Yes, I kill people who piss me off…

IN MY BOOKS

I didn’t think the cliche was true either…but here we are.

I’ve rolled my eyes at comments from authors smugly laughing about converting an IRL arch nemesis into a fictional character they could kill off. I thought it was lame. Then I realised I’ve done it too. Throughout the yet-to-be-released Darkrose Novels, things have meaning. Numbers in the novels usually mean something to me. Some names/variations of character names also do. Sometimes those characters meet an unfortunate end…But I’ve never written a specific character to be the Jurassic Park goat so that I can feel amused or avenged.

I know if a character has to die to drive something in the story etc, but I haven’t written a character based on someone I knew to kill off,  just to torture, for them to live a meaningless book-existence then meet a horrible demise . Support characters usually have a place-holder kind of name that suits the way they look (in my head) until I’ve got the entire feel of who they are or what they’re going to do. Once I know they’re an insufferable, evil POS, I consider naming them something to do with a similar person I know IRL. Not the other way around.

I’m not a very vengeful person, because I’m also lazy….and…

When authors deliberately create a character to serve a personal vendetta…the story usually pays for it. You know when you’re watching a B (and lower) grade horror films… It’s entertaining, but you know who the background characters are and who’s probably going to be yeeted first. Your audience can tell these things too. Otherwise why didn’t you waste more of your word count/screen time on actually showcasing the character and letting people get to know them? AND if you do decide to do that, thinking you can dupe your reader after they’re invested, it’s a waste of word count and you’ll piss your readers off.

It’s annoying to follow an arc then watch as the character you’ve invested in just gets canned. I’m thinking of season 3 of The Walking Dead, when Andrea has this weird arc of self-discovery that is half-assed and all over the place, generally becoming an unlikable character but one with issues the audience is encourage to invest in and then…killed off in a way that was just as frustrating as the last few episodes centering on her dumb illogical antics. This was later a point of conversation with fans and critics who blamed the shake up of the behind-the-scenes line up and the writing being strange at that time period.

If you want me to instalove your character, I’m immediately suspicious and hate you preemptively. Make me genuinely like your character then BREAK MY FUCKING HEART.

That is good writing.

Make your work art, not a lame attempt at vengeance.

Then you can throw in your inside joke with yourself!

 

 

TLDR:

*KOS – there’s literally an excerpt from Red Cowboys in the back that clearly not all is as it seems…I’m okay with my decision lol

*Don’t get carried away with personal issues, we still want your novel to be entertaining!

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All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden

 

This is a different Canada post. It’s a Canarrda post.

 

And it’s a very long one so if you’re on your phone, you might get old and die before the end. Saddle up, read this on the john or on the train to work. I’m putting the TLDR up here too in case you don’t have the time.

I want you to know this man existed.

TLDR:
*Went to the cemetery, drove past a headstone.
*Pulled over and confirmed it was a former boss and friend of mine who helped me in my 20s, providing me with work and a non-blood family I will think of forever.
*He taught me some things about being a good person and a good leader.
*I was thinking about him lately, wondering why I hadn’t seen him around or heard about him through the grapevine.
*The cliche is true, Life is short.

*I’m thankful for the memories I still talk about to this day.
*His name was Manuel and he was funny, loyal, skilled, hard-working and the best boss I ever had. He was a father figure to all of us misfits in that job and the world is missing a good person now.

*I called him Manyool, not Manny or Manwell like some others did.

Rest in Peace, my friend.

 

I was out of school, ditched my opportunity to go to a prestigious college to work in musical theatre and wound up in a trade school which was also cool. I spent a while in Fine Arts before deviating to Film and Tv where I could draw storyboards, learn how to use television cameras, lighting grids and editing programs. Things got tough about 2 years in (I was stalked etc and missing classes, unbeknownst to me at the time I had my first full blown anxiety attack and freaked out so much I quit) I was reeling for a little while after but I wanted to make money.

My friend told me about a man who worked with her at her job caring for the elderly, but also had another job managing a fish shop/market. She mentioned he was looking for staff. A week later I was wearing gumboots, a uniform with a hat, hairnet, and jeans because apparently they smelled less fishy than other clothing when you got home. I was about to embark on a journey into the best fucking job of my life. There are many good memories to share, but all you need to know right now is one of the reasons I’ll always consider this period of my life as one of the best is because of the peers I worked alongside, the skills I learned, and one man. 

His accent was fucked up. He was Portuguese, but he spoke French and Italian and English fluently so it came out weird. When I first met him, I had no idea wtf he was saying 90% of the time. It took a couple of weeks standing on a hard floor for 12 hours a day, freezing, shovelling ice a few times a week to understand him completely over the noise of the fridges. It was like I’d learned another language, and customers would sometimes ask a question and look at him blankly as he gave a perfect and comprehensive answer, then they’d look at me for a translation. I felt bad for him for a while, but then I just felt bad for the other person for being so stupid.

I’m not a feminazi, so when I say this, take it for what it is. When I first got there, it was a very male environment. Most of the employees I came into contact with were male and kind of had that rolling-eyes-attitude…until if/when you proved yourself. When I joined, there was a much older female who was married to a filleter in the back room. I was invited to her house after a few weeks. She was like a distant grandmother with a Malaysian(?) accent, teaching me stuff. Her husband got really sick, and they both left after years and years of working there together. The other female was one in her late twenties with a young kid. She was Indonesian and very feisty, and kind of…always angry lol I was scared of her, but she was a good ally. She’d been there for a long time and was a favourite of a few customers. She mostly worked days I didn’t. Then there were two blonde, bronzed-Aussie-type sisters who did things like Volleyball. They passed in and out of my sphere sporadically, mostly working on weekends for higher rate wages and saving for world trips and university. Over time they worked less and then eventually left.

It was a job for men IMO. (It’s probably different now.) I’d always been a tomboy, and I believe in equality blablabla – but look, I can’t lift that 25kg box of frozen shit over there, the guy next to me can, easily, to pretend otherwise is idiotic. I found it better to be like the boys though, talk back, be sarcastic, hate everything, and just STFU and get on with it even though the uniform was a T SHIRT and we were getting wet and going in and out of freezers all day. LOL I didn’t work in the huge warehouse exporting food for hotels and ships. I worked in the “retail section,” like a deli counter…but I still had to lift things, get dirty and covered in guts, shovel a (literal) tonne of ice in the morning with two other guys before displaying the fish etc. I’d get there at 7am and Manuel would be there, usually with everything laid out so we could just start shovelling and setting up. I can’t remember ever having to sign in/clock on/submit hours, he did all that for us with precision.

I’d eventually be the only regular female before we got some youngens in…They were part of a team from a fast food restaurant they’d all quit. They livened the place up. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in my entire life, before or after this time. I loved those kids. I love those kids. Myself and a few others (we were early 20s, the youngens were 15/16,) we called them “the kids” and played pranks on them, let them eat leftover occy at the end of the day and not dob on them even though it was about $60 a KG. We’d close the door to Manuel’s office and watch the kids tip oil on the tiles so they could try and slip and surf through it. We’d kick the brick out from the walk-in freezer and lock each other in the dark for a few seconds (WHICH WAS TERRIFYING. – No one really had the balls to do it to me. By then I was sort of a Matriarch-figure but I did get locked in there twice, eventually. It sucks. The door was propped open with a brick because it had a fridge door mechanism – magnetic or weighted so it would close automatically. It was broken and the multimillionaire owners were stingey when it came to fixing anything we needed. When the brick was kicked out, there was no light, the fans started up their deafening noise and it was instantly even colder; icicles hanging off shelves etc and no way out until someone noticed you were missing or your captor was nearby.

It was hilarious to do it to a newbie.  Never.   Got.   Old.

The boys (including the Patriarch of our mid-week shift family) would get blue crabs in off the trucks and then lump the styrofoam boxes in front of the younger girls and I then watch from the window as we opened it and shrieked because they were STILL ALIVE, despite what the boys told us. Crabs get aggressive too, literally reaching for you with soulless eyes and razor-sharp pincers!

We’d take bad quality selfies with the Tuna that came in – Tuna looks like a dead body, same as Swordfish. They chop off the sword part at sea and bring the carcass back. It’s about the size of a short fat dude sometimes. It lasts for a long time as is before filleting, and that takes a long time too. It was usually done over a few days. Until then, it would lie on a steel-grated shelf, low and covered up in the walk-in fridge, dark and silent. It was like a morgue. I fucking loved it.

Manuel would let us get away with everything, (within reason,) especially me on the days I worked, and I knew it. We were never out of control or excessively destructive but other bosses may not have been so…understanding of the need to blow off steam.  I overcame some shyness and insecurity that had encumbered me for years and felt safe enough to be a more honest version of who I was. If I did something wrong/dumb, he would just stand next to me and wait with his hands behind his back and blinking hard and obviously, smiling a half-fake smile until I noticed. He’d do it until I realised what he was getting at, or until he gave up and just told me to fix whatever I’d fucked up. He never had to yell or curtly say what he wanted.

I wielded my power unchecked, mostly. Occasionally, we were under the watchful eye of a tall (late 20s?)Irish, Supervisor bloke who was amusing to his friends but was a sarcastic douche to us, insinuating we were all stupid whenever he had to interact with us. (I’d probably be less scared and appreciate him a lot more now. tbh) He tolerated us, but he didn’t like any of us. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even like Manuel. He had a sideways dead-eye glare, the shape of his nose making him look like a shark about to rip off your balls. I think he still works there, I don’t think he’ll ever leave. He and the older boys would work all the hours they could then jet around the world for months and come back and repeat. They had a sweet deal. We became a family with a pecking order depending on the crew working that day. They were like older brothers doing cool stuff we couldn’t do yet and we mostly steered clear of them when we could.

I didn’t want to clean fish. At first, it was some weird esoteric/philosophical thing like…it’s dead and now I’m going to ruin it further?! Eek. Then it became that I didn’t think I’d be good at it, and also; ew guts. THEN one day, our crackhead filleter (all crackheads/ex cons doing the wholesale orders out back,) was over it and gave me shit about interrupting his work yet again to clean my customer’s order. He refused to help me. I felt stupid. So I did it. I got a couple of people to teach me.

Up til right now, I can gut you a fish (up to about 3kg then I struggle strength-wise to get through the bone) in about 60seconds.

Manuel never took me aside and told me I had to. He never told me I was letting them down (which I knew I was,) because customers waited longer while I found someone to help me. He didn’t tell me it was part of the job so I had to learn or go home. He never forced me to do anything I wasn’t confident about. I was allowed to figure it out in my own time. Once I did it, I did it all the time, proud of myself, taking on the dreaded regular big dude who’d come in with his non-English speaking wife to order us all around like slaves while she watched. He’d order 30 whiting all cleaned…small annoying shitty fucking fish that were fiddly so they were usually sold as is. We only cleaned them for him because he was a regular. We usually scattered when we saw him approach the doors and got busy somewhere else in the store, but after a while Manuel started volunteering me as tribute. I was fast by then, I understood. Also why myself and my Patriarch counterpart (who later went on to the USA, got married and is still probably the happiest guy I’ve known) would shell 50kgs of prawns together for the shop before Christmas like it ain’t no thang. Some of us had #madskillz, honed by teaching each other hacks and being relaxed and safe enough to screw up cos your family had your back.

We had a good crew. The only time we pissed each other off was when people started dropping ice in the back of others’ boots while they served customers. We balanced out the shenanigans with real hard work. Manuel made it so we wanted to work hard, take stress off him. We wanted to come to work, we rarely called in sick. I spent every birthday at work because there was honestly no place I’d rather be.

We worked our butts off sometimes…but I got my way a lot too. Eg: if I made a face about something, Manuel would do it for me or he’d call one of the kids to do whatever it was. (LOL SORRY!) I was also given tasks that I probably shouldn’t have had bestowed upon my disposable-20something-casual-worker ass, like helping him choose stock to order for the lame attempt at a vegan groceries section in the shop. He let me choose flavours of sauce and make up Christmas hampers the owners wanted to gift their contacts to kiss ass. He liked my honest quips and lack of semantics. He’d either laugh at my sarcastic, cutting comment and concede a good point or his mouth would turn to an absolutely straight line as he accepted a serious one. He knew I was uncontrollably artistic. He’d let me draw on the chalkboard to promote the weekly specials, not just write, and he would always get my opinion on personalities that were later hired, or when big wigs came down from the lofty multimillionaire office to tell us how to do our jobs. If I told him work was shit today and I wanted to go outside, he would disappear, source a leaf blower somehow and tell me to clean up the shop front outside, take 20 mins. He told me he loved working outside too.

I also used my power for good, for I am Ever, The Just. One of the youngest kids was 14. He was unco, asked ridiculous questions, kind of slow on the uptake and annoying. His dad worked in the warehouse. One day he fucked up. He fucked up a lot, I felt bad for him. I usually covered his mistakes and picked up the slack as much as I could (because Matriarch/Fairy Godmother.) One day I wasn’t there, he was messing around on the weekend and knocked over something that cost the shop hundreds of dollars worth of fish. He was fired. Manuel told me a few days later and I was shocked because I didn’t think any of the family could be canned. I told him yes, the kid was a fucking idiot- Oh gawd, believe me, I know- but we all make mistakes and it’s all replaceable, it was unsold produce for the next day…and if it didn’t get sold then – we’d write off most of it anyway… The kid’s job was re-instated. I felt like Manuel respected my opinion enough to think of a situation a different way. The kid’s parents thanked me and even bought me a present…Hey, I was just telling Manuel to calm his tits. I guess he’d told them I’d saved their son’s butt.

Manuel was fucking funny too, he’d try to join in with some of our innuendo and laugh until it went too far and he realised he should be the mature boss-man and father-figure, which he was to all of us. My Patriarch counterpart didn’t know his real father and tragically lost his mother. It was heartening to see he and Manuel interact. You could feel things you couldn’t see and I was always happy they had a good relationship, to the point of jokingly flirting with each other and giving each other shit.

The shop was a humbling place. Everyone fell over. The floor was always wet. I hairline-fractured a shin on one of my stacks, in front of the owners who looked down at me in disgust like I’d vomited on their shoes instead before asking if I was okay. The kids fell over a  lot, throwing ice at each other and playing pranks, also just being unco in general. Manuel fell over in front of me a couple of times. Once, I was behind him, we were both walking then it was like a cartoon, he let out a weird (excited!?) kind of “Yee-EE!” sound and moved like a jump when people click their heels before he hit the floor. LOL Falls happened so often, you just got back up and kept walking unless it really hurt. I think I only fell over 3 times in my tenure. The last one, my kids all ran over and helped, constantly checking I was okay, mopping the floor so it was drier, and doing things for me after. Newbies first falls were amusing, no one cared after that. You had to really flail or drop produce or something to have your story retold.

One morning, it was just Manuel and I when a pregnant woman came in. He was in the office doing boss-things. I was on the floor, selling and cleaning etc. She wanted the raw garlic prawns. Produce that’s old and unfrozen, changing temperatures, is bad for pregnant women because of potential bacteria. I heard him walk up behind me as I told her “Sorry, I can’t sell you that.” and when she frowned and demanded to know why, getting to asking for management, Manuel appeared on my left and we both said “Because you’re pregnant,” in unison. I was relieved he was there to explain why 1. I told her I’m not helping her 2. I’d committed the universal faux pas of assuming she was pregnant. I was even more relieved when she laughed and told us she’d just had the baby but thanked us for the warning etc.

Manuel, the suave latin charmer, was apologising even though she was happy, saying, “We had to ask, we had to say, for your safety, ma’am.” He was doing his thing he always did when he was trying to negotiate with customers (he called them clients.) He’d literally have his hands clasped and his head on the side, bending forward, when  talking to disgruntled female customers, still smiling under the uniform cap.  <3

Once he interrupted my conversation with the youngens and told me (age 22/23) that I was too old to get a sugar daddy. Then he laughed and laughed at my face. I couldn’t even think of a comeback. Serves me right for trying to get involved with some of the kids’ stupid conversations in the office when he was around. Moments like these were frequent and we’d be laughing the whole day and bantering until we left.

He always told us that he would accept a text if we were calling in sick so not to freak out thinking we had to call and be awkward. He got us all in the office once and told us that if we needed time off, to tell him and not to feel bad. He said the order is:

FAMILY

SCHOOL

PARTYING

*then* WORK

He told us our lives were meant to be fun, and to put important things first.

I employed the same rules when I was managing a jewellery store years later. I let my team have enough rope, within reason, and watched what they did with it. I was fair, and I never told them to do something I wouldn’t.  I was reasonable and approachable and respected them/their wellbeing even when they didn’t. My team fucking loved me because I modelled my management style on his. We left each other notes, they called on my RDO to let me know about sales in the mall our shop was in, they put stock aside they knew I’d like, and deliberately “lose” the shit CDs that corporate wanted us to play instore.

I still try to run my life by Manuel’s list now.  I can still hear him stating the ranks.

“FAMILY

SCHOOL

PARTYING

*then* WORK”

Manuel never got mad when I stole his phone at work (like 5 times) and randomly sent texts to the kids saying they were fired and not to come in that afternoon. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Then they’d call the office phone, nearly in tears to confirm and he’d laugh and calm them down while I was out in the shopfront leaving more chaos in my wake for him to sort out. He would tell me if I got them good or if they knew it was me being an asshole again. It was funny because I caught Manuel off-guard too when he had to field those calls. He didn’t make me stop though. 😛 Soooo one could argue this was his fault.

There were only two times I remember him getting mad at us (if he was in a mood it was usually about something else and we avoided him. He’d spend most of the day in the office too.) One time was when we kept waiting until he left the office and then wrapping his phone with aluminum foil in a swan shape…By about the 4th time spanning a few days, he couldn’t find it while we rang it, he was done. And 2, when we were doing a stocktake and we were all tired AF and laughing and being idiots. We were reading out “sundries” which was the title our stupid spices etc came under on the system. He was writing it all down at his desk, with his back to us. The brand was Sandhurst(?) or something. He’d say SandRust so everyone copied him -for weeks. He usually laughed it off. The other guys were trying to make him say it in the office that day, deliberately asking him questions about it and interrupting his work. After multiple times, someone tried to make him say it again and he looked down and over his shoulder at us all and snarled, “SannnnddRRRUUSSSTT!” 

His English was good, it really was, but he would also say some things backwards, eg: if you were sad he’d ask “What it is?” and not “What is it?”

He would also pronounce the L in Salmon. Sal-mon. <3

One of the (many) times I could see his heart transcend his superficial title, was when one of the kids hurt herself and needed a bandaid. His wife was pregnant with their second child at the time and they knew the gender, he wanted us to guess. Everyone guessed whether it was going to be a boy or a girl in the days prior. We’d made jokes and bet each other ridiculous things like gutting each other’s fish for a whole day if we were wrong. I saved my guess for a little. When I watched him with her, I knew it was going to be a girl. He was so excited and thorough, getting the bandaids from the kit, not leaving her to do it herself, the way it usually was. When the boys got injured, it was like…fuck em. LOL When I stabbed myself with a Red Emperor fish spine and needed a Tetanus shot, I wanted to be treated like the guys. Manuel still called me a couple of times to check on me though. He was unwrapping the bandaid and the wrapper etc for her, getting low to put it on her finger/hand, talking to her nicely and making jokes when usually he’d just give us all shit. I knew he was going to have a girl.

He didn’t snitch on me when I appeared at a work party and snuck home a whole bottle of wine in addition to the one I was drinking from. He did, however, give me shit about it for weeks after.

Once I sent him a text message saying something about being late because I was behind a truck and it kept slowing down and “beeping.” My phone changed the word beeping to “herpes.” I thought I was going to walk into some shiiiet for months when I got to work. But he didn’t bring it up, he knew I was probably in a bad mood/flustered from rushing and being late.

Manuel protected me and the rest of our family. Eg: Some rich dude was very rude and asked me for 2 dozen oysters. I made two rows in each container and he went CRAZY. Apparently he’d wanted 6 in each container. That wasn’t how we did it. Manuel stepped in and told him that I did it how I’d been taught and he should have specified what he wanted, that the formation I’d put it in(containers were closed and stacked, even put garnish in it etc) wouldn’t damage them like the guy was claiming. He told the old guy he would redo the order if he wanted him to. He could tell I was upset and he didn’t want me to spend more time with the pig. The guy made him do it, watching, standing over him trying to intimidate while Manuel struggled to maintain his customer service face. Manuel always, always, even to his own detriment, had our backs against management and also shit customers or vagrants who came in to cause trouble.

I used to watch him arrange the fish fillets and think about how super-hairy his arms were next to the food, and that it must look gross to customers through the glass and fluorescent light lol

He let me have sharks – little Port Jackson ones in the tank. They were everyone’s technically, but I was the one who wanted to hold onto them and feed them as long as we could. I also named them. Xena and Paris. Xena was cooler.

Manuel supported me when I bit the bullet and pulled my first lobster out of the tank. It was harrowing if you didn’t know what you were doing, choosing one, not losing sight of it as it swam away from you and around the others in the tank, trying to escape. You had to be good at it, because some customers are pretty adamant and choose their own. You have a long lobster net and you’re usually up on a chair because the tank is taller than you…then there’s thrashing, water all over your shirt sometimes, sharp tails that can cut flesh and a big steel bucket of ice to stun your chosen lobster and initiate its way to the Shadow Realm. You take it to a filleter, or make Manuel kill it (I just couldn’t/wouldn’t) annnnd then you wrap it up while it’s still twitching. Which is disturbing.

He (and my patriarch counterpart) stood beside me, spotting me as I did the one thing I feared the most after so long of being employed there, at my request to save me if I fucked it up. Then…moving forward, I would be volunteering to grab them out for annoying customers that thought they knew what they were talking about and giving the warning/speel we did: as soon as it hits the ice, it’s sold (cos they are gonna die after that) so you best be sure which one you want. I was scared every time, and I’d tell Manuel before I did it in case I needed him. I knew he would drop whatever he was doing to help me if I needed it and it was why I ventured into things like that. He’d say I was being too nervous and “it’ll be fiiiiiiine,” but I’d still see him glance back while serving customers to make sure I really didn’t need his help.

I’d tell him to go away sometimes, that I’m trying to arrange stuff (usually the oysters) the way I wanted to. I’d also tell him to go away when he was too close, hanging around bored and watching me serve customers. He’d fucking do it on purpose too because it made me nervous and I hated it. When I gave him the death stare, he would shrug and give up, and laugh his way back to the office. 😀

Later, the company stiffed him and fired him instantly for something I remember logically did not make sense to us. I can’t remember what it was now, but I know we were all like…wtf, that’s literally impossible, they need to get their facts straight. I remember he was mad they didn’t give him 2 weeks notice, which is a breach of the law here. After his dedication, all those years, friendship with the owners and putting up with their ridiculous demands on him –  they just fucked him over. We knew it was over for us too, that the beautiful work culture we’d built was ending and that Irish dude would take over until they’d hire someone else that didn’t understand us or the intricacies and dynamics. We didn’t want someone else. We wanted Manuel. Over the coming weeks, nearly all of what we called the “A team” left too, giving in their notice sporadically over about a month. It was very sad. We’d had (I think? about 3+ years together, every day at that point) But my fish family was broken without our dad, and I left too.

Years later, I would work for Manuel again at another place, but the years had made it so he was a little rougher around the edges, less easy-going(but still funny though! just not entirely like before) He was still loyal. In the new role, I was the last hired and when management told him to get rid of someone, he chose another person who’d worked there for a while but was kind of a loner in favour of trying to keep me. Management let me go right after too (lol, damn,) so it didn’t work out but that was who this man was. I’d like to think that the people he met affected him/left an impression on him the way he did with us. I hope so anyway because our times together at the fish market was something that I’d love to know he looked back on fondly too.

Manuel would work at the fish market before 7am to 7pm, then he would do his other job which was caring for old people, wiping butts and changing adult diapers and THEN he would be in the town centre at midnight in his cleaning up the trash on the streets gig too. He was a very hard worker and he took everything on the chin, with jokes and a smile that sometimes didn’t match his momentarily bewildered eyes because he was still trying to convert the English in his head.

When I saw the headstone, I got home and in contact with the kids and Patriarch counterpart who are nearly all still on my social media. A couple knew what happened, some didn’t. They have talked to me the last few days, sharing mutual memories and making me feel less alone – we feel the same. It was family and he was Dad. They’ve told me the same things; like it was the funniest time in their lives and it didn’t ever feel like work, it was hanging out with our best friends and laughing for hours.

I learned that Manuel was hilarious to the end, that even when the worst was happening, he cracked jokes and was the one who had accepted what was going to happen while everyone else cried around him. I heard it was very quick over a week, and that the last few years were hard for him, I was full of questions because I was just talking about him recently and wondering where he was…When I went to bed was when it hit me and writing this is quite upsetting. He’s a person I credit with shaping parts of my personality and I’m very grateful that I knew him for the time I did.

Rest in Peace, boss. You earned this sleep.

I’ll always think of you in that uniform, telling us we’re idiots and laughing at our shit jokes, claiming we’ve apparently “lost it!” when we gingerly giggle at a really shit one of yours out of obligation 😛

 

RIP
Manuel Canada, my friend.

 

I want you to know this man existed.

 

 

TLDR:
*Went to the cemetery, drove past a headstone.
*Pulled over and confirmed it was a former boss and friend of mine who helped me in my 20s, providing me with work and a non-blood family I will think of forever.
*He taught me some things about being a good person and a good leader.
*I was thinking about him lately, wondering why I hadn’t seen him around or heard about him through the grapevine.
*The cliche is true, Life is short.

*I am thankful for the memories I still talk about to this day.
*His name was Manuel and he was hilarious, loyal, skilled, hard-working and the best boss I’d ever had. He was a father figure to all of us misfits in that job and the world is missing a good person now

*I called him Manyool, not Manny or Manwell

(I apologise for any typos etc but I end up in tears when I come back to try and edit.)

 

If you got this far, thank you. I hope you meet people like Manuel in your life and that they teach you things you don’t forget. 

 

 

 

 

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EVER EDEN on ODYSEE

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EVER EDEN AUTHOR on Telegram and YOUTUBE!

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden

 

I know people are waiting for Red Cowboys. I was going to release some goodies in the next couple of weeks while the technical stuff is finalised and I chase down my designer. One of these goodies was going to be a book trailer like the one for  King of Spades. Unfortunately, if you’ve been reading the previous posts, one of the main ways I show people stuff is the Facebook page. I also made a GAB page. Facebook restricted all my activity and took away the ability for me to post from my phone (that happened months ago,) they made it so I can’t run ads or promote anything or “go live.”

If underpaid drones/AI Fuckerberg are reading/scanning this, no, I will not ever go live on your platform, so you can keep that one.

They didn’t give me details on what the offending thing was but I think(?) I’ve narrowed it down to me sharing an article to a page I run. The article was something a friend posted. Somewhere in the article there was a picture of a dead bird that had guts showing. I can’t remember what it was about, maybe drones being disguised(?)…But the guts had wires and circuit boards showing too. It wasn’t the main image, so I guess they’re now getting you for whatever is in the article. Isn’t it funny how they can’t get the child pr0ns off these platforms by they will go after an indie author who shared an article?

A panda-eyed, witching hour nightowl, I watch live speeches from the USA and things that don’t make it to the news reports of this corner of the world. The news is not news. The news is agenda-pushing propaganda, and this week I was delighted to see a streamer I watch notice it too. There is a theme of the week, where all the news outlets repeat the same cycle…worldwide/in other countries. Last week it seemed to be a delightful array of articles about people on their deathbeds wishing they’d believed the Rona was dangerous or that they wish they took the Coof vaccine. I found several from Australia and also Canada. Different names, same formula.  It’s legitimately fascinating to see the dragnet at work.

The press secretary for the current administration in the USA announced they are in talks with social media giants to gag any information that’s different from the rhetoric they and the 6major news corporations churn out. There is no such thing as free speech on these platforms and they sucked everyone in before they moved the goal posts and are retrospectively punishing people. And my favourite part is that it’s completely ignored by normies. At this stage, you are willingly ignorant if you don’t at least look at what’s going on behind the scenes. And naive to think that some of the comments arguing for a police-state under a controversial post etc are actual people. Code is a wonderful thing. Bots are an amazing tool to sway agendas…

They will come for you too if you put a foot wrong, make no mistake lol The scope of things you are “allowed” to say/do is getting smaller…We live in interesting times right now. I have moved onto other platforms too; including Odysee (and earn lbry coin, instead of youtube) Bitchute, GAB and Telegram.

Jump ship before you go down with it! 🙂 The other platforms seem to be like the old-days internet; content creators can post what they like as long as it’s not harming people. If you’re up for a rant about the Coof (they demonetize or strike you if you mention it on Pootube,) or even just some guy’s review on a breakfast cereal, tune in to the other platforms and see how other people express themselves. Lord knows you can’t do it properly on Youtube or Facebook anymore. These places have made their money, got all your info and established dominance over technology and the way we communicate and NOW they want to use that power to fuck you. Use them for what you need, but never trust them.  They do not have your best interests at heart. EVER.

 

TLDR:}

*What’s wrong with you? It isn’t THAT long!

*I’m restricted on Facebook for sharing a cool article.

*These tech oligarchs are curbing your expression and your speech.

*Be aware! Otherwise you might find yourself unable to share your blog or a kickass trailer because you made the pencil-necked dweeb, soy boy censors mad OR you evoked the wrath of the sloppy keyword-blasting algorithms, leaving you to try and untie their damage for weeks.

 

 

 

 

 

www.facebook.com/everedenauthor

www.Instagram.com/Everedenauthor

EVER EDEN on ODYSEE

and
EVER EDEN AUTHOR on Telegram and YOUTUBE!

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden

 

 

 

 

Only Fans? Pfft. Fuck that.

 

More memoir thoughts.

I dip my toes in…

…with posts like this one and this series. It’s fun to write about things that have happened in my life in that cathartic/closure/validation way. I never did it for that reason originally, but I’m full of stories…and I like to make people laugh. My stories are entertaining, sad, funny and embarrassing, like the time I spoke to a famous person and didn’t think they heard my joke so I said it again and they were like   -__-

The stories I’ve lived are going to waste if I’m the only one who knows I’ve lived them. I’m proof you can have a boring life on paper (eg I don’t have copious passport stamps or prestigious job titles) and still have a life that’s sometimes been sitcom movie-worthy. I know I’ve hinted at it before with references to domestic abuse, watching a gambling addiction and a drug one, guns, counselling, incurable illness, and more but there is a lot to say.

Some lives are blessed with only a couple of dramas and tragedy. Others picked up the slack.

 

Reasons for a Memoir:

Experiencing some of my life was very lonely, maybe it could help someone else going through similar situations.

I might feel better? I’ve worked through a lot over, but maybe it would feel even better to write some stuff?

If I want to revisit, it will be there in black and white AND there will be an end to the thinking about it when I reach the bottom of the page.         In theory.

I can feel like some of the things I went through were worth something, if what I write entertains someone else.

I go to waste and no one knows my story. I’m not boring, I’m not ugly or lacking a personality, there’s been a lot of experiences.

Reasons to STFU

No one cares, lady.

Do people read memoirs by “nobodies” anyway? – the answer is yes, see here 😛

Is mum going to be okay with reading your sordid revelations? (lol)

And then what? What if I have more to say or to add? What if I forget something important? (I guess I write it here later instead? I get a Patreon and people buy me a coffee to hear the sad/humiliating tales that didn’t make it into the memoir? LOL)

It probably has to have a point. Which I don’t have…or recognise yet.
For me to feel like it’s worthwhile, it’s probably going to need to help people in some way too.

I’ve found that most people seem to have all the incidental occurrences we all experience in day-to day life, but one or two major life-changing or turning points; usually a marriage or baby, a nasty divorce or breakup, maybe a job loss that resulted in chaos, someone important who died, a person they had a fling with overseas etc.

I would like to know these stories. How did it change the person? What was their growth/recovery process? Did they get the old them back? How did they choose that event out of all the years in their lives to talk about? Did they have a personality disorder that made these things amplify or did they realise they felt not as much as they “should?”

 We’re already writing our own vacuous, shallow memoirs on social media every day. We post about our food, our friends, the girl at work who pisses us off, the boy we like…the only difference is that someone in the CIA will read your one-liner truncated recount rather than people who could really enjoy it or learn from a more elaborate version.

 

I think I’m going to do it. I don’t know where to start, or when I will work on it with 100% of my attention. I have materials for decades…but how do you boil it down to the decent meat you can sink your fangs into?

I’ll get back to you on that one.

What do people want to know/learn from/would get a kick out of? The ex who tried to run me down in his car and I hid in a Red Rooster with equally as terrified teenagers? That time I was trying to get up to some 😉 hanky panky on a kitchen counter and we smashed a 3 litre glass bottle of tomato sauce?  Oh wait, wait, the time I almost accidentally jumped out of a 15th storey hotel window in Melbourne? Or do I write about the my family and what it’s gone through the last few years, or my illnesses etc. There’s a lot to choose from, but I have to find a point to my story and the relevant stuff to accompany it. It’s going to take time.

Fuck, it’s been a strange life so far…why not let someone get a laugh or learn from my stupid choices?

 

 

 

TLDR:

*I’m not starting an Only Fans account. Relax.

*I think I’m going to write that memoir…when I figure out how to start.

*”Nobodies” count too.

*We all have stories.

*Our stories may be able to help others.

*Sign up to my eventual newsletter. I hate spam and fleeting virtue signal bandwagon BS so it will most likely be the weekly blog post and a couple of pics from Instagram which may, or may, not feature my chest. Or food. Or flowers. Or my feline friends. Or cocktails etc. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

www.facebook.com/everedenauthor

www.Instagram.com/Everedenauthor

EVER EDEN on ODYSEE

and
EVER EDEN AUTHOR on Telegram and YOUTUBE!

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden