Sometimes it’s like I’ve lived a thousand lives in a thousand places. I’m born. I live. I die. And always, there’s the Doctor.
Make it messy.
Often, when we write, we think about what’s there. It’s new and shiny in your mind, so that often translates to new and shiny on the page. But you need to scratch it up, throw some dirt on it. Make it used. Give it scars.
Do the same with your characters. It’s our scars that make us real, that prove we’ve been in this world.
Hand-Tech, Concept for a new kind of device
A technological device wearable like a glove, that uses gestures as interface.
The fabric is woven with special sensors and mini projectors that read the hand’s movements and translate them into practical functions.
Using a sequence of gestures it is possible to take pictures, make videos and display information.
The glove can also translate the sign language used by deaf people (manual communication) into sound pattern (spoken language).
Hand-tech expands the communicative power of the sign language converting an iconic gesture into a concrete action.
Powerful image of regret…probably closer to the way the character felt at the end of the real version, versus the Disney depiction.
I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control. I was on the pill until he found them in my purse.
I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem.
Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo.
When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to.
And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe.
I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy.
I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.Curious Georgiana (via ifonechitiri-g)