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SWBAT describe how words and phrases have rhythm and interpret their meaning.
What are some forms of poetry? Students manipulate structures in words and phrases that affect rhythm and meaning of poems.
As a culminating activity, I present students with a Poetry Review Flipchart that summarizes the various types of poetry we have learned so far. To start the lesson, we focus on the first half of the flipchart (up to the analysis of "Daffodils" by William Wordsworth).
The flip chart contains embedded oral presentations "in students' own words" explaining each type of poetry they created. It is like a walk down memory lane. I think students make emotional connections with certain lessons. This presentation not only aids in recalling information learned, but also promotes ownership through emotional connections. I make the point of letting students know that they have learned so much since the beginning of this unit as documented on video.
This is also a great time for reciprocal teaching. I call on volunteers to "teach" their classmates by presenting certain sections of this flip chart. This is a performance task that demonstrates mastery of conceptual knowledge.
In this review lesson, students describe how they created their poetry. Creativity, innovation, and critical thinking are elements of my Common Core teaching that, I believe, prepare students for global competitiveness. 21st Century education focuses on students' ability to create new ideas, integrate technology, and incorporate creative thinking skills.
This flip chart contains some formative assessments that students perform using a transponder. Interactive technology is a great way to engage students and painlessly assess students at the same time.
After students review each type of poetry that they have learned, I ask them to create samples of each in a Poetry Flipbook. Students work in pairs in order to bounce off ideas with a partner. Collaborating with a partner encourages creativity. Students create their flip book and share their final products with their partner.
I distribute a Partnership Checklistt that functions as norms and expectations of effective partnerships. Students rate each other as partners. This checklist impacts student behavior towards one another in positive ways. I observe students following these guidelines because it is also a visual reminder that the process is just as important as the product. Students present their product to the class via a poetry presentation once their flip book is complete.
The second part of the Poetry flipchart contains a Daffodils Garden of Verse Video of a poem and visuals entitled "Daffodils" by William Wordsworth. Students are drawn into this video because of its hypnotic effects. This poem is full of poetic devices that we discuss at the end of the movie clip. We view the video of this poem and students use a Poetry Prefilled Matrix to identify poetic devices within this poem and share their findings with their classmates. Students discuss their findings and share ideas within their collaborative groups during their Daffodils Student Poetry Analysis session.
I believe this activity ties closely to common core because it highlights critical thinking skills, which leads to divergent thinking. Divergent thinking is developed by exploring many possible solutions in order to generate creative ideas.


text:
Heroes: Sung and unsung
Humour in real life
Historic speeches
Campus capers
Festivals and faith
Favourite corner!
A few months ago, a close relative of mine fell ill and was admitted to the hospital.
We took turns to be with the sick person at the hospital during the night time. When it was my turn to be with the relative, I reached the hospital in the evening. The patient was progressing well. After meals, the relative fell asleep. I tip-toed out of the ward and made for the waiting room outside.
There were four sofas arranged on four sides so as leave a wide rectangular space within; there was a low glass-topped table in the centre. One of the sofas was pressed against the wall, and the wall had a socket. Great! I needed to charge my mobile. I plugged in the mobile charger to the socket, picked up the newspaper left on the table by some kindly soul, sat on the sofa, and busied myself in solving the crossword puzzle. There was no one else, and all the other sofas were unoccupied.
I was so busy trying to solve the crossword puzzle that I was lost to the world. After some time however I felt someone staring at me with piercing eyes. I lifted my head and found an "ayah" sizing me up with a challenging expression on her face.
I felt uneasy. Had I done something wrong? Was it wrong to charge the mobile phone and consume the hospital's electricity? But I had seen many others doing the same, and no hospital staff had objected. Moreover, this was a waiting room meant for the relatives of patients. There were no hospital appliances plugged anywhere. I felt really uncomfortable.
Meanwhile, the "ayah" continued to glare at me. After a while, I could not take it any longer.
"What's the matter?" I asked her.
"I always use this particular sofa to rest during the night," she revealed.
I great feeling of relief came over me. So, that was it! I had done nothing wrong after all! That was, of course, my point of view; from the ayah's perspective I had committed a grave wrong - I had occupied her sofa! But how was I to know that the hospital staff had their favourite corners; there were three other sofas, which were unoccupied; she could have sat on any one of them. I did not bother her with these questions; I unplugged the charger and moved to another sofa.
After a while I decided to take a stroll outside to get the blood flowing. When I returned I found the "ayah" wrapped up in a blanket; she had put her knees up, her chin was tucked in, and her arms, outlined against the blanket, were held akimbo. A majestic posture indeed! The message was loud and clear: this is my sofa, and no one dare sit on it at this hour!
Some useful links for
your career:
Union Public Service Commission - www.upsc.gov.in
IIT-Kharagpur - www.iitkgp.ac.in
Indian Statistical Institute - www.isical.ac.in
Indian Institute of Technology Madras - www.iitm.ac.in
Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad - www.iimahd.ernet.in
Indian Institute of Mass Commission - www.iimc.nic.in
IIT Bombay - www.iitb.ac.in
Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad - www.ismdhanbad.ac.in
Birla Institute of Technology, Ranchi - www.bitmesra.ac.in
Central Institute of Fisheries Nautical and Engineering Training - www.cifnet.nic.in
Indian Institute of Information Technology, Allahabad (Deemed University) - www.iiita.ac.in
Central Marine Fisheries Research Institute, Kochi - www.cmfri.com
Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Mumbai - www.tiss.edu
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"Alien company" means a company incorporated or organized under the laws of any country other than the United States."Commission" means the State Corporation Commission. "Commissioner" or "Commissioner of Insurance" means the administrative or executive officer of the division or bureau of the Commission established to administer the insurance laws of this Commonwealth."Company" means any association, aggregate of individuals, business, corporation, individual, joint-stock company, Lloyds type of organization, organization, partnership, receiver, reciprocal or interinsurance exchange, trustee or society."Domestic company" means a company incorporated or organized under the laws of this Commonwealth."Foreign company" means a company incorporated or organized under the laws of the United States, or of any state other than this Commonwealth."Health services plan" means any arrangement for offering or administering health services or similar or related services by a corporation licensed under Chapter 42 (§ 38.2-4200 et seq.) of this title."Insurance" means the business of transferring risk by contract wherein a person, for a consideration, undertakes (i) to indemnify another person, (ii) to pay or provide a specified or ascertainable amount of money, or (iii) to provide a benefit or service upon the occurrence of a determinable risk contingency. Without limiting the foregoing, "insurance" shall include (i) each of the classifications of insurance set forth in Article 2 (§ 38.2-101 et seq.) of this chapter and (ii) the issuance of group and individual contracts, certificates, or evidences of coverage by any health services plan as provided for in Chapter 42 (§ 38.2-4200 et seq.) of this title, health maintenance organization as provided for in Chapter 43 (§ 38.2-4300 et seq.) of this title, legal services organization or legal services plan as provided for in Chapter 44 (§ 38.2-4400 et seq.) of this title, dental or optometric services plan as provided for in Chapter 45 (§ 38.2-4500 et seq.) of this title, and dental plan organization as provided for in Chapter 61 (§ 38.2-6100 et seq.) of this title. "Insurance" shall not include any activity involving an extended service contract that is subject to regulation pursuant to Chapter 34 (§ 59.1-435 et seq.) of Title 59.1 or a warranty made by a manufacturer, seller, lessor, or builder of a product or service."Insurance company" means any company engaged in the business of making contracts of insurance."Insurance transaction," "insurance business," and "business of insurance" include solicitation, negotiations preliminary to execution, execution of an insurance contract, and the transaction of matters subsequent to execution of the contract and arising out of it."Insurer" means an insurance company."Medicare" means the "Health Insurance for the Aged Act," Title XVIII of the Social Security Amendment of 1965, as amended."Person" means any association, aggregate of individuals, business, company, corporation, individual, joint-stock company, Lloyds type of organization, organization, partnership, receiver, reciprocal or interinsurance exchange, trustee or society."Rate" or "rates" means any rate of premium, policy fee, membership fee or any other charge made by an insurer for or in connection with a contract or policy of insurance. The terms "rate" or "rates" shall not include a membership fee paid to become a member of an organization or association, one of the benefits of which is the purchasing of insurance coverage.
(c. Advising about rate questions, except as an attorney giving legal advice.
"State" means any commonwealth, state, territory, district or insular possession of the United States."Surplus to policyholders" means the excess of total admitted assets over the liabilities of an insurer, and shall be the sum of all capital and surplus accounts, including any voluntary reserves, minus any impairment of all capital and surplus accounts.Without otherwise limiting the meaning of or defining the following terms, "insurance contracts" or "insurance policies" shall include contracts of fidelity, indemnity, guaranty and suretyship.
Code 1950, §§ 38-1, 38-194, 38-253.20, 38-253.67; 1952, c. 317, §§ 38.1-1, 38.1-219; 1973, c. 504, § 38.1-279.30; 1980, c. 204, § 38.1-362.12; 1986, c. 562; 2001, c. 707; 2004, c. 668.
If you're reading this for anything important, you should double-check its accuracy—read § 38.2-100 on the official Code of Virginia website.
. . . 38.1-971 were repealed and replaced by Code §§ 38.2-100 through 38.2-4916. (Acts 1986, ch. 562). . . .
. . . 38.1-971 were repealed and replaced by Code §§ 38.2-100 through 38.2-4916 (Acts 1986, ch. 562). . . .
. . . . Code § 38.2-2206(G) (emphasis added). Code § 38.2-100 provides that an "`[i]nsurer' means an . . .
. . . definition of "insurer" in Va.Code § 38.2-100 (1994) is: . . .
. . . to "insurers" as defined in section 38.2-100. None of Plaintiff's arguments are persuasive . . .
. . . not to mention the Insurance Code, Va.Code §§ 38.2-100 et seq., the Beer Franchise Act, id. §§ . . .
. . . Virginia's insurance statutes. See Va.Code Ann. § 38.2-100, Editor's Note (2007) . . .
. . . quot; that is licensed as such. Va. Code Ann. § 38.2-100. The canon of statutory construction . . .


text:
April 25, 2016 April 25, 2016 / JM	/ Leave a comment
By Dr. Kay Mouradian
I first heard about Ayline Amirayan's talent from her voice coach Charles Gevoian whose tenor voice is well known here in Southern California. When Gevoian told me Ayline would perform her first original song Forget Me Not for the 100thcommemoration at Montebello's Armenian Genocide Memorial last April, I made a special effort to be there. When Gevoian opened the program with the finest rendition I have ever heard of The Star Spangled Banner, I knew the entire program would be filled with quality. I was not disappointed.
The Montebello Genocide Memorial opened in April 1968 and is the oldest memorial in the United States dedicated to Armenian Genocide victims. A yearly outdoor memorial service held every April attracts members of the Armenian community from all over the California southland and a capacity crowd of more than 500 attended the 1915 Centennial event on April 23rd.
Two well-known Armenian bands, the Element Band and the Greg Hosharian Band, along with solo vocalist Ayline Amirayan, helped elevate the somber energy. As I listened to Ayline, who was accompanied by pianist Greg Hosharian, violinist Garik Terzian and percussionist George Bilezikjian, I wondered why I previously had not heard of her.
Amirayan opened with three Armenian songs and her obvious love for Armenian music resonated throughout the audience and affected me deeply. I, an Armenian American born in Boston, do not speak or understand our Armenian language, and I realize how much of my heritage I have lost.
When I interviewed Ayline Amirayan she told me why she chose the Armenian songs she sang for the Centennial. Her first song "Kani Vur Djan" by Sayat Nova was meant to remind the audience that Sayat Nova's music lives on and still influences the poetic artistry of the Armenian people.
Her second song " Yeraz Im Yergir Hyernik" written by Yerevan's songwriter and musician Robert Amirkhanyan is about the love for Armenia. With today's talented musicians such as Amirkhanyan, Amirayan understands the preservation, authenticity and beauty of Sayat Nova affecting Armenian music a hundred years later.
Her next song was "Hye Herosneri Yerke". "I wanted to thank the heroes ofArmenia and honor those brave soldiers who have fought for the Armenian cause," she said.
Amirayan prepared the audience for her closing song, Forget Me Not. "It was extremely important for me to write Forget Me Not in English", she said. "As Armenians we know our story. For 100 years we've heard horrific stories through the eyes of our parents and grand parents. But I wanted the lyrics to be in English so non-Armenians would understand and feel why the title is "Forget Me Not!"
When I listened to her latest rendition of Forget Me Not, the melody and lyrics kept playing over and over in my head, which suggests to me that this is a song that will be remembered. I wanted to know and asked her about her creative process.
"The melancholy melody came to me easily as I pictured my ancestors," Amirayan said. "The lyrics spoke to me through the forget me not flower, and I sang the song as if I were the flower itself. My voice reflects the flower's black circle with the dark aftermath, the purple colors stretch toward unity and the yellow heart of the flower speaks to my vision of hope and my love for creativity."
The day after the Montebello event Amirayan joined 160,000 Armenians in the April 24th 6 mile Marching to Justice walk in Los Angeles from Little Armenia in Hollywood to the Turkish consulate in Westward. "We have a beautiful culture," she told me and added, "the strength and determination of the march says we are all here, we hear the voices of our ancestors and as I walked uphill and looked back it was as if I saw thousands of our ancestors marching out of Turkeytoward Dier el Zor. But, we were marching not to death. We were marching toward life.
"We are still here and free," she continued. "Not marching to death but marching to freedom. How could an Armenian not be proud? We are unique. Hearing stories like my grandfather, who at age six, while hidden in the barn, witnessed Turkish soldiers decapitate his three older brothers. We are the voices of those children who survived because of their strength. Had my grandfather been killed I wouldn't be here today."
The story how Amirayan's grandfather survived is every Armenian's story. It has taken 100 years for the world to recognize the depth of our Armenian loss in 1915 and Amirayan's first songwriting experience gives our community a musical rendition of our tragedy. Forget Me Not needs to be in every Armenian home to acknowledge those who never returned.
Who knows how many beyond our community will be affected listening to the haunting melody and even just the first verse? "My black eye weeps a suffering tear, Painful dark memories of 100 years. My heart wilts, my soul is denied, I cry out for truth for those who died."
Dr. Kay Mouradian is an educator, filmmaker, and author of My Mother's Voice, a book depicting her mother's story as a victim and survivor of the Armenian Genocide. She also wrote, narrated, and co-produced My Mother's Voice, a documentary based on her book. She holds a doctorate in education from Nova Southeastern University and holds degrees from Boston University and UCLA.
By Melissa Lake
I used to be Armenian,
until they took that from me too.
Except they made me better.
Now I am a chimera of all the things they could not kill:
a descendant of a people who could not break.
I have evolved to be smarter and more powerful and stronger.
They killed me and created something better:
gave me an echoing howl and a tougher hide and razor teeth. Now I have claws that sink in and won't let go.
I would never have been born if they weren't afraid of what I could be. Now I'm greater than I ever was.
I stand at their doorway, heavy breath at their neck, blood dripping from my muzzle. They are afraid of the monster they created.
And they should be.
April 24, 2016 April 24, 2016 / JM	/ 2 Comments
Story by Mayram Tikoyan Artinian
Translation by Emma Artinian Soghomonian
Edited by Missak Artinian
Of the eight children my parents had during their marriage, I was the first born, named Mayram in memory of my father's mother, who he lost contact with at eight years old during the Armenian Genocide. All eight of us kids were born in Aleppo, Syria in a community full of Armenians who were mostly survivors. My father, Setrak Tikoyan, was one of them. He once told me his story of survival. This is what he said, as I remember it:
"My daughter, I was only eight years old when the genocide was perpetrated on our people. I remember my extended family all lived in the Palu region of Western Armenia. When we sat down for dinner, there were 40 spoons scooping up food at our table. There were four brothers, their wives and children and grandchildren.
When the genocide began, we were driven out of our homes. My brother and I started walking with our mom to an unknown destination. I can hardly remember how long we walked when I realized I was separated from my mother.
I managed to sneak away from the masses by walking through an alley and into a small village. At one point, I met a man who proceeded to take me to his home. He gave me bread and said I could stay with them and work as a shepherd to herd his sheep. I stayed there as long as I could manage. But I was determined to leave.
One day, I took some bread and escaped to another village. It certainly is a long story how I travelled from village to village, begging for bread or food. I guess I had life in me strong enough to survive. It pains me to remember or talk about that period in my life. I just can't bear reminiscing about those tragic times.
After several years I ended up in an orphanage. After some time, the orphanage was visited by American missionaries who gathered the orphans and transported them to Aleppo, Syria. I was part of the group of orphans who travelled with them. When I was there, I searched for my mother and younger brother, Marsoub, who was in my mother's arms when we separated. But regrettably I had no luck."
Tears streamed down his face as he told this story, as painful memories flooded back into his consciousness. After wiping his tears, he took me into his arms, and said, "You're just like my mother." He spoke of her often, sharing memories he had of her from his childhood. "I remember one day, my father was building a house for us in Palu, and she worked right alongside him and the construction workers. Then through some freak accident, one of the walls that was built collapsed on top of her, but she came out of the rubble unscathed. From that day on, I knew my mother was invincible."
"I will find her," he once told me. "My heart tells me I will find her. She appears in my dreams so often. I don't know where she is, or whether she is alive. But I will never give up."
One summer in Aleppo, Syria, my father and I were sitting on our porch when our neighbor Lusig Nene was returning home from church.
"God bless you, Setrak," she greeted my father. "Today at church we were surprised by a visit of an elderly lady who was dressed in Kurdish attire. I asked her what she was doing at our church, and to our surprise, she started speaking Armenian. So I asked her where she came from. And you'll never believe it. She said she was married in Palu and moved to Kharpert with her husband, who was the son of a priest."
"Did she say her name?" My father asked.
"Yes. Her name is Anna."
My father was stunned for a moment. He realized the description fit his long lost cousin from his father's side. Excitedly, my parents got dressed. Lusig Nene said Anna was staying with a local family called Haroutioun. A few hours passed, and my parents returned with an elderly woman accompanying them.
My father called all of us kids and introduced us one by one to the visitor. "This is my eldest daughter, Mayram, named after my mother. This is my eldest son, Thomas, named after my father."
We each took turns greeting the elderly lady and kissing her hand in a welcoming gesture and called her grandmother, but my father corrected us by saying, "No, children, she is not your grandmother. You can call her aunt."
After the introductions and initial discussions, my Aunt Anna, as we started calling her, delivered stunning news to my father. She said, "Setrak, your mother is alive! I saw her about a year ago in a village called Aslan Dashi." My father was beside himself with joy. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He asked her for any details she could remember.
The very next morning, when I woke up, my father was gone. He had gone off in the early hours of dawn to track down his mother. Probably a week's time passed as we were waiting for his return, when we saw a taxi pull up in front of our residence. We ran out to see our father helping an elderly woman out of the car.
I noticed that she was wearing a white head scarf and was dressed in Kurdish attire. My mother tried helping the lady, but my father informed her that her legs were broken and that she could not walk. Then my father picked her up gently from the car and brought her into our home where he sat her down.
For the following weeks, I remember our home became a revolving door of visitors wanting to see her and extol in the union of a mother and her son after 32 years. Friends, family, neighbors, acquaintances alike filled our home. The visitors had many questions for my father.
"How did you find your mother? How did you know for sure she was truly your mother after 32 years?"
My father would recount the events as they had transpired:
"When I got on the road that morning, I rented a car and drove straight down to Arab Punar, a small Kurdish village around 35 kilometers east of the Euphrates where I had some relatives. Before I continued on my journey I wanted to have security in case of any trouble. I asked around to find out who the village magistrate was. My relatives took me to the magistrate. I asked him if he would accompany me on my trip to Aslan Dashi to help me find my mother. He agreed.
Together we set off for Aslan Dashi via boat. On the way there, I told him my story: 'When I survived the genocide, I was eight years old and was separated from my mother during the deportation. All these years I have searched for her to no avail. But recently I was tipped off that my mother may be residing in Aslan Dashi so I am going there to find her. My full name is Setrak Tikoyan, my father's name is Thomas and I have a younger brother who my mom was carrying in her arms during the deportation. He was two years old, and named Marsoub. We are from the village of Palu. And my mother's name is Mayram.'
The magistrate listened to me closely, and he said, 'When we reach the village and find the woman named Mayram, I advise that you not enter her home. I will go in and ask her questions to determine if she is your mother. That way if she is not your mother, you are not involved.'
We arrived in Aslan Dashi and went around town asking the names of any elderly lady we came across. We asked if they knew anyone by the name of Mayram. For days we asked, but no luck. One day, the magistrate came across an elderly woman named Mayram. He brought her to me and asked if she was my mother. I took one look and immediately knew she wasn't the one. I started feeling very depressed and disillusioned. But nevertheless we proceeded with our search, asking passersby if there was a Mayram in town.
Finally, one villager we came across said she knew a woman by the name of Mayram who lives in a tent not far from where we were. We followed his directions and came upon the tent. The magistrate advised me to stay outside the tent. He went in and I heard him greeting a woman and asking her name. She answered, 'Mayram.' The magistrate then asked her where she was from. 'I'm a Kurd', she answered. He asked for her original ethnicity. She said sadly, 'What does it matter?'
After persisting with more questions, finally she gave in. 'I'm Armenian. A long time ago I had a husband from Palu. His name was Thomas.'
'Did you have any children?' the magistrate asked her.
'Yes, I had two children. The oldest was Setrak. The youngest was named Marsoub. I lost my Setrak during the genocide. I was never able to find him. My youngest grew ill and died when he was a teenager here with me. I am now married to a Kurd. I can no longer walk anymore because four years ago I heard from a villager that there was a man named Setrak in a nearby village. I hurriedly got on a horse and raced to that village to find him. But in that town the horse got spooked when we came across cars and started jumping violently. I was thrown off the horse, fell and broke my legs. I was brought back home but nobody helped me. I remain in this tent because I cannot take care of myself or leave. This Kurd husband gives me a piece of bread every day to survive.'
'If you were to see your son Setrak, would you recognize him?' the magistrate asked her.
'Yes.'
'How?'
'He has a mark on his wrist from an accident when he hurt his arm as a child.'
The magistrate finally called me into the tent. I was expecting to see my young mother as I remembered her 32 years ago, maybe somewhat aged. But I was shocked and heartbroken to see her handicapped and in such a dire situation. I went over to her, held her hand, and looked into her eyes.
She didn't have to look at my wrist to recognize me. I kneeled down and scooped her into my arms, both of us weeping together, overjoyed at this unexpected and long-awaited reunion.
The magistrate finally interjected and asked my mother, 'Do you want to come with us to live with your son? Do you want to see your grandchildren?'
'With all my heart,' she answered."
Mayram Tikoyan only lived nine months at our house in Aleppo before resting in peace. Before she died, she would randomly start singing a religious hymn, "Soorp Garabed volor molor." The visitors from all over Aleppo would leave our house weeping with sadness and heartache and cathartic joy for the reunion. Many thought she held onto her life only long enough to see her beloved son and his family and to bless them with her love and longing. I believed that too, but I also thought something different. I thought she lived long enough so she could finally rest in peace in an Armenian cemetery, where she belonged.
Mayram Kassabian Tikoyan, circa 1947
Setrak and Mary Tikoyan with Mayram Tikoyan Artinian and her four brothers.
June 1, 2015 January 5, 2016 / JM	/ Leave a comment
As we end our year-long journey, we would like to thank you for reading our words, sharing your own, sparking meaningful discussions, and taking part in spreading our stories to all corners of the world. We will maintain our site and ensure continuous access to our work.
Sirov,
Team 99andCounting
We Are Honest Soldiers
May 31, 2015 May 31, 2015 / JM	/ Leave a comment
By Taniel Aram (Guest Contributor)
Grandma raises her index finger high into the air, waving in a circular motion as vibrations of the plucked qanun strings pass through the iPad speakers. Badalian's voice comes next and with a prideful smile, Grandma starts singing alongside him.
"Մենք անկեղծ զինուոր ենք, առանց ի վիճակ, Ուխտել ենք ծառայել երկար ժամանակ:"
Hayk and Pel. The Battle of Avarayr. Survival after 1915. Through the annals of history, defiance has been an unwavering characteristic, a defining trait, of the Armenian people.
Existence is given to us. But defiance, defiance is earned, honored, mourned or canonized, through action, in a collective pursuit of justice.
Historical consensus indicates Armenian defiance as best represented by sharp wit, innovation, a moral compass for justice, or resistance to submission, rather than military might. Outmanned and outgunned, Karabakh was liberated with an impressive tactical strategy. Operation Nemesis members planned obsessively and took justice into their own hands, despite a cold shoulder from allied intelligentsia. And of course the 250 Armenian intellectuals, the first targets of the Armenian Genocide, who were murdered for representing these very values of intellect as leaders of the Armenian people.
While military resistance can be interpreted as a form of defiance, what that struggle stood for, as a last effort to resist extinction and protect a race in its rightful homeland, was a more accurate definition for the Armenian case. "Ազատութիւն կամ մահ," the Armenians shouted, an ode to American patriot Patrick Henry.
Grandma follows Badalian word for word. I see the emotion in her eyes as she continues to sing:
"Արիւն, սուր ու հուր, պատերազմի դաշտ կը սպասեն մեզի:"
The timeless ballad takes on Armenian resistance in the military sense. With trust betrayed, unanswered calls for help, thousands of churches and schools burned, and an entire civilization destroyed, the bravest of Armenian men and women took up arms to defend their villages and save their families. In the absence of leading Armenian intellectuals, the fedayi became the zinvor, and the zinvor, the fedayi.
The song reaches its emotional apex as grandma clenches her fist and pounds the breakfast room table, singing with hearty pride:
"Համոզուած ենք, որ միայն զէնքով կայ հայոց փրկութիւն:"
She takes a breath and stops singing for a moment, reflective on her family's story of survival, yet afraid of changing times.
The songs and stories of old are nostalgic, but are, after all, at risk of fading. Fading in a world of multi-million dollar Turkish denialist campaigns, in a world of corrupt, tainted oil money in Azerbaijan, and in the evolving geopolitics of the modern world.
Defiance. Defiance is our answer to this shifting landscape.
We are the new generation of Armenian intellectuals; lawyers, investment bankers, entrepreneurs, innovators, scientists, doctors, professors, clergymen, and researchers. We honor our ancestors and uphold moral integrity in our collective pursuit of justice. In thinking critically, chasing success and innovation, and challenging the status quo, we have returned to our roots of defiance, where the intellectual is the zinvor, and the zinvor, the intellectual.
Let's ask ourselves- if we were alive on April 24, 1915, would we have been arrested for our leadership, based on our life accomplishments to this point in time? Our answer should be yes. If it isn't, we have work to do.
Before she resumes singing, I correct Grandma:
"Համոզուած ենք, որ միայն գրիչով կայ հայոց փրկութիւն:"
By way of intellect, our defiance was, and anew is, our means for survival. As for the pen, that's our weapon of choice.
Born in Germany and raised in New York City, Taniel Aram now divides his time between scouring the ancient ruins of fallen civilizations and surfing the waters of Southern California. He holds three different degrees rooted in Literature and Anthropology from three different Ivy League universities, one of which he now conducts research for. Taniel still finds time in his busy schedule to explore the outdoors with his rescue golden retriever Dickens, swim with sharks, and run the occasional triathlon.
Msho Khr
May 13, 2015 May 13, 2015 / JM	/ 1 Comment
By Natalie Kamajian (Guest Contributor)
The Unity of my people.
Depends on my legs and internal rhythms
knowing these dances better than I do.
My soul understands the meaning of unity.
To be united, is to reach
beyond the self
& to become
One //
Movement //
Why speak of social change when we know not how to trust in Armenian dance?
Armenian dance is…
strength //
it is wisdom //
Armenian dance knocks you off of your ego,
and tells you to shut up, and F.E.E.L.
Feel.
Feel the Dhol. Feel your brothers and sisters. And Move.
Ձախ—ձախ, աչ աչ ձախ—աչ աչ ձախ
"say it in your sleep," said one ֆեդայի
"you will need it one day", said Մայրիգ
To surrender to your movement
is to resist your erasure.
When you dance Մշո Խըռ…
Natalie Kamajian works at a community and economic development organization designing innovative solutions to responsibly revitalize low-income, urban areas around Los Angeles. After living in Հայաստան for a year she unearthed, as Charlemagne once put it, "her second soul." She is an inbetweener: never here nor there, never making sense and never wanting to and liking it that way. Natalie loves to write but she feels life moves too fast, its moments too precious sometimes to do anything other than live it. Lover of lavender ice cream, homemade halva and handmade soaps; Gardening's worst gardener and biggest fan; and best friend to both the young & elderly but not really the folks in between causing all the trouble. She practices traditional Armenian ethnographic folk dancing and will revel at any chance to do a mean Մշո Խըռ to some live dhol and zurna. She will gladly bring out her inner թագուհի when necessary and believes that only when she contradicts herself, is she able to seek truth. Check out her other poems, These Miraculous Hands and Kochari.
Our Old Backyard
By Nora Serghany (Guest Contributor)
Let the night vie and struggle to shadow the land, but the light of truth will always pierce the darkness.
Nora Serghany is a 22-year-old Buffalo native who subsists off coffee fumes and late night studying. She is currently studying medicine and has a passion for writing, inspired by Russian novelists. More of her work can be found here.
Melissa Haygan Lake
April 27, 2015 / JM	/ Leave a comment
I wince as my professor calls out the attendance; "HAY GAN" he says, in two sharp, nasally syllables. "Actually, it's pronounced like Hi-Gone." He doesn't correct himself and continues down the list. "Haygan" I say again, interrupting him. "It was my grandmother's name. Today is the anniversary of our genocide."
It is strange to think the one thing that we use to label ourselves for our entire lives, our name, is not even something we are free to choose. Our most constant and indelible part of our identity is often chosen before we even take our first gasp of air, gifted to us by people who are virtual strangers. And yet, somehow, our names come to define us intrinsically. How strange the turbulent mix of fate and destiny and lack of free will melds together in a near perfect form millions of times a day to blindly identify an entire future. And yet, regardless of all this lack of choice, more often than not, that name that was chosen before we were ever given a chance to form our own presence can come to define us more than any other nomenclature we could staple to our persona.
I used to say that the only gift my grandmother ever gave me was my middle name, and while I know now that that statement is inherently false, as my grandmother bestowed countless intangible gifts like courage and strength and history upon me, my grandmother's christening gift to me is my strongest connection to my heritage.
I used to hate my middle name. How bitter I was, surrounded in a sea of Marie-s and Ann-s, with a name no one could neither pronounce nor spell, a remnant of a people and a culture no one knew about. My cultural identity became reduced to the abbreviation "H." and was something I neither talked about nor wanted to talk about. I was ignorantly ashamed of a remnant of a history more powerful and awe-inspiring than I could even fathom, and in my shame, I disgraced a culture far more noble than I.
For years I was H. , a one letter symbol of my cultural denial. I reveled in my ease at being able to conform; a white girl with a white name. But blind conformity is boring and bland. My whiteness was not nearly as fun or entertaining or interesting as my true ethnic heritage. Being Armenian actually was a lot cooler than being like everyone else, it turned out. So when I learned to embrace my ancestry, when I learned to love being Armenian more than I loved fitting in, I became Haygan again.
But Haygan came at a price, it came with a burden of history and memory and sadness. Haygan came with a sense of duty, because remembering is a holy, sacred thing, and it is a calling all Armenians share. Being born Armenian, being gifted with the name of Haygan, instilled in me an obligation to do what the world could not, bring justice to the generations of people whose future was never formed because of one of the greatest crimes against humanity to ever occur.
But there was a sense of beauty in being born Armenian as well, for we are a rich culture not defined solely by our tragic past. For a people who have suffered so much and who have experienced no closure, we are lively and welcoming and jovial. Our tiny country and its hundreds of diasporas has a voice louder than that of nations 100 times its size. We are powerful and determined and tenacious. Now, more than ever, the world is hearing what we have to say, and they are acting with us.
My grandmother is the strongest woman I have never met, gone before I had the chance to form in my mother's womb. A woman born in the middle of a period of unspeakable blight, may the privilege and opportunity I was conversely born into paint me as the phoenix rising from her ashes, from the ashes of her past and her culture's history, and may I bring her honor by carrying her name with the same cloak of fierce pride and strength that she shrouded herself in.
So today, on the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, I am not Melissa Lake. On a day that reminds us of the egregious cost that comes from forgetting, I am the name that lies hidden, sandwiched between a chorus of cultural assimilation. Today, and all days, I am Haygan.
Kochari
April 26, 2015 April 26, 2015 / JM	/ 1 Comment
stands on the shoulders of our parents
on the bent backs of our grandparents
on the snapped necks of our ancestors
listen not, to what you think your people need
we know nothing without ancestors…ancient sisters
//my first sisters//
they have bled, knelt, marched, killed, hurt
loved, wrote, built and buried
so that I can breathe "hye"
& ignite fires within my spirit
selfless men
when I dance Քոչարի…
Natalie Kamajian works at a community and economic development organization designing innovative solutions to responsibly revitalize low-income, urban areas around Los Angeles. After living in Հայաստան for a year she unearthed, as Charlemagne once put it, "her second soul." She is an inbetweener: never here nor there, never making sense and never wanting to and liking it that way. Natalie loves to write but she feels life moves too fast, its moments too precious sometimes to do anything other than live it. Lover of lavender ice cream, homemade halva and handmade soaps; Gardening's worst gardener and biggest fan; and best friend to both the young & elderly but not really the folks in between causing all the trouble. She practices traditional Armenian ethnographic folk dancing and will revel at any chance to do a mean Մշո Խըռ to some live dhol and zurna. She will gladly bring out her inner թագուհի when necessary and believes that only when she contradicts herself, is she able to seek truth. More of her poetry can be found here.


text:
class AuthenticationService {
  constructor($state, Restangular, tokenService) {
    "ngInject";
    this.$state = $state;
    this.Restangular = Restangular;
    this.tokenService = tokenService;
  }

  login(username, password) {
    const usernameAndPassword = username + ":" + password;
    const encodedUsernameAndPassword = btoa(usernameAndPassword); // btoa() encodes a string in base-64
    const authorizationHeader = 'Basic ' + encodedUsernameAndPassword;

    return this.Restangular.all('solar-api/api/public/login').customPOST({}, '', {}, {'Authorization': authorizationHeader});
  }

  logout() {
    this.tokenService.removeAccessToken();
    this.tokenService.removeRefreshToken();
    this.$state.go('login');
  };
}

export default AuthenticationService;

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Jack Ashworth (born 3 July 1995) is an English professional rugby league footballer who plays as a  forward for Huddersfield Giants in the Betfred Super League and the England Knights at international level.

He previously played for St Helens in the Super League, and has spent time on loan from Saints at the Rochdale Hornets in the Championship 1, and the Sheffield Eagles and the Leigh Centurions in the Betfred Championship.

Background
Ashworth was born in Rochdale, Greater Manchester, England. In October 2020 Ashworth appeared in court, where he pled guilty to accusations of punching and damaging a dry wall at his girlfriend's house on Christmas Day 2018. He was also accused of stealing £100 from a Christmas card, to which charge he pled not guilty. Following this court appearance he was remanded on bail, with a trial to follow at Burnley Magistrates' Court in February 2021.

Education
Jack Ashworth attended St Cuthbert's RC Business and Enterprise College in Rochdale from 2006 until 2011. He then went on to do a sports course at Hopwood Hall College Middleton.

Career

St Helens
Ashworth made his Saints début on 6 April 2015 in a Super League match against Hull F.C.

During 2015, Ashworth also played for Rochdale Hornets in the Championship on Dual registration.

In the 2016 season, Ashworth played an outstanding game against Warrington, and made a Man of the Match performance against Hull F.C.

Ashworth joined up with the Sheffield Eagles on Dual registration on 31 January 2018. This is ahead of their first league match against Dewsbury.

He played in the 2019 Challenge Cup Final defeat by Warrington at Wembley Stadium.

He played in the 2019 Super League Grand Final victory over Salford at Old Trafford.

Huddersfield Giants
On 30 November 2020, it was announced that Ashworth had signed a two-year deal with Huddersfield.

Leigh Centurions (loan)
On 11 July 2021, it was reported that he had signed for Leigh in the Super League on season-long loan

In round 17 of the 2021 Super League season, he was sent off for fighting in Leigh's 50-6 loss against Wigan.

International career
In 2019 he was selected for the England Knights against Jamaica at Headingley Rugby Stadium.

References

External links
St Helens profile
SL profile
Saints Heritage Society profile

1995 births
Living people
England Knights national rugby league team players
English rugby league players
Featherstone Rovers players
Halifax R.L.F.C. players
Huddersfield Giants players
Leigh Leopards players
Rochdale Hornets players
Rugby league centres
Rugby league players from Rochdale
Rugby league second-rows
Sheffield Eagles players
St Helens R.F.C. players

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


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text:
Q: Number theory/combinatorial proof for cycliclity of $(\mathbb{Z}/p\mathbb{Z})^\times$ I have tried everything I could and I think I'm conceding. I am trying to find a prove that $(\mathbb{Z}/p\mathbb{Z})^\times$ is cyclic without using FTFAG and theory of finite fields.
Does anyone have a nice combinatorial/number theory proof they know of?
Edit: I would even be satisfied with a linear algebra/analysis proof.

A: Of course,  the group has order $\varphi (p)=p-1$.  I would suggest consulting Gauß's Disquisitiones Arithmeticae (1801), where he is supposed to have given two proofs of the existence of primitive elements (one constructive).  I believe this would do it, as you would then have an element of order $p-1$.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


Fine French Art Deco two doors rosewood buffet or cabinet by Vallin.
Small French Art Deco two doors rosewood buffet or cabinet.
Good original condition. Minor wear consistent with age and use.
Soyez le premier à laisser votre avis sur "Small French Art Deco Rosewood Buffet" Annuler la réponse.


On our last stop in India, we were more than ready to be on our way home. After a year and a half teaching in South Korea and then another four and a half months traveling through Southeast Asia and India, I was ready to see my family and enjoy the comforts of home. But we still had a couple more nights in India and so off we went, into the streets of Mumbai.
We walked. We ate. We walked. We went shopping. We walked. We drank coffee. We slept. We left.


I am installing gentoo on a Server, which is a hosted vps. Thats why I am installing it on a luks encrypted drive. But what if the hoster takes a snapshot while the vm is running. Will he be able to see all data of the virtual harddisk, or does encryption prevent them from accessing the data on this Setup?
Snapshot of a hard drive is not a big deal. Things are getting more funny when you notice they also have full access to RAM that does not reside on LUKS.
If you don't trust your hoster the encryption is broken. Virtualization gives easy access to keys in RAM.
Thanks guys for clarifiying, so Luks encryption does not make sense in this case. Thanks for pointing that out.
It depends on why you want disk encryption. The hoster dumping your RAM to get keys is a very specialized scenario.
Encryption still helps in the case that your hoster sells broken HDDs on Ebay (or puts one in another costumer's server by accident). It also might help in case of bugs in the virtualisation solution that might give neighboring VMs physical access to your disk.


First time at Hazel Grove. Very welcoming and helpful staff.
A really nice course, even in the wind and rain.
Some challenging holes and the greens were exceptional.
Didn't use the catering so can't comment on that.
WELL WORTH PLAYING AND A GOOD BREAFAST TO FINISH. I PLAYED THIS COURSE 3 MOTHS AFTER A STROKE AND 18 MOTHS AFTER A QUADRUPLE BI PASS AND YES I WAS ON A BUGGY BUT I WALKED AS WELL AND I AM AGED 71 USED TO PLAY OF 10 AND REALLY ENJOYED THE COURSE.
Played here a few years ago and it was a pleasure to play again. Course in good condition despite the period of hot weather, Greens fast and good variety of holes, really enjoyed the round and would very much recommend.
Some great deals on teeofftimes here and well worth the money.
Course is in excellent condition, many holes have a path for carts next to them so the fairways have not been ruined.
Played on here on Monday, all started off OK, a bit slow, but not to bad and then I got to the fourth hole, play had ground to a halt an extremely slow 4 ball holding up the two ball behind them, very frustrating, but that was just the start, I then had 3 ignorant members teeing off while I was waiting to take my second shot, one narrowly missing me and then going for the green with me on it, I was fuming, it was taking 15 minutes a hole because of the four ball. A lot of things happened, two of the temp tees on the back nine were so spongey that when I went to tee off the ball rose up while I sunk and to top things off on the 18th I had a short chip and putt to go, was just about to chip on when the greenkeepers decided to drive on the green rather than wait 30 seconds, there was no one behind me for about 4 holes after I skipped a hole to get in front of the four ball. I had lost all interest by this point, picked up my ball and sarcastically thanked the ignorant greenkeepers, I won't be going back, although not all staff and members are bad, the two members ahead of me were nice blokes and down to earth, shame about the others.
Thank you for your recent review. We do apologise for the pace of play on the day you visited us. As golfers we do rely on the etiquette of others and hope everyone plays within the spirit of the game.
The tee mats have been a necessity throughout the winter months with terrible weather, we were hoping to be back on the grass tees by the end of March but mother nature thought otherwise!
We will mention the incident on the 18th to our green staff to understand why this happened.
Great challenging mixture of holes.
Good condition. Greens emaculate for this time of year. "VERY TIDY COURSE".
Despite the rain we have had and the amount of water on the course, the greens were in very good condition. This is a splendid track with a great mixture of par 4,5 and testing par 3,s.
All staff very pleasant and helpful.
Will definitely be back when hopefully the course has dried out !!
We played our RCSL National Matchplay Team Finals over 2 days. We have nothing but praise for James, the Professional and his team, for looking after our needs. We were 4 teams made up of 6 players in each team from all across the UK. The package arranged by the organiser included all golf, meals, free practice balls on the Pitching practice area and a private function area set aside for our meals and presentation.
We were so impressed with the level of service and customer experience that we have booked to come back in 2018 for the same event.
The course off the whites was a good test of golf and there were may holes where risk and reward paid off. Split tees on the second day made sure we all finished in 4 hours. Great course.
Having lived in the area most of my life and played many courses in the area this was my first visit to Hazel Grove and I will be returning.
As we had an early tee time the pro allowed us tee off early, we had the course to ourself, with a ladies match following us. The course was in excellent presentation, a few holes in we came across people maintaining the plants and trees that surround the course and set the scene of the course well. While green keeping staff focused on the course itself.
There is a number of tricky holes that make you think about club and shot selection. The greens were in perfect order and fast. I personally took a while to get used to the green pace.
The members were very plesant and said hello as we passed them.
I would recommend this course to anyone looking for a very good quality course at a reasonable price.
What a great place to play golf. Some brilliant holes. Undulating greens. Water in front of the green holes. Would I play again? Sure would !!! Clubhouse is a little dark, but that's to be expected of golf clubhouses. I didn't use the changing room so cannot comment on this. Lad in the shop was ok but could have been a bit friendlier, you're representing the club when you're in their mate. It's not about acting cool.


text:
Paul Simon in Concert: Live Rhymin' è un album discografico dal vivo di Paul Simon, pubblicato dall'etichetta discografica Columbia Records nel 1974.

Registrazioni estratte nel corso di alcuni tour effettuati nel 1973-'74, in alcuni brani intervengono come ospiti gli Urubamba ed The Jessy Dixon Singers.

Tracce
Lato A

Lato B

Edizione CD del 2011, pubblicato dalla Columbia Records (88697 82000 2)

Musicisti
 Paul Simon - chitarra, voce
Ospiti:
 Jessy Dixon Singers - accompagnamento vocale, cori (brano: Jesus Is the Answer)
 Jessy Dixon - pianoforte
 Urumbamba (Emilio Arteaga, Jorge Cumbo, Jorge Milchberg, Juan Dalera (1973), Uña Ramos (1974)) - (brani: El Condor Pasa, Duncan e The Boxer)

Note

Collegamenti esterni

  (mese e anno pubblicazione dell'album)
  (durata brani CD)


Vigorous variety, erect carriage and an average of 3 side shoots by central shoot.
Approximately 85% and 60% of central and lateral shoots, respectively, are fruitful. Productive variety.
Large leaves, spaced teeth. Intermediate apex form and curve cross-section.
Full flowering takes place between the first ten days of November (November 8th).
Conic panicle with abundant flowering (average of 200 flowers / panicle) of white colour and 6.26% fruit set.
Ripening in the 1st week of May (May 3rd ).
Rounded-elongated fruit, slight angular cross section, obtuse peduncle's area, slight opened calix cavity and flat apex. Both skin and flesh are yellow-orange.
Medium weight of 65.0 g., Medium caliber 50.03 mm. and thickness of the pulp 11.17 mm. Easy peel and good tasty fruit.
Soluble solids: 10.86 º Brix.
Acidity: 13.35 g / l AC. malic acid.
Elliptical seeds, medium weight of 7.30 g. and an average of 2.3 seeds per fruit.
Variety coming from a germinated seed in Algeria but commercially multiplied in Callosa d'Ensarrià. It is the variety grown per excellence in the Valencian Community, especially in the province of Alicante (95%). It has good vegetative features and very good organoleptic characteristics.


Most email clients can be configured to use the UIC Campus Email Directory (LDAP) to search for email addresses by name.
Delegate authority in each campus unit can update UIC Liaisons (REACH, Phonebook contacts, Network Security, EcoReps and Webmasters) by using the Liaison Manager.
Directory entries for students, including UIC NetIDs, are generated automatically upon admission to UIC.
Directory entries for faculty, staff and external affiliates are created by designated Phonebook Contacts. To locate the Phonebook Contact for a particular campus unit, see the Departments A-Z unit listing.


Do not let age fool you on this beauty! This home has been completely updated and truly cared for. The split floor plan and levels are perfect for everyone to have their space. The Dual kitchen is perfect for the family that loves to cook and is open to the living room and dining area with french doors that open to the back patio. There is a large loft bedroom upstairs with it's own 1/4 bath. The home has newer windows, New water softner, dual heating system, refreshed paint, etc. You can enjoy the above ground spa in the large back yard that also offers 2 additional outbuildings. There is a 3 car garage with a 900 foot loft. Besides the beautiful landscaping this home has to offer there is a hot water spout in the front to melt the snow! No slippery steps! Make an appointment today to see this wonderful home. Be sure and view the virtual tour!
HWY 2 to Spruce-South to Oriole-West to PIQ.
I am interested in 997 Oriole Road, Wrightwood, CA 92397.


text:
⇒ Curiosity Brings Change
Curiosity Brings Change
akeldama Posts: N/A
:: :: ::
Akeldama
Akeldama was growing bored. Bored with her current life, her surroundings, and as unusual as it seemed, her solitude. She had lived in the same area since her parents had abandoned her, not straying too far from where she last saw their dark coats. She had lived here all her life, and was finally tired of seeing the same old scenery. It was time for a change. It was time for her to move on, to seek out a new chapter for her story. There was much to be seen in the world. How would she ever grow if she stuck around in the same place for years on end? She couldn't live like this. Not anymore.
The mare rose to her feet, shaking off the cold earth that stuck to her fur, cobwebs snapping from between the prongs of her golden antlers. Sorry, spiders. I've got to go. Akeldama stood, her eyes panning over the surrounding foliage. Enormous pine trees jutted up from the earth, their rich green needles forming a beautifully shaded home for the solitary mare. It had been her safe place since birth. A sigh escaped her lips, but she paid no mind. It hurt to leave here, but it must be done.
Pushing herself onward, Akeldama began her trek towards a new home. Every step was difficult, and she could feel herself tearing up. No. I can't stay here. I must move on. Akeldama trudged forward, forcing herself to keep her gaze ahead of her.
The mare had walked for a couple miles at the least, her aching hooves begging her to stop. She had reached a different area; the trees here were different, larger, more welcoming. Akeldama looked around, her nostrils picking up the scents of many other horses. Who was here? Was she in some sort of danger? Where had she ended up? Confused and somewhat scared, Akeldama forced herself to put on a stoic expression, marching forward into the unknown. She had to be brave.
Mortuus Nox Posts: 187
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 3.5 | def: 10 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: Immortal HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Mortuus Nox
Your fears have just become all too real
His dead gray eyes looked ahead of him, he knew he was far from what he called his new home at the Basin but he was in the place that was a strange home like feeling to him. He was i the threshold once again and he didn't mind it. The large bellowing trees made a dark canopy over the ghostly stallion, and the shadows danced on his onyx pelt like demons around a fire in hell. Mortuus was a ghastly stallion that only stood about 15'2, but he never let that hold him back and the large muscles were proof that he would be able to take down something twice his size if not bigger. His skin moved over his large muscles making the laced pelt of the stag stretch and contract with every motion. Large cracked hooves stomped against the ground cracking every little stick and leaf under his weight making them scream with pain before their death. He dragged his body weaving through each tree like a dead body with his heavily crowned skull low to the ground. The tangled tresses of his mane and tail drug behind him like a severed head on a string bouncing behind him. He was almost equivalent to the devil himself, if not even more eerie and ghost like. He moved as if he were floating but his frame hung heavy with pain and grief from the past, but that was old and worn on him the pain was no longer felt by this stallion.
He then heard movement in the woods, perhaps another creature that was lighter than himself. Then as he grew closer he heard the footsteps heavy as if the other body was large than himself. A smile flooded his maw as he grew closer trying to find the holder of the steps in the wood. Then he saw a mare she was larger than himself, but he was much more muscled than the creature. She looked weary and worn, her frame hung with exhaustion. He watched in the shadows for a brief moment his morbid gray eyes bestowed on the mare. Then he decided to step out of the shadows like a monster creeping from under the bed "Hello my lady, you look worn and lost. Welcome to Helovia I am Mortuus Nox you may call me Mortuus or Nox either will work. What are you doing out here all alone and in the threshold?"" He questioned in a deep Latin accent that dripped from his mouth like crimson blood. He would offer the mare a home in the Basin if she wished to find a place that was welcoming.
OOC:: @Akeldama welcome to Helovia !! Im Dressy, i can help you out with what i know, but i havnt been here too long, but if you have any questions please ask !:)
Image Credits!
Please tag Mortuus Nox in all posts
magic & permanent injury is permitted excluding death.
It wasn't long before someone decided to approach the disoriented and anxious mare. Akeldama caught their scent as they approached, identifying it as a male before his ebony form came into view. Akeldama was already anxious enough, but now that she was alone with a stallion? Her nerves spiked, heart raced with fear of the unknown.
The nearing stallion was solid black, muscles rippling lightly as he approached her. His mane and tail looked to be made of the abyss, their dark tresses flowing behind him. Long, curving horns arched back from his head, a cuff around one with a glimmering emerald catching Akeldama's eye. His eyes were light, almost like her own, but his lacked any hints of blue. There was something oddly serene about the stallion's visage, but what exactly caused it, Akeldama couldn't pinpoint.
The stallion stopped ahead of her, keeping a respectable distance. Akeldama had half expected the man to get closer, invade her personal space, but was relieved to see that he had some manners. He greeted her, introducing himself as Mortuus Nox, and went on to ask why she was alone. Why she was alone? Akeldama had been alone for years! She couldn't seem to form the proper words to answer, so she paused, trying to reorganize her thoughts into coherent words.
"Nox... hm. My name is Akeldama, and I... I've been alone for many years. Decided a change of scenery would do me some good." There. That wasn't so hard! Akeldama mentally sighed with relief, glad she didn't stumble too badly. Though as she looked upon the stallion, her eyes narrowed. "What's a stallion doing on his own, anyways?" Her tone was condescending and suspicious, Akeldama taking a cautious step back.
((Hi Dressy! :D Thank you for offering me help and giving Akeldama someone to talk to! :) ))
@Mortuus Nox
The sun's bright light trickles through the trees, falling lazily on the figure of the blue mare, tucked away into a melting snowbank. The rays dance along the curve of her cheek, playing with the lines of her face until eventually, their golden fingers manage to peek through her eyelids. She blinks once against the brightness of day, slow and bleary, disoriented from the slumber that had taken her so suddenly, her pink tongue peeking out from behind her lips as she releases a dawdling yawn. It takes a long, groggy moment for her mind to catch up, for memories and images to spring back into her consciousness—but when it does, it's like a tidal wave when it all hits her.
"ASHAMIN!"
The stallion's name is a rasping gasp, choking from the sudden tightness of her throat and struggling into the cool spring air as though it is water rather than oxygen. Her white eyes grow wide, blinking rapidly as they adjust to the brilliance of the sun, her slender legs thrust forward as she struggles to lift herself to her hooves. The mare's muscles are slow to respond to her commands (still dazed with the lingering fog of sleep that clings to her awareness) and she stumbles forward several times before properly regaining her footing.
Flicking the length of her leonine tail out behind her, the unicorn mare urges herself forward, leaping into a canter. Like the strong tide of her father ocean, Tiamat surges through the woods. She doesn't yet care to consider where she is or how she had gotten here—she feels weird, like her body had been put on pause, and she is only just beginning to catch up—with only thoughts of the painted stallion and her parents whizzing and writhing chaotically through her mind's eye. "Ashamin?!" She calls breathlessly, the weight of the horror and pain crushing down on her chest.
It couldn't have been real.
Desperate, it is the sound of distant voices that manages to steal her attention, their echo ringing through her panic and forcing focus into the turmoil of her mind. Her breath pooling in wispy transparent vapors around her nostrils, Tiamat comes to a jarring halt, fluted ears pricked and rotating as she picks out the voice from the trees. Finally, it dawns on her that she is not in a place entirely unfamiliar—the Threshold being the origin of many here in Helovia—and the deep, coarse rumbling of another friend sparks recognition. An immediate rush of relief fills her bones and warms her muscles with the thought of someone familiar. Picking up a bouncing trot, the young unicorn follows their direction with zealous strides.
She draws near enough to hear the strange mare's introduction, breaking through the trees and stopping before them with bright, eager eyes. "Nox!" She breathes, her voice almost a sigh of relief when she sees him, offering a warm smile and reaching out to touch his cheek, "It is good to see you again, my friend." Feeling far more grounded now, Tiamat shifts her attention to the one she doesn't know, always keen on making a new friend. "Hello!" Her grin broadens happily, the relief in her expression too overwhelming now for her to fret over the chill that lingers hauntingly along her spine.
"Your name is Akeldama, you said? That's very pretty, I like it," her praise is nothing but sincere, dainty ears pressing forward as her eyes rest on the other mare's—as white as her own—with hopeful kindliness, "mine is Tiamat. It's nice to meet you! You're no longer alone, if you don't to be, at least." Tiamat, being the sociable and innocent young thing that she is, can't even fathom the desire to want to be alone, but she knows everyone is different. What's important is that they are here now for Akeldama, if she wishes them to be.
notes; Welcome again Maus!:D also, if you're interested (or confused), Tiamat is just waking up from her dream in passive mode, which is here.
@Akeldama
He smiled softly at the poor frightened mare. She did not look to off guard, but he could tell she was very uncomfortable with him standing there eventhough he stoof off a good amount of feet away for her. Maybe it was his ghostly, eerie appearance that never helped when meeting new people, but he was once always alone and never near others so he did not mind looking like a demonic being. His gray eyes watched the odd colored mare as if they were looking right through her sole. Not a speck of emotion laid deep within them. He had a blank look on his face and that same look remained while he waited for her to answer. She probable had not been around a stallion for a long time, but lucky for her he was not of any interest to try to make her his. He was just on a walk today and wondering around Helovia. When the frail mare spoke to him her words shook like a leaf in her chest and her name finally christened her tender shaking maw Akeldama.. What an interesting name. " Well there is nothing to be worried about Akeldama, i know what its like to be alone for so long. I lived alone since i was a tender age of one by myself, and i not here to do you any harm. I still enjoy being alone that is why i take walks through Helovia its a time for me to regather my thoughts. I decided i would stop through the Theshold To see if there were any lost souls like my self wondering through. It can be a scary place by yourself, and i know I am not the most joyful thing to be around here, but you look like you need some company. ". As his Latin words finished me smiled softly at the shy mare answering her questions with ease.
Then he heard another approaching the steps almost flustered as it arrived closer he turned his head to see Tiamat standing there. Her blue body was covered in a damp sweat as she called his name " Hello Love, Are you okay? "He smiled at the blue mare as she touched his cheek and he reached out and touched hers to comfort her and try to help relax a bit. Something about this little mare made him a different person " Well i am glad to see you here, i think you came at a wonderful time. I did not wish to scare our new friend, but that is very easy for me to do if you know what i mean." He smiled brightly again looking back to their friend. His large black legs shifted under his weight as he then looked back to Tiamat. Hopefully they will be able to bring her home with them to the Basin.
OOC:: Sorry for being short and crappy i gotta go to work!!
Ascended Helovian
Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
08-21-2015, 04:21 AM (This post was last modified: 08-21-2015, 04:21 AM by Mauja.)
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
[ thirding that welcome! ]
Darkness: shadows and poison, deathless silver—fog-gray, more like, the kind of mess you found when you've just crawled out of Hell.
Water: seaweeds and seashells, an ever-shifting shimmer like sun rays through rippling water. She's elegant next to the Devil she kisses.
Ice: glacial. That's simply all that he is—the rock-hard, unyielding, unforgiving ice beneath layers of soft, treacherous snow. But what he hides beneath, not even he is quite sure of.
And then, the Unknown—what element is she?
As Mauja neared them through the familiar spiderweb of trees something about her made him think of the wind. It wasn't her color—no no no, if anything it made him think of a desert shore underneath the full splendor of a golden, low moon—so maybe it was something in her voice, in her stance, in the slimness of her build and the wary elegance of her pose. He thought he (or well, Irma, the pale owl circling the gathering on silent wings) saw stubbornness in her, some kind of determination, the kind of hard edges you earn when you're tired. He thought about it as he moved, a silent remnant of winter slipping through the springtime forest. She stepped back from the black, tangled stallion, and Mauja's lips curved into a humorless smile. And this one hadn't even intruded too much on her space, like Caleb was wont to do.
Good thing the Basin had not sent its finest soldier today, then.
Mauja slipped out of the woodwork as Nox fell silent in the wake of Tiamat's simple joy. It reminded him of another mare, another time, another season, and another place; of a mare with a black-and-white body, every breath spreading the kind of joy she seemed made of, infectious and heartening and.. well, all sorts of things. He had said he was Mauja of nowhere, and to her, it had seemed like the loneliest thing ever.
"Greetings," he said, his voice tuned down but not a whisper—surprisingly light as it made its way out of his chest. His black-rimmed ears flicked forward, his pale face serene. The last time he'd been to the Threshold he'd left the gathering feeling shunned. Today, he felt better to begin with, so he hoped it wouldn't end the same way.
"I am Mauja, of the World's Edge. You're in a land known as Helovia, in a specific place simply called the Threshold. Crowds usually gather around newcomers here, so there's no need to worry about the attention you're attracting." This time, when his lips curved into a smile, it was small but light, reflecting the faint warmth of his pale eyes.
[ @Akeldama ]
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Before Nox had a chance to speak, another horse burst into their field of vision. This new female was blue like her, but much more vivid than her own coat. A single curved, ivory horn caught the mare's attention, and an unusual tail earned a brow raise from Akeldama. The new mare greeted Nox, the two horses must share a bond of some kind. This eased Akeldama's worries about rogue stallions, and she mentally breathed a sigh of relief.
The cerulean mare introduced herself as Tiamat, her kind demeanor and friendliness garnering a smile from Akeldama. "It's very nice to meet you as well." She dipped her head respectfully to Tiamat, glad to have another female presence in the area.
Nox began to speak up again, informing the clueless mare that she was in a land known as Helovia, more specifically, a territory known as the Threshold. She had just entered Helovia, and this was apparently an area that many horses gather in the hopes of meeting new friends. Nox was glad to be near Tiamat, and Akeldama was finally at ease with the two of them. Neither seemed to be giving off any dangerous energies so far.
The trio was enjoying a peaceful silence between exchanged words when a third stranger approached. This time, a white stallion emerged from the trees, his coat speckled with black spots. Blue eyes caught Akeldama's gaze quickly, an icy horn catching the light. He greeted her calmly and quietly, and instinctively, Akeldama took a step towards Tiamat, just in case.
The stallion introduced himself as Mauja, of a land called World's Edge. Akeldama figured she'd learn of these places with time, and decided not to ask. He informed her of her location in the Threshold, and she nodded. "I am aware, but thank you." Though her tone was curt, Akeldama meant no offense.
So now there were four. Looking around at the surrounding unicorns, Akeldama frowned a bit. Everyone here had horns, the closest resemblance to her antlers being Nox' spiraling horns. Hmm. Briefly glancing upward at the golden branches on her head, Akeldama looked to the others. "Well, I'm the odd one out. Everyone here has horns instead of antlers. Hm." She let out a quiet chuckle, knowing that she loved her own antlers. They acted as a crown to her, their golden twines accenting her blue coat naturally. She took great pride in them, but now felt like the odd horse, despite their regal appearance.
Where had these horses come from? Were they all rogues, the loners of the land, or did they belong to a herd? Were herds even a thing in this land? What if these horses were the expelled, the chased off members of a past herd? Allowing her curiosity to leak from her mind, she decided to ask. "Are you all herd members? Or are you all rogues, like me?"
((Thank you all for the welcomes!! I love this place already and everyone's characters are amazing!))
The ocean mare smiles bashfully when the scarred black stallion greets her, inquiring if she is alright. Her heart still thrums in her ears and the weight of dread and apprehension still tighten her chest, but she feels a temporary sort of relief now to be in the familiar company of a friend. "I'm better now," she says, allowing her grin to grow a little more confident on her lips. She would never lie to Nox of course, but there is a time and place for everything, and she doesn't need to worry everyone now with the subdued panic that lingers forebodingly in her mind, flashing at her ghastly images of fears she hopes to leave behind.
No, now is a time for Akeldama, and she gives the pretty antlered mare her attention willingly, wanting nothing more than to forget herself and offer aid to a stranger. After all, she had been that stranger once—several years ago, when the kind brown mare had taken her freely into her companionship and led her home. Home. Tiamat smiles, wanting to offer Akeldama such acceptance as she had received.
White eyes drift again to her dark friend when he continues, his words enticing a light chuckle from Tiamat's lips and she shakes her head, the shells tinkling in her mane. "There is nothing to be scared of, I promise. He's more bark than bite," she speaks to the other mare, casting a playful glance to Nox in her lighthearted tease, meaning only the best by it and wanting to ease the minor tension between the two. After all, the ocean mare knows nothing else of the black stallion. Despite the roughness of his appearance, she has seen the goodness in his heart, and believes unequivocally in its honest influence.
It is then when their company is joined by another, a black-spotted stallion that she has never seen before. Naturally Tiamat gives him a friendly smile as she would anyone else, although movement from the corner of her eye snags her attention, and she turns to see that Akeldama has shifted closer to her. The blue unicorn's grin softens, and she too moves just a little bit closer to the other mare, readily offering what ease she might need. The last thing she wants is for Akeldama to feel crowded or uncomfortable, but at the same time, she doesn't want the stallion—Mauja, he says—to feel shirked either.
"It's a pleasure, Mauja. I'm Tiamat," her smile widens again to flash the whiteness of her teeth—so childlike in her trusting of others—and she considers introducing the other two, but not wanting to force them into the spotlight, she allows them to do as they wish.
A dainty ear twisting with the midnight mare's voice, white eyes follow suit to look to her face. "Oh but your antlers are so lovely! Their color is stunning," Tiamat glows, admiring the golden crown atop the mare's head, before her gaze follows Akeldama's around their little gathering. "We all have different horns here; Helovia is full of a wide variety of individuals, as I'm sure you can guess. It's beautiful," had she been more exposed to the cold realities of the world, Tiamat might take note of the simple fact that they all are unicorns and the prejudices that some might call upon, but as it is, she only sees their companionship.
"I believe we all are members of a herd," she continues, "Nox here and I are from a herd called Aurora Basin, up North. It's a remarkable place." The ocean mare's features brighten at the mention of her homeland, obviously quite taken with it. It is her home, she loves it, and she feels honored to call it such. "Mauja, I believe you said you were from World's Edge?" She glances courteously to the spotted stallion, not knowing much more than the name of his land, before looking back to Akeldama. "And there are two other herds as well. You're welcome to join any of them, or also travel Helovia as an Outcast, which is simply someone who isn't connected to a herd—a rogue, as you said," Tiamat gives a little nod and a smile to her.
notes; I figured I'd leave the boys to explain more themselves so Tia doesn't take over xD
image credits | @Akeldama @Mortuus Nox @Mauja
08-24-2015, 08:03 PM (This post was last modified: 08-25-2015, 09:04 PM by Mortuus Nox.)
His heavy black body shifted moving his large pillars to see the third voice approaching them. It was deep but light, it was the voice of a stallion growing closer. He introduced himself a Mauja, he cold gray eyes looked over the stallions icy orbs. Nox watched with postmortem eyes as the stallion spoke, they had glazed gray film over them. His ghostly body was well muscled and covered in scars that would crisscross with bear skin peeking through his soft black pelt. As he listened to the stag he realized he was from the place where on of the mares that he met in the threshold was from. She had tried to get him to come back with her, but he decided to go to the basin with Rexanna. A sigh left his mouth as he turned back to Tiamat to listen to her speak a sigh of relief, then explain to the other mare he was more bark than bite. That may be true for right now, but he had a lot of bite festering within his soul that could snap at any time, but now was not that time. Then The blue mare went on to speak about her options in Helovia then he decided to speak up after the painted dark mare spoke about her odd antlers. "I am Nox .""he looked back to the spotted stallion"There are an odd array of horns and antlers around here. In all honestly most only have one horn i was blessed with two, like your self. Yours are just more spectacular and ornate than my own demonic ones. Anyways i was always a, so you say outcast before I came across Helovia and one of my friends guided me to the Basin,;where me and Tiamat are from like she said. I truly enjoy the Basin it is filled with a world of only unicorns, there are some hybrids with wings, but you will be amazed by the spectacular sights of all the Unicorns ;and the Basin mountains are splendidly gorgeous. We have everything a unicorn could ever want, and there are a few in the Basin with Antlers like you, but they are not golden. Me and Tiamat could show you to the Basin and you could see if you enjoy it, but it is in fact your decision if you would like to come see our gorgeous mountains and meet the others. I will not push anything on you because it is ultimately your decision on what herd you want to join, or if you would like to be alone and be an outcast." He smiled softly to the mare hoping she would choose to join him and Tiamat in the basin,but they cant force her to come against her will. His deep latin voice rung through the woods with every word that dripped out of his mouth. His ghostly appearance gave him a serene type of feel as he awaited for the spotted stag to respond. Although Nox did not look like much he was planning on being successful with bringing Akeldama to the Basin with the help of Tiamat of course.
OOC:: @Akeldama @Mauja @Tiamat sorry it took so long i have been sick:(
Tiamat was definitely a very friendly mare, and a stable source of comfort for the anxious mare. Despite being in a very open group, being outnumbered by strange males had caused Akeldama to feel quite uneasy. At least until Tiamat showed up. Her kindness and confidence had lifted Akeldama's worries, and the four were now together with very little nervousness in the air.
The aquatic mare complimented her golden antlers, earning a subtle smile from the blue mare. She was proud of her own antlers, but had felt a bit outnumbered by the other horses here. They all had horns, and she had wide, branching antlers sprouting from her skull.
When prompted about their herd status, both Tiamat and Nox spoke up, filling the mare's mind with wonderful information about their herd -- Aurora Basin. The name had caught her attention quickly, as the mare had always been fascinated by the aurora up north. She had always wished to see it, but had never traveled north before. The two horses quickly offered to take her to the Basin, to let her see their land and even join their herd.
Joining a herd? Oh dear. Such a big, important step for the solitary mare. Akeldama paused, thinking to herself as the other two spoke of their land. Moving into a herd meant protection, new friends, and maybe even a chance to find love. But at the same time, she might not be able to escape if she didn't like it. But... Tiamat and Nox were wonderful and spoke proudly of the Basin, so what could she possibly be losing? She'd be losing her life of solitude and loneliness, but Akeldama could only see that as a positive thing.
Smiling, the mare gave a gentle nod. "Nox, Tiamat... I would be honored to return to the Basin with you two. You've quickly earned my trust, which, honestly... is not an easy feat." Another grin slid onto her visage, growing wider. "You speak so proudly of it. I'd like to experience this land for myself." Remembering that Mauja was still there, she turned to look at the pearly stallion. "I do apologize for leaving so soon, but I think I've found a new home with these two. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mauja." Akeldama dipped her head respectfully to the stallion, then turned to the two others. "Lead the way."
((OOC: I wanted to get Akeldama going, so heading to the Basin seemed like a good idea! I'm sorry for skipping you, Neo. Just trying to get everything going. xD))
@Mortuus Nox @Mauja @Tiamat
[ No worries! I'm a sucker for actually finishing threads (on my part lol) though so last post from me. <3 ]
Turns out this was tasting too similar to what he had experienced just a few days prior—a feeling like destroying something fragile, of not fitting in, of standing out like a sore thumb, of..
Of being a bad individual.
It had very little grounding in either of logic and reality—it was just the kind of slow, seeping feeling that drifted up from the bottom of your tentative soul, growing blacker and blacker with each inch until it was a flood of poison in your veins. It was food for the fire of uncertainty, a voice in the back of his head whispering you are still that demon.
(He thinks of a dream, of gold leaking out through his every scar, of gold shining out of his eyes; of a golden shield holding the darkness at bay, as the demons of his mind hurled themselves against it, desperate to drag his soul back into the darkness.)
He had fallen, then, through the core of the world, with the words I have damned myself ringing through the chaos.
He had meant his choices in life; the things he had done. Now.. now it felt more like Helovia had permanently branded him "villain" even though the Mauja of the dream was buried beneath sixteen feet of ice and snow and no one here and any way of knowing what sort of stupid shit he'd done in his time.
It was a strange repetition of the meeting with Sabriel; Akeldama's voice was short in the same sense, lacking hints of animosity but biting all the same.
She had even shied away from him, too, even though the blue mare smiled her pleasure. Somehow, he reflected the gesture. When she looked to him for confirmation on where he belonged, he nodded. The World's Edge—the ass-end of Helovia. No wonder Akeldama so quickly made up her mind to go with Big Scary and Blue Lady, though Mauja figured it had more to do with Blue Lady. "Of course," he said mildly, once again staving off a hollowing disappointment that threatened to swarm his eyes with tears. "I wish you luck, all of you."
Irma descended from the lonely sky to ride his shoulders as he turned to trek back home.
[ @Mortuus Nox @Akeldama @Tiamat | This is the dream referenced: the lanterns won't go out at night ]


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Trials Suspended: Don't Delay Representation
Home » Trials Suspended: Don't Delay Representation
Despite moving into Phase 2 of reopening the State of Florida, the Florida Supreme Court issued an Order suspending jury trials once again through July 17, 2020. The Order was entered June 8, 2020, and extended the suspension by another two weeks.
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City Winery presents "Christmas Comedy for the Jews" with Jon Fisch, Dan Lefkovitz and Rabbi Barry Schachter and "Jokes on Us" with Joel Chasnoff.
Beit Yichud holds Havdalah service followed by visit to Glenwood Avenue Arts Festival, 9 p.m., 6932 N. Glenwood, Chicago. For more information, glenwoodave.org.
Israel Tennis Center presents summer exhibition. 2 p.m., College Park Athletic Club, 10 Marriott Drive, Lincolnshire. For more information see israeltenniscenters.org or call (847) 276-2400.
Skokie Theatre presents a short play festival featuring Debbie Goodman's "Dating Dilemmas." 2 p.m., 7924 Lincoln Ave., Skokie. $12. (847) 677-7761.
Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center presents "Romani Life: Then and Now." 2-3:30 p.m., 9603 Woods Drive, Skokie. Free with Museum admission. Reservations, ilholocaustmuseum.org or (847) 967-4800.
Ketura Hadassah presents Moshe Pomerantz speaking on "The State of the State- Israel at 69." 12:30 p.m., Mayer Kaplan JCC, 5050 Church, Skokie. $3. (847) 679-1593.


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