSKLS-BFRXfYsffQLGoONA_xmRgRdHTWSjW4Mo5ze8n0hyphenhyphenS5UZ5Jq92MTd0uSSmwLxbICG_UW0fjd-O-Oxz4qbXP9lRLMLcLzq5BBmnb/s1600/806987383-200_s.gif" /></a>Later that day, Ryan received an <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ecstatic</u> phone call from Kathleen Zellner saying that things had gone great. Better than she had ever hoped! Ryan felt nothing. Maybe fear, sadness or bewilderment; certainly <u>not</u> joy. Even as Ryan was able to speak to all those he loved & cared about, his emotions never changed. After losing faith, <u>hope</u> <u><b>n</b></u><u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">existed</u>. "<i style="font-weight: bold;"> Let me tell you something. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane</i>." - Lloyd Ellis "<i>Red</i>" Redding from the Stephen King book & film <u style="font-style: italic;">The Shawshank Redemption</u>.<br />
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGkV_S26i7XJo4XaWv4Cg3WuP-h7WvWiR9tQwWaA9S83nzlOEFgcm1Z5twgib5j26G4G6kOGSPDe5kTwZo4v6SWsdDGWwMZSMFptseetATaJYufW6DJA2wG1cD5lQrpDxLspAWxNhDYRG/s1600/ryan%2527s+release.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGkV_S26i7XJo4XaWv4Cg3WuP-h7WvWiR9tQwWaA9S83nzlOEFgcm1Z5twgib5j26G4G6kOGSPDe5kTwZo4v6SWsdDGWwMZSMFptseetATaJYufW6DJA2wG1cD5lQrpDxLspAWxNhDYRG/s1600/ryan%2527s+release.jpg" /></a>After a couple of months went by, on November 5, 2013, after spending <u style="font-weight: bold;">9</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">years</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">8</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">months</u> behind bars, the <u style="font-style: italic;">Western District Court Of Appeals</u> panel of judges ruled. It <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">happened</u>. Ryan's <u><b>conviction</b></u> was <b><u>successfully</u></b> <b><u>overturned</u>!</b> A week later, on November 12, 2013, Ryan was <u style="font-weight: bold;">un</u>expectedly released. He was a <u>free</u> man for the first time in nearly 10 years. Chris Koster, the same <u>attorney</u> <u>general</u> who 9 months earlier; stated it being a waste, decided not to retry or pursue further legal action against Ryan. Justice had <u style="font-weight: bold;">finally</u> won! Beginning his hell at 19 with his arrest and released less than a month after Ryan's 24TH birthday. A <u style="font-weight: bold;">TOTAL</u> of 9 years, 8 months & 2 days in prison were taken and robbed of Ryan for a murder he had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u> involvement in.<br />
<br />
While high school friends went off to college, graduated, pursued careers married and had children; Ryan was behind bars. He had <u><b>missed</b></u> the college experience, friends' weddings, other celebrations and even <u>his</u> <u>own</u> <u>grandmother's</u> <u>funeral</u>. While everyone else was moving on, Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">remained</u> falsely imprisoned. <i style="font-weight: bold;">This is something </i><b>I</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> can <u>personally</u> <u>understand</u> <u>&</u> <u>truly</u> <u>relate</u> to due to </i><u style="font-weight: bold;">MANY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">YEARS</u><i style="font-weight: bold;"> of surgeries and hospitalizations</i><b>. </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">My position is that you miss out on those experiences</i>. Your life is <b><u>never</u></b> the same. Therefore, herein this book <b><u>is</u> <u>about</u> </b><u>Ryan's</u> journey in prison and his experiences <u>as</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> <u>of</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">MANY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">WRONGFUL</u> convictions in the legal system.<br />
<br />
Through the days of <u>mental</u> oppression and the <u>physical</u> hell of those first few years, Ryan somehow managed to find a balance and was able to maintain <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> of his sanity. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Staying</u> focused and learning what he has along the way, Ryan emerged from prison after 10 years not just <u>un</u>broken <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">but</u> also <u style="font-weight: bold;">stronger</u> physically & mentally than he ever had <u>possible</u>. Ryan did <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> give up hope, and he was not going to let the Missouri justice system define him. While in prison, he exercised his mind & body <u>daily</u>. Ryan went to the <u>physical</u> extreme & fed his body with <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowledge</u>. For his last 6 years in prison, Ryan even worked as a tutor 3 days/week helping other inmates study for their GED. Helping others is what kept him going. <u>GROWTH</u>. <b><u>NOTHING</u>!</b> stopped him! Whatever he faced, Ryan found a way to become better.<br />
<br />
As a 19-yr-old man in prison for a crime he <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> commit, Ryan faced a <u>very</u> <u>simple</u> choice: <u style="font-weight: bold;">FIGHT</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">OR</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FLIGHT</u>. Truth-telling, Ryan could either try to run & hide from the potential horrors that faced him in prison. Ryan chose to <b><u>SURVIVE</u>!</b> To face his fears. To stand tall, back to the wall and, fight for himself. Ryan chose the latter. <b><i>At a <u>certain</u> point</i>,<i> when does your <u>decision</u> take flight</i>?<i> Get healthy </i>&<i> exercise</i>;<i> <u>or</u> <u>sit</u> <u>there</u>, whine </i>&<i> bitch about weight and ingest </i><u>MOUNDS</u><i> of cheese and fatty foods</i>?</b> That was the decision Ryan had to make. They were life or death. This was about the <u>only</u> choice out of the few he had <u>left</u>. This was something the legal system could <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> take away from him. A SHRED OF DIGNITY! Early on in his incarceration, Ryan decided he was going to <u style="font-weight: bold;">stand</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">his</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ground</u>. He was going to fight. Not just for his sanity or survival, but also areas that could cause him harm. Ryan wanted to walk out of prison <u>still</u> <u>maintaining</u> all his major bodily functions. Ryan was <b><u style="font-style: italic;">SCARED</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">AS</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">ALL</u><i> </i><u style="font-style: italic;">HELL</u>!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6x1pasxvz-hu0piVjrc2qXjK5boRw0xRpm8IS04h-cNjh_l_2oyROykPYf_E4Q5hgt54rzb2Hduu2o5hQwgyhZOb3T6fHRBQ5s8lABxmD2CyjHojjBcHifzjangEtKoAoDYfXldhQYFw/s1600/Fergusons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6x1pasxvz-hu0piVjrc2qXjK5boRw0xRpm8IS04h-cNjh_l_2oyROykPYf_E4Q5hgt54rzb2Hduu2o5hQwgyhZOb3T6fHRBQ5s8lABxmD2CyjHojjBcHifzjangEtKoAoDYfXldhQYFw/s320/Fergusons.jpg" width="320" /></a>Walking through the jail, Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">couldn't</u> show his emotions. If necessary, he'd take an ass-whopping or 2 to let them know he was more trouble than he was worth. He knew wounds would heal and bruises would go away, but once you took your tail & run, the scars from permanent isolation would <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> subside. If he fled, he wouldn't be free. Ryan figured to just take the ass-whopping. He went in and <u style="font-weight: bold;">earned</u> his respect. That was <u style="font-weight: bold;">until</u> Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">got</u> his ass-whooped! Ryan's first call to his father, Bill, was one he'll <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FORGET</u> upon entering the prison population. The advice Bill gave was <u style="font-weight: bold;">truly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">taken</u> to heart. Since your workout options in prison are limited, you <u style="font-weight: bold;">have</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u> make the <u>best</u> of what you've got. At first, Ryan was placed in county jail, which he and his family were <u style="font-weight: bold;">unaware</u>, was <u style="font-weight: bold;">far</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">different</u> from prison. He thought once you were locked up; you're locked up. County jail would be the holding until conviction; <u>then</u> you're placed in prison. <br />
<br />
During Ryan's 19 months in the county lockup, he discovered the <u style="font-weight: bold;">HARSH</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u> of innocent until proven guilty was a mythical farce. County jail was <b><u>pure</u> <u>hell</u>!</b> Ryan was trapped with 7 slightly psychotic men inside a concrete box smaller than people's homes. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">literally</u> stepped foot outside TWICE in his first year. He never missed an opportunity either. The <u>good</u> thing about human beings in that we adapt. For Ryan, he <u style="font-weight: bold;">LITERALLY</u> had <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> choice. The floor became his bench press. The stairs were his pull-up bar. The mat he slept on was his sit-up station and, a plastic coffee jug was his curl bar. A little patch of enclosed concrete he shared with his new friends was not only his living room, kitchen, dining area and bedroom, it was also his gym. For nearly 2 years, this was all Ryan had. <u>Nothing</u> <u>more</u>. <u>Nothing</u> <u>less</u>. He just reminded himself . . . . things could be worse.<br />
<br />
It was Ryan's time in county that he developed his "<i>rudimentary calisthenics</i>" program. He found a way to make it work with what he had. <i>You can still be healthy and in shape <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">matter</u> where you are in life</i>.<i> Whatever your circumstances</i>. Upon entering prison for the first time, Ryan had one goal . . . <b><u>TO</u> <u>GET</u> <u>BIG</u>!</b> County jail is where Ryan spent the first 19 months of his incarceration. From his arrest to his trial. The reason Ryan didn't <u>ever</u> bail out is because he <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> had a legitimate <u>chance</u> to bail out. It also meant no chance to get health/dental help; working to support himself, and having the opportunity to research attorneys, while still being <u style="font-weight: bold;">accused</u>. The standard reason for all of this . . . . the astonishing $20 million bail, by far the <u style="font-weight: bold;">largest</u> of its kind <u>historically</u>, that was Judge Ellen Roper who issued it.<br />
<br />
Going from the county jail to prison is like the difference between community theater and <u style="font-style: italic;">Broadway</u>. The seasoned veterans of the penitentiary game were the <b><u>REAL</u> <u>DEAL</u>!</b> Once inside, you <u style="font-weight: bold;">face</u> the <u style="font-weight: bold;">REALITY</u> of prison life. Your life can be <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u> altered in the blink of an eye. Ryan's <u>first</u> memory of such an event in prison was one he'll <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">FORGET</u>. He described it as the passive form of physical dominance. Ryan seen <u>multiple</u> people get <u style="font-weight: bold;">stabbed</u> over <u>less</u> than $50.00 of bad dope they weren't willing to for + jaws broken over cutting in the chow lunch line. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">worst</u> of it was when Ryan had to listen to a man get the <u style="font-weight: bold;">FUCK</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">beat</u> out of him while screaming for help. They were locked down <u>all</u> <u>day</u> in "<i>the hole</i>" and this duologue was their <u>only</u> form of communication. <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">ONE</u> is <u style="font-weight: bold;">SAFE</u> IN PRISON and <u style="font-weight: bold;">ONLY</u> the <b><u>STRONG</u> <u>SURVIVE</u>!</b> These words applied to Ryan's very existence, his survival and his <u>life</u>. Then it became Ryan's turn.<br />
<br />
Ryan had <u style="font-weight: bold;">NO</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">CHOICE</u> but to <u>fight</u>. It's who he is and who he'll always be. His only problem was . . . . he can't fight. On top of that, these guys weren't only <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIG</u>, but bad and <u style="font-weight: bold;">dangerous</u>. After Ryan caught a glimpse of the <u>weights</u> in prison, he was <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ecstatic</u>. Ryan was small and seen these weights as a ray of <u>hope</u>. No one could help him and the weights offered him <b><u>POWER</u>!</b> Now, he needed to know <i style="text-decoration: underline;">how</i> to use them before time ran out.<br />
<br />
Ryan figured "<i>How difficult could this be</i>?" He was young and athletic, so he figured all he needed to do was hit the gym. He would be in super-tight shape before he knew it. Ryan attempted weight lifting for a month while in college, but . . . . Ryan went to with <u>zero</u> plans of action. He would <u>push</u> himself to excel. As the days & weeks slowly rolled by without too frightening an incident, Ryan enjoyed a few slight gains, but with little result. Therein, Ryan learned the <u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> lesson in weight training; <u style="font-weight: bold;">BRAINS</u><b>!</b> For almost 2 years, Ryan was on lockdown 24hrs/day at the county jail. During this time, Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">educated</u> himself on such things as politics, vocabulary & <u>literature</u> with great success. Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNEW</u> it was time to <u>get</u> smart about his body. So, Ryan decided to <b style="text-decoration: underline;">focus</b> on what he had left - mind & muscle. A decision that <u style="font-weight: bold;">FOREVER</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">altered</u> Ryan's life in numerous ways. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Knowledge</u> is the <u style="color: #f1c232; font-weight: bold;">golden</u> ticket. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Knowledge</u> only becomes <u style="font-weight: bold;">power</u> when it's <b><u>ACTUALLY</u> <u>USED</u>!</b> We can <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALWAYS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">learn</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> and we can <u style="font-weight: bold;">ALWAYS</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">better</u>.<br />
<br />
In the fall of 2005, after almost 2 years of being locked away from his family, it was time for the next stage of Ryan's physical development. Getting big in a hurry. His <u>life</u> depended on it. In prison, it's life or death. One day, Ryan was preparing to go to the gym when he became clear of a CODE <u style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">RED</u> of <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><u>HIGH</u></b> <b><u>ALERT</u></b></span>. Cops were running, lights were flashing, and C.O.'s were yelling for inmates to lock down <b><u>immediately</u>!</b> This lock down was <u style="font-weight: bold;">different</u> from the rest and Ryan didn't know what to make of it. 2 1/2 hours later, with no word of what's going on, everything was fine . . . .sort of. It was 6:30p and Ryan was due to be at work tutoring other inmates. Something he <u>greatly</u> <u>enjoyed</u> volunteering for as it helped others attain their GED's. There was a night where Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">didn't</u> want to go. He didn't want to leave his cell. Things had felt a bit <u>off</u>. Spooky. (<i>In a way where you can <u style="font-weight: bold;">tell</u> something within the atmosphere is off</i>,<i> but you can't pinpoint it</i>.) On Ryan's way at school upon arrival, a <u style="font-weight: bold;">brutal</u> murder had supposedly occurred in the house next to his, <u style="font-style: italic;">Six House</u>. The murderer had beaten his cellmate to near death and stuffed his body under a bunk to die a lonely, terrifying, slow and painful death. Ryan's <u>immediate</u> thought was that it could've been him. <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Scaring</u> him <u>several</u> times it <u><i><b>could've</b></i></u>. <u style="font-style: italic;">Six House</u> was bad, but <u style="font-style: italic;">Seven House</u> was <u style="font-weight: bold;">worse</u>. Toward the end of his imprisonment, Ryan worked <u style="font-weight: bold;">hard</u> to get to <u style="font-style: italic;">Five House</u> and even <u style="font-weight: bold;">harder</u> to <u>stay</u> there.<br />
<br />
Ryan had to endure a yearlong <u style="font-weight: bold;">intense</u> program where his life was essentially under the control of the administrators. They marched, went to classes and group sessions from 5A-9P w/ 5 minutes to shower and follow rules. The living situation hadn't <u>always</u> been at option. Years earlier, Ryan was forced to share a tiny cell in obscenely oppressive housing units with a bizarre mix of random psychopaths; everyone from carjackers-to-robbers-to-merciless killers. The <u style="font-weight: bold;">reality</u> is, as long as you're stuck in prison, you just <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> know what'll happen next. With inmates, Ryan's cell bunkies' environment was peacekeeping. Needless to say, Ryan had to make many frustrating changes. Ryan made adjustments for himself to "<i>not rock the boat</i>". While inside, Ryan's choices were limited/slim. The silver lining to the situation, if there was one, was that Ryan's cellmate worked out hard, and <u style="font-weight: bold;">knowing</u> this helped motivate Ryan do the same. He had to. Ryan seen his best interest was to "<i>keep up</i>". Keeping up his <u><b>dedication</b></u> to fitness. The only help he had was <u>himself</u>.<br />
<br />
Staring in the mirror at his image, all he could think of was the mental image of his <u>skinny</u> physique. So, Ryan ate more. He worked out and hit the books. Ryan came to <u style="font-weight: bold;">realize</u> much of his time spent in the gym was quite useless. His breakthrough when he learned about compound moves.<br />
<br />
When Ryan first arrived at prison, cardio was of little concern to him. He needed size, not health, and running around burning the <u>few</u> calories Ryan could attain was not in his best interest. Early on, Ryan avoided cardio at all costs. Unfortunately, he soon reached a point in prison where Ryan <u>couldn't</u> just keep eating and gaining weight, no matter how much he might've wanted to. His body just couldn't take it any longer. After a few years of navigation through the world, Ryan felt a bit safer from the various predators that lurked, largely due to his increased size and the knowledge he gained from prison experience. At the same time, Ryan was also slower, lazier and lacking the energy <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessary</u> to keep up with the torments of prison life. Ryan <u>had</u> <u>to</u> find a balance. This is where cardio entered his life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMLnYITXraAfRGajmQ2q2Mk49z3Q4gDlLqUFAb3EgQT9mB8CJMvZXDcQnMTSXhbK35PvUF7ONPjp-7iLdQWj6nfirCBONAlMnNCd-TxwrI7l7Z4kaoRkUc2DuRpQuZ2MCn2-qtqDlMTDY/s1600/569d95a7e886d.image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMLnYITXraAfRGajmQ2q2Mk49z3Q4gDlLqUFAb3EgQT9mB8CJMvZXDcQnMTSXhbK35PvUF7ONPjp-7iLdQWj6nfirCBONAlMnNCd-TxwrI7l7Z4kaoRkUc2DuRpQuZ2MCn2-qtqDlMTDY/s200/569d95a7e886d.image.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Fortunately for Ryan, as his waistline grew, so did his reputation. He was big and was generally accepted by the tougher crowd in prison. A blessing. People didn't really know what to think of him. He was focused, educated, quiet & covered in muscle. While he was <u style="font-weight: bold;">grateful</u>, every moment Ryan felt things could go south at any time. He was petrified he'd mess up and Ryan's true, slightly less brave colors would be on full display. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">dreaded</u> what the result would be once this secret was out. Having reached the apex of his accumulation of mass, Ryan realized it was time to begin the process of turning his body into something useful. At this particular point in time, Ryan had an <u style="font-weight: bold;">incredibly</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">important</u> hearing coming up and larger media opportunities were looming.<br />
<br />
While giving interviews is <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> something Ryan enjoys or is really comfortable with, he basically had no choice. As far as he was concerned, since the courts were no longer interested in seeking justice, and these TV shows would provide some level of accountability and bring awareness to the masses. He had to stand up for himself, put himself out there, and beg for people to <u style="font-weight: bold;">look</u> at the <u style="font-weight: bold;">facts</u>. Contrary to popular belief, they <u style="font-weight: bold;">never</u> initiated contact with programs such as <u style="font-style: italic;">48 Hours</u> & <u style="font-style: italic;">Dateline</u>. Although Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">greatly</u> respects these shows; professionalism and their work, their work was outline of what <u><i>they</i></u> were going through. This <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> some interview for fun; this was Ryan's <u style="font-weight: bold;">life</u> he was fighting for.<br />
<br />
So, Ryan ran. The entire time he <u>focused</u> on his <u>survival</u>. He thought about how he would look and come across to a judgmental TV audience. It was these thoughts that <u style="font-weight: bold;">kept</u> Ryan going when he thought of quitting. He began to <u>build</u> little momentum in his training. His stamina <u>improved</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">showing</u> results in exercise. For the first time in his life, Ryan could actually claim to be a runner. Pushing himself and working hard separated him from the herd. Having finally battled and conquered cardio, Ryan felt on top of the world. With all things in place, Ryan was a machine! Then a week before and going into the cold months, Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">severely</u> sprained his ankle in a game of pickup basketball, effectively knocking him out of commission for 4 months. For 3-out-of-4 months, Ryan couldn't even walk. He was crushed. Leaving Ryan to feel <i style="text-decoration: underline;">What If</i>?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_tnZ2MIRAdjhFdXILNTKKecCmeF_w6QY4mEkq3Ex16A3owKn7PAy0Ixik-v8E1LskDnfzZkJ0NCYk3nsUh2V4o0i562vC1CIY095yq4FoC2MV5wEpDJBJ-hGPjr68h4S3IT7dOkiZzLyR/s1600/Stationary-Bike-For-Gym.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_tnZ2MIRAdjhFdXILNTKKecCmeF_w6QY4mEkq3Ex16A3owKn7PAy0Ixik-v8E1LskDnfzZkJ0NCYk3nsUh2V4o0i562vC1CIY095yq4FoC2MV5wEpDJBJ-hGPjr68h4S3IT7dOkiZzLyR/s200/Stationary-Bike-For-Gym.jpg" width="183" /></a>Ryan began to give up thinking it was over. He began to give up. Then he was <u>HIT</u> with inspiration after thinking and using his brain. <i>When one door opens</i>, <i>another one opens</i>. He used his education from training to get back in action. <u>H</u>igh-<u>I</u>ntensity-<u>T</u>raining. Bike riding, jogging; etc. Ryan's <u>favorite</u> is a stationary bike. The more active your lifestyle, the better off you'll be <u>both</u> mentally & physically.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRipuY88attG9q0kbf1EWyxwMfuo2iFrWFMfcocc9MuvuYnDs7W3SYhsIDsOrA19aaB1Sk0LPPC8LdRQDyhQ5M_O9RHEO1FDsRnotfMwKyM8uU0fUK4gemQC0DXsR_n7wb1cqAe1VjFA6/s1600/ramen3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRipuY88attG9q0kbf1EWyxwMfuo2iFrWFMfcocc9MuvuYnDs7W3SYhsIDsOrA19aaB1Sk0LPPC8LdRQDyhQ5M_O9RHEO1FDsRnotfMwKyM8uU0fUK4gemQC0DXsR_n7wb1cqAe1VjFA6/s1600/ramen3.jpg" /></a>Looking back into his life, Ryan was pretty fortunate when it came to his food intake. While his family wasn't too concerned with a "<i>healthy diet</i>" or healthy living, they just lucked into eating a relatively well-balanced diet. His mom insisted on cooking; but the food Ryan grew up on was great and his body was appreciative. Eating out was expensive and Ryan's mom wasn't going for it. <i>Why spend money on something you can get at home</i>? Things changed when Ryan left home for college and his personal diet began to slip. As do many college kids at 18, it's take out and <u style="font-style: italic;">Ramen Noodles</u>. By 19, Ryan began to find a few healthy alternatives and was rapidly learning the hows and whats of enlightened eating habits. Things were coming <u>together</u> and Ryan's body was on track for incredible growth. He was amazed with how much it <u style="font-weight: bold;">changed</u> just with knowledge. <u>Then</u> Ryan's diet had taken a <u style="font-weight: bold;">drastic</u> turn for the worse. His arrest changed the way Ryan would eat in a bad way for the next 10 years.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_QBe9IiRWVz7T2cdYlG6e18RMVyWLUZHsRYKmN9N0tnsgQT9CCDZ-R45F_Hl9F8lsF5X1MbdOmbHsBhy_zFsU2Tbrms5-VrLNd2S3FAYvq9Fl7acGl7hNa2tApkjmM0efJnWF6AY2wS3/s1600/tray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_QBe9IiRWVz7T2cdYlG6e18RMVyWLUZHsRYKmN9N0tnsgQT9CCDZ-R45F_Hl9F8lsF5X1MbdOmbHsBhy_zFsU2Tbrms5-VrLNd2S3FAYvq9Fl7acGl7hNa2tApkjmM0efJnWF6AY2wS3/s200/tray.jpg" width="200" /></a>The meals he <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u> to eat in prison were similar to those given in an elementary school cafeteria. A setting where you <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> get <u>full</u>. As an <u>adult</u>, those were what Ryan had. (<i>Working with what you've got at your disposal</i>) <u>Fortunately</u>, there were occasional bits of relief. The only supplements he could attain was from commissary. Quieting the growl in the empty pit of your stomach. This was how Ryan's life played out for nearly 2 years. While waiting for his <u>eventual</u> trial, Ryan's life was defined by the battle to scrounge up enough food to get by <u>day</u>-<u>to</u>-<u>day</u>. This was a <u>new</u> reality. The most oppressive, life-draining environment Ryan would endure during his <span style="color: red; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">hellish</span> 10 years in the Missouri judicial system. <u style="font-weight: bold;">No</u> choices, <u style="font-weight: bold;">no</u> options. <b><u>NOTHING</u>!</b><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEink6XB4W6pSOEb0C9vrEwD19cpcbO0kuaJjKAKWwWtVzPrfpmPQ566zHx2B1oCtlJ4rSYxjgPokMWbxz45UnjMeQPxC1uoRtmZB-Zw3pNxrwOPLjFQcCd8QzDFrsP0kerCu2ml6a-_8RPt/s1600/erinandryan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEink6XB4W6pSOEb0C9vrEwD19cpcbO0kuaJjKAKWwWtVzPrfpmPQ566zHx2B1oCtlJ4rSYxjgPokMWbxz45UnjMeQPxC1uoRtmZB-Zw3pNxrwOPLjFQcCd8QzDFrsP0kerCu2ml6a-_8RPt/s1600/erinandryan.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan & <i><u>48 Hours</u></i>' Erin Moriarty</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The <u>first</u> opportunity Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">had</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">to</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">buy</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u> food in nearly 2 years after leaving county jail and entering the prison system was one Ryan will <b><u>NEVER</u> <u>FORGET</u>!</b> It was on Tuesday, December 10TH. He had arrived at the prison diagnostic center with <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> a penny to his name. He was told that the commissary would be open on Thursday morning. You were only able to go <u>once</u> <u>a</u> <u>week</u>. If you missed it, you were screwed for a week and had to suffer. Luckily, someone let Ryan use their phone time and he called his dad, Bill. While things don't happen overnight, Bill sent his son money <b><u>IMMEDIATELY</u>!</b> A <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u> Ryan would <u style="font-weight: bold;">NEVER</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">FORGET</u> this <u>quick</u> response. 36 hours later and it was his housing unit's turn for the trip. Coincidentally, and unbeknownst to Ryan, <u style="font-style: italic;">CBS</u><i>' </i><u style="font-style: italic;">48 Hours</u> had showed up <u>at</u> <u>the</u> <u>same</u> <u>time</u>. He <u style="font-weight: bold;">wasn't</u> ready. While Erin Moriarty and the <u style="font-style: italic;">48 Hours</u> team were Ryan's <u>only</u> help and he is <u style="font-weight: bold;">GRATEFUL</u>, he couldn't be of use to them unless he helped himself <u>first</u>. Thankfully, it <u>all</u> came together.<br />
<br />
Ryan's cellmate gave him a razor. He had <u style="font-weight: bold;">exactly</u> 5 minutes to do his business where he promptly cut his lip, then he was on his way. He would be able to go back to commissary after his interview, which Ryan found out he had as much money as he came in with. Not the start Ryan was hoping for. After the interview was over, it occurred to Ryan to check is account one last time. At first, the C.O. was reluctant to check, but after a seemingly endless wait for the technological screen refresh updates, Ryan had up to $200 in his account! After going <u>without</u> for <u style="font-weight: bold;">so</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">long</u>, Ryan couldn't help but splurge.<br />
<br />
After being deprived for so long and taking <b><u>FULL</u></b> advantage with donuts, coffee, cigarettes, soups & a summer sausage; needless to say, Ryan ate like a fiend, smoked & drank coffee for 3 days <u>STRAIGHT</u>! For the next couple of years, that's how Ryan ate. To worsen matters, Ryan accelerated this <u><b>un</b></u>healthy diet in the <u>misguided</u> hope that, along w/ rigorous workouts, he might become large enough to scare away potential predators. Along the way, Ryan's <u>continued</u> reading & education <u>taught</u> him he <u style="font-weight: bold;">HAD</u> to get his diet <u>back</u> <u>on</u> <u>track</u>. As his thinking began to shift and <u>choosing</u> to be big & <u>lean</u>, Ryan had to <u style="font-weight: bold;">reeducate</u> himself and get health conscious. Not knowing where to start, Ryan <u>began</u> by <u style="font-weight: bold;">learning</u> about nutrition labels on the back of typical everyday products. The more he read, the more he learned and Ryan's <u>whole</u> diet quickly shifted. Changing his own diet had a <u style="font-weight: bold;">profound</u> effect on his body and truly separated him from the herd. In less than a year, Ryan was more shredded and had built <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">more</u> mass that even the <u style="font-weight: bold;">BIGGEST</u> bad asses began going to Ryan for pointers.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV01vzBY-OA3jtqXrAHZXXQdE7lkGTSrLJS6vJjS-HKaH6QUniFDCZPCFTZyOSivk-oRUWCUjAePaL7psDJGt10rCcwyeBRDkMvXFYn4mBieWnBBvwCXGgZu7PL-Zk7YbggelSGcygzxKC/s1600/boost.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV01vzBY-OA3jtqXrAHZXXQdE7lkGTSrLJS6vJjS-HKaH6QUniFDCZPCFTZyOSivk-oRUWCUjAePaL7psDJGt10rCcwyeBRDkMvXFYn4mBieWnBBvwCXGgZu7PL-Zk7YbggelSGcygzxKC/s1600/boost.png" /></a>When you're in prison, you lack <u style="font-weight: bold;">many</u> essential nutrients and suffer from a <b><u>severe</u></b> lack of protein. Since <u>rest</u> periods in prison were <u>un</u>available, Ryan often found himself sleeping up to 15hrs a day. Ryan spent many of his waking hours reading, playing chess, or catching up on the news, and, <u>obviously</u>, working out. But, even exercise <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> challenging at times. When you live in an oppressive cage devoid of sunlight, nutrition or even an adequate supply of clean clothes, it can be hard to scrounge up the <u style="font-weight: bold;">necessary</u> motivation to hit the weights. Nonetheless, as Ryan's workouts progressed, along with his exercise education, so did Ryan's <u>understanding</u> of the human body. Rest in of itself is <u style="font-weight: bold;">ESSENTIAL</u> for your body & muscles to <u style="font-weight: bold;">recover</u>. His first foray in the world of supplements was in 2006. After being formally introduced to penitentiary workouts, Ryan soon realized that if his efforts were breaking down on his muscles, protein was <u>essential</u> in <u>building</u> them <u>back</u> <u>up</u>. Ryan had to embark on a journey to find his own protein source: <u>BEEF</u>! It was available in prison, it had the protein for what he found valuable. It was also a good excuse to spend money on something Ryan would've otherwise considered a luxury. After 2 years of this taking a toll on Ryan's body; Ryan packed on muscle.<br />
<br />
Ryan is someone who <u style="font-weight: bold;">is</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">has</u> and <u style="font-weight: bold;">always</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">will</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">be</u> on the move. As a kid, he loved recess and couldn't wait to go out and play. The <u>minute</u> those doors opened, Ryan was gone like a <u style="font-style: italic;">shot</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">ANY</u> sport; you name it. Ryan was game. Sitting on the sidelines with the "<i>cool</i>" kids made him feel out of place. Ryan seen those who had the best and they didn't do anything w/ it. They would talk to girls. Ryan didn't have time; due to being <u>on</u> <u>the</u> <u>move</u>. <u>Unfortunately</u>, being in prison kind of took him back to his school days, and not in a good way. At school, Ryan often couldn't wait for the doors to open between classes. In prison, he often found himself waiting for the doors to open, but to a <u style="font-weight: bold;">less</u> inviting world. When you're out on the yard/recess, it's <u style="font-weight: bold;">essential</u> to keep moving. If you're listless and lazy in prison, it's <u style="font-weight: bold;">CERTAIN</u> that the predators will <u>eventually</u> make your acquaintance. <u>Not</u> good. You could become another lost, helpless victim. You could help; but that <u><b>doesn't</b></u> work. Ryan decided to stay in perpetual motion. He felt like a child playing peekaboo. It worked for Ryan <i>most</i> of the time.<br />
<br />
Since he didn't hide and rarely hung out in groups, Ryan was viewed very much as an individual as his own man. Being who he wanted to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">proved</u> to be both a blessing and a curse. After awhile, people had gotten the message. You're overlooked as the miles of chain-linked fence that surrounded the prison. As the years played, Ryan just kept on moving and never <u>stopped</u>. People <u style="font-weight: bold;">knew</u> Ryan didn't like to be bothered, and if anyone wanted to talk, they had to keep up the pace with Ryan. He had to <u>keep</u> <u>moving</u>. It was a survival tactic; but it also helped his physical lifestyle. <i>2 birds. 1 stone</i>. Whether you're in prison or outside in the world, you just keep moving. In fact, <u>most</u> of <u>this</u> book was written standing up! He wrote most of his first draft while still in prison and 90% of it was written while standing by his book. It got him off his ass and made it easier for him to pace a few steps every now & then. <u>Continuous</u> movement is <u style="font-weight: bold;">essential</u> in our lives. <b><u>GET</u> <u>UP</u> <u>&</u> <u>KEEP</u> <u>MOVING</u>!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
As Ryan would fight to achieve a body that would help keep him safe & alive during his near decade in prison, it was his last 2 years of incarceration that would <u style="font-weight: bold;">prove</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">most</u> productive. He did develop a rock-solid foundation and through education, slowly became aware of his time and energies were best spent on. What took Ryan was <u>believing</u> <u>in</u> <u>himself</u> and the program he developed. Committing to consistency. Leaving his preconceived notions at the door had given Ryan a wide range of ideas, methods & philosophies that have <u style="font-weight: bold;">improved</u> his quality of life as well as made his training significantly more efficient. <u style="font-weight: bold;">Research</u> and doing homework. Looking into this phenomenon, Ryan learned about up-and-coming into the sport of bodybuilding. Needless to say, it amazed him of the <u style="font-weight: bold;">YEARS</u> of dedication, <u>patience</u> & understanding. After 2 years of consistency, Ryan is feeling better about himself than he ever has before. He became and is a <u>NEW</u> man because of one small change. He <b><u>SHOWED</u> <u>UP</u>!</b> He is in his plan to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">CONSISTENT</u>. <u style="font-weight: bold;">DO</u> the <b><u>WORK</u>!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Life in prison for Ryan was a series of "<i>highs</i>" if you can call them that and "<i>lows</i>" affecting his mental state on a daily basis. Of his relatively 3 decades at this time on Earth, moments of inaction are the only ones Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">REGRETS</u>! Boiling down to points of insecurity. Once he changed how he felt about the <u style="font-style: italic;">possibilities</u> of not succeeding on his <u>first</u> try, Ryan's life changed! The last 10 years of Ryan's life have been in many ways a nightmare. But, he can <u style="font-weight: bold;">CONFIDENTLY</u> take with him the <u style="font-weight: bold;">KNOWLEDGE</u> that he left prison stronger, faster & stronger than he <u style="font-weight: bold;">ever</u> <u>dreamed</u>. <u>He</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">made</u> that happen. Ryan <u style="font-weight: bold;">WILLED</u> himself into <b><u>EXISTENCE</u>!</b> Once you taste SUCCESS. apply those skills in other areas of your life and keep going. <b><i>Believe in yourself and take action</i>!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
While the scars from his past are <u>fresher</u> & <u style="font-weight: bold;">deeper</u> than he is able to contemplate, Ryan still <u style="font-weight: bold;">does</u> and feels he has <u style="font-weight: bold;">much</u> to offer the world. He is <u style="font-weight: bold;">NOT</u> a number. He is Ryan William Ferguson. A man <u style="font-weight: bold;">DETERMINED</u> to leave this world <u style="font-weight: bold;">BETTER</u> than he came into it. Through <u style="font-weight: bold;">AWARENESS</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">EDUCATION</u>, <u style="font-weight: bold;">all</u> things are possible.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3906QylcP27oq8CZXvS07rInAq3SRdFf700d02XR3x30FP62Muy44PAcXoEzIAy2mXkParYMCP4AzGbuqRKj115A_gJinNuFrJMrfdtbsta4mm3wlBngbcXJ4gB9L8oHmv3Gdaq4Cebf6/s1600/unlocking+the+truth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3906QylcP27oq8CZXvS07rInAq3SRdFf700d02XR3x30FP62Muy44PAcXoEzIAy2mXkParYMCP4AzGbuqRKj115A_gJinNuFrJMrfdtbsta4mm3wlBngbcXJ4gB9L8oHmv3Gdaq4Cebf6/s320/unlocking+the+truth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
As of this book's publication, Ryan has ventured onto a <u>NEW</u> project that helps inmates in similar situations that he's previously been in and paying it forward by helping <u style="font-weight: bold;">wrongfully</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">convicted</u> inmates <u style="font-weight: bold;">PROVE</u> their <u style="font-weight: bold;">INNOCENCE</u>, along with law student at the time, Eva Naggaro, on the <u>MTV</u> <u style="font-weight: bold;">REAL</u>ity Docu-series; <u style="font-style: italic;">Unlocking The Truth</u>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1653023237202821998.post-9343564583675480652016-12-31T23:45:00.000-08:002017-01-01T10:39:50.102-08:00End Of 2016To those whom read, follow or check out my blog, I just wanted to send out a thank you for what you've read and/or commented on. It is <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">VALUED</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">&</u><b> </b><u style="font-weight: bold;">APPRECIATED</u>! I just wanted to say that this 2016 year hasn't always been the best, but I have tried to keep up the basis of books that I hope others view exciting as well. I hope those that do read and/or follow my blog will continue to check this out within this new 2017 year and I will concede to educate with stories and lives of people whom have influenced me as I hope they influence you.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thank You for checking out and/or following this blog. More <b style="text-decoration: underline;">will</b> be shown and read soon. Hope you will check this out for the new year.<br />
<br />
I would like to dedicate this year's blog in <u style="font-weight: bold;">HONOR</u> of 2 <u style="font-weight: bold;">LEGENDS</u>. Ones that have <u style="font-weight: bold;">TRULY</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> <u>enriched</u> <u>&</u></span> <u style="font-weight: bold;">influenced</u> my life. Thank You to these <b><u>ICONS</u> </b>in more ways than one.<br />
<br />
<br />
In the <b style="text-decoration: underline;">Honors</b> Of <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Carrie Frances Fisher and </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> her beloved mother, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mary Francis</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Debbie" Reynolds</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB9MxhsUOGAqtAtwkkcjXFlTRZU9gnNMUUZ71BiWCva1MIiHnACWzQ2BD1yoOpTLgy803XdjQ0-GuEZSH3P8uVqPOPt3O6y9XkA-n22l2uCbsuughntNfT5DtfUgh_S5u3D8cei0d8NXW/s1600/carrie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnB9MxhsUOGAqtAtwkkcjXFlTRZU9gnNMUUZ71BiWCva1MIiHnACWzQ2BD1yoOpTLgy803XdjQ0-GuEZSH3P8uVqPOPt3O6y9XkA-n22l2uCbsuughntNfT5DtfUgh_S5u3D8cei0d8NXW/s320/carrie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Q7nr9GtglqpAHrXblxb2dyhNrhLVyx70U4yf01-jdK2qNTC2D6oyVj4zt2kRmszpeA7ETFR4-tFc5HrJ7dJ2CcjuJojrAtnyLeG0aGTxhMsNUTKNoMww5RLj6JNVEKiG3_yo6YmI_HY8/s1600/debbiereynolds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Q7nr9GtglqpAHrXblxb2dyhNrhLVyx70U4yf01-jdK2qNTC2D6oyVj4zt2kRmszpeA7ETFR4-tFc5HrJ7dJ2CcjuJojrAtnyLeG0aGTxhMsNUTKNoMww5RLj6JNVEKiG3_yo6YmI_HY8/s320/debbiereynolds.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Mary Francis "Debbie" Reynolds</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
1932-2016 </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdQda7UQ23FPag5f9Qs-8zPWjhEE8S_7D1sqzNreDRfBddGuOpyg4qfcUow2h_zed2R0ND91xjkVUr-P_Dsacdqc-xiArQCn_HVOwHfOCZX5G-Yq7dK-jMmJauB1PuQ1SE1_tWJ3Rfaet/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLdQda7UQ23FPag5f9Qs-8zPWjhEE8S_7D1sqzNreDRfBddGuOpyg4qfcUow2h_zed2R0ND91xjkVUr-P_Dsacdqc-xiArQCn_HVOwHfOCZX5G-Yq7dK-jMmJauB1PuQ1SE1_tWJ3Rfaet/s400/image.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
</div>
Jeremyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17458776687474663182noreply@blogger.com0