Semester 1 Quotes

I was losing her, she wouldn’t listen to me, and I was about to fail my third quiz of the semester. Great. By the way, can you simplify 7x – 2(4x – 6)? I knew she could. She was already in Trig. What does that have to do with anything? Nothing. But I’m failing this quiz. She sighed. A Caster girlfriend had some perks.

Don't you have class today? (Kyrian) Boy, I'm a backwoods Cajun, I ain't never got no class, cher. (Nick) (He cleared his throat and dropped the thick Cajun accent.) And no, today's registration. I've got to figure out what I'm taking next semester. (Nick) I have a few things I need you to do today. (Kyrian) And that is different from any other day how? (Nick) Sarcasm, thy name is Nick Gautier. (Kyrian)

Dante laughed. "No cold soup, no goat cheese. I'll make a mental note. And no Gottfried Curse." "And for you it's no food at all. No sleep. And no tunnels." "I'm low maintenance." "Is that what you are? Because I've been trying to figure it out all semester." "And what have you concluded?" "A mutant. A rare disease. A creature from the inferno. Dante." "And what if you found out you were right?" he asked. "What if it meant that I could hurt you?" "I would say that I'm not scared. Everyone has the ability to hurt. It's the choice that matters.

You can not drop astronomy. To get through this semester, I must live vicariously through you and hear about Cam at least three days a week." "I'm not going to drop the class-" Even though I sort of wanted to. "-But I doubt I'm going to have anything to tell you. It's not like we're even going to talk again." Jacob let go of my arm and sat back, eyeing me. "Famous last words, Avery.

Rewriting a peace treaty," he said. "Semester project." Talk about a thrill-a-minute. "Why are we moving the desks?" He snorted. "Who the hell knows. He probably read about this in a teachers' magazine.

At the beginning of the semester, when you asked who I loved the most, an image of my mother popped in my head. When you asked me who I loved the most for the second time, it wasn’t an image of my mother. Instead, it was replaced by an image of a strawberry blonde with big, blue eyes. It took me a long time to figure out the exact moment I fell in love with her, partly because I denied that I did until it was too late. I fucked up so badly and did so many things wrong, to the point of no return, so I let her go. The selfless part inside of me wants to say I did the right thing, and the selfish part of me thinks I made the biggest mistake of my life. I guess the selfless side won out because, every time I look at her and see what I did, I realize I don’t deserve her. I was never supposed to fall in love with her, but that was the best mistake of my life. I will always love her; I have ever since I purposely bumped into her in the hallway.

Because you scratched my itch and then you kissed me—both of which freaked me out because neither of which are in the course syllabus for laboratory experiments this semester. And, furthermore—

I want to spend your last semester getting you out of those fucking pearls and on all fours. Close your mouth, Elle, because there’s one more thing I want.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres! ~Lucian Bane~

Years ago, when I was working on my master's thesis, I went to New York for a semester as an exchange student. What struck me most was the sky. On that side of the world, so far away from the North Pole, the sky is flat and gray, a one-dimensional universe. Here, the sky is arched, and there's almost no pollution. In spring and fall the sky is dark blue or violet, and sunsets last for hours. The sun turns into a dim orange ball that transforms clouds into silver-rimmed red and violet towers. In winter, twenty-four hours a day, uncountable stars outline the vaulted ceiling of the great cathedral we live in. Finnish skies are the reason I believe in God.

He looked at her, amazed with her sudden nerves. “Sweetheart… marrying was never on any list of mine.” He reached for her hand and held it tightly in his. “But marrying you… now that’s something different.

His head was mixed up, and fall semester was going to be needlessly rough if he didn’t get a few things in order first. Nicola would have to speak up, Jacob would have to shut up, and he would have to man up.

Life bends us, shapes us, molds us, makes us, and breaks us." ~Lucian Bane~

It's no problem." He picked up a slip of paper and then glanced up. "Astronomy 101? I'm heading that way too." Great. For the whole semester I'd have to see the guy I nearly killed in the hallway.

Nothing great comes easy. Nothing amazing comes without hard work. And that is especially true with marriages.

You just know this is going to be bad," Susan said. "—but when I went to college," Harry continued, throwing a piece of bread at Susan, "if your roommate died, you were usually allowed to skip your finals for that semester. You know, because of the trauma." "And oddly enough, your roommate got to skip them, too," Susan said. "For much the same reason.

We decide our destiny.

People are using the lifestyle to serve their selfishness, not their partners. So much of it is based on pleasure only, rather than love. ~Lucian Bane~

He was a responsible adult. And that one semester of college didn’t count. It had been his time to explore and experiment. He’d even kissed a girl, and he liked it.

As for these three students, they've obviously performed at a level beyond that expected by first semester students in order to help defend the university." He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and walked away. "Someone put them in harder classes.

In the months since the semester began, Jiang hadn’t shown up once to class. Students occasionally spotted him around campus doing inexcusably rude things. He had in turn flipped Nezha’s lunch tray out of his hands and walked away whistling, petted Kitay on the head while making a pigeon-like cooing noise, and tried to snip Venka’s hair off with garden shears. Whenever a student managed to pin him down to ask about his course, Jiang made a loud farting noise with his mouth and elbow and skirted away.

Fess up, Diana. You’re not worried about saying the wrong thing if you see Matthew Clairmont at a cocktail party. This is how you behave when you’re working on a research problem. What is it about him that’s hooked your imagination?” Sometimes Chris seemed to suspect I was different. But there was no way to tell him the truth. “I have a weakness for smart men.” He sighed. “Okay, don’t tell me. You’re a terrible liar, you know. But be careful. If he breaks your heart, I’ll have to kick his ass, and this is a busy semester for me.

I don’t give a fuck about their opinions on my Bond. I spoke to them when my bloodwork came back and they told me you ran. I’m not a dumbass like the rest of them, you ran because you had to. I know it. I’ll be there as soon as I can and if that isn’t fast enough for you, I’ll come now and start the semester over again.

The first time I looked into a microscope at seaweed and pond water micro- organisms, there was something inside me that shifted—like the way people describe falling in love. And if I hadn’t been given the opportunity to cut into a cow’s eyeball at the age of fifteen, maybe I would have never majored in science, or gone on the semester study abroad trip to Colombia with the UC Santa Cruz biology department. So yes, I blamed seaweed and pond water microorganisms, a cow’s eyeball, and my teachers, the real culprits, for starting me down this path. Just like accident investigators put together a timeline, I call this the causation analysis of my love life.

I want you to remember who you are. Remember the man you were when we met? That man. The man that said I’m going to marry that woman.

This semester we will concentrate on studying Speech as a multilevel system of efforts that either alter the world or prevent it from changing.

What's that?" "My friend St. Clair bought it for me. So I wouldn't feel out of place." She raises her eyebrows as she pulls back onto the road. "Are there a lot of Canadians in Paris?" My face warms. "I just felt,you know, stupid for a while. Like one of those lame American tourists with the white sneakers and the cameras around their necks? So he bought it for me, so I wouldn't feel....embarrassed. American." "Being American is nothing to be ashamed of," she snaps. "God,Mom,I know.I just meant-forget it." "Is this the English boy with the French father?" "What does that have anything to do with it?" I'm angry. I don't like what she's implying. "Besides,he's American. He was born here? His mom lives in San Francisco. We sat next to each other on the plane." We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me. "You like him." "OH GOD,MOM." "You do.You like this boy." "He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend." "Anna has a boooy-friend," Seany chants. "I do not!" "ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!" I take a sip of coffee and choke. It's disgusting. It's sludge. No, it's worse than sludge-at least sludge is organic. Seany is still taunting me. Mom reaches around and grabs his legs,which are kicking her seat again.She sees me making a face at my drink. "My,my. Once semester in France, and suddenly we're Miss Sophisticated. Your father will be thrilled." Like it was my choice! Like I asked to go to Paris! And how dare she mention Dad. "ANNNN-A HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!" We merge back onto the interstate. It's rush hour,and the Atlanta traffic has stopped moving. The car behind ours shakes us with its thumping bass. The car in front sprays a cloud of exhaust straight into our vents. Two weeks.Only two more weeks.s

You’re part of the forensics club,” the medical examiner said doubtfully. I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Detective Shepard is our adviser,” I said. It was true. Sort of. You could look at this semester as the weirdest independent study anyone had ever had.

He wants me to tutor him? It's been two weeks of actual semester work; there is absolutely no way he is already failing something. Honestly, it's laughable if he is. I can't help but feel a tiny twinge of guilt and pity wrapped into one. I don't feel that bad, though.

I know she hates that nickname. That's why I will be using it for the rest of the semester. It is just too easy to piss her off. It's quite a fun game, honestly. Every time she rolls her eyes at me, I think, this time will be when they get stuck and stay in that position forever.

We’ll circle back to my dick in your ass later. Do you think your blow jobs warrant you an A, Miss Mitchell?” “I know they do,” I quip. “So, you’d be willing to bet your entire grade on an oral exam, then?” His face leans down and it’s so close I can almost taste it. “Absolutely.” “Prove it.

We’re all broken in some way. Maybe a little maybe a lot. Life bends us, shapes us, molds us, makes us, breaks us. Not a damn thing for us to be ashamed of, but it’s something we need to come to grips with. No need to cry about it, mope about it, be pissed about it, holler about it, moan and groan about it. It’s something we face and deal with. Because whether we like it or not, whether we realize it or not, want it or not, we have to take responsibility for who we are

We’re all broken in some way. Maybe a little maybe a lot. Life bends us, shapes us, molds us, makes us, breaks us. Not a damn thing for us to be ashamed of, but it’s something we need to come to grips with. No need to cry about it, mope about it, be pissed about it, holler about it, moan and groan about it. It’s something we face and deal with. Because whether we like it or not, whether we realize it or not, want it or not, we have to take responsibility for who we are from this day forward.

The summer had been like a dream, some parts of it a nightmare, but overall a good dream. Magic.

Most of all, she said it couldn’t be just any girl. It needed to be a girl who can become a Scully, like us. But I was five, and dumb, and on pain meds, so what I heard was Skull Eyes." (...) “Every time you called me that, you really called me the love of your life?” “Now she is following. Where have you been this semester, Skull Eyes?” "Waiting for you.

Everything I touch is tainted, Penn. Everything I want turns to ash. I spent the entire semester trying to be yours, but you’ve never once claimed my heart. I’m sending you to Adriana’s arms, not because I don’t care, but because I do. So much. Maybe too much. Because I screwed up so many relationships, the only way for us to heal is if I take myself out of the equation.

I—I don’t know where I’ve been,” I admitted. “I have some memory gaps.” Percy winced. “I hate memory gaps. Last year I lost an entire semester thanks to Hera.” “Ah, yes.” I couldn’t quite remember what Percy Jackson was talking about. During the war with Gaea, I had been focused mostly on my own fabulous exploits. But I suppose he and his friends had undergone a few minor hardships.

Just do a Google search on it. The Bible’s definition of marriage. New Testament. When you read it, you’ll see what I mean. God’s the Master of D/s. So how’s married life?” He moved on, oh so confident.

Months later… I try my best to enjoy summer vacation, knowing that in a few weeks I’ll be heading into the last semester of my senior year. I should’ve graduated in June, but because Robbie and I moved around during my freshman year, I fell behind a semester. Even though I won’t graduate and walk across the stage until December, my eighteenth birthday is only a few weeks away. That’s when I’ll be forced to leave the house. After the fallout with Cain back in January, I haven’t heard from him other than the few times he came by with gifts and tried to see me.

My sleep cycle is a bit more elaborate. The seven stages of sleep (according to my body) STAGE 1: You take the maximum dose of sleeping pills, but they don’t work at all and then you glare at their smug bottles at three a.m., whispering, “You lying bastards.” STAGE 2: You fall asleep for eight minutes and you have that dream where you’ve missed a semester of classes and don’t know where you’re supposed to be and when you wake up you realize that even in sleep you’re fucking your life up. STAGE 3: You close your eyes for just a minute but never lose consciousness and then you open your eyes and realize it’s been hours since you closed your eyes and you feel like you’ve lost time and were probably abducted by aliens. STAGE 4: This is the sleep that you miss because you’re too busy looking up “Symptoms of Alien Abduction” on your phone. STAGE 5: This is the deep REM sleep that recharges you completely and doesn’t actually exist but is made up by other people to taunt you. STAGE 6: You hover in a state of half sleep when you’re trying to stay under but someone is touching your nose and you think it’s a dream but now someone is touching your mouth and you open your eyes and your cat’s face is an inch from yours and he’s like, “BOOP. I got your nose.” STAGE 7: You finally fall into the deep sleep you desperately need. Sadly, this sleep only comes after you’re supposed to be awake, and you feel guilty about getting it because you should have been up hours ago but you’ve been up all night and now your arms are missing.

He mumbled through a few more sentences and slowed at, “‘However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.’” He looked at her. “This is where shit gets fucked up in the lifestyle. It’s too one-sided. People are using the lifestyle to serve their selfishness, not their partners. So much of it is based on pleasure only, rather than love.

She said only true love would get rid of the curse. And it will have to be requited. And real. And for life. Most of all, she said it couldn’t be just any girl. It needed to be a girl who can become a Scully, like us. But I was five, and dumb, and on pain meds, so what I heard was Skull Eyes. So I laughed and laughed and fucking laughed some more until she hit me with a broomstick. But wanna know what the weird thing is?” Daria nods. “When I saw you all broken and upset and finally mustered up the courage to talk to you, there really were skulls in your eyes. Like white marbles, bang, in the middle of your pupils.” Daria takes my hand and presses her lips to my palm. My heart quickens. “Every time you called me that, you really called me the love of your life?” she asks quietly. I smile. “Now she is following. Where have you been this semester, Skull Eyes?

I made an appointment with a sleep doctor, who explained that during the sleep study people would be watching me sleep and monitoring my brain waves to see how I reacted during the four stages of sleep. I'd explain those stages if I could spell all the complicated words but they basically range from "Wide awake" to "Just barely not dead." My sleep cycle is a bit more elaborate. The seven stages of sleep (according to my body) STAGE 1: You take the maximum dose of sleeping pills, but they don't work at all and then you glare at their smug bottles at three a.m., whispering, "You lying bastards." STAGE 2: You fall asleep for eight minutes and you have that dream where you've missed a semester of classes and don't know where you're supposed to be and when you wake up you realize that even in your sleep you're fucking your life up. STAGE 3: You close your eyes for just a minute but never lose consciousness and then you open your eyes and realize it's been hours since you closed your eyes and you feel like you've lost time and were probably abducted by aliens. STAGE 4: This is the sleep that you miss because you're too busy looking up "Symptoms of Alien Abduction" on your phone. STAGE 5: This is the deep REM sleep that recharges you completely and doesn't actually exist but is made up by other people to taunt you. STAGE 6: You hover in a state of half sleep when you're trying to stay under but someone is touching your nose and you think it's a dream but now someone is touching your mouth and you open your eyes and your cat's face is an inch from yours and he's like, "BOOP. I got your nose." STAGE 7: You finally fall into the deep sleep you desperately need. Sadly, this sleep only comes after you're suppose to be awake, and you feel guilty about getting it because you should have been up hours ago but you've been up all night and now your arms are missing. I suspected that the only stage of sleep I'd have during the sleep study would be the sleep you don't get because strangers are watching you.

A chair down the row from mine shifted and my mouth watered from the aroma of hot cinnamon rolls. I snuck a peek and noticed red, silky, curly hair. I knew her. Echo Emerson. Not a cinnamon roll in sight, but damn if she didn’t smell like one. We had several of our main courses together and last semester one of our free periods. I didn’t know much about her other than she kept to herself, she was smart, a redhead and she had big tits. She wore large, long-sleeved shirts that hung off her shoulders and tank tops underneath that revealed just enough to get the fantasies flowing. Like always, she stared straight ahead as if I didn’t exist. Hell, I probably didn’t exist in her mind. People like Echo Emerson irritated the crap out of me. “You’ve got a f*cked-up name,” I mumbled. I didn’t know why I wanted to rattle her, I just did. “Shouldn’t you be getting high in the bathroom?” So she did know me. “They installed security cameras. We do it in the parking lot now.” “My bad.” Her foot rocked frantically back and forth. Good, I’d succeeded in getting under that perfect facade. “Echo … echo … echo …” Her foot stopped rocking and red curls bounced furiously as she turned to face me. “How original. I’ve never heard that before.” She swept up her backpack and left the office. Her tight ass swayed side to side as she marched down the hallway.

...my vocabulary was now down to nine words....For the record, here is my entire vocabulary of manageable words: fuck, shit, piss, cunt, goddamn, motherfucker, asshole, peepee, and poopoo. A quick analysis will show some redundancy here. I had at my disposal eight nouns, which stood for six things; five of the eight nouns could double as verbs. I retained one indisputable noun and a single adjective which also could be used as a a verb or expletive. My new language universe was comprised of four monosyllables, three compound words, and two baby-talk repetitions. My arena of literal expression offered four avenues to the topic of elimination, two references to human anatomy, one request for divine imprecation, one standard description of or request for coitus, and a coital variation which was no longer an option for me since my mother was deceased.

you? Do you know what this would do to Mom? And what about me? How am I going to get through the rest of the semester when I’m all sad and stuff?” Charlene snorted. “Like you’d care.” She had to be cold in her skinny jeans, but at least she was wearing a sweater. The cold seeped down to Gray’s bones. The tips of her fingers felt as though they’d

Oh, what”—Calder rolled his eyes—“did you pee in all the corners and now it’s yours?” “Fuck you, dead man.

THE SECOND CITY MANAGES to accomplish three things to accelerate its performers’ growth: (1) it gives them rapid feedback; (2) it depersonalizes the feedback; and (3) it lowers the stakes and pressure, so students take risks that force them to improve. For the first year, Leonard explains, The Second City’s goal is to get students used to anticipating negative feedback and to get them out of their own heads. This is about building confidence and creating a “safe” environment in which it’s OK to screw up. Then, second-year classes ratchet up the feedback, putting actors in a succession of situations where they will fail small in front of live crowds. It’s one thing for your coactor or director to tell you a joke is funny, but it’s entirely another to hear the pins drop when a live audience disagrees. Or conversely to hear wild cackling from the crowd at something that may have seemed like a bad idea on paper. Every laugh or lack thereof becomes a data point that the actors can use to better themselves. By embracing all these tiny failures, there is no actual failure.* In contrast, a typical acting class might spend an entire semester building up to a single performance. Students practice together in class, but they don’t know if the audience will like their show until the final day. And if the audience hates it, there’s nothing students can do.

[1] Of all the books we have read this semester, which one did you enjoy least? [2] To what limitation in yourself do you attribute this inability to appreciate an acknowledged classic?)

The internal conflict kept Jonah paralyzed in place. That is, until Pup walked over to him and rested his head on Jonah’s lap. Amber eyes looked up at him with the same loving, devoted gaze that had met him earlier that morning, except this time those eyes were in a different face. Everything that had been holding Jonah back was dismissed with that recognition. This was his Zev, the man who meant everything to him. Okay, so what he’d just witnessed with his own eyes didn’t make sense, but, hey, neither did physics at the beginning of the semester freshman year, and by the end, Jonah had earned an A. So he’d just need to learn about this in the same way, ask questions, study… whatever there was to study. Jonah was a good student; learning had never been an issue for him. Jonah took in a deep breath. Yes, this was all about learning something new. It’d be fine.

If I win, you’re to be at my beck and call for the semester. If I need a favor, you have to drop what you’re doing. Within reason, of course. If I want someone to go shopping with, you have to come. If I want a gym buddy or want to go get mani-pedis, you’re who I’m calling to come with me.” Creed didn’t hide his irritation. “You want a boyfriend.

Crap. I’d signed up for the group at the start of the semester, but that was before Cass decided we had to rehearse on Mondays and Wednesdays at the exact time the study group meets up. Another message pops up before I can respond, and whoever said it isn’t possible to detect a person’s tone via text

The smell of lasagna wafts around me and my mouth waters, giving me feelings of nostalgia and reminding me of home. I look up from my computer and watch Aidan move around his kitchen. His arms flex and tighten as he does something so domestic. For me. And in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants that make my mouth water and a t-shirt. Aidan Reed, also known as the most gorgeous man I’d ever met and the best sex of my life, is now making me dinner.

If I would have known that the last time I touched you was the last time, I never would have let go,” I whisper in her ear. “I wouldn’t have fucked you against the door. I would have laid you down and worshipped every inch of your body. I would have made love to you until our bodies couldn’t go on another second. I would have memorized you.

bucolic

Watch me make my friggin’ VTuber debut next semester. I’m gonna wreck your data plans!

How many ladies in here know that a man shows his affection and love through sex?” Lucian raised his hand along with every other man in there. “Ohhhhh,” Lucian said, getting up and walking before the class. “None of you ladies knew that a man’s heart is in his dick?

Now here’s a shocker for the men. Maybe. Did you guys know that most women express love through words and non-sexual affection? Caressing, kissing and cuddling?” He nodded smiling. “And women, did you know what non-sexual caressing, kissing, and cuddling makes a man want?” They were all quiet now. They were connecting it. “Sex. That’s right. Vicious cycle isn’t it?

Going to art class?” James asked, taking a few steps toward her. “You took art two semesters in a row?” “Well, I can’t play an instrument, so it was either art of band,” Mandy said, laughing lightly. “There aren’t a lot of electives to choose from.” “You don’t want to be a band geek anyway,” James teased. “That will ruin your reputation forever.

Horst (2005) used simplified readers in a study of vocabulary development among adult immigrants who were enrolled in an ESL programme in a community centre in Montreal, Canada. The 21 participants represented several language backgrounds and proficiency levels. In addition to the activities of their regular ESL class, students chose simplified readers that were made available in a class library. Over a six-week period, students took books home and read them on their own. Horst developed individualized vocabulary measures so that learning could be assessed in terms of the books each student actually read. She found that there was vocabulary growth attributable to reading, even over this short period, and that the more students read, the more words they learned. She concluded that substantial vocabulary growth through reading is possible, but that students must read a great deal (more than just one or two books per semester) to realize those benefits. As we saw in Chapter 2, when we interact in ordinary conversations, we tend to use mainly the 1,000 or 2,000 most frequent words. Thus, reading is a particularly valuable source of new vocabulary. Students who have reached an intermediate level of proficiency may have few opportunities to learn new words in everyday conversation. It is in reading a variety of texts that students are most likely to encounter new vocabulary. The benefit of simplified readers is that students encounter a reasonable number of new words. This increases the likelihood that they can figure out the meaning of new words (or perhaps be motivated to look them up). If the new words occur often enough, students may remember them when they encounter them in a new context.

She kept it all inside, she pretended it was all normal while she fought not to drown and dared not cry. Not where they could see.

desires. You see what I’m saying, Bane?” “I do. Unselfish love is the foundation. Got it.

A great marriage is one of the most important institutions in the world. A marriage is a kingdom with a King and a Queen. Great marriages create great families. Great families create more great families. That’s how you build a strong town, a strong city, a country, an empire.

Both battered to shit, both broken. But they were broken together now. Him, her, and their son or daughter. His very own family. And that’s all that mattered. They were together, and together

Core principals Bane. What’s the core principal of the D/s?” “Love,” Lucian said without thought. “Not just any kind of love. But selfless love. It becomes all about her needs and desires. And for her, it becomes all about your needs and

Lucian was no longer just a Dom. He was the man that dominated every-fucking-thing—especially himself—for the woman he loved, his wife. His child. His family. He’d become what he’d always dreamed of. A righteous warrior, an alpha hero. A White Knight Dom. And that… was game fucking on.

Maybe it was the fact that she’d decided to take a statistics class this semester, but she’d started to see trends everywhere; and mostly in her own behavior. The main trend in said behavior being this: it was getting worse, with each passing day. It almost felt like the tension in her body was building up to something; preparing herself… But that was crazy. Wasn’t it?

In your practical semester you have repeatedly practised the art of orgasm

True heroism begins with I do!

The summer had been like a dream, some parts of it a nightmare, but overall a good dream. Magic.

We only thought we knew who we were and what we wanted. Maybe life has a way of teaching us—if we let it—that we actually don’t know who we are and what we want. Maybe it can teach us that who we say we want to be, is really what society, friends, family, wants us to be.

The moment I saw him, I just knew that I was going to be in for one hell of a semester. I had screwed one of my professors. Hell, I had licked honey off his chest! This was not supposed to happen.

I think they'd barely recognize us as brothers and sisters. If we told them, church is on Sundays, and we have an awesome band...if the found out 1/6th of the earth's population claimed to be Christians, I'm not sure they could reconcile the suffering happening on our watch while we're living in excess... But listen, early church, we have a monthly event called 'Mocha chicks', we have choir practice every Wednesday, we organize retreats with door prizes, we're raising $3 million for an outdoor amphitheater, we have catchy t-shirts, we don't smoke or say the f-word, we go to bible study every semester... the local church would be the heartbeat of the city.

Bronson finally wandered off. Trevor handed me a Sprite and sat on the ottoman next to my chair. “Are you having a good time?” he asked, gulping down his own drink.  I couldn’t tell what he was drinking since the glass was opaque, but I hoped he was keeping his word that his partying days were behind him. I sipped at my soda. “It's okay. I don't really know anybody though.” “It's getting close to midnight. Do you want to get out of here?” Relieved he had made the suggestion, I smiled. “Yes, please.”  He took my hand as we walked out to his car. “Where should we go?” I asked as I put on my seatbelt. “I know just the place.” He grinned as he started the engine. We drove for a while and when we stopped we were overlooking the valley. Even though it was cold outside, the view was spectacular.  Trevor left the car running so we could stay warm. Even so, I cuddled up to him. He gazed at me, the black of his pupils enlarged in his blue eyes. “It's midnight, Lily.” His voice was husky as he reached out and cradled my face in his hands. I closed my eyes, ready to accept his kiss. He pressed his lips against mine, gently at first, then more urgently. “I don't think I can wait four more weeks,” he groaned. “We're practically married now. Do we really need to wait?” I pulled back. “But we’re not actually married.” He stared at me in the dim moonlight. “You’re one stubborn girl.” Wanting to change the subject, I groped around in my mind for something else to talk about. The messages I'd received popped into my head and they wouldn't leave. “Trevor, I got a weird e-mail the other day.” “Oh, yeah?” He said without much enthusiasm.  “Yes. They were about you.” That got his attention. He sat up straighter. “Who sent them?” “I don't know,” I said. “Okay. What did they say?” “Basically, they told me not to marry you.”  “What?” He shifted in his seat to face me more squarely.  “That's right. This time I sent an e-mail back, though,” I smiled, proud I had taken some sort of action. “And did you get a response?” “Not yet.” His hand shot out and grabbed me by the arm. “Tell me if you do. Will you promise me?” Startled by his response, I said, “Okay, if that's what you want.” He let go of my arm and I rubbed it where he had squeezed.  “It's getting late. I'd better get you home.” Trevor put the car in gear and we drove toward my apartment. His sudden change in attitude concerned me. What did he know that he wasn’t telling me? The spring semester started a few days later. I was excited to begin my new classes and went eagerly to my first one. It was a required Humanities course. I was surprised to find Justin sitting in the classroom. There was an empty seat beside him and I pulled it out and sat down. “What are you doing in this class?” I said. “Oh, hey, Lily. How's it going?” His smile was warm and friendly. “Great. How about you? I hear you and Pamela are getting serious.”  “Yeah, but not as serious as you, I hear.”  I noticed he seemed very pleased to hear about my own engagement and was surprised. I guess he's over me, I thought. That's good, I suppose. “Yes. Three and a

You know, I had a course with him last semester. It turned out to be my favorite subject.” “Oh? What subject?” “Don’t recall,” she giggled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her. Gabby. She’s sitting at the bar, slowly stirring her drink, looking like she’d rather be getting a root canal. Her thick black hair is down, and she’s wearing this shimmery little dress that hugs her curves. When she looks up, our eyes lock, and just for a second it’s hard to breathe. Damn. She’s beautiful. Despite the fact that we’re neighbors, I haven’t seen her much this semester. I swear, she’s hotter every time I see her, which seems impossible. But despite having some damn good reasons for creating space between us, I’m tempted to cross the bar to talk to her. Then he walks up to her, that scumbag I inadvertently introduced her to when I called for the ambulance last May. But what was I supposed to do? Let her lie there on the concrete, pale, passed out, and bleeding, and not do anything? How was I to know Jason would show up like a fucking white knight? Nothing that day went right. They told me I’d just missed her at the hospital when I tried to track her down and make sure she was okay, and when I went to her place, she slammed the door in my face. She doesn’t see him yet, but Jason leans in to whisper in her ear. She arches away, clearly uncomfortable, and I realize I’ve made a fist. He’d better not be fucking with her. If this is what she wants, cool. I don’t have to like it, but making the moves on a woman who’s not interested is another thing. It’s been at least a month since I saw him ask her out. Have they been dating all this time?

Sleeping with him once will get rid of that itch and then I can move on. This semester will fly by and then we’ll never have to see each other again, right?

pronunciation that was completely incorrect. I’ve never been to France, but I did take a semester of French in college, and I know how to say rouge, thanks. “Don’t get to go to many five-star restaurants, I assume?” he asks, smugly sipping his water. Optimism: slipping. “I’ve heard the steak is good,” I say,

There's no progress without a bit of trouble. And without progress, where would new books come from? Where would the fresh ideas or the inspiring characters emerge?

The annoyance returned and it took all my strength not to roll my eyes so hard that I'd see my brain.

P.E., or Physical Embarrassment as he preferred to call it. He swore under his breath and went toward the gymnasium where he would be miserable for an hour every morning this semester.

I could not bear to tell Tig the whole of it—the arrests, the charges, the shell companies that had filed the paperwork for H-1B after H-1B, taking the money of eager men from Haryana and UP and Punjab. My father’s partners claiming he knew all along that the visas were cooked, he handled the finances, he started the company, this was his plan. I was well into my first semester at Madison. My parents were determined to protect me. Their greatest investment. I was told so little.

The witch is asking the vampire and a werewolf if a big bird is real?

I remembered my college days when I was an English and History double major just like Rocky. One semester, I’d had to buy sixty-seven books. Sixty-seven. I loved books, but that was ridiculous.

I’m gonna come home, Mom, even if it’s not forever. I can take a semester off and then decide if I’ll go back next year. You guys need me here. It might be hard for Dad, and I—” “You’ll do no such thing,” Dad said, his voice raspy. “We didn’t mean to wake you,” Mom replied. “You didn’t. I always wake up when I’m needed.” Dad’s eyes on me were intense. “You’re not comin’ home.” “You’ve said it yourself, I belong here. You’re my family, and I’m supposed to be working this farm with you.” The words were heavy in my chest. “No, son. You don’t belong here. And not because we don’t love you or want you. You’re too damn bright a light for this place, and the last thing I want is to go to my grave knowing that my dreams for you dimmed that light.” “Dad… I…” I didn’t know what to say. Or what to feel, other than loved. “Nearly dying does a thing to a fella. I just… When I was goin’ down, all I was thinkin’ was, what if I died and my boy thinks I don’t love him? Don’t accept him? And listenin’ to you with your mama right now…you talk about that boyfriend of yours the way I always talked about her. Couldn’t believe she would give me the time a day, if I’m being honest. But I loved her and she loved me, and you love that boy just the same.

Says the asshole who left a live raccoon in my bedroom on the first day of the semester.

I’m taking Practical Skills this semester,” he says, and Miranda interrupts him. “Translation: home economics for rich kids who’ve never done a load of laundry in their life.

I don’t know anything. And quite frankly, for thirty-two, you act like a fucking college fuckboy. Say what you mean and mean what you say.

I’d eventually given up and climbed into bed with Sex and the City and a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Maybe because you’ve only fucked two boys and this is so clearly a man.

Fine. Don’t expect me in class on Wednesday. You can take those five points and shove them up your ass,

I think we should meet here first. The name is Atlas Bassinger, and I live on the other side of the country. I’m finishing out the semester and then coming to you, my college wouldn’t let me transfer mid-unit, otherwise I’d be there now. Hope you can understand that.

It’s cute really. Watching you try to pretend that this kid can make you feel half as good as I can with one touch.

She wanted to fight. I’m from North Jersey, we don’t back down from a fight.” Lola sounded serious and I had to take a moment to control myself. They were going to meet in the school parking lot after dark. It was like a bad chick flick. “Well, they’re gone. I just wanted to let you know.” I really would prefer to stay out of this. “Did she threaten you or break any of our stuff? Do you want to call the police on her?” Lola asked, showing some concern. “No, she just got in my face when I wouldn’t let her search the room for you. Everything is fine. We definitely don’t need to call the police,” I assured her. “Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sorry you got dragged into this.” With that, Lola hung up the phone. I shook my head in disbelief.

As the saying goes, "It's not who you know, but who knows you." How does that relate to getting a job? Lets look at 2 cases where "who knows you" resulted in landing the best job. Keep in mind: The great thing is that you can start right where you are right now! Case 1 In my first teaching job in Mexico in the early 1980's, we were half way through the semester, when the director called me into his office to tell me he had taken a job in Silicon Valley, California. What he said next floored me. "I'd like you to apply for my job." How could I apply to be the director of an English school when it was my first teaching job, all the teachers had more teaching experience than I did, and many of them had doctorate degrees. I only had a bachelors degree. "Don't worry," he said. "People like you, and I think you have what it takes to be a good director." The director knew me, or at least got to know me from teachers' meetings, seeing me teach, and noticing how I interacted with people. Case 2 Fast forward 3 years. After Mexico, I moved to Reno, Nevada, to work on my Master's degree in Teaching English as a Second Language. I applied for a teaching job at the community college, and half-way into the semester, a teacher had to leave and I got the job. I impressed the director enough that she asked me to be the Testing and Placement Coordinator the next year. At the end of that year, I wrote a final report about the testing and placement program. It so impressed the college administration that when a sister university was looking for a graduate student to head up a new language assessment program for new foreign graduate teaching assistants and International faculty, I got recommended. What Does This Mean? From these two examples, you can see that when people see what you can do, you have a greater chance of being seen and being known. When people see what you are capable of doing, there is less risk in hiring you. Why? Because they've seen you be successful before. Chances are you'll be successful with them, too. But, if people don't know you and haven't seen what you can do, there is much greater risk in hiring you. In fact, you may not even be on their radar screen. Get On Their Radar Screens To get on the radar screens for the best jobs, do the best job you can where you work right now. Don't wait for the job announcement to appear in the newspaper. Don't wait for something else to happen. Right now, invest all of you and your unique talents into what you're doing. Impress people with what you can do! Do that, and see the jobs you'll get!

My heart and soul belong to only you. Where you go, I will follow. Think of me as you dream, Honeybee. ~F

I could have been much less kind, trust me,” The dragon waved off my outburst. “Perhaps if you can give me a reason as to why I should bond with you…?” Despite my insistence, I couldn’t think of any reason at all why the dragon should accept my bond now that I was put on the spot. My hands clenched into fists, determined to sway him, however. “Because I am worthy of it!” I snapped, defending my pride and honor. The dragon rolled its eyes once more and looked me up and down as though I were on display to be judged. “Care to demonstrate, Martin?” I puffed out my chest and slammed my fist against it like Tarzan would. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.” The still-unnamed dragon seemed rather unimpressed with my declaration. He opened his mouth to offer some sort of witty comeback but closed it again. His forked tongue slithered over his teeth as he mulled over my challenge. And then we began the fastest lightning round of twenty questions I’d ever experienced. “Do you have any experience in fighting?” “I took tae kwon do after class in college for a semester and a half.” “How many languages are you fluent in?” “I can say ‘I only speak English’ in seven languages, not including English.” “At what level would you rate your intelligence?” “Well, I’m not stupid.” The dragon snorted, though whether it was in amusement or disbelief, I wasn’t clear. He continued all the same. “Any healing abilities?” “I can give mouth to mouth.” “Are you able to be stealthy? Deceptive?” “I trip over my own shadow and couldn’t lie to a rock.” “Your honesty might just be your redeeming quality, Martin,” the dragon joked.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.

Most, perhaps all, of us were from middle-class families and trying to pay our way through college. Waitresses could clear from $1,000 to $1,500 for the summer, bellhops $800 or so. Now this may not seem like a lot, but at the University of Illinois in the sixties my tuition for a semester was—parents, do not commit hara-kiri—$135.

Voglio scoparti.” Translation? I want to fuck you. “Sì, per favore,” I tell him. Yes, please.