Chaotic Coffee Klatch (tea also available)

It's a funny thing, isn't it, when you have no innate filter for normal? I mean, I grew up in an entirely different way, but it has taken me a long time to be able to view things, particularly interaction with other humans things, through a lens that was closer to, I don't know, average. Those filters and such are sure as hell not an innate thing, and it's challenging as hell when you learn them all wrong. :heart:
They definitely are not something people are born with, maybe if my upbringing had of been different they might have developed with normal people around but alas that's never to be known.
The funny thing is I never ever questioned myself before him I just did what my brain thought of as correct and probably would have kept on that path.
It is challenging as hell especially when those filters clash with what both your gut and your head tell you to do. ❤️
 
Well in all fairness, any problems we may have had in college were totally legit problems at the time! And now that we overcame them life gives us bigger and harder problems. Just like school. The school of life.
I was pretty coddled when I was younger and it did me NO favors going forward. But it was done out of love and adoration 😁

Now your student-!well all I can say is 🤦🏻‍♀️
Lol

They are legit problems. They're just mostly legit problems that you're going to have to figure out how to deal with and still do work, because that's going to be the rest of your life.

Wow, I am the voice of stern gloom and doom tonight, aren't I? :ROFLMAO:

I think that with this, it's really just that a lot of students were both served very badly during the pandemic AND have learned that complaining about how hard it is to study at home or whatever will buy them a Get Out of Jail Free card. It's just not doing anyone any life favors. Even though I teach a class that I think is actually important to people's lives, or should be, it's mostly that life is about making yourself do things that you don't always want to do. Whether we call that school or work. (Or in my case, both!)
 
Legit though, biggest problem I had in college was I had no idea how to study. I was straight A’s all through high school in the honors classes and never cracked a book. College was a different level though since I originally went for professional pilot, there wasn’t a lot that transferred over from high school. And it took me awhile to realize that I needed to, and to learn how to study.
My daughter said that's one thing she saw among her friends in college. No good study habits or time management.

Once mine were in 10th grade, I started teaching them the way they would need to learn in college. I made them accountable for their work each week instead of daily like we did in lower grades. It also helped that in 11th and 12th grade they were dual-enrolled in homeschool and college. It got their feet wet.
 
Thank you, sooo much

@SinfulDreams (for some reason lit never let's me tag you)
I told my husband your other story and asked if two men tried to kill us, would he fight both men or would he believe in me and let me handle one of them on my own?

The mfkr said neither. He's not going to fight when the universe is trying to help him get rid of me

On an unrelated note, anyone have a shovel I can borrow?

I've got a shovel, knife, baseball bat and some pliers in a bag ready to go. You just say when and where 😉
 
They definitely are not something people are born with, maybe if my upbringing had of been different they might have developed with normal people around but alas that's never to be known.
The funny thing is I never ever questioned myself before him I just did what my brain thought of as correct and probably would have kept on that path.
It is challenging as hell especially when those filters clash with what both your gut and your head tell you to do. ❤️

No, you never question it. Because it's your normal. My second husband had one of the most abusive childhoods that I've ever heard about, and he'd still turn to me and say, but that's what everyone's life is like, isn't it?
 
My daughter said that's one thing she saw among her friends in college. No good study habits or time management.

Once mine were in 10th grade, I started teaching them the way they would need to learn in college. I made them accountable for their work each week instead of daily like we did in lower grades. It also helped that in 11th and 12th grade they were dual-enrolled in homeschool and college. It got their feet wet.
It wasn’t my feet I was trying to get wet in college. 😂

Something like that really would have been helpful though. I realized a lot of it had to do with my time management also. I had classes 4 days a week, flying at least 3 days a week, worked one job 3 days during the week and a 2nd job at least 20 hours every weekend. It just got to be too much for me to be able to focus on school so dropped the weekend job.
 
They are legit problems. They're just mostly legit problems that you're going to have to figure out how to deal with and still do work, because that's going to be the rest of your life.

Wow, I am the voice of stern gloom and doom tonight, aren't I? :ROFLMAO:

I think that with this, it's really just that a lot of students were both served very badly during the pandemic AND have learned that complaining about how hard it is to study at home or whatever will buy them a Get Out of Jail Free card. It's just not doing anyone any life favors. Even though I teach a class that I think is actually important to people's lives, or should be, it's mostly that life is about making yourself do things that you don't always want to do. Whether we call that school or work. (Or in my case, both!)
Handing down life lessons tonight Mika baby!!! All true shit. Shits legit. Almost too legit to quit (hey heyyy)

Kennel Nebs. Now
 
Legit though, biggest problem I had in college was I had no idea how to study. I was straight A’s all through high school in the honors classes and never cracked a book. College was a different level though since I originally went for professional pilot, there wasn’t a lot that transferred over from high school. And it took me awhile to realize that I needed to, and to learn how to study.
I get this totally.

I'm a really quick study, and so for most of my undergrad days, I could get Bs without doing really anything. And As with tiny effort. And then I got to grad school, and I had to study and I had absolutely no idea how to, and it was a hell of a shock.

I try to talk to my students about how to study, but either they want to figure it out or they don't.
 
It wasn’t my feet I was trying to get wet in college. 😂

Something like that really would have been helpful though. I realized a lot of it had to do with my time management also. I had classes 4 days a week, flying at least 3 days a week, worked one job 3 days during the week and a 2nd job at least 20 hours every weekend. It just got to be too much for me to be able to focus on school so dropped the weekend job.
At least you had more time on the weekends to get your...feet...wet
 
It's a fine line to walk.. but then the kinky dare devil in me always wins out and I end up doing it anyways
I have always looked at the reward of the experience, including the memory, the story, checking it off the bucket list, compared the the risks, the odds of the risks, and how to mitigate those. Many think I am a bit of a daredevil, but the reality is the odds are greatly in my favor, I stack the odds when I can, and I am confident I can deal with things when they go sideways. I am a cocky fucker I guess lol.
 
I get this totally.

I'm a really quick study, and so for most of my undergrad days, I could get Bs without doing really anything. And As with tiny effort. And then I got to grad school, and I had to study and I had absolutely no idea how to, and it was a hell of a shock.

I try to talk to my students about how to study, but either they want to figure it out or they don't.
It definitely is a real problem. That’s part of the downside of high school, even in honors classes, it can be too easy and not challenge people they way they need to be to prepare them.
 
No, you never question it. Because it's your normal. My second husband had one of the most abusive childhoods that I've ever heard about, and he'd still turn to me and say, but that's what everyone's life is like, isn't it?
It still amazes me to see normal families, my stepson his wife and my grandbabies being the main ones. Sure they have their issues but those issue seem so tiny to what I've seen.
My grandbabies always smile and laugh and I find myself just sitting there sometimes just watching them hoping with my whole heart they never have to see or do half the shit I had to.
 
So I know some of you might have read some of my works and this story might sound a little familiar.

This is the true story of meeting M.

**************************

The toilet block that had been my home for the last two weeks no longer the answer for shelter. Someone locked the flimsy door from the outside, a brand new bracket and shinny padlock hanging from the only place I had found to fight off the bone deep chill of mid winter on the streets.

I slowly stumbled my way across the park in the dark, the ground cracking under my warn out shoes, sludge seeping inside the holes turning my feet to ice. My chest rasping with every tiny breath I took, stopping to hack with a body shaking cough every few steps.

This winter felt so much worse than last year at least last year I could drop into the shelter and get hot food. I can't go anymore, my body is to curvy now, I look like a young woman not a boy. It's already hard enough to keep the predators away that aren't homeless and don't have the time to do anything but follow me. I need to find some where safe and dry that nobody will ever look for me.

I know the first place I'm going to check I've been scouting it out for a few weeks, its a club but it doesn't look like a normal club. The clientele is a mix of all sorts but all with money. The women all pretty in high high heels wearing long overcoats that don't quite hide the collars around their necks or the leather and lace outfits underneath. The men all dressed in suits carrying packs and bags stuff full of god only knows what. They go in and don't come out for hours. The security team is the either really relaxed on the outside of the building or the inside needs them more, the only time I've seen them out in the cold is when the doors first open for 30mins letting patrons in and the 30mins letting them out.


I sigh as I make it to the street corner, stumbling my way down the road the club is only a couple of blocks away in a rundown industrial area. Far enough away from occupied buildings nobody should bother me if I take my time around the back. I sneak my way down the road as best as I can sticking to the shadows lining the same side as the club, stopping to prop myself up against a wall as it comes into my line of sight. My eyes welling up at the idea of being warm for the first time in I can't remember how long.

I shake off the lethargy pulling at me, squeezing my hands together to pull feeling back into my fingers as I slide my way around the back of the building my eyes scanning for any signs of life. This side of the building has the only windows tucked under the outside fire escape. I know the lowest floor window is sealed shut because I've already tried it a few times, but the one on the second story I managed to get open a crack last time, wide enough to slip my fingers through.

I swing my back pack up higher on my shoulders and shakily make my way up to the second floor window, clutching the rail with frozen fingers. I duck down behind the window my face pressed up against the glass, scanning the small portion of what I can see. Just a alcove under the interal stairs, packed with bags, boxes and office equipment. It looks like heaven to me.
I start to arrange it all in my head, pulling and moving the furniture to create a barrier, stacking all the bags at the back to make a bed. Yes this will do nicely.

Smiling to myself I drop my bag and open the bottom compartment pulling out my rusty but functional knife and sliding it under the window trim working the latch back and forth until it pops out of place. Now comes the tricky part leavering the window out far enough to have something to pull on, I don't want to break my knife.
I wiggle the blade under the window further pushing it all the way in until the hilt is the only thing sticking out and push down on it. I use my whole body weight behind it as slight as it is, it's enough to hear the old hinges on the window squeak as it pops out a few inches. I pull my knife back out and drop it on top of my bag my lips cracking with the smile beaming on my face.

Bracing my foot under the sill against the wall I wrap both my hands under the edge of the window and yank up, pulling with all my might as it slowly starts to move, the hinges squeaking horribly, so loud that if the music wasn't playing as loud as it was inside I was sure I'd get caught by anyone in this side of the building. The heat pouring out of the window feels hot enough to burn my frozen skin, hot enough to defrost my hands.

The gap almost big enough for me to squeeze in when the window stops moving jammed in place. I scream in my head, no I was so close, so damn fucking close. I try again yanking uselessly at the window hard and fast until my now defrosted hands slip on the metal as the window pops all the way open and I fly backwards and my head striking the rail. (you know how they say in books you see sparks and light when you hit your head? Trust me you do.)
I lay stunned my head pounding, my vision blurry my face as numb as my head is pounding. The cold metal of the fire escape eating into my back and legs. I slowly roll to my side my stomach heaving with the movement. I crawl to my bag tossing it in the gap, my hand probing the back of my head coming away with congelled chunks of blood and ice and clumps of filthy hair.

I shrug its not the first time I've bled and it won't be the last in my life, shaking off the dizziness as best I can I heave myself inside and stumble to my feet using my full weight to pull the window closed again moving it a lot easier now then before, wiggling the latch into place.
I scramble crawl my way behind a office desk, to blurry to arrange anything tonight I sit will my back pressed up against the wall as my vision spins, my sight dipping in and out to match the pain rolling across the back of my head until darkness finally takes me.


This next part I'm not so sure on a time line to give you as I was passed out it could have been hours or it could have been minutes.

"Boss, check this out there's blood all over the window." The hard dark voice has me jerking in place my eyes popping open as the room rolling as my stomach heaves with the movement.

"Shit, where the fuck did that come from?" The soft silky voice has my insides shuddering.

I try and sling further back into the dark my shoes scuffle on the floor and I freeze, my breath panting out my heart pounding as my vision waves in and out. I shut my eyes I'm passed caring if they find me now then that's it, I'm done and I just don't care anymore.

"Hello, hello can you look at me. Where are you hurt?" My eyes pop open to see a angel kneeling in front of me, white blonde hair and the palest blue eyes I have ever seen, a white blonde beard and a flash of perfect white teeth.

I must really be out of it because girls like me don't get angels they get devils when they die.

My breath stutters as I see his hands reach towards me, I'm frozen stiff even if this is the warmest I have ever felt. His hands grab my shoulder pulling me out of my hide away and half carrying me out from under the stairs to the light in the small hallway, propping my back up against the wall.

"Shit is that a chick?" The gravely voice has me looking up and up and up into a harsh dark face, the polar opposite of my angel. Jet black hair, half his face covered in tattoos and his eyes bled murder and agony.

Self preservation even in my current state has me flinching away from him hiding closer to the angel.

"Yes it is a girl, a pretty one under all that filthy and blood I'm assuming. Now the question is what are you doing bleeding all over my club?" The angel cocks his brow looking down at me, my heart flutters at the kindness I see in his face, his waiting for some kind of response from me that he will never get. I never talk, for the last 2 years not one word had slipped passed my lips. Better to stay silent in the shadows than to draw attention to myself.

I shake my head still staring in his eyes, my vision fogging with the movement as my body starts to slide sideways down the wall, leaving a streak of blood and dirt down the wall. Strong hands catching me before I fall on my face.

"Want me to get rid of her?" The hard voice growls again.

"I've got it Seth you go finish off stock take."

A hand reaches up and tilts my head upwards my eyes latch on to his as darkness creeps into the corner of my vision and I'm out again.

I come to feeling my body being carried down the hallway, I kick my legs and scream, thrashing my body and making him stumble.

"Hold still you silly little twat. I'm trying to help you." Its that smooth voice again and I instantly still. Why does he make me feel safe when I've never felt safe before?

Obviously that's not all of the story a lot more happened after this but its the best place to end it for now.
This is simply beautiful. Lit won't accept true life stories, but I can see you creating fictional characters to carry your story into something wonderful that thousands of Lit readers would LOVE.
 
I have always looked at the reward of the experience, including the memory, the story, checking it off the bucket list, compared the the risks, the odds of the risks, and how to mitigate those. Many think I am a bit of a daredevil, but the reality is the odds are greatly in my favor, I stack the odds when I can, and I am confident I can deal with things when they go sideways. I am a cocky fucker I guess lol.
I completely get this. A lot of times it’s just me saying screw it cause I’d rather have the experience than not. Life is more fun that way….at least for me.
 
I have always looked at the reward of the experience, including the memory, the story, checking it off the bucket list, compared the the risks, the odds of the risks, and how to mitigate those. Many think I am a bit of a daredevil, but the reality is the odds are greatly in my favor, I stack the odds when I can, and I am confident I can deal with things when they go sideways. I am a cocky fucker I guess lol.
Are you a Leo ♌
 
It still amazes me to see normal families, my stepson his wife and my grandbabies being the main ones. Sure they have their issues but those issue seem so tiny to what I've seen.
My grandbabies always smile and laugh and I find myself just sitting there sometimes just watching them hoping with my whole heart they never have to see or do half the shit I had to.

My family was really fucked up. All their relationships with each other, what they taught us about how to treat family, all kinds of shit, not important. But to this day I always feel like I'm pressing my nose up against the glass, peering in the window to look at "normal" families. My best friend has a relentlessly normal family who some pretty shit things have happened to, and she's probably the main reason that I know that families should be nice to each other, and that shit happens, and you support each other through it, etc. Those things will never seem "normal" to me. Like, my son, we have the best relationship, we enjoy spending time together, but at the same time, on some level, my brain goes, why do you want to spend any time with your mother?
 
I have always looked at the reward of the experience, including the memory, the story, checking it off the bucket list, compared the the risks, the odds of the risks, and how to mitigate those. Many think I am a bit of a daredevil, but the reality is the odds are greatly in my favor, I stack the odds when I can, and I am confident I can deal with things when they go sideways. I am a cocky fucker I guess lol.
My kinks run pretty dark so I usually used step one in my "emotional plan" to evaluate. Usually I went ahead and done it anyways not always in the safest way possible but yeah the experience was always worth it even the ones that didn't turn out right.
 
This is simply beautiful. Lit won't accept true life stories, but I can see you creating fictional characters to carry your story into something wonderful that thousands of Lit readers would LOVE.
There is actually a version of it up on Lit called To be Loved. A few minor changes to M being a lot more volatile than he ever was and to me being a lot more placid than I have ever been. I run out of steam with it as it just didn't feel true and right
 
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