part time employment

Hello everyone! It’s #optomstudies here again with another study tip on Part Time Work! I received the following asks from anons, thank you for prompting this! :) I’m by no means an expert, but this is the advice that I gained while looking for my own job. 

hey, i recently finished reading all your study tips so far and i just wanted to let you know that they’re super helpful!! i’m starting uni next month and im soo glad that i came across your series bc now i feel less anxious about starting!! if you have time, i would love it if you have any tips about getting a part-time job in uni? like yourself, i didn’t think that i could manage high school + part time job so i would rlly love some advice from you again if possible! 

Realise that you can juggle part time work, but don’t bite off more than you can chew. Working more than 2-3 days a week will stress you out, as you won’t have time to complete both uni work and enjoy a little destressing time. I’d advise max 1.5 days a week for a 5 day degree, and that’s if you use 80% of the remaining time studying. Count any other commitments as part of these ‘work’ hours too - if you have church, younger siblings to cook for, etc. Most unis advise 2 hours of self-study per contact hour at uni for degrees like science/engineering, and up to 4 for arts/commerce degrees! So factor that in when you’re planning. 

Research an entry level job that relates to your degree. The best types of jobs would be those in which you are assistants to the position you want to work in once you have graduated. Just ensure that the position promises you on-the-job training, as most students likely have limited employment experiences outside retail and tutoring. 

Research how to write a great first resume and practice interview skills. Your university careers website will contain plenty of information, as well as templates for your first resume to highlight your strengths. There is a wealth of information out there regarding the actual process of CV-writing and interviews, so refer to those :) Make sure you research the company you want to work with, their values and also personalise your resume and cover letter to highlight why you would be suited for that position and what you can bring as an employee. 

Hand in your resume personally to each store you apply to. Politely ask if you can speak to the manager, dress in business clothing, introduce yourself in a friendly manner and ask them to consider your resume if a position ever opens. If it’s for an advertised position, call back in 1-2 weeks to check up on them and thank them for their consideration. Even if the position is filled, you can still gain valuable information by asking them why you weren’t hired (politely of course), since you have nothing to lose. They may have noticed something about your cover letter or resume that put them off choosing, or they might let you know it was fine but they just had a more qualified individual applying. 

Prepare for common questions on interviews, and just be yourself. My manager, who was so kind as to give me a chance despite not having much work experience, told me that she liked my honesty and enthusiasm which is why she hired me. Most of the time for an entry level position, they aren’t looking too much for technical skills as they are looking for personality (well at least for retail positions anyway) and transferable skills like communication and interpersonal skills. 

I hoped this helped everyone! I do have an #employment tag but tips don’t float around the studyblr as often as posts on study methods (please send me links if you find anything, thank you!! :D) so I’ve just linked the posts here:




Bts reaction to finding out you had an emo phase

Request:  Hello can I request a bts reaction where they found you listening to heavy metal which makes them find out about your metal/emo phase??? Thank you I would be happy if you did it


“Don’t lie. What emo phase? Wait, this is yours? Baby, you are the cutest emo out there.”

Originally posted by bangtan-sons


“My emo phase was worst than yours. Actually, I’m still going through it. We can go through it together. Good. Couple for life.”

Originally posted by yngissi


“Y/n, I thought your taste in music will be more on the popish side. I didn’t expect that. You can help me find some good rythyms for our next album. Emo.” 

Originally posted by yoongichii


“Heavy metal, huh? What kind of choreography will I be able to pull for you? I want your style to represent mine, angel.”

Originally posted by yoongichii


“I haven’t listened to Heavy Metal. Is it too heavy? I mean like…I don’t know. I can’t imagine you being a emo. You are such a squishy.”

Originally posted by softfluffytae


“What metals? Y/N DON’T TELL ME YOU’VE BEEN LIFTING HEAVY METALS AS A PART-TIME JOB! DID YOUR EMPLOYER CALLED YOU EMO. But that’s not your name. Also it’s not good for you. You can hurt your back. Quit this part-time job.

Originally posted by just-imagine-bts


“I also listen to this. We can listen together. I don’t know what else to say. You want me to dye your hair?” “Jeon Jungkook, what the actual fuck?” “I thought this was emo like behaivior.” “Leave.”

Originally posted by baekon-stripss

I’ve been trying to sort through the competing perspectives on Seattle’s minimum wage hike for the last week. 

Seattle raised their minimum wage is stages, to $11 and then to $13 and coming up soon to $15/hour. They commissioned a study from the University of Washington, which would have access to an extraordinarily rich corpus of data from all across Washington State, to examine the effects of the minimum wage increase. When the minimum wage went up to $11, the effects were nothing to write home about for either side of the debate - the study found that the average low-wage worker brought home about $75/month more but that low-wage employment seems to have been depressed slightly. (So, it was a little harder to find a job, but if you found one you’d bring home some extra money.) Since this wasn’t very exciting it didn’t attract much attention, and to my knowledge no concerns were raised about the study methodology at that time.

The $13/hour minimum wage, according to the researchers, was harmful to low-wage workers. When word got out that that’s the direction their research was pointing, the city stopped funding them, instead commissioned a different study using different methodology from UC Berkeley, pressured UC Berkeley to publish their results a week before the results from the University of Washington study, and then publicized/promoted those results (which found no effect on employment in the restaurant sector). 

Then the University of Washington study came out. It found that the average low-wage worker took home $125 less per paycheck as a result of the minimum wage increase, because for every 1% increase in the minimum wage hours were cut by 3%. So you’d earn slightly more per hour but get your hours cut way back. Like UC Berkeley they found no effect in the restaurant sector, but they found dramatic effects in most other low-wage sectors.

This time, lots of concerns have been raised about the University of Washington study methodology. Obviously, since these were not raised when the first leg of the study came out, they’re partially motivated by the desire to refute the findings. On the other hand, that doesn’t make them wrong. People have expressed concerned that they accounted insufficiently for nationwide trends in the retail industry, which might have resulted in cuts to hours even without the minimum wage hike (they accounted for Seattle in comparison to other Washington cities, but if there’s some reason to expect large cities to move differently from small ones and Seattle to be in a reference class different than the rest of the state, this wouldn’t have been fully accounted for.) They take issue with the framing in comparison to ‘a Seattle that didn’t raise the minimum wage’, which is of course something we can’t really know about. And the methodology does not account for people getting part-time employment in industries that their data does not track, like ridesharing or sex work or informal childcare, or getting jobs outside the city. 

My impression is that the result is pretty robust, and that these factors change the details but not the overall picture, which is that when you raise the minimum wage to $13/hour companies cut positions and cut hours, and low-wage workers bring home less money than before. If this is true, the effects when Seattle hikes to $15 will be even more pronounced and harder to explain away, and we’ll have a more definitive answer.

anonymous asked:

I have a job interview for a wait staff position in a cafe. How can I prepare for this? It'll be my first job in the food industry. However, I have past experiences in retail.

Hi there!! I’m not too much of an expert for job interviews because I’ve only done a few, but here are some tips for you :)

  • Focus on the similarities between your experience and the job you are being considered for. Retail also has the aspect of customer service and care that being wait staff entails. Think of the things that you’ve done in your previous jobs that have involved customer service. Use the job description to help you determine what they want. 
  • Brainstorm examples of situations where you have handled difficult customers or when you have gone above and beyond what was expected of you prior to the interview. All the interviews I’ve had so far, they’ve asked me for examples, and I wished in retrospect that I had these prepared beforehand ^^’
  • Know your own skill set, particularly the transferable “soft” skills. Even if you don’t have specific experience in being a wait staff, you can focus on your transferable skills like communication, interpersonal, conflict resolution skills. 
  • Have a planned response for why you want to work for a particular employer; this includes research about the institution you are applying for, what values they have and your suitability, and what value you can bring to their workplace. 
  • Be relaxed throughout the interview, ask for a glass of water or bring one in so that you can take a drink whilst you think of answers, dress appropriately depending on the particular restaurant you’re applying for, and make sure your first impression counts. 
  • Be honest but make sure you emphasise your good qualities! An interview isn’t a time for you to downplay your strengths. 
  • Think about it as you interviewing them as well! Helps with your confidence :) Ask them questions which show that you want to know whether the workplace would suit you or not. 

Hope you get the job! Let me know how it goes! ^__^

Originally posted by minshoot


Dance Night AU 

YoonSeok Social Media AU

 Yoongi is a worker at a local music shop. Namjoon, his boss, decided to hire Hoseok. Hoseok is an underground dancer barely making ends meat, and ends up seeking part time employment. (2/?)

if you’re gonna throw your life away, he’d better have a motorcycle

(Part 1) (ao3)

“Uh-oh,” Octavia says under her breath. She’s looking out the window of Clarke’s diner with a look on her face Bellamy can only describe as ‘apprehensive.’

“What?” He twists around to look.

“Jasper’s got a big box in his hands and that look he only gets on his face when he’s figured out some new moneymaking plan.”

“Uh-oh,” Bellamy echoes.

Jasper is lovably ridiculous, but he’s known around town for being willing to do just about anything for a dollar, from putting on a one-man-Nirvana-cover-band concert, to a rickshaw business that came to a sudden arboreal stop, to dressing up in a peanut costume (that looked borderline pornographic, in Bellamy’s opinion, though seeing a scandalized Jaha was more than worth it) at last year’s Fall Festival. He means well, but his entrepreneurial schemes tend to be hit-or-miss, and are always off-color.

“Incoming,” Octavia warns, smiling over Bellamy’s shoulder as he hears the diner door chime behind him.

“Morning, Blakes,” Jasper says cheerfully, beelining for their table.


“Whatcha got in the box?” Bellamy flinches when Octavia kicks him under the table. Jasper doesn’t notice, brightening.

“I heard about this guy who has started selling shirts every day with topical headlines about things that are happening around his town, and I thought to myself: self, enough happens in Ark Grove, we could use something like that.”

Bellamy and Octavia exchange a look.

“What does today’s shirt say?” Octavia asks, sounding almost like she’s nervous to know.

Jasper holds one up proudly, plain black with Times New Roman type across the front, declaring–

“Monty’s blooms: late,” Octavia reads. She squints at Jasper. “What does that even mean?”

“He promised me he’d have his squash at the Farmer’s Market by this weekend, but they’re not ready yet.” He frowns down at the shirt in his hands. “What else could it mean?” He grumbles, more to himself than to Octavia.

“Well,” she says hastily, “you know, art can have lots of meanings. I didn’t know how deep we were getting.”

Keep reading

Coffee Shop Love [Part 2]

Words: 2882

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Angst 

Characters: Park Jihoon x Reader (Y/N = Your Name) 

Plot: This might sound like your typical Korean drama scenario (cue coffee prince) where a barista finds himself falling heads over heels for a customer and vice versa, or at least that is what Y/N thought. Who knew that she might actually have met her first love in a place as simple as a quiet coffee shop off the streets of Hongdae?

A/N: And this is the second part of the fully written one shot from me as a gift of appreciation for all my readers, followers or people who have reblogged and liked my content. :’) Just wanted to say that I am super grateful for all the positive feedback so far ( @commedestae and @jihoonslattee ) and it really did make my day after a tiring day at school! Hence, here I am again with the second part and I hope that you guys would enjoy it as much as the first one! ^^ Once again, happy reading! 


Warning: Mentions of sexual harassment 

From that day onwards, it turned out that we did see each other more often, apart from going to the cafe. When he was off work, we would find ourselves back in the cafe anyway, but this time, instead of being the one serving me, he became my study buddy. Despite the occasional coos from his co-workers, he would brush them off and shake his head. If I did have a problem, he would help me straight away and would explain the solution thoroughly and easily.

Apart from studying, there were days when we would casually hang out after school. He would pick me up and we would have lunch together, either at a traditional fast food restaurant or even a hearty meal of street food. During the weekends, we would decide to take a walk at the Hangang River, ordering fried chicken when we finally stopped to take a rest and sipping on icy cold cider to beat the heat of the up and coming summer.

From the time spent together, I started seeing him past his looks and realised that it was only a bonus that the Almighty had probably blessed him with. True enough, he was a very sweet and loving boy, putting his friends and family first before himself. He was not much of a talker, but his company was enough to make one feel comfort and ease, and one could easily talk to him about one’s problems. He would not interrupt and would simply stare at you and listen to what you would have to say before giving his input.

He was also caring, making sure that I was always okay whenever we went out. If I made a statement saying that I was hungry or thirsty to no one in particular, he would come back with food and drinks in hand, to my surprise. Also, he would tend to pick up my favourite foods when I was simply craving for them and occasionally treated me to almost everything. Of course, there were many days (after much protests) and we would go dutch, but we always shared with one another anyway, whether it was food, thoughts or simply casual conversation about everything and anything under the sun.

The months passed and despite the stresses of our CSATs, we had managed to pull through, encouraging one another to keep pressing on. We met each other more often during that period because his boss had given the final year high school students a month’s break to study and consolidate all the material that they possibly needed to sit for the “most important examination of our lives”. Jihoon was a little less confident than usual, but we became each other’s support system and hoped for the best. When I could not sleep, he would pull off all-nighters with me, or come to my place with energy bars and drinks (not like my parents minded since they love him so much).

Hence, there came the day when my friend had convinced me to confess to him. It was a gamble that I was taking, but she said that I was already “too far gone to be saved” and it was up to me now to decide what I wanted to do with my feelings.

“Go big or go home.” That was what she always told me.

Unfortunately, I got a call and ran late due to the fact that my part time job employer had arranged for an interview and there I was, not exactly showing up in the most proper attire for the interview but I had no choice. I mean, who would not want to be the photography intern for Cosmopolitan Korea? It was crazy if I wanted to give it up because this was not an opportunity to be missed and hence, I threw all caution to the wind and showed up in smart casual attire. The interviewers were not surprised, and said that I was probably the most simply dressed one for the day.

By the time I was done with my interview, changed and ready to go with my plans to confess, it was already sunset and the area was bound to bounce back to life at night time. It did not help that it was a weekend and it was nearing Winter soon, explaining the reason why most people found themselves frequenting bars more often due to the cold. I had arrived in the district and tried my best to put on a brave front, even though there was numerous catcalling from some clearly drunken men down the bars that I had walked past.

To my shock and horror, there was a sign outside Angelinus Coffee and it read,

“We are having a staff meeting today and hence, Angelinus Coffee House is closed earlier for the day. Do come back again tomorrow and we apologise for any inconvenience caused. If you have any enquiries, please do not hesitate to contact 82-445-354-92! If you happen to be looking for anyone (why would you?), he will be done by 10pm. Thank you very much!


Angelinus Coffee House team”

It was an adorable note and I had a feeling that it had to be written by one of the baristas, just by the tone of it. It was already 9pm, so it won’t hurt to wait another hour right?

Hence, I took refuge outside the door and watched the world go by. I saw a couple of cars come and go, with some of them blasting music so loud that one could clearly hear the bass and the beat of the music. There was no way that I would have walked back to the line of bars, even if it was more lively and less secluded.

Little did I know that I was actually being followed from the row of bars and I was soon confronted by 3 young men dressed in suits, looking like they were barely 25 and reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol; it was revolting to say the least.

“Isn’t this the girl who played so terribly hard to get just now?” One man spoke (or more like slurred) and stepped even closer, looking down at me with clearly hazed eyes and a drunken mind that could not think straight, “What about you accompany us back tonight? We could have soooo much fun and you would never forget a night like this.”

“Thank you for the kind offer,” I replied sarcastically, “but I am waiting for a friend and he will be out soon. Leave me alone please.”

I tried to steel myself but I could feel the chills down my spine and my hands were starting to become clammy and uncomfortable as they started to sweat. At this point, I did not know whether my pupils were actually shaking because of the fear, but I definitely tried to hold my ground, standing firm. This was not a Korean drama, and I definitely did not believe there would be a knight in shining armour coming anytime soon.

Little did I expect a push to my head and a relatively light slap and I could tell that the man was livid with anger. His friends looked like they could not give two hoots about the situation and only laughed, before one of them said, “I suggest you come with us if you actually do want to see the sunrise tomorrow.”

And I soon found myself being gripped by the wrist and dragged away from the cafe. I tried, I really did, to break free from his grasp but he was way too strong for me.

“LET GO!” I shouted, but he only gripped my hand harder and I will definitely not be surprised if I found my wrist bruised tomorrow with the shape of a palm and 5 fingers.

“Hey!” A familiar voice shouted from across the road and I heard quick footsteps behind me, almost like the person was running, “What do you think you are doing?”

The men turned around, and they refused to let go of me still, but I turned around only to be faced with an angered and stern Jihoon. It was dark, but the streetlights did shine a little on his face, and he was found to be staring daggers into the souls of the men with his fists and jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh look who we have here. It’s a kid and a teenager too! Haven’t you learnt how to respect your elders, you young and insolent boy? She’s ours now and she’s gonna bring us so much entertainment tonight. Pity you can’t join because you would have to go home before momma scolds you.”

The rest of the guys were ready to go after Jihoon, but he clearly had enough backup to take down the 3 men when 10 other boys walked out curiously (looking confused and lost for some), but stared down at the men with the same intensity that Jihoon had initially, or perhaps some were even scarier and more intimidating after when they grasped the situation; one example being Seongwoo, known to be a charmer with the older ladies, but is not someone to be taken advantage of.

“Listen punk, in case you are wayyy too drunk to think,” He spoke with authority in his voice while grabbing the man’s collar, “We are definitely not appreciative of the fact that your lackey peed in front of our cafe. What did your parents teach you and how dare you waste your parents’ money? Also, how could you even have the audacity to touch a friend’s girl?”

I was a little surprised by the last question, but if I was smart, I would not complain and protest, standing quiet but ready to run when the situation allowed for it.

The men were clearly shaken by now as I felt the grip on my wrist loosen but he only gave a smug smile, before he attempted to use his leg and possibly attack him while his hands are not free. However, Seongwoo had quick reflexes and avoided the attack, before taking his wrist and pinning his arm on the man’s back. The man screamed in pain while his lackeys ran away and by then, he had already let go of me due to the pain that Seongwoo had just inflicted.

“I could break your arm if I wanted to, but I love this place a little too much to end up in jail for something that I did not do. Hence, I suggest you run along instead of being so stubborn and wanting to take us all down. I can warn you that there is absolutely no way in hell that you will be able to do that. If I see you again, God knows what I would do but I guess we would not want to find out, would we?”

And he ended off by pushing the man away with the latter running along, cursing under his breath as he turned his head occasionally to look at the team of baristas.

“Are you okay?? Did he hurt you? Did he do anything… you know… illegal?? I’m so sorry Y/N. You should have told me that you were coming and I would have come to see you straight away!” Jihoon asked with concern laced in his voice, dropping the facade of a fierce and angered teenager to the usual gentleness.

I chuckled sheepishly, still a little shaken from the entire incident before I found myself pulled into a hug. Jihoon’s grip was firm but secure, as his arms wrapped around my entire being with his head resting on my shoulder. I did not know what to do with my hands initially, but I wrapped my arms around him too, reciprocating the hug.

“I can’t believe that something dangerous almost happened to you, just like Kwonhyeop hyung. I’m glad you are still alive and well and you are not hurt. I cannot bear to lose you and what would I do if I did not come out of the meeting in time to notice a damsel in distress? What if—”

“Hey hey,” I responded, while patting his back, “I’m here now right? Stop worrying. I’m fine. I truly am, except with the fact that I might end up with a bruise on my wrist tomorrow from the jerk’s grip but I am okay, Jihoon. Thank you for coming out in time?”

“You don’t get it Y/N.” Jihoon said curtly, before letting me go and making eye contact with me this time around. His stare was a little intense but one knew that it was of no harmful intent. I looked at him in confusion, and raised my eyebrows, tilting my head to wonder why he would be so worked up all of a sudden.

“I like you Y/N. I really do. I’ve noticed you ever since you walked into the cafe for the first time and I made it a point to come every day at one point so that I could see you again and perhaps get the chance to know you a little better. You were a nice, gentle and sweet girl, and was equivalent to a ray of sunshine. You listened to me, tolerated my playful antics and accepted me for who I am, despite my difficult past. I did not plan to tell you this, but I was the one responsible for all the drinks you woke up to when you fell asleep at the cafe, except that I asked my co-workers to bring them to you so that you would not think I was a hopeless romantic or anything—”

With that, I mustered the courage to give him a quick kiss on the lips and he was stunned with his eyes open wide, while I was tempted to run as fast as I could from the embarrassment that came shortly after and I was grateful for the fact that it was in dimly lit alley so I could hide it well, but he pulled me back and kissed me again; longer this time. His lips were soft, a little chapped, but it was as if we fitted like a puzzle piece, like we were made for each other.

“WOAH. I didn’t come here to the back to see this. Congratulations kid, I’m so proud of you!” A voice was heard, and Jihoon broke away quickly, glaring at Jaehwan who pulled off a sheepish grin.

“Please continue and pretend that I’m not here. I don’t wanna be the cause of the anti-climax.”

“Hyung, you ARE the anti-climax.”

“Oh? Oops, didn’t mean to but I’m so glad this happened Y/N, he would not shut up talking about you. If he put all that description and sentiments in a book, it would be thicker than the entire Harry Potter series combined.”

Jihoon said nothing, but only stared at Jaehwan with the best death glare that he could muster, but Jaehwan only laughed a maniac-like laugh and walked back, saying, “Geez, calm down lover boy. I’m just confirming that the feelings are mutual.”

I laughed heartily at Jaehwan’s comment but proceeded to hug Jihoon tightly again and he did the same.

“I wanted to confess to you actually, and hence I brought these for you.” I said, and showed him the contents of the brown paper bag that I had been carrying for the longest time, consisting of my favourite soft baked chocolate chip cookies and my love letter that I had painstakingly written the night before.

“Awh Y/N, you shouldn’t have, but I do have something for you too. I was supposed to ask you out tomorrow actually, but the florist called and said that she would be closed tomorrow so I had no choice but to pick my bouquet and teddy bear up today. I hope they have not died yet.”

“They are still well and alive!! And by the way, it’s really pretty.” Another voice was heard, before laughter ensued and Jihoon slapped his forehead before looking back at his co-workers.

“Seriously guys, why do you have to ruin EVERYTHING for me?”

They only shrugged their shoulders, before getting excited all over again, as if they had never seen a couple get together before. In fact, they probably felt like they were watching a drama in real time and I only said, “Guys, we do feel a little bit uncomfortable so do you mind giving us a little time? We will join you, don’t worry!”

“See Jihoonie, all it needed was a little kindness. See you Y/N!”

“How did you even do that?” Jihoon asked and I shrugged my shoulders with a mischievous smile and all he did was laugh, ruffling my hair again for the nth time since I had met him. With that, he put his arm around me and walked me into the cafe, opening the door and trying his best to be a “gentleman”.

“Come on, get inside and I’ll prepare something warm to drink. Perhaps we can consider this our very first official date? I’ll prepare some hot chocolate or whatever you’d like for the both of us and we can go to the park to catch the stars, don’t you think?”

Missed Part 1? Fret not because it’s right here! 


Dance Night AU

YoonSeok Social Media AU

Yoongi is a worker at a local music shop. Namjoon, his boss, decided to hire Hoseok. Hoseok is an underground dancer barely making ends meat, and ends up seeking part time employment. (1/?)

Yesterday our recent college graduate emptied his apartment and brought his stuff back to my house. OK, he can still call it home. For now.

This morning he was uncharacteristically awake, chipper, and dressed before noon. He has his first job interview! I was outside mowing the lawn when he asked me to check his tie. Ella, with her grass-green paws, ran at him for a hug and attention. He ducked back inside before she could soil his suit.

We talked a bit about the interview. Currently he works part-time at the same employer but he’s walking in today like he’s fresh off the street. I didn’t have to tell him it’s not wise to assume he’s a front-runner because of the other employment.

I knew a guy once who presumptuously thought he was a shoo-in. He had a low level part time job at an employer. After graduating he figured he was the prince and the throne was just waiting for his butt. It took two years working at a less desirable place to remind him he wasn’t an heir to that job. He was successful after than penance.

My sister-in-law interviews job applicants. She told me of one young man who checked text messages during his short-lived interview. My son knows the story. He’s leaving his phone in his car today.

I hope this interview goes well. Of course I won’t make assumptions myself about the outcome but I think my son is going in well prepared. There are other good candidates he said. He’s taking it seriously but won’t be crushed if this first one doesn’t work out.

Hey.. another rant, I guess. I’m sorry in advance. Very sleep deprived and emotional wreck xD

I think one thing parents don’t realise sometimes is that when they make an international move, they have very little regard how it impacts their kids. That’s what’s always happened with me and my sister. My parents…. nothings ever enough for them. They’re never satisfied.

We could never be in a place permanently, and so never felt home. Always had to make new friends, new schools, new lives - leaving behind people we love and having to move forward.

I can say the move from the UK to Australia has been the hardest. I had to say goodbye to my beloved friends, a university I loved, a job I was happy working at with good money - a life I had made for myself. That was all taken away when my family grew their money away on a house they couldn’t afford to keep. For what? An ego boost??

So yes, we move to Australia - yes it’s beautiful here. But as a holiday pace rather than a complete home of residence. Making connections here is stupendous difficult. Not only is everything far away, but people generally don’t want anything to do with you unless you’ve pretty much grown up together and gone to high school with them.

Now you’re probably thinking - couldn’t I just move back? Boy! Do I wish I could! If I could right now, I’d do it in a heart beat. You see, my parents are VERY over bearing, and like their rules. It’s their way of the high way. How many times have I heard “don’t like it then go on the fucking streets, miserable cunt” from my dad. Mum just takes with crap, despite everyday complaining about her husband - my father. They’re not even happy being here. They want to move AGAIN! Like you haven’t ruined my life enough.

Being on the other side of the world, away from your best friends, and people you love to death, is very damn difficult. And getting the “I’m going to disown you” bullshit is not an encouraging factor. It makes life very depressing.

What’s happened since we lived here in Australia? Mums had a stroke, dads had pneumonia, I’ve had shit from my university’s belittling me because of mental health, bullying at social clubs at university, casual/ part time employment is ridiculous here… it’s pretty shit really.

But Australia is my “parents home”. They live in the past in their memories of what Australia was like, and so projected their thoughts onto us. So our opinion? Heh.. what opinion. It doesn’t fucking matter anyways. They just tell us about their youth days here… and live in the past. Literally mum is talking to me about my days as a 5 year old, and why I’m unhappy when I wasn’t there - like that really matters now..

And despite it being a small scale thing - my 3 weeks in England were Deusn were freaking amazing. I was happier in 3 weeks than I have been in 2 years.

I told my mum about this; how happy I was in the UK - she didn’t like it. Telling me how ungrateful I am; and doing that guilt tripping, manipulative thing parents do to their kids. Dad is just an asshole about it all.

Ellie’s at least happier as her partner is with her here. But if he can’t get the partnership visa, then she’s back to the uk with him.

Just… parents, before you go about looking for places to booth your ego, or have image, just think what it does to your kids..

Urgh.. I don’t know. I’m sorry… I just.. *sigh* I don’t know. Im sorry.

I’m going to stop now.
Part-time work on the rise, wages fall in crisis-hit Greece-survey

Part-time workers and the hard-core unemployed have almost tripled during Greece’s debt crisis despite a recent drop in the jobless rate, the largest labour union GSEE said on Wednesday.

Hundreds of thousands of people have lost their jobs in Greece since it tumbled into crisis in 2010. With one in five now unemployed, others have lost almost a third of their incomes due to austerity measures and labour reforms agreed under three international bailouts.

Unemployment, at 21 percent in the second quarter, has decreased but it is still the euro zone’s highest. Unregistered work and part-time contract jobs have increased as businesses are desperate to cut costs.

“The situation in the labour market has improved in the first half of the year … but a series of quality indices create concerns,” GSEE’s research institute said in a report.

About 267,000 workers are currently in part time work, from 99,000 in 2008, a year before the crisis broke out, the institute said. Apart from long-term unemployed, discouraged jobseekers, who have given up on actively seeking work, have increased to 109,000 from 37,000 in the same period, it added.

Good god, just how old *am* I?

As a professional genealogist and local historian, I have come across some weird things in the forgotten pages of history. I first dove into genealogy because I wanted to know where I came from. Not as in, I wanted to know what countries my ancestors immigrated to America from. Rather, as in, I wanted to know where I as an individual came from. My memory begins fourteen years ago, when I was about eighteen years old. Prior to that point in time is complete amnesia.

I remember awakening in a hospital room that seemed too white. I studied my surroundings—the white walls, white drapes, white tile floor, white bed sheets—all the same shade of white, no less. I felt calm, as though all of this were normal. When a nurse came in and noticed I had woken up, she asked me what my name was, how old I was, and where I lived. I knew none of the answers. With a concerned expression, she asked me if I knew what year it was, or if I knew who the president was, or if I knew what state I was in. I continued to draw blanks.

I asked her why my body was so bandaged up. She explained to me that I was in a hospital in Ohio, and I had been struck by a vehicle in a hit-and-run. There had been no identification on my person. They had been waiting for me to come out of my coma for the last three days, hoping I could tell them who I was. I apologized for not being of any help, and then felt silly—as if I had any control over my lack of memory.

As the nurse turned to leave and fetch the doctor, I found myself blurting out, as if my mouth were controlled by another person: “Bramwell Lindemann!”

The nurse faced me. “Bramwell Lindemann? Is that your name?”

I paused. That didn’t feel right. “No, I am pretty sure that’s not my name. I don’t know why I said that.” I knew the name must have meant something to me before the accident, but I didn’t know what.

The doctor came in and examined me. I heard him say, “Caucasian male, approximately eighteen years of age”. After a litany of tests, the doctor contacted the police department to inform them that I was now conscious and speaking. Two officers came and took a very unhelpful statement from me regarding the accident. When they learned of my amnesia, they searched through countless missing person reports, but no matches were found. Though my story was mentioned two nights in a row on the local news, and the anchors asked anyone who recognized my photo to call the hospital and claim me, no one did.

After recuperating in the hospital for a few more days, the staff declared me fit to leave. I wandered out into the street, with no name, no wallet, no money, no home, and no knowledge of my surroundings. They called me John Doe in the hospital, so that is the name I have stuck with since the year 2000.

I lived on the streets for a couple of weeks, then moved into a shelter and secured part-time employment. I soon found a small apartment. I seemed to have an excellent grasp on math, reading, and science—indicating that I had already attended high school. However, with no identity to prove it, I had to start over. I earned my GED, and then found enough scholarships and student loans to put myself through college. A few years ago, I married the love of my life—Daphne. A true testament to her love for me, she insisted on taking my legal surname, Doe—even at the expense of having a name with goofy alliteration. In climbing the social ladder and building a normal and successful life, I had an advantage over many of the homeless friends I had made in my younger years, in that I didn’t seem to have any addictions or major health problems, other than lingering soreness from the hit-and-run.

While I managed well without knowing my true origins, the question always nagged me in the back of my mind. One day, I saw an Internet ad for The first name I searched for on that website was the name I had blurted out in the hospital room: “Bramwell Lindemann”. No exact hits. There were some results for individuals named “B. Lindemann,” but upon further investigation, each of them turned out to be a “Balthasar” or a “Bertha” or a “Bryant”. My heart leapt when I found a record for a “Bram Lindeman,” but I soon found that this individual’s full first name was “Abram”.

Once I started, I could not stop. I expanded my research to the offline world, and found myself at the library studying past issues of local newspapers for any clues as to my origins, and going to area schools and looking through nearby high school yearbooks for any photos that resembled me. I became adept at navigating old records, and friends began to ask me to research their family history for them. This turned into a full-time business for me, but I have never stopped searching for my own origins.

I have even taken DNA tests for Y-DNA, mitochondrial DNA, and ethnicity—these tests matched me up with a handful of other users and claim that, based on our DNA similarities, we are approximately sixth cousins or so (indicating that my 5xgreat grandparents, whoever they were, were probably also the ancestors of the other user). However, these DNA databases have never pinpointed a close cousin of mine. Considering that, barring any inbreeding, every person has one hundred twenty eight 5xgreat grandparents (because you have 2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great grandparents, 16 great great grandparents, and so on), determining which of these 128 ancestors is the one I share with each of these other users is impossible.

Every so often throughout the years, I have made a post on this or that Internet genealogy forum, asking that if anyone has ever come across a “Bramwell Lindemann” in their research, would they please get in touch with me. I had never gotten a response. In fits of discouragement, I would go back months later and delete these unnoticed posts of mine from the forums.

The humorous irony of someone who doesn’t know their own name, let alone their ancestry, becoming an expert on other people’s history, has never been lost on my wife, friends, and colleagues.

A month ago, I went out on a limb and made another post to a forum asking about any information on “Bramwell Lindemann”. The next morning, I received an email with the title, “Bramwell Lindemann”. Though I had just gotten out of bed and had not even had my coffee, every one of my senses became alert in an instant.

The body of the message read as follows: “Dear researcher, I saw on [forum name] that you had inquired about Bramwell Lindemann. In my late grandmother’s box of family history documents, there were several photographs with names written on the backs that I have never been able to place. On the back of one of these old photographs is written what seems to be the name ‘Bramwell Lindemann,’ although it is written sloppily. I have scanned the photograph and attached the image file to this email. Perhaps this can be of assistance to you, and perhaps you can tell me more about who this man was. My grandmother was born and raised in Vinton, Iowa, so the fellow in this photograph may have also lived there or nearby. Sincerely, [name redacted to protect his privacy]”

My fingers trembling, I clicked the attachment and loaded up the scanned image of the photograph. As the top rows of pixels loaded, I noticed the aged brownish-yellowness of the photo. By the coloring alone, it was probably a hundred years old. The rows of pixels continued to load downward. The man’s hair was neat and oiled. As his forehead, then his eyes, then his nose, and his chin came into view, my jaw lowered. It was me. Or rather, someone who looked identical to me. This man could be my great grandfather. The resemblance was mind-blowing.

I replied to the sender, lavishing thanks upon him for sending the photograph. Then, I put down everything and booked a flight to Des Moines for the next day. After arriving in Des Moines, I trekked straight to the Iowa State Historical Society Library and set to work looking for Mr. Lindemann. I first searched all the county death records in Benton County (where the town of Vinton is located) and all surrounding counties for Bramwell Lindemann. It seemed to be a common last name in that area, but no Bramwell Lindemann could be found having died in the area.

I then pulled out case after case of microfilm containing issues of newspapers from Vinton and the surrounding area. I spent hours rolling through issue after issue of microfilmed newspaper, and I began to lose hope. Not much time left until the library closed. That’s when I saw it. A small newspaper blurb, buried in a wall of text in a June 1900 edition. The name in the text caught my eye, and wouldn’t let go: “B. Lindemann Kills Wife and Child,” read the tiny headline.

The article stated: “Bramwell Lindemann, local farmer, 23 years of age, walked into the police station Monday to confess to the murder of his wife of 5 years, Catherine, and their 3-year-old son, Quentin. He stated to police that he revived from a daze to find himself covered in blood and digging through his wife’s and son’s entrails with a knife. He claimed not to remember what had happened, and no longer remembered his name or who he was, but said he knew he had done something wicked, and set out to find a police station to confess so that justice might be done. Mr. Lindemann was taken under arrest pending further investigation.”

Chills ran down my spine. This man from over a century ago, who bore a striking resemblance to me, also suffered from an inexplicable case of amnesia. Perhaps this man really is my ancestor. Perhaps there is some genetic trait I inherited from him that causes these strange bouts of amnesia. However, the fact that Bramwell awoke from his amnesia to find himself mutilating the corpses of his loved ones disturbed me.

I pressed onward through the newspaper editions, finding an article a month later stating that Bramwell had been sentenced to 7 years in the Anamosa State Prison. The judge explained the relatively lenient sentencing as being due to the fact that Bramwell seemed to have committed the act in a moment of temporary insanity and appeared genuinely penitent. I jumped ahead seven years in the old newspapers to 1907, when Bramwell would have been released. Sure enough, there was one miniscule mention of him in the “Local Gossip” section of the paper: “B. Lindemann, formerly of this town, was recently released from Anamosa. In order to try to forget his sordid past, he has opted to legally change his name to Lamar Smith and moved northwest to conduct his farming near the town of Mallard.”

I sat back in my chair, stunned for a moment. I had finally found Bramwell Lindemann, and furthermore, discovered what had become of him. I could not stop just yet. I found the town of Mallard in Palo Alto County and set to work researching that county’s records for Lamar Smith. I found him in the 1910 federal census records, his name slightly misspelled. He was a single farmer, and claimed to be only 20 years old. That didn’t seem right. He was said to have been about 23 years old when he was arrested in 1900, meaning he was born about 1877. That means he should be about 33 years old in this 1910 census. I went forward a decade and found Lamar Smith in the same area again in the 1920 census, still single, still a farmer. He still claimed to be 20 years old in this census. By now, he should have been 43—there is no way he could have passed for a mere 20. Why was he giving these reports to the census takers? I did not find Lamar Smith in the area in the 1930 federal census records, but there was no record of him dying and being buried in the region either. Again, I returned to the microfilmed newspapers.

Sure enough, I found an edition of an area newspaper from 1925, which read: “LOCAL FARMER’S FAMILY BRUTALLY MURDERED—Ed Anliker, farmer east of town, awoke to a gruesome sight in his home yesterday morning. His neighbor, Mr. Lamar Smith, had stabbed Mr. Anliker’s wife and four children to death in their sleep. When Mr. Smith was found, he was consuming the blood and innards of his victims. After being taken into custody by the sheriff, Mr. Smith had no explanation for his actions, and furthermore claimed to have forgotten who and where he was. Mr. Smith has no known relatives in the area. He began farming here nearly twenty years ago, and while neighbors say he is a peculiar man who kept to himself, he was always hailed as a kindly and youthful man, who seems as young today as he is remembered being two decades ago. His crimes bring extreme shock and sorrow to the community.”

Below the article was printed a grainy black and white photograph, with the caption, “L. Smith”. The man was definitely Bramwell Lindemann, and indeed, it appeared that he had not aged a day.

Pressing onward through the newspapers, I discovered Lamar Smith having been sentenced to 30 years, once again to be served in Anamosa. By now, the library was closing. I got a hotel room in Des Moines for the night, and the next day took a rental car to Anamosa to investigate their old records.

Lamar Smith, it seems, had been released on good behavior after only 25 years. After leaving prison in 1950, he disappeared from the records. I scoured and and other research websites. Countless “Lamar Smiths” flooded my results, but one stood out. A 1950 newspaper from Spokane, Washington said that a young local man named Lamar Smith was seen wallowing in the blood of a homeless man he had murdered. When confronted by a passerby, Lamar took on a blank and confused facial expression and ran away. His whereabouts were not known.

At this point, the trail for Lamar Smith went dead cold. I could find no further reference to a Lamar Smith matching what I knew about this man. I took a flight home, feeling defeated. I spent days trying every research method I could think of in order to locate what had happened to Lamar Smith after fleeing the murder scene in Spokane, but I came up empty.

Earlier this week, inspiration struck. A different angle occurred to me. Using specific keywords, I searched newspapers on for articles about a man who “murdered” and then suffered “amnesia”. I found one. The article was from a 1975 edition of a Sacramento, California newspaper. The murderer, who gave no name for himself, was described as a transient hippie who had the appearance of being on some kind of drugs, but tested negative for all known drugs. The murderer had wandered into a campground on the outskirts of the city and slaughtered a family of four with his bare hands, then partially devoured some of the remains. He claimed to suffer from amnesia. Next to the newspaper article was a mugshot photograph of the man: bearded, long-haired, shirtless, shoulders draped in stereotypical beaded necklaces…but that face. I pressed my thumb over the beard, and focused on the forehead, eyes, and nose. There was no mistaking it. This man was a twin of Bramwell Lindemann, of Lamar Smith…and of me.

A subsequent issue of the newspaper stated that the hippie killer had been sentenced to 25 years in prison, and had been processed under the temporary name “John Doe,” until his true identity could be ascertained. I contacted the prison and inquired about this John Doe. The institution’s records indicated this man had been released from prison in June of 2000. I requested a copy of the man’s last mug shot, and after much jumping through hoops, finally received it in the mail. John Doe’s last prison mug shot, taken in June of 2000, showed the same man pictured in the 1975 newspaper. He was now clean shaven and had not aged a day. Without the facial hair, he looked even younger than before, if that was possible.

I stared at the photograph. I stared into the mirror. Then back to the photograph. I was looking at a picture not of some random criminal or some ancient ancestor of mine. I was looking at a picture of me, exactly as I looked 14 years ago, at the time of the accident. Exactly as I look right now.

Am I the Sacramento murderer? Am I Lamar Smith? Am I Bramwell Lindemann? If so, then just how goddamn old am I? I had always chalked up my lack of age marks to healthy diet and exercise. What if there is some other power at work? Why can’t I age? What happens to me every 25 years that causes me to commit brutal crimes and then wipe my memory clean? What really transpired before I lost my memory in the year 2000? If I have connected the dots correctly, then what will happen to me in the year 2025? Is my wife safe around me? Do I tell her what I have learned? Am I going crazy?

It seems too surreal to be true, but I have decided I must get to the bottom of this. I must find out where Bramwell Lindemann (where I?) originated. How far can this rabbit hole possibly go? I will keep you updated on what I discover.

EDIT: Here’s the original story on /r/nosleep

Police Officer!Kuroo AUs:
  • Meeting an annoyed Tsukishima after his place of (part-time) employment (maybe a gas station or maybe a corner store) had been robbed. He’s nearing his end of schooling, finals and the works are upon him, Tsukishima was not in the mood for that. So Kuroo takes his statement, trying not to snicker at the annoyance dripping from his tone as he explains word for word what happened
    • “He was about 5’6”. Big nose, pale skin. Blue eyes, brown hair. Some undercut looking thing. He had a hammer, which was fucking stupid, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with that shit. He wanted the money in the till, I asked if he wanted change as well—he didn’t find that amusing.” (Note: my boss while I was working at a gas station asked that very thing when he was being robbed. It was one of my favourite stories of his. He was a sassy dude.)
  • Kuroo has been working a lot of shitty hours, only really able to make it home twice that week and he spent those five hours that he was home passed out in bed before leaving again. Tsukishima only knew that he had been home because of the notes Kuroo left on the fridge saying that he was sorry he couldn’t stay longer, and that he missed him. Tsukishima shakes his head, he knew that long hours were something that a police officer had to put up with and he knew that before even getting into a relationship with the man. So, one night after work he stops in still in his veterinarian uniform to bring him some take out and coffee. The other officers tease Kuroo about “the wife” bringing him food, but the grin on Kuroo’s face when he sees Tsukishima is priceless.
  • Kuroo gets shot on the job while Tsukishima is writing a final exam (last year of his Master’s Program) and when he turns his phone on he’s flooded with messages from Kuroo’s phone and his work mates (‘cause Tsukishima has a lot of their numbers. Even the Police Chief whom he calls and tells him to give Kuroo a day off every so often ‘cause Kuroo tends to “forget”. You can never say that Kuroo doesn’t love his job). Kuroo is fine, for the most part, which Tsukishima finds out after rushing to the hospital. The surgery went fine, the shots (yes, multiple) missed any major organs and he’s been moved to his own private room—yes Tsukishima wants to see him, thanks. 
  • Tsukishima has a kink. Kuroo laughs so fucking hard when he learns that not ONLY does Tsukishima have a thing for handcuffs, but he also is majorly turned on by the man in his uniform. “Tsukki, babe, this is just a regular outfit. How do you expect me to get ready for work when you’re constantly looking at me like that?” (“Shut up Tetsu.”)

oh my god. I just got a call from my boss saying that they want to change my part-time employment to a permanent employment!!!

to all the people saying I would never be able to get a job: fuck you

Keeping Calm in the Face of Success

Many, many years ago (nine, I believe), I was in college and practicing witchcraft in between writing long papers. I was initially secretive about my interest in magick when I arrived at school, but over the years it became apparent that being a witch was only a very minor oddity on campus, and no one really minded too much. 

So, I gradually opened up about it, began giving Tarot readings in exchange for barter or small amounts of cash, and grew willing to discuss magick if asked. There were several other practitioners on campus and a few more amongst the locals, so I was in (mostly) good company. Occasionally, (as usually happens), someone who knew next to nothing about magick would seek me out after hearing I had an interest in it, and ask me to “do a spell” for them. 

One such person was a girl I’ll call Amy. We were watching Evangelion or something one night, and the topic came up. She mentioned the abysmal results she was getting from her job search, and asked if I could do a spell to help her find gainful part-time employment while she continued her studies. I told her that, while I myself wouldn’t cast a spell for her, I’d give her information and instructions to do one herself, and help her arrange for the supplies. 

She was pretty desperate (college is like that), and was amenable to this, so I explained a simple money spell and gave her the ingredients to make a charm bag. I offered to be there when she cast it, but ultimately she decided to do it alone, so I wished her well and waited to hear about her experience with magick and to see if she would, indeed, get a job.

A few weeks later, she came to me absolutely panicked, looking quite terrified. I asked what was wrong, and she explained that she had received two job offers since casting the spell. I congratulated her, but she still looked terrified, and I couldn’t figure out why. Eventually, she started describing how “spooked” she was by the spell’s results and how she had been “shaking” when she got the job offers by phone because it was all “just so weird and creepy.”

I was pretty flabbergasted by this, and all I could really say was, “Well, aren’t you glad it worked? You got a job…” She shrugged and said something about how the job was great, but it frightened her that “magick does stuff.” She also said that she had resolved to “never do anymore spells” because “it’s just out of hand.” I pressed for more details, asking if something besides the job offers had happened to worry her, but no. This girl literally cast a spell, and then panicked, not because it backfired, but because it worked exactly as intended.

This story would be an interesting curiosity had the same scenario not appeared in my life multiple times over the years, both before and long after this particular incident. Heck, a similar thing happened a few months ago when I coaxed a student into doing his first Tarot reading for another person - he started going on about how “spooky” it was when the reading was accurate, and briefly considered abandoning Tarot altogether. 

This sort of thing happens almost formulaically, and seems to be a quasi-regular occurrence regardless of what sort of magick or practice is involved. Someone does a spell, reading, or working or whatever, only to find it successful, at which point panic ensues.

 Why? It’s not something I, personally, really understand, but there could be multiple reasons for it. I’m guessing some of these people, taking their first tentative steps into the world of the occult, likely have preexisting worldviews that might conflict with the notion of magick and divination. They attempt these things anyways out of curiosity, and are fairly open-minded compared to most (who’d never dream of doing such a thing). 

Yet, when they face success, it’s a serious blow to whatever their initial worldview was, often in a way they couldn’t possibly have anticipated, so there’s a moment of scrambling to rewrite their personal perspective in order to compensate. Another possibility, too, is that at least some of these people are exploring these things not out of any desire for results or knowledge, but for aesthetic and social reasons, and never expected them to work - again, leading to the moment of panic.

To me, as I said, it’s a real puzzler. I’m not going to lie - I did have a “Oh my gosh, this is real?!” moment (several, in fact), early on in my explorations, but I recovered from it much more quickly and it certainly only made me more interested. The thought of quitting my experiments because magick and divination were “too spooky” never occurred to me. I think this is just due to a mundane personality quirk on my part - I’ve always been pretty gung-ho about exploring new things, and good at adapting. Sometimes, that’s a strong suit, as I think it was here, but I do know situations where a more reserved and less fluid worldview would be.

I think we can kind of see it as a bit of a test, though. We all react differently to new information about the nature of reality. Yes, some people panic; others just get curious. It’s just part of the diversity of human thought and perspectives. But recovering from that initial moment of panic or harnessing that curiosity (or whatever other emotion ensues) is absolutely crucial to success in witchcraft, magick, divination, or any kind of occult work. I rarely go around claiming something’s a requirement for practicing magick/witchcraft, but tentatively, I want to say that this is. Why? Well, if you shut down at the first sign that “the spooky stuff” is real, you’re probably not going to end up exploring it further, you’ll be shutting down one avenue of attainment, and you probably won’t have further successes because you won’t even try. 

“Keep calm when you succeed!” is thus good advice for any witch or magician, but it’s easier said than done, and I can offer no easy answers. I guess my message to witchlings and budding mages who may be experiencing this would be to, yes, step back from magick for a bit, and explore what about the experience is causing you to react in this way. This naturally means evaluating your own worldview as accurately and carefully as possible, but yes, it can also mean ultimately concluding you don’t know and powering through by continuing to practice. This, of course, only applies if you want to continue magick - there’s no shame in taking up something else, instead.

At the expense of my wallet I’m torn with staying part time with my current employer waiting for a full time position to open up that I can apply for or possibly leaving to pursue other things. In reality, I don’t want to leave but I can’t keep struggling like this much longer because its not getting me anywhere.

I’m in part time employment but if Taylor invited me to anything and I was working I would literally just walk out of work I would lose my job for Taylor Alison Swift…